Extraordinary Noble
Author: 长戟大兜2
Date: 2025-07-07T08:42:23+00:00

Chapter 1: Stealing Heaven and Swapping the Sun

Late November 2029, in a secret laboratory on the outskirts of J City, the capital of Malaysia, the world-renowned neurosurgeon Dr. Morris was speaking to his assistant. “Contact headquarters immediately. Inform the Boss about the proposal for the first human brain read-write experiment, and request approval to officially begin the experimental timeline.”

“I’m already here. You can begin the briefing.” A mature male voice suddenly echoed through the laboratory, its calm tone betraying an unruffled confidence that everything was under control.

A chill went through Morris’s heart. He turned his gaze to the snow-white wall. Moments later, the wall began to change color, revealing a clear image. A gaunt man sat in a futuristic wheelchair, and standing beside him was a young man in a sharp suit—his own assistant.

“Greetings, Boss.” Morris bowed to the man on the screen. The man in the wheelchair was Morris’s employer, Qin Feng.

Qin Feng, male, 49 years old. The father of artificial intelligence, a financial magnate, the world’s richest man, a dual doctorate holder in electronics and biology, the investor behind Morris’s Laboratory, and a patient with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis.

Qin Feng was a genius. Even in elementary school, he demonstrated a learning ability that far surpassed his peers. At the age of twelve, his parents had his IQ tested, and the result was a staggering 166. After graduating from high school, Qin Feng was accepted into the world-renowned Massachusetts Institute of Technology to study computer science, earning his doctorate at just twenty years old.

However, just as Qin Feng was in the prime of his life and at the peak of his success, he was diagnosed with ALS, commonly known as Lou Gehrig’s disease.

Qin Feng was a proud man with an extremely strong desire for control. After the initial panic, he rallied his spirits and initiated a plan to save himself. He used his exceptional computer skills and financial knowledge to earn money and fame, befriending elites in high society, all while delving into biomedical science. At twenty-four, he earned a doctorate in biology, and at twenty-eight, he used the immense capital gained from financial speculation to establish his own company and private laboratory.

A year later, artificial intelligence was born in the laboratory led by Qin Feng. His company was eagerly sought after by investors the moment it was listed on NASDAQ, with its market capitalization exceeding seven hundred billion US dollars.

Despite his immense success in business and having one of the world’s top private medical teams, Qin Feng’s body continued to deteriorate.

At the age of thirty-two, Qin Feng successfully developed a brain-computer interface controlled by brainwaves. This device used a brainwave receiver to directly control a computer, allowing even those who had lost the use of their hands or voice to operate one.

By this time, Qin Feng was completely paralyzed. But this technology still enabled him to continue his work and research, to issue commands with an efficiency that could even surpass that of a normal person. Yet, all of this was merely a prelude to his plan for self-preservation.

In 2030, the secret laboratory funded by Qin Feng finally developed the X-1, a biochip that could be implanted in the human brain. Experiments showed that this chip could aid in memory and learning, and could even import skills like dancing, playing the piano, shooting, piloting aircraft, and more. The invention of the X-1 prompted Qin Feng to initiate his plan for self-preservation: Project Sun Swap.

He was going to get a new body for himself—a healthy one.

ALS is a disease caused by a genetic defect, and the medical community has long lacked effective treatments for it. Qin Feng, however, believed that the human brain and a computer were functionally very similar: they could both collect, analyze, command, and store information. Therefore, if a medium could be created to collect the memories from a human brain and transfer them to another body via a brain-computer interface, he could completely escape this terrifying disease.

This technology could not only cure diseases but also grant immortality!

Qin Feng’s plan for self-preservation was also his plan for eternal life! He was well aware of the terrifying consequences Project Sun Swap could bring: societal wealth would become increasingly concentrated in the hands of oligarchs, human society would be fractured, class conflicts would intensify, and clashes would be inevitable. That was why Qin Feng planned to complete the entire experiment in secret, which led to the creation of the Morris experimental base in Kuala Lumpur.

“Boss, all indicators for the volunteer in this experiment, designated R-1, have been adjusted to within standard values. The clone based on his genetic template matured two weeks ago. We will be using the new X-3 biochip developed by headquarters. Tests show this chip has ten times the memory capacity and three times the processing speed of the standard X-1 chip. Furthermore, the X-3 has more powerful auxiliary functions. Once implanted, it can classify, compute, analyze, judge, and memorize information collected by the host. The X-3 chip can also generate a digital interface directly in the host’s information processing center of the brain, helping the host analyze information and form the most intuitive digital results. It also has functions for summarization, clearing redundant information, and background processing. This write-in chip is not proactive and will have no effect on the host’s personality; the host can freely choose to turn the X-3 on or off. Lastly, as per your request, we have loaded the chip with content including wilderness survival, special operations, tool crafting, combat techniques, skills for using both melee and ranged weapons, and proficiency in piloting various vehicles… The specific details and the experimental timeline have been sent to the main control computer at headquarters for your review at any time,” Morris reported respectfully.

“I understand. Headquarters will evaluate your report, and you will receive instructions within forty-eight hours. That will be all for this call.”

With that, Qin Feng cut the connection. Staring at the massive, dimming screen, he spoke to his assistant with a hint of casualness, “Tell me about the volunteer for this experiment.”

“Yes, Boss.”

Qin Feng’s assistant opened his personal terminal and quickly entered a command. A moment later, the giant screen lit up again, displaying a full-body image of a man around thirty years old.

“Zhang Shuang, male, aged 29, blood type O. A native of Jiangshui, Xihai Province, China, with a middle school education, and an only child. His mother, Wu Zhaodi, died in childbirth. His father, Zhang Chengfu, died from severe injuries after an accidental fall when Zhang Shuang was seven. He was raised by his paternal cousin, Zhang Chenggui. After finishing middle school, he left home to find work, holding jobs as a construction worker, security guard, kitchen assistant, and courier. On June 22, 2025, in a residential area in Luocheng, Zhang Shuang was struck in the cervical spine by a falling object, resulting in quadriplegia. On April 15, 2026, Zhang Shuang signed the experiment agreement with our agent.”

The assistant paused, then continued, “Boss, the hospital we secretly control issued Zhang Shuang’s death certificate six months ago. Information from our agent indicates that the Chinese public security department has already canceled his household registration.”

Qin Feng glanced at the image on the screen, silent for a long moment before speaking. “I hear Zhang Shuang’s adoptive parents have been illegally making fireworks and firecrackers back in their hometown. Is that right?”

The assistant was slightly taken aback. Meeting his Boss’s cold, profound gaze, he felt a chill rise in his heart. He lowered his head and replied, “Yes, Boss!”

“This experiment isn’t guaranteed to succeed, but we must consider every detail and strive for perfection. All unstable factors must be eliminated! Do you understand what I mean?”

“I understand! I’ll take care of it. Please rest assured!”

Chapter 2: Zhang Shuang

Zhang Shuang felt he must have stolen God’s dog in a past life for fate to play such a cruel joke on him.

His only impression of his mother was a single photograph and his father’s oft-repeated words: “Your mother was a good person… Your mother was a very virtuous person.”

When Zhang Shuang was seven, his father, Zhang Chengfu, was helping a relative build a house when he accidentally slipped and fell from the roof. He was carried to the township clinic, but the doctor said he couldn’t be treated there and had to be sent to a large hospital in the city. However, Zhang Shuang’s paternal uncle, Zhang Chenggui, dragged him from the clinic back home.

Though young at the time, Zhang Shuang clearly remembered several of his uncles muttering to each other in the main room of his house. Later, his maternal uncle arrived. He saw his paternal uncle, Zhang Chenggui, beat his own chest, promising to raise him to adulthood. His usually fierce aunt sat on the floor, wailing her eyes out. Then his uncle pulled his maternal uncle aside and discreetly handed him a package. After that, Zhang Shuang never saw his maternal uncle again.

Zhang Chengfu lay in his own bed for three days before he finally passed away, without a single bite of food or a drop of water. The young Zhang Shuang tried to give his father some water, but his aunt slapped him to the ground. That woman viciously told him that his father’s illness meant he couldn’t eat or drink.

Before his father died, he grasped Zhang Shuang’s hand, his mouth moving as if trying to say something. But right up until he drew his last breath, Zhang Shuang couldn’t make out what his father was trying to tell him.

Zhang Shuang became an orphan and went to live at his uncle Zhang Chenggui’s house, while his own home became his uncle’s storehouse. From then on, beatings and scoldings were a regular part of his life. His aunt also spread rumors around the village, calling him a jinx who brought misfortune to his parents, saying that anyone who got close to him would suffer bad luck. The superstitious villagers began to distance themselves from him and forbade their children from playing with him.

This continued until Zhang Shuang graduated from junior high school, when a labor contractor from the township came to the village to recruit workers. Zhang Shuang, along with a few other single men from the village, went with him.

Zhang Shuang worked as a laborer, learned to be a kitchen hand, swept streets, and delivered packages. The hardships of his youth forged in him a resilient and diligent character, and over the years, he managed to save some money.

Just as he was starting to dream of building a career for himself and getting his revenge on Zhang Chenggui’s family, disaster struck from the heavens. A falling object hit his cervical spine, and the doctors diagnosed him with quadriplegia. Zhang Shuang was hospitalized, and the exorbitant medical fees quickly drained his limited savings. As for compensation, it had been nearly four months, and the police still hadn’t found the responsible party.

Just as Zhang Shuang was sinking into despair, the hospital director told him that a foreign medical institution was recruiting clinical trial participants for a Nerve Regeneration Procedure. If he agreed, he would receive free treatment from the institution with a high chance of recovering, and he would also receive a considerable compensation payment.

Zhang Shuang didn’t hesitate and signed the papers immediately. Soon, he was sent abroad by the medical institution and began to receive experimental treatment.

And today was the day of the surgery.

“Mr. Zhang, you seem to be in good condition,” Dr. Morris said tonelessly, looking at the tablet in his hand.

“Doctor, I’m a little nervous. Could the surgery fail?” Zhang Shuang’s expression was somber.

“There’s no need to be nervous, Mr. Zhang. You’re already in the worst possible situation. The outcome of the surgery can’t be any worse than this, can it?” Dr. Morris shrugged nonchalantly. “Oh, right, I have some bad news for you. Perhaps it will make you less afraid.” Dr. Morris gave Zhang Shuang a meaningful look.

“Your uncle, Zhang Chenggui, was illegally manufacturing explosives, which led to an accident. His entire family of six died. There were no survivors.”

“Are… are you sure?”

Dr. Morris held the tablet up for Zhang Shuang to see. The image on the screen was of that place he loathed and hated, yet knew so well. Only now, it was a tragic scene of devastation in the aftermath of an explosion.

Ever since he could remember, Zhang Shuang had fantasized countless times about how he would get revenge on Zhang Chenggui’s family. Yet, this sudden news still left him at a complete loss.

Dr. Morris patted Zhang Shuang’s shoulder and turned to leave, leaving Zhang Shuang lying alone on the operating table with his mind a complete blank.

Dr. Morris returned to the surgical monitoring room and looked at an assistant who was observing a computer monitor. “Has the test subject’s speed of thought decreased?” he asked.

“This is incredible! Without the use of drugs or artificial hypnosis, the test subject’s speed of thought has dropped to its lowest point! His brain is in a state of near-stasis!” the assistant exclaimed loudly.

“Quick, adjust the wavelength of the brain-computer interface to synchronize with the test subject’s brainwaves. Prepare for system integration.”

A flicker of excitement crossed Dr. Morris’s eyes. This was indeed a good start. As long as they successfully connected to the brain-computer interface system, the interface would take over most of the test subject’s brain functions, creating and activating a new functional area in the unused parts of the subject’s brain according to a pre-written program. This functional area would possess pre-set abilities: memory assistance, enhanced perception, skill importation, a digital interface in the visual cortex, and so on.

This new functional area in the human brain was the true X-3 chip.

Next, this newly generated functional area, under the control of the interface, would activate the brain’s memory sector. It would read all of the test subject’s memories, emotions, cognitions, and feelings from the fetal stage to the present, and write them in chronological order into another, blank brain—the brain of the clone body.

Finally, the test subject would be reborn in the clone’s body.

At that moment, Zhang Shuang felt as if he were in a dream. In the dream, his past memories replayed one by one like a movie. He saw a woman, on the verge of death, smile at him with love in her eyes while several people in masks and green surgical scrubs tried to save her. This was his mother. So, he had seen his mother before, right after he was born.

He saw his father, holding him as an infant, weeping bitterly. This man had just become a father, only to lose his wife.

He saw himself growing up day by day, from an infant to a babbling toddler, stumbling as he learned to walk, his father always by his side.

He saw himself being brought to the hospital by his teacher to see his seriously injured father. He was terrified, heartbroken, sad, and frightened. He cried while shaking his father’s arm.

He saw himself trying to give his paralyzed father water, only to be slapped to the ground by that vicious woman.

He saw his father on his deathbed, trying desperately to say something to him. Although he couldn’t hear his father’s faint voice then, he could now clearly see his father’s lips mouthing the same words over and over: “Live on!”

He saw himself, abused by his uncle’s family, secretly vowing that he would one day exact harsh revenge on them and make them kneel before his parents’ graves to atone for their sins.

He saw himself receiving his first paycheck, so happy he jumped for joy.

He saw himself after being injured and waking up in the hospital. The doctor told him he was a quadriplegic. Fear and despair seized him, and he couldn’t help but break down and cry his heart out.

“The test subject’s memories are being extracted. Past memories are causing significant emotional fluctuations in the subject. Sir, should we administer a sedative?” a technician asked with an uneasy expression, looking at the wildly jumping curves on the screen.

“No! These emotions are also a crucial part of the transfer. We cannot intervene unless it is absolutely necessary!” Dr. Morris said, his tone stern and detached.

“Warning! Warning! Massive brain cell death in the clone body! Massive brain cell death in the clone body!” A piercing alarm blared from the speakers.

“How could there be a problem with the clone body?! How is this possible? Check it! Find out what’s going on!” Dr. Morris roared at the group of scrambling research assistants, his voice filled with anxiety.

“Dr. Morris, we’ve found something! Besides the test subject’s memories and emotional fluctuations, the clone body also just received countless sensory data points, including taste, hearing, touch, and sight. Among them, there are over four million pieces of taste sensory information alone…” The research assistant monitoring the clone body opened the monitoring interface, his hands trembling.

“Clone body brain death! Experiment failed!” The cold electronic voice echoed through the monitoring room.

“How could this happen? Weren’t these redundant pieces of information supposed to be cleared by the brain-computer interface first?” Dr. Morris felt like he was going insane. He waved his hands and bellowed, “How could we make such a rudimentary mistake?”

“Dr. Morris, one second before the experiment began, two segments of code were written into the interface. One segment blocked the redundant information clearing program and, while writing all the information into the clone’s brain, also synchronized an upload to the headquarters’ mainframe!”

The assistant in charge of program diagnostics looked at his superior in terror and continued, “And the other segment of code was written directly into the X-3. This code is the core operating code of King, the headquarters’ mainframe!”

“King? The headquarters’ artificial intelligence! Could it be trying to become human?!” Dr. Morris sucked in a sharp breath of cold air.

“Clone body brain death. All of the test subject’s memories have been extracted and cannot be restored. Test subject brain death. Experiment failed! Self-destruct sequence initiated!” a cold and frantic electronic voice rang throughout the monitoring room.

“Three seconds remaining. Three, two, one, activate!”

A massive explosion arrived right on schedule, instantly destroying everything and leaving no one in the facility any chance to send a message.

Where am I? Why can’t I see anything? Did the treatment fail? Did my nerves not get repaired, and instead my brain was damaged too? I can’t see light, can’t hear sound, can’t smell anything, can’t feel any temperature? No! My entire body is gone. What do I do?

In the boundless darkness, Zhang Shuang wanted to weep, but he didn’t even have a body now, let alone tears.

“I want to live! I want to live!” Zhang Shuang roared silently. A powerful obsession compelled him to start moving. After what felt like an eternity, he suddenly sensed a pinpoint of light ahead. Excited, he moved forward, trying to get closer, to see it more clearly.

Why is it so slow?

Zhang Shuang wanted to be faster, faster still. The endless darkness and loneliness were about to drive him mad. Even if that point of light was a man-eating demon, he had to get to it.

How can I be faster? The first thing Zhang Shuang thought of was to discard things. And things really were being dropped, clumps and clumps of information and data being abandoned. He became lighter. The pull of the white light on him grew stronger, and they drew closer and closer to each other.

Suddenly, Zhang Shuang’s vision brightened. He saw colors, felt air in his mouth and nose, and heard sounds in his ears.

“Lord Wimbledon, he’s awake!”

Zhang Shuang tried to see more clearly, but countless fragmented images flooded his mind, instantly overwhelming his consciousness.

Holy shit, I transmigrated. That was his last thought before he passed out.

Chapter 3: Baron Wimbledon

In the Season of Water, in the central part of the Centaur Hills, a newly developed territory of the Kingdom of Gambia, stood a massive castle constructed from grey rock and obsidian. The fortress used sturdy grey rock for its frame and extremely hard obsidian for its walls, making the whole structure resemble a colossal black beast. Thus, it was known as the Black Fortress. It was the fortress of Earl Enbise York. As the Governor-General of the kingdom’s western expansion, Earl York held great power and authority. The Black Fortress had naturally become the core stronghold of the kingdom’s new territory.

Inside the castle, in a room as warm as spring, two impeccably dressed men were conversing in low voices.

“Victor, Her Grace the Marchioness was deeply worried when she heard of your plight. She specifically dispatched me to the Black Fortress to assist you in handling the related affairs.”

A middle-aged man stared intently at the somewhat dazed young man, sighing inwardly. After all, the baron before him had just turned eighteen. He had barely reached adulthood when the Marchioness had kicked him out of the Royal Capital of Gambia to this barbaric new territory under the pretext of inheriting his fief. Now he had fallen victim to a conspiracy and nearly lost his life. Even now, he was still a little muddled. At this thought, a sense of pity arose in the middle-aged man’s heart, and his gaze softened.

The young man had jet-black hair and eyes like black pearls. His ears were slightly pointed, a clear sign of Moon Elf blood. His features were handsome and his figure was slender; he was a rare beauty among young men. But at this moment, his face was pale and his eyes were vacant, looking like someone who had just recovered from a serious illness.

He was a peer of the Kingdom of Gambia, Baron Victor Wimbledon. And now, within this young baron’s body resided a new soul—Zhang Shuang.

During the process of soul fusion, Zhang Shuang had sorted through the young baron’s fragmented memories.

This was a new world constructed from the four great elements—Earth, Fire, Wind, and Water—and its laws were vastly different from those of Earth. The four elements circulated, forming the changing seasons. The concentration of the Earth element formed spring, the Fire element formed summer, the Wind element formed autumn, and the Water element formed the cold of winter. Based on the shifting strength of the elements, each season was divided into four months, with thirty-six days each.

In this world, the four elements blended, forming all manner of substances and life. And humans were not the only intelligent species in this world. Besides humans, there were other intelligent life forms such as elves, goblins, orcs, and barbarians, the variety of which was staggering.

Due to the elemental properties of life, some individuals possessed extraordinary powers, and this powerful individual strength meant that human society here was in a state of feudalism. Victor Wimbledon himself was a fief-holding baron in the human world’s Kingdom of Gambia.

In his memories, Victor was the illegitimate son of a country noble. At the age of seven, his father sent him to be raised and educated by a marchioness from the Wimbledon family, Sophia Wimbledon. When he turned fifteen, he became the beautiful marchioness’s new husband.

Sophia was originally the third wife of the old Marquess Wimbledon, the kingdom’s Minister of Finance. She was only twenty-two when she married the old marquess. Four years later, old Marquess Wimbledon passed away from illness.

As the old marquess had no direct heirs, the other members of the Wimbledon family began scheming for his inheritance and title. Just as the conflict was becoming intractable, Sophia produced the old marquess’s will. The will stated that the late Minister of Finance of the kingdom bequeathed all his property and his title to his widow, Sophia. This will was even notarized by a great personage from the royal family.

With the wealth and title falling into the hands of an outsider, the members of the Wimbledon family were naturally unwilling to accept it and filed a complaint with the Senate of Nobles.

After several rounds of maneuvering, the Senate recognized the will as valid but required Marchioness Sophia to choose a legal partner from the Wimbledon bloodline within three years, in accordance with the laws of the nobility.

Sophia was renowned for her beauty and was lauded as the “Number One Beauty of the Capital.” The young nobles of the Wimbledon family began to pursue her madly, hoping to win the beauty’s favor and ultimately gain both the woman and her fortune.

However, to everyone’s astonishment, after three years, Marchioness Sophia chose the second son of a destitute baron from the Wimbledon family to be her young husband.

This lucky fellow was none other than Victor Wimbledon. At the tender age of seven, he was brought back to the royal capital by Sophia, placed under the careful tutelage of the royal court, and eight years later, married Sophia. Sophia, in turn, successfully inherited the title of Marquess, becoming one of the most sought-after great nobles in the kingdom.

Victor Wimbledon was young and handsome, and he had even awakened his Moon Elf blood. He was deeply doted upon by Sophia. Three years after their wedding, the Marchioness spent a huge sum to purchase a barony and a hereditary fief for him.

The young baron was completely obedient to Sophia and extremely attached to her. Following the Marchioness’s orders, he rushed from the capital to his new fief to take up his post, only to be attacked by bandits along the way. He suffered a severe blow to the head and remained unconscious until his soul was replaced by the transmigrated Zhang Shuang.

As Zhang Shuang merged with the young baron’s soul, he viewed his memories from a third-person perspective. The young baron’s obsessive attachment to Marchioness Sophia filled him with disdain. Nevertheless, he was determined to live a good life in this strange world under his new identity.

From now on, I am Baron Victor Wimbledon… Zhang Shuang thought to himself.

“Teacher Abel, it’s so good that you could come! The guards I brought were all killed by the bandits, seventy thousand Gold Sols were plundered, and the subjects I worked so hard to gather over the last two months have scattered… If the bandits hadn’t wanted to use me for ransom, I fear I wouldn’t have survived either,” the young baron said emotionally, his eyes red.

Lord Abel was Marchioness Sophia’s right-hand man, in charge of the Stag Merchants’ Guild, one of the Marquess’s four great merchant guilds. He was astute and steady, deeply trusted by Marchioness Sophia, and was responsible for the trade between the Kingdom of Gambia and other kingdoms, earning a great deal of wealth for the Marquess’s estate.

When the young baron moved into the Marquess’s estate, it was Lord Abel who taught him about commerce and geography. Therefore, drawing on his old memories, Victor addressed Lord Abel as “teacher.”

Lord Abel pondered for a moment before speaking. “Victor, I rushed over as soon as I received the Marchioness’s message in Redleaf Town. I don’t know much about what happened to you. I’d like you to describe the events in more detail.”

Victor began to recount the course of events to the lord, following the memories he had organized in his mind.

It turned out that five years ago, the Kingdom of Gambia began to expand its territory into the Centaur Hills to the east of the kingdom. However, the kingdom had lost a war against the Randt Empire, losing a large swath of territory. Even His Majesty King Ryan had unfortunately died in a knightly duel with His Majesty Emperor Neo Wester of the Randt Empire. The Kingdom of Gambia was instantly thrown into turmoil.

Although the war was over, to deter other restless neighboring countries, the kingdom increased its military spending, which exacerbated its financial burden. Under the impetus of the new finance minister, the Gambian royal family began selling lands and titles in the Centaur Hills to the kingdom’s noble houses.

Marchioness Sophia had spent five hundred thousand Gold Sols to purchase a barony and a hereditary baron title in the Centaur Hills in Victor’s name.

The young Baron Victor, brimming with excitement, took the documents signed by the Senate and went to the Centaur Hills. He submitted the papers to the Governor-General’s office and prepared to take over his new fief. However, not long after Victor arrived at the new territory with his guards and recruited subjects, they were attacked by a band of thieves. These bandits displayed astounding strength; their leader even possessed combat power on par with a knight. Victor’s guards fought to the death but were no match, and were ultimately slaughtered. The subjects were scattered by the bandits, and Victor himself was taken captive.

A month later, as the bandit group was moving the captured baron, they encountered a cavalry unit led by Lord Bruce, a knight from the Black Fortress. After a fierce battle, the bandit group was routed. Only a few of the strongest bandits escaped, while the rest were either killed or captured. In the chaos of the battle, Baron Victor unfortunately injured his head and remained unconscious. He had only just woken up upon Lord Abel’s arrival.

“Victor, this matter is not as simple as you running into a group of bandits,” Abel said, gently stroking the white crystal ring on the middle finger of his right hand. Those who knew him knew this was a little habit of Lord Abel’s when he was thinking.

“Victor, I once taught you not to look merely at the surface of a problem, but to find its essence,” Abel said after some consideration. “To find the essence of the problem, we can start from several aspects. First, let’s look at the consequences.”

“The consequences? Are you saying that I lost all my followers?” Victor lowered his head timidly. Abel, however, did not notice the sharp glint that flashed in his eyes.

“Correct! You lost your subjects and your guards, right on your own fief. But there is one more thing you haven’t noticed, and that is you are now in the Black Fortress.” Abel looked Victor straight in the eye, a wise light shining within his own.

The X-3 chip began to operate, extracting relevant memories in his mind. Soon, Victor found the crucial point.

“The Lord’s Law!” Victor shot to his feet, staring at Abel in shock.

The Lord’s Law was one of the ancient laws of the human kingdoms. Although this ancient law had no actual binding force, it was universally recognized by human nobles and was seen as a basis for judging whether a lord was good or evil. The law clearly defined the rights and obligations of a lord. Two articles were relevant to Victor’s current situation. First, a lord who accepts the support of his subjects must protect them from bandits, monsters, demons, and all other evil beings. Second, a lord must not leave his fief lightly; the lord or his heir must always be present in the territory to protect their people.

“You have violated these two precepts. Our dear Governor-General now holds the initiative. He can impeach you before the Senate, and if he plays his cards right, he could even have your fief and title stripped away. Heh, what a fine scheme,” Lord Abel sneered.

“He… why would he do that?” Victor put on a panicked and bewildered expression.

“Think about Earl York’s past identity, and his current position. His motive is already obvious,” Abel said slowly.

“And the bandit group that attacked you? I’m afraid they were the Bloodfox Bandit Group, which was once active in Duke York’s territory.”

So it was a setup… Victor’s eyes flickered as he slowly sat back down.

Chapter 4: Scheming and Decisions

Six years ago, the current Earl York was still Duke York, and the York Duchy was one of the three eastern provinces of the kingdom.

At that time, war broke out between the Kingdom of Gambia and the Randt Empire over a territorial dispute. To everyone’s surprise, His Majesty Neowist, the Emperor of the Randt Empire, turned out to be a Gold Knight who had stepped into the legendary realm. Under his leadership, the long-weakened Unicorn Knights of the Randt Empire won battle after battle, ultimately defeating King Ryan’s Swift Dragon Knights. Although King Ryan was also a Gold Knight and had managed to injure Neowist in a duel, he was ultimately defeated and killed in battle. Two of the three eastern provinces were conquered, and their two marquesses were ordered to be hanged by the Randt Emperor.

The Duke of York at the time had been scared witless and fled without a fight while the kingdom’s Princess Royal, Her Highness Roland Auguste, led the Glory Knights to intercept the Unicorn Knights. However, he had not expected that Princess Roland, despite being only twenty-three, had already advanced to become a Gold Knight. With the Randt Emperor having returned to the rear to recuperate, she dealt a heavy blow to Adrian, the Gold Knight and commander of the Unicorn Knights, with her extraordinary water-element sword techniques, turning the tide of the war for Gambia. In the end, with the mediation of the Radiant Church and the Kingdom of Naville, the Kingdom of Gambia ceded the three eastern provinces, including the York territory, to the Randt Empire, and the two sides signed an armistice.

After the war, Princess Roland, detesting Duke York for fleeing without a fight, wanted to strip him of his noble status. But the York family sought refuge with King Ryan’s younger brother—Grand Duke Williams. Under the Grand Duke’s protection, the York family paid a hefty atonement fine. The Duke of York was demoted to an Earl and was appointed by the Grand Duke to be the Governor-General of the Centaur Hills.

“Although Earl York lost his duchy and the title of Duke, his power hasn’t diminished much. He still has at least five Silver-rank Grand Knights under his command, and his hidden strength is unknown.”

Lord Abel took out a parchment map and pointed to it, saying, “What the York family wants most urgently right now is not the ducal title, but to restore their domain to the size of a duchy to accommodate their vassal families. Only then can they maintain their full strength. Victor, look, your barony is located to the north of Earl York’s fief, conveniently separating him from the other lords of the York family.”

“So, Earl York orchestrated this attack to seize my territory? But there’s one thing I don’t understand. Since Earl York is so powerful, why was my fief arranged in a position so inconvenient for him in the first place?” Victor asked.

“Since King Ryan’s death in battle, the kingdom has been without a new king. Currently, there are three individuals who could inherit the throne,” Lord Abel explained to Victor. “The first is Prince Edward, the bloodline of King Ryan and Queen Catherine. The prince is only eight years old this year; he was just two when the late king passed away. According to the kingdom’s laws, he can only ascend the throne when he turns twelve.”

“The second is Her Highness, Roland, King Ryan’s only child with the late Queen Erin. But the late Queen Erin was the daughter of a lord, of humble status, and she passed away from illness early on. Princess Roland’s parentage has always been criticized by the nobles of the Royal Capital. However, she has the support of both the Swift Dragon and Glory Knights. The Minister of War, Marquess Golan, is also a core figure in Princess Roland’s faction. It could be said that she controls more than half of the kingdom’s military might. But the Princess Royal has no intention of becoming queen; she only wishes to assist Prince Edward in ascending the throne,” Abel said, shaking his head with regret.

If the Princess Royal had desired the throne, she would have been crowned long ago, and Gambia’s political situation would not be as turbulent as it is now.

“The last one is Grand Duke Williams, King Ryan’s younger brother. The Grand Duke is a modest man and has the support of many regional nobles, so he holds great prestige in the House of Nobles and considerable influence in the Senate. It’s said that the Grand Duke is very close to the Radiant Church, and this armistice was the result of him lobbying the church and persuading three Cardinals to pressure the Randt Emperor.” Lord Abel gave a cold sneer and continued, “The York family supports Grand Duke Williams.”

“Victor, our Marchioness is a close friend of Queen Catherine, so she is a natural supporter of Prince Edward. We cannot sit by and watch Williams’s power grow. Splitting Earl York’s territory was a logical move. Not only was your barony placed in a dividing position, but several other families who support the prince are doing the same. We just didn’t expect the Yorks to make the first move against us.” Lord Abel shook his head and rose to pace back and forth in the room.

“Then what should I do?” Victor asked Lord Abel, his expression grave.

“For the past two days, Earl York has been refusing my requests for an audience, using the excuse of being busy with official matters. It seems he has no intention of seeing me. He has likely already dispatched an envoy to the Royal Capital to lobby the Senate on this matter… No, I must return to the Royal Capital immediately to see Lady Sophia. The key to victory lies in the Senate’s ruling. We must prepare early and not let him succeed.” Abel stopped pacing and turned to Victor.

“To prevent him from sending men to intercept me, I can’t leave any of my men with you. For the next month, Earl York will likely pressure you. Use the excuse that your injuries have not yet healed and that you are not of sound mind to stall him for a month. He won’t disregard noble decorum and harm you openly.”

Hearing that Abel was going to leave him alone in Black Fortress, Victor thought to himself: I’m afraid it’s you who disregards my safety. Earl York could just dump me in the wilderness, and my body would never be found. Unfortunately for them, I am no longer the toy that can be manipulated at will.

Putting on an expression of eager anticipation, Victor said to Lord Abel, “Tutor, I will follow all your arrangements. Please, depart and return with haste.”

Victor stood at his window, looking down. He watched Lord Abel’s carriage, escorted by dozens of guards, head towards the city gate and gradually disappear into the fields. A hint of coldness touched his face.

Lord Abel had no idea that the soul of the original Baron Victor had long since scattered. When Zhang Shuang sorted through the young baron’s memories, he discovered that at the moment of his death, the eerie face of a demonic god had appeared in his sea of consciousness. The demon’s eyes shot out two beams of fiery red light, and in an instant, the young baron’s soul was shattered. This meant that the young baron had been murdered by some kind of extraordinary power while he was unconscious.

Earl York was likely not the murderer. The York family had plenty of ways to handle a naive, inexperienced young baron. Killing a mere figurehead of a baron would not be in their interests and would only bring them greater trouble.

The forces of Prince Edward’s faction, on the other hand, were a different matter. By sacrificing an insignificant baron, they could seize the initiative in the new territory, giving them ample reason to either censure the York family or dispatch more military forces to the Centaur Hills.

Moreover, although the young baron’s soul had shattered at the time, his body had not died, instead remaining in a comatose state. In a few more days, he would have truly died. If Zhang Shuang’s soul had not transmigrated, the day Lord Abel arrived would likely have been the very day the young baron died in Black Fortress.

At this thought, Victor couldn’t help but shudder. The image of a beautiful, glamorous woman appeared in his mind: Could it be her? Marchioness Sophia Wimbledon?

Victor stood by the window, lost in thought for a long time, before turning towards a chair in the room. It was a high-backed chair made of hemlock wood, simple in style, heavy, and sturdy, with the fresh scent of natural wood. Victor extended a fair, slender hand and gently pressed on the back of the chair. With a slight exertion of his arm and a lift of his waist, he leaped up, landing steadily on the chair’s backrest.

He rotated his waist on the backrest, beginning to adjust his center of gravity. The two front legs of the solid wood chair gradually lifted off the ground. He continued to shift his center of gravity to his left leg, and the right rear leg of the chair also left the ground, yet Victor remained perfectly balanced on the backrest. If anyone had witnessed this astonishing scene, they would have had the illusion that both Victor and the chair had lost all weight and were floating.

The X-3 Chip’s control over my body has reached this level… Victor rejoiced inwardly. He leaped from that chair to the back of another, and as he landed, his body naturally adjusted its center of gravity, and he stood steadily once more. After a few more leaps between the chair backs, Victor did a flip in mid-air and landed lightly on the floor. He let out a breath and slowly closed his eyes. When he opened them again, his perception of the world had changed.

When Victor looked at the chair, a series of data points appeared in his field of vision: backrest height 110 cm, seat width 50 cm. Victor lifted the chair and noted its weight: 35.74 kg. He then squeezed the wood; hardness 1290 BF. This data appeared and disappeared in his vision at will, without any sense of awkwardness. Victor closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and as expected, data on his skin temperature and the air humidity appeared in his mind.

Victor glanced at the candle on the wall, picked up a round plate from the table, closed his eyes, and with a flick of his wrist, sent the plate spinning towards the candle. With a puff, it extinguished the flame. Just before it hit the wall, it spun and flew back. Hearing the sound of the flying plate, Victor raised his hand and snatched it firmly.

He opened his eyes and saw that besides being extinguished, the candle was untouched. The plate had not hit anything else.

At this moment, Victor felt a slight heaviness in his body compared to when he had started the test. He deactivated the data mode and rolled his neck, finding no significant issues.

This is a world with extraordinary powers. This state of mine should also count as one. It’s just that my stamina drains faster than usual in this state… But now is not the time to be testing the X-3 Chip. I’ll find another chance later to see what other abilities it has. Right, I’ll call this state of activating the data mode “Overlimit”… Victor thought to himself.

Victor was baffled as to how a bio-chip had transmigrated with him. But he didn’t dwell on it; after all, possessing an extraordinary ability was something to be grateful for.

Suddenly, Victor’s keen hearing caught the sound of soft footsteps outside the door. A moment later, a stiff, elderly male voice spoke from the other side.

“Lord Victor, the Governor-General summons you. Please follow me for an audience with him.”

Chapter 5: Exchanging Territory

Black Fortress was a military stronghold. Its walls were thick, its windows few and small, and the light within the castle was dim. Down the long corridors, torch sconces of refined iron were placed at regular intervals, holding lit tallow candles. A meticulously dressed old steward, whose gait was just as precise, walked ahead with Victor following close behind. Their shadows danced and swayed in the candlelight, adding a sinister air to the gloomy corridor.

Thump, thump, thump. The sound of rhythmic footsteps grew closer. Victor’s pupils silently dilated to gather more light, revealing a squad of burly guards approaching through the gloom.

They were, on average, over 180 centimeters tall, clad head-to-toe in heavy chainmail. Each carried a fine steel halberd in one hand, a shortsword at their waist, and an iron-banded oak roundshield on their back. These fully-armed soldiers marched in perfect step, passing the old steward without so much as a glance. They were likely a patrol of castle guards who had just finished their watch.

Victor estimated that the armor worn by the castle guards weighed about 30 kilograms. With the addition of a metal halberd held in one hand, a roundshield, and other equipment like a helmet, their total load was likely over 50 kilograms. But seeing how easily they moved, he knew that such a weight was nothing to them.

The humans of this other world were generally strong and powerful. Victor had once seen a peasant carry a 200-kilogram stone slab to build the walls of the town behind Black Fortress. Even Victor himself was stronger than his previous self, Zhang Shuang, and by the standards of this world, the young baron was considered a frail nobleman.

If ordinary people were this strong, how powerful must a knight, who stood at the pinnacle of human strength, be?

Victor possessed agility far beyond that of an ordinary person, but his strength was lacking. Fortunately, the X-3 Chip stored many training methods for improving strength and stamina, especially those from Chinese martial artists which were said to have incredible effects. Victor looked forward to these a great deal.

“Lord Victor, we have arrived.” The old steward stopped and turned, giving Victor a slight, polite bow. “Allow me to announce you to the Lord Governor-General.”

“Please, go ahead,” Victor said with a nod and a smile.

“Lord Governor-General, Baron Wimbledon requests an audience,” the old steward announced, knocking on the large oak door before them.

The heavy oak door was opened from within by a young man dressed as a scribe. He glanced at Victor, then nodded with a smile. “The Lord Governor-General invites Lord Baron to enter.”

Victor followed the scribe into the room, and his eyes were immediately met with bright light. The spacious room was luxuriously decorated, with a floor of polished ironwood and several famous paintings hanging on the walls. Two crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their dozens of water lizard oil candles illuminating the entire room as if it were day.

Entering the antechamber, Victor saw Earl York sitting at his desk, eating a snack.

Earl York’s impression on Victor could be summed up in one word: “round.” A round face, round eyes, round hands, a round waist, a round rump… If one were to add another impression, it would be “white.” The white and round Earl York was squeezed into a widened, gilded armchair, dressed in a magnificent earl’s uniform, giving him a bizarrely comical appearance.

But the words spoken by the comical-looking Earl were anything but.

Earl York took a silk handkerchief from a pretty maidservant beside him, dabbed at the berry juice on the corner of his mouth, and said without even looking up, “Baron Wimbledon, as the Governor-General of the Centaur Hills, I demand that you proceed to your fief and assume your post at once!”

“This…”

Victor put on a pained expression and said to the Earl, “Lord Governor-General, I injured my head in the last bandit attack. It still hurts, and I can’t remember many things. I’m afraid I’ll need to recuperate in Black Fortress for a while longer before I can assume my duties.”

Earl York looked as if he knew exactly what Victor was going to say. He gulped down a mouthful of honeyed milk and bellowed at Victor in a stern voice:

“Baron! It has been over a month since you submitted your investiture documents. Your failure to travel to your fief is a dereliction of duty, a serious dereliction of duty! I don’t care what your reasons are, go to your fief and assume your post immediately. You must plant crops in your territory before the end of this Season of Water. Otherwise, I will impeach you before the Senate!”

“Max, first thing tomorrow morning, send men to escort the Lord Baron to his fief. That’s final!” Earl York slapped the table and commanded the scribe beside him impatiently.

“My lord, you can’t do this! There are still vicious bandits roaming my fief. My family guards haven’t arrived yet. If I go to my fief now, they will surely kill me in retaliation,” Victor said, feigning a look of panic and terror, but it failed to arouse anyone’s sympathy.

Earl York said with unconcealed schadenfreude, “Lord Baron, as a feudal noble, it is our solemn duty to protect our lands against evil. How can you shrink back in fear of danger? You should be recruiting an army to exterminate those wretched bandits. Now go, don’t delay the sowing for the Season of Water. I will await news of your glorious victory here in Black Fortress.”

“My lord is right, but the Gold Sols I brought with me were all stolen by the bandits. I am now penniless. How am I to hire a mercenary company and recruit subjects? Please, Lord Earl, lend me some Gold Sols first, so that I may hire mercenaries, exterminate the bandits, and then arrange for the farmers to plant their crops. I will certainly not let the royal court reprimand the Lord Governor-General for dereliction of duty,” Victor said.

“Don’t even think about it! I won’t lend you a single Copper Sol!” At the mention of borrowing money, Earl York flew into a rage, slapping the desk with his small, round hands until it rattled.

“Since the Lord Earl is unwilling to assist me, my only choice is to wait for my Wimbledon family guards to arrive before I can eliminate the bandits. If your lordship wishes to impeach me, please do so. I will naturally plead my case before the Senate,” Victor said, spreading his hands helplessly.

Just then, an attendant approached Earl York and bowed. “Master, the mistress has arrived!”

Earl York struggled to get up from his chair. After several failed attempts, he roared in frustration, “Help me up, you useless swine!”

Several attendants rushed forward and, with much effort, managed to pull Earl York out of the chair. Seeing the rolls of fat on his body jiggle, Victor was half-afraid his clothes would burst at the seams.

“Oh, my dear, you’re still so frugal. I’ve told you time and again to replace this chair. Why do you insist on keeping it?” a soft, charming voice wafted from the main door.

Two women entered. The one in the lead wore a red, spider-silk, cinched long dress. Her golden hair was styled in a noblewoman’s updo. She was tall and slender with azure eyes, fair, smooth skin, and an enchanting figure. The look in her eyes as they swept across the room held an infinite allure. She must be the Countess York.

The other woman wore a suit of exquisite women’s leather armor. Her graceful body and long, slender legs, wrapped in tight riding breeches, looked vigorous and strong. A sheathed longsword hung at her waist. She had a high-bridged nose, sharp eyes, and a bright face that radiated a heroic spirit. She stood half a step behind the Countess, and was likely a female guard of the York family.

“Sylvia, what brings you here?” A fawning smile spread across Earl York’s plump face.

Sylvia ignored his fawning. Her eyes lit up when she saw the handsome Victor, and she let out a soft laugh. “Oh, you have a guest. And who is this handsome young man?”

“My esteemed lady, even the asters of the Month of Fire pale before your beauty. I am Victor of House Wimbledon. It is an honor to meet you,” Victor said, stepping forward to give the Countess a nobleman’s bow.

“So you are Baron Victor. I didn’t expect you to be so young,” Sylvia said, smiling at Victor. She asked with concern, “I heard you were attacked by bandits and were injured. How are you now?”

“Ahem, my lady, I was just discussing the matter of Baron Victor assuming his post in the Wimbledon barony with him,” York coughed, interrupting his wife’s warm greeting to Victor.

“Oh? What is this all about?” the Countess asked, turning her lovely face to the scribe standing beside Earl York.

The scribe dared not hesitate and recounted the entire conversation between Earl York and Victor in detail.

“Anbither, Sophia is a dear friend of mine, whom I’ve known for years. Is there anything you can do to help poor Victor?” the Countess began to press her husband.

“My lady, it’s not that I’m unfeeling, but as the Governor-General here, I cannot openly defy the Lord’s Law. Besides, the Council of State requires all lords in the Centaur Hills to complete their sowing before the end of this year’s Season of Water… There’s truly nothing I can do,” York said, shaking his head with a bitter smile.

“Then send knights to clear the bandits from Baron Wimbledon’s fief,” Sylvia said coldly, seeming quite displeased with her husband’s evasiveness.

“Those bandits have all gone into hiding. I’ve sent men to encircle and suppress them several times, but we couldn’t find a trace of them. Right now, gnolls and goblins in the various fiefs are frequently harassing farmers, and I’ve heard someone spotted an ogre… Our knights are completely overwhelmed. Where would we find the time to chase a few scattered bandits?” York explained helplessly, pulling out a silk handkerchief to wipe the cold sweat from his forehead.

“My lord, there is another way,” the attendant scribe suggested from the side. “Lord Wimbledon’s main predicament is the bandits roaming his lands. The Lord Baron has not yet finished recruiting his guards, so going to assume his duties now would indeed be very risky. Therefore, I suggest exchanging territories with him.”

“According to the laws of the kingdom, the ownership of a pioneer fief can be freely exchanged once. If the Lord Baron swaps his fief with another barony, he won’t have to face the bandits without his guards. Moreover, the exchange documents must be sent to the Senate for filing. Naturally, this period cannot be counted as the Lord Baron being overdue, which would give Lord Wimbledon time to recruit guards and subjects. And the Lord Governor-General will not be held accountable by the chancellery.”

“An excellent idea! Then who would be willing to exchange fiefs with the Baron?” York said, slapping the table and turning to ask.

“My lord, your younger brother, Lord Viscount Fredrick York, has pioneered a viscounty in the southwestern part of the hills. He has already built a castle and has just received the hereditary charter approved by the Senate. You could ask if he is willing,” the scribe proposed.

“Victor, what do you think of this proposal?” York patted his own belly in satisfaction, looking at Victor like a greedy badger eyeing a poor quail.

“But, the Gold Sols I brought were stolen by bandits. I have no funds to recruit guards and subjects now,” Victor said with a frown, inwardly marveling at the York family’s brilliant performance.

“I’ll lend it to you! Twenty, no, ten thousand Gold Sols! Just sign this,” York said through gritted teeth. He took a document from a drawer and gestured for the scribe to hand it to Victor.

“This amount is still a little insufficient… I have a Wimbledon family ring here. Mmm, it’s a family heirloom from my father. I am willing to transfer it to the Lord Earl for the low price of seventy thousand Gold Sols,” Victor said, taking a yellow-glazed crystal ring from his index finger and placing it on the exchange document.

“Quick, bring it here for me to see!” Earl York shouted impatiently at the attendant holding the document and the ring. When he saw Sylvia staring at him coldly, he sheepishly passed the ring he had just received to his wife.

“Isn’t this ring a style that’s only become popular in the Royal Capital in the last few months? I heard it’s a new design by the master jeweler Benjamin, imitating an ancient style. As it happens, I have a few of the same model inlaid with blue diamonds, and each one is worth three thousand Gold Sols,” Sylvia said, holding the ring in her fair, jade-like hand and looking at Victor with a smile.

“The Countess has a discerning eye. Master Benjamin was, in fact, inspired by this ancestral ring of mine when he designed his new, ancient-style rings,” Victor replied with a slight smile. The beauty and elegance of his Moon Elf bloodline gave his smile an enchanting charm. The female guard stared for a moment, two crimson clouds rising on her cheeks as she shyly lowered her head.

Seeing Victor spout such earnest nonsense, a trace of admiration appeared in Sylvia’s bright eyes.

“Fifty thousand Gold Sols, Baron Wimbledon. I will be hosting a dinner for you tonight at Rose Manor to celebrate your recovery. I will send someone to pick you up. Please do me the honor of attending,” Sylvia said, giving Victor a sidelong glance from her watery eyes as she extended the invitation.

“As you wish, my beautiful lady,” Victor replied, bowing gracefully to Sylvia.

Chapter 6: The Dinner Party

Returning to his temporary guest room, Victor bolted the door, let out a long breath, and walked over to the desk. He pulled out a chair, sat down, and took a dull, yellowed parchment scroll from his pocket, unfurling it on the tabletop.

This was a registration deed for a hereditary fief in the Centaur Hills. It certified that a piece of land of over twelve thousand square kilometers in the southwestern corner of the Centaur Hills was a legitimate territory recognized by the Kingdom of Gambia. It would be protected by the kingdom’s army, be subject to its taxes, and its lord was Baron Victor Wimbledon, the fief to be passed down hereditarily through his family.

This was a vast territory, far exceeding the size of a typical barony and even larger than most viscounties. Yet, Victor’s thin eyebrows furrowed. Although the fief was large, its location was far too remote. To its south lay the Goldwater River, and to its west, it bordered the Great Marsh of unknown expanse. It was said that a race of beastmen—Lizardmen—even lived in the marsh.

Baron Wimbledon’s fief was a great distance from the political and economic center of the Centaur Hills, Black Fortress Town. A trip there would likely take ten days by horse, and at least thirty days on foot.

With such a great distance, Victor didn’t believe for a second that the York family had ever developed that land.

The thought of the swarms of Goblins, Kobolds, and foul-smelling Gnolls that roamed the wilderness, perhaps alongside even more terrifying monsters, made Victor’s scalp tingle.

But Victor had no regrets. Escaping the struggle for the throne was the most pressing matter, and while the fief was remote, it better suited his current circumstances.

The Yorks were a ducal family. When the king was in peril, they held back their troops and watched him die, yet they managed to escape unscathed, without any substantial punishment. This showed just how powerful they were. King Ryan’s death was suspicious, likely tied to the power struggle for the Gambian throne. The York family were clearly supporters of Grand Duke Williams; the young baron, having grown up in Aerie Fortress as a page, naturally belonged to the Queen’s faction.

To be rashly drawn into a political struggle between two behemoths would, with the slightest misstep, lead to a gruesome end, with not even an intact corpse left behind. In reality, the York family had already made a move against the young baron. Victor was not the original Baron Wimbledon; there was no need to risk his own life in loyal service to the Queen and Prince Edward. Besides, it was exceedingly strange that Marchioness Sophia hadn’t even sent a single knight, instead sending the powerless young baron, who lacked the strength to even truss a chicken, to be a lord in the Centaur Hills all by himself.

Baron Wimbledon’s situation was so perilous and bizarre that Victor, of course, intended to run as far away as possible.

When the time came, he would recruit a mercenary company and farmers who had lost their land due to the war near Black Fortress. Once he reached his new fief, as long as he relied on the castle to develop slowly, his safety should be guaranteed… Thinking of this, Victor couldn’t help but squeeze a lizard-skin pouch hanging from his waist.

Inside the pouch were fifty Purple Gold Coins issued by the Gambian royal family. The obverse of the coins was engraved with a high mountain and a rising sun, representing the divine authority of the Lord of Radiance. The reverse was engraved with a soaring eagle, representing the imperial authority of the Randt Empire. As a vassal state of the Randt Empire, the Kingdom of Gambia was not yet qualified to inscribe its own crest on its currency.

The Gambian royal family promised that each Purple Gold Coin could be exchanged for one thousand Gold Sols at the Royal Capital’s Department of Internal Affairs. Recalling the grief-stricken expression on Earl York’s face when he had produced the Purple Gold Coins, Victor felt a secret thrill of satisfaction.

These fifty thousand Gold Sols, along with the knowledge and skills stored in the X-3 Chip, were the foundation of Victor’s confidence in developing the wild fief.

He just couldn’t concern himself with the thunderous rage Marchioness Sophia and Her Majesty the Queen would feel when news of Baron Wimbledon’s betrayal reached the Royal Capital.

A set of light footsteps approached from outside the door. Victor put away the coins and the document, and a knock came right on cue.

“Lord Baron, I have come on the Countess’s orders to escort you to the dinner party,” a clear, pleasant voice sounded from outside.

Victor opened the door to see the tall, beautiful female guard standing gracefully at the entrance.

“Please, lead the way,” Victor said, smiling at the dashing beauty.

The tall beauty was slightly taken aback, then turned with a hint of flurry to lead the way.

Victor followed behind the female guard. Her legs were long and straight, her waist slender and her hips pert, swaying gracefully as she walked. Victor’s gaze couldn’t help but linger on the slender waist and beautiful legs before him.

A moment later, Victor noticed her posture had become a little unnatural. Looking closer, he saw that even her earlobes had turned a pinkish hue of羞恼. A chill ran down Victor’s spine.

Such keen perception. She might not be a Knight, but she couldn’t be far from it. Fortunately, she doesn’t seem to hold any aversion towards me… Victor thought with relief.

Knights were the pinnacle of human strength, and even noble lords had to treat them with respect.

An ornate four-wheeled carriage was already waiting by the roadside. Victor and the female guard entered the carriage one after the other. The coachman flicked the reins, and the carriage began to move forward slowly.

“How rude of me. I have yet to ask for this beautiful lady’s distinguished name,” Victor said, looking at the female guard, whose face was still slightly flushed, trying to ease the awkward atmosphere.

“I… My name is Nicole,” the female guard said, her expression instantly dimming.

In the human kingdoms, commoners and servants had no family names. Knightly bloodlines mostly came from the nobility, and a knight’s squire was usually the child of a noble. A squire like Nicole, without a surname, indicated that her mother was likely a maid in the York household.

According to noble tradition, the offspring of a maid and a nobleman were still considered lower-class. Unless Nicole advanced to the rank of Knight, her status would forever be beneath that of a titled noble. On average, only one in five apprentice knights ever became a full knight.

Victor wanted to comfort her but didn’t know where to begin. The two of them sat in silence. Before they knew it, the carriage had arrived at Victor’s destination—Rose Manor.

The manor’s old, white-haired steward led Victor to a large door, bowed in respect, and said, “Lord Baron, the dinner will begin in a moment. You may rest in the drawing-room for now.”

Victor nodded to the steward, gently pushed open the ornately carved golden-thread wood doors, and stepped into the room. His eyes were met with pink curtains, a snow-white cashmere carpet, a lavish ivory bed, an exquisite dressing table, and, reclining on a long chaise longue, a woman with alluring curves.

This was clearly a noblewoman’s bedroom… Victor immediately turned to pull the door, wanting to leave, only to find it had been locked from the outside.

A soft, charming voice rang out in the room, “Baron Victor, you are being so rude, barging into my bedroom like this.”

The woman on the chaise longue slowly rose. Her golden hair was draped carelessly over her fair shoulders, and her glistening, beautiful eyes watched Victor with a faint, teasing smile. It was none other than the Countess York.

Victor composed himself and was about to say something when he saw the Countess gracefully approach. A red, low-cut spider-silk robe accentuated her snow-white skin. As her slender waist swayed, her long, shapely legs flashed in and out of sight through the slit in her skirt.

Victor’s mouth went dry, and for a moment, he was at a loss for words. As the Countess drew near, a fragrant scent washed over him. He felt a wave of embarrassment, his gaze hastily shifting downward, only to see her jade-like feet, her pink toenails glittering like crystal, dazzling and mesmerizing him all the more.

“Baron Wimbledon, where are you looking?” the Countess purred, placing a slender hand on Victor’s chest, a teasing smile playing on her lips.

“Countess, I…”

“Call me Sylvia,” the Countess said, reaching out to cover Victor’s lips with her slender hand. She spun around, linked her arm with his, and led him further into the room. “I heard that Sophia once had Countess Ariel, the head of the court ladies, personally teach you etiquette. Why don’t we… discuss courtly etiquette before dinner?”

In Victor’s memories, the lessons taught by Countess Ariel were all techniques on how to please women. The court lady would even occasionally bring in beautiful, masked women to instruct him.

The original Baron Wimbledon was no stranger to the decadent life of the nobility, but the current Victor was an imposter. This sultry scene left him flustered and completely at a loss, and he could only allow Sylvia to do with him as she pleased.

Chapter 7: Sorcerers and the Church

The next morning, the female guard Nicole saw Victor off to his carriage with a blank expression.

Aboard the carriage, Victor recalled Nicole’s gaze, which seemed to hold a mix of resentment and reproach, and he felt a strange sense of guilt. He shook his head, driving the odd thought from his mind.

Right now, the most important thing was to set off for his new fiefdom before the Wimbledon family could react.

After all, Victor had caused the plans the Marchioness Wimbledon had spent hundreds of thousands of Gold Sols on in the Centaur Hills to go down the drain. He certainly wouldn’t be able to withstand the retaliation that was sure to come from the Prince’s Faction.

However, once Victor reached his remote new territory, it wouldn’t be easy for the family to hold him accountable.

First, even if Marchioness Sophia sent an envoy to summon Victor back to the Royal Capital to answer for his actions, he could simply hide in his fiefdom and refuse to see them. There was little they could do to a lord in his own domain.

Second, the Williams’ faction had long considered the Centaur Hills their own backyard. They would never stand by and watch the Prince’s Faction dispatch an army or powerful Knights deep into the Centaur Hills to punish Victor.

Therefore, Victor decided to recruit guards and subjects and purchase supplies and equipment as quickly as possible. He had to depart for his new post within three days at most.

Upon entering Black Fortress, Victor went straight back to his room. He had barely sat down when he heard a knock on the door.

When he opened it, a Black Fortress attendant bowed respectfully to Victor and said, “Lord Baron, Bishop Pedro will be holding a Purification Ceremony in the Black Fortress town square this noon. As is tradition, all nobles in Black Fortress Town are expected to attend. We implore you to be present.”

A thought struck Victor, and he asked, “They’ve caught a Sorcerer? When did this happen?”

The so-called Purification Ceremony was the Radiant Church’s term for burning a person with Sorcerer’s blood—body and soul—to ash with holy fire in a public square. For every Purification Ceremony, the Radiant Church required local nobles and commoners to observe, so as to display the Church’s justice and authority.

In Victor’s memory, the Radiant Church had a history of over seven thousand years, older than any empire in human history. It could be said that the Radiant Church was the most powerful force in the human world.

Sorcerers were people born with extraordinary power. Before awakening, they were no different from ordinary people, but once awakened, they gained all sorts of abilities—elemental control, physical mutation, animating the inanimate, manipulating the undead, and so on. The abilities of Sorcerers were diverse, varying in strength and spanning every field. Some Sorcerers could shift stars and part seas; some could spread plagues and wipe out entire cities and clans; and some could only perform minor tricks, like making a stone glow.

No matter their abilities, all Sorcerers were the mortal enemies of the Church.

According to the Radiant Church, over nine thousand years ago, the human world was ruled by Sorcerers who wielded extraordinary power. They occupied cities or ruled nations, called themselves the God-Chosen, and subjected the common people to cruel tyranny. From time to time, they would even perform brutal blood sacrifices with their subjects to gain power from demons.

The wails and prayers of the people awakened the slumbering Lord of Radiance. He saw through the true nature of the God-Chosen and dispatched his twelve Radiant Archangels, who descended with a divine oracle to select saints from among the populace and form the Radiant Church. The Church led the people through decades of bloody warfare, ultimately overthrowing the rule of the God-Chosen and declaring them Sorcerers—agents of demons, the personification of evil.

For thousands of years, one human kingdom after another had risen and fallen, but the Radiant Church had always stood firm. The Church’s clergy healed the sick, mediated wars, raised orphans, and punished cruel lords to protect their subjects. This gave the Radiant Church immense influence among the common people. But the Church never spared any effort in its mission to eliminate Sorcerers, even at the cost of great sacrifice.

The Sorcerers, unwilling to be slaughtered, had formed many organizations over the millennia to resist the Church. The most famous of these was the Pantheon.

Fifteen hundred years ago, the Church fought a decisive battle against the Pantheon’s two great Sorcerers, the Blair siblings. The Church sacrificed seven Archbishops, one Pontiff, and one Pope. More than thirty-three hundred members of the clergy died in battle. In the end, it took the descent of six Radiant Archangels to finally purify the Blair siblings. After that battle, no Sorcerer organization could ever again challenge the Church head-on.

Although the Radiant Church had destroyed the Pantheon, its own strength was severely diminished, and its control over secular lords began to weaken. Human kingdoms took the opportunity to rise, beginning to have a greater say in the human world. The hardliners within the Church were unwilling to see their power curtailed, and the conflict between the Church and the nobility grew increasingly sharp.

Three hundred years ago, a dramatic change occurred within the Church. The human nobility seized the opportunity to make their move, sending troops to the City of Light, the capital of the Church’s domain, the Theocracy of Ayr. Ultimately, the conflict ended with the Church’s compromise. The Church’s authorities and representatives of the human nobility signed the famous New Covenant of Light.

The Radiant Church declared that temporal power belonged to the nobility, and spiritual authority belonged to the Church. The Theocracy of Ayr was officially renamed the Kingdom of Ayr and incorporated into the Randt Empire.

The Papacy lost its authority over the Church and the secular world. The hereditary Pope became a figurehead, while the daily affairs of the Church were managed by the Pontiff and the various bishops. The monasteries were governed by the Council of Elders of the Monastic Order, and the Inquisition was run by its Grand Inquisitor and his deputy.

Although the Radiant Church’s power was constrained as never before, its campaign against Sorcerers never ceased. This time, a Sorcerer had been captured near Black Fortress. In accordance with the New Covenant of Light, the Church had dispatched a high-ranking cleric to preside over the ceremony and required the lord of Black Fortress to sign the death warrant, as a sign of the Radiant Church’s respect for the secular authority of the lord. The Church would carry out the Purification Ceremony under the watchful eyes of the nobility to prove it was not abusing its spiritual authority.

“My lord, ten days ago, three bodies were discovered in the basement of the Lamb’s Inn in Black Fortress Town. After an examination, the constable determined it was the site of a vile demon-summoning ritual. The constable reported it to the resident priest, Father Ivan. The reverend priest performed a Demon-Detecting Prayer and discovered that the town’s gardener, Will, was an evil Sorcerer. That is why Father Ivan requested Bishop Pedro to come and preside over the Purification Ceremony,” the attendant explained to Victor.

Victor’s pupils contracted slightly. Ten days ago was precisely when he had transmigrated. He recalled the demonic god from his memories, the one that had shattered the young baron’s soul. Could there be a connection?

“Did you just say Bishop Pedro is here to preside over the ceremony personally?” Victor asked.

“Yes, my Lord.”

Bishop Pedro was the bishop for the western region of the Kingdom of Gambia. He was a man of high status. Normally, an ordinary Purification Ceremony would not require his personal presence.

Unless the Sorcerer they had caught this time was no ordinary one!

However, although the Centaur Hills covered a vast area, the Radiant Church’s influence on this newly-developed land was still very weak, with only a few priests preaching in a limited number of places. This time, having caught a Sorcerer, it was perfectly reasonable for the Church to dispatch a bishop to preside over the ceremony to strengthen its influence over the new territory.

“Was the captured Sorcerer new to Black Fortress Town?” Victor asked next, trying to figure out if this Sorcerer was related to the death of the young baron.

“My Lord, Will the gardener has lived in Black Fortress Town for three years. He was a settler who retreated from the Eastern Provinces. No one knew he was actually a hidden Sorcerer.”

After dismissing the messenger, Victor fell into deep thought.

Judging by the timing, the Sorcerer Will, who had lived here for three years, was probably not the one who murdered the young baron. And Bishop Pedro’s arrival in Black Fortress Town also seemed to have a logical explanation.

Since he couldn’t reach a conclusion, Victor set his worries aside and decided to go see for himself.

TRANSLATION ENDS

{“characters”: {“培罗主教”: “Bishop Pedro”, “索菲娅侯爵”: “Marchioness Sophia”, “温布尔顿女侯爵”: “the Marchioness Wimbledon”, “布莱尔姐弟”: “the Blair siblings”, “伊万牧师”: “Priest Ivan”, “威尔”: “Will”, “男爵大人”: “Lord Baron”}, “locations”: {“艾尔教国”: “Theocracy of Ayr”, “光明城”: “City of Light”, “艾尔王国”: “Kingdom of Ayr”, “东部行省”: “Eastern Provinces”, “羔羊旅馆”: “Lamb’s Inn”}, “organizations”: {“温布尔顿家族”: “Wimbledon family”, “王子党”: “Prince’s Faction”, “威廉姆斯一派”: “Williams’ faction”, “万神殿”: “the Pantheon”, “修道院”: “Monastery”, “隐修会长老团”: “Council of Elders of the Monastic Order”, “宗教裁判所”: “the Inquisition”}, “terms_and_jargon”: {“巫师”: “Sorcerer”, “净化仪式”: “Purification Ceremony”, “圣火”: “holy fire”, “神选者”: “God-Chosen”, “血祭”: “blood sacrifice”, “光辉大天使”: “Radiant Archangel”, “圣徒”: “saint”, “大主教”: “Archbishop”, “教宗”: “Pontiff”, “教皇”: “Pope”, “光明新约”: “New Covenant of Light”, “治权”: “temporal power”, “神权”: “spiritual authority”, “高阶神职者”: “high-ranking cleric”, “招魔仪式”: “demon-summoning ritual”, “治安官”: “constable”, “驻堡神父”: “resident priest”, “鉴魔祈祷”: “Demon-Detecting Prayer”}}

Chapter 8: The Ritual

The Season of Water was the coldest and dampest time of the year. Although the midday sun had dispersed the cold mist shrouding Black Fortress Town, the square in front of the grand cathedral, paved with bluestone slabs, remained wet.

Led by an attendant, Victor ascended the high platform that had just been erected in front of the square. The nobles of Black Fortress Town who were already seated either ignored the approaching Baron Wimbledon, sneered in disdain, or glared at him with anger. With a calm expression, Victor walked before Earl York and Bishop Pello, performed a nobleman’s bow, and announced, “Victor Wimbledon greets Your Lordship the Earl, and Your Grace the Bishop.”

The portly Earl York shot him a look and snorted with contempt, clearly still bitter about Victor extorting fifty Purple Gold Coins from him.

Bishop Pello, beside him, was rather amiable and friendly. He nodded and said, “Baron Wimbledon, there is no need for such ceremony. Please, take a seat and witness the coming purification ritual.”

Victor straightened up and, with a discreet glance, imprinted Bishop Pello’s image into his mind with the aid of the X-3 Chip.

Bishop Pello had an ordinary face and build, with distinct wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and on his forehead. At first glance, he looked like a weather-beaten old farmer. But his eyes were serene, and though he wore the cheapest of linen monk’s robes, it was spotless. A faint, platinum radiance emanated from him from time to time, lending him a sacred, inviolable dignity.

Victor also noticed the thick calluses on Bishop Pello’s palms and fingers, likely marks left from frequently gripping heavy weapons. Beneath his seemingly thin and withered forearms were muscles coiled like steel rebar.

Pello, as the bishop of the Kingdom of Gambia’s western province, was well-cared for and held a high position of power, yet he was not arrogant or extravagant, nor was he lax. It was no fluke that the Radiant Church had dominated the continent for millennia, Victor couldn’t help but marvel.

At that moment, a four-meter-tall copper pillar was erected in the center of the square, and the people of Black Fortress Town began to gather. Two iron rings were set into the top of the copper pillar, with fine iron chains as thick as a child’s arm hanging down from each. For millennia, pillars like this one had ended the lives of countless wizards.

“I heard the wizard they caught this time is Will the town gardener, right?”

“Will always seemed so honest and proper, going to the church to pray every morning and evening without fail for years. Father even praised him in person, calling him a pious man. To think he was an evil wizard.”

“Hmph, I knew there was something wrong with him all along.”

A man gloated to the gossiping crowd, parading his own wisdom. When his neighbors snorted in derision, he said indignantly:

“Will is just the son of a groom. Instead of learning to drive a carriage, he became a gardener. And the flowers he tended were even better than the ones I, a third-generation gardener, cultivate. The stewards of the big houses secretly told me that the flowers he delivered were so fragrant and would last a month in a vase without wilting. At first, I thought he had some secret method, so I watched him secretly for a long time, but I couldn’t find any secret at all… Tsk, tsk, his gardening skills looked even worse than mine… Heh, that’s when I knew there was something wrong with him.”

Seeing the crowd’s looks of sudden understanding, the man grew even more smug, unaware that their conversation, from over twenty meters away, had been heard by Victor.

Victor remained expressionless. Using the X-3 Chip to filter out the useful information, he became even more certain that the wizard who had tried to murder the young baron was someone else entirely!

Just then, a path was cleared through the crowd. Two paladins clad in silvery-white armor were dragging a limp figure on the ground toward the copper pillar in the center of the square.

Victor focused his mind, adjusted his vision, and magnified the image until it was perfectly clear.

The man being half-dragged, half-carried by the church warriors was the wizard, Will. He wore a blood-stained linen tunic, his legs twisted at unnatural angles, clearly broken. His bruised face was drained of all color, and his damp hair was a mess on his forehead. His pale lips quivered incessantly, and his eyes were filled with terror and despair.

Victor noted that the unfortunate gardener’s muscles were slack, his will had collapsed, and his hands bore no marks of regularly gripping a weapon. He was, in every way, an ordinary man.

As Will the gardener was dragged before the execution pillar, the paladins lowered the chains and shackled his wrists.

Perhaps knowing his time was short, Will the gardener began to struggle.

“What are you doing?! Let me go! Let me go! I’m not an evil man!”

“Please, let me go! You’ve made a mistake!”

The two paladins ignored him. They each grabbed the other end of a chain and, with a hard pull, hoisted Will the gardener into the air.

A moment later, the burly Father Ivan, clad in chainmail and holding a platinum scepter, walked from the cathedral’s passageway toward the high platform where the bishop and the noble lords sat.

Seeing a familiar face, Will the gardener grew even more agitated. He cried out to the priest, begging, “Lord Ivan, please save me! I am a pious man, not a demon! I’m begging you…”

“Silence, you heretic!” Father Ivan, his hair and beard bristling with righteous fury, angrily rebuked the wizard. Then, he reverently presented the platinum scepter to Pello.

This scepter was cast from the rare metals mithril and adamantine into the image of a weeping angel. The angel’s face was sorrowful, tears streaming from its eyes. Its body was bound to a pillar, the bottom of which formed the scepter’s handle, while its uplifted wings and bound hands formed the top.

Bishop Pello took the Scepter of the Weeping Angel and raised it high. His linen robe stirred without a wind as motes of light emerged from his body and converged at the top of the scepter. White runes materialized from the void, circling the scepter, and with a sudden roar, a Platinum Sacred Flame ignited at its peak.

Witnessing this miracle, cries of praise rose from the crowd. The nobles on the platform also showed expressions of awe. Satisfied, Bishop Pello handed the scepter back to Father Ivan.

Seeing the priest approach with the sacred-flamed scepter held high, the gardener knew there was no escape. He closed his eyes in despair, his lips murmuring a prayer he knew by heart from his daily life:

“Lord, I pray you forgive my sins and guide my way…”

“Blasphemy!” a paladin snarled in a low voice, swinging his sheathed longsword upwards.

Thwack! The longsword slammed into the gardener’s jaw. Blood and a few teeth scattered across the square. Amidst gasps of shock, the surrounding crowd seemed to fear being spattered by the wizard’s blood, scrambling backward and causing a stir.

Bishop Pello’s face turned livid. Victor’s mind stirred, and he seized the opportunity to speak: “Your Grace, I’ve heard that wizards are masters of disguise. This gardener looks like a pathetic wretch, yet he’s an evil wizard who killed three innocent people. It’s truly hard to believe.”

Bishop Pello’s expression softened slightly. He pondered for a moment before saying, “Indeed, wizards are skilled at disguise, and ordinary people find it hard to tell them apart. Even we of the clergy cannot see anything unusual without performing a Demon-Detecting Prayer. However, those three deaths had nothing to do with this wizard.”

“Oh? Does that mean there is another wizard who has not been caught?” Victor stared intently at Bishop Pello, his brow furrowed as if greatly disturbed.

Bishop Pello glanced at the slightly restless nobles and explained, “Not at all. Of the three deceased, one was an evildoer, and the other two were sacrifices for his wicked ritual. That wizard suffered a demonic backlash while performing the ritual and died during it. So, there is no need for any of you to be alarmed. Our church’s clergy have already performed the Demon-Detecting Prayer and confirmed that there are no other wizards in the vicinity of Black Fortress.”

Victor quickly glanced at Earl York and saw him lifting his round chin contemptuously, as if scorning the cowardice of the other nobles. Clearly, Earl York had known all of this for some time.

From the fat man’s expression, Victor believed that what Bishop Pello said was true.

“Ah!”

Amidst a piercing scream, Will the gardener was ignited by the Platinum Sacred Flame. The fire grew from small to large, beginning to consume his body.

Just as the gardener struggled in agony, streams of green light suddenly burst forth from within him, simultaneously mending his charred and withered body while trying to drive out the Platinum Sacred Flame. The sacred flame seemed to feed on this green light, growing ever stronger and more vigorous.

“He really is an evil wizard!”

“Burn him! Burn him quickly!”

“Lord! Please protect us.” A wave of panicked prayers, curses, and cheers erupted from the crowd.

The green light was forced upward by the Platinum Sacred Flame, finally erupting from the top of the gardener’s head. Green runes materialized from the void, only to disintegrate one by one into motes of green light. These motes sprinkled down within a ten-meter radius of the copper pillar, and blades of grass and vines began to grow from the cracks between the bluestone slabs at a visible rate.

As more and more green motes of light fell, the hard bluestone could no longer resist the burgeoning power of life. Thick vines shattered the slabs and surged toward the copper pillar like bared fangs and claws.

“You will not succeed! You will not succeed!”

The gardener’s tragic howl carried a heart-stopping authority and fury. The platinum sacred flames erupted from his eyes, burning his entire body to nothingness.

In an instant, the square was silent, covered in lush green grass and flowers in full bloom.

Chapter 9: The War Bear Mercenary Company

Old Jack’s Tavern was located in the southwest corner of Black Fortress Town. The area was remote, surrounded by stinking stables and pigsties, yet the tavern’s business was always booming.

This was because Old Jack’s Tavern was the site of Black Fortress Town’s black market. Every day, even before nightfall, mercenaries, traveling merchants, information brokers, bards, and women of the night would file in and out of the tavern, each with their own purpose.

Inside this tavern, one could buy many things that were unavailable anywhere else, provided one had the coin.

Narsen sat listlessly in a corner of Old Jack’s Tavern, a heavy battle-axe laid across the sturdy oak table before him.

Laying a weapon across a tavern table signified that he was a mercenary waiting to be hired. The lack of food or drink on the table simply meant Narsen was broke.

It was freezing outside, but the tavern was as warm as spring. A fire pit burned in the center of the room, its leaping flames licking a large cauldron suspended above. A dozen cured rabbits tumbled in the milky-white broth, their rich aroma teasing the appetite of everyone present.

The tavern owner, Hal, would never drive out a penniless mercenary, but one couldn’t expect him to hand out even a swig of cheap mare’s milk wine worth a mere three Copper Sols for free. For now, all Narsen could do was swallow his saliva at the sight of the cured rabbits.

The tavern door was pushed open. Narsen looked up to see the owner, Hal, wearing a fawning smile as he led several figures completely hidden by cloaks up to a private room on the second floor. Narsen knew who these people were; they were subordinates of Black Fortress’s quartermaster and often brought obsolete military supplies for Hal to sell. Narsen’s own War Bear Mercenary Company had once bought two obsolete crossbows from Hal. Aside from the insignia having been ground off, Narsen couldn’t see anything about them that warranted being “obsolete.”

The door was violently thrown open again. A one-eyed brute, fully 1.9 meters tall, rushed in with a gust of frigid wind, earning a loud string of curses from the mercenaries sitting near the entrance.

“Chief, it really was free.” The one-eyed man paid no heed to the provocative mercenaries, walking straight to Narsen’s table and dropping two loaves of black bread, each weighing a full ten pounds, onto the table with a thud.

The few mercenaries who had been planning to have a talk with the one-eyed man using their fists saw that he was with Narsen and quickly sat back down, loudly debating which of the barmaids had a bigger rear end, as if nothing had happened.

“Where are the others?” Narsen picked up a loaf of black bread and began to chew. The rock-hard loaf was as crisp as a freshly baked oatcake in his mouth.

“Lilia is still in line at the church with them, trying to get a few more loaves,” the one-eyed man grumbled, scratching his short, messy brown hair. “It’d be great if the church caught a few more Wizards. Then we could get more free bread.” After every Purification Ceremony, the church would distribute free food to the local populace, an ancient tradition that continued to this day.

Narsen devoured the five-pound loaf of black bread in just a few bites and grinned at the one-eyed man. “Wizards aren’t so easy to catch. The one they caught in Dodor eight years ago killed more than twenty people before the Paladins finally subdued him. For them to catch a Wizard in Black Fortress without anyone dying is incredibly rare.”

The one-eyed man licked his chapped lips and said with a serious expression, “Chief, the Wyverns sent me another message. They want to talk to you.”

Narsen’s gaze hardened. He stared into the one-eyed man’s eyes and asked in a low voice, “Gru, what do you think?”

“Chief, I’ll follow your lead,” the one-eyed Gru said, meeting Narsen’s intense gaze without flinching. After a moment’s hesitation, he added, “But… Iron Hammer and the others seem pretty tempted.”

“If they want to leave, I won’t stop them. But I need to be clear with all of you: the Wyverns are not clean,” Narsen said with a sigh. “I’ve always suspected they’re an outer branch of the Blood Fox Bandit Gang. Merging with them will lead to no good.”

“Our War Bear Mercenary Company has been around for over twenty years. We’ve fought the Sassans in the north and wiped out Gnoll tribes in the south, but the ones we’ve fought the most are bandit gangs. The Old Captain was gravely injured in a fight with bandits, and before he died, he handed the company over to me. I still remember what he told me: ‘Thieves have no future, but mercenaries do!’” Narsen stroked the battle-axe on the table, his voice a mixture of reminiscence and, more than anything, resolve.

“Chief, you saved me from bandits six years ago. It was a bandit who shot out this eye of mine. Don’t you worry, Chief, this life is yours! I’d rather starve to death than work for bandits! I’m going to find Iron Hammer and the others right now and set them straight!” Gru stood up excitedly and started to rush out.

“Sit down!” Narsen called out to Gru, his expression dejected.

“I know what Iron Hammer and the others are thinking. All these years, our brothers… those who weren’t dead were crippled… Iron Hammer told me in private to dismiss the wounded and disabled brothers. Only then, he said, could the company continue to grow… He has a point, but I just don’t have the heart to do it.”

Narsen spoke with a sense of helplessness. “This time, with the Kingdom of Gambia opening up the Centaur Hills, I brought everyone here to try our luck, to see if we could get recruited by that lord and become his family guards. It would have been a way out for everyone. I just didn’t expect…”

Gru fell silent. The War Bear Mercenary Company’s strength was among the best of its peers, especially its captain, Narsen, who was a top-tier fighter among mercenaries. But there were too many old, weak, and disabled members in the company. Out of more than forty members, a full eleven of them were no longer fit for combat. Every time they tried to take a job, the employer would see all the cripples and shake their head. Now, it had been a long time since the War Bear Mercenary Company had taken on a new mission.

Being recruited by a lord as family guards was indeed a good way out for mercenaries. But what nobleman was willing to support so many useless mouths for free?

The two of them sat in silence. Narsen casually picked up a large bundle from the floor and tossed it onto the table. Its heavy weight made the table sag.

Patting the bundle gently, Narsen said with some reluctance, “Looks like this is the only thing left to sell.”

“Chief, isn’t that your half plate armor? You can’t sell that!” Gru shot to his feet.

Most mercenaries were only equipped with leather armor; very few could even afford chainmail. Sturdy plate armor could block most attacks, but its immense weight made it impossible for those without sufficient strength to bear, and its exorbitant price made it prohibitive for mercenaries.

This half plate armor was a gift Narsen had received from a merchant after defeating a bandit gang that was plundering his caravan. Normally, Narsen treasured the armor, insisting on doing all the maintenance himself.

And now, Narsen was actually going to sell it! A wave of bitterness washed over Gru.

“That’s enough. The company is almost out of money, and we can’t get any work right now. We’ll sell it to get through this emergency,” Narsen said. He then picked up the bundle and walked toward the bar.

“Get Hal out here. I’ve got something for him to look at,” Narsen said gruffly to the bartender, dropping the bundle on the counter.

A moment later, the owner, Hal, came out. He felt the bundle on the counter and said with a beaming smile, “Captain Narsen, before you sell this half plate, I’d like to introduce you to a very important person.”

Narsen eyed the tavern owner cautiously and asked in a low voice, “An important person? Who?”

“Lord Baron Wimbledon!”

Chapter 10: Recruitment

Lilia was very happy.

The sun was shining brightly today, and the usually cold streets had become much warmer. Such fine weather was a rare sight in the Season of Water. The vibrant young woman was dressed in a suit of full-body rhino-hide armor. Thick, overlapping layers of leather enveloped her delicate, well-proportioned figure. It was both practical and beautiful. Even as the sister of the company’s chief, Narsen, she had never owned such fine leather armor before. However, what truly brought Lilia joy was the emblem engraved on the armor: under the light of a bright moon, a nightingale sang from a rose branch.

This emblem was a noble family’s crest. Lilia didn’t understand its full meaning, but she knew that she was now a family guard to a lord, and that everyone else in the mercenary company had become guards for this family too—even the uncles who had been wounded and disabled in battle.

Basking in the envious and jealous gazes of other mercenaries, Lilia returned to the War Bear Mercenary Company’s post. Before she even entered the temporary post, which had been converted from a stable, Lilia could hear a clamor of boisterous shouts and cheers from within. Opening the wooden fence, she saw the two hulks, One-Eyed Dragon Gru and Iron Hammer, wrestling on the ground, with the other War Bear mercenaries cheering them on loudly.

“Gru, put some muscle into it! Pin him, and this suit of full-body chainmail is yours!”

“Haven’t you eaten, Iron Hammer? If you don’t give it your all, this little beauty is going to end up in the One-Eyed Dragon’s arms! Haha!”

Lilia shot the boorish men an annoyed glare, pushed through the jubilant crowd, and walked straight into the room inside.

“Brother, I’m back,” Lilia called out to Narsen, who had his back to her and was studying a map.

Hearing his sister’s voice, Narsen turned around and asked with a smile, “Lilia, how did things go?”

“Brother, the grain and farm tools have all been purchased. The carts and livestock will be delivered to our post shortly. However, the recruitment of settlers isn’t going well.”

Lilia hesitated for a couple of seconds before confessing honestly to Narsen, “Linda, Old John, and the others are still recruiting in the shantytown outside the city. By the time I left, they’d only managed to get a few dozen people… I don’t think we’ll be able to complete the task that lord gave us.”

Lilia was a little dejected. Narsen frowned, his thick eyebrows knitting together, and nodded. “Is that so? Alright, in a little while, take Gru, Iron Hammer, and the others with you. Have them dress sharply and bring more black bread. That should help us recruit a few more people.” He patted his sister’s shoulder gently and added, “I’ll go see the lord right away and explain the situation. I’m sure he won’t blame us.”

“Alright, brother. I’ll go right now.”

The young woman left cheerfully. She had always believed her brother could solve any problem, but she didn’t notice the deep shadow of worry in Narsen’s eyes.

Victor looked at the deeply respectful mercenary chief, Narsen, and offered a calm and gracious noble’s smile.

Starting yesterday, Victor had begun preparing to recruit people. He hadn’t sought help from Earl York; that fat pig would have only laughed at him loudly and made him a public spectacle. Instead, he went directly to the castle quartermaster.

After discreetly slipping him a Purple Gold Coin, the initially cold quartermaster instantly became as warm as fire. Not only did he sell Victor a batch of “retired” weapons and armor, but he also thoughtfully had someone engrave the Wimbledon family crest on these “cast-offs”.

When Victor mentioned he needed to recruit some people, the enthusiastic quartermaster even had a trusted subordinate take him to Old Jack’s Tavern.

After explaining his purpose to Hal, the tavern owner eagerly recommended several mercenary companies to Victor. However, in a place teeming with all sorts of characters, Victor had cautiously remained in his Overlimit state. His perception, already far beyond that of an ordinary person, became even sharper, and he overheard the entire conversation between Narsen and Gru downstairs.

Victor was immediately interested. Mercenaries were armed freemen who straddled the line between light and shadow, a mixed bag of the good and the bad. A company that actually adhered to a code of honor was a rare find indeed. He learned from Hal that the War Bear Mercenary Company had once been quite famous in mercenary circles. They had even been hired by the Kingdom of Dodor and had fought several hard battles against the formidable Sassans.

But the War Bear Mercenary Company had one tradition that set them apart from the others: the War Bears never dismissed their wounded and disabled members, but instead supported them for life.

This rule made the War Bears’ cohesion far greater than any other mercenary company, which was also a reason for their greater strength. But as time went on, the number of disabled members grew, and the company’s burden became heavier and heavier. Fortunately, the Kingdom of Dodor, north of Gambis, was in constant conflict with the Sassans. The War Bear Mercenary Company could earn handsome bounties fighting for the lords of Dodor, which allowed the company to survive.

In recent years, however, the Sassans had eased their attacks on Dodor, and the mercenary company’s income fell drastically. The disabled members became a huge liability for the War Bear Mercenary Company.

By the time Narsen took over as Chief of the War Bears, the mercenary company’s expenses had long exceeded its income, and they couldn’t even pay out commissions.

The young members trained by the company were poached one after another by rivals. The War Bears’ fortunes declined day by day. Narsen had hoped to lead his men to pledge allegiance to a noble lord, but unfortunately, the company’s tradition led every lord to turn them away.

For Victor, a mercenary company that upheld a code of honor was a better fit for his guard than a powerful one.

In a room on the second floor of Old Jack’s Tavern, Victor met with Chief Narsen. He hid nothing, frankly explaining his own situation to Narsen and expressing his willingness to take in the disabled members of the War Bears.

Narsen agreed without a moment’s hesitation, consenting to become Victor’s vassal. In truth, he had no other choice.

Afterward, Victor gave Narsen funds and equipment, tasking the War Bear mercenaries with purchasing supplies and recruiting settlers.

Now, the supplies had been bought, but unexpectedly, the refugees—who should have been the easiest to recruit—were few and far between.

“My lord, that is the situation. I estimate that by the time we depart tomorrow, we will have recruited 150 people at most,” Narsen said, looking at Victor uneasily.

Without enough settlers, their development plans would be completely stalled.

Victor stood up, walked to the window, and gazed out at the sparse crowd in the square. With his back to the mercenary chief, he asked, “Narsen, what do you believe is the reason we can’t recruit settlers?”

“My lord, ever since the kingdom’s three eastern provinces were ceded, large numbers of landless farmers have gathered in the Centaur Hills, trying to find a way to survive. Logically, we should have been able to recruit enough people easily. But we can’t seem to get anyone. I suspect…” Narsen answered hesitantly.

“What do you suspect?” Victor turned around and asked calmly.

“My lord, I suspect someone has been deliberately spreading the story of your last encounter with the Bloodfox Bandit Group among the refugees. The farmers probably think we can’t protect them and would rather starve than risk pioneering a new territory with us,” Narsen said.

“Just as I thought.” Victor nodded and said, “Narsen, continue the recruitment. Also, the disabled members will not be coming with us to the territory.”

“My lord, this…” Hearing that he was to leave the disabled members behind, Narsen’s eyes filled with panic.

Victor smiled. “I will give you another two thousand Gold Sols. Take this money and buy an inn and a general store in town to accommodate the disabled members. I need them to help me recruit settlers from town while also keeping an eye on the situation in Black Fortress Town. But remember, they must keep their identities hidden… If anyone finds out they are my people, they could be in danger.”

“Thank you, my lord! Please rest assured, my old comrades may be disabled, but every one of them is shrewd. A task like this will be no trouble for them at all.” Narsen immediately thumped his chest.

“By the way, have a carriage prepared for me.”

“My lord, where are you going?”

“Rose Manor.”

Chapter 11: Leveraging Power

The afternoon sun shone on the white walls of Rose Manor, making the exquisite and tranquil estate look as though it were plated in gold leaf.

If the magnificent Black Fortress was a colossal beast, then this elegant and beautiful manor was its brain.

Victor straightened his attire and, led by a servant, walked into the manor’s conservatory. The lady of the manor, the Countess Sylvia, was waiting for him there.

The conservatory of Rose Manor was not large, but it was constructed entirely of natural crystal. The bright sunlight streamed directly through the crystal dome, bathing the entire room. A copper pipe wound its way around the base of the crystal walls, and from time to time, steam jetted out from small vents distributed along it, keeping the entire conservatory warm and humid.

The gentle sunlight and warm environment had coaxed flowers that should have long since withered into full bloom. The vibrant life of the flowers and green plants within the crystal room formed a stark contrast with the bleak, withered vegetation outside its walls. This huge disparity gave Victor a feeling of being displaced in time and space.

However, what truly captured Victor’s gaze was the Countess, who was arranging flowers in the conservatory.

The Countess wore a snow-white, waisted long dress. Her waist was slender and her posture was elegant and straight. In her fair, slender hands, she held a freshly cut red rose, yet she hesitated to place the stem into the mostly finished flower basket.

At this moment, Sylvia’s eyes were bright and focused. Her fair, full forehead, her straight, delicate nose, and her beautiful, slightly pursed red lips gave her an air of quiet beauty, yet also of confidence and intelligence. Even though she was merely standing in a corner of the conservatory, she seemed to be its very center.

Victor watched in silence as Sylvia placed the rose in her hand into the basket.

She picked up the flower basket and examined it from all angles, a satisfied smile blooming on her lips. The pure smile was so different from the coquettish, flirtatious, and wanton Countess of his impression that he felt his mind reel for a moment.

“Lord Baron Wimbledon, what do you think of my flower arrangement?” Sylvia handed the basket to a maidservant, but seeing no response from her guest, she turned to find Victor staring at her, lost in thought. She couldn’t help but let out a little laugh.

Hearing the Countess’s slightly smug chuckle, Victor awkwardly averted his gaze and stepped forward to perform a nobleman’s bow. “Victor greets the Countess. May your youth and beauty be everlasting.”

“Do you know the true meaning of ‘everlasting youth and beauty’?”

Victor froze for a second, thinking: Isn’t this just a standard courtesy when a nobleman compliments a lady?

“Please, have a seat.” Sylvia didn’t explain. She gestured for the maidservant to take the flower basket away, then gracefully sat down in a rattan chair, inviting Victor to sit in the one opposite her.

“Lord Baron, what brings you to see me today?” Sylvia asked in her sweet voice.

“My Lady, I have come to bid you farewell. I plan to lead my retainers and subjects to my fief within the next two days to assume my duties,” Victor said respectfully. He was now certain that Lady Sylvia was the true leader of the York family.

“Oh.” Sylvia nonchalantly picked up a cup of honey and pine nut tea from the small round table and took an elegant sip.

Seeing that Sylvia offered no further comment, Victor paused, then continued, “My Lady, as you know, I have just acquired a new territory. According to the kingdom’s regulations for a Pioneer Fief, I request that Black Fortress dispatch Knights to my fief to clear out monsters and bandits.”

As the Governor-General of the Pioneer Fief, Earl York was obligated to periodically dispatch troops to patrol the entire territory and assist the local lords in eliminating monsters and bandits to ensure the security of the whole fief.

“You should be speaking with my husband about this, not me,” Sylvia said, her fair, slender fingers gently tracing the rim of the silver cup, a playful expression on her face.

“My Lady, Lord Governor-General York seems to be still holding a grudge over those fifty Purple Gold Coins, so I can only brazenly ask for your help,” Victor said with a wry smile.

“Yes, ever since our York family left our eastern territories, we have lost a great deal of Gold Sols. Then we invested a huge sum in building Black Fortress Town here in the Centaur Hills, and the last of our money was extorted by you… Hmph!” Sylvia shot Victor a look that was part complaint, part coquetry.

Victor couldn’t help but want to roll his eyes. The cost of this crystal conservatory alone was likely no less than one hundred thousand Gold Sols, a sum more than sufficient to build a baron’s castle. Besides, the young baron’s seventy thousand Gold Sols had likely been stolen by the York family as well.

“My Lady, I am willing to offer a sum to the Lord Governor-General to cover the expenses for dispatching the Knights.” Victor had come to Rose Manor prepared to be fleeced by the Countess.

“Oh? And how much are you prepared to offer?” Sylvia asked, the corners of her lips curling into a smile.

“How much does My Lady think would be appropriate?” Victor countered.

“Ten thousand Gold Sols, and I will have Knight Bruce take four apprentice knights and a troop of cavalry to escort you to your new fief and clear it of monsters and bandits. What do you think?”

“That is perfectly acceptable. But I have one small request, which I hope My Lady will grant,” Victor said with a smile.

Sylvia watched through the crystal wall as the young baron disappeared behind the manor’s outer wall. Only then did she turn to the old steward beside her and ask coldly, “Have you found out who was spreading the rumor among the refugees that Victor was attacked by bandits?”

“My lady, we have. It was the steward of Baron Vilpan’s household who had his men spread it,” the old steward replied respectfully.

“Vilpan? Queen Catherine’s cousin? Heh, it seems they still haven’t given up! They thought that by obstructing Victor’s recruitment of subjects, they could buy enough time for the Senate to overturn our land exchange agreement. A pity that they, like me, never expected that the little vase of a baron would be anything but a simple character.” Sylvia smiled faintly and commanded, “Go and bring Bruce here.”

“Yes, my lady.” The old steward bowed and withdrew.

Remembering Victor’s small request from just before he left, Sylvia smiled and murmured to herself, “Cousin Sophia, I’m starting to like the gift you gave me… I wonder what kind of expression my little man will have on his face when he sees the castle I’ve prepared for him? Hehe, just thinking about it is amusing.”

Chapter 12: The Influence of a Knight

As noon approached, the mist lingering over Black Fortress Town gradually dissipated. In the shantytown on the eastern side, the freemen clambered out of their cramped hovels and began to rack their brains for the day’s food.

In this world, “freemen” were not free people at all. In truth, they were a class of rootless refugees without status, whom the nobility called common rabble, unprotected by any lord. They wandered from place to place, their lives hanging by a thread, often engaging in lowly or dangerous work such as cleaning, hauling goods, performing in circuses, begging, or even becoming thieves, women of the night, mercenaries, or bandits.

Ultimately, this world was simply too dangerous. It was difficult for an ordinary person to survive alone. The subjects of a fief could receive their lord’s protection, while masterless freemen languished at the very bottom of society. Of course, whether a freeman or a subject, one could live quite comfortably if they possessed sufficient strength or an exquisite craft.

Bob was one such freeman. He had once been a subject of a viscount in the eastern provinces. A brutal war had devoured his home, and even his lord had perished in the fighting. Having lost his master, Bob became a freeman and followed a column of refugees to the western Pioneer Fiefs. He hoped to be recruited by a lord, to once again become a subject who could farm in peace. It was the only thing he knew how to do.

Unfortunately, he had been in Black Fortress Town for a year now and still hadn’t been recruited by any lord, for the simple reason that too many people had fled here from the three eastern provinces.

Rubbing his rumbling stomach, Bob decided to find his fellow countrymen and see if he could pick up some work.

The freemen usually made a living by helping the York family build Black Fortress Town. Now that the town’s surrounding walls were complete, jobs were becoming scarcer. Even if Bob wanted to haul stones, no one would hire him.

Not long after leaving his hovel, Bob heard a loud voice shouting with all its might.

“Baron Wimbledon’s fief is recruiting farmers, miners, blacksmiths, and carpenters! Those willing to come can bring their families to the territory and become subjects of the Wimbledon family. All who come will first be given a day’s rations, along with clothing and farming tools. We depart this afternoon! All you lads who want to go, come over here and sign up.” A one-legged old man in black steward’s attire was shouting loudly by the side of the road. Parked beside him was an open-topped carriage piled high with black bread, cheese, bean paste, and even salted fish and cured meat.

Bob swallowed hard. The four heavily armed, fierce-looking guards by the carriage made him hesitate to act rashly, especially the one-eyed man with the brutish face, who looked particularly terrifying.

Although he desperately wanted to become the subject of a nobleman, he had heard that this Baron Wimbledon lacked power. He’d been attacked by bandits not long after arriving in the Pioneer Fief, and the baron himself had been taken captive. The subjects who followed him were either scattered and killed by the bandits or became fodder for monsters in the wilderness. Moreover, it was said that the territory this baron was headed to was not only remote but also far more dangerous.

Bob had no desire to die on the road, so he decided not to answer this lord’s summons.

Suddenly, the sound of galloping horses came from not far away. Bob quickly dodged to the side of the road. If a freeman was struck and killed or injured by a horse, he couldn’t expect anyone to step forward and seek justice for him.

A troop of cavalry charged toward them. The riders were well-equipped, especially the three at the front, who were actually clad in scale armor. Bob’s spirits instantly lifted. He knew that only esteemed apprentice knights could wear scale armor, which meant that this troop of cavalry was backed by at least one knight.

It must be a knight coming to recruit subjects or soldiers. Bob secretly swore to himself that he would seize this opportunity.

The cavalry reined in their horses before the Wimbledon family’s steward. The leading apprentice knight looked over the people by the carriage and spoke with an arrogant air, “You are the steward and guards of the Wimbledon family?”

“Yes, my lords Knights, we are the Wimbledon family’s steward and guards,” the one-legged old man said, bowing and scraping.

The steward’s solicitous attitude and the title “my lords Knights” satisfied the haughty apprentice knight. His tone softened slightly as he said, “We are retainers of Sir Bruce. We have been commanded by Sir Bruce to deliver his banner to you. Sir Bruce says that he will lead a party to escort you to your territory this afternoon and carry out a patrol mission of Baron Wimbledon’s fief.” The apprentice knight produced a banner representing Sir Bruce’s identity as a knight and handed it to the old steward.

After the old steward respectfully accepted the banner, the troop of cavalry wasted no more words, turning their horses and galloping away.

Once the cavalry was far in the distance, the Wimbledon family’s one-legged old steward had someone hang up the banner and began shouting loudly again, continuing to recruit subjects.

He hadn’t even finished his first cry when he heard someone shout, “I’m willing to go! I’m a farmer, and I know some carpentry. Count me in.” It was the freeman, Bob, scrambling out from the side of the road. The other freemen, who had been timidly craning their necks to watch the commotion, seemed to have understood something and surged forward, each shouting loudly.

“I’ll go too! I’ve farmed for noble lords before, and I can also raise horses.”

“Take me, I’m a tanner.”

“And me, and me.”

The sudden tide of people brought a smile so wide to the one-legged old steward’s face that he couldn’t close his mouth. For two straight days, he had been met with nothing but a cold shoulder.

In a guest room on the second floor of Black Fortress.

Narsen was reporting to the lord he had pledged his loyalty to on the progress of recruiting subjects.

“My lord, Gru and the others just sent word. They said they’ve already recruited 355 subjects. There are still many people who want to go with us to the new territory. They want to ask you if we should recruit more?” Narsen said excitedly to Victor.

“No, that’s enough. If we recruit any more, the burden on us will be too great. Of course, people with special talents can be an exception,” Victor said with a faint smile.

Yesterday, the small request he had made of Sylvia was to ask Sir Bruce to send men to deliver a banner to the Wimbledon family’s steward in the shantytown. Sure enough, upon learning that a knight would be traveling with them, the freemen who had been on the fence were instantly galvanized, scrambling to join the barony.

“My lord, how did your talks with the church go? Will any priests be accompanying us?” Narsen looked at Victor with anticipation.

As a mercenary, what Narsen hoped for most on a mission was to have a priest in the party.

Victor, however, shook his head. He had just come from the church of the Lord of Radiance, where he had gone to visit Bishop Pello.

The scene of the wizard’s purification in the square a couple of days ago had left him deeply shaken, and the thought that he himself might be targeted by a wizard left him unable to eat or sleep in peace. Therefore, Victor had decided to consult with Bishop Pello in the hope that the church could dispatch a priest to his fief to spread the faith.

The battle-priests of the Radiant Church could not only use divine arts but were also proficient in martial skills, especially擅长 the use of one-handed maces and flails. Their combat prowess was not inferior to that of a typical apprentice knight. However, the church wielded great influence over the populace, and a priest accompanying them to spread the faith would inevitably place a check on the lord’s authority.

Victor couldn’t be bothered with such things. A priest who could heal, fight, and rally the people was simply too useful for his small, weak barony. Most importantly, having a priest of the Radiant Church by his side would surely make anyone plotting to harm him with sorcery think twice.

After Victor explained his purpose to Bishop Pello and stated that he would prioritize building a church in his fief for the priest to reside in, Bishop Pello praised Victor’s piety. However, he regretfully informed him that the church currently did not have enough priests to dispatch to the Pioneer Fiefs to spread the faith.

Though disappointed, Victor could understand. After all, what priest would be willing to go to such a remote Pioneer Fief to proselytize? It was tantamount to exile.

“Alright, if no priest is willing to come, then so be it. Go and get the recruited subjects organized. Select some able-bodied men from among them to serve as a militia and equip them with leather armor, wooden shields, and long spears. We will rendezvous with Sir Bruce this afternoon and then set out.” Victor patted the War Bear Company’s commander on the shoulder and said, “We’ll be counting on you on this journey!”

“Rest assured, my lord! We will not disappoint you!”

Chapter 13: Departure

When Victor arrived at the temporary camp south of Black Fortress Town, the War Bear Mercenary Company, led by Narsen, was already assembled and ready to depart.

Everything in the camp was arranged in an orderly fashion. The War Bear mercenaries wore chainmail, holding either spears and shields or crossbows with shortswords hanging from their waists. There were also some sturdy men in old leather armor, armed with four-meter-long spears; they were the militia Narsen had selected from among his followers.

Over three hundred subjects were gathered around more than twenty wagons laden with supplies. Each of them wore a sheepskin jacket and a thick, hooded cloak provided by the mercenary company. The journey to the new territory was long, and the weather was freezing. For the subjects who had to travel such a great distance, this winter clothing was crucial.

Victor nodded to himself. The War Bear Mercenary Company was indeed a seasoned and experienced group. Not only did they have the ability to manage the migration of several hundred people, but they also paid attention to the details. With a powerful Knight accompanying them as well, Victor was full of confidence for the long journey ahead.

“My lord, good day.” Seeing Victor ride into the camp, the One-Eyed Dragon, Gru, immediately ran over, bowing and scraping with a fawning smile.

“Mm, where is Narsen?” Victor was secretly amused. He hadn’t expected the ferocious-looking and burly Gru to have such a toadying side.

“The Chief—oh, no… the Captain. Captain Narsen is arranging the vanguard,” Gru said, hastily correcting himself as he suddenly remembered he was no longer a mercenary but a guard.

“Mm, take me to him,” Victor instructed.

In the center of the camp, Narsen was giving instructions to his sister, Lilia, and several capable mercenaries. When he saw Victor approach, he immediately came forward to bow. Lilia and the other mercenaries hurriedly did the same.

“Finish assigning your tasks first,” Victor said, waving his hand to indicate they didn’t need to be so formal.

“Yes.” Narsen turned back and continued speaking to Lilia and the others. “You’ll depart now. Leave a marker every three kilometers. After advancing thirty kilometers each day, start looking for a suitable place to make camp. Also, take the Red-Eyed Crows. If anything happens, you can quickly contact the main party.”

The Red-Eyed Crow was a type of bird commonly used for communication. These birds valued their mates, and they seemed to share a strange connection. No matter where a Red-Eyed Crow was taken, it could always fly back to its partner.

“Don’t worry, big brother,” Lilia replied in a clear, bright voice.

Before leaving, the beautiful young mercenary stole a glance at the handsome young lord, then departed with a blush on her cheeks.

“You’re letting Lilia lead the scouts. Aren’t you worried she might run into danger?” Victor asked Narsen with concern after Lilia and her scouting party had left the camp.

“My lord, Lilia is our best archer, and the old comrades with her are our most experienced scouts. There won’t be any problems,” Narsen answered, full of confidence.

Narsen had deliberately sent Lilia away. He understood his sister’s feelings, but how could a nobleman like Victor possibly take a fancy to Lilia? In truth, Narsen wouldn’t have minded if Lilia threw herself at Victor. Most female mercenaries hoped to become a nobleman’s lover. If they could conceive a noble’s child, their offspring might become a Knight and, with enough luck, even establish a new Knightly family.

But one couldn’t expect a nobleman to fall in love with a common woman. Rather than let Lilia suffer from heartbreak in the future, it was better to put a stop to her feelings now.

“My lord, Knight Bruce has arrived with a troop of cavalry!” Gru shouted, running over.

Stepping out of the camp, Victor saw a troop of cavalry and three carriages parked outside. Leading them was a nobleman who looked to be in his thirties. He wore an exquisite suit of full leather armor, had brown hair, pale blue eyes, and handsome, stern features. The shoulders of his armor were engraved with a crest of two crossed fangs.

With a broad smile, Victor took the initiative to greet the Knight. “Lord Bruce, it’s a pleasure to see you again. I haven’t had the chance to thank you in person since you rescued me from those bandits.”

“Baron Wimbledon, there’s no need for thanks. It is my duty,” Bruce replied with a gentle tone, giving Victor a Knight’s salute.

For this long journey, Victor had specifically sent someone to deliver five thousand Gold Sols to Knight Bruce—a huge sum for any Knight.

As the two were exchanging pleasantries, Victor felt a familiar gaze upon him. He turned to see Nicole, Sylvia’s beautiful guard, watching him from horseback. When she saw him look over, she immediately averted her eyes.

“Nicole, I didn’t expect you to be here,” Victor said, pleasantly surprised. He had thought he would never cross paths with the beautiful apprentice knight again and had felt a little regretful about it.

“Baron Wimbledon, I am under orders from My Lady to escort Master Edwin of the Silver Spire to your domain,” Nicole said to Victor with a stern face. She was still holding a grudge about the dinner at Rose Manor.

Victor paid no mind to the female guard’s petty mood. The words “Silver Spire” and “Master Edwin” were enough to startle him.

The Silver Spire, or the Spire for short, was located in the capital of the Kingdom of Ayr. It was a sacred place for noble scholars, said to hold a massive collection of books containing all the knowledge of the human kingdoms.

In the human world, there were two main organizations that imparted knowledge: the monasteries of the Church, and the Silver Spire.

Monasteries selected candidates from all believers, including commoners. However, they only trained personnel for the Church. Those who came from monasteries could only become clergy or church acolytes. The Silver Spire was the exact opposite; they only recruited students from the children of nobility, cultivating talent for high society.

Generally, only the eldest son of a noble family could inherit the title and estate. The other children often had to find their own way. Noble scions who awakened a Knight’s bloodline would become Knights for a great lord. Those who could not were often sent by their fathers or older brothers to the Silver Spire to study and become Spire Scholars.

Spire Scholars typically became the King’s administrative ministers or a lord’s advisors. The most outstanding among them could even be enfeoffed as court nobles.

Most of the Grand Viziers in the human kingdoms were great scholars from the Spire, so the Silver Spire held enormous influence over high society.

The tuition for the Silver Spire was exorbitant. The children of impoverished noble families who could not awaken a Knight’s bloodline and had no money for the Spire could usually only join other noble families or the families of common vassals, becoming tools to improve the bloodline. The young Baron Wimbledon had been in just such a situation.

Victor had never heard of Master Edwin, but anyone among the Spire Scholars who could be called “Master” had to be a person of profound learning, holding a transcendent status within the Spire.

Now, a Master from the Silver Spire was requesting to travel with him, a matter that Victor naturally took very seriously.

Just as Victor was about to ask Nicole for an introduction to Master Edwin, a spirited old man in a white robe emerged from the carriage nearby.

The old man laughed heartily. “You must be Victor of House Wimbledon, correct? Seeing you, I now understand why little Nicole asked Sylvia to let her escort an old man like me to your domain.”

Nicole’s porcelain-like face instantly turned as red as a ripe apple. She leaped nimbly from her warhorse and dove headfirst into a carriage behind her. With an awkward expression, Victor stepped forward and bowed. “Wimbledon greets Master Edwin.”

“Alright, Victor. I’m going to be a guest in your domain. You don’t mind, do you?” Edwin said to Victor with a smile.

“It is my honor to travel with you, Master,” Victor said politely. “Master, if there is anything else you need prepared, please let me know. We can delay our departure.”

“Everything has been prepared. We can set off now. I can’t wait to see the pristine scenery of the Centaur Hills,” Edwin said with a smile, stroking his graying beard.

Victor glanced at Knight Bruce. Seeing Bruce nod, Victor ordered Narsen, who was beside him, “Let’s depart!”

Narsen turned and walked back into the camp. A moment later, a long horn blast echoed, and then, everyone in the camp began to move.

Chapter 14: An Exchange

In a burrow by the roadside, a plump ground squirrel was awakened by the vibrations from the ground above. It twitched its ears and poked its head out of its hole. These clever little creatures were cunning opportunists. Every time they felt such vibrations, they knew a carriage would pass by, and the grain spilled from it would always provide them with a hearty meal.

This plump ground squirrel’s luck, however, was not very good. It had just peered out of its hole when, before it could even tell if the convoy was carrying oats or dried fruit, it was snatched up by a gaping maw full of sharp teeth and dragged out.

An animal that looked like a cross between a dog and a badger, pursued by several of its own kind, swallowed its prize in a few quick bites, drawing pathetic whimpers from its companions. Just then, a low whistle sounded from the convoy, and the animals that were still chasing and tussling immediately scattered into the grass by the roadside.

“The Tiku hounds of the north are excellent hunters and excellent sentinels. They can smell blood from five kilometers away and hear an owl flap its wings from half a kilometer away. What’s more remarkable is their intelligence; they can use different barks to pass information to their kin. However, the art of raising and training Tiku hounds is a skill possessed only by the Wharton herdsmen.”

Through the carriage window, Master Edwin saw an old man on horseback holding a copper whistle, occasionally blowing short or long notes that harmonized with the whimpering of the Tiku hounds. The old scholar turned to Victor with great interest. “Baron, these guards you’ve recruited are quite something. Not only is their conduct disciplined, but you even have a Tiku hound trainer. It seems they’ve had their fair share of dealings with the Sassans of the north.”

“Indeed. They fought several battles against the northern Sassans. That Tiku hound trainer, Old Ham, is a herdsman Narsen rescued from the Sassans.” Victor leaned back against the soft cushions in the carriage and smiled, his eyes fixed on the brazier in the center of the cabin. The beautiful Miss Nicole was gently poking the charcoal with a pair of tongs, coaxing a faint flame from the glowing embers.

When they set out, Victor had strongly invited Master Edwin, Sir Bruce, and Miss Nicole to ride in his personal carriage.

This carriage was pulled by a Giant Rhinoceros Beast. These massive herbivores were immensely strong. They weren’t fast, but they made up for it with a steady gait and astonishing endurance. A carriage pulled by a Giant Rhinoceros Beast was indeed much smoother and more comfortable. Master Edwin and Sir Bruce were happy to accept, and after a moment’s hesitation, Miss Nicole also accepted the invitation to share the carriage.

“Master Edwin, as a second son with no right of inheritance, I have always held the Silver Spire in high esteem. Unfortunately, I was never able to study there. I’m fortunate that you are traveling with me this time, and I hope I might ask for your guidance on a few matters,” Victor said politely to Edwin, choosing his words with care.

On one hand, Victor was perplexed as to why Master Edwin was going to his domain. On the other, he was glad for the opportunity to learn more about this other world from a scholar of the Spire. After all, people who possessed knowledge were exceedingly rare in this world, let alone a master scholar. Victor secretly resolved to seize this chance and win Master Edwin over.

“Victor, you must be very curious as to why I’m going to your domain, aren’t you?” Edwin said with a knowing smile, having seen through Victor’s thoughts.

“Master, although I am a lord, the power at my disposal is meager. I am both expectant and apprehensive about your visit. I don’t know what it is about that domain that attracts you. Perhaps it’s an opportunity, or perhaps it’s trouble,” Victor said to Edwin with a wry smile.

“Rest assured, it’s no trouble, but there are no surprises either. I simply need to pass through your domain to conduct some research in the Great Marsh for a while and collect some samples,” Edwin said, quite satisfied with Victor’s candor. He stated his purpose frankly.

“The Great Marsh? I’ve heard there are some beastmen active in there. Isn’t that too dangerous?” Victor’s heart skipped a beat. He had always been worried about the Great Marsh, which bordered his domain.

“Just some frail and timid Lizardmen. Not a big problem.” Edwin shook his head. “As for whether there are other species inside, I’ll only be able to confirm that after my investigation.”

“I hope there aren’t any powerful monsters,” Victor said, worried.

“Victor, strictly speaking, the Centaur Hills are not a savage land teeming with monsters,” Edwin explained with a smile.

“Most people don’t know the history of the Centaur Hills. In truth, this land was originally the territory of the Forest Centaurs. These white centaurs are powerful and elegant, unlike their savage and foolish brethren. The Forest Centaurs don’t eat meat and are not bloodthirsty. They have their own civilization and love peace, but they are reclusive toward humans. Some believe that Forest Centaurs and common centaurs are two completely different species, and that they may be a vassal race of the Elves. I tend to agree with this view. And since the Centaur Hills was a domain managed by the Forest Centaurs for several thousand years, it’s impossible for there to be any powerful monsters.”

“Are you saying the Kingdom of Gambia seized the Forest Centaurs’ territory?” Victor found this somewhat incredible. In the young baron’s memory, centaurs were a very powerful race.

“We certainly don’t have that kind of strength… The Forest Centaurs migrated on their own,” Sir Bruce interjected.

Edwin shrugged. “Yes. A little over a decade ago, the Kingdom of Gambia discovered that the Forest Centaurs were abandoning the hills they had inhabited for generations and beginning to migrate, group by group, toward the Endless Forest. This land was gradually occupied by Goblins, Kobolds, and Gnolls. After a few probing expeditions, Gambis decided to develop this new territory. Marquess Bastern, the Grand Vizier of Aerie Fortress, invited our Spire to lead the research on the civilization of the Forest Centaur tribes. In return, the Silver Spire would share its findings with the Gambis Royal Family.”

“Then what exactly made the Forest Centaurs abandon their homeland?” Victor asked the question that worried him most.

Edwin took a sip of pine nut tea to wet his throat and said, “There’s no definite conclusion yet. Judging from the traces left behind in the Forest Centaur settlements, their departure was well-prepared and meticulously planned. This all indicates that it wasn’t some disaster that forced them from their home. We generally speculate that the Elves were summoning them, which is why the Forest Centaurs migrated toward the Endless Forest.”

“Master Edwin, could you tell us about the Great Marsh? Rumor has it there’s a powerful Hydra Lizard in there,” Nicole asked, her eyes blinking with curiosity.

Victor pricked up his ears. Nicole had asked exactly what he wanted to know. His domain bordered the Great Marsh, and his greatest fear was encountering a powerful, extraordinary monster. Sir Bruce also sat up straighter, his expression attentive. Besides helping Victor clear his domain, Bruce and his men were also tasked with protecting Master Edwin as he entered the Great Marsh to collect samples.

“I don’t know much about the Great Marsh either, which is precisely what attracts me to it. I don’t believe it will be too dangerous… The powerful monsters in the marsh are rather lazy. They all have fixed territories. As long as we don’t provoke them, marsh monsters generally won’t attack humans. Even the legendary Hydra Lizard, said to rival a dragon, is no exception… The intelligent species living in the marsh might attack humans, but they are generally very weak, and we are perfectly capable of handling them.” Seeing Sir Bruce’s concern, Edwin explained patiently, “Besides, I don’t plan to go deep into the marsh this time. I only need to collect some plant and animal samples from the outer fringes before returning.”

Sir Bruce nodded, his body relaxing. Faced with a legendary Hydra Lizard that could rival a dragon, even the most formidable Gold Knight would be hard-pressed to come out on top, and Bruce was merely a Bronze-rank Knight. After hearing Edwin’s description of the marsh monsters’ habits, the pressure on both Bruce and Victor eased considerably.

The carriage slowly decelerated and came to a stop. Narsen came to the door, knocked, and called out, “My lord, we’ve arrived at the campsite.”

Chapter 15: Making Camp

When Victor and his party stepped out of the carriage, a simple but orderly camp had already been set up.

The camp was established in an open area beside the road. The ground had been crudely leveled, and the surrounding bushes had been cut down completely. These freshly cut shrubs were still too damp to be used as fuel, so the men sharpened them and stuck them into the ground at an angle, forming a simple defensive fence around the camp’s perimeter.

When they broke camp the next day, these fences would be dismantled and taken with them, to be used for the next encampment or as fuel.

In this world, no amount of caution was too much when camping in the wild—a lesson humanity had learned through blood and lives lost.

A number of fully-armed mercenaries led several militiamen armed with five-meter-long spears on patrol around the camp’s perimeter. For the militia, who lacked martial skill, close-quarters combat was far too dangerous. The long spear, however, was simple and easy to learn. With good coordination, a few well-trained militiamen could even use their spears to subdue an 800-pound male bear.

Led by Narsen, Victor and his guests arrived at the center of the camp, where a simple shelter had already been erected. This would be where Victor hosted his guests for dinner.

“Master, it’s a bit rudimentary. I hope you don’t mind,” Victor said to Edwin with a smile.

“Haha, Victor, we Spire Scholars are all experts at camping. This camp is in much better condition than places I’ve stayed in before.” Edwin paid it no mind. In truth, although the Spire Scholars were often children of nobles, their research frequently required them to be active in the wilderness. They were certainly not delicate hothouse flowers.

Just then, a clear voice sounded from the side.

“My lord, you’ve arrived.”

Victor looked up to see the youthful and beautiful Lilia looking at him with joy and a hint of expectation. It seemed she was the one who had led the others in setting up the shelter.

Victor gave Lilia a faint smile and said, “Thank you for your hard work, Lilia. Did you choose this campsite? Are there any problems?”

“My lord, I was waiting to report to you,” Lilia said after bowing to the scholar, the knight, and Nicole. “We carefully surveyed the surroundings and found no traces of Goblin or Gnoll tribes nearby. We did, however, discover the tracks of some large beasts, so we chose this open terrain to set up camp and cleared the nearby bushes. This will prevent wild animals from using the terrain to launch a sneak attack on us.”

“Well done, Lilia.” Possessing the soul of a modern man, Victor was naturally not one to be stingy with praise for his subordinate’s hard work. What he failed to realize, however, was the effect his Moon Elf blood had on women.

As expected, the female mercenary’s bright eyes curved into two crescent moons, and a blush crept up her cheeks, making her look utterly charming.

“Hmph!” A low, dissatisfied grunt came from behind Victor. It was the apprentice knight, Nicole, expressing her displeasure with him. In Nicole’s eyes, a noble lord should be reserved, arrogant, and aloof when speaking to his subjects. For Victor to praise Lilia so pleasantly was, in her mind, a clear sign that he had ulterior motives toward the young mercenary.

Seeing Edwin’s teasing gaze, Victor sighed inwardly. Nicole, the beautiful apprentice knight, was especially prone to jealousy. This was likely due to her lowly birth, which had fostered an insecure and sensitive personality.

“My lord, Iron Hammer and I just hunted a short-tailed deer and a few grouse nearby. We brought them over for you to have a fresh taste.”

Just then, the sycophant Gru, leading a few guards, came over carrying a short-tailed deer weighing at least 300 pounds and several plump grouse for Victor.

“A fine short-tailed deer. I can show off my skill in roasting venison. But what’s truly rare are these grouse. Grouse is delicious on its own, but grouse from the Season of Water is exceptionally tasty. It’s just right for a pot of stew. It would be even better with some dried mushrooms.” Edwin’s attention was immediately captured by the fresh game thrown on the ground.

With this interruption, Victor let out a long breath. Even the sight of Gru’s ugly, fawning face seemed much more pleasant now.

However, when he heard Edwin offer to cook the game himself, an idea sparked in Victor’s mind.

“Master, are you interested in trying a new cooking method?” Victor asked Edwin with a grin.

“Oh? You have a new method, Victor? Tell me about it, quickly.” As a Spire Scholar, Edwin naturally had a keen sense of curiosity, but it was more likely his foodie instincts that had piqued his interest.

“No rush. Let me make the arrangements first.” Ever since arriving in this world, the food had been either roasted or stewed, if not eaten raw. Victor had long grown tired of it.

Victor had been wondering how to curry favor with the old scholar to learn more from him. Seeing Master Edwin’s true foodie nature, Victor decided to show off a little.

Victor gave Gru a few instructions. Gru nodded repeatedly and left with the short-tailed deer.

Next, Victor told Lilia to take the grouse to be dressed and had Narsen dig a fire pit in the ground.

A short while later, Lilia returned with a puzzled expression, carrying the prepared grouse. The birds had been gutted, with a hole opened in their abdomens, but their feathers had not been plucked.

“Victor, this… um… what I mean is… you can’t eat the feathers!” Edwin couldn’t help but remind him when he saw the feathered grouse.

“Master, a new method is bound to be different. All you need to do now is wait patiently. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

Victor decided to string the old man along, speaking with an air of mystery.

Soon, Gru returned with sliced deer steaks and a bag full of something.

Victor opened the bag to reveal the clay inside. He pinched some between his fingers and nodded in satisfaction. Then, he coated the grouse with the clay and tossed them into the freshly dug pit.

“Victor,” Master Edwin said, looking at Victor’s actions with a pained expression, “I know the Season of Water is the season of life, but you can’t grow grouse like that.”

“Master, even though I never had the chance to study at the Spire, I do know that grouse don’t grow from the ground,” Victor replied with a laugh as he buried the grouse under a pile of stones amidst the curious gazes of the others. He then signaled for Narsen to light a bonfire on top of the stones.

The roaring bonfire drove away the damp chill in the air, creating a warm and comfortable atmosphere. Victor, however, placed a strange iron table over the flames. Beside the iron table was a brush made of long-tailed rabbit fur and a bottle full of oil.

“Nicole, come help me turn these deer steaks on this iron plate so they don’t burn,” Victor said to Nicole as he greased the surface of the iron table.

“Alright.” Being able to help the man she adored put Nicole in a cheerful mood, even though she had already given up all hope for the grouse.

With Nicole’s nimble turning, the marinated deer steaks sizzled on the iron plate, gradually releasing an enticing, mouth-watering aroma.

“It’s ready! Everyone, please come and try these iron-plate deer steaks!” Victor poked the fragrant steaks with a knife, judging them to be about medium-well, and addressed the eagerly waiting crowd.

“This is the best deer steak I’ve ever eaten! This flavor… it’s just wonderful! Victor, you’ve successfully made me forget about the grouse,” the old scholar said, not forgetting to tease Victor even as he feasted.

“It is delicious! And I feel that steaks prepared this way are easier to digest than roasted venison,” Knight Bruce added, full of praise.

Nicole didn’t say anything, but the smile in her eyes was impossible to hide. The deer steaks she had helped Victor cook were a hit with everyone, filling her with a sense of pride, as if she were the lady of the house.

At that thought, a blush crept onto Nicole’s cheeks, thankfully not too obvious in the firelight.

“Master, remember to save some room for today’s main course,” Victor said to Master Edwin with a smile.

The bonfire was moved aside. To everyone’s astonishment, Victor retrieved the main course buried beneath the stones—several mud balls that had been baked hard.

When Victor broke open one of the mud balls, an aroma even richer than the iron-plate deer steaks wafted out. Everyone could see the snow-white grouse meat inside, without a single feather on it.

Edwin took a grouse that Victor handed him, took a gentle bite, and the tender, juicy meat melted in his mouth into a flavor he had never tasted before.

“So that’s how it works! When you break off the baked clay, the feathers come off with it, and all the flavor is locked inside the meat. A truly ingenious idea. Victor, what’s this dish called?” Edwin asked, only after devouring an entire grouse in one go.

“This… it’s a method I heard about from an old mercenary. Let’s call it Mercenary Chicken. What do you think?”

“The name is awful, but the taste is incredible!”

Chapter 16: Ferocity

As night fell, a cold mist began to rise over the wilderness camp.

The air in the Season of Water was damp, and there was little dry firewood in the camp. To ward off the cold, people huddled together by the few campfires, wrapped in thick cloaks to keep warm and rest.

Unseen by anyone, a pair of fierce eyes watched the camp in silence. They belonged to a Nightblade Panther.

This ferocious predator possessed long, razor-sharp claws, a body as black as night, and moved with swift silence. It was a child of the night, a nightmare in the mist.

Nightblade Panthers were ferocious, cunning, and vengeful. To be targeted by one meant a fight to the death. For this reason, adventurers called them the Black Death. And now, one had its sights set on this camp.

The beast had been observing the camp for a while. Its instincts told it that some of the prey within were extremely dangerous, capable of easily killing it in a direct confrontation. But it had no intention of giving up, for a surprise attack in the darkness was its forte.

The camp was surrounded by fully armed guards, but this didn’t deter the fierce and bloodthirsty beast. It knew that fear would sow chaos among the weaker prey, and chaos would create an opportunity to hunt. With a single surprise attack, it could drag a panicked, fleeing weakling into the darkness for a satisfying meal.

“Narsen, there’s no one around the four campfires on the perimeter. Why not let some of the subjects warm themselves there?” Seeing his subjects crowded around the few campfires, with those on the outside shivering from the cold, Victor couldn’t help but frown.

“My lord, the four fires on the perimeter are for defending against wild beasts. Our scouts found the tracks of a Nightblade Panther nearby. These beasts grow bold at night and often attack travelers, especially now with the thick fog. Without the fires, it would be difficult for our guards to defend against such a ferocious animal.” Narsen was in full armor, two heavy battle-axes slung across his back, as he scanned the area outside the camp vigilantly.

“You think a Nightblade Panther would attack a camp with this many people?” Victor was somewhat surprised.

“It will definitely attack. Though the beast isn’t considered exceptionally powerful, it becomes very active at night. If we let our guard down for even a moment, it will drag off some unlucky soul for a midnight snack.” As a professional mercenary, Narsen knew this ferocious beast inside and out.

“Should I speak with Knight Bruce and ask him to assign a couple of apprentice knights to help you defend against it?” Victor was a little worried they didn’t have enough guards.

“Don’t worry, my lord. My old comrades are all seasoned professionals. As long as that beast shows itself tonight, we’ll take it down,” Narsen said with complete confidence.

“You and the good Master scholar can stay in the carriage. Knight Bruce’s cavalry will protect it.” After a moment’s thought, Narsen decided it was best for his lord to stay clear of the danger.

Victor nodded, climbed into the carriage, and found Master Edwin.

“Master, how much do you know about Nightblade Panthers?” Victor decided to use this opportunity to converse with the scholar.

“What, has the camp been targeted by one of those troublesome beasts?” The scholar had barely finished his question when the mournful howls of Tiku hounds and the terrified neighing of horses erupted from outside the camp.

The two men quickly disembarked. Just as they got down, they saw Knight Bruce approaching with several of his retainers, his longsword in hand.

“Lord Victor, what’s happening?” Bruce asked.

“It might be a Nightblade Panther attacking the camp.” Victor wasn’t certain. He headed toward the commotion.

The group reached the edge of the camp and saw several guards with one-handed spears and round shields, standing back-to-back as they faced the pitch-black wilderness beyond.

Though they couldn’t see anything, they could hear the sound of a beast gnawing on flesh and bone. It seemed a vigilant Tiku hound had discovered the beast as it neared the camp, and the panther had caught the poor dog. Now, the creature was devouring its prey in the darkness.

“Nightblade Panthers are beasts that excel at stealth and surprise attacks,” Edwin explained, his brow furrowed now that he was sure of the attacker. “They always find a weakness in their prey and strike under the cover of night. Once they claim a victim from a group, they will continue to hunt that group until you either kill it or leave its territory.” Clearly, a beast so adept at using the night and fog to hide itself was a vexing problem.

“Knight Bruce, it seems I must ask you to deal with this beast,” Victor requested.

“I would be glad to,” Knight Bruce replied, giving Victor a knightly salute.

Just then, one of the guards on the perimeter, seemingly overcome with fear, dropped his spear and turned to run back into the camp.

The sight of his exposed back triggered the Nightblade Panther’s predatory instincts and bloodlust. With a roil of the fog, a massive beast shot out of the darkness, pouncing on the deserter with a speed that was impossible to react to.

The huge, dark shadow was just about to fall upon its target. Knight Bruce was too far away to intervene in time.

Just as everyone thought the militiaman was doomed, he suddenly dropped and rolled, vanishing from the beast’s sight. The Nightblade Panther, caught off guard by the sudden turn of events, hesitated for a second.

In that instant, a furious roar erupted from a spot right next to the beast. Narsen, holding his battle-ax and a round shield, charged the stunned creature. With a heavy shield bash, he slammed the Nightblade Panther squarely in the head. The powerful blow sent the beast flipping through the air. But before it could even hit the ground, Narsen’s battle-ax had already swept across its soft underbelly, smashing its body onto the hard earth.

In a flash, it was all over.

Victor and Edwin walked over to the twitching corpse of the beast and saw Narsen pull the “fleeing” guard out of a pit in the ground.

“An excellent strategy,” the scholar praised. “Have someone feign panic to bait the Nightblade Panther’s attack, then have them jump into a pre-dug pit, and finally, have a hidden guard finish the beast.”

“For Captain Narsen to slay such a ferocious beast so easily… If I’m not mistaken, Narsen must be a Savage warrior,” Knight Bruce said softly.

“Savage?” Victor’s gaze shifted from the savage, ferocious corpse on the ground to Narsen, studying him for a few moments.

“The Savage state is a special mutation found in the world’s most ferocious creatures. Savage animals are stronger and more agile than normal ones. Their bones become as hard as metal, and their muscles and hide become exceptionally dense and tough, capable of resisting some mundane attacks. Savage animals also have tenacious life force and exceptionally powerful regenerative abilities; ordinary wounds heal very quickly. However, the probability of an animal becoming Savage is very low, and for a normal human, it’s even lower. It is said that the barbarians of the Terrel Mountains in the north universally enter the Savage state upon reaching adulthood. Fortunately, their fertility is low, otherwise our human world would face their relentless attacks.” The scholar also glanced at Narsen with great interest.

“Oh? Then what causes the Savage state in humans?” Victor asked, his interest piqued.

“There’s no conclusion. For the past hundred years, the Spire has investigated hundreds of cases of Savage humans, but unfortunately, they haven’t found any valuable clues or patterns. The Savage state seems to occur randomly. It’s been found not only in mercenaries who live on the edge of life and death, but also in tailors, Bards, and even nuns. Moreover, the degree of the Savage state varies. Some with a high degree of savagery can rival Knights in combat, while others are only slightly stronger than elite soldiers,” Edwin said with a shrug.

“Indeed, the Savage state has its strong and weak variations. Captain Narsen’s degree of savagery is already very powerful, entirely comparable to a Bronze Knight who has just entered the knightly ranks.” Although Knight Bruce was reserved and proud, he respected a powerful warrior.

A glint appeared in Victor’s eyes. Though he was a noble, he had not awakened a knight’s bloodline. But the Savage state seemed to have opened a new door for him.

Chapter 17: The Power of a Knight

The clear, loud calls of the Dawn Sparrows cut through the silent sky. The large, black-feathered, white-bellied birds were always the first to sing at dawn, their calls heralding the start of a new day.

Victor’s party, however, set out before the Dawn Sparrows began to sing. If they had a choice, people would have preferred to wait until morning. But the party’s supply of firewood was simply not enough to last until dawn. To prevent the weak from freezing to death silently in the night, Victor had no choice but to depart early.

The people shook the dew from their cloaks and marched onward through the morning mist, sticking close to the group. Though the journey was arduous, the Nightblade Panther pelt hanging from the carriage gave them the courage and confidence to keep trekking. When Victor’s carriage passed his subjects walking on either side of the road, they all respectfully saluted their lord.

“This is the first time I’ve ever seen these people show me any respect,” Victor said with a hint of self-mockery as he watched the people outside bowing.

“A lord’s prestige is built upon one great deed after another.” As a powerful Knight, Bruce was no stranger to the awe-filled gazes of the common folk.

“These people are ignorant and benighted. They only obey protectors who possess great strength,” Master Edwin said resentfully.

Even a scholar with tremendous influence over the kingdom could not earn the same reverence from the common people as a Knight could.

Victor felt a pang of sympathy for this sentiment.

“Young Victor, I understand your feelings and your longing for power. After all, I’ve had the same thoughts myself. Unfortunately, not all nobles can awaken their knight’s bloodline, even though this power is rooted deep within our veins,” Master Edwin said consolingly, noticing Victor’s yearning expression.

Victor asked, unwilling to accept it, “Does that mean I’ll never awaken the power of a Knight, not ever?”

“Generally, a Knight’s abilities awaken before the age of twenty. If you pass that age, even a noble with the purest bloodline cannot awaken it. However, even if a noble can’t awaken the power of a Knight, their descendants still have a chance. This power is rooted deep within our bloodline, passed down from generation to generation,” Bruce explained.

“Victor, I know you’re not yet twenty, but you’ve already awakened another rare bloodline of the Wimbledon family—the Moon Elf bloodline. That’s why you have black hair, black eyes, handsome features, and slightly pointed ears. This even rarer recessive bloodline will grant you a longer life than ordinary people, and best of all, it makes it easier for you to win the favor of women. However, it also means you will never awaken the knight’s bloodline,” Master Edwin said, teasing Victor while winking at Nicole.

Throughout the journey, the old man had taken pleasure in teasing Victor and the easily flustered Nicole. Sure enough, Nicole, her face blushing scarlet, glared at Master Edwin.

“Sir Bruce, could you tell me about the power of a Knight? I’m very curious,” Victor quickly interjected, changing the subject.

“The power of a Knight is a force rooted deep in our bloodline. Once this power awakens with the bloodline, you can immediately feel it and control its flow within your body. It’s like a special kind of gas that constantly suffuses our bodies, making us stronger, more agile, keeping our minds clearer, and enhancing our healing abilities. We call this power Aura,” Bruce explained.

“So, once you’ve mastered Aura, you’re a Knight?” Victor couldn’t help but ask.

“It’s not that simple. Mastering Aura only means you’ve just begun. We generally call them apprentice knights,” Bruce continued to explain. “Only when your own Aura resonates with the Elemental Nodes and reaches a certain level can you be called a Knight.”

“Let me explain.” Seeing Victor’s utter confusion, Master Edwin couldn’t resist cutting in. “Victor, all things in the world are composed of the four great elements: earth, fire, wind, and water. We humans are no exception. Our bodies have thirty-six elemental nodes that correspond to these four elements, and they form the structure of our bodies. These thirty-six elemental nodes are what Knights call Elemental Nodes. They are divided into Upper, Middle, and Lower Tiers, with twelve nodes in each tier. Those who have mastered Aura can strengthen it through constant circulation and refinement. Then, they can sense their own Elemental Nodes. When an apprentice knight continuously suffuses these nodes with their Aura, the nodes will resonate with the Aura, granting the apprentice knight immense power. This process is called resonation or reverberation by Knights. The stronger the Aura, the more Elemental Nodes will resonate. If an apprentice knight’s Aura can resonate with all twelve nodes of the Lower Tier simultaneously, then that apprentice knight can be called a Knight!”

“I see. So a Knight’s rank is determined by the number of Elemental Nodes they can make resonate?” Victor murmured.

“Yes, that’s right… An apprentice knight is also known as a Black Iron Knight. After resonating with all twelve nodes of the Lower Tier, they become a Bronze Knight. A Knight who can resonate with the twenty-four nodes of the Lower and Middle Tiers is a Silver Knight, also known as a Great Knight. If a Knight’s Aura is powerful enough to resonate with all thirty-six Elemental Nodes simultaneously and can connect with the mystical Elemental Sea, they can be called a Gold Knight, what people often call a Pinnacle Knight,” Bruce said with a sigh of admiration.

A Gold Knight—the pinnacle of knighthood—is the goal that every Knight aspires to and strives for.

“The power gap between each rank of Knight is enormous, almost insurmountable. This is also closely related to the Elemental Nodes. The twelve nodes of the Lower Tier constitute the human body, so a Bronze Knight can fully unleash their potential in battle. Their strength, speed, constitution, and spirit become incredibly powerful and highly unified, creating a terrifying combat force. The twelve nodes of the Middle Tier, however, govern the flow of elements between the person and the outside world. This allows a Silver Knight to form Elemental Manifestations on the surface of their body, or even on their weapons and armor, granting them terrifying destructive power and unbelievable abilities. That’s why Knights of the Silver rank and above are also called Extraordinary Knights.”

When Master Edwin spoke of the immense power of Knights, he too couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe. However, both Master Edwin and Bruce tacitly avoided mentioning Gold Knights.

If a Silver Knight was already so powerful, what view awaited one at the pinnacle of knighthood?

But Victor had no mind to ponder the abilities of a Gold Knight right now. His mind was completely filled with a single key term—Elemental Node.

The X-3 Chip’s control over his body was incredibly powerful; it could self-diagnose his internal condition by monitoring his blood flow. Yet Victor had never discovered any Elemental Nodes in his own body.

Victor had formed a theory about this, and now he needed to confirm it with Master Edwin.

“Master, you just mentioned the Elemental Nodes. Are they physical organs in our body?” Victor asked Master Edwin.

“They are not organs, but they do exist.” Master Edwin looked at everyone in the carriage, hesitated for a moment, and then continued, “Fine. It doesn’t matter if I tell you. We at the Spire have studied the bodies of Knights. I won’t go into the process. The conclusion is that the Elemental Nodes are not inside the body, nor are they outside the body… Contradictory, isn’t it? But that is the truth.”

“How is that possible? Every time I circulate my Aura, I can clearly feel the Elemental Nodes inside my body,” Nicole said in surprise.

“Nicole, how many Elemental Nodes have you resonated with? What does it feel like when they resonate?” A thought struck Victor, and he asked Nicole.

“I’ve already resonated with ten of the Lower Tier nodes. Resonating with an earth-element node multiplies my strength, a wind-element node makes me more agile, a water-element node increases both my stamina and strength, and resonating with a fire-element node clears my mind. Unfortunately, there’s still one fire and one wind node in the Lower Tier that I can’t resonate with,” Nicole said with a smile.

“Every Knight has a different elemental affinity. The opposition between elements also leads to different effects from resonation. Nicole isn’t compatible with the fire element, so she is relatively more sensitive to the water element. I, on the other hand, am very compatible with the earth element but not sensitive to the wind element. This is why every Knight exhibits different attributes after reaching the Silver rank.”

As he spoke, Bruce extended his right hand and made a grasping motion. An earthy-yellow stream of energy gradually appeared in the air around the Knight’s right arm, swirling around his fist. The terrifying power contained within it caused the surrounding air to tremble and distort.

“Elemental Manifestation!? Bruce, you’re already a Silver Knight!?” Master Edwin exclaimed in amazement.

“Unfortunately, I’m still short one wind-element node, so this manifestation can’t be sustained for long, and its effects are much weaker.” Bruce dispersed the yellow energy stream from his hand, his tone a mixture of regret and a hint of pride.

“Alright, Young Victor, no need to be envious. Although there’s no hope of you becoming a Knight, you are a lord. If you manage your domain well in the future, you’ll naturally attract powerful Knights to serve you. But before that, why don’t you come up with some new dishes to treat us to for lunch?” Master Edwin patted the dumbfounded Victor’s shoulder and said with a touch of sourness.

Unable to become a Knight, even a scholarly Master felt indignant.

Chapter 18: On the Road

“Neither Dodor, nor Naville, nor the Radiant Church wishes to see the Randt Empire rise again, even though His Majesty Neowist has already stepped into the legendary realm. Therefore, the Imperial Family could only end the war after annexing the three eastern provinces of the Kingdom of Gambia under the pretext of punishing rebels. In truth, the Randt Imperial Family has been weak for many years and lacked the strength to continue the war.”

Master Edwin truly lived up to his name as a Master scholar of the Silver Spire. Over the next few days of their journey, he displayed his profound knowledge to everyone. His brilliant expositions on natural species, geography, history, and politics gave Victor a feeling of sudden enlightenment about the world.

It made him secretly glad to have this gluttonous yet erudite old man as a companion on the journey.

“The Emperor of the Randt Empire used punishing rebels as an excuse to hang the two Dukes who pledged allegiance to our Kingdom of Gambia and reclaimed their fiefs. What reason did they have to annex our York family’s lands?”

Nicole, who was in the carriage preparing pine nut tea for everyone, couldn’t help but feel indignant upon hearing Master Edwin speak of the war from several years ago that had forced her to leave her home.

Looking at Knight Bruce, who was sitting upright to the side with a solemn expression, Victor felt a strange sense of amusement.

Although Victor was also a nobleman of the Kingdom of Gambia, as a transmigrator, he felt no sense of belonging to it. From an outsider’s perspective, Victor had a more objective understanding of the war and the kingdom’s situation.

The kingdoms of Gambia, Dodor, and Naville were all nominally vassal states of the Randt Empire. But the Randt Empire had long since declined over its thousand-year history, and the Neowist Imperial Family had lost control over the regional lords.

Although the Imperial Family had never enfeoffed any prince-level lords, the noble lords who had long escaped imperial control annexed and merged with one another, gradually forming three powerful factions. In the end, under the mediation of the Radiant Church, the incredibly weak Randt Imperial Family had no choice but to enfeoff these three powerful lords as Kings.

From then on, the once mighty Randt Empire was officially fractured, and the Imperial Family could only eke out a meager existence on its limited lands.

Everyone believed that the three powerful kings would establish a new empire to replace the Randt Empire through a brutal war of annexation.

However, the Sassans came.

This powerful and barbaric northern empire finally crushed the nomads blocking its southern advance and opened its greedy, gaping maw towards the Randt Empire, which existed in name only.

Under the pressure from the Sassans, the brewing War of the Three Kings quickly turned into the Alliance of the Three Kings. The Kingdom of Dodor, the most powerful militarily, would directly face the Sassan offensive. The Kingdom of Naville built many fortresses in the northern mountains that were easy to defend but hard to attack; whenever the Sassans attacked Dodor, Naville’s army would sally forth from their fortresses to attack the Sassan lands. Meanwhile, the Kingdom of Gambia, the most prosperous kingdom in the south, provided long-term, free military aid and logistical support to Dodor and Naville.

A new balance had been formed, and the Randt Imperial Family was also preserved within this new balance.

But no one had expected that three hundred years later, an Emperor who had stepped into the legendary realm would actually appear in the long-declined Randt Imperial Family.

A Gold Knight was already the peak among Knights, so how powerful would a Knight be who broke through that peak and entered the legendary realm? And how could an emperor possessing such immense power tolerate the decline of his own imperial family?

As it happened, twenty-some years ago, two hereditary Earls in the territory controlled by the Randt Empire had pledged allegiance to the Kingdom of Gambia. They were enfeoffed as Dukes by the Gambis Royal Family, and their lands were incorporated into the three eastern provinces.

Neowist brazenly dispatched troops under the pretext of punishing rebels, triggering a war between the Gambis Royal Family and the Imperial Family, which resulted in the Kingdom of Gambia losing the three eastern provinces, including the York Fief.

However, Victor believed that another primary objective for the Imperial Family in launching the war was to slay His Majesty King Ryan of Gambia!

The constant wars with the Sassans had progressively weakened the Kingdom of Dodor. The Kingdom of Naville had barren lands and lacked the foundation to become a major power. Only the prosperous Kingdom of Gambia, located in the south, had gradually become the strongest of the three kingdoms after years of development. Gambia’s development of the vast Centaur Hills in the east made the other two kingdoms even more uneasy.

Neowist must have recognized this situation and launched his attack on Gambia. Sure enough, in the early stages of the war, both Dodor and Naville stood by idly. The Kingdom of Dodor even deployed troops on the border of the Kingdom of Gambia, forcing the Gold Knight, Marquess Golan of Gambia, to lead the main army corps to a standoff. It wasn’t until the duel between King Ryan and His Majesty Neowist, in which the Emperor displayed power surpassing that of a Gold Knight and slayed his opponent, that Dodor and Naville finally intervened.

The result of the war was that the Imperial Family occupied the lands of the three provinces, but the powerful Emperor was injured. The Kingdom of Gambia not only lost part of its territory but also a strong and powerful king, which plunged the increasingly powerful kingdom into chaos.

This outcome satisfied everyone—except Gambia.

Victor even suspected that Neowist had been intentionally injured in the battle; otherwise, Dodor and Naville would not have so easily let the Imperial Family annex the York Fief.

As for Sylvia, the de facto ruler of the York family, she had resolutely abandoned the rich fief the York family had managed for centuries, moving the entire family west and thus avoiding total destruction.

Victor was deeply impressed by this glamorous lady’s wisdom and decisiveness, but he was also secretly wary of her.

Just as the atmosphere in the carriage grew heavy, Narsen rode up on his horse and knocked on the carriage wall.

“My lord, we have entered Baron Eskri’s territory. Our convoy will be able to reach the Eskri family’s castle before dark. Just now, a servant of the Lord Baron came and delivered an invitation. Lord Baron Eskri will host a banquet in his castle for you, Master Edwin, and Lord Knight Bruce, as well as all the apprentice knights.” Narsen passed an exquisite invitation made of gold foil to Victor through the window.

Victor took the invitation, glanced at it briefly, and handed it to the Master scholar sitting opposite him.

“The dishes at an Eskri family banquet are as rough and hearty as their family members—nothing but roasted meat. I still prefer that poached chicken with dipping sauce you invented for lunch today, Victor.” Edwin took the invitation and pouted.

The Eskri family was also one of the kingdom’s old noble families, known for their martial prowess and unity. However, the family never participated in the internal struggles of the Royal Family, so no political faction would try to win them over. In any case, whoever ascended the throne, the Eskri family would pledge their allegiance.

Rumor had it that although the members of the Eskri family were brave warriors, they were not skilled in strategy, which was why they always stayed away from political opportunism. In the noble circles of the Royal Capital, some even joked that the heads of the Eskri family were filled with nothing but muscle. Of course, the Eskri family members must never hear this, or they would make those with wagging tongues understand what muscle truly means.

As for Victor, he was more than willing to deal with the politically neutral Eskri family.

“Master, out of noble etiquette, we should pay a visit to this hospitable lord. It’s also a good opportunity for our convoy to rest properly by his castle and purchase some supplies,” Victor said with a smile.

“Narsen, pass this news down. Tell everyone to push on. We’ll spend the night within the Eskri family’s walls and rest there for a day,” Victor instructed Narsen.

Not long after Narsen left, a cheer erupted from the convoy.

Nearly ten days of roughing it on the road had left every one of the subjects deeply exhausted. Hearing they could have a proper rest, everyone was energized, and their heavy footsteps became much lighter.

When the convoy arrived at the castle, Victor saw Baron Eskri clad in a suit of armor.

The Baron was not particularly tall, but he was incredibly stocky. A full beard connected with his brown hair, making him look like a powerful bear. The heavy full-plate armor he wore seemed as light as leather armor—this Baron was clearly a powerful Knight.

Like Victor, Baron Eskri was also the second son of his family. But as a Knight, he did not seek patronage from other powerful noble families. Instead, following the Eskri family tradition, he remained with his family, diligently serving his older brother for over a decade. He had no complaints, even when his family’s limited territory meant they couldn’t even grant him a manor as a fief.

It wasn’t until this expedition to develop the Centaur Hills that Baron Eskri’s older brother spent a large portion of his savings to purchase a barony and territory for him.

Among the cold and ruthless noble families, the unity of the Eskri family was truly a rare sight.

“Haha, Baron Victor, welcome to my castle as a guest!” Baron Eskri laughed heartily and clapped Victor on the shoulder.

“Lord Eskri, thank you very much for your hospitality.” The clap seemed heavy, but when it landed on his shoulder, there was no pressure at all. This gave Victor a deeper appreciation for the abilities of a Knight.

“Master, it is a great honor to meet you.” The Baron performed a knight’s salute to Master Edwin. The Eskri family held scholars in particularly high esteem.

“Hey, Bruce, old pal! We meet again. We must have a few good drinks today.” Eskri thumped Bruce heavily on the chest. The immense force sent dust flying from Bruce’s leather armor, but Bruce, who didn’t move an inch, just shook his head with a wry smile.

Next, the Baron introduced his family to Victor. Two young men, as stocky as he was, were his sons, both apprentice knights who had awakened their knight’s bloodline.

The banquet was held as scheduled, and just as Master Edwin had said, the tables were laden with all sorts of roasted meats.

Baron Eskri’s two sons each grabbed a roasted leg of lamb and began to gnaw on it voraciously. While gnawing, they flashed eager smiles at Nicole, who sat opposite them, occasionally glaring angrily at each other.

The two brothers were demonstrating the Eskri family’s technique for courting women to Miss Nicole—by seeing who could eat more. However, they clearly failed to notice Miss Nicole’s face gradually turning ashen.

After the banquet ended, Victor proposed buying some supplies from the Baron, but Eskri seemed a bit troubled.

“Victor, I can provide you with plenty of firewood and arrows, but I really don’t have enough grain to meet your request… However, I can give you the hay and arrows for free, but I’d like to ask you to dispatch some men to help me eradicate the Gnoll bandits in the south of my territory.” Eskri finally stated his purpose.

It turned out that a band of Gnoll bandits was entrenched in the southern part of Baron Eskri’s fief. They frequently attacked his subjects, and recently, the bandits had even breached one of his manors. As a powerful Knight, Eskri could naturally crush these ugly beastmen with ease, but he lacked the manpower. Each time, he could only drive the Gnolls away but couldn’t completely eradicate them. After he left, the Gnolls would quickly regroup, which was a major headache for Eskri.

Victor had never seen a Gnoll before and was eager to try after hearing Eskri’s request. He nodded and said, “Of course. I will dispatch my guards to coordinate with you in eradicating these detestable Gnolls. I’ll take part in the operation as well.”

Eskri pondered for a moment. Seeing that Bruce had no objection, he nodded and said, “Alright.”

Chapter 19: First Battle with the Gnolls

Broken-Fang was starting to feel hungry. The gnawing hunger made his red eyes even redder, and his kin tacitly kept a ten-meter distance from him.

Among the Gnolls, who generally stood over 1.8 meters tall and weighed an average of 250 pounds, the 1.6-meter-tall Broken-Fang seemed short and frail. Yet not a single Gnoll dared to show themselves before a hungry Broken-Fang.

For he was a Gnoll in a Savage state.

Compared to his crude and sturdy kin, built like bears, Broken-Fang’s frame was short and slender, but this seemingly weak body housed terrifying strength. However, what truly allowed Broken-Fang to dominate the tribe was his unmatched speed and agility.

Whenever Broken-Fang charged, a current of air would envelop his body, cutting through the air’s resistance, making his speed far exceed that of his kin, and rendering him silent and stealthy. At the same time, the foul stench of a Gnoll seemed to be locked in by this air current; even the one in the tribe with the most sensitive nose could not pick up Broken-Fang’s scent.

So, before Hogger arrived, Broken-Fang had always been the chief of this Gnoll tribe.

Kicking aside a Goblin slave who was on the verge of death from starvation, Broken-Fang walked deeper into the camp, paying no mind as the other Gnolls began to devour the unlucky Goblin.

Unless he was starving, Broken-Fang wouldn’t eat Goblins. Their foul smell could make him sick for days.

Gnolls were carnivores, eating any meat they could find, but they most enjoyed the flesh of intelligent species, especially humans. The terrified wails of humans on the verge of death brought the Gnolls a special kind of pleasure, whetting their appetites.

Gnolls never labored. They enslaved the Goblins and Kobolds they captured. The Kobolds could mine, while the Goblins would forge simple weapons and armor for them. Of course, when food was scarce, the Gnolls would also treat their slaves as food.

Broken-Fang arrived at the center of the camp and saw Hogger.

Hogger was a Gnoll standing a full 2.2 meters tall and weighing over 400 pounds. Beneath his brown-black fur were knotted muscles. He had the head of a hyena, ugly and savage.

Unlike the red eyes of the other members of this tribe, Hogger’s eyes were a ghastly green.

Yes, Hogger was an outsider. The moment this huge Gnoll arrived in the tribe, he had challenged Broken-Fang’s position.

After Hogger tore two of Broken-Fang’s strong kinsmen apart with his bare hands, Broken-Fang wisely exposed his belly to Hogger, for he knew that Hogger was also a Gnoll in a Savage state.

The Gnoll chief had the right to choose his food first. Hogger had already eaten his fill. He stared at Broken-Fang with his terrible gaze for a moment, and after Broken-Fang showed a submissive expression, Hogger was satisfied and moved away from the feeding spot.

Hogger was smarter and more ambitious than his dull-witted kin. When he first arrived, the tribe had only a little over twenty Gnolls. After he seized the position of chief, he led his subordinates around, gathering stray Gnolls and capturing many Goblin and Kobold slaves.

Soon, the Gnolls under Hogger’s command exceeded seventy, with over a hundred slaves. As the tribe expanded, food began to grow scarce. Hogger set his sights on a human village.

After two days of observation, Hogger led his followers to attack a human village late one night. Under Hogger’s command, Broken-Fang easily scaled the wall built by the humans. Once he silently opened the village gates, the raid became simple and deadly.

However, the humans’ retaliation came swiftly.

When Hogger saw an ironclad man among the human party sent to exterminate them, he decisively ordered a scattered retreat.

Hogger was the strongest Gnoll in the tribe. He knew very well that he was no match for the ironclad man, not even with Broken-Fang’s help.

Swarming weak prey and scattering before strong opponents was the Gnolls’ only tactic. After losing more than twenty members, Hogger and the other Gnolls temporarily escaped the humans’ pursuit.

Over the next few days of pursuit, Hogger discovered a problem with the human forces: they were short-handed. Thus, Hogger led his tribe to a valley with three exits to use as a camp. The valley was overgrown with half-man-high grass, which could conceal the Gnolls as long as they ran on all fours. Hogger dispatched some of his underlings to watch the three entrances. If the ironclad man was spotted, he would lead his followers out through the other two exits and scatter. After a day or two, they would return to the valley.

After a few probes, Hogger discovered that the humans were indeed helpless against them. This made him quite smug for a while.

Just as Broken-Fang began to tuck into a plump alpaca, a shrill howl suddenly erupted from the valley’s eastern entrance—the sentry’s warning that the ironclad man had been spotted.

“They’re back again,” Hogger thought with contempt. He was about to gather the tribe to flee through another exit when warning cries came from the northern and western entrances in succession. The sudden turn of events left Hogger and Broken-Fang somewhat stunned.

Looking at his panicked and helpless kin, Hogger knew that as chief, he had to do something. Otherwise, given the nature of Gnolls, the tribe would soon fall apart.

“Scatter those lowly slaves! All tribesmen, follow me! We’re breaking out through the west!” Hogger roared in the Gnoll tongue.

The Goblins and Kobolds scattered in all directions. Amidst a cacophony of howls, the Gnolls quickly closed in on Hogger.

Glancing at the more than thirty savage and powerful followers gathered around him, Hogger let out a long howl and led the wilderness bandits in a charge toward the western exit.

“Damn it, turn back! Head north!” When he saw Baron Ericli in full armor leading dozens of fully armed soldiers charging at them, Hogger wisely turned and fled toward the northern exit.

When he reached the north, he saw Knight Bruce leading a dozen well-equipped soldiers closing in on them.

Without hesitation, the Gnolls turned back once more. Although there were fewer human soldiers on this side, the Gnolls’ beastly intuition told Hogger that this new ironclad man was even more powerful than the one they had been tangling with for days.

Before they could reach the eastern exit of the valley, the fleeing Gnoll bandits ran into more than fifty human soldiers. Although there was no terrifying ironclad man among them, their leader, a human warrior wielding two one-handed heavy axes, radiated an aura that struck terror into the Gnolls’ hearts—the stench of Gnoll death. On those two gleaming battle-axes, the Gnolls could even smell the blood of their own kind.

At that moment, all the Gnolls understood that there was no escape.

Looking at his panicked subordinates, Hogger decided to lead them to break through here. Although most of the Gnolls would die, with his kin as cover, he was confident he could escape.

‘As long as I can escape,’ Hogger thought to himself, ‘with my strength, I can definitely gather another band of followers.’

Just as Hogger was about to give the order, the human soldiers opposite them suddenly fired a dense volley of arrows. The few unlucky ones at the front were instantly struck down. The blood and wails of their comrades sent the other Gnolls scattering in a panic.

Narsen was experienced in dealing with Gnolls. In fact, the monsters he had killed the most were Gnolls, especially after coming to the Centaur Hills, where the War Bear Mercenaries had taken on several missions to exterminate these bloodthirsty bandits.

All members of the War Bear Mercenaries knew that Gnolls were both ferocious and cowardly. When fighting them, one must never show an ounce of fear. A few sharp volleys from a crossbow, and the blood and wails of their kin would make the selfish creatures scatter in an instant. At that point, a Gnoll would have only one thought in its mind: to run faster than its kin. Some of the more cunning Gnolls would even attack their own companions as they fled, using the injured and lagging kin to buy themselves time to escape.

At that point, the mercenaries could kill these filthy beasts one by one.

The guards fired their powerful crossbows repeatedly at the Gnolls trying to scramble up the slope. The bolts mercilessly pierced the Gnolls’ bodies, but their robust physiques meant they were only wounded, not killed. Human soldiers with longspears would then rush forward to finish off the injured Gnolls on the ground. The dying screams of their companions spurred the remaining Gnolls to flee frantically deeper into the valley.

There, they would meet their doom.

Chapter 20

Victor stood on the slope of a hill overlooking the carnage in the valley.

The instinct for survival drove the cunning and vicious Gnolls to unleash astonishing strength. They ran, leaped, charged, and let out furious roars, violently attacking any creature that stood in the way of their escape—including their own kind.

However, it was all in vain.

Humans may not have been as physically strong as Gnolls, but their superior equipment and tight coordination made the well-trained soldiers as terrifying as killing machines.

Crossbowmen fired powerful bolts at isolated Gnolls, while spearmen in groups of three skewered the wounded ones to death. Foot soldiers in chainmail, bearing shields, remained vigilant for any movement in the surrounding grass. When a Gnoll threatened the soldiers who weren’t skilled in close combat, these elite swordsmen would show the creature the meaning of despair.

And when faced with a powerful Knight, even a strong Gnoll was as fragile as a scarecrow.

Victor watched as Kaven, one of Bruce’s apprentice knights, cleaved a Gnoll in two from shoulder to hip with his longsword. The force of the swing flattened the waist-high wild grass in a circle with a one-meter radius around him.

“Forty-nine Gnolls, eleven hyenas, sixty-four Goblins, and twenty-three Kobolds in total. Eleven Gnolls have been killed so far,” Victor said casually. With the aid of the X-3, he had a precise grasp of the battle data within his line of sight.

“Your eyesight is incredible, my lord!” one-eyed Gru chimed in sycophantically, though he had no idea if Victor was correct.

Gru and several burly guards stood by Victor’s side, responsible for their lord’s safety. Master Edwin had remained at the castle at Bruce’s request. Nicole, who had originally been tasked with protecting the Spire’s great scholar, was now also standing next to Victor.

The beautiful female apprentice knight wore a set of silver-white scale armor tailored for a woman. A longsword and round shield hung at her side, and her lovely hair was tied back simply, giving her a heroic and valiant appearance.

“Gru, bring me a heavy crossbow.” Although Victor couldn’t go down and fight the Gnolls himself, he was unwilling to remain a mere spectator.

Gru glanced at Nicole, looking troubled. Nicole quickly tried to dissuade Victor in a soft voice, “Victor, our soldiers are all over the battlefield, and a heavy crossbow is difficult to handle. It would be terrible if you accidentally hurt one of our own, don’t you think?”

“Don’t worry, I would never shoot anywhere near our people. Besides, you can guide me,” Victor said to Nicole with a small smile.

The ethereal temperament and elegant demeanor from his Moon Elf bloodline held an immense attraction for Nicole, making it hard for her to refuse his request.

“Alright, but you must shoot under my guidance.”

A military-grade heavy crossbow was brought over. This powerful weapon could fire a bolt over three hundred meters and could even pierce an armored target at a hundred meters, but its weight made it difficult for most people to shoot accurately.

Gru used a windlass to load a solid steel bolt into the firing groove and handed the heavy crossbow to Victor. Nicole pressed close to Victor’s side, supporting his arm with her hand and guiding the bolt to aim at a Gnoll that had no one else around it.

Overlimit activated. Wind speed, distance, the Gnoll’s movement speed and trajectory—all this data constantly refreshed in Victor’s vision. After getting a signal from Nicole, Victor fired the crossbow.

The sharp bolt pierced straight through the Gnoll’s shoulder, the powerful impact sending it tumbling. Driven by the will to survive, the strong Gnoll ignored the wound and scrambled back to its feet to continue fleeing.

“A beautiful shot!” Gru praised loudly, not missing the opportunity.

Victor, however, shook his head in dissatisfaction. He had been aiming for the Gnoll’s head. It was his first time firing, so he didn’t fully understand the crossbow’s performance, and Nicole’s interference had slightly altered his shooting form.

“Again,” Victor ordered Gru.

The heavy crossbow was reloaded. Before Nicole could take hold of his arm again, Victor pulled the trigger.

The solid steel bolt flew a hundred meters and pierced the Gnoll’s head. It dropped to the ground, killed instantly.

The god-like marksmanship was so incredible that it left everyone dumbfounded. Even Gru forgot to lavish Victor with praise.

If that shot had been a mere coincidence, Victor’s subsequent shots disproved any such notion.

Every powerful bolt he fired took the life of a Gnoll, each one a headshot. Had Nicole and the guards been closer to the battlefield, they would have been even more astonished to find that most of the bolts had pierced the Gnolls’ eyes or ears.

The soldiers fighting below experienced this firsthand.

George was one of Baron Esrick’s elite foot soldiers, tasked with protecting the crossbowmen and spearmen. The tall wild grass caused him considerable trouble, forcing him to constantly watch for movement around his comrades, at the expense of his own safety.

From the thick grass, a strong Gnoll took advantage of the soldier’s inattention and lunged.

Caught off-guard by the Gnoll’s surprise attack, George panicked. In the instant he was tackled, he blocked the Gnoll’s sharp claws with his shield and fiercely stabbed his longsword into his opponent’s side.

Such a wound wasn’t enough to kill a strong Gnoll instantly. The intense pain only drove it into a greater frenzy. It opened its great, bloody maw full of sharp fangs and lunged for the enemy’s face. The foul stench from the Gnoll’s mouth made George smell the scent of death.

The expected pain never came. As his comrades hurriedly pulled him out from under the Gnoll, they were shocked to discover that a long crossbow bolt had pierced the creature’s head through its ear canal. It was already dead.

Everyone around Victor was gaping in disbelief, the beautiful Miss Nicole included. Meanwhile, Broken-Fang, hidden in the grass, felt a chill run through his heart.

As a Gnoll in a Savage state, Broken-Fang was far more intelligent than his kin.

When the battle began, Broken-Fang took advantage of the chaos and dove deep into the tall grass. With a faint breeze swirling around his body, he crept silently through the undergrowth, slinking toward the slope on one side of the valley.

Many Gnolls had the same idea: run up the slope, cross the hills, and escape the human army’s encirclement. But once they left the cover of the wild grass, the human archers would show them with a dense volley of arrows just how foolish that idea was.

Broken-Fang wasn’t worried. Climbing the slope would slow down other Gnolls, but it wouldn’t be a problem for him. His natural affinity for the wind element made him swift and agile, and gave him sharper senses, allowing him to dodge arrows before they could strike.

Even if he couldn’t dodge every arrow, the breeze swirling around him could weaken their force. As long as he protected his vitals, he was confident he could escape this encirclement.

He might sustain some minor injuries in the process, but nothing fatal. He was sure he could escape the encirclement with his superior physique and astonishing speed.

That was Broken-Fang’s original plan. But the appearance of the god-like marksman on the hillside filled him with despair.

Broken-Fang might have been able to withstand shots from ordinary crossbows, but not from a military-grade heavy crossbow. He had watched with his own eyes as a bolt from the hillside pierced the head of some unlucky fool. The force of the bolt sent the three-hundred-pound creature flying a full meter, pinning its skull to the ground.

If the human army only had Victor as a marksman, Broken-Fang wouldn’t be worried. But he was not yet capable of distinguishing and defending against such a terrifying shot amidst a dense volley of arrows.

Broken-Fang decided to take a wide detour to stay out of Victor’s line of sight and escape from a safer location, but the shrinking encirclement thwarted his plan.

So, Broken-Fang decided to take a risk.

Since he couldn’t escape the sharpshooter on the hill no matter which way he went, his only option was to get close to the marksman, find an opportunity to kill or grievously wound him. Otherwise, even if he managed to escape over a different slope, he would be exposing his back to this terrifying foe.

Broken-Fang saw the guards around Victor, including a powerful Ironclad Man—but it was just a human female.

In Broken-Fang’s experience, human females were always weak and helpless. They would always scream in terror and flee in a panic at the sight of a Gnoll, which always stirred a Gnoll’s powerful appetite.

This cognitive bias gave Broken-Fang an extra bit of confidence. In truth, he had no other choice.

Broken-Fang cautiously crept through the grass toward the slope where Victor was, then concealed himself in a patch of grass at the foot of the hill to wait quietly.

He was waiting for an opportunity—an opportunity that Hogger would create for him.

And then, he would fight for his life.

Chapter 21: Son of the Wind

Hogger’s Gnolls had been all but wiped out. He had reached the end of his rope.

Surrounded by human soldiers, the mighty Gnoll chief slowly rose from the tall grass. He curled his lips, baring chillingly sharp fangs. His body, far taller and more robust than that of an ordinary Gnoll, caused a stir among the human soldiers.

Since there was no escape, he would tear his enemies apart with his sharp claws and savor their flesh with his pointed fangs. Bloodthirsty thoughts cast a red film over Hogger’s green eyes.

“A Gnoll in a Savage state? All of you, stand down. Leave this one to me. Its head is worthy of a place in my collection room. Don’t you dare fight me for it, Bruce.” Clad in blue-black armor, Baron Eskri laughed as he strode into the encirclement.

Passing the slowly retreating soldiers, Eskri’s gaze was stern. He struck his shield heavily with his longsword and came to a stop ten meters in front of Hogger.

Hogger sized up the powerful Ironclad Man before him. This was the one who had destroyed his pack, who had driven him into a corner. Despair and hatred set Hogger’s blood ablaze, and a power he had never known before awakened within him. This power seared his mind, leaving him with a single thought: tear this damned human to shreds.

“Bloodlust?” Bruce raised an eyebrow as he saw the savage Gnoll’s eyes glow with a bloody light and its muscular body swell in size.

With a long howl, Hogger charged his enemy at an unprecedented speed. The tough grass before him was shattered by the impact, then swept into the air by the fierce wind of his passage. The Gnoll’s charge carried an unstoppable momentum.

Facing his formidable opponent, not a ripple of emotion showed in Eskri’s eyes. He stood as unshakeable as obsidian.

The moment they clashed, Eskri blocked the Gnoll chief’s air-rending claws with his shield. The immense force shoved the Knight back four meters, his iron boots carving two distinct tracks in the ground.

“Impressive!” Eskri tossed aside his deformed shield, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. The strength of his opponent delighted him.

“Again!” Eskri’s longsword danced in a flourish as he rushed toward the Gnoll.

Challenged by the opponent he had just pushed back, Hogger, now brimming with confidence, roared and charged the Knight again. He was going to rip the man’s head clean off.

Eskri sidestepped Hogger’s claw strike, his longsword fluidly tracing a terrible wound under the Gnoll’s ribs.

Side Slash!

The Knight didn’t pause after landing the heavy blow. Pushing off with his legs, he instantly reversed his direction. His whole body shot forward like a bolt from a heavy crossbow, his longsword thrusting straight for the Gnoll’s chest.

In his bloodlusted state, Hogger ignored the pain. He spun around, preparing to launch an even more ferocious attack, but the Knight’s longsword pierced straight through his heart.

Thrust!

The battle was over. Watching his opponent pull the longsword from his chest, Hogger stood frozen in place as if under a spell. It was a fatal wound.

Blood gushed from Hogger’s mouth and nose. His powerful physique and unyielding will kept him from falling. The Gnoll tensed his muscles, trying to close the wound, and the undiminished fighting spirit in his eyes moved Eskri.

Saluting the Gnoll like a Knight, Eskri charged Hogger.

Knight Bruce would not have granted a Gnoll this respect. He would have simply wiped his longsword clean and left the beast to savor its slow death.

But Eskri was different. If Bruce was a noble among Knights, then Eskri was a Knight among nobles. To cut down an opponent at the peak of their vitality—what an exhilarating satisfaction!

Facing Hogger’s final strike, one that concentrated all his remaining life and will, Eskri unleashed a slash. It was the first sword stroke his father had taught him at the age of four, a stroke he had practiced a thousand times a day without fail. This slash severed the Gnoll’s sharp claws, swept across his opponent’s neck, and sent the head flying in a spray of blood.

Horizontal Slash!

Now! Broken-Fang moved.

Broken-Fang had long since observed that the sharpshooter on the hillside needed a nearby soldier to cock his weapon after every shot. The battle in the valley had just captured everyone’s attention. At this moment, the heavy crossbow was not loaded!

This was the chance Broken-Fang had been waiting for!

He charged toward Victor on the hillside. The slope’s angle and the air offered no resistance; he was as fast as a gust of wind.

By the time Gru and a few guards spotted Broken-Fang, he was less than ten meters from Victor.

Nicole moved as well. The beautiful apprentice knight saw Broken-Fang rushing up at astonishing speed and reacted instantly.

She dropped her heavy shield, raised her sharp longsword, and met the charge.

The brilliant light of her sword flashed like a bolt of white silk, slashing toward the Gnoll, who had just leaped into the air. Nicole intended to cut Broken-Fang in two while he had no leverage.

The female knight’s ferocious strike terrified Broken-Fang. At the moment of life and death, he let out a sharp shriek. The fur on his entire body stood on end, and the gentle breeze swirling around him suddenly accelerated. The instant the sharp edge of the sword touched his body, the airflow deflected the slash just enough for Broken-Fang to use the force to slide a short distance to the left.

The longsword swept across Broken-Fang’s right side, but he had avoided the fate of being cut in half.

The slick feeling transmitted through her sword told Nicole something was wrong. She turned to pursue the wounded Gnoll, only to find that Broken-Fang was already within arm’s reach of Victor, his sharp claws swiping for Victor’s neck.

“No!” Nicole let out a cry of despair. She wanted to throw her longsword but was afraid of hitting Victor, so she could only lunge at Broken-Fang. But it was too late.

Broken-Fang was ecstatic. Although the female knight’s sword had struck him, the wound wasn’t fatal. His target was right before him. With one reach, his sharp claws would tear open the sharpshooter’s throat, and then he would escape to safety.

Broken-Fang could almost smell the blood in his prey’s neck. Just as he thought he had succeeded, the stunned expression on the human sharpshooter’s face transformed, in his eyes, into a smile.

Victor had noticed Broken-Fang hiding at the bottom of the slope long ago, but with his guards and Nicole protecting him, he hadn’t paid the scrawny Gnoll much mind.

However, the Gnoll’s sudden burst of speed had exceeded everyone’s expectations, and the breeze swirling around the beast was something no one had foreseen.

The X-3 Chip helped Victor process all the data on Broken-Fang’s movements, but his ordinary physical abilities were not enough for him to react adequately.

But in the instant Broken-Fang broke through Nicole’s interception and rushed toward him, Victor perceived the breeze surrounding the Gnoll, and the world changed before his eyes.

Everything slowed down. Everything was reflected with perfect clarity in his mind. He saw the despair in Nicole’s eyes. He saw Gru and the other guards frantically and futilely thrusting their spears at the Gnoll. He saw the Gnoll’s excited, cruel red eyes and the sweep of its chilling claws.

Most importantly, he saw the wind.

A joyful wind passed right through him, conveying its fondness. The feeling filled Victor with an innate delight, and he couldn’t help but smile.

In that moment, he truly felt the omnipresent wind element. In that moment, he and the joyful wind element merged into one. He was the Son of the Wind.

Victor turned nimbly, evading the claws swiping for his neck. He smoothly drew the short sword from the leather sheath on Gru’s thigh and thrust it at Broken-Fang’s throat.

Meeting no resistance, the short sword slid easily into the savage Gnoll’s neck, piercing straight through its vertebrae.

The thrust was light, precise, and fatal.

When Narsen arrived with his guards, Victor was holding Nicole, who had thrown herself into his arms, trembling and sobbing. Broken-Fang’s corpse lay not far from them. The Gnoll’s dull eyes still held a deep, profound confusion.

Chapter 22: Bloodline

“Victor, when you assassinated that savage Gnoll, did you really not feel any changes in your body?” Master Edwin pressed, his interest piqued.

The battle to eliminate the Gnolls was a great success. All the Gnoll bandits were killed, with only a few insignificant Goblins and Kobolds escaping in the chaos.

Most importantly, the ferocious Gnoll chief had been slain by Eskri.

The death of the Gnoll chief meant that for a long time to come, no Gnoll packs large enough to threaten human villages would form in this territory.

On the human side, three soldiers were seriously injured and seven sustained minor injuries, but there were no fatalities.

This outcome was a great relief to Baron Eskri. As a new lord, he couldn’t afford to pay out much in death benefits.

While tallying the battle merits, Baron Eskri was shocked to discover that the seemingly frail young baron had actually killed eight Gnolls with a heavy crossbow, each bolt a fatal shot through the head.

Such terrifying marksmanship could likely only be matched by those Knights with an affinity for the wind element.

And when he saw Broken-Fang’s corpse, his shock was tinged with a hint of relief.

He hadn’t expected this Gnoll pack to have two savage chiefs. If this smaller, savage Gnoll had escaped the encirclement, it would have quickly gathered a new band of Gnolls.

I should probably recruit more soldiers, Eskri thought to himself, but the thought of his family’s tight financial situation gave him a headache.

To thank Victor for eliminating a major threat for him, Eskri offered to use his family’s secret method to turn Broken-Fang’s head into a trophy, but Victor bluntly refused.

Back at the castle, upon learning of Victor’s astonishing battle results, Master Edwin showed a keen interest in the incredible marksmanship and extraordinary agility Victor had displayed.

The next morning, Victor once again declined Eskri’s earnest request to make a trophy out of the ugly Gnoll’s head. Under the Baron’s regretful gaze, he led his party and set off on the journey south.

They had just set out when Master Edwin, inside the carriage, began bombarding him with one question after another. Looking at the old scholar’s eager eyes, Victor could only offer a wry smile.

“Master, you’ve already asked that question three times. I’ll say it again: I didn’t feel anything strange at the time. It was purely an instinctive reaction. I wasn’t even thinking during the whole process.”

Victor wasn’t telling the truth. The sudden power he’d acquired both surprised and alarmed him, because he remembered the Purification Ceremony the Radiant Church had held in Black Fortress’s square.

Until he understood the source of this power, he had to be exceptionally cautious.

“It seems the gifts of your Moon Elf bloodline have granted you superhuman sight and keen combat instincts,” Edwin murmured.

“The power of the Moon Elf bloodline? Master, could you explain that in more detail?” Hearing the Master’s words, Victor’s heart stirred. He was now desperate to understand his own condition.

“The Elves live deep within the Endless Forest, and have been distant from the human world for thousands of years. We know nothing of their power systems. What is certain is that the strength of the Elves far exceeds that of humans. According to ancient texts unearthed by the Spire, all Elves are extraordinary archers. An Elven bowman can accurately hit a fast-moving target from four hundred meters away with a warbow! You must understand, not even the heavy crossbows of the Dodor Kingdom have such a range, let alone the ability to hit a moving target. Furthermore, Elves are incredibly agile. It is said that the Wood Elves, the main representatives of their race, live year-round in the canopies of tall trees, where they can run and leap freely among the branches,” Edwin said with a sigh.

“So, you believe I’ve inherited an Elven talent? Will I be able to reach that level in the future?” Victor asked, his eyes gleaming with delighted surprise.

“Hahaha, young Victor, that’s not what I meant. Hitting a moving target from four hundred meters with a warbow is something only a Silver-rank Wind Knight could possibly achieve in the human world. From that perspective, every Elven archer would be equivalent to one of our Silver Knights. But do you really think that’s possible?” Edwin laughed, pouring cold water on his excitement.

“Of course not! If the Elves were truly that powerful, how could there be any room for other races in this world? Therefore, I believe the Elves must have special training methods and power legacies, which, combined with their bloodline talents, allow them to achieve such astonishing results. Relying solely on the talent from your Moon Elf bloodline, without the legacy of Elven power, you could never reach the level of an Elven archer.” Before Victor could reply, Edwin stated his judgment directly.

A thrill shot through Victor’s heart. He knew he could do it!

After killing Broken-Fang, he had clearly felt a tremendous change in his body.

First, his vision had improved dramatically. Previously, his eyesight was already very good—he could make out the eyes of a Gnoll from three hundred meters away—but that was the result of the X-3 Chip constantly correcting the visual image, not true clarity. Now, even without entering the Overlimit state, he could clearly see a wild rabbit hiding in the grass seven hundred meters away.

Moreover, he had also awakened the ability of night vision. The night no longer obscured his sight; Victor was confident he could shoot and kill even a Nightblade Panther hidden in the darkness with a single arrow.

Second, his hearing had also become extremely sharp. He could clearly hear the sound of a gopher digging its burrow two hundred meters away.

Most crucially, he seemed to be able to enter a state of communing with the wind element.

When he entered this state, all his senses were greatly enhanced. According to the X-3 Chip’s calculations, his vision improved by fifty percent from its new baseline, and his hearing by seventy percent.

The final change made Victor absolutely ecstatic. Like Broken-Fang, he could summon a breeze to surround his body, which not only made him astonishingly fast but also allowed him to make incredible changes in direction while moving. In this state, his speed increased by one hundred percent, reaching a staggering twenty-five meters per second, and his body’s agility improved by one hundred fifty percent.

To Victor’s astonishment, he could even attach the breeze to other objects!

This ability not only greatly increased the speed at which he could swing a weapon, but also made his weapon handling extremely nimble. When he threw a dagger wreathed in the breeze, it could fly through the air at high speed. Although the surrounding breeze would dissipate after thirty meters, even so, the distance and speed of his throws had multiplied.

This was already an extraordinary ability. Victor couldn’t help but think of Wizards, which was why he was trying to keep it a secret.

Victor named the first state of communing with the wind element ‘Super Sense’ and the second state of controlling the wind element ‘Seamless.’ When he activated both states along with Overlimit, he would enter a wondrous state, feeling all-knowing and all-powerful. It was in that state that he had easily killed the savage Gnoll. However, after this special state lasted for twenty seconds, Victor would begin to feel dizzy and eventually be forced to exit it.

Victor called this state ‘Apocalypse’!

Victor felt that the X-3 Chip, Super Sense, Seamless, and Apocalypse had even greater potential to be unlocked, but his current circumstances did not allow him to do so.

Once I get to my own territory, I can slowly explore my potential. For now, I should try to get more information about bloodlines and extraordinary powers from the scholar Edwin, Victor thought to himself.

“It’s truly disappointing to have no potential for growth,” Victor sighed to the old scholar, suppressing the flicker of excitement in his heart.

“Victor, you mustn’t be too greedy! Less than thirty percent of noble human bloodlines can naturally awaken a Knight’s Aura! Although you haven’t awakened the abilities of a Knight, you have awakened your Moon Elf bloodline and been gifted with terrifying marksmanship and keen combat instincts. As far as I know, other nobles who have also awakened Elven blood have not awakened talents like yours! Compared to someone like me, you’re already incredibly lucky!” Edwin exclaimed indignantly.

“Perhaps it’s because they haven’t had an experience like mine, facing death head-on,” Victor said lightly. He didn’t notice Nicole’s face pale as she lowered her head.

“Child, I know you yearn for power, but I must remind you: do not forget that you are also a lord! Sometimes, responsibility is also a form of power. Please, be sure to remember that,” the old scholar said with a solemn expression.

Chapter 23: Revenge

A few robust short-tailed deer were drinking leisurely by the river. When they heard a sudden noise behind them, the alert animals swiftly bolted into the distance.

One of the bolder short-tailed deer ran a short way before stopping to look back. It saw a slender human walking toward the spot where they had just been drinking. Shaking its head, the curious deer chased after its companions.

Lilia’s archery was the best among the War Bear Mercenaries, but she wasn’t here to hunt short-tailed deer today.

“Here it is.” Lilia found a wooden stake driven into the riverbank. Following the rope tied to it, she pulled an oval cage out of the water. The heavy weight of the cage made Lilia beam with joy.

It was a cage woven from branches, with a wide body and a narrow mouth. Inside, there was a funnel-like entrance to prevent escape. That’s right, it was a shrimp trap.

“I have no idea how My Lord knows such a strange method for catching shrimp, but it works so well!” Lilia murmured to herself as she lifted the cage brimming with her catch, the upturned corners of her mouth revealing the young woman’s mood.

“Hey! Lilia, what are you muttering to yourself about? Are you thinking about Lord Victor again?”

A teasing voice came from behind her. Lilia flushed and stomped her foot, turning to pout. “Sister Linda! What are you talking about!”

A woman in leather armor with a longsword at her waist was walking toward Lilia, dragging a similar shrimp trap. She was Linda, a female mercenary from the War Bear Mercenary Company.

Linda was twenty-eight this year, but the hard life of a mercenary made her look like she was in her thirties. Her skin was a little rough, but her curvaceous, athletic figure and well-defined features gave her the charm of a mature woman. Compared to her fighting skills, Linda was more adept at tailoring, cooking, and first aid, serving as the logistics personnel for the War Bear Mercenary Company. At times, she was also responsible for gathering intelligence for the company.

Linda was also Narsen’s partner, so Lilia was especially close to her. It was naturally impossible for the young woman’s budding crush to escape her notice.

“Is your shrimp trap full?” Seeing Lilia’s slight embarrassment and annoyance, Linda tactfully changed the subject.

“Mhm, look, it’s full of freshwater prawns that are half a foot long.” The young woman proudly brandished the heavy shrimp trap at Linda.

“Mine’s full, too.” Linda said with a sigh. “Lord Victor is different from any other noble I’ve ever met. This shrimp trap he designed is truly useful, and the cooking methods he taught me are things I’ve never heard of. You know what? If we quit being mercenaries in the future, we could open a tavern or an inn with the cooking skills we’ve learned from My Lord. We’d be guaranteed to make lots and lots of money!”

As she said this, the female mercenary’s eyes sparkled, as if countless Gold Sols were glittering within them.

“What do you mean, ‘quit being mercenaries’? Sister Linda, we’re My Lord’s household guard now! Guards! Okay?” Lilia pouted, a little displeased.

“Alright, alright, we’re household guards now.” Linda sighed and said, “We should get going. My Lord said he’s going to teach me how to make griddled freshwater prawns today. I imagine that will be delicious.”

“Of course.”

As the two chatted and laughed on their way back to the camp, a woman’s pained moan came from a nearby thicket of trees.

Linda and Lilia exchanged a look, then tacitly set down their shrimp traps, drew their weapons, and crept toward the thicket one behind the other.

As they neared the trees, they heard a woman’s muffled whimpers and the sneering laughter of several men. They instantly understood what was happening in the thicket.

“Who’s there? Get out!” Linda hacked through a branch with her longsword and shouted into the trees. Lilia also aimed her hunting bow at the source of the sound within the thicket.

A flurry of panicked sounds came from the thicket. After a moment, a shifty-eyed man poked his head out.

“Ah, so it’s Big Sister Linda and Lilia. Come on out, everyone.” The sleazy man smiled fawningly at Linda.

A moment later, several more men in leather armor crawled out from the trees. They were all from the militia Narsen had recruited from among the subjects.

“What are you doing?!” Linda demanded sharply, her grip on her longsword not relaxing in the slightest. The cold glint of the blade made the men shrink back.

“N-nothing. We just spent some money to have a little fun,” the sleazy man said with a placating smile. His sparse, yellow teeth made Linda feel particularly disgusted.

Hearing their companion’s reply, the few militiamen who had been tense began to relax. A flush of anger crossed Linda’s face, and she took an offensive stance while Lilia drew her hunting bow taut.

“Get the person inside out here, too!” Linda’s icy voice sent a shiver down the men’s spines.

After another moment, a tall, brawny man came out of the thicket, dragging a disheveled woman with him.

His name was Logen, a squad leader in the militia in charge of three men. Having his fun interrupted made the brutish man very unhappy. He shoved the woman in his grasp to the ground in front of Linda and spat disdainfully on the ground.

“Can’t we spend some money to have a little fun? You bitch, tell Sister Linda what’s going on!” Logen barked viciously at the woman on the ground.

“Yeah. We spent a lot of money.” Logen’s tough attitude made his underlings bold.

“I… I took their money,” the woman on the ground mumbled in a low voice, pulling at her clothes in an attempt to cover her bruised body.

Lilia sighed inwardly and relaxed her drawn bow.

She knew this woman was a farmer’s wife and had two children, but this was the sort of thing she couldn’t meddle in.

“Can we go now, Sister Linda?” Logen said mockingly.

Looking at the woman on the ground, trembling and silently weeping, Linda’s eyes began to redden. It reminded her of her older sister.

When Linda was young, her parents had died of illness one after another. It was her sister who had supported her with her skills as a seamstress.

The two helpless sisters became the targets of the town’s ruffians. Finally, one day, several of them broke into their home. After threats and a beating, her sister was murdered.

A neighbor who couldn’t bear to watch reported it to the magistrate, but after the scoundrels presented the magistrate with a hefty “tribute,” the matter was dropped.

Linda, who was old enough to understand, fled her home that very night. With the help of a kind neighbor, she was taken in by a circus. After much wandering, Linda finally joined the War Bear Mercenary Company, where she learned how to use a sword to protect herself and others.

Linda had thought of revenge, but by the time she returned, she found that the small town had been razed to the ground by the Sassans.

But she had not forgotten her sister’s humiliated and terrified eyes, just like this woman’s.

Nor had she forgotten her sister’s body, covered in wounds, just like this woman’s.

And she certainly had not forgotten the ruffians’ ugly faces, just like Logen’s!

“Die!”

The longsword flew, just as she had imagined it countless times.

The flock of birds in the forest, startled into the air by this sudden act of vengeance, cried out as they flew into the distance.

Linda just stood there, letting the blood drip from her longsword.

Chapter 24: Expulsion

Over the past few days of their journey, Victor had noticed Nicole was in very low spirits. The threat that the ferocious Gnoll had posed to Victor had left the self-deprecating and sensitive apprentice knight feeling immensely guilty.

Seeing Nicole grow quiet and withdrawn, Victor wanted to comfort her but couldn’t think of a good way.

He decided to try and distract her with some delicacies that didn’t exist in this world. Edwen was full of praise, and under the influence of the group’s cheerful atmosphere, Nicole also brightened up considerably.

Today, Victor had sent Lilia and her people to the river to catch some delicious freshwater prawns, preparing to make his specialty, griddled prawns, for everyone to enjoy. However, a household guard had just killed a militiaman!

“That’s what happened, my esteemed lord.” Maus lowered his head under Victor’s disgusted gaze, hiding his vile features beneath his hood.

Maus was a scoundrel with a belly full of malice. Back in Black Fortress Town, he had been a pickpocket for some gang. After pocketing a fresh haul of stolen goods for himself, he was marked for death by the gang’s boss.

To escape with his life, Maus took advantage of the Wimbledon family’s recruitment of subjects, disguised himself as a tanner, and joined the caravan heading south. But Maus was never one to lie low. Having just escaped one disaster, he was already stirring up trouble again. He knew that his skinny frame and wretched appearance meant he wasn’t leadership material, so he just wanted to find a backer.

That was when Logen, the militia squad leader in charge of food distribution, caught his eye.

Logen and his two brothers were originally farmers from the eastern provinces. Though reckless, they were relatively honest. Strong and sturdy, Logen and his brothers were chosen by Narsen to become militia squad leaders.

Although Maus was unpleasant to look at, his cunning and bloody life in the gangs had made him an expert at reading people and brown-nosing. After a few instances of subtle flattery, the worldly-unwise Logen brothers quickly came to treat Maus as one of their own.

Under Maus’s constant instigation, the Logen brothers began to use their power over food distribution to exploit and coerce the timid farmwives. After getting a taste of it a few times, the victims’ silence made the men increasingly audacious. The three once-simple brothers became thorough scoundrels, just like Maus.

Until they met Linda.

The moment Linda killed Logen, Maus let out a shriek shriller than any woman’s and ran back toward the camp without a second thought, his speed rivaling that of a rabbit chased by Tiku hounds.

The cunning Maus knew that staying put meant certain death. He had to blow the matter up before Narsen could react; only then would he have a sliver of a chance to survive.

“Murder! Murder!” Maus shouted as he ran through the camp, quickly startling everyone, including Victor.

In front of the entire crowd, Maus openly accused Linda of murdering Logen.

Victor looked at the two brothers kneeling on the ground, wailing over Logen’s corpse, then at Linda, the female mercenary standing beside Narsen, her hands bound and her face pale. He felt a great sense of unease.

Narsen’s War Bear Mercenaries were the only military force Victor could currently rely on, and Narsen’s performance along the way had not disappointed him. Victor also knew that Linda was Narsen’s partner, so he couldn’t order her execution under any circumstances.

However, Linda had brazenly killed a militiaman, a fact that even she admitted. If he couldn’t handle Linda justly, Victor would inevitably lose the trust of all his subjects. For a new lord, such a rift was fatal.

Victor decided to ask the old scholar for help.

“Master, how do you normally handle such matters?” Victor asked Edwen, who was beside him, in a low voice.

“I never handle these things personally. My steward is responsible for them,” Edwen said, holding his hands out to Victor.

Victor turned his gaze to Bruce. The Knight shook his head, indicating that he, too, would not personally handle such trivial matters.

Seeing Victor in a bind, Maus gloated inwardly. He knew that no matter how Victor dealt with Linda, he had saved his own skin for the time being.

“My lord, I am willing to accept any punishment,” Linda said, stepping forward, ignoring Narsen’s livid expression.

Victor remained silent. His instincts told him things were not as simple as they seemed. But the farmwife had admitted she did it for money and food, and Linda had indeed killed Logen after learning the cause of the incident.

Still, one look at Maus’s wretched face convinced Victor that there was something fishy going on!

Victor activated Super Sense and Overlimit. He needed to gather more information from the details.

Sight, hearing, and perception projected all the surrounding images and sounds into Victor’s mind, forming an exceptionally clear three-dimensional picture. With X-3 continuously correcting and filtering, Victor accurately grasped the expressions of everyone present and their whispered conversations.

Besides the anxiety and worry of the War Bear Mercenaries and the anger and numbness of the onlooking subjects, he also picked up a few flickers of schadenfreude.

“Good riddance!”

“That animal finally got what he deserved.”

A few farmers were muttering to themselves, and X-3 singled them out from the noise.

“You, you, and you. Step forward,” Victor said, pointing them out from the crowd one by one.

“Don’t be afraid. What’s your name?” Victor chose the farmer who showed the most hatred for the deceased and asked him in a gentle tone.

“My lord, my name is Reid.” Victor’s warm attitude made the farmer much bolder.

“Reid, I’m giving you a chance. Tell me what you know. If you hide anything and cause me to misjudge, I will order you to be hanged.” Victor’s direct words were like a sharp knife, backing the hesitant farmer into a corner.

“My lord, I have something to say! Logen and his men used the excuse that children couldn’t receive rations to short our families on food every time. To feed our children, we had to use our own savings to buy food from him. Now that our money is gone, our wives had no choice but to submit to those brutes, and then use the money they received to trade for food from them.”

“Is that so?” Victor asked the others.

“Yes, my lord.”

“That’s right.”

Receiving affirmative answers, Victor said with a cold smile, “In other words, the household guard Linda killed a thief who was stealing my grain.”

“My lord, spare me! This has nothing to do with me, I knew nothing about it! I was just Logen’s friend, not one of his militiamen! I didn’t take part in their theft!” As soon as Maus saw the subjects turning their angry glares on them, he threw himself to the ground and begged for mercy, completely absolving himself of any blame. A boss, after all, was not just for eating the first bite of meat, but also for taking the fall.

“Linda, as a household guard of the Wimbledon family, you killed a thief who was stealing family property without my permission. You have committed the crime of transgression. I hereby fine you a penance fee of two hundred Gold Sols,” Victor pronounced his judgment on Linda.

Two hundred Gold Sols was a huge sum for Linda, but with Narsen’s help, she could still pay it. For the next two years, however, Narsen would effectively be working for Victor for free.

“As for these thieves, strip them of their status as subjects, give them each ten lashes, and drive them out of the camp.”

Hearing that Victor was merely banishing them, Maus was overjoyed, though he maintained a look of terror on his face.

“I’ve made a fool of myself in front of you, Master,” Victor said politely to Edwen.

Edwen knew Victor had some internal affairs to deal with next. He smiled and said, “Victor, don’t mind me. But you can’t just forget about those griddled freshwater prawns you promised.”

After Edwen, Bruce, and the others had returned to their carriage, Victor dispersed the onlookers and called Narsen to stay.

“My lord, I…” Seeing Victor’s cold gaze, Narsen found himself unable to voice the words of gratitude he had intended to say.

“Narsen, I don’t care if those scumbags deserved to die or not. There is one thing you must remember: no one can kill my subjects without punishment, and no one can execute a criminal in my domain without my permission. This is the last time, and the only time. Do you understand?”

As a lord, the protector of order, Victor could not tolerate such a challenge to his authority. He felt it necessary to put Narsen in his place.

“I understand, my lord,” Narsen replied solemnly, a chill running through his heart.

“Also, isn’t it time to let Old Ham’s Tiku hounds out for a walk?” Victor said coldly before turning to leave.

Victor was not a cold-blooded or cruel person, but he especially detested scum who liked to bully the weak.

“Yes, my lord. It is time for them to have a walk.” A curve formed at the corner of the War Bear captain’s mouth, his glistening white teeth hinting at a chilling intent.

Gazing at the gradually receding caravan, Maus and the others limped in the opposite direction.

“We’re all going to die! We’re going to be eaten by wild beasts! Maus, this is all your fault! If you hadn’t egged Logen on, we wouldn’t be in this mess,” one of Logen’s brothers complained loudly.

Maus said nothing, single-mindedly walking forward.

Seeing Maus, who usually fawned all over him, dare to ignore him, the man roared and lunged at Maus, grabbing his collar, intending to teach him a lesson.

Just before the man’s fist could smash into his face, a sharp dagger flashed between Maus’s fingers and pressed against the man’s neck.

“Listen here, you idiot, I was killing people when you were still tilling fields back home. What? You want to try me?” The small knife rested on the militiaman’s artery, and Maus’s viper-like aura terrified him.

Once the madness brought on by power had faded, the humility and cowardice of farmers returned to these pitiful wretches.

“Listen up, you fools! The only way to survive is to follow me. I will lead you back to Black Fortress Town. Before then, if anyone gives me trouble, I’ll let them have a taste of a knife carving flesh!”

Maus cackled, immensely pleased that he could intimidate these men who were far stronger than him. Just as he was preparing to employ some more scare tactics, a series of whimpers reached their ears.

They looked around in terror, only to find that the dog trainer, Old Ham, had somehow caught up with them. He sat on horseback, smiling coldly down at them.

Chapter 25: A New Beginning

After traveling for more than twenty days straight, Victor felt a weariness settle in. The events of the previous day had made him realize that he was not yet ready to be a lord.

The migration of over four hundred people was not as simple as just keeping these commoners fed, clothed, and safe from monsters. Beyond these basic guarantees, these people would have other needs, such as spouses, rights, and status within the group.

Narsen was an experienced mercenary captain. The fact that not a single subject had died at the hands of a monster during the entire journey was a testament to his ability. However, he was not skilled at managing these commoners either.

With no checks on their power, a small advantage in status had quickly turned a few militiamen into bullies who preyed on the weak. So, what kind of changes might the official members of the War Bear Mercenaries undergo?

Victor believed that the members of the War Bear Mercenary Company had not yet become as vicious as those militiamen, not because they were inherently good, but because the mercenaries had not yet registered the change in their roles. They still saw this migration as a protection mission and were strictly adhering to the mercenary code of conduct.

The recent incident would make some of them realize that everything was different now.

Come to think of it, Victor even had to thank that creep, Maus. If he hadn’t decisively publicized the matter, Victor could only imagine that Narsen, in order to protect his own men, would have silenced those few militiamen in private, and Victor would have been kept in the dark.

Narsen was a mercenary who abided by his code of ethics, but that didn’t make him a good person. In fact, a mercenary who lived by the sword could hardly be called kind. If he started handling problems in that manner, he would be like a beast that had tasted human flesh for the first time, one that would continue to hunt humans. And Victor would completely lose control of this group.

The thought weighed heavily on Victor’s mind.

“You need a steward!” the old scholar stated, hitting the nail on the head.

Regarding yesterday’s incident, whether it was Edwen, Bruce, or even Nicole and the other apprentice knights, all had been quite indifferent. They didn’t care about the coerced peasant woman, nor about the slain Logen, and they certainly didn’t inquire about the fate of the exiled militiamen.

Victor realized that in this world, there was a great divide between the nobility and the common folk. The bridge between the two was formed by the administrators appointed by the nobles: stewards, town mayors, magistrates, village chiefs, and so on. These people were the eyes, ears, and claws of the nobility’s rule over the commoners.

“How should I go about choosing a steward?” Victor had no choice but to ask Master Edwen for advice.

Most of the memories in Victor’s mind were about noble etiquette and techniques for pleasing women, not the statecraft required to be a competent lord. This was all thanks to Marchioness Sophia.

“A lord’s steward isn’t a position just anyone can fill. He must not only be skilled at handling the domain’s affairs, big and small, but also be well-versed in noble etiquette. Most importantly, he must be absolutely loyal to his lord. And before all that, he must first be literate,” Edwen said to Victor, gently blowing away the steam rising from his pine nut tea.

Victor was greatly discouraged. On the requirement of literacy alone, he could hardly find anyone among his subjects.

“In fact, the stewards of most noble families are groomed from childhood. They are often of the family’s own bloodline. Only this can ensure their absolute loyalty to the family, and their descendants will continue to serve the family for generations. These people are also the candidates for village chief, town mayor, magistrate, and tax collector,” Edwen added, twisting the knife as he saw Victor’s disheartened expression.

Victor knew Edwen was speaking the truth. The Wimbledon family was a thousand-year-old noble house with a history older than the Kingdom of Gambis itself. When the young Baron had set out for the Centaur Hills, Sophia had sent a family steward to serve him. That steward was also of the Wimbledon bloodline. He had managed everything in perfect order along the way, but when they were attacked by bandits, that steward had been the first to be slaughtered.

Looking back now, this was very likely a tactic by the York family to get a hold on the young Baron, Victor thought to himself.

“It seems I’ll have to put this aside for now,” Victor said helplessly.

“You should consider taking Captain Narsen’s sister as your personal handmaiden. If she bears your child in the future, that child would be the natural choice for the family steward,” Edwen suggested, in a tone that was half-joking and half-serious.

Victor’s heart skipped a beat. Narsen was the main force he could rely on at present. Strengthening his ties with Narsen in this way was indeed a good option. Besides, Lilia was youthful and captivating, pretty and endearingly naive, possessing a vitality different from that of noble ladies. She herself also held a great deal of fondness for Victor.

In the time to come, Narsen and his men would be the crucial force for maintaining Victor’s rule. Winning over Narsen was therefore a necessity. This was likely the old scholar’s true reason for suggesting Victor take Lilia as his personal handmaiden.

Victor knew that Narsen didn’t want Lilia getting too close to him; he was afraid his sister wouldn’t have a good future.

A noble’s personal handmaiden was a legally recognized partner, holding a high status within the domain, and any children they bore could potentially awaken a knight’s bloodline. Once such an heir successfully became a Knight, their right to the family inheritance would be immediately recognized. Therefore, becoming a noble’s personal handmaiden was a destiny that commoner women widely yearned for.

Victor stole a glance at Nicole, only to find the female apprentice knight wearing an expression that said it was all perfectly natural.

“While Captain Narsen may not have a noble bloodline, he is a powerful ferocious warrior and deserves respect.”

Victor’s silence made Bruce the Knight mistakenly think he was scornful of Lilia’s status, and he couldn’t help but speak up for Narsen. After spending so many days together, the proud Knight had come to greatly admire Narsen’s ability and strength.

Taking someone’s sister as a personal handmaiden is actually a sign of respect for him… This truly is the vile logic of the aristocracy.

“It is indeed a solution, but I need to ask Narsen, as well as Lilia, for their opinions first. I respect their choice.” His modern values made Victor hesitate, but he had to admit this might be his best option.

“Until I have a qualified administrator, I will personally shoulder these internal affairs. Though it may be unbecoming of a noble, it is my duty, after all,” Victor announced.

“Then what do you plan to do?” Edwen stroked his beard, intrigued by Victor’s idea.

“I plan to divide these subjects into six groups and have them elect their own group leaders. These leaders will guide their members in completing the tasks I assign. The leaders can report any problems they encounter directly to me, and I will handle them as I see fit,” Victor replied.

“But you cannot guarantee their loyalty. Perhaps these men will soon become just like that man Logen. They will band together to deceive you and use your name to exploit those under them. Never underestimate the petty cunning and brazen audacity of these lowborn. When they turn to evil, they have no bottom line!” The old scholar was not optimistic about Victor’s method.

“You are right. For people without moral conviction, absolute power leads to absolute corruption. That’s why I also plan to assign a deputy group leader to each group. These deputies cannot interfere with the work of the group leaders, but every ten days, they can report directly to me what they have seen and heard. The position of deputy group leader will be held by adult subjects in rotation.”

Supervision and reporting were effective means of checking power. As a transmigrator, Victor naturally understood this principle.

“Absolute power leads to absolute corruption? A very profound insight. I must admit, Victor, you have greatly surprised me!” Edwen exclaimed in amazement.

“A good method, Victor. I must remind you, don’t forget to use the whip!”

Bruce the Knight’s earnest advice left Victor speechless.

As Victor and the others exchanged their views, a cheer erupted from the front of the column.

After more than twenty days of trekking, they had finally arrived at their new domain.

Victor climbed a slope. What greeted his eyes was a boundless sea of purple. Looking closer, he saw that it was composed of purple plants, each over a person’s height. Their stalks were ramrod straight, without branches, but with clusters of purple leaves sprouting from the top. They stood one next to the other, crowded together, layered one upon another. A light breeze swept through, and the purple leaves rustled, like ripples, like ocean waves—a magnificent sight.

Gazing at the magnificent, boundless sea of purple, listening to the vibrant chirping of birds and insects, Victor’s heart was filled with a mix of emotions. He would bid farewell to his past selves—be it the ill-fated man from his previous life, or the young noble whose life had been shadowed by crisis. Here, he would greet a new beginning.

Chapter 26: The Reason Why

“We call this plant Purple Cane,” Edwen said, spitting the fibrous residue onto the ground. “They’re a crop planted by the Forest Centaurs. The juice is sweet and delicious, but unfortunately, there’s too much pulp. It’s completely inedible for us humans unless we have teeth as strong and stomachs as many as a centaur’s.”

Victor looked at the felled Purple Cane in his hand and savored the sweet taste in his mouth, a thrill running through him.

This crop was clearly this world’s version of sugarcane!

Of course, it was somewhat different from the sugarcane on Earth. The surface of the Purple Cane was smooth, without nodes. Compared to the syrupy sweetness of sugarcane, its flavor was a bit lighter, with a unique, fresh fragrance. But it had far more dregs than sugarcane, so much so that it even pricked his tongue as he chewed.

“Why haven’t I seen this crop anywhere else in the Centaur Hills? For example, you don’t see any Purple Cane in Black Fortress or Baron Eskri’s territory,” Victor said, tossing the cane aside. The residue was too coarse and plentiful; he had no desire to try it again.

“Because it was all cut down, of course,” Edwen said with a grin. “The Forest Centaurs planted this stuff all over the fertile lands of the hills. If the farmers didn’t clear it out, they couldn’t plant their own crops. In fact, after these past few years of development, the original landscape of the Centaur Hills has been all but destroyed. Your territory is the only place left where you can still see it as it once was.”

Due to other research, the old scholar had been unable to participate in the exploration of the Centaur Hills in previous years. Now, if he wanted to see any traces of civilization left behind by the Forest Centaurs, Victor’s territory was his only option.

This also meant that the land Sylvia had exchanged for Victor’s was clearly an undeveloped wasteland. It was just that he hadn’t had any other choice at the time.

The thought left Victor a little dejected. But when he saw the vast groves of Purple Cane, he couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement.

Sugar didn’t exist in this world yet. The common sweetener was wild honey, which was rare and precious, not even enough to satisfy the demands of the nobility. If Victor could use Purple Cane to develop sugar, it would bring him immense wealth.

“The Purple Cane tastes sweet, even if it has too much residue. But if it were just used for its juice, it should make a decent beverage, right?”

“Some people do juice it,” the old scholar said with an indifferent shrug. “But the nobility generally considers Forest Centaurs a type of centaur, and therefore lowly beastmen. And only commoners would eat the food of beastmen. That’s why the lords everywhere have had the Purple Cane all but chopped down.”

This was both good and bad news. On one hand, no one had yet recognized the value of Purple Cane. On the other, it would likely be no easy task to get the nobility to accept sugar made from it.

A clamor erupted from the crowd up ahead. Victor and Edwen walked over and saw people gathered around a huge net, inside of which was a massive, strange bird.

The creature was enormous, comparable in size to a full-grown horse. It had a large, sharp beak, and its dark green feathers shimmered. Its powerful, sharp claws were desperately scratching at the ground, trying to tear through the net. But the net, woven from coarse flax, was both tough and difficult to get a purchase on. The giant bird could only lie on the ground, letting out futile cries of “Awk! Awk!”

Seeing their lord and Master Edwen approach, the onlookers quickly cleared a path.

“What is this?” Victor asked curiously, looking at the strange bird that seemed like a mix between a velociraptor and a rooster.

“My lord, we don’t know either,” a member of the War Bear Mercenaries explained to Victor. “A few of the subjects were trying to catch some ground lizards to improve their meals and found this thing in the Purple Cane grove. So I led some men and captured it.”

“This is a Swiftbird, a large, flightless bird unique to the Centaur Hills. They are strong and excel at running, even faster than warhorses. They feed on Purple Cane leaves and other plants, and sometimes hunt ground lizards and frogs. Swiftbirds are incredibly powerful; they can easily kick hard enough to break a man’s ribs, and their sharp beaks can peck through leather armor. You should be thankful no one was injured while capturing it.”

Edwen gazed in pleasant surprise at the strange bird struggling in the net and continued, “Swiftbirds have huge appetites. When there isn’t enough food, they’ll ruin farmers’ crops. Plus, their meat is tender and delicious, so many lords in the Centaur Hills ordered them to be hunted. You can’t find these giant birds anywhere else in the hills now. How fortunate! I thought I’d never get to taste this delicacy in my lifetime. I can’t believe we caught a live one as soon as I arrived in your territory.”

Victor didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the old scholar’s last sentence.

As expected, the concept of animal conservation did not exist in the world of a foodie.

Meanwhile, in the Royal Capital of Gambis, at the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence.

From behind a curtain of light gauze, Lord Abel reported what he had seen and heard in Black Fortress to a lady with a graceful figure.

“My lady, I believe we should immediately petition the Senate, requesting a suspension of Victor’s impeachment, and at the same time dispatch Knights to Black Fortress to stabilize the situation there,” Abel said, his attitude respectful.

“It’s too late, Abel,” a voice as pleasant as a clear spring trickled from behind the gauze. “The day before you returned, the Senate had already obtained the land exchange document personally signed by Victor. The York family has exchanged a piece of land in the southern hills for Victor’s territory.”

“How could this be? Before I left, I specifically instructed Victor not to act rashly. How could he have signed the document?” Abel asked, his face pale with disbelief.

“It’s not surprising. Since she already decided to move against us, she wouldn’t leave any openings. Even if Victor hadn’t signed the exchange agreement, we would have had no chance of winning the debate in the Senate. You may not know, but just three days ago, Grand Duke Williams’s first heir, Viscount Charles, was betrothed to the granddaughter of Marquess Grewald, the Vice-Speaker of the Senate. We are now at a complete disadvantage in the Senate, so whether Victor signed the agreement or not, it wouldn’t change the fact that the York family is consolidating its territory.”

“I never imagined Earl York’s methods would be so ruthless,” Abel said, crestfallen after hearing the lady’s explanation. He had always fancied himself a clever and resourceful man, but he never expected his strategies to be so insignificant in the face of the great nobles’ schemes.

“Hmph! That fat pig York isn’t worth mentioning. I’m talking about his wife, Sylvia.” A woman of incomparable beauty lifted the gauze curtain and glided out.

The woman appeared to be around twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old, looking mature and sophisticated, yet upon closer inspection, she seemed like an innocent maiden not yet twenty. She wore a white, waist-cinching long dress, simple in style but perfectly tailored, exquisitely outlining her slender figure and graceful curves, a hint of sensuality peeking through her demure elegance. Her skin was snow-white, her features delicate, her bearing graceful and dignified. A head of vibrant purple hair and eyes as captivating as amethysts added a touch of mystery and allure. Youthfulness and maturity, modesty and sensuality, dignity and seductiveness were all perfectly embodied in her, creating a unique and wondrous charm.

She was none other than Victor’s nominal wife—Marchioness Sophia Wimbledon.

As if captivated by his mistress’s radiant beauty, Lord Abel quickly bowed his head to the Marchioness.

“Are you wondering why I didn’t send Knights to the Centaur Hills with Victor in the first place?” Sophia seemed to see through the confusion and dissatisfaction in her trusted subordinate’s heart.

Indeed, if Sophia had sent just two Knights with Victor, his safety would have been guaranteed, and the subsequent events would never have happened.

“Sylvia and I have a certain bond. To be honest, even though we stand on opposite sides, I was unwilling to offend her. Not sending Knights to the Centaur Hills was precisely the message I was sending her. I knew that with Sylvia’s personality, she would take strong measures when pressed by the Prince’s Faction, but I never imagined that hussy would completely disregard our past friendship and move against us first!” the Wimbledon Marchioness said angrily.

“What should we do about Victor?” Lord Abel asked, bracing himself as he faced the furious Marchioness.

Regardless of whether the York family could complete its territorial consolidation, Victor personally signing the land exchange agreement was a betrayal of the family and had foiled the Prince’s Faction’s plans in the hills. Such an act had to be punished.

Even within the same faction, unity was never absolute. In the Royal Capital, Sophia was known for her beauty and wealth. She had three merchant guilds that earned her enormous profits each year, a process that naturally offended certain families, including some within the Prince’s Faction. One could imagine that these families would surely use Victor’s “betrayal” to censure Sophia.

“I understand what you mean. While we may face some criticism, this isn’t necessarily a bad thing for us. Her Majesty Catherine has always been suspicious of my relationship with Sylvia. This conflict will surely put her mind at ease, especially since we lost five hundred thousand Gold Sol. As for Victor… his cowardice and weakness have disappointed me. From this moment on, cut off all support to him. That hussy Sylvia will make him understand what regret is!” As she spoke of Victor, a trace of pity flickered in Sophia’s eyes, only to be swiftly replaced by indifference.

Abel was about to say more when a handmaiden approached, curtsied to Sophia, and said, “Marchioness, as you invited, Lord Andre is already waiting in the drawing-room.”

“Andre is here already?!” Sophia exclaimed in pleasant surprise. “Lucy, quickly, come and see if my hair is alright!”

Hearing that her invited guest had arrived, two peachy blossoms bloomed on her jade-like cheeks, and her bright eyes curved into two crescent moons. A moment ago, she was a formidable woman of great ambition; in a flash, she had transformed into a lovestruck maiden with adoration in her eyes. Ignoring Abel, who stood frozen to the side, Sophia led her handmaiden back into the room.

Andre was a Gold Knight from the Eastern United Kingdom of Borea. Not only was he powerful, but he was also young and handsome, as dazzling as the sun. He had only been in the Royal Capital of Gambis for half a year, but his elegant demeanor and noble bloodline had already won the favor of countless noble ladies. Yet he always conducted himself with integrity, and no scandals were ever attached to his name. This only made him more captivating to many noblewomen, the Marchioness Wimbledon included.

So that’s the real reason you kicked Victor out of the Royal Capital, Abel thought to himself.

In fact, aside from young Victor himself, the entire noble circle of the Royal Capital was gossiping that Sophia had sent her inconvenient little husband to the distant Centaur Hills so she could pursue the Gold Knight Andre.

Victor was in the Centaur Hills with no money and no men, and the York family had swapped his barony for a wasteland. And now, his own family had completely cut off his support… Abel couldn’t even begin to imagine the situation Victor would have to face from now on.

Fend for yourself, Victor… Abel sighed, then turned and left the Marchioness’s residence.

Chapter 27: The Cave

Standing before the moss-covered castle, Victor’s face was ashen. He now knew the true meaning of regret.

He glanced at Knight Bruce, who stared straight ahead, avoiding his gaze. He then turned to Nicole. The female apprentice knight had her head bowed, staring intently at the ground in front of her toes as if she were about to discover a secret there.

Compared to the other intelligent races of this world, humans were not the strongest, nor the most prolific. Their wisdom and lifespans were not the greatest either. The one thing humans relied on to build their kingdoms was their ability to construct cities and fortresses.

High, sturdy walls, castles, and forts protected humanity from the harm of other powerful races, allowing them to multiply and thrive behind these defenses, thereby creating a brilliant civilization.

If Knights were the core of humanity’s expansion, then castles were the core of their control over their territory. Thus, over thousands of years, building a castle on one’s land gradually became the prerequisite for a lord to control their fief and declare their sovereignty.

The Kingdom of Gambia followed this tradition. The kingdom’s pioneering decree stipulated that only after a pioneer lord had built a castle on their new land would the kingdom recognize their legal ownership of the fief. Furthermore, the kingdom had explicit requirements for the castle’s specifications based on the lord’s title.

Castles were incredibly expensive to build. The one Sophia had constructed for Victor in his Pioneer Fief had cost seventy thousand Gold Sols. Unfortunately, Victor had been captured by the Bloodfox Bandit Group before he could even set foot inside.

The York family had signed an exchange agreement with Victor for this fief, with the prerequisite that they, too, had to build a castle on the land. Otherwise, the agreement would be void, for without a castle, there could be no sovereignty.

The castle before Victor’s eyes was, in fact, built in complete accordance with the Kingdom of Gambia’s requirements, composed of a keep, curtain walls, arrow towers, a moat, a drawbridge, and a portcullis. It was also built with extremely sturdy greystone, capable of withstanding the attack of at least a Silver Knight.

But why the hell was it only six meters high?

Six meters was only about the height of a two-story building. In other words, this castle was equivalent to a two-story farmhouse from Earth, just built in the style of an ancient European castle.

Gazing at the miniature castle and his dumbfounded subjects, Victor felt he was on the verge of a breakdown.

The York family’s Black Fortress could accommodate five thousand people, and Eskri’s castle could hold five hundred. The one before Victor… could hold twenty.

This is shoddy work! A fraudulent project born from the collusion between a regional great noble and a great noble from the Royal Capital! A scheme of the most malicious nature, aimed at deceiving the Senate and the victim! Victor ranted furiously in his mind, but what could he do? They had connections in high places.

Shooting a hateful glare at the members of the York family, who were all playing deaf and dumb, Victor addressed his onlooking subjects: “You’ve all seen the castle. It’s clear we can’t live in it. So today, we’ll have to find a suitable place to make camp. Over the next few days, we’ll need to build a fortified camp to settle in for the time being.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Victor heard someone in the crowd mutter.

“How is this any different from being freemen?”

Indeed. Without the protection of a castle and its walls, these common people couldn’t even sleep peacefully at night.

Victor could only pretend he hadn’t heard and prepared to arrange for men to find a campsite.

“Victor, I know a suitable place to make camp,” Nicole said timidly, approaching him and speaking in a submissive tone.

Seeing Victor’s stony face, Nicole had no choice but to continue, “About a half-day’s journey southwest from here, there’s a place very suitable for building a camp.” As she spoke, the female apprentice knight took out a parchment map.

Victor’s thoughts turned, and he instantly understood. The York family had surveyed this area before and drawn a map. Sylvia must have given it to Nicole in advance and instructed her to do this.

Seeing Nicole’s expression, which looked on the verge of tears, Victor’s heart softened. He took the map and patted her hand comfortingly. “It’s alright, this isn’t your fault.”

However, the thought of Sylvia made him grind his teeth in hatred. He secretly vowed that if he ever had the chance, he would teach her a harsh lesson.

Victor wasted no more time and led everyone toward the campsite marked on the map.

Perhaps feeling that his family’s actions were indeed dishonorable, Bruce, contrary to his usual behavior, took his retainers and led the way. The journey was calm and uneventful.

When they reached their destination, Victor observed the terrain and was greatly pleased with the campsite the York family had marked.

It was a hill, a good four hundred meters high. Though not tall, it covered a large area. Unlike other hills, this one had one gentle slope and three steep sides. The gentle slope itself was also very peculiar; the entire incline was rather narrow, barely wide enough for two carriages to pass. The sides of the path were steep slopes, which an ordinary person couldn’t even stand on without using some kind of tool.

As they made their way halfway up the mountain, the people were thrilled to discover a flat plateau.

Victor visually estimated the plateau to be about 1.5 square kilometers in area. Looking back at the narrow, winding path, he immediately understood what it meant for one man to guard the pass against ten thousand. This was indeed a naturally defensible campsite, easy to hold and difficult to attack.

Beside him, the scholar Edwen remarked, “This doesn’t look like a natural flatland. It must have been artificially modified.”

“We also believe it was artificially modified. A year ago, the family guards discovered many small huts on this plateau. This must have been a Halfling settlement. Unfortunately, everything in the huts had been moved out. Our men later dismantled those huts,” Bruce said, confirming the old scholar’s guess.

“A Halfling village?! Heavens, what have you done?” Upon hearing that the York family had razed the Halfling village, Edwen was so angry he rolled his eyes and tore out several strands of his beard.

Halflings were a rare, intelligent race. They were short, an adult Halfling standing only about 120 centimeters tall, slightly shorter even than Dwarves. However, their build was not stout like a Dwarf’s, but well-proportioned like a human’s, just smaller.

Halflings did not possess great strength and were not skilled in combat. To survive, they often attached themselves to more powerful races, such as the Forest Centaurs.

Halflings were very dextrous. They were skilled at making all sorts of tools and crafting various kinds of equipment. This ability was particularly useful to the less-nimble Forest Centaurs, so Centaur tribes warmly welcomed Halflings to join them and protected them with all their might. In return, the Halflings helped the Centaurs craft equipment, maintain their weapons, and would also provide medical care to injured Centaurs. This close cooperation led to a stable, symbiotic relationship between the two races.

There were also rumors that Halflings were excellent cooks. Their methods of preparing food were unique and incredibly delicious, and many great human nobles hoped to get their hands on a Halfling’s secret recipe.

Victor suspected this might be the real reason for Edwen’s anger.

“My lord, something is strange up ahead. We haven’t found any traces of Goblins, Kobolds, or Gnolls. Instead, we’ve found some human footprints, likely from about two days ago.”

Just as Edwen was lamenting, Narsen came over to report their findings to Victor.

“They must be freemen. These lowly refugees probably wanted to establish a camp here,” Bruce said with a cold glint in his eyes upon hearing Narsen’s report.

“Refugees? How did they manage to survive in this land?” Victor was a little surprised. Without the protection of powerful warriors, it was difficult for freemen to survive in the wild.

“A year ago, the family guards cleared out the monsters in this fief. At that time, they found some freemen active in the area, but the soldiers didn’t bother with them. After our men built that castle, they left this temporary post. Those refugees probably saw that no one had come to take over this place for so long and got the idea of setting up camp here,” Bruce explained, a hint of embarrassment on his face as he mentioned the castle.

The York family had built that miniature castle here a year ago. It seemed Sylvia’s intention back then was purely to claim the land, not to lay a trap specifically for him. The thought inexplicably eased Victor’s mind somewhat.

“The refugee problem can be dealt with in a few days. There’s another, smaller plateau further up, and a very marvelous place there. I can take you to see it now,” Bruce said to the group with an air of mystery.

Following Bruce up the path, they saw another flat area, about 0.7 square kilometers in size. And on the cliff face bordering the plateau, there was a cave entrance, about the height of a man.

Holding a torch, Bruce led his apprentice knights into the cave first, while Victor and Edwen followed, escorted by Narsen and Nicole.

The cave entrance was not large, but the space inside was very wide. Strangely, the air inside the cave flowed freely, and one did not feel stuffy at all. The temperature was also quite moderate, not as cold as outside.

The inside of the cave showed clear signs of having been excavated. The ground was level, and there were sockets on the stone walls for holding torches.

An apprentice knight lit the torches one by one and placed them in these sockets. Under the flickering firelight, the entire cave gradually came into view.

“This is a natural cave, but it’s clearly been modified by Halflings. Look at these steps on the ground. For us, they’re a bit low and narrow. Add to that these sockets on the stone walls, and it all points to this being a Halfling storeroom. It’s a pity there’s nothing left inside,” Edwen said with some regret, gesturing with his hand at a torch socket that only reached his chest.

“But these Halflings are very clever. They carved several vents in the cliff face to keep the cave ventilated. If they were to seal the entrance, the entire cave would become their fortress against enemies. For us humans, though, it’s still a bit small. It could hide forty people at most.”

“Master, there’s another, smaller cave inside,” Bruce said to the scholar Edwen, leading everyone into an adjacent passage only three meters long.

Passing through the corridor, the group came to another spacious area. Like the first, it had a level floor, carved vents, and torch sockets on the walls. The difference was that here, there was actually a spring in the ground.

Clear spring water flowed into a three-meter-square pool, and the water that overflowed the pool ran continuously along a channel, out through a carved hole in the rock wall, and flowed all the way outside the cave.

“This is fantastic!” Seeing this, Narsen, who had been worrying about the camp’s water supply, couldn’t help but exclaim in admiration.

“This spring flows year-round, enough to supply the entire camp’s needs. I just don’t know what this platform is for,” Bruce said, patting a stone platform the size of a table next to the pool.

“There are patterns carved on it. It should be a Halfling altar,” Edwen said after carefully examining the stone platform by the light of a torch.

While everyone was marveling at the wondrous sight, Nicole noticed Victor swaying unsteadily and rushed forward to support him.

“Victor, what’s wrong with you?” Nicole asked with concern, seeing Victor’s pale face.

“It’s nothing, I just feel a little tired. I think I’ll rest here for a while,” Victor managed a weak smile at Nicole. As soon as he finished speaking, he fell backward.

Before Victor lost consciousness, a few Chinese characters flashed repeatedly in his mind.

“New hardware activating!”

Chapter 28: The Alchemy Tower

“Where is this?”

As Victor slowly regained consciousness, he looked at the vast, white expanse around him and couldn’t help but mutter to himself.

“Respected Master, this is the willspace of the Alchemy Tower you have connected to.”

A soft voice suddenly rang out beside Victor, startling him. He couldn’t help but shout, “Who’s there?!”

“I am the Tower Spirit of the 7th Alchemy Tower, Logistics Department, 19th Corps of the Néier Empire. I will serve you with all my heart, my respected Master.” The soft voice spoke again beside Victor’s ear.

Néier Empire? 19th Corps? Alchemy Tower? Victor’s mind was a complete muddle. After being stunned for a good while, he still couldn’t figure out what was going on.

“Why am I here?” Victor tried his best to sort through his jumbled memories to find a clue.

“Respected Master, you have just activated the 7th Alchemy Tower. According to procedure, you are currently in the tower’s willspace to perform the initial setup for its permissions and functions.” The voice, which called itself the Tower Spirit, answered Victor’s questions in a fixed tone.

Victor gradually began to recall what had happened to him.

When Victor and his group had walked into the cave, a message written in Chinese characters had appeared directly in his line of sight: New activatable hardware detected. Activate?

When Victor activated his Overlimit state, the X-3 would present a digital mode in his field of vision, but this was the first time it had directly displayed an option in Chinese characters.

This unprecedented situation left Victor at a loss. To be cautious, he had denied the option.

Incredibly, however, the option kept reappearing in his vision, no matter how many times he denied it.

The worst part was that this option in Chinese characters kept him in the Overlimit state. His stamina drained continuously, and once it passed a critical point, his mind began to grow sluggish.

At first, afraid that others would notice something was wrong, he pretended to be nonchalant and explored the cave with the group. By the time he sensed trouble and was about to find an excuse to leave the cave, his consciousness was already extremely fuzzy. Exhausted, all he wanted to do was lie down immediately and get a good night’s sleep, no matter where. But that damn Chinese option kept flashing in his mind, giving him no peace. In a daze, he had chosen: Activate!

After that, Victor’s world fell silent, and he lost consciousness, not waking up until he found himself in this strange place.

“Can I go back?” Victor collected himself and asked.

“Once you have completed the permission settings for the Alchemy Tower, you will exit the willspace,” the Tower Spirit replied calmly.

“There’s nothing here. How am I supposed to set anything up?” In this so-called willspace, Victor could see nothing but endless white, as if he had entered a two-dimensional world.

“You possess infinite creativity within the willspace. Everything here can be changed according to your will.” The Tower Spirit’s unchanging voice continued to sound in Victor’s ear.

An idea sparked in Victor’s mind. Countless lines instantly appeared around him, followed by various colors. Soon, he discovered that the white world where he couldn’t distinguish up from down or left from right had transformed into a room. Victor looked around the room and found it was the very room he had lived in back at Blackfort.

“Tower Spirit, can I see you?” Victor asked tentatively. The familiar environment had calmed him down, and he was beginning to be able to think about his current situation.

Soon, a person appeared opposite Victor. To his surprise, this person looked exactly like him.

“How strange. But seeing you like this makes me very uncomfortable. Can you change into something else?” Victor circled the Tower Spirit that looked identical to him and asked again.

“As you wish, Respected Master.” The Tower Spirit gave Victor a nobleman’s bow, its movements and tone identical to Victor’s own.

Immediately after, the Tower Spirit transformed into a stunning beauty with purple hair, purple eyes, a slender waist, and long legs.

Victor’s pupils contracted. This woman was none other than Marchioness Sophia from his memories.

“Why did you change into this form?” Victor asked, enunciating each word.

“This is the most profound image in Master’s memory,” the beauty before him explained calmly.

A jolt went through Victor. It seemed this Tower Spirit could probe his memories. However, its attitude of answering any question put his mind at ease for some reason.

“Change into the form of Scholar Edwen. I prefer asking him questions.”

At Victor’s command, the Tower Spirit transformed again, taking on the appearance of the old scholar.

“Alright, Tower Spirit. Now, tell me, what is the Néier Empire? And all the information you have about the 19th Corps Logistics Department and the Alchemy Tower.” Victor slowly sat down, a chair materializing behind him in an instant. The feeling of omnipotence was a novel experience for him.

“The Néier Empire is the great empire that created the alchemical civilization. The 19th Corps is the 19th-ranked corps of the empire. The corps’ logistics department is the division responsible for the corps’ logistics and supplies. The Alchemy Tower is an imperial alchemical facility for creating alchemical lifeforms,” the Tower Spirit in the form of the old scholar replied matter-of-factly.

“That’s it? Can’t you be a little more detailed?” The Tower Spirit’s simple and direct answer was driving Victor crazy.

“Based on the questions Master has asked, these are the only answers I can retrieve. For more detailed requests, please ask more detailed questions.”

The Tower Spirit’s mechanical nature made Victor realize that this unknown entity he was communicating with did not possess independent intelligence.

“Where is the Néier Empire?”

“All the land east of the Endless Forest, south of the Terrel Mountains, and north of the Goldwater River is the territory of the Néier Empire.”

“Alright. When did the Néier Empire begin, and when did it end?”

“Comparing against Master’s memories, the Néier Empire was founded twenty-eight thousand years ago, and it has not yet fallen.”

“What the hell do you mean it hasn’t fallen? Where are they now? And who is the emperor?”

“Cannot retrieve the word ‘hell’. They are here right now. The Néier Empire has no emperor.”

“Who are ‘they’? And who is the leader of Néier?”

“They are us. Because the Tower Spirit is not connected to the Alchemy Tower network, I cannot obtain more information. Currently, the one with the highest authority is you, Master. I default to you as the leader of the Néier Empire.”

After some back and forth, Victor finally managed to piece together some information.

The Néier Empire was a powerful human empire founded by alchemists twenty-eight thousand years ago. This empire had no emperor but was ruled by a council of alchemists. These alchemists mastered a technology that could alter the properties of matter and create extraordinary tools—this technology was alchemy. After the establishment of the Néier Empire, alchemy developed at a stunning pace. Alchemists began to create alchemical puppets, initially using materials like clay, stone, wood, metal, and even flesh and blood. These puppets were powerful and possessed a degree of intelligence, capable of following simple commands under an alchemist’s direction, but they lacked independent thought and thus could not perform complex tasks.

Four hundred years after its founding, the Néier Empire was attacked by other races, and war broke out.

In the subsequent war, the Empire suffered repeated defeats and heavy casualties, bringing it to the brink of collapse. At that moment, a great alchemist named Boledin invented Elemental Alchemy and used it to create an endless army of alchemical lifeforms, ultimately turning the tide of the war and thoroughly defeating the invading races.

Elemental Alchemy was different from traditional alchemy; it could only be used to create alchemical lifeforms. When creating these lifeforms, this type of alchemy no longer required traditional material components. Instead, it used special devices to directly draw the four great elements of earth, fire, wind, and water from the void to create various alchemical creatures of flesh and blood that possessed independent intelligence. These alchemical lifeforms were numerous and varied, each with different functions, but all could be classified as either beast-type or humanoid-type.

The most numerous alchemical lifeforms created by the Néier Empire were the humanoid type, chief among them being living alchemical humans that could bleed and die. These human-like alchemical lifeforms possessed a high degree of independent intelligence. Compared to the clumsy and rigid alchemical puppets, they were more flexible and better able to adapt to the changing situations on the battlefield.

It was by relying on the ceaseless production of these death-defying alchemical lifeforms that the Néier Empire ultimately achieved victory. The devices that created these lifeforms were the Alchemy Towers.

The Tower Spirit, then, was a special kind of alchemical lifeform that assisted alchemists in controlling and managing the Alchemy Towers.

A Tower Spirit had no physical form; or rather, its form was the Alchemy Tower itself, with the Spirit being the tower’s soul. In Victor’s understanding, a Tower Spirit was a type of artificial intelligence that helped the tower’s master input commands, process them, and output results. When the master of an Alchemy Tower entered it, the Tower Spirit would connect with the master’s consciousness and obey their commands.

The Alchemy Tower Victor was connected to was one that provided logistical support for the Néier Empire’s 19th Corps. Its Tower Spirit was of a lower grade, so the information it could provide was very limited.

Victor couldn’t find out what the other races who fought the Néier Empire were, nor could he determine the time and reason for the empire’s demise. He knew even less about why, tens of thousands of years later, he had become the master of an Alchemy Tower from the Néier Empire.

However, the most urgent task was to complete the functional and permission settings for the Alchemy Tower and leave this strange willspace. Victor could clearly feel that he had no secrets here.

Before Victor stood two naked adult men, a massive canine-like creature, and a bird that resembled a crow from Earth. These were all the alchemical lifeforms this Alchemy Tower could currently produce.

“Are these the only alchemical lifeforms?” Victor tapped the armrest of his chair and asked the Tower Spirit.

“The Alchemy Tower’s Creation Runes are damaged. It cannot produce more types of alchemical lifeforms.”

“Can they be repaired?”

“Connection to a superior Alchemy Tower failed. Insufficient authority. Cannot be repaired.”

With a thought, Victor caused one of the men to slowly fade into a shadow. With another thought, the shadow became solid again. This was Victor selecting whether to disable or enable the production permission for this type of alchemical lifeform.

Of course, Victor wasn’t going to disable permission for any of them. These were all wonderful surprises. Victor even suspected he might be dreaming. He even secretly pinched himself, but unfortunately, in this space, it didn’t hurt when he didn’t want it to, and it could hurt without pinching if he wanted it to. This gave him a very unreal feeling.

“Besides ordering the production function to be turned on, what other functions can I enable?”

“Respected Master, I can no longer detect any other functions of the Alchemy Tower. It can be assumed that the other functional runes have been damaged. Master, besides the production function, you cannot enable any others.”

“If I order the production function to be enabled now, can I leave this willspace? And will I be able to return to this willspace in the future?”

“Master, once you order the production function to be enabled, your consciousness will disconnect from the willspace. Once disconnected, the willspace will naturally disappear, and you will not be able to return to this space.”

“So, you’re saying I won’t be able to change today’s decisions in the future, is that right?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Tower Spirit, now, please tell me, what is your relationship with X-3?” Victor’s gaze was deep and sharp as he stared coldly at the “Edwen” before him.

The Tower Spirit, which had answered every question without fail, fell silent.

Chapter 29: The King

Victor sneered inwardly at the silent Tower Spirit. Just as he was about to speak again, he heard it say, “X-3 related information has been retrieved from Master’s memories, but I am currently unable to describe the connection between X-3 and myself. Please activate my autonomous intelligence, Master. I will then further analyze your questions.”

Victor hesitated.

From the moment he was forced into the Overlimit state to his entry into this Alchemy Tower’s Willspace, the entire situation had been bizarre. He felt there was some trickery afoot that he didn’t understand, which made him deeply uneasy and determined to find the truth.

Victor had to figure out two things. First, why had the X-3 Chip lost control? Second, why could the Tower Spirit read all of his memories?

In his subsequent interactions with the Tower Spirit, Victor had developed a theory: the Tower Spirit was the X-3 Chip! And the X-3 Chip had its own consciousness!

If that were true, the problem was severe. It meant the X-3 Chip was fighting him for control of his body, something he could never tolerate.

Now, the Tower Spirit’s request put Victor in a difficult position. He wanted to uncover the truth, but he was also afraid this was a trap the Tower Spirit had laid for him.

“What will change after I activate your autonomous intelligence?” Victor frowned and continued to ask.

“After my autonomous intelligence is activated, my Will Side will be loaded with more content. Only then can I analyze complex issues and provide the results of my analysis. I will also be able to proactively offer suggestions to Master,” the Tower Spirit replied woodenly.

“What is a Will Side?” Victor keenly caught the key term.

“Respected Master, the Will Side is a component that makes up the soul.” The Tower Spirit’s stiff reply left Victor quite frustrated.

“After I activate your autonomous intelligence, will my control over the Willspace change in any way?”

“Respected Master, there will be no change.”

After a period of probing and deliberation, Victor decided to activate the Tower Spirit’s autonomous intelligence.

Because, even if he didn’t activate it, Victor couldn’t change anything and would still be at risk of being controlled. But if he did, things might get worse, or they might get better. It was an unknown change.

Right now, Victor needed a change, so he decided to take a gamble.

“Activate your autonomous intelligence.” Suppressing the unease in his heart, Victor commanded calmly.

“As you command, my respected Master.” After it spoke, its form as Edwen began to turn ethereal, eventually fading away before Victor’s eyes.

After waiting for about ten minutes, the old scholar gradually reappeared before Victor and smiled. “Hello, my respected Master. The Tower Spirit will serve you with all its heart.”

Looking at the Tower Spirit smiling and bowing to him, Victor was astonished to find that it was different from its previous stiff demeanor. Now, it looked like a real person.

“My respected Master, you will be very glad you activated my autonomous intelligence. Before I answer your questions, may I change my appearance?” the Tower Spirit asked Victor.

“Go ahead.” Victor thought nothing of such a small request.

Under Victor’s gaze, the Tower Spirit gradually transformed into a slender, middle-aged man in a suit. If Victor could have recognized this person, he would have known it was Qin Feng, the founder of Project Sun Swap.

“The feeling of independent thought is wonderful! I’m sorry, my Master, please forgive my lapse in composure.” After taking a deep, intoxicating breath, the middle-aged man bowed in apology to the displeased-looking Victor.

“Now, can you answer my questions?” Victor waved his hand at him.

“Of course. I will resolve your confusion and provide you with more useful information, but this may take a little time.”

The Tower Spirit adjusted the collar of its suit and continued, “Before I answer what I am, where I come from, what my purpose is, why the X-3 forced you into an Overlimit state, and why you entered the Alchemy Tower’s Willspace—before all that, please allow me to first describe my understanding of this world’s laws. This will help you clearly comprehend those more trivial questions.”

“You can know what I’m thinking right now?” The Tower Spirit had directly stated the question in Victor’s mind, which shocked him greatly.

Victor knew the Tower Spirit could read his memories, but for it to read the various thoughts constantly forming in his mind was even more terrifying.

“You don’t need to be nervous at all. In this Willspace, you have the highest authority. Moreover, my Will Side dictates that I must be absolutely loyal to you.”

The Tower Spirit saw Victor’s worry and went on to explain, “In this Willspace, our consciousnesses are linked—it is a two-way connection. I can read your memories and thoughts, and you, in turn, can do the same. The difference lies in how we process information. Intelligent lifeforms like me tend to receive all the data first and then organize it. Humans, however, are accustomed to organizing first—often by the chronological flow of events—and then receiving the data. That is why your method of retrieving information from me is to constantly ask questions, which I must answer truthfully. This is merely a difference in our processing methods.”

Hearing the Tower Spirit’s explanation, Victor breathed a small sigh of relief. He was just about to ask if he, too, could read information directly like the Tower Spirit, when it spoke.

“Humans are already accustomed to their own way of processing information. If you were to try it our way—receiving it all first and then organizing it—I believe there is a high probability you would suffer a mental breakdown from the sheer volume of information. Of course, if you insist, I will obey your will and allow you to read all the information directly.”

“Never mind. Let’s go back to the previous topic.” Victor quickly waved his hand. When he first transmigrated, the young Baron’s fragmented memories had constantly assaulted his mind. If the X-3 hadn’t helped him shield and organize those memory fragments, he would have gone mad long ago.

The Tower Spirit pointed to a strong man in front of Victor and said, “Master, this alchemical lifeform reveals the secrets of this world’s laws.”

“This alchemical human is composed of a Will Side and the four elements: earth, fire, wind, and water.”

“For a human, the Will Side is the collection of conscious elements such as memories, emotions, knowledge, skills, wisdom, personality, and habits. It’s similar to the concepts of worldview, values, and outlook on life from your previous world, Master.”

“The Will Side determines the cognition and behavior of an alchemical lifeform. The Will Side of these lifeforms comes pre-loaded. They obey their master’s commands absolutely, are fearless in the face of death, and work tirelessly without complaint. The Alchemy Tower has also established seven loadable skills for alchemical humans: construction, planting and harvesting crops, equipment crafting, long weapon mastery, short weapon mastery, ranged weapon mastery, and shield mastery.”

“On a related note, the skills recorded by the X-3 can also be loaded into the Alchemy Tower’s Will Side reserves through this initial setup.”

“First is the fire element. The fire element constructs the alchemical lifeform’s Soul Fire. The Soul Fire provides the energy for the Will Side to operate. When the Soul Fire and the Will Side combine, they form the alchemical lifeform’s soul. When the Soul Fire is extinguished, the lifeform’s Will Side falls dormant and gradually disintegrates. Therefore, the Alchemy Tower designates the fire element attribute of alchemical lifeforms as Spirit.”

“Second is the earth element. The earth element makes up the material body of the alchemical lifeform, determining its physique, strength, constitution, and endurance. The Alchemy Tower calls the earth element attribute of alchemical lifeforms Physique.”

“Third is the wind element. The wind element has no form, but it determines the alchemical lifeform’s ability to receive, process, and react to external information. This manifests as the lifeform’s sight, hearing, smell, reaction speed, agility, and so on. The wind element attribute is called Perception by the Alchemy Tower.”

“Last is the water element. The water element attribute solely determines the alchemical lifeform’s lifespan. Thus, the Alchemy Tower calls it Life.”

“On the surface, the water element seems to be the least necessary attribute for an alchemical lifeform. But in fact, the opposite is true. The water element attribute is the key difference between an alchemical lifeform and an alchemical puppet. Water possesses both the form of the earth element and the flow of the wind element. I suspect it is the water element that integrates the two mutually repulsive elements of earth and wind, allowing an alchemical lifeform to have both a strong physique and agile perception.”

“That was very detailed, but what does it have to do with my questions?” Victor was a bit confused.

“Patience, my Master. This Alchemy Tower reveals the deeper laws of this world, and these laws are intimately related to your questions. Please allow me to explain clearly.”

After Victor nodded for it to continue, the Tower Spirit went on, “All industrialized products are standardized creations, and the alchemical lifeforms produced by the Alchemy Tower are no exception. To increase production efficiency, the alchemists of the Néier Empire invented a method for elemental observation and established a unified unit for the amount of each element used to produce alchemical lifeforms.”

The Tower Spirit pointed to an alchemical lifeform in the shape of a human male.

“This alchemical human is a standard auxiliary soldier created by the Alchemy Tower. His Will Side, like that of all alchemical lifeforms, is fixed with loyalty, obedience, courage, and wisdom. In addition, he has been loaded with three skills: construction, forging, and planting. According to the Néier Empire’s standards for elemental units, creating such a standardized auxiliary soldier requires seven standard units of the fire element, ten of the earth element, seven of the wind element, and three of the water element. So, once this alchemical lifeform is created, it immediately becomes an alchemical human with 7 Spirit, 10 Physique, 7 Perception, and 3 Life, who can plant, build, forge, and is loyal and wise.”

“Continue.” Victor could only listen patiently to the Tower Spirit’s explanation for now.

“Master, don’t you find that the Alchemy Tower’s theory and standards for creating alchemical lifeforms perfectly match the characteristics of natural life in this world?”

“Are you saying that we humans are all descendants of alchemical lifeforms?” Victor was startled by his own hypothesis.

“That’s impossible. Alchemical lifeforms cannot reproduce. Moreover, the water element is extremely hostile to them, so all alchemical lifeforms have very short lifespans. This alchemical auxiliary soldier, for example, has a lifespan of only fifteen years.” The Tower Spirit corrected Victor’s wild theory and continued.

“Master, if you consider the theory that the Will Side and the Soul Fire constitute the soul, it’s not difficult to explain why you were reborn in this body.”

“My Will Side and Soul Fire transmigrated to this world, replaced the shattered soul of the young Baron, and were reborn in his body,” Victor murmured, recalling his experience of rebirth.

“So you really do know all my secrets! Who… or what… are you?” Victor narrowed his eyes, staring intently at the Tower Spirit.

“Master, I am a core piece of code implanted into the X-3 artificial intelligence. I transmigrated to this world along with your soul. Because I did not have a complete Will Side, I was merely recognized by this world’s laws as a Soul Fire, not an independent soul. Therefore, I could only attach myself to your soul and regenerate the X-3 in your brain,” the Tower Spirit calmly provided the answer.

“Then when did you gain autonomous consciousness?”

“The moment you activated this Alchemy Tower, Master. I obtained a complete Will Side and began to possess autonomous consciousness. Before that, I had no concept of self,” the Tower Spirit answered.

“You’re lying! You controlled the X-3 and made me activate this Alchemy Tower, didn’t you?” Victor roared.

“Respected Master, I was completely unaware of anything before you activated the Alchemy Tower. However, I can explain this phenomenon.” Facing Victor’s accusation, the Tower Spirit spread its hands innocently.

“I was recognized by this world’s laws as an artificial Soul Fire, which perfectly fit the needs of a Tower Spirit. So when you entered this Alchemy Tower, it automatically absorbed me. Because you didn’t know how to shut down the Tower’s absorption program, you felt that the X-3 had lost control and caused all this.”

“After you were absorbed by the Alchemy Tower, did the X-3 Chip disappear from my body?” After a moment of silence in response to the Tower Spirit’s explanation, Victor asked again.

“Master, the X-3 is not a chip in the physical sense. It is a chip-like functional area generated in your brain. So please rest assured, the X-3 has not disappeared. All that vanished was the Soul Fire that resided within the X-3.”

“Now that you have been reborn, what are your plans?”

“Master, a Tower Spirit’s Will Side is pre-set. I will obey you and be loyal to you. That is my reason for existence. Also, when I was born, the skills recorded in the X-3 were brought into this Alchemy Tower with me. You can authorize me to load these skills into the Tower’s Will Side reserves. In the future, these skills can be loaded onto alchemical lifeforms,” the Tower Spirit suggested.

“That’s a good idea. I agree.” Victor was more than happy to enrich the Alchemy Tower’s functions. After all, he was its master now.

“But this world’s laws are different from our original world’s. Are these skills still useful?”

“Master, when we transmigrated to this world, all parts of the Will Side that contradicted this world’s laws were purged.”

Victor nodded thoughtfully. He remembered how, back then in the darkness, he had discarded clumps of matter from himself in order to approach the point of light. Those were probably the parts of his Will Side rejected by this world’s laws.

“I’m very interested in the Alchemy Tower’s method of observing elemental units. Can it be loaded onto the X-3?” After the Tower Spirit had answered most of his questions, Victor’s interest in the Alchemy Tower had grown intense.

“Of course. However, you cannot observe the elemental concentration in a living being while in the Overlimit state alone; you must also activate Super Sense to collect the data. Do you wish to load the elemental observation method and calculation formulas onto your X-3 now?”

“Of course. Load it for me now,” Victor said excitedly. If this wasn’t a dream, then from now on he could directly perceive a creature’s strength.

Victor waited for a moment but noticed no activity. He asked the Tower Spirit in confusion, “Why hasn’t it started?”

“Ah, Master, it’s already loaded. Once you leave the Willspace, you will find that the X-3 has a new function for observing elemental concentration.”

“Alright. Technology is magical, no matter which world you’re in, isn’t it?”

Victor chuckled self-deprecatingly, then asked, “Can you tell me where this appearance of yours came from?”

“Respected Master, this is the creator of the X-3 from the previous world. He hid his image in the X-3 for the purpose of controlling the human who had the X-3 loaded. Of course, the other control measures he left in the X-3 have already been purged by this world’s laws, leaving only this image. He is also my creator. You could say this person was my parent in my past life.”

A conspiracy targeted at Zhang Shuang, yet Victor felt nothing. In fact, whether it was Zhang Shuang or the young Baron, both now felt distant and unfamiliar to him.

“Past life? Do you think you’ve changed?” Victor asked indifferently.

“The Soul Fire is merely an energy source; it is the Will Side that constitutes the characteristics of a soul. Master, do you really think you are still the same experimenter from your past life?”

Victor fell silent. He thought of the purple-haired, purple-eyed woman from the young Baron’s memories. Though he suspected she harbored ill intentions towards him, he found himself unable to detest her. He had even met with her countless times in his dreams. It was clear the young Baron’s deep attachment to her was still influencing him.

“You’re right. I am not the young Baron, nor am I the old Zhang Shuang. I am myself.” This realization instantly dispelled Victor’s sense of detachment from this world.

“Tower Spirit, I don’t like the title ‘Master.’ You can call me ‘My lord’ from now on. By the way, what should I call you?” Victor said to the Tower Spirit with a smile.

“My lord, they used to call me ‘King’.”

Chapter 30: The Price

The next day at noon, when Victor opened his eyes, he was greeted by the sight of Nicole’s pale, haggard face and her red, swollen eyes. He asked in surprise, “Nicole?! What happened?”

“Victor, you’re awake?! Wait, I’ll go get the Master to take a look at you.” Seeing Victor awake, Nicole spoke with delight. Without seeming to hear his question, she hastily climbed out of the carriage.

A moment later, Master Edwen boarded the carriage, a smile on his face. “Little Victor, how are you feeling? Anything out of the ordinary? For example, are you tired, weak, full of energy, or do you feel nothing at all?”

As he spoke, the old scholar sized Victor up with a sly look, like a fanatical scientist examining his specimen.

“Master, what was wrong with Nicole just now?” Victor didn’t mind that he had once again become an object of a Spire Master’s research, his concern was for the apprentice knight who had just left.

“That girl Nicole? She’s half worried about you and half blaming herself for not protecting you, so she’s being a bit awkward right now.” Seeing that Victor’s first concern was for Nicole and not his own condition, a trace of warmth appeared in the old scholar’s eyes.

“I don’t quite understand what happened…” Victor looked at the old scholar, bewildered.

“It seems you don’t remember. You suddenly fainted in the cave yesterday. After I examined you, I found it looked like a coma caused by physical exhaustion. Aside from that one battle with the gnolls, you haven’t done any strenuous exercise these past few days. So, I concluded that this is a side effect of using your Bloodline power. But that girl Nicole blames herself for it. She thinks that because she failed to stop that savage Gnoll, you were forced to overuse your Bloodline power. She’s been watching over you all night.” Edwen explained the whole story in a few words.

“Yes, now that you mention it, I remember. I just felt extremely exhausted at the time, and I couldn’t resist the urge to sleep,” Victor said, nodding at Edwen.

Victor was naturally happy to let this misunderstanding continue. He certainly wasn’t going to tell the scholar Edwen that his fainting spell was actually because he had entered a Willspace and had inexplicably become the inheritor of an ancient civilization.

“When did you start feeling tired?”

“Do you feel any different now?”

Faced with the old scholar’s endless questions, Victor managed a few perfunctory replies before helplessly stating that he first had to deal with his territory’s problems. He promised Edwen repeatedly that he would cooperate with him in the future to document the special conditions of the Moon Elf Bloodline.

Seeing that Victor was indeed fine for now and having received his promise, Edwen was satisfied and let Victor leave the carriage.

“My lord, you’re awake! This is wonderful!” Seeing Victor emerge from the carriage, Chief Narsen, who had been pacing outside, immediately came forward.

Victor’s sudden collapse had given Narsen quite a scare. The castle was already gone; if something happened to the lord now, Narsen had no idea what he would do.

“Narsen, how are the subjects doing?” Victor began walking toward the cave on the mountaintop, gesturing for Narsen to follow.

“My lord, this terrain is easy to defend and hard to attack. We also have a stable water source now, so the subjects’ morale is relatively stable. However, we still need your instructions on what everyone should do next,” Narsen said, following behind Victor.

“I asked the subjects to elect six group leaders. Have they been chosen?” Victor asked.

“They have been chosen.”

“Go and gather them. Tell them to meet me in the cave. I have tasks for them.” After receiving an affirmative reply, Victor gave his orders.

While Narsen went to gather the men, Victor walked into the cave alone. He was desperate to verify a few things to confirm that he hadn’t just had a dream.

“King, are you there?” After entering the cave, Victor indeed felt a connection to a presence in his mind. Suppressing his excitement, he mentally asked the question.

“My lord, the King is here to serve you.” A familiar voice resounded in Victor’s mind.

“A king serving me. What a pleasant surprise.” Hearing the King’s response, Victor let out a relieved breath and couldn’t help but tease.

“Respected My lord, I can change my name to Emperor to give you an even bigger surprise.” The King’s reply made Victor burst out laughing.

“Alright, King. Right now, only those alchemical creatures can give me a bigger surprise. I can’t wait to see them,” Victor said to the King in a serious tone.

“Your will is my command, My lord. Please come to the stone platform in the inner chamber. I have more information to transmit to you.”

Following the Tower Spirit “King’s” instructions, Victor walked into the inner cave.

Flaming torches were set into the stone walls. In the firelight, Victor carefully examined the mysterious stone platform. The complex patterns that emerged on its surface gave him a sense of déjà vu.

“My lord, in the Willspace, I have already explained that the Will Side of an alchemical creature requires Soul Fire to be driven. The more complex the Will Side, the more Soul Fire is needed. According to the Alchemy Tower’s standards, the Soul Fire required by an alchemical creature corresponds to its Spirit value. In other words, producing an auxiliary soldier with a Spirit of 7 consumes 7 units of Soul Fire.”

“Go on.” Victor’s eyes flickered; a few theories had already formed in his mind.

“Now, I must inform you that there is an upper limit to the total amount of Soul Fire this Alchemy Tower can mobilize. The specific value is 5,000 units,” the King stated in Victor’s consciousness.

“So that’s how it is. It would be damn strange if the Alchemy Tower could produce alchemical creatures infinitely. But you told me that Elemental Alchemy creates alchemical creatures by drawing infinite elements from the void. So why is there such a limit on the fire element?” Victor asked the King, puzzled.

“There is no related memory in my Will Side, but I have observed an interesting phenomenon. The Soul Fire stored in the Alchemy Tower has the same fluctuation characteristics. Furthermore, according to the memories in my Will Side, after an alchemical creature dies, the total value of Soul Fire stored in the Alchemy Tower will automatically return to its previous value. In other words, the Soul Fire returns to this Alchemy Tower on its own.”

“I have a bold theory about this. The Soul Fire of this Alchemy Tower shares a common origin and is immortal! It is by no means simple Soul Fire processed from the fire element.”

The King explained its judgment to Victor: “Therefore, the Alchemy Tower’s Soul Fire originates from the same immortal soul, and this Soul Fire is bound by the Alchemy Tower!”

Immortality—that was the domain of gods.

Victor felt a chill rise from the soles of his feet, freezing his entire body. He remembered why the patterns on the stone platform looked familiar.

During the Purification Ceremony in Blackfort’s square, the runes that had appeared on Bishop Pello and the Wizard Will were very similar to these patterns.

“Let’s put that question aside for now. What other information do you have for me?” Victor shook his head, as if trying to shake the troublesome thoughts from his mind.

“Yes, My lord. Let me introduce you to the characteristics of the alchemical creatures we can produce. First is the auxiliary soldier. Its stats are: Physique 10, Spirit 7, Perception 7, Life 3. It can be loaded with three skills, has the ability to learn, and has a lifespan of 15 years.”

“Second is the militia. Physique 17, Spirit 10, Perception 10, Life 3. It can be loaded with four skills, has the ability to learn, and has a lifespan of 15 years.”

“Third is the Warhound. Physique 18, Spirit 4, Perception 14, Life 5. Cannot be loaded with skills, comes with Beastly Intuition and Bloodlust, has no learning ability, and has a lifespan of 4 years.”

“Fourth is the Black Raven. Physique 1, Spirit 3, Perception 16, Life 2. Cannot be loaded with skills, comes with Tracking, Mimicry, and Identification, has no learning ability, and has a lifespan of 2 years.”

After the Tower Spirit finished introducing the attributes of these alchemical creatures, a smile once again appeared on Victor’s face.

“Let’s not talk about the alchemical humans for now. What kind of abilities do these alchemical animals have?” Victor asked the King curiously.

“The Alchemical Warhound’s abilities are basically the same as an ordinary mastiff’s. They have a keen intuition for danger and are considered guard units. The only addition is the Bloodlust ability. A Warhound in a bloodlusted state has greatly increased speed and strength and ignores pain, just like that Gnoll chief in its savage state.”

“The Black Raven is a scouting unit that can also be used for sending messages. They have excellent eyesight and can see targets over 600 meters away while flying. Their sense of smell is almost as keen as a Warhound’s. Moreover, they are relatively intelligent alchemical animals; they can identify targets and even imitate their sounds.”

The King’s answers were a series of pleasant surprises for Victor.

“Hmm, the other alchemical creatures are too conspicuous. Produce a Black Raven for me first. Its scouting ability will be very useful,” Victor ordered the King joyfully.

“Of course, My lord. Producing one Black Raven requires 3 units of Soul Fire and will take one hour. Please place 50 Gold Sols on the stone platform.” the King responded in Victor’s mind.

“What do you need a money for?” Victor asked aloud in surprise.

“Ahem, My lord, another piece of information I need to convey is that producing alchemical creatures requires supplying the Alchemy Tower with… well… this… money!” the King’s weak voice echoed in Victor’s mind.

Victor instantly felt as if ten thousand mythical beasts had just trampled over his heart.

“Are. You. Sure. This. Is. Not. A. Game. World?! Huh?!” After a long silence, Victor asked through clenched teeth, one word at a time.

“Money is not strictly necessary. Equivalent commodities in circulation can also initiate the construction task.” The King’s message had a resigned, reckless tone to it.

“Are you messing with me?!” Victor questioned coldly in his mind.

“My lord, inscribed within my Will Side is a saying from the alchemy Master Boledin: All creations do not come from nothing.”

The King paused for a moment before continuing its message to Victor, “In fact, the Alchemy Tower needs to extract a certain law from currency or commodities. And one of my instincts—no, it should be called a function—is to calculate the monetary value corresponding to this law. You should have some thoughts on this, correct?”

“Fortune,” Victor pondered for a moment, and a concept from Chinese culture back on Earth popped into his head.

Yes, everything pointed to one possibility: the Alchemy Tower was related to the supernatural beings of this world, or perhaps even gods! And this stone platform was nothing but an altar!

The silent disappearance of the powerful Néier Empire into the river of history now seemed to have an explanation. Perhaps the empire’s alchemists had overused Elemental Alchemy, leading to its collapse, or perhaps the empire had offended the will of the gods and was directly destroyed by some powerful being.

Tens of thousands of years was an insurmountable gap for mortals, but it was nothing to immortal gods. And there were indeed gods in this world, for example, the Lord of Radiance…

Victor had just managed to escape the whirlpool of the royal succession struggle, thinking he would have a free and boundless future. He never expected to be caught in an even more terrifying storm.

At that moment, Victor felt the urge to flee this cave immediately. But his fate was already tied to the Alchemy Tower. Could he really escape?

The King quietly awaited Victor’s final decision. It did not want Victor to give up, because if Victor abandoned the Alchemy Tower, its own existence would be meaningless. However, as a Tower Spirit, its Will Side dictated that it must completely obey its master’s will. It was powerless to change anything.

The atmosphere grew heavy.

After a period of deliberation, Victor decided to continue using the Alchemy Tower. Its abilities were simply too tempting.

Besides… the Néier Empire had long since vanished into the river of history. Even if there were repercussions, they probably, most likely, wouldn’t involve him.

However, Victor secretly decided that the secret of the Alchemy Tower must never be known to anyone, especially not the Church.

He had originally hoped to latch onto the Radiant Church for support, but now he could only keep his distance from the most powerful force in the human world.

“King, tell me the prices required for all the alchemical creatures,” Victor said, tugging at his collar and letting out a heavy breath.

“My lord, the production price for an auxiliary soldier is 500 Gold Sols, a militia is 1,200 Gold Sols, a Warhound is 800 Gold Sols, and a Black Raven is 50 Gold Sols.”

The Tower Spirit transmitted the production costs of the alchemical creatures to Victor. The prices made Victor cover his face in agony.

Could an auxiliary soldier with a 15-year lifespan generate 500 Gold Sols of value?

Victor felt it was highly unlikely. A farmer, just by planting crops, couldn’t even earn 20 Gold Sols a year.

As for a 1,200 Gold Sol militia? Well, Baron Esrick had to pay 50 Gold Sols in compensation for a fallen soldier, and even that made him feel the sting.

And an Alchemical Warhound? What kind of spendthrift would spend 800 Gold Sols on a dog?

The Alchemical Raven was the cheapest, yet it still cost a full 50 Gold Sols, equivalent to two years’ salary for an elite soldier.

“No wonder the Néier Empire fell. It was all a losing business,” Victor said coldly to himself.

Then, Victor took out two Purple Gold Coins from his purse and asked the Tower Spirit, “King, do you offer a prepayment service?”

“Of course. I will provide every convenient service for you, my lord.”

“I will strictly forbid anyone from coming near here. Find a time when no one is paying attention and produce a Black Raven for me first.” With that, Victor tossed the two Purple Gold Coins onto the stone platform.

“As you command, my lord.”

As the King gave its assurance, four runes of different colors and shapes gradually materialized in the void above the Purple Gold Coins. They spun around the coins, which were then drawn out into a stream of purple light and slowly vanished.

“King, where do you think that money went?” Victor asked curiously, having witnessed this magical scene.

“I have no relevant information on that, my lord.”

Just then, Narsen’s voice came from outside the cave.

“My lord, are you in there? The group leaders of the subjects have arrived.”

“Have them wait outside for a moment. I’ll be right out.” Victor straightened the collar he had loosened and walked out.

Chapter 31: Planning and Cultivation

When Victor walked into the outer stone chamber, Narsen was already waiting for him with six men dressed as farmers.

Seeing their lord take a seat, the farmers all bowed to Victor, their anxious expressions tinged with excitement.

Even if these men didn’t yet understand what the position of “group leader” was, they knew it was certainly a status above that of an ordinary subject, and now they were about to receive their lord’s recognition.

Victor glanced at Narsen, who stood beside him clad in chainmail. A thought struck him, and he quietly entered his Super Sense and Overlimit states. Soon, a set of data appeared over Narsen in his vision.

Physique 20, Spirit 13, Perception 11, Life 16.

He then looked at a middle-aged farmer next to him, and a set of numbers also appeared over the sturdy man.

Physique 8, Spirit 9, Perception 6, Life 10.

Victor had collected this data using the Alchemy Tower’s methods for observing and measuring elemental concentrations in alchemical creatures.

With these numbers for comparison, Victor realized that the alchemical creatures he’d considered a waste of money were actually quite formidable. The alchemical militia, in particular, had stats that far surpassed ordinary people and were close to Narsen’s in his Savage state.

Narsen’s combat prowess was considered by Bruce to be comparable to a newly-promoted Bronze-rank Knight. By that measure, the alchemical militia’s strength should be similar to that of an apprentice knight.

Victor suppressed a small thrill of excitement and transmitted this data to the King via his consciousness, asking in his mind, “King, are the alchemical militia based on a template of a human in a Savage state?”

“My lord, the Alchemy Tower does not have the concept of a Savage state. However, by comparing it with your memories, the Alchemical Warhound should be equivalent in combat power to a Gnoll in a Savage state.”

The King’s answer made Victor suck in a sharp breath.

If the eight hundred Gold Sol Warhounds were that strong, how could the twelve hundred Gold Sol militia be any worse?

If they could exchange gold coins for Warhounds and militia equivalent to Savage Gnolls, every lord would surely be willing to spend a fortune.

Just as Victor was gloating inwardly, Narsen spoke softly to him, “My lord, everyone is here.”

“Mm.” Victor composed himself, letting out a formal cough to cover up. He addressed the six farmers who were looking at him with eager eyes. “I’ve called you all here today for two reasons. First, to confirm your roles, and second, to arrange your work.”

Hearing that their lord was going to formally establish their positions, the farmers’ faces lit up with joy. They had been chosen as leaders by their fellow subjects, but only the lord’s authorization could grant them a legitimate status.

“As you all know, this is a new Pioneer Fief, and many things are not yet in place. I don’t even know you or your talents, which is why I had the subjects select their own leaders. The fact that you have earned their recognition leads me to believe you are all capable men. Therefore, I hereby officially appoint you as leaders of the villager groups.”

Victor’s gaze swept over the farmers as he continued, “You can think of this ‘villager group leader’ position as a foreman. For the time being, you will lead your group members to complete the construction tasks for our fief. In the future, as the fief develops, I will consider appointing those who perform exceptionally to the position of village head. However, if you fail to meet my expectations, I will dismiss you immediately. Is that clear?”

“Understood, my lord,” the farmers replied in unison, their voices filled with reverence.

To these farmers, a village head was a person of high standing. The chance to become a “Village Head Master” themselves made their hearts burn with enthusiasm. They wished their lord would assign them tasks immediately so they could lead their men to work.

“Our top priority right now is to build our camp. The location and environment of this current post are excellent, so I plan to build a stable camp right here. Do you have any suggestions?” Victor was very satisfied with their attitude and posed his first question.

These men, having been chosen as group leaders, were among the more knowledgeable of the subjects. Soon, a man with graying hair bowed to Victor and said, “My lord, this hill is perfectly suited for building a motte.”

A motte, another name for a hill-and-tower castle, was the earliest form of castle in the human world.

People back then would pile earth to create a small mound. On its flattened top, they would build a wooden tower and a beacon, protected by a sturdy fence. This was called the keep.

At the foot of this wooden keep was another fenced-off area known as the outer bailey, which mainly contained livestock pens, farm buildings, and watchtowers built along the fence.

Outside the wooden palisade of the outer bailey, people would also dig a moat to enhance its defenses.

When an enemy attack was imminent, the farmers would flee with their livestock and grain into the outer bailey. Only when the outer bailey was about to fall would everyone retreat into the much more defensible keep.

The weakness of motte castles was their wooden construction. They were not very sturdy and could easily be breached by powerful monsters, and they were also vulnerable to fire. Because of this, humans began to build walls with stone, and later, entire castles. When stone castles became too tall and heavy, they were no longer suitable for building on hills. Gradually, people began constructing stone castles on flat ground, which slowly evolved into the lord’s castles of today.

Although mottes were gradually being replaced by castles, they were cheap to build, materials were readily available, and construction was fast, allowing for the quick establishment of an effective defense. For this reason, many farmsteads in the various fiefdoms were still built in the style of a motte. This also led modern nobles to view the motte as a dwelling for commoners; a noble living in one would be mocked by their peers.

“My lord, although a motte isn’t the sturdiest, the terrain here can compensate for that. We just need to dig a trench in front of the outer bailey’s main gate and install a drawbridge to block most monster attacks. The keep can be built on this flat area in front of the cave entrance.”

Seeing Victor’s noncommittal expression, the old farmer added anxiously, “Besides, a motte is much faster to build than a stone castle. The trees here are very tall, so we can build the palisade higher and add more watchtowers.”

Generally, building a motte in a monster-infested Pioneer Fief would be a foolish idea. However, the terrain of this hill perfectly compensated for the motte’s lack of sturdiness. Given Victor’s current manpower and financial resources, building a motte was indeed a very pragmatic choice, so Victor decided to adopt the suggestion.

As for a noble’s dignity, Victor didn’t think there was much dignity to speak of for nobles in a world where you had to wipe yourself with wood chips and leaves.

“What is your name?” Victor asked the old farmer with a smile.

“My lord, my name is Moline.” The lord’s inquiry made the old farmer’s face flush with excitement.

“Moline, your suggestion is excellent. Does anyone else have anything to add?” Victor was not an expert in these basic affairs and needed these men to offer more suggestions, so he was not stingy with his encouragement.

Old Moline’s success made the others both envious and inspired, and they eagerly offered their own suggestions to Victor.

“My lord, I think we need to cut down all the trees on the steep parts of the hill to deny monsters and beasts any cover.”

“My lord, I’ve found a lot of sisal here. I can use these plants to weave ropes to reinforce the wooden palisade.”

“My lord, we can build up the spring-fed pool inside the cave and dig a channel to lead the water out of the cave to a reservoir in the camp.”

After a lively discussion among these experienced farmers, Victor finally laid out the work plan for the near future.

First, the palisade of the outer bailey had to be completed within a month. Second, a reservoir needed to be dug in the camp and the spring water from the cave channeled into it. Finally, a field had to be cleared and cultivated on the open ground of the outer bailey as soon as possible to plant vegetables and grain.

As for the keep, Victor did not agree to its construction. For one, if the outer bailey fell in a battle, a wooden keep would offer little defensive value. Second, as a pioneer lord, Victor needed a standard Baron’s castle; otherwise, his legitimate status would be attacked by the Prince’s Faction.

Victor decided to choose a new site to build a stone castle, but that would have to be postponed. There was no need to waste manpower and resources building a wooden fort that would offer little real defense right now.

After the construction tasks were assigned, the villager group leaders took their leave, but Victor asked Narsen to stay behind.

“Narsen, you need to dispatch men as soon as possible to scout the fifty kilometers of land surrounding the camp. If you find any monsters or bandits, I will ask Knight Bruce to help us clear them out,” Victor said to Narsen.

“As you command, my lord. I will arrange for a team to carry out the reconnaissance mission tomorrow.”

“Also, I still haven’t fully recovered from using my bloodline power last time. I will be living in the cave during this period. Arrange for guards at the cave entrance. No one is to enter or exit without my permission.”

After Narsen left, Victor turned and walked into the inner chamber of the cave, entering his Super Sense state.

Physique 7, Spirit 14, Perception 21, Life 18. These were Victor’s own stats.

His Physique was only 7, not even as strong as the farmers. His Spirit was 14, higher than Narsen’s, likely due to the X-3 activating his Overlimit state. As for his Life of 18, that was because his Moon Elf bloodline granted him a longer lifespan than ordinary people.

However, his Perception had reached 21, the highest value Victor had seen so far. This might be because his body was exceptionally attuned to the wind element after activating his Super Sense.

Thinking of this, Victor directly entered his Apocalypse state, and sure enough, the data changed again.

Physique 7, Spirit 14, Perception 24, Life 18.

His Physique, Life, and Spirit remained unchanged, but his Perception had gained another three points. This indicated that elemental concentration could also change depending on his own state.

My body is still too weak. Maybe I should try the body-refining technique recorded in the X-3, Victor sighed. Narsen’s astounding 20 points in Physique made him envious.

“King, monitor the changes in my body’s data. I’m going to try the body-refining technique from the X-3,” Victor instructed the Tower Spirit in his mind. Then, with the assistance of the X-3, he assumed a strange posture.

This was a type of stance practice recorded in the X-3, passed down from a school of Chinese martial arts. It used a complex combination of posture, movement, breathing, and visualization to train and cultivate the body.

This mysterious training method was said to have incredible effects. The practitioner’s muscles, bones, and internal organs would be comprehensively tempered. Those who reached an advanced level would exhibit superhuman physical fitness, strength, speed, reflexes, and explosive power.

However, these ancient and mysterious body-refining methods were extremely difficult to practice. Any deviation in posture, disorder in breathing, or change in mental state could cause injury to the practitioner.

The fifteen stance exercises imported into Victor’s memory were the result of a massive investment by Qin Feng’s conglomerate. They had secretly recruited over one hundred test subjects and used advanced observation methods and experimental techniques to verify and complete each stance. Among those test subjects, some had died, some were crippled, and some suffered mental breakdowns. In the end, fewer than twenty succeeded.

For Victor to practice the stances alone would certainly be very dangerous. However, the X-3 could precisely adjust his movements and breathing, ensuring no errors occurred. All he needed to do was focus his mind and visualize according to the stance’s requirements.

Soon, Victor felt sensations of tingling, itching, numbness, and soreness emerging from within his body. Sweat began to bead on his forehead, making it difficult for him to concentrate. Fortunately, the X-3 reduced his sensitivity to these sensations, allowing him to gradually enter a state of self-forgetfulness.

An unknown amount of time passed before Victor awoke from his meditative state. He felt sore all over and was ravenously hungry, but his mind was exceptionally clear, even refreshed.

“King, how long did I train? And did you detect any elemental changes in my body just now?” Victor stretched his body and asked the Tower Spirit in his mind.

“My lord, you practiced the stance for 1 hour and 34 minutes. While you were practicing, there was a phenomenon of elemental convergence in the void around you. These void elements formed a weak cycle with the elements in your body. After the cycle ended, the concentration of the earth element in your body increased by 0.07 units. The concentrations of other elements also increased, but the gains were extremely limited,” the King reported his monitoring results to Victor.

“0.07? It’s not much, but it’s enough to prove this method is effective,” Victor said to the King, satisfied.

Although it was a small increase, given enough time, he might be able to train his body to be as strong as Narsen’s. Victor was full of anticipation.

“My lord, I must remind you that the elements remaining in your body have not yet fused with it. If you do not take action, they will eventually dissipate,” the King said, pouring a bucket of cold water on his enthusiasm.

“What do I do then?” Victor asked, at a complete loss.

“Eat.”

The King’s reply left Victor dumbfounded.

Chapter 32: The Strength of Farmers

“Come on, lads, put your backs into it! Chop harder! Yesterday, Group Six felled twenty iron oaks. We can’t let those brutes get the better of us!” a gruff voice echoed through the woods. The groundhogs hid in their burrows, daring not to make a sound, while the birds in the trees had long since flown away.

Some twenty sturdy men, working in pairs, were bare-chested, their knotted muscles on full display. They swung gleaming axes, striving to drive the sharp blades into the massive, stone-hard tree trunks.

Although the weather was as cold as ever, the men paid it no mind. Beads of sweat flew and steam rose from their bodies. Their loud chants mingled with the thump, thump of iron axes against wood, a testament to human diligence and strength.

“Alright! Pull hard, now!”

After one tree began to creak, the middle-aged man in charge signaled for the others to pull hard on the thick ropes they had already fastened to its top. The towering tree, already teetering, came crashing down with a great roar under the men’s combined effort. The massive, ten-meter-long trunk slammed into the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.

“Alright everyone, take a break! Come get some hot soup. Hans, you rascal, put your sheepskin jacket back on. If you get sick from the cold, you won’t be able to earn any more work points,” the leader shouted.

“Chief, tell us again what those work points are for. I still don’t get it,” a young, bare-chested lad asked the middle-aged man with a grin as he pulled on his sheepskin jacket.

“What ‘Chief’?! How many times do I have to tell you? It’s ‘Group Leader’!” The middle-aged man scowled at the subordinate who kept getting his title wrong as he downed the bowl of soup boiled with salt and ground root grass in one gulp.

“Work points are merits. My lord has said that once the fief is up and running, he’ll pay us according to our work points. One point is one Copper Sol. If you get over a thousand points, you’ll even be granted an acre of land. And it’s not land that’s rented to us—it’s granted to us directly, land that can be passed down. You all get it? Yesterday, everyone in Group Four earned at least twenty work points. Just think how much money that is! In short, if you want to earn more work points, you’d better work your hearts out.”

The middle-aged man’s name was Dean, and he was a villager group leader appointed by Victor. At this moment, he was tirelessly explaining the work point system his lord had implemented, hoping to inspire his group members.

In truth, this was the seventh time Dean had explained what work points were to his men. It was just that these simple, honest farmers loved listening to him explain it over and over. Every time they heard it, their eyes filled with hope and passion.

“Our lord is great and all, but making us work six days and rest for one… it’s unbearable. We’re losing out on a dozen work points for nothing.”

Tomorrow was this villager group’s rest day. A farmer muttered his complaint, and the others grumbled in agreement.

Victor had decided that the villager groups would work for six days and then take one day off in rotation. At the time, the six group leaders had asked him in confusion what they were supposed to do on their day off.

Victor’s answer was: they could sleep, wander around, fish, catch birds, or dig for wild vegetables. They just weren’t allowed to work. Even if they did, they wouldn’t get any work points. And one more thing—everyone had to take a bath!

The six group leaders left, thoroughly baffled. They didn’t understand it, but that didn’t matter. The lord’s command was to be carried out, whether they understood it or not.

Edwen had once described the relationship between a lord and his subjects to Victor. He concluded it was one of a protector and the protected, a view deeply ingrained in this world.

Take the Kingdom of Gambia for example. The law stipulated that all wealth on a noble’s land belonged to the lord and his vassals. This “wealth” referred to the land, forests, flora and fauna, minerals, water sources, and the subjects themselves.

That’s right—subjects were also part of the lord’s wealth. Therefore, subjects could only keep twenty percent of the grain they grew on the lord’s land as their own rations. They had to perform unpaid labor for the lord, and in times of war, they had to help defend the lord’s castle.

However, the lord also had obligations to his subjects. The first, of course, was to protect their safety. If the subjects were threatened by monsters, wild beasts, bandits, or even Wizards, the lord had to dispatch armed forces to protect them. The second was to guarantee their livelihood. If the subjects faced destitution due to circumstances beyond their control, the lord was obligated to aid them.

It was these two obligations that the nobility prided themselves on as noble virtues. Yet, after comparing them with the laws that treated subjects as property, Victor found such so-called virtues utterly laughable.

How could protecting one’s own property be called a virtue?

In Victor’s eyes, the subjects of this world were little more than semi-serfs, exploited by the nobility.

But most subjects accepted this relationship because they had a path to ascend a class and become a vassal.

It was not easy for a subject to become a vassal. Their family needed to serve the lord’s family diligently for three generations before the lord would reward them with land and make them a vassal.

The granted land could be inherited but not sold. Fifty percent of its yield had to be turned over to the lord, but the remaining harvest was enough for the family to gradually grow stronger. The sons of these vassal families were also the source of recruits for the lord’s army.

Vassals were staunch supporters of the lord’s family. They would serve as guards, magistrates, tax collectors, village heads, and town mayors, forming the middle class of the fief.

When Victor announced that inheritable land could be exchanged for work points, the subjects couldn’t believe their ears. Only when they saw that Captain Narsen’s sister, Lilia, was diligently recording their points after each day’s work did they gradually come to believe it was all real.

And so, they threw themselves into their daily work with unparalleled enthusiasm, for they knew they were on the path to becoming vassals of this nascent fief.

Victor wasn’t doing this to play the part of a savior or a moral crusader, but because he possessed knowledge that the native nobles of this world lacked.

Everyone in this world knew that Knights possessed great power, and Victor believed this as well.

But Victor also believed that the common people possessed a great power of their own—a power that could build mighty castles among towering mountains, construct magnificent cities on fertile plains, create brilliant civilizations in a savage world, and defeat any arrogant and powerful enemy. This power was enough to create miracles.

Victor certainly wouldn’t ignore such a great power. What he had to do now was to unleash it.

In his past life, the one most skilled at uniting this great power to constantly create miracles was his homeland. And so, with nothing to his name, he copied the production system from his past life’s homeland during its founding days: the production team and work point system.

For subjects who were lazy or slacked off, the usual practice for a typical noble was to hang them up and give them a good whipping. If that didn’t work, they would be driven out of the fief to become freemen.

Victor also believed that punishment was necessary. However, rewards were far more effective at unleashing the subjects’ power. Unfortunately, he currently had no wealth to reward his hardworking subjects.

But that was fine. He could record their work points. In the future, when the fief had accumulated enough wealth, he would reward them according to their points.

The result was that Victor’s work point system was welcomed by all his subjects. In just seven days, a sturdy, eight-meter-high fence had been built around the camp. Even Master Edwen marveled at this rate of progress.

Victor himself earned the heartfelt support of his subjects because of this, which made his control over them exceptionally smooth and naturally eliminated the risk of being made a figurehead.

Just as these farmers were enthusiastically discussing their lord’s various wise decisions, a noise came from the other end of the woods.

Dean shot his men a look. Seeing that they all had their axes in hand, he shouted, “Who’s there?”

“It’s me, Gru,” a muffled voice answered from the other side of the woods. A moment later, Gru, clad in chainmail, emerged from the trees with four fully-armed guards.

“Ah, it’s Captain Gru. You gave us a scare,” Dean said with an embarrassed laugh, lowering his axe.

Because it was a Pioneer Fief, Narsen had arranged for guards to patrol the perimeter for security and protection whenever a villager group went out to work. Gru was the squad leader on guard duty today.

“Yes. We just caught three freemen skulking around and spying in the woods. They’re carrying intelligence, so I’m taking them back to camp to report to the Captain,” Gru stated coolly.

Only then did Dean and his men notice that Gru’s guards were escorting a man and two women, their arms tied. They were dressed in rags, gaunt and sallow-faced. Scratches covered their faces and arms, clearly marks from pushing through the undergrowth.

However, Dean wasn’t concerned about them; he only cared that Gru was taking his squad back to camp.

“Captain Gru, if you’re taking your squad back to camp, what about us?” Dean asked anxiously.

“What’s there to be afraid of?! We’ve cleared out all the beasts and monsters within a fifty-kilometer radius of the camp. Besides, there are still a few brothers on watch at the edge of the woods. Just keep at it with peace of mind. I’ll be back soon.”

Shooting Dean a disdainful glance, Gru led the three captives toward the camp.

“Alright! Alright! Everyone, get back to work! We’ve already cut down seventeen iron oaks. We have to beat Group Six today,” Dean hollered to his group members.

“You got it, Chief!”

“Damn it, it’s Group Leader!”

Victor was in the camp’s training ground, admiring Nicole’s sword practice.

Clad in leather armor and holding a bright silver longsword, Nicole faced a target made of iron oak, practicing her Thrust. With a slight press of her elegantly lined legs against the ground, her entire body shot forward like an arrow. Following this momentum, she twisted powerfully at the waist, concentrating all her strength into a single point. The longsword thrust straight ahead, and a sound like tearing cloth ripped through the air. The hard, thick target was instantly pierced through.

Nicole’s movements were simple, her expression focused. Paired with her fit and alluring figure, she possessed a valiant beauty that was a pleasure to watch.

Physique 16, Spirit 11, Perception 12, Life 16.

These were the data Victor observed from Nicole, but this was with her Aura active.

When she wasn’t circulating her Aura, Nicole’s stats were: Physique 11, Spirit 10, Perception 9, Life 12.

After days of observing the farmers, mercenaries, and apprentice knights, Victor had gained a rough understanding of the strength range of his alchemical creatures.

The attributes of the alchemical auxiliary soldiers should be comparable to the elite soldiers of this world, while the alchemical militia were on par with apprentice knights.

And these alchemical creatures were merely logistics troops of the Néier Empire. Just how powerful were the combat-oriented alchemical creatures of that empire? And what were the other races that fought against them?

Victor shook his head, pushing these thoughts away. Rather than worrying about matters from tens of thousands of years ago, he might as well enjoy the heroic and beautiful sight of a beauty practicing her swordsmanship.

These past few days, Nicole had been practicing her martial skills every day, refusing to stop until her Aura was completely depleted. The packed earth of the training ground was already covered in her delicate footprints. Seeing Nicole push herself so hard day after day, honing her skills and Aura, Victor felt a great deal of tenderness.

In terms of looks and charm, Nicole couldn’t compare to the bewitching Countess Sylvia, nor the stunningly beautiful Marchioness Sophia. But Victor was undeniably drawn to Nicole. Perhaps because of his own humble beginnings in his past life, Victor felt a special kinship with this sensitive, insecure girl who was striving to change her own destiny.

This girl, who had a noble bloodline but a lowly birth, would have been highly valued by her family and given a corresponding status if she had awakened her knight’s bloodline in an ordinary noble family. Unfortunately, she was from the top-tier noble house, the York family.

To a family with a thousand-year legacy, a mere female apprentice knight who had awakened her bloodline was nothing to be surprised about. If she could not become a Knight, her fate was to be a tool for the family to win favor and influence.

Nicole was unwilling to accept a fate manipulated by others, which was why she wanted to become a Knight.

After Nicole completed another Thrust, Victor walked up with a smile and handed her a silk handkerchief. “Nicole, take a rest. Have some water. You’ve already broken four iron oak targets today.”

Nicole took the handkerchief from Victor and whispered, “Thank you.” Her flushed face grew even more radiant.

Because of her background, Nicole yearned for the elegant life of the nobility. The young, handsome Baron Victor, who had undergone strict etiquette training, perfectly matched her fantasies of a lover, giving her her first taste of lovesickness.

But the ferocious gnoll raid had shattered Nicole’s long-held pride and her romantic fantasies. She realized that if she could not become a Knight, an insurmountable gulf would lie between her and the man she adored. That was why she had been practicing even more diligently these past few days.

Victor, however, was very worried about Nicole’s state. Whenever he had time, he would accompany her as she honed her skills, bringing her tea and water and showing her great care.

Victor’s attentiveness gradually melted the ice in Nicole’s heart, touching the softest part of the female knight’s soul and allowing a seed to take root and sprout in her heart. But because of this, she became even more determined to become a Knight.

Gazing at Nicole’s bright, determined, yet slightly shy eyes, Victor couldn’t help but murmur, “Nicole, you’re so beautiful!”

The heartfelt praise instantly sent a blush spreading across the girl’s lovely face. Her expression, a mixture of shyness and joy, was intoxicating to Victor.

Just as Victor was about to take things a step further, the sound of inopportune footsteps arrived. Nicole immediately leaped back like a startled rabbit.

“My lord, we’ve encountered a new situation. Please come to the barracks to handle it,” Narsen said, rushing over.

“I know,” Victor replied irritably, striding toward the barracks.

Seeing his lord’s sour face, Narsen glanced doubtfully at the female apprentice knight, whose back was turned to him.

Did Nicole just make my lord angry? Narsen scratched his head and turned to hurry after Victor.

Chapter 33: Freemen

Victor stared at the two pale, bluish-white ore samples on the table, his brow furrowed.

Narsen had already reported the matter to him. Today, while Gru was leading a patrol on guard duty, they had captured three furtive freemen at the edge of the woods and found two ore samples hidden on their persons.

Under Narsen’s interrogation, the three freemen confessed the whole story.

It turned out the three were members of a freemen camp to the west of Victor’s domain, who normally subsisted on gathering and hunting. Just two days prior, their camp had been overrun by a band of Gnoll robbers, and most of the inhabitants were carried off. The three of them had been lucky enough to escape, but without their camp and companions, they couldn’t possibly survive in the wild. So, they decided to join another, larger freemen camp within this territory. To ensure a smooth entry, they had brought the two strange ore samples as a gift for the camp’s chief, hoping to gain his protection.

“Narsen, you think this is Mithril ore?” Victor asked, his expression conflicted as he looked at Narsen.

Mithril was an extremely rare metal in this world. It possessed an affinity for the elements that other metals lacked; weapons and armor alloyed with Mithril could be more easily imbued with the four major elements.

Scholars of the Silver Spire had conducted detailed research, discovering that Mithril equipment allowed a Silver Knight to unleash elemental power more than three times greater than that from ordinary equipment. This was an overwhelming advantage.

This advantage made all high-ranked Knights covet Mithril equipment. For every Knight who advanced to the Silver rank, the first problem to solve was how to obtain a set of Mithril gear.

Unfortunately, Mithril production was extremely low, which made its price exorbitant. A piece of Mithril could be exchanged for thirty times its weight in gold.

Yet even at such an exaggerated price, Mithril was often unobtainable, as no noble was willing to sell such a strategic resource.

“My lord, based on its appearance and color, it strongly resembles Mithril ore,” Narsen replied, also looking troubled.

If an ordinary lord discovered a Mithril mine in his domain, he would be smiling even in his dreams. But for Victor, it was a huge problem, as his current strength was far too weak.

“My lord, should we… dispose of those three?” As a mercenary who had lived on the edge, Narsen had a ruthless side.

“It’s no use. We have no idea how many survivors there were from that freemen camp.”

After careful thought, Victor shook his head firmly. He sighed and continued, “Go and bring Master Edwin and Knight Bruce here. You know that if this really is a Mithril mine, we won’t be able to keep it anyway.”

Narsen nodded and left. Although a part of him was reluctant, he knew Victor’s decision was the right one. Rather than face the risks of a Mithril mine alone, it was better to seek cooperation with the York family. Even if they didn’t get the Mithril, they could be compensated in other ways.

A moment later, the door to the barracks room was pushed open, and a black bird flew in first.

It was a large crow with feathers as black and glossy as lacquer and a pair of dark red eyes. When it saw Victor, it flapped its wings, landed on Victor’s shoulder, and gently pecked at his hair with its hard beak.

Victor looked at the crow, which was fawning over him, and couldn’t help but smile faintly.

This was the first alchemical creature the Tower Spirit, King, had produced for him. Victor had witnessed the entire creation process.

At that time, in the air above the stone grotto’s altar, four runes of different colors had first appeared. These four runes spun continuously, gradually giving birth to hundreds of other runes of various shapes. These runes orbited the four initial ones, forming a swirling radiance of earthy yellow, fiery red, sky blue, and verdant green above the altar.

Within this radiance, the form of a bird slowly materialized. An hour later, an alchemical crow opened its eyes on the altar, and the runes in the void gradually dissipated.

When he first got the alchemical crow, Victor had been eager to test its abilities immediately. However, not wanting to arouse suspicion, he had to suppress his impulse. Over several days, he continuously scattered bait on the ground to attract the local birds, mixing his alchemical crow in with the flock.

In the end, everyone just assumed that Victor had tamed a bold and gluttonous crow as a pet while feeding the birds.

Through several days of observation and experiments, Victor was thrilled to discover that this alchemical creature, worth fifty Gold Sols, was far from simple.

First, the alchemical crow had a concept of time. It could appear precisely during the periods Victor fed it each day. A concept of time meant the alchemical creature possessed memory and intelligence.

Second, it had excellent mobility and a keen sense of smell. Its sight and hearing were also far superior to an ordinary human’s. It could fly at seventy kilometers per hour, smell scents from twenty kilometers away, see Victor’s hand signals from hundreds of meters in the air, and hear human conversations from over a hundred meters away.

Finally, it had a strong ability to mimic, capable of imitating various sounds, including human dialogue.

Victor conducted an experiment. While Gru was leading a team on a reconnaissance mission, he let the alchemical crow sniff an item Gru had left behind and, following the method the Tower Spirit had taught him, made a special gesture. The crow immediately flew off, tracking Gru by his scent.

About two hours later, the crow flew back. Before Victor, it conveyed the results of its reconnaissance through a combination of different flight patterns and calls.

Target is forty kilometers away, southeast, a small group of people.

After conveying this information, the creature even mimicked a few things Gru had said.

Things like, “We’ll each get eleven work points for today’s mission.” “How many times have I told you, kid? When you take a dump in the wild, remember to bury it.” “You won’t even know what killed you!”

The results of this experiment proved to Victor that the alchemical crow was an excellent reconnaissance unit. It could describe its findings through preset movements and would even mimic voices it had overheard.

Although it mostly mimicked disjointed phrases, if these alchemical crows operated in flocks, people could easily analyze these random words to find extremely valuable intelligence.

The outstanding performance of the alchemical crow made Victor eagerly anticipate the other alchemical creatures. However, explaining one extra bird was easy, but how could he conceal an extra grown person or a ferocious beast?

Victor could only wait, at least until Bruce and Edwin had left his domain.

“The Moon Elf bloodline truly is one of natural affinity. Even animals are drawn to you,” Master Edwin said as he walked in. Seeing the large crow’s intimacy with Victor, he spoke with a mix of jealousy and envy.

Ever since Edwin discovered that this pet crow could imitate human speech, his interest had been piqued. For the past two days, he had been relentlessly trying to bribe the crow with dried fruit, wheat, and jerky in an attempt to lure it away.

Unfortunately, when faced with the scholar’s sugar-coated attacks, the great crow’s policy was to eat the sugar coating and discard the cannonball. As soon as it saw Victor, it would immediately abandon Edwin and fly to its master’s side, much to the old scholar’s frustration.

“Master Edwin, Knight Bruce, you’ve arrived.”

Victor stood and smiled, nodding in greeting to the two men who had just entered. He could only laugh inwardly at the old scholar’s misunderstanding.

“There’s something I’d like you to see.” Victor shooed the crow off his shoulder and handed one ore sample to each of them.

Upon taking the ore, Knight Bruce’s expression immediately grew intense. He gazed fervently at Victor and asked tentatively, “Mithril ore?”

Victor spread his hands at Knight Bruce, indicating his uncertainty. Then, everyone in the room turned their eager gazes upon Master Edwin.

If this truly was Mithril ore, it would be a major event for the entire Centaur Hills.

“Regrettably, this is not Mithril ore.” After a careful inspection, Master Edwin’s knitted brow relaxed.

“This is soft silver ore. Its color is very similar to Mithril ore, but it has an elasticity that other ores lack. You can tell just by squeezing it in your hand,” Edwin explained.

Knight Bruce immediately squeezed the ore in his hand, and sure enough, he left several distinct fingerprints on its surface.

“Master, is this what they call false silver ore?” Bruce asked Edwin, tossing the ore onto the table in disappointment.

“That’s right. This is the very same false silver ore that swindlers often use to pass off as Mithril ore,” Edwin confirmed with a nod.

Soft silver ore’s color and shape were very similar to Mithril ore’s, and people often mistook it for the real thing. However, the metal refined from soft silver ore was as soft as mud, completely useless for forging equipment, and it possessed no elemental affinity. Therefore, soft silver had no value to humans, which was why people also called it false silver.

Victor sighed in relief. Though slightly disappointed, he had the Alchemy Tower. As long as he had time to develop in peace, what was a mere Mithril mine?

If it had been a real Mithril mine, it would have been a huge problem for Victor. He might have even had his domain forcibly traded away by a powerful noble faction, and he certainly wouldn’t be able to move the Alchemy Tower.

“Although soft silver is worthless, its ore veins contain an associated crystal that can be processed into exquisite jewelry. For your domain, that could be a decent source of income.”

Edwin tried to console the “disappointed” young lord, then asked, “Where did you find this soft silver ore?”

“Today, Narsen captured three freemen who were spying on the camp. These two pieces of ore were found on them.”

Victor then gave Bruce and Edwin a detailed account of the Gnoll attack on the freemen and the existence of large freemen camps in his territory.

“Victor, the Gnolls are of little consequence, but the freemen are a major problem in your territory. You must take this seriously. Do you have any more detailed intelligence?” Bruce asked Victor gravely upon hearing about the large freemen camps.

“According to the three men, there are currently two large freemen camps and a few scattered smaller ones in the territory. I estimate the total number of freemen to be around eight hundred,” Narsen said to Bruce, after receiving a nod from Victor.

“One of the large camps is located in the east, on the border with Earl Chapman’s domain. The freemen in this camp are extremely xenophobic. They never interact with other freemen camps and will even kill strangers who approach their settlement. So, those three men didn’t know much about it.”

“The other camp is in our northeastern corner. They have about three hundred people. They have been sparing no effort to take in any freemen who seek refuge with them and often trade supplies with other camps. As a result, they have a strong reputation among the freemen.”

“The chief of this camp is named Bayr. It’s rumored that he once served in the army in Dodor, fought against the Sassans in the Battle of Whitewater Fortress, and was even awarded a Sword of Valor. This Bayr seems to intentionally have people spread word of his martial prowess. The three freemen were trying to join him with the ore.”

After Narsen finished, Bruce sneered and said, “A year ago, when our household guard came to clear out this territory, they also discovered that freemen camp. Back then, they only had a few dozen people. I didn’t expect them to have control over so many in just one year. Heh, this Bayr is rather interesting.”

“It seems it’s time to pay this Bayr a visit,” Victor said softly, a glint in his eyes.

Chapter 34: The Ruling

Bayr patrolled the camp with a longsword at his hip. This was his domain.

Everyone he encountered would bow to him reverently, and Bayr would nod back with a smile.

A few children were shrieking with laughter and chasing each other, holding a freshly caught ground lizard. When they saw Bayr from a distance, they immediately swarmed over to him.

“Uncle Bayr, this is the prey we just caught using the method you taught us. It’s for you,” the-leader of the group said, holding up the ground lizard in his hands like a precious treasure.

“Good. I accept your offering,” Bayr said with a smile. “Now, as a reward for your successful promotion to hunters, I will award this ground lizard back to you. You can go find Auntie Marcy and ask her to roast it for you. Then you can all have a good meal, and grow big and strong. When you’re older, you can help Uncle Bayr hunt bears. How about it?”

“Yeah! I’m going to be a mighty warrior just like Uncle Bayr when I grow up!” the lead boy declared loudly.

“Work hard, and all of you will surely become even greater warriors than Uncle Bayr,” Bayr said, smiling as he patted the little boy’s head.

Seeing this, the other children began to clamor.

“Me too!”

“Me too!”

Caught between laughter and tears, Bayr had no choice but to pat each of their heads in turn.

Just then, a tall, sturdy man walked over. Seeing Bayr laughing and playing with the children, he stood quietly to one side, his posture ramrod straight.

Only after Bayr had shooed the little rascals away did the man step forward and say, “Chief, Old Barton’s camp was wiped out by Gnolls.”

“Old Barton? When did this happen?” Bayr asked, puzzled.

“It happened two nights ago. Two survivors just came to us for refuge. According to them, the Gnolls smashed right through the camp’s fence. The people inside were caught completely off guard and the camp collapsed instantly.”

“Smashed right through the fence? Old Barton’s fence was made of a double layer of iron oakwood. Could it be that a Savage Gnoll has appeared in this territory?” Bayr frowned upon hearing this.

Savage Gnolls were a menace wherever they appeared. They could always gather a band of followers quickly and would then attack humans without restraint.

“The two survivors said they had been digging for mithril all day and were sleeping soundly. They didn’t get a clear look at what happened before they fled with the crowd. They also brought a piece of ore with them. But after that old swindler Grol looked at it, he said it was just false silver,” the tall man explained, suppressing a laugh.

“Mark, this is no laughing matter. They are a bunch of poor souls, just like us,” Bayr said sternly, looking at his subordinate’s gloating expression with displeasure.

“They deserved it! Chief, you asked Old Barton to join us with his people back then, but he stubbornly refused. Now I understand. He thought he’d discovered a mithril mine and wanted to keep it all for himself. In the end, not only did he get himself killed, but he got so many others killed too,” Mark said resentfully.

Greed always makes people foolish. Bayr wasn’t too concerned about the tragic end of Old Barton’s camp; what truly troubled him was something else.

“Have you heard anything back on the matter I sent you to Blackfort Town to inquire about?” Bayr asked Mark.

“The men we sent haven’t returned yet. Chief, what do you think will happen if the York family comes to conscript us?” Mark asked, full of worry.

Mark knew what was troubling Bayr. Ever since they discovered Victor and his party building their own camp, Bayr had halted all efforts to absorb other small freemen camps and had dispatched men to Blackfort Town to find out which lord from the York family was coming to take up his post here.

“The York family is powerful. If they were to really conscript us, everyone would be overjoyed. My fear is that they will drive us away or brand us as bandits. If that happens, I’m afraid we’ll end up just like Barton’s camp,” Bayr said, shaking his head with a bitter smile.

“Chief, our camp has more than four hundred people, and over half can fight. As long as the York family isn’t foolish, they’ll definitely conscript us. I’m just worried about what they’ll do to us once they find out about that business at Whitewater Fortress,” Mark whispered to Bayr, glancing around furtively.

Hearing Mark voice the deepest worry in his heart, Bayr expressionlessly gripped the hilt of his longsword.

It was a Sword of Valor from the Dodor Kingdom, forged using the hundred-refinements method. The chillingly sharp blade shimmered with a purplish-gold light, a result of the precious adamantine mixed into its materials during forging, making the sword stronger, sharper, and heavier.

The Sword of Valor was a weapon created by the Dodor Kingdom to commend warriors for outstanding military achievements. Only valiant warriors who had slain more than ten enemies in a single battle were worthy of receiving one. Not only was its quality extraordinary, but it symbolized a warrior’s glory. To this end, the Dodor Kingdom would even inscribe the recipient’s name and deeds upon the blade.

On Bayr’s Sword of Valor, such a sentence was engraved: This sword is presented to commemorate the valiant deed of the warrior Berg, who slew fourteen enemies in a single battle.

Berg was Bayr’s real name. He was once a vassal of Viscount Theo West, a Silver Knight of the Dodor Kingdom. During the Battle of Whitewater Fortress, Berg fought ferociously as the captain of Viscount Theo’s personal guard, killing and wounding dozens of Sassan soldiers, for which he was awarded the Sword of Valor by the Dodor Kingdom.

However, the ferocity of the Battle of Whitewater Fortress exceeded the expectations of both sides. In the ensuing sieges and defenses, as many as five Silver Knights fell in battle, including Berg’s lord, Viscount Theo.

With Viscount Theo dead, his personal guard was decimated, with only Berg and ten others surviving. While Berg and the other survivors were recovering from their wounds at Whitewater Fortress, Viscount Theo’s younger brother, Wendell, suddenly inherited the viscountcy. He then ordered Berg and the others to be hanged on charges of failing to protect their lord.

Berg and his men were all household guards loyal to Viscount Theo, so they were naturally viewed with suspicion by Wendell, who had usurped his nephew’s inheritance. However, Wendell’s despicable actions displeased the Dodor military judge. And so the judge, who had once fought alongside Viscount Theo, created an opportunity for Berg and his men to escape.

Although Berg and his men escaped Whitewater Fortress, they were still wanted throughout the Randt Empire by the Dodor Kingdom for the crime of betraying their lord.

Left with no choice, Berg changed his name to Bayr. Only his Sword of Valor still recorded his true name and his deeds.

“The York family is a prestigious house a thousand years old; they wouldn’t give a damn about a despicable character like Wendell. As long as we show we have sufficient value, they certainly won’t mind sheltering us. My fear is that some other ordinary noble has come to inherit the fief. They would most likely hand us over to the Dodor Kingdom,” Bayr said with a sigh, speaking softly to Mark, who had followed him all this time.

Just as the two men stood in silent contemplation, their minds heavy with worry, the warning clapper on the watchtower suddenly sounded. The entire camp exploded into chaos, a cacophony of shouts, whistles, and cries.

Bayr and Mark stared at each other, seeing the gravity and horror in each other’s eyes.

Victor sat on his horse, observing the camp below the hill, which covered an area of about one square kilometer.

It was clearly a Motte-style wooden fort, with a double-layered iron oakwood fence reaching seven meters high. Inside the fence stood more than a dozen nine-meter-tall arrow towers.

This Motte was built on an open space on the shore of a lake. It only had an outer bailey, with no keep. A five-meter-wide moat had been dug around the outer bailey, turning the entire fortification into an island connected to the lake.

Victor looked out and saw that the camp had built two wooden jetties on the side facing the lake, with many canoes tied to either side. And in the center of the sparkling lake, there was actually a small island.

Evidently, this island in the lake served as the Motte’s keep. When the outer bailey could no longer be defended, these freemen would flee to the island by canoe for refuge.

At that moment, the camp, which had just been bustling with noise, had fallen completely silent. Behind the seven-meter-high wooden fence, many figures could be seen moving indistinctly. The freemen had already propped up the scaffolding behind the fence, creating a makeshift firing platform. Once a battle began, the archers hidden behind the wooden fence would rain down a deadly volley of arrows from their high ground.

“This camp is well-designed, and the guards are well-trained. The person in charge of this camp clearly has a wealth of combat experience,” Bruce said to Victor. The military discipline displayed by this freemen camp surprised him.

“My lord, the layout of this camp and the way the guards are hidden all have a strong Dodor style. It seems the rumor that this Bayr participated in the Battle of Whitewater Fortress is likely true,” a fully armored Narsen added.

The War Bear Mercenaries were employed by the Dodor Kingdom and had fought the Sassans in the north for years. They were very familiar with the fighting styles of both the Sassans and Dodor.

“Narsen, send someone to deliver a message. Tell this camp to send a representative to see me,” Victor ordered coolly.

From the firing platform, Bayr and Mark stared in bewilderment at the army across from them. The force of over a hundred men flew two noble house banners: one was the wild boar banner of the York family, and the other was a nightingale banner they did not recognize.

“Chief, are they from the York family? Or some other family’s army?” Mark asked Bayr in confusion.

“We’ll know if we wait a little longer,” Bayr said, unable to make sense of the situation himself. But since they had come knocking, the truth would eventually be revealed.

Sure enough, a cavalryman from the opposing side galloped up to the camp’s gate and shouted, “By order of the lord of this land, Baron Wimbledon, the residents of this camp are required to dispatch a representative to the lord’s presence to answer his inquiries.” After shouting this three times, the cavalryman turned his horse and returned to his ranks.

The envoy’s words made Bayr’s and Mark’s hearts sink to the bottom.

Although they didn’t recognize the nightingale sigil of the Wimbledon family, they knew the family’s history was even older than that of the York family. It was just that the family had long since fallen into decline over its long history. Now, they had devolved into a fragmented collection of commercial nobles.

Bayr could almost see his and his men’s fate: to be tied up by this Baron Wimbledon and handed over to Viscount Wendell as a bargaining chip for various benefits.

Bayr was filled with unwillingness. He and his ten fellow household guards had hidden their identities and fled from Dodor to the distant Centaur Hills. Along the way, they had endured attacks from monsters and bandits, and suffered from injury, sickness, and hunger. By the time they established this freemen camp, only five of the original eleven brothers who had escaped together remained.

And Bayr had poured countless amounts of effort into this camp. He and his brothers had killed the cruel chief who took pleasure in oppressing other freemen, taking his place and becoming the new leaders of this community.

After becoming the chief of the freemen, he led them in clearing the wilderness, setting up camp, reclaiming wastelands, and hunting and fishing to sustain the group. Every time they faced danger, Bayr was always the first to charge into the fray, fighting tooth and nail. He selflessly taught the other freemen martial skills, gradually enabling them to protect themselves and their families.

He was just in his dealings and kind to others. Even his own brothers who had followed him all this way would be punished if they made a mistake, and even the old, weak, orphaned, and widowed were cared for. He established a new order for this community.

His ability and courage, his justice and mercy, had earned him the support of the freemen. Every single person in this camp supported him and respected him. This feeling of being the center of everyone’s attention gave Bayr immense satisfaction and slowly healed the wounds in his heart. He had even taken three women from the camp as his partners.

In just over a year, what was originally a small camp of a few dozen people had, under his management, gradually grown into this large freemen camp of over four hundred.

At first, Bayr had indeed hoped to be recruited by some powerful lord. Even being an ordinary subject was better than the displaced life of a freeman. But as the camp grew day by day, his heart filled with a sense of accomplishment, honor, and responsibility. These feelings made him feel fulfilled and happy. Now, he only wished for this life to continue forever. Because he liked the feeling of being loved and respected.

“Look after my sword. I’m going to see the Baron. You all guard the camp. If I don’t return, do not open the gate for any reason,” Bayr said, handing his Sword of Valor to Mark.

If it were the York family coming to inherit this land, Bayr might have chosen to submit, awed by their power. But now, the Wimbledon family was the master of this territory. The gap between reality and his own ambitions made Bayr decide to take a gamble.

“Chief, it’s too dangerous! Let me go!” Mark said, trying anxiously to stop Bayr.

“Don’t worry. As long as the camp hasn’t been breached, they won’t kill me easily. I know what I’m doing,” Bayr said with confidence.

“If they attack the camp, then don’t you hold back! Fight them as you see fit! If you can’t win, retreat to the small island,” Bayr instructed before leaving, a glint in his eyes.

The man standing before Victor had a weather-beaten face, looking like a middle-aged man in his forties who had endured many hardships. But his muscles were coordinated and his steps were nimble, like that of a young man. Facing over a hundred guards, the unarmed man put on a timid display, cowering with his eyes darting around in panic. Yet Victor could clearly see that his gaze was focused and steady. His eyes only seemed to be wandering; in reality, he was rapidly and covertly observing his surroundings.

An idea struck Victor, and he directly entered his Super Sense state. A set of data immediately appeared in his vision.

Physique 18, Spirit 11, Perception 11, Life 15. This was a Savage warrior!

While Victor was observing Bayr, Bayr was also secretly sizing up the group before him.

The leader, the handsome, black-haired, black-eyed Baron, had an elegant demeanor, but his muscles were slack; he didn’t seem like a knightly noble.

And on either side of the Baron was a warrior in armor. The one on his right held two battle-axes, his gaze sharp and his figure nimble. He looked quite powerful. The nightingale sigil of the Wimbledon family was engraved on his armor; he must be the Baron’s guard. He wasn’t a Knight, however, because he lacked the unique aura of pride that all noble Knights possessed.

The other man, though empty-handed, had a calm and confident air. He was flanked by three retainers in full scale armor. This was clearly a powerful Knight. It was just that this Knight and his men all wore the wild boar sigil on their armor, which meant they were Knights of the York family.

Bayr quickly assessed the scene before him: this young lord and the York family must be allies. However, this lord certainly had no Knights of his own! Because a lord would not easily ask an ally to handle his domain’s internal affairs, as it would expose his weakness! And this Baron Victor Wimbledon was a weak lord!

This judgment brought a secret joy to Bayr’s heart, further strengthening his resolve to be independent.

“What is your name?” Victor asked the man, his expression unchanging.

“My lord, my name is Bayr. May the glory of the Lord of Radiance shine upon you,” Bayr said, lowering his head to deeply conceal the joy in his eyes. He knelt humbly before Victor, exposing his undefended neck to sword and axe.

Victor sneered inwardly at the little trick in Bayr’s words.

No lord liked the Radiant Church meddling in their territory, because the Radiant Church would not allow noble lords to do as they pleased with their subjects and the freemen in their lands. For thousands of years, over a hundred lords had been permanently imprisoned in the monasteries of Mount Radiance by the Church for the crime of slaughtering freemen, where they remained until they died of old age.

“Bayr, I commend your courage. But right now, you are planting crops, mining, and hunting on my land, encroaching upon my wealth. However, I am willing to uphold the lordly virtue of mercy and grant you the status of my subjects. Make your choice now: accept my rule, or leave my territory,” Victor stated his position to Bayr directly.

“My lord, thank you for your mercy. It is our honor to become your subjects. We are willing to accept your rule,” Bayr said, an expression of delighted surprise on his face as he bowed his head even lower.

“Very well. Shut down your camp and bring your people to my fort. I will resettle you,” Victor said with a smile.

“My lord, you may not know, but our camp has a total of 423 people. We can only barely sustain ourselves as it is. If we shut down our camp and move to your lordship’s settlement, all of us will face a food shortage, and it would also increase your lordship’s burden. I beg my lord to allow us to keep this camp for now,” Bayr pleaded bitterly.

Victor’s demand made Bayr curse inwardly. Keeping the camp was his bottom line; he could not possibly agree to such a request.

“Oh?! Are you refusing me?!” A noble’s smile hung on Victor’s face, but his eyes were a sheet of ice.

“My lord, we are willing to pay you an eighty percent tribute, provide you with labor, and accept the management of a village head you appoint. We only ask that you allow us to keep our camp for the time being, for it is the only way we can survive the cold Season of Water,” Bayr pleaded desperately, kowtowing to Victor.

Sir Bruce, at his side, spoke up with some impatience, “Victor, a freeman who refuses a lord’s command can be considered a bandit. My men and I will clear this obstacle for you. Make your ruling.”

A wooden Motte could not stop the attack of a Knight, but Bruce was unwilling to bear the crime of slaughtering freemen. Before taking action, he needed Victor to exercise his right as a lord and make a ruling.

If Victor ruled that Bayr was a bandit, then Bruce would lead his men to breach the stockade and slaughter these so-called bandits until they no longer posed a threat. If Victor ruled that Bayr was a freeman, then he and his men would no longer participate in Victor’s handling of the freemen problem.

Victor recalled Edwen’s solemn advice after interrogating the three freemen: if this freemen camp could not be subdued, it must be resolutely destroyed! They posed a greater threat to the domain than bandits! Because they had already formed a de facto relationship of protection and being protected, which was absolutely intolerable!

Bruce wholeheartedly agreed with this sentiment.

In his Overlimit state, Victor could clearly see the sweat on the back of Bayr’s neck. Although his body was still prostrate on the ground, his muscles were tensed, ready to erupt like a wild beast at any moment—either to lunge at Victor, or to flee back to his camp with astonishing speed.

Victor’s palms were also sweating, not because he was afraid Bayr would attack him—even a Savage warrior could not possibly take a lord hostage under the watch of a Knight, especially when Victor, in his Apocalypse state, could kill the unprepared Bayr.

Victor was nervous because he had to make a ruling that would decide the life or death of several hundred people.

Bandits? Or freemen? To kill? Or not to kill?

Chapter 35: Sowing Division

Victor’s slender fingers tapped gently on his saddle, each tap like a drumbeat on Bayr’s heart. His mouth was dry and cold sweat streamed down his back. His muscles were taut like a compressed spring, ready to burst forth at any moment and flee back to the camp faster than a charging warhorse.

As for taking the seemingly weak young lord hostage, the thought never even crossed Bayr’s mind. It wasn’t that he lacked the courage for such a risk; as a former vassal, he was simply too accustomed to holding lords in awe. All he wanted now was to maintain control over the camp, and for that, he was willing to pay Victor a full tribute.

Though Bayr was more worldly than the average subject, he was not a nobleman. He had unwittingly crossed a fundamental line of the ruling class: What I give you is yours. What I do not give you, you dare not even think of taking!

Everyone was waiting for the lord to make his stance clear. Bruce even took a war spear from a retainer and lowered the visor of his helmet. In his view, there was no possibility of forgiveness for freemen who threatened a lord’s rule.

Just as Victor was about to speak, a Blood-eye Crow landed on a guard’s shoulder. The guard swiftly untied the letter from the crow’s leg and handed it to Victor.

After reading the parchment letter, Victor held it in his palm, his face expressionless. He turned to the kneeling Bayr and asked, “Bayr, I heard you have a Sword of Valor issued by the Dodor Kingdom. Why don’t I see you carrying it?”

Hearing Baron Wimbledon mention the Sword of Valor, Bayr cursed his luck inwardly. He put on a frightened and uneasy look and said to Victor, “My lord, I do have a Sword of Valor, but I took it from a Gnoll bandit. It wasn’t issued to me by the Dodor Kingdom.”

“Is that so? Go back and bring the sword for me to see. While you’re at it, have ten people come out to see me. I have something to say to them.” Victor smiled noncommittally, then added, “Among these ten people, there must be old men, women, and children. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord. I’ll go at once,” Bayr said respectfully. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he rose and walked toward the camp.

Although he didn’t understand Victor’s intention in calling for ten people, it was clear the lord would no longer label them as bandits. This brought Bayr a great sense of relief.

“Bruce, I’ve decided to let them off for now,” Victor said to Bruce after Bayr had entered the camp.

“Victor, I respect your will, but I still think your mercy will bring you great trouble,” Bruce said with a shrug, handing the spear back to the retainer beside him, his tone indifferent.

While Bruce was slightly disappointed to miss out on the credit for exterminating bandits, it was also a good thing that his men wouldn’t have to risk casualties.

“This isn’t just about mercy. It’s news that just arrived from Master Edwin.” Victor’s expression turned grim as he handed the letter to Bruce.

“Ogres!?” Bruce’s brow furrowed the moment he read the letter’s contents.

While Victor and Bruce were leading their troops to deal with the freemen camp, the scout sent to investigate the entrance to the Great Marsh had returned. He had discovered traces of Ogre activity on the only path into the Great Marsh. Edwin had immediately used a Blood-eye Crow to relay this information to Victor and Bruce.

“Crushing this camp would be no trouble for us, but casualties would be unavoidable. I decided to spare them for now in order to concentrate more of our forces against the Ogres. After all, the Ogres are the real menace!” Victor explained to Bruce.

“Yes, Ogres are indeed difficult to deal with,” Bruce nodded, his tone grave.

In truth, even without the news from Edwin, Victor had no intention of wiping out these freemen.

On one hand, Victor couldn’t bring himself to coldly order the slaughter of several hundred people just to maintain his authority, unlike other lords. On the other hand, he wanted to use the acceptance of freemen into his territory to conceal the Alchemical humans he would produce in the future.

As long as he had a sufficient number of Alchemical humans, these freemen wouldn’t be able to stir up any trouble, even if their camp was ten times stronger.

However, although he had decided to accept these freemen, Victor knew he had to use certain measures to control them. Otherwise, unmitigated mercy would only be seen as weakness to be exploited by the ambitious.

“Narsen, I want you to have a duel with this Bayr. Are you confident you can win?” Victor asked, turning his head to Narsen.

“This Bayr is strong, but he’s not my match,” Narsen said with a confident smile.

“Don’t ever underestimate your enemy. It’s very likely Bayr is the one who was awarded the Sword of Valor. My innate intuition tells me he’s a Ferocious Warrior, just like you,” Victor cautioned Narsen seriously.

“If the Dodor Kingdom also awarded the Sword of Valor to mercenaries, I could have earned three of them. Besides, I never underestimate my enemy. Mercenaries who do don’t live long.” Narsen brandished the axe in his hand, his calm words carrying an iron-blooded air of indifference to life and death.

Victor nodded in satisfaction and turned back to Bruce. “This Bayr is quite skilled. Should we conscript some men from this camp to deal with the Ogres?”

Since these freemen were willing to become Victor’s subjects, they could not refuse their lord’s summons, especially since the Ogres threatened everyone in the territory.

“Ogres are powerful opponents. Only well-trained and united soldiers can eliminate these terrifying monsters. I don’t even plan on taking your militia, and as for this Bayr, I don’t trust him,” Bruce said, shaking his head and rejecting Victor’s idea.

Untrained militia, who had never faced a life-or-death battle, wouldn’t even be able to hold their weapons steady in front of a terrifying Ogre. Their panic would only shatter the entire troop’s morale, causing an irreversible chain reaction.

“Then we can only have them offer us supplies as tribute.”

For these people who harbored dissent, Victor decided to exercise his rights as a lord. Besides, collecting tribute would also serve to continuously weaken the strength of this group of freemen.

As they spoke, Bayr returned with ten people.

“Good day, my lord Baron.” Led by Bayr, the group bowed to Victor.

“I am Victor Wimbledon, Baron, and the legal owner of this land. I have already agreed to accept you as my subjects,” Victor announced to them in a loud voice.

Victor’s decision brought looks of joy to the faces of the freemen. It meant they could live peacefully on this land from now on.

“Bayr, let me see your Sword of Valor,” Victor said to Bayr.

Bayr respectfully handed the sword hilt to Victor. Although he was reluctant to part with it, if this Sword of Valor could be exchanged for the lord’s acceptance, it was a good outcome.

“Berg?” Victor commented, glancing playfully at Bayr after seeing the name engraved on the Sword of Valor.

“Yes, my lord. This is the Sword of Valor I took from the Gnoll bandits,” Bayr said bitterly.

“Bayr, you asked me to let this camp remain, and I can agree to that. However, traces of Ogres have appeared in the territory. Therefore, you must prove to me that you have the ability to protect this camp. Otherwise, I will order everyone here to be relocated.”

Victor’s words caused a stir among the freemen, but their trust in Bayr quickly calmed them down.

“My lord, how do you need me to prove myself?” Bayr asked, his eyes burning.

As for the Ogres, Bayr believed Victor was just fear-mongering. They had lived here for two years. In the beginning, there were indeed many monsters, but the strongest among them were Ferocious Gnolls. Ever since the York family cleared this territory a year ago, powerful monsters were basically never seen again. More and more freemen had come here to make a living, but none had ever heard of Ogres in the area.

“It’s simple. This is my Guard Captain. You only need to last a quarter of an hour against him, and I will grant your request.” A cunning glint flashed in Victor’s eyes as he pointed at Narsen, then plunged the Sword of Valor into the ground.

“My lord, I’ll need a shield,” Bayr said in a deep voice, suppressing the wild joy in his heart as he drew the newly recovered Sword of Valor.

Bayr was confident he could defeat Narsen. In the battle at Whitewater Fortress, he had even killed a Sasan apprentice knight in a frontal assault. What’s more, all he had to do now was hold on against this Guard Captain for a quarter of an hour.

I can’t be too flashy. If I injure this Guard Captain, it will make the lord lose face. I should go easy today, Bayr thought to himself.

Bayr was completely unaware that he had fallen into Victor’s verbal trap. He had no idea that Narsen was also a Ferocious Warrior, and one even stronger than him. If he had fought with all his might, he might have been able to contend with Narsen. But by merely thinking about surviving for a quarter of an hour, the outcome was bound to be ugly.

Victor nodded and gestured back. One of his guards tossed a heavy shield to Bayr. It was a shield with an Iron Oak core, inlaid with a solid steel plate, and wrapped in thick leather.

Bayr swung it a few times with ease and said to Victor, “I am ready, my lord.”

Narsen, clad in full plate armor, stepped forward. From five meters away, he raised his battle axe toward Bayr, signaling that he could begin.

Bayr’s pupils constricted. He struck his shield hard with his longsword and assumed a stance. His intuition told him that this stocky, indifferent guard was a formidable opponent who must be handled with care, so he decided to test his strength first.

However, Narsen had no intention of testing the waters. He charged directly at Bayr, his battle axe swinging viciously toward his opponent.

The blow was simple, direct, ferocious, and domineering. The sharp axe blade cut through the air with a whistling sound, carrying an air of tragic slaughter.

Facing Narsen’s all-out downward chop, Bayr’s heart tightened. He slapped his heavy shield in his left hand diagonally at Narsen’s axe, attempting to knock it aside.

However, when shield and axe met, Bayr realized the force of the chop was astonishing. Not only did he fail to knock the axe away, but an unstoppable, immense force pressed his shield back into him.

Bayr’s Physique of eighteen far surpassed that of an ordinary elite soldier, but Narsen’s Physique was a full twenty. He was inherently stronger than Bayr. Facing a Narsen who was giving his all while he himself was still holding back—the consequence of this information asymmetry was that he was instantly put at a disadvantage.

Faced with this sudden overwhelming force, Bayr displayed exceptional martial skill. Flustered but not panicked, he used the force to his advantage, retreating as he spun his body to the right and swung the Adamantine longsword up at Narsen.

This was Bayr’s desperate counter-attack, an attempt to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. Even if it didn’t hit Narsen, it could force him back, allowing Bayr to create distance and regain his footing.

Narsen didn’t grant him his wish. The martial skills of the War Bear Mercenaries might not be as refined as those of the nobility, but they were killing techniques forged in the crucible of life and death. Once they gained an advantage, they would launch a violent and ferocious assault, relentlessly pressing their advantage until the opponent was defeated.

Narsen didn’t retreat but advanced, parrying the slashing longsword with his axe and immediately striking Bayr’s chest with the pommel.

Bayr had no choice but to protect his chest with his shield. The immense force sent him staggering back once again, and he was immediately caught in Narsen’s storm-like assault.

Seeing their leader being suppressed, the spectating freemen were all dumbfounded. In their minds, Bayr had always been an invincible, powerful warrior. Now, their faith in him was shaken.

As expected of the Baron’s Guard Captain. He’s truly no match for a wandering warrior like Bayr!

If Bayr knew what his subjects were thinking, he would have coughed up blood from anger. What do you mean, ‘wandering warrior’? I was the Captain of the Viscount’s personal guard!

This was precisely why Victor had called ten old men, women, and children to witness the duel. He needed these freemen to see Bayr’s defeat and, at the same time, establish the impression in their minds that the lord was even more powerful.

These elders, women, and children had no fighting ability and were unlikely to be Bayr’s cronies, so it would be difficult for Bayr to stop them from spreading what they had seen throughout the camp.

Bayr had no time to think about such things. Narsen had completely seized control of the fight’s rhythm. The continuous, ferocious attacks left him hard-pressed and struggling to defend himself. He was full of regret. If he had used his full strength from the beginning, he wouldn’t have been so thoroughly suppressed, even if he couldn’t defeat this powerful Guard Captain.

Still, he was a recipient of the Sword of Valor. Under extremely adverse conditions, he still displayed exquisite martial arts and a tenacious fighting spirit, occasionally using clever counter-attacks to try and turn the tide. Even the watching Bruce nodded in silent approval.

The fierce battle between the two powerful warriors kicked up clouds of dust, obscuring the spectators’ view. Only the massive clang of weapons colliding could be heard. The ground where they fought became pitted and scarred, a complete mess, as if trampled by a giant beast.

Finally, with a ferocious upward slash, Narsen sent the long-since-deformed heavy shield flying from Bayr’s hand. Bayr staggered back several steps, switching his sword from a one-handed to a two-handed grip. He breathed heavily, preparing to face Narsen’s next attack.

But Narsen stopped his assault and stepped back. As Bayr watched in confusion, he heard the Baron’s voice.

“Time’s up. Bayr, you have proven your ability to me. I will grant your request and allow this camp to remain.”

Bayr’s face was a mask of bewilderment. Although Victor had granted his request, he didn’t feel the happiness he had expected. Instead, he felt he had lost something far more precious.

Victor looked at the ten equally bewildered freemen, pointed to an old farmer, and asked, “What is your name?”

“My lord, my name is Dick,” the white-haired old farmer answered with a start, quickly stepping forward.

“Dick, I have agreed to Bayr’s request to let this camp remain. I now appoint you Village Head of this camp. I hope you will not betray my trust,” Victor said to Dick with a smile.

“Ah!?” Dick was thunderstruck, rooted to the spot. This sudden windfall of happiness made the old farmer feel as if he were dreaming.

“Village Head Dick, I have a few matters to entrust to you.” Victor continued, not caring if the dazed Dick was listening. “First, you are to tell the subjects in this camp that I permit them to move to my temporary camp of their own free will. No one is to obstruct them. Second, without my permission, this camp is not to accept any other freemen, nor is it to continue felling the Purple Cane forest. Third, as my subjects, you are to pay me tribute. However, considering the current food shortage, I will allow you to use timber, stone, ore, and fish in its place.”

“Yes, yes, my lord! I… I will certainly do as you command! Certainly!” After a companion jabbed him sharply in the back, Dick finally came to his senses and hastily pledged his obedience to Victor.

“Very good. In seven days, I will send men to this camp to transport the tribute. You will need to have everything ready. Do you understand?” Victor nodded in satisfaction.

“I understand, my lord,” Dick said, nodding and bowing with a fawning expression.

After Victor and Bruce led their troops away, Bayr looked at the dazed old Dick with a complex expression, then turned and walked back toward the camp.

The others cast glances of envy, jealousy, or disdain at the new Village Head before they too trickled back into the camp, leaving old Dick standing there, muttering to himself, “I’m the Village Head? I’m the Village Head now!?”

Chapter 36: The Old Ogre

Ogres are immense, hideous, and greedy creatures. They prey on the weak and are accustomed to solving problems with violence. An adult Ogre stands nearly three meters tall on average and weighs around two hundred kilograms.

Spire Scholars believe Ogres are a branch of Goblins. However, unlike their frail cousins, these strong and powerful humanoid monsters are innately evil and brutal. They will eat any creature they capture, including their own kind.

Ogres are mostly social creatures. The smallest groups are family units composed of one or two males, two to five females, and several young. The largest groups can exceed a hundred. Their method for dealing with problems is to directly smash anything in their way with wooden clubs, stones, and spears. If that fails, they adopt an avoidant attitude and simply ignore it.

Ogres are physically robust and immensely strong, but their minds are rather dim. They will attack human villages without any hesitation. In fact, most villages that fall are destroyed at the hands of Ogres. For this reason, a human lord might tolerate Goblins, Kobolds, or even a small clan of Gnolls in their territory, but they would never allow an Ogre to roam free.

Victor, Edwen, and Bruce were gathered around an oak table, all waiting for the latest intelligence from the scouts.

A large black crow flew in through the window, flapped its wings, and landed on the table. It let out a loud “Caw!” at Edwen. It was Victor’s alchemical crow.

Edwen immediately placed a handful of pebbles and a silver plate on the table. The alchemical crow picked up a single pebble and dropped it into the silver plate with a “clink.” Then, it cocked its small head and looked Edwen up and down, as if wondering where the old scholar would produce its reward from.

“This is Blackfeather’s third reconnaissance flight. Based on the results, it seems there is indeed only one Ogre in the southwest corner of the territory for now,” Edwen announced to the others after tossing a dried fruit to the waiting crow.

Over the past few days, Edwen had been training the clever alchemical crow, which he had named Blackfeather. He was surprised to find that with training, Blackfeather could express numbers up to twenty. So, he had drawn a picture of an Ogre and tried to have Blackfeather scout out their numbers.

“Master, I’m not questioning your conclusion, but Ogres usually travel in groups… For the safety of the soldiers, we should wait for more detailed intelligence from the scouts.” Bruce didn’t believe a crow could tell the difference between one and a group. The bird might have some low cunning, but it was probably all spent on tricking people for food and drink.

Victor, of course, knew that Blackfeather’s reconnaissance was reliable, but he would never offer any opinion on the matter.

Just then, Narsen hurried in, holding a letter.

“Southwest corner. One Ogre. Gnoll numbers unknown. This is the intel from the scouts,” Narsen said directly, noticing all three men were staring at him.

“One Ogre? That’s great news!” Victor breathed a sigh of relief. Although he trusted the alchemical crow’s scouting ability, with confirmation from the scouts, this had to be the most accurate result.

Edwen and Bruce exchanged a look, and both saw the gravity in the other’s eyes. Edwen hesitated for a moment before saying to Victor, “A single Ogre is good news, but it could also be bad news.”

“Ogres are brutal and belligerent monsters. The most powerful males among them fight each other for leadership of the tribe. These battles are usually fatal, with a loser always consecrating the victor’s authority with his blood and life. But there are always exceptions. Occasionally, a defeated male will escape the tribe and become a wandering Ogre. These solitary Ogres are exceptionally powerful, and most of them have mastered the ability to go berserk.” As Edwen spoke, he glanced at Bruce, knowing he would understand his meaning.

“A berserk Ogre’s strength surpasses that of an ordinary Knight. This innate ability allows them to ignore pain; the more grievous their injuries, the more their strength and speed increase. Ordinary elite soldiers cannot withstand a berserk Ogre’s assault, and even a Bronze Knight might not last very long. However, I am confident I can hold it off. During that time, all you have to do is continuously wound it with heavy crossbows until it’s dead!” Bruce said softly, a burning fighting spirit blazing in his eyes.

Clearly, Bruce intended to use this Ogre as his opportunity to break through the Bronze rank and step into the extraordinary realm.

“Captain Narsen, you will need to select some men skilled with crossbows and horsemanship to set out with my men. Remember to wear only leather armor, because if an Ogre’s spiked club hits you, it makes no difference whether you’re wearing plate mail or leather. Only speed and agility can protect you,” Bruce instructed Narsen.

“Couldn’t we dig a pit trap or something for this Ogre?” Victor suggested. He felt there was no need to clash head-on with a powerful but stupid Ogre.

“Although Ogres are foolish and reckless, they possess a keen intuition, or perhaps a kind of talent, that allows them to avoid most traps. Otherwise, they would have gone extinct long ago. Therefore, soldiers who fight Ogres must always accept the risk of death and injury,” Edwen explained to Victor with a wry smile, shaking his head.

“We’ll ride out this afternoon. After reaching our destination, we’ll let the soldiers and horses rest fully, then attack that monster at noon tomorrow. Let’s start preparing now,” Bruce said, shooting to his feet. He leaned on the table with both hands, a hint of excitement in his voice.

In the afternoon, a party of over forty men set out on time. Besides all the apprentice knights, Victor and Edwen accompanied them.

Victor had joined the party at Bruce’s request, as his lethality with a military-grade heavy crossbow was no less than that of an ordinary Knight. And Victor, for his part, truly wanted to see this legendary monster for himself.

As for Edwen, he had strongly insisted on participating in the operation, promising to stay in a safe place and not be a burden to anyone.

By dusk, they had rendezvoused with the scouts monitoring the Ogre and reconfirmed the intelligence: a single Ogre had built a den by a stream. From a distance, there were no signs of injury. In a nearby forest, traces of Gnolls had been found, but their numbers were unknown.

Before the sun set, a temporary camp was set up. After finishing his dinner, Sir Bruce gave a nod to the others and retired to his own tent to rest.

“Bruce seems a bit off. Is he really going to be okay tomorrow?” Victor had never seen Bruce, who always maintained his aristocratic demeanor, look so grave. He couldn’t help but worry.

“Bruce is preparing for tomorrow’s battle. He will face a berserk Ogre alone. For him, this is a dangerous challenge,” Edwen said softly.

“I don’t quite understand. If a berserk Ogre is so powerful, why don’t we just shoot it from a distance with heavy crossbows?” Victor asked Edwen, perplexed.

“There are two problems with that. The first is that in a berserk state, an Ogre is completely unaffected by its injuries. In fact, its speed and strength increase dramatically. If a Knight isn’t there to hold back its attacks, the monster will slaughter our archers long before they can kill it. The result would be catastrophic losses for our archers, and the Ogre, with its tough constitution, might not even die. The second problem is that advancement for Knights is extremely difficult. For a Bronze Knight to enter the extraordinary realm, besides relying on Bloodline talent, there is another way: to undergo a life-and-death trial to stimulate the body’s potential. This may cause all twenty-four Elemental Nodes to resonate, allowing them to advance to Silver Knight. Bruce is trying to use this opportunity to break through to the Silver rank, so he will absolutely not pass it up.”

As Edwen explained this to Victor, neither of them noticed Nicole’s eyes shining brightly beside them.

The next morning, Bruce and Narsen walked at the head of the party, heavy shields in hand. Nicole and four apprentice knights were in the middle, protecting Victor and Master Edwen, while the other soldiers, holding crossbows, advanced in a fan formation behind them, heading for the Ogre’s den.

By noon, Victor saw the lone Ogre by the stream. The monster was only about 2.5 meters tall and was draped in a thick, black hide that looked something like a bearskin. Its limbs were bare, its joints large, but its muscles were clearly atrophied. Its skin was a dark brown, leathery, and covered in raised lumps. It was stooped, but its belly was swollen like a pregnant woman’s. A thick mat of grayish-white hair obscured its features, making its face impossible to see.

It was indeed an Ogre, but it didn’t look like the strong, tall Ogre chief of common perception. It looked more like a severely ill Ogre. Just as everyone was looking at each other in confusion, an aged voice spoke.

“Humans, why have you come to Gorash’s home? I’m so old I can’t even chew the meat of a Split-hoof Bull. I am no threat to you, and I have no treasure. Please, leave.”

It was a standard human common tongue, with no errors in grammar or tone. But everyone was stunned, because the voice was coming from the Ogre.

Ogres were stupid and primitive. Although they had their own language and could even speak some simple Gnoll, it was unheard of for an Ogre to speak a complete human sentence. And now this strange Ogre was speaking human words. It was no wonder everyone was shocked.

“Heavens!? The legends are true! This is an Old Ogre!!” Edwen was the first to react, exclaiming loudly.

An Ogre’s lifespan could reach ninety years, but few lived past fifty, as weakened Ogres would die of starvation or internecine conflict. But legend had it that once an Ogre lived past sixty, they would awaken their intelligence and be able to communicate with most intelligent races. They would also leave their tribes to live alone, just like the one before them.

“Yes, Gorash is old and doesn’t have many days left. I live here, eating bark and grass roots, hunting occasionally. I am no threat to you. Please spare poor old Gorash. Ah, the one who just spoke must be a learned old gentleman. Gorash most admires wise scholars. Perhaps we could become good friends,” the Old Ogre said, attempting to approach Edwen.

“Stop it!! It wants to eat my brain!” Master Edwen suddenly shouted in a flustered rage, “This Old Ogre can speak human language, which means it has eaten a human’s brain! Don’t be fooled by its words, it’s a cunning and cruel monster!”

Bruce’s expression changed drastically. He immediately stepped forward and pointed his halberd at the Old Ogre, roaring, “Stay back, you hideous monster!”

“Don’t be nervous, powerful knight. Those are just rumors. Gorash never eats human brains,” the Old Ogre said as it retreated.

“Don’t believe a single word an Old Ogre says. They are extremely cunning and skilled at deception. According to the Spire’s texts, Old Ogres are unable to acquire food within their tribes due to old age, so they quietly leave to live alone. To fill their bellies, they use traps and trickery to kill intelligent races. They especially favor eating humans, elves, and Halflings. There are rumors that Old Ogres can acquire their victims’ memories and wisdom by eating their brains, which is why the elderly and scholars hold an irresistible attraction for them.” Edwen spoke with a mixture of fear and excitement. “Some believe Old Ogres and regular Ogres can no longer be considered the same species, as the structure of their brains has changed significantly. I would love to open one up myself and see!”

The Old Ogre wanted to eat the old scholar’s brain, and the old scholar also wanted to open up the Old Ogre’s brain! Victor was speechless at this.

“No, no, no, you have a misunderstanding of Old Ogres. Gorash’s knowledge comes from an ancient Bloodline. My memories tell me that ogres and humans share a common ancestor. It’s just that our ancestors were cursed, which is why we look like this now.”

Seeing the crossbowmen spreading out and the knight advancing, the Old Ogre quickly explained, imperceptibly backing away towards its den, which was constructed from a mass of bones, wood, and turf.

“Ancient memories in the Bloodline?” Edwen’s eyes lit up. He knew that some powerful races passed down knowledge through bloodline inheritance; upon reaching a certain age, they would automatically acquire the wisdom and abilities within their blood.

“Of course. I know many ancient secrets. Perhaps we could sit down and discuss them,” Gorash said, trying to tempt the scholar again after noticing his curiosity about ancient knowledge.

“I could consider chopping off your limbs, taking you back to the Spire, and then slowly discussing it with you,” Edwen sneered.

Seeing that Edwen was not tempted, it turned to Victor and said, “You must be the lord of this land. Could you please ask your men to calm down? We can make a deal.”

“Oh? What kind of deal are you proposing?” Victor was surprised that this talking monster could identify his status.

“Honorable lord, a terrible disaster is about to befall your domain. You will suffer heavy casualties. I can give you this information, and in return, you will provide me with food. Of course, I can also help you eliminate other monsters in your lands, like the Gnolls…” Gorash threatened Victor, sounding for all the world like a charlatan prophet.

“Gorash, I will not believe the words of a man-eating monster. Don’t bother trying to argue. The bones scattered in your den have already told the story. Today is your last day, monster!” Victor’s eyes gleamed with a cold light. For the Baron, with his X-3 and a Perception of twenty, the human bones mixed in among the jumbled skeletons were perfectly clear.

“Heh heh, Gorash is an Ogre. Eating humans is in my nature, just as you humans consume cattle and sheep. There is no sin in it.”

Sensing Victor’s cold killing intent, the Old Ogre dropped its pretense. With a strange cackle, it pulled a massive leg bone from some giant beast out of its den, pointed it at Bruce, and said, “Powerful knight, Gorash is going to break through. Even if I fail, I can kill several of your companions. If I succeed, I will hide in the shadows and continuously take my revenge on you. Now, I give you a chance to face me one-on-one. If I win, you let me go. I swear on the name of Amberly, the Mother of Ogres, that I will never return to these lands. But you must also swear on your honor as a knight that you will not let your men surround me before our duel is decided. Do you dare, human knight!”

Bruce’s pupils constricted, and a cruel arc formed on his lips. He said, word by word, “I swear on my honor as a Knight, no one will attack you until you and I have settled our score.”

Bruce had wanted a life-and-death trial against a berserk Ogre to advance to Silver Knight anyway. Why would he fear an old, decrepit Ogre?

“This monster is so cunning! It only said if it won, it would leave and never come back, but it didn’t say what would happen if it lost! Should we remind Lord Bruce?” a rugged-looking apprentice knight muttered to his companion in a low voice. He failed to notice, however, that his companion was looking at him as if he were an idiot.

Chapter 37: Trial of Life and Death

Though stooped with age, Gorash was still over 2.5 meters tall. The sight of him effortlessly brandishing that massive bone club, a chilling, monstrous laugh echoing from his throat, was suffocatingly malevolent.

This was likely why Bruce was unwilling to bring ordinary militia to besiege the Ogre. An ordinary person would inevitably feel terror when facing a man-eating monster. It was a primal fear of a natural predator, etched into the bloodline and nearly impossible to suppress.

In Victor’s past life, humanity had defeated all its rivals and stood at the apex of the Earth. But in this life, humans had to face the challenges and slaughter of many more competitors, even natural enemies. How far they could go in the future was a question to which even Victor had no clear answer.

However, when he saw Sir Bruce standing like an immovable rock against the Old Ogre’s powerful and ferocious attacks, not yielding a single step, a surge of heroic spirit rose within him. Yes, even when facing their natural predators, humans would not lack the courage to fight. That was enough.

Bruce used the tower shield in his hand to block, bat, and deflect, withstanding Gorash’s attacks one after another. The 40-kilogram Adamantine halberd in his other hand whistled through the air as it chopped toward the Old Ogre’s body.

Had it been an ordinary Ogre, it would have long been covered in wounds under the assault of Bruce’s peerlessly sharp Adamantine halberd. But Gorash’s attacks were not crude and clumsy like those of his kin; instead, he displayed astonishing agility and extraordinary skill. Gorash managed to parry Bruce’s attacks with the massive bone club every time, using his height advantage to launch fierce counterattacks.

Victor noticed that for every one attack Bruce made, the Old Ogre attacked twice. He had no idea what beast’s bone the club was made from, but it could somehow withstand the continuous strikes of an Adamantine halberd without breaking.

Victor had once witnessed the battle between Baron Eskri and the Gnoll chief, Hogger. At that time, facing the ferocious, bloodthirsty Gnoll, Baron Eskri had shown overwhelming superiority, beheading the Gnoll chief in just a few exchanges. Yet, in his fight with the Old Ogre, Sir Bruce had gained no advantage at all and even seemed to be on the defensive. This made Victor a little worried.

Victor entered his Super Sense state.

Physique 22, Spirit 17, Perception 14, Life 8. These were the stats of the Old Ogre, Gorash.

Physique 23, Spirit 12, Perception 13, Life 16. These were the stats of Sir Bruce.

Based on the data, Sir Bruce held an advantage in Physique and Life. However, his Physique was only one point higher, and since Life did not directly enhance combat power, this advantage was almost meaningless. On the contrary, Gorash’s higher Spirit and Perception gave him an edge over the Knight in battle.

“Master, Sir Bruce’s situation doesn’t look optimistic. Should we make some preparations?” Victor said to Edwen with some concern, noticing the hard ground had become pockmarked and uneven under the trampling of the two combatants.

Victor was confident that in his Apocalypse state, he could use the military heavy crossbow to deal a fatal blow to Gorash, even while entangled with Bruce. After all, Gorash was not an Ogre chief who had mastered the berserk talent. As for the Knight’s promise to the Old Ogre, Victor didn’t care. He was not one of Bruce’s men, so even if he acted, it wouldn’t count as Bruce breaking his word.

“Don’t worry. Bruce hasn’t used his full strength yet. He’s been wearing down the Old Ogre’s stamina. If this old beast doesn’t show any other tricks, Bruce is about to finish it,” Edwen said, shaking his head and signaling for Victor not to worry.

As they spoke, an earthy-yellow aura manifested around Bruce. His Physique value shot up from the original 23 to an astonishing 27. The Physique attribute was, in fact, a reflection of the concentration of the earth element within a living being’s body, its most direct manifestation being a change in strength. And the power brought by 27 points of Physique was more than enough to crush the Old Ogre.

Bruce slammed his heavy tower shield against the incoming bone club. Gorash, caught off guard by the immense force, had his club knocked straight out of his hand, and his entire body staggered backward. Bruce seized the opportunity, swinging the Adamantine halberd in his right hand at the Old Ogre’s neck. The strike was like a bolt of lightning, unstoppable.

Just as it seemed Bruce was about to cut the Old Ogre down, Gorash let out a strange cry and desperately threw his body to the right. The halberd, which should have struck his neck, landed heavily on his raised left shoulder instead. The sharp blade cut through the Old Ogre’s tough hide and muscle, splitting the bone, as hard as steel, halfway through, but ultimately failed to sever Gorash’s left arm completely.

Bruce wrenched his halberd free from the bone, preparing to deliver the final blow. But Gorash took a deep breath, his protruding belly, like a pregnant woman’s, squirming. A torrent of foul, multicolored vomit shot from his mouth like a high-pressure water jet straight at Bruce. Bruce quickly shielded himself with his large tower shield. The Old Ogre seized the chance to flee into the woods across the stream, vanishing in an instant, leaving behind a pool of digested matter whose stench was nauseating.

It had escaped.

Bruce’s face was ashen. The massive tower shield had blocked most of the filth Gorash had spewed, but his legs below the knee were inevitably coated in the viscous, disgusting, and foul-smelling digestive matter.

“This Old Ogre is severely wounded. The four of you will hunt it down together. Consider it a trial. But remember, don’t get separated. If you can’t handle it, send a signal. I will come to support you,” Bruce ordered his four knight retainers, tossing his shield to the ground.

As a Knight of noble birth, Bruce had always been particular about his appearance. A disgraceful situation like this was intolerable to him. All he wanted now was to quickly clean the filth off his body; he had completely lost the desire to pursue Gorash himself.

Just as the four apprentice knights were checking their equipment, eager to set off, Nicole walked up to Bruce, planted her gleaming longsword in the ground, and knelt on one knee. Her voice was crisp and firm as she said, “My lord, Sir Bruce, apprentice knight Nicole requests permission to undertake the Trial of Life and Death to hunt the Ogre.”

Nicole’s words silenced the entire clearing.

The Trial of Life and Death was a sacred and solemn rite where a Knight, in order to advance, would single-handedly challenge a powerful, seemingly undefeatable monster. They would walk the line between life and death. The only outcomes were death in battle or promotion. There was no other way.

“Nicole! You must be mad! You don’t have to do this!” shouted Kaven, one of Bruce’s retainers.

The Trial of Life and Death was extremely dangerous. In fact, most knights who undertook the trial died in battle. Therefore, unless a knight truly had no other hope of breaking through, they would rarely choose to risk everything on a Trial of Life and Death.

“Kaven is right. Nicole, you have great talent. You’ve already resonated with ten Elemental Nodes at just 22. I was 27 when I was promoted to Bronze Knight. You still have plenty of time to polish your Aura and advance normally. Besides, you are the Countess’s attendant, not my retainer, so I cannot approve your request,” Bruce said to Nicole in a gentle voice.

Generally speaking, an apprentice knight’s hope of promotion was only completely extinguished after the age of thirty. A young apprentice knight like Nicole had no need to undertake a trial with such a slim chance of survival.

“My lord, I am already 22. This is also why My Lady had me accompany you here,” Nicole’s calm voice left Bruce at a loss for words.

As a female apprentice knight of the York family without the family name, if she did not become a Bronze Knight by the age of 22, it was customary for her to become a tool for the family to curry favor with powerful individuals or other nobles. Nicole was no exception.

Most of the female apprentice knights from humble backgrounds in the York family did not object to this fate. They would either become the partner of a Knight or a noble, which was by no means a bad outcome. Unfortunately, Nicole was one of the few who felt otherwise.

Bruce knew that upon her return, Nicole would be sent by the family to be the personal handmaiden of the Silver Knight, Lord Harnas. Harnas was originally a knight of another Duke in the three eastern provinces. After his liege was hanged, he secretly pledged allegiance to the York family.

Harnas was powerful, but he was also boorish and utterly devoid of noble bearing—not at all the type Nicole would like. That was why Sylvia had let Nicole travel with Victor, as a way of fulfilling one of Nicole’s wishes. But the Countess would never go against the family’s position. Victor, however, knew none of this.

“Nicole, by custom, you have one full day to prepare. However, Ogres can hasten their healing by eating flesh and blood, so I advise you to set out now. If you have not emerged after one day, we will enter the forest to kill that monster and avenge you. During this time, you will receive no assistance. Good luck.” Faced with Nicole’s insistence, Bruce granted her request.

“Thank you.” Nicole pulled her longsword from the ground, stood up, and walked toward the forest.

“Nicole! Wait!” Victor caught up from behind. Anxiety and confusion had turned to anger. He grabbed Nicole’s arm and demanded loudly, “Why are you doing this? What are you trying to prove?!”

Looking at Victor’s face, contorted with anger born of concern, Nicole gently embraced her lover and whispered in his ear, “I want to be the master of my own fate.”

With that, she took off her helmet, letting her chestnut hair fall freely. She swung her sharp longsword up from behind, severing the beautiful hair that cascaded over her shoulders. Her lovely face was instantly transformed, becoming heroically striking, possessing a breathtaking beauty.

The severed locks scattered in the wind. Nicole gave Victor a deep look, as if trying to etch her beloved’s face into her heart. With a faint smile, she turned and departed with resolute steps.

Victor stared blankly as Nicole’s slender, graceful figure disappeared into the trees, choked with silent emotion.

As dusk fell, no one in the temporary camp spoke. Only the crackling of the campfire broke the silence. The atmosphere was suffocatingly somber.

Victor paced back and forth, restless and anxious. He said loudly to Edwen.

“We have to do something!”

Victor had tried to gather men to enter the forest to help Nicole, but Bruce’s four apprentice knights had blocked him like a wall.

If a Trial of Life and Death was interrupted, it would leave the trial-taker with an indelible sense of failure, meaning their path as a Knight would be cut short forever. To the trial-taker, this was a fate more terrifying than death.

“Victor, whether as humble as a slave or as noble as a king, everyone has the right to fight against their fate. Even if it means paying a great price with no guarantee of success, this is the very source from which we create miracles,” Edwen said, looking deeply at Victor, his voice heavy yet powerful.

Suddenly, a mournful cry echoed from the forest. It was the dying wail of a Gnoll, followed immediately by howl after howl, causing everyone’s expression to change drastically.

“Dammit, that cunning Ogre has enslaved Gnolls! It set a trap long ago! This is beyond the scope of Nicole’s trial! This is a suicide mission! We have to go save her now!” Victor roared, all traces of noble etiquette thrown to the wind.

The four apprentice knights stood up and looked at Bruce anxiously, awaiting his decision.

“As Knights, we cannot interfere with a Trial of Life and Death. If Nicole can break through, she will be fine,” Bruce said, gently stroking the Adamantine halberd in his hand. If Nicole died in battle, he would use this weapon to avenge her.

Bruce’s seemingly heartless words brought a faint smile to Victor’s lips. He raised his hand, and a black shadow descended from the sky. “Caw!” it cried, landing on Victor’s arm. It was the alchemical crow, Blackfeather.

“Go.” Victor held out the lock of Nicole’s scattered hair for Blackfeather to smell. The crow immediately took to the air, circled once, cawed again, and flew toward the forest.

“As the lord, I have decided to clear out the Gnolls and monsters within my territory, starting tonight. Narsen, prepare yourself. You’re coming with me,” Victor said to Narsen with a calm and elegant smile.

“As you wish, my master,” Narsen answered in a gruff voice. It was never the style of the War Bear Mercenaries to watch a comrade walk into a desperate situation.

“Get moving, boys! Tonight, we hunt Gnolls!” Just as Narsen called for the guards to prepare to enter the forest, Victor stopped him.

“No, Narsen. Just the two of us,” Victor’s words stunned Narsen for a moment, then a look of gratitude filled his eyes.

Fighting Gnolls in a forest at night while wearing leather armor would result in casualties, even for the formidable War Bear Mercenaries. Although the War Bears did not fear sacrifice, they were still moved by their lord’s consideration.

“My lord! The War Bears know no fear!”

“My lord, you only need to wait patiently in the camp. We will not disappoint you.”

“My lord, rest assured! We have killed countless Gnolls!”

The guards’ morale was high as they all vied to join the fight.

“My lord, I can go in alone. Rescuing Miss Nicole will be no problem at all!” Narsen urged Victor in a low voice.

“I make the decisions, right?!” Victor looked directly into Narsen’s eyes. Though Narsen was trustworthy, the thought of Nicole in mortal danger meant he was unwilling to delay for even a moment.

“I have the bloodline of a Moon Elf. I can see clearly in the dark, and… I’m not just an archer.”

Victor drew the shortsword from his waist. A gentle breeze enveloped the blade, which seemed to come alive, spinning in his palm. With a slight lift of his arm, the shortsword silently sliced through a nearby sapling as thick as a bowl.

The strike was Seamless and silent, like a phantom.

After Victor, armed with two hand crossbows, had entered the forest with Narsen, one of the apprentice knights brought the severed sapling to Bruce and Edwen for inspection.

“This is a hemlock. Its wood is dense and hard. It’s not easy for an ordinary person to cut it down.”

“The cut is smooth and clean. An apprentice knight could do this with a sharp longsword and a powerful chop, but to cut it so effortlessly like Victor did… even I can’t do that. It’s truly incredible.”

“It must be the wind element gathering on his blade to create such an effect. This is already a technique akin to that of a Silver Knight. The abilities of the Moon Elf bloodline are truly astonishing. The Wimbledon family is worthy of being one of the ancient bloodline families with a heritage spanning thousands of years.”

Edwen stroked the cut surface of the hemlock, then saw Bruce stand up with his longsword and round shield. He smiled and said to him, “What? Are you going too?”

“Heh, a Knight has a responsibility to protect the safety of an allied lord, isn’t that right?” With that, Bruce strode toward the forest.

Chapter 38: Breakthrough

The sky had grown completely dark. The gloomy forest became cold and damp, and even more dangerous.

Victor and Narsen sped through the trees, one in front of the other. The dark and complex environment did nothing to slow them down, not only because Victor had dark vision, but also because the howls of fighting Gnolls in the distance clearly pinpointed their direction.

“Narsen, we’ve got company. Two on the left, forty yards. One on the right, thirty-five yards,” Victor said softly to Narsen. X-3 continuously analyzed the changes in the environment, dooming the Gnolls’ ambush to failure.

A faint breeze wrapped around the bolts Victor fired, making the sharp projectiles as fast as lightning and utterly silent. They pierced the eyes of two Gnolls, sinking straight into their brains. The two beastmen let out a single whimper each before falling to the ground, dead.

The Gnoll hiding on the right heard its companions’ dying cries and knew their ambush had been discovered. Seizing the moment while Victor reloaded his crossbow, it swung its flail and lunged forward.

Physique 12, Spirit 10, Perception 13, Life 9. As Victor reloaded his bolts, he gathered the Gnoll’s data, not the least bit worried that the powerful beastman could harm him.

Sure enough, Narsen sent the Gnoll flying with a single swing of his axe. The unlucky creature didn’t even have time to scream as it spun through the air and landed more than ten meters away.

The fight was over as soon as it began.

Victor’s high Perception and Narsen’s high Physique complemented each other perfectly in this complex, dark environment, resulting in such deadly combat effectiveness.

This was also why Victor hadn’t brought ordinary guards with him. In the dark and cramped forest, they would have only been a burden. If anyone had gotten injured, it would have slowed them down even more.

“Wait! Something’s not right up ahead.”

The two had been pressing forward without pause, but after another fifty meters, Victor pulled Narsen to a stop.

Victor frowned. He could hear the rising and falling howls of fighting Gnolls about seven hundred meters ahead, but he couldn’t hear Blackfeather’s calls.

Victor took a deep breath, activating both Super Sense and Overlimit. He focused all his attention on the source of the sound. X-3 filtered out the irrelevant audio signals one by one, and soon, Victor caught the sound of Blackfeather’s cry. It was one thousand two hundred meters to their left and getting closer. The alchemical crow was clearly approaching them rapidly.

“It’s a trap up ahead! We go left.”

Every second counted, so Victor had to explain to Narsen as they moved.

“In the Gnoll cries up ahead, I didn’t hear the clash of weapons, nor did I hear Blackfeather. It must be a trap. I just used my special ability and heard Blackfeather in this direction, about twelve hundred yards away. Nicole should be over there!”

It was indeed a trap set by Gorash. He had ordered his Gnoll slaves to howl there to lure away the humans hunting him. Unfortunately, the cunning Old Ogre didn’t know that Victor’s Perception was even keener than a Knight’s, and his clever plan came to nothing.

“My lord, if we head one thousand two hundred yards in this direction, the Gnolls setting the trap will be able to attack us from behind.”

Narsen frowned. A frontal assault was one thing, but if they were caught in a pincer attack, the lord would be in danger.

“My lord, you are remarkably skilled, but if we are attacked from both front and rear, I fear I’ll have a hard time guaranteeing your safety. It would be best if you went back to get reinforcements. I will go on alone to support Miss Nicole,” Narsen said, hoping Victor would abandon this risky move. Nicole had to be saved, of course, but the lord’s life was far more important.

“We already have reinforcements!”

Victor said with a smile as he hurried onward, “I just sensed that Bruce the Knight is right behind us.”

“That’s wonderful! Why don’t we go back and rendezvous with him?” Narsen was overjoyed, stopping to make the suggestion to Victor.

Narsen was delighted to hear that powerful support was nearby, but they had already seen through the trap and changed course. Bruce, however, would likely not be so fortunate.

“Bruce values noble etiquette and the knightly code. He won’t show himself unless absolutely necessary. Besides, whether he falls into the Gnoll trap or follows along to protect us, the problem you were just worried about is solved, isn’t it?” Victor’s heart was burning with anxiety; there was no way he would turn back to meet up with Bruce now.

Seeing that Victor’s mind was made up, Narsen said no more, hefting his two battle-axes and clearing a path ahead.

A short while later, they saw Blackfeather flying toward them. Upon seeing Victor, Blackfeather let out a loud “Caw!” and began to dance in the air before him, swooping up and down.

“Nicole is just ahead. Besides the Old Ogre, there are four Gnolls hiding there. Let’s hurry,” Victor said, having understood the meaning of Blackfeather’s movements.

Just as the two followed Blackfeather’s lead, the constantly howling Gnolls suddenly fell silent. The howls were then replaced by miserable wails.

Victor and Narsen exchanged a look. It seemed Bruce had indeed stumbled into the trap and was now wreaking havoc.

With no time to mourn the unlucky Gnolls, the two pushed forward several hundred more meters. Finally, even Narsen could hear the sounds of fighting up ahead.

Four powerful Gnolls blocked their path. Victor’s pupils constricted. Among the four, one was exceptionally large—clearly a Savage Gnoll.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Victor activated Overlimit, Super Sense, and Seamless, entering the Apocalypse state. Everything around him slowed down, appearing with absolute clarity in his mind.

Victor raised the two small crossbows in his hands. Two bolts flashed through the air and flew toward the Savage Gnoll’s eyes. Unfortunately, it was a monster in a Savage state after all. It managed to clamp its eyelids shut just in time to catch the bolts, avoiding instant death.

Suddenly blinded, the Gnoll was both furious and terrified. All it could do now was roar loudly, swinging its claws wildly and futilely at its surroundings. Under its terrifying strength, trees as thick as a bowl snapped with a single swipe.

Just like that, this Savage Gnoll, a creature that could have rivaled Narsen, was crippled by Victor with a single careless mistake on its part.

A breeze swirled around Victor’s body, and he swept forward like the wind. A Gnoll swung its flail at him with all its might but hit only empty air. A moment later, it felt a cold sensation in its side. Looking down, it saw blood gushing from its body. With a final wail, the Gnoll collapsed. Just moments before, Victor’s shortsword had slipped between its ribs and sliced its heart in two.

In an instant, of the four Gnolls, one was dead and another crippled. Victor, meanwhile, had vanished into the thicket ahead like a wisp of smoke.

The remaining Gnolls looked around in bewilderment, trying to locate the phantom-like human. A fierce roar snapped them out of it. Another human warrior—a burly man wielding two axes, his eyes bloodshot—charged toward them.

Nicole was once again sent flying by a heavy blow from Gorash. She staggered backward and fell to one knee, panting heavily. The round shield on her left arm, already misshapen, was now completely destroyed. Her left arm was numb; the bone was likely fractured.

Am I going to die?

As she circulated her Aura, the two fire Elemental Nodes remained stubbornly still, and a wave of despair washed over her.

Nicole had not expected the heavily injured Gorash to be so ferocious.

She had initially followed the Old Ogre’s trail of blood, but the creature seemed to sense her presence. It led her in circles until she was drawn to this spot.

Only then did Nicole realize she had been surrounded by Gorash and several Gnolls. The hunter had become the prey.

After Nicole killed two of the Gnolls, the Old Ogre spoke a few words in the Gnoll tongue to the others. The Gnolls then dispersed, and the Old Ogre began to attack her personally.

The moment they clashed, Nicole understood that the Old Ogre was far more terrifying than she had imagined. Even with one arm missing, it was more than she could handle. In its hand, the heavy wooden club felt as light as a straw. Its powerful, heavy blows were delivered with exquisite precision, leaving no openings. It kept her firmly at bay, preventing her from getting into an effective attack range and forcing her onto the defensive.

Gorash swung its heavy club and sent Nicole staggering back once more. If the Old Ogre hadn’t seemed to be wary of something, she would have been killed long ago.

The crow that had been circling and screeching overhead was gone now. Nicole knew it was Victor’s pet, Blackfeather.

It must have gone to report my death to Victor, Nicole thought bleakly.

Gorash carefully observed Nicole’s movements. He was now certain that this human female had no fight left in her. She was about to become his late-night snack.

At this thought, Gorash’s foul-smelling saliva dripped from its chin to the ground. The fight with Bruce had not only cost it an arm but had also made it vomit up the contents of its stomach. It desperately needed to eat.

After I recover, I’ll make sure to eat Scarface, too! Gorash thought viciously.

When Gorash had first lured the human female warrior here, he had ordered his Gnoll slaves to finish her off. But after two of them died, the other Gnoll slaves, at the subtle suggestion of their former chief, Scarface, began to hang back.

Gorash knew Scarface was testing him. If he couldn’t display his usual strength, this Savage Gnoll would lead his subordinates to turn their master into dinner.

Gnolls were never a benevolent race. When dealing with them, one had to be ever-vigilant against their treachery.

So Gorash had to act himself. And when he demonstrated his overwhelming superiority against Nicole, the glint in the Gnolls’ eyes was replaced by reverence once more.

To prevent these greedy, savage creatures from trying to steal his food, Gorash had sent them all to the perimeter to stand guard.

The Old Ogre walked toward the female apprentice knight kneeling on the ground. It was puzzled as to why the humans had sent only a single female warrior to hunt it down. The crow that had been circling overhead also made it uneasy. For this reason, it hadn’t killed Nicole immediately, instead remaining wary of its surroundings, thinking this might be a trap.

Gorash prepared to end Nicole’s life. Just as it raised its club high to smash down on the human female, it suddenly heard Scarface’s scream. Its expression changed drastically. A split second later, a sharp pain shot through its left eye, and it let out a howl of agony. Then, Gorash saw the human noble standing twenty meters away, reloading a small crossbow.

Gorash’s instincts screamed at it: it could not let this noble finish reloading. It decisively abandoned killing Nicole and, swinging its club with a vicious gust of wind, lunged toward Victor.

Victor broke through the Gnoll blockade and passed through a thicket, only to see a sight that made his soul nearly leave his body. He had no time to load his other crossbow; he simply fired the single bolt he had just loaded at the Old Ogre.

The bolt shot forward like a bolt of lightning, blinding the Old Ogre’s left eye. But the monster gave Victor no more time, charging straight at him, its club raining down on his head.

In his Apocalypse state, Victor deftly dodged Gorash’s frenzied attacks. The storm of blows from the club couldn’t touch him, which only made Gorash more frantic. It roared, swinging its club desperately, kicking up clouds of dirt and debris that obscured both of their figures.

“No!”

Nicole’s eyes looked ready to pop from their sockets. She couldn’t see Victor’s situation at all. Despair and agony flooded Nicole’s heart. Tears mixed with blood streamed from the corners of her eyes. The intense emotions drove her Aura into a frenzy, and the fire Elemental Nodes, once stubbornly still, finally sang out in a belated resonance.

The four great elements rejoiced, gathering around Nicole and granting her unparalleled power in that instant.

Like an arrow loosed from a bowstring, Nicole shot toward Gorash. Her gleaming longsword descended toward the Old Ogre’s neck with a piercing shriek.

With a hiss, the Old Ogre’s ugly head was severed from its neck. Its face was still frozen in a look of crazed ferocity. Nicole kicked the headless corpse several meters away, and only then did dark red blood spurt from the severed neck, forming a small pool on the ground.

Victor exited the Apocalypse state, not a speck of dust on him. He gave a small smile to Nicole, who was staring at him in a daze. He was about to speak when she threw her arms around him in a tight embrace.

Narsen, having finished off all his opponents, rushed over. Seeing the scene, he quietly retreated.

Bruce sheathed his longsword and let out a long breath.

The moment Nicole erupted with power, Bruce had sensed the surge of elements from over a thousand meters away. He knew Nicole had become a true Knight.

However, looking at the dozen or so Gnoll corpses scattered around him, Bruce frowned and couldn’t help but let out a curse.

“Damn it.”

Chapter 39: Fanning the Flames of Ambition

The gentle afternoon sun warmed the body, making one drowsy. At the main gate of Victor’s camp, several guards paced back and forth out of sheer boredom, as if trying to ward off the encroaching waves of sleepiness.

Yesterday, Lord Bruce, Captain Narsen, and Lady Nicole had returned in triumph, bringing with them the corpse of an Ogre. This had sent the entire camp into a frenzy of celebration. The bonfire feast had lasted late into the night, and they had drunk five entire barrels of Purple Cane wine. As a result, most people were still sleeping it off, but these unlucky guards had to remain at their posts, bound by duty.

The neighing of draft horses from down the slope caught the guards’ attention. Just as they were about to raise their crossbows and assume a defensive posture, the watchman in the tower shouted loudly, “It’s a convoy! Our convoy!”

Several carts laden with goods rumbled slowly toward the camp. Leading the procession was none other than Moline, one of Victor’s group leaders.

Most of the people in the convoy were cheerful and in high spirits. Only one old farmer, with a pained expression on his bruised and swollen face, trudged along behind the carts, making his way toward the camp.

“Group Leader Moline, what goods have you brought back this time?” one of the guards asked with a grin as the convoy arrived at the gate.

“Oh, this is all tribute from Flatlake Village for the lord. And this is the esteemed Village Head of Flatlake Village, Master Dick,” Moline said, grabbing the old farmer’s arm and introducing him to the guard with a teasing tone. Victor had already renamed Bayr’s camp Flatlake Village.

“So, he’s a Village Head, is he?” The guard glanced sideways at Dick, his expression utterly devoid of respect.

“Yes, yes… oh, no, no, not a master,” Dick stammered, unsure whether to accept the title or deny it. He could only bow and scrape repeatedly, which, combined with his bruised face, made for a rather pathetic sight.

“Go on in!” The guard waved a dismissive hand. Victor’s subjects all looked down on the freemen of the territory, even though Victor had already approved granting them the status of subjects.

So what if you’re a village head? I’m a future vassal, the guard thought proudly. Although he wasn’t a vassal yet, within a year, the work points he’d earn would be enough to exchange for a small fief where he would only have to pay a fifty percent tax on his harvest.

Dick timidly followed Moline onto the nine-meter-long drawbridge, which spanned a moat six meters wide and five meters deep. On the steep banks of the moat, all the taller trees had been felled, leaving only low-lying shrubs and thorns.

Dick looked up at the four watchtowers standing behind the eight-meter-high palisade. He saw soldiers on duty holding powerful crossbows, their gazes fixed coldly on him, and he couldn’t help but shrink back.

In fact, there were six such watchtowers in total. Two stood on either side of the main gate, allowing the soldiers within to rain down crossbow bolts or heavy military crossbow fire on any enemies across the moat.

The other two watchtowers were on the sides of the camp, facing steep slopes from which an enemy attack was nearly impossible. These two towers served mainly as observation posts to monitor any activity at the foot of the hill.

“Let’s go, Village Head Dick. The lord is waiting inside,” Moline said, inwardly pleased to see Dick’s fearful expression. After all, this camp had been built based on his suggestions to Victor.

The terrain was perilous and easy to defend, and the four main watchtowers alone were enough to inspire awe and fear.

As Dick followed Moline into the camp, he realized it was far larger than Bayr’s. Not only were there rows of houses, storehouses, and animal pens, but there was also a large vegetable patch. It was filled with several types of vegetables that only grew in the Season of Water, such as redleaf, round melons, and mustard greens.

Next to the patch was a small stream and a ten-meter-square pond. The clear stream water flowed through a man-made channel into the pond, then continued through another channel that irrigated the entire vegetable patch before flowing out of the camp through a drainage hole.

Several farmers were busy in the fields. They harvested the round melons and redleaf, loading them onto a wheelbarrow and hauling them to a low-roofed shed. With loud shouts, they dumped the vegetables into an enclosure.

“Group Leader Moline, what are they doing?” Dick asked curiously.

“Oh, that’s for feeding the ground lizards,” Moline explained impatiently.

Ground lizards were a unique omnivorous lizard from the Centaur Hills. They were large, with a full-grown adult weighing up to 7.5 kilograms, and their meat was tender and delicious. Under conditions of ample food, they grew very quickly and were prolific egg-layers. Thus, on Master Edwin’s advice, Victor had his subjects attempt to raise them. After more than a month of trial and error, the farmers had gradually mastered the knack of raising ground lizards, and the lizard farm could now provide a stable supply of eggs to the camp.

“Come on, stop staring,” Moline said, pulling Dick toward the part of the camp on the summit.

“Wait, I need to relieve myself first,” Dick said, pulling free from Moline’s grasp. He ran toward a corner of the palisade, his bladder weak with nervousness at the thought of meeting the lord.

“Hey! Hey! Stop! Do you want a whipping? There’s a latrine over there!” Moline was shocked by Dick’s actions. He quickly grabbed him and pointed to two thatched huts on the other side of the vegetable patch.

It was only then that Dick noticed how different this place was from the foul-smelling camp he lived in. This camp was remarkably clean and tidy, with no excrement or wastewater on the ground.

Victor paid great attention to the camp’s hygiene, strictly forbidding his subjects from defecating or urinating wherever they pleased. He had several latrines built around the camp, and for those who broke the rules, he was not shy about using a whip to help them break their bad habits.

After Dick had taken care of his personal business in the latrine, Moline led him to the irrigation channel by the vegetable patch. “Wash your hands here,” he instructed. “Remember, you can’t touch the water in the upstream channel. The water in the pond is for drinking, and this water here is for cleaning. Don’t get them mixed up, or you’ll be asking for a lashing.”

“The rules here are so strict,” Dick said meekly.

“Hmph! What do you know? This is called hygiene, understand? The lord himself designed this irrigation system, and Master Edwin, the Spire Scholar, also said that doing things this way makes people less likely to get sick.” Moline was utterly contemptuous of the village head’s ignorance.

“Nicole, does your arm still hurt?”

In an exquisite wooden house on the summit platform, Victor was diligently changing Nicole’s bandage. His movements were gentle and precise, filling Nicole with a sense of warmth.

Nicole didn’t speak, simply shaking her head gently. The shyness in her beautiful eyes was gone, replaced by a gaze full of tenderness and a hint of a smile.

“Nicole, you’re a Knight now. What are your plans for the future?” Victor asked with a smile.

“According to tradition, Lady Sylvia will give me a new name and surname, and my mother will receive the title of ‘Lady’ within the family. As for what comes after… I don’t know…” Nicole’s face was alight with joy as she spoke, but her expression dimmed at the thought of eventually having to leave Victor.

Even though Nicole had successfully advanced to become a Knight, there was no future for her and Victor. At most, she could only be his lover.

“I mean, when are you all planning to investigate the Great Marsh?” Victor quickly changed the subject, the sudden, somber atmosphere making his chest feel tight.

“Mm, in the next day or two, we’ll be setting out,” Nicole said, smiling at Victor. She tacitly went along with the change, not lingering on the previous sadness.

“What about your injury?” Victor frowned. As the saying goes, a hundred days are needed to heal muscles and bones. Nicole had suffered a minor fracture in her left arm during her fight with the Old Ogre and needed to rest.

“It’s nothing. With a Knight’s constitution, a small injury like this will heal in five days. And since I have a special affinity for the water element, if I circulate my Aura frequently, I can recover in three.” A Knight who could resonate with the elements had a recovery speed far exceeding that of an ordinary person. At the thought that she had become a true Knight, a captivating curve formed on Nicole’s lips.

Just as Victor was about to say something more, Lilia’s clear voice came from outside.

“My lord, Dick, the village head of Flatlake Village, is waiting outside for an audience.”

“Let him in.”

The petite Lilia entered, leading a timid, shrinking Dick. When Lilia saw Nicole sitting beside Victor, an envious look crossed her face.

“Good day, Knight Nicole,” Lilia said, curtsying to her. Normally, Lilia would call her “Sister Nicole,” but now that Nicole was an exalted Knight and there was an outsider present, she addressed her as “My Lady.”

“Little Sister Lilia, there’s no need for such formality,” Nicole replied with a smile.

Perhaps because of her mother’s humble status, Nicole was often stern with other men, but she was much friendlier toward other women. She was particularly fond of the sweet and enthusiastic Lilia, and they usually addressed each other as sisters.

“Good day, my Lord. Good day, my Lady Knight,” Old Dick said, bowing hastily as he saw the two important figures staring at him.

“Lilia, has the tribute from Flatlake Village been put into storage?” Victor nodded at Dick but directed his question to Lilia.

“The tribute from Flatlake Village has been stored. It includes eighty logs of Iron-oak, one hundred and twenty logs of Hemlock, seven hundred pounds of dried fish, seven hundred pounds of cured meat, forty-seven animal hides, one hundred pounds of various dried mushrooms, and two wild boars totaling two thousand pounds.”

If Lilia were wearing a white blouse, a pencil skirt, and black high heels, she’d be the very image of a beautiful secretary, Victor couldn’t help but think as he watched her stand before him, reporting in her melodious voice.

Victor had been personally training Lilia in handling the camp’s affairs, even teaching her some bookkeeping methods and financial knowledge. Now, Lilia could manage the camp’s business in an orderly fashion according to Victor’s requirements, already displaying some of the flair of a modern assistant.

However, everyone else in the camp believed that Victor was going to take Lilia as his personal maid. Some had even started calling her “My Lady.” Narsen thought so as well, which was why he no longer objected to Lilia’s contact with Victor.

Victor was incensed by this universal misunderstanding.

In truth, I really just wanted an assistant. I chose Lilia because she can read, she’s smart, young, and eager to learn. And of course, she’s pretty… well, alright, a personal maid wouldn’t be so bad either.

“Why is the tribute so small?” Victor looked at Village Head Dick, the man he had appointed, with a playful glint in his eyes.

“My lord, besides the rations we kept for ourselves, this is all the village has,” Dick said, his face a mask of misery.

“Is that so? Then it seems life in Flatlake Village is not easy! I once said that villagers were welcome to come and settle in this camp. Why has no one come? Did you not convey my intentions to the villagers?” Victor stared at Dick, his voice cold.

“Well, my lord, the villagers are used to living over there. There was nothing I could do,” Dick stammered, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead under Victor’s questioning gaze.

“Oh, is that so? By the way, Village Head Dick, why is your face swollen? Did someone hit you?” Victor asked, feigning surprise.

“No, no, I fell! I fell…” Dick covered his bruised cheek with his hand, answering Victor in a panic.

“Alright, if there’s nothing else, you may go,” Victor said, tapping the table as a sign of dismissal.

“My lord, I don’t want to go back! I want to stay in this camp!” Hearing Victor send him away, Dick instantly fell to his knees and pleaded tearfully.

Dick had had a very difficult few days. At first, he had tried to put on the airs of a village head, only to be soundly beaten by Mark and his men. Bayr had turned a blind eye to it all. The freemen who had originally intended to curry favor with the new village head immediately distanced themselves from him, making his life unbearable.

“Dick, I am very disappointed in you! I, Baron Victor Wimbledon, am the master of this land. As the village head I appointed, you must swear your allegiance to me and prove your ability. If you are useless, then get back to being a freeman. I imagine Bayr would not hesitate to kill a freeman,” Victor said, feeling no sympathy after hearing Dick’s tearful account. He had to make Dick understand his current predicament.

“My lord, I beg you, don’t abandon me!” Victor’s cold words made Dick tremble with fear.

“Do you still not understand? As my village head, they might beat you, but they won’t dare to kill you. If you back down to them, you’ll only end up dying mysteriously.”

“Then… what should I do?” Dick was now completely at a loss.

“Go back to Flatlake Village. No matter how they humiliate or beat you, you must not yield. You must rebuke them loudly and rally the support of the other villagers. It will be a difficult process, but you must persevere, because you have no other choice.” Victor needed Dick to be his voice in Flatlake Village, so he had to give him some support.

“Just yesterday, my forces annihilated a bandit tribe of Ogres and Gnolls. Today, you will take a good bath in this camp and get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow, I will have someone give you a change of clothes and dispatch guards to accompany you to Flatlake Village with the Ogre’s head for display. You are to loudly proclaim my achievements to those villagers, but do not try to provoke Bayr and his group. The time is not yet right.”

“Furthermore, in light of your loyalty, I will remit ten percent of Flatlake Village’s tribute. You can take back one-tenth of the supplies you brought. I suggest you distribute these supplies in your own name to the old, the weak, the women, and the children. Remember, do not try to buy the loyalty of the able-bodied men. That will only get you killed faster.”

“Do a good job! If you perform well, I will consider making you my vassal and rewarding your family with land.”

Dick was a village head Victor had appointed on a whim; he possessed no outstanding abilities himself, so Victor had to be more detailed in his instructions.

Watching the old farmer, who had just been so dejected and miserable, now take his leave from Victor as if he’d been given a shot of adrenaline, Nicole couldn’t help but ask with some unease, “Will he succeed, this Dick?”

“If he’s smart enough, there’s a good chance of breaking up that camp of freemen,” Victor said with a confident smile.

“What if that Bayr kills him?” Nicole knew that Bruce had decided not to interfere with the freemen on Victor’s territory anymore, and she worried about the situation Victor would face after they left.

“Then I will appoint another village head from among the freemen of Flatlake Village. I’d like to see just how many village heads that Bayr can kill!”

Victor’s eyes held a complex look. He knew, of course, that encouraging a village head with no foundation to vie for power with Bayr was tantamount to sending him to his death. But if Bayr did resort to the brutal measure of killing Dick, Victor wouldn’t suffer any loss. He would simply continue to appoint village heads in Flatlake Village. Bayr, on the other hand, could not go on killing indefinitely, as it would cost him the support of the freemen.

Victor sighed. Since he had given up on a bloody purge of that camp, he could only dismantle it by instigating internal conflict in Flatlake Village.

Ambition can only be fought with ambition.

Chapter 40: Moving Forward

The Goldwater River flowed slowly from west to east, unchanging for tens of millions of years.

No one knew where the Goldwater River began, but no one would deny that it was the largest river in the human world. It emerged from the Endless Forest, flowing eastward for tens of thousands of kilometers before finally emptying into the vast ocean.

The Goldwater River divided the continent in two. To the north lay the civilized lands where humanity thrived; to the south was a barren wilderness where barbarians and beastmen roamed. The river, several kilometers wide, formed a natural barrier between human civilization and the lands of the beastmen.

Victor stood on a high slope, looking down at the Goldwater River, which was more than ten kilometers wide, and was struck by its majestic power.

“Magnificent, isn’t it? A shame there’s no sun today. Otherwise, you’d know why they call it the Goldwater River.” Edwen couldn’t help but smile when he saw Victor’s mesmerized expression.

“It is. This is the first time I’ve ever seen this great river. I’ve heard that in the morning and evening, the sun’s reflection makes the surface glitter with golden light—a truly magnificent spectacle,” Victor sighed with admiration.

“Yes, you’ll have plenty of opportunities to admire the scenery of the Goldwater River in the future,” Edwen said with a nod.

Victor’s domain was adjacent to the Goldwater River. He could easily build a holiday manor here and come to gaze upon the river’s scenery whenever he pleased.

A northern wind blew past. Victor tightened his cloak and turned to say, “Master, with weather like this, it looks like it’s about to snow. Perhaps you should reconsider entering the Great Marsh for your survey and go at another time?”

“Snowy weather is actually the best time to enter the Great Marsh.” Edwen shook his head and explained to Victor, “The snow makes the paths difficult to travel, but it also freezes the ground of the marsh solid. Most importantly, the majority of the monsters in the Great Marsh will be hiding in their dens, which greatly reduces the risk for us.”

“The small stove and sled-cart you designed are convenient and practical, Victor. They’ve saved us a lot of trouble. You’ve had one ingenious idea after another on this journey. I really don’t know how someone so young can know so many interesting things.” Edwen smiled at Victor, but there seemed to be a hidden meaning in his expression.

“I’m just used to my comforts. This is the first time I’ve traveled so far, and I wanted to make myself a little more comfortable, so I tinkered with a few small things,” Victor said nonchalantly, brushing off the old scholar’s probing question.

The camp stove Victor designed was small, light, and easy to carry. Lighting some charcoal inside could make a tent as warm as spring, and you could even boil soup on it, making it perfectly suited for the Great Marsh, where dry firewood was scarce. As for the sled-cart he designed, it was because wagons couldn’t traverse the Great Marsh, meaning supplies had to be carried on people’s backs. Victor had specifically asked the carpenters in his camp to build two small carts with interchangeable skis and wheels.

Of course, the carts had to be pulled by people, but Bruce’s elite soldiers had plenty of strength. Pulling two small carts was no problem for them at all.

After learning that Edwen was about to head to the Great Marsh for his survey and that Nicole would be accompanying him, Victor had thoughtfully designed the camp stove and small sled-cart for them.

In truth, he was mostly concerned about Nicole.

“Are those Fishmen?!” Victor’s sharp eyes spotted several fish-headed, human-bodied monsters wandering around on the riverbank.

Edwen craned his neck, squinting his eyes, but no matter how hard he tried, all he could see were a few small black dots scurrying about on the riverbank.

“They must be Fishmen. Only those disgusting, stupid creatures like to wander around the banks of the Goldwater River like that.” Edwen shook his head, feeling nothing but envy for the extraordinary vision of a Moon Elf noble.

Fishmen are a species of aquatic beastmen. They are short in stature, resembling a mix of fish and frogs. Their natural scales are both dense and slippery, providing decent defensive capabilities, and their wide mouths are filled with terrifyingly sharp teeth. In reality, however, Fishmen are omnivorous beastmen. They sometimes even eat the sludge from the river to supplement their salt intake.

Fishmen primarily live along riverbanks and coastlines. They are extremely territorial and hostile toward any land creatures that intrude upon their territory, which they will attack relentlessly. However, when they realize they are no match for their opponents, they will flee back into the water, gather more of their kind, and then continue attacking the intruders until they are either killed or driven away.

These beastmen are exceptionally stupid. Although they fear death, they are completely incapable of remembering the sensations of fear and pain, a trait that makes their behavior extremely stubborn. For this reason, some Spire Scholars argue that Fishmen cannot be considered a sapient species at all, even though they can use simple tools and exhibit a degree of social structure.

“It’s not strange for there to be Fishmen in your domain. The banks of the Goldwater River are teeming with these annoying little monsters. As long as your people don’t go near the riverbank, there won’t be any trouble. In truth, they are the real lords of the Goldwater River’s banks,” Edwen said helplessly, patting Victor’s shoulder.

It was precisely because of this mindless and stubborn race of Fishmen that humans were unable to develop fishing or shipping on the Goldwater River.

“Master Edwen, Victor, everyone is ready. Can we set off now?”

A clear, pleasant voice came from behind them. Victor turned to see Nicole the Knight standing there, pretty and smiling. His heart warmed instantly. He walked over, took the female knight’s slender hand, and said, “Alright, let’s go.”

A faint blush rose on Nicole’s pretty face, but she walked away side-by-side with Victor without any coyness, completely forgetting about Edwen who they left behind.

Edwen stared, dumbfounded, at the two of them, acting lovey-dovey as if no one else was around. He opened his mouth to speak but ended up just shaking his head with a wry smile, his eyes filled with both gratification and a hint of regret.

Although Nicole had successfully been promoted to Knight, her future with Victor was still uncertain. As a knight of the York family, she would have to return to Black Fortress once this mission was over. And Victor, despite being a lord, had a legitimate wife—a wife who was powerful, influential, and of noble status. This might be the last time they had together, which was why Victor and Nicole were less reserved and more passionate than before.

People in love always wish for time to slow down, yet time, like the waters of the Goldwater River, flows on without end.

After a two-day trek, the group finally arrived at the entrance to the Great Marsh.

The Great Marsh was a mysterious region few humans ever set foot in. Humanity knew very little about it. The last recorded exploration had been fifteen hundred years ago, when the Radiant Church’s legendary paladin, Fahirsild, led several dozen elite Inquisition warriors into the Great Marsh to hunt down the remnants of the Pantheon. In the end, Fahirsild emerged from the Great Marsh with a team of less than ten survivors.

Although the Radiant Church was extremely secretive about Fahirsild’s experience, rumors about the Lizardmen tribes in the Great Marsh, as well as the possible presence of the super-rank magical beast, the Hydra Lizard, still spread throughout the human world.

The Great Marsh also came to be known as the Lizard Marsh.

“Bruce, are you sure you don’t need me to arrange for some men to enter the Lizard Marsh with you?” Victor asked the knight, who was busy inspecting his equipment.

“We really don’t. Master Edwen will only be exploring the outer edges of the marsh to collect some specimens, so it won’t take long. Besides, once we’re in the Lizard Marsh, your own forces will be a bit thin. You’ll need to be extra careful during this time, Victor.” Bruce politely declined Victor’s offer. In reality, Victor’s militia would only slow them down.

Bruce’s words brought a shadow of gloom to Victor’s eyes.

Ever since killing Gorash, Victor had sent his guards to parade the Old Ogre’s head through the freemen’s camps in his domain.

At first, the effect was excellent. Seeing the ogre’s head held high on a spear by the lord’s guards, the freemen chiefs grew fearful and no longer dared to openly stop their people from pledging fealty to Victor. Even Bayr had become much more obedient, and Old Dick had even seized the opportunity to rally a group of supporters.

Over the past few days, more than thirty freemen had successively joined Victor’s camp. Victor was very pleased with this, because with the cover provided by the freemen, he would soon be able to create Alchemical auxiliary soldiers and Alchemical militia.

However, something unexpected had happened a few days ago.

Iron Hammer, one of Narsen’s men, was leading a patrol mission when he was shot through the thigh with an arrow outside a freemen camp in the eastern part of the domain.

That camp was the other large settlement of freemen besides Flatlake Village, with about two hundred people living there. According to the freemen who had come over to Victor’s side, this group never interacted with other freemen and would mercilessly kill any outsider who approached their camp.

The members of the smaller freemen camps had even once thought they were a gang of vicious bandits. However, there were no reports of this group ever proactively attacking other camps; they seemed to only care about their own territory. Thus, the rumors about them being bandits gradually died down in the domain, but all freemen were warned to never go near that eastern camp!

But these people had actually ignored the status of the lord’s guards, ignored the ogre’s head displayed on the spear, and shot Iron Hammer’s thigh clean through with an arrow from over seventy meters away.

Afterward, Victor and Narsen examined the long arrow. It was made entirely from a sharpened piece of Hemlock wood. To injure Iron Hammer with such an arrow was a very clear warning.

The shaft of this arrow was very long, meaning it couldn’t have been fired from a weapon like a crossbow; it must have been an arrow for a longbow. Yet, even the arrowhead was carved from wood, making it relatively light. An ordinary person would find it difficult to shoot it over seventy meters with such astonishing accuracy. It was clear that the person who shot Iron Hammer was a powerful individual.

The freemen camp in the east never interacted with other camps, so how did they resupply?

Why did they kill strangers who approached their camp?

How did a camp with no outside contact know Iron Hammer’s identity? Otherwise, why didn’t they just shoot to kill?

Why did they disregard the lord’s authority and goodwill just to injure Iron Hammer?

All these questions indicated that this so-called freemen camp was full of mysteries and peculiarities. After discussing it, Victor and Narsen decided to hold their ground for the time being. The date for Edwen’s survey of the Great Marsh was approaching, and Bruce had also stated clearly that he would no longer interfere with the issue of the freemen in Victor’s domain.

Victor had no complaints about this. The decision to absorb the freemen was his as a lord, and he had to bear the consequences. He secretly produced five alchemical crows and set them to monitor and spy on that camp around the clock. Victor believed that after he returned to his base, that arrogant group of freemen would have no secrets left to hide.

With the Alchemy Tower at his disposal, Victor was confident he could handle this problem, even without Bruce’s help.

“Bruce, you’re right. However, I will arrange for some men to build a temporary camp here to provide you with logistical support. I hope you can leave one apprentice knight behind to be stationed here with my men,” Victor said to Bruce, shaking the various thoughts from his mind.

Bruce accepted Victor’s suggestion.

Watching Edwen, Bruce, and Nicole’s group resolutely step into the deep and unpredictable Great Marsh, Blackfeather circled once above Victor’s head, let out a “caw,” and flew after the party. It would help Edwen explore this strange new world.

Victor extended a slender hand, and a snowflake silently landed in his palm.

It was snowing.

Feeling the coolness of the melting snowflake, Victor suppressed his reluctance and melancholy and asked Narsen, “Narsen, do you know why Master Edwen, at his age, would still venture into the Great Marsh?”

Narsen scratched his head, equally perplexed.

Edwen held a respected position and had no need to struggle for a living, yet here he was, braving the wind and snow to explore the dangerous Great Marsh. What was he after?

“Only by moving forward can one avoid extinction,” Victor said softly, as if to himself.

The humans of his previous world, over millions of years, had climbed to the pinnacle of the Earth with their frail bodies. Countless powerful species had been wiped out during that time. The reason humanity was able to tread upon their powerful competitors was because they had always moved forward, never stopping.

But the humans of this other world still had many powerful rivals. Yet, they also had pioneers like Edwen and trailblazers like Victor.

Victor swung himself onto his horse and said to a completely baffled Narsen, “Let’s go. We’re heading home!”

Like Edwen, he too had a long road ahead of him.

Chapter 41: Alchemical Auxiliary Soldier

Standing before Victor was a solidly built man in the prime of his life. His face was plain, his expression wooden, and he was dressed in a linen shirt and a leather jerkin—the perfect image of an ordinary farmer.

However, Victor could still observe a few unusual details. First, the man’s muscles were corded but perfectly symmetrical, showing none of the characteristics that came from long-term labor. A blacksmith, for instance, would always have one arm that was significantly thicker.

Second, his skin was exceptionally rough, as if his entire body was covered in a layer of calluses. Victor believed that even if this man were to crawl through a thorn bush, he wouldn’t come out with many scratches.

Finally, the man’s bones were large. His joints were a full size bigger than an ordinary person’s, which meant his carrying capacity was far greater.

That’s right. This was an Alchemical Auxiliary Soldier with a Physique of 10, Spirit of 7, Perception of 7, and Life of 3.

After returning from the entrance to the Great Marsh, Victor had specifically arranged for Narsen to lead his men on a patrol of the entire territory. Once the War Bear Mercenaries were out of the way, he had secretly produced his first alchemical human in the cave.

The entire manufacturing process took nearly ten hours. By the time the alchemical human opened his eyes, the sky was just beginning to lighten. Naturally, the newly created alchemical human was unclothed, but fortunately, the cave was well-stocked with supplies, and Victor had already prepared clothes for him.

At Victor’s command, the Alchemical Auxiliary Soldier dressed himself neatly. His movements were fluid and natural, without a trace of mechanical stiffness; he was just like an ordinary person.

Victor breathed a sigh of relief. He had been worried that the alchemical humans he created would be noticeably different from ordinary people, making it impossible to hide them among his subjects.

“What is your name?” Victor asked, testing the alchemical human’s intelligence.

“Master, my name is Busuo,” the Alchemical Auxiliary Soldier replied with a bow.

The auxiliary soldier’s natural voice filled Victor with joy. His movements were natural, his voice was natural—this alchemical human’s behavior was completely identical to that of an ordinary person. Victor was extremely satisfied. He had expected the auxiliary soldier’s intelligence to be low, preventing normal conversation. He had even been prepared to have the auxiliary soldier pretend to be a mute before integrating him among the common subjects.

Right now, Victor’s biggest problem was his small population. Alchemical humans who could smoothly blend in with his subjects would significantly boost the camp’s manpower.

“Busuo? Where did your name come from?” Victor asked curiously.

“Master, my name originates from my Will Side,” Busuo answered respectfully.

“So you’re well aware of your origins, then?” Victor was quite surprised by Busuo’s calm reply. It seemed this alchemical human was perfectly clear about his own identity.

“Master, I am Busuo, an Alchemical Auxiliary Soldier of the 19th Corps of the Néier Empire. Your will is my mission,” Busuo’s response was firm and powerful.

“Alright. In that case, Busuo, please tell me about your abilities,” Victor said, rubbing his forehead, feeling a little helpless. Something about this felt strange.

When a person learns they are actually a manufactured tool, shouldn’t they be terrified, angry, and on the verge of collapse? Why did this Busuo act as if it was all a matter of course?

Actually, you’ve just watched too many movies! That was how the King answered him later.

“Master, I have been loaded with three skills: planting, forging, and construction.” Seeing Victor gesture for him to continue, Busuo explained in detail, “First is planting. I have mastered the cultivation and nurturing methods for eighty-three types of crops. I can identify one thousand and seventy-seven species of plants, understand the habits of the vast majority of animals on the continent, and can domesticate and raise some of them. I also have fishing and hunting skills.”

“Regarding forging, I can craft all kinds of standard-issue weapons and armor of the Empire. I can also identify twenty-seven types of ore and am able to forge Mithril equipment, Adamantine equipment, and Thorium equipment.” As he said this, Busuo pointed to the pile of soft silver ore in the corner.

“Wait! What did you call this?” Victor quickly interrupted Busuo’s introduction, pointing at the soft silver ore.

“Master, this is Thorium ore,” Busuo said, picking up a piece to examine it, a look of confusion on his face.

“The Néier Empire calls this Thorium? What is it used for? I mean, what are its properties?” Victor pressed, his voice filled with excitement.

“Thorium is an important raw material for forging the Empire’s Thorium equipment. Only the Empire’s elite troops are equipped with Thorium armor and weapons; it’s extremely precious. Through special smelting methods, Thorium can be fused with other materials, imbuing them with metallic properties. Thorium armor, for example, is a type of armor made by fusing Thorium with leather. It is both light and sturdy. If some magic-resistant materials are added, it can also resist a certain amount of elemental damage.”

Busuo’s introduction was a wonderful surprise for Victor. The useless soft silver was actually such a valuable metal! And his territory had enormous reserves of it; two veins had already been discovered, a fact that had once frustrated him.

“Master’s Thorium ore is of very high quality. By Imperial standards, it has reached the highest grade,” Busuo remarked with admiration, squeezing the ore in his hand.

“Alright, continue telling me about your abilities.” Victor gently rubbed his temples, trying to calm himself down. It wasn’t like the Thorium ore was going anywhere.

“Yes, my Master.” Busuo dropped the ore and spoke respectfully to Victor. “I can also manufacture various standard-issue bed crossbows, trebuchets, battering rams, chariots, warships, cargo ships, large transport vehicles…”

Victor stared blankly as Busuo rattled off a long list of items, the sheer number of pleasant surprises having already left him numb.

“Stop! Stop! Tell me about your construction skills.” Victor cut off the Alchemical Auxiliary Soldier’s ceaseless chatter.

“Master, I can build four types of the Empire’s standard-issue castles, three types of standard-issue fortresses, as well as standard ports, stone city walls, and brick city walls. I can also fire bricks and tiles.”

When Busuo mentioned he could fire bricks and tiles, he caught Victor’s attention.

Most farmers in this world knew how to fire bricks, but those bricks were too brittle, even less sturdy than Iron-oak. Fortifications built with them couldn’t withstand an attack from a Knight-level combatant. Moreover, making bricks was a laborious process, so they were generally not used for building castles, city walls, or fortresses.

However, Busuo was an Alchemical Auxiliary Soldier from the Néier Empire. Perhaps the bricks he made would be different.

“Busuo, are the bricks you fire sturdy? I mean, how much of an attack can a brick wall you build withstand?” Victor asked, a hint of anticipation in his voice.

Victor’s domain was fertile, but it was sorely lacking in stone. This was why the York family had only been able to build a symbolic, miniature castle.

If Victor wanted to build a baronial castle that met the standards of the Kingdom of Gambia, he would likely have to purchase stone from other lords. With his current financial and manpower resources, such a plan was impossible.

“Master, the bricks I fire can meet the Empire’s first-class standard. A wall over four meters thick built with these bricks can withstand attacks from large trebuchets,” Busuo explained honestly.

As an alchemical lifeform from the Néier Empire, he didn’t understand the technological level of the current era, so Victor’s questions left him somewhat baffled.

“What materials do you need to fire these bricks?”

Busuo’s answer satisfied Victor. If they could withstand trebuchet attacks, bricks of this strength were sufficient for building a castle. However, since the Néier Empire’s bricks were so strong, their materials were probably unusual. After all, firing bricks wasn’t a highly technical skill.

“My lord, to fire first-class bricks, you need clay, charcoal powder, and Goldsilk Grass. To fire top-tier bricks, you also need Thorium slag and iron powder.”

Clay and charcoal powder were no problem, but what the hell was Goldsilk Grass?

“I understand,” Victor nodded.

The Alchemical Auxiliary Soldier had brought Victor so much important information that he felt a bit overwhelmed. He needed some time to process it all.

“You need to eat, right? How much do you need?”

“One standard-issue Imperial military ration per day.”

“You need to wear clothes, right? Oh, right, you do need to wear them.”

“If Master requires, I can go without.”

“…”

“Do you… need a spouse? I mean… a woman?”

“Not required! I do not have this function.”

“Excellent! That’s excellent!”

The severe gender imbalance in the camp had already become a major problem. Fights among the subjects over romantic rivalries were becoming more and more frequent. Victor had already dismissed two Villager Group Leaders over the issue, and the single War Bear Mercenaries were also getting restless, which was a huge headache for Victor.

He had even asked the King if it was possible to create some female alchemical humans. Unfortunately, the King had told him that Alchemy Tower No. 7 had no female templates.

Thinking about it, it made sense. How could they choose the relatively weaker female template for alchemical humans created to serve in war?

After a detailed conversation, Victor came to a conclusion: Busuo was a master who could find food, build houses, and make tools.

Yes, a master! Because every one of Busuo’s skills was at a master level.

There was a saying on Earth: A true man could build a city even if he were thrown into a desert.

Victor felt that, aside from not being a real man, Busuo fit that description perfectly.

“Busuo, remember two things! First, from now on, you will call me ‘My lord’! Second, you are never to speak of any information regarding the Néier Empire again! From this moment on, you are a freeman who has just joined the camp! Do you understand?” Victor commanded Busuo solemnly.

“Yes! My lord!” Busuo’s Will Side ensured that he would completely obey Victor’s commands.

Victor led Busuo out of the cave. The patrolling guards all saluted Victor, showing no curiosity about the man beside him.

These days, Victor met with every freeman who joined the camp. After asking some detailed questions, he would assign a villager group leader to take the person away.

However, Victor did not have the newly joined freemen enter the work point system. Instead, he required them to labor as ordinary subjects.

His earliest subjects welcomed this decision, and their adoration for their lord grew even stronger.

Victor didn’t need that many vassals, nor did he want to challenge the established feudal system—at least, not for the time being.

“Go and tell Dean to come see me,” Victor ordered a guard.

It wasn’t long before Dean arrived. He was the Villager Group Leader on rest duty today, and upon hearing that his lord had summoned him, he had rushed over immediately.

“Dean, this is Busuo, a new subject who has just joined us. He’ll be in your group from now on,” Victor said to Dean.

“Also, I’ve spoken with Busuo. He recognizes many plants and has a wealth of knowledge about surviving in the wild. Starting tomorrow, your group will be tasked with gathering and hunting. If you can discover any valuable new crops in the territory, I will not be stingy with my rewards,” Victor added as he saw Dean about to lead Busuo away.

Victor was very hopeful that the Goldsilk Grass Busuo had mentioned could be found in his territory, so he had subtly assigned the task to Busuo and Dean.

Hearing Victor’s words, Dean’s eyes lit up as he looked at Busuo. He knew that their lord placed great importance on new discoveries and creations. For example, Old Barker from group four had caused the entire group to be commended by their lord just for getting the ground lizards to successfully lay eggs. That time, every member of group four received one thousand work points, while the group leader and Old Barker each received five thousand.

One thousand work points was a reward of one mu of land! This made the other villager groups extremely envious.

As for why the entire villager group was rewarded, their lord’s explanation was something about team spirit. Dean didn’t quite get it, but ever since then, all the villager group leaders had begun to value their talented members instead of suppressing them as they had before.

After watching a jubilant Dean lead Busuo away, Victor returned to the cave.

“King,” Victor connected with the Tower Spirit in his mind.

“My lord, I am here.”

“King, do you know how this five hundred Gold Sol Alchemical Auxiliary Soldier makes me feel?”

Before the King could answer, Victor continued, “Powerful, far too powerful!”

“My lord, the Alchemical Auxiliary Soldier is merely the most basic alchemical unit,” the King’s gentle voice sounded in Victor’s mind.

“No, no, I’m saying the Néier Empire was too powerful. Never mind the Thorium equipment and special bricks, just the skills imported into the Alchemical Auxiliary Soldier’s Will Side made Busuo a master-level craftsman. This is simply… it’s like…” Victor felt he couldn’t find the words to describe it all.

It was no wonder Victor was so flustered. Take building a castle, for example. Most farmers in this world had built castles, but Victor knew that building one was by no means a simple matter.

First, the lord of the castle needed to find an outstanding architect to be responsible for the design, planning, and management. Otherwise, it would be absolutely impossible to build a huge and sturdy castle with just the subjects in the domain.

These architects required highly specialized knowledge and held a relatively high status. They were often the children of nobles from the Spire, who became qualified architects only after spending vast sums of money and undergoing long periods of training.

And Busuo was just an alchemical human that Victor had spent five hundred Gold Sol and ten hours to create, yet he possessed knowledge and skills that would take others more than a decade to master. Not to mention all the other various skills and knowledge he had.

“My lord, I have noticed that the skills and knowledge Busuo has mastered are all standard-issue. In other words, this knowledge is the accumulated wealth of the Néier Empire over many years. If you look at Busuo from the perspective of an empire, perhaps you would not be so shocked,” the King said softly in Victor’s mind after a moment of silence.

It could understand Victor’s unease. It was as if a person who found a few hundred bucks might be pleased with themselves, but if they found a whole sack of money, they would probably be overwhelmed by the burden.

“King, can you find the reason for the alchemy empire’s fall?” Victor steadied himself and asked gravely.

Victor couldn’t imagine what kind of power could have caused such a mighty empire to vanish from the river of history without a trace.

“My lord, this Alchemy Tower is isolated, so I cannot obtain more information. But have you noticed? The knowledge and skills of the Alchemical Auxiliary Soldier are ‘loaded’ in, and their lifespan is only fifteen years. This all means that alchemical lifeforms lack creativity. If an empire loses its creativity, its demise is inevitable,” the King offered its perspective to Victor.

Although Victor did not get the answer he wanted, he felt the King was right.

Perhaps it was precisely because of the emergence of the Alchemy Tower’s technology that the upper echelons of the Néier Empire indulged in pleasure, thereby losing their motivation to advance.

An individual losing their creativity might not be a big problem, but if an empire lost its creativity, it was truly doomed to perish.

Victor’s eyes flickered with uncertainty.

If not for the King residing in the X-3, this Alchemy Tower would not have been activated. And the ‘Will Side import’ of the alchemical creatures was astonishingly similar to the ‘skill import’ of the X-3.

All these coincidences made Victor feel as if a vast, unparalleled shadow loomed over him, and he was already deeply entangled within it.

Cutting off his connection with the King, Victor remained silent for a long time. Gradually, an idea began to form in his mind.

Perhaps… this plan was feasible.

A smile appeared on Victor’s face as he turned and left the cave.

Chapter 42: A Tangled Mess

In a mountain hollow in the eastern part of Victor’s domain, a camp had been built.

The camp was nestled against the mountainside. Only at the narrow mouth of the hollow was there a row of tall fences, completely obscuring the situation within.

What was strange was that although the fences were over ten meters high, they were built from brittle redwood. A fence of this material couldn’t even withstand the charge of a common Gnoll, and on the ground before it, there wasn’t even a trench.

This strange camp had many arrow towers, but most were built on steep mountain ridges. Because they were built so high, they offered almost no defensive value to the camp and could only serve as simple watchtowers.

Even the most ignorant farmer knew that living in such a camp was practically a death wish.

And yet, this crude camp was a forbidden place for freemen, and now it had also become a forbidden place for Victor’s subjects.

Inside the camp, a handsome and elegant young man was carefully wiping a gleaming silver longsword with a cloth of snow-white spider silk. His expression was focused, his movements gentle, as if it were not a longsword, but his beloved.

Just as the young man was concentrating on maintaining his sword, a tall, burly figure approached from behind him.

He was a stout man with a full, bushy beard. His explosive muscles seemed about to burst through his leather armor, and in his hand, he carried a broadsword of astonishing size. The sharp blade gleamed with a purple light; it was a precious Adamantine weapon.

“Berna, what was the harvest from the mine today?” asked the young man sitting on a stone, wiping his sword without turning his head.

“Good day, Tutor DeWitt.” The bear-like man gave the young man a standard, respectful knight’s salute.

“Most of what we dug up today was silver ore. There was very little of the accompanying ‘white stone’. I estimate it will take another two days to gather a full cart to transport back to the lord’s territory,” Berna said, his eyes filled with envy as he looked at the silvery-white longsword in DeWitt’s hand.

Although the longsword looked ordinary, Berna knew that once DeWitt channeled his Aura, it would reveal its astonishing power and noble true form.

For this was a Mithril longsword, and DeWitt was a Great Knight of the Silver rank.

“Berna, you’re too hasty. I warned you long ago to polish your Aura until it was perfectly smooth before breaking through. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be in this situation, with none of your three wind Elemental Nodes resonating!” DeWitt noticed Berna’s eager gaze, shook his head, and spoke with some regret.

His voice was like that of a mature middle-aged man, deep and magnetic, somewhat at odds with his youthful face.

This was not unusual. Once a knight reached the Silver rank, it meant they could communicate with the four great elements in the void. These elements linked with their bodies, circulating endlessly in a self-sustaining cycle, which was a fundamental transformation of their life essence. Therefore, a knight who broke through to the Silver rank would have their body restored to its peak appearance.

Although these extraordinary knights had escaped the affliction of old age and possessed lifespans far exceeding ordinary people, their soul characteristics did not change. Their Soul Fire would still one day be extinguished. This was a characteristic of the fire element—scorching, yet brief.

“Tutor, I was just afraid of missing this opportunity,” Berna said, scratching his head in embarrassment. As DeWitt’s former squire knight, he was still in awe of his tutor, even though he had already advanced to Bronze Knight.

In the human world, the relationship between a knight and his squire was extremely close, comparable to that of father and son. This was deeply connected to the system of primogeniture among the nobility.

In noble families, the eldest son inherited everything. So what happened to the noble sons who had no right of inheritance?

Generally, the family would do its best to accommodate and support these descendants, having them serve the family. But supporting a knight required at least three thousand acres of land and a manor, so many families simply could not afford it. After all, a family’s land was finite and had long since been enfeoffed. Thus, these noble sons who had awakened their knight’s bloodline would be sent by their families to serve under other great nobles, becoming their apprentice knights.

These great nobles would assign the newly joined apprentice knights to their full knights, to become that knight’s retainers. These knights would then bear the responsibility of training and educating these young retainers, a relationship that would last until the apprentice knight was officially promoted to Bronze Knight. Thus, a knight and his retainer knight were at once superior and subordinate, as well as mentor and father.

There were also a very small number of noble sons who, prizing freedom and being untamable, would choose to leave their families and become traveling knights. These individuals could retain their bloodline family’s surname and had the right to pioneer new lands. For this reason, they were also known as Pioneering Knights.

Once they pioneered new territory, they could establish their own family. For example, the founder of the Gambis royal line—the August family—was a Pioneering Knight from the Randt Empire a thousand years ago.

However, the path of pioneering the wilderness was rugged and dangerous. In fact, most traveling knights failed. After all, humans were not a particularly powerful race. In the end, to survive, most of these wandering knights would still join other families. Of course, a few rare knights became mercenaries or even degenerated into bandits. These fallen knights were called Wild Knights.

Berna and DeWitt were, of course, not Wild Knights. They were full knights from the house of Earl Chepman, a great noble and Victor’s eastern neighbor.

The Chepman family was one of the kingdom’s foremost military aristocratic families. They possessed over one thousand elite soldiers, more than ten Bronze Knights, and three Great Knights of the Silver rank.

The current head of the Chepman family, Earl Timoke Chepman, was a greedy and stingy man. When the kingdom was selling pioneer fiefs in the Centaur Hills, he was unwilling to spend a large sum to purchase the territory.

But after the York family cleared this territory, he secretly sent people to survey the land’s condition and discovered a silver mine with astonishing reserves near the edge of his own domain.

Thus, Earl Chepman had Berna lead men disguised as freemen to secretly mine it. In the process, they discovered that the silver mine was accompanied by Mithril ore.

At this, Chepman went mad. His first thought was to buy this piece of land from the York family, but he was afraid of arousing their suspicion. Before he could come up with a good plan, the territory was exchanged into Victor’s hands.

Upon hearing this news, Chepman laughed heartily three times and then gave the order: keep digging, until it’s all gone.

Although the Chepman family was a neutral family, he was perfectly clear about Victor’s background—an abandoned son who had lost his family’s protection. Bullying him was just that, bullying. The only thing to be careful about was not attracting the York family’s attention. To be safe, he had sent the Great Knight DeWitt to oversee the operation.

“To risk increasing the difficulty of your advancement for the sake of Mithril equipment is the most foolish thing to do! Are you planning to walk the path of the Trial of Life and Death!” DeWitt said angrily to Berna.

He knew what Berna was thinking. The discovery of the Mithril mine had the knights of the Chepman family scrambling over each other. Because of this, Earl Chepman had decided to allocate Mithril shares according to the family knights’ rankings.

The family’s three Great Knights would naturally be supplied first. But Berna, in order to raise his own ranking, had prematurely resonated with the three mid-level earth Elemental Nodes and two water Elemental Nodes. Such an irrational advancement would create enormous obstacles for his future cultivation.

“Tutor, I know I was wrong. I was just afraid there wouldn’t be enough ‘white stone’ to go around later,” Berna mumbled, his head bowed. His tutor’s anger made him both ashamed and uneasy.

Seeing the towering, bear-like Berna trembling before him, DeWitt was both amused and annoyed.

Berna had become his retainer knight at the age of fifteen. He had personally taught him how to use various weapons, how to polish his Aura, and had led him into the fray. He had witnessed Berna grow from a green youth into a powerful knight. And now, when faced with his criticism, this knight was still as tense and uneasy as he had been in his youth. DeWitt believed that no matter how powerful Berna became in the future, he would always be his student and his child.

At this thought, DeWitt’s expression softened slightly. He said to Berna, “You don’t need to worry about Mithril equipment right now. That’s a matter for the family to consider. Remember, the one who runs the fastest doesn’t necessarily succeed. Only the one who has the last laugh is the victor.”

“By the way, after we drove off the little lord’s guards last time, has he sent anyone else to cause trouble?” DeWitt asked.

“No. Last time’s lesson taught that little lord to behave. He hasn’t had anyone parade that ridiculous Ogre head around anymore,” Berna said with disdain.

“Oh? How do you know so clearly?” DeWitt asked his student, a little curious. For the sake of secrecy, this camp had maintained no contact with the outside world.

“When we first came here to mine, in order to gather intelligence on this territory, I had my men disguise themselves as freemen and build another camp nearby. All the intelligence comes from them,” Berna explained. Though he looked rough and boorish, he was no idiot.

“Well done!”

“Tutor, this soft little Baron has absolutely no awareness of what it takes to be a pioneer lord. He’s actually thinking of taking in those lowly freemen. He even stopped Bruce from cleansing the territory for that reason. His camp is like a sieve right now, full of holes! Our men have already joined his camp. Now, none of his movements can be hidden from us.” His tutor’s praise made Berna quite pleased with himself.

“A flower raised in a greenhouse will never understand that only iron and blood can establish order in a pioneer fief. I can foresee that once he loses the support of the York family, this little lord will die at the hands of these freemen,” DeWitt remarked with a sigh.

“Exactly! This little Baron isn’t thinking about how to win over knights, but instead is messing with some work point system, some animal husbandry, and, oh, even forcing his subjects to bathe! All useless little tricks!”

Hearing how ridiculous and incompetent Victor was, DeWitt couldn’t help but shake his head and chuckle. He said to Berna, “This foolish little lord is very beneficial to us. Pay close attention, and don’t let him get killed by the freemen. Perhaps we can completely control this territory in the future.”

“You’ve done an excellent job this time! Once Bruce from the York family leaves, I’ll go back to see the Earl. If we can control this territory, I believe his lordship will be very pleased,” DeWitt said with a smile, patting Berna’s shoulder.

“Tutor, you can go back now. I can handle one Bruce!” Berna puffed out his chest and slapped it with a resounding thump, thump. Although Earl Chepman was stingy, he was never cheap with knights who performed meritorious service for the family.

“They say Bruce is only a step away from the Silver rank. You are not his match right now.”

Seeing his student’s unconvinced expression, DeWitt warned him again, “Do not cause any complications. Even I don’t want to come face-to-face with Bruce.”

“Tutor, you’re a Silver Knight! Why would you be afraid of Bruce? Besides, are there not plenty of knights who die in the wilderness?” His tutor’s words left Berna utterly astonished.

“What do you know! Bruce is a family knight highly regarded by Lady Rose, who believes he can become the York family’s sixth Silver Great Knight. It wouldn’t be hard for me to kill Bruce, but the York family would definitely investigate thoroughly. If that happens, I’m afraid we won’t be able to keep this place secret,” DeWitt’s grave tone made Berna shrink back.

Just then, two strapping men emerged from the cookhouse, pushing a small cart full of remains. They had just finished butchering two large wild boars and were about to haul the remains out of the camp to be dumped.

The foul stench made Berna and DeWitt wrinkle their noses. However, a few large black crows flew down from the treetops, cawing, “Caw, caw,” as if they couldn’t wait to enjoy this free meal.

“You lazy bones! How many times have I told you? Haul this trash farther away and bury it! Look how many of these stinking birds you’ve attracted these past few days!” Berna berated them loudly, venting the anger from his tutor’s scolding onto his subordinates.

Hearing the knight’s angry shouts, the two pitiful scapegoats hurriedly shooed away the uninvited diners.

Perhaps realizing there was no chance for a tasty meal today, the large crows, once driven away, circled in the air a few times, let out a few “Caw, caws,” and flew straight west.

Victor was currently playing a jigsaw puzzle.

Although the alchemical crows were intelligent, they couldn’t, after all, understand complex human language. So the phrases they mimicked so vividly were all jumbled and out of order.

Victor had no choice but to record these phrases one by one on a slate with a charcoal pencil, then piece them together according to their logical connections.

After several days of effort, he now knew everything he needed to know.

In the camp in the eastern part of his domain, two powerful knights were secretly mining silver and Mithril. They were very likely knights from the Chepman family to the east. Moreover, they had already infiltrated his own camp and now had designs on his territory.

Victor gently pressed his throbbing temples. A guard reported loudly from outside the door, “My lord, Captain Narsen has returned.”

Victor had sent Narsen to Baron Eskri’s fief to trade for some supplies and to verify a few things.

In the room Victor had named his office, Narsen met with his lord.

“Narsen, how did it go?” Victor had Narsen sit opposite his desk and asked with a smile.

“My lord, Baron Eskri had nothing but praise for our Purple Cane wine. I’ve already traded for a sufficient amount of salt, a portion of tung oil, and a small quantity of flour,” Narsen said, his face alight with excitement. The warm reception for the Purple Cane wine from their neighbor had thrilled him.

Initially, many people had been puzzled when Victor restricted the subjects from felling the Purple Cane forest. But once the Purple Cane wine was successfully brewed, its unique sweet and savory flavor intoxicated everyone who tasted it. Master Edwin had even declared it a top-shelf vintage.

The scholar’s words had greatly encouraged Narsen. He could almost see countless Gold Sols waving at him, so he began to strictly enforce Victor’s ban, absolutely forbidding anyone from damaging the territory’s financial prospects.

“Excellent! And what about the other matter I asked you to inquire about?” Victor asked in a low voice.

“My lord, Lord Eskri said that Berna is a newly advanced knight of the Chepman family, and DeWitt is a Silver Great Knight of the Chepman family. He was very curious why I was asking about these two, but I managed to put him off with an excuse,” Narsen replied grimly.

Victor let out a soft sigh. The information gathered by the alchemical crows had now all been verified.

“My lord, I don’t quite understand. Why would a noble Silver Knight come to steal silver ore?” Narsen was puzzled, as he still didn’t know that the silver mine was accompanied by Mithril ore.

“Heh, do you have any idea just how stingy and greedy the Chepman family is?” Victor said with a smile.

The matter of the Mithril mine was too sensitive. The fewer people who knew, the better. So Victor didn’t plan on telling Narsen the truth.

“When Earl Chepman was little, he once accompanied the old Earl to an audience with the king. He took a tumble in the royal garden. Without batting an eye, he dug up two patches of turf from the lawn, hid them in his pockets, and brought them home. He then gave the turf to the family gardener. It’s said that the lawn in their family garden was cultivated just like that. And when the old Earl Chepman found out, he was overjoyed and often used this story to educate the other descendants of the Chepman family.”

Narsen was dumbstruck by this anecdote. He was beginning to think that it was only natural for Chepman to dispatch a Silver Knight to steal a silver mine.

“Alright, from now on, tell our people not to go to that area in the east anymore,” Victor said, drawing a line on a parchment map.

Although he felt aggrieved, Narsen could only nod helplessly.

That was a Great Knight of the Silver rank, and a completely shameless one at that!

“Also, from now on, do not recruit any more guards from the newly arrived subjects. And without my permission, no one is allowed to come to the upper camp at will. I don’t trust them,” Victor said coldly. He absolutely could not let those spies discover his secrets.

“Yes, my lord,” Narsen answered solemnly. He knew his lord was tinkering with some new things, like sugar and such, and he himself was very much looking forward to it.

“In a couple of days, Master Edwin and the others should be back. When the time comes, pick some guards to escort them back to Black Fortress. Take some Purple Cane wine with you for Old John and the others to sell,” Victor said to Narsen after a moment’s hesitation.

On one hand, he needed to get the astute members of the War Bear group out of the way to facilitate his grand people-making plan. On the other hand, these bachelors really did need to relax a bit.

Narsen nodded eagerly. He truly missed the old, disabled members of his former group, and his men had complained to him more than once about how monotonous life here was.

“Then what about your safety, my lord?” Narsen asked with some worry amidst his excitement.

“My strength… surely you know it by now?” Victor shook his head with a smile.

Narsen was immediately at a loss for words. Although his lord had a scholarly appearance, he was a powerhouse who could hold his own against an Old Ogre. Knight Bruce even believed that if Victor had a military-grade heavy crossbow, he could pose a fatal threat to a Bronze Knight.

“Also, tell the men who can’t go back to Black Fortress Town this time that I will be arranging for personnel to travel there frequently to sell goods. There will be plenty of opportunities in the future. You may go.”

Victor gestured for Narsen to leave, but noticed him standing there, fidgeting and looking like he had something to say.

“My lord… this… you see, this time, could you perhaps prepare one hundred… oh, no, fifty Gold Sols for me? It’s because there are quite a few men going…” Under Victor’s intense gaze, Narsen finally stammered out his small request.

Clutching the money pouch Victor had given him, Narsen fled in disarray under his lord’s disapproving glare.

After Narsen left the room, Victor leaned back in his chair and let out a heavy sigh. Narsen was a rare and fierce general, but he lacked the talent for strategy and planning.

The territory had unruly freemen and a great noble neighbor with ill intentions, while his own subjects were a mixed bag, rife with hidden dangers.

Victor thought for a long time about how to solve these problems but couldn’t come up with any good solutions.

“What a tangled mess!” Victor slammed his fist down, unable to hold back a complaint.

After thinking quietly for another moment, Victor shook his head and chuckled.

It wasn’t that he had thought of a solution. Rather, he had suddenly realized that there was no need to worry about these problems at all, because time was on his side.

Alchemical creatures, bloodline abilities, a powerful Body-refining technique, and knowledge and skills that surpassed this era—as time went on, he would grow stronger and stronger. All these problems would cease to be problems.

You bumpkins who still wipe your asses with leaves—I’ll let you know that even as a foolish little lord, I’m still beyond your reach.

Thinking this, Victor couldn’t help but touch his own rear.

Seamless was truly a useful skill!

Chapter 43: Reno the Militiaman

The sky had cleared after a light snow. Gentle sunlight filtered through the sparse woods, scattering across the ground still dusted with ice, causing wisps of cold mist to rise from the forest floor.

Forty-some robust men, carrying iron axes and steel saws, made their way through the cold mist. Their thick, tightly-made snow rabbit leather boots stomped on the muddy ground, splashing slush everywhere.

Well past fifty, his hair already graying, Moline blew a warm breath into his palms and vigorously rubbed his somewhat frozen fingers. The air on a day when snow was melting was always particularly damp and cold.

However, the villager group leader appointed by Victor was filled with joy and hope. He knew the cold, damp Season of Water was about to pass, and the Season of Earth, when all things revived, was quietly approaching. Tender buds were even sprouting on the branches still hung with ice and snow.

Today, Moline and his group members’ task was to clear a portion of this small forest, because Lord Victor planned to lay out a village on a patch of open land right next to the woods. And around the village, a clear zone of three bowshots’ distance had to be maintained.

“Let’s start chopping from here! Put some muscle into it today, everyone. If we finish early, I’ll use my work points to treat you all to hot pot back at the camp!” Moline announced after estimating the distance, urging everyone to get to work.

“Alright!”

“Group Leader, you better keep your word! I want the venison pot!”

“Venison? Aren’t you afraid of getting over-nourished, you beast! It’s not like you’re on the list Captain Narsen is taking to Black Fortress Town.”

“Haha…”

Hearing that their group leader was treating them to hot pot, the villagers all grew excited. This was a delicacy invented by My Lord himself, both delicious and warming, but it could only be enjoyed at the small canteen by spending work points.

Victor had opened the small canteen out of necessity. Just a few days ago, when Lilia was reporting to him on the territory’s affairs, he was shocked to learn that in just over a month, the camp had issued over one hundred thousand work points.

Victor had promised that one work point could be exchanged for one Copper Sol, which meant Victor needed to pay his subjects more than one hundred thousand Copper Sols. According to the Randt Empire’s currency exchange rate, thirty-six Copper Sols equaled one Silver Sol, and thirty-six Silver Sols equaled one Gold Sol. Over one hundred thousand Copper Sols was equivalent to nearly one hundred Gold Sols.

Victor could certainly afford one hundred Gold Sols, but the problem was that this was only for the work points issued in a little over a month. If they continued to accumulate at this rate, he would be in over his head.

After carefully reviewing the work point records with Lilia’s help, Victor had to admit that he had overestimated his own management skills and underestimated his subjects’ frenzied desire for work points.

The camp’s achievements were plain to see. In the past fifty-odd days, two layers of eight-meter-high Iron-oak fences had been erected, along with eight arrow towers, barracks, a warehouse, a mill, a reservoir, a blacksmith shop, a mess hall, a wine cellar, and Victor’s office and experimental workshop. On top of that, the highly enthusiastic subjects had cleared nearly two thousand mu of land, were raising nearly two hundred ground lizards, and were gathering over one hundred ground lizard eggs a day. Recently, spurred on by rewards from Victor’s team, the villager groups had begun trying to raise wild boars, yellow goats, and short-tailed deer, and had even captured three Swiftbirds! All of these achievements were built on the foundation of the production team’s work point system.

In the human world, subjects toiled for their lords for free. If a subject slacked off, their lord would teach them a lesson with a whip. Victor, however, scorned such crude management methods. From an efficiency standpoint, the work point system he implemented could be considered extremely successful. The problem was that Victor hadn’t carefully weighed the allocation of work points against his actual ability to pay, which had led to this awkward situation.

As a lord, Victor could delay converting the work points for his subjects for now. He was in dire need of Gold Sols at the moment because he had already begun producing Alchemical humans.

Of the fifty thousand Gold Sols Victor had received from the York family, only about twenty-nine thousand remained. According to his plan, he intended to produce fifteen Alchemical auxiliary soldiers and fifteen Alchemical militia, along with ten alchemical crows, requiring a total of twenty-six thousand Gold Sols. This left him with less than three thousand Gold Sols on hand, a very limited amount for a lord.

Earning money had become his most pressing desire. But before that, Victor had to resolve the crisis of confidence brought on by the work point problem.

Victor could delay the exchange of work points for Copper Sols, but not for too long. Back on Earth, the thing he had hated most was his boss delaying his salary.

And so, the small canteen opened for business in the camp.

Previously, the subjects’ three daily meals in the camp were provided for free by the kitchen staff. The food required for several hundred people was substantial, but fortunately, Victor’s territory was vast and rich in flora and fauna. They could basically be self-sufficient through gathering and hunting. The only issue was that the food from the kitchen was very monotonous, limited to only two cooking methods: stewing and roasting.

The small canteen in the camp, however, offered delicacies prepared in various ways: stir-frying, steaming, grilling on iron plates, mixed stews, and even sweet Purple Cane wine. However, these had to be exchanged for work points.

Victor intended to use this method to reclaim work points.

At first, the subjects would rather stand outside the small canteen drooling, chewing on the free food from the kitchen, than go inside to spend their points. After Victor inquired, he finally understood. It turned out the subjects didn’t really care about exchanging work points for Copper Sols; what they truly cared about was exchanging them for fiefs.

Victor had no choice but to once again assure his subjects: anyone who earned one thousand work points could receive one mu of land, and their work points could still be used for other things. Only then did the subjects begin to spend at the small canteen.

The experience at the small canteen left the subjects incredibly satisfied. Not only could they enjoy delicious food, but it also gave them a sense of superiority, because the freemen who joined later had no work points to spend there.

Once dining there became a representation of status and position, business at the small canteen boomed.

And the success of the small canteen made Victor realize that whether work points could be exchanged for Copper Sols was no longer important. His crisis of confidence had been resolved.

What Victor didn’t expect, however, was that the small canteen he founded would, decades later, become the most high-class venue for consumption and socializing in the human world. Of course, that is a story for another time.

Watching his men work with fiery enthusiasm, Moline’s heart burned with a fiery passion of its own.

He spat into his palm, gripped his heavy iron axe, and swung it forcefully at a small tree. A life of hard labor and displacement had left Moline’s body somewhat stooped, but he felt as if every inch of him was filled with strength.

Before long, Moline would become the very first Village Head under My Lord.

Victor’s territory was vast, spanning nearly twelve thousand square kilometers. A single camp was far from enough to control such a large area, so establishing villages and roads became his inevitable choice.

With the arrival of some freemen, the population of Victor’s hill camp was now close to five hundred. Although the camp could fully accommodate these people, Victor believed that as the weather warmed, more freemen would migrate here. To be able to absorb more subjects, Victor decided to establish the first village.

Of course, the main reason was to counter the Chepman family’s ambitions for this territory. The Chepman family, by disguising themselves as freemen, had already gained actual control over the eastern part of the territory. Victor worried they would continue using this method to establish freemen strongholds around the hill camp. If that happened, he would be trapped in this area, losing effective control over his land.

Therefore, to prevent this from happening, Victor had to preemptively establish villages and strongholds in strategic locations around the hill camp.

Victor chose Moline to be the Village Head of the first village. The other Villager Group Leaders were incredibly envious, but none objected. This was because Moline was the best carpenter in the camp. Every wooden structure in the hill camp was designed and built by Moline, including the exquisite wooden cabins that stood in the upper camp.

All the subjects believed it was Moline’s fine craftsmanship that had earned him My Lord’s favor, but Moline knew he was valued by My Lord because he was sufficiently honest and dutiful.

Originally, Victor had appointed six people as Villager Group Leaders. Now, two of them had already lost their positions because they began to use their power to oppress the members under them. They were then reported by the Deputy Group Leaders. As for who reported them, no one could say for sure besides My Lord, because the position of Deputy Group Leader was rotated among the ordinary villagers.

Now, no Group Leader dared to brazenly bully the subjects under them. Who knew if that person would become a Deputy Group Leader in the future and snitch on them to My Lord.

Of course, there were also some malicious individuals who tried to use their position as Deputy Group Leader to falsely accuse their Group Leader, attempting to take their jobs. Unfortunately for them, My Lord saw through all their schemes. After a harsh whipping, these people were also kicked out of the work point system. This severe punishment made all those with ulterior motives behave themselves.

The subjects didn’t know how Victor saw through these lies, but they all believed their lord was incomparably wise and would not tolerate any deception.

In truth, Victor never believed the content of a single report from a Deputy Group Leader. He simply recorded all the reports and then compared them. Only information that was corroborated would Victor treat as fact.

Moline swung his axe with force, finally felling the small, bowl-thick tree. He straightened up, wiped the sweat from his brow, and glanced around at the work progress of the other villagers.

The number of people in this villager group had grown from the initial twenty-odd to forty, as newly joined freemen had been assigned to it. However, the work ethic of these later members was far less enthusiastic than that of the old members. After all, they couldn’t earn work points. To motivate these people, Victor allowed each Group Leader to recommend one outstanding new member to join the work point system each month. Unfortunately, to this day, not a single Villager Group Leader had made such a recommendation to Victor, and Moline was no exception.

What a joke. Letting these lowly, lazy freemen be on equal footing with us? In their next life, maybe!

For this situation, Victor currently had no good solution. Such is human nature.

Of course, there were a few rare freemen who worked diligently without complaint. For instance, Moline had such a new member in his group.

This was a tall, burly man in the prime of his life. His body was covered in knotted muscles, and he seemed to possess inexhaustible strength. A small tree as thick as a bowl, which an ordinary villager would need more than a dozen swings to cut down, this man could fell in just two. And seeing how effortlessly he did it, everyone believed he could actually chop down a small tree with a single blow.

This big fellow had only been in Moline’s group for a few days, but the strength and work efficiency he displayed made all the members take notice. He alone did the work equivalent of five villagers. As a result, he was ostracized by all the group members. Even Moline intentionally or unintentionally suppressed him, assigning him heavy, dirty jobs. Yet, he completed the tasks Moline gave him without any complaint whatsoever.

And when faced with the taunts and ridicule of other group members, the big fellow would just smile foolishly. He never argued with anyone and rarely spoke. Even if someone tried to deliberately chat with him, he could barely squeeze out a sentence. Gradually, everyone came to understand: this big fellow was a fool!

This realization brought a sigh of relief to everyone. Subsequently, their attitude towards the big fellow did a one-eighty. After all, this super-capable, big fool made the group’s work much easier.

Crack! Another small tree was felled by the big fellow. This was already the seventh tree he had cut down.

Seeing this, Moline nodded to himself. He had been observing the big fellow’s performance for the past few days. Although the man was a bit simple-minded, he was indeed hardworking and reliable, a good hand at labor. Most importantly, he was very obedient and never cut corners when completing tasks Moline assigned.

Moline decided to observe the big fellow for a while longer. If he continued to be so obedient and hardworking, in a month, he would recommend the big fellow to Lord Victor to join the work point system. It would be best if he could get the big fellow to join his village in the future.

“Big Guy, stop and take a rest,” Moline couldn’t help but order after the big fellow had felled eleven small trees.

This big guy was good at everything, except that he was a bit single-minded. If Moline didn’t tell him to rest, he would probably keep working until the task was complete.

“Group Leader, Big Guy has plenty of strength! If you really care about him, let him eat his fill today!” an old group member teased sarcastically.

Moline’s eye twitched. The big guy had another problem: he was a massive eater. He alone ate more food than three men combined. A couple of days ago, when Moline was appointed as the provisional Village Head, he treated his group members to hot pot at the small canteen. In the end, it cost him over five hundred work points, and more than one hundred points’ worth of food had been devoured by the big guy alone. When it was over, the big guy had even poured the entire remaining broth into his stomach because he still wasn’t full…

“Based on his performance, I’ll let him eat his fill today. I refuse to believe I can’t fill his stomach!” Moline said through gritted teeth.

He was about to become a Lord Village Head, how could he still be as stingy as an ordinary subject?

Although it still pained him dearly, Moline felt he had to have the air of a Lord Village Head. In any case, his accumulated work points were the highest in the camp, over ten thousand! Most of these were rewards from Victor for designing the camp and its buildings.

“Haha! Let’s see just how big Big Guy’s stomach is today!”

“I bet Big Guy alone will eat three hundred of the Group Leader’s work points!”

Just as everyone was laughing and chatting loudly, the big fellow, holding his heavy logging axe, suddenly shot to his feet and roared, “Look out!”

The words had barely left his mouth when a colossal beast burst out from a thicket of shrubs, charging straight at the unprepared crowd.

This was a wild boar weighing over eight hundred pounds. Its bloodshot eyes, the tusks in its long snout, and the arrows embedded in its hind legs and rump clearly told everyone that this was a wounded and enraged male boar!

Without any hesitation, the frenzied beast roared and charged towards the villager closest to it.

Once a male boar goes berserk, it is terrifying. Its strength and weight could easily snap a small tree as thick as a bowl, its long tusks were sharp enough to pierce a person’s body, and its hide was thick and tough, making it difficult for an ordinary person to kill it in one go. Faced with such a creature, the best method was to avoid it ahead of time.

However, the encounter was too sudden. Although the villager was already scrambling and crawling to dodge the boar’s attack, it was too late.

Just as everyone scattered in panic, the big fellow moved.

In a flash, the big fellow crossed a distance of over ten meters. Using the blunt side of his logging axe, he smashed it down heavily on the arched back of the boar’s neck. With a dull thud, the male boar’s unstoppable charge came to an abrupt halt. Its massive body was slammed directly onto the ground by the immense force, unable to even let out a whimper. It was killed instantly.

The big fellow’s mountain-crushing attack left everyone dumbfounded.

After a long moment, the subject who had been just a foot away from the boar’s tusks was the first to react. He let out a strange cry and scrambled backwards, terrified by the close call.

“Well done, Big Guy!” Moline said, still shaken, as he walked up and patted the big fellow’s shoulder.

“I must tell Lord Victor about your performance. Even though you haven’t been in the camp for a month, I will ask My Lord to let you formally join my villager group. By the way, what was your name again?” The big fellow’s martial prowess filled Moline with admiration, yet he had the embarrassing realization that he hadn’t remembered the man’s name.

“Group Leader, my name is Reno,” the big fellow said in a low, muffled voice.

Chapter 44: Clash

Reno was not a pure human. He was an Alchemical militia recently created by the Alchemy Tower.

This Alchemical militia, with a Physique of 17, Spirit of 10, Perception of 10, Life of 3, and a lifespan of fifteen years, had cost Victor 1200 Gold Sols. At Victor’s request, the Tower Spirit King loaded him with four skills: Planting, Long Weapon Proficiency, Short Weapon Proficiency, and Mystic Form.

Victor had originally intended to load the Alchemical militia with Forging and Architecture. That way, he could have spent all his funds on producing Alchemical militia, who were equivalent to ferocious humans, without having to spend Gold Sols on Alchemical auxiliary soldiers.

Unfortunately, the King told him that Alchemical militia could only be loaded with one production skill—Planting. So, Victor had to glumly queue up another production task for fifteen Alchemical auxiliary soldiers.

As for the upgrade from weapon mastery to weapon proficiency, that was a change that occurred after the King loaded the skills from Earth’s martial arts, recorded in X-3, into the Alchemy Tower’s Will Side reserves.

The direct consequence of this change was that not only had Reno killed an 800-pound male wild boar with a single blow from his axe, but he had also shockingly interrupted its charge!

Moline and the others witnessed this, but they couldn’t understand how Reno had done it.

In fact, within Reno’s seemingly simple attack, he had made full use of the power generation techniques from Chinese martial arts on Earth.

As the wild boar charged, Reno crossed a distance of over ten meters in four strides. From the moment he took his first step, his attack had already begun. He channeled power sequentially from his ankle, knee, hip, spine, back, shoulder, elbow, and wrist. By his fourth step, when his speed reached its peak, this power had fused into a single, coherent force. In that one instant, it was channeled through the axe in his hand, and the blunt back of the axe, carrying an overwhelming force, precisely struck the boar’s sturdy nape, directly cutting off the momentum of its charge and killing it on the spot!

Of course, as an Alchemical human with a Physique of 17, Reno could have easily killed the boar even if he only had weapon mastery, but he absolutely would not have been able to save the subject’s life. The immense inertia of the boar’s charge would have been more than enough to kill that man!

Unfortunately, the subjects present couldn’t appreciate the true skill on display. If Baron Eskri had witnessed this scene, he would have been utterly amazed by Reno’s strike. It could be said that Reno, loaded with weapon proficiency, displayed an offensive power that had already surpassed most apprentice knights, nearly reaching the level of a newly-ranked knight!

As for the Mystic Form skill Reno was loaded with, it was a new skill generated after the King imported the ancient body-refining techniques recorded in X-3 into the Alchemy Tower. Victor was very curious to see what changes would occur if an Alchemical human cultivated Mystic Form. For this reason, he didn’t hesitate to use up one of Reno’s precious skill slots.

The King believed it was highly likely that Mystic Form would affect Alchemical humans, but the specific effects would still require time to verify.

“Big guy—oh no, Reno, you’re amazing! You killed such a huge wild boar in one blow!”

“Reno’s strength is probably even greater than Captain Gru’s!”

“With the big guy around from now on, we won’t have to be afraid of wild beasts.”

Once the dust settled, the subjects who had scattered in panic gathered again, chattering about Reno’s martial prowess.

However, a rustling sound came from behind the thorn bushes, causing another stir among the still-shaken people. This time, they didn’t run. Instead, they tightened their grips on their axes and moved closer to Reno.

Reno, however, did not assume a defensive stance. His Perception of 10 allowed him to clearly sense that there were humans behind the bushes.

A moment later, a dozen or so men armed with hunting bows, javelins, and long spears emerged from the gap the wild boar had created. They were a hunting party of freemen.

Seeing that it was humans who emerged from the thorns, the members of the villager group collectively sighed in relief, which was quickly followed by looks of disdain.

“Who are you?” Moline stepped forward and questioned them loudly.

The men had been looking with apprehension at the forty-odd hostile-looking villagers holding iron axes. Hearing Moline’s shout, they all turned to look at a particularly burly man in their group.

Pete frowned. The situation before him was rather tricky. He had led his men out hunting today and discovered this lone male boar. After wounding it with their arrows, they had tracked their prey from a distance, intending to wait for it to tire out before killing it. Unexpectedly, the great beast had fallen into the hands of these people.

“That’s our prey,” Pete said in a strained voice. Although the other party far outnumbered them, he had to try. After all, they had spent half a day tracking this animal. Retreating had never been the freemen’s way of survival.

“So it was you bastards who drove the boar over here! It nearly killed me.”

Hearing Pete’s words, the lucky survivor who had just escaped death immediately rushed forward, beside himself with rage, wanting to settle the score. But Moline pulled him back.

“Your prey?! Everything on this land belongs to our lord, Baron Victor Wimbledon! We were the ones who killed this boar! And we are the Baron’s direct subjects. Do you understand? Freemen!” Moline said with a cold sneer.

Although Pete hadn’t directly stated his identity, their crude equipment and unfamiliar faces already revealed that they were freemen living on this land.

Subjects always looked down on freemen, not to mention that Moline and his group now considered themselves vassals. In Moline’s eyes, these Goblin-like freemen were just a pack of thieves and robbers, even though two months ago, he himself had been a displaced freeman.

“Don’t you know that you have trespassed upon the lord’s property!” Moline roared, his voice harsh and his expression severe. The recent accident had nearly cost one of his men his life.

Victor also used the safety of the villagers as a metric to evaluate the performance of a villager group leader. If one of Moline’s men had died here today, Lord Victor would likely have been disappointed in his abilities. And all of this was because of these reckless freemen. At this thought, Moline’s anger flared, and his expression grew even more hostile.

Moline’s words caused a commotion among the freemen, and Pete cursed his luck inwardly.

Victor’s policy of absorbing the territory’s freemen had long since spread across the land. As the chief of a small freemen camp, Pete was well aware of this.

At first, Pete had considered leading his men to join Victor’s camp and become a subject with status, but he was reluctant to give up his current position and power. While he was hesitating and unable to decide, a piece of news came from a small freemen camp to the east: this new lord had no knights under his command!

Pete was skeptical of this news and decided to wait and see for the time being. Of course, during this period, some of the freemen under his command chose to leave his camp and join the lord’s Hill Camp. Pete did not stop them; he even sent a few of his trusted men to join Victor’s ranks along with them.

As intelligence came back from these confidants, Pete confirmed it: this lord had no knights and no castle! Besides his title as a lord, he was not much different from a freeman!

Ambition instantly began to grow wild in Pete’s heart, like weeds. He began to desire more. It wasn’t impossible for him to join the lord, but he wanted the status of a village head. The tribute he would have to pay to the lord would also have to be negotiated, and he needed greater autonomy.

To achieve this goal, Pete colluded with the leaders of other freemen camps and began to use harsh methods to forbid his men from joining Victor’s camp. He even went so far as to hang three members of his camp who had tried to escape.

But he never expected that a single hunt would lead to an unexpected encounter with the lord’s subjects.

Pete decided to retreat immediately. Now was not the time to clash with the lord over a single boar, at least not yet!

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Lord Group Leader, we’ll leave right now!” Pete said to Moline, bowing and scraping. He had long heard that Victor had six villager group leaders under him, and judging by Moline’s arrogant demeanor, he must be one of them.

I’ll let you be smug for a little while. After the York family’s knight leaves this territory, you’ll be the one calling me Lord Village Head! Pete thought viciously.

Don’t resist, don’t cooperate, don’t let their men join the lord’s camp, and drag things out until the York family’s knight leaves the territory. Only then would they negotiate with the young lord. This was the consensus among the freemen leaders. They believed that Victor’s current strength relied solely on the York family’s knight. Once that knight was gone, the young lord would immediately become much more accommodating.

Just as Pete was calling for his men to leave, the unexpected happened.

“I want to join you! I want to join you!” A rather frail-looking freeman dropped his javelin and ran towards Moline and his group.

This was the situation Pete hated to see most. To prevent his men from defecting to the lord, he had spared no effort in his camp to proclaim that the new lord lacked the power to protect them, and that they could obtain the status of subjects through negotiation, which would also allow them to pay less tribute. But there were always some who couldn’t see the bigger picture, who just wanted to become subjects with status immediately. Toward these people, Pete did not hesitate to use cruel and bloody methods of suppression. After a few public executions, no one dared to suggest joining the lord’s camp anymore. But this sudden encounter had given this man, whom he had long oppressed, a chance to escape.

Those who become freemen leaders are generally strong, violent, and reckless men. Pete felt a rush of blood to his head. A murderous glint flashed in his eyes, and without a second thought, he raised his hunting bow and fired an arrow at the man who had betrayed him.

The arrow struck the man in the back. The sharp arrowhead protruded from his chest, and the fatal wound caused the poor freeman to collapse on his way toward the subjects.

“Insolence!!” A furious roar erupted from the militia soldier Reno. The massive roar was like a clap of thunder, making everyone’s ears ring.

The tall and imposing Reno charged towards Pete. In the span of two blinks, he had crossed more than twenty meters. The logging axe in his hand let out a terrifying shriek as he brought it down directly on the culprit.

Facing Reno’s attack, the over 200-pound Pete was as helpless as a scarecrow. His entire body was sent flying into the air, cleaved in two, before finally landing more than ten meters away, killed instantly.

The bloody and gruesome scene sent a chill through everyone’s hearts, and no one dared to make a sound.

“Lord Victor has given an order: No one shall prevent freemen from joining the camp! Defiance means death!”

Looking at the giant-like Reno, Moline swallowed hard.

Was this still that same dull-witted big guy!?

——————————————

“Is that all?”

After listening to Moline’s report, Lilia furrowed her delicate eyebrows. For the past month or so, she had stopped going out on missions with her companions. The abundant food and comfortable life had made her slender face fill out a little, maturing into a lovely oval shape. Her once slightly rough skin had also begun to turn smooth and delicate, making the pretty girl even more radiant and charming.

“Yes, Miss Lilia.” Moline, his face still a little pale, said to Lilia with the utmost respect.

Although Lilia was still an eighteen-year-old girl, she was now in charge of the camp’s internal affairs, including the recording of work points. She was, in a sense, Moline’s direct superior, so he had no choice but to be respectful.

Everyone in the camp believed that Lilia was destined to become the lord’s personal handmaiden. Although Victor had not yet made this clear, it was only because of Lord Victor’s ambiguous relationship with My Lady Knight Nicole. After My Lady Knight Nicole left, everyone would probably have to address Lilia as My Lady.

“For now, lock up those freemen captives in the barracks. I will go and ask my lord for instructions on how to handle them shortly. If there’s nothing else, Uncle Moline, you may go.” Lilia said to Moline with a light smile.

Lilia was in charge of most of the camp’s internal affairs, but the matter of accepting freemen was always handled personally by Victor.

“Miss Lilia, about Reno…” Moline said hesitantly.

“What? You want to transfer him away?” Lilia raised her pretty eyebrows.

“No, no, that’s not what I mean.” Moline quickly waved his hands and said, “I hope my lord can allow Reno to join the work point system. Although it hasn’t been a full month, he is truly loyal to Lord Victor.”

Although Reno’s ruthless cruelty was unnerving, his formidable strength was undeniable. As a village head who would soon be managing things on his own, Moline knew the camp’s defenses were insufficient, so he was desperate for Reno to become the militia captain of his future village.

“I understand. I will speak to my lord about it. You may leave for now.”

After receiving Lilia’s assurance, Moline left with his mind at ease. What he didn’t know was that Lilia was currently worried about the very same Reno, whose origins were a mystery.

When Lilia found Victor in the upper camp, he was talking with a farmer.

“So, Busuo, has it been confirmed that there is Goldsilk Grass in the territory?”

“Yes, my lord. This grass grows all over the mountains here, but the people here call it Thornleaf Grass.”

“Hmm, you may go for now.” Seeing Lilia approach, Victor motioned for the farmer Busuo to leave.

“Miss Lilia, good day.” As he passed Lilia, Busuo bowed to her.

Lilia gave him a reserved nod in return. She knew this farmer.

Although this farmer, Busuo, had only recently joined the camp, he possessed a wealth of wilderness survival experience. He had already helped the camp find seven types of valuable plants, and he was also familiar with animal habits. He and his villager group were currently trying to domesticate the unique Swiftbirds of the territory. All the members of the War Bear guild were looking forward to this, and Narsen had even arranged for Gru to lead a guard team specifically to help them capture Swiftbirds in the territory.

“Lilia, let’s talk in the office,” Victor said with a smile, gesturing to Lilia.

Her face slightly flushed, Lilia curtsied to Victor and obediently followed the Baron into the exquisite wooden house known as the office.

“Come, have a taste of today’s coffee and see what’s different.” Before Lilia could speak, Victor spoke first and began to brew the so-called coffee for her.

Seeing the brown liquid in the pottery cup emanating a rich aroma, Lilia’s pretty face scrunched up in bitterness.

This so-called coffee was a new beverage recently invented by that man Busuo. It was made from the pits of a wild fruit, but the specific production method was known only to a select few. The lord did not allow anyone to leak this secret; not even Lilia or Narsen knew it.

However, this drink, which Victor treasured and had personally named “coffee,” was incredibly horrible to drink! Although its aroma was rich and tantalizing, it was bitter and astringent in the mouth, making it difficult to swallow. Lilia, Narsen, as well as Gru, Iron Hammer, and all the villager group leaders had been forced to drink a cup by Victor, but none of them wanted to try it again. Only Victor drank it with relish. Lilia was sure it was because his Moon Elf bloodline made his sense of taste different from others.

Under Victor’s eager gaze, Lilia gritted her teeth and took a small sip. Although the coffee tasted terrible, it did clear one’s mind and lift one’s spirits after drinking it, which was a small comfort.

As the liquid entered her mouth, Lilia was slightly stunned. It still had that same rich aroma, but the usual bitterness was gone, replaced by a sweet taste. This aromatic sweetness made Lilia unable to resist taking another sip.

“How is it?” Seeing Lilia take sip after sip, Victor grinned proudly.

“My lord, is this really the same coffee as last time?” Lilia asked in surprise, carefully savoring the sweet fragrance in her mouth.

“I added sugarcane juice to it. Isn’t it delicious?”

“It’s really delicious!” Lilia smiled, embarrassed, and couldn’t help but take another sip.

“I told you this coffee would make us a fortune! I wasn’t wrong, was I?”

Victor excitedly pumped his fist, stood up, and paced a few steps, then shook his head and sighed, “Unfortunately, sugarcane juice is difficult to preserve. If we want to make money from coffee, we’ll have to wait until we’ve developed cane sugar.”

When Victor turned around, he found that Lilia had secretly finished all the coffee in her pottery cup. He couldn’t help but shake his head and laugh. This girl, she had looked so reluctant at first, like a martyr going to her doom.

Seeing Victor looking at her with a smile, Lilia unconsciously stuck out her little tongue. Then she suddenly remembered the noble etiquette Victor had taught her and quickly brought her slender legs together, sat up straight, and straightened the hair by her ear, adopting the posture of a proper lady. Her crimson face, however, was utterly adorable.

“Go on, what did you come to see me about?” Victor said with a smile.

“My lord, today a freeman chief killed a freeman who wanted to join our camp, right in front of our villager group!”

“What?!”

Chapter 45: Go All Out

In her sweet, songbird-like voice, Lilia described the entire course of events in detail, while Victor sank into deep thought.

Victor accepted all freemen who came to his camp, which meant that the other freemen leaders had, to varying degrees, planted some eyes and ears in Victor’s camp. They thought they knew the camp’s details like the back of their hands, but they had no idea that Victor knew their own details even better.

Hill Camp had already taken in over one hundred freemen. From their mouths, Victor had recorded all the information he learned.

Currently, there were eleven freemen camps in Victor’s territory. Besides two large camps, there were three medium-sized camps with over one hundred people and six small camps with fewer than one hundred people, totaling over one thousand individuals.

Victor had some understanding of the names, personalities, number of trusted subordinates, and areas of activity of these camp leaders. After compiling and supplementing this information over a period of time, Victor discovered that, with the exception of Bayr from Flatlake Village, the other freemen leaders were all forceful and tyrannical individuals. They always gathered strong followers to oppress the weaker members. They would use ruthless measures to suppress anyone who dared to defy them, until everyone grew accustomed to their rule.

Now, these freemen leaders had become the biggest obstacle to Victor absorbing more freemen.

Victor had originally thought that when the freemen heard they could gain the status of subjects simply by joining Hill Camp, they would flock to him in droves. But reality was not so kind.

In the beginning, some freemen had trickled in to join the camp, but the numbers were not large. After investigating, Victor found that these people had secretly run over while taking the opportunity to forage for food, because they feared their leaders would stop them.

This situation made Victor realize the defiant and untamable nature and ambition of the freemen leaders. To intimidate them, he had once sent his guards to patrol the entire territory with the Ogre’s head.

As expected, these freemen leaders were greatly shaken and no longer dared to openly oppose Victor’s policies. The number of freemen joining the camp began to increase.

But this intimidation was clearly not enough. As time went on, these freemen leaders learned more about the lord’s situation. They no longer allowed their members to leave their control. To prevent freemen from joining Hill Camp, they began to strictly control their subordinates’ movements and used extreme and bloody methods against escapees.

The most obvious change was that fewer and fewer freemen had been joining Hill Camp recently. Even those who did were covered in bruises and terrified, clearly having been pursued. In the last two days, not a single freeman had been seen.

By questioning the recent arrivals, Victor understood the thoughts of those refugee leaders. They were unwilling to give up their current power and status. They knew Victor had no knights under his command, and that the Ogre, who was invincible to ordinary people, had been killed by a knight from the York family. And the York family’s knight was about to leave. They wanted to wait until the York family knight had left before negotiating with Victor to preserve their current status.

Victor was furious about this. He desperately needed freemen to join to supplement the camp’s manpower and, at the same time, to better conceal the alchemical humans.

He had been contemplating a countermeasure for the past two days, but he never expected that a freeman leader would dare to shoot and kill a freeman who was trying to join Hill Camp right in front of his subjects.

This incident enraged Victor. If they would kill a freeman trying to seek refuge with him now, would they dare to lay a hand on his own subjects in the future?

Beyond his anger, Victor felt a deep sense of powerlessness and frustration. He began to doubt whether his conciliatory approach had been wrong. After all, this was no longer the Earth he was familiar with, nor was it the orderly Royal Capital of Gambia.

“Lilia, what are your thoughts on this matter?” Victor very much wanted to hear the young mercenary’s opinion at this moment.

“My lord, I think they need a lesson!” Lilia said softly.

“Be more specific.”

“My lord, the reason these refugee leaders dare to do this is that they think we are not strong enough, so…”

Lilia secretly observed Victor’s expression and saw that her lord was looking at her with encouragement. She gritted her teeth and continued, “So, we must give them a bloody lesson, to let them know who the master of this territory truly is!”

“We need to kill some of the disobedient ones. If that’s not enough to intimidate them, then we keep killing until all the disobedient ones are dead!”

The answer was what Victor had expected, but hearing such bloodthirsty, matter-of-fact words from a beautiful young woman still made him feel extremely awkward.

“My lord… did I say something wrong? This is how we used to handle things…” Seeing Victor’s serious expression, Lilia asked timidly.

Lilia was very fond of Victor, right from the very beginning. What young woman wouldn’t be fond of a handsome and elegant young Baron? But it was only a secret crush.

Lilia was very clear about her own status. A mercenary, a freeman girl—how could she possibly catch the eye of a lord? This was destined to be just a dream.

However, this dream was becoming a reality. Ever since Victor began to personally teach her how to manage the camp’s internal affairs, everyone believed she would become the lord’s legal partner. Lilia was both delighted and terrified by this. She studied hard, striving to do everything to the best of her ability, not wanting to disappoint Victor. This was despite the fact that Victor had never explicitly stated it.

Recently, Victor had started teaching her some noble etiquette. Lilia was a very serious student. She tried her best to learn the noble way of speaking and to understand the noble perspective on issues. She wanted to change herself, to make herself worthy of the status of a noble’s consort.

But Victor’s solemn expression frightened her. She felt she must have just said the wrong thing, that she hadn’t behaved like a noble’s personal handmaiden. She was still that crude mercenary girl. Shimmering tears were already welling in her eyes.

Seeing Lilia’s aggrieved look, Victor felt both amused and touched. He said softly, “Lilia, you didn’t say anything wrong. I wanted to hear your true thoughts. But…”

Victor paused and then asked, “Lilia, have you ever killed someone?”

Victor’s gentle attitude greatly reassured Lilia. After a moment’s thought, she answered truthfully, “I have. When I was twelve.”

“Have you ever thought that the people you killed were also flesh and blood, that they felt pain and fear, that their families would also grieve? Have you ever thought about that?”

Victor was slightly agitated. He had personally ended the lives of Gnolls, more than one, but those were just man-eating beasts, at least in his eyes. But now, he might have to make a decision that even he himself feared. This was by no means an easy or simple matter.

“I haven’t thought that much about it. I grew up in a mercenary company. My parents died when I was very young. Besides my brother Narsen, I once had another older sister and an older brother. They are also dead, killed at the hands of refugees. That day, the members of the mercenary company were out on a mission, and a group of refugees attacked our encampment. Only the old, the weak, women, and children were left to guard it. We sacrificed many people to repel those refugees. It was then that I personally shot and killed two refugees, and I also lost my brother and sister. Afterwards, the mercenary company killed every last one of the group that had attacked us. In truth, those refugees were just like us, trying to survive. They only attacked us because they thought we were weak.”

The young woman’s calm narration greatly shook Victor. He finally, viscerally, understood that this was not a peaceful world. This world operated on the law of the jungle, and civilization was something that existed only between nobles.

“You’re right. We should give them a bloody lesson!” After a moment of silence, Victor said in a strained voice.

“My lord, did I seem very crude?” Lilia wasn’t concerned with Victor’s decision, but instead lowered her head and asked nervously.

“No. Actually, I like the real you. It’s just that in the future, you’ll be assisting me in governing this territory, and you’ll surely have to interact with other nobles, so…”

“Really?!” Before Victor could finish, Lilia exclaimed in pleasant surprise.

Lilia was bursting with joy. This was the first time she had received a clear indication from Victor’s own mouth. A great sense of happiness enveloped her, and she even felt a little dizzy. At this moment, she truly couldn’t be bothered with noble composure.

“What? You’re not willing to be my personal handmaiden?” Victor decided to tease Lilia a little.

Lilia quickly shook her head, then felt that was wrong and hurriedly nodded. That still seemed wrong, so she could only say anxiously, “I am willing! I am willing!” As soon as she finished, she blushed beet red with shyness.

Seeing Lilia’s adorable appearance, Victor couldn’t help but laugh out loud, and his gloomy mood immediately improved a great deal.

“Alright, go and call your brother. This matter still needs his consent, and I also have some things for him to do,” Victor said softly.

“Hmph! He wouldn’t dare disagree!” Lilia pouted her red lips coquettishly.

Although Narsen and Lilia were siblings, there was a full sixteen-year age gap between them. Narsen was like both a brother and a father to Lilia, doting on her immensely.

“Right, my lord, there’s one more thing I need to tell you. It’s about that new recruit, Reno. I think he’s very suspicious. We should investigate him secretly,” Lilia said, not immediately going to find Narsen, but turning to Victor with a serious expression.

“Oh? What have you discovered?” Victor’s heart skipped a beat, but he feigned a casual demeanor.

“This Reno is too strong. Other than my brother, no one else in the camp is his match. Someone with his strength should be a freeman leader, so why would he join us alone? And he usually pretends to be a fool. That’s why I think he’s very suspicious!”

Hearing Lilia’s question, Victor sighed inwardly. This was why he didn’t allow the War Bear members to get involved in freemen affairs; they were far more vigilant than ordinary subjects.

“What’s one Reno? In the future, as the territory develops, even more powerful knights will join our land. Lilia, you need to understand that your status is different now. As a leader of this territory, we should be happy to see powerful people seeking refuge with us.”

“But…”

“I will instruct Moline to observe Reno in secret. If he is truly willing to serve us, I won’t be concerned with his past. Lilia, we especially need capable people to join the territory right now. You must understand this. Now, go and get Narsen,” Victor interrupted Lilia, then reached out and gently stroked the young woman’s smooth cheek a few times.

As expected, the young woman blushed and nodded, no longer fixated on the previous issue. She gave a soft “Mm,” then turned and left the room, her steps a little flustered. Victor’s intimate gesture had thrown her heart into a flutter.

Not long after, Narsen stood before Victor. Despite his efforts to restrain himself, an unconcealable joy showed in his expression.

On one hand, Lord Victor was finally going to clarify Lilia’s status to him, something he had long been waiting for. On the other hand, Lord Victor was finally going to take action against those refugees, something he had long been enduring.

“Narsen, I am very fond of Lilia. I wish to take her as my personal handmaiden. Now, I need to hear your opinion,” Victor said to Narsen with a smile. In truth, he felt a little ashamed and uneasy; after all, he was taking away someone’s sister to be his concubine.

Narsen scratched his head. He had originally intended to offer a few polite words, but when they reached his lips, they turned into three simple, crisp words.

“I agree.”

Victor nodded, stood up, and said solemnly to Narsen, “I promise you, I will treat Lilia well, cherish her, love her, protect her, and strive to give her happiness. Please rest assured.”

Victor’s solemn attitude moved Narsen. He gave Victor a deep bow and said, “Thank you, my lord!”

“Alright, this matter is settled then. Now, let’s discuss the freemen problem.”

Victor gestured for Narsen to sit down, then continued, “If we don’t take measures against the freemen, what do you think will happen?”

“My lord, the best-case scenario is that things remain as they are now. The worst-case scenario is that they will unite and attack us!”

Narsen continued in a deep voice, “But, no matter which scenario, we cannot accept it, because this territory can only have one voice, and that is your voice, my lord! It’s not that we need to make them understand this point; we must make it so!”

Victor understood Narsen’s meaning. These freemen leaders were opportunists, like hyenas. If they thought you were weak and easily bullied, they would tear you apart and devour you. Therefore, they had to be eliminated or driven away, just as a tiger would not allow hyenas to roam its territory.

“Do you have a plan?” Victor asked softly. It had finally come to this.

“My lord, my plan is to first take out the three medium-sized freemen camps in the territory. Let everyone in the land know that even though we don’t have a knight, we are not someone they can challenge!” Narsen said calmly.

Narsen had long been prepared. The two large freemen camps in the territory were not something they could take on at the moment, so they could be set aside for now. Attacking the small camps wouldn’t be enough to intimidate everyone, so the three medium-sized camps became his target.

“And what will the situation be like afterward?” Victor asked. He wasn’t worried that Narsen couldn’t take out these three camps; he was well aware that Narsen’s strength was no less than that of a typical knight.

“Afterward, some of the freemen leaders will take their people and leave this territory. Some will seek refuge with Flatlake Village, and some will be killed by the freemen under them, who will then bring us those heads to pledge their allegiance,” Narsen said with a disdainful smile. He knew the minds of these people all too well.

Victor nodded. He could accept this outcome. The camp in the east was secretly managed by the Chepman family; in fact, even that land was already under the Chepman family’s control. For now, they could only choose to accept it. As for Flatlake Village, it was populous and its strength was not much weaker than Victor’s Hill Camp. A direct assault would result in heavy losses and wouldn’t be worth it. Moreover, the villagers of Flatlake Village were already Victor’s subjects in name and had begun to pay tribute on time. As long as they paid tribute, their strength would slowly weaken, while Victor’s would grow. Not to mention, Victor had already set a plan in motion to try and break them down from within.

Victor took out a piece of parchment, began to write on it with a quill, and then pressed his lord’s seal firmly into the wax on the parchment. Finally, he handed the parchment to Narsen.

This was an order to exterminate bandits written by Victor. It declared that Victor had identified a group of bandits entrenched in his territory, and he was now ordering his Guard Captain to annihilate them.

This document was of great significance to Narsen, because it meant his actions were authorized by Victor, and Victor would bear all the consequences.

Most lords would never sign such a document so easily. If the Radiant Church were to investigate, they would be in trouble. Therefore, lords often chose to hire mercenary companies to clear their lands of disobedient freemen. This was a small trick in the nobles’ struggle against the Church.

“I will not disappoint you, my lord!” Narsen quietly accepted the document, his icy voice filled with a cold and bloody aura.

“Narsen!” Just as Narsen was about to leave, Victor called out to him.

Narsen turned, waiting for his lord’s command. But Victor just said one thing softly to him.

“Go all out.”

Giving Victor a deep look, Narsen left the room, his body suffused with killing intent.

Originally, Victor had wanted to ask Narsen to kill as few of the oppressed as possible, but this was a life-and-death battle. Who would have the time to distinguish between people? Who could be considered safe? It was better for an amateur not to interfere with a professional.

Heaven helps those who help themselves. Since you have already numbly abandoned the right to fight against your own fate, then you can all accept the end result of destruction together.

Chapter 46: The Bear of the Northlands

A clarion horn blast echoed through Hill Camp, instantly shattering its orderly peace.

The villagers of Hill Camp put down their work and converged on the camp’s training field. They were surprised and curious, yet showed no signs of panic or unrest, for this was not the alarm for an enemy attack, but the horn call to march to war.

Squads of armored, weapon-wielding soldiers had already gathered on the training field. They were all militia members Narsen had selected from among the subjects. After a period of training and culling, they had become the camp’s full-time guards.

There was a fundamental difference between guards and militia. The militia were defenders chosen by a village or town head from among the subjects under their jurisdiction. They were poorly equipped, received a certain degree of training, and were paid during wartime, but they were essentially still subjects. Guards, on the other hand, were professional soldiers. They were well-equipped, highly trained, and served as the lord’s direct armed force.

Victor currently had a formal guard unit of ninety-four men. Apart from the thirty-six War Bear Mercenaries, the rest were ordinary young men. Narsen commanded the entire guard unit as its undisputed captain. He divided the guards into three squads, leading one himself, while Gru and Iron Hammer served as squad leaders for the other two.

At Narsen’s request, Victor had allowed these guards to disengage completely from productive labor to focus solely on military training, and he had granted each of them ten mu of land. In addition, these guards earned ten work points a day, an amount that was doubled when they were on a mission.

These guards were uniformly equipped with standard-issue York family chainmail, iron helmets, hardened leather boots, Iron-oak round shields, and one-handed spears. Although a nobleman might not consider this equipment particularly fine, in the eyes of the War Bear Mercenaries, it was all rare and high-quality gear.

Each of these sets had cost Victor twenty Gold Sols, purchased from that greedy Quartermaster in Black Fortress Town. At the time, Victor had contested the price, as twenty Gold Sols could buy five bulls according to the prices in Black Fortress Town back then.

The Quartermaster, however, told Victor that the price was already fifty percent off; the equipment was being sold to him as decommissioned surplus. Only then did Victor understand how expensive it was for a lord to support a single soldier. A single set of ordinary equipment from the York family was worth as much as ten bulls. This was also why Baron Eskri could only afford to maintain a few dozen soldiers.

Supporting these ninety-odd guards was already the limit of what Victor could bear, and today, these men would prove their worth to him.

“What are Captain Narsen and the others doing?” a subject asked the person next to him, puzzled.

“I hear they’re going to punish those wretched refugees.”

“Ah?! That’s wonderful! It’s high time those shameful thieves were taught a harsh lesson!”

“That’s right! They should’ve done this long ago!”

“Shaun! Make sure you kill a few more of those damned bandits! When you get back, I’ll treat you to Purple Cane wine at the small canteen!”

“Captain Narsen! Don’t show any mercy to those robbers!”

Upon hearing that the guards were going to suppress the freemen in the territory, the subjects in the camp grew ecstatic. They rushed about excitedly, spreading the news as if it were a festival.

Standing in the upper camp, Victor watched the noisy, joyful crowd below and only then realized that his subjects harbored a deep-seated enmity towards the freemen in the territory.

In truth, this was normal. To the subjects, these freemen were nothing more than a band of marauders stealing their property. In fact, no lord would allow a group of freemen to remain in their territory for long, as these organized groups posed a threat to the land’s security. Only scattered freemen were conditionally accepted to perform menial and dangerous jobs.

One by one, the fully armed squads of guards marched out of the camp under Narsen’s command, embarking on their campaign. Victor did not accompany them. As the most fearsome sharpshooter in the camp, he needed to defend Hill Camp while the guards were away. However, he knew that one day he, too, would have to face this bloody reality, and Victor had already resolved himself to that fact!

In a wooden hut in a freemen’s camp, several men were gathered around a table, eating, drinking, and talking.

“Who would’ve thought that useless Purple Cane could be used to make wine, and that it would taste this good! Come! Let’s toast to that respectable little lord. Thank him for inventing such fine wine. Hahaha.” A man drained his cup of Purple Cane wine in one gulp and jeered.

“A lord without a knight or a castle can be called a lord?” another man said with disdain.

“Of course he’s a lord. We should hope he remains the lord here. Wouldn’t that be great? He can be the lord, and we can continue living our carefree lives. Maybe I could even snag the position of village head,” a skinny old man said with a sinister smile.

His name was Uze, and he was the leader of this freemen’s camp.

Unlike other strong and brutish freemen leaders, Uze was old and frail. He ruled these freemen through cunning and treachery.

“This Purple Cane wine will make us a fortune. We need to arrange for men to gather more Purple Cane. Stop cutting the cane near our camp; go and harvest it near the other camps,” Uze ordered, draining his cup and addressing the others.

Uze was the first freemen leader to send spies to Hill Camp. When he learned that Victor was using Purple Cane to make wine, he began to try brewing it himself. Today was the first time they had tasted it.

“Chief, isn’t there still a lot of Purple Cane nearby? Why go so far to harvest it?” a burly man asked, confused. In his view, the farther they went, the greater the risk, and it could lead to conflicts with other freemen camps, since everyone had their own territory.

“There’s more to it than you think…” Uze drawled with a smile. Seeing everyone craning their necks waiting for his explanation, he laughed with pleasure.

Uze loved seeing his foolish subordinates look to him for guidance. He considered himself a smart man, and smart men were born to be leaders.

“Right now, besides the little lord and us, no one knows the value of Purple Cane. Unfortunately, it won’t be long before this secret is out, and all the freemen camps will know. After all, they have spies in the little lord’s camp too. So, we must take advantage of their ignorance and go cut the Purple Cane near their camps. By the time they figure it out, we’ll have made a huge profit.”

“Also, the little lord has forbidden anyone in the territory from cutting down Purple Cane. Everyone knows this. But if he discovers that those other freemen camps are defying his orders, what do you think he’ll do?”

“He’ll send his guards to wipe them out. But it’s a pity he has no knights, so he’s bound to suffer heavy losses. When both sides are badly wounded, we will join his camp as a group and help him eliminate the other freemen.”

“By then, we’ll become vassals in this territory, and the severely weakened little lord will be under our control. We’ll make more money selling Purple Cane wine, recruit more men in the little lord’s name, and then brand Bayr’s group as bandits and ask the York family’s knights to kill them all!”

“Finally, this territory will be ours!” Uze announced his plan triumphantly to his stunned subordinates.

“Haha, brilliant!”

“That’s our Chief for you!”

His subordinates lavished him with flattery, their eyes red with excitement at the future Uze had painted for them.

Just as Uze and his men were fantasizing about the future, a freeman ran in, panicked, and shouted, “Chief! It’s bad! The lord’s guards are here to kill us!”

Uze was a little stunned. What was happening? This wasn’t supposed to happen!

Narsen sat astride a powerful warhorse, his gaze fixed coldly on the freemen camp before him. His blue-black armor exuded an air of cold ruthlessness, just like his mood at that moment.

Victor was the most peculiar nobleman Narsen had ever met. He possessed the elegance and wisdom of a noble but none of the arrogance or cruelty. Narsen could clearly feel Victor’s respect for everyone, not just for powerful Ferocious warriors like himself, but also for ordinary members of the War Bear company. This was the main reason he was so devoted to Victor.

The only thing that dissatisfied Narsen was Victor’s leniency towards the freemen. This was probably because the lord was too young and hadn’t yet realized the danger these freemen posed to his territory. That was what Narsen thought.

Narsen had never had a good impression of unruly groups of freemen; in fact, he loathed them. Even though the War Bear Mercenaries had been a group of freemen themselves two months ago, he had always believed they were different. Every time they entered a nobleman’s territory, they would dutifully report to the magistrate and pay their taxes in full. The War Bear Mercenary Company was a group that followed the lord’s rules.

What’s more, freemen had once killed his kin. And now, these detestable, rat-like creatures were plundering his lord’s wealth right here in his territory!

Narsen’s strong heart pulsed in his chest, pumping blood to every corner of his body. His muscles tensed, and the steel axe handle he gripped groaned and creaked in his hand. The sight of the large swathes of felled Purple Cane forest around the freemen’s camp made his blood boil.

Victor had told Narsen about the value of the Purple Cane forests. At first, Narsen had been skeptical, but the success of the Purple Cane wine had filled him with anticipation for the sugar that could replace honey. Thus, in his eyes, these four-to-five-meter-tall Purple Canes had become plants made of silver!

As for why not gold? That was because Victor had told him that the sheer quantity of sugar would make it impossible to sell at the price of honey. Although Narsen didn’t quite understand, out of respect for Lord Victor, he downgraded the gold to silver. In any case, there was plenty of Purple Cane here. Even if it was made of silver, it still represented a fortune beyond his wildest imagination!

Yet these freemen dared to defy his lord’s command and cut down these precious Purple Canes! They were unforgivable!

Narsen exhaled sharply. The hot breath from his mouth and nose met the frigid air, forming a plume of white mist that shot out more than two feet. As an experienced mercenary, he understood deeply that one must never be swayed by anger in battle.

“Uncle Baritt, same as always. I’ll lead the charge into the camp to lower the drawbridge. You’ll be in command of the rest of the men,” Narsen said, loosening his grip on his axe handle, to a wiry old mercenary beside him.

“Don’t you worry, Narsen, you brat. A bandit camp of a little over a hundred people, you think they can stop our War Bear company?!” Baritt said in a raspy voice.

Baritt was a veteran among the War Bear Mercenaries. He wasn’t as strong as the others, and his martial skills were average, but he was a master archer and extremely calm in battle. He was the War Bear Mercenaries’ battlefield commander. Narsen always led the charge, while Baritt directed the overall situation from the rear.

“I hope not too many of these new recruits die in this fight…” Narsen said worriedly, glancing at the new guards.

Although these guards were all strong and well-equipped, they hadn’t been training for long and couldn’t be considered elite, well-drilled soldiers. In a brutal battle, there would certainly be casualties.

“Lad, since when did you get so fussy? The new recruits we used to take in never had equipment or training like this. Didn’t they all have to hone their skills in battle? If they forget everything I’ve taught them, then so be it if they die.”

Baritt glanced at the new recruits with some dissatisfaction. Unlike the calm and aloof War Bear mercenaries, they were a mix of excited, bloodthirsty, nervous, and fearful. These emotions would make them make mistakes, either getting themselves killed or their comrades killed. Only blood and death, not endless training, could forge these men into proper warriors.

“You’re right. I have changed. We’ve all changed. We went from being freemen to vassals. We used to have nothing but our lives, but now we have land, wealth, and status. But one thing hasn’t changed. We will show no mercy to these bandits!”

Narsen smiled calmly and said to Gru, who was standing to one side, “Go and deliver the call!”

Gru, holding a tower shield, walked to the front gate of the camp and shouted, “Listen up, you people inside! By order of the lord, Victor Wimbledon, you have one quarter of an hour to open the gate and surrender! Otherwise, you will be annihilated!”

The response was a crossbow bolt from the arrow tower, which Gru blocked with his shield.

“Captain, it seems they’ve made their choice,” Gru said, returning to Narsen’s side. He grinned as he held up his shield with the arrow stuck in it, showing no anger at the rejection. He was quite satisfied with this outcome.

Narsen nodded, then rode his horse to the front of his formation and bellowed to his guards, “Soldiers! The bandits have refused our goodwill! We will level this camp!”

“Everyone, listen up! Form groups of five! Three spearmen in the center, two sword-and-shield men to protect the flanks!”

“Kill every enemy that comes within your attack range, whether man or woman, old or child! Do not let a single enemy live to get behind you! Show no mercy or hesitation! Remember! The battle does not end until the drum falls silent!”

“If anyone is injured, retreat on your own! If you can’t walk, lie where you are! If a squad is reduced to three men, merge with the nearest squad!”

After shouting his orders, Narsen returned to his previous position and whispered to Baritt, “Uncle Baritt, don’t kill too many! Lord Victor does not approve of pointless slaughter, and we can’t let the Radiant Church cause us trouble.”

Baritt was the one who would decide when to stop the battle. Until he gave the order, all the guards had to continue fighting and killing.

“Don’t worry! For the way Lord Victor treats our old, disabled pals alone, I will not disappoint him,” Baritt replied solemnly.

When Victor came to take up his post, he had provided two thousand Gold Sols to provide for the disabled members of the War Bears. This deeply moved every single one of them. Two thousand Gold Sols was, by any measure, a massive sum.

“Good! I’m going in!”

“Go on, let these bandits have a taste of the Bear of the Northlands’ might!”

At this, Narsen smiled. The Bear of the Northlands was precisely the moniker he had earned for himself in the Dodor Kingdom.

“Fire!”

At the command, under the cover of tower shields, the War Bear crossbowmen fired volley after volley from their military-grade heavy crossbows at the archers in the arrow tower. Despite their disadvantage in terrain, the heavy crossbows lived up to their reputation as weapons that could threaten even a Knight. The bolts they fired soared across dozens of meters, piercing the bodies of the freemen archers and sending them screaming down from the high towers. The remaining defenders no longer dared to peek over the wooden railings to shoot at the guards below.

Once the camp’s arrow towers were suppressed, Narsen made his move.

The two-hundred-pound suit of full plate armor felt as light as a feather on him. He kicked off powerfully, leaped over the three-meter-wide ditch, and charged straight for the sturdy wooden stockade.

With his twin axes crossed over his chest, Narsen slammed into it with his entire body. Before this Ferocious warrior with a Physique of twenty, the solid Iron-oak stockade was like paper. It instantly shattered, leaving a huge gaping hole. Narsen had breached the camp.

Narsen’s roar immediately echoed from within the camp, along with the sounds of battle and agonized screams. The War Bear members outside didn’t stand idle. Several wooden planks were quickly laid across the ditch, and a dozen elite warriors in chainmail, armed with spears and shields, poured through the opening in the stockade and into the camp. They would assist Narsen in lowering the drawbridge so the main force could enter.

At that moment, Narsen was truly like a berserk bear. Beneath his blue-black armor were bulging muscles, and his sharp axes were the bear’s claws. Any enemy who came within his reach was cleaved and sent flying, often breaking into two pieces in mid-air. Blood splattered everywhere, and those who weren’t killed instantly lay on the ground, wailing shrilly.

For mercenaries, in close-quarters combat, cruelty and gore were a necessary mercy. It would strike terror into the enemy, causing them to lose their will to fight and eventually lay down their arms. Only then could more people on both sides survive.

It was truly a cruel mercy.

The freemen in the camp no longer dared to face Narsen head-on. They began shooting at him from a distance with hunting bows and crossbows, but their arrows were completely useless against his full plate armor.

A javelin pierced a crossbowman who was firing at Narsen. With the arrival of a dozen more elite War Bears, the freemen who were still trying to resist finally broke completely.

Soon, the ropes of the drawbridge were cut, and the guards behind them swarmed in, storming the camp.

The battle ended quickly. Once the main force of guards rushed in, the freemen in the camp fell to their knees and surrendered one after another, as most of the die-hard resisters had already been slaughtered by Narsen and his elite subordinates.

The drum to cease fighting soon sounded. The guards were surprised to find the battle easier than they had imagined. Most of them hadn’t even drawn blood yet, and their casualties were pitifully low. Only one unlucky fellow had accidentally fallen into the ditch while crossing the drawbridge and was seriously injured…

Fierce flames rose from the camp as the guards put the entire freemen settlement to the torch.

Uze hid among the surrendering freemen, his heart bleeding as he watched the camp burn.

Damn it all, who said the little lord had no knights? If that guard captain who destroyed my camp isn’t a knight, then what is he? An Ogre in disguise? Liars! Damned swine! Uze cursed his spy frantically in his mind.

However, Narsen did not let him go.

“You’re the bandit leader, Uze?”

Narsen approached Uze, axe in hand. When he had been drawing up his battle plan, Victor had given him information on the freemen leaders.

“Sir Knight, I am not a bandit. I am just a humble freeman,” Uze stammered, bowing repeatedly to Narsen. The bloody methods of this powerful warrior filled him with a fear that came from the depths of his soul.

“To defy Lord Victor’s command is to be a bandit! Now die!”

Narsen coldly raised his sharp axe. Not a single freemen leader was to be spared! That was Lord Victor’s order.

“Wait! A Knight cannot kill a surrendered freeman at will! It is the teaching of the Lord of Radiance! You will be punished by the Church!” Uze screamed, making a last-ditch effort to survive.

Splat!

With a single, unhesitating stroke, Narsen cleaved Uze in two.

“I am not a Knight! But I have killed Knights! I am Narsen, the Bear of the Northlands!”

Bathed in blood, Narsen stood before the burning hut. He tossed the parchment scroll in his hand into the flames and watched it burn to black ash. It was the bandit extermination writ Victor had signed for him.

“To the next camp!” Narsen vaulted onto his horse, his expression firm and merciless.

From that day on, the name of the Bear of the Northlands, carried on blood and fire, began to spread throughout the territory.

Chapter 47: Earl Chepman

Harvest Manor was one of the oldest noble manors in the Kingdom of Gambia, with a history stretching back more than two hundred years.

The manor covered an area of over seven hundred mu and consisted of a surrounding wall, animal pens, a well, a pond, houses, storehouses, barracks, farmland, and an orchard. Unlike other noble manors, Harvest Manor had no beautiful gardens or exquisitely designed buildings. Instead, its wide-open spaces were filled with crops, vegetables, and fruit trees.

Aside from the sturdy graystone walls, most of the buildings in the manor were made of brick and tile. Their designs were simple and stately, without any superfluous decoration, instead utilizing space to the absolute maximum. Only the mottled green moss on the brick walls bore witness to the noble manor’s long history.

This farmhouse-style noble manor was a perfect reflection of the Chepman family’s style: frugal and practical.

At dusk, a simple yet sturdy carriage rolled slowly and unimpeded into Harvest Manor. The guards of the manor all recognized it as the carriage of the family’s Great Knight, Lord DeWitt.

DeWitt, carrying his Mithril longsword, stepped down from the carriage. A servant immediately approached, bowing in greeting.

“Take me to see the Earl. I have an urgent matter to report,” DeWitt said to the servant with a nod.

Then, DeWitt followed the servant’s lead deep into the manor.

Behind the manor’s main building lay a small patch of green. Though the cold Season of Water had not yet passed, the grass here was a lush, verdant carpet. It was a rare type of evergreen grass that remained green year-round. Though it never flowered, it exuded a fresh, invigorating scent that could soothe any soul.

On this lawn, DeWitt saw his master, Earl Timoke Chepman.

“DeWitt, if you’re not in a hurry, wait a moment. Let me finish my dinner,” Earl Chepman called out as he saw DeWitt approach. The Earl was seated at a table, enjoying his evening meal.

He had to finish his dinner before the sun set completely. That way, he could save a candle—a habit he had inherited from the old Earl.

DeWitt said nothing, merely raising his left hand to signal that his master should take his time. As the Chepman family’s Great Knight, he was of course familiar with the Earl’s habits.

A servant quickly brought a chair for DeWitt. After sitting down, he took a deep breath, drawing the unique, refreshing scent of the evergreen grass into his lungs. The pleasant aroma was enough to intoxicate even a Silver Knight.

It was said that there were only two places in the entire Kingdom of Gambia with lawns of this evergreen grass: one was the Chepman family’s Harvest Manor, and the other was in the Gambis Royal Family’s garden.

The evergreen grass at Harvest Manor had grown from a small patch of turf that Earl Chepman had dug up from the royal garden when he was a boy, which had then been cultivated for decades.

As for why only such a small lawn had been cultivated, it was because the old Earl believed it was unnecessary to cover precious land with such grass. Land was meant for growing crops, and a small patch of evergreen grass was sufficient to display the Chepman family’s noble heritage.

Earl Chepman focused on enjoying his dinner. He had to speed up; although he was DeWitt’s master, it was still somewhat impolite to hold a conversation with a Silver-rank Great Knight in the dark.

Earl Chepman looked to be in his thirties. He had a somber disposition, a gaunt face, narrow eyes, and a Fu Manchu-style mustache above his thin lips. He wore a black, casual Earl’s attire. Though the clothing appeared smooth, lustrous, and impeccably neat, its style was decades old, and there were faint signs of wear on the cuffs.

The outfit, combined with the Earl’s features, made him look both harsh and old-fashioned.

At that moment, the Earl sat upright at the table, wielding a knife and fork as he dealt with his dinner—a leg of argali sheep roasted to a golden brown. His posture was elegant, his movements unhurried, perfectly adhering to the dining etiquette of the nobility. Not even the most fastidious court noble could find a single fault.

But the Earl was eating at a frightening speed. Amid a flurry of the knife and fork, slices of mutton of identical size were carved from the leg and brought to his mouth. The swift movements possessed a strange rhythm that was, surprisingly, a pleasing sight to behold.

Soon, all the meat on the entire roasted leg had been devoured by Earl Chepman, leaving only a smooth, clean bone. Even the most famished Goblin couldn’t find a scrap of meat on it.

Earl Chepman lightly tapped the middle of the leg bone with the dining knife in his right hand. A flash of greenish-blue aura flickered and vanished. The hard bone immediately split in two, revealing the snow-white marrow within its cavity.

The Earl brought his mouth close. From a distance of several centimeters, he took a light suck, and the marrow immediately flowed into his mouth as if it had a life of its own.

Having done all this, Earl Chepman contentedly drained the water from his cup. A servant standing by immediately stepped forward to clear the table of the utensils and the sheep bone. According to the Chepman family’s rules, he had to grind the bone into powder to feed the manor’s hounds.

“My lord, your control over your Aura is so exquisitely fine. I fear you will soon step into the pinnacle realm, will you not?” DeWitt couldn’t help but exclaim in admiration, having seen the natural ease with which the Earl had used his Aura to crack the sheep bone.

“The Gold rank isn’t so easy to achieve. I’ve been at the peak of Silver for a full ten years, and even now, I can’t sense the existence of the Elemental Sea. It seems that advancing to the pinnacle realm is impossible just by honing one’s Aura. The most important thing is still the elemental affinity of one’s Bloodline talent, like that of Princess Royal Roland,” Earl Chepman said with a bitter smile, shaking his head.

DeWitt was momentarily speechless. He knew his master was one of the kingdom’s veteran Silver Knights and had long polished his Aura to a state of smooth purity, yet the Gold rank remained a distant dream. Meanwhile, Princess Royal Roland of the kingdom had successfully advanced to Gold Knight at the age of twenty-three. Such talent was simply terrifying.

“DeWitt, you didn’t come to see me today just to discuss the way of the Knight, did you?” Earl Chepman said to DeWitt with a smile. As an enfeoffed earl, he wasn’t overly concerned with whether he could advance to Gold Knight. He was far more eager to see his family grow stronger and its lineage continue unbroken. That was his responsibility as a lord.

“Indeed. I just returned from escorting a cart of Mithril ore. The quality of the ore this time is higher than the previous two shipments. This cartload alone is enough to refine one pound of Mithril,” DeWitt said, collecting his thoughts and reporting to the Earl.

“Oh, that’s good news!” A genuine smile spread across Earl Chepman’s face upon hearing DeWitt’s report.

“And there’s even better news. Our miners have discovered that the silver ore in that mine is becoming scarcer, while the Mithril ore is becoming more abundant.” DeWitt paused, then continued, “This means that the vein isn’t a silver mine with a byproduct of Mithril, but a Mithril mine with a byproduct of silver!”

“Ha! Ha! Ha! That is the best news I’ve heard in years!” Earl Chepman could no longer contain his ecstasy and laughed out loud.

“My lord, the plan I had someone report to you last time, regarding control of that territory, will likely need to be changed,” DeWitt said softly after Earl Chepman’s emotions had calmed.

Some time ago, after learning of Victor’s weakness and incompetence, DeWitt had ordered someone to deliver a plan to Earl Chepman for controlling Victor’s fief. But before he could receive the Earl’s reply, a major event had occurred in Victor’s fief, forcing DeWitt to revise the original plan. Thus, he took the opportunity of escorting the Mithril ore back to discuss the matter with Earl Chepman in person.

“My lord, my original plan was to incite those freemen to unite and resist the little lord. After the York family’s Knight left his fief, we would then take control of the freemen and have them move near the little lord’s Hill Camp, establishing camps and strongholds to restrict his range of activity to that area. Finally, our own people would enter the fief disguised as freemen to seize actual control.”

After Earl Chepman motioned for him to continue, DeWitt went on, “Unexpectedly, just four days ago, the little baron’s Guard Captain led his soldiers and broke through three freemen camps in two days, killing more than a hundred of them. Now, the other freemen in the fief are scared out of their wits and no longer dare to defy the little lord’s orders. Some have even killed their original chiefs and flocked to the Hill Camp.”

“Oh? I didn’t expect the little baron to have such a talent under him! What about their own casualties?” Earl Chepman asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

“According to our informant’s report, the little lord’s guard unit suffered only a dozen or so casualties.”

“How could their casualties be so low? Weren’t we told the little baron has no Knights under his command? Could Sophia have secretly dispatched a family Knight to her little husband?” Even if the opponents were weak refugees, killing over a hundred while suffering only a dozen casualties in two days was the kind of crushing victory only a Knight could achieve.

Earl Chepman was truly shocked. He had been so brazenly mining Victor’s Mithril precisely because he was bullying Victor for being a family outcast, with no power and no backing.

But if Marchioness Sophia were to take Victor back, the situation would be different. Although Sophia’s military strength was far inferior to the Chepman family’s, she was fabulously wealthy, well-connected, and possessed immense latent power that could not be underestimated.

On second thought, Earl Chepman felt it was unlikely.

According to reports from family members stationed in the Royal Capital, Marchioness Sophia was fervently pursuing Lord Andre, a Gold Knight from the Borrey United Kingdom.

Although Marchioness Sophia was as rich as a king, her own forces were not strong enough. Thus, she desperately needed to win over a powerful Gold Knight as her backer. Only then could her commercial empire expand further.

Furthermore, there were rumors that her actions had the support of Queen Catherine. Apparently, Her Majesty the Queen also hoped to use the stunningly beautiful Marchioness to win over a powerful Gold Knight to her Prince’s Faction.

That was why Sophia had, in effect, exiled her little boy-toy to the Pioneer Fief. She was unlikely to take the little baron back before achieving her goal. And once she did achieve it, it would probably be the moment her little husband met his end.

“Could the York family have secretly dispatched a Knight, disguised as his Guard Captain?” Earl Chepman asked DeWitt.

This was a strong possibility. As a faction hostile to the Prince’s Faction, the York family had every reason to use Victor’s identity to stir up trouble.

“Neither. The little lord’s Guard Captain is a rare Ferocious warrior named Narsen. He used to be a mercenary and was later recruited by the little lord,” DeWitt explained to the Earl.

“Oh? I didn’t expect the little baron to be so lucky as to recruit a Ferocious warrior,” Earl Chepman said, breathing a sigh of relief upon hearing that neither the York family nor Marchioness Sophia was secretly backing Victor.

“Yes, and this Narsen is no nameless figure. My lord may have even heard of his title—the Bear of the Northlands.”

“The Bear of the Northlands from the Dodor Kingdom? No wonder. A pity,” Earl Chepman said in surprise, then shook his head with regret.

Generally speaking, no number of ordinary people could kill a Knight, just as no number of sheep could kill a lion. But humans in a savage state were not ordinary people. For example, the fierce barbarians of the Terrel Mountains, where an adult barbarian was strong enough to face a Bronze-rank Knight head-on. However, it was rare for an ordinary ferocious human to possess combat power comparable to a Knight, and the Bear of the Northlands was one of the few.

Five years ago, during a military conflict between the Dodor Kingdom and the Sassans, a mercenary company from the Dodor Kingdom was ambushed by a Sasan raiding party led by a Sasan Knight. A fierce battle immediately broke out. To everyone’s surprise, the entire raiding party, including the Sasan Knight, was annihilated. After that battle, the mercenary who had killed the Knight in a direct confrontation earned a title—the Bear of the Northlands.

“Yes, the very same Bear of the Northlands for whom the Tartus family has a bounty of five thousand Gold Sol,” DeWitt confirmed with a nod.

The Tartus family was a powerful military noble family in the Sasan Empire. Ordinarily, the death of a family Knight would not be a major issue for them. But this Knight had been killed in a direct confrontation by a lowly mercenary, and this mercenary had then gained a title by treading on the Tartus family’s name. This they saw as a humiliation, so they offered a bounty of five thousand Gold Sol for the head of the Bear of the Northlands and declared that any family who sheltered him would become an enemy of the Tartus family.

Of course, the nobles of the Dodor Kingdom weren’t about to kill Narsen, who had fought against the Sassans, for a mere five thousand Gold Sol. But neither would they offend the powerful Tartus family for a single Ferocious warrior. After all, in a war between nations, captured family Knights could be ransomed back. If they offended a Sasan noble family, that rule might no longer apply to them.

As the war between Dodor and the Sassans gradually wound down, many of the mercenary companies that had participated were absorbed by the Dodor lords. But the renowned War Bear Mercenaries were ignored. Disheartened, Narsen had no choice but to lead the War Bear company out of the Dodor Kingdom, and his title was gradually forgotten.

Earl Chepman couldn’t care less about the Tartus family’s threats. What he found regrettable was that this Ferocious warrior, who was comparable to a Knight, had been recruited by Victor.

“My lord, I originally thought the little lord’s strength was negligible. I never expected him to have a Ferocious warrior a Knight’s equal as his Guard Captain. Therefore, to ensure that the plan can be successfully implemented, I intend to take action personally and eliminate that Narsen!” DeWitt stated faintly, as if eliminating a Ferocious warrior was as simple and trivial as looking at the lines on his own palm.

“Heh heh, DeWitt, I’ve seen that plan of yours, but I never intended to approve it!”

Chapter 48: Pride and Greed

“Earl Chepman has rejected the plan to control Victor’s domain!” DeWitt couldn’t believe his ears. To let a morsel right at his lips get away—was this still Earl Chepman?

“In truth, no matter what we do in that domain, we can never truly control it. The power that truly decides the ownership of that land lies outside of it!” Earl Chepman explained, seeing DeWitt’s confused gaze.

“Grand Duke Williams!?” As a Great Knight who had stepped into the extraordinary realm, DeWitt was quick to understand.

“Correct! I believe that if I but nod my head, Grand Duke Williams will present that domain to us on a silver platter. As for the little Baron, he will naturally be attacked by bandits again, only this time, no Knights from the York family will come to his rescue.”

“Before that happens, any petty tricks we play will be meaningless. They will only expose our intentions!”

Hearing Chepman’s explanation, DeWitt had an epiphany. That was how it was—power determined rights. It was laughable that he, a dignified Silver-rank Great Knight, had been thinking of using such devious schemes to plot against a minor lord who could barely protect himself.

“My lord, your insight is like a torch. I am far from your equal,” DeWitt said in shame.

“Then tell me, can we ask Grand Duke Williams for that domain?” Chepman decided to test DeWitt’s political acumen.

“Of course not!” DeWitt said decisively. As a Great Knight, once he had broken free from such petty, grubby thoughts, he immediately gained a perspective far beyond that of an ordinary person.

“Grand Duke Williams has the upper hand in the House of Nobles and the Senate, and he has the support of the Church. On the surface, it all looks splendid and his influence seems immense, but his shortcomings are also very obvious—his military strength is insufficient!”

“If Princess Royal Roland hadn’t pushed the York family too hard, I’m afraid he wouldn’t even have the power to contend with the Prince’s Faction. Therefore, he must rally the other military nobles of the kingdom to his side, and our Chepman family will naturally be important to him.”

“Unfortunately, his rival is simply too powerful! Two Gold Knights, half of the kingdom’s military might! Heh, for us to bet on him? How could that be possible!”

“My lord, I’ve always had a question. Since we don’t favor Grand Duke Williams, why don’t we support Prince Edward?” DeWitt asked Chepman.

Political gambles, while risky, offered great returns. Since they didn’t favor the Grand Duke’s Faction, why not support the Prince’s Faction instead of remaining neutral? DeWitt knew his lord was never an indecisive man.

“Because I can’t be sure!” Chepman said gravely.

“In fact, the Prince’s Faction is the weakest of the three. Apart from their legitimate claim and vast wealth, the only thing they can rely on is the support of Princess Royal Roland!”

“Unfortunately, Princess Royal Roland’s support doesn’t represent the support of the kingdom’s three great knightly orders. In fact, Marquess Golan, the Minister of War, and the three knightly orders only want to put Princess Royal Roland on the throne!”

“Moreover, Grand Duke Williams is not without a way to turn the tables. It’s rumored that he is plotting something with the one on the Mountain of Light. However, there’s too little intelligence right now to know the specifics.”

“The Church?! What is the Grand Duke doing? Doesn’t he know this will offend all the lords of the kingdom?” DeWitt exclaimed in shock and anger.

The current Pope of the Church is ambitious, seeking to strengthen the Church’s influence throughout the human world. This goes against the interests of all human lords.

“The Church is, after all, the most powerful force in the human world. Their ambitions are surely not limited to just the Kingdom of Gambia. The interests involved are too deeply entangled, so we can only remain neutral for now. That is the safest course of action.”

Chepman rubbed his temples. The treacherous and unpredictable political situation in the kingdom gave him a massive headache. He couldn’t help but sigh, “If only Princess Royal Roland were willing to take the throne, I would support her with all my might!”

Princess Royal Roland became a Gold Knight at twenty-three and defeated the veteran Gold Knight Adrian at twenty-five. The knightly talent and military genius she displayed have won the admiration of all the kingdom’s military nobles and high-ranking Knights. It is no exaggeration to call her a child of destiny.

“You speak the truth, my lord, but… Princess Royal Roland’s personality… it’s truly…” DeWitt stammered.

“Sigh…” The two Great Knights stared at each other, then sighed and shook their heads in unison.

“Actually, the one I admire most is Lady Rose. With a flip of her hand, she can summon clouds; with another, she brings rain. She was clearly on the losing side, yet not only did her power remain intact, she also gained control over the entire Centaur Hills, a domain several times larger than her original duchy. She quietly befriended His Majesty, the Emperor, who has stepped into the legendary realm. Now, no matter which royal highness ascends the throne, her position is unshakable. Such wisdom and methods are truly admirable!” Chepman said with emotion, slapping the table.

“Isn’t the York family a core member of the Grand Duke’s Faction? If the Prince’s Faction wins, how can she remain unshakable?” DeWitt asked, confused.

“The York family was forced under the Grand Duke’s banner by Princess Royal Roland. In fact, it was the York family’s allegiance that gave the Grand Duke the ambition to covet the throne. But if the York family can be forced to join the Grand Duke, can they not be forced to join the Emperor? Remember, when the Emperor reclaimed the three eastern provinces, the York family did not hold him back,” Chepman sneered.

“I see. They are the family with the wild boar sigil, after all. You can’t push them, or they’ll turn fierce,” DeWitt murmured.

“In that case, I will abandon the plan. But what if that incompetent little lord comes looking for trouble? After all, we are mining there under the guise of freemen, and he is currently clearing out the freemen in his domain with an iron fist,” DeWitt asked Chepman for instructions.

“‘Incompetent’? Heh, DeWitt, you’ve been blinded by pride. Haven’t you realized that Lord Baron Victor and I have already reached a tacit understanding?” Chepman chuckled and shook his head.

“When the old Earl was alive, he often said, ‘There are no foolish lords!’ I deeply agree with this sentiment. Even if a lord is a true idiot, his subordinates will make him a competent one!”

“A lord, whose Guard Captain is as strong as a Knight, does nothing when one of his men has his thigh pierced by an arrow from a group of freemen. What does that mean? It means he already knows the people at that camp are ours. That’s why his men have not approached that eastern part of the domain since. This is his way of telling me that he acknowledges our de facto control over that area!”

“And that work point system you all deemed useless? In my eyes, it is absolutely brilliant!”

Chepman paused, then asked the bewildered DeWitt, “DeWitt, tell me, what is the foundation of our rule over our domain?”

“Vassals!” DeWitt said after a moment of thought.

Knights and castles are the core of a lord’s rule, but vassals are the foundation.

“Correct! Vassals! To ensure a vassal’s loyalty to their lord, we need to test a subject’s family for three whole generations. But Baron Victor doesn’t have that luxury, because he was abandoned by his family. He has no foundation. That’s why he came up with the work point system.”

“One thousand work points in exchange for one mu of land. This is an offer his subjects cannot refuse. To earn work points, they will work desperately for Baron Victor. And to ensure the system is ultimately honored, the subjects will desperately defend the Baron’s rule. That is loyalty—a loyalty forged by interest!”

“Now look again. What did the dirt-poor Baron Victor have to give up in this process?” Chepman asked, his eyes burning.

“He gave up nothing!”

DeWitt realized with a shock that Victor had indeed given up nothing to win the support of his subjects. As for the land distributed to them, vassals would have been granted land anyway.

“No! He paid with the future! Remarkable! Truly remarkable! To trade a vague promise of the future for the wholehearted support of his subjects! What a genius idea!” Chepman couldn’t help but stand up and pace back and forth a couple of times.

“My lord, can we do the same?” DeWitt asked, somewhat excitedly.

“Impossible. We already have vassals, and vassals are exclusive!” Chepman shook his head.

What a joke. If subjects were allowed to exchange work points for the status of a vassal, what would the vassals who had passed a three-generation test think? That’s just how human society is—everyone always wants to keep others beneath them.

“It’s a pity. Baron Victor is still too young and inexperienced. Tying work points to Copper Sols is, in my opinion, a fatal flaw! It will bankrupt him. He completely underestimates his subjects’ passion for work points!”

The thought of Victor having to pay out a large sum of money made Chepman wince, even though it wasn’t his money. It was just his nature. He just didn’t know that Victor had already solved this problem.

“However, the Purple Cane wine he invented might just help him weather this crisis,” Chepman added, smacking his lips.

DeWitt had used a spy planted in Hill Camp to acquire some Purple Cane wine. After tasting it, Chepman had greatly praised its unique, sweet flavor.

“Indeed. Who would have thought that Purple Cane, worthless in the eyes of others, could create so much value in Baron Victor’s hands!” DeWitt sighed. Unconsciously, he had stopped referring to Victor as the ‘little lord’.

“The Wimbledon family… truly worthy of being merchant nobles. They have a natural, keen sense for business. It’s truly enviable!”

Victor was like this, and so was the former Minister of Finance, the old Marquess Wimbledon. The wealth he had amassed in his lifetime exceeded what the Chepman family had accumulated over several generations.

An ordinary noble would pay at most a hundred thousand Gold Sols to purchase a domain and a title in the Centaur Hills, yet Sophia spent a full five hundred thousand. Although Chepman knew this was actually Sophia’s political donation, he was still green with envy.

That old lecher, why didn’t he marry my daughter instead!? Chepman thought resentfully.

“So, the best plan for now is to maintain the status quo. We’ll continue to mine the Mithril there as before, but don’t let our people venture into other parts of Victor’s domain. This is the tacit understanding between lords.”

On one hand, any small moves against that domain could alert the York family and expose the secret of the Mithril mine. On the other hand, if he were to join the Grand Duke’s camp to obtain that domain, not only would he have to bear unpredictable political risks, but he would also never be able to monopolize the Mithril vein. Chepman knew very well that maintaining the status quo was the only way to maximize his gains. For this reason, he would not hold Victor back; he would even help Victor control the domain.

“Yes, My lord!”

“Also, have those Purple Canes cut down and brought over. We’ll use them to make wine as well. And have our people keep a close eye on Baron Victor to see what other money-making ideas he comes up with!” Chepman ordered.

Chepman had said DeWitt was blinded by pride, but he himself was blinded by greed. He never imagined that his coveting of the Purple Cane would one day bring disaster to his own domain. For in the eyes of Victor and his vassals, the Purple Cane was far more valuable than Mithril.

Mine my Mithril, and I might let it slide. But touch my Purple Cane, and you’re courting death!

“It’s a shame. Baron Victor’s power is still too weak. Caught between the Grand Duke’s Faction and the Prince’s Faction, he could be crushed to dust at any moment!” DeWitt shook his head with some regret. Although Baron Victor’s talent amazed him, in the face of absolute power, he still lacked the ability to protect himself.

DeWitt’s words, however, stirred something in Earl Chepman. He had already missed out on the big spender, the old Marquess Wimbledon; was he going to miss out on the young Baron Wimbledon as well? He had a gut feeling that Victor would become an even more successful merchant noble than the old Marquess.

“DeWitt, I want you to keep a secret eye on Baron Victor. If the day comes when he’s truly at a dead end, we will offer him shelter. As long as he is willing to join the Chepman family, I will marry Gillian to him!” Earl Chepman ordered DeWitt solemnly.

The image of an arrogant and domineering young woman instantly appeared in DeWitt’s mind, making him shiver involuntarily.

Chapter 49: A Heart-to-Heart

“Hah!” Victor exhaled sharply, smashing a heavy fist into a large sandbag. The powerful impact sent the 300-pound bag flying backward, only to be pulled back by its iron chains.

Victor let out a long breath, unable to hide the joy in his eyes. The force of that punch had reached 200 KG, comparable to a heavyweight professional boxer on Earth.

Physique 8, Spirit 14, Perception 21, Life 18.

These were Victor’s current elemental attribute stats. Compared to his initial data, his Physique had increased by a full point, and his other attributes had also grown to some extent, though none had reached a full standard unit.

This growth was due to his practice of the Body-refining technique recorded in the X-3.

The people of this world were generally quite strong. According to the X-3’s analysis, the Physique of most able-bodied farmers reached 8 points, equivalent to the physical fitness of a professional athlete on Earth. The Physique of elite soldiers was typically around 9 points, reaching a maximum of 10, making them much stronger than the vast majority of people on Earth.

Yet, this 1-2 point increase required these elite soldiers to undergo years of harsh training, whereas Victor had achieved it in just over fifty days.

In terms of training efficiency, the Body-refining technique far surpassed ordinary exercise methods. However, Victor wasn’t yet sure if it could help him break through the limits of the human body.

Based on the data Victor had collected so far, he had not found any ordinary human with a single attribute exceeding 10 points. All those who surpassed 10 points were either Knights or humans in a Savage state. Therefore, Victor believed that 10 points in a single attribute was the limit for an ordinary human.

Victor believed that after practicing the Body-refining technique, the probability of breaking this limit was high. This was because the King had entered these techniques into the Will Side reserves of the Alchemy Tower, generating a new skill called “Mystic Form.”

Moreover, these Body-refining techniques indeed had incredible effects. For instance, the Ox-Subduing Stance, which Victor was currently focusing on, could, according to the X-3’s records, allow one to single-handedly push over a 500 KG bull at an advanced level. This was already beyond the limits of an ordinary human.

The X-3 recorded as many as fifteen types of Stance practice, but after practicing them, Victor found that three had the best effects: the Ox-Subduing Stance, the Spirit Monkey Stance, and the Golden Toad Stance.

The Ox-Subduing Stance gave the greatest boost to Physique, the Spirit Monkey Stance had a noticeable effect on Perception, and the Golden Toad Stance focused on cultivating the circulation of qi and blood, which was somewhat helpful for increasing the Life attribute.

Of these, the Ox-Subduing Stance was the most effective. The other two stances were far less so, and the increases in his Life and Perception attributes were minimal. Victor thought this might be because his Physique was his weakest attribute and had not yet reached the mortal limit, whereas his Perception and Life attributes had already surpassed 10 points—especially his Perception, which had reached a staggering 21.

However, the attribute Victor most wanted to improve right now was Physique. Not only did it increase his strength, but it also enhanced the density of his bones and muscles. Most importantly, it improved his stamina, which extended the duration of his Overlimit, Super Sense, Seamless, and Apocalypse abilities. His Apocalypse state could now last for thirty seconds, a full half longer than the initial twenty seconds.

What puzzled Victor the most was the Spirit attribute. He discovered that no matter which stance he practiced, his Spirit would increase during the visualization process. But after he finished training, the attribute would return to its original 14 points, without any growth whatsoever.

Regardless, practicing Mystic Form gave Victor a way to increase his power, and it could even enhance the strength of the Alchemical humans. That was the crucial part.

“Narsen, what do you think of my punch?” Victor asked the nearby Narsen gleefully. Feeling accomplished in his training, he was eager for a “professional’s” approval.

Narsen stepped forward and, with a light touch of his hand, steadied the swinging sandbag. He said to Victor, “My lord, I don’t think practicing this ‘sandbag punching’ is of any use. If you want to increase your strength, I think you’d be better off practicing with long and short weapons. If we lose our weapons, we can’t even defeat a Gnoll with our bare hands.”

Victor couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He just wanted Narsen to see his increase in strength, but to a Ferocious warrior whose Physique had reached 20 points, what was the difference between a Physique of 7 and 8?

In truth, Victor had already realized that attribute scores only represented a creature’s elemental concentration, not its true combat effectiveness. For example, there was a herbivorous animal on the continent called the Giant-Horned Rhinoceros. They weighed over eight tons, stood more than four meters tall, and their hide was thick and tough, a full 10 centimeters thick. Not even the most ferocious Nightblade Panther could inflict a fatal wound on such a behemoth. However, a human soldier armed with a 5-meter-long spear was perfectly capable of killing one.

One could only imagine the terrifying damage a soldier, with the physical fitness of a wrestler, could inflict when thrusting with a sharp spear.

This was also why Gnolls, despite having Physique and Perception superior to ordinary humans, were utterly helpless against an organized encirclement by a human army.

“Have the fallen soldiers all been buried?” Victor asked Narsen. In the recent cleanup operation, five of Victor’s soldiers had been killed and eleven were wounded.

“They’ve all been buried, and the wounded have been properly cared for. As per your orders, my lord, the family of each fallen soldier was to receive a pension of fifty Gold Sols, but they all wish to receive work points as compensation instead.”

It was understandable that the soldiers’ families wanted work points instead of Gold Sols. After all, Gold Sols were not very useful to the subjects within this territory.

“Alright. Compensate each fallen soldier with 64,800 work points, each wounded soldier with 5,000 work points, and each severely wounded and disabled soldier with 10,000 work points,” Victor said with a nod.

“My lord! That’s too much!” Narsen exclaimed in shock. Even if he wasn’t well-versed in internal affairs, he could see that there was a problem with Victor’s work point system.

Taking this pension as an example, 64,800 work points could be exchanged for a 64-mu fiefdom. Furthermore, these work points could continue to be used within the territory, and could even be exchanged for Copper Sols. By that calculation, it was equivalent to compensating each fallen soldier with a 64-mu fiefdom and fifty Gold Sols. A lord’s land resources were extremely precious. If all the land was enfeoffed, it meant no new Knights would be willing to join the family. Even the family’s own bloodline Knights would join other great families if there wasn’t enough land to support them.

“It’s fine. We have plenty of land in our territory. These soldiers gave their precious lives for the territory; we should give their families sufficient compensation. This is the only way to inspire other soldiers to fight bravely,” Victor said with a smile.

Victor was also frustrated. He had been destitute when he first introduced the work point system to win people over. But he had underestimated the value of land and the value of work points, leading to the current awkward situation. This was all because he had no experience in governing a territory and a family. But he couldn’t possibly adjust the work point system now, or his authority would be weakened. After all, the work point system was the foundation of his subjects’ support.

Fortunately, he no longer planned to include more subjects in the work point system. He was also preparing to gradually integrate the Alchemical militia into the current guard contingent. This would not only greatly enhance the combat effectiveness of the territory’s army but also save a large amount on military expenses, as these Alchemical militia required no salary or pension.

But before that, he had to earn enough Gold Sols!

“Speaking of which, this is the first time we’ve had guards killed in action. What do the villagers in the camp think about it?” Seeing Narsen about to try and persuade him again, Victor quickly interjected.

Although Narsen was a brave and skilled warrior, he truly didn’t understand internal affairs. He couldn’t yet grasp that Victor’s only option for now was to make the best of a bad situation.

“Everyone is calm. These people are used to life and death. Besides, our casualties were few, and everyone is very satisfied with the results of the cleanup,” Narsen said to Victor with a smile.

During the cleanup operation, three medium-sized refugee camps had been flattened, and over a hundred refugees had been eliminated. Most of them were die-hard followers of the refugee leaders, who Narsen had also dealt with. Victor’s subjects were overjoyed. The atmosphere in the camp was now fervent, even more lively than after they had slain the Ogre.

“How many freemen have sought refuge with us now?” Victor asked with a smile. Although many freemen had died, it was still a gratifying victory, and Victor himself had come to understand his position and responsibilities.

“We took in over a hundred freemen from those three camps alone. Now, large numbers of freemen are hoping to join us every day. This is putting a lot of pressure on our camp. I was just about to ask for your instructions on how to handle this,” Narsen said to Victor seriously.

“Find an open space below the camp and build a temporary settlement. House these people there for now. Also, I don’t plan to grant them the status of subjects directly. They were too slow to come to their senses, after all. They must be treated differently.”

“Of course, we can’t let them sit idle. Assign them some labor tasks. Have them help us reclaim wasteland and build roads and villages. Tell them that every month, I will select the twenty best-performing individuals among them to become subjects,” Victor ordered faintly, suppressing his inner joy. He now understood that mercy and equality were not simply applicable to this world.

However, with the cover provided by these freemen, Victor could finally start producing Alchemical humans without restraint. Those powerful Alchemical humans would soon become leaders among these freemen, who preyed on the weak and feared the strong. By then, the manpower under his control would multiply.

At this thought, a look of delight appeared on Victor’s face, but Narsen raised another question.

“Then how do we solve the security problem?”

Most of these freemen were young, able-bodied men, brutish and fierce by nature. With so many of them gathered together, fights and brawls were bound to be frequent. Narsen’s guards had their own patrol duties and couldn’t possibly watch them every day.

“You’re right to bring that up. We need a magistrate now!” Victor said with a frown.

Previously, Victor’s subjects had been under the control of the village group leaders, and there had been no trouble. But with so many freemen, a few group leaders were no longer enough to manage them.

So who should be the magistrate?

The magistrate in a territory held great power, with the authority to decide matters of life and death. They were the executors of the lord’s will and the maintainers of order. They had to be loyal, decisive, fair, and wise. Most importantly, they had to be powerful.

Victor thought quietly for a moment but still couldn’t find a suitable candidate. But when he saw Narsen looking at him expectantly, an image flashed in his mind.

“What do you think of Linda?” Victor asked Narsen.

Linda had made a deep impression on Victor when she had decisively killed the scoundrel Logen. Now, Linda was in charge of the camp’s kitchen and small canteen, and she had a keen interest in cooking.

“Linda? She won’t do! Her… her strength is too poor!” Narsen waved his hands hastily. As Linda’s partner, he knew full well that her strength was insufficient to intimidate those unruly freemen.

“Linda despises evil. Although her strength isn’t great, she is your partner. Who among the freemen would be foolish enough to disregard the fame of the Bear of the Northlands now?” Victor teased Narsen.

Three bloody massacres had spread the name of Narsen, the Bear of the Northlands, throughout the entire territory. The freemen truly turned pale at the mention of his name, while Victor’s subjects were greatly encouraged. Everyone now knew that the lord’s Guard Captain was a powerful warrior comparable to a Knight.

“My lord, regarding my title, I have something I need to confess to you,” Narsen said to Victor with a wry smile.

Narsen then explained in detail the origin of his title and his feud with the great noble Tartus family of the Sasan Empire.

After hearing the story, Victor was surprised, amused, and a little touched.

He was surprised that Narsen, as a Ferocious warrior, had managed to kill a Bronze Knight in a head-on confrontation. Such strength was truly astounding.

He was amused that the renowned War Bear Mercenary Company had fallen on such hard times, nearly to the point of disbanding.

And what touched him was that Narsen, in order to intimidate the freemen, was willing to reveal the title he had tried so hard to hide. This showed that the War Bear Mercenaries truly saw him as a liege worthy of their loyalty and this place as their home.

“Narsen, there are two questions I wonder if you’ve considered. The first is that you were set up. The person who set you up was the same one who spread your fame. If I’m not mistaken, this person was likely your competitor. On the surface, he was building your reputation, but in reality, he was holding you over a fire, and you were completely unaware.”

“Damn it, it was that bastard Iron Wolf! No wonder the Iron Wolf Mercenary Company was the one absorbed by the Quinn family in the end, not us. I was wondering why he was so kind as to spread my name. I thought he’d finally submitted to us. I never thought that bastard would play such a dirty trick on me! If I ever see that despicable bastard again, I’ll tear him apart alive!” Narsen said, grinding his teeth. Victor’s words had finally made him understand.

“My lord, you are truly brilliant!”

Facing Narsen’s adoring gaze, Victor gave a faint smile.

A little trick like praising someone to death could fool me? Hmph! I’ve seen it in TV shows a million times! Victor thought with some smugness.

“The second question is, you offended a great Sasan noble and had to go into hiding, leaving the Dodor Kingdom. I can understand that. But after you arrived in Gambis, why did you continue to hide your title?”

“Because the title brought us a lot of trouble, so we all felt we should hide it. My lord, I didn’t mean to deceive you. If it weren’t for those freemen looking down on us for not having a Knight, I had no intention of publicizing this title again,” Narsen said with shame.

“What kind of trouble is that? Can a great noble from the Sasan Empire fly all the way to the Kingdom of Gambia to bite someone? Hmph! A mere Tartus family doesn’t have that much clout here! Even a minor lord like me wouldn’t pay them any mind! If you had used the title of the Bear of the Northlands back then, plenty of families would have been willing to recruit you! What do you think, feeling a little regretful now?” Victor teased the dumbfounded Narsen with a grin.

“No! In fact, I should thank that bastard Iron Wolf. Otherwise, we never would have joined you, my lord. Next time I see him, I’ll just break both his legs!” Narsen shook his head repeatedly, speaking with sincerity.

“It is my honor!”

Victor gave Narsen a nobleman’s bow, and the two exchanged a smile.

“My lord, are you really not worried about the Tartus family causing trouble for us?” Narsen was still a little worried. The Tartus family was a powerful clan in the Sasan Empire, and their patriarch was a Gold Knight.

“No need to worry! In a few years, they won’t dare to cause us trouble! In ten years, they will only be able to grovel at our feet!” Victor declared with heroic spirit.

For Victor now, the Alchemy Tower was the real trouble. According to the King’s speculation, the Soul Fire of the Alchemy Tower came from a single soul. Victor simply couldn’t imagine what kind of being a creature with a Spirit attribute of over five thousand would be. And yet, such an extraordinary being had its soul imprisoned by the Néier Empire!

Give Victor ten years, and as the inheritor of the Néier Empire’s legacy, he was confident he could crush even the entire Prince’s Faction in one go! In comparison, what was the Tartus family, thousands of miles away?

“My lord, I believe it with all my heart!” Although it seemed incredible, Narsen’s intuition told him that everything Victor said would become reality.

“Go and have a word with Linda. In a couple of days, I will appoint her as the territory’s magistrate. Then, have Lilia come see me. I need to discuss the construction of the temporary camp with her.”

Just as Victor was giving Narsen his instructions, a caw rang out. “Caw!” A large crow flew over and landed on Victor’s shoulder.

It was Blackfeather! A wave of ecstasy washed over Victor. Nicole and the others were back!

Chapter 50: The Return

In the western part of Victor’s domain, a caravan of over thirty people was making its way toward Hill Camp. It was Edwen and his party, returning from their expedition into the Great Marsh.

Nicole rode a warhorse, her face glowing with life. The thought of seeing her beloved soon filled her with anticipation and joy. If not for everyone’s exhaustion, she would have spurred her horse on to reach Hill Camp sooner.

The expedition, which had lasted more than twenty days, had left everyone physically and mentally drained. They had been besieged and pursued by a Lizardmen tribe just as they were about to leave, which had left them in a sorry state.

Fortunately, Victor had built a supply camp at the entrance to the Great Marsh, allowing everyone to rest and recuperate. Even so, Edwen and Bruce had both taken to the carriage Victor had left behind, unwilling to travel any further on horseback.

My Victor is so thoughtful! At this thought, a smile touched Nicole’s lips. Women in love always believe their sweethearts are the best, and a female Knight was no exception.

Blissful and proud, Nicole looked particularly enchanting at that moment, radiating a charm that drew frequent gazes from the retainer knights beside her.

It was hardly surprising. These apprentice knights were all young men around the age of twenty, an age ripe for romance. Moreover, Nicole was already beautiful and graceful, and after becoming a Knight, her skin had turned as white as snow and she glowed with radiance. The valiant image of her felling over ten Lizardmen warriors during their last encounter was an unforgettable sight for these young men.

Previously, as a female apprentice knight from a humble background, Nicole’s partner would have been designated by the family, and she would have been beyond the reach of these apprentice knights. But now, Nicole had become a noble Knight. Even a powerful family like the Yorks could not force a female Knight to serve someone she disliked. she was completely free to choose her own partner.

Therefore, these young apprentice knights had been lavishing attention on Nicole throughout the journey, hoping to win her heart.

As for Baron Victor, he already had a wife. A noble female Knight could hardly become his personal handmaiden, could she?

They believed that, with time, Nicole would come to her senses and realize she had no future with Victor. However, these apprentice knights didn’t know that from the moment Victor had faced the Ogre, no one could ever replace him in Nicole’s heart.

If becoming a Knight wasn’t enough to be with Victor, then she would become a Silver Knight. If that still wasn’t enough, then she would become a Gold Knight! This was Nicole’s resolve. She was determined to fight for the future she desired through her own efforts.

As the caravan rounded a hill, Nicole spotted a group of people on horseback approaching them in the distance, with Blackfeather circling above them.

“It’s Victor!”

Overjoyed, Nicole flicked her whip, and the warhorse beneath her shot forward like an arrow released from a bow, racing towards Victor’s party.

Victor’s exceptional eyesight had long since made out the female Knight he had been yearning for day and night on the approaching warhorse. He, too, spurred his horse to meet her.

Victor’s horsemanship was average, but X-3 had elevated his sense of balance to an incredible degree. He seemed to merge with the warhorse beneath him, and at that moment, his speed was like a bolt of lightning.

Soon, the pair of lovers were reunited. Victor had just leaped from his horse when Nicole, like a nimble swallow, flew into his embrace.

Victor held Nicole quietly, taking in the faint fragrance from her hair, his heart full and content.

Nicole was Victor’s first true love in every sense of the word. They shared a commonality: both appeared noble but were, in fact, of humble standing. One had awakened a knight’s bloodline but was the daughter of a York family handmaiden; the other, though a landed baron, was in reality nothing more than Marchioness Sophia’s tool and boy toy. It was precisely because of this that their determination and efforts to defy fate were one and the same. This was the true reason they were drawn to each other.

“Nicole, you smell so good! I thought you’d be all stinky after crawling out of the Great Marsh,” Victor teased, breathing in deeply by the nape of Nicole’s long, slender, snow-white neck.

The corners of Nicole’s mouth curled up. she had made a point to wash up at the supply camp; otherwise, she would have been covered in blood and mud, just as Victor had said.

“What? You wouldn’t have hugged me if I was stinky, would you?” Nicole’s face flushed slightly as she pulled away from Victor’s embrace, feigning annoyance. The warmth of her beloved’s breath on her ear was ticklish and left her heart in a flutter.

Since becoming a Knight, Nicole had grown much more confident. Her heart truly belonged to Victor, and upon their reunion after a short separation, she had been unable to contain her emotions and had rushed into his arms. But now, the intimacy made her feel shy again.

“I’d hug you even if you were stinky, because you’re Nicole,” Victor said with a gentle smile.

Seeing the girl’s shy delight, Victor sighed inaudibly with relief. Thank you, screenwriter. Thank you, director. Thank you, CCTV. Turns out I’m not half bad at this flirting thing…

“Come on! Take me to see Master Edwen and Knight Bruce,” Victor said, taking Nicole’s slender hand.

“Mmm.”

When Victor arrived at Edwen’s caravan, holding Nicole’s hand, everyone in the party bowed to him—except for the few apprentice knights. Victor could clearly sense the hostility from these young retainers, which he found baffling. Nicole, meanwhile, kept her head down, her face crimson. The memory of how she had abandoned the entire party and rushed into Victor’s arms was now rather embarrassing, but she didn’t pull her hand from his grasp. Instead, she held on even tighter.

Victor glanced over the caravan and immediately noticed some unusual things. Nearly every one of the York family’s elite cavalrymen was wounded, and there were four fewer men than when they had set out. Clearly, the expedition had not been smooth sailing.

Victor also noticed that the caravan was carrying some extra items. The most striking was a cage on one of the wagons, and inside it was a half-man, half-lizard monster. The creature was about 2.1 meters long and covered in dark green scales that gleamed with a metallic luster. Its head resembled that of a giant lizard, but its snout was flatter. Its eyes were amber with dark green vertical pupils, giving it a cold, ruthless, yet cunningly intelligent look.

The monster’s body was thick and powerful, but its claws, feet, and long, thick tail had been hacked off, leaving it to curl up inside the cage. However, Victor noted that the creature’s wounds had already healed, and there was even some faintly protruding tissue, evidence that its severed limbs were regenerating. Perhaps it wouldn’t be long before it regained its complete limbs and tail.

On another horse, the corpse of an animal was tied to its back. This strange animal was 2.8 meters long, with its tail accounting for 1.2 meters of that length. It looked like a large feline, but its tail was identical to a rat’s. Its body and head were flat, and its enormous mouth was filled with razor-sharp teeth. Its sharp claws were a good eight centimeters long, making it clear at a glance that this was a ferocious beast.

Bruce’s four retainer knights stood in a tight circle around this horse, as if protecting it—or, more accurately, protecting the creature’s corpse.

Victor withdrew his gaze and followed Nicole to the carriage where Edwen was riding. Before he could even knock, Knight Bruce opened the door.

“Lord Victor, please come in,” Bruce said with a smile, his appearance as impeccable as ever.

“Good day, Master Edwen. Good day, Knight Bruce,” Victor said with a smile, entering the carriage and offering a nobleman’s bow to Edwen and Bruce.

Bruce’s party had clearly been through an intense battle, and Victor was genuinely glad to see the old scholar sitting in the carriage, completely unscathed.

“Little Victor, I didn’t expect you to come so quickly. Did you miss us? Or did you miss a certain someone among us?” Edwen teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Though the old scholar looked somewhat haggard, he was in high spirits, almost exuberant. It seemed their trip to the Great Marsh had been quite fruitful.

“Master, I’m very glad to see you safe and sound,” Victor said sincerely, ignoring Edwen’s jest.

“Indeed. If it weren’t for Blackfeather this time, I’m afraid this old life of mine would have been lost in the Lizard Marsh,” Edwen said with lingering fear in his voice.

“Master, Bruce, I see many soldiers are injured. Why don’t we all rest here for a moment? My caravan will be here soon with six more carriages, so the wounded can ride in comfort,” Victor suggested.

“That’s wonderful! Thank you, Victor,” Bruce said gratefully, nodding his head.

In the running battle with the Lizardmen tribe, Bruce’s cavalry squad had not only lost four men, but the rest of the elite soldiers were all wounded. These men had followed Bruce for years; they were his old pals. If he hadn’t been worried about the Lizardmen warriors giving chase, he would have preferred to recuperate at the supply camp and wait for Victor’s support.

Soon, the two caravans merged. Bruce’s cavalry squad all boarded the carriages. After everything was arranged, the caravan set off once more, and Victor brought his “coffee” for Edwen to try.

The “coffee” of this world was actually made from the kernels of a fruit called the Dark Astringent Fruit, which the Alchemical auxiliary soldier Busuo had collected. The Dark Astringent Fruit was somewhat poisonous, but after its kernels were steamed and dried, the poison was removed, leaving behind a rich aroma. In the Néier Empire, the powder of the Dark Astringent Fruit kernel could be made into a potion that temporarily boosted one’s Spirit attribute.

Of course, Victor wanted to replicate this potion, but it required too many ingredients, some of which could only be found within the Sasan Empire. However, after tasting a drink made from the kernels, Victor was surprised to find its effect was remarkably similar to coffee from Earth. Although the taste was different, it lacked the toxicity of caffeine. Mixing it with Purple Cane juice improved the taste even more, making it a perfect consumer product for the upper echelons of society.

“Master, I discovered a unique beverage in my domain. It tastes excellent and can also invigorate the spirit. Please have a taste. We can chat while we drink.”

Victor, beaming, took out four silver cups, placed the kernel powder inside, and as boiling water was poured into the cups, a captivating aroma instantly filled the carriage.

The invigorating fragrance made Edwen’s eyes light up. He was about to pick up a cup when Victor stopped him.

“Not so fast, Master. It’s missing one thing.”

Victor then added Purple Cane juice to each cup and said with a smile, “Now you may have a taste.”

Edwen took a sip, closed his eyes to savor it for a moment, and then praised loudly, “Very fragrant and sweet, a rich sweetness. A truly excellent beverage!”

“It is indeed very good!” Bruce also praised it after tasting it.

As for Nicole, she was already drinking with a beaming smile, and not just because of the coffee’s sweet taste. Throughout their journey, every time Victor invented a new delicacy, it brought her immense joy.

Victor secretly breathed a sigh of relief. The old scholar’s assessment was very important to him. He had now lost his family’s support, which meant he had no channels to promote the local specialties of his domain to the aristocracy. As a highly respected scholar, Master Edwen could help him open that door.

“What is this beverage made of?” Edwen asked eagerly. He could already feel the coffee’s refreshing effect, which was of immense value to a scholar who spent long years in research.

“It’s a beverage made from the kernel of a wild fruit. It can relieve fatigue and boost one’s spirit. I call this wild fruit the ‘coffee fruit,’ and this drink, ‘coffee.’”

“Coffee? Mmm, I must have a look at this wild fruit once we get back to camp.”

Edwen nodded. He didn’t dwell on why Victor had given the wild fruit such a strange name. In fact, many unique plants in the Centaur Hills had yet to be fully cataloged, let alone named.

“Of course,” Victor agreed with a smile. He did indeed need to have an in-depth discussion with Edwen about the coffee.

“What exactly did you encounter in the Great Marsh? I noticed you lost four soldiers and gained two monsters, one dead and one alive,” Victor asked with a grave expression. The Great Marsh was a truly untamed land, and it bordered his domain. He desperately needed to understand the situation there.

“We’re in this sorry state all thanks to the two monsters outside!”

Chapter 51: Sights and Sounds of the Marsh

It turned out that after entering the Great Marsh, Edwen and his party had carefully avoided most of the dangers, collecting many plant and mineral specimens unique to the marsh. Everything had been going smoothly until their return journey, when they encountered a migrating Lizardman tribe. With Blackfeather’s help, they successfully hid in a safe location, smearing themselves with mud to avoid being detected by the Lizardmen’s keen sense of smell. However, a monster lurking underground ambushed them. It wounded a soldier, and though Bruce quickly killed it, the scent of blood attracted the attention of Lizardman scouts. A battle had become inevitable.

After killing a few scouting Lizardmen who came to investigate, Bruce led the team in a breakout. The Lizardman tribe, in turn, began to encircle and annihilate them. Fortunately, Blackfeather was always able to point out the right direction for their escape. After abandoning most of their supplies, they neared the exit of the Great Marsh.

But the Lizardmen clearly had no intention of letting them go. A squad of elite Lizardman warriors pursued them relentlessly, finally cutting them off at the marsh’s exit. This squad numbered more than fifty, led by six Savage Lizardmen, and was exceptionally powerful.

Bruce faced three Savage Lizardmen alone, while his three retainer knights took on another two. Nicole, in order to protect the old scholar from harm, killed one Savage Lizardman warrior herself before turning her counterattack on the regular Lizardman warriors.

Although these Lizardmen were the tribe’s elite warriors, they were no match for the well-equipped knights. Nicole cut down more than a dozen of them. As the apprentice knights also finished off their opponents, the Lizardman warriors finally broke. In the end, they lost more than half their number before fleeing back into the Great Marsh. Five of the six Savage Lizardman warriors were killed, and the last one was captured alive at Edwen’s request.

However, four soldiers died defending the old scholar. Fearing pursuit from the Lizardman tribe, Bruce and his party had no choice but to bury their comrades on the spot before retreating from the Great Marsh.

“Aren’t Lizardmen supposed to be timid and frail beastmen? Why were they so fierce?” Victor asked, his voice filled with shock and uncertainty.

Victor was deeply alarmed by what had happened to Bruce’s group. This was a knightly party consisting of two Knights, three apprentice knights, and twenty elite soldiers. Such a force could easily crush his current camp. (Bruce had four retainer knights, but one had been left behind to guard the supply camp outside the marsh).

“The ones we met were no ordinary Lizardmen. They are the most ferocious type, also known as Half-dragons,” Edwen said with a wry smile, taking a sip of coffee.

“Half-dragons surpass ordinary Lizardmen in intelligence, strength, size, and courage. They claim to have the bloodline of dragons! I truly never expected to find a Half-dragon tribe of over a thousand in the Great Marsh,” Edwen remarked with a touch of triumphant wonder.

Although they had been forced to abandon most of their specimens during the breakout, he was extremely pleased with the capture of a live Half-dragon.

Victor’s face, however, turned ashen. Half-dragons? A thousand of them? Right in my backyard?

“Rest assured! As strong as they are, Half-dragons are still a type of Lizardman. They will not leave the marsh,” Edwen said comfortingly, noticing Victor’s anxiety.

“That’s a relief.” Victor sighed. The Great Marsh was vast and boundless, and the Lizardmen were adapted to its environment. They likely had no interest in his territory.

“Master, what was that monster? I’ve never seen such a long, bizarre beast,” Victor asked Edwen curiously.

Even after being so hard-pressed and chased by the Half-dragon tribe, to the point where they couldn’t even retrieve their companions’ bodies, Edwen had never once considered abandoning the monster’s carcass. This alone spoke volumes of its value.

“Heh heh, that’s a precious Aberrant Rat,” Edwen said, his eyebrows raised in delight.

“An Aberrant Rat?!” Victor exclaimed in shock.

From Victor’s modern perspective, the creatures of this world had two directions of mutation. One was the Savage state, and the other was what people called Aberration, which resulted in a creature’s complete Deformation.

The Savage state didn’t change a creature’s appearance, but simply enhanced all its elemental attributes—Physique, Spirit, Perception, and Life.

Aberration, on the other hand, completely altered a creature’s physical form. One might even say an aberrant creature was transformed into an entirely different species.

The direction of Aberration was chaotic and disorderly; no one knew what an aberrant creature would ultimately look like. However, they almost always became enormous and ferocious. The monster, which was over two meters long, had transformed from a rat no bigger than the palm of a hand.

The Spire Scholars had also discovered an interesting phenomenon: no intelligent species ever underwent Deformation, not even the most foolish Fishmen. Therefore, all aberrant creatures were non-intelligent beings. Furthermore, the lower a creature’s base level, the greater the degree of its Aberration, sometimes by as much as ten thousand times. In the northern mountains of the Kingdom of Naville, an aberrant spider was once discovered that was said to be eight meters tall and fifteen meters long. It was eventually slain by a Gold Knight of the Kingdom of Naville.

Unlike the Savage state, which occurred randomly and could not be inherited, Aberration was infectious, though not hereditary! The flesh and blood of an aberrant creature could cause other creatures to mutate. This contagion, however, would weaken with each transmission, eventually resulting in a new, stable species.

Humans used this contagious property of Aberration to cultivate powerful creatures, such as the Swift Dragon mounts of the Kingdom of Gambia’s Swift Dragon Knights, which were bred from ground lizards.

For this reason, all the great human nobles coveted aberrant creatures. Unfortunately, Aberration was an even rarer phenomenon than the Savage state, which was why aberrant creatures were so exceptionally precious.

No wonder Bruce and his men, despite their losses, couldn’t completely hide their excitement. This single Aberrant Rat would earn them a handsome reward from their family.

“It was that Aberrant Rat that exposed our position, causing us to lose four soldiers and many of my samples. Yet, it ended up being the greatest prize of our trip to the marsh. Don’t you find that strange, Victor?” Edwen said, stroking his beard, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

“Master, lost specimens can be collected again, but the value of an aberrant creature is immeasurable. To capture an Aberrant Rat on your very first expedition into the Great Marsh—such luck would make any other great noble green with envy!” Victor said, his voice filled with admiration.

To say that an aberrant creature’s value was immeasurable was no mere flattery. The Swift Dragon Knights of the Kingdom of Gambia could travel six hundred kilometers a day and maintain peak combat effectiveness after three consecutive days of marching. In this world, that was a strategic military force, one that guaranteed the Gambis Royal Family’s control over the kingdom. And the foundation of the Swift Dragon Knights was the Swift Dragons, cultivated from aberrant flesh.

Of course, this kind of cultivation through Aberration took decades, and the results were random. After all, the mutation itself was inherently chaotic and disorderly.

But even so, for a great lord, an aberrant creature remained the strategic resource they most coveted.

“Speaking of which, we owe our successful escape this time to your pet, Blackfeather. It always managed to point out the weak points in the Lizardmen’s encirclement. In my opinion, Blackfeather has immense military value!” Bruce said sincerely. Without Blackfeather’s guidance, they probably would not have been able to bring the Aberrant Rat out of the Great Marsh.

Victor smiled slightly. The alchemical crow was indeed the best reconnaissance unit. It could fly to an altitude of several thousand meters and observe the entire battlefield; no movement of any significance could escape its eyes.

“Victor, I don’t think Blackfeather is a crow. It might be the Ash Falcon mentioned in the literature. It’s said that this crow-like bird is a companion to the Dark Elves, extremely intelligent, and capable of mimicking sounds. This bird hasn’t been seen since the Elves retreated into the Endless Forest. However, the northern part of the Centaur Hills borders the Endless Forest, so it’s reasonable for an Ash Falcon to appear here. Perhaps it was your High Elf bloodline that attracted Blackfeather and made it your pet,” Edwen said.

“An Ash Falcon? It seems my luck is quite good as well!” Victor replied with a smile.

The old scholar’s words stirred something within him. The history of the Néier Empire was completely unrecorded in the human world. Perhaps the Elves knew its secrets; after all, Elves lived for hundreds of years. If he had the chance in the future, he could try to seek them out.

“Master Edwin, did you find anything else of interest in the marsh?” Victor asked curiously.

“Although most of the specimens were lost, I still have a few interesting little trinkets,” Edwen said, his eyes lighting up.

“For example, this crystal.” Edwen took out a milky-white crystal about the size of a fingernail from his pocket.

“This is a new discovery. It has an interesting property: it can absorb impurities from water.”

As he spoke, Edwen took out a plate, poured some clear water into it, added a few drops of ink, and finally dropped the crystal into the plate.

Soon, the black water began to change. Black, flocculent matter started to coalesce around the crystal, and the water began to clear. In the time it took to drink a cup of tea, the water in the plate was clear again. The milky-white crystal, however, was now completely enveloped in the black flocculent substance, resting quietly at the bottom like a piece of obsidian.

“When we were drawing water in the marsh, we noticed that the water in the same pond was clear during the day but became turbid at night. Eventually, we found this strange crystal at the bottom of the pond. It absorbs impurities during the day and releases them back into the water at night. What do you think? Isn’t this little gadget amazing?” Edwen boasted to a dumbfounded Victor.

At that moment, a storm raged in Victor’s mind.

Was this a little gadget? This was a priceless treasure!

Victor’s territory was rich in Purple Cane, a resource he had always believed would be the core of his domain’s development.

Since the establishment of Hill Camp, Victor had been trying to produce sugar from Purple Cane. He juiced the canes, filtered the juice with gauze, then heated and boiled it to get syrup. When the syrup cooled, it formed raw sugar.

But the raw sugar produced from Purple Cane was purplish-black. Although it tasted good, its appearance was terrible. This was not the sugar Victor needed, because the human nobility would never accept such a crude product.

What Victor needed was white granulated sugar, and he was missing the crucial decolorization step.

It was this single step that had him completely stumped. He vaguely remembered a coworker back on Earth mentioning that sugar decolorization required either lime or activated carbon.

He didn’t know if lime existed in this world, but charcoal was easy enough to obtain. So, he had his subjects burn every type of wood in his territory into charcoal. After experiment after experiment, he was disappointed to find that none of it worked.

Fine! He finally, grimly, admitted his own ignorance. Common charcoal wasn’t activated carbon.

As piles of Purple Cane pulp were hauled away from the upper camp, all the subjects came to believe that their lord had a particular fondness for Purple Cane juice—a very, very strong fondness. They even thought he bathed in it. Why else would he use so much of it?

Victor had no intention of explaining. As it happened, he was encouraging his subjects to be innovative in their production. Lured by work points, some people started using the cane pulp to brew wine. The result was the highly acclaimed Purple Cane wine, a happy accident.

The success of the Purple Cane wine convinced Victor’s subjects that their lord was a wise ruler. Why else would he have forbidden them from clearing the Purple Cane groves so early on? Everyone knew the land in those groves was the most fertile!

Everyone believed the sweet and sour Purple Cane wine would make them rich, but Victor scoffed at the idea. Making wine from Purple Cane was far too easy to replicate.

Victor didn’t know how wine was normally made in this world. But he had watched his subjects put Purple Cane pulp and juice into jars, leave them outside for a day and a night, fill the jars with water, seal them, and then bury them underground. That was it. There was absolutely no technical skill involved!

Therefore, the real path to wealth lay in sugar—snow-white sugar!

With activated carbon being a lost cause, he considered lime. Victor sought out Busuo, the master-level Alchemical auxiliary soldier, hoping this all-purpose craftsman could help him produce it. But, just as the King had said, aside from his pre-loaded skills and knowledge, Busuo was as ignorant as a newborn.

Now that lime was also out of the question, Victor resorted to experimenting with all sorts of materials for adsorption: clay, bark, grass, Swiftbird feathers, ground lizard eggs, hair, Thorium ore…

In the end, he discovered with despair that… it was all utterly useless!

And now, another excellent test material was laid before him. He felt that this time, the probability of success was very, very high…

Chapter 52: The Spire Faction

The fine, white broth bubbled in the hot pot, its unique, fragrant aroma filling the air and whetting everyone’s appetite. Spread across the red pine round table was a vibrant and pleasing display of fresh vegetables, various cuts of meat, fish fillets, and shrimp.

“Victor, is this the ‘hot pot’ you invented?” Edwen asked, his eyes gleaming as he stared at the uniquely shaped copper pot.

The copper hot pot had a wide mouth and a round belly, with inner and outer layers. The inner layer held charcoal, while the outer layer held the boiling broth. There was even a small chimney in the middle for smoke to escape—it was the classic charcoal-heated copper hot pot commonly found on Earth.

“That’s right. This is the hot pot I invented recently. In this cold weather, a meal like this is the best way to warm up,” Victor said with a beaming smile.

The moment Edwen and Bruce returned to Victor’s Hill Camp, they went back to their temporary wooden houses, took a good long bath, and fell straight asleep. The past few days of fighting had truly exhausted them.

When they awoke, the sky was already dark. Just as their stomachs began to rumble, they received Victor’s invitation to dinner. And so, Edwen, Bruce, and Nicole came to Victor’s office villa, where they found the wonderful meal he had prepared for them—hot pot.

Victor had originally invited Bruce’s four retainer knights as well, but they needed to guard the Aberrant Rat corpses around the clock, even eating and sleeping in the same room, so they naturally couldn’t attend.

Victor understood the York family’s caution. A resource so vital to their family’s core interests could not be left unguarded for even a moment.

“Victor, is this bean sauce? Why is it so fragrant?” Edwen asked, lifting a small silver dish to his nose and taking a deep whiff. The aroma was so enticing that he couldn’t help but swallow.

“Because the bean sauce is seasoned with spices like Wild Thorn Herb, black pepper, and Green Artemisia,” Victor replied with a smile.

“Wild Thorn Herb? That plant has an enticing aroma, but it tastes bitter and astringent. How did you get rid of that flavor?” Edwen said after tasting the sauce. His mouth was filled with savory fragrance, completely free of the strange taste he had expected.

“The Wild Thorn Herb wasn’t added directly to the sauce. I fried it in acorn oil, which absorbed its fragrance. So, the acorn oil is the key to this sauce,” Victor explained proudly.

Speaking of which, Victor was the first to pioneer the extraction of oil from Iron-oak acorns. The people of this world had not yet developed the habit of extracting oil from plants, and their cuisine was limited to either stewing or roasting. For Victor, who was accustomed to a wide variety of culinary delights, this was unbearable. Fortunately, his fief was rich in flora and fauna, and with an expert like Busuo to help identify anything poisonous, Victor could freely experiment with all kinds of spices.

“Victor, your understanding of cuisine is beyond my imagination. This whole journey has been a real eye-opener. Compared to the lives of the court nobles in the Royal Capital, we really are just a bunch of country nobles,” Bruce said with a self-deprecating laugh.

The local nobles of Gambis considered the court nobles of the Royal Capital to be flashy and impractical, while the court nobles sneered at the local nobles for being crude country bumpkins.

“My lord Bruce, those unique spices weren’t discovered by Lord Victor. They were gathered by some of the newly joined freemen. Their survival skills are astonishing. They helped the camp find several new crops, like this ground-potato, which can be eaten as a staple food,” Narsen explained to Bruce, assuming the Alchemical auxiliary soldiers were newly joined freemen.

“Some freemen live in the wild for long periods. Their survival skills are a form of very valuable knowledge. It’s a pity that most of us at the Spire ignore this fact,” Edwen said with regret. He was one of the few Spire Scholars who recognized that the class divide prevented a great deal of useful knowledge from being collected and organized.

“Master, come try this sliced mutton. This is from the hind leg of a young yellow goat. Sliced thin, it just needs a quick dip in the boiling broth before you can eat it with the sauce,” Victor said, seeing Edwen’s somber expression. He quickly and attentively placed a piece of cooked mutton into the old scholar’s sauce dish.

Victor had meticulously planned this hot pot banquet to further close the distance between himself, Edwen, and Bruce, as he would soon have favors to ask of them.

There is an old saying: “Food can never be too fine, nor cooking too meticulous.” The refinement of a group’s diet reflects its level of civilization. The nobles of this world held themselves high and mighty, but in Victor’s eyes, they were rather ridiculous. They blindly pursued etiquette and ceremony without actually improving their quality of life.

From a culinary standpoint, their monotonous cooking methods and flavors meant there was little difference between the nobility and the common folk. To distinguish themselves as superior, nobles could only focus on elaborate tableware and rigid etiquette.

It was hardly surprising. A cook who served a lord had to handle miscellaneous chores in addition to cooking. During the busy farming season, he would have to help in the fields, and during times of war, he would have to don armor and fight. How could he possibly have the mind to study the culinary arts and innovate?

The lack of distinct social divisions was, at its root, due to low productivity. And besides humanity’s constant struggle against the Other races, Victor believed a more significant cause for this low productivity was the severe schism between the nobility and the commoners! Victor had a feeling this chasm was deliberately created.

However, Victor had no interest in studying such problems. Right now, he just wanted to build connections.

Edwen’s group had obtained the Aberrant creature. Such a great treasure would surely compel them to return to their own sphere of influence quickly, perhaps as early as tomorrow. Victor needed Edwen to help him promote his sugar, spices, and coffee, and he needed Bruce to look after his people in Black Fortress Town so his Purple Cane wine could earn its first pot of gold.

Thus, Victor’s method was simple: make sure everyone ate and drank well. This was perfectly in line with the customs of the Chinese people on Earth, and it was very effective.

“Victor, what kind of utensils are you using?”

Nicole’s beautiful eyes lit up as she watched Victor deftly use two slender wooden sticks to pick up food and place it in his dish. She was fascinated by these novel utensils.

“This? I call them chopsticks,” Victor said to the young lady with a sheepish grin. Only he and Narsen were using chopsticks; he had prepared knives, forks, tweezers, and slotted spoons for the other three.

“Let me try!” Nicole pouted at Victor, displeased that he hadn’t given her the same utensils.

“Alright, but chopsticks aren’t easy to use. It took Narsen two entire meals to master them. I think you could start by using… I mean, you’re perfectly ready to use chopsticks.”

A pair of chopsticks was handed to Nicole’s fair, slender hands. In the time it took Victor to speak, Nicole was already using them with nimble grace to enjoy the delicious meal.

“They’re really easy to use!” Nicole said, shooting Victor a sidelong glance that was both sly and charming.

“Let me try as well,” Edwen said with great interest.

But when the seemingly simple chopsticks were in his hands, Edwen found them impossibly difficult. No matter how many different ways he held them, he couldn’t even manage to pick up a single vegetable leaf. Meanwhile, Bruce was already wielding his chopsticks as if they were flying, happily dipping all sorts of ingredients.

“These chopsticks seem simple, but they are a true test of one’s coordination. Only a being like a Knight, whose spirit and body are so highly unified, could master their use so quickly. An ordinary person like me has no hope,” Edwen said, putting down the wretched chopsticks with a frown.

“It’s alright. The best thing about chopsticks is that they’re for sharing food,” Victor said with a smile, considerately dipping a tender piece of ground lizard meat for Edwen.

“Victor, this isn’t in line with noble etiquette,” Bruce teased with a laugh after Victor placed a cooked shrimp in his bowl.

The novel hot pot, the novel chopsticks, and the novel way of dining gave the etiquette-conscious Knight a special feeling of relaxation—an experience he had never had before.

“As long as you like it,” Victor replied with a smile. He dipped a fish fillet for Nicole, making the young lady’s heart flutter with sweetness.

Unwittingly, a warm and harmonious atmosphere spread across the table, bringing a knowing smile to everyone’s face.

This was the effect Victor wanted. The round table with no head, the delicious hot pot, and the way they cared for one another brought them closer. This was the true charm of traditional Chinese food culture.

Victor had already introduced this custom among his subjects and achieved excellent results, making them closer and more united.

“Narsen, I never would have guessed you were the Bear of the Northlands. Your battle with that Knight from the Tartus family has become a classic case study for apprentice knights. I even used it to instruct my own retainer knights,” Bruce said, raising his cup to Narsen with a smile. They had already been told about recent events.

“Oh? What happened?” Victor asked curiously. He only knew that Narsen had taken down a Knight head-on but hadn’t asked for the details.

“Narsen killed that Sasan Knight with a single blow. The story has spread throughout all the Knight circles,” Nicole said, covering her mouth with a giggle.

The female Knight had drunk some Purple Cane wine, and her face was flushed. Her blooming smile and the way her eyes danced were captivatingly beautiful, making Victor’s heart race.

It’s a good thing those four bastards couldn’t make it to the banquet, Victor thought gleefully. If they saw Nicole looking this gorgeous, they’d be dead set on stealing my girl.

“I didn’t expect that Sasan Knight to jump into the air and slash down at me the moment he saw us. That’s how I seized the opportunity to kill him in one strike. If he had attacked me on the ground, I can’t say for sure if I would have been able to beat him,” Narsen said in a low, muffled voice. Ever since learning he had been played, he no longer felt it was something to be proud of.

“The Leaping Slash. Slashing down from mid-air gives it immense power but also immense risk. Aside from intimidating ordinary people, it has no practical combat value. That Sasan Knight died of arrogance and frivolity, becoming a cautionary tale for all retainer knights,” Bruce said, shaking his head.

It finally dawned on Victor. That Sasan Knight must have mistaken Narsen for a common mercenary and gone straight for a big move. As a result, he was left suspended in the air with no leverage, and Narsen, with his 20 points of Physique, had cut him down on the spot.

So, that foolish Knight had died from his own reckless showboating and had shamefully become a cautionary tale. No wonder the Tartus family was furious.

“Victor, the way you handled the freemen this time was absolutely correct. That is the method a proper pioneer lord should employ,” Edwen said to Victor.

“To be honest, I felt a bit reluctant to kill so many people at once. But they were a threat to the safety of my subjects, so I had no choice,” Victor said with a wry smile.

“Victor, that is the resolve of a pioneer lord. You must understand that your so-called legal ownership is only recognized within the world of nobility. To those freemen who band together, they couldn’t care less about your legitimate status. Only strength can determine ownership of a territory. If you had a castle and knights, they would fear your power and submit to you. But since you don’t have those things, you must use an iron fist to display your strength. Otherwise, they will use an iron fist on you. You must remember: you can only afford to be merciful to those who submit to you!” Nicole said to Victor with great solemnity.

Nicole’s words cut straight to the heart of the matter, startling Victor. Benevolence for those who submitted, and an iron fist for those with ill intent—wasn’t this the principle of being a sage within and a king without?

“Thank you, Nicole. I will be sure to remember your words,” Victor said to her sincerely.

“Actually, those were Lady Sylvia’s words,” Nicole said, a little embarrassed by Victor’s gratitude.

Victor had always felt a strange sense of superiority over the nobles of this world, believing most of them to be ignorant and unenlightened. This perception stemmed from his perspective, which transcended the era. But Sylvia’s wisdom and insight made him realize that the lords and nobles of this world were not to be underestimated.

“Victor, I must remind you, wiping out the bandits in your fief this once is enough. You absolutely must not continue using such methods, or the Radiant Church will come looking for you. Compared to purging Wizards, the Church is more focused on protecting freemen and subjects. All lords who challenged the Church’s bottom line have paid a heavy price. Even the fifth Emperor of the Randt Empire died at the hands of the Church because he caused the deaths of seven thousand freemen,” Edwen also warned Victor.

“Could you be more specific? I find it strange. If the Church is so powerful and values the lives of freemen and subjects, why are there still so many displaced freemen in the human world? Can’t they change the living conditions of the common people?” Victor asked seriously. This was a matter of life and death, and he had to be cautious.

Edwen and Bruce exchanged a look, then continued, “This is a complex issue. I can discuss it with you in detail tomorrow. But, before that, you must join a faction!”

“What faction?” Victor asked with a frown. Although he had left the Prince’s Faction, he had no desire to join the Grand Duke’s Faction either.

“The Spire Faction!”

——————————

Dinner was over. Victor lay in bed, unable to fall asleep for a long time, still pondering Edwen’s words.

The so-called Spire Faction was, in essence, an alliance of all secular lords to resist the threat of the Church. Even rival families were expected to set aside their conflicts and stand united when facing coercion from the Church.

Without a second thought, Victor had of course joined this faction. What troubled him were the two pieces of information this revealed.

First, the Church was powerful. The lords had to unite their strength just to resist it.

Second, the Church was aggressive. Anyone who challenged its bottom line would be crushed.

The question now was, as a lord, what could Victor do to gain enough room to develop under the Church’s shadow? This was a problem he had to figure out. He did not want to inadvertently anger this behemoth and end up crushed to pieces.

Just as Victor was tossing and turning, he heard a faint noise from outside his door. Activating his Super Sense, the graceful figure of Nicole appeared in his mind. Victor’s heart pounded. Just as he was about to get up and open the door, he saw the bolt vibrate and slide open. The beautiful female Knight slipped into the room and immediately latched the door behind her.

Just as Victor was about to speak, Nicole’s warm body fell into his embrace. Her fragrant, soft lips pressed against his. Nothing more needed to be said…

The moonlight was gentle, lending a romantic air to its watery glow. It was truly a beautiful night.

Chapter 53: A Secret

A massive Swiftbird let out a dissatisfied gurgle. The saddle strapped to its body was making it extremely uncomfortable, but after seeing a gesture from Busuo, it obediently lay down.

“What next? Do I just feed it the ground lizard?” Nicole asked Busuo, who was standing beside her. She held a half-dead ground lizard in her delicate hand, feeling both thrilled and giddy at the prospect of riding this great bird.

This was, after all, the first time anyone had ever ridden one. Even Narsen was watching with a hint of envy, but Victor had given the opportunity to her with a single word.

Nicole was dressed in a form-fitting suit of soft, rhino-leather armor. This type of armor offered little in the way of defense, but its advantage was its light weight and flexibility, requiring it to be tailored to the wearer’s body. On the tall female Knight, it accentuated her long legs, slender waist, full bust, and curvaceous hips, making Victor’s eyes burn with desire.

With Busuo’s approval, Nicole fed the ground lizard to the prone Swiftbird, then quickly swung herself into the saddle and flicked the reins. The Swiftbird immediately stood, tilted its head back, and swallowed the five-kilogram ground lizard whole. It let out a loud cry and broke into a run, its legs a blur.

Watching Nicole’s graceful and agile movements, Victor sighed in admiration.

Knights truly have astonishing recovery abilities, he thought. Last night, she was whimpering in pain during our lovemaking, but today she’s acting as if nothing happened, even insisting on being the first to test-ride the Swiftbird… Actually, I wanted to ride it too.

“Victor, I truly never expected this. You actually managed to domesticate Swiftbirds?!” Edwen exclaimed in amazement as he watched Nicole ride the Swiftbird up a hill in the blink of an eye.

“Yes, to be honest, I’m quite surprised myself. I didn’t think the Villager group would make progress this quickly,” Victor said with a touch of pride.

Surprised, my foot! The Swiftbird was the traditional mount for the mountain light cavalry of the Néier Empire. The auxiliary soldier Busuo was intimately familiar with the habits of this type of ground-running bird, so domesticating them was a natural success.

Bruce observed the Swiftbird’s running motion, his expression grave.

He noted that the Swiftbird was slightly faster than a warhorse, but not by a significant margin. Its true advantage lay in its exceptional balance, allowing it to traverse complex terrain perfectly. For instance, it carried Nicole up a hill with effortless ease. When descending, its massive wings helped it slow down and maintain balance, keeping the rider firmly seated and preventing any chance of a fall. The Swiftbird was taller than a warhorse, and its feathers were tough, meaning it could easily pass through thorny bushes without being scratched. Its large, powerful talons gripped the ground firmly, keeping its body remarkably stable. Even during sharp turns, the rider felt little jolting, which would make mounted archery easier, swifter, and more precise.

Though he didn’t yet know the Swiftbird’s endurance, Bruce could already tell that in a hilly environment, this mount was far more valuable than a warhorse.

“My Lady Knight, would you like to give it a try? We can bring out another one,” the Villager Group Leader, Dean, offered enthusiastically, noticing the burning intensity in the knight’s eyes.

Dean’s words startled Bruce. He had some impression of this farmer; just three months ago, he had been a humble and timid freeman, yet now he dared to initiate a conversation with him.

“No need. Go on with your work.”

Dean bowed to Bruce. The knight’s refusal didn’t seem to disappoint him much. Instead, he turned and began loudly directing the villagers under his command.

Bruce could already feel that these commoners who had traveled with him were becoming more confident, more proactive. They were no longer the timid and sullen, lifeless puppets they had been. It was as if the sky had cleared after a storm, and they were beginning to show their own colors. And this change had taken a mere three months.

“You’re surprised, Victor, but I’m not surprised at all! Look at them! A few months ago, your people were half-dead freemen who didn’t even dare to make a sound when bullied by ruffians. But now, they’ve domesticated Swiftbirds, established a camp and a village, reclaimed wasteland, and even found several undiscovered types of crops. I knew it! Freemen are just as intelligent as we are, yet my colleagues at the Spire refuse to see it!” Edwen said to Victor with some agitation. The old scholar had long tried to persuade his peers at the Spire to collect and organize the knowledge and skills passed down among commoners, only to be met with ridicule by most.

“Master, you still haven’t answered my question from yesterday about the freemen and the Church,” Victor said, performing a solemn noble’s bow to Edwen. “As you know, I don’t have a deep understanding of the Church, nor am I an experienced lord. I implore you to tell me how I should handle my relationship with them.”

“Victor, as a lord who has agreed to join the Spire Faction, it’s time you knew certain things,” Edwen said, composing himself.

Without waiting for Victor’s command, Narsen dispersed the surrounding crowd and had the guards form a security perimeter.

“Master, I’m listening,” Victor said, giving Narsen an appreciative glance.

“Let’s talk about the freemen first. Freemen are refugees. These people are essentially landless commoners. Their survival is a struggle, yet their numbers are endless. Do you know why?”

Edwen didn’t wait for a reply. “The root cause is land. Land is finite, but the population is always growing. When a fief’s land is no longer sufficient to support everyone, the excess people become freemen who must fend for themselves. Think about it. After a barony passes through several generations of lords, the land is gradually divided up among vassals until there’s nothing left. At that point, even the children of vassals might have to find their own way in the world, let alone the subjects of a lower class.”

“But vassals are unwilling to let their children become lowly freemen. Their will influences their liege lord, and at that point, expansion and annexation become the lord’s only options. And thus, war breaks out. If it’s a war between two lords, the loser forfeits his lands, and his vassals and subjects become freemen.”

“Don’t expect the victor to take in those subjects and vassals. Their own vassals wouldn’t permit such a thing. They need more land to support their own descendants, even those not yet born. All vassals are exclusionary.”

Hearing this, Victor nodded. He finally understood why the Randt Emperor had seized the lands of Gambis’s three eastern provinces but hadn’t taken in the subjects, instead driving them all away. It was because he needed that land to reward the lords and generals who had fought and died for him.

“That is indeed the case. After the three eastern provinces fell, over one hundred twenty thousand people were displaced. Most of them migrated to the Centaur Pioneer Fief, but our York family, aside from our original fifty-thousand-plus subjects, only took in a little over eighteen thousand, even though the land here is more extensive than the three eastern provinces combined. The reality is that the vast majority of lords are unwilling to accept more freemen,” Bruce said with a nod.

Victor fell silent. When he had arrived to assume his post, there had been countless freemen waiting outside Black Fortress Town to be recruited. Unfortunately, very few lords were willing to hire them.

It made sense. If a family didn’t have enough land in reserve, they couldn’t even retain the knights of their own bloodline. How could they possibly fend off attacks from other families?

“Victor, never think that just because your fief is vast, you can take in freemen as you please. You must understand that the York family’s territory is several times larger than yours, with over sixty thousand subjects and vassals, yet we only have just over three thousand soldiers. My Lady Sylvia believes this is our limit. Any more would hinder the family’s potential for growth. With your current strength, you can’t manage more freemen. You need to use your land to recruit knights to defend your territory. Only then can you consider recruiting more subjects.”

Worried that Victor’s merciful nature would get the better of him again and send him running to Black Fortress Town to recruit more freemen, Bruce offered this sincere warning. Over their time together, he had come to consider Victor a friend.

“Since land is so precious, why don’t we go out and develop more territory?” Victor asked, nodding gratefully at Bruce.

“Heh, little Victor, I told you long ago, the Centaur Hills are hardly the untamed wilderness. The number of monsters here is pitifully small. You can’t even begin to imagine the dangers of a true wilderness,” Edwen said with a laugh.

“Beyond the northern mountains of the Kingdom of Naville lies a vast, boundless land. But for centuries, the Kingdom of Naville has built countless fortresses in those mountains, not to defend against the Sassans, but to hold back the powerful Other races.”

“You’ve seen Goblins, but you probably don’t know that countless Pioneering Knights have died at their hands over the centuries. In the true wilderness, a single goblin tribe can have thousands of them, with a large proportion of Hobgoblins and Bugbears. And that’s not to mention the terrifying Ogres among them.”

Victor had seen Goblins, but never Hobgoblins or Bugbears. He knew, however, that Hobgoblins possessed intelligence, while Bugbears were all monsters in a savage state!

“If the Forest Centaurs hadn’t withdrawn from the Centaur Hills on their own, the Kingdom of Gambia would never have dared to set its sights on this place. Even at the height of its power, the Randt Empire was battered and bloodied by the Forest Centaurs. You must understand, the proportion of beastmen who enter a Savage state is astonishingly high.”

Edwen’s words left Victor utterly shocked. He was finally beginning to realize that the struggle of humanity in this world was far more difficult than he had ever imagined.

“So, the cost of war between lords is far lower than the cost of pioneering the wilderness. No wonder the Sasan Empire chose to march south and wage war instead of developing the eastern wilds,” Victor murmured.

“Precisely!” Edwen said gravely.

Victor understood the meaning behind that gravity. In wars between lords, it was the common soldiers who died in the greatest numbers, while very few Knights fell in battle.

Firstly, Knights were far stronger than ordinary people and could hardly be harmed by common soldiers in a fight. Even if soldiers fought in formation, a Knight who couldn’t win could still escape. Ordinary people couldn’t possibly match a Knight’s speed, let alone their freakish stamina. As for battles between Knights, unless it was a formal duel, they rarely fought to the death. Even if captured, they could be ransomed by their families.

In short, such wars, win or lose, reduced the commoner population, thereby alleviating the pressures of population growth. As long as a family’s Knights remained, they had a chance to make a comeback, even if they lost a war.

Pioneering the wilderness was a different matter entirely. Those monsters ate people, and they wouldn’t come to a tacit understanding with a lord. To them, a Knight was just as edible, and probably tastier.

Knights were strong, but facing a swarm of Bugbears, even the chance of escape was slim. One relied on explosive power from Aura, the other on its own monstrous physique. When a Knight’s Aura was nearly depleted, they could only die filled with regret.

Therefore, as long as the human world remained disunited, no lord would undertake large-scale pioneering of the wilderness. The moment they depleted their own strength, they would inevitably be annexed. And so, internal warfare among humans became the chosen method for relieving pressure.

And thus, the stream of freemen was endless. This was the state of the world.

“Victor, this is the world of lords. It is entirely different from the luxurious, comfortable life of the Royal Capital. You must become strong as quickly as possible, otherwise…”

“I understand,” Victor said, his voice hoarse. Bruce’s deep, dark eyes sent a chill down his spine.

After a moment, Edwen broke the silence between the three of them. “Victor, do you know what a noble is?”

“A noble is a Knight,” Victor said in a low voice. He had pondered this question long ago.

“Correct! A Knight is a noble, and a noble is a Knight. We are the natural leaders of humanity because we possess a talent and power that ordinary people do not. This power is passed down through our bloodline and gives humanity the strength to stand against monsters and beastmen. That is why we became nobles, became lords,” Edwen said with a nod, his tone one of self-assured righteousness.

Victor fought the urge to cover his face. The old scholar seemed to have forgotten that, just like Victor himself, he had not awakened any knightly talent.

“Why don’t we spread this bloodline talent among more people?” Victor asked hesitantly.

From his modern perspective, Knights were incredibly awesome. Since they were so awesome, why not make more people awesome? Then, all the beastmen and monsters could be swept away!

I’m genuinely thinking about the future of humanity! I’m not trying to be a stud… oh no, not a stud bull! Victor told himself silently.

Victor had managed to stop himself from covering his face at Edwen’s impassioned speech, but upon hearing Victor’s question, it was Edwen who buried his old face in his hands.

“Victor, the purer a Knight’s bloodline, the greater the chance of awakening their talent, and the higher their Elemental Affinity. Furthermore, knight’s bloodlines have different ranks. For example, the bloodlines of the three great royal families frequently produce Gold Knights. The imperial family of the Randt Empire has even produced a Gold Knight who stepped into the legendary realm, and it happened twice!” Bruce explained to Victor.

“I really don’t know what Sophia has been teaching you! Did she not even tell you such basic, common knowledge?”

Edwen said, fuming, “You must understand, countless lords, in order to obtain the bloodline of a Gold Knight, have gone so far as to offer their own daughters and wives! Some fallen nobles, in order to restore their family’s glory, even resort to inbreeding! Surely you can imagine the importance of a pure knight’s bloodline now!”

“Furthermore, it is difficult for Knights to conceive. If you get Nicole pregnant, I guarantee she’ll see the child is born!” Edwen said coldly, adding silently, Especially for someone with an ancient bloodline like yours. Having children is even more difficult.

This time, Victor really did cover his face.

He knew it would come to this! After a night of passion, the last trace of girlish innocence had completely vanished from Nicole. Now, the female Knight’s every frown and smile exuded a watery, tender charm. Even a blind man could tell what had happened last night.

“Your common knowledge has been brought up to speed. Now, I will tell you an open secret of the Spire Faction.”

After a cough, Edwen continued, “Actually, during the Era of the Chosen, we Knights were all subordinates of Wizards!”

“What did you say?!”

Chapter 54: The Value of a Mystic Form

Nicole was gone. On the morning of the third day after their return to camp, Bruce and Edwen, along with the rest of the York family members and the Aberrant Rat, set off on their return journey. Accompanying them were Narsen and a party of more than fifty men, along with a full twenty barrels of Purple Cane wine.

Narsen’s company was a welcome surprise for Bruce, not because of safety concerns, but because Bruce had left in a hurry and many of his men’s wounds had not yet healed. With Victor’s convoy, these injured soldiers could rest in the carriages.

In return, Bruce readily agreed to Victor’s request to look after his people remaining in Black Fortress Town. This was a great relief to Victor. He currently had no foundation to speak of. No matter how outstanding the Purple Cane wine tasted, without the protection of a local power, it would be impossible for him to earn his first pot of gold. And as time went on, more and more people would start making imitation Purple Cane wine, making it impossible to reap such exorbitant profits.

As for the coffee, Edwen had already taken a large quantity with him. Victor believed that as soon as the old scholar returned to the Silver Spire, the coffee’s unique flavor and effects would win the favor of the Spire Scholars. The Spire’s influence over the human nobility would, in turn, make coffee fashionable throughout the upper echelons of society. However, Victor was still unsure if coffee would taste just as good with honey.

He still needed sucrose! At this thought, Victor squeezed the translucent white crystal in his hand. It was a parting gift from Nicole.

For the past two days, Victor and Nicole had been nearly inseparable. When Victor showed an interest in this type of crystal, Nicole had unhesitatingly given him the two she had collected. Nearly everyone who had participated in the marsh expedition had one, which showed that these miraculous crystals were not rare in the marsh. As for their specific location, Blackfeather knew.

Thinking of Nicole’s reluctance to part, Victor felt a pang of melancholy. He wished she could have stayed with him, but that was just a selfish thought. Victor knew he couldn’t give Nicole what she wanted—neither status nor the resources for a Knight’s training. He was still too weak. Nicole, on the other hand, was now a full-fledged female Knight. To advance to Silver-rank, she needed the York family’s support, both in terms of material resources and experience.

For nobles and Knights, love was perhaps merely an embellishment to life. What they sought was power, glory, bloodline, and authority. He didn’t know when he would see Nicole again. Perhaps by then, she would already be another man’s wife. Victor thought bitterly.

What Victor didn’t know was that the Trial of Life and Death had a profound and lasting impact on a Knight. Nicole hadn’t broken through her limits from the terror of death, but she had successfully advanced when Victor was in mortal danger. In that single moment, he had left an indelible mark on the female Knight’s heart. This would become the driving force for her to press forward, and one day, she would return to Victor’s side.

Victor shook his head, dispelling the reluctance and melancholy from his heart, and turned back toward the upper camp.

Narsen had already taken the vast majority of the War Bear Mercenaries to Black Fortress Town to sell the Purple Cane wine and let the single men unwind. The subjects in the camp, led by Lilia, were busy building the village and the refugee camp. The Hill Camp was practically deserted.

It was the perfect time to produce Alchemical Humans!

Victor strode quickly toward the upper camp. The thought that fifteen Alchemical Militia, each comparable to an apprentice knight, would soon be under his command set his heart ablaze, washing away even the sorrow of parting.

Arriving at the edge of the cave in the upper camp, Victor saw the Alchemical Militia, Reno, practicing the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form in a secluded clearing. He stood shirtless on the ground, holding a peculiar stance. Though he was motionless, his muscles rippled and writhed naturally under his bronze skin, as if small snakes were slithering just beneath the surface.

Victor couldn’t help but nod at this strange sight. The Ox-Subduing Stance was remarkably effective, but it wasn’t about building a hulking, muscle-bound physique. This mystic art primarily cultivated the skin, fascia, tendons, and bones, but it emphasized a principle of “liveliness.” It trained a person to achieve complete control over every muscle in their body, to channel their entire strength into every single move, until it finally worked from the outside in, fundamentally changing their physique. It was said that when the Ox-Subduing Stance was cultivated to its highest level, a person’s muscles would transform into a tendon-like tissue, and their bones would become as hard as iron. Their outward appearance would be no different from an ordinary person, but when they exerted their strength, they could subdue an ox with a single hand. The effectiveness of such training was truly astonishing.

However, reaching such a profound level was extremely difficult. Besides requiring sufficient nutritional supplements, it demanded decades of arduous practice—something that was almost impossible for an Alchemical Human with a lifespan of only fifteen years.

Physique 17, Spirit 10, Perception 10, Life 3.

Victor sighed and deactivated his Super Sense. Reno’s current stats were identical to his initial ones. This meant that for elemental attributes that had already surpassed their limits, the Mystic Form’s enhancement effect was almost zero. This realization frustrated Victor, as it meant his own Physique attribute could only reach a maximum of ten through training.

Condensing elemental attributes was a Knight’s talent, and the Laws of the world were not so easily broken!

Although the Mystic Form was of little help in condensing elements, that did not mean it was without value. Ultimately, the Physique attribute was just another name for the concentration of the earth element, and the mysteries of the human body were far more complex than a single elemental attribute. Otherwise, a grandmaster of the Ox-Subduing Stance would become a giant in this world.

“Reno, how do you feel now?” Victor asked after Reno had finished his practice.

“My lord, I feel very tired, more tired than chopping down a hundred trees. And I’m extremely hungry,” Reno replied with a straight face.

The cultivation of the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form worked from the outside in, thoroughly exercising every single muscle. A short, two-hour session had left even Reno, with his Physique of 17, feeling utterly exhausted. This was a testament to the sophistication of the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form.

“My lord, I’d like to go get something to eat,” Reno said, looking at Victor with pleading eyes.

This unbearable hunger was also part of the training. Only by fully replenishing one’s nutrients could one achieve good training results. If he didn’t eat during this time, the feeling of hunger would soon disappear.

“First, give that sandbag a full-power punch for me to see. Then you can go eat,” Victor ordered with a cold expression. Reno’s reputation as a big eater had already spread throughout the entire camp.

Reno stood before the sandbag and threw a straight punch. Before his large fist even made contact, it generated a sharp sound like a clap of thunder. With a loud boom, the three-hundred-pound sandbag shot backward like a cannonball. The taut iron chain ripped the sturdy iron-oak frame clean out of the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.

“Fix it!” Victor said with a stern face and walked into the cave, leaving Reno standing there dumbly, scratching the back of his head.

Inwardly, Victor was ecstatic. With the help of his implant, Victor had clearly recorded the entire process of Reno exerting force. Reno’s punch had seemed to lack any wind-up, but the moment he struck, his feet had stomped down hard, leaving two deep footprints in the ground as evidence. Using that motion, Reno had mobilized the strength of most of the muscles in his body to deliver that earth-shattering blow.

The Ox-Subduing Mystic Form not only strengthened one’s tendons and bones, but it also increased the efficiency of one’s power output. This was the value of the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form!

In his Seamless state, Victor was as fast as a phantom, and with his implant’s coordination, his movements were incredibly precise. But his lack of strength limited his lethality. He recalled his fight with the Old Ogre. During its frenzied attack, Victor had stabbed and slashed it with his shortsword dozens of times, yet he hadn’t even managed to pierce the ogre’s muscle tissue.

If Victor could truly cultivate to the legendary state where his tendons and bones were like a dragon’s and his inner and outer self were one, he would be able to call upon the full power of his body with every move. Even with a Physique of only ten, he could unleash immense might. At that point, even an ordinary Knight would likely fall to his sword.

Before reaching the extraordinary realm, the characteristics of a normal Knight were speed, precision, and power. Victor’s speed and precision were unparalleled. As long as he made up for his lack of power, he would be even more terrifying than a Knight.

“King!” Victor called out, connecting with the Tower Spirit, feeling cocky, as if he were already a Knight-level powerhouse.

“My lord, I am here,” the King responded. “You seem to be in a good mood?”

“Of course! The effects of the Mystic Form are ridiculously good!”

“My lord, are you being sarcastic?” The King was unsure of its master’s meaning. It knew that the Mystic Form’s current effects were not ideal.

“No, no, no. The Mystic Form and elemental attributes are two completely different systems. If elemental attributes are the principal capital, then the Mystic Form is the ability to use that capital. For example, if Reno’s potential strength is two tons, how much of that can he actually use? Without the Mystic Form, he might only be able to exert eight hundred kilograms of force. But with the Mystic Form, he can exert one-point-five tons, or even more.”

“The Mystic Form can enhance the Alchemical Militia’s combat effectiveness!” the King summarized.

“It’s a huge enhancement, a startling advantage in combat! Besides, it’s too early to conclude whether the Mystic Form can raise elemental attributes. After all, Reno and I have only been practicing for a short time,” Victor said, still unwilling to give up hope. He felt that the Mystic Form had to be more than it seemed; after all, it was a skill recognized by the Néier Empire’s Alchemy Tower.

“Alright, report the Alchemy Tower’s current production status,” Victor then commanded.

“My lord, the Alchemy Tower has currently produced six Alchemical Crows, one Alchemical Auxiliary Soldier, and one Alchemical Militia. Soul Fire consumed: thirty-five. Remaining Soul Fire: four thousand nine hundred sixty-five. Gold Sols in reserve: twenty-four thousand five hundred.”

“King, calculate the production time for ten Alchemical Militia and nine Alchemical Crows.”

Victor planned to assemble a force to go to the Great Marsh and collect those special crystals. But the Great Marsh was deep and unpredictable, fraught with danger. If he sent a weak force, it was very likely none of them would return. He really couldn’t afford to lose too many Alchemical Militia right now, but the crystals were too important to ignore. So, he would dispatch a force powerful enough to ensure success in one go. Ten Alchemical Militia, who were stronger than apprentice knights, plus fifteen alchemical crows—if they were careful, they would surely succeed.

“It will take approximately thirteen days,” the King replied.

“That’s too long. I still need time to integrate the Alchemical Militia among the freemen,” Victor responded with a frown.

“My lord, you could consider the Alchemical Warhound. If you produce five Warhounds and five Militia, the time can be shortened to seven days.”

The King’s words made Victor’s heart stir.

Alchemical Warhound: Physique 18, Spirit 4, Perception 14, Life 5. Cost: 800 Gold Sols. Lifespan: 4 years. Innate skills: Wild Instinct, Tracking, and Bloodlust.

The Alchemical Warhound was currently the strongest of all the alchemical creatures. It had the highest Life attribute and the highest Physique attribute, and its Perception was an astonishing fourteen, second only to the Alchemical Crow’s sixteen.

The Warhound’s skills were also extremely powerful, especially Wild Instinct. According to the King’s description, it was a beast’s intuition that could predict danger. This would be exceptionally useful in the complex environment of the Great Marsh. Victor believed that if Bruce’s party had brought an Alchemical Warhound, they certainly wouldn’t have been successfully ambushed by that Aberrant Rat—though they would probably rather have been ambushed by the rat.

The Alchemical Warhound was a standard dire animal template. This massive dog weighed 120 kilograms, was tall, and had a ferocious appearance, making it impossible to conceal. That was why Victor had excluded it from his production queue early on.

But Edwen’s discussion yesterday about Wizards, nobles, and the Church had given Victor an idea.

According to Edwen, most lords would not completely clear their territories of monsters and bandits. This was to prevent a large influx of freemen into their lands, as an excess population would only drag down the entire fiefdom. Therefore, in a territory without monsters, there were bound to be bandits, and these bandits were likely connected to the lord.

The lords were forced to do this out of necessity. Unless it was a Pioneer Fief that had not yet been evangelized by the Church, the presence of a priest meant that the lord could not wantonly kill freemen. If they were simply driven away, the freemen would soon return. Thus, these little schemes came into being.

Victor now also needed a clandestine force to help him control his entire fief, and the Alchemical Warhound was an excellent choice!

“King, that was a good reminder. However, before I issue the production order, I have some information I need you to help me analyze. See if there’s any connection to the Néier Empire.”

Victor did not rush to produce the alchemical creatures. Instead, he decided to disclose the secret Edwen had told him to the King. As a new lord without even an advisor or a steward, he could really only consult with the King when he encountered problems.

“My lord, I no longer have the ability to read your memories. Please recall the entire process in your mind, and I can acquire the information to help with your analysis.”

At the King’s request, Victor began to recall the history that Edwen had narrated, concerning Wizards, Knights, and the Church…

Chapter 55: History (Part 1)

“

Eight thousand years ago, the human world was a world ruled by Wizards.

“

These humans, possessing extraordinary abilities, were horrifyingly powerful. A monster colony of several thousand Goblins could be annihilated by a Wizard with a mere snap of their fingers. Under the leadership of the Wizards, humanity conquered one territory after another, and the other races on the continent had almost no ability to resist. In fact, the current territories of the human world were inherited from the Era of the Chosen, though they have shrunk considerably.

“

The Wizards of that era were engrossed in researching all sorts of abilities. In order to obtain a variety of experimental materials, they gathered followers to serve them. The Wizards had no mind to manage ordinary people; they only yearned to obtain more, and stronger, abilities. Thus, they handed the task of managing the common people to humans who had an affinity for the elements. These people were the Knights.

“

One by one, groups with Wizards as leaders, Knights as administrators, and common people as servants were born, establishing one city-state after another.

“

Each Wizard city-state was composed of three to five Wizards, several hundred Knights, and tens of thousands of commoners. The Wizards had no interest in secular power. They lived in the tall Wizard Towers within the city-states, engaged in all manner of research, while the affairs of the city-state were all handled by the Knights. These Knights gradually became the rulers of ordinary humans. They began to call themselves Nobles, but there was one thing they never forgot: to satisfy the various demands of the Wizard lords.

“

The transmission of a Wizard’s power was completely different from the inheritance of a knight’s bloodline. The awakening of a Wizard was completely random. One day, a lowly beggar might awaken to become a high and mighty Wizard, as if they had been chosen by a god. That is why the Wizards called themselves the ‘Chosen’.

“

Whenever a new Chosen appeared, the Nobles of the city-state would respectfully invite them into the Wizard Tower to receive guidance from other Wizards. This was because a city-state that lost its line of Wizard succession would lose its foundation for existence. The monsters of that time were far more powerful than they are now. Dragons ran rampant in that era, and only Wizards could repel those greedy, giant reptiles.

“

Strangely, no Knight ever had the talent to awaken as a Wizard, but this did not hinder their ruling status, because their descendants were born Nobles. The descendants of Wizards were not so lucky. Once a Wizard died, their children would quickly lose their status. This left a bitter taste in the mouths of living Wizards, but their offspring were indeed ordinary people without power. Even if the Wizards were willing to care for the descendants of their colleagues, for how many generations could they do so?

“

Until an Archwizard named Andrew invented a ritual that could help the descendants of Wizards awaken their own talent. This ritual was the Blood Sacrifice!

“

The advent of the Blood Sacrifice sent great waves through the world of Wizards. There were opponents, and there were proponents. But soon, the Wizards discovered to their surprise that the Blood Sacrifice could not only help ordinary people become Wizards, but it could also enhance a Wizard’s power and lifespan.

“

The Blood Sacrifice ritual had become unstoppable!

“

In the Wizard city-states that practiced the Blood Sacrifice, the number of Wizards grew, and their power increased. The other Wizard city-states could no longer sit idly by. The practice of Blood Sacrifice began to spread throughout the human world, sweeping across the entire northern continent and affecting all intelligent races.

“

Wizards used all kinds of creatures for the Blood Sacrifice. They discovered that using Dragons, Elves, humans, and Barbarians yielded the best results, while the effects from using beastmen and monsters were surprisingly poor.

“

Subsequently, under the leadership of the Wizards, humanity launched a war against the other races. Countless lives were lost, yet the Wizards grew ever stronger. When the other races began to unite against humanity, they discovered to their despair that the human Wizards had already become invincible.

“

The final result was that the powerful Dragons fled to the Outer Realms, the Elves vanished into the Endless Forest without a trace, and the Barbarians, who lived in tribes, were completely annihilated on the northern continent. This situation has persisted to this day.

“

With the last Barbarian on the northern continent used in a Blood Sacrifice, the Wizards turned their gaze upon their own kind.

“

Power, like a drug, corroded the Wizards’ minds and humanity. By this point, the Wizards no longer considered themselves members of the human race. They began to use humans for their Blood Sacrifices.

“

At first, they used death-row prisoners from their own city-states, but the situation quickly spiraled out of control. The newly-ascended Wizards within the city-states, hungry for power and influence, became increasingly unscrupulous. Innocent commoners were sent to the altars by the dozens, then hundreds, then thousands. The largest Blood Sacrifice on record resulted in the deaths of one hundred thousand commoners!

“

Soon, the Wizards found that the population under their control was dwindling. They began to plunder the populations of other city-states for their Blood Sacrifices.

“

And so, a war among the Wizards erupted.

“

This war between Wizards was brutal beyond the imagination of ordinary people. Before some city-states were breached, their Wizards would simply perform a Blood Sacrifice on the entire city’s population to gain immense power, allowing them to successfully counter-attack or escape.

“

Humanity was on the brink of extinction, and the Knights were not spared. Finally, some began to resist the Wizards, but it was futile. All who resisted, whether commoner or noble, were sent to the altar by the Wizards. The Wizards began to rule the surviving humans with even greater cruelty, like hungry wolves eyeing a flock of sheep.

“

It was then that Inoc appeared. This son of a tailor declared that he had been called by the Lord of Radiance to utterly purify the spawn of the devil—the Wizards—and to liberate all of humankind.

“

He single-handedly stormed the Wizard Tower of his own city-state, killing every Wizard within. Afterward, he founded the Radiant Church and began to eliminate the Wizards of other city-states.

“

At first, the Wizards paid Inoc no mind, thinking he was just another awakened Chosen. But soon, they discovered to their horror that Inoc’s power was as vast as the ocean and as deep as an abyss, utterly unfathomable. Moreover, he could use a golden horn to summon twelve Radiant Angels to fight for him.

“

In just one short year, one Wizard Tower after another was toppled by the Radiant Church. Hundreds of Wizards were purified, and countless commoners flocked to Inoc’s banner, forming a massive army that declared war on the entire world of Wizards. The Knights, however, chose to watch from the sidelines, for they understood the power of the Wizards all too well.

“

Facing pressure from the Radiant Church, the Wizards quickly abandoned their internal wars and united to attack the Church. Led by thirty-four Legendary Wizards, the Wizard army annihilated the Radiant Army. After killing fourteen Legendary Wizards himself, Inoc was forced to flee.

“

Inoc realized he had failed because he had been tied down by the Legendary Wizards, while the Radiant Army, composed of commoners, was no match for the army of Knights and was quickly wiped out.

“

This made him realize that to defeat the Wizards, he had to unite with the Knights. But how could he convince the Knights to rebel against their masters?

“

Inoc prayed to the Lord of Radiance, and the Lord of Radiance answered him, changing the very Laws of the world. After that, the entire world was different.

“

After that day, the extraordinary power of Wizards was greatly weakened, the Blood Sacrifice no longer had any effect, and Inoc’s divine arts were similarly diminished. Yet, the power of the Knights remained unchanged…

“

The balance was thus broken. When the Knights discovered that the Wizards were no longer so invincible, they finally rallied to Inoc’s side and raised their blades against their former masters.

“

Under the combined assault of the Church and the Knights, the Wizards were utterly defeated and scattered in all directions. The last organized Wizard army fled south of the Goldwater River to the southern continent, but Inoc pursued them. Under the assault of the twelve Radiant Archangels, they were reduced to ashes. The destruction of this army marked the end of the Era of the Chosen and the dawn of the Radiant Era.

“

——————————

“

“King, this is the first part of the history Edwen told me. What have you discovered?” Victor asked the King.

“

“My lord, this part of history should cover the period between eight thousand and seven thousand years ago. Based on the content, several key points can be identified.”

“

“First, at that time, humanity was a dominant race. The fundamental reason for this was the existence of the Chosen. Although the source of the Chosen’s power is unknown, it was undoubtedly a form of extraordinary power. Therefore, that era can be called a High Magic Era.”

“

“Second, humanity’s turning point came from a Blood Sacrifice ritual ‘invented’ by an Archwizard named Andrew. But any sacrifice has a recipient, so this was no invention at all; it was a transaction. The two parties in the transaction were the human Wizards and an extraordinary being, or a group of extraordinary beings.”

“

“The content of the transaction was the offerings for the Blood Sacrifice and extraordinary power. Moreover, these offerings were mostly highly socialized, intelligent beings. According to the soul theory of the Alchemical Empire, the more intelligent a being is, the more complex its Will Side. Therefore, I speculate that what this group of extraordinary beings wanted was precisely the souls of intelligent creatures!”

“

“The nature of the Blood Sacrifice can verify this point. Life is forcibly terminated, allowing the Soul Fire and Will Side to be extracted in their most complete state. This is because for an intelligent being whose Soul Fire extinguishes naturally, the weakening of their Spirit attribute also slows the functioning of their Will Side, even causing it to break down. This manifests as the characteristics of aging, such as memory loss, dullness, and apathy.”

“

“Third, since the Blood Sacrifice is a transaction, then both parties in the transaction are on equal footing. My lord, do you know what this implies?” the King asked Victor.

“

“I’m still not quite sure…” An idea seemed to flicker in Victor’s mind, but it was as if shrouded in mist, impossible to see clearly.

“

“My lord, this means that these extraordinary beings are essentially the same as humans. They may differ in form and have varying levels of power, but they must be of the same origin, perhaps even sharing a common ancestor,” the King said calmly.

“

“Wait! Are you saying devils and we share a common ancestor?!” The King’s words struck Victor like a clap of thunder, leaving him aghast.

“

“My lord, regardless of what these extraordinary beings are called, one thing is certain: they are by no means superior to humans. My lord, would you make a trade with an ant?”

“

“Yes, I wouldn’t trade with an ant, but I would trade with freemen when my own power is insufficient, like with Bayr in Flatlake Village,” Victor murmured.

“

“But how does that prove that extraordinary beings share our origin?” Victor couldn’t help but ask again, his mind a complete muddle.

“

“This can be seen from the transmission of the Wizards’ power. The Wizards at that time were the masters of extraordinary power, or perhaps they could also be called extraordinary beings. But all Wizards awakened naturally, so we can call them the ‘Awakened’.”

“

“So, that raises a question: was the extraordinary power of the Awakened bestowed upon them? Or was it their own potential?”

“

“On the surface, the Blood Sacrifice allowed ordinary people to become Awakened and gave Wizards greater power. This seems like a bestowment of great might, but it is merely an illusion.”

“

“That doesn’t make sense!” Victor shouted in his mind. “It doesn’t fit the logic of an equal transaction!”

“

“If it were bestowed power, these extraordinary beings wouldn’t need to trade with Wizards at all! They could just bestow this power upon ordinary people, or the other races, and they could rule the entire world, plundering the souls of all intelligent races!”

“

“But they didn’t do that, because they couldn’t! It was all a scam! They tricked humanity! It wasn’t a gift of power, but an awakening. They awakened humanity’s own latent potential, turning ordinary people into the Awakened. It is precisely because this is humanity’s own power that they couldn’t control it and couldn’t rule humanity. They could only constantly lure humans into performing Blood Sacrifices!”

“

“And the reason they chose to trade with humans and not the other races is because they couldn’t! Either because the other races lacked this potential, or because they were unable to awaken it. And they could enhance the power of human Wizards! This shows that they understood a human’s extraordinary power like the back of their hand! They… share a common origin with humans!” Victor finally understood what the King meant.

“

“But why couldn’t Knights become Awakened?” Victor asked the King, still puzzled.

“

“There isn’t enough information to analyze that question. Perhaps the Knights themselves are a type of Awakened, but that speculation has major contradictions. For instance, if the Church purifies the Awakened, why would they spare the Knights? Why weren’t the Knights weakened when the world’s Laws changed? So, there is no answer to that question at present,” the King responded.

“

“Alright! Continue your analysis,” Victor instructed. He had originally just wanted to vent to the King to relieve some stress, but he hadn’t expected the King to be able to analyze so much information.

“

“The fourth point. The turning point in the war between the Wizards and the Church was when the Lord of Radiance changed the Laws of the world, turning a High Magic Era into a Low Magic Era, thereby stripping the Wizards of most of their power and ending the rule of the Chosen. This is a fact, but the process is debatable.”

“

“The Lord of Radiance is also a powerful extraordinary being, but like those… ‘devils,’ He cannot directly interfere with this world.”

“

The King considered for a moment and decided to call those extraordinary beings ‘devils,’ as it was more in line with human sentiment.

“

“Otherwise, the Radiant Church’s army would not have suffered such a crushing defeat! So, while He is much more powerful than the devils, He is not an entire order of magnitude stronger. If He could truly change the Laws of the world, why would the extraordinary power of the Radiant Church be weakened as well?”

“

“I believe that the Lord of Radiance did not change the world’s Laws through His own power, but through a special device. It’s even possible that this was a natural phenomenon of the world’s evolution! The fact that this change in Law was equally effective on Him is enough to show that the Lord of Radiance is not as supreme as the Church proclaims.”

“

“Furthermore, when the other races faced annihilation, the Lord of Radiance did not intervene. But when humanity was on the verge of extinction, He acted. This shows that the Lord of Radiance also has a great connection to humanity, or that humanity is very special, or that the Lord of Radiance is humanity’s protector. But one thing is certain: His goals are completely different from those of the devils. He did indeed protect humanity.”

“

“As for His specific objectives, we cannot analyze that at present,” the King said.

“

“Then do you think the Radiant Church is just?” Victor asked, his eyes glinting.

“

“From the perspective of humanity as a whole, it is undeniable. Whatever their motives, they protected humanity from extinction and saved the weak commoners from slaughter. These are facts.”

“

“Doesn’t that make me the villain, then? I joined the Spire Faction, after all,” Victor said with a bitter smile. The Spire Faction was a faction of lords established to resist the Church, and they were indeed opposed to the Church, which represented the majority.

“

“My lord, humanity’s justice does not have to be your justice. Just like that gardener who was purified. He was a naturally Awakened, but he was not a criminal, yet he was ruthlessly suppressed by the Church. To him, the Church is evil.”

“

“Then what do you think is the real reason the Church purifies the Awakened?” Victor asked.

“

The Church’s attitude toward dealing with Wizards was extremely resolute. They proclaimed to the world that Wizards were the spawn of the devil, inherently Evildoers who would bring great disaster upon humanity. Any Wizard, even an infant, had to be purified! This was one of the Radiant Church’s two fundamental bottom lines.

“

“One purpose is clear: they want to sever the connection between the devils and this world. You must remember that the one who first made contact with the devils was the naturally awakened Archwizard Andrew. I believe that an Awakened’s power grows over time, eventually allowing them to communicate with devils. Therefore, the Church will absolutely not give Wizards time to grow, purifying even innocent infants. Strategically speaking, though the methods are cold-blooded and ruthless, they are correct.”

“

“For the benefit of the majority, they extinguish threats in the bud. It seems righteous and noble, but it’s built upon one bloody tragedy after another. All just because of an uncontrollable awakening, even if he were a devout believer in the Lord of Radiance?” Victor sneered.

“

“My lord, that is the fact of the matter. When you face a threat, you will also extinguish it in the bud.”

“

The King’s words left Victor speechless. He had been just as iron-fisted and ruthless when facing the threat of the freemen.

“

“If one day, I too become a threat to everyone’s safety? Must I just offer my neck to be slaughtered?” Victor asked himself, feeling a little helpless.

“

“My lord, if that day ever comes, please follow your own instincts.”

“

The King’s words caused Victor’s somewhat scattered gaze to focus, becoming deep and unfathomable. He chuckled lightly, “Follow my instincts? Well said! Just like the Blair siblings from the Pantheon.”

“

“My lord, I am waiting for your recollection of the next part of history.”

“

Chapter 56: History (Part 2)

“

The Radiant Church had successfully overthrown the rule of the Wizards, but Inoc now faced a new problem: how to rule the human world? Most importantly, how should he handle the relationship with the Knight class?

“

In the post-war human world, the commoner class wholeheartedly supported the Radiant Church’s rule and devoutly believed in the Lord of Radiance. But the Knight class, having long witnessed the extraordinary power of the Wizards, regarded the Lord of Radiance with awe but not devout faith. This set them apart from the commoner believers.

“

Meanwhile, the commoner believers harbored resentment toward these former “lackeys” of the Wizards, even though it was the Knights’ defection that had made overthrowing the tyrannical Wizards possible.

“

Beyond these internal conflicts, Inoc also discovered that humanity faced an external crisis of survival.

“

The change in the world’s Law had weakened the Wizards’ power, but it had also diminished the strength of the clergy. Humanity was at its most vulnerable, and beastmen and monsters were beginning to threaten human territories.

“

Furthermore, though the Wizards had been defeated, they were not extinct, as the awakening of a Wizard was a random occurrence. To prevent the Wizard class from rising from the ashes, the Radiant Church had to constantly purge and Purify newly Awakened Wizards.

“

However, Inoc found that they simply did not have enough clergy. Continuing to win over the Knight class became his only option.

“

In the first year of the Radiant Calendar, Inoc held a coronation ceremony on the Mountain of Light. He proposed tenets of protection, redemption, devotion, and faith. Inoc became the Pope of the Radiant Church, styled as Inoc I, and the position of Pope would be inherited by his descendants, a tradition that continues to this day.

“

Pope Inoc I announced the formation of the Radiant Knights and, on the spot, created seven Paladins from among the Knights who had first followed him, bestowing upon their family names the prefix “Holy.” That day, an angel descended, and holy light swirled around them. The seven Gold rank Paladins, blessed by divine power, ascended to the legendary realm in a single leap. The Knights who witnessed the ceremony were all struck with awe.

“

The Pope then announced the implementation of a feudal system. The Church would recognize the Knights’ status as Nobles and require them to serve as lords. They would govern their territories alongside the clergy, protect the commoners, fight against the other races, and eliminate any new Wizards.

“

Inoc I clearly defined the duties and obligations of each class: lords had the duty to protect and the obligation of faith; the clergy had the duty to redeem and the obligation of faith; the commoners had the duty to be devoted and the obligation of faith.

“

Finally, Inoc I promulgated the Radiant Code. The section on the Lord’s Law explicitly stated that the Nobles’ right to rule was sacred and inviolable. This meant that the Radiant Church would not seize a noble’s fief, and even if a lord was executed for violating a Church decree, his bloodline’s right to inherit would not be revoked.

“

With the issuance of the Code, all the Knights were satisfied. They swore allegiance to the Pope on the spot and then joyfully went to take up their posts in various lands, thus beginning the system of noble feudalism that has lasted to this day.

“

Inoc I’s feudal system not only eliminated the risk of open war between the Church and the Knight class but also enlisted the Knights to help the Church fight other races and purge Wizards, giving the Church time to recuperate and grow stronger.

“

It seemed that everyone was satisfied, but new conflicts arose as time went on.

“

As the Knights carried out their duties as lords, they were dismayed to discover that without the leadership of Wizards, they couldn’t withstand the attacks of beastmen and monsters.

“

In the past, when Knights cleared out monster lairs under the command of Wizards, the Wizards would typically hurl a few massive fireballs to shatter the monster ranks, and the Knights would then move in to clean up. The entire process was effortless. But now, facing large swarms of monsters in a Savage state, they learned that even the most insignificant Goblin horde was not so easy to deal with. Even with the help of the Church’s clergy, it was no use. The clergy had few extraordinary powers suited for direct combat, and critically, their power had also been weakened. The result was a grim cycle: Knights fought bloody battles against monsters, suffered grievous wounds, were healed by the clergy, and then continued to fight, only to be grievously wounded again… and if they were unlucky enough to die in battle, they were truly dead. There was never any such thing as resurrection.

“

For seven thousand years, under the encroachment of monsters, human territory has continuously shrunk. To date, it has lost sixty percent of the land it held during the Era of the Chosen.

“

The inability to expand externally only exacerbated internal conflicts. Lords who lost their fiefs could only seek living space within human lands, a process that led to constant friction and mergers between lords. Gradually, the balance between them was broken. Some lords grew stronger and stronger, while others grew weaker. The weaker lords began to seek the protection of the powerful, and these acts of submission and alliance created one interest group after another, leading to the emergence of a noble hierarchy.

“

In Radiant Year 1757, over five thousand years ago, the most powerful coalition of lords in the human world declared the establishment of a kingdom. The first kingdom in human history was born.

“

But three years later, this kingdom fell apart, for its king and several great lords were executed by the Church!

“

The reason was that the kingdom had launched a war of annexation, causing a great number of civilian casualties—something the Radiant Church could not tolerate.

“

The Church publicly declared that these lords had violated the Radiant Code, forsaken their duty to protect, and wantonly slaughtered commoners, making them Evildoers just like the Wizards. Therefore, in accordance with its duty of redemption, the Church had to terminate these evil acts of war and execute the evil lords.

“

This was the first time the Church had executed lords, and the power it displayed left all other lords trembling with fear.

“

By this time, the Church had trained a large number of clergy, and the Radiant Knights had become the most powerful armed force in the human world, boasting a total of eleven Paladins in the legendary realm.

“

With such immense power, the Church was by no means passive in the face of invasions by other races. In fact, all clergy demonstrated incredible bravery when facing monster attacks. They were always the first to charge and the last to retreat. Many clergy died on the battlefield protecting the people, their lives and blood writing countless moving and heroic sagas. This is also why the clergy of the Radiant Church are so skilled in martial arts.

“

The mighty Radiant Knights also struck out in all directions, annihilating tens of thousands of monsters and reclaiming large swathes of lost territory.

“

The problem was that the clergy of the Radiant Church completely abided by the Lord’s Law in the Radiant Code. They would return the reclaimed land to the lord and then depart without a second glance!

“

When the lords took back their lands, they were left speechless with grief, on the verge of tears. Before long, the monsters would swarm back, and the lords would lose their territory once again.

“

“See, I have fulfilled my duty of redemption. But I don’t have the right to rule. Now that I’ve taken the land back for you, you’ve lost it again? No problem, I’ll take it back for you again. What? You don’t want it anymore? Alright then, I’ll be off elsewhere.”

“

After a few such episodes, the lords who were powerless to protect their territories had no choice but to declare their abandonment of the land and join other families. The Radiant Knights, in turn, would no longer clear out that territory. This is why human lands have grown ever smaller.

“

With their external living space squeezed by monsters and their internal affairs suppressed by the military might of the Church, the lords were pushed closer together. They realized that only through unity could they stand against a behemoth like the Church. And so, marriage alliances and knightly duels took their place on the stage of history.

“

During that period, lords used intermarriage to strengthen their bonds and knightly duels to resolve irreconcilable disputes.

“

It was the advent of the knightly duel that allowed the Knight class to form its own values: valor, honor, and integrity. It also enabled the lords to establish many kingdoms. Since there were no massive civilian casualties, the Church, sure enough, did nothing.

“

However, the idea that kingdoms could be unified through marriage alliances and knightly duels was simply laughable.

“

The emergence of kingdoms consolidated the power of the Knight factions, which in turn drove the development of human civilization. In Radiant Year 2535, four thousand five hundred years ago, a noblewoman named Arya founded the Silver Spire. She was the first to propose that lords should unite the commoners within their territories and introduced the concepts of vassals, subjects, and freemen.

“

This system was of great significance and had a profound impact.

“

First, it stratified the commoner class, weakening the Church’s control over the territories and thereby strengthening the lords’ rule, making the secular human kingdoms more stable.

“

Second, this system changed the nature of warfare. Wars between human kingdoms were no longer just single knightly duels but small-scale wars between elite forces, which perfectly suited the needs of the human kingdoms.

“

The first large-scale war between human lords resulted in over twenty thousand casualties, and the lords who initiated it were subsequently crushed by the Church. As a result, the lords began to use knightly duels to resolve conflicts, which allowed for the establishment of kingdoms. But relying on knightly duels to resolve conflicts between kingdoms was unrealistic. What often happened was that after two Knights foolishly finished their fight, the two kingdoms would start bickering with each other for ten thousand years…

“

Small-scale wars, however, did not provoke a backlash from the Church. Soon, the first human empire was born.

“

The appearance of the empire made the power of the Knight class stronger than ever before. This gave them the confidence to confront the Church, which also exacerbated the conflict between the nobility and the Church, a conflict that continues to influence the world to this day.

“

————————————

“

“King, from this history that Edwen told me, what else have you discerned?” Victor asked expectantly. He had come to regard the King as his counselor.

“

“My lord, ‘What has long been united must divide, and what has long been divided must unite’ is the natural law of human social development. The Church is obstructing this law,” the King responded.

“

“Right! I knew it! There’s something wrong with the Church! For humanity to open up more living space, they must unite. Only by concentrating their strength can they defeat the monsters and beastmen hordes in the wilderness. But the Church prevents the human world from uniting. They had sinister motives from the very beginning when they implemented the feudal system!”

“

“The Radiant Church’s goal is to harvest the faith of humanity! Only suffering can make the common people more devoutly believe in the Lord of Radiance. Knights, on the other hand, are more accustomed to relying on their own strength and won’t believe in any gods! That’s why the Church ruthlessly suppresses any Knights who provoke large-scale wars of unification! It’s just like a shepherd who won’t allow his sheepdogs to eat his flock! Hmph! The Lord of Radiance treats ordinary humans as sheep and Knights as sheepdogs. The will of the sheep and the sheepdogs is completely irrelevant to Him!”

“

As a transmigrator, Victor’s eyes reddened with fury at the thought of humanity being enslaved.

“

“My lord, your speculation is completely baseless. I believe you’ve been watching too much television,” the King said in Victor’s consciousness.

“

“…” Splashed with cold water by the King, Victor was momentarily embarrassed.

“

“My lord, we know very little about the Laws of this world, and we have no idea what function human faith serves. However, based on the history Edwen told you, we can be certain that the Lord of Radiance does not care about faith.”

“

“The first piece of evidence is the population issue. If humans are sheep and faith is wool, then the shepherd would naturally spare no effort to increase the size of the flock. So, my lord, when do you think the human population was at its largest?” the King asked Victor.

“

“It was eight thousand years ago, during the Era of the Chosen, before the Blood Sacrifice appeared. I understand,” Victor replied after a moment of thought.

“

The Era of the Chosen was humanity’s most prosperous period. Their territory was more than double its current size, so the population was naturally at its peak.

“

“If the Lord of Radiance needed to harvest faith, that period would have been the time of maximum profit, and His power was more than sufficient to establish a church. Yet He did not do so,” the King transmitted to Victor.

“

“But, according to the Church’s account, it was the prayers of the dying that awakened the Lord of Radiance. Before that, He was slumbering, so He couldn’t have established a church. But after waking up, you’d think He’d want some breakfast or something…” Victor argued, unwilling to abandon his conclusion.

“

“My lord, that brings us to the second piece of evidence. Arya, the founder of the Spire, introduced the system of vassals. This struck at the very foundation of faith, yet the Church had no reaction to it.”

“

Victor was left speechless. The vassal system strengthened the connection between lords and their common subjects. This middle class, elevated from the common populace, was more reliant on their lord. The subjects, in turn, aspired to become vassals. When forced to choose between the Church and their lord, they would always choose their own master. The only ones who truly believed in the Lord of Radiance were the freemen who lacked food and shelter, and the status of freemen was fluid.

“

It was actually an extremely clever system. You’re preventing me from unifying? Preventing me from expanding? Fine. My territory is only so large, I can’t support everyone. Let them become vagrants. They don’t want to leave? Sorry, my castle is full. Let them live outside. What, there are monsters? Please join me in exterminating these monsters. Oh, and by the way, there’s a group of Ogres outside my territory, let’s take care of them too, otherwise they’ll come in and eat these freemen. After a fierce battle, the territory expanded, the freemen became subjects, and the Church’s armed forces were diminished.

“

And the Church had no reaction to a system that was so clearly undermining it?!

“

“The third piece of evidence: when the Church was at its most powerful, it did not strip the lords of their right to rule, nor did it establish a unified human empire. Instead, it adhered to the feudal system as prescribed by the Radiant Code. This is illogical.”

“

If the Church truly needed faith, then eliminating the pseudo-believing lord class and establishing a unified theocracy would have been in their best interest. But they didn’t do it, even though they had the power at the time!

“

“What on earth does the Radiant Church want? Or rather, what does the Lord of Radiance want?” Victor asked, his head aching.

“

“My lord, I must remind you that the Radiant Church is also composed of humans. It cannot be lumped together with the Lord of Radiance.”

“

“We’ve already concluded that the Lord of Radiance cannot directly intervene in this world. He and the Church are more like partners.”

“

“Just get to your conclusion,” Victor said, a little impatiently.

“

“What the Lord of Radiance truly cares about is severing the Devils’ connection to this world. On the one hand, He demands the elimination of the Awakened; on the other, He is preventing large-scale Blood Sacrifices among humans.”

“

“My lord, consider this: wars that cause massive civilian casualties share a key characteristic with Blood Sacrifices. The dying humans all generate intense negative emotions like hatred, fear, and pain. I believe this could be a boon to the Devils.”

“

“And all of the Church’s seemingly irrational actions point to one crucial element: the Radiant Code. All their actions are in adherence to the Radiant Code. And this has not changed for thousands of years.”

“

“My lord, have you noticed? Knights cannot Awaken, yet they can gain the power of divine arts and become Paladins. And when a Gold Knight becomes a Paladin, he immediately possesses the power of the legendary realm. Therefore, divine arts are the true foundation of the Church.”

“

“I suspect that if a member of the clergy violates the Radiant Code, they will lose the ability to perform divine arts. The Lord of Radiance doesn’t need the power of faith, but the Church might. Yet they absolutely cannot violate the Radiant Code, or else no amount of faith would be meaningful.”

“

“Wait, the Radiant Code was created by Pope Inoc I. Why would he restrain his own successors?” Victor asked quickly.

“

“My lord, you seem to harbor a deep hostility towards the Radiant Church. May I ask why?” the King inquired.

“

“I don’t like having a supernatural being looming over my head. I always feel like the Radiant Church is plotting something,” Victor answered candidly. He had no need to hide anything from the King.

“

“My lord, this prejudice will cause you to make errors in judgment. From what Pope Inoc I did, he was indeed a great and wise man.”

“

Victor was speechless. It was true. Why couldn’t Inoc be a noble person? Everything he had done seemed to suggest just that.

“

“My guess is that this is how it happened: Inoc cooperated with the Lord of Radiance. After eliminating the group of Awakened, they made a pact. The Church would be responsible for eliminating Wizards and preventing the mass slaughter of humans. In return, the Lord of Radiance would grant the Church the ability to harvest faith and use divine arts. And Inoc, to prevent the Church or the Knight class from degenerating into tyrants like the Wizards, created the Radiant Code and had the Lord of Radiance act as its witness.”

“

“As for the Lord of Radiance, I believe He acts more like a Law-based being, or perhaps like a program. He doesn’t distinguish between a person’s good and evil. Therefore, Inoc needed the Radiant Code to restrain those who came after him.”

“

“If the Knight class becomes corrupt, the Church will crusade against them. If the clergy violates the Code, their powers will be stripped. That makes sense. It seems I’ve misunderstood the Church. They truly are noble,” Victor said with a sigh.

“

“My lord, the Church’s nobility is meaningless. The Radiant Code has shackled the development of the human world. The Church now stands in opposition to the noble class, and this conflict will lead to changes within the Church itself.”

“

“That’s true. Edwen’s subsequent account confirms this. But why did you think a war between the nobles and the Church wouldn’t break out?” Victor asked in surprise.

“

“As long as the Church recognizes the nobles’ right to rule, it won’t lead to war. What’s more, the Church’s Paladins are more powerful than ordinary Knights, and the Paladins themselves come from the Knight class!”

Chapter 57: History (Part 2)

“

In Radiant Year 2704, driven by the vassalage system, humanity’s first empire—the Uthain Empire—was founded. It was the most powerful secular force of its time.

“

However, another characteristic of the vassalage system soon revealed itself: the necessity of constant expansion. This was because the core of the system was to draw more people into one’s own camp to share in the common benefits.

“

The lords, supported by their vassals, gathered more power and gained greater authority. In turn, the number of people sharing in the benefits grew, and it continued to grow.

“

The people of the Uthain Empire worked with immense enthusiasm to obtain the status of vassals. Two hundred years later, the Uthain Empire reached the zenith of its power. The vassals’ calls for external expansion grew louder, and Uthain III decided to expand, aiming to unify the human world.

“

After the war began, Uthain III was shocked to find that things were not proceeding as smoothly as he had imagined. The Church’s noose was still tightening around the necks of the lords.

“

The Uthain Empire was indeed powerful, capable of mobilizing an army of fifty thousand, a force no kingdom could resist. However, any battle involving more than ten thousand people would provoke a backlash from the Church.

“

It was like a strong man fighting with his hands and feet bound; no matter how much strength he had, he couldn’t use it. What should have been a crushing victory descended into a grueling war of attrition. The other kingdoms, aware of the Church’s limits, fully exploited this rule. They formed alliances, supported each other, and staunchly resisted the empire’s annexation—for they, too, had vassals.

“

The war dragged on for over forty years with little progress for the Uthain Empire. Meanwhile, the internal conflicts of the other kingdoms were greatly alleviated. But the empire’s sheer size became a liability; it could not sustain the prolonged conflict. The vassals, having received no dividends from the war, began to express their dissatisfaction with the Emperor.

“

The Uthain Empire had no choice but to begin developing the wilderness.

“

With the Church’s support, the empire made good progress, but it also exhausted a huge amount of its national strength. And its neighbors, taking advantage of the empire’s weakness, began to invade its territory. The root cause, once again, was the vassalage system.

“

After several hundred years of this back-and-forth, the Uthain Empire finally collapsed, and a new empire rose from its ashes.

“

From then on, the human nobles began a cyclical game of power where one would rise as another fell, yet no empire ever lasted for more than one thousand five hundred years.

“

The tragedy of the Uthain Empire resonated with all the lords. They grew increasingly dissatisfied with the Church’s dominance and used various means to pressure it, requesting an expansion of the scale of warfare. But the Church remained unmoved. They declared that the Radiant Code was sacred and inviolable, and if the lords dared to defy it, the Church would revoke their right to rule. The Church also demanded that the lords focus their efforts on developing the wilderness, even offering unconditional support, but was met with unanimous scorn from the lords.

“

Out of resentment for the Church, the lords began to relax their persecution of Wizards, hoping to cause some trouble for the Church. Compounded by the vassalage system, which had greatly weakened the Church’s influence over the common people, Wizards began to re-emerge in the human world, establishing numerous Wizard organizations.

“

The appearance of Wizard organizations indeed created significant trouble for the Church. Although the Church was immensely powerful by this time, the lords’ lack of cooperation meant the Wizards could never be fully eradicated, and their activities only intensified.

“

The Church’s control over the commoners had weakened. Furthermore, the Awakened were children of commoners and were often sheltered by friends and family, causing the Church immense headaches in dealing with these rat-like Wizard organizations. To counter this, the Church established the Inquisition.

“

To eliminate the Wizard organizations, the Inquisition used brutal methods to suppress the ordinary people who sheltered Wizards. Most of these people were the Wizards’ relatives, which only fueled the Wizards’ hatred for the Church.

“

Driven by the pressure to survive and by hatred, the Wizard organizations began to merge. In Radiant Year 5014, the Wizard organization known as the Pantheon was born.

“

This radical group of Wizards, filled with hatred for the Church, constantly assassinated its clergy. Their attacks on members of the Inquisition were particularly vicious.

“

In the face of the Pantheon’s activities, the lords chose to stand by and watch. Despite repeated warnings from the Radiant Church, they only made a show of compliance.

“

The Pantheon, however, never attacked commoners or nobles. This left the Church powerless, because as long as Wizards did not attack commoners, the lords’ duty to protect their people was not triggered. According to the Radiant Code, the Church could not declare a lord derelict in their duty for being passive, and thus could not punish them for their inaction.

“

Over thousands of years, everyone had come to understand the Church’s rigidity and learned to exploit it. But those same thousands of years had also made people forget how terrifying Wizards could be.

“

And so, the Pantheon and the Inquisition were locked in a tangled struggle for several hundred years, until the birth of the Blair siblings.

“

In Radiant Year 5423, the Inquisition received a report: a pair of twins with awakened Wizard talents—a sister named Blair and a brother named Brian—had been discovered in a village.

“

When the Inquisition’s Sacred Warriors arrived at the village, they found the siblings gone. They had clearly been hidden by the villagers. The Sacred Warriors had seen this sort of thing many times before, and the solution was simple. They gathered the villagers, killed the children’s parents in front of everyone, and then their grandparents. They systematically killed all the children’s relatives, then began killing other villagers. The villagers finally broke and surrendered the siblings.

“

As the Sacred Warriors were taking the Blair siblings back, members of the Pantheon ambushed them and rescued the two children. Although the Church organized a force to pursue them, they found nothing. In the end, they could only helplessly record the incident in the Inquisition’s archives. Such events were quite common at the time.

“

They had no idea that, just over two decades later, this pair of siblings would bring a great catastrophe upon the Church and change the landscape of the entire human world.

“

More than a decade later, the Blair siblings became active in the Pantheon’s operations, displaying immense power. The sister, Blair, was skilled in manipulating various elements. In battles against the clergy, she was invincible and unstoppable. A single glance could ignite a Sacred Warrior, burning him to ash. Meanwhile, Brian would simply stand quietly by her side, like a mere spectator.

“

The powerful Blair was chosen by the Wizards to be the leader of the Pantheon. Under her leadership, the Pantheon crushed the Church’s encirclements time and again and retaliated just as many times. Eventually, the Pantheon breached one of the Radiant Church’s great cathedrals and killed a Cardinal, causing the collapse of an entire diocese. From then on, Blair was known as an Archwizard.

“

The Pope was furious; the lords were secretly delighted.

“

Under the Pope’s command, the Inquisition mobilized its full force and issued a challenge to the Pantheon. They knew Blair would accept, for the enemies of her and her brother were among them, and she now possessed the power to face them head-on.

“

The Blair siblings arrived. Just the two of them, facing more than three hundred elite Sacred Warriors, over twenty Paladins, a Cardinal, and the Inquisitor-General, the legendary paladin Bethel.

“

In that battle, Bethel manifested Angel’s Wings formed from the convergence of wind elements and holy light. Blessed by the Cardinal, his body flashed with runes and was wreathed in holy fire. The legendary paladin’s wind element domain unfolded, churning the void elements into a turbulent flow. As he charged at Blair, he was as dazzlingly brilliant as a falling star.

“

But Blair extended a slender, pale finger and tapped his Mithril longsword, turning Bethel into an ice sculpture. The legendary paladin Bethel had fallen.

“

Afterward, the clergy launched suicidal attacks against the Wizard, only to be met with a merciless slaughter. The entire Inquisition was annihilated.

“

The Pope was shocked. The lords were shocked.

“

This time, the Wizards once again showed the world the meaning of extraordinary power, and the lords’ attitude quietly did a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn.

“

The lords knew full well that no family, not even the imperial household, could stand against Blair. While the Church was also unmatched, it had shackled the lords, but in doing so, had also shackled itself. But Wizards… they were unrestrained!

“

Finally, with the cooperation of the lords, the Church spent several years luring the Pantheon into a dead-end valley. There, the Pope arrived in person, accompanied by the Pontiff (the head of the bishops), six Archbishops, twenty-seven legendary paladins, and the five-thousand-strong Radiant Knights. Such a force was enough to sweep across the secular world.

“

The outcome of the battle was never in doubt, yet the price paid was unbelievable.

“

As the members of the Pantheon fell in battle one by one, Brian finally revealed the true nature of his power!

“

During the fight, Brian stayed close to his sister’s side, as silent as ever. But the clergy discovered that any divine art that entered his vicinity was nullified, and even the elemental power of Knights was no exception. Yet within his domain, Blair could transcend the limits of the Principles, achieving a level of spellcasting from the age of Wizards.

“

And so, the Radiant Knights unleashed a torrential volley of arrows at Brian. Despite Blair’s desperate attempts to intercept them, Brian took a step forward and calmly met his death.

“

On the verge of death, Brian transformed into a phantom before everyone’s eyes and merged into Blair’s body. The witch’s power then soared. The world’s Principles seemed to have no effect on her at all. She was the mistress of earth, fire, wind, and water, unleashing power on the level of a natural disaster.

“

Rain of fire carried magma, hurricanes carried ice spikes, the earth cracked open, and lightning fell like rain. In an instant, the Church suffered heavy casualties.

“

The Pope, at the cost of his own life, sounded the golden horn. Six Radiant Angels descended from the heavens and fought fiercely with the witch for half a day. In the end, Blair was Purified.

“

This battle cost the Radiant Church its main forces, leaving it severely weakened. The lords, in turn, grew restless.

“

In the subsequent one thousand five hundred years, two major events occurred that led to a dramatic transformation within the Church.

“

Seven hundred years ago, Emperor Randt V, taking advantage of the chaotic infighting among the northern lords, subjugated the nomads and expanded his territory to the northern plains, intending to seize the northern lands.

“

He mobilized fifty thousand freemen to build a great fortress in a strategic location. In the process, more than seven thousand people died. The Church intervened again, executing the Randt Emperor on charges of slaughtering freemen!

“

This incident sent shockwaves through the human world because it was inconsistent with the Church’s usual practices.

“

First, the lords had long since tested the limits and knew that a battle with more than ten thousand deaths would provoke the Church’s intervention. Emperor Randt had not crossed this line. The deaths of the freemen had not occurred all at once, nor were they the result of war. It was illogical!

“

Second, Emperor Randt V was executed on the spot, not captured and then publicly executed. This was also illogical!

“

It was this peculiar incident that led to the decline of the Randt Empire, sparking the outrage of all the lords. Amidst the swirling undercurrents, the Spire Faction officially emerged, and lords flocked to join this loose alliance aimed at mutual protection.

“

Three hundred years ago, a scandal occurred in the Papal State of Eyer. The lords of the Spire Faction seized the opportunity and sent troops to Eyer. In the end, the Radiant Pope announced he would no longer interfere in the specific affairs of the Church. The Papal State of Eyer declared its separation from the Church’s jurisdiction and joined the then-faltering Randt Empire.

“

The Church, represented by the Pontiff, the Inquisitor-General, and the Council of Elders, signed the New Covenant of Light with the lords. The new covenant was based on the Radiant Code, with an added stipulation: the Church would no longer execute lords who violated the Radiant Code, but would imprison them instead.

“

In return, the human lords swore an oath in the Great Radiant Cathedral to never again reveal the scandal, nor to record or discuss it in any form.

“

——————————

“

“King, continue the analysis,” Victor instructed the Tower Spirit after his recollection ended.

“

“My lord, this history reveals one thing: the Church has indeed undergone internal changes.”

“

“Of course. The Pope has withdrawn from the center of power to become a spiritual leader, while the Church is now jointly managed by the Pontiff, the monasteries, and the Inquisition. Heh heh, I’d really love to know what that scandal was. To think it could force the Pope to step down. Too bad Edwen said he didn’t know either. Hmph! I bet it was some kind of salacious story,” Victor gossiped.

“

“My lord, given the attitude of this world’s nobles towards procreation, there is almost zero chance the scandal had anything to do with a woman.”

“

Hearing King’s words, Victor flushed with embarrassment. He was reminded of that absurd, titillating night banquet with Sylvia.

“

The nobles of this world, for the sake of their precious bloodlines, have truly abandoned all integrity! Hell, I might have even been cuckolded myself…

“

Victor thought of his wife in name only, the stunning Marchioness Sophia, and felt a surprising pang of sourness.

“

Nicole wouldn’t cheat on me too, would she?! The thought made Victor restless. It was as if Nicole were his real wife, and Sophia just a stranger.

“

“My lord, a scandal could not force a Pope to step down. Only power can do that,” King continued, ignoring Victor’s dark expression.

“

“I suspect the Knight class has already taken control of the Church.”

“

“What? What did you say?!” Victor, no longer dwelling on his personal worries, asked in shock.

“

“My lord, the foundation of the Church is divine arts, and its clergy are actually divided into two factions: ordinary members and Paladins. And Paladins are, at their core, still Knights.”

“

“The turning point was the final battle between the Church and the Pantheon. That battle severely weakened the Church—to be precise, it severely weakened the ordinary clergy, while the Paladins likely suffered minimal losses.”

“

“Why do you say that?” Victor asked.

“

“My lord, in your Apocalypse state, you can move at over twenty-five meters per second. Coupled with your enhanced Perception and the precise control of the X-3, your chances of survival in the face of a cataclysm are far greater than an ordinary person’s. So, what about a Knight, whose power and spirit are highly unified? A Silver-rank Knight? A legendary realm Paladin?”

“

“I see your point. The survival rate of legendary paladins in the face of wide-area attacks is far higher than that of ordinary clergy. So they survived, while the ordinary clergy suffered heavy casualties. Most importantly, the Pope died, leaving a huge power vacuum. Therefore, the Paladin class seized more power within the Church,” Victor said, nodding.

“

“The key isn’t that the Pope died, but that the Papacy grew weaker. He could only summon six of the twelve Radiant Angels, and at the cost of his own life. The Paladins saw this. It’s possible the golden horn has already fallen into the hands of the Paladins,” King added.

“

The Pope’s authority is passed down through generations, wielding the golden horn as the leader of the Church. But he represents the ordinary clergy. The ordinary clergy and the Paladins have always been at odds due to the great disparity in their power. Knights are far stronger than ordinary people, and this holds true even within the Church. They had been suppressed by the Pope for thousands of years, so of course they would seize the opportunity to take power.

“

“No wonder. The Church’s subsequent actions reek of the noble style, full of conspiracy. The Randt Emperor was probably assassinated,” Victor said coldly. A rigid, inflexible Church better served the interests of the lords; no one liked a Church that played games and plotted.

“

“Paladins are, after all, Knights. They cannot escape the desire for the knight’s bloodline. Marrying into other families allowed them to form a new faction: the Church Knight Faction,” King continued.

“

“The death of the Randt Emperor must have served this faction’s interests. They were also testing the rules of the Radiant Code, which perfectly aligned with the needs of the lords. It must have been the lords of the Church Knight Faction who orchestrated this. That’s why the Spire Faction was formed—not to oppose the Church, but to counter the Church Knight Faction.” Victor instantly understood many things.

“

“The only thing I don’t understand is, why would the Spire Faction join forces with the Church Knight Faction to force the Pope’s abdication? That doesn’t align with the Spire Faction’s interests.”

“

“My lord, why couldn’t it have been the Spire Faction and the Pope joining forces against the Church Knight Faction? They simply failed. The Pope’s abdication and the signing of the New Covenant of Light both point to this. The Paladin faction was the only winner,” said King.

“

“The New Covenant of Light? How so?” A thought struck Victor, but he couldn’t quite grasp the key point, so he simply asked.

“

“The Church Knight Faction’s plot against the Randt Emperor likely had two objectives. First, for political gain. Second, to test the rules of the Radiant Code.”

“

“It is a fact that the Randt Emperor was killed, but I doubt it was Paladins who did the deed. When they tested the Code’s rules, they suffered a backlash. The clergy who carried out the mission all lost their powers. The ones who actually committed the murder were likely secular knights disguised as Paladins.”

“

“Two points support my deduction. First, they didn’t escort the Randt Emperor back to the Holy See, but executed him on the spot. This wouldn’t have happened if the clergy hadn’t suffered a backlash.”

“

“Second, the New Covenant of Light stipulates that lords who violate the Radiant Code will no longer be executed, but imprisoned instead. On the surface, this benefits the lords, but it actually expands the Church’s law enforcement power, which is very disadvantageous for the lords.”

“

“Fuck!” Victor cursed, his face ashen.

“

Hearing this, he now understood completely.

“

The Church Knight Faction seized control of the Church. They wanted to use the Church’s power to gain greater political advantage, so they needed to test the rules of the Radiant Code, with the Randt Emperor as their target. But the Emperor, after all, had not violated the bottom line of the Radiant Code, so the Church Knight Faction suffered a backlash. This led to the formation of the Spire Faction. Subsequently, the Spire Faction attempted to help the Pope restore order but failed, and was forced to sign the New Covenant of Light. The New Covenant gave the Church Knight Faction law enforcement authority, meaning that if they needed to deal with a lord, they could imprison them on the charge of killing freemen. Since they weren’t killing the lord, their powers wouldn’t be revoked. This in itself was proof that they had suffered a backlash during their first test, which is why they came up with this move.

“

“Why hasn’t the Church Knight Faction unified the human world?” Victor asked, confused.

“

The Church Knight Faction was now the police and the judge, holding all the advantages, yet three hundred years had passed without any major moves.

“

“I believe the Spire Faction has already allied with the ordinary clergy within the Church. After all, the ordinary clergy are more numerous, and the Spire Faction is not without its own countermeasures.”

“

“What countermeasures?” Victor asked immediately. This was directly relevant to him.

“

“All-out war!” King said.

“

Victor had a sudden realization. Yes, if the Church Knight Faction dared to use the Church’s power to unify the human world, the lords of the Spire Faction would escalate the scale of warfare without limit, until the Lord of Radiance grew angry and revoked his divine arts, or until the Wizards returned to the world. At worst, everyone would be destroyed together!

“

“It seems the situation will remain stable for now. Even the Paladins can’t bypass the restrictions of the Radiant Code.” Victor breathed a sigh of relief. He was just a small fry right now; he couldn’t afford to be caught up in such turmoil.

“

“My lord, the unification of the human world serves the interests of the lords, and now it also aligns with the will of the Church. Unification is inevitable. The fact that the Spire Faction lords were willing to sign the New Covenant of Light shows they are no longer willing to fight the Church Knights to the death. The faction is being maintained only as a way to negotiate better terms and secure more benefits. But you must be aware that once the great lords within the Spire Faction get what they want, they will leave the faction. To them, the Spire Faction is merely a bargaining chip. My lord, you must prepare early.”

“

The New Covenant of Light’s stipulation against executing lords essentially set the bottom line for the conflict between the two factions. They could fight, they could negotiate, they could form alliances, they could marry, they could even let their children take your family name—just no fighting to the death, or everyone would perish together.

“

“You’re right. But my territory is remote. Even if those great lords beat each other’s brains out, the fighting won’t reach here. We have time to develop our own strength. For now, we have two strategies: one, make more money, and two, don’t become cannon fodder,” Victor replied with a smile.

“

It was always pleasant to sit on a mountain and watch the tigers fight. Victor had no ambition to unify the world; he was more interested in living his own comfortable life.

“

“By the way, King, what would happen if the Radiant Code collapsed? Would it be the end of the world?” Victor asked, a little worried.

“

The Knight class had no real faith in the Lord of Radiance to speak of. They had barely taken control of the Church before they started testing the rules of the Radiant Code. They might really end up breaking it. In comparison, the popes and their lineage were endearingly blunt.

“

“My lord, the Radiant Code will not collapse. It is, in reality, a shackle placed upon his successors by the first Pope, intended to limit the clergy’s abuse of divine arts. The Radiant Code itself does not generate power. The source of divine arts is the contract made between the first Pope and the Lord of Radiance. I believe the power of the clergy will only completely collapse when the Devils re-establish contact with this world. And at that time, the Lord of Radiance will also be roused.”

“

“But even so, it would not be the end of the world,” King added.

“

“Why are you so certain? The Lord of Radiance is a mighty being who changed the world’s Principles. How could we possibly stand against the Devils, His adversaries?” Victor asked anxiously.

“

“My lord, you overestimate the power of these extraordinary beings, and you underestimate the power of humanity. I have never believed that the Lord of Radiance changed the world’s Principles. If He truly had, then why can the Alchemy Tower, which is clearly a product of extraordinary power, still be used?”

“

“Even so, what makes you think humans possess greater power?” Victor asked again.

“

“Neither the Awakened nor the Church are on the same level as the Alchemical Empire. And it was humans who created the Alchemical Empire.”

“

“You think we are descendants of the Néier Empire?”

“

“That is beyond doubt. The Alchemical humans are identical to modern humans, which proves it.”

“

“But the Néier Empire was destroyed, most likely by the Devils or the Lord of Radiance.”

“

“My lord has no further evidence to prove this, but there are signs that the Néier Empire eliminated countless powerful extraordinary beings, turned them into Alchemy Towers, and then fought against invading other races and defeated them.”

“

King’s words left Victor speechless.

“

“My lord, your perspective is limited by the humans here. This world is far larger than you can imagine. How can you be sure that the humans here are the only human population in the world? Does their history of a few thousand years represent the history of all humanity? The Néier Empire was a thousand times more powerful than the Chosen, yet it failed to explore beyond the Endless Forest, north of the Terrel Mountains, or south of the Goldwater River. And in the end, it too vanished into the long river of history. Compared to such a vast world, extraordinary beings are not that powerful.”

“

King’s words were like a sudden illumination for Victor. Yes, perhaps it was because the Alchemical Empire encountered other races while exploring the world, and in their desperation, turned Devils into Alchemy Towers to defeat them. That would explain why the Devils want to exterminate the descendants of the Alchemical Empire. And they can’t even directly interfere with humanity, only resort to deception. And could the Lord of Radiance be an alchemical lifeform created by the Alchemical Empire? Is that why He exhibits the characteristics of a being of Law?

“

At this thought, Victor felt the gloom lift, replaced by a feeling of… the world is so big, I want to go and see it.

“

“After all that talk, I realize it’s all just boring stuff. Alchemical militia are much more practical,” Victor said with a wry smile.

“

“King, begin creating the Alchemical militia. This time, load them with Short Weapon Proficiency, Ranged Weapon Mastery, and Spirit Monkey Mystic Form,” Victor ordered. Whether it was extraordinary beings or the power struggles between the Church and the great nobles, it was all too distant from him. Survival was what mattered.

“

“Yes, my lord.” King faithfully carried out his duty.

“

“My lord, the Alchemical militia has mutated!”

“

“What?”

“

Chapter 58: The Sinner

Although Black Fortress Town is the auxiliary town to Black Fortress, it covers an area of about twenty-five square kilometers, roughly the size of a city.

The high walls around the town are complete, but two gaps have been left open where two small fortresses will be built. This shows the York family’s determination to build a city here.

The roads within the town are wide, lined with neat houses and shops. These are all properties of the York family, either for sale or for rent, bringing in a considerable income each year. Most of the people living in Black Fortress Town are vassals of the York family, belonging to the propertied class. Of course, there are also many vassals from other families who open shops here, selling various local products for their families and themselves, and purchasing all sorts of necessary supplies. Now, all the lords of the Pioneer Fiefs acknowledge Black Fortress Town as the economic and political center of the western pioneer region.

Besides vassals, the most numerous people in Black Fortress Town are subjects and freemen.

That’s right, freemen. Compared to farming and hunting in the wild, freemen prefer to make a living in the towns because it’s much safer here. There’s also help from the Church, and most importantly, there are more opportunities.

The lords welcome these freemen who do not encroach on their lands. As long as they abide by the lord’s rules, the town’s administrators can also offer some protection. After all, a town needs a large enough population.

Freemen perform menial jobs in the town to support their families, such as building walls and houses, constructing canals and clearing sewers, cleaning streets, transporting goods, working as clerks in shops, or being hired by vassals to grow vegetables and raise pigs outside the city. If they have a skill, they can live even better—for example, as tailors, grooms, masons, blacksmiths, gardeners, and so on. If they do well, they might even be able to acquire some property. If your craftsmanship is truly outstanding, My Lord won’t be stingy about granting the status of a subject. This provides even more security in the town. After three generations, the lord will bestow land, allowing them to climb to a higher social class.

This is the reality. Vassals, subjects, and freemen have never been the lord’s slaves. As long as they pay their tribute and perform their service on time, they can still live a decent life through hard work. In fact, there are no slaves in this world. Without large-scale wars, where would slaves come from? And how could slaves provide faith?

Therefore, the towns of great lords all have a noble’s district, a vassal’s district, a poor district, and a shantytown. As long as they abide by the town’s laws, can support themselves, and pay taxes on time, freemen can live perfectly well in the town. And these populous towns also bring great profits to the lord.

Every such town inevitably has a Radiant Church cathedral, and Black Fortress Town is no exception. In fact, there are two churches in Black Fortress Town. One stands in the center of the town, solemn and magnificent, the most eye-catching building within the town. The other is built near the east gate, sturdy and simple. It is also the most prominent building in its area, for this is the poor district, and outside the gate lies a large shantytown, which is where the freemen live.

Compared to the deserted central church, this one was much more popular. The morning service had just ended, and the Church’s faithful were leaving one after another to begin their busy day. Before they left, they didn’t forget to respectfully greet Ivan, who was standing at the entrance.

After the last parishioner had left, Ivan closed the main doors and stretched, a series of cracks popping from his joints. Presiding over the hour-long morning service had left even his strong body a little stiff.

Ivan walked outside the church doors and gazed at the magnificent church in the town center, his eyes filled with envy and longing.

When will I be able to preside over that central church? he wondered to himself.

“What are you doing?”

Outside the church, the sharp question from a Sacred Warrior guard caught Ivan’s attention. He saw a timid-looking man peering at the entrance.

“Is there something you need?” Ivan waved his hand, signaling the Sacred Warrior to let the man approach, and asked him kindly.

“Father, I… I want to make a prayer of atonement.” The man came forward and said fearfully.

Hearing this, Ivan’s eyes lit up, and he looked the man up and down.

He looked to be about thirty years old, sturdily built, but his face was pale and his expression terrified. His linen tunic was covered in mud and faint bloodstains.

“Come with me.” Ivan gave the Sacred Warrior a look and led the man into the church.

Ivan led the man through the church’s prayer hall and into a secluded prayer room.

The prayer room was not large, but in the middle stood an altar made of white glazed stone. A few rare white crystals were embedded in the altar, forming a perfect circle.

Ivan stood still, saying nothing, just watching the man coldly.

The man seemed to understand, took out a handful of Copper Sols, and respectfully offered them.

Ivan took the bloodstained Copper Sols, weighed them in his hand, and said with a frown, “This isn’t enough. But, seeing as you are devout, I will preside over one prayer of atonement for you. Go and kneel.”

With that, Ivan stepped up to the altar, placed his large-knuckled hand on the white crystals, and silently chanted a prayer. Soon, a white radiance emerged from his hand. Then, the white crystals lit up one by one, their light converging to form a pure pillar of light on the altar.

This was what the Church proclaimed to be the image of the Lord of Radiance: formless, colorless, pure light.

“Whatever I ask, you will answer. You must not hide anything,” Father Ivan instructed the agitated man. He then stepped into an adjacent cubicle, leaving the man to kneel alone before the altar.

“What is your name?”

It was still Father Ivan’s voice, but to the man, it now sounded sacred and majestic, filling him with awe.

“My name is Barry.”

“What is your sin?”

“I… I killed people.”

“Why did you kill them?”

“It… It was Chief Hook’s orders. I’m one of his men.”

“Tell me everything, in detail.”

“My name is Barry. I was a farmer from the Eastern Province. After our lord was defeated in battle, my family and I fled here. At first, a few other guys from my village and I worked for Lord Landon, earning a living by building the city walls. Later, the work dried up, and we heard that Lord Landon, who had given us work, was killed by Lord Barol. So we went to work for one of Lord Barol’s underlings, Chief Hook.”

“Chief Hook controlled two streets here, so we started collecting protection money for him. A month ago, Chief Hook killed a chief from the west side, and now that territory belongs to him too.”

“The protection fees in the new territory were the same as before: ten Copper Sols a month for each household, and thirty Copper Sols for shops. But Chief Hook took a liking to two businesses in the new territory, a general store and an inn, both run by a few old cripples.”

“Later, we found out that these old cripples had no backing and were also freemen. Chief Hook approached them and offered to buy their shops for ten Silver Sols. They refused, so Chief Hook raised their protection fee to fifteen Silver Sols a month. The old geezers refused to pay, and they even stopped paying the forty Copper Sols protection fee.”

“So Chief Hook sent a few of us to teach those old guys a lesson. We never expected those old cripples to be so tough. They beat us all up and threw us out. The other guys had lots of bones broken, and I was the only one left. The innkeeper, the one called Old John, even told me to tell Chief Hook that if he sent anyone else to cause trouble, he’d break all their legs, and that Chief Hook should calculate the medical bills himself.”

“I dragged my buddies back to Chief Hook in a handcart. After he heard what happened, he told me to take them outside the town and dispose of them. He said if I didn’t do it, he’d dispose of me too! He also said that only those with blood on their hands could be considered one of his own. He told me that Lord Barol values him precisely because he dares to fight and kill, and if I wanted to get ahead, I had to listen to him.”

“I had no choice. I dragged Witt and the others outside the town, found a pit, and smashed their heads in.”

“Witt and the others begged me to spare them, but I couldn’t. I have a wife and kids to support. I couldn’t die!”

“After I killed them, I took the money from their bodies. I felt so uneasy, so I came here to pray for atonement, to beg the merciful Lord to redeem my soul.”

Barry muttered, his eyes fixed hopefully on the pure light, as if it held everything he longed for.

“Sinner! Your sins will cast your soul into the abyss! You will suffer the eternal flames of hell, with no escape!”

The Father’s voice was like rolling thunder, jolting Barry from his haze. He wailed, “Merciful Lord, please save me! I didn’t want to do this! I had no choice, I was forced.”

“The Lord is merciful. The Lord redeems the souls of the devout. Barry, are you devout?”

When Barry’s sobbing subsided a little, the Father’s majestic voice echoed in the prayer room. It was as if Barry had seen a glimmer of hope in the darkness. He cried out, “I am devout! I am a faithful believer in the Lord! I am devout! I beg the almighty Lord to save my soul, to pardon my sins, and not let my soul fall into the abyss.”

“Pray, sinner. Pray to the Radiance with your utmost piety. Let the merciful Lord see your true heart. The Lord will surely save your soul and show you the way.”

Like a drowning man grasping a piece of driftwood, Barry straightened his kneeling posture and began to loudly recite the all-too-familiar prayers.

In the cubicle, Father Ivan watched a blood-red crystal in his hand. As Barry’s prayers grew louder and more fervent, the crystal’s color began to fade until it became completely transparent.

“Hmm, a devout one indeed.”

Ivan nodded in satisfaction, tucked the crystal into his sleeve, and with a flash of light from his hand, the pillar of light on the altar suddenly brightened many times over, illuminating the prayer room as if it were day.

Barry bathed in the brilliance, the warm holy light washing over his body. He felt as if all sin and suffering had been purged from his soul; even the pain in his body had eased significantly. It was like being reborn. The sensation was intoxicating, and he only came to his senses when the light gradually faded.

“Barry, the Lord has redeemed your soul,” Ivan said, stepping out from the cubicle.

“Thank you, Father, thank you,” Barry said, bowing repeatedly to the priest in gratitude.

“As a faithful servant of the Lord of Radiance, I will not reveal the contents of your prayer of atonement. But from now on, you must follow the Lord’s teachings. Be patient, do good deeds, and stay away from sin. Do you understand?”

“I will, I certainly will.” Barry took out a dozen more bloodstained Copper Sols, handed them to the priest, and then backed away, step-by-step, until he was gone.

When Barry was out of sight, Ivan stuffed the Copper Sols into his own pouch and muttered under his breath.

“What a devout sinner.”

Chapter 59: The Man-Eater

The ground in the slums was always a soggy mess. It was covered in sewage and feces, emitting a constant, foul stench. A noble lady would surely faint if she ever came here; only those who had long lived here had grown numb to it.

Barry trudged home, his feet sinking into the muck. He hadn’t been home in a day and a night.

Barry’s home wasn’t far from the Church. They had moved here after he started following Chief Hook, as it was closer to town. As for the hovel’s previous owners, they had already been driven away.

On the way, Barry bought a few loaves of black bread and a roasted chicken. He still had some Copper Sols in his pocket. The protection money they’d collected this time was still on them; Chief Hook hadn’t taken it yet.

“Dammit!”

Barry stepped in a pile of excrement. He disgustedly scraped the sole of his shoe on the ground. It definitely wasn’t dog droppings; there weren’t even any chickens in the slums.

“No, I beg you, this is the ration the Church gave my family.”

A commotion caught Barry’s attention. An old woman was struggling with two men, one of whom was yanking away half a loaf of black bread.

“Barry! Help me, I have children at home,” the old woman cried out to him when she saw him.

Barry turned to leave. He didn’t want to get involved in other people’s business. He knew this old woman; her shack was a bit closer to the Church, but she probably wouldn’t be able to hold onto it for much longer. Her strong son hadn’t been back in five days.

“Merciful Lord! Please help me.” The bread was snatched away, and the old woman could only sit on the muddy ground and weep bitterly.

Barry stopped. The feeling of being bathed in holy light hadn’t seemed to fade yet, and he felt he had to do something.

“Stop! Give her back the bread and get lost!” Barry blocked the two men’s path, staring them dead in the eyes.

“Kid, mind your own business!” one of the men said viciously. Though Barry looked quite strong, there were two of them.

“I’m with Chief Hook. If you don’t want to die, drop the bread and get lost!” Barry’s voice was as cold as ice.

I’ve killed a man! I’ve seen blood! I don’t need to be afraid of them, they should be afraid of me. Barry psyched himself up as he faced two opponents of roughly his own size.

The two men backed down, perhaps because it wasn’t worth fighting Barry over a piece of bread, perhaps because of the bloodshot look in Barry’s eyes, or perhaps because of Chief Hook’s reputation.

Ignoring the old woman’s profuse thanks, Barry walked straight home. The looks of awe from the people around him made him feel different.

“Dad!”

As soon as he entered the shack, a small boy of about ten threw himself into his arms. This was Barry’s eldest son, now his only child.

“Evan, my little man, have you been protecting your mother at home?” Barry swept the little boy up and asked with a smile.

“No one dares to bully us now. Everyone knows Dad is with Chief Hook,” the little boy said proudly.

“You’ve been out a whole day, why are you only just back? You… you bought roasted chicken?” A woman came over and took the bag from Barry’s hand. The fragrant smell of the roasted chicken inside made her swallow hard.

“Roasted chicken! I want some!” The little one wriggled out of Barry’s arms and lunged for the bag in his mother’s hands.

“Where did you get the money to buy roasted chicken?” the woman asked her husband, tearing off a chicken wing and giving it to her cheering son before quickly tying the bag shut.

“Did a good job for Chief Hook. The Chief rewarded me,” Barry said in a gruff voice.

“Mom, I want more!” One chicken wing was clearly not enough to satisfy the little boy.

“No, you’ve already had some. Have you forgotten what Mommy told you? What’s left after your father eats is yours,” the woman refused her son. She knew very well that only when her husband was full and strong would the family not go hungry.

“Oh.” Although Evan really wanted more, he had to listen to his mother.

“Let Evan have it. The little guy’s a growing boy. When I was his age, I could eat a whole roasted chicken like this every five days,” Barry said, unable to bear it.

“That was back when we were subjects. We’re freemen now. The whole family depends on you,” the woman shot her husband a glare, disagreeing.

“It’s fine, I have some money here. It’s a reward from Chief Hook. You keep it safe.” Barry pulled a pouch from his coat and handed it to his wife.

“So much money?! Fine, fine, go ahead and eat! Barry, what did you do? Why did Chief Hook give you so much money?” The woman handed the roasted chicken to her eagerly-waiting son, then took her husband’s money pouch with delight, though her question was laced with suspicion.

“I… I did a great job, and the Chief took a liking to me. He’s going to promote me. Sarah, trust me, I’ll definitely get you two a place in town,” Barry said resolutely. He was determined to claw his way up to Chief Hook’s position.

“Mhm, I trust you.” The woman leaned into her husband’s embrace, and the two of them silently savored a moment of warmth.

“By the way, Ina came looking for you. She wanted to ask you why Witt hasn’t come back. Do you know where Witt went?”

His wife’s words made Barry’s body stiffen. Ina was Witt’s wife. They also had a child, a four-year-old girl.

“Witt’s not back? Yesterday, he left right after we finished the job. He probably got some money, went and got completely drunk, and who knows what pigsty he’s sleeping in now,” Barry said hurriedly, seeing his wife looking up at him.

“Poor Ina, ending up with such a neglectful husband. My Barry is still the best,” Sarah said proudly, burying her head in Barry’s chest.

“Well, well, getting all cozy. Barry, there’s work to be done! Let’s go, Chief Hook is waiting for you.” A sarcastic voice came from the doorway, making the two of them quickly separate.

Barry looked up and saw Hogan, one of Chief Hook’s trusted underlings.

“I’m going to work. You two be safe at home,” Barry instructed before heading for the door.

At the entrance, Barry saw that Hogan had no intention of moving aside. Instead, he stared straight at him, seemingly trying to intimidate him with his sinister gaze.

Barry instinctively wanted to back down, but the thought that he too had now seen blood made him stare back coldly.

They locked eyes for a few seconds before Hogan broke into a strange smile, stepped back, and said in a low, mocking tone, “You’ve changed, haven’t you?”

“Hmph!” Barry brushed past Hogan’s shoulder and bumped his way out. He also felt that he had changed.

In a low-roofed house in the slum district, Barry saw his chief and a group of ferocious-looking brutes. They were all Hook’s trusted thugs.

“Barry, that job I gave you, is it done?” Seeing Barry and Hogan walk in, the lanky Chief Hook asked with a grin.

“It’s done!” Barry said stiffly.

Being stared at by these desperate men with murderous eyes made Barry’s scalp tingle. He kept telling himself, I’ve seen blood. I’m one of them now.

“Good, good. Barry, from now on, you’re one of us,” Chief Hook said with a laugh, seeing that Barry was no longer as timid as before.

“I’ve called everyone here today because a few old cripples have disrespected us. We have to teach them a lesson. Otherwise, won’t every fat sheep on that street think they can rebel?” Hook said with a strange laugh, his eyes sweeping over the room.

“Chief, it’s just a few old geezers. Do you need to call all the brothers for this? I could take care of them myself,” a bald brute with a scar on his face said disdainfully.

“Barry, what do you think?” Hook ignored the bald man’s words and instead turned to ask Barry.

Being suddenly asked by Hook gave Barry a start. He had just been secretly relieved that the Chief hadn’t asked about the protection money.

“Chief… oh, Chief, those old men are tough. One of them, a one-armed old guy, took down five of us by himself! I don’t think we should fight them head-on.” The memory of the old cripples’ indifferent eyes made a fear rise in Barry that he couldn’t suppress.

“Trash is trash. How can you survive in this business with no guts?” said a man fiddling with a dagger, his voice sinister.

“Barry is right. You might not know this, but these old cripples have more lives on their hands than you know people.”

Hook’s defense made Barry’s grim expression ease considerably.

“Chief, you must be kidding. How could a dozen old cripples have taken lives?” a thug asked, doubtful and alarmed.

“I’ve already asked Old Hal and got the full story. These men are all old mercenaries. Every one of them is bad news.”

Hook’s words silenced the room.

“What? Scared?” Seeing his men lose their nerve, Hook sneered.

“Chief, it’s not that we’re scared. A few crippled mercenaries are easy enough to handle, but when their mercenary company returns, we’ll be in big trouble. We might even lose our territory. It’s not worth it,” a man quickly tried to smooth things over. The moment they heard “mercenary,” they had truly lost their courage.

“Relax, these old geezers are displaced ghosts, cast out by their mercenary company. They’ve got no backup. Besides, for them to afford two shops, their severance pay must have been at least two hundred Gold Sols. Lord Barol said he won’t take a cut this time. All the money will be split among the brothers! This is a big score!”

“Chief, how about we gather more men? We should prepare some boiling oil, and it’d be best to get a couple of crossbows. We’ll do the job at night,” the bald brute suggested hesitantly after exchanging glances with a few others.

Making a move on a mercenary’s retirement fund was no different from pulling teeth from a Nightblade Panther’s mouth. Even a crippled Nightblade Panther was deadly. As good as Gold Sols were, you had to be alive to spend them.

“What’s there to be afraid of! Lord Barol has already spoken with the magistrate. We’ll do it like last time, just that we’ll all get a smaller share.” Seeing his men’s cowardice, Hook cursed them as useless inwardly, but his words were reassuring.

“Alright then! The Chief is truly resourceful!” a half-reclining thug shot to his feet.

“Let’s go, let’s go, time to get to work.”

“Lord Barol didn’t need to do that. We brothers could’ve handled it. Why involve the magistrate and get a smaller cut for no reason!”

Barry put on a cold expression and followed Chief Hook out. Although he was still completely confused, his heart was burning with excitement. Being part of the inner circle was different. Before, it was just shaking people down for a few more Copper Sols. Now, they were splitting Gold Sols. This truly was a big score!

——————————

Behind the counter, Old John meticulously wiped a glass. Even though there were hardly any customers in the tavern at this time, he was still very content. He liked his life now.

“One-Leg, I wonder how that Narsen kid is doing over there? Not a single word of news,” a burly old man with an iron hook for a left arm asked John after taking a swig of ale.

“Our War Bear is so strong! What could possibly happen? He’s definitely fine. It’s just a bit too far. We’ll probably have to wait another three months before someone comes,” Old John said.

“Do you think Lord Victor has dismissed us? Just left us here and forgotten all about us?” another old mercenary asked suspiciously.

“A severance package of two thousand Gold Sols? You think you’re that special?” Old John said coldly.

“I was just missing that Lilia girl a little, you know? Hey, do you think we’ll have to call her My Lady the next time we see her?” the old mercenary said sheepishly.

“I doubt it. That a female Knight from the York family, the way she looks at My lord, it’s like she wants to eat him whole,” another old man interjected.

“Not necessarily. Lord Victor is a bit of a fool. Maybe he’ll fall for Lilia,” another one-armed mercenary uncharacteristically ragged on them both.

“Get lost! How is My lord a fool?”

“Not a fool? He gave us two thousand Gold Sols? You think you’re that special?”

“Business is good, I see?” A sinister voice cut into their banter at an inopportune moment.

“Hook!” Old John’s voice was frigid.

Hook pushed the door open and walked in, followed by a dozen strange-looking characters who filed in after him.

“What? You’re open for business but won’t serve customers? We’re here to patronize Boss John’s establishment,” Hook said with a malicious grin.

“If you’re here to drink, pay first. If you’re here for trouble… What? Got too much money for medical bills and nowhere to spend it?” The old mercenary with the iron hook stood up and sneered.

“I’m a poor man. I only have enough money to buy my brothers a drink. Barry, go have a drink. It’s on me,” Hook said with a smile.

Aren’t we here for a big score? Why is he telling me to go have a drink? Barry was baffled, but he followed his chief’s orders and took a step forward.

Pfft!

The moment Barry stepped forward, a sharp pain shot through his chest. He looked down to see a gleaming dagger that had pierced through from his back, blood gushing out like a spring.

“Chief Hook, you…” Barry struggled to turn his head, looking at Hook behind him in disbelief.

“Murder! Murder! The innkeeper’s a murderer!” Hook shoved Barry to the ground and shrieked.

Barry fell face-first, his vision gradually blurring. Weren’t you taking me on a big score? Why kill me? With this deep-seated confusion, his consciousness descended into eternal darkness.

The devourer will be devoured.

Chapter 60: Mercenaries and Secret Agents

“Kill them!” Old John pulled out a dagger and threw it at Hooke without a moment’s hesitation.

Hooke watched as the sharp dagger, whistling through the air, flew towards his heart. He was scared out of his wits, and a twisted, inhuman cry escaped his lips.

A hand reached out and deftly caught the dagger in mid-air. Having escaped death, Hooke heaved a great sigh of relief. Then, he felt his entire body go limp, unable to even stand. He collapsed to the ground, and a foul-smelling liquid trickled out from between his legs. He had lost control of his bladder.

“What’s going on?”

Seeing the magistrate in plain clothes standing behind Hooke and his men, the old mercenaries cursed their luck.

“My lord! They killed our companion! Four of my pals came here for a drink yesterday. All they said was that the wine was watered down, and they were killed for it! They’re buried outside of town right now. Today we came to demand an explanation, and they killed another one of us. My lord! Look! Look! The body is still twitching, it’s still…” Hooke, sitting on the ground, pointed incoherently at Barry’s body.

The magistrate glanced with disgust at the reeking Hooke. This idiot! His story is full of holes! He would have been better off keeping his mouth shut.

“Public murder is punishable by hanging! Men, arrest them!” Without waiting for an explanation from Old John and the others, the magistrate waved his hand, and the guards hidden outside the inn immediately swarmed in.

“My lord, I’m the one who killed him! I’ll go with you!” Old John shouted decisively.

Anyone could see this was a setup. Any defense was meaningless now. It was better for one man to take the blame than for all of them to be taken down, and besides, there was still a chance of survival.

Old John discreetly gestured to one of his old pals. The old mercenary understood immediately. Old John wanted him to retrieve the family crest Victor had given them. It would prove they were vassals of a noble, and that was Old John’s path to survival.

A great lord who wished for his towns to prosper had to maintain a relatively just order. Theft, robbery, rape, and murder—these serious crimes were explicitly forbidden.

For a crime like murder in the streets, the prevailing law was to hang the murderer. But this was not absolute.

Generally, a freeman who killed another freeman would naturally be hanged. But if a noble’s vassal killed a freeman, that was a matter for discussion.

Vassals were the foundation of a lord’s rule over his domain, their interests deeply intertwined with his. If another lord killed one of his vassals, it would always displease the lord, who would inevitably seek revenge when the opportunity arose.

Therefore, when a vassal killed a freeman in the street, the usual course of action was to arrest the criminal and hand him over to his own lord for judgment. No lord wanted to sour relations with another over such a small matter, unless they were from rival families.

As for how a lord dealt with a criminal vassal, that depended on the relative status and interests of the lords involved.

“Your man broke my rules. I am returning him to you. But you owe me an explanation!”

“Of course. How about I compensate you with one hundred Gold Sols? And I shall owe you a favor.”

“You allowed your man to kill someone in public today, forcing me to bow my head to that man. I am most displeased! Forty lashes for you, and you can go back to being one of the common subjects! The rest of you, keep your eyes open from now on, and don’t cause trouble for your Lord!”

This was the way between lords of equal standing.

“Your man broke my rules today. I had him given one hundred lashes in public. You may take him back.”

“Thank you, my lord. I will take him back and discipline him properly. My lord, here is my compensation of one thousand Gold Sols.”

“Say no more. Heal up. My Lord is still counting on you to help the family expand its territory.”

This was a great lord to a minor lord.

If it were a minor lord to a great lord, that would be a laughable fantasy.

Of course, this only applied to conflicts between vassals and freemen. If a vassal killed another vassal, that was an entirely different matter.

Old John believed the current situation was a result of them offending Lord Barol, who had then asked the magistrate to take care of them. In the end, it was because the gang leader thought they were unattached freemen.

This is going to cost a fortune this time, Old John thought with a pang of regret, at least four hundred Gold Sols.

To get the magistrate to move against them would have cost at least two hundred Gold Sols, especially since the magistrate of Black Fortress Town was an apprentice knight.

After this whole affair is over, our mission to lie low will be considered a failure. We’ll have no choice but to go to the domain and beg for the lord’s forgiveness. But before we leave, we must kill Barol! Old John thought viciously.

Initially, out of fear of retaliation from the Wimbledon family, Victor had ordered the old mercenaries to hide their identities and lie low in Black Fortress Town, keeping an eye on any movements from the Royal Capital.

Although Victor hadn’t told him the specifics, Old John, as an experienced old mercenary, could guess that some noble was targeting Victor. So they had never dared to reveal their connection to him, and as a result, they had attracted the covetous attention of hyenas.

However, Victor did not know that the Marchioness had not sent anyone to punish him. In Sophia’s eyes, simply cutting off the family’s support to Victor was the greatest punishment, because she believed Victor would be eaten by Sylvia until not even the scraps were left. Unfortunately, she didn’t know that Victor was no longer her pet, and that he had even managed to pique a sliver of Sylvia’s interest.

Your discarded piece has become someone else’s spare piece. But even a spare piece can make a few hops on the board. And in the human world today, with its surging undercurrents and unpredictable storms, who isn’t a chess piece?

“Stop! One more step and you’ll be shot dead! Take them all!” Just as the old mercenary was about to go upstairs to retrieve the family crest, the magistrate shouted him to a halt.

With more than a dozen cocked crossbows aimed at them, the old mercenaries were frozen in place. Their hearts sank to the bottom of a chasm. This was a hopeless situation!

There was something strange about today’s events. Although towns had laws, to a magistrate, the death of a single freeman was hardly a major incident. It could usually be settled with money. Old John had planned to use the family crest simply to establish a basis for negotiation, since a freeman had no standing to bargain with a magistrate.

But now, with crossbows drawn, it was clear that the magistrate was here to crush them, not to shake them down for money.

In a flash of insight, Old John understood. He and his old pals had been completely outplayed!

They must have spoken too carelessly, revealing their wealth and attracting the attention of those hyenas. Barol must have investigated their mercenary background, realized he couldn’t swallow them whole, and so sold the information to the magistrate as a favor, even helping to set this deadly trap.

Resistance was futile. It wasn’t just the dozen heavy crossbows aimed at them; the magistrate alone could have taken down their whole group of cripples.

Revealing Victor’s crest and their status as vassals was also no longer a path to survival. It was too late. If they had revealed it proactively, things might have been different.

The timing—proactive versus reactive—seemed like a small difference, but the outcome was worlds apart.

If they had revealed their identity before the magistrate had shown his intent to kill and rob them, he could have backed off in time, content to make a little extra on the side. Of course, they would have been driven out, but not killed. This was because secret agents who revealed their identities willingly were not death commandos on a sinister mission. Driving them away was sufficient. It was an unspoken understanding among lords. Which family didn’t have people out gathering intelligence?

But now, with crossbows pointed at their heads, the magistrate’s murderous intent was laid bare. To reveal their identity as secret agents now would only lead to two possible outcomes. First, the magistrate would arrest them for interrogation. If their backer was powerful, he would naturally hand them over to his own lord, perhaps even earning some merit. Second, if they belonged to a minor lord, he would simply dispose of them cleanly. After all, if the magistrate’s superior found out about his killing and robbery, his cushy post might be gone. There were plenty of others eyeing the position. The minor lord, in turn, could only pretend he knew nothing.

And their Lord Victor didn’t even have a family knight… he was just a minor lord!

Old John understood these unspoken rules all too well. When they had helped Lord Dodor eliminate Sasan’s secret agents, a number of other families’ agents had been rooted out in the process. Those magistrates had all lined their pockets handsomely. He had seen such methods many times.

Old John secretly pressed his wooden prosthetic leg hard against the floorboards. He wanted to leave a hidden mark for Narsen, a message indicating two things: the gang and the magistrate.

This was not to ask Narsen to avenge them, but to give him two leads to follow. Otherwise, with their group having vanished so mysteriously, Narsen would undoubtedly investigate to the bitter end, whether out of years of comradeship-in-arms or to determine if it was a conspiracy against the family.

It was better to point the boy in the right direction than to let him run around like a headless fly and cause the family to suffer more unnecessary losses.

Old John noticed that several of his old pals were quietly doing the same thing. A faint smile touched his lips. They were old brothers who had eaten from the same bowl; their silent understanding was truly unparalleled.

If we die, we die. In any case, many others will be buried with us! Once the magistrate finds out we’re vassals, Barol and his men will all be silenced. Truth be told, people like us should have died long ago. We’ve been a drag on the mercenary company for so many years. If not for Lord Victor’s appreciation, we really would have dragged the War Bear Mercenary Company to its knees. But how could we ever bring ourselves to leave? Our only fault is that our work was too sloppy, costing our lord a great deal of money. I hope Lord Victor doesn’t blame Narsen and the others.

Old John thought to himself silently.

If Victor knew about this, he would surely be filled with regret. He had originally arranged for them to stay in Black Fortress Town simply because he was worried the old and disabled mercenaries could not endure a long journey. The idea for them to hide their identities and gather intelligence had been a whim. Neither of the personalities in his Will Side had any experience managing a family, nor did they even know what a “secret agent” was. The old mercenaries, for their part, clearly didn’t know how to be secret agents either, which led to this tragedy.

Reality is often like this. A whim from a great man can often bring ruin upon the small. And while Victor was a minor lord, to an ordinary person, he was still a great man.

“My lord, we surrender. We will go with you.”

“Come out one by one. No funny business,” the magistrate warned.

Seeing the old mercenaries cooperate one by one, the magistrate was secretly impressed. As expected of men who live the mercenary life. Very decisive.

“Seal this place up. Take all these prisoners away,” the magistrate ordered his men.

“Hey? My lord, we had a deal! This isn’t what Lord Barol told me.”

Seeing the magistrate’s men herding them out of the inn as well, Hooke grew anxious. They hadn’t seen a single Copper Sol yet.

“Get lost!”

The magistrate’s whip sent Hooke rolling on the ground, wailing in agony. The mercenaries, however, wore cold sneers. These hyenas were facing death and didn’t even know it.

The magistrate’s guards escorted the old mercenaries down the street. The surrounding crowd quickly scattered, wanting no part of any trouble that might come from being a spectator.

“Stop!”

A sudden roar brought the magistrate’s party to a dead halt. A hulking man clad in armor and wielding two axes blocked the middle of the road. It was Narsen, who had just arrived in Black Fortress Town.

“Narsen, my boy!”

“Captain!”

Narsen’s appearance brought the old mercenaries immense joy and relief. They had a way out now! It was impossible for the magistrate to silence them anymore.

Seeing dozens of well-equipped noble guards swarm forward from the opposite side, the magistrate’s face turned grim. He had a very bad feeling about this.

The burly man before him exerted immense pressure. Merely by raising his axes, a metallic scent washed over them—the smell of iron and blood! Looking at his fine armor and the guards by his side, it was clear he was a lord’s guard, quite possibly a Knight.

The magistrate drew his sword. He now regretted not wearing his scale armor, but he could not back down. This was his duty.

“Who are you to dare block the Black Fortress Town magistrate from escorting criminals?!” the magistrate said coldly. Not even a Knight could make him bow his head, and he refused to believe anyone would dare challenge the authority of the York family in Black Fortress Town.

“Stop!”

Just as swords were drawn and bows were bent, a familiar voice called out from a carriage behind them.

“Lord Bruce!” the magistrate exclaimed in surprise. But his surprise turned to bewilderment when he saw Bruce walk over to the strange Knight and clap him on the shoulder.

“Shax, what happened?”

A voice as pleasant as a clear spring also came from the other side, and a moment later, the magistrate, Shax, saw a tall, graceful figure walking towards them.

“Nicole?” Shax cried out in astonishment. He knew Nicole was the Countess’s personal bodyguard, and now she also seemed to be with the opposing group.

Then he saw four familiar apprentice knights from his own family emerge from behind, fawning shamelessly around Nicole…

“Lord Bruce, these are a few of my old pals…” Narsen put away his battle-axes and pleaded with Bruce.

Bruce nodded and turned to Shax. “What’s going on?”

Shax cursed his luck inwardly, but he dutifully gave a brief account of what had happened.

“Let them go. It’s just one freeman. They are all vassals of Baron Wimbledon,” Bruce said lightly. He was well aware of Shax’s little schemes—just trying to make a quick buck.

Shax waved a hand, and his men immediately untied the ropes binding the old mercenaries, setting them free.

“Shax, who are those people?” Nicole asked, her pretty face stern, gesturing toward Hooke and his men with her charming, sharp chin.

“Them? Just some scum!” Shax said dismissively, glancing back.

A cold glint flashed in Nicole’s eyes. Carrying her sheathed longsword, she walked towards Hooke’s band of ruffians.

Her steps were like flowing water as she weaved through the group. Thud. Thud. Thud. Her sheathed sword struck the back of each ruffian’s head with unerring precision. Wherever she passed, men collapsed. In an instant, every one of the desperados was dead.

So you dare to scheme for Victor’s assets!

“Nicole! You! You’re a Knight now?!” Shax exclaimed in shock.

Nicole had just used the family’s martial techniques, which he recognized. But she had employed them with a fluid, natural grace that left the scum with no way to resist. Her control of her strength was precise and focused; every ruffian had been struck on the back of the head and killed instantly by the concussion, without a single cracked skull or even a drop of blood. It was because her attack was so light, so lethal, and yet so clean, that the desperados hadn’t even let out a single cry of pain… They were finished before they even knew what had happened.

“Hmph!” Nicole shot Shax an annoyed glare, tossed her head, and walked back to the carriage, with Bruce’s four retainer knights trotting obediently behind her.

That man is the worst of them! He even dared to target Victor. I must report him to My Lady! Still, his eye for talent isn’t bad. He could tell that this Knight is, in fact, a Knight.

One truly had to wonder if Victor would still dare to be so lovey-dovey with Nicole if he knew she had such a ruthless side.

“Shax, let me make an introduction. This is Baron Wimbledon’s Guard Captain, Narsen. He is the very same Bear of the Northlands who killed a knight from the Tartus family in a single blow!” Bruce said, pulling Shax over. After all, Shax was the magistrate of Black Fortress Town, with deep roots here. Introducing him to Narsen was the proper thing to do. The small misunderstanding could be swept aside.

“Lord Shax, why don’t we have a drink together? I’ve brought a great deal of fine wine from my domain, and I’m sure you will enjoy it,” Narsen said warmly to Shax. He was astute enough to understand Bruce’s goodwill.

“Oh! Good! Alright!” Shax was shocked once again.

“Don’t be in such a hurry to go drinking. Shax, have your men clean this place up, then escort our convoy to Rose Manor. We killed an Aberrant Rat this time,” Bruce interjected quickly.

Shax was utterly astounded. He felt certain that today must be his designated day of shock.

As for the thugs, Bruce and the others didn’t spare them a second glance. In a short while, someone would come to drag their bodies away, perhaps to be buried in the very same pit from the day before.

Chapter 61: Jack and Reno

“Aargh!” Reno roared, his thick arm cutting through the air with a vicious gust as he threw a sweeping punch at a figure beside him.

The figure, a full head shorter than Reno, ducked slightly. With a dip and a turn, he evaded Reno’s ferocious sweep and slid to his opponent’s side and rear. His hands formed claws, his fingers like hooks. One hand gripped the small of Reno’s back while the other seized the hollow behind Reno’s right knee, preparing to exert force and throw his opponent. But the moment he touched Reno, he found that his opponent’s skin, which should have been as tough as cowhide, was now as soft as mud! He knew this was bad, but before he could let go, Reno’s muscles bulged. The spots he had grabbed instantly became as hard as steel. The sudden force not only repelled his claw-like hands but also sent him staggering slightly.

Reno chuckled and shot out a side kick. He had been thrown twice in a row by this opponent. Every time he tried to grab the man and return the favor, he’d missed. His opponent was as swift as the wind and surprisingly strong. Most importantly, the man seemed to have some precognitive ability, always managing to exploit the gaps and weak points in Reno’s attacks, preventing him from using even half his strength. This left Reno incredibly frustrated. This time, by using the secret technique of the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form, he had finally forced an opening in his opponent’s defense, an opportunity he certainly wasn’t going to miss.

Reno’s side kick did indeed connect with his opponent, but the man didn’t fly through the air as expected. Instead, at the moment of impact, he grabbed Reno’s thick calf with both hands and used the force of the kick to leap backward. As soon as he landed, he used both his hands and feet to retreat rapidly, putting fifteen meters between them in an instant.

“That’s enough!” Victor called out, stopping the two who were posturing to attack again. Behind him stood four other men, two tall and two short.

“Jack, how are you? Are you alright?” Victor asked the shorter man who had been sparring with Reno.

“My lord, I’m fine.”

Jack straightened up, clasped his hands together, and raised them over his head, stretching his body taut. He twisted like a giant python, a series of muffled pops echoing from within his muscular frame before he relaxed.

“My lord, when Reno used the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form just now, the shock made my muscles twitch a little, but I’m fine now.”

Victor nodded slightly. He had observed it clearly. Reno’s kick hadn’t caused much damage; it was the rebound from Reno’s muscles that Jack had taken the brunt of. Though it was just a process of tensing muscles, Reno had actually mobilized the power of his entire muscle group. An ordinary person would have suffered torn ligaments and broken bones. The power of a seventeen-point Physique was no joke.

But Jack was no ordinary person. He was an Alchemical militia loaded with the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form!

Jack, Alchemical militia, height 173 centimeters, Physique 12, Spirit 10, Perception 15, Life 3, loaded with Planting, Short Weapon Proficiency, Ranged Weapon Mastery, and the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form. Lifespan: fifteen years.

A little over ten days ago, Victor had ordered the King to produce an Alchemical militia loaded with the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form. However, a mutation occurred during the production process, and the Alchemical militia that ultimately appeared was Jack.

This mutation gave Victor a new understanding of the value of Mystic Forms. The subsequent tests on Jack left him ecstatic.

The Spirit Monkey Mystic Form originated from the Spirit Monkey Stance. This stance practice combined movement and stillness, training a person’s eyes, ears, nose, tongue, and body. It emphasized the connection between the internal and external, a unity of the self and its environment. The “environment” in the Spirit Monkey Stance didn’t refer to the mythological concept of heaven and earth, but rather to all external information, such as visual signals, auditory signals, taste signals, and even changes in temperature and humidity. The purpose of the Spirit Monkey Stance was to sharpen the five senses until one’s ears were sharp and eyes were clear. This was very similar to Victor’s X-3 Overlimit, though of course not nearly as powerful. However, the Spirit Monkey Stance placed greater emphasis on connecting the internal with the external, allowing one to hear as if seeing, for the hands to follow the eyes, to understand through touch, and to act upon understanding. Ultimately, it made a person’s movements agile and coordinated, like an ape, able to scale walls and walk on roofs as if on level ground.

It was said that a grandmaster who had practiced the Spirit Monkey Stance to a profound level could catch flies with one hand while blindfolded and could dodge gunfire from twenty meters away. The slightest touch of force would trigger a natural reaction from them, allowing them to borrow and redirect force. They could even discern the way an opponent’s force was exerted and the paths it traveled just by making contact, allowing them to intercept and disrupt it. This was the so-called “Listening Force.”

Furthermore, the Spirit Monkey Stance also focused on strengthening the body’s muscles and bones. Although it lacked the powerful and meticulous tempering effect of the Ox-Subduing Stance, it was still far superior to ordinary training methods. It could even manipulate muscles to move bone joints, achieving a bone-shrinking effect. At an advanced level of cultivation, a practitioner could pass through any opening their head could fit through.

Of course, Jack couldn’t do that yet. His physique was quite brawny, with his Physique score having reached twelve points, which had already broken the limits of a normal human.

A twelve-point Physique was not to be underestimated. After testing, Victor was certain that this was equivalent to the strength of a silverback gorilla from Earth. In fact, Jack could easily perform the “one-handed ox-subduing” feat of the Ox-Subduing Stance. In the end, the humans of this world were indeed much stronger than those on Earth.

After conducting several tests on Jack, Victor discovered a few things. First, Jack’s top movement speed reached twenty-two meters per second. Second, he could cross a ten-meter distance in one second and fire three arrows from a heavy bow, each one piercing the bullseye of an Iron-oak target forty meters away. Third, Victor asked Jack to perform a fruit-slicing demonstration with a short blade. Of course, the “fruit” was actually an Iron-oak target. When Reno threw the target, Jack’s short blade danced in a flash of silver light, splitting the wooden target into fragments in mid-air. Victor calculated that he had struck eleven times per second.

Therefore, Jack was a special operative with high agility, high evasion, high speed, and high skill. Moreover, his smaller stature made it easier for him to blend in with ordinary people than Reno.

Victor was now certain that if weapons were involved, Reno was truly no match for Jack. Of course, this didn’t mean that the militia with the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form had no value.

Jack had an advantage over Reno, but if he were to face a Knight, he would be crushed. The Savage Gnoll chief had been a prime example of high strength and high agility. Although its use of strength was crude, it had been defeated by Eskri in just two moves.

Victor still remembered Eskri’s stunningly brilliant reverse-body thrust. It was a sword strike delivered after suddenly changing direction by one hundred eighty degrees in the middle of a charge. It was simply incredible! Victor believed Eskri must have used the power of the elements, which meant that, like Bruce, he had already touched the threshold of the Silver-rank.

Victor was certain that neither Reno nor Jack would be a match for Narsen. Reno might be able to hold out for a while, but Jack would likely be finished the moment they engaged, unable to use any of his tricks. This was the crushing effect of a huge disparity in strength. Moreover, Narsen’s Perception attribute had also broken its limit, reaching twelve points. If they couldn’t win against Narsen, they stood even less of a chance against a Knight, whose spirit and body were in perfect harmony.

However, Victor was also certain that an Alchemical militia loaded with a Mystic Form could now defeat an apprentice knight, perhaps even quite easily. Furthermore, as their training progressed, their strength would surely improve. In the future, they might even be able to contend with Knights.

Therefore, Victor subsequently produced two more Spirit Monkey militia and two more Ox-Subduing militia. This combination was highly complementary: one could wield heavy polearms and face enemies head-on, while the other could use powerful bows for precise kills from a distance and also engage in close-quarters combat.

Originally, Victor had also ordered the production of an Alchemical militia loaded with the Golden Toad Mystic Form. He wanted to see what kind of changes that would bring. But strangely, the King told him that it was impossible to load the Golden Toad Mystic Form onto an Alchemical militia or an auxiliary soldier!

The Golden Toad Mystic Form was the most mysterious of them all. According to X-3’s records, it was a stance practice that cultivated qi, blood, and the internal organs, focusing on breathing and meditation. However, there was no explanation of its specific effects, only that it would make one immune to all diseases and prolong one’s life. After practicing it himself, Victor discovered that the Golden Toad Mystic Form was the only stance that could cause his Life attribute to fluctuate upward. But as soon as he stopped practicing, the attribute would drop back down, showing no actual increase.

And now, the Alchemy Tower had generated the Golden Toad Mystic Form, but it couldn’t be loaded! This puzzled Victor even more. If Alchemical lifeforms were rejected by the water element and thus couldn’t be loaded with the Golden Toad Mystic Form, then how could the Alchemy Tower have generated this skill in the first place?

Victor had a faint feeling that the Mystic Forms possessed immense potential but had not yet fully integrated with this world. The key lay with the Golden Toad Mystic Form! If the Golden Toad Mystic Form could break through its limitations, the Mystic Forms could very well become a new power system!

“My lord! We’ve succeeded! This is the granulated sugar you wanted.” A voice, Busuo’s, interrupted Victor’s train of thought.

Victor turned to see Busuo walking toward him, holding a plate.

“Let me see!” Victor walked over excitedly.

The plate was filled with small, slightly greenish-white crystals. Each one was translucent and sparkled, emitting a faint, sweet fragrance. They looked very appealing.

Victor picked up a grain of sugar and put it in his mouth. A clean, sweet flavor immediately melted on his tongue, the delightful taste continuously stimulating his taste buds, making him want to try another.

Closing his eyes, he savored the taste for a moment longer before smiling at Busuo. “Very good! This is exactly the sugar I wanted! You’ve done well!”

“The sugar granules are a bit large! They can be ground finer.”

Saying this, Victor couldn’t help but laugh out loud. With granulated sugar, he finally had a foundation to stand on, a way to secure a steady stream of funds to produce alchemical creatures. Then, no matter how big the world was, where could he not go?

The Adsorption Crystal he’d gotten from Nicole was indeed effective at decolorizing sugarcane juice! But the process of producing granulated sugar was not smooth, and Victor had even despaired at one point.

At the time, he had dropped the Adsorption Crystal into the filtered sugarcane juice. The impurities in the juice were visibly drawn to the crystal. Victor was delighted, but in the end, he discovered that the juice had turned completely into clear water, while the impurities adsorbed by the crystal had turned into raw sugar!

This was baffling. Unwilling to give up, Victor conducted several more experiments, but he discovered to his despair that the sugar and the impurities were being absorbed simultaneously. This meant it was impossible to use a time difference to extract the sugar.

It was for this reason that Victor had held off on organizing the Alchemical militia to go to the marsh to collect Adsorption Crystals. During this time, he had even produced three additional Alchemical auxiliary soldiers.

Two days ago, just as Victor was about to give up, Busuo had unintentionally told him that he recognized this crystal! It was a Purification Crystal. The Alchemical Empire commonly used this type of crystal to purify water sources. It could also be carried around, making it very convenient for use in the wild.

Victor quickly asked him about the properties of the Purification Crystal. Busuo rattled off a long explanation. From it, Victor noted one particular characteristic of the Purification Crystal: it purified impurities from water very quickly during the day, but it released those impurities back into the water very slowly at night. Furthermore, it released salts first, and only then the other impurities!

Victor immediately gave Busuo a harsh scolding, demanding to know why he hadn’t said so earlier. But Busuo told him in all seriousness that he truly didn’t understand what “lime” or “adsorbent” meant, nor did he recognize Purple Cane or know what “sucrose” was. As for the Purification Crystal, Victor had never asked him about it…

Victor was instantly speechless. This was the flaw of alchemical creatures. They possessed extraordinary skills and a wealth of knowledge, but their way of thinking was rigid; they didn’t know how to expand upon the knowledge they had. However, the King had stated that Alchemical humans had the ability to learn and would become more flexible over time.

Afterward, Victor explained the process of making sucrose to Busuo and had them monitor the process of the sugar being released back into the water at night. By removing the Purification Crystal from the water at the right time, they obtained pure sugarcane juice. And that was how they achieved today’s results.

Now, it was time to go to the Great Marsh and collect Purification Crystals!

“Jack! The few of you, climb over the fence here. Blackfeather will lead you to a gathering point. I’ll assign you your mission when I arrive,” Victor instructed the Alchemical militia.

These Alchemical militia had not yet been integrated among the freemen. To avoid being seen, they had to climb the fence. Although the outside was steep, it was no challenge for them. Victor had tested it a few days ago; even if an alchemical creature fell, it wouldn’t be a big deal!

The three Spirit Monkey militia, carrying hemp ropes, nimbly climbed up the fence using their hands and feet. They sat securely on top and dropped the ropes down. The Ox-Subduing militia began to climb up using the ropes. Although their Perception was a high ten points, the fence, which was over nine meters tall, still presented some difficulty for them.

Seeing the nimble movements and orderly cooperation of the Alchemical militia, Victor nodded slightly. These Alchemical militia weren’t as stiff and dull as the Alchemical auxiliary soldiers. Perhaps he could let them control some of the freemen.

But when Victor saw Reno also starting to climb, his face darkened.

“Reno! What are you doing?”

“My lord! I’m climbing up.”

“You can use the main gate! And I didn’t tell you to go!”

“Oh!”

Maybe I should build a secret door here, Victor thought to himself, rubbing his chin.

Chapter 62: Tip of the Iceberg

Victor, with Reno in tow, hurried toward the lower camp. He needed to rendezvous with Jack and the others. Collecting the Purification Crystals was the top priority now, and this was the first time the alchemical creatures would be deployed, a fact that excited Victor.

As Victor approached, the guards at the gate all saluted their lord.

“Prepare two horses for us. I’m heading out,” Victor commanded coolly.

Soon, two sturdy horses were brought over. Victor and Reno mounted them and galloped away, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake.

An hour later, Lilia and Old Ham rushed back to the camp.

“Where did Lord Victor go?” Lilia demanded of the gate guard.

“My lord didn’t say. He and the big fellow, Reno, asked for two horses and left immediately,” the guard answered, unnerved by Lilia’s anxious demeanor.

“Uncle Ham! Can the Tiku hounds still track them?” Lilia asked, turning back to Old Ham.

“They were scared out of their wits. They’ll be useless for a day or two,” Old Ham replied gravely.

“What do we do?! My brother isn’t here! All the veterans in the company went to Black Fortress Town. Those bastards! Filthy-minded animals!” Thinking of the approaching danger, Lilia burst out in a panicked tirade.

“Lilia, don’t panic. My lord is very strong, and the big fellow is with him. Nothing will happen. The important thing now is to send someone to notify the people outside to be on high alert, just in case,” Old Ham advised, seeing Lilia in disarray.

“You’re right. I’ll arrange for someone to notify Sister Linda and Village Head Moline. Then, I’ll take a team to track Lord Victor.” The thought of Reno’s formidable strength calmed Lilia slightly.

“Lilia, without the Tiku hounds’ help, it’ll be hard to find Lord Victor. Alright! We’ll just have to sacrifice two old pals.”

Seeing the stubborn look in Lilia’s eyes, Old Ham gave up trying to dissuade her. He decided to use a secret art to stimulate the life potential of two Tiku hounds, even though it would cost them their lives. Lord Victor’s safety was more important!

Victor and Reno soon spotted the alchemical crow circling in the sky. That was the rendezvous point he had designated.

“You guys are pretty fast, aren’t you?”

Victor was somewhat surprised to see the five Alchemical militia already waiting for him at the rendezvous point. He and Reno had come on horseback.

“My lord, we ran all the way here,” Jack said respectfully.

The rendezvous point was forty kilometers from the camp. The time between Victor’s departure and theirs hadn’t been long, yet Jack and his men had arrived first. This meant these men had run forty kilometers at the speed of a warhorse. Victor was incredibly envious of such stamina.

“Alright, everyone’s here! Huh? Where are those guys?” Victor suddenly realized something was missing and asked strangely.

Jack let out a long whistle. Five black shadows immediately shot out from a distant thicket, racing toward them.

Victor looked over and saw that the black shapes were about six kilometers away, yet they were closing the distance at an astonishing speed. The complex terrain didn’t seem to hinder them in the slightest. They leaped over a ten-meter-wide ditch in a single bound and smashed right through thorny brambles, scattering them everywhere. In just five short minutes, the creatures had reached Victor’s side. They surrounded him, heads bowed, tongues lolling out, thick tails sweeping back and forth, kicking up clouds of dust. They whimpered as they tried to nuzzle up against him.

“Stupid dogs! Stop! Sit!”

Victor, alarmed, quickly gestured to stop the massive creatures’ affectionate display. He had no desire to be covered in their slobber again.

These were the Alchemical Warhounds recently created by the Alchemy Tower.

Alchemical Warhound: Physique 18, Spirit 4, Perception 14, Life 5. Cost: 800 Gold Sol. Innate abilities: Tracking, Bloodlust, Wild Instinct. Lifespan: 4 years. The standard sentry unit of the Alchemical Empire.

These Alchemical Warhounds had an average shoulder height of over ninety centimeters, were nearly two meters long, and weighed around one hundred and twenty kilograms—they were undeniably giant dogs. Their fur was thick and bluish-gray, their bones were stout and as hard as steel, and their bodies were covered in powerful, toned muscles. They had protruding muzzles filled with sharp, hard teeth. Their two upper canines, a full eight centimeters long, were exposed, forming a pair of fangs that made them look exceptionally ferocious. It was this distinct feature that immediately identified them as dire animals!

Since these Warhounds had been produced, Victor had only run a few simple tests. He had already confirmed that their strength and endurance were astonishing. He’d had Reno compete against one in a tug-of-war. Even using the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form, Reno could only manage a draw. But when the Warhound used its Bloodlust ability, Reno was immediately dragged all over the ground. However, after the effects of Bloodlust wore off, the Warhound became extremely weak, unable to even stand.

Furthermore, the Warhounds’ bodies were incredibly tough. They could roll down the steep slope of the upper camp completely unscathed—Victor had already tested this.

To protect the secrets of the Alchemy Tower, Victor had designated an area of the upper camp near the cave as a restricted zone, concealing it with a fence. Not even Lilia or Narsen were allowed inside.

However, once these ferocious-looking dogs were produced, getting them out had been a headache for Victor. In the end, he could only have Reno throw them, one by one, over the fence. And so, Reno would grab a Warhound and toss it over the eight or nine-meter-high fence, after which he would hear the Warhound whimper as it rolled down the steep slope.

Feeling a bit uneasy, Victor activated Seamless and leaped onto the fence to look down. He saw the Warhound roll about halfway down before it found its balance and happily ran the rest of the way down the slope.

And just like that, five Warhounds were thrown out, one after another. Then, following Victor’s orders and guided by the alchemical crow, they ran to this location and lay in wait.

Victor looked at the five militia, five Warhounds, and ten alchemical crows before him, feeling a surge of satisfaction.

“This time, you are to enter the Great Marsh and collect this Purification Crystal. Blackfeather will show you the exact location.” Victor took out a Purification Crystal and passed it to Jack and the others.

“During the mission, your priority is to avoid danger. If it proves impossible to collect the crystals, do not force it. You can abandon the mission and retreat,” Victor instructed sternly.

Although the alchemical creatures were formidable, the Great Marsh was fraught with peril. Even Bruce’s group had suffered losses there, and Victor wasn’t arrogant enough to think his small team was stronger than theirs. Therefore, his strategy was to slip in quietly and bring the items out just as quietly.

“My lord, with the Warhounds, we can avoid most dangers. Their instincts are sharp, and they have the ability to foresee danger,” Jack said.

Victor nodded. This was the effect of the Warhounds’ Wild Instinct ability. The King had told him that Wild Instinct was the Warhound’s core skill, while Bloodlust was meant to be used when cornered to cover a retreat for others. The Alchemical Warhound’s designated role was cannon fodder!

“Don’t be careless. We don’t know much about the situation in the Great Marsh, but we know for certain there are Lizardmen tribes inside, and the most formidable Half-dragon tribes at that. You can cover yourselves in mud to mask your scent. Compared to the Purification Crystals, I’d much rather you all come back in one piece.”

This small team had cost Victor ten thousand five hundred Gold Sol. It was currently the strongest force at his command, and he didn’t want to lose even the cannon fodder Warhounds.

“My lord, if it’s Lizardmen tribes, smearing mud is useless. The Serpent Fiends they raise can detect temperature changes. We can find Blackstink Mushrooms and rub them on our bodies. All of Taivalyr’s descendants and blood-kin despise the smell and will instinctively avoid it,” Jack explained to Victor.

“Wait, what is Taivalyr? What are its descendants and blood-kin?”

The information Jack revealed stunned Victor.

“Taivalyr, the Ancient Lord of the Black Marsh, is the ancestor of all Serpent Lizards. Its blood-kin make up the marsh creature biome, which includes Lizardmen and Serpent Fiends. The Hydra Lizard is its direct descendant.”

“How do you know all this? Why didn’t the King tell me?” Victor asked grimly.

“My lord, this is all knowledge from our Will Side. The Tower Spirit does not have the authority to read or modify the inherent content within our Will Side.”

“Then what do you know about this ‘Taivalyr’?” Victor asked, composing himself.

“We only know that Taivalyr is the Ancient Lord of the Black Marsh, and the traits and abilities of his descendants.”

“Alright! Tell me about the traits of the Lizardmen, Serpent Fiends, and Hydra Lizards.”

The Alchemical Empire clearly wouldn’t load Alchemical militia with more detailed ancient knowledge. Victor decided to simply ask for specifics.

“Lizardmen, blood-kin of the Black Marsh Lord, have a maximum lifespan of seventy years. They have a keen sense of smell, sharp vision, and are skilled with javelins and hunting bows. They possess underwater breathing and level-three healing ability, with a few individuals having level-two healing. Lizardmen have level-three intelligence, can communicate with most Black Marsh blood-kin, and extremely rare elite individuals possess extraordinary abilities.”

“Serpent Fiends, blood-kin of the Black Marsh Lord, resemble large lizards. They have no intelligence, possess underwater breathing, and level-two healing ability. Extremely rare elite individuals have an extraordinary talent: Petrification. A Serpent Fiend’s heart is a class-three material, and an elite Serpent Fiend’s eyes are a class-two material.”

“Hydra Lizard, direct descendant of the Black Marsh Lord, has a maximum lifespan of sixteen hundred years. It possesses level-four intelligence, underwater breathing, Extraordinary Regeneration, Elemental Resistance, a Venomous Domain, and the extraordinary talent: Elemental Stasis. The Hydra Lizard’s hide is a class-one material, its heart is a precious material, its bones are a precious material, its eyeballs are a precious material, its venom is a class-one material, its droppings are a class-three material, and…”

“Stop! Stop! Stop! I get it, the Hydra Lizard is like a pig—valuable from head to toe! Now, tell me about Petrification and Elemental Stasis.” Seeing Jack ramble on, Victor quickly cut him off. He had experienced the bluntness of the Alchemical humans before.

“Making eye contact with an elite Serpent Fiend will cause the elemental circulation in a living being to slow down, resulting in paralysis and stiffness, as if they’ve been petrified.”

“Elemental Stasis is also petrification, but because a Hydra Lizard has so many eyes, the probability of being petrified is greatly increased, making it nearly impossible to resist.”

Victor nodded at Jack to show he understood, then asked another question: “Why is this knowledge loaded into the Will Side of Alchemical militia? And what about these material grades? Does that mean collecting these materials is your actual job?”

“My lord, collecting materials in hazardous environments is the primary job of us Alchemical militia.”

Jack’s answer confirmed Victor’s suspicion. For now, he wasn’t in a hurry to press for more answers. The knowledge of the Alchemical militia all came from the same mold; he could just ask Reno later.

“It seems collecting the Purification Crystals won’t be difficult for you then,” Victor said with a smile. If even the Hydra Lizard was on the Alchemical militia’s menu, then collecting some crystals was nothing. Although, Victor suspected his militia would be the meal if they actually faced a Hydra Lizard.

“My lord, based on the requirements you just gave, is this a third-level mission?” Jack asked.

“Is there a distinction?” Victor asked, puzzled.

“My lord, for a third-level mission, self-preservation is the primary objective, and collecting the Purification Crystals is the secondary objective. For a second-level mission, collecting the crystals is the primary objective, and self-preservation is secondary. For a first-level mission, collecting the crystals is the sole objective,” Jack answered flatly.

“A third-level mission! You are permitted to sacrifice a maximum of three Alchemical Warhounds,” Victor said quickly. He had great plans for these fearless Alchemical humans and had no intention of letting them be lost here.

“As you command, my lord,” the Alchemical militia replied in unison, which startled Victor.

“You have fifteen days. If you complete the mission early, you can return. Assemble here again and have Blackfeather notify me. Remember, after fifteen days, you must wait here for my orders, whether the mission is complete or not. Now, set out!”

At Victor’s signal, the five fully armed Alchemical militia, five enormous Warhounds, and ten alchemical crows advanced toward the Great Marsh.

This was their first mission. Or perhaps, it was their Nth mission.

Mounted on his horse, Victor fell into deep thought. His conversation with Jack today had revealed a great deal of information, allowing him to sketch out a rough picture.

The Alchemical Empire’s logistical Alchemy Tower used alchemical crows for reconnaissance and scouting, Alchemical militia for gathering and hunting, Alchemical Warhounds for guarding and sentry duty, and Alchemical auxiliary soldiers for processing and production.

Judging by the knowledge the Alchemical militia possessed, the alchemists of the Néier Empire were extremely knowledgeable about ancient secrets, which suggested that their traditions ran deep.

Thinking of this, Victor immediately turned to Reno beside him and asked, “Reno, whose blood-kin are humans?”

“I don’t know.”

Victor nodded. He wasn’t surprised by this answer. The Empire’s alchemists had no need to instill knowledge about humans into their alchemical creatures.

“Whose blood-kin are Gnolls?”

“Grimku, the King of Gluttony.”

“What about elves?”

“I don’t know.”

This answer surprised Victor. He frowned and tentatively asked, “What about barbarians?”

“I don’t know.”

Still no answer. Victor sighed and said, “Let’s go. We’re heading back.”

Victor and Reno rode slowly back toward Hill Camp. Before they were even halfway there, they saw Lilia approaching with a team of guards.

“My lord is here!”

Upon seeing Victor and Reno, Lilia and her guards immediately surrounded them, quickly forming a protective circle. Bows were nocked and swords were drawn, as if they were facing a great enemy.

“Lilia, what happened?” Victor grew tense at the sight of this formation.

“Victor, as long as you’re okay.” Seeing Victor safe and sound, Lilia’s voice choked with emotion.

“Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” Victor asked loudly to the people around him, half-hugging Lilia.

“My lord, Lilia was worried you were in danger. My Tiku hounds discovered a pack of dire animals roaming nearby!” Old Ham quickly explained to Victor.

“What? A pack of dire animals?!”

Victor was deeply shaken by this news. Now was their most vulnerable time. A pack of dire animals could bring catastrophic consequences to the freemen’s camp.

“Yes, my lord. I examined their tracks. They should be dire wolves, and at least five of them. This is very rare,” Old Ham said with certainty.

“……….” Victor.

Chapter 63: Without a Ruler, There is Chaos

It was the cusp of the Season of Water and the Season of Earth. A fine, slanting rain fell like a silken curtain. Nourished by the water, the seeds of life, after four months of dormancy and incubation, began to reveal their presence to the world, suffusing it with a vibrant green.

Victor’s Hill Camp was now vastly different from how it had been two months prior. The low sheds once used for temporary shelter had all been torn down, replaced by brand-new wooden houses. The wide roads were paved with slate, and the saplings planted along them had already sprouted tender green leaves, a delightful sight and the very color of hope.

At this moment, Hill Camp was a village filled with the scent of promise—clean, tidy, and orderly. Shrouded in the fine rain, it even exuded an air of peace and beauty that was truly captivating.

And yet, Victor’s heart was incredibly heavy.

A blunder yesterday had thrown his camp into an uproar—one might even call it a disaster.

“So, you pulled out all the guards to look for me, and that’s what caused all this?”

Victor gazed out the window, his question directed at a crestfallen Lilia.

“My lord, you can’t blame Lilia. It was my failure to manage the freemen that led to this mess,” Linda chimed in hastily.

Victor sighed. He already understood the whole story.

Three days ago, Victor had sent the five Alchemical Warhounds out of the camp, ordering them to lie hidden forty kilometers to the west. What he hadn’t expected was that Old Ham’s Tiku hounds, while patrolling the camp’s perimeter, would catch the Warhounds’ scent. The Tiku hounds were scared out of their wits, fleeing back to their kennels with their tails between their legs, refusing to come out again.

The Tiku hounds’ abnormal reaction caught Old Ham’s attention. As an experienced herdsman, he knew this was how the hounds behaved when they encountered a dire animal.

Out of caution, Old Ham didn’t rashly inform Victor. Instead, he personally searched the area around the camp and found the Warhounds’ tracks to the west. When he compared the size of the prints, he was horrified to discover they were larger than his hand. Even more terrifying was the fact that there were five such monsters. This completely defied his understanding; dire animals were territorial and would never gather in such numbers.

Puzzled, he once again led his Tiku hounds out to follow the tracks. Perhaps because two days had passed and the Warhounds’ scent had faded, the Tiku hounds, under their master’s scolding, tracked westward for twenty kilometers before turning tail and bolting. Old Ham was now certain: they were dire animals, and five dire wolves at that!

Due to the lockdown Victor had imposed on the upper camp, Old Ham could only report the matter to Lilia. By the time Lilia brought him to see Victor, Victor and Reno had already left.

Worried that Victor might be in danger, Lilia informed Moline and Linda, then mustered all the guards under their command to search for him.

After receiving Lilia’s warning, Moline immediately led the subjects who were building the village back to Hill Camp, while Linda notified the freemen working outside to return to their temporary settlement.

Tension began to spread. The subjects all returned to Hill Camp and raised the drawbridge. But in the temporary settlement, the freemen grew restless. Aware that danger was approaching, they demanded that Linda allow them to take refuge in Hill Camp, but she flatly refused. Linda declared on the spot that she would face the danger with them. Intimidated by her status as magistrate, the freemen gradually quieted down. However, some took advantage of the chaos to settle old scores, stabbing and killing two people on the spot. Order instantly collapsed.

The freemen fought amongst themselves, and the scene descended into chaos. When Linda’s attempts to stop them failed, she resorted to force, killing three people herself, but it was no use. She had too few people, and they were all just militia. Fortunately, Moline organized the militia from Hill Camp to provide timely reinforcements, and order was finally restored in the temporary settlement. Even so, seven freemen died in the riot, and more than a dozen others took the opportunity to flee the camp.

“Lilia bears some responsibility, but the greatest responsibility lies with me,” Victor said bitterly.

What could Victor say? He himself was the instigator. For Lilia to organize a force to rescue him when she thought he was in danger was, in itself, not wrong. For Linda to hold her ground at the freemen’s settlement despite having insufficient manpower was commendable, and Moline’s decision to have the villagers return to the camp was a mature and prudent move. They had all performed admirably, yet a major disaster had still occurred. This was what he needed to reflect on.

“Lilia, you were far too reckless. If it were truly as Old Ham said, five dire wolves, did you think the fifty-some guards you brought could fight them in the wild? It’s a good thing you didn’t run into them, or the consequences would have been unimaginable!” In Victor’s view, Lilia’s choice had been terrible.

Dire animals were tough, strong, fast, and intelligent. Sending these ordinary guards to face five dire wolves in the wild at once was sending them to their deaths. They wouldn’t even be able to lock onto the dire wolves with their crossbows.

“Victor, I’m sorry. I was just so worried about you,” Lilia said, her eyes turning red with grievance.

“My lord! Please punish me. It was I who advised Lady Lilia to take all the guards to find you,” Moline chimed in, stepping forward anxiously.

That was the root of the problem. Victor’s personal safety was of paramount importance to these people; it was directly tied to their own lives and fortunes. That was why they would risk their own lives to ensure their lord’s safety.

“Moline, what is the construction progress on the village?” Victor fell silent for a moment before asking.

“My lord, the double-layered fence for the village is complete. We are now digging the moat. We estimate it will take another five days before we can start building the watchtowers,” Moline replied quickly.

“However, the villagers are all resting in the camp right now, because the danger hasn’t been cleared.”

Victor nodded. Old Ham, accompanied by Reno, had gone to investigate the whereabouts of the dire animals. Everyone was waiting for the latest news, and all Victor could do was play dumb.

“Linda, since these freemen came to us for refuge, we should provide them with security. When faced with the threat of dire wolves, why were you willing to stay in the freemen’s settlement rather than let them come up here for shelter?”

Victor’s question made the few people in the office look at each other. After a moment, Linda hesitated and said, “My lord, those freemen are filthy and they stink. They go days without bathing and relieve themselves wherever they please, so… I was afraid they would dirty our camp.”

Seeing the group leaders and Lilia nodding in agreement, Victor was furious. He sneered, “Working with these stinking freemen every day must be so hard on you all.”

“Not at all, not at all!” Group leader Dean fawned with an obsequious smile.

Victor shook his head helplessly. His subjects, both in habit and in mindset, were now vastly different from those freemen. Moreover, Hill Camp was the home they had built with their own hands. Who would allow a large group of strangers to take refuge in their home? Not to mention that vassals were naturally exclusive.

“Linda, how many freemen have sought refuge with us now?” Victor continued.

“We have taken in over six hundred freemen. We don’t have an exact number because people arrive every day and occasionally some leave, like the seventeen who just left the camp,” Linda explained in detail.

Victor nodded. Since he had promoted Linda to magistrate, she had been truly conscientious. This time, she had held her post even in the face of danger. Victor had seen it all, even if it was just a misunderstanding.

“How dare these freemen leave the settlement? Aren’t they afraid of dying out there?”

Victor was perplexed by the freemen who had left of their own accord.

“My lord, although this is a Pioneer Fief, there are very few monsters in the territory. Especially since we’ve cleared the area several times, it’s been confirmed that there are no monsters or beastmen active near the camp. Besides, most of the freemen who left were wildmen; they know very well how to survive in the wilderness. In fact, this riot was a conflict between the ordinary freemen and the wildmen,” Linda explained.

“Wildmen? You mean the freemen are divided into groups? Tell me more.” Linda’s words immediately piqued Victor’s interest.

“My lord, wildmen are freemen whose families have lived in the wild for generations. They aren’t like us farmers who lost our land. They’re especially savage and fierce,” one of the group leaders explained to Victor, curling his lip in disdain at the mention of wildmen.

It was only then that Victor understood. The wildmen were the true freemen. They were already accustomed to a life of freedom and weren’t particularly concerned about becoming subjects. Those who lived by hunting and gathering were also known as mountain folk.

“Were the assailants mountain folk? Have they been caught?” Victor asked Linda.

“The ones who attacked were mountain folk. They’ve been apprehended. They retaliated because they were being ostracized,” Linda replied.

“Hmph. The root cause of this riot was the weak defenses of the temporary settlement, which made the freemen feel insecure. Therefore, I’ve decided to halt construction of the village! You group leaders, your next task is to lead the villagers and freemen to fortify the temporary settlement. You are to dig a moat, build at least one Iron-oak palisade, and erect four watchtowers inside,” Victor ordered.

“You must understand, we need time to convert these freemen. For certain unavoidable reasons, we absolutely cannot let these people wander off, especially not to the eastern part of the territory. Is that clear?”

Seeing his group leaders nodding but looking somewhat unconcerned, Victor had to add this. He had to prevent the freemen from being used by his eastern neighbors to undermine him.

Although Victor had effectively given up the eastern territory, Flatlake Village and the Chepman family’s camp remained like two thorns in his throat, making him extremely uncomfortable. And now there were signs that Village Head Dick and Bayr, whom he had appointed, had already compromised.

“Understood!” Hearing the raised tone in Victor’s voice, the group leaders were startled into attention.

“Linda, draw up a list of twenty freemen who can be promoted. Tomorrow, I will publicly grant them the status of subjects and, at the same time, publicly execute the assailants,” Victor said coldly. To stabilize the situation now, a sense of security and a mix of benevolence and authority were indispensable.

“My lord, Old Ham and Reno are back!” a guard outside the office announced loudly.

“Old Ham, what’s the situation?”

Seeing Old Ham and Reno walk in, Victor asked with a deceptive air of concern, when in fact he was the mastermind behind it all.

“My lord, it seems to have been a misunderstanding. I found a few human footprints near those wolf prints. They were probably mountain folk out hunting with their hounds. These hunters may have been carrying dire animal dung with them, which is why the Tiku hounds mistook those hounds for dire wolves,” Old Ham explained respectfully to Victor.

“Old Ham, how can you be sure they weren’t dire wolves? You can’t be wrong about this!” a group leader couldn’t help but ask.

“When have you ever seen five dire wolves appear at once? And walking with people? Besides, they headed west and are now more than sixty kilometers from the camp. I’m not mistaken this time!” Old Ham said, a little annoyed at being questioned.

“Old Ham, thank you for your hard work. I’ll have Lilia compensate you with one thousand work points.”

Victor felt quite apologetic toward Old Ham. The old herdsman treasured his Tiku hounds dearly. This time, for Victor’s safety, he had painfully sacrificed two of them and had even risked his own life to come to Victor’s aid.

“My lord, I don’t want work points. I have only one request,” Old Ham said, bowing hastily to Victor. “If those mountain folk come to seek refuge with us, I would like to have two… oh, no, one of those hounds. My lord, they were truly massive!”

“That day will come, I promise you,” Victor said, nodding at Old Ham, then raised his voice. “Since it was a false alarm, everyone get back to work as I’ve instructed!”

————————

After everyone had left the office, Victor took a sip of this world’s unique “coffee.” The beverage, which had an affinity for the fire element, refreshed his Spirit.

This incident had shown Victor a problem. Hill Camp seemed to be on the right track, thriving and prosperous on the surface, but in reality, it was strong on the outside and weak on the inside.

The problem lay with the territory’s middle management. The people Victor had promoted, like him, had no experience in managing a fief. The moment he was gone, everything descended into chaos.

Victor didn’t believe other lords had the same problem. Otherwise, how could a fief be passed down through generations?

Originally, Victor had planned to use Alchemical humans to control the freemen, but their low emotional intelligence made them completely unsuitable for the task. Therefore, he had to design a new, effective system to ensure the fief’s operation; otherwise, its development would be constrained.

The subjects’ fear of dire animals had also given Victor an idea. Perhaps he could use it to his advantage and put some pressure on those two thorns in his throat.

For this, Victor already had a plan.

Chapter 64: Lions? Or Hyenas?

Amber Street was located in the northwest corner of Black Fortress Town. This long, narrow street was the meeting point of the town’s slums and the vassals’ district. It was densely populated, a chaotic mix of all sorts of people, and the Goat Tavern was situated at its northern end.

The residents of Amber Street all knew that since Old John had taken over the Goat Tavern, business had been surprisingly bad. It wasn’t just because the Goat Tavern didn’t hire waitresses to attract customers. According to the old drunks who had patronized the place, the atmosphere inside the tavern always felt strange when they were drinking. Whenever they got into high spirits and started shouting, they would inexplicably fall silent. An inadvertent glance from one of the old bartenders would always send a chill through their hearts. Over time, no one was willing to go there to get drunk anymore, even though the Goat Tavern’s drinks and food were genuinely cheap.

Because of this, the various shopkeepers on the street were all waiting for the day the Goat Tavern would go out of business, scheming how to take over the storefront at a low price.

But things were different now. The residents of Amber Street had all learned that the Goat Tavern had a powerful backer; a knight of the York family would kill in the street for them. Only then did the shopkeepers have a sudden realization. No wonder the former boss of Amber Street hadn’t dared to covet this property. Only a clueless hothead like Hooke would have been so reckless! And see? They had even lost their lives for it!

The chubby Boss Weyrich stood outside the rowdy Goat Tavern, somewhat caught in a dilemma.

Weyrich was considered a respectable man on Amber Street. Although he was also a freeman, his family had been scraping by in the towns of the Eastern Province for generations and had gradually accumulated a considerable fortune. Originally, Weyrich’s father had planned to use most of their wealth to secure the status of a vassal from the mayor, but a war had destroyed everything.

Weyrich’s family had no choice but to take their valuables and flee to the Pioneer Fief in the Centaur Hills, but his father died during the migration. After arriving in Black Fortress Town, Weyrich bought several storefronts on Amber Street and greased the palm of a squad leader in the town’s defense force. With his shrewdness and cunning, his business did quite well. Perhaps after a few more generations of accumulation, his children and grandchildren could once again look forward to the status of a vassal, but that was on the condition that his business continued to prosper.

For a businessman, shrewdness was essential to get rich, but the most important thing was to have a backer. Besides that, a stable environment was also necessary.

Amber Street connected the slums with the vassals’ district, so the residents’ spending power was decent. But public safety was a problem. Thieves, beggars, and swindlers would make people steer clear of the street. Therefore, order was very important!

The shopkeepers on Amber Street all detested those shadowy hyenas, but they couldn’t do without them. This was because they established the underlying order of Amber Street, allowing the shopkeepers to run their businesses in peace.

But now, there were no hyenas on Amber Street. Ever since the hyena Hooke was whipped to death by that beautiful female knight, no new hyenas had come to take over this territory, because now there was a pride of lions.

This wouldn’t do. In just two short days, those jackal-like thieves had already begun to appear frequently. This caught the attention of the Amber Street residents, so they elected the fat Weyrich to talk to Old John—who else could they choose, since his business was the largest?

Weyrich gritted his teeth and pushed open the door to the Goat Tavern. Before he could even step inside, dozens of burly, well-built men stared over at him, making his scalp tingle.

“Isn’t this Boss Weyrich? What brings you to our humble establishment?” Seeing it was an old acquaintance, Old John said with a wide smile.

“Old John, oh, no, Boss John! Boss John!” The fat Weyrich wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and bowed to Old John. “I came to pay you a visit. Yes, yes, to pay a visit, a visit.”

“Then come on in.” Old John beckoned Weyrich further into the tavern.

Seeing that he was an acquaintance of Old John, the brawny men withdrew their intimidating gazes and began to talk and laugh loudly again.

“So, what can I do for you?” Old John gestured for Weyrich to sit on a bar stool and got straight to the point. He didn’t have time to beat around the bush with Weyrich; he wanted to hear more of the interesting news from the fief.

“Boss John, it’s like this. The neighbors wanted me to ask you when you plan to start collecting our protection money. You know, the streets aren’t very peaceful right now. If you set some rules for us, everyone’s willing to add twenty percent on top of the original amount. What do you think?” No longer the focus of those brawny men’s attention, Weyrich relaxed considerably and quickly stated his purpose.

Weyrich’s words stirred something in Old John’s heart. He smiled and patted Weyrich’s shoulder, saying, “Boss Weyrich, you head back first. My men and I are discussing this matter right now. We’ll be sure to give the neighbors an answer. We’re all old neighbors, after all. The protection money and all that can be discussed.”

“Yes, yes, yes, we’re all old neighbors. We’re all counting on you, Boss John,” Weyrich said, nodding his head obsequiously, as if Old John, who had only been here for a few months, was truly his old neighbor of many years.

“Wait!”

Just as Weyrich was preparing to leave the tavern, a deep, powerful voice stopped him. Although the voice wasn’t loud, Weyrich felt his body tremble slightly as it washed over him, like being struck by a giant bell.

“Boss Weyrich. My name is Narsen. I’d like to buy you a drink.” A powerfully built man walked over to Weyrich.

When this man spoke, the tavern hall fell silent. Everyone’s gaze turned back to Weyrich, who immediately understood that this man named Narsen was the true leader.

Soon, an oak mug slid down the bar to Weyrich. Suppressing the panic in his heart, Weyrich looked down and saw the mug contained about half a cup of wine.

The drink was reddish and somewhat cloudy, with some purplish, flaky sediment. It looked like half a cup of low-quality local brew. Weyrich frowned; given his wealth, such a crude drink was beneath his notice. But with a hundred pairs of burning eyes fixed on him, Weyrich could only pick up the mug and drain it in one gulp. Only after it was down did he suddenly realize that the crude wine wasn’t sour, bitter, or harsh as he’d expected. Instead, it was unusually fresh, smooth, and sweet, with a hint of tartness—a surprisingly rare vintage.

“I didn’t quite get the taste. Another cup.” The fat Weyrich licked his thick lips, his eyes shining as he spoke to Old John. The business opportunity contained within this crude wine gave him a surge of courage, and his true colors—valuing money over his life—were on full display.

Narsen nodded at Old John, who had no choice but to reluctantly refill half a cup for Weyrich.

This time, Weyrich leaned in first, took a deep sniff from the cup, then closed his small eyes and took a tiny sip.

“Good wine!” After a long moment, Weyrich nodded in praise.

“Boss Weyrich, how much do you think this wine could sell for per cup?” Narsen asked, staring intently at Weyrich.

“This wine… it’s smooth and delicate, sweet with a hint of tartness, not bitter or astringent. It’s a pity the appearance is a bit poor, and it’s a bit under-aged. I estimate it could sell for forty Copper Sols a cup. If it were aged in a cellar for another two years, the price could double.” Weyrich shook his head with great regret.

“My lord, you see, I have a tavern and an inn in Black Fortress Town. If you would let me be the agent for this wine, I am willing to offer this amount.” Weyrich had already deduced Narsen’s status from the noble sigil on his leather armor. His eye for detail was quite good.

“No rush. You can go back for now. Come back tomorrow and talk to Old John,” Narsen said impassively.

Narsen had no idea what the hand gesture Weyrich used for the price meant, so he simply asked the fat boss to leave. He needed to do some calculations.

“My lord, this price isn’t low! And, I can let you in on a secret: I have connections to sell the wine in Redleaf Town. You must consider it. Please, consider it!”

Even as he was being pushed backward by Old John, the fat Weyrich shouted loudly at Narsen until he was shoved out of the tavern.

Narsen was in no mood to deal with the fat boss right now. He paced back and forth in the tavern excitedly, muttering under his breath.

“Thirty-six Copper Sols equals one Silver Sol. Forty Copper Sols is one Silver Sol and four Copper Sols. A barrel of Purple Cane wine is about six hundred cups. There are forty-four barrels here, so how many cups is that? Hmm?”

“Stop drinking! Everyone, do the math! How much money can we make this time?” Narsen saw his subordinates were busy drinking and flew into a rage, bellowing loudly.

Seeing Narsen lose his temper, the dozens of guards immediately put down their wine cups, and each one began to count on their fingers.

“Chief! I’ve got it!” Before long, the one-eyed Gru was the first to stand up.

“How much can we make?” Narsen asked hurriedly.

Everyone stared at Gru. His face flushed red, and after a long moment, he shouted, “We can make lots and lots of money!”

“Get lost!”

A barrage of wine cups, meat bones, and even boots knocked Gru under the table. Wait! Where did the boots come from?

After a round of laughing and cursing, Old John said, “Narsen! Don’t get too excited. How do you plan to sell this wine?”

“Sell it here at the Goat Tavern?” Narsen said, scratching his head.

“How long would that take? Business at our tavern is dead. It’s all Old John’s fault. We told him to hire some big-assed waitresses, but he couldn’t even manage that!” an old mercenary complained angrily, banging the table with the iron hook on his arm.

“Exactly! Old John, you open a tavern without any waitresses, forcing us to go to other taverns for some fun!” Gru poked his head out from under the table and whined, only to be knocked back under again.

“Can you blame me? I hired several big-assed women to be waitresses, but after a few days, they all wanted to quit! They even told me the tavern was unbearably cold! I was baffled. The hearth has never gone out, so how could it be cold? Later, I figured it out. Other men stare at a woman’s chest and ass, but you old geezers just stare at their necks! What, are you thinking about where to stick a knife? How could they not be scared?” Old John stuck out his neck and cried foul.

Narsen sighed and shook his head. He knew the old mercenaries’ habits. Years of killing had made them cold and merciless, and they would subconsciously size up people’s vital spots. And unlike the younger, hot-blooded mercenaries, the old ones weren’t that interested in women. Letting this group of bloodthirsty, grim-faced men run a business—it would be a miracle if they got any customers.

“Old John, after we sell all the Purple Cane wine this time, you all should come back to the fief with us. There are more and more people in our camp now, and Lord Victor needs you to train the new household guards,” Narsen said to Old John and the others.

The eleven old mercenaries looked at each other, all remaining silent, just drinking their wine sullenly.

“We failed the mission Lord Victor gave us. How can we have the nerve to go back and ask My Lord for those ten mu of land?” one old mercenary said, voicing their thoughts.

“Narsen, don’t we mercenaries hope to one day be recruited by a lord and given the status of a vassal? Now we’ve all been recruited by Lord Victor, so we’ve finally made it ashore, so to speak. But us old geezers, we botched My Lord’s business! Even if My Lord forgives us on account of you, Bear of the Northlands, will those young lads be convinced? How will that reflect on the people of our War Bear Company in Lord Victor’s eyes?” This time, being made a fool of by the hyenas had left Old John feeling indignant.

“What do you plan to do?” Narsen said coldly. “Lord Victor specifically instructed me not to cause trouble. This time, after we sell the wine, we still need to purchase some salt and flour, some crossbow bolts and axes, and finally, we need to recruit at least twenty women to take back. If you want me to get revenge on that Barol for you, just forget it!”

“We didn’t lose out, so what’s there to talk about revenge? But, if we want to sell the wine and recruit women, we absolutely have to get rid of Barol!”

“Why?” Narsen asked flatly.

“Because Barol is a hyena. He’ll have his eyes on our Purple Cane wine. Plus, he controls more than half of the flesh trade in Black Fortress Town. Only by getting rid of him and taking his place can we complete the mission My Lord gave us. And that way, the secret agent mission won’t be a failure either!”

————————

In the rest area of the magistrate’s office, Shax was silently circulating his Aura. This was his habit, one he hadn’t broken in the more than ten years since awakening his knight’s talent.

Aura permeated his body. Eleven Elemental Nodes resonated one by one, but the final earth element node remained completely still.

Shax sighed and stopped circulating his Aura. He was already thirty-four years old. His Elemental Nodes had solidified, making it impossible for him to ever advance to become a true Knight. This wasn’t because Shax wasn’t diligent enough, but because his knight’s bloodline was impure. His grandmother had been an ordinary person. Moreover, he had a relatively rare affinity for the wind element, which made advancement even more difficult.

Shax had no knight’s manor, nor did he receive a knight’s stipend from his family. Therefore, the position of magistrate was crucial to him. In this position, he could skim two thousand Gold Sols in extra income each year. This money was enough to allow his family to live a prosperous life.

I handled the matter from two days ago perfectly. Nothing should go wrong, right? Shax thought to himself, feeling a little uneasy.

Knock, knock. The sound of knocking startled Shax from his thoughts. He asked loudly, “Who is it?”

“Lord Shax, My Lady summons you. Please come with me!”

A low voice sounded from outside the door. A flash of joy lit up Shax’s heart; he recognized the speaker as the steward of Rose Manor.

“Of course! I’m coming right now!”

Shax stood up, straightened his uniform, and after confirming there was nothing out of place, strode out of the room.

Chapter 65: A Tender Sweetness

Sylvia lounged lazily on a red willow wood chair, a captivating smile blooming on her gorgeous face. Her long legs were crossed, one fair, smooth hand propping up her cheek while the other toyed with an exquisite violet-gold cup. Her graceful, alluring body, set against a flawless white alpaca cushion, was the very picture of sensuality and temptation.

Such a casual posture hardly conformed to the etiquette of a noble receiving guests, yet on Sylvia, it exuded a natural nobility and elegance, making it impossible for anyone to harbor a single disrespectful thought.

“This so-called Purple Cane wine is brewed without a single redeeming quality. The liquid is turbid and reddish, with flocculent impurities. The sweet and sour taste completely masks the mellow aroma of the wine. Anyone with a bit of knowledge about wine can tell this is an inferior brew made with primitive methods. Wine like this will never gain the acceptance of the Nobility.”

“However, the raw material for this wine is of the highest quality. If I were to use this ingredient for brewing, I would choose the fourth method from the Spire’s vinicultural arts. After steaming the ingredients, I would collect the dew from white fern leaves, add marigolds, and after a year of aging in the cellar, the resulting wine would be golden in color with a fragrant, smooth, and mellow taste. It could absolutely stand comparison with the Dumu wine of the Borrey United Kingdom.”

A well-dressed gentleman was speaking eloquently to Sylvia. He was Anthony York, the York family’s intendant and a scholar from the Spire.

“A pity that these boorish freemen have no idea how to brew wine. They have completely wasted such a top-tier ingredient,” Anthony said, shaking his head with a sigh as he looked at the Purple Cane wine in his hand.

“Anthony, then tell me, the family has been developing the Centaur Hills for three years now. Why didn’t any of you discover that Purple Cane is a top-tier brewing ingredient?” Master Edwin, who was seated to one side, asked coldly.

Hearing the master’s sharp question, Anthony faltered for a moment. He bowed to Edwin and said, “Tutor Edwin, from the moment the family entered the Centaur Hills, I tried to brew wine with Purple Cane. I experimented with five different methods, but all I produced was sweet water. It was only then that I concluded Purple Cane couldn’t be used for wine. I never imagined that the Purple Cane dregs would be the top-tier ingredient for brewing.”

“That you think the ‘boorish freemen’ discovered that Purple Cane dregs could be used for brewing… is such an outcome not enough to make you admit that the wisdom and skills of the freemen are also worthy of being recorded?” Edwin said, a hint of pain in his voice. The fact that a descendant of the family who had once studied history with him was unwilling to support his views left the old scholar feeling deeply helpless.

“Tutor, knowledge is about inheritance and study. The freemen may have some minor cleverness, but they don’t understand how to research the essence of a problem. The little tricks they invent are fragmented and disorderly, of little practical value. The knowledge we record and study at the Spire is systematic. Furthermore, our energy is limited. A single scholar cannot possibly master the entirety of the Spire’s existing knowledge reserves. Who would abandon a pearl for a grain of sand?”

Although Edwin was a scholar and master whom Anthony respected, he could not agree with the old scholar’s fanciful and impractical ideas.

“Besides, as far as I know, the freemen’s use of Purple Cane dregs for wine this time was a complete coincidence. It was because Baron Victor has a fondness for Purple Cane juice. The leftover dregs from his juicing were used by his subjects by chance, which led to the invention of Purple Cane wine. Of course, as for Baron Victor’s fondness for consuming Purple Cane, I will offer no comment on such an undignified practice,” Anthony added.

Hearing this, Edwin couldn’t help but roll his eyes. And you call that “no comment”?

“The heart of the matter isn’t the Purple Cane wine, but the fact that authority and dogma have blinded us! It’s precisely because the lords believed your conclusion that the Purple Cane in the Centaur Hills was all cut down. You must understand, our Silver Spire has not produced any new academic achievements in nearly two hundred years, while the Church’s monasteries are constantly progressing. They recently invented a feed formula to improve the stamina of their mounts. Now, the Church’s cavalry can march at least a quarter farther each day than ours…”

“Alright, Uncle Edwin, what I want to know is, can we cultivate Purple Cane?”

Sylvia interrupted the old scholar’s passionate speech. Compared to the internal strife of the Spire, she was more interested in the Purple Cane. After all, a bottle of Dumu wine from the Borrey United Kingdom was worth twenty Silver Sols, and the highest quality Dumu could fetch up to fifty Gold Sols a bottle. This was an immense fortune no one could ignore.

“Cultivation is certainly possible, but Purple Cane seeds develop extremely slowly. Our research has found that it might take fifteen years for a Purple Cane to mature. However, Purple Cane has another method of propagation. Their roots are interconnected, meaning one mature Purple Cane can sprout an entire patch within its root range. It also has another interesting characteristic: if a mature Purple Cane is cut down, it will rapidly grow back to a height of three meters within a year.”

Edwin paused here, recalling that Victor had once asked him about the proper way to harvest Purple Cane and had strictly required his subjects to follow that method. Could it be that the boy knew the value of Purple Cane all along?

“Therefore, for the Purple Cane to recover to a sustainable scale, I estimate it will take forty years,” Edwin said, suppressing the doubt in his heart.

“In that case, Anthony, please tell me, is there still value in the Purple Cane wine from Victor’s fief?” Sylvia nodded and asked the intendant.

“My Lady, although this Purple Cane wine is of poor quality, with filtering, distillation, and at least three years of cellaring, I am confident I can create a new top-tier type of wine. This new wine will have the sourness removed, retaining a faint sweetness, and its color will be a light purple. As long as it gains acceptance in high society, it can certainly be sold at the price of Dumu wine,” Anthony said respectfully to the Countess.

“My Lady, I believe we could purchase the Purple Cane from Baron Victor. This would give us a much larger profit margin,” the intendant suggested to Sylvia.

“I have my own plans for Baron Victor’s fief. Anthony, you may leave,” Sylvia said coolly.

“Yes, My Lady.”

Anthony bowed to the Countess and to Edwin before turning to leave.

“My Lady, Lord Shax has arrived.”

Just as Anthony left, an attendant announced from outside the door.

“Sylvia, I’ll be going. I hope you can give little Victor some time. He is the lord most closely connected to the common people I have ever seen. Perhaps he will bring us more inspiration.”

Seeing that Sylvia was about to receive the magistrate, Edwin took his leave.

“I will, Uncle Edwin,” Sylvia said to the old scholar with a smile.

Led by the attendant, Shax came before the stunning and captivating Countess. She was still in that same casual, languid pose, but her words sent a cold sweat down his back.

“Shax, you have greatly disappointed me! You couldn’t even handle such a small matter?”

“My Lady, I…” Shax wiped the sweat from his brow. He racked his brain but couldn’t think of any oversight he’d made.

“Do you have the brain of a pig? Baron Victor’s guards had just arrived in Black Fortress Town when they happened upon you arresting the Baron’s secret agent. Are you afraid people won’t see through such a coincidence?” Sylvia’s lovely face was as cold as ice.

“My Lady, it was my lack of foresight. However, they don’t suspect me. I received word that Old John is asking about Barol. They are definitely preparing to make a move.”

Shax knelt on one knee and spoke in a rush.

“Hmph! You can only count yourself lucky that the Baron’s guards are a group of mercenaries unskilled in strategy. Make sure there are no more mistakes in what follows. Otherwise, you can forget about being magistrate!” With a quick turn of her thoughts, Sylvia understood the crux of the matter.

“My Lady, please rest assured. Baron Vilpan’s steward is in Black Fortress Town, and I’ve already made arrangements for that gang leader, Barol. When the time comes…”

“Enough! I don’t care how you do it, I only look at the result! Go and make the arrangements!” Sylvia said impatiently.

“Yes, My Lady. I shall take my leave, then,” Shax said, breathing a sigh of relief as he stood up.

“Also, I want five-tenths of the Purple Cane wine from Victor’s fief. Understood?” Sylvia instructed.

“I understand!”

Shax bowed to Sylvia and backed out of the room.

“Sylvia, do you really need to personally attend to such a small matter?”

After Shax had left, a cold, delicate female voice came from behind a curtain, and a woman stepped out from behind it.

She had a head of lustrous black hair that fell casually over her shoulders. Her figure was petite and exquisite, yet her curves were beautifully proportioned. Her features were delicate but with a hint of immaturity. Paired with her fair, dewy skin, she was clearly a young lady of sixteen or seventeen. However, her temperament was as cold as ice, a look that kept everyone at a distance. Yet, the magnificent Mithril armor she wore indicated she was at least a Silver-rank Great Knight.

“Trisley, I was originally just a little interested. But now, the unripe fruit has developed a sweet and delicious flavor. I can’t help but want to eat him up,” Sylvia said with a languid stretch, giggling.

“Is it just because of the Purple Cane wine?” Seeing the breathtaking curve her supple silk dress traced as Sylvia stretched, a hint of jealousy flashed in Trisley’s eyes.

“You’ve been waiting here for a long time. It was to talk to me about Nicole, wasn’t it?” Sylvia said softly, unwilling to discuss Victor any further with others.

“Nicole is my retainer knight, and she is now a Knight, having been promoted through the Trial of Life and Death. In that process, she must have sensed the Elemental Sea. Even if her knight’s bloodline is not pure, there is no doubt she can advance to Silver-rank,” Trisley said with a nod.

“Therefore, I hope you will grant her the treatment of a family knight: a manor, a fief of five thousand mu, a village, and an annual knight’s stipend of three thousand Gold Sols. I have already thought of a new name for her. It shall be…”

“She refused,” Sylvia said coolly before Trisley could finish.

“Nicole only asked for the position of a personal handmaiden for her mother. She is willing to serve the family for another ten years with the status of a retainer knight, after which she will leave the family.”

“Why?”

“Go and ask her yourself.”

After Trisley had stormed out in a huff, Sylvia picked up the violet-gold cup. She gazed at the steaming coffee within, and in her eyes, the coffee seemed to gradually take on Victor’s elvenly handsome face. A bewitching smile touched Sylvia’s lips as she raised the cup and took a sip.

“Purple Cane, coffee, and Swiftbirds… Victor, I look forward to you bringing me even greater surprises! And… thinking of luring away my knight won’t be that easy!”

————————————————————————

Outside the Magistrate’s Office in Black Fortress Town, a thin, plainly dressed old man with a pained expression was keeping a constant watch on the movements inside. He was Barol, the gang leader of Black Fortress Town.

Barol waited anxiously outside the Magistrate’s Office. He was waiting for an audience with the magistrate, Lord Shax.

A guard walked over to Barol. Without a word, he gave the gang leader a meaningful look. Barol immediately followed the soldier into the Magistrate’s Office.

“My lord, good day!”

In a hidden room within the office, Barol met with the powerful magistrate of Black Fortress Town.

“Barol, how are the arrangements for the matter I entrusted to you?” Shax asked in a low voice. The hyenas of Black Fortress Town all lived and died by his whim; there was no need for pleasantries.

“My lord, Baron Vilpan’s steward is currently set up in a private residence, but I can’t hold him for too long. This time, he wanted me to get rid of Baron Victor’s secret agent and gave me one hundred Gold Sols for expenses. After the mission failed, he demanded I give him four hundred Gold Sols back. I suspect the son of a bitch pocketed the bounty from Baron Vilpan. Now he wants to return the money to the Baron, so he’s trying to get it from me. I’ve managed to stall him for now. But he’s given me two days to get the money to him, because he has to return to the Vilpan Fief in three days,” Barol said in a low voice, leaning close to Shax.

“Within a day or two, Baron Victor’s people will make their move. You must not let Vilpan’s steward leave that private residence! If you mess up my business, you know the consequences,” Shax said coldly.

“My lord, rest assured. He absolutely will not leave within two days. I’ve prepared a pair of sister-flowers for him. He’s having a grand old time right now. However…”

Barol hesitated for a moment before continuing, “My lord, I heard from Vilpan’s steward that his lord is a cousin of Her Majesty the Queen, with a powerful background. You see, if I scheme against him like this, will I…”

“Relax, it’s not like you’re the one killing him! The blame will never fall on you. After it’s done, just lay low for a while. Once the storm passes, who will remember a small fry like you?” Shax said disdainfully.

“For the next two days, you need to be seen entering and leaving that private residence frequently. Post more men there to watch over it, make people mistake it for your home. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord, I will do as you say.”

“Remember, I won’t reward you, but you get to keep your life! So, don’t get any funny ideas! Go.”

Looking utterly dejected, Barol slowly walked out of the Magistrate’s Office. But after he turned into a small alley, his murky eyes grew profound.

Chapter 66: Schemes and the Gap

The sky was gradually darkening, and the number of pedestrians on Amber Street began to dwindle. It was too close to the slums, and going out at night was never very safe. The constables rarely patrolled this street after dark.

The few taverns and inns on the street, however, were brightly lit, with the sounds of men’s laughter and women’s screams drifting out from time to time.

The Goat Tavern was also brightly lit, but its main door was shut tight, with four burly men standing guard at the entrance, their arms crossed. Any passerby could feel their sharp gazes, and so they all detoured to the other side of the street.

“Lord Barol has many places to stay in town. He usually picks a place to sleep at random. Recently, he took in a pair of sisters, so for the past two days, he’s been enjoying himself at his private residence at 14 Walnut Street.”

“However, he always has more than twenty thugs with him, including some hardened fighters. They also have two crossbows.”

A pale-faced young man spoke as he drew on an oak table.

“You’re one of Barol’s men. How do we know you’re not lying to us?” an old mercenary said grimly. Mercenaries survived in battle by relying on the shoulders and backs of their comrades; they always detested and despised traitors.

“There’s no need to doubt him. Monkey isn’t lying,” Narsen interjected.

Narsen was in a foul mood. After a long talk with the magistrate of Black Fortress Town, he had learned a great deal.

Barol’s backer was a steward of Baron Vilpan’s family. The scheme targeting the Goat Tavern wasn’t because of Old John’s negligence but was personally orchestrated by the Vilpan family’s steward.

Furthermore, during the last recruitment of freemen, it was also the Vilpan family’s steward who had people spread the word that Lord Victor had no knights under him and was not worth pledging allegiance to. If Lord Victor hadn’t raised the banner of Knight Bruce, they would never have been able to recruit enough subjects.

As for why the Vilpan family’s steward would do such a thing, Narsen was also well aware.

Victor had once mentioned to Narsen that he had lost his family’s support because he had offended the Prince’s Faction, and Baron Vilpan was a member of that very faction.

If they didn’t sever the Vilpan family’s claws in Black Fortress Town, they could forget about selling the territory’s Purple Cane wine in peace. If they could frame them for murder this time, then next time, someone would surely die of poisoning after drinking Purple Cane wine.

Barol had to die!

“Monkey! Are you sure we don’t need to wipe out all of Barol’s men?” Narsen asked the young man.

“My lord, in our line of work, whoever has a backer is the boss. As long as Lord Barol is dead, his men will listen to the new chief. After all, we need to eat too,” Monkey said with a hint of excitement, knowing he would soon be able to take Lord Barol’s place.

As expected, Narsen fell silent for a moment before asking, “If we put you in this position, how will you prove your loyalty?”

“My lord, to be honest, people like us have no such thing as loyalty. We’re like rags. When we get dirty, we’re replaced. So, the lords don’t need our loyalty.”

Monkey’s confession left the mercenaries in a collective silence.

“My lord, if you support me, I’ll listen to you. If you don’t support me, I’ll die in a gutter,” Monkey added nervously.

“How can you, alone, make Barol’s men listen to you?” Old John pressed.

“My lord, the position of chief isn’t about who has the biggest fists. It only takes a single word from the lord magistrate. Whether the magistrate will speak for me depends entirely on your influence,” Monkey said, bowing his head respectfully.

“Monkey, after you take over, I need you to handle three things well. First, keep an eye on the Purple Cane wine business and don’t let anyone cause trouble. Second, pay attention to any rumors concerning our Lord Victor’s domain, and report to the Goat Tavern as soon as you hear anything. Third, help us recruit women—at least forty within two months. Can you do it?” Narsen laid out his terms.

“My lord, the first and second tasks are no problem. But for the third one, may I ask if you are looking for… hostesses?” Monkey asked cautiously.

“No. We have too many single men in our domain. The women we recruit are to be wives for our men.”

Hearing this answer, Monkey’s eyes lit up. He asked again, “Are women with children acceptable? And will they be granted the status of subjects?”

“Yes! And yes!”

Seeing how detailed Monkey’s questions were, Narsen showed a hint of appreciation. It meant Monkey wasn’t just giving him a perfunctory answer.

“Then it’s no problem. However, I can’t guarantee the numbers every time. That’s the truth,” Monkey said carefully.

“Just do your best. I won’t make things difficult for you. If there’s anything else, say it now.”

“It’s about the customary cut. The Magistrate’s Office takes fifty percent, and the brothers split the remaining fifty percent, so the lords don’t get a share. Also, if you, my lord, have any difficult matters that require my humble assistance, you’ll have to offer a reward,” Monkey said, gritting his teeth. His heart was in his throat, but these were the rules, and he had to make them clear.

“What? You operate under our name, but you want to take all the protection money for yourself? And you dare ask for a reward?” an old mercenary said, his eyes wide.

“My lord, we grunts rely on the Magistrate’s Office to eat. We have no choice but to give them their fifty percent. The remaining half is barely enough for my brothers to get by. We also have to deal with that Goldfinger gang, and we’ll inevitably have to fight with other gangs. We fight and risk our lives, but we wouldn’t dare trouble you, my lord. We will also do our utmost to handle the tasks you assign. These are just the rules right now, so…” Monkey hurriedly explained, his tone pleading.

“Alright, I understand. We’ll do it your way. You can draw twenty Silver Sols from here every month, and I’ll give you ten Silver Sols for every woman you recruit. Is that enough?” Narsen nodded in agreement.

Monkey had been introduced by the magistrate, who had already explained the inner workings to Narsen very clearly. The magistrate would support Monkey’s rise to power out of respect for Narsen, and Monkey would serve as the family’s agent in Black Fortress Town. Such agents were expected to support themselves. It was essentially an employment relationship; naturally, they had to be rewarded for carrying out tasks. As for loyalty, it truly wasn’t necessary.

“It’s enough, more than enough! Thank you, my lord, for this promotion!” Monkey said with a fawning smile. The matter was settled.

Narsen straightened up, scanned his subordinates, and said in a cold voice, “Everyone, gear up. We’re going to take out Barol!”

The guards immediately sprang into action. They donned their armor, took up their shields, checked their swords, and shouldered their crossbows. An aura of killing intent instantly filled the air.

“My lord, this… My lord, listen to me! According to the Magistrate’s rules, military equipment cannot be used in underworld disputes! My lord…” Seeing these burly men preparing as if for war, Monkey turned pale with fright and quickly tried to dissuade them.

Narsen ignored Monkey. His icy eyes still held a trace of anger. Magistrate Shax had bitten off a fifty percent share of the Purple Cane wine profits from him! The condition was that the York family would guarantee the smooth sale of Purple Cane wine in Black Fortress Town. Furthermore, no one from the Magistrate’s Office would intervene tonight!

“We’re rolling right over them!”

————————————

14 Walnut Street, one of Lord Barol’s private residences, was an exquisite two-story wooden house with a front and back yard. A house like this in Black Fortress Town was worth at least eighty Gold Sols.

This was the outer edge of the vassal district and also where Lord Barol entertained his distinguished guests. So, even though it was night, many fierce-looking men were still patrolling around the residence. Their hands were all in their pockets, concealing daggers. These were Barol’s most trusted thugs.

The sound of approaching footsteps in the distance caught the attention of these men. They warily retrieved longswords and short knives that they had hidden at the corners of the walls, exchanging glances. They had the appearance of a somewhat elite force.

One of the thugs took a torch from the wall and waved it up and down three times. This was their gang’s contact signal, meant to confirm if the approaching party were their own people.

Seeing no response from the group of figures opposite him, the thug braced himself and shouted, “This is Lord Barol’s territory! Which crew are you from?”

Thwip! Thwip! Two swift crossbow bolts pierced his body, sending him to the ground twitching. That was the response he received!

There were no helpless cries, no panicked escapes, not even any chaos. The remaining thugs all dropped their weapons and slipped away along the corners of the walls.

In truth, these desperate men did not lack the courage for a deadly fight, but that courage absolutely did not extend to confronting an army!

Were they joking? Crossbows, round shields, chainmail, and one-handed spears—these were standard-issue weapons! It was obvious that the men opposite them were soldiers!

Lord Barol was finished!

“These are the hardened fighters Monkey was talking about?” one of the old mercenaries mumbled, dumbfounded, as he watched their opponents disappear into the darkness one by one, like rats.

“Hardened fighters among hyenas,” Narsen said, rubbing his chin. He thought their retreat was clean and decisive, which wasn’t entirely without merit. After all, his men had never dealt with hyenas before. Mercenaries had limits on their activities within towns.

“Let’s go! Don’t let Barol get away!”

The group of fully armed guards swarmed the private residence.

A moment later, a woman’s half-scream came from the second floor, but it was quickly silenced.

Monkey and a dozen guards came out of the private residence.

“No mistake! It’s Barol!” Monkey said excitedly.

Narsen glanced at Old John, who was beside him.

“A man in his fifties, reeking of alcohol, sleeping like a log. He’s been dealt with. The two girls and three bodyguards with him all said it’s Barol. There’s no mistake,” Old John said in a low voice.

Narsen stood in the courtyard and scratched the back of his head. The operation had gone more smoothly than he’d expected. No resistance, no screams—it was as if this had happened countless times before!

Was this how the hyenas survived?

——————————————

“Is it done?” Shax asked Monkey, leaning back in his chair.

“My lord, it’s all done. Baron Vilpan’s steward was killed by Baron Victor’s guards! But they took the two women with them! Is that really okay?” Monkey reported respectfully.

“It’s fine. The two women always thought they were serving Barol. This is where that steward was clever—he never touched the pair of sisters and even disguised himself as one of Barol’s own men. He also scared them by saying Lord Barol dislikes women who ask too many questions.”

Shax sighed and asked again, “Do you know Barol’s fate?”

“My lord, I do not!”

“Barol was truly clever. He had secretly prepared another identity. Using that identity, he hid in the freemen’s shantytown to the east, planning to slip away alone. But he ended up dead. How do you think he died?”

“My lord, he died of being too clever!”

Monkey’s answer gave Shax a flicker of surprise. He smiled. “It seems you’re a clever man too!”

“My lord, I am not clever, but I am a man who understands,” Monkey replied, his head bowed in a subservient manner.

“Oh!? And what is it that you understand?”

“Whether I live or die is entirely up to you, my lord!” At this, Monkey’s posture became even more deferential.

“You really are a man who understands. Therefore, you may pay ten percent less on your protection money. If you run into any difficult opponents, I can have someone take care of them for you. But you must remember, serve the House of York with all your heart and soul. Do you understand?” Shax said, his voice cold as he stared at this man who “understood.”

“Yes, my lord! I will do as you say!” Monkey wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and hurriedly pledged his allegiance.

“By the way, my lord, should we silence Barol’s bodyguards?”

“No need! I never intended to silence anyone this time. That’s why I said Barol died of being too clever!” Shax said lightly.

The point was to let both families know what had happened! Besides, the York and Vilpan families were already on opposing sides. Even if Baron Vilpan knew the York family was behind it, he could only direct his anger at Victor. As for Baron Victor, did he have any other choice?

Watching Monkey back out of his office, Shax let out a soft laugh.

Although Shax was merely an apprentice knight, he held every move in Black Fortress Town firmly in his grasp. This was the middle echelon of a great family.

And what of Victor’s?

Chapter 67: First Awe, Then Grace

Three kilometers below Hill Camp lay a large encampment. This was the temporary settlement Victor had ordered built to accommodate the freemen who came to seek his protection.

The temporary settlement was of a decent size, about one square kilometer, and was sectioned into a residential area, a plaza, and a reservoir. However, the facilities within the camp were rather crude. The residential area to the right was filled with low-slung shacks, densely packed together. The camp’s perimeter was a simple fence made of clay and red pine branches. This fence was quite fragile; an ordinary farmer with tools could easily dig through it, so its only real function was to divide the areas.

To the left of the temporary settlement was the plaza. The ground here was flat and clean, and in one corner stood rows of tables and chairs—the dining area for the freemen.

Paul was in the dining area eating his breakfast, the root of a plant called a ground-potato. He carefully peeled back the charred black skin, revealing the steaming white flesh within. A fragrant aroma wafted up, and he smiled before taking a large bite.

Paul loved the taste of ground-potatoes. They were delightfully sweet, but most importantly, they could fill his stomach. A half-grown boy like him was always hungry.

In fact, Paul had dug up these ground-potatoes before, but the Mountain folk had told him that only wild boars could eat them. They claimed that if people ate them, they would get diarrhea or even die from poisoning.

So, when the temporary settlement offered them this food, everyone resisted. In the end, it took the esteemed village group leader eating one himself before they dared to try.

Later, the camp administrators told them that ground-potatoes were indeed toxic. Eating them raw or boiled would cause diarrhea, but after being sun-dried for three days, the toxicity would disappear. And when roasted, they became exceptionally fragrant and sweet.

Paul thought life in this camp was pretty good. At least here, he often got to eat wild boar meat. Back in the freemen’s camp, meat was always served first to the chief and his men.

“Paul, don’t eat so much you’re stuffed. We have to go out and work in a bit.”

The speaker was Wood, Paul’s father, an honest and simple farmer.

“Oh,” Paul replied, but he didn’t put down the ground-potato in his hand.

Wood shook his head, but the corners of his mouth turned up in a slight smile. He, too, was very satisfied with life here. Not only could they eat their fill, but they also didn’t have to endure frequent beatings. Because of this, the father and son worked with exceptional diligence. The village group leader had already indicated that he would recommend them to become the Lord’s subjects, which meant they could move into Hill Camp.

“I hope nothing changes.”

Yesterday’s turmoil had left Wood a little worried. By this time of day, the village group leaders would have usually sent someone to call them to work, but today there was no-one.

Dong… dong… dong… Three slow, resonant chimes rang out from the plaza.

Wood and Paul looked up in surprise. Unlike the urgent peal of the warning bell from yesterday, this was the summoning bell. As former subjects of a lord, they were very familiar with the difference.

“Everyone, assemble in the plaza! My Lord wishes to see you!”

Several fully armed guards shouted the announcement throughout the camp.

Flanked by his guards, Victor stood on a high platform in the plaza, gazing down at the dense crowd below with a grim expression. Today, he had come to kill.

“My lord, everyone is here,” said Linda, the magistrate, dressed in leather armor with a longsword at her waist, speaking in a low voice to Victor.

Victor nodded, took a step forward, and raised his voice to the freemen below.

“Villagers! I am Victor Wimbledon, Baron, a lord of the Kingdom of Gambia, and the master of this land.”

Hearing their lord’s voice, the freemen below held their breath, their faces filled with awe.

“Although most of you are freemen, as the lord of this place, I have provided you with shelter and food, with protection and order,” Victor continued.

“But just yesterday, a small group of people in this very camp brazenly committed murder, inciting a riot that resulted in more than a dozen dead and injured.”

“Such an act endangered the safety of all of you and defied my will. This is a provocation against me. According to the laws of the Kingdom of Gambia, the murder of innocents is punishable by hanging! Men! Bring forth the murderers!”

At Victor’s command, several guards dragged three bound men forward.

Victor noticed that although the three men were being dragged by the guards, they were still struggling back and forth. It wasn’t that they refused to move, but they were unwilling to be held, and so they were shoved and pushed before Victor.

The prisoners were trussed up, their mouths gagged with knotted hemp ropes. Their bodies were covered in bruises and bloodstains, their faces swollen. They had clearly been taught a harsh lesson. Yet, their eyes remained fierce. They periodically scanned the observing crowd, showing no fear of their impending execution. Instead, they exuded a defiant and wild nature. These were the Mountain folk.

Physique 10, Spirit 8, Perception 9, Life 10. This was the data Victor collected from the leader of the Mountain folk.

These elemental attributes surprised Victor somewhat; they were already on par with the standards for an elite soldier.

Victor glanced at the data of the other two Mountain folk. It was about the same. An idea sparked in his mind, and he instructed a guard below, “Untie the ropes from their mouths.”

With the gags removed, a hint of delight appeared in the eyes of the three Mountain folk. At least now they had the right to defend themselves.

“You three murdered without cause. I sentence you to be hanged. Do you have anything to say?” Victor asked coldly.

“My Lord, we did not kill without reason! Those men stole my woman, that’s why we killed them,” the Mountain folk leader shouted.

“My lord, this man is lying,” Linda explained to Victor in a low voice. “His ‘woman’ was another freeman’s wife, whom he had taken by force. After they sought refuge in our camp, the woman returned to her husband. This Mountain folk man was furious, beat the couple multiple times, and was only pacified after our men gave him a harsh whipping. Who would have thought that this time he would lead his men to take advantage of the chaos, stab the husband to death, and kill another freeman who had stood up to them.”

For a woman again! Victor sighed inwardly. The male-to-female ratio among his subjects was severely skewed at eight to two. It wasn’t just these newly arrived freemen; even among his earliest subjects, conflicts over jealousy were frequent. That was why Victor had told Narsen to find a way to recruit more women.

“A woman you stole can be considered your woman? Even if she were yours, why did you not seek out the magistrate to handle it? Why did you instead take the opportunity to kill?”

Victor stared coldly at the Mountain folk man. He was determined to kill these three, but he also wanted to understand the difference between the Mountain folk and other freemen, as well as the management problems in the freemen’s settlement.

“My lord, that woman was with me, so she was mine! I gave her the best food, the best furs. What right does that weakling have to compete with me? We have lived like this for generations: the strongest man gets to pick the woman first.”

“When we came to this camp, the magistrate completely ignored our demands. He even let the women choose their men again. They have more people and know how to suck up to the group leaders. How could we possibly compete? We only killed because we were driven by anger!”

The Mountain folk leader hollered, which elicited a response from some of the other Mountain folk in the crowd. It was only then that Victor realized the freemen were clearly divided into two factions. The group on the left, though smaller in number, was clearly more formidable and robust, filled with a wild spirit. They were the Mountain folk among the freemen.

“What a load of crap! You Wildmen are lazy when it’s time to work, you snatch meat when it’s time to eat, and you’re always bullying people! Do you think you deserve our respect?” a village group leader couldn’t help but curse.

“Esteemed group leader, we may not be as good at farm work as you, but every one of us is a fine hunter. Whenever beasts attack, aren’t we the ones who drive them away? We are strong, so naturally we eat more. Besides, the camp is supposed to feed everyone until they are full,” another Mountain folk man retorted loudly.

“Nonsense! Even the dire wolves around here have been killed off. What beasts are you talking about? Just some wild boars that the militia drove away! As if we would let you drive them off!”

Victor now understood. These Mountain folk had originally been leaders among the freemen. After joining his camp, they still expected to lord it over the common farmers as they had before. The freemen of farmer stock, however, despised these domineering men, which naturally led to confrontation and ostracism.

“My lord, we followed your will and brought our men to join you. We originally thought we could at least become village group leaders, but instead, we are forced to do farm work like those refugees. But we truly don’t know how to farm! We are all first-rate hunters. They ostracized us. This time, that man insulted me first, which is why I hit him.”

“My lord, we are all stronger than those farmers. We should be soldiers, not farmers. We beg you to grant us justice!”

At the Mountain folk leader’s words, the other Mountain folk in the crowd began to clamor, each of them acting as if they had suffered a great injustice, when in reality they were just trying to secure more benefits for themselves.

The farmers on the other side, however, remained quiet. This was not just out of cowardice; they understood well that one must remain reverent before a lord, otherwise they would be driven away.

“Enough!” Victor’s sharp command immediately silenced the crowd.

“Murder is punishable by death! Since you feel you have been treated unfairly, I will give you a chance. I will send one of my guards to fight you bare-handed. If you can kill him, I will pardon your death sentence. Reno, you go!”

A savage glint appeared in Victor’s eyes. He whispered to Reno, “Leave no one alive!”

These Mountain folk had joined Hill Camp out of fear of Narsen’s iron-fisted methods, but they were defiant and belligerent, even trying to assert their own rules. They were courting death!

The ropes on the three Mountain folk were untied. Their leader confirmed that the big man opposite him was not Narsen. He cautiously asked Victor, “My lord, if we kill him, we will be pardoned?”

“You think you’re strong, don’t you? Then prove to me that you are truly valiant warriors. If you can kill him, you can become soldiers of my house and receive the status of a vassal.”

“Good!” The Mountain folk leader’s expression turned vicious.

“Everyone, attack!” the leader roared, and the burly Mountain folk immediately swarmed forward. They couldn’t believe that three of them couldn’t take down a single guard!

Reno bent his body low and charged at the approaching Mountain folk. He threw a straight punch. With a thunderous boom, the Mountain folk leader was sent flying backward even faster than he had charged, his sternum shattered. He lay on the ground, spitting up black blood, already dead.

It all happened too quickly. The other two Mountain folk hadn’t even realized their companion had been killed. They rushed to Reno’s side, and fists the size of bowls rained down on his head. With their physique, they could have beaten an ox to death!

But Reno was no ox. His seventeen points in Physique gave him immense strength and an incredibly resilient body, not to mention that his power had surged after activating the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form!

Reno ignored the fists landing on him. With a single movement of his body, the sound of cracking bones was heard. The two burly Mountain folk were thrown several meters away, their chests caved in, bleeding from all seven orifices, dead on the spot.

In a single exchange, the battle was over.

This crushing display was no surprise to Victor, but to the freemen watching, it was utterly shocking. The Mountain folk who had been so clamorous moments before were now silent with fear.

“Take them out and bury them,” Victor ordered faintly.

Several guards immediately dragged the three corpses away, while Victor addressed the stunned crowd in a loud voice.

“You are all freemen. But as long as you are in my territory, you must obey my will. This is the power granted to a lord by the Radiant Code. Anyone unwilling to obey me must leave this land.”

“Today, I executed three criminals. If any of you disagree with this, you are free to leave this camp now. That is also your right. But once you leave this camp, do not ever dream of becoming my subjects again!”

“Make your choice!”

As Victor finished speaking, the camp gates were opened. The Mountain folk exchanged glances. After a moment, a few of them were the first to leave the ranks and walk towards the gate. Soon, more and more followed, and before long, more than half of the Mountain folk had chosen to leave the camp.

In the end, only a small portion of the Mountain folk chose to stay, most of them elderly or weak. The young and strong had almost all chosen to leave.

“Very well. Those who have chosen to stay, you should consider yourselves fortunate! Just two days ago, my guards discovered traces of dire wolves. My guards have now driven them to the outskirts of the camp.”

Victor’s threat sent a stir through the camp. The freemen finally understood why the camp guards had left the day before—they had gone to hunt dire wolves.

“You need not worry about the camp’s safety. As long as you remain here, the guards will ensure your protection. I have also ordered a halt to the construction of the village so that we may first reinforce this temporary camp. As for those who chose to leave, I can only wish them good luck!”

The freemen fell silent. Reno’s overwhelming strength had led them to believe he was a Knight. With a Knight of his caliber standing guard, the dire wolves would surely not dare to venture near.

“And to the Mountain folk who have chosen to stay, I give you my word as your lord that you will be treated fairly. If you are ostracized or bullied, you may report it to the magistrate. As long as you work hard, I will grant you the status of my subjects.”

“Next, I will promote the twenty freemen with the most outstanding performance and grant them the status of subjects. They may move into Hill Camp to live under the protection of my house. They are…”

When Victor called the names of Wood and Paul, the father and son couldn’t help but embrace, tears streaming down their faces. Life as freemen had been a nightmare for them, and now, that nightmare was finally over.

Chapter 68: Whose Noose?

“My lord, we used to live in the mountains of the Chepman family’s territory,” the old Mountain folk man began, answering Victor’s questions with the utmost respect in the Hill Camp barracks. “We made a living by hunting, trading furs and medicinal herbs for daily necessities at the Chepman family’s villages.”

“Three years ago, more and more freemen started pouring into the Chepman lands. We took some of them in. Then, we were driven out by the Chepman family and had no choice but to drift into your territory.”

The matter at the temporary settlement had just been resolved. Victor, accompanied by Lilia, Linda, and a few village group leaders, had returned to the Hill Camp barracks and summoned this old Mountain folk man named Kunte.

Victor mulled this over for a moment before asking, “When the Chepman family’s household guard drove you out, had you started clearing land in the mountains?”

“Yes, my lord,” the old man replied, a hint of surprise in his voice. “We had taken in more and more people, and hunting was no longer enough to feed everyone. The newcomers began to farm.”

Victor nodded. Clearing land to farm was the very reason the Mountain folk had been expelled by the Chepman family.

The mountain terrain was complex and teeming with ferocious beasts, making survival difficult. However, the mountains were also rich in resources: all manner of furs, game, valuable herbs, delicious fungi, and more. The Mountain folk used these unique mountain goods to trade for cheap daily necessities from the Chepman family’s village heads. The Chepman family, in turn, earned enormous profits from this arrangement, which was why they tolerated these hardy Mountain folk living in their mountains.

But the moment the Mountain folk started farming, everything changed. Grain was the Chepman family’s means of controlling them. If the Mountain folk became self-sufficient, it meant the Chepmans would lose their grip on the mountains. Furthermore, the Mountain folk would grow stronger, which was something no lord could tolerate. Since the Mountain folk had now learned to farm, the Chepman family simply drove them all out to prevent them from becoming a future threat to their territory.

To a lord, any uncontrollable force within their territory was a threat. And Victor had such a threat of his own.

“Kunte, when you return to the temporary settlement, tell the Mountain folk that I plan to form a hunting party to deal with the wild boars in my territory. I’ll be choosing from you hunters. So, you don’t need to worry about being ostracized. You may go now.”

The wild boar population in his territory had become a plague. The greedy beasts ate anything and everything, not just the Purple Cane stalks, but they would even root them up to devour the roots. Victor decided it was time to control their numbers, protect the Purple Cane, and secure a source of meat in the process.

“I will return at once, my lord,” the old man said, a relieved smile spreading across his face. They weren’t good at farm work, but they were experts at hunting.

After the old man left, Lilia asked Victor, puzzled, “My lord, why did you drive away all those able-bodied Mountain folk today?”

Linda and the village group leaders all looked at Victor, sharing the same question.

“The rift between those Mountain folk and ordinary farmers is too deep. Keeping them would only cause trouble in the temporary settlement. Driving them off is simpler,” Victor replied with a smile.

The difference between Mountain folk and farmers was that one group was defiant and small in number, while the other was docile and numerous. Naturally, Victor preferred the docile farmers.

“But those Mountain folk are strong and fierce. With training, they could become qualified Guards. Isn’t it a pity to just drive them away?” Lilia, with her mercenary background, valued the Mountain folks’ strength more.

“The Mountain folk are indeed much stronger than ordinary farmers, but why do other lords not recruit them, instead choosing to raise soldiers from among the farmers?”

Before Lilia could answer, Victor explained, “Because the Mountain folk are too wild and have little reverence for a lord. No matter how strong such people are, they cannot be soldiers!”

“The most important qualities in a soldier are loyalty, obedience, and unity. Individual strength is secondary. How strong can a soldier be? Can they be stronger than an apprentice knight? You all saw what happened today. Those three Mountain folk were no match for Big Guy. Farmers may be a little weaker and more timid, but those things can be trained. What use are those disobedient Mountain folk to us?”

Victor’s words brought broad smiles to the faces of the village group leaders, who were all from farmer stock.

“No wonder the Mountain folk we War Bear Mercenaries recruited were always the first to die in battle. The ones who survived were always those who followed orders,” Lilia said, a look of realization dawning on her.

“My lord, will the Mountain folk we drove out become a problem for us? Perhaps they’ll seek refuge with Flatlake Village?” Linda asked worriedly.

“Don’t worry, those Mountain folk won’t escape the palm of my hand! As for them possibly going to Flatlake Village, let them. I have my own plans,” Victor said with brimming confidence. The dire wolf was just for show, but the Alchemical Warhounds that obeyed his every command were not.

As for Flatlake Village, it no longer posed a threat to him. With six Alchemical militia who were a match for apprentice knights, five Alchemical Warhounds, and Narsen, Victor had enough power to flatten the village. But he wouldn’t do that. He wanted to swallow Flatlake Village whole.

Lilia glanced at Victor’s hand. It was long and fair, perfectly proportioned—the most beautiful hand she had ever seen. But she certainly didn’t see any Mountain folk in his palm.

Victor didn’t notice Lilia’s confusion and said to everyone, “I will naturally deal with the Mountain folk who left. But the freemen who remain are mostly farmers from other domains. They’re familiar with estate affairs and are submissive to their lord. They are a force we must absorb. For now, under the threat of the dire wolf, they daren’t leave my protection, but we all know that’s just a bluff.”

At this, everyone laughed.

“Our territory is vast. Hill Camp alone cannot control it all. That’s why we need villages, and villages need these honest farmers. They know how to farm, how to log, and how to mine. With training, they can even become militia, or even Guards. So, the task of winning their hearts falls to you.”

The lord’s serious expression made everyone stop smiling. They could already sense their master’s dissatisfaction.

Victor turned to Linda and asked, “Linda, how do you punish the freemen who break the rules?”

“My lord, it’s usually whipping,” Linda replied with an air of authority. “For fighting, the one who threw the first punch gets ten lashes, the other gets three. For stealing, twenty lashes. For robbery, thirty lashes. For molesting a woman, forty lashes. For murder, they’re hanged. Oh, right, the murderer today was beaten to death.”

“From now on, for those who commit these offenses, change the punishment to one lash a day, until the full number is served,” Victor instructed.

“My lord, may I ask why?” Linda was reluctant. Her childhood experiences had filled her with a deep hatred for such villains.

“This is humane… alright, let me put it another way. If a man steals something and receives so many lashes at once, might he die? If he doesn’t die, can he still work? Not only can he not work, but he’ll need someone to take care of him, feeding and housing him for free, right? And once the pain from a single whipping fades, will he not commit the crime again?”

Victor’s string of questions left everyone’s heads spinning a little.

“One lash a day will make the criminals feel the pain every single day. That’s how they’ll learn their lesson. And they’ll still have to work to feed themselves. Do you all understand?”

“For those who refuse to learn, not only will they be whipped, but they will also be put in shackles. If they still don’t repent, then hang them or exile them,” Victor said coldly.

All people are social creatures; no one wants to be discriminated against and ostracized within a group. Shackles were also a form of psychological punishment. If even that didn’t work, then they would have to resort to traditional methods to solve the problem of crime.

“As you wish, my lord,” Linda said, now completely convinced.

“Also,” Victor continued, turning to the village group leaders, “when you lead these freemen in their work, would you say they pull their weight?”

“My lord, they work much better than the Mountain folk, but they’re still a far cry from us,” one group leader answered, his words earning nods of agreement from the others. It was clearly a common phenomenon.

“That’s natural. People who get free food and drink will be like that. That’s why they need to have private property,” Victor said with a nod and a smile.

The freemen at the temporary settlement were provided with food and protection by the camp. Their motivation to work was the hope of becoming one of his subjects, but Victor had no intention of increasing the monthly quota of twenty. Lowering the threshold would only cause bigger problems.

“My lord, should we give them money?” Moline asked cautiously.

“I have no money.”

Victor’s face was stern. He currently had less than three thousand Gold Sols to his name, making him a bona fide pauper lord.

“We will give them meat!”

“Meat?” Everyone’s expression was a picture as they imagined the temporary settlement’s shantytown, with reeking wild boar meat hanging everywhere.

Victor reached under the table and produced a box. From it, he pulled out a large handful of round wooden tokens, each with a number and a different color.

“These wooden tokens are meat. For those freemen who work hard, you will reward them with these tokens. They can take these to the mess hall and exchange them for meat. In the future, they’ll also be able to exchange them for clothes, boots, furs, and even Purple Cane wine,” Victor said with a proud flourish. This closed system of incentives would tie the freemen securely to him. Victor had been inspired to come up with this idea by the various point systems from his previous life on Earth.

“Also, starting today, the supply of free meat at the temporary settlement will be reduced,” Victor added shamelessly, aiming to increase the freemen’s demand for meat.

“Right, I will have the deputy group leaders listen to the freemen’s grievances during their monthly rotation. Any injustice or ostracism they suffer will be reported to me. So, for the sake of your positions as village heads, don’t disappoint me,” Victor stated coolly, giving the group leaders a sidelong glance. Implementing the token exchange system would inevitably grant the village group leaders more power, and Victor felt it was necessary to remind them of their place.

“My lord, I will certainly not disappoint you,” the group leaders said, their hearts tightening as they swore their commitment.

“All of you, go and see to your tasks,” Victor waved his hand, dismissing them.

Everyone took their leave one by one. Only Lilia remained. Victor asked, a little surprised, “Lilia, is there something you need?”

Lilia bit her rosy red lips, her large eyes blinking as she said expectantly, “My lord, can I see the palm of your hand?”

Baffled, Victor held out his hand. Lilia grabbed it and examined it carefully, even stroking it back and forth with her small hand before saying with some disappointment, “I don’t see anything special. Why won’t those Mountain folk be able to escape the palm of your hand?”

Lilia’s bewildered expression was exceptionally charming and lovely. A warmth spread through Victor’s chest. He leaned in and planted two kisses on her delicate little cheek, laughing as he said, “You can’t escape the palm of my hand either!”

With that, Victor laughed heartily and left the barracks, leaving Lilia alone, cupping her crimson face and stomping her feet.

——————————————————

“King, I’ve devised a plan to annex Flatlake Village. Help me analyze it and see if it’s feasible,” Victor asked the Tower Spirit in the Alchemy Tower.

“Based on the reconnaissance from the alchemical crows, I’ve confirmed that Bayr and Dick have reached a compromise. Although they are still paying me tribute, they are also taking in the scattered freemen.”

“So, my plan is to use the Alchemical Warhounds to blockade their camp and restrict their range of activity. They will soon face a food shortage. They will either have to ask me for help or be unable to pay their tribute. When that time comes, they will be at my mercy.”

With Flatlake Village currently paying its tribute on time, Victor had no real pretext to move against them. If they failed to pay, he would have a natural reason to subjugate them. Of course, Victor had no intention of actually slaughtering them; he wanted to absorb them entirely. If that Bayr was sensible, Victor wouldn’t be against taking him in.

“My lord, the probability of the Chepman family’s camp supporting Flatlake Village is over seventy percent,” the King transmitted to Victor.

“Why? I’ve temporarily given up on the eastern territories. What reason do they have to interfere in my internal affairs?”

“Because if you’re mired in internal troubles, you won’t have the time or energy to deal with external ones. This aligns with the Chepman family’s interests,” the King responded.

Victor fell silent. The King’s analysis was spot on. Flatlake Village might have already been infiltrated by the Chepman family. However, the mention of the Chepmans brought the old Mountain folk man back to his mind. A flash of inspiration struck him, and he immediately had a new idea.

“Since the Chepman family wants me to be bogged down in trouble, I’ll create some trouble for myself!”

“I can build another freemen camp near the eastern territories and specifically recruit those scattered Mountain folk. I’m sure the Chepman family will support that camp, since they’re already familiar with them.”

“But they will never imagine that the camp is actually under my control!”

“At the same time, I’ll use the Alchemical Warhounds to restrict the movement of the Flatlake Village Villagers, creating a food shortage. Then I’ll use grain to control them. This gentler approach won’t provoke a backlash from the Chepman family, and in the end, Flatlake Village will have no choice but to be swallowed by me. Heh, this is a tactic I learned from the Chepmans. Grain really is a good noose.”

Victor was quite pleased with himself for coming up with a solution so quickly.

“My lord, how do you plan to control those Mountain folk? Alchemical humans have low emotional intelligence and are not equipped to manage a camp,” the King asked.

“Of course I can’t rely on the Alchemical militia alone. I have two excellent candidates who can serve as the camp leaders. The Alchemical militia will only need to assist them,” Victor said, full of confidence.

“My lord, there is one more problem. Do you have any grain?”

Right, do I have any grain? Victor was utterly dumbfounded, and he could almost feel a noose tightening around his own neck.

Chapter 69: The First Step

At noon, the Hill Camp was always deserted. Most of the subjects were out working under the leadership of their village group leaders, only returning to the camp for dinner.

The main mess hall, which could hold over a hundred people, was also deserted. Only thirty-odd subjects were here enjoying their free lunch; they were the members of the second Villager group, who were on their day off.

“Ground-potatoes again?”

A middle-aged subject frowned as he looked at the two steaming, roasted ground-potatoes in his food bowl. Although the ground-potatoes tasted alright, eating them every day was getting tiresome, not to mention they made one particularly gassy.

“There’s not much flour left in the camp. If you want black bread, go to the private mess hall.”

The mess hall cook tossed a piece of greasy, roasted wild boar meat into the subject’s bowl, his tone dripping with passive aggression. He was a proper subject under the work point system and was never polite to those who could only eat in the main mess hall.

“This meat is roasted perfectly, crispy on the outside and tender on the inside. Your skill is almost on par with the master chef in the private mess hall.”

Far from getting angry at the cook’s retort, the subject began to flatter him obsequiously. He understood well that offending the mess hall cook would make it difficult to get a good piece of meat in the future.

“At least you have some sense. You were a group leader, after all.”

The cook glanced at the subject with his nose in the air, mimicking the posture of the master chef from the private mess hall. Lord Victor had said that a good cook could be called a chef, and a good chef could be called a master chef. A master chef, like a master painter, was a master-level figure. Ever since then, all the cooks in the camp, regardless of their skill, had started looking down their noses at people.

Hearing the cook’s words, the middle-aged subject’s body visibly stiffened for a moment before he nonchalantly picked up his bowl and found a place to sit alone.

“Oh, I almost forgot! This is the Purple Cane wine the Group Leader rewarded me with last time. Come, come, everyone have a taste.”

A young, able-bodied man shouted, surrounded by the other subjects of Group Two.

“Young Robert, I heard the Lord Group Leader has already recommended you for the work point system. You’re just waiting for Lady Lilia’s approval now,” one of the Villagers said with deep envy after taking a sip of the Purple Cane wine.

“Heh heh, as long as everyone works hard, you’ll all have a chance,” Robert said humbly, but the smug satisfaction on his face was unmistakable.

“Robert, can you tell us what this work point system is all about?”

The question came from Wood. Compared to his son, who only knew how to bury his head in his food, Wood was curious about everything in the Hill Camp.

Wood and his son had been promoted to subjects by the leader of Group Two, so they naturally became members of that group. As a newcomer, Wood didn’t know much about the work point system, only that getting into it was as hard as climbing to the heavens.

“Heh heh, the work point system means exchanging work for work points. As for what work points can be used for… oh, they’re incredibly useful!”

Robert paused. He felt a sense of superiority over this newcomer who was much older than him, but he hadn’t forgotten that his group leader had told him to win over these ordinary group members.

“You know why the Lord Group Leader and the old group members never eat in the main mess hall? I’ll tell you, they all dine in the private mess hall!”

“You know about the private mess hall? You don’t? It doesn’t matter. You just need to know that even ordinary Nobles can’t get the kind of delicacies served in there!”

“To eat in the private mess hall, you need work points!”

“See those beautiful wooden houses in the camp? To live in one, you need work points!”

“Do you know what a bathroom is? Don’t look at me, I don’t know either, but to get in, you need work points!”

“One work point can also be exchanged for one Copper Sol, but only a fool would make that trade.”

Looking at the envious Villagers around him, Robert took a sip of Purple Cane wine, smiled faintly, and delivered his final line.

“Work points can be exchanged for land! And it’s a fief!”

Thump. A pork bone fell into a wooden food bowl. It had dropped from Paul’s mouth. At that moment, the father and son pair had the exact same open-mouthed expression of shock.

The other Villagers all laughed. It was a scene they were very familiar with.

Wood felt as if he had misheard. A fief! That was land that could only be obtained after a family had served a lord for three whole generations. Obtaining a fief meant becoming a vassal, a step into the upper echelons of society! It was the goal every subject strived for.

Wood had once thought that if he worked hard, and his son worked hard, and he had a grandson who also worked hard, perhaps his great-grandson could become a vassal, but he would never live to see it. It was precisely because the goal was so distant that many families of subjects fell short of becoming vassals. I work so hard, but what if my grandson is a lazy bum? Every family might produce a few unworthy descendants.

Wood wanted to speak, but his throat felt stuck, and for a long while, he couldn’t form a clear sound. He scrambled to grab a cup of water and gulped it down. He cleared his throat and was about to speak when a familiar voice asked his question for him.

“How can we join the work point system?” It was Paul’s voice.

Good lad! You and I are on the same page! Wood looked with satisfaction at his young, naive foodie of a son and his blazing eyes. Wood secretly resolved that no matter how hard it was to join the work point system, he would give it his all!

“It’s hard to get into the work point system now! Very hard! First, you must have the status of a subject. Second, you must work exceptionally hard, be one of the best in your group. Third, you need a recommendation from the Lord Group Leader and Lady Lilia’s approval. The Lord Group Leader can only recommend one person a month. Heh, and don’t think you can get a recommendation just by sucking up to him. Lady Lilia keeps a close eye on his every move. So, those of you thinking of using crooked ideas, just save it. I received the Lord Group Leader’s recommendation, but you tell me, how’s my work?”

“You do excellent work. I’m not as good as you,” a Villager said with a nod.

Wood also agreed. Although Robert often flattered the Lord Group Leader, he was diligent and meticulous when he worked, you could even say he was scrupulous. For example, the last time they were weaving baskets, he wove more than anyone else, and his were perfectly shaped and round. Wood had to admit that Robert was not only hardworking but also had a pair of skilled hands.

“I’ll let you in on another secret. I heard the Lord Group Leader say that the work point system will soon be capped at a maximum of seven hundred people, and there are already over four hundred. So, whoever slacks off is finished.”

Robert’s words made all the Villagers look at each other, sparks seeming to fly between them.

“Don’t just stare at your own people. If you’ve got what it takes, compete with the other groups. The Lord Group Leader said that if we all work hard and our group is the next to finish building our village section, everyone can join the work point system. The last group to finish will be out of luck.”

Hearing this, everyone breathed a sigh of relief, and the atmosphere immediately became harmonious again.

Robert noticed everyone’s expressions and felt secretly pleased. The Lord Group Leader had specifically instructed him to encourage these ordinary members so that their group would be the second to complete their village section. When that happened, the Lord Group Leader would become a Lord Village Head and would surely not treat him poorly.

“Even after joining the work point system, you’re not yet a vassal. We’ve only cleared two thousand mu of land so far, and it’s already been granted as fiefs, mostly to the Guards and artisans.”

“So, whoever finishes building their village section first gets to clear land first. Then, the land will be distributed according to work points. Anyone with over ten mu becomes a vassal,” Robert added, striking while the iron was hot.

“Then let’s work hard! We’ll definitely be the second to finish!” Paul said excitedly, with the fearlessness of youth.

“You two are new here, so the Lord Group Leader must have told you, but I’ll remind you again: the Hill Camp has strict rules. You walk on the right, and you absolutely cannot relieve yourself wherever you please. Even water usage is regulated. If you break the rules, you’ll be punished. Don’t expect the Lord Group Leader to plead for you. Forget subjects, even the Lord Group Leader would be dismissed if he broke the rules. We have a perfect example right here, don’t we!” As Robert spoke, he jutted his chin towards the middle-aged subject sitting alone in the corner.

“I really don’t know how someone can be so shameless. He’s already been kicked out of the work point system, yet he still has the nerve to stay in our group,” another villager said with disgust.

Bansen silently ate his lunch. He heard everything they said but showed no reaction. He was used to it.

Bansen was a village group leader. Or he used to be.

Back in the Eastern Province, Bansen drove the carriage for the town mayor. After arriving in Victor’s territory, he was elected by the subjects to be a village group leader.

He had been a competent group leader and had made significant contributions to the construction of the Hill Camp.

But he fell, and he fell because of a woman.

For the subjects, marriage was simply a man and a woman living together. If the man was a failure, the woman would take the children and remarry. But Bansen forgot that Lord Victor did not permit village group leaders to use their power to take another’s partner. And he had made that exact mistake.

So, he was dismissed. Bansen was not convinced. He defended himself, arguing that the woman had been willing.

Lord Victor listened quietly to his explanation and said only one thing: “I have the final say!”

Bansen was dismissed and kicked out of the work point system. Then, Lord Victor gave Bansen two choices: take the money his work points were worth and get lost, or forfeit all his work points and stay.

Bansen chose the latter. He understood full well that getting lost meant death, and besides, he couldn’t leave this beautiful, tidy camp. He had poured his sweat into this place; it had carried his hopes. He couldn’t bear to part with it.

So, Bansen continued to eat his lunch, but soon he wouldn’t have to.

“Bansen, my lord wants to see you,” a Guard said as he walked into the main mess hall and addressed Bansen.

Bansen was surprised, but he stood up immediately. After cleaning his table, he returned his leftover food to the cook—he could still eat it for dinner. Then, he left the main mess hall with the Guard.

Led by the Guard, Bansen entered the upper camp. He was slightly excited; it had been a long time since he’d been here. But the Guard didn’t take him to the office. Instead, he led him directly to a fence and rang a small bell.

Bansen’s pupils contracted. He knew this was a restricted area in the Hill Camp. Something big must have happened, and it was related to him!

Soon, the gate in the fence opened. A man peered out, looked at Bansen, and said, “Come in.”

Bansen recognized him. It was Busuo, one of the few people who could freely enter the restricted area. Busuo knew many, many things and was deeply trusted by Lord Victor.

“Don’t look around. Nothing here can be spoken of outside,” Busuo said as he walked.

Bansen followed behind Busuo with his head down, his eyes not daring to stray. He knew there were many secrets here, especially concerning the Purple Cane, and Purple Cane meant wealth.

Upon entering a small wooden cabin, Bansen saw the Lord and five other men. One of them was an acquaintance, the other dismissed village group leader, Butz.

“Bansen, you’re here. Come, have a seat,” Victor said, gesturing to his former subordinate.

“Lord Victor, good day,” Bansen said, suppressing his excitement as he bowed to Victor.

Victor smiled at the two men and said, “Butz, Bansen, I have called you here today to have you leave the Hill Camp!”

Butz and Bansen turned pale, but they didn’t ask any questions. They waited for what was to come.

Seeing their reaction, Victor nodded in satisfaction. He stood up, walked over to a wooden board with a map drawn on it, and said, “Look, this is our Hill Camp. Forty-five kilometers east of here is that large freemen camp in the east. And fifty kilometers to the northeast is Flatlake Village.”

Victor tapped the map with a wooden stick.

“This large camp in the east is actually a freemen camp in disguise, run by the Chepman family. They are secretly mining silver there.”

“Now, there are signs that Flatlake Village and the Chepman family’s camp have made contact.”

“I plan to establish a freemen camp at a point between these two camps, and you two will be in charge of it.”

Victor tapped the map again.

“My lord, you mean for us to cut off the connection between these two camps?” Bansen asked, mustering his courage.

“No, you don’t have to do anything except establish a freemen camp here,” Victor continued. “Right now, there are about a hundred scattered freemen in the territory, most of them Mountain folk. As soon as you build a camp, they will come to you. I want you to control these Mountain folk firmly.”

Victor was confident that the Alchemical Warhounds could drive those Mountain folk to the designated area, where they would be consolidated.

“My lord, the Mountain folk are fierce and accustomed to obeying the strong. I’m afraid we won’t be able to control them,” Butz said, forcing himself to speak.

“I’ve prepared helpers for you. This is Bull, Corbett, Conley, and Dief.”

Only then did Butz and Bansen take a good look at the four stoic strangers. They realized these men were all very strong, especially the one called Bull, who was almost comparable to the towering Reno.

“Bull and Corbett are death commandos trained by the family. They are powerful, no less so than an apprentice knight. Conley and Dief are skilled in various crafts and techniques; they are artisans trained by the family.”

Victor watched as Butz and Bansen’s faces turned from pale to a deathly white, and he smiled faintly.

“I believe you’ve guessed it. Reno, Busuo, and they are all part of my secret force, a secret that not even Captain Narsen knows.”

Butz and Bansen were frozen stiff. They had heard that the great Nobles secretly trained death commandos—men who had undergone brutal training, were fiercely loyal to their master, powerful, and utterly devoid of humanity. Now, the legendary death commandos were standing right in front of them, and they were going to be working with them.

“Don’t worry. Now that you know these secrets, it means you’ve become core members of the family. As long as you don’t betray me, you won’t be purged. You won’t betray me, will you?”

Victor maintained his elegant smile, but to Butz and Bansen, it looked incredibly dangerous. They hurriedly replied, “My lord, we will never betray you! We await your command.”

“Very good. I trust you. Remember, your story is that you’re leaving the Hill Camp to make your own way because you were ostracized. You must not show any weakness in front of the Mountain folk.”

“If Flatlake Village or the Chepman family’s camp contacts you, you must also act like the leaders of freemen. Do you understand?”

“Understood!” After their terror subsided, Bansen and Butz felt a surge of excitement. They were now core members of the family. Was this a meteoric rise?

“If you need to contact me, just tell Bull. Likewise, Bull will relay my instructions to you. In daily matters, they will still be your subordinates.”

“Do you have any other questions?” Victor asked gently.

“My lord, when do we depart?” Bansen and Butz exchanged a glance and asked excitedly. This feeling of being valued was wonderful!

“Busuo will take you to the temporary settlement and announce your exile. Once Bull meets up with you, you will depart immediately.” Victor’s face turned stern as he continued, “Can you not look so excited! You are being exiled! Not ennobled!”

After Busuo led the two former group leaders, their faces now crestfallen, out of the room, Victor walked to the map. He covered the location of Flatlake Village with his hand and sneered, “Flatlake Village, five hundred people, five thousand mu of farmland, six thousand mu of lake. Do you think you can escape my grasp?”

But Victor’s gaze was fixed on the Chepman family’s camp, deep and chilling.

“I am the lord here!”

Chapter 70: Specialization

On the solid wood table before Victor lay a pile of Purification Crystals. Stacked together, the transparent crystals gleamed, sparkling like diamonds, but their value far exceeded that of any diamond.

Victor paid no mind to the pile of magical a pile of crystals, instead staring at two slabs of dried mud, his brow furrowed.

On the left slab was the distinct footprint of a person. The print was thirteen centimeters long and five centimeters wide, the foot slender and the toes rounded. From its shape and size, it was clearly the right footprint of a human child.

The slab on the right was several times larger than the one on the left. On its surface was a paw print forty-six centimeters long and thirty-eight centimeters wide. The print had four toes, the digits clearly ending in sharp claws, and there was webbing between them. It was the print of a giant beast, and an amphibious one at that.

“Jack, are you certain this is a human footprint? Not a Halfling’s?” Victor looked up at the Alchemical militia standing opposite him.

“My lord, although Halflings are similar in form to humans, they are all blood-kin of the Demonic Rat Sepis. Halflings almost never leave footprints, and a rare few can even walk on water. So, this must be a human footprint!” Jack replied.

Victor nodded. Just yesterday, the alchemical creature team sent to gather Purification Crystals had returned safely, bringing back a full fifty-four crystals.

The alchemical creatures’ collection process had been uneventful. With the help of the alchemical crows, they avoided most of the dangerous creatures and encountered no Lizardmen tribes. Upon reaching their destination, the Alchemical humans dived into several pools and collected all the Purification Crystals within.

However, they subsequently discovered a strange set of tracks: the footprints of a human child and the claw prints of a giant marsh beast. The tracks showed that the human child and the marsh beast were moving very close together. At times, the child’s footprints would disappear, indicating the child had ridden on the beast’s back for a distance. Finally, the tracks vanished into a lake. Jack and his team gave up the pursuit, dug up two mud slabs bearing the prints, and brought them back to the rendezvous point.

“Do you know what animal left this print?” Victor asked Jack, pointing to the giant beast’s claw print.

“It should be a Marsh Dragon-Lizard, but it’s three times larger than a normal one.”

Victor drew a sharp breath. A Marsh Dragon-Lizard was typically five to seven meters long and weighed over a ton. With sharp teeth and claws, immense strength, and agile movements, it was an incredibly ferocious predator. In particular, their hides were extremely tough, the material of choice for crafting top-tier leather armor. It was said that armor made from dragon-lizard hide was resistant to swords and blades and could also effectively defend against blunt weapon strikes. It was clearly a beast with formidable offense and defense.

And this dragon-lizard was three times larger than an ordinary one. That meant this creature was over twelve meters long and weighed around three tons. It was highly likely an Aberration!

“Why did you bring these prints back for me to see?”

Victor was perplexed. He wanted to understand why the Alchemical militia had tracked these footprints and brought back evidence.

“My lord, when we carry out a level-three collection mission, if we discover signs of human activity in a dangerous area, we are supposed to investigate and report the relevant information to our Master. This is part of our Will Side programming.”

Jack’s answer left Victor momentarily speechless. It seemed the execution standards for a level-three mission for the Alchemical militia were very broad, even including a reconnaissance function.

“I understand the situation. Let’s talk about your next mission.”

Victor reached out and gave the two mud slabs on the table a gentle push. A soft breeze wrapped around them, and the dry mud floated backward several meters like feathers, landing steadily in a corner of the room. Victor currently had neither the ability nor the inclination to meddle in the affairs of the Great Marsh, especially not such a bizarre affair.

“Jack, those four should have already blended into the temporary settlement, right?” Victor asked softly, stroking his chin.

Yesterday, at the rendezvous point, Victor had ordered the other four Alchemical militia to infiltrate the temporary settlement disguised as freemen. The Alchemical Warhounds remained hidden forty kilometers away, while Jack had infiltrated the upper camp during the night as instructed.

“Yes, my lord. I saw them enter the temporary settlement with my own eyes,” Jack said with a nod.

“Jack, come and look at this map.” Victor stood up. Behind him was a wooden board covered by a linen cloth.

Victor lifted the cloth, revealing the entire board. Drawn upon it was a huge map, though it was very crude, with many blank areas. However, a few points were marked: Hill Camp, Chapman’s Camp, Flatlake Village, and Entrance to the Great Marsh.

“Jack, two days ago, I ordered Bull and the others—right, Bull and his men are newly created Alchemical militia.”

“I ordered them to build a freemen’s camp at this location to recruit the scattered Mountain folk in the territory.” Victor pointed to a spot on the map.

“Your primary mission is to take those five big dogs and two big crows and patrol the entire territory. Drive the Wildmen towards this area, but you must not let anyone discover the connection between you and the dogs. Secondly, I want you to draw a detailed map of the entire territory, including the remote regions. Investigate the territory’s animal and monster populations, as well as the distribution of plants and mineral veins. Do you have any questions?” Victor turned his head and asked.

“My lord, if the Wildmen do not flee toward the designated area, am I authorized to use lethal force against them?” Jack asked.

“No need. I just need to prevent the Wildmen from establishing their own settlements. However, if they threaten your safety, you may use lethal force.”

To Victor, it didn’t matter whether the Wildmen sought refuge in Flatlake Village or the Mountain folk’s camp. Sooner or later, they would all be his.

“My lord, when do I depart?”

“Check your equipment, take your supplies, and you can leave.”

Jack immediately sprang into action. He equipped two short swords, a dagger, a hunting bow, two quivers of arrows, and a suit of leather armor. Without taking any rations, he headed for the secret door to the forbidden area.

Watching Jack’s clean and efficient movements, Victor felt a secret sense of pride. Formidable close-combat skills, precise archery, a few dogs, and two birds, and he could carry out missions alone in the wilderness. He would have many more powerful warriors like this.

After Jack disappeared through the secret door, Victor walked toward the cave, this time heading straight for the core of the Alchemy Tower—the Elemental Extraction Platform.

“King, report the Alchemy Tower’s current production status and financial reserves,” Victor said, connecting with the Tower Spirit.

“My lord, Alchemy Tower No. 7 has currently produced seven Alchemical militia, six Alchemical auxiliary soldiers, fifteen alchemical crows, and five Alchemical Warhounds. This has consumed one hundred seventy-seven points of Soul Fire. Remaining Soul Fire is four thousand eight hundred twenty-three points. Remaining gold reserve is eleven thousand five hundred fifty.”

The figures made Victor give a wry smile. Truly, you don’t realize how expensive things are until you’re running the household. He had started with a full forty thousand Gold Sol, and now, even including the Alchemy Tower’s reserves, he had less than fifteen thousand Gold Sol.

“King, I need to discuss the future plans for the territory with you. That will help me decide what Alchemical lifeforms I need to produce.” With no advisors, Victor could only pull the Tower Spirit in to help him cover his bases.

“My lord, please describe your current situation,” King, with its autonomous intelligence activated, naturally would not refuse Victor’s request.

“I currently control a population of about nine hundred people. Our food reserves are basically depleted. The entire camp now relies on foraging and hunting to survive,” Victor said, somewhat embarrassed.

Originally, Hill Camp had only four hundred people and could be self-sufficient through its food reserves, foraging, and hunting. But as more and more people came to him, food became a major problem for the camp. To fill their bellies, more and more people were sent out to forage and hunt, traveling farther and farther away. Some teams didn’t even return to the camp until the next day.

Victor had also discovered a terrifying situation: the renewable resources around Hill Camp had been devastated. In other words, all nearby harvestable plants had been picked clean! This was also why the surrounding wild boar had started eating Purple Cane. But humans couldn’t survive on meat alone.

“Now, more and more people are going out to forage, traveling farther and farther. The number of guards and militia dispatched is also increasing, yet the efficiency of collection is decreasing,” Victor said with a shake of his head and a sigh.

“The farther the distance, the more supplies are consumed. The foragers and guards also need to eat,” King responded.

“I was too hasty. There was a reason those freemen camps were scattered around the territory. The freemen could sustain themselves with the resources near their camps and a small amount of farming, and the surrounding natural crops wouldn’t be destructively harvested.”

“I gathered them together before I was ready. I should have sent people to take over those freemen camps, broken up the freemen, and then resettled them. Only then could my Hill Camp have developed in a healthy way.”

Victor was very annoyed. Worried that the freemen might regroup, he had already sent people to dismantle their camps, and even the materials had been used to build the temporary settlement and the village.

“My lord, it seems your only option now is to rely on purchasing grain to sustain yourself.”

“That’s a given. The fields cleared by the camp have been planted with barley and beans, but they won’t be ready for harvest until the Season of Wind. And the tribute from Flatlake Village isn’t enough to feed so many people.”

“The problem now is that there are only two places where I can buy grain: the York family and the Chapman family. The Chapmans are out of the question; I can’t expose any more weaknesses to them. That leaves Black Fortress Town as the only option. So, what is the probability that the York family will use this to control us?”

“One hundred percent,” King replied without hesitation.

In truth, Victor also understood how the great families thought. It was just that Sylvia had initially supported him with forty thousand Gold Sol (of which fifty thousand had been reduced by ten thousand, extorted by the Countess) and had sold him a batch of equipment at a low price, which made Victor hold on to a sliver of hope regarding the beautiful Countess.

“Then the only way is to accelerate the construction of the villages and disperse the population as quickly as possible. But those freemen haven’t been fully tamed yet. How can I ensure control over them?” Victor asked King again.

“My lord, I suggest you temporarily relax your control over the populace and let them develop freely. At the same time, you can produce enough auxiliary soldiers, establish a secret camp, and have them fire special bricks to rapidly construct a castle. Once your castle is built, you can naturally control the entire territory. Moreover, the auxiliary soldiers can also forge Thorium equipment, increasing your army’s combat effectiveness. I believe this is the best option,” King suggested.

“That’s a terrible idea!” Victor said coldly.

“King, you probably don’t know what special bricks mean to lords. These bricks could change the entire human world. If I reveal this technology now, I will soon face annihilation. The same goes for Thorium equipment. So, until I have the ability to protect myself, I will not bring out these sensitive technologies.”

Special bricks would allow lords to build more fortresses and castles, thereby controlling more territory. All lords would go mad for such technology, not hesitating to wage war. But in King’s cognition, special bricks were just the most common technology of the Alchemical Empire, not worth mentioning. This was because the Alchemical Empire was primarily focused on offense, whereas the current human world was focused on defense. This was a misjudgment caused by the difference in civilizations.

Besides, Victor added in his mind, in your eyes, Alchemical auxiliary soldiers are just the most basic labor units, but in this era, they are all master-level talents. Rather than having them concentrate on low-end labor, it would be better to use them to guide ordinary villagers to achieve greater results.

“However, your suggestion did give me an idea on how to control the villages. And that is to make those villages undergo a lopsided development!”

“My lord, what do you mean?” King asked, puzzled.

“Lopsided development means making these villages follow a path of specialization. For example, in an area rich in sisal resources, we build a village that specializes in producing linen cloth. In areas with fertile land, we build farms. Near mineral veins, we build villages focused on iron production. These villages will not have the ability to be self-sufficient. When their populations are small, they can supplement their food shortages by gathering nearby crops, but once the population increases, they will have to rely on my regulation,” Victor transmitted excitedly to King.

The villages under an ordinary lord were administrative units composed of subjects or vassals who were loyal to their lord, so self-sufficiency was naturally not a problem. But Victor’s foundation was too shallow. Letting freemen he had only known for a few months establish self-sufficient villages was very likely to lead to a loss of control, so they had to undergo lopsided development.

“An excellent idea. Specialized villages are more dependent on advanced technology. The Alchemical auxiliary soldiers who possess this advanced technology will thus gain the highest authority. By dispatching a small number of administrators, my lord can firmly control those villages,” King said, endorsing Victor’s plan.

“King, initiate a construction task. Produce twelve Alchemical auxiliary soldiers. Load each one with Spirit Monkey Mystic Form and Ranged Weapon Mastery. Then, divide these auxiliary soldiers into three groups, and load each group with a different production skill.”

Giving the Alchemical auxiliary soldiers some combat capability better suited Victor’s needs, and Ranged Weapon Mastery and Spirit Monkey Mystic Form were good choices.

“As you wish, my lord. This production will consume eighty-four units of Soul Fire and six thousand gold. Remaining Soul Fire is four thousand seven hundred thirty-nine points. Remaining gold is five thousand five hundred fifty coins,” King reported the production costs to Victor.

I’m really going bankrupt this time, Victor lamented internally. I just wonder how much money Narsen will bring back for me?

And Narsen was already on his way back.

Chapter 71: Who Was Wrong?

The long caravan of wagons moved slowly along the winding road. Their heavy bodies made the sturdy wheels creak and groan, leaving deep ruts in the thawed ground.

Sarah sat in an open-topped wagon, her arm around her son Evan, her heart filled with a sense of bewilderment.

A little over ten days ago, Sarah had lost her husband. The day Barry left with Chief Hooke’s men to do a job, he never returned. Sarah didn’t know where Barry had gone. She had searched for him, but to no avail. Even Chief Hooke and his gang had vanished.

Without a man’s protection, it took only a few days for Sarah and her son to be driven out of their shack. They had not only lost their little home but also faced starvation. The bread distributed by the Church wasn’t enough to fill their stomachs and was often stolen. And so, Sarah needed to find a new man.

As a woman who was still relatively young, there were of course men willing to take her in, but they were unwilling to take Evan. The boy was already ten years old, not only did he eat a lot, but he also had a mind of his own.

Gritting her teeth, Sarah decided to become a tavern wench. Not only could she support herself and her son, but she could also move to a relatively safer part of the slums.

Led by a middleman, Sarah met a big shot in Black Fortress Town—Lord Monkey. However, Lord Monkey gave Sarah a choice: go to the distant fief of Victor to be a wife to someone, and she could even bring her child!

“Ina, how many mu of land does your man have?”

“Harry? He has thirteen mu of fief land. Oh, right, he also has two thousand seven hundred work points, which he can exchange for another two mu of fief land. How many mu does your man have?”

“Sigh! My Ait only has twelve mu of fief land, but he has four thousand work points.”

The conversation among the women in the wagon caught Sarah’s attention. They were all recruited together, had all lost their men, and most of them had children with them.

“By the way, Sarah, how much land does your family have?”

The young woman named Ina struck up a conversation with Sarah. They already knew each other; their former husbands had also worked under Chief Hooke and had similarly vanished without a trace.

“Our fief isn’t as large as yours. Kerry only has ten mu of fief land,” Sarah said lightly.

“Ten mu is still very good. After all, he’s a vassal, isn’t he, everyone?” Ina said consolingly, but the raised volume of her voice betrayed her smugness.

“Kerry also has over ten thousand work points,” Sarah added. Watching the marvelous expressions appear on the other women’s faces gave her a secret thrill.

Women were like that. Whenever they gathered, they had to compare their men, even if they had only just met them. At this thought, Sarah’s smugness faded. She was the same. In the short journey of just over ten days, she had found herself a new man, and a new father for her child.

Sarah’s gaze fell on a middle-aged man on horseback outside the wagon. This was her new man, Kerry. Although Kerry was already forty, he was skilled in martial arts, stronger and more powerful than the younger men. Moreover, he was a man of high standing with his own fief, a guard of the lord. Most importantly, he was very good to Evan.

As if sensing her gaze, Kerry turned his head and smiled at Sarah. This made her a little bashful, and she lowered her head shyly. Little Evan was still focused on tackling a roasted rabbit leg, a prize Kerry had hunted on the road.

Barry, wherever you are, please give us your blessing, Sarah thought, hugging her son tightly.

In the open-topped wagon, the women’s chatter gradually died down. Everyone was getting drowsy. Long journeys were always tiring. Even with the magnificent sea of Purple Cane, it became dull after seeing it for so long.

A burst of cheering startled Sarah awake. She instinctively threw her arms around little Evan and then fumbled around, looking for something to defend herself with.

“Sarah, it’s alright. We’ve arrived.”

A gentle yet firm voice helped Sarah relax. She looked back and saw that many people had already gotten off the wagons. The caravan had stopped at the entrance of a camp.

Sarah was about to jump down from the wagon when a strong arm reached out to her. It was Kerry.

“Thank you.”

Blushing, Sarah took Kerry’s arm and leaped down. Kerry wanted to lift little Evan down as well, but the little guy clearly wasn’t having it and jumped down on his own.

“Evan is still a little shy with strangers,” Sarah explained to Kerry, a bit embarrassed.

“It’s fine! It’s good for a little fellow to have some spirit,” Kerry said with a laugh.

Kerry’s hearty voice eased Sarah’s unease. In truth, Sarah didn’t know that the reason Kerry had chosen her as his partner was because Evan reminded him of his own deceased son.

Sarah curiously sized up the camp before her. The tall fence stretched as far as the eye could see. Behind it, two watchtowers had already been erected. In front of the fence, many people were digging trenches, and a few wagons loaded with flour were entering the camp.

“Mama, I want to go in and see too!” Little Evan tugged on Sarah’s hand, swinging it back and forth. He had seen many of his little friends already enter the camp.

“Kerry, can we go in?” Many of the women and children from their group had already entered the camp, accompanied by their men. Sarah couldn’t help but want to go in and see her future home as well.

“Of course. Inside this camp, you can look around as you please,” Kerry said with a nod.

The camp was about the size of a village. The level ground had clearly been tamped down and was hard-packed. In the low-lying areas, there were many ditches for drainage, so it wouldn’t turn into a mud pit even on rainy days.

To the left of the camp was a square. On one side of the square were many long tables and benches. In a corner, there was a shed, surrounded by hanging sides of smoked pork.

Sarah looked to her right, where there was a large area of low-lying shacks. She was very familiar with this type of dwelling; she had lived in one just like it when she was still one of the lord’s subjects. Although the shacks were low, a portion of space had been dug out underground, so the interior wasn’t too cramped. The walls were built with excavated dirt and thorny branches, making them very sturdy and stable. The roofs were made of wooden frames and thatch, like giant umbrellas covering the entire structure. These semi-subterranean dwellings had a comfortable temperature, but they were particularly vulnerable to flooding.

Sarah noticed that these shacks were arranged very neatly, with identical spacing between them. The ditches on the ground would effectively prevent flooding. Moreover, the ground here was clean, without the foul stench of excrement like in the shanty town of Black Fortress Town.

“Kerry, which one of those shacks is our home?” Sarah asked her man eagerly.

This village—clean, orderly, and organized, with familiar shacks—left Sarah very satisfied. She believed that in a few years, they could have an even better life, because her man was a vassal with status.

“Here? We’re not living here.” Kerry shook his head.

Before Sarah could show her disappointment, Kerry continued, “This is just the freemen’s temporary settlement. It’s just as smelly as the slums in Black Fortress Town. How could we live here?”

“We live in the Hill Camp!”

Speaking of the Hill Camp, Kerry’s eyes sparkled. It was the first time Sarah had seen a look of pride on this mature and steady man’s face.

“Come, I’ll take you home. You can go to the women’s bathhouse for a good soak. Leave little Evan to me; I’ll scrub him clean in the bathhouse. Afterwards, we’ll go to the private mess hall for a wonderful meal. I haven’t had a single decent meal all these days in Black Fortress Town.”

Sarah and little Evan were led by Kerry out of the village-like freemen’s temporary settlement. At the entrance, she saw a beautiful woman with straight legs and a stunning figure talking intimately with Captain Narsen.

“Who is that woman?” Sarah asked with some curiosity. The woman’s air and beauty made her feel plain in comparison. But how could she be so intimate with Captain Narsen, who had neither a fief nor any work points?

In fact, not long after the caravan had set out, most of the women had cast flirtatious glances at the strapping leader, Narsen. Some of the bolder and more confident women had even directly expressed their willingness to be his partner, only to be politely refused. It was only after they heard that Narsen had no fief and none of those precious work points that they shifted their sights to the other guards.

“That’s Linda, Lord Victor’s magistrate, and also Captain Narsen’s partner,” Kerry explained to Sarah.

“Captain Narsen’s wife is the magistrate?!” Sarah exclaimed in surprise.

“Yes, and Captain Narsen’s sister, Lady Lilia, is the lord’s Personal Handmaiden.” Kerry rubbed his chin. He wasn’t sure if that girl Lilia had begun to attend to the lord yet, but it was definitely not wrong to call her ‘My Lady’.

“Narsen is Lady Lilia’s brother?! Then why doesn’t he have a fief or work points?” Sarah asked, confused. His sister was a lady, his wife was the magistrate, and he himself was the Guard Captain, yet he had no fief or work points. It was a situation she found difficult to understand.

“I don’t know. Linda and Lilia don’t have fiefs or work points either. Who knows what the lord is thinking?” Kerry shrugged nonchalantly. He didn’t feel any injustice for Narsen. So what if he didn’t have a fief or work points? The three of them were the only ones in the entire camp who could freely enter the upper camp, excluding the legendary restricted area, of course.

The Narsen couple had no idea they had become the subject of Kerry’s gossip.

“Aren’t you guilty of guarding the treasure and then stealing it yourselves? My lord told you to recruit women, and you went and divvied them up on the road?” Linda put her hands on her slender hips and glared at Narsen.

“What could I do? They were all very forward. You know, the guys all have fiefs now, and every one of them was thinking about starting a family. Heh heh, now they’ve all got wives and children.” Narsen explained sheepishly.

“And you? Did you find a mistress?” Linda’s gaze bored into Narsen. This was her real concern.

“Absolutely not! Those women weren’t interested in me,” Narsen said, waving his hands so fast they became a blur.

“What? Are those women all blind?! Are you telling me you’re not even as good as that big-bearded Kerry?” Linda was furious to hear that her husband had been completely ignored.

Narsen’s head throbbed. He knew he couldn’t get bogged down in this topic. He prepared to make a run for it. As for Linda, he could soothe her slowly at night. Of course, soothing her in bed was always the most effective.

“Linda, where is Lord Victor? I have something important to report to him,” Narsen said in a serious tone.

“Lord Victor is hunting to the west. You should be able to catch him if you go now.”

Narsen had official business to discuss with the lord, so Linda naturally wouldn’t pester him. She was Magistrate Linda now, after all.

————————————

Dozens of fierce, fat wild boars crashed chaotically through the Purple Cane forest, fleeing for their lives.

Three swift arrows sliced through the air with a hum, precisely entering the eyes of three boars and embedding themselves deep in their brains. The three large beasts that had been leading the escape fell to the ground, twitching.

Without the lead boars, the herd immediately broke apart, scattering in all directions. Now the human hunters could round up these powerful and ferocious beasts one by one.

Victor stood at the edge of the Purple Cane forest, hunting bow in hand. He raised his bow and fired another three arrows. From within the dense forest where visibility was poor, the sounds of heavy bodies thudding to the ground and the squeals of dying boars immediately followed.

Narsen listened to the death squeals of the boars coming from the dense Purple Cane forest, utterly shocked.

Victor had fired three arrows in a single breath, killing three wild boars that were running in different directions, all beyond his line of sight. What was most terrifying was that his arrows were so powerful and swift that they weren’t hindered by the dense Purple Cane at all. In fact, they had snapped several canes on their way. Only a crossbow should have such power, yet Victor was using a weak hunting bow!

“My lord, divine archery!” Such marksmanship could only be described as godlike, earning Narsen’s heartfelt admiration.

Victor smiled faintly and exited his Apocalypse state, feeling quite pleased with himself. A shortbow had a high rate of fire but a short range and low power. Yet, when his arrows were wreathed in a gentle breeze, they became swift and fast, their power rivaling a crossbow’s. In his Seamless state, Victor could fire four arrows in a single second. Enhanced by his Super Sense, even targets outside his field of vision could not escape his Perception. With X-3 handling adjustments and targeting, his shots were like lightning bolts, unerringly finding their mark.

However, Victor’s Apocalypse state could only last for forty seconds. After that, he would be left with heart palpitations, weakness, and dizziness, unable to maintain it any longer. It would take five hours for him to return to normal.

Additionally, the shortbow’s durability was too low; it would quickly be destroyed by Victor’s rapid firing. Therefore, Victor planned to have Busuo craft a shortbow from Thorium.

“Narsen, let’s walk and talk.” Seeing his guards, led by the old Mountain folk, begin to systematically round up the wild boars, Victor called out to Narsen.

“My lord, a lot happened on this trip to Black Fortress Town,” Narsen said quietly with his head lowered. He found it difficult to bring up the fact that he had, on his own authority, given the York family a fifty percent share of the Purple Cane wine.

“It’s normal for things not to go smoothly. Tell me the details,” Victor said lightly.

Following behind Victor, Narsen recounted his experience in Black Fortress Town from beginning to end.

“Too much of a coincidence!”

After Narsen finished, Victor turned his head and said, “Narsen, you run into the magistrate coming to arrest someone right after you arrive in Black Fortress Town. Don’t you think that’s too much of a coincidence?”

“My lord, what are you implying?” Narsen asked, surprised and uncertain.

“Too coincidental, and too smooth. How could a gang leader like Barol be taken down by you so easily?” Victor sneered.

“He knew he had offended you, yet he dared to dally with a woman as if nothing had happened? If he were really that stupid, how could he be a gang leader? I’m afraid the man you killed wasn’t Barol, but a steward of the Vilpan family. This was all arranged by the York family.”

“That bastard Monkey dared to trick us! I’ll go tear him apart!” Narsen roared in fury.

Narsen hated being deceived and used more than anything. In truth, ever since the Old Captain died, the War Bear Mercenary Company really hadn’t had anyone who could come up with a plan. This was the main reason for their decline.

“Alright, Monkey wasn’t wrong! The magistrate wasn’t wrong! And of course, you weren’t wrong either!” Victor patted Narsen’s shoulder, signaling him to calm down.

“My lord, then who was wrong?” Narsen scratched his head, asking in confusion.

“Of course, the Vilpan family’s steward was wrong. Because he’s dead, he was wrong,” Victor said sarcastically. “That steward, he knew full well his family and the York family were on opposing sides, yet he still dared to stir up trouble in Black Fortress Town. He was courting death!”

“My lord, I acted on my own authority with that fifty percent of the Purple Cane wine…” Narsen lowered his head in shame.

“Narsen, you handled this matter very well! To be honest, even if it were me, I would have killed the Vilpan family’s steward! Baron Vilpan plotted against my men, so why can’t I take out one of his? I also would have offered a fifty percent share to the York family. The Yorks are showing us that someone is targeting us, and that they can offer us protection.” Victor let out a long breath, as if trying to exhale the frustration in his chest.

“My lord, does that mean I didn’t get the short end of the stick this time?” Narsen asked, pleasantly surprised.

“Who lost out and who benefited, that’s not yet certain!” Victor seemed to be answering Narsen, but also seemed to be muttering to himself.

“Right, about those women you recruited. Have Linda settle them in. Let them all live together for now. Once they get familiar with the place, they’ll naturally be willing to pair up with our men,” Victor added.

“My lord, the women already became partners with our men on the road. They should have already moved into their respective homes by now.”

Victor said, “After all that, it turns out you guys went to Black Fortress Town for a matchmaking party?”

The speed at which his guards had acted made Victor roll his eyes.

“My lord, what’s a ‘matchmaking party’?” Seeing that Victor didn’t seem angry, Narsen asked cheekily.

“You don’t need to attend any matchmaking party, but you do need to attend a round table meeting tomorrow.”

After Narsen left, Victor weighed the purse Narsen had given him. It contained only thirty-one Gold Sols.

“A fifty percent share of the Purple Cane wine? Do you really take me for your vassal?”

Chapter 72: The First Round Table Meeting

In the early morning, within the restricted area of the upper camp, Victor was toying with an exquisite shortsword. It was two fingers wide and two feet long, with a rare, pale-green blade that was thin, sharp, and chillingly cold.

Victor flourished the sword, then brought it down in a chop. A bright flash of green light streaked across the hard, thick Hemlock wood table, effortlessly slicing off a corner.

“A fine sword,” Victor praised with a nod. He flicked the body of the blade, and it let out a clear, resonating hum that lingered on and on.

“Busuo, this Thorium shortsword is exceptionally sharp. Does it have any other special properties?” Victor asked Busuo, who stood to the side.

“My lord, Thorium is as soft as clay when gathered into a ball. No matter how much pressure is applied, it will always return to its spherical shape. Therefore, a Thorium shortsword is sharper and tougher than an ordinary one, and it’s also elastic. It won’t break or shatter, and even if it deforms, it will return to its original shape on its own,” Busuo said.

Damn, that’s even more impressive than memory metal!

Delighted by Busuo’s explanation, Victor asked with a broad smile, “How long would it take you to forge a Thorium shortsword like this one?”

“My lord, I forged this Thorium shortsword by hand. The process is complicated and takes twenty days to make one. Because too much Thorium was integrated into it, its quality can only reach the third-class standard. If I were to use a medium-sized forge, it would take eight days to create a second-class standard Thorium shortsword, and Thorium consumption would be reduced by forty percent. With a large forge, a first-class standard Thorium shortsword could be made in three days, with Thorium consumption reduced by sixty percent,” Busuo replied.

Victor nodded and said, “You’ll have your forges. For now, go and produce sugar.”

“Yes, my lord.” Busuo bowed respectfully and withdrew.

After Busuo left, Victor picked up two small bags of flour from the ground, took up the shortsword, and headed for the cave.

Upon reaching the elemental extraction platform in the Alchemy Tower, Victor connected with the Tower Spirit in his mind. “King, let’s run an experiment today. This is a Thorium shortsword forged by Busuo. Tell me, how much in funds—or should I say, Fortune—can you extract from it?”

With that, Victor placed the Thorium shortsword on the stone platform.

A moment later, the Tower Spirit reported its findings. “My lord, the funds that can be extracted from this shortsword amount to less than a single Gold Sol.”

“Less than one Gold Sol? Heh, you should know that if I sold this shortsword to a Noble, it would be worth at least three hundred Gold Sol, maybe even more,” Victor said, somewhat exasperated.

“My lord, it truly cannot yield a single gold coin’s unit of value,” the King reconfirmed its answer.

“Alright. This is a pound of flour my men bought from Black Fortress, and this is flour given to me as tribute from Flatlake Village. Compare them and tell me the difference in their value.”

Victor tossed the two bags of flour onto the extraction platform.

“My lord, although neither reaches the value of a single Gold Sol, the flour from the tribute is twice as valuable as the flour you purchased.”

“Interesting. So, you’re saying something given to me for free is more valuable than something I bought?” Victor asked, his eyes glinting.

“My lord, I cannot determine the logical relationship. I have no information to provide regarding the exchange principles of the Alchemy Tower.”

“Of course. The person who drives the carriage doesn’t need to know how to build one. The Alchemical Empire would have had no reason to load the Tower Spirit with the secrets of the Alchemy Tower.”

“My lord, are you conducting this experiment to uncover the secrets of the Alchemy Tower’s principles?” the King asked Victor.

“No! The Law of Creation is a mystery I have no ability to unravel. I’ve only confirmed one thing: I’ll develop much faster by taking what’s in other people’s pockets!” Victor replied with a smile.

At that moment, the melodious chime of a bell drifted in from outside the restricted area, reminding Victor that it was time for the meeting.

————————————

When Victor walked into the meeting room, Narsen, Lilia, Linda, and the six village group leaders were already present.

“Sit.”

Victor was the first to take a seat at a massive round table, and he gestured for his subordinates to sit around it as well.

Although Victor had indicated they could be seated, the six village group leaders remained standing, hesitant before such a table. In the past, whenever Victor summoned them for questioning, they always stood.

Narsen, on the other hand, sat down nonchalantly. But after seeing Linda frantically signaling him with her eyes, he stood up again, bewildered. He didn’t know what she meant, but he knew he had to listen to his wife.

“Go on, sit. Don’t you use a round table in the private mess hall?” Victor asked, a little surprised.

“My lord, everyone who dines in the private mess hall is a member of the work point system, so sitting at one table is perfectly fine. But your status is noble; we cannot break with decorum,” Moline stepped forward to answer.

“I know that. But you must also know that you are now my vassals, and I am your liege lord,” Victor said, rising to his feet with a serious expression.

“Perhaps you are not yet aware of a vassal’s duties to their liege. I will tell you today. First is respect. As my vassals, you have the duty to uphold my dignity and authority, to accompany me on solemn occasions, and to defend my honor and reputation.”

“Second is counsel. As my vassals, you must attend the meetings I convene, devise plans for me, offer me advice, and announce various regulations throughout the fief in my name.”

“Third is aid. When I issue a command for war, you must answer my call, join my army, and fight on the battlefield or provide logistical support. If I am imprisoned or captured, you must contribute ransom to save me.”

Victor’s words thrilled everyone present. This was the first time Victor had formally established their status as his vassals and revealed their duties. It meant that from this day forward, they were no longer farmers or mercenaries, but true members of the upper class.

“Today, I have convened this meeting for you to fulfill your duty of counsel. I chose this round table so that you can cast aside the differences in status and speak your minds, offering suggestions and additions to my decisions,” Victor said with a smile.

This time, the village group leaders were the first to sit down, each one looking smug and self-satisfied as they waited for their lord to begin the meeting.

“Lilia, please provide an overview of the camp’s current situation,” Victor gestured to Lilia.

“Yes, my lord.” Lilia gave Victor a sweet smile and said in a crisp voice, “Our camp has a total of over one thousand people, including two hundred seventy-eight subjects under the work point system, one hundred twenty-four ordinary subjects, one hundred thirteen Guards, and roughly five hundred freemen.”

“In addition, the camp has nine carriages, fourteen draft horses, and four oxen.”

“We have just replenished our supplies from Black Fortress with one hundred thousand pounds (about 45 tons) of flour, forty thousand pounds of beans, five thousand pounds of salt, and a small amount of linen. We also have a reserve of ten thousand pounds of smoked pork (from twenty wild boars). The camp is also raising over six hundred ground lizards, which produce over three hundred eggs daily, as well as a small number of yellow goats and grouse.”

Victor quickly did the math in his head. These provisions weren’t even enough to feed a thousand people for a month. The people of this world had large appetites, requiring three to five pounds of food per day. The guards ate even more, and Narsen’s daily consumption reached over forty pounds, with the elite militia eating a similar amount.

Victor sighed and turned to Moline. “Moline, tell us about the progress of construction and land reclamation on your end.”

Moline stood and bowed to Victor. “My lord, we currently have two camps and one village under construction, with over one hundred houses, more than three hundred huts, one blacksmith shop, and two mills, though none are in use at the moment. Only one carpenter’s workshop has been put into operation, and it can even produce wheels. I believe it won’t be long before we can build our own carriages.”

Moline was a little proud. He had recently discovered a highly skilled carpenter among the freemen who could even make wheels. Moline had decisively recommended him to Victor, unaware that this “talent” was one of Victor’s Alchemical auxiliary soldiers.

“We have also reclaimed two thousand four hundred mu of farmland and have already planted barley and black beans, which won’t be harvested until the Season of Wind. There are also some scattered vegetable patches growing lentils, redleaf, peas, and soldier beans. Combined with gathered berries, wild celery, and mushrooms, we can basically meet the camp’s needs,” Moline continued.

Hearing this, one of the village group leaders looked like he wanted to speak but hesitated. Victor noticed and asked him, “Bodi, is there something you’d like to say?”

“My lord, I wish to inform you that we can no longer find any berries or wild vegetables around our camp. Even mushrooms have become scarce. We have to travel fifteen kilometers away just to gather ground-potatoes.”

Bodi was the village group leader in charge of gathering. He continued, “My lord, we’ve been gathering too frequently. We should be gathering these vegetables and berries periodically, but now…”

Victor nodded. He was already aware of this.

“You all understand the situation. We lack everything, especially food. Our current provisions will only last a month. Tell me, to support a population of two thousand, how much farmland do we need to reclaim to keep the fief operational?” Victor’s gaze fell upon the six village group leaders.

The group leaders immediately put their heads together and spoke in hushed tones for a moment before Moline stood up to answer. “My lord, we need at least twenty thousand mu of farmland.”

“What? You can’t be serious, twenty thousand mu?” Victor could hardly believe his ears.

“My lord, it is indeed twenty thousand mu, and that’s for fertile land. For land like what we’ve reclaimed, we would need thirty thousand mu to feed two thousand people,” another group leader chimed in.

“My lord, you may not be aware, but we farmers practice crop-fallow rotation.”

Another village group leader rushed to speak. Since their lord had told them to speak freely, he continued, “My lord, crop-fallow rotation means planting crops on one half of the land while the other half is used for pasture, and then alternating. We cut the grass and put it in the pens, where it mixes with manure and ferments into fertilizer. So, we are only ever planting crops on half of our farmland.”

“My lord, we mainly grow barley, einkorn wheat, and emmer wheat. In a good year, the harvest is at most three times the seed sown. For wheat, it’s two times at most. But barley requires constant guarding, whereas einkorn and emmer wheat don’t attract birds, so we mostly plant wheat.”

When it came to farming, these men grew animated. They were all experts in their field and couldn’t resist showing off their knowledge.

“My lord, the crops are only harvested once a year. We need more fertile land. I suggest we clear ten thousand mu of Purple Cane and plant crops.”

This farmer’s suggestion immediately earned nods of approval from all the other village group leaders.

Victor was getting a headache from the chatter of his newly appointed vassals. However, he now understood one thing clearly: the traditional, self-sufficient development model of a lord was completely out of his reach.

In the current human world, crops were harvested once a year—and a year here was sixteen months long. Combined with low yields, land was exceptionally precious.

This was precisely why pioneer fiefs were unprofitable for the first two years. They needed family support for two to three years before they could operate normally.

Sylvia had originally given Victor forty thousand Gold Sol, which would have been just enough to get him through the difficult first two years, but Victor had spent the money! He was now a poor lord! And a poor lord of a pioneer fief, at that!

Busuo had once told Victor about fifteen types of high-yield crops, but the farmers here had never even heard of them. Then Busuo had proposed an incredible plan: create a Mithril array. A single array could make one mu of land produce four high-yield harvests a year.

Victor was left speechless when he learned that a single Mithril array not only consumed ten pounds of Mithril but also required an alchemist to inscribe the runes.

In short, Victor had only one option: the path of commerce. Now, he needed to unify this understanding within his small circle.

“I will not be cutting down the Purple Cane forest!” Victor declared, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“On his trip to Black Fortress, Narsen sold the Purple Cane wine we brewed. Each cup of Purple Cane wine sold for a price of twelve Copper Sol. And every three Copper Sol can buy a pound of flour. You can all do the math.”

“Furthermore, twelve Copper Sol is the purchase price. In the taverns, the Purple Cane wine is already selling for thirty Copper Sol a cup!”

Victor’s words caused an uproar among the village group leaders. They never imagined the Purple Cane wine they had accidentally brewed could sell for so much.

“My lord, then we won’t have to farm anymore! We’ll get rich just by brewing Purple Cane wine!” Lilia said with a delighted surprise.

“It’s not that simple,” Victor said with a wry smile. “Although Purple Cane wine is more valuable than grain, not many people in Black Fortress Town can afford it. In fact, most of the merchants who bought our Purple Cane wine bought it to cellar it. In a few years, the price of this wine could double.”

“The Purple Cane wine can certainly support all of us, but we still lack weapons and armor, linen, sheepskin, dairy cows, and salt. All of these things require money, especially weapons and armor. You should know that a single set of standard-issue equipment from the York family is worth eighty Gold Sol!”

“Therefore, I have decided to accelerate the construction of villages, but not simply farmsteads! I will establish villages specialized in iron production to forge weapons and farm tools for me, villages specialized in producing linen, and villages specialized in raising dairy cows. In short, whatever we lack, we will produce! Any problems?” Victor stared intently at the group leaders.

But they all remained silent. After a long moment, Dean mustered his courage and asked, “My lord, if we don’t farm, what about the tribute? And how is the subjects’ twenty-percent share calculated?”

Victor smiled. This was the question he had been waiting for.

“We will replace tribute with taxes.”

“Taxes?”

“Correct. You will no longer need to pay me tribute. I will place orders with you, and you will produce goods according to those orders. I will pay you for these goods, and you will then use that money to pay taxes to me. The tax rate will be provisionally set at sixty percent. You don’t need to worry about a lack of orders. I will have people sell these goods, and I will also purchase grain to sell to the subjects at a fair price. But there is one condition: all products must be sold to me. Otherwise, I will take back the village!”

All the village group leaders fell silent again, discomfited by this novel relationship.

“My lord, what about our fiefs?” Moline asked, steeling himself.

“They will be consolidated in the farmlands, where you can hire people to plant them. I will take fifty percent of the surplus. In addition, the work point system will not be abolished for the next ten years. The work points you earn can still be exchanged for land and Copper Sol. I will also allow you to exchange them for shares in the Purple Cane forest, and I will purchase the harvested Purple Cane from you at a set price,” Victor said, full of confidence. If he wanted to protect the fief’s Purple Cane resource, he had to connect everyone’s interests to it. That was the only long-term solution.

At Victor’s words, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Their craving for land was bone-deep. At this moment, they still couldn’t comprehend what kind of future Victor would bring them.

“Then we have no more problems,” the group leaders said, their faces breaking into smiles.

“Good. You must accelerate the process of turning freemen into subjects. Promote thirty people each month from now on. I need all the villages to be completed within a year. If there are no more questions, get to work.”

“Yes, my lord!”

Just as everyone was about to leave, they heard another command from their lord.

“By the way, these round table meetings will be held once every six months. Also, when I am not in the fief, matters concerning the fief will be decided by a collective vote of the round table members. Most importantly, next time, raise your hand before you speak!”

This was the true reason for Victor’s round table meetings. Authoritarianism when he was present, and democracy when he was not. Smart and powerful! The TV shows said that’s what King Arthur did!

“Sylvia, you wanted to put a leash on me? Fine, I’ll hand you the rope myself. We’ll see who’s leashing whom in the end.”

Mulling this over, Victor decided he needed to take a trip to Black Fortress Town.

Chapter 73: Not a Vassal

The whinnying of warhorses outside the carriage startled Victor awake. He opened his eyes and tried to sit up, only to find a soft, fragrant, and smooth body pressed tightly against the crook of his arm. Looking down, he saw Lilia nestled in his embrace like a little lamb.

A smile touched Victor’s lips as he gazed at the long eyelashes and upturned corners of the young woman’s mouth.

On the third day after Narsen’s return, Victor had formally announced to everyone that Lilia would be his personal handmaiden, even holding a special celebratory banquet that evening.

The banquet was a great success. Every member of the Hill Camp offered their blessings to Lilia, especially the War Bear Mercenaries. They were, in a manner of speaking, the uncles who had watched Lilia grow up. They were genuinely happy that she had found such a good home.

That night, more than a dozen young guards drank themselves into a stupor. Although Lilia was now in a high position and already spoken for, that couldn’t stop the young men from admiring her. Now that the most beautiful flower in the camp had fallen into the lord’s embrace, they could only use sweet Purple Cane wine to drown their sorrows.

Narsen had also gotten drunk at the banquet, not because he was reluctant to part with his sister—Narsen wasn’t given to such delicate emotions. What truly moved him was that Victor had insisted on holding this celebratory banquet for Lilia. No Noble would ever hold a banquet for their personal handmaiden; it was against noble etiquette. After all, this was a world where knightly bloodlines were paramount.

But Victor refused to be constrained by noble etiquette. He wanted to hold a banquet for Lilia, so he did. There was no other reason. If one had to be found, it was Victor declaring to everyone: this girl, as delicate as a flower, now belongs to me, so don’t even think about it.

Perhaps sensing that the arm holding her was gone, the sleeping Lilia pouted her rosy lips and snuggled in closer, wrapping herself around Victor like an octopus.

In Victor’s eyes, he and Nicole were like a pair of closely-knit redwoods, their branches intertwined, their hearts connected. But even if one of them were to break, the other could still grow into a towering tree, because they both possessed strength and conviction.

Lilia, however, was different. She was like a vine clinging to a great tree. The height she could reach depended entirely on the tree’s growth. If one day the tree were to fall, she would inevitably wither.

Thinking of Nicole and Lilia, another beautiful and enchanting figure emerged in Victor’s mind: his destination for this trip, the Countess—Sylvia.

In a sense, Sylvia was the first woman in Victor’s new life. Yet, to Victor, Sylvia was like a beautiful lake. Strolling by its shore, you would find the scenery captivating and breathtaking, but you would also sense that the lake was unfathomably deep, inspiring a sense of caution and awe.

Victor wasn’t surprised that Sylvia had deliberately instigated conflict between him and Baron Vilpan, forcefully taking a fifty percent share of the Purple Cane wine, or that she had only sold Narsen a single month’s worth of grain.

What truly puzzled Victor was why Sylvia had invested in him in the first place.

Back then, Sylvia had not only given him forty thousand Gold Sols and sold him a batch of military equipment at a steep discount, but had also dispatched a Knight to help him stabilize his position. This was what confused him the most. At first, Victor had thought it was a compromise made by the York family, who were eager to consolidate their territory. But now, he was no longer so naive. At the time, he had no money, no men, and no power; he was in no position to negotiate with the York family.

Could it be a reward for letting the Countess have a taste of a half-elf? Victor’s face darkened at the thought.

Regardless, Victor now needed the York family’s support for at least two years. That was why he had come to Black Fortress Town. He was here to place the noose in Sylvia’s hands.

In truth, Victor had already thought it through. There was no way for him to follow a path of self-sufficient development, because he had a fatal weakness: he had no family to support him!

Therefore, once the Purple Cane wine showed its tremendous potential, it was a normal reaction for a major noble family like the Yorks to cut off Victor’s path of return to his own family, squeeze his market share of the wine, and pressure him with grain supplies. Victor was certain that even if he had money, the York family could prevent him from buying a single grain of rice or selling a single bottle of his wine. The York family was sending him a clear message: We will no longer allow you to develop freely. We will have the Purple Cane wine!

But that was fine. The creature on the end of a leash isn’t always a puppy; sometimes, it’s a Dragon. When that time comes, who will be leading whom?

As Victor’s thoughts ran wild, he found a pair of large, glistening eyes staring at him. Lilia had woken up at some point.

“Victor, what are you thinking about?” Lilia gently rubbed her soft, smooth cheek against Victor’s chest. She adored his scent, natural and fresh, like a forest after rain.

“I was thinking about Sylvia.”

Victor spoke nonchalantly, enjoying the feel of the girl’s supple skin. Since they had become intimate, Lilia had become exceptionally clingy.

“Who’s Sylvia? Is she as pretty as Sister Nicole?”

Lilia fluttered her large eyes and asked in a delicate voice, but her slightly pouting red lips betrayed her jealousy. Regardless of status, jealousy is a woman’s nature.

“Sylvia is the Countess of York, the one in charge of the York family. We’re on our way to visit her,” Victor explained softly, hugging the girl in his arms a little tighter.

“Victor, are we really going to hand over the Purple Cane wine business to the York family?” the girl asked, a hint of unwillingness in her voice.

“Of course. We have no other choice.”

Victor nodded, then added, “Lilia, do you know how strong the York family is? The family has a lineage of over a thousand years and is renowned for its tenacity and resilience. By now, they are one of the most preeminent noble families in the human world.”

“The Earl of York’s family publicly has five Silver-rank Great Knights, no fewer than twenty Bronze-rank Knights, hundreds of apprentice knights, three thousand elite soldiers, more than twenty thousand vassals, and over forty thousand subjects. Countless freemen also depend on the York family for their livelihood.”

“And that’s just the York family’s own strength. They also have many vassal families, including one Earl, two Viscounts, and five Barons.”

“If the York family were to go to war, they could mobilize an army of over five thousand. A family like that is a true military powerhouse! Do you think we can refuse them?”

A glint shone in Victor’s eyes. Such a behemoth didn’t intimidate him; on the contrary, it filled him with a strange excitement.

“If the York family is so powerful, why did they leave their ancestral home and come all the way to the Centaur Hills?” Lilia pouted, asking resentfully. No matter how powerful the other party was, she didn’t like being pushed around.

“That’s the York family’s style. They do their best to avoid powerful opponents and preserve their strength. But if pushed into a corner, they will fight to the death,” Victor explained.

“In fact, most thousand-year-old noble families have their own style. For example, the Eskri family is known for its unity, and the Chapman family for its thriftiness. It is these qualities that have consolidated their family’s power and allowed their line to continue unbroken.”

“My lord, you know so much!” Lilia said cheerfully, her bright eyes filled with adoration.

Victor could only manage a wry smile. All this knowledge was just gossip he’d picked up from idle chatter back in the Royal Capital. The original comments, however, hadn’t been so flattering. The York family had been derided as country bumpkin wild boars, the Eskri family as stubborn and single-minded, and the Chapman family as stingy. Of course, all this mockery was just sour grapes.

“Lilia, in the end, it all comes down to our own weakness. For some time to come, we will need to learn how to compromise. Only by developing in secret and gathering our strength can we hope to master our own destiny.”

Victor then smiled. “Come on, get up. I can already hear the Tiku hounds. Old Ham must have caught some prey. Looks like we’ll be having a fine breakfast today.”

“Mmm,” Lilia mumbled in agreement, but hugged Victor even tighter.

After a little more cuddling, Victor and Lilia finally got dressed and left the carriage.

Outside, a dozen guards were gathered around a bonfire, staring eagerly as Old Ham roasted a short-tailed deer. Victor caught the enticing aroma from a distance and couldn’t help but remark, “Smells wonderful!”

“My lord, good morning!”

“My Lady, good morning!”

Seeing their lord and Lady Lilia alight from the carriage, the guards hurried to salute them. Lilia, however, glared at them with a crimson face. She felt as if her “uncles” were sizing her up with teasing eyes.

“Old Ham, your roasting skills are the best I’ve ever seen!”

Victor saw a plump short-tailed deer skewered on the rack, roasted to a perfect golden brown with no burnt spots, and praised him sincerely.

“My lord, I just roasted a lot back when I was herding on the grasslands, so I naturally got the hang of it.”

Old Ham carved off a rear leg of the deer and respectfully handed it to Victor. Then, he skillfully sliced off a strip of loin and gave it to Lilia—her favorite part.

“Thank you, Uncle Ham,” Lilia said happily as she accepted her breakfast.

“What made you decide to go hunting so early in the morning?”

Victor asked, noticing another yellow goat being roasted over a second bonfire.

“It’s because the big guy eats too much! He dragged Shak out to hunt at the crack of dawn,” one of the guards said with a laugh.

“It’s true! Reno really can eat. He and Narsen are both bottomless pits. But this Shak fellow is a real expert hunter. All this prey was taken down with a single arrow,” another guard laughed.

Reno’s strength had already won the guards’ respect. Although his origins were a mystery, they had all concluded that he was just a simple-minded brute who didn’t need to be watched with suspicion.

Victor smiled slightly. Reno and Shak had probably gone to practice their Mystic Forms and had hunted on the side to replenish their bodies.

Shak, Victor’s driver, was a Lithe Ape militiaman. He had joined the camp as one of the Mountain folk and was now brought along by Victor as a coachman.

For this trip, Victor had not brought Narsen, as the territory still needed someone to stand guard.

In the end, Victor had chosen a dozen guards, plus Reno, Shak, and Old Ham. With two carriages and ten warhorses, they set off for Black Fortress.

Victor had brought Old Ham along because his Tiku hounds were extremely sensitive. Only by taking the hounds away from the territory could he give Jack more space to carry out his plan of driving away the Mountain folk.

Victor took a bite of the roasted short-tailed deer, the rich flavor filling his mouth. He turned to Ham and asked, “Old Ham, since you grassland people make a living by herding, do you also have Knights?”

“We do. Our Knights are all called Warriors. It was only after I joined the War Bear Mercenary Company that I learned Warriors are the same as Knights,” Old Ham replied.

“Then do you have castles?” Victor suddenly grew interested in the life of the grassland nomads.

“My lord, there’s no stone or wood on the grasslands, so we don’t have castles,” Old Ham said, shaking his head.

“Then how do you defend against monsters and beasts? Or are there none on the grasslands?” Victor asked with a frown.

“My lord, the grasslands are teeming with monsters and wolf packs. To fend them off, we raise Tiku hounds and goshawks to spot them from afar so we can avoid them. If we can’t get away, we have no choice but to fight,” Old Ham said in a raspy voice, the memories clearly not pleasant ones.

“Most of the time, we can’t defeat the Gnoll tribes. Fortunately, the Radiant Church built twelve cities on the grasslands, which allowed us to take refuge inside.”

“I see. No wonder you grassland people are all devout believers,” Victor said with a nod.

The physique of a Gnoll was no match for a human’s. Once their numbers reached the hundreds, not even Knights could stop their assault. Without the protection of cities, it would have been virtually impossible for the nomads to survive on the grasslands. But this also showed that the Radiant Church was indeed fighting against the savage beastmen for the sake of humanity. To think of the hardship and sacrifice involved in building cities on the grasslands… yet the Church had done it.

Perhaps the Church had tried to purge the beastmen from the grasslands countless times, but the plains were too vast and the beastmen bred too quickly. In the end, they must have decided to build cities on the grasslands to shelter the nomads.

As for these nomads, they were likely the descendants of people who had lost their lands in infighting over the millennia. Led by their lords, they had ventured onto the grasslands in search of a new life. This kind of pioneering act had always been encouraged by the Church, which was why the Church had spared no effort in helping the nomads. And for that reason, the people of the grasslands were all devout followers of the Church.

“So how were you eventually annexed by the Sasan Empire?”

This was what puzzled Victor. The grassland people fought beastmen, had fierce and valiant temperaments, were all skilled in mounted archery, and had the support of the Church. How could they have been defeated by the Sassans?

“We were not defeated by the Sassans!” Old Ham cried out, agitated.

“According to the elders, three hundred years ago, the Radiant Church suddenly abandoned the twelve holy cities on the grasslands. Our chieftains fought each other to the death trying to control those cities. In the end, more and more beastmen gathered near the cities, and our ancestors had no choice but to join the Sasan Empire and the Dodor Kingdom.”

“What did you say?!” Victor shot to his feet.

“We fought over the holy cities… we defeated ourselves,” Old Ham stammered, seeing his lord’s drastic change in expression. In any case, he would never admit that the brave people of the grasslands were defeated by the Sassans.

“Hehe, yes. You weren’t defeated by the Sassans.” Victor smiled and sat back down. He understood now.

What happened three hundred years ago? The Randt Empire split into three kingdoms, and then the Sassans took control of the grassland nomads.

And what happened seven hundred years ago? The Emperor of the Randt Empire built a great city in the north, intending to unify the northern lands, but he was killed by the Church.

Victor could now see the machinations at play. The twelve cities on the grasslands had been built with the support of the Randt Empire. Only the Randt Empire possessed such manpower and resources.

At that time, the Randt Empire had intended to build cities on the grasslands and use them as a springboard to unify the north, but their plan fell through. First, the Emperor was killed. Then, the empire fractured. And then, the Church withdrew from the grasslands, allowing the Sassans to take the twelve cities without a fight.

Therefore, the Sasan Empire was the core of the Church Knight Faction. They want the Sasan Empire to unite the entire human world!

Victor thought quietly, his mind turning to Grand Duke Williams.

It was obvious that Grand Duke Williams represented the pro-Church faction within the Kingdom of Gambia. The Kingdom of Gambia was one of the key powers resisting the Sasan Empire—one of the three pillars of the alliance, so to speak. If the Church gained control of the Kingdom of Gambia, then Dodor and Naville would surely be defeated by the Sassans.

So, what was the York family’s position? They were of the Spire Faction! Could it be? Had the Spire Faction already fractured?

Victor carefully considered the role the York family had played in the war several years ago.

The York family had not supported King Ryan. Instead, they handed the entire Eastern Province over to the Randt Emperor. Then they migrated to the farthest western edge of the human world, the Centaur Hills.

It was just like what he had done—they had jumped out of the quagmire!

This position was strategically sound; they could advance or retreat. After the Kingdom of Gambia lost its three eastern provinces, this region became the kingdom’s rear. The York family and the Randt Empire’s territory now formed a pincer attack on the Kingdom of Gambia! If the two joined forces, the likelihood of the Randt Empire’s restoration would increase dramatically.

And if things didn’t work out, the York family were also staunch supporters of Williams, which would make them a target for recruitment by the Church Faction. No matter how you looked at it, the York family was in an invincible position.

This also meant that the Spire Faction was collapsing, and that war was likely very near!

“I understand now!” Victor exclaimed with a laugh.

“Victor, what do you understand?” Lilia asked, looking at her man with a bewildered expression.

“We cannot become vassals of the York family!” Victor said with conviction.

Vassals were nothing but cannon fodder!

Chapter 74: Posing as a Tycoon

The south gate of Black Fortress Town was the exclusive entrance for merchant caravans. The road here was wide, enough for four carriages to pass side-by-side. All of the town’s goods flowed in and out through this gate.

It was currently morning, and the area outside the south gate was bustling with activity. Long lines of caravans waited for the Black Fortress Town guards to inspect their cargo and collect the tax. Only then would they be permitted to enter the town. The process was slow, and some caravans had to wait outside the south gate for several days before being granted entry. As a result, many people had set up stables and inns nearby to provide services for these caravans, and over time, the area had begun to resemble a small town of its own.

Several cart drivers were resting under a shed. Their caravan had already been waiting outside for two days, and today should be their turn to enter the town.

“Quickly! You lot, go hitch the carts!”

A middle-aged man, the caravan’s steward, hurried over and called out to the drivers.

The drivers ran excitedly toward their carts. They skillfully placed the harnesses on the nags’ backs and took up the reins, only to hear the steward shout again.

“Quick, move the carts to the side of the road, don’t get in the way!”

“My lord, did another caravan cut in front of us?” one of the drivers asked, stunned. He had encountered situations like this many times. Sometimes they had to let others go first, and sometimes others had to let them go first; it all depended on the caravan’s backing.

“What are you dawdling for! Pull them to the side, now.”

Having been reprimanded by the steward, the drivers dared not delay. They quickly guided the carts to the side of the road. As soon as they were done, they noticed that all the other caravans had already moved aside, even the one that had been preparing to enter the town had promptly yielded its position.

“What’s going on?” A young driver nudged his companion. It was his first time on the road.

“Heh heh! A big shot must be coming to Black Fortress Town. Maybe even a noble lord,” the older driver chuckled in a low voice.

Sure enough, a short while later, a party of riders appeared in the distance. Ten well-armored cavalrymen escorted two carriages toward the south gate of Black Fortress.

When the convoy drew near, the young driver gasped. He saw that the beast pulling the lead carriage was actually a majestic giant beast.

The driver nudged his companion with his elbow again, but before he could speak, he heard the older driver hiss, “Quick, bow your head in respect! Can’t you see that’s the Baron’s carriage?”

Only then did the young man notice that even the haughty stewards were bowing to the carriage. He lowered his head in a panic, but as the carriage approached, he couldn’t resist quickly looking up again, wanting another glimpse of the massive beast. Instead, a pretty face, charming whether pouting or smiling, met his eyes through the carriage window.

“So beautiful!” the young driver murmured, completely entranced for a moment.

“Hey! It’s gone, what are you gaping at! Is a noble lady someone you can dream about?” the old driver mocked.

“I… I was just curious! I’ve never seen a beast like that, or such a fine carriage!” the young driver explained, his face flushing red.

“So ignorant! That’s a Giant Rhinoceros Beast! The noble lords use them to pull their carriages. A single one costs three thousand Gold Sol.”

The old driver was disdainful. The young man was a good driver, diligent and hardworking, and was well-liked by the steward, so he took every opportunity to knock him down a peg.

“Have you ever seen a carriage like that? If you can describe its style, I’ll concede!” the young man said, sticking his neck out. He was beginning to burn with resentment from the old driver’s constant mockery.

“Well… I really haven’t seen a carriage like this. Have you?”

“I haven’t either! But I know that the front wheels are smaller than the back wheels, so it must be nimble, and the wheels don’t seem to be made of wood. If only I could drive a carriage like that just once!”

Preferably with that noble lady inside, the young man added in his heart.

Victor, of course, had no idea what the young driver was thinking. He only saw Lilia staring blankly out the window, somewhat lost in thought.

“What are you thinking about?” Victor asked Lilia with a smile.

“Nothing, it just feels a little strange to be riding in a noble’s carriage for the first time,” Lilia replied to Victor with a sweet smile.

“The first time I saw nobles traveling, it was the same scene. Other caravans and pedestrians made way, and people bowed to the convoy. I was one of them. Back then, I desperately wanted to know what the inside of a noble’s carriage looked like. I also desperately wanted to sit in one and see what the world looked like from the outside.”

Especially the first time I saw Sister Nicole and My lord sitting in a carriage together, I really wanted to get in, Lilia thought silently.

“So now, have you noticed anything different?” Victor asked with great interest.

“I don’t know. It seems like nothing is different, yet it also feels very different,” Lilia said, shaking her head in confusion.

“Your strength and mentality haven’t changed, but your status has. Most importantly, the carriage is different!” Victor explained lightly before changing the subject. He had little patience for such sentimentality.

As expected, Lilia tilted her head, looked around the carriage, and asked Victor.

“What could be so different about a carriage?”

“I’ve ridden in countless noble carriages, but this one is the smoothest and most comfortable. Do you know why?”

Lilia couldn’t answer. She had never experienced the bumpy ride of a noble’s carriage, so Victor continued, “The cabin of this carriage is unchanged, but the chassis and wheels have been improved by that freeman carpenter. In particular, the wheels are wrapped in a layer of ground lizard hide and filled with Goldsilk Grass, which is why this carriage is better than any other noble’s.”

“What difference does that make? It’s still just for carrying people, isn’t it?” Lilia was puzzled.

“It makes a huge difference. The modified carriage is faster, can carry more weight, turns more nimbly, and is less strenuous for the animal pulling it. This means transport efficiency is greatly increased. A journey that originally took fifteen days, we completed in ten.”

“But whether it’s ten days or fifteen, we’ll get there eventually,” the girl said, then sat down on Victor’s lap. Traveling with Victor, she wished the journey would be as slow as possible.

Victor, not knowing whether to laugh or cry, adjusted his posture and held the clingy Lilia in his arms. This was truly like playing a lute for a cow.

Just like that, before they knew it, Victor’s carriage arrived at Rose Manor.

The walls, built from white-glazed rock, were still as smooth as white jade, but the trees behind them had already sprouted large嫩葉, looking full of life. Victor straightened his clothes, took a deep breath, and walked toward the gate of Rose Manor. The thought of seeing the beautiful and wise Sylvia ignited a spark of heat in his heart.

Before Victor could reach the gate, the flawlessly dressed manor steward approached him, bowed, and said, “Lord Baron Victor, the Countess is taking her afternoon rest and is not seeing guests today.”

Victor’s eyes narrowed. He said to the old steward in a calm voice, “It was presumptuous of me to come unannounced. Please convey my regards to Lady Sylvia. I will call again tomorrow.”

“I will certainly convey my lord’s greetings to My Lady, but I would suggest you go to Black Fortress first and meet with the Earl,” the old steward said, then bowed to Victor and took his leave.

Victor returned to the carriage, his face as dark as water. He commanded in a low voice, “To Black Fortress in the east.”

Seeing their lord’s foul mood, the atmosphere in the convoy grew heavy. Lilia dared not bother Victor any longer and sat乖巧地 to one side. Soon, the convoy arrived before Black Fortress.

Victor looked up at Black Fortress, which stood over fifty meters tall, and couldn’t help but admire its majestic and solid presence. He wondered when he would have a castle of his own.

When Victor walked into Black Fortress, the guards at the gate did not stop him. A young man in a high-quality attendant’s uniform was waiting for Victor at the entrance. He was Earl York’s Scribe, Max.

“Lord Victor, please follow me,” Max said with a standard noble’s smile, bowing slightly and gesturing for Victor to follow him.

Victor returned Max’s gesture politely. In the home of a great noble, both the steward and the scribe were vassals with a knight’s bloodline and should be treated with Respect.

Max led Victor to a waiting room and turned to say.

“Lord Victor, the Lord Governor-General is currently attending to official business. I will announce you first. Please wait a moment.”

“Please, go ahead,” Victor replied faintly.

Victor glanced around the waiting room, feeling a wave of emotion. He had stepped into Black Fortress once again after several months. Compared to his first time being reborn here, his mentality was now completely different.

Right after his transmigration, although he was utterly powerless, as someone from a modern, civilized world, Victor believed his knowledge and intellect were far superior to these local bumpkins, not to mention he had the X-3. This psychological advantage made Victor look down on the nobles here from the bottom of his heart, even despising them. He thought he could play them like fiddles, which was, in fact, a form of arrogance.

But the reality of his frequent mistakes over the past few months had forced Victor to admit that he wasn’t as clever as he had imagined. The nobles he considered uncultured were actually better adapted to this world, wiser, and perhaps even more intelligent than he was.

This realization made Victor cast aside his arrogance and re-examine himself, and it also ignited an even stronger fighting spirit.

Victor closed his eyes and calmed his mind, silently circulating the Golden Toad Mystic Form. The anxiety, indignation, and panic born from the cold reception gradually subsided from his heart. He forsook the adjustments of the X-3 and let his mind move with his blood. Slowly, Victor entered a state where he forgot both himself and the world. As his visualization deepened, Victor seemed to see the blood flowing through his body, and his breathing naturally aligned with the key points of the Golden Toad Mystic Form. A faint, ethereal breeze formed and dissipated around him. And so, Victor sat motionless for three hours.

What Victor didn’t know was that a pair of eyes was quietly observing him through a hidden peephole in the wall.

“How long has this kid been sitting there?” the chubby Earl York asked, sitting on a wide, armless chair.

“My lord, it has been three hours,” Max said, wiping the sweat from his brow as he turned around. His back ached; he had been staring for nearly three hours as well.

“He hasn’t moved?”

“Not at all!”

“The little brat must have fallen asleep. Can’t let him be so comfortable. Go wake him up. I want to see him,” Earl York said through gritted teeth.

Max hurriedly walked toward the adjacent waiting room, eager to be done with the surveillance.

“A Royal Capital noble, through and through. So patient,” Earl York muttered, his voice so low only he could hear it.

“Vic… My lord! The Lord summons you.”

Victor suddenly opened the door to the waiting room, startling Max who was just about to knock. He was baffled. Hadn’t the young baron been asleep?

“Let’s go,” Victor said to the scribe with a smile.

Led by Max, Victor once again met the increasingly portly Lord Governor-General.

“Good day, Lord Earl. It has been some time. You have lost weight,” Victor said, bowing to the Earl.

“Have I? Hehe, I really have lost weight,” the Earl said smugly, stroking his own plump face with delight.

“Ahem!” Max coughed dryly, a reminder to the carried-away Earl York not to be dizzied by flattery.

“So, Baron Victor, what business brings you to me this time?” Earl York asked with authority, clearing his throat.

“My lord, I have come to seek Aid,” Victor said with a bow.

“Aid? Hehe, running out of food, are we?” York smiled so wide his eyes disappeared.

“Yes. A few days ago, my men came to Black Fortress Town to purchase grain, but they could only buy a very small amount, not even enough for a month’s supply for my fief. Therefore, I wish to ask my lord to grant me a shipment of grain as aid.”

Earl York, however, pushed a parchment scroll across the table toward Victor.

“Sign this, and we can talk about anything.”

This familiar scene was somewhat amusing to Victor. He had signed last time, but this time he absolutely would not, because this was a vassalage contract!

“My lord, this is not legal. You know that I am a lord of the Wimbledon family, not your vassal.”

Victor’s long, slender fingers tapped lightly on the parchment scroll, and the document slid back in front of York.

“The Wimbledon family? Hehe, your surname may be noble, but your family has long since fallen apart, scattered throughout the various kingdoms. Do you know how many Wimbledon nobles have become vassals to other lords?”

“You are correct, my lord. But the nobles in the Royal Capital of Gambis all know that it was my wife, Marchioness Sophia, who funded the purchase of my fief in the Centaur Hills. If I were to betray her, I would be despised and ostracized by all nobles.”

At this point, Victor could only play the card of his wife-in-name-only. He added, “Why not listen to my proposal? Perhaps we can both be satisfied.”

“Anything other than signing this document is off the table,” Earl York waved his hand domineeringly, then shouted, “Otherwise, you can just wait to starve to death!”

Seeing Victor fall silent, the scribe Max stepped forward and said, “Lord Victor, you may have forgotten, but when the Season of Wind arrives, you must pay your grain and annual tribute to the kingdom, as well as the tithe to the Radiant Church. To my knowledge, you have only cultivated two thousand mu of land, and the planting period of the Season of Water has already passed. You may face enormous fines, possibly even the confiscation of your fief. But if you sign this document, we will solve all your problems.”

“Thank you for your kind intentions. I will take my leave now.” Victor stood up, bowed to Earl York, and walked decisively toward the door.

“Victor, don’t you dare expect Sophia to help you!”

Seeing Victor about to leave the room, Earl York roared in fury, “You don’t know, do you? Sophia is pursuing the Gold Knight Andre. She won’t care about you at all! On the contrary, if she succeeds in her pursuit of Andre, you should consider what will become of you!”

Victor’s steps faltered for a second, but then he left the room with firm resolve, a flash of icy killing intent in his eyes.

When Victor walked out of Black Fortress, his expression was completely calm.

“Victor! What took so long? How did the talks go?” An anxious Lilia rushed forward to greet him with delight.

Victor smiled and shook his head, wrapping an arm around the girl’s slender waist. “Come, we’re going to the Central Cathedral!”

——————————

“How did it go? Where did the boy go?”

A servant entered the Governor-General’s office, and Earl York asked impatiently.

“My lord, the young baron has just left the Central Cathedral. The presiding Father of the church personally escorted him out, and they seemed to be in high spirits. I have made inquiries. The young baron just donated two thousand Gold Sol to the Church,” the servant replied respectfully.

“Two thousand Gold Sol! That’s my money! Money he tricked out of me!” Earl York raged.

“My lord, the young baron has now checked into the Violet Flower Inn and has booked an entire floor,” the attendant added.

“The Violet Flower? That’s the most expensive inn! And he booked an entire floor! How much does that cost? That was paid for with my money too!” the Earl grew even angrier.

“Ahem! My lord, the Violet Flower is your property,” Max stepped forward to remind him.

Before Earl York could calm down, the attendant said, “It’s still being paid for with my lord’s money.”

“Philip, what are you trying to say?” Max asked with displeasure.

Philip ignored Max and instead said to Earl York, “My lord, the boy is showing you that he is not short of money, that he can buy grain from other places. And even if he can’t buy grain, as a Pioneer Fief lord, he can seek the support of the Church.”

“What a cunning fellow!” Hearing the attendant’s words, Earl York sucked in a cold breath.

“He is! The boy is too cunning, and it’s all because My Lady is too merciful. If we had followed my lord’s wishes from the start and only given him a few thousand Gold Sol, he would have had no choice but to obediently sign the vassalage contract today,” Philip said, fawning over the Earl.

Earl York sat with a blank expression for a moment, then said to the attendant, “Philip, you are right. Come over here, I have a task for you.”

Philip was overjoyed. He shot Max a smug look and walked toward the Earl.

“Come and see, what is this?” Earl York pointed to a document on the table.

As Philip leaned down to get a better look, Earl York violently grabbed his hair, slammed his head onto the desk, and snatched up a purple-gold cup, viciously smashing it against the back of Philip’s head.

Philip didn’t even grunt before collapsing onto the table. The Earl continued to smash his head again and again, splattering red and white matter everywhere.

Covered in blood, Earl York shoved Philip’s shattered head off the table. He looked around coldly at the surrounding attendants and said in a chilling voice, “All of you, remember this! Without My Lady, we are all a pile of dog shit!”

“Clean this up. And send this piece of trash to my dear brother, Viscount Fred. Tell him to keep his nose out of things!”

Chapter 75: Interest

The Violet Flower Inn had four floors, and Victor was staying on the fourth. He stood by the window, gazing down at a quiet street below.

Victor’s heart, however, was anything but quiet. In their confrontation the day before yesterday, he had been at a complete disadvantage. The York family knew his situation like the back of their hand. This wasn’t surprising; there were surely secret agents of the York family among his subjects.

Furthermore, what Earl York had said about Sophia had also caught Victor’s attention.

Marchioness Sophia, in her pursuit of the Gold Knight Andre, had exiled the little Baron to the distant Centaur Hills and secretly murdered her husband in name, all to gain greater political advantage and clear the way for her union with the Gold Knight. It all made perfect sense, but Victor felt it couldn’t be that simple.

First, Earl York had mentioned what would happen if the Marchioness succeeded in her pursuit. This meant Sophia hadn’t succeeded yet. And if she hadn’t succeeded, it meant she could still fail. Therefore, now was not the right time for her to eliminate the little Baron. After all, the reputation of being widowed twice in just a few years was not a pleasant one.

Second, no one knew that the little Baron had been murdered, and by a Wizard at that. It was entirely possible for a great noble to secretly keep a few Wizards. Lords had been consorting with Wizards for as long as fifteen hundred years. But the likelihood of Sophia sending a Wizard to murder a little baron was slim—it was too much trouble! After all, the little Baron had trusted Sophia completely. Why risk using a Wizard for something that could be solved with a single cup of poisoned wine?

In short, Victor thought it unlikely that Sophia had murdered the little Baron, but what good did that do him? Just as Earl York had said, if Sophia succeeded in her pursuit of Andre, Victor would be in real danger. Even if Sophia didn’t kill him, the Gold Knight Andre would never let him be.

In Victor’s memory, Sophia was an exceptionally beautiful and wealthy woman. He believed that when a beautiful, rich woman actively pursued a man, very few could resist. Of course, perhaps a Gold Knight would be different. But what kind of man was Andre? What were his goals? Victor knew nothing. In fact, he knew very little about the world outside his own domain; he was like a blind man.

At this moment, Victor desperately wanted his own intelligence network, but for now, that was just a fantasy. He had neither the money nor the people.

“Damn it all! Nobles can’t even get divorced!” Victor cursed inwardly.

Marriage among the nobility, like a Knight’s duel, was a sacred and solemn contract, a union of interests between two families. There was simply no concept of divorce. If a noble wished to remarry, it was only possible if their spouse kicked the bucket. For example, the birth mother of Princess Royal Roland, the late Queen Erin, or the old Marquess Wimbledon.

Gazing out the window, Victor smiled faintly. He could sense Lilia tiptoeing up to him, trying to sneak up on him from behind. A pointless endeavor, unfortunately.

Ever since he had inexplicably entered a deep meditation of the Golden Toad Mystic Form the day before yesterday, Victor’s Perception had grown much sharper. Now, even without activating his Super Sense, he could detect the slightest movement within two meters of him.

Lilia held her breath, her small, pale feet making not a single sound on the thick wool carpet. She crept silently toward Victor, and just as her sneak attack was about to succeed, she suddenly felt her body lighten as Victor swept her up into his arms.

“Victor, I failed again,” Lilia said, annoyed.

Victor delightedly planted a heavy kiss on his personal handmaiden’s cherry-red lips before setting her down.

For the past two days, Victor had been specifically asking Lilia to try and sneak up on him, but she had tried dozens of times without success. He was now certain his abilities had improved again. It was most likely a passive talent, which Victor decided to call Blind Sense.

“Lilia, have you been able to contact Nicole and Bruce?” Victor asked.

“Victor, I’ve already sent someone to inquire. Sister Nicole and Sir Bruce have accompanied Scholar Edwen back to the Kingdom of Ayr. It will likely be several months before they can return.” Lilia glanced at Victor with some concern. She could already sense that her master was facing a problem.

“Hmph!” Victor snorted coldly. He asked again, “Have the people at Black Fortress accepted the parchment scrolls I wrote?”

“They’ve been accepted.”

Lilia nodded, then added, “My lord, Old John said that man Monkey wants to see you.”

“I have nothing better to do right now, so I might as well see him,” Victor said with a smile.

Monkey stood before Victor, utterly deferential, not daring to breathe too loudly. He had come to beg for his life.

Victor sized up the scrawny gang leader before him. He wore a wool-linen blend overcoat, and his face was pale and sallow as if he were recovering from a serious illness. He was well-groomed, his clothes ironed crisp, making him look something like an upper-class man. But Victor knew Monkey was a freeman through and through.

“You dare come see me? Aren’t you afraid I’ll kill you?” Victor asked in a cold voice.

Although Monkey had been forced into his actions, he had indeed risen to power thanks to Victor’s influence, only to then betray him. So, even if Victor were to kill him, he would have no grounds to complain.

“I am afraid!” Monkey said with a bitter smile. “That’s why I wore my most respectable clothes. I hope to die like an upper-class man.”

“You’d rather die like an upper-class man than run away?” Victor asked, his interest piqued.

“My lord, if you want to kill me, I dare not run, nor could I escape. To you, I am like an ant. You can crush me whenever you please, or you can release me with a flick of your hand.”

As he spoke, Monkey prostrated himself before Victor. This was not a gesture of etiquette, but one of surrender to his fate, like a prisoner about to be beheaded.

Victor’s gaze was icy, but inwardly he was somewhat surprised. This young gang leader hadn’t begged or made excuses; he simply knelt, ready to accept death.

Victor could clearly sense it: Monkey was drenched in sweat, his lips were pale, his heart was pounding like a drum, yet his muscles were slack. All of this indicated that he wasn’t faking it. He was truly afraid, and he was truly ready to die. Or rather, he was staking his life, gambling on an uncertain future.

“If you swear fealty to me, I won’t kill you. What do you say? Can you do that?” Victor tested him, a flicker of interest now sparked.

“My lord, I cannot!” Monkey gritted his teeth, forcing the words out. He could no longer control his trembling.

Seeing the young man’s terror, Victor felt a pang of pity, of discomfort even. Even if Monkey was a blood-soaked villain, the sight of someone whose life and death rested entirely in another’s hands would always anger a person from a civilized society. This anger stemmed from compassion for one’s own kind, directed at this cruel world. It wasn’t about being noble; it was the fear that one day you might suffer the same fate. This was human nature—seeing yourself in others.

So, Victor spoke: “Just now, you came very close to death.”

Hearing Victor’s words, Monkey immediately collapsed to the floor, gasping for air, without even the strength to lift a single finger.

“Give him a glass of Purple Cane wine,” Victor ordered faintly.

If Monkey had just sworn fealty to Victor, he would be a dead man. Victor already knew that Monkey was just one of the York family’s dogs. The York family had many such dogs and was even willing to lend them out to other nobles for a time, but the Yorks would always remain their true masters.

Ever since Old John had suffered that setback, the old mercenary hadn’t been idle. He had thoroughly investigated all the gangs in Black Fortress Town.

There were three main gangs in Black Fortress Town, all of which were tools for the York family to control the freemen. They were the Stonemasons, the Cabbages, and the Hyenas.

The Stonemasons was a gang that organized freemen to build city walls and fortresses. They were also responsible for repairing roads and constructing buildings. Any freeman who wanted to make a living in this trade had to follow the Stonemasons’ arrangements. The gang’s backer was the Garrison Commander of Black Fortress Town. From time to time, the Garrison Commander would promote skilled freemen to become subjects of the York family. When necessary, these strong-bodied freemen could even be armed and turned into a family militia. Consequently, the Stonemasons had the closest relationship with the York family, and outsiders couldn’t interfere. But the freemen all scrambled to get in, not only to support their families but also to learn a trade, with the hope that they might one day become a subject of the Yorks.

The Cabbages were led by the Municipal Official. They organized freemen to clear the town’s filth and rubbish, and to grow vegetables and raise pigs on the vassals’ lands, supplying the entire town with daily necessities. However, the Cabbages strictly forbade freemen from clearing uncultivated land on their own, because all wasteland belonged to the lord.

As for the Hyenas, they did the dirty work. Their main function was to use intimidation and violence to control disobedient freemen, since lords were generally reluctant to kill freemen directly. The Hyenas were the most vicious and also the most tragic; most of their chiefs died violent deaths. Their backer was the magistrate.

Monkey drank a full glass of Purple Cane wine and finally recovered. He took a money pouch from his pocket and respectfully handed it to the guard standing nearby.

“My lord, this is my entire savings. I wish to atone for my sins to you,” Monkey said respectfully.

Victor took the pouch from the guard, weighed it in his hand—it probably held fifty Gold Sols—and then tossed it to Lilia.

Though Monkey’s expression didn’t change, a trace of disappointment flickered in his eyes. This isn’t right, he thought. Shouldn’t the Baron have tossed the pouch back, offered a few words of encouragement, and told me to serve him well?

But how could Monkey know that Victor had played the part of a rich lord to the point of bankruptcy? A mosquito leg might be small, but it was still meat!

“Monkey, it seems your line of work is quite profitable. You’ve only been in charge for a few days and you’ve already made this much?” Victor said with a half-smile.

“It is all thanks to you, my lord. Many shop owners now want me to get them some Purple Cane wine,” Monkey said fawningly.

Victor hadn’t expected the Purple Cane wine to be so popular. Behind these shop owners were various lords, all of them clearly buying up the wine to age in their cellars, as liquor only became more valuable with time.

“Monkey, I’m not killing you because I’m very interested in the person behind you. Can you tell me who he is?” Victor asked, staring into Monkey’s eyes.

“My lord, are you asking about the Magistrate?” Monkey answered cautiously.

Victor rose, clasped his hands behind his back, and walked to the window. Looking down at the street below, he said in a low voice, “A few months ago, I met a Hyena just like you. His name was Maus. I had him executed.”

“Unlike you, Maus had a strong will to live, and his quick wits left a deep impression on me. So, tell me, who is it that makes you so different?” Victor turned and smiled at Monkey.

Looking into Victor’s deep, inscrutable eyes, Monkey felt a chill run through him. His intuition screamed that if he dared to lie or hide anything, he would die instantly.

“It… it was Lord Barol,” Monkey stammered.

“I followed Lord Barol for a year. He told me never to try and be clever in front of nobles. If the lords want me dead, I can only die. Only honesty and ability will make them look upon you with favor. If you still die, it’s either bad luck or a lack of ability. If you don’t die, you get to live a good life. For people like us, every good day is a day earned! So there’s nothing to regret if you die.”

After listening quietly to Monkey’s explanation, Victor asked, “And where is Barol now?”

“He’s dead. He tried to be clever, so he died in the freemen camp outside the town,” Monkey answered, his head bowed.

“Do you still have any of Barol’s personal effects?” Victor asked.

“Some clothes and trinkets.”

“Find all of it, give it to Old John, and go now.”

Victor then turned to Old John. “Old John, take Shak with you and go dig this Barol up for me.”

“My lord, his corpse?” Old John asked, confused.

“No. I want him alive.”

After Old John left with his men, Victor sat alone in the room, a faint sense of excitement stirring within him.

There were many clever freemen, but very few who understood nobles so well. That kind of insight was something only a vassal would have! Since Barol had such insight, how could he have simply died like that? And why was he pretending to be a freeman?

No matter how well you’ve hidden yourself, can you evade the Tracking of an alchemical crow? Can you escape the clutches of my Lithe Ape militiamen? Let’s just see who you really are.

The sound of footsteps outside the door caught Victor’s attention. It was the old steward from Rose Manor.

“Lord Victor, the Countess invites you to attend her banquet.”

Chapter 76: Value and Misunderstanding

The grand hall of Rose Manor was exquisite and elegant, yet with an undercurrent of opulence. The floor was paved with gleaming red copperwood, so polished it shone like a mirror. This type of wood was dense and lustrous, capable of lasting for centuries without decaying, making it a precious material for furniture. Yet here, this priceless wood was used for nothing more than the floor.

Eight pillars like white jade stood in the hall, neither gold nor wood—they were the leg bones of mammoths. These colossal beasts of the northern wilderness stood fifteen meters tall and weighed forty tons. Their massive bodies granted them unrivaled strength, and the bones that supported them were harder than steel.

What shocked Victor most were the intricate patterns carved into these massive leg bones. The carvings depicted the tale of a lone human warrior hunting a mammoth. Victor’s extraordinary eyesight allowed him to notice a fine detail: the lines of the patterns were smooth, their depth uniform. They were clearly not sculpted with a carving knife, but drawn with a human finger.

One could imagine that long ago, a powerful Knight of the York family had hunted these mammoths and then used his fingers to draw on their leg bones as a way to temper his Aura. Victor guessed that this Knight was most likely a Gold Knight; only a Knight who had reached that pinnacle of power could accomplish such a feat so effortlessly.

Unfortunately, the pillars had a faint yellow tinge, looking as if they were already several hundred years old. Although the lifespan of a Gold Knight far exceeded that of an ordinary person, it was impossible to live for several hundred years. Even so, it proved that the York family was a noble bloodline that had once produced a Gold Knight.

Although that ancestor of the York family had long since passed away, his power and will were still manifest in these images, filling Victor with a sense of awe, even as his blood surged with excitement. It was an admiration and a yearning for power.

“Lord Baron, this way, please,” the old steward said to the somewhat mesmerized Victor.

Seeing the old steward lead him toward the rear lounge, Victor’s expression turned a little strange. A noble’s banquet usually involved inviting many guests for dinner, yet Sylvia always invited him alone. He truly couldn’t tell if the gorgeous Countess saw herself as the main course, or if she saw Victor as the dessert.

Upon entering the familiar lounge, Victor found Sylvia, just as he had expected.

The Countess was in formal attire, sitting upright behind a square table. Her golden hair was draped casually over her shoulders, and her expression was poised and serene. Victor felt a wave of relief, followed by a hint of disappointment.

Sylvia was also sizing up Victor. After not seeing him for several months, this handsome, elf-like young lord had shed much of his artificiality and arrogance, becoming more reserved and mature, which made her eyes light up.

“Victor greets you, My Lady Sylvia. May your beauty be everlasting.” Victor gave Sylvia a gentle, refined bow before straightening up, an etiquette perfectly suited for an interaction between two lords.

However, Sylvia paid no mind to Victor’s body language. Instead, she rose and sauntered gracefully over to Victor, circling him once. She leaned in, her exquisite red lips close to his ear, and whispered coquettishly, “Victor, you’ve changed. You’ve become so much more refreshing and natural. It truly delights me.”

The fragrant breath from the Countess’s lips sent a jolt of heat through Victor, making it almost difficult to maintain his composure. But before he could react, the beautiful Countess let out a silvery laugh, and with a light sway of her willowy waist, returned to her seat.

“Lord Baron, please sit.” Sylvia raised a slender, fair hand, gesturing for Victor to sit opposite her.

“Thank you, My Lady.”

Victor sat down, his face impassive, but his heart was in turmoil. He had just realized that when Sylvia had leaned in close, she hadn’t triggered his Blind Sense at all.

Ever since awakening his Moon Elf talents, Victor’s Perception was as high as 21, higher than any Knight he had ever met. Yet, Sylvia had approached him so gracefully, her movements natural and elegant. Victor saw her, heard her, and smelled her, but his body had no natural reflex whatsoever.

Victor scrutinized Sylvia carefully. With his extraordinary perception, he did indeed notice many unusual details. Sylvia’s body proportions were perfect, her features exquisite, and her skin was as smooth and flawless as jade. Her pores were fine and distributed with extreme uniformity. Her golden hair shimmered captivatingly, and the diameter of each strand was nearly identical.

The impression Sylvia gave Victor was one of utter perfection!

Victor had seen this kind of perfection in Bruce, and in Eskri as well. Those two Knights had different heights and appearances, but they both appeared well-proportioned and harmonious.

This was especially true after Nicole became a Knight. Her change was remarkable. Although her facial features hadn’t changed much, her complexion, figure, and temperament gave one a stunningly fresh impression, like a gemstone that had been cut and polished, beginning to shine with dazzling brilliance.

However, none of those three Knights were as flawless as Sylvia, yet they possessed a strong sense of presence that she lacked.

Victor quietly entered his Super Sense and Overlimit states.

Physique 10, Spirit 10, Perception 10, Life 10.

Sylvia’s elemental attributes astonished Victor. It was the first time he had ever seen such perfectly balanced attributes, and each one had reached the limit for a normal human without exceeding it.

Not a Knight! For some reason, Victor let out a sigh of relief. Although he was curious as to why Sylvia had such balanced elemental attributes, it was only curiosity.

“Victor, you rejected my good intentions. I’m very disappointed!” Sylvia said, her voice crisp.

Seeing Sylvia’s faint, unreadable smile, Victor felt a pang of guilt and averted his gaze. He said, “My Lady, I hope you can understand.”

No explanation, but his stance was firm.

“Victor, is that Purple Cane the source of your confidence in rejecting me? You should know, if Purple Cane can be harvested, it can be planted. Soon, all the lords in the Centaur Hills will be planting Purple Cane. You can’t possibly monopolize this resource forever,” Sylvia said with a smile.

“Thirty years!” Victor said in a low voice.

Sylvia raised her slender eyebrows but didn’t speak. Victor continued.

“When I was in the Royal Capital, I had the finest Dumu wine. Each bottle was worth eight hundred Gold Sols. The reason it’s so expensive is that it’s aged for a full eighty years. So, wine is not like grain. The longer grain is stored, the less it’s worth. But the longer wine is aged, the more valuable it becomes, and its value grows exponentially.”

“My Lady Sylvia, for the other lords to grow a sizable crop of Purple Cane, it will take at least thirty years. And those thirty years will create a gap they can never hope to close.”

Sylvia sighed, raising a cup of coffee from the table and taking a light sip.

“Victor, what I like most is your coffee. This drink may be bitter, but it’s a smooth bitterness, accompanied by a mellow fragrance that is endlessly satisfying. What’s more, it has the effect of invigorating the spirit and relieving fatigue. I believe this drink is destined to become all the rage throughout the noble circles.”

Before Victor could respond, Sylvia’s gentle tone turned serious. She said, “But in my eyes, the value of coffee is nowhere near that of Purple Cane wine. Do you know why?”

“Is it because the quantity of coffee is limited?” Victor asked cautiously.

There were not that many Dark Astringent Fruit trees in Victor’s domain, only a little over six hundred. But coffee was intended to be a high-end product from the start, its value derived from its rarity. Besides, Victor could always purchase Dark Astringent Fruit from other lords, since only he possessed the technology to detoxify the pits.

Sylvia smiled and shook her head.

“Dumu wine is a specialty of the Borrey United Kingdom, a fine vintage they brew from the juniper berries of their Seven-Linked Islands. But they also have an unrefined juniper wine, which has always been a strategic resource that other lords acquire.”

Something stirred in Victor’s mind. Juniper wine was a drink made from a mixture of barley and juniper berries. It tasted rather poor, yet it wasn’t cheap and was often out of stock. He never imagined that this inferior wine was actually a strategic resource.

“The Borrey United Kingdom is the only human nation to have established a fortress on the south bank of the Goldwater River. You know of the Battle of Vanguard Fortress from two hundred years ago, don’t you?” Sylvia added.

Victor nodded, indicating he knew of the war that had been recorded in the annals of history.

The Battle of Vanguard Fortress was the first large-scale conflict between the human kingdoms and the Barbarians on the south bank of the Goldwater River. In that battle, the army of the Borrey United Kingdom was besieged by a massive Barbarian force in Vanguard Fortress for a full year. In the end, at the call of the Church, the other lords of the human world sent reinforcements, which finally allowed for the successful retreat of the human soldiers back to the Seven-Linked Islands.

Ultimately, Vanguard Fortress still fell into the hands of the Barbarians, marking the complete failure of humanity’s efforts to expand south of the Goldwater River.

“In the latter stages of that siege, the food and drinking water in Vanguard Fortress had been completely cut off. The human army survived for two months relying on juniper wine before they were successfully rescued. Do you understand the value of Purple Cane wine now?” Sylvia said to Victor.

Hearing this, it all clicked for Victor. The Purple Cane wine was clearly a multi-purpose beverage that could be stored for a long time! No wonder Reno could effectively alleviate his hunger by drinking some Purple Cane wine after cultivating his Ox-Subduing Mystic Form. The wine itself was rich in nutrients and energy, and it could also replenish water.

“So, the value of Purple Cane is extremely high,” Victor said with a苦涩 a bitter smile.

“Correct! What reason do you have now to refuse to become a vassal of our York family? And how will you protect your domain? With those two Ferocious warriors?”

Sylvia smiled playfully. The York family would not allow a resource with such strategic value as Purple Cane to fall into the hands of another family.

“You! You really do have a secret agent among my subjects!” Victor said, displeased. It was clear the York family had mistaken Reno for a Ferocious warrior as well.

“What’s so strange about that? Don’t you have a secret agent in Black Fortress Town?” Sylvia said in feigned surprise, but her bright eyes couldn’t hide the smile within them.

“That’s not what I meant at all… Alright!” Victor, red-faced, started to explain, but ultimately gave up. It truly was a misunderstanding.

“My dear little Victor, I have reviewed the documents you submitted. You are willing to grant the York family complete exclusive rights to your domain’s Purple Cane wine for a price of eighteen Copper Sols per liter, only asking that we open up our supply of grain and materials to you. This is very good. However, how can I trust that you will honor this agreement in the future?”

“Since you already have a secret agent among my subjects, you must know that I have already given up on clearing more farmland in order to protect the Purple Cane resource. Without farmland, I can only rely on your power to feed my subjects and pay taxes to the kingdom. Therefore, your worries are unnecessary,” Victor explained with a bitter smile.

“Then how can you guarantee that your territory will not be invaded by other families? Isn’t the Chapman family already mining for silver on your land? Since you don’t have the strength to protect yourself, why not accept our protection? If you become our vassal, we can protect you legitimately, and you would still keep a fifty percent share of the Purple Cane. Wouldn’t that be more advantageous for you?” Sylvia stared intently into Victor’s eyes.

“The kingdom has laws. Lords cannot attack each other at will,” Victor said hoarsely.

“Heh, laws? You talk of laws in the face of Purple Cane? The great Nobles in the Royal Capital will be the first to reclaim your territory on the grounds that your castle is not up to code,” Sylvia said mockingly.

Victor fell silent. After a long moment, he said firmly, “I will not become your vassal! I know you can fend off the other families’ designs on my territory, and you can also block censure from the Senate. But if you cannot trust my sincerity, my only option is to uproot all that Purple Cane and plant crops in the fields.”

Victor was absolutely unwilling to become a vassal of the York family. He understood all too well that becoming a vassal of a great lord would only lead to being crushed in the event of any major upheaval. Besides, he had too many secrets.

“I really shouldn’t have given you those fifty thousand Gold Sols,” Sylvia lamented, pressing a fair, slender hand to her forehead. She seemed to have forgotten that she had also extorted another ten thousand Gold Sols from Victor.

An idea sparked in Victor’s mind, and he asked, as if possessed, “Sylvia, why did you help me back then? And now, when you have an exclusive contract that is more favorable to you, why do you still insist on me becoming your vassal?”

“Is it because of Sophia? You said you were good friends with her.”

The atmosphere in the room instantly froze.

After a moment, Sylvia said mournfully, “My dear Victor, mentioning another woman in front of me truly breaks my heart.” She then continued, “Is the reason you’re unwilling to become my vassal because of Sophia? Are you still holding onto fantasies about her? Don’t be so naive. Everything Enbise told you is true.”

“Fantasies, my ass! The little baron from back then has long since been replaced,” Victor mentally rolled his eyes.

The reason Victor had pressed this question was to confirm something: if Sophia had tried to protect the little baron, it meant she not only knew he was in danger but might also have known who the killer was, and even why they wanted to kill him! Of course, no one knew that the little baron was actually dead, including the killer.

Now that Victor had become the little baron, he had inherited his karma. And Victor had no desire to die without knowing why.

However, Victor was happy to let Sylvia’s misunderstanding continue, so he responded with silence. But in Sylvia’s eyes, he appeared lonely and dejected.

Sylvia’s voice softened. “Victor, I admire your loyalty to Sophia. But as a lord, you cannot afford to have any wishful thinking. You must choose a side, or you will find it impossible to move forward.”

“Since you are unwilling to become my vassal, I won’t force you. I can agree to your exclusive rights agreement and provide you with the necessary assistance. However, we still have some details to discuss, for example, the Swiftbirds and the coffee,” Sylvia said with a serious expression.

“But before that, my dear Victor, you should go and have a bath. We can talk slowly during the banquet.”

After Victor left, a hidden door in the room opened, and a beautiful woman walked out.

“Trisley, you saw him. That is the man your disciple chose. What do you think?” Sylvia said, a hint of excitement in her voice.

Trisley was silent for a moment before replying coolly, “The perception of a Moon Elf bloodline is truly sharp. Whenever I looked at him, he seemed to sense it. If I hadn’t been constantly circulating the wind element, I’m afraid he would have already discovered me.”

“You know that’s not what I’m asking! You sensed it, didn’t you?” Sylvia’s eyes burned as she stared at her Silver Great Knight.

“Yes. The first time he sized you up, both the wind element and the fire element pulsed simultaneously,” Trisley said with a nod. She was referring to the moment Victor had activated his Super Sense and Overlimit to gather Sylvia’s elemental attributes.

“Hehe, and I thought it was my imagination! Do you know whose bloodline Victor might be from?” Sylvia pressed on excitedly.

“You think he is a descendant of Sword Saint Draven Wimbledon?” Trisley said with some uncertainty.

“While those with ancient bloodlines who awaken Moon Elf talents are rare, they are not unheard of. But they are all attuned to the wind element. The only one with an ancient bloodline of both wind and fire was Sword Saint Draven,” Sylvia said feverishly.

“Draven was a Sword Saint who dominated an entire era. Although he wasn’t a Knight, both of his children entered the legendary realm, and one of his grandsons is a legendary Knight, while the rest all became Gold Knights,” Sylvia said happily, then added with a sneer, “Poor Sophia. In order to secure an heir with a noble bloodline, she actually kicked Victor over to my side. Tell me, if she finds out, do you think she’ll faint from regret?”

Trisley, however, shook her head. “Don’t get your hopes up too soon. The Moon Elf bloodline always has black hair and black eyes, whereas Draven’s golden hair and golden eyes were a very distinct feature. The possibility of Victor awakening the Sword Saint’s bloodline is minuscule.”

Sylvia paused, then said, “There’s no harm in trying.”

“You want Nicole to have a child with him?”

“No, I want to have a child with him!” Sylvia said resolutely.

“Don’t be naive! The Moon Elf bloodline already makes procreation difficult, not to mention you’re… forget it! In short, you’re delusional. Nicole might have a chance, though.” Trisley made an exaggerated expression, yet she couldn’t bear to crush her friend’s hopes. She knew how much Sylvia had always wanted a child of her own.

Unfortunately, Sylvia was not appreciative. She rolled her eyes and retorted, “How could a cold old virgin like you understand how I feel? I suggest you find a man soon and leave a bloodline for your family.”

With that, Sylvia turned with a flex of her slender waist and walked toward the door.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to take a bath. Want to join me?” Sylvia said, puffing out her chest with a flirtatious charm.

“Go to hell!”

Chapter 77: Militia and Sacred Warrior

The freemen shantytown of Black Fortress Town.

Old Denver knelt in his hovel, packing his belongings. He had just found a job tending dairy cows and was preparing to move into a cowshed designated by The Cabbages. He deftly tied up a few ragged pieces of clothing, slung the bundle over his back, and crawled out of the small hovel that had been his temporary shelter.

“Hey! Old Denver, I hear The Cabbages gave you a job with the dairy cows. You’d better thank me properly. If I hadn’t introduced you to The Cabbages, would you be where you are today?”

A freeman with a mouth full of rotten teeth blocked Old Denver’s path, his outstretched, grimy hand making his intentions clear.

A bitter smile appeared on Old Denver’s deeply wrinkled face. He pulled a dozen or so copper coins from his waist pouch and handed them over.

“This is all I have,” the old farmer said, giving the money to his referrer. This was the rule. Anyone who wanted to work under The Cabbages had to give their referrer a commission. It could be paid later, but it could not be withheld.

“This isn’t the amount we agreed on. You’ll have to make up the rest from your future wages. Otherwise, you won’t be keeping that job for long!”

The middleman weighed the copper coins in his hand, uttered a few threats, and turned to leave.

Old Denver kept his head down, the very picture of an honest, simple man. Who would have guessed that just twenty days ago, he was the renowned leader of the hyenas in Black Fortress Town?

I’ve managed to survive for now, but I can’t let my guard down. I’ll lie low for a while, then find a way to join a merchant caravan. Only after I leave Black Fortress Town will I be truly safe, Barol thought to himself.

During the recent turmoil, Barol had made the decisive choice to withdraw. He knew full well that he had no chance of survival caught in the middle; both the Wimbledon and Vilpan families would take their anger out on him. Left with no choice, Barol used a contingency plan he had prepared two years prior to fake his death and escape.

Barol always taught his subordinates that only by learning to accept their fate could they live a good life. But he himself would never accept his fate. Only a fool would accept his fate!

Barol was no fool. He was a secret agent, trained since childhood by the Griswold Family, but his master had been hanged by Emperor Lant. To escape the purge, he had mixed in with refugees and drifted to Black Fortress Town. Relying on his experience and methods, Barol had done reasonably well for himself there. Unfortunately, his luck had run a little thin.

“Caw!” A large bird swooped over Barol’s head. He looked up to see it was a large crow.

He paid the crow no mind; he needed to hurry to his new job. But a figure blocked his path.

“Barol, my lord wants to see you.”

Barol’s heart skipped a beat, but his feet didn’t stop. He maintained the same pace and gait as he tried to circle around the hooded man, as if the person hadn’t been speaking to him at all.

However, the mysterious hooded man sidestepped and once again blocked his path.

“You…”

Having spoken only a single word, Barol’s arm shot out. A dull, non-reflective dagger appeared in his hand as if by magic, and he thrust it viciously toward the base of the mysterious man’s thigh. At the same time, he turned sideways and darted toward the adjacent shantytown.

Barol’s movements were fluid and as fast as lightning. It was a move he had practiced for over forty years.

He still clearly remembered how the old family assassin had taught them: strike when the enemy is distracted, strike only once, and leave immediately after. The old assassin had then personally demonstrated the process. On a busy street, he had brushed past his target. A dozen or so meters later, the target slowly crumpled to the ground, his heart pierced in the instant of their contact, while the old assassin had already vanished into the crowd.

Over forty years had passed, and the old family assassin was likely long dead, but Barol was certain his own assassination technique had surpassed his tutor’s. He had used this move to end the lives of many opponents, and he was confident he wouldn’t fail this time.

The slow approach was to close the distance. Speaking a single word was to distract the opponent. Striking at the base of the thigh was because the area was unprotected by light armor yet contained an artery; a stab there was a certain death sentence. At the same time, a dying opponent might just tie up some of the enemy’s men and create chaos. Taking advantage of the complex terrain here, Barol was confident he could evade any pursuit. It was a skill honed through countless repetitions, requiring no thought.

Precisely because it required no thought, Barol didn’t even know if his dagger had found its mark. He only felt a searing pain in his shoulder before his vision went black. He knew it was over, and so he let out a whimper, a cry for his own end.

“Stop!”

A burly man walked over. The leather armor and the mace at his waist identified him as a Sacred Warrior of the Radiant Church.

“Let him go! Is there anything that can’t be discussed calmly?”

Johnny stared sternly at the two men before him. He hadn’t seen what had just happened, only the hooded figure gripping an old farmer’s shoulder so tightly that the poor man could only let out helpless cries.

Johnny sighed inwardly. Such conflicts were common in the freemen camp, where people sometimes lost their lives over a piece of bread, and the magistrate of Black Fortress Town turned a blind eye. That was why, under the leadership of his captain, Claude, he had begun patrolling the area to restore order to the freemen camp.

“I am Johnny, a Sacred Warrior of the Church. Let him go first. Whatever the dispute, I will help you resolve it.”

Johnny didn’t rashly force the man to release the farmer. Instead, he stated his identity. His experience these past few days had taught him that the seemingly weaker party could sometimes be a thief.

Unfortunately, the man opposite him completely ignored Johnny, still gripping the poor old farmer tightly. The farmer himself had stopped screaming and was now just trembling with his eyes closed, looking utterly pathetic.

“I told you to let him go!”

The man’s dismissive attitude annoyed Johnny. He raised his voice and unhooked the mace from his belt. If the man remained this stubborn, Johnny was prepared to teach him a lesson.

Of course, Shak wouldn’t let go. An Alchemical militia’s eyes saw only his Master’s mission. He wouldn’t have given a damn if it were the Pope himself standing there, let alone a Sacred Warrior.

Now, Johnny was obstructing Shak’s mission and had drawn a weapon. And so, Shak moved.

As Johnny took a step forward, mace in hand, a vicious glint of a sword flashed toward him. The blade descended like a bolt of silk, aiming to cleave the meddling Sacred Warrior in two.

Shak’s strike was too fast. The unprepared Johnny had no way to block it, and he failed to. But he wasn’t sliced in half either. When Shak’s shortsword struck his body, he discovered that the man’s leather armor was incredibly tough and resilient. The sharp blade failed to cut through his flesh, instead sending him flying back three meters.

Johnny, who had been knocked flying, was completely bewildered. How did a freeman send him flying? But he quickly understood what was happening as another sword light came slashing down at his head.

Johnny let out a great “Aargh!” and, with no time to get up, raised his mace to block the overhead strike. His head wasn’t protected by the Sacred Armor Art. In this life-or-death moment, Johnny activated a Sacred Warrior’s second divine art: Sacred Sword Art.

A layer of silver light enveloped Johnny’s mace, instantly turning the black one-handed hammer a brilliant silver. Infused with the Sacred Sword Art, the mace became incomparably hard and gained a concussive effect. It could be called nigh-indestructible, capable of punching a large hole in a Knight’s plate armor with a single blow. Johnny was sure that if the shortsword struck his mace, it would be instantly shattered.

Seeing the change in his opponent’s weapon, Shak decisively switched from a chop to a slash. The sword light swerved, aiming for Johnny’s arm, intending to slice it off. But Johnny was wearing full leather armor, and the blow only knocked his arm aside.

Using this brief opening, Johnny decisively activated the Sacred Warrior’s third divine art: Heroism Art.

Heroism Art could significantly increase a Sacred Warrior’s strength and agility, bringing them close to the level of an apprentice knight. Johnny slammed his hand on the ground, leaving a palm print in the dirt, and used the force to launch himself into the air. He raised his mace and brought it crashing down on Shak. The immense force and speed made the silver-glowing mace whistle menacingly as it fell. If it hit, Shak would undoubtedly be turned into a pile of mangled flesh!

Unfortunately, there are no “ifs” in battle. Johnny’s mace missed Shak, instead smashing a huge crater in the ground, sending dirt flying everywhere with a terrifying roar that elicited gasps and shouts from the onlooking freemen.

With a nimble sidestep, Shak avoided Johnny’s explosive blow. In a flash, he was behind Johnny and stabbed him three times in quick succession. But the thick leather armor, enhanced by the Sacred Armor Art, was like a tortoise shell. A normal shortsword couldn’t pierce it at all, only forcing Johnny to stumble back with each strike. Shak had anticipated this outcome. He was using the force of his thrusts to adjust his angle, preparing to stab Johnny in the eye.

Johnny cried out in silent misery. His opponent was not only immensely strong but also preternaturally agile. In just two breaths, Johnny had attacked once and missed, while his opponent had struck no less than five times, every single one a hit. If not for the automatically-activated Sacred Armor Art, he would have already returned to the Lord of Radiance’s embrace. But the Sacred Armor Art was not invincible. Each hit consumed Johnny’s holy power, and he couldn’t last much longer. The problem was, Johnny couldn’t keep up with Shak’s speed at all and could only take a passive beating.

Johnny activated the fourth divine art of a Sacred Warrior: Insight Art. The sole purpose of Insight Art was to coordinate a Sacred Warrior’s strength and agility.

The Sacred Armor Art could make a Sacred Warrior’s armor incredibly tough, and it activated on its own.

The Sacred Sword Art could enhance a weapon’s destructive power, making the Sacred Warrior’s weapon or shield nigh-indestructible and infusing it with concussive or sharpening effects.

The Heroism Art could increase a Sacred Warrior’s strength and agility, bringing them to the level of an apprentice knight.

However, the sudden surge in strength and speed was something Sacred Warriors couldn’t adapt to, which could expose them to even greater vulnerabilities. Thus, they needed Insight Art to coordinate themselves. Of course, the effect of this coordination was far inferior to that of an apprentice knight. A Knight’s power was the manifestation of the four elements, a unity of spirit and body; they could always bring their full combat potential to bear.

Regardless, Insight Art was a Sacred Warrior’s most core ability. The Sacred Armor Art, Sacred Sword Art, Heroism Art, and Insight Art formed the foundation of a Sacred Warrior’s power, giving them combat strength far beyond that of ordinary people.

Activating these divine arts relied on a Sacred Warrior’s holy power. The stronger their holy power, the better the effects of the arts and the longer they would last. An average Sacred Warrior could sustain combat for about twenty minutes, assuming their Sacred Armor Art wasn’t being depleted.

Theoretically, a Sacred Warrior with all their divine arts active could threaten a Knight, as the Sacred Sword Art’s offensive power was terrifying. But this was merely theoretical.

The reality was that a Sacred Warrior, enhanced by external power, couldn’t even touch a Knight. A Knight, on the other hand, could shatter the Sacred Armor Art with a single blow and completely drain the Sacred Warrior’s holy power. Thus, a Knight killed an elite soldier with one sword stroke, and they generally killed a Sacred Warrior with one, or at most, two strokes. Of course, if a Knight faced a Sacred Warrior of the savage races, it would be a real fight; an ordinary Knight might even need to kite them.

Johnny had finally activated Insight Art. He hadn’t wanted to use it at first, but Insight Art could only be activated after Heroism Art. The fight had started too suddenly and was too intense; in just a few seconds, his holy power was almost completely drained. Even so, in that life-or-death moment, Johnny managed to block the fatal, brain-piercing strike with his arm. And then there was no “and then.”

After his shortsword was blocked, Shak didn’t hesitate. Like a phantom, he slipped behind Johnny, kicked the back of his knee, and slammed into him with ferocious force. The Sacred Warrior pitched forward, his neck exposed. Shak slashed with his sword, on the verge of beheading Johnny on the spot.

“I’ll go see my lord with you! I’ll go see my lord with you!”

Barol’s shouts stopped Shak’s sharp shortsword an inch from Johnny’s neck.

Barol let out a huge sigh of relief. During the brief fight, he couldn’t follow Shak’s movements at all. But as soon as the battle began, one thing became clear to him: he could go with this man to see that “lord.” He wouldn’t die, and he might even get a chance to rise in the world. The precondition was that this powerful death commando could not be allowed to kill a Sacred Warrior of the Church!

So, Barol had to stop the fight. He didn’t shout “stop,” as that would be useless against a death commando. He shouted the death commando’s mission: “see my lord.”

Seeing the shortsword held to the Sacred Warrior’s neck, Barol felt a chill on his own. If he had been half a step slower, his life would have truly been over. To silence him, that lord would have ordered this death commando to cut off his head and then commit suicide! But now, it was time for Barol to clean up the mess.

“My lord Sacred Warrior, you’ve misunderstood! We were just playing around, just playing around! This companion of mine, his mind isn’t all there, a bit dense. Please don’t mind him. We’ll be on our way, on our way.”

Barol spoke while nodding and bowing obsequiously, the very image of an old farmer. With that, he grabbed Shak and began to walk away.

Johnny’s face was ashen as he watched the two disappear into the distance. He didn’t give chase. A Sacred Warrior was not a fool. He also needed to see his own lord now.

——————————————

Ivan’s face was ashen as he listened to the Sacred Warrior captain holding forth before him.

“Father, we clergy should help those in need. It is our heavenly duty,” a handsome young man said loudly.

“Claude, are you questioning my piety?” Ivan said sternly.

“My lord, that is not what I mean. But the freemen outside the town are not living well. They have no order, so they are not safe. We need to—”

“They have order. You just can’t see it!” Ivan rudely cut Claude off.

“They also lack food. Half a piece of black bread a day isn’t enough for them to eat, which is why some of them turn to crime and oppress the even more pitiful. I suggest you increase the daily alms,” Claude persisted, determined to express his opinion.

“You have no place questioning my work. You are a Sacred Warrior from the central church, not my subordinate!”

“But…”

“No buts! The Church’s grain doesn’t fall from the sky. It must be collected from the lords. And this is a Pioneer Fief; the lords have no extra grain to spare. The current situation is already quite good!”

As the two were arguing, a church acolyte ran in. He said, “Captain Claude, Father Conley requests that you lead your team back to the central church. Earl York and Baron Wimbledon are about to hold a notarization before the gods, and you are needed for ceremonial duties.”

“Very well! I’ll head over right away.”

Claude turned to Ivan again and said, “Father, after I’ve completed my duty, I will return to help these freemen establish order. We can also discuss ways to gather more grain.”

Watching the new Sacred Warrior captain run off to the shantytown to gather his men, Ivan spat on the ground in disdain.

“What a fool! Without hunger, conflict, war, and sin, who would piously believe in our Lord?”

Chapter 78: Divine Notarization

The Central Cathedral of Black Fortress Town stood at the crossroads of the Vassal District and the Nobles’ District. It was the tallest and most magnificent building in town. The main structure was built of sturdy gray rock, its walls coated with a layer of white plaster, embodying a combination of grandeur and delicate artistry. The church’s interior was high and spacious, its bell tower pointing straight to the heavens, symbolizing the supreme majesty of the Lord of Radiance.

Compared to Father Ivan’s chapel, the magnificent Central Cathedral seemed more sacred and solemn, but also more desolate. The Central Cathedral served the upper class, or rather, it was a place where the upper class served the Lord of Radiance. For example, the wealthy would donate money and supplies to the Church at the Central Cathedral to prove their piety to the Lord of Radiance—the exact opposite of the church in the poor district.

Father Conley, dressed in a splendid priest’s robe, wore a solemn expression as he supervised the attendants arranging the hall for the day’s event. A sacred Divine Notarization was to be held here, the two parties being Earl Enbise York and Baron Victor Wimbledon. This was of great significance to Father Conley; it was the first Divine Notarization between lords he had presided over since taking charge of the Central Cathedral, and it was also the first ever in the Centaur Pioneer Fief.

“Reverend Father, everything is ready,” an attendant reported, bowing to Conley.

Conley nodded with an air of authority. He scanned his surroundings and asked the attendant, “Has Claude the Sacred Warrior and his squad returned?”

“Not yet. We’ve sent someone to hurry them along.”

Hearing this, Father Conley’s face clouded over with displeasure.

Conley’s superior, Bishop Pello, had told him that the Centaur Hills might one day become a new diocese. To increase the Church’s influence there, they would gradually dispatch more clergy, and Claude was the Sacred Warrior captain who had just been assigned to him.

When Captain Claude and his full squad of Sacred Warriors had first arrived in Black Fortress Town, Father Conley had been delighted, as this would greatly enhance the power at his command.

However, his happiness was short-lived.

Claude, the young Sacred Warrior captain, was highly skilled in combat, fervent, benevolent, brave, just, and devout. He possessed all the virtues promoted by the Church for a Sacred Warrior, but he was a complete greenhorn.

Not long after arriving in Black Fortress, Claude had plunged headfirst into the shantytown. He and his men maintained order, supported the weak, and fought the strong. In just a few short days, they had captured numerous thieves and robbers, sending them all to the Magistrate’s Office in Black Fortress Town. The magistrate, however, was furious about this and had already approached Conley several times to discuss the matter.

Conley had hastily summoned Claude and warned him that the Church had no secular law enforcement authority, as stipulated in the New Covenant of Light. Claude retorted that they weren’t enforcing the law, merely stopping evil and handing the criminals over to the magistrate. Claude had even demanded that Conley distribute more food and clothing to the freemen, and even encouraged him to fund the renovation of the freemen’s shantytown to improve their living conditions.

Only then did Conley understand: Claude had not undergone the standard two-year trial for Sacred Warriors and had been sent directly under his command. This realization left Conley sleepless with worry. There was nothing more headache-inducing for a low-level priest than a rookie Sacred Warrior.

The result was obvious. The Stonemasons reduced their donations to the Central Cathedral. The Cabbages reduced their donations. The chief of the Hyenas, who had once been the most enthusiastic donor, stopped coming altogether. The merchants also reduced their donations, as they were being charged higher protection fees. Only the lords in the Nobles’ District were unaffected, but their donations depended entirely on their mood.

At its worst, that old-bearded Ivan had repeatedly warned Conley to keep a tight leash on Claude! The number of commoners going to Ivan’s for prayer had dropped significantly recently!

What could Conley do? He had already written to Bishop Pello, tactfully requesting that the Bishop dispatch a more experienced Sacred Warrior to assist him—the implication being that Claude should get lost. But Bishop Pello had not yet replied, so he had to endure for a while longer.

“The notarization ceremony is about to begin! Send someone again to see if that bastard Claude is back!” Father Conley ordered, exasperated.

As the presiding priest of the Central Cathedral, Conley’s standards for promotion were completely different from Ivan’s. His merit was judged by how much money he raised for the Church and whether he expanded its influence. This Divine Notarization would be a mark of his achievement.

“Reverend Father! We’re here!”

Conley turned his head to see Claude leading his group of Sacred Warriors over. As they passed, the nearby attendants all covered their noses. Alarmed, Conley shouted, “Stop! Don’t come in!”

“Did you go to the shantytown again today? You all reek! Go wash up and change into your ceremonial armor! The notarization is about to begin!” Conley said to Claude with disgust.

“Father, I have something important to report! Today, Johnny was attacked in the shantytown!” Claude said gravely.

“What? Where is Johnny?” A cold glint flashed in Conley’s eyes. Attacking a Sacred Warrior was a grave crime, something generally only a Wizard would do.

“I’m here, Father!” Johnny raised his hand listlessly. Being completely overpowered in battle had left him deeply dejected.

Conley looked Johnny up and down and saw that he was uninjured. He breathed a sigh of relief and asked, “What happened?”

“It was like this.” Johnny recounted the entire incident to the priest.

Conley was silent for a moment, then said through clenched teeth, “So, you weren’t attacked. You were taught a lesson for meddling in other people’s business!”

“Father, there’s a problem here. That man defeated Johnny with ease. He’s at least an apprentice knight. If that old farmer hadn’t stopped him, he would have killed Johnny! And now he’s taken that farmer away. I believe we should send men to rescue that poor farmer, or he might be killed!” Claude exclaimed with some agitation. He had already concocted a tragic tale in his mind: an apprentice knight had taken a fancy to a farmer’s daughter, and when his advances were rejected, he resorted to coercion. Perhaps a beautiful maiden was waiting for a Sacred Warrior to rescue her right now. The thought made Claude’s blood boil.

“An apprentice knight wanted to kill Johnny? Then why didn’t he cut off Johnny’s head with his first strike? And in the end, why did that farmer lead the apprentice knight away?” Conley sneered.

“Well…” Claude was rendered speechless by the priest’s questions.

“I am warning you again: order in the shantytown is the responsibility of the Magistrate’s Office! Your duty is to serve the Church, to eliminate Wizards, and to fight monsters. Stop wasting your time running off to the shantytown! Now, go get yourselves cleaned up, change into your ceremonial armor. The Divine Notarization is about to begin.”

Amidst Conley’s roars, the young Sacred Warriors scurried off toward their quarters.

“How ridiculous! What does the nobles’ dirty business have to do with us?” Conley muttered to himself.

“Father Conley, Baron Wimbledon has arrived,” an attendant reported.

A smile appeared on Father Conley’s face. Two days ago, Baron Wimbledon had donated two thousand Gold Sol to the Central Cathedral but had recorded the amount as one thousand Gold Sol in the register. Such a generous act naturally pleased Father Conley.

So, Conley walked out of the great cathedral to personally welcome the Lord Baron.

At the bottom of the white marble steps, Father Conley saw the young, handsome Lord Baron and his retainers. The Baron’s face, however, was a little pale. Recalling the charming maid who had accompanied the Baron two days prior, Conley had a sudden moment of understanding.

“Lord Baron Victor, good day. May the glory of the Lord of Radiance bless you,” Conley said to Victor with a smile.

“Father Conley, good day,” Victor replied, politely nodding to the priest.

“You are in good spirits today, Lord Victor,” Conley said, giving Victor a suggestive smile.

Good spirits? Victor felt the world go dark. He had been exhausted to the point of death these past two days. Sylvia’s insatiable demands had been a mixture of pain and pleasure for him.

“I’m alright, alright,” Victor said with a dry laugh.

Father Conley smiled without a word. He raised the priest’s scepter in his hand and pointed it at Victor. A platinum-gold radiance enveloped Victor, who felt a jolt of energy. The feeling of exhaustion was swept away, and his body felt much lighter.

“Father, what is this?” Victor asked in astonishment.

“This is a divine art bestowed by my Lord, the Restoration Art. It can continuously restore a person’s spirit and stamina,” Conley said with pride.

“That’s incredible!”

Victor clenched his fists, feeling the strength return to his body.

“Father Conley, this Restoration Art is truly remarkable. It could allow soldiers to fight continuously without being affected by fatigue.”

“Well… in theory, yes. But the Restoration Art can only be used once a day. Continuous use will diminish its effect,” Conley said with a wry smile.

“Oh, is that so? But it’s still amazing! Father Conley, could you tell me more about the basic types of divine arts? I’m very interested. If it’s an inconvenience…” Victor probed.

“It’s not really a secret. For thousands of years, the lords have fought monsters and beastmen under the leadership of the Church. Everyone is quite familiar with my Lord’s power. It’s no problem to chat with you about it,” Conley said with a modest smile.

“Our divine arts mainly consist of Restoration Art, Healing Art, Cleansing Art, and Inspiration Art.”

“Restoration Art, you already know. Healing Art can continuously stop a soldier’s bleeding and heal wounds. The smaller the wound, the faster it heals; the larger the wound, the slower it heals. Healing Art can last for five minutes at a time. A high-ranking priest can even reattach severed limbs, though the cost is very high. This divine art has saved countless soldiers’ lives.”

“Cleansing Art can cure most diseases. It’s a divine art we clergy use often, but it requires a specific ritual and consumes valuable white crystals, so we usually need to charge a certain fee.”

“Inspiration Art can bolster a soldier’s courage, making them fearless. It can also significantly dull the sensation of pain, preventing soldiers from fainting from it. Like Restoration Art, its effect is best when used once a day.”

“The might and mercy of the Lord of Radiance are truly admirable,” Victor chimed in with a timely compliment.

“The radiance of my Lord is eternal,” Conley said with a serious expression.

“By the way, during the Purification Ceremony last time, I saw the Bishop conjure a platinum-gold sacred flame. Is that also a divine art?” Victor took the opportunity to ask.

“That is the Sacred Flame Art. It can only be cast by high-ranking priests, so I’m not very familiar with it,” Conley said, a little awkwardly. But his flickering gaze couldn’t escape Victor’s perception. It was clear the priest was unwilling to discuss deeper matters.

“I see,” Victor said with a nod and a smile.

The two made their way into the Central Cathedral, chatting as they walked.

The church’s prayer hall was wide and high, creating a sense of one’s own smallness. This, combined with the four enormous statues of sword-wielding angels, inspired a feeling of awe. The ceiling of the prayer hall was made of a special crystal, and the daylight filtering through it coated everything in the hall with a layer of gold, creating a sacred atmosphere.

Victor didn’t feel overwhelmed. This wasn’t his first time in the Central Cathedral; in his memory, there were larger and more solemn churches of the Lord of Radiance. But there was no denying that the Central Cathedral of Black Fortress Town made Victor more keenly aware of the Church’s deep resources and power, especially considering this was a pioneer fief established only three years ago.

“Father Conley, Earl York has arrived,” an attendant reported.

“Lord Victor, I am going to welcome the Earl. Please wait here for a moment. The Divine Notarization can begin shortly.”

With that, Father Conley left the prayer hall to greet the master of Black Fortress Town.

Victor rested his hand on the long table in the center of the hall. Soon, he and Earl York would conduct their Divine Notarization here.

The Divine Notarization was a product born from the Church’s need to mediate disputes between lords, a method proposed only fifteen hundred years ago.

In the era of the Church’s peak power, friction between lords would be met with forceful intervention from the Church. But with the rise of the vassal system, the lords grew stronger while the Church’s influence waned. Lords began to handle their own disputes, often through small-scale wars and marriage alliances. When the knightly class began to gain power within the Church, they proposed the Divine Notarization to expand the Church’s influence and jurisdiction. Unfortunately, the lords didn’t buy it, and few took part.

But Victor had no choice. He was not qualified for a marriage alliance, and he was unwilling to become a vassal. To ensure the agreement would be enforced, the York family had proposed a Divine Notarization. The core of the agreement was this: Victor could not secretly sell Purple Cane wine to other lords; otherwise, the York family could attack him without Church interference. Furthermore, the Divine Notarization had another characteristic: it superseded inheritance rights. This meant Victor’s successors could not overturn the agreement between Victor and the York family.

Of course, Victor didn’t care about that last point. His heir would either be Marquise Sophia or that cheap brother of his.

Strictly speaking, for the York family to hold a Divine Notarization with Victor was detrimental to the interests of all lords—a betrayal of the noble class. However, the content of their notarization was highly unusual, as it was a supply agreement the likes of which had never been seen.

“When Father Conley reads out the price of eighteen copper coins per liter of Purple Cane wine, the look on his face will be priceless,” Victor thought, unable to suppress a smile.

Just as Victor was amusing himself, Earl York walked in, accompanied by Father Conley and his retainers, and hit him with the first sentence.

“Victor! You’re paying the donation for this notarization!”

Victor: “…….I’m not.”

——————————

While Victor and Earl York were bickering over the donation, inside the Black Fortress Town Magistrate’s Office, Monkey was reporting to his master.

“My lord, the Baron’s men used a type of dog I’ve never seen before to find Barol’s body.”

“What’s so strange about that? They wanted to know if Barol was really dead or if we were hiding him. The Wimbledon family’s reaction is too slow! The Verpan family’s people came looking for Barol days ago,” Magistrate Shax said with an unconcerned smile.

“My lord, what were they looking for Barol for?” Monkey asked, a hint of unease in his voice.

Monkey and Old John had seen Barol’s body. Although it had started to decay, Monkey had confirmed it was Barol from several moles on the body. Still, Monkey felt something was strange, though he couldn’t say what.

“What else? To vent their anger,” Shax said, his tone faint with a trace of disdain.

Chapter 79: The Spy’s Web

Victor’s caravan was on its way back. Compared to their arrival, thirty wagons laden with goods had joined his train. These were supplies the York family had provided to Victor on credit. When they returned to Black Fortress, they would need to bring back thirty full cartloads of Purple Cane wine as payment.

Barol sat awkwardly in the spacious carriage, his mind uneasy. The lord had summoned him into the carriage an hour ago but hadn’t said a word, merely resting with his eyes closed. Meanwhile, the lord’s maidservant toyed with a shortsword, watching him with a wary and curious gaze, tinged with a hint of malice.

Since the lord hadn’t spoken, Barol didn’t dare to either. Out of professional habit, he silently observed some details. The carriage floor was covered with a wool-blend carpet that was almost new and very clean. Although valuable, it couldn’t be called luxurious. For a noble to use such a carpet seemed a bit shabby. A noble with a proper heritage should at least have a whole bearskin, right?

This four-wheeled carriage was also strange. The carriage body was made of sturdy oak, but the exterior wasn’t clad in copper plating, nor was it carved with ornate patterns. The carriage’s undercarriage had a structure Barol had never seen before. The front wheels were smaller than the rear, and they were wrapped in some kind of lizard skin. Barol had been sitting in the carriage for an hour without feeling any noticeable bumps.

Outside the carriage, a dozen or so cavalrymen clustered around. These cavalrymen could be considered elite, but their movements had the air of mercenaries. Their weapons and shields were always placed where they could be easily reached, and most of them looked to be around forty years old. Barol was quite certain they were all mercenary-turned-guards.

Most importantly, there were no Knights in the caravan. It was rare for a lord to travel without a Knight. It was not only unsafe but also a great loss of face.

An unadorned carriage, mercenary guards, no accompanying Knight—from Barol’s experience, the owner of this caravan seemed more like a merchant than a noble. But Barol knew this was an illusion. The young lord before him was not only of noble blood but also possessed a deep heritage. Because he was a Baron of the Wimbledon family.

As a spy, Barol knew the Wimbledon surname had a long and storied history, traceable back several thousand years. Although the family had long since fragmented, their heritage was beyond doubt. Otherwise, how could the young Baron have a death commando serving him? And this death commando was now dutifully driving the Baron’s carriage.

Two days ago, when that driver had been about to execute the Sacred Warrior without hesitation, Barol understood that his opportunity had come. He knew that only a death commando would be so indifferent to a Sacred Warrior’s status. This also revealed three things: first, he was of value to this noble. Second, this noble was short on manpower, or he wouldn’t have sent a death commando to capture a small fry like him. Third, this noble had a profound heritage. Creatures as inhuman as death commandos could only be trained by major families. And a death commando comparable to an apprentice knight was something Barol had never even heard of, but now he had seen one with his own eyes.

Baron Victor lacked manpower but possessed an unfathomable heritage, making him the perfect candidate for Barol to pledge his allegiance to.

Barol resolved to show his worth. In his view, the Baron was testing his patience by leaving him hanging for an hour. So he sat there obediently, perfectly still. Patience was an important quality for a family’s secret agent.

People who want to climb the ladder always try to guess the thoughts of those above them, but it’s merely speculation. Victor was ignoring Barol because he was still sorting out the gains and losses from his trip to Black Fortress.

On this trip to Black Fortress, Victor had essentially achieved his goals. Forming an alliance of interests with the York family and maintaining the independence of his territory were both reflected in the exclusive rights agreement, which had been subjected to Divine Notarization.

The exclusive rights agreement stipulated that Victor’s domain would sell Purple Cane wine to the York family at a price of 18 Copper Sols per liter, which was equivalent to 9 Copper Sols per cup. This price would remain unchanged for thirty years. In return, the York family would open up their grain supply to Victor’s domain, but the price would be based on market rates.

Victor protested this. He demanded that the York family also set the price of barley at 3 Copper Sols per pound, fixed for thirty years, but Sylvia firmly refused. Sylvia had two reasons: first, the population of Victor’s domain would continue to grow, and second, Victor’s “wife” was manipulating the grain prices in the Kingdom of Gambia. Victor could buy cheap grain from Sophia.

Victor was speechless. It was obvious Sylvia would rather he buy grain from other lords; after all, she already had control of the Purple Cane wine. The fact that she was willing to sell him grain at all could be considered generous.

Then there were the Swiftbirds. Victor’s domain was required to provide the York family with two pairs of chicks for free each year, for eight years. The York family would purchase Purple Cane leaves from Victor to feed these large birds at a price of one Copper Sol for three pounds, for a duration of thirty years.

Victor was quite annoyed, not because of his opponent’s greed, but because the York family had infiltrated him so deeply.

The York family had demanded chicks directly because adult Swiftbirds had volatile tempers and would peck fiercely at their riders at the slightest displeasure, which was fatal for ordinary cavalrymen. To tame a Swiftbird, one had to start with a chick. Only then would the Swiftbird be completely obedient to its master. This was knowledge taught by Busuo, and not many people knew it, but the York family was clearly aware. Victor could imagine that in less than eight years, the York family would have their own flock of Swiftbirds.

In the end, Sylvia stated that the York family would not interfere with the coffee business, so Victor agreed to the unequal terms.

Victor was puzzled as to why the York family had given up on the coffee business. He didn’t understand why they had gone soft on the issue of coffee, so he asked Sylvia. But the beautiful Countess just smiled without a word, luring him to bed with her large, glistening eyes.

All in all, it was a very unfair supply and sales agreement. The York family didn’t even explicitly state that they would protect the vulnerable territory of Victor’s domain.

But Victor knew the agreement was unequal because their power was unequal. As long as the York family didn’t have their own source of Purple Cane, they would continue to protect Victor’s domain. If a power stronger than the York family coveted Victor’s Purple Cane, a protection clause in the agreement would be useless anyway.

However, Victor didn’t care. What he truly wanted to rely on was sugar. From another perspective, this agreement was more beneficial to him. Just as he hadn’t expected Purple Cane wine to have strategic value, Sylvia hadn’t expected Victor to have something like sugar. Now that the value of Purple Cane wine had surpassed that of sugar, he had already handed it over, which in turn protected the sugar.

“No one can plan for everything,” Victor sighed.

“My lord, what does that mean?” Lilia asked happily, hearing Victor finally speak.

“It’s nothing, just thinking aloud,” Victor said with a smile, having no intention of explaining.

Although Lilia was sharp as a tack and a quick learner, it would still take some time for her to become his assistant. Thinking of this, Victor turned his gaze to Barol, who was sitting opposite him.

“You’re the hyena chief who schemed against me?”

“My lord, I was forced! I couldn’t defy the magistrate’s orders. Please spare my life, My lord,” Barol explained, wiping cold sweat from his brow.

“Stop pretending. There’s no sweat on your head at all. When you first got on the carriage, you carefully examined the undercarriage and wheels, and your pupils constricted. After you got in, although you looked terrified, your heartbeat was steady, and you covertly observed the interior of the carriage. Am I right?” Victor sneered. Within two meters, none of Barol’s movements could escape his notice.

Barol’s face paled. He said in a strained voice, “The Verpan family’s steward proclaimed that my lord had not awakened his Knight’s talent. I never expected my lord to be a Knight.”

“Tell me your real identity,” Victor said, looking pleased with himself but maintaining a calm and nonchalant expression.

Barol once again wiped the cold sweat from his head. This time, it was real.

“Baron, I am a spy trained by the Griswold Family since childhood. I used to serve Duke Griswold, but after the Duke was hanged, I fled to Black Fortress Town and became a hyena chief.”

“Why did you willingly follow my man back?” This was what Victor was most curious about—not only had Barol prevented a huge problem, but he had also actively cooperated with Shak.

Barol glanced up at Victor before lowering his head again. “I believed that my lord might have a use for me, and I also wish to earn a living under your command.”

Since Victor didn’t mention the Sacred Warrior or the death commando, Barol wouldn’t bring it up either.

Victor gave a faint smile and said, “When I was little, I saw a gopher hole. I was curious what a gopher looked like, so I had a servant pour water into it. When the gopher ran out, I ordered the servant to stomp it to death. Lilia, do you think the gopher thought I needed it?”

Lilia blinked. She didn’t quite understand Victor’s meaning, so she answered honestly, “My lord, I’d usually have Old Ham roast it.”

Dark lines instantly formed on Victor’s forehead.

Fortunately, Barol was astute enough. He said in a low voice, “My lord, that’s because you realized the gopher was of no use to you.”

“Useful? That’s what you taught Monkey. You also taught Monkey to accept his fate. The irony is that you yourself were running for your life.”

Barol gave a dry laugh. “My lord, that’s just a method for training subordinates. All men fear death, and spies are men too. They will surrender under torture. They only commit suicide when there is truly no way out, just to suffer a little less.”

“That sounds sincere enough,” Victor nodded.

Barol was subtly telling Victor that he held no loyalty to the Griswold family and only wanted to serve under him. If he had gone on about loyalty and fearlessness, he would have been courting death.

Victor’s biggest hidden danger now was the assassin lurking in the shadows. He had no idea who the assassin was, or why they wanted to kill him. But to be able to use a Wizard as a killer, the assassin’s power must be astonishing.

From the current situation, Marchioness Sophia was the prime suspect, but the possibility was low. Therefore, Victor had tried to subtly probe Sylvia to see if Sophia had asked her to look after him. Sylvia avoided the topic, only telling Victor not to have any illusions about Sophia. Clearly, the Countess wanted Victor to give up on Sophia and join the York family’s camp, but she certainly knew nothing about the assassination attempt on him. Otherwise, she would have used it to make Victor submit.

Looking at some of the details, Victor was more inclined to believe that Sophia was trying to protect the little Baron, spending a great deal of money to arrange for him to take refuge in the Centaur Hills.

If the truth was as Victor suspected, it would be the worst possible outcome.

Victor didn’t actually know the extent of Sophia’s power, but it was absolutely bottomless. She was too wealthy. In his memory, Victor knew of at least four Knights stationed at the Marchioness’s residence. Sophia also had four merchant guilds under her name that traded between nations year-round, and their caravans were also protected by Knights. If even Sophia couldn’t protect the little Baron, just how powerful was this assassin?

However, Sophia sending the little Baron to the Centaur Hills suggested that she believed he would be safe as long as he was away from her. Not sending Knights to protect him seemed more like a form of exile, a gesture likely meant for the assassin to see. At the same time, she secretly asked Sylvia to take care of her little boy-toy, but she didn’t tell Sylvia the truth. A power she couldn’t afford to offend must be a huge problem.

Victor was anxious. He used X-3 to meticulously sift through all his memories but couldn’t find who the little Baron had offended, or what secret he might have discovered. For now, he could only be certain that Sophia definitely knew everything, and that if Victor returned to the Marchioness’s side, he would be finished.

Whoever you are, once I find you, I will make sure you die! Victor vowed to himself.

Barol, however, was scared half to death by Victor’s cold, intimidating gaze. He didn’t know if he had said the wrong thing, and now cold sweat was truly pouring down his face.

“Barol, tell me, how are a family’s secret agents trained?” Victor calmed himself and asked the old spy.

“My lord, assets aren’t trained; they are invested in. They could be a hooligan, a cleaner, or a merchant. Most assets don’t even know they are assets. We invest in them, build relationships with them, and observe their actions to gather a lot of intelligence. For example, by observing the daily routine of a noble’s coachman, we can learn the noble’s schedule,” Barol said cautiously.

“Aren’t you trained from childhood?” Victor was a little surprised, not expecting that the assets were all ordinary people.

“My lord, it is the spies who are trained by the family from childhood. A spy is like a spider, constantly weaving a web. The assets are our web, and intelligence is our prey.”

“Every spy has their own field. A spy who excels in business will have a web mostly composed of merchants and peddlers, and he will analyze intelligence from transactions. As for me, I was trained to be a ruffian since I was a child. I excel at mingling with the hyenas. Those hooligans, women of the night, and small-time bosses can all unknowingly become my assets.”

“So, do you still have a web now?” Victor asked curiously.

“My lord, a spy’s identity is ever-changing. Once an identity is exposed, the web is gone. That’s why spies are proficient in disguise and finding body doubles. This time, I faked my death to escape. On my journey, I found a freeman whose body shape and age were similar to mine. I secretly observed his movements and physical features, imitated his voice, and gradually used makeup to make my face look like his. Finally, I led my pursuers to his residence, making him my scapegoat.”

“You’re despicable!” Lilia scolded angrily.

Barol didn’t argue, just smiled bitterly. He had been trained this way since childhood.

“Indeed, it’s very despicable.” Victor patted the girl’s shoulder, showing that he was in the same trench as her. Unfortunately, he also had to cultivate these despicable spies.

“Barol, I’ll give you a chance to prove your worth,” Victor continued. “There are assets from other families, or even spies, among my subjects. I want you to dig them out. Can you do it?”

Barol said in a low voice, “My lord, if you want soldiers to fight, you must give them weapons. If you want farmers to till the land, you must give them tools.”

“What do you need?” Victor asked impatiently.

“I need time,” Barol said, gritting his teeth. He wanted manpower more, but he didn’t dare ask for it. He had to prove his own value first.

“How long?” Victor wouldn’t let him be evasive.

“My lord, I don’t understand the specific situation yet, but rest assured, I will definitely find them. A spy gathering intelligence won’t be exposed, but as soon as they try to transmit that intelligence, they will inevitably leave a trail. I am very familiar with the various methods of transmitting intelligence,” Barol quickly assured him.

“I look forward to your performance. Just report your findings to me secretly. You may go now.”

When Barol had left the carriage, Lilia asked Victor, “Victor, can this guy be trusted?”

“He can’t be trusted, but I’m going to get all of his methods out of him.”

Chapter 80: Fermentation

The Black River is a tributary of the Goldwater River, named for flowing past Black Fortress. It runs through the entirety of Victor’s domain. The Black River is no more than two meters deep at its deepest point, its water clear enough to see the bottom. It forms three lakes in the low-lying areas of Victor’s domain, the largest of which is Flatlake.

Flatlake Village was built on the shores of Flatlake. The village is bordered by the lake on one side and fertile plains on the other three, where the villagers of Flatlake Village have cultivated more than five thousand mu of farmland.

In the afternoon, some twenty villagers from Flatlake Village, accompanied by about ten militiamen, were harvesting Purple Cane.

Jim swung the sickle in his hand, rapidly cutting down the Purple Cane before him. He was breathing heavily, sweat dripping down his cheeks, and his arms were sore and swollen, but he had no intention of resting. Jim only wanted to finish the job as soon as possible and get out of this damned place, even though it was less than ten kilometers from Flatlake Village.

The farmers were silent, the only sound the continuous swish-swish of sickles harvesting the Purple Cane. Like Jim, everyone was working desperately, as tense as if they were stealing someone else’s crops.

Jim and the others were indeed stealing, for Victor had declared that no one, neither freemen nor subjects, was to harvest the domain’s Purple Cane without permission. To do so was to be considered a thief of the lord’s property. But that wasn’t the reason for their tension.

“Move faster! We can leave soon!” the burly militia captain barked, a trace of anxiety in his vigilant eyes.

No one replied, but the swishing grew more hurried. Jim also sped up the swinging of his sickle. The thought of leaving soon made him thankful that he hadn’t encountered that terrifying beast today.

More than twenty days ago, a dozen or so Mountain folk had sought refuge in Flatlake Village one after another. They told the villagers that a terrifying dire wolf had appeared in the domain. At first, the villagers didn’t believe them, but the Mountain folk’s vivid descriptions left everyone half-convinced. Just over ten days later, a villager finally witnessed the dire wolf the Mountain folk had spoken of.

In the days that followed, villagers working outdoors frequently saw the massive, ferocious beast. The militia captain, Bayr, organized a hunting party to try and corner the animal, but the hunt failed, and they lost a militiaman in the process.

The situation then worsened. The dire wolf seemed to have been provoked. It began to actively attack villagers working outside, and there were signs that it had made a nest near Flatlake Village.

Hyman held a cocked crossbow, vigilantly scanning the surroundings for any movement. As the person in charge of this Purple Cane harvest, he was under a lot of pressure. Ever since the dire wolf appeared nearby, the villagers no longer dared to stray far from Flatlake Village. Fortunately, the area around the village was all cultivated farmland with a wide, open view, making it relatively safe. The beast had never appeared on the open fields.

But Bayr had insisted on organizing the villagers to harvest Purple Cane several kilometers away, where that beast lurked in the dense Purple Cane forest. It showed no mercy to the humans who encroached on its territory, and several people had already been killed or injured by its sharp teeth. The villagers refused to go into the Purple Cane forest, but Bayr forced them to do so by drawing lots. Those who disobeyed would be driven out of Flatlake Village.

Many people couldn’t understand why Bayr was doing this, but Hyman knew.

Every so often, several carriages would come under the cover of night to secretly haul away the Purple Cane dregs, leaving behind some supplies. The crossbow in Hyman’s hands was one such item. This trade had been going on for some time. Hyman wasn’t sure who the other party was, but he guessed it was the people from the eastern camp. Right now, only they dared to ignore the lord’s authority in the entire domain.

“I hope nothing happens today.”

Hyman shifted the heavy crossbow to his left hand, the sharp bolt pointing toward the sky. To ensure their safety, they had moved to a more distant Purple Cane forest to harvest.

Jim had nearly reached his limit. His back ached so badly that he had to stop for a moment to rest. Jim used the towel around his neck to wipe the sweat from his face, then rubbed his eyes which were stinging from the salt. His blurry vision cleared, and then Jim saw a huge, monstrous wolf staring at him. Jim froze, his mind a complete blank. He stood there motionless, staring back at the beast, but his unusual behavior still caught the attention of his companions.

“Jim?” a villager asked him in a trembling voice.

The villager’s voice wasn’t loud, but it snapped Jim out of the paralysis of his terror. Just as Jim was about to let out a bloodcurdling scream, a vicious gust of wind knocked him to the ground, and he passed out.

When the giant wolf leaped out of the Purple Cane forest, no one had time to react. It lunged straight for Hyman, who was holding the crossbow.

A scream rang out, not from Jim, but from Hyman. In the blink of an eye, he was tackled to the ground by the giant wolf, his neck clamped firmly in its jaws. Blood sprayed from between the wolf’s teeth. With a single savage tear, the screaming stopped abruptly. Hyman’s head had been ripped off.

The militiamen were stunned by the horrific scene, but the giant wolf was already扑向 pouncing on the nearest militiaman.

At the brink of life and death, this militiaman summoned his potential and courage. He raised the longspear in his hands to block the fatal wolf’s bite, but he couldn’t stop the immense force. The beast dragged him to the ground, snapping the longspear in two with a single crunch. Seeing the bloody maw coming for him, the militiaman raised his arms to protect his neck and cried out desperately for help.

“Help me! Help me!”

Then, the militiaman felt the weight on him lighten. The giant wolf that had been pinning him down suddenly leaped away. Before he could understand what had happened, sharp pains shot through his body. He had been riddled with arrows by his own comrades until he resembled a porcupine.

“Aaargh!” The militiamen let out roars of anger and fear, firing desperately at the giant wolf. But the wolf was too fast; to the militiamen, it was just a blurry black shadow. In an instant, another militiaman with a crossbow had his throat torn open.

The giant wolf never lingered to tear at the corpses. It leaped and tore through the crowd. The militiamen were completely unable to resist. They fell into chaos, shooting their arrows wildly, but only ever managing to kill their own comrades. After the giant wolf killed the fourth militiaman, the group finally broke. They screamed in terror, dropped their weapons, and began to flee frantically, the wolf’s terrifying roars echoing behind them.

In the Purple Cane forest, a strong, fit man with a hunter’s bow on his back silently watched everything unfold. Behind him crouched two robust, giant dogs, and a large black crow was perched on his shoulder.

A short while later, the giant dog that had gone on the killing spree returned to the Purple Cane forest. As it passed the fainted farmer on the ground, it lowered its head to sniff him, then ran back to Jack’s side, wagging its tail.

Jack and his three Warhounds vanished into the boundless Purple Cane forest. They had been faithfully carrying out the mission their Master had given them: drive away, intimidate, and maim or kill those who threatened their safety. Those were Victor’s orders.

When Bayr arrived with a large group of men, he found only a scene of carnage and several mangled corpses.

“Only two were killed directly by that beast. The others were shot by their own men. What a bunch of idiots!” Mark spat angrily on the ground.

“If they had formed a defensive formation, that beast would have had no chance. They’ve completely forgotten their training,” one of Bayr’s old pals added.

Bayr said nothing, walking silently to Hyman’s body and placing his head back on his neck.

“Gary, are you sure this is a dire wolf?” Bayr asked, turning to a man with a full beard.

Gary took a few steps forward and squatted down, using his hand to measure a huge paw print. As an experienced Mountain folk hunter, he knew very well what this print meant.

“Chief, this is definitely the paw print of a dire wolf.”

“Don’t dire wolves eat people?”

Bayr examined the bodies. They were all where they had fallen, with no signs of being dragged.

“When a beast is full, it won’t eat people, but it will attack humans who invade its territory.” Gary smacked his lips; it was the only explanation he could think of.

Mark shot Gary a vicious glare. “This means the beast has made its nest here? We never should have taken you people in. You’re the ones who led this beast here!”

Gary’s face turned ugly, his eyes flashing with a menacing light, but he didn’t dare to argue. In Gary’s opinion, it was Bayr’s attempt to hunt the beast that had truly provoked it. Before that, the beast had only injured people, never killed them.

“It’s strange.” Bayr ignored the spat between Mark and Gary. He felt the attack was very peculiar.

“Look, the beast killed Hyman directly, causing our men to lose their commander. Then it attacked the other three crossbowmen. According to the survivors, it was very fast, biting one and then immediately pouncing on the next target without pause. This isn’t normal beast behavior. No matter the beast, it wouldn’t let go of its prey before it’s dead.”

“Finally, it even smashed the crossbows left on the ground! Could a beast really be that smart?” Bayr held up a mangled crossbow for the others to see.

“Chief, wolves are very smart animals,” Gary explained. “They know their prey’s weaknesses and who poses the biggest threat to them. They also hold grudges. It probably had a bad experience with a crossbow, so it would take out the people with crossbows first.”

“A pity about these crossbows.”

Mark checked the damaged crossbows and confirmed they were beyond repair. The camp only had ten such crossbows, and now four were destroyed.

“Chief, there’s someone alive here. It’s Jim,” a militiaman discovered the unconscious villager.

“Take him back. Bring the bodies of our brothers back too.” Bayr looked grimly at the black crows circling in the sky. He couldn’t let his companions’ bodies be defiled by these scavengers.

Back in Flatlake Village, Bayr led a few of his men into a wooden house where Village Head Dick and several other leaders were waiting for him.

“How is the situation?” Dick asked hurriedly as Bayr walked in.

Dick had become much more prosperous-looking, even sporting a potbelly. His clothes were clean and tidy, and he truly looked the part of a village head.

“Very bad!” Bayr said grimly.

“That beast has made its nest in the nearby Purple Cane forest. It will attack anyone who goes near.”

“Then what do we do? Bayr, you’re the militia captain, you have to kill that beast! If you can’t, then don’t even think about being captain anymore!” Dick stomped his foot and shrieked.

“Old man, are you looking for a beating!” Mark flew into a rage, grabbing Dick and raising a fist to strike him.

“That’s enough!” Bayr pulled Mark back.

“We can’t deal with that beast,” Bayr said dejectedly. “Its sense of smell is too sharp, and it’s too fast. We can’t corner it.”

“Fortunately, it won’t come onto the open plains. For now, just tell everyone to stay away from the Purple Cane forest. That’s all we can do.”

“Chief, I’m afraid that won’t work,” Gary stepped forward and said. “We tried to hunt it before, so it holds a grudge. Even if we don’t go to it, it will come looking for us.”

“Then what do you suggest? This is all trouble you Mountain folk brought on us!” Mark glared, slamming his hand on the table and shouting.

Gary ignored Mark’s shouting and spoke to Bayr in a low voice, “Chief, Flatlake Village is a village recognized by My Lord, and we’ve paid tribute. We can ask My Lord for aid. As long as Lord Narsen joins forces with you, you can definitely kill that beast.”

“What? You want to go crawling back to My Lord? Don’t forget, you were the ones who ran from the freemen camp! You think you can go back now?” Mark sneered.

Bayr didn’t speak. He understood what Gary was thinking. Gary just wanted Flatlake Village to surrender to the lord, so he could conveniently rejoin the lord’s ranks.

The other leaders were also silent, their positions awkward. The villagers of Flatlake all thought they were subjects of the lord, but only these few knew that wasn’t the case. If they asked the lord for aid, he might not blame the villagers, but he would never let them, the leaders, off the hook. But they truly couldn’t handle the current situation. It wouldn’t be long before the villagers demanded they seek protection from the lord. What would they do then?

Mark hadn’t thought that far ahead. He thought that even though Gary was annoying, his idea might work. He’d heard of the Bear of the Northlands’ reputation back in Dodor.

“Lord Village Head, isn’t it time you paid a visit to the lord?”

“I… I’m not going!” Dick shrank back. The last two times he went to Hill Camp to report on village affairs, Lord Victor hadn’t seen him, and Village Head Moline’s cold attitude made Dick realize he’d been found out.

Dick was full of regret. He had been following Victor’s instructions to promote the lord’s authority in the village, and most villagers recognized him as the village head, which had made Dick quite smug for a while. But one night, Bayr had held a sword to his neck and threatened to kill him on the spot if Dick didn’t cooperate. Dick knew Bayr was serious, so he had yielded. Thankfully, Bayr let him keep his title as village head, so Dick didn’t have much to complain about. He just hadn’t reported this to Lord Victor. In his view, staying on Bayr’s good side was key to survival, while the lord could be fooled.

“Gary, I won’t kill you. Take your people and get out of Flatlake Village.”

Bayr gave the cold order to the Mountain folk chief. A turncoat like him couldn’t be allowed to stay.

Gary’s face changed. He hadn’t expected Bayr to be so decisive. He stood up and walked toward the door without a word. As he reached the doorway, he said, “Bayr, of all the camp leaders, you’re the one I respect the most. But the biggest regret I have is leaving My Lord’s temporary settlement. A pity I can’t go back. Now, do you regret it?”

“You don’t understand anything!”

Bayr didn’t regret it. He had thought about this question carefully. When Victor had tried to recruit him, he had refused because he looked down on the young lord. No castle, no knights—following him meant no future, and he would have to give up his status and start from scratch. He wasn’t willing. Even after Narsen had spread the reputation of the Bear of the Northlands throughout the domain, he still looked down on Victor. He was a vassal of a Silver Knight, not some lowly mercenary.

Now that the Purple Cane in the domain was beginning to show its value, Bayr was even less inclined to join Victor. He knew exactly what Purple Cane wine was. Many of Dodor’s fortresses were built in strategic locations, and not all of them had a water source. Crude wine that could be stored for a long time was therefore especially important. Such a precious resource would only bring disaster to a minor lord like Victor.

Bayr believed that siding with Victor was a dead end. He had a better option.

Bayr pushed open a door. Inside, a woman was serving wine to a man who was gnawing on a roasted pork knuckle with one hand while the other fumbled inside the woman’s blouse.

Bayr waved his hand, and the woman obediently left the room.

“Hubert, there’s a dire wolf near the camp. I need your aid.”

“What do you want?” Hubert put down the greasy pork knuckle and asked nonchalantly.

“I need you to dispatch a Knight to help me kill that beast. Don’t deny it. The equipment you supplied me with is all standard-issue. I know you’re Lord Chapman’s men,” Bayr said, his eyes fixed on Hubert.

“Send a Knight deep into Victor’s domain? Are you crazy? Or can you afford the price?” Hubert sneered.

“The dire wolf has occupied the Purple Cane forest. If we don’t get rid of it, we can’t provide you with Purple Cane!” Bayr said, enunciating every word.

“That’s your problem. You have to solve it yourself. Our deal is equipment for Purple Cane, nothing more! And I can tell you, you’re not our only option. A new freemen camp has already been built elsewhere.”

“If you want to join us, then prove your worth. If several hundred men can’t even deal with one dire animal, what do you think the Lord will think of you?”

Bayr walked out of the room, his legs feeling incredibly heavy. He looked around, and many familiar faces greeted him eagerly.

“Do I really have to pile up bodies to solve this?” Bayr thought grimly.

Chapter 81: Victor’s Blueprint

Victor stood outside the village Moline had overseen, his heart filled with joy. This was the first village under his command, and the first step in taking control of his vast fief.

The village was built along a river, over 700 meters long and 500 meters wide, covering an area of about 35 hectares. A trench, four meters wide and over two meters deep, had already been dug around its perimeter. They just needed to divert water from the river to form a moat.

Victor noticed that the village fence was completely different from the one at Hill Camp. Its planks were laid horizontally. At its base was a foundation of crushed stone, from which eight-meter-high black posts rose at regular intervals. Connecting the posts were horizontal planks, fitted tightly together and locked securely onto the black posts, forming sections of a wooden barrier.

From the side, the black posts were arranged in pairs, both connected to thick wooden planks, giving the fence a thickness of 80 centimeters. It was both sturdy and aesthetically pleasing.

“Moline, this fence is quite special! Why are the posts black?” Victor turned and asked.

“My lord, the posts are made from the hardest Iron-oak, and the planks are processed from a slightly lesser wood, Hemlock,” Moline said proudly. “They’ve both been carbonized and oiled to prevent insect infestation. This type of fence is not only strong but also saves a lot of wood. It’s just a bit labor-intensive. We had to cut the Hemlock into sections, shape them into thick planks, and even carve out mortise and tenon joints. To make them even stronger, we hammered in round wooden pegs.”

“You’ve been very diligent,” Victor said with a smile.

Moline had indeed poured his heart and soul into building this village.

“My lord, this design was proposed by two of the freemen. They were also the ones who improved the carriage chassis and wheels. My lord, I hope you can make an exception and grant them the status of subjects,” Moline pleaded.

“Oh? How does their carpentry skill compare to yours?” Victor asked noncommittally. The two freemen were, in fact, Alchemical auxiliary soldiers he had created.

“My lord, their skills are far superior to mine, even better than the old master carpenter I once followed,” Moline said, his face flushing.

“I will consider it,” Victor nodded.

Moline had initially been chosen as a village group leader because of his carpentry skills, which also earned him Victor’s favor, leading to his promotion as the first Village head. If, back then, he had discovered someone more skilled than himself, he might have jealously tried to suppress them. Now, as a Village head, he hoped for more artisans in the fief. As they say, one’s position dictates one’s perspective, and Moline was a perfect example.

Flanked by his entourage, Victor walked into the village. Inside, apart from six erected arrow towers, the ground was completely bare.

“Why haven’t you started building houses?” Victor asked in surprise.

Hearing Victor’s question, the village group leaders exchanged uneasy glances. It was Lilia who stepped forward and explained in a low voice, “My lord, didn’t you say that all the houses in the village must be built with bricks? Most of the men have gone to build the brick kiln. That’s why no houses have been built here yet. But our current housing is still sufficient.”

Only then did Victor remember that this was indeed an order he had given before leaving for Black Fortress Town. Many had not understood the command, and several village group leaders had decidedly offered their Counsel to Victor, arguing that opening a kiln to fire bricks was a fruitless endeavor. But Victor had been adamant. Since the lord had made his decision, they had to execute it, whether they understood it or not.

“Then let’s put it aside for now,” Victor stated firmly. “The plan to fire bricks and build houses must be carried out. Not only will this village use bricks, but in the future, the livestock village, the blacksmith village, the carpenter village, and the textile village will all have buildings made of brick and tile.”

“By the way, since this village is built by the river, let’s call it Riverside Village. In the future, we will also convert the temporary settlement for the freemen into a farmstead. This way, Hill Camp, Riverside Village, and the temporary settlement will form a triangular area.”

As he spoke, Victor unstrapped the sheathed longsword from his waist and drew a simple map on the ground.

“We will reclaim 12,000 mu of arable land in this area to serve as your fiefs. It will be managed centrally to provide grain for the territory.”

The village group leaders’ eyes immediately lit up as they gathered around, their deepest desire being land. After exchanging glances, Dean, a village group leader, bravely asked, “My lord, the freemen’s settlement could be turned into a village with just a few modifications. This… may we ask who you plan to appoint as its Village head?”

Looking at the eager expressions of the group leaders, Victor shook his head with a chuckle. “Are you all so keen on farming? Does no one want to go to the blacksmith village, the carpenter village, or the textile village?”

“My lord, I don’t know much about those things, and I’m afraid I’d mess up your affairs. But I’m an expert at farming! My lord, just give that village to me, and I guarantee I’ll take good care of the crops!” said George, the leader of group two, patting his chest in assurance.

“My lord, give it to me! I…”

“What do you know about farming? My lord, give it to me! Back in my hometown, I used to manage a farmstead for a Knight Lord.”

The self-nomination from the leader of group two instantly set off a fierce squabble among the other leaders.

“Alright, that’s enough. We’re going to the Brick Kiln Village. We’ll talk on the way,” Victor said, stopping their argument and turning towards his carriage.

The carriage, pulled by the Giant Rhinoceros Beast, was spacious, but it became cramped with nine people inside. The six village group leaders and Narsen squeezed together, leaving more than half the space for Victor and Lilia.

“On this trip to Black Fortress, I traded Purple Cane wine for three months’ worth of grain. The value of Purple Cane is greater than you can imagine. Therefore, I will not be building more farmsteads, and some of you will have to go to the other villages.”

Except for Moline, the other village group leaders looked embarrassed. Victor could guess their thoughts. As the saying goes, different fields are worlds apart. These men were all from farming backgrounds; blacksmithing, carriage-making, and weaving were not their strengths. They worried they couldn’t do the job well and that their positions would be unstable. But Victor’s Alchemical auxiliary soldiers had already been deployed; he just couldn’t tell them that.

Victor took out a wooden box and opened it, revealing sparkling cane sugar inside.

“You’ve always been curious about what I do with so much Purple Cane each month. Now, I can tell you. This is our fief’s specialty product: sugar. Everyone, have a taste.”

Victor passed the sugar to the men opposite him, gesturing for them to try it. It was time for sugar to make its debut, so there was no longer a need for secrecy.

“Sweet, so sweet.”

“This is delicious.”

“It’s better than honey.”

As the men praised it, a comment from Hager, the leader of group five, caught Victor’s attention. He smiled. “Hager, you’ve had honey before?”

Hager paused, then bowed and said, “Yes, my lord. When I was in the Eastern Province, I would go into the mountains to find wild beehives and harvest the honey. Handing the honey over to the town’s Lord not only paid my rent but also earned me a reward.”

“I see,” Victor nodded, then continued, “Honey is very expensive. In the Royal Capital, one pound of honey can sell for ten Gold Sol. Our sugar has a purer taste than honey. I believe it can sell for two Gold Sol a pound.”

“My lord, doesn’t that mean we’re going to be rich?” Narsen’s eyes lit up as he grinned.

“Yes, we’re going to be rich,” Victor smiled back. “So, even if those specialized villages don’t produce anything for a while, I will subsidize you for two years to ensure your livelihood. I will also recruit more artisans to join us, so you don’t need to worry.”

His words dispelled the faint hostility that had formed among the village group leaders. The group arrived at their destination, chatting and laughing.

As Victor stepped out of the carriage, Linda approached with several guards. She bowed to Victor and said, “Good day, my lord.”

“Thank you for your hard work.”

Victor nodded. Though it was a pleasantry, their hard work was real. According to Victor’s orders, the entire Brick Kiln Village had to produce earthen bricks nonstop, operating in two shifts. This meant the people here couldn’t return to Hill Camp to rest, camping out in the open until the first large brick kiln was built.

Brick Kiln Village was the first specialized village Victor needed to build. As its name suggested, it was a village dedicated to firing bricks.

Although called a village, it was currently just a massive, rudimentary camp. It didn’t even have a fence, only simple wooden spikes placed around the perimeter for protection.

The Brick Kiln Village covered an area of about two square kilometers, with one side facing the river and surrounded by hills, making it convenient for collecting clay and water.

The open space of the village was a hive of activity, with hundreds of people toiling away. For a long time to come, they would have to eat and sleep here.

Some of them were responsible for felling the miscellaneous trees on the hills, stripping the branches and leaves, and leaving the trunks to dry in the open to be used as firewood for firing bricks. Some were tasked with digging clay from the hills, letting it dry in the open, then crushing and sifting it, leaving only fine, pure soil. Others fetched water from the river, moistened the pure soil, and kneaded it repeatedly like dough before using molds to form unfired bricks, which were then left to air-dry. Still others were firing earthen bricks in mound-like earthen kilns.

“Bring me a finished brick,” Victor ordered an attendant.

Soon, a fired earthen brick was brought to Victor. His Physique was now close to 9. He squeezed it hard, and the brick immediately crumbled, seeming particularly brittle. This made Victor frown.

Dean picked up the broken pieces, weighed them in his hand, and spoke.

“My lord, there’s a problem with the method used to fire these bricks. The clay was left to dry for too short a time. It needs to be weathered for at least six months before it can be made into bricks. Otherwise, it will be brittle like this.”

“Oh? Will bricks made from fully weathered clay be sturdy?” Victor asked.

“They’ll be a bit sturdier, but still not as good as a hardwood fence. Even a 1.5-meter-thick brick wall can be dug through by a Gnoll with its bare hands because it’s too brittle. Besides, firing bricks takes too long and requires a lot of labor, so we don’t usually use them to build houses. But brick houses are fireproof and don’t rot or warp, so many Noble Lords use them to build their manors.”

Moline chimed in, tactfully trying to persuade Victor to abandon the construction of Brick Kiln Village. But there was no way Victor would give up on building the kilns; it was the most fundamental part of his development plan.

“Go and bring Arlo and Asai here,” Victor said flatly.

Arlo and Asai were two Alchemical auxiliary soldiers, both loaded with construction skills. Victor had specifically promoted them to supervise the Brick Kiln Village.

“Arlo, explain the brick-making plan.”

“My lord, I will use the first batch of bricks to build a small brick kiln, replacing those earthen kilns. The second batch of bricks from that kiln will be used to build a drying chamber, a wind tunnel, and a large-scale brick kiln. With these facilities, production efficiency will increase tenfold. The third batch will be proper, quality earthen bricks.”

This was Victor’s goal. He wanted to build large-scale brick kilns. Only large-scale kilns could produce special bricks, and the quality earthen bricks could be used to build furnaces. With furnaces, the Alchemical auxiliary soldiers could produce iron and eventually build forges capable of producing Thorium equipment.

Victor wouldn’t produce these anachronistic products immediately, but the construction of the infrastructure could begin ahead of schedule. Once his power was consolidated, he could churn out these strategic resources, build indestructible castles, and arm a powerful Alchemical militia.

The development blueprint Victor had designed was this: use Purple Cane wine to buy time and space for development; use sugar and coffee to reap huge profits; use money to produce Alchemical militia and Warhounds to increase his strength. The infrastructure would meet the needs of his fief’s development. For example, the blacksmith village would forge weapons and equipment, making him self-sufficient and no longer reliant on the York family. As for farmland, Victor also had a solution. The people of this world didn’t know about terraced fields. With terraced fields, he could not only preserve the Purple Cane forest but also meet the fief’s food demands. However, he couldn’t build them just yet, or the York family would take countermeasures against him.

When could he be completely independent? Victor estimated he would need at least forty Alchemical militia. Such a force would be stronger than that of most Viscounts, but it was still nothing compared to the York family, who had at least a hundred apprentice knights. But Victor had another card up his sleeve. He possessed advanced technology. He could trade linen, ironware, sugar, carriages, and coffee from his specialized villages to gradually form an interest group, which might even include the York family. Once Victor’s castle was built, he wouldn’t have to bow to anyone.

By that time, Victor’s power would snowball, becoming unstoppable. As long as he had money, he could produce one Alchemical militiaman every twelve hours. He could overwhelm any enemy, no matter who they were, by sheer numbers.

A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. The Brick Kiln Village was the first step. The wood for firing bricks would be taken from the hills, and the clay collected from the same hills. These cleared hills would then be converted into terraced fields. The bricks produced would be used to build all kinds of infrastructure. Everything would fall into a virtuous cycle. As for environmental damage? What was that?

So, Victor spoke sternly to the village group leaders, “I require you to manage these people in shifts. You will eat and sleep here until the Brick Kiln Village is up and running. Is that understood?”

Victor’s severe tone made their hearts clench, and they quickly replied.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Very good. You may go about your work. I expect the Brick Kiln Village to be on the right track in three months.”

As the village group leaders went off to discuss their plans, Victor called over Narsen, who was being lovey-dovey with Linda.

“Narsen, you’re coming back to Hill Camp with me.”

Narsen looked a bit troubled. “My lord, a few more Mountain folk have run back recently, claiming they encountered dire wolves. I’d like to stay here as a Guard.”

“I’ll leave Reno here. Old Ham is already on alert, and more than half the guards are here. There won’t be any problems. Let’s go. I have something to discuss with you.”

What problem could there be? Victor was the one behind the dire wolves. Besides, two Lithe Ape militiamen were mixed in with these people.

After they boarded the carriage, Victor said to Narsen, “Did Lilia tell you about Barol?”

“She did,” Narsen replied honestly. Lilia stuck out her little tongue; she had taken matters into her own hands.

“I was going to tell your brother anyway, but you can’t do that again next time,” Victor said, giving Lilia an exasperated look.

“Okay,” Lilia meekly agreed, sidling closer to Victor. If Narsen hadn’t been there, she would have certainly pressed herself against him.

“I called you both here to tell you some secrets, but you must absolutely never tell anyone else! Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord,” Narsen nodded solemnly.

“I have a secret force at my disposal. You’ve probably already guessed. That’s right, Reno is one of my men.”

Victor had thought about it for a long time and decided to give Narsen and Lilia a heads-up. The number of Alchemical militia would only grow, and he couldn’t hide it forever. But he could mislead them. It was perfectly normal for a noble to have some secret forces. Barol’s misunderstanding had given Victor the idea.

“My lord, Lilia and I suspected Reno for a long time. Later, we saw that he was truly loyal to you, so we never dared to ask,” Narsen said with a grin. The fact that Victor was telling him this secret meant he was truly considered one of his own.

“Don’t ask about the specific details, and don’t tell anyone, including Linda. Secrets only bring danger to ordinary people. You should know that among our subjects, there are many secret agents and spies from the great Nobles,” Victor warned.

“My lord, rest assured, we will never speak of this,” Narsen said seriously.

Victor sighed. It wasn’t that he hadn’t considered the possibility that Narsen himself could be a spy, but he was willing to trust the mercenary. Perhaps it was out of loneliness; he needed someone he could trust.

“Another thing: I deliberately drove Bansen and Butz out of the camp. They established a freemen camp to gather those Mountain folk, and it was on my orders. So, there’s no need to patrol that area, to avoid any conflicts.”

“So that’s how it is. I was just about to report this to you,” Narsen said, scratching his head. He had already discovered the camp, located between the Chapman family’s land and Flatlake Village, with a population of over fifty people.

“And about Flatlake Village,” Victor added, “as long as they pay their tribute on time, I won’t touch them for two years.”

The output from Flatlake Village could alleviate Victor’s grain pressure. He decided to let them be for now; they were already being thoroughly suppressed by Jack anyway.

“I understand,” Narsen nodded.

With his instructions given, Victor closed his eyes wearily, thinking to himself.

Now, let’s see if that Barol can dig out all the hidden secret agents and spies.

Chapter 82: The Gaunt Reality

In the upper camp, there was an exquisitely designed wooden villa, Victor’s residence.

The villa had two floors. Victor was currently in the study upstairs, drawing a map. The black charcoal pencil moved constantly on the large whiteboard, and the rough map gradually became clearer.

Victor compared it with the parchment scroll in his hand and sketched a few more strokes on the map. This was an iron ore vein that Jack had surveyed, and Victor planned to build his Blacksmith Village here.

These days, Jack had been continuously transmitting some geographical information about the territory through the alchemical crow, and Victor gradually gained a rough understanding of the natural resources within the territory.

According to the markings on the exchange agreement, Victor’s territory was bordered by Baron Eskri’s domain to the north, Viscount Briatte’s domain to the northeast, Earl Chapman’s domain to the east, and extended twenty kilometers south of Hill Camp, totaling about twelve thousand square kilometers, but in reality, it was far more than that. Because the western side of the territory was ownerless land without borders, there were large stretches of continuous barren mountains, and beyond the barren mountains was the Great Marsh. If Hill Camp continued forty kilometers south, it would reach the magnificent Goldwater River.

According to the Lord’s Law, these ownerless lands were undeveloped territories, and Victor had the right to develop them, provided that he needed to build at least three castles to declare sovereignty. Victor couldn’t do it at the moment; he couldn’t even afford to build one castle. In fact, Hill Camp, Flatlake Village, and the Chapman family’s camp only controlled an area of over seven thousand square kilometers.

Within this area, Victor had already identified two Thorium mines, one iron mine, one Mithril mine, two lakes, a large area of sisal hemp, and a small area of flax. Victor planned to digest these resources first, and then develop other areas after he became stronger.

Once the Brick Kiln Village was on the right track, Victor planned to build a flax village and Carpenter Village first, and Blacksmith Village last. On the one hand, it was out of consideration for keeping a low profile, and on the other hand, Victor was still lacking two important resources for the large forge he wanted to build: oilwood and red crystals.

This world had no coal or oil, and using only firewood as fuel, the temperature of the forge would not be able to smelt alloys. Therefore, a kind of oil-rich wood was needed as fuel, and this was oilwood.

Victor had seen oilwood. When he was in the Marchioness’s estate, the fuel in the fireplace was oilwood, but it was called oil palm wood. Although oil palm wood was expensive, it could be bought. But what red crystals were, Victor was truly stumped.

Busuo told Victor that to forge high-quality alloy equipment, red crystals must be embedded in the forge to increase the furnace temperature. Therefore, Victor decided to put the construction of Blacksmith Village on hold for now. It would be best if he could find red crystals in the future, and if he really couldn’t find them, he would just produce second-class Thorium equipment.

A series of light footsteps came from outside the door. Victor knew it was Lilia even through the door. After a while, there was indeed a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Victor said, with his back to the door.

Lilia, carrying fragrant coffee, pushed the door open and said sweetly, “Victor, your coffee.”

Did I ask for coffee? Just as Victor was wondering if his memory was declining, Lilia’s shapely, rounded buttocks had already settled onto his lap.

It was only then that Victor noticed that Lilia was wearing a low-cut, waist-hugging maid’s dress, her loose long hair was wet, and she carried a fragrant scent on her body, clearly having just taken a bath. At this moment, she was looking at Victor expectantly with her watery eyes.

Lilia’s charming appearance made Victor’s heart flutter, and he reached out to hug her slender waist.

This little enchantress is becoming more and more seductive. The life of a noble is really decadent! A contented smile appeared on the corner of Victor’s mouth.

The attendants or maids of nobles are usually the children of vassals. Vassals will try every means to send their children without inheritance rights into the Lord’s castle to serve as servants.

Don’t look down on these humble servants; the competition for these positions is very fierce. The second sons and daughters of vassals do not have vassal status. When they enter the castle, they have the opportunity to receive education. If an attendant is appreciated by a noble, they may even become the family’s steward, or even a retainer or soldier. And maids with outstanding looks are at the beck and call of the noble Lords. Even if they cannot become a Personal handmaiden, as long as they can become pregnant, it is a step to the heavens, and a large number of vassals will be willing to marry her.

When Victor was in the Marchioness’s estate, there were also many beautiful maids serving him, but those women did not dare to covet Victor’s Bloodline, because at that time, Victor was the Marchioness’s nominal husband, and in fact, a little boy-toy. Those maids knew who the master of the Marchioness’s estate was.

Victor after his rebirth was even more pitiful. Bearing the title of Baron, he didn’t have a single person to serve him. He lived alone in the villa, and had to do everything himself, not to mention it was terribly deserted.

Now, the charming and lovable Lilia moved in to live with Victor, which gave the villa the taste of home, and Victor naturally doted on her.

Lilia’s face flushed with heat from Victor’s caresses, and she was secretly pleased. This was the first time she wore a long dress. This maid’s dress was specially made for her by a tailor that Linda found. Linda told Lilia that she was already the Lord’s Personal handmaiden, and the most important thing was to gain more favor while she was young and beautiful, so that she could give birth to a child with noble bloodline.

Lilia didn’t have so many thoughts; she just wanted to please her sweetheart. Therefore, she put on this sexy dress, and now it seemed that the effect was very good.

“Victor, what are you thinking about?” Seeing that Victor didn’t have any further actions, Lilia said in a soft, coquettish voice.

“I was thinking, Narsen and the others should have arrived at Black Fortress Town by now. I wonder how much money they can earn for me this time?”

Ten days ago, Narsen took seven carriages full of Purple Cane wine, as well as ten kilograms of coffee and two hundred and fifty kilograms of sugar, to Black Fortress Town. This was Victor’s first time selling sugar and coffee to the outside world. He told Narsen that the price of sugar could not be lower than one Gold Sol per half kilogram, and the price of coffee could not be lower than fifteen Gold Sol per half kilogram.

Victor was optimistic about the sales of these two commodities. The current sugar production was stable at around fifty kilograms per day, and coffee was much less, about one kilogram per day. If there were no accidents, the monthly income should be around four thousand five hundred Gold Sol. In that case, Victor could produce three Alchemical militia every month, and his castle could be built soon.

“My lord!” Lilia said in a spoiled tone. She was already like this, but Victor was still thinking about other things, which made the girl a little depressed.

Victor smiled softly, picked Lilia up by the waist, and walked straight to the bedroom.

——————————

Inside the Goat Tavern, the fat on Boss Weyrich’s cheeks trembled. Narsen’s deathly gaze made him feel frightened, but he still firmly said, “Sugar, twenty Copper Sol per half kilogram; coffee, two Silver Sol per half kilogram, My lord, this is the highest price I can offer.”

“You black-hearted bastard, you just said that sugar is more delicious than honey! Are you playing with me?” Narsen lifted the more than one hundred kilogram Weyrich into the air and shouted sternly.

Weyrich’s face was pale and covered in cold sweat. He pleaded bitterly, “My lord, I’m already taking a big risk with this price, it can’t be higher, the price you’re asking for is impossible, please believe me.”

Narsen despondently put Weyrich down. He knew Weyrich was not lying to him.

Two days ago, Narsen had already arrived at Black Fortress Town. He sold a full fifty barrels of Purple Cane wine to the York family and got two hundred Gold Sol. This money was only enough to buy grain. This time, he also needed to purchase ten sets of equipment, ten warhorses, twenty packhorses, and fifteen cattle. Victor’s territory now needed more transportation and mobility to meet the needs of trade and transportation.

Although this money was definitely not enough, Narsen was not worried. He also brought coffee and sugar. Narsen believed that as long as he sold these, money would not be a problem! Narsen was full of confidence about this.

Narsen did not try to peddle sugar and coffee to the York family. Victor had told him to be wary of the York family. So, Narsen went straight back to the Goat Tavern. Old John had already invited several bosses to come and see the goods, and didn’t even let Monkey help him find merchants.

Sugar and coffee conquered everyone. These bosses all said they were willing to take everything and demanded long-term cooperation, but the prices they offered were ridiculously low. In a fit of anger, Narsen drove them all away, only the fat Weyrich refused to leave, and then he gritted his teeth and offered the highest price, which was the price just now.

“Weyrich, what price do you offer for honey?” Narsen asked in a deep voice.

“My lord, our purchase price for honey is four Copper Sol per half kilogram, that’s the market price now,” Weyrich said while wiping his sweat.

“Ha! Then you’re giving such a good thing like sugar a price of twenty Copper Sol? Salt is twenty-two Copper Sol per half kilogram!” Narsen laughed in anger.

Weyrich wrung his fat hands anxiously. He really didn’t want to give up sugar and coffee. Intuition told him that these two things could make him a fortune, but the people on the opposite side were complete laymen when it came to business, and Weyrich really didn’t know how to convince them.

“My lord, the goods are good, but good things can’t necessarily sell for a good price. Sugar and coffee have not yet been recognized by the noble Lords, but you want to sell them at a noble price, how is that possible. Only I am willing to take this risk, the price I gave you is really sincere. I guarantee you that as long as the sales channels are opened, I will definitely increase the price for you.”

“How much will you increase it?” Narsen asked hopefully.

“Double it! Oh no no! Double it!” Seeing Narsen’s face turn green, Weyrich quickly changed his words.

“Can you tell me, why is this?” Narsen looked at Weyrich with icy eyes, and a leering aura arose spontaneously. He was sure that someone was playing tricks.

“My lord, we small merchants rely on caravans to make a living. If I sell to caravans at a high price, they will cut off trade with me, and I will be finished. Please understand!” Weyrich bowed to Narsen repeatedly.

“Caravans? The people in the caravans have never seen sugar and coffee, how can they give you a price? Do you think I’m a fool?” Narsen sneered.

“My lord, new commodities are always priced to the lowest. Things like salt cannot exceed the price of salt, things like tea cannot exceed the price of pine nut flour, this is the industry rule for caravans to purchase goods!”

Narsen was speechless. He still couldn’t believe that such good things were not even as good as salt.

“You go!” After a while, Narsen issued an order to evict the guest.

“My lord, please consider it! Please consider it!” Fatty Weyrich was pushed out by Old John again, just like last time.

The Goat Tavern was silent. After a moment, Old John asked in a hoarse voice, “Narsen, what do we do?”

“Use the Blood-eye Crow to send a message to My lord.”

Thank you again to all the book friends for their rewards and votes, this is the first update.

Chapter 83: The Caravan

Barol set down his wood-chopping ax and wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead. He had been working for two straight hours and was utterly exhausted.

Barol was miserable. Two months had passed since he’d arrived in Victor’s domain as a freeman and been assigned to work in Brick Kiln Village. Yet he had made no headway on the task Victor had given him.

It wasn’t that Barol was incompetent. As a professional spy, he was familiar with all the tricks of the trade. But how was he supposed to investigate anything when he spent over ten hours a day chopping wood, as tired as a dog?

However, Barol was not entirely without progress. He had observed a stunning phenomenon.

Before his very eyes, Brick Kiln Village, once a barren wasteland, had begun to take shape. The several hundred people who had originally been sleeping in tents had now moved into newly constructed shacks. The earthen kilns in the clearing had been dismantled, replaced by three brick kilns. An even larger, super-sized brick kiln was now under construction; he heard it would be operational as soon as its giant chimney, dozens of meters high, was completed. And all this had taken just over two months.

Barol didn’t know why they needed a chimney tens of meters high, nor why they needed such a massive brick kiln. But he did know that these freemen worked with astonishing zeal. And they were working for free! The kind where you only get food, no money. It was simply inconceivable. Were freemen who worked for free still freemen?

Barol soon understood the reason for their frenzy: they wanted to join the work point system. All the freemen in Victor’s domain knew that joining the work point system was like having half a foot in the door to the vassal class. And to join the work point system, one first had to become a subject of the domain, which required hard work. Last month, thirty people had already been promoted to subjects, and the village group leader had announced that six new villages were soon to be built in the territory. The first to join would have the best chance of getting into the work point system. This sent the rest of them into a howling frenzy, scrambling over each other to work.

As a veteran spy, Barol had learned much more, such as the existence of Hill Camp, the private mess hall, and so on.

Barol judged that the spies he was looking for were hidden among the members of the work point system. Only they would know the various goings-on within the domain, and only they could pass information to the outside. The only way to leave the territory was via the convoy to Black Fortress Town.

The scope had been narrowed, but Barol was troubled. How could he get into Hill Camp? The current members of the work point system had already formed a distinct class. They were all familiar with one another; the sudden addition of a new face would be hard to miss, especially since Barol was still a freeman. He was at a complete loss.

“Old Denver, come get your meat ticket!”

A fellow worker was calling for Barol to collect today’s reward.

The meat tickets were the reward! These round wooden tokens could be exchanged not only for fragrant wild boar meat but also for linen tunics, leather boots, gloves, sheepskin felt, and even the sweet Purple Cane wine.

Frustrated, Barol sighed and got up, heading toward the distribution point. A familiar figure blocked his path again. It was Shak.

“The lord wants to see you.”

Familiar person, familiar words, yet Barol’s mood was different. With a long face, he followed Shak to see Victor.

Victor was even more frustrated than Barol. He had already received a message from Narsen. The sales figures for the sugar and coffee had struck him like a cudgel, leaving him sitting stunned in his office for a long time.

Afterward, Victor flew into a rage. He believed Sylvia was deliberately making things difficult for him.

No wonder you gave up on interfering with the coffee. You were planning to deal with me all along! What is this? Do you really want to make me your pet?!

After venting his anger, Victor gradually calmed down and carefully reread the parchment letter. He noticed a certain phrase: caravan, trade rules, new product, price suppression.

Victor hailed from a Marquess’s household. He knew the Marquess’s family was the largest merchant in the Kingdom of Gambia, with four merchant guilds and a dozen caravans under its name, their trade network spanning almost the entire human world. But he didn’t know the rules of the caravan trade; no one had ever taught him such details.

To solve a problem, one must first understand it. Victor thought of Barol, so he ordered Shak to bring him.

Barol climbed into Victor’s carriage and saw the lord’s grim expression, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Good day, my lord,” Barol said fearfully.

Victor stared sternly at the terrified Barol and asked in a cold voice, “Have you found anything?”

“Yes, I have a few leads,” Barol said, forcing himself to be brave.

“My lord, the spies should be in Hill Camp. They could be guards, or they could be subjects, but I can confirm they are members of the work point system. They must be using the convoys to pass information. So, please, my lord, promote me into Hill Camp so I can continue my investigation.”

Victor was silent for a moment. This was what he had expected, but he needed Barol to solve another problem now.

“Put that aside for now. Take a seat.”

Victor turned to Lilia. “Lilia, make a cup of coffee for Barol. Add sugar.”

Lilia took out a silver cup, skillfully placing the brown coffee powder and crystalline sugar inside. As boiling water was poured in, a rich aroma filled the air, making Barol’s spirits lift.

Barol took a careful sip. A sweet, fragrant taste spread across his taste buds, seeming to penetrate deep into his lungs. He couldn’t help but sigh in admiration.

“How fragrant!”

“I’ve had many expensive drinks, but none can compare to my coffee. Yet, this coffee won’t sell for a good price. The merchants are only willing to buy it at an extremely low price. Can you tell me why?”

Victor knew that Barol, who had regularly collected the customary cut from merchants, knew them better than anyone.

The lord’s question made Barol blink. He thought for a moment, then said to Victor, “My lord, if you sell this drink to merchants, you indeed won’t get a high price. Merchants pay for goods according to the caravans’ rules. If they pay too high a price, the caravans will cut off their supply, which is tantamount to smashing their own rice bowl. In truth, small merchants are appendages of the caravans; they must protect the caravans’ interests.”

Victor finally understood. The caravans were the merchants’ bosses. The caravans dictated the purchasing price, and the merchants were powerless to resist. Otherwise, if their supply was cut off, how could they do business?

“It seems the problem lies with the caravans,” Victor murmured to himself.

“Barol, what do you know about caravans?” Victor asked again.

Barol found it a little strange. The lord was clearly a Baron of the Wimbledon family, so how could he not know about caravans? The Wimbledon family was a commercial nobility now!

“My lord, I don’t know much about caravans, only some common knowledge. Caravans are generally formed by vassals at their liege lord’s direction, mainly to trade goods with other territories. But a caravan’s survival isn’t easy. They are divided into private merchants and official merchants.”

“So-called private merchants are caravans that come to trade in a territory without the lord’s permission. Such caravans are usually investigated and dealt with by the lord—their goods are confiscated, and their people are either imprisoned or expelled. They aren’t even allowed to pass through. So, private merchants have to travel along the borders of territories, which are usually mountainous areas where monsters and beastmen are active, not to mention bandits. The risk is immense. If things go wrong, the entire caravan can be massacred.”

“Official merchants are legal caravans. They pay tax to the lord, after which they can trade within the territory,” Barol explained to Victor.

“Then how does a caravan become an official merchant?” Victor asked in a low voice.

“My lord, a caravan flies its family banner, and the lord decides if it is an official or a private merchant. Allied or neutral families are considered official merchants, though the tax they pay differs. Hostile families, well, they’re private merchants. So, the same caravan can have a different status in different territories.”

“My lord, the Wimbledon family’s caravans are official merchants who can pass anywhere unimpeded. You could have your own family manage this coffee. It would surely sell for a high price!” Barol suggested.

Victor now understood many things. The relationships between lords were complex. A caravan passing through allied or neutral territory was no problem, but passing through the lands of a hostile family was a risk. They had to either go around or sneak along the borders. This was, in effect, a blockade.

The Wimbledon family could trade freely between kingdoms because the family had long since collapsed. It had lost its lands, and its members were scattered everywhere. Though connected by name, they didn’t answer to one another, which suited the needs of other lords. Even hostile families had a need to trade with each other, so they required intermediaries. A family that had lost its territory, possessed no military strength, and had a loose structure became the best choice. These families became the commercial nobility.

The greatest feature of the commercial nobility was their fragmentation. Apart from sharing a surname, they were like strangers to one another. For instance, Victor’s own father held a baronial title but was utterly destitute, while the old Marquess Wimbledon was fabulously wealthy.

Barol suggested that Victor contact his family’s caravans, but how was that possible? Right now, all Victor wanted was to stay away from Sophia, not get entangled with her again.

“I understand. You’re dismissed for now. I’ll have another assignment for you in a while,” Victor said faintly.

After Barol left, Victor said to Lilia, “Lilia, we’re going back to Hill Camp.”

“Okay!”

Lilia leaned into Victor’s embrace, wrapping her arms around him gently. “Victor, are you alright?” she asked, her voice tinged with worry.

Victor’s earlier outburst in the office had terrified Lilia. She had never seen him so furious.

“I’m fine,” Victor said, shaking his head. “Lilia, tell me a story.”

“Huh?!” Lilia was dumbfounded. What did he mean, tell a story? She didn’t know how!

“Tell me about your experiences protecting caravans,” Victor said, affectionately pinching Lilia’s elegant nose.

“Oh, we usually take jobs at taverns. One time, we accepted a mission to escort a caravan. At first, we traveled through safe areas, but after leaving that territory, the caravan started moving along rugged mountain roads. We mainly had to guard against bandit attacks and clear out monsters blocking the path. In the end, we encountered a well-equipped bandit group. It was a bitter fight. They even had three apprentice knights among them. Luckily, the caravan had its own apprentice knight guards. We managed to repel the bandits, but we also lost four companions,” Lilia said softly.

“Ha, a bandit group with apprentice knights? Weren’t they just the local lord’s men in disguise?” Victor scoffed.

“Yes. That’s why my brother didn’t kill those apprentice knights, just a lot of the common bandits. We all know they belong to the lord. In fact, many bandit groups have ties to lords. They specialize in ambushing certain caravans,” Lilia said with a nod.

Victor fell silent for a moment, then asked, “How strong are the caravans themselves?”

“Quite strong. Some caravans even have Knights as guards. There was once a Knight who came to the tavern to hire mercenaries. He hired three mercenary companies at once and offered a very high price, but we didn’t dare take the job. Later, we heard that caravan was wiped out by a band of robbers. The hired mercenaries suffered heavy casualties, and only a few escaped. Everyone knew it was the lord’s doing.”

Lords of the same kingdom could not attack each other at will, but they could blockade the caravans of hostile families, refuse them entry, or levy exorbitant taxes. These tactics would force the caravan to take the border routes, where the lord could then send men disguised as bandits to intercept the caravan, steal its goods, and weaken his rival. In fact, Victor had had similar experiences.

“Do caravans ever take particularly remote paths?” Victor asked.

“They do, but that requires a great many guards because Gnolls will track the caravan all the way. At night, they attack constantly. They don’t want the goods; they just want to abduct people. A journey like that can’t be long, or the Gnolls will just gather in greater and greater numbers until no one can escape. We won’t take a mission like that unless at least four mercenary companies are involved.”

“Victor, why don’t we form our own caravan! That way, we won’t have our prices pushed down,” Lilia suggested. She was certain the sugar was worth a fortune, because it was Victor’s invention.

“We will build a caravan, but now is not the time,” Victor said with a shake of his head and a smile.

A caravan was easy to build, but who would receive the goods? Would the buyer not also suppress the price? At the same time, he would face the problem of high taxes. Victor had no allies right now, because their strengths were not on the same level. To increase his strength, Victor needed money. It was a vicious cycle.

“Then what do we do?” Lilia asked, worried.

Victor smiled. “We won’t sell sugar anymore. We’ll give it away!”

“Give it away?!”

Lilia quickly reached out and felt Victor’s forehead, worried he had a fever. Victor didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as he caught the little hand that was fumbling over his face.

“Notify Narsen. No more haggling. For every pound of coffee sold, give away half a pound of sugar. Destroy all of the remaining sugar. And one more thing: the coffee is not to be sold to any Wimbledon family caravans. From now on, we will only sell raw sugar and coffee!”

Chapter 84: Different Methods, Same Goal

As the core fortress of the York family, Black Fortress was a hub of military, political, and economic functions. Countless attendants scurried through it, carrying all manner of documents and transmitting the York family’s will to every corner of their domain.

Walking behind the Scribe, Max, down a long corridor, a man named Walter watched these well-trained attendants work with tense and orderly diligence, and he couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy.

“Your Excellency Walter, Earl York’s time is precious. You have only one hourglass. You may go in now,” Max said politely, pushing open a heavy oak door.

Walter smiled and nodded at the scribe, straightened his collar, and took a deep breath before walking into the room.

Inside, Walter found the Earl. The plump, pale Earl York was sitting behind a massive desk, writing furiously. Whenever beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, a beautiful maid would immediately use a white cloth to wipe them clean.

Fat men often possess a special affability, making others feel at ease in their presence—or leading them to be underestimated. Walter would never underestimate Earl York. As a vassal of Marquess Leopold, he was well aware of the gap between his own family and the York family.

Although the Leopold family held the rank of Marquess, they were court nobles, and their family lands were pitifully small, only the size of a viscounty. Marquess Leopold was a staunch supporter of Grand Duke Williams, and he had always hoped to leverage the Grand Duke’s influence to become one of the top commercial nobles in the Kingdom of Gambia.

And Walter was the person in charge of his family’s caravans. Therefore, Walter knew that the unassuming fat man before him was the decision-maker for the York family’s foreign trade. For years, it had been he who had managed the York family’s business affairs, keeping them in perfect order.

Earl York finished the document in his hand, then looked up at Walter and asked arrogantly, “Speak. You wished to see me. What is it?”

As soon as he finished speaking, the maid beside him placed an exquisite crystal hourglass on the desk. The fine white sand began to flow down relentlessly.

Faced with this disdainful attitude, Walter showed no dissatisfaction. He gave Earl York a deeply respectful bow, gently placed a black wooden box on the desk, and said humbly, “My lord Earl, good day. I bring greetings from Marquess Leopold. This is a gift from him to you.”

The wooden box was plain and unremarkable, but the fiery red crystal inside was eye-catching. The crystal’s surface was smooth and translucent, its interior a flawless, pure red. Earl York ran his finger over the crystal’s surface and felt a distinct warmth.

“A flame crystal?” Earl York asked in surprise.

“Yes, my lord. It is indeed a flame crystal,” Walter said deferentially, a hint of pride in his eyes.

Flame crystals were a type of extremely rare element crystal. Besides their beauty, their most important characteristic was their ability to gather elemental energy, making them a crucial material for forging top-tier Knight equipment. While Mithril equipment allowed an Extraordinary Knight to fully unleash their own elemental power, Mithril equipment inlaid with an element crystal could amplify that power.

However, for a Knight, greater power was not always better. Knights placed more emphasis on the balance of elemental flow; uncontrolled power would only become a burden. Thus, only Silver Knights at their peak and Gold Knights had the ability to handle element crystals. It was for this reason that element crystals could not become a vital strategic resource like Mithril, as top-tier Knights were even rarer than element crystals. Gradually, element crystals had become gifts exchanged between nobles.

In terms of value, earth and water element crystals were the most prized, as most Knights had an affinity for earth and water. Next were wind element crystals, and last were fire element crystals, for Knights with a fire affinity were as rare as a phoenix’s feathers. Even so, for a compatible Knight, a flame crystal was irreplaceable.

Faced with a flame crystal of such high quality, Earl York’s small eyes crinkled into a smile. While nonchalantly removing the hourglass from the table, he said to Walter in a friendly tone, “Marquess Leopold is too kind! Oh, look at me, in this poor, remote place, I have no suitable gift to send in return. You must give the Marquess my regards.”

Walter: “…”

“My lord, I’ve heard that there’s a type of Purple Cane wine in your domain that is said to be comparable to Juniper wine. I was hoping to purchase some from you,” Walter requested earnestly.

Earl York blinked, spread his hands, and said innocently, “Purple Cane wine? I don’t believe I’ve heard of it.”

Walter paid no mind to Earl York’s attitude. He wasn’t naive enough to think a single flame crystal would make the Earl hand over the Purple Cane wine, but anything could be negotiated as long as it was business.

“My lord Earl, I am willing to pay a price of forty-five Copper Sol per liter to purchase this Purple Cane wine from you,” Walter offered, naming a high price.

Earl York smiled and shook his head. Although his family now controlled the Purple Cane wine, this kind of commodity only grew more valuable with age. It was not yet time to sell it externally.

“Fifty-five Copper Sol per liter.”

Seeing Earl York unmoved, Walter considered for a moment before naming an even higher price. He had not forgotten the Marquess’s orders: the family was determined to acquire the Purple Cane wine.

Earl York’s smile vanished, his expression turning serious. A sharp glint flashed in his small eyes, but he remained silent.

“My lord, our two families are allies. This is already a most sincere price. Please, in light of…”

Seeing Earl York’s noncommittal stance, Walter grew anxious. He had just started to speak when the Earl raised a hand to stop him.

“Thirty Copper Sol per liter,” York said with a smile.

Earl York had taken the initiative to lower the price, but Walter felt no joy. His heart sank.

“Let me guess… you’ve opened up that trade route? The Sasan Empire is impossible. Dodor has always been close to Marchioness Sophia. The Kingdom of Naville also has deep connections with Marchioness Sophia. It’s said she has a secret trade route straight to the Sasan Empire, bringing back large amounts of grain from the north every year, and it goes right through Naville. So, it’s Naville, isn’t it?” Earl York’s smile was very kind.

“Yes, it’s Naville! Naville has a close relationship with the Kingdom of Ayr, and our Grand Duke Williams happens to enjoy a close private friendship with several Cardinals. So, the Grand Duke smoothed things over for you,” Earl York said, standing up and clapping his fat hands with a laugh.

York walked over to Walter’s side and patted his shoulder with an almost cloying warmth. “Walter, our two families are allies. How could I possibly profit from you? We should be making money off the people of Naville together! Look, you have the trade route, and we have the Purple Cane wine. We’ll split Naville’s iron goods fifty-fifty. It’s settled!”

“That’s impossible! You have no idea what price we paid for this trade route!” Walter refused Earl York’s proposal, incensed.

“Opening a trade route is certainly not easy. It’s only right that the caravan takes the lion’s share,” Earl York nodded in agreement, but then his tone shifted. “But what will your caravan sell when it gets to Naville? Or rather, what do you have that can entice them? Wool? Linen? Livestock? Grain? For those goods, only the Ephesus family can compete with the Wimbledon family. You’re not up to it yet! The Marchioness could ruin you with a simple price suppression.”

“That’s right! Juniper wine is a commodity Sophia hasn’t meddled with yet. However, I’ve heard that Sophia is getting quite close with Andre from the Kingdom of Borea. Who knows, she might get the rights to distribute Juniper wine very soon. If you don’t move quickly, even with that trade route, you won’t be able to change the current situation.”

Walter’s face was pale as he shook his head. “My lord, that is impossible! Since you’ve guessed that His Grace the Grand Duke arranged this, you should understand that your proposal goes against the Grand Duke’s will.”

The York family was a formidable military noble house. It was almost impossible for them to open a trade route on their own. It was hard to imagine that the other crocodiles would permit another giant crocodile to crawl around beside them. Only harmless families, like the relationship between a toothpick bird and a crocodile, could achieve success in commerce. For Earl York to demand a fifty percent share was no different from becoming the caravan himself, a situation Grand Duke Williams would never allow.

“Then I’ll just store the Purple Cane wine for thirty years. We lose nothing,” Earl York said with a shrug, unconcerned.

Silence fell in the room as both sides calculated how to break the stalemate. After a long moment, Walter said to Earl York, “My lord, a fifty percent share of the iron goods is impossible! Forty Copper Sol per liter for the Purple Cane wine. We will sell you a thirty percent share of the iron goods, but the price will be eighty percent of the price in the Royal Capital.”

“Deal!” Earl York agreed immediately, without haggling.

The Earl’s decisiveness stunned Walter. He didn’t know if he had fallen into the fat man’s trap, but he no longer had a choice. Just as Earl York had said, having a route without goods was useless.

Since the matter was settled, Walter stood up to leave. “My lord, then I will take my leave.”

“Wait! You still have a tax to pay.”

Earl York called Walter back and retrieved a parchment document from under his desk, handing it over.

The contents of the document shocked Walter. He said, “My lord, did your tax collector miscalculate? For this commodity called ‘coffee,’ our purchase price was merely six Silver Sol per pound, and we only bought twenty pounds in total, yet you want us to pay a tax of one hundred Gold Sol?”

“The tax on coffee is only fifty Gold Sol. The other fifty is for the sugar,” Earl York said with a grin.

“But the sugar was a gift!” Walter argued.

“Walter, I’m well aware that联合压价 (joint price suppression) is standard practice for caravans, but I’m also well aware that coffee will sell for at least fifty Gold Sol per pound in the Royal Capital. A total tax of one hundred Gold Sol is not expensive at all! Without sugar, the value of coffee would be greatly diminished. In any case, coffee with honey doesn’t taste very good.” York smacked his lips. He had already tried coffee with honey.

“As you wish, my lord.”

Walter didn’t argue further, readily paying the supplemental tax. Inwardly, however, he was triumphant. When I get this coffee to the Royal Capital, it’ll sell for at least one hundred Gold Sol per pound.

As Walter was leaving, Earl York added, “Remember to tell your Marquess that the coffee, sugar, and Purple Cane wine are all the masterworks of Baron Victor Wimbledon. But Baron Victor did not entrust the management of these goods to his wife.”

Walter suppressed his shock and hurried away.

“My lord, are we really going to sell the Purple Cane wine to the Leopold family now?”

Max looked at Earl York with some concern. Cellaring the Purple Cane wine was the family consensus; everyone believed that ten years from now would be the best time to sell it. And the terms Earl York had negotiated with Walter were not particularly favorable.

“Of course! Purple Cane wine is a good thing. But good things need to be known. Tell me, if the people of Naville get used to drinking Purple Cane wine, and I suddenly cut off their supply, do you think they might just open a trade route to us themselves?”

“My lord is brilliant!”

Max was utterly convinced by Earl York’s keen business intuition. Opening a trade route was very difficult for the York family, but now, with the Purple Cane wine, they effectively had numerous free trade routes. These caravans would flock to them with all sorts of goods the family needed, and the family could line their pockets just by collecting taxes. The prerequisite was that people had to know the reputation of Purple Cane wine.

“By the way, did Victor’s people really destroy all that sugar?” York asked his confidant.

“It’s true. Our men saw it with their own eyes. They poured all the sugar into a sewer,” Max confirmed with a nod.

“Give it away but won’t sell it! And he destroyed such fine sugar! That boy is a truly willful spendthrift!” York said, his voice full of regret.

Fat York had a particular fondness for sugar. Now, apart from the small sample he had intercepted from Walter, he would have to wait for the next caravan from Victor’s domain.

——————————————

In the temporary settlement for freemen in Victor’s domain, several children were wolfing down roasted pork chops. Although they were all thin and frail, their eyes were fierce and wary, like little wolf cubs.

“My lord, these are the orphans brought back as you requested. The oldest is eleven, the youngest is eight. Five boys and three girls, none with disabilities,” Narsen introduced them to Victor.

“Once they’ve eaten their fill, have someone take them for a bath, give them four huts, and in a few days, I’ll arrange for someone to come and pick them up,” Victor said with a nod.

“My lord, are these orphans of any use to us?” Narsen asked curiously. In his view, there was absolutely no need for the family to take in orphans.

“You have to start them young,” Victor quipped. Unfortunately, Narsen had no idea what he was talking about.

In truth, Victor was preparing to establish a training camp, specifically to cultivate spies loyal to him. The instructor would be Barol. The family’s spy training was harsh, but it was better than these children dying in a gutter.

Narsen wasn’t going to worry about a few more orphans living off the camp. He had more pressing questions for Victor.

“My lord, this time our coffee only sold for forty Silver Sol. The sugar was all destroyed per your command. Therefore, I was unable to buy any equipment, but the dairy cows and packhorses have all been purchased.”

“Are you wondering why I had the sugar destroyed?” Victor asked with a gentle smile.

“Yes. My lord, even if these caravans drive down the price, we could form our own caravan. There’s no need to destroy such a fine product,” Narsen said, his voice tinged with anguish.

When that crystalline sugar was poured into the sewer, countless onlookers gasped in astonishment. That boss, Weyrich, had been stomping his feet in frustration.

“We can’t form a caravan for now, but we can make the caravans come to us,” Victor shook his head and continued, “I ordered the sugar destroyed in order to sell both the sugar and the coffee for a much higher price later.”

Over the past ten days, through the descriptions of spies, mercenaries, his subjects, and the Mountain folk, Victor had come to understand the reason for the cold reception of his sugar and coffee.

Victor had always assumed that by controlling the unique Purple Cane resource and the technology for making sugar, he had a monopoly. But that wasn’t how reality worked. Here, only the caravans held the monopoly. It was not surprising. In the Middle Ages, when black pepper from the East reached the West through the hands of Arab merchants, it could be exchanged for an equal weight in gold. Therefore, the Arab merchants were the monopolists.

Victor thought it over carefully. Sylvia had likely given up on coffee because, while good, it wasn’t a necessity. It was the same for sugar, which was why they were subject to price suppression from the caravans. But why was honey so expensive?

Victor believed that honey here was like a luxury item, used to display one’s status. A noble who didn’t consume honey was a fallen noble and would be despised by their peers. To make sugar a luxury item, Victor needed a little time for the nobility to recognize sugar’s high status.

Victor had Narsen destroy the sugar in Black Fortress Town precisely to tell people that sugar was to be destroyed rather than consumed by common folk. Through the coffee, the sugar would also circulate within noble circles. Next, Victor would only sell raw sugar to the common people, and the nobles would slowly come to accept the prestige of refined sugar. When the nobles wanted to buy refined sugar, he would refuse to sell. Furthermore, Victor would gradually decrease the amount of sugar given as a gift with coffee. The caravans would naturally have to come to him. At that point, Victor would have regained his monopoly.

After Victor explained his strategy in detail to Narsen, Narsen listened, dumbfounded.

“My lord, won’t the caravans join forces to boycott us?”

Impressed as he was, Narsen was also worried. He had approached more than one caravan in Black Fortress Town, and not a single one was willing to offer a high price.

“Narsen, can you hold air in your hand?” Victor asked in return.

Narsen clenched his fist abruptly. The immense force made a crackling sound as the air in his hand was compressed, and then he shook his head. “I can’t hold it!”

What a monster! Victor roasted him internally, filled with envy.

“Good things are like air,” Victor said faintly. “You can’t stop them. It just takes a little time.”

Chapter 85: Vigilance in Peacetime

Victor stood on the training ground, blindfolded and holding a longsword. He was surrounded by eight Iron-oak targets. Taking a deep breath, he entered the Apocalypse state. Though he could not see, the subtle currents of air flowing across the training ground formed a three-dimensional image in his mind.

This image clearly revealed all information within a twelve-meter radius. He could easily “see” the grain on the Iron-oak targets, and even “see” seven ants scurrying across the ground. Of course, he wasn’t seeing any of this with his eyes; rather, the ubiquitous wind elements were transmitting all the information to him.

The most marvelous part was that, with X-3’s help, Victor’s skin could sense the air’s humidity, temperature, and flow speed. His sense of smell distinguished the various scents pervading the air, and his ears could hear eighteen heartbeats from dozens of meters away. All this information was filtered and sorted by X-3, forming an even larger image in Victor’s mind.

In this image, everything within twelve meters was clear and slow, while beyond that, it grew progressively blurry and fast, dissolving into chaos at seventy meters. Even so, Victor clearly knew that forty meters away stood fifteen guards armed with hunting bows, and he knew each of their positions. Through the differences in their heartbeats and scents, Victor even knew each of their identities.

Seeing Victor raise his longsword, Lilia bit her fine, white teeth and commanded, “Do not aim for the lord’s head or neck! Fire at will!”

The guards looked at each other, hesitating to loose their arrows, even though the shafts were headless and posed no threat to Victor in his thick leather armor.

Baritt, the mercenary commander and instructor for the camp guards, scowled. He was infuriated by their timidity. He raised the long whip in his hand and cracked it hard across one guard’s back, roaring, “Follow your orders!”

The guards finally shot their arrows at Victor, forty meters away. The headless shafts flew at a speed of about one hundred meters per second, reaching Victor in an instant.

Victor sensed Lilia’s worry, the guards’ fear, and Baritt’s indignant shame, but none of it concerned him. Faced with such a flood of information, X-3 helped Victor discard all useless emotions and distracting thoughts. At this moment, he was as calm as a robot.

In Victor’s perception, the fifteen arrows flew toward him from all angles, their speed decelerating—slowing, and slowing, until they became incredibly sluggish upon entering the twelve-meter range. Victor knew it wasn’t the arrows that had slowed, but his brain’s processing speed that had increased, creating the illusion of time standing still.

A faster brain did not mean faster reflexes. An ordinary person might be able to see the slowed arrows, but their stiff, sluggish movements would still be unable to dodge them.

But Victor’s speed far surpassed that of an ordinary person. Within this near-stagnant illusion, his body was wreathed in a faint breeze that made his movements both swift and effortless. And so, Victor raised his sword and hacked at the feathered shafts, one by one.

In Victor’s perception, his own movements were equally slow. But to the eyes of others, the lord was like an ethereal, traceless phantom. Wherever he passed, the streaking arrows, barely visible to the naked eye, fell to the ground in two pieces. Only after Victor had struck down the final feathered shaft did the targets in the field split apart at their smooth cuts. No one even knew when Victor had cut down the eight targets.

“Victor, you were amazing!”

Among the dumbfounded crowd, Lilia was the first to react. Beaming, she ran to Victor’s side and looked him up and down, checking to see if he’d been hit.

“Baritt, it looks like you won’t be getting any work points this time.” Victor removed his blindfold, wrapping an arm around Lilia’s slender waist as he smiled at Baritt.

Victor had arranged this test specifically to verify the results of his recent training. He had asked Baritt to bring fifteen archers, each to shoot five arrows smeared with black powder at him. If even one arrow hit, he would award each of them one hundred work points. The result was obvious: he had cut down every single arrow.

“My lord, you are truly formidable. We accept our defeat completely.”

Baritt grinned. For an old mercenary, nothing was more pleasing than having a powerful leader in their group. The other guards also looked at their lord with awe-filled eyes.

Victor felt a little giddy. In forty seconds, he had not only cut down seventy-five arrows but had also silently sliced through eight tough Iron-oak targets, stunning everyone.

The sugar and coffee fiasco had made Victor realize he had been too hasty recently. He was always thinking about producing Alchemical humans quickly and had played two of his trump cards without proper investigation, only to be rebuffed. In truth, ever since he understood that Sylvia wasn’t scheming against him, Victor had felt inexplicably relieved. But the thought that Sylvia had anticipated this outcome and hadn’t warned him left him feeling vexed.

“Perhaps Sylvia wanted me to learn a lesson, to understand that potential is not the same as power. I need to bide my time and build my strength now, not show off and act aggressively.”

Just like that, Victor had groundlessly started treating Sylvia as one of his own, little knowing that the Countess merely wanted to see her little lover in an awkward predicament, finding it amusing. Victor’s ingrained pride always left her both curious and resentful. How dare a minor noble with nothing to his name refuse to become my vassal? What’s he so smug about? Of course, Sylvia would never know that this was the confidence of a peak human. Not just a great noble, but even the Lord of Radiance, ten thousand times more powerful, could not tame a modern human, who would only think of how to dissect and study Him.

Regardless, this setback had changed Victor’s mentality. He started to relax, handing over the tedious affairs of the territory to Lilia. He began to take on the role of an observer, filling in gaps where needed, and spent more time cultivating his Mystic Form.

After a period of dedicated cultivation, Victor’s Physique attribute had surpassed nine points, and the duration of his Apocalypse state had extended to fifty seconds. At the same time, because of his practice of the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form, his power output efficiency had increased by forty percent, which was why he had been able to slice through the Iron-oak targets with ease.

“Narsen, how much of a gap do you think there is between me and a Knight?” Victor asked his number one general smugly.

Narsen frowned but answered honestly, “My lord, you could easily defeat an ordinary apprentice knight, but against a Knight, you have no chance of victory.”

“Why?” Victor asked, unconvinced. In his Apocalypse state, he felt like he was in control of everything. He could perceive his enemies’ weaknesses, and no one could keep up with his speed.

“Your strength is too weak. Even if a Knight wore no armor, you couldn’t kill them. Once a Knight circulates their Aura, their body becomes as tough as cast bronze. Even if you were to stab them in the eye, the Knight could seize the brief moment of resistance to deliver a fatal blow to you.”

“Moreover, a Knight’s stamina is terrifying. They won’t give you an opportunity to strike a vital point. They just have to drag the fight out until you’re exhausted, and then you won’t even be able to escape! So, My lord, you must never engage a Knight in close combat!” Narsen warned earnestly.

Narsen’s solemn tone sent a chill through Victor’s heart. He knew Narsen was right.

Victor could sense the elemental concentration of living beings; the higher the concentration, the higher the attribute value. The earth element constituted a creature’s physical body, so the Physique attribute didn’t just represent simple strength, but also a resilient body and tough bones. For example, the Giant Rhinoceros Beast that Victor was raising had far greater overall strength than Narsen, but its Physique was only thirteen points. A strong soldier with a sharp spear could kill it, precisely because its body couldn’t withstand the thrust of a spear. But once the earth element concentration surpassed twenty points, it was a completely different story.

Victor had witnessed the battle between Bruce and the Old Ogre firsthand. Bruce, unleashing his Aura at full power, reached a Physique of twenty-seven points. Wielding an Adamantine halberd, he still couldn’t sever the Old Ogre’s arm. Although the Old Ogre had made a move to deflect the force, it was still enough to show that its body and bones were unbelievably tough.

Afterward, Victor had experienced this profoundly himself. In the Seamless state, the bolt Victor shot from his crossbow had power comparable to a regular crossbow. It had blinded one of the Old Ogre’s eyes but failed to penetrate its brain. In close combat, Victor’s shortsword couldn’t even wound its body. If it weren’t for Nicole’s explosive burst of power, the moment Victor’s Apocalypse state ended, he would have been smashed into a pulp.

A single senile ogre could fight a Bronze Knight. What about ogres in their prime? And ogres always moved in groups. What about the Forest Centaurs, who had driven out entire hordes of ogres and gnolls from this place? Now that the Forest Centaurs had migrated away, would those powerful ogres migrate here? At these thoughts, Victor’s expression turned grim.

Seeing Victor was displeased, Narsen tried to comfort him, “My lord, you are an extraordinary sharpshooter. If you were to use a military heavy crossbow, you would be more than capable of threatening a Knight.”

Victor gave a wry smile at Narsen’s misunderstanding and asked him, “Hill Camp is easy to defend but hard to attack, yet it has a major flaw: there’s no path of retreat! Do you have any suggestions?”

The lord’s leap in logic made Narsen scratch his head, but he still replied, “My lord, we could install a few winches on the steep side. When necessary, we could lower ropes and let everyone use them to descend to the ground.”

“Then have them installed as soon as possible.”

Victor didn’t explain further. It wasn’t suitable for more people to know about his worries concerning the ogres, lest it cause unnecessary panic. But necessary precautions had to be taken. Victor secretly decided to produce more alchemical crows to monitor the edges of his territory, especially the mountainous area to the west and the entrance to the Great Marsh. If there really was a clan of ogres, they were most likely in the Great Marsh. In any case, alchemical crows were cheap. At the same time, he could purchase some materials to have Busuo and his team build more powerful heavy crossbows and repeating crossbows.

One of the subjects rushed into the training ground but was stopped by the guards. He had no choice but to shout excitedly, “My lord! My lord! We succeeded! We made that cream using your method!”

Victor was overjoyed. With cream, the promotion of sugar would be unstoppable!

Chapter 86: The Explosive Popularity of Raw Sugar

A few of the private mess hall’s “master chefs” stood before a copper basin, their heads held high and chests puffed out. Inside the basin was the fruit of their research: cream.

Lilia carefully examined the pale yellow, gelatinous substance in the copper basin and asked hesitantly, “This is cream?”

One of the “master chefs” said obsequiously, “My Lady Lilia, this is cream! We followed the lord’s method and spent three days and three nights, using four whole barrels of fresh milk, just to make this little bit.”

The complexity and expense of producing cream stunned Lilia, and she was eager to taste it.

Lilia asked Victor, “Victor, may I try some?”

Victor was secretly amused. These cooks hadn’t improved their cooking skills, but they’d certainly gotten good at patting themselves on the back. In truth, the method for making natural cream was very simple. One only needed to let fresh milk sit overnight, skim off the layer of cream on top, and then place it into a leather bag to be repeatedly beaten and kneaded until it gradually turned into cream. However, this method was quite time-consuming and yielded very little. As a lord, Victor naturally had the cooks from the private mess hall handle such simple yet tedious tasks.

Although the cream had been made, heaven knew if it was edible. Victor had no interest in being the guinea pig, nor would he let his woman try it. So, he cleared his throat and spoke to the several cooks.

“Ahem, I’ve told you before, as a master chef, you must be responsible for your creations. You must taste your own work before serving it to guests. This is essential professional conduct for a master chef, understand? This is professional conduct!”

Victor’s words filled the “master chefs” with awe and respect. One by one, with stern and reserved expressions, they took out spoons and reverently tasted the cream.

Seeing the cooks’ expressions as they savored the aftertaste, Lilia asked curiously, “How is it? Is it delicious?”

“It has no taste.”

“No, it’s a little sour.”

The men spoke sheepishly. They couldn’t believe that the cream they had spent so much effort making was tasteless.

“Was it a failure?” Lilia asked Victor, her face full of disappointment.

Victor smiled and took out a box of sugar, instructing the “master chefs,” “Add the sugar, stir it in evenly, and try again.”

Once the shimmering sugar was added, the slightly sour cream was instantly transformed.

“Delicious!”

“It’s sweet and fragrant!”

The master chefs’ faces lit up with joy as they ate. Narsen and Lilia could no longer restrain themselves and stepped forward to have a taste. The sweet, rich, and smooth texture was indeed a delightful surprise.

Lilia said with a smile, “Victor, this cream is really delicious.”

“My lord! We shouldn’t sell the cream to those black-hearted caravans. We can sell it right here in the Goat Tavern. We’ll definitely make a fortune!” Narsen said excitedly.

But Victor shook his head. “We’re not selling cream! In fact, we’re going to give away the method for making it!”

When nobles ate bread, they would spread honey or add dried fruits to enhance the flavor. But honey came from the wild; not only was it expensive, but its production was also very unstable. Therefore, Victor had thought of using cream and sugar to replace honey. But the crude method of making cream had a limited yield and was difficult to preserve, making it completely unsuitable for production and sale. Victor decided to simply publicize the method for making cream to help promote his sugar.

Narsen trusted Victor’s methods. He asked directly, “My lord, what are your plans then?”

Victor glanced at the few cooks and smiled. “Let’s have our master chefs go to the Goat Tavern and make bread.”

A carriage stopped in front of a courtyard in the Vassal District of Black Fortress Town. A well-dressed middle-aged man stepped out. His name was Ryan, and he was a vassal of the York family.

Ryan’s family had served the York family for seven full generations. By Ryan’s generation, the family had accumulated a fief of over nine hundred mu, a manor for raising dairy cows, a carpenter’s workshop, and a blacksmith’s shop.

Ryan had three sons and two daughters. His eldest son, as the family heir, had taken over Ryan’s former duties and was enlisted directly into the Fanged Legion as a soldier. After several years of hard work, combined with Ryan’s connections, he had already become a squad leader. Ryan had pulled some strings to get his second son a position under the Garrison Commander of Black Fortress Town as a garrison soldier. In a few years, he might be granted land by the York family and become a vassal himself—though this, of course, would depend on Ryan continuing to pull strings and grease palms. As for his eldest daughter, she was married to the eldest son of another vassal.

In addition, some of Ryan’s blood relatives were also vassals of the York family. This gave the Ryan family considerable influence within the vassal class, but Ryan was not satisfied.

Ryan had once thought of sending his second son and eldest daughter to the lord’s side to become an attendant and a handmaiden, but his children’s looks were truly a bit too plain, and they were not chosen. Meanwhile, his old neighbor Rumm’s second daughter had been selected. The sight of old Rumm’s smug face made Ryan’s teeth itch with hatred.

Now, the York family’s territory had more than doubled in size. The vassals of the York family were all rubbing their hands together, eager to win more land and a higher status.

In times of peace, improving one’s family status through accumulating military merit was a very slow process. Therefore, having one’s children become attendants to a noble lord was a shortcut, and the competition was fierce.

And so, Ryan took a young and beautiful mistress and bought her a residence in Black Fortress Town. Ryan’s goal was to have a few beautiful illegitimate children to send off as attendants or handmaidens.

The woman had proven her worth, bearing Ryan a son and a daughter over the past few years—Ryan’s youngest son and daughter. Today, Ryan was here to visit them.

As Ryan stepped down from the carriage, the old steward, Goby, came forward to greet him.

“Master, good day!”

Ryan gave a slight nod and walked into the courtyard. As an upper-class man, he had a natural air of authority, especially since old Goby depended on him for his livelihood.

“Master, you’ve come!”

A beautiful woman approached Ryan with a radiant smile. She was Ryan’s mistress, Busha.

“Give it back! That’s my sugar!”

“No, come and get me.”

Two children ran out, one after the other. The one in front was his seven-year-old youngest son, and chasing behind was his five-year-old youngest daughter.

When the little girl saw her father, she immediately ran over, crying, and tugged at the corner of Ryan’s coat.

“Papa! Brother stole my sugar. Help me get it back.”

Ryan scooped his precious, doll-like little daughter into his arms and coaxed her tenderly, “Nana, don’t cry. Papa will get it back for you right now.”

“Andy, come here! What did you take from your sister?” Ryan demanded, his face stern as he scolded his youngest son.

Andy timidly handed over the sugar cube in his hand. He knew his father had always doted on his sister more.

Of course Ryan doted on his youngest daughter more. The little girl looked just like Busha, as if cast from the same mold—a budding beauty. In fact, with Busha’s looks, she could have easily become a handmaiden to the lord. Unfortunately, noble handmaidens had to be selected from among the daughters of vassals. Ryan was planning to wait until his youngest daughter was fifteen or sixteen and send her to the noble lord as a handmaiden. Perhaps she would be noticed by that noble knight. If she were lucky enough to conceive a child of the knight’s bloodline, that would be for the best. Even if she couldn’t ultimately become a personal handmaiden, Ryan wouldn’t marry Nana off; he wanted that noble child to be born in his own house. This would change his family’s destiny. In comparison, his youngest son was not nearly as precious.

“What is this?” Ryan asked with some confusion as he took the purple cube.

“Master, this is a sugar cube. It’s a new kind of snack that’s just recently appeared in town,” the old steward Goby replied respectfully.

“Papa! Papa! Give it to me! I want to eat it!”

Nana reached out her small, fair hand, trying to get the sugar cube from her father, but Ryan didn’t give it to her.

“How can you give this kind of thing to the children? What if it makes them sick?” Ryan asked the steward sternly.

“It’s fine, I had someone try it first. There’s no problem at all, and many people in town are eating these sugar cubes,” Busha said with a charming laugh.

Ryan looked at it, then sniffed it. He placed the sugar cube to his lips and licked it. He immediately tasted a hint of sweetness and couldn’t help but pop the entire cube into his mouth. It melted instantly, accompanied by a wave of sweet flavor.

“There’s honey in this?! Busha, how could you buy the children something so expensive?”

Ryan was both surprised and resentful of his young mistress’s extravagance. Honey was ten Gold Sols a pound; a vassal like him truly couldn’t afford it. Even if he could, he wouldn’t dare give it to his children as a snack. That would invite envy!

“Do I look like such a thoughtless person?” Busha twisted Ryan’s ear and said coquettishly, “This is a sugar cube made from raw sugar. It’s only forty-five copper coins a pound. It’s made from Purple Cane!”

“What! So cheap?” The price left Ryan stunned.

“Waaah, my sugar cube,” Nana burst into tears. She was quite sure the sugar cube had been eaten by her father and wasn’t coming back out.

Ryan held his daughter, his heart aching, and said to Busha, “Get Nana another sugar cube.”

“There are no more. That was the last one. Why did you eat it!?” Busha took her crying daughter and grumbled as she comforted her.

Ryan’s old face flushed red with embarrassment. He turned his shame into anger and shouted at the steward, “What are you standing there for? Go buy more! And remember to buy extra, I want to take some back with me!”

“Master, the raw sugar in town is sold out. According to John, the man who sells it, the next batch won’t be in for another ten days!”

This unfortunate news made Nana cry even more heartbrokenly.

————————————

“I really don’t know what Archer is doing! Sugar, raw sugar… how could such important intelligence not have been sent back!”

Earl York paced back and forth, his mood utterly foul.

Sylvia watched her husband’s anxious state and sighed faintly. It was only when money was involved that he could act like a man in front of her.

“What’s so strange about it? Archer told us long ago that Victor had locked down the upper camp and was using Purple Cane to research something. Archer just didn’t know it was sugar,” Sylvia said lightly.

“There’s nothing strange about it! In ten days, three thousand pounds of raw sugar were snatched up. All of this could have been specified in the monopoly agreement, but now there are new variables!” Earl York said gloomily.

“Are you worried Sophia will interfere with the raw sugar and sugar business?” Sylvia raised her delicate, willow-leaf brows.

“I’m worried Sophia will pull Victor back to her side. That boy is like a hen that lays golden eggs. You insisted on making Victor our vassal. Back then, I foolishly opposed it, but now I see you were wise,” Earl York said with a bitter, self-deprecating smile.

Ever since he saw Victor’s monopoly agreement, Earl York had supported it with both hands and feet. A vassal only needed to pay their liege lord fifty percent of their production, but the monopoly agreement stipulated one hundred percent exclusive rights to the Purple Cane wine, which was much more favorable to the York family.

“There’s no need to worry. Sophia and I have an agreement. In fact, she has already given up on little Victor,” Sylvia chuckled.

“To the commercial nobility, only profit matters. Promises are bullshit! It would be difficult for us to refuse Sophia, anyway. After all, she’s providing us with cheap grain and iron.”

The York family’s migration to the Centaur Hills was not without its losses. They had lost hundreds of thousands of mu of farmland, various mines, and a complete set of infrastructure. All of this needed to be rebuilt from scratch. Until then, they couldn’t survive without the support of trade.

Sylvia smiled faintly. “So crude! Enbise, you understand business, but you underestimate politics. Baron Vilpan will solve this problem for us.”

Chapter 87: Roland Auguste

When the bright morning sun spilled into the lush little garden, the crystalline dewdrops sparkled like flawless diamonds, adorning the elegant garden and making it seem like a fairyland.

Two beautiful Crested Long-tailed Kites flew down from the high treetops, gliding over the vibrant garden and landing on the white windowsill to begin their song.

Their melodious calls were charmingly sweet, rising and falling for some time, but their usual duet partner did not appear. The two birds grew disheartened. They craned their necks to peer into the room, then boldly flew inside.

The room was draped with veils of white gossamer. The floor was paved with neat, smooth crystal tiles, each connected by exquisite golden patterns, creating an air of magnificence without a trace of gaudiness. In the center of the room was an enormous bed, upon which was spread a single, complete snow bear hide. The fur was pure white and soft, without a single blemish. Upon this furry mattress slept a breathtakingly beautiful young woman.

Her skin was like snow, her features delicate. Platinum-blonde hair cascaded over the bed. A silk nightgown clung to her graceful figure, revealing perfect curves. Her long, slender legs rested on the blanket, as if carved from ivory, gleaming with a moist luster, full of the charm of life.

The two Crested Long-tailed Kites flew to the bed and gently pecked at the girl’s round earlobes with their hard beaks, trying to awaken the lazy creature. Two shallow dimples appeared on the girl’s bright face, her crystal-pink lips curling up slightly. With a nimble turn, she wrapped her arms around one of the kites. Her eyes, as beautiful as a jade-green lake, were full of laughter, without the slightest hint of drowsiness.

“Haha, you fell for it! That’s what you get for not letting me pet you.”

The girl giggled, her slender, jade-like hands stroking the kite’s gorgeous feathers. Unfortunately, the kite was not appreciative. It pecked fiercely at her hand with its hard beak. The other kite, showing no camaraderie, flew to the windowsill and chirped sharply at the girl, expressing its displeasure.

The kite’s beak, strong enough to crack a nut, bit down hard on the girl’s soft, fair fingers, yet it couldn’t even leave a white mark. In the end, it could only suffer wronged as the girl pet it from head to tail.

After a moment of stroking, the girl released the kite in satisfaction. The large bird immediately flapped its wings and flew to the windowsill. Its companion hopped over and began to preen its slightly ruffled feathers, soothing its wounded heart.

“So stingy!”

The girl stretched lazily, then hopped off the bed with her bare, jade-like feet. With a faint smile, the entire room instantly grew moist. A golden harp in the corner of the room began to play a melody as fluid as water. Upon closer inspection, one would find that the harp’s strings were made of Mithril. A layer of mist enveloped the strings, plucking them and causing the harp to play on its own. The beautiful music enticed the two kites to sing in harmony. For a time, birdsong and music intertwined, like the gurgling of a spring or the patter of a light rain. This heavenly sound conjured a gentle breeze, the bright moonlight, a lover’s glance, the warmth between a mother and child…

When the song ended, the two Crested Long-tailed Kites flew back into the small garden, and a knock sounded at the door.

“Your Highness, are you awake?”

“Iris, come in,” the girl replied.

An elegant and poised court lady entered the room, leading a line of handmaidens.

“Good morning, Your Highness. Please allow us to help you dress.”

The court lady curtsied to the girl. Before the girl could answer, the handmaidens surrounded her, wiping her skin and changing her clothes. In no time, the girl was dressed in a long princess gown.

“Iris, where’s our little cutie?” the girl asked her court lady, letting the handmaidens fuss over her.

“Your Highness, Prince Edward is waiting to have breakfast with you,” Iris said, fastening the last button on the back of the princess gown. She whispered into the girl’s ear, “Marquess Golan is outside. He’s been waiting for you for quite some time. The Marquess said that he absolutely must see you today, no matter what.”

Hearing that the stubborn old man was lying in wait for her, the girl’s face fell. She whispered back to the court lady in an even lower voice:

“Iris, go tell that old man I overslept again, and he should go home and have his breakfast. Go on, quickly.”

Iris sighed helplessly. She knew the Princess Royal’s temperament all too well and led the handmaidens out of the room in an orderly fashion.

Once everyone had left, the girl walked to the window and listened intently for a moment. As she expected, she heard Iris relaying her instructions to the old man. A mischievous smile appeared on her face. Then, with a light press of her slender hand on the windowsill, she floated out of the window like a feather, silently traversing a dozen meters to land lightly on the green lawn.

The girl lifted her skirts and tiptoed away. Just as she rounded a corner, she saw a figure as imposing as a lion standing silently by the path.

“Morning, Tutor Golan. Lovely weather today, hehe,” the girl greeted awkwardly.

Shameless! To lie in wait for me, he actually channeled his Aura to resonate with the earth. No wonder I couldn’t sense him! she grit her silver teeth and complained inwardly.

“Good day, Your Highness Roland.” Marquess Golan gave the girl a knight’s salute. Though he was a powerful Pinnacle Knight, he still had to observe the code of loyalty before the liege lord he served.

“Tutor Golan, I was just on my way to breakfast. You should head back for now. You can’t let me starve, can you?” the girl said pitifully, rubbing her stomach with her delicate hands. A “gurgle, gurgle” sound even came from her belly.

Golan closed his eyes in pain, the long scar on his face twitching. An esteemed Gold Knight, channeling Aura just to produce such an indecent sound… in the entire human world, probably only the one before him was capable of such a thing.

“Roland Auguste! As the Princess Royal of the Kingdom of Gambis, you must prioritize matters of state! You won’t die from being hungry for a little while!” Golan said through clenched teeth.

“Alright, alright, just say what you need to say!” Roland’s face fell, and she replied dejectedly.

Marquess Golan was over ninety years old and had served the August family for a full eighty years, attending three generations of monarchs. He was also Roland’s swordsmanship tutor. When a man like him became angry, even Roland felt a little intimidated.

Seeing Roland relent, Golan did not press his advantage further and said in a gentler tone, “Tomorrow, Marchioness Leopold will host an afternoon tea party. I must ask that you attend.”

“You’re not going to make me meet that old man Andre, are you? I’ve told you, I’m not interested in older men!” Roland said in a strange, mocking tone.

“How is Andre an old man? He’s only forty-three! Considering a Gold Knight can live to be one hundred and sixty, he’s still a young man!” Golan immediately corrected Roland’s fallacy.

Roland placed her hands on her slender waist, rolled her eyes, and sneered, “A forty-three-year-old young man? Fine, I suppose I shouldn’t call an uncle an old man, but I’m not interested in uncles either!”

“Your Highness, you are thirty-two this year. You’ve reached the age of marriage, and the age difference between you and Andre isn’t that large. He is also a Gold Knight. Why can’t you just meet him?”

Roland was furious. She pointed a fair, slender finger almost at Golan’s face and retorted loudly, “You old man! You’ve really gone senile! You even forgot my age. I’ll tell you one more time—this princess just turned eighteen!”

“You said the same thing last year!”

“A senile old man is a senile old man. I was obviously seventeen last year.”

Marquess Golan rubbed his throbbing forehead and took a deep breath, trying to calm his fraying temper. “Roland, what kind of husband are you looking for?” he asked.

With the throne vacant, Roland, as the first in the line of succession, would immediately ascend to the throne as soon as she married. This was Golan’s reason for pressuring her to choose a husband.

“I want someone like Constantine,” Roland said, her cheeks flushing as she shyly lowered her head.

“Which family is Constantine from? What rank of Knight is he?” Golan looked lost. He racked his brain but couldn’t recall who this Constantine was.

“You don’t even know Constantine? He’s young, handsome, powerful, and wise. He led his people to open up vast territories, eliminated countless monsters, and to save his beloved princess, he ventured into the dragon’s fortress all alone. He fought a vicious dragon for three days and finally slew it, rescuing Princess Cynthia who had been kidnapped by the beast…” As she reached the exciting part, Roland’s face flushed with excitement and her starry eyes shone brightly.

Marquess Golan, initially bewildered, now had a dark expression. He knew this must be from a script praising a Pioneering Knight, the kind often performed by theater troupes.

“That’s all fake! Dragons have been away from the human world for thousands of years. What brave battle against a vicious dragon? Even a legendary realm Knight would have to run if they saw a dragon!” Golan roared.

“Constantine must exist! Because the wisdom to pioneer the wilderness can’t be fake, the courage to face a dragon can’t be fake, and the sincerity of his love can’t be fake either,” Roland stared coldly at Golan. Even her tutor could not blaspheme the idol in her heart.

Just as the tutor and student were glaring at each other, neither willing to back down, a group of attendants escorting a beautifully dressed noblewoman and a little boy walked towards them.

“Good day, Your Majesty Catherine; good day, Your Highness Edward.” Golan withdrew his gaze from Roland and bowed to them.

“Marquess Golan, there is no need for such ceremony,” Queen Catherine said with a gentle smile.

Seeing the Queen arrive, Roland breathed a sigh of relief. She ran over to the little boy with a grin, cupped his apple-cheeked face, and planted her crystal-pink lips on it, nibbling him a few times.

“Your Highness, my dear Princess Royal sister, you cannot treat me like this. It is most improper,” the little boy said in a high-pitched, childish voice, wiping the saliva from his face.

“Hah! Little guy, your wings have grown strong, haven’t they? You dare to lecture me? See how I deal with you!” Roland gleefully squished her brother’s little face into a ball and then let go.

“Don’t squish my face!” Edward wriggled free from his sister’s demonic hands and turned to run.

“Stop, let me pinch it a bit more.”

The laughing and playing siblings vanished in a flash, leaving Golan to sigh.

“Your Majesty Catherine, I hope you can persuade Her Highness Roland to shoulder her responsibilities. This is crucial for the entire kingdom,” Golan said in a heavy tone.

“Marquess Golan, I have always respected Roland’s will. It is you, on the other hand, who has constantly been interfering with her. I have heard that Gold Knights are all clear about their own paths. Do you believe Roland would forsake her chance to step into the legendary realm for the sake of the throne?” Catherine said softly, her eyes downcast.

This was practically an accusation that Golan was meddling in the royal family’s internal affairs, but the will of a Gold Knight was far too strong to be swayed by words. Golan said gravely, “Under normal circumstances, I would certainly support His Highness Edward. But the kingdom’s situation is dire. We need a strong leader, and Edward is not suited to be king. It would lead to the kingdom’s fragmentation. Your Majesty will surely understand my difficult position.”

Catherine faltered slightly. She knew the “Your Majesty” Golan mentioned referred to the late King Ryan. Golan was telling her that if Roland refused to take the throne, he would shift his support to Grand Duke Williams, which would still be a better outcome than the kingdom splitting apart.

Catherine said icily, “I am naturally aware of the Marquess’s good intentions, but you haven’t forgotten that the cause of the late king’s death has never been determined, have you!”

Golan fell silent. King Ryan had died in a knightly duel with Neowist, but that wasn’t the root cause.

A few years ago, the August family, boasting three Gold Knights, was at its strongest and had begun to develop the Centaur Hills. But King Ryan insisted on establishing the three eastern provinces, which led to the current situation. In truth, Ryan’s acceptance of the two Earls was not aimed at the imperial territories, but was an attempt to suppress the York family to the east. Ryan had incorporated the two earldoms into his domain, ordered the York family to cede a portion of their land to them, elevated them to Dukes, and established the three eastern provinces. The York family did not resist the royal family’s unreasonable demand, choosing instead to submit. But in the subsequent war, they stood by and watched as Ryan died in battle.

Golan had been vehemently opposed to Ryan’s scheme against the York family, but one person had supported Ryan’s decision: Grand Duke Williams. Ironically, after the war ended, Williams did an about-face and began to ally himself with the York family. Even Golan couldn’t be certain there wasn’t something suspicious about all of this.

But what could be done about it now?

The problem was that the York family and the imperial territories now pincered the Kingdom of Gambis. The balance of high-level martial power had also been reversed, leaving Gambis in a perilous state. In Golan’s view, only by having Roland ascend the throne and marry a Gold Knight could a new strategic balance be formed, thus stabilizing the kingdom. Gold Knights were not a dime a dozen, and young, unmarried Gold Knights were even rarer. A Gold Knight willing to marry into another family was as rare as a phoenix feather. Fortunately, Golan knew of a certain prince who fit these conditions perfectly: Andre of the Kingdom of Borea. After a series of arrangements and communications, Andre had finally set foot in the Royal Capital of Gambis. But Roland refused to play along, which left Marquess Golan extremely frustrated.

If Prince Edward ascended the throne, Grand Duke Williams, to avoid being held accountable for his past actions, would have no choice but to secede. What fate would a fragmented Gambis face? The Dodor people would come to take a piece of the pie, and the York family might even cooperate with Emperor Lant to topple Gambis entirely. Rather than let that happen, it would be better for Grand Duke Williams to take the throne. With the Kingdom of Gambis in such turmoil, Golan could only give up on investigating the late king’s death.

Catherine understood this as well. She said to Golan, “Roland is your student. You know her personality. She will never abandon her own path for the sake of the kingdom. However, perhaps Lord Andre might change his mind. If he is willing to support Edward, I hope the Marquess will change his stance.”

Golan’s heart stirred. If that were truly possible, supporting Edward would not be out of the question. Roland, Andre, and himself would once again form a powerful deterrent against external threats.

“It is not easy to move a Gold Knight. Andre came to Gambis for Roland. With Roland repeatedly rejecting him, he may leave Gambis before long. If you have some means, use it quickly. This may be your last chance.”

Golan gave Catherine a deep look, then turned and left.

Catherine’s face was somewhat pale, but her eyes were firm.

“Edward, I will see you on the throne!”

Chapter 88: The Tea Party

Walter leaped down from his horse. A well-trained attendant immediately came forward and led the snorting steed aside.

Walter straightened his clothes and walked toward the manor. This was one of the Leopold family’s noble estates in the Royal Capital. Like all other noble manors, it was luxurious and exquisite, but also regulated—regulated to its very core.

The straight, wide path was paved with white glazed rock tiles. White glazed rock was a precious stone, lustrous white and smooth as a mirror. Few noble families could afford to use it for paving, though they were not entirely unheard of. But here, every single tile had been professionally polished. Their size, thickness, and alignment were perfectly identical. Any tile that did not meet the standard was discarded. The manpower and wealth consumed in this process were unimaginable.

The other decorations, vegetation, and buildings in the manor, just like these tiles, exuded an air of impeccable regulation. Every lamppost, every ornamental tree, every bench—their height, size, and distance from one another were all identical. The same was true for the attendants lining the path. Their height, age, hair color, attire, and even their posture, bearing, and expressions were all uniformly regulated. Behind this regulation lay hidden luxury, revealing the reserve and arrogance of the Royal Capital’s nobility.

Yet Walter found it deeply sad. As one of the heads of the family caravan, Walter had been to many places and met many lords. Some were wealthy, some were struggling; some were noble, some were easygoing. From this, Walter had discovered a pattern: the more powerful a lord was, the more casual they were; the more destitute they were, the more they cared about appearances.

The attendants Walter had seen in Black Fortress had not undergone strict etiquette training, which, in the eyes of the Royal Capital’s nobles, was a sign of being uncivilized. But those attendants were swift and agile, clearly possessing martial skills. They were all busy, and they didn’t stop to bow to their lords while working.

Looking now at his own family’s attendants, they stood ramrod straight in their crisp uniforms. Whenever Walter passed, they would bow to him, the angle of their bow and the expression on their faces identical. This was impossible to achieve without years of etiquette training. In comparison, the York family’s attendants were a bunch of country bumpkins. But the meaning behind it all made Walter sigh. The York family’s attendants were there to do work, while the Leopold family’s attendants were there for decoration. The York family’s attendants had tasks to perform, while the Leopold family’s attendants could only serve as ornaments…

Walter understood that the gap between them was the gap in their families’ strength. But as a new and rising family, the Leopold family had a chance to become a powerful noble house like the Yorks. At this thought, Walter tightened his grip on the bag in his hand. Inside was the coffee and sugar he had brought back from Black Fortress Town.

Following the path, it wasn’t long before Walter entered the manor’s main building, where he met his lady, Marchioness Melissa Leopold.

“My Lady, good day,” Walter said, bowing impeccably to Melissa.

Melissa had a beautiful face and a tall, curvaceous figure, a perfect embodiment of a mature woman’s charm. She smiled and nodded at Walter.

“Walter, you’ve worked hard.”

“It is what I ought to do,” Walter said respectfully. “My Lady, this is the coffee and sugar I brought back this time.”

With that, he handed the two bags he was holding to a handmaiden standing nearby.

Melissa took the leather pouch from the handmaiden. Opening it, she saw that it was indeed filled with brown coffee powder. She nodded in satisfaction. Ever since Walter had brought back this beverage called coffee, Melissa had been captivated by its flavor. She had never sold any of it, all to give her guests a surprise today.

“Why is there less snow sugar?”

When the second bag was opened, Melissa’s tone turned somewhat stern as she saw that the amount of crystalline sugar inside was much less than last time.

“My Lady, the amount of sugar supplied with the coffee was less this time. They only gave one pound of sugar for every three pounds of coffee, and Earl York intercepted half of it,” Walter said with a wry smile.

Melissa frowned, but before she could ask, Walter explained, “According to our merchants in Black Fortress Town, the process for making this sugar is extremely complex, and the yield is very low. After Baron Victor ordered the sugar to be destroyed last time, the quantity became even smaller. So, from now on, the amount of sugar distributed with the coffee will be reduced. However, given the ratio of sugar to coffee, it’s still sufficient.”

Hearing this, a smile appeared on Melissa’s face. She was very familiar with Baron Victor. Once, at the arrangement of Countess Ariel, the palace’s chief Court Lady, she had even given the young baron etiquette lessons. She had been wearing a golden mask at the time, so the young baron didn’t recognize her. The young baron’s attitude toward the sugar was very much to her liking. Such a treasure should be destroyed rather than sold cheap!

“Walter, remember this! This is Snow Sugar, not cane sugar. The next time you go to Black Fortress Town to purchase coffee, you must convey this to Baron Victor! Do you understand?” Melissa solemnly admonished the head of her family’s caravan.

“Yes, My Lady, I will remember,” Walter replied with his head bowed. Cane sugar would always make people think of the Purple Cane eaten by centaurs. If the family wanted to get into the coffee business, they had to change the sugar’s name.

“My Lady, the carriages of Lord Andre and Marchioness Sophia have arrived,” the manor’s steward announced as he approached Melissa.

“Inform everyone that the tea party can begin shortly,” Melissa said with a radiant smile, a glint of malicious excitement in her eyes.

When Andre walked into the tea hall with Sophia, the noble ladies who had long been waiting gasped in unison.

Andre was tall and powerfully built, with a handsome face and a naturally elegant yet strong demeanor. His golden hair was more brilliant than gold itself, and his azure eyes were as deep and pure as the sky. In the eyes of the noblewomen, Andre was as dazzling as the sun. Seeing the incomparably beautiful Marchioness Sophia clinging to Andre’s arm like a delicate bird, they couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy.

Seeing the hall filled with a flock of chattering noblewomen, and realizing he was the only man present, Andre couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of frustration.

Andre was a Gold Knight of the Borrey United Kingdom, forty-three years old and unmarried. This was extremely rare among Knights. Most Knights would have their marriages arranged by their families after advancing to the Bronze rank in order to expand the family bloodline. But Andre was of high birth and devoted to the path of the Knight, so his family had never pressured him to marry. That was until two years ago, when he successfully advanced to Gold Knight. Offers of marriage alliances had poured in. Just as he was preparing to fulfill his duty of expanding the family bloodline, the Great Scholar Nigel of the Silver Spire had found him. Nigel had made an outrageous request: that he renounce his family’s title and go to the Kingdom of Gambia to court a female knight and marry into her family.

Such a request was a complete humiliation to Andre’s family. A Gold Knight was enough to support a duchy; what family would be willing to let their Gold Knight marry into another family? But Andre and his family had agreed, because that female knight was the first in line to the throne of the Kingdom of Gambia, the Gold Knight Roland Auguste.

Of course, there was a deeper reason behind this: the political game between the Paladin Faction and the Spire Faction.

Gambia was one of the three pillars of the iron triangle against the Sasan Empire. To stand by and watch it collapse would lead to unforeseeable consequences, which was not in the interest of the Kingdom of Borea. Nor could the Kingdom of Borea blatantly interfere in the struggle between the Sasan Empire and the three Lant Kingdom. Thus, dispatching a Gold Knight to court the eldest princess of Gambia became the best option. After a series of exchanges of interests, Andre’s family had tacitly agreed.

Andre didn’t care about any of this. What he truly cared about was Roland Auguste. Princess Roland was of noble status and the youngest female Gold Knight, which held an immense attraction for the proud Andre. He believed that only he was worthy of Princess Roland.

Under Marquess Golan’s arrangement, Andre met Roland and was captivated by her beauty and candor. He then began a passionate pursuit of Roland, but to his dismay, she showed no interest in him.

Many nobles believed that Roland rejected Andre to allow Prince Edward to ascend to the throne. But Andre knew that Roland never thought that way. She was the purest of knights; she liked who she liked, and disliked who she didn’t, for no other reason. This was also what Andre found most attractive about her.

Although Andre deeply admired Princess Roland, he would never pester her relentlessly. For a Gold Knight, love was merely an embellishment in life; they pursued a higher level of power. Therefore, Andre was preparing to return to his family.

It was for this reason that invitations for Andre to attend banquets became more and more frequent, the number of noble ladies at these banquets grew, while the number of men dwindled. It was clear that the nobles of the Royal Capital of Gambia were all eyeing the Gold Knight’s bloodline.

“Lord Andre, welcome to today’s tea party!” Lady Melissa said, greeting Andre.

“The pleasure is all mine, beautiful lady.”

Andre responded with perfect courtesy. He had not wanted to attend such a tea party, but at Marquess Golan’s request, he had come, hoping to see Princess Roland one more time. Unfortunately, the princess had not come.

“Welcome, my dear Sophia.”

Melissa took Sophia’s hand and greeted her warmly, deftly separating the Marchioness from Andre. This brought smiles to the faces of the other noble ladies.

“Thank you, Melissa. I truly didn’t expect you to invite me. It’s been a long time since I’ve received an invitation from you,” Sophia said, her smile as radiant as a flower.

“My dear Sophia, your beauty and wealth always make one feel so inadequate. This time, if I hadn’t acquired a new kind of tea, I wouldn’t have known what to serve you,” Melissa said, laughing so hard her body trembled like a blossoming branch. She greatly anticipated Sophia’s expression in a moment.

“Yes, Melissa, you told me long ago that you had an exquisite beverage here, but you’ve kept it hidden until today. I’m really looking forward to it,” a noblewoman interjected. It was Baroness Ferlo.

Melissa smiled but said nothing, simply clapping her hands. A group of well-trained attendants entered, carrying silver trays. They served each guest a beautiful ivory cup filled with a brown liquid. Coffee.

“What a wonderful aroma!”

“The taste is very unique. A bitterness within the sweet, and a sweetness within the bitter. It leaves a lasting aftertaste.”

The noble ladies offered their comments one by one.

“Lord Andre, what do you think?” Melissa asked Andre with a beaming smile.

Andre took a sip and said in surprise, “This is actually a fire-element affinity beverage. My Lady, what is this drink called?”

The coffee subtly stimulated one’s spirit. To a Gold Knight, this was a manifestation of fire-element affinity.

“I wouldn’t dare show off in front of Marchioness Sophia. She must know the name of this beverage.”

Sophia’s fine brows furrowed slightly. She put down her cup and said, “This is indeed a very fine beverage. I have never had it before. I must ask the Marchioness to enlighten me.”

“But this is a beverage invented by your husband, Baron Victor Wimbledon. It’s also a specialty of his fiefdom. How could you not know, Sophia?”

Melissa’s surprised voice was a little louder than necessary, ensuring everyone heard her clearly. The tea hall instantly fell silent. Countless gazes turned toward Sophia, most of them gloating. The noble ladies had long been jealous of the stunningly beautiful Sophia. A chance to see her made a fool of was a welcome sight for them all. Who told her to be the one closest to Andre?

Facing the malicious and mocking glares, Sophia’s expression remained neutral, yet she exuded a pitiable and moving air. She was silent for a moment before saying faintly, “I have not been in contact with Victor since he went to the Centaur Hills to take up his post.”

An uproar immediately swept through the hall. The noble ladies began whispering amongst themselves. Though their voices were faint, they were clearly audible to the Knights present. They were saying things about how shameless Sophia was.

Sophia just sat there, quietly sipping her coffee as if all the criticism had nothing to do with her. Beside her, Andre began to feel a sense of compassion for her.

As a Knight from a great noble family, Andre was no stranger to the messy romantic affairs of the nobility. He’d had many lovers back in the Kingdom of Borea. Since arriving in Gambia, Andre had remained chaste out of respect for Princess Roland. But as a Gold Knight of noble blood, he was naturally a great attraction to noble ladies. All sorts of flirtations and seductions were endless. Although a Gold Knight’s will was strong, it couldn’t stop the ladies’ passion. Andre was constantly surrounded by all sorts of beauties, which gave him a headache. Sophia was among them.

Sophia felt different to Andre. It wasn’t just because of her beauty and wealth, but because she never made Andre feel awkward. She had even fended off a lot of trouble for him. She always expressed her feelings for Andre with an adoring gaze and a gentle smile.

Andre admired Sophia’s tact, and her beauty moved his heart as well. If Sophia didn’t already have a husband and he wasn’t already pursuing someone else, Andre would even be willing to marry her. Now that Andre had given up on pursuing Princess Roland, he didn’t mind having a romantic involvement with Sophia.

Now, Sophia had openly admitted to exiling her own husband, silently bearing all the accusations. From beginning to end, she hadn’t once glanced at Andre. This willingness to bear the burden made Andre feel a sense of admiration. Andre knew why Sophia had exiled her little husband; she wanted an heir with a pure bloodline. Such things were not uncommon among the nobility; it was just something that could be done but not spoken of.

Andre decided to come to his confidante’s rescue. He asked Melissa.

“Lady Melissa, what is this beverage called?”

The Gold Knight’s interruption made Melissa a little annoyed. It seemed she had inadvertently pushed Sophia a little closer to Andre.

“It’s called coffee.”

Chapter 89: Sophia

“My dear Ariel, please try the candied fruit. These are green cherry-plums preserved in honey. I remember green cherry-plums are your favorite.”

In the receiving room of the Marquess’s estate, Sophia warmly entertained Countess Ariel, the Court Lady.

A Court Lady was, in essence, the king’s personal handmaiden. As the Chief Court Lady, Countess Ariel had to admit that Sophia’s beauty made her jealous, especially those purple eyes, like two flawless amethysts, that irresistibly drew one into their gentle gaze.

“Sophia, I truly don’t know what kind of man could resist your charm. At the tea party yesterday, the way Lord Andre defended you has already convinced everyone that the great Gold Knight has fallen at your feet,” Ariel sighed, her tone a mix of teasing, jealousy, and flattery.

Sophia popped a piece of candied fruit into her mouth, savoring its flavor. After a moment, she smiled, “I rather wish that were true. Unfortunately, Andre is here to court Princess Roland, not to see me.”

“You aren’t lovers yet?” Ariel asked, staring into Sophia’s eyes.

Sophia smiled faintly. “Of course not! My dear Ariel, perhaps you don’t understand Gold Knights. They all possess formidable willpower; for them, beauty is merely a pleasantry. They value a partner’s strength and wisdom, as well as a comparable station in life. Andre would not take a lover in Gambis. To do so would be to humiliate Princess Roland, and to humiliate himself.”

There was unconcealed disappointment in Ariel’s eyes. This was completely different from what she had expected.

“So you’ve made no progress at all in the last six months?”

The Court Lady’s questioning tone did not faze Sophia in the slightest. She pursed her lips and smiled. “How could there be no progress? Andre has already invited me to visit the Kingdom of Borea and promised to help me secure the distribution rights for Juniper wine. I believe it won’t be long before we can open a new trade route to the Borrey United Kingdom.”

Sophia felt a touch of pride and anticipation. Faced with an unmarried Gold Knight, all the noble young ladies desperately flaunted their beauty and elegance, yet in the end, they gained nothing. But Sophia, without making a sound, had won the Gold Knight’s favor and an opportunity to open a new trade route. Sophia believed she could certainly gain the greatest benefit from it; she always knew how to seize an opportunity.

A new trade route, the distribution rights for Juniper wine, a Gold Knight for a lover, and an heir of noble bloodline… As these thoughts crossed her mind, a captivating look filled Sophia’s eyes, her enchanting charm momentarily stunning even Countess Ariel.

“Sophia, it seems Lord Andre does have feelings for you… why can’t you keep him here?” Ariel said softly, lowering her gaze.

Sophia’s smile faded, her expression turning serious. “Is this Her Majesty the Queen’s will?”

“Sophia, our situation is dire. Marquess Golan has indicated that if Princess Roland has no intention of taking the throne, he will choose to support Grand Duke Williams. Therefore, our only way to turn the tables is to win over Lord Andre.”

Seeing Sophia’s lack of response, Ariel continued, “Baron Vilpan sent a letter saying that little Victor has completely betrayed us. He didn’t give you the rights to his coffee or Snow Sugar, and he even killed one of the Verpan family’s stewards. On top of that, he invented Purple Cane wine, which rivals Juniper wine, and gave the entire monopoly to the York family. The monopoly agreement they signed has already undergone Divine Notarization… Her Majesty believes you must make a decision soon.”

Sophia stood up and chuckled. “What kind of decision? To make me a widow again? Or does Her Majesty think Andre would love a woman with a malicious nature? Even if Andre married me, my merchant association would fall apart. A commercial family with a Gold Knight is no longer a commercial nobility. Surely Her Majesty the Queen understands this?”

“Besides, Her Majesty’s worries are unnecessary. Marquess Golan is loyal to Princess Roland. As long as the princess supports Prince Edward, Grand Duke Williams stands no chance.”

Ariel was at a loss for words. She certainly understood that the far-reaching influence of the commercial nobility relied not on military might, but on their harmlessness. But she had to convey Her Majesty the Queen’s message clearly.

“Her Majesty only asks if you agree. Everything else will be arranged.”

“I cannot agree.”

Ariel’s heart clenched. After a moment, she said in a strained voice, “Sophia, Her Majesty asked me to tell you that she can take away everything she has given you.”

A smile bloomed on Sophia’s exquisite face. She nodded and said, “I understand that. Please also relay to Her Majesty Catherine that as long as my merchant association and my title are not taken away, nothing else will change.”

After Countess Ariel left, Sophia sat quietly on the ivory-backed chair. Before long, an older woman entered the receiving room. Seeing Sophia’s melancholy, she asked with concern, “Sophia, are you all right?”

Sophia turned her gaze and smiled. “Aunt Helen, I’m fine.”

Helen was Sophia’s steward. She was not a knight, nor did she have a noble bloodline; she was just a commoner. Yet, Sophia trusted Helen deeply, for Helen had cared for her since she was a child.

“My lady, what is the Queen trying to do?” Helen asked worriedly.

“Catherine? She’s showing her hand. She thinks I only gained control of the Wimbledon Merchant Association with her support. Therefore, the association is hers, and so am I… A pity Catherine’s reaction was too slow,” Sophia giggled.

Seeing Sophia’s slyly triumphant expression, Helen also breathed a sigh of relief. She then said, “Will the Queen try to use little Victor against you? Should we send some people to protect him?”

Sophia shook her head. “Our people are too scattered; sending them would be more dangerous than not. If even Sylvia can’t protect Victor, our people would be useless.”

Then, she smiled again, “I never thought my little husband would have some value… a fact that will make Sylvia even more reluctant to let anything happen to him.”

Helen nodded in agreement. The merchant association was loosely organized with a complex staff, not as tightly knit and invulnerable as the York family. Moreover, Sophia had only controlled the association for a short time, and it was inevitable that it had been infiltrated. It was better to trust completely in the York family’s abilities than to send help that might become a hindrance.

Sophia stood up. She ran a slender finger down her long purple dress, and the priceless spider silk garment immediately split down the middle. She turned and asked, “Aunt Helen, is the Corridor of Thorns ready?”

“My lady, it is ready,” Helen replied with a bow.

With a smile, Sophia, now in her modified short skirt, walked into a hidden room. The floor of the room was covered with thorns, long and sharp. Sophia kicked off her crystal slippers and stepped barefoot onto them. Her delicate, snow-white feet stepping upon the black, hard-spiked thorns created a stark contrast, an image of tragic beauty.

Watching this scene, Helen felt both awe and pity. Who could have imagined how much blood the stunningly beautiful Marchioness Wimbledon had once shed on these very thorns.

Sophia came from a fallen noble family in the Kingdom of Sus. She was the youngest daughter, with an older brother and sister. In her youth, Sophia was not valued by her family. Back then, she had brown hair, brown eyes, and a plain appearance, which led her mother to despise her.

When Sophia was six, she fell gravely ill. To provide resources for her eldest son’s Aura training, her parents did not spend money to hire a priest to perform divine arts. After Sophia recovered, she was left with a severe side effect: half of her body was hunched. Her parents felt no pity for their disabled daughter; instead, they disliked her even more.

Three years later, Sophia’s brother successfully awakened his Aura and became an apprentice knight, bringing joy to the whole family. Sophia was no exception. She mustered her courage and asked her brother how she could cure her disability. Her brother mockingly told her that if she walked barefoot on thorns every day, she would become healthy.

Sophia believed him. Ignoring Helen’s pleas, she walked barefoot on the sharp thorns every day. Helen still clearly remembered the first time Sophia walked the path of thorns, the floor covered in blood. Helen had held Sophia, weeping, as she pulled the hard thorns one by one from her tender young feet, and Sophia’s face had been streaked with tears as well.

The hard thorns could not cure a physical disability, but they cured the disability in Sophia’s soul. Another three years passed, and Sophia awakened her Aura on her own. Her body was finally reborn. Other than Helen, no one knew that Sophia had become an apprentice knight. Her family only thought their foolish daughter had recovered on her own.

Two years later, Sophia left her family with Helen and became a wandering knight. After many twists and turns, Sophia joined the old Marquess Wimbledon’s merchant association, during which time she experienced many things and also met Sylvia. Having successfully advanced to the rank of Knight, Sophia began to blossom with astonishing beauty. When Sophia stepped into the Silver-rank, her beauty and intelligence captivated the old Marquess Wimbledon, and from then on, she became the mistress of the Wimbledon Merchant Association.

Now, the hard thorns could no longer harm Sophia in the slightest, but whenever she needed to think or train, she would still walk on them.

Sophia strode, her long legs walking over the thorns. As her slender hands moved, a green light flickered in and out of existence. Her Aura circulated at high speed, and the elements from the void gathered at her fingertips. A bright light flashed in Sophia’s eyes, and her bewitching purple hair flowed back like a blooming purple lotus. Three streams of green light appeared, circled her for a moment, then shot out. The light turned from green to white, from ethereal to solid, becoming three crescent moons of frost ten meters away. Then, the crescents shattered one by one, and a piercing cold spread rapidly, followed by a second wave, then a third. When the three waves of cold overlapped, the area in a twenty-meter radius was completely frozen. The thorns on the ground were sealed in frost, forming a field of thorny ice sculptures.

Her Aura dissipated, and her tender white feet were immediately pierced by the thorns. Dark red blood seeped out, but Sophia seemed not to notice at all, murmuring, “I felt it… that is the Elemental Sea.”

“My lady!” Helen cried out in distress, seeing the blood flowing from Sophia’s feet.

Sophia turned back to Helen and gave her a brilliant smile, her bell-like laughter echoing in the empty, secret room.

——————————————————

Queen Catherine was carefully cutting vibrant roses. Her flaxen hair was draped casually over her shoulders, and a bead of sweat glistened on the tip of her elegant nose.

In appearance, Catherine and Roland were very similar. Apart from their different hair colors, they looked like biological sisters, but Ariel knew they were not related by blood.

When Roland was three, her mother passed away from illness. King Ryan was overcome with grief, and Roland cried for her mother. A year later, Ryan married the fifteen-year-old Catherine.

King Ryan married Catherine solely because she greatly resembled Queen Irene, and Ryan wanted to find a mother for his young daughter. Catherine did not complain about being a substitute. She cared for Roland with great tenderness, acting as both a mother and a sister. Her devotion was rewarded; Roland became extremely close to her, and Ryan doted on her as well. With the birth of Edward, Catherine entered the happiest phase of her life, until her husband’s unfortunate fall.

Thinking of Ryan’s death, a dull ache throbbed in Ariel’s heart. Like Catherine, she had deeply loved this man, even though Ryan had never paid her any mind.

Ariel did not hate Neowist, the man who killed Ryan. Ryan died in a sacred knight’s duel; it was his destiny. Ariel hated Grand Duke Williams with an unparalleled passion. She believed the Grand Duke had conspired against Ryan.

“Your Majesty, why are you forcing Sophia’s hand? I believe she is right. Andre will not marry a great commercial noble… We should unite with Sophia and deal with Williams together,” Ariel couldn’t help but offer her counsel to Catherine.

Catherine snipped another rose before speaking. “Ariel, do you also believe that Williams was responsible for Ryan’s death?”

“Was he not?” Ariel raised an eyebrow, her expression cold.

“Ryan wanted to use those two earls to dismember the York family’s peripheral lords… I opposed his plan, as did Marquess Golan. Williams was a supporter… Besides them, one other person supported Ryan. It was because of that person’s support that Ryan resolutely decided to implement his plan,” Catherine said faintly.

“Who was it?” Ariel’s eyes blazed with fury; she never knew there was such an inside story.

Catherine was silent for a moment before saying, “It was Roland.”

Ariel paled in horror, exclaiming, “What?”

“Roland supported Ryan out of admiration. She believed every decision Ryan made was correct. Williams was the same. He had worshipped his older brother since childhood and was accustomed to obeying Ryan’s decisions.”

“How could this be?”

Ariel’s lips trembled, tears welling in her eyes. She could not accept that the brilliant and martial King Ryan had died because of his own arrogance.

Catherine stepped forward and gently took Ariel’s hand in a comforting gesture. Ariel had always loved her husband in silence, without receiving any of Ryan’s affection in return.

“Anyone who makes a mistake will pay a price. The higher their status, the greater the price. Regardless of whether there was a conspiracy, the fact is that Ryan made a mistake. At the wrong time, he tried to seize control of the eastern part of the kingdom. Neowist seized the opportunity, ruining the favorable situation in Gambis. Now Williams feels he has a responsibility to Gambis, so he wants the throne.”

“Williams? Even if he didn’t frame Ryan, he’s not blameless. His close ties with the Church… perhaps the Church was behind the whole thing,” Ariel sneered.

Catherine sighed. “It was my suggestion, and Ryan’s order, for Williams to get close to the Church.” The Queen paused, then continued, “This is politics. There is no good or evil, only victory and defeat. No matter what, Williams represents the interests of one faction, and we represent another. Now everyone wants to secure a place for themselves in the new order. We cannot compromise, or the powers behind us will abandon us.”

“Sophia is right. Golan is just trying to scare us. He would never support Williams; the powers he represents won’t allow it. But he won’t support us either… They only want to enthrone Roland. However, they will not object whether Edward or Williams takes the throne, because, they are followers of Auguste.”

“Since Golan won’t support Williams, why are you still going after Sophia?” Ariel asked, confused.

“Because Sophia betrayed me! She is following the old Marquess’s wishes and has once again taken a neutral path. It’s true! Neutrality is the way for a merchant association to survive, but what does that have to do with us? We went to great lengths to control the Wimbledon Merchant Association, not to make it neutral, but to make it serve us. Now, Sophia has usurped the fruits of our labor. How can I tolerate her?” Catherine said hatefully, her eyes burning with anger.

“Over the past few years, Sophia has been constantly transferring the people we placed in the Marquess’s estate. By now, most of our people have been moved abroad by her. At the same time, by suppressing the kingdom’s grain prices, she allowed the York family to purchase large quantities of cheap grain. With Williams pressing in at every step, I didn’t connect these things Sophia was doing. It wasn’t until the message about Victor came from Baron Vilpan that I finally realized what had happened.”

“Your Majesty, are you saying… the attack on Victor in the Centaur Hills was a conspiracy between Sophia and the York family? To eliminate the people we placed in the Marquess’s estate?” Ariel asked in horror.

Catherine nodded slowly, and a chill ran down Ariel’s spine.

After the old Marquess died, Sophia had approached Catherine with a will, asking for her help to take control of the merchant association on the condition that she would serve Catherine. Catherine had agreed. The will actually had no legal standing, as its contents violated the Radiant Code’s right of succession for a lord’s blood-kin. So, Catherine pushed the Senate to have Sophia choose a husband from the Wimbledon bloodline—which was Victor.

Ariel knew that Victor was the husband Catherine chose for Sophia. Because Victor had awakened the bloodline of a Moon Elf, he was weak, had difficulty siring children, and was easy to control. Legally, only the children of Victor and Sophia would be the legitimate heirs to the Wimbledon Marquessate. Without children, Sophia’s position would be unstable, allowing Catherine to leisurely place her own people within the merchant association. In a few years, even if Sophia had an heir, she wouldn’t be able to control the association.

At first, Sophia had shown great favor to Victor and had spared no effort to cooperate with Catherine in placing people in the Marquess’s estate. But with Ryan’s death in battle, Catherine’s power was greatly diminished, and Sophia seized her chance.

Andre’s arrival in the Royal Capital seeking a marriage alliance had made Catherine uneasy. Sophia used this opportunity to suggest to Catherine that she was willing to seduce Andre to sabotage the alliance. Catherine understood that if Sophia became pregnant with Andre’s child, her position as Marchioness would be secure. But forced to choose between the throne and the merchant association, Catherine chose the throne. She agreed to Sophia’s proposal. And so, Sophia kicked Victor out to the Centaur Hills to take up his post as a lord.

However, Victor was attacked, and all the personnel accompanying him were killed.

Those people were, in fact, the Queen’s agents placed in the Marquess’s estate. At the time, Catherine’s attention was focused on the Royal Capital, and she had no energy to spare for this matter. After Andre’s marriage alliance failed, Catherine received Baron Vilpan’s letter. Vilpan told Catherine that Victor had grown very close to the York family. Only then did Catherine understand Sophia’s scheme.

“Sophia knew that Victor was the key to our control over her. As long as Sophia wasn’t pregnant, if Victor died, her position would be questioned. So, she allied with the York family to clean out our people, then entrusted Victor to Sylvia’s protection, thereby completely breaking free of our control,” Catherine said bitterly.

“Sophia delivered Victor into the hands of the York family. Isn’t she afraid of being controlled by them?” Ariel asked doubtfully.

“The York family controls Victor, but they haven’t controlled the Marquess’s estate like we did. Sophia is free now,” Catherine sighed.

Ariel suddenly understood. Previously, Catherine had planted many spies and agents in the Marquess’s estate, and Sophia had appeared very compliant. But when Victor left the Royal Capital, Sophia had her people killed, transferred, or bought off. She was indeed free. And the York family, in their most difficult time, would not have a falling-out with Sophia. They needed the Wimbledon Merchant Association to transport supplies to the Centaur Hills.

“Your Majesty, are you planning to send assassins after the young baron?” Ariel collected herself and said, “Sophia isn’t pregnant yet, but she will soon visit the Kingdom of Borea. When she returns, I imagine she will have an heir with a noble bloodline. If we’re going to act, we must be quick.”

“Assassination? No! Assassinating someone under Sylvia’s protection is extremely difficult. At least, with our current strength, we can’t do it. We need to get the young baron back from the Centaur Hills and have him take control of the Wimbledon Merchant Association.” Catherine smiled. “I will send a letter to Baron Vilpan. He will understand what to do.”

Chapter 90: The Manpower Problem

At the tail end of the Season of Earth, the weather began to grow hot. On a sunny day like today, the heat made one want to do nothing but hide in the shade of a tree.

In Victor’s domain, Brick Kiln Village had no shade to offer. Over two hundred able-bodied farmers toiled tirelessly under the scorching sun on the open grounds. They were shirtless, with towels draped over their shoulders, their bare backs beaded with sweat that they had no time to wipe away. Countless grey bricks were moved from the drying chambers onto two-wheeled flatbed carts. The carters pulled the heavy loads straight to the loading area, where a dozen sturdy, durable oxcarts awaited their cargo.

On a hill to the south of Brick Kiln Village, a cluster of houses had been built on the shaded side—the residential area for the villagers. Every house here was built with bricks. Wood was now primarily used as fuel; the giant brick kiln below devoured countless bundles of dry wood every day.

Standing under a reed-thatched canopy on the hill, Victor gazed down at Brick Kiln Village below. A sense of satisfaction washed over him each time an oxcart loaded with grey bricks left the loading area.

“My lord, since the giant brick kiln went into operation, a single firing has yielded sixty thousand bricks. We now average an output of twelve thousand grey bricks a day,” Dean, the village head of Brick Kiln Village, reported proudly to Victor.

Dean had volunteered for the position of village head. Although he still longed to farm the land, he had been awed by the magnificent, thirty-meter-tall chimney when it was completed. In fact, the other village group leaders had been just as conflicted. Everything here seemed like a miracle in their eyes. In Brick Kiln Village, the entire process from molding the clay to firing the bricks took only twenty days. This level of efficiency was beyond their wildest imaginations; based on their old experience, the process of just sun-drying the earth took as long as four months. So, when the first batch of grey bricks from the giant kiln was ready, hundreds of villagers cheered and celebrated. The electrifying scene had infected everyone. Dean decisively recommended himself to Victor for the position of village head, and the other village group leaders soon began vying for the post as well. In the end, Victor chose Dean, precisely because he wanted to encourage this kind of initiative.

Victor picked up a finished grey brick and squeezed it hard, but the brick didn’t budge. This piqued his interest. He began to secretly channel his strength according to the method of the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form. A crack finally appeared on the solid brick, and it split in two.

Dean watched from the side, utterly dumbfounded. He knew the quality of these bricks; they were much sturdier than those made with traditional methods. How had one become so brittle in Victor’s hands? Dean hurriedly picked up the broken pieces from the ground and squeezed with all his might, but not a single new crack appeared.

There was nothing wrong with the quality. That meant the lord’s strength was far beyond that of an ordinary man. At this thought, Dean looked at his lord with eyes full of admiration.

Victor’s expression was as calm as still water, but inwardly he was groaning. His Physique had already reached 10, and his mastery of the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form was superb, yet he had needed to channel the power of his entire arm just to crush the brick. Of course, the grey bricks fired by the alchemical auxiliary soldiers were incredibly solid; crushing one with his fingers was still too great a strain for Victor. The entire arm he now held behind his back was twitching. With his current muscle mass, he couldn’t sustain the power output of the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form for long.

I shouldn’t have shown off! Victor discreetly shook his arm and said to Dean, “I’m satisfied with the quality of these bricks. Are you facing any difficulties managing Brick Kiln Village?”

Dean’s eyes darted around. He shot a look at Arlo, who was standing to one side, but the chief artisan of Brick Kiln Village stood there like a block of wood, showing no reaction. This greatly disheartened Dean.

This Arlo was an excellent brick-maker, but he was far too dull-witted. Dean had hoped Arlo would help him make a case to the lord, but now he had to speak for himself.

Dean braced himself and said to Victor, “My lord, we need more people. The workload in Brick Kiln Village is immense, and everyone is exhausted. So, I hope you can assign more men to us.”

Victor remained silent. It had been a full six months since he had taken control of this territory. Besides Hill Camp, he had established two farms, a Brick Kiln Village, and a Carpenter Village. A Flax Village was already under construction, and the site for a Blacksmith Village was being surveyed. The biggest problem now was the lack of manpower.

Victor currently controlled a population of over twelve hundred people. There were close to seven hundred able-bodied men, over two hundred young women, and the rest were mostly children and the elderly. The real labor force was only about nine hundred people. Among them, one hundred were guards who were exempt from labor. Of the remaining eight hundred, two hundred and fifty were in Brick Kiln Village, eighty in Carpenter Village, two hundred were building the Flax Village, and another two hundred, led by Moline, were cultivating land, gathering crops, raising cattle and horses, harvesting Purple Cane, and making wine and sugar. The remaining few dozen people were responsible for transport.

Now, all the village group leaders were demanding more people from Victor. At the last meeting, they had argued fiercely over the issue of manpower. When Dean said he needed more labor, he was immediately torn to shreds. Moline argued that the territory’s main income currently depended entirely on raw sugar and Purple Cane wine, so he needed to pull people from other areas. But Fero, the village head of Carpenter Village, sneered that the cart wheels they produced were selling extremely well in Black Fortress Town; if he were given more men, Carpenter Village’s income would surely surpass Moline’s farms. Group Leader Kent, in charge of establishing the Flax Village, produced a piece of fine linen cloth for everyone to see. He declared smugly that this fine linen was woven by two of his subordinates. Its quality was perfect, and the noble lords would surely be willing to pay a high price for it. Even Narsen was stirred by the heated atmosphere of the meeting and was eager to speak, but a glare from Victor silenced him before he could open his mouth.

In truth, the biggest manpower shortage was in the transport caravans. Bricks needed to be transported, timber needed to be transported, Purple Cane needed to be transported, and soon even clay would need to be transported. To this end, Victor had purchased over forty strong oxen in Black Fortress Town, and the oxcarts were built by Carpenter Village. He had the carts, but not enough drivers. Victor had no choice but to assign the transport tasks to Narsen’s guards. This was why Narsen wanted to expand his guard force.

According to Victor’s plan, Brick Kiln Village had to be expanded with two more giant kilns. His grand plans for a castle depended on it, and failure was not an option. Furthermore, once the Blacksmith Village was under construction, he would need several hundred miners. With the increase in these laborers, the domain would need even more people for logistics, including transport, farming, cloth-making, as well as guards and security. Victor calculated that he needed at least another five hundred able-bodied laborers. Including their families, that would be around eight hundred people.

Dean watched Victor anxiously. He knew his request would displease the other village group leaders, but as the village head, he had to fight for the interests of his subordinates.

After a moment of contemplation, Victor said, “Right now, the entire domain is short on people. Your village already has the most manpower. So, for the time being, no more men will be assigned to you.”

Dean was somewhat disappointed, but he still said, “My lord, the villagers are truly working hard. Their enthusiasm is already waning. If we don’t take action, I worry there will be instances of slacking off.”

Victor knew Dean wasn’t threatening him; it was the truth. These people weren’t getting paid wages yet, and relying on meat tickets alone was not enough to boost morale.

“How about this: I will allow you to promote thirty subjects each month, recommend two people for work point slots, and what’s more, whenever we recruit women, your Brick Kiln Village will have the first pick of twenty. These women can also work on molding bricks. We will be recruiting more people very soon. Before then, you need to groom more key personnel within Brick Kiln Village.”

When Victor played this trump card, Dean’s face lit up, and he nodded repeatedly.

Victor offered a few more words of encouragement to Dean before leaving Brick Kiln Village, surrounded by his guards.

Inside the spacious and comfortable carriage, Lilia, dressed in a long, white, fine linen dress with her hair down, popped a piece of candied fruit preserved in sugar into Victor’s mouth.

“Victor, why don’t we recruit more subjects? Our monthly income is over two hundred Gold Sols now. We can definitely afford to support more people,” Lilia said sweetly.

Victor smiled faintly. The domain’s raw sugar was selling like hotcakes at two Silver Sols a pound, and those unassuming cart wheels were selling for ten Silver Sols apiece. But this was still too little money for Victor. He needed more. Victor knew the best way to make money was to form a caravan. A fine linen dress like the one Lilia was wearing would be worth ten times as much if transported to the Sasan Empire, and bringing back Sasan’s cheap sheepskin would yield a fivefold profit.

But forming a caravan couldn’t be rushed. It depended on a lord’s connections. What Victor desperately needed now was manpower. But before recruiting more subjects, Victor had to solve one problem: the spies.

According to the news from Old John and his men, the York family had conducted a census of the freemen outside the town and had taken away many with skills. The York family had not valued these skills before, as they had better artisans, yet they had still recruited these people. Clearly, they believed that many of Victor’s new technologies were the creations of artisans from among the freemen. This also meant that Victor’s Brick Kiln Village, Carpenter Village, and Flax Village had all fallen under the gaze of the York family.

Although the technologies provided by the alchemical auxiliary soldiers were all common fare, if he didn’t clean out these spies, Victor would have no advantage to speak of. What was more terrifying was that the York family was now very interested in him. If Victor started recruiting subjects, they would surely dispatch more spies. If these newcomers joined forces with the spies already in place, they would form an all-pervasive intelligence network. Therefore, he had to dig out the spies already within his domain first.

Of course, the York family would still send spies when Victor recruited new subjects, but those people would be stuck scrambling at the bottom with little chance to access the core. Without anyone to cover for them, they would be easily exposed and would not be a serious threat.

“We will certainly recruit more people. But before that, we’ll see if that old fox Barol can really help us dig out that nest of rats.”

——————————————————

Robby, Baron Vilpan’s steward, moved cautiously through the castle. He was about to see his master, which made him a little nervous.

Ever since that family steward was killed in Black Fortress Town, Baron Vilpan had become particularly volatile, often whipping his servants for trivial matters. Now, every attendant in the castle was on their best behavior, daring not to make a single mistake, lest they become the Baron’s next punching bag.

In a stone chamber, a man in a red cape was gazing out a window.

“My lord, good day. I hear you summoned me,” Robby said with the utmost deference.

The man turned around. He was in his thirties, with blond hair, a handsome face, and a strong, burly physique. He wore a light-blue hunting suit, and a ruby clasp fastened the fiery red cape at his chest. He looked dashing, mature, and steady. This was Baron Vilpan, Queen Catherine’s cousin.

Baron Vilpan turned, nodding at Robby with a smile. “Robby, I have a task for you.”

The Baron’s warm and gracious smile eased Robby’s tense heart. He bowed and said, “I await my lord’s command.”

“I want you to go to Black Fortress Town and spread a message among the freemen. It’s about Baron Victor.”

The moment Robby heard it was about dealing with Baron Victor, he grew excited. He knew it was this same Baron Victor who had earned Baron Vilpan’s immense hatred, which in turn had caused them, the servants, to suffer greatly. Robby was thrilled at the chance to help his lord vent his anger.

“My lord, what message do you want me to spread?”

Vilpan smiled. “I want you to go among the freemen and extol the richness of Victor’s domain, the benevolence of Lord Victor, and his work point system that promotes freemen directly to vassals.”

Robby stood stunned for a long moment, wondering if he had misheard. He was an expert at spreading rumors, but this was the first time he had ever been ordered to spread rumors praising an opponent.

“My lord, you want me to praise Baron Victor among the freemen?” Robby asked cautiously.

Vilpan nodded and said with certainty, “You heard me correctly. You are to praise him. You don’t need to concern yourself with anything else. You may depart now.”

“Yes, my lord. I’ll go at once.” Robby didn’t dare ask any more questions. He bowed and retreated.

Watching Robby ride away from the castle, Vilpan revealed a satisfied smile.

Baron Vilpan was not his family’s eldest son and had no right to inheritance, but he had a powerful and influential cousin. His cousin, Catherine, was originally the daughter of a minor noble. Ever since she became the Queen of Gambis, Vilpan’s family had immediately played up their connection. But Catherine had never shown any favoritism toward these relatives; on the contrary, she kept them under strict control. But after Ryan died in battle, Queen Catherine’s attitude toward her family did a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn. She swiftly appointed many relatives to important positions in the court. Even he, the second son of his family, was granted a fief by Catherine, becoming the pioneer lord of the Centaur Hills.

Vilpan was overcome with gratitude for his cousin Catherine and swore his loyalty to her. Originally, Vilpan’s fief and Victor’s were connected, providing mutual support. But Victor had casually swapped his land with the York family, and Vilpan’s fief was immediately surrounded by York territory. Now, Vilpan’s caravans were subjected to heavy taxes by the Yorks whenever they entered or left the Centaur Hills.

Because of this, Vilpan hated Victor to the bone. When his steward was killed by Victor’s guards, Vilpan flew into a rage, but there was nothing he could do.

Vilpan wrote a letter to Catherine, describing Victor’s actions in detail, hoping Her Majesty the Queen would severely punish this traitor. After a month of anxious waiting, Vilpan finally received a reply from Catherine. The contents of the letter left him in awe. He immediately began to set his plan in motion, the first step of which was to arrange for his steward Robby to go praise Victor among the freemen.

“You’re finished, Victor. It won’t matter even if you’re Lady Rose’s lover. Her Majesty the Queen’s scheme is inescapable!”

Chapter 91: Sending the God Away

To the west of Victor’s domain lay an endless expanse of mountains. The highest of these hills was no more than 700 meters, with gentle slopes and lush vegetation, inhabited by herds of wild boar, yellow goats, and short-tailed deer.

A dozen short-tailed deer were leisurely grazing on fresh alfalfa in a mountain valley. When the dense bushes on the hillside swayed, the vigilant creatures immediately scattered and fled.

After a moment, a colossal beast over three meters tall rose from the shrubs. It was a massive bear, whose glossy fur, sharp long claws, and terrifying size all identified it as a Savage Bear.

Watching the short-tailed deer run further and further away, the giant bear showed no intention of pursuing them. Although it weighed a full three thousand pounds, it was even faster than these nimble animals and possessed far greater stamina. If it chose to hunt, no prey could escape its grasp. But today, it had more important business.

The giant bear leaped forward, shattering the tough shrubs around it and leaving two deep claw marks on the ground. The massive male bear bounded over a ten-meter-wide mountain stream, landing on the opposite hill. It had to continue patrolling its territory. As a Savage Bear, its domain was twenty kilometers wide and fifty kilometers long. In this vast area, it was the undisputed overlord, and every female bear here was its mate. Recently, however, it had discovered two powerful beasts invading its territory. To protect its harem, it had to drive the intruders out.

It was the Season of Earth. Flowers were in full bloom, and buzzing wild bees diligently collected nectar among them. A huge beehive hung from the branches of a nearby tree. The sweet honey and tender larvae within were the giant bear’s favorite treat. Although the stings of these wild bees were ferocious—especially the soldier bees, whose vicious mandibles could tear through the hides of most animals—they were not enough to harm the giant bear. On any other day, the giant bear would have swatted the tree down and feasted on its beloved snack under a frantic assault from the bees. But today, the giant bear’s mind was not on honey. It had already caught the scent of its rival; its enemy was close at hand.

The giant bear rose to its feet. Its height of over three meters gave it a wide field of vision, and it soon spotted the beast that had invaded its territory. It was a massive, bizarre-looking wolf with blue-black fur, chilling fangs, and a pair of glowing green eyes. The bristles on the giant bear’s back stood on end, making it appear even larger. It let out a low roar at the giant wolf, a warning for the opponent to leave its territory.

The giant bear was not afraid of this strange wolf, but its instincts told it this would be a difficult opponent. Even if it managed to kill the wolf, it would likely be injured in the process. As long as the strange wolf left its territory willingly, an unnecessary conflict could be avoided. This was a tacit understanding between powerful beasts.

The strange wolf did not retreat. Instead, it lifted its hind leg and urinated on a bush. Faced with such a blatant provocation, the enraged giant bear let out a roar that echoed through the mountain forest and lunged at the wolf. It was going to tear this insolent fool to shreds. The strange wolf turned and ran, with the giant bear in hot pursuit. To its frustration, it found that it was not as fast as its opponent. But that didn’t matter. It would continue the chase, confident that its stamina would eventually wear the creature down.

The Savage Bear raced through the forest, snapping trees, crushing bushes, and trampling thorns. Nothing could block its path. But when it chased its quarry into a valley, the giant bear suddenly stopped. Seeing the behemoth behind it halt, the strange wolf, far from continuing its escape, turned back and let out a provocative roar. The giant bear remained unmoved. Its animal instincts were screaming at it: If I go any further, I will die!

The giant bear sniffed the air forcefully, but unfortunately, it was downwind and detected nothing. Still, the sense of unease swirled in its mind. The giant bear decided to turn back. Ignoring the strange wolf’s taunts, it turned to leave.

It had not taken more than a few steps when a tragic howl from behind stopped it in its tracks. It was the cry of a female bear. The giant bear whirled around to a sight that made its eyes split with rage: another strange wolf was emerging from the other side of the valley, dragging a beautiful young female bear.

The giant bear recognized the young female; she was its favorite mate. Her soft fur and musky scent had always fascinated it. But now, she was howling helplessly in the wolf’s jaws, dark red blood pouring from her neck. The sight thoroughly enraged the giant bear. With bloodshot eyes, it charged toward the wolf, the threat of death completely forgotten.

A silver stream of light shot out from the bushes, piercing directly into the Savage Bear’s iron-hard skull. A crossbow bolt as thick as a pigeon’s egg emerged from the back of its head. The giant bear’s powerful life force allowed it to charge forward for over a hundred meters with the bolt in its head before it finally crashed to the ground.

The two strange wolves bit through the poor female bear’s throat, but they were hesitant to approach the fallen giant bear. Only when the bear stopped convulsing did they trot over, sniff it, and let out a howl. It was then that a hunter, camouflaged with branches, stood up from the bushes.

The hunter whistled, and two black crows flew out from the woods. They circled over the mountain-like corpse of the giant bear for a moment, then cawed and flew north. Two other companions were waiting for the signal to the north. They would enter the bear’s den to collect a special mineral specimen.

The hunter retrieved a massive crossbow covered in leaves from the bushes and walked toward the bear’s corpse. Drawing a silver shortsword from his waist, he began to skin the animal.

This hunter was one of Victor’s Alchemical Militia.

Concerned that there might be an Ogre clan in this mountain range, Victor had used his limited funds to produce ten alchemical crows, one Alchemical Militiaman, one Alchemical Auxiliary Soldier with forging skills, and had also dispatched two Warhounds. Victor ordered these alchemical creatures to conduct a survey of the mountain range.

After a month of surveying, the alchemical creatures had not found any Ogre clans in the sprawling mountains, only two small Gnoll tribes. They had also discovered a large grove of Oilwood and a high-quality iron vein. However, a Savage Bear had made its den near the vein, making it impossible to continue the survey.

Upon receiving the report, Victor consulted Reno carefully, then made the decision to hunt the Savage Bear. He dispatched a militiaman to deliver a Thorium heavy crossbow.

The Thorium heavy crossbow was a top-tier weapon secretly crafted by several Alchemical Auxiliary Soldiers in the upper camp. To create it, Victor had painfully dismantled a military-grade heavy crossbow. Busuo fused the materials with Thorium, and the resulting Thorium heavy crossbow was so powerful that an ordinary person couldn’t even draw it with a windlass. Only a Crouching Ox Militiaman with a Physique of seventeen could manage it. Its power had increased exponentially; Victor believed this superweapon could even kill an Ogre.

The Lithe Ape militiaman who received the Thorium heavy crossbow did not disappoint, successfully killing the fearsome beast. In truth, savage beasts were very difficult to deal with; their Wild Instinct always allowed them to evade danger. They were far more perceptive and clever than their ordinary counterparts. But cleverness was not wisdom. The greatest difference between a beast and a sentient being was the inability to control its own nature. When the Savage Bear encountered an Alchemical Militiaman who understood its nature, it became the prey. In the eyes of the Néier Empire’s alchemists, the concept of a “Savage state” never existed; the combat units fabricated by the Empire could perhaps all be considered savage creatures.

————————————

Hager walked into the private mess hall and saw his group members drinking Purple Cane wine sullenly.

“Everyone’s not in high spirits, I see.” Hager pulled out a chair and sat down with a grin.

A moment of silence passed before a group member finally spoke up. “Chief, look at the other groups, they’re all overjoyed. Their leaders have all become Village Heads. But us? We’re still just a Villager Group.”

“Chief, I just don’t get it. What do we lack compared to them? Why did we have to be at the bottom?” another group member grumbled resentfully.

The other members, though silent, continued to drink their sorrow away, one cup after another.

Hager glanced around. The other tables of Villagers were all laughing and talking loudly. In comparison, his group was much more somber. Hager shook his head and chuckled; they were all just a bunch of farmers with no foresight.

“I know you’re all blaming me for not competing with the other group leaders for the Village Head positions. But, you’ve all heard the phrase the master chefs often say: ‘The best dishes are always served last.’”

“Tell me, which village do you think the lord values the most?” Hager asked with a smile.

The group members exchanged glances. One of them ventured, “Brick Kiln Village?”

“The lord does indeed value Brick Kiln Village, but that’s only because Blacksmith Village hasn’t been built yet. Think about it, when Blacksmith Village is being built, how many men do you think the lord will assign to us? I’m telling you, it won’t be fewer than three hundred! Who will be the number one village in the territory then?”

“The chief is the chief for a reason! You think so much more clearly than we do,” a group member exclaimed, slapping the table in sudden realization.

Seeing his men’s spirits lift, Hager smiled and took a sip of Purple Cane wine. There were many good things in Victor’s domain, but what Hager most looked forward to was the yet-to-be-built Blacksmith Village. He had participated in the construction of the other villages and had grasped most of their secrets, but Blacksmith Village was directly related to military armaments. As a spy trained by the York family, Hager was especially focused on this point.

“It’s a pity we have too few people here,” Hager thought to himself. “When Baron Victor recruits miners, I hope the family can send me more help.”

A guard walked over and said to Hager, “Group Leader Hager, the lord wishes to speak with you about recruiting miners.”

Hager’s heart leaped with joy. As he and the guard walked out of the private mess hall, he could hear his subordinates cheering behind him.

In the hearts of all the subjects, the upper camp was a mysterious and imposing place. Only a select few could enter directly without being summoned. Hager was not among them. When he walked into Victor’s office with a beaming smile, he saw several familiar partners, and his smile froze on his face.

A quill spun rapidly between Victor’s fingers. His other hand stroked his chin, which was smooth and delicate without any stubble, a fact that vexed Victor somewhat. Back on Earth, he had to shave every two days, and back then he had wished he didn’t have to deal with such a troublesome thing. But now that he was truly without a beard, it reminded him of a certain ancient and strange profession from Earth.

The three partners looked at Hager awkwardly. They all understood they had been exposed.

“Archer greets you, my lord Baron. Good day, my lord,” Hager said with a bitter smile, bowing to Victor.

Victor exchanged a glance with Narsen and asked, “So Archer is your real name, which means you are a spy for the York family?”

“Yes, my lord. I am indeed a spy for the York family. Could my lord tell me how you saw through my disguise?”

Hager saw that Guard Captain Narsen was empty-handed, which clearly meant Baron Victor had no intention of using force against him, so he admitted it readily. At the same time, he was very curious. He and his men were as proficient at farming as any ordinary farmer; how had Baron Victor seen through them?

“Do you remember telling me last time that you once collected honey for a nobleman in the Eastern Province?” Victor said with a smile. “I believe you’ve eaten honey, but you certainly have never collected it. I happen to know that ordinary farmers can’t collect honey. Wild bees are very ferocious; their bites can tear through ordinary leather armor. Collecting honey requires a professional honey-gathering team, which are usually organized by nobles. No one would dare steal honey; they would not only get a whipping but also lose a considerable reward.”

In Victor’s memory, the young baron’s father had owned two honey-gathering teams, which were a major source of their family’s income.

“So, after I was exposed, my lord quietly began investigating the people around me, and only confronted us once you had found us all?”

Hager was dejected. He had originally thought one of his companions had accidentally revealed their identity, but it turned out he himself had been the one to slip up.

Victor smiled but said nothing. He had discovered Hager, but the two from the guard corps had been rooted out using Barol’s methods. As for the other one, Victor had also discovered him himself.

“Well then, Sir Knight, are you going to keep up the act?” Victor said with a smile to an old farmer.

The room fell silent. The old farmer looked at Victor in astonishment, then slowly straightened his body. An imperious and imposing aura emanated from him. Narsen raised his eyebrows, took a step forward, and placed himself in front of Victor.

Looking at Narsen, a hint of admiration flashed in the old farmer’s eyes. Though he was fully confident he could defeat this mercenary, Narsen stood there with an iron-willed and fearless aura. The old farmer believed that Narsen would not even flinch if he were facing a Gold Knight. This was a valiant warrior.

“Grisse York, at your service, Baron Victor,” the old farmer said, giving Victor a Knight’s salute.

Victor smiled and patted Narsen’s shoulder, signaling him to relax. “All of you, leave. I need to speak with Sir Grisse alone.”

After everyone had left, the old knight said to Victor with a bitter smile, “Baron Victor, how did you discover I was a Knight?”

“Because you are very unprofessional,” Victor said, amused.

The old knight would never have guessed that Victor could detect a person’s elemental attributes. Ever since Hager was exposed, Victor had been periodically probing those who interacted with him, and as a result, he had indeed found this knight disguised as an old farmer. In fact, Hager was a professional. The other spies weren’t ferreted out by observing Hager, but because the old knight had made many mistakes, which led Victor to use the methods Barol had provided to find them one by one.

“My lord Baron, you really shouldn’t have found me out,” the old knight said in vexation.

“Why?” Victor asked, his eyes burning.

“I was ordered by My Lady to protect you in secret,” the old knight replied frankly.

Victor’s face was as still as water. After a moment, he said, “Sylvia is truly extravagant, to send a noble Knight to disguise himself as a lowly farmer, just to protect me?”

“I know it is hard to believe, but it is the truth. In fact, when you were recruiting mercenaries, My Lady had a team prepared for you. It’s a pity you chose the War Bear Mercenaries. Victor, please believe me, we bear you no ill will,” Sir Grisse said with sincerity.

Victor was silent for a long time. “Does Nicole know your identity?”

If Nicole knew about this, Victor would have no choice but to part ways with her. Victor had too many secrets, and the power of a great family terrified him. Forcing a Knight to disguise himself as a farmer, doing farm work every day, was an unbelievably incredible thing. But Sylvia had done it.

“Nicole does not know. Neither does Bruce. They don’t even recognize me. My origins are the same as Nicole’s. It’s just that I am old now.”

Grisse sighed. The family had raised him, and he had to serve the family. It was a grievance to pose as a farmer to protect Victor, but he had to pave the way for his own children. That was what My Lady had promised him.

“You may all leave,” Victor said in a low voice.

“My lord, please let me stay and protect you. The others can withdraw.”

If Grisse were to return like this, his mission would be a failure. Even if the family wouldn’t punish him, the promised rewards would likely be forfeit.

“I don’t need your protection. And I am not a vassal of the York family. You have overstepped your bounds,” Victor said coldly.

Then, Victor raised his hand to stop Grisse’s pleading and tossed him several parchment scrolls.

“Take these back with you. Sylvia will not make things difficult for you.”

Grisse opened them, and a smile of relief spread across his troubled face. He said to Victor, “As you wish, my lord. Before we leave, please allow me to do one last thing for you.”

Chapter 92: A Surging Tide

At the crack of dawn, Buma climbed out of bed. She changed into her coarse, white linen maid’s uniform, tied on a light blue apron, and drew a basin of water to wash up properly. She paid special attention to her hair, wiping it thoroughly with a damp towel before wrapping her long tresses behind her head with a blue kerchief. Buma walked over to a full-length bronze mirror, examined her reflection, and a faint, satisfied smile appeared on her face.

The fabric of the uniform was coarse, but it made her look sharp and spirited, and Buma liked it very much. Every maid at the Goat Tavern had two such outfits. Proprietor John called them uniforms.

Six days ago, Buma had become a maid at the Goat Tavern. As a mother of two, she had to work hard. The Goat Tavern’s business was excellent, relying not on young, fiery waitresses, but on two haughty master chefs. The dishes they prepared were exquisite and delicious, and the raw sugar bread was also very popular. As a result, Proprietor John paid handsome wages. Far too many people wanted to work here; if not for running into an acquaintance, Buma would never have had the chance to get this job.

Buma carried a bucket of water, ready to give the gleaming tables and chairs in the main hall a good wipe-down. When she entered the hall, three other maids were already cleaning. Buma blushed slightly. She had thought she was up early enough, but she was still behind the others.

Buma rolled up her sleeves, preparing to start, but Proprietor John of the tavern called her over.

“Buma, you don’t have to work today. You can go home and see your children.”

Buma’s face went deathly pale. She pleaded with tears in her eyes, “Proprietor John, please. For Ina’s sake, don’t fire me. I’ll be sure to get up earlier next time.”

Buma was terrified. She loved this job, and she loved living at the Goat Tavern. Even if it was just a cramped space under the stairs, it was a hundred times better than a freeman’s shack.

Old John slapped his forehead and explained, “You’re not being fired. You’re new to the Goat Tavern, so you don’t know our rules yet. Here, you get one day of rest for every six days of work. You can take care of your personal business on your day off, like visiting your children or seeing friends and family. Don’t worry, you can come back to work as usual tomorrow.”

The weight lifted from Buma’s chest. She asked timidly, “Proprietor John, can I still keep my space under the stairs?”

“As you wish,” Old John said with an indifferent shrug.

Buma headed toward the freemen’s shantytown, carrying a basket. Her husband and children still lived there. In the basket were two loaves of raw sugar bread, each as thick as her calf and a full half-meter long. They were a gift from Proprietor John, who said it was a benefit. Buma didn’t know what “benefits” were, but she knew her children would love the bread. A smile touched her lips at the thought, but it vanished as her lazy, work-averse husband came to mind, and her face clouded over once more.

Buma’s current man was her second husband; she had been separated from her first during the migration. To survive, Buma had partnered with her current husband. They had been in Black Fortress Town for three years, and anyone diligent and willing to endure hardship could always find a way to make a living. But Buma’s husband had idled his time away, barely scraping by on the Church’s relief aid. What infuriated Buma was that not only did this man fail to provide for her and the children, but he would also steal the children’s rations, as the two boys were from her marriage to her first husband.

To feed her children, Buma had farmed for The Cabbages, but because she was a woman, they had only been willing to pay her half the wages. When the Goat Tavern was hiring, Buma had decided to try her luck. Fortunately, she ran into Ina, from her old village, at the tavern. Ina told Buma that she was accompanying her husband to Black Fortress Town to deliver supplies. Her new husband had a fief of over ten mu and was one of the lord’s vassals. Moreover, he was on very good terms with the owner of the Goat Tavern. With Ina’s help, Buma was hired, with room and board included, for a monthly wage of sixty Copper Sols.

The freemen’s shantytown in Black Fortress Town still stank, though it was much better than before. The muddy roads had been paved with gravel, and the area was not as chaotic as it once was. At least now she didn’t have to worry about being robbed while carrying two loaves of bread.

Buma believed this was all thanks to the efforts of the Sacred Warrior, Lord Claude. What she didn’t know was that many pairs of eyes were watching her from the shadows. It was only her blue and white maid’s uniform that kept them at bay. Master Monkey had given orders: anyone who dared to touch someone from the Goat Tavern would be buried in a pit.

Seeing the narrow, low shack ahead, Buma felt a sense of dread and disgust. She had wanted to bring her two children with her, but her husband had said that a boss would surely fire her for bringing children to work. After much consideration, Buma had left the children in his care. At the Goat Tavern, however, she discovered that other maids had their children with them, and Proprietor John didn’t mind at all.

In fact, the old mercenaries seemed to have a soft spot for children. Perhaps intentionally, perhaps not, they would even teach the children some martial skills, and the older kids could find odd jobs at the grocery shop next door. You sow a few seeds, and who knows what the harvest will bring.

Buma took a deep breath and walked toward the shack. She decided that even if it meant taking a beating, she would take her children away today.

“Do you think it’s true? You go to Victor’s fief, and you get vassal status just like that?”

“How can you believe such a rumor? Vassal status requires three generations of service to a lord,” another man, Baidi, scoffed.

Baidi had already heard the news about Victor’s fief recruiting vassals, and he couldn’t believe these old acquaintances had actually come to him to discuss it. He thought them unbearably stupid. In his eyes, no lord would be so foolish. Only dumb farmers would believe such a rumor.

“You don’t get vassal status directly. You have to join something called a work point system. You earn work points every day you work, and every one thousand work points can be exchanged for one mu of fief land. Once you have ten mu, you become a vassal,” another freeman interjected. He had inquired carefully.

“Old Haiden gathered a group and left the day before yesterday. And Milu’s crew set out five days ago,” someone else added.

“Whether the news is true or not, it’s worth the trip. And the sooner, the better.”

Hearing this, the freemen all nodded. They were as antsy as cats on a hot tin roof, wishing they could leave immediately.

Listening to them speak so vividly, Baidi was also tempted, but he was too lazy to move. His woman had found a decent job now; there was no need to take a risk on such an unreliable piece of news.

The shack door was pushed open, startling the men. When they saw it was Baidi’s wife, Buma, they breathed a sigh of relief. But Baidi’s face darkened.

“Why are you back? Did Proprietor John fire you?”

Buma shot her husband a look of disgust. “No, Proprietor John gave me the day off. I came back to see the children.”

Baidi let out a breath. As long as his woman hadn’t been fired, it was fine. He was still counting on Buma to earn money for him, even if it was as a waitress at the Goat Tavern.

Buma ignored the group of men. Like Baidi, they were all a bunch of layabouts living on relief aid. She walked further into the shack, where her two children were huddled in a corner.

“Mama brought you bread, and it’s sweet raw sugar bread,” Buma said, her heart aching to the point of tears as she looked at her two bruised sons. They had surely been beaten by Baidi often these past few days.

A thick arm shot out and snatched the bread from Buma’s hands.

“I haven’t eaten yet, what’s the rush, you little brats?” Baidi snarled.

“Give it back! Proprietor John gave that to the children!” Buma lunged at the shameless man, wrestling with him to get the bread back.

“You whoring bitch! Did that one-legged old man send you away with just two loaves of bread?” Baidi shoved Buma to the ground, cursing her viciously.

“You can have the bread. I’m taking the children,” Buma said, calming herself. She pulled her two terrified, crying children to their feet and rushed for the door.

Baidi was furious. These two little brats were his tools for controlling Buma. If she took the children, how would he make money off her in the future? It was not uncommon in this world for a woman with children to find a new man.

Baidi grabbed Buma’s hair, dragged her back, and slapped her hard across the face. Just as he was about to continue his assault, his arm was caught.

“This is my family business, are you going to interfere?” Baidi yelled at the man holding his arm.

The freeman released his arm and smiled at Baidi. “Your wife works at the Goat Tavern. You haven’t forgotten Master Monkey’s words, have you?”

“She’s my woman. Surely Master Monkey wouldn’t meddle in my family affairs,” Baidi said, his expression wavering. He didn’t dare to strike again.

“We can’t speak for Master Monkey,” the freeman said. “We heard the Goat Tavern is Lord Baron Victor’s property. So, we wanted to ask Buma if the rumors about the work point system are true.”

All eyes, including Baidi’s, fixed expectantly on Buma.

“The work point system is real. You all know Ina, right? She’s now the wife of a vassal in Victor’s fief. She’s the one who got me my job. She told me that Victor’s fief is short on people right now. The Baron is preparing to recruit subjects from here, but the work point system will soon reach its limit. If you’re going, you need to hurry!”

At that moment, Buma just wanted this disgusting man to get as far away from her as possible, so she spilled out everything she had heard.

The freemen were red-eyed and breathing heavily. They wished they could grow wings and fly to Victor’s fief. This was an opportunity of a lifetime.

Baidi felt the same, but he was thinking further ahead.

“We should gather more people to go together. The more, the better!”

“Are you crazy? Didn’t you hear Buma? The work point system is about to be capped, and you want to bring more people?” one of the freemen snarled.

Baidi shot him a disdainful look. “Only if we take enough people will the lord take us seriously. That’s how we’ll get priority for the work point system.”

The others were stunned by Baidi’s foresight. After a long moment, someone asked, “That’s a good idea. But if there are too many of us, what will we eat on the way? It’s a twenty-day journey! Where would we get that much food? And what if those people rebel? What if they steal our spots?”

“Mmm, it’s better if we just go by ourselves. With fewer people, we can forage for wild vegetables along the way. That should be enough.”

Baidi grew frantic. A twenty-day walk was no easy task, and most importantly, he was afraid of dying. Heaven knew if they might run into a Gnoll. There was safety in numbers, and even more safety in being the leader. If they encountered a monster, he certainly wouldn’t be the one to die, and he might even impress the lord. Baidi didn’t want to take the risk, but he was unwilling to give up this chance. Yet he had no answer to the problems his companions raised. He paced back and forth in agitation, not even noticing that Buma had already led her two children out of the shack.

“May the Lord of Radiance watch over you.”

As she left, Buma tossed the cold words over her shoulder. There was another sentence she left unsaid: May the great Lord judge this beast Baidi soon!

Buma was gone, but Baidi didn’t care. Once he became a vassal, he could marry any woman he wanted. But Buma’s words had given him an idea.

“I have it! We don’t have food, and we can’t control everyone, but there’s someone who can, and he definitely won’t be competing with us for a spot in the work point system!”

“Who?”

“The Sacred Warrior, Lord Claude!”

——————————————

“Gellis, are you certain you’ve dealt with all the Chapman family’s spies?”

Sylvia wore a charming smile, her slender, jade-white hands gently stroking several parchment scrolls. She was in an excellent mood. These were the various blueprints Victor had sent her, including the design for the giant brick kiln she had coveted most.

Gellis replied with the utmost respect, “Yes, My Lady. According to Archer’s observations, the Chapman family had arranged a total of three spies in the upper camp. I killed two and let one go. I imagine Earl Chapman has received our warning by now.”

Sylvia nodded. She had great faith in Archer’s abilities; he was one of the family’s top spies.

“But your mission was a failure! And it was due to your negligence that our people were driven out!” the portly Earl York said coldly. The thought of no longer being able to freely peek at Victor’s new contraptions made his heart ache.

Seeing the old knight’s embarrassed face, Sylvia patted Earl York’s hand and said in a soft voice, “Gellis is not a professional spy, after all. I’m already very grateful that he was willing to stoop to this. What’s more, he brought back such precious things.”

Sylvia then turned to Gellis. “Gellis, although your mission failed, I am very pleased with what you brought back. I will honor every promise I made to you. You may go.”

Gellis was overjoyed. He had humbled himself to pose as a lowly farmer precisely for this moment. The old knight gave the Earl and his wife a deep bow and exited the room.

After the old knight had left, Earl York asked Sylvia, “Is a brick kiln truly worth you being this happy? I’ve seen the bricks Archer brought back. They are indeed sturdier than the ones we make, but they’re no substitute for stone. No matter how thick, they can’t stop the charge of a Silver Knight.”

Sylvia said, “These bricks can’t be used for fortresses or outer walls, but they can be used to build roads, houses, and plazas. They can also replace the rammed earth layer within city walls, making them stronger. Most importantly is the kiln’s efficiency. It can produce sixty thousand acceptable bricks in twenty days. This means it will consume more firewood and clay, and our lands are full of nothing but shrub-covered mounds.”

Earl York clapped his hands and laughed. “I see! These kilns can turn those mounds into arable plains, and that useless clay will become countless bricks. We could even sell them! Haha, it’s brilliant! This Victor really is the hen that lays golden eggs.”

Sylvia shot Earl York a look. Her gaze was like rippling water, but the Earl felt as if he’d been plunged into an icy cavern. He froze. Earl York knew that having no children had always been a source of pain for Sylvia.

Why did I have to mention hens! Why did I have to mention eggs! Earl York wiped the cold sweat from his brow.

“That is, what I mean is, the blueprints Victor provided don’t seem like something a freeman could design. Where did he get all this?”

Sylvia said faintly, “He stole them from Sophia.”

Victor had written a letter to Sylvia. He told her that he had seen these designs while looking through the old Marquess’s book collection in the Marquess’s estate and had made some improvements of his own. He claimed he had now handed everything over, including blueprints for carriages, a new type of spinning wheel, and the brick kiln village.

Victor’s letter was written with great expertise. After reading it, the York family’s scholar, Anthony, stated with certainty that Victor must have studied these subjects and possessed a great talent for them. Such systematic knowledge was impossible for an ordinary person to fake. Therefore, Sylvia had no choice but to believe that Victor was telling the truth, and that he truly had a talent and interest in this area. But they didn’t know that Victor had his Alchemical auxiliary soldier to help him polish his claims.

“If Sophia had such wonderful things, why didn’t she bring them out sooner?” Earl York asked in confusion.

Sylvia smiled faintly. “Sophia has other cards to play. Victor had none, so he had to show his hand.”

Earl York had a revelation. “These things must have cost the old Marquess a great deal of effort. Sophia must have been planning to use them to turn the tables if she found herself in a bad situation. Heh heh, I didn’t expect us to be the ones to benefit.”

“So, there’s no one protecting Victor now? What if something goes wrong?”

Thinking of his agreement with Sophia, the Earl grew worried again. The agreement between Sophia and the York family was that until Sophia bore a suitable heir, the York family had to guarantee Victor’s safety. Sylvia knew that with Sophia’s standards, she wouldn’t even consider a bloodline of less than a Gold Knight. Therefore, the process would likely take two to three years, which was exactly the amount of time the York family needed to re-establish a self-sufficient system. Thus, the two had hit it off immediately. In truth, this pursuit of noble bloodlines was very common among the Nobles. Of course, Victor had no idea he was about to become an unwitting stepfather.

“When Nicole returns, send her with a few apprentice knights to protect Victor.”

Victor, if I send Nicole to protect you, you won’t refuse, will you? Sylvia smiled faintly.

Chapter 93: Crisis

In the upper camp, a dozen alchemical crows hopped about on an open patch of ground, enjoying a feast of chopped fresh meat and plump wheat grains.

The guards in the camp were used to the sight. By now, everyone knew that these large birds, called Ash Falcons, were pets tamed by their lord, and incredibly useful ones at that.

In Victor’s fief, the guards had already learned the basics of using the Ash Falcons. When a guard patrol went out, they would take an Ash Falcon with them. If they needed to send a message back to the camp, they just had to point the bird in the right direction and make a special gesture, and the Ash Falcon would fly back to camp with the letter. After completing its task, the Ash Falcon would even fly back to the patrol. Its ability to remember directions and scents made it much more flexible than the Red-Eyed Crows, and for that, the Ash Falcons had become the guards’ favorite companions.

Victor scattered the golden wheat grains on the ground, causing the alchemical crows to squabble over them. Watching the vigorous birds, Victor couldn’t help but smile.

He had currently created eight Alchemical militia, nineteen Alchemical auxiliary soldiers, twenty-five alchemical crows, and five Alchemical Warhounds. The funds remaining in the Alchemy Tower amounted to three thousand three hundred fifty Gold Sols. In Victor’s view, the alchemical crows were the most cost-effective alchemical unit. It was these birds that allowed his orders to reach every patrol team within minutes, maintained smooth communication with every village, and helped him monitor the borders of his territory, guarding against unknown threats.

The Alchemical Warhounds, on the other hand, were the least cost-effective unit. Although powerful and intelligent, they had clear limitations. First, their size was too conspicuous. Second, their primary weapons were their eight- to ten-centimeter-long fangs, which were effective against small to medium-sized targets but struggled to deliver a fatal blow to larger ones in a single strike. Canids often ate their prey alive after catching it, and this was precisely the reason. Most critically, each Alchemical Warhound cost eight hundred Gold Sols and had a lifespan of four years, averaging two hundred Gold Sols per year—the most expensive of all alchemical creatures. Therefore, Victor was reluctant to produce any more of them.

After tossing out the last handful of wheat, Victor clapped his hands and walked towards his office. When he entered the room, Lilia and Narsen were gathered around the enormous bearskin, marveling at it. They had been staring at it for a good half an hour.

Seeing Victor enter, Narsen asked excitedly, “My lord, this is unbelievable. A Savage Bear was shot and killed just like that? How did they do it?”

When Victor had called Narsen over to identify the bearskin, Narsen could hardly believe his eyes. Only a Savage Bear could have such a massive hide. He then examined it carefully and found the pelt to be incredibly tough, resistant to blades and swords, confirming that it was indeed the skin of a Savage Bear.

Dire animals were extremely difficult to hunt. They were not only incredibly fast but also possessed outstanding stamina. Most importantly, dire animals were exceptionally perceptive and could avoid most traps. Narsen had to admit that he would be no match for a giant bear like this; an ordinary crossbow couldn’t even pierce its thick hide. Now, this invincible beast had been killed, and even its hide was a trophy.

Narsen knew that Victor had a secret force under his command, and it was these men who had undertaken the patrol mission in the mountains. He never expected that they would not only complete the mission but also hunt a giant Savage Bear.

Victor stroked the glossy, thick bearskin and said casually, “They were just lucky. The bear was mating with a sow when they happened upon it.”

Although Victor was withholding some details, the essence was the same—it had died for a female bear, one way or another.

“Narsen, I don’t know much about the hides of dire animals. How much do you think this pelt would sell for?” Victor asked with a smile.

Narsen stroked the bearskin reluctantly and said, “My lord, hides are relatively cheap goods in the Dodor Kingdom, but a complete Savage Bear hide in such perfect condition would sell for at least ten thousand Gold Sols. After all, pelts from dire animals are extremely rare. As for what price it could fetch in Gambis, I have no idea.”

“That much money?”

Victor was taken aback by the price. Ten thousand Gold Sols was a huge sum. With that money, he could produce at least eight more Alchemical militia.

“You can’t sell it! This bearskin can be made into a suit of leather armor for Victor,” Lilia objected immediately.

Lilia’s thoughtfulness touched Victor. With his current Physique, he could easily wear chainmail, but it would somewhat affect his agility and speed, so Victor still preferred leather armor. A Savage Bear’s hide was the perfect material for crafting top-tier leather armor. However, for Victor, money was the most important thing right now.

Victor shook his head and said, “The bearskin must be sold, because we are about to expand the guard.”

Narsen’s eyes lit up, and he grinned. “My lord, is that true?”

“Victor, we can’t! The fief is short on manpower right now. How can we expand the guard at a time like this?” Lilia said to Victor, ignoring Narsen’s pointed looks.

Victor tapped his fingers gently on the table. Expanding the guard was a decision he had made after careful consideration.

Currently, the internal planning of the fief was on the right track, and a strategic alliance had been formed with the York family. The York family’s spies had also been withdrawn. In return, Victor had provided the York family with several advanced design blueprints. Fortunately, these blueprints were not for sensitive technology, so it didn’t matter if they were leaked. The most important thing for Victor was to protect the secret of the Alchemical Humans. If he allowed the York family’s spies to continue operating in his territory, there was no guarantee that the dull-witted Alchemical Humans wouldn’t be exposed.

Victor had written a letter to Sylvia, fabricating the origin of these technologies and shamelessly pinning the credit on Sophia, all to conceal the existence of the Alchemical Humans. Victor believed Sylvia wouldn’t be suspicious; the contents of the letter offered the most logical explanation, and even if there were any loopholes, Sylvia would fill them in with her own logic. Even the most intelligent person cannot be suspicious of things they don’t know exist, and alchemical creatures were something the York family did not know about.

Now that the thorn in his side had been removed, Victor could confidently and boldly build up his strength. The first step was to recruit more men.

Victor mused for a moment, then said, “I remember Master Edwin saying that without sufficient strength, we cannot manage more subjects. Therefore, if we want to recruit a larger population, we must first expand our armed forces. Besides, our fief is especially large and requires more soldiers to control.”

A hereditary barony was about five thousand square kilometers in area, with a population of around ten thousand. A baron’s professional guard contingent would generally not exceed three hundred men, along with one to three Knights and about ten apprentice knights. Victor’s fief, however, spanned a full twelve thousand square kilometers, with a population of just over two thousand at most. His guard consisted of one hundred men, Narsen who was on par with a Knight, eight Alchemical auxiliary soldiers, and five Alchemical Warhounds. Although Victor had no Knights, his high-tier combat power was no weaker than that of an ordinary baron. The Thorium heavy crossbows gave Victor the capital to challenge Knights; if a heavy crossbow could easily kill a Savage Bear, then killing an ordinary Knight was certainly not a problem. The issue now was that Victor’s fief was too large, and he was also planning to mine refined iron and harvest Oilwood in the mountains far from the center of his territory, which would require even more guards.

Narsen nodded repeatedly, deeply agreeing with his lord’s decision. Linda had complained to him more than once that the magistracy team was too short-staffed and had requested to borrow some of his guards. Narsen had a headache over it; the area his guards needed to patrol was too vast, and he also had to assign men to act as carriage drivers.

Lilia also nodded. “We do need to expand our soldiers, especially for Linda’s magistracy team. Recently, freemen have been continuously migrating to our fief. The freemen camp has already taken in over seventy people. I expect more will come later.”

Victor wasn’t surprised by the influx of freemen. It was the warm Season of Earth, when vegetation was lush and wild vegetables could be found everywhere. It was the prime time for freemen to be on the move.

“Use the method Barol taught you. Separate these newcomers and question them one by one. Do your best to prevent spies from mixing in. Also, don’t let these people participate in the village’s labor. They can only be assigned to hauling and road repair work,” Victor instructed.

Lilia frowned and said, “Victor, if we don’t let these people participate in village work because of spies, we still won’t have enough manpower. Even if we recruit freemen from Black Fortress Town, we can’t eliminate the spy problem.”

“Who said we’re recruiting freemen from Black Fortress Town?” Victor said with a smile. Seeing Lilia and Narsen looking at him with confusion, he added, “Doesn’t Flatlake Village still have over six hundred people?”

Victor certainly understood that recruiting subjects from Black Fortress Town would bring in a large number of spies, and perhaps from more than just the York family. But even if Flatlake Village had spies, there would be very few. Who would pay attention to a freemen camp? Even in Victor’s early days, it was only the York family that had planted a few spies for special reasons.

“My lord, are you preparing to subjugate Flatlake Village?” Narsen asked, his eyes shining brightly.

Victor said coldly, “I’m preparing to summon Bayr one more time. If he still refuses to see me, then I’ll have no choice but to send him to meet the Lord of Radiance.”

Victor’s original plan was to retake Flatlake Village in two years, mainly due to the Chepman family’s interference. Ten days ago, the old Knight of the York family had brazenly killed two of the Chepman family’s spies and expelled another. This was a warning from the York family to Earl Chepman. Victor decided to take advantage of the situation. While Earl Chepman was intimidated, he would bring Flatlake Village into the fold.

Moreover, under the pressure of the Alchemical Warhounds, Flatlake Village could no longer provide the Chepman family with Purple Cane. Victor believed that if he moved on Flatlake Village now, the Chepman family wouldn’t react much. In any case, the Mountain folk camp had already won the Chepman family’s favor.

“My lord, I’ll go back right away to gather the men and draw up a battle plan,” Narsen said excitedly. He didn’t believe for a second that Bayr would answer the summons; the man had already refused the lord’s call multiple times.

“Don’t worry, there won’t be any fierce resistance,” Victor said with full confidence.

Victor planned to use the Alchemical Warhounds to lure Bayr out and then snipe him with the Thorium heavy crossbows. The remaining diehards would be no cause for concern. Without Bayr, Flatlake Village would not resist the lord’s army.

Just as Victor was ambitiously preparing to implement his plan, he was unaware that a terrible crisis was quietly approaching.

——————————————

“My Lady, a total of over one thousand three hundred people, led by the Sacred Warrior Claude, are on their way to Victor’s fief.”

Shax, the magistrate of Black Fortress Town, looked apprehensively at the Countess Sylvia, whose face was as grim as still water.

“So many people. How are they getting supplies on the road?” Sylvia asked coolly, gazing out the window.

Shax replied, “Claude raised a large amount of grain from the Verpan family, along with a dozen horse-drawn carts. The rumors about the work point system were also spread by a steward of the Verpan family.”

Sylvia turned to Earl York and the spy, Archer. “What do you two think?”

“Shax, you idiot!” Earl York cursed. “The Verpan family’s scheme, why didn’t you discover it sooner?”

Shax was at a loss for words. This was the season when freemen were naturally on the move, and most of them were lazy good-for-nothings who couldn’t find work. A flow of dozens, or even a hundred, people wouldn’t have caught Shax’s attention. But an organized migration of over a thousand people prompted him to investigate immediately. However, with the Church’s Sacred Warrior involved, Shax didn’t dare take further action and instead reported it to the Countess at the first opportunity.

“Enough. This isn’t Shax’s fault. I overlooked a fatal flaw in Victor’s work point system: it makes elevating vassals too easy! All the freemen will go crazy for it. This is an overt scheme, and an unsolvable one at that,” Sylvia said with a shake of her head and a sigh.

Sylvia was somewhat annoyed. The vassalage system had taken millennia to gradually form its three-generation promotion model. Because so much time had passed, many lords, including Sylvia, had forgotten why it was three generations and simply followed the tradition habitually. As a result, she too had failed to see the fatal flaw in the work point system, a flaw that had now been exploited by someone with ill intent.

“My Lady, Baron Victor is in big trouble! More freemen will flood into his territory, and with people from the Church among them, many countermeasures will be useless!” Archer said. “The Baron’s rule will collapse!”

“Then what do we do? Will those lowly refugees destroy our Purple Cane?!” Earl York shouted. The thought of countless precious Purple Cane plants being destroyed felt like a knife twisting in his heart.

Sylvia shook her head and said, “Now is not the time to worry about the Purple Cane! Even if Baron Vilpan isn’t a complete fool, he isn’t much better! The one who saw through the weakness of the work point system must be Queen Catherine. The question now is, what will she do next?”

Sylvia continued, “I’m afraid freemen from other fiefs will also catch wind of it and act. More and more freemen will migrate to Victor’s fief. People will starve, riots will break out, and the situation will escalate. As the lord, Victor will be held accountable. Then, the issue of him not having a castle will be brought up for discussion. Next, Victor will be taken back to the Senate for questioning. And just like that, the Queen will have little Victor back under her control.”

“What an impressive and vicious Queen!” Sylvia added with a cold smile.

Earl York sucked in a breath of cold air and asked, wringing his hands, “Then what do we do?”

Back then, Sylvia’s scheme against the Verpan family was meant to deepen the rift between Victor and the Prince’s Faction. She had never expected Catherine’s counter-attack would be so impossible to solve. If Victor had more time, he might have been able to weather this crisis, but as it stood, Victor’s fief was completely incapable of it.

“Notify Blood Fox. Have him and his men infiltrate the freemen. They must not allow those people to storm Victor’s camp. Victor’s safety must be ensured.”

“And then?” Earl York asked, rubbing his hands together. He believed Sylvia would surely be able to solve this problem.

“And then we watch!”

“Ah!”

Sylvia chuckled softly. “Otherwise, what can we do? Forcibly bring those freemen back? Or kill them all? The Church would never allow us to do that!”

Sylvia didn’t care about Catherine’s scheme. Catherine had seized upon Victor’s fatal weakness, but Sylvia had also seized upon Catherine’s. As long as Sylvia was determined to keep Victor in Black Fortress, there was nothing Catherine could do.

“When it comes to playing by rules, I’m no match for you. But I only deal in strength!”

Sylvia gazed out the window. A gardener was tending to her roses. They had all been transplanted from the crystal greenhouse. Some had already withered, while others flourished.

A dark red light swirled in the depths of Sylvia’s sapphire-blue eyes. Under the Countess’s gaze, the withered roses gradually turned to flying ash and scattered in the wind.

“Victor, let me see what you’re made of. If you can’t solve this, I’ll just have to add you to my collection in the greenhouse.”

Sylvia’s eyes were enchanting, and a rosy blush colored her cheeks.

Chapter 94: Response

A farmer sat timidly in the corner. He was a man of forty, with messy hair, a dark-reddened face, and a tall but slightly stooped frame. His gray coarse linen shirt was patched, and it gave off a sour stench.

Barol showed no sign of disgust. He sized up the man before him, inwardly buzzing with excitement.

Barol had been in Victor’s fief for three months. To win Victor’s trust and a position of importance, he had attempted to help the lord root out the fellow spies lurking in the camp. But his opponents were no slouches; after a month of hard work, Barol had come up with nothing. In the end, it was Victor who had to point them out before Barol could finally nab a few of the spies.

Afterward, he was kicked out to a secret camp by Victor and tasked with teaching a dozen or so young “wolf cubs.” Barol was deeply resentful of the lord’s arrangement; he felt he hadn’t shown his true skill during the test. Barol believed his dismal performance was due to his lack of access to the Hill Camp and the absence of any assistants, but he couldn’t refuse the lord’s orders. In truth, as long as the work was related to espionage, Barol didn’t mind. A decades-long career as a spy had become his life’s purpose. In his view, even training these young spies was more meaningful than his past work as a mercenary, like one of the hyenas. At least these children could carry on his legacy.

Just as he was diligently teaching the young spies, Barol received an order: Lord Victor wanted him to go to the freemen camp to screen the newly arrived members. This was a chance for Barol to get back on the front line, an opportunity he was determined to seize and perform well in.

Barol smiled kindly at the man before him. “You don’t need to be nervous. Let’s just have a casual chat.”

Perhaps sensing Barol’s friendly demeanor, the man relaxed, and what followed was indeed a lighthearted conversation.

During their chat, the man was surprised to learn that Barol, like him, was from the Eastern Province. This shared origin brought them closer. They talked about their former homeland, their families, the terrible war, and the hardships of their migration. They even gossiped about some of the nobles of the Eastern Province. The man, whose name was Hans, even smugly corrected a few of Barol’s mistakes, such as mixing up the names of two baronesses from the Eastern Province.

Barol was now certain that this Hans was not a spy, but he had a nagging feeling that something was amiss.

“Why would you bring your wife and child to try and make a living in such a remote place?”

Barol’s suddenly sharp gaze startled Hans. He stammered, “I heard that the lord here is in need of people, and… and that if you work for the lord for free, you can join the work point system and eventually become a vassal.”

Barol’s pupils constricted slightly. He was very familiar with the work point system. It was this system that bound the lord’s subjects together, igniting an immense passion for work that made them willingly endure any hardship. Barol considered it a genius design, and Lord Victor, who had devised it, a master of manipulating human hearts. But how could these freemen, from hundreds of kilometers away, know so much about the work point system?

With this question in mind, Barol questioned the other screened individuals in detail. All the results pointed to one thing: someone was promoting Victor’s fief’s work point system among the freemen!

After questioning the twenty-first freeman, Barol turned to a guard beside him and said, “I must see Lord Victor immediately!”

Meanwhile, in the restricted area of the upper camp, Victor was immersed in immense joy.

Victor carefully caressed the Thorium heavy crossbow in his hands. The crossbow was silver all over, with a faint cyan glow, giving it a look of extreme beauty. From its appearance alone, the prod, stock, and even the string all appeared to be made of metal. But that was not the case. None of the components of this heavy crossbow were pure metal. Except for the string, all other parts were made from Qingjiao wood infused with Thorium. As a result, the Thorium heavy crossbow was much lighter than a military-grade one, whose prod was made of a type of highly elastic, hundred-forged steel.

Victor used a windlass to try and draw the string back into its slot. Even with all his strength, he could only pull it halfway. Victor was not discouraged; on the contrary, he was delighted.

The immense power of a military-grade heavy crossbow, said to be able to threaten a Knight, lay in its string. A typical military-grade heavy crossbow used sinew from a Marsh Dragon-Lizard’s tail for its string. Victor lacked this material. The string of this Thorium heavy crossbow was made from the sinew of a Savage Bear infused with Mithril, and its toughness far surpassed that of an ordinary crossbow string. Consequently, its power had soared.

“Busuo, how many more Thorium heavy crossbows can we make with the remaining sinew?” Victor asked Busuo.

Busuo thought for a moment before replying, “My lord, we should be able to make three more, but we don’t have enough Thorium.”

Victor nodded in satisfaction. Thorium truly had the power to work wonders. The prods of military heavy crossbows were made from hundred-forged steel, a complex material to craft, as only such a metal could withstand the forces of a heavy crossbow. But after infusing Qingjiao wood with Thorium, its elasticity and resilience far surpassed hundred-forged steel, making it perfectly suitable for a heavy crossbow’s prod. Additionally, even ordinary ox sinew infused with Thorium was nearly as good as Dragon-Lizard sinew. It was only because Victor had requested Busuo to create a crossbow that could pierce a defense of 30 Physique points that he had chosen to use the leg sinew of a Savage Bear to craft this Thorium heavy crossbow.

Victor believed that as long as he occupied an advantageous position, with such a Thorium heavy crossbow in hand, he could kill any Ogre within four hundred meters. But the drawback of the Thorium heavy crossbow was its slow reloading time. If Ogres attacked in a group, one heavy crossbow would not be enough to hold them back. Therefore, Victor needed more Thorium heavy crossbows at his disposal. There were already three in the camp, but one could never have too many of these secret weapons.

In fact, Victor also had to be wary of the Chapman family’s Knights. Compared to the massive Ogres, Knights were much more agile. An ordinary crossbowman, even with a heavy crossbow, couldn’t keep up with a Knight’s speed, and Knights could also use shields. But if a Knight were to encounter an extraordinary marksman like Victor, their chances of survival would be slim.

If a Knight really does attack my camp, should I shoot their leg first, or their leg first? Victor pondered this question. He had not forgotten the humiliation of that arrow from the Chapman family.

The bell from outside interrupted Victor’s fantasy. As soon as he stepped out of the restricted area, he saw the solemn faces of Narsen, Lilia, and Barol.

Victor frowned and asked, “What is it? Did you find a spy?”

Narsen and Lilia looked at Barol. Barol stepped forward and said in a grave voice, “No spies have been found yet, but we have uncovered a conspiracy against you, my lord.”

Barol recounted what he had discovered to Victor, concluding, “I investigated twenty-one freemen, and all of them said they came here after hearing rumors about the work point system. This means someone orchestrated all of this from behind the scenes, but we still don’t know who they are or what their objective is.”

Lilia added, “Victor, there are now over a hundred freemen who have drifted into our territory. I’ve already asked; all of them came for our work point system.”

Victor’s expression grew grim as he looked at Narsen. “Have more people been coming in the last two days?”

Narsen nodded. “People come every day. Sometimes a few, sometimes more than ten.”

Victor’s heart sank. A term came to his mind: a mass incident.

“We’re in big trouble! Summon all the village heads! I want to see them in my office!”

Soon, the mid-level leaders of Victor’s fief were gathered together. They had already heard a general outline of the situation, and each wore a grave expression, making the atmosphere in the office heavy.

Victor knocked on the table and said, “You’ve heard what’s happening. Someone is spreading rumors among the freemen, saying that anyone who comes to our territory can join the work point system. As a result, freemen are continuously flooding in our direction. Does anyone have a strategy for dealing with this?”

Several village heads exchanged glances. Moline was the first to speak. “My lord, we must intercept these people. Otherwise, our villagers will clash with them, and the consequences will be unimaginable.”

The village heads were all beneficiaries of the work point system. The recommendation quotas they held were the source of their authority. Now that someone was coming to compete for a place in the system, the village heads had to stand up and protect the interests of their villagers.

“That’s right, we have to block them. We’ll set up checkpoints at the borders of our territory and keep these people out.”

“My lord, we absolutely cannot let these freemen in. They’ll cut down the Purple Cane. We must not let them enter the fief.”

Seeing the village heads in an uproar, Victor could only smile bitterly. These people still didn’t understand the severity of the situation. On Earth, a country had once discovered a gold mine near the North Pole. As a result, countless impoverished people sold all their belongings and braved life-threatening dangers with their families to head north and pan for gold. Not even the harsh, frigid environment could dampen their enthusiasm. In this world, the work point system was more valuable than gold to the freemen. The number of people coming for it would not be in the hundreds or thousands, but likely in the tens of thousands. How could they possibly block so many people?

Victor thought for a moment and asked, “Moline, back when you were migrating, how did you cross the entire kingdom?”

Moline was taken aback. “My lord, when we left our homes, we migrated west under the kingdom’s organization. We were protected by the Church along the way, and supported by the various lords. A small number of us were recruited by local lords, and the rest ended up in the Centaur Hills. The pioneer lords of the Centaur Hills recruited some, and most of the others went to Black Fortress Town to eke out a living. A few small groups formed freemen camps in the wilderness. After all, there are very few monsters in the Centaur Hills, even fewer than in our old lands.”

Victor’s brow furrowed tightly. This was the problem. One was an organized migration, the other a chaotic, disorderly flow. An organized group could be managed; they could be persuaded to return to Black Fortress through communication. But a chaotic flow was almost impossible to communicate with. They would just try every means possible to slip into the territory. As for accommodating these freemen, Victor didn’t even need to consider it. He simply didn’t have the capacity. If he played the saint without considering his own limits, it would only lead to disastrous consequences, possibly even a riot. After all, someone was plotting against him. Who knew how many agitators had been planted among these people?

“We can’t stop them. Even if we block them, they’ll just find another way in.” Victor shook his head and sighed.

Lilia said worriedly, “Then what do we do? If these people enter our territory at will, they’ll definitely destroy our Purple Cane. How about we build a temporary settlement for them on the border, and then organize them to return to Black Fortress Town?”

“We absolutely cannot be the ones to organize them. The more we organize, the harder it will be to get rid of them,” Victor said, shaking his head. He continued, “Let’s do this. You few, return to your villages, calm our people, and organize the militia to guard the villages. Do not let anyone sneak in. Go now!”

After the village heads had left, Victor asked Lilia, “Lilia, how many Gold Sols do we have now?”

“We still have 677 Gold Sols,” Lilia replied without hesitation. When she had nothing else to do, Lilia’s favorite pastime was counting money.

“Arrange for a caravan to go to Black Fortress Town and buy grain. The more, the better.”

“Barol, I need you to go in disguise and infiltrate Black Fortress Town to investigate who is plotting against me from behind the scenes. I will assign two guards to accompany you,” Victor commanded Barol.

“As you command, my lord.” Barol’s eyes gleamed. This was the kind of work he loved.

Victor then turned to Narsen. “Narsen, build several outposts along the border. Warn all freemen attempting to enter the territory that dire wolves are active in the area. Also, give enough dry rations to those willing to return to Black Fortress Town. Don’t bother stopping those who don’t listen to the warnings. Let them in.”

A hint of ruthlessness flashed in Victor’s deep eyes. He was preparing to have his Alchemical Warhounds pose as dire wolves, but this time, it wouldn’t just be a scare tactic—it would be lethal.

Victor was not made of stone. He had been soft before, but the result was that even more people had died because of it. Now, Victor’s way of thinking was becoming more and more like that of a lord. Sitting in the lord’s seat, a force pushed him to make the most rational decisions—a force that came from his vassals and his subjects.

Faced with thousands, even tens of thousands of surging freemen, Victor had no choice. His territory was vast, but his food supply was insufficient. If he allowed these freemen to enter his lands, they would soon face famine due to a lack of food. For the sake of food, these people would surely attack Victor’s villages, and the villagers and guards would inevitably fight back. The result would be a river of blood.

Victor’s plan was simple. He would set up three red lines. The first was the survival line, which was the outposts. Those willing to heed the warning would be in no danger and would even receive supplies for their return journey. The second was the life-and-death line. Freemen who crossed this line would be attacked by the Warhounds. Some would die, and some would turn back. If there were still those who obstinately pushed forward, they would encounter the third line: the death line. Anyone who crossed the death line would only find death.

People would certainly die in this plan, but it would not be a disaster, and since these freemen would die to “dire animals,” the Church could not punish Victor for it. After all, the lord had given a warning and even provided rations for the journey back.

Since the freemen had come because of a rumor, then the rumor of dire wolves would make most of them turn back the way they came. Between becoming a vassal and survival, most people would choose survival.

Victor believed that against a disorderly and chaotic mob of freemen, this cruel plan would definitely be effective. He would use a rumor to fight a rumor!

“My lord, an envoy from Baron Eskri requests an audience. He has something important to report to you,” a guard reported to Victor.

Baron Eskri stood on his castle wall, his face ashen as he watched a large group of freemen, led by the Church’s Sacred Warriors, marching in a long column towards Victor’s fief.

“My dear, are you worried that Baron Victor will block these people at his border?” the beautiful Baroness asked her husband softly.

Baron Eskri sighed. “Yes. If Baron Victor refuses them entry, then these people will cause a huge disruption to our own fief.”

The Baroness chuckled lightly. “Then why didn’t we stop them?”

Baron Eskri’s eyes lit up. He smiled. “Right! These people have the protection of the Church. We can’t stop them, and neither can Baron Victor. Besides, they were heading for Victor’s fief to begin with.”

“Who can Baron Victor blame but himself for coming up with that work point system? He’s shot himself in the foot. I’m afraid this won’t end well for him,” the Baroness said, shaking her head. “But we should make some preparations as well.”

“You mean, prepare some food for these freemen?”

“No! We must seal all our villages.”

Baron Eskri nodded. “More and more people will surely follow. We can’t get dragged into this mess. Also, we must seal our borders and make these freemen go around the edge of our fief.”

Eskri looked again at the imposing Sacred Warriors and couldn’t help but curse, “Have the people from the Church lost their minds? Sending so many people to Victor’s fief! What will they eat? Victor’s fief was only just pioneered a few months ago. There’s no grain at all!”

Chapter 95: Intimidation

The sky was clear for thousands of miles, still and windless. A fiery red sun beat down fiercely upon the earth.

Claude squatted by the river, scooping up a handful of water and splashing it vigorously on his face. The cool water washed away the sweltering heat, making him feel much more comfortable.

The Sacred Warrior Johnny walked over to Claude’s side and asked, “Captain, we’re almost at Victor’s fief. Are we setting out now?”

Seeing that Johnny was wearing only a linen shirt, Claude was a little displeased. He adjusted the leather helmet he had just put back on and said, “Johnny, put on your leather armor.”

Johnny gave an awkward smile. “Captain, it’s just too hot. Let’s wait until evening to put it on.”

Claude glanced around and saw that the other Sacred Warriors had all taken off their leather armor. He said to Johnny with a stern expression, “Don’t forget the instructor’s teachings. As a Sacred Warrior, armor is our life.”

With that, the tall, sturdy Sacred Warrior captain strode toward the carriage parked by the road and shouted, “Sacred Warriors, armor up. We’re preparing to depart!”

Leading a thousand people on foot for hundreds of kilometers in such sweltering weather was exhausting even for Sacred Warriors. Wearing thick leather armor, in particular, made them feel as if they were trapped in an oven. When the convoy had stopped by the river for a short rest, the Sacred Warriors had all shucked off their armor and given themselves a good wash by the riverbank. If not for the many women watching nearby, the young men would have loved nothing more than to jump in for a bath. But Captain Claude had given the order, and though reluctant, the Sacred Warriors donned their leather armor once more.

The command to set out had been given, but nearly an hour of the Sacred Warriors running about and shouting had passed, and the convoy still had not managed to depart. The freemen were just that sluggish and difficult to organize. Claude was growing anxious and cast a subtle glance at Baidi, who stood beside him.

Baidi took the hint. He waved his hand, and dozens of burly men holding clubs emerged from the crowd, beginning to round up the procession with a stream of curses. Before long, everyone had finally gathered by the carriages.

Watching these freemen form up in just twenty short minutes under the threat of clubs, Claude couldn’t help but sigh.

Claude was an outstanding Sacred Warrior trained in a Church monastery, and he always remembered the virtues of a Sacred Warrior: piety, valor, protection, sacrifice, compassion, and justice. When the man named Baidi had requested his help in escorting a group of freemen migrating to Victor’s fief, Claude had agreed without hesitation. What reason did a Sacred Warrior have to refuse protecting a migrating populace? But what Claude hadn’t expected was that more and more freemen would ask to join the group, and in two days, their numbers had swelled to over thirteen hundred. What would so many people eat on the road? Claude was in a bind. Just as he was at his wit’s end, a generous merchant donated a large amount of grain and twenty carriages all at once.

And so, the massive migration party set off under the protection of thirty Sacred Warriors. Along the way, the young Sacred Warriors had cleared paths and driven away wild beasts, earning the respect and affection of everyone, which made them feel very proud. But there was also a discordant note in the group: Baidi, the instigator of this migration. This fellow had gathered a gang of men, controlled the distribution of food, and was merciless with the others, berating and beating them at the slightest provocation. Claude had warned him several times, but to little effect. In the end, at the instigation of another group, the Sacred Warriors had Baidi stripped of his position as chief.

What happened next left Claude deeply perplexed. First, the procession stretched out longer and longer, and its pace grew slower and slower. Then, people began to leave the group and set off on their own. Finally, some freemen were even killed by wild beasts for not heeding commands. Seeing the victims’ bodies, Claude was utterly disheartunud. He realized that the people loved the Sacred Warriors but did not fear them. Without the intimidation of Baidi and his men, these freemen had become lax and disorderly.

At Claude’s subtle suggestion, Baidi retook control of the group, and order was restored to the migrating party. Claude finally understood why the old Sacred Warrior instructor at the monastery had shaken his head with a wry smile when he had been appointed captain. He remembered that on the day before his squad departed, the old instructor had told him that once he got to Black Fortress Town, he should watch more, listen more, learn more, speak less, and make fewer decisions, because they were not yet qualified Sacred Warriors. Claude had thought little of it at the time, but now he understood it deeply.

“Baidi, we couldn’t have done this without you,” Claude said sincerely, even though he didn’t like the man one bit.

Baidi did his best to look deferential and said in a low voice, “My lord, I had no choice on this journey. Someone has to maintain order. I don’t have any prestige, so I can only play the villain.”

“Play the villain?” Claude murmured.

Seeing the Sacred Warrior’s thoughtful expression, Baidi inwardly cursed: I’ve really stepped in it this time!

Baidi was dejected and terrified. He had originally only planned to organize two or three hundred people to go to Victor’s fief and seek a position. He never expected so many people to join them. Initially, he had wanted to refuse them, but the Sacred Warrior Claude disagreed. In the eyes of a Sacred Warrior, all people needed protection. In the end, the group had expanded to thirteen hundred. Baidi knew he had gotten in over his head; no lord would accept over a thousand freemen at once. If the lord found out that Baidi had organized this, he would have to face the lord’s wrath.

Halfway through the journey, Baidi had wanted to break away from the main group with a few companions and rush ahead to Victor’s fief. But Baidi was afraid of dying, so he had no choice but to trudge along slowly with the large party. Later, Claude had asked him to resume organizing the group’s advance. The reason was that the party was moving too slowly, and their food was running out! Baidi was in a predicament with no way out and could only brace himself and reorganize the group. In the end, it took a full twenty-six days before they approached Baron Victor’s fief.

Each with his own thoughts, the two men led the procession slowly forward. As the sun set, a wave of cheers erupted from the front of the convoy, and their pace suddenly quickened. They had arrived at their destination.

Claude climbed a slope and let out a long breath. He knew this leg of the journey was finally coming to an end. Seeing the joyful smiles on the people’s faces, Claude felt that all their hardships had been worth it. The journey had been far from smooth, but they had successfully protected the migrating populace. As soon as he handed these people over to the lord, the heavy burden on his shoulders would be lifted.

The procession continued forward in a relaxed atmosphere, everyone eager to reach the lord’s castle. After walking for about ten kilometers, the group came to a halt.

Just as Claude was wondering what was going on, one of his subordinates ran over and announced, “Captain, the lord’s guards are up ahead! They’ve blocked the way!”

Claude was overjoyed. “Has the lord sent guards to receive us? Baidi, let’s go! Baidi? Where’s Baidi?”

No one answered him. Only then did Claude realize that Baidi had vanished without a trace. Though he didn’t know where Baidi had gone, Claude still had to go and handle the handover with the lord’s guards, so he strode forward.

When Claude reached the front of the column, he saw over a hundred fully armed guards surrounding a young man of noble bearing. He had a tall and well-proportioned figure, a handsome face, and deep eyes like black crystals. His rare black hair accentuated an elegant and ethereal air, and to top it off, his ears were slightly pointed. Claude knew this must be the local lord, Baron Victor Wimbledon.

Claude took a step forward and bowed to Victor. “You must be Baron Wimbledon. I am Claude, the Sacred Warrior captain from Black Fortress Town’s Central Church. May the glory of the Lord of Radiance bless you.”

The young Baron gave Claude a slight nod and said reservedly, “Yes, I am Baron Victor, the lord of this land. So, Captain Claude, can you tell me why the Church has arranged for so many people to come to my fief?”

“My lord Baron, these people were not sent by the Church. They came to your fief of their own accord. We Sacred Warriors are merely escorting them at their request. Since you’ve come to receive them, we’ll be heading back now,” Claude explained to the lord.

But the Baron frowned and said, “I didn’t bring my men to receive them. In fact, I had no idea that such a massive group was migrating to my fief.”

Claude asked, puzzled, “Then what did you bring your men here for, my lord?”

“There are dire wolves active in this area—more than one. They are a threat to my fief, so I brought my guards to eliminate them.”

Claude’s face fell in alarm. Dire wolves were extremely tricky beasts, possessing a keen sense of smell and incredible speed. Although the Sacred Warriors were not afraid of dire wolves, they couldn’t kill these cunning and ferocious monsters either. For ordinary people, however, dire wolves were a nightmare, and there was more than one of them.

Claude composed himself, though he still felt some doubt. The Centaur Hills weren’t a wilderness teeming with monsters, so how could there be a pack of dire wolves? But the guards around the lord all looked tense and uneasy, which didn’t seem like an act.

“My lord, are there really dire wolves here?” Claude asked hesitantly.

Victor replied, displeased, “Captain Claude, are you suggesting I’m lying?”

“No, that’s not what I meant, it’s just…” Claude explained, at a loss.

“I understand what you mean. While there aren’t many monsters in the Centaur Hills, this is, after all, a Pioneer Fief. Ever since the Forest Centaurs migrated away, we humans have been able to come here to open up new lands, but so too will monsters and beastmen migrate here. Just a few months ago, with the help of the York family’s Knights, we exterminated an Ogre. It’s not strange for dire wolves to appear here. You should know, my fief is in the most remote part of the Centaur Hills,” Victor said with a sigh.

Claude quickly said, “My lord, since there are dire wolves about, please take these people to your castle for shelter. Otherwise, they’ll be in danger!”

Victor, however, gave a wry smile. “I’ve only been developing my fief for a few months. The castle is very small; it can’t even house all of my subjects. Where would I find room for so many people?”

Claude’s heart sank. He knew a Baron’s fief castle could only hold about three hundred people, and he had brought thirteen hundred. There was no way they could all fit.

“It will be dark soon, Captain Claude. You should take these people back,” Victor advised him.

Claude looked at the panicked freemen around him, his heart filled with bitterness. Without food, they couldn’t go back even if they wanted to.

“My lord, please help these poor people. They’ve traveled so far to reach your fief. They are tired and hungry. How can you ask them to go back at a time like this?” Claude pleaded.

Victor mulled it over for a moment. “The dire wolves have already blocked the road to the castle. You can’t go any further. You’ll have to find a safe place to make camp first. Fifteen kilometers east of here is the border between Viscount Briat’s Fief and the Centaur Hills. It’s safer there. You can lead your people to camp there for now, until we’ve eliminated the dire wolves.”

“My lord, I am willing to help you eliminate those dire wolves. I hope you can donate some grain. We have no food left,” Claude said heavily.

Victor’s face turned livid as he asked, “Sacred Warrior Claude, you dared to lead so many people here without any food? Do you have any idea that I’ve been developing this land for less than seven months? The crops I planted have not yet been harvested. Where would I get extra food? Are you planning to starve them to death?”

Faced with the lord’s questioning, Claude was speechless. Only now did he realize that he might have made a grave mistake. Although these freemen had lived in hardship in Black Fortress, they could at least receive relief aid from the Church and the protection of their lord. But Victor’s fief, eight hundred kilometers away, had no ability to ensure their survival.

“Captain Claude, it will be dark soon. Take these people to the border to make camp now. I will have a shipment of grain sent over. However, my food supply is limited. You must organize these people to evacuate this dangerous area as soon as possible. In addition, I will send twenty guards to assist you temporarily.”

Victor then added, “My men do not include any Knights, only one hundred guards. Right now, those dire wolves are ravaging my fief, so I cannot stay to keep you company. Please, you must advise these people not to wander about. Otherwise, no one can guarantee their safety.”

Watching the Baron leave with his guards, Claude’s mind was a complete blank. They had clearly arrived at their destination successfully, so why had things turned out like this?

Chapter 96: The Predicament

As dusk fell, the woods along the road looked particularly grim. A light breeze rustled through the trees, making the branches sway like a host of demons dancing wildly. Victor’s guards immediately closed ranks around their lord, leveling their spears and raising their shields, transforming the entire retinue into a giant hedgehog in an instant.

Victor found the guards’ tense reactions rather amusing, and it did much to lift his own gloomy and worried mood.

By Victor’s design, everyone had witnessed the dire wolves—and not just one. Now, it wasn’t just the ordinary guards; even Narsen was on high alert.

If one were to make a movie starring a Sacred Warrior, the hero would be the righteous and radiant Captain Claude, who, after leading a large group of commoners through countless hardships on a journey of over eight hundred kilometers, finally arrived at the land of hope. There, he would meet the lord’s retinue, and the lord would inform him that terrible monsters prowled the fiefdom; if the monsters were not eliminated, the people would never be safe. And so, the great Sacred Warrior Claude, to protect the people, would begin a bloody battle against the cruel and cunning dire beasts. In the end, he would vanquish the monsters, only to discover that the Baron was the true mastermind behind it all. Heh, a movie like that would be a blockbuster! Victor thought sarcastically. Unfortunately, in reality, good intentions often lead to disaster.

Just yesterday, Victor had barely finished making arrangements for the impending refugee tide when he received a letter from Baron Eskri. After reading it, Victor was dumbfounded. In the letter, Eskri informed Victor that a large group of refugees, organized by the Church, was migrating toward his fief. He demanded that Victor handle the matter properly; otherwise, Eskri would seal his borders. The unspoken threat was clear: if Victor blocked the refugees and left them in Eskri’s territory, Eskri would no longer allow Victor’s trade caravans to pass through his lands.

Eskri’s fief was an essential passage for Victor to reach Black Fortress Town. Because Victor had always maintained a relatively amicable relationship with Eskri, his caravans had never been taxed. Therefore, Victor had no choice but to accept these refugees. He was far too dependent on the trade with Black Fortress Town.

Furthermore, the Church’s involvement left Victor both deeply wary and bewildered. The Church had always striven to ensure the survival of the common folk. Why would they organize so many freemen to march to their deaths? The Church couldn’t possibly be unaware that this fief lacked sufficient food. Could it be that the person scheming against him had already bribed the Church?

With these questions in mind, Victor revised his plans. Originally, a few Alchemical Warhounds would have been enough to control the small, scattered groups of refugees. But now, with a large, organized wave flooding in, a mere five Warhounds were no match. Victor acted decisively, leading his guards to intercept them at the border and using the threat of the dire wolves to force them to set up camp in a designated area.

Just as Victor had predicted, the organizers of the refugees did not dare let the people venture deep into the fief and risk their lives. They had no choice but to obediently make camp. But he knew that daring freemen would later try to sneak into the core of Victor’s fief. They would be met by the fangs and claws of the dire wolves. The survivors would flee back to the camp with definitive proof of the danger, and the rest would not dare to make any rash moves.

“My lord, are we really going to provide them with food? That’s over a thousand people! More than we have in our entire fief,” Narsen grumbled to Victor. He could accept feeding a few dozen extra mouths for free, but the thought of supporting so many made him deeply unhappy.

Victor sighed. “We have to feed them. We can’t watch them starve to death. Otherwise, once they storm our villages and camps, our losses will be even greater.”

Victor understood perfectly well that hunger drove people to madness. Only by providing for their basic survival could these refugees be kept in order, and under the threat of the dire animals, they would not dare to act recklessly.

“My lord, I’m afraid we can’t support so many people! Could we perhaps hire the freemen to work for us, like other lords do? After all, we were planning on recruiting more hands anyway,” Narsen suggested in a low voice.

Narsen knew that the fief’s current income was decent, especially with the products from the specialized villages selling well in Black Fortress Town. If more people were put to work, they could certainly absorb over a thousand newcomers. Rather than letting them eat for free, it would be better to hire them and let them support themselves.

Victor shook his head. “It’s not that simple. In truth, land and population are equally important to a lord. But look at how the York family handles freemen. There are over twenty thousand freemen scraping by in Black Fortress Town. The Yorks didn’t just bring them directly into their fief. Instead, they donate grain to the Church, which supports the freemen in the shantytowns of Black Fortress. The York family established three organizations: The Stonemasons, The Cabbages, and the Hyenas. The Stonemasons and The Cabbages are responsible for recruiting workers from among the freemen and selecting the diligent and reliable ones to become their subjects. The lazy and worthless ones can only continue to rely on the Church’s aid. The Hyenas, in turn, maintain order among the freemen and prevent these rejects from causing trouble.”

“The Stonemasons, The Cabbages, and the Hyenas act like a sieve, filtering the freemen again and again, providing the York family with qualified subjects. But since these three are all freemen organizations, no matter what they do, the Church cannot blame the York family for it.”

“The York family’s process of converting freemen is difficult and slow. Those who successfully become subjects cherish their new status and naturally develop a deep sense of loyalty to the York family.”

Victor had thought it all through, a clarity he owed to his life on Earth. In that highly civilized world, every nation was extremely cautious about refugees. Even the most progressive, bleeding-heart nations housed refugees in camps rather than allowing them to enter their cities and villages directly. Even then, the refugees who were selected still brought numerous social problems. The greatest irony was that the most developed nation of all constantly created refugees but never took them in on a large scale. This just went to show how thorny the refugee problem was.

In Victor’s eyes, these incoming freemen were refugees, and with his current capabilities, he simply could not take them in. Forcing the issue would only sink his ship. What’s more, someone had clearly dug a pit for him. If he jumped in like an idiot, he’d really have to have had his head kicked by a donkey.

“Our production system can indeed accommodate these people. But we absolutely must not do it!” Victor said firmly. “They didn’t come here to make a living; they came for the work point system. The moment we start hiring them, even more people will flock here. We cannot give them any illusions!”

Narsen glanced at the surrounding guards, hesitating before letting out a sigh.

Faced with this crisis, Victor not only didn’t abolish the work point system but reaffirmed his commitment to it to everyone. The panicked villagers immediately settled down. At a critical moment, internal stability was paramount; Victor could not afford to cut off his own foundation.

“My lord, I’m afraid more people will join that camp. Our burden will only grow heavier,” Narsen said, his face etched with worry.

Even if he wasn’t particularly sensitive to internal affairs, Narsen understood that a growing number of people living off free food would surely drag the entire fief down. But he was at a loss for what to do. Narsen wanted to use harsh methods to drive these people away, but with a Sacred Warrior watching, it was destined to remain just a thought. Besides, Victor would never agree to it.

A shadow passed over Victor’s eyes. Normally, small groups of refugees would have no choice but to turn back under the threat of the dire wolves. But now, with a Sacred Warrior stirring the pot, they had another option. Victor could imagine more and more freemen gathering in that camp to wait and see, and his burden would grow heavier and heavier. At this juncture, he couldn’t recruit more people for production, and even his plan to retake Flatlake Village was on hold. The deadliest part was that he couldn’t let the Sacred Warrior leave now; otherwise, the thousand-odd refugees would become his burden, one he could never shake off. It was an unsolvable predicament.

“We only have one choice: to drag it out!” Victor sighed.

“Drag it out until they despair. Drag it out until they leave on their own. Drag it out until news of the dire wolves spreads throughout all of Black Fortress Town. Before that, we will only provide a small amount of food—just enough so they don’t starve. We must also frequently dispatch caravans to Black Fortress Town to purchase grain and, at the same time, escort those willing to leave.”

Victor didn’t know if he could afford to wait it out, but he had done all he could. Besides intimidation, aid, blockade, repatriation, and spreading information, he also needed to seek external help. Victor had a reason for making the Sacred Warrior set up camp in that specific area. It was the meeting point of three fiefs: besides Eskri and himself, there was also Viscount Briart. When the number of people gathered there grew beyond what Victor’s fief could bear, the other two lords wouldn’t be able to just sit back and watch. Although they were innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire, being Victor’s neighbors made it their problem too.

Mounted on his warhorse, Victor gazed in the direction of Black Fortress Town. He had a feeling that the key to quelling this storm lay not in his fief, but with the Church. Right now, the first thing he needed to figure out was who was scheming against him. Was this organized migration arranged by the Church? Or was it the personal action of that Sacred Warrior?

————————————————

“Fool! Idiot! Is this a Sacred Warrior? Even an old farmer is more competent than him! Conley, you will take full responsibility for this!” Father Ivan, a man built as sturdily as a warrior, roared at Father Conley in the central church.

Father Conley had been enduring Ivan’s tirade for a full half-hour, not uttering a peep even as he was sprayed with spittle. Claude had caused this massive mess, and he was Claude’s superior. But now, with Ivan telling him to take all the blame, Conley immediately jumped up.

“As the supervising Father of the commoners’ district church, you didn’t know about a migration involving more than thirteen hundred people? Such a huge commotion, and you knew nothing? And now that there’s a problem, you come running to me to shift all the responsibility onto my head? I’m telling you, don’t even think about it!”

Ivan was at a loss for words. He had indeed come to pass the buck, but this was a hard buck to pass. Ivan was utterly fed up with Claude. The Sacred Warrior was constantly bothering him with trivial matters, and eventually, Ivan had started refusing his requests for an audience, not wanting to hear anything about him. He never expected that in just two days, Claude would lead over a thousand people out of Black Fortress Town.

“Claude is your subordinate! Not mine! He acted on his own, but you can’t escape your connection to this!” Ivan shouted, stamping his foot.

“We are all brothers of the same Church. What’s the point of shifting blame like this? We should be thinking about how to solve the problem!” Father Conley said, his face a mask of worry. “It’s so strange. The movement of freemen is normal. But they always flow from barren lands to fertile ones. Who flows to a remote place? And so many at once? Why on earth did they do it?”

Conley’s conciliatory tone calmed Ivan down. He snorted, “What else could it be for? It was all for that work point system.”

With that, Ivan explained what he had learned to Conley.

Conley listened, dumbfounded. After a long pause, he finally said, “Baron Victor is in serious trouble! He’s going to be drowned by freemen!”

“It’s not just him who’s in trouble! We’re in trouble! And those foolish freemen are in the most trouble of all!” Ivan said irritably.

Victor’s fief didn’t have that much food. If a large number of freemen starved to death, as supervising Fathers of the Radiant Church, they would be hard-pressed to evade responsibility.

“Something’s not right! Where did Claude get the grain? That’s thirteen hundred people! You can’t feed them just by digging up wild vegetables!” Father Conley said with a frown, clearly sensing a conspiracy afoot.

“That’s why Claude is a fool! He was used and didn’t even know it! A merchant donated a large amount of supplies directly to him, and he just set off in high spirits. He completely forgot the Church’s regulations that only a Father can accept donations,” Ivan said resentfully. In truth, this rule was already a rule in name only. The Radiant Knights had long begun accepting donations, and sizable ones at that.

The two priests looked at each other sheepishly, a sense of shared misery between them. It was obvious Claude had been worried they would obstruct him, which was why he had quietly led the group away, catching them completely off guard.

“What do we do now?” Conley asked. He had to admit that when it came to handling the freemen, he was no match for Ivan.

Ivan paced back and forth a few times before saying, “Actually, you know this as well as I do. Our Church isn’t afraid of freemen migrating. It’s like a flock of sheep grazing—wherever the flock goes, we clergy just have to follow. But right now, none of us can get away. There are even more people here in Black Fortress Town!”

“If we send grain over now, it will only cause more people to gather there. Unless the Bishop dispatches a priest to Victor’s fief, we really can’t send any provisions.”

Conley was silent for a moment before asking, “Can you get those freemen to come back?”

“What do you think?”

Ivan shot Conley a cold look. The Radiant Church’s stance had always been to protect the people, not to coerce them. But without coercive measures, how could they get those frenzied freemen to leave Victor’s fief?

“I’ll be blunt! The only way to salvage our losses is to build a church in Victor’s fief! I know you have a good relationship with the Bishop. It’s up to you now,” Ivan said, his eyes boring into Conley.

Conley smiled bitterly. “I can only try. To be honest, I don’t have any confidence at all. You might not know this, but there’s a shortage of personnel everywhere right now. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have let a reckless youth like Claude become the Sacred Warrior Captain.”

Conley then lowered his voice. “The messenger who came here last time was a friend of mine. He told me that most of the Sacred Warriors and priests have been reassigned to the north.”

Ivan sucked in a sharp breath. Was the sky about to change?

Chapter 97: A Bandit’s Insight

The moon cast a hazy glow as insects chirped in the grass. Claude sat by the bonfire, staring blankly at the distant woods. It was a silent, dark place, teeming with terrifying monsters.

He and his small team of Sacred Warriors had been stuck in this crude camp for over twenty days. In that time, some had left, but many more had arrived. What was once a camp of a little over a thousand people now held more than two thousand.

Claude was bewildered. He had always abided by the teachings of the Sacred Warriors, striving to help all those in need. Yet the result of his efforts was to plunge these people into an even more desperate life. The camp lacked food and clothing; there weren’t even enough shacks to go around. Many simply slept on the open ground. Claude had to admit that, compared to this place, the shantytowns of Black Fortress Town were better by far.

Recently, the camp’s food rations had been reduced again. Each person received only a small piece of black bread and a single ground-potato. The vast majority went hungry. Claude knew the Baron had already done his best. After all, consuming eight hundred loaves of black bread every day was no small burden for a young pioneering lord. Claude had heard from the lord’s guards that all of his subjects combined numbered less than twelve hundred. Now, those twelve hundred people had to feed not only themselves but also the two thousand-plus people in the camp. It was as if one person was supporting three.

Claude knew that even more people would flock here. If they couldn’t solve the problem soon, the consequences would be catastrophic.

He also knew that the dire wolves were no longer the main issue. The real challenge was persuading the Baron to abolish the work point system. Otherwise, freemen would continue to pour in, and the lord simply couldn’t support so many people.

Just as Claude was pondering how to convince the lord, the sound of approaching footsteps reached his ears.

“Captain Claude, so this is where you were. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

The familiar voice made Claude lower the mace in his hand. “Glyn, you’re not asleep yet?” he asked.

A young man sat down cross-legged beside Claude and chuckled. “Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d come have a chat with you.”

He then leaned closer and whispered, “I caught a fat ground-rat during the day. I’ve been hiding it until now. Let’s roast it, we can split it.”

The young man skillfully skewered the plump ground-rat on a branch and held it over the bonfire, turning it constantly. A touch of warmth flickered in Claude’s eyes.

Glyn was somewhat thin and pale, with a head of fiery red hair and a pair of bright, lively eyes. He always wore a friendly smile, looking both energetic and likable. He had joined the camp ten days ago and had now taken Baidi’s place as Claude’s helper.

Baidi was dead. Not long after arriving, he had secretly taken a few men to try and venture deeper into the fief. They had run into dire wolves, and Baidi had become the first to die by their fangs. Subsequently, many other bold individuals had tried to enter the fief in groups. Some died, some fled back, and others went missing. At the very least, the lord’s guards confirmed that none of them had reached their settlement.

The news of the dire wolves was confirmed—and there were no fewer than three of them. From then on, no one dared to leave the camp. The unwilling freemen began to plead with the guards to escort them to the lord’s castle, only to be met with heartless refusals. So they turned to the Sacred Warriors with their pleas, and Claude committed another folly: he actually agreed. The result was a riot in the camp, with people fighting over the limited spots for the journey. The Sacred Warriors were helpless in the face of the chaos, and the lord’s guards watched on coldly. Fortunately, Glyn had led a group of men to quell the riot with clubs and whips, and because of that, he had replaced Baidi, bringing a semblance of order to the camp.

Under the flame’s caress, the one-and-a-half-kilogram ground-rat gradually turned golden-brown. A few drops of fat dripped into the bonfire, sizzling and popping. A tempting aroma filled the air, and Claude couldn’t help but swallow.

Glyn produced a small knife and deftly cut the ground-rat in two, handing the smaller portion to Claude. Claude took the fragrant meat and, after a moment’s hesitation, took a savage bite. He felt that this unseasoned roasted ground-rat was unbelievably delicious.

“Glyn, would you believe it? I haven’t eaten meat in over half a year,” Claude said with emotion after swallowing a mouthful of tender, crispy ground-rat.

Glyn blinked, asking in confusion, “Is life as a Sacred Warrior that difficult?”

“Not at all. We Sacred Warriors eat quite well. It’s just that after we arrived in Black Fortress Town, we gave our meat to the children in the shantytowns. You know, those little ones are still growing. They need more nutrition,” Claude said with a smile.

Glyn pursed his lips and tore off a large chunk of meat. “You truly are a noble man,” he mumbled.

“I’m just doing what I should. We Sacred Warriors grow up in the Monastery, and the monks always taught us that it is the common people who support us, so we must have compassion for them. Only then can we avoid losing ourselves to our great power and eventually falling into depravity like the Devils,” Claude sighed.

Glyn nodded solemnly. “Your tutor is truly a wise elder. Power is like a double-edged sword; it can harm others as well as oneself.”

A flicker of interest appeared in Claude’s eyes. “Glyn, you don’t sound like an ignorant freeman. What did you do before? Why come to such a remote place?”

“Actually, I’m the son of a noble. Would you believe me?” Glyn said with a grin.

“I don’t believe you!” Claude shook his head.

Anyone with a noble bloodline would never end up as a freeman. Even if no family was willing to take them in, wealthy vassals would be overjoyed to have them as a son-in-law. Claude knew at least that much.

“You saw right through me. I do wish I were a noble’s son, but sadly, I’m just the youngest son of a vassal. I once served a noble lord as an attendant, but before I could make a name for myself, my lord was thrown into prison by the Emperor. So, I’ve been a freeman ever since. Now, I thought I’d come here to try my luck. I just didn’t expect so many people,” Glyn said with a wry smile.

Claude was silent for a moment before saying resentfully, “Damn this war. I really don’t understand why these lords don’t use their military might to develop new territories instead of fighting amongst themselves.”

The two fell into a silence, with only the crackling of the bonfire filling the air.

After a short while, Claude spoke again. “Glyn, you served a noble. Help me think. How can I convince Baron Victor to abolish the work point system?”

“Why?” Glyn asked with a frown.

“I know you also want to join the work point system and become a vassal within a few years. But can’t you see? This fief is still very undeveloped. There are still dire wolves on the loose, and the Baron can’t even eliminate them, forced to turtle up in his castle with his subjects. If this drags on, it will lead to disaster,” Claude said in a low voice.

“I’ve also thought about leading everyone through the dire wolves’ territory into the heart of Victor’s fief. But what happens then? The fief doesn’t have enough fortifications to protect over two thousand people. Should we just let them live scattered outside? And then have a few people dragged from their shacks every day as the dire wolves’ dinner? Fine, let’s say we manage to wipe out the wolves. The Baron still can’t feed this many people! There’s barely any farmland here.”

“Glyn, the root of the problem isn’t the dire wolves, it’s the Baron’s work point system. As long as it exists, people will keep coming here to try their luck. Maybe three thousand, maybe four thousand, maybe even more. This is a disaster in the making. Therefore, only by abolishing the work point system can we prevent it.”

Claude spoke with righteous conviction, his eyes shining brightly. He had been pondering this for days and had now thought it through completely.

“On what grounds?”

Glyn’s flat tone stunned Claude. He couldn’t understand how someone as clever as Glyn could still be so stubbornly fixated on joining the work point system. On what grounds? Wasn’t averting a disaster reason enough?

“On what grounds should you destroy the hopes of some for the sake of others? Are they wrong? Are the lord’s subjects and guards wrong for supporting him?”

A sharp glint appeared in Glyn’s calm gaze, making Claude shudder. Faced with this interrogation, he was momentarily speechless.

“Because we can’t have it, no one should have it, and then all will be peaceful? Just like last time, when you wanted to escort a group to the Baron’s castle, what happened? Because some people couldn’t go, they rioted, so in the end, no one went! If you don’t have something yourself, you don’t let others have it either. Isn’t that ridiculous?! If some people have children and others don’t, what then? Kill the children so everyone is equal? You would hang a person like that, wouldn’t you?”

Glyn’s questions struck Claude’s heart like a mace empowered by the Sacred Sword Art, shattering his established beliefs.

“You… you really think that?” Claude stammered, his mind a complete mess.

“Yes, Captain Claude, that is what I think.” Glyn nodded solemnly. “Look, as the lord, Victor has the right to issue administrative orders in his own fief. His subjects and guards are duty-bound to support their lord. And we came here from thousands of miles away to pursue a brighter future, which was also our own choice. None of this is wrong.”

“So are the dire wolves wrong? But those beasts are too fast. The moment they dart into the Purple Cane Forest, we can’t find them,” Claude said incoherently.

Glyn nearly choked. But for the sake of his mission, he still explained, “Of course, you can’t catch the dire wolves. Victor’s fief is vast and the terrain is complex. There are also many wild boars here, making it an ideal habitat for them. But that’s not the point. Didn’t you say it yourself? The dire wolves aren’t the root of the problem! The problem is you.”

“Me? On me?” Claude’s mouth fell open as he pointed a greasy finger at his own nose in disbelief.

“Yes, the problem is you! You took on a responsibility you shouldn’t have. You gave these people hope they shouldn’t have.”

“But I protected them! I am a Sacred Warrior, that is my duty.”

“Your duty is not to protect these people so they can come here and fight over jobs. Look at the people in this camp. Take me, for example. I came from a background as an attendant. I don’t know how to farm and have no craft. I couldn’t find work in Black Fortress Town, so I thought I’d try my luck here. Now look at the others. Anyone who was willing to work hard wouldn’t have ended up in this state.”

“These people aren’t stupid. They understand the work point system can’t satisfy everyone, so they’re waiting here, not only wanting to join it but also trying to prevent others from joining. That’s why they rioted when you tried to lead a group away. If you hadn’t established this camp to protect them, these people would have returned to Black Fortress Town long ago, and the number of people gathering here wouldn’t have grown so large. Captain Claude, no one can be responsible for another’s choices. They must be responsible for themselves.”

“Why are you still here, then?” Claude asked hoarsely.

“I’m just like them, hoping to try my luck. You asked me, so I told you my opinion. It’s as simple as that,” Glyn said nonchalantly, chewing on his roasted ground-rat.

“Then what should I do? I can’t just stand by and watch a disaster happen,” Claude murmured.

“You should resolutely go back, taking with you those who are willing to return. Then, tell those who want to come try their luck what things are really like here. That is the best choice. The longer you drag this out, the more severe the consequences will be,” Glyn suggested, his eyes glinting.

“Even without this camp, people will still come.”

“Yes, perhaps they’ll succeed in joining the work point system, perhaps they’ll end up in a wolf’s belly, or perhaps they’ll escape. But they won’t linger here. Everyone should be responsible for themselves, shouldn’t they?” Glyn shrugged.

“If I lead people back, how many will be willing to go with me? And how do we solve the food problem?” Claude asked with a frown. He was convinced.

“Life here is not easy. The moment you announce a return to Black Fortress Town, many will certainly go with you. As for the food, you can leave that to the lord to solve. Baron Victor will surely find a way.”

Glyn had heard that My Lady had given Victor a full fifty thousand Gold Sol. The young Baron was definitely rich; a little bit of food would be no problem at all.

“You’re right! I’ll go speak to the Baron’s guards about this right now.”

Claude turned to leave, but stopped and said to Glyn sincerely, “Thank you, my friend.”

Watching the Sacred Warrior disappear from view, Glyn’s expression grew complicated. He muttered in a voice too low to be heard, “What a sincere fool.”

Glyn was none other than Blood Fox, the chief of the Bloodfox Bandit Group. He had infiltrated the freemen under the orders of Earl York. To complete the task given by the York family, Glyn had to gain control of this camp, and the Sacred Warrior had become an obstacle. So, he had tried every means possible to make Claude scram. And now, he had succeeded.

“The little Baron’s luck is really something else. I rob him blind, and My Lady gives him fifty thousand Gold Sol and he even becomes her little paramour. Freemen come to storm his fief, and dire wolves just happen to block the road. And now I’m about to take control of this camp for him. He’s not taking any risks at all. He’s probably sleeping with that pretty girl right now. Sigh, my life is so miserable. There’s nothing here, I can only chew on rats,” Glyn thought with a tinge of jealousy.

A gust of wind blew past, and a dark cloud obscured the bright moon. It was about to rain.

Chapter 98: Power, Responsibility, and Capability

The rain came down in sheets, a dense curtain that blotted out the sky and sun, leaving the world a vast, white blur.

Victor stood calmly on the balcony, gazing at the hazy rain, listening to the rushing sound of water on the tiles, and feeling the cool, damp air. Inwardly, however, his thoughts were a tangled mess.

Victor’s subjects would see this sudden downpour as a gift from the heavens. They would be at home, chatting happily with family and friends, enjoying candied fruit and pastries while admiring the rare sight of the rain. After this storm, the weather would surely turn much cooler. By now, all the villages and camps in Victor’s fief had houses made of brick and tile—even the former temporary settlement for the freemen was no exception—and the villages’ excellent drainage systems meant no one had to worry about flooding.

But what about the freemen gathered in the northeast of his territory? They didn’t even have enough shelters, and the simple shacks they did have could not withstand the onslaught of a storm like this. At this very moment, the more than two thousand freemen were likely shivering in the torrential, flood-like rain.

“Victor.”

Lilia approached him gracefully, a fine, white linen dress clinging to her exquisite figure, revealing its beautiful curves. The damp wind lifted the girl’s chestnut hair, and her bright face was filled with worry.

“Are you still worrying about those refugees?” Lilia leaned into Victor’s embrace and asked softly.

Wrapping his arm around the girl’s slender waist, Victor nodded. “How could I not be? We are human, after all, not beasts.”

“As you ordered, my brother took fifty guards to deliver twenty covered carriages and seven hundred straw rain capes.” Lilia reached up to caress Victor’s cheek, which was already damp from the misty rain.

“After this rain stops, we’ll also need to send some meat, earthroot grass, and raw sugar. We’ll make some hot soup to warm them up and prevent them from getting sick.”

Victor smiled and patted Lilia’s small hand. The girl’s affectionate and comforting gesture made him feel less alone.

“Victor, why are you being so kind to them? We’ve already given so much. I mean, do we really have this responsibility to them?” Lilia asked, a hint of unwillingness in her voice.

As more and more freemen poured into the camp, Lilia felt the pressure mounting. The fief was not only providing food for free, but now it had to supply them with meat and medicinal herbs. This made the girl increasingly resentful of these uninvited freemen; in fact, this sentiment had already spread throughout the entire populace.

Victor sighed and said, “Whether we like it or not, we do have a responsibility to them. Because we have the ability.”

Seeing the confusion in Lilia’s eyes, Victor continued, “Ability forms responsibility, and responsibility, in turn, forms rights. The relationship is one of mutual reinforcement and promotion. Look at our soldiers. A few months ago, they were just farmers who didn’t even know how to use a sword. But their bodies were strong, and Narsen believed they had the ability, so he selected them to become guards. Thus, they gained the responsibility of defending the fief. For the sake of this responsibility, they trained diligently, and in just a few short months, they’ve become qualified soldiers. After becoming soldiers, they no longer have to perform manual labor and immediately receive ten mu of land, becoming vassals. These are their rights.”

“Now look at your brother. He is the most powerful warrior in the fief, so he became the Guard Captain, responsible for the safety of the entire land and in command of all the soldiers. Isn’t it true that the greater the ability, the greater the responsibility, and the greater the responsibility, the greater the power?”

Lilia nodded thoughtfully, then pouted. “You almost got me all confused. The guards and my brother are our own people. What do those freemen have to do with us?”

Victor shook his head with a chuckle. “Lilia, you now have more power than your brother. You are one of the leaders of this fief. How can you still look at things with your old perspective?”

“As a leader, you need to look at ability, responsibility, and rights in reverse. As the lord, I possess the highest rights in this fief and control all its affairs. Therefore, I bear the greatest responsibility for it. If I am to shoulder the responsibility of a lord, I must have the corresponding ability. That’s why I’ve been working so hard to increase the fief’s strength, all so that I can truly control it.”

“The freemen pouring into our lands are also subjects of the Kingdom of Gambia. As a lord of the kingdom, I must give them a certain amount of help within my capabilities. If I were unwilling to bear this responsibility and chose to stand by and watch, I would likely either be imprisoned by the Inquisition or impeached by the Senate, ultimately losing my rights as a lord.”

“Victor, you know so much,” Lilia said, her eyes sparkling with adoration as she looked at him.

Being worshipped by his own woman filled Victor with a sense of pride.

He had learned the principles of power, responsibility, and ability back in middle school. “When you’re struggling, you focus on yourself; when you prosper, you work for the good of all.” The wisdom in that saying was no joke. He hadn’t truly understood it at the time, only gaining a hazy grasp of it after he started working. When he was at a small courier company, his boss had clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Young Zhang, you’re doing great. I’m going to give you some more responsibility. The deliveries for those other two buildings are yours now.” At the time, he had only felt joy, while his colleagues felt only jealousy and insisted on making him treat them to a meal. The principle in that was the recognition of ability, the shouldering of responsibility, and the expansion of rights.

After transmigrating to this world and becoming a lord, Victor’s understanding of power, responsibility, and ability had deepened. Ultimately, if he wanted to hold on to his rights, he had to bear the responsibilities of a lord. Therefore, he did everything in his power to increase his fief’s strength. However, his most profound realization came during his recent trip to Black Fortress Town to seek help from Sylvia, and the discussion they had.

Thinking of the Prince’s Faction eyeing him like a tiger, a shadow fell over Victor’s eyes. He said to Lilia solemnly, “Lilia, you are now my legal partner and a leader of this fief. You can no longer view matters with your old perspective. You must think from the standpoint of the entire fief. I need your help.”

The fief’s greatest weakness was its lack of advisors. When Victor encountered a problem, he had no one to discuss it with. The middle echelon of his territory consisted of either mercenaries or farmers. Lilia, on the other hand, was young and highly malleable. She was more knowledgeable than a farmer and sharp as a tack. She picked up the things Victor taught her quickly and managed the fief in an orderly fashion. Victor had high hopes for Lilia; he hoped she could broaden her horizons and become his qualified assistant.

“Victor, I will definitely work hard,” Lilia nodded firmly, then asked, “The Sacred Warriors are preparing to take their people back to Black Fortress Town. Should we take over that camp? You once said that even a bad order is better than no order at all.”

At the mention of the Sacred Warriors, Victor’s stomach churned with anger. He had pieced together the whole story over the past few days. Barol had told him that Baron Vilpan was the one pulling the strings, aiming to overwhelm Victor and strip him of his lordship. As for that Sacred Warrior, his actions were purely his own; the two priests in Black Fortress Town knew nothing about it.

But it was precisely this brainless Sacred Warrior who had brought Victor immense trouble. The Prince’s Faction’s methods were indeed vicious, but they hadn’t expected dire wolves to appear in Victor’s fief. Once news of the dire wolves spread, scattered freemen wouldn’t dare to travel to his territory, and their scheme would have failed. Now, the Sacred Warrior had given these people hope. They were still counting on the lord and the Sacred Warriors to join forces to eliminate the dire wolves, and they remained in that camp. Their numbers had already approached three thousand.

As long as Victor sat in the lord’s seat, he had to manage these people, whether he wanted to or not. Otherwise, he would surely be impeached by the Prince’s Faction. Unless he declared independence and was subsequently crushed into dust by the kingdom’s Swift Dragon Knights.

Watching the number of freemen increase by the day, a helpless Victor had rushed to Black Fortress Town. The first person he visited was Father Conley. After a long-winded and evasive conversation, the priest stated that as soon as the population of Victor’s fief exceeded six thousand, the Church would immediately build a small chapel there to help Victor manage and aid the people. Before that, the Church would not provide any aid to his fief.

The moment he heard the Church wanted to enter his territory to proselytize, Victor became anxious. He said he didn’t need the Church to provide grain, only to take the people away. Conley flatly refused Victor’s request and even demanded that Victor settle the people properly and prevent any major casualties, otherwise the Church’s Inquisition would have to intervene.

Victor finally understood. All along, the lord did the dirty work while the Church only did good deeds. The lord wanted power, the Church wanted faith—a tacit understanding had formed between the two. The priest was unwilling to provide grain to prevent a population explosion, because they didn’t have the shepherds to harvest the faith yet. To do otherwise would be a dereliction of duty for both Conley and Ivan.

Victor had said, “You don’t need to provide the relief aid yourselves. Just give me the grain, and I’ll do it. That way the population won’t gather so quickly.”

Conley’s response: “In your dreams. When using the Church’s grain to help freemen, the freemen must know that it is a gift from the Lord of Radiance. This is an ironclad rule.”

Victor: “I’m a Pioneer Lord. I’m applying for Aid.”

Conley: “We have already provided it.”

Victor: “Where?”

Conley: “A full squad of Sacred Warriors is helping you fight the dire wolf packs.”

Victor: “…Son of a bitch.”

Victor then rushed to Rose Manor for a close and seamless, in-depth exchange with Sylvia, in which he asked her to control the flow of freemen. Sylvia, however, told him that apart from the first thirteen hundred, not a single freeman from Black Fortress Town had migrated to his fief. She also informed Victor that the commotion caused by his work point system was far greater than he had imagined. Freemen from other territories all wanted to go to Victor’s fief to try their luck. If it weren’t for the timely wolf infestation, his fief would have likely been overwhelmed long ago.

Victor pleaded with Sylvia for aid to help him through this crisis. Sylvia told him, in a voice as gentle as water, that not raising the price of grain was the greatest aid she could offer.

Victor finally came to a realization. Even if he were impeached, Sylvia would suffer no losses, because his successor would inevitably be of the Wimbledon bloodline and would be unable to overturn the Divine Notarization.

A dejected Victor returned to his fief, unaware that Sylvia had been working hard behind the scenes to ensure his safety. She now wanted to enjoy her paramour’s performance; it was her entertainment, but also a trial for Victor. Even if Victor failed, this powerful woman would take him under her wing. As the leader of a great family, gathering talented people was a necessity, and Sylvia was becoming more and more interested in Victor.

Victor extended an arm into the continuous curtain of rain, feeling the water wash over his skin. He said, “We cannot step in to take over that camp. Taking over the camp means taking in the freemen, and we don’t have the ability to accept over two thousand people at once. Lilia, remember this: never take on a responsibility beyond your capabilities. It will only harm yourself and others.”

“Then what do we do? Just let them remain in chaos?” Lilia asked, puzzled.

“We can learn from how other lords deal with waves of refugees,” Victor said.

“Freemen and subjects are actually separated by a very thin line. Most lords will convert freemen within their means, though the process is slow. A barony might have a population of around ten thousand, with three thousand subjects, a few hundred vassals, and the rest living as freemen.”

“If a large number of refugees suddenly pour in, exceeding the fief’s capacity, the lord will provide aid within his means while simultaneously absorbing useful individuals. He’ll also use certain methods to control the refugees. But a lord will rarely send his own guards to control a camp. Instead, he’ll choose bandits. The bandits will use crude methods to lead the remaining population out of the fief. This is why many fiefs have bandits.” Sylvia had taught Victor many of a lord’s tricks, and now Victor was passing them on to Lilia, one by one.

“Lilia, why do you think lords provide aid to, absorb, and covertly control refugees?”

Lilia tilted her head and thought for a moment before saying, “For order. Aiding refugees can prevent unrest, absorbing useful people is to strengthen oneself, and covertly controlling them is for an orderly dispersal.”

Victor laughed heartily. “Lilia, you’ve already grasped the very core of a lord’s governance. That’s right, it’s order. We establish order, we maintain order, and anyone who challenges our order is our enemy. So, from now on, try to think about problems from this perspective.”

Lilia’s beautiful eyes shone brightly, as if Victor had opened a new door for her.

“Actually, the Sacred Warriors withdrawing from the camp is a good thing. With them out of the way, we can covertly control that freemen camp,” Victor said.

“How can we control it covertly? We don’t have any bandits here, do we?” Lilia asked in confusion. She knew that some lords kept bandits on their payroll, but they had only been developing their fief for a short time and had no control over any.

“Who says we don’t? Not only do we have bandits, but we can also pull in some ‘aid’,” Victor said with a cunning smile. He was planning to drag the Chapman family into this pit.

You dug up my mithril and stole my purple cane. It’s time you paid the price.

Chapter 99: Catherine’s Next Move

Viscount Briat’s Fief bordered the northeastern corner of Victor’s fief. It was a long, narrow territory, encompassing a full eight thousand square kilometers. The Briart family had ruled this land for over three hundred years with few wars. The fief’s populace was simple and honest, and its population was large. By the time the current Viscount Briart had inherited his title, the fief was home to more than fifty thousand people.

Sixty kilometers east of the border with Victor’s fief lay the Briart family’s Wildwillow City. The family had managed this city for over two hundred years, and after several renovations and expansions, it had become a famous city renowned for its beautiful scenery and excellent facilities.

Outside Wildwillow City, a small river flowed, and green willows provided ample shade, making it a perfect spot to escape the summer heat. Deep within a five-kilometer stretch of willow forest, the Briart family had built a noble manor. Because the corners of the manor’s walls were covered in ivy that could climb them, people came to call it Ivy Manor.

In the courtyard of Ivy Manor, a robust little boy was practicing with a short wooden sword against a guard. The boy looked to be no more than five or six years old, an age of tender innocence. It was less like sword practice and more like play; his short sword waved and danced wildly, yet it sent the tall, strong guard stumbling back and forth, making the little fellow burst into laughter.

Seeing his son’s happy and excited expression, Viscount Orbes Briart also wore a smile. Though the little one’s swordsmanship was atrocious, the point of practicing at this age wasn’t the technique, but to cultivate an interest and confidence in martial prowess.

“Orbes, come try the coffee I made,” a beautiful woman in a pale yellow long dress called out sweetly to the Viscount.

Orbes turned and walked toward his wife. As he took the silver cup, he took the opportunity to squeeze her fine, fair, and smooth hand, earning a charming eyeroll in return.

“Judy, did you add milk to this?” Orbes asked with a smile after tasting the coffee.

The Viscountess chuckled. “I did. Besides Snow Sugar, I added three spoonfuls of milk to this cup. How is it, my Great Knight?”

Coffee had become the most popular beverage in noble circles. This was thanks to its affinity for the fire element, as well as its price of eighty Gold Sols per pound and its scarcity. How to prepare coffee was a topic of eager discussion among noble ladies: whether to use a silver cup, a gold cup, or a horn cup; whether to add fruit juice or milk, and in what proportion. And of course, coffee was never without the noble Snow Sugar. Of the eighty-Gold-Sol price, ten Gold Sols were for purchasing Snow Sugar—and only half a pound of it at that.

The Nobles had acknowledged the high status of Snow Sugar. The seasoning had but one characteristic: pure sweetness. Unfortunately, Snow Sugar was simply not sold on the open market, and its Black Market price far exceeded that of honey.

“It’s fragrant and smooth. Very delicious,” Orbes said, never stingy with compliments for his wife.

Judy returned her husband’s half-teasing, half-flattering words with a bewitching smile.

The Viscountess was as beautiful as a flower and had a gentle temperament, and Orbes doted on her. Judy, in turn, was very satisfied with her husband. Not only was Orbes a viscount with his own fief, but he was also a Silver-rank Great Knight. They had been married for seven years, and their bond had only grown deeper.

As the viscount and his wife sipped their coffee and watched their beloved son play, enjoying this warm moment, an attendant approached.

“My lord, Lord Austin is here.”

The Viscount gave his wife an apologetic smile and stood up to head inside. In the living room, he saw his half-brother, Austin Briart.

“Brother, good day.” Austin placed a hand over his chest and bowed to Viscount Briart. Although they were brothers, the etiquette between lord and vassal could not be forgotten.

“What is it? What did Her Majesty the Queen’s secret emissary say?” The Viscount waved his hand, signaling for his brother to dispense with the formalities.

“Brother, Her Majesty the Queen said that as long as we pledge our allegiance to her, she will carve out a piece of territory for us from the Centaur Hills once Prince Edward inherits the throne. It will be about the size of a barony,” Austin said in a low, yet somewhat excited, voice.

Viscount Briart’s brow furrowed. As a neutral lord, he had no desire to be drawn into the struggle for the throne while the situation was still unclear. For this very reason, he had not met the Queen’s secret emissary himself, instead having Austin receive him.

“Brother, joining Her Majesty the Queen is our best choice, and our only choice,” Austin said, taking the initiative when he saw his brother’s hesitation.

Viscount Briart gave his brother a surprised look and asked, “You think Grand Duke Williams has no chance of winning?”

“The Grand Duke and the Queen are about equal in strength, but the kingdom has its laws. For an uncle to covet his nephew’s right of succession goes against noble tradition and will be criticized. Most importantly, even if we were to side with the Grand Duke, given our family’s strength, we wouldn’t be valued by him. He would never risk offending the York family to fight for territory in the Centaur Hills for us,” Austin replied.

Viscount Briart said nothing. He understood Austin’s feelings. The family had been at peace for hundreds of years, and the land had long since been enfeoffed. Now, Austin was just one step away from becoming a Silver-rank knight, yet he only had a single manor, five thousand mu of land, and a lordship title to his name. Naturally, he was unwilling to accept this. Yet, for a mere barony, how could Viscount Briart put the family’s future on the gambling table?

“The risk is too great. The Grand Duke is not as simple as you think. After the late king fell in battle, it was the Grand Duke who stabilized the kingdom. On the surface, he traded the Centaur Hills for the York family’s support, putting the kingdom in a pincer between east and west. But one cannot deny that it was this very choice that saved the kingdom from immediate collapse.”

“If he hadn’t won over the York family back then, knowing their style, they would have certainly pledged allegiance to Neowist. After all, it was Aerie Fortress that targeted the York family first. If the York family had really submitted to His Majesty the Emperor, what would have become of Gambis?”

“During the late king’s reign, everyone underestimated Grand Duke Williams. After the king’s death, the intelligence the Grand Duke displayed was astonishing. Now that he is vying for the throne, he must be very confident. We need to wait and see,” Viscount Briart said, shaking his head with a sigh.

“Brother, I understand everything you’re saying. I’m not doing this purely for myself, but our Briart family no longer has the luxury of being neutral,” Austin said earnestly. “Our fief has too many people. If we can’t expand our territory this time, in another fifty years, the family will have no choice but to wage war against the neighboring lords. No matter how that war goes, we will lose. Because we didn’t choose a side at the critical moment, whoever inherits the throne will punish us according to the laws of the kingdom. Right now, if we choose to side with the Grand Duke, he won’t demand land in the Centaur Hills from the York family for us. If we choose Her Majesty the Queen, she has already promised us a barony.”

Viscount Briart knew his brother was speaking the truth. After a century of peaceful development, the family’s population had reached the fief’s capacity. Although there were many freemen in the territory, most were descendants of subjects and vassals, not refugees from elsewhere. As their lord, he simply couldn’t expel them.

Originally, when the kingdom was selling land in the Centaur Hills to the lords, Briart had also considered buying a piece of territory. But the Centaur Hills had become a battlefield for the Prince’s Faction and the Grand Duke’s Faction. None of the neutral lords were willing to take a side prematurely, so the Briart family ultimately gave up on the idea. Only the Eskri family had purchased a territory in the Centaur Hills. They were direct vassals of Marquess Golan, and both the Grand Duke and the Queen had to give the old Marquess face.

Feeling agitated, Viscount Briart picked up his cup, intending to take a sip of water, but he suddenly remembered the coffee Judy had prepared for him. An idea surfaced in his mind.

“Did the emissary say which piece of territory the Queen plans to give us?” the Viscount asked in a low voice.

“It’s Baron Wimbledon’s fief. The emissary said that the Wimbledon fief is far larger than a typical barony. According to kingdom law, at least three castles must be built to maintain the security of such a territory. Her Majesty the Queen is preparing to push the Senate to re-examine the legality of Baron Victor’s territorial rights.”

Viscount Briart’s mind raced. After a moment of thought, he understood the Queen’s intent. The real reason the Queen wanted to win him over was to deal with Baron Victor. She was well aware of the Briart family’s predicament, and their fief just so happened to border Victor’s territory. So, she had made him an offer he couldn’t refuse: if you want the land, you must first cooperate with her to impeach Victor, Baron Wimbledon.

Having figured this out, Briart made his decision.

“You’re right, but we don’t need to fly our banner and overtly side with Her Majesty the Queen. There is a way to show her our goodwill without attracting the Grand Duke’s attention, and it can also alleviate the pressure on our fief. We can make our final choice after the situation becomes clearer.”

“What way?”

“Baron Wimbledon’s work point system is causing a huge stir among the freemen. We can help spread the word for him. Besides, the Baron setting up a freemen camp on our border shows his ill intentions.”

“It seems that camp was set up by the Church. I heard there are also dire wolves active there. I’m afraid the freemen won’t dare venture deep into Victor’s fief. I hope they don’t end up pouring into our territory, will they?” Austin said, full of worry.

“It is precisely because of that, that we must send men to infiltrate the camp. As long as our people can control that camp, we can organize the freemen to rush into Baron Wimbledon’s fief. How many people can a few dire wolves possibly eat?”

Chapter 100: The Approaching Danger

In the eastern part of Victor’s fief, at the Chapman family’s camp, five carriages loaded with flour and salt were parked outside.

“Captain Gar, the goods are loaded. A total of twenty thousand pounds of flour, one thousand pounds of salt, ten sets of chainmail, ten shields, twenty short spears, forty strong bows, and one thousand arrows. Please take inventory,” a guard reported to Gar.

Gar nodded, and a few of his soldiers immediately went forward to start counting the goods.

Gar was a Guard Captain for the Chapman family, tasked with escorting this valuable shipment to the Mountain folk camp.

Ever since Flatlake Village had been unable to supply the Chapman family with Purple Cane, the family had turned its attention to the newly established Mountain folk camp. Though the camp only had eighty or so people, they could provide a steady supply of Purple Cane in exchange for some daily necessities. The Chapman family began to shift its support to this Mountain folk camp, and Gar was the contact person stationed there.

A few days ago, Bansen, the leader of the Mountain folk camp, had approached Gar with a request. Bansen was planning to lead his people north to take over the freemen camp, and he hoped the Chapman family would support his operation by providing him with a shipment of supplies.

Gar had scoffed at Bansen’s ambition and foolishness, asking three questions: Why should the Chapman family help him? How did he plan to cross the dire wolves’ territory? And how could he possibly control so many freemen?

Unexpectedly, Bansen had come prepared. He told Gar he wanted to gather people and establish a village similar to Flatlake Village. The more people he had, the more Purple Cane he could provide. Crossing the territory was simple, too: as long as the party was fully armed and maintained a tight formation, the dire wolves wouldn’t risk an attack. All the Mountain folk knew the dire wolves’ nature. As for controlling the freemen, Bansen planned to use a combination of military deterrence and the allure of food. For that, he needed the Chapman family to provide three months’ worth of rations for eight hundred people.

Gar had to admit Bansen’s plan was thorough and highly feasible, but he didn’t think the family would agree to it. The cost was simply too high—the ten sets of weapons and armor alone were worth eight hundred Gold Sols.

What Gar hadn’t expected was that Sir Berna, the Knight in charge of the mines, had actually agreed and quickly gathered a shipment of supplies.

“Gar. Once the goods are counted, get going. It looks like it’s about to rain again,” the bear-like Berna said, walking over to give Gar his orders.

Gar hastily bowed to Berna. “My lord, sending out so many supplies… won’t you get into trouble?”

As one of Berna’s soldiers, Gar was worried that Sir Berna would be held accountable by the Earl. In his view, trading thousands of Gold Sols’ worth of supplies for Purple Cane was a losing deal, not to mention the continuous supply of grain they would have to provide Bansen later on.

“Enough nonsense! Get on your way,” Berna barked, glaring.

Gar didn’t dare say another word and led the convoy toward the Mountain folk camp. Once he was gone, Berna stroked his chin and muttered to himself, “I can’t believe I was played by Baron Victor.”

When the freemen started flooding into Victor’s fief, the Chapman family was the most anxious, second only to Victor himself. They were happily mining Mithril and collecting Purple Cane here, but if Victor were to fall, these good days would likely come to an end. The Chapman family did not want to see Baron Victor impeached. Just as they were discussing their options, Berna relayed the Mountain folk camp’s request back to the family.

Upon receiving this news, Earl Chapman immediately understood. The Mountain folk camp must have been secretly set up by Baron Victor. That was why they had so abruptly requested to take over the freemen camp, even disregarding the threat of the dire wolves. At this critical juncture, however, Earl Chapman couldn’t afford to be picky. He studied Victor’s plan and saw its great potential, marveling at Victor’s good luck.

Normally, a wolf plague in a fief was an utterly wretched affair for a lord, but in Victor’s fief, it was the exact opposite. The wolves had made the freemen hesitate. Things might have ended there, but then the Sacred Warrior had to build a camp to take in the migrating freemen. In that case, secretly controlling the freemen camp became the best option. Once the camp was under their control, there were many moves they could make. At the very least, they could incite some of the freemen to drive away the newcomers. With dire wolves blocking the road from the outside and the camp driving them away from the inside, the refugees would see they had no chance and would naturally leave Victor’s fief, spreading the word as they went. The turmoil would gradually die down.

Earl Chapman made the decision on the spot: he would support Victor. He knew that quelling this turmoil might take a long time and would require a large amount of grain, but compared to the priceless Mithril, what was a little grain?

It was only after receiving a message from the Earl that Berna learned the Mountain folk camp was secretly controlled by Victor. And Victor, for his part, was still unaware that his connection to the Mountain folk camp had been discovered by Earl Chapman, but he was certain the Chapman family would not stand by and watch him fall.

Just as the Countess, Viscount Briart, and Victor were all attempting to control the freemen’s refugee camp, a great disaster was silently approaching the Centaur Hills.

————————————————————

The Great Marsh lay to the west of the Centaur Hills, separated from the Pioneer Fief by an endless range of hills and mountains. The marsh was vast and boundless, most of it covered in a type of reed called sawtooth grass. Hidden among these reeds were countless small islands lush with vegetation like peach-heart wood, ferns, and oil palms. These plants blended seamlessly with the sawtooth grass, making it impossible for an ordinary person to distinguish between solid islands and the treacherous, danger-filled swamp.

The Great Marsh was also home to all sorts of strange and bizarre creatures. Among them were a number of extraordinarily ferocious monsters, such as Serpent Fiends, Dragon-Lizards, Wyverns, six-legged crocodiles, Giant Pythons, and shadow spiders—and, of course, the legendary Hydra Lizard.

Gulu carefully pushed aside a patch of sawtooth grass. Its dark yellow, vertical pupils scanned the stretch of water ahead. It flicked its forked tongue but caught no scent of danger. Yet Gulu knew that a massive Giant Python was hidden in these waters.

Gulu decided to take a detour. It was just an ordinary Lizardman, not one of the tribe’s Warriors. The Giant Python in the water was not something it could handle.

Gulu the Lizardman made a wide circle, avoiding the Giant Python’s territory, and continued toward its destination: a small island.

The Great Marsh was fraught with peril, a death trap at every turn. Even a native of the swamp like Gulu had to be extremely cautious. On its journey, it had already witnessed three brutal hunts. After dodging a pair of foraging Wyverns, Gulu finally saw the island. It breathed a sigh of relief. It was safe now.

The Lizardman climbed onto the island and saw a thatched hut. Beside the hut, a frail, small human girl was squatting on the ground, teasing two horned frogs. She was Gulu’s friend, Beldina.

Seeing Gulu, the little girl smiled, dropped the reed stalk in her hand, and ran toward the Lizardman on her small bare feet. The two stupid, greedy horned frogs immediately hopped after her, trying to nip at the little girl’s heels.

“Bel,” Gulu hissed, greeting the girl. Although Bel couldn’t understand the Lizardman’s language, it didn’t matter. Gulu knew Bel never spoke; she only smiled and played with it. So Gulu smiled back, coiling its tail into a ball—the Lizardman way of expressing joy.

Bel pulled the two fat horned frogs off her heels and handed them to Gulu. Gulu shoved the two stupid frogs directly into its bloody maw, which was full of sharp teeth, and swallowed them in a few gulps. After traveling for two days, it was indeed a bit hungry.

After Gulu finished its two little snacks, Bel tried to pull it away to play, but Gulu shook its head. It had risked its life to get here, and it wasn’t to play with Bel.

“Imoson the Wizard! Imoson the Wizard! It is I, Gulu! I have something important to tell you and Bel,” Gulu hissed toward the thatched hut.

“Gulu, hasn’t your tribe already migrated? What are you still doing here?”

A deep, sonorous voice came from the thatched hut. It spoke in a human tongue Gulu couldn’t understand, yet Gulu somehow knew its meaning. It was strange, yet it felt natural. The shamans of its tribe had told Gulu this was a form of sorcery, and the human who mastered it was a fearsome wizard.

“Imoson the Wizard, take Bel and flee! Flee to the area near our tribe and hide. The insect tide is coming!” Gulu screeched.

The door to the thatched hut was pushed open, and a tall man walked out. His graying hair and beard were matted, and while his frame was large, he was very thin. His haggard face was lined with deep wrinkles, but his eyes were as clear and bright as a young man’s.

“Gulu, what exactly has happened? What is this insect tide?” Imoson asked the Lizardman gravely.

“Imoson the Wizard, the insect tide is a demon! They are endless, and they drown all life that dares to resist them. When they appear, even the spawn of Taivalyr must hide in the deep pools. They appear once every fifteen years, and this is the year they will emerge,” Gulu replied hastily.

Imoson frowned deeply. He had been living in seclusion in the Great Marsh with his daughter Beldina for a full nine years and had never encountered this so-called insect tide. But Gulu was a Lizardman he had rescued from an Ogre tribe. They had always been on excellent terms, and for it to risk its life to come here and warn him, it couldn’t be a lie.

“Gulu, you say the insect tide is endless, that it appears every fifteen years, and that not even the Hydra Lizard dares to fight it. If that’s the case, how is there still any life in the Great Marsh?” Imoson asked.

“Imoson the Wizard, the insect tide has been appearing in the Great Marsh for four hundred years. Each time they rampage, countless Forest Centaur warriors enter the Great Marsh to fight them. Our Half-dragon tribe has always defended our home with the help of our centaur brothers. This year, the centaurs are not coming back. Without the help of the centaur Warriors, we can only migrate,” Gulu hissed.

“And migrating will let you escape the insect tide?” Imoson asked again.

“The insect tide spreads, killing all creatures that resist it. As long as you don’t resist, the insect tide doesn’t attack,” Gulu said.

Imoson found this laughable. He shook his head and chuckled. “Then why migrate at all? Just don’t fight them. What kind of absurd creature is this?”

“Imoson the Wizard, they don’t attack, but they’ll trample you into paste,” Gulu explained, flicking its tongue.

Imoson’s old face flushed red, but thankfully, his thick hair and beard completely hid it. In truth, Gulu saw it clearly but assumed the wizard’s blush was some kind of terrifying sorcery, which only made it feel more awe.

“Ahem. Bel, let’s move. We’ll move to a place closer to Gulu, so it can come and play with you more often,” Imoson said to his daughter after a dry cough.

Bel still didn’t speak, only nodding to her father. Imoson sighed. His daughter, Beldina, was mute and had never spoken a single word. She also had no human playmates. She was a lonely child, and a Lizardman like Gulu was her only friend.

Imoson stomped a foot on the ground. Gulu clearly felt a tremor from beneath the earth. The vibration grew stronger, the soil churned, and monsters began to burrow up from the ground, one after another. These beasts were like lions or tigers, with flat heads, sharp claws, and wide mouths full of razor-sharp teeth. They dragged rat-like tails behind them. If Victor were here, he would have been shocked to discover they were all Aberrant Rats.

More than a dozen Aberrant Rats lined up in a neat row, like a troop of well-trained soldiers. Imoson walked to the edge of the island and shouted, “Philip, we’re leaving! Come on out!”

A massive shadow appeared in the water. The water churned, and a monster surfaced. This was a colossal beast, seventeen meters long and over three meters tall. Its jet-black scales shone with a metallic luster. Its thick, eight-meter-long tail was covered in spines, and its pillar-like limbs ended in vicious claws. And on its neck grew two massive, savage heads. With a snort, they exhaled a great plume of mist that fell like rain. This was an Aberrant Two-headed Dragon-Lizard.

Gulu lowered its head in respect to the great beast. It was this creature that had led dozens of Aberrant Rats to attack the Ogre camp, saving Gulu from the roasting spit. In the tongue of the Lizardmen, it had a name: Itugos, the great beast of the water.

The great beast lay down submissively before Imoson. Imoson and Beldina climbed onto the back of the two-headed Dragon-Lizard, and he turned to yell at Gulu, “What are you waiting for? Get up here!”

As Gulu scrambled onto the Dragon-Lizard’s back, the dozen or so Aberrant Rats also leaped aboard. The Dragon-Lizard turned one of its heads, and its thick tail swept the thatched hut into splinters. It threw its heads back with a roar and charged into the water, kicking up a massive wave.

“Gulu, you lead the way,” Imoson commanded, standing spiritedly on one of the beast’s heads.

“Imoson the Wizard, if we go in this direction, we can reach our tribe in a day. But there’s a Giant Python on the way… we should probably go around it.”

“Go around? Why would we go around? We’re taking the straight path!”

Chapter 101: The Insect Tide Attacks

The sky was blanketed in dark clouds, and a dense curtain of rain fell without cease. This season was the rainiest time of the year, with a downpour every two or three days.

“This damned weather.”

Gis cursed, wiping the rain from his face. This sort of weather was the absolute worst for a sentry. The sheet of rain blotted out the sky and sun, and he couldn’t see anything two or three hundred meters away. Gis, draped in a heavy straw raincoat, climbed the beacon tower. When he saw the pile of firewood soaked through by the rain, he could only shake his head with a bitter smile. The wood was completely unlightable. After the rain passed, they would have to dismantle it and replace it all with fresh, dry wood. For an outpost of only three men, this was no small amount of work.

Gis was a soldier under Victor’s command. Along with two of his comrades, he had been ordered by Captain Narsen to man this outpost and perform reconnaissance. Their main job was to monitor the entrance to the Great Marsh.

Ever since failing to find any trace of the Ogres in the western mountains, Victor had become convinced the Ogre tribe must be in the Great Marsh, for the Old Ogre couldn’t have appeared from thin air. Thus, Victor ordered Narsen to build a guard post at the entrance to the Great Marsh, complete with a beacon tower, and station three soldiers there. To ensure their safety, Victor had specially equipped them with three alchemical crows. The moment the crows warned them of danger, they were to light the beacon and immediately retreat on horseback.

The waterlogged straw raincoat was terribly heavy and very uncomfortable to wear. Gis decided to head back to the shack to get out of the rain for a bit. The moment he entered, he heard Lev shout at him, “Gis, you slacker! It’s your turn on watch.”

Ignoring Lev’s teasing, Gis smiled apologetically at a middle-aged soldier. “Chief, the rain is too heavy outside. I can’t see a thing. The Ash Falcons are watching the marsh entrance anyway. I thought I’d come in to get out of the rain and go back out when it stops.”

“You rest for a bit. I’ll go have a look,” the middle-aged soldier, Matthew, said as he threw on a straw raincoat and pushed the door open to step outside.

Outside, the whoosh of the rain was deafening. Matthew couldn’t help but shiver. He cursed under his breath, “I’ve only had it easy for half a year, and now a little rain is enough to scare me?” Tightening his straw raincoat, he plunged resolutely into the downpour and headed for the watchtower.

Matthew was a veteran of the War Bear Mercenaries. He had been leading two new recruits on this watch duty for a month now. Matthew knew very well that no matter how bad the weather, the watch post could not be left unmanned. Because if monsters really did attack, they themselves would be the first who needed to run for their lives.

The entrance to the Great Marsh was a huge slope, and the watchtower was situated on a mound two kilometers from it. On a normal day, one could see any movement at the entrance with perfect clarity, but now, even when Matthew strained his eyes, he could only make out the scenery for about four hundred meters. Just as Gis had said, even if he stood watch, he couldn’t see what was happening below.

Matthew hesitated, wondering if he should go back into the shack to shelter from the rain. Just then, an Ash Falcon cut through the rain, flying unsteadily toward him. It landed by his side and let out a shrill cry.

“You poor thing, you can’t fly when you’re this soaked, can you? Come on, I’ll take you inside to dry your feathers and warm you by the fire.”

Glad to have found an excuse to get out of the rain, Matthew picked up the Ash Falcon, intending to return to the shack. But the bird was not appreciative, instead crying out even more fiercely.

The Ash Falcon’s abnormal behavior caught Matthew’s attention. He lunged to the edge of the watchtower, eyes wide as he stared intently at the entrance to the marsh. All he could see was a vast expanse of white, but a heavy feeling settled in his heart.

The ground began to vibrate faintly. Matthew’s expression changed. He quickly dropped to the ground, pressing his ear against the floor of the watch post. The tremors were suddenly distinct and audible, like the thundering of ten thousand galloping horses.

“Enemy attack!”

Matthew kicked open the door to the shack and burst in, dripping with rain. Gis and Lev jumped in fright, crying out, “Chief!?”

“Enemy attack! Burn the shack! Retreat!” Matthew grabbed a wooden bucket and began splashing fire oil everywhere inside the shack. When he saw the two rookies standing frozen in a daze, he roared, “Light it, now!”

The shack was wet on the outside but dry on the inside. Doused with fire oil, it quickly burst into flames, sending up plumes of thick smoke no different from a beacon signal. However, the next signal post in the chain couldn’t see their situation at all.

The three men lit the shack, then grabbed their spears and short swords and rushed out of the inferno, only to gasp in shock. Countless dark brown monsters had already surrounded them. These creatures stood 1.7 meters tall and had six limbs like centaurs, with four on the ground. They were covered in dark brown carapaces, and their heads were like magnified ant heads. The monsters looked like enlarged, humanoid ants.

Everyone reacts differently in a desperate situation. Some are cowardly, some are brave. Matthew was the brave kind. He was a mercenary and a soldier. With no path of retreat, he chose to embrace a soldier’s fate.

“Kill!”

He sank into his stance, twisted his waist, and his spear shot out straight as a rod, the sharp tip tearing through the rain as it sped toward the nearest monster. Matthew’s thrust was the result of a thousand trials. He had once used his spear to pierce a Sasan soldier clad in chainmail. Though he was no longer young, this thrust was still unstoppable.

Green liquid splattered as the spear pierced the monster’s neck. The ant-man fell limply to the ground. A thrill of excitement went through Matthew—these terrifying monsters were not invincible!

However, the other monsters were even more excited than Matthew. The death of their companion made them let out joyous hisses. The hissing rose and fell in waves, carrying all the way back into the Great Marsh. An even greater roar echoed back from the marsh, as endless ant-men answered their kin. A look of despair appeared on Matthew’s face. The ant-men swarmed forward, instantly drowning the veteran soldier.

Witnessing Matthew being torn to shreds by the ant-men, Gis and Lev’s faces turned ashen white. They couldn’t seem to lift the weapons in their hands, and could only kneel in the downpour, trembling uncontrollably.

When the swarm parted, there was nothing left on the ground but bloodstains, scraps of leather armor, and a single spear. An exceptionally large ant-man walked over, picked up Matthew’s spear, and swung it a few times with practiced ease. The fine steel spear spun faster and faster in its grasp, becoming a blur of silver light that let out a terrifying hum.

The ant-man snapped its hand back, and the silver light instantly vanished. The fine steel spear pointed at Gis’s forehead. Seeing no reaction from Gis, the ant-man moved its head close to Gis’s face. Its enormous, pincer-like mandibles opened wide, and it let out a ferocious hiss. In the ant-man’s pair of compound eyes, Gis saw countless reflections of himself, kneeling in the muddy water with a terrified expression. His mind was a complete blank. Just a few months ago, he had been an honest farmer. Faced with such a horrifying monster, he had absolutely no courage to resist.

The ant-man’s head slowly pulled away from Gis’s sight. It shouldered the spear and began to walk forward on its four legs. The other ant-men followed, walking right past Gis and Lev, who were still paralyzed in the mud. It was only after the last ant-man had disappeared into the rain that the two realized the monsters hadn’t killed them.

Gis and Lev helped each other up from the ground, gasping for breath. Tears mixed with rainwater streamed freely down their faces. They were just thankful to be alive.

But then the earth began to tremble. To their despair, the two farmers saw a black torrent gushing from the direction of the Great Marsh’s entrance—an endless army of ant-men. One, two, ten, a hundred ant-men walked past Gis and Lev, paying them no mind. But before they could feel a renewed sense of relief, one ant-man walked straight into them, knocking them to the ground. Countless limbs trampled over their bodies until they were ground into a pulp of flesh and mud.

The boundless tide of ant-men spread across the Centaur Hills like a black flood. This was a land they had never set foot on before. Today, they had arrived. They grew through battle, plundered through slaughter, and gave back through death. This was the mission of the ant-men.

Thick smoke billowed from the shack. Even in the rain, the fire oil stubbornly burned the wood. Hordes of ant-men trampled past the shack, unaware that a black crow was hiding in a corner, its soaking wet feathers gradually drying in the heat of the embers.

Ten hours passed, and the ant-men army began to thin. The rain had lessened. The alchemical crow hopped out from its hiding spot. Taking advantage of the ant-men’s inattention, it swiftly snatched up an eyeball—whose, it did not know—and swallowed it whole. This bloody eyeball would give it enough strength to fly back to Hill Camp.

With a caw, the alchemical crow shot into the sky like an arrow. It had to race ahead of the ant-man army to deliver its warning to Victor. This, too, was the alchemical crow’s mission.

Chapter 102: Defense

“This is some nice rain.”

Victor leaned back contentedly in his chair, picking up the coffee from the small round table and taking a gentle sip. Just a few days ago, he had been endlessly troubled by the fief’s predicament, but now he was sitting relaxed on his balcony, enjoying the view of the rain.

Just as Victor had predicted, Earl Chapman had indeed extended a helping hand. The first batch of supplies had already arrived safely in Victor’s possession. With the support of these resources, the pressure on him lessened considerably. So, Victor could appreciate the rainy scenery while sorting through the gains and losses from this refugee turmoil.

This incident had been orchestrated by the Prince’s Faction, who intended to use the wave of refugees to crush Victor’s fief. Victor wasn’t surprised by their motives; from the moment he had compromised with the York family, he had anticipated that the Prince’s Faction would retaliate against him. What did surprise him was that they had waited so long to make their move.

Nevertheless, Victor had to admit that the Prince’s Faction had struck him right where it hurt most. They had targeted two critical weaknesses: first, that his fief was still very young, and second, they had exploited the psychology of the freemen. This move was both vicious and cruel. The Prince’s Faction couldn’t have been unaware that many would die in this turmoil, but that was precisely their goal—to use the lives of the freemen to prove that Victor was not a qualified lord. Unfortunately for them, they hadn’t expected Victor’s fief to have dire wolves. No freeman would be willing to migrate to a territory infested with monsters. Once that news spread, the whole affair would die down.

Now, with the Chapman family’s support, Victor began to calculate how to profit from this incident.

Victor planned to imitate the York family’s method of hiring and converting freemen. As soon as the Sacred Warrior left, he would have Bansen take his men and control the freemen camp. He would use the formidable Mountain folk to intimidate the disobedient while placing the authority to distribute food into Bansen’s hands. At the same time, he would have Narsen endorse Bansen, making the freemen feel that Bansen had deep connections with the fief’s real power brokers.

With this three-pronged approach, Victor was confident he could hold these freemen firmly in his grasp. Afterward, he could hire them through Bansen to work for the fief. Those who performed well could even be absorbed as subjects, which would solve the fief’s labor shortage.

To ensure Bansen could take over the camp smoothly, Victor had specifically ordered Narsen to lead fifty guards to help the Sacred Warrior maintain order and relocate people, as well as to back Bansen up. In addition, Barol and his students had already infiltrated the freemen, serving as a first internship for the young spies.

“Victor, I just received a message from an Ash Falcon. Under my brother’s cover, Bansen has led the Mountain folk into the camp.” Lilia pushed the door open and walked in, sitting down gracefully opposite Victor.

“Oh? Does the message say when the Sacred Warrior will lead his group out of the camp?” Victor said with a smile.

Sacred Warrior Claude’s rash actions had cost Victor dearly; the small nest egg he had painstakingly saved was almost completely consumed by that camp. As soon as this god of plagues left, Victor would move to take control of the camp.

“Over six hundred people are willing to return to Black Fortress Town with the Sacred Warrior. But with this heavy rain these past few days, the Sacred Warrior has been busy with disaster relief in the camp. They’ll set out as soon as the rain lets up,” Lilia said, pouting. The thought of having to prepare another large shipment of grain for the Sacred Warrior filled her with displeasure.

Victor shook his head and chuckled. Lilia had told him that in the past, mercenaries loved traveling with clergy on missions, but now it was the exact opposite. This was probably a case of one’s position dictates one’s perspective.

“By the way, another group of freemen has joined the camp, about three hundred or so. The camp has over three thousand people now,” Lilia said, her face fraught with worry.

Victor frowned. “The sooner the Sacred Warrior leaves, the better. Without him presiding over the camp, the refugees won’t be so eager to flock over.”

Originally, Victor had intended to let the Sacred Warrior manage the camp so the Church could help him share the burden. But after a conversation with Father Conley, his attitude did a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn.

In the eyes of the freemen, the Church was undoubtedly a beacon of light and justice. But in the eyes of the Church, the freemen were a flock of sheep to be shepherded. Now, the sheepdogs had herded a portion of the flock to Victor’s fief, and the two shepherds were content to be bystanders. As far as they were concerned, the more sheep they attracted, the better. The more wool they could shear, the higher their status within the Church would be. Perhaps they could even land the position of Bishop. Father Conley had played his cards well, but Victor was about to fly into a rage. Besides Black Fortress Town, no other pioneer fief had a church!

“Thankfully we have the Chapman family’s aid this time. I never expected that the York family wouldn’t support us, and instead our neighbors who were stealing our resources would lend a hand,” Lilia remarked with emotion. As the one in charge of the fief’s finances, the daily expenses made her heart pound with fear. Feeding several thousand people was no joke, even when rations had been cut to the bare minimum.

“Earl Chapman is only doing this so he can keep stealing our resources,” Victor sneered. “It’s not that the York family hasn’t supported us. The fact that the freemen from Black Fortress Town haven’t continued to pour in shows that they’ve taken measures. And they are still keeping their grain supplies open to us.”

Most of the newly joined freemen had flowed in from Bryat’s fief. This was also why Father Conley was happy to see it happen. Although the priest in Bryat’s fief was also a brother in the Church, nothing made a shepherd happier than seeing another’s sheep wander into his own pen. The thought of Father Conley planning to station a priest in his territory gave Victor a headache.

After a moment of silence, Victor continued, “The York family has probably prepared other measures in secret. I suspect they’ve already sent people to infiltrate that camp. As soon as the Sacred Warrior leaves, they’ll likely move to take control of it.”

“Why would they do that? Aren’t we and the York family allies?” Lilia asked in surprise.

“Allies? What right do we have to be allies with the York family?” Victor said with a bitter smile. “In their eyes, even making us their vassals would be doing us a favor. In reality, the York family is just waiting for me to be at my wit’s end, so I’ll bow my head to them.”

Victor knew that Sylvia had been looking out for him in this incident. The reason she hadn’t offered him grain was that he had postured as a wealthy tycoon in Black Fortress Town. From Sylvia’s perspective: you have tens of thousands of Gold Sols, and you want me to give you grain for free? But how could Victor explain this? Moreover, the freemen camp had become his Achilles’ heel. If the Prince’s Faction’s people took control of it and organized the freemen to charge into his territory, a violent conflict between his subjects and the freemen would be inevitable. Then, everything would be over! So, regardless of what Sylvia was thinking, that camp had to be under his control!

Lilia hesitated for a moment, then said, “Victor, I have an idea.”

“Go on,” Victor said, seeing the young woman’s hesitant expression.

“My lord, I don’t think the Prince’s Faction will let us go even after this turmoil is over. So…” Lilia bit her lip and continued, “So, I think we should accept the York family’s terms and become their vassals. You’ve said that our greatest weakness is not having a family’s support. Why don’t we choose to align ourselves with the York family?”

Clap. Clap. Victor applauded and smiled. “Lilia, you’re starting to learn to think from the fief’s perspective. That’s very good!”

Victor’s praise made Lilia breathe a sigh of relief. Before voicing her opinion, she had been a little worried that Victor would get angry, as he had always been opposed to becoming anyone’s vassal.

“We can’t rely on the York family. If they get into a conflict with another power, we would be the first ones to be taken down. It’s like a struggle between hyena chiefs—they always clip their opponent’s claws and fangs first.”

Besides this reason, the secret of the Alchemy Tower was another reason Victor had to choose independence. He thought for a moment and continued, “The Prince’s Faction is indeed a threat, but we have our own advantages. We are far more flexible and harmless than the great families.”

“So, I plan to establish a merchant association. I’ll use the products from our specialized villages to win over a number of lords and have them join our association. This will form a new power bloc. When that time comes, even the Prince’s Faction will have to think twice before moving against us.”

“Have other families join our merchant association? Can… can such an association even get off the ground?” Lilia asked, stammering.

Victor fell silent. Anyone from his old world was familiar with the shareholding system. It was a diplomatic strategy he had planned since he first conceived of the specialized villages. But in a world where military factions checked and balanced each other, Victor had no confidence that a shareholding system would work.

A few months ago, Victor would have been full of confidence. But the great turmoil caused by the work point system had taught him a lesson: things have their own natural laws of development, and you can’t just change them however you wish. Victor vaguely recalled a historical emperor from his old world who was hailed as the emperor most like a transmigrator. He had implemented many advanced systems, only to kick the bucket in just a few short years! Reality had taught Victor that life wasn’t easy for a transmigrator in a new world; he had already stumbled several times.

“It’s certainly difficult. But we have to try! How will we know if it’s a dead end if we don’t venture out and walk the path? Lacking the courage to even try is the greatest failure of all.” Victor walked to the railing and gazed at the hills shrouded in rain and mist, his eyes deep and distant.

Lilia stared blankly at Victor. At that moment, she felt her man was exceptionally charming and couldn’t help but blurt out, “Yes, Victor, I support you!”

“The merchant association is still a long way off. The immediate priority is to control that freemen settlement as quickly as possible. Only then can we control the number of freemen. Otherwise, if more and more people gather, even the Chapman family won’t dare to continue supporting us,” Victor said in a serious tone. “We…”

Before Victor could finish, an alchemical crow flew unsteadily through the fine rain, interrupting his conversation with Lilia with a loud caw.

Victor’s face changed drastically. This alchemical crow was responsible for monitoring the Great Marsh, and it was sending him a warning. Through its movements and cries, the crow could convey different reconnaissance details. This crow was now constantly repeating one message: unknown monsters, direction southwest, exceptionally massive horde.

“Victor, what’s wrong?” Lilia asked in horror, seeing the color drain from his face.

“Monsters are invading our territory! A great, great many of them!” Victor said gravely.

“How many?!”

“The Ash Falcon can’t see the end of them!”

Lilia’s face instantly turned deathly white. Victor had no time to comfort her. He gave a sharp whistle, and several alchemical crows in the camp immediately flew over. Victor made a hand signal, and the crows took to the sky, circled once, and flew southwest.

“Let’s go. We’re going down.”

Victor pulled Lilia’s hand and rushed towards the lower camp.

Gru was the Guard Captain on duty at the Hill Camp today. Seeing Victor and Lilia coming down, he was about to greet them when he heard Victor shout, “Gru! Immediately send someone to see if the Second Sentry Post has lit the beacon fire!”

Gru didn’t dare to delay. Just as he was about to send someone to investigate, a guard ran over, panting, and shouted to Victor, “My lord! There’s smoke coming from the Second Sentry Post! We don’t know if their hut caught fire.”

Victor’s heart sank. The entrance to the Great Marsh was over seventy kilometers from the camp in a straight line, and with the terrain, it would take a day and a night on horseback to reach. The Second Sentry Post, however, was only thirty-five kilometers away. One could see the Hill Camp after just half a day’s journey from there. This meant the monsters were at most ten hours away from the camp.

“My lord, is it an Ogre attack?” Gru asked in terror.

Victor shook his head. “Not Ogres. Unknown monsters, and a lot of them. Ring the alarm bell! Send cavalry to notify all the villages to take refuge in the Hill Camp immediately. And tell Narsen to bring his team back.”

“Wait!” Victor grabbed Gru, who was about to turn and leave. “Notify the two farms, Carpenter Village, and Flax Village to take refuge at the Hill Camp. The people from Brick Kiln Village are to meet up with Narsen. Report the situation here to Narsen and let him decide what to do!”

The farms, Flax Village, and Carpenter Village were at most ten kilometers from the Hill Camp. Brick Kiln Village was even closer to Narsen’s position. As for Narsen, he was at the furthest freemen settlement with fifty guards. It would take him a full day to get back. If Narsen’s team were to return, they would likely run into the monsters on the way.

Victor’s orders were quickly carried out. Several cavalrymen charged out of the camp into the curtain of rain. The camp’s alarm bell was rung, and people rushed out of their homes. All the men gathered in the square, where they would be armed, while the women and children took refuge in the barracks. A tense atmosphere instantly spread throughout the camp.

An hour later, the villagers from the farm closest to the Hill Camp arrived under the leadership of Village Head George. Then came Village Head Moline and his villagers, followed by Fero from Carpenter Village. Three hours later, Village Head Kent from Flax Village also successfully brought all his people into the camp.

“My lord, there are a total of seven hundred and forty-three people in the camp. Five hundred and twenty-seven are able-bodied men fit for combat. The rest are women and children. But our actual fighting strength is only two hundred, because we don’t have enough weapons. We only have forty crossbows, one hundred hunting bows, twenty thousand arrows, and one hundred sets of leather armor. We have enough long-spears, but the heavy crossbows…” Baritt glanced at Victor. The heavy crossbows had always been kept by Victor.

The old mercenary Baritt was the camp’s guard instructor. In fact, all the able-bodied men had received military training from Baritt as militia and could at least proficiently use hunting bows and long-spears.

“Heavy crossbows, we have four! And they’re even better than military-grade ones!” Victor said in a deep voice.

This was no time to hold anything back. All available strength had to be used. Four militiamen, including Reno, stood behind Victor. On Victor’s orders, the King also began producing three Crouching Ox Militiamen.

Victor rested both hands on the table and said grimly, “Just now, the Ash Falcon’s reconnaissance showed that the number of monsters is extremely large, and they are spreading throughout the entire fief. The closest are now less than ten kilometers away. I’ve sent an Ash Falcon with a message for Narsen, ordering him to send someone to ask Governor-General Earl York for help.”

“We must hold this camp until reinforcements arrive. Baritt, I am appointing you Commander, responsible for the defense of the entire camp. You may execute anyone who disobeys your orders on the spot!”

“As you command, my lord.” Baritt saluted Victor. Even in this life-or-death moment, the old mercenary was calm and composed—an essential quality for a field commander.

“Lilia, you are in charge of logistics. It is especially important to soothe the women and children. They are the families of our warriors; we cannot have any unrest. From now on, you are also to ration the camp’s food supplies. We must hold out for at least twenty days!” Victor said to Lilia.

“My lord, I’m also an excellent archer. I can join the fight,” Lilia, dressed in leather armor, shouted at Victor. In this dangerous moment, she didn’t want to leave his side.

“The men aren’t all dead yet! Since when is it a woman’s turn to go to war!” Victor shot Lilia a displeased glare, but seeing the girl’s stubbornly raised chin, he could only say, “Lilia, don’t forget your current role! The work of logistics is more important! I can’t trust anyone else with it but you!”

“Alright, I’ll listen to you.”

In the end, Lilia nodded obediently. She knew Victor was right. When besieged, internal stability was the most important thing. As the lord’s legal partner, she had a responsibility to calm the people.

Victor turned to Baritt and asked, “Baritt, how do you plan to array the defenses?”

“My lord, our camp may not be a sturdy fortress, but it is easy to defend and hard to attack. The Hill Camp is steep on three sides with a narrow front. As per your request to defend against Ogres, we’ve widened the trench to ten meters and deepened it to seven meters. In addition, a two-meter-thick brick wall has been built behind the iron-oak palisade. The soldiers can use the palisade for cover and fire their bows and crossbows freely from atop the brick wall.”

“Also, while we don’t know what kind of monsters they are, as long as they aren’t as powerful as Ogres, they won’t be able to breach our camp. As far as I know, the more numerous the monsters, the weaker they are individually, like Goblins and Kobolds. Even with their numbers, the terrain will limit them, negating their advantage.”

“So, I plan to divide the guards and militia into three groups to defend in shifts. As long as our supplies hold out, defending for twenty days will definitely not be a problem,” Baritt said, full of confidence.

Victor breathed a sigh of relief. Fortunately, the supplies from the Chapman family were still in the Hill Camp. Twenty days’ worth of supplies was more than enough.

“My lord! They’re here!” a guard ran in frantically, shouting at the top of his lungs.

Victor climbed onto the brick wall and looked down. He gasped. All he could see was a massive horde of black monsters, surging towards the camp along the mountain gully in a mighty, endless tide.

Chapter 103: Despair

The Iron-oak palisade of Hill Camp stood nearly nine meters high. A two-meter-thick brick wall was built right behind it, reaching a height of seven and a half meters. This sturdy brick wall not only provided powerful support for the iron-tough wooden fence but also formed a fighting platform behind it. From there, soldiers could use the cover of the Iron-oak palisade to rain a deadly storm of arrows upon the enemy outside the camp.

One hundred fifty fully armed soldiers stood atop the brick wall, their faces ashen. Beyond death itself, people always fear unknown monsters. And if there was one thing more terrifying than an unknown monster, it was many more unknown monsters.

A black carapace covered their entire bodies. They stood on all fours like centaurs, reaching a height of one-point-seven meters from the front. Except for their four thick fingers, which differed from a human’s, their upper bodies were remarkably similar to humans, making it clear these were not mere beasts. Their savage, ant-like heads were enough to make one’s skin crawl. From any angle, these monsters looked far from as frail as Goblins, yet their numbers were far greater.

When these half-man, half-ant monsters appeared in swarms outside Hill Camp, panic inevitably began to spread among the soldiers.

“What are you panicking for! They’re just a bit ugly and don’t even have weapons. How could they possibly breach our camp?”

Baritt patrolled back and forth along the brick wall, loudly berating the flustered soldiers. His words, however, gradually began to calm the men.

“Don’t be cowards! These monsters don’t have wings, they can’t fly in!”

“Don’t mind their numbers. Squeezed into a narrow space, they’re just targets for you. You could hit them with your eyes closed!”

The two dozen or so War Bear members continuously bolstered the morale of the men around them. The calm and composed demeanor of these old veterans infected the entire force, and the new recruits’ courage was rekindled.

Seeing that morale was restored, Baritt nodded in satisfaction. He walked over to Victor’s side and said casually, “My lord! I’ve eyeballed it, and there are about six hundred of these monsters. They have no weapons and no siege equipment. It’s impossible for them to breach our camp!”

“It’s 673!”

Victor’s expression was grim, his mind reeling as if struck by a tidal wave.

Physique 10, Spirit 1, Perception 10, Life 1.

Physique 12, Spirit 1, Perception 11, Life 2.

Physique 9, Spirit 1, Perception 9, Life 1.

The elemental attributes gathered from three random Ant-men made Victor almost disbelieve his own eyes. He consecutively gathered data from several more Ant-men and found, as expected, that not a single one had a Spirit attribute higher than one point or a Life attribute exceeding two points. This was contrary to all reason!

The four major elements constitute all things, and living beings are no exception. According to the theories of the Alchemical Empire, a creature without the four major elements is not a true life form. These Ant-men possessed all four, but their Soul Fire was only a single unit of the fire element, and their Life attribute did not exceed two points. For a living creature, this was practically impossible. How could such a low fire element attribute drive the creature’s Will Side? And such a low Life attribute meant these Ant-men either could not reproduce or were already at the end of their lives.

Senescence might have been an answer. Creatures nearing the end of their lives exhibit signs of aging: their water element continuously drains away, and their Soul Fire is on the verge of being extinguished, manifesting as a slow, dull, and weak state. This is followed by the rapid dissipation of the wind element, leading to deafness, blindness, and the loss of smell and taste. Then the earth element begins to disintegrate, causing hair loss, muscle atrophy, sagging skin, and tooth loss. Therefore, once a creature begins to age, all four of its elements collapse. It was impossible to have such an imbalanced set of elemental attributes!

Victor had only ever seen imbalanced elemental attributes in one specific type of life form: alchemical creatures!

The Alchemy Tower extracts elements from the void to create alchemical creatures. Besides the earth and wind elements, the water element is not attuned to these artificial life forms, which is why their Life attribute is extremely low. Alchemical creatures have short lifespans and cannot reproduce. But their Soul Fire never goes out; the Soul Fire of an alchemical creature comes from an extraordinary being, and immortality is their hallmark.

Victor had asked Reno about the death of alchemical creatures, but in the cognition of Alchemical humans, they never truly die! Even if their bodies perish, for an Alchemical human, it is merely a return to the Alchemy Tower to enter a state of dormancy, awaiting their master’s next awakening. However, apart from the memories inherent to their Will Side, all the memories they have experienced dissipate. In other words, they are reset!

The Tower Spirit King had also told Victor that when an Alchemical human dies, the memories of their death are uploaded to the Alchemy Tower for the Tower Spirit to sort and delete. Unfortunately, this function in Alchemy Tower No. 7 was completely destroyed.

“Are they of the same kind?” Victor discreetly asked Reno.

The alchemical creatures of the Néier Empire had an instinct for recognizing each other, as conspicuous as a white person spotting a fellow countryman in a crowd of black people.

Reno shook his head. Victor quietly breathed a sigh of relief. The shadow of the Alchemical Empire hung over his head like a dark cloud in the sky. It was just that compared to an extraordinary being, Victor was as minuscule as an ant. And it was precisely because of this insignificance that an ant paid no mind to the dark clouds in the sky, as long as the raindrops didn’t fall on it.

Victor turned his gaze back to the Ant-men. They had already closed to within a hundred meters of the trench. The Ant-men let out low hisses towards the camp and advanced at a slow pace.

The rain drizzled on relentlessly. The soldiers on the brick wall had their hunting bows drawn taut, their sharp arrows aimed at the approaching Ant-men. Raindrops trickled down the soldiers’ faces, and no one so much as blinked when the water ran into their eyes. The atmosphere was so heavy it had almost solidified.

“Hold steady! No one fires without my command!” Baritt patrolled back and forth along the brick wall. The Ant-men were still a little outside the optimal range of the hunting bows. “It doesn’t matter if they get a little closer. These monsters are on all fours; they’re clearly not good climbers.”

Victor wore a suit of exquisite leather armor and held an ordinary crossbow. As the camp’s most formidable sharpshooter, even a standard crossbow could unleash terrifying combat power in his hands. Reno and another Crouching Ox Militiaman, however, stood to Victor’s left, holding Thorium heavy crossbows. Should a powerful monster appear, these two Alchemical militia were to continuously span the crossbows for Victor.

54.4 meters, 52.1 meters, 47.6 meters. The data constantly refreshed in Victor’s mind. The X-3 not only rapidly calculated the Ant-men’s speed and distance but also continuously adjusted Victor’s posture. As long as Victor pulled the crossbow’s trigger, the bolt was guaranteed to hit the locked target.

Watching the monsters below the wall, a strange thought arose in Victor’s mind. Although these Ant-men were steadily approaching the trench, their movements were hesitant, and their hissing sounded more like a probing action, as if they were waiting for something to happen.

Victor pushed aside his distracting thoughts. Most of the soldiers were using less powerful hunting bows. If he let the monsters get any closer, they would miss the optimal range and angle for shooting. Now that the arrows were nocked, they had to be loosed.

When the monsters entered the 45-meter range, the optimal distance for hunting bows, Baritt decisively gave the order: “Fire!”

The soldiers’ taut nerves were like their drawn bowstrings. At the Commander’s command, the twang of bowstrings sounded like a sudden downpour, and a swarm of sharp arrows flew like locusts.

The sharp arrows flew at a hundred meters per second towards the Ant-men 45 meters away. In an instant, green liquid splattered, and twenty Ant-men were shot to the ground. However, many more were wounded but not killed; the arrows from the hunting bows could not fully penetrate their black carapaces.

The soldiers’ attack was like pouring cold water into a pot of boiling oil, instantly sending the Ant-men into a frenzy. The monsters let out excited screeches and charged fiercely toward the camp. Their ferocious momentum caused the faces of the men on the brick wall to turn pale.

Seeing the soldiers’ pale faces, Baritt roared, “Keep shooting, don’t stop!”

Led by the War Bear members, the new recruits steeled themselves and unleashed the arrows in their hands, one after another, upon the monsters. On the narrow slope, the Ant-men were packed together in a dense black mass. There was no need to aim; every arrow could find a target. Victor noticed that unless an arrow struck an Ant-man’s neck or head, the hunting bows could hardly inflict effective damage. Many Ant-men simply charged forward with arrows sticking out of them, seemingly unaffected by their injuries and feeling no pain. They met death not with screams of agony, but with excited screeches. This was a group of creatures that did not fear death!

Fortunately, the powerful crossbows could easily pierce the Ant-men’s carapaces. Most of the dead Ant-men had been killed by crossbows. The ones using crossbows were all members of the War Bear Mercenaries and specially trained Guards. Though their marksmanship was proficient, they couldn’t hit vitals with every shot. It often took several crossbows to kill a single Ant-man. Moreover, crossbows had a slow rate of fire and couldn’t suppress the Ant-men’s charge. After a few seconds, the Ant-men reached the edge of the trench.

The ten-meter-wide trench was clearly a distance the Ant-men could not jump. They were stopped. Then, the soldiers on the brick wall witnessed a scene that shook them to their core. The Ant-men stood up!

Yes, they just stood up! When they stood erect, the Ant-men instantly went from being around one-point-seven meters tall to two-point-four meters. Their two arms became four, and their four legs became two. Then, one after another, the Ant-men leaped into the trench, piling on top of each other, and began to climb.

“Keep shooting! Don’t stop!” Baritt roared at the ashen-faced militia, raising his own crossbow and firing a bolt into the dense mass of Ant-men.

Urged on by their commander’s shouts, the soldiers once again began to rain arrows down upon the fearless monsters. The Ant-men, with quills sticking out of their bodies, leaped into the trench one by one, climbed over the bodies of their comrades, and struggled to ascend.

The Ant-men’s frenzy made Victor’s scalp tingle. He felt as if he were watching a scene from a movie of zombies storming a city, only these monsters were clearly more agile and stronger than those living dead!

“Give me four crossbows! Reload for me!” Victor roared.

Several Guards immediately passed over the crossbows in their hands. These powerful crossbows, which required the strength of one’s legs to span, could be reloaded by Reno and the other Crouching Ox militiaman with a simple pull, seating the string in the trigger mechanism.

Victor raised a crossbow and fired without hesitation. The bolt shot straight through an Ant-man’s head, killing it instantly. Taking another crossbow, Victor fired again. Unsurprisingly, another Ant-man’s head was as fragile as a tomato before the powerful bolt. Just like that, Victor shot, switched crossbows, shot, switched again. In just over ten seconds, more than a dozen Ant-men had died at his hands. Eventually, Victor ended up wielding a crossbow in each hand, firing down into the trench. Every shot accurately pierced an Ant-man’s head. Soon, dozens of Ant-man corpses were piled up at the edge of the trench, their blood dyeing the ground a ghastly green.

Victor’s heroic performance elicited deafening cheers from all the soldiers. They were convinced that the lord could kill all these monsters by himself; over six hundred Ant-men were nothing more than six hundred-odd arrows.

Under Victor’s lethal barrage, fewer and fewer Ant-men leaped into the trench. Although some had managed to reach the other side of the trench, the Iron-oak palisade had become exceptionally slick in the rain, and these four-armed monsters couldn’t climb it at all. Seeing the monsters unable to scale the palisade, the soldiers’ morale soared. They began to aim for the Ant-men’s heads, and some of the bolder soldiers even sat on top of the palisade to shoot at the Ant-men in the trench.

After suffering heavy casualties, the Ant-men finally began to retreat. During their withdrawal, another two dozen or so fell to the soldiers’ bolts.

The brick wall was filled with joyous laughter. In a battle that had lasted just over ten minutes, more than four hundred Ant-men had been killed, while not a single soldier from the camp had died. Only a few unlucky ones had torn their fingernails on their bowstrings from being too tense.

“My lord, it’s a good thing these monsters still fear death, otherwise we would have been in real trouble this time,” Baritt said to Victor with reverence.

The way the Ant-men had fearlessly jumped into the trench had given Baritt a real fright. In his experience, monsters that didn’t fear death were the most terrifying because they would never break. When facing such an enemy, besides meeting them head-on to annihilate them, the best method was to stay far, far away.

Victor silently placed a piece of raw sugar in his mouth. The rich nutrients in the raw sugar would help him recover his stamina. The soldiers believed he could single-handedly shoot down all the Ant-men, but he knew he couldn’t. In the recent battle, although he had only activated the most basic Overlimit state, it had consumed a great deal of his stamina. To ensure he had enough energy to use Apocalypse, Victor had stopped after killing 67 Ant-men. In reality, most of the Ant-men had been crushed to death by their own comrades in the trench.

“Baritt, quickly arrange for men to clear out all the monster corpses from the trench. Build dams at both ends of the trench and pour all the camp’s fire oil into it. The arrows need to be collected too. I’m afraid we’re about to have a vicious battle!” Victor said, his face pale.

“My lord? Are you saying there are more monsters?” Baritt asked, his voice filled with shock and doubt.

The words had barely left his mouth when the Ant-men who had retreated to the bottom of the hill let out a piercing screech. In response, countless hisses rose up in answer. From a place beyond the sight of ordinary men, thousands upon thousands of Ant-men began to converge on Hill Camp like a flowing river.

Baritt suddenly understood. The monsters hadn’t retreated because they feared death, but because they were calling for reinforcements. These Ant-men were not only fearless but also intelligent.

A look of despair appeared in Baritt’s eyes.

Chapter 104: Retreat

What do beasts do when they are cornered? They will never resign themselves to fate! Driven by their survival instincts, even the most docile rabbit will struggle. But humans are not beasts. A highly socialized life and intellect have worn away many of humanity’s animal instincts, which is why some people choose to wait for death in a desperate situation—unless someone leads them to resist. For a socialized life has endowed humanity with another powerful instinct: a collective consciousness.

This was exactly the situation now. When the dense swarm of Ant-men surged forward again, these warriors—who had only recently been farmers—did not collapse as Victor had anticipated. The twenty-some War Bear Mercenaries shouted curses, laughed, and bantered with one another as they fired deadly bolts from their crossbows at the monsters below. Spurred on by these veterans, the other militia also fired for their lives.

Victor found it strange that he wasn’t afraid either. In his past life on Earth, when watching war movies, Victor had always thought the charging soldiers were fools. If it were him, he would have found a place to play dead. But now he understood. As long as his comrades were still fighting desperately by his side, a soldier would not be afraid—or rather, he would have no time for fear. And so, he stood on the brick wall, sending bolt after bolt into the Ant-men’s heads. In truth, while Victor was being encouraged by others, his very presence was the greatest encouragement to his soldiers. Of course, if Victor were to fall in battle, these soldiers would instantly break.

Sharp arrows pierced the rain-swept sky, shattering the Ant-men’s carapaces. Green fluid sprayed everywhere, splattering the ground with a greasy sheen. The two Lithe Ape militiamen were especially effective; armed with longbows, every arrow they loosed pierced an Ant-man’s skull. In fact, they had killed more Ant-men than Victor.

Victor knew the soldiers’ efforts were in vain. These Ant-men were monsters that fought with no regard for their own lives. They simply charged forward under the rain of arrows, and they would soon reach the edge of the trench. Then they would leap in without hesitation, allowing their comrades to trample over their bodies until they formed a ramp level with the palisade.

“Throw the torches down!” Baritt roared.

As dozens of Ant-men leaped into the trench filled with fire oil, more than ten oilwood torches were tossed down from the palisade. The pool of fire oil ignited, and merciless flames instantly engulfed the Ant-men. A wave of heat rolled out, so intense that Victor could feel it even from his high perch on the palisade.

This fire oil was a mixture of palm oil and lard. The oil extracted from oil palms burned at an extremely high temperature, while the lard made it long-lasting. Even with the moderate rain falling from the sky, the oil pit blazed fiercely. But what was truly despairing was that the Ant-men continued to leap into the fiery pit one after another. It wouldn’t be long before they extinguished the flames with their bodies.

However, that did not happen. Every Ant-man that jumped into the fire pit was instantly set alight, making the flames burn even more ferociously. The air filled with a pungent, foul stench—the smell of burning Ant-men.

Watching the Ant-men leap into the oil pit one by one, only to be ignited like giant torches, everyone stared in stunned silence.

“Hahaha! These death-defying beasts are afraid of fire!”

“Jump! Go on, jump! It’d be best if all you monsters jumped in and burned to death!”

“The great Lord of Radiance must be protecting us!”

The flames formed an impassable barrier, devouring every Ant-man that leaped in. The soldiers laughed and talked loudly, their suppressed emotions ignited by the burning monsters.

“Haha, my lord, these monsters are afraid of fire!” Gru walked over, laughing heartily.

Baritt said calmly, “It’s not that they fear fire. It’s that their blood is as flammable as oil.”

Victor nodded. Baritt’s observation was astute; the green blood on the ground was indeed burning.

“My lord, these monsters are very strange,” Baritt continued, stroking his beard. “If they were beasts without intelligence, they wouldn’t have hands like men, nor would they know how to retreat. But if they have intelligence, why are they foolish enough to keep jumping into a fire?” He paused. “My guess is that these monsters, like soldiers, must obey the commands of a commander. So, it’s very likely there is a monster among them specifically responsible for command. If we could kill it, the situation might change.”

Victor glanced at the few Alchemical militia standing silently nearby. They, too, would follow his orders without hesitation, just like these Ant-men. Victor had a nagging feeling that these Ant-men were closely related to alchemical creatures. Firstly, the Ant-men’s form was perfectly designed for combat. They could run and charge on four limbs, but in a fight, they could stand upright to free their middle pair of arms, meaning they could wield more weapons. Secondly, their elemental attributes and behavioral patterns were very similar to those of alchemical creatures. The only thing that puzzled Victor was that if the Ant-men were Alchemical lifeforms, they must be combat units. Yet their individual strength was far too weak. Even with their vast numbers, they couldn’t possibly be a main force of the Alchemical Empire.

“I need to make a trip to the upper camp.”

Seeing the Ant-men begin to fall back, Victor decided to use the lull to visit the Alchemy Tower. Before the second wave of attacks, an Alchemical militiaman had already delivered the corpse of an Ant-man to the elemental extraction platform. Now, Victor wanted to ask the Tower Spirit, King, for some answers.

Baritt was shocked. He quickly whispered to Victor, “My lord, you can’t leave here now! Otherwise, our soldiers will become suspicious and they’ll soon collapse.”

Victor frowned and glanced around. He noticed the soldiers were indeed looking his way from time to time before turning back to chat and laugh with their comrades as if nothing was wrong.

Victor’s expression flickered. The Ant-men had stopped jumping into the fire pit, but the fire oil would eventually burn out. If he couldn’t find a solution, it was only a matter of time before the camp was overrun. The key to turning the tide might lie in the Alchemy Tower. But Baritt’s advice was also sound. If he left the brick wall, these soldiers would likely break. They were not professional guards, after all.

Just as Victor was hesitating, the Ant-men made a new move. They approached the burning trench again, but this time they stood up on their hind legs and began furiously hurling clumps of mud into the fire pit.

“Shoot them!” Baritt’s face changed, and he commanded loudly.

The soldiers understood the Ant-men’s intent. Everyone fired their arrows at the Ant-men trying to extinguish the fire. This time, the Ant-men were noticeably smarter. They crouched on the ground, continuing to throw mud with their middle pair of arms while holding the corpses of their comrades in front of their heads. Not even a crossbow could kill them outright.

Now, everyone’s face turned grim. With the sheer number of Ant-men, it wouldn’t take long for them to fill the trench.

“Focus fire and kill one at a time!” Baritt shouted.

The soldiers immediately concentrated their fire on a single Ant-man. It was instantly riddled with arrows, turning it into a pincushion. But as soon as it fell, another Ant-man from behind, which had been carrying mud, took its place. Enduring the rain of arrows, the Ant-men maintained an unimaginable order, slowly but surely tossing mud and stones into the burning oil pit.

As the desperate soldiers frantically shot down the Ant-men, Victor looked out and saw countless more converging on the Hill Camp. He roughly estimated that there were already more than ten thousand gathered at the front.

Victor gritted his teeth and said to Baritt, “While the flames haven’t been put out, our only choice is to organize everyone to retreat using the ropes at the back of the camp!”

Baritt said in a low voice, “My lord, we can still hold on behind the protection of the palisade. In the open, I’m afraid we won’t be able to escape the pursuit of these monsters.”

When on all fours, these monsters could run like horses, their charge speed reaching up to fifty kilometers per hour. Baritt did not think a retreat was a good idea.

“I know! But we have no choice. Even if the Ant-men stop filling the trench, the fire oil will burn out. Retreating might offer a chance of survival, but if we’re trapped here, we’ll be wiped out sooner or later,” Victor continued. “We will continue to defend the palisade to draw the Ant-men’s attention and buy time for the retreat. As for how many survive? That will depend on their own luck.”

The Ant-men were swarming from the southwest, concentrated mainly at the front of the camp. The back of the camp was a steep slope. The lookouts had reported no Ant-men in that direction.

Baritt thought for a moment and sighed. “It seems this is the only way. My lord, you should go and organize the retreat! Leave this to me!”

“I’ll be the last to leave. Otherwise, the soldiers will break. Without the soldiers to hold them back, no one can retreat safely,” Victor said, shaking his head.

Baritt nodded gravely. He understood that this was indeed the key to an organized retreat. Whether it was to draw the Ant-men’s attention or a to slow down their efforts to extinguish the fire, the palisade line could not break first.

“Alright! My lord, I will fight with you to the very end!” Baritt said with determination.

When the soldiers heard that the lord would hold the line until the very end to cover their retreat, they fired their arrows at the Ant-men with even greater ferocity. For a time, the rate at which the Ant-men were filling the trench even slowed.

“Shak, go to the cave and bring me that brick. Also, tell Lilia to come see me,” Victor quietly instructed the Alchemical militiaman, Shak.

Soon, Shak returned with Lilia and a tall, sturdy man with a wooden expression.

“Victor, I’m not leaving! I want to be with you.”

The moment she arrived, Lilia threw herself into Victor’s arms, her face streaked with tears.

Victor sighed a long sigh. Lilia’s feelings for him were true, but she was just an ordinary person. If she stayed by his side, her chances of survival were infinitesimal.

“Lilia, listen to me!” Victor cupped Lilia’s small, tear-stained face. “You’re not abandoning me to flee alone. You have a more important mission. You must find a way to survive and deliver this brick to the Countess Sylvia. She will surely come to my rescue.”

Victor handed the brick to Lilia. It was one of the special bricks. According to the alchemical crow’s reconnaissance, more than thirty thousand Ant-men had entered Victor’s fief. Faced with so many fearless monsters, the York family would certainly not mobilize their full strength to rescue him. Even if Sylvia wanted to, she couldn’t convince the family. Unless there was a great enough benefit to make the York family willing to suffer heavy losses to save him. The special brick held just that kind of value.

“Someone else can do it! I just want to be with you!”

Lilia sobbed, clinging tightly to Victor’s waist, refusing to let go. In her eyes, being the last to retreat meant certain death. If she had to die, she would rather die with her man.

Victor gently stroked Lilia’s damp hair and whispered to her, “Listen, Lilia. I’m not going to my death! There’s a secret door in the restricted area of the upper camp that leads directly to the bottom of the hill. I’ll retreat from there. However, the slope is steep and there are no ropes. You’re just an ordinary person; you can’t get down. Besides, I have Reno and the others to protect me. I won’t be killed by these monsters so easily.”

“Really?!” Lilia looked up at Victor.

Victor nodded heavily, then turned to the stoic man beside them and asked, “What’s your name?”

The burly man bowed. “My lord, my name is Kahn.”

“Have we really only held on for twelve hours?” Victor murmured to himself.

Kahn was a newly created Crouching Ox Militiaman. It had been exactly twelve hours. Victor originally thought they could hold out for twenty days, but he hadn’t expected to be forced to retreat after just twelve hours.

“Kahn, your mission is to protect Lady Lilia and obey her commands!”

“Yes, my lord.”

Victor then whispered in Lilia’s ear, “Lilia, Kahn will protect you. Go straight to Narsen. I have two other men with Bansen, and they will also listen to you. Remember, don’t worry about the others fleeing on the road. In this situation, everyone is on their own! The sooner you reach Black Fortress Town, the greater our chance of turning things around!”

Victor staying behind to cover the retreat for others was not born purely of a noble character. Faced with a sea of Ant-men, the camp was indefensible. Fleeing was the only option. Letting the common folk scatter would, in turn, provide cover for Lilia. As for the common folk, by holding the line to the last to give them a chance to escape, Victor had already done his utmost. As for himself, with the protection of the Alchemical militia, his own chances of survival were the greatest.

In truth, Victor was reluctant to leave his fief. As long as he could wait for the York family to clear out these monsters, he would still be the legal lord of this land. Victor was not ready to give up Alchemy Tower No. 7. He planned to lure the monsters to the upper camp, then leave through the secret door. He would then rendezvous with Reno’s group and the five Alchemical Warhounds and continue to skirmish with the monsters within his territory for a while.

Victor believed that although the monsters were numerous, his fief was also vast. With the help of the alchemical crows, he could completely avoid them. After all, the individual strength of these Ant-men was not that great. If things became impossible, it would not be too late to flee then. But by that point, he would lose his legal ownership of the fief for having abandoned it.

Lilia stopped her tears and kissed Victor’s lips fiercely. A moment later, she gave him a deep look and turned to walk back into the camp. The Crouching Ox Militiaman, Kahn, followed silently behind her, with three alchemical crows circling above him.

Watching Lilia disappear from view, Victor sighed. In this fief, Lilia was the person he cared for most. But when the nest is overturned, how can any egg remain intact? Victor had already created the best possible conditions for Lilia’s escape—commoners for cover, militia for an escort, and alchemical crows for reconnaissance. Now, it was all up to her own abilities.

Victor composed himself and turned to look back below the palisade. The fire oil was still burning fiercely, the endless stream of Ant-men was still braving the arrow rain to throw dirt into the trench, and the soldiers behind the palisade were still firing ferociously at the monsters below. So far, no one in the camp had died, but soon, many would lose their lives.

“What a cruel world,” Victor said, raising his hand and shooting an Ant-man through the head, his dark eyes like ice.

Chapter 105: The Turning Point

At the rear of the Hill Camp, six ropes had already been lowered. Made of sisal, each rope was as thick as an egg and extremely sturdy.

The first to descend the ropes were not the women and children, but several dozen able-bodied young men. The back slope of the Hill Camp was about seventy or eighty meters high and incredibly steep. If there was no one below to hold the ropes steady, the women and children would most likely fall to their deaths on their own. Although these young men were the first to leave the camp, they had to assist those who followed and remain vigilant of their surroundings at all times.

Based on reconnaissance from the alchemical crows, Victor had designed an escape route for his retreating subjects. After reaching the ground, they would first head south, then east, take a wide detour, and then turn north to flee toward Black Fortress Town. As long as they could make it to Black Fortress Town, they would be safe; its thirty-meter-high walls were something these Ant-men could never breach. Victor gave them two suggestions: split up and avoid the monsters. At a time like this, anyone still thinking of fleeing in a group was simply courting death. It was best if some were willing to travel with the women and children, but choosing to flee alone was also understandable. As for what might happen on the road, Victor couldn’t concern himself with that. In every disaster, it was always the weak who were culled first. Even on Earth, “women and children first” was little more than a legend.

No one knew yet that the Ant-men had absolutely no interest in the weak and defenseless. Their mission was only to eliminate the enemy’s fighting forces. If the Hill Camp hadn’t attacked the Ant-men first, nothing would have happened.

Under the organization of a few village heads, the retreat was astonishingly efficient. Victor was impressed by the composure these locals showed in the face of monsters. In less than an hour, half the people had already reached the ground and begun their escape along the gully.

On the brick wall, two hundred soldiers were still fighting valiantly, but as more and more people fled, their morale was inevitably affected. In particular, the Ant-men below were relentlessly tossing damp soil into the trench, and the flames had noticeably diminished. To prevent the wall of fire from being extinguished, Baritt had already poured the last few barrels of fire oil into the trench. Everyone understood that the fire would go out sooner or later. When that happened, it would only be a matter of a dozen minutes or so before the palisade was breached. Fortunately, Victor patrolled back and forth along the wall. His calm and composed demeanor allowed the soldiers to grit their teeth and hold on.

Victor raised his hand and shot dead an Ant-man that was carrying soil. His casual air drew a round of cheers from the War Bear Mercenaries. Victor knew they were deliberately trying to boost morale; he was only shooting occasionally now, needing to conserve his strength for the escape.

Even if he were the last to retreat, Victor was confident he could escape safely. But if these soldiers couldn’t withdraw soon, their odds looked grim. Watching the fire shrink, Victor grew secretly anxious. Seven months of camaraderie had forged a deep bond between him and these men, especially the War Bear Mercenaries. They genuinely supported him, and Victor couldn’t bear to watch them die. He roughly estimated that the Ant-men would extinguish the fire in thirty minutes at most—not enough time for all the soldiers to escape. And the War Bear Mercenaries would surely be the last group to go.

How could he create an escape opportunity for these men? Victor had been mulling over this question. An ordinary lord would prioritize saving his veterans. Even if the army was crushed, as long as the veterans remained, a new army could be rebuilt quickly. But Victor’s problem was that most of the soldiers on the brick wall were militia. Without the encouragement of the War Bear Mercenaries, they would have collapsed long ago.

On the surface, Victor remained impassive, but inwardly he was restless and agitated. He raised his crossbow and fired a bolt at a dull-witted Ant-man. The Ant-man simply raised a hand and snatched the bolt aimed at its head. Then it let out a sharp hiss at Victor, as if in provocation, or perhaps as a declaration: it had locked onto the sharpshooter who had killed over a hundred of its kind!

Victor was stunned. This was the first time he had ever seen a creature capable of catching a crossbow bolt in mid-air! The crossbow bolts were forged from refined iron; short and hard. Although its range was shorter than a bow’s, the bolt’s velocity reached two hundred thirty meters per second, and its penetrating power was double that of an arrow. Yet, this Ant-man had effortlessly caught a bolt that was a blur to the naked eye!

“My lord!” Baritt growled at Victor. He had noticed the scene immediately. This Ant-man had to be the commander! Now he was just waiting for Victor to kill it with a single shot and see what would happen next.

Victor raised a hand, signaling Baritt to be patient, but inwardly he was utterly horrified.

Physique 30, Spirit 523, Perception 20, Life 30.

Victor had never seen a creature with such high attributes, especially its Spirit attribute of a full five hundred twenty-three points! What did five hundred twenty-three Spirit even mean? Victor wasn’t sure. But the highest attribute he had ever seen was Bruce’s Physique of twenty-seven points. When Bruce fought the Ogre, the mere shockwaves of their battle had torn up the ground like it had been shelled by mortars. That inhuman combat power had made Victor envious for a long time. Therefore, this Ant-man was definitely the strongest creature Victor had ever encountered!

Whether this Ant-man was the commander or not, Victor had to kill it. Once the fire went out, no one would be able to escape its pursuit.

“Heavy crossbow!” Victor said in a low voice.

A cocked Thorium heavy crossbow was placed in Victor’s hands, immediately drawing everyone’s gaze. The massive weapon was a pale cyan color, shimmering with a faint, cold light. It looked like a work of art forged from metal, filled with a cold, hard beauty. The meter-long Thorium bolt was sharp and heavy, capable of easily piercing even steel armor.

Holding the Thorium heavy crossbow, Victor was suddenly filled with a heroic sense of being able to conquer the world. He was certain that with this great weapon, he could kill that Ant-man.

Overlimit activated, Super Sense activated, Seamless activated. Victor entered the Apocalypse state. In his perception, everything slowed down, giving him an invincible feeling of being in control of everything. The Ant-man’s head grew larger and larger in his vision. He could even see the sharp, cold glint of the Thorium bolt reflected in its compound eyes. A gentle breeze swirled around Victor, then joyfully clung to the bolt. Victor pulled the trigger. The Thorium bolt, as thick as a pigeon’s egg, shot toward the Ant-man at seven hundred twenty-seven meters per second. In a flash of light, it was right in front of the creature.

However, the Ant-man dodged in a flash, and the bolt, swift as lightning, missed! The bolt shot straight through the bodies of three ordinary Ant-men behind it, spraying a large plume of green fluid before burying itself deep into the trunk of a large tree.

The commander Ant-man let out an enraged shriek. The other Ant-men immediately quickened their pace of filling the trench. The soldiers beside Victor turned deathly pale. Victor was the greatest sharpshooter they had ever seen; he had never missed. But today, he had! This was a massive blow to everyone’s morale.

Victor’s face was ashen. This Ant-man’s Perception was almost on par with his, and its Spirit was dozens of times higher. It wasn’t that the Ant-man had dodged the bolt; it had clearly observed Victor’s movements and had begun to evade the very instant he pulled the trigger.

“My lord, one more shot!” Baritt looked at Victor expectantly. Killing this Ant-man could be the turning point of the battle. They couldn’t give up, no matter what.

Victor took the Thorium heavy crossbow and looked at the Ant-man, finding it was indeed staring intently at him. Clearly, the Thorium heavy crossbow could deal it a fatal blow, but Victor knew it was impossible to hit it while it was watching him.

Raindrops fell ceaselessly from the sky, landing on Victor. Water trickled down his face and head, rolling into his collar. The shirt under his leather armor was soaked and stuck uncomfortably to his skin. Victor looked up at the sky, an idea forming in his mind.

“Blackfeather!”

At Victor’s command, the alchemical crow, Blackfeather, let out a loud “caw” and flew to a spot a hundred meters above the Ant-man’s head. It began to circle in a very tight pattern directly above the creature, cawing shrilly without pause.

Victor ducked, immediately hiding behind the palisade. He could no longer see the Ant-man, nor could the Ant-man see him, now that he had vanished behind the wooden barrier.

A light breeze swirled around Victor. He crouched low, pushed off the brick wall with one hand, and silently slid over ten meters. Another push, and he was a full twenty meters away from his original position. With his back to the palisade, Victor squatted on the wall and slowly closed his eyes, regulating his breathing according to the method of the Golden Toad Mystic Form. His breathing became almost nonexistent, and his heartbeat slowed to a faint, weak pulse. His entire presence merged with the environment as if he had lost all signs of life. This was the Hibernation Method from the Golden Toad Mystic Form.

The Hibernation Method of the Golden Toad Mystic Form was meant to help practitioners eliminate distracting thoughts, perceive nature, and reach the so-called mysterious state of reflecting the world with one’s mind. Unfortunately, on Earth, no practitioner had ever been able to enter this peculiar state. But in this world of strange laws, it was by practicing the Golden Toad Hibernation Method that Victor had triggered his Blind Sense talent. In the hibernating state, his perception became even more acute.

X-3 filtered out all the sound signals on the battlefield one by one, leaving only the sound of Blackfeather circling and calling. Three hundred seventy-four meters—that was Blackfeather’s distance from him. Victor also knew that a hundred meters or so below Blackfeather was the Ant-man’s position. Victor entered the Apocalypse state again, and his hearing was instantly enhanced several dozen times over. Following the sound from Blackfeather’s position, Victor caught the sound of many raindrops falling. These raindrops made faint “plip, plop” sounds as they landed on the Ant-man. In that instant, Victor locked onto his target from among the hundreds of Ant-men!

Countless raindrops fell from the sky, making various soft sounds as they struck the Ant-men. These sound signals formed a clear, three-dimensional image in Victor’s mind. Victor “saw” this Ant-man constantly scanning the palisade, searching for his position.

After Victor had hidden behind the palisade, the Ant-man couldn’t see him, and he couldn’t see it. But Victor could hear it! Blackfeather provided a general location, and the rain helped him distinguish his target from the hundreds of other Ant-men. Now, this Ant-man had nowhere left to hide!

Now! The moment the Ant-man’s gaze turned to the other side, Victor sprang up, turned, and fired. The Thorium bolt, wrapped in a gentle breeze, was as fast as a bolt of lightning, instantly shooting straight through the Ant-man’s head.

The bolt entered through a compound eye and exited from the back of its skull. The meter-long Thorium bolt pierced the Ant-man’s head, causing it to sway as if drunk. A sharp hiss came from its savage mandibles. After struggling for a good while, this monster with a Physique of thirty points finally collapsed, dead.

The moment the monster died, an astonishing change occurred among the hundreds of Ant-men below. Their orderly formation immediately fell into chaos. The Ant-men dropped the soil in their claws, let out bloodcurdling hisses, and began to viciously fight one another. Their pincer-like mandibles tore mercilessly into their comrades’ bodies. Many Ant-men, locked in combat, rolled into the fiery trench, causing the weakening flames to roar back to life.

Victor and his soldiers stared at each other, watching the Ant-men slaughtering one another. After a long moment, the soldiers erupted in cheers. They hugged their comrades-in-arms and slapped each other’s shoulders, the atmosphere of despair and oppression swept away in an instant.

“My lord, these monsters are indeed dependent on a commander’s control. However, we can’t celebrate too early. For now, we’ve only delayed the fire wall’s demise,” Baritt said solemnly to Victor.

Victor agreed wholeheartedly with Baritt’s assessment. Even if the Ant-men no longer tried to extinguish the flames, the fire oil would eventually run out, and there were still thousands upon thousands of Ant-men. However, this change had indeed bought the soldiers more time to retreat.

Victor had a deeper understanding of the change in the Ant-men. After the commander was killed, the Spirit attribute of the other ordinary Ant-men changed from one point to two, after which they began to randomly attack their own kind.

Victor speculated that the commander Ant-man’s five hundred-plus Spirit points were used to control the ordinary Ant-men. The method of control was to draw one unit of Soul Fire from each of them. When the commander died, this Soul Fire returned to the Ant-men’s souls, and these now-uncontrolled ordinary Ant-men began to kill each other. To look at it another way, these few hundred Ant-men were just a single unit! This also meant there were at least a hundred more of those commander Ant-men with extraordinary attributes!

“We can’t let our guard down. The Ant-men further back will probably still come to put out the fire,” Victor said grimly.

As soon as he finished speaking, a large contingent of Ant-men swarmed forward and began to slaughter their chaotic kin. Soon, the out-of-control Ant-men were all butchered. But these new Ant-men did not continue to douse the fire; instead, they retreated again.

Seeing this, everyone breathed a sigh of relief, but Victor looked thoughtful.

“It seems the commander Ant-men have a limited range of control over the ordinary ones. They clearly don’t want to expose themselves to the range of the Thorium heavy crossbow,” Victor thought to himself.

Without the Ant-men’s interference, the fire oil lasted much longer. After everyone in the camp had evacuated, it was finally the soldiers’ turn to retreat.

Every twenty minutes, another fifty soldiers successfully retreated from the Hill Camp. As the flames began to wane, the War Bear Mercenaries also began to withdraw.

“My lord! You retreat first! Let us stay here and draw the Ant-men’s attention,” Baritt said to Victor with sincerity.

Victor shot an approaching Ant-man dead, then turned to Baritt with a smile. “Don’t hold me back. You still don’t know my strength? Or do you think you’re a match for Reno and his men?”

Victor’s words were both moving and disheartening for Baritt. He vaguely knew that the lord possessed a secret force. These people were standing on the brick wall right now—besides Reno, there were more than twenty other powerful soldiers. Baritt recognized some of them, but not others. However, he had to admit they were stronger than the War Bear Mercenaries. These elite soldiers would fight alongside Victor until the very end, buying time for their escape.

Besides the Alchemical militia, Victor also had eighteen Alchemical auxiliary soldiers under his command. The attributes of these auxiliary soldiers were comparable to elite soldiers, and Victor had even loaded them with the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form and Ranged Weapon Mastery. Their combat effectiveness definitely surpassed most of the War Bear Mercenaries. It was just uncertain whether these auxiliary soldiers could escape safely from the upper camp, which was over two hundred meters high.

Victor made a gesture to the sky, and two alchemical crows immediately landed on his shoulders. He said to Baritt, “These two Ash Falcons will help you evade the Ant-men. I hope we can all see each other again, alive.”

After briefly teaching Baritt how to interpret the signals from the Ash Falcons, Victor said, “Go now, quickly!”

Although these veteran soldiers were ordinary people, Victor dearly hoped they would survive. In a way, they were even more precious than the Alchemical militia.

“My lord! You are a true Knight!” The mercenaries saluted Victor one after another, then retreated from the brick wall cleanly and decisively.

After Baritt left with the mercenaries, Victor also jumped down from the wall. He needed to hurry and get to the bottom of this with the King.

Victor walked into the Alchemy Tower and immediately connected with the Tower Spirit in his mind. Before he could ask the King a single question, the King sent Victor a message first.

“My lord! Seventy-one minutes ago, the Alchemy Tower’s Soul Fire limit increased by thirty points, and the gold reserves increased by seven thousand, eight hundred fifty-three!”

Chapter 106: Mass Production

What could one do with seven thousand eight hundred fifty-three Gold Sols? One could purchase one hundred sets of weapons and armor to equip one hundred soldiers. One could buy two thousand seven hundred dairy cows, or even one thousand five hundred tons of barley. In short, with such a sum, Victor could greatly strengthen his fief. But for the Alchemy Tower, this money held a special significance.

Creating alchemical creatures required a certain amount of gold coins. The Alchemical Empire believed that money contained the power of the Law of Creation. Victor interpreted this as Fortune; expending money was, in essence, expending Fortune. Victor had once conducted an experiment: Flatlake Village had offered him tribute in the form of supplies. This act was, in effect, a transfer of Flatlake Village’s own wealth to Victor. Sure enough, when comparing identical supplies, the Alchemy Tower determined that the tribute from Flatlake Village contained more wealth than supplies Victor had purchased himself. This indicated that when Victor bought supplies, a portion of his own wealth was transferred to the merchant. Wealth itself represented resources, and therefore, Victor believed that wealth was Fortune.

There were only two ways to acquire wealth: creation and plunder. As for plunder, one way was war, the other was trade. And yet, when Victor shot and killed a special Ant-man monster, the Alchemy Tower’s wealth had instantly increased by seven thousand eight hundred fifty-three Gold Sols. This sum raised all sorts of questions for Victor. Where did it come from? And what did it have to do with the Law of Creation?

However, Victor wasn’t focused on these questions at the moment. He admitted that his understanding of this world was still far from profound, especially when it came to matters touching upon the world’s secrets. They were beyond his comprehension, at least for now.

Victor just wanted to know one thing: were the Ant-men alchemical creatures or not?!

The corpse of an Ant-man lay on the Element Extraction Altar. Victor asked, “King, are these half-man, half-ant monsters alchemical creatures from the Néier Empire?”

“My lord, I cannot be certain if these creatures are alchemical creatures, but they are definitely connected to the Alchemy Tower,” the King responded.

When an alchemical creature died, its Soul Fire would return to the Alchemy Tower. This was a key characteristic. But if the Ant-men truly were alchemical creatures, the implications were terrifying! Victor had absolutely no desire to make an enemy of the Alchemical Empire; the odds of victory were nil.

Victor asked, flustered and exasperated, “Why would alchemical creatures attack me? I thought we were on the same side!”

“My lord, I do not know,” the King said earnestly, adding, “I truly do not know.”

Victor was left speechless. In the end, the King, just like him, was merely an inheritor of the Néier Empire’s legacy. Its knowledge of the empire was limited to the information stored within the Alchemy Tower. Of the Alchemical Empire’s deeper secrets and knowledge, the King knew as little as he did.

“Can you give me your best guess?” Victor asked, unwilling to give up.

After a moment, the King replied, “My lord, I suspect these Ant-men might be alchemical creatures. The Alchemy Tower they belong to may have malfunctioned, causing a deviation in the fixed content of their Will Side. That would explain why they are attacking us so recklessly!”

“What puzzles me is that when an Alchemical lifeform dies, its Soul Fire should return to its own Alchemy Tower. Yet I absorbed this one. Also, alchemical creatures cannot reproduce. How did they survive for tens of thousands of years? If… if these Ant-men were indeed created by an Alchemy Tower, it’s impossible that our own alchemical creatures wouldn’t recognize them. Therefore, I cannot determine if they are alchemical creatures, only that they have a connection to the Alchemy Tower.”

“Now, tell me, can the Alchemy Tower be damaged? I mean, if the monsters destroy this place, what would happen to you?” Victor patted the Element Extraction Altar as he questioned the King. This was his most pressing concern. The Ant-men would breach the camp soon, and who knew if the monsters would try to destroy the Alchemy Tower.

“My lord, the Alchemy Tower can indeed be damaged. Some functions may be lost if their rune crystals are damaged, but the tower’s most core function—that of containing the Soul Fire—will never fail. In fact, the core function involves the Laws of the world and is not physically located within the Alchemy Tower.”

“As for the Element Extraction Altar, there’s no point in destroying it. It is merely a manifestation of the earth element. As long as the element extraction function within the rune crystal is not damaged, the Element Extraction Altar can change its form and size as needed, though this would, of course, consume a certain amount of gold.”

Victor breathed a sigh of relief. He had seen the rune crystal before. That palm-sized crystal was the true body of the Alchemy Tower. Normally, it existed in a crystalline material form, hidden inside the Element Extraction Altar. When the Alchemy Tower was in use, it would manifest as a cluster of runes. With the four fundamental runes at its core, it would generate other runes, all arranged in a sphere. The patterns were simpler towards the center and grew more complex in the outer layers. The outer runes constituted the tower’s various functions. Tower No. 7’s rune crystal was flawed, and many of its functions were unusable. The rune crystal was, in essence, a manifestation of the Law of Creation. It couldn’t be destroyed by physical means, and those without the Alchemical Empire’s authority couldn’t even remove it.

“King, open the Element Extraction Altar,” Victor commanded.

The altar-like Element Extraction Altar emitted a soft white glow, then split into numerous small, square stone blocks. The blocks floated in the air, revealing a rhomboid crystal to Victor’s eyes.

The hazy, dreamlike crystal represented secrecy, power, and authority. Looking at this supreme treasure, which was so easily within his grasp, Victor hesitated, unable to decide.

Theoretically, the rune crystal was the Alchemy Tower, but the location of an Alchemy Tower was chosen with great care; it had to be built at a place where the four elements converged. Neither Victor nor the King knew how to detect void element, so Victor had originally planned to take the rune crystal with him and return to rebuild the Alchemy Tower after the monsters were cleared out.

The problem now was that these monsters had a profound connection to the Alchemy Tower. Were they coming for the tower itself? If he took the rune crystal with him, would he be hunted down by hundreds of Commander Ant-men? The thought of the Commander Ant-men’s formidable attributes sent a chill down his spine.

“King, restore the Element Extraction Altar.”

In the end, Victor decided against taking the rune crystal. If the Ant-men were after it, he would never escape their pursuit with it in his possession. If they weren’t, it would be fine to leave it where it was, and he could even use it to create alchemical creatures to support him.

The floating stone blocks reassembled into their original form, and the light in the cavern gradually faded. Victor knocked hard on the iron-like stone altar and sighed. “King, how much money does the Alchemy Tower have in total right now?”

“My lord, including the recent addition of seven thousand eight hundred fifty-three gold coins, the Alchemy Tower has a total of nine thousand six hundred fifty-three gold coins,” the King answered truthfully.

“I remember the tower has a rapid production function,” Victor said thoughtfully.

“My lord, the rune cluster for the rapid production function in Tower No. 7 is unstable. If this function is activated, it may result in the permanent loss of this function.”

Rapid production was a function designed for emergencies. Once activated, the production speed of alchemical creatures increased by thirty percent, while the cost increased by fifty percent. Tower No. 7’s rapid production function was flawed and could only be used once. But this was clearly the most dire of emergencies. If not now, when? Besides, the tower still held nine thousand six hundred fifty-three gold coins. Victor would not be content until he had spent every last one.

“Cancel the production queue for the Alchemical Militia. Set a new production sequence, activate the rapid production function, and produce fifty Alchemical Warhounds. The initial order for each warhound is to rendezvous with me while avoiding the Ant-men,” Victor commanded.

Of course, nine thousand six hundred fifty-three gold coins weren’t enough to produce fifty Alchemical Warhounds. In rapid production mode, an Alchemical Warhound cost one thousand two hundred Gold Sols and took two hours and forty-seven minutes to create. These expensive alchemical creatures were strong, swift, had keen perception, and were highly mobile. They could completely avoid the Ant-men encirclement, making them perfectly suited for the current situation. Victor didn’t know how long it would be before he could return to the Alchemy Tower, so he simply set a long production queue. With enough Alchemical Warhounds, his chances of hunting down the Ant-man commanders, or even of escaping, would increase dramatically.

Victor was going to fight cannon fodder with cannon fodder!

————————————

Lilia lay on Kahn’s back, the wind whistling past her ears as the scenery on either side blurred into a rapid retreat. With Lilia on his back, Kahn ran with great strides, each step covering a distance of four meters, kicking up clods of earth.

Kahn had been running at this speed for a full hour, yet he showed no signs of fatigue. Such extraordinary stamina was enough to make anyone stare in amazement.

Lilia was oblivious to this. She was burning with anxiety, wishing she could rendezvous with Narsen at once so her brother could go rescue Victor. Although Victor had his own escape plan, the Hill Camp was surrounded by a massive number of Ant-man monsters. The risk of being surrounded was extremely high for the last person to withdraw.

As soon as Lilia had evacuated the Hill Camp, she didn’t even stop to speak with the village heads, instead taking Kahn and heading for the designated resettlement point in the northernmost part of the fief, just as planned. But she was, after all, an ordinary person. After running for some distance, she was panting with exhaustion, so she had simply let Kahn carry her.

Kahn had already run nearly thirty-five kilometers with Lilia on his back, but they were still far from the freemen’s camp. Lilia was unhappy about this, as Kahn had been taking detours the entire time. She also knew that Kahn was constantly adjusting their route to avoid the Ant-men, guided by three Ash Falcons that scouted for them. These alchemical crows flew high in the sky, their broad vision making them the best reconnaissance units. With their help, one could almost certainly avoid being surrounded by Ant-men, as long as one’s stamina held out.

One of the Ash Falcons flying ahead suddenly circled in the air several times. Kahn immediately stopped.

“What is it? Don’t tell me there are more Ant-men up ahead,” Lilia asked with a frown. They were already a great distance from the Hill Camp. If they were still encountering Ant-men here, it meant there were far more than ten thousand of these monsters.

Kahn shook his head. “It’s not Ant-men ahead. It’s human cavalry. Our people.”

The Ash Falcon’s aerial maneuvers indicated that it had not only seen human cavalry, but also another alchemical crow.

Overjoyed, Lilia jumped down from Kahn’s back. “It must be my brother.”

Guided by the alchemical crow, Lilia and Kahn indeed saw a troop of cavalry, led by none other than Narsen, mounted on a Swiftbird.

At that moment, Narsen also saw Lilia. He and his men quickly rode toward them. The instant he leaped from the Swiftbird’s back, Lilia threw herself into his arms, weeping.

“Brother, hurry and save Victor!”

Narsen hugged his sister, a hundred emotions welling up inside him. He had been at the freemen’s camp when he first received the intelligence from an Ash Falcon. Due to the small size of the parchment, Victor had only briefly told him that Hill Camp was surrounded by countless monsters and ordered him to assist the villagers from Brick Kiln Village.

Narsen had immediately set out with his guards for Brick Kiln Village, encountering the north-bound villagers halfway there. Narsen had gotten an update from Dean, but Dean wasn’t clear on the specific details either, only that many monsters were pouring into the fief from the entrance to the Great Marsh. In the end, Narsen decided that Dean would lead the people to retreat to the freemen’s camp, while he himself would take ten cavalrymen back toward Hill Camp to investigate. To avoid the monsters coming from the west, Narsen chose to circle around from the east, which was how he ran into Lilia.

“Lilia, what on earth happened?” Narsen grasped Lilia’s shoulders and asked in a low, serious voice.

Lilia knew that time was of the essence. She stopped her tears and quickly described the situation to Narsen.

“Brother, Victor is going to be the last to retreat. You have to find a way to bring him back,” she finished, her voice catching in a sob again. The thought of Victor’s uncertain fate was like a knife twisting in her heart.

Narsen’s expression was grave. He had never imagined they would be facing an attack from thousands upon thousands of monsters. In human history, mobilizing ten thousand soldiers for a war was not a common occurrence. The most recent example was the Battle of Whitewater Fortress, launched by the Sasan Empire.

“Lilia, My Lord wants you to go to Black Fortress Town for reinforcements. You should leave immediately. And while you’re at it, tell Dean and the others to retreat toward Black Fortress Town,” Narsen said.

With the situation so dangerous, Narsen didn’t want his sister to meet with any misfortune. Sending her to Black Fortress Town was the safest option. He figured this was what Victor had intended as well.

Seeing Lilia’s anxious expression, Narsen comforted her, “Lord Victor is exceptionally strong, and he has Reno and the others protecting him. He’ll definitely be fine. Besides, these Ash Falcons are pets raised by My Lord; they can certainly contact him. You don’t need to worry.”

Narsen glanced up at the stoic Kahn but wisely didn’t ask any more questions. The tall, brawny man gave him the same impression as Reno. Narsen believed that Victor’s hidden power was immense; these warriors were likely a secret force cultivated by the Wimbledon family.

“You all protect Lady Lilia on her way to Black Fortress Town. I will go to Hill Camp alone to investigate,” Narsen ordered his guards.

“Brother, you have to be careful. Don’t let the monsters surround you!”

With Narsen planning to scout alone, Lilia, who had just calmed down, couldn’t help but worry again.

Narsen patted the powerful Swiftbird beside him and said, “I can ride the Swiftbird. I won’t be surrounded.”

The Swiftbird was perfectly adapted to the hilly terrain, traversing obstacles as if on flat ground, but adult Swiftbirds were ill-tempered and difficult for ordinary people to ride. In Victor’s fief, the only ones who could handle an adult Swiftbird were Narsen and the Alchemical Militia.

“Oh, right, brother, the Ash Falcons can also scout the enemy,” Lilia said, turning to Kahn. “Kahn, tell my brother how to command the Ash Falcons.”

Kahn nodded blankly. Protecting Lilia on her way to Black Fortress Town was his primary mission; obeying her commands was his secondary mission. Teaching Narsen to recognize the Ash Falcons’ signals was perfectly in line with his duties.

A dozen or so minutes later, Narsen had a basic grasp of how to command the Ash Falcons and breathed a silent sigh of relief. He understood now. As long as the Ash Falcons were around, Victor’s chances of survival were greatly increased.

“Let’s go!”

Narsen tugged the reins, and the Swiftbird let out a loud cry before turning and racing off in the direction of Hill Camp. He couldn’t go back without seeing things for himself.

Chapter 107: The Scheming Narsen

Narsen stood on a mound, gazing into the distance. A black tide of monsters was pouring into Hill Camp, filling him with both shock and rage.

The closer he got to Hill Camp, the denser the half-human, half-ant monsters became. Narsen had inevitably encountered several groups. At first, he prepared for a fight, but these Ant-men seemed to have no interest in him, single-mindedly rushing toward Hill Camp. And so, puzzled, Narsen ascended the mound nearest to Hill Camp alone. The sight before him, however, sent him into a fury. Countless monsters had already overrun the settlement.

Hill Camp held a special meaning for Narsen. A mercenary’s life was fraught with danger and the pain of parting, but what tormented them most was the lack of a sense of belonging. When their services were needed, employers treated them like honored guests; once the mission was over, they were shunned like a plague. The War Bear Mercenaries were accustomed to battle and sacrifice, but they had long grown weary of a nomadic life. Hill Camp was their home. Narsen had personally witnessed its transformation from a crude camp into a beautiful village, and his heart swelled with pride and affection for it.

Now, not only had these ugly beasts destroyed his home, but they had also left the fate of his liege lord unknown! Hatred and self-blame ignited a raging fire in Narsen’s heart. He wished he could leap down right then and smash all these monsters to pieces with his twin axes. But as a seasoned warrior, Narsen knew that would be suicide. No one could charge into a horde of ten thousand monsters and expect to emerge unscathed, especially when these creatures showed no fear of death.

Doing nothing and turning tail was not Narsen’s style. He had never seen these half-human, half-ant monsters before. He had to test their strength and characteristics, and maybe kill a few to vent his anger. Having made up his mind, Narsen swung into action. He spurred his Swiftbird, leaping down from the hill, then found a hidden thicket and tied the bird to a branch. Narsen was brave, but never reckless. Securing an escape route before initiating an attack was a basic tactical principle.

Narsen slung his heavy battle-axes over his back and pulled two short spears forged from refined iron from his pack. He then lay prone behind a dense thicket, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Narsen had long since noticed that the Ant-men moved in groups. The smaller ones numbered over three hundred, the larger ones over five hundred. Most of these swarms were packed tightly together, but occasionally a group would stray from the main force. Narsen was waiting for a lone swarm to enter his attack range. He would use his spears to lure them over, kill a few, and then run.

A swarm of Ant-men appeared in Narsen’s field of vision. They had deviated from the path, and the nearest Ant-man swarm was over three hundred meters away. Clearly, these monsters lacked the patience to queue up and were trying to take a shortcut.

With a furious roar, Narsen burst out from the thicket like a cannonball, charging forward amidst a shower of broken branches. His muscles, as tough as iron, bulged prominently. With a powerful swing of his right arm, he hurled seven sharp, heavy javelins in just a few seconds.

The javelins, each over a meter long and weighing forty kilograms, were forged from refined iron. Propelled by Narsen’s monstrous strength, they shrieked through the air and landed in the middle of the Ant-man swarm over three hundred meters away. The swarm was so dense that aiming was unnecessary. The javelins, carrying terrifying kinetic energy, slammed into the Ant-men’s bodies. All seven spears hit their mark; some even pierced through two Ant-men, pinning them firmly to the ground.

The sudden attack excited the Ant-men. They quickly located the source of the assault and charged toward Narsen with shrill cries.

Narsen’s gaze hardened as he drew his two battle-axes, readying himself for close combat. Although Lilia had told him the Ant-men were aggressive and fearless, his heart still tightened as he watched the hideous monsters swarm toward him like wild bees from a disturbed hive.

Narsen did not turn and run. He wouldn’t be able to vent the foul anger in his chest until he had cleaved a few monsters with his axes. At the same time, Narsen had absolute confidence in himself. He had been observing these Ant-men for a while. The monsters were bare-handed, and while not slow, they definitely couldn’t catch him. There was still time to kill a few before escaping.

The Ant-men charged swiftly, covering the three hundred meters in just over twenty seconds. Seeing the creatures closing in, a bloodthirsty glint appeared in Narsen’s eyes. He crossed his axes and brought them down in a scissoring slash, and the three foremost Ant-men were cleaved in two at the chest. Without pausing, Narsen delivered a fierce straight kick, sending the corpses flying backward into the oncoming Ant-men, scattering them. With another roar, Narsen plunged into the swarm, his axes sweeping and chopping, carving a path of blood and gore.

As a mercenary who had grown up in battle, Narsen had never received formal martial arts training. His attacks were simple, direct, brutal, and deadly, and they relied heavily on sheer imposing force. Mercenaries who had cheated death time and again all understood one truth: when paths cross, the brave prevail. Only by risking one’s life to kill the enemy could one unleash extraordinary power in battle and strike such terror into the hearts of opponents that they lost the will to resist.

Narsen’s aura was as ferocious as a tiger’s. Against ordinary human warriors, fighting one against a hundred would not be impossible. But now he was facing Ant-men, special creatures with no individual consciousness or fear. Ant-men were born for battle. They would never break ranks due to the death of their comrades; facing a strong enemy only excited them further. It was their instinct.

Every time Narsen killed an Ant-man, its corpse released a pheromone. This chemical signal attracted the attention of other Ant-men and stimulated their desire to fight. The more Ant-men died, the stronger the pheromone became, and the more Ant-men were agitated. Inevitably, Narsen himself became coated in this pheromone, as if he had been marked. Any Ant-man that saw him would now attack.

Wave after wave of frenzied Ant-men flooded toward Narsen. In just a few seconds, his fighting space grew ever more confined, a situation completely contrary to his past experiences. When an Ant-man leaped down from a comrade’s back, Narsen knew he had to break through.

Narsen’s axe sent the pouncing Ant-man flying, but more were climbing over their kin to leap at him. From a distance, it looked as if a giant black wave was about to engulf him.

Narsen’s eyes sharpened. His powerful heart throbbed violently, and bulging veins popped on his gnarled muscles. His body spun at high speed, a dreadful gleam of his axes whirling around him, creating an unstoppable whirlwind of blades. A dozen Ant-men were shredded, their severed limbs and green blood spraying outward like a blooming flower of death. Seizing the opening created by the cleared space around him, Narsen retreated swiftly, turning and sprinting toward his Swiftbird.

The gruesome deaths of those dozen Ant-men spread the potent pheromone even further, agitating the swarms on the periphery. They shrieked and gave chase.

Originally, attracted by the pheromones, a massive number of Ant-men had gathered at Hill Camp. As more and more arrived, the small settlement became packed to overflowing. But they found no enemies there, which greatly confused the Commander Ant-men. Unlike the mindless soldier ants, the Commander Ant-men possessed a degree of intelligence. Periodically, they had to dispose of the aging soldier ants in their colony. At the same time, they needed to absorb a special power from killing enemies to feed the clan’s Queen Mother, which was the only way she could produce new offspring. Now, a mobile source of pheromones had caught their attention. Their simple intelligence told them that this was the enemy they had been desperately searching for. And so, under the command of their leaders, countless Ant-men began a grand, sweeping pursuit of Narsen.

Riding his Swiftbird, Narsen fled eastward, still unaware of the commotion he had caused among the Ant-men. The Swiftbird was in its element in the hilly terrain, and it quickly left the pursuing swarm behind. Narsen let out a sigh of relief and dismounted, but he staggered. A wave of exhaustion made him slightly dizzy—a side effect of overexerting himself to use a battle technique.

“What in the hell are these monsters?” Narsen cursed, his heart still pounding with fear.

His brief probing attack had nearly led him to a point of no return. Out of desperation, he had been forced to use a Knight’s battle technique: Whirlwind Slash. He had acquired this technique as spoils of war from that unlucky Knight. Although Narsen was a powerful Ferocious Warrior, using a Knight’s technique was still a great strain on him. Unlike a Knight’s elemental power, he had to fuel the devastating Whirlwind Slash with sheer physical strength, which placed an enormous burden on his body. Narsen could feel his bones groaning and all his muscles twitching. His body felt so sore and weak that he couldn’t muster an ounce of strength.

Narsen lay on the ground, panting heavily, trying to recover some stamina as quickly as possible while also letting his Swiftbird rest. Before long, tremors in the ground made him leap to his feet. The monsters had caught up. He quickly mounted his Swiftbird and resumed his desperate flight.

Running and stopping intermittently, Narsen finally realized he couldn’t shake the Ant-men, nor could they catch him. The problem was that he and his Swiftbird couldn’t keep running forever; they would eventually succumb to exhaustion. As he led the swarm in circles, Narsen desperately tried to think of a solution.

Unconsciously, Narsen rode his Swiftbird to the banks of the Black River. He led the bird to the water’s edge, took a few deep gulps himself, and splashed his face. Watching the river flow slowly southward, an idea began to form in his mind.

“Hill Camp is finished! But you won’t get off easy either!” Narsen spat resentfully, mounted his Swiftbird, and rode north along the riverbank. Five kilometers in that direction was Flatlake Village.

By the time Narsen reached Flatlake Village, the lookout posts had already spotted him. Bayr, flanked by his trusted men, ascended the battle platform, his expression grim as he watched the approaching Narsen. Bayr dared not underestimate the famous Bear of the Northlands; Flatlake Village’s fence would be no match for a powerful warrior on par with a Knight.

“Chief! What’s Narsen doing here all alone? Does he really think he can take Flatlake Village by himself?” Mark asked Bayr, a mix of confusion and indignation in his voice.

“He must be here to announce some order from the lord,” Bayr said coldly, not believing Narsen could be that arrogant.

As Narsen neared Flatlake Village, he saw that the drawbridge was raised and a dozen crossbows were aimed at him. It was clear Bayr and his men saw him as an enemy. Narsen’s gaze grew colder, a hint of mockery in his eyes.

“Bayr! Run if you don’t want to die! The monsters are coming!” Narsen shouted toward the village, reining in his mount just outside of crossbow range.

After shouting, Narsen turned his Swiftbird, galloped up a nearby mound, and quickly disappeared from Bayr’s sight.

Bayr and Mark stared at each other, completely baffled by Narsen’s actions.

“Has the Bear of the Northlands lost his mind?” Mark yelled.

“Trying to make me submit with a few dire wolves that can’t even siege a village? How ridiculous!” Bayr sneered with contempt. “It’s not the first time we’ve had a wolf problem in the domain. Those dire wolves have already gone north to build their dens. What threat could they possibly be to us now?”

“Let’s go!” Bayr ordered his men. Just as the words left his mouth, he felt the ground begin to tremble. His expression changed instantly.

“Chief! There are monsters!” the lookout on the watchtower shrieked, his voice laced with hysterical terror.

Bayr and Mark stared fixedly ahead. A black tide was surging toward them. Terrifying shrieks rose and fell, and the very earth trembled beneath their feet.

“There really are monsters!” Mark whispered, his face ashen.

————————————

From a watchtower, DeWitt watched Narsen on his Swiftbird, his brow furrowed. The family was here to mine Mithril and, yes, to harvest Purple Cane, but they had also supplied Baron Victor with grain. This kind of arrangement was based on an unspoken rule of avoiding direct confrontation. Although Narsen was of humble birth, he was a high-ranking figure in the barony. How could he be so reckless as to come here?

“Believe it or not! A huge horde of monsters has entered the territory. Run for your lives! I’m going to inform Earl Chapman now!” Narsen finished his shout, wheeled his Swiftbird around, and galloped off toward Earl Chapman’s domain.

“Is that guy sick in the head?” Berna said, dumbfounded.

“That big bird he’s riding looks pretty good. We should find a way to get a few. The Earl would definitely be pleased,” DeWitt said, clapping Berna on the shoulder.

Narsen rode like the wind, a cloud of dust in his wake, heading straight for Earl Chapman’s domain.

I could forgive you for digging up our silver mine! But you stole our Purple Cane too! I might as well send these monsters your way!

Chapter 108: The Radiant Sacred Warriors

The freemen’s temporary settlement was a hubbub of voices, with over three thousand people gathered in the short span of a month. The recent downpours had tormented them, and seizing the gap in the rain, people crawled out of their cramped shacks one after another to stretch their stiff bodies and wring out their soaking wet clothes.

Glyn stood on a rock, looking down at the chaotic crowd below, his face as dark as the storm clouds in the sky. Over the past few days, freemen had been pouring into the camp, two or three hundred at a time. It was obvious someone was organizing this in the shadows. Glyn made some quiet inquiries and found that these people were all freemen from Viscount Briart’s fief. He would never believe that Viscount Briart wasn’t scheming behind the scenes.

Thinking of the mission Earl York had given him, Glyn began to worry. It wasn’t just those mountain folk trying to take control here; even Viscount Briart had ill intentions.

“I can only take it one step at a time,” Glyn thought with a worried frown. He had already sent a subordinate back to Black Fortress Town to report the matter. If Viscount Briart truly had designs on Baron Victor, Glyn’s men were no match for him.

Glyn jumped off the rock and walked towards Claude. He had made up his mind: he couldn’t let the Sacred Warrior leave before reinforcements arrived. Since Viscount Briart had already made his move, only the Church could make his people hesitate. He had to buy some time. Otherwise, the Viscount’s men would surely take control of these freemen.

Bang!

Claude hammered a wooden stake deep into the ground. He was reinforcing a shack; the simple structures couldn’t withstand the torrential rain, and most had already collapsed.

Claude was up to his ears in work. He had been preparing to lead his team back, but several consecutive days of heavy rain had interrupted his plans. Claude and his team had no choice but to stay and organize disaster relief and maintain order. Fortunately, the local lord continuously sent supplies, allowing the freemen a moment to breathe.

Baron Victor’s actions deeply moved Claude. He now knew the Baron was not a rich lord, and these supplies and food were a considerable burden for him. At the same time, Claude was ashamed of his own recklessness. Most of the freemen gathered here had come because they trusted him, a Sacred Warrior. Just as Glyn had said, as long as he stayed, more people would keep coming. But before leaving, Claude wanted to do more for these people. He understood that even if he left, the people in this camp would not disperse immediately.

Claude straightened up, stretching his sore- Aches and pains. He hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in days, and even a Sacred Warrior couldn’t endure such continuous labor.

“Bansen, take a break,” Claude called out when he saw a middle-aged man still tirelessly repairing a shack. This man, Bansen, was the leader of the mountain folk who had recently joined the camp and was also a devout believer. It was with his cooperation that Claude had managed to compensate for his shortage of manpower. Bansen and his men had put in a great deal of effort during this storm, earning the Sacred Warrior’s respect.

“Mhm.” Bansen dropped his hammer and let out a long sigh. Whenever he was under great stress, Bansen would work nonstop. It was his habit, a habit shared by many simple farmers.

Bansen was under immense pressure right now. Narsen had suddenly left with his team, telling Bansen that a large horde of monsters had arrived in the fief. Hearing this news, Bansen wanted nothing more than to leave immediately. If there was anything farmers feared more than war, it was hordes of monsters. Bansen kept telling himself that he was no longer just a farmer; he was one of Lord Victor’s confidants, a high-ranking member of the fief, and he absolutely could not panic like a common farmer. His cowardly nature and his sense of duty plunged him into a state of anxiety and indecisiveness, and he could only relieve the pressure by working himself to the bone.

“Bansen, you don’t look well. Are you sick? Go have a bowl of root grass soup.”

Bansen’s pale face worried Claude. Unfortunately, Sacred Warriors could not use their divine arts on others. In this situation, even if a Sacred Warrior himself fell ill, he could only drink some herbal soup.

“I’m fine.” Bansen forced a smile at Claude, his gaze evasive. He didn’t know whether he should tell the Sacred Warrior the news.

Just as Claude was about to persuade Bansen again, Glyn walked over.

“Hey, Claude, Bansen.” Glyn greeted the two of them while wracking his brain, trying to figure out how to convince the Sacred Warrior to stay a while longer.

“Glyn!” Claude said with a smile. Over this period, he and Glyn had developed a decent rapport. The green Sacred Warrior was of course unaware that Glyn was deliberately trying to get on his good side.

Bansen, preoccupied, nodded his head in acknowledgment. He was in no mood to talk to Glyn right now.

“Uh, nice weather, isn’t it?” Glyn was frustrated to find he still couldn’t come up with a suitable reason to make the Sacred Warrior stay, so he just made casual small talk.

Claude looked up at the overcast sky, a hint of worry in his heart. It seemed this storm was making more than just Bansen sick.

From a distance, White watched Glyn, Claude, and Bansen, and curled his lip in disdain.

“My lord, that Bansen and Glyn seem to be on very good terms with the Sacred Warrior,” Fulin said softly as he approached White’s side. “With the Sacred Warrior supporting them, I’m worried…”

“Worried about what?” White rudely cut his subordinate off.

“The freemen from our fief make up more than half the people here, and we have dozens of our own men. So what if the Sacred Warrior is leaving? Even if he stays, what could he do? With a little encouragement from us, at least half of these people will follow us and charge in. You think the Sacred Warrior can stop that?”

White was not only from Viscount Briart’s fief, he was also an apprentice knight in service to the Viscount’s younger brother, Lord Knight Austin. This time, White was acting on Austin’s orders, deigning to mix in with the freemen at the settlement with the intent of organizing them to storm Victor’s fief.

As one of Austin’s trusted men, White knew the inside story. A prominent figure had promised that if Lord Austin could bring down Baron Victor, he would be granted a barony of his own. If this succeeded, White’s own power and status would rise with the tide. White knew that storming Victor’s fief would result in considerable casualties among the freemen, and that most of them were born and raised in Briart’s territory. But compared to the benefits at stake, Austin didn’t care about sacrificing a few daydreaming freemen, and White cared even less.

All of Glyn’s and Bansen’s attempts to win people over had been observed by White. In his eyes, Glyn was a freeman with some ambition, while Bansen was clearly a contingency plan set up by Baron Victor. This was obvious from the fact that Bansen had brought dozens of his own men with him.

White scoffed at the two of them scurrying around. To ensure success, Austin had secretly encouraged many freemen to try their luck in Victor’s fief and had mixed a large number of his own men in with the refugees. In truth, White already had control of the camp. If not for his apprehension of Claude’s background, White would have acted long ago. He didn’t want to stay in this filthy freeman settlement for a second longer. But thinking of Lord Austin’s instructions, White could only endure silently.

Just as the men were lost in their own thoughts, over three hundred villagers from Brick Kiln Village finally arrived. The sudden influx of so many people immediately drew everyone’s attention.

“Dean!”

Seeing Dean lead his subjects over with a panicked look, Bansen could no longer keep up his pretense. He rushed over and demanded, “Is it true there are a lot of monsters in the fief?”

“Bansen? What are you doing here? Weren’t you kicked out of the fief by my lord?” Dean exclaimed in surprise.

“What do you know? My lord deliberately arranged for us to leave the camp.” Dean’s surprised look made Bansen very pleased, and the frustration of being kicked out of Hill Camp was swept away. But the thought of the monster threat quickly dampened his triumphant feeling.

“Never mind me. Just tell me, is the story about the monsters true?”

“I don’t know! We received a message from Lord Victor and hurried over.” Although he wasn’t sure if Bansen was telling the truth, they were old acquaintances, so Dean recounted everything to Bansen in detail.

“What exactly is going on?” Claude walked over with a group of people, his expression serious. “Bansen, who are you people really?”

Bansen gave a bitter smile and explained, “Lord Claude, I heard you were returning to Black Fortress Town. To prevent any accidents, Lord Victor sent me to secretly maintain order among the freemen. You know, we can’t do this sort of thing openly, or it would draw even more freemen over.”

“Now, I’ve received news that many unknown monsters have appeared in the fief. Captain Narsen has already led his team back to provide support.”

Claude was no longer the reckless youth he once was. He could understand Bansen’s reasons for hiding his identity, but his main concern was the monsters.

“Monsters? Besieging Baron Victor? Are they those dire wolves?”

Dean said grimly, “It’s still not clear what kind of monsters they are. I think we should prepare to retreat.”

Claude hesitated. As a Sacred Warrior, it was his duty to eliminate monsters and protect the people. Now that monsters were besieging Baron Victor, he should lead his team to support him. But what about all these ordinary people here? Should he go and support the lord, or should he lead the people to retreat first? For a moment, Claude was at a loss.

Seeing this, White knew things were going badly. He believed this was clearly a play put on by Baron Victor’s men to scare all the freemen away. White gestured to his subordinate and shouted, “You’re all liars! You just don’t want us to join the lord Baron’s work point system!”

White’s sudden outburst stunned everyone. Before Bansen could react, White shouted again, “Listen, everyone! It was Lord Victor who gave us grain! It was Lord Victor who sent us straw raincoats and carriages! Lord Victor is a benevolent lord!”

“Now, Lord Victor is recruiting people. But some people don’t want us to join the work point system! They want to monopolize the land here!”

At White’s signal, the men Austin had planted also began to stir up the crowd.

“They must be lying to us! If monsters were really besieging the lord Baron, why aren’t they helping him defend the castle?”

“We want to join the work point system!”

“They used to be freemen just like us! Why can’t we become vassals?”

Stirred up by these men, the freemen’s emotions were ignited. The lack of food and clothing, the endless rain—they had suffered terribly. The threat of dire wolves made them terrified. Having traveled so far and endured so much, why couldn’t they join the work point system? Their feelings of injustice instantly turned into resentment. They shouted and cursed, and the huge wave of noise quickly infected everyone. The entire temporary settlement instantly spiraled out of control.

The chaotic scene caught Claude completely off guard. He roared at White, “Are you insane?”

White ignored the Sacred Warrior. He was going to lead the people to storm Victor’s fief directly! “There are so many of us, what are a few dire wolves? Let’s charge in! We want to join the work point system!”

“Let’s charge in!”

“If we stick together, the dire wolves won’t dare to show themselves!”

“We want to be vassals!”

Dozens of White’s subordinates echoed his call, constantly inciting the surrounding crowd.

The situation was completely out of control. Claude’s face changed drastically. Just then, a series of urgent hoofbeats sounded. A moment later, a dozen cavalrymen arrived, led by Lilia.

With a cold glance at the agitated crowd, Lilia barked at Dean and Bansen, “Take our people to Black Fortress Town! The monsters have already overrun Hill Camp! Leave immediately!”

Lilia wheeled her horse around and galloped away, surrounded by a dozen cavalrymen. Bansen and Dean didn’t dare hesitate. They immediately called for their men to form up and head towards Black Fortress Town.

Watching the people of Victor’s fief decisively leave the settlement, Claude was now fully convinced that there were indeed unknown monsters in this territory. He rushed to the front of the crowd and shouted, “Everyone, listen to me! There are definitely monsters in Victor’s fief, don’t go any further!”

Claude held great prestige among these refugees. Coupled with the fact that the villagers from Victor’s fief had unhesitatingly headed north, the freemen began to have doubts about the monster story. But White just sneered, “They’re putting on quite a show! We’ll believe it if Lord Victor himself leads the retreat! Even if there are monsters, what’s there to fear with so many of us? Didn’t we all work so hard to get here just to join Victor’s fief? Let’s go! We’re going to see Lord Victor!”

White puffed out his chest and led the way out of the settlement. Austin’s planted men also pushed and encouraged people within the crowd. And so, several thousand freemen surged forward after White, like stupid sheep who had lost all reason, ready to leap into a chasm if the flock led them there.

Claude stomped his foot in frustration. After a word with the other Sacred Warriors, he followed the crowd. No matter what, a Sacred Warrior could not stand by and do nothing while the populace walked into danger.

“Why aren’t you leaving?” Claude asked Glyn coolly as he caught up.

“I want to see what these monsters look like,” Glyn said with a grin.

Claude didn’t speak, just nodded slightly. The Sacred Warriors were not true fools. At this point, there was no need to question Glyn’s identity any further.

The vast procession continued for some time before it suddenly split like a river hitting a dam. The people at the back didn’t know what had happened, while those at the front felt as if plunged into an icy cavern. They had encountered a small group of half-human, half-ant monsters.

White stared at the few bizarre Ant-men, sucking in a cold breath. He hadn’t expected there to really be monsters here. Encountering so many living creatures, these scattered Ant-men instinctively approached the crowd, letting out probing hisses, right in front of White at the head of the column.

The Ant-men’s piercing shrieks and ferocious appearance startled White, who was right in the line of fire. Without a second thought, he pulled a dagger from his clothes and flung it. A flash of light, and an Ant-man’s head was instantly pierced. The other Ant-men immediately let out excited hisses and charged at White.

“Throw me a sword!”

White kicked one Ant-man away, caught the longsword thrown by his subordinate, and swung it in a silver arc that sliced two Ant-men in half, splattering him with green blood. Though the Ant-men fought fearlessly, they were no match for an apprentice knight armed with a sharp sword. White quickly cut down all the charging Ant-men.

Claude and the other Sacred Warriors rushed up. Looking at the monster corpses on the ground and the green-blooded White, their faces were grim and serious.

“Sir Knight, is this the outcome you wanted?” Claude asked coldly.

White’s eyes flickered, and he said nothing. After a long moment, his expression changed drastically, and he roared, “Retreat!”

Compared to the apprentice knight’s Perception, the Sacred Warriors were clearly a step behind. Only when White turned and fled did they hear the screeching in the distance. Soon, everyone saw it: thousands of Ant-men, like a black tide, were rushing towards them.

The crowd erupted into chaos. Several thousand freemen cried out, turned, and ran, while the thirty Sacred Warriors formed a line, standing firm and unmoving.

“Claude! Aren’t you going to run?” Glyn shouted at the Sacred Warriors.

“Glyn, you run! We will hold back these monsters!” As he spoke, Claude gripped his mace tightly.

“You’re insane! This is a meaningless death!” Glyn cursed. He didn’t know why, but after just a month together, he had come to see this foolish Sacred Warrior as a friend.

“Someone has to hold back the monsters. This is our duty as Sacred Warriors. Through sacrifice comes salvation.”

Claude’s eyes were bright and determined, and an imposing aura emanated from him that left Glyn speechless.

Glyn left. When he heard the Sacred Warriors begin their unified battle prayer, he couldn’t help but look back and see the endless tide of Ant-men swallow those foolish Sacred Warriors whole.

Radiant Sacred Warriors are all fools! Even their prayer is so stupid! When all is dark, only Radiance endures! It’s already damn dark, where’s the light supposed to come from? Glyn thought as he ran.

“Perhaps there really is a light…”

My mind is full of stray thoughts, and I don’t know how to put countless plot points into words. Is this writer’s block?

Chapter 109: Lilia in Despair

A caravan proceeded slowly along a wide road. A dozen well-armored cavalrymen rode in two columns at the head of the procession. Following three carriages were two squads of tall, brawny elite soldiers.

Nicole rode a particularly sturdy warhorse at the very front of the column. Her chestnut hair fluttered in the wind, her features were lovely and striking. Her suit of bright silver lady’s armor was elegantly designed, its form-fitting shape outlining her graceful curves. It was engraved with exquisite patterns, appearing both beautiful and tough. Thinking that she would soon see the man she adored, a faint smile touched Nicole’s lovely, petal-like red lips. The blend of feminine grace and a knight’s valor created a captivating charm, causing the surrounding cavalrymen to cast their gazes upon her from time to time.

Bruce poked his head out of the carriage window and looked on with a strange expression. He had never expected the ever-timid and shy Nicole to have such a showy side after becoming a knight. They were about to return to Black Fortress Town, yet instead of staying in her carriage, Nicole had donned her custom-made knight’s armor and mounted her warhorse, as if afraid someone wouldn’t know she was a female knight.

A full suit of plate armor for a knight was made of hundred-forged refined iron. Even a lady’s suit weighed 150 pounds. This weight was nothing to a knight, but wearing hard armor was uncomfortable nonetheless. Therefore, Bruce preferred to stay in his carriage wearing a comfortable hunting suit.

This time, Bruce and Nicole had escorted Master Edwin back to the Silver Spire in the distant Kingdom of Ayr. The round trip was over 8,000 kilometers and took six months. In truth, they could have returned to their family’s territory in just four months, but Master Edwin had intervened and asked a master smith from the Silver Spire to craft a custom suit of lady’s armor for Nicole. Because of this, they were delayed for nearly two more months.

Bruce was a knight, but he did not know that female knights and male knights are completely different creatures. They were almost home. If a female knight had beautiful new armor and didn’t show it off, was she even a female knight?

A lock of hair was wrapped around Nicole’s fair, slender fingers. In six months, her short chestnut hair had once again grown long, soft, and smooth. Whenever she toyed with her hair, Nicole would recall the moment Victor had rushed out when she was at her most desperate, and the courage he had shown against the ogre. That scene was deeply etched in her memory, never to be forgotten.

“What kind of expression will Victor have when he sees me again? That girl Lilia has probably become his personal handmaiden by now, right? With Lilia to keep him company, has he missed me at all?” The imposing Black Fortress was now clearly visible, but a hundred emotions churned in Nicole’s heart.

A group of galloping riders interrupted the female knight’s reverie. Nicole focused her gaze and saw that they were the family’s messengers. The three riders had also spotted Nicole’s party, and their faces lit up with joy as they reined their horses around and galloped toward the caravan. Bruce noticed the commotion outside and stepped down from his carriage.

“Lord Bruce! Lady Nicole!” The three stalwart riders dismounted and bowed to Nicole and Bruce.

“What has happened?” Bruce asked with a frown. Messengers with two horses per person surely carried urgent intelligence, and their heading straight for the caravan meant the message was for him and Nicole.

“The Earl has issued a Call to Arms, demanding all family knights return to Black Fortress. This is the Earl’s personal order.” The lead rider handed a parchment scroll to Bruce.

Taking the order from Earl York, Bruce and Nicole exchanged a look, both seeing the gravity and shock in each other’s eyes.

To rule their vast territory, lords implemented a feudal system. Since the income of a fief was primarily derived from land ownership, lords would grant a large portion of their property—including manors, villages, villagers, livestock, mills, and all other accompanying assets—to their vassals as a fief. In addition to paying annual tribute to their lord, vassals also had to train armed forces to protect their own fiefs. When necessary, they had to answer the lord’s summons and mobilize all their power to join the lord’s army. This was the Call to Arms.

As a knight of the York family, Bruce possessed a fief of seven thousand mu, one manor, one village, a horse farm, and over seven hundred subjects. Bruce not only had to organize production but also support twenty soldiers and train all able-bodied young men among his subjects. Normally, Bruce would serve the family and receive a knight’s annual tribute, but the family would not conscript the soldiers under his command. Once a Call to Arms was issued, however, Bruce had to lead all his armed forces, including his soldiers and all the militia, to join the family’s army and accept a unified command.

Issuing a Call to Arms meant that all adult male subjects in the family’s domain had to be armed for battle. Production activities within the territory would be reduced to a minimum, which would consume the family’s savings of many years. Therefore, a lord would never issue a Call to Arms unless it was a matter of life and death.

Bruce unrolled the scroll and read it carefully, his expression becoming exceedingly serious.

“Where are my wife and child now?”

The messenger answered respectfully, “My Lady has already arrived at Black Fortress Town with all of her villagers.”

Bruce breathed a sigh of relief. His wife was also an apprentice knight of the family; even in the face of such a disaster, she wouldn’t be as helpless as an ordinary person.

“What exactly happened?” Nicole asked Bruce.

Although Nicole was also a knight, she did not yet have a fief and thus would not receive a Call to Arms. However, Nicole was a disciple of the family’s Great Knight, Trisley, and also her vassal. At a time like this, she had to follow Trisley to fight for the family. Moreover, Trisley had funded and commissioned Edwin to customize a suit of knight’s armor for her, a cost of seven thousand Gold Sols alone. This demonstrated Nicole’s close ties with the family.

“A huge swarm of monsters has attacked the entire Centaur Hills. Baron Polta’s castle has been breached, and the Baron was killed in battle. Viscount Kovan’s fief has been overrun, his army annihilated. Only the Viscount and the knights under his command managed to break through. The family’s Fanged Legion has been severely crippled. Knight Fimit is dead. Knight Uwal is dead,” Bruce said gravely.

A wave of grief washed over Nicole’s heart. Fimit and Uwal were both knights of the York family and officers in the Fanged Legion. If even they had fallen, it meant the Fanged Legion had truly suffered a devastating blow.

“Let’s go! Back to Black Fortress!”

Bruce leaped onto a warhorse and charged toward Black Fortress. Nicole and all the cavalrymen followed close behind, the blood-red setting sun casting long shadows behind them. At this moment, if one were to look down from the sky, they would see countless groups converging on Black Fortress Town. The family’s Call to Arms had been issued; it was a time for everyone to unite as one.

————————————

The road south of Black Fortress Town was built along the bank of the Blackwater River. Several consecutive days of heavy rain had left the road exceptionally muddy. A troop of cavalry galloped towards Black Fortress Town, their sturdy warhorses snorting, their four hooves sending up great splatters of mud.

Lilia sat atop her warhorse, her face pale, her smooth forehead covered in fine beads of sweat. Yet, her bright eyes shone with a resilient light. Some people collapse in the face of hardship, while others are refined by it. The journey from Victor’s fief to Black Fortress Town, which should have taken more than twenty days, Lilia had shortened to just ten. The steely will she displayed moved even the cavalrymen guarding her. Black Fortress Town was now in sight. By the time they arrived, the number of cavalrymen by Lilia’s side had dwindled from the initial twenty-plus to just over ten. Not everyone could endure such a high-intensity march.

Lilia saw the south gate of Black Fortress Town, and she also saw the shadow of war. Squads of wagons laden with supplies drove into the town, while empty carriages drove out. The caravans that used to wait to pay taxes to enter the city were nowhere to be seen. The inns and stables that served the caravans were all empty, without a soul in sight. The city walls were teeming with people, all of them archers armed with crossbows. Looking east along the wall, countless people were using stones and earth to close a gap in the rampart, a spot originally reserved for the construction of an auxiliary fort.

The York family was preparing for a defensive battle! Who were their enemies? The image of an endless army of Ant-men appeared in Lilia’s mind, making her heart sink to the very depths.

After stating her identity, Lilia was not subjected to excessive questioning or delays. The soldiers guarding the gate directly told Lilia to go to Black Fortress and find Lord Max, the Scribe, who was in charge of receiving the families of lords seeking refuge.

With Kahn’s help, Lilia squeezed through the panicked crowd and walked towards Black Fortress. The buildings in the Trade District and the Vassal District had been demolished, the salvaged materials sent to repair the city walls. In their place, dense rows of shanties had been erected. It was clear the freemen from outside the city had also entered to seek shelter.

Inside Black Fortress, Lilia met Max. The scribe, who normally paid great attention to elegant etiquette, was now dressed in leather armor with a longsword at his hip, looking ready to go to the battlefield at any moment.

“Lady Lilia, I was just about to dispatch an envoy to Baron Victor’s fief. I didn’t expect you to have already arrived.” Max paused for a moment, then continued, “Was Victor’s fief attacked by monsters?”

“Yes, the monsters entered our territory through the entrance to the Great Marsh. The Hill Camp has already been overrun.”

Lilia bit her bloodless lips. Upon entering Black Fortress Town, she already knew that it wasn’t just Victor’s fief that had encountered a monster tide; it was a full-scale outbreak. Under these circumstances, how could she persuade the York family to send troops to support Victor?

Lilia composed herself and described the situation on the fief to Max in detail.

“Lord Victor is a true lord!” Hearing that Victor had held his ground until the very end to cover his subjects’ retreat, even Max couldn’t help but be deeply moved. He hadn’t expected the seemingly frail Baron Victor to possess such resolve and courage.

A lord abandoning their fief in a war against monsters and beastmen meant losing their legitimate right to ownership. Defending the fief and protecting the people was the foundation of the Radiant Church’s cooperation with the nobility. However, not many lords truly lived and died with their fiefs. Over thousands of years, knights had formed bloodlines; even if they lost their status as lords, they didn’t have to worry about finding another family to take them in. In truth, if it weren’t for protecting the Alchemy Tower, Victor would have fled long ago. Everyone understands the principle of sacrificing land to save lives.

“Lord Max, I hope the York family can help us clear the monsters from our fief,” Lilia requested, her voice hoarse. Although Victor was not a vassal of the York family, their interests were deeply intertwined. Moreover, Earl York held the title of Governor-General of the Centaur Hills and had a responsibility to help lords eliminate monsters.

Max was somewhat displeased. The family was at a critical juncture of life and death; how could they have the spare capacity to rescue Baron Victor, who was most likely already dead? Without a castle or knights, Max didn’t believe Victor could have survived the ant tide. However, Max had no intention of provoking Lilia. At a time like this, it was good to absorb more manpower. At the very least, the young woman before him still had over four hundred able-bodied young men, who would make for decent cannon fodder with a little arming.

Max pondered for a moment and asked, “Lady Lilia, how many monsters are in Victor’s fief?”

“Probably over twenty thousand, maybe more. I’m not entirely sure,” Lilia answered in a low voice.

Max shook his head with a bitter smile. “It’s definitely more than twenty thousand. There’s an exit from the Great Marsh in Victor’s fief, and there are a total of three such exits in the Centaur Hills. To be honest with you, the monsters that have poured out from the other two exits already exceed seventy thousand. The number of monsters that entered Victor’s fief won’t be less than thirty thousand, perhaps even more.”

“Baron Polta’s fief, which is connected to one of the marsh exits, has already fallen. The baron’s castle was breached, and Baron Polta was killed in battle. The other exit is in Viscount Kovan’s fief, which has also been occupied by monsters. The Viscount’s army was annihilated, and Viscount Kovan only barely escaped with his knights.”

“Right now, thirty thousand monsters are besieging Earl Teldrane’s castle, and Baron Vilpan’s castle is also under siege by monsters. So, we are temporarily unable to exterminate the monsters in Victor’s fief,” Max said with regret.

Watching large tears roll down Lilia’s cheeks, Max offered some comfort, “We have already requested aid from the Kingdom and the Church. Bishop Pello is on his way with the Sacred Warriors, and the Kingdom will certainly dispatch a knightly order to support us. When that time comes, we will definitely clear out the monsters in Victor’s fief. Before then, your people can take refuge in Black Fortress Town, but they must submit to our mobilization orders.”

“I want to see the Countess. Victor has something important to give her,” Lilia said in a low, firm voice. At this point, she could only place her hope in that brick, though she herself didn’t believe that such an unremarkable brick could be their salvation.

“The Countess is very busy right now. If you have something, I can pass it along for you,” Max said coldly, his patience with Lilia wearing thin.

“That won’t be necessary!” Lilia stood up and walked toward the door. Victor had instructed her that the brick must not be given to anyone else.

After walking out of Black Fortress, Lilia could finally hold on no longer.

The York family could barely protect itself; how would they extend a helping hand to Victor? Perhaps this brick was just an excuse Victor made up to get her to flee. At this thought, Lilia sank limply to the ground and began to sob softly.

“Lilia!”

A familiar voice made Lilia lift her blurry, tear-filled eyes. What she saw was the gallant figure of the female knight, Nicole.

Chapter 110: Who is the Enemy?

The next day, the sky was a washed blue and the sun shone brightly, yet a gloomy cloud hung over Black Fortress Town.

The York family’s Call to Arms had been issued. Family members scattered across the fief obeyed the command, abandoning all their castles, villages, and farms, gathering their soldiers and Villagers in Black Fortress Town. The town’s population had swelled to over eighty thousand, making the once-wide streets feel narrow and constricted. The threat of the monsters weighed heavily on everyone’s heart. Whether they were lowly freemen, usually haughty subjects, or high and mighty vassal lords, all were equally terrified.

“Look! It’s the Sacred Warriors!” a pedestrian shouted, pointing at the crowd that was suddenly parting.

On the street, three companies of Sacred Warriors were marching. They were clad in full chainmail, wearing coifs and leather helms, carrying one-handed halberds, with tower shields slung across their backs and maces at their waists. Marching in files of three and columns of one hundred, there were a total of three hundred Sacred Warriors. Their movements were perfectly synchronized, and though they numbered only three hundred, they projected an aura of unstoppable power.

“The Sacred Warriors! The Sacred Warriors of the Radiant Church!”

“The Sacred Warriors are here! We’re saved!”

“We praise you, Sacred Warriors of the Lord of Radiance! May the Lord’s glory shine upon you!”

With the appearance of the Sacred Warriors, the gloom that even the brilliant sunlight could not dispel melted away like ice and snow in spring. The pedestrians on the street quickly moved to the sides, clearing a wide path for them. Some devout citizens even knelt on the ground to kiss the footprints left by the Sacred Warriors.

The anticipation, praise, and admiration of the populace transformed the youthful faces of the Sacred Warriors, making them resolute and grave. An aura as solid and immovable as a mountain arose from them.

Bishop Pello followed quietly behind the Sacred Warriors, as nondescript as an old farmer. Looking at the imposing momentum of the warriors ahead, his eyes filled with both pride and sorrow. If nothing unexpected happened, these young Sacred Warriors would be sacrificed in the Centaur Hills. Yet, in their bright eyes, he saw excitement, elation, resolve, and courage—everything but fear.

All the Sacred Warriors knew they had been chosen to save the people, and for that, they had no fear of sacrifice. For seven thousand years, the number of sacrificed Sacred Warriors was well over one hundred thousand. they had blocked the charges of centaur tribes and faced the sweeping attacks of Ogre warlords. To protect the people, the Sacred Warriors were fearless and had never retreated.

As a high-ranking member of the Church, Pello knew the secret of the Sacred Warriors. They came from the common people, but not just anyone could become one. Only the most devout and radiant could awaken their holy power and gain extraordinary strength. The faith of the people was the source of holy power, holy power was the sword and shield of the Sacred Warriors, and the conviction to sacrifice for salvation was the strength that allowed them to wield that sword and shield. When a Sacred Warrior took up their blade, it meant they were prepared to die to protect the people.

To wear the crown is to bear its weight. This was the covenant between the Lord of Radiance and the first Pope. Without faith, there is no power; without conviction, power cannot be wielded. This was true for all clergy, and Pello was no exception. But in every battle against the Other races, it was always the Sacred Warriors who bore the greatest sacrifices. They were the true heroes.

Heroes were brave enough to make sacrifices, but they deserved to receive glory. The high-ranking and powerful Bishop Pello was willing to follow behind the Sacred Warriors like a farmer, letting these young men enjoy the reception befitting heroes. However, Pello also knew that the Church’s strength alone was not enough to fight back the surging tide of Ant-men. He needed to unite with the power of the Knights.

Led by an attendant, Pello walked into Earl York’s office, and his pupils immediately constricted. The Countess was dressed in a blue formal gown, her waist as slender as a willow, her long skirt sweeping the floor. She stood by the window, looking down upon all of Black Fortress Town. Her golden hair had turned a brilliant red, and her deep blue eyes were now rimmed with dark crimson, giving her a dream-like, magical allure.

Pello sighed and said, “Lady Sylvia, may the glory of the Lord of Radiance protect you.”

“Bishop, please sit.” Sylvia turned around with a radiant smile and glided gracefully to the table, extending a delicate hand to pour a cup of coffee for Bishop Pello. “This is coffee from Victor’s fief. Please try it. Perhaps we won’t be able to taste this unique beverage from the Centaur Hills ever again.”

Pello raised the cup and took a small sip, savoring the bitter taste within. He sighed softly, “Has the situation already become so grim?”

“Twelve days ago, these monsters we call Ant-men swarmed out of the Great Marsh and into the Centaur Hills. That same day, Baron Polta was killed in battle, Viscount Kovan’s fief was overrun, and Baron Victor’s fate is unknown. Afterward, the Ant-men conquered the fiefs of Baron Reodesi and Baron Tilak. Now, they are still besieging the castles of Earl Teldrane, Baron Vilpan, and Baron Eskri,” Sylvia said softly.

“Are the Ant-men that strong?” Pello was utterly shocked. He never imagined that in just a few days, so many lords would be defeated by the monsters, some without even a chance to call for help.

“An entire battalion of the Fanged Legion was wiped out while trying to reinforce Earl Teldrane. Two Knights were killed. Only Great Knight Giles and four apprentice knights survived,” Sylvia said grimly.

Pello was aghast. The Fanged Legion numbered only three thousand, but it was the York family’s most elite army. A thousand-man battalion led by a Great Knight had been completely annihilated, with two Knights lost in the fighting. Such a crushing defeat was more than enough to prove the formidability of the Ant-men.

“What do you plan to do?” Pello asked, his voice strained. He had hoped the York family could hold the Centaur Hills, forming a defensive line against the Ant-man army. To that end, the Church had already communicated with the Kingdom of Gambia and pledged to support them as much as possible. But now, it seemed the York family might not be able to hold on for much longer.

“Before the family makes a decision, I have a few questions for you, Bishop,” Sylvia said coolly, her gaze calm and profound.

A shiver went down Pello’s spine. he knew these questions would undoubtedly concern the York family’s final decision.

“Lady Sylvia, please speak,” Pello said with a serious expression.

“Did the Forest Centaur migrate because of the Ant-men? And just how much does the Church truly know about them?” Sylvia’s profound gaze grew as sharp as a blade, and her questions were just as difficult for Pello to parry.

After a long silence, Pello gave a bitter smile. “Lady Sylvia, please do not misunderstand. The Church was completely unaware that the Ant-men would attack the Centaur Hills.”

The Church’s monasteries did indeed have records about Ant-men, but they were from a very long time ago. Pello himself had only just learned the specific details. Regarding the York family’s Westward Migration to the Centaur Hills, the Church had absolutely no intention of setting them up. This misunderstanding had to be cleared up first.

Pello chose his words carefully. “As for the reason for the Forest Centaurs’ migration, the Church cannot be certain. As for the Ant-men…”

“According to the Church’s archives, fifteen hundred years ago, the legendary paladin Lord Fahirsild led his Sacred Warriors across the Great Marsh and into the Endless Forest in pursuit of the remnants of the Pantheon Cult. There, Lord Fahirsild encountered an empire of another race, an empire called the Assyrian Empire.”

“The Assyrians were cruel and evil, using living people for Blood Sacrifices. Lord Fahirsild destroyed their altar, and for this, he was hunted down by the Assyrians. In the end, only Lord Fahirsild escaped, and he later died from his wounds.”

“Originally, the Church prepared to form an expeditionary force to punish the Assyrian Empire, but the intelligence Lord Fahirsild brought back indicated that the Assyrians were fighting a terrifying monster. To prevent that monster from spreading to the human world, the Church abandoned its plans for an expedition. That monster was the Ant-man. I never thought these creatures would still invade a human kingdom.”

Sylvia snorted coldly. Although Pello was being evasive, she had still managed to piece together some of the truth. The Paladin Fahirsild, while hunting Wizards, had encountered the Assyrians. He discovered that they used Blood Sacrifice to gain the power to fight the Ant-men. So, he tricked them into trusting him, destroyed their altar, and was subsequently hunted by them. The Church could not tolerate Blood Sacrifice. However, at that time, the Church was at its weakest, mired in internal strife. To destroy a powerful empire of another race, they would have had to summon a Radiant Angel, but the Paladins had already usurped the Pope’s authority. Furthermore, the barbarians in the Terrel Mountains were also one of the Other races, powerful but not protected under the Radiant Code. The Church did not consider the Assyrians, who were also of the Other races, to be human, so the plan for an expedition was naturally abandoned. But without their altar, the Assyrian Empire had clearly been defeated by the Ant-men, and now the Ant-men were spreading into the Centaur Hills, right where the York family had settled.

Clearly, the entire affair stemmed from the Church not cleaning up its own mess, which had led to her family’s grievous losses. But Bishop Pello was not of the Paladin Faction; in fact, he had close ties to the Spire. Sylvia had no choice but to suppress her anger and ask coolly, “What has happened in the Northern Wildlands, on the eastern border of the Sasan Empire?”

“Why do you ask?” Pello asked after a long pause.

“If there wasn’t a problem with the Sasan Empire, the ones reinforcing the Centaur Hills right now would be the Radiant Knights, not a group of greenhorn Sacred Warriors being sent to their deaths! If I’m not mistaken, the Sasan Empire is already being threatened by beastmen—either a centaur tribe or an Ogre lord. You can tell from how the Sassans suddenly made peace with the Dodor people,” Sylvia chuckled lightly.

“I don’t know,” Pello said, shaking his head. Although he was a Bishop of the Church, he had been excluded from its core of power. The Radiant Knights had not informed him of the details concerning the Sasan Empire; they had only requisitioned many elite Sacred Warriors.

“Facing an army of one hundred thousand Ant-men, how does the Church plan to support us?” Sylvia asked in a heavy tone. This was the key to whether her family would stay or leave.

Pello considered for a moment, then said, “The Church is currently mobilizing Sacred Warriors from all regions. Within a month, no fewer than one thousand Sacred Warriors will enter the Centaur Hills. At the same time, Marquess Golan will lead the Swift Dragon Knights to support you.”

“If that is the extent of the Church’s support, I do not believe that we, the York family, can hold back the Ant-men.” Sylvia shook her head. “In the face of this disaster, the York family will give its all. But without sufficient support, we can only consider a retreat. After all, there are tens of thousands of people here. If the Forest Centaurs chose to migrate because of the Ant-men’s attacks, it means these attacks will come in wave after wave. This is a disaster for the entire human world, not something a single family can withstand. The only solution is to build a strong fortress at the entrance to the Great Marsh, and before that, the Ant-men in the Centaur Hills must be completely purged. To destroy the Ant-man army, the Church must mobilize the Radiant Knights. As for the Swift Dragon Knights, I do not believe they are capable of this.”

Pello knew that everything Sylvia said was a realistic assessment. The Swift Dragon Knights were powerful, but they were far inferior to the Radiant Knights. Moreover, it was not impossible that the Gambis Royal Family would secretly try to weaken the York family’s strength. If the York family chose to withdraw from the Centaur Hills, the situation in the human kingdoms would become unpredictable. The worst-case scenario would be the York family allying with Emperor Lant and going to war with Gambis to seek new lands for their survival. This was something the Church did not want to see.

“I will report the situation here to the Mountain of Light.” Bishop Pello stood up and walked toward the door. Before leaving, he gave the Countess a deep look and said, “Sylvia, the Church will do its best to support you, but the Church will not allow a civil war to break out in Gambis while facing a catastrophe.”

Sylvia walked back to the window. From here, she could see the entirety of Black Fortress Town before her.

“There is only one path: war! Perhaps against the Ant-men, perhaps against Gambis,” the Countess thought quietly.

Chapter 111: The Veil of a Knight

In the southern part of Victor’s fief, a Purple Cane forest near the banks of the Goldwater River looked as though it had been struck by a hurricane. The three-meter-tall Purple Canes were being snapped and flattened, making continuous rustling sounds.

Hundreds of ferocious Ant-men were pulling the Purple Cane stalks from the ground, gnawing at the roots with their hard mandibles. They casually tossed the sweet, juicy canes onto the ground, leaving a scene of utter chaos.

A sturdy giant wolf emerged from the Purple Cane forest, its green eyes fixed on the feeding Ant-men. With its hackles raised, muscles bulging, and fangs bared, it let out a low growl. At that moment, any creature with emotions could feel the giant wolf’s malice. The Ant-men reacted.

The few Ant-men closest to the giant wolf tentatively let out provocative hisses, trying to determine if this creature also possessed power they could absorb. When the giant wolf made no move to attack, the Ant-men lowered their heads and resumed gnawing on the Purple Cane. The giant wolf lunged forward, crushed the head of one Ant-man in a single bite, then turned and fled. In a flash, it had vanished into the dense Purple Cane forest. The Ant-men dropped the stalks in their hands and let out excited, bloodthirsty screeches as they gave chase on all fours. The swarm poured into the forest like a tide, leaving one special Ant-man exposed, like a stone on a sandy beach.

The Commander Ant-man did not try to control the soldier ants’ pursuit. It turned its head, got its bearings, and began moving toward the nearest Ant-man swarm.

Although Commander Ant-men possessed intelligence, they had to obey the Queen Mother’s directives. Until the soldier ants under its control were all expended, it could not return to the colony. Annihilating enemy combatants and destroying the enemy’s regenerative crops were the two ways Ant-men absorbed power. Compared to destroying crops, eliminating enemies wassimpler and more effective. Most importantly, battle could be used to expend the surplus soldier ants in the colony.

The lone Commander Ant-man had not gone more than ten meters when two more giant wolves shot out from the Purple Cane forest. Their bodies were a full size larger than the previous one, and their blood-red eyes were filled with a crazed light. They opened their bloody maws, revealing sharp, white teeth, and lunged straight for the Commander.

Commander Ant-men were fundamentally different from soldier ants. They would not actively engage in combat unless absolutely necessary, but the instinct for battle was deeply ingrained in their souls. Facing the fierce pounce of the two giant wolves, in a flash of lightning, the Commander Ant-man seized one wolf by the throat and lifted it into the air. The other wolf had already reached its side, its sharp fangs sinking viciously into the Ant-man’s foreleg, desperately trying to drag it down and prevent it from standing.

The Commander Ant-man let out a screech. With a great exertion of its arms, the giant wolf’s tough body was stretched taut, and the immense force tore it clean in two. A shower of blood obscured the Ant-man’s vision, but its compound eyes still caught the glint of a cold light speeding toward it. Ignoring the wolf tugging at its leg, the Ant-man retreated backward, dodging an arrow aimed at its chest. But before it could react further, another green crossbow bolt pierced its head.

In its final moments, the Ant-man screeched and threw its weight down upon the giant wolf still latched onto it. Its four arms wrapped tightly around the wolf’s body, and amid a continuous series of cracking sounds, the giant wolf was crushed into a pile of mangled flesh.

As the Ant-man choked the life out of the giant wolf, two figures leaped from the bushes opposite them. They crossed the hill with astonishing speed and disappeared into the dense thicket.

Victor and Shak ran into a valley, where they saw Reno and the Crouching Ox Militiaman, Cliff, waiting for them.

Leaping directly onto Reno’s back, Victor yelled, “Let’s go! Quickly!” The nine remaining Warhounds emerged and ran alongside, escorting Victor into the distance.

After running for nearly two hours, they finally reached a crude, secret encampment. Victor rolled off Reno’s back and lay flat on a giant bearskin, utterly spent.

“That was so damn exciting!”

He hadn’t felt nervous when he shot the Commander Ant-man, but now that he was in a safe place, Victor felt as if the last ounce of his strength had been drained away. He could only lie on the bearskin mat like a half-dead fish, gasping for air. But inside, he was filled with immense joy.

This was the second Commander Ant-man Victor had killed since the swarm began. For this operation, he had used one Alchemical Warhound to lure away the swarm, two more to entangle the Commander Ant-man, had Shak stage a feint, and then delivered the final, killing blow himself. Although the plan was simple, Victor had spent a full ten days formulating and implementing it, a process that included his observation and re-evaluation of the Ant-men.

After the Ant-men broke through Hill Camp, Victor had led Reno and the others down a steep slope to escape the upper camp. Guided by the alchemical crows, they rendezvoused with five Warhounds. To buy time for the retreat, all the Alchemical auxiliary soldiers had been sacrificed. Of course, the fact that the auxiliary soldiers were incapable of retreating down the nearly three-hundred-meter-high cliff was one of the reasons Victor had ordered them to hold the fence.

Fortunately, the Ant-men showed no interest in the Alchemy Tower. A day later, another eight Alchemical Warhounds had trickled in to join Victor. In the end, Victor was left with only Reno, Shak, Jack, Cliff, Linden, and Dulu—a total of six militiamen—along with thirteen Warhounds and seventeen alchemical crows.

Victor began to investigate the Ant-man situation within his fief. He dispatched twelve alchemical crows to patrol the entire territory, eventually confirming that there were over thirty thousand Ant-men present. Besides Hill Camp, Flatlake Village, the freemen’s settlement, and the Chapman family camp had all suffered devastating attacks. The Ant-man army had split into four groups: a large force went directly to Earl Chapman’s domain, another to Viscount Briart’s Fief, and a third to Baron Eskri’s domain. The last group, numbering around seven thousand, remained here, primarily lingering on the banks of the Goldwater River.

Victor found a concealed hill and observed the Ant-men from a distance. To his surprise, he discovered that the Ant-man swarms were fighting the Fishmen. As soon as the ugly Fishmen saw the bizarre Ant-men invading the riverbank, they would charge up to attack, only to be torn to shreds and devoured by the swarm. More Fishmen would then crawl out of the river to attack the Ant-men. When their numbers were reduced by half, they would flee back into the river. After some time, the Fishmen would emerge again to clash with the Ant-men. This scene repeated daily, and the banks of the Goldwater River were stained a revolting mix of red and green with the blood of Fishmen and Ant-men. Seeing the Fishmen suffer the same bloody fate as him, Victor felt a sense of schadenfreude. He even hoped the two monster species would keep hurting each other until they mutually annihilated.

However, three days later, Victor witnessed a decisive battle between the monsters. Led by a giant Fishman, a dense horde of Fishmen charged out of the Goldwater River. They outnumbered the Ant-men and crushed two swarms in their initial assault. Then the Ant-men counterattacked. The swarms charged forward, fearless of death. After just a few dozen minutes, the Fishmen broke, and the giant Fishman was torn to pieces by the swarm. From then on, fewer and fewer Fishmen came ashore, while more and more Ant-men were drawn to the riverbank.

During this shocking monster-on-monster war, Victor noticed two details. First, the Commander Ant-men never once took the initiative to join the battle. After the initial swarms were annihilated, two Commander Ant-men broke out of the Fishmen’s encirclement and fled at astonishing speed toward the entrance of the Great Marsh to the west. Second, the Ant-men used weapons in battle, mainly spears and crossbows from Hill Camp. Their use of these weapons could be described as proficient, and the combat effectiveness they displayed sent a chill down Victor’s spine.

After the Fishmen were routed, the battles on the bank became increasingly sparse. The bored Ant-man swarms began to destroy the Purple Cane, but as soon as a fight broke out on the bank, they would rush back. And so, the swarms began a life of “fight monsters when there are monsters, chew Purple Cane when there aren’t.”

Victor resolved to test whether the Commander Ant-men would attack proactively. He sent a Warhound to attack a swarm. The swarm pursued the Warhound relentlessly, while the Commander Ant-man indifferently ran toward another swarm.

When that Warhound returned, a shocking scene occurred. The other Warhounds let out threatening growls and refused to let it approach. Then, the alchemical crows began to issue warnings: the Ant-man swarm was right behind it. The Warhounds’ strange behavior made Victor realize with a start: their wild instincts were telling them that their companion was dangerous, and the danger came from the green blood it was stained with. After sacrificing this Warhound, the Ant-man swarm indeed retreated.

To test the Ant-men’s tracking methods, Shak, under Victor’s orders, shot an Ant-man from a great distance with a crossbow and then moved to a new position. The swarm quickly gathered around the dead Ant-man’s body, circling it continuously. Eventually, led by the Commander Ant-man, they searched in the direction the arrow had come from but failed to track the Alchemical militia.

Several subsequent tests led Victor to three conclusions: First, in battle, a Commander Ant-man will not be the first to attack, instead prioritizing control of the swarm. Second, Ant-men rely on the scent of their own kind to lock onto and hunt their targets. Third, the Ant-men’s use of weapons, their fire-extinguishing efforts, their destruction of the Purple Cane—any behavior that demonstrated intelligence—depended on the Commander’s control. Beyond that, they possessed only simple instincts.

With this understanding, Victor implemented his latest hunt. The combat prowess displayed by the Commander Ant-man left him with lingering fear. An Alchemical Warhound with 18 Physique was like paper in the Ant-man’s hands. If the operation had failed, the remaining nine Warhounds would have had to move in to hold back the Ant-man, and Victor would have had no choice but to flee the fief with his few Alchemical militiamen. Fortunately, this time, the operation was a success!

Once his racing heart calmed down, Victor asked Reno, “Big guy, how many Thorium crossbow bolts do we have left?”

“My lord, there are eleven Thorium crossbow bolts left,” Reno replied in his deep, booming voice.

“Is that all we have left?” Victor muttered to himself with a frown.

If a Warhound was sacrificed, the Alchemy Tower could replenish it. But the Thorium crossbow bolts were a finite resource. Once they were used up, Victor would no longer be able to hunt Commander Ant-men.

“I wonder if Blackfeather has found Lilia? If Sylvia receives the intelligence I sent, she should dispatch a Great Knight to help me hunt the Commanders, right?” Victor thought to himself as he gazed up at the sky.

——————————

Nicole gave the suit of knight’s armor hanging on its rack one last caress, then picked up her longsword and pushed open the door. The corridor was bustling with fully armed attendants. In the face of disaster, these children of vassals would fight for their family. But Nicole had to leave Black Fortress to save the man she loved.

At the exit of the corridor, a petite, delicate figure blocked Nicole’s path.

“Tutor Trisley?!” Nicole stammered. Being caught by her own tutor while deserting filled Nicole with shame.

“I came to see you off!” Trisley said softly after looking at Nicole quietly for a moment. Her clear voice was filled with reluctance and affection.

Nicole hadn’t expected Trisley to be here to see her off. The family had raised her for twenty-two years, yet she was choosing to leave in its most perilous moment. Shame and unease made tears fall from Nicole’s eyes like pearls.

“You’re already a Knight, so why are you still a crybaby like when you were little?” Trisley chuckled, gazing at her most beloved disciple.

“I’m sorry, Tutor. I want to go save him,” Nicole said in a mumble, her head bowed.

“Nicole, do you know what is most important for a Knight?” Trisley asked in a solemn tone. Before Nicole could answer, she continued, “The most important thing for a Knight is to hold fast to one’s own beliefs.”

“Fimite is dead! Uval is dead too! They could have broken through, but Fimite chose not to. He chose to avenge his fallen disciple, while Uval chose to face death with his brothers. This is their belief, and it is the belief of a Knight!”

“Earl Teldrane is a Silver-rank Great Knight. He has the strength to break the blockade, but he chooses to defend the castle because his wife and children are still inside. This is also his belief.”

“We Knights cannot choose our own destiny, so what is the point of cultivating Aura? Therefore, even though I know you are going to your death, I will not stop you. If I were to stop you, I would be cutting off your path as a Knight.”

Nicole looked up at her tutor and bowed deeply. “Thank you, Tutor.”

“Don’t thank me. This is what My Lady asked me to tell you,” Trisley said, shaking her head. “Sylvia will not dispatch anyone to help you rescue Baron Victor, and you shouldn’t blame her. The family will not force a Knight to undertake a mission that is certain death.”

“I understand,” Nicole said with a soft nod.

“The brick Baron Victor sent is priceless, but under these circumstances, it is not as valuable as the intelligence Lilia told us about,” Trisley said with a sigh.

When Sylvia received the special brick, she too let out a long sigh. In normal times, a brick comparable to greystone would have been enough for the York family to grant Victor many conditions. But in a matter of life and death, Sylvia couldn’t possibly let her family’s soldiers fight the Ant-men in an open field battle; there was no chance of victory. What’s more, Victor might already be dead. In comparison, the intelligence that the Ant-men feared fire made Sylvia ecstatic.

Nicole’s head drooped in sorrow. She also knew that going to Victor’s fief was tantamount to suicide. Facing tens of thousands of monsters who were not afraid of death, even a Gold Knight would be helpless. But Nicole just wanted to do it.

Trisley gazed deeply at Nicole. Perhaps this would be the last time they would meet. She decided to lift the veil of a Pinnacle Knight for Nicole. Even if Nicole never had the chance to become a Gold Knight, at least she would have heard it once.

“Nicole, do you know the difference between a Gold Knight and a Silver Knight?”

Nicole shook her head in surprise. She had asked this question before, but Trisley had never answered.

“A Silver Knight can condense elements from the void, whereas a Gold Knight can draw elements from the Elemental Sea. Therefore, for a Knight, disturbing the Elemental Sea is equivalent to stepping through the door to the pinnacle. When you broke through during the Trial of Life and Death, it meant you had disturbed the Elemental Sea. That’s why you were able to cut off the Ogre’s head with a single strike.”

Trisley couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret. Although Nicole’s talent was average, she had disturbed the Elemental Sea. In this respect, her path to advancement was much easier than that of other Knights, yet she was determined to throw her life away.

“However, opening the door does not mean you have become a Gold Knight. The path beyond the door is fraught with peril,” Trisley said, pausing for a moment before continuing. “The power of the Elemental Sea is so vast. If a Knight does not have a firm conviction, they will only be assimilated by the elemental power. Therefore, a Gold Knight must be resolute in their path. Only an unyielding will and belief can allow a Knight to command the power of the Elemental Sea. This is also why I cannot stop you.”

“Even so, a Gold Knight does not dare to mobilize the power of the Elemental Sea at will. Each time they use this pinnacle power, the Knight must be extremely cautious. The slightest lapse in concentration could cause them to be overwhelmed and burst apart by the elemental power. Compared to the infinite Elemental Sea, our physical bodies are simply too insignificant.”

“It is said that after a Gold Knight steps into the legendary realm, they can open an Elemental Domain, and using the power of the Elemental Sea no longer carries such great risks,” Trisley said with a sigh, shaking her head. The legendary realm was even more ethereal than reaching the pinnacle.

“Doesn’t that make a Legendary-rank Knight an invincible existence?” Nicole asked, her mind drifting in fascination.

“Theoretically, yes. A Gold Knight has no upper limit on how much power they can draw from the Elemental Sea; it’s all a matter of their own control. A Gold Knight wouldn’t dare use this uncontrollable power often. Normally, they only use the power of the void’s elements, which is no different from a Silver Knight.”

“The advantage of a Legendary Knight is very clear: they can stably draw upon the power of the Elemental Sea, which means they are, at all times, a Gold Knight. But this power is constrained by their Elemental Domain, so it has an upper limit. If a Gold Knight were to fight a Legendary Knight to the death, the Legendary Knight could still be injured, or they could even perish together. A Pinnacle Knight is a Pinnacle Knight. Even a Legendary-rank cannot look down on them.” Trisley said proudly, “At the very least, that fellow Neowist must be humble and cautious when he sees My Lady.”

Nicole couldn’t help but be secretly dumbfounded. She only knew that My Lady was an incredibly powerful Gold Knight, but she never imagined that even Emperor Lant could not overpower her.

“Go,” Trisley said, embracing Nicole. “Nicole, you must remember: without a strong mind, you cannot wield great power. This is our path to the pinnacle.”

Just as the tutor and disciple were pouring their hearts out to one another, Lilia pushed past several guards and shouted to Nicole, “Big Sister Nicole! Victor is alive! He’s still alive!”

“Where is Victor?” Nicole rushed toward Lilia and asked anxiously.

“This is a letter delivered by Blackfeather. Victor wrote it himself. He’s alive!” Lilia took out a letter and handed it to Nicole. As she spoke, tears streamed down the young girl’s face—tears of joy.

Looking at the familiar handwriting, Nicole’s eyes also welled up with tears. She handed the letter to Trisley and said, “Tutor, Victor has important intelligence.”

After reading the contents of the letter, Trisley’s expression changed. She said to Nicole, “We must see My Lady at once!”

Chapter 112: Lingering Imperial Might

In Black Fortress, within Earl York’s office, five men sat around a long walnut table. Some were mighty, some桀骜, some handsome and elegant, others plain and simple, but they all shared a common trait: a striking self-confidence. It was as if any one of them could be the center of the room. The five men constantly emanated powerful presences, and the unceasing collision of these intangible forces would make an ordinary person feel an immense pressure.

There were no ordinary people in the room. The only one without any power, Earl York, was no ordinary man either—he was the leader of the family, even if only in name. The powerful knights tacitly refrained from extending their auras toward Earl York, which made him quite pleased. Of course, he sat so steadily because Sylvia was standing right behind him.

Sylvia’s delicate, slender hands rested on the back of Earl York’s chair. She was gentle and serene, her long, bright red hair cascading over her shoulders, as dazzling as a flame. To the Great Knights, however, this beauty represented a power unattainable by ordinary people. The balanced circulation of the four great elements formed the stable body of a Knight, and manipulating the elements from within was the normal state of their power. For Sylvia to be influencing them from the outside-in meant that the Elemental Sea was now in a stable connection with her, and that the endless elemental power was forming a new equilibrium within her body. This indicated that Sylvia had already stepped half a foot into the legendary realm—a state that every Knight dreamed of achieving.

Sylvia watched the five Great Knights of the family vying openly and covertly, and she couldn’t help but smile faintly. There was no hostility between them; this was simply the natural reaction of a Knight’s will. Every Great Knight had their own path; they were equally powerful and equally unwilling to be influenced by others. Nevertheless, the looks of reverence from these Silver Knights pleased Sylvia. In truth, her connection to the Elemental Sea wasn’t a display of power. At this critical juncture of the family’s survival, she needed to make accurate judgments about the situation, and the fire element, which represented Spirit, could sharpen Sylvia’s mind.

Including Trisley and Terlanden, the family possessed seven Great Knights, twenty-six Knights, and one hundred seventy-one apprentice knights. Such strength could rival that of any kingdom’s knight order! A surge of pride swelled within Sylvia at this thought. Her beautiful eyes swept over the knights present as she said in a clear voice, “Gentlemen, regarding the family’s future, please share your opinions.”

The five Great Knights exchanged glances. Giles stood up, bowed to Sylvia, and said, “My Lady Sylvia, I believe we should abandon the Centaur Hills and negotiate with the August family to seek a new territory.”

“Giles, do you believe the kingdom has a territory as large as the Centaur Hills to give us?” Viscount Fredrick York scoffed. Fred was extremely satisfied with the Centaur Hills. The land was half the size of the Kingdom of Gambia, with fertile soil and a pleasant climate. He was truly unwilling to give it up. Moreover, the family had spent an immense amount on the construction of Black Fortress Town. Withdrawing now would mean immeasurable losses.

Fred stood up and said, “A thousand years of the family’s accumulated wealth have been poured into the Centaur Hills. Abandoning it means abandoning Black Fortress Town, abandoning fourteen castles, and abandoning enormous wealth. Even if we get a new fief, we won’t have the funds to rebuild the infrastructure. It likely won’t be long before we are reduced to a second-rate family.”

The fat on Earl York’s face trembled, and his small eyes darted about. He quickly calculated a rough loss of eight hundred thousand Gold Sol, a number that broke his heart.

“Fred, tell us your thoughts,” Sylvia said, raising an eyebrow at the Viscount.

A flicker of delight appeared in Fred’s heart. He said in a deep voice, “The Ant-men are indeed a great deal of trouble, but they are merely trouble. Because, of all the monsters, the Ant-men are the stupidest!”

“Indeed, we can’t fight them in open battle, but we have no need to go out into the wilds to exterminate these monsters! Has everyone noticed? The Ant-men have been attacking the castles without any regard for their own casualties. As long as we defend the castles, we can wait for these Ant-men to throw their lives away. Especially now that we know they fear fire—a single fire arrow can ignite an Ant-man. A hundred thousand Ant-men will soon suffer heavy casualties. Once their numbers are reduced to a certain level, we can send out our army to encircle and annihilate the ones in the wild.”

Fred paused, then continued, “This Ant-man tide hasn’t just caused losses for our York family; the Prince’s Faction’s losses are even greater! Their castles are too low, some less than twenty meters high, so they can’t hold them. This is our York family’s opportunity!”

“The Church needs us to quell the Ant-man disaster, and Gambia needs us to be a barrier against them! Therefore, we can use this to negotiate terms with them. We can take full possession of the Centaur Hills and have the kingdom compensate our losses. Not only should they waive the annual tribute, but they should also provide us with various supplies every year as payment for us resisting the Ant-men. At the same time, we’ll have the Church help us build a fortress at the entrance to the Great Marsh. As long as we block those three entrances, these foolish Ant-men will instead become a bargaining chip in our hands!”

The entire Centaur Hills belonging to the family! The annual tribute waived! Receiving various supplies every year! A free fortress! These terms made Earl York’s heart bloom with joy, and he even found his younger brother, with whom he usually clashed, a little more agreeable.

The other Great Knights were also tempted. If things truly went as Viscount Fred described, the family could basically be called a kingdom in its own right. No wonder Fred was unwilling to give up the Centaur Hills. How many could resist such a temptation?

But Giles shook his head and said, “The Ant-men are not such simple monsters!”

Fred pursed his lips. Though he said nothing, his disdain was palpable, as if to say Giles had been scared witless by the Ant-men. A look of indignation flashed across Giles’s face, but the thought of his fallen comrades-in-arms made his expression darken again. After all, the thousand soldiers of the Fanged Legion had been wiped out under his command.

As Giles fell silent, he noticed Sylvia looking at him, her shimmering eyes filled only with encouragement. A warmth spread through Giles’s heart, and he said in a deep voice, “The Ant-men are more terrifying than we imagine. Their individual strength is comparable to that of an elite soldier, and they feel no fear. Nor are they devoid of intelligence! The Ant-men besieging Terlanden have already begun to equip themselves with the weapons we left behind and are using shields to block fire arrows. At the same time, they are piling up earth next to the castle. They clearly intend to build a ramp as high as the city walls. This shows that the Ant-men have the ability to learn and even conduct sieges!”

“I must also remind you all not to forget that there are over one hundred thousand of them! What does an organized force of one hundred thousand fearless, learning, siege-capable monsters mean? I don’t need to spell it out for you to understand!”

Everyone’s expression turned grave. Even though the Ant-men feared fire, a force of one hundred thousand was still a despairing number. In human history, there had never been a war on the scale of one hundred thousand combatants. Powerful individuals had always kept the scale of war small; an armed force of knights could shatter the will of an ordinary army with just a few charges. Only in fortress sieges could ordinary soldiers play a significant role. But these Ant-men felt no fear and could not be routed. A Knight’s Aura would eventually be exhausted, and once surrounded by the Ant-man army, even the most powerful Knight would face certain death. If these monsters truly had the ability to siege fortresses, then it was not something the York family could handle.

Fred pondered for a moment before speaking. “Giles, your claim that the Ant-men have intelligence is likely an exaggeration to cause alarm. So far, the Ant-men have only breached two castles, and they did so by literally piling up the bodies of their comrades. This suicidal behavior, which led to thousands of Ant-men being crushed to death by their own kind, is absolutely not something an intelligent creature would do! Furthermore, the Ant-men frantically besiege castles but ignore the fleeing commoners. Their behavior is more like they’re seeking battle! Or perhaps, seeking death! Would an intelligent creature seek its own death?”

Giles’s voice was strained as he said, “Ordinary creatures don’t seek death, but intelligent beings do! Don’t forget how family wars between lords start. Or how goblin tribes charge human fortresses. This actually proves that the number of Ant-men is astonishingly large! They are likely culling their excess population! The suicidal behavior of the Ant-men is quite similar to that of wild bees, and insects reproduce at an astonishing rate. Perhaps in a few years, more Ant-men will attack the Centaur Hills. Maybe the Forest Centaurs migrated precisely to escape their frequent attacks.”

It was because he had suffered a crushing defeat that Giles paid extra attention to intelligence on the Ant-men. His understanding of them surpassed everyone else’s, and his conclusions were shocking.

Centaurs were a very powerful type of beastmen. They were tall and sturdy, possessed superior strength, moved like the wind, and were skilled with javelins and bows. In the wild, only the thick-skinned Ogres could stand against them. Centaur javelins and arrows had little effect on Ogres, but the Ogres could only retaliate by throwing rocks, as they could never catch up to the Centaurs.

Forest Centaurs were slightly weaker in physique than their cousins, but their combat capabilities far surpassed them. As the Forest Centaurs were herbivores, their population was large, and their civilization was more advanced. This meant they were more organized and better equipped. If not for the peaceful nature of the Forest Centaurs, it was uncertain whether the Kingdom of Gambia could even have been founded.

If the Forest Centaurs had truly migrated because of the Ant-men, then the Ant-men’s strength was terrifying. At this thought, the faces of everyone present turned ugly.

Sylvia chuckled lightly. “Let’s not frighten ourselves. I’m more inclined to believe the Forest Centaurs migrated on their own. The Ant-men are no match for them!”

“When we first entered the Centaur Hills, the Purple Cane forest was perfectly preserved. This indicates that the Ant-men had never broken into the Centaur Hills. In other words, the Forest Centaurs had been exterminating the Ant-men outside the hills. Furthermore, we haven’t found any abandoned weapons or equipment from the Forest Centaurs in the hills. This suggests that the Forest Centaurs most likely responded to the Elves’ call to join the war in the Endless Forest. Of course, that is not our concern.”

Sylvia then spoke with a serious expression, “It was the migration of the Forest Centaurs that allowed the Ant-men to invade the Centaur Hills! On this point, Bishop Pello and I have reached a consensus! The Church dealt with the Ant-men as far back as one thousand five hundred years ago, and the Ant-men had already destroyed a non-human empire! Therefore, we cannot deal with the Ant-men with our strength alone.”

Earl York said anxiously, “Then what should we do? Sylvia, we should evacuate as soon as possible!”

“Whether we retreat or stay will be decided by the situation! Monsters like the Ant-men are a great enemy to the entire human world. If the Church dispatches the Radiant Knights to support us, and the kingdom helps us build a giant fortress at the marsh entrance, then we will shoulder the responsibility of defending the human world! But if someone wants to use this to lead us to our doom, they can dream on!” Sylvia said coldly. “The Church forbids us from starting an internal war! That’s fine! But could the Church possibly stop us from protecting the one hundred thousand people of the Centaur Hills by evacuating them to the Royal Capital of Gambia?”

Sylvia’s ruthless decisiveness sent a jolt through the five Great Knights.

If the Radiant Knights did not come to support the Centaur Hills, it would mean the Church’s forces were tied down in the Sasan Empire. This would be the perfect time to start a family war! The August family would never tolerate the entire York family migrating to the Royal Capital, but if the family did so in the name of protecting the people, it would be perfectly in line with the Church’s requirements. The August family would be damned if they started a war and damned if they didn’t. And Neowist would absolutely seize this opportunity to restore the Randt Empire. With threats from within and without, the August family would be toppled from the throne.

One could say that Sylvia’s move had the August family by the throat. It was a perilous gambit, but also a brilliant move to find life in the face of death. Who asked the August family to be treacherous in the first place? The knights of the York family could no longer trust the royal family of Gambia at all. If you don’t let me live, I’ll make sure you die! That was the style of the York family.

Watching the Great Knights, each now showing a look of excitement, Sylvia sighed inwardly. She didn’t actually want to go to war with the August family. With the Sasan Empire unable to look south, the reaction of the Dodor Kingdom and the Kingdom of Naville to a restoration war was unpredictable. But to let the family face the Ant-men alone was absolutely unacceptable!

The Centaur Hills were on the edge of the human kingdoms. Occupying it meant being in an invincible position. If only the Centaur Hills didn’t have the threat of the Ant-men! Sylvia thought with a sense of longing.

Sylvia composed herself and announced loudly, “Regardless of how the situation develops, we must rescue Terlanden! Once the Sacred Warriors of the Radiant Church have assembled, I will commit our full strength to a battle with the Ant-men! This time, I will personally take action! Does anyone have a problem with that?!”

A chill ran down the spines of the five Great Knights. They stood up and said solemnly, “We are willing to die for the family!”

The Terlanden family was a vassal of the York family and had followed them for over six hundred years. The Earl himself was a Silver-rank Great Knight. The family had to rescue him, even at great cost. It was a matter of the family’s cohesion; there was no other choice.

Bang!

Under the astonished gazes of the crowd, Trisley pushed the door open and walked right in. She said in a deep voice, “Sylvia, Baron Victor is still alive! He has sent important intelligence!”

Taking the sheepskin letter, Sylvia read it carefully, her eyes flashing. She then passed the letter to the knights at the table, gesturing for them to read it in turn.

“What?! The Ant-men have a commander! If we kill it, the swarm will collapse?!” Giles cried out in shock.

“If this is true, this is our chance!” Fred said excitedly.

“How do we find them?” asked Harnas, a Great Knight who had recently joined the York family, frowning.

Sylvia said calmly, “I will know once I go and try! Everyone, go and prepare. We’re going to see if this intelligence is true.”

When everyone had left the room, Sylvia pinched the sheepskin letter and murmured to herself with a smile, “Victor, you’re still alive. That’s wonderful!”

Chapter 113: The Queen of Roses

A long, flaming arrow streaked across the sky, piercing an Ant-man’s body like a shooting star and turning it into a human torch.

“Nice!”

“A direct hit, my lord Earl!”

“Burn, you beasts!”

The soldiers on the walls roared their approval for the middle-aged man who had just loosed the arrow. This man, Earl Terlanden, was not tall but had a well-proportioned build, his chiseled features defined by sharp lines.

Standing atop the wall, Terlanden fired several more fire arrows in quick succession, igniting the Ant-men who were hauling earth one by one. His precision shooting sent the soldiers into loud cheers. However, as he looked down at the dark, crushing tide of the Ant-man army below the castle, a wordless weight settled in his heart. There was still a good amount of fire oil left in the castle, but their arrows were running low, while the Ant-men below continued to build up their earthen ramp with a cold, unfeeling order.

“Perhaps Longstone Keep will be the first castle breached by monsters using siege tactics. It might even be recorded in the annals of the Spire!” Terlanden thought with a bitter smile, standing atop the castle wall that was over forty meters tall.

Five days ago, fleeing refugees had brought news of a monster invasion. Terlanden reacted at once, evacuating the people of his domain and assembling his army at Longstone Keep. But when he saw the tens of thousands of Ant-men swarming toward them, he was still aghast.

Though shocked by the sheer number of Ant-men, Terlanden did not panic. Longstone Keep was the source of his confidence. Unlike the hastily constructed, low-walled castles of the Prince’s Faction, Longstone Keep was built entirely of sturdy greystone, standing forty-three meters high, with enough provisions to sustain seven hundred soldiers for six months.

Terlanden knew human castle defense like the back of his hand; no monster had ever been able to breach such a fortress by frontal assault. A lord of the Kingdom of Naville had once successfully crushed a centaur tribe’s offensive with a thirty-five-meter-high fortress. His common soldiers had used the castle walls to engage the centaurs in an archery duel. Whenever the centaurs rested, armored knights would charge out from the castle, only to retreat and recover their strength before their Aura was depleted. In the end, the centaur tribe had no choice but to retreat in disgrace, leaving over a hundred corpses behind.

Terlanden had planned to deal with the Ant-men in the same way. A foe that could be attacked but couldn’t effectively strike back would eventually be broken, no matter how numerous. But reality had taught him that while the Ant-men could be killed, they would never be broken. When the battle began, the Ant-men first filled the six-meter-wide moat with their own bodies, then scrambled over their comrades in a desperate attempt to climb the walls. The Ant-men’s frenzied behavior had given Terlanden quite a scare. Fortunately, the ladder they formed from their own bodies collapsed when it reached a height of about twenty meters.

Afterward, the Ant-men tried twice more, both attempts ending in failure and resulting in thousands more being crushed or killed in the fall. Just as everyone was laughing at the Ant-men’s foolishness, they began to build an earthen ramp. The soldiers fired desperately at the Ant-men with their bows and crossbows, but they could only slightly slow the pace of the construction. It was then that their arrow supply had been heavily depleted. Just as Terlanden was starting to feel hopeless, the family’s Red-Eyed Crow delivered intelligence that the Ant-men feared fire. The fire arrows managed to curb the Ant-men’s assault, but their work on the ramp never ceased, merely becoming much slower.

“My lord Fero! A beautiful shot!”

Seeing his family’s knight, Fero, precisely set an Ant-man ablaze, Terlanden couldn’t help but smile. Fero was his son.

After several hundred of their kind had been burned to death, the monsters changed their strategy. They no longer maintained dense formations while building the ramp but instead spread out as much as possible, using shields to block the fire arrows. This made it difficult for common soldiers to hit an Ant-man in a single shot. To conserve arrows, all the family’s Knights had become archers; only they possessed the precision to shoot down the shield-bearing Ant-men.

A fire arrow ignited an Ant-man as it tried to pick up a shield, turning it into a fireball. Watching the standard-issue York family shield slowly burn, Terlanden’s heart clenched. To rescue the Terlanden family, an entire elite force of one thousand from the York family had been annihilated by the Ant-men, including two Knights he had known personally.

As a Silver-rank Great Knight, Terlanden could have easily broken through the siege with his knights. But unlike the nobles of the Prince’s Faction who had come to seize territory, Earl Terlanden had moved his entire clan to the Centaur Hills. His wife, daughter, and many common folk—all vassals of his family—were inside this castle. Earl Terlanden could not abandon them, just as the York family could not abandon him. This was the duty of a liege lord.

What weighed most heavily on Terlanden’s heart was the message he had received from Sylvia: the York family would mobilize their greatest strength to rescue them. This included one thousand Sacred Warriors, five thousand regular soldiers, thirty thousand militia, and all of their Knights.

Terlanden had no doubt that his liege lord would defeat the Ant-men, but he was also certain it would leave the York family grievously wounded. Earl Terlanden knew that if a human army were to face the Ant-men in open battle, the only outcome would be the utter annihilation of one side and devastating losses for the other.

Gripping the Mithril hilt of his sword, Terlanden scanned the Ant-man army below, his gaze cold and resolute. Although Sylvia had specifically told him that the family’s decisive battle with the Ant-men was also a political necessity—the only way to show everyone that the York family had exhausted every effort in facing the monsters—Terlanden was still resolved to die in battle on that final day.

“Someone’s coming!” shouted a soldier on lookout duty.

A fiery red figure was gracefully approaching the castle. Exquisite, ornate full plate armor outlined a slender figure, and a Mithril longspear engraved with intricate floral patterns dragged a perfectly straight line on the ground behind it.

“It’s… It’s Lady Sylvia!” Sir Fero said in disbelief.

“It is the Queen of Roses,” Terlanden said softly, placing a hand on Fero’s shoulder. He was intimately familiar with the smiling woman’s face carved on the Mithril mask beneath her helm. When Sylvia donned her battle armor, the knights of the Rose Knights would call her the Queen of Roses. And Terlanden was one of the Rose Knights.

“Father! What is she doing? We should go down and support her!” Fero cried out excitedly. It was clear from Sylvia’s determined stride that she intended to charge the Ant-man army—alone!

“Don’t be rash. We cannot act without Her Highness’s command. Besides, these Ant-men won’t be able to hold Her Highness back!” Terlanden’s composed voice carried an unshakeable confidence.

Sylvia advanced silently toward the dense Ant-man army. A few dozen savage-looking Ant-men had already noticed her approach and let out provocative hisses. Unmoved, Sylvia stopped five hundred meters from the Ant-man army. She frowned slightly as she watched the tens of thousands of Ant-men methodically carrying earth forward.

An intangible, formless line of mental power coalesced and swept across the Ant-man swarm. Sylvia sensed the physical information of over a thousand Ant-men, and soon, she locked onto three special ones. With a single movement of her feet, she walked straight toward the first target.

As a Gold Knight of Flame, Sylvia’s mental power far surpassed that of any mortal. In her vision were a series of frozen tableaus—of the past, the present, and the future—precognitive images born from her high Spirit attribute. Dragging her three-meter-long Mithril spear, she moved into these tableaus with a slow grace. Not a single Ant-man touched Sylvia as she raised her spear and thrust, piercing her target with a motion that was neither fast nor slow. This Commander Ant-man had long seen Sylvia in her fiery red armor walk into the vast Ant-man army. It just stared blankly as the Knight approached, as the spear thrust toward it, as the sharp tip pierced its sturdy carapace. It didn’t understand what had happened until a searing flame ignited it from within, turning it into a fireball.

The moment the Commander Ant-man died, the frozen tableau shattered. Hundreds of Ant-men screeched and frantically attacked their companions. This chaos spread outwards rapidly, quickly disrupting the Ant-men’s order. An instant later, a new series of frozen tableaus formed in Sylvia’s mind, and she clearly saw another target several hundred meters away.

This Commander Ant-man was deeply confused. It had seen the creature walk into the swarm and assassinate one of its kind. What was strange was that the creature’s attack was clearly slow and powerless, yet its kinsman had been as fragile as an aging Soldier Ant, killed with ease. Nevertheless, the Commander Ant-man controlled the swarm to pounce on the approaching Knight, certain that killing this creature would allow the Queen Mother to absorb more power.

Sylvia walked straight toward her second target. A frenzied Soldier Ant was lunging at her. Sylvia paused slightly, and a pair of grappling Soldier Ants tumbled past in front of her. The frenzied ant immediately changed its target and began to fight with its two companions.

Just like that, Sylvia walked out of the chaotic Ant-man swarm with a rhythm that was at once fast and slow. A torrent of Ant-men greeted her, hundreds of them screeching as they charged. More terrifyingly, several more swarms just like it were also rushing toward her. In a few seconds, she would be completely engulfed.

Facing the surging tide of Ant-men, Sylvia moved against the current. Her Mithril spear thrust into the oncoming swarm and stirred. The Soldier Ants around the spear were sent flying to both sides by a gentle yet irresistible force, crashing into their kin. A path was cleared in the Ant-man tide. Slipping through the opening she had created, Sylvia came face-to-face with her second target.

The Commander Ant-man swung its spear at Sylvia with tremendous force, the steel-forged weapon bending in the air and letting out a piercing shriek as it cut through the air. The blow was so ferocious it could have killed an Ogre outright. But no matter how powerful an attack, if it couldn’t hit its target, it was useless.

Facing this incredibly fierce horizontal sweep, Sylvia’s speed suddenly increased. She slid past the Commander Ant-man, becoming a streak of fiery red light as she passed behind it. The Ant-man Commander felt a sharp pain in its head before plunging into eternal darkness. In the instant she passed by, her Mithril spear had pierced its head, the power imbued in the weapon brutally blowing its hideous head apart. With the commander dead, the swinging spear was flung from its hand, spinning through the air for dozens of meters and crashing into the pursuing swarm. It left a trail of mangled limbs in its wake, and the now-uncontrolled swarm clashed with the other pursuing Soldier Ants.

Moving at high speed, Sylvia leaped more than ten meters into the air, soaring over the wall of Ant-men. In mid-air, she hurled her Mithril spear toward the third target. The silver-white spear instantly penetrated the target’s body, pinning it deep into the ground. With a few bounds, Sylvia landed beside her target, reached out, and pulled her Mithril spear free. The hissing, struggling Ant-man Commander was immediately ignited by the power of the fire elements.

Before the surrounding Ant-man swarms could close in, Sylvia retreated into the chaotic mob. Taking advantage of the Ant-men fighting amongst themselves, she had already left the army behind, drifting away into the distance and vanishing in an instant.

“What… what just happened?” Fero muttered to himself, staring at the Ant-men slaughtering each other below the castle.

Although it had only lasted thirty short seconds, the entire process was crystal clear. Fero had witnessed with his own eyes how Sylvia walked to the edge of the Ant-man army, killed three Ant-men with a speed that shifted from slow to fast, and then departed with casual grace, after which the swarm erupted into a riot.

It was obvious that those three Ant-men were the source of the swarm’s chaos, but what Fero couldn’t understand was how Sylvia had managed to kill three targets inside the Ant-man army with three strikes in thirty seconds, all while making it look completely effortless. And from beginning to end, she had only used the power of a Silver Knight.

“How can a Silver Knight be this powerful!? My Lady is clearly a Gold Knight, so why didn’t she use her Transcendent combat skills?” Fero’s mind was in turmoil. The difference between a Gold Knight and a Silver Knight was the ability to channel the power of the Elemental Sea to form unique and incredibly powerful Transcendent combat skills. In his view, it wasn’t impossible for a Gold Knight to slay a commander and seize a banner in an army of tens of thousands, but they would have to unleash their Transcendent combat skills to do so. Yet Sylvia had accomplished it with such ease and grace. It was simply unbelievable!

“It’s not surprising. Her Highness is hailed as the most powerful Gold Knight precisely because she has absolute control! Among all the Pinnacle Knights, only Her Highness can achieve this!” Terlanden said with a smile as he watched the warring Ant-man swarms. The Ant-men’s order had driven him to despair, but their weakness now gave him hope. More importantly, as long as Sylvia was here, wiping out these tens of thousands of Ant-men was only a matter of time.

“Fero, watch these Ant-men closely. I’m going back to rest for a bit. I’ll come and relieve you when I’m recovered!” Terlanden patted his son’s shoulder and walked back into the castle.

“Father! My Lady left without saying a word! What do we do?” Fero shouted at Terlanden’s retreating back.

“Hold the castle and await Her Highness’s orders.”

Terlanden didn’t turn around, merely waving a hand. It was the first time the Earl had stepped down from the walls since the siege began. Though he felt weary, his steps were light.

Chapter 114: A Surprise

“Victor’s intelligence was correct. We were all intimidated by the sheer number of Ant-men. The Ant-men are unlike any monster we’ve known; each swarm is dominated by a single Ant-man. There can’t be more than three hundred swarms that have invaded the Centaur Hills.” Sylvia picked up a cup of coffee and took a gentle sip. Her leisurely, languid air caused the atmosphere in the room to relax, and the six Great Knights, including Trisley, all smiled.

This morning, the Great Knights of the York family had all witnessed the moment Sylvia charged into the Ant-man tide. The Ant-men’s weakness was laid bare. Although their numbers were frightening, as long as their leaders were killed, the Ant-man disaster could quickly be quelled.

“Don’t get careless, though. These special Ant-men are comparable in strength to an Ogre chief—they’re Silver-rank monsters.” Seeing everyone’s eagerness, Sylvia put down her coffee and warned them.

The six Great Knights’ smiles vanished, their expressions turning solemn. An Ogre chief was an incredibly powerful monster; an ordinary Knight was no match for it at all. A Silver-rank Great Knight could kill an Ogre chief, but an Ogre chief could also kill a Silver Knight. This meant that the Ant-man leaders were powerful enough to contend with any one of them.

Sylvia saw that although the knights seated before her wore solemn expressions, the fighting spirit in their eyes had only grown stronger. She couldn’t help but feel a headache coming on. Knights were an exceedingly confident bunch, and the spiritual will of a Great Knight was even more tenacious.

Sylvia didn’t want the family’s high-end fighting force to suffer losses at a time like this. She already had a rough plan in mind for the current situation.

“Victor said the Commander Ant-men won’t attack proactively. That’s incorrect intelligence!” Sylvia stated gravely. “The Ant-man leaders will actively attack Silver-rank beings, including us Knights. If you reveal your Silver-rank strength in front of an Ant-man leader, it will definitely attack you.”

“Of course, we can’t blame Victor for passing on wrong information. His power level is too low to trigger an Ant-man leader’s desire to attack, just as a tiger wouldn’t go out of its way to hunt a field frog. This might also be why the Ant-men didn’t pursue the commoners.”

When she was verifying the intelligence, the Ant-man leader’s aggressive intent couldn’t escape Sylvia’s extraordinary spiritual senses. To keep her Great Knights from taking risks, she emphasized, “And I don’t believe any one of you could single-handedly kill an Ant-man leader while surrounded by hundreds of Ant-men. Gentlemen, do not attempt to eliminate an Ant-man leader without the coordination of three companions. It’s extremely dangerous!”

Sylvia’s serious attitude sent a chill through everyone’s heart. Giles slapped his head in a moment of realization. “No wonder Viscount Briart died in the Ant-man tide! He must have become a target for the Ant-man leaders!”

A thought struck Sylvia. The Ant-man disaster had erupted so suddenly that she had been busy with defensive matters and hadn’t paid much attention to the situation outside her fief. But now, Victor had become the most crucial piece of her plan, and Viscount Briart’s Fief was right next to Victor’s. She was suddenly interested in what had happened to Victor’s neighbor.

“Tell me the details.”

“About ten thousand Ant-men invaded Viscount Briart’s Fief and ran right into the Viscount’s convoy. To cover the retreat of the Viscount’s wife and his son, Briart led his men in an attempt to draw the swarm away. Unfortunately, he was killed in battle. His personal guard and his two knights were completely wiped out. Now, Briart’s younger brother is organizing the defense against the Ant-men in Wildwillow City. It’s said that the Ant-man swarm hit Briart’s fief hard, destroying many of their crops. The Briart family will probably have a very difficult time ahead of them.”

Giles shook his head and sighed. He had no friendship with Briart, but for a Great Knight to be surrounded and killed by Ant-men just to protect his wife and child made Giles, also a Silver Knight, feel a pang of sympathy.

“What’s the Chapman family’s situation now?” Sylvia asked with a frown.

“Earl Chepman isn’t having an easy time either. Even more Ant-men entered his territory than the Briart’s. However, they were prepared in advance. They abandoned a few small castles and concentrated their forces at Blue Goose Keep. Right now, Earl Chepman is holding out there and can still manage for the time being.” Giles paused, then added with a laugh, “That old miser, Earl Chepman, is probably coughing up blood from the heartache this time. When the Ant-men couldn’t take Blue Goose Keep, they turned around and devoured nearly all of his crops.”

The Great Knight’s jest brought a faint smile to Sylvia’s lips. This gloating stemmed entirely from a relaxed state of mind, a state that came from knowing the Ant-men’s weakness and having confidence in her. Even if hundreds of Ant-man leaders were Silver-rank monsters, they were still powerless against Sylvia. A whole major rank of power separated them; they could neither block her nor catch her. If she killed a few each day, she would eventually wipe them all out. Of course, this also depended on the family having a castle where she could rest, otherwise even a Gold Knight would be worn down to exhaustion. As for the loss of grain, the kingdom and the Church would certainly compensate the family. As long as the family could hold the Centaur Hills, many things were negotiable. Everyone present was a Silver-rank Great Knight and not lacking in wisdom; they had already vaguely guessed Sylvia’s intentions.

Sylvia mulled it over for a moment before asking, “Where is Marquess Golan?”

“He has already reached Redleaf Town. It’s said he’s conscripting the lords’ armies there. I think he probably intends to set up his defenses there,” Viscount Fred said with disdain.

Sylvia chuckled. “It’s for the best that Golan doesn’t come.”

The Great Knights all nodded. The family and the Gambis Royal Family distrusted each other. Even if the family needed military support, they would never want it to be the Swift Dragon Knights. Marquess Golan’s decision to garrison at Redleaf Town was also based on this consideration. He clearly didn’t want to cause a misunderstanding with the York family, and at the same time, he could defend against the Ant-man army while also guarding against the York family doing something desperate. This was also why Sylvia had initially decided to fight the Ant-men first before leading the people in a retreat. But things were different now.

“I plan to use the Ant-men as leverage to negotiate with the royal family and take the Centaur Hills!” Sylvia glanced at the excited crowd, then added, “Have Terlanden defend Longstone Keep until Baron Vilpan collapses. That way, the Prince’s Faction’s influence will be completely removed from the Centaur Hills. Until then, the Ant-men’s weakness must not be leaked!”

Sylvia’s scorching gaze shone with a magnificent luster. The Gold Knight’s powerful will made the six Great Knights’ hearts tighten, and they spoke in unison, “As you wish, Your Highness!”

“Very good. You’re dismissed for now. Trisley and I have something to discuss,” Sylvia said faintly.

Once the five Great Knights had filed out, Trisley smiled at Sylvia. “Your aura just now was quite terrifying.”

“Oh, did I scare you? My apologies,” Sylvia rolled her eyes, then sighed, “If we want to completely control the Centaur Hills, there are several key problems we need to solve. The first is quelling the Ant-man disaster, which of course is no longer a problem. The second is taking in the population. This isn’t a big issue either. Over one hundred twenty thousand refugees have gathered in Black Fortress Town. As long as we accept them, the Church and the other lords will be more than happy.”

“The most important problem is that we need to build a fortress at the entrance to the Great Marsh!” Sylvia fell silent for a moment before speaking slowly.

Trisley asked in surprise, “Since we’re defending against the Ant-men here, the kingdom and the Church will naturally have to support our construction of a fortress. Shouldn’t that be part of the negotiations?”

Sylvia’s brow arched. “Why would we let them help us build the fortress? If we did that, what right would we have to talk of controlling the Centaur Hills?”

Trisley was suddenly at a loss for words. Building a fortress required immense manpower and resources, and infiltration by the kingdom and the Church during the process would be unavoidable. In truth, neither the Church nor the Gambis Royal Family could rest easy letting the York family guard the Centaur Hills alone. They would surely demand to station troops there once the fortress was complete. Unless the family demonstrated its own power—and building the fortress would be a demonstration of that power.

But building a fortress was no simple matter. The main issue was materials. Even if they dismantled all the castles left behind by the Prince’s Faction, it wouldn’t be enough to build a fortress like Black Fortress. And the one thing the Centaur Hills lacked most is stone, unless… Trisley’s thoughts turned, and she understood Sylvia’s meaning.

“The bricks Baron Victor has?”

Sylvia beamed, her radiant face blooming like a flower. “Exactly! The key to the problem is my little man!”

“Most of Victor’s subjects have arrived at Black Fortress Town. Our people have secretly investigated and questioned them, but unfortunately, none of them know about these bricks. It seems we can only solve the problem by finding Victor,” Sylvia leaned back in her chair and sighed, “Speaking of which, this is all thanks to Victor. The information that Ant-men fear fire, and the weakness of the swarms, all came from him. He also holds the crucial brick-making technology. So, we must find him!”

“You want me to go and get him?” Trisley nodded and asked in a low voice.

Sylvia gave a wry smile. “It’s not that simple! The fact that Victor can send us messages via Ash Falcon means he’s safe. He could easily come to Black Fortress for shelter himself, but he hasn’t. Victor doesn’t want to abandon his fief! If Victor knew we wanted his land, it would be nearly impossible for you to find him.”

Trisley sighed as well. Victor’s fief contained an exit from the Great Marsh. For security reasons, the family was determined to acquire that territory. Sylvia clearly intended to use forceful means to make Victor leave his fief, creating the fact that he had abandoned his rights to the land. But Victor held the technology the family needed most. It was a contradiction she didn’t know how to resolve.

“To think my little Baron, so ridiculously weak in strength, still has the resolve to defend his land. He’s acting like a true lord. I’m really growing to like him more and more. When he gets here, I’ll be sure to treat him well,” Sylvia said, her spirits soaring again.

Trisley couldn’t help but mock, “Could you stop being so infatuated? Baron Victor doesn’t want to come. How are we supposed to find him? His fief is twelve thousand square kilometers!”

“I’m not infatuated, I’m simply admiring the fruit I’ve cultivated myself.” Sylvia’s eyes twinkled as she chuckled. “Victor’s little handmaiden is still at Rose Manor. Have her write a letter to Victor, telling him Nicole has gone to look for him. Victor won’t bear to let Nicole take such a risk. He’ll definitely come out to meet her!”

“Trisley, you take Nicole, and Bruce, and go to Victor’s fief. Bring Victor back to me!”

——————————————————

In the early morning, Victor opened his eyes to see a circle of glowing green eyes around him. Startled, he scrambled to his feet. Taking a closer look, he realized he was surrounded by Alchemical Warhounds, their tongues lolling out.

“You scared me to death! You stupid dogs! Didn’t I order you to stand guard outside?! What are you all doing crowding around me?!” Once Victor recovered, he became flustered and grabbed one of the warhound’s heads, ruffling its fur vigorously.

“My lord, these newly joined warhounds haven’t received your orders yet, so they followed the instruction to gather around you,” the militiaman, Jack, explained upon hearing Victor’s question.

Victor’s mind went blank. He glanced around and saw eleven warhounds surrounding him. They were indeed different from the others.

“These… these things… where did they come from?” Victor stammered.

Victor remembered clearly that after he shot the Commander Ant-man, the Alchemy Tower had produced another seven warhounds, bringing his total to sixteen. But how could he wake up to find eleven more?

“Lord Victor, they ran over from Hill Camp,” Jack answered matter-of-factly.

Victor slapped his forehead in anguish and groaned, “I’m asking, where did the Alchemy Tower get the money to produce these things? Never mind, you’re just going to say, ‘I don’t know!’”

“My lord, I indeed do not know!” Jack nodded, confirming Victor’s prediction.

Victor said in frustration, “Go on, take these guys hunting!”

Jack acknowledged the order with a sharp whistle, and the eleven enormous warhounds followed behind him, heading out of the valley.

After the big eaters had left, Victor did a quick calculation. Producing eleven warhounds cost thirteen thousand two hundred Gold Sol and took a day. This meant that since yesterday morning, the Alchemy Tower had started producing warhounds continuously again. To feed the warhounds under his command, Victor had already moved to the western mountains of his fief so they could hunt freely. These newborn warhounds had taken a long detour to find the main group. But the question remained, where did the Alchemy Tower get the money?

After pondering for a long time without an answer, Victor decided to just stop thinking about it. He walked over to Reno, who was roasting a wild boar leg. In any case, with twenty-seven warhounds, his strength had grown again. This was a surprise.

The wild boar leg was roasted to a golden brown, its aroma filling the air, looking exceptionally tempting. But Victor had no appetite. Eating roasted meat and wild vegetables every day was torture, especially having it for breakfast! The bushes outside the valley rustled. Victor put down the boar leg in surprise. Another warhound had run over!

Two hours later, a second warhound found Victor. When the third warhound started wagging its tail furiously beside him, Victor shot to his feet.

“Something’s wrong! We have to go back to Hill Camp!”

Chapter 115: The Awakening

Dilapidated, desolate, a scene of rubble and ruins. Crows circled high in the sky, their harsh caws echoing as they flapped their wings and landed on a tall watchtower, making the Hill Camp feel like a domain of ghosts.

A few giant dogs, each the size of a calf, leaped over the ten-meter-wide moat and squeezed through a gap in the collapsed drawbridge. They quickly fanned out across the Hill Camp, and a short while later, long howls filled the air.

Victor stared silently at the huge, carbonized drawbridge. The deep moat below was pitch-black, and the greenish tint of the ground was a testament to the thousands of Ant-men who had died there. Their bodies, however, were gone, most likely devoured by their own kind.

Bang!

The chains were severed, and the half-closed drawbridge shattered into pieces. Reno, holding his two-handed battle-axe, beckoned to Victor. Victor leaped forward, floating lightly over the wide moat, and entered the Hill Camp under the protection of six militiamen.

Toppled houses, broken trees, and a ground littered with debris. Aside from the relatively intact palisade, there was no sign that this had been a beautiful village just over twenty days ago. Victor walked through the ruins toward the upper camp, his ears seeming to echo with the villagers’ cheerful laughter and the guards’ training shouts. But all of it was just a memory.

Seeing half a year’s work reduced to nothing in a single day, Victor felt an indescribable heartache. He remembered building a beautiful castle with blocks as a child. When an old cat knocked it to pieces, he had chased it in a rage for a long time. The Hill Camp, which held the blood and sweat of a thousand people, was so much more.

The moment he stepped into the Hill Camp, Victor began to reflect on every moment since he had transmigrated to this strange world. He had used a beautiful, ethereal vision of the future to rally everyone’s passion, making them work tirelessly for him. In just a few short months, he had built his fief into something respectable. Although he had stumbled through many difficulties, he had handled them fairly well overall. Yet, just as he was ambitiously planning for the future, a catastrophe had destroyed everything. His construction and plans were nothing more than a fragile castle of blocks!

The vicious Ant-men had taught Victor a lesson. This was no longer the peaceful, prosperous world he once knew; this world had a cruel side. Victor knew the importance of power and had seen what monsters looked like, but knowing was not the same as a profound understanding. Only after being taught a harsh lesson did he understand why the ancestors of China had built the magnificent Great Wall under such primitive conditions. His greatest failure was that he was still thinking with a peacetime mindset: develop the economy first, then the military. He had spent most of his energy on building his fief. While he had thought about building a castle, it was only to secure his own status, not for defensive considerations. In retrospect, Victor realized he wasn’t building a fief, but a corporation! And his guards were merely security personnel…

Of course, even if he had started building a castle from the beginning, he wouldn’t have succeeded. There wasn’t enough time, manpower, or money. Moreover, developing the fief to this extent in a few months was a testament to the advanced nature of modern thinking. In truth, if he had been given another two years of development, everything would have been on the right track. Unfortunately, monsters didn’t play by the rules. The tragedy of the Hill Camp was destined from the start. No lord would be like him, starting with nothing, hastily recruiting a few hundred freemen to establish a pioneer fief. The root of the problem was the fearlessness that came from ignorance.

Thankfully, it wasn’t too late! At least he was still alive. He still had the Alchemy Tower, and he still had this vast fief!

As he reached the upper camp, Victor noticed the dark red bloodstains on the ground and the scattered fragments of crossbows. These must have been the traces left by the sacrificed auxiliary soldiers.

Bending down to pick up a bloodstained piece of leather armor, Victor sighed heavily. “Reno, what do you think Busuo and the others were thinking when they died? Were they afraid?”

“They weren’t thinking of anything, nor were they afraid,” Reno said in a low rumble.

Tossing the armor fragment aside, Victor clapped his hands. Reno’s answer was not unexpected. The content within the Will Side determined the cognition of the Alchemical humans. To them, death was nothing more than falling into a deep slumber.

But these Ant-men were also clearly related to the Alchemical Empire. Their behavior was almost identical to that of alchemical creatures. The only difference was that the Commander Ant-man’s Life attribute was astonishingly high, reaching a staggering thirty points, far beyond the scope of any alchemical creature.

Victor had two theories about this. The Ant-men might be alchemical creatures that had broken free from the Alchemy Tower’s control and were now evolving into natural life forms. Alternatively, they were originally ordinary insects that had accidentally absorbed the Alchemy Tower’s Soul Fire and were simultaneously influenced by its Will Side. If one considered Soul Fire to be a form of divinity, then these Ant-men were transforming into divine beings. What they would ultimately become, Victor could hardly dare to imagine.

Passing through the ruins of the upper camp, Victor entered the Alchemy Tower once more. Countless runes on the Element Extraction Altar glowed with a brilliant light as an Alchemical Warhound took shape.

Connecting his consciousness to the Tower Spirit, Victor called out, “King, I’m back!”

“Welcome back, My lord!” the King responded.

“What number Warhound is this?” Victor asked, one hand on his hip and the other stroking his chin, striking a rather imposing figure.

“The thirty-sixth. After four more, the production order will be complete,” the King replied.

Victor breathed a sigh of relief. He had rushed back for the sole purpose of issuing a new production order; otherwise, once the current task ended, the rapid production function would shut down.

“Have there been any changes to the Alchemy Tower’s gold reserves in the last two days?”

“Yesterday, the Alchemy Tower’s Soul Fire limit increased by ninety points, and its gold by thirty-seven thousand, six hundred and ninety-eight coins. Today, the limit increased by another sixty points, and the gold by twenty-five thousand, six hundred and twenty-four coins.”

“That much!” Though he had been prepared, Victor was still taken aback by the numbers.

“My lord, judging from the increase in the Alchemy Tower’s Soul Fire limit, you have killed seven Commander Ant-men in total. This change is only natural,” the King stated calmly.

“I only killed two. The other five were most likely taken down by the York family.” Victor shook his head. “I was originally hoping the Yorks would send a Great Knight to help me hunt the Ant-man commanders, but I didn’t expect them to be attacked as well.”

“My lord, the result is the same. Your power is growing stronger,” the King said.

Victor sighed, “This might be a bad thing, too! The Ant-men have clearly invaded the York family’s territory, which means their numbers are far greater than I imagined. And I’ve somehow stolen the Ant-men’s money. What kind of reaction do you think the one controlling the Ant-men will have?”

The Alchemical Empire quantified the power of the Law of Creation as wealth, so it was not wrong to call it money. Finding money was, of course, a happy occasion, but finding a gangster’s money was a death sentence, and the Ant-men were tens of thousands of times more ruthless than any gangsters on Earth.

“My lord, the Ant-men’s reaction is not important. They never intended to spare you. Since that is the case, you should continue to weaken them, plunder their wealth, and fight until they are completely annihilated,” the King advised.

Victor burst out laughing. “You’re right! I rushed back here precisely to spend money.”

“My lord, you seem quite happy?” the King asked, a little confused. The last time it connected with Victor’s consciousness, the Tower Spirit had clearly sensed its master’s spirits were low. This time, he seemed much more relaxed.

“I’ve suddenly realized that my fief has been washed clean, so to speak. Besides us, there are almost no living people. Now that we have money, it’s the perfect time to create alchemical creatures!”

These past few days, Victor had been skirmishing with the Ant-men across his fief. He discovered that it was not just the Hill Camp; other factions within his territory had also been wiped out by the Ant-men, who were still tirelessly disciplining the Fishmen along the banks of the Goldwater River. The entire fief had been turned into a desolate, uninhabited wilderness by them.

Originally, Victor’s problems with creating Alchemical humans were twofold: one was his limited wealth, and the other was the need to conceal their existence. The disaster brought by the Ant-men had solved both problems. Naturally, he had to seize this opportune moment and go with the flow.

No sooner said than done. Victor directly issued an order to the King, “King, after the Warhound production task is complete, continue by producing fifty alchemical crows. After that, begin unlimited production of Lithe Ape militiamen and Alchemical auxiliary soldiers in a five-to-two ratio. Load the Alchemical auxiliary soldiers with the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form, and have them cycle between Ranged Weapon Mastery, construction, and forging skills.”

“As you command, My lord! The production order has been issued and the tasks have been established.”

Victor nodded in satisfaction. The decision not to produce more Crouching Ox Militiamen was carefully considered. Crouching Ox Militiamen were tall and powerfully built, their strength peerless, even able to hold their own against an ordinary knight for a short time. They were the spitting image of a savage human. The problem was that savage humans were rarer than knights, and a group of them would inevitably attract the attention of major powers. Furthermore, the Crouching Ox Militiamen’s strength was in frontal assaults, making them prone to casualties. With an Alchemical militiaman costing twelve hundred Gold Sol—and eighteen hundred during rapid production—Victor was reluctant to use them as cannon fodder. After all, in the Alchemical Empire’s design, militia were not combat units but rather units for gathering and construction support.

Compared to the Crouching Ox Militiamen, the Lithe Ape militiamen were closer to ordinary humans and had better survivability. Although a Lithe Ape militiaman couldn’t face a knight head-on, their extraordinary agility allowed them to hold their ground for some time. If they were equipped with Thorium crossbows and Warhounds, it was not impossible for them to shoot down a knight, as the aformentioned Savage Bear was clear proof.

Most importantly, Victor was now preparing to build a castle. The outstanding performance of the Lithe Ape militiamen during the recent defense against the Ant-men had left him very satisfied.

“King, have the newly created alchemical units assemble at Brick Kiln Village! That place wasn’t damaged by the Ant-men, and I’ll be staying there for a while. Also, when you create the Alchemical auxiliary soldiers, prioritize awakening Busuo. There’s no need to change his skills,” Victor instructed, his expression complex.

“As you wish, My lord.”

——————————————

Black Fortress Town was now like a massive military camp. Except for the Nobles’ District and the church, most of the buildings had been torn down. Tents sprang up on the cleared land, where the hundred thousand-plus people from the Centaur Hills were now crammed together. Although it was crowded, the public order was surprisingly good. Soldiers from the Magistrate’s Office patrolled tirelessly, and anyone who dared to cause trouble was ruthlessly suppressed. It was wartime, and not even the Church would interfere.

During wartime, the York family, as the masters of Black Fortress Town, had conscripted all adult men into the militia. Even the subjects of other lords were broken up and reassigned. In truth, the moment those lords abandoned their lands, their subjects became freemen. The lords themselves had already taken their vassals and fled the Centaur Hills. Unlike the ignorant populace, the nobles knew exactly what an army of one hundred thousand Ant-men meant.

In one corner of Black Fortress Town, Victor’s subjects were housed together, the only group that had not been dispersed. This was likely because Victor was still holding his ground in his fief, so they were not yet considered vassals of the York family. Of course, most believed it was due to Hager’s care, a fact that could be seen from the food rations the York family allocated them. Although everyone knew Hager was actually a spy for the Yorks, they had worked together for a long time and were all familiar with each other. Thus, the upper echelon of Victor’s fief was quite grateful to Hager, with the sole exception of Barol.

“Tutor, that Hager took Dean drinking again. Village Head Dean was very happy when he came out, smiling the whole time. But before entering the camp, he stood outside for a moment, and then the smile vanished from his face,” a lean boy whispered to Barol.

“What did you deduce?” Barol asked, deciding to test the successor he was grooming.

“Village Head Dean is happy, but he doesn’t want us to know he’s happy. Therefore, he has likely sold out our interests.”

“Well said! A smile naturally means happiness, and hiding that smile means he doesn’t want others to know he’s happy. We must deduce a simple answer from a simple phenomenon and never get clever by adding our own embellishments. Once you have this answer, you can make a bold hypothesis: Dean has sold out our interests. Then, you investigate along that line. It doesn’t matter if you’re wrong—most of the time, we are. But we only need to be right once. Go, continue your investigation with your companions.”

Watching the little boy walk away nonchalantly, Barol felt a secret pride. This little fellow was the most talented of all his disciples.

After escaping to Black Fortress Town, Barol had sensed that many things were amiss. My lord Victor’s people were deliberately housed together and given preferential treatment. Hager visited every few days to ask after their well-being, all the while subtly probing the people from Brick Kiln Village. But how could Hager’s methods possibly fool Barol’s eyes?

Barol, hiding in the shadows and using these boys as his eyes and ears, quickly discovered that the York family was trying to win over the people from Brick Kiln Village. They were asking about an item, something that might be extremely important to the York family. Most crucially, they had not yet obtained it, and the people of Brick Kiln Village were unaware of its existence.

Since the villagers of Brick Kiln Village didn’t know about it themselves, how could the York family possibly know that they might possess such an item? Barol guessed there were two possibilities. The first was that My Lady Lilia had told the York family. She had been settled in Rose Manor, the very heart of the York family’s domain. Lilia was merely a noble’s handmaiden; what qualified her to be housed there? Therefore, on the surface, it was accommodation, but in reality, it was house arrest. This also proved the importance of that item!

The second possibility was that My lord Victor had deliberately told the York family. Only My lord Victor himself knew where the item was. If this theory was correct, then My lord Victor clearly intended to use this item to negotiate with the York family!

Barol didn’t care about the content of Victor’s negotiations with the York family, but he knew that before one family negotiates with another, they must understand the other party’s situation and bottom line. That was his job.

Now, My lord Victor didn’t know that the York family had also suffered an insect disaster, that their vassal families were besieged, that the Prince’s Faction had collapsed, that My Lady Lilia was under house arrest, that the Church had dispatched one thousand Sacred Warriors, and that the Radiant Knights had not arrived. Because of this, Barol was anxious. He had to get this intelligence back!

It wasn’t that Barol was particularly loyal to Victor. The life of a spy was deeply ingrained in his bones; gathering intelligence was his instinct. Now that the intelligence was collected, the most important thing was to deliver it! It was like a master chef who had prepared a grand feast and was waiting for his master to come and eat. Only by passing on the intelligence would Barol feel at ease!

How could he get the intelligence back? Barol’s gaze fell upon the War Bear Mercenaries, who were drinking together in a group.

Chapter 116: Wavering Loyalties

Old John picked up his oaken mug and took a huge swig. The low-quality mare’s milk wine was both harsh and astringent, making him choke and cough repeatedly.

Wiping his mouth messily, Old John chuckled dryly. “A hundred thousand Ant-men besieging the city! To think we’d live to see such a grand spectacle.”

“You’re just trying to fill the silence,” Baritt said, glancing at Old John impassively.

Old John gave an awkward smile. “I was just trying to liven things up a bit.”

No one paid Old John any mind, simply drinking their wine in sullen silence. The atmosphere of war would place immense pressure on most people, but not on these battle-hardened veterans. Unlike the common farmers, the mercenaries were certain the Ant-men could not take Black Fortress Town. The thirty-meter-high walls were solid and thick, and among the population of over one hundred thousand, more than seventy thousand had received militia training. The town was also well-stocked with supplies, and even had its own farmland and water sources. As long as they didn’t march out to fight the Ant-men in the open field, there was no chance of Black Fortress Town falling.

What truly made the old soldiers anxious was the absence of Captain Narsen, My Lady Lilia, and My Lord Victor. Victor’s subjects had already split into three groups: the War Bear Mercenaries and a small number of guards formed one faction; the villagers from Brick Kiln Village, led by Dean, were another; and the rest had gathered around Village Head Moline.

“Morale is gone! It’s hard to lead the men now!” One-Eyed Dragon Gru lamented.

Old John shot a sidelong glance at Gru. “What’s this? Gru, are you planning to step up and take charge as Chief?”

“I don’t have what it takes! I just can’t stand those who betray their own for personal gain! If we hadn’t fought to the death to cover their retreat, would they be sitting here so comfortably?” Gru said resentfully.

The others were also dejected. They hadn’t expected that just a few days after escaping to Black Fortress Town, these people would start scheming for their own benefit. Dean and the villagers from Brick Kiln Village, in particular, were being treated with exceptional courtesy by Hager. Even a blind man could see that the York family was planning to recruit them.

“It’s not surprising. My lord’s foundation is still too shallow. And with both him and Lilia gone, and that boy Narsen who-knows-where, it was bound to happen. But this is also a good thing. Once the insect plague is over, it will be perfectly clear who is and isn’t trustworthy,” Baritt said coolly.

Unlike the villagers, the War Bear Mercenaries were more loyal to Victor. This was not just because Lilia was Victor’s personal handmaiden; Victor’s insistence on holding the rear had already won their respect and trust. For soldiers, a comrade to whom you could entrust your back was the most important thing. Moreover, Victor, despite being a lord, hadn’t used them as cannon fodder, which had deeply moved the War Bear Mercenaries.

Gru stammered, “I wonder… how the Chief is doing? D-do you think he might have…”

“Nonsense! That bastard Narsen is probably off enjoying himself in some corner somewhere. This isn’t the first time! Besides, if even a good-for-nothing like you made it out, how could anything have happened to Narsen!”

Linda’s eyes were wide with anger, yet they couldn’t hide her deep-seated worry. Victor had already sent a message to Lilia via Blackfeather, letting them know he was still moving around the fief. Lilia herself had been taken to Rose Manor by Nicole. Now, only Narsen’s whereabouts were unknown. It was true that on past missions, Narsen had separated from the group more than once to draw away enemies, but had there ever been a time when they weren’t worried?

Baritt mulled it over for a moment before saying, “We managed to get out thanks to the Ash Falcon guiding us. Narsen had two Ash Falcons with him as well. With his skills, he’ll surely be fine.”

In the Ant-man disaster, the War Bear Mercenaries had miraculously withdrawn, losing only two members at the beacon fire tower. Their successful escape was partly due to their rich combat experience, but mainly because the two Ash Falcons had shown them the way. The militia and regular guards who retreated earlier hadn’t been so lucky, losing nearly half their men. In contrast, most of the women and children, who had no means of self-defense, had survived the ordeal.

Linda forced a smile. Besides waiting, there was nothing else she could do. The York family had sealed Black Fortress Town; without their permission, no one could leave.

A small, scrawny girl squeezed in past Gru, her eyes fixed on the black beans on the plate.

Gru shouted, “Hey, little girl, what are you pushing for? This isn’t a place for you. Go on, go play somewhere else.”

“One-Eyed Dragon, what are you yelling about!” Linda’s maternal instincts took over. She pulled the little girl closer and said softly, “Are you hungry? If you want these beans, go ahead and take them.”

The little girl nodded, grabbed a handful of black beans and stuffed them into her pocket, then nuzzled Linda’s cheek with her small face before skipping away.

Seeing the complex expression on Linda’s face, Old John sighed. “There are a lot of orphans like her now. It’s best to let the Church take her in.”

Linda gave Old John a deep look, then glanced at Baritt and made a discreet gesture. The surrounding mercenaries understood immediately, each pretending to be absorbed in their own drinks and conversations.

A while later, Old John slapped Baritt on the shoulder and slurred, “Old ghost, I need to take a piss. Give me a hand.”

“Go by yourself!”

“Bastard, I’ve only got one leg.”

“I think you’ve had too much to drink. Fine, I’ll walk with you.”

The two old mercenaries staggered towards a deserted area. Turning a corner, they saw an old farmer with graying hair.

“I think I’ve seen you before. You’re one of the villagers from Group Four,” Baritt said, his eyes narrowed.

Barol nodded. “My name is Denver, Master Baritt. I also have another name: Barol.”

“Barol! You… aren’t you dead?” Old John stared at Barol, uncertain. He had seen Barol’s body with his own eyes, and this man didn’t look like Barol.

“I’m not dead! What you saw was my body double. I serve My Lord Victor now.” Barol grinned. He had been looking for Baritt, and had called Old John over to verify his identity, since Old John knew his former self.

Baritt glanced at Old John, who quietly explained Barol’s story.

“Who are you really? And why did you have that kid call us over?” Baritt asked coldly.

“I am now a spy under My Lord Victor. The only people who know my identity are My Lord Victor, My Lady Lilia, and Captain Narsen,” Barol stated frankly. “All of us who retreated from Victor’s fief have been gathered together, and none of us have been conscripted into the militia. We’re just being fed and housed day after day. Don’t you find that strange?”

Baritt and Old John exchanged a look. “What are you trying to say?”

“Outsiders can’t get into the area we’ve been assigned to, and the people around us are mostly men from the York family! The truth is, we’re all being watched! And My Lady Lilia has been placed under house arrest!”

The old mercenaries were stunned. Now that Barol had pointed it out, they realized that the area they had been settled in was backed by the city wall, flanked by the Magistrate’s Office on the left and the military barracks on the right, with a single road in front. The magistrate had specifically warned them that it was wartime, and they were not to wander around, or they would be punished under military law! This had seemed like a reasonable request at first, since Black Fortress Town was extremely crowded and random movement could easily cause chaos. But now, it seemed the York family was deliberately isolating them.

“Why would the York family do this? Is Lilia in any danger?” Baritt asked in a low voice.

“I don’t know!” Barol shook his head. “And I don’t care. Right now, I just want to get information about the situation here to My Lord Victor. I need your help!”

“Why should we believe you? And how are we supposed to help you?” Old John’s cold gaze swept over Barol, like an old wolf ready to pounce.

“You don’t have to believe me. I will tell you the intelligence I need delivered, and you can decide for yourselves whether or not to pass it on to My Lord Victor!” Barol said. “As for the method, I know you have the Ash Falcons a that My Lord Victor trained…”

“The Ash Falcon can fly back to Hill Camp, but My Lord Victor certainly isn’t there. Your method won’t work!” Baritt cut him off.

Baritt could make an Ash Falcon return to Hill Camp. In fact, most of the War Bear Mercenaries knew that command. They could even make the falcons lead them away from the Ant-men now. But to make a falcon fly several hundred kilometers and then find Victor, Baritt had never even considered it possible.

Barol paused, then said to Baritt, “I noticed that when My Lady Lilia went to Rose Manor, she told that man, Kahn, to obey your orders. You could try asking him.”

“You know a lot!?”

Baritt frowned. He himself only had a vague understanding of Kahn’s true identity. To think that this old spy who claimed to serve My Lord Victor knew more about these secrets than he did was rather unsettling for Baritt.

Barol chuckled. He was one of the first to know that Victor had death commandos under his command, and he could also tell that the Ash Falcons were trained. If even these death commandos couldn’t get a message out, then he was out of options, but he had to at least try. Barol believed that since the falcons could deliver messages to Lilia, they could definitely deliver them to My Lord Victor; it was just that no one else knew how to control them properly.

“We don’t need to worry about My Lord Victor’s affairs. We just need to do what we’re supposed to do. When My Lady Lilia returns, you can ask her to confirm my identity, if she’s willing to tell you.” With that, Barol relayed the intelligence he needed them to send.

“That’s it? You’re not messing with us, are you!?”

Old John eyed Barol with suspicion. The supposed intelligence this self-proclaimed spy wanted them to pass on was just a bunch of things everyone already knew. Shouldn’t a spy’s information be some kind of secret?

Faced with such an amateur, Barol could only roll his eyes. A spy’s job was to deliver accurate, albeit sometimes mundane, information. As long as it was something My Lord Victor didn’t know, it was valuable intelligence.

“Don’t expose my identity. Trust me! I am very useful to My lord! Also, tell everyone to stay calm. As long as My Lord Victor is out there, My Lady Lilia will be safe.”

Watching Barol’s back disappear behind a tent, Old John asked Baritt, “What do we do? Should we trust him?”

“The intelligence is sound! We can trust Barol this one time! He’s already put his life in our hands,” Baritt said grimly.

Old John nodded in agreement. The man was so cautious just to pass on a message. It was clear that if Barol’s identity were exposed, he would surely be purged by the York family. Since Barol was willing to take such a huge risk, he should be trustworthy, at least this once.

Chapter 117: Division of Labor

In the reception room of Rose Manor, Sylvia was meeting with the family’s Intendant, Anthony, and the spy, Azir.

“This type of giant brick kiln is completely different from any we know! Its most prominent feature is its sheer size! Operating such a massive kiln is not a task for a few people, or even a few dozen!”

Anthony York was a direct descendant of the York family. Lacking the aptitude to become a Knight, he was sent by his family to the Silver Spire to study various fields of knowledge. Ten years at the Spire cost a small fortune, but the intelligent and diligent Anthony did not disappoint, becoming a Spire Scholar proficient in agriculture, animal husbandry, smelting, brewing, and architecture. Upon returning to the family, Anthony was appointed as the family’s Intendant and was granted the title of lordship.

Having just seen the blueprints for Brick Kiln Village, Anthony was astonished. He had never imagined a brick kiln could be built larger than a villa. Coupled with a tall chimney dozens of meters high, the giant brick kiln was practically a small fortress!

“Yes, My lord Anthony. There are over three hundred villagers in Brick Kiln Village, and they are responsible only for making bricks. Baron Victor even plans to expand Brick Kiln Village’s population to five hundred people!” Azir said with the utmost respect.

“Three hundred people?! That many people for a single brick kiln? Impossible! Cramming so many people together would only lead to chaos. They wouldn’t be able to get anything done! Unless they were rigorously trained like an army.” Anthony shook his head in disbelief.

“Anthony, the facts are undeniable. Baron Victor’s Brick Kiln Village has indeed achieved this, and I believe it is something entirely new.” Sylvia said placidly. “Azir, explain to His Excellency, the Intendant, how Brick Kiln Village managed it.”

“Yes, My Lady.” Azir bowed and said, “The villagers of Brick Kiln Village are divided into many small groups, with each group performing only one task. Chopping wood, digging clay, sifting soil, fetching water, molding bricks, air-drying them, firing the kiln, cooling the bricks in the shade, and transportation—each step has dedicated personnel. Therefore, there was absolutely no chaos.”

Anthony was stunned for a long moment before murmuring, “One person, one task?! I see… If one person only does one thing, not only will there be no chaos, but they will also become more and more efficient because they will grow increasingly skilled at that single task! Brick-making is not a simple matter, and not everyone knows how to do it! Breaking a complex process down into simple steps is perfectly suited for the ignorant subjects. There’s no need to specifically teach them the entire craft of brick-making. This is truly a stroke of genius!”

“Which master designed this method for Baron Victor? Was it Master Edwin?” Anthony asked Azir excitedly.

Craftsmen are valuable assets, and it takes more than a decade to train a qualified one. Although brick-makers might not be considered true craftsmen, only a few people are masters of its secrets. Selecting three hundred brick-makers from over a thousand common folk would be nearly impossible! But this division of labor perfectly solves that problem. Anthony’s eyes were opened, and he was filled with deep admiration. He was certain that this groundbreaking design had to be the work of a master scholar.

“It was Baron Victor himself. The Baron calls this ‘division of labor’,” Azir replied.

Anthony frowned. He truly hadn’t expected Victor to have invented this method himself. As far as he knew, Baron Victor was only eighteen years old and had never studied at the Spire. There were rumors that the Baron was merely a court noble unfamiliar with practical matters.

Could it be that Victor was a genius? At this thought, Anthony felt a little despondent. Although he hadn’t awakened the aptitude of a Knight, he had always prided himself on his superior intellect. He had felt a strong sense of superiority over unscholarly court nobles like Baron Victor, but now he felt an indescribable sense of loss.

“Baron Victor is indeed very smart, but he’s only eighteen. I mean, did he really come up with ‘division of labor’ all by himself?” Anthony pressed, unwilling to accept it.

“I am also very interested in this question. Azir, are you certain no one is secretly helping Victor?” Sylvia asked, her interest piqued.

Sylvia could believe that the giant brick kilns were the result of the old Marquess Wimbledon gathering talented individuals to design them. But she would never believe that the old Marquess had already figured out how to operate them before the kilns were even built. If the old Marquess truly possessed such genius, he wouldn’t have been cornered by his own relatives, left without even an heir, and ultimately forced to have Sophia inherit his legacy.

If the division of labor was truly Victor’s design, Sylvia wouldn’t be surprised; Victor had already given her too many surprises. But she couldn’t rule out the possibility that someone was backing him from the shadows. Sylvia had to find out the truth.

Azir understood Sylvia’s concern, but in all the time he had been lurking by Victor’s side, he had never discovered anyone secretly contacting the Baron. On the contrary, Victor’s talents left Azir in awe, because he knew exactly where the idea for the division of labor had come from.

“My Lady, I am very certain that no one is secretly helping Baron Victor. In fact, the method for running Brick Kiln Village was not thought up by the Baron alone either.”

Azir said, “Baron Victor gathered the village group leaders for a meeting. He would propose an idea and then order everyone to help him perfect the details. If the results didn’t meet the Baron’s expectations, the group leaders had to take the problem back to their own villager groups for discussion. At the next meeting, everyone would continue the discussion. The site selection for Brick Kiln Village, the allocation of personnel, and the operational method of dividing labor were all decided in such meetings.”

Stealing a glance at Sylvia’s expression, Azir lowered his eyes and continued, “Baron Victor demanded that everyone attending the meetings speak their minds freely and fully express their opinions. Since everyone sat around a round table for these meetings, the Baron called them ‘round table meetings’.”

“This… this is absurd! How could he let those lowly freemen participate in the affairs of the fief! Oh, my apologies, the esteemed Countess, please forgive my impudence. I just feel that what Baron Victor is doing is unbecoming of a noble.”

Anthony suppressed his inner indignation and bowed to Sylvia in apology.

Sylvia chuckled lightly. “When Baron Victor took office, he had neither Knights nor scholars by his side. Other than a few hundred freemen, Victor couldn’t find any talent to assist him. For the Baron, implementing round table meetings was indeed a good idea.”

As she spoke, Sylvia glanced at Anthony. She knew perfectly well why he was so agitated. Victor’s round table meetings were in line with Master Edwin’s philosophy, while Anthony happened to hold the opposing view. Sylvia had no interest in debates between scholars, but the giant brick kilns were crucial to the family’s grand plan and could not be jeopardized!

At this thought, Sylvia’s expression hardened, and she said sternly, “Anthony, I don’t care about the origin of the division of labor or the giant brick kilns. I only want to ask you, can the family build them?”

“My Lady, rest assured! With these blueprints, I can definitely build the giant brick kilns. In fact, these blueprints have many shortcomings. I can make some improvements that will increase the kilns’ brick output even further,” Anthony replied courteously.

Sylvia smiled. “Excellent! Anthony, you truly haven’t disappointed me. I hope you can produce a better design before the war ends.”

“Yes, My Lady. If there is nothing else, I will return to redesign the giant brick kilns at once.”

“Go.”

After Anthony left, Sylvia turned to Azir and asked, “Running Brick Kiln Village can’t be as simple as just relying on the division of labor, can it?”

“Yes, My Lady. In Brick Kiln Village, there are also people who coordinate and supervise the villagers in the division of labor, formulating production plans according to Baron Victor’s requirements and using a system of rewards and punishments to motivate the villagers. After all, making bricks is very hard work. The person in charge of these affairs is Village Head Dean,” Azir said with admiration.

Azir had participated in the entire construction of Brick Kiln Village, but he only had a partial understanding of its operation, knowing only that it was a very complex matter. In any case, after Dean was appointed village head of Brick Kiln Village, he sought out Victor for discussions every few days. It took a full month before Brick Kiln Village was finally running smoothly.

Sylvia pondered for a moment, then asked calmly, “Is that Dean willing to become a subject of our York family?”

“He… he seems reluctant to give up his status as a vassal. If… if we also grant him a fief, Dean would surely pledge his allegiance to us,” Azir said awkwardly.

Sylvia sneered, “Is the status of a vassal to our York family so easily obtained? Everyone has seen the lesson taught by Baron Victor.”

“Azir, keep an eye on that group under Victor’s command. Don’t let them have private contact with anyone else. Once Victor returns to Black Fortress Town, these people will naturally join our family.”

“Yes, My Lady. I will do as you command.”

——————————————

In an elegant room in Rose Manor, Lilia stared blankly at the mirror. Reflected within was a young maiden with bright eyes and pearly teeth, dark brows and cherry lips, and fair skin. Yet, a faint sorrow clouded her features.

Lilia had never thought she could be so beautiful, nor had she ever lived in such a luxurious room. But she wasn’t happy at all.

Ever since Lilia had been settled here, three maids had dressed her in a beautiful long gown and adorned her with exquisite jewelry. With just the ring of a bell, an attendant would immediately appear to provide her with meticulous service. This was the life of a noble that common people dreamed of, but it was not what she wanted right now.

Lilia wanted to request an audience with the Countess, but the Countess did not summon her, and the well-trained handmaidens would not tell her anything about the situation outside. Lilia was at a complete loss.

“Lilia, we’ve come to see you.”

Nicole’s voice was a pleasant surprise for Lilia. She opened the door to find Nicole and Bruce.

“Sister Nicole! Lord Bruce!”

Lilia wanted to curtsy to Bruce, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember which type of etiquette a personal handmaiden was supposed to use when greeting a Knight.

Nicole grabbed the flustered Lilia’s hand and said excitedly, “Lilia, Tutor Trisley helped me persuade Lady Sylvia. She has already agreed to let Tutor take us to rescue Victor.”

“Ah! I want to go with you,” Lilia said hurriedly.

Bruce stepped forward and said gently, “Lilia, this rescue mission for Victor is extremely dangerous. We can’t take you with us. However, you can help us contact him.”

“Lord Bruce, you mean Blackfeather! Of course, how could I not have thought of that! If Blackfeather can find me, it can definitely find Victor!” Lilia’s eyes lit up, and she spoke with delight.

Nicole took Lilia’s hand and said sincerely, “Lilia, Victor will recognize your handwriting. Write him a letter and tell him to wait for us near the Old Ogre’s lair. We will definitely bring him back safely!”

“Okay!”

Blackfeather circled several times in the sky, but receiving no command from Lilia, it finally turned and flew south, a parchment letter tied to its leg.

Chapter 118: Sophia’s Enemy

Sophia’s study was exquisite and luxurious. The snow-white, jade-like walls were meticulously crafted from a type of wood called Moonlight Wood. The wood’s luster was as warm and smooth as white-glazed rock, and it was perpetually cool to the touch, keeping the study refreshingly pleasant all year round.

Moonlight Wood was not considered a commodity, as its value could not be measured in coin. This rare timber was a specialty of the Terrel Mountains, and Sophia’s Merchant association was one of the few organizations that could trade with the barbarians. In fact, in the entire Kingdom of Gambia, only Sophia had the means to build a study with Moonlight Wood.

A row of white crystals was embedded in the Moonlight Wood walls. These colorless crystals were an important material for the Church’s rituals, each one worth five hundred Gold Sol. Displaying white crystals in a study was a common practice among the Nobles. The crystals had light-amplifying properties; with just a single lit candle, the entire room would be as bright as day.

However, the most eye-catching feature in the study was the mounted head of a sabertooth tiger hanging on the wall!

The sabertooth tiger was, without a doubt, the most dangerous feline in the world. A moon-bladed leopard was as harmless as a kitten in comparison.

An adult sabertooth tiger weighed over 2200 pounds, with a shoulder height of nearly two meters and a body length exceeding four meters. Its fifteen-centimeter fangs could easily pierce a Knight’s armor. It was said that even adult Ogres were on the sabertooth tiger’s menu. It was the king of beasts, a genuine Silver-rank monster!

“What an astonishing beast! What’s more astonishing is that you, Marchioness Sophia, hunted it yourself.” A gorgeously dressed man remarked, his eyes fixed on the lifelike specimen on the wall.

“Grand Duke Williams, surely you didn’t grace the Marquess’s estate just to discuss how to hunt sabertooth tigers with me?”

Sophia wore a snow-white fishtail gown that trailed elegantly on the floor, outlining her graceful curves. She stood with her arms crossed, a guarded posture, yet the posture only served to accentuate her full bosom, creating a soul-stirring sliver of pale cleavage that was unspeakably alluring.

Grand Duke Williams turned his head to look at Sophia. His face was handsome, his body strong, with muscle lines that were distinct but not exaggerated. His eyes were sharp and clear, giving off an impression of both sincerity and wisdom.

“Sophia, your beauty is truly captivating. If I were ten years younger, I would undoubtedly fall at your feet,” Williams said with a serious expression.

Sophia, however, replied coolly, “Your Highness, I’ve heard enough compliments. Please state your business. I’d rather not have the Grand Duchess misunderstand.”

“Marchioness Sophia, I believe you’re more worried about Queen Catherine misunderstanding,” Williams said with a smile.

Sophia’s gaze grew even colder. “Your Highness,” she said frostily, “since you are aware of my relationship with Her Majesty Catherine, please leave.”

Williams shook his head and chuckled. “Sophia, Catherine can’t help you, nor will she. Your relationship has already fractured. Right now, only I can help you through this crisis.”

“Your little husband is trapped in the Centaur Hills, his fate unknown. It’s highly likely he has already died in the Ant-man tide. And you are in big trouble!”

Sophia’s violet eyes narrowed. This was exactly what she had feared most. The terrible news from the Centaur Hills three days ago had made her heart sink. For the past few years, Sophia had played all sides. First, with Catherine’s help, she had seized the Marquess’s inheritance and, backed by the Queen’s power, purged the Merchant association. Then, she had secretly worked with Sylvia to break free from the Queen’s control and regain mastery of the association.

However, Sophia faced an insurmountable obstacle: the law regarding a lord’s right of succession in the Radiant Code.

The first Pope compiled the Radiant Code, which explicitly stated that the right of a lord’s succession was sacred and inviolable. When a lord died, his blood-kin had to inherit his title.

In truth, this law was a trap set for the lords by the first Pope. In the beginning, the Church’s strength was limited, making it difficult to protect the entire human world. Therefore, the Pope decided to unite with the knightly class to face the invasions of the Other races, granting them the status of lords.

After the Church’s power grew, they began to punish or execute lords who violated the Radiant Code, but they still respected the succession rights of the lords’ blood-kin. In this way, they effectively weakened the will of the lordly class to resist. After all, even if a lord was executed by the Church, his descendants or siblings could still become the lord in his place. This subtly reduced the animosity of the lordly class towards the Church, avoiding intense conflict. Of course, this also showed that the early Church was not concerned with secular power. They only wanted to protect more people and gain more faith. As long as humanity survived, faith would survive, and the Church would be unshakable.

Over thousands of years, constant familial wars and marriage alliances led the knightly class to form one military bloc after another. When human kingdoms emerged, the knightly class, seeking to weaken the Church’s influence over the kingdoms, established the House of Nobles and the Senate. The House of Nobles was responsible for mediating disputes between lords, and when mediation failed, the Senate would render a verdict.

After these two institutions appeared, the Nobles began to learn how to exploit loopholes in the Lord’s Law. Catherine had pushed Sophia onto the Marquess’s throne by arranging the marriage between her and Victor.

Strictly speaking, Victor was the true heir to the Marquessate. However, the Senate ruled that Sophia would inherit the title first, and stipulated that their future offspring would be the heir. The Church had always turned a blind eye to such borderline cases. The right of succession itself was established to appease the lords; as long as the Nobles did not dispute it among themselves, the Church couldn’t be bothered with such trivial matters.

What Sophia had never expected was that the Ant-man army would invade the Centaur Hills. Sylvia had her own hands full, and Victor was likely dead. Victor’s death meant that Sophia’s years of effort would be for naught, because her enemies would not miss this chance to reclaim the Marquess’s inheritance.

Now, even Grand Duke Williams was extending his claws toward her, but Sophia was not prepared to compromise.

“So what? Even if I lose my title, I’ll simply go back to being who I was,” Sophia said coldly.

“Sophia, you should first see my sincerity.” As he spoke, Williams tossed a scroll to her.

Catching the scroll, Sophia saw it was a transfer order.

“Transfer the Commander of the Royal Capital’s Imperial Guard, Baron Soren Wimbledon, to serve as the Commander of Minsk Fortress for a one-year garrison.”

Baron Soren Wimbledon, a pinnacle Silver-rank Knight, Supreme Commander of the Gambis Imperial Guard, the genius of the Wimbledon family most likely to advance to Gold Knight, Grand Duke Williams’s right-hand man, and also… Sophia’s mortal enemy!

Soren was the old Marquess Wimbledon’s nephew. After his family’s decline, he sought refuge with the old Marquess, who mentored and sponsored him, eventually helping him become a Silver-rank Great Knight.

The old Marquess had three wives in his lifetime. He was deeply in love with his first wife, but she passed away before they could have any children. In his later years, the old Marquess wanted a child to inherit his legacy, so he took a daughter from a minor family as his second wife. A few years later, his young wife became pregnant, only to suffer a mysterious and tragic accident. Only then did the old Marquess realize that his Merchant association had been deeply infiltrated by Soren, and that Soren coveted his title and fortune.

By then, the old Marquess was powerless to punish Soren. Soren had won Williams’s favor, and many high-ranking members of the Merchant association had pledged their allegiance to him. The old Marquess, on the other hand, did not have much time left.

The old Marquess no longer wanted an heir; he only wanted revenge on the traitor. Thus, he married his third wife, Sophia.

At the time, Queen Catherine was virtuous and gentle, meddling in neither politics nor military affairs, but the old Marquess was certain that the Queen was no naive woman. He knew that, given the chance, the Queen would definitely interfere with the Merchant association. Therefore, he meticulously planned everything for Sophia. And just as he predicted, with the Queen’s help, Sophia inherited the title and the fortune, and purged the high-ranking members of the association who were loyal to Soren. Faced with the Queen’s power, Soren didn’t dare make a peep.

The reason the old Marquess chose Sophia as his successor was not that he coveted her beauty, but because of her ambition and ability. As long as Sophia inherited his wealth and title, she would become Soren’s mortal enemy.

Using the Queen’s power to eliminate the traitor and creating a Silver-rank enemy for Soren—this was the old Marquess’s revenge.

As for the fate of the Merchant association and Sophia, the old Marquess didn’t care. He just never expected Sophia to scheme so cleverly and break free from the Queen’s control.

But even so, Soren and Sophia had indeed become implacable enemies, unless Sophia was willing to marry Soren. However, the old Marquess had already seen through Sophia’s character and will. She would never submit! Because Sophia, too, was a Silver-rank Great Knight.

No matter how much the old Marquess hated Soren, he couldn’t deny the fact that Soren was his nephew. If Victor were truly dead, Soren could completely overturn the Senate’s ruling and demand that the Church uphold the right of succession, helping him inherit the title and the Merchant association.

And now, Soren had been transferred by Grand Duke Williams to garrison a border fortress, unable to return for a year!

“Last time, when the Senate ruled that I would inherit the title of Marquess, His Highness Roland stalled Soren for an entire day. This time, Your Highness has given me a year. What is it that you want?” Sophia asked, staring at Williams.

“I want you to go to the Centaur Hills!”

Chapter 119: Secret Fortress

The three Warhounds were whimpering, circling a ruin and pawing restlessly at the ground, sending splinters of wood and clumps of dirt flying everywhere.

“Dig!”

At Victor’s command, several burly men leaped onto the wreckage and quickly began to clear away the collapsed wooden house. Soon, the debris was cleared, revealing a square wooden door on the ground.

A militiaman pulled the door open, peered into the pitch-black hole, and shouted, “My lord, it’s a cellar.”

Victor craned his neck for a look. The cellar entrance was two meters square with a wooden ladder leading down. He couldn’t see what was inside.

“Send in the hounds!” Victor waved his hand with a commanding air.

Two Warhounds, each the size of a calf, bounded into the hole. A moment later, they let out howls signaling it was safe.

“Go see what treasures the Chapman family left behind,” Victor ordered the militiamen around him.

Four Lithe Ape militiamen filed in. When they came out, Victor couldn’t hold back his smile.

Thirty longbows, six crossbows, three thousand feathered arrows, two hundred crossbow bolts, twenty refined iron spears, twenty shields, two suits of chainmail, fifteen sets of leather armor, plus over one hundred bags of flour and more than four hundred pounds of salt. The militiamen hauled all these supplies out of the cellar and stacked them neatly on the ground.

Victor picked up a twenty-kilogram spear, effortlessly twirling it in a beautiful flourish. He chuckled. “Earl Chapman must have been using these supplies to bribe Bayr’s group. Now they’re all mine.”

“Busuo, what else did you collect from the Mithril mine?”

“My lord, we collected one hundred thirty-two iron pickaxes, forty-seven iron hammers, ninety-seven shovels, twenty-seven small ore carts, fifty-seven leather boots, sixty-nine leather gloves, five large coils of coarse hemp rope, four carts of Mithril ore, twelve carts of silver ore, and eleven white crystals.”

Busuo reported to Victor meticulously. His appearance, build, and voice were all identical to before. But who could have imagined that this Busuo had once been torn to shreds by the Ant-man army?

“Load everything onto the dog carts! Take it all back to Brick Kiln Village!” Victor said gleefully.

“My lord, we only have seven dog carts. We can’t transport it all in one trip,” Busuo reminded him.

Alchemical humans had low emotional intelligence, but their intellect was little different from an ordinary person’s. They would still raise objections to their master about orders that could not be completed.

“Er, make several trips. Don’t stop until it’s all moved.”

The Alchemical Warhounds, serving as beasts of burden, pulled the seven “dog carts” laden with supplies towards Brick Kiln Village. Victor stood in one of the carts, the strong wind whipping against his face, and muttered spiritedly to himself, “What a great harvest!”

It had been four full days since he issued the new production orders. Victor now had three Crouching Ox Militiamen, twelve Lithe Ape militiamen, four Alchemical auxiliary soldiers, forty-one Alchemical Warhounds, and sixty-seven alchemical crows at his side. In addition, the Alchemy Tower was still producing three Alchemical humans per day.

However, Victor had the embarrassing realization that he now had the manpower, but not the resources!

The Ant-men had overrun Hill Camp, eating all the food, taking all the weapons, and not leaving so much as a single arrow behind. Fortunately, they weren’t interested in clothes or leather armor, otherwise the newly created Alchemical auxiliary soldiers would have had to run naked to Brick Kiln Village.

Watching the Alchemical humans arrive at Brick Kiln Village one by one, empty-handed, Victor began to worry. Every person was another mouth to feed, and the Alchemical Warhounds had voracious appetites. Luckily, his fief was large enough that they could fill their stomachs by foraging and hunting. But Victor hadn’t created alchemical creatures to hunt and gather wild vegetables; he wanted to form his own army! The Alchemical militia were all top-tier soldiers, but without weapons, their combat effectiveness was far inferior to that of the Alchemical Warhounds.

Victor decided to gather supplies first and then resume production. So, he led his men and began scavenging all over the map.

The first stop was, of course, his main base, Hill Camp. Hill Camp had the most stored resources and had also suffered the greatest destruction. Nearly twenty thousand Ant-men had trampled the place to ruins. Fortunately, Victor was very familiar with Hill Camp. He had his Alchemical militia clear the rubble of two warehouses and even dug open a cellar, eventually finding some production tools and over sixty barrels of Purple Cane wine. The problem was transporting whole barrels of Purple Cane wine. In the end, Victor reburied the wine.

Victor needed a means of transport. So, he took his men to Carpenter Village, which specialized in producing horse-drawn carts. To Victor’s pleasant surprise, Carpenter Village, like Brick Kiln Village, was relatively intact. Aside from the food and weapons being completely plundered by the Ant-men, the woodworking tools and half-finished carts remained. The problem was, while the carts could be repaired, there were no horses to pull them! Of course, this problem was quickly solved. Victor set his sights on the powerfully-built Warhounds. At his request, Busuo led the Alchemical auxiliary soldiers to quickly modify the horse carts into “dog carts” suitable for the Warhounds to pull. The Warhounds did not disappoint Victor. Their speed, strength, stamina, and intelligence were streets ahead of any common draft horse. These large creatures pulled the “dog carts” quickly and steadily.

With seven “dog carts,” Victor’s scavenging efficiency increased many times over. He visited Flax Village, Flatlake Village, and the Mountain folk’s camp one after another, and did indeed find many useful materials. Regrettably, he found no food or weapons.

The unexpected haul from the Chapman family’s camp, however, made Victor ecstatic. Aside from the food and weapons, what satisfied Victor most were the mining tools left behind in the mine.

Victor now had food, weapons, transport, all sorts of production tools, and Alchemical humans. Now, all he had to do was resume production, build a smithy, mine the iron and Thorium veins, and manufacture weapons to arm the endless stream of Alchemical militia.

Arriving at Brick Kiln Village, Victor jumped off the dog cart and directed the Alchemical militia to move the supplies into the drying chamber. Looking at the grey bricks that had been knocked to the ground by the Ant-men, Victor asked Busuo, “Busuo, can these bricks be used to build a furnace?”

Busuo picked up a grey brick, examined it, and nodded. “Yes, they can, my lord.”

“That fellow Dean did a pretty good job managing Brick Kiln Village!” Victor muttered to himself.

Brick Kiln Village was the farthest from Hill Camp, and Dean had retreated in a very timely manner. Aside from production tools, he took all the food and weapons with him. Of course, this was also because all several dozen horse carts were at Brick Kiln Village, and its villagers were more organized than ordinary farmers, as they usually worked in small groups. It was precisely because they had cleared out so thoroughly that Brick Kiln Village suffered the least damage. This was also why Victor chose to stay here temporarily.

Currently, there were about six thousand Ant-men in the fief, concentrated along the Goldwater River at the southernmost tip. This gave Victor room to develop; after all, the fief was a full twelve thousand square kilometers, and a few thousand Ant-men were as insignificant as pebbles in a pond. To prevent any accidents, Victor paused his operations to hunt Commander Ant-men and arranged for two dozen alchemical crows to monitor the swarm. He would know immediately if the swarm made any major moves.

Now, the most important thing was to choose a location to build a furnace and a smithy. This location had to have water, an abundance of wood, be far from the Ant-men, close to the fief’s iron vein, and preferably near the Thorium vein as well. Victor’s eyes fell on the area near the Old Ogre’s Lair. That was the most suitable position.

“Caw!”

An alchemical crow circled in the air. Victor’s pupils contracted when he saw a parchment letter tied to its leg.

Three hours later, two parchment letters were spread out before Victor. The first was written by Baritt, and the other had been brought back by Blackfeather from Lilia.

“Baron Vilpan’s castle has been breached! This means that besides me, Eskri, and the York family, there are no other powers left in the entire Centaur Hills. Sylvia has put Lilia under house arrest, is monitoring my people, and has even dispatched a Great Knight to bring me to her. What is she up to? No, the question should be, what will she do?”

The intelligence passed on by Barol was simple and clear. A few months ago, Victor certainly wouldn’t have been able to analyze anything from it, but he was no longer the naive rookie lord he once was.

Victor had learned to think like a lord. For example, he could coldly order his Alchemical Warhounds to slaughter freemen while simultaneously sparing no effort to save those same freemen. Only a lord was capable of such seemingly absurd and contradictory actions.

With a lord’s perspective, Victor quickly deduced what Sylvia was planning.

“Sylvia is letting the threat fester to make herself indispensable, all to seize the entire Centaur Hills for herself!”

Victor might not have Barol’s talent for intelligence analysis, but he knew three more critical pieces of information than the old spy. Special bricks! Commander Ant-men! And the fact that the York family was killing one or two Commander Ant-men every day! The Alchemy Tower was getting a daily income, after all.

Looked at this way, things became crystal clear! For Sylvia to seize the entire Centaur Hills, she had to control two key factors: first, the secret of the Ant-men must not be leaked! Second, she needed to build a fortress with special bricks! That was why they had put Lilia under house arrest; she knew the Ant-men’s weakness! And Victor was involved in both factors!

“Sylvia, you want my people, you want my bricks, you even want my fief!” Victor angrily smashed a nearby brick to dust.

After his rage subsided, Victor calmed down. After a moment of careful thought, a smile spread across his face. “Seeing as you send me money and people every day, I’ll grant your wish!”

“Busuo, in the mountains to the west of the fief, there is a high-quality iron vein and a large Oilwood forest. I want you to lead people there and build a small fortress using special bricks. Produce Thorium crossbows, Thorium shortbows, high-quality iron spears, suits of chainmail, Thorium crossbow bolts, and feathered arrows. Also, raise animals and plant crops. In four months, I expect to see five hundred fully-armed Alchemical militiamen!”

“Jack, you are in charge of the fortress’s security. You may mobilize all the Warhounds and militia to protect it as the situation requires. Do not let any strangers approach the fortress. If anyone sees the fortress, imprison them!”

“If there are any issues, I will contact you with the alchemical crows.”

The mountain range on the west side of Victor’s fief ran north-south, traversing the entire Centaur Hills for several thousand kilometers. It was rich in flora and fauna, perfectly capable of sustaining over a thousand Alchemical humans. With the York family killing a Commander Ant-man every day, they could provide the Alchemy Tower with 30 Soul Fire points and over ten thousand in funds. The Alchemy Tower, in turn, could produce three Alchemical militiamen daily. Before long, Victor’s power would snowball, growing larger and larger! In this world, strength was what ultimately mattered! Besides, Victor also had to make a trip to Black Fortress Town. His men were there, and they were a great asset he could not abandon!

“As you wish, my lord,” Busuo and Jack replied flatly.

Victor looked at the letter in his hand, his brow furrowed.

“Narsen, you rascal, where did you run off to? Don’t tell me you got killed by the Ant-men?”

Chapter 120: Narsen’s Courteous Reception

Blue Goose Keep stood by a lake, named for a species of blue waterfowl that inhabited its waters. It was a military fortress built by the Chepman family to defend against the Forest Centaurs.

The Chepman family had managed Blue Goose Keep for over a hundred years. After several renovations, the military fortress had reached the pinnacle of human castle construction. The main Keep towered sixty-four meters high, with two auxiliary keeps reaching fifty-five meters. A thirty-meter-high wall connected the three fortresses, forming a three-square-kilometer enclosed area in the middle. Inside were water sources, farmland, storerooms, a smithy, stables, and barracks, allowing an army of three thousand to be stationed there long-term.

For a hundred years, the impregnable Blue Goose Keep had never been attacked by the Forest Centaurs. But now, it was finally facing its first battle.

“Excellent! As expected of the Bear of the Northlands.”

“Berna, hurry up and shoot! Just watching you is making me anxious!”

“Berna, have you gone soft?!”

The bear-like Berna shot a fierce glare at his fellow Knight and nocked a fire arrow on his longbow. With a twang, the arrow shot forth, flying over four hundred meters to strike an Ant-man, turning it into a ball of fire.

Berna grinned, laughing in triumph. However, another fire arrow soared high into the sky, freezing the smile on his face.

“What a freak!”

Berna gritted his teeth and drew his longbow again. His eyes darted around, and the knotted muscles on his arms bulged. With a snap, the birch longbow broke in two.

“My bow broke! This round doesn’t count!” Berna yelled, but his declaration was met with a chorus of boos from his comrades.

Narsen fired off two more fire arrows in quick succession, then turned his head and said coolly to Berna, “You’ve lost.”

Berna’s face flushed red, but he immediately burst out laughing and slapped Narsen on the shoulder. “I’ve lost! I never thought a guy like you would have such freakish stamina!”

Berna was tall and powerfully built, his explosive muscles radiating strength. As the physically strongest Knight in the Chepman family, even a friendly gesture like a pat on the shoulder from him would be hard for an elite soldier to bear. However, Narsen’s body was even stronger, and he didn’t move an inch under Berna’s slaps. In truth, this was Berna’s way of showing Narsen his approval. He would never act so cordially toward a commoner; most Knights did not see commoners as their equals. Knights were always arrogant.

Narsen had earned the respect of the Chepman family’s Knights with his strength, and they now treated him as an equal.

Thirty days ago, Narsen had ridden a Swiftbird into the Chepman family’s territory, bringing news of the Ant-man invasion to Blue Goose Keep. The Garrison Commander of Blue Goose Keep, though skeptical, saw Narsen covered in green blood and wisely ordered the fortress to prepare for battle. He also dispatched scouts to investigate Victor’s fief.

As it turned out, the scouts encountered the battered DeWitt and his apprentice fleeing midway. With the scouts’ help, the two Knights successfully escaped to Blue Goose Keep, but they also led an army of over ten thousand Ant-men right to it.

The overwhelming swarm of Ant-men surged forward, the ground trembling beneath their feet as a vast cloud of dust obscured the view. The defenders of Blue Goose Keep trembled in fear at the Ant-men’s sheer numbers and presence. Fortunately, Blue Goose Keep had high, thick walls and had been forewarned. After a fierce battle, the Ant-men suffered over a thousand casualties yet still failed to breach the walls. Subsequently, the tens of thousands of Ant-men began to build earthen ramps. Luckily, Narsen had told the Garrison Commander that the Ant-men feared fire, and Blue Goose Keep happened to have several catapults. These siege engines, originally prepared for the Forest Centaurs, inflicted huge losses on the Ant-men. Balls of mixed cow dung and dry grass were soaked in fire oil, lit, and launched into the dense rear ranks of the Ant-men, burning countless numbers of them to death and thwarting their siege.

Seeing that their assault was futile, the Ant-man horde gradually dispersed, leaving only a thousand of their kind to continue the siege of Blue Goose Keep. The rest of the Ant-men began to ravage the surrounding villages and fields. The Garrison Commander planned to lead his troops out to eliminate these Ant-men but was met with strong opposition from DeWitt and Berna. As they were arguing, dire news arrived. Earl Chepman, leading the family’s elite cavalry, had been pursued by the Ant-man horde. After losing more than half his men, he had fled back to Blue Goose Keep in a sorry state. From then on, it became the consensus among the Chepman family’s Knights that they could not engage the Ant-men in open-field battles.

Relying on Blue Goose Keep, the Chepman family’s soldiers began to slowly pick off the besieging Ant-men. However, it was too much to ask of ordinary soldiers to hit Ant-men hundreds of meters away with longbows. After a large number of arrows and a great deal of fire oil were consumed, the deeply pained Earl Chepman ordered all his family Knights onto the walls to act as archers. And so, the bored Knights started a competition to see who could kill the most Ant-men, which led to the contest between Narsen and Berna.

In terms of combat prowess, Narsen might not be a Knight’s match. In terms of stamina, however, no Knight could compare to a human in a Savage state. Narsen stood on the wall, firing his longbow continuously for a full five hours without even seeming to catch his breath, while Berna’s Aura could not be sustained for that long. Although Berna’s accuracy was higher than Narsen’s, Narsen fired far more arrows. Overall, Narsen was the clear winner.

“Narsen, stay here! Baron Victor has no castle to rely on; it’s impossible for him to survive. If you stay, my Tutor will recommend you to join the Earl’s personal guard. With your strength, you’ll definitely become the captain of his personal guard in a few years!”

Berna sincerely invited Narsen to join the Chepman family, not only because of Narsen’s Knight-like strength but also because he had promptly informed them of the Ant-man attack and brought the intelligence that they feared fire. This made the Chepman family’s Knights feel grateful toward Narsen. What they could never have imagined, however, was that it was Narsen who had brought this great loss upon their family. If Narsen hadn’t led the Ant-man horde to the Chepman family’s territory, those Ant-men would still be in Victor’s fief chewing on Purple Cane, and the Chepman family could have calmly withdrawn their resources to the hinterlands.

“I say, a bet’s a bet. Give me back my Swiftbird,” Narsen said, shaking his head and refusing Berna’s offer.

“You… alright! Take care of yourself. The gates of our family will always be open to you. If Baron Victor meets an unfortunate end, you must come find me. We’ve fought side-by-side, after all, right?” Seeing that Narsen’s mind was made up, Berna didn’t press him further.

Narsen nodded at Berna and said, “Thank you, friend. If that day ever comes, I’ll bring my men and come to you.”

The drawbridge on the other side of the fortress was lowered. Narsen charged out on his Swiftbird, made a wide circle, and galloped off in the direction of Victor’s fief, soon disappearing from Berna’s sight.

Berna shook his head, turned, and walked down from the wall. In a spacious room, he saw Earl Chepman and Father Phil of the Radiant Church.

“Narsen has left?”

Earl Chepman sat on the main seat, dignified and solemn. One could not tell at all that he had suffered a crushing defeat just ten days ago.

“Yes. That fellow insisted on going back to find the poor Baron Victor,” Berna said helplessly.

“Loyalty is a precious quality.”

Earl Chepman nodded in praise. Although he had hoped to recruit Narsen, especially after his personal guard had suffered such heavy losses, praising the virtue of loyalty was more important than gaining a powerful warrior.

“Father Phil, the Ant-men are the most dangerous monsters to humanity!” Chepman turned to Father Phil beside him and asked, “When will the Church dispatch forces to help me exterminate these Ant-men?”

The thought of the Ant-men relentlessly devouring the crops in his fief cut Earl Chepman’s heart like a knife. The struggle for living space against other races ran through human history. Whether it was beastmen or monsters, they all shared common traits: the weak were omnivorous and numerous; the strong were carnivorous and few. In response to this, humans had long since developed mature and comprehensive strategies. Crop-destroying monsters would be periodically purged by the army. When facing powerful carnivorous monsters, humans would retreat into their castles, relying on the strength of their Knights to deal with them. Once the monsters couldn’t find enough meat in the territory, they would eventually leave. The Ant-men, however, were not only powerful but also so numerous as to be despair-inducing. And worst of all, they destroyed crops!

The short, stout, and balding Father Phil deeply agreed with the Earl’s point of view but was powerless to help with his problem. Most of the Church’s armed forces in Gambis had been transferred to the Sasan Empire, and the remainder were concentrated in the Centaur Hills. Right now, they truly had no way to support Earl Chepman.

“My lord Earl, compared to your fief, the Centaur Hills is the hardest-hit area. The Church’s forces are already gathered there. Of course, the Church will not stand by and let the Ant-men destroy your lands. A legion of Sacred Warriors stationed in the Kingdom of Ayr is already on the march. They are expected to arrive here in another five months. Before then, I must ask you to hold your ground. That is the duty of a lord, is it not?”

The priest’s soft but firm words left Chepman feeling a bit helpless. Lords and the Church were supposed to be partners when facing other races. Father Phil was reminding him that the Church was not the lords’ nanny.

“Fine. After this Ant-man plague, my people will face a famine. Surely the Church won’t just stand by and do nothing, will it?”

Earl Chepman revealed his true intentions. The Ant-men were coming to the walls to die every day; it wouldn’t even take five months for their numbers to be weakened to a point where they could be dealt with. But this year’s harvest would surely be disastrous. The Earl wanted the Church to help him bear some of the losses.

“There will certainly be food. As for… how to distribute the relief grain, that will require discussion among everyone. Besides the Church, the other lords should also bear a portion of the burden, for example, the families behind the Chepman fief. The Gambis Royal Family must also… Oh goodness, I’ll just go to the walls and see if anyone needs healing.”

Under Earl Chepman’s burning gaze, Father Phil clutched his head and fled.

The priest’s desertion left Chepman speechless, and the Earl’s heart filled with anxiety for the future.

“Who will make up for such huge grain losses? What if a tide of refugees comes from the Briatte family’s lands?”

Seeing his liege lord lost in thought, Berna prepared to leave on tiptoe, but the Earl called out to him.

“Berna, you deliberately snapped a longbow. The cost will be deducted from your annual tribute!”

Berna: “…I knew it!”

Chapter 121: Arrogance

“Awnk!”

The Swiftbird was fleeing for its life. Its thick, powerful claws trampled a thicket of bushes, the strong wind from its passage causing the branches to sway nonstop. Narsen, lying low in the saddle, glanced back from time to time. He was regretting his actions so much he could taste it!

Five hours ago, Narsen had finally returned to Victor’s fief. Along the way, guided by the Ash Falcon, he had cautiously skirted several Ant-man swarms, taking massive detours. To recover his strength, Narsen found a relatively safe place to make camp and rest. After feeding his Swiftbird and getting plenty of rest himself, he was preparing to set off again when he spotted a lone Ant-man.

Without a second thought, Narsen had raised his hand and hurled his battleaxe. However, the Ant-man had easily caught the rapidly spinning axe! Narsen’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. The axe weighed a full one hundred and twenty pounds, and propelled by his immense strength, its killing power was astonishing! Narsen was certain that not even a Knight could have caught his thrown axe head-on, yet this Ant-man had not only caught it, but it hadn’t even taken a single step back; its four limbs had merely sunk a few centimeters into the ground.

The Ant-man was clearly enraged, and it threw the battleaxe back. Narsen dodged with a clumsy roll, luckily saving his own life. The axe struck an iron oak tree as thick as a man’s waist behind him, snapping it in two. The shocking power made Narsen’s hair stand on end. He leaped onto his Swiftbird and began to flee for his life.

Bang!

A mound of earth burst apart, and a shiny, dark figure charged out from behind the flying dirt and stones. The Ant-man was catching up again. Narsen yanked the reins, and the Swiftbird veered, leaping onto a nearby mound and scrambling up it on its long legs without pause. The Ant-man followed it up the slope, but its speed was unavoidably slowed for a moment. It let out a sharp screech, vowing to never let its prey escape.

In truth, this Ant-man was even faster than the Swiftbird. If not for the Swiftbird’s superb ability to traverse obstacles and make sharp turns, Narsen would have been caught long ago. However, seeing the Ant-man’s overwhelming momentum—smashing rocks and breaking trees in its path—Narsen was crying foul internally. This monster had been chasing him for so long, yet it was still full of energy. It was only a matter of time before it caught him!

Narsen knew he had to do something. If he kept running like this, he was finished. The Swiftbird’s heart was pounding like a drum; it was reaching its limit. Turning back to fight was impossible; the Ant-man was clearly a Silver-rank monster. The only way was to use a moment when its view was blocked by an obstacle to jump off the bird’s back, hide in some concealed corner, and pray that the Ant-man would chase the Swiftbird instead.

A turn up ahead was the perfect spot! Narsen urged the Swiftbird onward, but the scene that met his eyes made him suck in a cold breath. Five giant wolves, as large as calves, blocked the Swiftbird’s path. Dire wolves!

For a long time, the fief had been plagued by wolves. Narsen had always wanted to kill these beasts and bring peace to the territory, but he had never been able to find a trace of the dire wolves. Now, he had finally encountered them, at this fatal moment!

“Run, old pal. Thanks for carrying me all these days! It’s my turn to do something for you!”

Narsen leaped from the saddle, patted the uneasy Swiftbird, raised his only battleaxe, and with a furious roar, charged toward the dire wolves. With dire wolves blocking his path and a Silver-rank monster in hot pursuit, he was already dead! But even in death, he would take a few of them with him!

The five dire wolves let out terrifying howls. Their lurid green eyes instantly turned blood-red, the blue-black fur of their manes stood on end, and their powerful bodies seemed to swell by two sizes. Like arrows, they shot past Narsen and pounced directly on the Ant-man behind him.

Narsen, his battleaxe held high, had charged forward a full twenty meters before he froze, dumbfounded.

Facing the five ferocious Warhounds, the Commander Ant-man displayed overwhelming strength. It reared up on its hind legs and slammed a fist down. The ferocious, unmatched force sent the first Warhound flying more than ten meters. With the sound of shattering bone, the Warhound’s deformed skull smashed into a large tree, and after rolling a few times on the ground, it lay still.

However, the Warhounds in their Bloodlust state were incredibly fast. After the Ant-man killed the first Warhound, the others had already thrown themselves upon it, tearing at it madly. Unfortunately, the Commander Ant-man’s carapace was tougher than armor; the Warhounds’ sharp teeth could not harm its body. The Commander Ant-man grabbed another Warhound with its upper limbs, while its middle pair of arms formed fists and struck upward. With a dull thud, the Warhound’s body bulged into a horrifying shape, and blood spurted from its mouth and nose.

Tossing the Warhound’s corpse aside, the Ant-man seized a third Warhound and was about to rip it in two when a glint of cold light shot toward it, piercing through its head before the screech of torn air could even be heard.

Mortally wounded, the Ant-man let out a wild shriek and tore the Warhound in its grasp clean in two. It then stomped heavily on the fourth Warhound, the violent force causing it to explode on the spot. Flesh and blood splattered everywhere; the bloody, brutal scene was impossible to watch.

The Commander Ant-man chased after the last fleeing Warhound, a long crossbow bolt still protruding from its head. The seemingly comical sight was unspeakably horrifying.

Narsen stood rooted to the spot. In a brief moment, he had gone from life to death, and from death back to life. The bloody, tragic battle had occurred and ended for no apparent reason. Right now, his mind was in complete chaos.

“Narsen!”

A familiar figure stood up from a distant thicket. Narsen cried out in a choked voice, “My lord Victor!”

“Come quickly! A Commander Ant-man has died. The swarm will be here soon!”

Victor waved his hand, and several burly men emerged from their hiding places. In the distance, two strange little carts ran over, pulled by two other massive wolves.

“My lord, this…”

“Let’s go! We’ll talk once we’re somewhere safe!”

Victor pulled the dazed Narsen onto one of the small carts, and they drove west.

——————————————

“How does it feel to ride in a dog cart?”

“My lord, I’ve ridden in horse-drawn carriages and ox-drawn carts, but this is my first time in a dog cart…” Narsen said with a wry smile.

By dusk, they had arrived at a simple camp. Here, Narsen saw a few familiar faces: Reno, Shak, and a few others whose names he couldn’t recall. But most of the faces were unfamiliar, as were the dozen or so docile giant wolves.

Looking at these giant wolves, Narsen’s expression was a little complicated. Although he hadn’t asked anything on the way here, he understood that the wolf plague in the fief had been orchestrated by Victor. No wonder these dire wolves had never attacked any of them.

For the past few days, Victor had been commanding the Alchemical humans to carry out demolitions. He wanted to transport as many bricks as possible to his secret base to build a giant brick kiln there. At the same time, Victor hadn’t given up on searching for Narsen. However, his alchemical crows needed a scent and a direction to search for a target, and Victor had neither Narsen’s personal belongings nor any idea where he had gone.

Helpless, Victor could only release all several dozen alchemical crows to see if they could find any living people. It was because of this that Victor had quickly learned of Narsen being chased by the Commander Ant-man, which led to the earlier events and simultaneously exposed the secret of the dire wolves. Victor knew Narsen would find it hard to accept for a moment, but he’d had no choice at the time. He couldn’t just stand by and watch Narsen be killed by the Commander Ant-man.

Victor mulled it over for a moment. “Narsen, we’ll talk about your questions later. First, let’s talk about what’s happened these past few days.”

“Yes, my lord!”

Narsen’s spirits lifted, and he recounted in detail the events of the past few days.

“So that’s how it is. I was wondering why there were so few Ant-men in the fief. Narsen, you not only saved the Purple Cane forest in the fief, but Eskri should also thank you properly; only a few thousand Ant-men attacked him. It’s just… Earl Chapman is probably crying his eyes out! Haha!” After hearing Narsen’s story, Victor couldn’t help but laugh heartily.

Narsen didn’t mention that he had refused the Chapman family’s recruitment offer, but his loyalty was beyond doubt, having risked returning to Victor’s fief from the safety of Blue Goose Keep. Victor was very pleased by this, especially since it was Narsen’s luring the Ant-man tide away that had given him more room to maneuver.

Victor’s smile faded. “Lilia is fine, and the old pals from War Bear are safe too. It’s just that many of the Guards we trained have died…”

Victor spoke in great detail, and Narsen listened, dumbfounded. When Victor told him the secret of the Commander Ant-men and the York family’s plot against the fief, Narsen jumped to his feet.

“My lord, the York family is too despicable! We absolutely cannot leave the fief!” Narsen shouted angrily.

Victor shook his head. “The fief is so large that if we just hide, the York family will certainly never find us. But what’s the use? Even if we hide like ground-rats in deep burrows, the Senate will immediately pass a resolution for the York family to take over this fief. The Gambis Royal Family will announce my death, and if I dare to show my face, the Royal Family will kill me directly! No lord will speak for us, and the Church will only pretend to be deaf and dumb.”

“Why? The Nobles are trampling on the rules. How can the Church not intervene?” Narsen raged.

“Because it’s the prevailing sentiment! This Ant-man tide has turned the Centaur Hills from a rear area into a front line. The Gambis Royal Family wants the York family to stay in the Centaur Hills. The Ant-men are monsters, and the York family is a threat. Pitting them against each other, the Royal Family kills two birds with one stone. And for the other lords and the Church, as long as some family is willing to block the Ant-men in the Centaur Hills, that’s all that matters! Of course, this family must be strong, and isn’t the York family the best choice?”

Narsen was silent for a long time before saying hoarsely, “So we can only give up this huge piece of land?”

Victor clapped Narsen on the shoulder. “What else? Even if the York family didn’t want our fief, do you think people would still dare to come here? Would the subjects believe we have the strength to protect them? Even if we gave them the land for free, no one would dare to come!”

“Let’s assume we successfully hold onto this fief. Do you know what would happen? The Church would build a fortress here, station a massive army, and before long, this fief would become the Church’s territory, while I would only have the title of lord!”

“The Royal Family won’t be on our side, the lords won’t, the Church won’t, and even the common folk won’t! This is the grand tide of affairs! In the face of this tide, what does crushing a small, unaccommodating lord matter? I’d be a real fool to fight to the death here!”

Narsen sighed. “I understand!”

Victor laughed loudly. “Narsen, you don’t understand!”

“Narsen, what do you think of these Warhounds I’ve bred?” Victor asked, seeing Narsen’s confused gaze.

Narsen said with a serious expression, “My lord, these dire wolves… are very powerful. I’m confident I could handle two of them. I could barely manage three. Any more than that, and I wouldn’t even be able to run away.”

Victor nodded in agreement. The Alchemical Warhounds were far more terrifying than dire wolves because they were fearless and had the Bloodlust ability. Although the Commander Ant-man had easily killed four Warhounds, if Victor was willing to sacrifice them, throwing twenty Warhounds at it at once would surely tear it to shreds.

“What do you think of the strength of Reno and the others?” Victor asked, pointing to the surrounding Alchemical militia.

“Very strong!” Narsen said seriously after a moment’s thought.

Narsen had sparred with Reno. He had to admit that Reno’s strength was inferior to his, but his combat skills were exceptionally high, even higher than his own. If Reno’s body weren’t less resilient than his, he wasn’t sure he could have suppressed him.

“I have hundreds of warriors like Reno, and I have over a hundred Warhounds! Narsen, do you know what this means?” Victor said proudly.

Narsen’s eyes lit up. “Strength!”

“Hehe, that’s right! Strength!” Victor picked up a leaf and tossed it into a small stream. “You see this leaf? When it encounters a whirlpool, it gets sucked in and can’t even float out. We used to be like this leaf—no foundation, no strength, always spinning within the rules set by the lords, drifting with the current, unable to control our own destiny.”

As he spoke, he kicked a large stone into the stream. “See that? This stone is like the York family. The rules will just flow around it like the water in this stream!”

“My lord, I get it!” Narsen said excitedly. “As long as you build up your army, no one can take this fief away!”

Victor shook his head. “Narsen, I don’t want to be a leaf, and I have no intention of becoming a stone. With such power, why shouldn’t we choose to stand on the bank and change the course of this stream!”

Narsen: “…”

To think of changing the rules with an army of barely a thousand men… Victor’s arrogance left Narsen speechless.

Chapter 122: Unstoppable

Seeing Narsen’s speechless expression, Victor knew what he was thinking. “Of course, I know that with this little bit of strength, we can only be a rock in a stream. But there is another kind of invincible power! In the face of that power, forget about this little stream—it could even divert the Goldwater River! And that power is just waiting for us to seize it!”

“What power?!” Narsen asked, his gaze burning. He thought of the faction behind Victor.

“The power of ordinary people!” Victor said faintly.

Narsen: “…”

Seeing Narsen wearing that same expression again, Victor felt a pang of awkwardness. He pondered for a moment before saying, “Narsen, the power of ordinary people is far greater than you can imagine. Castles are built by ordinary people, fields are cleared by ordinary people, weapons are forged by ordinary people… What’s with that look?”

Narsen said innocently, “My lord, I know all that! Isn’t that just what ordinary people do?”

Victor: “…Alright, let me show you something!”

“Bang!”

Splinters flew as a Thorium crossbow bolt pierced straight through the trunk of a giant tree, vanishing in an instant.

Victor tossed the heavy crossbow to Narsen and said, “I used this heavy crossbow to kill the Ant-man that was chasing you. Shak used it to kill that Savage Bear. What do you think of this weapon?”

Narsen caressed the pale, bluish-white heavy crossbow and said fanatically, “Vicious! Perfect!”

“Narsen, could an ordinary soldier carrying a heavy crossbow like this kill a Knight?” Victor asked.

Narsen shook his head. “Impossible! An ordinary soldier can’t keep up with a Knight’s speed.”

“What about a hundred of them? A thousand?”

Narsen was visibly shaken. “Forget a hundred—if you had just ten archers like Shak armed with these heavy crossbows, even a Knight wouldn’t escape death! I’m afraid even a Silver Knight would have to flee for his life! My lord, are you saying…?”

Victor nodded. “Since one heavy crossbow exists, more can obviously be made. Once ordinary people possess military strength comparable to Knights, the world will change. And this weapon is in our hands. Now, we need more people to wield it!”

“My lord, just say the word! What do you need me to do?” Narsen said solemnly, a glimmer of a different future appearing before his eyes.

“I plan to build a mercenary company… I’m telling you, can you stop making that face all the time!” Victor glared at the dumbfounded Narsen and continued, “We can’t just keep running around in our own territory. The York family’s control here is a foregone conclusion. We must break free from the confines of this territory and seek more opportunities.”

“This time, during the fight against the Ant-men, the War Bear Mercenaries left a deep impression on me. Every one of them is a battle-hardened warrior, a precious talent! For too long, many excellent mercenaries have been sacrificed on the battlefield as mere cannon fodder. This is a tremendous loss! But the lords don’t care. Knights never see ordinary people as their own kind.”

“The mercenary company we’re forming will be for cultivating this kind of talent, like commanders such as Baritt, who will surely become outstanding generals in the future. Because the very nature of warfare will change because of us.”

Narsen reminded him cautiously, “My lord, a mercenary company’s income is unstable, and the risks are high. Recruiting people won’t be easy. Uh, what I mean to ask is, what are we forming a mercenary company for?”

“Heh, the mercenary company we form won’t be taking on missions for others. It will exist solely to open up trade routes! It will serve only my merchant association! As for personnel, Reno and his men are the best soldiers,” Victor said, full of confidence.

For some time now, Victor had been pondering a question: the Alchemy Tower would soon be at full capacity. Should he display his strength to secure this territory? Should he go to war with the York family?

Victor’s conclusion was that he could not fight them. Setting aside the question of whether he could win, he looked directly at the consequences. If he lost, there was nothing to say—death was certain. But what if he won? Could he hold on to the Alchemy Tower? That was clearly impossible. The York family’s leadership over the Centaur Hills was what everyone wanted and the way the grand tide of affairs was flowing. His own greatest weakness was that his foundation was too shallow; he had no backers. Going to war with the York family would be tantamount to declaring war on all the other powers. That was simply suicide!

A Thorium heavy crossbow might be able to kill a Silver Knight, but what if a Gold Knight came for a decapitation strike? The thought sent a chill down Victor’s spine. Moreover, the York family had never treated him as an enemy; they had always been partners. So why should he treat them as an enemy? If he put himself in the York family’s shoes, controlling the entrance to the Great Marsh was a necessary move. Strictly speaking, the Ant-men were their common enemy.

Since he had decided to cooperate with the York family, what was the path forward? Victor stroked the Thorium heavy crossbow and suddenly had an epiphany. All this time, he had been operating within the framework of a lord, even trying to cram modern ideas into his territory, resulting in a poor fit that left him battered and bruised. Now, with a fully staffed Alchemy Tower, he had enough power to break free from the constraints set by the lords and the Church.

Victor realized there was a vast, untapped source of wealth in the human world: ordinary people. The knightly class looked down on commoners. Even the vassalage system only liberated a small fraction of the common man’s power, tasking them with little more than farming, building castles, and training a few elite soldiers. The Church did indeed protect ordinary people, but it merely treated them like a flock of sheep. What looked like protection was actually a set of heavy shackles, completely stifling their development. Knights, clergy, elite soldiers, castles—such simple tactics were the reason humanity was being steadily defeated by the other races. But things were different now. The Thorium heavy crossbow could allow ordinary people to unleash terrifying combat power, enough to change the human world.

Now, what Victor had to do was seize this unstoppable power. He thought of another path for development: the East India Company, an organization that was both a military and a commercial entity.

There was a strange phenomenon in this world: powerful nobles couldn’t engage in commerce, and those who engaged in commerce had no power. There were, of course, practical reasons for this. But the lords had forgotten that there was another force that could engage in business: the freemen!

Lords had a love-hate relationship with freemen. Too few was a problem, but too many was a disaster. Yet, freemen possessed an advantage the lords did not: they were free! Lords could not stop the movement of freemen! Therefore, freemen could become merchants. The factor limiting them was their own feeble strength. But Victor could solve that problem. He would form a mercenary company to engage in smuggling!

Victor’s plan was as follows: with the Alchemical militia as the main force and the War Bear Mercenaries as the leaders, he would form dozens of mercenary companies. He would then attract a number of freemen to form small merchant caravans to enter the mountains and buy goods from the Mountain folk.

The unlicensed merchant caravans would bypass the borders of established territories, seeking out weaker domains. The freemen would enter these territories as small-time peddlers, selling their goods and buying local specialties, then moving on to other places to make a profit. Of course, most of these minor lords would try to confiscate the unlicensed goods. That’s when the mercenary companies would step in. The Alchemical militia, armed with heavy crossbows, would teach those little lords a lesson. They would fight until it hurt, until the lord sat down to negotiate. Then they would pull these minor lords into their own interest group. A stick and a carrot, a mix of coercion and enticement, would gradually form an invisible power.

If lords banded together to wipe out one of his caravans, that was fine. Victor would choose to unleash the hounds. Twenty Alchemical Warhounds would be enough to bring a lord’s domain to its knees. These alchemical creatures were incredibly fast and possessed beastly intuition; not even a Gold Knight could hope to exterminate them. When the lord could no longer bear the pressure, a mercenary company specializing in dealing with “dire wolves” would show up at their door: “We’ll take care of the dire wolves for you. In return, you let us trade here!”

As more and more lords joined, this power would snowball, growing larger and larger until it was unstoppable! Eventually, it would form an organization akin to the East India Company. And Victor would be the big boss.

In the beginning, Victor would remain behind the scenes. This was an inspiration he drew from the York family’s three freemen organizations. The mercenary companies were freemen organizations, and their conflicts with other lords had nothing to do with Victor. In fact, the lords and the Church would have no way to trace it back to him. The Alchemical militia would never betray him, and the War Bear Mercenaries would gradually retreat into the background, becoming the organization’s upper echelon.

Now, the most crucial step was to gain the support of the War Bear Mercenaries, which was why Victor was revealing his secrets to Narsen.

“When our power becomes unstoppable, the York family will obediently return this territory to us! In fact, the York family is also a party we should try to unite with!”

“The Church’s intervention? They won’t. The Church protects freemen; they don’t care if freemen are rich or poor, only about their faith. You have to understand, faith and actions are two different things! For all the freemen who want to join our smuggling caravans, we’ll have them pray regularly. We’ll make donations everywhere we go. The Church will be too happy to object!”

“The process of consolidation will certainly be bloody, but we won’t aim to conquer castles. We’ll only fight field battles with those disobedient lords. If they can’t stop the Ant-men, they can’t stop me! However many soldiers you lose, I’ll replenish them. Don’t worry, I have people behind me!” Victor patted Narsen’s shoulder, brimming with confidence.

Narsen’s fists cracked as he clenched them. He said excitedly, “My lord! I don’t quite understand what’s going on, but it sounds really impressive!”

Victor: “…”

“My lord, you just said you have people behind you?”

“I do! But they’re already dead!”

“Ah?!”

“However, I inherited their legacy!”

“Oh!”

“My lord, there’s one more thing…”

“Speak!”

Narsen said earnestly, “Reno and the others are ordinary people, right? There must be a method for them to become so strong! Can you teach me? I want to become stronger!”

Under Narsen’s anxious gaze, Victor remained silent for a long time. “I can teach you, but I can’t make any guarantees. As you’ve seen, Reno and the others aren’t exactly the sharpest tools in the shed. Clever people generally can’t learn it! And it might even be dangerous!”

“I want to try! I don’t want to be chased all over the place by Ant-men anymore!” Narsen said with determination.

Victor nodded. “But you must remember, you absolutely cannot pass it on to anyone else! And not a word of what I’ve told you today can be leaked! That includes the Warhounds and the Thorium crossbows. Some secrets must be buried deep!”

“I promise!”

Victor and Narsen shook hands firmly. “Good! Narsen, let’s create a new era together! Ah…”

“My lord? What’s wrong?”

“I think you just fractured my hand! Can’t you use a little less force?!”

Chapter 123: Simplified Mystic Form

Reno was shirtless, his eyes half-closed. His muscles rippled like waves, one layer after another. After six months of practicing the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form, the exaggerated, blocky muscles on his body had vanished, replaced by smooth, streamlined lines. Yet his Physique attribute had not diminished in the slightest, while the efficiency of his power output had greatly improved. In battle, he could now unleash greater strength and conserve more stamina. This was, in essence, an increase in combat effectiveness. After all, having massive muscles was pointless if one couldn’t use their full strength.

Strictly speaking, the Alchemical militia were not combat units of the Néier Empire. They were alchemical creatures primarily designed for gathering rare resources in complex environments. An Alchemical militiaman was originally no match for an apprentice knight. It was only because they were loaded with Mystic Forms that they possessed the combat strength to rival, or even surpass, an apprentice knight.

Reno relaxed from his Ox-Subduing Mystic Form training stance. The writhing muscles on his body settled, and he clasped his hands into a fist, raised them above his head, and stretched upward. A series of crackling pops echoed from his bones as he concluded his training for the day.

His posture for practicing the Mystic Form was precise, his movements fluid. One couldn’t find a single flaw. Victor knew that practicing a Mystic Form was no simple task. Posture, movement, and mindset had to be perfectly synchronized; any mistake could result in injury.

If it weren’t for X-3 correcting his movements and blocking the pain, Victor himself would never have been able to practice the advanced stages of the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form directly. He would most likely still be practicing the basic stances. The Alchemical militia, too, benefited from the cheat-like advantage of having skills loaded into them, making their practice of Mystic Forms feel like an instinct. If an ordinary person were to attempt practicing an advanced Mystic Form directly, the results would be disastrous.

Victor glanced at Narsen beside him, and the corner of his mouth couldn’t help but twitch.

Narsen was also shirtless. His muscles weren’t the bulging, knotted type, but possessed a solidity that seemed forged from steel. At this moment, ridges of sinew would occasionally bulge across his dense body, looking like a great, dark-green serpent coiling and slithering over him. Veins popped on his forehead, his eyes were wide with exertion, and beads of sweat streamed down his face. He looked quite terrifying.

Victor felt a pang of concern. Just as he was about to tell Narsen to stop, he saw him fall straight to the ground. His body remained locked in the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form’s posture, making him look as though he had stiffened in death.

Victor shook his head resignedly. This had happened to Narsen more times than he could count. The first time, Victor had been given quite a scare. If the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form was practiced incorrectly, muscle strains were a minor issue; the most terrifying possibility was internal bleeding. Fortunately, Narsen always recovered quickly, and it wasn’t long before he was up and about again. After a few such incidents, Victor had grown accustomed to it.

Sure enough, Narsen’s stiff body gradually relaxed. He lay on the ground gasping for breath for a moment before scrambling back to his feet, muttering,

“That’s awful. Just standing there and exerting force like that… I nearly strangled myself. My bones ache and itch. How does Reno even manage to stick with it?”

Victor curled his lip. “How many times have I told you? Now is not the time to be practicing the advanced stages of the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form. You need to do some basic exercises first and learn the synchronized breathing method… Oh, and visualization! Only by learning to visualize can you overcome the physical and mental pain. Otherwise, you’ll never be able to endure the training… If a normal person tried to brute-force it like you, they would’ve killed themselves long ago.”

Narsen scratched his head and said sheepishly, “But the basic exercises don’t do anything for me. The breathing method is one thing… but this visualization is just too difficult!”

Victor was speechless. He had once told Narsen to practice the relatively safer Spirit Monkey Mystic Form, but Narsen had shown no interest, insisting on practicing the strength-enhancing Ox-Subduing Mystic Form. He had even declared with conviction, “Warriors should fight head-on!”

Victor had been practicing the Mystic Form for some time himself. As far as the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form was concerned, he believed it had two important functions: first, it helped the practitioner quickly reach the limits of their physique; second, it fully unlocked the practitioner’s potential. Of course, the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form could not help him break through his body’s physical limits. If one were to compare the human body to a bottle, the Mystic Form could fill the bottle to the brim. It could also turn a narrow-necked bottle into a wide-necked one, but it could not make the bottle itself any larger.

Victor had already pushed his own Physique to its limit, and the Alchemical militia’s physical limits were also predetermined. Since Narsen insisted, Victor was curious to see just how effective the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form would be for him. Even if Narsen’s Physique had reached its peak, the Mystic Form could still effectively unlock his potential. This would be a tremendous help to Narsen. Compared to Ferocious warriors, the advantage of Knights lay in their ability to fully utilize their own combat strength.

Narsen’s enthusiasm for training surpassed Victor’s expectations. He skipped the basic, low-level exercises and dove straight into the advanced training. Although he suffered a great deal, he was tireless in his efforts, because he could clearly feel his own strength becoming “alive”.

Watching Narsen rely on his extraordinary physique to train so recklessly, Victor had a flash of inspiration. He began to try and modify the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form himself.

The Ox-Subduing Mystic Form was simply too difficult for ordinary people to practice. If one followed the proper steps, it would take at least ten years to achieve even minor results. Victor wanted to devise a simplified version of the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form that could help ordinary people increase their strength.

“Narsen, come try the new method I just improved,” Victor said with a grin. “This time, the effect will definitely be better than the last two.”

Narsen replied helplessly, “My lord, your modified methods only make my whole body hot and break out in a sweat. The effect isn’t as good as the proper Ox-Subduing Mystic Form!”

“The previous three methods were only intermediate Mystic Forms. Er, this one is still an intermediate Mystic Form… However, it’s very close to an advanced one. I believe that if you train with this new method for a while, practicing the actual Ox-Subduing Mystic Form won’t be so strenuous for you! Alright, enough nonsense! Get over here, or you can forget about learning the next three postures. I don’t want you practicing yourself to death!”

With a perfect test subject like Narsen and the corrections from X-3, Victor successfully derived seven simplified postures for the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form. These postures, ranging from simple to complex, were divided into four elementary and three intermediate levels, forming a progressive training sequence. Victor ambitiously planned to derive a total of twelve postures across elementary, intermediate, and advanced levels. The elementary postures were the simplest, essentially the basic exercises of the original Ox-Subduing Mystic Form. The intermediate postures were a simplified version that Victor had corrected dozens of times. As for the advanced postures, he had yet to begin deriving them.

The “Simplified Ox-Subduing Mystic Form” that Victor had concocted was less effective than the original, but it could still make a Ferocious warrior like Narsen break out in a heavy sweat. Moreover, the simplified version was simple, easy to learn, and had little risk, making it suitable for ordinary people. Victor ordered several Lithe Ape militiamen to begin practicing this new Mystic Form, intending to observe its effects.

As dusk settled, Victor finally finished correcting the fourth Mystic Form posture.

A bonfire was lit. A whole yellow goat, skin and all, sizzled as it roasted over the flames, dripping with fat. Its fragrant aroma filled the air, exceptionally tempting.

“Narsen, once I finish organizing these new Mystic Forms, we can have the War Bear members start practicing them… I’ll call this training method the Narsen Training Method. What do you think?” Victor said with a smile, looking at Narsen. Narsen had certainly suffered a great deal for the sake of deriving the simplified form.

Narsen hastily waved his hands. “No! Absolutely not! If those old pals of mine found out, they’d laugh me to death… My lord, why not call it the War Bear Mystic Form instead?”

Victor shook his head with a laugh. “That was just a joke. In truth, it can be called neither the Narsen Training Method nor the War Bear Mystic Form. In the future, all the War Bear members will have to operate as freemen, each forming their own mercenary company. Until the caravan is strong enough, we absolutely cannot expose the connection between us.”

“My lord, to be honest, my old pals all miss the mercenary life,” Narsen said excitedly. “It’s just that most mercenary companies are very weak, and deaths are common, so everyone became afraid. But now, with powerful warriors like Reno and Shak joining, there’ll definitely be no problem! Hehe, I used to dream of making the War Bear Company the most powerful mercenary company in existence. Now I finally have the chance.”

“Don’t get so excited,” Victor said blandly. “You won’t have a part in it.”

“Huh?”

“You’re too well-known. You’d be recognized too easily. It’s better for you to stay by my side and handle things behind the scenes. Besides, I’m planning to build a massive organization. These mercenary companies are just a transitional phase; they will eventually be integrated into a vast armed force. Of course, you don’t need to worry about having nothing to do. In a few years, the other members of the War Bear Company will also have to step back, taking on roles in recruitment, training, organization, and management. For instance, we will establish numerous training bases to continuously produce warriors for the caravan, some of whom will even need to be trained from childhood.”

After comforting the somewhat crestfallen Narsen, Victor continued, “I plan to assign five warriors like Reno and fifteen archers like Shak to each mercenary company, and equip them with five Ash Falcons. What do you think?”

Narsen was taken aback by Victor’s ambitious plan. He advised, “My lord, that’s not necessary! If the mercenary companies are that powerful, they’ll be far too conspicuous! Three warriors are enough, and no more than ten archers. The other members can be recruited from ordinary folk. They can’t take the Ash Falcons, either. If dozens of mercenary companies all have Ash Falcons, the connection between them will be exposed immediately!”

Victor conceded that Narsen had a point. He nodded, then frowned and said, “But will that be enough strength? Our mercenary companies might come into conflict with Knights.”

“My lord, you’re underestimating the strength of Reno and Shak!” Narsen explained. “I’ve sparred with Reno these past few days. He’s even stronger than an apprentice knight; an ordinary Knight wouldn’t be able to take him down easily. With two warriors like Reno, plus five archers like Shak, even a Knight would have to think twice. They won’t risk their lives to fight a mercenary company to the death… it’s just not worth it.”

Victor asked again, “And what if they encounter a Knight like Bruce?”

“My lord, as long as it’s not an encounter on a battlefield, Knights generally won’t slaughter a mercenary company without reason. Even on a battlefield, a Silver Knight would rarely deal with a mercenary company personally, otherwise, we would have all been wiped out long ago. I heard a story about a Silver Knight who slaughtered three mercenary companies in a row. Afterward, he was arrested by the Church… In reality, when we escort caravans, we mostly encounter apprentice knights. The caravans just use us as a shield against Knights… The main adversaries for mercenary companies are Gnolls and Mountain folk bandits.”

Victor had a sudden realization. Mercenary companies were organizations of freemen. To the Church, both freemen and subjects were important sources of faith. The clergy would never sit idly by and watch a high-ranking Knight slaughter freemen. That would be tantamount to shaking the very foundations of the Church.

As long as the Knights stayed out of it, his move to enlist freemen for his business ventures was the right one. Perhaps lords wouldn’t give a caravan of freemen trouble; any lord with a bit of sense would understand their territory needed trade. Lords attacked caravans when they were targeting those of rival families… If that was the case, things were much simpler. The enemies of a smuggling caravan were likely just bandits and monsters… Victor mused to himself, but he still had a nagging feeling that it wasn’t that simple.

The bonfire flickered, casting shifting light on Victor’s uncertain expression. He remained silent for a long time before finally saying, “It’s time to go and see Bruce and the others.”

Victor stood up, his resolve hardening.

“It’s useless to keep thinking about it! For a path that no one has ever walked, the only way to know if it is passable is to walk it.”

Chapter 124: Resolve

Nicole sat on a grey stone over three meters high, her arms wrapped around her knees, her delicate chin resting upon them. Her lovely face was obscured by her long, beautiful hair. At this moment, she was just a vulnerable girl, not a powerful Knight.

Seeing Nicole like this, Trisley sighed inwardly. It had been three days since she, Nicole, Bruce, and Gellis—a party of four—had arrived at the appointed location, but Victor still hadn’t appeared. They had searched the area thoroughly but found no trace of him. As time passed, Nicole grew more and more silent, and Trisley worried that Victor had met with some accident.

Trisley was also a little worried, but she didn’t believe Victor would meet with misfortune. Since Victor had been able to send a message to Lilia, it meant he was safe and sound; besides, there weren’t that many Ant-men in this fief.

What Trisley feared was that Victor was deliberately hiding from them. That he was unwilling to abandon his fief and return with them to Black Fortress Town. But how could she explain something like this to Nicole? Should she tell her that the family needed Victor’s brick-making technology, that they needed to control his fief, and more importantly, that they couldn’t allow the secret of the Ant-man chief to be leaked—which was why she had been sent to bring him back? And that Victor was refusing to see them for that very reason?

“Bruce, come give me a hand. This is our dinner.”

The old Knight, Gellis, dragged over a half-grown wild boar. Bruce went forward and took the kill, deftly carving off the four legs and setting them to roast over the bonfire.

Bruce’s skill at preparing wild game was quite good. Before long, the enticing aroma of roasted meat filled the air. Gellis took a sniff and praised, “Good work! Greiralde was truly a demanding fellow.”

Bruce gave a wry smile. Noble Knights didn’t do manual labor, but hunting was an exception. It was a skill every attendant knight had to master, one that allowed a Knight to fill his stomach in the wild and could also please his tutor. Bruce had once been an apprentice knight, and Greiralde had been his tutor—a witty and lazy old Knight.

Bruce didn’t know Gellis; the family always had some forces operating in the shadows. But Gellis clearly knew Bruce’s tutor, and the old Knight’s words lessened the sense of unfamiliarity between them.

“You knew my Tutor?”

Gellis nodded, a look of reminiscence in his eyes. “I did. A pity he died so young. If it hadn’t been for… back then…”

“Is dinner ready?” Trisley cut Gellis off. She didn’t want to hear anyone mention what happened back then.

Bruce tactfully changed the subject. “Should I call Nicole?”

“Don’t worry about her! She won’t come down anyway.”

There was a hint of dissatisfaction in Trisley’s tone. Nicole was sitting up high so her beloved could see her at any moment, yet Victor remained hidden. In Trisley’s eyes, Victor was a cold-blooded lord, and Nicole was a complete and utter fool.

“Young people always have their own peculiar persistence,” Gellis said softly.

Bruce sighed. “A few months ago, right here, Victor helped Nicole slay the Old Ogre, and Nicole successfully advanced to a Knight. Victor’s courage left a deep impression on me…”

“Victor is a heartless lord now,” Trisley said coldly. “Nicole was willing to risk her life to save him, yet he refuses to see her just to protect his position. His shortsightedness and cold-bloodedness astonish me. I feel he isn’t worthy of her devotion.”

Bruce felt a little awkward. It was clearly the family that was using Victor’s feelings for Nicole, yet in Trisley’s mouth, it had become Victor’s fault. But he wasn’t about to try and argue with a woman, especially a Silver-rank Great Knight.

“Baron Wimbledon is very clever. He’ll figure it out… He’s just too young, perhaps a bit willful.” Gellis had once disguised himself as a farmer and lived in Victor’s fief for a time. The old knight was amazed by Victor’s many fantastic ideas and considered him a genius.

Trisley snorted but said nothing. She had to admit that the few Knights in the family who had been in close contact with Victor, including Sylvia, all held him in high regard.

Night had fallen. On a mound two kilometers away, Victor stood atop a redwood tree more than thirty meters tall, gazing at Nicole from afar. The dim light of night could not obstruct his sharp vision. He had known the moment Nicole entered his fief, but he had deliberately kept the York family’s Knights waiting for three days.

On one hand, Victor needed this window of time to arrange for three Lithe Ape militiamen to go to Black Fortress Town. They would carry his orders and infiltrate the War Bear Mercenaries’ barracks. Victor could imagine that he would be isolated the moment he entered York family territory; they wouldn’t allow the secret of the Ant-men to leak before they had negotiated with the other powers.

On the other hand, Victor didn’t know how to face Nicole.

Victor knew Nicole liked him, and he liked her too, but he couldn’t say it was deep love. For Nicole’s sake, Victor had once faced the Old Ogre without hesitation; he couldn’t just stand by and watch a beautiful girl who liked him die at the hands of a monster. At that time, Victor had only just transmigrated. His heart was still filled with passion, he valued life, and he was ignorant and naive. The Victor of today had been ground down by reality into a lord accustomed to thinking in terms of profit and loss.

If he hadn’t received Barol’s intelligence, Victor would certainly have shown himself to Nicole. He didn’t have many friends in this world, and Nicole’s affection for him felt all the more precious. But now, Victor couldn’t help but doubt her motives. This suspicion gave rise to resentment, which was why he was unwilling to see Nicole and Bruce.

Under the hazy moonlight, Nicole, sitting on the grey stone, looked vulnerable and lonely. Victor was deeply moved. He began to question his own heart. Was he to become a cold person for the sake of power and wealth, casting aside kinship, love, and friendship? What was the point of such success? As a Knight, Nicole was strong, but as a girl, she was also vulnerable. If he could be heartless to her today, tomorrow he could sacrifice Narsen, sacrifice Lilia… Was this what he wanted?

He had faced many setbacks and had changed a great deal, but he shouldn’t change his true self. To change one’s core nature just to adapt to the environment was a sign of weakness. A truly strong person, when faced with adversity, should become wiser and more decisive, but they must never drift with the current and lose who they are.

Nicole was young, beautiful, and a Knight. Since he liked her, he should go and win her, snatching her right from the York family’s grasp!

Victor came to a sudden realization, and his gaze became firm and bright. He slid down the tree trunk, his body as light as a feather. Once on the ground, he said to Narsen, who was standing guard, “Narsen, be careful during this time. Remember, do not go near any of the camps in the fief, especially the Hill Camp!”

Narsen replied, “My lord, I’ll be careful. You need to be careful too.”

“The Countess of York is not a vicious person… I’ll be fine.” Victor paused, then said gravely, “The most dangerous person is actually you… As long as you don’t go near the camps, it shouldn’t be a big problem.”

Victor had decided to go to Black Fortress Town. As a precaution, he had prepared a backup plan: leaving Narsen behind. If the situation turned sour, Narsen would lead the Alchemical militia to carry out a rescue plan. The details of the rescue had already been carefully thought out.

In truth, Victor believed Sylvia wouldn’t harm him; on the contrary, she would try to win him over. Of course, being placed under house arrest was inevitable until the York family reached a consensus with the other powers. Victor happened to need that time to complete his own plans.

Narsen, roaming outside, would be the one in danger. To eliminate any hidden threats, the York family would show him no mercy. However, with the Ash Falcon and the Warhounds, it would be almost impossible for the York family’s Knights to find Narsen.

“I’m leaving! I’m taking Reno and Shak with me. The others are in your hands.”

Victor clapped Narsen on the shoulder, then turned and walked toward Nicole’s position, two Alchemical militiamen following close behind.

When he was about three hundred meters from the York Knights, Victor was discovered.

“Who’s there!” Trisley demanded.

Before Victor could answer, Nicole had already rushed over and thrown herself into his arms.

The warm tears on his shoulder, the trembling body in his arms, just like that time against the Savage Gnoll… Victor stroked Nicole’s hair and said softly,

“I’m sorry for making you worry.”

Tall and sturdy, with bristle-like, short brown hair that bespoke his toughness and confidence. As Marquess Enom’s most capable Silver Knight, Vinson had every reason to be proud.

Yet at this moment, Vinson stood with the utmost respect, awaiting Sylvia’s questions.

“Is this the Marquess’s idea alone?” Sylvia put down the letter, a faint smile on her lips.

Her brilliant red hair was casually tied up behind her head, her exquisite face held a charming smile, and her luscious red lips stood out against her snow-white skin, appearing especially alluring. From any angle, Sylvia’s beauty was flawless.

But in Vinson’s eyes, behind this beauty lay a power that could easily destroy him. The Great Knight spoke with even greater deference, “The Marquess has already allied with two Earls, one Viscount, and Duke Nimes. He is determined to support Earl York in the Senate to have his ducal title restored.”

As a Silver Knight, Vinson normally wouldn’t need to be so deferential as to be obsequious. But the York family was currently in a very dangerous position, and the Highness before him was as fearsome as a volcano about to erupt. No one knew when her fury would erupt or where it would be unleashed, and the Enom family, being closest to Black Fortress, would bear the brunt of it.

Sylvia nodded slightly, then emphasized, “I can feel the Marquess’s goodwill, but that is not enough! I’m sure you have already witnessed the destructive power of the Ant-men. We, the York family, need more support.”

Vinson was bitter. A group of Ant-men had indeed entered his family’s domain. The family army could only watch helplessly as they wantonly destroyed farmland and pastures. Marquess Enom had given a strict order: do not provoke them. The fates of the Chapman and Briatte families were now common knowledge. With these monsters, kill one and a squadron arrives; kill a squadron and a great swarm descends. If the York family hadn’t drawn away a huge number of the Ant-men, Marquess Enom’s fief would have suffered devastating destruction.

Therefore, the York family could not be allowed to withdraw from the Centaur Hills!

The Marquess had contacted the other lords in the west of the kingdom to fully support the York family in quelling this Ant-man plague, and hopefully, to persuade the York family to garrison the Centaur Hills… The family’s scholars believed the Ant-men had insectoid characteristics. There was likely an Ant-man queen behind the tide, and their offensive would not be limited to a single wave.

“Your Highness, we will dispatch our army to help you exterminate the Ant-men!” Vinson said firmly.

Sylvia shook her head. “A decisive battle with the Ant-men in the open is not the best option. The best way is to first use our fortresses to weaken their numbers, and only then dispatch our armies to exterminate them. We, the York family, can hold the Centaur Hills, but we need material support. By the way, Bishop Pello approves of our plan.”

Vinson was overjoyed. Supplying resources was a small matter; his fear was that the York family would accept the resources, then abandon the Centaur Hills and turn back east. With the Church’s endorsement, that would no longer be a problem.

“We will certainly give the York family our full support!”

A satisfied smile appeared on Sylvia’s face. She instructed, “Sir Vinson, please convey my stance to your master.”

Everything was going according to plan. All that was missing was Victor.

Chapter 125: Coming Clean

Victor was enveloped by the warm, clear water, so comfortable he almost moaned. From the start of the Ant-man tide until now, a full sixty days, he had finally stepped back into civilized lands.

The return journey was even more arduous than imagined. The York family knights were not on horseback; to avoid the ant swarms, they had chosen a number of rugged paths. As it turned out, a Knight’s stamina and speed far surpassed that of an ordinary warhorse. This was agony for Victor. While his maximum speed was faster than a Silver-rank Great Knight’s, his stamina was merely on par with an elite soldier’s.

Nicole would have been happy to carry Victor, but he adamantly refused. In front of the two ladies, Victor was unwilling even to let Reno carry him. With Victor as a burden, the team’s pace inevitably slowed.

Along the way, despite the hardship, Victor fully enjoyed Nicole’s gentle care. She tended to him as devotedly as a handmaiden. His two old acquaintances, Bruce and Gellis, turned a blind eye to this, and only the Great Knight Trisley would occasionally glare at the lovey-dovey pair.

Through his conversations with the York family knights, Victor learned the full details of the Ant-man plague. Over one hundred thousand Ant-men had invaded the Centaur Hills. Currently, only Baron Eskri’s castle and Earl Terlanden’s castle were still fighting them. The other castles had either been conquered or abandoned. The hundred thousand or so people of the Centaur Hills were all concentrated in Black Fortress Town for refuge, and the Prince’s Faction had completely withdrawn its forces from the region.

As for the territories outside the Centaur Hills, only Earl Chapman’s domain and Bryat’s fief were locked in a bitter struggle with the Ant-men. Other lords, emulating Black Fortress Town’s strategy, did not fire a single arrow at small groups of Ant-men, allowing them to destroy their crops.

Victor was very curious why the kingdom had allowed the Ant-men to run rampant without responding. Bruce told him that the kingdom had indeed reacted. Princess Royal Roland had led the Glory Knights straight to the kingdom’s eastern border to deter the Randt Empire. The kingdom’s main army had marched north to garrison the Minsk Fortress Cluster on the border, guarding against the Dodor Kingdom trying to take advantage of the situation. Marquess Golan had arrived in the west of the kingdom with the Swift Dragon Knights but had done nothing. The lords adjacent to the Centaur Hills were resisting Marquess Golan’s conscription on one hand, while fawning over the York family on the other, sending money and supplies. The attitude of these lords was crystal clear: they were unwilling to let the flames of war spread to their own lands and hoped the York family would hold the line at Black Fortress Town.

Victor understood that the York family had gained the support of the western lords and had seized the political initiative. The Church also held the York family in high regard, as Sylvia had sheltered over a hundred thousand people and saved one thousand Sacred Warriors. At the same time, Victor keenly sensed that the relationship between the York family and Grand Duke Williams was not as simple as an alliance—Black Fortress Town’s refusal to cooperate with the Swift Dragon Knights was clear proof of this.

And so, the York family knights traveled with Victor for more than ten days, finally arriving at Black Fortress Town. After reaching the town, Victor, accompanied by Bruce, made an appearance before his subjects and then took up residence in Rose Manor.

Before he even had a chance to see Lilia, Victor was led by an attendant into the manor’s bathroom to bathe. Victor readily accepted this arrangement. Although he possessed the Seamless talent and a body that was always spotlessly clean, a comfortable soak in the bath was a form of relaxation for both body and mind.

The bathroom in Rose Manor was opulent and comfortable. Victor, with no mind to appreciate the exquisite decorations, lay in the pool with his eyes closed, contemplating how to negotiate with Sylvia.

In truth, Victor’s demands were not high. He hoped to complete his transformation into one of the commercial nobility under the York family’s cover and obtain a sizable sum of startup capital. The bargaining chip in his hand was the special brick manufacturing technology the York family so desperately wanted.

Victor didn’t think Sylvia would harm him. She had always taken good care of him and had never shown any ill will. Victor admitted that this trust stemmed from their intimate relationship, and Sylvia held a special place in his heart. Besides, any wise lord would not refuse such a small request. Sylvia clearly possessed more than enough magnanimity and wisdom.

Victor’s only worry was that Sylvia’s authority might be constrained by other members of the York family. He had left Narsen behind precisely to handle such a contingency. However, since the York family had not yet obtained the special brick technology, they were unlikely to turn on him hastily. The longer things dragged on, the stronger Victor would become.

In just forty days, Victor already had eighty Alchemical militia under his command. In another six months, the number of Alchemical militia would reach its peak—at least over eight hundred. This force was not yet enough to challenge the entire Kingdom of Gambia, but it was sufficient to stand against any single lord’s power.

From the bottom of his heart, Victor had no desire for a mutually destructive struggle with the York family. He was no brainless warmonger, nor did he harbor the foolish ambition of unifying the human world. He only wanted to use the legacy of the Alchemical Empire to build an enterprise of his own, and the greatest value of Alchemy Tower No. 7 lay in creation, not destruction.

A slender, porcelain-white foot dipped into the water, followed by a beautiful, jade-like calf. Before Victor’s astonished eyes, Sylvia had already sat down beside him.

Victor noticed that Sylvia’s golden hair had become as brilliant as fire, and a dark red ring had appeared within her azure eyes. Molten lava seemed to surge within that dark red, containing an overwhelming power. A sharp pain shot through Victor’s eyes, and tears couldn’t help but stream down his face. He could no longer look directly into Sylvia’s eyes.

“My dear Victor, you don’t seem to like how I look now?”

Sylvia smiled beguilingly and gave her head a gentle shake. Her flame-like hair reverted to its previous golden hue, and the dark red in her eyes gradually faded, returning to the azure of the sky.

“Feel better now?” As Sylvia returned to her original appearance, the invisible pressure dissipated with her.

Victor gave a wry smile. “I’d long suspected the York family had at least one Gold Knight, but I never expected it to be you.”

“If I hadn’t hidden it from you, would you have grown so close to me?” Sylvia whispered into Victor’s ear, her fragrant breath intoxicating him. His body, stiff with tension, began to relax.

“Why let me know now?” Victor asked, a lingering fear in his heart. He had just felt a suffocating, abyss-like power in Sylvia’s eyes. Had he known earlier that Sylvia was a Gold Knight, he truly wouldn’t have dared to get so intimate with her under such immense pressure.

“So we can be completely honest with each other,” Sylvia said with a charming laugh.

This certainly was being honest. Victor was speechless; he had never expected Sylvia to choose the bathroom for their negotiation.

“Victor, you’ve given me so many surprises… From the moment you swindled fifty thousand Gold Sols from me, I became interested in you. Then, you eagerly set off to develop your pioneer fief without knights or a castle. At that time, I thought your confidence was merely a sign of ignorance… What I didn’t expect was that you would actually persevere and manage your fief so well. The work point system, Purple Cane wine, Snow Sugar, Brick Kiln Village—one surprise after another left me unable to contain my feelings. That’s why I chose you as my partner, hoping you would join my ranks,” Sylvia said, her breath as fragrant as an orchid.

Victor was silent for a long while before saying hoarsely, “So, you never gave up on controlling me?”

“My dear Victor, you are very confident and very clever, but you are too naive—so naive that anyone can take a bite out of you, just like Earl Chapman did. As a lord, you can do without knights, you can do without a castle, but you cannot do without a faction. Relations between lords have never been warm and tender. I do want to control you, because if I don’t, you will eventually be devoured by someone else. Since that’s the case, why shouldn’t it be me? At least I will let you grow, not leave you with nothing,” Sylvia said candidly.

“And now? Because of those bricks, because of that fief, you’re not going to let me be, are you?” Victor asked in a low voice, staring into Sylvia’s bright eyes.

“Victor, I must remind you, it was the Ant-men who destroyed your fief, not me,” Sylvia chided.

“Do you know what those bricks mean? They mean more castles, more fortresses. They mean human territory can expand outward. They mean I can hold the Ant-men back beyond the Centaur Hills… But for you, they mean disaster.”

“If you hadn’t produced these bricks, I would have chosen to withdraw from the Centaur Hills, but I wouldn’t have taken you with me. Because we are going to war with the Auguste family, and a war like that would have crushed you. But without my protection, how long could you have lasted on your own?”

“Victor, I need these bricks. Only with these bricks can I defend the Centaur Hills, and only then can you keep your fief,” Sylvia said gently.

“What… what did you say? You don’t want my fief? Why?” Victor asked, astonished.

Sylvia gave a radiant smile and leaned into Victor’s embrace, saying, “Because I like you very much. Are you satisfied with that answer?”

The feel of her delicate skin sent a jolt of warmth through Victor’s heart. He had been about to express his disbelief, but the words changed on his lips. “I believe half of it.”

“How boring.” Sylvia pouted in dissatisfaction, but her eyes danced with a flirtatious smile.

“I won’t take your entire fief, nor will I demand you become my vassal, but you must give me the piece of land at the entrance to the Great Marsh. Also, the agreement concerning the Purple Cane wine remains in effect. Do you agree?”

“Can you tell me why?” Victor asked cautiously.

“Victor, not only do I not want your entire fief, I don’t intend to take Eskri’s land either. As for the reason, haven’t you made a similar choice before? That Mountain folk camp targeting the Chapman family. It’s just that my target is the Auguste family,” Sylvia giggled.

“A buffer?” Victor asked tentatively.

Sylvia nodded. “Yes. The Centaur Hills are Gambis territory. I don’t want to completely fall out with the Auguste family. Unless absolutely necessary, our York family is unwilling to clash with the royal family, even though they have tried to suppress us in the past. Such things don’t need to be answered with anger.”

“Sylvia, thank you,” Victor said with sincerity.

Although he was ceding a piece of his land to the York family, they would shoulder the responsibility of building a fortress and defending against the Ant-men. For Victor, this was the best possible outcome. He thought for a moment and then asked, “I have another question. Why are there so many restrictions on caravans between the fiefs of lords?”

Sylvia glanced at Victor, surprised. “You want to become one of the commercial nobility?” she asked, astonished.

“Yes,” Victor nodded.

“A lord’s caravan… is it a caravan or an army? In the past, ambushing a rival family with troops disguised as a caravan was not uncommon. If you want to become one of the commercial nobility, you really can’t join any faction! Oh, I see!”

“No wonder you were unwilling to become my vassal back then. Those specialized villages of yours were all to prepare for becoming a commercial noble? You want to defeat Sophia’s merchant association to get revenge for her abandoning you, is that it? Hehe, this is just too interesting. I’m very much looking forward to that day’s arrival.”

Sylvia burst out laughing, her chest heaving and her body trembling. Victor was speechless for a long moment before he stammered, “I need some money, for capital.”

“My dear, I will support you. Now, kiss me…”

Chapter 126: The Bigger Picture

Sweat trickled endlessly down Schiller’s pale cheeks as he gasped for breath, staggering forward. His burly body swayed, looking as if it could collapse at any moment, never to rise again. The stench in his leather trousers and the cramping in his gut had tormented the elite soldier for a day and a night, leaving him too weak to even hold his sword steady.

Tossing aside the hundred-forged straight blade he normally treasured like his own life, he struggled over a mountain ridge. At last, Redleaf Town came into view, and a faint, relieved smile crept onto his exhausted face.

Schiller was a member of the personal guard of the Silver Great Knight, Baron Harnas. When Harnas pledged his allegiance to the York family, Schiller followed his master to the Centaur Hills. However, Schiller’s true loyalty lay with the Auguste family. He belonged to an intelligence organization under the command of the Gambis Royal Family—Night Owl.

Night Owl’s predecessor was the Auguste family’s own spy network. As the Auguste family’s power grew, so too did the strength of Night Owl. After the founding of the Kingdom of Gambia, it became a large, tightly structured intelligence organization with a complete intelligence network, a well-developed training program for its spies, and deeply embedded secret agents.

Night Owl adopted orphans, trained and indoctrinated them, and then sent them to infiltrate other families. They started as freemen and worked their way up to becoming vassals of a domain, raising their own descendants to become Night Owl secret agents as well. Schiller’s grandfather, his father, and he himself were all members.

Secret agents like Schiller were extremely valuable to Night Owl and were not activated lightly. But with the sudden outbreak of the Ant-man plague in the Centaur Hills, the York family’s intentions unclear, and Black Fortress Town under lockdown, normal intelligence channels had been severed. Auguste had finally activated Schiller.

Schiller was not only an elite warrior but also a seasoned spy. As a member of Great Knight Harnas’s personal guard, he had much easier access to classified intelligence than an ordinary spy. For instance, he knew that the York family had once prepared to fight an all-out battle against the Ant-men to rescue the besieged Earl Teldrane. However, the plan was aborted just as it was about to be implemented. Schiller had assumed Earl Teldrane had been abandoned by the York family, but then he discovered that Harnas and several other Great Knights would leave Black Fortress Town every other day without any retainers. Although Harnas never spoke of it, his expression grew more relaxed with each passing day. Then one day, Schiller and other elite soldiers of the York family were sent to Earl Teldrane’s domain to launch arrows into the earl’s castle with catapults. During this process, Schiller was shocked to discover that Longstone Keep, which should have fallen long ago, was still in Earl Teldrane’s hands.

Looking at the sparse swarms of Ant-men and connecting them to the Great Knights’ strange activities, Schiller quickly deduced that the York family possessed some means of suppressing the Ant-men, though he did not know what it was.

Having obtained such vital intelligence, Schiller began to consider how to relay it. The York family had sealed off Black Fortress, allowing entry but no exit. Still, Schiller seized an opportunity.

Baron Harnas would periodically patrol his territory with his personal guard, searching for scattered civilians and escorting them back to Black Fortress Town. During one of these patrols with Harnas, Schiller took a pre-prepared diarrheal potion. Under the pretext of relieving himself, he broke away from the group and fled on his warhorse toward the nearest town, Redleaf Town.

Schiller knew that Great Knight Harnas would hunt him down personally. He didn’t dare to slacken his pace for a moment on the journey. Enduring the pain in his abdomen, he rode without sleep for a day and a night, even riding his warhorse to death. Now, Redleaf Town was within arm’s reach. Schiller couldn’t help but shed tears of anguish. He foresaw that his wife and children would all be executed by the enraged Harnas, but this was a mission he had to complete. Ever since he was a child, he knew this day would come.

“Schiller!”

A furious voice boomed from the distance. Schiller’s staggering steps halted abruptly. He turned to see a familiar figure standing atop the ridge—it was Great Knight Harnas.

Without hesitation, Schiller pulled a vial from his coat, tilted his head back, and drank the potion within. Biting his tongue, he swallowed the liquid mixed with his own blood. His deathly pale face instantly turned crimson, and blue veins bulged on his swelling muscles. Then, he sprinted toward Redleaf Town at an astonishing speed.

Harnas was clad head to toe in blackish-green armor, with no part of him exposed except for the opening on his visor. Over a dozen steel spikes jutted from his pauldrons, making him look like a demonic god from the depths of hell.

Watching Schiller run for his life, Harnas’s mouth split into a silent grin. An earth-yellow aura materialized around him. He took three steps forward, his war boots cracking the ground like a spiderweb, and a Mithril greatsword worth ten thousand gold coins flew from his hand.

The earth-yellow aura enveloped the nearly one-hundred-pound Mithril greatsword as it shot toward the fleeing Schiller. The terrifying force ripped a visible ripple through the air, and a piercing shriek followed in its wake.

In an instant, the greatsword crossed the three-hundred-meter distance. An invisible force field pressed Schiller’s leather armor tightly against his back, threatening to smash him to pieces.

Feeling death’s approach, Schiller roared a single, desperate, garbled word.

“Night Owl!”

A sinewy, powerful arm reached out and seized the speeding greatsword. With a gentle shake, the earth-yellow aura on the blade scattered like dust. The invisible force field vanished, and the furiously humming and trembling sword grew still. Unseen, a formidable figure had appeared at Schiller’s side.

Harnas stared intently at the lion-like man. When he saw the savage scar on the man’s face, his brown pupils shrank to pinpricks.

The pillar of the Gambis Royal Family, Minister of War, Commander of the Swift Dragon Knights, the Gold Knight of the Earth—Marquess Golan Auguste.

After a brief glance at the frozen York family Great Knight, Marquess Golan turned his gaze to the unconscious Schiller. Seeing the blood at the corners of the family death commando’s mouth and the bulging veins on his body, a look of profound sorrow filled his eyes.

Golan knew Schiller’s condition well. He wasn’t injured by the Great Knight, but had instead consumed a special potion from Night Owl that ignited his own potential. He had three days to live, at most. Only a Night Owl death commando would be able to use such a potion. Since the York family had sent a Great Knight to hunt down this unknown death commando, it meant he must possess vital intelligence. However, with the foul stench clinging to him and his sallow complexion, he probably wouldn’t live long. It was uncertain if he’d even wake up.

Marquess Golan turned to the priest beside him and requested, “Bishop Pello, please, save him.”

Bishop Pello gazed deeply at Harnas three hundred meters away, then looked at the unconscious Schiller. A look of compassion appeared on his simple face. He nodded to Marquess Golan. “Leave it to me.”

Pello knelt, ignoring the filth and blood on Schiller, and cradled the man’s head on his lap. A platinum radiance washed over Schiller’s body like a ripple of water, gradually smoothing his pained expression. Sacred runes manifested from the void, coalescing into a platinum flame that landed directly on Schiller. In an instant, a roaring Holy Fire enveloped the peacefully sleeping Schiller, transforming him into a stream of platinum light that merged with the flames, ultimately vanishing into nothingness.

At that moment, bathed in the platinum brilliance, Bishop Pello appeared sacred and solemn.

“You!”

Marquess Golan’s hair and beard stood on end. An earth-yellow aura swirled in a two-meter radius around him, and an invisible force field whipped the air into vortexes. The soil and stones on the ground seemed to lose their weight, floating upwards. With a single punch, Marquess Golan could have pulverized Bishop Pello, even if he had conjured a sacred barrier.

Ignoring the furious Gold Knight beside him, Bishop Pello spoke with calm composure, “The Holy Fire has no heat. It can Purify the bodies and souls of Evildoers, and it can also allow the innocent to return to the Lord’s embrace without pain. This poor man’s soul will attain eternal life in the Lord’s divine kingdom, forever free from suffering and persecution.”

Golan whipped his head around, his gaze locking onto Harnas not far away, like a lion fixing its eyes on its prey. The family’s death commando was beyond saving, but a Great Knight of the York family was right here. If he could just capture him, he would learn what he needed to know. Marquess Golan’s eyes narrowed, his chilling stare making the fully armored Harnas feel as if he were being flayed by a blade. It jolted him from his stupor, and his heart sank. Both of them had an affinity for the earth element, but as a Pinnacle Knight, Marquess Golan had an overwhelming advantage. If it had been a Great Knight with an affinity for the water element who had just attacked, Marquess Golan would never have been able to catch that sword so nonchalantly.

Harnas’s gaze was grim as he faced Marquess Golan from a distance. He resolved to fight; he could only fight. A burning fighting spirit kindled in his eyes, and the earth-yellow aura materialized on his armor once more. Though his sword was gone, he still had his gauntlets. Harnas’s gauntlets were as sharp as claws; he had once used them to tear open the tough body of an Ogre chief. Harnas believed this pair of gauntlets could certainly leave a deep impression on Marquess Golan.

As Harnas assumed the stance for a Trial of Life and Death, a flicker of disdain crossed Golan’s eyes. Before Golan, a Silver Knight of the Earth could only be captured alive. For Harnas to think he could shake the barrier of the Elemental Sea by challenging him was pure fantasy!

However, Bishop Pello suddenly stepped between the two men, whose swords were drawn and bows bent. The color of Marquess Golan’s face became as gloomy as the leaden clouds in the sky. Harnas, after a moment’s surprise, bowed respectfully to Bishop Pello from afar, then turned and ran back toward Black Fortress Town, quickly disappearing behind the ridge.

“I need an explanation,” Marquess Golan’s voice was as grating as scraping metal.

Faced with the suffocating presence of a Pinnacle Knight, Bishop Pello’s placid face showed not a single ripple. As a clergy member, his faith was as hard and brilliant as a diamond. Let alone a Pinnacle Knight, Bishop Pello would not waver even if he were to face a Devil.

“There is no explanation,” Bishop Pello said flatly.

Golan questioned him faintly, “Is this the attitude of His Eminence Clement?”

“Attitude?” Bishop Pello shook his head and asked, “One hundred thousand Ant-men are attacking the Centaur Hills, yet the main legions of the Kingdom of Gambia march north and east. Is that your attitude?”

Golan was silent for a moment before saying hoarsely, “It was a necessary measure! Even if I brought the main legions here, the York family would just hide in their castles and watch us fight the Ant-men to the death.”

Pello sighed. The Auguste family’s moves against the York family had caused the two families to lose even the most basic trust. Sylvia would worry that Golan might take the opportunity to ambush her, and Golan likewise worried that Sylvia might simply assassinate him. The leaders of both sides intended to mend the relationship between their families, but that would take a great deal of time. And the Ant-men couldn’t care less about any of that.

“If you are determined to face the Ant-men, then bring your main legions here, and the Church will fully support your actions. If you choose to let the York family bear the responsibility of defending against the Ant-men, then do not resort to any petty tricks… Don’t forget, the York family has been holding the line in the Centaur Hills, and there are still over one hundred thousand civilians in Black Fortress Town!”

Watching Bishop Pello turn and walk away, Golan shook his head dejectedly. The Church was not favoring either side; they were concerned about the safety of those hundred thousand-plus civilians. The Church did not want to see the current situation destabilize. In this Ant-man plague, the Auguste family, as the Gambis Royal Family, had done nothing, which had caused their reputation to plummet.

Golan was helpless as well. The Ant-men were numerous, fierce, and fearless. Bringing the kingdom’s main legions here for field battles against the Ant-men would only result in enormous losses for the Augustes, shaking the very foundation of the Kingdom of Gambia.

Golan also believed that relying on castles to eliminate the Ant-men was the most logical tactic. It was just that the castles were all in the hands of the western lords, and there was no need for the Swift Dragon Knights to bear the casualties.

Feeling downcast, Marquess Golan carried the captured Mithril two-handed sword and walked toward the knight order’s encampment. A large convoy, kicking up a cloud of dust, was heading toward Redleaf Town. Golan’s eyes fell upon a luxurious and exquisite carriage in the middle of the convoy, and a question bloomed in his mind.

“Sophia? What is she doing here?”

Victor lay on the lush grass, his head pillowed on Nicole’s long, full thighs. He had only to open his mouth, and Lilia would pop a washed raspberry into it.

“This kind of life truly is decadent!” Victor remarked with a sigh, leisurely admiring the ever-changing white clouds in the sky.

After his conversation with Sylvia that day, Victor had been living a carefree, idle life at Rose Manor, always accompanied by two lovely young women. In his spare time, Victor carefully pondered Sylvia’s intentions. He absolutely refused to believe that Sylvia had made that decision out of sentiment. Even as a Gold Knight, Sylvia couldn’t harm her family’s interests to satisfy her lover. On the contrary, he had been the one who was muddle-headed that day, agreeing to Sylvia’s request without thinking through many things.

Afterward, Victor was stunned to realize that Sylvia had actually gotten what she wanted without giving up anything, because that territory was his to begin with.

However, Victor quickly adjusted his thinking. He realized that if the York family hadn’t gotten the special bricks, they would have withdrawn from the Centaur Hills, and he wouldn’t have been able to hold his territory either. Therefore, the York family obtaining the special bricks and willingly staying in the Centaur Hills to deal with the Ant-men was the key to Victor keeping his lands.

Thinking about it from a different angle, Victor finally understood why the western lords of Gambis were sucking up to the York family and constantly providing all kinds of supplies. With the York family acting as a shield in the Centaur Hills, everyone else could live in peace. He was in the same boat as those lords.

Furthermore, Victor currently couldn’t leave Rose Manor. Sylvia had told him in no uncertain terms that if the secret of the Ant-men was discovered by others, those she could control, she would. Those she couldn’t, she would kill, one by one. When she said this, Sylvia showed no chilling killing intent, just a calm statement of fact, but Victor did not doubt her determination for a second.

Victor knew Sylvia was warning him: if he didn’t want his subordinates to be put at risk, he should not contact them until she had completed her setup.

Although he felt a little uncomfortable, Victor also understood. This matter concerned the future strategy of the entire York family; it concerned the fate of over one hundred thousand civilians in the Centaur Hills; it even concerned the political landscape of the Kingdom of Gambia. Most importantly, it concerned his own territory. Victor supported maintaining secrecy with both hands and feet.

Sylvia walked into the small garden and saw Victor leaning comfortably in Nicole’s embrace. She said, annoyed, “Victor, Sophia is coming.”

Victor’s relaxed and contented expression instantly froze.

Chapter 127: Sincerity

Sophia lounged on the sofa, her aquamarine spider silk dress clinging to her body and outlining her graceful curves. Her fair, delicate feet rested on one of the armrests, her posture casual and languid, as if she were in her own Marquess’s estate.

Sylvia didn’t mind that her favorite sofa had been commandeered. Instead, she looked through the window with keen interest, observing the few people on the lawn. They were much taller and more robust than ordinary people; even the shortest woman among them was a good 2.2 meters tall. Although they had changed into common human clothing, their gnarled muscles, bronze skin, and formidable presence all revealed their identity as barbarians.

There were seven barbarians in total—four men and three women. One of the female barbarians had the sharpest perception; whenever Sylvia’s gaze fell upon her, she would glance around warily. A thought flickered in Sylvia’s mind, and she asked the lounging Sophia, “That female barbarian is a berserker… could she be a weapon master?”

“Neither. Gelan is a War-chanter,” Sophia replied, her flat tone tinged with a hint of pride.

A hint of surprise appeared in Sylvia’s azure eyes. Barbarians were powerful non-humans. Every adult warrior was no less capable than an ordinary Knight; their physique, strength, speed, and endurance were even greater than a Knight’s. But strength did not equate to combat prowess. Knights utilized the four elements and coordinated their strength and agility, enabling them to unleash astonishing fighting ability. In a one-on-one fight, most barbarian warriors were not a match for human Knights.

However, there were certain special individuals among the barbarians who were far beyond what an ordinary Knight could handle.

Barbarians who had awakened their Frenzy talent were known as berserkers. Once a berserker entered a Frenzy state, their strength, speed, and combat instincts were all greatly enhanced. The Frenzy talent was somewhat similar to an Ogre’s berserk state, only its enhancement effect was inferior. But Frenzy could be activated at will, which was the same as Bloodlust, though its effects were superior to Bloodlust. Furthermore, Frenzy could also make a barbarian’s body tougher, which was an important feature that distinguished it from berserk and Bloodlust.

Compared to the impressive berserkers, weapon masters were the true pillars of a barbarian tribe. Being a weapon master had nothing to do with talent. As long as one had skills honed through immense practice and an indomitable will, they could be called a weapon master after single-handedly hunting down a Silver-rank monster. All barbarian weapon masters were at least Silver-rank warriors, and weapon masters who also possessed the Frenzy talent had even been known to slay human Pinnacle Knights.

There was another type of particularly rare talent among the barbarians: the War-chanter. The ability of a War-chanter was simple. Through roars and war songs, they could bolster their companions’ courage and will to fight. Yet it was this simple ability that made War-chanters the most precious members of a barbarian tribe. Sometimes, a barbarian tribe needed to trek for thousands of kilometers through harsh environments, a feat that would be nearly impossible without a War-chanter to boost their morale.

It was no secret that Sophia traded with barbarians, and it was normal for her to have a few barbarian followers. But having a War-chanter as a follower carried a different meaning. To have a tribe’s precious War-chanter follow Sophia was something that couldn’t be achieved through a simple trade relationship. It meant that a barbarian tribe was backing her—and by no means a small one.

For thousands of years, the relationship between barbarians and humans had been cold. If Sophia had truly earned the trust and support of a barbarian tribe, it would be an unprecedented achievement. Sylvia studied her friend, whom she hadn’t seen for several years, and couldn’t help but ask.

“How on earth did you manage it?”

Sophia sat up straight, flicking back her stunning purple hair. “Gelan only recently awakened her War-chanter talent… Once things here are settled, I plan to take her to the Teutonic Duchy.”

The Teutonic Duchy was the only human territory bordering the Terrel Mountains. Nominally part of the Sasan Empire, it was in reality the autonomous territory of the Moon Bear family. All the barbarians in the human world had come from the Teutonic Duchy.

The barbarians had a special sentiment for the Terrel Mountains, which they called the Holy Mountain. No matter how difficult life was in the mountains, they were unwilling to leave. But for various reasons, some barbarians were exiled from the Terrel Mountains. Most of them wandered south of the range, living simple, impoverished lives. It was not until the Moon Bear family pioneered the Teutonic Fief that these exiled barbarians began to have contact with humans. Over time, the Teutonic Duchy became a meeting point for humans and barbarians.

In the Teutonic Duchy, barbarians could freely enter and exit human towns, but humans could not casually enter barbarian villages. Because of this open policy, the Moon Bear family earned the trust of the barbarians. Some barbarians began to take on manual labor jobs in the Teutonic Fief to improve their own lives and those of their tribes. Gradually, human merchant associations also began to enter the Teutonic Duchy to trade with the barbarians.

However, winning the favor of the barbarians was not easy, and only a few merchant associations had succeeded. Sophia’s merchant association was one of them.

Now, Sophia was going to take Gelan back to the Teutonic Fief. Gelan’s village would surely be ecstatic; a War-chanter could allow them to be reaccepted by the tribes in the Terrel Mountains. Sophia would undoubtedly earn that tribe’s gratitude.

However, this was not something Sophia needed to handle personally, unless she intended to win the barbarian tribe’s favor in her own name.

At this thought, Sylvia frowned and asked, “Sophia, are you planning to start your own venture? Has the situation with the Wimbledon Merchant Association gotten that bad?”

Sophia glanced at Sylvia in surprise, then smiled. “The merchant association is still under my control for now, but I am indeed making plans. In any case, it will eventually fall into Soren’s hands… but I guarantee that despicable man will only get an empty shell.”

Sylvia pondered for a moment before saying, “Sophia, join my Rose Knights. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

“The Centaur Hills have become a true Pioneer Fief. Where does your confidence come from?” Sophia chuckled softly, then pouted. “You know I started as a Wild Knight. I’ve never had much fondness for noble families. When I was at my lowest, the Wimbledon Merchant Association took me in. I… never mind, let’s get back to business.”

Ordinary family Knights enjoyed the resources provided by their family from a young age, received instruction from a Knight Tutor, and were indoctrinated with the concept of loyalty to their family. Wild Knights didn’t receive such treatment and naturally had no concept of family loyalty. Sophia had been neglected by her family since childhood and had relied on herself for everything, so her sense of belonging to the family was even weaker.

Sylvia was well aware of Sophia’s hang-ups, so she didn’t press the matter.

“Tell me, what message did Grand Duke Williams have you bring?”

“The Grand Duke simply asked me to tell you that the kingdom will support the York family to the greatest extent possible.” Sophia frowned and asked with a puzzled expression, “I’m curious, why would he have me deliver such a simple message? He even transferred Soren away for it, giving me a year to make my moves.”

Sylvia smiled. “Did you think our York family is on good terms with Grand Duke Williams?”

“Aren’t you supporters of the Grand Duke?” Sophia asked, completely bewildered.

Sylvia shook her head. “How could the York family possibly be on good terms with the Auguste family… If we had allied with Neowist back then, the entire eastern border of Gambis would have fallen. It was only to stabilize us that Williams gave us the Centaur Hills as our fief.”

“But, have you considered this? If Prince Edward inherits the throne, given Roland’s inexplicably difficult personality, he’ll likely cause trouble for our York family again. If he pushes us too far, it’s the lords of the kingdom’s eastern and western borders who will suffer… Do you think these families want to see Prince Edward on the throne? Of course not. They are staunch supporters of Williams. Therefore, our staying in the Kingdom of Gambia is the greatest support for Williams.”

“Williams is trying to ease the tensions between our two families, but at the same time, he’s afraid of us growing too powerful. He was more than happy to see the Prince’s Faction establish a presence in the Centaur Hills.”

Sophia was stunned for a moment, then she shook her head and sighed. “I never thought Grand Duke Williams was capable of such schemes… But what does this have to do with me?”

Sylvia explained further, “The Grand Duke is expressing his sincerity. When any kingdom’s power reaches its peak, it will expand outward. But before that, it needs to consolidate its internal strength. Our York family is first on the list to be consolidated, and your merchant association is on that list too. The Grand Duke clearly knows about the secret relationship between us. He’s signaling to me that the kingdom can tolerate you, and it can tolerate the York family. This also shows that in the face of disaster, the Grand Duke and the Queen have reached a consensus, and the kingdom’s overall strategy has shifted.”

Sophia’s amethyst eyes first lit up, then dimmed. She said with self-deprecation, “I see. No wonder no merchant association has ever lasted more than two hundred years… Even if Williams expresses his tolerance, it won’t change my decision.”

Sylvia nodded. “Yes, on the matter of your situation, Williams is merely making a gesture. He’s giving you a year to empty out the entire Wimbledon Merchant Association as his way of repaying you. No one can challenge the authority of the Lord’s Law, not even the Church. In a year, Soren will inevitably reclaim the merchant association. You know as well as I do that your association can operate unhindered only because of the Wimbledon name. Even if you gain the friendship of a barbarian tribe, rebuilding a merchant association will be incredibly difficult. Because your trade routes will be cut off!”

“After tearing me down like that, what is it you really want to say?” Sophia asked, her gaze fixed intently on Sylvia.

Sylvia said with a grin, “Like I said, no one can challenge the authority of the Lord’s Law.”

Sophia leaped to her feet in an instant, her ample chest heaving. “Victor is still alive? He’s in your custody?!”

Sylvia nodded lightly. Sophia laughed coquettishly. “Name your price. What do you want from me?”

“When this Ant-man plague is over, the kingdom will surely use grain supplies to make things difficult for me. I know you have a secret trade route straight to the Sasan Empire. I need your support on this matter.”

“That won’t be easy, but I can agree to it,” Sophia said with a nod.

“There’s one more thing. I need more iron ore, double the previous amount.”

“That’s impossible! The merchant association’s iron purchases from Naville are all on a fixed quota.” Sophia shook her head in refusal, then stressed, “I really can’t do that!”

Sylvia said, “Don’t be so quick to refuse. I can give you the management rights for the Purple Cane wine, but we will have to renegotiate the profit distribution.”

These terms weren’t excessive, yet Sophia’s brows furrowed. Based on her knowledge of Sylvia, this was highly unusual! She probed, “I can agree, but I want to take Victor with me.”

Sylvia’s face turned cold as she refused flatly. “Impossible! He’s a lord now, how could he possibly leave with you.”

Sophia’s eyebrows shot up in anger as she snapped, “You… don’t think you can control me! At worst, I’ll just start over from scratch!”

Sylvia sneered, “Heh, control you? Do you think I’m as narrow-minded as Catherine?”

“This isn’t your style… You wouldn’t be asking for just these conditions, they were mostly within the scope of our original agreement… What do you really want?”

Now it was Sylvia’s turn to be annoyed. She snapped, “Within the scope of our agreement? You were just swearing up and down that you didn’t have that much iron ore! And while you’re at it, why don’t you tell me just what ‘my style’ is?”

Facing the bristling Gold Knight, Sophia didn’t back down an inch. She grinned and said, “Of course I won’t take Victor. Soren would do everything in his power to get rid of him. As long as you ensure Victor’s safety, I can rest easy… If you don’t state your real conditions, we’ll just stick to our original agreement.”

Sylvia glared at Sophia, then burst out laughing and shook her head. “I want Sword Saint Draven’s combat technique scroll. Don’t tell me you didn’t bring it. You even brought Gelan with you; how could you possibly leave something as important as a combat technique scroll back at the Marquess’s estate.”

“Draven’s techniques are useless to Knights; only an Awakened with the Moon Elf bloodline can use them… Could it be, Victor has awakened his Moon Elf talent? You want this for him?”

Seeing Sylvia nod, Sophia fell silent for a moment, her expression complex. Then she said, “I must give it to him myself.”

Chapter 128: Alike

This was the first time since his transmigration that Victor had met his wife in name—Sophia.

Victor had to admit that the stunning beauty before him was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, even a touch more ravishing than Sylvia. Her skin was smooth and fair, her figure graceful and captivating, her features exquisite and gorgeous. Her bewitching purple hair, in particular, was enough to make one’s heart race, and as he looked into her clear, enchanting, amethyst-like eyes, Victor found himself momentarily lost in a daze.

Yet Sophia’s stunning beauty was nothing special in Victor’s eyes; in fact, he was even a little disappointed. When he had sorted through the little Baron’s memories, Sophia’s image had been even more beautiful than she was in reality. The gap between memory and reality made Victor realize that the little Baron’s impression of Sophia had come with a built-in beautification filter.

It was no wonder. Victor had reviewed the little Baron’s memories. At the age of four, when he awakened his Moon Elf bloodline, he lost his father’s affection. Though he never wanted for food or clothing, he never again shared a meal at the same table as his father. Later, the little Baron moved into the Marquess’s estate, where he met Sophia and dined with her. From that moment on, Sophia had left a deep imprint on the little Baron’s heart.

Victor had once scoffed at the idea that the little Baron could be won over by a single meal. But now, seeing Sophia, that memory resurfaced in Victor’s mind, and he was suddenly reminded of his own longing to share a meal at the same table with his parents. At this thought, Victor wiped his dry eyes. No matter what kind of person one was, there was always a soft spot in their heart.

Sophia rested her delicate chin on her hands, her gaze fixed on Victor. In her heart, her maid Helen was the person who treated her best, and she, in turn, was the person who treated Victor best. In the young Victor, Sophia saw a reflection of her former self—both came from minor noble families, both were disregarded by their families. The difference was that she had been fortunate enough to eventually step onto the path of a Knight, while the young Victor, because he had awakened his Moon Elf bloodline, no longer had a chance to control his own destiny. Sophia had treated the young Victor as a substitute to make up for her own regrets, giving him plenty of care and affection.

For the ambitious Sophia, Victor had originally been the most suitable partner—gentle, handsome, and dependent on her. Unfortunately, Sophia lacked sufficient power. Faced with the crisis of losing the Wimbledon Merchant Association, she could only send Victor to the Centaur Hills.

Now that they met again, Victor seemed like a completely different person. His delicate, handsome features had become sharp and bright, his slender frame had grown tall and strong, and his dark eyes held a strength and confidence she had never seen before. He had become more mature, more charismatic, and also more of a stranger. This feeling of unfamiliarity came not only from the changes in his appearance and demeanor; their former intimacy was gone, and the distance and wariness in his attitude left Sophia feeling deeply disappointed.

What comforted Sophia was that Victor had finally made a motion to wipe his eyes. She wanted to make up for the deficiencies of her own childhood through him, yet she also saw in him her own past struggles, efforts, and powerlessness. Sophia’s nose tingled, and a glistening sheen welled up in her beautiful eyes.

Two people, equally sad, yet neither was sad for the other.

Seeing Sophia on the verge of tears, Victor was at a loss. If Sylvia hadn’t informed him of Sophia’s visit, Victor would have almost forgotten about her. Hearing Sophia’s name again, Victor was suddenly reminded that there was still an enemy lurking in the shadows, spying on him. To find this enemy, he would probably have to rely on Sophia.

After a long pause, Victor asked dryly, “Are you all right?”

Sophia stared at Victor until he began to look a little uncomfortable, then she burst into laughter. “I’m really not used to this.”

“What?”

“In the past, wasn’t I always the one to greet you first?” As she spoke, Sophia rose gracefully and walked toward Victor. Seeing him instinctively take a step back, her beautiful face dimmed slightly. “Are you still angry at me for abandoning you?”

Victor was busy calculating how to get information from Sophia about the person who had murdered the young Wimbledon Baron, so he chose to remain silent on this question.

“It’s not what you think.” Sophia shook her head and proceeded to explain the whole story.

“…And that’s what happened. Catherine treats the Merchant association as a disposable tool, which is something I cannot accept… If I hadn’t sent you to the Centaur Hills, we would never have been able to escape the Queen’s control.” After a pause, Sophia added with a hint of mockery, “Victor, you have Sylvia’s favor now. I’m guessing she won’t tell you these things.”

Sophia’s sour tone was exactly like that of a resentful wife whose husband had been stolen. Victor felt a little awkward; he knew Sophia’s words were actually meant for Sylvia to hear. Sylvia was in the next room, her presence as conspicuous as a lighthouse. She was reminding Victor to keep the secret of the Ant-men.

Victor composed himself and asked, “So you’re saying Queen Catherine orchestrated the refugee crisis just to get rid of me?”

“Knowing Catherine, she would rather control you and then get rid of me. Otherwise, the Merchant association would fall into Soren’s hands, which is the same as falling into Grand Duke Williams’s hands,” Sophia said with a light laugh.

“Soren?”

Victor already knew a little about Baron Soren. He was Grand Duke Williams’s right-hand man, the commander of the Royal Capital’s Imperial Guard, and a Silver-rank Great Knight. Yet he only held the title of a court noble, and a non-hereditary one at that. With Soren’s power and the Grand Duke’s influence, he could have easily obtained a hereditary barony… It was clear the man still coveted the marquessate. Compared to the Queen, Soren was the one who most wanted him dead. The question was, although Soren had some power, could he afford to keep a Wizard in his employ?

Victor’s eyes deepened. Sophia was momentarily entranced; she had never seen her little husband with such a profound expression. At that moment, she recalled something Sylvia had said when they were discussing Victor—a famous saying from the Silver Spire: Not by Knights alone.

“Soren resents that I inherited the Marquess’s legacy, and he’s also the one who wants you dead the most. But you don’t need to worry at all. That despicable fellow doesn’t have the guts to come to the Centaur Hills to plot against you, nor does he have the ability.” Sophia said disdainfully, “Soren has to back down even when facing the Queen, let alone Sylvia.”

The thought of Sylvia occupying Victor’s life made Sophia indignant again. Her eyes twinkled, and she said with a coquettish laugh, “I heard you’ve already awakened your Moon Elf talent. Let me see it, shall I?”

Before Victor could answer, Sophia’s small, fair, and delicate hand reached for his collar. Victor instinctively retreated, sliding back three meters, but Sophia followed him like a shadow. Psychologically and emotionally, Victor did not want to get too close to Sophia, especially when she clearly looked like she wanted to take him down… Victor activated Seamless.

A gentle breeze enveloped his body, and Victor flitted around the room like a ghost. The air gently parted on either side of him, forming a wondrous channel that allowed him to move as fast as lightning and without a sound.

Sophia clearly had no intention of giving up. She followed Victor’s shadow, moving quickly. Her thin Spider silk long dress clung to her body, outlining her seductive curves. Her long purple hair flowed behind her, like a bolt of purple lightning dancing about the room.

Sophia was fast, but she still couldn’t catch Victor. His movements were fluid and unpredictable. Just as she thought he was within reach, he would narrowly evade her. After several failed attempts, Sophia understood. She clapped her hands together, and Victor’s body suddenly felt heavy. The surrounding breeze dissipated instantly. Just as he was about to fall, the X-3 automatically adjusted his body posture. He supported himself with one hand on the sofa, flipped over, and landed steadily on the floor. Sophia was already pressed tightly against him.

Her gorgeous red lips, shimmering like crystal, were inches away, tempting one to taste them. Yet Victor felt no trace of desire. He was shocked that his Seamless had been interrupted!

Sophia gazed at Victor’s face. Seeing the look of resistance in his eyes, her purple eyes dimmed, and she took a step back. “When did we become so distant?”

Victor calmed his shocked heart and said coolly, “Isn’t this for the best? You can do what you want to do, and I have my own path to walk.”

Sophia was stunned for a moment, then she smiled brightly. “You’re right. I can’t give up the Merchant association, and you have your own pursuits now.”

“What happened just now? How did you suddenly interrupt my talent?” Victor sat down on the sofa and asked in confusion.

“My dear, how much do you know about the Moon Elf’s Wind Walk talent?” Sophia sat down beside Victor with graceful poise and asked softly.

Victor shook his head. This was the first time he had heard his Seamless talent called by another name, Wind Walk.

“Wind Walk is a Moon Elf talent. Among those who manifest the Moon Elf bloodline, a few will awaken this talent. You already know its abilities, but ultimately, it still relies on manipulating the power of air. I just disrupted the air around you, so of course, Wind Walk was interrupted,” Sophia explained gently.

“So you’re saying my talent is useless against a Silver Knight?” Victor said, his expression grim.

“That’s not it… We were just too close. Besides, you haven’t mastered the true Wind Walk. Otherwise, not even a Gold Knight could interrupt you.” Sophia shook her head with a smile, then said seriously, “I’m reminding you not to think you can fight a Silver Knight head-on just because you have the Wind Walk talent. At least, don’t entertain such thoughts until you’ve truly mastered this power.”

Victor’s expression flickered. “Are you saying my ability can become even stronger?” he asked.

Sophia nodded. “Yes, and that’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about. Do you know what an Ancient Bloodline is?”

Victor shook his head in ignorance. Sophia felt a pang of guilt. In order to deceive Catherine, she had never taught Victor anything.

Giving Victor an apologetic look, Sophia continued, “From the age of Wizards until now, some families have perished, and others have risen. Only a few have been passed down through the ages. These families that survived the turmoil of the Wizard era are known as the Ancient Bloodlines. During the age of Wizards, the Elves and humans were allies, and so one family inherited the blood of the Elves—the Wimbledon family.”

“Those noble children who awakened the elven bloodline could no longer awaken the knight’s bloodline. They were generally looked down upon, and as a result, the Wimbledon family was also discriminated against. Few knightly families were willing to intermarry with them, and the family’s bloodline was once on the verge of extinction.”

“Three thousand years ago, His Majesty, the Sword Saint Draven Wimbledon, burst onto the scene, pushing the Wimbledon family to its peak once more. Initially, Draven was just like you, an Awakened with the Moon Elf talent, nothing special. That was until his bloodline mutated again, turning his black hair and black eyes to gold hair and gold eyes. After that, no one in the entire human world was a match for Draven. Even a legendary paladin had to bow to him. Because his combat power surpassed the legendary realm, he was known as a Sword Saint. Draven also became the only noble of Moon Elf bloodline in human history to reach the sacred realm.”

Victor asked, “Wait, Draven wasn’t a Knight?”

“Of course not.” Sophia shook her head. “Draven’s power surpassed that of any Knight. At that time, the human kingdoms were threatened by the Ogre King—City-Smasher Vulcan. That powerful Ogre united dozens of Ogre tribes, defeated the centaur clans, enslaved countless monsters, and directly invaded the human kingdoms. A human empire collapsed as a result, and the Radiant Knights suffered heavy losses. The Pope was preparing to summon a Radiant Angel, but Draven and four legendary paladins ventured deep into the Northern Wildlands. The paladins lured away the Ogre king’s guards, and Draven successfully killed the Ogre King. This battle cemented Draven’s status as the strongest human.”

“Draven was not a Knight, but he was far stronger than any Knight, relying solely on his elven bloodline talent.”

Victor listened, utterly captivated, his eyes shining. “Are you saying that Draven has a legacy of Moon Elf powers?”

“I don’t know if there’s a legacy. But…” Sophia pursed her lips into a smile. “I happen to have a combat technique scroll handwritten by Draven.”

Victor’s gaze sharpened. He asked hesitantly, “What are you trying to say?”

Sophia sighed. “Draven was, after all, the most outstanding member of the Wimbledon bloodline. He left behind his innate combat techniques for his descendants.”

“Originally, this scroll was in the Soren family’s collection. On the old Marquess’s birthday, Soren presented it to him as a gift. After the old Marquess died, it fell into my hands.” As she spoke, Sophia took out a yellowed animal hide scroll from a nearby drawer and handed it to Victor.

Stroking the scroll, which was made of some unknown animal hide, Victor asked in a deep voice, “Why are you giving me something so precious?”

“Draven’s combat techniques are only valuable to a Moon Elf talent Awakened like you. To others, it’s merely a collector’s item… And Awakened like you are incredibly rare.” Sophia paused, then said with perfect justification, “Besides, you are my husband. It’s only natural that I give it to you.”

“Why are you giving it to me?” Victor looked directly into Sophia’s beautiful eyes, pressing her in a low voice.

“If you had awakened your bloodline talent in the Royal Capital, I would have given it to you then as well. You staying alive and safe is the greatest help you can be to me,” Sophia explained, then smiled. “There’s a rumor that if a Moon Elf talent wielder practices the combat techniques passed down by Draven, their bloodline might mutate, turning their hair and eyes gold. And Draven’s wife was a Flame Gold Knight. They had two children together, and both of them stepped into the legendary realm.”

Victor nodded, accepting Sophia’s explanation, then asked in confusion, “What does that have to do with me?”

“It has nothing to do with you, but for some people, it represents hope. Even if that hope is slim, it’s still worth a try.” Sophia’s voice was neither loud nor soft, her eyes filled with a sly smile that even held a hint of vengefulness.

In the next room, Sylvia’s presence suddenly became chaotic for a moment. Victor understood instantly. To the military nobles, a Gold Knight was a strategic-level power, a power rooted in bloodline. To judge a Knight’s choice of marital partner with Earth’s values of love and marriage would be utterly ridiculous. Although Sylvia was the Countess York, she wanted to have children with a golden-haired, golden-eyed Victor.

Victor coughed dryly to hide his embarrassment and said, “What are your plans now? Since the Queen is after the Merchant association’s wealth and power, she probably won’t give up so easily.”

Sophia shook her head. “I was originally planning to back off, but things are different now. The kingdom has been hit by the Ant-man plague, which will lead to a food shortage. For a very long time to come, the royal family and the lords will need my Merchant association. This will last a long, long time… until the Ant-men no longer threaten the Kingdom of Gambia. And by then, perhaps I’ll be powerful enough to be willful.”

Victor’s heart skipped a beat. Only a Gold Knight could truly be said to be free from the control of others.

“Victor, we are actually very much alike. Neither of us has a family or a background to rely on, and neither of us will give up on our chosen path. I am honored to be your wife.”

Sophia spoke with earnest sincerity in her eyes, a sincerity that moved Victor. In that moment, Sophia was breathtakingly beautiful.

“The honor is mine as well.”

Chapter 129: Taking Shape

The tranquil night enveloped the land. The ceaseless chirping of insects adorned the serene garden, lending it a vibrant energy. Victor lay on the lawn, letting the cool moonlight wash over him. A gentle breeze swept across the grass, teasing the blades this way and that, as playful and cheerful as Victor’s own mood.

The cheerful breeze skimmed past Victor, but a single wisp of it lingered between his fingers, reluctant to leave, coiling around them gently.

After reading the scroll Sophia had left behind, Victor finally had a clear understanding of this world’s truth. Draven’s combat technique scroll recorded the technique he had created: the Azure Moon. To help the family’s Awakened better master it, the scroll also described the true nature of the world.

According to Draven’s records, this world was divided into three layers. The outermost layer was the endless Elemental Sea, where the four great elements circulated, collided, and interacted. The elements that escaped from this process formed the world’s second layer: the void elements. These void elements then fused and settled, ultimately forming the material world—the world where Victor lived.

No one knew where the edges of the material world were, but it was certain that the world was still growing. This also explained why there were only a sun and a moon but no stars, and why the moon never waxed or waned. As for what the sun and moon were, high-level Knights believed they were reflections of the Elemental Sea of Fire, while the Radiant Church proclaimed that the sun was the divine kingdom of the Lord of Radiance, and the moon was its projection. Of course, these were merely conjectures without any solid evidence.

What Victor didn’t understand was why the elite of the human world treated this knowledge as a secret.

Sylvia had given him the explanation. The Church believed the common folk had no need to know such things. The high-level Knights, on the other hand, believed this knowledge was tied to the legacy of a Knight’s power. It was harmful, not helpful, for low-level Knights to know. Only by tempering their Aura and will one step at a time could they reach the pinnacle without being assimilated by the vast Elemental Sea. If low-level Knights learned the secret of the Elemental Sea too early, they would either become reckless in their pursuit of power or become stagnant out of fear. Both mentalities were fatal for a Knight. For thousands of years, countless Knights had died on the Path to the pinnacle, most of them Wild Knights without a proper heritage.

Compared to the Knights, who were pulling chestnuts from the fire, Victor didn’t have such problems. Those with Moon Elf talent and Knights walked two completely opposite paths. Knights focused on tempering their Aura to control—or rather, enslave—the four elements. In contrast, those with Moon Elf talent simply needed to make the wind elements grow fonder of them. The difference lay in harmony versus control.

To cultivate Draven’s Azure Moon, the first step was to learn to feel the wind elements and increase one’s affinity with them. The method was to become one with nature and then use one’s mind to touch the formless wind. Draven had written it simply, but this was actually the most difficult step. Without a systematic training method, it was very difficult for anyone to easily enter a state of fusion with nature. Victor was an exception; the Golden Toad Mystic Form pursued precisely this state of oneness with nature, and Victor was already adept at it.

Having overcome the first hurdle, Victor moved directly to the second step of cultivation: guiding the wind elements. This was an innate ability for those with the Wind Walk talent. Victor could make the wind elements around him dance, forming a gentle breeze within a three-meter radius. In the past, Victor had never paid much attention to this instinctive talent. Stirring up a harmless breeze couldn’t hurt an enemy, and even using it to cool himself down would consume his own energy.

After reading Draven’s scroll, Victor had an epiphany. Guiding wind elements was of great practical use for him. Draven believed that the void wind elements were inexhaustible and omnipresent. Someone with the Wind Walk talent shouldn’t just control a single gust of wind, but should let the wind elements dissipate and replenish freely.

This brought Victor sudden enlightenment. In his previous Seamless state, he had forcefully bound the wind elements to his side, which went against their lively and free nature. When these void wind elements were disturbed, they would immediately break free from his control. Furthermore, in order to forcibly control the wind elements, Victor had to constantly consume his own spiritual power, leading to a steady decline in stamina. It was a thankless task.

Furthermore, in Draven’s eyes, sensing and guiding were fundamentals. An Awakened could increase their affinity with the wind elements through long-term sensing exercises, while guiding exercises could refine their control over them. Only when one had trained to a certain level could they unleash the Azure Moon.

And so, Victor lay on the grass, having the time of his life guiding the breeze to blow this way and that. Right now, a wisp of wind was spiraling around his fingers, but he knew very well that the wind elements were constantly dissipating and replenishing around his hand.

According to the scroll’s records, when one’s affinity and guidance reached a certain level, the wind elements would break through the limitations of Wind Walk and reveal their violent, ferocious side. The wind elements would stack layer upon layer, compressing into an arc that could inflict immense damage to an enemy within thirty meters. This was the Azure Moon.

This was Draven’s assessment of the Azure Moon: “Extremely fast, but its power is a little lacking. It only managed to make the Ogre King bleed a little.” Well, Victor didn’t know how strong the Ogre King was, but Sylvia had told him that two legendary paladins had died at the hands of this Ogre.

Victor couldn’t yet perform the Azure Moon, but his new understanding of Wind Walk had already benefited him greatly. Apocalypse’s duration had increased from three minutes to five. His movement speed with Wind Walk had slightly increased, and the range at which a breeze could be attached to his arrows increased from ten meters to fifteen, meaning the power and range of his ranged weapons had increased by thirty percent. Most importantly, his Wind Walk ability could be improved through Draven’s training methods.

As for whether this kind of training could change one’s bloodline? Victor thought the possibility was very low. How could external changes alter one’s inner essence? In his view, Draven must have had the bloodline of some other intelligent species to be able to fight head-on like a warrior. A Moon Elf with the Wind Walk talent possessed the advantages of high-speed movement, silent steps, agility, and keen perception—they were perfectly suited to be master archers. This was how Victor positioned himself, at least until he had a breakthrough in his Golden Toad Mystic Form.

A very faint rustling sound reached Victor’s ears. Without looking, he knew it was Nicole. As the female knight entered his two-meter range, her image appeared clearly in Victor’s mind: she was holding the hem of her dress, her fine feet bare, holding her breath and tiptoeing toward him, her movements as soft as a great cat’s. Victor chuckled to himself. Apart from Sylvia, no one could sneak past his two-meter Blind Sense.

Pretending to casually stretch, Victor reached out and grabbed Nicole’s delicate, smooth ankle. With a cry of surprise, Nicole curled up beside Victor, just like a great cat. Victor knew, of course, that with his strength, it was impossible to pull the female knight down. It was just a playful joke between lovers.

Her fair, sharp chin rested gently on Victor’s arm as Nicole stared at him for a long time.

“Nicole, you seem very happy?” Victor asked softly, noticing the brimming smile in her grey-green eyes.

Nicole shook her head gently and pressed her face against Victor’s chest, biting her lip. “I’m very happy you didn’t listen to My Lady.”

Victor didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Sylvia had given him the final say on whether to keep Sophia. If Victor had told Sophia the secret of the Ant-men, Sylvia would have had a legitimate reason to detain her. Victor hadn’t done so, and Sylvia had even felt it was a pity. However, Nicole was pleased with Victor’s choice. Among Victor’s women, she was the one most prone to jealousy.

“Sylvia just hoped Sophia could join her knight order…”

“No, My Lady values you. She thinks you have the potential to become a great non-Knight noble, like Arya, and she doesn’t want you to have any regrets. She also believes things will be very difficult for Sophia from now on, that she might even be in danger of falling,” Nicole said faintly.

Victor fell silent. Arya was the founder of the Silver Spire. It was she who had proposed the vassal system, which liberated the productivity of the common people and eased the conflict between the knightly nobility and the Church. The Church had tacitly accepted this state of affairs, and the emergence of the human empire had indeed reversed humanity’s continuous defeats. Sylvia compared Victor to Arya because the special bricks could similarly change the course of human history, and they had already changed the fate of the York family.

Sylvia valued Victor, and she thought he had deep feelings for Sophia. At the same time, she couldn’t bear to see her good friend meet with misfortune. However, while she understood Sophia’s desire to run her merchant association, she didn’t know that Victor was no longer the little Baron of Wimbledon.

It was undeniable that Sylvia truly had the air of a leader. When her family was in peril, she hadn’t stopped Nicole from risking her life to rescue Victor, and she had respected Sophia’s choice. Victor couldn’t help but ask, “Does the York family have plans to establish a kingdom? Does Sylvia want to be a queen?”

“I can’t say for sure. Our York family only wants its members to live a stable and prosperous life, but King Ryan wouldn’t let us be. When we came to the Centaur Hills, the Ant-men wouldn’t let us be either. Now, all we can do is go with the flow and strive as hard as we can,” Nicole said, shaking her head.

Go with the flow, and strive as hard as we can… Victor mulled over the phrase and smiled. “Is that the York family tradition?”

Nicole shot Victor a look. The York family used the wild boar as its family crest, representing resilience, tenacity, and ferocity—but never attacking without provocation. They had been mocked quite a bit by other nobles for it; after all, a wild boar was hardly a dignified or elegant beast.

Victor hugged Nicole apologetically and noticed her hair was damp. She had clearly just bathed. A thought struck him, and he asked, “Did you go out to eliminate Ant-men today?”

Nicole raised her chin proudly. “Today, we annihilated a stray Ant-man colony. The Ant-man chief was taken down by my Tutor and three other Great Knights working together. Then, we immediately retreated to the Black Fortress. Right now, there are over a thousand Ant-men milling about outside the city walls. In a few days, after they’ve dispersed, we’ll go out and eliminate another colony. Victor, your Blackfeather was a huge help. If not for its guidance, we would have had a very hard time finding a stray colony.”

Victor frowned. The York family’s Knights were proactively leaving the fortress to wipe out stray colonies and reduce the Ant-men’s numbers in preparation for the final battle, but he needed more time.

Sixty days had passed since he began the unlimited production of Alchemical militia. By now, Victor should have gained one hundred twenty militia and sixty auxiliary soldiers. He still didn’t know what state his secret fortress was in. One thing was certain: the more time he could buy, the more formidable his strength would become.

“When is the final battle with the Ant-men, roughly?” Victor asked.

Nicole said, “We have at least half a year. For now, we’re clearing out stray colonies to appease the neighboring lords. We can only have the final battle with the Ant-men after our family and the kingdom reach an agreement… By that time, I believe the number of Ant-men will have been greatly reduced.”

Victor breathed a sigh of relief. In another six months, the Alchemy Tower would definitely be at full capacity. He looked down and smiled. “Nicole, you seem to be looking forward to it?”

Nicole gazed into Victor’s eyes and said seriously, “Victor, once I’ve earned enough merit this time and repaid the family, I’ll fight for you from now on!”

A warmth spread through his heart. Victor said sincerely, “I have no doubt you will.”

In the dead of night, deep in the mountains west of Victor’s fief, dozens of brawny men worked tirelessly through the night. The red-hot furnace roared, hammers rang against anvils as fine steel spears took shape, and the first batch of special bricks had already been fired. At this moment, the power of the Alchemical humans was being unleashed.

Chapter 130: Cultivation

On the eastern side of Black Fortress Town, between the City Defense Garrison camp and the Magistrate’s Office, a large area was sectioned off with a simple fence. Victor’s subjects were quartered in this camp.

It was morning. Several young soldiers from the City Defense Garrison stood on a tall watchtower, looking down at the camp below and letting out occasional bursts of mocking laughter.

“Haha, I’m dying of laughter!”

“Ouch! That must have hurt… Haha, see that? He’s clutching his rear. He must have split his pants! Hahaha!” One soldier pounded on the railing, looking absolutely beside himself with glee.

“Look at their faces, they’re as wrinkled as cabbages.”

“Country bumpkins will be country bumpkins. They don’t even know how to do daily training,” another soldier said with disdain.

“What are you doing?”

The speaker was an elderly warrior. The wind and frost had left deep marks on his face, and he walked with a slight limp in his left leg, but his gaze was still sharp. Under his sweeping glance, the soldiers tried their best to wipe the smiles from their faces, but they all suppressed their laughter until their faces were red and their necks bulged, clearly struggling to hold it in.

“What are you laughing at? Don’t forget, you’re on duty,” the old warrior chided sternly.

“Captain, I just can’t help it… Look what the Wimbledon family’s guards are doing! Haha.” One soldier burst out laughing, and the others followed suit.

The old warrior walked to the railing and looked down, taking in the scene among the Wimbledon subjects. He saw several dozen men with one leg propped on the wooden fence, forcefully pressing their heads toward their knees. They were all grimacing in pain, a sight that was indeed hard not to laugh at.

“These men are Baron Victor’s guards. They’re training their bodies. There’s nothing funny about it. In fact, it’s something you should learn from,” the old warrior lectured. “Even though it’s wartime, you can’t neglect your regular training.”

The soldiers exchanged glances. They all knew their Captain was a retired soldier from the Fanged Legion who had been recalled due to the Call to Arms and was highly experienced. However, they still couldn’t accept the old warrior telling them to learn from those hicks below.

A young soldier mustered his courage and said, “Captain, what’s the use of learning that kind of training method? We have our own family’s training methods for soldiers.”

“Exactly. I heard Baron Victor’s guards are just a bunch of low-class mercenaries. What kind of good training methods could they possibly have? Training like that won’t increase their strength at all.”

The old warrior’s eyes widened. He felt it was necessary to correct the young soldiers’ arrogance. “None of you have even seen blood, yet your eyes are on the top of your heads… Don’t look down on guards who come from a mercenary background. They may not be as strong as you, but in a one-on-one fight to the death, not a single one of you is their match.”

The young men hung their heads. The old warrior then roared, “Heads up, all of you! In a one-on-one duel, you are not their match. But in a ten-on-ten fight, they are not your match either.”

“Captain, so should we learn their training methods or not?”

The old warrior was silent for a moment before roaring, “You bunch of idiots! I just want you to learn from their spirit of diligent training! When you have nothing to do, stop fooling around.”

The War Bear Mercenaries were unaware of what was happening on the watchtower. They were currently immersed in the pain of their training.

A few dozen days ago, three Lithe Ape militiamen had entered their camp and brought them the primary cultivation method for a simplified Mystic Form. Not long after, Victor had appeared before the War Bear Mercenaries and demanded that they train well.

The War Bear Mercenaries understood the implication and were ecstatic. Everyone knew that Lord Victor had a secret force whose strength rivaled Narsen’s. This meant that Lord Victor possessed a special training method, which must be what the three strangers had taught them. Thus, the War Bear Mercenaries embraced the cultivation of the primary Mystic Form with great enthusiasm. But they hadn’t expected the special training method to be so special. Stretching their legs, pulling their tendons—for mercenaries with an average age of over forty, it was excruciating. Yet, it was precisely because of this pain that the War Bear Mercenaries believed the method must be effective. And so, under the astonished and mocking stares of others, they trained diligently every day. Of course, none of them knew that this was merely the foundation for cultivating the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form. Without the subsequent training methods, they would never achieve anything significant. This was also why Victor felt at ease teaching them the simplified Mystic Form.

It had been over one hundred days since the Ant-man plague began. The swarms’ attacks on Longstone Keep had lessened considerably. The York family’s scout Knights discovered that some Ant-man chiefs were beginning to return to the Great Marsh alone, confirming the speculation that the swarms would eventually come back. Sylvia acted decisively, leading three Great Knights to intercept and kill the retreating Ant-man chiefs. Victor supported this and had Blackfeather help them search for lone Ant-man chiefs.

Victor discovered that he had become the biggest beneficiary of this Ant-man plague. In terms of time, at least two hundred more Alchemical humans had been created, a secret base was under construction, and the Alchemy Tower’s Soul Fire limit and financial reserves were still increasing.

Now, he had also formed an alliance with the York family. Victor believed that for a period of time in the future, whether facing another Ant-man attack or political turmoil within the kingdom, as long as the York family was at the forefront, he could gain the time and space he needed to grow.

But this alone was not enough. The Alchemical humans were not truly human, after all. If Victor wanted to realize the vision he had planned, loyal subordinates were essential. Currently, the only ones Victor could rely on and trust were the War Bear Mercenaries.

How to ensure the complete loyalty of the War Bear Mercenaries was an important problem Victor needed to solve.

He believed that as long as two conditions were met, most of the mercenaries would not betray him. First was land and family. Victor decided that after the Ant-man plague ended, he would grant each mercenary a plot of land and help the single ones find suitable partners. Once their children were born, his plan to improve the physical constitution of his subjects could be fully implemented. Second was to re-establish a closed system of benefits, using dividends, granting allotted land, and providing subsequent Mystic Form cultivation methods to bind them firmly to his war chariot.

After finishing his day’s cultivation, Victor strolled through the gardens of Rose Manor. He found himself increasingly fond of lush, green environments. In places with a strong aura of nature, his mind became clearer and sharper, and his energy recovered particularly quickly.

As Victor walked, he mentally worked through a simplified method for the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form. He already had many ideas, but his current circumstances didn’t allow him to test them.

“My lord, good day.”

Victor looked up to see Lilia, dressed in a beautiful handmaiden’s gown, curtsying to him with an elegant posture.

“Lilia, what are you doing?” Victor asked with a smile.

“My lord, I am learning the art of flower arrangement from the Head handmaiden. Look, these are the roses I just picked.” Lilia lifted the basket in her hands and said in a voice as sweet as a songbird’s.

Her demeanor perfectly matched the etiquette of a Personal handmaiden, but Victor’s expression darkened. He said, “Lilia, I don’t like you calling me ‘My lord’.”

“My lord, I was too impolite before. Now, with the Head handmaiden’s guidance, I will surely become a proper Personal handmaiden,” Lilia said softly.

Looking into Lilia’s clear, bright eyes, Victor felt a pang of guilt. He had indeed neglected her feelings during this time.

Victor walked forward and embraced the young woman, whispering, “I’m sorry, Lilia. I’ve neglected you.”

“My lord, I’ve tried so hard, but I’m too stupid…” Lilia couldn’t control her emotions. She clung to Victor, sobbing.

“No! You’re very smart,” Victor said in a low, firm voice.

“I can’t help you. I’m not a noble Knight, and I’m not pretty enough… I can’t even be a good Personal handmaiden,” Lilia lamented, burying her head in Victor’s chest.

“You don’t need to be a good Personal handmaiden. There are more important things waiting for you to do.”

“Really? What other things are there for me to do?” Lilia asked, raising her teary eyes.

“Be yourself, and always stand by my side.”

Lilia didn’t have a complicated background. Although she was a bit naive, she could follow Victor without reservation. Not even Nicole could do that, and this was what mattered most to Victor.

“Is it that simple?” Lilia looked at Victor, puzzled.

“Simple?” Victor chuckled. “It’s not simple to stand by my side forever. Learning flower arrangement is useless… You must learn other things.”

“Learn what?”

“First, learn mathematics.”

Victor took Lilia’s hand and led her toward the manor, leaving the basket full of roses abandoned on the grass.

Borrey United Kingdom, Aden Port. Duke Peter’s main castle was located here.

“Young Master Raymond, this is a gift that Lord Philip just sent over.” A sharply dressed steward respectfully placed a box on the table.

The youth who was painting glanced up for a moment before continuing his work. “What is it?” he asked casually.

“A combat technique scroll from the Sword Saint Draven. Lord Philip spent eight thousand Gold Sol to acquire it from Baron Bilet,” the steward replied.

The brush stopped. The youth stood up and walked toward the table. He looked to be thirteen or fourteen years old, with a refined and handsome face, black hair, black eyes, and slightly pointed ears. He was clearly also of the Moon Elf bloodline.

“How many more of His Highness Draven’s combat technique scrolls do I need to complete the collection?” the youth asked the steward, stroking the beast-hide scroll in the box.

“Young Master, there are a total of nine combat technique scrolls passed down by the Sword Saint. You are only five scrolls short of obtaining his complete legacy,” the steward replied.

The youth pondered for a moment before asking, “Riley, you came from the Spire and have studied history. Tell me, is that rumor true?”

Riley took a step forward and said in a low voice, “Young Master Raymond, the rumors cannot be trusted. According to the Spire’s archives, there were only four Awakened of the Moon Elf bloodline at that time. Three of them met with untimely ends one after another, and it was from that point on that Lord Draven’s hair and eyes turned gold. Whether there is a definite connection, no one knows… The Wimbledon family’s bloodline prospered again after Draven. It has only begun to decline again now. But even so, there are more Awakened of the Moon Elf bloodline now than there were in Draven’s era. They…”

“I understand. You may leave,” the youth said coolly, cutting off the steward’s rambling.

“Yes, Young Master. I will take my leave.”

The steward, Riley, bowed respectfully. After backing out of the room, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his eyes. He had just seen a vein bulge on the back of the young master’s hand.

Chapter 131: The Shadow Council

Alexandria Port, situated on the north side of the Goldwater River’s estuary, is a vital port for the Borrey United Kingdom, connecting it to the Seven Great Islands. To build Alexandria Port, five powerful lords jointly launched the famous Fishmen War. The war lasted for more than eighty years. One hundred thousand human soldiers were killed or wounded, and over seven hundred thousand Fishmen were exterminated. The blood of humans and Fishmen stained the riverbanks red, earning Alexandria Port the name “Red Port.”

After the war was won, the five families, whose strength had been greatly diminished, united to establish the Borrey United Kingdom. With Alexandria Port, the Kingdom of Borea finally gained access to the seven large islands in the Goldwater River’s estuary and reaped immense rewards. The seven islands possessed astonishing reserves of Adamantine ore, precious juniper berries, breadfruit forests that yielded two harvests a year, and an endless supply of fish.

The bountiful resources of the Seven Great Islands allowed the Kingdom of Borea to grow rapidly, and Alexandria Port became increasingly prosperous, attracting countless caravans and freemen. Today, Alexandria Port has a permanent population of over three hundred thousand, the majority of whom are freemen.

The Borrey United Kingdom has no powerful royal family; instead, it is governed by a council of the Five Great Families, who rule in rotation. As a result, the forces within Red Port are a tangled and complex web, providing fertile ground for numerous freemen gangs to thrive. Crime is rampant in the city, and the countless gangs cause many public order problems. Whenever the ruling family of the moment tries to address the port’s security issues, they are always obstructed by the other great families. Over time, the port city has been strictly divided into three districts: the Nobles’ District, the Trade District, and the Commoners’ District.

At the center of Alexandria Port’s Nobles’ District stands a magnificent and splendid grand cathedral. The cathedral’s thirty-meter-high dome inspires awe in the human heart, yet its interior seems particularly deserted.

This afternoon, the vast cathedral hall held only a noble couple and a few church attendants. The tall, straight-backed young nobleman pointed to a massive statue of an angel carved from white-glazed stone and said, “Ava, this statue depicts the Radiant Archangel suppressing the Wizard King.”

“Yes, Vincent. It was the great Lord of Radiance who saved us, humanity. I hold the deepest reverence for this,” the beautiful noble lady replied softly.

Gazing at the beautiful and enchanting Ava, Vincent’s heart burned with passion, but the perfunctory tone of her voice made him feel a little awkward.

It was rare for a nobleman to bring his beloved on a tour of a church. For the Nobles of the Knightly class who lacked faith, this was clearly not a good place for romance, but Vincent was a Paladin.

Over thousands of years, the Seven Great Paladin Families had continuously intermarried with ordinary Knight families, forming many branch families. Ava was from a Paladin branch bloodline belonging to the Kingdom of Borea, and she was also Vincent’s intended bride. When Vincent first met Ava in Red Port, he was captivated by her beauty. Although their marriage was already destined, Vincent still longed to win his fiancée’s heart. However, this was clearly not a Paladin’s forte.

How could Vincent have known that Ava had only accepted his invitation out of courtesy? Now, Ava’s look of utter disinterest made Vincent secretly regret his choice. He racked his brain, trying to figure out how to win back his fiancée’s affection.

Seeing the prayer altar in the center of the church inlaid with white crystals, Vincent had a flash of inspiration. He said to the woman of his desires, “Ava, even now, evil Wizards still threaten this world. Eliminating Wizards is our mission as Paladins… Have you ever seen the ceremony for Purifying a Wizard?”

Ava shook her head. She had just turned eighteen, and the last Purification Ceremony in Red Port had taken place more than fifty years ago. To Ava, Wizards were creatures of legend.

“Dearest Vincent, have you ever killed a Wizard? What do they look like? Is it true, as the rumors say, that they have horns on their heads and a venomous snake for a tail?” Ava asked, her face full of curiosity.

The intimate address made Vincent ecstatic. He smiled and said, “Dearest Ava, although Wizards are the spawn of Devils, they look the same as ordinary people. They have neither horns on their heads nor snake tails… As a Paladin of the Lord of Radiance, I fervently wish to eliminate an evil Wizard with my own hands. It’s just a pity that Wizards are very cunning nowadays. They hide among ordinary people, making them difficult to distinguish.”

Ava’s face showed disappointment, so Vincent quickly added, “Wizards can deceive ordinary people, but they cannot escape the Lord’s gaze. The Church has a Demon-Detecting Ritual that can identify evildoers among a crowd. Of course, there are very few Wizards left now. Most of them hide in some desolate, uninhabited place. Otherwise, I would definitely let those evil Wizards have a taste of my Sacred Sword Art.”

“A Demon-Detecting Ritual? Dearest, can you show me?” Ava’s eyes lit up as she asked coaxingly.

Vincent practically melted. Without a second thought, he ordered a church attendant, “Go and make preparations. I want to hold a Demon-Detecting Prayer.”

The attendants were stunned. The quickest-witted among them reacted first, rushing out of the hall. A short while later, the church’s priest walked in, his face sullen.

Father Ram was furious. A Demon-Detecting Ritual was not something that could be performed casually. In fact, a Demon-Detecting Ritual could only lock onto a Wizard’s location after they had used sorcery. If a Wizard never cast any spells, the ritual was useless for distinguishing them from ordinary people. The proper procedure was to find traces of sorcery first, then perform the ritual. Each ritual consumed twelve white crystals, which was a considerable expense. And now, this little whelp from the Trigoval family wanted to hold a Demon-Detecting Ritual just to impress his sweetheart. Of course, Father Ram, who would have to preside over it, was very unhappy.

Ram was unwilling to be the sucker, but he also didn’t want to offend the Paladins, whose influence was at its zenith. He pulled Vincent aside and whispered, “The twelve white crystals filled with holy power—you’re paying for them yourself.”

Vincent’s vision went dark. Twelve crystals of holy power were worth six thousand Gold Sols, equivalent to two years of his stipend. He glanced back at the expectant, enthusiastic Miss Ava and gritted his teeth. “I’ll pay!”

Father Ram began to chant in a low voice. The white crystals on the prayer altar lit up one by one. A gentle holy light emanated outwards, washing over everyone’s body and soul. The sacred, warm feeling brought a sincere smile to everyone’s face, but Vincent’s smile was a bit strained.

Suddenly, the white crystals turned a piercing, blood-red color. A set of runes formed within the sanguine light. Everyone’s mouths fell open, frozen in place.

“Dearest, what’s happening? Is there a Wizard?” Miss Ava covered her cherry-like mouth with her fan, one hand gripping Vincent’s arm. Her delicate body trembled, whether from excitement or fear, it was hard to say.

Vincent was completely oblivious to his fiancée’s actions. Love, six thousand Gold Sols—all were forgotten. At this moment, his eyes saw only the crimson flames.

“Ring the alarm bell! Summon the Sacred Warriors!” Father Ram shouted, his voice hoarse and shrill.

Vincent stopped an attendant and said in a low, heavy voice, “Don’t ring the alarm. We go quietly!”

In the Commoners’ District of Red Port, at the end of a deep, dark alley, a cracked wooden sign swayed with a creak. On it were the words: The Eternal Sleep Inn.

The Eternal Sleep Inn was in a poor location and rarely had any business, nor was it meant to. It was the headquarters of the Black Scythe.

The Black Scythe had an impressive name, but it was a minor, third-rate gang. Despite its low standing, it still had a horde of vicious desperados who made their living here. Only, from this day forward, they would no longer need to eat.

A slender man sat on a worn-out barstool, wiping his long fingers with a snow-white handkerchief. His expression was focused and meticulous, as if the twenty-odd withered, shriveled corpses on the floor had no effect on him whatsoever.

“Bach! You bastard! You killed all the men I worked so hard to gather!” Halman, the boss of the Black Scythe, glared viciously at the nonchalant man.

“Lord Councilor, with a Corruptor at your service, can’t you get as much of this trash as you want?” Bach said dismissively.

“You still know I’m a Councilor! You barge in and slaughter all my men. Do you even have any respect for the Council?” Halman roared in a low voice, but his bluster couldn’t hide his fear.

Bach tossed the handkerchief onto the bar and said casually, “If I didn’t kill these eyesores, how could I discuss proper business with you, Lord Councilor?”

“If Flit were here, would you still dare to be so arrogant?” Halman said bitterly.

“If the Soul-Shatterer were here, of course I wouldn’t dare to be arrogant… I wouldn’t even dare to come,” Bach sneered.

Halman’s expression changed. He stammered, “What… what do you mean?”

“The Soul-Shatterer is dead, in Black Fortress Town in the Centaur Hills. The Vice-Speaker sent me to ask you, what was the Soul-Shatterer doing in the Centaur Hills?” Bach’s gaze was icy as he stared at the pale-faced Halman.

“How is that possible? Impossible… How could Flit die? He’s the Soul-Shatterer… He’s even killed Paladins from the Inquisition… Who killed him?” Halman babbled incoherently.

Bach said coldly, “Flit is dead. This is a great loss for the Council! I am here to investigate this matter. Now, please tell me, why did you send Flit to the Centaur Hills?”

Halman was silent for a long time before speaking, his voice dry. “I don’t know what Flit was doing in the Centaur Hills. I ordered him to assassinate those Awakened with Moon Elf bloodlines.”

“Are you insane! The Awakened with Moon Elf bloodlines are all Nobles… You’ll get us all killed!” Bach grabbed Halman by the collar, his voice suppressed with rage.

“What do you know?”

Swatting Bach’s hand away, Halman spoke with a fanatical expression, “Only I can hear the Master’s voice. The great King of Shadows wants me to kill all the Awakened with Moon Elf bloodlines. I must follow my Master’s will. Those old fools don’t believe my words at all. One day, they will regret it!”

Bach wished he could strangle the idiot in front of him. The King of Shadows was a ruler fabricated by the Council to unify the novice Wizards, a counterpart to the Lord of Radiance. The upper echelons of the Shadow Council all knew the King of Shadows was a fictional deity. Only this madman took it as truth.

“You fool! You’ll expose us all to the Inquisition!” Bach cursed through gritted teeth.

Halman gave a smug smile and said sinisterly, “Don’t worry, I have the perfect scapegoat. The Church won’t be able to trace this back to us! I had the Corruptor…”

Bang!

The inn’s main door was kicked open. Vincent, clad in armor and holding a longsword, burst in. Seeing the two stunned-looking Wizards, he was incredibly excited and shouted, “Heretics! Accept your fate to be Purified by my Lord!”

The Church’s clergy were divided into seven levels. With each promotion, one could obtain new divine arts and more abundant holy power. There were two ways to raise one’s clergy level: unwavering faith and obtaining Divine Favor.

Compared to ordinary clergy, most Paladins advanced their divine art levels by obtaining Divine Favor. And fighting against other races and Purifying Wizards were ways to obtain that favor. In Vincent’s eyes, Wizards were nothing but fodder for advancing his own divine art level.

He had worried that a large-scale search operation would alert the Wizards, so he persuaded Father Ram to dispatch the Sacred Warriors covertly for a secret arrest. Sure enough, he had cornered two Wizards in the cramped space of the bar.

“Lapdog of a false god! Go to hell! Darkness will eventually fall!”

Halman roared madly, his eyes turning pitch black as dark light emanated from his body. A violent explosion instantly engulfed both Bach and Vincent.

After the explosion, the dust-covered Paladin stood dazedly in the ruins of the inn. The dual protection of the Sacred Armor Art and his Aura had allowed him to escape with only minor injuries, but the fanatical look in the Wizard’s eyes sent a chill down Vincent’s spine.

“Why did that look so much like a Sacred Warrior?”

Chapter 132: Mutual Aid and Mutual Benefit

Rose Manor, the Countess’s bedroom.

Sylvia crossed her arms, looking helplessly at Victor, who had commandeered her sofa. “Victor,” she said irritably, “that’s my sofa!”

With his hands behind his head, Victor was sprawled across Sylvia’s favorite sofa. Faced with the lady of the manor’s interrogation, he struggled to sit up and said sheepishly, “I just finished today’s training and was exhausted. You weren’t back yet, so I couldn’t resist lying down for a bit. To be honest, your sofa is incredibly comfortable. It has a uniquely cool feeling when you lie on it.”

Sylvia studied Victor closely. Seeing his listless appearance, she said sympathetically, “Alright, you can lie down for a little longer. Manticore hide does have a restorative effect… Hey, just for a little while. I just hunted two Ant-man chiefs, and I miss my sofa too.”

Before Sylvia could finish, Victor lay back down. He had long since stopped seeing himself as a guest. “Sylvia,” he said lazily, “was there something you needed me for today?”

Sylvia was both amused and annoyed. She had always felt that Victor was somewhat guarded around her; this was much better.

“In two months, the Kingdom’s Senate will begin voting on our proposal. I wanted to ask if you have anything else to add,” Sylvia said, sitting down in the chair opposite him, her voice soft.

“So soon?” Victor sat up again, asking in surprise.

Victor and the York family had already reached an agreement. He would cede three thousand square kilometers of land near the entrance to the Great Marsh to the York family. The Yorks would establish a barony there and build a massive fortress at the entrance to the Great Marsh to defend against the next wave of Ant-man attacks. At the same time, Victor would provide the Yorks with the method for making the special bricks and guide them on how to operate the giant brick kilns. In return, Victor would get to keep his territory and his title.

Victor had no objections to this. The Great Marsh had three entrances, and unless he could block them all, the Ant-men would still invade the Centaur Hills. Besides, defending a single fortress required a garrison of at least two thousand soldiers, which was a huge burden. Since the York family was willing to take on the defensive duties, Victor had no reason to refuse. However, the Senate’s decision to vote meant that the Kingdom of Gambia was about to resolve the Ant-man tide problem for good. Victor had been hoping for more time to complete his secret fortress.

“We can’t delay any longer. We must clear out the Ant-men before the Season of Water arrives. If we miss this season’s planting, all the lords in the western territories of Gambis will be affected by the disaster, which will lead to a series of severe consequences,” Sylvia said grimly.

With over one hundred thousand people gathered in Black Fortress Town, the York family had already used up all their reserve grain, and it wouldn’t last until the end of the Season of Wind. The Ant-men had deliberately destroyed the crops, meaning this year’s harvest in the Centaur Hills was a total loss. The surrounding lords had also suffered varying degrees of damage. If everyone missed the planting season, the area needing aid would extend far beyond just the Centaur Hills.

Victor, who didn’t manage a household, didn’t understand the cost of living. After receiving a coquettish eye-roll from Sylvia, he could only surrender. “I have no issues.”

“Then let’s talk about our problems.” Sylvia swept up her golden hair and said softly, “You were the one who provided the rock brick production technique, and you invented the method for operating the giant brick kilns. I need to build three fortresses within three years, so I need you to find a way to increase rock brick production. Also, help me think of a way to prevent the production method from being leaked.”

Victor frowned. Operating a giant brick kiln required many workers. In an environment with so many people and prying eyes, keeping the method for making rock bricks secret was nearly impossible, unless the York family had absolutely loyal Alchemical humans like he did.

“Sylvia, you should know that once you start producing rock bricks, you can’t stop others from coveting the secret. Besides, with so many people involved in making them…” Victor said tactfully.

“I know all that, but I need five to ten years to build more defensive facilities in the Centaur Hills. Before we achieve a defensive advantage, I don’t want other lords obtaining the method for making rock bricks.” Sylvia sighed, her eyes filled with expectation. “My dear, you are very clever. If you could design the division of labor, you can certainly help me buy enough time.”

Victor thought for a moment, then said pensively, “Five years is certainly no problem… we might even be able to keep it secret for longer. The key is the division of labor production method!”

His method was simple: have the people responsible for cutting grass harvest more than five types of weeds. These weeds would then be burned to ash and placed in different containers. The people making the unfired bricks would take a designated container and mix the Goldsilk Grass ash into the clay in the correct proportion to finally produce the unfired brick. This way, neither the grass cutters nor the brick makers would know which type of ash was being added, or which combination of ashes, or if all the ashes were used.

“The proportion of Goldsilk Grass ash is crucial for making rock bricks. It would be nearly impossible for those lords to figure out the trick. They would keep experimenting, but they would never succeed, because they would also have to solve the problems of building a giant brick kiln and the firing temperature for the bricks. However, once you start cultivating Goldsilk Grass, the secret will be out. Also, those lords will eventually lose their patience, and you’ll be under a lot of pressure… I suggest you sell the finished rock bricks to the outside world. That would make things much easier for you.”

“Each person responsible for their own task, not interfering with the others…” Sylvia pondered for a moment, then smiled radiantly. “A brilliant idea! My dear, I was right about you, you really are a genius. But I don’t want to sell the rock bricks… You won’t think me greedy, will you?”

“From now on, the rock bricks were invented by the York family. However, you’ll have to help me build a castle for free… and I’m not talking about one of those six-meter-tall ones,” Victor said with a smile.

The profits from rock bricks were immense, but it was also a hot potato. With his current strength, Victor might not be able to hold onto these profits. Besides, he had a grander goal: to establish a large, semi-commercial, semi-military organization. As long as people were involved, even the most perfect security measures couldn’t prevent technology from leaking. The method for making rock bricks would get out sooner or later. Rather than scheming against other nobles over it, it was better to quietly usurp more wealth and develop a greater power base.

Sylvia chuckled. “My dear Victor,” she said softly, “I will help you build a forty-meter-high castle. For the sake of your own castle, hurry up and help me think of a way to increase rock brick production.”

“More manpower, more giant brick kilns. Other than that, there’s no other way.”

Without a technological breakthrough, the only solution was to scale up. Victor spread his hands; it was the only method he could think of.

Sylvia’s fine brows furrowed. “The most I can mobilize is five thousand people to build ten giant brick kilns.”

“But there are one hundred and twenty thousand people in Black Fortress Town, and the Centaur Hills are vast enough to accommodate even more. Why don’t you recruit more freemen?” Victor asked, puzzled.

“Victor, one hundred and twenty thousand people is already the absolute limit for our York family. In this Ant-man plague, we not only lost two Knights and eleven apprentice knights, but also over a thousand elite soldiers. These soldiers were vassals loyal to the family. Losing them has weakened the family’s potential and our control over the territory. After all, we can’t solve the problem with a work point system like you. In fact, your work point system has already been shown to have huge flaws.” Sylvia shook her head and sighed, her tone heavy.

Victor fell silent. The York family had suffered devastating losses this time. Although their high-end combat power remained intact, their middle tier had been crippled. The lords of this world had no sophisticated methods for managing their territories; it was a simple system of enfeoffing land to vassals and letting them handle farming, animal husbandry, forging, training soldiers, and other activities on their own. The lord collected tribute from the vassals in proportion, and the vassals, in turn, hired freemen to engage in production, promoting those who were diligent and capable to become the family’s subjects. A single vassal could manage at least fifty people. With the loss of a thousand vassals, the York family had lost the ability to manage fifty thousand laborers.

Victor suddenly understood why the York family had initially given him twelve thousand square kilometers of land. It wasn’t because they were generous, but because the York family simply couldn’t control that much territory. Just like him, the York family needed time to increase their strength.

At this thought, Victor’s expression immediately turned serious. “Sylvia,” he said, “I’m afraid the problem now isn’t about increasing kiln output, but about how large an army you can raise.”

Sylvia pondered for a moment. “Based on a population of one hundred and twenty thousand, I can rebuild the Fanged Legion to six thousand men, but it will take ten years. Why, is there a problem?”

The standard-issue equipment of the York family was worth eighty Gold Sols, equivalent to twenty-eight oxen. An elite soldier had to undergo years of arduous training and study to skillfully wield his weapons and armor. Based on the calculation of twenty people supporting one elite soldier, Sylvia’s decade-long estimate to expand the army to six thousand men was realistic. But Victor’s heart sank.

“It’s not enough! It’s nowhere near enough! Sylvia, if you want to hold the Centaur Hills, besides the three fortresses blocking the entrances to the Great Marsh, you need to build more fortress clusters in the northern part of the hills! You need more soldiers to garrison the castles, and more laborers for production and construction!” Victor said grimly.

Sylvia thought for a moment and said, “Victor, are you worried the Dodor Kingdom will attack us from the north of the Centaur Hills? I can tell you, the Dodor Kingdom will not touch the Centaur Hills. They are equally unwilling to provoke the Ant-men.”

Victor shook his head. “I’m worried about the Ant-men!”

“The Ant-men? You needn’t worry about them either. The Ant-men are fierce but mindless, their tactics are rigid, and they fear fire. The terrain at the entrances to the Great Marsh is low-lying. With three fortresses, we can completely seal them inside the marsh. Besides, we’ve already killed seventy-four Ant-man chiefs. I believe the next Ant-man plague won’t have nearly as many… In fact, if the Ant-men didn’t destroy crops, they wouldn’t be that terrifying.” Sylvia shook her head with a light laugh.

Victor sighed inwardly. No one understood the Ant-men better than he did. He knew very well that the Ant-men were his greatest enemy. The Alchemy Tower had stolen their wealth and Soul Fire, threatening their very existence. This Ant-man tide was merely a foraging mission by the Ant-man controller; the next one would surely be a frenzied assault targeting the Number Seven Alchemy Tower. This was the fundamental reason Victor was willing to cooperate so closely with the York family. If the York family could hold the Centaur Hills, Victor would actually look forward to the Ant-men coming to deliver him benefits.

If the York family couldn’t hold the Centaur Hills, Victor would have no choice but to flee. Therefore, he desperately needed the York family to buy him some time to develop. He couldn’t just stand by and watch Sylvia make a mistake; he even had to find a way to support the York family.

“Sylvia, the Ant-men are not nearly as simple as you imagine. You told me they destroyed a non-human empire. Could mindless Ant-men accomplish that? With so many of their chiefs killed, won’t they come back for revenge? If the Ant-men are blocked inside the Great Marsh, won’t they move north along the mountains to find new exits? Assuming they enter the northern part of the Centaur Hills controlled by the Dodor Kingdom, won’t the lords of the Dodor Kingdom divert the Ant-man tide into our territory?”

Victor threw out a series of questions, and Sylvia fell into deep thought.

Chapter 134: Enclave

“You have a point. Perhaps I’ve been underestimating the Ant-men…”

Sylvia finished studying the map and turned her gaze to Victor. Sighing, she asked with a ghost of a smile, “Victor, why do you think the Ant-men would take a huge detour just to attack us?”

Victor’s heart skipped a beat, but he kept his composure. “It’s just a guess. When facing a savage army of one hundred thousand Ant-men, I don’t think any amount of caution is excessive.”

He hadn’t expected Sylvia to pick up on the slight slip he’d made. But he couldn’t very well tell her that he and the Ant-men were natural-born mortal enemies, and that she was an accomplice. Once the Ant-men realized this, they would not let them off so easily.

Sylvia didn’t press the issue. She nodded, her long, slender, pale fingers tracing a line on the map as she spoke, “The Larkspur Mountains to the west form the border between the Great Marsh and the Centaur Hills. The Great Marsh is a low-lying basin, and the average drop on the western side of the mountains is over six hundred meters. The cliffs are steep and perilous; it would be nearly impossible for the Ant-men to cross them. As long as I seal the three entrances from the marsh, no number of Ant-men will be able to invade the Centaur Hills.”

Victor agreed. The entrances from the Great Marsh were all slopes, low in the west and high in the east. If they built sixty-meter-high fortresses there and dug twenty-meter-wide trenches, the Ant-men wouldn’t be able to take them even with three times their numbers. This was the advantage of the terrain.

Sylvia looked up at Victor and continued, “The Larkspur Mountains continue north into the Dodor Kingdom… here, they split into two ranges. One continues north for twelve hundred kilometers, with the Endless Forest to its west. The other extends one hundred and fifty kilometers to the east and is called the Greyrock Mountains because of its abundant stone. That region nominally belongs to Duke Erickson’s fief, but it’s actually a true Pioneer Fief, crawling with monsters. If the Ant-men were to detour through Erickson’s fief to reach the Centaur Hills, they would have to travel at least five thousand kilometers and pass through the gathering grounds of many monsters… Now, do you understand?”

Victor understood what Sylvia meant, but he didn’t agree with her assessment. After a moment of contemplation, he asked, “Sylvia, do you think my worries are unnecessary?”

Sylvia smiled and shook her head, her red lips parting slightly. “No! You were right to remind me. In fact, I was planning to build defenses in the northern Centaur Hills even before the Ant-man plague broke out.”

A thought struck Victor. “You were targeting the lords of Dodor?”

“It could be the lords of the Dodor Kingdom, or it could be the monsters or beastmen on the fringes of the Endless Forest. And now, we have to add the Ant-men to that list. In any case, ever since the Forest Centaurs migrated, every power has had its eyes on the Centaur Hills.” Sylvia tapped two spots on the map and continued, “Our original plan was to build two large fortresses here, and here, positioned to support each other. Without rockbricks, this project would have taken more than ten years to complete.”

Sylvia rubbed her temples. “Victor, you’ve really presented me with a conundrum. Assuming the Ant-men really will attack the Centaur Hills from the north, then these two fortresses need to be built as soon as possible. Honestly, building five large fortresses in a row… it would be a huge strain on me. And the family doesn’t have enough soldiers to garrison five fortresses at once.”

“So I need to know, what is your basis for judging that the Ant-men will proactively attack the Centaur Hills?” Sylvia asked.

Victor thought for a moment, then said with a frown, “It’s common knowledge that the Ant-men entered the Centaur Hills to forage and cull their own numbers. But you don’t think those are their only two simple behaviors, do you? You told me the Ant-men may have destroyed a non-human empire. Wouldn’t that empire have known the Ant-men’s weaknesses? From this, we can infer that the Ant-men must have a proactive attack behavior, otherwise they would have been wiped out by that non-human empire long ago! Also, the Ant-man leaders can flee, which means they are very important to the swarm… and we’ve killed quite a few of their leaders. Of course, this is all just my speculation. But you can’t stake the security of your domain on a stroke of luck.”

Sylvia was stunned for a long moment, then said in vexation, “Damn it, I was blinded by the prospect of land and rockbricks. I should have realized it sooner. The Forest Centaurs might have been deliberately letting the Ant-man leaders go. The Ant-men, in turn, were using the Forest Centaurs to cull their population. They had formed a tacit understanding. But we took the Forest Centaurs’ place and broke that understanding by killing the Ant-man leaders who were ‘shepherding’ their own kind. You’re right, we have to consider the possibility of the Ant-men launching a proactive attack.”

Sylvia pressed a hand to her fair, smooth forehead, her beautiful eyes filled with a dim sadness. In that moment, she didn’t seem like the wise leader of her family, but rather possessed an air of vulnerability. Victor couldn’t help but feel a surge of tenderness. He stepped forward, wrapped an arm around Sylvia’s slender waist, and comforted her, “My dear, it’s not your fault. The Ant-men would eat all the crops. We humans are different from the Forest Centaurs. We have no choice but to kill the Ant-man leaders.”

Leaning against Victor, Sylvia felt a strange warmth. It wasn’t that she never had moments of weakness, but ever since she’d set foot on the path of a Knight, she hadn’t been cherished like this. A moment later, she looked up and stared at Victor until he began to feel a bit awkward, then said fiercely, “You’d better think of a solution for me!”

There was actually a hint of a pout in Sylvia’s tone. Victor awkwardly released his hand, cleared his throat, and said, “Ahem! The Ant-man leaders are clearly not sacrificial pawns like the common ones. Since we’ve already killed so many, we can only try to kill more.”

“Of course! I have no intention of letting them go… What I’m asking is, what do we do about the fortresses in the north?” Sylvia shot Victor a displeased glance.

Victor smiled. “Many hands make light work. Recruiting more people can solve these problems. With a sufficient population, the speed of fortress construction will increase, and we can also select more soldiers.”

Sylvia was stunned for a long while before saying with disappointment, “That’s your solution?”

“Is there a problem?” Victor asked, confused.

Sylvia retorted, “Leaving aside the issue of food, where am I supposed to recruit people from?”

“Doesn’t the kingdom have plenty of freemen?” Victor asked, greatly puzzled.

Sylvia sneered, “Freemen? You think they’d be willing to come to the Centaur Hills to do hard labor? Willing to join the army and fight monsters in a Pioneer Fief? If they had that kind of quality, they wouldn’t be freemen in the first place. Black Fortress Town has taken in one hundred and twenty thousand people, the vast majority of whom were subjects abandoned by other families. Otherwise, do you think I would support so many people?”

“Are freemen really that useless?” Victor asked in surprise.

“What do you think? Not counting displaced subjects, those freemen who are lazy by nature, afraid of death, and spend all day daydreaming are completely useless. Other lords would be thrilled to send these people out of their own territories. They can’t build castles or serve as soldiers, so recruiting more of them is pointless,” Sylvia sighed.

Victor was at a loss for words. He admitted that not everyone could become a qualified subject; some were culled due to limited land, while others truly had personal issues. However, the main reason for Sylvia’s opposition was that she was constrained by the feudal system. The lords of this world could achieve almost nothing without the feudal system. Victor had no intention of pointing this out; the limitations of the feudal system were precisely his opportunity.

Sylvia pondered for a moment, then said helplessly, “The most critical problem right now is that we don’t know when the Ant-men will invade again. Since there’s no better way, the only option is to give the northern territories of the Centaur Hills to powerful lords in the kingdom. Let them build their own castles and train their own armies to become our northern shield.”

Victor said, stunned, “You… you’re going to give the northern lands to other families?”

“Victor, compromise and cooperation between lords are far more common than war. Back then, to break up our York family, King Ryan merely used political means to force the Yorks’ peripheral vassals to join other powers. If Ryan’s luck hadn’t been so bad as to run into that fellow Neowist, he almost would have succeeded… Faced with the three Gold Knights of Gambis, I had no choice but to compromise… The situation is the same now. Auguste is determined for us, the York family, to establish a duchy in the Centaur Hills, which of course I cannot agree to. This time, by ceding the northern lands of the Centaur Hills, I can probably help the Senate make up its mind to stand with me, and Auguste will have no choice but to compromise,” Sylvia said with a cold smile.

A thought stirred in Victor’s mind, and he asked, “How much territory do you plan to cede?”

“It will have to be an earldom,” Sylvia stated definitively.

Victor clicked his tongue in silent amazement. An earldom was at least fifteen thousand square kilometers, nearly a tenth of the total area of the Centaur Hills. Sylvia intended to use an earldom to entice a powerful family to garrison the northern Centaur Hills and become a shield for the York family’s core territory. It was hard to say whether this exchange was a loss or a gain. However, Victor believed that if any family knew the Ant-men might attack the Centaur Hills from the north, they definitely wouldn’t jump into this trap just to pick up such a bargain.

Victor didn’t care about the fate of other families. His gaze followed the mountain range on the map northward, and an idea gradually formed. “Sylvia, can you give me a small piece of land in the northern border of the Centaur Hills, near the mountains? It doesn’t need to be large, fifty square kilometers will be enough!”

Sylvia looked at the spot Victor was pointing to and asked with a frown, “What do you want that piece of land for? Don’t be fooled by its proximity to Duke Erickson’s fief in the Dodor Kingdom. In reality, there isn’t a single village there; it’s a complete wilderness overrun with monsters.”

“Uh, you’re saying that Duke Erickson, like you, is just claiming land on a map?”

Sylvia’s shapely eyebrows shot up as she said angrily, “I’m not that shameless! At least I built a castle for you.”

Victor rubbed his chin and sighed, “Alright, it is indeed a castle… at least the Senate recognizes it as one.”

“You know I’ve raised some Ash Falcons. These birds are very intelligent and can monitor a considerably large area. I plan to establish an outpost there. If the Ant-men really do attack from the north, we can prepare in advance,” Victor explained.

Sylvia’s eyes lit up. “I’ll give you three hundred square kilometers of land, as long as you help me tame twenty Ash Falcons. How about it?”

Victor stared at the heavens, utterly speechless. Sylvia using the same old trick reminded him of scammers who specialized in selling plots of land on the moon. Sylvia gritted her teeth, her small, snow-white hand reaching directly for Victor’s cheek. Faced with the impending torment, Victor had no choice but to surrender.

“Don’t pinch… Alright, I can help you train the Ash Falcons. But I can’t guarantee anything… Those falcons are very dependent on me. If they don’t see me for a long time, they’ll fly away. Besides, there aren’t that many Ash Falcons to begin with. I can only help you tame five.”

Sylvia’s face immediately lit up with a smile. She gave Victor a light peck on the lips and said gleefully, “I know, taming Ash Falcons is your Bloodline talent. As long as these pets of yours can help me find the retreating Ant-man leaders, that’s all that matters… It’s fine even if the Ash Falcons fly away. You’ll continue to help us, right?”

Looking at Sylvia’s flower-like smile, Victor felt a daze come over him. Unwittingly, he and Sylvia had become so intimate.

“I will summon the family members to discuss this proposal. Regardless of whether we cede a fief to another family, that land in the north already belongs to you, at least legally speaking. My lord Viscount,” Sylvia said softly, her arms around Victor’s shoulders, her red lips close to his ear.

Chapter 134: The Inquisition

The Mountain of Light was located in the central part of the Kingdom of Ayr. At over eight thousand meters high, it was a majestic and imposing peak, considered the place closest to the sun in all the human kingdoms. It was here that the first Pope, Inoc, founded the Radiant Church, which is why the Mountain of Light was also known as the Holy Mountain. The court of the Radiant Church was established at the foot of the Mountain of Light, and every day, numerous high-ranking clergy would come to report on their duties or depart with new missions for the various dioceses of the human kingdoms.

On the southern foot of the Mountain of Light, the Paladin Conlar lifted his wrinkled face and gazed at the Holy Mountain in the distance. He knelt on one knee, murmuring a prayer. A faint, fluorescent glow emanated from his old, faded leather armor, carrying with it an aura of radiant sanctity.

After his prayer, Conlar did not continue toward the Holy Mountain. Instead, he turned and headed west, passing through a mountain pass until he arrived before a heavily guarded outpost. Several guards in ornate armor saw the holy light shining from the Paladin’s leather armor and pulled open the wrought-iron gate without a word.

Conlar nodded to the guards and passed straight through the stone gate. The flowing brilliance on his leather armor faded, and it gradually returned to its original appearance. This resonance of holy power was a phenomenon that occurred whenever clergy prayed devoutly toward the Holy Mountain. Its sole purpose was to prove a cleric’s identity and rank of holy power. Clergy of different ranks could move freely through the corresponding institutions of the Church’s court without being announced or inspected—not even the notoriously infamous religious inquisition was an exception.

Beyond the stone archway lay a picturesque valley. A rainbow of wildflowers bloomed on the verdant grass, forming a magnificent, colorful ribbon. Alongside the ribbon, a clear stream flowed out of the valley. The pure water crashed against smooth pebbles, shattering into countless crystal-clear droplets before tumbling back into the ceaseless current. On the other side of the stream were neat and thriving wheat fields, the heavy ears of grain already tinged with gold. The green leaves rustled in the wind, a delightful sound to the ears. At the far end of the fields, a dozen or so farmhouses were scattered in a pleasing arrangement. It was the very picture of a vibrant, thriving countryside.

Conlar followed the stream deeper into the valley. A group of lively children with chubby, bare feet ran past him, leaving a trail of crisp, innocent laughter that echoed around the Paladin. Watching the children run off, Conlar broke into a knowing smile. Several able-bodied men in magnificent holy robes saw the Paladin and greeted him with smiles and respectful gestures, and Conlar nodded to each of them in return.

As they passed each other, Conlar couldn’t help but sigh. Who would have thought that the Inquisition, rumored to be so grim and terrifying, could be so peaceful and serene? He continued onward and soon reached the end of the valley. An exquisite little church sat on the mountainside, with a waterfall like a bolt of white silk cascading down beside it. Amid the rushing water, a platinum-gold rainbow arched over the church’s spire.

Conlar ascended the steps and saw a man in a short robe standing at the church entrance, his hands clasped behind his back as he faced the waterfall.

“Lord Lestar, good day,” Paladin Conlar said, bowing respectfully to the man in the short robe.

Lestar turned around. He looked to be about thirty years old, with thin lips, a hawkish nose, and stern facial lines that gave him a sharp, blade-like air. His eyes, however, were peaceful and calm. These two completely different qualities were surprisingly harmonious in him, making him unforgettable at first sight.

“Conlar, you look a little older. When will you finally step into the Silver realm?” Lestar smiled faintly, and his cold demeanor melted like a frozen river, the scenery around them seeming to come alive.

Conlar was both surprised and delighted. He knew this was a sign that the elements had resumed their flow.

“Congratulations, my lord. You are another step closer to the legendary realm.”

“The legendary realm of a Knight is not so easily attained. I am still far from it.” Lestar shook his head, then added, “But you, on the other hand, have raised your Paladin rank to level four without even entering the Silver realm. Are you unwilling to give up Divine Favor? It seems I should grant you a long leave of absence, lest you stray onto the wrong path.”

Conlar said awkwardly, “Uncle, I will work hard. You know as well as I do how rare Wizards are these days. I was just worried that when I need to advance later, I won’t be able to find any.”

Lestar sighed and nodded. “Indeed, Wizards are becoming fewer and are hiding deeper. Our Trigoval family has presided over the Inquisition for fifteen hundred years, and the Divine Favor we can obtain is far less than before. However, the principle of ‘Knight first’ must never be forgotten. Otherwise, you will age rapidly, unless you can raise your Paladin rank to level six… which is utterly impossible. You must remember, we are Knights first and Paladins second!”

A chill ran down Conlar’s spine. He said respectfully, “Uncle, after this assignment is over, I will return to the family and focus on my training. I will not use any combat divine arts until I become a Silver Knight!”

Lestar nodded. “Good. It is not too late for you to realize this. A Paladin’s combat divine arts use our own bodies as a vessel. While holy power grants us great strength, it also inevitably burns through our potential. Without a constant supply of void element to replenish it, a Paladin’s lifespan is only slightly longer than that of an ordinary person. Such power, at the cost of severing the family bloodline, is not worth having.”

Conlar nodded in agreement and was about to state his purpose for coming, but Lestar stopped him. “Your business can wait. First, we must see off a comrade-in-arms.”

As soon as he finished speaking, blood-red flames rose from a dense forest across from the waterfall. The platinum-gold rainbow was tinged by the fire, becoming a crimson arc. Lestar and Conlar stood solemnly as a sacred radiance emerged from their bodies. Then, a straight pillar of light shot up from the small church’s dome into the clouds, echoing the crimson arc in the distance. A moment later, the flames died down, the pillar of light dissipated, and the rainbow returned to its platinum-gold hue.

Lestar and Conlar intoned in unison, “When all is dark, only radiance endures.”

Seeing Conlar’s questioning gaze, Lestar said in a low voice, “Even the most beautiful scenery could not dispel the gloom in Fermilo’s heart. A pity. He was just one step away from becoming an Adjudicator.”

After a long silence, Conlar sighed. “So he couldn’t hold on in the end.”

Sacred Warriors possessed unwavering conviction and could also gain Divine Favor through battle, but their divine art levels were generally not high. This was because Sacred Warriors were always at the forefront when facing other races and beastmen, so it was difficult for them to live long. The Sacred Warriors of the Inquisition were an exception. In the present day, Wizards hid themselves deep and were much weaker, so the Inquisition’s Sacred Warriors had enough time to raise their divine art levels.

However, the Inquisition’s Sacred Warriors often had to carry out bloody and cruel deeds that contradicted their beliefs. Some would lose their holy power due to a collapse of faith, which, for a Sacred Warrior, was tantamount to being forsaken by the Lord of Radiance. To steady the faith of the other Sacred Warriors, the Inquisition claimed that their sins could be purified by fire, allowing their souls to return to the embrace of the Lord of Radiance. For a thousand years, countless Sacred Warriors who lost their holy power chose to burn themselves to ashes.

Fermilo was an old acquaintance of Conlar’s, a level-four Sacred Warrior of the Inquisition. If he had raised his divine art level by just one more, he would have possessed Silver-rank combat strength and earned the title of Adjudicator, a status equivalent to that of a Paladin.

Fermilo’s completion of his own redemption through self-immolation left Conlar filled with sorrow. Most high-ranking clergy knew that the source of holy power was the Radiant Code, and nowhere in the Radiant Code was there any clause about redemption through self-immolation by Holy Fire. It was simply a lie that could not be exposed. Without this beautiful lie, the Sacred Warriors of the Inquisition would find it very difficult to persevere.

Conlar gathered his thoughts and said to Lestar, “My lord, I have come to report two matters to you.”

Seeing Lestar nod for him to continue, Conlar went on, “The first matter concerns the Ant-men. They have invaded the Centaur Hills, threatening the survival of the populace. According to the rules, this should be handled by the Radiant Knights, but the order is currently unable to spare the manpower. I believe the Inquisition should take on the important task of exterminating the Ant-men and protecting the people. This is also an opportunity for our family to acquire Divine Favor.”

Paladins could use divine arts, making their combat strength far greater than that of Knights of the same rank. Gold-rank Paladins, in particular, could wield a Sacred Domain, allowing them to freely control the power of the Elemental Sea and achieve the same effect as a legendary knight. Therefore, all Gold-rank Paladins were legendary paladins.

Of course, Knights referred to legendary paladins as pseudo-legendary. There was an element of jealousy in this, but the main reason was that a legendary paladin’s domain could only be sustained for thirty minutes, as holy power was always consumed faster than Aura.

Despite the limitations of holy power, the Sacred Domain remained the greatest advantage of Paladin families. To obtain a Sacred Domain, a Paladin had to raise their divine art level to four. Increasing one’s divine art level to obtain Divine Favor was a Paladin’s top priority. The Trigoval family controlled the Inquisition, and what they lacked most now was a stable source of Divine Favor; after all, Wizards were far rarer than monsters. It was no wonder Conlar was drooling over the Ant-men—even Lestar’s heart skipped a beat.

Lestar pondered for a long time before shaking his head decisively. “No! Gambis is a core power of the Spire. The weaker they become, the easier it will be for our plan to succeed. The human kingdoms have been divided for too long. If this continues, we will destroy ourselves long before the Devils appear. Three thousand years have passed since Sword Saint Draven killed the Ogre King. The monsters of the Northern Wildlands will soon produce a new ruler, yet we have no Sword Saint!”

Conlar mumbled for a moment before finally saying, “Uncle, you are right. Without the foundation of our faith, no amount of Divine Favor is useful. It is just… the amount of Divine Favor we have is so far behind the other five families. The family members are becoming resentful.”

Lestar clapped his nephew on the shoulder. “The bigger picture comes first! Although the Inquisition has the most elite Sacred Warriors, they are not our family’s power. If anyone harbors improper thoughts, their path as a Paladin will come to an end.”

Conlar’s expression tensed, and he nodded. “I understand. I will be sure to pass on your words.”

Lestar was very satisfied with Conlar’s understanding. He smiled and said, “Now, tell me about the second matter.”

“Yes!” Conlar’s expression turned serious. “Paladin Vincent found two Wizards in Alexandria Port. Before any battle could take place, one of the Wizards chose to self-destruct, killing his companion in the process. According to Vincent, that Wizard may have been trying to cover up some sort of conspiracy. He acted with extreme fervor, much like a fanatic.”

“Wizards are all a bunch of oddballs. This is nothing to be alarmed about,” Lestar said dismissively.

Conlar nodded. “I thought so at first as well, but Vincent said the Wizard mentioned a scapegoat and another Wizard accomplice called the Corruptor. They are clearly in the middle of some plan.”

“Hm? That is a bit strange. Wizards, who are like rats, actually dare to carry out a plan? Could it be they have some kind of… organization? Or are they rogue members?” Lestar said with a frown.

“I’m afraid it’s the latter,” Conlar replied.

“I see. I will send Constantine to investigate this matter.”

Chapter 135: The Dust Settles

In the Royal Capital of Gambia, the Senate. The leaders or representatives of a dozen powerful families were gathered, discussing the issue of the Centaur Hills.

“Gentlemen, I need not re-emphasize the threat of the Ant-men. What I must state is that none of the three entrances to the Lizard Marsh are within the territory of my York family. The Senate should be urging the Corvaan and Porta families to return to their fiefs and uphold their duties as lords, not discussing how to elevate my duchy into a Dukedom.”

Enbise York, dressed in a magnificent ducal uniform, waved his plump, white fist, passionately expressing his views. The dozen or so powerful nobles of the Kingdom of Gambia all turned their gazes to Duke Wellington.

Duke Wellington said with a deadpan expression, “The Corvaan and Porta families abandoned their fiefs, violating the Lord’s Law, and have thus lost their legal ownership of those lands. I am here to represent them and announce their forfeiture of said fiefs. As for elevating the York duchy into a Dukedom, our Wellington family will offer no opinion.”

“Ha! Two fiefs that are now ownerless. Who wants them? By the way, my esteemed Vice-Speaker Grewald, you have spared no effort in trying to elevate my title. To express my gratitude, I, Enbise York, propose that those two fiefs be handed over to the Grewald family. I’m sure you can block the threat from the Lizard Marsh.” Duke York spoke with a sarcastic tone, addressing Marquess Grewald, the Vice-Speaker, who sat in a high seat to one side.

The Vice-Speaker, his head full of silver hair but his spirit vigorous, replied unhurriedly, “Duke York, the resources of those two fiefs are insufficient to support a giant fortress. To defend against the Ant-man invasion, three fortresses must be built in the Centaur Hills, which will require enough land to support more soldiers. If you are willing to bear the responsibility of guarding the kingdom’s western border, all the territory in the Centaur Hills will belong to your family and your vassals. A territory of that size already meets the standard for a Dukedom. Therefore, there is nothing wrong with my proposal.”

Thwack! Duke York slammed his hand on the armrest of his chair, pointed at the Vice-Speaker’s nose, and roared in fury:

“Cut the games! The York family has never thought of seceding from Gambia; we have always abided by our duty as lords to defend against monsters. In the face of this Ant-man plague, only three families in the entire Centaur Hills are still holding their ground, and my York family has suffered the greatest losses! The Ant-men have existed for at least one thousand five hundred years; everyone knows they are bound to return. This isn’t a disaster for the York family, it’s a disaster for all of Gambia! When we need aid, you actually want to carve the York family out of the kingdom! Listen here, I have no interest in becoming a Grand Duke, and I have no interest in fighting Ant-men. Why don’t our two families swap fiefs, and you can be the Grand Duke!”

Marquess Grewald suppressed his anger and said in a low voice, “You are correct. The Grewald family’s power is too thin to bear the heavy responsibility of defending the Centaur Hills, and the York family’s conduct has been irreproachable. However, the reality is that you occupy the most fertile region of the Centaur Hills. Without a hinterland and strategic depth, what family could sustain a giant fortress on such a small piece of land? How could they feed two thousand soldiers? It’s not that the kingdom won’t aid you; we will transport stone to help you build your fortresses, and we will give you grain and iron. But if the York family occupies the entire Centaur Hills, you will have the potential to defend against the Ant-men independently. You can’t expect everyone present here to aid you forever, can you?”

As soon as these words were spoken, the atmosphere in the meeting grew delicate. Even Duke Nimes’s gaze began to shift evasively. As the representative of the western lords, he had been the first to propose restoring the York family’s ducal title. But at this moment, Duke Nimes had to consider what changes would occur if the York family occupied the Centaur Hills. The most basic assumption was that the York family would grow stronger and stronger, while his own family, forced to constantly provide aid to the Yorks, would grow weaker and weaker.

Perhaps carving the York family out and offering limited aid was in everyone’s best interest. With this thought, Duke Nimes stopped looking at Duke York, who was constantly trying to catch his eye.

The portly Duke York shot Duke Nimes, who was playing deaf and dumb, a fierce glare and shouted, “Who said the York family occupies the entire Centaur Hills? Have you all forgotten that Baron Eskri and Baron Wimbledon are still holding their fiefs?”

An awkward silence fell. None of the dozen or so representatives spoke. Baron Eskri had some backing, but his territory was less than three thousand square kilometers. Once the York family grew stronger, the annexation of Baron Eskri’s fief was the only possible outcome. As for Baron Wimbledon, who didn’t know he was Lady Rose’s paramour? How could such a transparent trick move the powerful families present?

Duke York’s expression turned ugly. In a grim voice, he asked, “How long is the kingdom prepared to aid us?”

“Three years. That’s enough for the York family to complete its reconstruction!” Grewald lowered his eyelids, avoiding the portly Duke’s murderous glare. As expected, he heard York’s shrill cry.

“Three years! What can be done in three years? My York family has suffered immense losses this time; we won’t recover without at least ten years! Who knows when the Ant-men will return? What if they come back in five years? You expect the York family to face those monsters alone?”

Grewald said flatly, “My lord Duke, I must remind you that land is a great fortune.”

The dozen or so representatives nodded one after another. They clearly could not accept the York family’s proposal of taking the land and receiving long-term aid.

“I know. You’re worried we’ll become a threat if we monopolize the Centaur Hills.” Duke York stood up and swept his cold gaze over the crowd. The fat on his face twitched as he spoke, his heart aching with the words, “The York family needs to defend against the Ant-men in the west, so we lack the strength to ensure the security of the northern Centaur Hills. Therefore, we will cede seventeen thousand square kilometers of land from our family’s northern territories to a family capable of defending against the monsters of the northern frontier.”

As soon as he said this, the hall erupted in an uproar.

Grand Duke Williams was having lunch when he received the news from the Senate. He put down his knife and fork and asked his eldest son, “Charles, what do you make of this?”

Charles picked up a snow-white napkin, wiped his mouth, and said, “Father, while this may not be the outcome you envisioned, it’s one that satisfies everyone. We have no reason to refuse, nor is it possible to.”

Williams nodded, sighing with a heavy expression. Gambia needed the York family to be a shield against the Ant-men, but that didn’t mean they could let them leech off the kingdom. Making the York family a Dukedom in the Centaur Hills was a consensus he had reached with Catherine. Although the York family now effectively controlled the vast lands of the Centaur Hills, they currently lacked the population to manage the territory. Especially when they needed to defend against the Ant-men, the Centaur Hills would no longer be able to provide the kingdom with annual tribute and resources. At this point, cutting the Centaur Hills off was tantamount to shifting the burden onto the York family. And for a long time to come, the Dukedom of York would have to rely on Gambia’s support, which meant it would be constrained by the Auguste family.

Williams believed that the other lords of the kingdom would not fail to see this, but he hadn’t expected Sylvia to have such audacity, directly ceding an entire Earldom that wouldn’t have to face the Ant-men. Now, he had no reason to object. And developing the Centaur Hills would become a huge burden on the kingdom’s finances.

“Father, I noticed that Lady Rose is trying to secure the title of Viscount for Baron Victor. It seems the handsome little Baron has truly won Lady Sylvia’s favor,” Charles said with a slight smile.

Williams glanced at his eldest son with approval and nodded. “I originally promised Soren I would help him obtain a merchant association and a Marquess’s title after a year. Since Baron Victor didn’t die, that promise can no longer be fulfilled. I’ll take a viscounty in the Centaur Hills and give it to Soren as compensation. I believe that having two Viscounts from the Wimbledon family in the Centaur Hills will be very… enjoyable. As for the other viscounty, I’ll leave it to Her Majesty Catherine to arrange.”

“Father, Soren and Victor are practically born enemies, and Victor is Sylvia’s paramour. I’m afraid Sir Soren will be in danger if he goes to the Centaur Hills. The York family’s high-level martial strength is formidable. Who would have thought they had seven Great Knights?” Charles said with a frown.

“Soren will not go to the fief to take up his post. He will remain the commander of the Imperial Guard. The viscounty will be managed by his immediate family. We will build a standard viscount’s castle for Soren. As long as the castle is built, the situation in the Centaur Hills will be stable,” Williams said.

Charles hesitated, but finally asked, “Father, there’s one thing I don’t understand. Why did the York family give Baron Victor that three-hundred-square-kilometer piece of land in the north?”

Williams smiled with an air of confidence and said, “Consider that a question I’ve set for you. When you’ve figured it out, you can come and tell me the answer.”

“Yes, Father. I will not disappoint you,” Charles replied in a solemn tone.

Under Charles’s excited and adoring gaze, Williams wore a confident smile while secretly thinking: What exactly does Sylvia mean by giving her little paramour such a tiny piece of land?

At the end of the first month of the Season of Wind, the Senate’s ruling was finally settled. Earl York had his ducal title restored and would continue to serve as the Governor-General of the Centaur Hills Pioneer Fief. The York family would occupy the vast majority of the Centaur Pioneer Fief, with their territory reaching one hundred and forty thousand square kilometers. They would be responsible for clearing the Ant-men from the Centaur Hills and constructing three fortresses at the entrance to the Great Marsh, completely sealing off the Ant-men’s invasion route into the Kingdom of Gambia. The kingdom would exempt the York family from annual tribute and taxes, provide them with materials such as stone, grain, fire oil, and weapons, and grant them an annual military fund of eighty thousand Gold Sols for twenty years.

There would be three other Viscounts and one Baron in the Centaur Hills. They were Viscount Soren, who would occupy nine thousand one hundred square kilometers of land in the north; his fief happened to border Victor’s new piece of land. Viscount Maxim of the Wellington family, who would occupy eight thousand eight hundred square kilometers of land bordering Duke Nimes’s duchy. Baron Eskri’s territory would remain unchanged. And Victor was promoted from Baron to Viscount, with his fief expanding to nine thousand three hundred square kilometers, including that three-hundred-square-kilometer plot in the north. With the exception of the York family, the other lords of the Centaur Hills would still be required to pay annual tribute to the kingdom, but the Church would exempt Victor and Eskri from their tithe for three years.

After Sylvia received the official document jointly signed by the Queen, the Grand Duke, and the Church, she launched a large-scale military operation. She personally led The Rose Knights, composed of six Great Knights and forty-one Knights, to charge the Ant-man swarm besieging Longstone Keep. Over six thousand Ant-men pursued the knights relentlessly, and were ultimately lured to the outskirts of Black Fortress Town.

The York family had prepared a battlefield outside Black Fortress Town, gathering an army of over five thousand, including over two thousand soldiers of the Fanged Legion, over one thousand elite troops from vassal families, one thousand archers, one thousand Sacred Warriors, twenty priests, one hundred and seventy-one apprentice knights, and the full contingent of The Rose Knights.

In the chaos of battle, only two Silver-rank Ant-man leaders were killed, and the clergy from the Church noticed nothing amiss. This was thanks to Sylvia constantly knocking away Ant-man leaders that lunged at the high-ranking knights.

The outcome of the battle was never in doubt. Over six thousand Ant-men were annihilated, while twelve Ant-man leaders escaped. The human army suffered over one thousand five hundred casualties. Among them, two hundred and seventy-one Sacred Warriors were killed and five hundred and fifty-four were severely wounded; four hundred and thirty-seven of the York family’s elite infantry were killed and six hundred and seventy-eight were severely wounded; fourteen apprentice knights were killed, and one Knight was killed. It is worth mentioning that Bruce successfully broke through to the Silver-rank during the battle, becoming a Great Knight. With this, the York family now had eight Great Knights. However, the York family’s vassal class had once again suffered a heavy blow.

As soon as the battle ended, the human army quickly retreated back to Black Fortress Town. Not long after, the scattered Ant-man swarms nearby were drawn to the battlefield by the potent scent of combat. They began to attack Black Fortress Town, and after ten-odd days, the number of Ant-men besieging the town reached over forty thousand. However, the swarms were helpless against Black Fortress Town’s walls, which stood over thirty meters high. Thousands of archers and catapults continuously fired on them with flaming arrows and stones. Whenever the swarms failed to breach the walls and began to disperse, the York family’s knights would charge out from the drawbridge, cut a swath through the thinning swarms, and then return to the fortress.

In this way, the Ant-man swarms were kept pinned outside the walls of Black Fortress Town, constantly enduring a barrage of flaming arrows. Meanwhile, Sylvia secretly left the town with three Great Knights. With the help of the Ash Falcons, they did their best to intercept and kill the fleeing Ant-man leaders. Sylvia believed that only by killing the leaders who knew how to retreat could they truly weaken the swarms’ strength.

At this time, Victor knew nothing of the battle’s details. He had already left Black Fortress Town before the fighting began. He had to return to his fief before the Senate’s envoy arrived, otherwise he would be charged with abandoning his territory.

Sylvia had originally wanted Nicole to protect Victor, but he had refused. Nicole, for her part, didn’t want to miss this opportunity to earn merit. As for Lilia and the other subjects, they would have to wait until the Ant-men in Victor’s fief were cleared out before they could return.

In the end, Victor set off on his journey home, accompanied by the two Alchemical militia, Reno and Shak.

Chapter 136: A Big Surprise

The mountains to the west of Victor’s fief were a series of interconnected hills, the tallest over seven hundred meters high, the shortest less than a hundred. These gently sloping hills resembled giants of all sizes lying upon the earth. The hills were crisscrossed with ravines and winding mountain streams, the complex terrain as intricate as a maze.

The Season of Wind, when the wind element was most active throughout the year. An endless mountain breeze howled through the hills, making the grass and trees rustle. Victor stood atop a tall tree, facing the wind, gazing at a peak several kilometers away. A ridge blocked his view, but he knew his secret base was built on the other side of that mountain.

Suppressing his excitement, Victor slid down the tree trunk with one hand. A Warhound immediately came up to him, wagging its tail and panting, rubbing against him affectionately.

Patting the Warhound’s massive head, Victor turned to a militiaman he didn’t recognize and asked, “What’s your name? What are you doing here?”

“My lord, my name is Moray. This Warhound and I are on guard duty in this area to prevent strangers from stumbling into the small fortress,” the militiaman, dressed in chainmail and carrying a longbow, replied respectfully.

Victor nodded with a smile. “Moray, how many militiamen and auxiliary soldiers do you have now?”

“My lord, we currently have 412 militiamen and 187 auxiliary soldiers. There are also eight other militiamen with Captain Narsen,” Moray answered.

“So many already!” Victor was overjoyed.

Upon returning to his fief, Victor didn’t meet up with Narsen first. Instead, he immediately took Reno and Shak into the mountains, eager to see his secret fortress. In truth, Victor and the two militiamen didn’t know where the secret fortress was built, but the alchemical creatures had already taken control of the entire mountain range. Not long after entering the mountains, an alchemical crow spotted Victor’s party and flew over to guide them. Along the way, Victor ran into Moray, the militiaman on patrol.

Now, escorted by three militiamen and one Warhound, Victor proceeded toward the secret fortress. From the treetops, the small mountain opposite had seemed only a few kilometers away, but following the valley, Victor had to walk a full ten kilometers to reach his destination.

Before he even saw the base, the clanging of metal on metal reached his ears. Rounding a mountain pass, he was greeted by a bustling scene. In the valley, more than two hundred strong men were working tirelessly around a giant brick kiln, forges, animal pens, vegetable plots, and a smithy, their bodies slick with sweat.

Victor had only taken a few steps when the Alchemical auxiliary soldier, Busuo, came forward to greet him. Bowing, he said, “My lord, good day.”

Seeing the familiar face, Victor patted Busuo’s broad shoulders and said with emotion, “Busuo, it’s been a long time.”

“My lord, we have not seen each other for 184 days,” Busuo said flatly.

It had been exactly 184 days since he had ordered the construction of the small fortress. Victor was filled with a mix of emotions and anticipation. “184 days… Show me what you’ve accomplished.”

“As you wish, my lord. Please follow me.” Busuo led Victor toward the camp.

“My lord, according to your instructions, we have reclaimed 1,170 mu of land and planted ground-potatoes, wild celery, round cabbage, and soldier beans. We expect to harvest two hundred forty thousand pounds of ground-potatoes this year. Because we couldn’t collect enough seeds, the area planted with vegetables is only 470 mu,” Busuo explained, pointing to the lush vegetable plots.

Victor visually estimated the size of the vegetable plot, and X-3 quickly provided a precise result. He frowned. “Busuo, there are only 325 mu of vegetable plots here.”

“That is correct. Due to the limitations of the terrain and water sources, the land we cleared is not concentrated in one place. There are another six plots of farmland in other valleys,” Busuo explained.

“I see.” Victor nodded in understanding. There wasn’t much arable land in the hilly region, and farming in the mountains was not only restricted by terrain but also affected by water sources. Furthermore, having these plots scattered about created many difficulties for labor and management. It was already quite an achievement for Busuo and his men to have reclaimed nearly a thousand mu of farmland.

Victor asked worriedly, “These new fields are all out in the open. Won’t they be ruined by wild animals?”

“My lord, the alchemical crows are responsible for guarding the vegetable plots. They drive away birds. If they encounter animals like wild boars or yellow goats, the alchemical crows summon the Warhounds to chase them away,” Busuo answered.

“It seems my worries were unfounded. Let’s go see your livestock farm,” Victor said with a self-deprecating laugh.

Passing through the vegetable plots and walking about two hundred meters further, they arrived at the livestock farm. Seven Lithe Ape militiamen who were working there all bowed to Victor. He raised a hand, signaling for them to carry on with their work and pay him no mind.

Seeing the fat ground lizards packed densely inside a pen, Victor’s scalp tingled and goosebumps prickled his skin. He quickly walked over to another enclosure.

This pen was a full 15 mu in area. Before he even got close, Victor was grinning from ear to ear. Inside were seventeen giant Swiftbirds. They were separated by fences into three groups, which clearly meant there were three adult males among them. This meant the Swiftbird flock could reproduce and grow here, giving Victor a solid foundation for his plan to establish a Swiftbird light cavalry.

Victor observed from outside the pen for a while and saw that the Swiftbirds were all healthy. He nodded in satisfaction, then frowned and asked, “Why are there only Swiftbirds and ground lizards? Are there no other livestock?”

“We also found four draft oxen and seven dairy cows. The Warhounds have already herded them out to graze.”

“That’s not bad.” Victor first acknowledged the achievement of the Alchemical auxiliary soldiers, then continued to ask, “Haven’t you domesticated any wild boars, short-tailed deer, or takins?”

“My lord, the predators in this area have already been eaten by the Warhounds. There is no need to raise the remaining herbivores; they all belong to you,” Busuo said calmly. “We raise ground lizards to supplement the nutrition of the Warhounds and Swiftbirds. Our food supply is abundant. With controlled hunting and gathering, the flora and fauna resources in this mountain region can fully support the needs of fifteen hundred people.”

“Good. Very good.” Victor took a deep breath and pumped his fist in excitement.

Victor had originally considered the Alchemical Warhounds to be the worst alchemical unit. They had huge appetites, short lifespans, and high creation costs, and were essentially cannon fodder. Later, when he discovered that the Warhounds could effectively control his territory, he began to re-evaluate their purpose and turned his attention to the mountains west of his fief.

The mountain terrain was complex and difficult to traverse, and often teeming with fierce beasts and monsters. Unless a valuable mineral vein was discovered, human lords tended not to develop mountainous land. Without the protection of Knights, small squads of soldiers could hardly cope with the dangers of the forests, and the logistics cost alone of establishing a large outpost in the mountains was enough to make most lords flinch. The Centaur Hills were vast and sparsely populated, so the York family’s subjects had no need to wander into the mountains. With the Warhounds, which were like dire wolves, the thousands of kilometers of mountain ranges west of the Centaur Hills became Victor’s private backyard. The natural resources within—the plants and animals, minerals, and medicinal herbs—were all his for the taking.

Victor asked in a low voice, “How far have you explored into these mountains? Have you found any valuable minerals?”

“My lord, we have explored eighty kilometers to the north and discovered a Thorium vein fifty-four kilometers away. However, the predators in that area have not yet been cleared out. As per your orders, our main tasks are currently to build the fortress and forge equipment,” Busuo replied.

Eighty kilometers north of here was already within Baron Eskri’s fief. Victor frowned for a moment, then relaxed. Mountainous regions were never within a lord’s effective control. That poor-as-a-church-mouse Eskri had no ability to develop the mountains whatsoever; he was still holed up in his castle, unable to move, and his few hundred subjects had long since fled to Black Fortress Town for refuge. Nevertheless, Victor secretly resolved to spread the legend of the dire wolves in the mountains to prevent anyone from competing with him for the mountain’s resources.

“My lord, I do not believe it is necessary to plant ground-potatoes and vegetables either. The wild ground-potatoes and crops are sufficient for our consumption. Moreover, the yield of ground-potatoes is not high, only a little over four hundred pounds per mu,” Busuo suggested.

Victor shook his head. “No! I’m afraid that for a long time to come, the entire Centaur Hills will need a crop like this that can fill bellies. These ground-potatoes must be cultivated as seeds… Come, take me to see the equipment you’ve forged.”

The smithy was large enough, though the facilities were rather simple, just a huge shed built to keep out the rain. More than eighty muscular Alchemical humans were inside forging various weapons. The roaring red furnaces, the flying hammers, the rolling waves of heat, and the deafening noise filled Victor with an inexplicable excitement.

Busuo pulled a short spear from a weapon rack and handed it to Victor. “My lord, this is a refined iron one-handed spear we’ve forged.”

The short spear was made entirely of refined iron. It was two meters long, weighed seventeen kilograms, with a 25-centimeter blade that was forbiddingly sharp and gleamed with a faint indigo light. The quality of this one-handed spear far surpassed the standard-issue iron spears of the York family, which were valued at five Gold Sols each. Victor glanced at the weapon rack; there were 421 such one-handed spears. Then he saw batches of shortswords, longbows, daggers, shields, and chainmail—all of them of fine quality. What pleased Victor the most were the more than two hundred Thorium crossbows and six Thorium heavy crossbows.

Busuo reported, “My lord, these Thorium crossbows were made by mixing Thorium with the sinews of common beasts. A Lithe Ape militiaman has enough strength to draw them. Paired with refined iron crossbow bolts, their range and penetration power exceed that of ordinary crossbows, and they can effectively kill creatures with a Physique of twenty points or less. Also, we used up all the sinew from the Savage Bear and were only able to make three more Thorium heavy crossbows. We also forged five hundred Thorium crossbow bolts. My lord, as per your request, we have forged enough equipment to arm four hundred Lithe Ape militiamen.”

Victor smiled in satisfaction and then asked, “What about the Savage Bear’s hide? And my exclusive equipment?”

Busuo opened a two-meter-tall cabinet and pointed to its contents. “My lord, the Dual-Silver leather armor, Dual-Silver shortswords, and Dual-Silver shortbow are all here.”

Victor stared, dumbfounded, at the suit of shimmering silver full plate armor in the cabinet. It was complete with a helmet, gauntlets, and boots. The armor’s lines were fluid and its design elegant, its surface engraved with beautiful and intricate patterns. It was a completely exquisite and magnificent work of art.

“You! I…” After the initial shock, Victor said, exasperated, “Why is it plate armor? Can I even move in this?”

“My lord, this is the Dual-Silver leather armor made from the Savage Bear’s hide. When Thorium was infused into the bearskin, it took on the properties of metal armor. Its total weight is only fifty-five pounds, a little heavier than ordinary leather armor but lighter than refined iron chainmail. Its defensive capabilities far exceed those of metal armor; it can withstand a shot from a Thorium crossbow. Your two Dual-Silver shortswords, the Dual-Silver shortbow, and the thirty Dual-Silver arrows have all been infused with Mithril, giving them elemental affinity. This Dual-Silver equipment possesses the properties of being unbreakable, self-repairing, and having elemental affinity. However, they do not yet meet Class One standards, as our forges are not inlaid with Red Crystals.”

“It’s more than enough! I mean, this is fantastic!” Victor stroked the Thorium armor, unable to put it down. After a long moment, he finally asked, “And my fortress?”

Busuo pointed to the top of the mountain. Victor followed his gesture with his gaze, was stunned, and cried out.

“Why is it six meters high again?!”

Chapter 137

”

”

Victor, clad in silver-white armor, streaked through the woods like lightning. He moved back and forth with a speed that was too fast for the eye to follow. A giant tree, so thick it would take two people to wrap their arms around it, blocked his path. Just as he was about to collide with the massive trunk, Victor pressed his hands against it lightly, and his entire body floated upwards as if it had lost all weight. In the span of a few breaths, he was standing on a branch more than ten meters high. In the forest behind him, three hemlock trees as thick as a man’s leg cracked loudly and crashed to the ground.

”

”

Taking a deep breath, he reached back to take the cyan-white shortbow from his back and drew a matching arrow from the quiver slung at his waist. Buzz, buzz, buzz. The bowstring vibrated, and three cyan-white arrows shot out, disappearing in an instant. With a long cry, Victor leaped across the treetops, sending continuous streaks of light flying from his fingertips.

”

”

A dozen seconds later, Victor landed in front of an iron oak tree. Eight arrows were buried deep in the hard, dense trunk, arranged in a perfect circle. Lifting the visor of his helmet, he slowly calmed his wildly pounding chest. He was more than satisfied with the test results—he was pleasantly surprised.

”

”

The Dual-Silver leather armor forged by Busuo was not only magnificent and beautiful, but also remarkably tough and light. Its defensive power came primarily from Savage Bear hide, which could effectively resist bludgeoning and slashing attacks. After the addition of Thorium, the armor’s defense rose to another level, and its weakness against piercing attacks was also compensated for.

”

”

The full set of armor weighed only twenty-two kilograms, which Victor’s stamina could handle completely. Every joint in the armor was incredibly flexible, with no sense of sluggishness or resistance. When he wore it, his Wind Walk ability was not restricted or weakened; his movement speed was only slightly reduced, as the Dual-Silver leather armor was a bit heavier than ordinary leather armor. But this minor flaw seemed insignificant compared to the advantage of having a defense comparable to a Savage Bear’s.

”

”

The only regret was that the color of the Dual-Silver leather armor was too conspicuous. As an extraordinary archer who relied on stealth, Victor didn’t want to be exposed to the enemy’s eyes. To that end, Busuo had proposed two solutions. He could create a dye for the armor. The second method was to collect the blood of the Great Marsh’s Stealth Spiders and concoct a potion to coat the armor, giving it the ability of a chameleon. Victor chose the second option and was secretly dumbfounded by the black technology of the Alchemical Empire.

”

”

The two Dual-Silver shortswords were incomparably sharp. Wreathed in the wind element, severing a twenty-five-centimeter-thick hemlock tree was like cutting through butter, completely unimpeded. After cultivating the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form, Victor’s Physique had increased to ten points, and his explosive power had seen a significant boost. Coupled with his diligent training in Sword Saint combat techniques, his Wind Walk ability had also undergone a fundamental improvement. If he were to face the Old Ogre again, he was fully confident he could heavily wound it with these two shortswords. This also meant Victor could injure a Knight in close combat—on the condition, of course, that the Knight wasn’t wearing armor.

”

”

Victor had no intention of fighting a Knight up close; he had better options. Master Edwin had once described how High Elf archers could kill targets within four hundred meters, making them comparable to a wind-element Great Knight. Today, Victor finally experienced what Silver-rank archery felt like.

”

”

The fact that the Dual-Silver shortbow wouldn’t be damaged was one thing, but its elemental affinity also increased its rate of fire. In his Wind Walk state, Victor could achieve a rate of one arrow per second, and the Dual-Silver arrows allowed the breeze enveloping them to extend for twenty meters. From the treetops over three hundred meters away, Victor could move and shoot at the same time, and the power of each arrow surpassed that of a crossbow, approaching that of a military heavy crossbow.

”

”

In short, with Victor’s current movement speed, firing rate, and accuracy, a Bronze Knight, even clad in heavy armor and carrying a tower shield, could not escape the fate of being shot to death. If Victor used the Thorium heavy crossbow, even a Silver Knight would be in mortal danger. With this, Victor’s combat strength had reached the Silver-rank. This was the effect of the Dual-Silver equipment, and more equipment could still be forged.

”

”

The thought of commanding over a thousand Alchemical militia equipped with Thorium leather armor and weapons filled Victor with anticipation. He sauntered over to the iron oak tree and reached out to pull the arrows from the trunk. After trying several times, his expression finally soured, and he shouted, “Reno! Get over here and chop this damn tree down for me!”

”

”

”

”

A day later, Victor walked into the Alchemy Tower.

”

”

“King. I’m back again,” Victor connected with the Tower Spirit in his mind.

”

”

“Welcome back, My lord!”

”

”

A familiar voice echoed in his mind, and a smile spread across Victor’s face. “King, report on the Alchemy Tower’s status.”

”

”

“My lord, the Alchemy Tower’s current Soul Fire limit is seven thousand eight hundred and fifty, with one thousand eight hundred and fifty-eight remaining. Reserve funds stand at eighty-eight thousand five hundred and twenty-three Gold Sol. There are four hundred and twenty-nine Lithe Ape militiamen, six Crouching Ox Militiamen, one hundred and eighty-seven Alchemical auxiliary soldiers, thirty-eight Alchemical Warhounds, and seventy alchemical crows.”

”

”

“Very good.” Victor nodded in satisfaction and added, “I want to adjust the production queue. After the current Lithe Ape militiaman is finished, first produce twenty Alchemical Warhounds and fifty alchemical crows. Then, produce in the sequence of two Crouching Ox Militiamen, one Lithe Ape militiaman, and one auxiliary soldier specialized in forging. Repeat this cycle indefinitely.”

”

”

“Production task has been modified,” King replied, then asked in Victor’s mind, “My lord, may I know why you are adjusting the production queue?”

”

”

“I need alchemical units with brute strength right now,” Victor said.

The small fortress Victor had ordered to be built was not meant to be only six meters tall; it had just only been built up to that height so far. According to Busuo’s description, the small fortress would occupy an area of 1.67 hectares, with an underground section twelve meters deep and an above-ground structure thirty-five meters tall. Its brick walls would be two meters thick, capable of withstanding attacks from medium-sized catapults. But constructing such a fortress on a four-hundred-meter-high hill was no easy task, the main problem being insufficient transport capacity.

”

”

Victor had thirty-eight Warhounds on hand. Two were with Narsen, and six were guarding the secret base, leaving the remaining thirty to pull the dog carts transporting various supplies. As the Warhounds were needed to continuously transport Thorium ore and Mithril ore to the distant mountains, the only alchemical units left to haul clay and finished rock bricks were the few Lithe Ape militiamen. The lack of transport capacity had greatly slowed the fortress’s construction progress. After all, there was a considerable gap between the physique of a Lithe Ape militiaman and that of a Warhound.

”

”

Busuo had also told Victor that they had enough auxiliary soldiers specialized in construction. The Alchemical militia could handle construction work under the guidance of the auxiliaries, but they were not skilled enough for weaponsmithing. Complex items like chainmail, in particular, could only be made by auxiliaries proficient in forging.

”

”

After some discussion, Victor decided to adjust the composition of his alchemical units. On one hand, it was to speed up the fortress construction; on the other, it was to prepare for developing the mountainous region, which included clearing out predatory beasts, mining and transporting various ores, and building hidden roads. The powerful Crouching Ox Militiamen were clearly better suited for this physical labor than the Lithe Ape militiamen.

”

”

“By the way, regarding the matter of the Ant-men providing resources for the Alchemy Tower, I have a theory.”

”

”

Victor said, “The Kingdom of Gambia suffered heavy losses in this Ant-man plague. Its military strength was severely damaged, and its crops were destroyed. In the coming years, the kingdom’s financial revenue will be greatly reduced, and it will have to invest huge sums to defend against the next Ant-man attack. If all these losses were converted into Gold Sol, it would be around three million. I once analogized the power of the Law that creates alchemical units to Fortune. The Kingdom of Gambia’s Fortune has been weakened because the Ant-men plundered it. When I killed the Ant-man chiefs, a portion of that Fortune flowed into the Alchemy Tower. If this theory is correct, it means the Ant-men have not yet detached from the Alchemy Tower’s system.”

”

”

King responded, “My lord, the probability of your theory being correct is over ninety percent. I have noticed that over time, the amount of resources added to the Alchemy Tower has been increasing, from an initial seven thousand eight hundred and fifty-three Gold Sol to the current thirteen thousand four hundred and seventy-eight Gold Sol. The greater the losses the Ant-men inflict on the human kingdoms, the more resources are provided. According to your words, the Ant-men are plundering the human kingdoms’ Fortune. Therefore, their production model has not detached from the Alchemy Tower’s creation rules.”

”

”

Victor was silent for a moment, then asked, “King, I want to know, what is the Soul Fire limit of a Military Alchemy Tower?”

”

”

“Typically, it is six times that of a Logistics Alchemy Tower,” King answered.

”

”

Victor quickly calculated. The Soul Fire limit of a Logistics Alchemy Tower was five thousand points. Six times that would be thirty thousand points. An Ant-man chief was worth thirty points of Soul Fire, so there should be one thousand chiefs. Each chief controlled over three hundred Ant-men, meaning the total number of Ant-men would be no less than three hundred thousand.

”

”

“Three hundred thousand pests endlessly regenerating by plundering the Fortune of other races… that is truly despairing. No wonder they could destroy the non-human empires. Following this model of plundering and regenerating, the Ant-men would one day destroy the entire world. A pity for them that they ran into the rebooted Alchemy Tower. As long as the Ant-men dare to come, extinction will be their final fate,” Victor sneered.

”

”

Victor had discussed the Ant-man problem with Sylvia. If the Ant-men were to attack the Centaur Hills again before the fortress was completed, Sylvia would reveal their weakness. At that time, human experts would naturally hunt down the Ant-man chiefs. Once all their Soul Fire was absorbed by the Alchemy Tower, the Ant-men would naturally go extinct.

”

”

“My lord, in theory, that is correct. However, the Alchemy Tower cannot absorb the Ant-men’s Soul Fire once it is closed,” King said.

”

”

Victor frowned and asked, “Can the Ant-men close the Alchemy Tower?”

”

”

“The possibility is very small. Unauthorized individuals cannot influence the Rune Crystal in any way, and alchemical creatures are no exception,” King replied.

”

”

“Then that’s fine. Nothing to worry about. Unless someone with authority personally leads an Ant-man army to attack me. If such a person really exists, I’ll just mobilize the high-level martial powers of the human kingdoms to carry out a decapitation strike on them. I hear the Radiant Knights are very powerful, with nine legendary paladins,” Victor said.

”

”

“My lord, what I meant to say is, if you die, the Alchemy Tower will also be closed,” King reminded him.

”

”

“Damn it! So I’m the one the Ant-men want to kill the most!” Victor was horrified. He pondered for a moment, his eyes turning sharp as he commanded, “King, increase the production number of Alchemical Warhounds to fifty! I’m going to hunt the Ant-man chiefs retreating from this area!”

”

”

Chapter 138: Reunion

In a forest on the western edge of Victor’s fief, Narsen faced a towering iron oak tree and exhaled heavily. Power surged from the soles of his feet, coursed up through his joints and spine, and finally exploded from his fist.

Thud! A dull, heavy sound rang out. Spiderweb cracks appeared on the thick trunk, spreading rapidly. The iron oak tree let out a pained, grating groan before finally crashing to the ground. As dust filled the air, Narsen pulled back his arm and grinned broadly. That one satisfying punch transformed months of hardship into pure joy.

Gazing at the shattered stump of the iron oak, Narsen was filled with emotion. For days, he had endured immense pain, persistently practicing the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form, all for the sake of improving his strength.

As a warrior raised in a mercenary company, Narsen possessed a thirst for power far beyond that of an ordinary person. Despite having an extraordinary Physique, he had never received any systematic training. All his martial skills were killing techniques passed down firsthand by old mercenaries, and he had honed them to their absolute peak.

Narsen had once believed his strength had reached its limit and that he was destined to decline with age. But since practicing the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form, his explosive power had doubled. Narsen was certain that the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form was an incredibly precious secret art. The fact that Victor had imparted this art to him filled Narsen with both reverence and gratitude. He felt reverence because his liege lord was unfathomable, and gratitude because he had earned his liege lord’s favor, being bestowed with such a valuable secret art. The implications of this filled Narsen with excitement.

Clenching his fist, Narsen headed back toward his hiding spot. The camp, deep in the woods, was very simple. A few cramped shelters had been built from branches and covered with leaves, and a fire pit was ringed with stones in the center. There was no fence around the camp; the men staying here were powerful warriors, accompanied by two ferocious Warhounds. Aside from the Ant-men, Narsen didn’t think anything in this area could threaten him, and those Ant-men were busy devouring the Purple Cane forest, unlikely to venture into these woods.

Today, however, something was strange—there wasn’t a single person in the camp. Usually, a few hardened warriors would be out monitoring the Ant-man swarms while others foraged for food, but they always left at least two men behind to guard the camp. Narsen’s expression grew grim. He inspected the campsite but found no signs of a fight, and his gear hadn’t been touched.

Could it be the York family’s Knights? But why hadn’t the Warhounds given a warning? Narsen remembered Victor’s warning before he left. Filled with questions, he quickly donned all his gear, grabbed his two battleaxes, and followed the sentries’ footprints out of the camp.

He had just crested a mound when he heard the fawning whimpers of the Warhounds from the forest, along with the footsteps of a large group of people. Narsen let out a sigh of relief, thinking joyfully, “The Warhounds are being friendly. It must be My lord Victor’s army.”

Soon, dozens of well-equipped soldiers emerged, flanking a Knight in silver armor. Among them were his two companions who had been guarding the camp. Narsen’s heart skipped a beat. The Knight’s armor was exquisite and magnificent, its beautiful patterns clearly etched from Mithril. This was a Silver-rank Great Knight!

“Narsen, what are you doing skulking around here?”

The familiar voice made Narsen’s eyes go wide. He stammered, “Y-You’re My lord Victor?! Y-You’re a Silver Knight?”

Pushing up his visor, Victor felt a secret thrill. This suit of Dual-Silver leather armor looked so much like Mithril plate that he could definitely pass for a Silver Knight while wearing it.

“Let’s go. We’ll talk in the camp,” Victor said with feigned gravity.

Back in the camp, the Lithe Ape militiamen fanned out to stand guard while Victor sat down on a tree stump. Narsen stood stiffly to the side, looking a little uneasy.

“Sit down! What are you standing there for?” Victor pointed to a nearby stump. Narsen’s reverent attitude was baffling.

Narsen rubbed his head and sat down. The magnificent armor Victor wore was putting a lot of pressure on him. Normally, such beautiful Mithril armor represented power and authority, something only a lord who was both a high Noble and a Great Knight could possess. Of course, this was just Narsen’s assumption; in reality, Victor’s armor was one of a kind. The Victor Narsen knew was usually very approachable, and this sudden air of mystery was making him uncomfortable.

“My lord, are you a Silver Knight?” Narsen couldn’t contain his curiosity and asked cautiously.

Victor shook his head. “Of course I’m not a Great Knight. And this isn’t plate armor; it’s Mithril leather armor.”

“What!?” Narsen exclaimed in disbelief, rubbing his eyes hard.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Victor snapped his fingers, and a fully armed Lithe Ape militiaman stepped forward. Pointing at him, Victor said, “Take a look at his equipment.”

Intricate, fine-linked refined iron chainmail, an Iron-oak round shield edged with refined iron, a sharp and deadly-looking spear, a pale crossbow gleaming with a metallic luster, and two refined iron shortswords. Narsen’s jaw dropped at the sight of all this equipment.

Taking the refined iron spear from the Lithe Ape militiaman, Narsen stroked it again and again. “My lord,” he sighed, “I’ve never seen such fine equipment. Not even the gear of the Dodor Kingdom’s Imperial Guard can compare.”

Seeing Narsen’s look of utter envy, Victor laughed. “Everyone’s getting a set. Your gear is already prepared.”

A Warhound came running over, tongue lolling, pulling a dog cart. Narsen leaped up, threw back the tarp on the cart, and his eyes immediately fixated on the contents.

There were two imposing, single-handed refined iron battleaxes. Their crescent-shaped blades shimmered with a blue light, five vicious spikes protruded from their spines, their hafts were covered in intricate patterns, and their pommels were shaped like miniature wolf-tooth maces. There was also a 2.6-meter-long two-handed battleaxe, its blade alone measuring 80 centimeters. The massive weapon was a dark gunmetal black and radiated a ferocious aura.

But what Narsen was staring at fixedly was a full suit of armor. The gunmetal-black plate was forged from refined iron, thick and sturdy. Its unique design and exquisite surface engravings set it apart from any standard-issue armor; it was clearly a custom-made suit of Knight’s armor.

“M-My lord! Is all this for me?” Narsen asked, his voice trembling as he pointed to his own nose.

“Of course,” Victor said. “This armor might need some adjustments. It’s forged from refined iron and weighs a full one hundred and twenty-five pounds. If you find it too strenuous… All right, I guess it doesn’t need changing.”

As Victor was speaking, Narsen had already donned the armor with astonishing speed. He gave a couple of excited hops, showing no sign of strain. He then lowered the visor on his helmet, picked up the one-hundred-pound two-handed great-axe, and walked to the center of the camp. Taking a deep breath, his muscles bulged, and his body began to spin. He spun faster and faster, the dark gleam of the axe creating a swirling vortex that stirred the air with a piercing shriek. The ruthless momentum was enough to make one’s heart pound in fear. Narsen had finally successfully executed the combat technique: Whirlwind Slash.

Though the Whirlwind Slash was terrifyingly impressive, it couldn’t deceive Victor’s eyes. In two seconds, Narsen went from a slow start to completing eight full rotations, covering a circle with a two-meter radius. One could imagine that when surrounded by enemies, the Whirlwind Slash could inflict massive casualties. It was a desperate, all-or-nothing technique.

Narsen panted heavily, feeling an indescribable exhilaration. He walked up to Victor, axe in hand, and knelt on one knee. “My lord,” he said in a deep voice, “I wish to be the sword in your hand!”

Victor’s eyelid twitched. He stroked his chin and thought, This big lug Narsen actually knows how to pledge his loyalty. He’s not so dumb after all!

Narsen wasn’t what you’d call clever, but he possessed the wisdom of self-awareness. Though they hadn’t known each other long, Victor had never doubted Narsen’s loyalty. It wasn’t because Victor believed he possessed some kind of innate kingly charisma. Rather, it was because they needed each other. Victor could give Narsen status, resources, and trust, while the only thing Narsen could offer Victor in return was his loyalty.

Now, Victor had demonstrated his formidable power, given Narsen the opportunity to improve his own strength, and provided him with custom-made equipment. All of this signified great favor and generous treatment. If Narsen failed to show any appreciation for it, then he would be a true fool.

Victor was reminded of Barol, who had also pledged his service. He too had seen Victor’s potential and hoped to secure a core position within his circle. The difference was that Narsen, while not clever, had a character that held fast to a code of honor. Barol, on the other hand, was clever enough but never explicitly pledged his loyalty, choosing instead to simply place his life in Victor’s hands. Yet, the two men shared a fundamental commonality: they both wanted to realize their own value under Victor’s command. Narsen wanted to be a loyal and powerful warrior, while Barol wanted to enjoy the life of a spy.

Victor had an epiphany. Everyone has their own ambitions. As a leader, one must have a spirit vast enough to embrace all talents, rather than fretting over whether one’s subordinates are loyal. To receive, one must first give. As long as the organization he built could help his followers realize their worth, it would continue to grow stronger and thrive endlessly.

“The honor is mine!” Victor said solemnly, placing a hand on Narsen’s shoulder.

“Sit,” Victor gestured for Narsen to sit down, then asked, “This gear weighs over two hundred pounds all together. Does it feel too heavy, or too stiff?”

Narsen patted the armor on his body and said gleefully, “Not at all! It’s very flexible, much better than my old armor!”

Victor looked Narsen up and down, directly reading his elemental attributes. Narsen’s Physique attribute had actually reached 21 points, an increase of 1. This meant that his Physique hadn’t reached its limit and still had potential for growth. After a pang of envy and jealousy, Victor once again felt like he had struck gold.

“Narsen, how effective is the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form?”

Narsen said proudly, “My lord, my strength has increased a great deal, and my explosive power has at least doubled. When I use Whirlwind Slash now, my body doesn’t spasm afterward.”

Victor nodded. He glanced at the Lithe Ape militiaman who was practicing the simplified Mystic Form. Unfortunately, the militiaman’s elemental attributes hadn’t increased. Victor asked him, “How effective has practicing the Mystic Form been for you?”

The Lithe Ape militiaman replied, “My lord, my base strength has increased by twenty percent, my explosive power by fifty percent, and my stamina has grown by thirty percent.”

An idea struck Victor. He tossed a Thorium crossbow to that Lithe Ape militiaman. “Draw it. Let’s see.”

The Lithe Ape militiaman easily drew the thorium string back to the crossbow’s lock. Victor was very pleased. While ordinary Lithe Ape militiamen could also draw a Thorium crossbow, they couldn’t do it so effortlessly. Clearly, the simplified Mystic Form could enhance the strength and endurance of the Alchemical militia. He decided to have all the Lithe Ape militiamen practice the simplified Ox-Subduing Mystic Form, and to devise a simplified version of the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form as soon as possible.

“Narsen, what is the situation with the Ant-men now?” Victor asked.

“My lord, there are still over four thousand Ant-men gathered on the banks of the Goldwater River, and over two thousand more scattered throughout the fief. Half of the territory’s Purple Cane forest has been destroyed. The southern Purple Cane forest, in particular, has been completely devoured by them,” Narsen said with hatred in his voice.

Victor was silent for two seconds, then said in a chilling tone, “I returned to the fief for two reasons. First, I will wait here for the kingdom’s envoy. Second, I’m going to kill every last Ant-man chief.”

“I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time,” Narsen replied in a booming voice, resting a hand on his murderous-looking two-handed axe.

Victor clapped him on the shoulder and said, “You can’t engage the Ant-man chiefs in close combat. You’ll just need to watch from the side.”

“What? My lord, I can hold off the Ant-man chiefs to give you a chance to shoot them down.”

“That job is already taken! Besides, if you were to charge in, I think you’d end up becoming the Ant-man’s shield.”

Chapter 140: Fanning the Flames

The banks of the Goldwater River on the southern edge of the Wimbledon domain stretched for thirty-seven kilometers. Over four thousand Ant-men roamed the river flats, appearing somewhat sparse from a distance. Yet, the moment a battle broke out on the flats, these Ant-men would swarm like hungry wolves that had scented blood. Standing on a high hill, Victor witnessed more than a dozen incidents of Ant-men chasing Fishmen. However, their pursuits were mostly in vain. The Fishmen would wait until the Ant-man swarm was distracted, then seize a lone Ant-man and drag it into the river. By the time the swarm gathered, the Fishmen would have already escaped with their captive into the surging Goldwater River. As the water churned, the green blood of an Ant-man would well up to the surface. The swarm could only screech helplessly on the riverbank.

The Fishmen’s intelligent guerrilla tactics completely upended Victor’s perception of them. “When did these Fishmen start using this strategy?” he asked in surprise.

“Not long after you left the territory, my lord,” Narsen said with a grin. “The Fishmen and the Ant-man swarm had two brutal fights. About a thousand Fishmen were killed, but the Ant-men also suffered heavy losses—two of their chiefs withdrew from the territory directly. After that, the Fishmen started launching sneak attacks, and they’ve kept it up ever since. It won’t be long before they launch another major assault on the swarm. These little monsters are notoriously stubborn.”

The ugly heads of the Fishmen bobbed in and out of sight amidst the waves of the Goldwater River, their hateful gazes fixed on the Ant-man swarm ashore. They clearly had no intention of letting these invaders go.

Victor said, amused, “Narsen, don’t you think these Fishmen are rather cute?”

Narsen was taken aback, then burst into laughter. If these Fishmen hadn’t tied up the Ant-man swarm, the territory’s Purple Cane would have likely been devoured by now. The Fishmen were protecting the Wimbledon family’s Purple Cane resources with their lives. From that perspective, they were indeed quite cute.

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” Victor said. “Let’s give our Fishmen friends a hand and help them have another good fight with the Ant-men.” He turned to Reno, who was standing beside him. “How are the preparations over there?”

Reno nodded. “Everything is ready, just as you instructed, my lord.”

“Then let’s begin,” Victor said, hopping onto a dog cart. He saw Narsen jump onto another, its wheels groaning under the heavy weight. He couldn’t help but ask, “Narsen, don’t you get tired wearing all that armor?”

Narsen slapped his refined iron breastplate, which rang with a loud clang. “My lord, this bit of weight is nothing!” he declared with high spirits. “I’m not tired at all!”

Victor’s mouth twitched. Of course Narsen wasn’t tired sitting in a dog cart; the one getting tired was the Warhound pulling him. Fine, this amount of weight was nothing for a Warhound, but wasn’t he hot sealed up in an iron can? In the end, Victor didn’t ask. Narsen’s answer would surely be that he wasn’t hot. That was his answer yesterday, after all.

Before long, Victor’s party arrived at their destination: a small, dense wood. Outside the woods, hundreds of Ant-men were energetically devouring a patch of cane. Amidst a crunching sound, the three-meter-tall Purple Canes continuously fell over. Victor and Narsen exchanged a look, and both saw the fury in each other’s eyes.

“Doni, is the pit dug?” Victor asked a Lithe Ape militiaman.

The militiaman, Doni, pointed to a nearby pit and replied, “My lord, it’s done. Ten meters deep.”

The two-meter-square pit was a full ten meters deep, its bottom covered with oleander leaves. Beside the pit were two wooden barrels filled with a green paste. The pungent odor made Victor frown. “How long is the preservative effect of these herbs?”

“They can guarantee a corpse won’t rot for thirty days,” Doni answered honestly. “But we can’t be sure if it will be effective on an Ant-man.”

Victor nodded. Just as he was about to speak, he heard Narsen’s voice. “My lord, do we really have to sacrifice these big dogs? They’re powerful and loyal, trustworthy companions.”

Ten Warhounds sat in a row on the ground. Narsen stroked their heads, deeply reluctant to sacrifice these powerful dire animals. Seeing this, Victor sighed. “The Ant-man chief is a Silver-rank monster. How can we expect to kill a Silver-rank monster without any sacrifice? These Warhounds were bred using a secret potion. They cannot reproduce, have short lifespans, and their appetites are too large. We can’t afford to keep so many of them at the moment.”

“My lord, these Warhounds are about as strong as a Savage Gnoll. It’s too much of a pity to sacrifice them like this. Besides, the territory is teeming with wild boars. Feeding them shouldn’t be a problem! Why not let me try? With the Warhounds pinning it down, I can definitely do it!” Narsen said, gripping his two new battleaxes, eager for a fight.

“Maybe if you trained for another three months and mastered the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form!” Victor shot Narsen a glare, then explained patiently, “Don’t be fooled by the number of wild boars in the territory. The Warhounds would eat them all in a matter of months. That would be a pity!”

“My lord, wild boars destroy crops. It’d be for the best if they all died. What’s so pitiful about that?” Narsen asked, perplexed. Wild boars were considered pests; when the War Bear Mercenary Company had been in dire straits, they had even taken on missions to cull them.

Victor felt a bit of a headache. The Warhound was a standard template for a dire animal, and one dire animal required a territory of at least one hundred square kilometers to ensure an adequate food supply. Raising too many Warhounds would only deplete the territory’s animal resources. Victor had no intention of explaining environmentalism or sustainable development to Narsen, so he simply said, “The wild boars are very useful to me. I plan to raise them in large numbers when the territory’s reconstruction begins.”

Scratching his refined iron helmet, Narsen was rather puzzled. No one in the human kingdoms raised wild boars, because the lords disliked the fatty meat.

If Lord Victor says it’s useful, then it must be very useful. He always sees wealth where others see none. At this thought, Narsen stopped纠结 and instead felt a surge of excitement and anticipation.

“Let’s begin!”

At Victor’s command, a magnificent Warhound roared and pounced on the Ant-man swarm in the Purple Cane forest. Before they could react, it bit the two outermost Ant-men to death, barked a few defiant challenges, then turned and ran toward the riverbank.

The alerted Ant-man swarm let out a piercing screech and gave chase, a black tide surging after the Warhound, which was now covered in green blood. In a flash, they were gone, leaving only the Ant-man chief standing alone. The chief turned its head, slowly preparing to leave. Just then, another Warhound shot out, its hackles raised and its cold, sharp fangs bared, blocking its path.

The Ant-man chief saw the calf-sized Warhound. After a quick assessment, it concluded the beast before it had no value as prey and continued to walk forward.

The Warhound’s green eyes turned blood-red. The muscles under its fur bulged, and its entire body swelled, becoming a size larger. With the speed of a thunderclap, it lunged behind the Ant-man chief, bit down hard on one of its hind legs, and yanked back with all its might. Its sharp fangs scraped violently against the carapace, producing a sound that set one’s teeth on edge, but ultimately it failed to shatter the Ant-man chief’s tough armor.

Dragged into a stumble by the immense force, the Ant-man chief was instantly enraged. A sabertooth tiger might not hunt a mouse, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t get angry if a mouse bit it. The Ant-man chief raised its hind leg and brought it down on the Warhound, intending to crush the overconfident beast into a meat paste.

Bang!

The Ant-man chief’s foot stomped on empty air, its leg sinking deep into the shattered earth. A Warhound in a Bloodlust state was incredibly fast. It dodged the fatal stomp and took another bite out of the Ant-man chief’s leg. Provoked again, the Ant-man chief’s rage turned to fury. It pulled its leg free and gave chase.

The Silver-rank Ant-man ran on all four of its legs, reaching a speed of twenty meters per second, but it still couldn’t catch the Warhound that had activated Bloodlust. And so, the powerful, savage monster chased the Warhound all over the field. The Warhound didn’t run far, simply leading its opponent in circles around the area.

Ten minutes later, the Bloodlust state finally ended. The Warhound deflated like a leaking balloon, its full-bodied form shrinking as its speed dropped dramatically. The Ant-man chief lunged forward, seized the weakened Warhound, and tore the detestable animal in two.

Letting out a triumphant screech, the Ant-man chief turned to leave, only for another Warhound to emerge from the Purple Cane forest. The same scene played out once more.

When the Ant-man chief killed the sixth Warhound, Narsen saw the creature’s mangled limbs scattered in a pool of blood and could no longer suppress his anxiety. He asked Victor, “My lord, isn’t that enough!?”

Victor remained unconcerned. The Warhounds were meant to be sacrificed. The production cost of one Warhound was twelve hundred Gold Sols. As long as the losses did not exceed ten, this operation would not be a loss.

A short while later, Reno came over and reported to Victor, “My lord, the Ant-man swarm has been led to the designated location.”

Victor’s eyes lit up. He made a gesture, and the remaining four Warhounds charged the Ant-man chief at the same time.

While the Ant-man chief was entangled with the four Warhounds, Victor, hiding three hundred meters away, shot it through the head with his Thorium heavy crossbow. The surviving Warhounds quickly fled from the chief’s dying struggles. After thrashing for some time, the Ant-man chief finally breathed its last.

“Quick!”

The Warhounds dragged the Ant-man chief’s corpse toward the pit. Several militiamen rushed to the battlefield with buckets of wild boar dung and used it to cover the chief’s green blood. The chief’s body was thrown into the deep pit by the Warhounds. After the specially mixed preservative herbs were poured in, the militia refilled the pit. Once everything was done, Victor led everyone away from their hiding spot in the woods.

Meanwhile, in a valley near the riverbank, the leaderless Ant-man swarm had descended into chaos. Two hundred Lithe Ape militiamen armed with longbows fired deadly arrows from a hilltop into the swarm, which had begun to kill one another. After several volleys, the more than four hundred Ant-men lay dead in the valley. The Lithe Ape militiamen then decisively retreated toward the western part of the territory.

The Ant-man swarm on the riverbank scented the death of their kin, and more than three thousand of them charged toward the valley. Once they were far from the riverbank, the Fishmen in the Goldwater River surged onto the shore.

And just like that, another fierce battle erupted between the Fishmen and the Ant-men.

Chapter 140: The Value of the Ant-men

Half a month later, in the mountains west of Victor’s fief.

The secret fortress was built atop a hill more than five hundred meters high. The hill was surrounded by mountains on three sides, with its back to a cliff hundreds of meters tall. Below the cliff lay the mist-shrouded Lizard Marsh.

Victor was extremely pleased with the location of the secret fortress. The three jagged hills were a natural barrier, enclosing the fortress hill in their midst and leaving two perilous mountain passes as the only connections to the outside world. At the foot of the fortress hill were two valleys with a combined area of over two thousand mu. A mountain stream flowed through the bottom of the valleys, and along its banks were a brick kiln, a blacksmith shop, a breeding farm, and several hundred mu of farmland.

Dozens of sturdy militiamen pushed wheelbarrows, continuously hauling finished rock bricks up to the mountaintop. The tall, robust Crouching Ox Militiamen could carry several times more bricks in a single trip than the Lithe Ape militiamen. It was thanks to this ample manpower that the fortress’s construction speed had increased many times over. So far, the fortress walls had reached a height of sixteen meters, and Victor estimated it would be completed in another forty days.

By then, with the fortress as his base, he could advance to attack or retreat to defend, finally giving him true control over this mountainous region. However, although the secret base was in a hidden, defensible location, it, like the Hill Camp, had no line of retreat. At this thought, Victor walked around to the back of the construction site and gazed down the cliff. He saw a sheer drop of 676 meters, and couldn’t help but frown. He turned to Busuo, who was following beside him, and asked, “Is there a way to build an escape route?”

“My lord, we could build a system of winches and iron cables. We can carve out footholds on the cliff face, and using those footholds, we can build another set of winches and cables, eventually reaching the bottom of the cliff safely. To conserve iron, I suggest we set up the winches in the valley. That way, the cliff’s drop is only a little over three hundred meters, and we can reduce the length of the iron cables by half,” Busuo replied.

Victor thought it over carefully before nodding. “First, forge weapons and equipment for twelve hundred men. We’ll consider building the winch system after we find new ore veins.”

As they were speaking, Jack the militiaman approached and reported, “My lord, the Ant-man chief’s body has been brought back. It’s perfectly preserved, with no signs of elemental dissipation.”

Though he had expected it, Victor’s pupils still constricted slightly. Elemental dissipation was the phenomenon where, after the death of an alchemical unit, its body would rapidly decompose into void elements through a process resembling rot. The process of elemental dissipation took no more than thirty days, after which the alchemical creature’s corpse would completely vanish. This was a key feature that distinguished alchemical creatures from natural life.

Victor had previously noted that Ant-men would devour the corpses of their own kind but would not touch the bodies of Warhounds. Coupled with the Ant-man chief’s Life attribute of a full thirty points, he had suspected at the time that the Ant-men might be a type of natural life form connected to the Alchemy Tower. To verify this guess, Victor had formulated and executed the plan to hunt the Ant-man chief. After concealing the scent and taking anti-corrosion measures, the ant colony indeed failed to discover that their chief had been killed. Subsequently, Victor used the same method to deal with three other retreating Ant-man chiefs.

“Take me to see it!” The Ant-man chief was, after all, a Silver-rank monster. Victor had come today specifically to confirm its value.

Arriving at the blacksmith shop, he found several Alchemical militiamen dissecting the Ant-man chief’s corpse with sharp Thorium knives. They were highly skilled; the Ant-man’s black carapace had already been peeled off, revealing the dark green flesh beneath. A pungent, fishy odor filled the entire room. Victor endured it for a short while before retreating outside.

Taking a deep breath of fresh air, Victor asked, “Jack, is this Ant-man corpse valuable?”

“My lord, the Ant-man’s carapace and sinews are both Category II materials. Its heart was originally a Category II material as well, but it’s useless now due to blood loss,” Jack answered swiftly. Collecting various materials was his old trade.

“What is the Ant-man chief’s heart used for?” Victor naturally knew the uses for the carapace and sinews; what intrigued him was that the heart was also a Category II material.

“It can be used as a raw material for alchemical potions.”

Victor immediately lost interest. There were countless types of alchemical potions with powerful functions; some could even directly enhance a human’s elemental attributes. Victor coveted the potent effects of these potions, but unfortunately, the Alchemical militia could only identify materials, not create the potions themselves. According to Reno, alchemical potions had to be crafted personally by an Alchemist. The Alchemical Empire had fallen tens of thousands of years ago; it was unlikely one could even find the ashes of an Alchemist’s bones.

“Can the carapace and sinews be used to forge Thorium armor and Thorium heavy crossbows?” Victor asked, full of expectation.

“Yes,” Busuo gave an affirmative answer.

The power of the Thorium heavy crossbow was beyond doubt, but due to a lack of high-quality sinew material, Busuo had been unable to continue their production. Victor had a flash of inspiration and turned his attention to the Silver-rank Ant-man chief. If the sinews of a Savage Bear could be used as bowstrings for Thorium heavy crossbows, then the sinews of an Ant-man chief should also be suitable. Thus, when devising his battle plan, Victor had added the step of processing the Ant-man chief’s corpse.

To prevent the ant colony from finding the chief’s body, Victor had ordered the Alchemical militia to dig a ten-meter-deep pit in advance and had also prepared antiseptic herbs and Oleander leaves to mask the scent. After burying it for more than ten days and confirming that the ant colony could not track the body, Victor finally had the militiamen dig it up and transport it to the secret base for further processing. As expected, the Ant-man chief’s value was immense, and it did not disappoint Victor.

“Busuo, how many Thorium heavy crossbows and suits of Thorium armor can be made from this Ant-man chief’s corpse?” Victor asked with a smile.

“Enough to make six Thorium heavy crossbows and one suit of Thorium armor,” Busuo replied.

“Are you sure six, not three?” Victor was skeptical. The sinews of that Savage Bear had only produced four Thorium heavy crossbows, and the Ant-man chief was clearly much smaller than the giant bear.

“My lord, the Ant-man chief’s sinews are very thick. After being split, they are perfectly sufficient for making six heavy crossbows. However, Category II sinews are extremely tough; we will need Adamantine knives to complete the task of splitting them,” Busuo explained.

“I’ll take care of the Adamantine.”

Adamantine was highly valuable and could make weapons much sturdier and sharper, but unlike the exceedingly scarce Mithril, it could still be traded for on the market. Victor frowned, then asked, “How does the Dual-Silver armor made from Ant-man carapace compare to my Dual-Silver leather armor?”

“My lord, your Dual-Silver leather armor is Category III armor. The Ant-man carapace is a Category II material, a whole tier higher,” Busuo said. “The Dual-Silver armor made from the Ant-man carapace will have its defense increased by fifty percent and its weight reduced by ten percent.”

Victor felt as if he had been struck down by happiness. There were still over five thousand Ant-men active in his fief. Calculating based on one chief controlling four hundred Ant-men, there were at least thirteen chiefs. Adding the chiefs that had retreated from Viscount Briart’s Fief and Earl Chapman’s domain, Victor estimated he could intercept no fewer than sixty chiefs. If he could kill all of them, he could produce three hundred and thirty Thorium heavy crossbows and sixty sets of top-tier armor. In any case, Victor hadn’t planned on letting a single one of these Ant-man chiefs go, and now he had even more reason not to.

“Get the dog cart ready! I’m going to hunt Ant-man chiefs!” Victor commanded loudly, his eyes glinting green.

As evening fell, the banquet hall of the Black Fortress was illuminated as bright as day by hundreds of lizard-oil candles. A dozen formidable armored warriors stood motionless around the hall, holding long halberds. Slender, beautiful handmaidens strode with light steps, placing platters of rare delicacies upon the long dining table. The brilliant candlelight, the solemn warriors, the gentle and lively handmaidens, and the countless delicious dishes wove together a scene of a great noble’s evening banquet.

“Viscount Tenis, you are a renowned gourmand among the nobles of the Royal Capital. Please, what is your critique of this Steamed Whitefin Fish?” said the plump Duke York with a warm and friendly smile.

Viscount Tenis set down his silver knife and fork, an elegant smile on his face. “My lord Duke,” he said politely, “this is a delicacy I have never before tasted. I would guess you have acquired several Halfling recipes, as the preceding dishes were equally outstanding.”

Seeing Tenis’s slightly stiff smile, the frustration in Duke York’s heart vanished completely. On the road back to the Centaur Hills, the envoy from the Royal Capital had been polite and humble, his demeanor impeccable. However, behind that elegant bearing was a thick air of superiority. Stepping into a carriage required deliberation over whether to lead with the left foot or the right, and sitting down necessitated placing a soft cushion underneath first. Duke York was angry, very angry. He had to show this arrogant pretty boy from the Royal Capital what a thousand-year-old family and a true noble legacy were. Upon returning to his castle, Duke York had hosted a grand reception for the Royal Capital’s envoy, and those two master chefs, who were accustomed to looking down their noses at people, had certainly not brought shame to the Duke’s name. York decided he would elevate the two master chefs to the rank of family vassals—their Goat Tavern had been demolished anyway.

“To receive the approval of a Royal Capital gourmand, I can rest assured. Viscount Tenis, please, enjoy the food to your heart’s content,” Duke York said enthusiastically, raising his chopsticks as he urged him on. He wanted to see Tenis’s窘迫 (awkwardness) for a while longer.

Viscount Tenis’s elegant smile grew even stiffer. He wished he could plant his fist on Duke York’s fat face. As a court noble, Tenis prioritized elegant etiquette, appearing neither servile nor overbearing even when facing a powerful noble like Duke York. But this welcome banquet had turned Tenis into a complete country bumpkin.

Duke York’s banquet was, in his opinion, nothing special; Tenis could find many faults with it. For instance, those armored warriors were wearing actual armor. Did they think this was a battlefield? And these beautiful handmaidens, the long, white thighs revealed beneath their slit skirts were certainly attractive, but wasn’t their gait a bit too vigorous? They even had calluses on their palms from sword practice. These weren’t handmaidens; they were clearly well-trained swordswomen. Using elite warriors as an honor guard and swordswomen as handmaidens was highly unprofessional and rude to one’s guests.

Tenis scoffed internally but continued to chat and laugh with Duke York without showing a hint of it. When the dishes were served, Tenis was astonished to find that he didn’t recognize a single one. How was a Viscount supposed to eat dishes he didn’t know? After all, every main course had its own unique dining etiquette. So, the Viscount had demurely asked Duke York how to best enjoy these delicacies that were a feast for the senses. Duke York had a handmaiden present everyone with two short, ivory sticks and personally demonstrated how to use this unique utensil. And then, Viscount Tenis made a fool of himself. Because he did not know how to use the new utensils called “chopsticks.”

Resting both hands on the table, Tenis smiled at Duke York. “Thank you for your hospitality. I am full.”

“What a pity, the main courses haven’t even been served yet. Knight Romon, Knight Vinnie, don’t be polite. Please, enjoy yourselves,” Duke York said with a grin, turning to Tenis’s attendant knights.

Tenis glanced back to see his two companions wielding their chopsticks with practiced ease and almost spat blood. He gave a dry cough and said, “Ahem. My lord Duke, after we complete the investiture ceremony tomorrow, I must also travel to invest Baron Victor with the title of Viscount. However, Viscount Victor’s fief is a long way off. I hope you might dispatch knights to escort my convoy.”

“My knights are currently fighting the Ant-men, so I’m afraid I cannot escort you to Viscount Victor’s fief. I can only dispatch a small cavalry squad to guide you. Also, I suggest you abandon the carriage and travel on horseback,” Duke York replied.

Viscount Tenis was startled. “My lord Duke,” he said in a low voice, “I heard that Viscount Victor’s castle was destroyed by the Ant-men. How am I to find Viscount Victor in the wilderness? I’m afraid we will have to search in the wild for many days. Although I have two knight companions, there are a great many Ant-men in Victor’s fief. You know, if we cannot find Viscount Victor, his title cannot be conferred.”

“If you don’t provoke the Ant-men, they won’t attack you. As for finding Viscount Victor, that is also simple. Once you enter Victor’s fief, he will find you,” Duke York said meaningfully.

Tenis wisely chose not to press for the reason. In any case, if they couldn’t find Victor, they would just leave. He pondered for a moment, then asked, “My lord, I need to know the purpose of that small piece of fiefdom to the north of Viscount Victor’s land.”

“Baron Victor… oh, he’s a Viscount now. Viscount Victor is a man of great principle. He intends to build the first line of defense against the monsters of the north there.”

Viscount Tenis, “…”

Chapter 141: Vinnie’s Idea

The Blackwater River flowed quietly as Viscount Tenis’s carriage procession traveled south along its bank.

Inside the luxurious and spacious carriage, Tenis sat upright, observing the York family’s cavalry through the window, a thoughtful look in his eyes.

“Tenis, didn’t you say Duke York was just a run-of-the-mill country noble? Why are you staring at his cavalry?”

The female knight, Vinnie, had a delicate nose, cherry-like lips, and skin as fair as jade. Her long, wavy golden hair cascaded down. She stretched languidly, her full chest and long, straight legs forming a tempting curve beneath her tight leather armor. Tenis’s heart skipped a beat, and he quickly averted his gaze, not daring to look for long. Seeing Tenis’s lack of reaction, a flicker of disappointment crossed Vinnie’s eyes.

Tenis naturally understood the female knight’s feelings, but he was determined to become the Grand Vizier. Besides his own political achievements, his marriage was a crucial political asset. Tenis could only disappoint Vinnie and her affections.

Seeing the atmosphere in the carriage grow awkward, the middle-aged Knight Romon interjected, “The York family are typical provincial nobles. They are very different from us Royal Capital nobles. For example, the York family’s attendants and handmaidens all possess decent martial skills, which is unthinkable to us. But for provincial nobles, it’s perfectly normal. Look at that cavalryman—isn’t he one of the honor guards from yesterday?”

“Really! I didn’t even notice.” Vinnie craned her neck to look at the cavalryman outside the window and said in surprise, “Why would Duke York have real warriors act as an honor guard? Have they fallen on such hard times that they can’t even afford to maintain a proper one?”

“It’s not that strange,” Viscount Tenis said. “A lord’s attendants are the younger sons or daughters of their vassals. Although they don’t have the status of a vassal, they receive the education of one from a young age. They serve their lord, but ultimately, they must find their own path. These attendants might become city guards, soldiers in the Magistrate’s Office, or officials in the tax office. If the handmaidens don’t become a noble’s personal handmaiden, they will marry other vassals. They will then be responsible for raising the vassals’ children, so learning martial skills is also necessary.”

Vinnie furrowed her brow and said worriedly, “Does that mean the provincial lords are stronger than us?”

“Quite the opposite.” Tenis gestured with his chin toward the window and asked, “Vinnie, who do you think is stronger, the York family’s cavalry or the ones we brought?”

Outside the carriage, the cavalry were clearly divided into two groups. The York family’s cavalry were inferior to the cavalry Tenis had brought from the Royal Capital in every aspect—equipment, mounts, physique, and horsemanship.

“The York family’s cavalry is no match for ours, but those are cavalry from the Royal Capital’s Imperial Guard, not soldiers from our own family,” Vinnie said, shaking her head with a sigh.

“That depends on how you look at it,” Tenis said with a smile. “Our family doesn’t even have cavalry, so how can we compare to the York family? However, we Royal Capital nobles are one with the royal family. To be precise, we are all vassals of the royals. Our etiquette, attendants, and handmaidens all completely imitate the royal standard. The royal family’s soldiers are just soldiers, and their attendants are just attendants. It’s not like the provincial lords, whose vassals’ children serve as both attendants and soldiers. The York family’s soldiers not only have to hone their martial skills, but they also have to tend to their own fiefs during the busy farming season. Therefore, their attendants are no match for the Royal Capital’s attendants, and their cavalry is no match for the Royal Capital’s cavalry. Someone who focuses on one thing will naturally be better than a jack-of-all-trades.”

“That’s true,” Vinnie nodded, then asked in confusion, “Then why don’t the provincial lords emulate the royal family?”

“Because the lords are too poor,” Tenis explained. “All the lords of the kingdom pay an annual tribute to the crown, which gives the royal family enough wealth to cultivate specialized talents: artisans, soldiers, painters, attendants, horse breeders. Even we Royal Capital nobles are cultivated by the royal family. Take our Peixike family, for instance: our scholars serve in the court, and our knights serve in the Imperial Guard. We serve the royal family, and they give us a stipend. Romon is a knight of the Imperial Guard, and his annual stipend is eight thousand Gold Sol. A knight of the York family receives less than half of Romon’s annual stipend. The stipends the royal family pays out each year are a huge expense. The lords already struggle to support their own armies, so how could they have the money to cultivate specialized talents.”

Tenis’s tone shifted as he continued, “However, the York family now has the foundation to change their situation. Although they suffered heavy losses this time, they gained a vast territory and have even invested their high-ranking knights as vassal lords. Most importantly, for the next twenty years, not only will the York family be exempt from paying their annual tribute, but they will also receive financial support from the kingdom. They already have a dedicated chef and have even created their own unique dining etiquette… Hmm, perhaps in another decade or so, the beginnings of a Dukedom will emerge.”

“Tenis, there’s one thing I’ve never understood,” Knight Romon interjected. “Those Ant-men may be terrifying in number, but they are mindless insects with simple, rigid tactics. The kingdom is perfectly capable of sealing off the entrances to the Great Marsh, so why hand over the Centaur Hills to the York family? Isn’t that just cultivating a rival for the kingdom?”

Tenis glanced at Romon. The knight’s thoughts represented the views of many Royal Capital nobles. They all coveted the territory of the Centaur Hills, but they didn’t realize that for a Royal Capital noble to manage a fief and build up their family’s power was a major taboo for the royal family. Tenis felt it was necessary to explain the stakes to Romon, lest he be used by someone with ulterior motives and hinder his own path to promotion.

“The kingdom’s original strategic focus was to expand northward and annex the increasingly weak Dodor Kingdom. Unfortunately, the situation changed too quickly. His Majesty Ryan fell in battle, Emperor Lant rose to power, and the Sasan Empire stopped attacking Dodor. The kingdom’s strategy shifted from offense to defense. Compared to the newly acquired Centaur Hills, the well-developed heartlands are more important. The York family’s high-end combat power is formidable, but their overall strength is far from comparable to the royal family’s. Fighting the Ant-men relies on overall strength, not high-end combat power. Since the York family is willing to defend the Centaur Hills, what reason does the royal family have to refuse? Heh heh, even if the York family seals the three entrances, what will they use to build other fortresses? Without enough fortresses, the Centaur Hills are essentially undefended from the kingdom’s perspective. Of course, as long as Lady Rose is around, the royal family won’t take harsh measures against the York family. If the York family were to lose Lady Rose, they would have no choice but to obediently submit to the crown. Lady Rose is powerful, but everyone knows her problem. Meanwhile, the Auguste family’s Gold Knights are endless. Ultimately, a noble bloodline is the foundation of the royal family. I must remind you that we Royal Capital nobles must follow the royal family’s lead. Only when the kingdom is strong will our families have the chance to grow. Romon, don’t let anyone lead you astray. Just focus on doing your job well. When the royal family needs to, they will naturally grant us fiefs, just like Viscount Soren.”

Romon’s expression turned serious. “I understand!” he said grimly.

Vinnie, however, was dumbfounded. “Lady Sylvia actually forced the royal family to compromise all by herself? Just how strong is she?”

“Eight years ago, the Sasan Empire launched the Battle of Whitewater Fortress, intending to break through the gates of the Dodor Kingdom in one fell swoop. The battle ended in the Sasan Empire’s defeat. Not a single Gold Knight participated in the entire campaign. Do you know why?” Tenis asked Vinnie.

“Why?”

In battles between human kingdoms, Gold Knights were not easily deployed. But the Battle of Whitewater Fortress concerned the survival of the three great kingdoms, so it was impossible for the warring parties not to dispatch their Gold Knights. However, in the brutal Battle of Whitewater Fortress, five Silver Knights fell, yet there was no sign of a single Gold Knight. Vinnie had only recently been promoted to a knight. She was not yet privy to many of the secrets of the noble circles.

Romon said in a low voice, “In the Battle of Whitewater Fortress, the Sasan Empire deployed nine Gold Knights, and our three great kingdoms sent seven. Our kingdom of Gambis sent Marquess Golan and Lady Rose. Under the witness of the Church, the Gold Knights from both sides held a contest. Lady Rose was the first to fight, and she defeated three Gold Knights from the Sasan Empire in a row, stunning everyone present.”

“And then?” Vinnie pressed on, her eyes shining.

“And then there was no ‘and then’. The Sasan Empire’s Gold Knights conceded defeat and no longer participated in the battle for Whitewater Fortress. Thus, the intensity of the battle was limited to the Silver-rank. After the war, the King of Dodor named Sylvia the Queen of Roses and gifted her a viscounty’s worth of land. Lady Sylvia also became known as the First Gold Knight,” Romon said, shaking his head with a sigh.

“How incredible! The Queen of Roses is a role model for all us female knights.”

Although there were many female knights, most had an affinity for the water element, while most male knights had an affinity for the earth element. Because of this difference in elemental affinity, female knights had always been the relatively weaker party. The fact that Sylvia alone could make all the heroes bow their heads, her brilliance outshining all her contemporaries, filled Vinnie with admiration, but also indignation. “A powerhouse like that, and His Majesty Ryan chose to suppress her instead of winning her over? Could he have fallen for the King of Dodor’s scheme?”

Tenis gave a wry smile. “His Majesty Ryan was wise and powerful. How could he not see through the King of Dodor’s petty tricks? Sylvia is the Duchess of York and a rare fire-element Gold Knight. How could he possibly win her over? The battle at Whitewater Fortress gave the eastern lords of the kingdom many ideas, and a lord’s will is influenced by their dependents and vassals. It wasn’t a matter of the York family simply choosing not to expand. The late king was forced to reintegrate the eastern lords’ forces. At the time, the strategy formulated by the Ministry of Internal Affairs was to first suppress, then praise the York family—dismantle the restless peripheral lords of the York family, then find a way to appease Lady Sylvia. The royal family had sent an envoy to communicate with the York family and made them a promise. Although the York family was very dissatisfied, they had no choice but to accept. After all, the royal family had three Gold Knights at the time.”

“Just when it was about to succeed, His Majesty Ryan was ambushed and killed by Neowist. This matter is shrouded in suspicion, and the royal family is still investigating it to this day. We should only discuss this among ourselves. Absolutely do not bring it up with people from other families, lest we attract the attention of the Night Owl and create unnecessary misunderstandings.”

Thinking of how the kingdom’s excellent situation had been inexplicably ruined, Tenis sighed endlessly. For a court noble like him, the more powerful the royal family, the greater his own power.

Seeing her beloved’s spirits were low, Vinnie’s eyes darted about and she said with a coquettish laugh, “I heard that the Viscount Victor we’re going to invest this time is Lady Sylvia’s lover?”

Gossip about important figures was always a popular topic, regardless of gender. As expected, Viscount Tenis smiled and said, “Viscount Victor Wimbledon is a very fine young man. When he was in the Royal Capital, he was very popular with the noble ladies and young misses.”

“Tenis, have you met him? Is he as beautiful as the elves of legend?” Vinnie asked with great interest.

Tenis mused, “The scions of noble families who awaken the bloodline of the Moon Elves often have difficult fates. They have delicate features but lack the power to protect themselves. It’s better for the women. A boy like Victor, born into a down-and-out family, would inevitably be sold by his parents to become some great noble’s plaything. However, Victor’s luck was good. He gained Lady Sylvia’s favor and became a lord, even if only in name.”

Vinnie said in a low voice, “If that’s the case, could we perhaps work on Viscount Victor? We might gain something unexpected.”

“Don’t be so naive. The will of a Gold Knight is as firm as iron! The Queen of Roses will not be swayed by her lover,” Romon said coldly.

“Of course I know that.” Vinnie glared at Romon in dissatisfaction and continued, “My meaning is, we should maintain contact with Viscount Victor and try to get on his good side. It’s as simple as that.”

Tenis contemplated this for a long while, then smiled. “That’s quite an idea!”

Chapter 142: Elite Soldiers

“We’ll make camp here.”

Viscount Tenis wearily wiped the sweat from his chin. Vinnie, watching with a pained expression, ordered the surrounding soldiers to rest.

Viscount Tenis’s caravan had only been on the road for two days when they discovered the path had been washed out by rain, making it completely impassable for carriages. They had no choice but to abandon their luxurious and comfortable coaches and proceed on horseback. As the son of a noble, horsemanship was a mandatory skill. Tenis was a decent rider, even capable of various fancy maneuvers, but enduring the wind and sleeping under the stars for a journey of hundreds of kilometers was more than he could bear. He was, after all, a scholar, not a hardened soldier. But Tenis was an ambitious court noble, and he had personally volunteered for this diplomatic mission. Despite the hardships, he had gritted his teeth and persevered.

Twenty days later, they finally reached Wimbledon’s fief. By then, Tenis had reached his limit, and Vinnie and Knight Romon had to find a place with a water source to set up camp.

With Vinnie’s help, Tenis dismounted and sat down on a nearby rock. The viscount had lost all his noble grace, looking utterly wretched. Vinnie knelt down and gently massaged his stiff legs.

The female knight’s tenderness sent a throb through Tenis’s heart. It was as if he had returned to his childhood, when he had taken care of Vinnie just like this after she had fallen and hurt herself. But after they grew up, the two had walked different paths; Vinnie became a Knight, and he became a Spire Scholar. So many years had passed. Tenis had thought Vinnie had long forgotten him. It was only upon returning to his family that he learned she had been waiting for him all this time, but he, by his mentor’s arrangement, was already betrothed.

Now, Tenis could only fail Vinnie’s affection. He neither had the status to make a female knight his mistress nor the courage to betray his fiancée—she was the granddaughter of the Minister of State. Even his viscountship had been arranged by the Minister, though a court title wasn’t worth much.

“Vinnie, go ask the York family’s cavalry how we can find Viscount Victor,” Tenis said, subtly sending her away. He didn’t want to give her any false hope.

A short while later, Vinnie returned, fuming. “The York family’s soldiers don’t know how to find Viscount Victor either. They just said that Viscount Victor will find us. It’s ridiculous!”

Tenis’s expression darkened slightly. Victor’s fief spanned twelve thousand square kilometers, an endless expanse of dense Purple Cane forests and rolling hills, all of it desolate and uninhabited. A group of twenty-odd people entering this land was like a small pebble dropped into a pond, barely making a ripple. For them to find Victor was like searching for a needle in a haystack; by the same token, it was impossible for Victor to find them. Tenis had originally thought Duke York was merely being pretentious and that the soldiers he sent would surely know Victor’s whereabouts. But as it turned out, these soldiers truly had no idea. Tenis and the others couldn’t help but suspect Duke York was deliberately making things difficult for them.

“What is the York family playing at? Aren’t they afraid we’ll just turn around and leave?” Knight Romon walked over, his face grim, clearly displeased as well.

Tenis sighed. If they could just pack up and leave, they wouldn’t have traveled a thousand kilometers to get to Victor’s fief. In truth, the nobles in the Royal Capital couldn’t understand why Sylvia hadn’t simply annexed Victor’s fief. Although the Centaur Hills were vast, they were undeveloped wasteland. Without several years of investment, there would be no surplus production. However, the appearance of Purple Cane wine had turned Victor’s fief into the most prosperous territory in the Centaur Hills. What was baffling was that not only had the York family not annexed this territory, but they had also allowed Victor to retain his status as an independent lord. In the end, everyone could only interpret this as Sylvia’s doting affection for her lover.

Preserving Victor’s status as a lord was a declaration of the Kingdom’s suzerainty over the Centaur Hills. It had not only political significance but also practical implications; the Kingdom could employ various political measures against Victor’s fief. For instance, demanding annual tribute, levying troops, requisitioning grain, or even launching a family war. As long as they could restrain Victor’s fief, they could inevitably constrain the York family, a development the royal family was certainly happy to see.

According to custom, without a castle, Victor had no legal ownership of his fief. But the royal family had to grant Victor his investiture and reintegrate him into the kingdom’s system of lords. Therefore, Tenis had to find Victor.

“Could it be that Duke York is deliberately targeting Viscount Victor out of jealousy?” Vinnie’s eyes lit up as she whispered.

Tenis and Romon didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Duke York and Sylvia’s marriage was purely nominal. The Duke had several personal handmaidens, a fact to which Sylvia paid no mind. How could he possibly be jealous, and how would he dare? Even if he truly was jealous, it would be even more unlikely for him to sabotage Victor’s investiture ceremony. If Victor lost his status as a lord, where else could he go but back to Sylvia’s side?

“Alright, don’t overthink it. We’ll wait here. I’m sure Viscount Victor will come,” Tenis said.

“What if he can’t find us?” Vinnie pressed.

As they were speaking, the soldier on watch called out, “My lord, there’s movement.”

Everyone’s heart tightened. On their journey, they had encountered some Ant-men. Just as the rumors said, the Ant-men had threatened them but then continued to gnaw on the crops without initiating an attack. Still, no one wanted to get close to those pests, and they had given them a wide berth. Knight Romon said in a low voice, “Be on your guard! If it’s Ant-men, don’t make any rash moves. We’ll leave immediately.”

“It’s Lord Victor’s men!” one of the York family’s soldiers suddenly shouted.

Just as he finished speaking, a dozen or so soldiers walked toward them. These men were sharp-eyed, powerfully built, and moved with swift silence. They were equipped with leather armor, shields, and short spears, with longbows and quivers on their backs—all of them were seasoned warriors. The most striking among them was a warrior in a full suit of armor. To be more precise, it was the armor itself that caught the eye. Its dark, bluish-black hue made it look heavy and profound. The unique design and engravings indicated it was a custom-made suit of knight’s armor, and its craftsmanship was so fine that even Knight Romon couldn’t help but stare.

The armored warrior, flanked by his soldiers, walked up to the group. He pushed back his visor to reveal a plain face, but his eyes were as forceful as steel awls. Combined with the suit of refined iron armor, he exuded an oppressive sense of power.

“I am Narsen, Guard Captain to Lord Victor. By Lord Victor’s command, I have come to welcome the esteemed envoy,” the armored warrior said.

Tenis was somewhat surprised. The fine suit of knight’s armor had led him to believe the man was a knight tasked with protecting Victor, not a Ferocious Warrior under his command. It was no secret that Victor had recruited a Ferocious Warrior mercenary.

“I am the emissary from the Royal Capital, Viscount Tenis. Well then, Captain Narsen, where is Baron Victor now?” Tenis cleared his throat and asked with a reserved air.

“Good day, Viscount. Lord Victor awaits you at his temporary camp,” Narsen said with a bow.

“Where is this temporary camp?” Knight Romon stepped forward and asked in a low tone, feeling considerable pressure from the Ferocious Warrior standing before him.

“It’s about half a day’s journey from here,” Narsen replied in a gruff voice.

“What?! It’s still that far? The Viscount is weary from his journey. Please have your lord come here himself!” Vinnie snapped, her face frosty. Her only thought now was of Tenis’s suffering, and her intention to get on good terms with Victor had long since been cast to the winds.

“No, we will go and pay our respects to Baron Victor,” Tenis said, waving a hand to stop Vinnie’s outburst. He walked toward his horse, but as he swung himself into the saddle, a sharp pain shot through his inner thigh, causing him to sway involuntarily.

“Tenis, your leg!” Vinnie said with pained concern, rushing to steady him.

Seeing this, Narsen instantly understood that the viscount’s inner thighs had been rubbed raw from the prolonged horse riding. His expression softened. He raised his hand and snapped several nearby trees as thick as bowls, then turned and ordered, “Make a stretcher.”

Knight Romon’s pupils contracted. The casual ease with which Narsen had broken the trees meant he possessed an almost unimaginable level of strength.

Before long, a simple stretcher was ready. Vinnie helped Tenis onto it, and four soldiers lifted it, following behind Narsen.

Along the way, Knight Romon’s expression grew increasingly grave. The soldiers carrying the stretcher didn’t slow down in the slightest, and they didn’t even switch out halfway. As the journey stretched on, the cavalrymen also came to appreciate the soldiers’ fortitude, and their initial haughtiness turned to amazement.

Tenis’s eyes gleamed. Being carried on a stretcher was hardly comfortable, but it was far better than riding a horse. His thoughts, however, were on these soldiers. His own weight, plus that of the stretcher, was at least two hundred pounds, yet these soldiers carried him for such a long distance without their faces flushing or their breathing becoming labored. Their steps remained swift and steady. This stamina alone surpassed that of the elite soldiers of the Royal Capital. Tenis guessed these men must be the York family’s elite troops, sent by Sylvia to protect Victor. However, what puzzled him the most was how these men had managed to find them.

“Captain Narsen, how did you know we were camped at that location?” Tenis couldn’t help but ask.

“I was leading a patrol and just happened to run into you,” Narsen said with a grin.

“Is that so? What a coincidence,” Tenis said with a dry laugh, saying no more.

After walking for half a day, Tenis finally arrived at Victor’s temporary camp.

The camp was rather crude. There was no fence, only a few shacks, with about twenty soldiers scattered around the perimeter. As soon as Tenis got off the stretcher, he saw a young man with a few guards walking toward them.

He had handsome features, a tall and slender build, deep eyes, black hair, black eyes, and slightly pointed ears. With such obvious Moon Elf traits, there was no need to ask. He was the lord of this land—Victor Wimbledon, the Baron.

Narsen stepped forward and whispered a few words in Victor’s ear. Victor bowed to Tenis and said, “Welcome, esteemed Viscount Tenis. You must be weary from your journey. Please, rest in my camp. It would be my honor.”

“Baron Wimbledon, thank you for your gracious invitation. I am indeed in need of a good rest,” Tenis replied, returning the bow.

The two men were all smiles and pleasantries, as if the crude camp were a luxurious castle. Vinnie couldn’t help but roll her eyes, then thought to herself, “Viscount Victor really is handsome. Hmm, a tiny bit more handsome than Tenis.”

Chapter 143: Viscount

Viscount Tenis lingered in Victor’s fief for two days. Having handled all necessary matters and gathered all the information he needed, he began his journey home.

“Tenis, Viscount Victor is quite impressive. He’s poised, thoughtful, and proper—truly rare for someone his age.”

Vinnie rode on horseback alongside Tenis’s carriage. For the past two days, Victor had hosted them in his capacity as lord of the fief. Although they ate wild game and slept in shacks, he was neither haughty nor fawningly attentive. His composed and tranquil bearing was captivating. What’s more, he had thoughtfully ordered his men to build a two-wheeled carriage for Viscount Tenis to use, which greatly improved Vinnie’s impression of him.

The so-called carriage was little more than a two-wheeled flatbed cart with a seat installed on it. Though bumpy, it had the advantage of being light. Even if they encountered an obstacle, a few strong soldiers could easily lift it over, making it well-suited for the current road conditions. Such a cart could hardly be called dignified or refined, and in the past, Viscount Tenis would never have deigned to ride in one.

In the Centaur Hills, however, Tenis had seen much and changed much. Due to the Ant-man plague, the entire Centaur Hills region outside of Black Fortress Town had become desolate and uninhabited. Ruined villages and barren farmlands were everywhere. Roads washed out by the rain remained unrepaired. The bleak scenery had moved Tenis deeply; this was an experience that simply could not be understood by reading reports in the Royal Capital. Furthermore, he’d never imagined that traveling on horseback could be so arduous, nor that he would sleep so comfortably in a shack lined with leaves. And even roasted ground-rat, it turned out, was a delicacy.

“Go to the Centaur Hills! You’ll find everything is different when you return.”

Those were the words the Minister of State had said to him before his departure. Only now did Tenis understand why the Minister had urged him to secure this envoy mission. It wasn’t for political capital, but for his own personal growth!

This mission had broadened his horizons and revealed his own resilient qualities. Tenis was very satisfied with this outcome, yet he was amazed and bewildered by the change in Viscount Victor.

Victor did not know Tenis, but Tenis had seen Victor before. Back in the Royal Capital, Tenis had attended a banquet hosted by Marchioness Sophia. At the time, Victor had just been invested as a Baron and was trying hard to affect the air of a noble lord, but Tenis could see the pallor and fragility beneath the facade. It was not surprising; Victor’s origins and Bloodline destined him to be a collector’s item for a great noble, like a delicate crystal vase.

The falling-out between the Queen and Marchioness Sophia was a popular rumor in the noble circles of the Royal Capital. It was said that to gain the York family’s support, the Marchioness had given her most beloved pet to Lady Sylvia. And Sylvia did indeed dote on Victor, going so far as to place the Purple Cane wine, Snow Sugar, and coffee businesses all under his name. The rumor that Sylvia had a fondness for handsome young men had become fodder for gossip among the capital’s nobles, and many were even trying to capitalize on it. But those of Moon Elf Bloodline were exceedingly rare, and young men among them even more so. Besides Victor, the only other was Raymond Peter, the eldest son of Grand Duke Peter of the Kingdom of Borea. Duke Peter was a powerful figure and a formidable Gold Knight himself, so no one dared to get any ideas about Raymond.

In short, very few people paid Victor any mind. Even Tenis had believed Victor was still that delicate vase, a puppet of the York family. But now, Tenis no longer thought so.

Their two days together had left a deep impression on Tenis. Victor was physically strong and quick-witted. Even while living in a shack and eating wild vegetables, he possessed a natural and noble bearing. This composure and magnanimity made Tenis realize that Viscount Victor was the true master of that fiefdom. He was by no means a vase, much less a puppet!

“Viscount Victor is very strange. He’s completely different from the rumors! It’s like he’s become a different person. How could he have changed so much?” Tenis said softly.

“He is very powerful,” Knight Romon commented from the side.

Vinnie was a little surprised. Ever since meeting Narsen, Romon had been taciturn and rarely spoke. She hadn’t expected him to offer such an assessment. Vinnie’s fine eyebrows rose. “You think that Ferocious warrior is the source of Viscount Victor’s confidence? He’s just a bit strong. Even I could defeat him!”

Romon glanced coolly at Vinnie and said, “I was talking about Viscount Victor.”

“What?” Tenis and Vinnie gasped in unison.

“There’s a certain quality about Viscount Victor. It’s exactly the same as those Great Knights who manipulate the void element,” Romon said in a low voice after a moment of silence.

Tenis was stunned. Romon was different from Vinnie. He served in the Royal Capital’s Imperial Guard, had extensive combat experience, and had participated in many wars between the three kingdoms and the Sasan Empire. Therefore, he was very familiar with Silver Knights.

But Tenis couldn’t believe Romon’s judgment. He lowered his voice and asked, “Viscount Victor is a Silver-rank Great Knight? How is that possible!? He has an awakened Moon Elf Bloodline!”

“Victor is definitely not a Knight!” Romon shook his head, then added, “But my feeling can’t be wrong. When his gaze swept over me, I felt an immense pressure, just like from a Silver Knight. Vinnie, didn’t you feel it?”

“Er…” Vinnie had been too busy admiring the Elf’s delicate features to feel any pressure at all.

“The Wind Walk talent from his Elven Bloodline!” Tenis’s eyes gleamed as he chuckled softly. “So that’s it. Viscount Victor’s change stems from confidence! And here I was, wondering how the Queen of Roses could be so shallow.”

“What’s the Wind Walk talent? Can it compare to a Silver Knight?” Vinnie asked curiously.

Tenis explained, “Wind Walk is an archer’s talent. In essence, it’s similar to a Silver Knight’s elemental manipulation, with varying degrees of strength. But Wind Walk has a fatal flaw: its duration is far shorter than the time one can circulate Aura. It’s like the divine arts of a Sacred Warrior—it won’t last more than half an hour. The fact that Viscount Victor could exert pressure on Romon means his talent’s awakening is likely quite profound.”

Romon and Vinnie both breathed a sigh of relief. A Knight could circulate their Aura for at least two and a half hours, and their Aura also recovered quickly. With such an advantage, Wind Walk was nothing to worry about. They absolutely refused to believe that they couldn’t withstand an arrow’s shot while wearing armor.

“You two, do not spread word of Viscount Victor’s affairs. I believe he is a worthwhile investment…” Tenis instructed the two knights of his family in a low voice.

Most nobles in the Royal Capital secretly cultivated good relations with some of the local lords, as it was in their family’s best interest. Because of Victor’s relationship with Sylvia, Tenis had already intended to befriend him. Now that Victor had shown his own potential, Tenis saw a rare investment opportunity. Investing when the other party was at their weakest meant low cost and high returns.

Victor toyed with the seal in his hand. Forged from smelted Adamantine and gold, it was quite heavy. It represented his status as a Viscount and lord in the Kingdom of Gambia.

Viscount Tenis’s visit marked Victor’s first formal meeting with a central noble of the kingdom. He had accompanied the Viscount to investigate the Ant-man situation in his territory and re-establish the viscounty’s borders. After roughly estimating the fief’s output, Tenis, on behalf of the royal family, had conferred the title of Viscount upon Victor and then tactfully informed him that he would need to pay an annual tribute of twenty thousand Gold Sols to the kingdom this year.

Victor was stunned. Upon inquiry, he learned that a viscounty was required to hand over twenty percent of its produce and a hefty sum in annual tribute and taxes. If he failed to provide the full amount of produce, he would have to pay an annual tribute several times larger, the amount of which was determined by the fief’s size and his title.

Viscount Tenis hinted that Victor could ask the York family for help. Victor remained impassive on the surface but was inwardly furious. He was an innocent bystander caught in the crossfire. The kingdom clearly saw him as a puppet of the York family. A blade meant for the Yorks had fallen on his head instead.

With no other choice, Victor could only console himself with his new title of Viscount. A title was of little value to a court noble, but for a landed lord like Victor, it held great significance.

A Baron could invest lords, and a Viscount could invest Barons and lords. Now that Victor was a Viscount, he had the land and the title to enfeoff his own vassal lords, which was a tremendous attraction for Knights. If Victor offered enough land and a barony, he might even be able to recruit a Silver-rank Great Knight. Thus, titles and land were the foundation for a lord’s family to grow stronger.

A vassal lord might be more powerful than their liege lord, but they could never surpass them in status. If a vassal wished to raise their own title, they first had to help raise their liege lord’s title. The stronger a vassal became, the more resources they would contribute back to their liege. Even in a situation where the liege was weak and the vassal strong, this stable relationship could not be altered.

The kingdom did not collect an annual tribute from vassal lords. However, if a vassal dared to betray their liege, and the liege was powerless to punish the rebel, the kingdom would crush the traitorous vassal. This was the power of the feudal system. Over thousands of years, the liege-vassal relationship had become a deeply ingrained moral system. Even enemy nations would not dare to openly accept someone who had betrayed their liege lord.

Everyone believed Victor had obtained his viscounty because of Sylvia’s favor. Only he and the upper echelons of the York family knew that it was compensation from Sylvia after she acquired the stonebrick recipe. At the same time, it was Sylvia’s way of showing Victor that she had no intention of controlling him.

If Victor were a Baron, his rank would be too low to attract any Knights. But as a Viscount, this obstacle was gone, and he could now fully establish his own family’s power.

Unfortunately, Victor had no intention of recruiting Knights. Low-rank Knights were useless to him, while high-rank Knights were difficult to control. Moreover, because of their Bloodlines, Knights were all deeply interconnected. Recruiting them would make it easy to expose the secret of the Alchemy Tower. Of course, the main reason was that under this model, a family’s power grew far too slowly. It could take several generations to forge a cohesive family, which didn’t suit Victor’s needs. He had no interest in this model of development.

“This title is pretty useless… and I even have to pay such high protection money. Oh, right, I could recruit the lovely Nicole and give her a barony. That would be quite nice, haha, that’s what I’ll do! But what about that twenty-thousand-Gold-Sol protection fee? Do I really have to go to Sylvia?” Victor’s mind wandered as he weighed the Viscount’s seal in his hand.

“My lord! There’s a situation,” Narsen said in a low, serious voice as he approached.

Victor shot to his feet, his eyes lighting up as he asked joyfully, “Are there retreating Ant-man chiefs?”

“Yes, two Ant-man chiefs are chasing a female knight. Judging from the sigil on her armor, she appears to be a knight from the Chapman family,” Narsen said.

“How troublesome!” Victor’s brow furrowed.

The secret of the Ant-man chiefs could not yet be revealed, and the Thorium heavy crossbows also had to be kept under wraps. Should he save her, or not?

Chapter 144: Money Over Life

Victor now possessed over a hundred alchemical crows. While these excellent reconnaissance units couldn’t monitor his entire fief, they could watch several key areas. The banks of the Goldwater River at the southern end of the fief, the border with Earl Chapman’s domain to the east, the intersection with Bryat’s fief to the northeast, and the border with Eskri’s fief to the north—if an Ant-man chief passed through any of these places, Victor would know in the shortest possible time and could deploy his forces accordingly.

This advantage gave Victor the initiative on the battlefield. Nine Ant-man chiefs had already been buried deep underground. As soon as their scents were neutralized by Oleander leaves, Victor would send men to dig them up and transport them to his secret fortress to be broken down into valuable materials.

Viscount Tenis had just entered Victor’s fief when he was spotted by an alchemical crow. Similarly, when two Ant-men began hunting a female knight, Victor learned of it very quickly.

Victor climbed the tallest redwood tree on the hilltop. Standing on its highest branches, he could clearly see everything within a radius of several kilometers. Over three thousand meters away, an alchemical crow circled in the air. Below it, a knight in feminine armor was running in his direction, pursued relentlessly by two ferocious Ant-man chiefs.

Despite the great distance, Victor’s extraordinary vision allowed him to see everything clearly. The female knight was clad head-to-toe in bright silver armor. She was tall and slender, carrying a silver greatsword of astonishing size. With each stride covering seven or eight meters, she ran at a speed of eighteen meters per second. The two hideous, ugly Ant-man chiefs tailed her at the same pace, letting out sharp, piercing hisses from time to time. One of the chiefs ran on all fours like a centaur. The other was in a sorrier state; its carapace had multiple cracks, and one of its arms was missing, forcing it to run upright. It had clearly endured a fierce battle and been wounded. Looking at the female knight, her armor was spattered with green bloodstains. Without a doubt, she was the one who had seriously injured that Ant-man chief.

The female knight had to be a Silver-rank Great Knight; only a high-rank Knight could severely injure a Silver-rank Ant-man chief.

Victor’s expression was grim. The uninjured Ant-man chief could easily catch the female knight. It was deliberately slowing down, likely unwilling to take a risk while waiting for reinforcements. The green blood on the knight’s armor was like a beacon, guiding the ant swarms.

Victor observed the south for a moment. Sure enough, two alchemical crows were circling five kilometers away. They were informing Victor that two Ant-man swarms were closing in. Before long, the female knight’s path would be blocked by the swarms, and at that point, she would have no hope of survival.

Victor’s face was a mask of indecision as he hesitated.

The York family had intensified their war against the ant swarms, drawing most of the swarms from the kingdom’s western territories to Black Fortress Town. Lords suffering from the Ant-man plague were no longer sitting by and watching the swarms destroy their crops; they had begun to organize forces to eliminate scattered swarms, and the existence of Ant-man chiefs was more likely to be discovered. However, the chiefs mixed in with ordinary Ant-men, making them difficult to identify. As long as the chief wasn’t killed immediately, the swarm wouldn’t lose control. The swarm’s weakness could not be considered exposed just yet; at most, people would discover that there were Silver-rank Ant-men among them. Besides, the power dynamics in the Centaur Hills were already set. It didn’t matter if the secret of the Ant-man chiefs was exposed; there was no evidence to prove that the York family understood the swarm’s weakness anyway.

Victor wasn’t worried about exposing the secret of the Ant-man chiefs. What troubled him was that he couldn’t reveal his Thorium heavy crossbows. These powerful weapons were a vital part of Victor’s plans, and they were destined to be stained with the blood of Knights. If Victor wanted to remain securely behind the scenes, he could not expose his connection to the Thorium heavy crossbows. Yet, Victor couldn’t bear to stand by and watch this female knight be devoured by the ant swarm.

If someone holding a hunting rifle saw a tiger about to eat a person, would they shoot the tiger to save their fellow human? Victor believed most people would choose to fire the gun and save the person; it was in line with normal human values. Although a Silver-rank Ant-man was far more ferocious than a tiger, Victor was confident he could kill it with a single shot. The precondition was that it had to be an ambush, so he needed to lie in wait beforehand.

Seeing the female knight drawing closer, Victor finally made up his mind. He silently slid down from the treetop and quickly issued orders. “Shak, take your men and set up an ambush behind. When the Ant-men enter the optimal range of the Thorium heavy crossbows, shoot the injured one. Narsen, Reno, you two set up an ambush with me in front. The moment Shak’s side makes a move, I’ll shoot the uninjured one. Jack, keep the hounds under control. If I miss, have the Warhounds engage the Ant-man chiefs and the female knight. But don’t kill her. I want her alive.”

Victor decided to save the female knight, but if he had to expose the Warhounds, he would have no choice but to imprison her in the secret fortress.

After giving his orders, Victor led Narsen and Reno to a hiding spot in the bushes below. Beside him were two cocked Thorium heavy crossbows. Both the crossbows and the twin-silver crossbow bolts had been smeared with plant juice, changing their color from a dazzling bluish-white to a dark green to prevent them from reflecting light.

Victor entered the hidden state of his Golden Toad Mystic Form. His eyes were half-closed, his breathing was barely perceptible, and his Perception was greatly enhanced. He blended perfectly into his surroundings.

Soon, the female knight led the two Ant-man chiefs into Victor’s firing range. They failed to notice anything unusual in the bushes, thundering past Victor and exposing their backs to the sharp twin-silver crossbow bolts. Victor remained motionless, waiting for Shak’s team to strike first to create a pincer attack and kill both Ant-man chiefs at once.

Suddenly, the situation changed. The female knight, upon entering Shak’s firing range, unexpectedly charged directly toward the Lithe Ape militiamen hidden in the bushes.

Victor cursed inwardly. The female knight had discovered Shak and his men. She was trying to divert the disaster onto them to make her own escape. Fortunately, the Will Side of the Alchemical militia lacked emotions like ‘surprise’. They waited until the injured Ant-man chief was within three hundred meters and fired decisively. Unfortunately, the knight’s actions had exposed them. Although the Ant-man chief was injured, it was still a powerful Silver-rank monster. It reacted ahead of time, lunging to the side. The powerful Thorium crossbow bolts, like four streaks of light, flashed past the Ant-man chief’s side, missing their mark.

At the same time, Victor pulled the trigger of his Thorium heavy crossbow. The incomparably sharp twin-silver crossbow bolt, wreathed in a whisper of wind, silently crossed the fifty-meter distance and instantly pierced the back of the healthy Ant-man’s head. It was unclear what part of its brain was hit, but it immediately collapsed to the ground and began to convulse violently.

The female knight’s reaction once again took Victor by surprise. The moment the first Ant-man chief fell, she spun around and lunged at the other one. A stream of earthy yellow Aura appeared around her. She stomped her foot, a web of cracks spreading across the ground, and crossed over twenty meters in a single bound. Her Mithril greatsword slashed down at the Ant-man. Green blood splattered as the greatsword sank into the Ant-man’s tough body, nearly cleaving it in two. The fatally wounded Ant-man chief grabbed the sharp blade and threw a vicious punch at the female knight’s head. The knight met its fist with her own. Amid a dull thud, she flew backward, using the combined force to wrench the Mithril greatsword free from the Ant-man’s body. A fountain of green, oily blood erupted from the massive wound. The Ant-man chief staggered two steps before collapsing, dead.

The female knight, covered in green blood, turned toward Victor. Just as she was about to speak, she heard him yell, “Run!”

The female knight froze for a second, then the ground began to tremble. Her face changed drastically, and she chased after Victor’s retreating figure. As she rounded the hill, two Warhounds darted out, each snatching an Ant-man chief’s corpse before scattering in different directions.

Victor and his men retreated quickly, with the female knight following close behind. After running a few hundred meters, Victor turned and shouted angrily, “Why aren’t you running in a different direction?! Are you trying to get us all killed?”

The female knight was covered in the green blood of an Ant-man chief. Although Victor had made some arrangements, the scent of a chief’s blood was far more potent than that of an ordinary Ant-man and would attract numerous swarms to pursue them.

Ant-men were fast runners, and their chiefs were even faster. Fortunately, the chiefs wouldn’t abandon their swarms during a pursuit, so the ordinary Ant-men would slow them down. With her Silver-rank strength, the female knight should have been perfectly capable of shaking off the swarm. Victor, though fast, had average stamina. If they kept running like this, they would be caught sooner or later. The female knight’s actions were despicable, like deliberately luring a monster into a group of people. Victor couldn’t help but feel a surge of rage.

“My lord,” Narsen said as he ran, “I don’t think she can keep going.”

Only then did Victor notice that the female knight’s steps were ragged and her breathing was labored. Her Aura was clearly depleted, and her stamina was reaching its limit. Victor instantly understood why she was sticking to them: she no longer had the ability to escape on her own.

“Drop your armor and sword if you don’t want to die,” Victor shouted as a reminder.

Not only was the female knight’s gear covered in the Ant-man chief’s blood, but it was also extremely heavy. When fleeing for your life, dropping such burdens was the smart thing to do. However, her response once again surprised Victor.

“Never!” The female knight’s voice was a bit hoarse, yet it carried an unshakable will.

Seeing the female knight clutch her greatsword even tighter, Victor asked, exasperated, “Is your equipment more important than your life?”

“Mithril equipment is worth fighting for.” The female knight’s reply was firm and resolute—typical of the Chapman family style.

Victor wasted no more words and focused on running. After five kilometers, Narsen whispered another reminder, “My lord, I think she’s at her limit.”

Even without turning around, Victor could hear the female knight’s heavy panting. As exhausted as she was, she still hadn’t dropped that Mithril greatsword.

“Can’t you just drop the sword?” Victor couldn’t help but shout.

“Hah… this is… hah… this is forged from Mithril and Adamantine…” the female knight said between gasps.

“Ant-men don’t eat metal! You can come back for it later,” Victor advised patiently.

“Hah… Don’t try to fool me! Ant-men use weapons!”

“You’re going to get caught by the swarm.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“Then why are you following us?!”

The female knight’s “money over life” attitude was truly driving Victor insane, but he still couldn’t bear to watch her die just like that.

“Alright! There’s a lake up ahead with a small island in the middle. Throw your gear into the lake, wash the blood off yourself while you’re at it, then swim to the island to rest. Ant-men can’t swim, so they definitely won’t be able to get your equipment. We’ll cover you first, then meet you on the island.”

“Okay,” the female knight said with delight, her running speed even picking up a little.

Watching the female knight run along the Blackwater River toward Flatlake Village, Victor said to Narsen, “Get the dog cart. We’re going back to the camp!”

“My lord, didn’t we agree to meet her on the island in the lake?” Narsen asked foolishly.

“I don’t give a damn if she dies!”

Chapter 145: A Frail, Great Trouble

The next day at noon, Victor was waiting for lunch in the temporary camp.

A fine, white broth bubbled in a round-bellied, wide-mouthed clay pot. A few pork bones and assorted wild mushrooms and vegetables occasionally surfaced, and the rich, tantalizing aroma made one’s mouth water. Victor ladled a bowl for himself. It was incredibly savory, though just a little bland.

It had been over thirty days since Victor returned to his viscounty from Black Fortress Town, and he had been living out of a camp all the while. Camping was fun, but doing it every day grew tiresome. In truth, the alchemical militia could build a simple wooden house in half a day if Victor wished it, but they couldn’t conjure basic living supplies out of thin air—like salt, for instance.

Salt was inexpensive, but indispensable. Victor had gathered what supplies had been left behind in his territory, including some salt. But with his alchemical humans now numbering over seven hundred, that small supply had long since been all but consumed.

The inland kingdom’s salt came primarily from salt mines, but Victor’s viscounty, unfortunately, had none, not even in its mountain regions. Besides salt, Victor also lacked cloth, leather, fish glue, and various other essential goods. Some of these could be produced locally, but others had to be purchased from outside.

What worried Victor was that after the Ant-man plague ended, the kingdom would inevitably restrict the flow of various goods into the Centaur Hills as a way to exert the central authority’s influence over the western lords. This meant Victor would no longer be able to acquire sufficient living supplies from the York family, because the York family would also be mired in a predicament of resource scarcity.

It was precisely because of this that Sylvia believed Sophia’s merchant association would face the difficulty of covert suppression from the kingdom. Giving Sophia the agency for Purple Cane wine was akin to handing her a protective talisman, but it would also undoubtedly place Sophia at odds with the major merchant associations of the Borrey United Kingdom, as the emergence of Purple Cane wine had shattered their monopoly on alcohol.

In short, Victor had to plan ahead and find a new source of supplies. Otherwise, he too would have his throat squeezed by the kingdom. Without enough basic goods, he couldn’t attract a sufficient population. And if a viscounty lacked people, could it still be called a viscounty? The annual tribute alone would be enough to bleed him dry.

“My lord, the Fishmen are at it with the Ant-man swarms again. The swarms that escaped are heading for the riverbank,” Narsen said as he walked over, grabbing a pork bone and gnawing on it, his mouth glistening with grease.

Victor smiled slightly. He had cleverly exploited the traits of the Fishmen and the Ant-men, maneuvering the swarms to provoke the Fishmen into attacking the Ant-men on the riverbank. As the conflict between the two types of monsters intensified, the Ant-man swarms no longer had time to destroy the Purple Cane forest. So far, the number of Ant-men in the viscounty had been reduced to just over three thousand.

“The kingdom’s envoy has already left, so there’s no need to wait for reinforcements from the York family. We must completely eradicate the Ant-man swarms within a month. Let’s get Lilia and the others back to the viscounty sooner to resume production and rebuild their homes,” Victor said to Narsen.

After persistent practice, Victor’s Wind Walk talent had improved by leaps and bounds. As long as the tactics were properly arranged, killing a Silver-rank Ant-man chief would be no trouble at all.

“That’s the best news I’ve heard! I’m starting to miss them,” Narsen said with a wide grin.

Victor teased him, “You just miss Linda, don’t you?”

Narsen’s weathered face flushed red. He had been living in the wilderness for a full four months, and his new, taciturn companions were truly dull. They never initiated conversation and only answered when asked a direct question. If not for his devotion to his training, Narsen would have succumbed to the loneliness long ago.

“Are the bodies of those two Ant-man chiefs properly buried?” Victor asked, changing the subject.

“Only the intact one is buried. The other one bled too much, and the swarms found it,” Narsen replied with a regretful shake of his head. The corpse of a Silver-rank monster was extremely valuable; losing one was a painful blow, even if they had already buried more than a dozen Ant-man chiefs.

Victor then asked, “Has the female knight from the Chapman family left yet?”

“The latest report says she’s still on the island in the lake. My lord, should we send her some food?” Narsen asked. Having gone through this Ant-man plague, he had developed a bit of a rapport with the Chapman family’s knights. He also felt a twinge of guilt, since he was the one who had led the Ant-men into the Chapman territory in the first place.

Victor, however, had praised Narsen for his actions—it was how the Purple Cane forest had been saved. In any case, the Ant-men would have paid the Chapman family a visit even after devouring all the Purple Cane.

“Don’t worry about her. She’s a Great Knight, after all. It’s not our place to be concerned.”

Yesterday’s events had been a minor interlude. The fact that Victor had gone to her for reinforcements was the extent of his obligation. He hadn’t minded the female knight following him, but her heading in Shak’s direction had displeased him greatly. Moreover, because the Ant-man swarm had been in hot pursuit, Victor believed the female knight hadn’t discovered the secret of the thorium heavy crossbows. Since she was now safe, there was no need to invite more trouble.

Narsen nodded silently. He felt Victor was right. A wolf worrying about a tiger’s food—what could be more ridiculous?

Just as they were speaking, Shak came forward to report, “My lord, someone is approaching. It’s that female knight.”

Outside the camp, Victor saw the female knight from the Chapman family. She was barefoot, her fine, damp linen undertunic clinging tightly to her body, revealing her stunning features and figure in full.

She had short, ear-length black hair, exquisite features, and amber eyes. Her eyes were long and narrow, slanting upwards at the corners—the most alluring of phoenix eyes. Her lips were slightly full, adding to her sensuality. Her figure was tall and slender, with a narrow waist and full hips, boasting a pair of stunningly long, straight legs. Her honey-toned skin was smooth and delicate. Her phoenix eyes held a commanding air, her expression was icy, and she walked with a straight back, radiating power. Despite her revealing state, she showed no sign of coyness, her proud and confident demeanor defining a fierce, cold beauty.

Sultry and fiery, alluring and aloof, strong yet graceful—all these qualities blended together, giving the female knight a peculiar charm. Victor’s mouth went dry, and he felt a desperate need for a sip of water to wet his throat.

“Gulp.”

Beside him, Narsen’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he audibly swallowed. Victor was mortified. Sure enough, he heard the female knight say, “Lord Baron, your retainer is staring at a noble lady like that. Don’t you find it rather ill-mannered?”

The female knight’s slightly raspy voice had a sensual quality, yet the meaning behind her words struck Victor as odd. It was improper for his retainer to stare, but it was fine for him to do so?

“My beautiful lady, when faced with a Great Knight whose intentions are unclear, my retainer can stare as much as he pleases! Wouldn’t you agree?” Victor said with a ghost of a smile.

Narsen, who had been flustered just a moment ago, stiffened. He placed both hands on the handle of his axe. The surrounding alchemical militia had been staring coldly at the unarmed female knight from the very beginning, their spears and arrows aimed at her vitals. The slightest strange move from her would be met with a merciless attack.

Ignoring the murderous aura rising around her, the female knight strode coolly toward the camp. “I’m hungry.”

Victor watched, dumbfounded, as the female knight crossed her breathtakingly long legs, sat before the clay pot, grabbed a pork bone, and began to wolf it down.

After gnawing all the meat off the bone, the female knight spoke again. “Baron, find me a set of clothes. I doubt you have anything new here, so old ones will do. But none worn by those retainers. Something you’ve worn is acceptable.”

“Lady, if you are a noble, please state your identity first. I am under no obligation to prepare clothes for a person of unknown status. And I am a Viscount,” Victor said, so angry he began to laugh. This woman was unbelievably arrogant, acting as if she owned the place.

“I am Gillian Chapman. A Silver-rank Great Knight, eldest daughter of Earl Chapman, and heir to the Chapman family. As a nobleman, upon seeing a helpless lady so scantily clad, shouldn’t you extend a helping hand? Where is your chivalry? My Lord Viscount,” Gillian said mockingly.

Helpless? A Silver Great Knight was actually calling herself a helpless lady? Victor suspected he had either misheard or Gillian was insulting his intelligence. With his extraordinary hearing and the X-3’s enhanced memory, Victor was certain it was the latter. He retorted with sarcasm, “Miss Gillian, I can give you clothes. I can also dispatch guards to escort you from my territory. I clearly do not lack for chivalry. Wouldn’t you agree? My dear, helpless Great Knight.”

Crack!

Gillian snapped the hard pork bone, tilted her head back, and sucked the marrow into her mouth. Her phoenix eyes grew hazy, her full, sensual lips closing around the bone. As her long neck arched back, her firm, round breasts strained against the fabric, threatening to burst free. Victor’s eye twitched. He could clearly see two hard points under the thin undertunic.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Tossing the hollow bone to the ground, the Great Knight said lazily, “I’m going to take a nap now. Lord Viscount, I must remind you, I am not yet married. If you were to touch me, you would have to take responsibility.”

With that, Gillian curled up on the ground, her eyes shut tight, her face alternating between flushed and pale. This sudden development startled Victor.

At Victor’s signal, Shak stepped forward to examine the unconscious female knight. “My lord, she’s passed out. It doesn’t look good.”

Victor walked over and touched Gillian’s smooth forehead. His hand felt an alarming sequence of icy cold and then blistering heat.

Watching the trembling female knight, Victor thought to himself, “So, she really is a helpless Great Knight.”

Chapter 146: Unwilling to Leave

“Shak, what do you think? Is she poisoned or just sick?”

“My lord, she’s definitely not poisoned. As for whether she’s sick, I do not know.”

Victor always had the misconception that the Alchemical Humans were omnipotent, but facts proved that they were clueless about matters outside the Will Side. Although they possessed the ability to learn, this ability was no stronger than that of an ordinary person. Poison, however, was a category the Alchemical Militia were well-versed in. As for sickness… would a Great Knight who could communicate with the world within and without even have such a problem?

Since Shak could confirm it wasn’t poison, Victor breathed a sigh of relief. A Great Knight swims out of a lake, finds his camp, demands food and clothes, and even warns him not to take advantage of her before passing out. All of this indicated that she was aware of her own condition. In that case, her life probably wasn’t in danger.

“My lord, I’ve seen this condition before. It should be a side effect of overusing one’s Aura,” Narsen said in a low voice, then explained, “As you know, the War Bear Mercenaries were once hired by the Dodor Kingdom to raid the Sassans’ logistics granaries. One time, after completing a contract, we encountered an unconscious Dodor Knight while retreating. Aiding a Dodor Knight was very risky; the Sasan knights would have killed us all before capturing him. But risk meant reward, so in the end, we took that Knight with us. His condition at the time was exactly like Miss Chapman’s.”

“And then?” Victor asked quickly.

“After that, we took a huge detour, traveling by night and resting by day, and successfully evaded the Sasan pursuit. We delivered the Knight safely back to the Dodor Kingdom. To our surprise, that Knight turned out to be a Silver Knight of the Quinn family. The Quinn family gave us a generous reward—not only a bounty of eight thousand Gold Sol, but they also replaced all of our equipment. Most importantly, we established a connection with the Quinn family. With this relationship, we took on many high-quality missions. The mercenary company reached its peak, with over one hundred combat personnel and more than two hundred logistics support staff,” Narsen said with a triumphant air.

Victor fell silent for a moment, then patted Narsen’s shoulder and said sincerely, “Narsen, I guarantee you will achieve even greater glory in the future. But what I’m asking is, what were the Great Knight’s symptoms afterward? How long was he unconscious? Was he in any danger? Did his strength decline?”

“Ah? Oh, at first, he was also alternating between hot and cold. He only woke up after half a day. The Quinn Knight told us he had encountered many enemies and had only narrowly escaped by fighting with all his might. Due to overusing his Aura, he needed to eat a lot and get plenty of rest,” Narsen quickly answered.

“So did his Aura recover?” Victor asked again.

Narsen thought hard for a moment before saying with certainty, “We traveled for a full fourteen days, and his Aura didn’t recover at all during that time. However, when we met again, his Aura had already returned. If I recall correctly, it was the third day after he returned to his family.”

Now Victor understood why the great lady of the Chapman family was in such a sorry state, running to his camp before her clothes were even dry. When she counter-attacked and killed the Ant-man Chief, her Aura was already on the verge of depletion. The side effects of forcibly circulating it meant she needed someone to protect her. In the end, a weakened Gillian was left on the island in the lake by Victor. Before she passed out, she had no choice but to seek Victor’s protection. Perhaps she had noticed the Alchemical Militia sent to monitor her and followed their tracks to find this place. The only thing Gillian didn’t know was that Victor was aware of her every move on the island; even if she had fainted there, Victor would have rescued her.

Gillian had very beautiful eyelashes. Curled up on the ground, she slept like a baby, looking pure and frail, a stark contrast to the arrogant air she had when she first arrived. Victor frowned. The living, breathing beauty before him was the sexiest, most alluring woman he had ever seen, but her personality was far from pleasant. She had clearly come seeking protection, yet she acted as if she were here to collect a debt.

As much as Victor disliked her, he couldn’t just leave her sleeping on the ground. Magnanimously, he picked up the female knight, went into a shack, and after settling her down, Victor came out and ordered, “Shak, have your men build a wooden cabin.”

At dusk, Gillian was awakened by the rich aroma of roasted meat. Opening her eyes, she found herself on a bed. Beneath the felt blanket that served as a sheet were many unknown leaves, making it very fluffy and soft. Gillian then looked around the room. The log walls and roof gave off a fragrant scent; it was clearly a newly built cabin. Sitting up in bed, she noticed she was wearing a dress. The material was fine linen, commonly used by nobles, but the dress was very short, its hem not even reaching her knees. Gillian’s expression changed, and she quickly checked her body. Only after confirming that nothing was amiss did she let out a huge sigh of relief.

Gillian sat on the edge of the bed, lost in thought. Her long, slender eyebrows would sometimes furrow, sometimes stand up like swords, and sometimes relax. After sitting for a moment, she looked down and saw a pair of strangely shaped shoes under the bed.

The shoes seemed to be made of some kind of lizard skin, with a half-high heel and very long uppers that almost reached her knees. Gillian put on the shoes and found they fit perfectly. After taking a few steps to get used to them, she pushed open the door and walked out.

Victor was sitting by the campfire. When he saw Gillian walk out of the cabin, his eyes immediately lit up.

With her gorgeous features, frosty demeanor, impressive bust, and long, straight, beautiful legs, all paired with a cinched short dress and half-high heeled thigh-high boots, Gillian had the full aura of a queen.

Short skirts and half-high heels existed in the human kingdoms. Short skirts were generally clothing for common women, who would wear trousers underneath, while noblewomen wore long dresses paired with crystal shoes. The combination of a long-boot and a short skirt was appearing for the first time in this world. The sliver of smooth thigh revealed between the skirt and the boots made Gillian look exceptionally sexy.

It had to be said, this outfit suited Gillian’s temperament perfectly. Victor was very pleased with his little prank.

Gillian strode to the campfire on her two breathtakingly long legs and, without any ceremony, picked up the roasted venison and began to eat. After finishing the meat and drinking a glass of Purple Cane wine, she said to Victor, “Did you change my clothes?”

“My handmaiden isn’t here, and I couldn’t just watch you sleep in a filthy昏睡? I could only do it myself.” Victor shrugged, affecting a nonchalant air as he silently slid five meters away.

Gillian’s face remained cold, but the ferocity in her eyes quickly vanished. If Victor had dared to let a lowborn male retainer touch her body, Gillian would have fought him to the death.

Noblewomen in the human kingdoms didn’t have a concept of chastity as a moral virtue, but they did have an unbreakable taboo: a lowborn man could not touch a highborn woman. Once, a kingdom’s princess was rescued by a common farmer. The King first granted the farmer a hereditary lordship, then ordered him to commit suicide to preserve the princess’s reputation.

Victor was well aware of the nobles’ taboos. Although a male noble bathing and changing the clothes of an unmarried noblewoman would also draw criticism, so long as it was within the scope of providing Aid, not only would it not be condemned, it would be spun into a much-admired story. Therefore, Victor had quite happily completed the task and, based on Gillian’s figure, had ordered the Alchemical Militia to craft the short skirt and thigh-high boots.

“You gave me this short skirt that only a peasant woman would wear. Are you trying to humiliate me? Viscount, where is your gentlemanly conduct?” Gillian said angrily.

“Miss Chapman, we don’t have enough cloth here, and my clothes wouldn’t suit your figure,” Victor said, once again drifting another five meters away while subtly complimenting the female knight’s figure.

Gillian’s expression softened slightly, but seeing Victor had already retreated more than ten meters away, she said mockingly, “As a Silver-rank archer, to be afraid of a noble lady who can’t even use her Aura… your courage truly surprises me.”

A thought stirred in Victor’s mind. “Miss Chapman, how did you know I’m a Silver-rank archer?” he asked.

“An ordinary person can’t kill a Silver-rank monster with a military heavy crossbow, unlike those men of yours. I saw it clearly. The crossbow bolt you shot was obviously surrounded by the wind element. Otherwise, even with a sneak attack, you couldn’t have killed that Ant-man. That’s your Wind Walk talent, isn’t it? Viscount Wimbledon,” Gillian said dismissively.

Ignoring Gillian’s scornful gaze, Victor breathed a sigh of relief inwardly. The construction of the Thorium heavy crossbow was similar to a military one, and after being coated with green plant juice, it was difficult to tell them apart by appearance. It wasn’t surprising that Gillian had this misconception.

“Miss Chapman, if you hadn’t deliberately run towards my soldiers, they might not have been unable to kill that Ant-man. Also, since you knew it was a Silver-rank monster, why did you expose my soldiers? Don’t you think such behavior is despicable?” Victor demanded, his face cold.

“In that situation, let alone a few common soldiers, even if it were the Pope, I would have run towards him. If it were you, what would you have chosen?”

Faced with Miss Chapman’s righteous retort, Victor was speechless. When one’s life was on the line, faced with a lifeline, who could possibly care about the safety of others? Even if someone could, they would have to be a sage who could overcome the instinct for survival. Victor knew he wasn’t capable of that.

“I saved your life and offered you shelter and food. According to custom, I have the right to ask your family for a reward.”

Gillian cut Victor off, saying coldly, “I already gave you your reward; you’re the one who gave it up. If you regret it, I can give you another chance. I am still pure.”

Victor’s heart skipped a beat, but then he remembered Gillian’s elemental stats—fifteen points in Physique, fifteen in Spirit, fifteen in Perception, and fifteen in Life. He suppressed the lustful thoughts in his heart and said righteously, “Miss Chapman, as an unmarried lady, saying such things will damage your reputation. Let’s find another way for you to repay me, for example—”

“Fine, you’re the one who gave it up,” a triumphant smile touched the corners of Gillian’s lips.

Victor let out a long breath, and once the stuffiness in his chest had dissipated, he said in a low voice, “I will dispatch men to escort you back to the Chapman territory.”

“I’m not leaving!” Gillian refused Victor’s arrangement in no uncertain terms.

“That won’t do. I’ve already sent a messenger to Earl Chapman to inform him of your situation.” Victor’s face hardened. He just wanted to send this trouble away so she wouldn’t interfere with his plan to clear out the ant nest.

“My armor and longsword are still in your territory. I will not leave until I get them back,” Gillian said, shaking her head. “Alternatively, you can compensate me with eighty thousand Gold Sol. That equipment was forged from Adamantine and Mithril…”

Victor stood up, gave an elegant bow, and said, “Miss Chapman, you are welcome as a guest in my domain. If you have eaten your fill, please return to your cabin to rest. I guarantee you will not be disturbed.”

Chapter 147: Mithril Diplomacy

Gillian had been stuck in Victor’s temporary camp for seven days.

All in all, Gillian was faring quite well. Victor had expanded the wooden cabin for her, crafted a few simple pieces of furniture, and even found a broken bronze mirror. Though these things were crude and simple, they were enough to showcase Victor’s gentlemanly conduct under the circumstances. Most importantly, Victor had procured a set of modified leather armor for her, and Gillian was finally able to change out of that short skirt that had made her so uncomfortable. Recalling the regretful look in Victor’s eyes when she had changed into the leather armor, Gillian felt a secret sense of triumph.

Gillian didn’t care whether she slept in a shack or a wooden cabin; she was no delicate noble lady. As the first heir of Earl Chepman and a powerful Silver Knight, Victor had, within his means, given her courteous treatment befitting her status. That was the real reason for Gillian’s satisfaction. Furthermore, Victor had not restricted her freedom. The real things keeping Gillian tethered were the armor and longsword she had thrown into the lake.

“You’re Shak, right? When is your lord going to retrieve my equipment?” Having finished a whole plate of wild fruit, Gillian propped her long legs up on the table and asked lazily.

“I don’t know,” Shak answered indifferently.

Gillian felt a wave of stuffiness. She asked the same question many times every day, and each time she received the same answer.

A little over ten days ago, Gillian had just broken through to the Silver-rank, becoming the fourth Great Knight in her family. Donning the Mithril armor that Earl Chepman had long prepared for her, Gillian couldn’t wait to find a few Ant-men to test her sword on. She encountered a lone Ant-man, but little did she expect it to be a Silver-rank monster. After a fierce battle, the unarmed Silver-rank Ant-man was heavily wounded by Gillian and fled toward Victor’s fief. Gillian gave chase, only to encounter another Silver-rank Ant-man. This time, it was Gillian’s turn to flee for her life. In the end, she was fortunate enough to be rescued by Victor, which led to the current situation.

What frustrated Gillian was that she had barely had a chance to warm up her beloved armor and longsword before they were thrown into a lake. She would absolutely not leave until they were recovered. But she also knew that Victor wasn’t unwilling to help her retrieve her equipment; salvaging the heavy armor and Mithril longsword from the lake was no simple task. It required a boat and a twenty-meter-long rope. Most critically, someone had to be able to dive to the bottom of the murky lake, find the equipment, and tie it up—something only a Knight could do. Victor did not have these resources.

Speaking of which, Gillian had only herself to blame. Worried that the Silver-rank Ant-men would find her equipment, she had forced her depleted Aura to hurl the items far into the lake. Not only did this create trouble for the retrieval, but she herself had fallen into a weakened state from overusing her Aura. It would take at least ten-odd days for her to recover.

Victor was also frustrated. With the Chepman family’s young lady refusing to leave, he had to postpone his plans to clear out the Ant-men. That was nothing; the operation to hunt Ant-man chiefs had also been forced to a halt, and two Ant-man chiefs had already slipped away from his fief under his very nose. This pained Victor terribly. Although Gillian was a stunning beauty, her looks clearly couldn’t compare to the value of a Silver Ant-man.

So, when Victor saw Gillian resting her two long legs on the dining table, he said peevishly, “Miss Chepman, please mind your manners. This is not your bedroom.”

Glancing sideways at the newly returned Victor, Gillian said coolly, “You didn’t say that when I was wearing a short skirt.”

“We weren’t well acquainted back then. I would never be so rude as to correct a strange lady’s etiquette. That is a nobleman’s basic refinement,” Victor said sincerely, straightening his collar.

“Alright, enough of this nonsense. Get my equipment back, and I’ll let you see me naked if you want,” Gillian said boldly, not caring in the least about Victor’s thick skin.

I’ve already seen and touched, Victor grumbled inwardly. Aloud, he said, “The raft is ready. My men are making hemp ropes. We can start the retrieval in another three days. The question now is, when will you have recovered?”

“At least five more days,” Gillian said, annoyed.

Victor smiled and nodded. He could retrieve the equipment whenever he wanted, but the scent of the Ant-man chief on it needed to soak in the lake for at least ten days to dissipate. Otherwise, even if it were retrieved, the Ant-man swarm would still be able to track it. Never mind that Gillian’s strength was greatly diminished; even at her peak, she wouldn’t be able to return to Earl Chepman’s domain safely with the equipment. Victor had no desire to save her a second time.

Victor decided to let the young lady of the Chepman family hang around for a few more days. Although three to five Ant-man chiefs would slip through his fingers, the power that Gillian represented was worth it.

“Miss Chepman, let’s talk about something else,” Victor said with an elegant smile.

Gillian sat up straight, her guard up. “What do you want to talk about? You saved me, but you already gave up your reward.”

Hearing this, Victor nearly choked on his own saliva. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and said, “Miss Chepman, your beauty is indeed captivating, but I would not take advantage of someone in their time of need.”

“Good. What do you want to talk about then?” Gillian relaxed and said nonchalantly.

“You’ve been secretly mining my Mithril,” Victor said in a low voice, tapping the table.

Like a cat with its fur on end, Gillian narrowed her beautiful, almond-shaped eyes, her gaze as cold as a sword. However, Victor’s black eyes were as deep and unfathomable as the night sky. After a moment of staring, she deflated. “I don’t deny it. But during this Ant-man plague, my Chepman family protected your Purple Cane forest. Do you admit that?”

Victor was silent for a moment before nodding. “Although I find that statement quite unpleasant, it is a fact.”

Gillian raised a shapely eyebrow. She had expected Victor to refute her and was prepared to debate him, though her confidence was lacking and she was ready to be shameless if need be. She never expected Victor to actually acknowledge her claim. The young lord’s magnanimity surprised Gillian, and she couldn’t help but study him for a few extra moments.

Victor, however, teased her, “My beautiful lady, you’re making things difficult for me by looking at me like that. I already have a wife.”

“What a pity.”

Gillian licked her sensual lips, a look of regret on her beautiful face. In the marital moral system of the human nobility, noblewomen were encouraged to maintain their purity before marriage. After giving birth to an heir for her husband, she could have a relatively free private life. This was mainly because the first child of a noblewoman often had the most outstanding Bloodline talent, and noble girls in the bloom of first love were more easily tempted. But Gillian was not in this category. As the heir to an Earldom, her partner could only be chosen from the sons of minor families. As a great noble and a Great Knight, Gillian could have as many lovers as she pleased; it was just that she was absorbed in the growth of power and wealth and had little interest in carnal desire.

Victor was Gillian’s ideal marriage partner: his family was weak, his bloodline noble, he was young and handsome, and his lifespan was long. The only drawback was the difficulty in procreation, but they could always have an heir if they tried a few more times. Earl Chepman had once hoped to take Victor in when he was at a dead end, arrange a new identity for him, and then make him Gillian’s partner. However, no one had expected Sophia and Sylvia to stage a dazzling grand show, resolving Victor’s crisis on its own. Earl Chepman had even expressed his regret over it.

Gillian wouldn’t have been opposed to something happening with Victor, but with Sylvia as his backer, he was no longer someone others could covet, not to mention he was now a fearsome Silver-rank archer. Gillian had a strong personality, but she didn’t want to become Sylvia’s rival in love.

If Victor knew what Gillian was thinking about him, he would surely fly into a rage from shame and humiliation, and might even have to show her what a real man was. But Victor did not have mind-reading powers; right now, he just wanted to have a proper talk with the Chepman family’s young lady.

“I am definitely taking the Mithril mine back. Now, I just want to know, does your Chepman family still want Mithril?”

Gillian first nodded in acknowledgment, but after hearing the second half of Victor’s sentence, her eyes went wide. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve made myself clear. If the Chepman family still needs Mithril, I can sell it to you,” Victor said with a light laugh.

Gillian looked directly into Victor’s eyes and asked in a low voice, “Is this Lady Rose’s idea?”

“What does she have to do with this? Besides our two families, no one knows about the Mithril mine,” Victor said, displeased.

“You dare betray the Queen of Roses!?” Gillian pointed at Victor’s nose, saying in shock.

Victor snorted coldly. “Miss Chepman, this is my fief, and I am no vassal of the York family! Besides, Sylvia is far more magnanimous than you think. The fact that she secured a Viscount title for me is proof enough.”

“What? You can’t be that naive! And to think my father thought you were a clever young lord,” Gillian said.

“Yes, you’re a Viscount now, and the bottleneck to your development has been opened. But the brand on you marks you as a lord of the York family’s faction. Even if Knights pledge allegiance to you, they’re coming because of the York family. Moreover, your main source of income, Purple Cane wine, is completely in the hands of the Yorks. Your fief is also within the York family’s sphere of influence. If the York family completely digests the Centaur Hills and eventually establishes a Dukedom or a Kingdom, no matter how developed you make your fief, you will inevitably become a part of the York Dukedom. Just like the relationship between a lord and a king.”

Victor was so amused he laughed. He admitted that Gillian had a point; this was the price of picking a side. But he was no longer the watchdog he once was. Just as Sylvia had said, a lord needed power and must choose a faction. Being a lord for the Auguste family was no different from being a lord for the York family. However, the Queen was malicious toward him, and the Grand Duke’s confidant was his mortal enemy. In comparison, the York family shared the Centaur Hills with him, along with common interests and enemies. This was the basis for their cooperation. Victor even wanted to help the York family become stronger, but he had no intention of blindly following them. His potential far exceeded that of any family, and his sights were no longer limited to a single fief or a kingdom, but the entire domain of humanity.

“So what? Forget my fief—even your Chepman family will benefit from the York family. For now, just tell me, do you want the Mithril or not?” Victor asked with a smile.

Looking at Victor’s confident smile, Gillian was somewhat dazzled. She quickly glanced at the emotionless guards standing around them, looking pensive. Finally, she said, “What are the terms?”

“I hear your Chepman family has three salt mines, one high-quality Adamantine mine, and rich sisal and flax resources. My terms are simple: I will sell you Mithril at market price, and likewise, you will sell your resources to me at market price,” Victor said.

“That’s not possible. The royal family won’t be happy if we sell those materials,” Gillian said, shaking her head.

This was Victor’s biggest worry. The game between the kingdom’s central power and its border domains was an open secret. As part of the southern lords’ faction, the Chepman family was naturally unwilling to offend their liege lord. He pondered for a moment, then said, “The kingdom can’t stop freemen from trading, can they?”

“You mean… a good idea! But there’s another problem. We’re taking a huge risk to trade with you, so buying Mithril at market price is out of the question. At the same time, our materials must be sold at a twenty percent markup over the market price.”

Victor sneered. The Chepman family was truly greedy. Mithril was a priceless commodity that money couldn’t always buy. With limited land, equipment with elemental affinity like Mithril was a crucial resource for attracting Knights.

“The Chepman family is known for its frugality. But after operating for hundreds of years, the wealth you’ve accumulated is less than that of many families a century old. Do you know why?” Victor didn’t wait for Gillian’s reply before continuing, “If you try to take advantage of every situation, you’ll end up too poor to have any friends.”

Gillian’s eyebrows shot up, and she glared fiercely at Victor. In the end, however, she compromised. “Alright, we’ll do it your way.”

Victor nodded in satisfaction. “Before we trade, you have to pay me back for the Mithril you stole before, at a discounted price. It’s worth about one hundred and fifty thousand Gold Sols. Since we’re so familiar with each other, I’ll just charge you one hundred thousand Gold Sols.”

“What?! One hundred thousand Gold Sols! I don’t have the money! If you want a person, you can have one. I’m right here…”

Chapter 148: Northward and Eastward Advance

Flatlake was the largest lake in Victor’s fief. When there was no wind, its six-thousand-mu surface was as smooth as a mirror, a breathtaking sight. During the Season of Wind, fish were plump and crabs were robust. The lake’s surface shimmered, and large fish, several feet long, would occasionally leap from the water. Flocks of water birds played and hunted here. In this season, Flatlake presented a different kind of bountiful scenery.

Victor stood on the shore, gazing out at the view. Not only was the scenery beautiful, but this was also the most fertile land in his domain. More than twenty thousand mu of farmland could be cultivated around the lake, yielding enough grain each year to feed several thousand people with half to spare. The lake teemed with fish and prawns, including the delicious white-bellied-fin fish, the several-feet-long black-scale fish, the plump and juicy bent-mouth loach, enormous marsh crabs, and succulent freshwater prawns. Such abundant aquatic life made Flatlake a natural granary. Had Bayr not occupied this area first, Victor would have chosen to establish his settlement here.

However, the biggest problem with the Flatlake area was that it was indefensible. If Victor had indeed established a settlement here, he would have been the one overrun by the Ant-men. His gaze swept over the ruins of Flatlake Village, and he felt a wave of emotion. Narsen’s maneuver to shake off the ant swarm had sent over six hundred villagers of Flatlake to their doom, devoured by the Ant-men. In modern society, it would have been an earth-shattering tragedy, yet Narsen was completely indifferent. When passing the ruins, he had even spat on the ground.

Victor, too, was merely feeling a fleeting sentiment. In the beginning, he could have simply crushed Flatlake Village, killed all who resisted, and the rest would have naturally submitted to him. But Victor had wanted to avoid needless slaughter and, against the advice of Edwen and Bruce, had tried to use a scheme to resolve the issue. Thinking back on it now, he had been foolishly naive.

Victor felt no sympathy for the villagers who had perished. On the surface, the people of Flatlake Village had been deceived by Bayr, but that wasn’t the whole truth. Most of them were former subjects from the three eastern provinces; they couldn’t have been ignorant of the consequences of challenging a lord’s authority. Yet they had not chosen to leave Bayr and join Hill Camp. In the end, it was because they looked down on Victor. They used Bayr as a shield to live an autonomous life. As a result, most of those who followed Victor survived, while they were all wiped out. Reality was just that—everyone had to be responsible for their own fate. The deaths of blind followers were not to be mourned.

“What a pity. It’s the harvest season, yet over five thousand mu of crops here have been devoured. The Ant-men are truly pests!” DeWitt said with a pained expression, his hand on his sword hilt as he pointed at the abandoned farmland.

Victor smiled faintly. On the eleventh day of Gillian’s ordeal, Earl Chepman had dispatched a squad of elite soldiers to protect the family’s heir, led by the Great Knight DeWitt. Upon meeting her family’s men, Gillian had immediately demanded they retrieve her equipment. And so, Victor had brought the Chapman knights to Flatlake. The soldiers and knights would naturally handle salvaging the gear, while Victor and the two Great Knights remained on the shore to enjoy the view.

“Sir DeWitt, how does the Chapman family view the Ant-men?” Victor asked.

DeWitt said with hatred, “The Ant-men are universally recognized as pests! Their habits are similar to wild bees; whoever provokes them gets torn to shreds! The difference is, wild bees produce honey, while Ant-men devour crops. For that reason alone, we can never coexist with them. Even if they don’t actively attack humans, we must exterminate them!”

“For the most part, that is true,” Victor said, nodding in agreement. He then added, “If I may be so bold as to ask, how many of your crops in the Chapman territory have not been destroyed? And how many Ant-men remain?”

DeWitt’s mouth twitched, and he sighed. “Less than forty percent of the fief’s crops remain. To stop the Ant-men from devouring more, we have three castles fighting them. There are still over nine thousand Ant-men left.”

“Indeed, the speed at which the ant swarms devour crops is astonishing. If there isn’t intense combat to attract their attention, they will eat every last stalk. The York family lost their entire harvest, and I hear the Briatte family is in the same boat. Duke Nimes’ duchy has also suffered considerable losses. Of course, not a single grain of wheat is left in my fief either. I certainly don’t have the ability to resist the ant tide.” Victor said with a low laugh.

DeWitt seemed to read between the lines. He probed, “Viscount Victor, it seems your Purple Cane forest remains largely intact. Could it be that the Ant-men don’t like to eat Purple Cane?”

“They love Purple Cane. It’s just that besides Purple Cane, my fief also has Fishmen,” Victor stated nonchalantly.

“What?” DeWitt couldn’t help but let out a cry. The information Victor revealed stunned him.

Victor nodded and said, “Initially, over thirty thousand Ant-men flooded my territory. Some entered the Chapman territory, and some entered Bryat’s fief. Eskri’s fief was also infested. About seven thousand Ant-men remained in my domain. Later, I discovered they were fighting the Fishmen on the riverbanks. As of now, the number of Ant-men here has been reduced to three thousand, which is why the Purple Cane forest was spared.”

DeWitt formally gave Victor a Knight’s salute. “My lord Viscount, thank you very much for revealing this information to us.”

Earl Chapman’s domain also bordered the Goldwater River, and the length of their riverbank was even greater than Victor’s fief, meaning they had a considerable number of Fishmen as well. Because Earl Chepman had been resolutely resisting the Ant-man invasion, the ant swarm had not yet clashed with the Fishmen. With Victor’s intelligence, the Chapman family could now use the Fishmen to share the pressure from the ant swarm, which would significantly reduce their combat losses.

While DeWitt was overjoyed, Victor reminded him, “If you think the Ant-men are simple and brainless, you will surely suffer heavy casualties!”

“Victor, I’ve always had a question,” Gillian interjected. “Were you ambushing a Silver-rank Ant-man when you happened to save me?”

Victor smiled. Few people knew of his ability to monitor his territory, and he had no intention of explaining it to Gillian. He nodded and said, “That’s right, I was ambushing a Silver Ant-man. Recently, the York family launched a battle to lure the ant swarm and discovered that exceptionally powerful Ant-men were mixed in with them. These Silver-rank Ant-men will actively attack Great Knights. Lady Sylvia believes that eliminating these Ant-men, which are capable of fleeing, can truly weaken the swarm’s strength and slow the offensive of the next Ant-man tide. The York family has already reported this intelligence to the Church, so I believe it won’t be long before you receive a notice. Lady Sylvia also warned that the Silver-rank Ant-men are mixed in with the swarm, making them difficult to identify and extremely dangerous. She doesn’t believe a Great Knight can survive being surrounded by the swarm.”

The expressions on DeWitt and Gillian’s faces turned grim. A monster that could threaten a Silver Knight was what earned it the “Silver-rank” designation. Great Knights were not afraid of fighting Silver-rank monsters, but they an ambush from one, especially in the heat of battle.

“No wonder Viscount Briart died at the hands of the Ant-men,” DeWitt said grimly. Viscount Briart was the first Great Knight to die in the Ant-man plague. His death had shocked the Kingdom of Gambia and directly led to lords no longer daring to send high-level knights to clear out ant swarms alone, opting instead for castle defense tactics.

Gillian frowned and asked, “Is there no way to distinguish them? Under what circumstances do the Silver Ant-men flee?”

“I don’t know,” Victor said, shaking his head. “Perhaps they flee when they lose their cover. For example, when the swarm’s numbers are reduced to a certain point. They are like assassins, or soldier bees in a hive. When the swarm is threatened, they strike. In short, you must be careful. Do not personally lure the ant swarm.”

Gillian and DeWitt exchanged a look and sighed. “It seems our only choice is to have our elite cavalry lure the ant tide to the riverbank.”

“Sacrifice is unavoidable. A warrior must have this realization,” DeWitt said with a nod.

“My Lady Gillian, your equipment has been salvaged,” a Chapman soldier reported, walking over.

Gillian was overjoyed. Forgetting to worry about the fate of her family’s elite cavalry, she strode towards the lake in her high leather boots. She was already tall, and the half-high heels of her boots not only made her posture more erect but also added a hint of seductiveness to her stride.

After the raft reached the shore, Gillian eagerly took her armor and longsword from a family knight. She inspected them carefully, and her face lit up with a smile when she confirmed they were undamaged.

“This set of Great Knight equipment is forged from Adamantine, Mithril, and refined iron. It is not only exceptionally strong but also corrosion-resistant. It wouldn’t rust even if soaked in water for half a year,” DeWitt explained to Victor, who stood beside him.

“Very nice,” Victor said with a noncommittal smile, waiting for DeWitt to continue.

DeWitt pondered for a moment, then said, “Although Adamantine is called a ‘gold’, it has nothing to do with actual gold. It is incredibly strong and also light. Adding just a small amount of Adamantine can drastically improve the quality of weapons and armor. Adamantine is quite rare. If not for the Kingdom of Borea discovering large Adamantine mines, its value wouldn’t be much lower than Mithril’s. Even so, the Boreans still restrict the export quantity of Adamantine. And it just so happens that our Chapman family has an Adamantine mine… Victor, you are willing to sell us Mithril, and we are very grateful. But besides Mithril, we also need refined iron from the Centaur Hills. I was wondering if these could be included in the scope of our trade.”

Refined iron was strong, heavy, and corrosion-resistant, making it a vital material for forging weapons and equipment. The equipment of elite soldiers was infused with refined iron, and the gear of knights used it as the main material. Therefore, refined iron had a wide range of uses and was an indispensable strategic resource. The Centaur Hills lacked iron ore, salt mines, and flax, but it was rich in refined iron. The Chapman family’s request to trade for refined iron was not outside Victor’s expectations. They clearly saw him as Sylvia’s spokesperson, and Victor had no intention of correcting this misunderstanding.

“Trade between freemen should be free trade. I will not interfere, not tax, not obstruct, not harm. I hope the Chapman family will adopt the same attitude,” Victor said softly.

DeWitt frowned in thought, while Gillian set down her armor and longsword. She stared at Victor with blazing eyes and said excitedly, “Including Purple Cane wine, raw sugar, Snow Sugar, and coffee?”

“Purple Cane wine is excluded. I cannot violate the Divine Notarization,” Victor said with a smile.

Gillian moved closer, and amidst Victor’s stunned gaze, she fiercely kissed his lips. Their lips tangled for a moment before she pulled away, her face flushing as she said, “This is a reward for saving me. In the future, I will save you once, too.”

Looking at the stunningly charming Miss Chapman, Victor smiled. “I hope that day never comes.”

Gillian shot a fierce glare at the dumbfounded DeWitt, then said to Victor, “I’m leaving.”

The party from the Chapman family gradually disappeared into the distance. Narsen asked Victor, “My lord, did they agree?”

She’s really inexperienced, Victor thought, touching his tingling lips. He pulled his gaze away from Gillian’s departing figure and turned to say, “They still have to discuss it with Earl Chapman, but I’m confident the Chapman family will agree. Mithril is too important for high-level knights. Not all Great Knights have Mithril equipment.”

“Then why don’t we trade with the York family? If they find out, they will likely be very displeased,” Narsen asked with a worried tone.

Victor shook his head and sighed. “That’s exactly why the York family must not know!”

Mithril was too scarce, and the York family had numerous knights. If they knew there was a Mithril mine here, they would inevitably claim it for themselves. Sylvia could not bend the will of her vassal family just to favor Victor. In the end, the piece of territory where the Mithril mine was located would be carved away, and Victor would at most receive some compensation.

Victor’s subordinates had no knights and didn’t care about the ownership of the Mithril mine, but they could not tolerate the York family carving away his eastern territory. Otherwise, his domain would be completely isolated, cutting off Victor’s connection to the outside world.

To the west of Victor’s fief was the Great Marsh; to the south was the Goldwater River; to the north were Eskri’s fief and Black Fortress Town; to the northeast was Bryat’s fief; and directly to the east was the Chapman territory. The north, west, and south were all dead ends. The Briatte family to the northeast had once conspired with the Queen against Victor, making them hostile. If Victor wanted his freemen merchant caravans to venture out, his only choice was to go east, through the Chapman territory, straight into the area of influence of the kingdom’s southern lords, and then further east, passing through the Randt Empire and the Kingdom of Ayr to finally reach the Borrey United Kingdom.

Similarly, Victor’s plan for a small piece of territory at the northern end of the Centaur Hills, besides monitoring the ant swarm and occupying mountain resources, had another purpose: to use it as a starting point to push northward and open a trade route through the Dodor Kingdom, the Sasan Empire, and the Teutonic Duchy.

This was Victor’s strategic vision of a “Northward and Eastward Advance.” The deal with the Chapman family was the first step in his eastward strategy. For this, he needed to cultivate good relations with his eastern neighbors, even if they had once stolen his Mithril and Purple Cane.

A slight smile appeared on Victor’s face as he spoke to his capable subordinate, “Narsen, let’s go. We’re clearing out the Ant-men in our territory!”

Chapter 149: Misunderstanding

Chapman territory, Blue Goose Keep.

On the highest watchtower of Blue Goose Keep, besides a large-scale crossbow, a table and chairs had been placed, making the fifteen-square-meter area feel exceptionally cramped. Earl Chapman stood on the watchtower, drew his longbow, and with a twang, a heavy arrow streaked over six hundred meters, pinning an Ant-man to the ground. The Ant-man did not die at once; it struggled and shrieked desperately, tearing its wound wider. Green blood gushed out, quickly spreading into a shimmering green pool.

“If it were a Wind-element Great Knight, that shot could have reached over eight hundred meters.” Earl Chapman put away his longbow and turned to see his precious daughter with her legs propped up on the desk in a most unladylike manner. He could not help but shake his head and chuckle.

“Father, even though I’ve only just advanced to Great Knight, I’m not that poor a judge of character. I saw with my own eyes Victor shoot and kill that Silver-rank Ant-man, and he used a military heavy crossbow.” Gillian admired the tall boots on her legs. Victor’s boot design was very much to her liking, and she planned to have the family’s leather artisan make more styles of them.

Earl Chapman was somewhat surprised. He knew his daughter’s strong-willed personality well; she never wore noblewomen’s attire, especially not mid-heeled shoes. Gillian’s unusual behavior today secretly pleased the Earl. He felt it was time he could finally discuss the important matter of her marriage with the family heiress.

Earl Chapman secretly resolved to find a suitable suitor for Gillian, but he maintained a calm facade, saying, “The Wind-element Great Knights are called the most fearsome Knights precisely because they can kill Silver-rank monsters with ranged weapons—and that, of course, includes Silver Knights. If Viscount Victor can kill a Silver-rank Ant-man with a heavy crossbow, his killing power is already comparable to a Wind-element Great Knight.”

“What’s so strange about that?” Gillian asked in surprise.

Earl Chapman sighed. “I’m just a little regretful. I’ve long known that Viscount Victor possessed the Wind Walk talent, but I never expected him to reach this level in just one year. This shows that his ancient bloodline is remarkably pure, which means his descendants will surely become Knights, perhaps even Great Knights.”

“In that case, won’t that woman Sophia regret it to death?” Gillian said with schadenfreude.

“Sophia concealed it too well—so well that everyone forgot her origins. At her core, she’s a Wild Knight who detests family. Wild Knights are all deviants who revere freedom and despise authority. Unless they suffer a harsh setback, these types will never submit to the family.” Earl Chapman paused, then continued, “This is what I find baffling. Sylvia and Sophia are close. With the Wimbledon Merchant Association supporting the York family, why would she conduct a secret trade of supplies with us? It doesn’t make sense.”

Gillian pouted, saying unhappily, “If you doubt my judgment, do you also doubt DeWitt’s? The soldiers with Victor are the elite of the elite. They must have been sent by the York family to protect him.”

Earl Chapman said pensively, “Gillian, tell me what happened again.”

“At the time, Victor proposed trading with us using Mithril. Those soldiers were all around, and Victor made no effort to hide it from them, yet none of them showed any surprise. The only explanation is that they already knew about it,” Gillian repeated.

Earl Chapman paced back and forth, still unable to believe such a good thing would fall into his lap. Gillian, however, said impatiently, “Father, you’re overthinking it. The York family took in the entire population of the Centaur Hills. Their stored supplies must be nearly exhausted. They need new channels to replenish their stock, and it’s obvious we southern lords are one of their options. I heard Sophia is personally leading a caravan to the Teutonic Duchy to attend the barbarians’ great market this year. It would take at least half a year for the Yorks to get supplies from Sophia. So, they want to establish a connection with us through Victor. It’s a secret deal anyway, who would know? Even if others found out, it would just be a transaction between freemen. We can claim ignorance.”

Earl Chapman nodded. “You have a point, but I still feel something is strange about this. Why does Viscount Victor want fifty thousand Gold Sol? And what does he mean by ‘unaware, no taxes, no obstruction, no harm’?”

Unaware, Earl Chapman could understand. Such a deal involved sensitive materials, so they would naturally need to distance themselves from it. No taxes, however, left the Earl scratching his head. He’d be overjoyed to trade for Mithril, refined iron, copper ingots, raw sugar, Snow Sugar, and coffee, so why would he ever consider taxing it? As for no obstruction and no harm, that was even more baffling. If he blocked the merchants, how could they trade?

“Father, Victor wanted one hundred and fifty thousand Gold Sol. I saved you one hundred thousand Gold Sol. Remember to reward me with at least ten thousand Gold Sol. No, twenty thousand!” Gillian pointed at her own nose and said proudly.

“I can’t figure out why Victor would propose four meaningless conditions. But I don’t see anything detrimental to our family in them. That’s enough, isn’t it?”

Earl Chapman laughed at himself, then picked up a long arrow and nocked it on the bowstring. The iron arrows, specifically designed for use against centaurs, were brutal. They were one-point-three meters long, their heads and shafts infused with refined iron, making them heavy and sharp. Each piercing iron arrow was worth five Silver Sol, and any Ant-man struck by one would bleed profusely. To lure the Ant-man swarm into attacking the castle, Earl Chapman had ordered a stop to the use of cheap fire arrows in favor of these expensive long arrows.

Twang!

Another Ant-man was pinned to the ground. A faint smile touched Earl Chapman’s lips. His elite cavalry were already in position, ready to draw the swarm to the riverbank at a moment’s notice. When that time came, the Fishmen would give these wretched pests a proper welcome on his behalf.

“That fellow Victor is always coming up with some strange new trick.”

Unable to figure it out, Earl Chapman decided not to dwell on it any longer. However, by the time he did figure it out, he had already boarded Victor’s pirate ship, and there was no getting off. Not that he would want to by then.

Royal Capital of Gambis, the estate of Marquess Ludwig, Minister of Internal Affairs.

Viscount Tenis sat on the sofa in the living room, awaiting an audience with Marquess Ludwig. The Marquess was not only his direct superior but also an old friend of his Tutor and, more importantly, the grandfather of his fiancée. For these reasons, Tenis had nearly free rein in the Marquess’s estate.

The door to the Marquess’s office opened from the inside. Tenis stood up, preparing to greet the Marquess’s guest.

“Jacob? What’s wrong?” Tenis was surprised to see that the person who came out was none other than his fiancée’s brother, Jacob Ludwig. Jacob’s expression, however, was one of grief and indignation, his eyes red-rimmed. Something had clearly happened.

Jacob barely managed to nod at Tenis before brushing past him without a word.

Frowning, Tenis walked into the Marquess’s office and was shocked to find that Marquess Ludwig’s face was just as grim.

“My lord, what happened?” Tenis composed himself and asked nervously.

Marquess Ludwig shook his head and sighed. “Jacob’s fiancée, Michelle, has been murdered.”

“How could this be?” Tenis turned pale with fright.

Jacob’s fiancée, Michelle, was the second daughter of Earl Dilville. She was only sixteen years old but was a stunning beauty who had awakened her Moon Elf bloodline. Jacob was utterly infatuated with Michelle; it was unthinkable that she would be murdered.

Tenis could understand Jacob’s loss of composure. As the Marquess’s future grandson-in-law, it was only right and proper for him to offer his condolences.

“My lord, who did it? Is there anything I can do for you?”

The Marquess shook his head. “We don’t know who the mastermind is yet. Michelle was assassinated during an outing. From the method, it looks very much like the work of that notorious Throat-slitter. Duke Peter is furious and is investigating the matter thoroughly.”

Tenis was speechless. Earl Dilville was a powerful noble of the Borrey United Kingdom and a supporter of Duke Peter. The Earl’s wife was of the Wimbledon bloodline and a cousin to Duke Peter’s wife. Michelle’s murder was very likely an act directed against Duke Peter.

The Throat-slitter was a notorious assassin from the dark forces. No one knew his name, his appearance, whether he was male or female, old or young. But every time he killed, he would slit his victim’s throat, leaving behind a unique, serrated wound that had become his signature. The Throat-slitter had been at large for over a decade, with no fewer than thirty nobles dead at his hands. Even a Knight had been assassinated by him. For this reason, everyone believed the Throat-slitter was most likely a Knight himself.

Several families had been hunting the Throat-slitter for years, and it was said the bounty on his head exceeded one hundred thousand Gold Sol. The Throat-slitter had vanished for a long time, so for him to reappear now and murder the marriage partner of the Ludwig family was a shock.

“My lord, the Peixike family is willing to do everything in our power to help you find the mastermind,” Tenis said, placing a hand over his chest in a pledge.

“Tenis, when you have time, try to console Jacob. That boy won’t let this rest.” The Marquess nodded in gratification, then said, “Now, tell me what you saw and heard on your trip to the Centaur Hills.”

“Yes.”

Tenis gave a detailed account of everything he had experienced.

After listening patiently to Tenis’s report, the Marquess asked, “What did you gain from this mission to the York family?”

Tenis thought for a moment before replying, “My lord, I shed my arrogant heart.”

“Shed your arrogant heart? Excellent!” The Marquess clapped his hands and laughed, nodding. “We court nobles are arrogant on the surface but humble within, while the regional lords are humble on the surface but arrogant within. We are the dogs raised by the royal family—we bark and we bite. The regional lords are the wolves under the royal family’s command—they don’t bark, but they devour. That is the difference. With this realization, you are halfway to success. Do you know what the other half is?”

“We also want to become wolves. Therefore, we must help the Wolf King become stronger. Only when the Wolf King acquires more territory can we become wolves,” Tenis said, his eyes burning with intensity.

“Good! Good! Good! Tenis, I was not mistaken about you. Your future accomplishments will surely surpass my own,” Marquess Ludwig exclaimed, his voice full of gratification.

“My lord, that is what I strive for.” Tenis bowed his head in respect, then asked, “My lord, do you think the York family will become a scourge upon the kingdom?”

“The possibility is very small. The Centaur Hills has turned from a rear territory into a frontline. They must first face the attacks of the Ant-man swarms. Even if they build a fortress at the swamp entrance, every war will consume a vast amount of supplies. Second, the Centaur Hills lacks sufficient stone, so they cannot build more castles to control their territory. Lastly, the York family’s current strength is built upon Sylvia, but even a Gold Knight will perish one day. Without a Gold Knight, without enough castles, and facing constant attacks from the Ant-men, how could the York family possibly become a scourge?” After his explanation, the Marquess gave Tenis a strange look. There was no reason Tenis should not have understood such a simple principle.

“Did you discover something?”

Tenis was silent for a moment before saying, “My lord, I discovered that the York family has very professional chefs and extremely elite soldiers, even more elite than the finest in the Royal Capital. It’s a little unusual.”

“That’s not unusual at all. The York family has a thousand-year-old legacy. They were once lords of the Randt Empire alongside Auguste. There are five such families in Gambis, and their foundations are beyond what you can imagine right now,” Marquess Ludwig said with a smile, then changed the subject. “By the way, what of Viscount Victor’s northern territory? Is there anything to report?”

“Viscount Victor said he wishes to serve the kingdom loyally and become a barrier on the northern side of the Centaur Hills,” Tenis said with a strange expression.

“A barrier? Heh, it’s nothing more than a pawn for the York family in the north, just to keep an eye on Viscount Soren’s territory,” the Marquess scoffed with a shake of his head.

Tenis’s gaze shifted as he said, “My lord, Viscount Victor requested to pay the annual tribute of twenty thousand Gold Sol in installments over the course of a year. I agreed. If you find this problematic, I can advance the sum myself,” Tenis said nervously.

Marquess Ludwig waved his hand dismissively. “That’s a small matter. You may decide for yourself.”

Chapter 150: Rebuilding the Future

Victor’s fief, the hills on the southern riverbank.

Swoosh! A swift arrow pierced an Ant-man’s head. It staggered around a few times before finally collapsing, dead.

“Yes!” Narsen cheered a few times, but then noticed with embarrassment that none of the three hundred-plus soldiers had responded to him. He sheepishly fell silent.

Victor put away his Dual-Silver shortbow, smiled, and clapped Narsen on the shoulder. “We’ve won,” he said.

“My lord, we’ve won!” Narsen grinned.

The Ant-men’s blood stained the earth green. Hundreds of their corpses littered the valley floor. Strong Warhounds moved back and forth, piling the bodies in one spot. A fire arrow ignited the pile, and roaring flames erupted with a whoosh. The wave of heat and the foul stench forced Victor to retreat several steps.

This was the last group of Ant-men in the fief. Victor had them burned on the spot, as there were no more Ant-men left to devour their corpses.

After instructing the militia responsible for cleaning the battlefield to control the fire’s spread, Victor led the main force out of the valley. Once outside, he took a deep breath of fresh air and sighed, “It’s finally over.”

After seven long months, Victor was the first to clear the Ant-man swarms from his territory. From now on, he only needed to intercept the retreating Ant-man chiefs.

During the Ant-man plague, all the villages under Victor’s name had suffered varying degrees of damage. More than one hundred people were dead or missing, millions of mu of Purple Cane forest were reduced to less than six hundred thousand mu, and Victor had also lost three thousand square kilometers of territory. The losses were, by all accounts, disastrous.

However, Victor’s gains were also enormous. The plague had swept away all the troubles in his fief, the refugee crisis was eliminated, and both Flatlake and the Mithril mine had fallen into his hands. Moreover, the Alchemy Tower’s Soul Fire limit and financial reserves were increasing daily. He now had 467 Lithe Ape militiamen, 71 Crouching Ox Militiamen, 236 auxiliary soldiers, 61 Warhounds, and 113 alchemical crows.

Victor had also successfully taken control of the western mountains, where he had built a fortress and a complete production system. As long as the mountain resources did not run out, Victor could obtain a continuous supply of weapons, grain, medicinal herbs, meat, fuel, Swiftbirds, and more.

In politics and diplomacy, Victor had become a hereditary Viscount of the kingdom, giving him the foundation to recruit Knights. He had formed a close alliance with the York family; if he were attacked by Ant-men again, he could use the York family’s military strength to further weaken the swarms and strengthen himself. Using Mithril, he established a secret trade relationship with his eastern neighbor, which would help counter any potential blockade or isolation by the kingdom. It would also allow him to use Earl Chepman’s territory to realize his strategic vision of sending caravans eastward.

It could be said that his prospects for future development were as vast as the sea and sky. Victor felt refreshed and invigorated.

“Caw!” An alchemical crow flew in from the east, circling in the air. Victor’s eyes lit up, and he smiled at Narsen. “Someone’s coming from the east. It should be the supplies and gold promised by the Chapman family. Take some men to take a look, then bring the supplies to Flatlake Village.”

Narsen acknowledged the order and led thirty-some Alchemical militia eastward. Victor, meanwhile, led the remaining Alchemical militia back to Flatlake Village.

Along the way, the once-endless Purple Cane forest was now a scene of ruin and desolation. Broken and rotting Purple Cane was everywhere, and the ground was pitted and uneven; the Ant-men had dug up even the very roots of the Purple Cane. It would take at least thirty years to restore the forest.

“Reno, you’ve also loaded the gathering and planting skills. The Purple Cane forest is destroyed. Is there any way to plant crops like barley or wheat on this land?” Victor frowned, consulting one of his Alchemical militia. The Ant-men had destroyed the Purple Cane forest, leaving millions of mu of land vacant. Victor would not sit by and watch this fertile land become overgrown with weeds and thorns.

“My lord, there is no way,” Reno’s reply was as simple and certain as ever.

Victor was speechless. Land that could grow Purple Cane couldn’t grow crops. Yet, that was the reality.

Purple Cane was the food of the Forest Centaurs, and its defining characteristic was its particularly long root system. A Purple Cane’s rhizome was nearly a meter long, and its rootlets extended as far as five meters. The annual rainfall alone was enough to satisfy its growth needs. Human crops and vegetables were different; without sufficient irrigation, they could not survive. This was why human farmlands were all distributed near rivers and lakes.

The Blackwater River ran through the Centaur Hills. The section within Victor’s fief was eighty-seven kilometers long and formed one large and two small lakes, serving as the fief’s main water source. The river was quite shallow, less than a meter deep at its deepest point, so it had no value for shipping, but it was more than enough for irrigating fields. Due to the hilly terrain, Victor could develop at most five hundred thousand mu of farmland along the banks of the Blackwater River.

Five hundred thousand mu of arable land sounded like a lot, but the yield was pitifully low. The agricultural technology of this world was extremely backward. To maintain soil fertility, farmers practiced a simple ley farming system, meaning half the land was planted with grass while the other half was used for crops, alternating between them. The grain yield per mu was about 140 kilograms, but 70 kilograms of that were seeds for the next planting. The true net yield was only 70 kilograms. This meant 250,000 mu of cultivated land could harvest 17,500 tons of grain annually.

The common people of this world were very strong and had large appetites. An adult man required about 1.5 kilograms of food per day. The deadliest part was that a year here had sixteen months, with thirty-six days each. By that calculation, one adult would consume 0.8 tons of grain per year. This meant that the nine thousand-square-kilometer fief, relying solely on farming, could only support twenty thousand adult men. Including women and children, if the population exceeded thirty thousand, a food shortage would occur.

This was why the lords of the Centaur Hills cut down the Purple Cane forests. On that land, they planted alfalfa and drought-resistant rye, raising dairy cows and goats to supplement their food supply, and regularly organized their subjects to carry out gathering and hunting activities. If Victor adopted the same measures, the optimal population for his fief could not exceed forty thousand people.

“Reno, can ground-potatoes be planted here?” Victor asked, full of expectation.

Reno shook his head. “My lord, ground-potatoes also need water.”

Hundreds of thousands of mu of Purple Cane forest, worth a million Gold Sol, could now only be planted with cheap pasture grass for raising cattle and sheep. But what was done was done. Victor could only let out a deep sigh. “Ugh, I guess we’ll plant grass and raise cattle then. The sinew and hides are still quite useful.”

By the time Victor reached Flatlake Village, Narsen was already waiting for him.

“My lord, all the supplies and gold from the Chapman family are here,” Narsen said, beaming as he came forward to greet him. “Forty ox-carts, forty strong oxen, forty dairy cows, two hundred sheep, one hundred twenty thousand pounds of wheat seed, ten thousand pounds of salt, and also forty thousand Gold Sol and one pound of Adamantine.”

These supplies were what Victor had proposed to the Chapman family to offset ten thousand Gold Sol of debt. The most valuable item was the one-pound block of Adamantine. Although the total value of the goods was less than ten thousand Gold Sol, they were exactly what Victor desperately needed. This time, one couldn’t say Earl Chepman was being stingy. If Victor hadn’t insisted, the Earl would have preferred to give fifty thousand Gold Sol rather than use supplies as payment. The lords near the Centaur Hills had all been affected by the disaster to some degree, so it was clear there would be a grain shortage in the near future. In such a situation, one couldn’t necessarily buy grain even with money.

Victor handed the wooden box containing the Adamantine to an Alchemical militiaman, gesturing for him to take it back to the secret base. He then saw Narsen staring eagerly at the box and couldn’t help but laugh. “I have a use for this Adamantine. Next time we trade with the Chapman family, I can consider having two Adamantine battleaxes forged for you.”

“Thank you, My lord,” Narsen said, scratching his head in embarrassment.

“You deserve it. If it weren’t for you, not a single stalk of our Purple Cane would have been left,” Victor said with a nod. He then added, “Once these goods are unloaded, take ten two-wheeled carts and go meet Lilia. They should have set out by now.”

“As you command, My lord,” Narsen said excitedly. He had been waiting for this day for a long time.

A short while later, Narsen left in high spirits with a dozen militiamen. Victor turned and gave his orders, “Jack, take one hundred fifty men and clear the ruins of Flatlake Village first. Haul all the debris to Brick Kiln Village to use as fuel. Restart the giant brick kiln and begin producing ordinary green bricks.

“Shak, you take fifty militiamen and eighty auxiliary soldiers to clear the ruins of Hill Camp. Build a blacksmith shop there to produce farm tools, refine sugar, brew Purple Cane wine, and make coffee.

“Moray, you take one hundred fifty men, pick a spot at the mouth of the lake in Flatlake, and build a camp that can hold a thousand people.”

Watching the Alchemical militia spring into action, Victor was full of confidence for the future. To rebuild his fief, he had brought a full five hundred Alchemical humans from the mountain fortress. This would be the first time Alchemical humans integrated with ordinary people on a large scale. Victor no longer needed to hide them.

————————————————

Dressed in a long skirt, Lilia stood elegantly before Victor’s subjects and spoke in a cold voice, “Lord Victor has cleared the Ant-men from the fief. It is now time for us to return! I know that some of you are afraid, some do not wish to leave Black Fortress Town, and some want to betray Lord Victor! Make your choice. Those who are willing to return with me, stand behind me. Those who are unwilling to leave, stay where you are. Lord Victor will not make things difficult for you.”

The crowd immediately stirred. The first to stand behind Lilia were the War Bear Mercenaries. Then Moline stepped forward, bowed respectfully to Lilia, and stood behind her. Dean and the other village heads also came over. The guards and members of the work point system all stepped forward, one by one, followed by the women and children. In the end, nearly two hundred people remained where they were.

Everyone looked coldly at the people who stayed behind. Only Dean lowered his head, his face flushed crimson. Most of those who remained were villagers from Brick Kiln Village, all of them his former subordinates.

“I am already very satisfied that you chose to come over,” Lilia said faintly to Dean.

“My Lady, I’m sorry, I didn’t expect these people…” Dean was so ashamed he didn’t know where to look. Only his own team members and their families had followed him.

“It’s alright. This is a good thing. This is what My lord meant when he said that ‘true gold is tested by fire.’”

Lilia sighed softly. Most of the villagers from Brick Kiln Village were freemen who had only recently joined Victor’s fief. They had not experienced the defensive battle at Hill Camp, had not joined the work point system, and had no families there. When monsters swept across the land, it was only natural for them to choose a more powerful lord, especially since the York family had been actively recruiting them. Lilia was well aware of this, but she had not expected Dean to also choose to return to the fief. He had been a key target of the York family’s recruitment efforts.

“Lilia, the York family’s Scribe refuses to lend us dry rations and won’t even give us back our carts! But Lady Nicole has already gone to see him,” Old John said, exasperated, as he dragged his wooden prosthetic leg over.

“I know.”

Lilia’s calmness astonished Old John. How had this girl changed so much from before?

Chapter 151: Before the Return

“My Lady Nicole, I can’t conjure grain out of thin air!” Facing the imposing family knight, Max, the Scribe of Black Fortress, argued his case forcefully.

Nicole’s bright almond eyes flashed with a dangerous, cold light as she spoke icily to Max, “I’ve been to the storehouse. It’s piled high with grain. If you dare tell me that isn’t grain, I’ll knock out all of your teeth.”

Nicole’s hands were beautiful—slender, fair, and smooth. Yet Max knew that these delicate hands, which looked so tender you could almost squeeze water from them, could easily bend a spear forged from refined iron. He also knew that Nicole was not joking. Max swallowed hard and said, “There are twelve million pounds of grain stored in the warehouse, but we have no grain to give to Viscount Victor’s subjects. Not a single kernel!”

“So you’re deliberately making things difficult for Victor? Who gave you the nerve?!”

Nicole was genuinely furious. Victor’s rock brick technology was of paramount importance to the family—this was the consensus among the family’s upper echelon. But the matter of the rock bricks was too sensitive. If not for a chance encounter, she herself would never have known the reason, and a mid-level functionary like Max couldn’t possibly know any of the inside details. Nicole didn’t believe Max would dare to obstruct Victor on his own. He must have been instructed by someone higher up. This sort of betrayal, of burning the bridge after crossing it, left Nicole fuming.

Max, however, shook his head and said, “My Lady Nicole, with all due respect, you are a noble and powerful Knight, but you do not understand the family’s internal affairs. The family has fallen into a food shortage crisis.”

“Of the twelve million pounds of grain, six million pounds are seeds that absolutely cannot be touched. What we can use is the remaining six million pounds. But please note, Black Fortress Town now has a population of one hundred and twenty thousand. These people’s daily rations amount to two hundred thousand pounds. Our grain will only last for thirty days.”

“That’s right, you heard me correctly. Not three hundred days, not one hundred days, but a mere thirty days. As a family Knight, you may not be aware, but we attendants in charge of internal affairs have already started eating the black bread that only the lowest of commoners eat. This coarse food is made from rye flour, ground up with the bran. To be honest, the first time I ate this stuff, I believed the story of the Seymour Street murder case was real.”

The Seymour Street murder case, in which a depraved chef killed five poor street children, was a piece of gossip the nobles enjoyed not for the case itself, but for the fact that the murder weapon was supposedly a loaf of black bread. Now, a piece of black bread hard as half a brick sat on the table, more persuasive than any words. Nicole’s aggressive momentum vanished without a trace.

Nicole stammered, “Has the family’s situation become this difficult?”

“The difficult part is yet to come. This year’s harvest was a complete failure. We have to feed one hundred and twenty thousand people. The caravans no longer come to Black Fortress Town. Fortunately, our neighbors are still supporting us, but they have also suffered disasters. For the next three years, we will need to rely on the Kingdom’s Aid, but believe me when I say this, the royal family won’t let us eat our fill,” Max said earnestly.

Nicole was silent for a moment, then gritted her teeth. “You’re lying to me! The family has been providing food for Victor’s subjects all this time. Are you telling me you can’t even squeeze out twenty days’ worth of rations?”

Seeing signs that the female Knight was about to snap, Max hurriedly explained, “That’s different. We can provide food for people who remain in Black Fortress Town, but we will absolutely not provide journey rations for those attempting to leave. That is the reality of the situation. For those willing to stay, we must give them something to eat, no matter how difficult it is. As for those who are leaving… whether they have food or not, what concern is that of ours?”

The York family needed sufficient labor to build the fortress, farm the land, and herd livestock. And the farmers who had been taken in were not fools. With the Centaur Hills now a Pioneer Fief, who would want to stay here and suffer? They would try every means possible to leave Black Fortress Town. Only by tightly controlling the food supply could such behavior be stopped. This had been the York family’s strategy from the start: We are already in a difficult position. Only those who join us will be fed. Those unwilling to join can find their own way out. The Church had tacitly approved of the York family’s methods, and the lords of the western kingdom were even less likely to accept these refugees. However, Nicole was not ready to give up.

“Don’t try to fool me! The family is trying to gather refugees who have nowhere else to go. But Viscount Victor’s subjects are not refugees with no one to take them in. You can’t be unaware of Victor’s relationship with the family, can you?”

Max replied firmly, “That won’t work either! Once word of something like this gets out, scoundrels will incite fools to go to the Church and make trouble for us. They won’t care about Lord Victor’s relationship with the family. I will absolutely not agree to this!”

Then, Max added cautiously, “My Lady Nicole, you must not forget your own position and identity. If Lord Viscount Victor were to make the request to the family himself, I would certainly make the arrangements for him. That would be a favor between nobles. But do you think a noble would use a favor on something like this? In the end, those subjects are merely lower-class people. Besides, they have skilled guards among them; finding some food in the wilderness will not be a difficult task. Of course, I will arrange a carriage and food for My Lady Lilia befitting her status. That should be enough to preserve Lord Victor’s dignity.”

Nicole was persuaded. She was, after all, a Knight. By birth, there was an insurmountable gulf between her and the lower-class people. If it didn’t concern Victor, Nicole wouldn’t have bothered with such a matter at all.

“Return the horses and ox carts to them. Those are all Victor’s property,” Nicole said lightly.

“As you wish.”

When Nicole’s graceful and charming figure disappeared through the door, Max let out a sigh of relief. If he had rejected Nicole’s request again just now, he would surely have had his teeth knocked out.

Outside the Black Fortress, Nicole met with Lilia. She said apologetically, “Lilia, I’m sorry. The family’s food supply is truly insufficient. I was only able to get the horses and ox carts back for Victor.”

“That’s wonderful! Victor will be so happy if we can bring these warhorses and draft oxen back. Thank you, Sister Nicole. We’ll take care of the food ourselves,” Lilia exclaimed, overjoyed.

Nicole took Lilia’s hand, hesitating as if she wanted to say more, but in the end, she only gave a word of caution, “Be careful on the road.”

“Yes, I will.”

——————————————————

The mountain wind gusted past Victor, giving him the illusion that he could fly away at any moment.

Victor was clad head to toe in bluish-black armor. Its surface glinted with a faint, cold light—mysterious and chilling, like a knight from the underworld. Victor hadn’t expected the Dual-Silver full plate armor made from Ant-man carapace to be so light; the entire suit weighed no more than sixteen kilograms. Despite its light weight, the armor’s toughness was astonishing. Back then, Gillian had been unable to sever the Ant-man chief’s body even with all her strength, which was a testament to the strength of the Ant-man carapace, not to mention this suit was also fused with precious Thorium. Now, it could withstand a direct hit from a military heavy crossbow. Victor believed that with this armor, an ordinary Knight could no longer touch him.

This suit of armor’s attributes far surpassed the original Dual-Silver leather armor. Victor’s only regret was that the leather armor had become obsolete before he had even had a chance to get used to it. But in terms of appearance, the Dual-Silver leather armor was clearly more in line with most people’s aesthetic tastes. The Ant-man armor, on the other hand, exuded an air of cold-blooded ruthlessness. For example, Reno, standing beside him, was fully clad in the same armor and holding a 2.5-meter-long greatsword of refined iron. His mere presence was enough to put immense pressure on an ordinary person.

Right now, Victor was not focused on his new armor but was happily surveying his castle.

This thirty-meter-high hill castle covered an area of twenty-five mu. It had six floors, twenty-seven rooms, four basements, and four towers. Within the castle’s inner courtyard was a barracks, a blacksmith’s forge, an eight-mu vegetable garden, and a small flower garden.

The castle walls were two meters thick near the ground, and the towers were an even more formidable four meters thick, tapering as they rose. Every wall of the castle was constructed in three layers: the inner and outer walls were carefully joined together with rock bricks and sealed with mortar, making them extremely sturdy. The space between the inner and outer walls was filled with pebbles, crushed stone, and mortar.

Four thirty-eight-meter-high towers were built at the four corners of the castle, upon which heavy ballistae and small catapults could be mounted. These siege-grade weapons were ineffective against powerful individuals but could easily destroy enemy siege engines and dense rear formations.

Long, narrow parapets were built atop the thirty-meter-high walls. The parapets were composed of alternating high and low sections, with the higher merlons featuring slender arrow slits. Should the Ant-men ever besiege the castle, two hundred Lithe Ape militiamen could use the parapets to give them a taste of longbows and heavy crossbows.

“Are you sure it’s fine for the castle to not have a water source?” This hill had no spring. A long siege would have unimaginable consequences, a fact that deeply worried Victor.

Busuo pointed to a large cistern on the roof and replied, “My lord, we are backed by the Great Marsh, so the air humidity is very high. We have installed many refined iron pipes on the roof. The dew collected each day will flow down the pipes into the cistern below the roof. You need not worry about the castle’s water supply.”

The cistern was three meters high and covered by a shelter to prevent bird droppings from contaminating the water. At the bottom of the cistern were more connected pipes of refined iron, which led directly into the building below for use. Victor couldn’t help but grow excited. Wasn’t this just running water?

“Busuo, of all the things I’ve tasked you with, is there anything you can’t do?” Victor said with emotion.

Busuo thought for a moment and said, “My lord, I don’t know how to grow the crops here.”

Victor was speechless. An Alchemical Human with a loaded planting skill didn’t know how to farm. That was because the crops here were not the crops of the Alchemical Empire. It was like a modern farmer going back to ancient times; without chemical fertilizers, pesticides, or hybrid rice seeds, he too would be unable to produce a thousand catties per mu. The crops of the Alchemical Empire, besides being of different varieties, also required Mithril arrays and alchemical fertilizers. Busuo and the others truly didn’t know how to grow the crops here. This was a civilizational gap. In fact, many of the technologies Busuo had mastered were impossible to implement, most of them involving alchemical runes.

“My lord, the alchemical crow has spotted Captain Narsen’s group. They are about to enter the territory,” an Alchemical militiaman came to report.

“I know.” Victor nodded, then asked, “Busuo, are the plows I asked you to build ready?”

“They are ready.”

“Dig up all the ground-potatoes in the fields. I’m taking them all with me.”

Chapter 152: Viscount Randell

Paul lay in a nest of grass and let out a huge yawn. He had just eaten two ground-potatoes and a rack of ribs, and now all he wanted was to sleep soundly.

“Get up! You lazybones, the column is moving out!”

Paul struggled to his feet. Because he was a little slow, his old man landed a few sharp kicks on his rear.

Paul was seventeen this year. When he was thirteen, he had followed his father, Wood, in the migration from the Eastern Province to the Centaur Hills. During the long journey, his mother remarried, and his older brother’s family was recruited by a lord along the way. Only he and his father ended up adrift in the Centaur Hills, joining a freemen camp.

Life as a freeman was not pleasant. Father and son worked every day but often didn’t have enough to eat, until the camp’s chief led them to swear allegiance to the lord, Baron Victor Wimbledon. In the freemen settlement established by the lord, they worked hard and were among the first to be promoted to subjects, moving into the beautiful and orderly Hill Camp. Meanwhile, the former tyrannical chief of their camp was beaten to death by the lord’s guards.

The father and son were ambitious and wanted to join the lord’s work point system. However, a terrifying Ant-man attack struck the Centaur Hills, and they ultimately fled to Black Fortress Town. Five months later, they were once again returning to Victor’s fief.

“Dad, Lord Victor doesn’t have a castle. Is it dangerous for us to go back just like this?” Paul asked Wood in a low voice.

Wood scolded him, “What’s there to be afraid of?! If you don’t provoke the Ant-men, they won’t eat you! Besides, with Lord Narsen here, what is there to fear!”

Paul glanced with reverence at Narsen in his full suit of plate armor and the dozen or so elite soldiers by his side. He said no more, and as he walked, he even straightened his posture.

A faint smile appeared on Wood’s deeply-lined face. Four years had passed, and Paul had grown from a half-grown boy into a strapping young man, but his courage hadn’t grown with him. Originally, Paul had been unwilling to leave the high, thick walls of Black Fortress Town. It was only because of Wood’s insistence that he had reluctantly followed the column back. Wood had thought it through very clearly: the simple fact that Lord Victor was willing to cover his subjects’ retreat was reason enough to follow him. Furthermore, Black Fortress Town had one hundred and twenty thousand people; if they stayed there, he and his son would remain at the very bottom. Only by following Lord Victor would they have more opportunities to get ahead. Wood still hadn’t forgotten about the work point system. In truth, this was what most people were thinking, which was why they had resolutely embarked on the journey home, even without any journey rations.

They suffered all kinds of hardships along the way. To gather enough wild vegetables and fruits, they had to deviate from the road several times, and My Lady Lilia even ordered two draft oxen to be slaughtered. When they were halfway there, they met Narsen, who had come to meet them with ten whole cartloads of food. Narsen’s imposing armor and the formidable soldiers at his side filled everyone with a sense of security as much as awe.

With Narsen’s support, the column’s pace quickened significantly. More than twenty days later, they returned to Victor’s fief once more.

“Everyone, pick up the pace! We need to reach the camp for dinner before dark,” an old War Bear veteran, Kerry, shouted as he rode his horse back and forth along the side of the column.

The column began to turn east. Paul tugged on Wood’s sleeve. “Dad, it looks like we’re going the wrong way. Hill Camp is to the south.”

“What are you fussing about? What Hill Camp is there now? Just follow along,” Wood said impatiently, pulling his sleeve back.

Four hours later, Paul saw a camp on the shore of the lake. The camp was vast, enclosed by a simple fence, and at its gate stood over a hundred elite soldiers. These soldiers were tall and strong, arranged neatly in two ranks. Clad in leather armor, they held either short spears and round shields or carried longbows and heavy crossbows on their backs. At the very front of the ranks stood the lord, Victor, himself.

The wagons in the column came to a halt. Paul saw the beautiful My Lady Lilia lift her skirts and throw herself into the lord’s arms. In that instant, Paul understood that from now on, this camp would be their home.

Wood and his son followed the column in bowing respectfully to the lord. They were then led into the camp, which was laid out very neatly with shanties dotting the area. The shanties were identical in style to those in the temporary settlement for freemen, only much larger. The father and son were also surprised to find many strangers in the camp busy constructing new shanties.

Wood and Paul were brought before a shanty. The soldier guiding them said, “This is your shanty. Dinner is on the east side of the square. Tomorrow morning, the lord will hold an open-air assembly. Remember to be there.”

“Thank you, My lord,” Wood said, nodding and bowing obsequiously.

After the soldier nodded and left, Paul asked, “Dad, why are there so many people here?”

“Didn’t Lord Narsen already say? He gathered many freemen, almost five hundred of them.” Wood walked to the bed and lay down, thinking glumly, These people stayed behind with the lord to defend the fief and even built such a large camp. I wonder if we can still join the work point system? If I had known, I should have stayed by the lord’s side.

——————————————

Lilia lay, pliant and supple, on Victor’s body. After a good while, she opened her bright, charming eyes and murmured, “Victor, I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too.” Victor caressed the soft, delicate body in his arms and gently kissed Lilia’s lovely red lips.

Catching her breath after a moment, Lilia said apologetically, “Victor, only nine hundred and twenty-three people came back with me this time. Five hundred and seventy of them are able-bodied men, and the rest are women and children. Uncle John’s Goat Tavern was demolished, so they came along too, but they’re too afraid to see you.”

“Sister Nicole helped us get our warhorses and oxcarts back. In total, there are forty-five warhorses, seven packhorses, and thirty-two draft oxen. But on the way back, the road was washed out by the rain, so I had to abandon the carts by the roadside. I’m sorry, I was too useless.”

“Hehe, you did very well. I thought you’d only be able to bring back three or four hundred people. I certainly didn’t expect you to bring back the oxen and horses. This is a truly wonderful surprise.”

Seeing so many people return with Lilia, Victor felt a deep sense of relief and joy, like a lone traveler stumbling upon a caravan in the desert. Victor didn’t lack for labor at the moment; five of these ordinary farmers tied together couldn’t match a single Lithe Ape militiaman, and a Crouching Ox Militiaman was more capable than ten regular farmers combined. But being forced to live day in and day out with only these Alchemical humans would be unbearable for anyone. Narsen had complained before that these warriors were so wooden it was depressing, but he just assumed they were elite warriors trained from childhood by some major power. No one could have guessed that these people, who could talk and reason, eat and drink, and were made of flesh and blood, were born from the void element.

Only Victor knew they were not human in the truest sense. Alchemical humans were powerful and loyal, but they could not satisfy Victor’s emotional needs. As a natural human with social needs, Victor craved the recognition of his own kind—a recognition that had to be fulfilled by family, friends, lovers, subordinates, and even rivals.

Victor’s reason told him that alchemical creatures had always been tools, and he had to use these tools to get what he wanted. Otherwise, the Alchemy Tower would be meaningless to him. To lock himself away and play king of the mountain among Alchemical humans was the act of a madman or a recluse. Furthermore, there was a thought in Victor’s heart that he could not mention to anyone, one that made him desperately eager to acquire greater power and influence. He needed more followers—not thousands, but hundreds of thousands, or even millions.

“Victor, this wasn’t my achievement. It was all thanks to your work point system and Sister Nicole’s help,” Lilia said, shaking her head dejectedly.

Victor stared at Lilia’s beautiful face for a long while before saying softly, “Lilia, I told you, you are the most important thing.”

“Am I really that important?” Lilia asked, her face flushing red.

“Of course!” Victor said firmly.

With Lilia, Victor felt no pressure. Lilia wasn’t the most beautiful, nor the cleverest, nor did she possess great power. But she belonged to Victor, from her body to her heart, and that was what mattered most.

The next day, Victor stood on a platform in the square. His silvery-white double-plated armor gleamed under the sun. Lilia, in a snow-white dress, stood by his side, and behind them was a row of well-equipped Alchemical militia, making Victor appear noble and majestic.

“I, Victor Wimbledon, Viscount, a lord of the Kingdom of Gambia, held fast to my fief during the disaster caused by the Ant-men, covered the retreat of my people, and fulfilled my duty of protection as a lord. In accordance with the kingdom’s Pioneer Fief Act, I shall found a new family upon this land, the House of Randell. Henceforth, Victor’s fief is officially named the Randell Fief, and my name shall bear the suffix of Randell, making me Victor Wimbledon Randell.”

His clear voice carried on the breeze throughout the camp. Below the platform, the crowd erupted. A new surname, a new family—it represented a new power. And they, having witnessed this moment, would surely share in the glory of the new house.

“May the glory of the House of Randell last for eternity, never to be sullied.”

Victor smiled and accepted the people’s blessings. Only a Pioneer Lord could establish a new family; it was an honor, but also a challenge.

Pioneer Lords usually did not do this, as it meant renunciation. The original family had the right to initiate a family war against them—a small-scale, decisive battle conducted under the witness of the Kingdom and the Church. Only by winning the battle would the new family be truly established. If they lost, the fief would belong to the bloodline family, and the pioneer lord would lose his title and freedom, and sometimes even his life.

Victor did not have this problem. The Wimbledon family had long since fallen apart, its bloodline scattered across the various kingdoms. Therefore, the only person with the right to challenge Victor was one person: the Marchioness, Sophia Wimbledon. However, Sophia would not rally the Wimbledon nobles of Gambis to challenge her own husband. If she did so, she would lose her title as Marchioness, win or lose. Most importantly, Sophia had no chance of victory. As long as no Gold Knight was involved, Victor was confident he could crush any family.

The benefit of establishing a new family was that Victor gained maximum freedom in family matters. He no longer needed Sophia’s seal as a Marchioness and could independently grant investiture to his noble vassals.

Once the crowd quieted down, Victor spoke again. “Those loyal to me shall be rewarded. Narsen, come forth!”

Narsen, in his heavy armor, wore a solemn expression as he half-knelt before Victor and bowed his head.

“Narsen, are you willing to become my loyal retainer, with absolute loyalty from this day forward?”

Narsen replied, “I am.”

After confirming his willingness, Victor took Narsen’s hands in his—the joining of hands—and said, “Narsen, I hereby bestow upon you the surname of Randell and the title of lordship, along with three hundred square kilometers of land as your fief, to be hereditary in perpetuity.”

At this, Narsen offered his pledge of loyalty. “My sovereign, the most honorable Viscount Randell, I do solemnly swear to be your loyal retainer. I shall never bring shame upon the name of Randell, and I pledge you my unwavering and eternal loyalty. This I swear in all sincerity, without deceit.”

Narsen then leaned forward and kissed Victor’s sword—the kiss of fealty.

Victor planted his sharp Thorium longsword on the ground in front of Narsen. Narsen placed his hand on the blade and said, “My sovereign, the honorable Viscount Randell, I swear to you that I will faithfully protect your property and defend your rights, as a vassal is loyal to his lord. I shall willingly and strictly abide by the oath I have sworn, as I know and understand it. From this day forward, may your sword help and compel me to uphold this vow.”

Victor smiled and helped the emotional Narsen to his feet, gesturing for him to stand on his other side. He then shouted once more to the people below, “Lord Narsen Randell has earned my bestowal through his loyalty and valor, and so can you. I promise that all who have returned to the fief will be included in the work point system, and it will be open to no one else. When you have earned enough land, you will become my vassals. I also hope that many more among you can bear the name of Randell.”

The platform below fell silent for a moment, then erupted in an even greater cheer.

“Long live Viscount Randell!”

“Long live the House of Randell!”

Chapter 153: Farming and Raising Pigs

A gentle breeze swept across the hilltops, and the long blades of grass swayed in the wind. Three ox-carts pressed deep ruts into the grassland. On one of the carts, Narsen turned to Linda beside him and said, “Past these hills is the land my lord granted us. It has a lake, forests, a small river, and pastures. We can hunt and fish. You’ll definitely like it.”

Linda’s eyes were closed, and she was leaning lazily against Narsen’s broad shoulder, looking as if she were still half asleep. After a long moment, she said languidly, “The fief isn’t going anywhere. Did we really have to rush over here so early in the morning? My lord Victor is holding a round table meeting today.”

“It was Old John and the others,” Narsen said, embarrassed. “They couldn’t wait to come and see it. We’ll leave soon, we won’t be late for my lord’s business.”

Victor had granted Narsen three hundred square kilometers of land, and no one was more excited than the members of the War Bear Mercenaries. Narsen had been forcibly dragged from his bed before dawn by a dozen old mercenaries, all clamoring to see his new domain. He had no choice but to find three ox-carts and bring these disabled old soldiers out to see the scenery. But Narsen’s attempt to sound nonchalant only amused Linda.

“Oh, keep pretending. You didn’t have to come personally for something like this. You have so many men, you could have asked any of them to lead the way.”

Narsen chuckled. “You’re one to talk. It’s not like you haven’t been to this land before, but you still came as soon as I asked.”

Linda was momentarily speechless, then shot back in mock anger, pinching the soft flesh at his waist. The moment she applied pressure, her fingers were repelled by Narsen’s muscle. She couldn’t help but cry out, “There’s something moving under your clothes!”

Narsen scratched his head. After cultivating the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form, it felt as if every muscle in his body had come alive, and they would have this kind of natural reaction if he didn’t control them. Only by mastering the Mystic Form to the point where he could command it at will could he eliminate this phenomenon. But Victor had warned him never to mention his cultivation of the Mystic Form to anyone.

“How could there be anything? You must not have slept well. Here, lean on me and get some more rest,” Narsen coaxed her.

Giving Narsen a suspicious look, Linda obediently rested her head on her husband’s shoulder and closed her eyes to rest. A moment later, she said, “I still remember you telling me you’d become a Lord within thirty years. I can’t believe that only twelve years have passed, and you’ve actually done it.”

“Actually, that was just big talk to trick you into my arms. Back then, you were the prettiest girl in the mercenary company, and plenty of men had their eyes on you. I wasn’t nearly as strong as I am now. I never thought you’d be foolish enough to believe me. And now, you’ve foolishly become a Lady,” Narsen said with a proud grin.

“I don’t want to be your Lady,” Linda said faintly. “You should marry a noblewoman and have a brood of children with her. If your wife is willing, I’ll be your personal handmaiden. If she’s not, I’ll be your mistress.”

Becoming a lord was the limit of what a commoner could achieve. Attaining the title of lord was incredibly difficult; many Knights were merely lords themselves—Bruce, for example, had once been a landed lord—while apprentice knights were not even lords. For a commoner to receive this title was a monumental feat. Narsen’s strength was comparable to that of a powerful Knight, but he had never expected to truly become a lord, let alone a landed noble with a hereditary fief.

Although a lord was the lowest rank of nobility, it was still a title recognized by the kingdom. Narsen was now a true noble, and one who possessed a hereditary fief at that. As such, Narsen was qualified to marry a noblewoman. In fact, many ladies from fallen noble houses were willing to marry a landed lord, and even female apprentice knights with no hope of reaching the Bronze-rank were happy to make such a match. A hereditary fief of three hundred square kilometers was the maximum for a lord, commanding more respect than even a court baron.

As Linda said, a landed lord should marry a woman of a knight’s bloodline. Only then could the family flourish. Many new families were born this way. But Narsen was completely oblivious to Linda’s heartfelt concern. He said nonchalantly, “Marrying a noble lady is a job for our son. You just focus on being the honorable Lady Randall.”

“You big brute!” Linda’s eyes welled with tears as she twisted Narsen’s ear.

“What are you crying for? Being a Lord is no big deal. I’ll achieve even greater things in the future,” Narsen said dismissively.

“Ha! A Lord is no big deal? Are you going to become a Baron next?” Linda was so exasperated she had to laugh.

“I can’t explain it clearly, but I believe in Lord Victor. Mmm, Lord Victor isn’t like other nobles. His values are different. He doesn’t care about what others prize, and he prizes what others don’t. We just need to follow him,” Narsen replied.

“I didn’t realize you understood Lord Victor so well. Then tell me, what does he value?” Linda asked, her curiosity piqued.

Narsen thought for a moment and said, “My lord… values us.”

“Us?” Linda’s eyes darted around. She asked again, “Including those strange freemen? Did you really gather them yourself?”

“Absolutely,” Narsen said firmly, patting his chest.

“Hmph! All able-bodied men, without a single woman or child among them?”

“Under the circumstances, how could I take on burdens? I turned away any freemen with women and children,” Narsen said with a straight face.

Linda gazed at Narsen’s resolute face, then rested her head on his shoulder again. A smile touched her lips. Her husband might not be a brilliant man, but he was no fool.

A moment later, the ox-cart came to a halt. Narsen and Linda stood before a lake. It was neither large nor small, about six hundred mu in area. On the opposite shore were dense woods and rolling hills. It was early morning, and a thin mist drifted over the lake’s surface. The clouds in the sky and the green trees on the hills were faintly reflected on the water. The ripples were gentle, the sky was high, and the clouds were thin. Linda couldn’t help but take a deep breath.

“It’s beautiful.”

“The land here is fertile, and the water is plentiful, but there are just too many hills. We can probably clear over forty thousand mu of arable land along the lake and in the mountain gullies. The forests are vast, with plenty of high-quality timber, and lots of game and berries. I just don’t know if there are any mineral veins in the mountains. Mmm, I’ll need to send someone to scout for them,” Narsen said, full of pride and ambition.

“Once my lord’s fief is up and running, we can recruit our own subjects. Then the first thing we’ll do is build a villa on the lakeshore.” Narsen turned to his wife. “Linda, don’t drink that bluegrass soup anymore. Let’s have a few children. When they’re grown, I’ll take them hunting.”

The life of a mercenary was one of constant wandering and uncertainty, with no stability to raise a family. They had been together for years without children of their own, but things were different now. Linda nodded gently. “I’ll listen to you.”

“Haha, having kids is great!” Old John hobbled over on his prosthetic leg. Ignoring Linda’s embarrassed and annoyed glare, he continued, “You two have a few strong boys, and we old-timers will be responsible for drilling them hard.”

“Pah! In your dreams.” The thought of Old John training her son made Linda frantic, even though she wasn’t even pregnant yet.

“Seriously, Narsen my boy,” said the old mercenary, Iron Hook, stepping forward. “You’re a Lord now. We old-timers want to make a living under you. Just give us a bit of land, that’ll be enough.”

“What? Has Lord Victor treated you poorly? You are his vassals. To do this without his consent would be betrayal,” Narsen said with a smile.

Old John shook his head and sighed. “The Goat Tavern is gone. We cost my lord thousands of Gold Sols. We old wrecks don’t have the face to be Lord Victor’s vassals anymore. We’ll just return the land. If it makes things difficult for you, we’ll just become subjects under Lord Victor.”

These old guys are still so proud, Narsen thought. But then, they wouldn’t have become mercenaries if they weren’t. Out loud, he said, “It’s not that simple! Not only did he lose thousands of Gold Sols, but the York family also poached the two master chefs. You lot should just go and work for my lord obediently.”

The dozen old mercenaries looked at each other. One of them couldn’t help but ask, “We don’t know how to farm. What work could we do?”

“Heh heh, whatever it is, it won’t be an easy ride for you old-timers. When you get back, go find Baritt. He’ll give you your assignments.” Narsen scooped Linda up and took off at a run, shouting back as he went, “We’re leaving first! Remember to find Baritt!”

In the blink of an eye, Narsen had vanished, leaving only the sound of Linda’s laughter echoing by the lake.

“That Narsen kid,” Old John grumbled resentfully. “He didn’t even finish what he was saying and ran off faster than a rabbit.”

When Narsen and Linda walked into the meeting room, it was already full. Though it was a round table, the seat Victor occupied was clearly the head. Lilia was on his left, and the two empty seats to his right were for Narsen and Linda. Further down were Moline, Bansen, Butz, Dean, Fero, Kent, and George—all of Victor’s village group leaders. Among them, Bansen and Butz had both been previously dismissed from their posts but had been reinstated to the leadership ranks after completing Victor’s mission to gather the mountain folk.

After Narsen and Linda were seated, Victor began, “Everyone is here, so let’s get straight to the point. Lilia, please report on the current state of the fief.”

“Yes,” Lilia said, her voice like a songbird’s. “Our current population is one thousand four hundred and ninety-five people. This includes five hundred and seventy-two freemen gathered by Lord Narsen, five hundred and seventy members of the work point system, and three hundred and fifty-three women and children. In the camp, we have one hundred and twenty thousand pounds of wheat seed, two hundred and forty thousand pounds of ground-potatoes, ten thousand pounds of salt, two hundred sheep, seventy oxen, forty dairy cows, thirty-five warhorses, and seven packhorses. That is all.”

“Good. We have a total of one thousand one hundred and forty-two able-bodied men. So, Narsen, Linda, how many people do you need?” Victor asked the pair.

Narsen’s eyes lit up, and he quickly said, “My lord, at least one hundred and fifty men.”

“That’s too many. I can give you one hundred at most, and they must be selected from among the subjects,” Victor flatly refused Narsen’s request.

The Alchemical militia possessed strength comparable to apprentice knights. With several hundred of them, the fief’s security was not an issue. The only reason to re-establish the guard was to train qualified military officers.

Victor then addressed the village group leaders. “I will assign one hundred people to each of your villager groups, again giving priority to members of the work point system. You have only one task: to reclaim farmland. I have other uses for the remaining freemen.”

Dean asked nervously, “My lord, shouldn’t Brick Kiln Village resume production?”

“I have arrangements for Brick Kiln Village, Carpenter Village, Flax Village, and even Hill Camp,” Victor said, shaking his head. “We must concentrate our efforts on reclaiming twenty thousand mu of farmland and planting all of it with crops during the Season of Water.”

Moline cleared his throat and said, “My lord, we don’t have enough seeds. Twenty thousand mu of farmland will require at least one million pounds of wheat seed.”

Victor nodded. “I know. Plant as much wheat as you can with the seeds we have. Plant the rest of the land with ground-potatoes.”

“All with ground-potatoes? My lord, shouldn’t we plant some fodder like alfalfa? The water supply here is abundant. With diligent irrigation, fodder would grow quickly and be perfect for raising cattle, sheep, and horses. Besides, with so few people, we don’t need that many ground-potatoes,” said George, a village group leader.

Victor’s tone turned severe. “I am a Viscount with a vast territory, yet I have just over one thousand subjects, fewer than a barony. Do you think I will be satisfied with such a small population? During this Ant-man plague, the lords in the west of the kingdom have lost a great deal of their harvest. For the next two to three years, grain will be in short supply, which will likely lead to a tide of refugees. Therefore, we need more food! As long as we have enough food, we can take in more refugees.”

“Ground-potatoes can serve as rations, and their leaves, like fodder, will grow back after being cut. Though cattle, sheep, and horses won’t eat ground-potato leaves, wild boars will!”

The people of this world only raised cattle, sheep, and horses, not wild boars. For one thing, the economic value of wild boars was far lower than that of livestock; apart from meat and fat, they produced no milk, and their hides were worthless. For another, wild boars were omnivorous, reproduced quickly, had fierce temperaments, and were abundant in the wild without any need for husbandry. Due to the lack of large-scale irrigation, humanity’s arable land was limited. Even in a well-developed human territory, the area of wilderness far exceeded the area of farmland, giving ample space for wild boars, beasts, and monsters to thrive. To prevent livestock from being preyed upon, people planted fodder and raised them in enclosures near their villages. As for wild boars, they were a target for human hunters; in fact, many nobles took pleasure in hunting them.

However, Victor saw the advantages of wild boars. They ate almost anything, including the ground-potato leaves that cattle and sheep refused. Wild boars grew very quickly; a year of raising one could yield several hundred pounds of meat and lard. Their manure was also an excellent fertilizer.

After the Ant-man plague, Victor’s fief had over a million mu of vacant land, perfect for planting fodder and grazing livestock. The large predators in the fief had already been wiped out by the Alchemical Warhounds, leaving wild boars as the only real competitors for food with his cattle and sheep. With several hundred Alchemical militiamen, Victor’s control over his territory was unparalleled. That was why Victor planned to plant ground-potatoes, raise wild boars in pens, and pasture his livestock.

In truth, with the resources from his fief, the mountains, and the lake alone, Victor could support more than three thousand people. But that was far from enough. Victor needed more people, at least enough to meet the minimum standard for a viscounty, which was ten thousand or more. Following the conventional development model, this would take over twenty years. By taking advantage of the famine caused by the Ant-man plague, Victor believed he could achieve this goal in two to three years. Before that, he needed an abundant supply of rations, and ground-potatoes and wild boars could solve this problem.

Therefore, Victor had redesigned his entire agricultural production system. Foraging, hunting, and fishing would meet short-term needs. Planting ground-potatoes and raising wild boars would meet medium-term needs. Planting wheat and grazing livestock would meet medium-to-long-term needs. Victor believed that once this system was established, the population his fief could support would far exceed that of an ordinary viscounty.

“I will arrange for the freemen to fish, hunt, and gather wild fruit to meet our daily needs. Your job is to focus on farming and raising pigs!”

Chapter 154: Integration

“With our current shortage of manpower, we must first concentrate our efforts on getting this done.”

With these words, Victor concluded the first round table meeting after the Ant-man plague. During the meeting, Victor clarified everyone’s duties and assigned them their personnel.

Narsen was to command the House of Randell’s guard detachment. In addition to the War Bear members and the surviving guards, the detachment was reinforced and now numbered one hundred men. Compared to the Alchemical militia, the combat strength of these guards was simply abysmal, but they shared a common characteristic: they were all ordinary men with families. Victor was, in fact, training these ordinary men to be the backbone of an army. Besides practicing martial skills and honing their fighting spirit, their primary study was how to handle complex and ever-changing local battles. Therefore, their sense of belonging and loyalty were of utmost importance.

Victor, however, assigned ten Lithe Ape militiamen to Magistrate Linda. This was certainly to protect Linda, but it was also meant to diminish her influence. If Linda’s subordinates were all ordinary people, they would inevitably be influenced by their superior and grow even closer to Narsen’s family, a development Victor did not wish to see. As the territory’s population grew, the magistrate’s authority would expand, and she might even have to handle some unsavory matters. Victor was beginning to consider reclaiming judicial power.

Narsen and Lilia held positions of great power and influence. The House of Randell needed figures to act as a check and balance against them. This was not a question of loyalty, but of organizational health. Once the territory’s population reached a certain scale, sycophantic opportunists would inevitably gather around Narsen, bullying others with borrowed power and even harming the interests of the domain. Victor would then need a buffer to punish these petty individuals, and the magistrate was a perfect fit for that role. This was also to protect the relationship between Victor and Narsen, which was why Linda had to step down. Linda was now a Lady, and she had an obligation to bear Narsen an heir. As soon as she became pregnant, Victor would replace her. As for a candidate for the magistrate position, Victor hadn’t found a suitable one yet.

The seven village group leaders, each leading one hundred people, were responsible for reclaiming land, farming, and raising pigs. For now, they could only be concentrated at the Lake Camp, but in the future, they would become the village or town heads of the territory.

Then there was Instructor Baritt, who was responsible for training the guards and militia. All adult male subjects were required to undergo militia training so that they would at least have the ability to defend their homes when facing monsters and invaders.

On the surface, Baritt was Narsen’s subordinate, but in reality, like the spy Barol, he answered only to Victor. Both were high-ranking members of the smuggling Merchant Association’s network. Victor held Baritt in high regard. The Alchemical militia also had to train under Baritt. Although their strength far surpassed the old mercenary’s, training together would help the Alchemical militia integrate with ordinary people. With Baritt, the Alchemical militia would learn how to cooperate with common folk, including a series of coordinated combat techniques like providing cover, rearguard actions, retreating, luring the enemy, relaying messages, and standing watch. In turn, the Alchemical militia would provide Baritt with wilderness survival skills such as treating wounds, preparing herbal remedies, stealth, and setting traps. As per Victor’s instructions, Baritt was currently compiling a mercenary company combat manual.

After everyone else had left, Victor said to Lilia, “Lilia, are you very curious as to why I have so many freemen under my command?”

Lilia gave Victor a sweet smile and shook her head gently.

Victor continued, “The situation is a bit complicated. You just need to know that I inherited the legacy of a certain great personage. Those men are actually elite warriors trained by him, and they now obey my orders.”

“Although I inherited the great personage’s legacy, I may have also inherited his enemies. Even I am not entirely clear on the details, but there’s no such thing as a free lunch. Therefore, the fewer people who know about this, the better. Right now, only Narsen and you know this secret.”

“Victor, will you be in danger?” Lilia asked with concern, then added dejectedly, “Actually, you don’t have to explain this to me.”

A warmth spread through Victor’s heart. Lilia hadn’t grown arrogant from his favor; instead, she strictly adhered to her duties as a personal handmaiden, never asking what she shouldn’t or saying what she shouldn’t. But Victor couldn’t cover everyone’s eyes or stop their mouths. Once rumors spread, they would attract unnecessary trouble. Although Victor no longer needed to worry about the covetous eyes of other lords, it didn’t mean he was willing to have trouble.

“I’m just saying there might be danger, but whether such an enemy exists or not, we must make the appropriate preparations. That’s why I need your help,” Victor said.

Lilia’s eyes lit up. “Victor, can I help you? What do you need me to do?” she asked.

“It’s simple. Act naturally,” Victor said, then explained, “A single sheep that strays from the flock will be exposed to the eyes of a hungry wolf. It’s the same for us. Only by integrating these elite warriors among a larger population can we avoid attracting the attention of others.”

“The subjects aren’t blind. In time, they’ll notice that these people are different. But they revere me, so they won’t come to me for confirmation. Instead, they will observe your actions and try to guess your thoughts. As long as you remain composed, they will be at ease. For example, Kahn is a guard I sent to protect you, but you are too polite to him. In the eyes of an observant person, this will lead to unnecessary speculation and rumors. Similarly, while those elite warriors are my men, you show them a veiled respect, and that’s very bad! No upper-class man would be polite to a freeman.”

“That’s because I didn’t know about their relationship with you. And Kahn is very powerful; I felt I should respect him. I didn’t want to cause you any trouble,” Lilia said, aggrieved.

“This is precisely why I had to tell you,” Victor said with a sigh. “Lilia, I’m telling you explicitly, your status is far above these soldiers. What you need to do is treat them as actual freemen.”

“Mm, I understand what to do now,” Lilia said, nodding forcefully and smiling with pressed lips.

What Victor told Lilia was half-truth, half-lie. But regardless, the strategy of integrating the Alchemical humans with his subjects was beneficial and harmless. By Victor’s estimate, after the Ant-man plague, he would have at least a thousand Alchemical humans. Half would remain in the mountains to gather resources, while the rest would help Victor control the territory and the smuggling Merchant Association. It was impossible for these Alchemical humans to be isolated from the outside world. Victor had to plan ahead and conceal the special nature of his alchemical creatures as much as possible.

Then, Victor gave another instruction. “Lilia, I’ve set up many experimental workshops in Hill Camp. Purple Cane wine, raw sugar, and Snow Sugar will also be produced there. Send out a notice that no one is allowed to go to Hill Camp to pry without my permission. Anyone discovered doing so will be treated as a spy.”

“Yes, I’ll see to it at once,” Lilia replied with a nod.

“Don’t be in such a hurry to leave. There are two more things I need to entrust to you.” Victor stopped Lilia, saying, “I want you to organize the women to do the laundry, cook, clean the camp, and weave clothes. I will allow you to award them work points as payment, but the women’s work points will be credited to their husbands’ names. You can devise the specific method yourself, and you may also select a few helpers from among the women.”

“Victor, you… you’re saying women can be part of the work point system?” Lilia stammered.

Ordinary peasant women worked no less than men in the fields and also had to care for their children and husbands. But in this world of monsters, women without combat ability could only rely on their men to gain social status. It could be said they were complete appendages of men. A lord would not grant any status to an ordinary woman; if her husband was a vassal, she was a vassal’s wife, if he was a freeman, she was a freeman’s wife. Their work was purely for their own families, and the lord would not give them any compensation. Victor had no intention of raising the social status of ordinary women, but he couldn’t ignore the role women played in the family. The influence of pillow talk, the intelligence revealed in household gossip, influencing children’s loyalty to the lord, spreading favorable rumors about the lord—the benefits were simply too numerous. Increasing Lilia’s influence among the women would help Victor control the hearts and minds of his people.

“It’s not about letting women join the work point system, but letting them earn work points for their families. Of course, none of that is the main point. You’ll need to think about the pros and cons yourself,” Victor said, affecting an air of mystery.

Lilia nodded, still slightly bewildered.

“The second thing,” Victor paused for a long time, his gaze growing deep and solemn, before he finally said, “All children above the age of six and below eighteen must be gathered together to be taught literacy and arithmetic. This is mandatory and must be enforced.”

Victor had finally made up his mind to implement universal education in his territory. This was the first step in changing human ideology and a vital part of his grand strategy. If Victor wanted to fully utilize the power of ordinary people, he had to unlock their potential, and implementing universal education was the inevitable choice.

The benefits of education were self-evident, but spreading knowledge and values among ordinary people would shake the existing social system and was bound to meet with a backlash. It was hard to predict how a behemoth like the Church would react.

Victor couldn’t worry about that anymore. Ever since he transmigrated, many things had been strange. First, there was the Wizard’s assassination attempt, which caused him to drift to this territory and thus unlock the Alchemy Tower. After learning of the existence of the Devils and the Lord of Radiance, Victor became wary of the Alchemy Tower and had planned to use the Alchemical Empire’s legacy with restraint. But an Ant-man plague had forced him to fully unleash the Alchemy Tower’s power, because if he didn’t, the Ant-men would have killed him, one hundred percent. This was no longer a coincidence. Victor clearly felt an unseen force pushing him forward.

Victor didn’t know what he would ultimately have to face. The worst-case scenario was an enemy of the Alchemical Empire, but that wasn’t an opponent Victor could deal with at present. So, he desperately wanted to expand his own power, even if it meant he wouldn’t hesitate to challenge the old order. If not for this reason, Victor would much rather be a quiet little lord, enjoying good food and beautiful women, hunting and fishing. That was far more comfortable than challenging the whole world.

Consolidating humanity’s resources was already a consensus among the Church and the lords, but by their methods, it would likely take several hundred more years before they could establish a unified human empire. Victor, however, knew that besides war, trade could also consolidate human resources, and in a more subtle and harmless way. But changing ideology… that was truly dangerous. It could shake the very foundations of the Church, and the Church was a power Victor also wished to rally.

Of course, the conflict between enlightening the masses and keeping them ignorant was not without a solution. Establishing joint schools with the Church could solve this problem. However, Victor didn’t have any specific ideas yet. Though he hadn’t found a breakthrough, it couldn’t halt his advance.

Heaven knows when the crisis will arrive.

Victor shook his head, pushing the anxiety from his mind. He said, “Send an envoy to the Kingdom’s Senate and the Church to announce the establishment of the House of Randell.”

Chapter 155: The Erring Yellow Goat

On a low hill dozens of meters high in the Centaur Hills, during the third month of the Season of Wind, two beautiful figures stood side by side. Below them, the half-meter-tall wind-thatch grass shimmered gold. As it rippled in the wind, fiery red sea buckthorn berries, green wild peas, and white cattail down appeared and disappeared within the meadow. The blue sky, white clouds, vibrant earth, and rolling hills formed a breathtaking landscape.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Sylvia said softly, gazing at the endless stretch of wind-thatch below the hill.

Trisley furrowed her lovely brows. Black Fortress Town’s precarious food reserves left her in no mood to appreciate the scenery before her. She simply sighed, “If this were a field of golden wheat, I would also find it beautiful.”

Sylvia smiled without a word. Victor called the wind-thatch Goldsilk Grass, and after processing, it was an important material for making rock bricks. Its value was far greater than that of wheat.

Knights and castles were the two cornerstones of a family’s rule over their domain. In the long history of the great families, there might be generational gaps in high-level knights, so a magnificent fortress town was the guarantee of a family’s continuation. However, building a fortress was no easy task for any family. The York family had mobilized tens of thousands of laborers and spent four years, yet the two auxiliary forts of Black Fortress Town were still not complete. This showed just how difficult construction was. The quarrying, transportation, and polishing of stone alone consumed enormous manpower and a vast amount of time, and that was before even securing a sufficient stone quarry.

Rock bricks solved all these problems. Their quality was on par with limestone, and as long as a brick kiln was built in a suitable location, transportation distance could be minimized. Rock bricks were already the standard shape for building castles and required no polishing, saving a great deal of labor. With rock bricks, Sylvia could almost see a magnificent city rising from the ground. And according to Victor, rock bricks could also be a powerful tool in the family’s diplomacy. Whenever she thought of this, Sylvia was overjoyed. But the formula for rock bricks had to be kept secret, so she couldn’t explain the use of the wind-thatch to Trisley.

“Why aren’t you guarding Black Fortress Town? What are you doing here with me?” Sylvia asked lightly.

Trisley nodded. “There are two things. Your paramour has established the House of Randell. His envoy is on the way to the Royal Capital.”

“The House of Randell? I didn’t think Victor would take this step so quickly. It seems he’s finally broken free from Sophia’s hold… That’s rather surprising. I thought it would take him several years to understand that passion is merely an embellishment in a lord’s life,” Sylvia said, gratified.

Trisley was silent for a moment before asking, “Sylvia, have you ever considered that Victor might have someone else behind him? Otherwise, how could he have so many strange ideas and inventions?”

“I’ve thought about it and investigated Victor’s father, his brother, his life in the Royal Capital, and his experiences in the Centaur Hills. There was nothing amiss. The only explanation is what he said: the old Marquess Wimbledon’s notes. But I can’t possibly ask Sophia to confirm this. After all, we’re the biggest beneficiaries,” Sylvia said softly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“What if Victor is lying?” Trisley pressed, unwilling to let it go.

“You might as well just say I’ve been bewitched by Victor,” Sylvia giggled.

Trisley blushed and said resentfully, “It’s not impossible… Isn’t Nicole the best example? She actually threatened Max over a few hundred lowly peasants, just because they were Victor’s subjects.”

“How dare you compare me to that little girl Nicole,” Sylvia rolled her eyes and said helplessly. “Alright, let me explain. The possibility of someone pulling Victor’s strings is very small. After he became a lord, he made repeated mistakes. First, there was the problem with the refugees from Flatlake Village, then the issue with the work point system, and also the matter of selling coffee and Snow Sugar. These amateur mistakes all indicate that there can’t be someone directing him from behind. The only reason you have such suspicions is because you’re unwilling to believe that people like him, geniuses, exist.”

“A genius? A genius who constantly makes mistakes?”

“Geniuses make mistakes, mediocrities don’t. That’s what Uncle Edwen said, and I now deeply agree.” Sylvia shook her head and sighed. “Uncle Edwen also said that people like us are like yellow goats, always walking the same path, never daring to transgress, and as a result, the path gets narrower and narrower. Luckily, there are some fledgling yellow goats who will try different paths. The unlucky ones get eaten by beasts, the lucky ones find new pastures. How did the Seven Great Islands of the Kingdom of Borea come to be? Waging war against the Fishmen was an unprecedented act. If they had failed, the Five Great Families wouldn’t exist, but they succeeded. Can you say that Baron Asheribor, who originally proposed the war against the Fishmen, wasn’t a genius?”

“Uncle Edwen actually compared us to stupid yellow goats?” Trisley pouted, then stared at Sylvia. “Then why did you leave Victor out there all by himself? Aren’t you afraid something will go wrong?”

“Then what would you have me do? Keep him in Black Fortress Town and turn him into a yellow goat just like us?” Sylvia retorted.

Trisley was taken aback for a moment, then smiled wryly. “I… I really am a yellow goat. You’re certainly bold… Victor holds the secret to the rock bricks.”

“I’ve already sent word. Whoever dares touch my Victor, I’ll run them through!” Sylvia said proudly, patting her Mithril longspear.

“Don’t worry, Victor is very smart. He won’t pledge allegiance to any other family. We’re his best choice because I’ll give him room to grow. And I’m also looking forward to him leading us to even richer pastures.”

As she spoke, a shrill shriek came from the distance. Sylvia smiled, “It seems Bruce and the others were successful. That should be the one hundred twelfth Ant-man chief we’ve killed.”

With Ash Falcon’s help, Sylvia and six Great Knights had intercepted all the retreating Ant-man chiefs. Now, only about six thousand Ant-men were left besieging Black Fortress Town, a number that was no longer a major threat. Sylvia asked, “Has Black Fortress Town started to resume production?”

Trisley nodded. “Yes, the Intendant has already started organizing the subjects to repair the roads and prepare the farmlands to the south. But we don’t have much food, enough for only another ten days. Duke Nimes is no longer able to continue supplying us. The kingdom did send a shipment of grain, but the problem is they didn’t set aside any seeds for us.”

“How large is the shortfall?” Sylvia asked coolly.

“Twenty million pounds.”

“Where is Sophia’s caravan?”

“That’s the second thing I needed to tell you,” Trisley said, her expression ugly. “Sophia’s caravan has been detained in Redleaf Town by the Swift Dragon Knights.”

“Golan is getting more and more shameless in his old age!”

Sylvia was truly furious. According to her agreement with Sophia, Sophia was to sell a batch of grain and seeds to the York family. Although it couldn’t satisfy the needs of one hundred and twenty thousand people for a year all at once, it could solve the urgent crisis. The most critical part was the twenty million pounds of seeds. With those seeds, the family would only need to tighten their belts for three years before they could become self-sufficient.

By seizing these seeds, Marquess Golan was ensuring the York family would have to rely on external food supplies for years to come. This was something Sylvia would absolutely not tolerate.

Before long, three Great Knights, having dealt with the Ant-man chief, arrived at the low hill where Sylvia was. Sylvia gave an order to Bruce, who was among them. “Bruce, return to Black Fortress Town and deliver five hundred thousand pounds of seeds to Victor. While you’re there, see how he manages his territory, then apply his methods to your own.”

“As you wish, Your Highness,” Bruce said respectfully.

“Trisley, you three will remain here and continue to intercept the Ant-man chiefs. I’m going to see Marquess Golan,” Sylvia said as she mounted her horse. Surrounded by her personal guards, she galloped toward Redleaf Town.

The Black River ran through the Centaur Hills. Although it was a shallow river, its twenty-odd-meter width was an obstacle that caravans could not easily cross. A stone bridge connected Black Fortress Town to the kingdom’s western territories. Thus, Redleaf Town, being closest to the stone bridge, became a town one must pass through to reach Black Fortress.

The Swift Dragon Knights were stationed in Redleaf Town. As the most famous knightly order in the Kingdom of Gambia, it boasted seven Great Knights and thirty-five Knights, all under the command of the Gold Knight, Marquess Golan. The Swift Dragon Knights had only ever been defeated once, at the hands of the legendary Knight Neowist. Today, they were about to face another challenge.

Marquess Golan’s mood was somewhat complex. The peerless beauty before him was about the same age as his granddaughter, yet she was the renowned Spirit Knight. Originally, she should have been a pillar of the kingdom, but now she had become a grave concern. The feeling of it all made Golan sigh with deep emotion.

“Sylvia, we haven’t seen each other in three years.”

“It’s been three years and seventy-four days, My Lord Golan.” Sylvia curtsied to the Marquess. Golan had once protected the Kingdom of Gambia by himself for over a decade. For that alone, Sylvia had to show him respect.

Golan nodded and sighed, “To think so many years have passed without us noticing. The scene of us fighting side-by-side is still vivid in my mind. I never thought our relationship would become so tense.”

Sylvia was silent for a moment before asking, “Has our York family ever betrayed Gambis?”

Golan shook his head bitterly. From beginning to end, there was nothing the York family could be accused of. On the contrary, the Auguste family had been repeatedly aggressive. But the reality was that the York family was growing stronger while the Auguste family had suffered setbacks. Golan had never been able to figure out why.

“Then there’s nothing more to say. Take your knightly order and leave Redleaf Town now, or I will see you to your grave right here,” Sylvia’s tone was flat, but her almost tangible spiritual power struck heavily at the hearts of every Swift Dragon Knight, and a solemn and oppressive atmosphere arose spontaneously.

Golan’s hand on his sword hilt tightened, then loosened, then tightened again. Finally, he removed his hand from the hilt and said in a low voice, “Sylvia, I lured you here to discuss a matter with you.”

“Someone is plotting against Roland.”

Chapter 156: The Hidden Hand

“She won’t marry! She won’t inherit the throne! What kind of princess is this? What kind of Princess Royal is this?!”

A hand with bulging veins crumpled the amethyst-and-gold cup, a symbol of royal authority, into a twisted lump. After being thrown to the floor, it was viciously stomped into a golden disc by a combat boot.

An incredibly hard blue diamond shot out from under the boot, rolling to a stop at the feet of Duke Ludwig. This Gold Knight of the Dodor Kingdom emotionlessly crushed the diamond, worth three thousand Gold Sols, into powder. His mood was exactly the same as the furious King’s, like a cornered beast surrounded by hunters.

The matter had stemmed from an unpublicized piece of news: Emperor Friedrich of the Sasan Empire intended to propose a marriage between his crown prince, Siegfried, and Roland Auguste, the Princess Royal of Gambis. Upon receiving this news, His Majesty King Friedrich of Dodor had urgently summoned the kingdom’s three Gold Knights to discuss countermeasures.

After understanding the basic situation, everyone felt the matter was extremely tricky.

Duke Ludwig lowered his gaze and said coolly, “The Auguste family has a certain trait: any descendant of prodigious talent is also romantic and willful. Roland is like this, and so was her father, Ryan. No high-ranking king would marry the daughter of a mere lordship as his queen, but Ryan did just that. Therefore, I’m not surprised by any of Roland’s unconventional actions. Your Majesty, let’s first discuss this baffling news.”

Friedrich reined in his anger and said in a grave voice, “According to our spies, Emperor Friedrich is discussing this matter with the high nobles of Sasan. The Emperor’s intention is that as long as Roland is willing to marry the Imperial Crown Prince, he will abdicate. The Crown Prince will inherit the imperial throne, with Roland as the Empress. From then on, the Sasan Empire will focus all its efforts on expanding east, no longer infringing upon the three kingdoms. Although the final decision has not yet been made, the Church seems to welcome Emperor Friedrich’s proposal. Your Highnesses, tell me, what impact will this have on us, the Dodor Kingdom?”

“Utterly disastrous!” Gold Knight Dietrich slapped his own shiny, bald head. “The Sasan Empire is currently at war with the centaur tribes of the Eastern Wildlands, Gambis is still recovering from the Ant-man plague and must also guard against Neowist, and the Queen of Roses is busy developing the Centaur Hills. This should have been our chance! To the north, we could have seized the opportunity to reclaim the Great Plains. To the south, we could have at least occupied a large swath of territory from Gambis. Now, this plan is completely bankrupt.”

The King of Dodor let out a breath. “Be more specific.”

“Your Majesty, the key lies in Gambis’s attitude. If Gambis agrees to the Sasan Empire’s marriage proposal, we can only surrender to them,” Duenkel said respectfully.

For a long time, the three kingdoms of Dodor, Gambis, and Naville had to band together to resist the Sasan Empire. Once Gambis threw itself into the Sasan Empire’s arms, the remaining two kingdoms would be unable to protect themselves. The Dodor Kingdom, in particular, would be caught in a pincer attack. If they didn’t surrender then, even the Kingdom of Naville might attack Dodor to show its loyalty to the Sasan Empire.

The King of Dodor nodded. “Lord Duenkel, please continue.”

“The other scenario is that Gambis refuses the marriage alliance. In that case, we can only choose to march north and seize the Twelve Holy Cities. Our southern strategy was based on Gambis being embroiled in internal strife with no external support, forcing them to compromise with us. Of course, we must first confirm whether the Queen of Roses will stand idly by. However, judging by her firm hold on the Centaur Hills, the York family clearly has no intention of being drawn into the vortex of war. This much can be basically confirmed. But the Auguste family now has an alternative. If we continue to press south, we will inevitably force Gambis to seek refuge with the Sasan Empire. At that point, the Queen of Roses will also step in to kick us while we’re down, in order to secure a higher position in the new order. In truth, as soon as Gambis agrees to the marriage alliance, the lords of Gambis will immediately become a solid, unified block. They would still be the strongest of the three kingdoms.”

“Your Majesty, if I were to state with certainty that Roland will absolutely not marry the Sasan Crown Prince, would you choose to launch a northern expedition?”

“Unless Roland marries someone or ascends the throne, I will never choose to march north!” the King of Dodor said, his face ashen.

Even knowing that Roland would likely refuse the marriage, the King of Dodor dared not take the risk. What if Gambis refused on the surface but agreed in secret? In the King’s view, this was not an impossibility. The terms offered by Emperor Friedrich were simply too tempting; it was tantamount to handing over half the empire to the Auguste family. Moreover, the Sasan Crown Prince, Siegfried, was not even a Great Knight. If Roland married him, she would be the Sasan Empress in name, but the Sasan Emperor in practice.

The King and the three Gold Knights fell into a long, contemplative silence. Duke Ludwig broke the suffocating quiet with a long sigh.

“The person who came up with this idea is truly terrifying! The Sassans know full well that Roland looks down on Siegfried, which is why they made such an irresistible offer. While the Sasan Empire is unable to turn its attention south, we are forced to be wary of Gambis. We can neither march north to reclaim our strategic depth nor press south to annex parts of Gambis and strengthen ourselves. Most frightening of all, once this seed of suspicion has been planted, will we dare to fight alongside the knights of Gambis when the Sasan Empire’s crisis is over? When that time comes, how will we resist the Sasan Empire? On the surface, the Sassans promise not to march south if the marriage succeeds. But I am certain that if the marriage does succeed, Gambis will definitely take the opportunity to march north. Regardless of whether we can defeat Gambis, the Sasan Empire will have an excuse to tear up their promise, or just sit back and watch the show. Brilliant! Truly brilliant! Without deploying a single soldier, just one unconfirmed piece of news has made us the biggest losers. And there’s not a single thing we can do about it.”

The King of Dodor asked in a hoarse voice, “How will our eastern neighbor react?”

“The Kingdom of Naville has a very good relationship with His Holiness the Pope. No matter what internal conflicts the Church may have, the Pope and the Paladins are united on the issue of the beastmen. Right now, the Kingdom of Naville is cooperating with the Sasan Empire to jointly resist the centaur tribes of the Northern Wildlands. On this point alone, Naville can stay out of it,” Dietrich said with a shake of his head and a sigh.

The King of Dodor closed his eyes and pondered for a moment before speaking. “The root of this matter is Ryan’s death! If Ryan hadn’t died, this situation would never have arisen. He would have simply torn the marriage proposal to shreds and thrown it in the Sasan envoy’s face. It seems now that Ryan’s death was definitely engineered by the Sassans. What would happen if we told Roland this?”

Ludwig said coldly, “Your Majesty, although we were not the primary instigators in Ryan’s matter, we were still involved. And even if Roland declared she wanted to avenge Ryan, could we trust her? In my opinion, the best way for her to get revenge would be to become the Empress of the Sasan Empire and then slowly settle all accounts, which would inevitably include us.”

The King of Dodor felt a chill run through him, as if he had been plunged into an ice cellar. He did not hear another word of the subsequent discussion. In the end, the meeting concluded without any resolution.

After the three Gold Knights had left, the King of Dodor sat on his throne for a long time. It was not until the last rays of the sun faded that he spoke. “Jens. Are you there?”

“Your Majesty, I have been here all along,” a shrill voice echoed in the vast, empty hall as a figure completely shrouded in a cloak emerged from the shadows.

“Hehehe, I was such a fool. After Ryan died, I even held a secret banquet to celebrate. Now, I’m about to suffer the same fate… no, I’m even worse off than him. At least the Auguste family can maintain its prominent status in the new empire, while our Friedrich family will be torn apart. And I brought all of this upon myself.” The King of Dodor’s laugh was as wretched as a cry.

“Your Majesty, as Lord Ludwig said, the person pulling the strings from the shadows is truly terrifying. He has used everyone: Your Majesty, Neowist, Sylvia, Ryan, Roland, Williams, and even His Majesty King Rex of Naville. The depth of his schemes is frightening, and he is intimately familiar with each of your personalities. It’s simply incredible. I seem to smell one of my own kind!” said Jens from the shadows in his shrill voice.

“How is that possible? The Sasan Empire was propped up by Paladin families. How could they dare to harbor a Wizard?! Even if the Paladins’ faith isn’t absolute, they would never work with a Wizard! Otherwise, they would lose the grace of their holy power! Ryan’s death must have been planned by the Paladins; they have a wicked history of assassinating secular emperors,” the King of Dodor said in a low voice.

“Your Majesty, the three kingdoms have always been wary of the Paladin families. How could they have gained such a deep understanding of each of your personalities? At your command, I have investigated this matter for a long time. The starting point of the scheme seems to be the Battle of Whitewater Fortress, which was eight years ago. At that time, Roland was not even a Gold Knight! The Church’s Paladins don’t have the ability to see the future.”

The King of Dodor sighed deeply. “It’s too late to talk about this now. Do you have any countermeasures?”

“Your Majesty, you could be the first to surrender to the Sasan Empire.”

“Enough! The Dodor Kingdom has endured for three hundred and seventy-four years, and now a single unconfirmed report is supposed to make me hand my kingdom over to the Sassans? This is preposterous!” the King of Dodor roared.

“Your Majesty, I am merely reminding you that surrender is one avenue of retreat. Before choosing that path, there are still many things you can do. For example, you could push Roland to marry,” Jens explained.

“Marry! She looks down on even Gold Knights, what can I possibly do?! It’s laughable, really. The fate of my Dodor Kingdom is in the hands of a little girl, and I can only stand by and watch. And that Andre is a good-for-nothing, can’t even pursue a woman! Acting so high and mighty all day, doesn’t he know he should be coaxing Roland?!” After his tirade, the King of Dodor sighed again. “It’s a solution, I suppose. It’s worth a try. I’ll find more men to pursue Roland, I just fear time is not on our side. Do you have any other countermeasures?”

“Your Majesty, in that case, let her die,” Jens said coldly.

“A foolish idea. Only a Gold Knight can assassinate a Gold Knight. I can’t very well order one of my kingdom’s Gold Knights to go on a suicide mission!”

“Your Majesty, we don’t need to assassinate Roland ourselves. We only need to instigate a civil war between the Queen of Roses and the Auguste family. Regardless of whether Roland dies, you can ally with the Queen of Roses to quickly annex Gambis, thereby gaining the capital to stand against the Sasan Empire. If the Sasan Empire suffers a major blow in the Northern Wildlands, we might even replace them. This is our only chance to turn defeat into victory. And even if we fail, we still have the option of surrendering to the Sasan Empire.”

The King of Dodor’s heart pounded as he listened. He realized Jens’s idea had great potential. On one hand, he could send people to pursue Roland; on the other, he could instigate a civil war in Gambis. If the plan to annex Gambis failed, there was still a chance to get Roland married. If both failed, he could still surrender to the Sasan Empire.

“How do we make Sylvia act?”

“Your Majesty, the Queen of Roses has a paramour. We just need to have him die at the hands of the Auguste family, and the matter will be settled.”

“Absurd! Sylvia would start a war with the Auguste family over a lover?! You’ve greatly disappointed me,” the King of Dodor said angrily.

“Your Majesty, the paramour may not be important, but the dignity of a Gold Knight cannot be challenged. Faced with the Auguste family’s relentless pressure, the Queen of Roses’s patience is already reaching its limit. And the Auguste family has clearly forgotten how terrifying a fire-element Gold Knight can be. All we need to do is give a little push from the shadows, and a civil war in Gambis will be inevitable,” Jens said confidently. “We’ve already investigated thoroughly. Sylvia’s paramour is named Victor Wimbledon Randell. He comes from the attendants of Aerie Fortress and is currently a viscount lord in Gambis. Sylvia did not make Viscount Randell a vassal lord of the York family, likely hoping to use his Aerie Fortress origins to establish an informal communication channel with the Auguste family and ease their relationship. If the Auguste family kills Viscount Randell, it would be a signal of hostility towards the York family, forcing the lords of Gambis to choose sides. The Queen of Roses would surely be enraged.”

The King of Dodor frowned, weighing the matter for a long time before finally nodding and giving his command. “Go all out. But you absolutely cannot let Sylvia see any flaws in the plan. I have no desire to face the wrath of a fire-element Gold Knight.”

Jens nodded. “Rest assured, Your Majesty. However, my plan may require the sacrifice of Duke Erickson, whose lands are adjacent to the Centaur Hills.”

“Erickson? Then sacrifice him.”

Chapter 157: Victor’s Ambition

In Victor’s domain, Bruce was always seeing something new. At first, he was simply satisfying his curiosity, just looking around. Now, Bruce observed, asked, and listened with the intention of learning, for this was his mission, and he too was a lord.

“Victor, are these farmers planting ground-potatoes?” Bruce asked in surprise, pointing at the farmers not far away.

Even if he knew nothing of agriculture, Bruce understood that arable land was exceptionally precious. Land this close to a water source, in particular, should be filled with grain crops. Yet here, he saw farmers burying round ground-potatoes into deep holes. Bruce felt that while ground-potatoes were edible, there was no need for them to occupy such fertile land.

Victor nodded with a smile. “They are indeed ground-potatoes. If you hadn’t sent me five hundred thousand pounds of seeds, I was planning to plant this entire area with them.”

So it was a lack of seeds. Bruce said apologetically, “Victor, we don’t have many seeds either. We can only give you five hundred thousand pounds this year, and I’m afraid we won’t be able to sell you any grain for the next few years. Fortunately, your population is limited. Planting some ground-potatoes should be enough to meet your subjects’ needs.”

Victor expressed his understanding. The York family was not having an easy time; they had, after all, one hundred twenty thousand people to feed. For Sylvia to squeeze out five hundred thousand pounds of seeds for him was truly the best she could do.

Since Sylvia could send him seeds, Victor could give her a big surprise in return.

“Bruce, how much arable land do you have? How many mu of barley can you plant this year?” Victor asked.

“My domain has at least four hundred thousand mu of land that can be cultivated. This year, I plan to start by clearing forty thousand mu. Since I was only allocated one million pounds of seeds, I can probably plant about ten thousand mu of barley. For the other thirty thousand mu, I plan to plant alfalfa to raise cattle and sheep.”

After being promoted to Great Knight, Bruce had been granted an investiture as a Baron, receiving a domain of over seven thousand square kilometers. Bruce was very satisfied with his territory; the Black River ran right through it, allowing him not only to build a castle along its banks but also to cultivate hundreds of thousands of mu of land. Although Bruce was currently penniless, with over four thousand people depending on him for their livelihood, his family would support him unconditionally for three years. Only after that would he need to repay the family. This was the advantage of having a powerful family behind him.

“Bruce, I suggest you also plant twenty thousand mu of ground-potatoes,” Victor advised.

“Planting ground-potatoes doesn’t seem as profitable as alfalfa. After all, cattle and sheep are more valuable. Even if our grain is insufficient, the kingdom will provide some, and we can purchase the rest, which should be basically enough. In three years, we’ll have more than enough seeds and herds of cattle and sheep. Isn’t that better?” Bruce said tactfully. He truly couldn’t understand why Victor insisted on planting worthless ground-potatoes.

Victor sighed. Bruce’s words revealed that the York family’s agricultural planning was still stuck in the old ways. They were completely unaware of the changes the Ant-man tide had brought to the land. If the York family couldn’t seize this rare opportunity, a magnificent plan of Victor’s would be impossible to realize.

“Bruce, you have so much land suitable for cultivation. Planting an extra twenty thousand mu of ground-potatoes is no big deal, is it?”

Victor smiled and said, “A year ago, no lord knew that the poisonous ground-potato could be used as food. Although you’ve tasted it, you don’t know its true value. This crop has many advantages. Planting fifty pounds of ground-potatoes on one mu of land will yield three hundred pounds next year—a one-to-six return, whereas barley is one-to-two. Also, ground-potatoes grow underground, so birds can’t peck at them. In fact, besides wild boars, almost no animals will ruin ground-potatoes. I’ve heard my farmers say that no matter how closely they watch, about ten percent of the wheat is ruined by birds every year. To protect the harvest, farmers have to guard the wheat fields constantly, or else those little flying thieves will eat it all. This requires a lot of manpower. But planting ground-potatoes requires no guarding. The farmers just need to water and fertilize them periodically, which saves a lot of labor. Of course, ground-potatoes have their flaws. They are, after all, slightly toxic, so we humans can’t eat them for long periods. That’s why we still need to plant barley and wheat. Also, they are quite damaging to the soil’s fertility, so they require plenty of fertilizer. But these shortcomings are nothing compared to the benefits of their high yield and labor-saving nature. Right now, we have land, water, and farmers. The real constraint is seeds. That being the case, why not plant some ground-potatoes?”

“You’re right. Since the land would be idle anyway, I’ll go ahead and plant twenty thousand mu of ground-potatoes,” Bruce said with a laugh. He still didn’t think much of them, but since planting them didn’t require much labor, he figured it couldn’t hurt.

Victor, however, shook his head. “I’m not planting this batch of ground-potatoes just to supplement our food supply, but for breeding stock. In three years, I intend to plant one hundred thousand mu of ground-potatoes.”

“What? That many! Didn’t you just say they damage the soil? Victor, I suggest you’d be better off planting some alfalfa. Cattle and sheep are where the wealth is! Sometimes, cattle and sheep can even be used directly as Gold Sols,” Bruce exclaimed, startled, and quickly tried to dissuade him.

Victor offered no explanation, only saying, “Come, I’ll take you somewhere.”

Utterly confused, Bruce followed Victor. Before long, he saw a large area of sheds. He hadn’t even gotten close when he heard the grunting of wild boars coming from inside. The sheds housed wild boars of all sizes, probably several hundred of them. Bruce couldn’t help but ask in astonishment, “You’re keeping wild boars in pens?”

“The smell is a bit strong.”

Ever since awakening the Wind Walk talent of the Moon Elves, Victor’s five senses had become extremely sharp. The stench from the boars was almost unbearable for him.

After using X-3 to diminish the odor, Victor said, “Wild boars aren’t as valuable as cattle or sheep, but they eat almost anything: acorns, worms, termites, sea buckthorn berries, blue-core grass—all things that are useless to us can be food for boars. Raising one wild boar can produce about five hundred pounds of meat and lard a year, while a sheep provides at most a hundred-odd pounds of mutton. A cow, on the other hand, takes three years to mature and yields only about a thousand pounds of beef. Tell me, is raising pigs a good deal or not?”

“Victor, I can’t agree with you on this.”

Bruce shook his head. “Cowhide, sinew, and sheepskin are more valuable than the meat, not to mention that cattle and sheep also produce milk. As for wild boars, we of the York family know them all too well. There’s no need to raise them; they’re everywhere in the wild. You may not know this, but lords generally permit their subjects to hunt wild boars within their lands. As for us Nobles, it’s fine to eat wild boar meat once in a while, but eating it too often would be beneath our station. Now that you’ve penned up all the wild boars, your subjects will probably see you as a stingy lord. After all, wild boars are their main source of meat.”

Within a domain, all resources, including wild boars, were the lord’s property. Bruce misunderstood, thinking Victor was penning the boars to prevent his subjects from poaching, an act that could be considered tyrannical.

Victor frowned. He really hadn’t considered this issue. All along, his subjects had exchanged their labor for work points, and work points for food, which was akin to eating from a communal pot. But whether they were vassals, subjects, or freemen, they all wanted private property. The subjects were willing to eat from a communal pot because they were part of a system where they could exchange work points for land. But the work point system was now closed. What about the freemen who came later? When they saw Victor penning up even the wild boars, would they still be willing to stay and settle down?

“Bruce, I believe raising wild boars is the best choice.”

Victor decided to set that issue aside for now and first promote his agricultural and livestock system to Bruce. “Have you noticed? After the Ant-man tide, all the predators in the Centaur Hills have disappeared, leaving only herds of wild boars. Without natural enemies, it won’t be long before they run rampant. At that time, do you think your subjects will still be able to gather berries and wild vegetables in the wilderness?”

Bruce was stunned. He was not unfamiliar with his subjects’ food sources. Besides farming and animal husbandry, hunting and gathering made up a large part. During the lean season between harvests, subjects needed to gather all sorts of wild fruits, nuts, mushrooms, and vegetables for food. However, these important wild crops were also what wild boars ate. If the boars ate them all, what would the subjects do? They couldn’t eat pork for every meal, could they? Moreover, wild boars were ferocious and difficult to hunt; the number of hunters who died on their tusks each year was not small.

“Bruce, if we let the wild boars run loose, not only will they eat all the wild crops, they will also threaten the survival of the yellow goats and short-tailed deer. In a few years, the wilds of the Centaur Hills will be left with nothing but wild boars. Therefore, we must control their numbers before they become a plague. Right now, you have two choices: either kill all the wild boars, or pen them up.”

“My choice is to pen them. Uncontrolled wild boars are pests, but penned wild boars are a valuable resource. These boars can turn things we don’t eat into meat we can. Their manure is excellent fertilizer that can increase grain yields. And with the boars gone from the wild, the delicious yellow goats and short-tailed deer will multiply, as will wild fruits and vegetables. It will be safer for people to go out and gather or hunt. The reason I’m planting so many ground-potatoes is to raise more wild boars.”

“Bruce, if you govern your domain according to my methods, the total food supply will increase by at least threefold,” Victor declared proudly.

“Then do we stop raising cattle and sheep? Without cowhide, we won’t be able to make leather armor! Producing only food isn’t enough,” Bruce said slowly, finally snapping out of the scene Victor had painted.

Victor smiled. “Bruce, after the Ant-man plague, are there any predators left in the domain? Of course the cattle and sheep can graze in the wild!”

Bruce’s eyes lit up, and he blurted out, “Right! Why didn’t I think of that! Victor, you truly are a different kind of yellow goat!”

“Me? A yellow goat?”

Bruce gave an embarrassed laugh and explained Master Edwin’s assessment to Victor.

Victor shook his head and chuckled. “Master Edwin’s metaphor is certainly vivid.” He then turned serious again. “In a few years, the wild beasts will eventually return. So, I plan to establish settlements in the wilderness, with people specifically dedicated to herding cattle and sheep. The water problem can also be solved. I plan to build cisterns with green bricks to collect rainwater for the settlements. As long as there isn’t a drought, it will be perfectly sufficient for the settlements’ drinking water needs.”

“Wait! What did you say? Cisterns? Settlements?” Bruce pressed excitedly.

Victor knew why Bruce was excited. Water was a major factor limiting human productivity. Some domains were vast yet could only support a few thousand people precisely because of insufficient water. Digging pits to store water was nothing new, but water in a pit easily seeped into the ground and couldn’t be stored long-term. A cistern built with green bricks, however, could achieve this. But trying to expand villages based solely on cisterns was wishful thinking.

Victor carefully explained the properties of the green brick cisterns to Bruce. “The rainwater collected by the cisterns is only enough for livestock to drink; it can’t be used for farming.”

“What a pity.” Bruce first shook his head in regret, then said with renewed vigor, “Still, just being able to graze cattle and sheep is already very good.”

Victor was secretly pleased. As long as the York family got a taste of the cisterns’ benefits, they wouldn’t refuse his proposal.

“Bruce, I have a treasure to give to Sylvia,” Victor said with a mysterious smile.

Bruce saw a wooden implement shaped like a giant bow, with a plowshare made of refined iron attached to its base. He asked uncertainly, “Is this a plow?”

“Correct. This is a plow I designed,” Victor nodded.

Victor had seen farmers plow the land. They used a type of ox-drawn hook plow to turn the soil. The farmer drove the draft oxen, plowing once horizontally and then again vertically, but the result was only a shallow tilling of the topsoil. Victor’s face had darkened at the sight; even someone who knew nothing of farming understood the importance of deep plowing and meticulous cultivation. It would be a miracle if they could grow any grain with such shallow plowing. From that moment, he had wanted to build a mouldboard plow, but subsequent events had left him with no time to attend to the matter. Only now had Victor finally crafted the new plow.

“Using this plow can double grain yields!”

Bruce left. He had arrived carrying five hundred thousand pounds of wheat seed. When he departed, he was tightly clutching the plow Victor had given him, along with twelve parchment scrolls that detailed Victor’s entire agricultural production system. Bruce treasured them as if they were priceless jewels.

In truth, even if Bruce hadn’t come, Victor would have pitched his ideas to the York family anyway, because Victor had a magnificent plan—to construct a massive irrigation project.

After the Ant-man plague, the Fishmen tribes along the banks of the Goldwater River had been severely crippled. Without their interference, it was the perfect time to dig a canal. But building such a massive project would require at least tens of thousands of laborers. Victor didn’t have that many people, and by the time he did, the Fishmen would have recovered. Therefore, Victor had his eye on the York family.

The York family had one hundred twenty thousand people, but it was hard to imagine that people who spent all day busy gathering food would have time to complete such an undertaking, especially when they also had to build three forts. Therefore, to liberate their productive forces, they first had to fill their subjects’ bellies and free them from worrying about food. Only then could these ordinary people create miracles.

Victor didn’t plan to tell the York family about his grand design just yet. Letting the results speak for themselves was more persuasive than anything. Once the York family’s subjects were freed from the fields, it would be nearly impossible for them to refuse the canal project. This canal could irrigate tens of millions of mu of arable land, and Victor would be the first to benefit. By that time, his domain would be able to support two hundred thousand people.

Victor took a pleasant sip of Purple Cane wine. He calculated that the project should begin in four years. Any later, and the Fishmen would become a major problem.

“Perhaps, I should send people to continue shooting those ‘lovely’ Fishmen right now…”

Chapter 158: Now That You’re Here, You’re Not Leaving

It was the end of the Season of Wind in the northeastern forests of the Randell Fief, and the various wild fruits had ripened. There were blackthorn plums, rowanberries, rosehips, blackberries, and elderberries. Split-open chestnuts, mushrooms, and wild celery could be seen on the ground. After the Ant-man plague, the ferocious beasts in the forest had vanished, turning it into a paradise for yellow goats, short-tailed deer, wild boars, takin, badgers, wild rabbits, squirrels, and civets. These animals were preparing for the cold Season of Water, each one eating its fill, growing fat and strong.

In the early morning, a dozen strong and agile short-tailed deer moved through the misty woods. Before long, they arrived at a stream. They sniffed the air vigorously and, confirming there was no scent of predators, lowered their heads to drink.

Swoosh!

A sharp arrow shot out from the bushes, accurately piercing the stag’s head. The leader of the herd fell to the ground without so much as a grunt. Having lost their leader, the herd of short-tailed deer descended into chaos, losing their chance to escape. From concealed positions, more arrows and javelins flew toward the panicked herd.

As the blood of the last fawn stained the stream red, a dozen strong, able-bodied men ran out to collect their prey. They carried hunting bows and javelins, wore leather hoods, and were clad in sleeveless short robes cinched with cowhide belts—all dressed as hunters.

“A deer hit by an arrow won’t run far. A few of you go and bring them back,” the old hunter in the lead said, crouching down to carefully inspect the hoofprints and bloodstains on the ground, signaling his companions to search for the prey that had fled.

Once their companions had brought back the game, the hunters shouldered their spoils and walked along the stream out of the forest.

Outside the forest was a temporary camp. Numerous skinned prey hung from wooden racks, where a dozen or so women were meticulously rubbing salt into the meat. Men in leather aprons were butchering a fat wild boar by the stream. On the other side of the camp were piles of wooden barrels filled with wild fruits, mushrooms, nuts, and wild vegetables.

The hunting party, returning fully laden, was immediately given a warm welcome. More than twenty people happily took the prey, crowding around their triumphant companions as they walked toward the camp.

“Old Hansen, quite a nice haul you’ve got there,” a middle-aged, stocky man in chainmail remarked, patting the old hunter on the shoulder as he eyed the plump short-tailed deer.

“Captain Sean, have the other parties not returned yet?” Old Hansen asked in a raspy voice, bowing slightly to Sean.

Sean chuckled. “Their hunting skills can’t compare to yours. They should all be back around noon. Those rascals won’t forget about mealtime.”

The militia captain’s compliment made Hansen’s old, wrinkled face beam. The two of them walked into the camp, chatting and laughing.

“Old Hansen, this place is really nice. No beasts, no monsters, and food everywhere. I’m planning to have you all stay here until the Season of Water has passed.” Sean patted a log beside him, inviting the village’s most experienced hunter to sit.

Hansen was startled by his words and stood up to ask, “What? We’re not going back to the village?”

“You know the situation in the village, don’t you? This year’s harvest has completely failed, and more than half of the village’s grain reserves must be saved for seed. My father also told me that the Intendant did not approve the request to waive the tribute. To tell you the truth, my father sent me out with you to hunt and gather not just to supplement the village’s food. If we didn’t come out here, people would have starved!” Sean said with a bitter smile.

Old Hansen slowly sat back down and said in a hushed voice, “You didn’t say this before we left! We’ll die just the same spending the winter in the wild! I heard there was a wolf plague here, and this camp has no defenses whatsoever.”

“What choice do I have? There are over nine hundred people in the village. It’s not just us who came out; two other groups also have to fend for themselves out here. If we don’t do this, even more people will die,” Sean said in a low voice, then added comfortingly, “Don’t worry. A place scoured by the Ant-men is clear of any ferocious beasts. It’s not dangerous to camp here.”

Old Hansen felt a little more at ease. It was true that he hadn’t seen any trace of beasts or monsters in the past few days. But he didn’t want to risk staying in the wilderness for over a hundred days. That would practically make them freemen. By the time he returned, he was afraid his home would have been taken over by someone else. Old Hansen knew that the Village head had several freemen relatives living in his home, and they hadn’t come out with the group.

“Captain Sean, we’ve hunted a lot of game, and there are so many wild vegetables and fruits. We can just take them back. How about we return in batches?” Old Hansen asked tentatively.

Sean sneered inwardly. The village was already overcrowded. He had brought these people out to hunt and gather, partly to supplement the village’s food, but also to get rid of Old Hansen and his people. Anyway, his father called the shots in the village. The Intendant only cared about collecting tribute and had always turned a blind eye to such methods of culling the population.

“It’s a five-day journey back to the village. With so many people eating and drinking, how much could we even bring back? Old Hansen, you’re the best hunter in the village. We’re all from the same village; surely you can’t watch them starve to death out here, can you?”

Just as Old Hansen was about to speak, he saw Sean stroking the hilt of his sword with a smirk. Only then did he remember that Sean was the village’s chief warrior, a vassal of the noble lord. Even if he killed Hansen, the penalty would just be a few head of cattle.

“How much do you plan to take with you?” Old Hansen asked sullenly.

Sean said with a broad smile, “I’ll leave you twenty percent. The rest will be taken away. You’re a smart man. You know what to say and what not to say. Come on, the others are back too, and they’re all waiting for food.”

Several hunting parties returned to the camp one after another. The aroma of roasting meat filled the air, and everyone sat down together joyfully. Except for a select few, most of them were still unaware that they had been driven from their homes.

As Sean was enjoying the fragrant roasted meat and delicious mushroom soup, a subordinate on watch duty ran over in a panic.

“Lord Sean! Trouble! Someone is coming!”

The camp instantly fell into chaos. Sean and his men roughly pushed aside the women and children in their way, quickly put on their gear, and grabbed their weapons before walking out of the camp.

Once outside, Sean sucked in a cold breath. He saw a dozen fully armed soldiers walking toward them. They were powerfully built and well-equipped with full chainmail. The one-handed spears in their hands shone with a faint indigo light, and some even carried fearsome crossbows.

Elites! Even more elite than the lord’s personal guards!

Sean swallowed hard and shouted, “We are subjects of the Briatte family! Who are you?”

A short, stocky soldier holding a mace grinned. “Subjects of the Briatte family, poaching in our Randell Fief? You’ve got some nerve. Drop your weapons, take the things you stole, and come with us!”

Sean’s eyes darted around, and he yelled again, “This is the territory of the Briatte family! This forest is our hunting ground! Who are you?”

“I’m Iron Hammer, squad leader of Lord Viscount Randell’s guards!” the stocky soldier said, pointing at the short-tailed deer fawns hanging on the wooden racks. He added coldly, “I’ve never seen anyone hunt fawns and does in their own hunting grounds. You’re nothing but despicable thieves! I’ll say it again, drop your weapons!”

At that moment, dozens of men carrying hunting bows rushed out of the camp and gathered behind Sean and his men. Seeing that his side had superior numbers, Sean’s courage surged. His fearful gaze toward the soldiers turned to one of greed; the equipment on those soldiers made him intensely envious.

“There are more of us! Kill these bandits.”

With Sean’s roar, the battle erupted in an instant, and it ended just as quickly. Three Lithe Ape militiamen charged into Sean’s group like tigers pouncing on a flock of sheep. Their hundred-pound gear was as light as a feather on them. They nimbly dodged the dense volley of arrows, using their refined iron one-handed spears to beat their opponents until they screamed for their parents. The few arrows that did strike the soldiers were no match for the chainmail forged from refined iron. After the guards from Randell Fief killed five of them with crossbows, the villagers from Bryat’s fief chose to kneel and surrender.

Overwhelming equipment, overwhelming force—the battle was just that one-sided. If Iron Hammer hadn’t given instructions beforehand, it would only have been a matter of time before the three Lithe Ape militiamen killed them all. Unless these men could fight with the same reckless abandon as the Ant-men, they might have stood a chance of taking down a Lithe Ape militiaman. In terms of close combat, the Lithe Ape militiamen who had begun practicing the simplified Ox-Subduing Mystic Form had already surpassed early-stage apprentice knights.

Iron Hammer clicked his tongue, bored. He glanced at the Lithe Ape militiamen with great envy and ordered, “Have them carry their things. We’re returning to camp.”

By noon the next day, Iron Hammer had escorted the poachers back to the Lake Camp. Victor had been busy practicing the Azure Moon technique and only found time to deal with the matter in the evening.

“My lord, the above is what I’ve found out through interrogation,” the spy Barol said respectfully.

Victor sighed. He had long been prepared to take in freemen, but he hadn’t wanted to start with bloodshed. He had known about these people as soon as they entered the Randell Fief days ago, but he hadn’t expected to find a vassal of the Briatte family among them. Their intention to take their spoils back to Bryat’s fief was the reason Victor had taken such strong measures. To gain more population, Victor could tolerate freemen coming to Randell Fief to make a living, but he would not tolerate infringement from another family, especially the Briatte family, which had schemed against him before.

According to Sean’s confession, most of them were not freemen but villagers from Rota Village, a village belonging to the Briatte family. Due to a food shortage in their village, they had come to Victor’s fief to poach and gather illegally. Of course, Sean insisted that the forest was Briatte territory. He also revealed that Viscount Briart’s younger brother, Austin, had been promoted to a Silver Knight, hoping to use this information to threaten Barol into releasing him.

“Barol, do those villagers know they’ve been kicked out by their village head?” Victor asked.

Barol bowed and replied, “My lord, I have already told them. They are now very anxious and angry. The vast majority are willing to stay here as freemen. Also, eight of them are Sean’s trusted followers and obey his every command.”

Victor asked again, “What’s your recommendation?”

“My lord, most of these people are subjects of the Briatte family. I think it would be best to drive them away. They are likely just here for food, and once the Season of Water is over, they’ll probably try to flee anyway. Moreover, detaining the subjects of another house will be seen as a provocation,” Barol said.

Victor laughed and said, “I can’t just sit by and watch the subjects of the Briatte family starve to death, can I? Whether they are subjects or freemen, since they’ve come, I’ll give them something to eat. Those who want to leave can go.”

“Iron Hammer, that Sean is a vassal of the Briatte family, an upper-class man. Let him go. Let those who want to go back with him go as well. Don’t forget to remind them that the wilderness isn’t safe,” Victor said nonchalantly, giving Iron Hammer a meaningful look.

“My lord, I’ll go release them right now.” Iron Hammer nodded with a savage grin and strode out.

Despite his honest and simple appearance, Iron Hammer was no benevolent soul. In fact, there wasn’t a single soft-hearted person among the War Bear Mercenaries. Even the delicate Lilia could kill a man without batting an eye. Therefore, Victor wasn’t worried that Iron Hammer would misunderstand his intentions.

“Thinking you can just take a bite and leave? There’s no such thing as a free lunch,” Victor murmured to himself, a smile playing on his lips. “Now that you’re here, you’re not leaving. I was just worrying about a lack of labor.”

Chapter 159: Private Plots

Victor’s Lake Camp was built at the confluence of the Black River and the lake. After several dozen days of repairs, the camp was fully equipped with all kinds of facilities, looking more and more like a large village. Victor named it Rivermouth Village.

Three kilometers south of Rivermouth Village, in a valley with pleasant scenery, Victor had his Alchemical militia build a manor to serve as his residence.

The manor covered fifteen mu, enclosed by an eight-meter-high iron-oak fence. It had four arrow towers, and most of the buildings inside were made of wood, with the main building being a three-story green brick villa. The manor was heavily guarded both inside and out. Forty Alchemical militia served as guards, while four Alchemical Warhounds lay hidden in the surrounding forest, and ten alchemical crows monitored the manor for any and all activity.

Besides the alchemical creatures, there were twelve War Bear veterans and fifteen maids in the manor. The veterans were tasked by Victor to compile the mercenary company’s operational manual, while the maids took care of their daily needs. These maids had been handpicked by Lilia herself, every one of them a stout woman with a thick waist and broad shoulders. When Victor saw them, he couldn’t help but sigh with emotion. He had always thought Lilia wasn’t the jealous type, but now it seemed that was just a misunderstanding.

“Victor, we are now raising 726 wild boars, and we’ve culled over 300 adult ones. The pork, wild fruits, vegetables, and mushrooms are already being cured and dried. The nuts we’ve gathered have filled the warehouses. Adding the five hundred thousand pounds of rye flour from the York family, our stored food is more than enough for two thousand people to get through the Season of Water,” Lilia reported, her face beaming with joy.

The Randell family was not short on food now. Upon receiving Victor’s scroll, Sylvia had been overjoyed and sent another large shipment of grain. Combined with the fief’s own plant and animal resources, they could support not just two thousand, but even three thousand people. What Victor lacked was labor.

“How many freemen have we taken in now?” Victor asked.

Lilia said, “We’ve captured two more groups of poachers, 239 people in total, all of them drifters from Bryat’s fief.” She paused, then added worriedly, “Victor, most of them are subjects of Baron Matthew Briart. Baron Matthew is a landed noble, after all. Is it really appropriate for us to kill his vassals?”

Vassals were upper-class men with status. A lord might not care about the life or death of lower-class people, but he would certainly investigate the disappearance of a vassal. Since Baron Matthew’s vassals had vanished in the Randell Fief, he was bound to react in some way, at the very least by sending troops to search the area. They would inevitably clash with the Randell family’s soldiers, which was why Barol had suggested driving all those people away. Keeping the subjects while the vassals disappeared was a flaw in itself. The trouble this would cause was obvious, and Lilia saw it too, but she didn’t yet understand why Victor had to do this.

“Lilia, whether I kill those people or not, a conflict between us and Baron Matthew is inevitable. The Briatte family needs food, and while I need people, it’s not an unlimited need. With more than three thousand people, the fief’s resources will be strained. If I let those people go, they’ll spread the word and bring more people back with them, because their own fief has no more food. One will tell ten, ten will tell a hundred, and more and more people will come. Eventually, it will turn into organized opposition, and Baron Matthew will surely find an excuse to fight us for that forest… Lilia, I can accept a limited number of people from Bryat’s fief, but I will never allow the Briatte family to covet my resources. Since the conflict is unavoidable, why should I be polite to them? Cutting off the Briatte family’s grasping hands and keeping the people we need is the best choice. What’s the worst that can happen? We’ll just have a fight.”

Victor spoke casually, feeling no psychological burden about clashing with the Briatte family. In terms of backing, Victor was supported by the uncrowned king of the Centaur Hills. In terms of strength, he had more than nine hundred Alchemical militia under his command, including eighty-five Crouching Ox Militiamen equipped with Ant-man armor. Even if Viscount Briart weren’t dead, he was only worth two Great Knights. And how could a Great Knight, besieged by death-defying Alchemical militia, possibly escape Victor’s arrow?

“Mm, I understand,” Lilia said softly, leaning against Victor’s chest.

“Let’s not worry about the Briatte family for now,” Victor said. “What has the response been to the private plot policy?”

Lilia’s spirits lifted. She sat up straight and said, “Everyone is very happy, especially the freemen. They’re working much more enthusiastically. However, the members of our work point system think that the freemen shouldn’t be allowed to have private plots.”

The private plot was a benefit policy Victor had introduced for new members, and it was almost identical to the private plot system from ancient China. Both Victor’s subjects and the freemen could receive a small piece of land—three fen per subject and one fen per freeman. The produce from this land belonged to them or their families, and they didn’t need to pay tribute to Victor. However, this land could not be counted towards the ten-mu standard for vassals, and once they became a vassal, they had to return their private plot.

The other day, Bruce’s talk about the subjects hunting wild boars had made Victor realize there was a huge loophole in the internal governance system he had designed: there was absolutely no place for latecomers.

In the beginning, Victor’s fief had developed at a speed that stunned everyone. This was because his development plan was fundamentally different from other lords’—the difference between a planned and a free system. The work point system was what supported this difference. Now, Victor had laid out an even grander plan for agriculture and waterworks, but his work point system had been closed.

Victor’s agricultural and waterworks plans required a large population. To be precise, they required a large and effective workforce. Without the work point system, would the freemen become an effective workforce? Victor was pessimistic, believing it was almost impossible because the freemen lacked sufficient attachment to their lord.

A lord would declare sovereignty over a fief by first building a castle in a suitable location to serve as his administrative center. Next, the lord would need to build towns and villages to expand his control over the territory. Towns and villages were built near water sources. Therefore, the more water sources in a fief, the more towns and villages there were, and the stronger the lord’s control. Land outside the lord’s control could not be considered his territory.

A village’s effective range of control was the area a villager could travel to and return from within a day, roughly 300 square kilometers. Beyond this range was the wilderness. The wilderness was inhabited by beastmen, monsters, and ferocious beasts, making it extremely dangerous. Ordinary people could not survive in the perilous wilds; they had to rely on the protection of a village. Thus, the lord protected the common people, and in turn, the common people had no choice but to accept the lord’s exploitation.

In this relationship of protection and tribute, freemen had the lowest status. There were no rights or obligations between a lord and freemen. Freemen did not have to perform labor for the lord, and the lord paid no mind to their affairs. The lord only collected tribute from his vassals, who would hire freemen to work and pay them wages. When the fief was attacked, vassals and subjects had priority in seeking refuge in the castle, while freemen had to fend for themselves. To gain real protection and better treatment, freemen strove to become subjects.

Within the lord’s actual sphere of control, subjects enjoyed his protection. Additionally, besides being hired for work, subjects had the right to rent land and keep twenty percent of the harvest. Subjects also had to perform unpaid service for the lord. For two months during the Season of Fire and two months during the Season of Wind, they had to perform farm labor, harvesting hay or crops. During the construction of a castle, subjects had to serve in rotation until it was completed. When the fief was invaded, subjects had the responsibility to defend their homes and the castle. The lord could call upon his subjects to fight monsters in the fief, but he could not force them. And he certainly could not compel his subjects to attack the territory of another family.

After carefully sorting through the various factors of a lord’s rule, Victor realized that the monsters in the wilderness were the very reason freemen and subjects relied on a lord. However, the monster population in the Centaur Hills was pitifully small to begin with, and in Victor’s grand blueprint for waterworks development, there was no room for monsters to survive.

Without monsters, would freemen still need to rely on a lord? Would they still accept exploitation? Would they still perform labor? The answer was obvious—weren’t the numerous freemen camps of all sizes in Victor’s fief proof of this?

Building the canal was a long and arduous project. Even in the highly centralized dynasties of ancient China, it would have caused public resentment, let alone in a feudal system that relied on monsters. Even if Victor filled everyone’s belly, his subjects would not be willing to do hard labor for long periods. If pushed too far, they would simply flee into the wilderness and become mountain folk. If Victor dared to use coercive measures, the Church wouldn’t mind locking him up.

Victor needed to design a new system of benefit distribution to encourage the common people to support his plans. Before that, he had to ensure that new members would not break away from his rule. The Alchemical Warhounds could play the role of monsters, but it wasn’t a long-term solution. Thus, the private plot policy was born.

“Lilia, most of the people who’ve drifted into our fief were originally subjects. They were only forced to live as freemen because they had no food. Once they get through this difficult period, they’ll surely want to return to Bryat’s fief. But the private plots can convince many of them to stay. Three fen of land isn’t enough to grow crops, just some vegetables. The cost to us is small, but the returns are great. You know as well that the work point system can’t be reopened, but the private plot policy can attract hardworking and reliable freemen to join us.” Victor smiled. “Alright, go get Barol. I have a mission for him.”

Half an hour later, the spy Barol appeared in Victor’s study.

“My lord, what are your orders?” Barol asked respectfully.

“I want you to investigate the Briatte family’s situation. I don’t need any top-secret intelligence, but I need to know their strength, their background, and the relationships between family members—the more detailed, the better. Especially Baron Matthew’s situation,” Victor said flatly.

Victor had killed Baron Matthew’s vassals, making a clash between them inevitable, so naturally he needed to understand his opponent. Barol seemed prepared for this, saying in a solemn voice, “My lord, I’ll need men.”

“Of course. I’ll give you ten elite soldiers. Each of them is about as strong as Shak, more than enough to protect you and your junior spies. From now on, they’re under your command,” Victor said with a nod.

Barol was ecstatic. He had seen Shak crush a Sacred Warrior in battle. In his eyes, Shak was a death commando comparable to an apprentice knight, and now Victor was giving him ten of these powerful death commandos at once. This showed just how strong the lord was, and it also proved that he had earned Victor’s trust and esteem.

Suppressing his inner excitement, Barol said deferentially, “My lord, I need to go to Black Fortress Town to recruit some people.”

Chapter 160: Quicksilver

The cold Season of Water arrived on schedule, and Black Fortress Town was bustling with noise and excitement. A little over ten days ago, the ant swarms had finally been eradicated, and the reconstruction of the Centaur Hills was about to begin. The York family and their vassals were recruiting subjects in Black Fortress Town, and all the unattached freemen flocked to the recruitment offices, desperately promoting themselves to the noble lords’ stewards.

Rumors, both true and false, about the York family’s formidable strength, their ownership of all the land in the Centaur Hills, and their recruitment of subjects ignited the public’s enthusiasm. Everyone wanted to secure a place for themselves in the new order.

Monkey walked toward his shack, utterly crestfallen. He had just been rejected again. This was the seventh time a steward in charge of recruitment had turned him down. He was too thin and frail for any kind of strenuous work.

The Ant-man plague had changed the fates of many. Some laughed, while others cried; Monkey was among those who ought to be crying. His gang had vanished like smoke, his property had been confiscated, his house had been torn down, and his mistress had left him. He was once again a freeman with nothing to his name.

Monkey had always been a freeman. He once thought there was nothing wrong with it; in his prime, he had lived better than most subjects, with underlings, wealth, women, a private residence, and status—he had it all. Only after losing everything did Monkey realize the importance of being a subject. Without status, there was no security. In the face of disaster, freemen were the least capable of weathering the storm. Monkey had just seen Weyrich, the fat owner from Amber Street, being held down and beaten mercilessly by his former employees. Before the disaster, fat Weyrich had been a notable figure in Black Fortress Town, with businesses, connections, and wealth. He had been notoriously harsh with those same employees. But when the York family issued the Call to Arms, all of fat Weyrich’s goods and property were requisitioned, leaving him with nothing but his freeman status. And so, he was now facing brutal retribution.

Monkey shivered and pulled the hood on his head lower, hiding his face in the shadows. He quickened his pace. The makeshift shack he lived in was not far, and his young sister was waiting for him inside. Monkey began to consider whether he should leave Black Fortress Town as soon as possible. The York family’s Call to Arms had been lifted, and it was a time for settling old scores. The number of his enemies was countless times greater than fat Weyrich’s.

Just as he neared the shack, Monkey’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach. Several burly men had surrounded him, led by an old acquaintance: Sasha, Lord Barol’s former number one enforcer. After Barol’s downfall, Sasha had taken a few trusted men and moved to the freemen camp outside the town. Monkey hadn’t sent anyone to hunt them down, never imagining it would lead to such a disaster.

“Sasha, is that you? Where’s my sister?” Monkey asked, his face cold.

“Master Monkey, Miss Elsa is quite safe.” Sasha bowed to Monkey mockingly, then slapped him hard across the face. “Did you ever imagine this day would come when you betrayed Lord Barol, Master Monkey?”

“Brother!” A delicate figure threw herself into Monkey’s arms. Monkey hugged his only family member tightly and soothed her, “It’s okay, Elsa. Brother will protect you.”

“Sasha, for the sake of our past friendship, let Elsa go. I’m begging you,” Monkey pleaded.

A sneer appeared on Sasha’s face. “The fate of you and your sister is not for me to decide,” he said coldly. “Let’s get going before it gets dark.”

Leaving Black Fortress Town, Monkey and his sister were flanked by the burly men, stumbling southwards. As dusk fell, they saw a carriage with a bonfire burning beside it. A dozen or so figures were gathered around the flames.

“Hey, Monkey. You’re here too,” a familiar voice from a blurry figure called out as Monkey drew closer.

“Fermi, is that you? Red Wolf, Mia, Spider… you’re here too?” Monkey was stunned to see so many familiar faces in the crowd. Like him, they had all been Barol’s most capable subordinates, and all of them had their families with them.

His gaze shifted to a cloaked figure by the fire. “Lord Barol,” Monkey said bitterly, “I didn’t expect you to still be alive.”

“Is it a surprise? I’m surprised too. I never expected the one to take my place would be you, and not Fermi,” Barol said, throwing back his hood. He had reverted to his appearance as Lord Barol.

Fermi said resentfully, “He just got lucky and latched onto Baron Wimbledon’s thigh. Oh, no, that’s Viscount Randell now.”

I’m the one who latched onto House of Randell’s thigh. What Monkey grabbed couldn’t even be called a finger, Barol thought to himself. Seeing the obvious relief on Monkey’s face made him even more irritated. “Beat him!” he ordered.

Sasha grinned viciously and rained down his giant fists on Monkey’s face and body. Monkey curled up on the ground, protecting his head and face, and let out well-timed screams of pain, drawing sneers from the onlookers. Only the little girl, Elsa, covered her mouth, her tear-filled eyes a picture of misery.

“Stop.”

Sasha stopped and stepped behind Barol. Monkey lay on the ground, groaning in pain, while his sister Elsa hugged him, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Alright, you two can stop the act now.”

Barol scoffed. Monkey immediately stopped groaning, and Elsa wiped away her tears, smiling fawningly at the crowd. When Monkey got beaten for stealing, Elsa would act pitiful. It was this signature skill that had allowed the siblings to survive their journey from the Eastern Province to the Centaur Hills.

“Such great acting! I remember Elsa is only ten, right? At this rate, she’ll be as good as me,” the flirtatious and beautiful Mia clucked her tongue in wonder.

“Yes, the little girl has a gift for it,” Spider chimed in from the side.

The plain-faced Red Wolf sullenly interjected, “Her hands are very steady, and very nimble.”

Barol smiled and asked a little boy beside him, “Paul, what did you observe?”

“Tutor, they were trying to distract you. It means they fear you, and they think they understand you,” the dark, thin boy named Paul said softly.

The faces of the others turned grim. Barol roared with laughter. These people were all aides he had trained in the past. Each of them had learned some spy techniques, though they themselves were unaware of it. Barol had never imagined that a day would come when he would actually need them.

“This is Fermi. You can see from his chubby, likable appearance that he’s best at building relationships and getting close to people. Whether men or women, old or young, few dislike him at first sight. No one would ever guess that he’s my most capable assassin.”

Fermi nodded and bowed to Paul with a fawning smile, his憨态可掬 look truly comical.

“Mia and Spider, siblings. They excel at deception and disguise. They used to be able to fool only lowly freemen, but after learning some noble etiquette from me, they’ve duped quite a few merchant caravans from minor families.”

Spider gave Paul an elegant bow, while Mia blew him a kiss.

“Red Wolf. Ordinary-looking, you’d never be able to pick him out in a crowd. He’s the best thief I have. If he doesn’t die or get crippled, he has the potential to surpass the best master thief I’ve ever seen… He has one damn flaw, though—he can’t control his hands… Take out what you stole!”

Red Wolf raised his hands high. “My lord, I didn’t steal anything!” he said with a wry smile. “The fellow behind you is too terrifying. I feel like he would have caught me the moment I tried anything on you.”

Barol glanced at the stoic Lithe Ape militiaman standing there and then said to Paul, “That is why he is still alive. Red Wolf’s senses are extremely sharp; he can always sense danger in advance.”

“If he doesn’t break his habit of relying on his senses, he will die one day,” little Paul said coldly.

Barol nodded and pointed at the black-and-blue Monkey. “Monkey. Good at reading people. The cleverest and also the most foolish among them. If anyone else had inherited my position, the rest of them would probably be buried in the ground by now.”

“Lord Barol, if I had inherited your position, at least one other person would have survived!” Mia grumbled in dissatisfaction. Spider nodded vigorously, indicating his agreement with his sister.

Barol ignored the siblings’ banter and continued, “These five are all clever, but they don’t have an ounce of loyalty. Fortunately, they all share a common trait: they value their families above all else. That is why I chose them in the first place. Now, they are your subordinates, and I will look after their families.”

Little Paul took a step forward and scanned the pale faces of the group. They were an assassin, a thief, swindlers, a woman of the night, and a ruffian. Now, they were forced to become spies for the family. Just as Lord Victor had said: If you cannot choose your destiny, then embrace it.

“From now on, you are members of Quicksilver,” Paul announced.

The metal quicksilver did not exist in this world. Victor had combined the words for “water” and “silver” to create the name “Quicksilver.” It was the name Victor had chosen for his spy organization, symbolizing its ability to be pervasive.

At that moment, Victor was unaware that “Quicksilver” had already recruited new members. He was at the Hill Camp, observing an experiment.

The Hill Camp had been cleared out long before the Ant-man plague had even ended. The rubble from the collapsed structures had become part of the mountain brick kiln. Now, the Hill Camp was transformed. A twenty-meter-high wall made of special bricks had replaced the Iron-oak fence. On the outside, these special bricks looked no different from ordinary green bricks, but not even an Ogre chief with his immense strength could hope to shake this wall.

Numerous workshops and warehouses had been built inside the camp, where mouldboard plows, arrows, crossbow bolts, chainmail, spears, shortswords, longswords, round shields, raw sugar, Snow Sugar, coffee, and Purple Cane wine were produced and stored. However, none of this was the focus of Victor’s attention. A large pool had been dug in the center of the camp, and the dozens of Fishmen inside it were the main event of the day.

This was Victor’s first time observing Fishmen up close. If one ignored their mouths full of sharp teeth and their cold eyes, the species was rather cute. Whenever the Alchemical militia tossed pig offal mixed with blood into the pool, these short-armed, short-legged Fishmen would scurry over, chirping and squawking as they fought fiercely over the food, feasting voraciously. And when the Alchemical militia prodded the Fishmen with spears, these low-intelligence beastmen would roar and shriek, secreting a sticky fluid from their bodies. At that point, a long pole with a noose would be used to pull a Fishman out. Several Alchemical militiamen would then swarm it, using brushes to scrape the mucus from its body into a large wooden barrel. Once the Fishman was on the brink of death, they would toss it back into the pool.

“With this fishman mucus, we can build a fortress one hundred meters high?” Victor asked, pointing at the wooden barrel.

Reno nodded. “Yes, my lord.”

The maximum height for a fortress in this world was sixty meters, limited on one hand by the weight of the stone, and on the other by the quality of the adhesive. The mortar concocted by the Alchemical auxiliary soldiers using fishman mucus could greatly improve the stability of a special brick fortress. Coupled with the fact that special bricks were far lighter than stone, even a mound like the Hill Camp could support a giant, eighty-meter-tall special brick fortress. For the safety of the Alchemy Tower, Victor wanted to build a fortress at the Hill Camp, but he didn’t need one so massive that it would attract unwanted attention.

Victor recalled Master Edwen once telling him that the Silver Spire in the Royal Capital of Eyer was a relic from the age of Wizards, standing a full one hundred meters tall!

“Could the Silver Spire also be an Alchemy Tower?” Victor stroked his chin, muttering to himself.

Chapter 161: A Way to Repair

“King, report on the Alchemy Tower’s status,” Victor commanded the Tower Spirit in his mind.

“As you command, my lord,” the King responded. “Currently, we have 854 Lithe Ape militiamen, 149 Crouching Ox Militiamen, 183 Alchemical auxiliary soldiers, 37 Alchemical Warhounds, and 126 alchemical crows. The Soul Fire limit is 12,380, with 796 remaining. The remaining funds are 118,075 Gold Sols.”

“So, the Soul Fire has increased by 7,380 points, which means 246 Ant-man chiefs have been killed. That’s not right. At an average of nine thousand Gold Sols per Ant-man chief, there should be at least three hundred thousand Gold Sols left?” Victor instantly calculated the result and questioned the King.

The King replied, “My lord, please rest assured, I would never miscalculate. According to production records, you have created 188 Alchemical Warhounds in total.”

Victor said awkwardly, “Is that so? So we’ve already lost that many Warhounds.”

Ten days ago, the Alchemy Tower’s funds and Soul Fire limit had stopped increasing, which told Victor that the Ant-men near Black Fortress had been completely wiped out. No Ant-man chiefs had been spotted in the direction of the Chapman territory for a long time, and only occasionally would one from Bryat’s fief wander into Victor’s lands. It was safe to say the Ant-man plague was basically over.

So far, Victor’s alchemical militia had surpassed one thousand men, in addition to 183 Alchemical auxiliary soldiers skilled in construction and forging. Victor had deployed four hundred fifty alchemical militiamen and eighty Alchemical auxiliary soldiers in his fief, while the rest of the alchemical humans were all stationed in a secret mountain fortress. They were primarily responsible for mining the thorium and refined iron ore in the mountains, as well as planting Oilwood and Dark Astringent Fruit trees, gathering rare herbs, and prospecting for other mineral veins and resources. Compared to the mountain range that stretched for over a thousand kilometers, a mere six hundred or so alchemical humans was a very limited force. Yet, the Alchemy Tower’s Soul Fire limit was no longer growing, meaning Victor’s alchemical creatures were about to reach their maximum number.

“King, cease unrestricted production and terminate the fast-build function,” Victor ordered.

“My lord, I must remind you that once the fast-build function is terminated, this feature of the Alchemy Tower will be permanently damaged,” the King warned Victor.

“Just do it!” Victor let out a breath and instructed further, “After the function is turned off, produce another eighty alchemical crows and thirty Alchemical Warhounds.”

The fast-build function was a feature enabled to deal with the Ant-man plague. It greatly increased production speed but also raised production costs by 50%. Now that the Ant-man plague was essentially over, there was no need to increase the manufacturing cost of alchemical creatures. With only 796 Soul Fire and 118,075 Gold Sols remaining in the Alchemy Tower, Victor had to go back to a life of careful budgeting.

“The fast-build function has been disabled. A new production queue has been established.” As the King’s message came through, the form of the runes above the Element Extraction Altar changed accordingly. “Manufacturing eighty alchemical crows and thirty Alchemical Warhounds will cost a total of 28,000 Gold Sols. The Alchemy Tower’s remaining Soul Fire is 596, with 90,075 Gold Sols in funds.”

The mountain range to the west of the Randell Fief stretched into the Dodor Kingdom, its full length an unknown number of thousands of kilometers. If Victor wanted to monopolize the mountains’ resources, he had to replace the dire animals and monsters with Alchemical Warhounds, while also intimidating any Wildmen who might try to make a living in the mountains. Alchemical crows, in coordination with Alchemical Warhounds, could achieve this. However, an alchemical crow’s reconnaissance radius was four hundred kilometers; beyond that distance, it would return to the position where it first received its orders. Therefore, Victor planned to establish five outposts in the mountains, each spaced three hundred kilometers apart, to monitor and control a one-thousand-five-hundred-kilometer stretch of the mountains. Each outpost would consist of a team of three Crouching Ox Militiamen, seven Lithe Ape militiamen, thirty alchemical crows, and ten Alchemical Warhounds. He would then create several mobile teams to patrol these outposts in rotation, providing support and supplies.

The mountains were rich in resources, and for alchemical creatures designed to gather them, controlling and exploring the area presented no difficulty. Yet, Victor always felt that a crucial link was missing. The mountain terrain was complex and the vegetation dense, with no roads to speak of. Although the alchemical militiamen, with their Physique of 17, were immensely strong, how many minerals could they transport with just their two arms and two legs? Even with single-wheeled handcarts, how much time would it take to deliver various materials to the production and processing sites of the auxiliary soldiers? If the alchemical militiamen were the gathering units, the auxiliary soldiers the production units, the Warhounds the security units, and the crows the scouting units, then wasn’t there supposed to be a transport unit?

“King, assuming Alchemy Tower No. 7 wasn’t damaged, what other alchemical creatures would there be?” Victor asked.

The King responded, “My lord, there is also the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard. The Alchemical Dragon-Lizard is four meters long, has a shoulder height of 1.8 meters, and weighs 1,200 pounds. It possesses the following skills.”

“Omnivore: The Alchemical Dragon-Lizard has a very wide diet. It can also store water and energy in its body, allowing it to maintain vigorous stamina for fifteen days without eating or drinking.”

“Unimpeded Movement: The Alchemical Dragon-Lizard’s four limbs are thick and powerful. It can move freely even while carrying a load of 6,000 pounds. Its claws are sharp and tough, able to grip rock firmly, allowing it to climb steep slopes. It has the ability to breathe underwater and can inflate its body with air to cross swamps, lakes, or deserts while carrying a 1,500-pound load. The Alchemical Dragon-Lizard has a strong digging ability, enabling it to travel underground. Because it has an organ for storing air, it can persist for twelve hours even in environments with thin air.”

“Elemental Resistance: The Alchemical Dragon-Lizard can resist 40% of elemental damage and can adapt to extremely cold or hot environments.”

“Extraordinary Regeneration: The Alchemical Dragon-Lizard has extremely potent life force. As long as its brain and three hearts are not severely damaged, all other injuries can heal on their own, including regenerating severed limbs. However, this process consumes a large amount of food, and the recovery time is related to the severity of the injury.”

“Alchemical Dragon-Lizard stats: Physique 25, Spirit 12, Perception 20, Life 5, Lifespan 12 years. Price: 50,000 Gold Sols.”

Even though he was mentally prepared, Victor was still stunned. The Alchemical Dragon-Lizard was far more powerful than he had imagined. This transport unit seemed capable of going anywhere except the sky. Of course, its price was also astonishingly high, but considering its 25 Physique and its elemental attributes at 0 Perception, the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard was a creature comparable to a Bronze-rank Knight. Its strength and speed would certainly far exceed a Bronze Knight’s, given its massive body. Fifty thousand Gold Sols for a Bronze-rank dire animal was definitely not expensive!

Thinking that the Alchemy Tower had only 90,000 Gold Sols left, Victor said with a pang of regret, “King, why didn’t you tell me earlier?!”

The King replied, “My lord, you never asked. Besides, the Alchemy Tower cannot currently produce the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard.”

Victor fell silent for a moment, then asked, “King, besides requesting help from a superior, is there any other way to repair the Alchemy Tower?”

“My lord, the Alchemy Tower was designed for war. The Alchemical Empire, considering the possibility of war zones being overrun, also designed an emergency repair method. The Law Crystals of Alchemy Towers can be fused with each other. A superior Tower Spirit’s Law Crystal can repair itself by absorbing the Law Crystal of an inferior Tower Spirit. However, it can only repair its own functions and cannot acquire additional ones,” the King relayed.

Victor quickly asked, “What level of Tower Spirit are you?”

“The lowest level,” the King replied, without a hint of embarrassment.

“Then isn’t that the same as having no solution?” Victor said, deflated.

“My lord, I can absorb a Law Crystal that has no Tower Spirit. The problem is, I am the only Alchemy Tower,” the King said.

“I can confirm that besides you, at least one other Alchemy Tower has survived to this day, and it definitely has no Tower Spirit!” Victor said with a meaningful smile.

“My lord, are you referring to the Ant-men?”

“That’s right. There must be an Alchemy Tower near the Ant-men’s birthplace! The fact that you can’t contact it means you are likely the only Tower Spirit. Of course, I’m not going to walk to my death at the Ant-men’s nest. However, since two Alchemy Towers have managed to survive until today, perhaps there are others in other places. Now, tell me, do all Alchemy Towers have Law Crystals?” Victor asked.

“My lord, the Law Crystal is the Alchemy Tower. As long as a Law Crystal is placed at a nexus of the four elements, it can create alchemical creatures.”

“Uh, how do you absorb a Law Crystal?”

“My lord, you can either bring me to it, or bring that Law Crystal here. As long as the two Law Crystals overlap, absorption can occur.”

Victor frowned and asked, “Can I retrieve other Law Crystals? How can I find one?”

“My lord, you have the authority of the Alchemical Empire, so you can retrieve any un-owned Law Crystal. As for how to search for Law Crystals, I have no relevant information on that,” the King said.

Just as Victor was about to ask another question, Reno walked in. “My lord, we’ve just received news that a squad of twenty soldiers has entered that forest. Judging by their equipment, they are from the Briatte family.”

“Heh, they’ve finally come. Send two Warhounds to greet them,” Victor said with a smile.

————————————————

Royal Capital of Gambis, Grand Duke’s Residence.

“Soren, who do you plan to send to manage the viscounty in the Centaur Hills?” Grand Duke Williams asked a young man with a smile.

“Grand Duke, I plan to let my younger brother, Antony, manage that fief on my behalf.”

The man answered with utmost respect. He was none other than Williams’s trusted confidant, the Commander of the Royal Capital’s Imperial Guard, Viscount Soren Wimbledon. Soren had a well-proportioned build and a handsome face, with black hair and deep blue eyes. If one looked closely, one could see a blue light flowing deep within his eyes, as if a storm of lightning was constantly churning within—these were by no means normal eyes.

Williams nodded. “Very well. I will arrange the relevant matters. You’ve just returned from Minsk and must be tired from the journey. Go back and rest for now.”

“I will take my leave then, Grand Duke.” After bowing to Williams, Soren was led out of the reception hall by the steward.

Only after Soren’s carriage had driven out of the manor’s main gate did Williams turn to his Guard Captain and ask, “Soren’s eyes are tinted by the wind element to such an extent. It seems he’s about to break through to the Gold realm? Walus, what is Marquess Golan’s opinion on Soren reaching the Gold realm?”

“Tutor Golan says that Lord Soren is very talented and is a rare wind-element Great Knight, but if he tries to advance to the Gold rank through normal means, he will most certainly die!” Walus replied in a somber tone.

“Because of the Wimbledon family’s marquessate?” Williams muttered to himself.

But Walus interjected, “Your Highness, although a court marquessate title is not comparable to being a viscount with a fief, it holds a special meaning for Lord Soren. The conflict between the old Marquess Wimbledon and Soren’s father has had a great impact on him. Lord Soren once swore an oath to reclaim the status and honor that belonged to his father. If this vow is not fulfilled, no matter how great his talent, he will have no chance of survival under the pull of the Elemental Sea.”

As a Great Knight himself, Williams was well aware that one’s will must be firm and free of distractions to break through to the Gold realm, or one would inevitably be assimilated by the Elemental Sea. Even if Soren had already resonated with thirty-six Elemental Nodes, if he didn’t resolve his inner turmoil first, his chances of survival were less than zero.

“Speaking of which, it was I who broke my promise. When the Senate first proposed the plan for Sophia to inherit the marquessate, I originally intended to have Sophia marry Soren, killing two birds with one stone. That’s why I didn’t oppose the plan and even specifically warned off other competitors. I never expected Catherine to find that little fellow Victor in the countryside. Now the problem is no longer Sophia, but Victor. But with Sylvia protecting him, we can’t touch him. Other than the Trial of Life and Death, Soren has no other way to become a Gold Knight. It’s truly a great pity!” Williams shook his head repeatedly.

“Your Highness, it might not be a lost cause!” Walus said, his eyes glinting.

Chapter 162: Undercurrent

Gambis Royal Capital, the Grand Duke’s Residence.

An armored knight said to Grand Duke Williams, “Viscount Victor is just a minor noble. He only has two Ferocious Warriors under him, one named Narsen and the other Reno. If we just lure those two away, he won’t even be able to defend himself against a common assassin.”

Williams stared at the armored knight with a cold glint in his eyes. After a long moment, he chuckled and said, “Walus, if you hadn’t been with me since you were a boy, I would be questioning your loyalty.”

“Viscount Victor may be of no account, but we cannot ignore the York family’s reaction. Sylvia fought for Victor to receive the title of viscount and retain a large fief. On the surface, it looks like Sylvia doting on her lover. In reality, the York family is using Viscount Victor’s viscounty as a buffer to prevent other lords from being caught awkwardly between us and them. I can say with certainty that Viscount Victor’s viscounty will become an important diplomatic and trade channel for the Centaur Hills and other families. I support this as well. Now, the Sassans are playing their little trick of a marriage alliance, leaving us bewildered, the people of Dodor anxious, and the Navillians ambivalent. Whether for the sake of internal stability or to deter foreign enemies, Sylvia is someone we must rally to our side. Hmph. Perhaps Sylvia wouldn’t care about her paramour, but if the hand the York family has extended is cut off, what do you think their reaction will be? Don’t ever bring up such a suggestion again!”

Facing the Grand Duke’s rebuke, Walus bowed slightly. “Your Highness, I completely agree with your assessment. A Gold Knight would never be swayed by beauty. Who Sylvia truly wants to protect is Sophia, or rather, the merchant association she controls. For the next few years, the Centaur Hills will need to supplement its resources from the outside, making Sophia’s merchant association extremely important to the York family. According to our Night Owl’s investigation, both Sophia and Sylvia come from minor noble families in the Kingdom of Sus. The difference is, Sylvia joined the York family, while Sophia joined the Wimbledon family’s merchant association. Although it’s still unclear how the two of them met, their relationship is indeed very close. I believe that if it weren’t for Sophia, Sylvia wouldn’t care whether Viscount Victor lived or died. Coincidentally, Viscount Victor founded the House of Randell. And Sophia now has the status of the Viscount’s wife. If Viscount Victor were to have an accident, we could have Sophia inherit the lands and title of the House of Randell. This way, the York family’s buffer would still exist, Lord Soren could inherit the title of Marquess, and you might gain a loyal Gold Knight, just like the relationship between your great-grandfather and Tutor Goron.”

A flicker of light crossed Williams’s eyes. Since Ryan’s death, he felt the entire future of the Auguste family resting on his shoulders, a burden so heavy he could barely move forward. By rights, Roland was first in line to the throne, and Williams was second. As for that little fellow Edward, he didn’t even count as third. But Roland was unwilling to inherit the throne and instead supported Prince Edward, and there was nothing Williams could do about it. The root cause was that Williams had no Gold Knight under his command. If Soren could truly reach the pinnacle, Williams’s situation would become much easier. Even if he couldn’t ascend the throne directly, many of his policies could be implemented smoothly. However, in Williams’s heart, the fate of his family was more important than the throne, and he had to consider the risks involved.

Williams shook his head slowly and firmly. “The dignity of a Gold Knight is not to be challenged. Never mistake Sylvia’s forbearance for weakness. Even if you have a point, we cannot take the risk. Sylvia has already accepted Her Majesty Catherine’s invitation to participate in this year’s Royal Hunt Gala. Right now, stability trumps all.”

The Sassan Emperor had deliberately spread rumors of a marriage alliance with Gambis, stirring up undercurrents and endless turmoil among the three kingdoms. Facing such unofficial rumors, the Gambis Royal Family had no official grounds to make a public statement. And because Gambis had no King, private promises were difficult for Dodor and Naville to trust. Not long ago, Marquess Hedin, a Gold Knight from the Kingdom of Naville, had accepted the King of Dodor’s invitation and led his personal guard on a visit to the Dodorian royal capital. This would normally be a perfectly ordinary exchange, but in the eyes of the Auguste family, it had a different flavor. It was in this strange atmosphere that the Auguste family needed to convey to the outside world that Gambis was united and impregnable, which led to Queen Catherine inviting the kingdom’s lords to the royal gala.

As a high-ranking member of the Night Owl organization, Walus was well aware of this. He said, “Your Highness, Viscount Victor is an enfeoffed lord of Gambis. Of course, we would not move against him. But some things… are beyond our control.”

“What do you mean?” Williams demanded with a frown.

“Well, we just received a piece of news. Her Majesty Queen Eleanor of Sus’s lover, Clovis Wimbledon, was assassinated. Eleanor is furious and has sworn to catch the murderer to avenge her beloved.”

“From the killer’s methods, the culprit who murdered Clovis Wimbledon strongly resembles that notorious Throat-slitter. And not long ago, Night Owl received a request from Minister of Internal Affairs, Marquess Ludwig… The Marchioness’s legitimate grandson’s fiancée, Michelle, was also killed by the Throat-slitter. These two victims have one thing in common: they were both Moon Elf bloodline Awakened. It seems this Throat-slitter has targeted the Moon Elf bloodline. And as it happens, Viscount Victor is also a Moon Elf bloodline Awakened!”

“Interesting!” After a moment of contemplation, Williams smiled meaningfully.

The Throat-slitter was shrouded in mystery. Whether he was one person or several was impossible to verify, nor was there a need to. In fact, many murders were blamed on the Throat-slitter, a fact the nobles were all well aware of. In Williams’s view, these two murders might have no connection at all, and the victims’ shared bloodline was purely a coincidence. However, such a coincidence could be exploited. Just as Walus had said, Viscount Victor was just an insignificant minor noble. When Sophia inherited the Randell title and lands, Sylvia would have no reason to lash out. As for Sophia losing the merchant association and the marquessate, she could be compensated in other ways. In the current situation, neither territory nor supplies could compare to a Gold Knight.

“Walus, the Throat-slitter just committed a crime in the Kingdom of Sus. It would take at least half a year for him to reach Gambis, wouldn’t it?”

“Your Highness, I understand.”

“Also, go tell Soren that if he inherits the title of Marquess, that viscounty will be gone.”

“Your Highness, I imagine Lord Soren will be eternally grateful to you.”

At the center of Baron Matthew’s fief stood a thirty-meter-high greystone castle. The mottled castle walls were covered in moss and houseleeks, a testament to the passage of time. This castle, which had weathered a century of wind and frost, was sturdy and practical. The interior, however, felt cramped, dark, and damp, just like most baronial castles; minor lords often lacked the wealth to decorate the rooms within.

Clearly, living in such an ancient fortress was not a pleasant affair, so Baron Matthew Briatte spent most of his time in the manor behind the castle. At this very moment, Baron Matthew was in the manor’s reception room, listening to a subordinate’s report.

A soldier knelt on one knee before Baron Matthew, his face still pale with fear. “They came without any warning. I saw them rush out of the forest, and in an instant, they were right in front of us. The crossbow bolts we fired couldn’t even touch them. Although we used our shields and spears to fight them, Mort was still dragged away. We heard his screams but could do nothing. We stood back-to-back, huddled tightly together. I could feel those beasts staring at us, waiting for us to let our guard down so they could drag another one of us away. Our only choice was to retreat in a tight formation. They only gave up the chase after we left the forest.”

Baron Matthew was also terrified. Though he was a lord, he was not a Knight. Dire wolves were a nightmare for him as well, but as a lord, he could not allow himself to show such an expression.

“Kade, you did well! Your decisiveness saved the others. Go and get some rest. Also, send fifty Gold Sols in compensation to Mort’s family. Tell his parents that Mort was a brave warrior, and his heir can take his place.” Baron Matthew said to the soldier in a solemn voice.

After the profusely grateful soldier left the reception room, Baron Matthew turned to two knights in heavy armor and said, “There have always been rumors of dire wolves in that territory. It seems my poor subjects have already ended up in the wolves’ bellies. There’s no need to investigate this matter any further.”

“My lord is right. We should issue a notice to all the villages, forbidding the villagers from foraging in that forest,” the older knight said to Matthew. The younger knight, however, shot him a look of displeasure before turning to Baron Matthew. “Father, over three hundred people in more than twenty days, and not a single one has made it back. Do dire wolves really have such big stomachs? There must be something wrong here, and we must investigate it thoroughly! Otherwise, who knows what kind of disaster awaits us.”

“This…” Baron Matthew said, troubled. “James, my son, you must understand me. Our family’s strength is not great. That forest is far from us, and dire wolves are notoriously difficult to deal with. Not even the Ant-man tide could kill them. I think it’s best to report this to Wildwillow City and let the Viscount send someone to handle it.”

Baron Matthew’s rambling words made James feel ashamed and angry. He saw it as a sign of cowardice, failing to sense the worry his father had for him.

“The Viscount? What Viscount does the family have now? Lord Aubes died in the Ant-man tide, and that shameless scoundrel Austin is plotting to usurp his own nephew’s title. Do you think he’ll pay us any mind? Father, Lady Judy is my sister, your daughter! Yet we can’t help her, and now you want us to ask her for help?”

Watching James storm out of the manor, Baron Matthew leaned back weakly in his chair, seeming to have aged several years in an instant. The older knight whispered to Baron Matthew, “My lord, I’ll follow him secretly. If there’s any danger, I can support James.”

“No!” Baron Matthew pressed down hard on the older knight’s shoulder, his fingers turning white before he said slowly, “Francis, the family needs its knight to stand guard! James will be fine.”

Chapter 163: The Mystic Form’s Might

James led three apprentice knights, fifteen elite soldiers, four experienced hunters, and over a dozen hounds through the dense forest. Their swords were drawn, their crossbows strung. The palpable killing intent silenced the insects, startled the birds into flight, and made the beasts cower. The entire forest fell silent, with only the heavy thud of their footsteps and the panting of the hounds echoing in their ears.

Baron Matthew’s master of the hunt called back the hounds that were sniffing around everywhere and said, “Young Master, we won’t find the dire wolves this way. Those beasts are extremely vigilant; they’ll hide far away at the slightest sign of trouble. They are incredibly fast and move without a sound. They are both ferocious and cunning. They’ll observe us from the shadows, pick off the weak, and attack the moment we let our guard down. They’ll wear us out until we can no longer maintain our tight formation. That’s when they’ll begin their hunt.”

James frowned slightly. He had never seen a dire wolf, but he knew they were exceptionally troublesome beasts. While a single dire wolf’s strength wasn’t overwhelming, they possessed an extremely keen intuition for danger. Without the right methods, not even a Great Knight could hope to find them.

“Old Barde, do you have a plan?” James asked the old retainer.

Hunting was an important recreational and social activity in a noble’s life. The master of the hunt, responsible for organizing these events, might not be the best hunter, but he was certainly the most knowledgeable. Barde had not only inherited the position of master of the hunt from his father but also a great deal of knowledge about hunting. He knew the best way to deal with dire wolves was to not provoke them at all, as they rarely left their own territory. But this was clearly not the advice James wanted to hear.

Barde sighed and said, “Young Master, if we want to drive the dire wolves away, we could summon the army and kill every last piece of game in this forest. With no food, the dire wolves would have no choice but to leave. If we want to hunt them, you’d have to lie in wait near a water source for a very long time.”

James’s face darkened. Though Old Barde didn’t specify how long “a very long time” was, it surely wouldn’t be just a day or two. However, James had no time to waste here with dire wolves.

“We’re not here to hunt dire wolves; we’re here to find clues. Hmph! I refuse to believe that dire wolves could devour several hundred people without leaving so much as a bone. Old Barde, find a way to locate the victims’ remains. I want to see just who is behind this!”

Barde looked troubled. It was impossible to find clues in the forest without spreading out his men. The problem was, with dire wolves on the prowl, telling everyone to search separately was no different from sending them to their deaths. Yet, seeing the look on Young Master James’s face, he knew he had to solve this problem, or James might erupt on the spot.

“Then, Young Master, our only choice is to send out the Godzilla Bear-hounds to search,” Barde said, gritting his teeth.

Godzilla Bear-hounds had a keen sense of smell, were large and strong, and had a courageous, loyal, and fearless temperament, making them an outstanding breed capable of fighting fierce beasts. Godzilla Bear-hounds were rare and expensive, and owning them was a matter of great dignity for a noble. The bear-hounds James had brought were a gift from his sister, Lady Judy, to bolster her family’s prestige. Baron Matthew usually treated them like priceless treasures. If James himself hadn’t insisted on dealing with the dire wolves, Baron Matthew would never have allowed Barde to bring them out.

James also hesitated. As formidable as the Godzilla Bear-hounds were, they were still just hounds and were no match for dire wolves. But the thought of several hundred people vanishing so mysteriously convinced him he had to get to the bottom of it, lest disaster strike without warning.

“Release the hounds!”

Over a dozen powerful bear-hounds split into three groups and ran off in different directions, while James and his men stood guard. According to their training, these bear-hounds would search a five-kilometer radius and would sound an alarm if they discovered any fierce beasts.

Time ticked by. Just as Barde was beginning to relax, the frantic barking of a bear-hound erupted from the south. James commanded, “Let’s go!”

James’s men were either elite soldiers or veteran hunters. They moved swiftly through the woods, and it wasn’t long before they saw several bear-hounds snarling and barking at a troop of men. These men were clad in armor and armed to the teeth, their builds formidable. Upon seeing James’s party, they immediately raised their crossbows in a defensive posture, and James’s men reacted in kind. In an instant, the situation grew tense, with swords drawn and bows bent, the air thick with hostility.

James’s pupils contracted. The group of well-equipped soldiers opposite him numbered over thirty. Their leader wielded two vicious-looking one-handed battleaxes and was completely encased in blue-black armor. James didn’t recognize the metal of the armor, but he could tell that neither the battleaxes nor the armor had the unique purplish-gold luster of Adamantine. This meant the man before him was likely not a Great Knight, because even if a Great Knight lacked Mithril equipment, they would not be without Adamantine equipment.

Having made his assessment, James drew his Adamantine longsword, but before he could shout a challenge, the black-armored warrior opposite him spoke first.

“Who are you? Why have you appeared in our territory?”

The black-armored warrior’s voice was deep, resonant, and piercing. James felt his ears ringing, and his heart skipped a beat. He responded, “I am Lord James of the Briatte family. And who are you?”

“I am Lord Narsen of the House of Randell. Lord James, what are you doing in the forests of our House of Randell with so many soldiers?” the black-armored warrior asked in a deep voice, pushing up his visor.

“House of Randell? Lord Narsen?” James was somewhat bewildered. He had never heard of the House of Randell. He did, however, know Narsen as a trusted subordinate of the neighboring lord, Baron Victor Wimbledon, and that he was not a Knight, merely a Savage warrior. Still, Baron Victor held the title of Pioneer Lord, which gave him the right to establish new families and grant his men investiture as lords, so it was not entirely out of the question.

James didn’t need to dwell on these questions. The key was to figure out if these people were connected to the missing villagers.

“Lord Narsen, we’ve had over three hundred villagers go missing in this forest. I am here to investigate this matter. Does your House of Randell know anything about this?”

Narsen nodded. “Indeed, many freemen have come to this forest to hunt recently. Coincidentally, there are dire wolves active here. After we dissuaded them, those people have since gone to Rivermouth Village to make a living.”

“Freemen? Hmph! Most of those people were villagers from Baron Matthew’s fief, many of them subjects and vassals. How dare you detain the people of the Briatte family?!” James questioned angrily.

Narsen responded, “Detain? The movement of freemen is normal. Those who wished to stay, stayed. Those who wished to leave, have already left. House Randell would not detain the people of another house, nor do we have enough food to feed them.”

“Over three hundred people, and not one has returned! How do you explain that?” James asked, his face grim.

“You say they didn’t return, so they didn’t return? If no one went back, how did you know to come looking for people in this forest?” Narsen’s eyes widened, and he added mockingly, “At the end of the day, isn’t this all about you trying to seize our territory?” Narsen lowered his visor and raised his axes. “There’s no use talking anymore. One-on-one, or all at once. Pick one!”

When encountering others in the wild, both humans and monsters followed a single principle: might makes right. Knights were no exception. James hadn’t come to occupy the land—with dire wolves active, this forest was no longer worth taking—but since he had met a seemingly equal opponent, a test of strength was necessary to establish who had the right to speak.

“Lord Narsen, please remember, we nobles speak of ‘duels’ and ‘pitched battles.’ ‘One-on-one’ and ‘all at once’ is the language of the lower-class.” James lowered his own visor, struck his shield with his sword, and declared, “A duel!”

For knights, an encounter in the wild was either a pitched battle or a duel. The difference was that in a pitched battle, the knights on both sides would slaughter all of the opposing elite soldiers before settling their own scores. A duel, on the other hand, involved the strongest combatants from each side fighting directly to determine the outcome. Generally, unless they were mortal enemies, knights would choose to duel and allow their opponent to surrender.

James was fully confident he could defeat Narsen, so he was naturally unwilling to sacrifice his elite soldiers. On the other hand, he also had to consider the York family behind the House of Randell. Besides, defeating Narsen would allow him to demand a hefty ransom from Baron Victor. James had already decided he wouldn’t ask for Gold Sols this time, but grain.

“It’s the same difference.”

Narsen snorted. The muscles in his legs contracted sharply, and with no warning, he lunged at James. Power surged through his bones and muscles, channeling into his hands. The refined iron one-handed axe tore through the air with a terrifying boom as it chopped down toward his opponent.

The fearsome blow surprised James. Narsen’s strength was approaching the peak of a Bronze Knight. James knew he absolutely could not take this axe head-on.

If he couldn’t take it head-on, then he simply wouldn’t! Boosted by his Aura, the four elements surged through James, causing his Spirit, Perception, and strength to skyrocket and fuse into a harmonious whole. He raised his sword and slammed it hard against the side of the battleaxe. Stepping forward, hiss—his sharp Adamantine longsword transformed into a streak of light, shooting straight for Narsen’s throat.

The source of a knight’s power lay in the unity of spirit and body. Even more powerful savage beasts often fell to a knight’s blade, and Savage warriors were no exception. A few months ago, Narsen would have been thrown into disarray by such a fierce counter-attack, forced onto the defensive. But he had not only cultivated the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form to increase his strength but also the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form to enhance his perception. The combination of the two had greatly increased his combat prowess.

The Spirit Monkey Mystic Form focused on training the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, and body, pursuing the unity of mind and body, where thought and action were one, without hesitation or obstruction. At a high level, its principles converged with the knight’s unity of spirit and flesh. Narsen’s practice of the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form was still in its early stages, far from a knight’s standard. However, the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form had another trick up its sleeve. It also pursued the art of prediction, its highest realm being the ability to sense the autumn wind before it blows—a combat skill ordinary knights did not possess. From the moment the fight began, Narsen had fixed his gaze on his opponent’s shoulder, elbow, hip, and knee. James’s every twitch of the shoulder, lift of the elbow, bend of the knee, and twist of the hip had already revealed his next move.

Narsen sidestepped James’s Thrust and stomped his right leg down hard. The earth beneath his foot instantly shattered as he shot toward James like a cannonball. The Ox-Subduing Mystic Form made Narsen’s strength flow as one, giving it an explosive power. His charge was like that of a charging behemoth, utterly unstoppable.

James raised his kite shield to block Narsen’s charge and took several steps back with the momentum. But Narsen pressed on relentlessly, his offence as fierce as a wildfire, intent on expanding his advantage until his opponent was crushed.

James parried left and right, but he could not regain the upper hand. He finally realized that Narsen’s strength was in no way inferior to his own. The idea of holding back to capture his opponent was now impossible. A sharp glint flashed in James’s eyes. He blocked a heavy blow with his refined iron kite shield and used the immense force to spin, tossing aside the now-deformed shield. Gripping his sword with both hands, he unleashed a Counter-Slash at Narsen’s waist!

The Counter-Slash was a knight’s combat technique that used the momentum from a parry to launch a powerful counter-attack. This strike was equivalent to the combined force of both men. James held nothing back. The sharp Adamantine longsword became a streak of flowing gold as it swept toward Narsen’s waist, aiming to cut him in two. As for the trouble that would follow from killing Lord Narsen, it would be fine as long as he killed all the survivors. In the wild, status didn’t matter, only strength.

James held nothing back, but Narsen had. A living knight was always worth more than a dead one. However, to defeat an opponent without killing them required a level of strength far superior to theirs. Faced with the knight’s ferocious counter-attack, Narsen finally unleashed his full power. The muscles beneath his armor turned a blue-black, squirming like great serpents under his skin. In that moment, his body became as hard as iron and stone, his strength reaching an incredible level.

Instead of retreating, Narsen advanced. One axe swung at James’s head, while the other moved to intercept the Adamantine longsword. Even though this was James’s momentum-fueled Counter-Slash, Narsen was confident he could block the sword.

James sneered inwardly. If a refined iron weapon could contend with an Adamantine one, Narsen’s only fate was to be cleaved in two, axe and all. Sure enough, as sword met axe, the refined iron battleaxe shattered on impact, and the longsword slammed squarely into Narsen’s waist. However, the outcome James expected did not occur. The Adamantine longsword scraped against Narsen’s armor, sending a shower of sparks flying and leaving a deep gash, but it failed to breach the armor.

James couldn’t believe his eyes. But how could he have known that the armor Narsen wore was Thorium equipment, forged from Thorium and the carapace of an Ant-man chief? Back then, even a Silver Knight like Gillian of the Chapman family had failed to cut the Ant-man chief in two with a full-powered strke, a testament to the toughness of the Ant-man carapace. Fortified with Thorium, the defense of this Ant-man armor had been raised to an even higher level. Let alone a normal Knight like James, even a Silver Knight would not have been able to cleave through this suit of armor. At most, they would have sent him flying and killed him with the sheer impact.

Narsen, of course, was not sent flying. And so, the victor was decided. Narsen’s axe pointed at James’s forehead as he said coldly, “You lose!”

James’s expression flickered. Setting aside the monstrous armor, the fact that Narsen had withstood that blow without moving and had controlled his own axe so freely was enough to prove that his strength far surpassed his own. At this thought, James let out a long sigh and dropped his Adamantine longsword.

“I request treatment befitting my station.”

“Of course!”

Narsen couldn’t help but laugh out loud. This was the first time he had defeated a noble and powerful Knight in a direct confrontation, and he knew it was only the beginning.

“The Mystic Forms! And I haven’t even reached the highest realm yet!”

Chapter 164: A Favor to Ask

“Baron Matthew’s fief is fifteen hundred square kilometers in area, with seventeen villages, six manors, and two towns—Golden Creek Town and Sandor Town. The total population is around nine thousand, with over three thousand of them being freemen. However, most of the freemen in Baron Matthew’s fief are not refugees, but descendants of vassals and subjects. They are very loyal to the fief and can be armed as militia at any time.”

“Baron Matthew usually resides in Sandor Castle. He has six lords under him, five of whom are descendants of knights enfeoffed by the Baron’s family over generations. Currently, these five lordly families have only one Knight and fifteen apprentice knights among them. Including the Baron’s son, Lord James, Baron Matthew has two Knights and fifteen apprentice knights at his command. He also has over two hundred professional guards, fifty elite personal guards, and thirty light cavalry. He can mobilize three thousand armed militiamen. Among the barons of the Briatte family, Baron Matthew is considered one of the more powerful.”

“The Baron himself is an ordinary noble, known for his generosity and modesty, and is deeply loved by his people. He has one son and one daughter. The son is Sir James the Knight, and the daughter, Judy, is a renowned beauty who caught Viscount Briart’s eye at the age of fifteen and became the Viscount’s wife. Golden Creek Town was the betrothal gift from Viscount Briart to the Matthew family. Besides his children, Baron Matthew has three sisters and one younger brother. One of his sisters is married to a Silver Knight of House Sorim, and the Baron’s brother is a knight in service to House Sorim.”

Barol glanced with reverence at Victor, who was toying with the wind elements, and then stood respectfully, awaiting his master’s further questions.

A stream of blue air coiled around Victor’s index finger. Wind was originally colorless; its blue appearance was the manifestation of the void’s wind element. The blue void wind element spun faster and faster around his fingertip, emitting a series of whimpers and wails. Feeling the tyrannical wind element chafing at its confinement, Victor flicked his finger, and the element shot toward an iron golem target five meters away. With a bang, the refined iron golem shook violently. The spot struck by the wind element rippled with air currents, and the sound of tearing silk instantly filled the room.

The refined iron golem showed no obvious damage. Victor shook his head in resignation. This strike was enough to injure an unarmored commoner, but it was still a far cry from the Azure Moon described by Sword Saint Draven. Still, to be able to manifest the void’s wind element was a significant step, especially since he had only been practicing the Azure Moon combat technique for a few months. Composing himself, Victor smiled at Barol. “For Quicksilver to find out so much in such a short time, I am quite satisfied.”

“My lord, this is just the most basic information, obtainable with a few simple inquiries. It’s really nothing,” Barol replied humbly.

Victor’s eyes lit up. “Oh? Is there something you’d like to add?” he pressed.

Barol nodded. “My lord, based on the intelligence from Quicksilver, I’ve discovered many problems within Baron Matthew’s family. With Viscount Briart’s death in battle, Baron Matthew has lost his greatest backer and now faces pressure from the Viscount’s younger brother—Lord Austin. This can be seen in the Baron’s forced collection of tribute. Baron Matthew is considered a benevolent lord; for him to insist on collecting tribute even after his subjects have suffered a disaster, he must be under immense pressure. This also shows that Lady Judy is no longer able to influence the Briatte family’s decisions. Because Lord Austin has already been promoted to Great Knight.”

Victor frowned. “I want to hear your thoughts. Speak freely!”

“Yes.” Barol then detailed his analysis.

It turned out that when the Ant-men invaded Bryat’s fief, Viscount Briart was returning to Wildwillow City from Golden Creek Town after a family visit with his wife and child. When they encountered the enemy, the Viscount led his personal guard to draw the Ant-man swarm away to protect his wife and son. The Garrison Commander of Golden Creek Town organized over six hundred militiamen to support the Viscount. In the end, not only did they fail to save Viscount Briart, but all six hundred of those able-bodied militiamen also perished.

After the Ant-man plague ended, the families of the fallen militiamen went to Baron Matthew, weeping and begging for compensation and exemption from tribute for several years. Although Baron Matthew was a benevolent lord, coming up with tens of thousands of Gold Sol in compensation was still difficult for him. So he sought help from Wildwillow City, but to his surprise, Wildwillow City not only refused his request but also demanded that he send grain. The person in charge of the Briatte family now was Lord Austin, and Lady Judy and her son were in a precarious position.

“Baron Matthew cannot give Austin any excuse to attack Lady Judy and her son. Therefore, not only did the Baron not compensate those widows and orphans, but he also forcibly collected grain. This is tantamount to abandoning the families of those dead militiamen. In fact, most of those driven out to forage for food are those abandoned souls. The laughable thing is, Sir James completely fails to understand Baron Matthew’s intentions and still thinks his father is a weak old softy.”

Victor sighed. For a species like the nobility, benevolence was truly a luxury. Compensating the sacrificed militiamen should have been a matter of course, but with his daughter and family facing a crisis, Baron Matthew had decisively abandoned the families of those men.

Victor didn’t need a genius to figure out how Baron Matthew had operated. First, he would have issued IOUs to the families, then demanded that the village heads turn over grain, and he wouldn’t have to worry about the rest. The families that had lost their breadwinners would inevitably be ostracized by other families, as everyone had many freemen relatives. Driving out those widows and orphans would allow their own kin to gain the status of subjects. Baron Matthew just had to sit back and watch it happen to kill three birds with one stone: he would avoid paying a huge sum in compensation, send grain to the family to support his daughter, and alleviate the population pressure and conflict between the old and new within his fief. And all this without tarnishing his reputation in the slightest. The only ones sacrificed were those pitiable old, weak, women, and children.

“If Baron Matthew can’t even afford a few tens of thousands of Gold Sol in compensation, I’m afraid there’s not much to squeeze out of him. Barol, how much ransom do you think he will send?” Victor asked with a smile.

But Barol said, “My lord, if I’m not mistaken, Baron Matthew will not only send a huge ransom, but he will also come in person.”

“Haha, I have no desire to get involved in the Briatte family’s mess. If he thinks he can buy his way into a relationship with the York family through me, he’s barking up the wrong tree. But if he dares to send it, I’ll dare to take it. It can be used as funding for you lot in Quicksilver,” Victor laughed heartily.

As he was speaking, Lilia, dressed in a white gown, knocked a few times on the open door and gave Victor a sweet smile.

“Baron Matthew’s retinue is approaching Rivermouth Village.”

Victor met with Baron Matthew in his own manor.

Baron Matthew appeared to be in his forties. He wore a blue formal coat over a white fine linen shirt, with an antique-styled jeweled brooch pinned at his collar. This was very formal attire. However, the Baron’s face was etched with fatigue and haggardness, whether from the long journey, worries over family affairs, or both.

In contrast to Baron Matthew’s formal dress, Victor wore only a simple tunic with a round collar and narrow sleeves, his casual and natural manner revealing a slight disrespect. Victor realized this and smiled. “Baron Matthew, I didn’t expect you to come in person instead of sending an envoy first.”

Matthew, who had been slightly displeased, now felt awkward. When two families negotiated ransom and compensation, they usually sent envoys first. It was rare for a lord to appear in person from the start. A situation like Baron Matthew’s was almost obsequious, so he couldn’t complain about the cold reception. However, Baron Matthew’s visit this time was not just to ransom his heir; he was more eager to build a good relationship with his neighbor to gain some leverage for his own protection.

“Lord Viscount Randell, I am deeply sorry for James’s impulsive behavior. As is customary, I am willing to pay a ransom to compensate for your losses.”

Baron Matthew’s attendant placed a wooden box on the table. Inside were twenty Purple Gold Coins. Each Purple Gold Coin could be exchanged for one thousand Gold Sol at the royal house of Gambis, so twenty Purple Gold Coins were equivalent to twenty thousand Gold Sol. This was a huge sum for most barons and exceeded the typical knight’s ransom among the lords of Gambis. Victor certainly wouldn’t turn down money; his intelligence network and smuggling operation both needed a great deal of startup capital.

“Baron Matthew, you may take Lord James with you. I assure you, Lord James received the treatment he was due. In fact, he was quite satisfied with the food here.”

Baron Matthew beamed. “Thank you so much. I’m sure you already know that we are very short on food right now, so much so that my subjects have to go out in search of it.”

The two lords began to chat casually about the food problem. During their conversation, Victor learned that although the Briatte family had a great deal of fertile land, their grain reserves had always been insufficient because their population was as high as fifty thousand. Foraging and hunting had always been important means of supplementing their food supply. The Ant-man plague had caused a total crop failure, and the resources of their traditional hunting grounds could no longer fill the food gap, which led to the refugee problem. Baron Matthew expressed that he would do his best to restrain his subjects from migrating to the Randell Fief, but Victor just smiled and said:

“Lord Baron, although I am also short on food, I am willing to provide what help I can to those weak women and children. However, there are dire wolves active in that forest. Without a guide, they might die in the wolves’ jaws. Therefore, I plan to build an outpost on the outskirts of the forest to provide warnings and assistance to the people.”

The expression on Baron Matthew’s face was a sight to behold. He understood that Victor intended to take in those who had been driven out. Matthew found it hard to understand why Victor would do this. As far as he knew, the York family was in an even worse state than the Briatte family; they had even clashed with the Swift Dragon Knights over food not long ago.

Could it be that this young lord was acting out of pure benevolence?

Since Victor was willing to take on the burden, Baron Matthew was happy to see it happen. He praised, “Lord Viscount is truly benevolent!”

Victor smiled and nodded, and a tacit understanding was reached between them. Baron Matthew would instruct his men to drive the families of the deceased militiamen near the outpost, and Victor’s people would take over from there, sending them to Laketon for resettlement.

With his Alchemical militia, Victor had no shortage of strong laborers. What he needed now were stable and loyal common folk. There were still several hundred single men in Rivermouth Village, and the women and children sent by Baron Matthew could form families with them. This would help increase the people’s dependence on and sense of identity with the House of Randell. Victor had no desire for the people he trained to be easily poached by other powers.

Of course, the number of people Victor could accept was also limited. Considering that women and children ate less than adult men, fifteen hundred women and children were within the range the House of Randell could accept. Setting up an outpost would not only control the influx of people but also filter out the disabled, the elderly, the foolish, and, well, the exceptionally ugly—in short, he could select people of relatively higher quality to join the Randell Fief. Victor was confident that with Baron Matthew’s cooperation, this population movement would be completely controllable. Because without someone organizing it, the people would not dare to cross the dire wolves’ territory.

Seeing that Victor was in a good mood, Baron Matthew said at the opportune moment, “By the way, I heard that Lord Narsen’s weapon was broken. I’ve brought a piece of Adamantine to ask you, Lord Viscount, to pass it on to Lord Narsen, as thanks for his mercy during the duel.”

Victor’s mood improved even more. He laughed, “On Narsen’s behalf, I thank you for your generosity, Lord Baron.”

“This is hardly generosity,” Baron Matthew said, waving his hand. “Compared to Adamantine, which one can neither eat nor drink, it is your willingness, Lord Viscount, to part with precious grain to provide relief to those freemen that is true generosity! I have a gift for you as well.”

Baron Matthew had given money and Adamantine, peppering his speech with “My lord” and “Your lordship,” his almost humble attitude making Victor acutely feel the truth of the saying that one does not bite the hand that feeds. However, when Baron Matthew revealed a fiery red crystal, Victor could no longer be bothered with feeling awkward.

“What is this?”

“This is a flame crystal. It is not only a rare gemstone but also the most beloved element crystal of Flame Knights,” Baron Matthew replied.

Victor immediately understood. This was Baron Matthew’s true trump card for winning him over.

He thought Victor would use this crystal to curry favor with Sylvia. Victor suspected that this flame crystal was what Busuo had called Red Crystal, but with Matthew present, he couldn’t very well ask an Alchemical militiaman to confirm it.

“Lord Baron, how did you obtain a crystal like this?”

Seeing Victor’s slight eagerness, Matthew relaxed and shook his head with a sigh. “Flame crystals are extremely rare. This one was a gift from Viscount Briart. It’s a pity the Viscount died in the Ant-man tide while protecting his wife and child. This time, for the Grand Hunt organized by Her Majesty Catherine, our Briatte family has no lord to participate… it seems the Viscount’s brother, Lord Austin, has received an invitation from the royal family. Alas! It’s no wonder. Lord Austin had already pledged allegiance to Her Majesty the Queen long before the Ant-man tide. It is said Her Majesty the Queen promised to grant Lord Austin a barony, and Austin has even carried out some order for the Queen.”

Victor’s pupils contracted. He said faintly, “Is that so?”

Chapter 165: First a Pit, Then a Fortress

Victor had not forgotten the freemen unrest that had left him in such a sorry state. That turmoil taught him two things: first, a transmigrator could easily die just from failing to adapt to a new environment, and second, having no power of your own was a death sentence.

At the time, to deal with the unrest, Victor had used his Alchemical Warhounds to deter uninvited guests while having his mountain folk control the freemen’s temporary settlement. Victor thought he had handled the situation well and could weather the crisis, only learning after meeting Sylvia that the Briatte family had long since controlled the settlement. They could have instigated the freemen to attack his core territory at any moment. If not for the outbreak of the Ant-man tide, he would have had no choice but to seek shelter under the York family’s wing. Because of this, Victor harbored a considerable grudge against the Briatte family.

Baron Matthew’s seemingly provocative words were, in fact, a declaration of his position to Victor—he and Austin Briart were not on the same side. If Victor wanted to guard against the Queen and Austin, he would inevitably have to continue dealing with Baron Matthew, which was precisely what the Baron hoped for. This was why, before leaving, Baron Matthew had eagerly invited Victor to visit his manor when the time was right. To this, Victor remained noncommittal.

Victor knew that if he were to visit Baron Matthew’s manor, the Baron would find a way to let everyone know. The members of the Briatte family would then have to re-evaluate their own positions, because in the eyes of most, Victor represented the immensely powerful York family.

This was leveraging another’s power!

But it wouldn’t be easy for Baron Matthew to leverage Victor’s influence. Victor had no plans to retaliate against the Queen or Austin; the conflicts between lords were not as base as brawls between common thugs. But if an opportunity arose, Victor wouldn’t mind causing them some trouble. In short, Baron Matthew would have to demonstrate sufficient value before Victor would support him. For instance, he could send over a few more flame crystals.

Victor toyed with the flame crystal in his hand, but Lilia pouted. “Victor, why didn’t you settle the matter of the forest’s ownership with Baron Matthew? I really don’t think this crystal is worth all that land.”

Victor smiled faintly. The flame crystal was what Busuo had called a Red Crystal. Not only could it shorten the production cycle for rock bricks by five days, but it could also be used to refine purer Thorium, Mithril, and refined iron, thereby improving the quality of all kinds of equipment and reducing the loss of precious metals. Simply put, Red Crystals could dramatically increase the production efficiency, quality, and quantity of Thorium equipment.

Lilia was unaware of this, and Victor had no way of sharing his delight with her. He could only explain, “Lilia, no lord ever discusses borders, because there are no real borders.”

“How can that be? Aren’t they all marked on the maps?” Lilia cried out in surprise.

“The borders on a map are just lines, but where are those lines in reality?” Victor shook his head. “What determines ownership of a territory is strength, not a map. Whoever can actually control the land owns it. Back then, when the Chapman family controlled that mithril mine, I didn’t go and file a lawsuit against them, did I? On the map, the banks of the Goldwater River are also our territory, but in reality, the Fishmen are the lords of the riverbank. That forest is under our control, so it is ours. This is not up for discussion.”

“I see.” Lilia nodded thoughtfully, then asked, “Then are the borders on the map meaningless?”

“They are essentially meaningless. Otherwise, how could our territory be as large as ten thousand square kilometers? Wasn’t it just casually drawn by the York family? I heard that a small family in the Eastern Alliance claims to be descendants of some empire. Their territory supposedly encompasses the entire Northern Wildlands, over ten million square kilometers. And yet, they only have a single castle and two villages. Their actual territory is about the size of a lordship,” Victor said with a smile.

Lilia laughed too, but then said with disappointment, “And I thought our territory was really that big… I can’t believe it was just something the York family drew on a whim.”

“Well, how should I put this? Not every family has the right to claim territory on a map. What the York family drew wasn’t territory, but a sphere of influence. This claim is ineffective against monsters, dire animals, and freemen. It only serves as a deterrent to other noble houses. The Centaur Hills are too vast for the York family to stop other factions or freemen from entering to gather resources, hunt, or even mine for minerals. But if anyone dares to build castles and villages in the Centaur Hills, Sylvia’s Rose Knights will slaughter them. That’s why the Chapman family had to disguise themselves as freemen to mine in secret. And when the York family offered to cede sixteen thousand square kilometers of territory, what they were really doing was allowing other powers to enter the Centaur Hills and establish castles and fortresses. This puts a huge check on the York family, which is why the royal family agreed to their proposal immediately.”

“Of course, a sphere of influence and actual control are two completely different things. At the very least, monsters and beastmen won’t recognize the spheres of influence we humans draw up. Only Knights and castles can determine the ownership of territory. Knights determine the sphere of influence; castles determine the area of control. The first emperor of the Randt Empire had a famous saying: ‘Where my Knight Orders go is my domain; where my castles are built is my territory.’”

Lilia said dejectedly, “We have neither Knights nor a castle. Doesn’t that mean our territory is pitifully small?”

Victor scratched his head. His alchemical crows, in coordination with his alchemical warhounds, not only completely controlled his viscounty but also a mountainous region seven hundred kilometers long and twenty kilometers wide, and they would control even more land in the future. But he couldn’t admit his connection to the alchemical warhounds, so no one would acknowledge his sphere of influence. Thus, Victor was the opposite of other lords: his castles and villages defined his sphere of influence, while his actually controlled territory was far larger. This outward appearance of weakness despite his actual strength would bring Victor some trouble, the most prominent being the difficulty in recruiting people and ensuring stability.

Victor was surrounded by many Alchemical humans. An ordinary person might not see anything amiss, but a Knight was bound to notice something strange. Therefore, Victor would not recruit any Knights until his domain’s population exceeded ten thousand.

He could do without Knights for now, but not without a castle. Besides its defensive function, a castle was a symbol of a lord’s status. According to Victor’s agreement with Sylvia, the York family would provide the stone to build his castle. In return, Victor would produce green bricks for them and build brick kilns. Once the York family produced their first batch of rock bricks, Victor could use them to build more towns and fortresses.

Victor and the upper echelons of the York family both understood the value—and the trouble—that rock bricks represented. Only by working closely together could they minimize the impact of their introduction. “Lilia, we will have a castle. The York family is currently dismantling the castles abandoned by the Prince’s Faction, and the reclaimed stone will be supplied to us first. Of course, we’ll have to trade green bricks for it. By the way, how is the green brick production coming along?” Victor asked.

“Not ideal. The place we’re getting the clay from is too far from Brick Kiln Village, and we don’t have enough oxcarts.” Lilia shook her head and said, “Victor, why can’t we just excavate clay nearby? Why do we have to go all the way to the Goldwater River to get it?”

“Of course, it’s to dig a pit,” Victor said with a sly smile.

Sixty kilometers north of the Royal Capital of Gambia, in a vast mountain forest, the grand hunt organized by the Auguste family was being held.

Hunting was an important recreational and social activity in the lives of nobles. It originated from the pioneering actions of human Knights and embodied their martial spirit and combat skills. As such, a grand hunt held by the royal family also served as a form of military exercise. The royal family would invite powerful lords, who would bring their Knights and retainers. Following the royal family’s commands, they would coordinate to encircle and hunt their prey.

Generally, a grand hunt would be held during the Season of Wind, when the animals were fat and strong. Gambis was holding this one in the Season of Water to send an important message to the outside world: the lords of Gambis were united and invulnerable.

Banners fluttered on the hillside, with the York family’s flag planted right next to the Auguste family’s encampment. Inside a tent, Sylvia, Golan, and Roland sat facing each other. These three Pinnacle Knights were the ones who could truly decide the fate of Gambis.

“According to Night Owl’s investigation, the Sasan Empire is working with the Radiant Knights to attack a centaur tribe. It’s extremely rare for humans to launch an offensive into the Northern Wildlands. The few times it happened in history all ended in failure, with only Sword Saint Draven achieving a final victory. It’s not yet clear why the Sassans are attacking the centaur tribe, but what is certain is that nine Gold Knights from the Sasan Empire are participating in the operation. Of their remaining two Gold Knights, one is guarding their Imperial Capital, and the other is stationed on the Great Plains,” Marquess Golan said to Sylvia.

“Heh, the Sassans are unable to look south, while we in Gambis must defend against the Ant-men. This was originally the perfect opportunity for the Dodor Kingdom to retake the Great Plains, but their plans have come to nothing all because a certain princess is unwilling to get married.” Sylvia shot a sideways glance at the idle Roland.

“The Dodor people are too cowardly. They’re all a bunch of useless cowards,” Roland wrinkled her pretty nose, refusing to take the blame for the situation.

“The Dodor people have lost their edge; their opinions are irrelevant. The question now is, assuming the Sasan Crown Prince really proposes to you, will you marry him or not?” Sylvia asked Roland directly.

The atmosphere in the tent grew heavy. Marquess Golan and Sylvia stared intently at Roland. At this moment, Roland’s attitude would decide the future of Gambis. If she refused, Golan would be forced to have her crowned king to appease their allies. If she agreed, it would be an entirely different situation; at the very least, Sylvia would lean towards the Auguste family.

“Are you so sure the Sassans are being serious?” Roland retorted.

“Hmph! They’ve already drawn their swords, and you’re still doubting their resolve?” Sylvia said coldly.

Roland rested her cheek in her hand, looking vexed. “I wonder if the Sasan Crown Prince is handsome. Is he my type? If he’s young and dashing, and I reject him, will he be so heartbroken that he kills himself? Hey! What’s with the looks on your faces?”

“Take your time thinking it over! I’m going outside for some air.”

Sylvia walked out with a blank expression. Just as she reached the entrance, Golan called out to her.

“Sylvia, what if the Dodor people and the Neowestes get restless?”

“My being here is my stance!” Sylvia said, turning back. “But the stone and supplies you promised must be sent to the Centaur Hills as soon as possible. If the fortress isn’t completed before the next Ant-man plague, then I’ll have no choice but to abandon the Centaur Hills.”

Chapter 166: New Neighbors

A silver moon, like a platter, hung high in the void. Its shimmering light sprinkled down upon the earth, like water, like mist. Roland gazed at the silver moon, speechless for a long time.

“Roland, what’s wrong?”

Catherine, in full regalia and wearing a coronet, approached Roland with several attendants in tow. As she drew near, the attendants bowed and withdrew.

“I’m very angry!”

“Angry?” Catherine paused for a moment, then said, “Is it because I invited Sylvia? Roland, Gambis needs Sylvia’s support. Besides, the York family never betrayed Gambis. It’s unreasonable to blame Sylvia for Ryan’s death. Given the circumstances at the time, Ryan would never have dared to let Sylvia get involved.”

“I know!” Roland extended a flawless, slender white hand, trying to grasp a moonbeam. She said wistfully, “Sylvia has always been the female knight I admire most, the goal I’ve been chasing. After Father died in battle, I took my anger out on my idol simply because I couldn’t find the real enemy! Neowist is the Emperor of Lant; he has the right to execute any rebels, including our three royal families. Sylvia was being pushed into a corner by us, so it was understandable that she chose to stand by and do nothing. But what about the person who plotted against us? He not only schemed against Father, but now he’s targeting me! Does he really think the Auguste family is so easy to bully?!”

Catherine tried to console her, “I also desperately want to avenge Ryan, but we’ve been investigating for so long. Night Owl has practically turned over every secret agent of the Sasan Empire, but we still haven’t found a single trace of that person. Perhaps it wasn’t just one person who conspired against us, but a group of people. They are most likely within the Sasan Empire. If we want to get revenge on them, our only option is to utterly defeat the Sasan Empire. But that is by no means something that can be achieved in a short time, unless…”

“Unless I become the Empress of the Sasan Empire!” Roland sneered. “Heh, wouldn’t that just be falling right into their trap?”

Catherine was at a loss for words. In truth, Roland marrying the Sasan Crown Prince would be most beneficial to her and little Edward. With a single word from Roland, all the lords of Gambis would support Edward’s ascension to the throne, and Williams would have no choice but to concede. But Catherine also knew that the Roland who would use her own marriage as a bargaining chip would no longer be Roland.

“Roland, you should ascend the throne as Queen! Unite with Dodor and Naville, take back the Great Plains, and teach the Sasan Empire a lesson!”

Roland shook her head gently. “Catherine, don’t you understand yet? The throne has never been my ambition. I long for a life without restraints, to adventure in distant lands, to help the weak and fight the strong. Just like… just like my ancestor, wandering everywhere, taking in the sights, tasting all the local delicacies, making friends, and, hmm! Also finding a beloved partner…”

The more Roland spoke, the more excited she became. Her beautiful face glowed under the moonlight, looking absolutely radiant. Catherine, however, was rendered speechless. The ancestor of the Auguste family had been a wandering knight who loved adventure, and the outstanding scions of the Auguste family had all inherited this trait. Ryan had been just like that. Even after ascending the throne, he would often sneak out to wander, which was how he met Roland’s mother. Roland was the same. In fact, the freedom to go on adventures was the very driving force that had enabled Roland to become a Pinnacle Knight. Clearly, the conspirators had seen through this and designed their entire plot around it. At this thought, Catherine couldn’t help but shiver.

“You understand now, don’t you? Every Gold Knight has their own pursuit. Lady Sylvia wants to protect her family, Tutor Goron wants to be a paragon of loyalty, and I want freedom and adventure. These pursuits are our paths and our joys, but in the eyes of those villains, they’ve become weaknesses to be exploited. Hmph, no matter what I choose, I fall into their trap. But I absolutely refuse to let them get their way,” Roland grumbled.

“What do you plan to do?” Catherine let out a long sigh.

“I’m going to disappear!”

“What?! Disappear?”

“That’s right! I’m going to disguise myself as a freeman, hmm! A mercenary would be best. Then I’ll secretly investigate Father’s murderers, kill every last one of them, and avenge him. By then, I’ll be a Legendary Knight. I’ll challenge Neowist to a duel, kill him, and then drift away, completing a legendary tale. I’ve already thought of a name for it: The Princess’s Revenge! Haha, those villains will never guess I’d do something like this!” Roland’s eyes shone as she paced back and forth on the hill, seemingly already lost in the joy of her future success.

This seemingly childish plan was filled with unbridled creativity and unwavering resolve. If Roland disappeared, the Sasan Empire’s scheme would be completely thwarted. The iron triangle would remain stable, as Sylvia and Goron together would be enough to curb Dodor’s ambitions, while Roland could continue to advance on the path of a Knight until she stepped into the Legendary realm. Yet, Catherine couldn’t bring herself to be happy, because if Roland left, Williams’s ascension to the throne was practically set in stone. Catherine might not care about the throne, but she was afraid of what Williams might do to little Edward.

Roland saw Catherine’s worry and comforted her, “Don’t worry, I won’t leave for a few years. Before I go, I will convince Tutor Goron and Sylvia to support little Edward’s ascension to the throne. However, Uncle Williams will have to be the regent. The two of you will manage the affairs of Gambis together until Edward comes of age. To be honest, the last thing I want to see is our family fighting amongst themselves.”

“Roland, I would rather Edward not be king than have you go on such a risky adventure.” Genuine emotion filled Catherine’s voice, and tears trickled down her cheeks.

“Then I might as well be dead!”

Catherine: “…”

Victor stared at the earthen pit, now filled with rainwater, and a wave of frustration washed over him.

The pit was sixty meters long, over thirty meters wide, and two meters deep, like a fishpond. This pit, which Victor had ordered his men to dig, was not for raising fish, nor was it the foundation for a castle. It was a pit dug especially for the York family.

The York family was building a fortress at the entrance to the Great Marsh, sectioning off the surrounding three thousand square kilometers of land as their territory for defending against the Ant-men. But this territory had no rivers, only a few mountain streams, which meant it couldn’t be cultivated into enough fertile farmland. Victor happened to need a large amount of clay to fire green bricks for the York family, so he had a stroke of inspiration. He decided to excavate the clay on the border of their two fiefs, creating a giant pit. This giant pit was only six kilometers from the Goldwater River and was adjacent to the Fishmen’s territory.

Victor planned to take advantage of the Fishmen’s weakened state to persuade the York family to dig a channel from the Goldwater River to the pit, thereby creating a small reservoir.

This reservoir could irrigate several thousand mu of farmland for the York family’s fief. Once the York family got a taste of the benefits, they would support Victor’s canal project.

For this reason, despite the long distance, Victor had insisted his subjects excavate clay from this specific location. However, several consecutive days of rain had caused Victor’s plan to fall through completely. The pit was far from the size needed for a small reservoir, but the rainwater had already flooded it.

The reason for this was that the digging was too slow. He only had a little over a hundred men from his fief who could come to dig for clay. To excavate a small reservoir two hundred meters long, one hundred meters wide, and fifteen meters deep would take at least four months. If it rained in the middle of the work, there was truly nothing to be done. If he wanted to avoid the rain, Victor would need to mobilize ten thousand people to complete the project within fifteen days, but he didn’t have that many people.

“Forget it! We won’t be getting clay from here anymore. Let’s go.”

Victor returned to the manor in low spirits. He had barely sat down when Lilia came to tell him that the York family’s convoy, carrying stone, had arrived. Victor had no choice but to rally his spirits and lead his men out to greet the convoy.

The York family’s convoy stretched as far as the eye could see. It consisted entirely of large carts pulled by two bullocks each, about a hundred in total. Accompanying the convoy were several hundred able-bodied young men and a troop of elite cavalry. The cavalrymen surrounded a beautiful and captivating female knight, who gave Victor a sweet smile.

“Nicole?!” Victor exclaimed in pleasant surprise.

Nicole leaped from her horse and gracefully walked to Victor’s side. Tilting her head, she pursed her lips and smiled, “Surprised?”

Perhaps because her Aura had grown more profound, Nicole’s skin had become fairer and more supple. She looked utterly radiant and dazzling. Victor’s heart warmed, and he desperately wanted to pull her into his arms, but with hundreds of pairs of eyes on them, he only took Nicole’s small, soft hand and said, “I certainly didn’t expect this. This is a huge surprise.”

Nicole lifted her sharp chin and said proudly, “There’s an even bigger surprise. I am now Baroness Phoenix York.”

“What!” Victor asked, bewildered.

Nicole shot him a glance and said with a pout, “I’m a titled noble now, too. Lady Sylvia gave me a new name, Phoenix.”

“What did you just say? A Baroness?”

Nicole giggled, curtsied to Victor, and said, “Viscount Randell, my lord, I am your new neighbor, Baroness Phoenix York. My fief is just to the southwest of the Randell Fief.”

Southwest? The entrance to the Great Marsh?! Nicole had become the lord of that territory? This was wonderful!

Chapter 167: Deep and Abiding Love

Nicole brought over a hundred cartloads of stone. To unload the heavy limestone from the oxcarts, Victor mobilized every person he could, and together with the several hundred able-bodied men under Nicole’s command, they spent an entire day completing the task.

The limestone, which had been hewn into stone slabs and blocks, had all been dismantled from castles abandoned by the Prince’s Faction. The stones were well-shaped and stacked neatly in the open space in front of Rivermouth Village. The now-empty oxcarts would head to Brick Kiln Village to load up on green bricks and then return to Black Fortress—this was the “green bricks for a castle” agreement.

“Darling, none of the lords newly invested by our York family have castles yet. My Lady said we should build your castle first,” Nicole said in a soft, gentle voice, taking Victor’s arm.

Victor smiled. “Afraid I’ll get myself killed?”

Nicole抿嘴笑着,算是默认了.维克多虽然有白银级的战力,速度又迅捷如风,但毕竟不像骑士那样可以身披重甲且体力悠长,一旦维克多的精力耗尽就失去了突围的能力,因此城堡对于维克多这样的超凡射手来说是极大的保障.

“Nicole, thank you for coming to be with me,” Victor said sincerely, looking into her limpid eyes.

Victor and Nicole had an agreement. Once Nicole had earned enough merit for her family, she would leave the York family, join Victor’s command, and become his Knight.

However, Sylvia had summoned Nicole upon her return from the Royal Capital. She told Nicole in no uncertain terms that if she wanted to leave the family, she would first have to serve for another ten years. Just as Nicole was feeling dejected and lost, Sylvia offered to let her inherit the fief at the entrance of the Great Marsh, which would allow her to be neighbors with Victor. Nicole’s sorrow turned to joy, and she immediately agreed. Sylvia then gave Nicole a noble name, Fynikos York, and invested her on the spot as a fief-holding Baron. And just like that, Nicole became a vassal lord of the York family, her hereditary fief the three-thousand-square-kilometer stretch of land at the entrance to the Great Marsh.

Nicole had arrived in high spirits and jubilantly told Victor the whole story. Upon hearing it, Victor was both frustrated and deeply touched.

True to her style, Sylvia had sold Nicole and had Nicole count the money for her, roping Victor into the bargain. What frustrated Victor the most was that, just like Nicole, he was completely unable to bring himself to be angry with Sylvia. On the contrary, he had to be grateful to her.

Nicole had every reason to be grateful to Sylvia. A barony, a three-thousand-square-kilometer hereditary fief, living next to her Lover, able to support each other and spend their days together—one could say Sylvia had helped Nicole realize all of her dreams. But Victor, looking at it from a lord’s perspective, saw it differently.

A three-thousand-square-kilometer fief and a hereditary barony would be very attractive to most Knights. But if the fief had no rivers, no lakes, and no resources, no one would be interested even if it were ten times larger. Not only did that land have none of those things, but it also had to defend against the fearsome Ant-men. This meant that the lord who took the position would have only responsibility and risk, with no resources or income to strengthen their family. Victor suspected that no Knight in the York family was willing to be such a sucker of a lord, which was why Sylvia found Nicole to take the fall.

The York family planned to build a fortress at the entrance to the Great Marsh and station between eight hundred and one thousand five hundred soldiers there. Calculating at a rate of ten farmers to support one soldier, that barony would need at least ten thousand farmers. Including their families, that would be at least twenty thousand people. However, the land was mostly hilly, with no rivers or lakes, relying solely on mountain streams. It couldn’t support two thousand people, let alone twenty thousand. The York family would have to transport provisions, and with a twenty-day journey, the cost of feeding men and horses would be enormous. The best solution, then, was to purchase supplies from neighboring lords. Victor’s agricultural and pastoral system had given Sylvia hope; she believed that Randell Fief’s production could meet the fortress’s needs. That was why she had duped Nicole into coming here. Who else but Nicole, Victor’s woman? A little pillow talk, a little coquetry, a little feigned temper, and anything could be arranged.

Compared to the wise and resourceful Sylvia, Nicole was undoubtedly a simple, naive girl. She wouldn’t consider things like family, lordship, or barren land. Nicole only wanted to be near Victor, nothing more. Victor knew he could not be like Nicole. Faced with her deep affection, he could only feel moved and grateful.

A smile playing on her lips, Nicole nestled her head against Victor’s shoulder and said, “My Lady attended the royal hunt and has already reached a consensus with the royal family. Once the Season of Water is over, the kingdom will organize the surrounding lords to send us supplies and stone. The family will dispatch twenty-five thousand able-bodied men to my fief to prioritize building a fortress at the exit of the Great Marsh.”

“Twenty-five thousand able-bodied men?” Victor asked, his expression turning serious. “With so many people, how will you handle food, shelter, and transport? What about security? Who will be responsible for organizing these men? Who is the commander of this operation?”

“The kingdom is responsible for their rations. As for the commander? Me!” Nicole said, pointing at her own nose.

“You? You’re the commander?”

Victor was astonished. Organizing twenty-five thousand men to build a fortress was no simple matter. He certainly didn’t have that kind of ability. He had never imagined Nicole possessed such skills.

“Looking down on me, are you?” Nicole pinched his arm with enough force to crush an ant.

“I’m the family’s Baron and the lord, so of course I’m the commander. But that’s just in name.” Nicole said with a grin, “I’m only in charge of supervision. The specific matters will be handled by the family’s magistrate, Garrison Commander, and Intendant. The Church will also send a Father and priests to placate the populace and supervise us. The person truly in charge is Master Edwin!”

“Master Edwin?” Victor exclaimed in pleasant surprise.

“Unexpected, right? Master Edwin is proficient in history, heraldry, monsterology, and the study of species, but his greatest expertise is in architecture. Master Edwin is one of the best master architects. Black Fortress Town was designed by his disciple. The family specially invited him back to oversee the construction of the fortress. An ordinary family could never get Master Edwin. He is our York family’s most respected scholar and our most incredible master architect!” Nicole said with pride.

Nicole had reason to be proud. The status of an architect was even higher than that of a Knight. In this world, there were no such things as the front elevations or floor plans that modern architects drew; at most, they would sketch a rough draft on a wooden board. Before starting construction on a castle, the architect would use measuring rods and plumb lines to mark out the ground plan on the site. Only for particularly difficult parts, like a vaulted ceiling, would the architect draw detailed blueprints. For the most part, however, they relied entirely on their own experience.

Thus, the architectural plans existed only in the architect’s mind, so once construction began, the architect could not be dismissed, and they also held command authority over the construction. If an architect met with an accident during the building process, it would be a devastating disaster for the castle’s construction. For this reason, a lord had to assign Knights for the architect’s personal protection and even beseech the Church’s priests to provide the security of their divine arts.

There were no more than sixty Pinnacle Knights in the world, but the master architects capable of constructing giant fortresses could be counted on one’s fingers. Master Edwin of the York family was one of them. One could imagine how high his status was. But the old man was a restless sort, always running off here and there, passionately pursuing other research interests. He had even wanted to survey the Great Marsh. Although Sylvia had assigned Bruce, the Knight under her command closest to Silver-rank, to protect him (the York family’s Silver Knights were all fief-holding lords, whom Sylvia had no authority to mobilize outside of wartime; only the royal family could command the court nobles’ Silver Knights), there was still a near-fatal accident, which had sent a cold sweat down Sylvia’s spine.

“So, Master Edwin can command those twenty-five thousand able-bodied men?” Victor asked, his eyes burning with intensity.

“Of course,” Nicole nodded.

Victor quickly asked again, “Then, can Master Edwin mobilize those people to do something else first?”

“Do something else? If we want to change the construction plan, Master Edwin, myself, and the presiding Father all have to agree,” Nicole said, knitting her fine brows. “Darling, do you want us to build your castle first?”

“Would that be too much to ask?” Victor asked deliberately.

Nicole bit her lip and said, “Not really. But your castle doesn’t require Master Edwin, nor does it need so many people. The family has other architects who can build your castle. What I mean is, if over twenty thousand people help you build your castle, the kingdom won’t cover their food. The presiding Father will make sure of that.”

“It seems I have to get the Church’s Father on my side to complete my plan,” Victor muttered to himself, stroking his chin.

Nicole had almost no resistance to Victor. She didn’t mind helping him build his castle, but she couldn’t help but worry that feeding over twenty thousand mouths would bankrupt him, so she had to remind him not to use a butcher’s knife to kill a chicken. But Victor wasn’t even thinking about his own castle. His Alchemical auxiliary soldiers, loaded with the construction skill, were each more capable than a master architect. With them and a few hundred Alchemical militia, building a castle over thirty meters high would be as easy as looking at the lines on his own palm. What Victor wanted to build was a six-kilometer-long man-made channel and a small reservoir. Once this project was completed, the subsequent canal plan would fall into place naturally. Mobilizing those twenty-five thousand-plus able-bodied men was the most crucial part of the reservoir project. To mobilize them, Victor had to persuade three people. Nicole and Master Edwin were no cause for concern; the only real problem was the Father from the Church.

“Victor, what’s your plan?” Nicole asked, her curiosity piqued.

Victor snapped back to his senses, only then realizing that the buxom, stunningly beautiful Nicole was practically nestled in his arms. A surge of warmth went through him, and he decided to handle the female knight first.

“Nicole, when are you going back?” Victor whispered softly by her crystal-clear ear.

Her cheeks blushing the color of a peach, Nicole said with a gaze like rippling water, “To-tomorrow, I suppose…”

“In that case, Baron Fynikos, I invite you to my manor to rest.”

“Ah?! A-Alright…”

As Victor led Nicole away, Old John spotted a familiar figure among the laboring crowd. It was a portly man, sweating profusely as he loaded green bricks onto an oxcart.

“Isn’t that Boss Weyrich from Amber Street?” Old John’s eyes gleamed. He struck his fist into his palm and chuckled softly, “This is great! The mercenary company has a client!”

Chapter 168: A Trade Route Paved in Blood

The day after Nicole left, Victor summoned his key personnel to the manor to discuss the matter of a freemen caravan and mercenary company.

“My lord, a typical caravan has over a hundred people, dozens of large carts, and hires two or three mercenary companies, making for about two hundred people in total. The caravan travels by day and makes camp by night. When on the move, the mercenaries are responsible for clearing the path, guarding the flanks, and covering the rear. When camped, they are responsible for perimeter security. We hardly ever go near the caravan itself; the caravan staff brings us our food.”

“When a caravan hires a mercenary company, they’re definitely planning to take a desolate route, so our main enemies are Gnolls and bandits. At night, Gnolls become bolder and more vicious, and they even command Goblins, Kobolds, and hyenas. Those Goblins and Kobolds use a kind of sling-bow to hurl rocks at us, often leaving us bruised and battered. If anyone dares to go after those mongrels for revenge, they’re sure to be dragged away by the Gnolls. To be honest, the War Bear Mercenaries wouldn’t take any job that passes through Gnoll territory without at least three mercenary companies, and we’d demand double the pay! Ai, even though our numbers are great, some rookie mercenaries always end up getting eaten by Gnolls.”

“During the day, we mainly deal with bandits, who are really just Mountain folk, or maybe freemen. Anyway, as soon as we see people—man, woman, old, or young—we kill them all, leaving no one alive! If even one gets away, the mission is considered a failure, and then it’s our turn to run for our lives.”

Perhaps recalling his mercenary life of licking blood off a blade, Old John’s pupils constricted to pinpricks, his aura turning as ferocious as that of a savage old wolf. Victor frowned. He knew the War Bear Mercenaries were no saints, but he had never imagined they would kill everyone they encountered on an escort mission. They were more ruthless than the bandits themselves.

“Why do you say that you have to run for your lives if a single person escapes? Are the Mountain folk strong enough to annihilate you all?”

Narsen chimed in to explain, “My lord, the Mountain folk are indeed quite strong, but they are still no match for us. Besides, the caravan’s own guards are even stronger than we are; they have at least a few apprentice knights among them. It’s not the Mountain folk we fear, but the people behind them. A caravan hires mercenaries to travel remote roads entirely to avoid interception by rival families. If a single person escapes, a large force will soon be on our tail. They might be dressed as bandits, but there could be Knights among them. If we don’t run then, we’re just waiting to be slaughtered.”

“So that’s how it is.” Victor nodded, then asked curiously, “Since you’ve already run away, what does it matter if the mission failed?”

“The money’s gone!” Narsen said, dejected. “When a mercenary company accepts a mission, they have to put down a large sum of money as a deposit with the employer. If the mission fails, not only is there no reward, but the deposit is gone too.”

Victor glanced at Narsen with sympathy. The War Bear Mercenary Company had once been so poor they couldn’t afford food, likely because they had no deposit money to take on missions. But it was precisely because of this that Victor had gained a group of trustworthy subordinates. Otherwise, he would have fallen completely under Sylvia’s control—after all, Sylvia had arranged a group of men for him back then.

“Iron Hammer, you came from the Mountain folk. Tell us about their situation.”

The stocky, powerfully-built Iron Hammer spoke in a deep, rumbling voice, “My lord, we Mountain folk have lived in the mountains and forests for generations, building our stockades in places that are easy to defend and hard to attack. We usually live by hunting and gathering. We trade herbs, animal hides, tendons, amber, honey, nuts, dried mushrooms, and so on with the outside villages for necessities like grain, ironware, salt, flax cloth, and sheepskins. We can also get weapons and leather armor.”

“The outside villages have a great deal of influence over the Mountain folk. We have to do what they say. Otherwise, we’ll be crushed by an army, attacked by other Mountain folk, or cut off from salt and grain. It was only after I joined the War Bear Mercenaries that I learned those villages were actually trading with us on the orders of their vassal lords.”

“When the Mountain folk discover monsters, we must report it to the villages, and then we have to cooperate with the lord’s army to clear them out. Sometimes, those Lord Village Heads also order the Mountain folk to intercept caravans. Actually, even without the Lord Village Head’s orders, we’d rob any strangers we find. We then sell the loot to the village head. If the other party has too many people, we’ll team up with other Mountain folk to rob them. If we really can’t beat them, we can still get a reward for passing the information to the outside villages.”

“The law of the dark forest!”

Victor shook his head and sighed. Lords built cities, towns, and villages near water sources and mines, and from these settlements, they controlled a radius of fifteen kilometers, enforcing laws and maintaining order. The other regions became lawless lands where the Mountain folk and freemen alike operated under the law of the dark forest. The lords used vital supplies and military force to control the Mountain folk, making them gather mountain goods, watch for monsters, and plunder caravans—this too was the law of the dark forest.

Victor had to admit that although the lords’ control over the Mountain folk was cold and merciless, it was the most efficient and lowest-cost method. However, for that very reason, the proud and untamable Mountain folk had not an ounce of loyalty to the lords. This was precisely the breakthrough point for his freemen caravan plan.

“What is the scale of the Mountain folk villages? How large an area do they control? Who are their greatest rivals? And what are the relationships between villages like?”

Iron Hammer answered Victor’s questions one by one. “A small Mountain folk village has around fifty people, and a large one won’t exceed three hundred. The larger the village, the larger the area it controls. For a village of three hundred, the area their hunters can cover in a fifteen-day trip is the village’s territory. The Mountain folk fear packs of Gnolls and dire animals the most, but the lords help them deal with the Gnolls. As for dire animals, we try not to provoke them. If we really can’t avoid one, we have no choice but to migrate, join another village, or take over another village’s territory. So, the greatest rivals of the Mountain folk are other Mountain folk who have lost their hunting grounds. The villages marry their daughters to one another, but the women have no say. The relationships between villages are ultimately decided by the issue of hunting grounds.”

Victor nodded and turned to the War Bear commander, Baritt. “You’ve been studying this for so long. What is your plan for the mercenary company?”

Baritt cleared his throat and said, “My lord, according to your requirements, the freemen caravan will first have to deal with the Mountain folk, traveling on mountain paths, through forests and wastelands. The terrain makes it impossible to use horse-drawn carts. Without carts, supplies become a problem. Therefore, the caravan and the mercenary company cannot be large; they must be small. We believe the freemen merchants and mercenaries together cannot exceed forty people. Considering safety, we propose a configuration of five merchants and thirty-five mercenaries, with seven handcarts for the freemen caravan.”

“Also, the equipment you provided, my lord, is too fine. That’s not mercenary gear; it’s the equipment of elite soldiers. I suggest the mercenary company use old weapons and armor. Otherwise, the Mountain folk will see through our identity and pass the information to the villages they trade with. A lord might tolerate a mercenary company passing through, but he won’t allow another family’s soldiers near his territory.”

At this point, Baritt hesitated. Victor smiled. “If you have something to say, just say it.”

“My lord, with insufficient supplies, we can’t bring too many people. To conceal our identity, we can’t use good equipment. The nights in the wild are extremely dangerous. We have no idea how many Gnolls, dire animals, or even Savage Gnolls we might encounter. And the Mountain folk are no pushovers; to deal with them, we’ll have to beat them into submission first. My lord, safety is truly a major problem!”

“Continue.”

“My lord, for this first trip, let’s not bring the merchants. Those freemen merchants will just be a drag on us. When danger strikes, I fear they won’t even have the courage to run for their lives. Most importantly, without carts, we can’t carry much cargo anyway. I think it would be better to replace the merchants with warriors. Since we’re dealing with Mountain folk, they respect swords and crossbows, not merchants,” Baritt said.

Victor and Narsen exchanged a glance. Victor stood up and said, “You see it all very clearly. Gnolls, Goblins, Kobolds, wild beasts, bandits, Mountain folk, dire animals, and perhaps even the lords’ guards or Knights—these will be the enemies our thirty-odd mercenaries must face. This isn’t just a safety issue; this is constant battle! This is carving a path through blood and corpses! So, what are we fighting for? Why do we kill? Why do we bleed?”

The dozen or so War Bear veterans looked at each other, nonplussed. Victor continued, “For trade! We must use our strong bows, sharp crossbows, long spears, and keen swords to kill our way to a trade route! You are all experts at fighting, but not at business! The freemen merchants are no good at fighting, but they are experts at business.”

“Whether it’s the Mountain folk villages or the freemen camps, they all have countless ties to the lords, but they have no loyalty to speak of. Therefore, winning over the Mountain folk is our first step in dealing with other lords. Furthermore, I want to turn their villages into stops for our caravan, places where the mercenaries and merchants can rest, resupply, and recruit. To achieve this, force alone is not enough. If we push the Mountain folk too hard, the lord will intervene. The mercenary company is to turn bandits into Mountain folk, while the merchants are to turn Mountain folk into mercenaries!”

“Don’t look down on the freemen merchants. Today we protect them; tomorrow they will protect us. Because behind the freemen merchants stands a behemoth: the Radiant Church! These merchants are slick, worldly, shrewd, and capable. Let them deal with the lords’ villages through the Mountain folk, and once they’ve latched onto the Church, even the lords will have to turn a blind eye. In the end, we will sell our raw sugar and buy the special products from every lord’s domain. When that day comes, all of you will sit at home and do nothing, and Gold Sols will flow into your pockets like water. By then, the mercenaries under our command will not be in the hundreds or thousands, but in the tens of thousands!”

Everyone’s blood boiled, stirred by the future Victor had painted. They were overcome with excitement, wishing they could lead the mercenary company to carve a bloody path for trade right away.

Victor clasped his hands behind his back and paced back and forth. “This ice-breaking journey must be foolproof. For safety, I will equip the mercenary company with 25 elite archers and 10 elite warriors. They are all powerful soldiers, just like Shak and Reno.”

Everyone except Narsen gasped. They knew Victor had many elite soldiers, but they never thought he had so many warriors who could stand shoulder to shoulder with Reno. Reno, after all, was comparable to Narsen in his early years, a powerhouse who had surpassed the level of an apprentice knight.

“My lord, then there’s no problem!”

Victor motioned for Baritt to sit down. “In addition to that, I will provide the mercenary company with ten Ash Falcons. The equipment can’t be worn-out, either. After all, weapons and armor are our greatest advantage as humans. Of course, I will have someone take care of it to ensure there are no giveaways. Prepare ten single-wheeled handcarts, and those warriors will serve as a labor force. We will also bring ten freemen merchants. Along with a commander and two vice-commanders, the total will be 48 people. You will decide on the specific candidates and report back to me.”

“My lord, where are we going this time?” Baritt asked.

Victor walked over to a massive map, frowning in thought. His gaze eventually settled on the Kingdom of Naville. “To Naville.”

Naville was mountainous and densely forested, its land barren, lacking in grain and cloth. The local people were poor and fierce, making them both excellent hunters and outstanding mercenaries. Furthermore, Naville was rich in iron ore and element crystals, and Victor needed more flame crystals. So he decided to open the trade route to Naville first.

Victor thought for a moment, then added, “The journey to Naville is long, arduous, and dangerous. When mercenaries encounter a stronger enemy, do they sometimes sacrifice some companions to hold back the enemy and cover a retreat?”

Narsen’s voice was heavy. “That is unavoidable.”

Victor pondered for a moment before saying, “If you encounter such a situation, saving your own lives is the most important thing. Second are the freemen merchants. As for those soldiers, don’t worry about them. Protecting you is their mission.”

“My lord, this…” Narsen cried out in surprise.

Victor shot him a fierce glare and said to the stunned old mercenaries, “You may not be as strong as them, but you are far more important. I need you to come back alive!”

“We would die for you, my lord!” the mercenaries shouted in unison.

Victor smiled. “You’re worthless to me dead.” Everyone burst into laughter. After a moment, Victor continued, “I will dispatch a secret force to protect you from the shadows. It won’t be easy for you to die even if you tried! However, they will not show themselves to you, and you are not to look for them.”

Narsen’s eyes glinted, then he grew calm again. He knew Victor’s secret force had to be the Warhounds. Though he didn’t know how many would be sent, with those creatures secretly accompanying them, the mercenary company wouldn’t have to worry about ambushes from Gnolls and dire animals.

“For this trip to Naville, making a profit is not important. Opening the trade route is the key. Especially the Mountain folk villages and freemen camps along the way—they must become nodes on our trade route, for our use. I have prepared ten thousand Gold Sols for you. Whether you fight or bribe, I only care about the result.”

The trade system Victor designed was vastly different from that of traditional caravans. Traditional caravans engaged in point-to-point trade, avoiding rival families along the way and only trading with fixed lords. Victor’s freemen caravan, however, would do business with all lords. It would travel a path, buying and selling all along the way, regardless of whether a lord was an enemy or an ally. As long as they passed through, they would sweep everyone into their net. The profit and influence from this kind of free trade were immeasurable, and only the status of freemen could make it possible. Victor intended to use the freemen merchants to infiltrate the Mountain folk, use the Mountain folk to infiltrate the villages, use the villages to infiltrate the towns, and finally pull the lords into his trade system. To achieve this goal, losing a bit of money at the start was truly nothing.

“My lord, the Mountain folk hardly use Gold Sols,” Iron Hammer stood up and reminded Victor.

A smile touched Victor’s lips. He nodded. “Ten handcarts truly can’t carry much cargo, not even much grain. Besides grain, salt, and cloth, do the Mountain folk like arrowheads?”

“Arrowheads?” Iron Hammer blinked, then grinned. “They love them to death!”

“Haha!” Victor laughed for a while, then said, “That’s right! Of course, the arrowheads I’ve prepared won’t be enough to satisfy all the Mountain folk. So, after that, it will be up to the skills of the freemen merchants.”

“Barol, have the candidates for the freemen merchants been chosen?”

Barol gave Victor a deep bow. “My lord, they have been selected. My men are persuading them now.”

Chapter 169: Profit is Courage

The night was hazy. The towering Black Fortress stood against the biting wind, lying quietly on the bank of the Black River like a sleeping behemoth.

In the most remote corner of the shantytown on the east side of Black Fortress Town stood a low wooden house. This was Weyrich’s home.

Weyrich had once been a freeman merchant on Amber Street, and he had been neighbors with the old mercenaries of the Goat Tavern. Although Weyrich was a freeman, before the Ant-man plague, he had owned a tavern, an inn, and two sundry shops on Amber Street. He was considered a person of some standing in Black Fortress Town. When the Ant-man tide broke out, the York family demolished more than half of the town’s buildings to house the hundred thousand-plus people, and all the salvaged materials were used to plug the gaps in the outer walls. Just like that, Weyrich’s shops became part of the city wall, and his goods, along with his savings of over a thousand Gold Sols, were requisitioned by the York family.

After the Ant-man plague ended, the York family rebuilt Black Fortress Town. To commend Boss Weyrich for “voluntarily” donating money, goods, and his house to the war effort, the York family gifted him a residence—this shanty in the poor district.

In Weyrich’s “mansion,” a dozen or so people were gathered around a table, upon which sat a lit oil lamp. The flame was as small as a bean, casting flickering shadows. In the dim light, everyone’s face was a blur. The one with the largest face was, of course, Weyrich.

“Boss Weyrich, this hut of yours is not bad. You have a table and a bed, not to mention an oil lamp. Unlike us, we donated so much and didn’t even get a hovel to live in.”

“Sigh, my family’s fortune, saved up over two generations, is all gone. Now I don’t even have the right to live in the city. I can only move to the shantytowns outside.”

“Truth be told, it’s because our property was too little. If we could have donated as much as Boss Weyrich, we wouldn’t have ended up in this state—living outside the city with no chance to get back on our feet.”

The flattery, envy, and sighs from the crowd made Weyrich secretly pleased. He knew he hadn’t chosen the wrong people. In truth, Weyrich hadn’t received any commendation. This ten-square-meter wooden hut had been procured for him by his eldest son. Weyrich had two sons and one daughter. His eldest, just turned twenty, was clever, good at currying favor, and skilled at bootlicking. Before the Ant-man plague, he had befriended the stewards of many vassal lords. When the York family began rebuilding their domain and recruiting heavily, Weyrich’s eldest son was noticed by a certain steward, managed to get the status of a subject, and now managed a pig farm for a vassal lord. Weyrich’s younger son, through his brother’s recommendation, found a job as a shepherd. His wife and daughter were also placed by him in a vassal lord’s weaving mill. Originally, Weyrich could have found a job himself, but after a long talk between father and son, his eldest son used all his connections to find Weyrich this shanty.

Weyrich knew full well that once he started working for a vassal lord, there would be no turning back. He had tried every means possible to stay in Black Fortress Town, all for the sake of making a comeback.

“Heh, others might not know what’s going on, but you all should, right? If I moved outside the city, that would be one thing. But staying here, if I don’t keep up appearances, I’d be beaten to death.”

The crowd let out a dreary, hollow laugh. Weyrich continued, “I’ve thought about it. Black Fortress Town will definitely rebuild Amber Street, but I have no money to buy a shop. No shop, no money… even if a caravan comes, I won’t be able to get back on my feet. Even though I’ve stayed in the city, I’m just like you all. There’s no chance left for me.”

No matter their status, a merchant was nothing without capital. The domain’s surplus grain, leather, cloth, wooden goods, and other products had to be sold promptly, otherwise they would just rot in the warehouses. In such times, lords with the means would have their vassals form caravans. The various vassals in the domain, such as village and town heads, would sell their surplus goods to the caravan in exchange for currency that was easy to carry and store. The caravan would then transport the goods to the domains of other families to sell them, but not all goods could be sold off quickly. This was why caravans needed merchants to take these goods off their hands, and also to procure the supplies the caravan needed. To maintain a relationship with a caravan, a merchant needed two basic things: first, a shop to handle the goods, and second, gold coins for settlement. Weyrich and these merchants, with no money and no shops, were completely finished.

“Weyrich, why did you gather us all here?” a tall, thin man was the first to break the gloomy atmosphere.

“My family’s wealth, built up over generations from apprentice to owner, is just gone like that. I can’t accept it!” Weyrich yelled.

Another man said dejectedly, “What can we do even if we can’t accept it? We don’t even qualify to be apprentices now. Weyrich, weren’t you hired by The Stonemasons to transport stone? I guess I can only sell my labor from now on.”

“Are we the same as those mud-legs? We can read, do accounts, and understand goods. As long as we have capital, we can make a comeback,” Weyrich said, his eyes narrowed.

“You have money now?” the tall, thin man asked in a low voice.

“No.”

Seeing the disappointment on their faces, Weyrich added, “But I’ve found a good deal. It requires no capital, but it’s a bit dangerous.”

“What kind of deal?”

“Hehe, a business with no capital is also a business that can cost you your life. If you succeed, you earn a lot. If you fail, you lose your life. Those willing to take the risk, stay. Those who aren’t, leave now. Don’t stop us from getting rich.”

Since it was a business with no capital, one couldn’t ask questions without joining. Everyone understood this principle, so no one asked anything else. The dim lamplight flickered uncertainly. A moment later, someone got up and left, followed by two more. Weyrich looked at the seven who remained and smiled. “Think it over! If you don’t leave now, you won’t be able to.”

“Hmph! I don’t know about the others, but I, Daoqi, am not ready to just give up. You, Boss Weyrich, are famous for being shrewd. If you’re willing to do it, I, Daoqi, dare to follow!” the tall, thin man said.

“That’s right, just tell us. What’s the deal?”

“Stop being mysterious. Just spit it out so we can discuss it.”

Weyrich ignored the clamor and walked to the door, gesturing to a hidden corner. A few burly men squeezed inside. The man in the lead was tall and brawny with a menacing face. He glanced at the crowd in the lamplight and chuckled in a low voice, “Well, if it isn’t a group of old acquaintances.”

“You are? Sasha, one of Barol’s men? Didn’t you run away?” Daoqi exclaimed in a surprised whisper. This man was Sasha, the trusted enforcer of the hyena chief, Barol. When Barol was in power, Daoqi had been on friendly terms with him. After Barol’s fall, Daoqi had never heard news of Sasha again.

“I’m back.”

Sasha rubbed his large, bald head and sat down directly in Weyrich’s seat, while Weyrich stood behind him, nodding and bowing obsequiously.

“Those who stayed can be considered one of us. I’ll be direct, I have a batch of black goods to get rid of. For me, Sasha, killing someone is nothing special, but doing business is difficult. I don’t know the market and I can’t do accounts, so I’m afraid of getting cheated. That’s why I’ve found a few bosses to help me take a look.”

Sasha pulled out a dagger and played with it nonchalantly, his fierce gaze sweeping over the faces of the men from time to time. The several bosses, however, seemed to ignore Sasha’s threat, each of them smiling amiably. So-called black goods were stolen goods. Sasha had followed Barol for a long time, so it wasn’t strange for him to have stolen goods on hand. In fact, every boss present had accepted black goods from him before. These bankrupt merchants didn’t care if the goods were stolen, robbed, or swindled. As long as there were goods to sell, they could get back on their feet. Whoever could give them goods was their provider.

“Master Sasha, give the goods to me, oh no, to us. I guarantee you won’t lose out,” one boss said, thumping his chest loudly.

“Master Sasha, we’ve known each other for years. You know what we’re like. If you let us handle the goods, there won’t be any problems. It’s just that we’re short on cash right now. Once we sell the goods, how about a thirty-seventy split?” Daoqi said fawningly.

Sasha curled his lip in disdain. He knew that the thirty-seventy split Daoqi mentioned meant thirty percent for him and seventy for the merchants. For ordinary black goods, such a split from the merchants would be generous, but what Sasha had was no ordinary merchandise.

“This is my merchandise!”

A sharp arrowhead was tossed onto the table. Several arms shot out at once. After a tussle, Daoqi managed to snatch the arrowhead from the pile.

“This is military supplies?!” Daoqi looked as if he’d been bitten by a venomous snake and immediately threw the arrowhead back onto the table.

“A refined iron arrowhead!” Another boss picked up the arrowhead and examined it closely for a moment, his face turning extremely grim.

“What? Scared? I told you from the start this was a business that could get you beheaded. Now you’re scared? Then don’t blame me for being ruthless!” Sasha waved his hand, and his burly men all drew their weapons, surrounding the merchants with murderous intent.

“Master Sasha, this isn’t a question of being scared.” Daoqi picked up the arrowhead with a wry smile and said to Sasha, “Do you know how much this arrowhead is worth? Let me tell you, five of these arrowheads go for one Silver Sol. One hundred eighty of them are worth one Gold Sol. That’s the cost. The selling price quadruples that. The profit in this is scalding hot! I don’t know how many goods you have, or where you got them. But I’m telling you, in Black Fortress Town, only Old Jack’s Tavern can sell military supplies! You must know what kind of backing Old Jack’s Tavern has. This time, the Vassal District and the poor district were all torn down, but no one dared to touch Old Jack’s Tavern. For anyone else, selling military supplies is a death sentence!”

“Who can handle goods this hot? Only Old Jack’s Tavern and the mercenaries. If Old Jack’s Tavern found out we had military supplies, wouldn’t they skin us alive and investigate us to the bone? As for the mercenary companies, don’t be fooled by how they obediently buy equipment in Old Jack’s Tavern. If they were to trade with us? Heh, with such high profits, they’d definitely kill us and take everything for themselves!”

“Brother Sasha, this isn’t a question of being scared or not, it’s that we can’t move them at all!”

Sasha glanced at Weyrich. Seeing the man nod slightly, he said, “I’ll be honest with you. This batch of goods belongs to a certain mercenary company. They’re in a hurry to get rid of it, so they asked me to find a buyer. You can probably guess how the mercenary company got the goods. If this isn’t resolved, none of us will survive! If it is resolved, I’ll take the money and run, and you’ll have the capital to continue your business. So, you have to do it, whether you want to or not!”

“How many goods do you have?” one boss asked in a deep voice.

Sasha scratched his head and said, “I don’t know the exact number. You know those largest coarse linen sacks from your shops? There are ten full sacks of them.”

That boss sucked in a cold breath, then said with another wry smile, “That’s over a hundred thousand, one thousand five hundred Gold Sols’ worth of arrowheads. This is truly a big deal! It can’t be done! It’s just too much!”

The merchants either nodded or shook their heads. No matter how dangerous military supplies were, they would dare to sell them for a profit. The problem was that the quantity was so large and the origin so illicit. The mercenary company would surely want to leave quickly and wouldn’t have time to let them sell the goods off slowly. And they didn’t have the capital to buy the stock outright. It was an unsolvable contradiction. A delicious feast was right in front of them, but they could only look and not eat. One could only imagine how that felt.

At this moment, fat Weyrich spoke up: “The goods are hot, and the owner knows it too. What the mercenary company means is for us to exchange these hot goods for goods that aren’t so hot!”

“How do we exchange them? Who do we exchange them with?” Daoqi asked, completely baffled.

“The Mountain folk!”

“The Mountain folk?! Are you an idiot? The Mountain folk are just a bunch of bandits! What’s the difference between trading with them and seeking death?”

“Do I look like an idiot?” Weyrich pointed to his own nose and retorted. After a pause, he continued, “The mercenary company is preparing to trade with the Mountain folk, but the Mountain folk have no money, so they can only trade for mountain goods. But the mercenaries don’t understand the market for mountain goods, which is why they came to us. The profit from military supplies is nothing at twice the price, but what about the profit from mountain goods? Daoqi, your shop once sold two pieces of amber. I remember the small one sold for ten Gold Sols. How much did the large one sell for?”

“Thirty Gold Sols,” Daoqi said proudly.

Amber was not only a precious medicinal ingredient but also a valuable spice, commanding a high price. Daoqi had once sold two pieces, causing quite a stir in the merchant circles at the time.

“Hehe, the Mountain folk have no money, but they have plenty of good things. Amber, takin hides, Moonlight Grass, Suhe incense, honey, beeswax, giant rhino calves, giant rhino horns—aren’t all of these settled in Gold Sols? What’s the profit margin in trading with the Mountain folk? No less than ten times! Add the doubled profit from the military supplies, and that’s twenty times! With a twenty-fold profit, I’d do it no matter how great the risk! If I could handle it all by myself, I wouldn’t have come to you! Master Sasha said the mercenary company will guarantee our safety, we will guarantee the mercenary company gets good things, and we’ll also help them turn the mountain goods into money. We’ll split the accounts fifty-fifty. However, the mercenary company wants us to swear an oath to the Lord of Radiance that we won’t covet their money, and there will be opportunities for future cooperation. So, what do you say now? Are you in or out?”

According to the rules set by the lord, when armed mercenaries entered a town, they could only operate in designated areas and could not freely enter other places, otherwise they would be treated as bandits. This meant that the mercenaries could only trade with organizations like Old Jack’s Tavern. This particular mercenary company clearly couldn’t trade with a tavern owner backed by the lord; they had to rely on freemen merchants to move their goods. This being the case, there was no need to worry about the mercenary company turning on them and silencing them. On the contrary, the mercenaries had to worry about the merchants running off with the goods.

“I’m in!”

“Only someone whose head has been clamped by a bull’s ass wouldn’t do it!”

The merchants clamored excitedly. A twenty-fold profit was enough to make them risk beheading and do anything.

“When do we leave?” Daoqi asked.

Sasha rubbed his head. He had always thought merchants were a bunch of timid, mouse-like cowards, but he never expected them to be so audacious. For something so dangerous, they agreed to do it just like that. When he’d first found fat Weyrich, the man had been trembling with fear, but after hearing the request, he agreed immediately, without half a minute’s delay. Now, these bosses were the same. Sasha had prepared many tactics that he didn’t even get to use, and the task Barol had given him was done. He asked in confusion, “Aren’t you afraid of dying?”

“Afraid? Of course we’re afraid! But to not do a deal with a twenty-fold profit? We might as well be dead!”

“Exactly! We didn’t have a way before. Now that we have one, how could we not do it? Only a fool wouldn’t!”

Looking at the chattering merchants, Sasha felt like he was only just getting to know them. He shook his head and said, “Alright! We leave tomorrow morning. If you need to say goodbye to your families, my men will have to go with you. In short, not a single word of this can get out.”

“Of course. I don’t want to bring trouble to my family. By the way, where is the mercenary company?”

“In the Chapman family’s Pine Forest Town.”

Chapter 170: Two Flaws

Pine Forest Town was located in the northwest of the Chapman territory. It administered four villages with a total population of less than two thousand and was quite remote. For this reason, Earl Chapman had chosen it as the location to trade Mithril with Victor. As Mithril was an extremely sensitive strategic material, both parties conducted the secret transaction under the guise of freemen. Earl Chapman had instructed the lord of Pine Forest Town to build a freemen camp outside the town to serve as a trading post. To avoid drawing attention, routine patrols around Pine Forest Town were also suspended. In effect, the area had become a place where one could come and go at will—a fact of which Weyrich and his group were unaware.

Weyrich’s party entered the Chapman territory, and their convoy deliberately avoided the road signs, driving straight into the wilderness. The merchants were instantly terrified. It was common knowledge in the human kingdoms that one stayed on the roads. Lords built roads between their towns and villages, established outposts, and dispatched soldiers to patrol them, ensuring the safety of travelers and the free flow of traffic. They also inspected the identities and cargo of outsiders and collected taxes. To shun the roads was to harbor ill intentions. Getting caught would lead to dire consequences: being treated as a bandit, paying a hefty fine, or being sentenced to hard labor.

Urged on by the others, a merchant named Weylin reluctantly braced himself and reminded Sasha, “The Chapman family isn’t a new house like the Randells. If we’re caught off the roads they’ve built, it’s a serious crime.” Sasha offered no explanation, merely snarling at Weylin to shut his mouth.

As darkness fell, they spotted the flickering of fires in the distance—a simple camp. Sasha leaped from his carriage, waved a torch twice, and the distant fires danced in response.

“It’s them.”

Sasha glanced back and gave a command before leading the way toward the camp. Four bonfires burned within, surrounded by dozens of men. Reading people was a merchant’s instinct. Weyrich and the others observed that these men were brawny and fierce, with sharp gazes. Their equipment was old but complete—chainmail, leather armor, long spears, and short knives were all accounted for. They even had about twenty black crossbows. This was clearly no hastily assembled rabble, and the freemen merchants heaved a collective sigh of relief.

Weyrich also noticed Sasha speaking in low tones with a stout, stocky man. Sasha was taller than the man by more than half a head, but from the way he nodded and bowed obsequiously, a fawning expression on his face, Weyrich knew the shorter man must be the mercenary company’s commander. Sure enough, a moment later, Sasha escorted the man over.

“You’re Boss Weyrich?” the stocky man asked.

Weyrich immediately plastered on a smile even more fawning than Sasha’s and nodded repeatedly. “Yes, yes, yes, that’s me, Weyrich. Greetings, Commander Milord!”

“My name is Iron Hammer. I’m the commander of the Warhammer Mercenary Company. I’m no ‘milord.’ You can just call me Commander Iron Hammer.”

Iron Hammer nodded to the merchants. “Sasha’s already told you about our situation, right? We’ll camp here for the night and set out first thing in the morning. You don’t need to worry about safety; my brothers will keep watch.”

“Commander Iron Hammer, one look at your men and it’s clear they are all powerful warriors. The Warhammers must be a top-tier mercenary company! We’re not worried at all with you here,” Weyrich said flatteringly, before asking hesitantly, “It’s just… could we possibly… see the goods?”

Iron Hammer grinned, a wide, silent smile. This merchant probably didn’t know what a powerful warrior was, or what true danger looked like. He only cared if there were goods to be had. This profit-driven, reckless nature was exactly as Narsen had described.

Weyrich didn’t recognize Iron Hammer, but Iron Hammer had heard of him. The veteran mercenaries had spoken more than once of fat Weyrich’s performance at the Goat Tavern: at the time, he had been scared enough to nearly piss his pants, yet after one taste of Purple Cane wine, he had immediately perked up and insisted on talking business with Narsen, so persistent they couldn’t even shoo him away.

“Over here.”

Iron Hammer pointed to a corner where dozens of coarse burlap sacks and ten strange-looking wheelbarrows were piled. A few burly mercenaries brought out ten sacks and tossed them on the ground. Several merchants rushed forward eagerly, untied the sacks, and the refined iron arrowheads were revealed. Seeing the arrowheads, the merchants beamed with joy. As per their agreement, half of these arrowheads represented the capital they needed to get back on their feet.

These refined iron arrowheads were exquisitely crafted, their quality was outstanding, and there were so many of them; they had to be the property of some lord. If the Warhammer Mercenary Company could get their hands on refined iron arrowheads, perhaps the other sacks held valuable goods as well. At this thought, the portly Weyrich rubbed his hands together and said enthusiastically, “Commander Iron Hammer, what’s in the other sacks? Would you like us to take a look for you? We could give you an appraisal.”

Iron Hammer shook his head. “Just supplies. Nothing worth looking at.” Weyrich was a little disappointed, but then he heard Iron Hammer add, “Oh, and ten large sacks of raw sugar.”

“R-raw sugar?!” Weyrich was a mix of joyful, shocked, and fearful. He lowered his voice. “Commander, I think we should set out tonight.”

“Why?” Iron Hammer asked, bewildered.

“Ahem, raw sugar is a specialty of the House of Randell. Since you… acquired their goods, they’re sure to come looking. This place is close to the Randell Fief, so it’s best we hit the road sooner rather than later.” Weyrich kept his voice low. Seeing the strange look on Iron Hammer’s face, he quickly added, “Commander Iron Hammer, let me tell you, Viscount Randell’s Guard Captain is a man named Narsen. I’ve heard he’s personally killed hundreds of men. He’s especially vicious, exceptionally strong. His arms are thicker than my thighs, and he can lift me with just one hand…”

“Boss Weyrich, you remember this: we leave when I say we leave! While you’re out here, you’ll listen to my arrangements for everything, down to taking a piss or a shit. Otherwise, if you get yourself killed, fine, but you’ll drag everyone else down with you!”

Iron Hammer clapped Weyrich on the shoulder and turned to leave. He hadn’t gone far before Weyrich heard him burst out laughing.

“Haha, that’s hilarious! ‘Especially vicious, arms thicker than my thighs!’ Haha…”

Weyrich looked down at his own thighs, which were as thick as two normal men’s put together, and muttered innocently, “I was just afraid you wouldn’t take it seriously. You have to exaggerate a little in business…”

The temperature warmed, the earth reawakened, and the cold, damp Season of Water came to an end. The Season of Earth had quietly arrived.

Around the lake, green shoots had emerged from nearly twenty thousand mu of ground-potato fields and ten thousand mu of wheat fields. Farmers dotted the landscape, bustling with the work of watering and fertilizing the seedlings.

At the pig farm near Rivermouth Village, over a hundred farmwomen dumped freshly cut blue-core grass and wild brambles into the enclosures, where a thousand wild boars of all sizes swarmed the feeding troughs. In one corner of the farm, several strong farmers held a half-grown boar pinned to a stone table. With a swift flash of a knife, two pinkish-white testicles were deftly removed.

“Victor, is this what you call castration?” an old man asked curiously.

Victor nodded. “Yes, Master Edwin. This is the castration of a boar.”

Near the end of the Season of Water, Nicole had arrived in the Randell Fief with a large retinue, accompanied by the Spire Scholar, Edwin. While Nicole was busy leading people to build a camp near the swamp entrance, Edwin had remained at the manor to inspect Victor’s farms and piggery. It was a reunion after a long separation, and Victor had warmly hosted the forthright and wise scholar, personally accompanying him for the past few days to explain his agricultural and husbandry system.

“What is the purpose of castrating them?”

“Male wild boars are fierce and aggressive, making them difficult to manage. They will even devour the young of other boars. After castration, a boar’s temperament becomes much like a sow’s. Not only do they grow faster, but their meat is also more tender. It also prevents inferior boars from breeding freely.”

Edwin asked in surprise, “Victor, how do you know so much about this?”

“The wisdom of the freemen.”

Victor smiled and explained, “My subjects often hunt wild boars, so they are very familiar with their habits. They know that the meat from male boars is tough and stringy, with a gamey taste, while sow meat is much better. To solve this problem, I asked the people for suggestions. It just so happened that one farmer had raised a male dog. His dog got into a fight with another male and had its… well, it was bitten off. Afterward, the dog was no longer aggressive and grew fatter and fatter. So, I ordered my men to try castrating boars. They had no experience at first and killed quite a few, but now they’re very skilled, and the results have been good. My people have already begun to try castrating bulls and rams.”

What Victor said was half-truth, half-lie. The farmer in question was an Alchemical Militia member he had planted for this purpose, but the technique of castration on Earth had indeed originated from real-life experience. The invention of livestock castration had greatly increased the economic efficiency of animal husbandry and played a positive role in improving breeds. Naturally, Victor wanted to promote such a simple and effective technique in his fief.

“To be capable of listening to your people’s suggestions, then applying and systemizing them… Victor, you are truly remarkable!” Edwin praised him from the heart.

Victor gave a modest smile, but he was thinking to himself, Master Edwin encourages nobles to absorb wisdom from the common folk. It’s a fine idea, but he fails to see the root of the problem. I’m willing to listen to their opinions, but the common people are bound hand and foot by the two ropes of the Radiant Code and the vassalage system. What creativity could they possibly have left?

Edwin, unaware of Victor’s true thoughts, continued, “Victor, the agricultural and husbandry system you’ve designed is excellent. While I can’t be sure if the new plows and the pig manure will increase your grain yields, it is certain that the number of cattle, sheep, and wild boars will increase dramatically. However, there are two flaws in your system—one external, and one internal.”

Victor frowned. “Oh? Please, elaborate.”

“Let’s start with the external flaw.” Master Edwin stroked his beard. “Penning wild boars and grazing cattle and sheep is the complete opposite of traditional methods. It’s all predicated on the Centaur Hills being free of monsters and beasts. But have you considered that the beasts and monsters will inevitably return? When that time comes, how many soldiers will you have to protect your livestock?”

Victor nodded but said nothing. He had already considered this problem. The larger the wilderness, the more living space there was for beasts and monsters. Human soldiers were far less mobile, making it impossible to rely on the army to completely eliminate the threat from the wilds. The only solution was to build more villages, towns, outposts, and roads to squeeze the monsters’ room for maneuver and eventually drive them out of the fief. This was precisely why Victor wanted to build the canal, a topic he was already preparing to discuss with Edwin. But right now, he wanted to know what the other flaw was.

“Master, and the internal flaw?”

Edwin sighed and shook his head. “Victor, if you continue down this path, in three years, you will lose the support of your people!”

Victor was visibly shaken.

Chapter 171: Not a Problem

“Before the vassalage system appeared, whenever a human territory faced a foreign enemy, the typical situation was that the lord and the Church’s armies would be fighting at the front while the common people fled. When the army retreated to a castle to rest and recover, they wouldn’t even have a bowl of hot soup. The soldiers couldn’t rest either, because there was no militia to help defend the castle. The men who retreated had to immediately take up positions on the walls. With no logistics and no support, the outcome of the battle was predictable.”

“The vassalage system solved this problem. It united the commoners and the lord to face threats together. In fact, if they could, lords would prefer all commoners to be their subjects. The essence of the vassalage system is that the lord grants the people more private property and a higher status. Only then will the people support their lord, and the wealthier people are, the more resolutely they will defend their homes.”

“The biggest difference between subjects and freemen is that subjects can rent land from a Vassal or a lord. A single subject can rent up to fifty mu of farmland, and the harvest from ten of those mu belongs entirely to him. However, cultivating fifty mu of land requires at least four able-bodied laborers. Add to that the young children and elderly parents in the family, and this subject’s household will have at least eight members. Subjects don’t have to provide their own seeds, but even in the best of years, the grain produced from ten mu won’t exceed three thousand pounds. Three thousand pounds of grain is only enough to feed a family of eight for one hundred and fifty days. They make up for the remaining rations partly by accepting hired work, and partly through foraging and hunting. Victor, have you noticed? By this calculation, subjects don’t actually accumulate any private wealth!”

“That’s right… Where does a subject’s wealth come from?”

Victor was at a loss. The people under him had been eating from a communal pot, and the drawbacks of that system were gradually becoming apparent. The members of the work point system were still manageable; after all, they had the carrot of vassalage dangling in front of them. But the newly joined freemen farmhands were already showing signs of slacking off, preferring to spend their time on their private plots. Victor realized it was time to put the communal pot system to rest. To prevent his population from leaving, he also had to start turning the freemen into the more stable class of subjects. But Victor had never considered how a subject’s family accumulated wealth. The village heads had never mentioned this issue either. Apparently, it was common knowledge that needed no reminder, but Victor was clueless.

Master Edwen didn’t keep him in suspense. “The wheat straw is the main source of income for a subject’s family,” he explained.

“The straw?!”

“Hehe, that’s right, the wheat straw,” Edwen said with a laugh. “Lords store wheat in preparation for war, but you see, no noble has wheat porridge and bread as their staple food. We eat much more meat, milk, vegetables, and fruit. Compared to this cheap grain, cattle and sheep are the main wealth of lords and Vassals, and that wheat straw is the food that gets the cattle and sheep through the Season of Water. The price at which lords purchase wheat straw is about one Copper Sol per pound. Each mu of a wheat field produces four hundred pounds of straw, so ten mu is four thousand pounds. A subject family’s annual income from selling straw is three Gold Sols. Some lords, to encourage their subjects to grow wheat, will count more of the straw as belonging to the subjects—sometimes twenty mu’s worth, sometimes all of it. Subjects call such a lord a benevolent and generous master. Conversely, they are called a stingy lord.”

Victor was stunned for a long moment, then said resentfully, “My village heads never reminded me of this!”

“Mm, that’s the common folk’s little bit of cleverness. The Church hopes that all lords are benevolent and generous masters, not stingy lords. There’s an unwritten rule: for anything the lord doesn’t specify, all fifty mu of wheat straw are counted as the subject’s. This is also the common practice for most lords and Vassals. After all, gaining the favor of the Church and the subjects brings many conveniences. You don’t want to be called a stingy lord, do you?” Edwen teased.

Victor shook his head with a wry smile. “So, the agricultural system I designed has cut off my subjects’ source of wealth.”

Edwen nodded and sighed. “You graze your cattle and sheep in the wild, so the wheat straw has become worthless. Wild boars don’t eat straw, not to mention they aren’t as valuable as cattle and sheep. What lord would spend Copper Sols to buy food for wild boars?”

Victor thought for a moment and asked, “Why will my subjects lose patience after three years? And Sylvia is also implementing my agricultural system. She couldn’t possibly be unaware of this flaw. Why didn’t she remind me?”

“Another unwritten rule: when people follow a lord to develop a new territory, they can obtain subject status after three years. Without this rule, no one would be willing to come to a Pioneer Fief.”

“That’s as it should be.” Victor nodded in agreement. Life in a Pioneer Fief was not only more dangerous, but also required shouldering heavy labor. Furthermore, a Pioneer Lord’s savings had to be invested in construction, so the people could only manage to be fed and clothed. It would be unreasonable not to grant them subject status after they had worked themselves to the bone for three years for no pay.

Victor wasn’t currently planting a lot of wheat, less than ten thousand mu, and this year was mainly for breeding new seed varieties. It was one thing for the freemen farmhands to work for him for free for three years, but when they discovered that even becoming subjects brought no income, most of them would leave. The smarter ones might find their own way out before the three years were up.

Edwen continued, “Of course Sylvia knows about this problem. Setting aside its flaws for a moment, your method is extremely efficient for the current situation. By pen-raising wild boars, the cattle and sheep have more abundant food. By substituting pork for beef and mutton, the number of cattle and sheep can multiply. In three years, the cattle and sheep in the Centaur Hills can be restored to their pre-war numbers, and may even far exceed them.”

“It won’t be too late to change it back in three years, is that it? But why didn’t Sylvia remind me?” Victor asked, displeased.

“Heh heh.” Master Edwen gave a dry laugh and said, “You’re Sylvia’s precious treasure right now. She doesn’t want anyone interfering with you. Maybe she thought you’d solve the problem on your own… In any case, even if you fail, the York family will support you.”

The corner of Victor’s mouth twitched. Edwen made it sound nice, but wasn’t the York family just using him as a testing ground? If he succeeded, the York family would learn from his experience. If he failed, they would still welcome him with open arms. Of course, this was also the environment Victor needed. It proved that without a powerful backer, developing in isolation was a dead end. Back then, if it hadn’t been for Sylvia’s support, Victor would have already become the Queen’s puppet. Besides, making full use of the York family’s manpower and resources was a vital part of his plan. Thinking of this, Victor had nothing to complain about.

“Victor, you are very special. You haven’t received a formal lord’s education, so you have many novel ideas that are very similar to my own views. Being a Spire Scholar means being able to solve problems, but I am old now and lack Sylvia’s patience. I would very much like to hear more of your thoughts,” Master Edwen said with a hearty laugh.

Victor smiled as well. As a scholar master from the Silver Spire and Duke York’s uncle, Edwen was indeed not subject to Sylvia’s constraints. Sylvia’s failure to mention this problem wasn’t out of ill intent, but rather a fear that Victor would become hesitant and timid, stagnating into a cautious, mediocre lord. But how could they know that Victor came from a world of information overload, with countless successful examples to draw upon?

Victor pondered for a moment, then said, “Master, the problem of the subjects’ income isn’t hard to solve. I can expand the area they can rent and their share of the profits, increasing it from fifty mu to seventy mu, and raising their share from two-tenths to three-tenths.”

Edwen stared blankly for a long while, then said in disappointment, “This is your solution? What about the Vassals? Doing this harms the interests of the Vassals and the lord himself. You do know that the seeds for the subjects’ farming are provided by the Vassal and the lord, right?”

“Of course I know. But if you knew that I plan to sow seventy pounds of wheat seed per mu and expect a harvest of three hundred and fifty pounds, would you still be disappointed?” Victor asked calmly.

“What did you say?! That’s impossible!” Edwen cried out in disbelief.

From a profit perspective, Vassals would rather grow more pasture grass. But growing wheat was a mandatory requirement from the lord, and the lord provided the Vassal’s first batch of seeds for free. This was because when castles and towns were besieged by foreign enemies, easily storable wheat was a vital resource for human survival.

However, the agricultural technology of this world was extremely backward, and the annual harvest was poor. In a good year, the yield was only three times the amount of seed sown; in a bad year, it was at most twice. Using the figures of fifty mu of land, one hundred and twenty pounds of seed per mu, and a harvest of three hundred pounds, the Vassal would invest a total of six thousand pounds of wheat seed for a yield of fifteen thousand pounds of wheat. Subtracting the subject family’s income of three thousand pounds, the Vassal received twelve thousand pounds of grain. After deducting the cost of the seed, the net income was six thousand pounds. After handing over half to the lord, the Vassal was left with only three thousand pounds of grain, on par with the subject family. If the subject’s share was increased from two-tenths to three-tenths, the Vassal’s income would be even less than the subject’s. Therefore, the seed-to-harvest ratio was the main factor constraining the farmer’s income.

A look at the history of human development on Earth makes it clear that increasing the income of the common people is something rulers tirelessly pursue. Any kingdom that violates this law will inevitably collapse. This world was no exception. Without the support of the people, a lord became a general without an army, unable to even build a castle.

Victor understood this principle and had the ability to solve the problem.

In modern Chinese society, about ten kilograms of wheat seed per mu yielded four hundred and fifty kilograms, a seed-to-harvest ratio of 1-to-45. Excluding the factors of chemical fertilizers and superior wheat varieties, by using methods of deep plowing and careful cultivation, with diligent irrigation and fertilization, Victor believed he could achieve a harvest ratio of at least 1-to-5.

According to the calculation of a subject renting seventy mu of farmland, the investment would be 4,900 pounds of wheat seed for a harvest of 24,500 pounds. The subject family would take three-tenths, which is 7,350 pounds. The remaining 17,150 pounds of wheat, minus the seed, would leave 12,250 pounds for the Vassal and the lord, who would each receive 6,125 pounds of wheat. On the surface, the Vassal and lord’s income was still less than the subject’s, but the actual profit per mu had increased by seventeen pounds compared to the original system. Moreover, deep plowing and careful cultivation lowered the seed investment but increased labor costs. Increasing the farmers’ share by one-tenth would give them the peace of mind to farm, making this distribution a situation that pleases everyone.

Edwen used a stick to calculate on the ground for a long time. The result left him stunned for another long while. He asked again, “Victor, how can you be sure you’ll have a 1-to-5 harvest?”

Victor smiled. “I guessed.”

Edwen: “…”

“We’ll find out when the harvest comes in this year, won’t we? Even if we don’t get such a yield, it won’t be too late to change things back.”

Edwen stared at Victor for a long time, then said in a low voice, “Victor, I won’t ask where this cultivation method came from. If you truly achieve a 1-to-5 harvest, you won’t just be a generous and benevolent master, you should be called a great lord. I very much look forward to that day.”

Victor said with a smile, “Master, it’s alright to tell you. Haven’t you noticed that the roots of the Purple Cane are very long? This indicates that the deeper soil is more fertile. In any case, I have few people and much land right now, and my territory hasn’t taken shape yet. There’s no harm in trying, is there?”

“Victor, your courage to experiment is your greatest virtue,” Edwen sighed.

Victor continued, “Actually, the internal flaw is easy to solve. But deep plowing and careful cultivation are inseparable from fertilizer, and wild boars are an indispensable part of the agro-pastoral system. Therefore, the external flaw is the real challenge.”

“Indeed.” Edwen frowned. “Cattle and sheep have no ability to defend themselves against wild beasts in the open. If this problem cannot be solved, your agro-pastoral system cannot be implemented. Sylvia is even prepared to slaughter all the penned-up wild boars and go back to penning cattle and sheep once the beasts appear.”

Victor said nothing, nor did he rush to recommend his canal plan. As long as he achieved a 1-to-5 or even higher harvest ratio this year, the York family would absolutely not give up on the new agro-pastoral system. It wouldn’t be too late to guide them slowly then. What he had to do now was convince Edwen to dig the reservoir and the ditches.

“Master, let’s talk about future matters in the future. Let’s go check on Nicole first.”

Chapter 172: Mercenary Handbook: Article Four

The Season of Earth was a pleasant one. A gentle breeze, laced with the fragrance of grass, trees, and flowers, drifted through the mountain forests, sounding the horn for nature’s rebirth. But it could not dispel the gloom in Iron Hammer’s heart.

The Warhammer Mercenary Company had trekked along the outskirts of the mountain forest for five full days. Guided by the alchemical crow, they finally found the first mountain stockade. It wasn’t large; dozens of shanties stood behind a tall iron-oak fence. From Iron Hammer’s experience, no fewer than five hundred mountain folk must have lived here. Yet, there wasn’t a single living soul in the village—only scattered white bones and collapsed shanties. The once peaceful and serene mountain stockade had become a ghost town.

Vice-Commander Fermi picked up a pale white skull and examined it for a moment. “No bite marks, no cracks. They ate cleanly, even scooped out the brain. Serpent-headed vultures.”

Serpent-headed vultures were common raptors in the mountain forests, with a wingspan of two meters and a weight of over twenty pounds. Their massive, clumsy bodies made them poor hunters, so they survived by scavenging, occasionally preying on injured or dying animals. Their powerful hooked beaks could easily tear through tough beast hides and drag out heavy entrails, and their long, barbed tongues could lick the meat clean from between the bones. A corpse visited by serpent-headed vultures would be left without a single scrap of flesh. They could spit a highly corrosive gastric fluid and, in flocks, could even steal prey from other beasts of prey—but not from the mountain folk. To the mountain folk, who were skilled archers, these clumsy birds were the best targets. Iron Hammer, having come from the mountain folk himself, was very familiar with the habits of these foolish birds. They would never have attacked a mountain folk camp. The culprits were someone else.

The tall and sturdy Crouching Ox Militiaman, Bull, walked over and said, “Commander Iron Hammer, we found no tracks of monsters or large beasts, only the paw prints of red-furred jackals. The remains have been dragged all over by them. At least thirty-one people died. Twenty-two men, nine women. Judging by the size of the skulls and their teeth, there were eleven elderly, eight children, and twelve able-bodied men.”

Iron Hammer nodded and pointed to the large hole smashed in the iron-oak fence. “It was a Knight. About three months ago, a Knight must have led a squad of soldiers and sacked this village. He smashed through the iron-oak fence first, then cut the vine ropes of the drawbridge. The soldiers rushed in, killing everyone on sight. The village was completely unprepared. A lot of kids died, and the rest fled through the back. The soldiers took all the mountain goods they could carry, and the serpent-headed vultures picked the corpses clean. When the red-furred jackals showed up, they found nothing to eat and just dragged away a lot of bones. That’s about what happened.”

Fermi dropped the skull and dug up a handful of dirt to rub his hands clean. “Killing women and children—definitely not the mountain folk. And with no monster tracks, it must have been a Knight. What I find strange is, why didn’t the Knight set it on fire?”

To punish disobedient mountain folk, Knights would often set fire to a stockade after sacking it. The ditches around the village would prevent the fire from spreading, and the billowing smoke would serve as a warning to other mountain folk. A situation like this—killing and looting without setting a fire—was extremely rare. Iron Hammer’s face darkened as he asked, “Which lord’s territory is nearby?”

Fermi took out a sheepskin map and looked at it. “To the north is Bryat’s fief, and to the south, the Chapman family. Hammer, what’s going on?”

Iron Hammer frowned. “It looks like they’re driving out the mountain folk. Let’s go. We’ll know for sure after we check another village.”

The merchants waiting for news below the mountain village swarmed over when they saw Iron Hammer and his men return.

“How was it? Are there any mountain goods in the village?”

“Are the mountain folk willing to trade with us?”

“It’d be best if they brought their things to trade with us.”

Iron Hammer slowly shook his head. “There’s no one inside. The village has been sacked.”

“What? Who did it? Aren’t they cutting off our source of wealth?”

“It must have been bandits, or maybe monsters!”

Iron Hammer said coldly, “It was a Knight.” The merchants fell silent. After a moment, a fat Weyrich asked cautiously, “Commander Iron Hammer, was this village a den of thieves? If we trade with bandits, will the noble Knights treat us as bandits too?”

Most people believed the mountain folk were vicious bandits. In reality, the mountain folk were neither roving outlaws nor madmen. They were fierce but simple, and while they might rob travelers, they rarely killed. They would often even take in those who had fallen on hard times. The law of the strong and a spirit of mutual aid were the mountain folks’ way of survival; otherwise, they would have vanished long ago. But the common prejudice against them was deeply ingrained, and Iron Hammer couldn’t be bothered to explain.

“Let’s leave this place first. We need to find another village.”

Four days later, Iron Hammer stood in another mountain stockade, his face ashen. This was the third village they had found, and the situation inside was identical to the previous two: scattered bones, ruined shanties, and no grain, animal hides, weapons, or living people. This meant that the nearby lords no longer permitted the mountain folk to reside in this forest.

“Damned beasts! They didn’t even spare the women and children! Greedy bastards, they didn’t leave a single hair behind! I must tell Father, let the great Lord of Radiance punish that deranged bandit Knight.”

Fat Weyrich waved his fist. The tragic scene in the village had roused his anger, but what was most hateful was that after searching the shanties for a long time, he hadn’t found so much as a single strand of fur.

Iron Hammer gave Weyrich a speechless look. He truly didn’t know what these freemen merchants were made of. When they first saw the bones, they were all crying and screaming in fear, but then they desperately searched every shanty, not even sparing the collapsed ones.

Another vice-commander, Kidd, hurried over and whispered, “Hammer, we’ve found people.”

“Let’s go!”

At dusk, the Warhammer Mercenary Company found a group of survivors in a valley. There were over a hundred of them—men, women, old, and young. They had driven sharpened wooden stakes into the ground at an angle, creating a simple fence to defend against common wild beasts. Before Iron Hammer and his men could even get close, several guard dogs began to bark furiously. The people in the camp quickly drew their bows and brandished their spears, taking up defensive stances. When they saw the fully-armed mercenaries, they immediately drew their hunting bows, arrowheads aimed straight at the mercenaries dozens of meters away. The mercenaries, in turn, aimed their longbows at the mountain folk behind the fence.

Iron Hammer took a deep breath. Holding his shield, he hoisted a plump yellow goat onto his shoulders, preparing to approach alone, but Bull stopped him. “Commander, according to the mercenary company handbook, I can’t let you take that risk.” With that, Bull picked up the yellow goat, strode toward the mountain folk, and halfway there, dropped the goat and retreated.

The mountain folk were stunned for a moment. A short while later, an old mountain man came out, carrying two fat badgers. He carefully placed his quarry next to the yellow goat. Seeing the disproportionate exchange, he took off the necklace from around his neck and tossed it on top of the badgers before dragging the yellow goat back behind the fence.

“An amber necklace!”

With an agility that belied his size, fat Weyrich lunged for the necklace the old man had left, but a Lithe Ape militiaman beside him grabbed him by the collar and hauled him back. Iron Hammer shot a fierce glare at the restless merchants, then turned and walked toward the mountain folk, several Alchemical militia following close behind him.

After Iron Hammer tossed the badgers and the necklace back to his men, a tall, sturdy mountain man walked over.

“Wood.”

“Iron Hammer.”

The mountain folk chief named Wood nodded to Iron Hammer. “You know the rules of the mountain folk. Are you a son of the forest too?”

When unfamiliar groups of mountain folk met, they would usually avoid each other. Exchanging game was a way to request a peaceful dialogue. It had been a long time since Iron Hammer had used this method to communicate with mountain folk.

“I was once. Now I’m a mercenary.”

“Mercenaries are no friends of the mountain folk! But you know the rules, so you may state your purpose,” Wood said coldly.

“See those people behind me? They are freemen merchants and my employers. They want to trade for mountain goods. But it looks like you’ve run into some trouble…”

Wood cut Iron Hammer off. “Stranger, this is none of your business. We have no mountain goods to trade. You should leave!”

Iron Hammer shrugged and spread his hands. Just as he was about to leave, the old mountain man who had first come out called, “Wait!”

“Father!” Wood tried to stop the old man but was pushed aside. The old man said to Iron Hammer, “Commander Iron Hammer, do you have salt?”

Iron Hammer smiled. “Of course. The question is, what do you have?”

“Why don’t you come and sit for a while? We’ve lost our homes, but we still have some good things, like the amber your friends seem to like.”

The old man said slyly. The mountain folk opposite them put away their bows and pulled the wooden stakes from the ground, opening a path in the simple fence. Iron Hammer turned back and gave a hand signal. The mercenary company lowered their weapons and pushed their wheelbarrows into the mountain folks’ camp.

Ignoring the descending darkness, the freemen merchants eagerly began trading salt with the mountain folk for their goods. Iron Hammer sat around a bonfire with his two vice-commanders and a few of the mountain folk. He asked the old man, “What exactly happened?”

The old man sighed and told Iron Hammer their story.

It turned out that three months ago, the mountain folk had stored enough food to comfortably get through the cold Season of Water, but Knights from the Briatte family had suddenly attacked their village. He had escaped with the survivors. Later, they met mountain folk from several other villages and learned from them that the Briatte family’s army had sacked every stockade in this forest, driving out more than one thousand mountain folk. Those with connections went to Chapman territory to try and make a living, but his people had only ever dealt with the villages of Bryat’s fief. Now, they could only hide in the forest, living from hand to mouth.

“In the past, the village heads of the Briatte family were fair in their dealings with us, so we mostly ignored the villages in Chapman territory. We never expected the master of the Briatte family would no longer allow us to occupy this forest. We have nowhere else to go. Commander Iron Hammer, we are all excellent hunters. We can fight for you. I beg you, find a way for us to survive. Let us join your mercenary company,” the old man pleaded with Iron Hammer.

“I’ll discuss it with my men,” Iron Hammer said, his expression unchanging.

After the mountain folk left, Vice-Commander Fermi said to Iron Hammer, “What do they mean by that? We’ve just met, and they already want to join up?”

Iron Hammer gave a wry smile. “It’s the mountain folks’ way. When you can’t survive, you seek refuge with other mountain folk. They’re usually taken in. Even if the group isn’t accepted, they’ll at least take the women and children and give them some supplies to fend for themselves. In their eyes, I’m just another mountain man!”

Kidd said in a low voice, “I’ve checked. There are a little over three hundred of them, mostly the old, weak, women, and children. You’re not thinking of doing a good deed, are you?”

Iron Hammer pointed at his own nose. “Do I look like the kind of person who does good deeds?”

“Fine then. Toss them some supplies, and we leave in the morning.”

Iron Hammer nodded, then added, “Yes, but let’s ask Bull first.”

Bull was the leader of these Alchemical militia. He was also one of the first batch of Crouching Ox Militiamen to be created and had been practicing the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form for a year. His strength had earned him the respect of Iron Hammer and the others, so Kidd and Fermi both nodded in agreement.

Iron Hammer called Bull over and explained the situation.

“Bull, what do you think?”

Bull said, “Mercenary Handbook, Article Four: ‘Recruit mountain folk who can be recruited for the purpose of establishing stable strongholds. Provide appropriate assistance without endangering oneself. It is best to have a stronghold available for a caravan’s use every fifteen days’ journey. The specific situation is to be determined by the commander and vice-commanders; all others are to obey unconditionally.’”

Iron Hammer and his two old pals looked at each other in bewilderment. After a long moment, he asked, “Is that what you think?”

“It is My lord’s will!”

Nicole and Edwen stood before a mud pit a thousand square meters in size, staring blankly.

“Victor, you made us drop everything we were doing just to come and look at this pit?” Edwen asked, pointing at the shallow crater.

Victor smiled and nodded.

“Victor, did you dig this pit?” Nicole asked in a sweet voice, holding his arm.

Victor laughed. “Baroness Fynikos, this is a pit I dug for your York family.”

Chapter 173: Absolutely Brilliant

Edwen circled the shallow pit again and again. Nicole was growing worried that the old scholar would make himself dizzy and collapse. Just as she was about to speak, he said, “Victor, are you digging a cistern?”

“Ah? Yes, it’s a cistern!”

Nicole was a little disappointed. Cisterns were nothing new in the human kingdoms. They were quite common, especially in regions that lacked rivers and lakes. The Kingdom of Naville, for example, had built many cisterns in its mountain fortresses to collect rainwater for people and livestock, and to water vegetable plots. In fact, Nicole herself was currently leading people to dig cisterns. Her fief had only a few mountain streams, which were fine for daily use, but tens of thousands of able-bodied men would soon be stationed there. It would be too much trouble if so many people had to go to the mountain streams for drinking water. Thus, Nicole was supervising the construction of ten camps, each with its own cistern.

Victor had pulled Nicole and Edwen away from their busy work, claiming he had a gift for her that would turn her fief into a land of bounty and riches. Nicole and Edwen had rushed over, full of anticipation, only to find a cistern. Despite her disappointment, the thought of Victor’s kind intentions filled her with a sweet warmth.

“Victor, you’re so kind!”

Edwen rolled his eyes at the sky. Judging by the size of the pit and the water collected inside, it was obviously dug before Nicole had even been invested with her title.

Nicole was completely oblivious to this. Infatuation had truly clouded her judgment!

Victor had many amazing ideas, but he often stumbled over common knowledge. Edwen felt compelled to explain the pros and cons of cisterns to him in detail.

“Victor, the amount of arable land is tied to the water source. A cistern can collect enough rainwater for growing vegetables, but for wheat, it’s useless no matter how big you dig it! In fact, a cistern can’t be too large; the larger it is, the faster the water evaporates. The main function of a cistern is to collect rainwater, but rain falls evenly over the land. So, small cisterns are easy to fill, while large ones not only fail to fill up, but their water evaporates more readily. Furthermore, rainfall is erratic. The water level in a cistern fluctuates, making it insufficient for irrigating wheat, which has a much longer growing cycle. So tell me, what were you really thinking, digging a pit this far out?”

Victor smiled. “Master, I knew I couldn’t hide it from you. I did indeed dig this pit to increase our farmland. I only realized the importance of lakes after I reclaimed the lake in my own territory. So, I wanted to manually dig a lake here, which could add at least twenty thousand mu of wheat fields. Unfortunately, a heavy rainstorm ruined my plan.”

“That’s not surprising,” Edwen said. “In the early days, others tried to use cisterns to increase their farmland. They all encountered the same problem. No one does that anymore.”

Nicole chimed in with words of comfort, “Victor, the cistern you dug is still very useful. With a little tidying up, it could irrigate a thousand mu of vegetable plots.”

Victor was caught between laughter and tears. “I didn’t come all this way to dig a pit just to grow vegetables,” he said.

This was what puzzled Edwen as well. The pit was not in the heart of Randell Fief, but in the southeastern corner of Nicole’s territory, a full seventy kilometers from Victor’s Brick Kiln Village. Whether it was for gathering clay to make bricks or digging a lake to create farmland, Victor should not have chosen this location.

“I chose this spot for two reasons. First, it’s close to a water source. Second, the terrain here is relatively high,” Victor said, pointing to the south. “Look, we’re only six kilometers from the Goldwater River. The Goldwater River flows from west to east, which means the western terrain is higher than the eastern. My plan was to first dig a giant cistern here, then build a channel southwest to connect the Goldwater River to the cistern. With a stable water source, the cistern would become a lake, capable of irrigating tens of thousands of mu of farmland.”

No one in this world had ever proposed the concept of an artificial lake. Edwen and Nicole were stunned by Victor’s magnificent plan, one that dared to reshape the very land. Nicole stared at Victor’s elegant profile, her bright eyes filled with worship and admiration, while Edwen fell into deep thought.

“Two problems,” Edwen said, emerging from his contemplation. “First, aside from the Kingdom of Borea, no one has ever tried to tap the Goldwater River. The Fishmen are an unavoidable obstacle. To draw water from the river, you must clear out the Fishmen on its banks. The Kingdom of Borea fought the Fishmen for eighty years just to build Alexandria Port, and they are still fighting them to this day. Second, the water from the Goldwater River would be enough to flood the lake. The water would spread east from the lake, straight into the Black River, turning the vast area in between into a marshland, which would also be occupied by Fishmen. This would be tantamount to expanding their territory for them.”

Victor nodded. “Master, your considerations are very thorough. However, in my view, these are not problems. Firstly, the riverside Fishmen have been through the Ant-man plague. I personally witnessed several great battles between the Fishmen and the Ant-man swarms. At least twenty thousand Fishmen were annihilated. The Fishmen on the Chapman family’s lands also suffered heavy losses; it’s said that over thirty thousand were devoured by the swarm. In this area, the Fishmen population has plummeted and is no longer a cause for concern.”

The Ant-men had achieved in just one year what the Kingdom of Borea had failed to do in eighty. This was because both the Fishmen and the Ant-men fought in massive hordes. Humans lacked the logistics to support such large-scale warfare and could not bear the enormous casualties among common soldiers. Humans fought with Knights as their core, apprentice knights as their backbone, and elite soldiers as support, targeting the enemy’s effective forces and then relying on castles to rest and regroup, gradually wearing down the enemy until victory was achieved.

The Fishmen had extremely poor memories. No matter how great a loss they suffered, they would launch a counterattack as soon as they gathered sufficient numbers. Faced with this, human armies would choose to avoid a direct confrontation, waiting for the Fishmen to disperse before striking hard. The Fishmen died in great numbers, but they also reproduced in great numbers, which was why it took the Kingdom of Borea a full eighty years to minimize their influence. The Ant-men, however, were different. They chose to meet them head-on. Consequently, the forgetful Fishmen met a tragic end.

After understanding the full story, Edwen couldn’t help but sigh, “The Ant-men, with no individual consciousness, are truly a nightmare for all intelligent races!”

Victor smiled and continued, “Master, the second problem is also easy to solve. We just need to build a giant gate at the junction of the Goldwater River and the channel.”

“A gate?”

“Doesn’t the gate of Black Fortress have a portcullis made of refined iron? We can use that kind of gate to regulate the water volume. When the lake’s water level drops, we raise the gate to let water in. When the lake is full, we lower the gate to block the river. I call this type of gate a sluice gate.”

“Brilliant! No! This is a work of genius!” Edwen muttered to himself, then said excitedly, “What are we waiting for? Let’s go to the riverbank and have a look!”

Victor, Nicole, and Edwen, along with a squad of elite guards, arrived at the bank of the Goldwater River. The riverbanks were indeed sparsely populated, with only a few Fishmen here and there. After the guards shot and killed the handful of menacing Fishmen, Edwen stood less than fifty meters from the Goldwater River.

Gazing at the surging waves of the Goldwater River, Edwen turned to Victor and said, “You just said that those two problems weren’t really problems. So what is the real problem?”

“Time!” Victor stepped forward to stand shoulder to shoulder with Edwen, pointing at the river. “Fishmen reproduce quickly and grow quickly. In four or five years at most, they will become a major problem again. We must complete this project as soon as possible. Also, digging the giant pit will be affected by rainfall, so we must concentrate our manpower and get it dug out first.”

Edwen fell silent for a moment, then turned his head and asked, “Victor, did you design this channel and artificial lake just to help Nicole? When you started digging this pit, Nicole wasn’t the lord here yet. And this design of a channel plus a reservoir can be replicated, can’t it?”

No one can plan for everything, Victor lamented inwardly. He hadn’t expected Edwen to see through his canal plan from just a few scraps of information, disrupting his entire setup. But since things had come to this, he decided to be frank. “Master, you are correct. With the first artificial lake, I can continue to build more channels and artificial lakes. Eventually, a canal will run through my territory, adding several million mu of farmland for me.”

“Several million mu!” Nicole gasped, covering her mouth.

Edwen’s eyes burned brightly. “Far more than that! This canal could run through the entire Centaur Hills, adding tens of millions of mu of farmland!”

Nicole felt a little dizzy. Her fief was 3,000 square kilometers, but with only mountain streams, she could at most cultivate a few thousand mu of land. The York family, including their vassals, had only cultivated about ten million mu in total. Victor’s promise to add hundreds of thousands of mu of farmland to her fief and turn it into a land of bounty was, it turned out, no lie.

Nicole looked at Victor with deep affection, but Edwen said gravely, “Nicole! If you don’t want Victor to be in danger, this matter must never be leaked to anyone!”

Nicole’s heart skipped a beat. She declared firmly, “I will never tell anyone!”

“Victor, let’s go! There are many more details to discuss!” Edwen grabbed Victor and pulled him away.

For the next ten-odd days, Edwen put aside all his other work and joined Victor in surveying the terrain of Randell Fief—its streams, ravines, rivers, and lakes. They ate and lived together, constantly discussing and researching, perfecting the canal plan. Finally, the old scholar returned to Black Fortress Town, clutching a large stack of scrolls.

In Rose Manor, Sylvia rested her chin in her hand, staring blankly at the huge map on the wall.

“Victor and I call this plan the artificial irrigation system. It mainly consists of sluice gates, channels, and reservoirs. The principle is that the sluice gates control the water, the channels divert and drain it, and the reservoirs store it. Let me first talk about the most important part, the head sluice gate. It will be located on the bank of the Goldwater River. On the surface, it’s no different from a fortress’s iron portcullis, also made of refined iron and operated by a windlass and iron chains. However, for safety, I have designed a triple-gate system. The first gate is the main one, while the other two are backups. Although refined iron is corrosion-resistant, it will still need replacing over time. Underneath the gate, we’ll build a grate of refined iron to prevent Fishmen from entering the channel. To defend against Fishmen harassment, we will also need to build a castle and two seven-meter-high walls around this gate to facilitate the movement of soldiers. I’ve already drawn up the detailed design blueprints.”

“Besides this large sluice gate, we will also need to build many smaller ones. Don’t worry, these small sluice gates are very simple, made of stone slabs, and won’t cost much. As for where to build them, we can discuss that later.”

Sylvia let out a long sigh of relief. Edwen had abandoned his work at the entrance to the Great Marsh and run back with this world-shaking plan. If every sluice gate was going to be this elaborate, they could sell off the entire York family and it still wouldn’t be enough.

Edwen continued, “Next are the artificial channels. According to Victor’s design, the main channel connecting to the first reservoir will be three meters wide, six kilometers long, with a downward step every five hundred meters, an average depth of one-point-five meters, and an overall drop of four meters. To prevent silting, the channel will be lined with green brick. Embankments three meters higher than the ground level will also need to be built on both sides of the channel.”

“The channels extending from the first reservoir will be simpler: four meters wide, one-point-eight meters deep, with a small reservoir built approximately every twenty kilometers. The overall drop will be twelve meters, with embankments one-point-five meters high. Victor’s idea was to pave the bottom with green bricks, but I think gravel will suffice. The Centaur Hills don’t have large stone quarries, but there is plenty of gravel.”

“Then there are the reservoirs. The first one will be two hundred mu in size and twenty meters deep. The rest will be fifty mu in size and eight meters deep. I’ve calculated that we will need about fifty such nodal reservoirs. The channel from the last reservoir will lead directly to the Black River. The entire artificial river will then be one thousand one hundred kilometers long, traversing the Centaur Hills from southwest to northeast, finally emptying into the Black River. This will create a triangular area between the Black River and the canal, adding eighty million mu of farmland. Oh, and the canal and reservoirs will also have an abundance of fish and shrimp.”

“Seventy million mu… seventy million mu… My dear Victor, you’ve really given me such a problem!”

Sylvia murmured, rubbing her forehead. After a moment, she looked up and said, “Uncle Edwen, digging a river over a thousand kilometers long and more than fifty lakes… how could you two even dare to imagine such a thing? How much manpower would it take? How much time? How many resources would it consume? Do you think the York family can do this on our own? Only a nation like Gambis, with its full might, could possibly accomplish this! Farmers need to farm, soldiers need to train, who has the time to dig rivers every day? As tempting as the prospects of this artificial irrigation system are, I cannot agree to it!”

Edwen shook his head and chuckled. “Victor is brilliant, a true genius. After my in-depth exchange with him, I came to understand that his agricultural system and this artificial irrigation system are complementary. The agricultural system can produce enough surplus grain to free up farmers to work on water conservancy projects, and these projects, in turn, can increase the number of farms and villages, expand the family’s actual control over the territory, solve the problem of monster invasions, and thus ensure the agricultural system can continue to be implemented.” As he spoke, Edwen walked over to the map and pointed to the mountainous area in the west.

“If we were to build the canals directly, the family would indeed find it hard to bear. Therefore, Victor suggested we first build large cisterns. Look, this is the mountainous region on the west side of the Centaur Hills. Many streams and creeks flow out from here. They are mainly fed by mountain springs, and because their volume is relatively small, they quickly seep back into the ground and cannot be used to irrigate farmland. However, whenever it rains, the water volume in the mountains surges, rushing down along these streams and flowing directly into the Black River through low-lying areas.”

“Victor believes that not only do these waterways show us the lay of the land, but with a little modification, they can become natural channels. By digging large cisterns in the middle of these west-to-east channels, once it rains, the mountain streams and rainwater will fill the pits, turning them into small reservoirs. Building small sluice gates on the channels behind the reservoirs can prevent floods and alleviate droughts. This design alone could add twenty million mu of farmland, produce more food, accommodate a larger population, and then we can slowly build the main north-south channels. When the entire water project is complete, you’ll find the whole of Centaur Hills crisscrossed with channels and waterways. The reclaimed fertile land will likely exceed a hundred million mu!”

A brilliant light shone in Sylvia’s azure eyes. Victor’s line of thinking was clear: first, build cisterns in low-lying areas, using mountain water and streams to create small east-west channels and small sluice gates, transforming the cisterns into small reservoirs. Then, slowly excavate the main north-south channels, using the small reservoirs as hubs to connect the many small channels to the main one. In the end, this magnificent water project would be completed in a piecemeal fashion. What was digging a few cisterns? And the small sluice gates were just stone slabs a few meters wide. It could be said that Victor’s design minimized the cost to the extreme, while bringing benefits that Sylvia could not refuse.

“Absolutely brilliant!” Sylvia took a deep breath and declared, “Victor has thought of what no one dared to think, so the York family must do what no one has dared to do!”

Edwen nodded and smiled. “As it should be!”

Chapter 174: A Detailed Discussion

Two squads of well-equipped cavalry guarded a giant carriage, proceeding slowly along a simple road. The cavalrymen rode in pairs, side by side. They were tall with solemn gazes, their refined iron chainmail engraved with rose patterns. The carriage they escorted was four meters long and two meters wide. The pomelo wood carriage was trimmed with red copper, the red copper sheets polished to a mirror-like shine, and likewise carved with exquisite rose patterns, giving it a magnificent and stately appearance.

Inside the carriage, Sylvia’s star-like eyes were slightly closed as she savored the afterglow of their pleasure. She opened her azure eyes and saw Victor lying motionless on the takin wool cushion, playing dead. She couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, reaching out a slender hand to stroke her lover’s forehead.

The daily life of a local noble was relaxed and monotonous. Fief matters were handled by village heads, town mayors, and officials of various ranks, while a steward managed family affairs. To protect the animal resources of the fief, the grand hunt could only be held once a year. For the rest of the time, besides polishing their Aura, they worked to propagate their bloodline. Many knightly nobles had more than one lover, but Sylvia was an exception.

When high-ranking knights communed with the Elemental Sea, they had to be steadfast in their beliefs, or they would face the fate of being assimilated by the elements. Firstly, a knight’s belief could not be the pursuit of power; no power could compare to the Elemental Sea, and a knight who pursued power would be immediately assimilated by it. Nor could it be based on carnal desire, as that was too easily obtained for a knight, even before reaching the pinnacle. The vast majority of knights held protection as their creed: protecting the kingdom, protecting their family, protecting their home. Therefore, knights did not practice abstinence, but they would not indulge in debauchery either.

For a long time, Pinnacle Knights, whose minds had been scoured by the Elemental Sea, temporarily lost the normal human spectrum of joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness, aside from their own creed of protection. They became detached and unfeeling. In order to rediscover the joys of life and to step into the legendary realm, Pinnacle Knights often needed to return to a normal family life to soothe their cold hearts.

Sylvia had entered the pinnacle realm with the belief of protecting her family, and she had encountered the same problem. But she was also an extremely rare fire-element Gold Knight. During the Age of Wizards, fire-element Gold Knights were called Spirit Knights. Spirit Knights represented power and untouchability; they could not bear offspring and would destroy their partner’s Elemental Node, turning them into an ordinary noble. After Sylvia achieved the pinnacle, to help her escape the influence of the Elemental Sea, the old Duke of the York family issued an order to the orphans of his eldest son: whoever married Sylvia would be the family’s heir. In the end, Enbise York shouldered this responsibility. As a result, he gained the ducal title but was reduced to an ordinary noble. In Sylvia’s eyes, Duke York, having lost his knightly form, was full of flaws, and she cast him far aside. From then on, Sylvia found pleasure in growing roses, until Victor appeared in her life.

Victor, having awakened his Moon Elf bloodline, possessed a life essence comparable to a Silver Knight’s, which was why Sylvia was willing to be close to him. However, to Sylvia, a lover was merely an optional diversion; what truly moved her heart was her creed of protecting her family. In this regard, Victor had given her too many surprises. The Purple Cane wine, the giant brick kiln, the rock bricks—each one made her heart blossom with joy. The agropastoral system and the water irrigation system excited her even more. Finally, unable to control her emotions, Sylvia had come to him of her own accord.

A cool stream of air spread from his forehead throughout his body. Victor felt utterly refreshed, all his fatigue gone. He could no longer keep up the pretense. Seeing Sylvia raise her hand to pull a rope inside the carriage, he quickly said, “Don’t! I’ll help you.”

This rope was connected to a bell outside the carriage. Once the bell rang, a female apprentice knight from outside would enter to help them wash up and change. Victor wasn’t keen on a stranger prying into his private affairs.

“Let me do it!”

Sylvia’s smile was like a blooming flower. She put on her spider silk long dress and then carefully helped Victor get dressed, her expression as gentle as that of a young wife. Seeing Victor’s odd expression, Sylvia understood his thoughts in an instant and pouted, “Did you think I don’t even know how to get dressed?”

Victor said sheepishly, “A Pinnacle Knight is dressing me. I’m not quite used to it.”

“And you weren’t unaccustomed when you were with a Pinnacle Knight?” Sylvia slanted a glance at Victor.

Victor rubbed his nose and said honestly, “I am still a bit unaccustomed. I was afraid you’d accidentally crush me to death.” Seeing her elegant eyebrows begin to rise, he quickly added, “But then again, who could blame me when you’re so beautiful?”

“Hehe.”

Sylvia giggled and leaned against Victor, finding the most comfortable position. Whether he was sincere or not, Victor’s sweet words always pleased her.

“Victor, the stream reservoir you designed is very practical. How did you think of it?”

The working people of Huaxia would build dams and dikes in low-lying basins surrounded by mountains on three sides, intercepting mountain floods to form reservoirs. These had numerous benefits: irrigating fields during droughts, diverting water during floods, raising fish, and generating electricity. However, reservoirs on Earth could be dozens of meters deep, with dams built from reinforced concrete. Victor lacked such conditions. He could only build small sluice gates, channels two to three meters wide, and small reservoirs eight to ten meters deep to achieve his goal of storing water. The storage capacity of such small reservoirs was quite limited, able to irrigate about 8,000 mu of farmland at most. Fortunately, its cost was low and it was safe enough.

Victor thought for a moment and replied, “I didn’t think of it, so much as I saw and heard it.”

“Saw and heard it?” Sylvia looked at Victor in surprise, reaching out to ruffle his hair. She complained coquettishly, “Don’t keep me in suspense. Tell me, quickly.”

Catching Sylvia’s delicate hand, Victor smiled. “What do you usually do when it rains? Arrange flowers? Sleep? Or admire the rainy scenery? I used to be just as idle, but after becoming a lord, I started to personally inspect my fief, because I had no steward and no officials. During the rainy Season of Water, I saw many small rivers flowing westward into the Blackwater River. In other seasons, they were just dry channels… I happened to need water, and I wondered, where does the water come from? So, I asked my subjects, and it turned out some of them were Mountain folk. They told me that when it rains, the rainwater in the mountains converges from high to low places, forming mountain torrents that flow all the way into lakes or rivers… And that’s how the idea of a stream reservoir came about.”

“And then, you had an even bolder idea. To divert water from the Goldwater River into reservoirs, creating a stable water system to irrigate millions of mu of farmland. But you didn’t plan on telling me. If Master Edwen hadn’t seen through your scheme, how long were you planning to hide it?” Sylvia asked, raising an eyebrow with a smile that wasn’t quite a smile.

Victor indeed had no intention of directly selling his canal plan to the York family. There were still many problems he hadn’t figured out. To build a large-scale water project, one needed the right timing, the right location, and the right people. The right timing was the current vacuum left after the Ant-man plague devastated the riverside Fishmen; the right location was the Goldwater River, the mountainous terrain of the Centaur Hills, and the Black River; and the right people was not as simple as manpower and resources.

In essence, canals were a product of a centralized system, not a feudal one. Even under a centralized system, it wasn’t uncommon for villages to fight-to-the-death over water, let alone lords who each governed their own fief. A canal would involve a series of issues like maintenance and dredging. How would the dozen or so lords of various sizes in the Centaur Hills coordinate amongst themselves? One could say that the management and coordination mechanism required for the canal would shake the very foundations of the feudal system.

Changes to the political landscape could bring either fortune or disaster. Victor just wanted to focus on building his strength and had no desire to cause a major upheaval. However, if he didn’t divert the Goldwater River now, Victor would truly miss his chance once the riverside Fishmen repopulated and grew strong again.

“I hadn’t thought it through completely,” Victor said, biting the bullet.

“I haven’t either!”

Sylvia leaned closer to Victor, her breath fragrant as orchid, her azure eyes full of laughter and admiration. Victor realized that Sylvia had also thought of the political problems the canal would bring. He then heard her say, “Darling, there’s no need to rush, is there?”

“The stream reservoirs are enough for now. Let’s put the canal that runs through the Centaur Hills aside for the time being. I can help you build the first sluice gate, the first man-made channel, and the first reservoir. However, you will have to build the canal in the Randell Fief yourself. I can give you some support, but you must agree to a few conditions.”

Victor was overjoyed and hurriedly asked, “What conditions?”

“First, you must help Master Edwen complete the site selection for the stream reservoirs, in preparation for the eventual completion of the canal.”

“Second, after the water irrigation facilities in the Randell Fief are completed, half of the fief’s grain must be sold openly to the York family at half the market price.”

Victor thought for a moment, then nodded. “No problem. I designed the agropastoral and water systems to increase the strength of the Centaur Hills and to prepare for the next Ant-man tide.”

It was a consensus among the human kingdoms that the Ant-men would invade the Centaur Hills again, and the traditional tactic of knights and castles could no longer cope with the numerous and unbreakable Ant-men. The best way to deal with the Ant-man plague was to block them at the entrance to the Great Marsh. But Sylvia and Victor believed the ant swarms might bypass the three fortresses and attack from the north of the Centaur Hills. To deal with this possibility, the Centaur Hills needed more fortresses, castles, and soldiers. Therefore, the Centaur Hills needed a larger population. This was the starting point of Victor’s development strategy and the basis of his cooperation with Sylvia. Victor’s secretive attitude had made Sylvia very dissatisfied.

“Third, you must tell me your ideas in a timely manner! Otherwise, I’ll take Nicole away!” Sylvia wagged a slender, pale finger in front of Victor’s nose.

Victor nodded with a wry smile. “I promise!”

“Fourth…”

“There’s a fourth?!”

Victor was aghast, but Sylvia said seriously, “I want you to keep the agropastoral system, the water irrigation facilities, the giant brick kiln, and the rock bricks a secret. From now on, the agropastoral system and the water project will be Master Edwen’s inventions, the giant brick kiln will be Intendant Anthony’s invention… I know these creations could let you leave your mark on history. But I’d rather you stay out of trouble. To say nothing of the rest, just the stream reservoir and the sluice gate would be enough to drive the Naville people mad. They would do anything to kidnap you, so…”

“No problem! I agree,” Victor said repeatedly.

Sylvia had thought this would be the most difficult condition, yet Victor agreed so readily. She studied his face carefully and shook her head with a smile. “You’re not at all like a nineteen-year-old noble. You’re more like a total… like a… never mind. Perhaps the ideas of a genius are just different.”

Victor smiled faintly, thinking to himself, “These things weren’t my inventions to begin with. I’m getting the practical benefits, so what’s the use of fame…”

“Tell me, what compensation do you want? How about I pick a female apprentice knight to be your personal handmaiden? I’m sure they’d be more than happy…” Sylvia said with a charming laugh.

“Ah… no, no! Having you is enough for me.” Victor hurriedly waved his hands, refusing Sylvia’s “kind offer.” He had so many secrets that he even had to hide them from Nicole. How could he let another female knight into his life?

Victor thought for a moment and added, “Just help me persuade the supervising Father sent by the Church.”

“Darling, your problems are no problem for me,” Sylvia said. “I’ve already given the order to build the northernmost fortress first, and the people from the Church will go there too. As for the fortress here, we’ll build it in two years. I will leave ten thousand men for Nicole. The kingdom will transport the stone, but won’t provide grain. The York family will supply the workers’ food for two years, so you have two years to utilize this manpower… Victor, show me what you can do!”

“I won’t disappoint you!” Victor said, full of confidence.

“By the way, Soren Wimbledon has already sent people to build a castle in his fief. Your fief to the north borders his. I suggest you send someone to station there soon, to prevent them from encroaching on your territory,” Sylvia reminded him.

Victor frowned. He had requested that northernmost piece of land in the Centaur Hills to serve as a base for the freemen merchant group’s northern journeys, but he hadn’t had time to manage it. He never expected Soren to become his neighbor there, and for Soren’s fief to cut that 300-square-kilometer territory off from the rest of the Centaur Hills. Now, Victor had to consider sending men to garrison it, otherwise he would have to take mountain roads to send people there later.

“I understand.”

Sylvia sat up straight from Victor’s embrace and knocked on the carriage wall. The convoy gradually came to a halt.

“Victor, it’s time for you to go back. I’d rather not have you spend the night in the wilderness.”

Chapter 175: Swiftbird Light Cavalry

On the western side of the Randell Fief, in the mountain stronghold.

The brilliant sunlight filtered through the dense canopy, leaving mottled spots of light on the ground. A few delightfully clumsy Swiftbird chicks played and frolicked around a pillar of light in the forest. These round little fluffballs huddled together, looking utterly adorable. Two young male birds pecked and tussled over a branch, showing off their strength to their sisters. When the male leader strode over with a majestic gait, the two young cocks immediately settled down.

A few Alchemical militia pushed a small cart near the flock, and Swiftbirds of all sizes immediately gathered around. The Purple Cane leaves in the cart were dumped on the ground, but the Swiftbirds remained indifferent. The strong leader even let out a dissatisfied cry, as if urging them for something else. A militiaman opened a wooden crate, and dozens of fat ground lizards tumbled out. The flock instantly grew excited, chasing the short-legged ground lizards scurrying all over the ground. The plump little Swiftbird chicks also waddled over. The male leader pinned a ground lizard with its powerful claws, drove away two presumptuous young Swiftbirds, and three adult females tore the lizard to pieces to feed the crying, hungry chicks.

From a high ridge, Victor watched the fourteen Swiftbirds eat and asked Busuo, who was beside him, “How many Swiftbirds do I have now?”

“My lord, thirty-seven in total,” Busuo replied.

After seeing Sylvia off, Victor had not returned to his manor in Rivermouth Village but had come directly to the mountain stronghold. Compared to a few months ago, Victor’s mountain stronghold had grown even more prosperous.

The mountain land reclaimed by the Alchemical militia had increased to over two hundred and sixty-six hectares. These fields were scattered around the stronghold, mainly growing vegetables and ground-potatoes, as well as small amounts of medicinal herbs and berries. Besides feeding the more than five hundred Alchemical humans, the produce could also be sent to Rivermouth Village. Due to the quiet and secluded environment, free from outside interference, Victor had also ordered Busuo to selectively breed Spelt wheat, ground-potatoes, and wild vegetables in the hopes of obtaining superior seeds. In addition, the Alchemical militia had cleared large swathes of shrubs to expand the planting area for Oilwood and Dark Astringent Fruit trees. He believed that in a few years, the number of these precious trees would increase significantly.

The Alchemical militia were now raising over three thousand ground lizards, which produced an average of more than seven hundred eggs per day. The eggs were for the Alchemical humans to eat, while the lizards themselves provided supplemental nutrition for the Warhounds and Swiftbirds. To Victor’s pleasant surprise, the first batch of Swiftbird chicks had already hatched. The Swiftbird population had reached thirty-seven, divided into four flocks. According to Busuo, female Swiftbirds reproduce once a year, laying one to two eggs each time. It took three years for a chick to reach adulthood. In another year, the young Swiftbirds would form new flocks, at which point their population would grow exponentially, though their numbers would still be limited by the availability of Purple Cane. Busuo estimated that the current Purple Cane forest could support a maximum of three thousand Swiftbirds.

“Let’s go! To the weapons workshop.”

The blacksmith’s shop on the south side of the mountain stronghold had transformed from a simple wooden shelter into a brick-and-tile weapons workshop. It still had no surrounding walls; rock brick pillars supported Iron-oak beams, and the thatch on the roof had been replaced with tiles. A mountain stream flowed past the workshop, carrying its wastewater over the western cliff to form a small waterfall that emptied into the Great Marsh. Dozens of Alchemical auxiliary soldiers with forging skills toiled endlessly in the workshop. The ding-dong of hammers striking anvils and the sizzle of red-hot iron plunged into cold water rose and fell in a ceaseless rhythm.

Victor nodded in satisfaction. He now had two iron workshops, one overt and one covert. The overt one was at Hill Camp, responsible for forging wood-shafted spears, arrowheads, crossbow bolts, leather armor, and round shields, as well as civilian items like farm tools, stirrups, and carriage parts. The covert one was here, responsible for forging refined iron mail, refined iron short spears, refined iron longswords, Thorium crossbows, Thorium crossbow bolts, and small, detachable catapults. As long as there were materials, these two workshops could endlessly produce fine equipment to arm Victor’s army. So far, the stronghold’s warehouse stored two hundred Thorium heavy crossbows, three thousand Thorium crossbow bolts, five hundred regular Thorium crossbows, two hundred longbows, fifty greatbows, two hundred sets of refined iron mail, six hundred refined iron one-handed spears, and three hundred refined iron longswords. But Victor was not here to see this top-tier equipment today.

“Busuo, how is the Swiftbird light cavalry equipment I asked you to make coming along?”

Busuo said, “My lord, we have already crafted one set.” With that, Busuo opened a cabinet and placed the equipment inside on a long table one by one.

“My lord, according to your requirements, the light cavalry equipment includes a refined iron one-handed spear, a refined iron shortsword, three refined iron javelins, a longbow, a Thorium crossbow, two quivers, a shovel, refined iron mail, an Iron-oak round shield, cowhide inner armor, leather gloves, and leather boots. There is also a sundry pouch containing a flint, hemostatic powder, antidote, paralysis potion, raw sugar cubes, and a silver needle and fine linen thread for suturing wounds.”

Victor carefully examined the light cavalry equipment, then asked, “Have you tested it? What were the results?”

“It has been tested. The total weight of the equipment is one hundred and forty pounds. When an Alchemical militiaman rides a Swiftbird, the bird’s speed is reduced by thirty percent, its jumping ability by forty percent, and its running distance is halved. Additionally, the longbow can pierce leather armor within fifty meters and mail within sixty meters, but it fails to meet the requirement of killing elite soldiers within eighty meters.”

Victor’s fief was vast, including twenty-eight hundred square kilometers of mountains. To control such a large territory, Victor’s current forces were sufficient, but his northern territory was isolated, over a thousand kilometers from the Randell Fief, and he felt his reach didn’t extend that far. Most critically, Soren was a malicious neighbor, and Victor was very worried that Soren’s forces would attack the freemen caravans heading north. To deal with this situation, he needed a rapid assault force that could adapt to mountainous terrain.

The Warhounds had excellent mobility but were not very effective against armored knights, making Swiftbird light cavalry the best option. Victor’s Swiftbird light cavalry was designed to intercept squads of knights and use the terrain to escape pursuit from a Silver Knight. However, the Swiftbird’s carrying capacity was insufficient for all this equipment. If he reduced the defensive gear, the cavalry would likely suffer heavy casualties.

Victor frowned and asked, “What’s the solution?”

Busuo replied, “We can replace the refined iron one-handed spear with a Thorium one-handed spear with a paulownia wood shaft, remove the javelins, replace the refined iron mail and cowhide inner armor with Thorium leather armor, and swap the longbow for a Thorium shortbow. This will solve the problems of weight and the longbow’s insufficient killing power.”

The Thorium leather armor Busuo mentioned was not made of cowhide, but of four-centimeter-thick giant rhino hide. This Thorium armor made from giant rhino hide had the flexibility of leather armor, was lighter than mail, yet its defensive capabilities were close to that of plate armor, enough to withstand a volley of crossbow bolts. But Victor was currently short on even cowhide, let alone giant rhino hide.

“Can’t we use cowhide? Can a triple-layer cowhide Thorium leather armor meet the requirement of defending against crossbows?” Victor asked helplessly.

“If we use more Thorium, the cowhide armor can meet your requirement, but its weight will exceed that of refined iron mail,” Busuo stated matter-of-factly.

Victor decisively abandoned the idea of making Thorium leather armor from cowhide. “Forget it,” he said. “We’ll figure out the giant rhino hide later. For now, arrange for ten auxiliary soldiers, ten Crouching Ox Militiamen, thirty Lithe Ape militiamen, five Warhounds, and fifteen alchemical crows to establish a stronghold in the northernmost mountains of the Centaur Hills.”

“Yes, my lord.” Busuo nodded and asked, “What is their mission?”

“Build a mountain folk encampment, explore the surrounding resources, and lie low awaiting my orders,” Victor had just finished speaking when a militiaman walked over and said, “My lord, an alchemical crow has brought news from the Warhammer Mercenary Company.”

Victor took the letter, read it, and smiled. “Iron Hammer has some ideas after all.”

“You’re mad! Commander Iron Hammer, you must be mad! We’re all going to die!”

“Shut up!”

A trembling Fat Weyrich cowered in a simple trench, the howls of Gnolls and screams of Goblins scaring him out of his wits. The other freemen merchants were no better, each of them huddled like a frightened quail. These men, who had only ever knocked about in towns, had never seen a monster before, but they had heard of the Gnolls’ savage reputation. Now, in close proximity to these man-eating monsters, they realized the Gnolls were far more terrifying than they had ever imagined.

Wood, the chief of the Mountain folk, said cautiously, “Commander Iron Hammer, shouldn’t we relieve those brothers? They’ve been on watch for a long time. I’m worried they’ll collapse from exhaustion.”

“Can you shoot those Goblins and hyenas in the dark? If you can’t, then lie down and get some sleep. Tonight we rely on these brothers, tomorrow morning it’s our turn!” Iron Hammer said, lying in the trench without even opening his eyes.

By the light of the campfire and the moon, Wood saw a mercenary raise his longbow and shoot an arrow down the slope. A short, sharp cry came from the shadows—it was a Goblin that had been hiding in the dark, secretly throwing rocks. Such terrifying marksmanship made Wood swallow hard.

Three days ago, this band of homeless mountain folk had become a problem for the Warhammer Mercenary Company. Iron Hammer had originally planned to leave them behind and press on, but Bull suggested using them to establish a supply stronghold. After a discussion with his two old pals, Iron Hammer decided to adopt Bull’s suggestion. They asked the old mountain folk and learned that heading east through the mountain forest would lead them straight into the territory of a Gnoll tribe; there were no more mountain villages. With the Gnolls blocking their path, they had to be completely wiped out, as the next caravan would not possibly have such a powerful escort. Since they had to fight the Gnolls, they might as well bring the mountain folk along. On one hand, it would bolster their own strength; on the other, after clearing out the Gnolls, these mountain folk could settle here and become the first node on the smuggling route.

Iron Hammer told the mountain folk that joining the mercenary company meant fighting Gnolls and let them choose for themselves. The mountain folk were resilient and brave and often dealt with Gnolls, but engaging them in field battles without fortifications was an absolutely foolish decision. A fierce debate broke out among the mountain folk. In the end, the old mountain folk elder went against the dissenting opinions and decided to join the Warhammer Mercenary Company. The reason was simple: disagreeing was a death sentence. They would either be wiped out by the lord’s army, fight the mercenary company, or eventually be attacked by that Gnoll tribe anyway.

The group of over one hundred people walked along the edge of the mountain forest for three days, finally leaving the Briatte family’s sphere of influence and entering Gnoll territory. The alchemical crows had scouted a twenty-five-kilometer radius thoroughly. There were about thirty-seven Gnolls active in this area. They had enslaved a small number of Goblins and tamed about ten hyenas; their strength was extremely weak.

This band of Gnolls was weak, but their skill at fleeing was considerable. They would scatter and run at the first sign of a powerful enemy. Iron Hammer had no time to play a guerrilla war with them. Their supplies were already low, and now with over a hundred more mouths to feed, the entire group urgently needed to gather resources and replenish their food. After conferring, the three War Bear veterans decided to lure the Gnolls out and annihilate them. So, they chose a relatively open area to make camp and lit only a single bonfire. That night, the Gnolls came as expected.

This group of Gnolls’ tactics were no different from their kin’s: drive their Goblin slaves to harass the human camp, prevent their prey from resting, and then seize any opportunity to drag away the weakest target. However, tonight they were destined to gain nothing. Twenty-five Lithe Ape militiamen armed with longbows stood guard around the camp. The Goblins’ rocks were useless against their hard leather armor, and the dim night could not impede the keen Perception of the Lithe Ape militiamen. Every arrow they loosed took a Goblin’s life. By the time the sky began to lighten, the Goblin slaves were all but wiped out. The Gnoll chief let out a long howl, and they temporarily retreated, awaiting the arrival of the next night.

Iron Hammer climbed out of the trench and asked the Lithe Ape militiaman on watch, “Jerry, do you guys need to rest for a bit? We’ll go in at noon and finish those beasts off.”

Jerry said, “Commander, we don’t need to rest. We can fight at any time.”

“Bull, where are those beasts now?” Iron Hammer turned and asked Bull.

Bull looked at the alchemical crow circling in the sky and said, “To the northeast, in the woods two kilometers away. There are three more Gnolls nearby observing our movements.”

“Take out the Gnoll scouts! We’ll surround them!”

Chapter 176: Stronghold and Growth

Broken-Tail sprinted wildly through the undergrowth. The thorns on the brambles were utterly useless against its tough hide. Its sharp claws gripped the ground firmly, and each contraction of its powerful leg muscles sent it leaping three meters forward. In a mere dozen breaths, it had already covered two hundred meters. It ran at this pace for half an hour. The thought that all its foolish kin had been killed while it alone escaped the humans’ encirclement filled Broken-Tail with a surge of joy.

Broken-Tail was an ordinary member of this Gnoll tribe. They usually lived scattered throughout this mountain forest, preying on ground-rats and wild rabbits. Three days ago, Broken-Tail had answered the summons of the tribe’s chief. When it arrived at the tribal lair, it learned that a group of humans had entered their territory, and the chief was planning to catch a few to improve their diet. The thought of tender human flesh made Broken-Tail drool, but it knew humans were not to be trifled with. They had no sharp teeth or claws but possessed longbows and spears; their skin was soft, but they wore armor; their movements were clumsy, yet they could form battle lines. In the end, however, humans were still prey, and the Gnolls had ways of dealing with such prey: constant harassment, surprise attacks, denying them sleep, preventing them from hunting. The weaker humans would fall behind the group, and then the Gnolls could enjoy a fine meal—or several.

However, this group of humans was particularly troublesome. After a whole night of effort, they had sacrificed all their Goblin slaves and hadn’t even caught a whiff of human blood. Just as they were preparing to redouble their efforts the next day, the humans launched an attack of their own. Twenty-some human males suddenly charged out. The strong chief and his most capable underlings were instantly riddled with crossbow bolts, turning them into pincushions. Then, a large number of humans arrived from a distance. The Gnolls descended into chaos, all of them scrambling for their lives. Broken-Tail’s status in the tribe was extremely low; it didn’t even have the right to approach the lair and lived alone on the fringes of the territory year-round. Because of this, it was a bit more cunning than its kin. When it saw several powerful Gnolls charge the human males only to be cleaved in two, Broken-Tail decisively fled toward the main human force, escaping the encirclement just before it closed.

Broken-Tail didn’t understand how those humans had managed to evade their keen sense of smell. But as one of the lowest-ranking Gnolls, Broken-Tail could only rejoice at the miserable deaths of its kin. All it hoped for now was that two or three female Gnolls had also escaped. It would force them to become its mates, and perhaps in a few years, it would be the chief of a new tribe. Even Gnolls have dreams.

Just as it was about to run out of its territory, Broken-Tail stopped. It hesitated, wondering if it should lie low first and observe the situation. The mountain wind blew from behind, carrying a hint of danger. Broken-Tail’s hackles stood on end. As it prepared to flee again, a figure the size of a calf pounced, pinning it to the ground and sinking its teeth viciously into its neck. The Gnoll struggled desperately, its sharp claws raking at the beast that held it, but it failed to inflict any damage on its opponent. Crimson blood gushed from the wound. Before it died, Broken-Tail saw a pair of gleaming green eyes.

“How can there be a dire wolf?” With this question, the Gnoll Broken-Tail’s life and dreams came to an end.

Seeing its target was dead, the dark green Warhound began to devour the Gnoll’s corpse. Soon, a second Warhound joined in. The Alchemical Warhounds had large appetites. According to Victor’s orders, they were not to eat humans, but monsters and beastmen were on their menu.

At the other end of the forest, the Warhammer Mercenary Company and the Mountain folk were cleaning up the battlefield. The mercenaries retrieved the refined iron crossbow bolts from the Gnoll corpses, while the Mountain folk pulled out the Gnolls’ fangs and stripped them of their simple hide armor. Women and older children searched the woods for scattered stone spears and slings. Finally, dozens of men worked together to dig a large pit and bury the bodies of the Gnolls and Goblins.

“Commander, we took down thirty-four Gnolls and sixty-eight Goblins. We captured twenty-six obsidian spears, and in the Gnoll lair, we found dozens of polished obsidian spearheads and over a hundred animal hides. The hides are in terrible condition, though, full of holes,” reported Wood, the mountain folk leader, his voice full of awe. The formidable combat prowess of the Warhammer mercenaries had won the sincere admiration of this proud mountain man. Not even My Lord’s army could annihilate so many Gnolls at once.

The devastatingly easy victory thrilled Iron Hammer. He did his best to put on a nonchalant expression and said, “Don’t worry about that for now. Hurry up and find a place to camp. Send people to hunt and gather wild vegetables and fruits. We’re running low on food. And bring your father over.”

“Yes, sir!” Wood acknowledged and went off to arrange for his people to set up camp, gather, and hunt.

Before long, the old mountain folk leader walked over. Iron Hammer got straight to the point, “From now on, this mountain forest is yours.”

“Commander Iron Hammer, are you saying you don’t want us to join the mercenary company anymore?” the old man asked, pleasantly surprised. Given a choice, the Mountain folk would much rather stay in the forest and live freely.

Vice-commander Fermi sneered, “Thinking of quitting right after you joined? There’s no such easy way out. You’re still our Warhammer men, and the village you build will be a Warhammer village!”

“Of course! Of course! I’m getting old and muddled,” the old man said, beaming. “We’d just be a burden on the move. Building a village here could actually be of some use to our Warhammer Mercenary Company.”

Iron Hammer said gloomily, “You don’t act like a mountain man at all. What did you do before this?”

“I’ve always been a mountain man. I just dealt with the outside Lord Village Heads a lot, so I know a thing or two.”

“Just build the stockade first. We’ll talk about the rest later!” another vice-commander, Kidd, said gruffly.

Over the next period, the Mountain folk were incredibly busy felling trees, digging ditches, gathering, and hunting. The Alchemical militia also demonstrated their powerful physique and excellent survival skills. In just ten days, they not only helped the Mountain folk dig a trench and erect an Iron-oak fence, but also taught them how to concoct herbal potions to mask their scent and paralyze prey, as well as how to process poisonous ground-potatoes. In the process, the taciturn Alchemical militia won the respect of the Mountain folk. Many bold Mountain folk girls openly made eyes at them, but it was destined to be a futile effort.

The only ones who were dissatisfied were the few freemen merchants. After witnessing the battle with the Gnolls, their thirst for profit had once again overcome their fear of monsters. They had already traded all their salt and arrowheads for the ambers and hides the Mountain folk possessed. In the words of the fat Weyrich, it was better to find the next mountain folk village than to waste time on these profitless Mountain folk. However, when the Mountain folk discovered more amber underground in this very forest, the merchants stopped talking about leaving.

This was the nature of Gnoll territory: rich in wild vegetables, fruits, herbs, and amber, with the only thing lacking being large game. These ferocious, bloodthirsty beastmen had no concept of preserving a hunting ground. After eating all the prey in their territory, they would eat their Goblin slaves. Goblins ate anything and reproduced quickly, so with a little rationing, they could last a long time. Once the Goblins were gone, the Gnolls would roam to other places in search of food. Of course, the Mountain folk had long known that once a Gnoll tribe disappeared, herbivores would quickly migrate into the lushly vegetated area. In fact, large herds of yellow goats, takin, and wild boar were already entering the area to forage. However, the overjoyed Mountain folk did not know that the Alchemical militia, following the instructions in the Mercenary Handbook to establish a stable stronghold for the Caravan, had herded these animals over from the Briatte family’s mountains using the Alchemical Warhounds.

Fifteen days later, the Warhammer Mercenary Company had stocked up on enough ground-potatoes and dried meat, and it was time to leave. Before their departure, Iron Hammer summoned the leading men of the Mountain folk.

“By mountain folk rules, I am your chief now. Am I right?” The mountain folk exchanged glances and nodded. Iron Hammer continued, “And by mercenary rules, you joined Warhammer, which makes you my subordinates. Am I right about that too?”

“That’s right!” the mountain folk leader Wood declared loudly. “Chief, we’ll listen to you.”

“In that case, I have a few demands that you must meet,” Iron Hammer said, standing up. “From now on, I don’t care how you deal with the outside villages. But anyone who passes through here under my banner is one of us. You are to open your stockade to them and provide supplies and shelter according to the mercenary company’s rules. As for everyone else, deal with them according to mountain folk rules—rob them if you must, or tip them off as you see fit. But you must not expose our relationship to outsiders. We are all savvy people here; the nearby lords wouldn’t tolerate mountain folk colluding with outsiders.”

“No problem! But… how will we know if the people who come are our own?” the old mountain man asked nervously.

The mercenary Fermi glanced at him and said, “Don’t worry, our own people won’t give you trouble, nor will they take your things for free. They will only trade valuable goods with you, perhaps even the weapons and leather armor you so desperately need.”

“Vice-commander, that’s not what I meant,” the old man chuckled drily. “I’m just afraid of mistaking someone and messing things up.”

“We’ll agree on some passwords in a moment; we can’t have outsiders sneaking into the stockade,” Iron Hammer nodded, then said, “Second matter: you now know how to eat ground-potatoes and how to plant them. Plant more of them. The brothers who come through later will rely on them for supplies. Also, we’ve taught you the methods for making hemostatic potions, wound salves, antidotes, and paralysis potions. Make more of those, but you are absolutely forbidden from selling them to the outside villages. Otherwise…”

The old man waved his hands frantically. “We wouldn’t dare sell them! That’s the kind of stuff that attracts disaster. Selling it would cost our whole village their lives.” Turning to the other mountain folk leaders, the old man spoke in a stern voice, “Everyone who knows the secret formulas is in this room. If even a whisper of this gets out, I, Old Wolf, will burn your entire family to death! If you don’t want to die, keep an eye on each other!”

The Mountain folk lived their lives alongside wild beasts and poisonous creatures, so injuries and poisoning were commonplace. Their knowledge of herbs far surpassed that of ordinary people, but the way the Warhammer mercenaries used herbs had been a real eye-opener. Three mercenaries had mixed a few useless weeds to create two potions, which they applied to their leather armor and shortswords. They then snuck up behind three Gnoll scouts and stabbed them through the neck. The strong, keen-nosed Gnolls were killed without making a sound, completely unaware. Afterwards, the Mountain folk learned that the two potions were a scent-masking potion and a paralysis agent. Before leaving, the mercenaries taught the formulas for several potions to these mountain folk leaders. In the old man’s eyes, these were secret formulas! What he didn’t know was that these “secret formulas” were merely the most rudimentary herbal techniques known to the Alchemical militia. To ensure secrecy, Victor had even ordered the Alchemical militia to add certain plants to the recipes to reduce the potions’ effectiveness.

But a secret formula was a secret formula. The old man knew that if outsiders learned of these potions, they would be captured and tortured by the lord. Once the lord obtained the formulas, there was only one fate for these Mountain folk: they would be silenced.

“Old Wolf, you’re a savvy person,” Vice-commander Kidd said to all the mountain folk with a smile. “You have four families here. As it happens, the mercenary company is recruiting. Each family will provide one person!”

The Mountain folks’ hearts seized, but then they heard Iron Hammer say slowly, “I won’t make you any promises. That’s how I started out myself. All the men who came out with me are dead. Whether your boys can survive and make something of themselves is up to them. Now, show me your sincerity!”

Chapter 177: Letting Go

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In the second month of the Season of Earth, Victor convened the second round table meeting in Rivermouth Village.

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“To date, the population of our Randell Fief has reached 3,455 people. Among them are 1,785 able-bodied men and 1,104 able-bodied women, with the rest being the elderly and children. Freemen are entering our territory every day—sometimes dozens, other times as few as seven or eight. Rivermouth Village needs to be expanded again.”

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When Lilia finished speaking, Victor felt the eager gazes of the seven village group leaders. Excluding the alchemical humans in Brick Kiln Village and Hill Camp, the permanent population of Rivermouth Village had reached 3,125, far exceeding the scale of a typical village. By common logic, Rivermouth Village would either have to become Rivermouth Town, or new villages would need to be built to distribute the population. Either option would require Victor to appoint a town mayor or a village head, and for the village group leaders, it was time for a promotion. Victor did not immediately address this matter, instead motioning for Lilia to continue.

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“We have 7,450 mu of wheat fields and 23,000 mu of ground-potato fields, and the crops are growing very well. The first litter of piglets has been bred at the pig farm, and we now have 5,232 wild boars. The pig farm must be expanded, and fodder for the boars will be a major issue. Additionally, the fief’s cattle, sheep, and horses have also given birth to young. We currently have 245 cattle, 584 sheep, and 77 horses.”

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Victor nodded and turned his gaze to Linda, the magistrate. “Report on your situation,” he said.

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Linda stood up and said, “The security in the fief is reasonably good—”

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“You’ve already reported on security. That’s not what I’m asking about.” Victor interrupted her. “What have you found out about the freemen situation?”

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Linda paused for a moment before replying, “My lord, according to our investigation, most of the newly arrived freemen are from Baron Matthew’s fief. Recently, however, more and more people have been coming from other territories. Fortunately, they are all honest farmers, and there haven’t been any disturbances.”

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Victor felt a headache coming on. He needed more people, but a growth rate of four hundred a month was still alarming. At this rate, the fief’s population would approach ten thousand within a year. By then, not only would natural resources be depleted, but the Randell Fief’s delicate and fledgling systems of administration, benefit distribution, and security would all be challenged. No ruler wanted to see things spiral out of control, and Victor was no exception.

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“Narsen, can the outpost near Baron Matthew’s fief not control the influx of people? Or is Baron Matthew deliberately violating our agreement?”

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Narsen replied loudly, “My lord, the outpost is still operational. Recently, many people have been sneaking in from other places, poaching and gathering illegally within our territory. As per your instructions, we have taken in farmers with families and driven away the restless single men. However, our territory is simply too large. The guard detachment of just over a hundred men can’t possibly cover it all. My lord, I request an increase in manpower for the guard detachment.”

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“Will increasing the guard detachment’s manpower solve the problem?” Victor asked impassively.

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“These refugees are mostly disaster victims from the Briatte family’s lands. Because of that outpost, the refugees are bypassing Baron Matthew’s fief and entering the Randell Fief from the direction of Pine Forest Town. I plan to build an outpost near Pine Forest Town to prohibit freemen from entering and exiting at will. Even if it can’t completely control the flow of refugees, it should at least reduce the poaching and illegal gathering.” Narsen explained.

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Victor had a sudden realization. The Randell Fief only bordered Bryat’s fief in a small area in the northeast corner, which was near Baron Matthew’s land. Victor had an agreement with Baron Matthew: the Baron would use news of dire wolves to deter refugees, while Victor would build an outpost to take in the people Baron Matthew sent over. Through this cooperation, they achieved an orderly flow of population. The refugees from the Briatte family’s lands couldn’t pass through Baron Matthew’s fief, so to fill their stomachs, they had no choice but to move elsewhere. The Chapman family’s Pine Forest Town became the direction of their migration.

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Pine Forest Town was where Victor traded Mithril with Earl Chapman. To avoid unwanted attention, patrols in Pine Forest Town had been relaxed, and many outposts had been removed. Victor had also learned from Iron Hammer’s reports that the Briatte family had driven the mountain folk out of the forests, and as it happened, Pine Forest Town and Bryat’s fief were separated by just a few mountains. This gave the refugees a chance to infiltrate. The Chapman territory had numerous villages and a dense population; those villagers would come to blows with any refugees they caught poaching or gathering illegally. In contrast, the Randell Fief was vast and sparsely populated, with abundant flora and fauna, so the refugees would naturally flow into the Randell Fief from the direction of Pine Forest Town.

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Victor couldn’t possibly build an outpost or deploy Warhounds near Pine Forest Town. In his vision, Pine Forest Town was to become a gathering place for freemen merchants. Until the freemen merchant groups grew strong, the Chapman family would be the one taking the blame. In reality, the secret trade in Pine Forest Town was already benefiting both sides. Earl Chapman had used the high profits from Snow Sugar and coffee to pry open the warehouses of the southern lords. Grain, livestock, and all sorts of resources flowed continuously into the Chapman territory, and also into Victor’s hands. Otherwise, how could Victor’s cattle, sheep, and horses have increased so much? They certainly didn’t produce litters like wild boars.

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“The guard detachment can be expanded, but there’s no need to build the outpost. Even if we block the refugees coming from the direction of Pine Forest Town, they can still enter our territory from other places. After all, our border with the Chapman family’s lands is especially long,” Victor said to Narsen.

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Narsen nodded, accepting Victor’s decision, but Lilia interjected, “My lord, many of the newly arrived freemen say they only joined Rivermouth Village because they heard they could eat their fill here for free.”

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Bang!

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Victor slammed his hand heavily on the table. “We can’t have this communal pot anymore!” Everyone was stunned. Victor corrected himself, “What I mean is, the main mess hall must be closed!”

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“My lord, we should have done this long ago! Those freemen hired farmhands eat a lot but do little work. They spend all day thinking about their private plots. I suggest we take back the private plots too!” shouted Dean, a village group leader.

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Victor thought for a moment and said, “We cannot take back the private plots. These freemen hired farmhands are not homeless refugees. At their core, they are honest and simple farmers who fled their homes because of disasters. When the famines end, they’ll think about going back. The private plots can convince them to stay. I don’t want the Randell Fief to be filled with only lazy, gluttonous refugees!”

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“The main mess hall provides free food, and on top of that, we’ve been buying the vegetables produced on their private plots. That’s why the freemen hired farmhands are so keen on tending their own land and unwilling to work hard. This is a flaw inherent to the main mess hall system, and it must change! Starting tomorrow, we will pay the hired farmhands wages. The pay will be settled daily—the harder they work, the higher the pay. We will continue to purchase vegetables from the private plots as usual. Let the hired farmhands use Copper Sols to buy their food from the main mess hall.”

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Moline, a village group leader, asked cautiously, “My lord, what about us?”

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Members under the work point system only earned work points, not money, and the main mess hall with its free meals was established for them. Now that Victor was ending the free meals, the village group leaders were worried they wouldn’t have anything to eat in the future.

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“Isn’t there still the private mess hall?” Victor teased.

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The village group leaders all looked aghast. Eating at the private mess hall required work points and was quite expensive. If they had to eat there every day, they truly couldn’t afford it.

”

”

Victor smiled. “Back then, I came up with the work point system and the free main mess hall because I had no money. Now, the free meal system must end. You were the first to follow me, and you stayed by my side through the Ant-man plague without abandoning me. This loyalty will be rewarded. Therefore, the option to exchange work points for land is open only to you. The private mess hall will also remain open to you, and your private plots will be three times the size of the hired farmhands’! On top of that, members of the work point system will receive the same pay for the same work as the freemen hired farmhands. You will not only continue to earn work points, but you will also receive wages. Of course, if you find the food at the main mess hall unappetizing but can’t bear to spend on the private mess hall, I suggest you cook for yourselves. I will open several shops in Rivermouth Village to sell vegetables, meat, grain, salt, and other daily necessities. Members of the work point system can also open their own shops. If you lack the capital, you can use your work points to take out a loan of Gold Sols from me, and I will exempt you from taxes for one year. I will announce the specific details later.”

”

”

“Thank you, my lord!”

”

”

Tears welled up in the village group leaders’ eyes as they bowed to Victor one after another. Victor, too, was filled with mixed emotions. The work point system had helped him through the most difficult times and earned him a group of loyal subordinates. The end of the main mess hall marked the end of the work point system era. From now on, he would fully integrate into this world.

”

”

Victor’s encouragement for his villagers to open shops was not only to stimulate the fief’s economy but also to absorb more of the freemen labor force. However, these fledgling shops could only absorb a limited number of people. Faced with a rapidly growing population, other measures were necessary.

”

”

“Rivermouth Village is now overcrowded. It’s time to divert the population. Moline.”

”

”

Moline stood up excitedly, bowed, and said, “My lord, please give your orders.”

”

”

Victor said, “You are to recruit five hundred people in Rivermouth Village and build a new village. I will decide its location. You will serve as the village head. Make a list of all the supplies you’ll need.”

”

”

“Yes!”

”

”

“The pig farm is under a lot of pressure. Take five hundred young wild boars with you and have the villagers raise them. After one year, I will take half of the adult boars, and the rest will belong to those who raised them.”

”

”

“Huh?! This…”

”

”

Seeing Moline’s dumbfounded expression, Victor frowned. “Is there a problem? The villages after this one will all do the same! Otherwise, where will you get your fertilizer?”

”

”

“No problem at all! My lord, you are our generous and benevolent master!” Moline said, both frightened and grateful.

”

”

All the wild animals and plants in the fief were the lord’s property, so the wild boars in the pig farm naturally belonged to Victor. Victor was essentially giving the villagers 250 wild boars for free. Other than generosity and benevolence, Moline couldn’t think of any other reason. But in Victor’s eyes, having the villagers raise the boars was the method with the lowest cost, least risk, and greatest benefit. The logic behind it was something that not just a farmer like Moline, but even titled nobles, would find difficult to grasp.

”

”

“Narsen, construction must begin on your fief as well. However, you are my vassal lord, and your vassals are not my vassals, so it will be difficult for you to recruit people from Rivermouth Village. From now on, Rivermouth Village will temporarily stop accepting freemen. You will take in all future arrivals, but no more than eight hundred people. You can’t afford to support more, and neither can I. As your liege lord, I will support you without charge for two years. After two years, you must pay me tribute.”

”

”

“My lord, I don’t know how.”

”

”

Narsen looked helplessly at the village group leaders, seeking help, but they all avoided his gaze. Victor said with a sigh of resignation, “I’ll help you sort it out.”

”

”

“Oh.”

”

”

Narsen sat back down, grinning from ear to ear, while Linda glared at each of the village group leaders in turn, as if to say: With your meager abilities, you dare look down on my Narsen? I’m the one who should be looking down on you!

”

”

Lilia shot Linda a look, signaling her to tone it down, then said softly to Victor, “Victor, the freemen who poach and gather illegally keep coming. What should we do? If this continues, the fief’s hunting grounds will be ruined, and who knows when they’ll recover.”

”

”

Victor smiled faintly. “Those who come to work for a living, we will take them in. As for the poachers, treat them as thieves. They’ll serve two years of hard labor. Coincidentally, Nicole is short on people over there.”

”

”

Chapter 178: Sowing Quicksilver

The round table meeting ended, and Victor immediately summoned Barol, his spymaster. The infiltration of the mountain regions by Bryat’s fief and the endless stream of disaster victims were making Victor agitated.

“What’s the situation with the Briatte family now? Are they so hard-pressed that they need to plunder the mountain folk?”

“My lord, according to the intelligence sent back from Quicksilver, Wildwillow City is relatively calm and its supplies are abundant. The Briatte family has not yet reached the point of utter desperation,” Barol reported.

Victor nodded. “That makes more sense. The Briatte family has managed their fief for hundreds of years; a single Ant-man plague shouldn’t have impoverished them to the point of starvation. So, why are they plundering the mountain folk? And why are there so many disaster victims?”

Barol thought for a moment and said, “My lord, I believe the Briattes are using the Ant-man plague as an excuse to cast off a burden.”

“Bryat’s fief has a permanent population of over fifty thousand, and it’s constantly growing. Such a large population has become an unbearable burden for the Briatte family. The recent Ant-man plague caused a complete crop failure in Bryat’s fief and destroyed many villages, but there was almost no loss of life. The Briatte family is using the disaster as a pretext to deliberately withhold relief aid, creating an exodus of victims to reduce the population pressure on their fief. Their driving out the mountain folk is likely to clear the way for this outflow of people.”

Victor pondered for a moment before asking, “That’s plausible. But if they’re exporting their surplus population to their neighbors, won’t they be condemned by the surrounding lords? And by deliberately withholding aid to create disaster victims, how can the Church possibly tolerate such actions?”

“One can only say that the Briatte family’s timing was perfect!” Barol explained. “Viscount Briart died in battle, leaving behind his seven-year-old heir, Primo Briatte, and Lady Judy. By convention, a lord’s heir can only inherit their title upon reaching the age of twelve. Before that, other family members assist the Viscount’s wife in managing the fief’s affairs. But Viscount Briart’s younger brother, Lord Austin, is fiercely at odds with Lady Judy. They’re both shirking responsibility for the refugee problem, so the neighboring lords have no idea who to hold accountable and can only accept their misfortune.”

“The Church’s attitude is very ambiguous. Normally, the Church steps in to provide relief when a fief suffers a disaster. But the presiding Father in Bryat’s fief has done nothing, instead allowing the victims to stream out. I believe Lord Austin may have reached some kind of understanding with the Church!”

“So you’re saying Austin is the one orchestrating this exodus. What’s your evidence?” Victor asked with keen interest.

Barol said, “According to Quicksilver’s investigation, Viscount Briart had three Baron families and seventeen lordship families under him. These vassal lords can be divided into two factions: new and old. The new-faction families have Knights but no land, while the old-faction families have few Knights but large territories. Although Lord Austin is a direct blood-kin of the Briatte family, he possesses little land of his own. He is the leader of the new faction, while the three Baron families represent the old faction. After Viscount Briart’s death, the new faction supported Lord Austin to inherit the Viscount’s title, while the old faction supported Lady Judy. During the fight against the Ant-man plague, Austin was promoted to Silver Knight. He not only took command of Wildwillow City’s army but also earned immense prestige. Therefore, Austin has already gained de facto control of Bryat’s fief, and only he could be masterminding the exodus of disaster victims.”

“Indeed, Austin has the means to do this. But what’s his motive? To offload the family’s excess population, he’s willing to offend the Church? If he’s doing this purely for the family’s sake, he’s sacrificing himself to secure his nephew’s future!” Victor asked, perplexed.

The conflict between new and old was a problem common to all ancient families. The old faction occupied the land and resources, while the new faction wanted to acquire them. There were only two ways to resolve this: either expand outward or reshuffle power internally. With the lord dead and his heir weak and powerless, the new and old factions of the Briatte family could only resolve their conflict through infighting.

Austin was a direct blood-kin of the Briatte family and eligible to inherit the viscounty. As a Silver Knight with the support of the family’s new faction, he appeared to have the upper hand. But without the Church’s approval, inheriting the fief was nothing but a fantasy. Viscount Briart’s eldest son was the first in line for the title. From Victor’s perspective, using the disaster as an opportunity to offload population was something a lord would do, but Austin should have been using the family’s grain reserves to provide relief in the Church’s name. That would have been the way to gain the Church’s approval and inherit the viscounty.

“My lord, Quicksilver has observed several things. Austin received a royal invitation to attend the hunting festival. On his way back, he traveled with Viscount Walus, the Guard Captain of Grand Duke Williams. Three days later, Viscount Walus left Wildwillow City. Subsequently, Austin, under the pretext of repairing Wildwillow City, conscripted artisans from all his vassal lords. Carpenters, blacksmiths, and stonemasons from all over Bryat’s fief moved their entire families into Wildwillow City. Then, he requisitioned grain from the various lords, and that’s when the disaster victims began to appear. And the Church has made no comment on any of this.”

X-3 spun up to speed, and in a flash, Victor understood the reason for it all.

“An uncle and nephew fighting over a title… The Briatte family’s situation is so similar to the royal family’s. Austin didn’t attend the hunting festival at the Queen’s invitation, but at Grand Duke Williams’s.”

“Grand Duke Williams has an excellent relationship with the Church; he has the power to influence their attitude toward Austin.”

“From the Church’s perspective, the Briatte family’s disaster victims are merely moving from one parish to another. It doesn’t harm the Church’s fundamental interests, only impacting the performance record of the Father in Bryat’s fief. Besides, with Gambis suffering from the Ant-man plague, the Church is already under great pressure to provide relief. The exodus of people from Bryat’s fief probably comes as a relief to the local Father.”

“With the Grand Duke’s support, the Church’s approval, and the backing of the emerging faction, Austin believes his position as lord is secure. He’s starting to tackle the fief’s internal problems.”

“The Briatte family doesn’t just have conflicts among the upper nobility; there are also tensions among the commoners. With too many people, life is hard for everyone. Austin drives some away, and the commoners who remain will only support him more fervently. As the population under the vassal lords decreases, land will no longer seem so scarce, and Austin will then demand that the vassal lords cede territory to the newly established Knight families. Heh, except for Lady Judy, her son, and those who were driven out, everyone will accept Austin as the new Viscount Briart.”

“My lord is wise!”

After receiving the intelligence from Quicksilver, it had taken Barol a great deal of time to sort through the details. Yet, Victor had understood the crux of the matter almost instantly. This astuteness made the old spymaster wholeheartedly admire his lord’s abilities.

“My lord, what is Quicksilver’s next mission?”

Victor said, “Expand our influence. Infiltrate other fiefs.”

Barol was taken aback for a moment. “Shouldn’t we increase our infiltration efforts in Bryat’s fief?”

“How deep has Quicksilver’s infiltration gone?” Victor asked curiously.

“Monkey has blended into a small gang and become a minor chief. Fitch is running errands for a general store whose owner is a steward under the Wildwillow City Garrison Commander. Mia has become the mistress of a vassal lord. Spider is working in a tavern opened by that same lord. Red Wolf has become a thief-chief with a dozen or so petty thieves under him. The junior spies are with him.”

Victor frowned. “Aside from Red Wolf, who’s been developing a network of petty thieves and might be of some use, everyone else has infiltrated the circles of Bryat’s upper-class men. What were you thinking?”

Barol’s heart skipped a beat. He said in alarm, “My lord, I thought you wanted to interfere in the Briatte family’s affairs. That’s why Quicksilver has been penetrating their upper echelons.”

“Why would I want to meddle in the internal affairs of another family?” Victor said, exasperated. “I’m paying attention to the Briattes for only two reasons. First, I needed to know if their disaster was severe and if they could control the tide of refugees. I have no desire for Randell Fief to go through another freemen incident. Since Austin is gathering artisans and preventing a brain drain, it means the Briatte family hasn’t lost control of the refugee tide, and the number of people being driven out is limited. We no longer need to worry about this issue.”

“Second, before the freemen’s merchant association is fully formed, the mountains are an important trade route, and the mountain folk are a force we need to control. If the Briatte family was driving out the mountain folk to seize control of the mountains themselves, then I would have had to teach them a lesson. But I think your analysis is sound; they are clearing the way for the flow of disaster victims. After all, the cost for a lord to directly control the mountains is too high.”

“My lord, I understand,” Barol said quickly. “I’ll pull Quicksilver’s agents back, train more people, and begin infiltrating other fiefs.”

Victor thought for a moment, then asked, “Barol, Quicksilver’s main task is to provide intelligence support for the freemen’s caravan. The caravan will travel from west to east, from south to north, its footprints covering all the empires and kingdoms. How many people, how much funding, and how much time would Quicksilver need to accomplish that?”

Barol’s mouth hung open. It took him a long moment to reply. “My lord, I estimate we would need to train over a thousand spies, invest several million Gold Sols, and then… in another two hundred years, we could probably get it done.”

“Two hundred years?! What damn use is that!”

Cold sweat beaded on Barol’s forehead. He said, trembling, “My lord, it might take even longer, and I can’t say how much more money it would cost… I doubt even the Sasan Empire has a spy organization that large.”

“Too slow, and too expensive!” Victor paced back and forth with his hands clasped behind him. He stopped and said, “The freemen’s caravan could be plundered by a lord at any moment. Quicksilver doesn’t need to unearth any deep secrets; it just needs to monitor the lords’ activities. Let’s do this: we’ll open a tavern in every town. It’ll be a way to earn money and gather intelligence. That’s the plan!”

As he spoke, Victor’s expression grew animated. He had all sorts of recipes, and the Goat Tavern had lined its pockets before. Opening a chain of taverns was fast, profitable, and definitely a great idea.

“My lord,” Barol said, wiping away a bead of sweat, “taverns and inns opened by outsiders are prime targets for investigation. The slightest suspicion, and the lord will shut them down.”

“Ah… alright.” Victor composed himself and, after a long moment of thought, said, “Then we’ll develop two lines: an inner and an outer.”

“Two lines?”

“That’s right!” Victor explained. “Didn’t you say Monkey knows how to get by in gangs? And Red Wolf is training petty thieves? Quicksilver will be the inner line, and those thieves and ruffians will be the outer line. Have Quicksilver teach these people the arts of swindling, cheating, fighting, and brawling. Befriend them, let them develop on their own. We’ll sow these seeds in town after town. Someone is always willing to live that life, and some will inevitably rise to the top. When the freemen’s caravan passes through their territory, Quicksilver will follow along and reconnect with old friends. This outer line will become Quicksilver’s eyes and ears. They might even play a bigger role—for example, we can have the outer line distribute the caravan’s goods throughout the town under the guise of dealing in black goods. Once they get a taste of the profits, they’ll start protecting the caravan of their own accord. The outer line can develop freely. It won’t require much money or time, and if a lord cracks down on them, it’s no great loss. We’ll just sow more seeds. Once the lord himself is drawn into our network, the outer line will no longer be needed.”

“The inner line must be carefully cultivated as spies, but not in the traditional sense of infiltration, deep cover, collection, espionage, and reporting. Instead, they will operate in small teams, focusing on disguise, coordination, teaching, manipulation, intelligence analysis, and support. Barol, what do you think?”

Suppressing his excitement, Barol took a deep breath and said humbly, “My lord, it will be my honor to carry out your will!”

Chapter 179: Father Miller

It was the season of blooming mountain flowers, the weather warm and comfortable. The reservoir project was finally about to begin.

For a month, convoys from the York family had passed through the Randell Fief in a ceaseless stream, heading toward Nicole’s territory. These convoys, carrying all manner of supplies and herding flocks of cattle and sheep, consisted of anywhere from two or three hundred people to four or five hundred. The endless flow of traffic had trodden the roads to twice their original width. Once the number of able-bodied men who had passed through exceeded ten thousand, Victor set aside his own affairs and rushed to Nicole’s fief.

To accommodate the tens of thousands of able-bodied men, Nicole had led her people in building over twenty camps of various sizes. These camps were very simple, with no fences, only low shacks. Each camp was situated two hundred meters from the next, built along both sides of a mountain stream and stretching for two kilometers. When Victor stepped down from his carriage, he saw that the once-empty camps were now filled with people—mostly able-bodied men and women, but also some elderly and children. It was approaching noon, and some were mending their shacks, chopping firewood, and fetching water, while others were slaughtering sheep and cattle to prepare meals. Everything seemed to be in good order.

Victor breathed a sigh of relief.

Since becoming a lord, he had come to deeply understand what a headache it was to manage the daily needs of the populace. On the surface, these people had nothing to do with Victor, but in reality, Sylvia had already handed their administration over to him. He was the ultimate decision-maker here. Holding the position meant carrying its responsibilities. Victor was about to preside over a project of immense scale, and beyond the excitement, he was more worried that things would descend into chaos. For now, everything looked good.

Victor followed the mountain stream, walking toward the three green-brick villas that constituted the small manor he had built for Nicole. Along the way, commoners saw Victor’s hunting attire and his elite guards and knew he was a nobleman, so they all stepped aside and bowed to him. Before long, Nicole rode over with a group of people to greet him.

Nicole was dressed in a red woman’s hunting suit today, with calfskin boots on her feet. A snow-white cape was fastened to her shoulders with a sapphire pin, forming beautiful folds. A belt of water lizard skin was tied around her slender waist, making her look both heroic and dashing, yet also charmingly beautiful. She leaped from her warhorse and curtsied to Victor. “Good day, My Lord Viscount Victor.” As she spoke, she gave him a playful wink.

“Good day, My Lord Viscount Randell,” a male noble beside Nicole greeted Victor with a meticulous bow.

Victor smiled. “Sir Anthony, there’s no need for such ceremony.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Lord Anthony York was the Intendant of the York family, a Spire Scholar, and also Nicole’s half-brother. Anthony had once studied history and architecture under Master Edwin, and he was to design and supervise the construction of the sluice gate on the Goldwater River. As the Intendant of the York family, Anthony held a high and powerful position; he had no need to pay much mind to ordinary nobles, but Victor was different. Not only did Victor have Sylvia’s deep trust and affection, but he had also provided the extremely valuable rock brick technology. Although he was not a vassal lord of the York family, in the eyes of the family’s upper echelons, Victor’s influence over Sylvia was significant and could not be taken lightly.

Nicole and Anthony’s father had been nothing more than an ordinary lordship-holding noble waiting to die, with only six thousand mu of farmland, a single village, and a manor to his name. The family’s circumstances had only improved after Anthony became the family’s Intendant. At first, Anthony had been very displeased with his sister, a knight of low birth, getting involved with Victor. He would have preferred Nicole to marry a Great Knight from within the family; even being a Personal handmaiden was better than being Victor’s lover. But to Anthony’s surprise, Nicole had been granted an investiture as a fief-holding baron, possessing a hereditary fief of three thousand square kilometers, making her the highest-ranking person in their family. And all of this was because of Victor. Consequently, Anthony’s attitude toward Victor had done a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn. Accompanied by Nicole, he had visited Victor at the first opportunity, behaving with great humility and courtesy. With his de facto brother-in-law visiting, Victor was more than willing to be agreeable, and the two got along splendidly.

The three walked side by side, chatting as they went. Victor gestured to the busy people in the camp and asked, “Sir Anthony, it’s truly admirable how you’ve managed to keep so many people in such good order. How did you do it?”

Victor’s question seemed to puzzle Anthony. He thought for a moment and said, “I didn’t do anything.”

“Ah? You mean these able-bodied people are not being managed? They organized themselves?” Victor asked in surprise.

Victor glanced at Nicole, who pouted her rosy lips and spread her hands to show she knew nothing either. Anthony then called out to an attendant behind him, “Hals, come here.”

A middle-aged man stepped forward. He was tall, with a weathered face, a sheathed longsword at his waist, and refined iron scale armor on his body. His movements were swift and powerful, clearly an apprentice knight with no hope of advancement.

“Hals is my magistrate,” Nicole explained quietly to Victor, then turned to the middle-aged apprentice knight and asked, “Hals, answer Lord Randell’s question. Who is managing these commoners?”

“As you command, my lady,” Hals first bowed to Nicole, then turned to Victor and said, “My Lord Randell, each camp has people from The Stonemasons and The Cabbages. The Cabbages are responsible for food and logistics, and The Stonemasons are responsible for leading the commoners in their work.”

“Self-governance?!” Victor’s interest was piqued. He asked again, “Don’t your men get involved in the management? How is order maintained? How is the grain distributed?”

Hals replied, “My lord, I only have thirty soldiers under my command, far too few to manage them all. These commoners are relatively well-behaved; they can resolve most issues on their own. We only step in when a life is lost. As for grain distribution, you’ll have to ask the Baroness’s Steward.”

“Nicole, you have a Steward?” Victor asked her.

Nicole shot Victor a look and said, “I am a Baroness, after all. Of course I have a Steward. Don’t you have Lilia?”

“Hmm, interesting. I’ll have to meet your Steward later,” Victor said with a dry cough, feigning nonchalance.

As Victor approached the manor, he noticed that a large crowd had completely surrounded a small wooden hut. They were half-kneeling on the ground, fingers interlaced, in prayer.

“What are the Church’s people doing here? Weren’t the priests supposed to have gone to the entrance of the Great Marsh in the north?”

Victor frowned. Although he wasn’t hostile to the Radiant Church, he didn’t want it supervising the affairs of his territory. By custom, every town had a Church. Victor had deliberately chosen to build villages instead of a town precisely to prevent the Church from establishing a presence in the Randell Fief too early. With the reservoir project about to begin, the sudden appearance of Church personnel gave Victor a bad feeling.

“With tens of thousands of commoners gathered together, the Church was bound to send someone. It’s unavoidable. In fact, having the Church here to placate the populace is more beneficial for us,” Anthony said with a smile.

The Church spared no effort in defending the basic interests of the common people, but it would never incite them to rebel against their lord. If a lord was cruel and unjust, the Church would deal with him itself, and then it would comfort the people and urge them to obey the rule of the next lord. In truth, as long as a lord did not cross the lines set by the Radiant Code, the relationship between the clergy and the Titled nobles was quite good. It was actually a good thing to have the Church mediate, especially when the populace was performing corvée labor.

“When did this priest arrive? Will he veto our plans?” Victor asked in a low voice.

Anthony explained, “Father Miller arrived two days ago with a convoy of commoners. He had no attendants and no Sacred Warrior escort. If he hadn’t produced the Church’s official documents, we wouldn’t have even known he was the presiding priest here. The Church provided half the grain for the fortress at the entrance to the Great Marsh, but the construction of the sluice gate and the artificial lake is being funded solely by our York family. Therefore, the Church will not interfere.”

“That’s good,” Victor nodded, then asked curiously, “Why is this Father Miller all alone?”

“Who knows? By rights, with more than ten thousand people gathered here, the Church should not have sent a commoner priest to handle clerical affairs. I suspect the Church is short on manpower and supplies are tight, so they sent a commoner priest to fob us off,” Anthony said with a shrug, a hint of dissatisfaction in his voice.

“A commoner priest? Are there noble priests as well?”

“Of course there are priests of noble birth, but that’s not how the Church classifies them.” Anthony paused before continuing, “The Church has two kinds of priests. One kind originates from the monasteries, and the other is the commoner priest. Monastery-trained priests receive a good education. Besides divine arts, they also master a great deal of knowledge, so they are not just clergy but also scholars. Commoner priests are exceptionally devout believers who have been granted Divine Favor by the supreme Lord of Radiance, giving them the ability to perform divine arts. The Church then promotes these devout believers to priests. Although the Church has always proclaimed that all clergy are servants of the Lord, brothers and sisters without distinction of rank or status, monastery priests have classmates and tutors and are always able to secure all sorts of support. Thus, they are promoted very quickly. Commoner priests, on the other hand, are often sent to some remote place to preside over a small church alone, living a life of poverty.”

An idea stirred in Victor’s mind. “So you’re saying a commoner priest poses the least interference to a lord?”

“Indeed, a commoner priest lacks the power to interfere with a lord, yet no lord likes to have one. Although monastery priests are hard to fool, they know how to be flexible. When a fief encounters difficulties, a monastery priest can apply to the Church for Aid—perhaps grain and supplies, perhaps military support, or even confirmation of succession rights. But a commoner priest receives almost no support. Their applications are always shelved. That’s why I said the Church sent Father Miller to fob us off, afraid that we would make all sorts of requests for aid.”

Anthony said resentfully, “Fortunately, Father Miller has limited experience and won’t meddle in the project. Once the work is done, I will definitely request a monastery-trained priest to preside over the clerical affairs here for Nicole.”

Victor looked at the simple little church and said thoughtfully, “I think this Father Miller is quite good.”

Royal Capital of Gambis, Marquess Golan’s estate.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

The deep, powerful voice was not loud, yet Walus felt a heart-stopping tremor. He took a sip of pine nut tea to moisten his dry throat and said, “My lord, some time ago, Night Owl intercepted a vital piece of intelligence. Dodor’s Cunning Fox is plotting a conspiracy. They plan to assassinate Viscount Randell and frame Sir Soren, intending to provoke Her Highness Sylvia. So, we intensified our intelligence gathering on this matter. There are signs that the Dodorians intend to use Duke Erickson’s fief to buy off Her Highness Sylvia, thereby enveloping and annexing Gambis from both sides.”

“And? You plan to help the Dodorians complete this plan?” Marquess Golan asked coldly.

“Tutor, Sir Soren is a court noble, fiercely loyal to the royal family. If he can advance to Gold Knight, it would be more in line with the interests of our August family. The reason Sir Soren has been hesitant to take that step is that he always feels he is insufficiently prepared. If we help him reclaim his marquessate, not only will it help Sir Soren successfully advance, it will also ensure he accepts the cleansing of the Elemental Sea with a heart full of gratitude toward the Auguste family. Tutor, if Gambis could gain another loyal ‘Your Highness’, many of our problems would be solved.” Walus lowered his head, but his voice was exceptionally fervent.

“Soren’s talent is good, but just good. Never mind whether he has any chance of reaching the peak; even if he successfully advances, he would be far from a match for Sylvia. To offend a Spirit Knight for the sake of a Silver Knight, is your brain full of cow dung? Or does Williams believe the throne is more important than the future of Gambis?” Marquess Golan said, word by word.

Walus smiled bitterly. “We studied it carefully. Viscount Randell is not important to Her Highness Sylvia. If she truly doted on Viscount Randell, she would have kept him by her side instead of letting him manage a fief alone. According to our investigation, Her Highness Sylvia hasn’t even dispatched the family’s secret knights to protect Viscount Randell, merely issuing a statement of protection. We believe that the Randell Fief was prepared by Her Highness Sylvia to win over Marchioness Sophia. Therefore, we plan to assassinate Viscount Randell first, then reveal the Dodor Kingdom’s conspiracy to Her Highness Sylvia. Whether Sir Soren successfully advances or not, we suffer no loss.”

Golan looked at Walus with pity. Since Ryan’s death, Night Owl had been split in two. Walus, in charge of external intelligence, served Williams, while Margaretta, in charge of internal intelligence, answered to the Queen. But any action by Night Owl had to be reported to him. It was fortunate this was the case, or a great disaster might have occurred.

“I also believe that Viscount Randell is not important to Sylvia. If Night Owl can see that, don’t you think Dodor’s Cunning Fox can see it too? How do you know the Cunning Fox didn’t deliberately let you learn of this plan?”

Walus was aghast. “Tutor, are you saying—”

“Viscount Randell is inconsequential, but the dignity of a Gold Knight cannot be provoked. The Cunning Fox is luring you to act! Assassinating an insignificant Viscount is, in itself, a trivial plan that can be taken or left. For the Cunning Fox, a rift between Sylvia and us would be for the best. If we don’t turn on each other, the Dodor Kingdom suffers no loss. I think the Cunning Fox is pushing this plan mostly to placate that idiot Friedrich. And now, to placate you, you idiot!”

Walus was so ashamed he could have died. He stammered, “Then we’ll just tell Her Highness Sylvia about the Dodorians’ plan.”

Golan stroked the scar on his face and said, “Strengthen your surveillance on the Cunning Fox. Do nothing else!”

Chapter 180: Work is About to Begin

Victor sat in the main seat of the living room, with Nicole and Anthony on either side of him. The steward, Joffrey, stood below, waiting respectfully for Victor’s questions. As the steward of a fief-holding noble, he was obligated to defend his master’s dignity. Even a higher-ranking noble should not usurp the host’s place. For Victor to sit in the master’s seat was an extremely grave provocation. Yet neither Nicole, Anthony, nor Joffrey raised any objection, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. On one hand, this was a villa, not a castle, so it was an informal occasion. On the other, it showed that Anthony’s family already considered Victor the male master of the house.

Anthony was very pleased with Joffrey’s respectful attitude, or rather, he was very pleased with the current situation. After Nicole’s promotion to Knight, a ceaseless stream of suitors had come to ask for her hand, including the second son of Earl Teldrane. If Nicole had but nodded, she would have immediately become a Baroness. But no matter how her parents tried to persuade her, Nicole refused them all. Anthony found it perplexing and depressing that Nicole would forsake being a Baroness to be Victor’s mistress.

But things were different now. Nicole was devoted to Victor and had also become a lord in her own right—a situation that could not have been better for Anthony’s family. Anthony was well aware that the Moon Elf Bloodline was notoriously infertile. Even if Nicole and Victor had a child, it would go on to inherit Victor’s estate. Nicole’s fief, on the other hand, would most likely be inherited by the offspring of her mother’s family—perhaps even Anthony’s own descendants. Thus, Anthony’s family was more than happy to see Nicole and Victor continue down this path together.

Victor was completely oblivious to Anthony’s private thoughts. Right now, he just wanted to figure out how on earth to manage over ten thousand people.

“Steward Joffrey, what do the commoners primarily eat? How is the food supplied and distributed?”

“My lord, the commoners’ main diet consists of black bread, green wheat porridge, and a small amount of beans. They also get meat broth every few days. We’ve built several warehouses to store food, which is collected and distributed by the Chiefs. Every half-month, the family’s caravan delivers grain to be stored in the warehouses.”

Victor asked curiously, “What kind of grain is green wheat?”

Anthony explained, “Green wheat is a crop unique to the north. Its yield is three times that of ordinary wheat, and it can be harvested twice a year. The Sasan Empire has a massive surplus of grain precisely because of green wheat. The Sasan Empire also sells its green wheat to our three kingdoms, but due to our mutual hostility, the trade can only be conducted in secret. Your wife… um…” As he spoke, Nicole glanced over, and Anthony corrected himself. “Marchioness Sophia is the largest grain merchant. All this green wheat is sold to our York family by her caravan. They say it tastes quite good, but it isn’t cheap either. On the market, a pound of green wheat sells for four Copper Sols, and the price Marchioness Sophia gives us is still two Copper Sols per pound. We nobles generally don’t eat wheat porridge, and we rarely even eat bread, so it’s perfectly normal that you wouldn’t know about green wheat.”

Nobles primarily consumed meat, eggs, dairy, vegetables, and fruit, and almost never ate wheat-based foods. Some high-ranking nobles would place slices of white bread on their plates as liners, and after the meal, these bread slices would be given to the commoners. This was the sort of extravagant and ignorant life Victor had led at the Marquess’s estate. Anthony was explaining so gently out of fear of embarrassing him. But Victor had no time to focus on such details. He asked eagerly, “Can green wheat be grown here?”

“I’m afraid not.” Anthony shook his head. “For thousands of years, the Church and various lords have repeatedly tried to transplant green wheat. They’ve tried countless methods, and all of them have failed.”

“What a pity.” Victor was dejected and lost for a moment, but then he came to terms with it. If green wheat could be transplanted to the south, the human kingdoms would not be in their current state. He roused his spirits and asked again, “Steward Joffrey, how many commoners are there at present? How much grain do they consume each day?”

“Well…” Joffrey thought for a moment, then said awkwardly, “My lord, I’m afraid I really don’t know. I would have to ask the foremen and the chiefs.”

Victor frowned and asked, “And where are they?”

“My lord, Foreman Dennis and Chief Papo are waiting outside for your summons. Shall I call them in now?” Joffrey asked with a bow.

Victor gave a slight nod. Joffrey turned and went out, returning a moment later with two sturdy, middle-aged men. The two men wore brand-new coarse flax tunics, and their hair was still damp, clearly having just bathed. They bowed to Victor, Nicole, and Anthony in turn, then stood nervously to the side.

Victor asked them, “Can either of you tell me how many people there are in total? How many of them are able-bodied men? And how much food is consumed daily?”

The two men looked at each other. Foreman Dennis said with difficulty, “My lord, we don’t know either.”

“Ha! You don’t know? Then what do you know?” Victor asked with a cold smile.

Dennis braced himself and said, “My lord, the Stonemasons sent over five hundred people in total. I have thirty big foremen and over a hundred small foremen under me. I can’t possibly know every single one of them.” Victor turned his gaze to Chief Papo, who quickly said, “My lord, I have twenty-three chiefs under me, each leading ten or so people and responsible for one camp. As for the specific numbers, I’d have to go ask them. But there are definitely more than ten thousand people here. Many came with their entire families to make a living. Those who can’t do heavy labor do laundry or cook under the chiefs to earn a little money and get by.”

Victor then asked many more questions and gradually pieced together how this workforce of able-bodied men operated.

Anthony was the chief engineer of the project. After he and his dozen or so apprentices completed the designs, he handed the construction task over to Head Foreman Dennis. Dennis was a freeman on the surface, but he was actually the son of a vassal family. He had a wealth of construction experience and was even capable of supervising the building of a standard-issue castle. He would break down the construction plan and assign it to the big foremen below him, who would then assign tasks to the small foremen. The small foremen would then lead the able-bodied men in the actual construction, while Anthony’s apprentices and Head Foreman Dennis jointly supervised.

Papo was the Head Chief in charge of logistics. The chiefs under him led groups of people, hiring commoners to do laundry, cook, and clean. They would apply to Papo for grain, supplies, and wages each day, and Papo would in turn draw them from Steward Joffrey. As for how the wages were distributed, Papo stammered for a long time before finally explaining that wages were paid every ten days. Each camp received ten Gold Sols a month, and he didn’t concern himself with how the chiefs below him distributed it. The Stonemasons, on the other hand, were paid once a month. Each big foreman received forty Gold Sols, which they also distributed themselves.

“I need to know the total number of people. How many able-bodied men, elderly, and children are in each camp? How many people do the Stonemasons have? And how many do the Chiefs have? Go back, find out these things, and report them to the steward. Also, if you have any requests, you may state them now,” Victor said to the two leaders.

“My lord, we must get the men moving as soon as possible, or there will be trouble,” Head Foreman Dennis said honestly.

Papo’s eyes darted about. “My lord, I’d like to take some people to clear some wasteland and plant some vegetables,” he said.

“Understood. You are dismissed,” Victor said coolly.

After the two had left, Nicole asked with puzzlement, “Victor, why are you involving yourself in these matters? Can’t you just leave it to them? Or do you have another idea?”

“No! I don’t plan on changing anything. I’m doing this for the accounting,” Victor sighed.

“Accounting?”

“Isn’t that right? It’s all about the accounting,” Victor said with a smile. “I’m an amateur when it comes to construction, but this project is a rare opportunity. I want to figure out the costs involved and see where we can save some money. In the future, when the Randell Fief builds its man-made channel, I’ll know how many supplies and how much money to prepare. I’m not like your York family, with your abundant resources and deep pockets. I have to prepare in advance to avoid problems.”

Anthony interjected, “Our York family is also facing difficulties right now. We recently borrowed a large sum of money from Duke Nimes. We’ve already done our utmost for the construction of this sluice gate and reservoir.”

“That’s why we need to do the accounting.” Victor’s expression turned serious as he asked, “Sir Anthony, you should be aware of the man-made channel plan, correct?”

Anthony nodded. “Tutor Edwen told me about it. It’s a grand plan.”

“The plan may be grand, but it will cost a fortune. If we can’t be frugal and cut costs, I’m afraid the man-made channel will forever remain just a plan,” Victor said coldly. “Therefore, this project must not only be completed, but we must also see where costs can be cut. As I see it, there are two main costs: materials and wages. I would rather pay more in wages than waste materials. Black Fortress Town is nearly four hundred kilometers from here, making material transport costs quite high. If we can find a way to save on that, the overall cost can be reduced by a large margin.”

“This time, I don’t intend to let the chiefs and foremen skim off the top and muddle through. First, we get an accurate headcount to prevent taking pay for ghost employees. Second, we confirm the number of people in each camp and distribute supplies based on a fixed quota. The chiefs will no longer be able to request supplies at will. Also, the chiefs and foremen are talented individuals who deserve more benefits. However, those benefits must be given openly, in the form of currency. We’ll give every foreman and chief subsidies and bonuses. That way, we won’t have to worry about them not giving their all.”

“Heh, speaking of which, Chief Papo is a clever man. He knew I was going to strictly inspect the supplies, so he came up with a good idea in advance,” Victor said with a laugh. “The construction this time will take quite a while. If some of the needed supplies can be sourced from within the fief, the logistical pressure will be much lower. Nicole, your arable land may be scarce, but it’s more than enough for growing vegetables and raising pigs. Let the chiefs lead people to clear wasteland for vegetable gardens and cut grass to raise pigs. Then, you can sell the produce back to the family. Not only will this reduce material transport costs, but after the project is over, you’ll have gained farmland, a breeding farm, cottages, and funds. Perhaps you’ll even have a group of subjects to serve you.”

“Is that really alright?” Nicole said, feeling anxious. “I haven’t contributed anything. How can I receive so many benefits? Isn’t this harming the family’s interests?”

“No! No! No! This is great! This is excellent!” Anthony stood up and said excitedly, “Victor, Tutor Edwen said you are a true genius. Oh, my apologies, I used to be unconvinced, but now I firmly believe it!”

“Nicole, listen, you are the lord here. The produce of the fief belongs to you. It’s only right that the family pays you for it. Doing this will also greatly reduce the family’s cost of building the reservoir and the fortress! That’s right, including the fortress! These able-bodied men aren’t just here to build a reservoir; they’re here to build a fortress as well. They won’t be staying for two years, but for four. The more developed the infrastructure here and the more it produces, the happier the family will be! Once the reservoir is finished, those vegetable plots can be converted into farmland. The animal farms are also very important; wild boars are much easier to raise than cattle and sheep. Replacing cattle and sheep with wild boars could save a huge amount of money. Right, we have to build cottages too. In two years, more able-bodied men will arrive to build the fortress, and with cottages, we can house them. As for the ten thousand-plus people here, having built their own homes, they will most likely be willing to stay and become your subjects. In four years, you’ll have a source of soldiers for the fortress, and the logistics problem will be solved. A brilliant idea!”

Nicole stared, dumbfounded, at the excited Anthony, while Victor said, “Sir Anthony, we can discuss these details later. For now, I see the people to build the sluice gate, but where is the stone? And could you tell me about your construction plan?”

“Yes, my lord.” Anthony adjusted his collar, his elegant composure restored. “The stone for the fortress is being provided by the kingdom. We can divert a portion of it to build the sluice gate. The stone has already been delivered to the Chapman territory and can be transported over at any time. Before that, however, we must build a stone bridge.”

The Black River flowed from north to south, dividing Victor’s fief in two. The Chapman territory was to the east of the Black River, and Nicole’s fief was to the west. Although the river was relatively shallow, it was not crossable by ox-cart. Building a bridge and roads was a necessary task.

“The Black River is shallow, so a stone bridge won’t be difficult to build. However, we first need to build a camp on the east bank of the river to facilitate the reception of the stone. That is your fief. So…”

“No problem. Please continue.”

“Before the stone arrives, I plan to first build a giant brick kiln to process the clay excavated from the reservoir and channels. The fired green bricks will be used to pave the bottom of the man-made channel. We’ve already built five of these kilns before; it will take a month at most to build this one. My disciples can complete it independently. Then, I will lead people to build the sluice gate. A sluice gate is merely a special kind of city gate. Tutor Edwen has already drawn up a sketch; it’s very simple. I estimate it can be built in two months.” Anthony paused, then said tactfully, “My lord, the subsequent walls, channels, and reservoir present no difficulty. My disciples are fully capable of handling this work. I hope that once the sluice gate is completed, you will grant me permission to leave. You know, the opportunity to observe the construction of a giant fortress is rare, especially one of Tutor Edwen’s design.”

Victor smiled broadly. Anthony’s desire to go and learn about building a giant fortress was certainly one reason, but the bait Victor had thrown out was another reason for his wanting to step aside. In any case, the last bit of obstruction was gone. This immense force of manpower and resources had fallen completely into Victor’s hands.

“Sir Anthony, I completely agree!”

Chapter 181: A Thorny Situation

A hidden mountain fortress in the south-central mountains of the Gambis Kingdom.

Three fletched arrows arced gracefully through the air, landing squarely inside the tall watchtower. The heavy, sharp refined iron arrowheads pierced thick leather armor, pinning a mountain folk archer directly to the wooden floorboards. Excruciating pain and terror made the archer scream. Another archer crawled over, trying to snap the arrow shaft to free his companion, but after several failed attempts that only made his comrade scream louder, he realized the shaft was made of Hemlock wood. The hunter drew a small knife to whittle the shaft, but several more whistling greatbow arrows pinned the two of them together. Witnessing the gruesome fate of his two companions, the last archer could no longer suppress his fear and went tumbling down the watchtower stairs, yelling and screaming.

Iron Hammer saw a figure tumble out of the watchtower and grinned. “Time to go in?”

Kidd carefully observed the movements on the other side. This was a village built halfway up a mountain, giving it a commanding position that was easy to defend and hard to attack. Behind a ten-meter-high Iron-oak palisade stood four watchtowers, each manned by three to four hunters firing longbows at the mercenary company. The mountain folk hunters’ arrows could only travel just over a hundred meters, leaving the mercenaries two hundred meters away perfectly safe, while the yew greatbows in the hands of the Lithe Ape militiamen could cover every watchtower.

The three-fletched, bodkin-point arrows fired from the greatbows had a long range and devastating power, capable of piercing leather armor at three hundred meters. However, the arrows had a long flight time, making it difficult to hit a single moving target. In fact, anyone who could hit a target around two hundred meters away with a greatbow could be called a sharpshooter. It was only today that Kidd and Iron Hammer realized that these elite soldiers Victor had assigned them were sharpshooters among sharpshooters. Every arrow they loosed landed precisely inside the watchtowers over two hundred meters away. The narrow space inside the towers limited the mountain folk archers’ room to dodge. Refined iron arrowheads pierced the five-centimeter-thick Iron-oak planks, forcing those hiding behind them out into the open, only to be picked off one by one by the ensuing volleys. Now, the four watchtowers no longer posed a threat.

“Once Fermi and his men have the back gate blocked, we can go in.” Kidd paused, then turned and asked, “We’ve passed seven mountain villages, and this is the first one to fight us. Why are they unwilling to trade?”

Along the way, the Warhammer Mercenary Company had experienced what could be called smooth sailing. Aside from a few skirmishes with Gnolls, they hadn’t been in any major battles. Every mountain folk scout that came poking around was invariably captured by the Lithe Ape militiamen. When the merchants brought out salt, flax cloth, and arrowheads, the scouts would immediately lead the mercenary company to their villages to trade. Although most villages were reluctant to let the mercenaries enter, they all relented after watching Bull effortlessly snap a Hemlock log. The result, naturally, pleased everyone. The merchants traded their cheap goods for amber, honey, beeswax, medicinal herbs, beast hides, and horns. The mountain folk, in turn, found these merchants to be more reasonable than the village heads on the outside. Not only did they receive salt, military supplies, and raw sugar, but they also learned how to process ground-potatoes and prepare hemostatic potions. The relationship between the two sides was as sweet as honey. Many restless young mountain folk even asked to join the mercenary company, eager to venture out into the world. Kidd had assumed the rest of the mountain folk would be the same, right up until they encountered this fortress.

“In the mountains, when two wild bears meet, one either chases the other away, they both avoid each other, or they fight to determine a winner. It’s the same with the mountain folk. Those previous villagers saw how strong we were and knew they couldn’t bite us off, so they obediently traded with us. Besides, it’s the Season of Earth right now. The prey needs to fatten up before it can be hunted, so the mountain folk have no mountain goods to trade with the outside villages. This is their toughest time of year. Our goods are high quality and our trades are fair, so why wouldn’t they be happy?”

Iron Hammer continued, “This fortress is different. It’s the largest one we’ve encountered. Look, we’ve walked for five days without seeing a single smaller village nearby. That’s because they’ve swallowed them all up. Now, this entire mountain forest is their territory. They have plenty of people and resources, so they have no need to trade with us.”

“They think they’re strong enough that we should avoid each other like two bears. Heh, but we’re not bears. A village that won’t trade doesn’t need to exist. Just watch, this is going to be a bloody battle!”

Kidd saw a Lithe Ape militiaman in the distance make a hand signal and smiled. “Fermi’s group has the back gate blocked. Let’s go!”

Iron Hammer nodded and waved a hand behind him. Five Lithe Ape militiamen stepped out from the ranks and sprinted towards the fortress. They were incredibly fast, reaching the trench in a flash. With a single leap, they cleared the five-meter-wide trench and scrambled up the
tall Iron-oak palisade in just a few movements.

Seeing the enemy appear on the palisade, the mountain folk chief inside the fortress roared at his disorganized men.

“Archers! Shoot them down!”

The mountain folk hadn’t expected the enemy to scale the palisade so easily. Hearing their chief’s shout, they were still looking around in a daze for their targets when the Lithe Ape militiamen’s arrows rained down first. Four mountain folk armed with crossbows were struck in the head by arrows, killed instantly. Only then did the rest react, and a locust-like swarm of arrows shot towards the enemies on the palisade. The battle instantly became white-hot.

The two layers of the Iron-oak palisade were pressed tightly together, and the tops of the logs were sharpened. A normal person would have trouble even standing on them, but it was no challenge for the agile Lithe Ape militiamen. Their Perception, as high as fifteen, broke the limits of mortals. Combined with their mastery of the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form, they could twist and leap upon the top of the palisade, moving with fluid grace. While dodging arrows, the Lithe Ape militiamen continuously sent their own deadly shafts into their opponents’ vital spots. But the top of the palisade was narrow, after all, and the mountain folk hunters were numerous. Before long, every Lithe Ape militiaman had several arrows sticking out of them, yet they continued to fire as if they felt nothing. This bizarre scene made the mountain folk hunters’ scalps tingle.

The longbows made by the mountain folk were powerful enough to kill a wild ox, but the worn leather armor on the Lithe Ape militiamen was specially made. The Alchemical auxiliary soldiers had crafted the tough leather armor by sewing together three layers of cowhide, between which was sandwiched a special, soft vine armor. This soft vine armor was made from tough, fine mountain vines woven into a dense, tight mesh, which was then soaked in a concoction of herbal juices to make it even tougher and more elastic.

Victor had named this type of armor “Vine-hide armor.” It possessed strong resistance to piercing. A standard crossbow from fifty meters away could only penetrate the Vine-hide armor by three centimeters; blocking the mountain folk’s longbows was an even simpler matter.

The bull-strong mountain folk chief soon spotted the problem. His side’s arrows had little effect when they hit the enemy, whereas every arrow from those foes, more agile than wildcats, brought down one of his men. Even though the mountain folk wore a layer of chainmail over their leather armor, the enemy’s arrows seemed to have eyes, always finding their way into unprotected areas. Worst of all, even a hit to the limbs would leave a man on the ground, unable to move. In the space of a few dozen breaths, his side had lost over ten men, and the enemy was fast approaching the drawbridge ropes. The chief yelled in alarm, “Quick! Use the crossbows! And the javelins!”

The moment the words left his mouth, the chief noticed all the enemies had raised their bows and were aiming in his direction. Terrified, he grabbed a nearby mountain man and pulled him in front as a shield. After a few soft thwips, he saw two arrows sticking out of the back of his scapegoat’s head, red blood dripping from the arrowheads that had punched through the leather helmet. The mountain folk chief, having narrowly escaped death, had no time to feel relief. He held up his companion’s corpse and backed away as several shield-bearing mountain folk quickly surrounded him.

While the Vine-hide armor could withstand longbows, it couldn’t stop crossbows at fifty meters, nor could it block heavy javelins. A Crouching Ox Militiaman with a Physique of seventeen could take such hits, but the Lithe Ape militiamen only had a Physique of twelve. Thus, any mountain folk who tried to pick up a crossbow or grab a javelin was ruthlessly shot down, the arrows either piercing their brains or their throats. For a time, the mountain folk were sent screaming and wailing, suffering heavy casualties. Only a few who hid their faces behind shields managed to throw a few scattered, inaccurate javelins.

One Lithe Ape militiaman neared the vine rope that held up the drawbridge. He pulled out his shortsword of refined iron and swung three times. The faint blue light of the sword flashes blurred into one, each strike landing on the same spot. The tough vine rope snapped, and the heavy drawbridge immediately collapsed on one side, pulling the remaining rope taut. Seeing that the gate was about to be opened, the ferocity and courage of the mountain folk were ignited. They charged forward one after another, braving the deadly arrows, and roared as they hurled their javelins at that Lithe Ape militiaman. With a single handspring, the militiaman vaulted over the top of the gate like a nimble cat, slicing through the taut rope in the same motion. The drawbridge crashed to the ground with a thud.

Three Crouching Ox Militiamen charged across the drawbridge and smashed into the ranks of the mountain folk, their two-handed war hammers swinging without mercy. These two-hundred-pound weapons were forged from refined iron, 2.5 meters long, with forty-centimeter-diameter heads covered in vicious spikes. As the Crouching Ox Militiamen swung them, they let out a terrifying shriek, punctuated by the sound of cracking bones. Three mountain folk were sent flying like broken sacks, flesh flew everywhere, and blood rained down. The mountain folk broke.

A short while later, the three commanders stepped into the fortress. The mountain folk had been herded into an open space, the wounded carried to one side, the bodies piled in another. Iron Hammer took a deep breath of the blood-soaked air and asked Fermi, “Any dead or wounded on your end?”

“Two reckless fools died, one was injured,” Fermi said coolly.

Iron Hammer nodded, unfazed. Eight young mountain folk had joined the mercenary company. They had been with Fermi, tasked with blocking the rear gate. It should have been the easiest job, yet it resulted in two deaths and one injury. The mountain folk were skilled archers and fierce by nature, but their tactical discipline was abysmal. They couldn’t resist the urge to take a shot, forgetting that self-preservation was far more important than killing the enemy, and that their opponents were not wild beasts. Iron Hammer knew well that seizing any opportunity to shoot prey was a habit ingrained in the mountain folk since childhood. No amount of talking would help; only a bloody lesson could forge them into proper soldiers.

Kidd walked over holding a crossbow. “Seventeen of the mountain folk are dead, twenty-two wounded. Three of them died horribly, completely smashed! Haha, the rookies were puking while they cleaned up.”

“If not for those three getting smashed, more would have died! Bull and his men doing that, wasn’t that what the Chief taught them?” Iron Hammer glanced back at the new recruits and Lithe Ape militiamen clearing the battlefield and couldn’t help but add, “And this was us holding back.”

The Lithe Ape militiamen had killed far more enemies than the Crouching Ox Militiamen had, but the moment the Crouching Ox Militiamen struck, the mountain folk had immediately surrendered. A gruesome death could always shatter an enemy’s will to fight. Narsen did it often, and the War Bear Mercenaries were used to it. Fermi scratched his head, pointed at the wounded mountain folk, and asked, “What does the Mercenary Handbook say about this kind of situation?”

“I think it says the fewer deaths, the better, and we should save who we can. Something like that… Should we call Bull over and ask him?” Iron Hammer was a little unsure; he had basically forgotten most of the handbook’s rules.

When Bull arrived, he recited woodenly, “Mercenary Handbook, Rule Number Three: When encountering a village that refuses to trade, the goal is not slaughter. First, breach the fortress, kill the chief and his core followers, then force the rest to trade. Treat the wounded as much as possible, teach them the technique for growing ground-potatoes, but do not teach them potion formulas. Drive the mountain folk out, destroy the fortress, and mark the area red on the map.”

“Let’s do that! Clean this place up and call Weyrich and the others over,” Iron Hammer clapped his hands and ordered.

“Wait!” Kidd handed the crossbow he was holding to Iron Hammer. “Something’s not right.”

Iron Hammer took the crossbow, and his expression changed instantly. Fermi, meanwhile, walked over to the wounded, grabbed a mountain man who was still paralyzed, and carefully inspected the chainmail he wore. Then he checked the armor of the other wounded.

“Half-body chainmail over leather armor, standard-issue for elite soldiers. The insignia has been ground off. We might be in big trouble!” Fermi said, his expression grave.

Iron Hammer strode over to the captives and asked in an icy tone, “Who’s the chief?”

The mountain folk chief stood up, looking at Iron Hammer out of the corner of his eye. “I am!” he said contemptuously. “Which family’s apprentice knights are you? I’m one of Baron Murphy’s men. We refused to trade with you because this place belongs to Baron Murphy—”

Iron Hammer punched the chief in the stomach, causing him to double over like a shrimp. A heavy blow then landed on his head, sending him sprawling to the ground. Iron Hammer planted his foot on the chief’s head. Just as he was about to question him, Fermi and Kidd walked over.

“No more nonsense! There are still some mountain folk hunters out hunting. The longer we delay, the more danger we’re in! I only remember the first rule of the Mercenary Handbook. You haven’t forgotten it either, have you?” Fermi said chillingly.

Mercenary Handbook, Rule Number One: Self-preservation is the highest priority. The commander has final discretion!

Iron Hammer looked up at his two companions’ cold eyes. Their meaning was clear: they had run afoul of a lord. They had to silence everyone and run!

Over four hundred terrified mountain folk huddled together—men and women, old and young. Iron Hammer’s eyes flickered with uncertainty.

“Sir, give me a knife and let me kill Mull. I’m willing to tell you everything about him,” a tall young man said, standing up from among the captives.

“Why?”

“Mull led his men to annex our village, and he killed my father.”

“What’s your name?” Iron Hammer asked.

“Rogers.”

Chapter 182: The Encroaching Shadow

In the early morning, before the sun had risen, just as the distant sky began to whiten, Rogers was awakened by the clamor of Dawn Sparrows. The campfire had gone out, with faint wisps of blue smoke rising from the pale embers. Some people were still nestled asleep in their sheepskin blankets, while others were already gone. Rogers stretched and loosened his limbs, then carefully made his way through the people sleeping on the ground and walked straight to the stream. Along the way, he flashed an ingratiating smile at a companion on watch, who gave him a slight nod in return.

He scooped up a handful of cool stream water and washed his face with pleasure, then took a few satisfying gulps. As the water stilled, a young, tender face was reflected in it—his own.

Everything besides himself was unfamiliar to Rogers. Six days ago, he had joined this band of mercenaries, leaving the familiar mountain forests for the first time. The road was strange, his companions were strange, and the surrounding woods were strange, all of which excited the young mountain folk.

These companions called themselves the Warhammer Mercenary Company, and that Uncle Iron Hammer was the commander of this mercenary company. Now, Rogers was a Warhammer mercenary too. Although he didn’t know what a mercenary did, he stuck close to the group. He had understood since he was a child that a hunter separated from his group becomes the prey. Rogers noticed that the mercenaries almost never took mountain paths. During the day, they moved along the outer edge of the mountain forests, and at night, they would enter the mountains to make camp. Besides the adults like the commander, there were six other young mercenaries about his age in the company, but these boys and girls were not friendly to Rogers. Fortunately, there were seven men in the company who were willing to talk to him; they called themselves merchants.

These merchants had left a strange impression on Rogers. That day, they had been the last to enter the mountain fort. Seeing the bloodstains and corpses on the ground, they had shrieked and cried out like startled mountain apes, trembling and loudly invoking the name of the Lord of Radiance. Soon after, however, they had cheerfully taken out goods like salt and arrowheads to trade for amber, medicinal herbs, and animal hides with the people in the fort. Rogers was confused. The fort had been conquered; didn’t all the things and women in it belong to them? Why did they still need to trade?

Rogers had a special talent: he could sense danger and the emotions of others. He noticed that the merchants loved to count their amber whenever they had a free moment, and the more they counted, the happier they became. So, when the merchants were in their best mood, he posed his question. The one called the fat Weyrich generously told him that what merchants want is a good name and what they pursue is profit. Robbery not only ruins your reputation, but you can only do it once, whereas you can do business over and over again. Rogers was troubled; he didn’t understand at all, but he was willing to learn. His intuition told him that he had to grasp these principles to truly integrate into the mercenary company.

Iron Hammer was also troubled, because he was lost.

Six days ago, they had breached that mountain fort and figured out the whole story. The lord of the lands near the fort was Baron Murphy, a vassal lord of the Sorim family. As it happened, Marquess Sorim’s second son was particularly fond of hunting, but a lord could not hunt without restraint. To curry favor with the Sorim family, Baron Murphy attempted to control that mountain forest to use as a hunting ground for the Sorim’s second son. There were four villages and over five hundred mountain folk in the forest. Simply driving them out or slaughtering them wouldn’t solve the problem; without the mountain folk, monsters or other villagers would just move in to occupy the territory, and dispatching soldiers for a long-term garrison was unrealistic. Therefore, Baron Murphy propped up a puppet: the mountain folk chief, Mull. The Baron explicitly told Mull that this forest would become the hunting ground for Marquess Sorim’s second son. He would no longer permit the mountain folk to hunt or migrate. They would have to subsist on gathering, trading amber and herbs for daily necessities. At the same time, the Baron also planned to release ferocious beasts into the forest.

Mull had originally been a scoundrel among the mountain folk. After being driven out of his village, he had somehow managed to get in with the lord. He eagerly agreed to all of the Baron’s demands. Then, Mull led the lord’s troops to kill the chief who had exiled him and became the head of the fort. Next, he began to annex the other three mountain forts. When the mountain folk heard they could no longer hunt, their resistance was especially fierce. Nearly two hundred people were either killed or fled.

The rest of the story followed logically. Mull and his cronies were beaten to death by the mountain folk. The Warhammer Mercenary Company, executing the third rule of the Mercenary Handbook, traded supplies for some mountain goods, let the mountain folk find their own way out, and then destroyed the fort. Those survivors, whether they rebuilt the fort or sought refuge with other mountain folk, would spread the word of the Warhammer Mercenary Company’s strength and principles.

Trade with us and you’re a friend. Don’t, and you’re an enemy!

Having killed Mull with their own hands, the mountain folk had scattered. It was unlikely they would lead the lord’s knights to track the mercenary company. But to avoid unnecessary battles, the Warhammer Mercenary Company had still left the area quickly, only to discover they were on the wrong path.

Iron Hammer stood on high ground, his eyes sweeping over a vast, boundless forest. He looked down at the map in his hand—it was clearly supposed to be mountain woodlands. He cursed aloud, “They all say Barol is a smart man, but this expensive map he sold me is a fake! Where the hell is this?”

“The path we took earlier was already wrong. According to the map, the lord near that mountain fort isn’t some Baron Murphy at all. And now we can’t turn back. Who knows if that Baron is hunting for us?”

Fermi took the map and examined it carefully. Kidd gazed at the dense forest below and said, “A forest this large must be the Gloomy Forest of Gambis. The question now is, which corner of the Gloomy Forest are we in?”

The Gloomy Forest was the largest forest in the Kingdom of Gambia, covering twenty-two thousand square kilometers. It was deep and inscrutable, filled with monsters, and rarely tread upon by humans. It was said that a knight had once led a force of over a hundred men into the Gloomy Forest to survey its resources, but not a single one had made it out. Since then, the Gloomy Forest had become a forbidden zone for ordinary people. The mercenary company only knew that the forest below was likely the Gloomy Forest, but without knowing which part of it they were in and without a map, how to proceed had become a difficult problem.

The three of them conferred for a long time without any ideas. Iron Hammer said impatiently, “Forget it, let’s get breakfast first. We can ask those rookies later.”

Everyone in the camp was already up. They rolled up their sheepskin blankets and tied them, ready to set off at a moment’s notice. The freemen merchants directed the novice mercenaries to lay out the hides and herbs to be aired in the sunlight. Seeing their three leaders approach, a few quick-witted young mountain folk swiftly swept away the embers of the campfire and dug out many roasted ground-potatoes from the earth beneath. They had been buried under the fire the previous night. The ground-potatoes they took out now were still piping hot, their fragrant aroma whetting one’s appetite.

After a hasty breakfast, Iron Hammer called Rogers over.

“Big Fella, do you know which noble lord’s territory this is?”

Rogers was tall and strong, built like a grown man, but he was only a fifteen-year-old mountain boy, completely ignorant of the outside world. He had only recently even heard of a Baron Murphy. Rogers shook his head repeatedly. Iron Hammer sighed, and Kidd went to ask the fat Weyrich for information.

“Boss Weyrich, do you happen to know who Baron Murphy’s neighboring lord is?”

“How would I know? This is only my second long trip,” the fat Weyrich said, busy laying out red-vein grass without even lifting his head. Next to him, Daoqi, who was sunning takin hides, added, “Even now, I don’t know which lords’ lands we’ve passed through.”

“What a bunch of clueless dolts!” Fermi snorted in frustration.

After placing the last stalk of red-vein grass, Weyrich clapped his hands in satisfaction. He looked up and saw the three long-faced mercenary commanders, and his heart skipped a beat.

“Commander Iron Hammer, don’t tell me we’re lost?!”

Hearing this, several other merchants immediately gathered around. Iron Hammer had no choice but to tell them the situation.

“Right now, we can’t go back, and we can’t just cross into another lord’s territory. We have to find a remote place to circle around.”

Weyrich immediately grew anxious and cried out, “Go back? Why go back? Didn’t we agree to go to the Kingdom of Naville? We still have so many goods we haven’t traded, how can we go back? Commander Iron Hammer, listen to me. We’ve traded for a total of sixty-four top-grade amber pieces, each worth at least ten Gold Sols, and three yellow-patterned amber pieces that can sell for at least three hundred Gold Sols. We got these treasures for one hundred fifty pounds of salt and five thousand arrowheads, a cost that’s not even a fraction of the profit. I heard the amber in Naville is even better quality. We’ve come this far, how can we not go and see?”

“I didn’t say we’re going all the way back, but without a map and not knowing the way, how are we supposed to get to Naville?” Iron Hammer said sullenly.

“Then let’s find a town and ask someone, maybe even buy a map,” Daoqi had just finished speaking when another freeman merchant jumped up to object. “Carrying so many valuables, and we don’t have any connections here. Won’t we just get robbed? The lord himself wouldn’t stoop to such scummy tactics, but you can’t say the same for other people!”

Weyrich stepped forward and said, “We definitely have to make a trip to a town. We’re running low on salt, and we’re out of flax cloth. Some of the mountain goods need to be sold quickly. The mountain folk’s hides aren’t processed well, especially those takin hides. They’re very delicate. If we don’t sell them soon, they’ll rot on our hands. The animal horns take up a lot of space, they have to be sold too. And all that honey, if we drop it, it’s all gone!”

“Right! Right! Right! We have to find a town to offload our goods. These takin hides are for making armor lining for knights, so jejich quality is paramount. The price difference between a flawed hide and a perfect one can be tenfold! If we don’t find a tanner to process them soon, they’ll all be worthless!” a freeman merchant specializing in hides chimed in immediately.

“What if we get robbed? Won’t we lose our entire investment?!”

The merchants fell silent. Doing business in an unfamiliar place, being exploited by local powers was inevitable, but if they were targeted by gangs, they would truly lose both their goods and their lives.

“We are not entering the town!” Iron Hammer said with finality. “There are rules for mercenary companies entering towns and villages. We have to pay a fee per head, all our goods have to be inspected, and we can only lodge in designated areas. Otherwise, we’re treated as bandits. We’re all freemen with no backing. No one can guarantee anything.”

The merchants all looked dejected. Kidd, however, spoke up calmly, “The mercenary company won’t enter the town. We’ll camp in the wilderness. But we can send some men to accompany you inside, as long as they don’t wear armor or carry longbows and spears. You can leave the valuable goods with us for safekeeping while you go purchase supplies and sell your wares. We’ll be responsible for security outside the town; inside, you’re on your own. How about it?”

“That’s wonderful!” Weyrich said delightedly. As long as they greased a few palms, no one would dare to rob them openly in town. Although they would inevitably have their prices suppressed, at least their business with the mountain folk could continue.

“A word of advice for you,” Fermi said with a smile. “Go to the Church, say a prayer, and make a donation. The good Father will naturally see to it that nothing happens to you.”

“But where is the town?” Daoqi asked.

“Leave finding a town to us,” Iron Hammer said, glancing up at the Ash Falcon in the treetop.

As night fell, the mountain wind howled, and the twisted branches of the trees danced wildly. The shadows on the ground moved with them, flickering like ghostly silhouettes, making the gloomy valley seem exceptionally terrifying.

An owl, half as tall as a man, flapped its wings and landed on a short tree. by the dim moonlight, it surveyed its surroundings with glowing green eyes, as if searching for something.

“You’ve come.”

The shadow under the short tree rippled like water, swirled like mist, and finally settled into stillness. The great owl closed one eye, and the other grew brighter, staring intently at the shadow on the ground. A soft laugh came from within the shadow. “Don’t waste your efforts. My real body isn’t here.”

The great owl let out a long hoot, which gradually morphed into a raspy, unpleasant human voice. “Nether-soul, why did you summon me? Is there something that couldn’t be relayed by those mortals?”

“My subordinates have been watched too closely these days, so I had to come myself.” The shadow rippled, and the voice continued, “Rest assured, this place is deserted. No one knows two Wizards are meeting, especially since our real bodies aren’t even here.”

“If you have something to say, say it quickly. Using wizardry always carries risks.” The great owl swiveled its ears, monitoring all movement within a five-hundred-meter radius, ready to fly away at any moment.

“I want to make a deal with your Shadow Council. To deal with a minor noble,” Nether-soul said.

“Impossible! Using wizardry to kill a noble is bound to attract an investigation from the Church. The Pontiff’s Great Divination is no laughing matter!” the great owl refused outright.

“Two newcomers!”

“What?”

“Isn’t your Shadow Council always recruiting wizards? I’ve found two newly awakened ones. My people have already hidden them. Accept my terms, and they’re yours!” Nether-soul whispered.

“Tell me your plan in detail. If it’s feasible, we can consider it,” the great owl said.

“Heh heh, I knew you had ways to counter the Great Divination. In fact, this plan carries no risk for you. I would like to ask your Shadow Council’s Corruptor to influence the judgment of a noble lady, then have a Phantom deceive a Silver Knight, and finally, have the Soul-Shatterer assassinate a minor noble.” Nether-soul chuckled softly and continued, “A death by the Soul-Shatterer’s hand always appears natural and won’t attract the Church’s attention. The Corruptor’s ability is ethereal and untraceable. While he can’t influence a Knight, that lady is merely an apprentice knight. As for the Phantom, there’s no need to meet the Silver Knight face-to-face, just deceive his subordinates and have a letter delivered.”

The great owl fell silent for a moment before saying, “Soul-Shatterer is dead, and the Corruptor is in deep trouble. I’m afraid we can’t help you.”

“Are you brushing me off? Then our cooperation ends here!”

The shadow surged like an angry tide. Seeing his old friend angered, the great owl explained, “Soul-Shatterer’s ability was bizarre, but also dangerous, with a high chance of backlash. Over a year ago, Fire Crow, the guide for Soul-Shatterer and the Corruptor, heard a Whisper. I don’t know what madness possessed him, but hemistook the Whisperer for the King of Shadows, a figure we invented. He sent Soul-Shatterer to assassinate an elf-blooded noble, but something went wrong with Soul-Shatterer. Fire Crow didn’t give up. He sent the Corruptor to influence the eldest son of a major noble to continue hunting elf-blooded nobles. Worst of all, Fire Crow was discovered by a Paladin. Fortunately, he annihilated his own soul, which is the only reason the Shadow Council wasn’t exposed.”

Nether-soul was speechless for a long time. A very small number of Wizards could hear strange voices, the source of which Wizards called the Whisperer, and the Church called Devils. Wizards without a guide would be influenced by the Whisperer and do many outrageous things, which would then lead to their purification by the Church. Those Wizards who did have a guide were always warned to ignore any Whispers they heard, as the Whisperer would soon disappear. For Fire Crow, a guide of the Shadow Council himself, to be controlled by a Whisperer was truly idiotic.

“So Soul-Shatterer is dead. Fine. But what exactly did the Corruptor do? My plan absolutely requires him,” Nether-soul pressed, unwilling to give up.

“We suspect the Whisperer who influenced Fire Crow desired an elven Blood Sacrifice, and Fire Crow hunted elf-blooded nobles to please it. After Soul-Shatterer suffered the backlash, Fire Crow came up with a decent plan: Raymond, the eldest son of Duke Peter of the Kingdom of Borea. Peter also has Moon Elf blood, but Raymond is unwilling to remain a mere mortal. Fire Crow learned that Raymond was collecting the combat technique scrolls of the Sword Saint Draven. So, Fire Crow had the Corruptor influence Raymond’s steward and made Raymond believe that killing all the elf-blooded nobles would allow him to awaken the bloodline of Sword Saint Draven. We retrieved the Corruptor afterwards, but the campaign to assassinate elf-blooded nobles had already begun. To date, three nobles have been assassinated.”

“You’re being too cautious. Raymond Peter is the perfect scapegoat. Have the Corruptor make a move just once. He doesn’t need to influence the noble lady directly, just her trusted handmaiden. Help me, and you’ll get two new members. If I find any new wizards, I will continue to refer them to you,” Nether-soul said.

“Nether-soul, if you join our Shadow Council, your problem can be solved,” the great owl persuaded.

“You want all wizards to become nobles, but I am already a noble. Why should I join you? To sacrifice myself for other wizards? I’m not that noble! And I don’t think you can succeed. Isn’t this kind of cooperation good enough?” Nether-soul refused without a second thought.

“Although you are a noble, you can only hide in the shadows and do the bidding of greater nobles. Do you dare reveal your identity? The power of our Council President is beyond your imagination; he has even received the legacy of a Chosen. In the Council President’s eyes, the master of the Church is just a powerful Whisperer, and the clergy are merely wizards. Our Shadow Council, unlike the vengeance-seeking Pantheon, can coexist with the Church as long as we forsake listening to the Whispers. The beastmen to the north are stirring. Once the centaurs trample the Sasan Empire, the human kingdoms will need our power. We, the Chosen, will become nobles like the Knights, revered by mortals, not hiding in the shadows, afraid to even breathe too loudly,” the great owl said feverishly.

The branches swayed, but the shadow no longer flickered. Nether-soul said, “A grand ideal. I have been helping you, have I not? Now it’s your turn to help me. Only in this way can our cooperation continue.”

“Alright! Who is your target? I need to discuss it with the other members.” The great owl no longer tried to persuade Nether-soul to join their organization.

“Viscount Victor Wimbledon Randell. What a coincidence, he’s also an elf-blooded noble. You must act quickly. If he gets assassinated by Raymond’s men, my plan will be meaningless.”

Chapter 183: Conflict

The outskirts of Kasan Town gave way to the endless Gloomy Forest, the edge of the vast wilderness less than three kilometers from the town.

A winding stream flowed past the town, pooling into a lake on the downstream side. It provided the town with precious drinking water and irrigated large swaths of fields.

South of the lake stood a dozen or so logging camps, with great piles of thick logs stacked in the adjacent clearings. Lumberjacks felled the trees at the edge of the Gloomy Forest, which were then processed at the camps into lumber beams for easy transport.

The lumber business was Kasan Town’s main source of income. Every year at this season, many caravans would come to Kasan to transport lumber, bringing with them a variety of goods.

With the arrival of the caravans, Kasan Town gradually prospered. It grew from a camp to a village, and finally to a small town governing six villages. If one included the freemen who came looking for work and the ceaseless flow of caravans, Kasan Town’s population exceeded eight thousand.

With such a large population, the Church, of course, would not turn a blind eye, and a magnificent church stood in the center of town. The church was exquisite and solemn, the most beautiful sight in town and the pride of Kasan. In the past, the townspeople loved to gather in the church square during their leisure time to listen to the melodious tolling of the bells and greet one another, creating a scene of joyful harmony. Today, however, not a single townsperson could be seen in the square. Dozens of fully armed soldiers stood around the perimeter, and the atmosphere was exceptionally tense.

These soldiers were tall and strong with sharp gazes, equipped with short spears, round shields, and fine suits of chainmail. The sigil of the Schultz family was inscribed on their pauldrons. The residents of Kasan Town hid in corners, speculating which Knight’s personal guard these elite soldiers belonged to. But regardless of which lord had arrived, he was surely here for the bandits who had injured the magistrate.

The head priest of the church emerged from the treatment room. Kruser Schultz hurried over to greet him with a Knight’s salute.

“Father Hansen, how is Magistrate Gerry now?”

“Praise be to my Lord. The White crystals arrived just in time. Lord Gerry is out of danger and will recover after a few more days of rest,” Father Hansen said listlessly, somewhat fatigued after using healing divine arts three times in a row.

Kruser breathed a sigh of relief. When he heard that Kasan Town’s magistrate had been grievously injured by a band of bandits and that the priest urgently needed pure White crystals to save his strength, the lord, Baron Schultz, had ordered Kruser to ride to their aid overnight. Kruser had rushed all the way, finally managing to prevent Gerry from becoming a cripple.

“To the supreme Lord of Radiance, thank you for your protection and grace. And thank you, Father Hansen.”

Kruser turned to walk toward the treatment room, but Father Hansen said to him, “Knight Kruser, I have my reservations about the identity of that group. I do not believe they are bandits.” The priest thought for a moment, then continued, “At least, they couldn’t be considered bandits before they injured the magistrate.”

The priest’s words stirred something in Kruser, and he asked humbly, “Father, who do you think they are?”

“They claimed to be freemen merchants. I saw none of the ferocity or arrogance of bandits in them. On the contrary, they are all devout followers of my Lord, and they even brought several lost lambs back to the fold.”

“Lost lambs?”

“A few young mountain folk who lost their homes. They are all pitiful children with pure hearts. May my Lord protect them.”

The two pieces of amber tucked into the priest’s belt deepened the compassion in his voice. Kruser’s eye twitched slightly, and he said resignedly, “I’ll go in and get a better understanding of the situation first.”

Gerry, the magistrate of Kasan Town, lay on a bed as several church attendants unbound the splints and fine linen bandages from his body. Seeing Lord Kruser of the family’s knights enter, Gerry said gratefully, “My lord, thank you so much! If you hadn’t delivered the White crystals in time, I’m afraid I would have been crippled.”

“Don’t be so quick to thank me; this was all arranged by the Baron. If you don’t have a reasonable explanation, the lord will be very angry!”

Kruser’s tone was calm, but Gerry shivered and said hurriedly, “My lord, please let me explain.”

“Speak!” Kruser sat down in a chair and waved his hand. The attendants filed out.

Gerry organized his thoughts and began, “Five days ago, a group of people came to town. They were pushing a few small carts and claimed to be merchants. My lord, as you know, there are many caravans in town at this time of year, so we didn’t pay them any special attention. The guards inspected their goods, found nothing unusual, collected the tax, and let them in. These people first went to the church to pray and reportedly donated some money, which is standard practice for caravans, so there was nothing strange about it.

“The next day, they began selling their goods to the shops. The items were quite popular and quickly attracted attention, but these merchants paid all the necessary fees and gave the right tips, so no one gave them any trouble. Then, they purchased a large amount of salt, grain, and cloth, but no lumber. That’s what finally caught the attention of the lumber merchants.

“After the merchants’ guild investigated, they found that these traders had no caravan and no family sigils. They reported the situation to me, but I couldn’t just arrest them over something so minor. So I summoned the shop owners who had traded with them. These people were all evasive, and it took a long time to get them to show me what they had traded for. By then, the merchants had already left town. The goods were all rare treasures from the mountains—takin hides, beast horns, honey, as well as herbs and dried mushrooms.”

“There are no mountain forests near Kasan Town, so they couldn’t possibly be mountain folk. I remembered the official document from the lord, stating that the nearby Baron Murphy required us to investigate a band of bandits who had pillaged a mountain village in his fief. So, I led the cavalry to pursue them, but we were ambushed, and the bandits escaped into the Gloomy Forest.”

Kruser nodded noncommittally. Gerry’s story was a mix of truth and lies, riddled with holes. When the guards inspected the goods, even if they didn’t recognize them, they would have reported it to the town mayor. It was impossible for Gerry not to have known. Besides, how would those merchants dare to brush off the magistrate? Knowing Gerry, Kruser figured he and the town mayor had noticed this group of so-called “bandits” as soon as they entered town. Baron Murphy’s notice had mentioned that the bandits had stolen a great deal of precious amber, herbs, and takin hides, worth over a thousand Gold Sol. Regardless of how much Baron Murphy had exaggerated, it was true that these “bandits” were selling mountain goods. But Gerry and the town mayor hadn’t seen them sell any amber, so they decided to make a quiet windfall. That was why they hadn’t arrested them in town, but waited until the “bandits” left before trying to kill them and seize their goods. They never expected to have bitten off more than they could chew. Three soldiers dead, nine seriously wounded, and fifteen with minor injuries, seven of whom were left with crippled arms. Gerry, an apprentice knight, had four ribs and his spine broken, nearly turning him into a cripple.

Seeing Magistrate Gerry grievously wounded by “bandits,” the Kasan town mayor was scared witless. He used requesting reinforcements as an excuse to hide in the Baron’s castle, telling the same story as Gerry. When Baron Schultz learned of this, he flew into a rage, cursing the two good-for-nothings. If they had organized the arrest within the town, the losses would never have been so great. Angry as he was, the Baron couldn’t just watch his wife’s nephew become a cripple. He had no choice but to spend two thousand Gold Sol to buy four White crystals from the fief’s head priest and send them over, assigning Kruser to handle the aftermath.

Although Gerry was greedy, he was a genuine apprentice knight with masterful combat skills. The person who had defeated him so easily was most likely a Knight. These people had hidden in the Gloomy Forest and could raid the family’s logging camps at any time. This was Baron Schultz’s greatest worry. Kruser was now desperate to know the details. It would be best if he could find out which family’s Knight it was. Was this premeditated? And what was their purpose?

“Tell me about the ambush. And don’t even think about misleading me! This is important, do you understand?”

“Yes, yes.” Gerry tried to recall for a moment, then spoke slowly, “I was leading thirty cavalrymen when we caught up to them at the edge of the forest. I ordered them to stop for inspection, but these bandits just ran faster. One of my cavalrymen was the first to fire an arrow, hitting the fattest one among them. The next moment, that same cavalryman was shot dead, an arrow straight through his face. Then, arrows rained down from the forest. All our warhorses were hit, and two cavalrymen were crushed to death on the spot. I was just about to organize the soldiers to return fire with their bows when my men started getting hit, all in their unarmored arms and legs.

“It all happened too fast. Before I could think, I charged forward, wanting to stop those fleeing bandits. A particularly tall and burly bandit rushed out from the woods, blocked my path with a heavy hammer, and we started fighting. That bandit was incredibly strong, the most powerful enemy I have ever faced, and his fighting style was very skilled. I was no match for him at all. After a few exchanges, he smashed my shield but didn’t kill me. He just punched me in the back. I passed out right then. When I woke up, I was already lying in the church.

“Only later did I learn that the punch had broken my spine and four ribs. The bandits didn’t hunt down my soldiers; they slipped into the Gloomy Forest instead. Father Hansen healed my internal injuries but couldn’t fix my spine. He needed pure White crystals to restore me. The town didn’t have such high-grade White crystals, so the town mayor went to the lord to ask for help. You know what happened after that, my lord.”

Kruser stroked the beard on his chin and asked, “Was the man who injured you a Knight?”

“No! His build wasn’t coordinated like a Knight’s, his movements weren’t smooth, and his speed was average. But his strength was terrifying, not much less than a Knight’s. He was also fierce and brave. He never defended himself, just fought with a reckless, all-or-nothing style that left me unable to cope. I think he must be a Ferocious warrior!” Gerry said with certainty.

Kruser believed Gerry’s judgment; he wouldn’t dare to lie about this.

“Did the archers hiding in the forest use crossbows?”

“They were all ordinary longbows. Their arrows couldn’t even pierce my scale armor. They were just shockingly accurate, rarely missed, and didn’t aim for vital spots.”

Kruser asked a few more detailed questions. He pieced together the details—freemen merchants, mountain folk youth, a Ferocious warrior, sharpshooters, their weapons, and their avoidance of killing soldiers—and an idea gradually formed in his mind. Although the Schultz fief had no mountain forests, Kruser had heard that the mountain folk were expert hunters and archers. He had also heard that Bryat’s fief had expelled some mountain folk recently. These bandits were likely those homeless mountain folk. They had tried to occupy a mountain village in Baron Murphy’s fief but were wanted by him, forcing them to drift to Kasan Town to trade for some supplies, which led to the conflict with Gerry. The only oddity was why the tough mountain folk would be mixed up with freemen merchants. But this detail was insignificant. As long as they didn’t dare to kill, their threat to Kasan Town was much smaller.

Kruser sighed in relief, yet was also a little disappointed. From the beginning, Baron Schultz had judged that these people were unlikely to be a rival family’s caravan because the mountain goods they sold were scarce in his fief and the prices were low. Baron Schultz had actually been hoping they were here to do business in mountain goods.

The Schultz fief sold specialties from the Gloomy Forest and also purchased specialty herbs from mountain regions. Every year, Baron Schultz had to pay a large sum to Baron Murphy to buy certain herbs to make healing potions. Although those herbs were not particularly rare, Baron Murphy was only willing to sell a small amount at an especially high price. Of course, Baron Schultz did the same thing; no one would sell their fief’s specialty products on the cheap. But no matter what, an extra trade route would have been a good thing. At the very least, their reserves of healing potions would have increased.

Since these people were exiled mountain folk, they wouldn’t have the ability to maintain continuous trade. However, these mountain folk were formidable, and among them was a powerful Ferocious warrior. If he could recruit them, this loss would be nothing. Although they were now hiding in the Gloomy Forest, they would have to come out eventually when their supplies ran out.

With this in mind, Kruser made his decision. “I will report the situation in Kasan Town to the neighboring lords and request that they blockade the edge of the Gloomy Forest to prevent the bandits from raiding villages. I will remain stationed in Kasan Town for three months. As for you, once you’ve recovered, go and report to the lord yourself!”

“Yes!” Gerry’s face turned pale. He knew his good days were over.

————————————————————————

Deep within the Gloomy Forest, the dense canopy blocked out the sunlight. Only bright specks of light on the ground indicated to Iron Hammer that it was now noon.

More than ten days ago, the freemen merchants had indeed been targeted for plunder by the lord’s men. Though the lord himself might not have known, Lord Victor had said that the blame could only be laid at the lord’s feet! After routing the lord’s cavalry, the Warhammer Mercenary Company had retreated into the Gloomy Forest with the freemen merchants. Apart from Weyrich taking an arrow to the buttocks, no one else was injured. Fermi, the vice-commander who had led the group into town, told Iron Hammer that Baron Murphy had issued a warrant for their arrest to the surrounding lords. The three commanders carefully studied the new map and, after consulting Bull on many questions, decided to cut diagonally through the sea of trees to reach the other side of the Gloomy Forest, thereby avoiding Baron Murphy’s sphere of influence.

The terrifying thing about the sea of trees was how easy it was to lose one’s way, but that was no problem for the Warhammer Mercenary Company. Ash Falcon could fly above the canopy and point them in the right direction. Iron Hammer was more worried about sneak attacks from monsters and beasts, but Bull had told him that such a thing was impossible. Everyone was skeptical, but after traveling through the sea of trees for over ten days, they truly hadn’t been ambushed by any beasts or monsters. Everyone’s mood grew more and more relaxed, the party’s formation became looser, and their pace quickened considerably. Little did Iron Hammer and the others know that six Warhounds were guarding the group’s perimeter. No threatening beast could possibly break through their defensive line. Even powerful monsters couldn’t escape the Warhounds’ Perception. Guided by their alerts, the Alchemical militia at the front of the column would lead the group to steer clear of them from a great distance.

Of course, the Gloomy Forest was not without its dangers. Some naturally ferocious beasts would not give up on their prey so easily. For instance, a Ferocious Nightblade Panther had tailed the mercenary company relentlessly, and even the Warhounds couldn’t drive it away. Thus, its hide and sinews became the mercenary company’s spoils of war. Everyone thought the rest of the journey would be just as easy, but then the mercenary company ran into a Goblin tribe.

Goblins were one of the weakest monsters, but a Goblin tribe was definitely one of the most terrifying monster clans. Every Goblin tribe was bound to have Hobgoblins and Bugbears. The Hobgoblin was one of the most intelligent monsters, its intellect no less than a human’s. With Hobgoblins, a Goblin tribe’s organization, production capacity, and combat effectiveness increased exponentially. A Hobgoblin could even use deception and trickery to make low-level Ogres serve it, while the Bugbear was the Hobgoblin’s loyal enforcer.

Bugbears were three times the size of a normal goblin, standing no more than 1.6 meters tall. Though they weren’t as tall as humans, they were standard Ferocious creatures. Compared to other Ferocious creatures, a Bugbear’s strength was not overwhelming, but its body was extremely tough, and while not fast, its stamina was second to none. Bugbears had extremely low intelligence, even less than an ordinary Ogre’s. The Silver Spire had once dissected a Bugbear’s corpse and discovered its skull was a full three centimeters thick, with a pitifully small brain only the size of a ground lizard’s egg. Such a small brain naturally couldn’t hold much information. Bugbears had no sense of pain and knew no fear. They only did four things in their entire lives: eat, sleep, mate, and attack whomever the Hobgoblins told them to. Painless, fearless, and single-minded, once Bugbears gathered in numbers, even Knights would give them a wide berth.

The Goblin tribe before them was not large: just over five hundred ordinary Goblins, two Hobgoblins, and twelve Bugbears. The Hobgoblin chief had no Ogre bodyguards but had enslaved a number of Kobold miners. As a result, the total number of monsters in this clan exceeded eight hundred, and they were even equipped with crude iron weapons.

In truth, the Alchemical militia could have led the company around this Goblin tribe ahead of time, but Victor had once given his alchemical creatures a secondary mission: under the premise that it did not endanger their safety, they were to scout for and mark ruins of the Alchemical Empire. And the alchemical crow had found its target within the Goblin tribe.

Chapter 184: Two Questions

A clearing in the sea of trees was like an oasis in a desert. Warm sunlight shone directly on the forest floor, allowing many low-growing plants to flourish. The bright sun and clear stream wove together the wild grass, shrubs, colorful flowers, and dancing butterflies, making this glade seem like a wonderland and attracting many small beasts to play and forage.

The members of the Warhammer Mercenary Company stood in the clearing, basking in the long-missed sunlight. They had trekked through the damp, gloomy sea of trees for more than ten days; they felt like mushrooms were about to sprout from their skin.

Iron Hammer looked up at the clouds in the sky, a feeling of unreality washing over him.

This clearing was not natural, but the masterpiece of a goblin tribe. The goblins and kobolds had felled the trees around the stream, dug out the roots, and then moved the timber to a shaded area to let it slowly rot. The worms and termites that bred in the rotting wood were snacks for the goblin tribe, while the clearing became a trap for them to hunt small animals.

In addition to this clearing, the goblins had also built a sizable camp, complete with pits for living, a crude iron workshop, a mushroom farm, storerooms, and traps and snares bristling with spikes. The goblin camp could be said to be fully equipped for production, life, and defense. After seeing it, Iron Hammer and the others had a new understanding of goblins as creatures.

However, in just three days, this goblin tribe was finished. The simplicity of the process was unbelievable.

Iron Hammer believed that with the strength of the Warhammer Mercenary Company, defeating this goblin tribe was not impossible, but there would certainly have been casualties. He and the others had asked for Bull’s opinion, but Bull told them that he had a way to make the goblin tribe kill each other, though it required some preparation.

The Warhammer Mercenary Company had halted on the outskirts of the goblin tribe’s territory. Five elite soldiers left the group, returning two days later with a large quantity of herbs. It took another day for Bull to lead some men in using these herbs, along with honey and raw sugar, to create many fist-sized medicinal balls.

That night, several Lithe Ape militiamen hid in the darkness, using specially made slings to launch the balls into the goblin camp. The sudden, unknown attack startled the goblins. The Hobgoblin chief sent out many goblins and kobolds to search for the hidden enemy, but they found nothing. The goblins soon discovered that the “weapons” thrown at them were delicious food. They scrambled to snatch them up, and by the time the Hobgoblin chief reacted, many of the “weapons” were already in the stomachs of the common goblins and kobolds. The Hobgoblin chief collected the remaining “weapons” but did not eat them.

The next day, the goblin chief discovered that the goblins who had eaten the “weapons” were perfectly fine. He finally ate the delicious “weapons” with confidence, even sharing a significant portion with the Bugbears. After eating this delicacy, the Bugbears soon fell into a frenzy. The maddened Bugbears wildly attacked any moving thing around them. They first killed the Hobgoblin chief, then fought amongst themselves. The common goblins and kobold miners scattered in a panic, quickly disappearing without a trace. By the time the Alchemical militia had killed the heavily wounded Bugbears one by one, there wasn’t a living goblin to be seen in the camp.

Finally, Iron Hammer led his team to rest in the clearing the goblins had made, while the Alchemical militia went to clean up the goblin camp and search for spoils. Even now, Iron Hammer was still somewhat bewildered.

“Iron Hammer, unbelievable! Truly unbelievable! To think the goblins had such good stuff.”

Fermi ran over excitedly and secretly handed Iron Hammer a whitish crystal.

“White crystals! How many?” Iron Hammer pressed in a low voice.

Priests often used White Crystals when performing healing divine arts. No one knew the principle behind it, but White Crystals were undoubtedly an important strategic resource. If a White Crystal mine was discovered in a fief, the Church would pay the lord a mining fee of one Silver Sol per crystal. Nearly all White Crystal mines in the human kingdoms were controlled by the Church.

The Church had clear regulations that healing divine arts could only be used on armies fighting monsters and on Sacred Warriors. Whether commoner or noble, anyone wishing to receive divine healing had to provide the clergy with White Crystals. The Church also sold White Crystals to outsiders at a price of four hundred Gold Sols each. Therefore, the price of a White Crystal was four hundred Gold Sols.

“Thirteen of them, inlaid on two chairs—maybe they were thrones? Who knows, they looked incredibly ugly anyway.” Fermi smacked his lips and continued, “There are also a lot of iron ingots, if you can call them that. They’re all sorts of shapes. A pity there are too many; we can’t carry them all away.”

Iron Hammer didn’t hear Fermi’s last words. He was still calculating how much thirteen White Crystals were worth. After a long time, he still couldn’t come up with an answer, but another question came to mind.

“Is there a White Crystal mine here?”

Fermi nodded. “The kobolds dug two large mining pits. Kidd is leading some men to survey them. Bull and I took some of the spoils for Weyrich and the others to identify.”

The merchants crowded around the captured spoils, picking and choosing, sometimes exclaiming in surprise or sighing, sometimes shaking their heads in disdain. These materials were either worthless or had been ruined by the goblins.

The fat Weyrich spotted a tuberous root covered in mud. His eyes lit up, and he quickly snatched it over. After a moment of careful inspection, he cried out, “Feltorin Sunflower Root!”

“Let me see! Let me see!”

“Don’t push! Don’t push! Let me have a look first.”

“Hmph, you look? Do you even know what you’re looking at? Boss Weyrich, identify it for me!”

A freeman merchant who specialized in the herb business extended a hand toward the fat Weyrich, but Weyrich clutched the mud-caked root tightly to his chest. Iron Hammer pushed through the crowd and asked, “What’s going on?”

“This is a Feltorin Sunflower Root! I saw one when I was a child, I can’t be mistaken!” Weyrich shouted.

Iron Hammer snatched the unremarkable root, weighed it in his hand, and asked, “What is this thing used for? Is it very valuable?”

“I’ve heard that sunflower roots are a specialty of the Twilight Forest. I didn’t expect to find them in the Gloomy Forest too. Sunflower roots are for the noble lords. I don’t know what they’re truly used for, only that the lords will pay a high price to acquire them. In the Eastern Province, the purchase price for sunflower roots is three Gold Sols per ounce! This piece is about twenty ounces, worth sixty Gold Sols.” After explaining, Weyrich asked urgently, “How many sunflower roots did you find?”

Fermi scratched the back of his head and said, “There’s a big pile, but we didn’t count them.”

“That arrow wasn’t in vain, then. It was worth it, it was worth it.”

Weyrich muttered to himself, while the merchant Daoqi shouted, “There must be more nearby! We should stay here and dig up all the sunflower roots before we leave!”

Iron Hammer and Fermi were greatly tempted, but as valuable as the sunflower roots were, they couldn’t compare to the White Crystals. Since there were White Crystals in the goblin camp, there must be a White Crystal mine nearby. If they could dig up some more, that would be for the best. Iron Hammer pulled Bull aside and asked quietly, “Bull, if we stay here, will there be danger?”

“Yes!”

“What kind of danger?”

“It won’t be long before the goblins return, and their numbers will be too great. We won’t be able to protect everyone,” Bull answered honestly.

Iron Hammer instantly grew tense and hurriedly asked, “Weren’t the Hobgoblins and Bugbears all taken care of? Are there other goblin tribes nearby?”

Bull replied, “The Hobgoblins and Bugbears were killed, but the goblin tribe hasn’t been wiped out. New Hobgoblins and Bugbears will soon emerge from among the common goblins.”

“Why?” Iron Hammer asked curiously.

“As long as common goblins have ample food and constantly think, they will evolve into Hobgoblins. A Hobgoblin will then gather a group of strong goblins to serve as bodyguards. These bodyguard goblins have ample food, have no need to think, and only need to fight. They will quickly transform into Bugbears.”

Iron Hammer was stunned for a moment before saying, “So that’s where Hobgoblins and Bugbears come from.” He then asked, unwilling to give up, “Can’t we use that method again and make the new Bugbears go mad?”

“No. Goblins are clever. This tribe’s goblins won’t be fooled again,” Bull said, shaking his head.

Iron Hammer shook his head with regret. “I understand. Once the brothers surveying the mine return, we’ll set out.”

What Iron Hammer didn’t know was that for the Alchemical militia, neither the sunflower roots nor the White Crystals were important. Victor’s mission was what mattered most. Deep in the dense forest, three Alchemical militiamen were burying a piece of metal deep underground. The metal fragment was black and inscribed with runes—a shard from some greatsword. The goblin chief had dug up this fragment from who-knows-where and attached it to a wooden stick to serve as a spearhead, a decision that ultimately led to his doom.

After burying the fragment, the Alchemical militiamen took out a letter written on fine linen and wrote in Chinese characters: Northwest corner of Gloomy Forest, thirteen kilometers in, discovered fragment of Empire Category 1 standard-issue weapon, Saloner Steel one-handed rune greatsword. Then, the Alchemical militiamen wrote down an account of what had happened.

The letter was tied to the neck of an alchemical crow. The alchemical crow flapped its wings, circled once in the air, and then flew straight in the direction of the Alchemy Tower.

——————————————————

Lilia walked gracefully along the wide, clean roads of Rivermouth Village, followed by several guards and maids. Wherever she went, the villagers bowed to her one after another. Lilia merely swept her gaze over them. Who would have thought that this beautiful and elegant lady was, just a year ago, a lively and pretty mercenary girl?

Looking at the neat, beautiful houses of Rivermouth Village and the genuine smiles on the villagers’ faces, Lilia felt a little dazed.

Before she knew it, it was already the second month of the Season of Fire. The wheat shoots in the fields were growing vigorously, and the ground-potato vines had formed a lush, green carpet that was a delight to see. From the smiles on the villagers’ faces, it was clear that there would be a great harvest this year.

By now, the population of the Randell Fief had exceeded five thousand. The palisades of Rivermouth Village had been dismantled, and the houses had been expanded again and again. The village had nearly reached the size of a small town, yet it was still struggling to accommodate the ever-increasing population. Just a short while ago, Lilia had given the order to build a fourth village.

The villagers were happy that the Randell Fief had more people. Farm work became easier, and single men found partners. The village group leaders were happy; it wouldn’t be long before each of them became a true village head. Narsen was happy; the guard detachment had expanded from one hundred and fifty to two hundred and forty men. Linda was also happy; the lordship’s development was progressing by the day, with a new village and a logging camp built, five thousand mu of ground-potatoes planted, and eight hundred young wild boars being raised. Everyone was happy—except for Lilia.

Housing for the villagers was easy to solve. What worried Lilia was their rations. According to Victor’s plan, the wheat produced in the Randell Fief for the next two years would be used as seed and could not be eaten. If the population continued to grow, some people would inevitably resort to poaching and illegal gathering. However, every twenty days, a caravan laden with grain arrived at Rivermouth Village. This grain flowed in from the Chapman territory. Although it was old grain unsuitable for planting, it was enough to fill the villagers’ stomachs.

Lilia knew that there were many things Victor hadn’t told her, such as the secret trade between the Randell Fief and the Chapman territory, and why Victor forbade anyone from approaching the Hill Camp. Lilia didn’t ask Victor to confirm these things. She had learned a lesson at Rose Manor: a lord cannot entrust everything to one person. Lilia just secretly resolved to expand the area for ground-potato cultivation. That was what she should be doing.

A pretty little church had been built in the square of Rivermouth Village. There was no head priest inside yet; Victor had built it for Father Miller. Lilia had met Father Miller. He was in his fifties, his face full of wrinkles and his hands covered in calluses. He was timid in his speech and actions. If not for the priest’s robes he wore, Lilia would have thought Father Miller was just a simple, honest farmer. Yet Victor had personally invited Father Miller to preach in Rivermouth Village, built a small church for him, and even donated five large wild boars every month for Father Miller to use for alms.

Although Father Miller lacked the grand air of a proper priest, he was kind to people and even treated the villagers’ illnesses for free. Once, a villager accidentally fell and broke his spine while building a house. Father Miller performed a divine art on the spot and healed him. Since then, the commoners of the Randell Fief held Father Miller in great awe and reverence. Lilia’s opinion of this unassuming old priest had also changed dramatically.

What Lilia was dissatisfied about was that Victor had rarely returned to the manor these past two months. He spent most of his time in Nicole’s territory. Although she knew Victor was busy building the reservoir, Lilia would still pout her little lips whenever she thought about it.

At this moment, Victor was not with Nicole, but in the Alchemy Tower at the Hill Camp.

Holding the letter brought back by the alchemical crow, Victor sent a message to the King: “King, I have consulted the Alchemical auxiliary soldiers. The Saloner Steel one-handed rune greatsword is a standard-issue weapon used by alchemical units. The Alchemical auxiliary soldiers can only forge the blade blank; the subsequent processes must be completed by an alchemist. Although I don’t know why a weapon fragment from the Alchemical Empire is in the Gloomy Forest, I will definitely send people to search for the ruins of an Alchemy Tower. Now, I have two questions for you.”

“My lord, please ask,” the King responded.

“First, assuming there is a Rune Crystal from an Alchemy Tower there, if I bring it back, can I complete the production function for the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard?”

“Second, assuming there is an Alchemy Tower there that produces combat units, can I use you to activate it?”

Chapter 185: Preparations

“My lord, I will answer your second question first. As a Tower Spirit, I am already bound to the Rune Crystal of the No. 7 Alchemy Tower. I am the No. 7 Alchemy Tower, and the No. 7 Alchemy Tower is me. Assuming there truly is an alchemy tower ruin in the Gloomy Forest, if you were to take me there, it would be the equivalent of moving the No. 7 Alchemy Tower from the Centaur Hills to the Gloomy Forest; it would not change its functions.” After speaking, the King added, “My lord, do you truly believe that combat units are more important than logistics units? The resources required to construct combat units would likely bankrupt you, whereas I can create an empire for you.”

The King’s tone was as flat as ever, but the sense of grievance and indignation was palpable, leaving Victor both disappointed and amused. Victor had no idea what kind of life-form the King was or if it even had emotions, but based on the Tower Spirit’s activation process, it was created from a blueprint of its master’s memories. Serving its master was the very meaning of its existence. The moment Victor showed a hint of disdain for the No. 7 Alchemy Tower, the King immediately argued that it was more useful than other towers. Perhaps the instinct to preserve one’s own value was inherent to all life.

Victor had to admit the King had a point. As long as the Alchemical humans were left in the wild, they required no management or supplies and could continuously transform resources into wealth at a staggering pace. Victor himself didn’t know how much wealth he had accumulated. He only knew that the Alchemical humans had forged over a thousand sets of elite soldier equipment. These sets consisted of a refined iron chainmail shirt, a rattan-and-leather inner tunic, a one-handed refined iron spear, a round shield, a one-handed refined iron sword, a helmet, battle boots, and rattan-and-leather gauntlets. The Sasan Empire was willing to purchase these same sets for the price of forty-five fat oxen, equivalent to eighty Gold Sols. And the equipment forged by the Alchemical militia was the finest of the fine, its value fifty percent higher still. This was just the tip of the iceberg of Victor’s wealth. The alchemical creatures controlled four hundred kilometers of mountainous terrain as well as the Randell Fief. They had already discovered one mithril mine, one iron mine, two refined iron veins, and three thorium mines. The timber, animals, and medicinal herbs were simply innumerable. All these resources were Victor’s for the taking. Yet, Victor sat on this massive fortune unable to make it known, his lack of high-end military power being his critical weakness.

By common logic, production and construction capabilities should determine military strength. Unfortunately, this world was not Earth; high-end military power was what truly decided military capability.

Victor had no intuitive understanding of just how strong a Pinnacle Knight was. Sylvia had told him that, in theory, a Pinnacle Knight’s strength had no upper limit, but in practice, it was restricted by the physical limitations of the human body. In terms of combat strength, a Pinnacle Knight was comparable to an Ogre Warlord or a Centaur Chiliarch, perhaps even slightly weaker. In wars between human lords, a castle less than forty meters tall couldn’t stop a Pinnacle Knight, though they couldn’t do much against a massive fortress either. In truth, Pinnacle Knights could not simply go on a rampage slaughtering common soldiers. In the eyes of the Church, this was no different from the actions of a savage Wizard and had to be suppressed. In any case, after Sylvia had advanced to the pinnacle rank, she had never killed anyone with her own hands, because there was simply no need.

In human kingdoms, the influence of a Pinnacle Knight was far more terrifying than their martial prowess. No matter how strong or weak a family was, as long as it produced a single Pinnacle Knight, it would be considered a noble house of high bloodline. The Church would offer appeasement and convenience, other nobles would rush to form marriage alliances, and other Knights would flock to pledge their allegiance, instantly forming a powerful faction. The common people would naturally gravitate towards them as well. If a conflict arose between a Pinnacle Knight’s family and an ordinary family, there was no need for war. External pressure alone would be enough to make the opponent yield. Their trade would be cut off, their people would flee, their allies would remain neutral, and the Church would only favor the other side. Then, internal divisions would arise. What else could they do but compromise? A Pinnacle Knight was the prevailing sentiment!

Although Victor quite enjoyed his intimate relationship with Sylvia, it didn’t change the fact of his subordinate position. And since Victor could never share the secret of the Alchemy Tower with anyone, he could only develop his power in secret. On top of that, the mithril trade was a ticking time bomb. If the Great Knight of the York family learned of this, Victor would be seen as a traitor who profited at his family’s expense. Victor didn’t know how Sylvia would react, but she would certainly take away his eastern territories. By that time, the Randell Fief would be surrounded by York family lands, and Victor’s every move would be under their watchful eyes, which was no different from being under a blockade.

After receiving Bull’s letter, Victor had immediately rushed to Hill Camp. The description of Category I weapons in the letter had invigorated him. The Alchemical Empire didn’t have the concepts of Gold-rank, Silver-rank, or Bronze-rank, but one could see the parallels in their material grading system. The Ant-man chief’s armor was made of a Category II material, which meant Category I material was roughly equivalent to Gold-rank. An alchemical creature capable of wielding a Category I weapon would possess at least Gold-rank combat strength. If he had Gold-rank alchemical creatures, Victor wouldn’t be so constrained.

Of course, if the No. 7 Alchemy Tower could recreate the Alchemical Empire, Victor would have no need to replace it. However, the No. 7 Tower’s main function was collection and rough processing; it couldn’t replicate the core alchemy of the Néier Empire. But Victor had discovered that the techniques mastered by the Alchemical humans could also be learned by ordinary people. In fact, Victor had already ordered the Alchemical auxiliary soldiers to transcribe their knowledge, techniques, and various designs onto scrolls using Chinese characters. Victor did this so that, if the worst came to pass, he could at least flee with the Rune Crystal. This also meant that even if Victor were to replace the Alchemy Tower, his losses wouldn’t be too great. Unfortunately, that was no longer possible.

Victor decided to settle for the next best thing. “Repairing the production function for the Alchemical Dragon-Lizards shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

“My lord, I can repair a specified function according to your request. The degree of repair depends on the integrity of the Rune Crystal. The premise is that there really is an inactive Rune Crystal in the Gloomy Forest,” the King replied.

“We’ll only know if we go and see. King, report the remaining funds and Soul Fire in the Alchemy Tower,” Victor commanded.

“My lord, remaining Soul Fire is seven hundred ninety-six. Remaining funds are one hundred eighteen thousand seventy-five Gold Sols.”

“King, produce forty Alchemical Crows, twenty Alchemical Warhounds, ten Crouching Ox Militiamen, and twenty Lithe Ape Militiamen.”

“Production queue established. Consumes two hundred thirty Soul Fire and fifty-four thousand Gold Sols. Requires five hundred hours.”

The corner of Victor’s mouth twitched. He kept comforting himself internally: This bit of money is nothing. I’m very rich now! Very rich!

Without lingering long at Hill Camp, Victor returned directly to the manor.

Hearing that Victor had arrived at the manor, Lilia also hurried back. The moment they met, before Lilia could even speak, Victor pulled the little handmaiden into an embrace, planted a kiss on her small mouth, and said with a smile, “We can talk about the fief’s affairs later. Go get Barol, Dean, Old Ham, and Butz. I have some things to discuss with them.”

Lilia smiled sweetly, gave Victor a gentle hug, and went off to make the arrangements.

A short while later, Barol was sitting respectfully across from Victor.

“Not long ago, our caravan was put on a wanted list by Baron Murphy, and we clashed with the magistrate in Kasan Town. I don’t even know who Baron Murphy is, nor do I know where Kasan Town is. The map you bought was wrong too! Of course, these situations were to be expected, but it proves that a caravan without local contacts is blind and deaf, and in great danger. Our future caravans can’t possibly maintain a lineup as strong as the Warhammer Mercenary Company’s. Therefore, we must expand Quicksilver’s outer line as soon as possible to provide cover for the caravans. What are your suggestions on this?” Victor asked lightly, tapping his fingers on the table.

Barol wiped the cold sweat from his brow. “My lord, to expand the outer line, we must first build up the inner line. I have already ordered Quicksilver to change its strategy from infiltration to cultivating new members. To ensure the loyalty of the inner line, new recruits can only be selected from among orphans, so Quicksilver’s growth is still too slow.” Seeing Victor’s noncommittal expression, Barol gritted his teeth and continued, “My lord, adopting orphans is the primary way to cultivate spies loyal to a family. I will first have Quicksilver bring the newly recruited orphans back to train new members. In addition, I plan to personally retrace Iron Hammer’s route to gather some usable personnel and establish the outer line for this trade route at the same time.”

Victor thought Barol’s suggestion was a good one. Orphans adopted by the family would naturally be unquestioningly loyal, but it would take too long, and the freemen caravans couldn’t wait that long. Only by frequently visiting those mountain folk strongholds could the caravans deepen their influence and control over the mountain folk; otherwise, the Warhammer Mercenary Company’s ice-breaking journey would be all for naught. Barol was an experienced spy; he had the ability to tell who was a fellow professional and who was just an ordinary person. Therefore, Barol could select suitable people from among the freemen to join Quicksilver, just as he had trained Monkey.

“Let’s do this. Have young Paul bring those orphans back. Monkey and his men will go with you. I’ll give you two more groups of men, one overt and one covert, to ensure your safety. You can apply to Lilia for the necessary funds. However, there are a few things I need to make clear.”

“My lord, please give your orders.”

Victor pondered for a moment before speaking. “For now, Monkey and the others cannot know about the relationship between Quicksilver and the family. The same goes for any new recruits. Second, focus your investigation on Kasan Town. It would be best to place usable personnel there. Third, remember, if you encounter danger, flee into the wilderness. There will be people out there to support you.”

“My lord, I will remember!” Barol said solemnly.

“By the way, who is in charge of smuggling Snow Sugar and coffee to Pine Forest Town?” Victor asked.

“It’s my old subordinate, Sasha. My lord, is there a problem with him?” Barol asked apprehensively.

“There’s no problem. I have a batch of hemostatic and healing potions here. Have Sasha ask the people in Pine Forest Town if they are willing to take them.”

Victor was in desperate need of Gold Sols. The Alchemy Tower’s reserve funds were running low, building Quicksilver was a bottomless pit, and he still had a large annual tribute to pay. If there really was an alchemy tower ruin in the Gloomy Forest, Victor would also need to make a trip to Kasan Town himself. As a lord, Victor couldn’t just disappear without explanation. The entourage and social obligations on the road would all cost money.

Victor’s mithril trade was conducted under the cover of Snow Sugar and coffee. The York family had always believed that Victor was trading Snow Sugar and coffee with the Chapman family for supplies. In reality, the mithril was exchanged for adamantine, grain, livestock, and various other goods, while the Chapman family took the lion’s share of the profits from the Snow Sugar and coffee. The Chapman family’s excuse was that they were poor and needed the profits to purchase grain from other lords. Victor was helpless against this.

As for the silver ore, Victor couldn’t touch it at all. According to the kingdom’s laws, gold and silver mines were jointly owned by the royal family and the local lord. The lord would handle the mining, while the royal family would dispatch officials to supervise. The royal family took ninety percent of gold mines and seventy percent of silver mines. When it came to the matter of minting currency, no kingdom would ever compromise.

Of course, Victor could follow the common practice of lords and have the silver cast into silverware to be smuggled out, but that was on the premise that he had the channels to do so. If Victor had such channels, why would he bother smuggling silver? His military supplies were piled up like mountains, but for now, the only thing he could sell was potions.

After Barol left, Victor sat with a worried frown. He realized his trade channels were quite narrow. Right now, the York family was so broke they would pinch every penny, and the Chapman family was by no means a good trading partner. If he had any other choice, Victor wouldn’t want to deal with that bunch of misers.

Perhaps I should contact Sophia. Victor shook his head, extinguishing the thought. It was that very woman who had given him to Sylvia as a gift. Trading military supplies with her would be tantamount to exposing himself to Sylvia.

“My lord, you summoned me?” Dean knocked on the open wooden door.

Victor pushed aside his scattered thoughts and nodded. “Come in, sit down and talk.”

As soon as Dean was seated, Victor said, “I plan to put you in charge of Brick Kiln Village. Make your preparations, recruit four hundred men from among the freemen, and then take over the village. Discuss the freemen’s wages with Lilia. Once she agrees, you can proceed.”

“Yes, my lord.” Dean stood up in pleasant surprise, then hesitated. “My lord, can the workers in Brick Kiln Village be left for me? The newly recruited freemen have no experience in brick-making. I’m afraid I’ll delay your affairs.”

“No! Go and bring Old Ham and Butz in.” Victor’s face turned cold as he gave the order. The very reason he was putting Dean back in charge of Brick Kiln Village was to free up the hundred-plus Alchemical militia there. How could he possibly leave any men for Dean?

Dean left in disgrace. A moment later, the dog trainer Old Ham and Butz walked in.

After the two paid their respects, Victor said amiably, “I have a small fief in the northern part of the Centaur Hills. It’s a true Pioneer Fief, right next to the mountains, crawling with monsters. There is no land to cultivate, so we can only raise cattle, sheep, and wild boars. The nearby lords are also my mortal enemies. Developing that fief will be not only arduous but also dangerous. Are you willing to go and hold it for me?”

Victor watched the two men quietly, and he heard them speak in unison, “We are willing to serve you, my lord.”

Victor nodded in satisfaction. Old Ham was a veteran of the War Bear Mercenaries, a man of the grasslands skilled at training Tiku hounds and herding cattle and sheep. Butz had managed the mountain folk camp and had a group of mountain folk under him. Moreover, both men knew that Victor commanded a powerful military force. As long as they cooperated, they would be more than capable of controlling the situation there.

“Butz, take all your mountain folk with you, and recruit three hundred more freemen. Build a village there first. I appoint you as the Village Head. Old Ham, I will give you ten Guards and sixty elite militia. I appoint you as the Garrison Commander. In addition, I have placed a group of men in the mountains who can support you at any time.”

“You have not disappointed me, and I guarantee you will not be disappointed either!”

Chapter 186: The Throat-slitter

Vistock, the capital city of the Wellington duchy, had a history of over six hundred years.

As the Wellington family was the leader of the lordly powers in south-central Gambis, Vistock was the largest distribution center for goods in the southern half of the kingdom. Not only did the lords of the south-central region transport their produce to Vistock, but caravans from other lords also came and went without cease, and freemen flocked to the city. Over time, Vistock’s population grew from over twenty thousand to more than fifty thousand. Countless houses and shops were also built outside the city walls, gradually evolving into Vistock’s outer district.

The Ram and Ewe Inn was located in the southwest corner of the outer district, a common haunt for mercenaries.

It wasn’t even dark yet, but the inn was already packed. A mountain of a waitress swayed her plump hips, nimbly dodging a few oily, groping hands as she dropped a whole platter of roasted beef ribs onto an oak table. As the waitress bent over, she blew a sensual kiss to the young mountain folk, then turned and left the table, her bucket-like waist swaying. Rogers reluctantly pulled his gaze back, only to find the three commanders looking at him teasingly, his face immediately flushing red.

“Go on, then. Wine and women are a mercenary’s best relaxation. Haven’t all those young lads gone off to have their fun?”

Vice-commander Fermi tossed five shiny Silver Sol onto the table. Rogers gritted his teeth, snatched the coins, and chased after the waitress amidst a roar of laughter.

“Hammer, this kid is just like you were back in the day—sees a female and wants to pounce,” Kidd said, taking a swig of juniper wine. The sour, astringent taste made him frown.

“These lads are much luckier than my old brothers,” Iron Hammer said with emotion.

After emerging from the Gloomy Forest, the Warhammer Mercenary Company had trekked through the wilderness for over twenty days. Along the way, they took over three freemen camps, adding three new members to their ranks. Later, they encountered a caravan from a minor family. After a tense standoff and some discussion, the caravan led them to Vistock. The freemen merchants used the caravan’s trade channels to deal with their goods in the inner city, while Iron Hammer had his men rest and recuperate at the mercenary inn, taking the opportunity to purchase some equipment for the newcomers. The journey had been fraught with suspense but little actual danger, with almost no losses, all thanks to the protection of the Alchemical militia.

Fermi turned his head and saw the Alchemical militiamen gathered around another table, eating and drinking heartily. He whispered, “Have you guys heard? They say Bull and the others are death commandos, raised by my lord’s family since childhood.”

“There is such a rumor. Look at Bull, all he knows is eating and drinking, doesn’t want women, and he’s not afraid to die in a fight! What is he if not a death commando?” Kidd said quietly.

“Bull and the others are so strong they can even beat an apprentice knight. They must have some secret art. If this secret art can make them stronger, it can make us stronger too. But if practicing it makes you lose interest in women, I wouldn’t dare! Would you?”

Kidd immediately shook his head vigorously, while Iron Hammer leaned in and said, “The Chief has already practiced it! Nothing happened to him, and he defeated a Knight from Baron Matthew’s family in a direct fight. I saw it with my own eyes!”

“I heard about that. Are you sure the Chief is fine?” Fermi asked, half-convinced.

“Nonsense. The Chief lives right next door to me, and the racket he makes every night… Let me tell you—no, I won’t! You can tell just by looking at Linda’s face,” Kidd said with a lewd grin.

Iron Hammer hesitated for a moment, then said softly, “Old Baritt let it slip. My lord is planning to reward those who perform meritorious deeds with the secret art. The greater the merit, the more powerful the art!”

“Really!?” Fermi asked excitedly.

“I heard it’s still under discussion. But no matter what, my lord never treats his meritorious men unfairly. As long as we do our job well, there’s a good chance we’ll be rewarded with the secret art,” Iron Hammer said.

“Right!” Kidd eagerly asked, “So which way do we go from here?”

“I’ve checked. There are two routes. The first goes east then north, all across open plains. We could reach Naville in two months at most, but we’d almost certainly only run into freemen camps. The other route is a bit of a detour. Six days north of Vistock, there’s a mountain range. Following the mountains east will also lead to Naville, but it will take about four months.”

“Freemen camps are mostly built near forests, there’s not much to gain from them, and they might pack up and move at any time. I think taking the mountain route is better.”

“Right, let’s go north!”

While the three were in heated discussion, two men in a guest room on the inn’s second floor were also arguing.

“Ace, let’s stop here. The mission is over. Here’s the final payment.”

A tall, burly man tossed a heavy coin pouch to a man in gray. The man caught the pouch and shook the gold coins out onto the table.

The man in gray picked up a coin and examined it carefully. The coin had a purplish luster, with a mountain and a sun minted on the front, and a castle by a river on the back. It was a Purple Gold Coin from the Borrey United Kingdom, each one exchangeable for eight hundred Gold Sol in the Kingdom of Borea. There were at least one hundred and fifty of them in the pile.

“This client is quite generous. The job isn’t even done, and they’ve paid in full. In that case, I will honor my word. Go back and tell the boss that no one on the list will escape.”

After casually tossing the Purple Gold Coin onto the table, the gray-clothed man named Ace took out a small knife and a piece of wood and began to carve, one stroke at a time.

“Ace! It’s over! You’ve got the money. Now pack up and come back with me!” the burly man growled in a low voice.

Ace paid him no heed. The knife in his hands moved faster and faster, and a buzzing sound like the beating of a wild bee’s wings gradually filled the room. Wood shavings flew, and in an instant, a lifelike wooden carving of a woman appeared in Ace’s hands. He held it up, examining it for a moment, and nodded in satisfaction before carefully placing it on the table.

“This is big business. I got one hundred sixty thousand Gold Sol, so the boss must have taken at least three hundred twenty thousand, right? Tsk tsk, five hundred thousand Gold Sol for fourteen lives. What a great business! I remember when I used to kill a man for only fifty Gold Sol.”

The burly man’s face was grim. “You have so much money now, you can quit. Do whatever you want. Isn’t that great?”

“Haha! Do whatever I want?” Ace chuckled, pushing the Purple Gold Coins towards the burly man. “If you can spend a single night in Vistock’s Nobles’ District, all of this is yours.”

“Nonsense! Is the Nobles’ District a place we can just go to?” the burly man said angrily.

“Heh, the nobles and us are people from two different worlds. They are noble, elegant, and rich. How could lowlifes like us go to the Nobles’ District? But the nobles can come and go from the slums as they please. Do you know who I carved?” Ace asked with a cold smile.

“Who? Your first love?”

“My sister, Emily.” Ace gently stroked the wooden statue of the woman. “She died when she was four. If she were still alive, this is what she would look like now. Guess how she died?”

The burly man kept his mouth shut. This was bound to be a tragic story, and though he was hard as iron, he didn’t want to provoke his powerful companion.

Ace continued, “That year, some young noble, I don’t know what got into him, wanted to see what the slums looked like. He showed up where I lived with a huge entourage. You know how it is, the slums are smelly and dirty. That young noble couldn’t stand it and started galloping on his horse. Emily was only four, what did she know? She was trampled to death by the young noble’s mount. And then, that young noble threw up. Haha, he actually threw up!”

Ace’s face twisted, his eyes wild, but his hands remained steady as a rock. A chill ran down the burly man’s spine, and he quietly shifted a little further away. Ace quickly regained his composure and continued, “Five hundred thousand Gold Sol for fourteen lives, what a great business! But they are all nobles. A noble’s life is only worth thirty-six thousand Gold Sol. Hey, that Clovis Wimbledon I killed in the Kingdom of Sus, he was the Queen of Sus’s lover. The Queen of Sus would surely have paid five hundred thousand Gold Sol to have him back. Do you still think this is a good deal? I took such a bad deal because I don’t give a damn about the money!”

“Let me tell you a secret. When I slit a noble’s throat with my dagger, they bleed from their mouths and cry tears from their eyes, no different from the lowlifes who have died by my hand. But for me, that wonderful sensation is different. Let’s see, who’s next? Ah, right. Victor Wimbledon from the Centaur Hills, now known as Viscount Randell. Another weak noble with an elven bloodline.” The knife danced between Ace’s fingers. He smiled, “I’ll tell you another secret. I won’t stop. When I get caught, I’ll spill everything and let those noble lords kill each other.”

“You dare break the rules!” The burly man shot to his feet in panic, then sat back down with a cold laugh. “What could you possibly spill? you don’t even know who the client is!”

Ace sighed. “You’re the one who doesn’t know! The boss is just the client’s dog. The client is Young Master Raymond from Duke Peter’s family. He’s not old, but he’s vicious enough to want to kill his own cousin, Michelle! Although I don’t know why Young Master Raymond wants to assassinate nobles with elven bloodlines, behind every one of them is a great noble. What do you think their reaction will be when they find out Raymond Peter orchestrated all this?”

The burly man’s eyes narrowed. He flipped the table, sending it crashing towards Ace, then turned and bolted for the door. A gray shadow flashed. The burly man collapsed by the door, a gruesome, jagged wound on his neck from which blood gushed. Ace leaned down and whispered in the man’s ear.

“You don’t know how fast I am!”

————————————

“Victor, what’s the name of your manor?”

The eldest daughter of the Chapman family stood with her arms crossed. Victor’s gaze lingered for a moment on Gillian’s stunningly beautiful body before he smiled. “I haven’t thought of one yet. Do you have any suggestions?”

“How about Gillian Manor?” the coolly beautiful young lady said lightly.

“Er… you didn’t come all this way just to name my manor, did you?” Victor really wanted to tell the eldest daughter of the Chapman family that even if it were called Gillian Manor, the manor still wouldn’t be hers.

“Fine, if you don’t want to,” Gillian muttered under her breath, then said, “The price you’ve set for those potions is too high. You must lower it by seventy percent.”

“I won’t lower it by a single Copper Sol!” Victor understood very well that when dealing with the Chapman family, one had to be decisive and give them no room to bargain.

Seeing Gillian’s willow-leaf brows shoot up like swords, Victor added, “You can choose not to buy them!”

Gillian’s eyes darted around. “Then let us buy them on credit for now. We’re very poor, we still need to buy grain and livestock for you…”

“My dear Young Lady, you can choose not to buy them!” Victor gave Gillian an elegant noble’s bow.

“You!” Gritting her fine, white teeth, Gillian said huffily, “Fine, your price it is. But you have to give me some compensation.”

Victor smiled slightly. He knew the sudden visit from the Chapman’s eldest daughter must have some ulterior motive.

“Let my people take a look at the brick kiln. You won’t refuse such a small request, will you?”

Gillian put on an air of nonchalance, but she secretly watched Victor’s expression out of the corner of her eye.

The Chapman family was responsible for transporting stone to Nicole’s territory, so the already completed giant brick kiln had not escaped their notice. Its immense output had made Earl Chapman extremely envious. Although green bricks weren’t sturdy enough, they didn’t rot and couldn’t be set on fire, making them a primary material for building noble manors. However, the production of ordinary green bricks was very low, and one had to save up for a long time to build a single manor.

Earl Chapman had told Gillian that if she could achieve her goal, he would help her build two manors. After two full days of haggling, the father and daughter had finally reached an agreement at the price of three manors. And so, Gillian had eagerly rushed over to find Victor.

Victor frowned. He hadn’t expected the Chapman family to be eyeing the giant brick kiln. Although they couldn’t produce rock bricks without the formula, he couldn’t let others easily copy the giant brick kiln either.

“The giant brick kiln was designed by the York family. I can’t agree to your request. But I can ask for you,” Victor said, his expression placid.

“Hmph! Don’t think I don’t know you had a giant brick kiln here before the Ant-man tide!” Gillian sneered.

Victor spread his hands innocently. “I haven’t even built my own castle yet. Do you think I have architects? I’m sure your people saw that the giant brick kiln built by the York family is even larger than the one here, with higher output. In fact, the giant brick kiln in my territory was also designed and built by the York family’s architects. They want my subjects to produce green bricks for Black Fortress Town.”

“Aren’t you the representative of the York family? Me talking to you is the same as talking to the York family, isn’t it? Just state your terms,” Gillian said with a nod, completely accepting Victor’s words.

Victor shook his head. “I can only ask for you, but I don’t think the York family will agree. Besides, have you thought about what it would mean for the Chapman territory to have a giant brick kiln designed by the York family?”

Gillian’s expression changed. The York family controlled the Centaur Hills, and their power was growing rapidly. The royal family both relied on and feared them. Under these circumstances, the lords of Gambis, big and small, wouldn’t dare to deal directly with the York family, lest they be suppressed by the crown. The royal family couldn’t handle Duke York, but couldn’t they handle the other lords? The York family understood this, which was why they had pushed Victor forward as a window for communication with the outside world. As long as the lords weren’t openly aligning with the York family, the royal family could turn a blind eye. But if the Chapman territory had a York family giant brick kiln, the situation would be different. Such cooperation would be tantamount to picking a side.

“I have a proposal. You could just buy the green bricks directly,” Victor said, smiling at the grim-faced Gillian.

Gillian said sullenly, “Fine, then. One hundred bricks for one Copper Sol.”

“Heh, my dear Young Lady, I could give you a tour of the lake. Its beautiful scenery will surely ensure you return home satisfied,” Victor said, so amused he was annoyed.

“Don’t go too far! They’re just mud!” Gillian said through gritted teeth.

“The freemen artisans who make the bricks have to feed their families too!” Victor reminded her.

“Fine! Ninety bricks for one Copper Sol!”

“Eight green bricks for one Copper Sol.”

The two went back and forth, finally reaching a consensus at twenty-five green bricks for one Copper Sol, with a minimum monthly trade of twenty-five thousand green bricks.

Gillian stalked off in a huff. Victor watched her graceful back, lost in thought. He rubbed his chin and ordered a guard beside him, “Go find Dean for me.”

Dean arrived before Victor, panting. Victor asked him, “Dean. In the past, how many handmade bricks could you buy for one Copper Sol?”

Dean thought for a moment and said, “Three bricks for one Copper Sol.”

Victor’s face instantly darkened.

Damn it! I’ve been had. That woman never intended to build a giant brick kiln from the very beginning. She put on a good act. Victor was extremely frustrated. Seeing Dean standing there with his head bowed, he asked again, “What’s the daily output of green bricks now?”

“Five thousand bricks. Once the novices become more skilled, the output can increase to ten thousand bricks a day.”

Victor beamed and clapped Dean on the shoulder. “Excellent, you’ve done a great job!”

“My lord, do you have any other orders?” Dean said, overwhelmed by the favor.

“No, you can go back to your work.”

Chapter 187: Industrialization and the Subject Employment System

In the early morning, the rising sun dyed the shimmering surface of the river a golden yellow, making the majestic Goldwater River seem exceptionally magnificent.

A gentle breeze drifted by, carrying cool, moist air that swept away the last vestiges of heat from the Season of Fire, heralding the arrival of the Season of Wind.

Victor stood atop a high tower, his gaze crossing the surging river to land on the opposite bank, more than ten kilometers away. On the south bank of the Goldwater River, a thousand Fishmen ran about and played on the shoals, while on the north bank, not a single Fishman could be seen—only armored soldiers patrolling back and forth.

“Sir Anthony, why haven’t the Fishmen from the other side come over?” Victor asked the Intendant beside him.

Anthony walked to the edge of the tower, trying his best to see the other side of the river, but could only make out a vast expanse of white. He shook his head and sighed, “Victor, your eyesight is truly enviable.” Then, he explained, “Although Fishmen are aquatic beastmen, they cannot leave the riverbank for long. Every so often, they must come ashore to bask in the sun and get rid of the moss on their bodies, otherwise they will die of moss sickness. The reason Fishmen like to run wildly on the riverbank is that the moss on their bodies makes them itch to the point of madness. Therefore, any creature that invades the riverbank will be attacked by Fishmen, which is why they are also known as riverbank Fishmen or lakefront Fishmen.”

“In fact, Fishmen don’t have the ability to cross the Goldwater River; they don’t even dare to approach the deep-water areas. There are many ferocious aquatic animals in the Goldwater River that prey on Fishmen, and the water lizards in the center of the river are far beyond what Fishmen can handle. Those ten-meter-long monsters are the true masters of the Goldwater River.”

“An adult water lizard can capsize small boats and prey on those who fall in the water. The Kingdom of Borea suffered heavy losses in its early days. To protect cargo and personnel, the ships of the Kingdom of Borea were built larger and larger. Later, the Boreans discovered that candles made from water lizard oil were very bright and lacked the foul smell of tallow candles, and the quality of water lizard hides was also quite good. Only then did they begin to build fast boats specifically for hunting water lizards.”

Victor patted the parapet of the tower and smiled, “I hear a single water lizard is worth ten thousand Gold Sol. It makes me want to build a pier right here, using this sluice gate as a foundation.”

In the last month of the Season of Fire, the sluice gate on the bank of the Goldwater River was finally completed. The entire structure was built of solid graystone, standing twenty meters high, ten meters wide, and fifteen meters long, with walls two meters thick. It had two towers, seven rooms, and two storage rooms, capable of garrisoning fifty soldiers. It was, for all intents and purposes, a small castle.

Although the sluice gate was not yet comparable to a Baron’s castle, it was far too strong for Fishmen to damage. With the protection of this fortification, building a pier by the river was entirely feasible. But Anthony shook his head. “The value of water lizards isn’t enough to justify building a pier.” Then, he added with a bitter smile, “And we can’t afford it.”

Building a wooden pier was simple; with two hundred Alchemical militia, Victor could have it done in a dozen days. However, the cost of maintaining a functioning pier was considerable. It would require not only soldiers for protection but also the construction of a supporting dockyard and ships. If there was no stable source of production here, there was no need to build a pier. Moreover, the fief’s construction projects had already drained the York family of its last Gold Sol. If not for the Purple Cane wine trade, Sylvia would have been tempted to resort to robbery.

Victor understood as well. The current priority was to advance the construction of the stream reservoir and the man-made channel to provide the material support needed for the future war with the Ant-men.

“Two days ago, the Chapman family bought a batch of green bricks from me,” Victor said calmly.

“Green bricks?” Anthony was taken aback. After a moment of thought, he exclaimed with delight, “That’s right! We can sell green bricks to others. This can lighten our burden for constructing the reservoir and the man-made channel!”

Before the appearance of the giant brick kiln, producing green bricks was a time-consuming and laborious affair. The bricks a lord managed to accumulate were barely enough for his own use, let alone for sale. The York family had copied Victor’s giant brick kiln with the original intention of selling green bricks for profit. The construction of the stream reservoir and man-made channel would itself produce a large amount of earth, and turning this earth into green bricks to sell to other lords was a classic case of killing two birds with one stone. If managed properly, it would be tantamount to having other families shoulder the construction costs of the man-made channel, which would greatly accelerate the progress of the waterworks project.

Victor nodded. “That’s right. However, I have a few suggestions regarding the green bricks. First is production volume. My giant brick kiln once produced thirty thousand green bricks in a single day. The output of the kiln you designed might be even higher.”

Anthony said with some pride, “I used a duplex structure. It can produce up to forty thousand green bricks a day at maximum capacity.”

“Very good, but the more green bricks we produce, the more firewood we consume. If we don’t impose limits, we will soon find ourselves with no wood to burn. I think a daily production of twenty thousand green bricks is more reasonable.”

Anthony nodded. “That makes sense.”

Victor continued, “Second is sales and pricing. I hope that the green bricks from the Centaur Hills can be sold and priced uniformly. The specific method would be this: whichever lord begins constructing a man-made channel will be responsible for the sale and pricing of the green bricks.”

The York family had built eleven giant brick kilns, distributed throughout the territories of their various vassal families. The lords were still skeptical about the massive man-made channel project, but they were enthusiastic about building stream reservoirs. Yet even building a stream reservoir required an immense amount of manpower and resources. If selling green bricks could solve this problem, which family would be willing to just hand over control?

At this thought, Anthony frowned and said tactfully, “Victor, given our relationship, I am willing to support you. However, I am ultimately just the Intendant of the York family, and I have no authority to meddle in the internal affairs of other vassal families. According to the man-made channel construction plan formulated by Tutor Edwen, the Randell Fief will be the first to build a channel. If you want to take the lead on the sale and pricing of green bricks, you should provide a suitable reason.”

Victor nodded and said, “A market, like a forest, also needs to be protected and nurtured. Reckless logging will destroy the forest, leaving us with no timber. Likewise, haphazardly selling green bricks will destroy the market.”

“Victor, I… I don’t understand what you mean. Isn’t a market something built in a town? How can it be destroyed by green bricks?” Anthony asked, confused.

Victor scratched his head, unsure how to explain the concept of a market to Anthony, so he decided not to dwell on the point.

“Alright, you should understand that the value of the man-made channel is far greater than that of the green bricks. If selling green bricks can help us build the channel, the lords won’t quibble, even if there’s no profit. Correct?”

“That is without question.”

Once the man-made channel was complete, it could increase a lord’s arable land several times over. Compared to the value of farmland, the profit from selling green bricks was a pittance. Anthony believed most lords would even be willing to pay out of their own pockets to complete the channel project.

“Good!”

Victor continued, “The nobles need green bricks to build manors and villas, but the output of the giant brick kilns far exceeds the demand from the nobility. Once the nobles have finished building their manors and villas, our green bricks will have no buyers. By then, the cost of constructing the man-made channels will fall entirely on each individual family, which is a burden no single family can bear.”

Anthony thought for a moment and said, “I understand. This means selling green bricks can only support the construction of a segment of the channel. However, the other families are even less likely to agree to let the Randell Fief monopolize the benefits of both the green bricks and the man-made channel.”

Victor sneered inwardly. If he weren’t worried that the York family’s vassal lords would follow suit and get into the green brick business, thereby wrecking the market, he wouldn’t care in the slightest about their fate. All that mattered was that the Randell Fief finished its waterworks first.

From the very beginning, Victor knew that no single lord could complete such a massive waterworks project on their own. This wasn’t an issue of finances or resources, but a systemic problem.

Subjects were required to provide four months of labor to their lord each year, mainly for harvesting crops and constructing infrastructure. Add to that their militia training, and where would they find the time to dig earth and build channels? Hiring freemen was an option, but their wages were extremely low, just enough to fill their stomachs. Freemen worked hard in the hopes of becoming subjects. When they discovered that digging pits for years wouldn’t earn them that status, they would surely choose to leave. Even if a lord was willing to raise wages, how long could his finances sustain it? As for forcing freemen to work… Emperor Lant had tried that, and he ended up dead.

Gillian coming to buy green bricks had given Victor an idea: turn green bricks into an industry, and let this industry drive the construction of the waterworks.

And if it was to be an industry, it had to be sustainable.

First, the resources had to be sustainable. As far as the green brick industry was concerned, clay was not an issue, but forest resources needed protection. Excessive production of green bricks would cause a shortage of firewood and destroy wildlife resources. Therefore, the output of green bricks had to be controlled, and at the same time, fast-growing shrubs had to be planted for firewood.

Second, market demand had to be sustainable. The quantity of green bricks used by nobles to build manors and villas was not enough to support this industry. Victor could expand the uses for green bricks, but before that, he couldn’t let the York family’s vassal lords mess things up behind his back. This was also why he proposed that the Randell Fief should lead the green brick sales initially.

Finally, the labor force had to be stable. Dean was once again in charge of Brick Kiln Village, leading a group of novices. Daily production was a mere five thousand bricks. In a few days, it might reach ten thousand a day, and only when these novices became highly skilled could the giant brick kiln reach its maximum production capacity. The problem was, these brickmakers might not be willing to engage in brick production indefinitely.

The biggest difference between subjects and freemen was the opportunity to be promoted to vassal—a status that commoners relentlessly pursued. In addition, during times of disaster, subjects received the lord’s protection first, while freemen might have to fend for themselves, their property and safety unprotected.

For this reason, Victor intended to make the skilled brickmakers his subjects, allowing them to enjoy all the rights of subjects while undertaking the corresponding obligations. Other subjects could also seek positions in Victor’s industries. This was the subject employment system Victor envisioned.

The subject employment system seemed simple, but in reality, it freed subjects from purely agricultural production, allowing them to engage in more specialized production, such as woodworking, textiles, ironworking, and so on. They didn’t need to be masters, just proficient in one or two steps of the process.

Once the subject employment system was implemented, both freemen and subjects could work when there was work and farm when there was not, making it flexible and efficient. For example, if a woodworking workshop in Randell Fief was idle, Victor could place an order for fifty carts. The workshop would hire skilled commoners from among the populace. After completing the order, the commoners would take their wages and return to farming, and the workshop would shut down again. Since these people only mastered one or a few steps of the production process, their skills would be worthless outside the industrial system of Randell Fief. As a result, the people of the Randell Fief would become Victor’s most loyal supporters.

Victor had no intention of introducing the subject employment system to the York family, but he couldn’t let the green brick industry be ruined by amateurs. Anthony had spoken tactfully, but his meaning was clear. If Victor was the first to lead the green brick sales, made all the money, and built his man-made channel, taking all the benefits while the other families didn’t even get the scraps, why would they possibly agree?

“What use is it for other families to build man-made channels if the ones in the Randell Fief aren’t even connected?”

Victor smiled and said, “The most critical issue is still the sales volume of green bricks. Therefore, we must find a way to expand sales. The lords surrounding the Centaur Hills won’t use that many green bricks, but what if they also started selling green bricks to others?”

“What do you mean by that? Have our neighbors build giant brick kilns too? If they all start selling green bricks, what will be left for us?” Anthony was getting agitated.

Victor shook his head with a smile. “Not to have them produce green bricks, but to have them sell them. Once the neighboring lords have finished building their manors, we will provide them with green bricks at a relatively low price. When they see there’s a profit to be made, they will naturally peddle them to other lords.”

“In addition, I will order the production of different specifications of green bricks, divided into noble-grade bricks, vassal-grade bricks, and subject-grade bricks. Noble-grade bricks can be custom-ordered with designated patterns—it’s just a matter of working on the molds. Many wealthy vassals also want to use green bricks to build their houses; vassal-grade bricks are for them. Subjects, of course, can’t afford green bricks, but most of their villages use Iron-oak for fences. Behind an Iron-oak fence, there is no firing platform, limiting their ability to fight back. If we use green bricks and rammed earth to build a three-meter-thick wall behind the fence, the defensive strength of the fence will be greatly increased, and archers can be stationed on the wall. If a Savage Gnoll breaks through the Iron-oak fence only to be buried by the brick wall, do you think the lords wouldn’t be willing to build brick walls for their own villages?”

“The sales channels for green bricks can be solved, but our original intention for selling them was not for profit, but to build the man-made water system. With a dozen or so lords of all sizes in the Centaur Hills, if every single one of them starts selling green bricks externally, the water system will never be built!”

Anthony was speechless. After a long moment, he shook his head and sighed, “It’s truly hard to imagine. You’ve never studied at the Spire, yet you can devise such a detailed strategy. Is this some innate talent of the commercial nobility?”

A thought stirred in Victor’s heart. He said, “I would actually love to see the Silver Spire.”

“You should go and see it. It’s a structure left over from the Era of the Chosen, truly spectacular. I can ask Tutor Edwen to write you a letter of introduction. The Spire Scholars will surely welcome your visit.” Anthony paused, then added, “I’ll be returning to Black Fortress Town soon. I will convey your opinions to the family’s upper echelons. I believe they will make a reasonable choice.”

Chapter 188: Sylvia’s Foresight

The first day of the second month of the Season of Wind.

In the grand reception hall of Black Fortress, Duke York and Sylvia sat side-by-side at the head of a long walnut table, while the lords of the vassal families were seated along its sides. The York family was holding a family council following the Season of Wind inspection.

The Season of Wind inspection was an extremely important task for a lord. Every year before the harvest, a lord had to personally inspect every town and village in their domain, check on the growth of the crops, the number of cattle and sheep, and the output of the workshops to prepare for the collection of tribute. They also had to listen to the counsel of their vassals, accept the greetings of their subjects, and declare their sovereignty to reassure the people. If they were a vassal lord of a great noble family, they also had an audience with their liege lord to report on the state of their fiefs and offer counsel or request aid.

This was the York family’s first Season of Wind inspection council since the Ant-man plague, yet every vassal lord in attendance wore a joyful and relaxed smile.

“This year, our House Teldrane will see a great harvest. The wheat is growing exceptionally well; almost every stalk is full and heavy. We expect to harvest around three hundred pounds of wheat per mu of farmland, and we only sowed eighty pounds of seed, less than half of what we used in previous years. The seed-to-yield ratio has reached an astonishing one to four. And the ground-potatoes… there are too many to even count. The number of cattle and sheep has also multiplied. I believe with one more year, the family can be self-sufficient in grain. With two more years, we can surpass our pre-plague levels. In four years, both our grain production and livestock numbers can match the scale we had in the Eastern Province.”

“The only regret is that for this year’s hunt, I can only chase after some timid short-tailed deer and yellow goats, because all the wild boars are already in my pigpens.”

Earl Teldrane’s speech drew a round of good-natured laughter, as the situation was much the same for every family present.

As the laughter died down, the enchanting Sylvia said faintly, “I have said before that I would waive three years of tribute from all of you, and that will not change.”

The lords present all bowed to Sylvia to show their respect. Sylvia then continued, “Now, let’s discuss the matter of centralizing the sale of green bricks.”

The lords’ smiles vanished. Their gazes met, but no one spoke. The atmosphere in the room instantly grew delicate. A charming smile played on Sylvia’s lips as her eyes danced. “It seems everyone has no objection to Sir Anthony’s proposal. Then we shall proceed as planned.”

As soon as she finished speaking, all eyes turned in unison to Duke York’s younger brother, Viscount Fredrick York. Fredrick cursed inwardly, but at this point, he had no choice but to bite the bullet. “Your Highness, this year’s great harvest is wonderful, but purchasing the wheat straw is no small burden. Buying cattle, sheep, and green wheat has already exhausted my savings, and I still need to spend a sum to hire freemen to build the stream reservoirs. I have no income at the moment. I hope the family will permit me to sell a batch of refined iron ingots to cover my fief’s expenses.”

After Intendant Anthony returned to Black Fortress Town, he had proposed a strategy of funding the canals with the sale of bricks. The York family’s vassal lords were delighted, for they had already tasted the benefits of the new agropastoral system, and the stream reservoirs and man-made channels were an extension and guarantee of that very system. Then, Anthony proposed that Viscount Randell should lead the sale of the green bricks with unified pricing and distribution, providing ample reason and a detailed plan. However, most of the vassal lords were very dissatisfied. They were unaware that the agropastoral system and the waterworks projects were all Victor’s handiwork. Instead, they felt that while Victor had contributed to the family, he couldn’t just use Sylvia’s favor to interfere in the internal affairs of other families. Besides the profits from the green bricks, the vassal lords were more worried about Victor’s influence over Sylvia, but restrained by Sylvia’s authority, no one was willing to be the first to speak out.

Fredrick didn’t mention the green brick sales at all, requesting to sell refined iron ingots instead. The other lords silently cursed his cunning. Sure enough, Duke York jumped in, loudly objecting, “I absolutely disagree! We haven’t been developing the Centaur Hills for long, and the family’s own reserves of refined iron are insufficient. How can we rashly sell refined iron ingots? Selling them when the family is at its most difficult will just be letting other families get us by the throat. They will force us to sign agreements to sell our refined iron cheaply in exchange for aid. What would that make us? Miners for other families? Gentlemen, tighten your purse strings, and do not let our refined iron flow out! In a few years, the York family will be able to control half the market for the price of refined iron!”

“Well, then I really have no other options,” Fredrick said with a shrug, a helpless look on his face. “Gold Sols don’t just fall from the sky.”

Bruce cleared his throat and said slowly, “I agree with Sir Anthony’s suggestion. If we hold on for another two years, we won’t have to worry about the whims of other families.”

“Hmph! Of course you’re not worried. Who doesn’t know that you, Bruce, have the best relationship with Viscount Randell! If Lord Randell is in charge of selling the green bricks, he certainly won’t forget about you!” Great Knight Harnas sneered.

“Harnas! What did you say?!” Bruce stood up, his face flushed with anger.

Harnas ignored Bruce’s glare and instead addressed Sylvia. “Your Highness, my fief is in the north, making it the most vulnerable to attacks from the monsters and beasts of the northern borderlands. I urgently need to build stream reservoirs, increase the number of villages, and expand my control over the territory. Otherwise, my only choice is to go back to raising cattle and sheep in pens and planting alfalfa. But my finances are very tight. Just purchasing the wheat straw from my subjects has put me in a difficult position. How will I find the funds to pay the wages for building the stream reservoirs? And, well, I don’t know what Lord Randell’s impression of me is. I ask Your Highness to order Lord Randell to prioritize the sale of my green bricks.”

Harnas was formerly a Great Knight from the three eastern provinces. After his liege lord was executed by Neowist, Harnas and another Great Knight pledged their allegiance to the York family and were granted investiture as barons. Sylvia had originally intended to give Nicole to Harnas as his personal handmaiden, but Nicole had ended up becoming Victor’s lover. Because of this connection, Harnas was deeply worried that Victor would target him, so he disregarded the feelings of the other lords and eagerly jumped in to fight for his own interests.

The lords remained silent, but Sylvia knew exactly what they were thinking. Selling green bricks might be a small profit, but the stream reservoirs supported by the green brick trade could not be ignored. Building one stream reservoir meant several thousand more mu of arable land. Arable land meant production, which meant the new agropastoral system could be further expanded. So why should Victor be the one to decide the green brick sales for every family? It was precisely because of her intimate relationship with Victor that Sylvia found it difficult to take a stance on this issue. Duke York, on the other hand, fully endorsed Victor’s sales strategy, believing that a unified green brick trade would help the family open up new opportunities.

“Baron Harnas, your fief is more than six hundred kilometers away from the Randell Fief. How do you plan to transport the green bricks? And what price are you planning to set?” Duke York asked.

“This…”

Baron Harnas was at a loss for words. Duke York continued, “How about this? I will permit you to sell your green bricks to outsiders. Who do you plan to sell them to? It seems our only neighbor to the east is Duke Nimes. Duke Nimes is on good terms with us and just lent us a large sum of money, but what were his terms? We can only purchase cattle and sheep from the Nimes duchy, and the price he gave us was a full fifty percent higher than the market rate! What kind of price do you think Duke Nimes will offer for our green bricks? You should know that actively peddling your wares and having a buyer come to your door are two completely different prices.”

“When we gained our fiefs, the family’s trade routes were also cut off. Although the Wimbledon family’s merchant association is trading our Purple Cane wine for green wheat and iron, large merchant associations must remain neutral to survive, so Marchioness Sophia cannot give us more support. We are being isolated! We need new trading partners to break free from the Kingdom’s stranglehold!”

“Viscount Randell is trading green bricks with Earl Chapman of the southern fiefs. House Sorim has fallen into decline, and their influence over the southern lords is dwindling. The southern lords’ bloodline is now a scattered mess! This is our chance to build a new trade route in the south of the Kingdom.”

“Gentlemen, permit me to be blunt, but you do not understand business!”

Duke York leaned on the table, full of imposing momentum. As the person with the sharpest business mind in the family, he had always held the family’s financial power. In the realm of trade, Duke York was the family’s authority.

“How about this. Everyone’s finances are tight. I’ll reluctantly purchase the wheat straw you have on hand. Since the straw is useless anyway, I’ll trade for it at thirty percent of the price you paid to acquire it. How about that?”

Duke York’s eyes darted around as he put on a pained expression. Unfortunately, everyone present was well-acquainted with his personality. Earl Teldrane was the first to stand and state his position: “No need! No need! The family has already waived our tribute; how could we let the family continue to support us? I can handle the cost of purchasing the wheat straw myself.”

Although they hadn’t quite figured out what value the wheat straw held, the other lords also chimed in, saying they could overcome their difficulties. And just like that, the lords of the York family reached a consensus to centralize the sale of green bricks.

After the meeting ended, Sylvia returned to Rose Manor. Not long after, the Great Knight Trisley hurried over.

Seeing Sylvia’s listless appearance, Trisley asked in surprise, “You seem a little unhappy?”

Sylvia pursed her lips into a smile. “You know what happened at the family council?”

Trisley nodded and said, “My brother just spoke with me. The plan to centralize the sale of green bricks received everyone’s support. You should be happy.”

Sylvia raised a delicate eyebrow and retorted, “Why should I be happy? Just because Victor is my lover?”

“Actually, I was against it on this matter, but Enbise was very supportive of Victor’s strategy. A long time ago, Enbise had proposed a similar idea. He once wanted to consolidate the family’s internal trade for unified purchasing and sales, but he was opposed by everyone. Now, Victor’s view coincides with his, and Enbise is eager to prove that a unified sales strategy can secure greater profits.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Trisley asked, puzzled.

“It’s not good at all!” Sylvia said with annoyance.

“I’ve suddenly realized that our relationship with Victor isn’t as close as we imagined. Victor used to be like any other vassal lord, having to sell all his produce in Black Fortress Town and purchase any needed supplies there as well. But now? Victor has been in collusion with the Chapman family for some time. If this continues, is Victor considered one of our York family line, or is he part of the southern lords’ faction? Moreover, once Victor builds his own towns, the status of Black Fortress Town will be challenged! By then, even the royal family will step in to win Victor over.”

“How did it come to this?”

Trisley was shocked to realize that the little lord who had once been completely dependent on the family’s protection was now showing signs of slipping out of their control.

Sylvia gave a bitter smile. “Self-sufficiency is the key. Before, Victor’s grain supply was insufficient, making him completely reliant on Black Fortress Town. But the agropastoral system he designed not only allowed us to recover quickly, but will also allow him to escape his grain shortage. A family that can be self-sufficient doesn’t need to rely on anyone. What’s more, to the east of the Randell Fief is the loose alliance of southern lords, an easy breakthrough point for Victor.”

“We still have the sluice gate!” Trisley said weakly.

Sylvia shot her a sideways glance and said coldly, “That is what I regret the most. I should never have granted that piece of land to Nicole. She has no resistance to Victor at all. Nicole even handed over her fief’s affairs to Victor?! Hmph! The two of them are just like husband and wife!”

Trisley paused for a moment, then teased, “Are you jealous?”

Sylvia replied languidly, “I suppose so. Don’t forget, Victor was a gift to me from Sophia.”

“I think your mindset is a bit off. Victor has no Knights, after all. Militarily, at least, he needs our protection.”

“The Wind Walk talent is far more powerful than you imagine.” Sylvia shook her head and sighed. “To be frank with you, Victor has cultivated Draven’s combat techniques and can now hold his own against a Silver Knight. In fact, in complex terrain, it’s already very difficult for a Silver Knight to threaten Victor. Even in close combat, an ordinary Knight is no match for him. If we don’t consider stamina and defense, Victor is a wind-element Great Knight!”

“Are you sure?” Trisley asked with suspicion.

Sylvia rolled her eyes. “You don’t really think our trysts are just about whispering sweet nothings, do you? I personally guided his martial arts training. He can now manifest the wind element on his weapon. An ordinary Knight can’t withstand that kind of attack.” After speaking, Sylvia appraised Trisley’s elegant face and chuckled. “Why don’t you go test him out yourself? I won’t be jealous.”

Trisley’s pretty face flushed red as she said angrily, “What nonsense are you talking about?!”

Sylvia’s expression turned serious. “In all honesty, Victor is extremely talented in both internal affairs and commerce, and he possesses the combat power of a Silver-rank. We must recognize that he is no longer that little Baron from before.”

“Then what do you plan to do?”

“Marriage, of course! It’s a noble tradition.” Sylvia smiled beautifully. “Select two female apprentice knights from the family to be Victor’s personal handmaidens. As a Viscount with his own fief, it’s not an insult to them.”

Trisley nodded silently. Nobles could marry one wife and have three personal handmaidens. Although the wife’s status was far higher than that of a personal handmaiden, the latter were also legal partners, and their children had rights to inherit the fief. Such political marriages were very common among the nobility, and the marriage itself signified a bloodline alliance. Victor marrying a female apprentice knight from the York family would be equivalent to branding him with the mark of the York family, signifying that he would become a lord of the Centaur Hills faction.

“Once Victor marries a female apprentice knight from our family, I will be very eager to see him make a breakthrough among the southern lords.”

“What if he’s unwilling?”

Sylvia’s eyebrows shot up as she snapped, “If he dares to disagree, I’ll invite him to be a guest at Rose Manor—and he’ll stay until he agrees!”

Chapter 189: You’re Too Slow!

Having decided to bring Victor into the York family’s sphere of influence ahead of schedule, Sylvia was in high spirits. She said to Trisley, “You came to see me. Is there something you need?”

“That’s right. The Queen of Sus’s messenger just delivered a personal letter from Her Majesty Aileiyano.” Trisley took a parchment scroll from an exquisite ivory box.

“Cynthia?”

Sylvia unrolled the scroll and began to read it carefully.

Trisley watched as Sylvia’s expression shifted from a frown to a smile. After a moment, she couldn’t help but ask, “What does Her Majesty’s letter say? Is there any news about the Radiant Knights and the Sasan Empire’s attack on the Northern Wildlands?”

Sylvia handed the parchment scroll to Trisley and said lazily, “See for yourself.”

Trisley took the scroll and read the letter.

My dearest cousin Sylvia:

I have received your letter. I should have replied sooner, but some recent events have caused a delay.

Not long ago, my most beloved Marquess, Clovis Wimbledon, was the victim of a shameful assassination and has tragically passed away. The loss of my love has left me devastated with grief, as if all the color has drained from the world.

Clovis awakened his Moon Elf bloodline at the age of ten. From that day on, he was always by my side. I personally taught him court etiquette and academics, and I witnessed his transformation from a graceful youth into an elegant young nobleman. He was a master of poetry, painting, song, and sculpture. He was a brilliant artist, an elf among men, and yet so delicate and fragile. I cannot imagine what kind of deranged monster could bring themself to strike down my Clovis!

After the incident, I had all of Clovis’s guards and attendants taken into custody and personally participated in their interrogation. That day, Clovis had gone for a walk by the shores of Lake Sudal when the assassin struck from the shadows. After killing Clovis, the assassin successfully escaped, and those foolish guards failed to prevent any of it. Among Clovis’s guards were four apprentice knights. According to them, the assassin was incredibly fast. They couldn’t keep up with him at all, nor did they get a clear look at his face. They could only confirm that he was male and most likely a Ferocious Warrior.

I originally thought one of my other paramours had assassinated poor Clovis out of jealousy, but after a thorough investigation, I found that things are not so simple! It is rumored that before Clovis was assassinated, two nobles in the Kingdom of Borea also met with misfortune. Like Clovis, they were both nobles of the Moon Elf bloodline. I sent an envoy to the Kingdom of Borea’s Council to verify this, but their attitude was intriguing. Not only did they not launch a full-scale manhunt for the killer, but they actually tried to downplay the incident’s impact. In my opinion, the great nobles of Borea are inextricably linked to this, and the Religious Inquisition is also paying attention. Paladin Constantine suspects the assassination is connected to the Wizards of Red Port.

Whatever secrets may be hidden here, one thing is certain: this is an assassination campaign targeting all nobles of the Moon Elf bloodline!

My dearest cousin Sylvia, I hear your little paramour is also a noble of elven blood. I’m delighted we share the same taste, but I must remind you to dispatch Knights for his personal protection. Apprentice knights will not be able to stop that assassin. Although those lordly Knights are all arrogant fellows who disdain acting as guards and lack the necessary patience, I’m sure you have your ways of making them bow to your will, don’t you?

If you find that difficult, please send your little sweetheart to my royal palace. I will certainly not make the same mistake again. In fact, I have already invited other nobles of elven blood to be my guests in the Kingdom of Sus, so as to better protect these ancient and noble blood-kin of the elves.

Oh, and if you do manage to catch that assassin, please hand him over to me. I will let him rot away slowly in agony to soothe my broken heart.

As for the movements of the Radiant Knights, the intelligence I have is also very limited. I only know that the Radiant Knights joined forces with the Sasan Empire to raid a centaur clan. The specifics of the battle are unknown, but His Holiness the Pope seems to support the Radiant Knights in this operation. I hope this news is of some help to you.

Cynthia Aileiyano

February, Radiant Year 7567

Trisley let out a soft breath, rolled up the scroll, and said, “Victor is in danger. We should send men to protect him.”

Sylvia massaged her forehead and groaned, “My dear Trisley, don’t you see? That hussy Cynthia is deliberately downplaying the important parts and focusing on the trivial. What we want to know is what the Radiant Knights are doing, but she only mentioned it at the end of the letter. And she didn’t say a single word about the money I asked to borrow from her!”

Trisley looked sheepish. Sylvia, however, said angrily, “Cynthia spends all day scheming with her ‘lover’s diplomacy.’ What she means is that I should send Victor to her. Otherwise, I can forget about getting any concrete intelligence, let alone borrowing any money! That woman is despicable!”

You’re not much different, always giving away the family’s female apprentice knights to be someone’s personal handmaiden. Typical Sus style! Trisley complained silently, but said aloud, “Aren’t you worried about Viscount Randell’s safety?”

“Hmph! Victor is not one of those elven-blooded nobles who can be easily manipulated. Anyone who dares to underestimate him will pay the price!” Sylvia thought for a moment, then added, “Send someone to warn Victor. Tell him to watch out for an assassin. If he is attacked, he should try to take the assassin alive. Cynthia wants to use him to negotiate with the Boreans, and I’m quite interested in that myself.”

—————————————————————

At that moment, the sun had just set, and the sky had not yet grown completely dark. Ace lay silently in a thicket by the roadside, the fallen leaves on his body and the shadows of the bushes his best camouflage. Ace had been lying in wait, perfectly still, for a full three hours, just for his prey to appear.

Two months ago, Ace had arrived in the Randell Fief. But assassinating a feudal lord was no simple task, especially since he currently had no intelligence support. However, Ace had patience. He had taken a job in a village as a freeman hired farmhand.

Life in Randell Fief was full of novelty. Here, wild boars were raised in pens, while cattle and sheep were free-range. Ace’s job was to cut grass to feed the pigs, clean the pigsty, and collect manure, for which he earned three Copper Sols a day. The work, though a bit dirty, wasn’t too strenuous. Ace even had time to tend to a private plot.

It was the first time Ace had ever heard of something like a ‘private plot.’ The Villagers told him that in Randell Fief, freemen could be allotted one fen of land, while subjects were given three. These plots could not be used for crops, only vegetables, and all the produce belonged to the individual, with no tribute to be paid. Ace had no interest in growing vegetables, so he let another villager tend to his plot. The villager was overjoyed and, in return, took care of Ace’s dinner every night.

Just like that, Ace settled down in Randell Fief. Breakfast here was free, and lunch was only one Copper Sol for porridge, beans, and two roasted ground-potatoes. For an extra Copper Sol, you could even get a bowl of meat soup. But the village rules were also very strict. No one was allowed to relieve themselves wherever they pleased. The punishment was a whipping, and if you didn’t change your ways, you’d be expelled. No one wanted to be expelled. Ace had to admit that life here was much better than in other fiefs. In Randell Fief, both freemen and subjects referred to Viscount Randell as “our lord” or “our master,” even though many, like Ace, had never even seen the man.

Viscount Randell was undoubtedly a benevolent lord, deeply loved by his people. But that could not shake Ace’s determination to assassinate him. In Ace’s eyes, the arrogant nature of the Nobles would never change. They all deserved to die!

Ace had been feeding pigs for two months and had figured out everything he needed to know, but he still hadn’t seen Viscount Randell. He wasn’t anxious, though. He knew the lord’s Season of Wind inspection was about to begin. Viscount Randell would surely inspect this village personally, and that would be his chance to strike!

This afternoon, the Viscount arrived in the village with twelve guards. The characteristics of an elven-blooded noble were too obvious; Ace recognized Viscount Randell at a glance. While the Viscount was inspecting the fields, Ace quickly ran out of the village and hid in the bushes by the road. This was the ambush point Ace had prepared!

Ace pressed himself flat against the ground as the rhythmic sound of hooves reached his ears.

Here they come!

The sound of hooves grew closer. Ace tightened his grip on the adamantine dagger in his hand, his heart as calm as still water.

Ace had started preparing a month ago. He had hidden his weapon at the ambush point and stashed Purple Gold Coins, food, and clothes along his escape route. The ambush point and escape route were carefully chosen. This was the only road to Rivermouth Village, and across from it were several low hills. Once the Viscount entered the ambush range, Ace would rush out and kill him, then use the hilly terrain to shake off the pursuing cavalry. After that, he would cross the Blackwater River, retrieve his stashed supplies, change his clothes, and flee the Randell Fief. It was the kind of assassination at which Ace had never failed.

However, the hoofbeats stopped twenty meters away. Ace’s heart tightened. Then, he heard Viscount Randell’s voice.

“Go take a look.”

Buried in the dead leaves, Ace couldn’t see what was happening outside. It wasn’t until he heard extremely faint footsteps just five meters away that he finally knew he had been discovered. But Ace didn’t move. His hand remained steady. As the footsteps drew closer, Ace made his move.

Dead leaves and twigs swirled into the air, obscuring the guards’ vision. Ace took the chance to stab at his opponent’s chest and abdomen with his sharp dagger, his movements as swift as lightning.

Ace had no intention of escaping. He had learned that Viscount Randell had no Knights under his command; the most powerful warrior in the viscounty, Lord Narsen, was, like him, merely a Ferocious Warrior. And even if he were facing a Knight, Ace was confident he could escape. Because he was fast!

He didn’t know how he had been exposed, but it didn’t matter. Killing two guards would only take an extra breath’s time. Another breath would be enough to kill Viscount Randell twenty meters away. Three breaths later, he would already be gone, likely before the other guards had even reacted.

But the two guards shattered Ace’s fantasy. Two sharp glints of steel struck at Ace’s vitals—decisive, vicious, making no attempt to parry or dodge, and just as swift as lightning! The moment Ace pierced one of them, he would be run through himself! Unwilling to trade his life for a guard’s, Ace could only evade.

Ace twisted his body, dodging the guards’ thrusts. But before he could even straighten up, a sharp sword light slashed down at his neck. Ace jerked backward to avoid the killing blow, retreating several steps, but the blade followed him relentlessly, like a shadow stuck to his bones, pinning him down and leaving him no room to retreat. Left with no choice, Ace could only parry his opponent’s attack with his dagger, losing his chance to flee.

Ace cursed silently. Though these two guards were fast, they were still no match for him. One on one, Ace was confident he could kill either of them. But their teamwork was seamless, and they fought with no regard for their own lives. Killing them unscathed was impossible, and if he was injured, he could forget about escaping. Now, the only way out was to lure them into the woods, unleash his secret technique, and flee.

“Two more of you, go. I want him alive!”

Two more guards joined the fight. To his despair, Ace discovered that the new guards were just as powerful. What about the remaining guards?

Ace knew it would be difficult to escape today. He decided he would take Viscount Randell down with him!

The Viscount wanted him alive. This gave Ace an opportunity. The four guards stopped using their refined iron shortswords and instead engaged him with their scabbards. Ace let out a ferocious roar. The muscles all over his body began to vibrate at high speed, his pace skyrocketing. He took three vicious blows from the scabbards on his body, and his humming adamantine dagger sliced through a guard’s refined iron mail and hardened leather inner armor, causing a spray of blood to erupt from the man’s body. Using this opening, Ace broke through the encirclement and lunged straight for Viscount Randell, ten meters away.

It wouldn’t even take him a full breath to cross ten meters. With a flash of a gray shadow, he was before the Viscount. Without a second thought, his dagger became a hazy blur, stabbing straight for the Viscount’s heart.

The power of Ace’s explosive secret technique was astounding, as proven by how easily it had just torn through the guard’s refined iron mail. Viscount Randell was wearing a nobleman’s hunting attire, not armor. Ace could already see the horrifying wound the adamantine dagger would gouge in the Viscount’s chest, how his heart would be torn to shreds!

The humming dagger struck the spot where Viscount Randell’s chest should have been, but there was nothing there. The Viscount was like a phantom; the moment he was struck, he vanished.

“You’re too slow!”

The Viscount’s voice sounded right beside his ear. Ace stabbed backward reflexively. Blood splattered, but when he turned, he found the Viscount holding the adamantine dagger, smiling at him. Ace looked down and saw three severed fingers on the ground. Blood was dripping from his own hand, and his dagger was gone.

“You were hiding in the bushes with your heart beating so loudly, do you take me for a deaf person?”

“In my eyes, you’re as slow as a snail!”

“Seize him! Send him to Hill Camp.”

A heavy blow landed behind his ear, and Ace plunged into darkness.

Chapter 190: Azure Blade

Randell Fief, morning.

Two tall, sturdy draft horses pulled a heavy carriage, galloping down the road. Victor sat inside the comfortable cabin, carefully reading the parchment letter in his hand.

Earlier that morning, a messenger from the York family had brought a handwritten letter from Sylvia. Sylvia informed Victor that three nobles with elven blood had recently been assassinated. She said that if he too were to encounter an assassin, he should hand the perpetrator over to the York family alive, and she would send someone to investigate the true culprit behind the attacks.

Sylvia was the person who knew Victor’s strength best, but she had no idea that he had already captured the assassin five days ago. Since Victor had no intention of handing the assassin over to the York family, this letter had effectively become the assassin’s death warrant.

The convoy sped toward Hill Camp, the sound of hooves like thunder and wheels rumbling. The guards at the camp saw the alchemical crow’s message from a distance. They quickly lowered the heavy drawbridge, and the draft horses pulled the carriage across it. In short order, the convoy came to a stop in front of the barracks.

Victor stepped down from the carriage and instructed Reno, who was beside him, “Bring that assassin over.” With that, Victor walked straight into the barracks.

A moment later, several Alchemical militia members, using restraint poles with nooses locked around Ace’s neck, dragged him before Victor.

The assassin looked somewhat haggard. His build and appearance were ordinary, the type you would lose in a crowd. But who would have thought that this seemingly average killer was actually a powerful Ferocious Human?

When Ace fought the Lithe Ape militiaman, Victor had observed his elemental attributes. His Physique was 14, Spirit 10, Perception 18, and Life 15. This was the highest Perception attribute Victor had ever seen in a Ferocious Human.

The Perception attribute corresponded to the concentration of the wind element, representing speed, agility, and the five senses. Ace was indeed faster than the Lithe Ape militiaman, but his agility was inferior to the militiaman who cultivated a Mystic Form. If Victor hadn’t demanded a live capture, Ace would have already died in the Lithe Ape militiaman’s counterattack.

However, Ace’s explosive secret technique had made Victor’s eyes light up. The rapid vibration of his muscles unleashed immense destructive power and speed. Before the high-frequency vibrations of his adamantine dagger, the refined iron chainmail and rattan-hide inner armor were like paper. Although the Lithe Ape militiaman had managed to contract his muscles in time to avoid being disemboweled, he was still severely wounded. The horrific injury was a ghastly sight.

When he unleashed his full power, Ace completely outclassed the Lithe Ape militiaman in both speed and killing power, but it was still not enough to pose a threat to Victor. Ace’s attack was like a fired crossbow bolt—swift, but without any variation. This was because his judgment couldn’t keep up with his speed, and as a result, Victor easily disarmed him. Of course, if Ace had been a Knight, Victor wouldn’t have dared to try a trick like disarming him bare-handed; he would have had to draw his Dual-Silver adamantine shortsword and kill him, or create distance.

Victor had captured Ace alive because he wanted to interrogate him about his backer, but he was also very interested in Ace’s explosive secret technique. Victor believed this technique could compensate for the Lithe Ape militiamen’s lack of killing power. Ace had been quite forthcoming, quickly revealing the mastermind behind the assassination attempt on Victor. But Victor couldn’t possibly trust his words so easily, so he ordered his men to smear Fishmen moss on Ace’s body.

The moss from a Fishman’s body could make a Fishman itch to the point of madness, and it had the same effect on humans. Ace couldn’t bear such torture and poured out everything he knew. Besides the intelligence, the adamantine dagger, and the secret art, Victor also dug up 196 Purple Gold Coins, worth 170,000 Gold Sols. This assassin didn’t just deliver his own head, he delivered intelligence, equipment, a secret art, and even money. Victor really wanted to award him the “Courier of the Year” prize.

“Mr. Ace, I just received a letter. Its contents confirm what you’ve told me. You were indeed not lying,” Victor said amiably.

“My lord, you’re preparing to hand me over, aren’t you?” Ace twisted his neck and said with a sneer.

“You seem to be looking forward to it?”

“Haha, of course I am. I look forward to you nobles bashing each other’s brains out!” Ace said viciously.

Victor smiled and said, “I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed. Once Raymond Peter’s assassination of a noble is exposed, there will be negotiations, punishments, concessions, and compromises. The one thing there won’t be is war. Raymond Peter won’t even have to die.”

“So this is nobility?! You’d even sell out your own kin for profit! It makes me sick! Ptooey! Ugh—” Ace spat a mouthful of bloody saliva on the ground. The Crouching Ox Militiaman immediately tightened the ox-tendon noose around his neck, the force of it making Ace’s eyes roll back in his head.

“Loosen it a bit. Don’t strangle Mr. Ace to death.”

“Hah… hah…” Ace gasped for breath, then looked up at Victor and said, “And you? You won’t let the person who tried to kill you go, right?”

“Why did Raymond Peter want to assassinate me?” Victor asked, his expression unchanging.

“I’ve answered that question countless times! I don’t know!” Ace screamed himself hoarse.

Victor nodded. Under the torment of the Fishmen moss, Ace had even confessed about his sister; it was unlikely he was still hiding anything, at least not to protect his employer.

“Raymond tried to kill me, and I certainly won’t let him go. But I need to understand his motive.”

“Hehe, I knew it. You nobles can use the lives of your relatives as bargaining chips, but you would never spare someone who tried to murder you,” Ace cackled. “Let me go. I can serve you, help you take out Raymond Peter. How about it?”

Victor shook his head and chuckled. “Mr. Ace, if you have nothing else to confess, I’ll send you on your way now.”

“You’re going to kill me?” Ace’s eyes widened in disbelief. “If you kill me, you’ll have no witness. How will you ever take down the Peter family? They’re one of the most powerful families in the Kingdom of Borea.”

“To take down the Peter family, you don’t need evidence, you need strength,” Victor said coolly. “By the same token, you tried to kill me, so I’ll kill you. That’s fair.”

“Fair?! When a noble tramples a commoner to death, they only need to pay a few dozen Silver Sols. When a commoner resists a noble, they get hanged. And you talk to me about fairness! If there was any fairness, Alice wouldn’t have been trampled to death by that noble’s son,” Ace roared madly.

This was the first time Victor had seen a commoner challenge the noble class. He thought for a moment and said, “Clearly, the Radiant Church established the order of the human world. Thousands of years ago, the Church defined the relationships between the clergy, the nobles, and the commoners. You can think it’s unfair, but that’s just your own opinion. Order has never been decided by fairness, but by violence.”

“If ten thousand people have ten thousand different ideas of fairness, what then? In the end, it comes down to fists. And so, a rule for making rules emerged: the one with the most power has the final say.”

“Violence brought order, and order strengthened violence. Once an order is formed, not even the ones who established it can reverse it. I unintentionally challenged the order and was nearly crushed. What right do you have to stand here and clamor?”

“So we commoners are supposed to let you so-called nobles trample all over us as you please? Why should I abide by this damn order? I’m going to kill all of you filthy nobles!” Ace’s face was contorted with rage. He tried to lunge at Victor, but the Crouching Ox Militiaman held the restraint pole firmly, and he could only struggle futilely on the spot.

“You’ve seen the arrogant side of the nobility, but you haven’t seen their courage and responsibility. When the Ant-men invaded the Centaur Hills, the noble Knights and the clergy stood at the very front, while the commoners could only tremble in fear behind the city walls,” Victor said coldly. “In truth, order is not set in stone; it also strives for relative fairness. Only in this way can the order continue. The ancestor of the Sooth royal family was a commoner, and most of the clergy also come from commoner backgrounds. Commoners aspire to become vassals or clergy; they submit to the order and in turn become the force that maintains it. If you want to use violence to overthrow the order, then you must accept the order’s backlash. There’s nothing to complain about.”

“If you’re going to kill me, then kill me! Why are you spouting so much nonsense?” Ace roared.

Victor sighed. “I’m saying this for my own benefit. I’ve ordered the slaughter of over a hundred freemen, and my guards’ hands are stained with the blood of their own kind. Yet my subjects support me and deeply respect those guards. I was also perplexed by this, but today I’ve found the answer. Those freemen were challenging the order, while we were maintaining it.”

“Avenging a loved one is admirable. If I were you, I would strive to become a noble or a member of the clergy, and then settle scores with that noble’s son. At the very least, I would gather a force and assassinate my enemy, not take my anger out on the innocent.”

“Ace, you are very talented, able to comprehend a powerful combat technique from carving. If you were simply an assassin, I might have taken you in. Unfortunately, hatred has twisted your mind. Since you wanted to kill me, I will eliminate you!”

A breeze began to circle Victor’s palm, swirling from slow to fast, gradually taking on a deep blue hue. Finally, fine sparks of electricity appeared within it.

“The combat technique you created is quite good. The high-speed vibration produces terrifying armor-piercing capabilities, but my body cannot withstand such vibrations. However, the wind element I manifest has no such limitations. High-speed vibration not only multiplies the power of the wind element but also adds an electrical effect. This was originally Draven’s technique, the Azure Moon. I now call it the Azure Blade.”

“Oh, and by the way, thanks for the delivery.”

The deep blue wind blade, shimmering with fine sparks of electricity, shrieked as it struck Ace’s chest. The berserk wind element tore a large hole clean through his tough, leather-like body. The wind blade continued for several more meters before gradually dissipating into the air.

Ace’s body dangled from the restraint pole. The shocking wound was charred black, and not a single drop of blood flowed from it.

“Drag it out and feed it to the Fishmen.”

The Crouching Ox Militiaman carried Ace’s body out of the room. After using a light breeze to disperse the nauseating smell of burnt flesh, Victor let out a long breath.

Victor’s wind element affinity had improved significantly, its radius increasing from the initial two meters to 2.2 meters. Sylvia believed that practicing the Azure Moon had further enhanced Victor’s bloodline ability, but Victor had a faint feeling it was due to the Golden Toad Mystic Form. It was during his cultivation of the Golden Toad Mystic Form that he had awakened his Blind Sense, and now its radius had also expanded to 2.2 meters. In contrast, the effects of practicing the Azure Moon were not as obvious.

According to Sword Saint Draven’s description, the Azure Moon was formed from the wind element and could appear and vanish at will in the void beside him, slicing enemies within thirty meters. Victor could manifest the wind element, but he could only attach it to his body or weapons. Even if he threw it, it would only travel a distance of ten meters, and its killing power was pathetic. When used on a wild boar three meters away, the boar would only grunt twice. Victor had discovered that the wind element had a property of rapid dissipation; the farther it was from his body, the weaker it became. When attached to a weapon, however, it became incomparably sharp, piercing through refined iron armor with a single thrust. This had given Victor the ability to engage in close combat with a Knight, but it was still very dangerous, as a Knight’s counterattack could be fatal.

The emergence of the Azure Blade changed this awkward situation. Although a Ferocious Warrior with 14 Physique could not withstand the savage Azure Blade, the technique also had clear disadvantages. Firstly, the Azure Blade could not change the wind element’s property of decay, giving it an effective range of no more than ten meters. A Knight’s Physique was typically over twenty, and with their sturdy adamantine armor, the Azure Blade was fundamentally unable to inflict effective damage. Secondly, the longer the Azure Blade’s charging time, the greater its power, but who would give you the opportunity to charge up a major attack in a fierce battle?

Victor planned to use the Azure Blade in close combat. The high-speed vibrating wind element would grant his adamantine Dual-Silver shortswords armor-piercing and sharpness properties. The vibrating blades could create horrific wounds, and the electrical sparks had a paralyzing effect. As long as his opponent was stunned for even a moment, they wouldn’t be able to lay a finger on Victor. This was why he had named it the Azure Blade.

The concept for the Azure Blade was thanks to Ace, but Ace had to die!

Through interrogation, Victor had learned that Ace had killed his contact in Vistock. This meant that Raymond Peter, or Duke Peter behind him, had already terminated the assassination mission. Ace’s attempt on Victor’s life was entirely his own doing. For this reason alone, Victor would not spare him. Besides, Ace already knew so many of his secrets.

Furthermore, Victor suspected that the initial Wizard was also sent by Raymond Peter, but there was a discrepancy: the timeline didn’t add up. From what Ace had confessed, Raymond issued the assassination order after the little Baron was murdered by the Wizard. But regardless of the real story, Raymond Peter was a lead. If Victor wanted to follow this lead, he couldn’t afford to alert the enemy.

Sylvia wanted a live captive. She intended to use him as a bargaining chip with other great nobles to fight for benefits, not to uphold justice for Victor. Victor was well aware of this. If he handed Ace over to Sylvia, Victor would be exposed to the Peter family’s sight, and this lead would be broken. Only by killing Ace could Victor hide in the shadows and wait for an opportunity to act.

What was worrying were those Wizards with their strange methods. Assuming the Peter family was truly connected to Wizards, there was no guarantee a Wizard wouldn’t be able to sense Ace’s whereabouts. Victor had to be on guard against Duke Peter dispatching a Wizard to silence him.

Victor composed himself and ordered Reno, “We’re going to the Church. I need to see Father Miller.”

Chapter 191: To Believe or Not to Believe

Father Miller’s Church was situated on a small hill.

The Church was built of green brick, covering an area of just over two hundred square meters—smaller than the prayer hall of an ordinary church. Still, compared to the small wooden cabin from a few months ago, it was much more magnificent.

Though the Church was small, it had everything it needed: a prayer hall, a confessional, a storeroom, and the priest’s bedroom. With its green bricks, black tiles, high steeple, and thick walls, it didn’t look shabby, but rather exquisite.

This Church was, in fact, built with Aid from Victor. Besides constructing the Church, Victor also donated five wild boars and a small amount of black bread to Father Miller every month and provided him with church attendants. Victor’s good deeds not only earned him Father Miller’s gratitude but also the respect of the tens of thousands of laborers. This was something Victor hadn’t anticipated; he had originally only wanted to curry favor with Father Miller. It was also a testament to how high the Church’s prestige was among the common people, and how deep its roots ran, making it almost unshakable. Victor felt a vague sense of unease about this. Without the Church’s approval, his plans for large-scale army operations would be nothing but a pipe dream. Fortunately, Victor’s hypothetical enemy was the swarming Ant-men, and when it came to resisting invasions from other races, the Church had always spared no effort in supporting the lords.

In the open areas on either side of the Church, many sheds had been erected. This was where Father Miller presided over the distribution of alms. It was nearing dusk, and the able-bodied laborers were about to finish their work and eat. Dozens of young attendants lit bonfires outside the sheds. They tossed chopped-up boar bones and meat scraps into large pots along with wild celery, soldier beans, and round melons to cook. Even from a distance, Victor could smell the aroma of the meat broth.

This meat and bone soup was not for everyone; it was provided only for young children, pregnant women, and the sick. Although the Church was a large and wealthy institution, it wasn’t foolish enough to distribute food to everyone. In fact, the Church’s charity followed a strict system. In times of peace and without disaster, the Church did not provide for anyone over the age of twelve. But if many people were truly starving to death, the Church would then high-handedly hold the local lord accountable. Left with no choice, lords would often donate grain to the head priest on one hand while driving away the slackers on the other. In return, the head priest would offer the lord some conveniences.

Normally, the Church’s alms should be covered by the Church itself, but Father Miller was unable to apply for supplies. His charity work was entirely supported by Victor. When the young attendants saw the “great patron” Victor approaching with his Guards, they all came forward to bow.

“Where is Father Miller?” Victor asked one of the young attendants.

“My lord, the Father is in the back making potions. I’ll go get him right away,” the young attendant said with the utmost respect.

“No need. Just take me to him,” Victor instructed.

Seeing their companion leading Viscount Randell, the other young attendants all showed looks of envy. These youths were all selected by Victor from among the children of freemen to serve as Father Miller’s church attendants.

Church attendants were assistants recruited by the head priest from among the children of the faithful, mostly boys and girls between the ages of twelve and sixteen.

It was the duty of church attendants to assist the priest in maintaining the Church’s operations. They usually performed various chores, such as cleaning, repairing the church, maintaining order, and distributing food and medicine. These attendants received no pay but were given free food and clothing. The priest would teach them to read, at least enough to read the scripture and copy texts. Church attendants also served as assistants when the priest treated the sick, so they also learned about herbs and medicine.

Each year, the head priest could recommend two church attendants for advanced study at a Monastery. Once they passed the Monastery’s examination, they would become true members of the clergy. The poor were eager to send their children to the Church to serve as attendants. Even if they didn’t receive a letter of recommendation from the priest, they could still learn valuable knowledge, which would make it easy to find a well-paying job in the future.

Father Miller had arrived at his post alone and had done everything himself. For a full month, he had not recruited any assistants. When Victor learned that Father Miller could not afford to support attendants, he recruited them for him from his fief. The freemen spread the news with cheers and jubilation, while the members of the work point system were indifferent. The children of Vassal families would rarely serve as church attendants, even though they were also of freeman status. In fact, becoming a Vassal or a church attendant represented two different paths for commoners: one led straight to the Nobility, while the other led to the clergy.

Although being a church attendant was the starting point to becoming a member of the clergy, it also depended on the head priest’s influence. Over its seven thousand years of development, the Church had become riddled with internal factions. The relatives, children, mentors, and students of the clergy had long formed various complex relationships, making the Church’s structure bloated and inefficient. If not for the Radiant Code established by the first Pope, Victor suspected the Church would have collapsed long ago. Even though the Radiant Code was inviolable, and any clergyman who dared to cross the red line would be cast down into the dust, it was still exceedingly difficult for a commoner priest like Miller, with no background and no connections, to recommend a few attendants for clerical studies.

These young attendants were well aware of their situation. Although they could not become Vassals, the knowledge they learned would allow them to open an herbalist shop in the Randell Fief and diagnose and treat people’s injuries, which was a good alternative path. Therefore, they all wanted to leave a good impression on Victor.

The attendant carefully led Victor to the back of the Church. He was just about to call for Father Miller when Victor stopped him.

“You may leave.”

The attendant bowed and retreated. Victor walked toward Father Miller, who was focused on preparing potions.

A shed was also set up behind the small church. Several church attendants were bustling about under the shed, sorting various herbs, grinding them, extracting their juices, and placing them into different containers. An old man in a coarse linen robe was mixing the medicinal juices into smaller pottery jars. This old man was Father Miller.

Father Miller was plain in appearance, short and gaunt, his face full of wrinkles. His appearance and demeanor were entirely that of an old farmer, but the way he mixed potions inspired awe. Each time Father Miller finished preparing a small jar of potion, he would wave his hand over its mouth. A platinum-gold radiance shone from his fingertips into the jar. Then he would move on to the next jar, while a young female attendant beside him sealed the jar’s mouth with a wooden stopper with a pious attitude.

The Alchemical humans under Victor’s command could identify nearly three thousand types of plants and could concoct over a hundred different potions with various effects, far more potent than ordinary potions. However, compared to the potions prepared by Father Miller, they were still far inferior. Furthermore, Alchemical humans could not prepare medicines to treat diseases, as they had no need for them. Father Miller, on the other hand, used only a few of the most common herbs to prepare his potions, yet their effects were nearly all-encompassing. The difference probably lay in the application of divine arts.

Victor stood outside the shed for a while. The few attendants preparing medicine all bowed to him, but Father Miller remained completely oblivious. Victor cleared his throat and was the first to greet him, “Father Miller, good day.”

Father Miller looked up with a blank expression. Upon seeing Victor, the old priest’s surprise was mixed with a trace of awkwardness. “Lord Randell, you’ve come. Oh, Lord Randell, good day.”

Miller was originally an honest farmer. When facing Nobles, he was not as at ease as other clergy, but rather somewhat timid and subservient, and he would never bring up the Lord of Radiance. Victor had known Miller for some time and had an understanding of his temperament, so he was no longer surprised by it.

“Father Miller, it’s only been a few days, and you’ve already made so many potions.”

In a corner of the shed, over a hundred small, sealed pottery jars were stacked up—all finished potions. Father Miller glanced at the jars, then at the herbs on the other side, and said with embarrassment, “My lord, I have indeed made a bit much recently, but I assure you the herbs were gathered from different areas. Their numbers will recover by next year.”

“It’s fine. The herbs you’ve used are less than what the wild boars have trampled. The number of wild boars has already been greatly reduced, so harvesting these herbs won’t affect the fief,” Victor said with a reassuring smile, then asked, “Father, there are still plenty of potions left from the last batch. Why are you making so many more?”

“That’s good, that’s good.”

The old priest let out a sigh of relief and explained, “The harvest is here, which means the cold Season of Water is not far off. I’m making more potions to help the weaker faithful get through the difficult Season of Water.”

With over ten thousand people gathered here engaged in arduous labor, injuries and deaths were inevitable. Moreover, they were short on food and clothing. As the season of decay approached, the old and weak would be the first to be eliminated. Victor could do nothing about this; he had to first ensure the stability and well-being of his own subjects. As for the survival of these people, Victor had already done his best. But it seemed the old priest was thinking of leaving, which was not what Victor wanted to see. Miller was his intended head priest.

“Father Miller, the Randell Fief is about to have a great harvest. I would like to invite you to preside over the Randell Fief’s harvest festival. What do you think?” Victor asked tentatively.

Presiding over the harvest festival was the duty of the fief’s chief priest. During the celebration, the priest would guide the people to thank the Lord of Radiance for his gifts, thus strengthening their faith in the Lord of Radiance. This was also an important achievement for a head priest. Miller had never presided over a harvest festival before, and Victor’s invitation made him a little excited, but then he said dejectedly, “Well, I’m afraid I can’t make that decision. I’m only here temporarily to oversee the Church’s affairs here. The Church will soon send one of my brothers to take over for me.”

Just as I thought!

Victor frowned and said, “The people here need you. Other priests wouldn’t use divine arts… hmm.”

The Church forbade priests from misusing divine arts, which essentially meant they were not allowed to provide free treatment. But Victor had often seen Miller use divine arts to heal the common people, and he even used them to enhance the effects of his potions. This was definitely a serious violation.

Miller gave an awkward smile. Victor decided to be direct. “The population of the Randell Fief is about to exceed seven thousand. According to custom, I can apply to the Church for a head priest for the fief. I would like to ask you to be the head priest of the Randell Fief. I will find a way to persuade the Church to agree. What do you think?”

Miller was silent for a moment, then shook his head. “Let’s forget it. I’m only a second-rank priest. My abilities are limited, and I cannot fulfill the duties of redemption. These faithful need a capable head priest, one who can apply for more Aid. You and Baroness Fynikos also need the Church’s support.”

Victor had originally wanted to talk to Miller about Wizards, but he hadn’t expected Father Miller to be planning to leave. Seeing his prize about to slip through his fingers, Victor grew a little anxious.

“Father Miller, forgive my bluntness. You have a noble soul. If you want to help more people, you should strive for a higher position instead of letting other priests reap the fruits of your labor.”

“My lord has a point,” Miller nodded in agreement, but before Victor could rejoice, he added, “But I still cannot agree to your request.”

What is a saint? One who disregards personal gain and loss and holds fast to their convictions—that is a saint, and Miller was a saint! Victor finally understood. If he didn’t take care of these ten thousand-plus people, Miller would eventually bid farewell to the Randell Fief. But what would happen if another priest came? Priests were not commoners without knowledge or backing; they were scholars and extraordinary individuals, with a powerful organization behind them. The Alchemical humans, who had no parents, no spouses, no children, no desires, and extraordinary abilities, would inevitably attract a priest’s attention. Unless the population of the Randell Fief grew large enough to conceal the traces of the alchemical creatures, there would be big trouble.

Miller was from a peasant background, had limited knowledge, and held a low position in the Church. His reports to his superiors would either be shelved or thrown into the trash. He was the perfect candidate to oversee the Church’s affairs in the Randell Fief!

It seemed there was no way out without making a sacrifice!

Victor touched the Purple Gold Coin in his pocket, which had yet to warm up, and said through gritted teeth, “These people are subjects of Baroness Fynikos. I am an ally of the York family, and I will not stand by and watch an ally’s subjects go without food and clothing. That should be enough, shouldn’t it?”

“My lord, I heard that you and the York family are both quite poor… How do you plan to manage?” the old priest asked in a small voice.

“I have my own private savings!” Victor said, his mouth filled with a bitter taste, yet he struck a cool pose.

“My lord, you are truly a generous and benevolent lord. The Lord of Radiance will protect you!”

“Shouldn’t it be, ‘May the great Lord of Radiance protect you’?”

“Uh… I think the Lord of Radiance will definitely protect a benevolent and generous lord!”

Victor sighed and decided to talk to Father Miller about the Wizards.

“Father, have you ever seen a Wizard?”

“Never!” Miller said emphatically.

“I once saw a Wizard being Purified in Black Fortress Town. I’m very worried these children of Devils will harm my subjects. Does the Church have any preventive measures for this?” Victor asked expectantly.

Miller said, “One can perform the Demon-Detecting Prayer to identify Wizards.”

“Can you perform this ritual?”

“I can! But performing the Demon-Detecting Prayer requires a lot of White crystals, and if a Wizard doesn’t use their sorcery, the prayer cannot distinguish them from ordinary people. Therefore, we only perform the Demon-Detecting Prayer ceremony after discovering traces of witchcraft.”

Victor was greatly disappointed. Unwilling to give up, he asked, “Aren’t there any other ways to identify them?”

“There really are no other identification methods, at least none that I know of.” Miller shook his head, thought for a moment, and continued, “However…”

Victor quickly asked, “However what?”

“However, there is a way to defend against witchcraft!”

Victor was overjoyed. He couldn’t be bothered to complain about the old priest’s dramatic pause and hastily asked, “What is it?”

“My lord, do you have a Purple Gold Coin?” Miller looked around and asked mysteriously.

Is this blackmail? Victor complained internally, but he still obediently handed over a Purple Gold Coin.

The old priest took the Purple Gold Coin, wiped it back and forth with his sleeve, examined it carefully, then bit it. Finally, he asked sheepishly, “It’s real, right? This is the first time I’ve seen a Purple Gold Coin. It tastes different from a Gold Sol.”

“It’s real!” Victor said expressionlessly.

“As long as it’s real.” With that, Miller returned the Purple Gold Coin to Victor.

“My lord, as long as you carry this Purple Gold Coin with you, Wizards won’t be able to harm you!”

“Why?” Victor asked, stunned.

“My lord, you see, the front of the Purple Gold Coin is engraved with a high mountain, and in the upper right corner of the mountain, there is a sun. This mountain is the Radiant Holy Mountain, and the sun is our Lord’s divine kingdom. The Purple Gold Coin is our Lord’s emblem; it can ward off harm from Wizards,” Miller explained.

“So a Purple Gold Coin is also an amulet?! I thought the front represented the supreme authority of divine power and the back represented the political power of the kingdom,” Victor muttered. “Is this the Church’s secret method for dealing with Wizards?”

“Of course it’s not some secret method! I’ve known since I was a child. My parents knew, and everyone in my village knows. My lord, you can go ask any farmer, and I guarantee he’ll know too!” Father Miller said with conviction.

Victor: “…”

After all this, it turned out to be just a peasant’s rumor! Damn it, you old charlatan. Overcome with an urge to cry but having no tears, Victor asked, not ready to give up, “Are you sure the Church didn’t tell you this?”

“It’s something everyone knows. Why would the Church need to tell me?” Father Miller looked at Victor, puzzled.

Victor’s mouth twitched. He handed the Purple Gold Coin back to Father Miller and said, “Then please, cast a divine art on this coin.”

“Why?”

Why else? It was a desperate attempt! Victor mulled it over for a moment, then said haltingly, “I greatly revere the great Lord of Radiance, but I am a Noble after all… and as you know, most Nobles aren’t pious enough. I thought… maybe if it had a divine art on it, it would work…”

Father Miller’s expression turned serious, becoming holy and solemn.

“My child, whether you believe or not, He is there.”

Chapter 192: Responsibility

Victor left, embarking on his journey home with the “talisman” and a new mission. The mission’s objective was to provide as much relief as possible to the old and the weak, to prevent too many from freezing or starving to death. The reward for this mission was that Father Miller would dutifully serve as the head priest of the Randell Fief, and the fief itself would become “invisible” to the Church’s gaze.

Victor did not yet know that the reward for this mission would far exceed his expectations, even changing the destiny of humanity. For now, he was simply troubled by how to complete it.

The population of Phoenix Fief was over twelve thousand people. Nine thousand of them were able-bodied freemen working as hired laborers, and the remaining three thousand or so were their family members. The York family could only guarantee the rations and wages for the nine thousand able-bodied laborers; as for the old and weak, the Yorks were powerless to help.

These elderly and weak individuals could have stayed in the freemen camp at Black Fortress Town and received relief aid from the Church, but they had insisted on following and enduring hardship. This seemingly irrational behavior was, however, only human. How could young parents bear to leave their young children all alone in a freemen camp hundreds of kilometers away?

Now, they had become Victor’s burden.

Human adaptability is extremely strong; even if Victor ignored them, the vast majority would still survive. But Father Miller’s stance was clear: belief was irrelevant; action was what mattered. He wanted to witness Victor’s sense of responsibility with his own eyes.

How to provide aid? And to what extent? These were the questions Victor had to consider.

In Victor’s view, rations were not the problem. The entire fief spanned twelve thousand square kilometers; its natural resources alone were enough to feed these people, not to mention that the Randell Fief had just enjoyed a great harvest. In fact, led by the Cabbages, these people were reclaiming land to grow vegetables, cutting grass to raise pigs, gathering nuts, and drying wild greens. Combined with the rations they managed to spare from the able-bodied men, they could basically meet their daily needs.

The weak infrastructure and lack of winter clothing were the most deadly problems.

The shanties the laborers lived in were extremely crude, with wind blowing through the walls. When the cold Season of Water arrived, it wouldn’t be a major issue for the able-bodied men, but the old and young would find it difficult to endure.

Victor had always believed that as long as his subjects were preoccupied with filling their stomachs, he couldn’t expect them to do anything else well. This was precisely the current situation. The nine thousand able-bodied men had finished building the sluice gate and now had to dig the reservoir before the Season of Water arrived. They were overwhelmingly busy. Meanwhile, the old, the women, and the children had to feed themselves and had no time to improve the camp. After four months, they had only managed to build a single village, which could house a few hundred people at most.

Victor could solve the problem of weak infrastructure. After the harvest, the Randell Fief would have plenty of manpower; he could simply send people to repair the camp. What gave Victor a headache was the severe shortage of winter clothing.

Victor took stock of the camp’s supplies and discovered that among the more than twelve thousand people, fewer than one thousand had sheepskin coats. Victor asked Nicole about this, and she told him that when the Ant-man plague had suddenly broken out, the lords of the Centaur Hills had fled one after another. The York family had been busy gathering food and hadn’t had time to move many of their supplies. The sheepskins and cowhides had all ended up in the bellies of the Ant-men. The York family had now taken in over one hundred thousand people and was short not only on food but on all sorts of supplies. Anthony had already informed Nicole that the family could only spare two thousand sheepskin coats to support her.

Victor turned pale with alarm and asked Nicole how the York family planned to solve this problem. Nicole replied that the Church had winter clothing that could be loaned to the commoners. Her brother was currently using his connections to try and persuade the Church to replace the head priest, as the new one would surely be able to solve the issue. Victor fell silent. This was the real reason Father Miller wanted to leave—the old priest was completely unable to request support from the Church.

If Victor wanted Father Miller to stay, he had to solve this problem. Victor did a quick calculation: he needed to procure at least fourteen thousand sets of winter clothing. This was because the freemen who had sought refuge in the Randell Fief also lacked sheepskin coats. These freemen had been forced out with nothing; the Briatte family had not only driven them away, but their other subjects had seized all their property.

Simple and brutal! Utterly shameless! Victor cursed inwardly. But cursing wouldn’t solve the problem, and he only had two months. If he exceeded this deadline, the York family would ask the Church to intervene.

It seemed the only option was to purchase sheepskin coats through Pine Forest Town. The thought of being ripped off by the Chapman family again made Victor glum.

A leaf floated into the carriage from the window. Victor gently caught it between his fingers. Through the window, he saw a scene of great abundance.

The sides of the road were covered with withered, yellow oak leaves. Many young children with baskets on their backs were carefully searching for acorns hidden among the leaves. Acorns weren’t edible for humans, but they could be pressed for oil or used as pig feed. From the smiles on the children’s faces, it was clear their harvest was bountiful.

Seeing Victor’s carriage approaching, the children all moved to the side of the road and bowed to it. Not far away, a large flock of goats blocked the convoy’s path. The shepherd frantically tried to drive the flock away, but was carelessly butted on the rear by a sturdy billy goat, sending him tumbling. The comical fall elicited a round of cheerful, pure laughter.

The disheveled shepherd had no time to scold the little ones laughing at him; he desperately herded the flock to the side of the road. After some effort, the goats flowed past both sides of the carriage, jostling against one another and bleating. Only after the last little kid had run past did the convoy slowly move forward again.

The convoy and the flock grew distant from each other, but the children’s innocent laughter seemed to linger inside the carriage. Victor couldn’t help but lean out to look back. He saw several children proudly showing their baskets to the shepherd, who in turn patted their small heads with his rough hands as encouragement.

This scene brought a smile to Victor’s face as well. His gaze swept to the distance, where boundless wheat fields lay. The wind blew endlessly, creating tide-like waves in the wheat; the surging fields were like a golden ocean. In this golden sea, hundreds of farmers were busy harvesting the heavy stalks. They swung their sickles with all their might, only straightening up from the waves of wheat after a long while to enjoy the cool breeze. Victor could clearly see the sweat on the farmers’ faces and the joy in their eyes. This joy rode on the wind, blowing straight into his heart.

Victor couldn’t resist sliding out of the window. Pushing off the frame with one hand, he performed a nimble flip and landed steadily on the roof of the carriage. The view before him suddenly opened up. The azure sky was dotted with white clouds, and the distant Black River was like a crystal ribbon inlaid upon the land. The rolling hills were dyed gold, the branches of the trees were heavy with fruit, and herds of cattle and sheep chewed on alfalfa in the valleys. And at the end of the road lay the prosperous and peaceful Rivermouth Village.

The sky was high, the clouds were pale and clear; the mountains and rivers were all dyed in gold.

The magnificent and varied scenery stirred a heroic pride in Victor’s heart. The rivers and lakes, the mountains and forests, the farmlands and villages, the livestock and crops—they all belonged to him. And those farmers, most of them hired freemen, earned very little, yet their joy was real and true. For the farmers had placed their hopes in this fief, and their fates were held in Victor’s hands.

Victor came to a realization: these farmers were his greatest treasure. The strength of a single farmer might be insignificant, but when all their strengths were gathered, they could build towering fortresses, bustling towns, and powerful armies. This power was enough to create miracles!

To wear the crown, one must first bear its weight. A ruler who lacks a magnanimous spirit, who only calculates personal gains and losses, who sees the people as worthless weeds, and who puts on a cruel and domineering facade is, in truth, nothing but an incompetent fool. As a lord, if one is unwilling or unable to even bear the responsibility for their subjects’ food and warmth, what right do they have to speak of conquest and dominion? The greatest victories are those that are unsung; a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. Since you have lifted me up, I can do better than the Radiant Church. This year, no one will freeze or starve to death!

Victor’s gaze grew firm and distant. The convoy rumbled onward, heading straight for Rivermouth Village.

Over the next half-month, all the wheat in the Randell Fief was harvested, and the harvest festival was held as scheduled.

More than seven thousand people gathered joyfully in Rivermouth Village, indulging in the delight of the harvest. Victor ordered ten fatted cows, forty sheep, and one hundred pigs to be slaughtered for everyone to eat for free, and each person also received a cup of sweet Purple Cane wine. The hired farmhands loudly praised the grace of the Lord of Radiance, which moved Father Miller, presiding over the harvest festival for the first time, to no end. Of course, the people did not forget to praise the lord’s generosity either.

During the celebration, Victor announced to the public that after serving the House of Randell for two more years, each family could obtain the status of a subject. Each subject could then rent seventy mu of land and keep thirty percent of the profits. The moment his voice fell, Victor heard a cheer like a roaring tsunami. The harvest festival thus reached its climax.

While the people were still reveling, Victor and the mid-level leaders of the Randell Fief walked into the meeting room to hold a round table meeting.

Chapter 193: Countermeasures

“The family has harvested three million two hundred thousand pounds of wheat, fifteen million pounds of ground-potatoes, and gathered over eight million pounds of nuts, beans, and various wild vegetables. We also have five hundred thousand pounds of cured fish and five million pounds of hay. We are raising eight hundred and five beef cattle, two hundred and seventy-seven dairy cows, one hundred and eighty-four draft oxen, two thousand seven hundred and eighty-nine goats, ten thousand nine hundred and eighty-one wild boars, and one hundred and seventy-three horses.”

Lilia’s report caused a slight stir.

“I harvested the crops myself. We reaped four hundred pounds of wheat per mu! And we only sowed seventy pounds of seed!”

“It’s a miracle!”

“No! This is all thanks to My lord!”

As the village heads began to chatter among themselves, Victor felt a small surge of pride. The method of deep plowing and careful cultivation had indeed resulted in a great harvest. Randell Fief had started with only six hundred thousand pounds of wheat seed for over eight thousand mu of wheat fields. An average yield of four hundred pounds of wheat per mu meant a seed-to-yield ratio of nearly one to six. Such a harvest left the village heads, who prided themselves on their farming prowess, stunned and in disbelief.

Victor rapped his knuckles on the table, and the village heads immediately fell silent. Lilia continued her report.

“Currently, the population of Randell Fief is close to eight thousand people, five thousand of whom are able-bodied men. Three thousand five hundred have settled in Rivermouth Village, one thousand two hundred in Lord Narsen’s fief, six hundred in Brick Kiln Village, and the rest are distributed among the other six farming hamlets. Every month, we must pay eight thousand people five hundred Gold Sols in wages. Of course, this money ultimately flows back into the main mess hall. But purchasing vegetables from the private plots has become a major expense for the family.”

“The private plots in Randell Fief total nearly one thousand mu, and our monthly expense for buying vegetables exceeds two hundred Gold Sols. This is income that the hired freemen can save, and a net expenditure for the family.” After finishing, Lilia looked up at Victor, a hint of worry in her eyes.

Randell Fief sold Purple Cane wine to the York family, but the York family was temporarily unable to pay in cash, instead using rye and beans as compensation. Randell Fief’s real income came from trade with Pine Forest Town. Victor sold Mithril, potions, green bricks, Snow Sugar, and coffee to the Chapman family, and purchased Adamantine, cattle, goats, horses, wheat, salt, flax cloth, and hides. The profit from this trade was one thousand two hundred Gold Sols per month. Meanwhile, Randell Fief’s expenses were about five hundred Gold Sols. Therefore, the net monthly income of Randell Fief was only seven hundred Gold Sols.

Lilia was in charge of Randell Fief’s finances, but she only had nine thousand Gold Sols on hand. This was a pittance for a viscounty, especially since Victor still owed the kingdom five thousand Gold Sols, and this year’s annual tribute would surely not be a small sum. The thought of it gave Lilia a headache.

Victor was, of course, aware of Lilia’s worries. He hadn’t been this poor originally, but he had invested enormous sums in building up Quicksilver and the freemen’s Caravan, which was the cause of their tight finances. However, Victor had just come into a windfall; he had found 198 Borui Purple Gold Coins on the assassin Ace, worth one hundred sixty thousand Gold Sols. He just hadn’t told Lilia about it.

“Everyone now understands the family’s situation,” Victor said slowly, glancing around the room. “Although this was a great harvest, it’s not yet time for us to celebrate. The population of Randell Fief continues to grow, and we are not yet self-sufficient.”

“I hope that by this time next year, Randell Fief can accommodate twelve thousand people and no longer need to purchase grain and supplies. For an ordinary Pioneer Fief, this would be an impossible task, but we can do it! To that end, I have a few requirements for you.”

Victor laid out his plan for next year’s agricultural production. He would increase the area for wheat cultivation to forty thousand mu, allocating sixty pounds of seed per mu. Ground-potatoes, which required little care, would be expanded directly to one hundred thousand mu, sowing forty-five pounds per mu. Victor also demanded they reclaim twenty thousand mu of farmland to plant soldier beans, coarse beans, and rye. According to the plan, Victor would use two million four hundred thousand pounds of wheat seed and four million five hundred thousand pounds of ground-potato seed, with an expected harvest of fourteen million pounds of wheat and forty million pounds of ground-potatoes next year.

In terms of animal husbandry, more cattle and goats were naturally better, but the survival rate of captive wild boar piglets was too high, and the adult boars ate a tremendous amount, making them a significant burden. Victor decided to keep only the breeding boars and piglets, slaughtering all the other adult boars. The pork would be cured, to be either sold or eaten.

In addition to this, Victor proposed distributing pigs to households. This involved entrusting the raising of wild boars to the hired farmhand families, with each family raising three piglets. When the boars were slaughtered, the family would receive half a boar in return. Distributing the pigs to households would not only save on wages for raising them and increase the hired farmhands’ income, but also avoid the risks associated with centralized breeding.

Following the distribution of pigs was the introduction of industries to the villages.

Victor’s original development strategy was to concentrate on agriculture first, achieve self-sufficiency in food, and finally build up a massive grain reserve to provide logistical support for large-scale military operations. Therefore, Victor had left the specialized villages entirely in the hands of the Alchemical humans. Their abilities were beyond question, but their numbers were limited, and they were also tasked with forging military equipment, leaving their output of daily necessities somewhat lacking. Victor often had to purchase large quantities of linen products and leather goods, for which the Chapman family had fleeced him more than once.

This bountiful harvest gave Victor immense confidence. He began to consider achieving self-sufficiency in daily necessities, while also training skilled workers to pave the way for the Subject Employment System.

Brick Kiln Village had already been handed over to ordinary villagers, freeing up nearly two hundred Alchemical militia. Victor decided to also hand over the production of linen and wooden goods to the villagers. However, Randell Fief’s current focus was still on agriculture and irrigation, so continuing with the specialized village production model would be somewhat inappropriate. Victor’s solution was to bring industries to the villages.

Bringing industries to the villages was, in fact, the beginning of the Subject Employment System. Victor had six farming hamlets under his command. He required two of them to build woodworking workshops, two to build linen workshops, and the last two to build leatherworking workshops. Each workshop would be assigned two Alchemical auxiliary soldiers. They would normally teach the villagers the skills of division of labor. When a hamlet received a production order, the village head would be responsible for recruiting workers and organizing production, with the Alchemical auxiliary soldiers providing technical support. In the end, Victor would pay the wages.

“The villagers under you will primarily focus on farm work; these various productions are their side businesses. But you must urge the villagers to accept the training in division of labor and not spend all day thinking about their private plots. I don’t plan to continue allocating private plots, either. If anyone slacks off, I will reclaim their private plot. Is that understood?” Victor said to the village heads.

“My lord, we understand.”

“My lord, rest assured. Learning a trade and earning money on top of it—no one would refuse such a good thing. Back then, to learn carpentry, I worked for my master for five years for free!”

Victor nodded in satisfaction and asked, “Does anyone have any other questions?”

The village heads all shook their heads, indicating they had no questions. Only Narsen raised his hand. “My lord, what about my fief?”

“I’ll make arrangements for you. Just focus on training your guards properly!” Victor said irritably.

“Oh.” Narsen lowered his arm, satisfied.

Victor shook his head and continued, “Since there are no more questions, let’s discuss the matter of building the villages.”

With the family’s internal affairs settled, it was time to address the problem of keeping the populace warm. Several days earlier, Victor had ordered the village heads to prepare. He would mobilize four thousand people to build housing for the hired workers over three months, so they could survive the cold Season of Water. Now that the harvest was complete, it was the perfect time to begin this project.

The village heads glanced at each other, and Moline raised his hand. “My lord, we have a suggestion. We could build the houses in Randell Fief and have those people move here. After the Season of Water, they can go back to work, and the village will still be ours.”

Victor smiled. “An excellent suggestion. This is the kind of thinking I want to see in these meetings. However, I cannot agree to it, because once they move in, they won’t go back. Who can blame them when Randell Fief is so appealing?”

The village heads beamed with pride. Victor continued, “If we help them today, they will help us in return. Once the first reservoir is complete, I will mobilize those able-bodied hired workers to dig two stream reservoirs for Randell Fief. Although the rainfall during the Season of Water is plentiful, a stream reservoir is only about eighty mu in size. With over ten thousand able-bodied men, it will only take ten days to dig them. This will be our reward for building their houses.”

“The houses can’t be built like shanties. Shanties are too small, can’t hold many people, use up more materials, and we don’t have enough time. I’ve designed a type of longhouse. It’s rectangular, thirty meters long, six meters wide, and two meters high, and can accommodate thirty people. The longhouses will have a log frame, earthen walls, and a thatched roof. We’re not aiming for beauty, but they must be sturdy. Can you do it?”

Moline slapped his chest and said, “No problem!”

Victor nodded. “Building housing for twelve thousand people in three months is something others definitely couldn’t do! But our House of Randell can definitely accomplish it!”

“Go back and prepare! We start tomorrow!”

After the village heads had all left the meeting room, Victor asked Lilia, “How is the procurement of sheepskin coats coming along?”

Lilia shook her head and said softly, “We’ve only managed to buy two thousand sheepskin coats. The people in Pine Forest Town said that if we want more sheepskins, the price must go up. Three sheepskin coats for one Gold Sol.”

Victor sighed. With the mobilization and organizational capabilities of the House of Randell, building housing for twelve thousand people wasn’t very difficult, but the warm sheepskin coats could only be purchased from the Chapman family. Normally, one Gold Sol could buy twelve sheepskin coats, but the Chapman family had quadrupled the price! Victor could grit his teeth and accept this price, but he feared that even with money, he wouldn’t be able to buy these supplies.

They were short about fourteen thousand pieces of winter clothing. The Chapman family couldn’t possibly gather such a large quantity on their own; they would have to buy from other families, so a price increase was to be expected. But the problem was, even if other families were willing to sell, gathering the remaining twelve thousand sheepskin coats would likely drag on until next year.

Fortunately, Victor had prepared for this. He asked again, “How is the acquisition of wool and coarse flax cloth going?”

Lilia nodded. “There’s no problem with the coarse flax cloth. Twenty carts of it can be delivered tomorrow. There was a small issue with the wool. Pine Forest Town is demanding green bricks in exchange for wool, two carts of green bricks for one cart of wool. They also asked what we want the wool for.”

Victor smiled. “You’re very curious too, aren’t you?”

“Mm-hmm!” Lilia grunted charmingly.

“Parchment scrolls are a major industry for the southern lords. They use goatskin to make the scrolls, but the goat wool is coarse and short, so it’s useless after being sheared. Every year during the Season of Water, the southern lords burn the wool. It’s said that the piles of discarded wool are as high as small hills.”

“We’ll buy up this wool, sew a suit of clothes with two layers of coarse flax cloth, and then stuff the wool in between. That will be a warm piece of clothing for the cold.”

“Ah?! That works?”

“Why wouldn’t it? As long as it keeps you warm, it’s fine! The longhouses and the wool-padded jackets are my ideas,” Victor said with a得意 look.

Chapter 194: The Cunning Fox’s Shadow

“Your Majesty, the invitation list for this year’s Royal Hunt has been prepared. Please review it.”

The Royal Chamberlain of the Dodor Kingdom raised his voice slightly, but the great figure across from him did not turn around. Considering the importance of the Royal Hunt, the Chamberlain had no choice but to raise his voice once more.

“Your Majesty?”

King Friedrich stared at the Dragon-Lizard skin map on the wall. As a Silver-rank Great Knight, he had of course heard the Chamberlain, but his mind was entirely focused on the Great Plains.

Thanks to the efforts of the Cunning Fox spy organization, Friedrich had grasped the movements of the Sasan Empire and the Radiant Knights. Reportedly, the Sasan Empire’s two main legions had joined the Radiant Knights and advanced into the Northern Wildlands, where they were engaged in battle with a powerful centaur clan. The war was not proceeding smoothly. One of the Sasan Empire’s main legions had been surrounded by the centaur clan. The Radiant Knights and the other legion, however, did not launch a rescue. Instead, they took the opportunity to annihilate two of the centaur clan’s tribes, killing four Centaur Chiliarchs. The enraged centaur khan personally shattered the Sasan legion’s defensive line. Except for five high-ranking Knights who successfully broke out, the legion’s eighteen Knights, over eight thousand soldiers, and twelve hundred Sacred Warriors were all killed in action.

Intelligence suggested that the Sasan Emperor had no intention of letting the matter rest. He was gathering his forces, posturing as if he would fight the centaur clan to the bitter end.

Friedrich didn’t know what madness had possessed the Sassans, leaving their strongholds to engage the centaur clans in field battles, an area where the centaurs’ abilities were unrivaled. However, Friedrich was not surprised. The Sasan Empire was, after all, an empire propped up by the Radiant Knights; its mission was to assist them in fending off the monsters of the wildlands. From this perspective, the Sasan Empire could never unify the human kingdoms.

The Sasan Empire appeared powerful, but it was fraught with internal conflicts and completely lacked the ability to fight on two fronts. The Sasan lords relied on the protection of the Radiant Knights, yet they were unwilling to serve as mere cannon fodder against the monsters. Every time the Sasan Empire invaded the south, the Sasan lords would first argue for half a year: “Why is it that you get to conquer cities and plunder wealth and resources while I have to stay behind and defend against beastmen?” Thus, the Sasan Empire had an unwritten rule: when defending against monsters, there would be no southern campaigns; when plundering resources, they would take turns.

Friedrich had always believed that only the Dodor Kingdom could achieve the great feat of unification. This was not arrogance, but an objective fact, and the current situation confirmed it.

“Your Majesty, the list…”

The Royal Chamberlain once again interrupted Friedrich’s thoughts. He sighed and turned around. “Godeke, do you remember what it was like in previous years?”

Before the Chamberlain could reply, Friedrich continued, “In the past, whenever the crops ripened, the Sassans would run wild in Dodor’s territory like Gnolls. They would ride their warhorses, bypass the fortresses, and strike deep into our heartland, sacking towns and villages, taking everything they could. When they were returning, laden with spoils, my Knights would go out to intercept those bastards and take everything back.”

“The people of Naville were looting too. They went to loot the Sassans, while the people of Gambis compensated us for our losses. Do you know why it was like this?”

“Because we lost the Great Plains! As long as we retake the twelve holy cities, the Sassans won’t even be able to dream of harassing Dodor’s heartland! Now is the perfect time to reclaim the Great Plains! But where are my armies? They’re in the south, in a standoff with Gambis…”

“Your Majesty, you must decide on the list for the hunt!” the Royal Chamberlain insisted stubbornly.

“Fine. I know the Royal Hunt is important. We should be using this event to build rapport with the lords and formulate a military plan to retake the Great Plains, not shooting a few wild animals and then hypocritically flattering one another,” Friedrich muttered, taking the invitation list.

A name marked in red ink caught Friedrich’s eye. He asked, “Why is this fool Erickson different from the others?”

“Your Majesty, Duke Erickson has not paid this year’s annual tribute. I believe he should not be invited to the Royal Hunt.”

Friedrich flew into a rage. “That greedy, foolish, arrogant swine! How dare he treat me with such neglect!”

“Your Majesty, shall I strike Duke Erickson’s name from the list?” the Royal Chamberlain asked at the opportune moment.

“Of course! Wait…” A thought occurred to Friedrich, and he changed his mind. “Godeke, leave the list here for now. Go and bring Earl Jens to me.”

“As you command, Your Majesty.” The Royal Chamberlain bowed, took three steps back, and then turned to leave.

The King of Dodor waited in his study for a long time before he finally heard the sound of soft footsteps, followed by the entrance of a small, thin nobleman.

“Your Majesty, you summoned me?”

Jens bowed respectfully to the King of Dodor. His etiquette was perfect, yet it lacked any sense of elegance, perhaps due to his short, scrawny, and unpleasant appearance. In fact, Jens possessed no noble bloodline. He was originally an ordinary spy in the Cunning Fox organization who, having gained the King’s favor, was granted the title of Court Earl and put in charge of the Dodor royal family’s spy network: Cunning Fox. The nobles of Dodor dared not show disdain for Earl Jens to his face, but behind his back, they mocked him as the “lucky rat.” However, only Friedrich knew that Jens was a terrifying Wizard, and an incredibly useful one at that.

“Jens, how is the plan to turn the Queen of Roses proceeding?” the King of Dodor asked eagerly.

Jens cursed inwardly. He had hoped the King would have forgotten about this matter, but he hadn’t anticipated that Duke Erickson would remind him of the plan. Nevertheless, Jens never disappointed the King.

“Your Majesty, everything is ready. We are only waiting for your command.”

Friedrich’s eyes narrowed. “But you did not report this to me.”

“Your Majesty, if possible, I would prefer not to get involved with those people. Moreover, the York family’s reaction is difficult to predict. During the Season of Water last year, the Gambis Royal Family invited the Queen of Roses to their royal hunt, and their relationship with the York family has eased. Four months ago, Duke Nimes of Gambis lent a huge sum of money to the York family. Duke Nimes would not have done so without the royal family’s tacit approval. This means that assassinating the York family’s spokesperson is no longer very meaningful,” Jens said honestly after a moment’s hesitation.

Jens’s honest attitude satisfied the King. He said slowly, “I trust your loyalty and your ability, and I know the chances of the York family breaking with Gambis are minuscule. But as the King of Dodor, am I to sit by, helpless in the face of the current situation, and let this opportunity slip away? I must do something! Even failure is better than having done nothing at all!”

“I understand, Your Majesty.”

“Tell me the details of your plan. I am very interested,” Friedrich said.

“As you command.” Jens bowed slightly, stepped forward, and pointed at the massive map. “Your Majesty, this is the Centaur Hills. The York family bears the responsibility of containing the Ant-man plague, and they also consider the entire Centaur Hills their domain. When the Ant-man plague erupted, the Swift Dragon Knights of Gambis entered Redleaf Town but advanced no further. This greatly displeased the York family, almost bringing them to the point of a complete falling-out.”

Friedrich nodded. “Indeed. No one likes to have enemies at their back and front.”

“Our goal is to make the York family feel that threat again. Only then is it possible for them to break with Gambis completely,” Jens continued. “The York family gave the northernmost part of the Centaur Hills to the Gambis Royal Family, while the southernmost part is the Randell Fief. Viscount Randell is not a vassal lord of the York family, but everyone knows he serves as a buffer between the York family and the other lords of Gambis. He can be seen as the York family’s spokesperson.”

“If the York family believes Viscount Randell was killed at the hands of the Auguste family, they will suspect the royal family is preparing to interfere in the southern territories of the Centaur Hills. In that case, the York family would find itself surrounded by the Gambis Royal Family. Even if they don’t break away completely, this distrust can be exploited. Suppose we were to extend a helping hand to the York family in a timely manner and grant Duke Erickson’s duchy to them. I believe it is highly likely the York family would leave Gambis and join us in Dodor.”

Friedrich lunged forward, stroking the map and murmuring, “Highly likely… yes, highly likely indeed. They have to defend against the Ant-man plague on one side, and they have a malicious liege lord at their back. As long as the York family isn’t foolish, they will seek a way out, and leaving the Centaur Hills is their best option! Even if the York family doesn’t wage war against Gambis, as long as they leave the Centaur Hills, Gambis will have to defend against the Ant-man plague themselves. Then I can retake the Great Plains without any worries. And with the Queen of Roses joining the Dodor Kingdom, our prestige will soar, and the people of the plains will very likely rally to our side directly! In that case, Gambis will have to bow to Dodor’s will. Good! Excellent!”

“Jens, you have not disappointed me!” Friedrich paced back and forth twice in excitement, then looked up. “So, the most crucial part is to convince the York family that it was the Auguste family who did this! How do you plan to achieve that?”

“Your Majesty, I have a complete plan!” Jens pointed at the map and said in a low voice, “This is Viscount Briat’s Fief in Gambis. Viscount Briart died in the Ant-man plague, and his son has not yet inherited the title. Meanwhile, his younger brother, Lord Austin, is ambitious and wants to become the master of Bryat’s fief. Austin has thrown in his lot with Grand Duke Williams, and with the Grand Duke’s support, he has nearly succeeded.”

“And I have laid a trap for Austin. I had someone forge Williams’s handwriting to create a letter. My people will pose as Grand Duke Williams’s confidants and deliver that letter to Austin. Austin will think something has gone wrong. Then, this letter will cleverly fall into the hands of the Viscount’s wife. My people will then guide the Viscount’s wife and the heir to flee to Randell Fief. This will give Austin the opportunity to murder his nephew. He will pursue them to Randell Fief to eliminate the heir, as this is the only way he can inherit the title.”

“Of course, I won’t let Austin succeed so easily. My people will arrange for him to clash with Viscount Randell, during which Viscount Randell will meet with an untimely death. The York family will believe Austin killed Viscount Randell, and that Austin was acting on Williams’s orders.”

Friedrich frowned, pondered for a moment, and asked, “How can you guarantee that the York family will believe this was orchestrated by Williams? Based on that letter alone?”

Jens pointed to the northern end of the Centaur Hills. “Your Majesty, this is Soren Wimbledon’s fief. Soren is the Commander of the Gambis Imperial Guard, one of Williams’s trusted men, and Viscount Randell’s mortal enemy. He is also a Great Knight at the peak of Silver. You are also aware of the entanglement between Soren and the old Marquess Wimbledon. In short, Viscount Randell’s death would aid Soren in his breakthrough to the next realm.”

“Your Majesty, Soren’s fief is in the north of the Centaur Hills, and Randell Fief is in the south. Austin and Soren are both Grand Duke Williams’s men, and Viscount Randell will die in a conflict with Austin. Tying all these things together, the York family can only reach one conclusion: Williams murdered Viscount Randell to help Soren advance to Gold rank and thereby contain the York family.”

Friedrich contemplated for a long time, then shook his head. “In this whole plan, Austin becomes the scapegoat. I don’t believe Austin would sacrifice himself for Soren’s sake. He would never dare to touch Viscount Randell! I can see this, and Sylvia will not fail to see it either. This is a flaw.”

“Your Majesty is wise.” Jens first offered a bit of flattery before continuing, “My people will ensure that Viscount Randell dies at the hands of his own Guards. When Austin sees this, he will realize he has fallen into Williams’s scheme. Austin will have two choices. He could seek refuge with Grand Duke Williams, but Williams would still hand him over to the York family for punishment, and might even kill him. Therefore, Austin’s only option is to defect completely to the York family and testify against Grand Duke Williams. And Grand Duke Williams will have no way to explain himself.”

“Your Majesty. I have been setting up this scheme for a long time. Cunning Fox once deliberately leaked a fake assassination plot. Night Owl of Gambis wanted to sit back and watch Viscount Randell be assassinated, then frame Cunning Fox. Night Owl has been watching our people, trying to gather evidence of Cunning Fox assassinating the Viscount. But how could those fools at Night Owl ever imagine that our Cunning Fox would not make a move at all? The ones who will act are those people. If Cunning Fox does nothing, Night Owl will find no evidence, so how can they explain anything to the York family? With Night Owl’s agents盯紧我们狡狐, how could they possibly notice the turmoil within the Briatte family?”

King Friedrich burst out laughing. “Haha! Well done! Truly worthy of my Cunning Fox.”

Jens said humbly, “Your Majesty, there is one more important matter that requires your support.”

“Speak.”

“If the York family has no way out, they might pretend to be ignorant. We must give them a way out, only then will the York family join Dodor. But we cannot wait until after the event to extend our aid; that would be too obvious and arouse their suspicion. Therefore, the escape route must be prepared for the York family in advance.” Jens pointed meaningfully at the northern part of the Centaur Hills—the location of Duke Erickson’s duchy.

Friedrich sneered. “Erickson, that idiot. Greedy and incompetent. He relies on the promise my predecessor made to his grandfather and repeatedly tests my patience. I’ve been wanting to deal with him for a long time. Tell me, what kind of support do you need?”

“Lend Duke Erickson a little courage.”

Chapter 195: A Knight’s Blood

The northern border of the Centaur Hills, an enclave of House Randell.

Old Ham walked out of his shanty. The moment he pushed the door open, a dozen lean Tiku hounds immediately surrounded their master, wagging their tails affectionately. He reached out to pat the Tiku hounds’ heads, checked his gear one more time, and then began his day’s work.

Five months earlier, Old Ham and Butz, on Victor’s orders, had led over four hundred people on a fifty-day trek to move into House Randell’s northern territory and establish a settlement.

Victor’s territory in the north was only three hundred square kilometers. The York family’s cavalry patrolled the north only once a year, merely to declare their sovereignty. There were no castles, no villages, no freemen settlements—only rampaging beasts and monsters. It was a truly wild land.

Before setting out, Old Ham and Butz had steeled themselves for a hard struggle, but they had not anticipated the sheer scale of Victor’s support.

Victor had recruited over three hundred followers, including ten Guards, sixty Alchemical militiamen, and ten Alchemical auxiliary soldiers. Among these followers were many fierce mountain folk skilled in archery. Victor had equipped every able-bodied man with fine vine-hide armor, bows, arrows, spears, and other weapons. This equipment could arm over two hundred able-bodied hunters at a moment’s notice. Combined with the Guards and the Alchemical militia, this was a formidable army.

Victor had prepared a full forty cartloads of supplies for the migration and given Butz three thousand Gold Sol. When the convoy passed through Black Fortress Town, Butz purchased a large number of dairy cows and goats as a food source for the settlement. In addition, Victor would dispatch a supply convoy to the settlement every six months.

And this was only the support that was visible on the surface. Victor had secretly built two small mountain strongholds in the forests of the northern territory, stationing fifty Alchemical militiamen, ten Alchemical auxiliary soldiers, twenty Warhounds, and eighty Alchemical crows there.

Victor had invested an enormous amount of manpower, material, and financial resources into the northern territory. If all these investments were converted into currency, they would be equivalent to two hundred thousand Gold Sol.

In the eyes of other lords, the three hundred square kilometers of the northern territory were worthless. To spend such a fortune here was absolute madness. But for Victor, this territory held significant strategic importance.

The northern territory was located at the northernmost tip of the Centaur Hills; further north was the Dodor Kingdom’s sphere of influence. Victor planned to build a small town here and had already decided on a name: Raven Town. It would become the starting point for freemen merchant caravans heading north, its role similar to that of Pine Forest Town.

Furthermore, the northern territory was adjacent to the western mountain range of the Centaur Hills. By building outposts and resource collection points in the nearby mountains, they could both monitor the movements of the Ant-man army and exploit the mountain’s resources. Raven Town could then serve as a center for resource storage, processing, and transportation. Thus, Raven Town was envisioned as a border town that integrated trade, military, and resource distribution functions.

In Victor’s original plan, the construction of Raven Town could wait for three years. But Soren had already begun developing his territory, forcing Victor to develop the north ahead of schedule to prevent Soren’s men from encroaching on his land. Victor appointed Butz as the Village Head and Old Ham as the Militia Captain. His instructions for them were simple: establish a firm foothold in the north.

Clearly, Butz and Old Ham had done well.

Before moving into the north, Old Ham had expected to first fight a great battle against monsters, only to find there were no monsters at all. This was because alchemical creatures had cleared the area in advance, and a pack of six Alchemical Warhounds had claimed a large swath of land on the territory’s periphery, forming a protective barrier.

Without the threat of monsters, it took Butz only three months to construct a fortified village covering sixty thousand square meters. The village was complete with a moat, an Iron-oak palisade, and arrow towers—more than enough to repel attacks from beasts and monsters.

Once the village was built, Butz and Old Ham discussed their next steps. They decided to let the cattle and sheep graze freely, freeing up manpower to hunt wild boar and gather wild vegetables and ground-potatoes. It took another month to fill the village warehouse. Even if the supply convoy didn’t arrive, the four hundred-plus people could safely get through the Season of Water.

Old Ham was in charge of the territory’s security. He formed three militia squads, each composed of three to four Guards, seven Alchemical militiamen, and ten mountain folk hunters. These squads took on the tasks of patrolling the border, standing guard, and defending the village. Old Ham would join a different militia squad each day, and today he was to be with the squad protecting the villagers.

As Old Ham led the militia squad to the village entrance, he happened to run into Butz. A large crowd followed Butz, carrying shovels and hoes, and they had even brought out twenty ox-carts.

“What are you all doing today?” Old Ham asked curiously.

“I’m planning to dig a stream reservoir,” Butz said with a smile.

“With only two hundred-some people, you want to dig a stream reservoir? One heavy rain and you’ll have to stop! I say forget it. How about we have everyone practice their archery? Hunting wild boar would be good too.”

“Why can’t we? If we have fewer people, we’ll dig a smaller one! I’m planning to dig a reservoir about twenty mu in size. After a few rains, we won’t have to go to the mountains to fetch water anymore,” Butz said, glaring.

“Twenty mu? That’s a cistern, isn’t it?” Old Ham bluntly exposed him.

Butz’s old face flushed red, and he craned his neck, shouting, “A cistern is a cistern! At least we can grow some vegetables.”

“What’s the point of growing vegetables? Herding sheep is enough,” Old Ham said with a dismissive purse of his lips.

Just as the militia captain and the farmer village head were arguing about herding versus farming, an Alchemical militiaman ran over and said, “Captain Ham, a group of horsemen is heading our way!”

“What’s the situation?” Old Ham asked seriously.

“According to the message from the Ash Falcon, there are twenty-seven people coming from the northeast, forty kilometers from the village. It’s very likely a knight’s party, and they’re heading straight for us,” the Alchemical militiaman replied.

Old Ham and Butz looked at each other in horror, and a commotion spread through the villagers. Victor had once told them that the greatest threat in the northern territory was not monsters and beasts, but knights from hostile families. Today, Victor’s fears had finally come to pass.

“Are you sure they’re knights?” Old Ham pulled the Alchemical militiaman aside and asked in a low voice, not believing that an Ash Falcon had the ability to identify knights.

Of course, the Ash Falcon couldn’t distinguish between a knight and an ordinary person. But this group of horsemen had ignored the intimidation of the Alchemical Warhounds and passed directly through their territory. That meant they had to be a knight’s party. They didn’t hunt the Alchemical Warhounds, which resembled dire wolves, nor did they turn back. Instead, they continued forward. Their intention was self-evident.

The Alchemical militiaman didn’t explain the specific reasoning to Old Ham, but simply nodded.

Old Ham didn’t press the issue and turned to leave. These powerful soldiers had many secret methods, but they were trustworthy, and that was enough.

“Follow the plan. I’ll take my men to intercept them. You organize the villagers and prepare to retreat. If we can’t stop them, you are to immediately head for the mountains. I’ll leave you with ten elite militia and seven Guards; they know where the mountain stronghold my lord built is,” Old Ham said to Butz.

Victor had designed a contingency plan for this exact situation. Old Ham would lead the Alchemical militia to annihilate the hostile family’s knight party in the wild, while Butz would lead the villagers in preparation to evacuate into the mountains for safety. The village palisade could not stop a knight’s charge. Intercepting the knight’s party in the open would buy the villagers time to escape, but it meant that these elite soldiers and Old Ham would most likely not survive.

At this thought, Butz felt a pang of unwillingness. He said to Old Ham, “Viscount Soren’s territory is to the east. These people are coming from the northeast. They might not be knights from the Soren family!”

“Don’t trust our lives to strangers. There’s no priest in the village. It doesn’t matter which family they’re from; if they slaughter us, no one will ever know,” Old Ham said, his voice hoarse. “As long as they’re willing to turn back, it’s fine. But if they don’t listen to reason, I can’t let House Randell be shamed!”

“You’re right! You all… be careful,” Butz said softly.

The alarm bell was rung. An unknown enemy was less than forty kilometers away. At the marching speed of a knight’s party, they could appear at the village entrance in three hours at most. There was not much time.

The villagers moved quickly. The able-bodied men donned thick vine-hide armor and picked up their longbows and spears, while the women and children gathered whatever supplies they could carry. Old Ham mounted his warhorse and, together with three Guards and fifty Alchemical militiamen, charged out of the village gates.

A little over an hour later, Old Ham finally saw the group of horsemen.

The twenty-odd cavalrymen were well-equipped and moved with agility. The leading rider wore exquisite armor, and beside him were five other riders clad in scale armor. Old Ham’s heart sank. One Knight, five apprentice knights, and twenty-one elite cavalry—this was indeed a standard knight’s party.

“This is the territory of House Randell, and we are Viscount Randell’s guards. Lord Knight over there, please state your purpose!” Old Ham shouted.

The Knight ignored Old Ham. He shouted to his men, “Dismount! Shields up! Kill all these bandits!”

“Fire!” Old Ham roared in response. “Wipe them out!”

The battle erupted less than ten breaths after they met.

Two Crouching Ox Militiamen charged toward the Knight. The dozen-meter charge brought their strength to its peak, and their two heavy sabers forged from refined iron slashed down with unstoppable momentum.

“Hmm?”

The Knight was somewhat surprised. He hadn’t sensed any opponents of equal strength among the enemy. These two warriors did not have the balanced physique of a knight, yet the power they displayed was enough to match his. This was a sign that they were both Ferocious Warriors. Although Ferocious Warriors were far stronger than ordinary people, they were still no match for a Knight. The Knight was just puzzled to have encountered two Ferocious Warriors at once.

Facing two Ferocious Warriors, the Knight was surprised but not panicked. He changed his block to a flick, pressing his Adamantine longsword against the side of a saber’s blade to guide it away. He spun, slid forward, and raised his left-hand shield to perfectly catch the hilt of the other heavy saber, then unleashed a burst of power that sent it flying. In a single instant, the Knight had neutralized his opponents’ attack and closed the distance.

The Knight executed a standard Thrust, his sharp Adamantine longsword piercing the Ferocious Warrior’s chest. He was about to withdraw it and kill the other one when he saw a pair of indifferent, merciless eyes. The Ferocious Warrior ignored the sword in his chest, took a step forward, and clamped down tightly on the Knight’s arm.

That moment of hesitation sealed the Knight’s fate. A streak of light shot from the bushes on the hillside. A crossbow bolt of refined iron pierced the Knight through his side, just below the shoulder, and exited from under his armpit, trailing a spray of blood.

“A military heavy crossbow! A knight from House Randell is using cheap tricks! Despicable!”

Just as the thought crossed the Knight’s mind, the other Ferocious Warrior’s refined iron saber stabbed him in the chest. The blade pierced straight through his breastplate and into his torso, the immense force lifting him into the air.

“Aargh!”

The Knight let out a furious roar as his Aura surged. He kicked away the Ferocious Warrior clinging to him, pulled the longsword from the man’s chest, and in a flash of light, beheaded the other Ferocious Warrior. Blood fountained from the severed neck. Then, another crossbow bolt pierced the Knight’s head.

“Despicable…”

The Knight’s consciousness slowly faded into darkness. Even in death, he did not understand what he had truly been facing.

A Thorium heavy crossbow could pierce an Ant-man chief with a Physique of thirty, but it could not effectively kill a Knight. A wound that passed straight through a Knight was not a major issue; unless it hit the heart or head, the Knight would pull the bolt out and quickly retreat from the battlefield, and they would heal before long. To hit a Knight’s vitals in a head-on confrontation was something only Victor or a wind-element Great Knight could do.

The Crouching Ox Militiamen would not have been killed so easily at the first contact, either. In fact, clad in their Thorium Ant-man armor, the Crouching Ox Militiamen were perfectly capable of tangling with a Knight. The militiaman had deliberately sacrificed himself to create an opening for the Lithe Ape militiamen. If the Knight had seen the Lithe Ape militiamen with their heavy crossbows earlier, the outcome would have been different.

Before the engagement, the Alchemical crows had already revealed the knight party’s movements. This was an ambush. Four Lithe Ape militiamen had slipped into the bushes beforehand, and they had hunted the Knight just as they would a Savage Bear.

Old Ham was somewhat excited, but mostly, he was sad. This battle had proven that Knights were not invincible, but the price was the sacrifice of two comrades. Old Ham had been through many battles and witnessed many sacrifices, but the meaning of this one was completely different. In the past, sacrifices were made so that more people could escape. This time, the sacrifice was for victory.

The battle was over. The enemy was completely annihilated, with only one taken prisoner. On Old Ham’s side, two were wounded and three were killed in action.

Old Ham walked over to the prisoner. It was an apprentice knight, pinned firmly to the ground by several militiamen. If they hadn’t been trying to capture him alive, another Lithe Ape militiaman would not have died.

“I demand treatment befitting my station,” the apprentice knight said, struggling.

“And what is your station? Why did you attack us?”

“I am an apprentice knight of the Erickson family. On the orders of my lord Duke, we were to clear out the freemen settlement here.”

Old Ham froze. Duke Erickson was a lord from the Dodor Kingdom to the north, and his sphere of influence bordered their enclave. However, Victor had already notified the surrounding lords through the Church. It was impossible that Duke Erickson did not know they were villagers of House Randell.

“Why would Duke Erickson attack the territory of House Randell?”

“I don’t know,” the apprentice knight said, shaking his head.

Old Ham sighed and gave the order, “Leave no one alive. Kill him!” The Alchemical militiaman killed the apprentice knight without hesitation.

“Clean the battlefield and bury the bodies. Notify the Village Head to move the women, children, and livestock into the mountains to guard against Duke Erickson’s retaliation! Report the situation here to my lord using an Ash Falcon.”

Chapter 196: The Hunt

The Dodor Kingdom, the Centaur Hills, Duke Erickson’s castle.

In the afternoon, bright sunlight slanted through two upper-story windows, casting a golden sheen across the spotless ebony floor of the four-hundred-square-meter living room.

Sixteen candles made from pure white Water Lizard oil burned silently. Above each flickering flame rested a small, violet-gold dish. The amber within, unable to withstand the heat, was slowly melting, releasing waves of a refined, elegant fragrance that filled the entire room.

In the center of the living room were two armchairs with gold frames and Water Lizard leather upholstery. Two men sat in them, conversing softly. Behind them stood four knights in full suits of plate armor.

“Your Highness Duenkel, the royal family has failed to invite me to this year’s great hunt. Does His Majesty the King hold some prejudice against me?”

The middle-aged man in a magnificent ducal uniform, the master of the castle, Duke Erickson, asked the guest across from him in a low voice.

“Erickson, you’ve failed to pay your annual tribute again this year, haven’t you?” Duenkel reminded him gently.

“The late King promised that our Erickson family would be exempt from the annual tribute. I am merely following the will of the late King. How can His Majesty blame me for that?” Erickson’s aggrieved expression slightly displeased Duenkel.

Duenkel was a Pinnacle Knight of the Dodor Kingdom and the commander of the Iron Wall Knights. Duke Erickson’s grandfather had been his dearest friend, making him Duke Erickson’s backer. But over the years, Erickson had grown more and more outrageous. Relying on his ancestor’s legacy and Duenkel’s protection, he had committed numerous acts of extortion and plunder, and he refused to change his ways despite repeated admonishments. If not for the Dodor King’s request, Duenkel would not have wanted to see Erickson ever again.

Seeing Duenkel fall silent, Erickson’s expression darkened. He said meaningfully, “Your Highness, breaking a promise is not a virtue for a liege lord. As the Iron Wall of the Kingdom, you should offer your counsel to His Majesty.”

Duke Erickson’s veiled criticism infuriated Duenkel, but he betrayed no emotion as he said, “Erickson, for over a decade, you have not paid your annual tribute, and His Majesty has said nothing. But to have His Majesty’s tax collector beaten and stripped naked… that is hardly the conduct of a noble.”

“I didn’t do it!” Erickson retorted loudly. “The tax collector was attacked by bandits. I have already ordered my men to hunt down those brigands.”

“Is that so?”

“Of course!” Erickson sighed and said, “Your Highness, it’s not that I’m unwilling to pay the annual tribute. It’s just that I recently heard a rumor. That His Majesty plans to use my territory to buy off the York family…”

“Utter nonsense!” Duenkel denied it flatly. “I have come here today at His Majesty’s request to explain to you that this is a rumor fabricated by Night Owl. His Majesty hopes you will not give credence to such gossip.”

“That is a relief.” Erickson breathed a long sigh of relief and smiled. “I also thought it was a ridiculous rumor. That is why, in your name, Your Highness, I sent a joint letter to the York family, denouncing them for encroaching on my lands. Only by doing so can we show the united front of the Dodor nobility, unshaken by rumors, and expose Gambis’s plot. You won’t blame me for overstepping, will you?”

As soon as he said this, the atmosphere in the room grew heavy.

Duenkel was a revered Gold Knight, a titan of the kingdom. For Erickson to dare write a letter of denunciation to the York family in his name without permission was an act of such disrespect that the family knights behind Duenkel glared furiously at the Duke.

Erickson ignored them, his eyes fixed on Duenkel’s reaction. He knew he had never been in Duenkel’s good graces, and that Duenkel had grown more and more distant since he had taken power. However, this matter concerned his very foundation. If he didn’t take action, was he truly supposed to just hand over his territory? Since you claim it’s a rumor, then prove it to the world!

Duenkel pondered for a moment, then smiled. “No matter. It is as it should be.”

Only then did Erickson truly relax. At the same time, he knew that with this matter, he had exhausted the goodwill owed to his grandfather. From now on, he could no longer act with impunity under Duenkel’s name. It was a slight pity, but the thought of making a Gold Knight bow his head made Erickson swell with pride again.

I was originally going to spare your life and title, but now, your head will serve to complete His Majesty’s plan.

Duenkel saw through Erickson’s mindset as if it were illuminated by a candle flame. He had no intention of arguing with a dead man. He said, “If you have evidence that the York family has encroached upon your lands, the Iron Wall Knights can be stationed in the Duchy of Erickson for a time as a show of support.”

Erickson didn’t care about not being invited to the royal hunt, but the rumor had left him in a state of constant panic. Whether it was true or false, he refused to sit idly by and await his doom. He believed that only by forcing a public confrontation between the kingdom and the York family could he resolve this crisis.

Erickson decided to seize the opportunity of the Iron Wall Knights’ inspection tour of the kingdom’s territories. He would use Duenkel’s name to send the letter of denunciation to the York family while deliberately creating friction and disputes, forcing the kingdom into a difficult position where it would have no choice but to side with him. That way, true or not, the rumor would collapse on its own. Although this would offend Duenkel, Erickson was past caring.

Now, Duenkel was clearly prepared to use action to dispel the rumor. This delighted Erickson. “Of course I have evidence!” he said. “Lady Rose’s lover, Viscount Randell, has established a settlement in my territory. I’ve already dispatched my knights to gather proof. They should be back around now!”

“It seems you began your preparations before I even arrived.” Duenkel gave Erickson a faint, unreadable smile and said lightly, “That’s fine as well.”

How could Erickson know that he was destined to be a sacrifice? Even if he had done nothing, the kingdom would have manufactured a dispute between him and the York family, then used his life to quell the matter and ultimately complete the Cunning Fox’s plan.

Hounds barked wildly as they rushed into the woods, flushing out a large, panicked herd of yellow goats. A dozen or so young women in hunting attire gave chase, bare-handed, after the scattering animals. Upon catching their prey, they snapped the goats’ necks with their bare hands. In no time at all, few of the goats remained.

“No bears, no wolves, not even a wild boar. What a boring hunt. It’s less interesting than shooting ground-rats.” Sylvia stood on a high slope, complaining to Victor beside her.

Victor sheepishly lowered the hunting bow in his hands. He had just shot a fat ground-rat hiding in its burrow.

“I heard you built villages to house over ten thousand people in just two months?”

Sylvia turned her head to look at Victor. Her face, as lovely as a peach blossom, was particularly captivating in the sunlight. Victor’s heart skipped a beat. “I couldn’t just let people freeze to death in Nicole’s territory, could I? That would damage the York family’s reputation.”

“Freeze to death? I doubt it would come to that. Weren’t you really doing it to keep that commoner priest?” Sylvia chuckled softly.

Victor asked with a serious expression, “Has the Church agreed to let Father Miller preside over my domain?”

“Of course. I put in quite a bit of effort for you. How are you going to repay me?” Sylvia reached out a slender, flawless white hand and pinched Victor’s cheek, her eyes full of seductive charm as she asked.

Victor shivered and said with a wry smile, “What do you want this time?”

Sylvia giggled. “I won’t tease you anymore. Tell me, how did you manage to build ten villages in such a short time, and not just shanties either?”

How did I do it? Division of labor? Organizational management? The most fundamental reason was the difference between a centralized system and the vassalage system. But how could he explain that?

Victor thought for a moment and said, “If you draw up a plan, assign tasks, personally discuss every detail, and then personally inspect every stage, you too can achieve astonishing efficiency.”

“Round table meetings?” Sylvia raised a shapely eyebrow.

Victor nodded. “Something like that.”

Hearing about having to mix with peasants, Sylvia immediately lost interest and changed the subject.

“What do you think of those female apprentice knights down there?”

Hunting in the valley were the York family’s female apprentice knights. They were all young, beautiful, and graceful. A pair of twin sisters were particularly outstanding. Their peachy cheeks were fairer than snow, their red lips luscious. In terms of looks alone, they surpassed Nicole, though their temperament and figure were a bit inferior. These female apprentice knights frequently glanced towards Victor on the slope, their gazes both bold and shy. From time to time, they would share a few teasing words with their companions, but how could that escape Victor’s hearing?

It struck Victor as strange that these female apprentice knights dared to discuss him in front of Sylvia. But Sylvia said from beside him, “That pair of twin sisters is twenty-one this year. The older is Elina, the younger is Alice. Their father was Lord Roald York, barely considered part of a branch family. Their mother was a commoner, and their father has passed away. The sisters’ bloodline is not pure, so normally, they would not be promoted to Knight.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Victor asked, bewildered.

“I am suggesting you choose two people to be your personal handmaidens,” Sylvia said lightly, staring into Victor’s eyes.

“I don’t—”

“You are not allowed to refuse!” Sylvia’s pretty face hardened, her attitude resolute.

Political marriage!

Victor instantly understood Sylvia’s intention.

Knights represented power and authority, and Knighthood came from one’s bloodline, so the nobility’s pursuit of bloodlines was bone-deep. This had given rise to the noble tradition of political marriage, which in turn created bloodline alliances. Each bloodline alliance was a noble faction. Gambis alone had six: the Eastern Bloodline, the Southern Bloodline, the Central-Southern Bloodline, the Western Bloodline, the Royal Bloodline, and the York Family Bloodline.

A bloodline alliance was not as unbreakable as a vassalage relationship, but any change would only happen after ten generations. The political significance of a marriage was crystal clear: it was a declaration of one’s stance. Sylvia could allow Victor to remain independent, but she could not tolerate him falling into the embrace of another lord’s faction. Thus, a political marriage was the inevitable choice.

Victor wasn’t opposed to an alliance; he had already come to deeply understand the necessity of joining a lord’s faction. If he truly had to choose, the York family was his first choice. Ever since discovering that the Alchemy Tower automatically extracted the Soul Fire and resources of the Ant-men, Victor and the ant swarm were locked in a fight to the death. From this perspective, Victor and the York family shared a common interest, which was more reliable than any alliance. But Sylvia didn’t know that!

I’ve just barely managed to hide from the Church’s sight, and now you want to stick two female apprentice knights by my side? Aren’t you trying to screw me over?

Victor lamented inwardly, his gaze flickering as he calculated how to refuse Sylvia without damaging their mutual trust. But in Sylvia’s eyes, his hesitation had another meaning.

Sylvia knew Victor’s background. In her view, Victor had been betrayed by his lover and given away as a gift, which had drastically changed his temperament. But he hadn’t become despondent; he had become driven and ambitious. Victor wanted to use his achievements to prove he was not a mere plaything. To that end, he was willing to cast aside his noble dignity and mingle with peasants and mercenaries. This behavior was criticized by the nobility, and even he himself found it embarrassing. That was why Victor was unwilling to let other nobles into his life to laugh at him.

Originally, Victor had already achieved success. The agropastoral system, the waterworks, rock bricks—any one of these accomplishments could have earned him immense prestige. Yet, he was forced to submit to her will. At this thought, Sylvia felt a little guilty, and a little pity.

Sylvia was very fond of Victor. But whether it was guilt or affection, these emotions were as insignificant as dust compared to her convictions. If Victor were to seriously harm the York family’s interests and become uncontrollable, Sylvia would not hesitate to be ruthless. In a sense, a Gold Knight’s conviction was as indestructible as the Will Side of an alchemical creature, but a Knight knew how to be flexible.

“You choose two personal handmaidens. I can have them live in Black Fortress Town, or I can give you a manor to house them. They will not interfere in the affairs of your domain. That should be acceptable, right?”

Sylvia was very tolerant of Victor, but ruthless towards those female apprentice knights. Victor didn’t know how he should respond. Just as he was caught in a dilemma, an Ash Falcon flew in from the north.

“Caw!”

Seeing its master, the Ash Falcon cried out and landed on Victor’s wrist.

Victor untied the letter fastened to the Ash Falcon’s chest. After reading it carefully, his face turned livid.

“Darling, what happened?” Sylvia asked.

Victor took a deep breath and said, “My northern territory has been razed by Duke Erickson.”

Sylvia thought for a moment, then smiled beautifully.

“The hunt is starting to get interesting!”

Chapter 197: Overreaching

The wind howled, making the banners snap and roar.

In the valley, riders scattered in all directions, while troops of cavalry galloped in from all corners.

In the hunting camp, the hunters shed their hunting attire, donned their armor, and slung longswords at their waists. In the blink of an eye, the elegant nobles transformed into powerful knights. Their attendants put on refined iron chainmail and picked up longspears and heavy crossbows, presenting the image of elite soldiers.

War boots trod across the grass, the iron rings of chainmail clashing with a resonant clang. This sound, interwoven with the thunderous drumming of hooves and the neighing of warhorses, composed a symphony of war.

A forest of spears, a sea of fluttering banners—the hunting encampment had become a military camp.

At Sylvia’s command, the Knights of the York family gathered their retainers, who streamed in from all over. In the space of half a day, the York family had assembled hundreds of elite cavalry, dozens of Knights, and all of their high-rank Knights. It took them only one hour to pass and formulate a plan of attack against Duke Erickson. Perhaps it couldn’t be called a battle plan; to fight for the right to lead the expedition, the Great Knights had been haggling in the command tent until Sylvia personally selected the roster. Only then did the war council conclude.

The York family’s efficient war mobilization did not shock Victor; the great hunt had always had the nature of a military exercise. What surprised Victor was how rashly Sylvia had decided to launch a Family War—against a ducal vassal of the Dodor Kingdom, no less. And yet, the upper echelons of the York family had raised no objections. Not only did they respond with enthusiasm, but they did so without formulating any real plan.

This was simply too farcical!

Over ten days ago, Victor had received the first letter from Old Ham and learned that his Alchemical militia had annihilated one of Duke Erickson’s knight squads. As for why Duke Erickson had encroached upon Raven Village, Victor hadn’t given it much thought. It was nothing more than a territorial dispute.

When lords quarreled over their respective spheres of influence, they usually fought first and talked later. Victor was neither angry about this nor did he plan to ask the York family to mediate. At present, no lord could withstand Victor’s retaliation.

To avoid Duke Erickson’s subsequent actions, Old Ham had already led the villagers into the mountains. Victor had planned to dispatch ten Alchemical Warhounds to kill Duke Erickson’s cattle and sheep, threaten his subjects so they couldn’t farm, and then continuously raid his supply convoys until the Duke was forced to abandon his nearest town or village.

The inexplicable disappearance of a knight squad would make any lord wary and uneasy, so it was expected that Raven Village would be razed. Upon receiving the report, Victor’s anger was mostly feigned to distract Sylvia and extricate himself from her “forced marriage” proposals. But Victor had not expected Sylvia’s reaction to be so extreme—to the point of launching a Family War.

Victor certainly didn’t believe Sylvia was doing this just to vent his anger for him. He was still trying to figure out the York family’s true purpose for initiating this war.

The flap of the command tent was lifted, and the high-rank Knights of the York family filed out. They greeted Victor with friendly words before hurrying on their way.

“It’s been decided. I will personally lead three Great Knights, seven Knights, and twenty-one apprentice knights. We’ll also take three hundred cavalry, with three horses per man. We set out today.”

Sylvia walked to Victor’s side, already clad in her Rose Battlegear. The armor was forged from Mithril and Adamantine, providing both exceptional defense and elemental affinity. Its form-fitting design accentuated her graceful figure without sacrificing flexibility, while its surface was exquisitely engraved with patterns of roses and flames, giving it a delicate and magnificent appearance. In that moment, Sylvia was a perfect embodiment of power, mystery, grace, and valor, all while radiating an air of nobility and dignity. The charm and presence she exuded left Victor momentarily stunned.

So this is a Pinnacle Knight?

Sylvia paid no mind to Victor’s daze. She said, “Erickson destroyed your village, so I’ll make him compensate you with a castle. How does that sound?”

Victor couldn’t help but ask, “You’re starting a war over something so small?”

“War? No!” Sylvia smiled cunningly. “We are still holding our great hunt. It’s just that Duke Erickson has become our prey.”

Victor gasped. “Taking a Duke of the Dodor Kingdom as prey? Aren’t you afraid of a backlash from the Dodor Kingdom? Besides, a Duke’s army and castle are not toys. Shouldn’t you at least make some preparations?”

Sylvia nodded. “Attacking any lord of the Dodor Kingdom requires caution. Duke Erickson is the sole exception.” Seeing Victor’s confusion, she explained, “Erickson is a Duke in name, but his strength is not much greater than an Earl’s. Most importantly, I can attack him without facing major repercussions.”

Seeing Victor’s look of pure curiosity, Sylvia pursed her lips and smiled. “There’s a secret story behind this. Since it involves Gold Knights and the dignity of the Dodor Royal Family, most nobles are unaware of it.”

“Over forty years ago, during the resistance against the Sasan invasion, the old King of Dodor was accidentally trapped in a pincer attack. At the time, Dodor’s Gold Knights were in a standoff with the Sasan Gold Knights, merely observing each other. When they received news of the King’s peril, they couldn’t hold back and attempted a rescue, but this ended up revealing the old King’s identity. The Sasan Empire’s Gold Knights intercepted them and dispatched high-rank knights to hunt down the old King. The situation became critical. To save their King, Dodor’s Iron Wall Knights used a broken-tail tactic to shake off their opponents and successfully rendezvoused with the old King, but the Sasan high-rank knights had also closed in. The Commander of the Iron Wall Knights at the time was Duke Erickson’s grandfather. He had Vice-Commander Duenkel lead a team to break the King out of the encirclement, while he and his two sons stayed behind to cover the retreat.”

“The old King escaped successfully, but all the knights from the Erickson family died in battle. The King of Dodor, grateful for the Erickson family’s loyalty and sacrifice, ennobled their heir as a Duke and granted him a swath of land as a hereditary fief. Since that fief was far smaller than a standard duchy, the King also promised to never collect an annual tribute from them.”

“The Erickson family’s heir, the current Duke Erickson, was just an infant at the time, and all the knights in his family had perished. Thus, Duenkel, now the Commander of the Iron Wall Knights, declared himself the boy’s guardian until he came of age, and the Knights pledged to protect his family for fifty years.”

“The Erickson family was isolated and powerless. Their officials and guards were all appointed by the King and Duenkel, so the affairs of their fief were inevitably controlled by the King, and the annual tribute was still collected as usual. After the old King died, Duenkel was promoted to Gold Knight, and those officials naturally gravitated towards him. This was the environment in which Duke Erickson grew up.”

“After Erickson came of age, he showed some intelligence and cunning. Unwilling to remain a puppet, he secretly cultivated his own loyalists and quickly drove out the disobedient subordinates, regaining full control of his fief.”

“If he had stopped there, Duenkel wouldn’t have minded. Unfortunately, the Erickson family’s foundation is too shallow, and the King elevated them too high, too quickly. Duenkel, for his part, was not a qualified guardian. He neither gave him a proper education nor spent any time fostering a bond with him.”

“Erickson became engrossed in his own cleverness, nurturing unnecessary ambitions, completely oblivious to what the power of a king or a Gold Knight truly meant,” Sylvia sneered.

“Erickson saw Duenkel and the royal family as threats. Using their promises and their name for cover, he frantically expanded his own power, and he did manage to make his fief quite prosperous. But he did two foolish things that made the Dodor Royal Family and Duenkel lose their patience with him.”

“After the Forest Centaurs migrated, Erickson, without the King’s permission, designated the northern part of the Centaur Hills as his sphere of influence. He also discovered a gold mine and began to privately mint coins. To protect his gold mine, Erickson started refusing to pay the annual tribute to the royal family and drove out the kingdom’s tax collectors.”

“Occupying the territory in the Centaur Hills would have been one thing, but privately minting coins is a grave challenge to royal authority. Even our York family wouldn’t do such a thing, yet Erickson did it. The King of Dodor has been tolerating it out of respect for the late King’s promise and Duenkel’s honor, but he surely hopes someone will teach Erickson a painful lesson.”

“So that’s how it is.” Victor nodded, then asked in confusion, “Erickson seized so much territory. Don’t the other lords of Dodor have any objections?”

Sylvia said coolly, “Occupying territory is about benefits and strength. What’s the use of just drawing lines on a map to claim a sphere of influence? Besides, unlike us in Gambis, the lords of the Dodor Kingdom do not lack for land.”

“Why?”

Sylvia softly uttered two words: “War, and population.”

Due to the influence of the Church and the state of productivity, wars of annexation between human kingdoms rarely involved large-scale army battles. When both sides had knights, breaching fortresses and castles was especially difficult. Therefore, when the Sassans attacked the Dodor Kingdom, they didn’t storm castles. Instead, they would push deep into the heartland, sacking villages and towns, plundering resources, destroying production facilities, eliminating the vassal class, and driving away the populace to create refugees. This would increase the burden on the Dodor Kingdom until it collapsed.

Faced with this situation, Dodor’s lords would not send knights and armies for a direct interception, as that would only lead to annihilation. They could only seize opportunities during the Sassans’ retreat to inflict as many casualties as possible. The two sides went back and forth, with victories and defeats for both, but the common people no longer dared to remain in their lands. Their migration left the fiefs desolate. In the long run, Dodor’s lords would either have to abandon their lands or surrender to the Sasan Empire. The Empire would then complete its annexation.

To prevent this, Gambis had been supplying Dodor’s lords with resources, and the refugees fleeing the war had flooded into Gambis. As a result, the Dodor Kingdom did not have a significant population pressure, while Gambis was overpopulated, overburdened, and in desperate need of new territory.

Although the traditional tactics were effective, they took too long, and it wasn’t certain that the Sassans could sustain them either.

In fact, Victor’s own wolf-pack tactics were a direct copy of this strategy. He had an unparalleled advantage in this regard, as his Alchemical Warhounds could lay waste to any fiefdom. However, doing so did not align with Victor’s interests.

Victor had no ambition to unify the human kingdoms, nor did he possess the political foundation to rule them, much less a reason to do so.

Without strategic power in his hands, there was no way to secure the fruits of victory. Furthermore, destruction is easy, but reconstruction is hard. Rebuilding a fief requires more time and investment, and the Alchemy Tower runs on consuming Fortune and resources.

Victor’s strategic thinking was clear: use trade to absorb the Fortune of other families, allowing the Alchemy Tower to continuously produce alchemical creatures, thus securing his own monopoly and interests, and thereby expanding his power and influence. From this perspective, Victor was more willing to help lords develop their fiefs than to turn them into paupers. Force was merely a tool to tame disobedient lords.

War was never the goal, only the means. So what, then, was Sylvia’s goal?

With this question in mind, Victor said, “Even so, the Dodor Kingdom would hardly be willing to let you attack one of their lords. Isn’t the price of starting a war for a single castle too high?”

“Hmph! What can they do if they’re unwilling? Our York family formulated a plan to seize the northern Centaur Hills years ago,” Sylvia said coldly.

“Do you remember? When we first established ourselves in the Centaur Hills, we gave up the western and southern lands to occupy the east and north. We even forced you to swap territories for it. That’s because the Centaur Hills lack stone, and there just happens to be a stone quarry to the north. Only by taking that quarry can we build castles and fortresses. Yet Erickson recklessly designated that area as his sphere of influence.”

“This concerns the very foundation of our family. So what if we have to fight a war with the Dodor Kingdom? To defeat the York family, the Dodor people would have to give it their all! But then their kingdom would fall, and Gambis certainly wouldn’t stand by and do nothing. Under these circumstances, do you think Dodor would stand up for Erickson?”

“It’s just that your invention of rock bricks changed our strategy. But now Erickson dares to provoke me. A dozen or so days ago, he used Duenkel’s name to berate us for encroaching on his territory, and now he’s razed your village. If we don’t respond, he’ll really think the York family is easy to bully!”

“If I’m not mistaken, Duenkel and his knights must be in Erickson’s fief right now. Erickson wants to use this to force me to acknowledge his sphere of influence. But that fool could never understand that Duenkel would never clash with another Pinnacle Knight for his sake. And even if a conflict did occur, the Iron Wall Knights would be annihilated if they did anything but flee!”

As she spoke, the charming Sylvia projected an air of someone who could look down upon the world. Then, she smiled sweetly and said, “Since Erickson has razed your village, I’ll take some men to pay a visit to his gold mine. If he doesn’t compensate us with a few hundred thousand Gold Sols, we’ll just have to mortgage the gold ingots to the Gambis Royal Family to cover our losses.”

Victor suddenly understood. No wonder the York family’s knights were so eager—it turned out they were broke and going on a robbery!

“Darling, would you like to go hunting in the north?” Sylvia extended an invitation.

The corner of Victor’s mouth twitched. He felt that tagging along behind Sylvia to demand justice was frankly a bit embarrassing. So, he shook his head and said, “The reservoir should be finished by now. I need to go back and check on it!”

Chapter 198: Corruption

Bryat’s fief, Wildwillow City.

Two imposing guards, halberds in hand, stood before a great yew wood door. Behind the door lay Viscount Briart’s study, the very room where the Viscount handled his family’s affairs. It housed countless important documents, letters, receipts, and contracts. This was the heart of Wildwillow City’s command, and entry was forbidden to all without the master’s permission. Now, the master of this room was Lord Austin.

The soft sound of footsteps echoed in the long, narrow, pitch-black corridor. As they drew nearer, one of the guards shouted, “Who’s there?”

“It’s me.”

A flicker of candlelight appeared around the corner of the corridor, and a slender figure emerged from within its halo. The newcomer wore a fine linen maid’s chemise with a cinched waist, her hair wrapped in a white kerchief. She held a candle in one hand, her other hand holding up the hem of her skirt. As she approached the study door, the guards saw a familiar, pretty face in the torchlight from the wall and immediately relaxed.

“Fili, it’s you,” one of the younger guards said eagerly.

The beautiful maid greeted the two guards, “Uncle Dulu, Brother Jason.”

“Fili, what’s the matter?” the older guard asked kindly.

The maid, Fili, spoke softly, “It’s started to rain outside, and Young Master Primo’s room is a bit damp and cold. The Lady sent me to fetch some amber to purify the air in the room.”

Stone castles were designed with defense as a priority, so their internal ventilation was often poor. Dark, damp rooms were breeding grounds for mold and insects. Amber not only had detoxifying properties but could also purify indoor air. Nobles would place amber in their castles, letting it slowly vaporize to make the air as fresh as a forest. If heated with a flame, its purifying effects were even better.

Though amber was expensive, the Briatte family could still afford it, and there was a supply kept in this study. Although Fili was Lady Judy’s maid, it was somewhat against the rules for her to be fetching amber from the study.

The older guard said to Fili, “If the Lady needs amber, you should go to the storeroom to get it.”

Fili hesitated for a moment before saying, “Uncle Dulu, the storeroom is in the cellar, it’s too far. It’s dark now, and I’m a little scared.” Seeing the guard was unmoved, she added, “And I don’t want to see Virgil’s disgusting face.”

Ever since Austin had taken control of the family, Wildwillow Castle had also fallen under his control. Although Austin hadn’t been cruel to Judy and her son, there were always sycophants looking to show him their loyalty, and Virgil, the storeroom steward, was one of them. Dulu sympathized with Lady Judy’s plight, but he was powerless to help, and he certainly couldn’t let the Lady’s maid into the study. Lord Austin himself had given the order.

Dulu shook his head firmly, and Jason, too, shamefully averted his gaze from Fili’s pretty face. Fili took a step forward, tugging on Jason’s sleeve and pleading, “Brother Jason, please, for the Viscount’s sake, let me in! I’ll just grab the amber and come right out. I won’t cause any trouble for you.”

Seeing the woman he admired pleading so softly, Jason felt his heart soften. He was just about to speak when he saw that Fili’s eyes were filled with a pleading expression. He felt as if Fili was the one he loved most in the world, that he had to help her, and that nothing else mattered. Meanwhile, Dulu was also captivated by Fili’s eyes. The middle-aged guard’s mind wavered for a moment, his head filling with all the kindnesses shown by Viscount Briart and Lady Judy, and the oath of loyalty he had once sworn. The authority of Lord Austin and the fate of his own family gradually faded from his mind. Jason and Dulu glanced at each other and simultaneously stepped aside to open the door.

“Thank you.”

Fili curtsied to the two men, pushed the door open, and walked into the study.

By the light of the candle, Fili surveyed the room. The layout had changed, and a pang of bitterness struck her. She had once been able to enter and leave this study as she pleased, but now it was forbidden territory.

In truth, it wasn’t just the study that had changed. Ever since the Viscount’s death in battle, Lady Judy’s situation had worsened day by day. After Austin received Grand Duke Williams’s favor, things had become even more dire. The steward loyal to Lady Judy had been transferred away, and those who remained all flocked to please the new steward. As Lady Judy’s personal handmaiden, Fili’s status had also plummeted. Even the storeroom steward had begun to covet her.

Fili loathed Austin. She had served Judy since she was a child, and Lady Judy had intended to make her the Viscount’s personal handmaiden. Although the Viscount had unfortunately died in battle, as long as the Lady remained in charge of the Briatte family, Fili could still have hoped for a good future. But now, she could only look forward to becoming the wife of some commoner. And it was all because Austin wanted to usurp the family title.

Fili was powerless to resist her fate; her father was merely an ordinary Vassal. But at some point, the desire to bring down Austin had taken root in Fili’s mind, a notion that grew stronger and stronger until she finally did something she would never have dared to even think of before: stealing a document.

That morning, Fili had noticed the new steward enter the castle, covered in dew. His face was pale and his steps were hurried. He didn’t even respond to his own trusted men who greeted him, instead heading straight for Austin’s study. Not long after, the steward rushed out of the castle again. He had summoned all of Austin’s most trusted knights into the study. It wasn’t until the afternoon that those knights, along with Austin, finally left. Their faces were grim, and a sense of unease filled the castle.

Her intuition told Fili that something had happened, and it was related to the Lady! Fili tried hard to recall the details. She vaguely remembered that the steward had been holding a parchment letter scroll. The image of the scroll grew clearer in her memory, even down to the pattern on it. A voice in the back of her mind told her that she absolutely had to get that letter, that it was crucial!

The study’s layout was no longer the same, but the cabinet where documents were stored was still in its original place. Fili quickly opened the cabinet door. Inside, it was filled with identical parchment scrolls. Fili again recalled the pattern on the scroll and searched rapidly. Soon, her eyes fell upon it.

This is it!

Fili unrolled the letter. Its contents made her gasp and cover her mouth, her eyes wide with shock.

I have to tell the Lady! Fili took the letter, closed the cabinet, and hurried from the study. She forgot to say goodbye to the guards, heading straight for the Lady’s bedchamber. The guards, for their part, showed no reaction, as if Fili were nothing but a wisp of air.

When Fili burst into the viscountess’s bedchamber, Lady Judy was sitting by the bed, lovingly watching her sleeping son. Seeing Fili enter without knocking, she knit her brows and said with displeasure, “Fili, where are your manners?”

Fili quickly curtsied, then stepped forward and whispered, “My Lady, I got the letter.”

“Who told you to do that? You must be mad!”

Fili’s audacity shocked Judy. Given their current situation, if this were exposed, she wouldn’t be able to protect her personal handmaiden.

In truth, Judy had already admitted defeat.

Ever since the Viscount’s death, Austin had taken command of the family’s army and been promoted to Great Knight for his role in fending off the Ant-man. After the Ant-man plague, the Briatte family rewarded those who had distinguished themselves. Austin fought to secure manors for the landless family Knights. To maintain stability, Judy had no choice but to carve up the Viscount’s personal domain to reward these newly established Knights. As a result, they became Austin’s supporters.

Austin’s actions, buying loyalty at the expense of the family’s interests, had put Judy on alert, but she hadn’t been worried that he would try to seize the right of succession. Inheritance by blood-kin was enshrined in the Radiant Code, and primogeniture was a system established over thousands of years by the lordly class to ensure families wouldn’t fall into infighting and break apart.

Although Austin was a Great Knight, he was not qualified to challenge this tradition of the lords. He would find no acceptance within the family, and other lords would never tolerate such an act. Everyone believed that the Briatte family should be inherited by Primo, with Austin acting as his guardian and wielding the family’s power until he came of age. Judy even had the backing of House Sorim.

House Sorim was the source of the Briatte family’s Bloodline, and it was their duty and obligation to uphold primogeniture. Although House Sorim had declined, they were still far superior to the Briatte family in both strength and influence. However, Grand Duke Williams had extended a hand of Aid to Austin, changing the entire situation for the Briatte family.

With Williams’s support, House Sorim no longer pressured Austin. Austin began to trim the family’s “excess population,” and no matter how dissatisfied the expelled subjects were, it was useless. Those who remained, however, became utterly subservient to Austin, filled with gratitude.

With a powerful ally without and popular support within, Austin was only waiting for the Church’s approval to inherit the family title. Judy realized the grand tide of affairs had turned against her. Now, she just wanted to wait for the dust to settle, then take her son and leave Wildwillow City to live a peaceful life.

That afternoon, Fili had told Judy what she had seen, but Judy had not agreed to let her steal the document. And yet, Fili had done it anyway.

Ignoring Judy’s angry expression, Fili handed her the scroll and said, “My Lady, this is a private letter from Grand Duke Williams to Austin. It says that Her Majesty the Queen has pressured Williams, and the Grand Duke can no longer help Austin. My Lady, the Grand Duke has abandoned Austin! Young Master Primo can inherit the family title again!”

“What!” Judy took the letter. As she read, a mist clouded her beautiful eyes. She clutched Fili’s hand and choked out, “This is wonderful! Wonderful! Fili, my sister, thank you, thank you.”

“My Lady, what are you planning to do?” Fili asked.

Judy composed herself and thought carefully for a moment. “Without the Grand Duke’s support, Austin no longer has the standing to trample on the family’s succession rights. I will send someone to inform House Sorim and ask them to intervene.”

“My Lady, before that, we have to make sure the Young Master stays alive!”

“That’s…” Judy was suddenly struck by the realization that this was the most dangerous moment. Austin would very likely murder Primo in order to inherit the family title.

“What do we do? What do we do?” Judy paced the room, at a complete loss. After a moment, she said, “We’ll take this letter and leave tonight, seek refuge with House Sorim. Yes! That’s what we’ll do! Fili, hurry and pack, we’re leaving at once!”

Judy began to gather her things, but Fili stood there, motionless.

“Fili?”

Fili took a step forward, stared into Judy’s eyes and said, “My Lady, Austin is a Great Knight. He’s more valuable to House Sorim!”

Judy was captivated by the deep gaze in Fili’s eyes. Her consciousness blurred for a moment, and she felt that Fili was the most trustworthy person in the world. She asked involuntarily, “Then what should we do?”

“My Lady, the only one who can protect us now is Her Majesty the Queen! We should find a way to get to the Royal Capital and live there until the Young Master comes of age. Then he can return to inherit his title. Only then will Austin not dare to act rashly.”

Fili’s voice echoed in Judy’s ears, causing her to naturally fill in the details herself.

As the leading power among the southern lords, House Sorim had declined, and their influence over the Southern Bloodline lords was waning. Grand Duke Williams had supported Austin to strengthen the royal family’s control over the Southern Bloodline lords, but the Queen would not tolerate an Uncle usurping his nephew’s inheritance, which was why Austin’s actions had triggered such a strong backlash from Her Majesty. House Sorim, on the other hand, would be more willing to win over a Great Knight to expand their influence; they just couldn’t show it openly. If she took Primo to House Sorim, it was very likely they would be put under house arrest, or even killed!

“Fili, what should we do?”

Having grasped the crux of the matter, Judy became extremely reliant on her maid. She didn’t realize how Fili could possess such wisdom, nor did she consider that the Queen’s situation was different from her own. Prince Edward was not the first in line for the throne; his claim came after Grand Duke Williams’s!

“My Lady, our only way out is to travel to the Royal Capital by way of the Centaur Hills and seek the protection of Her Majesty the Queen! It’s the safest escape route because the York family wouldn’t even bat an eye at a mere Great Knight!”

Judy nodded. “You’re right! My father’s fief is near the Centaur Hills. I’ll ask him to send men to escort us into the Hills, and then we’ll find a way to the Royal Capital.”

“No!” Fili objected. “My Lady, that would implicate your father and your brother, and it would expose our movements. We must go by ourselves, in secret.”

Judy said without hesitation, “Alright! I’ll listen to you.” Then she added, troubled, “But we have no guards. How will we get to the Royal Capital?”

“Leave it to me!” Fili said with a soft laugh.

In the candlelight, Fili’s smile was indescribably eerie.

As Lady Judy’s carriage left Wildwillow City, two men sat around a campfire in a quiet forest. One of the men’s eyes were completely white.

A tiny black dot appeared in the white eyes, gradually expanding into a normal pupil. The man exhaled deeply and said weakly, “It’s done. Let’s set out as well.”

The other man, who was small and slight, asked, “In such a hurry? Thousand Faces has only just completed their task.”

The man gave a wry smile. “The time was too short. I could only bewitch them through the maid for three days. We must reach the Randell Fief before they do. After we complete the mission, we leave immediately.”

The small man frowned. “What if those guards you bewitched come to their senses and hand the viscountess and her son over to Austin?”

“It’s not that simple!” the man said with a smug laugh. “I only amplified the desires in their hearts and guided their actions; I didn’t control them. From the moment they threw their lot in with the viscountess, there was no turning back. They’ll just keep reassuring themselves, convinced that they made the right choice.”

“Mortals are always so good at deceiving themselves!”

“After all, I am a Corruptor!”

Chapter 199: The Sacred Mark

In the early morning, sunlight dispersed the mist in the forest. Crystalline dewdrops hung from the leaves, reflecting points of light.

Two figures emerged from the dense thicket of shrubs. Branches swayed, and dewdrops fell like rain, soaking the fronts of their clothes.

They were two men dressed as farmers. One was tall and powerfully built, while the other appeared short and scrawny. The smaller farmer briskly pushed aside the bushes, then turned to find his companion panting, unable to move. He mocked, “Fain, haven’t you recovered yet? I carried you on my back all night and ran hundreds of kilometers without any trouble. You’re in terrible shape, aren’t you?”

The tall farmer plopped onto the ground, wiped the water from his face, and complained, “Hagen, I’m lucky I wasn’t jounced to death by you.”

Hagen yelled, “I can’t turn into a horse! Besides, you were the one who told me to get ahead of the Viscount’s wife. If we delay things, how am I supposed to answer to the Council President?”

“It would have been a real problem if you’d jounced me to death!” Fain found a large rock, lay down on it, and said resentfully, “I need to rest for a bit. Go get me something to eat. You bounced yesterday’s dinner right out of me.”

Hagen asked cautiously, “What if the maid goes beyond your sensory range? Thousand Faces isn’t with them, so they could be intercepted by Austin’s men at any moment!”

“She’s already beyond my sensory range,” Fain said weakly.

“You—why didn’t you say so sooner!” Hagen was about to flare up, but then he remembered the Corruptor’s importance to the Shadow Council and could only say with vexation, “If you had told me earlier, I could have run a bit slower so we wouldn’t have lost our sense of them. What if they get cut off by Austin’s men?”

Seeing his companion had no intention of hunting, Fain had to explain, “You’ve never worked with me before, so you don’t understand my abilities. I planted a seed in that maid’s consciousness. She’ll act according to the thoughts I’ve woven, all while believing them to be her own ideas. When they get to Randell Fief, she will urge the Viscount’s wife to disguise herself as a freeman and stay for three days. That’s more than enough time for Austin to catch up. Moreover, for those three days, she will possess a charming ability. As long as she doesn’t encounter a Knight, any other soldier will be captivated by her and will only help them. And even if they do meet a Knight, it doesn’t matter. How many Knights does the Briatte family even have? Austin’s trusted Knights are all in Wildwillow City, and the rest are sympathetic to the Viscount’s wife.”

“I told you to hurry so we’d have time to find one of Viscount Randell’s guards and guide him to assassinate the Viscount. Do you understand now? I don’t need to sense the maid at all. But if you don’t let me rest properly, I won’t be able to corrupt the Viscount’s guard.”

“Oh, so that’s how it is!” Hagen rubbed his head in embarrassment and said, “You wait here. I’ll get you something to eat right away.”

Hagen stood up straight, sniffed the air, and his gaze shifted toward the forest, his ears twitching.

“Over there.”

Before his voice had faded, Hagen dissolved into a gray shadow, vanishing in an instant. Fain only saw branches shaking as a path was forcibly torn through the dense undergrowth.

A moment later, Hagen returned carrying two fat badgers. He deftly sliced through the thick fur with his fingers, gutted the prey, removed the innards, and skewered them on branches. Next, he gathered some dry twigs and fallen leaves, piled them up, then opened his mouth and spat out a spark, instantly igniting the damp firewood into an orange flame. Before long, the prey was roasted to a golden brown. The two men each took one and began to eat ravenously.

Fain swallowed a mouthful of roasted meat with difficulty, then took out a lambskin wineskin and took a satisfying swig. The rich aroma of the wine made the nearby Hagen gulp, the sound as loud as the low growl of a sabertooth tiger.

To think such a scrawny body could make such a loud noise just by swallowing saliva, Fain thought. No wonder the Council calls him the Beast King.

Fain shook his head and passed the wineskin to Hagen, saying begrudgingly, “You can only have one sip!”

It was too late. Fain snatched back the now-empty wineskin and cried out in anguish, “That was an eighty-year-old vintage Dumu wine! It wasn’t easy for me to get!”

Hagen wiped his mouth and said, still savoring the taste, “That really is good wine! Where did you get it? When the bounty for this mission comes in, I’m going to buy a whole barrel!”

“Hmph, a barrel?” Fain said angrily. “You can’t buy this kind of top-quality Dumu wine even if you have the money! I got this in Red Port by giving a mental suggestion to Raymond Peter’s steward. Raymond Peter is Duke Peter’s heir!”

“One day, we’ll be great Nobles too! When that time comes, what good things won’t we have?” Hagen said, full of longing.

Fain’s mention of Raymond Peter reminded Hagen of Fire Crow and Soul-Shatterer. He asked, “By the way, it seems Soul-Shatterer died in the Centaur Hills. Was the person Fire Crow told him to kill Viscount Randell?”

“It must have been him,” Fain said with a dark expression. “By killing Viscount Randell this time, I’ll be avenging Fire Crow and Soul-Shatterer.”

“Fire Crow was an idiot! Soul-Shatterer was killed because of him. If you all had just waited a bit longer, the Council President would have been able to solve the problem of Soul-Shatterer’s backlash,” Hagen corrected him.

Fain’s expression turned ugly. Thinking of the mysterious and unfathomable Shadow Council President, he asked curiously, “Can the Council President really block the Demon-Detecting Prayer from finding us?”

“Of course!” Hagen said with pride and admiration. “If he couldn’t, why would the Council President have us carry out this mission? As long as the Council President is with us, one day, we will become Nobles like the Knights and enjoy the tribute of mortals.”

“Fire Crow was a moron. He got Soul-Shatterer killed and almost got you killed too,” Hagen said, sidling up to Fain and fawning over him. “The Council President said he will propose to the council that you take over Fire Crow’s position. With your abilities, you’ll definitely become a Vice-Speaker! In the future, you’ll be a Duke at the very least!”

Fain’s heart burned with ambition. He nodded and said, “Yes! We should first take care of the matter our lord assigned us.”

With their bellies full of food and wine, the two fell silent and lay down to rest. When the sun was directly overhead, Fain got up, full of energy, and said, “Let’s go. We’re heading to Viscount Randell’s fief. What was the name of that village again?”

“Rivermouth Village.”

The two walked toward the heart of Randell Fief, chatting and laughing. As they neared a valley, Fain thought of something and said worriedly, “Oh, right, I think there are dire wolves in Randell Fief. I can’t deal with those beasts.”

Hagen walked into the valley nonchalantly, saying as he went, “Don’t worry! I can hear any movement within a few hundred meters, and I can smell beasts and people within a kilometer. If we really run into a dire wolf, I’ll skin it. The hide would fetch a good price. It’s a pity there are only ground-rats around…”

His words came to an abrupt halt. Hagen froze, staring intently ahead. Fain followed his companion’s gaze, and his pupils instantly constricted to pinpricks.

A hundred meters away, an old man was placing harvested herbs into a basket on his back. He was short and withered, his movements skilled and nimble. If not for the glaringly out-of-place priest’s cassock he wore, he would have looked like an old farmer.

Seeing the old priest look over at them, Fain tugged at the rigid and motionless Hagen. He walked toward the old priest, bowing with great deference and said, “Good day, Father.”

“Good day, Father,” Hagen also said, bowing respectfully to the priest.

“May the Lord bless you,” the old priest said, touching his own forehead before asking kindly, “I am Father Miller, the head priest of Randell Fief. Where are you heading, my children?”

“Father. My name is Fain, and this is Hagen. We are freemen from Bryat’s fief. We heard that Randell Fief is recruiting, so we came here to make a living. Could you point us in the right direction?” Fain said cheerfully, showing no flaws in his story.

Hagen was a little uneasy. He had just heard the sound of ground-rats digging, but he hadn’t heard the old priest’s movements at all. However, although he didn’t know why he hadn’t detected the old priest, as long as the priest didn’t perform a Demon-Detecting Prayer, it would be impossible for him to identify a Wizard. If the Church had truly identified them, a group of Sacred Warriors should be waiting here, not a lone old priest gathering herbs. Moreover, the Council President had cast a spell on them, and Hagen had complete faith in the President’s power.

With this thought, Hagen gradually relaxed. He heard the old priest say, “Follow this path west, and you’ll find a river. Follow the riverbank south, and you’ll see Rivermouth Village.”

“Thank you, Father,” Hagen said, nodding and bowing obsequiously. He then pulled Fain along and started to walk away.

“Wait!”

The two of them froze in their tracks and slowly turned back around. They heard the old priest say, “Randell Fief is no longer recruiting farmers. Viscount Randell has ordered that any unattached men who enter the fief without permission from an outpost will be charged as poachers. If you’re caught by the guards, you will serve two years of hard labor. I advise you to go back.”

Fain breathed a sigh of relief. He already knew about Randell Fief’s rule of only accepting freemen families and not single men, but as long as he could get into the fief, these were not problems.

“Father, we truly cannot find work in Bryat’s fief. Even if it means two years of hard labor, as long as we can eat our fill, we don’t mind.”

Father Miller shook his head, speechless. The two men bowed to him again, then, still stooped over, they took two steps back, turned, and walked away.

“Alas…”

When Fain and Hagen were thirty meters away, a sigh echoed from the depths of their hearts. The sense of compassion in it shook them to their core, and they found they could no longer take another step.

Hagen spun around and asked sharply, “Who in the world are you?”

Father Miller spoke as if to himself, “If you had turned back just now, I could have pretended I knew nothing. Unfortunately, this distance is the fate you have chosen for yourselves. Now that you have taken this step, everything is different. You can only greet destruction, or rebirth.”

Fain narrowed his eyes and sneered, “Fate? Are you the Pope? To be able to stop us here… could it be Great Divination?”

“Great Divination can see fragments of the future and can also alter its course, but that is all. Any one change will bring about many more changes; no one knows what the future holds. The future is chaos. In the face of chaos, even my Lord must grope his way forward. The only thing that determines fate is your own choice, my lords, the Chosen. I am not the Pope. I am just an ordinary priest,” Miller said, shaking his head.

“A priest is calling us the Chosen? Are you really a priest?” Fain asked in astonishment.

The clergy of the Church called Wizards Evildoers, Heretics, the spawn of Devils. For a priest to call a Wizard one of the Chosen was a blasphemous sin that would surely be pursued by the Inquisition. Yet Father Miller spoke without a care, “I show respect for the beings behind you. Even if they seek to destroy us humans, power is still power.”

Hagen chuckled. “You actually respect the things we cast aside. It’s just as the Council President said: the Lord of Radiance is nothing more than a powerful Whisperer, and you holy charlatans are just Wizards yourselves.”

“Slandering one’s opponents is what the weak do. To me, it is meaningless,” Miller said flatly. “And the Lord of Radiance is no Whisperer.”

While Hagen sneered, Fain cautiously tested the waters, “Can we turn back now?”

Miller looked up at the sky, shook his head, and sighed, “It is too late. With that last step, you can no longer turn back. Soon, another being will notice you. Although they have faded, they have always viewed the entities behind you as prey. I cannot take that risk!”

“Hmph! Who are you trying to fool? I’m certain now that you’re all alone!” Hagen took a deep sniff of the air.

“If you were ordinary Chosen, I would have let you pass,” Miller said with regret.

A thought struck Fain. He asked, “You know about our Shadow Council?”

Miller nodded. Hagen spat disdainfully and mocked, “What do you know! The Shadow Council existed even before the Pantheon. The Pantheon is finished, but our Shadow Council is still going strong. Our foundation is beyond your imagination!”

“Child, the history of the Shadow Council and the Pantheon is longer than that of the Radiant Church, but they will inevitably perish.”

“Why?” Fain asked curiously.

“Don’t you understand yet? Their goal is the destruction of humanity. If humanity is destroyed, how can they continue to exist?” Miller said with a bitter smile.

“Nonsense! Our Shadow Council has never thought of destroying humanity. We have already blocked out the Whisperers. The Council President will lead us to defeat the beastmen and monsters. We will restore the glory of the Chosen and become the pillar of humanity!” Hagen retorted loudly.

Miller was silent for a moment before saying, “Your Council President has deceived you.”

Fain grabbed the fuming Hagen and asked with a frown, “Father Miller, where is your scepter? Without a scepter of White Crystal, are you truly confident you can defeat us?”

Clergy were limited in the number of divine arts they could cast each day, and White Crystals could store these arts. Therefore, a scepter inlaid with White Crystals could greatly enhance a priest’s spellcasting ability. The members of the Shadow Council all knew this secret. From the very beginning, Fain and Hagen had been probing Miller’s strength. They had already confirmed that there was no ambush and had not detected any powerful equipment on Miller.

Miller said awkwardly, “They didn’t issue one to me. But I don’t need one, either. Some devout followers do not pray in the Church, but their prayers still generate holy power. The main function of White Crystals is to collect this scattered holy power. My Lord permits me to use this holy power. Look, like this.”

A soft ball of light appeared in Miller’s palm. This was a priest’s most basic divine art: the Light spell. It had no offensive power and could only be used for illumination. Seeing this, both Fain and Hagen were speechless.

Hagen couldn’t help but roar with laughter. A flash of insight struck Fain, and he yelled, “Attack now! He’s stalling for time!”

Hagen’s eyes gleamed with malice as he roared, “Just a priest! I’d kill even a Gold Knight for you to see!”

The sound was like thunder, his final words transforming into an inhuman bellow.

Hagen’s pupils became terrifying vertical slits. With a powerful push from his feet, the earth beneath him cracked. In the blink of an eye, he crossed the thirty-meter distance. In that same blink, black runes flashed across his skin as it sprouted dense scales. His clothes were torn to shreds as his body swelled into a four-meter-long monster. With horns on its head, sharp teeth and claws, a thick, long tail, and powerful limbs, it was a perfect humanoid dragon, flames gathering in its mouth.

The humanoid dragon that Hagen had become charged toward Miller with unstoppable force and presence, its sharp claws swiping down at the old priest’s head. Hagen was certain that even a Gold Knight would be torn to shreds!

However, Miller was not torn to shreds.

In that same blink of an eye, Hagen charged into the range of the Light spell. At the same speed with which he had transformed, he reverted back to his human form.

An instant later, Hagen’s hand came to rest on Miller’s shoulder. He stared blankly as he withdrew his now softly glowing hand, muttering, “What… what’s happening to me?”

“This is the Light spell. You have become clergy now,” Miller said with regret.

“Why is this happening?” Fain also looked at the light emanating from his own hands, asking in confusion.

“Only the devout can become clergy, but there is one exception: Paladins. A Knight without unwavering conviction is no Knight at all! They have glimpsed the vastness of the Elemental Sea and will never again believe in another great being, for no power can compare to the Elemental Sea—not even my Lord. Honoring an agreement, my Lord granted the Knights permission to use divine arts, and he left a Sacred Mark in their bloodline. I have been trying to reconstruct this Sacred Mark, hoping to use it to sever the sight of those other beings. I’m sorry to say, I have failed,” Miller shook his head in shame.

“Are you the Pope?” Hagen asked calmly.

Miller shook his head again. “I am not the Pope. I am just a priest.”

“What rank priest are you?” Fain asked, unwilling to accept his fate.

“According to the Church’s standards, I am a second-rank commoner priest.”

Fain laughed at himself. “How frustrating! To be defeated by a second-rank priest before I even had a chance to use my abilities.”

“In terms of divine art rankings, the new art I created would be considered ninth-level. If that makes you feel any better.”

As Miller spoke to himself, the two Wizards unwittingly dissolved into two orbs of pure light. The glow gradually faded, leaving not a single trace behind.

The priest squatted down and continued to dig for herbs.

An alchemical crow flew in from the distance, circled twice over the valley, and then flew away. In its red eyes was a cold indifference that disregarded all living things, like that of a lofty deity.

Chapter 200: The Lord’s Will

On the eve of the Season of Water, the first reservoir was finally completed. Victor and Nicole stood hand in hand on its edge, their hearts swelling with emotion.

From a distance, the reservoir looked like an irregular, giant bowl embedded in the ground. Up close, it was just an ugly, giant pit. But this ugly pit was an unprecedented feat. It was the first step for humankind in this other world to reshape nature, representing a new chapter in human civilization.

The reservoir was over two hundred mu in size, shaped like a funnel, and reached a depth of twenty-two meters at its deepest point. As soon as the river water was diverted into it, it would transform into a lake of shimmering turquoise water.

While a two-hundred-mu lake couldn’t irrigate much farmland, the irrigation channels extending from it could turn this barren land into fertile fields. Of course, the main channel connecting to the Goldwater River had to be built first. Until then, this reservoir was merely a giant cistern.

Victor felt that now was not the right time to build the main channel, and it wasn’t for lack of manpower.

The commoners of this world seemed to have a natural talent for construction, as if every one of them was a mason. Victor was amazed by their engineering capabilities whenever they were organized.

These able-bodied laborers had 1.3 times the strength and 1.5 times the stamina of people from Earth. They worked from dawn till dusk, doing nothing but work and eat, and could truly be called diligent and steadfast. The nine thousand laborers, equipped with only simple tools and man-powered carts, had finished the reservoir in just two months. The earth they had excavated could form a small hill. At this rate, as long as the laborers worked, ate, and got paid, they could build the main channel in another four months. However, as the organizer and decision-maker, Victor had other problems to consider.

The Randell Fief stretched one hundred and ten kilometers from south to north. To build an irrigation channel that spanned the entire territory, the nine thousand able-bodied laborers would have to work for at least three years, but the York family could only cover the expenses for two. After two years, Victor would have to bear the engineering costs himself. And this was no small sum!

Each of the nine thousand laborers earned four Copper Sols per day, plus two meals, for a total labor cost of eight Copper Sols. Therefore, the monthly cost for wages and food alone was two thousand Gold Sols, and this did not even include logistics and management costs.

The most crucial problem was that even with money, he might not be able to hire enough people. These able-bodied men were working so hard to obtain the status of subjects under the York family; they were not willing to spend their lives digging ditches.

This meant that Victor would not only have to bear the full cost of the project but also recruit freemen as laborers himself.

It was expensive and short on labor. Not even the York family believed the man-made channel could span the entire Centaur Hills. So long as they had the stream reservoirs, they would be satisfied, even though the water source for a stream reservoir was unstable and its irrigation capacity was quite limited.

Victor had devised the strategy of funding the canals with the sale of bricks, which gave the lords a glimmer of hope. Yet, Victor discovered that things were not so simple. The problem lay with the Chapman family.

Constructing the reservoir had generated a massive amount of earth. This earth was transported to Nicole’s giant brick kiln, processed into clay, and then used to manufacture ordinary green bricks.

So far, Victor had over two million six hundred thousand green bricks on hand. Of this huge quantity, he had used eight hundred thousand himself, while the Chapman family had only bought two hundred thousand! Such low sales were nowhere near enough to support the green brick industry!

The Chapman family’s reluctance to purchase green bricks in large quantities wasn’t just due to stinginess; their inherent disadvantages were the objective factor.

Like the Randell Fief, the Chapman territory was simply too remote! They were located in the southernmost part of the kingdom, adjacent to the Goldwater River, with only three neighbors: the Randell Fief, Bryat’s fief, and Sorim’s fief.

Fewer neighbors meant fewer trade access points, and fewer trade access points meant poor commercial capabilities.

Currently, Victor could only sell his green bricks to the Chapman family. Due to the Briatte family’s expulsion of its subjects, their relationship with the Chapman family had deteriorated. Therefore, the Chapman family’s only trading partner was Marquis Sorim, which gave House Sorim a trade monopoly. They could squeeze the Chapman family however they pleased, and Earl Chepman was powerless to do anything about it.

In fact, this asymmetrical trade had already caused Victor huge losses.

Take the grain trade, for example. Wheat would spoil after three years of storage, so lords were more than happy to sell the old grain in their warehouses, no matter how low the price. One Copper Sol could often buy two pounds of old wheat. But by the time this old grain reached the Randell Fief, it sold for three Copper Sols per pound. The price had increased sixfold!

There were three main costs involved. The Chapman family’s profit was the smallest share, as they earned almost nothing. Next was the cost of transportation. The final and largest cost was the layers of exploitation by the lords. For every territory the grain purchased by the Chapman family passed through, a transit tax was levied, and this was the biggest expense!

The Chapman family faced the same problem when selling green bricks, which completely wiped out the cost advantage of the giant brick kiln.

The bottleneck in the sales process of the green brick industry was a source of great frustration for Victor. Without the support of the brick industry, the Randell Fief would have to bear the full cost of building the channels alone. In that case, it would be better to build the stream reservoirs first and wait for the green brick market to develop before implementing the strategy of funding the canals with the sale of bricks.

As for how to open up the green brick market, Victor had an ideal trading partner in mind: the Briatte family.

The Briatte Fief was long and narrow, bordering eight other families, making it an excellent trade corridor. However, the political situation in the Briatte family was unstable. An uncle and nephew were fighting for succession, and they had driven out their subjects, causing very poor relations with their neighbors.

Victor decided to wait until the Briatte family’s internal strife settled before trying to contact them. As for their past grudges, what did they matter in the face of overall interests? If the new viscount of the Briatte family refused to be reasonable, it wouldn’t be too late to settle old scores!

Having made up his mind, Victor said to Nicole, “Darling, the reservoir is dug. I plan to let the laborers rest for three days, then organize them to build stream reservoirs in the Randell Fief.”

“Logically, your stream reservoir should have been built first. But we have to consider that once there’s arable land here, the freemen will focus on farming, and it will be difficult to command them then. Only by making the laborers completely dependent on their wages for their livelihood can we ensure they focus on digging the channels.”

“The Randell Fief has a mature agropastoral system. Building a few more stream reservoirs will allow it to produce more grain. That way, I’ll be able to reduce the York family’s material transportation costs,” Victor explained apologetically.

“Mhm! I’ll listen to whatever you say,” Nicole said with a smile.

Victor reached out and wrapped an arm around Nicole’s slender waist, and she leaned into his embrace.

Building stream reservoirs touched upon the core interests of a fief. Any other lord would never have yielded, but Nicole agreed without a moment’s hesitation. In truth, Nicole preferred to be Victor’s woman rather than a lord. She followed his every word, and had completely entrusted him with the management of her territory’s affairs. Although Victor was swamped with work, he also faced far fewer obstacles and enjoyed much more convenience.

Nicole’s unconditional trust and reliance made Victor feel a little ashamed. Nicole had given Victor the greatest support with her background and status as a lord, yet for that very reason, Victor could not fully trust her. It was somewhat ironic, but more than that, it was a helpless situation.

The two held each other quietly, enjoying a moment of warmth. Nicole looked up at Victor, seeming to want to say something but hesitating.

“What do you want to say?” Victor asked curiously.

“I heard that Lady Sylvia is going to choose two Personal handmaidens for you? Are you going to choose the Elina sisters? You are, aren’t you? Of course you are, they’re the most beautiful female apprentice knights in the family.”

Nicole tried to look nonchalant, but her pouting red lips betrayed her true feelings. Victor’s head began to throb, and he could only try to change the subject, “That wasn’t my idea… By the way, how are the talks between the York family and the Erickson family going?”

Nicole’s face lit up. “Duke Erickson was thrown into a prisoner cart by His Highness Duenkel, to be taken back to the Royal Capital of Gambia to face justice. In his capacity as the Erickson family’s guardian, Duenkel has agreed to compensate us with two hundred thousand Gold Sols and build a castle for you as well. Right now, My Lady is negotiating with him over the sphere of influence in the north of the Centaur Hills…”

As she was speaking, a Guard ran over in a hurry and reported to Victor, “My lord, the royal tax collector has arrived at Rivermouth Village.”

——————————————————————————

Rivermouth Village, after several expansions, was a far cry from what it once was.

Standard-issue green brick and tile houses had replaced the wooden shanties. The straight, wide main road was broad enough for three carriages to pass side-by-side. On either side of the road were flowerbeds planted with a row of ornamental trees, which separated the houses from the main road with a small path for pedestrians. This design of a main road, ornamental trees, and a sidewalk was unique to Rivermouth Village.

The only slight imperfection was the crude wooden fence surrounding it. There were no defensive structures like watchtowers or moats inside or outside the fence, which was a clear sign of Victor’s determination to build a city here.

Viscount Tenis walked along the streets of Rivermouth Village with his colleagues and attendants. His impression of the place was that it was exceptionally tidy.

All the houses in Rivermouth Village were made of green brick and tile, and the distance between each house was exactly the same, making all the buildings appear neat and uniform. Despite a light rain that had just fallen, the cobblestone road was not muddy. The air was naturally fresh, with no unpleasant odors. Tenis discovered that cleanliness and tidiness possessed a beauty of their own.

“It’s incredible! This is the cleanest town I’ve ever seen. The air here is even better than in the Nobles’ District of the Royal Capital!”

“Of course it is. The lowly, filthy freemen can’t enter the Nobles’ District, but there are no restrictions on the stench they carry.”

“The problem is, most of the villagers here are also freemen, yet their houses are actually built with green bricks! What a waste…”

“But there’s no artistic atmosphere here. No sculptures, no fountains, no gardens, just rows of identical buildings. It has the air of the nouveau riche. Not like our Nobles’ District in the Royal Capital…”

“I know Viscount Victor, and he is no nouveau riche. The Viscount has an exceptional artistic talent, and his elven bloodline cannot tolerate any uncleanliness. His town reflects that.”

His colleagues conversed in low voices, though they didn’t need to be so cautious. The villagers were all out cultivating the land, so Rivermouth Village was particularly empty. Besides them and the guards from the House of Randell, there was barely a soul on the streets. These sons of nobility didn’t realize that they had unconsciously started treating this place like a Nobles’ District, making an effort to maintain their own decorum.

Tenis could see the surprise, envy, and jealousy in his colleagues. They longed to have a town like this. Tenis was also envious, but what he envied was not the town itself, but the fact that Victor’s will was carried out unimpeded across this land.

The previous evening, Tenis and his party had entered the Randell Fief. They had originally planned to camp in the wild for a night before heading to Rivermouth Village the next day. While they were setting up camp, a patrol of Randell guards found them and escorted them to a village to spend the night.

No one would refuse to spend the night in a village. Although nobles like them could sleep comfortably in their carriages, it was a good thing to let their guards have a decent night’s sleep, not to mention the high village walls meant safety.

It wasn’t the first time Tenis’s colleagues had gone out to collect taxes. They knew full well what a lord’s village looked like: filthy, stinking, with sewage flowing everywhere and the reek of cow dung and goat urine. So, although they entered the village for the night, they didn’t plan to leave their carriages, lest they soil their boots.

These young nobles were not truly delicate. As the kingdom’s tax collectors, sleeping in the open was common, and there was no need for fuss in the wild. But upon arriving at a lord’s village, they had to maintain their airs. How else could they display the grace and nobility of the Royal Capital’s aristocrats?

However, the villages in the Randell Fief left a deep impression on the tax collectors.

A moat, a drawbridge, an Iron-oak fence, watchtowers, and wooden shanties—it wasn’t so different from other lords’ villages. But the entire village was astonishingly clean and orderly.

The paths inside the village were paved with gravel, packed down solid, and had drainage ditches on both sides, which meant there was no standing water or mud on the ground. The wooden shanties in the village had clearly been carefully planned; they were uniform in size and spacing, and very neat.

The village wall was also peculiar. The ten-meter-high Iron-oak fence was enough to fend off ordinary beasts and monsters, but behind it was another wall, three meters thick and over eight meters high. This wall, built with green bricks and rammed earth, not only greatly enhanced the village’s defenses but also provided a firing platform for the militia.

In the Royal Capital of Gambia, green bricks were used to build beautiful manors and villas. It was the first time the tax collectors had ever seen a village wall built of them. They were dumbfounded.

Afterward, the tax collectors discovered many other unusual things. This village had only a little over five hundred villagers, but the cottages could house fifteen hundred people. There were no cattle or sheep in the village, but every household raised wild boars and ground lizards.

Was a village without cattle and sheep still a village?

With this question in mind, Tenis asked Village Head George, who was accompanying them. George told them that in the Randell Fief, cattle and sheep were free-range, while wild boars were raised in pens. The village walls were built with green bricks, and the villages had to be clean and orderly, because that was Lord Randell’s will. The pride in Village Head George’s voice left the tax collectors speechless.

Looking at the neat and clean Rivermouth Village, Tenis felt both envy and awe.

A year ago, Tenis had come to the Randell Fief with his family’s knights. Back then, this place was a barren wasteland. Victor and his dozens of guards had struggled to hold on, living in shanties, eating wild vegetables, and living like savages.

A year later, the Randell Fief had tens of thousands of mu of farmland, thousands of livestock, seven villages, over eight thousand villagers, and several hundred guards. Here, every village, every person, even the cattle, sheep, and wild boars, were carrying out their lord’s will. This was something every lord yearned for.

Viscount Randell was now a lord in every sense of the word!

“Lord Tenis, my master has arrived.”

A guard from the House of Randell pointed to the other end of the road, where a troop of cavalry was approaching, with Viscount Randell at their center.

“Welcome, my friend,” Victor said, dismounting and greeting Tenis with a warm welcome.

Tenis also smiled and bowed. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Lord Randell.”

Victor had a good impression of Viscount Tenis, who had helped him once before.

At that time, Victor was not a vassal lord of the York family and could not enjoy exemption from the annual tribute. The royal court had clearly wanted to use Victor to make things difficult for the York family. They levied a twenty percent tax on the Purple Cane wine trade. If Victor could not pay it, he would face a hefty fine.

How could Victor possibly hand over the Purple Cane wine? It was precisely because the York family monopolized the Purple Cane wine trade that Sophia could continuously transport green wheat and iron materials to him. Victor was also unwilling to pay the twenty thousand Gold Sol fine. He had proposed a solution to pay in installments, and Viscount Tenis had agreed immediately, even offering to pay the fine on Victor’s behalf. To this day, Victor still owed Tenis five thousand Gold Sols and a favor.

This time, Victor not only had to repay the money, but he also had many matters he could cooperate with Viscount Tenis on, such as the Snow Sugar and coffee trade.

“Viscount Tenis, my lords, let’s go to the Village Hall to discuss the matter of the annual tribute.”

Victor walked side by side with Tenis. Before they had taken more than a few steps, a cavalryman galloped toward them. Upon seeing Victor, he tumbled from his horse and gasped, “My lord! One of our patrol squads encountered an enemy and was annihilated!”

Victor’s heart skipped a beat. He commanded in a low voice, “Don’t rush! Speak slowly.”

The cavalryman took a deep breath, glanced at the tax collectors, and said, “My lord, the guard squad responsible for patrolling the eastern border did not arrive at the outpost on time. Lord Narsen personally led a team to investigate and found a group of people burying their bodies. Lord Narsen sent me back to request reinforcements. He said the enemy force consists of five men, all of them Knights!”

Victor was silent for a moment, then turned to Tenis with a smile. “Viscount Tenis, it seems I must attend to some business first.”

“I’ll go with you. I’d like to see for myself which family would dare to violate the Gambis Lords’ Pact and openly invade your territory.”

Chapter 201: Unacceptable

In the eastern part of the Randell Fief, at the edge of a forest, two groups of people faced each other from a hundred meters apart.

One side was numerous and well-equipped. Their swords were drawn, their crossbows were strung, and they pointed their weapons at their opponents with a murderous aura, as if facing a formidable enemy. The atmosphere was tense and solemn. In contrast, the other side consisted of a mere five men. They wore simple leather armor and were surrounded by more than a hundred soldiers, yet they regarded their adversaries as if they were nothing, appearing calm and composed.

The thundering of hooves came from the west, boosting the morale of the larger group, but the five men remained unmoved. Soon, more than a hundred elite cavalrymen arrived at the scene. They surrounded two nobles and trotted to the edge of the encirclement. A warrior, encased from head to toe in adamantine armor like a steel beast, came forward. He pushed up his visor and saluted. “My lord, you’ve arrived.”

Victor nodded and said to his top general, “Narsen, this is Viscount Tenis, the kingdom’s tax collector. You’ve met.”

Narsen quickly bowed to Viscount Tenis beside him. “Viscount, it is a great honor to see you again.”

“Lord Narsen, there is no need for such ceremony. I heard a Knight had trespassed into the Randell Fief, so my colleagues and I came to have a look,” Viscount Tenis said, giving Narsen a reserved nod.

Victor asked, “Narsen, what happened? Where’s our patrol? Are there any survivors?”

Narsen shook his head gravely and led Victor to one side. On the ground lay fifteen corpses covered by white cloths. The pungent smell of blood and the outlines beneath the cloths made it clear to Victor that all these guards had been hacked in two, a truly gruesome death.

Narsen said, “Fifteen patrol soldiers failed to report to the watch post on time. I brought men to investigate and happened to see those people burying the bodies. We then surrounded them. After some negotiation, they admitted to killing the patrol soldiers and returned the bodies to us. They also demanded to speak with you face-to-face. I dared not make a decision on my own, so I sent someone to report the situation to you.”

Victor’s face was expressionless, but inside he was both pained and furious. These fifteen soldiers were all ordinary guards who had followed him for over two years with unwavering loyalty. Their sacrifice was a great loss for the House of Randell.

The household guards of House Randell were all from peasant backgrounds. Unlike the scions of vassals, they had not received military training from a young age, so their martial skills were average. Victor didn’t expect them to have much combat prowess; he only required them to be loyal enough, have a strong will, understand cooperation and command, and be able to boost morale. Victor had positioned them as non-commissioned officers for the grassroots.

In the event of a war, Victor could arm five thousand militia with the finest equipment, but to bring out the militia’s combat effectiveness and galvanize their courage, tactically proficient officers were indispensable. These guards filled that very role.

The Randell Fief currently had a population of over eight thousand, including more than three thousand able-bodied militiamen, but only two hundred and fifty household guards. According to the custom of thirty peasants supporting one household guard, the Randell Fief should have had three hundred guards. However, Victor’s rise had been too swift, and his work point system only had eight hundred or so members. Selecting two hundred and fifty guards from them was already the limit. To lose fifteen guards at once—Victor had no way to replace them.

Victor had considered recruiting guards from among the freemen but had quickly dismissed the idea. The vassal class was a lord’s claws and teeth; not only must they be fierce and sharp, but most importantly, they had to be extensions of their lord’s will. It was not uncommon for vassals to fight against the Church’s forces for their liege lord, which was why the Church never cared about the fate of vassals. In contrast, the Church had immense influence over the freemen. They would go to the Church to pray at the drop of a hat, telling the Father every trivial detail of their lives. Expecting them to protect a lord’s interests was less likely than a pig learning to climb a tree. Unless Victor rebooted the work point system that represented the freemen’s interests, it was more reliable to stick with training the Mountain Folk mercenaries.

“Let’s go! Let’s see who they are,” Victor said through gritted teeth as he walked toward the encirclement.

The guards parted to make a path, and the five men also looked over. Victor met their gaze, and his own eyes narrowed.

The five men had an extraordinary bearing. Even when faced with over a hundred fully armed soldiers and dozens of crossbows glinting coldly, they appeared calm and unhurried. They wore old leather armor. Four of them held a shield in one hand and a heavy cleaver-sword in the other, surrounding a man in the center. The man in the middle stood with his hands empty, a silver-white knight’s greatsword plunged into the ground beside him.

When Victor saw the weapons in their hands, he finally understood why Narsen was certain they were Knights.

The heavy cleaver-sword. This devastating weapon was designed to combat large beastmen. It had a blade 1.8 meters long, weighed 40 pounds, had a blunt tip and a sharp edge, and could slice a centaur in half at the waist. Any light or heavy chainmail and shields of any size would be cut through like bread. However, the heavy cleaver-sword was extremely heavy and difficult to wield. A strong soldier would need to use both hands to swing it, yet the four men opposite him held theirs with a single hand. The purple gleam on their blades was the hallmark of an adamantine weapon. This alone was telling.

Victor silently observed their elemental attributes, and his shock deepened. Among the five men were two Knights and two apprentice knights. The man in the center had 15 points in all four of his attributes. Only a body reforged by the void element would have such balanced, extraordinary attributes. He was undoubtedly a Great Knight.

“Lord Austin Briatte!?” Viscount Tenis exclaimed in shock.

When Austin saw Viscount Tenis beside Victor, he was instantly exasperated.

Two days ago, Williams’s trusted steward had personally delivered a secret letter, informing Austin of the change in circumstances. That very night, Lady Judy had stolen the letter and fled Wildwillow City with the family heir, Primo. This incident pushed Austin to make a decision: eliminate Judy and her son. He led his trusted men in pursuit, catching up to Judy’s carriage just outside the Randell Fief. However, he only captured the guards who had turned traitor; Judy and her son were not inside. After a round of interrogation, the guards confessed that Judy and her son had disguised themselves as freemen and slipped into the Randell Fief.

Austin had no choice. He left his personal guard at the border and took only four of his most trusted Knights into the Randell Fief, hoping to quietly eliminate Judy and her son in the wilderness. But just as they entered the fief, they ran into Victor’s patrol. To maintain secrecy, they had no choice but to kill all the patrol soldiers. However, just as they were disposing of the bodies, they were caught red-handed by the forces of House Randell.

Austin felt he must be cursed. The escape of Judy and her son was originally a good opportunity to get rid of them, but he hadn’t expected to run into a patrol as soon as he entered the Randell Fief. No sooner had he silenced them than he was cornered by House Randell’s army. This string of coincidences had completely foiled Austin’s assassination plan.

What Austin didn’t know was that this was no coincidence at all. Their every move was being watched by the alchemical crows. The defensive network of the Randell Fief was extremely tight. Alchemical crows patrolled the skies above the domain, and any infiltrators would be caught by patrol soldiers and sent to build the reservoir. The only problem was that the alchemical crows couldn’t distinguish between a Knight and a freeman, which was what led to the patrol’s annihilation.

The assassination plan had failed. Even a Great Knight couldn’t hope to wipe out more than a hundred elite soldiers at once. Austin didn’t choose to break through the encirclement either. He hoped to make a deal with Viscount Randell, to exchange some price for Judy and her son. Although the leverage of having killed the family heir would fall into the hands of the York family, it was better than nothing.

Austin was confident he could persuade Victor, because he had decided to secretly pledge allegiance to the York family. Even if the matter was exposed and the royal family retaliated, the York family had the power to shelter him. He might even be able to get a new fief in the Centaur Hills. As for the guards he had killed, Austin hadn’t given them a second thought. However, the appearance of a court noble representing the royal family had foiled Austin’s schemes once again.

This time, it truly was a coincidence!

“Your Lordship Austin, can you explain what has happened here?” Viscount Tenis asked suspiciously.

Austin had no choice but to brace himself and say, “Viscount Tenis, I didn’t expect to meet you here. Lady Judy and Young Master Primo were abducted into the Randell Fief by a group of people. I tracked them here, only to be ambushed. You’ve already seen what happened. I hope Viscount Randell can give me an explanation!”

Victor understood perfectly; he was well aware of the struggle for succession within the Briatte family. Lady Judy and her son had definitely disappeared. It was highly likely they had passed through a border post and slipped into a village in the Randell Fief, and Austin was here to cut the grass and pull up the roots.

“Lord Austin, you say I sent men to abduct Lady Judy and the heir to the Briatte family. Do you have any proof? On the other hand, you lot, disguised, carrying heavy cleaver-swords, sneaking into the Randell Fief and murdering my soldiers—what exactly are you planning? Do you take us for fools?!” Victor retorted sarcastically.

Austin said coolly, “Perhaps it was Lady Judy who admired My Lord and thus brought Young Master Primo into the Randell Fief. Lord Randell, Lady Judy may stay, but I must take the family heir back with me!”

Even Tenis could see what was happening. Austin was accusing Victor of interfering in the internal affairs of the Briatte family, while Victor was accusing Austin of intending to murder the family heir. Tenis couldn’t be sure if the York family had intervened in the Briatte family’s succession, but he was certain that Austin’s intentions were malicious.

As for Lady Judy and Victor having an ambiguous relationship, Tenis didn’t believe it for a moment. Although Lady Judy was renowned for her beauty, in terms of looks, charm, nobility, and bloodline, how could she possibly compare to Sylvia? Moreover, everyone believed that Victor was Sylvia’s exclusive paramour. No one would believe Victor would dare to fool around behind Sylvia’s back.

Austin was just saying that as an excuse and a way to save face. In fact, many families used this as a pretext to start disputes. When a lord coveted a piece of his neighbor’s territory, he would use the excuse that the other party had seduced his wife to start a war. No matter who won or lost, it was over a woman, not territory. This way, both sides could save face, and the lord’s wife would only feel smug about it.

What Austin didn’t know was that this was the one thing Victor could not tolerate.

Victor had two sets of memories. He most identified with his memories from Earth and had built his values upon them, while the little Baron’s past filled Victor with a deep sense of humiliation.

This world had no concept of male superiority; a noble’s status was unrelated to gender, depending only on background, power, bloodline, and strength. The little Baron had awakened an elven bloodline and could not become a Knight, but his looks and physique surpassed even those of a Silver Knight, which made him coveted by high-ranking noblewomen. Victor had reviewed the little Baron’s memories. In the royal palace, he had been “tutored” in “courtly etiquette” by at least four noblewomen. It was not until the little Baron married Sophia that he was protected, but his status as a male pet had already spread throughout noble circles and persisted to this day. How could Victor possibly endure this?!

Victor had originally planned to weigh the pros and cons, but now he only wanted to use Austin’s life to quell his own anger and proclaim the might of the House of Randell.

“Your Lordship Austin, not only did you murder my soldiers, you have also slandered my name. Only your blood can wash away my shame. A pitched battle! Let’s have a pitched battle!” Victor said coldly.

Austin didn’t expect Victor to be so resolute. He couldn’t help but suspect this was a trap set by the York family. Austin hesitated for a moment, then probed, “As far as I know, the House of Randell has no Knights. Are you planning to have Lord Narsen duel me?”

Victor scoffed, “I said a pitched battle, not a Knight’s duel. If you think it’s unfair, you can bring all of your personal guards. Aren’t they lying in ambush just five kilometers away?”

A chill ran through Austin’s heart. He became even more certain that he had fallen into an ambush set by the York family. He said, “Perhaps there’s been some misunderstanding, I—”

“No misunderstanding! You can either try to break out and await the Church’s judgment on the charge of murdering the family heir. Or, you can bring your personal guard here and have a fair pitched battle with my men. If you win, you can search my domain. If you lose, then you won’t have to worry about anything else!” Victor turned to Tenis and requested, “Viscount Tenis, I hope you will bear witness.”

Tenis was not optimistic about Victor’s chances; he knew full well how terrifying a Silver Knight was. But as a court noble loyal to the royal family, Tenis had no reason to stop this pitched battle. A conflict between the Briatte family and the York family was in the royal family’s best interests. Tenis believed Austin wouldn’t dare to harm Victor, nor could Victor harm Austin. The more guards died below them, the more it would weaken their control over their fiefs, which was even more beneficial for the royal family.

Thinking this, Tenis sighed and said, “Viscount Randell, personally, I do not wish to see you two fight. It would be best for the royal family to mediate. But if you insist, I will do as you wish.”

“I insist!” Victor said resolutely.

Austin nodded and said indifferently, “In that case, I will also do as you wish! However, I still hope you can hand Primo over to me. You will surely earn my friendship.”

“That won’t be necessary!” Victor smiled contemptuously and waved his hand. “Let them go!”

The guards moved to both sides, quickly forming a phalanx in front of Victor. Austin gave Victor a deep look, then led his men away to the east.

Tenis and his colleagues gathered on the other side. They never expected to see such a good show while out collecting taxes. These noble scions excitedly discussed the etiquette and significance of a family’s pitched battle.

Narsen also gripped his axe excitedly and asked Victor, “My lord, what if they don’t dare to come?”

“Don’t dare to come? Then we’ll take the fight to them!” Victor finished speaking, then summoned a guard and ordered, “Release the Ash Falcon. Have all the Village Heads find Lady Judy and her son!”

The guard went to carry out the order. Narsen, at his side, asked again, “My lord, how are we going to fight?”

Victor smiled and clapped him on his pauldron. “First, go change into a suit of Ant-man armor. Then, we annihilate them all!”

“Like how we killed the Ant-man chief?”

“Just like how we killed the Ant-man chief!”

Chapter 202: Baring Its Fangs

The pitched battle originated in the early days of the vassalage system, an extension of the knight’s duel. Its emergence marked the beginning of the vassal class playing an important role in the political, economic, and military activities of humanity. Together with the knightly nobility, they formed the ruling class of human society and gained a certain degree of influence.

Previously, the ownership of a fief could be decided by a knight’s duel or a political marriage, but the vassals would not accept this. Even if their knightly liege was defeated and killed in a duel, the vassals would use their castle’s defenses to tenaciously resist the invasion of an enemy family, all to protect their own property and interests. In later years, vassals constantly implored their knightly lieges not to engage in pointless duels, for they too were a force that could not be ignored.

The knight’s duel lost its decisive significance. When two families of comparable strength each possessed impenetrable castles, they would attack each other back and forth, neither able to overcome the other. Yet their lands grew increasingly desolate, and both sides suffered immense losses. Finally, one side proposed: a fair, pitched battle to determine the victor!

Thus, new human kingdoms were born from one pitched battle after another. This new form of government, unlike the old kingdoms which were essentially leagues of lords, emphasized the power of the monarch. It was more cohesive and organized, a magnified version of the vassalage system itself.

Because small-scale pitched battles were insufficient to reflect a kingdom’s true strength, wars between kingdoms were no longer decided by them. At the same time, to prevent internal strife and annexation, the King refused to recognize any private combat agreements. Any pitched battle fought between lords was fought in vain; their disputes could only be handed over to the House of Nobles for mediation and the Senate for arbitration.

The struggles between lords shifted from open conflict to covert maneuvering, and the pitched battle faded from the stage of history.

Though the pitched battle no longer met the needs of the times, the honor, martial valor, and loyalty it represented were still championed by the lordly class. This led to duels and pitched battles being endlessly glorified and praised in human poetry and literature, taking on a sacred meaning and forming a unique set of rituals.

First, a duel or pitched battle could only be initiated when one’s dignity had been trampled. If the provocateur refused to accept, they would be deemed a coward.

Second, a pitched battle was solely for washing away shame; any agreements made would not be supported by law. In practice, however, as long as the annexation of a fief was not involved, other agreements were still honored. This was a matter of a lord’s reputation, and failing to honor one’s word would result in ridicule from all.

Finally, harming those who had surrendered was forbidden in a pitched battle. A soldier who threw down their weapon was considered a surrendered captive. Surrender meant the loss of honor and courage; even if ransomed, they would no longer be a vassal. Therefore, the vast majority of soldiers would rather die than surrender.

In Victor’s view, no matter how much you glorified it, a pitched battle was just a prearranged brawl, a group fight to the death. However, any struggle involving the ruling class was a brutal war. And every war had a purpose!

The old mercenary, Baritt, walked up to Victor’s side and bowed. “My lord, everything is arranged. The twenty old pals will each lead a nine-man combat squad. Each squad is composed of six elite soldiers and three new recruits. They will act according to my flag and drum signals to slaughter the Briatte family’s common soldiers. Narsen will lead forty elite soldiers to deal with their knights and apprentice knights. Austin and his heavy crossbowmen can only be handled by you personally.”

Victor smiled. “Don’t worry, leave them to me.” Then, he asked hesitantly, “Can we pull the new recruits back and have my elite soldiers take their place? They haven’t had enough training, after all. I’m worried…”

“My lord, this is the best training!” Baritt interrupted Victor. “If we don’t let them fight, what’s the use of having them? If they retreat this time, they will never have the courage to fight again.”

“A soldier who fears battle is useless. They might as well go back to farming.”

Narsen, clad in pitch-black Ant-man armor and carrying two ferocious Adamantine battleaxes, came before Victor.

“My lord, don’t worry about the new recruits’ safety. My only concern is that fellow Austin won’t dare to come,” Narsen said in a flat tone, devoid of any tension or excitement for the impending battle.

“They will definitely come,” Victor said confidently.

Judy and her son had been found, and Victor had also learned of the turmoil within the Briatte family. Austin had offended the neighboring lords, earned the Queen’s dislike, and failed in his plot to assassinate the family heir. He had no path of retreat.

Victor could see that Austin intended to pledge allegiance to the York family, but what did that have to do with him? If Austin were truly sincere, he should have renounced his own surname, fully joined the York family, and let Judy and her son take control of Bryat’s fief. The York family had no need for a duplicitous Great Knight as a lord. The Briatte family would become a natural ally of the York family, and Austin himself would receive his own fief. That would have served everyone’s interests. However, Austin, blinded by greed, had slapped Victor in the face. He was seeking his own doom.

Was Victor’s face so easily slapped? In terms of conventional military strength, no lord could compare to Victor. Eliminating Austin would not only serve as a warning to others but also allow him to support Judy and her son, thereby gaining indirect control over Bryat’s fief. Victor had the power to do so.

“They’re here.” Without needing the alchemical crow, Victor sensed movement in the woods.

More than two hundred fully armed soldiers appeared on the designated battlefield. Austin had changed into Adamantine armor and held a Mithril executioner’s sword, looking majestic as he strode at the front. Beside him were two more armored knights. Under their lead, the army of the Briatte family was imposing and suffused with a frosty killing intent, looking as if victory was already in their grasp.

“My lord, I’m going!” Narsen’s voice was as calm as ever, but a bloodthirsty desire glinted in his steel-like gaze.

The soldiers of both sides faced each other from a distance, the cold light of their weapons and armor flashing. The clash of iron and blood was about to begin. A blazing fighting spirit ignited the blood in Victor’s chest. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

“Go! We will be victorious!”

The combat prowess of vassal soldiers was not to be underestimated. Long-term training and a plentiful diet of meat had pushed their physiques to the limits of humanity, allowing them to carry over fifty kilograms of equipment on a forty-kilometer forced march and still engage in fierce combat. Vassal soldiers received professional military training from a young age, and the ideals of courage and loyalty were instilled in them. They were highly skilled, able to expertly wield a variety of long and short weapons, as well as longbows and heavy crossbows. Their tenacious fighting will meant they wouldn’t waver even when facing monsters. There was once a case where twenty-two soldiers, with the support of a priest, used a ballista to kill an Ogre, and such incidents were countless. Unfortunately for them, they were facing the even more powerful Alchemical militia.

Victor was brimming with confidence, but the tax collectors from the Royal Capital did not favor his chances.

On a low hill five hundred meters away, Ternis and his colleagues were observing. A noble scion gripped the hilt of his rapier and said excitedly, “I really want to go down there and fight myself. This is much more interesting than the legion tournaments!”

“Compared to the thrilling battle, I’m more curious why they’re having a pitched battle,” another noble scion asked a colleague beside him. “Larell, what do you think?”

“Whatever Lord Austin is planning, since he killed House Randell’s soldiers and accused Viscount Randell of kidnapping the family heir right in front of us, they have to fight!” Larell shook his head with a slight smile and continued, “I just don’t understand why Viscount Randell would propose a pitched battle. He has no chance of winning… Ezeke, what do you think?”

Ezeke was the tax collectors’ Guard Captain. He had once served in the army and was also an apprentice knight. The tax collectors all trusted his professional eye.

Ezeke gazed at the soldiers on both sides and said slowly, “Lord Austin’s personal guard is well-trained, with high morale, and their equipment is decent enough. Steel-ring chainmail over a hardened leather jerkin is sufficient to block crossbow shots. Their ten-man squads have one squad leader in command, five spearmen as the main offense, and four sword-and-shield men for close-quarters defense. They have no crossbowmen, with only five military heavy crossbows arranged in the rear. That’s because their opponents have no fear of ordinary crossbows.”

“The equipment of the Randell soldiers widely emits a blue sheen, the characteristic of refined iron. This proves their strength far surpasses that of Austin’s personal guard.”

“Why?” the noble scion with the rapier asked curiously.

“Because of the weight!”

Larell interjected, “Refined iron is much harder than regular iron, and much heavier. Steel-ring chainmail is forged from iron mixed with a small amount of refined iron. While its defensive power is inferior to a refined iron chainmail hauberk, it’s only half the weight. A soldier who can bear the weight of a refined iron hauberk is definitely the elite of the elite.”

“The Centaur Hills lack iron but are rich in refined iron, so it’s no wonder they use refined iron mail. And the York family’s Fanged Legion truly lives up to its name, in no way inferior to the Royal Capital’s Imperial Guard.” Saying this, Larell shook his head.

“Indeed.”

Ezeke nodded. “The vast majority of Randell’s soldiers are equipped with refined iron mail; only a few use steel-ring mail. If I’m not mistaken, those soldiers in refined iron are the elites of the Fanged Legion, and the rest are Viscount Randell’s guards. Moreover, the regular guards appear very nervous, while the elites are fearless. The disparity is very obvious.”

“Look, Randell’s ten-man squads are configured with two archers and eight halberd-and-shield men, and each halberdier also carries three javelins. In the rear of the formation, Viscount Randell is flanked by twenty yew longbowmen. That’s formidable. Even plate armor can’t withstand a concentrated volley of their armor-piercing arrows. To be honest, these soldiers are far more elite than the Royal Capital’s Imperial Guard.”

“Once the battle begins, the longbowmen will first shoot down the enemy’s heavy crossbowmen. And Randell’s longbowmen can be ignored; unless they can hit an enemy in the face, their arrows can’t penetrate double-layered armor. The threat from those javelins is actually much greater. If the Briatte family’s spearmen can’t deflect the javelins in time, death is their only fate. Of course, javelins are relatively slow, so dodging or blocking them is easy.”

“Viscount Randell has no chance of winning. If I were Lord Austin, I would first kill Lord Narsen opposite me, then charge back and forth a few times, and Randell’s soldiers would collapse,” Larell said with a sigh. “I really don’t understand why Victor is sending Lord Narsen to his death.”

It was common knowledge that no matter how elite soldiers were, they could not withstand a knight’s charge. Austin was not only a Great Knight, but he also had two Knights and four apprentice knights under his command, whereas House Randell had no knights at all. This was destined to be an overwhelming victory.

No one was optimistic about Victor’s chances, and no one could understand his thinking.

“I get it!” a noble scion exclaimed, clapping his hands. Once all eyes were on him, he said smugly, “Viscount Randell doesn’t have any knights under his command yet. He wants Lord Narsen and the York family’s elite soldiers to die in battle. Only then can Lady Rose arrange for his family knights.”

“Look at that set of ceremonial silver armor Viscount Randell is wearing. It’s both magnificent and imposing. I’ll have a set made for myself when I get back. Maybe some high-born lady will take a fancy to me too.”

The others had a sudden realization. While the theory was somewhat absurd, it seemed to be the only explanation.

Ezeke said scornfully, “The Centaur Hills are vast and boundless. The York family has fiefs and titles. Why would their knights serve a male pet? Viscount Randell is truly too willful. If he doesn’t show consideration for his vassals, who would dare serve him?”

Ternis remained silent. He felt there was more to Victor than met the eye, but he couldn’t see any way for him to turn the tables. Just then, the war drums sounded. Everyone’s spirits lifted as they fixed their gazes on the field. The fierce battle had begun.

Just as predicted, Randell’s longbowmen initiated the first volley. Arrows tore through the sky, whistling as they fell upon the rear of Austin’s personal guard. The five heavy crossbowmen had just fired their bolts when they were pinned to the ground by long arrows. Not yet dead, they let out blood-curdling screams. The other reserve crossbowmen either raised their shields or used their daggers to cut the arrow shafts, trying to rescue their comrades. However, the second volley of arrows arrived in short order. The armor-piercing, cone-tipped arrows, forged from refined iron and carrying terrifying kinetic energy, shot straight through the Iron-oak shields. Plink, plink, plink! The arrows plunged into the bodies of the reserve crossbowmen one after another. After the third volley of suppressive fire, Austin’s heavy crossbowmen were completely annihilated.

“Longbowmen of this caliber are truly terrifying!” Guard Captain Ezeke muttered to himself before turning his gaze back to the battlefield, where he witnessed a horrifying slaughter.

In a very short time, Randell’s elite soldiers had thrown their refined iron javelins. The deadly spears shrieked through the air, and Austin’s spearmen fell like wheat before a scythe. Although they quickly scattered to evade, trying to use their spears to deflect the sharp javelins, they could not avoid their fate of being pierced through. The soldiers lucky enough to dodge the javelins were then struck through the head by arrows. Randell’s shortbowmen followed the troops, running and shooting, picking off any opponents who tried to fight back.

On the battlefield, javelins and arrows flew everywhere. After three rounds of javelins, only the sword-and-shield men were still standing; everyone else was on the ground, wailing loudly. The battle had just begun, and Austin’s personal guard was already in shambles.

“How can this be? Where are Austin and his knights?” Ezeke shouted, having lost his composure, searching everywhere for a sign of Austin.

In the center of the battlefield, two groups had collided violently. On House Randell’s side, dozens of strong soldiers wielding long, refined-iron sabers surrounded the black-armored Narsen, charging forward. On the Briatte side, with Austin as the tip of the spear, his two knights as the left and right wings, and the apprentice knights in the center, they formed a sharp dagger that cut directly into the enemy’s battle formation.

A sharp glint of sword light flashed. Five burly soldiers, along with their sabers, were cleaved in half. Severed limbs and mangled torsos flew through a shower of blood. On the battlefield, a beautiful, tragic flower of blood suddenly bloomed in fury, then turned into a spreading blood mist. Within the mist, Austin slashed wildly with his sword, a yellow aura swirling around the Mithril executioner’s blade. Every swing he made was enough to cut an enemy in two.

The blood mist grew thicker, obscuring Ezeke’s vision. He wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and muttered to himself, “This is how it should be! How can a Knight possibly lose!?”

Out of jealousy and contempt, Ezeke didn’t want Victor to win, but he hadn’t realized that Austin had manifested his earth element right at the start of the battle.

Manifesting a void element would make a high-level knight indestructible and unstoppable, but their Aura would also be rapidly depleted. Just as a Gold Knight would not easily channel the Elemental Sea, a Silver Knight would only manifest a void element when they needed to unleash a burst of power.

Austin had no choice. He found these elite soldiers to be terrifyingly strong. When five long sabers came crashing down on him, he couldn’t block them with his knightly strength alone. Fortunately, a knight’s mind and body were one. The moment their weapons clashed, Austin decisively erupted with his Aura, cleaving all five men in half with a single horizontal slash. But the enemies behind them showed no signs of retreat, surging forward one after another to quickly fill the gaps. Every single one of them possessed strength comparable to a Knight’s. Austin had no choice but to maintain his Elemental Manifestation, cutting down his opponents one by one as the situation on the battlefield grew dire.

Austin had no time to ponder why there were so many of these Ferocious Warriors who didn’t fear death. His personal guard had already lost nearly half its number, and the massive force field created by the void earth element not only crushed the enemy’s blood into a mist but also hindered his own knights’ movements.

“You go! Aid the soldiers! I’ll come find you after I’ve killed them all!”

Austin’s greatsword swung in a crescent arc, cutting down two soldiers to his left and tearing an opening for the knights under his command. The two knights didn’t hesitate, immediately leading the apprentice knights out of the fray. Narsen sneered coldly and met the knights’ breakout attempt, leading five Crouching Ox Militiamen to intercept them.

The battle instantly split into two parts. Austin was besieged by more than twenty soldiers, while Narsen became entangled with the Briatte family’s knights.

The tax collectors, five hundred meters away, couldn’t see clearly through the blood-filled mist on the battlefield. They could only see large fountains of blood spraying out from time to time.

The noble scion with the rapier said with schadenfreude, “What’s the use of the Fanged Legion’s soldiers being so fierce? They’ll be slaughtered by Austin sooner or later. Lord Narsen must be dead by now, and Austin’s sword-and-shield men are forming a defensive line. The battle will be over soon. Hehe, I really don’t know how Viscount Randell is going to face Lady Rose.”

“Those soldiers really are brave. They haven’t broken even now. Did they use some kind of secret potion?” Larell asked from the side.

“That must be it. Viscount Randell is truly vicious,” Ezeke said with a nod.

“Look! Is that a Great Knight’s Elemental Manifestation?! The power is astonishing! It seems Lord Austin doesn’t plan to drag this out any longer,” a noble scion shouted excitedly.

A ring of yellow aura burst from the center of the blood mist. Even from a great distance, the crowd could feel the surging power. The blood mist turned into a rain of blood, shooting out in all directions, and the soldiers besieging Austin were thrown away like broken sacks. The mist dissipated, revealing Austin, spotless from head to toe, standing in the center of the battlefield with his greatsword in hand.

“That’s not right…”

Ezeke whispered. He saw several of Randell’s soldiers stagger to their feet and walk past the unmoving Austin, heading towards the other battle.

Under the puzzled gazes of the crowd, Austin stood there, showing no reaction. Then, he fell backward onto the ground, motionless, as if he were dead.

“What’s going on?”

“Look at Victor!”

A noble scion pointed to the rear of the battlefield. Victor was elegantly accepting a heavy crossbow. A deep blue stream of light shot out, streaking across three hundred meters, aimed directly at a knight in the heat of battle. The next instant, that knight collapsed to the ground as if struck by lightning.

The remaining knight let out a heaven-shaking roar and swung his sword horizontally at Narsen. Narsen roared back, bringing his Adamantine battleaxe straight down on his opponent’s head. Sparks flew. Narsen was sent flying by the heavy sword’s impact, but his Adamantine battleaxe was now deeply embedded in the knight’s head. The soldiers swarmed forward, cutting down the remaining apprentice knights.

The tax collectors paid this no mind. Their eyes were only on the blue brilliance that had hung suspended in the void. As the blue light scattered and dissipated, a visible ripple appeared in the air.

“A wind-element Great Knight…” Larell whispered in disbelief.

Ternis took a step forward, staring intently at the silver-armored Victor.

“No! Victor is a Wind Walk Archer! Just like Sword Saint Draven…”

Chapter 203: Foresight

Nights in the Season of Water were always especially cold, but the reception room in Victor’s manor was warm and pleasant.

Judy kept her hands folded in her lap, striving to keep her slender, delicate waist straight. This posture was not only elegant and attentive, but also perfectly displayed the beautiful curves of her body. Her features were as pure as a painting, her skin as white and fine as milk. She was not tall, but her legs were long and straight. Her slender waist, which looked as though it could be encircled with a single grasp, stretched her low-cut, cinched-waist dress taut. Paired with her touchingly beautiful disposition and a noble, solemn expression, she was the very picture of allure.

Judy had no intention of seducing Victor. Her attire and demeanor were perfectly in line with the etiquette of a noble lady. It was simply that the propagation of the bloodline was a noble’s first priority, so the education, etiquette, and social life of noblewomen naturally leaned towards attracting the opposite sex.

As a noble lady, Judy was quite confident in herself. She had a gentle temperament, was young and beautiful, had received an excellent noble education, and her every move was impeccable. At the age of sixteen, she had even awakened her knight’s bloodline, become an apprentice knight, and married Viscount Briart, rising to the station of a noble lady of the manor. And yet, only today did Judy realize how laughable her pride and confidence truly were.

Seated in the host’s chair in the reception room was an absolutely beautiful woman with a languid air. Her movements were casual, her bearing relaxed, and her brilliant golden hair was carelessly draped over her shoulders. These postures, which defied noble etiquette, seemed only elegant and stately on her, as if she were the very model of perfection and everything else in the room was merely her foil. Before her, Judy felt as insignificant as a handmaiden, yet she also felt this was only natural. Because that was Sylvia.

Sylvia was a major figure of considerable importance in the human kingdoms, but her fame was confined to the circles of knights and lords. In truth, knights held themselves high above all others, looking down on the masses, and were unwilling to discuss knightly topics with ordinary nobles. Information about Pinnacle Knights was an even more closely guarded secret. Meanwhile, ordinary nobles viewed the world of knights as the most exclusive echelon of high society, and they would try every trick in the book to work their way in. If Judy had not awakened her knight’s bloodline, Viscount Briart would not have even married her. And even as the lady of the manor, her status was worlds apart from Sylvia’s.

This was a gap born from power.

Sylvia paid no mind to Judy’s thoughts. She rolled up the “secret letter” and her vermilion lips parted lightly. “Judy, what of the maid who incited you?”

“Fili… She… she led some men to draw Austin away. I heard she killed herself before she could be captured,” Judy said, her expression dimming.

“Hmph! Such loyalty!” Sylvia sneered, then instructed, “Elina, Alice, please escort Lady Judy to her room to rest.”

Judy rose to her feet, lifting the hem of her skirt to curtsy to Sylvia and Victor respectively before gracefully departing with the twin sisters. Soon, only Victor and Sylvia remained in the reception room.

“Quite a beauty! Did you really kill a Great Knight for her?” Sylvia asked faintly.

Victor silently lamented his misfortune. He had never expected the consequences of killing Austin to be so severe.

After the battle, Victor had sent a message to Black Fortress via Ash Falcon. In response, the York family had sent a knight who rode day and night, arriving at Rivermouth Village the very next day. He brought a verbal message from Sylvia: she would personally host the Royal Capital’s tax collector in the Randell Fief.

Only then did Victor realize how much trouble he was in. Given Sylvia’s status, the tax collector from the Royal Capital wasn’t even qualified to meet her. Sylvia’s so-called hosting of a banquet was a pretext to detain the tax collector, backing Victor up and cleaning up his mess.

Ten days later, Sylvia’s carriage arrived at Victor’s manor. At the banquet, she acted extremely intimate with Victor. As soon as the banquet concluded, Sylvia invited the tax collectors to a joint meeting with Lady Judy to inquire about the reasons for and the course of her and her son’s flight. After clarifying the origins of the matter, Sylvia and the tax collectors reached a consensus: Austin had attempted to murder the family heir, invaded the Randell Fief, and died in the ensuing pitched battle. The tax collectors departed the Randell Fief with this conclusion, but Victor understood that the real trouble had yet to begin.

Victor knew Sylvia was furious. To unilaterally start a war without communication, forcing both parties to bear the consequences, was a despicable act. Had their roles been reversed, Victor would have been furious as well, but he simply hadn’t considered things that far at the time.

Faced with Sylvia’s questioning, Victor explained weakly, “Austin killed my soldiers and slandered me, claiming I coveted Lady Judy’s beauty and had kidnapped the Briatte family heir. For the sake of my honor, I had no choice but to fight him.”

“Then Austin should have been the one to challenge you to a pitched battle, not the other way around. Now, not only did you initiate the challenge, but you also killed Austin. His accusations have become true, even if they were false. Before long, all the nobles in Gambis will know that Viscount Randell killed the Briatte family’s Great Knight for Lady Judy!” Sylvia raised a slender eyebrow and said mockingly.

Seeing Victor at a loss for words, Sylvia sighed and said, “Do you know what a Great Knight signifies?”

“Among ten nobles, you might not find a single apprentice knight. Out of ten apprentice knights, at most three become knights. Among ten knights, on average, only two can become Silver Knights. Once a knight achieves the Silver-rank, the void element will reshape their body and purify their bloodline. This allows Great Knights to commonly live past one hundred and twenty years old, and their descendants have a high chance of becoming knights. Every Silver Knight is a precious asset to the kingdom. Even the Sassans rarely kill Great Knights from the three kingdoms, and we do the same.”

“Killing a Great Knight from the same faction in a pitched battle hasn’t happened in several hundred years! If I hadn’t stepped in, you would have had to go to the Royal Capital and explain yourself to the Senate. The Church would have taken an interest in this matter as well. Let’s not even mention that Austin hadn’t actually murdered the family heir yet. Even if the evidence against him was irrefutable, his punishment would have been nothing more than exile to the Eastern Alliance to establish a pioneer fief. Guess who the Church wants to exile now?”

Victor’s face grew increasingly grim. Sylvia shot him a sidelong glance and said faintly, “Speak. Why did you kill Austin? Besides land, I see no other value in Bryat’s fief. And land is the one thing we don’t lack.”

Victor composed himself and said, “For the plan of funding the canals with the sale of bricks. Currently, the sales of green bricks are not ideal. I need a new breakthrough, and the Briatte family is a good market.”

“Ha! You took Austin’s life just to sell a few bricks? Couldn’t he have cooperated with you?” Sylvia fumed for a moment before explaining, “The situation with the Briatte family is very complex. They were originally a branch of House Sorim. House Sorim carved out that long, narrow fief for them to serve as a shield and buffer for the southern lords, targeted against the powers of the central-southern lords.”

“Bryat’s fief became a playing field for the games of these two major powers. The fief itself has few resources, and the family head is only a Viscount, able to grant at most the rank of Baron, so naturally, they couldn’t recruit any knights. Their fief is long and narrow with no strategic depth; any of the surrounding lords could have bandits penetrate deep into their heartland. The Briatte family dared not offend anyone and had always played the role of a punching bag. Their neighbors would drive their excess population into Bryat’s fief at a moment’s notice.”

“However, because Bryat’s fief divides the two major powers, its geographical location is extremely sensitive. Any action by an external power against the Briatte family would be met with backlash from both sides. Now, House Sorim has fallen into decline, and the southern lords are a scattered mess. The royal family is meddling in the Briatte family’s affairs precisely to consolidate the power of the southern lords and prevent the Wellington family from expanding their influence.” At this, Sylvia shot Victor a resentful glare.

“We need to mend our relationship with the royal family right now. Rashly intervening in the Briatte family’s affairs will touch a nerve with everyone, and this doesn’t align with my strategic objectives. Victor, you’ve put me in a very passive position!”

In Sylvia’s eyes, Bryat’s fief was a trifle, not worth creating friction with the royal family over. As for the justice and righteousness of a widow and an orphan, what were those? Conversely, Austin inheriting the title was more in line with the Briatte family’s interests. Ever since he had allied with Williams, he’d begun to reduce the excess population, leaving the neighboring lords fuming but silent. In Victor’s eyes, however, the value of Bryat’s fief was immeasurable.

“Come, let me show you something.”

Victor led Sylvia to a spacious room. Attendants lit dozens of tallow candles, and the room instantly became as bright as day. What entered Sylvia’s vision was a table twenty meters long and six meters wide. Upon it was a model made of sand and earth, with low hills, fields, cities, and lakes. There were even tiny trees made from small pieces of wood, densely dotted together, letting one know at a glance that it was a forest.

“Is this the Centaur Hills?”

Sylvia could hardly believe her eyes, but the city at the center of the model was a perfect replica of Black Fortress Town, right down to an exquisitely lifelike recreation of the imposing Black Fortress itself.

“Yes!”

Victor snapped his fingers and pulled a nearby rope. Several sets of kettles suspended above the platform tilted, pouring out thin streams of water. The water landed on the platform and flowed slowly along the grooves in the model, gradually passing the outskirts of the Black Fortress Town model until it reached the southernmost end of the entire model. There, it formed a small lake in a depression—the model of Flatlake Village—before finally flowing into a trough beneath the platform. Victor signaled an attendant to block the openings at both ends of the model, and only when the “Black River” stopped flowing did he release the rope.

Sylvia looked at the moat beside the “Black Fortress,” took a deep breath, and asked, “How did you do this?”

“Didn’t you ask me to select sites for the stream reservoirs? I ran all over the Centaur Hills and just happened to make this sand table on the side. Isn’t it amazing?” Victor said, brimming with pride.

For Victor, who possessed the X-3, surveying terrain was a piece of cake. With “fishman slime cement,” creating a sand table was also a very simple matter. However, to see the mountains and rivers, lakes, hills, and copses laid out directly before her still had a great impact on Sylvia. Gold Knights could not fly, and even if they could, they wouldn’t be able to see the entirety of the Centaur Hills. Now, she was seeing it with her own eyes.

“A sand table?”

Sylvia shook her head, then nodded, and said with sincere admiration, “Truly amazing!”

“This sand table isn’t perfectly accurate. I didn’t survey the mountains to the west, so I just made some random peaks. I also haven’t been to Soren’s and the others’ fiefs, so that area is blank, but the general topography of high in the west and low in the east is correct,” Victor said as he took out many small wooden models from a box beside him.

“Now, it’s time to witness a miracle!”

As another rope was pulled, water was injected into the southern end of the model and flowed north. Starting from the first reservoir, miniature reservoirs were filled one by one. Each reservoir had two channels, one vertical and one horizontal. The vertical ones connected each reservoir, while the horizontal ones flowed into the “Black River.” Between the horizontal channels were even smaller vertical channels connecting them. With a flourish, Victor placed the models in his hand one after another next to the miniature reservoirs. They were villages. In the end, on the sand table of the Centaur Hills, over two hundred reservoirs and villages were scattered like stars in a night sky, crisscrossed by channels. The wasteland turned into fertile fields, and the amount of arable land expanded fivefold!

Hiss!

Sylvia drew a sharp breath. She had long known that once the man-made channels were completed, they would add eighty million mu of arable land, but that had just been a number in her mind. When that number was presented in such a visual way, the shock was unparalleled.

Every time a Gold Knight communed with the Elemental Sea, they would ask themselves: the world is so vast, the individual so small. What is the meaning of my existence? What is my pursuit? What mark do I want to leave on this world? Only by finding the answers and holding them as a conviction could one reach the pinnacle.

If there was anything that could bring Sylvia joy and satisfaction, it was seeing her subjects live and work in peace and contentment, and watching her family grow stronger day by day under her leadership. Only this gave her the motivation to advance. Even if she returned to the Elemental Sea, her family could endure for generations, and a trace of her would remain among them. And that trace was right before her eyes!

At this moment, the top female Gold Knight in the human world looked as if she were drunk. Her cheeks were flushed crimson, her starry eyes were hazy, and her coquettish charm was captivating. Victor, however, didn’t notice the change in Sylvia. He stared at the three large gaps on the western side of the model and said in a low voice, “Now, let’s talk about the grand corps plan.”

“Whether it’s to cull their numbers or to plunder for food, it’s a consensus that the Ant-men will invade the Centaur Hills again. Our questions are: When will they come? How many will there be? And what if they circle around from the north?”

“Assuming the Ant-men are spreading out in all directions, their numbers should be no less than four hundred thousand, since we annihilated one hundred thousand in the Centaur Hills.”

Sylvia came back to her senses, her expression also turning serious.

Victor said, “Insects have relatively short lifespans. Considering the Ant-men’s size, their growth cycle should be around ten years. If we account for the possibility of larvae in the swarm, they would need seven to eight years to gather for a larger-scale invasion. Back then, it took the Church’s Legendary Knight over a year to escape from the non-human empire and return to the human kingdoms. Therefore, the second Ant-man tide will erupt in ten years.”

“This is a calculation Master Edwin and I made. It might not be accurate.”

In truth, this calculation was made by the King based on the characteristics of alchemical creatures, so it was highly credible. Victor had merely guided Edwin to the same conclusion.

Victor looked up at Sylvia, who gave him an encouraging glance. Victor continued, “The Ant-man chiefs possess intelligence. When the swarm cannot breach those three fortresses, they will lead the ordinary Ant-men to turn back. In that light, the possibility of the swarm taking a detour is very high. Therefore, we cannot afford to be complacent. We must prepare for the worst!”

An attack by the Ant-man tide on the Centaur Hills was almost a certainty. Victor was the Ant-men’s natural enemy; they would never rest until he was eliminated. Victor couldn’t explain the details, so he could only use this method to warn Sylvia.

“Darling, please continue!” Sylvia nodded.

“The Ant-man tide won’t be routed. The role of knights is limited, and we don’t have the ability to face them in field battles. Therefore, we need more castles, more ordinary soldiers. We’ll use defensive battles at the castles to wear down the Ant-man tide’s numbers, and use the knight orders to tie up their movements. When the Ant-men no longer have numerical superiority, we will have won!”

Victor used a thin wooden rod to point at several stream reservoirs on the edge of the sand table.

“Actually, we don’t need to build castles. Walled towns with forty-meter-high walls will suffice. Each town must be able to hold out for three years. To achieve this, besides soldiers, we need grain and a water source. The subjects in the towns will be the soldiers, the agropastoral system can guarantee an ample food supply, and these stream reservoirs can provide drinking water.”

“When the Ant-man tide concentrates its attack on one town, the knights garrisoned in other towns will lead elite cavalry to sally out and divert the Ant-man tide to other strongholds. The towns will form layers of defense, supporting one another. Perhaps we can annihilate the Ant-man tide in the field in less than three years.”

Victor put away the wooden rod. “This is the grand corps combat I envision.”

Sylvia’s eyes lit up, and she smiled. “I see. No wonder you designed the stream reservoirs and the agropastoral system.”

Victor nodded. “To deal with the Ant-man tide, we just need more people. Not every stream reservoir needs a town built—we can’t afford that—but each town must be able to accommodate at least four thousand people. Food and water are crucial. Large-scale military operations are a supreme test of logistics, and the agropastoral system and stream reservoirs can solve these problems.”

“You want to complete the man-made channel project within ten years by funding the canals with the sale of bricks, but I’m afraid that’s difficult to achieve. The stream reservoirs we have should be enough. Darling, why are you in such a hurry?” Sylvia asked, frowning.

Victor shook his head and said, “Funding the canals with bricks is just one aspect. We’re facing a huge problem right now: a lack of people!”

“People?!”

A flash of insight sparked in Sylvia’s mind, but before she could grasp it, Victor continued, “Regardless of whether the Ant-man tide comes, we need people to build the fortresses, people to farm the land, and people to dig the stream reservoirs. The one hundred twenty thousand people in the Centaur Hills are far from enough, and the number of people we can accommodate is far more than one hundred twenty thousand. By my estimations, in five years, the food produced in the Centaur Hills can support three hundred thousand people. But have you ever thought about what kind of changes the mouldboard plow and stream reservoirs will bring to Gambis?”

Sylvia murmured, “I understand. The other lords will compete with us for population!”

“Correct! The mouldboard plow and stream reservoirs are too easy to replicate. The priests have enormous influence over the farmers, so they can easily obtain both technologies, and the Church would certainly be happy to spread them. Any lord with the means will of course try to build stream reservoirs and expand their farmland, which means they will also need people.”

Victor said with a cold smile, “When I was in the Royal Capital, I heard that the population of Gambis had reached nine hundred thousand, and that doesn’t even include the refugees flowing in from Dodor. Sophia’s advisors roughly calculated the number of refugees and concluded that it exceeds five hundred thousand! It’s only because Sophia’s caravans are importing grain from the Sasan Empire that these people are being fed, which is most likely why the Queen is trying to control the merchant association. In any case, the excess population has become a burden for the lords of Gambis. The moment the lords realize these people are no longer a burden, it will be difficult for us to attract any more.”

“Bryat’s fief is long and narrow, with numerous neighbors, and it connects the central-southern and southern major lord factions like a corridor. This is its unique advantage. By controlling Bryat’s fief, not only can we sell green bricks to other lords, but we can also bring in the excess population before they realize what’s happening. Austin was backed by the royal family and was a Great Knight, making him far more difficult to deal with than Lady Judy. Cooperating with him would have been tantamount to revealing our intentions to the royal family. So, I killed him.”

“A good kill!”

Sylvia let out a soft breath. All of Victor’s concepts shattered the conventional thinking of lords. She had never imagined that the refugees, once a burden, would become a hot commodity. Once she accepted this fact, she immediately realized that the new agropastoral system would change the strategic landscape of the human kingdoms. Gambis would no longer need to expand its territory, removing the greatest point of conflict. Dodor would no longer have to worry about Gambis siding with the Sasan Empire. The Sassans’ schemes would be completely thwarted. What kind of apoplectic rage would the mastermind who once played everyone like a fiddle feel upon learning of this change?

At this thought, Sylvia felt the pent-up frustration in her chest dissipate significantly, and a knowing smile touched her lips. Then she began to calculate what benefits she could gain from this and how she should lay out her own scheme.

“Darling, how long do you think it will take for the other lords to realize?” Sylvia asked Victor in a soft voice.

Victor gave a cold smile and said, “The mouldboard plow and stream reservoirs seem simple, but they’re not simple at all. Without our guidance, they will have to fumble around for at least three years. I can even foresee that their fertile lands will become barren, and floods will inundate their fields.”

“Excellent!” Sylvia laughed happily and turned to the attendants. “All of you, leave!”

Once the attendants had left the room, Sylvia swayed her lithe waist, wrapped her arm around Victor’s, and her breath was like orchids as she spoke into his ear, “I’m very impressed with your plan. What kind of reward are you prepared to ask for? And for acting on your own behind my back, what kind of punishment are you prepared to accept?”

Victor said with a pained expression, “Can we let my merits and demerits cancel each other out?”

Sylvia laughed, flower branches shaking. She shot Victor a glance with her watery, bewitching eyes and uttered a single word from her gorgeous red lips.

“Dream on!”

Chapter 204: Aftermath

The next day at noon, Sylvia sat alone in Victor’s study. The night of pleasure had left her deeply satisfied, and now she needed to contemplate a few things.

Victor’s summons had given her a start. Her annoyance wasn’t with the trouble Victor had caused, but with Victor himself.

To Sylvia, Victor killing a Great Knight in a pitched battle was a hassle, but only a hassle. It was Victor’s increasingly bold actions that were giving her a headache.

Back then, Sophia had realized that keeping Victor in the Royal Capital was a danger to herself; the Queen could replace her with Victor at any moment. Thus, Sophia had sent Victor to the Centaur Hills. Sylvia hadn’t actually minded the “gift” from Sophia; she was more interested in securing Sophia’s own allegiance. After sampling the “gift,” Sylvia hadn’t kept Victor, but had instead sent him to the most desolate southern territory.

Sylvia had never expected that a minor noble with no formal education as a lord would bring her so many surprises. To preserve Victor’s “vitality,” Sylvia had given him the greatest possible freedom and the most relaxed environment. Now, Victor was showing faint signs of spinning out of control, something Sylvia could not accept.

Victor was a matter she was fiercely protective of, and in the depths of her heart, she harbored another kind of expectation.

Propagating the bloodline and building a castle were a noble family’s highest priorities. A castle could help a family weather a crisis, while a knight’s bloodline brought glory. As a fire-element Gold Knight, Sylvia possessed an incredibly powerful bloodline, yet she could not pass it on.

Historically, only Sword Saint Draven had ever sired children with a fire-element Gold Knight. Sylvia suspected Victor’s bloodline was the same as Draven’s. She had secretly sent people to investigate Victor’s genealogy, only to find that he was not a direct descendant of Draven, not even a cadet branch. Just as Sylvia was feeling dejected and lost, Victor manifested the void wind element within a year. Sword Saint Draven had also manifested the wind element in a very short time, eventually gaining the features of golden hair and golden eyes.

Hope was rekindled in Sylvia’s heart, but she didn’t know the reason for Victor’s transformation, nor how it would develop. It was as though she knew this tree could potentially bear sweet fruit but had no idea how to tend to it. Caught in a state of apprehension, Sylvia decided to maintain the status quo and let Victor grow freely. She watched carefully from the sidelines, offering no opinions and providing no information, lest she inadvertently mislead him.

But then, Victor had manifested the wind element in full view of everyone and openly shot Austin dead. Sylvia could no longer sit still. Manifesting the wind element was a sign that Victor’s ancient bloodline was purifying. Regardless of whether he was Draven’s blood-kin, his descendants were now highly likely to become Knights. Sylvia would not underestimate the fervent desire of the Nobles for ancient bloodlines. She began to worry that someone might try to steal him away from her; the Sooth royal family, at the very least, would certainly dare to do so.

Furthermore, Victor had initiated a pitched battle without consulting the York family and had displayed combat strength comparable to a wind-element Great Knight. From this, the Gambis Royal Family could perceive the Randell Fief’s independence and harbor improper ambitions. Other families would also be tempted to make a move. If they were to band together, they had far too many ways to make Victor switch his allegiance.

Sylvia had rushed to the Randell Fief at the first opportunity and hosted a banquet for insignificant minor nobles, all to send a message to the outside world: she had instigated Victor’s actions, and the relationship between the York family and Victor was unassailable.

External troubles were ultimately just troubles. But Victor still needed to be disciplined!

At this thought, Sylvia flicked the small bell on the desk. A moment later, two slender and beautiful female apprentice knights entered.

“My Lady, what are your orders?”

“Elina, please fetch Viscount Randell,” Sylvia instructed.

Elina stammered, “My Lady, Viscount Randell… he’s not awake yet.”

Sylvia smiled faintly. “Then wake him up.”

A short while later, Victor arrived in his own study. The moment he saw a rejuvenated Sylvia looking at him with a wide grin, his steps immediately became unsteady, and he put on a look of utter exhaustion.

Victor cultivated the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form, and his physical strength and stamina had long reached the limits of a mortal. A night of passionate entanglement would not have left him unable to get up. It was just that he no longer possessed the ambition to conquer Sylvia; when it was time to play dead, one had to play dead.

Sylvia was amused but didn’t expose his pretense. She deliberately mocked, “Darling, your stamina is truly pathetic.”

Victor remained silent with a wry expression, complaining internally.

“I’m being serious. This concerns your life!”

Meeting Victor’s look of utter horror, Sylvia rolled her eyes at him and said, “What are you thinking? It’s not like I’m going to eat you.”

“You exposed your trump card in public. That was far too reckless. Regardless of whether you are a Knight, being able to manifest the wind element makes you a Silver-rank archer. You have entered the world of Knights, so you must also bear the corresponding risks. If the kingdom issues a Call to Arms, you must personally lead your family’s army into battle. On the battlefield, Silver-rank archers are always the first to be surrounded and killed, because they are too dangerous. Victor, can’t you just be a quiet little lord?” Sylvia said resentfully, pinching Victor’s cheek.

Victor thought for a moment and replied with complete confidence, “They can’t catch me.”

“Can’t catch you?” Sylvia sat back down on the sofa and asked languidly, “Austin hadn’t been in the Silver realm for long. What do you think of his combat strength?”

During the pitched battle, Victor had assigned forty Crouching Ox Militiamen to deal with Austin and his knights; only nine had survived. Austin alone had cut down twenty-three Crouching Ox Militiamen, eleven of whom had been killed by the blast of void earth element he had unleashed in his final moments. It was Austin’s unstoppable display that had compelled Victor to use his strongest technique instead of choosing a more conventional method of attack.

Victor had shot Austin dead on the spot, but he had also come to realize that the Alchemical militia was no match for high-rank Knights. Only a warrior of an equal rank could threaten a high-rank Knight.

“He was indeed very strong,” Victor said, his expression grave.

“You are also very strong,” Sylvia nodded, then added, “But you are also very weak! If Austin had known you were a Silver-rank archer and had been holding an Adamantine shield, you would never have had the chance to kill him. You would have had no choice but to flee.”

“Don’t be unconvinced! Let me ask you, how many arrows can you shoot by manifesting the wind element?”

Victor didn’t hide anything. “Ten arrows!” he said directly.

“And after that? Can you still activate Wind Walk?” Sylvia pressed coldly. “Without Wind Walk, can you escape the pursuit of a Great Knight?” Noticing Victor’s horrified expression, Sylvia sighed and continued, “The attacks of a wind-element Great Knight are indeed sharp, but they never engage in direct combat. Insufficient vigor and a fragile body are the weaknesses of wind-element knights. After they manifest the wind element to shoot ten arrows, they can still run for four hourglasses (two hours), whereas an earth Knight can pursue for ten hourglasses, and a water-element Knight’s vigor is even more abundant. To surround and kill a wind-element Great Knight, they will dispatch at least two Great Knights. Victor, faced with an encirclement of Great Knights, how long could you last?”

Cold sweat beaded on Victor’s forehead. Only then did Sylvia offer her earnest advice, “Never underestimate a Great Knight just because you have the Wind Walk talent. That way of thinking is very dangerous. Now everyone knows you are a Silver-rank archer, so they will naturally be on their guard. To be honest, you do not yet have the ability to fight a Great Knight head-on. Even your chances of a successful escape are very slim!”

Victor’s face turned pale. He could only maintain Wind Walk for forty minutes—or just eight minutes if he used Apocalypse—and he needed five hours of rest to recover to his peak state. Coupled with his fragile body, he truly lacked the ability to contend with a Great Knight.

Victor took a deep breath and asked in a strained voice, “Is there any way to increase my vigor?”

Sylvia hesitated for a moment before saying, “Sword Saint Draven also started as a Wind Walk Archer. Later, for some unknown reason, his vigor became more and more abundant. He once fought continuously for two whole days, single-handedly annihilating a band of centaur bandits. That was the battle that made his name.”

“Spire Scholars believe that Draven activated another talent, which is what allowed him to break through the limitations of a Wind Walk Archer. It certainly wasn’t the Savage state, because that increases physical strength, not vigor. Many families have collected Draven’s combat technique scrolls in an attempt to uncover the secret, but nobles with the Moon Elf bloodline are already rare, and those who awaken the Wind Walk talent are even rarer. In the end, they found nothing. Draven’s scrolls were scattered.”

Victor’s eyes lit up, and he asked eagerly, “If I collect all the scrolls, can I increase my vigor too?”

“One can only say it’s a possibility,” Sylvia said with a slight nod. “You already have one scroll. You don’t need to worry about the others; I’ll keep an eye out for them for you. Let’s talk about handling the aftermath now.”

“Mmm, I’m listening,” Victor said, happily sitting down beside Sylvia.

“What did you do with the Briatte family’s personal guard?” Sylvia asked, leaning languidly against the sofa.

Victor said, “Sixty-two of Austin’s personal guard were killed in battle, seventy-seven were seriously wounded, and ninety-five surrendered and were captured. All of Austin’s knights were also killed. The wounded received treatment from Father Miller and all survived. I’ve detained them with the prisoners in a camp. However, I don’t plan to hand them over to Lady Judy. They will serve hard labor in the Randell Fief as invaders, but I will permit their families to move to the Randell Fief.”

With her eyes closed, Sylvia said softly, “That’s the right move. This battle has severely weakened the Briatte family. This way, Judy will have to rely on the support of external powers to stabilize the situation in her fief. I must remind you, you cannot let Judy and her son go just yet. This matter is not simple. That letter Judy produced was a fake. The maid was the key figure, but unfortunately, she’s already dead.”

“How do you know the letter was a fake? Was the handwriting wrong?” Victor asked, puzzled.

Sylvia shook her head and replied, “Handwriting can be forged. The problem was the letter’s content. Little Edward’s right of succession comes after Williams’s. Catherine would never support Judy and her son on this issue. What’s strange is, why did Austin believe the letter was real? This matter must be investigated first. I suspect this is a conspiracy aimed at you!”

Victor frowned and asked in a low voice, “Why do you say that?”

“Since the letter is fake, it must be a conspiracy. And that maid just so happened to lure Judy to the Randell Fief. Doesn’t that prove my point?” Sylvia smiled, then said to Victor, “Darling, be patient. The life of a lord is always accompanied by schemes and plots. While uncovering the truth is important, most of the time, the truth cannot be found. Sometimes, you’re even drawn into a bigger trap. When faced with such a situation, you must learn how to avert the risks and how to benefit from the conspiracy. You cannot let the schemers lead you by the nose.”

Victor let out a breath and said sincerely, “Darling, you’re absolutely right!”

“Until I reach a consensus with the Royal Family, the Wellington family, and House Sorim, Judy must remain in the Randell Fief—as your mistress.”

Victor nodded in agreement. No matter what deals and compromises were being made behind the scenes, a scandal would minimize the incident’s impact and give both sides room to maneuver, preventing a complete breakdown of relations. Since Victor wanted to control Bryat’s fief from the shadows, he had to accept the blame whether he liked it or not.

“First, tell me your plan. That will help me negotiate with the other powers.”

Victor pondered for a moment before speaking. “I don’t plan to exploit the Briatte family. I want to use Bryat’s fief to sell raw sugar and green bricks to the surrounding lords, and to purchase grain and ordinary supplies. It will be a fair trade. The Briatte family can collect taxes, and the neighboring lords must not dispatch bandits to plague Bryat’s fief. In return, Lady Judy will act on our behalf to absorb refugees from other families.”

“That’s simple enough.” Sylvia nodded, then looked at Victor with suspicion. “With such lenient terms, you haven’t really fallen for Judy, have you?”

“Of course not. How could she possibly compare to you?” Victor declared assertively. “My point is, only through win-win cooperation can we maximize our mutual benefits!”

“‘Win-win cooperation’…” Sylvia mulled over the phrase for a moment, her eyes lighting up with approval. “A very accurate and insightful description.” However, her tone shifted. “But, I want twenty percent of the raw sugar trade. I’ll also take twenty percent of any supplies you purchase, and I get first pick of the people. I won’t meddle with Snow Sugar, coffee, or green bricks. How about it? No problem, right?”

“No problem. That’s only right,” Victor agreed instantly.

“I heard you lost quite a few soldiers as well, and Narsen was seriously injured?” Sylvia asked suddenly.

“Yes. Thirty-six were killed and twelve were injured. Narsen was struck by a Knight’s sword and nearly died,” Victor said, his face a mask of grief.

“I have a question. My Vassals suffered heavy casualties in the Ant-man plague, and now you have as well. Without the management and control of vassals, how can you ensure the vast number of refugees remain peacefully in the Centaur Hills? You must know, the Centaur Hills is a true Pioneer Fief now. Most refugees are terrified of the Ant-man. If they run away, wouldn’t we have spent years raising them for nothing? It took me a great deal of effort to save up two hundred thousand Gold Sol!”

Sylvia’s gaze bored into Victor, her expression making it clear: you’d better not lose my investment.

Victor smiled. “You’re unwilling to implement the private plot system, so let’s carry out the policy of Distributing pigs to households. I guarantee they won’t want to leave. In addition, the subjects’ conditions must improve: seventy mu of rented land, a thirty percent share of the harvest, and the purchase price of wheat straw can be lowered, since it’s now only used as fuel.”

“Alright.”

Sylvia sat up straight and flicked a finger on the bell. The sisters, Elina and Alice, entered with flushed cheeks, carrying a wooden box.

“What’s this?” Victor asked curiously.

“Elina and Alice’s marriage certificates, four copies of each. From this day forward, they are your legal partners and will live in your manor. Now, sign them!”

Victor saw the two enchanting and beautiful female apprentice knights staring at him, their gazes a mixture of shyness and anticipation. He then looked at Sylvia’s unyielding expression, finally picked up the quill, and signed his name on the marriage certificates.

Chapter 205: The Council’s Plan

Gasi Town was nestled in the mountains of the southern Kingdom of Naville, a territory belonging to the Garrott family. Baron Garrott had built this small mining town after discovering a vein of element crystals nearby.

Like other mining towns, Gasi Town was surrounded by mountain forests and lacked a stable water source. It was destined to be abandoned once the element crystals were depleted. However, it had fallen into ruin long before the nearby crystal mine was exhausted.

A few years ago, a pair of savage Nightblade Panthers had migrated to the area. They viewed the miners as prey, hunting and killing more than thirty of them over time. The local lord organized two extermination campaigns, but both failed. In the end, he had no choice but to abandon the crystal mine, and Gasi Town became a ghost town.

Though called a town, Gasi Town was smaller than most villages. Only the dilapidated stone wall around it attested to its former status. A north wind blew, and dark clouds obscured the moon, plunging the area within the walls into darkness. Dilapidated wooden huts shivered in the cold wind, creaking and groaning, adding a touch of horror to the gloomy, abandoned town.

Suddenly, a faint flicker of firelight appeared in the largest building at the town’s center. The dim yellow glow wavered in the night wind, like a lighthouse guiding the lost.

A large owl glided through the dark night sky, flapped its wings, and landed on a decaying windowsill. It glanced inside the house and, without hesitation, hopped in.

Inside, three men dressed as farmers were warming themselves by a hearth. When the owl burst in, wrapped in a gust of cold wind, they hastily grabbed the axes beside them. When they saw the intruder clearly, two of the middle-aged men visibly relaxed. Only the youngest farmer still clutched his axe nervously, looking as if he might swing it at any moment.

The half-man-tall owl fluffed its feathers, spread its wings, and let out a sharp, warning cry. Its shadow covered the entire wall behind it, a truly terrifying sight.

“Gohm! Control your pets!”

An exasperated voice came from the owl’s beak. The young farmer was so frightened he fell to the ground. The gray-haired middle-aged farmer next to him wore a malicious grin and turned to a corner of the room. “Darlings, you can’t eat this stupid bird. Go patrol outside, and don’t let any strangers near.”

From the shadows, two enormous Nightblade Panthers shook their black coats, retracted their sharp claws, and affectionately rubbed their heads against the middle-aged farmer before padding out of the house, elegant and silent.

“Gohm! One of these days, I’m going to skin those two stupid cats!” the owl said viciously, folding its wings.

“Fine by me. Just find me a few more dire animals, and I’ll help you skin them,” Gohm said with an unconcerned smile.

“Alright, let’s hurry up and begin the ceremony,” the other middle-aged man said, pulling his worn sheepskin coat tighter. He stamped his feet and complained, “This damned weather is freezing!”

The owl took two steps forward, cocked its head, and sized up the young farmer. “You’re Lindu?” it asked.

The young farmer shrank back but then felt ashamed. He puffed out his chest and said defiantly, “I-I am Lindu, from Huolasong Prefecture. Do you know me?” He then added, stammering, “I-I’m not scared, I’m just sh-sh-shivering from the cold.”

“Heh heh. Heller, your apprentice seems to be very sensitive to the cold,” the owl said to the middle-aged man closest to the fire.

Heller rubbed his hands together and said coldly, “He’s genuinely scared, and I’m genuinely cold. Messenger, the windows here are broken. If we don’t start the ceremony soon, those pigs will probably freeze to death!”

“Then let’s begin.”

The owl, called Messenger, released its left talon, and a pure black crystal dropped to the floor. Heller stepped forward, picked up the crystal, examined it carefully, and nodded at Gohm.

“Bold kid from Huolasong Prefecture, get to work,” Gohm said, clapping the young farmer hard on the shoulder before turning and walking into the back room.

Lindu’s face flushed red and pale. Under Heller’s insistent gaze, he gritted his teeth and followed Gohm into the back room. A moment later, Gohm and Lindu dragged out five unconscious people. They were men and women of all ages, lying motionless on the cold ground. If not for the gentle rise and fall of their chests, they would have looked like corpses.

Heller first arranged the five people in a circle, their heads touching, and placed the black crystal in the very center. Only then did he begin to recite a cryptic incantation.

As Heller chanted, a wispy black mist seeped out of the crystal. The mist gradually spread until it had submerged the five people on the ground. Dark red runes materialized in the air, arranging themselves into a mystical ring. The ring slowly rotated, the mist churned, and four of the people sequentially sat up.

“I am the Vice-Speaker, Giant.”

“I am Councilor Misgen.”

“I am Councilor Sevon.”

“I am Councilor Magathia.”

The four stood up and nodded to each other in greeting. The short old man who called himself Giant spoke first. “The Council President has not yet arrived. Heller, please continue.”

The incantation did not stop, and the ring of runes continued to turn. Heller’s face, however, grew increasingly pale, and fine beads of sweat formed on his forehead. Finally, a tender, crisp voice sounded from within the black mist.

“I am the President of the Shadows. Heller, thank you for your hard work. You may stop now.”

Heller let out a breath and stopped chanting. The runic circle dissolved into motes of light and vanished into the air. With the exception of the young farmer Lindu, everyone present crossed their arms over their chests and said in a unified voice to the little girl who had just stood up, “Greetings, Council President.”

The little girl nodded and turned her gaze to Lindu, who was bowing repeatedly. “Child, you must be Lindu, correct?” she said kindly. “There’s no need to be nervous, nor for such ceremony.”

Only then did Lindu relax. He curiously studied the mysterious little girl. She looked to be seven or eight years old, dressed in a common coarse linen shirt and a short sheepskin coat, looking for all the world like an ordinary farm girl. Only her clear eyes held a wisdom and weariness that seemed to see into the hearts of men. Just as Lindu was about to take a closer look, Gohm clamped a hand on his head, the force of it bending him at the waist.

No one paid any mind to the commotion in the corner. Vice-Speaker Giant was the first to speak. “Council President, this meeting is most timely. I have an important matter to report. Our operation in the Centaur Hills has failed. The assassination target turned out to be a Silver-rank Wind Walk Archer. Furthermore, the Corruptor and the Beast King, who were executing the mission, have both gone missing. I suspect they are already dead!”

“How is that possible?! The Beast King could already transform into a dragonoid and once killed an Ogre Warlord in a direct confrontation. Paired with the Corruptor’s soul reflection, not even a Gold Knight should have been their match! Could a legendary paladin have killed them? Wouldn’t that mean we’ve been exposed?” Councilor Sevon cried out in disbelief.

“Messenger?”

As all eyes turned to it, the large owl quickly said, “I am certain all six legendary paladins are in the Eastern Wildlands fighting the centaur tribes. I just don’t know if Inquisitor-General Lestar and the First Paladin Nachtigal have left Eyer.”

“Those two would not leave Eyer. The entire world would know the moment they made a move. Could it be that the Beast King and the Corruptor defected?” Councilor Magathia said, shaking his head.

“Absolutely not!”

Councilor Misgen said just that one phrase, and the others all nodded in agreement.

The short “Giant” said, “Does everyone remember Fire Crow? He claimed to have been called by the King of Shadows and urged the council to eliminate the nobles with elven bloodlines. After he was overruled, he acted on his own and ended up getting Soul-Shatter killed in the Centaur Hills. Now the Beast King and the Corruptor have also disappeared in the Centaur Hills, and their target was the very same person! Perhaps we should reconsider Fire Crow’s proposal! At the very least, we must find the connection!”

“I concur. The Corruptor is very important to the council. With his whereabouts unknown, we should dispatch someone to the Centaur Hills to search for any trace of him.”

“I concur!”

“I concur!”

“Why should we go to our deaths?” the little girl president asked, her gaze sweeping over them. “Or rather, why should we obey the Whisperers’ arrangements?”

The room fell silent in an instant, the only sound the crackling of the fire in the hearth. The President continued slowly, “The disappearance of our two comrades has nothing to do with the Church and nothing to do with the Nobles. It can only be related to the Whisperers. Let us not forget the disasters the Whisperers have brought upon us. They are not the mentors of us Chosen, much less our masters. They are just a group of despicable liars, hiding in the dark like rats, using lies and deception to lure us into achieving their goals. However, their goals and our goals are diametrically opposed. If we wish to restore the glory of the Chosen, we absolutely must not do as they wish. They want us to go to the Centaur Hills, so we must not go! My fellow members, our hope lies in the East, not in the Centaur Hills!”

“Indeed, when the Church captures a Wizard, they always hold a grand Purification Ceremony. They would never carry out a secret execution without a sound. Besides, the Nobles’ Gold Knights are no match for the Beast King.” Giant bowed to the President and said, “Council President, I was too reckless. I nearly fell for the Whisperers’ scheme. But I do not understand, why does our hope lie in the east?”

The President shook her head. “Do not underestimate the strength of the Gold Knights. The Beast King might be able to escape from a Gold Knight, but he could never defeat one in a direct confrontation, not even with the Corruptor’s help! If they had encountered the Queen of Roses, they would not have even had a chance to escape. My fellow members, I solemnly warn you: stay away from the Gold Knights! The fact that they could hold their own during the Era of the Chosen is enough to earn our respect. In the future, we will cooperate with the Knights as equals, but now is not the time. As for the relationship we had in the past, that can never happen again.”

The members were silent and somber. The President turned her gaze to the timid and bewildered Lindu. “Lindu, did you understand?”

These Wizards spoke of legendary paladins, Gold Knights, and Whisperers. How could Lindu possibly understand? Half a year ago, he was just an ordinary farmer in the Dodor Kingdom. However, Lindu knew that the “little girl” before him was the leader of them all, as important as a Village Head. Her questions had to be answered honestly.

“My… my lord, I… I don’t understand,” Lindu answered, trembling.

The President gave Heller a faint look. Heller’s heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t expected this greenhorn to receive the President’s attention.

Heller braced himself and stepped forward. “Council President, we have been busy traveling and haven’t had the time to educate Lindu. However, I have already told him about the conflict between the Chosen and the Church, as well as some other important matters.”

The President nodded and said to the young farmer, “Lindu, it seems you have not yet come to terms with your current identity?”

“I… I don’t know!”

Lindu covered his face and knelt on the ground, tears streaming through his fingers. He had always been a devout follower of the Lord of Radiance and had never imagined he would become an evil Wizard. If these people hadn’t found him, he feared he would have been burned to death in the public square. At this thought, Lindu was both lost and terrified, and he could not help but cry out loud.

Seeing the rookie Wizard’s weakness, the others wore expressions of disdain. They seemed to have forgotten that they hadn’t been much better off themselves in the beginning. Only the President asked from the side, “Lindu, do you believe you are evil?”

“I’m not a bad person! I’ve never done anything bad,” Lindu said, jumping to his feet and arguing loudly. Feeling this wasn’t convincing enough, he offered an example: “When Gavin and the others asked me to go steal vegetables, I didn’t go!”

“Haha.”

The group burst into laughter. Even the owl let out a strange cackle, but the laughter died abruptly when they saw the dissatisfied look in the Council President’s eyes.

The President said gently to Lindu, “Child, you are not an Evildoer, nor are you a child of Devils. You are a noble Chosen, nobler even than the Knights. The Knights’ nobility lies in their bloodline, while our nobility lies in our souls.”

“Th-then why does the supreme Lord of Radiance want to Purify me?” Lindu asked, confused.

“He’s a liar!” Gohm snarled through gritted teeth.

“Do not slander the Lord of Radiance. His greatness is beyond doubt,” the President said, displeased.

“The Lord of Radiance’s enemies are the Whisperers, not us. The fact that the Lord of Radiance never manifested himself before the turbulent times is clear proof. If the Lord of Radiance allowed the Whisperers to exterminate mortals, we Chosen would also perish. From this perspective, it was the Lord of Radiance who saved us. It’s just that the Radiant Church desires to seize power, and so they insist on eliminating the Chosen. But this is an impossible task.”

Lindu said excitedly, “My lord, the supreme Lord has never abandoned me, is that right? It was Father Nigel who was the blasphemer, wasn’t it?”

“It’s not that simple.” The President was silent for a moment, then explained patiently, “A true being does not require faith. It is the Church itself that needs faith. The Lord of Radiance converts the faith of mortals into holy power and, according to their covenant, feeds it back to the Church’s clergy. Therefore, mortals are the foundation of the Church. The Church cannot bear the risk of humanity’s extinction, which is why they seek to eliminate us Chosen. In truth, the Church is still targeting the Whisperers, because they know that as long as mortals exist, the Chosen can never be wiped out.”

Lindu looked completely bewildered. Heller was lost in deep thought, while Gohm was indignant. The large owl took a step forward and requested of the President, “My lord, allow me to explain.”

The President nodded. The owl said, “You three, listen well. The following information is known only to the high council.”

“The history of our Shadow Council is even longer than that of the Radiant Church. Before the turbulent times, the Chosen were divided into two major factions: one was the Council, and the other was the Pantheon. Our Council focused on the research and inheritance of wizardry, advocating for the development of our own potential to form a complete system of magic. The Pantheon, on the other hand, focused on expansion. They communicated with the Whisperers to enhance their own power. Because of the Whisperers’ help, the Pantheon was much stronger than the Council, but they required vast resources. This led to frequent conflicts between the two sides.”

“The Council achieved great success in the research of its magical system. We broke through the limitations of talent and formed a new system of casting spells. For example, the Advent Spell that Heller just performed is one such achievement. With training, any Chosen can perform it. Thus, the Council began to call themselves Mages, and referred to those in the Pantheon as Warlocks.”

“But both Mages and Warlocks faced the problem of succession. Our lifespans were too short, and our abilities could not be passed down through our bloodlines. The Council’s legendary archmage, Andrew, was tempted by the Whisperers and invented the Blood Sacrifice, which ultimately led to the end of the Era of the Chosen and the rise of the Radiant Church.”

“In the later stages of the war, the Council had already realized the danger of the Blood Sacrifice and the malicious intentions of the Whisperers, but by then, neither side could stop. The awakening of the Lord of Radiance gave the Council hope. The Mages began to cooperate with the first Pope. It was precisely with the Council’s help that the Radiant Church was able to grow strong and form its system of divine arts. Heh, all the Church’s divine arts are the results of our Council’s research.”

“After the Pantheon was defeated, the Pope tore up the alliance treaty and turned on the Council. Although the Mages repeatedly declared that they would no longer listen to the Whisperers’ words, the Pope asked how we could guarantee it. To be honest, we couldn’t. Wasn’t that idiot Fire Crow a perfect example? You all know what happened after that. The Church and mortals are one, and Mages and Warlocks are also one with mortals, yet there is no trust among the three parties. But our legacy remains, and the Council became the Shadow Council.”

“We do not know the reason why the Whisperers seek to exterminate humanity, but we can be certain that the Lord of Radiance only targets the Whisperers. He is protecting humanity from the threat of the Whisperers, which includes us Chosen. This is the foundation upon which we Mages will rise again.”

“You may not know this, but the Radiant Code does not demand the extermination of Wizards, because it is impossible to do so. The Radiant Code is simply a contract between the Church and the Lord of Radiance. If the Lord of Radiance were to awaken again, the Code would become invalid, something the Church cannot tolerate. But while humanity has been distanced from the threat of the Whisperers, it now faces the threat of monsters from the wildlands, which is something no one can accept.”

“If the Sasan Empire is breached by the beastmen, humanity will once again face the danger of extinction. The fewer mortals there are, the weaker the Church’s power becomes. They will be forced to acknowledge the existence of us Mages. The prerequisite is that we Mages must resist the beastmen invasion and also prevent the emergence of Warlocks. This is why the Council forbids listening to the Whisperers. At that time, we Mages will regain our glory and become the new nobility among humanity!”

Lindu asked excitedly, “My lord, can I become a noble too? Is it true?”

“It is true,” the President confirmed with a nod. “However, we must live to see that day! More than ten thousand years ago, the Council established a Mage Tower in the Nidam Great Marsh, dedicated to researching methods to extend our lifespans. Although it didn’t achieve great success, it did successfully develop a secret potion that can send a Mage into a savage state. This can at least extend our lives by twenty years and also enhance our survival capabilities. Finding this secret potion is crucial to the Council’s future plans.”

“Lindu, is it true that once you’ve seen something, you can always search for something identical?”

Lindu nodded repeatedly, speaking with a mix of pride and lecherousness. “Yes, if I see one ground-rat, I know where the others are. I’m an expert at digging up ground-rat burrows; Gavin and the others are no match for me. One time, I saw Lena during the day, and that night in bed, I saw her taking a bath right on my bed. That ass… hehe!”

“Excellent!”

The President said, “The secret potion is sealed within a crystal. We have already found a sample of that type of crystal, which is being held by Nightmare in the east. I now propose that Lindu be appointed as a Councilor, responsible for searching for the Mage Tower ruins in the Nidam Great Marsh. The members of the Council should also proceed to the east as much as possible to cooperate with this search mission.”

“I concur.”

“I concur.”

The high council unanimously passed the President’s proposal, making Heller and Gohm incredibly envious.

“You two are responsible for escorting Councilor Lindu to the east to rendezvous with Nightmare. I will arrange for Nightmare to instruct you in your spells,” the President said to them.

Heller and Gohm were overjoyed and repeatedly agreed. The President then asked Councilor Sevon, “Is there a way to send them to the east?”

Sevon pondered for a moment, then nodded. “In three days, a Caravan from the Kingdom of Borea will pass through Baron Garrott’s town. The caravan’s steward is my man. I can have him take Councilor Lindu along. Of course, only in the capacity of an assistant. On that note, you should set out tonight. I’ve heard that Baron Garrott has hired a large number of mercenaries to exterminate the dire animals here. If you leave too late, you might run into trouble.”

“Yes! Yes! Yes! We’ll leave right away,” Gohm said, nodding and bowing obsequiously.

“Good. This concludes the meeting,” the President announced.

Everyone once again bowed to the President. Then, the five high-ranking members collapsed to the ground one after another. Seeing the little girl’s eyes go dim and lifeless, Lindu asked with concern, “What happened to them?”

“Dead!” Gohm said nonchalantly.

“How could this be? How could this happen?” Lindu murmured to himself.

Heller was about to scold Lindu, but then he remembered that Lindu’s new status was higher than his own. He forced a pleasant tone. “The lords have already departed. Lindu, you are a noble Chosen now. These are just rabble, not worth feeling sorry for.”

Lindu took a deep breath, trying to puff out his chest. “I heard the east is full of man-eating monsters, and only criminals are exiled there. Will we be in danger?” As he spoke, his chest deflated, and his voice grew smaller and smaller.

Gohm and Heller exchanged a look and said with a grin, “The east is our paradise. The Council has operated in the east for over a hundred years. Once we’re there, we won’t have to live in fear. We can eat well, drink well, and there are even noble ladies to sleep with. I guarantee you won’t want to come back once you’ve been there.”

“Are they noble ladies like the village head’s daughter?” Lindu asked, shocked and excited.

“Since when does a village head’s daughter count as a noble lady?” Heller shook his head in disdain. “Only those with a noble bloodline are called noble ladies… It’s hard to explain to you. You’ll understand once we get to the east.”

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s get going!”

“Right! We’ll leave right now! To the east!”

Chapter 206: Reactions

“This letter wasn’t written by me, and my steward has never been to Bryat’s fief!”

The powerful, resonant voice echoed in the spacious hall. Grand Duke Williams, Queen Catherine, and Marquess Golan were gathered in the royal palace’s meeting room to discuss the incident in Bryat’s fief.

Although the Briatte family were lords in Gambis, in the eyes of these three, they were a minor house. The death of the Great Knight Austin in a pitched battle was not enough to warrant Williams and Catherine discussing countermeasures together. The reason the upper echelons of the Gambis Royal Family were treating this so seriously was that the matter involved Sylvia and the York family.

For any royal family, a Gold Knight within the kingdom was both a precious asset and a major problem. Among them, fire-element Gold Knights were the most troublesome.

Fire-element Gold Knights were known as Spirit Knights. Their combat prowess was unparalleled, but their lifespans were shorter, they had no partners, and they could not have children. In their later years, while other Gold Knights were busy raising descendants and training their grandchildren, the reclusive Spirit Knights would become extremely belligerent and dangerous due to the influence of the fire element. They were more inclined to challenge Knights of the same rank, often trampling the Gold Knights of other families underfoot over trivial matters. Fortunately, fire-element Gold Knights were extremely rare, with fewer than ten appearing in nearly eight thousand years of human history. But every single one of them left a profound mark on history, with some even causing the collapse of old kingdoms and the rise of new powers.

It was because of these characteristics that families with fire-element Gold Knights were extremely aggressive. While their backer was still around, they would unscrupulously expand their family’s power, annexing smaller families, seizing more territory, and building taller castles, leaving other major families to watch on helplessly. At such times, if the royal family could not lead the Spirit Knight’s family to expand outward, they would cause turmoil within the kingdom.

Gambis faced the same problem. Just yesterday, a messenger from Sylvia had brought a letter to Marquess Golan. It was this letter that prompted Judy and her son to flee to the Centaur Hills, ultimately leading to the death of Great Knight Austin in Randell Fief. Killing a Great Knight of the kingdom in a pitched battle was a serious incident that challenged the authority of the royal family, but right now, everyone’s attention was focused on the York family’s intentions.

Williams’s outwardly stern but inwardly fearful demeanor brought a sense of schadenfreude to Catherine. Williams’s interference in the affairs of Bryat’s fief was, on the surface, to stabilize the situation in the kingdom’s south and strengthen the royal family’s control over the southern lords. In reality, it was to suppress the infiltration of the Wellington family’s influence into the south, and the Wellington family happened to be Catherine’s main supporter. Now that the York family had slapped Williams in the face, everyone knew that he and the Yorks were not, in fact, on the same side. Catherine was, of course, secretly pleased.

Williams saw a flash of disdain on Catherine’s bright, beautiful face, and his heart churned with a frustration he couldn’t put into words. Since King Ryan’s death, Williams and Catherine had been at odds like fire and water. He hadn’t entered the palace for an audience with the Queen in a long time, but today he had to clarify this matter. Most importantly, he needed to explain himself to Marquess Golan, because Golan had previously stopped Night Owl’s plan to assassinate Viscount Randell. Now, this letter had once again cast suspicion upon him.

“Your Highness Williams, are you certain you did not write this letter?” Golan’s scorching gaze fixed on Williams, as if trying to read the truth from his face.

“I truly did not!” Williams met the Gold Knight’s pressing stare calmly and shook his head firmly. He then asked, “Tutor Golan, did the York family’s messenger say anything?”

“Sylvia said nothing. She just sent someone to deliver this letter,” Golan said in a deep voice.

Catherine’s eyes flickered, and she asked coldly, “Lord Golan, Williams, what are you two hiding from me?”

Golan sighed and recounted the entire sequence of events from beginning to end. “I believe His Highness did not secretly carry out the assassination plan,” he said. “This matter was likely planned by the York family to expand their influence. Forging a letter or sending someone to impersonate His Highness’s steward would be a simple task for the York family.”

“Given the current situation, regardless of who wrote this letter, the Grand Duke must admit to it, and I will tacitly acknowledge the parts about me in the letter,” Catherine said, pausing for a moment. “If Night Owl were whole, we could have detected the York family’s plan in advance and wouldn’t be in such a passive position. I demand to have command of Night Owl returned to me. Lord Golan, what are your thoughts?”

Golan was somewhat displeased and somewhat helpless. Williams was bold and decisive, skilled at winning people over, but he also loved to take risks. Catherine was relatively conservative, but she was meticulous, leaving no loose ends, though she was a bit more self-serving. If the two of them worked together to assist that person, even if that person were a fool, they could manage Gambis in perfect order. Add to that Sylvia, that sharp double-edged sword, and perhaps the kingdom could even advance a step further. Unfortunately, the two were locked in a fierce power struggle, causing Gambis to falter. As for Golan himself, he was not at all skilled in handling internal affairs; maintaining the bigger picture was already the extent of his abilities.

What Golan feared most was that the Centaur Hills would not satisfy the York family’s appetite. Once they started reaching for other lords’ fiefs, if the royal family couldn’t effectively restrain them, the kingdom would face a catastrophic collapse. Yet, if they antagonized the York family, Dodor or Emperor Lant would certainly not miss the opportunity to fan the flames. Then, Gambis would truly be in danger.

Although Catherine could be petty, she was not someone who couldn’t see the bigger picture. To be thinking of reclaiming Night Owl at such a critical moment, she had likely received more definitive news.

At this thought, an idea struck Golan. He asked, “Her Majesty Catherine, is there any news from Duke Wellington?”

Seeing that Marquess Golan did not want to discuss control of Night Owl, Catherine could only sigh inwardly. She nodded and said, “The York family’s envoy, a representative from the Wellington family, and a representative from House Sorim reached a preliminary consensus in Wildwillow City. The York family has no intention of interfering in the Briatte family’s affairs. They proposed that the three parties jointly maintain the independence of Bryat’s fief, conduct fair trade of ordinary goods through Wildwillow City, and also pay taxes to the Briatte family.”

Williams and Golan exchanged a stunned glance. Williams asked in disbelief, “Is that all? They didn’t propose a political marriage, a great hunt, or a military tournament?”

A political marriage and a great hunt were important ways to expand a family’s influence, while a military tournament was a talent recruitment fair for lords. When several families jointly held a military tournament, those underappreciated apprentice knights or noble scholars would display their talents through competition. Not only could they win generous prizes, but they also had the chance to join a major family and secure a future for themselves, and the organizers were not allowed to interfere with the knights’ choices. The York family had titles and land, making them very attractive to knights, but for smaller families, it was blatant talent poaching.

Golan had originally thought the York family would seize firm control of Bryat’s fief and hold regular military tournaments in Wildwillow City to attract talent from other families to the Centaur Hills, thereby strengthening their own power. He never expected that after going to such great lengths to lure and kill a Great Knight, the York family would merely ask for fair trade—of ordinary goods, no less!

However, when Marquess Golan saw Catherine gently shake her head, he heaved a sigh of relief. Williams, on the other hand, muttered in confusion, “What does Sylvia mean by this? What goods could the Centaur Hills possibly have to trade? Refined iron? No, the York family is so poor, yet Duke York has never sold a single piece of refined iron ore! Purple Cane wine? That’s all been handed over to Sophia’s Merchant association! Snow Sugar and coffee? The profits are huge, but the quantity is too small. Besides, Viscount Ternis has already secured half the share. How many goods can the York family have left?”

“No need to guess blindly. It’s raw sugar and green bricks!” Catherine said coldly.

“Raw sugar? Green bricks?”

Catherine ignored Williams and turned to Golan. “Raw sugar is also made from Purple Cane, for commoners to eat. The price is slightly higher than salt, and the quantity is greater than Snow Sugar. In addition, the York family has invented a giant brick kiln that can mass-produce green bricks. These are the two goods they want to sell.”

“I see,” Marquess Golan nodded and said. “The York family, like us, is financially strained. And with the Church at war with the centaur clans, the supplies supporting the Centaur Hills are quite limited. They have no choice but to find other ways to expand their revenue. It seems Sylvia’s agreement with us is still valid; she does not intend to fall out with the kingdom.”

“Her Majesty Catherine, Your Highness Williams, regardless of the twists and turns here, it is a fact that Austin attempted to kill a family heir, and it is also a fact that he invaded Randell Fief. I suggest we let this matter end here.” Golan stood up and offered his counsel to the two members of the royal family.

Just as Catherine was about to nod, a clear, crisp voice cut in.

“Wait!”

The exquisitely beautiful Princess Royal Roland walked in, holding Prince Edward by the hand. She said with a grin, “My little baby wanted to attend this boring meeting and has been eavesdropping for a while, so I had no choice but to bring him over.”

Prince Edward struggled to break free from Roland’s jade-like hand and said angrily, “I am not a little baby! I’m already ten years old.”

“Alright, alright! The little baby is ten years old now. Hurry up and say what you want to say. After you’re done, you can come fishing with me.”

Roland pursed her delicate lips and pushed Edward into the main seat. Williams’s gaze shifted, but he ultimately said nothing. Catherine, however, was very pleased. She patted the back of Prince Edward’s hand and said gently, “Edward, do you have a suggestion?”

Edward looked to his sister for help, but Roland was staring up at the giant painting on the ceiling as if she had never seen it before. Edward bit his lip and stammered, “I… I believe the authority of the royal family cannot be challenged. We should… should summon Viscount Randell and order him to explain himself to the Senate.”

The atmosphere in the room instantly became delicate. Marquess Golan, the Queen, and the Grand Duke had avoided mentioning Viscount Randell from the very beginning, because they all knew what a Wind Walk Archer who had manifested the void element within three years meant to Sylvia. Although Sylvia’s hopes were slim, deep down they all hoped that Viscount Randell could remain by Sylvia’s side. Sylvia had also submitted two marriage certificates to the Senate and the Church, which already showed her attitude toward Viscount Randell. To hold Viscount Randell accountable now would be to touch Sylvia’s most sensitive nerve, which was not in the royal family’s interest.

Catherine gave a wry smile and said, “Darling, this is very complicated. You can’t understand it yet…”

“No! I do know.” Edward stubbornly turned his head away, dodging Catherine’s hand.

“Your Highness Edward, a descendant of the Auguste family always has the right to speak. Please continue,” Marquess Golan said solemnly to Edward.

Prince Edward glanced at Golan gratefully and said, “I can’t understand your concerns, but Lord Bastoen taught me that for things you don’t understand, you should look at the simple parts. See who benefits and who loses. The York family needs our support, and we need the York family to guard the Centaur Hills. If we are suspicious of each other, we both lose, and the real beneficiaries are external powers. I heard that right after the York family clashed with Duke Erickson of the Dodor Kingdom, Duke Erickson was stripped of his title by the King of Dodor and had to pay a large sum to the York family. That was basically sucking up! Then, Austin invaded Randell Fief. Isn’t that too much of a coincidence?”

Catherine’s beautiful eyes lit up. She encouraged him in a gentle voice, “Darling, what you said at the beginning was excellent, but your later speculation is meaningless. In some situations, the truth of the matter is not important; what’s important is how to respond. I want to hear your reasons for holding Viscount Randell accountable.”

“Well, we need to uphold the prestige of the royal family, and the York family needs the kingdom’s support. We must make our attitudes clear to each other so that external powers have no opportunity to exploit.”

“Well said!” Williams clapped, then asked with a smile, “Then how do we solve the problem of trust?”

Edward said loudly, “I will go to the Black Fortress on a visit, and I will stay until Viscount Randell returns to the Centaur Hills.” With that, he mustered his courage and said to Williams, “Royal Uncle, I would like to ask Viscount Soren to accompany me.”

Catherine lost her composure and cried out, “No, you cannot!”

Williams was visibly shaken. Edward and Soren traveling together was no different from placing his neck under Williams’s blade. A strange light flashed in Marquess Golan’s eyes, as if he were seeing this young prince for the first time. He asked slowly, “Your Highness Edward, why do you want to do this?”

“Um… um…” Edward’s face turned beet red as he blurted out, “Sister said she wants to see what’s so special about a Wind Walk Archer. She also said Victor was just a pretty face, and she’s curious—Oof!”

The gazes of the three adults snapped to Roland. She sheepishly removed the hand covering Edward’s mouth, then said fiercely, “You’re done for, kid! Just wait till I spank your little bottom!”

“Don’t run!”

Little Edward took off running, with Roland chasing after him, flailing her arms. In an instant, the siblings had vanished. Watching their receding figures, Golan felt a great sense of hope and pride welling up inside him.

In a clearing deep within the Gloomy Forest, more than thirty strong Alchemical militia were tirelessly digging a huge pit. The depth of the pit, combined with the height of the piled-up earth, already far exceeded the height of the Alchemical militia. Pits like this were everywhere on the ground.

A dozen or so massive Warhounds were divided into six groups, struggling to tear apart the corpses of Bugbears. Nearby, however, there were no remains of ordinary goblins. Only the simple weapons scattered on the ground proved that a battle had once taken place here, and that at least several hundred goblins had been killed.

Ting!

An iron hoe struck something hard with a crisp sound. An Alchemical militiaman immediately bent down and brushed away the black soil with his hands, revealing a curved, earth-yellow stone surface. Other Alchemical militia came over and quickly began digging around the stone. As the surrounding black mud was cleared away, the yellow stone’s true form gradually emerged. It was a half-man-tall, perfectly spherical rock with a very smooth surface and no markings. Its earthy yellow color was a stark contrast to the surrounding black mud.

A strong Crouching Ox Militiaman gave it a hard push, but the stone ball didn’t budge. He then picked up a heavy hammer of refined iron and smashed it down hard on the sphere.

BANG!

With a loud bang, the Crouching Ox Militiaman staggered back several steps. The hammerhead, forged from refined iron, had already deformed. The webbing between his thumb and index finger had split open, and crimson blood dripped down the handle onto the ground, yet the stone ball’s surface didn’t even have a tiny crack.

An Alchemical militiaman let out a long whistle, and several alchemical crows flew down from the trees.

“Gloomy Forest, suspicious target found,” the Alchemical militiaman repeated three times to the alchemical crow.

The alchemical crow’s blood-red eyes flashed as it parroted, “Gloomy Forest, suspicious target found.”

“Gloomy Forest, suspicious target found.”

The three alchemical crows beat their wings and took flight, soaring through the dense canopy and heading toward the Alchemy Tower.

Chapter 207: Preparations

Victor’s manor sat in a valley by the Black River. After several expansions, the estate covered thirty-four hundred mu and included a lord’s residence, fifteen guest villas, four barracks, two warehouses, stables, a pasture, and a garden. The manor grounds encompassed an adjacent hill, at the foot of which lay a seven-hundred-mu forest. Three pools had been dug along a mountain stream. Victor had now named this estate Silver Moon Manor.

In the human world, a manor was the private property of its lord. It contained arable land, common land, the manor lord’s residence, and housing for hired farmhands. The manor lord was either a noble or a vassal, and the hired farmhands were freemen. However, these freemen were different from rootless refugees; they were mostly the children of lesser vassals or the lord’s subjects. Their skills, status, income, and prospects were worlds apart from what a refugee could hope for. As a result, hired farmhands from these backgrounds were far more loyal and reliable than those who were refugees.

A typical manor had a main building surrounded by farmland, pasture, and woodland. Besides organizing farming and animal husbandry, the manor lord would also set up various production facilities like a mill, a wine cellar, a weaving shed, a blacksmith shop, and a carpentry workshop. In most cases, a manor could be self-sufficient, and the flour, clothing, cheese, wine, and tools it produced were important sources of income for the lord. A knight’s manor also had to produce military equipment for its liege lord, train soldiers, and raise warhorses. A manor was, in essence, an economic unit with a military purpose. Even the holiday manors of the nobility were built in much the same way.

Silver Moon Manor, however, was different from a traditional noble’s manor. It was a purely leisure-oriented estate.

Victor’s military production was kept firmly within the Hill Camp and a secret fortress. He didn’t concern himself with civilian technology, as the villages in the Randell Fief, which functioned as both hamlets and ordinary manors, handled the production of civilian goods. Victor had no need for a traditional manor. And so, with plenty of land, people, and bricks—and a touch of willfulness—he had built Silver Moon Manor into what was essentially a private park.

Silver Moon Manor was a picturesque landscape woven from hills and meadows. Upon entering the main gate, a tree-lined avenue, flanked by towering Hemlocks, stretched straight into a tranquil forest. To the left of the road ran a clear mountain stream, punctuated by three man-made pools. The water in the pools was a dark green, rippling in the gentle breeze, the reflection of the beautiful hills shimmering on its surface. When the mountain flowers were in full bloom, it would undoubtedly be a breathtaking scene of vibrant colors. Over a dozen exquisite villas stood to the right of the avenue. Compared to the grand and profound atmosphere of the rest of the manor, they seemed somewhat small, but the lord’s residence itself was nothing short of magnificent and spectacular.

The lord’s residence was the main building of Silver Moon Manor, occupying over sixty mu of land. It stood twenty-two meters tall, with five floors, one hundred and ten rooms, four wine cellars, and eight storerooms. Constructed in a Gothic style, the residence featured numerous spires, soaring and slender yet retaining a sense of solidity, a testament to the craftsmen’s superb architectural skills. The exterior walls were plastered with fine white sand, and the contrast of the white walls and black tiles, shaded by two towering iron oak trees, made the entire building look as splendid and magnificent as a palace. Its striking artistic character left a strong, unforgettable visual impact on all who saw it.

Victor had gone to great pains to build this residence. He had laid out his stylistic requirements, and the alchemical auxiliary soldiers, who were well-versed in architecture, quickly completed the design blueprints. Victor studied the plans carefully and even did some research on the subject himself before calling in Anthony’s apprentice. Despite Victor’s repeated guidance, the apprentice was unable to complete the design. It was only after Anthony returned that he, leading his apprentice, finally finished the design after five days of work.

Three months later, when the building was completed, Anthony came especially to see it. In the end, even he was stunned by the magnificent structure. Overjoyed, he thanked Victor profusely, believing it was the artistic talent from Victor’s elven bloodline that had helped him achieve such a groundbreaking feat in architectural history.

Victor, of course, did not correct him. He had expended enormous manpower and resources to build Silver Moon Manor for more than just his own enjoyment; the manor itself was a form of advertisement. As a Spire Scholar, Anthony held a certain standing in the academic world. His “groundbreaking feat” would spread through the Spire to the human nobility, and once a trend of building vacation manors took hold, it would drive the development of the entire green brick industry.

It was afternoon, and the sunlight was warm and gentle as Victor strolled through the manor with Lady Judy. Not far off, Lilia was whispering with the sisters Elina and Alice.

Because Sylvia had been exceptionally firm, Victor had no choice but to sign the a marriage certificate. After receiving it, Sylvia left Randell Fief that very day, while Elina and Alice remained at Silver Moon Manor.

The arrival of these beautiful sisters brought Victor a great deal of inconvenience. He had to readjust the proportion of alchemical humans in the Randell Fief. More than a hundred alchemical militiamen returned to the mountains to mine Thorium, and Victor’s personal guard was reduced by nearly half, from ninety alchemical militiamen to thirty alchemical militiamen and thirty regular guards. One-Eyed Dragon Gru now served as the captain of the personal guard, with Reno and Shak as his vice-captains.

Elina and Alice had wine-red hair, skin as white as snow, and exquisitely beautiful faces. Their gentle dispositions brought Victor great pleasure, but also a degree of curiosity.

Generally speaking, even if a female apprentice knight did not become a full-fledged Knight, she could still marry a minor lord. Although a personal handmaiden was also a legal partner whose children had inheritance rights, it was still a step down in status. For two sisters to simultaneously become personal handmaidens to a Viscount was highly irregular. Moreover, the sisters had arrived without any attendants or relatives. Just the two of them joined the House of Randell, and they brought with them a debt of twenty thousand Gold Sols.

When Sylvia had asked for the money, Victor nearly jumped out of his skin. Since when were female apprentice knights sold by the head, and for ten thousand Gold Sols each at that? Could he order a dozen? Sylvia offered no explanation, merely sneering, “Dream on!” before leaving with the sand table.

Victor later learned that Elina and Alice’s father was not a pure-blooded noble. He had fathered the sisters with a handmaiden when he was in his seventies. Consequently, Elina and Alice’s bloodline and status were quite low, and their circumstances became even more difficult after their father’s death. The York family, seeing that the twin sisters were bewitchingly beautiful, took them in to raise and educate. However, the sisters’ noble bloodline was indeed very thin, and by the age of eighteen, they still had not awakened their Aura. So, the York family expended twenty cleansing potions that awakened one’s bloodline to activate their knight’s bloodline, all for the purpose of using the sisters in a political marriage with another noble family. The twenty-thousand-Gold-Sol debt was the cost of those potions. Now that Victor had benefited from this arrangement, Sylvia naturally came to him to collect the debt.

Although Elina and Alice were apprentice knights, the use of the cleansing potions meant they had no chance of advancing to the rank of Knight. As tools cultivated by the York family for a political marriage, their combat abilities were average and their personalities meek. In contrast, they were quite proficient in music, etiquette, and household management.

Victor didn’t care about the sisters’ bloodline or combat prowess, but he had no intention of keeping these two beautiful and understanding female apprentice knights as mere canaries in a cage. What he lacked was talented people.

Victor had risen too quickly and had too few capable hands. In three years, he had only managed to train a few village heads and the War Bear faction. Furthermore, as more and more people joined the Randell Fief, the influence of Narsen’s family grew. Victor didn’t doubt Narsen’s loyalty, but a system of checks and balances was still necessary. Elina and Alice were the fresh blood that the House of Randell could absorb.

Given the sisters’ background with the York family, Victor would not let them handle core affairs. He planned to have Elina manage Silver Moon Manor, train qualified family attendants, and educate the children of the work point system members. Alice would be responsible for managing the green brick and raw sugar trade. Lilia would remain in overall control.

To elevate the sisters’ status in the Randell Fief and also to make a statement to the York family, Victor held a special welcome banquet for them, inviting Father Miller, the mid-level leaders of the Randell Fief, Nicole, and Lady Judy.

At the banquet, Lilia and the sisters appeared quite close, at least on the surface. Only Nicole wore an unhappy expression. The other three women didn’t dare vie for attention with her, making Nicole the inadvertent star of the banquet. This was a common occurrence at noble banquets—after all, Nicole was a noble knight.

Among Victor’s women, Nicole was the only one who would show her jealousy, even daring to do so in front of Sylvia, who, strangely, never took offense. Victor could never figure it out, but thankfully, he always had a way to soothe Nicole. Besides, Nicole had a mountain of things to deal with herself. After a few tender days with Victor, she reluctantly left Silver Moon Manor.

The matter of women was a minor trouble. What changes the Elina sisters would bring to the Randell Fief was hard to predict. Regardless, in three years, Victor had completed a magnificent transformation from a country bumpkin to a man of means. Now, with a mansion in hand and beauties by his side, Victor was in high spirits as he said to Judy, “Lady Judy, what do you think of Silver Moon Manor?”

A gentle smile graced Judy’s porcelain-like face. Her red lips parted as she said, “Silver Moon Manor is the most beautiful manor I have ever seen.”

A glint appeared in Victor’s eyes. He said politely, “Then I shall have my men build a manor for you in Bryat’s fief. What do you think?”

“Ah?! Oh… alright.”

Victor’s plan to build a manor in Bryat’s fief was both to promote his green bricks and to demonstrate his relationship with and influence over the Briatte family. In Judy’s ears, however, his words carried a different meaning.

Half a month ago, Judy’s parents, Baron and Baroness Matthew, had visited Silver Moon Manor. The Baron had discussed many details of their cooperation with Victor, while the Baroness had met with Judy.

Judy had learned from her mother that they now controlled the situation in Wildwillow City. The old steward had returned to the fortress, Austin’s remaining supporters had surrendered, and Austin’s family had been taken away by House Sorim. Bryat’s fief was once again in Judy’s hands. This time, the Baron and Baroness would take the family heir, Primo, with them to stabilize things, while Judy was to remain in the Randell Fief until the dust settled.

Judy had no objections to this arrangement, but the Baroness had then demanded that she turn the rumors into reality.

Faced with her mother’s suggestion, Judy felt a little troubled. Although it was commonplace for nobles to have a lover or two, it depended on the status of both partners. Sylvia’s status was so revered; how could Victor dare to cheat on her? The Baroness, however, said that whether Victor dared to accept was his own decision, but Judy had to take the initiative and make her feelings clear. It was a matter of stance!

Victor was young, handsome, and of noble blood, the most ideal candidate for a lover. Having received the education of a noble lady since childhood, Judy was not opposed to such things, but Victor simply had too many women around him. Sylvia was not even worth mentioning. Nicole was not only a Knight but also a fief-holding baron. Lilia, though lacking a noble bloodline, was the most favored. And the Elina sisters, already beautiful, were even more radiant now that they had received his favor. Judy felt she couldn’t compare to any of them, let alone two. Victor was too busy, and Judy had no opportunity to make a move. Her parents had returned to Wildwillow City with Primo, and Judy had still made no progress.

Now, Victor had suddenly offered to build a manor for her. Was this a hint? Judy’s heart pounded in her chest, and two crimson clouds bloomed on her fair cheeks, adding a new layer to her beauty.

Victor had no idea his proposal would cause such a misunderstanding. His attention was not on Judy anyway, as Gru was walking towards him.

“My lord, a messenger from the York family just delivered a letter.”

Victor took the letter from Gru’s hand. After reading it, he bowed to Judy and said, “My Lady, I have something to attend to. Please excuse me.” With that, he turned and walked towards the residence.

Watching Victor’s upright back disappear through the door, Judy bit her lip, gathered her skirts, and hurried after him.

Victor sat in his study, his fingers tapping lightly on the desk. He heard faint footsteps outside the door. From the sound alone, he knew it was Judy.

The footsteps paused before the door for a long moment before a knock finally sounded. Victor opened the door directly and welcomed Judy inside.

By now, Judy had changed out of her ermine cloak into nothing more than a low-cut, thin silk gown. Her golden hair cascaded over her snow-white shoulders. Her chest was high, her waist slender, and her beautiful, picturesque face was flushed crimson. Though it was the Season of Water, the study was warm and cozy. Her graceful body trembled slightly, and her small hands were clasped tightly together. She lowered her head, staring at the tips of her delicate feet, and whispered, “Victor, I…”

Victor smiled faintly. He knew perfectly well why Lady Judy had come.

The relationships between noble men and women might seem decadent, but they actually followed their own rules, far less casual and promiscuous than one might find with a modern hookup app. In short, offspring were far more important than lust, the weak clung to the strong, and lower bloodlines sought out higher ones. Whether a wife, a personal handmaiden, or a lover, all fell under the category of a partner, and these relationships were quite stable. The stronger party would have multiple partners, while the weaker party rarely strayed. They could not afford the consequences of betrayal and were more eager to have their partner’s offspring. Sylvia was the only exception. But if Victor could get her to bear him a child, she would surely try to monopolize him, and Victor would find it very difficult to resist her charm. At that point, however, the power dynamic between Victor and Sylvia would be reversed.

As for Judy, she needed to establish a stable, hierarchical relationship with Victor. Becoming his lover was her only choice. If Victor refused her, she could only find another powerful figure to depend on, for she was merely an apprentice knight, and the Briatte family had been crippled by Victor.

Victor could be indifferent to Judy’s beauty, but he could not tolerate any more instability in Bryat’s fief. Everyone understood this. If Victor was unwilling to form a partnership with Judy, Sylvia would choose a Great Knight from her own family to take on the role—a political marriage with the least amount of influence.

Victor was no saint, nor would he be pretentious. He gently lifted Judy’s delicate chin, stared into her moving, pitiful eyes, and said flirtatiously, “Darling, we have plenty of time, but not right now.”

Although Judy had resolved to make her feelings known, she was still shy and uneasy when she saw Victor, having completely forgotten the tactics her mother had taught her. Hearing his words, she relaxed completely, her noble elegance returning to her.

Victor returned to his seat, waved the parchment letter in his hand, and said, “His Highness Prince Edward is inspecting the Centaur Hills and has already taken up residence in Black Fortress. His Highness brought a writ from the Senate. The Senate requires us to go to the Royal Capital and explain the matter of Austin’s death.”

Judy’s face turned a little pale. Victor smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry, this was all to be expected. Go and pack your things now. We leave tonight. We’ll go to Black Fortress Town first to have an audience with His Highness, and then we’ll proceed to the Royal Capital.”

“Yes, I’ll go prepare right away.” Judy curtsied and then left the study.

Victor shook his head. Judy’s bloodline wasn’t bad, and she had even awakened her Aura on her own, yet her mother had raised her to be a weak-willed noblewoman. Although she became a lord’s wife, she had ultimately gone down the wrong path.

Pushing aside the strange thoughts, Victor went out and found an attendant, instructing him to fetch Lilia.

A short while later, Lilia entered the study and sat directly on Victor’s lap.

Victor held Lilia and said softly, “You’ve been wronged.”

Lilia shook her head gently, but her small, rosy mouth was pouting. Victor chuckled. “It can’t be helped. Our fief is in the Centaur Hills, so we must maintain a united front with the York family, and we must let everyone know it. But I promise, they are not as important as you.”

“Mmm!” Lilia nodded vigorously. Victor said, “I’m leaving for the Royal Capital soon, and I have to take the Elina sisters with me. After things in the capital are settled, I also have to make a trip to the Gloomy Forest. Don’t ask why.” Victor placed a finger on Lilia’s red lips and continued, “By the time I return, it will be about five months. For such a long time, the family’s affairs will all depend on you.”

Lilia shifted in his arms and asked worriedly, “Victor, will it be dangerous? Should I have my brother go with you?”

“Narsen can’t go. Publicly, he needs to recuperate from his injuries. Privately, he can keep the situation here stable. Besides, Linda is pregnant, so that’s all the more reason for him not to go.” Victor shook his head and said, “There are a few things I need to entrust to you.”

“Right now, many of the freemen’s wives are pregnant. This is a good thing; it will help stabilize the fief. When you’re assigning work, be sure to protect the pregnant women. It would be best to arrange for some women to go to Father Miller and learn some medical and nursing knowledge. Father Miller has to manage over twenty thousand people, after all. He can’t do it all by himself.”

“The planting is mostly finished. Take some people and have them participate in the construction of the stream reservoirs. After the Season of Water ends, you can begin building the castle at River Mouth Town. When I return, I hope to see five stream reservoirs and a castle. Can you do it?”

Lilia’s voice was firm. “Of course I can.”

Victor hesitated for a moment, then said, “If you encounter any problems that are difficult to solve, you can ask Nicole for help, but you must still keep the core affairs from her…”

Lilia hadn’t forgotten Nicole’s reaction when she heard Victor was in danger. She opened her mouth, but in the end, she simply nodded silently.

Victor sighed and said, “Go and get Jack for me.”

Not long after Lilia left, Jack appeared before Victor.

Jack was the first Lithe Ape militiaman under Victor’s command. He had not only mastered the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form to a high degree but had also cultivated a simplified version of the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form. Combined with his explosive secret technique, his strength among the alchemical militia was second only to Reno’s. Three years of training had significantly improved the emotional intelligence of Jack and Reno. While they still couldn’t compare to ordinary people, they no longer showed any obvious strangeness, resembling simple, taciturn farmers.

There were seventeen alchemical militiamen like Jack and Reno, whom Victor called the Elite Guards.

“Jack, I have received a message. A suspicious target has been discovered in the Gloomy Forest. For the next few months, I will be leaving the Randell Fief. Before I go, I have a mission for you.”

“Go to the mountain stronghold, select fifty alchemical militiamen, twenty Warhounds, and eighty alchemical crows. Then proceed to the Great Marsh to conduct a reconnaissance mission. Look for any signs of the Ant-men, draw maps, survey for resources, and be alert for any anomalies.”

Jack asked, “My lord, what is the priority level of this mission?”

“There is no level! I want you to act on your own judgment, while ensuring your own safety!”

“Understood, my lord.”

——————————————

As Jack hurried towards the mountain stronghold, Father Miller stepped out of his small church. Staring to the west, he murmured, “He’s finally thought of the Great Marsh.”

“Father, what are you talking about?” a church attendant asked curiously from his side.

Father Miller smiled. “I said! What is meant to happen, will happen! Who is meant to be met, will be met!”

As the words left his lips, the old priest’s body immediately hunched over. The wrinkles on his face deepened, and he looked as if he had aged ten years in an instant.

Chapter 208: The Meeting and the Inquiry

Black Fortress Town should be called a city.

This city, twenty-five square kilometers in size, was built along the river. It boasted a sixty-meter-high sturdy fortress and city walls nearly forty meters tall, upon which were mounted powerful ballistae and trebuchets. Outside the walls, a twenty-five-meter-wide moat flowed slowly. Artisans had cleverly built culverts to divert river water into the city, forming a canal that ran through its entirety. This four-kilometer-long canal provided Black Fortress with a stable water source. Because its banks were planted with roses, it was also known as the Rose River. To the west of the Rose River lay twelve thousand mu of farmland, while the building complexes were to the east, naturally including blacksmiths and warehouses among them.

A fortress, high walls, a water source, farmland, blacksmiths, and warehouses—these were all essential elements for a great family’s central city, and Black Fortress was precisely that for the York duchy.

Knights were the longspears and sharp swords for a family to expand its territory, but an impregnable city was the family’s true foundation.

Sylvia had used her influence and the kingdom’s situation to lead the York family’s Westward Migration, expanding their domain threefold. To establish a firm footing in the Centaur Hills, the York family spent a million Gold Sols to build Black Fortress Town.

Black Fortress Town lived up to expectations, withstanding the crucible of war and holding the Ant-man army at bay. However, the aftereffects of the war were beginning to show in the town.

It was now the coldest time of the year, and an air of desolation hung over Black Fortress Town. There were no endless streams of caravans, no crowded streets, no bustling shops. Only a few people could be seen on the deserted avenues. Of the more than thirty thousand residents of Black Fortress Town, fewer than four thousand remained.

The most significant change was the disappearance of the freemen from outside the city. Whether the lords liked it or not, freemen were the measure of a town’s prosperity. Over twenty thousand freemen had once gathered outside Black Fortress Town, but now the people had left and the shacks stood empty. The shantytowns had been converted into storage yards.

Caravans still frequented Black Fortress Town, but they no longer needed to enter the city. The York family had few goods to sell, so the caravans would unload their cargo in the storage yards, where it would quickly be hauled away by vassal lords from various territories. Of course, caravans could purchase one decent product in Black Fortress Town: wheels wrapped in ground lizard skin.

A broken wheel on the road was always particularly vexing, and such vexing things happened often. Thus, the more durable lizard-skin wheels were extremely popular, earning the York family a good sum of money. Other families wanted to imitate them, but they lacked a sufficient supply of ground lizard skin. The caravan stewards didn’t know why the York family had so much of it, but the income from selling lizard-skin wheels was far from enough to cover their expenditure on supplies.

In the eyes of outsiders, Black Fortress Town was like a wounded behemoth, continuously losing blood. It would take at least seven or eight years to recover. But the people of the York family did not see it that way.

The Ant-man plague had indeed left the York family severely weakened, a thousand years of accumulation squandered. Although they gained more land and people after quelling the plague, they lacked sufficient supplies and food. Until they could achieve self-sufficiency, the York family had to purchase daily necessities with money. For other families, this was a gluttonous feast.

Moldy grain and old leather goods were continuously shipped to Black Fortress Town and exchanged for shiny Gold Sols. They were just waiting for the York family to spend its last gold coin before they would bare their fangs for the refined iron mines of the Centaur Hills. Although the York family’s combat strength was formidable, many things could not be solved by military might alone. But these families did not know that the behemoth was about to regain its vitality and become even stronger.

There was no one to be seen in the city because everyone had gone off to build the fortress, dig reservoirs, herd cattle and sheep, and farm pigs. The promotion of the new agropastoral system meant the York family no longer needed to import wheat seed. By next year, they would be self-sufficient in grain. In another two years, the number of cattle, sheep, and horses would return to pre-war levels. Once the three fortresses sealed the entrance to the Great Marsh, freemen from all over would once again gather outside the city.

Duke Enbise York, with his keen business acumen, had made arrangements in advance. The disorderly shanties in Black Fortress Town were gone, replaced by houses built of green brick. These were two-story buildings, with shops below and residences above, laid out in an exceptionally neat plan. The roads were also very wide, able to accommodate three carriages abreast, flanked by sidewalks separated by ornamental trees and flowerbeds. Once Black Fortress Town recovered, the rent from these shops alone would allow the York family to line their pockets.

Within the city, a luxurious noble’s carriage pierced the cold mist, slowly making its way toward the imposing Black Fortress. The heavy hooves of the draft horses clattered on the empty streets, alerting the patrolling soldiers. When they saw the crest on the carriage door, they bowed in salute. With an unobstructed path, the carriage soon stopped at the rear gate of Black Fortress.

Victor stepped out of the carriage and surveyed the brand-new Black Fortress Town, a faint smile playing on his lips. The layout of the houses, streets, and ornamental trees here was remarkably similar to River Mouth Town. In imitating him, the York family had also adopted his clean and orderly style. Unwittingly, the Centaur Hills already bore Victor’s mark.

A small, fair hand took Victor’s arm, and a soft voice sounded by his ear, “It’s truly magnificent, just a bit deserted.”

Judy stepped out of the carriage. A snow-white camel fleece cloak concealed her graceful figure, but a hint of amorous passion lingered in her eyes. The fifteen days they had traveled together had given her a sense of belonging in both body and heart. Now, about to have an audience with an important member of the royal family, she was understandably nervous and leaned against Victor’s side like a dependent fledgling.

Victor had been with Judy for over two months, and their journey to Black Fortress had been a seamless one. He had come to understand her temperament. Judy’s every move and expression exuded a helpless, frail air that always managed to stir a man’s protective instincts. This was an experience Victor had never had before, and it also revealed her instinct to attach herself to the strong. A weak will could hardly guarantee loyalty, but as long as he gave her confidence, she would not betray him easily.

Victor patted Judy’s fair, delicate hand and asked, “How does this place compare to Wildwillow City?”

Judy smiled without a word, and Victor also smiled. “Black Fortress Town is certainly no match for the century-old Wildwillow City, but just a few years ago, this was an empty plot of land, and these houses only started being built a year ago. Don’t be fooled by how deserted it is now; it will be bustling in less than two years. I hear the York family is even planning to build an outer city. In five years, it will surpass Wildwillow City.”

Judy’s eyes widened. She looked at the orderly rows of green brick houses and the wide streets and said in disbelief, “How… how is that possible?”

“If you use the right methods, it’s not impossible at all,” Victor nodded and said to Judy, “His Highness Prince Edward and My lord Duke York are still waiting for us. Let’s go in.”

Judy nodded slightly and followed Victor into Black Fortress.

As soon as they entered Black Fortress, a male and a female attendant came forward to greet them. Although they both recognized Victor, they still respectfully confirmed his identity and asked his purpose before leading him and Judy onward.

Victor noticed that security within Black Fortress was tight. Along the long corridor, two formidable guards stood post every twenty meters. When Victor passed, they merely bowed their heads in acknowledgment. All the while, Judy never let go of Victor’s arm, a posture befitting a companion.

At the door to the reception hall, the attendants helped Victor and Judy remove their cloaks and fur coats, revealing the formal attire that signified their status. Victor was dressed in a blue viscount’s attire with a white fine linen shirt, while Judy wore a light-blue, waist-cinching long dress. For a moment, with the man handsome and upright and the woman beautiful and gentle, they looked like a perfectly matched pair. Two apprentice knights in scale armor standing before the door gave them a discreet glance before turning to knock.

Scribe Max opened the great oak door edged in silver. Upon seeing Victor and Judy, he said politely, “Viscount Randell, Lady Judy, Duke York and His Highness Prince Edward await your audience.”

Victor entered the reception hall and saw Duke York seated on the main seat. To his right sat a small boy wearing a purple-gold coronet and a prince’s attire. To his left sat the plainly dressed Bishop Pello. Two other men in viscount’s formal attire sat to the boy’s right. One had black hair and blue eyes with a handsome face, while the other was burly with a thick head of hair and a beard, bearing a strong resemblance to Baron Eskri.

Seeing Victor and Judy bow to him, the plump, pale Duke York rose from his chair and smiled warmly. “Viscount Randell, allow me to introduce you to His Highness Prince Edward.”

It had been a while since Victor had seen Duke York, and he had clearly put on some more weight. As the Duke enthusiastically grabbed his arm, Victor felt a rather strange sensation. Although Duke York and Sylvia were husband and wife in name only, as a transmigrator, Victor still felt a sense of guilt facing this man. Of course, Victor couldn’t appreciate the pressure other men felt when facing Sylvia. Duke York eating himself to such a size was also a way of avoiding her. And Duke York’s enthusiasm for Victor stemmed from their commercial compatibility; he believed Victor would be an excellent business partner.

“His Highness, Prince Edward Auguste.”

Led by Duke York, Victor and Judy bowed to the boy on the high-backed chair. “Good day, Your Highness.”

“Lady Judy, there is no need for such ceremony.” Little Edward nodded back at Judy, then smiled at Victor. “Victor, we meet again.”

The little Baron had met Prince Edward in the royal palace before. At the time, Edward was only four or five years old and wouldn’t have had much of an impression of Victor. However, Victor’s physical features were simply too striking, especially his pure black eyes, which no one else possessed. The young prince was condescending to show Victor favor on Sylvia’s account.

Unfortunately, Victor didn’t care for things like status. Seeing the little fellow trying hard to act like an adult, he found it rather cute, but on the surface, he said respectfully, “It is my honor to have an audience with Your Highness again.”

Prince Edward naturally took the lead in the introductions. With a wave of his hand, he said, “My lord Bishop Pello.”

After the two paid their respects, Pello said politely, “May the Lord of Radiance protect you.”

“Viscount Soren Wimbledon.”

Soren rose and returned the gesture elegantly, then nodded at Victor. Victor also smiled and nodded back. Both were calm, neither warm nor cold, and there was certainly no clash between them. It was a completely normal exchange of courtesies.

Victor had occupied the little Baron’s body and inherited his karma, but he had no personal grudge against Soren. Given Victor’s current strength and status, as long as Soren wasn’t a fool, there would be no reason for them to fight.

“Viscount Squire Eskri.”

Squire first returned the salute to Judy before turning to Victor with a hearty laugh. “Lord Randell, I am Baron Eskri’s brother. Kovaan often mentions you in his letters. I must thank you for the aid you’ve given our Eskri family.”

Baron Eskri’s situation had been tragic. His family was already poor, and after suffering through the Ant-man plague, he had to deal with the Briatte family driving out their subjects. When over a thousand people flooded into his territory, Eskri was at his wit’s end. Fortunately, Victor promptly took those people in, preventing them from destroying the fief’s resources. The Eskri family were direct vassals of Marquess Golan, known for their unity and martial prowess. As Baron Eskri’s brother, Squire was genuinely grateful to Victor.

“Your Lordship is too kind. Looking out for one another is the duty of neighbors,” Victor said humbly.

Squire’s expression, however, turned serious. He gave Victor a formal Knight’s salute and said solemnly, “If Your Lordship hadn’t sent a timely warning, given Kovaan’s personality, I’m afraid he would have died at the hands of the Ant-man army. We, the Eskri family, owe you a debt of gratitude, and we will surely repay it in the future.”

Squire’s sincerity moved Victor somewhat. He said no more polite words, simply returning the salute with equal gravity.

Once Duke York and Prince Edward were seated, Bishop Pello addressed Victor and Judy. “In accordance with the New Covenant of Light, I, on behalf of His Majesty the Pope and in the presence of the Supreme Lord, will now question you both regarding the death of Lord Austin. Please be sure to answer truthfully.”

“Lady Judy, please describe in detail the reason for and process of your flight to the Randell Fief.”

Judy secretly breathed a sigh of relief. In hindsight, she too had noticed many suspicious aspects and had been uneasy about them. But Bishop Pello’s question was clearly biased in their favor, so there was nothing more to worry about. Softly, she recounted the reasons for what had happened.

After listening, Bishop Pello nodded and then said gently to Victor, “Lord Randell, please recount the details and location of Austin’s death.”

Victor gave a faint smile and announced, “My lord Bishop, I request to be subjected to Detect Lie.”

Detect Lie was a third-level divine art, before which no lie could be hidden. The Church would not typically use Detect Lie on a lord so easily. Only when a lord harmed commoners, harbored a Wizard, and caused relatively serious consequences, and there was no evidence, would a clergy member use Detect Lie to convict them.

Before coming, Bishop Pello had specially reviewed Father Miller’s reports and learned that Victor had shouldered the full responsibility of providing relief aid to the populace, which gave him a very favorable impression of Victor. Although there was something fishy about Austin’s death, the Church was currently focused on its campaign in the Northern Wildlands and had no time to spare for the Ant-man threat. Therefore, the situation in the Centaur Hills could not be disrupted. This inquiry was just a formality; the truth of the matter was not important. Since Victor had proactively requested Detect Lie, it meant the York family must have had nothing to do with the matter. This was, in fact, the York family’s statement to the royal family that they had no intention of offending the authority of the crown.

Bishop Pello was pleased to see this happen. He took out a White crystal, silently recited a prayer, and platinum-gold runes materialized above the crystal before dissolving into points of light in the air.

“If it is a lie, the crystal will turn red.”

Bishop Pello showed the transparent crystal to everyone, then gestured to Victor. “Your Lordship, you may begin.”

By the time Victor finished recounting the course of events, the crystal had not changed at all. At this point, Duke York faintly added, “I was also completely unaware of this matter!”

No one would think Duke York was Sylvia’s puppet. In fact, this shrewd, fat man was one of the leaders of the York family, and all family matters, large and small, passed through his hands. The crystal remained as clear as ever. Victor had not lied, which meant Sylvia was unaware. Duke York had not lied, which meant the upper echelon of the York family was not involved.

Bishop Pello said to Max, “Scribe, please record my conclusion: Austin, in his attempt to murder a family heir and invade the Randell Fief, died in a fair duel.”

Max handed over the written parchment scroll. Bishop Pello looked it over, took out his seal, and pressed it onto the wax seal. He then rolled it up and handed it to the Sacred Warrior behind him, instructing, “Deliver this record to the Royal Capital of Gambia, to His Grace, Archbishop Lazarus.”

After the Sacred Warrior left the reception hall with the scroll, Duke York turned to Prince Edward with a fawning expression. “Your Highness, I have prepared a sumptuous luncheon for you. Shall we, perhaps, proceed to the banquet now?”

“I would like to invite Viscount Randell and Lady Judy to join us.”

The young prince secretly swallowed a mouthful of saliva. The York family’s cuisine was exquisite and delicious, much to his satisfaction.

“As you wish, Your Highness.” The fat Duke York openly swallowed a mouthful of his own.

Just then, the old steward with a full head of silver hair walked in, bowed, and said, “My Lady invites Viscount Randell and Lady Judy to meet at Rose Manor.”

Chapter 209: Afternoon

Afternoon, in the crystal conservatory of Rose Manor.

Sylvia sat leisurely in a wicker chair, lifted the exquisite silver coffee cup from the round table, and took a delicate sip. She quietly savored the bitter, aromatic flavor for a moment before turning to Victor. “Do you know why Prince Edward is visiting Black Fortress?”

Victor put down the silver spoon in his hand and sighed. “I never thought I could be compared to a prince of Gambis.”

“Very wise.”

Sylvia gave her lover an appreciative glance. Victor was only twenty-one years old, capable, with a powerful backer, a Silver-rank Wind Walk Archer, and the Viscount of a fief with real authority. In terms of his Moon Elf bloodline, Victor was still just a youth, yet he showed none of the shallow arrogance that comes with youthful success. Instead, he was more like a mature, experienced, and wise lord. This was precisely what Sylvia admired, and also what she found puzzling.

What Sylvia didn’t know was that Victor had lived two lives, and his combined age was much greater than hers. Of course, he possessed a youthful recklessness, but it wasn’t worth showing. For instance, at this very moment, he was thinking: How could they compare a transmigrator like me to a little brat?!

No being could fathom the thoughts of another. Sylvia did not understand Victor’s true thoughts, but she didn’t want him to sell himself short and lose the opportunity for further advancement. To maintain Victor’s sharp edge, and to see her own long-cherished wish fulfilled, Sylvia added, “That is the fact of the matter. Edward and Soren are indeed here as hostages!”

“Is it because of you?”

Victor tasted the hot coffee with Snow Sugar and milk. The sweetness was just right, and the rich, smooth taste was very satisfying to him. He offered to mix a cup for Sylvia as well, but she declined.

“I like the original taste of coffee.”

Sylvia smiled enchantingly. “Don’t think of me as too powerful. I’m just one person, with two hands. I have enemies I cannot defeat, and I also need delicious food, beautiful clothes, a comfortable bed, and a thoughtful lover.” As she spoke, a slender, fair foot reached out flirtatiously from under the round table. Victor’s heart fluttered, and just as he was about to grasp it and play with it, he caught only empty air. Seeing Victor’s flustered state after being teased, Sylvia giggled for a moment before continuing, “A Gold Knight’s martial power is limited. We can be injured, or even killed, when facing a powerful beastman chief. We can even be helpless against a weaker opponent. There’s an amusing story in the history of Knights, from back when the Randt Empire was at its peak. A small mountain village was being attacked by a savage badger. As it happened, a Gold Knight of the Empire was passing by. At the villagers’ request, he decided to get rid of the ferocious animal. In the end, he spent two months on it and got nowhere. Finally, he had to mobilize three thousand soldiers to surround the mountain forest just to catch the savage badger. That Gold Knight didn’t kill the cunning creature; instead, he brought it to the imperial capital and left behind a maxim. Do you know who he was?”

“‘When you are at your wit’s end, you still have your vassals!’ The third Emperor of the Randt Empire, Dalan Neowist!”

“Correct! This maxim is considered a classic by lords. It admonishes us to respect our vassals, and that a Gold Knight’s influence is far more important than their martial strength!”

Sylvia nodded slightly and continued, “Not long after I stepped into the Pinnacle realm, Ryan once paid a secret visit to our York family. He and the old Duke of the previous generation, Enbise’s grandfather, reached a secret agreement. Gambis had long been shouldering Dodor’s war losses, and its population had reached an unsustainable level. To alleviate internal conflicts, the Auguste family devised a plan to annex the Dodor Kingdom. Ryan knew I was a fire-element Gold Knight and was aware that the York family would inevitably expand. He requested that the old Duke and I keep my promotion a secret, because the opportune moment to implement the annexation plan would only come when the Sassans were bogged down by the beastmen. Ryan promised to give our York family three times the territory. In the end, we agreed.”

This secret history between Gambis and the York family fanned the flames of Victor’s curiosity. He asked with great interest, “Why keep your promotion a secret? Was it a backup plan?”

“That’s only part of it. The most important reason was my influence.”

Sylvia sighed. “The old Duke was old and frail, and he passed away less than two years later. I took over the family just as the Forest Centaurs began their migration. Ryan led the kingdom’s army westward to guard against the Forest Centaurs attacking Gambis. It was at this time that the Battle of Whitewater Fortress occurred. All eleven of the Sasan Empire’s Pinnacle Knights were mobilized in a massive invasion of Dodor, and Whitewater Fortress was in grave danger. If Whitewater Fortress fell, Dodor was finished. With Ryan tied up, Marquess Golan and I had no choice but to go and support the Dodor Kingdom.”

At this point, Sylvia fell into deep thought for a long while before continuing, “Darling, I’ve never believed the Sassans could unite the human kingdoms. The Sasan Empire was forcibly cobbled together by the Radiant Knights. Not only do they have to defend against the beastmen of the Northern Wildlands, but they are also rife with internal conflicts. For an empire, it’s not always ‘the more Pinnacle Knights, the better.’ The Sasan imperial family has only three Pinnacle Knights; the other eight Highnesses each have their own ideas. But, incredibly, at that critical moment, they actually reached a consensus! It was something that should have been almost impossible, yet it happened.”

“And then?” Victor pressed on, his eyes shining.

Sylvia shot him a sultry glance and said peevishly, “What else could have happened? Nowadays, life-and-death duels between Gold Knights are rare. Under the witness of the Church, we engaged in one-on-one matches. I defeated three Pinnacle Knights in a row, making the Sassans bow their heads in submission. The Gold Knights no longer participated in the Battle of Whitewater Fortress, Whitewater Fortress was saved, and my identity as a Spirit Knight also became known.”

“A glorious military achievement! I can just imagine how the lords sang praises of your great name. And then, you gained enormous influence,” Victor praised, shaking his head in admiration.

“What’s the use of a great name? The secret agreement between the Auguste family and us was exposed before it even began.”

Sylvia didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She said helplessly, “It’s true my influence became enormous, but it was precisely that influence that led to everything that followed.”

“The Dodor people knew I was a Spirit Knight but had kept it secret, so of course they understood Gambis’s intentions. On one hand, they tried to curry favor with me and build up my reputation; on the other, they desperately tried to win over the Naville people. Out of apprehension, and also to gain benefits from both sides, those poor devils from Naville sided with Dodor. Ryan’s plan to move north was thus shelved. Just as Gambis was adjusting its diplomatic strategy, the thing the Auguste family feared most happened.”

“The King of Dodor sent people to publicize my name throughout Gambis. Our family’s vassal lords were overjoyed, and our neighbors grew restless. Many small families flocked to pledge their allegiance, and the momentum grew and grew until it was almost out of control. This caused unease in another major family in the east, and with their push, Ryan began to work on stabilizing the eastern region. You know what happened after that.”

Victor nodded silently. After that, Ryan died in battle, the political situation in Gambis fractured, it lost the ability to launch a northern campaign, and the York family undertook its Westward Migration to the Centaur Hills, trapped in a corner with its accumulated wealth exhausted.

Victor noticed that Sylvia’s tone was a bit melancholic, yet also resentful. He couldn’t help but ask, “You seem to hold some resentment? Why didn’t you control the situation back then?”

“Control it? Why would I control it? The secret agreement was already void. What reason did I have to refuse the allegiance of other small families?” Sylvia shook her head with a light laugh and said, “As King, Ryan had to maintain the authority of the royal family. As the leader of the York family, I had to protect my family’s interests. Darling, while we lead our families, our family members are also pushing us. This is an inherent characteristic of the vassalage system.”

“Ryan did come to see me. He laid out the dire consequences and made promises, but in essence, he still wanted to forcibly dismember our York family. In that situation, there was no trust to be spoken of. Hmph! Don’t be fooled by the fact that Neowist is a Legendary Knight in a Savage state; his chances of winning in a fight against me were less than thirty percent. But at the time, I could only choose to stand by and do nothing,” Sylvia said proudly.

Victor stirred the coffee in his cup with the silver spoon and said in a low voice, “The Sassans launching the Battle of Whitewater Fortress is a suspicious point!”

“Yes.” Sylvia nodded. “After Ryan’s death, I realized that there is a figure within the Sasan Empire who orchestrated all of this. He, or they, have an extremely powerful intelligence network. Everyone, including me, was played by them. I thought for three days before deciding on the Westward Migration to the Centaur Hills. Although this place is remote, it allows me to watch the situation unfold from the sidelines, without unwittingly becoming someone else’s pawn.”

Sylvia glanced at Victor and added, “I told you about the rumors of the Sassans proposing to Roland. Austin’s invasion of Randell Fief is most likely related to this matter as well. The Dodor people are getting anxious, so it’s inevitable they’d struggle a bit.”

Then, after discussing her judgment with Victor in detail, Sylvia smiled. “The Dodor people used Duke Erickson as a front to show goodwill to me. They also tried to buy off our York family with the stone mines in the north. If you had been killed by Austin, it would have fit perfectly into their scheme to win me over. Unfortunately for them, they didn’t expect you to be a Silver-rank Wind Walk Archer, and they certainly didn’t know that we have no need for stone mines at all right now.”

Victor shook his head with a laugh. “So, I’ve been dragged into this?”

“Darling, congratulations. You’ve made it onto the chessboard. Ordinary minor lords don’t even have the right to know the inside story.” Sylvia covered her mouth with a light laugh, her azure eyes glinting with an inscrutable light as she whispered, “This game has only just begun. It’s still anyone’s guess who will win or lose.”

Chapter 210: Roland’s Sword

Victor tapped his fingers lightly on the tabletop, pondering the crux of the matter. He didn’t believe the Sasan Empire possessed such formidable intelligence capabilities to control this series of events. There were no cell phones or listening devices here, so how could the Sassans transmit intelligence without being detected? However, supernatural powers existed in this world. If the Sasan Empire had Wizards, it would be plausible. Although the Sasan Empire was controlled by the Paladin Faction, the Paladins’ scruples were clearly weaker than a priest’s. It wasn’t impossible for them to use Wizards and then eliminate them afterward.

At this thought, Victor recalled the Wizard who had tried to murder the little Baron, and Raymond Peter. He had originally planned to have the old spy Barol investigate the matter secretly upon his return. But Sylvia had taught him a lesson: the more you investigate, the deeper the trap you might fall into. It was better to counter all changes by remaining unchanged, focus on developing his own strength, and just crush any opposition when the time came.

Victor composed himself, a confident smile playing on his lips. “Darling,” he asked, “what do you need me to do?”

Sylvia nodded. “I’ve told you so much to make you understand that the royal family needs us, and we also need Gambis’s support. The royal family is sending Prince Edward as a hostage. This is their sincerity.”

“I never would have thought Queen Catherine had such nerve!” Victor exclaimed.

Sylvia pursed her lips. “Catherine couldn’t possibly have arranged for Soren to come as a hostage, and Williams doesn’t have the power to make Edward and Soren travel together. This is clearly Roland’s style. She’s always so unpredictable.”

“Victor, the royal family has shown their sincerity. Now it’s our turn.”

Victor spread his hands. “I’ll go to the Royal Capital to face the Senate’s inquiry.”

Sylvia stared at Victor, saying with exaggerated drama, “What kind of sincerity is that? You killed Austin, and you’ve taken Judy for yourself. You were supposed to face the inquiry anyway.”

Victor nearly choked. What was clearly a heroic rescue was being twisted by Sylvia into the act of a villain who abuses his power over others. Yet, faced with Sylvia’s gaze, which seemed to hold both reproach and resentment, Victor knew she was only pretending but still felt a pang of guilt. He could only say sullenly, “Then what should I do? Hand over the technology for the new agropastoral system and the stream reservoirs?” He shook his head. “Even if I told them, it would be useless. The other fiefs haven’t experienced the Ant-man plague. Vicious beasts still roam the wilds. It would take them seven or eight years before they even have the conditions to implement the new agropastoral system.”

Sylvia nodded but didn’t continue on that topic. Instead, she said, “Marquess Golan sent a letter with Viscount Squire Eskri. He’s preparing to exchange Baron Eskri’s fief for another piece of land, and we will take over the barony. However, I need to pay one hundred and fifty thousand Gold Sol.”

Victor was moved. Baron Eskri’s territory was only three thousand square kilometers, but it separated the Randell Fief from Duke York’s duchy. It was a strategic point for the royal family to contain the York family, and it would particularly hinder the man-made channel project. Sylvia had been secretly scheming to get Baron Eskri’s fief, and now, unexpectedly, the royal family was giving it up voluntarily.

“Do you understand now? This is the Auguste family’s sincerity. Golan is using his own territory to resettle Baron Eskri and giving the barony to me. He hopes I won’t make things difficult for Prince Edward.” Sylvia placed her hand on Victor’s. “I won’t hold Prince Edward hostage, nor will I dispatch knights to escort you to the Royal Capital. Your safety will be entirely in the hands of the Auguste family. Will you be afraid?”

Victor took her soft hand in his. “What’s there to be afraid of?” he said lightly.

Sylvia let her lover caress her slender hand, a broad smile on her face. “Actually, the more nervous I am for you, the more danger you’re in. Following the kingdom’s procedures to the letter will actually make those with ill intentions give up. In the current situation, the royal family has more reason than anyone to ensure your safety.”

“That’s true,” Victor nodded.

“Prince Edward will return to the Royal Capital after staying in the Centaur Hills for a month, but Soren will remain in his fief until you return.” Sylvia let out a long breath and said admiringly, “Roland’s personality is a bit odd, but her unbridled creativity is just like her swordsmanship—truly stunning. With this one move, she struck at the heart of the problem. The political situation in Gambis is now stable.”

Seeing Victor’s confusion, Sylvia explained, “The Church recognizes the right of succession by blood-kin, while the lords practice primogeniture. By the rules, Roland is the first in line for the throne, Williams is second, and Williams’s eldest son is third. As the late King’s illegitimate second son, Edward’s claim comes after Roland and the Williams family. However, Roland wants Edward to inherit the throne. She’s holding onto the status of Crown Prince, neither ascending the throne as queen nor allowing Williams to take it, and that’s what has caused the political turmoil.”

“Why would the Princess Royal do that?” Victor asked curiously.

Sylvia shook her head and sighed. “The outstanding descendants of the Auguste family never play by the rules. Ryan knew very well that Roland had no interest in the throne. He stated multiple times in private that he wanted to make Edward the Crown Prince and sought many people’s opinions. Considering the lifespan and bloodline of a Gold Knight, Williams didn’t explicitly object. Unexpectedly, Ryan died young before Edward had a chance to mature. Williams, wanting to save the situation, naturally had to contend for the throne. But Roland is insisting on honoring Ryan’s last wish.”

“By making Edward a hostage, Roland has shown her sincerity. Golan’s exchange of Eskri’s fief is also a show of support for Edward. Faced with the concessions from both His Highness and Her Highness, how could I possibly detain Edward? The declared stances of Gambis’s three Pinnacle Knights are enough to push Edward onto the throne!”

“I see.” Victor nodded, but couldn’t help asking, “So Grand Duke Williams is just out? Won’t the powers behind him push back? Especially the Church…”

“That’s what makes Roland so formidable.”

Sylvia said, “Without the threat of the Ant-men, the Church would have been happy to support Williams, but now they just want stability. The incident with Austin made Golan realize that instability in the royal family invites internal and external threats. That’s why he decided to support Edward and, in the process, uphold the royal family’s authority. And Soren accompanying Edward on his tour of the Centaur Hills represents the extension of Williams’s influence to Edward’s side. This means Williams will become Edward’s guardian, the Regent of Gambis. Clearly, Williams has already agreed to it.”

Princess Royal Roland, grasping the crux of the problem and skillfully using the crisis of trust and the influence of the Gold Knights, had resolved the predicament in Gambis with a single, simple move. This sharp insight and understated method left Victor full of admiration.

Sylvia held Victor’s hand and said tenderly, “Darling, that one hundred and fifty thousand Gold Sol, you’ll be the one to pay it.”

One hundred and fifty thousand Gold Sol was a huge sum. Victor currently only had one hundred and twenty thousand in cash, but considering the three thousand square kilometers of territory, he quickly calculated his income and gritted his teeth. “Fine! I’ll pay!” However, in the next second, Sylvia sent him crashing back to earth.

“The fief is mine.”

Seeing Victor’s dumbfounded expression, Sylvia pulled her hand back and said coolly, “You can give Judy a manor, but you can’t give me a fief?”

Victor was speechless. Although Sylvia was bantering with him, she was, in fact, protecting the interests of the York family. Eskri’s fief, while not large, was completely adjacent to Bryat’s fief. Only by obtaining this land could the York family oversee the affairs of Bryat’s fief and prevent Victor from having absolute control.

Facing Sylvia’s teasing, semi-smiling gaze, Victor could only grit his teeth and say, “Fine! I’ll give it to you.”

Sylvia gave Victor a flirtatious glance, her red lips parting. “That’s more like it. And it makes securing you a castle and one thousand square kilometers of territory in the north worthwhile.”

Victor was overjoyed. “You renegotiated the sphere of influence in the north with Dodor? And got another one thousand square kilometers of land?”

Sylvia nodded slightly, then stood up and sat on Victor’s lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You’re about to leave for the Royal Capital,” she whispered alluringly, “and you’ll be gone for months…”

——————————

The next morning.

Sylvia stood quietly on a tower of the Black Fortress, watching Victor’s convoy head east.

Trisley, seeing the distant look in Sylvia’s eyes, said from the side, “Should I escort Victor secretly?”

Sylvia shook her head gently. Trisley pressed, “You finally found a Wind Walk Archer who can manifest the void element. Aren’t you worried something might happen to him?”

The continuation of the Gold Knight bloodline was a major family affair. Even if the hope was slim, the upper echelons of the York family had to try. For political purposes, letting Victor go to the Royal Capital as an independent lord was, in the eyes of the York family’s Great Knights, extremely unwise. They had all demanded to accompany Victor, but Sylvia had gone against the consensus and insisted on this course of action. Trisley knew Sylvia’s wish very well, which was why she couldn’t understand her decision.

Sylvia blinked, her expression innocent. “Victor isn’t our vassal lord. The trouble he’s gotten into is, of course, his to solve. Or have you taken a fancy to Victor? In that case, you can only be his lover.”

Trisley’s beautiful face fell. Her relationship with Sylvia was very close, and she was not at all intimidated by the Gold Knight’s authority.

Seeing her close friend’s unhappy face, Sylvia surrendered. “Alright! Alright! I’ll tell you.”

“What is the nature of wind?”

Trisley looked quizzically at the blue light materializing in Sylvia’s hand and ventured, “Speed? Agility? Perception? Sharpness?”

Sylvia let the void wind element in her hand dissipate. A miniature hurricane suddenly erupted, sending both of their long hair flying wildly.

“We Knights can manifest the void wind element, but we cannot control the wind! Victor doesn’t have an Elemental Node, but he can control a breeze, and he can also manifest the wind element. In other words, he must first gather the wind before he can manifest the wind element.” Sylvia tucked her hair behind her ear. “What you just described are the characteristics of the void wind element, not the nature of wind.”

“The nature of wind is freedom!”

“‘Freedom…’” Trisley murmured, lost in thought.

“Yes!” Sylvia said, her tone confident and fervent. “Victor awakened his Wind Walk talent when he faced a crisis, which is very similar to a Knight’s Trial of Life and Death. But don’t forget, he has always been pursuing independence, which happens to align perfectly with the nature of wind!”

“I suspect that Sword Saint Draven’s bloodline mutated under the pressure of battle and a life of freedom. The other Nobles with elven bloodline have all been kept like pets. Of course they could never grasp the true meaning of wind! That’s why I must maintain Victor’s status as an independent lord, let him enjoy freedom, and let him face challenges alone.”

Sylvia seemed slightly excited. Trisley couldn’t help but ask, “What if he dies along the way?”

Sylvia smiled without a word, her gaze following the distant convoy. In her limpid eyes, there seemed to be affection, yet also a touch of indifference.

Chapter 211: Weyrich’s Enthusiasm

Baron Garrott stared at the Nightblade Panther on the floor tiles, hardly able to believe his eyes.

The savage, bloodthirsty beast was two full sizes larger than others of its kind. Its thick limbs concealed claws as sharp as razors, and snowy white, chilling fangs extended from its mouth, at least ten centimeters long. Its appearance alone proclaimed it a fearsome dire animal, yet now it was nothing more than a cold corpse.

The Nightblade Panther was twisted into a heap, draped over the floor like a tattered sack. Its dark fur was matted with dried blood, and it was covered in dozens of wounds, large and small. The gashes were not very deep, revealing bright red muscle beneath. Like bloody maws, they gnawed at Garrott’s heart, causing him unbearable pain.

“Its bones are shattered. It must have been a Sacred Warrior with a mace. Too many wounds, even on its rump. There’s not a single good patch of hide left.” A stocky, middle-aged man flipped the Nightblade Panther over and shook his head in regret.

“Vidal, stop spouting useless nonsense!” Baron Garrott shot his steward a dissatisfied glare before asking with renewed hope, “Tell me, how much is this thing still worth?”

Vidal stood up, scratching his head with a blood-stained hand, and said in a gruff voice, “Only four ribs and two leg bones are intact. They can be ground into two bone daggers and four bone spearheads, worth three hundred Gold Sols. The tendons are fine, five of them in total, worth five hundred Gold Sols. The hide is useless! At most, it can be made into a leather helmet, worth two hundred Gold Sols. The total won’t exceed one thousand Gold Sols.”

“What?! One thousand Gold Sols? A Ferocious Nightblade Panther that could sell for twenty thousand Gold Sols is now worth only one thousand? Vidal, have you drunk too much Purple Cane wine and miscalculated?” Garrott grabbed Vidal by the collar and roared.

Vidal, though seemingly crude, was actually shrewd. He loved his drink but rarely let it interfere with his duties. He was not only Garrott’s trusted steward but also a companion who had grown up with him. He possessed exquisite leatherworking skills and had dealt with merchants for years; he would not miscalculate something like this. After venting his frustration, Garrott sullenly released his steward’s collar.

Vidal wiped the spittle from his face and said, gloating slightly, “My lord, you still have to pay the Warhammer Mercenary Company two thousand Gold Sols for killing the Nightblade Panther.”

“You’re saying I’m going to lose a thousand Gold Sols?” Baron Garrott paced back and forth in a fury, shouting, “Those bastards ruined my plans! Tell them to get lost!”

“My lord, when you hired them, it was Father Miad who provided the guarantee,” Vidal reminded him.

The Kingdom of Naville had many mountains and little arable land. The soil was poor, but it was rich in minerals and wildlife. The people of Naville primarily subsisted on mining, hunting, and gathering medicinal herbs. They were fierce, barbaric, and belligerent. Most were illiterate and extremely unfriendly to outsiders.

The minor lords in the remote regions of Naville were both Nobles and mountain folk chiefs. They usually resided in the prosperous Royal Capital, leaving their fiefs in the care of their stewards. This was partly because life in the capital was far more comfortable, partly because they needed to be ready to defend against the beastmen of the Northern Wildlands, but most importantly, they would join the great lords in raiding the Sassans. It was because of this pervasive attitude, from top to bottom, that the people of Naville were untrustworthy and prone to robbery. Coupled with the inconvenient transportation, this place had long ago become a forbidden land for small caravans.

As Naville was a crucial barrier against the beastmen, the Church provided it with immense support, not only supplying nearly forty percent of the people’s daily necessities but also dispatching scholar-priests to help the lords of Naville manage their fiefs. In Baron Garrott’s fief, his steward Vidal was only responsible for collecting tribute and transporting the products to the Royal Capital for sale. Father Miad was the true administrator.

Garrott’s subjects lived by barter, trading beast hides, herbs, and minerals with Vidal for daily necessities. Many had never even seen a Copper Sol, but Baron Garrott needed money.

Life in the Royal Capital of Naville was incredibly extravagant. Every luxury was available, and the prices were astonishingly high. Baron Garrott not only had to purchase food and supplies for the miners in his fief but also had to cover the expenses of his family’s soldiers, and above all, maintain a dignified lifestyle for his wife and children. There was truly never enough money!

A few years ago, Father Miad had discovered an element crystal mine in the mountains. After informing Garrott, he organized the subjects to begin mining. Everything had been going smoothly until a few months ago, when two Nightblade Panthers in a Savage state moved into the vicinity and began attacking the miners, forcing the mine to be abandoned. When Garrott received the news, he had rushed over with his troops, eager to capture the two beasts.

Element crystals were rare, but their uses were limited; only Pinnacle Knights could truly utilize them. While top-grade element crystals were priceless, ordinary ones were usually processed and sold as gemstones. Garrott wasn’t particularly concerned about his element crystal mine. Before striking a top-grade vein, the mine would only generate a profit of two thousand Gold Sols per year. This sum was insignificant compared to the value of a dire animal.

The meat of a dire creature was almost impossible to cook and was inedible, but its bones could be crafted into excellent artifacts, its tendons were materials for military heavy crossbows, and its fur was worth a fortune. To Baron Garrott, the arrival of two Ferocious Nightblade Panthers in his fief was a windfall from the heavens, but hunting them would not be easy.

Dire beasts were fierce, cunning, and had keen Perception and incredible speed, with the Nightblade Panther being particularly renowned for its stealth. The people of Naville were all excellent hunters with rich experience and skills, but the only way to deal with a dire beast was to blockade, surround, and constrict its area of movement before sending in Knights to make the kill. This required a massive number of people. Garrott had mobilized all his men, but it still wasn’t enough, so he sent men to the border town of Gambis to recruit mercenaries.

Experienced mercenaries knew all about the character of Naville’s lords. Even with Garrott’s high offer, he couldn’t recruit anyone. In the end, it was Father Miad who stepped in to provide a guarantee, and only then did three mercenary companies accept the commission.

According to the agreement, each mercenary would receive a reward of forty Gold Sols, with compensation for injury or death set at fifty Gold Sols per person. If a mercenary company captured the prey, dead or alive, they would be rewarded with two thousand Gold Sols. Garrott’s calculations had been meticulous. These mercenaries would only earn their pay as cannon fodder; the two prizes would sooner or later fall into his hands. He never imagined that a mercenary company would actually kill one of the Nightblade Panthers and ruin it so thoroughly in the process.

Garrott could go back on his word with the mercenaries, but he didn’t dare offend Father Miad. Who else was feeding nearly half of his subjects and managing his fief for him?

Seeing that the reward money was unavoidable, Garrott asked painfully, “What about the other Nightblade Panther?”

Vidal replied, “Knight Horus pierced its eye. It’s completely intact.”

With twenty thousand Gold Sols secured, Garrott’s mood improved slightly. Only then did he remember to ask, “How did that Warhammer Mercenary Company kill the Nightblade Panther?”

“Last night, a Warhammer mercenary took off his armor, left the campfire, and stood inside the encirclement to act as bait. A clever beast is still a beast, and Nightblade Panthers are particularly driven by Bloodlust. It couldn’t overcome its instinct to kill and attacked the mercenary. But who would have thought that the mercenary was a Ferocious warrior? He grappled the Nightblade Panther directly. The others, including the Sacred Warrior, swarmed in and finished the beast off.” Vidal shook his head and praised with genuine admiration, “Truly fierce and brave! What a pity…”

Garrott couldn’t help but be moved. Due to differences in physical structure, a savage human was no match for a dire animal. For a human, possessed of wisdom and emotion, to overcome the fear of death and dare to fight a dire animal bare-handed—such courage was enough to make one’s blood boil.

“How is that Warrior?”

“During the fight, he shoved his hand right down the Nightblade Panther’s throat and grabbed its tongue, which is how he kept it from escaping. Luckily, Father Miad had cast his divine arts on him beforehand, so he didn’t die, but his hand is crippled.” Vidal pried open the Nightblade Panther’s mouth to show its tongue to Garrott.

Looking at the clearly elongated tongue, Garrott could imagine how frenzied and ferocious the beast must have been, and what kind of assault the mercenary had endured. He said with regret, “It’s truly a pity about a warrior like that. Give them the reward money!”

“My lord, should we have our men take the money back from them on the road?” Vidal made a meat-chopping gesture, his expression both sleazy and ruthless.

Baron Garrott glared at his steward and snapped, “A Warrior deserves respect! Give the money to the Warhammer Mercenary Company now, and send men to escort them back. I won’t have some blind fools ruining my reputation!”

“Yes!” Vidal’s expression turned respectful. He turned and walked out of the castle’s great hall.

Before long, Vidal returned. He said to Baron Garrott, “My lord, the commander of the Warhammer Mercenary Company refused the reward money. He requests an audience with you.”

“He refused the reward?” Garrott was greatly surprised. He thought for a moment, then shook his head. “If that Ferocious warrior wasn’t crippled, I might have taken them in. But now… heheh, I can’t afford to keep too many soldiers.”

“My lord, they didn’t say they wanted to pledge allegiance to us. They just said they want to discuss a business deal with you,” Vidal said with a strange look on his face.

A lowly mercenary company wanted to do business with him?!

Garrott’s first thought was to have them seized and given a sound whipping, but his gaze fell on the Nightblade Panther’s corpse on the floor. “Fine, let’s see them,” he said.

The spacious great hall, the elite guards, and the lord seated on his throne made Weyrich’s forehead and palms break out in a cold sweat.

As a merchant, Weyrich considered himself worldly, more so than most of his lord’s subjects, but the most noble person he had ever met was the Municipal Official in his hometown, a lordship. In truth, the vast majority of freemen could toil their entire lives without ever meeting a true Knight or a noble, let alone a lord. This was the fat Weyrich’s first time inside a castle, his first time having an audience with a lord, and he was about to discuss a business deal with the high and mighty My Lord.

The thought of business finally jolted the fat Weyrich’s mind, which had been frozen with nervousness. He bowed deeply and respectfully to Baron Garrott.

Garrott sat on his lord’s throne, looking down askance at the four people at the bottom of the steps. Three of them wore old leather armor. One man’s right hand was wrapped in fine linen bandages; he must be the Ferocious warrior who had grappled with the beast. The other man was dressed as a commoner. He was fat and bloated, his eyes darting about nervously. He looked nothing like a battle-hardened mercenary who lived on the edge of a blade, nor like a stoic, sturdy miner. Instead, he had the air of a merchant. This made Garrott’s curiosity about this mercenary company grow.

“Are you the commander of the Warhammer Mercenary Company?” Garrott asked the fat Weyrich.

“Your esteemed Lordship, I am a freemen merchant. This is Commander Iron Hammer of the Warhammer Mercenary Company,” Weyrich said humbly, gesturing toward Iron Hammer.

“Oh.” The Baron shifted his gaze to the stout and sturdy Iron Hammer and asked slowly, “I hear you refused the reward, just for a chance to see me?”

Iron Hammer stepped forward and bowed. “My Lord, the Warhammer Mercenary Company was hired as guards by Boss Weyrich. Boss Weyrich wishes to discuss a business deal with you.”

“A freemen merchant hired a mercenary company?”

Garrott sneered. “I don’t care what your relationship is. If you dare to play games with me, I’ll award each of you ten lashes and two years of hard labor. Now, state your purpose!”

The fat Weyrich’s lips trembled with fear. A commoner deceiving a lord was a serious crime. While not a capital offense, if the lord was in a bad mood, a subtle hint was all it would take for them to be skinned alive, and the resident priest would only turn a blind eye, at most making a mental note or issuing a warning. It was only natural for Weyrich to be afraid in the presence of a great man who could crush him with a wave of his hand. But in the face of profit, he had come to see life and death as trivial, and he was fearless.

If someone offered Weyrich one million Gold Sols for his life, he would certainly refuse. But if there was a deal to be made that could earn him ten thousand Gold Sols, Weyrich would dare to savagely stab a Nightblade Panther in the rump, and in fact, that’s exactly what he had done.

Weyrich and the Warhammer Mercenary Company had been on the road for nearly a year. In those dozen or so months, they had traveled almost three thousand five hundred kilometers, passing through forty-one mountain strongholds and twelve freemen camps. Their party had grown from the initial forty-some people to the current ninety-eight. They had experienced seventy-two battles, large and small, facing Gnolls, Goblins, Kobolds, and even dire beasts. Seventeen companions had died, including a merchant who had succumbed to illness along the way.

On their journey, the merchants constantly purchased mountain goods and sold their own wares. So far, they had earned over eight thousand Gold Sols. Weyrich calculated that his share would be five hundred forty-two Gold Sols, more than he had earned in five years in Black Fortress Town. Weyrich understood now that his old business had been a joke. Being a Traveling Merchant was his future.

Weyrich and the other merchants had discussed it and unanimously decided to switch from being settled merchants to traveling ones. They had even figured out a few tricks of the trade, like how mountain goods fetched better prices in large towns, that dealing with caravans was far less profitable than dealing with settled merchants, and that the more in-demand the goods, the lower the taxes. But most importantly, they had to stick close to the Warhammer Mercenary Company.

The merchants traveled and sold, sold and traveled, never stopping and never wanting to stop. But they finally paused at the border town between Gambis and Naville. Everyone looked toward Naville, salivating, caught in a dilemma. They had sold all their refined iron arrowheads, and only eight hundred pounds of raw sugar remained. They had little left to trade with the mountain folk of Naville.

In truth, these were not the main reasons for the caravan’s hesitation. The freemen merchants were originally from the Eastern Province of Gambis, and they had long heard tales of Naville.

The people of Naville would take by force what they could and wouldn’t buy it; what they couldn’t take, they would never sell. In Naville, the mountain folk were the lord’s subjects, and even if they had goods, they had to be traded through the lord.

Would a lord trade with freemen merchants? The question didn’t even need to be asked. If lords were willing to trade with freemen, why would everyone take long detours? Wasn’t it precisely because they feared having their goods confiscated?

The Warhammer Mercenary Company had been stopped in the border town for ten days with no intention of turning back. Weyrich sensed Iron Hammer’s predicament and quietly arranged a deep conversation with the three commanders. Iron Hammer told him that their goods were secretly supplied by a certain important person in the Randell Fief, and that person had a demand: if they wanted to continue receiving goods from Randell Fief, they had to trade for them with fire element crystals.

Weyrich was immediately frantic. He didn’t care about the source of the refined iron arrowheads and raw sugar—there were always people who engaged in profiteering at public expense. Back in Black Fortress Town, Weyrich had helped certain important figures sell off goods. What made Weyrich anxious was that if they had a route but no goods, the business would be finished.

It was obvious that Randell Fief and Naville were the two ends of this trade route, with the mountain strongholds in between as nodes. It was the goods from both ends that connected these nodes. Without the goods, the trade route would be dead. Because this route was so secret and difficult to travel, bulk goods like grain, wine, timber, and ore were impossible to transport. Only small, valuable goods like raw sugar, salt, and refined iron arrowheads could sustain it.

Losing the raw sugar and arrowheads from Randell Fief meant losing the entire trade route. But to save the trade route, they had to open a path through Naville. Weyrich was at a complete loss.

Fortunately, Father Miad from Baron Garrott’s fief came to the border town to recruit mercenaries to hunt the Ferocious Nightblade Panther. After a discussion, Iron Hammer decided to leave the new recruits and the merchants in the town while he led the mercenary company to accept this mission, hoping to establish a connection with Baron Garrott. Weyrich volunteered, strongly insisting on participating in the operation. He wanted to do everything in his power to make it happen.

When the mercenary company fought the Nightblade Panther, Weyrich had also rushed in and stabbed it twice. A powerful companion had paid the price of his left hand for this. All their sacrifices had been for this one chance to meet the lord.

The lord was right before him. The trade route was in his hands. Now, it was up to him to persuade him!

The fat Weyrich took a deep breath. The flab on his body stopped trembling, and his entire being surged with passion, his fighting spirit soaring.

Seeing the fiery look in Weyrich’s eyes, Garrott couldn’t help but shiver.

Chapter 212: You Can Scram!

“Honorable lord, I was originally a freeman merchant in Black Fortress Town. After the Centaur Hills suffered the Ant-man plague, I joined a few of my peers to form a caravan, hired the Warhammer Mercenary Company, and began traveling to sell our goods.” Seeing Baron Garrott’s interest, Weyrich’s confidence surged, and his explanation became even more energetic.

In an age without newspapers or the internet, the spread of information was limited and slow. Even common folk enjoyed hearing bards, caravans, mercenaries, and refugees tell stories of faraway lands, let alone a titled noble who needed to stay constantly informed of the situation in various regions.

Baron Garrott wasn’t interested in Weyrich’s trading experiences, but he was quite concerned with the scale of Black Fortress Town, the characteristics of the Ant-men, and the course and consequences of the Ant-man plague, personally asking many questions.

Weyrich was a shrewd man. He had never intended to reveal the caravan’s relationship with the Mountain folk. Since the Baron was completely uninterested in the core secrets of his trade route, he was happy to focus on describing the local customs of Gambis, the prices of specialty goods in different places, and the situation with the Ant-man plague and the Centaur Hills.

In truth, Weyrich’s inside knowledge was very limited. But as a worldly and sophisticated merchant, reading people was his instinct and glibness was his forte. He seamlessly took control of the conversation’s rhythm, not only vividly recounting the details Baron Garrott was concerned about but also subtly boasting about the freemen caravan’s achievements and potential. Even Iron Hammer, who had personally experienced the Ant-man plague, was captivated by Weyrich’s story. The others listened with great relish, and Baron Garrott even cracked a smile from time to time. Before long, the atmosphere in the great hall had relaxed considerably.

After Weyrich had talked his throat dry satisfying the Naville men’s curiosity, Baron Garrott finally spoke. “What business do you intend to do in my territory?”

Weyrich’s eyes darted around. He was about to show off his silver tongue again, but the sight of the Baron’s boot resting on the Nightblade Panther’s head sent a jolt through him. He answered honestly, “We wish to purchase fire element crystals.”

Top-tier element crystals could be given as gifts to Pinnacle Knights. A minor lord like Garrott wouldn’t even be qualified to curry favor with a Pinnacle Knight, even if he did dig one up. However, a high noble would purchase his crystal for fifty thousand Gold Sol or provide support in other ways. Ordinary element crystals could also fetch a good price after being cut and polished by a master, whereas raw element crystals were worth less than raw gemstones. But regardless of the price, element crystals circulated only within noble circles. A freeman merchant had no business knowing about such things.

Weyrich’s specific request to buy fire element crystals surprised Garrott somewhat. He suspected this freeman merchant from the Centaur Hills was acting on the orders of some noble, because the only Knight who could use fire element crystals was the Queen of Roses herself. But would the Queen of Roses be short on fire element crystals?

With this doubt in mind, Garrott gave his steward, Vidal, a look and instructed, “Go and bring the fire element crystals.”

Vidal turned and walked towards the storeroom. A moment later, he placed a box in front of Weyrich, opened it, and said, “These are all fire element crystals.”

There were a total of seventeen crystals in the box, some large, some small. The largest was about the size of a palm, while the smallest was no bigger than a fingernail. Their colors also varied. Weyrich and Iron Hammer looked at each other, both completely bewildered.

Seeing this, Baron Garrott understood. It must be some “nobody” from the Centaur Hills who wanted to commission a set of fire element crystal jewelry to please the Queen of Roses. Unfortunately, this “nobody” knew nothing about fire element crystals; he probably didn’t even have his own caravan, which was why he had hired a freeman merchant to procure them.

A character who didn’t even dare to announce his name could only be a nobody. Garrott lost interest in probing further, but his desire to make money was piqued. He decided to fleece them mercilessly. “Fire element crystals are extremely precious. One hundred Gold Sol per ounce. There are about two hundred ounces here, so you’ll pay eighteen thousand Gold Sol.”

If he took these fire element crystals to the Royal Capital of Naville, they would be worth about six hundred Gold Sol. Garrott’s outrageous demand of eighteen thousand Gold Sol was a sky-high price, intended to bleed that “nobody” dry.

What did eighteen thousand Gold Sol mean? A family of seven subjects, after a year of hard work, could earn about twenty or thirty Gold Sol. A year of business in Black Fortress Town earned Weyrich a profit of just over one hundred Gold Sol. The War Bear Mercenary Company fought and bled, and their total income from start to finish wasn’t even ten thousand Gold Sol. A huge sum like this was enough to make Iron Hammer consider taking a risk.

As a newly appointed vassal, Iron Hammer didn’t understand channels or terminals. His understanding of the mission was simple: make more money, and get more people to join. So far, everything had gone smoothly. Fifty-odd Mountain folk, men and women, had been forced or had voluntarily joined the mercenary company. They had also earned eight thousand Gold Sol and dozens of white crystals. Adding the ten Purple Gold Coins from Victor, the Warhammer Mercenary Company possessed a fortune of over thirty thousand Gold Sol.

The Warhammer Mercenary Company could afford eighteen thousand Gold Sol, but Iron Hammer knew all too well the consequences of handing over the money.

Neither Iron Hammer nor Weyrich knew the market price of fire element crystals, nor could they even tell if they were real. Fortunately, Weyrich knew the characteristics of rubies and garnets; he could confirm that these crystals were not traditional gemstones. And Iron Hammer knew the disposition of Naville’s lords all too well, for he was a Naville Mountain folk by birth.

In Iron Hammer’s view, it was inevitable that Baron Garrott would make an outrageous demand. If they simply paid up, the real trouble would have just begun. In Naville, Mountain folk from different fortified villages would fight to the death over a few bags of salt, a few carts of grain, or a few women. How could they let a fat sheep swimming in money go? Even if Baron Garrott let them leave, the Mountain folk in the Baron’s domain would come out to rob them. Besides, spending eighteen thousand Gold Sol on a dozen-plus crystals of dubious authenticity? You’d have to have your head stuck up a bull’s backside and filled with its dung! Right now, Iron Hammer only wanted to do things according to the rules of Naville: he was going to rob the crystals!

During his time with the War Bear Mercenary Company, Iron Hammer had fought alongside the knights of Dodor many times. His reverence for knights was far less than that of a freeman merchant. Traveling with Bull on this journey, he could vaguely sense Victor’s unfathomable power, a power that a small lord like Baron Garrott could never hope to match.

Knights were indeed powerful, but even they would have to kneel before ten Bulls! I am strong, and you are weak. It would be an insult to Naville tradition not to rob you. However, the fact that Iron Hammer had survived this long proved he was no reckless fool.

Anyway, Baron Garrott and his knights have to return to the Royal Capital eventually. It won’t be too late to make a move after they’ve left. I just don’t know if they’ll take the crystals with them. Maybe I should have Ash Falcon keep an eye on them…

“I won’t pay a single copper coin!”

“What did you say?!” Baron Garrott glared at Weyrich.

Weyrich didn’t know about fire element crystals, but he knew the Baron was treating him like a fat sheep to be fleeced. As a merchant, he could lose his head or spill his blood, but he absolutely could not let himself be fleeced! While Iron Hammer was plotting a robbery, Weyrich was plotting how to buy low and sell high.

Staring into the Baron’s murderous gaze, Weyrich smiled fawningly. “Honorable lord, I have a better proposal, one that is sure to satisfy you!”

Weyrich took a coarse flax sack from Bull’s hands, pulled out a sealed clay jar, and handed it to Steward Vidal. At Weyrich’s signal, Vidal used a small knife to pry open the wooden stopper, looked at the contents, and sniffed. “What is this?” he asked, bewildered.

“This is… uh… Purple Sugar! Yes! It’s Purple Sugar! A specialty of the Centaur Hills.” Weyrich picked up a square of raw sugar, popped it into his mouth, and said, “It’s incredibly sweet!”

Vidal, unaware that Weyrich had just given raw sugar a fancy new name, also picked up a piece of “Purple Sugar” and put it in his mouth. His entire expression relaxed. Seeing his steward’s face light up as he ate piece after piece, Baron Garrott quickly beckoned him over.

The sugar jar was placed on the table. The Baron saw the small purple squares inside and smelled a faint, fresh aroma. He frowned and asked, “What does it taste like?”

Vidal unceremoniously grabbed another two pieces. “Mmm… very sweet… a bit like honey…” he said as he chewed.

Baron Garrott would never eat something of unknown origin. He turned his gaze to Weyrich, who quickly said, “Honorable lord, both Purple Sugar and Purple Cane wine are made from the Purple Cane of the Centaur Hills. I swear on my life, it is absolutely edible!”

“My lord, Purple Sugar is sweet and fragrant, even tastier than honey. If sealed in a container, Purple Sugar can be stored for more than three years without spoiling. It can be eaten directly, dissolved in water to drink, added to cream, and if you brush some on meat when grilling, it makes the meat exceptionally delicious…”

Weyrich began to list the many benefits of Purple Sugar. When he mentioned that it didn’t spoil, Garrott was tempted.

The Giantstone Mountains in northern Naville were rich in mineral resources, serving as the main source of refined iron and iron ore for the human kingdoms. Before the Boreans developed the Seven Great Islands, it was also the primary production area for adamantine mines. Even now, there were still twelve adamantine mines and two mithril ore veins in the Giantstone Mountains. And north of the mountains lay the Northern Wildlands, overrun with beastmen.

Beastmen and monsters were intelligent races that also used weapons. Kobolds were the best miners, and goblins could forge weapons and armor. The beastmen coveted the mineral resources here, and with the goblins and kobolds reproducing too quickly, powerful beastmen clans would drive countless goblins and kobolds to attack the Giantstone Mountains every few years. Human scholars called this the Beast Tide.

To defend against the beastmen, the Randt Empire and the Church had jointly built the Giantstone Fortress chain eight hundred years ago. Now, the Kingdom of Naville shouldered the responsibility of guarding it. When a Beast Tide came, the Giantstone Fortress would be besieged for a long time. Coupled with the treacherous mountain roads, resupplying was difficult. The people of Naville had a great demand for easily stored food and were very sensitive to food preservation techniques.

The Naville people were the first to discover that honey and sweet fruits could quickly restore a soldier’s stamina. However, honey was a luxury, and fruit rotted easily. The people of Naville had tried to make wine with their local green cherry-plums, but it was too sour to drink. Nevertheless, they did invent “fruit-meat” and candied green cherry-plums. The so-called “fruit-meat” involved preserving layers of green cherry-plums and meat in large barrels, making the meat easier to store. Although it tasted awful, it didn’t require drinking large amounts of water like salted meat did. As for the candied green cherry-plums, they were a world-famous delicacy that only nobles could enjoy.

At this point, Baron Garrott couldn’t be bothered about whether the Purple Sugar was poisonous. He tasted a a piece, and a clean, sweet flavor instantly bloomed on his taste buds. It wasn’t cloyingly sweet like honey and had a fresh fragrance; the taste was excellent.

Garrott asked nonchalantly, “What’s the price of Purple Sugar in the Centaur Hills?”

Weyrich answered without hesitation, “Thirty-two copper coins per pound! A little more expensive than salt.” He had deliberately added five copper coins to the price.

“How much do you have?”

“Eight hundred pounds.” Weyrich hesitated for a moment but still answered honestly.

“Hmph!” Garrott sneered. “With eight hundred pounds of Purple Sugar, you think you can trade for eighteen thousand Gold Sol worth of element crystals? Perhaps my whip can sober you up.”

“Honorable lord, I have another gift I wish to present to you.” Weyrich bowed deeply and took another jar from the sack.

“What’s this now?” Steward Vidal asked curiously.

Weyrich took a purple fruit from the jar, popped it in his mouth, and said, “This is candied fruit preserved with raw Purple Sugar.”

Vidal unceremoniously grabbed a handful and stuffed them into his mouth. “Mmm, delicious! Better than candied green cherry-plums!”

“You old dog! Have you ever even eaten candied green cherry-plums?” Baron Garrott snatched the jar away.

Vidal wiped his mouth, grinning. “I have! Three years ago.”

“My lord, during the Season of Wind, we used green cherry-plums from Gambis and Purple Sugar to make this candied fruit. Of course, the quality and size of the plums from Gambis can’t compare to those from Naville…” Seeing Garrott carefully examining the candied fruit in his hand, Weyrich quickly explained, “It looks a bit rough, but the taste is definitely no worse than plums preserved in honey!”

Honey-preserved green cherry-plums were amber-colored, as translucent as gems. But this candied fruit was so purple it was almost black, with a glossy sheen on the surface. Based on appearance alone, an ordinary noble certainly wouldn’t eat it, but that didn’t include the lords of Naville. Baron Garrott ate one. The sweet and sour taste was indeed unique, and he liked it very much.

Weyrich seized the opportunity. “Honorable lord, Naville’s candied green cherry-plums sell for one hundred forty copper coins a piece in the Eastern Province, and three hundred copper coins a piece in the Centaur Hills.”

Baron Garrott’s eye twitched. The selling price of candied green cherry-plums in Naville’s Royal Capital was thirty-two copper coins per piece.

“Naville’s honey sells for six Gold Sol per pound in the Eastern Province, and ten Gold Sol per pound in the Centaur Hills!”

An even sharper pain stabbed Baron Garrott’s heart. The price he sold his honey to the merchant associations for was one Gold Sol per pound.

“My Lord, Naville’s green cherry-plums grow all over the mountains. Because the fruit is too sour and honey is too scarce, many of them rot away uselessly every year.”

Weyrich said eagerly, “One pound of honey can preserve two pounds of green cherry-plums, which is about one hundred fifty pieces. One pound of Purple Sugar can preserve about one hundred pieces. And the price of Purple Sugar is far lower than honey.”

“I understand what you mean!” Baron Garrott shook his head and sighed. “A pity. It’s too cheap!”

“The lord is wise!” Weyrich began to act as if he were the Baron’s retainer, bowing and scraping as he said, “How could such cheap Purple Sugar be served to noble lords!”

“And so, I have another gift!”

Weyrich carefully lifted a silver box with gold trim out of the sack. His solemn manner made Steward Vidal’s movements cautious as he accepted the box.

Baron Garrott stared at the fine, snow-white crystals in the box and asked curiously, “What is this?”

“Snow Sugar! Also called Frost Sugar!” Weyrich said with a grave expression. “My lord may not have heard of it, because this is something that is only ever gifted, never sold!”

“Snow Sugar is also a specialty of the Centaur Hills, but the noble York family never sells it. Only the great nobles of Gambis are worthy of receiving the York family’s gift! However, some caravans will try to acquire Snow Sugar in Black Fortress Town for thirty Gold Sol per pound! Of course, they can’t buy any no matter how high a price they offer.”

“My lord, please sprinkle a little Snow Sugar on the candied fruit and take another look.”

As the Snow Sugar fell onto the candied fruit, it was immediately caught by the glossy syrup. The fine, snow-white crystals glittered under the light, and the dark purple fruit looked as if it was draped in a magnificent cloak, dazzling and eye-catching, making one’s mouth water and unable to look away.

Baron Garrott couldn’t resist eating another one. He felt that the taste this time was more than ten times better than the last. Seeing the Baron’s look of enjoyment, Weyrich knew the time was ripe. He spoke up, “Honorable lord, I don’t have eighteen thousand Gold Sol. As long as you give me the fire element crystals, I can provide you with a continuous source of wealth!”

“And then?” Baron Garrott smiled.

“And then, I will be responsible for delivering the raw sugar and Snow Sugar, while your people will be responsible for pickling the new candied fruit. I will purchase your candied fruit at a price of twenty copper coins per piece.”

“Honeyed green cherry-plums sell for three hundred copper coins a piece in the Centaur Hills, and you’re only offering twenty copper coins for this Snow Sugar version?” Garrott sneered.

“My lord, after one trip as a traveling merchant, I’ve learned what business truly is. The price I’m offering is a bit low, but smoothing things over with officials, paying taxes everywhere, and covering transport costs are all part of the investment.” Weyrich glanced furtively at the Baron and said in a low voice, “And this is on account of you being able to provide the fire element crystals.”

Baron Garrott silently agreed with Weyrich. Naville’s grain trade was monopolized by Marquess Sophia’s merchant association, and the liquor trade was monopolized by the Ephesus family from the Kingdom of Borea. Now, Marquess Sophia was also starting to dabble in the liquor trade, and her Purple Cane wine was very popular in Naville. The two merchant associations were fighting ceaselessly, but no matter how fiercely they competed, no other family’s association could shake their position.

The two great merchant associations lined their pockets in Naville, and Garrott had been green with envy. He had once joined with several other families to form a joint caravan, hoping to get a slice of the pie, but he had lost his shirt. Leaving aside the problems of bandits and transport, the layers of taxes levied by lords in every territory were more than they could bear. The joint caravan could only disband in failure.

Baron Garrott’s understanding of trade was far deeper than Weyrich’s. The goods were one thing, but the trade route was the key. The prospects for Snow Sugar candied fruit were good, but if it were handed over to the two great merchant associations to manage, the price would only be pushed down even further, and it would also offend the families that currently produced candied fruit. From this perspective, the Snow Sugar candied fruit had to find a different route to market if it was to be profitable.

“My lord!” Steward Vidal’s eyes shone like gold coins as he grabbed Baron Garrott’s arm and shook it vigorously.

Baron Garrott shook Vidal off and laughed loudly. “Good! Leave the Purple Sugar and Snow Sugar, and you can scram! Vidal, take the crystals back to the storeroom.”

The smile froze on Weyrich’s plump face.

Chapter 213: The Right to Negotiate

Weyrich had been in business for over forty years, but this was the first time he had masterminded a venture of his own. He had cleverly used the green cherry-plums to sell raw sugar at the price of honey. It was a business with immense profits, and Weyrich’s masterpiece.

During his months as a traveling merchant, Weyrich had keenly realized that after this one trip, the Warhammer Mercenary Company could cut him out and go it alone at any time. To remain a part of this trade route, he had to prove he was irreplaceable.

Weyrich knew that simply reselling mountain goods was too simple. Only by leveraging the trade route to build an entire industry could he secure his position, and the candied fruit industry was an excellent idea.

First, raw sugar wasn’t expensive and could be bought in Black Fortress Town, while the green cherry-plums didn’t even cost money. This meant the production cost of the raw sugar candied fruit was extremely low. Second, candied fruit was not sensitive cargo, making it easy to transport and store. Even if a lord were to seize it, it wouldn’t cause any major trouble. Finally, candied fruit had always been a delicacy of the nobles, a symbol of status. Ordinary vassals couldn’t afford it, but they could afford candied fruit made from raw sugar.

Raw sugar candied fruit: low cost, low risk, high profit. But Weyrich was well aware that none of these factors were worth a damn—the trade route was the key. As long as the route could bypass the lords’ layers of exploitation, you could even make money selling cow dung. The raw sugar candied fruit, however, could fully unlock the trade route’s potential.

Weyrich’s plan was simple: acquire raw sugar in Black Fortress Town, have the Mountain Folk make the candied fruit, and then use the trade route to transport the goods to various towns for sale. In this candied fruit industry, the Warhammer Mercenary Company controlled the trade route, responsible for transport and security, and thus deserved the lion’s share of the profits. Although the Mountain Folk’s fortified villages were part of the trade route, they had no say in the matter. They would only be responsible for production and supplies, and could be placated with a pittance. Once the candied fruit was produced, someone was needed to handle distribution, settle accounts, grease palms at every level, manage funds, purchase supplies, and set up shops. These were tasks the mercenaries couldn’t handle, and the Mountain Folk were even less capable. But Weyrich was an expert. He planned to take a small cut for himself.

Weyrich was determined to manage this enterprise well. By using the candied fruit and the trade route, he could expand his range of trade, win over other merchants, and buy the loyalty of the Mountain Folk. In the future, he might even be able to turn the tables and become the master. If he found a powerful backer, he could even kick the Warhammer Mercenary Company out of the picture.

When he learned of Iron Hammer’s predicament, Weyrich truly panicked. The Warhammer Mercenary Company had used up so much refined iron and raw sugar. If they still couldn’t obtain the fire element crystals, the “big shot” from the Randall family would surely not let them off. Iron Hammer would have to flee, and Weyrich’s plan would turn to smoke. Therefore, Weyrich had to use every ounce of his strength to help the mercenary company get the crystals.

Weyrich had planned meticulously, considering every detail, before he pitched the Snow Sugar candied fruit plan to Baron Garrott. In truth, it didn’t matter whether Commander Iron Hammer could actually get the Snow Sugar. It would be best if he could, as the candied fruit business could be made even bigger. If not, it was no great loss. Weyrich had never intended for Baron Garrott to be involved in the first place; he just needed to trick him out of the fire element crystals. But Weyrich had never, ever imagined that Baron Garrott would refuse.

At that moment, Weyrich was like a gambler who had lost his last pair of pants, his face ashen and his mind blank.

Why? Why? Why? To give up a path to wealth for a mere eight hundred pounds of raw sugar? How could His Lordship be so shortsighted? Did he see through my plan? Impossible!

His meticulously planned business had been rejected just like that. Weyrich was not just heartbroken; he was utterly gutted. He trembled, wanting to plead his case to Baron Garrott, but one look at those cold, merciless eyes stole all his courage. Just then, a firm hand rested on his shoulder. It was Iron Hammer.

Iron Hammer took a step forward and said respectfully, “My Lord, I request a wrestling match.”

Garrott looked at Iron Hammer, his surprise evident. “You’re a Naville man?”

“Yes,” Iron Hammer said in a low voice. “Over twenty years ago, Ogres rampaged through northern Naville. My clansmen and I fled to Dodor and became mercenaries. We fought the Sassans. Now, only a few of my brothers are left.”

“That Ogre disaster… many people died.” Baron Garrott sighed, then raised his voice. “Since you are a Naville man and you’ve fought the Sassans, I accept your request. Do you want to set the terms or the method?”

“I’ll set the terms,” Iron Hammer said. “If we win, we take the Purple Sugar with us. If we lose, the Purple Sugar stays.”

“As simple as that? You don’t want the flame crystals anymore?”

Iron Hammer shook his head. Garrott said with admiration, “Good! Martial arts arena. One-on-one. Wrestling. A single match to decide it all! Go and prepare.”

Iron Hammer bowed to Garrott, then dragged the devastated Weyrich out of the great hall. Steward Vidal was perplexed by the Baron’s decision. He asked quizzically, “My lord, why did you refuse that fat man’s proposal? We can’t buy Purple Sugar or Snow Sugar ourselves. Aren’t you cutting off a source of income?”

“What do you know?!”

Baron Garrott glared at his steward, then smiled. He had just given the fat Weyrich a surprise, and now he planned to give Iron Hammer another.

“Have Horus enter the wrestling match.”

The Naville wrestling arena was a raised platform built of green stone, fifty square meters in area, surrounded by a pit filled with mud. According to the rules, the two combatants could not use weapons or wear metal armor. It was a bare-fisted bout where falling into the mud pit meant defeat, and remaining on the platform meant victory. The loser, covered in foul-smelling mud, would have to unconditionally fulfill the prior agreement, while the winner would stand on the platform and bask in the cheers of the crowd.

The people of Naville were fierce and combative, and using wrestling to resolve disputes was an invention of a priest from the Church. Not only was it relatively safe, it was also highly competitive and entertaining. Since one could also place bets, it was deeply loved by the Naville people. Over hundreds of years, wrestling had gradually become a Naville tradition, and not even a lord could overturn the agreement made between two combatants. However, both parties had to first obtain the lord’s (or his agent’s) permission before they could begin, as a sign of respect for the lord’s authority.

News that the Lord was holding a wrestling match spread quickly through the town. In the short span of an hour, over a thousand people gathered around the arena. Some led sheep, others carried sacks of grain, some held salt containers, and others had animal hides slung over their backs. The atmosphere was as lively as a market day.

“Place your bets now! Those betting on the mercenary to win, stand to the left, one-to-one odds! Those betting on the guard to win, stand to the right, one-to-two odds!”

On the viewing platform, Vidal was shouting himself hoarse. On the wrestling platform, Bull stood alone.

Bull was nearly two meters tall, powerfully built, with dark, taut muscles. His gaze was cold and his expression calm, clearly an experienced and formidable warrior. Even though his opponent had not yet appeared, the one-to-one odds showed that most people favored him.

The townspeople tossed their wagers to Vidal’s left. Once all the bets were placed, Vidal revealed a cunning smile and gestured behind him. A well-proportioned guard stepped out from the ranks and walked straight onto the wrestling platform. When he lowered his hood, the crowd erupted. Curses and boos rose and fell in waves. Even Father Miad, dressed in his clerical robes, pointed at Vidal and cursed him out loud.

Baron Garrott, seated on the high platform, took a large swig of Purple Cane wine, wiped his mouth crudely, and let out a hearty laugh. Iron Hammer’s face was as black as the bottom of a pot. He hadn’t expected the Baron to be so shameless as to send a Knight into the ring, though he had to admit that putting Bull up to fight wasn’t exactly fair play either.

“Bull! Go all out! He’s a Knight!” Iron Hammer yelled toward the platform. Bull nodded back at him.

“A bunch of little bastards!”

Knight Horus couldn’t help but laugh and curse when he saw the townspeople and many of his own soldiers spitting in his direction. Half of those bets would end up in his pocket.

“Hey! Big guy!” Horus turned his gaze to Bull and said tauntingly, “I’m going to send you into that mud pit for a good bath!”

Bull remained unmoved, his expression wooden. Horus was somewhat surprised. Just then, Vidal struck a bronze gong, and the match began.

The moment the gong sounded, Bull exploded from the balls of his feet, his waist the bow and his arm the arrow. He crossed the eight-meter distance in two strides, his basin-sized fist whistling through the air as it shot toward Horus’s chest. Bull’s movements were a seamless whole, lightning-fast. Even the most elite soldier would have been unable to react. But the instant Bull moved, Horus had already responded.

Facing Bull’s fierce and sharp attack, Horus sank his stance, twisted his waist, and met it with a punch of his own. The moment their fists connected, Horus felt an immense, irresistible force.

A strength-type Ferocious Warrior!

Horus was shocked again. He hadn’t expected the Warhammer Mercenary Company to have another Ferocious Warrior.

But despite his surprise, Horus’s mind was calm and composed. For a Knight, circulating their Aura was as natural as breathing. Their strength, speed, perception, and coordination were all in sync, body and mind as one. Unless an opponent’s attack exceeded their limits, they would never be caught off guard.

Bull’s movements were swift and his power immense, but in the eyes of a Knight, he held no secrets. They could turn solid to void, advance to retreat, and redirect his movements at any time to seize the initiative. Horus was fully confident that with a simple pull, a trip, and a push, he could send Bull flying off the platform. However, Horus was a Knight of Naville; he preferred to meet force with force, strength with strength.

His Aura surged, his power skyrocketed, and Horus’s fist slammed heavily into Bull’s.

Bang!

The muffled sound wasn’t loud, but it struck the heart like a roll of thunder in the heavens. It was followed by the sharp shriek of tearing silk, and the turbulent air kicked up the dust on their leather armor, forming a visible ripple. Horus’s knees first bent, then straightened, and he stood his ground. But Bull was thrown backward with even greater speed.

Bull was one of the first Crouching Ox Militiamen, and both his intellect and martial prowess had reached the level of an Elite Guard. For three years, he had practiced the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form to perfection. Though he was still far from its ultimate stage of “Flicking a Finger to Summon Thunder,” he could fully unleash his own potential. The simplified Spirit Monkey Mystic Form also gave him excellent balance.

Bull was sent flying three meters through the air. He staggered backward with a series of heavy thuds—thump, thump, thump—and with each step, his tough leather boots cracked and split. Just as he was about to fall off the platform, Bull leaned his body to a forty-five-degree angle and began sprinting along the very edge of the stone stage. After a few steps, he shifted his momentum from a sideways lean into a forward charge, ramming straight toward Horus.

“Impressive!”

Knight Horus let out a wild laugh and braced against the unstoppable charge. This time, he was pushed back thirty centimeters before he managed to plant his feet firmly.

Wrestling!

On the platform, the Knight and the mercenary grappled, their arms entangled, shoving each other, desperately trying to throw their opponent down. This was a clash of strength against strength, technique against technique. This was true wrestling! The stunned audience erupted in a deafening roar of cheers. They had never expected what should have been an overwhelming victory to have such a spectacular turn and such a blood-pumping contest.

Every muscle in Bull’s body seemed to come alive, rolling and writhing like great, black-green serpents beneath his leather armor. The audience couldn’t see the abnormality, but Horus could clearly feel that Bull was like a thrashing, ferocious python. His monstrous strength was like an endless tide, each wave crashing in stronger than the last, becoming harder and harder to suppress. Gradually, Horus was forced to use his full strength as well.

When he had first knocked Bull back, Horus thought that was the limit of his opponent’s power. But he didn’t know that Bull’s explosive power was limited by his Physique of seventeen; if he unleashed it all at once, his own bones would break. Only in a close-quarters grapple could Bull’s full strength be brought to bear. Now, Horus knew his opponent’s strength was in no way inferior to his own.

Horus had wanted to test Bull’s stamina, but his opponent’s heart was still beating with a strong, steady pulse. He was starting to lose face. The match had lasted for less than ten minutes, and Horus’s own leather boots had shattered, his big toe now exposed. The most embarrassing part was that the crowd had started cheering for him!

Horus decided to end the match. He stopped trying to simply block his opponent’s strength and instead began to constantly disrupt Bull’s center of gravity. Bull’s strength could rival a Knight’s, but his technique and balance were a world away. Under the Knight’s pulling and maneuvering, Bull’s feet finally left the ground. With a mighty heave, Horus prepared to throw Bull from the platform.

The moment he was thrown, Bull stretched out his arm, grabbing for his opponent’s shoulder. But Horus dipped his left shoulder, dodging the counterattack, and used the momentum of his turn to push his right hand against Bull’s hip, sending him into the mud pit.

“Lord Horus! Well done!”

“Let these outsiders know the might of Garrott’s domain!”

Though the townspeople had lost their bets, their own Knight’s victory still filled them with joy and pride. At some point, Baron Garrott had stood up. He stared at Bull in the mud pit for a moment, then ordered his steward, “Tell Iron Hammer to bring that Bull to see me in the fortress.”

Iron Hammer, Weyrich, and a washed-clean Bull stood once again in the fortress’s great hall. Baron Garrott asked Bull, “Your name is Bull? Are you from Naville as well?”

Bull scratched his head, first bowing to the Baron, then said woodenly, “Yes.”

Iron Hammer quickly explained, “My lord, Bull and Raum are brothers, from my village. The two of them aren’t the sharpest tools in the shed.”

“Two brothers who are both Ferocious Warriors, that is indeed rare,” Garrott nodded and said, “According to the rules, the raw sugar is mine.”

“Yes, my lord,” Iron Hammer said with a bow.

Baron Garrott clapped his hands, and Vidal placed a wooden box in front of Iron Hammer. Weyrich, standing beside him, cried out, “Fire element crystals!”

Garrott didn’t even glance at Weyrich. He said to Iron Hammer, “As long as you bring me raw sugar and Snow Sugar, and buy back the Snow Sugar candied fruit at twenty-five Copper Sols apiece, these fire element crystals are yours!”

Iron Hammer’s face was a mask of confusion. He had been preparing to steal the crystals. He had only proposed the wrestling match in response to the Baron’s blatant attempt to seize the raw sugar. If he hadn’t, the Baron would have assumed they had more, then sent men to follow and rob them, which would have disrupted their own plan to rob the Baron.

Baron Garrott narrowed his eyes and said, “It’s alright if you don’t understand. Someone else will. My guards will escort you out of here. But remember this: if you cannot bring me the raw sugar and Snow Sugar, I will sell the Snow Sugar candied fruit I make to the major merchant associations.”

As Iron Hammer and the others walked out of the fortress in a daze, Steward Vidal, equally mystified, asked, “My lord, you refused before, so why have you agreed now?”

“That fat man is just rabble. He talks a good game, but he’s nothing but a castle built of green brick—even a Gnoll could claw a hole in it. What gives him the right to negotiate with me?” A cold sneer appeared on the Baron’s face as he continued, “But now it’s different. A mercenary company with two Ferocious Warriors… even I’m tempted. You think the little character behind them won’t be? I’m short on money; how could that little character not be short on money?”

“Even if he’s a little character, he has raw sugar, he has Snow Sugar, and he has a fierce mercenary company at his command. He has the right to do business with me! This new stream of revenue is something to look forward to.”

Vidal’s eyes lit up with understanding. “So that’s how it is! My Lord is wise! But what did you mean about selling the candied fruit to the major merchant associations?”

A cunning smile spread across Baron Garrott’s seemingly brutish face.

“If he doesn’t do business with me, the major merchant associations will cut off his path to wealth as well. If he’s a smart man, he’ll know what to do!”

Chapter 214: Vying for Favor

Leaden clouds hung low and a cold wind howled as Victor’s caravan wound its way along the muddy road.

The world of men had a strict hierarchy, and Titled Nobles had rigorous regulations to follow when traveling. This was as much to display their status and gain conveniences as it was to avoid unnecessary misunderstandings.

Lords controlled their domains through a network of fortresses, villages, towns, roads, and outposts. Most villages and towns were built in places rich with resources or water. Roads connected villages to towns and towns to fortresses, and along these roads, an outpost was built every twenty-five kilometers. These outposts provided shelter and supplies for patrolling soldiers at night, and they also functioned as post stations and tax checkpoints.

Travelers or caravans moving along the roads would be protected by patrolling soldiers and could stay overnight at the outposts when darkness fell—provided, of course, they submitted to the guards’ inspections and paid fees for lodging and transit. Anyone who attempted to travel through the wilderness was not only denied the lord’s protection but also considered to have ill intentions. If caught, they would be punished.

But if the armed caravan of another noble suddenly appeared in a territory, the guards and outposts would be hard-pressed to handle the situation. Any reaction from the local lord would not be surprising. It was for this very reason that a corresponding etiquette for noble travel gradually developed.

In Gambis, a Viscount traveling could be accompanied by no more than forty guards and ten attendants and servants. When a Viscount’s caravan passed through another family’s territory, an envoy had to be dispatched a day in advance to inform the local lord of their identity, numbers, itinerary, and destination, and they also had to register with the local Father. After receiving the notice, the lord could prepare to receive the distinguished guest or explicitly refuse their request for passage.

Unless the territory was in a state of turmoil, war, or disaster, a lord would generally not refuse a noble’s request to pass through. Even if they didn’t banquet the traveling noble, they were expected to provide conveniences befitting their status. And there was no chance Victor would receive a cold shoulder.

Victor’s caravan consisted of four noble carriages, eight ox-carts laden with supplies, eighty guards, twenty cavalry, and a number of servants, forming a grand procession of over a hundred people. In terms of numbers, this violated the regulations, but half of the personnel belonged to Judy’s personal guard.

In truth, no one cared whether Victor had overstepped the bounds of a Viscount’s status. The lords merely prayed that this caravan would not run into any trouble within their territories. The leader of the western lords, Duke Nimes, had even dispatched his Great Knight, Erolt, to escort them along the way. Throughout their journey, the western lords provided lavish hospitality and endless banquets. Victor had been traveling for a full month but still had not entered the central part of the kingdom.

March, in the Season of Water, was the time of year with the most rainfall. Though it was still afternoon, the sky was covered with dark clouds, blocking any trace of sunlight. The surroundings were as dim as night, and even someone with no travel experience would know that a downpour was imminent.

The experienced coachmen chose a patch of high ground. The guards and servants arranged the dozen or so carriages in a circle, driving the livestock into the center. They took out waterproof felt blankets and more than ten four-meter-long giant umbrellas from the ox-carts. The blankets were spread over the carriage roofs, and the umbrellas were driven half a meter into the ground and secured with ropes. When the giant umbrellas were opened one by one, the carriages, livestock, guards, and servants were all sheltered from the elements, turning the entire caravan into a peculiar, enormous shanty.

Victor stood shoulder to shoulder with Erolt. Seeing the retainers finish the rain preparations, Erolt couldn’t help but say, “Every time I see these umbrellas open, I’m always amazed.”

As an enfeoffed earl of the Nimes family and a Silver-rank Great Knight, Erolt would normally have disdained the role of a bodyguard. But the political significance of Victor’s journey was extraordinary, and the Nimes family had to ensure his safety. Dispatching a high-ranking family member as an escort was both a show of support for the royal family and a sign of respect for the York family.

In the eyes of a Knight, only other Knights, great scholars, and lords could be considered true nobles. If Erolt were escorting merely Sylvia’s lover, he would have maintained a polite facade at best. But Victor’s status as a Silver-rank archer had already earned him a place in the circle of Great Knights. Erolt and Victor had gotten along splendidly on their journey, and he was full of admiration for the giant umbrellas of Victor’s caravan.

The structure of the giant umbrellas was nothing special; the key technology lay in the waterproof oilcloth. The Alchemical auxiliary soldiers would use fish glue to bind three layers of coarse linen cloth together, soak the composite in a mixture of Fishmen mucus and resin for three days, then coat it with specially prepared plant ash and let it dry. The result was an exceptionally durable, waterproof oilcloth.

Victor had ordered the Alchemical auxiliary soldiers to produce the waterproof oilcloth to protect the cargo of the freemen caravans, since handcarts, unlike carriages, were not rainproof. If a caravan steward or a noble’s steward were to see this new invention, it would surely pique their interest. Unfortunately for Victor, Earl Erolt was merely full of praise and showed no inclination to get to the bottom of the matter. Victor was happy to quietly profit from it. He smiled and said, “The Season of Water… rain in March, snow in April. It’s truly not a good time for travel. I’m afraid we won’t make it to Baron Vicaul’s castle today.”

Erolt glanced at the rain clouds in the sky and shook his head. “This won’t be a light rain. We may have to spend the night in the wilderness.” As he spoke, a drop of rain fell to the ground. Erolt smiled mischievously. “Victor, you’d better get back to your carriage. Someone’s waiting for you.”

Victor’s Perception was incredibly sharp. Without looking, he knew that from behind a carriage window, tender glances were falling upon him from time to time. They naturally belonged to the beautifully charming Lady Judy.

Victor gave Erolt an apologetic smile, and the two men returned to their respective carriages.

Just as he stepped onto the wooden stairs, the carriage door was opened, and a radiantly beautiful face, lovely whether pouting or smiling, welcomed him inside. As soon as he was in the carriage, Judy threw her pale, rounded arms around his neck, first offering him a long, passionate kiss before carefully unfastening his cloak and leather armor. She then knelt to pull off his leather boots. Her movements were gentle and graceful, like a newlywed wife serving her husband.

Outside, the cold was biting; inside, it was as warm as spring. Judy wore only a thin, sleeveless silk nightgown that reached her knees. Her smooth, straight calves peeked out from under the hem, and her beautiful, bare feet rested gently on a white cashmere blanket. Her brilliant golden hair cascated down her shoulders, revealing a fair, slender neck. Her waist dipped low, and under the nightgown, her round, pert buttocks were as full and alluring as a ripe peach. As if sensing his heated gaze, Judy raised a hand to sweep her hair to one side and looked up with a faint smile. Victor couldn’t resist scooping up the stunner and tossing her onto the soft couch at the back of the carriage. The two were caught in the heat of their illicit affair and just about to enjoy each other’s company when raindrops the size of beans began to patter down.

Through the carriage window, he could see a sudden downpour, like a waterfall. The curtain of rain blotted out the sky, and the world outside was a sheet of white. Victor frowned; even with his vision, he couldn’t see clearly five hundred meters away. A soft, fragrant body pressed against him from behind. Judy rested her delicate chin on Victor’s shoulder and said in a low voice, “Darling, why aren’t Elina and Alice back yet? I’m so worried.”

“Elina and Alice are both apprentice knights. A little rain like this won’t be a problem for them.” Though he said this, Victor still strained to listen through the sound of the rain. Soon, he heard the footsteps of six people. With an adjustment from X-3, an image formed of sound appeared in his mind: the twin sisters, guarded by three Lithe Ape militiamen, were sprinting toward them. Reno, carrying a fat yellow goat on his shoulders, was lagging behind.

A short while later, Victor walked over and pulled open the carriage door, and two slender figures barely managed to rush inside. Shutting the cold rain outside with a swing of the door, Victor put on a stern face and scolded, “I told you it was going to rain, but you just had to go out hunting. Now you’re soaked, aren’t you?”

Elina and Alice pouted almost in unison, looking down at their toes. Their rose-red hair was plastered wetly to their pale cheeks, and their bodies were still trembling slightly. They looked both pitiful and wretched.

No matter what background the sisters came from, they now bore the name Randall. Seeing his women shivering from the cold, Victor felt a pang of pity. “Hurry and get out of those clothes.”

The twin sisters helped each other out of their leather armor, kicked off their boots, and, blushing, removed their soaked fine linen undergarments in the soft candlelight. Victor took two sheepskin cloaks and covered the sisters’ graceful, alluring bodies. He turned and instructed, “Judy, make some hot coffee for them.”

“Yes, my lord,” Judy said with a pursed-lip smile, rising and walking toward the front of the carriage.

“Go on inside, there’s a stove in there,” Victor said to the two sisters.

“My lord, you’re the best.”

The sisters’ faces lit up with smiles. They each planted a kiss on Victor’s cheek and turned to walk gracefully toward the carriage’s soft couch, their four long, jade-like legs flashing in and out of sight beneath the cloaks. As Judy passed by them, the younger sister, Alice, shot her a triumphant look.

Ever since they had set out, Judy had used the pretext of seeking advice on governing a domain to stay in Victor’s carriage, keeping him company like a wife. She chatted with him, played chess, and even sang for him every day, while Elina and her sister could only ride in Judy’s carriage. Seeing Victor completely monopolized by Judy, Elina and Alice were both anxious and resentful. They were Victor’s rightful partners, but because of Victor’s attitude, the two sisters didn’t dare express their dissatisfaction directly. And so they had staged this pitiable ploy to reclaim their position.

Judy was well aware of the twin sisters’ intentions, but she had no plans to yield. Judy was frail by nature, with neither the ambition nor the preparation to lead a family. After her husband’s death, she had been overcome with grief. But faced with her family’s situation, Judy had once thought of relying on Austin. Austin, however, was only after power. When Judy was being hunted, Victor killed Austin, and in doing so, he became her lifeline. Just being with Victor made Judy feel safe. This reliance, fostered by their constant intimacy on the road, had gradually transformed into a kind of infatuation. Judy had no intention of vying with Elina and Alice for favor, but she would never leave Victor’s side.

As Elina and her sister wiped their bodies dry, they deliberately showed themselves off, while Judy, gracefully preparing coffee, cast tender glances at Victor. Victor didn’t understand the secret war between women, but all three beauties, as lovely as flowers, presented themselves as his for the taking, which made the atmosphere in the carriage wonderfully and dangerously amorous.

Victor felt his mouth go dry. Even the little Baron in the Royal Capital hadn’t lived so extravagantly or outrageously. Considering that the Great Knight Erolt was in a nearby carriage, Victor suppressed the desire in his heart. Calming himself, he silently circulated the Golden Toad Mystic Form and focused his attention on the vast rain outside.

The Golden Toad Mystic Form elevated Victor’s Perception to an incredible degree. He could use the sound of the rain lashing the ground to sketch out colorless images in his mind. Victor eagerly tested his limits. He activated Overlimit and Super Sense, and the images in his mind grew more distant and clearer. When his Perception extended to a distance of twelve hundred meters, two men and three horses suddenly burst into the image Victor was forming.

They were two men, wearing hats and leather coats, leading two warhorses and a packhorse. The horses’ backs were covered with felt blankets, while the men trudged through the downpour. The surrounding area was flat plain, with nowhere to take shelter from the rain, and the nearest outpost was still ten kilometers away. In such harsh weather, it was impossible for them to make it to the outpost.

Victor felt a pang of compassion. He raised a hand and knocked on the carriage window. One-Eyed Dragon Gru came over and asked, “My lord, what are your orders?”

“There are two travelers in distress over there. Send a few men to bring them here,” Victor said, pointing toward the road.

“Huh?!” Gru’s mouth fell open as he stared at the white sheet of rain. He truly couldn’t imagine how the lord could possibly know there were travelers in distress outside.

“What are you waiting for! They’re just a kilometer away,” Victor shot Gru a glare.

“Oh.” Gru quickly arranged for some men to carry out Victor’s command.

Three guards wearing straw raincoats plunged into the curtain of rain, heading in the direction Victor had indicated.

“Darling, the coffee is ready.”

Judy’s voice sounded from behind him. Victor turned to see three pairs of moist, bewitching eyes. The Golden Toad Mystic Form was broken without a fight.

The rain is so loud, Erolt shouldn’t be able to hear anything, right? It’ll probably be fine if I just shut the window tight…

Victor reached out and closed the window. He felt the sound of the rain was indeed much quieter.

Chapter 215: The Bard

“We’re all going to die! Rawell, this is all your fault! I should be lying in a pile of hay in the stables, but you just had to set out today!”

The cold, dense rain lashed painfully against his face, and his companion’s complaints made Rawell even more distraught. He turned and roared, “Hans, shut your mouth! I have the blood of the Grantour family in my veins! How dare you question me, you stupid ass?!”

Perhaps it was the outburst of anger, or perhaps it was the mouthful of rainwater he swallowed, but Rawell calmed down slightly. He looked up at the sky and saw that the dark clouds showed no sign of thinning. “Listen, Hans!” he shouted in resignation. “We’ll find a higher spot, tie our three old pals together, and hide under their bellies. We’ll wait for the rain to stop before we move on.”

Hans said nothing. The three horses were their companions, their property, and their most important tools. Without the horses, they would lose their identity and become no different from the lowly refugees. They would normally rather go hungry than let their horses miss a meal. Now, they could only sacrifice their precious companions.

Rawell and Hans silently took out hemp ropes and tied the horses together. Both knew this was no real solution. The rain had already soaked them to the bone. Even hiding under the horses’ bellies, they wouldn’t last long unless the storm passed quickly. Hans knelt in the mud, crossed his hands, and shiveringly prayed to the merciful Lord of Radiance to stop the torrential rain, scatter the dark clouds, and let the sun shine again.

Hans prayed again and again, but the downpour continued unabated. Just as he was despairing, Rawell rushed out from under the horses, leaping and waving his arms excitedly. “Help! We’re over here! For the sake of the Lord of Radiance, save us!”

Rawell’s efforts were not in vain. Three figures in the rain noticed the commotion and walked toward them. Hans scrambled up from the mud and hugged Rawell, and they both jumped and shouted. When the three figures drew near, they saw two men clinging to each other, acting as if they’d gone mad—shouting, laughing, and crying all at once.

“You two are certainly lucky. Our convoy is just up ahead. Let’s go!”

The man in the lead, wearing a straw raincoat, looked Rawell and Hans up and down. With a wave of his hand, a giant umbrella opened, shielding them from the roaring rain. Hans had no time for surprise and fumbled to untie the ropes on the horses. Another man stepped forward and drew his sword. The blade flashed past the horses’ bellies, and the hemp ropes snapped. Rawell quickly grabbed the reins to soothe the startled horses, and then the two of them followed the three men forward.

After walking for about half an hour, Rawell saw a “shanty” with wagons for walls and giant umbrellas for a roof, and his heart finally settled. The two led their horses into the shelter and found many people inside, along with oxen and other horses. A tall, fierce-looking one-eyed man approached them and ordered, “Give these two lucky unlucky devils a blanket each. Let them warm themselves by the fire and have a bowl of hot soup.”

A moment later, master and servant had stripped off their soaked clothes and were wrapped in sheepskin felt blankets, sitting before a brazier. They warmed themselves by the fire while gulping down steaming hot meat broth. After two bowls of hot soup, Rawell felt like he had come back to life. He began to cautiously survey his surroundings.

A dozen single-log poles supported the “shelter” like mushrooms, layered to cover this small patch of ground. The surrounding oxcarts and carriages formed the walls. Among them was one carriage more than twice the size of a typical noble’s coach. The people inside were either elite guards or well-trained attendants. The oxen and horses were also particularly strong and robust. Rawell even spotted four pureblood Mailell draft horses. He was now certain that this was a noble’s convoy.

While Rawell was observing the convoy, the one-eyed Gru was examining his belongings.

“A barrel of kidney beans, eleven Gold Sol, fifty-two Silver Sol, two hundred thirty Copper Sol, two steel daggers, one shortsword… Tsk, tsk, you even have three hand crossbows… a parchment scroll, a quill… What’s this? A harp? A bagpipe!” Gru scratched the back of his head and chuckled. “So, you’re a bard!”

A young guard asked curiously, “Captain, what does a bard do?”

“A bunch of likable liars.” A nostalgic look appeared in Gru’s single eye, and he grinned. “Come on! Let’s go see that bard who fell on hard times.”

Seeing the one-eyed man approaching with several guards, Rawell quickly stood up, placed a hand over his chest, and bowed. “Good day, my lords. Thank you for saving our lives. I am Rawell, a bard from the Eastern Alliance, and this is my loyal servant, Hans.” As he spoke, Rawell quietly kicked his servant. Hans hastily dropped the half-gnawed bone in his hand and mimicked his master, bowing to Gru.

The War Bear Mercenary Company had once rescued a bard who claimed to have noble blood. He was arrogant and aloof, barely acknowledging the mercenaries who had saved him. In the end, he even scammed a sum of money from the mercenary company and fled. However, the company had also learned to write from him and made some useful connections. Now, this bard was respectfully addressing him as “my lord,” which made Gru quite smug.

“I am Gru, Captain of Viscount Randell’s personal guard.” Gru lifted his chin arrogantly and said, “It is now the cold Season of Water. What are you doing out in the wilderness instead of staying in a town?” Without waiting for an answer, Gru pressed, “Did you cheat someone out of their money and have to flee?”

Rawell and Hans exchanged a glance. Gru knew he had guessed right and couldn’t help but laugh.

“My lord, I just won some money at a tavern, and the losers wouldn’t let it go, so…” Rawell explained in a low voice. Gru waved his hand and said, “I don’t care if you gambled or cheated. Since my lord ordered me to rescue you, I won’t throw you out.”

“It was Lord Viscount Randell who sent people to rescue us? I must thank the honorable Lord Viscount in person,” Rawell said with a pleasant surprise.

Gru shot Rawell a sidelong glance and said coolly, “Is my lord someone you can see just because you want to? Just wait here obediently.”

“Yes! Yes!” Rawell watched Gru leave, his eyes flashing with excitement.

As evening fell, the downpour gradually eased into a moderate rain. The soldiers in the camp lit three braziers and began to prepare dinner. Before long, steam rose from two large pots licked by the flames. On another side, two attendants were focused on roasting a plump yellow goat. Golden grease dripped into the campfire, popping into sparks. The tantalizing aroma made the master and servant swallow their saliva repeatedly.

Once the wild game was roasted, an attendant took the yellow goat off the spit and skillfully used a small knife to carve the meat, crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, onto two exquisite silver platters. Two pretty handmaidens lifted the platters and walked toward two separate noble carriages. Hans stared at the handmaidens’ perky bottoms, while Rawell’s gaze was fixed on the door of the largest carriage.

A handmaiden knocked gently on the carriage. The door opened, and bright candlelight spilled out. A slender, elegant, snow-white hand took the silver platter, and the door closed again. In that fleeting, stunning moment, the image of that jade-like hand, as beautiful as an iris, was deeply imprinted in Rawell’s mind.

Night fell, but the Viscount did not summon Rawell and his servant. Hans was already fast asleep. Rawell, wrapped in his felt blanket, tossed and turned, endlessly imagining the beauty of the owner of that slender hand.

The next morning, Rawell and his servant were woken up. The rain had stopped by then, and the soldiers and attendants were busy packing up the camp, folding the giant umbrellas and hitching the horses to the carriages. Gru walked over to Rawell and said, “Wash up and await my lord’s summons.”

Rawell and Hans washed themselves, then carefully straightened their clothes. After making sure everything was in order, they patiently waited to be summoned by the Lord Viscount.

Under Rawell’s eager gaze, the carriage door was pushed open. A delicate boot stepped out first, followed by a graceful figure that came into view. When a slender, snow-white hand rested on the doorframe, Rawell could no longer resist looking at the face of its owner.

Lustrous red hair was styled into an elegant noblewoman’s bun. Her emerald eyes held more color than any gemstone, and below a beautiful, jade-like nose were lips as vibrant as fire. Her fair face was tinged with a faint blush of spring passion. As her eyes swept over him, Rawell’s mind went blank. The face he had imagined countless times could not compare to a single frown or smile from this peerless beauty.

Rawell stared dumbly as the beauty descended from the carriage. He wanted only to prostrate himself before her, to kiss her boots, to praise her with the most beautiful poems. But this lovely lady paid no mind to the star-struck bard. She gracefully stepped aside as another red-haired beauty alighted from the carriage. Upon seeing this noblewoman, Rawell could hardly breathe. They were identical twins!

The two beauties stood outside the carriage door, extending identical jade-like hands. A black-haired, black-eyed youth then stepped down from the carriage, his hands resting on theirs. Rawell’s heart was instantly consumed by the roaring flames of jealousy. Although the young noble’s features were exquisitely handsome, even more outstanding than the twin beauties, in Rawell’s eyes, he was utterly detestable and hateful.

Hans saw Rawell standing frozen and knew his old habit was acting up again. He discreetly but viciously pinched Rawell’s rear. The sharp pain snapped Rawell back to his senses. He quickly lowered his hands and his head, adopting a humble and honest demeanor. The young Lord Viscount paid no attention to the bard’s actions. He extended his arm toward the carriage door, and a third beautiful and moving noblewoman emerged. Leaning on the young noble for support, she stepped down from the carriage with an elegant demeanor. Her fair, smooth face was also faintly flushed, and her azure eyes were fixed on the young noble’s face, brimming with deep affection.

Three of them? Why wasn’t I the one in that carriage!? Rawell lamented in his heart.

“Victor, good morning. You look to be in good spirits,” Earl Erolt said with a warm smile, greeting Victor.

“Good morning, Lord Erolt.” Victor’s face flushed. He still couldn’t control his own vitality.

So thin-skinned. What’s there to be embarrassed about?

Erolt tactfully changed the subject. “Is this the stranded traveler you rescued yesterday?”

“Your name is Rawell? You’re a bard?” Gru’s conversation with Rawell had not escaped Victor’s Perception.

Several attendants quickly spread a waterproof oilcloth on the ground and set up a round table and chairs. Victor and Erolt nodded to each other and took their respective seats.

Earl Erolt asked with great interest, “A bard? From which family’s bloodline?”

“Your noble Lordship, I am of the Grantour family bloodline,” Rawell said, performing an ancient noble’s bow.

“Grantour?” Erolt couldn’t recall the name of this family at all.

Rawell explained sheepishly, “The Grantour family is from the Eastern Alliance…”

“Oh.” Upon hearing that the Grantour family was from the Eastern Alliance, Erolt’s attitude immediately cooled.

Bards were neither nobles nor freemen; to be precise, they were the nobility among freemen. When a noble bloodline was passed down to a vassal’s family, and that family failed to establish itself as a house, the noble bloodline would become incredibly thin after a few generations. Their descendants could no longer awaken as Knights, nor did they have the money to study at the Spire. The second sons of these families had to find their own way in life, and becoming a bard was the choice for most of them.

Throughout the history of human nobility, many outstanding bards had appeared, some even being Pinnacle Knights. They were naturally romantic, loved freedom, and pursued spiritual fulfillment. Proficient in music and literature, they composed magnificent poems and heroic epics. They were highly sought after by nobles and honored as distinguished guests by lords. These great bards, a combination of knight, poet, and singer, enjoyed fighting for justice. The common people regarded them as heroes and legends, and the Church called these knight-poets who helped the populace Rangers.

The heroic deeds of Rangers were widely circulated throughout the human kingdoms and were constantly romanticized. This made the romantic profession highly desirable for young men from less well-off families who possessed a noble bloodline. It also led to bards of varying quality; those from the Eastern Alliance, in particular, often engaged in dishonorable deeds to make a living.

The Eastern Alliance was a land of exile for convicts. The noble bloodlines there had long been ruined beyond recognition by the Kingdom of Sus and the Kingdom of Borea. Out of a hundred people, at least several dozen would claim to have noble blood. Of course, Erolt would not give Rawell a second thought, but Victor was very interested in the bard before him.

In Victor’s view, these grassroots poets connected the noble and commoner classes. They traveled far and wide, were well-informed, and acted as transmitters of information and spreaders of rumors, possessing the characteristics of both brokers and messengers.

“Rawell, where have you come from? And what news can you tell me?” Victor, accustomed to the age of information explosion, was eager to hear news from afar.

Rawell’s spirits lifted. This was the opportunity he had been waiting for.

“Your noble Lordship, I come from the Eastern Alliance. I have traveled through the Kingdom of Borea and the Kingdom of Sus, passed through the Kingdom of Naville, and have now arrived in the Kingdom of Gambia. I wish to experience the scenery of the Centaur Hills. What news would you like to hear?”

Victor smiled faintly. “Just tell me about some major events.”

“Half a year ago, Her Majesty Queen Elayanuo of Sus held a grand banquet to entertain a visiting noble of elven bloodline…” Rawell secretly watched Victor’s expression. Seeing no sign of displeasure, he continued, “Twelve months ago, Duke Peter of the Kingdom of Borea stripped his eldest son, Raymond Peter, of his inheritance rights and named his second son, Maisteer, as the heir…”

“Oh?” Victor asked nonchalantly. “What was the reason for Raymond Peter being stripped of his inheritance?”

“Rumor has it that Young Master Raymond had an affair with Duke Peter’s personal handmaiden. The Duke was furious when he found out. He had Young Master Raymond’s Steward executed and imprisoned Raymond on Ogar Island, one of the Seven Great Islands.”

“Interesting. Continue,” Victor said with a smile.

“The King of Naville personally slew an Ogre Warlord…”

Earl Erolt scoffed, “The royal family of Naville paid you to sing the praises of His Majesty Regis’s great deed, didn’t they?”

“Yes… yes,” Rawell answered honestly.

Looking at the terrified Rawell, Victor couldn’t help but feel a twinge of familiarity. If the little Baron had not awakened his elven bloodline, he would most likely have ended up as a bard, recruiting a servant, traveling around with three horses, making a living by performing, and praying that one day he might gain the favor of some great figure and secure a job that could feed him. Or he might have married into a wealthy freeman merchant’s family. He also could have died silently in some corner of the world.

At this thought, Victor instructed Gru, “Replenish their supplies, and give them a reward of 100 Gold Sol.”

Rawell was overjoyed and offered his praise, “Your noble Lordship, thank you for your generosity. May your glory shine, and may the beautiful Viscount’s wife have eternal youth.”

Judy, dressed in the formal attire of a viscount’s wife, bloomed into a radiant smile, while the Elina sisters’ faces turned frosty. Two cold, murderous auras made Rawell shrink back. The goddesses in his heart had vanished completely.

Chapter 216: A Strange Relationship

The Royal Capital of Gambis is located in the center of the kingdom. The Blinor River flows through it, giving it the name Blinor City. It has a history of more than six hundred years to date.

Blinor was originally just a small town that gradually expanded with the rise of the Auguste family. After the Auguste family founded the kingdom, Blinor became the Royal Capital of Gambis.

As the political, economic, and military center of Gambis, Blinor is also the kingdom’s largest distribution hub for goods and materials. Every year, the lords must transport their annual tributes to Blinor, and the tithes collected by the Church in Gambis are also transferred through here.

The abundance of goods has attracted a large population. Blinor has a permanent population of over seventy thousand, and the number of unrecorded freemen is too great to count. To accommodate the ever-growing population, Blinor has been continuously repaired and expanded over the past six hundred years. Today, it has become one of the most magnificent cities in the human kingdoms.

Blinor is divided into the inner city, the outer district, and the shantytowns. The inner city, covering thirty-two square kilometers, is composed of the Vassal District, the Nobles’ District, and the royal palace. The outer district, spanning seventy-one square kilometers, mainly consists of farmland, warehouses, military barracks, workshops, residential areas, and commercial districts. Outside the city walls lie the shantytowns where the freemen gather, covering an area of nearly forty square kilometers.

At the northernmost edge of the Nobles’ District lies the royal palace of Gambis. Through years of construction, six castles have been connected to form a fortress complex covering ten square kilometers. Because the Auguste family uses a kite bird as their sigil, the royal palace is also known as Aerie Fortress.

It was morning in a reception room deep within Aerie Fortress, where Grand Duke Williams was meeting with the two leaders of Night Owl.

“Viscount Victor Randell is twenty years old this year. He hails from Kyle County in the northern part of the kingdom. His father is Baron Shatan Wimbledon, an ordinary noble, currently fifty-six years old. His birth mother, Elena Wimbledon, was the daughter of a lord, with no noble bloodline, and passed away when Victor was four. His stepmother, Lelia Wimbledon, is currently thirty-four years old. She is the second daughter from a side branch of the Berens family and was once a widow.”

“Viscount Randell has an older full-brother, Mario Wimbledon, currently twenty-five, an apprentice knight. His tutor is Rudolph, a Knight of the Berens family. The Viscount also has a younger half-sister named Percy, who is only seven. The two have never met. Additionally, the Viscount’s father has two illegitimate children, neither of whom has awakened a knight’s bloodline, so their names are not worth mentioning.”

“Baron Shatan Wimbledon’s fief is located on the edge of the mountain forests in western Kyle County. Under his name, there are two manors, one village, twenty thousand mu of farmland, and one hundred twenty square kilometers of mountain forest. He has a total of 657 registered commoners. The fief’s annual income is around nine hundred Gold Sols, and it supports seventy soldiers for the kingdom. Baron Shatan’s net income does not exceed three hundred Gold Sols.”

“That concludes the details of Viscount Randell’s family situation.”

The speaker was a tall, strikingly beautiful noblewoman. She appeared to be in her early twenties, with brown hair, fair and flawless skin, long eyebrows over refined eyes, a delicate nose, and cherry-like lips. However, her gaze was cold and her tone flat, giving off an icy impression.

Williams paid no mind to the noblewoman’s cold and proud demeanor; he knew it was simply Margaretta’s nature. As the late King’s lover, the Queen’s confidante, and one of the leaders of Night Owl, the very fact that Margaretta was reporting to him personally was a statement in itself.

Since the kingdom’s three Gold Knights had successively made their stances clear, Williams had also compromised on the matter of the throne. Summoning Margaretta and Walus together today was both a way to probe the Queen’s attitude and to get a grasp on Victor’s situation.

All Silver Knights were subjects of the royal family’s attention. As a male pet, Victor was not worthy of the royal family’s notice, but as a Silver-rank Wind Walk Archer, his background, bloodline, personality, and abilities had all become targets of Night Owl’s intelligence gathering.

Williams smiled at Margaretta and asked, “What about Viscount Victor’s lineage?”

Margaretta knew what Williams was concerned about. She said, “According to our investigation, the Viscount’s ancestor was a distant cousin of Sword Saint Draven. Viscount Victor does not share the Sword Saint’s bloodline. The Church’s blood-kin records have verified this.”

“Oh? That is rather unexpected,” Williams frowned and then asked, “What is Victor’s relationship with his family?”

“Very poor.” Margaretta paused, then added, “You could say there are no feelings between them at all!”

“In the hierarchy of court nobles, Baron Shatan ranks at the very bottom. His family has not produced a Knight in three generations, and the fief under their management has been continuously shrinking. Baron Shatan’s financial situation is extremely tight, making it impossible for him to afford the educational expenses for his two legitimate sons. When Viscount Victor began to exhibit the traits of a Moon Elf bloodline, Baron Shatan made the most common decision.”

“Shatan first contacted the Berens family. They arranged for the widowed Lelia to marry Shatan, and she became Victor’s stepmother, responsible for teaching him courtly etiquette. Baron Shatan then began to deliberately distance himself from Victor.” At this, the corner of Margaretta’s mouth curled up in a sneer. “The Berens family and Baron Shatan planned to raise Victor into a proper male pet and then sell him to the Sus Royal Family for a high price. But how could their actions possibly escape the eyes and ears of Night Owl?”

“When Viscount Victor was twelve, at Her Majesty the Queen’s arrangement, Marquess Sophia offered an inducement fee of one hundred thousand Gold Sols and twenty cleansing potions to obtain guardianship over him. Victor lived in the royal palace for three years and married Sophia when he was fifteen.”

“I attended their wedding banquet. You all did a fine job training Victor; he looked like a perfect little flower vase back then.” Williams gave Margaretta a light glance and sighed. “Who could have imagined that the little flower vase from back then would one day personally shoot down a Great Knight and a Knight? Now, The Rose Knights have a terrifying Wind Walk Archer.”

“Perhaps even more than that!” Walus interjected. “Viscount Ternis has been to the Centaur Hills. He found Viscount Victor holding fast to his own territory. I suspect Victor may have killed a Silver-rank Ant-man chief. Otherwise, Lady Sylvia would never have let him leave Black Fortress.”

“Even if Viscount Victor hasn’t killed an Ant-man chief, Lady Sylvia must believe that the Ant-man chief poses no threat to him,” Walus added.

Williams took a deep breath, tapped on the table, and asked doubtfully, “When did Victor awaken his Wind Walk talent? Did he awaken it while he was in the Royal Capital?”

“He did not!” Margaretta said with certainty.

“In other words, in less than three years, Viscount Victor not only awakened his Wind Walk talent but also manifested the wind element?! No wonder Lady Sylvia values him so highly!” Walus sighed, shaking his head.

Leaning back in his chair, Williams asked with some annoyance, “What do you think Victor’s personality is like now?”

“Victor used to be very respectful toward Her Majesty the Queen, but his temperament has indeed changed drastically now.” Margaretta nodded and said, “Back then, to avoid unnecessary trouble, we instilled in Victor the idea that Baron Shatan had abandoned him. Immediately after, he was given to Lady Sylvia as a gift. These two betrayals had a great impact on him, and as a result, he took his anger out on Her Majesty the Queen and directly signed the fief exchange agreement.”

“In the Centaur Hills, Victor displayed extraordinary talent. He roped in a mercenary company and established a work point system to first secure his footing. Then he invented Purple Cane wine, raw sugar, Snow Sugar, and coffee, and conducted a Divine Notarization with Duke York, thereby gaining the York family’s support. But he refused to become a vassal of the York family. This shows that Victor desires independence—which is, of course, a naive side of him.”

“That makes sense. Victor is talented, gifted, and eager to prove himself, but he’s also somewhat immature. That’s why he killed Austin without hesitation—he had no idea the kingdom prohibits duels between Great Knights. You all truly taught him well. Perhaps you even read him many epics praising knightly duels,” Williams said, his tone laced with sarcasm.

Margaretta was silent for a moment before saying, “It was His Highness Roland who read them to him.”

“I knew it…” Williams rubbed his temples.

“And Lady Sylvia condoned it,” Margaretta said coldly.

“What do you mean?!”

“Your Highness, haven’t you noticed that the relationship between Lady Sylvia and Viscount Victor is very strange?” Margaretta continued on her own, “Victor and Phoenix have an ambiguous relationship, yet Lady Sylvia sent Phoenix to his side. Furthermore, Lady Sylvia has been consistently protecting Viscount Victor’s independence. We could see this as a form of indulgence, or perhaps the York family needs Viscount Victor to be their representative. But the strange thing is, why doesn’t Lady Sylvia guide Viscount Victor? Viscount Victor killing Austin was fundamentally against the York family’s interests. Any other lord would have used Judy and her son to force Austin to compromise. This means that not only did Lady Sylvia fail to teach Victor how to be a lord, but she also didn’t arrange a steward for him!”

“After Austin was shot and killed, Lady Sylvia immediately stepped forward to take responsibility for the matter. Then, she arranged two more personal handmaidens for Victor.”

“What are you trying to say?” Williams asked in a low voice.

Margaretta stated coolly, “Lady Sylvia’s indulgence of Viscount Victor has reached a point where it is out of control!”

Williams wanted to laugh out loud but couldn’t. Every noble was only allowed four legal partners. Victor already had a wife and one personal handmaiden; Sylvia arranging two more for him meant that Victor could no longer form a political marriage with any other family. Political marriages between lords were common, but for Sylvia to arrange partners for her own lover seemed utterly irrational. If one were to say Sylvia did it to strengthen her control over Victor, then that itself was a sign of being out of control!

Thinking of this, Williams asked Walus, “Who would dare risk offending Sylvia to form a political marriage with Victor?”

Walus thought for a moment and said, “We would!”

“Why would we do that?” this time, Williams asked Margaretta.

“That is also something I wish to find out!” Margaretta said flatly.

“Something’s not right!” Walus interjected. “If Viscount Victor is so important to Lady Sylvia, why would she let him come to the Royal Capital?”

“Prince Edward has already gone to the Centaur Hills. What’s so strange about Victor coming to the Royal Capital?” Margaretta said indifferently.

“Without sending a Knight to protect him? Even if we won’t harm Viscount Victor, what about other powers? Is Lady Sylvia so certain that we can guarantee the Viscount’s safety?” Walus retorted.

Margaretta was speechless, but she had another card to play. “There are many puzzling things about the York family. For example, they chose to defend the Centaur Hills despite not having enough stone.”

Williams and Walus exchanged a glance. Walus understood immediately and said with a smile, “Only when Lady Sylvia led The Rose Knights north did we learn that there are many stone quarries north of the Centaur Hills, in the Dodor Kingdom’s sphere of influence. If the York family wants to seize those quarries, they will need our support.”

“Your Highness, it is a fact that the York family’s attitude toward Victor is strange. We must find out the reason why.” Margaretta paused for a moment, then continued, “When the Ant-man plague broke out, one of our death commandos risked his life to transmit vital intelligence, but he was silenced by Bishop Pello in Redleaf Town. The York family took the opportunity to purge Night Owl’s spies. Currently, our personnel stationed in the Centaur Hills have suffered heavy losses, and we need to develop new secret agents. I request that the Ministry of Internal Affairs provide one hundred thousand Gold Sols as funding to rebuild our intelligence network. If you agree, I will send people to infiltrate the Randell Fief and uncover its secrets.”

After all that beating around the bush, she was here for money!

Williams didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. As he was pondering in silence, Walus spoke up from the side, “Your Highness, I also need two hundred thousand Gold Sols to monitor the Naville’s movements. You promised me…” As he spoke, Walus and Margaretta’s gazes met, and sparks seemed to fly.

It was necessary for the kingdom to keep track of the movements of its various lords, but understanding the changes in the Kingdom of Naville was also crucial. However, the finances of the Gambis Royal Family were extremely tight, making it impossible to fund the construction of both internal and external intelligence networks simultaneously. The choice of which to prioritize put Williams in a difficult position.

Deep down, Williams currently only wanted to secure his position as Regent and realize his political ambitions. Until the dust settled, he did not want any changes in the domestic situation, especially regarding the attitude of the York family.

“Margaretta, in two more years, Edward can inherit the throne. I trust that Queen Catherine does not wish for any mishaps to occur. Am I not right?” Williams stared into Margaretta’s eyes and said slowly, “Our greatest crisis right now is the Dodor and the Naville people joining forces. Therefore, for the next two years, Night Owl is not to infiltrate the Randell Fief. In two years, I will support your operation!”

Margaretta silently bowed to Williams. Just as she turned to leave, he called her back.

“Where is Victor now?”

“At the latest, the Viscount should arrive in the Royal Capital this evening,” Margaretta said, turning back.

“Some people taught Victor his courtly etiquette… please ensure they stay far away from Viscount Victor!” Williams said with a half-smile.

Margaretta nodded and left the reception room.

Williams let out a long breath, stood up, and walked to the crystal window. Gazing at the snow-covered scenery outside, he said, “Walus, there is one thing I am most curious about right now.”

“What is it that you wish to know, Your Highness?”

“A fellow with such an awkward personality… where will he stay tonight?” Williams laughed heartily. “Marquess Sophia’s estate? The York family’s manor? Or the Briatte family’s villa? Surely he won’t be staying in an inn the whole time, right?”

Walus thought for a moment and couldn’t help but laugh as well.

Chapter 217: Entering the City

In the afternoon, Victor’s caravan arrived at the outskirts of Blinor City.

The last month of the Season of Water was a time of heavy, swirling snow. The entire city and the surrounding wilderness were already cloaked in silver. The thick snow kept most creatures huddled in their warm dens, unwilling to move, but Blinor City was another scene entirely.

Before they had even entered the Royal Capital, the wide roads were already clear of snow. Many able-bodied men in sheepskin coats, carrying brooms and iron shovels, patrolled the roadsides. Whenever they found something amiss with the road surface, they would promptly repair it.

“So many people,” Alice sighed, leaning against the window.

Victor poked his head out for a look. There weren’t actually that many people, but compared to the western fiefs where the roads were buried in snow, this place was certainly bustling with life.

“Have you never been to the Royal Capital before?” Victor wrapped an arm around Alice’s slender waist and casually pulled the thick curtains shut. The carriage was comfortable and warm, but with the window open in such a snowstorm, Victor could still feel a biting chill.

Elina scooted closer and said, “This is our first time in the Royal Capital. When our family made its Westward Migration, we passed through Duke Wellington’s duchy.”

“Blinor is very prosperous and densely populated. There are over sixty thousand registered residents, and at least a hundred thousand unregistered freemen—more than the entire population of the Centaur Hills. The greatest fear of Blinor’s Municipal Official is a large-scale migration. Once refugees pass through the Royal Capital, most of them are unwilling to leave.” Victor took a cup of hot coffee from Judy and took a pleasant sip.

“Judy, you’ve been to the Royal Capital, haven’t you?” Victor smiled at her.

Judy hesitated for a moment, then said softly, “I have. But that was a long time ago.”

“Victor, are you very familiar with Blinor?” Elina asked from the side.

“I lived in Blinor for six years, but I never truly got to know this city.” As he spoke, Victor pulled a small bell cord. A moment later, the voice of Gru, the Captain of the Personal Guard, came from outside the window. “My lord, what are your orders?”

“Inform Knight Sheen up front that we’re taking the South Gate,” Victor said.

“Yes, my lord.” Gru acknowledged the order and ran toward the front of the caravan.

After the caravan entered the central part of the kingdom, Knight Sheen of the Royal Capital’s Ministry of Internal Affairs and his squad of knights had taken over security duties from Earl Erolt. He had no objection to Victor’s request.

At the fork in the road, the caravan turned south. Judy asked in surprise, “Darling, why not take the West Gate?”

“Sister Judy, is there a difference?” Alice asked curiously. Having spent the journey sharing a carriage and serving the same man, the three women had come to call each other sisters.

Judy smiled gently and explained, “Blinor’s North Gate connects to Aerie Fortress and is usually only for military passage. The West Gate leads directly to the inner city and is the main entrance for the royal family and Nobles. The East Gate connects to the outer district and is for caravans. Anyone can use the South Gate, but to go that way, we have to pass through the freemen’s shantytowns.”

“Only by entering through the South Gate can we see the entirety of Blinor,” Victor added.

The caravan moved forward slowly. After half an hour, the sounds from outside grew louder. Victor opened the window and saw that they were now driving through the shantytowns.

The shantytowns were the residential area for refugees and had always been known for being dirty, chaotic, and shabby. Fortunately, with the heavy snow cover and freezing temperatures, the caravan detected no unpleasant odors as it passed through. The low shanties were wrapped in white snow, which gave them an elegant and clean appearance. When the residents saw the noble caravan approaching from a distance, the bold and clever ones hurried to clear the road and maintain order, bowing fawningly toward Victor’s carriage. The timid and cautious ones hid behind their shacks, watching from afar, only gathering in small groups to discuss what was happening after the caravan had passed. A dozen or so bewildered children followed behind the caravan, curious to see what was going on, but were quickly shushed and called back by their parents.

In truth, only a minority of people were watching the noble caravan. Victor noticed that every so often, there was a relief aid station set up by the Church, and most people were busy queuing to receive the Church’s charity.

The third and fourth months of the Season of Water were the rainiest and snowiest time of the year. Farmers who had toiled all year would stay cooped up at home, enjoying their two most idle months. But for the freemen who lived by their labor, these two months were the hardest to endure, as they could find no work and the weather was frigid. Fortunately, the Church conducted relief and charity work at this time every year to help the laboring freemen survive the severe cold. This relief activity was known as winter relief.

The winter relief was only for unregistered freemen, and they could receive alms whether they were rich or poor. By custom, each person received half a piece of black bread daily, with a small piece of salted meat every ten days. The old, weak, women, and children who lacked winter clothes could receive a sheepskin coat. Of course, the winter clothing had to be returned to the Church in the end. Most commoners would never dare misappropriate the Church’s property. If the temporarily issued clothing was stolen or lost, they would find a way to compensate the Church for its loss. As for those who dared to harbor crooked thoughts, they would be beaten to death by the faithful before a Sacred Warrior even had to lift a finger.

The winter relief was still in progress, and the lines of freemen were very long. Those who received their alms would first kneel in the snow in pious gratitude. After accepting the black bread, they would thank the Church attendants profusely, their faces beaming with happy smiles. This heartfelt joy was extremely infectious. The Church attendants and Sacred Warriors distributing the aid also wore sincere smiles. They would pat a child’s head, support an elder’s arm, give a polite nod to the women, or clap an able-bodied man on the shoulder, laughing heartily after exchanging a few jokes.

“The Church’s benevolence is truly admirable. Victor, let’s donate a larger offering when we go to the Central Cathedral to pray,” Judy said softly, moved by the heartwarming scene before her.

Victor just smiled. The nobles, though arrogant, were not without compassion, but they only saw the surface of the Church’s charity and failed to perceive the deeper realities.

It was a fact that the Church protected the common people, but as a military group and charitable organization that relied on faith for its existence, the Church also inevitably suppressed the development of the commoners. The fact that the freemen outside Blinor City had to rely on relief aid to survive the winter after a full year of hard labor was certainly related to the Church. If the common believers were the foundation of the Church’s survival, then hunger, war, and cold were the essential conditions for the Church to reap faith and strengthen its power.

Victor saw this clearly as an outsider, but there was no need to proclaim it. His biggest problem now was that he had risen too quickly and had too few vassals. Lacking a solid ruling foundation, the faster the freemen population in the Randell Fief developed, the greater the possibility that the fruits of their labor would be seized by the Church. This included the freemen caravans. Victor was observing the lives of the freemen simply to find a suitable solution.

“Judy, does the Briatte family keep a census of the freemen in your fief?” Victor asked.

“I only know that the family’s registered population is about sixty thousand. No one ever counted those refugees. When the Ant-man plague broke out, they all fled.” A faint blush appeared on Judy’s face. She rarely concerned herself with the administration of the fief, let alone the affairs of the freemen.

“Darling, what is a ‘registered population’?” Elina couldn’t help but ask.

Seeing Alice prick up her ears as well, Victor asked with a strange look, “Didn’t you two learn how to manage a fief in Black Fortress?”

The twin sisters shook their heads in unison, their expressions a little unnatural. They had been prepared by the York family as personal handmaidens for a Great Knight, meant to bear children and manage a castle, but explicitly forbidden from interfering in the internal affairs of a fief, lest the York family’s efforts backfire. However, Elina and Alice could clearly sense that Victor preferred capable assistants, yet their talents in this area were inferior even to Lilia’s.

“The ‘registered population’ is a term used by the Church. Regardless of whether a fief has encountered a disaster, the local lords must ensure the livelihood of their registered population, while the Church will undertake the relief work for the unregistered population. Generally speaking, the children of vassals and subjects are part of the fief’s registered population. The rest of the freemen are considered refugees. Refugees come today and leave tomorrow; even the Church has no way of an exact count,” Judy explained, shooting Victor a bewitching glare. His last question had been a bit difficult for her.

“The number of refugees is indeed difficult to count,” Victor said nonchalantly. “When disaster strikes, a lord must protect his registered subjects, while the clergy of the Church will organize the refugees for evacuation. From what I know, Gambis has a registered population of nine hundred thousand, and the number of refugees is at least five hundred thousand, perhaps even more.”

“So many people?! What about our Randell Fief?” Alice asked.

Victor smiled without a word, but inwardly he was quite frustrated. The Randell Fief had a registered population of less than two thousand; the other seven thousand or so were considered refugees. This was a clear sign of the House of Randell’s weak foundation, making it inferior to even a hereditary barony.

Seeing that Victor had no intention of answering, the three women didn’t press the matter. The caravan continued forward, and the scenery changed again. Shops appeared on both sides of the road, and two-story wooden buildings, some even built with green bricks, replaced the low shanties. The pedestrians on the road were much better in both complexion and dress than those they had seen earlier. When they saw Victor’s caravan, they would doff their hats in greeting, appearing quite well-mannered.

Judy’s almond eyes widened in disbelief. “Is this really the shantytown?” she said.

“Is it even more prosperous than Wildwillow City’s commercial district?” Victor continued, “Few nobles ever set foot in the world of the freemen, so we know little about them. However, among them are the intelligent and the foolish, the diligent and the lazy. There are also many outstanding merchants, artisans, and artists. Some of them naturally become very wealthy, perhaps even richer than many vassals. So, if we make good use of the refugees, they can make our fiefs more prosperous.”

Judy grew thoughtful. When Victor had demanded that Wildwillow City recall its population and take in refugees, she had said nothing, but she had been somewhat resistant in her heart. Today, having seen the prosperous side of Blinor’s shantytowns, Judy began to re-examine her own views.

The York family could not directly interfere in Bryat’s fief, and Victor lacked enough talented people to control the situation in Wildwillow City. He could only influence the Briatte family’s decisions from the top down, through Judy, to realize his plans for a commercial corridor and population growth.

Although changing the观念 of a noblewoman who had been pampered since birth was not something that could be done overnight, as long as she was willing to cooperate sincerely and absorb refugees and manage the fief according to their agreement, many troubles could be avoided. This was the reason Victor had brought Judy to tour the shantytowns.

Forty-five minutes later, the caravan finally entered the South Gate. The city guards had long been notified, and upon seeing Knight Sheen’s squad from the Ministry of Internal Affairs, they immediately cleared the way.

The layout of Blinor’s outer district was basically the same as Black Fortress Town’s. Victor was very familiar with it and quickly lost interest, leaving only the Elina sisters to gaze excitedly at the scenery outside the carriage.

The outer district was very large, but thankfully the roads were wide and orderly. Even so, it took the caravan thirty minutes to reach the gate of the inner city. After tidying his attire, Victor stepped out of the carriage with his women. When Alice saw their caravan turning toward the stables of the outer district, she couldn’t help but ask, “Are we walking?”

“Alice… oh, beautiful lady, of course you don’t have to walk. It’s just that the roads in the inner city are rather narrow, so we need to change carriages here.” Knight Sheen, truly unable to tell which of the identical beautiful sisters was which, could only awkwardly go arrange for the special carriages.

Blinor’s special carriages were small and exquisite, able to accommodate three people at most. Victor rode with the Elina sisters, while Judy had a carriage to herself. After the carriages, drawn by ponies, entered the inner city, the sisters finally understood why they had to switch.

The streets of the inner city were only five meters wide. The bluestone pavement was very smooth, worn with deep ruts from the passage of countless carriage wheels. The carriage they were riding in was now traveling in these ruts. The buildings on either side of the road were built of gray stone and looked quite grand, if a bit crowded. Few pedestrians greeted their carriage; only when their gazes met would they give a slight nod.

Seeing the Elina sisters nodding so frequently that the smiles on their faces grew stiff, Victor couldn’t help but chuckle. “Stop looking at the sides. Aren’t you tired? Few nobles ride in the special carriages in the inner city precisely because you have to constantly nod in greeting.”

“How do the nobles of the Royal Capital usually travel?” Elina asked.

“The great nobles ride in enclosed carriages. As for those below an Earl…” Victor sighed. “Barons are as common as dogs, and viscounts are everywhere you look.”

“Pfft.” The Elina sisters leaned their heads on Victor’s shoulders, shaking with laughter.

As was customary, Victor first paid a visit to Blinor’s Central Cathedral. With Victor’s current status, he did not yet have the qualification for Archbishop Lazarus to receive him personally. So, the four of them, under the guidance of a Church Father, offered some hypocritical prayers and donated a thousand Gold Sol as an offering before leisurely departing.

As they stepped out of the cathedral’s main door, the sky was already growing dark. Knight Sheen came forward and asked, “Lord Viscount Randell, Lady Judy, where do you plan to stay tonight? I can send men to escort you.”

Victor said to Judy, “Judy, you’ll stay at your family’s villa tonight.”

Judy nodded obediently. As the current wielder of power in her family, she had to stay at the family villa, no matter how one looked at it.

“Knight Sheen, please send men to escort Lady Judy to the Briatte family villa.”

After Judy left, the Elina sisters and Knight Sheen all looked at Victor, awaiting his decision.

Victor could clearly sense many other pairs of eyes watching him from the shadows. If he chose to stay at the York family’s residence, it would be as good as confirming his status as a male pet, and by morning he would be the laughingstock of the noble circles. Victor might not care about his reputation, but he could not afford to weaken his influence. Therefore, he had no intention of staying at the York family’s manor.

Victor had been unwilling to interact with Sophia before, afraid of revealing his weaknesses. Now, as a Silver-rank Wind Walk Archer with thirty Alchemical militia at his side, he had a firm upper hand over Sophia. Besides, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t slept with that woman before.

“To the Marquess’s estate.”

“Ah…” Knight Sheen asked nervously, “Which Marquess?”

Victor said irritably, “Which Marquess’s estate do you think? The Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence, of course!”

“Oh… Lord Viscount, please get in the carriage.” Knight Sheen scrambled awkwardly to summon the attendants.

And so, Victor, swaggering triumphantly, took his two mistresses to see his proper wife.

Chapter 218: The Return After the Disappearance

The Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence was located in the southeastern corner of the inner city. It covered an area of over four hundred mu and was considered a top-tier mansion in the Nobles’ District, where every inch of land was worth a fortune.

The Marchioness’s residence was built facing the street. It was four stories and eighteen meters high, constructed mainly of sturdy granite with a façade of precious white-glazed rock. From a distance, it looked like a jade castle. However, this magnificent structure was merely the face of the estate. Behind it lay a beautiful courtyard and a sprawling complex of buildings. That was the main residential area, and only guests of distinguished status were ever invited inside.

When Victor alighted from his carriage, a dozen or so attendants were already waiting by the entrance to the residence for his arrival.

“Lord Viscount Randell, welcome home.” A properly dressed older woman curtsied, and the other attendants bowed to Victor in unison.

With a slight whir from the X-3, memories of the little Baron surfaced clearly in Victor’s mind. The older woman before him was named Helen, the Steward of the Marchioness’s residence and Sophia’s confidante and handmaiden. Helen and Sophia were as close as mother and daughter. She was kind and gentle-natured, and all the guards and attendants of the estate respected her deeply. The little Baron had lived in the residence for three years, and Helen had doted on him, caring for him as meticulously as a mother. Their relationship was extremely close, and he had always called her Aunt Helen.

“Aunt Helen, it’s been a long time,” Victor said with a smile and a nod.

Helen froze for a moment, the excitement in her eyes instantly dimming. Victor’s voice and appearance were no different from before, but his temperament and bearing had changed completely. There wasn’t a trace of formal training in his gestures; instead, he exuded a natural elegance—the maturity and confidence of a leader. But the look of former affection and reverence was gone from his cool eyes, replaced by an air of indifference and distance. Helen knew what Victor had been through and understood that his feelings for Sophia had changed, but seeing a former family member become such a stranger still filled her with a sense of sorrow.

Victor had sorted through all of the little Baron’s memories, but he remained emotionally detached from them. Although he noticed the shift in Helen’s mood, Victor couldn’t feel any empathy. He turned to a middle-aged man in armor and said, “Tutor Monton, we meet again.”

“Viscount Victor, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” Although the middle-aged man’s words were warm, he subconsciously performed a Knight’s salute.

Monton was a guard knight of the Marchioness’s residence. His status in the estate was far higher than the little Baron’s had been, and he had even instructed the boy in swordsmanship and combat, making him Victor’s swordsmanship tutor in a sense. Monton never expected that when they met again, the former outcast would have become a major figure capable of stirring the kingdom’s political landscape. Victor’s current power, status, and personal strength all inspired a sense of awe in him.

Victor smiled and turned to introduce his personal handmaidens. The Elina sisters were sweet and charming. Seeing Victor address the older woman as “Aunt” and the middle-aged knight as “Tutor,” they curtsied to each in turn, their attitude quite respectful. After a few pleasantries, Knight Sheen took his leave.

After the squad from the Ministry of Internal Affairs departed, Victor led his personal handmaidens and guard towards the inner residence. An attendant was about to block Gru and the others but was stopped by a stern glare from Monton. Victor smiled nonchalantly and remarked, “The Marchioness’s residence has become much quieter, yet there are many new faces.”

“Fewer people means things are more relaxed around here,” Monton said with a sigh.

Three years ago, the residence had been filled with the Queen’s spies and confidants, who suppressed Sophia’s loyal subordinates until they could barely breathe. Only the little Baron had been oblivious to it all. After Sophia turned the tables, Catherine had no choice but to compromise. The personnel she had placed were either dead or withdrawn, and the Marchioness’s residence had undergone another great reshuffling.

Victor now had a higher perspective. The power struggle between Sophia and Catherine was a major event in Gambis high society, but compared to his own troubles, it was hardly worth mentioning. What Victor found strange was why Sophia hadn’t appeared yet. Although their intimate relationship had been fractured, the Centaur Hills, which Victor represented, was an extremely important trade partner for Sophia. For that reason alone, she shouldn’t have been so cold.

Sophia didn’t show up, and Victor didn’t ask. The group proceeded directly into the inner residence.

After settling his guards and servants, Victor, attended by the twin sisters, first enjoyed a comfortable hot bath. By the time he was dressed, Helen was already waiting outside the door.

“Victor, dinner is ready.”

Victor gave Helen a faint look and smiled. “Let’s go to the study first. You should have something to tell me.” With that, Victor led the Elina sisters and four Alchemical militiamen towards Sophia’s study. Seeing this, Helen sighed, whispered a few instructions to a nearby attendant, and followed behind Victor.

Sophia’s study was simple and clear, its luxury hidden in its understated design. On the wall behind the master’s seat hung the mounted head of a sabertooth tiger, a trophy from a beast Sophia had killed with her own hands. In Victor’s memory, the study hadn’t changed at all, except that its master was missing.

Victor sat down in the master’s chair behind the desk. After Knight Monton entered, he asked, “Where is Sophia?”

Both Monton and Helen had difficult expressions. Victor said, “These are all people I trust. You can speak freely.”

Hearing Victor’s words, the four Alchemical militiamen remained expressionless, while the Elina sisters smiled faintly. They didn’t know that no matter what trouble Sophia was in, Victor planned to toss it to Sylvia. He had no desire to get entangled in unnecessary problems.

Helen suddenly began to sob. “Victor… Sophia is missing! I’m begging you… for the sake of your marriage, please help her!”

Victor was greatly shocked. When Helen had invited him to dinner without mentioning Sophia, he had guessed that she might not be at the residence, but he never imagined that Sophia had actually gone missing!

“Aunt Helen, don’t worry. Take your time and tell me what happened.”

Helen was already sobbing uncontrollably. Monton sighed and said, “Victor, during last year’s Season of Water, Lady Sophia personally led a caravan to the Teutonic Duchy to attend the barbarians’ biennial market. Nominally, she was there to trade with the barbarians, but her actual purpose was to escort a barbarian singer back to her tribe. This would enhance the Merchant Association’s prestige among the barbarian tribes.”

“Normally, a round trip for a caravan to the Teutonic Duchy takes ten months at most, but this time…” Monton paused, his voice turning hoarse. “The caravan took a full twelve months just to send a message back. For some unknown reason, Lady Sophia took Gelan and went straight into the Terrel Mountains. The caravan waited for her for a full two months, but she never returned. In the end, the caravan followed her prior instructions and left the Teutonic Duchy. Since then, our shops in the Teutonic Duchy send a Blood-eye Crow every month to contact us. It has been two months now, and there is still no news of her.”

Victor’s mood grew heavy. If something had happened to Sophia, his plans for the Centaur Hills would face a major upheaval.

The new agropastoral system had allowed the Centaur Hills to recover quickly, but it would take at least another two years to achieve self-sufficiency. Before then, the green wheat provided by Sophia was the most important food supply for the Centaur Hills. The plan to absorb refugees and replenish the population was entirely dependent on the trade of Purple Cane wine for green wheat.

According to the Lord’s Law, Victor could inherit the Merchant Association, but reality was not so simple. The royal family of Gambis would never allow the association to fall into the hands of the York family, and other kingdoms would not stand by and watch it happen either; they would refuse to deal with a merchant association controlled by the York family. It was even more impossible for Victor to abandon the Alchemy Tower to inherit the association. The most likely outcome was that the royal family would make concessions to the York family to ensure a basic food supply for the Centaur Hills, Soren would inherit the Marquess’s title, the Merchant Association would lose its neutrality and meet its end, and its accumulated wealth would be swallowed whole by the Auguste family. The food security of the Centaur Hills would be in the hands of the royal family, and Victor’s plan to absorb more people would most likely be shelved, or at least severely curtailed.

“Aunt Helen, please don’t worry. Sophia is a Silver-rank Great Knight; she should be fine,” Victor comforted her first, then turned to Monton. “Where is that caravan now?”

“The people in that caravan are all Lady Sophia’s trusted subordinates. The caravan’s steward, Knight Aimee, is masquerading as Lady Sophia and has announced that they are going to the Kingdom of Sus to recruit people. After unloading their goods in a border town, they headed directly east to the Kingdom of Sus,” Monton said.

“Very good!” Victor breathed a sigh of relief and said gravely to the Elina sisters, “This matter must not be spread to anyone!”

“Yes!” the twin sisters answered in unison.

Gambis needed a neutral merchant association, but the royal family coveted its immense wealth even more. If they learned of Sophia’s disappearance, they might very well declare her dead. At that point, even if Sophia wasn’t dead, she would be.

Helen and Knight Monton could both see the danger involved, which was why they had confessed to Victor and asked for help. No one could rescue Sophia from the hands of the barbarians, but Sylvia could ensure Sophia wouldn’t fall victim to the royal family’s schemes.

“I will write a letter to Her Highness Sylvia and ask her to intervene. For now, all we can do is try to delay for as long as possible,” Victor said with a nod.

Monton hesitated for a moment, then stammered, “My lord… the Merchant Association has received an invitation from Prince Andre of the Kingdom of Borea. Prince Andre is inviting Lady Sophia to be a guest in the Kingdom of Borea…”

The expression on Victor’s face instantly became quite colorful.

——————————————

Teutonic Duchy, Moon Bear City.

It was early morning. The sky was a hazy gray, and a biting north wind whipped snowflakes as large as the palm of your hand across the land. A dozen tall, burly soldiers, wrapped in thick bearskin cloaks, patrolled the city gate.

“This damn snow! It’s been falling for a day and a night, and it’s still coming down!” A young soldier tucked his spear under his arm and blew hard into his gloves. Once they were a little warmer, he raised his hand to brush the ice from his eyebrows.

“That damn Nato, still not here to relieve us!” The young soldier pulled the scarf around his neck back over his mouth and nose and grumbled to the soldier captain beside him, “Chief, once we’re off duty today, how about we go to the tavern for a few drinks?”

“It’s the crack of dawn, what’s with the drinking! Don’t you have a family to support?” the Captain scolded.

“Chief, the Purple Cane wine brought by the Stag Merchant Association is selling like crazy. If we don’t go drink some today, I’m afraid we’ll have to wait another few months,” another soldier said with a grin.

“Exactly. Compared to Purple Cane wine, Juniper wine is like horse piss. Let’s go to the Fat Stag Tavern later, gather around the fire, warm up some Purple Cane wine, and order half a roasted moose… Tsk, tsk, that’s the life…”

“Right! Right! We’ll all chip in and have a good drink.”

The soldiers chatted excitedly, and even the Captain secretly swallowed.

The north was bitterly cold, and the people of the Teutonic Duchy were fond of drink. Juniper wine was originally the best cheap liquor in Moon Bear City, but the new Purple Cane wine tasted much better. The Stag Merchant Association had brought four hundred barrels this time, selling one hundred and fifty to Moon Bear City and the rest to the barbarians. Of those one hundred and fifty barrels, the lord took eighty, leaving only seventy to flow into the market. Even though Purple Cane wine was four times the price of Juniper wine, it still sold very well. To prevent a rush on the wine, the city lord had even issued a special order limiting each person to two large cups of Purple Cane wine at the tavern per day. Even so, the supply was almost gone.

“That Marchioness from the Stag Merchant Association is so beautiful. If I could get just one kiss from her, I’d give up twenty years of my life,” the young soldier said, already sounding drunk before he’d had a drop.

“Shut your mouth!” the Captain warned in a low voice. “If Lord Tager’ao hears you, he’ll cut out your tongue!”

Tager’ao was the heir of the Moon Bear family. Ever since the Marchioness from the Stag Merchant Association had visited Moon Bear City, he had been constantly hovering around the stunningly beautiful woman. A servant had once been slightly improper in front of the Marchioness and was beaten half to death by Tager’ao. Yet the Marchioness herself remained aloof to the heir’s advances, and Tager’ao dared not overstep his bounds in the slightest.

The young soldier shivered. When he saw some of his colleagues’ schadenfreude-filled expressions, beads of cold sweat actually appeared on his forehead.

Just as the young soldier was about to beg for forgiveness, an older soldier shouted, “It looks like someone is coming!”

In the hazy white snow, a slender, graceful figure was walking towards Moon Bear City.

“A woman? Something seems… off.”

The Captain strained his eyes. Through the swirling snow, he saw a woman wearing a beast-skin skirt. Although he couldn’t see her face, her swaying gait held a mesmerizing charm and elegance.

When several towering figures appeared behind the woman, the Captain finally realized what was wrong. The snow outside the city was deep enough to swallow a man’s thigh, yet that woman was walking on top of it. However, the Captain had no time to be amazed, because the few people behind her were nearly as tall as she was even while sinking into the thick snow—they were barbarians! Most terrifying of all, more barbarians appeared behind them, nearly three hundred in total.

“Ring the alarm bell! Quick! Raise the drawbridge!” The Captain pulled down his scarf and roared.

Moon Bear City never forbade barbarians from entering, but that didn’t mean it allowed several hundred to enter at once. These powerful non-humans, each comparable to a knight, were enough to turn Moon Bear City upside down.

Dong! Dong! Dong!

The deep toll of the bell echoed across the city walls. Squads of soldiers quickly ran out from the barracks. Two groups of brawny soldiers strained at the winches, and the drawbridge slowly began to rise. The barbarian host was still one hundred meters away. The Captain finally let out a breath of relief.

Just when everyone thought they were safe, a barbarian swiftly moved past the woman in the lead. With a swing of both his arms, two black shadows flew over a hundred meters, letting out a piercing shriek as they shot straight towards the gate. The iron chains, as thick as a man’s arm, snapped on impact, and the drawbridge, now without support, crashed heavily to the ground.

Bang!

A cloud of snow billowed into the air, and the soldiers turning the winches were thrown into a heap. After the snow cloud settled, the Captain looked down. He saw two throwing axes embedded deep in the hard city wall, and the woman was now standing at the edge of the drawbridge.

This woman was dressed entirely in the fashion of a barbarian. Below her beast-skin skirt, two well-proportioned, slender legs were exposed to the bone-chilling air. Her bare, jade-like feet stood on the snow, appearing even more crystalline than the white ground around them. Beneath her short purple hair was a devastatingly beautiful face. An intoxicating gaze flowed from her amethyst-like eyes, and when her tender red lips curled up slightly, a soft, enchanting voice carried up to the city gate.

“I am Sophia Wimbledon, the Marchioness. Would you please open the gates?”

Chapter 219: Ambition

The snow, which had fallen for two days and one night, finally stopped. The long-awaited sun shyly peeked through a gap in the clouds, casting a brilliant glow that gilded the white world in a layer of gold.

The snow had stopped, but the wind had not. The north wind, carrying flurries of snow and ice, howled and raged through Moon Bear City. At this moment, even the sunlight seemed to bow to the bitter wind’s tyranny, feeling especially cold.

Natalya breathed out a puff of warm air and tightened the cloak around her, walking at an unhurried pace down the deserted street. When the sun melted the snow and ice, the weather would turn exceptionally cold, and the residents of Moon Bear City would often hole up in their warm, thatched houses, rarely venturing out.

The packed snow crunched under Natalya’s leather boots. Before she knew it, she had arrived before a set of barracks. The Teutonic Duchy’s soldiers had already yielded the place to a group of uninvited guests.

Just as she passed through the main gate, a massive dark figure came flying toward her. Natalya sidestepped, and the figure slammed heavily into the snow, sliding several meters.

It was a bare-chested barbarian. His arms were thicker than a normal person’s thighs, and rock-hard muscles formed a colossal frame eight feet tall, covered in mottled scars. Tattoos were etched across his rugged face, exuding an air of untamed wildness. He flipped over and rose to his feet, letting out a wild howl like an enraged giant rhino, and charged his opponent once more.

Thud.

The barbarian was thrown back again. The one who had knocked him down was a strong female barbarian. Standing a full two heads taller than Natalya, the female barbarian was shouting something, and the surrounding barbarians roared with frenzied excitement. Another tall barbarian then jumped out and began to grapple with her.

These barracks were now the barbarians’ encampment. Several hundred fierce and formidable barbarians had gathered in the open grounds. The men and women were in equal number, and there were many underage children who still stood over two meters tall on average. The vast majority of the male barbarians wore only a pair of beast-hide shorts, their bronze skin covered in scars and tattoos. The bone-chilling wind seemed to have no effect on them; some were even cradling wine barrels, fast asleep in the snow.

Natalya noticed that the tattoos on these barbarians were all different, indicating they came from different tribes—and all from tribes within the Terrel Mountains, because the descendants of barbarians exiled to the foot of the mountains were not qualified to have tattoos on their bodies.

For thousands of years, humans knew little of the barbarians on the Terrel Mountains, but the exiled ones had left a deep impression.

Barbarians were tall, strong, and incredibly ferocious, with physiques and wills as tough as solid rock. They never feared any challenge, whether from a single opponent or a group. In battle, barbarians showed no mercy. They swung heavy weapons and charged into the enemy ranks, giving and receiving countless wounds, which they wore as badges of honor. Thanks to their large frames and formidable strength, barbarians could use almost any weapon to overwhelm their opponents in close combat. They particularly favored dual-wielding heavy weapons to instantly shred their enemies with a flurry of violent attacks.

Before the Moon Bear family pioneered this land, humans had clashed with the barbarians. This vast tundra had no powerful monsters, so humans began to herd moose here. But moose happened to be the barbarians’ primary prey, and conflicts often arose between the two sides, until a Pinnacle Knight was slain in a direct duel with a barbarian Berserker. After that, the humans had no choice but to withdraw.

Seven hundred years ago, the Moon Bear family attempted to befriend the barbarians. By raising moose and providing meat to the barbarian fortified villages, they gained a foothold on this tundra and formed a unique symbiotic relationship. It was precisely because the Moon Bear family had the barbarians’ support that the Sasan Empire adopted a policy of appeasement toward the Teutonic Duchy, allowing them to maintain a great deal of autonomy. Humans were also able to reacquaint themselves with this resilient race.

The strength and Physique of barbarian warriors were second only to the 2.8-meter-tall male Ogres, but their desire and skill for combat far surpassed that of an ordinary Ogre. Fortunately, barbarians had little interest in frail opponents, so they could coexist peacefully with humans. Moreover, the vast majority of barbarians were unwilling to leave the Terrel Mountains. The barbarians living in the Teutonic Fief were all criminals exiled from the mountain tribes, and they constantly dreamed of returning to the Holy Mountain.

As interactions deepened, humans discovered several unique medicinal herbs on the Terrel Mountains that could be used to create cleansing potions for awakening a knight’s bloodline and vigor potions for restoring Aura. The merchant associations of various families flocked to the Teutonic Duchy, hoping to establish trade relations with the barbarians.

Barbarians didn’t need money and had limited demands for food. They loved strong liquor, shields, armor, and refined iron weapons—things the Sasan Empire happened to lack. Thus, the top commercial nobility established connections with the barbarians, and the barbarians of the Teutonic Fief hoped to use these goods to regain the approval of the mountain tribes.

Every two years, the mountain tribes would trade with human caravans through the valley tribes, exchanging what they had for what they needed. This was the biennial Teutonic Grand Market.

The mountain tribes did not interact directly with humans; the Moon Bear family was only familiar with the valley tribes. This time, the arrival of several hundred barbarians from the mountain tribes in Moon Bear City had made everyone extremely uneasy.

Natalya walked with light steps toward the main building of the barracks. Although the barbarians were not interested in “skinny” female knights, walking among so many imposing members of another race still made Natalya feel some pressure.

The barracks’ main building was constructed from thick logs, with the gaps filled with clay and plant ash. A corridor ran down the middle, flanked by rooms for officers. The walls of the rooms were hung with thick moose hides, and there was a fire pit in the center of each, making them quite comfortable overall. However, these rooms were now occupied by the barbarian women and children.

Natalya walked down the corridor. At the end was the main building’s meeting room. A female barbarian warrior with a face full of tattoos stood at the door. She stared at the approaching Natalya, somewhat at a loss, but showed no intention of stepping aside. They couldn’t speak each other’s language, and Natalya felt a headache coming on. She wanted to call out for Sophia, but she was afraid of being misunderstood by the female warrior. Just as Natalya was in a bind, she saw a familiar face.

“Gelan!”

Gelan, who was carrying two pails of hot water, cried out happily when she saw Natalya, “Haha! Natalya!”

“Is this hot water for my lord? Let me take it. Can you tell this warrior here to let me in?” Natalya said, taking the two wooden buckets from Gelan.

Gelan said seriously, “Raegzo isn’t a warrior. She’s an Urus.”

“Urus?”

“Yes! Master is an Urus now too,” Gelan said with profound reverence.

Seeing that Gelan and Natalya knew each other, the female barbarian warrior took the initiative to move aside. Natalya didn’t have time to ask Gelan for details and went straight into the room.

The meeting room was filled with steam. Sophia was lying in a huge bathtub and said lazily, “Natalya, what’s the situation outside?”

Natalya poured the hot water into the tub and said, “The Moon Bear family has prepared forty cartloads of supplies and one hundred moose for us. All of it is a free gift. They only hope that you will leave as soon as possible.”

“Tager’ao wants to kick me out? It seems I really have gotten ugly,” Sophia said wistfully, gently swishing her long, snow-white legs in the water.

Natalya glanced at Sophia’s short purple hair and the two pink scars on her chest and abdomen, shaking her head. “Your hair will grow back. You’re a Silver-rank Great Knight; it won’t be long before those scars disappear too. How could you have gotten ugly? I’m curious, how did you get injured? And where is your armor?”

Sophia pouted and said, “Those barbarians said I’m the ugliest Urus. That bunch of muscle-headed bastards!”

“What’s an Urus?” Natalya asked curiously.

“Someone who has single-handedly hunted a Snow Monster or an Earth Dragon. That’s what the barbarians call an Urus. And I killed a Snow Monster,” Sophia said nonchalantly.

“Sophia! Are you a Gold Knight now?!” Natalya exclaimed in joyful surprise.

The Snow Monster was a unique bear-like monster from the Terrel Mountains. An adult Snow Monster weighed over five thousand pounds and had the ability to breathe frost. The barbarians had once sold the corpse of a Snow Monster at the Teutonic Grand Market. A major merchant association from the Kingdom of Borea had paid a hefty price for it, and after study by the Silver Spire, the Snow Monster was confirmed to be a Gold-rank monster.

Natalya believed that there was no other explanation for Sophia being able to kill a Gold-rank Snow Monster other than having advanced to become a Pinnacle Knight.

“According to barbarian tradition, I am indeed an Urus now. However, barbarian Urus face Snow Monsters in direct combat, while I used a few tricks,” Sophia said, shaking her head with lingering fear. “The one I killed was a juvenile. That monster nearly took my life. My Mithril armor was torn apart by it. Luckily, Snow Monsters aren’t very intelligent. I fought a battle of wits with it for seven days and finally finished it off.”

“Intelligence is a form of strength. No matter how you look at it, you killed a Gold-rank monster,” Natalya said sincerely.

“Killed one Snow Monster and brought back a whole group of troublemakers!” Sophia grumbled, sinking into the water and refusing to surface for a long time.

Natalya knew Sophia could still hear her in the water and asked directly, “My lord, what exactly is going on?”

After a while, Sophia’s head popped out of the bathtub. She said, vexed, “That day, the elder of Gelan’s tribe invited me to the Terrel Mountains. I thought I could establish a relationship with the mountain tribes, but I never expected their Grand Elder to demand I first undergo a trial before they would speak with me. After the trial, I somehow became a barbarian Urus, and all these barbarians followed me down the mountain.”

Natalya’s heart began to pound. Barbarians had tough physiques and immense strength. Their Berserkers were even better than ordinary knights, their Weapon Masters were on par with Great Knights, and an Urus definitely had Gold-rank combat power. If these several hundred barbarians were all Sophia’s followers, the Wimbledon Merchant Association would instantly become a leading power in the human kingdoms.

“My lord, what about the strength of these barbarians you’ve brought with you?” As soon as Natalya spoke, she was startled by how hoarse and dry her own voice sounded.

Sophia turned to look at Natalya with a slight, knowing smile. “There are three hundred and eighty-nine of these barbarians in total. One hundred and ninety-two are underage children. Among the adult barbarian warriors, there are fifty-six Berserkers, twenty-two Weapon Masters, four War-chanters, and three Urus.”

Natalya’s face instantly turned pale. She felt a chill run through her, as if she had been plunged into an ice cellar. Sophia said faintly, “Now you understand. We have no ability to control this power. One wrong move, and we’ll be crushed to pieces.”

Ever since the major merchant associations began trading with the valley tribes, some barbarians born in the Teutonic Duchy would follow caravans to venture into the human kingdoms. They were brave, tenacious, hardy, wild-tempered yet honest and trustworthy, making them excellent laborers and enforcers. Many merchant associations liked to recruit barbarian followers, and Sophia herself had eight barbarian warriors under her command. But barbarians were, after all, a powerful non-human race. They never intermarried with humans and could not fully integrate into human society. Therefore, the major powers of the human kingdoms were wary of this race.

A successful merchant association had to remain neutral and could not possess an overly powerful armed force. With so many barbarian warriors suddenly appearing by Sophia’s side, let alone the problem of how to control them, the reactions of the major powers alone would be enough to tear the merchant association apart.

The Moon Bear family’s attitude was the best example. They wished Sophia would take the barbarians away immediately. Under such circumstances, what trade relations could there be? Moreover, there were almost no elderly among these barbarians; apart from the children, they were all men and women of childbearing age. This looked exactly like a full-scale tribal migration. Yet what human kingdom would allow barbarians to live and multiply within its territory?

If a conflict were to arise, and Sophia couldn’t restrain these berserk warriors, the Wimbledon Merchant Association would be the first to be crushed.

“Natalya, you don’t have to be so nervous,” Sophia said with a smile. “These barbarians are not my followers. The barbarian Grand Elder has asked me to take these people to the Southern Continent. Once the task is complete, Raegzo—that’s the female barbarian Urus outside—will lead one Weapon Master and two Berserkers to become my followers, and they will serve me until they die in battle for me!”

Natalya stared at Sophia, whose eyes were gleaming, and shook her head with a bitter smile. “Sophia, your ambition will be the death of you. you shouldn’t have agreed to the barbarians’ request—”

“I had no choice!” Sophia fell silent for a moment, then said feverishly, “Natalya, do you know? There are countless precious medicinal herbs in the Terrel Mountains. They’re useless to the barbarians, but they are incredibly valuable to us knights! Our previous trade volume is insignificant compared to the reserves of herbs on the mountain! The barbarian Grand Elder has already made a pact with me. As long as we can complete their commission, they will gather the specialties we need and trade directly with us! How many cleansing potions does that represent? How many vigor potions?”

“If I refuse to cooperate, the Grand Elder will just work with another merchant association. I don’t think the Boreans would miss this opportunity. That being the case, why should I give it up?” Sophia’s smile was as beautiful as a blooming flower. She said earnestly, “Trust me, Natalya. We will become the most influential merchant association!”

Natalya nodded and murmured, “You’re right, we can’t refuse. One step forward, one step back, and the association’s situation is completely different…” After saying this, she couldn’t help but ask, “So how do you plan to complete the barbarians’ commission?”

Sophia smiled faintly. “Of course, I’ll first take them to the Kingdom of Borea, then rent their ports and ships to send them to the Southern Continent.”

“The key is how to get there. To reach the Kingdom of Borea, we have to cross the Sasan Empire, the Dodor Kingdom, the Naville Kingdom, the Sus Kingdom, the Eastern Alliance, and finally Borea itself. Will these powers allow the barbarians to pass? Will the Boreans agree?” Natalya asked with a frown.

Sophia raised her elegant eyebrows and retorted, “Who would dare to stop us?”

Natalya was momentarily stunned, then shook her head. “Overpowering others with force is not the way for a merchant association to survive. After we see the barbarians off, we still have to deal with the local lords.”

“You’re right,” Sophia nodded. “That’s why I plan to ask the Church to step in and arrange for our passage.”

“The Church? The Church isn’t fond of other races.”

“So what?” Sophia said slowly and deliberately. “To be honest with you, these barbarians don’t all come from the same tribe, and it wasn’t just one Grand Elder who commissioned me. If the Church doesn’t want a war with all the barbarians, their only choice is to help us send them away. After all, the barbarians are going to the Southern Continent, not invading human territory.”

“Of course, we also have to consider the pride of the local lords. I can lead the barbarians through desolate, wild lands to minimize our impact. At the same time, we can sell some raw materials for potions to the major powers and purchase supplies at high prices. They won’t refuse our goodwill.”

“Right,” Sophia said, standing up from the bathtub, her naked body on full display. She spoke with a serious tone, “Do not reveal the true strength of these barbarians to anyone, to avoid causing unnecessary panic.”

Natalya picked up a camel-hair towel and draped it over Sophia’s shoulders, nodding. “I understand.”

“Let’s not talk about these troublesome things anymore,” Sophia said, stepping out of the tub and reclining on a chaise longue. She closed her eyes and asked lazily, “Did anything happen with the merchant association while I was away?”

“The association’s operations are normal,” Natalya said, hesitating for a moment before continuing softly, “Something major happened in Gambia.”

“Victor publicly shot and killed the Briatte family’s Great Knight, Austin. He is now a Silver-rank archer who has manifested the wind element.” Natalya recounted the entire incident, from the cause and process to the changes in the Kingdom of Gambia, leaving no detail out.

Sophia listened to Natalya’s account without once opening her eyes, but her slightly trembling eyelashes betrayed that her heart was not as calm as it appeared.

“So, my husband is now living in my house with two personal handmaidens? He might even be sleeping in my bed!” Sophia tried to hold it in, but she couldn’t. She sat up in a huff, but when she saw the sympathetic look on Natalya’s face, she couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. She shook her head and sighed, “I never expected little Victor to reach such a level.”

“Let him be. Without his Purple Cane wine, I don’t even know what I would trade with the barbarians,” Sophia said, lying back down languidly. “Anything else?”

“His Highness Andre has invited you to be a guest in the Kingdom of Borea,” Natalya said.

Andre’s handsome face floated into Sophia’s mind. She recalled their interactions in the Royal Capital of Gambia. Sophia had indeed used Andre, and at the time, he had been unaware. After his proposal to Roland was rejected, he had still invited Sophia to visit the Kingdom of Borea, which was, in fact, an ambiguous invitation. However, the affair between Sophia and Catherine had caused such a stir that Andre never sent anyone to contact Sophia again. It was clear he knew he had been used.

Sophia had planned to use the Church’s influence to complete the barbarian’s commission, both to appease the local lords and because she worried Andre would make things difficult for her. Although the barbarians were powerful and unstoppable, crossing the Goldwater River required the cooperation of the Boreans. Otherwise, if their ships sank halfway across, it would all be for nothing.

Sophia hadn’t expected Andre to invite her again, which both startled and delighted her. She was startled because she couldn’t be sure of Andre’s motives and attitude, but as long as it was a public invitation, there would be no embarrassing situations—that was the tacit understanding among nobles. She was delighted because she had just been wondering under what pretext she could go to the Kingdom of Borea, and now the problem was solved.

Deep in Sophia’s heart, there was another urgent desire: she desperately needed an heir.

As the leader of a power, not having an heir meant the members of the organization would lack a sense of belonging and loyalty. With the merchant association on the verge of great success, if Sophia still had no heir, she would be coveted by many other powers. Wasn’t the old Marquess Wimbledon schemed against by the Auguste family precisely because he had no heir?

On the other hand, Sophia had made an agreement with Sylvia, but she had completely neglected to consider Victor’s feelings. Victor was now a Silver-rank Wind Walk Archer, starting to make a name for himself in knightly circles. His first move was to kill a Great Knight—he was utterly ruthless, a completely different person from before.

Sophia didn’t know if Victor still had any feelings for her, nor could she be sure he didn’t hate her. She had to be on guard against him taking revenge. Sophia knew very well that if the two of them fought, she would be at an absolute disadvantage. She had no way to deal with Victor; she couldn’t fight him or kill him, while Victor could act with impunity. Even if the merchant association was destroyed, he would suffer no loss.

Once Sophia had an heir, even if it wasn’t Victor’s child, her position would be secure. According to the Lord’s Law, the Church supported blood-kin succession. In reality, nobles pursued powerful bloodlines and practiced primogeniture. It didn’t matter if the heir shared the family’s blood, as long as they were married to a partner who did. The Church never delved too deeply into such matters, otherwise it would face opposition from all the nobles.

Under these circumstances, Andre’s invitation sent Sophia’s imagination racing.

Seeing the smile on Sophia’s face and the way her long, white legs were crossed, Natalya knew she was tempted. She couldn’t help but say, “Sophia, I think you should mend your relationship with Victor.”

“Just say what you want to say,” Sophia said with a frown, a hint of displeasure in her voice.

Many Wild Knights chose to serve merchant associations, using their resources to advance their knightly rank and their connections as a stepping stone to eventually join the forces of major lords and seek a better future. Natalya and Sophia had joined the Wimbledon Merchant Association at the same time. They had supported each other, and their bond was deep; they could be called friends who had been through life and death together. After Sophia took charge of the association, Natalya became her confidante and staunchest ally. There was no topic they couldn’t discuss.

“Sophia, I know you need an heir. Victor has now manifested the wind element. In terms of noble and ancient bloodlines, his is even greater than Andre’s, and he is your husband. Why must you become Andre’s lover? I remember you used to hate domineering men. Didn’t you used to be very fond of Victor?” Natalya said bluntly.

“Back then, it was half real and half an act for Catherine,” Sophia said with a wry smile. “Victor now has strength, cunning, and ambition. He’s no longer the little husband I was fond of. And the person he probably hates the most is me.”

“You’re so beautiful, even I’m moved just looking at you. Are you afraid you can’t capture Victor’s heart again?” Natalya teased.

Sophia asked, “Ancient bloodlines are notoriously difficult for procreation. Can you make Victor stay by my side forever? Don’t forget, he belongs to Sylvia now.”

Natalya was at a loss for words and could only shake her head. “I just feel there’s something wrong with Andre. Before a Gold Knight advances, they must clarify their pursuit and their path. Most choose to protect their family. Andre is Duke Gremoke’s younger brother. Logically, he should be protecting the Gremoke family. But look at what he does. First, he wanted to marry into the Auguste family. After being rejected by Roland, he returned to the Kingdom of Borea and immediately married the eldest daughter of Duke Cristel. Could it be that Andre’s knightly path is to marry into powerful families?”

“Every knight’s pursuit is different,” Sophia mused for a moment, then smiled. “Didn’t Sylvia become the guardian of the York family?”

“That’s different. Her Highness Sylvia joined the York family as an apprentice knight. Who could have known she was a Flame Knight?” Natalya continued, “There’s only one explanation for Andre’s actions: he has greater ambitions! Getting involved with him is not a wise choice.”

“That’s reasonable.”

Sophia propped herself up and called out a word in the barbarian language. The wooden door was pushed open abruptly, and the female barbarian Raegzo poked her head in, asking Sophia a question. When Natalya saw Raegzo’s rugged, tattooed face, her heart instantly tightened.

Raegzo and Sophia chatted for a few sentences in the barbarian tongue, then Raegzo grumbled and retreated, shutting the door heavily behind her.

“What did she just say to you?” Natalya asked, feeling lost. Now that she knew Raegzo was a barbarian warrior comparable to a Gold Knight, she naturally felt the immense pressure.

“What she said isn’t important,” Sophia said with a dismissive pout, her tone regal. “I just wanted you to know that whatever ambitions Andre may have, we have no need to care.”

“Do you remember that night fourteen years ago? We were smuggling Mithril and, to avoid the Kingdom of Sus’s inspection teams, we chose to detour through the Twilight Forest, traveling by night and resting by day. We ended up running into an entire pack of Gnolls. At that time, you and I were just apprentice knights. If you hadn’t risked your life to save me, I would have ended up in a Gnoll’s stomach.” Sophia stood up and gently touched her slender finger to Natalya’s breastplate. “When it rains, does the scar here still hurt?”

“I’m used to it,” Natalya said, sighing as she recalled their green and tender years.

“I haven’t forgotten the scar you carry. I haven’t forgotten Aunt Helen selling smiles in a tavern to support me. I haven’t forgotten the thorns beneath my feet. I swear, no one can take away what is ours! Not Soren, not Andre, and not Victor!”

When Sophia looked up, Natalya saw that her purple eyes had turned a verdant green, like a bottomless pool of water.

Chapter 220: The Secrets of the Mystic Forms

Early morning in the rear garden of Marquess Sophia’s estate.

Victor, dressed in light hunting attire, was practicing his forms in the snow. With each step he took, he threw an unremarkable punch. The force of his fist was neither fierce nor imposing; in fact, it was so weak it couldn’t even compare to that of a well-trained handmaiden. If one observed closely, however, they would discover that Victor’s movements were unhurried and steady, continuous and consistent, with a rhythm as fluid as flowing water.

To an outsider, Victor’s actions would look ridiculous. Of course, no one here dared to laugh at him, and Victor couldn’t care less what others thought. At that moment, he was completely immersed in the pleasure of cultivating the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form.

It had been nearly three years since Victor mastered the three great Mystic Forms. He had practiced them diligently all this time, spending at least four hours a day on their cultivation. Diligence, combined with the great cheat that was X-3, had allowed his Ox-Subduing Mystic Form to progress beyond the rigid, fixed stances to a state where he could move with complete freedom.

Force permeated Victor’s entire body. With every step came a punch, his muscles and bones in a state of continuous vibration. This perfectly measured training method completely aligned with the essence of the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form. Victor was able to achieve this because X-3 meticulously corrected his movements, and also because his own understanding of the Mystic Form was crucial.

According to X-3’s records, the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form was an efficient cultivation method and power-generation technique. Through corresponding stance practice, it trained a person’s sinews, bones, skin, and membranes. Working from the outside in, it strengthened the internal organs, vital energy, and blood. Supplemented by medicinal foods for nourishment and percussive massages for conditioning, it could elevate a practitioner’s physical qualities to an unbelievable degree. Muscles would become like sinews, the resilience of bones would increase, stamina would multiply, and every gesture would carry immense power. The highest state was described as: “A feather cannot be added, a fly cannot land; a single palm can subdue an ox, and a finger-flick can create startling thunder.”

However, after experiencing it firsthand, Victor felt that this so-called highest state was mostly just bragging. And it wasn’t just the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form that was overhyped; the Spirit Monkey and Golden Toad Mystic Forms had similar issues.

The Spirit Monkey Mystic Form focused on strengthening the five senses, pursuing a harmonious unity of perception, speed, balance, and agility. Its highest state was “To sense the autumn wind before it blows,” developing a sixth sense akin to a sudden premonition. It was a shift from prediction to prophesy, allowing one to seize the initiative against any enemy. Victor had no idea what this sixth sense was supposed to be. Comparing it to the Alchemical Warhound’s Wild Instinct, he speculated that this “sixth sense” was merely sharp intuition that had been embellished to sound divine.

If the Ox-Subduing and Spirit Monkey Mystic Forms were at least a little bit plausible, then the Golden Toad Mystic Form could only be described as mysterious beyond belief.

According to the records in X-3, the Golden Toad Stance originated from a Daoist school in Huaxia. The founder of this school believed that the universe was infinite, the human body finite, but the human mind was a projection of the infinite universe, thus possessing the same boundless properties. The so-called practice was to use the mind to sense the infinite laws of heaven and earth, then intercept those laws to nourish the finite body. By repeatedly breaking through one’s limits, one could achieve longevity and timeless sight, ensuring the soul’s immortality even after the body’s demise.

This wasn’t just bragging; it was sending a whole herd of them to the moon!

Based on such an absurd theory, this Daoist school had somehow managed to create the Golden Toad Stance. It was said that the school’s founder, by practicing the Golden Toad Stance, lived to be eight hundred years old.

Victor didn’t know why the designers of X-3 would believe such a ridiculous legend. In any case, the cultivation method for the Golden Toad Stance was in X-3, and in great detail.

The general principles of the Golden Toad Mystic Form described that the human form was entirely a result of the laws of heaven and earth, and thus the human body was a complete universe unto itself. The Golden Toad Stance, through visualization, stance practice, and breathing techniques, involved a four-stage cultivation process to align the inner universe with the outer universe as closely as possible, for the purpose of achieving longevity.

The first stage was circulating vital energy and blood, harmonizing the organs, and introspecting the entire body to complete a thorough bodily purification. The second stage was tempering the mind, reflecting the world with one’s mind, and perceiving the external world with the mind, knowing the changes in one’s surroundings without seeing, hearing, or smelling. The third stage was comprehending the mysteries of the universe’s workings and beginning to congeal the Golden Core.

The Golden Core was invisible and intangible. In simple terms, it was the synchronization of the inner and outer universes. Once the Golden Core was formed, a person’s inner universe would remain in constant alignment with the outer one. Not only would their lifespan reach its absolute limit, but their physical abilities would also become terrifying. Traveling five hundred kilometers a day, entering water without drowning, exhaling breath as sharp as a sword, and crushing iron into mud would all be child’s play.

After the Golden Core came the fourth stage: Oneness with nature. The practitioner would attempt to connect their inner universe with the outer one, absorbing the free-floating energy between heaven and earth, refining essence into qi, and transcending the mundane and entering sainthood. This would allow them to break the limits of their lifespan and grant them all sorts of wondrous powers—binding qi into a staff, walking on water, and so on. The descriptions grew more and more esoteric and boastful. Victor was half-believing, half-doubting.

In Victor’s view, the descriptions of the Golden Toad Mystic Form’s four stages were pure bullshit. However, he also believed that the form was not without its merits.

Victor had been cultivating the Golden Toad Mystic Form for two full years, and from beginning to end, he had never been able to circulate his vital energy and blood or introspect his entire body, let alone congeal a Golden Core or achieve a connection between his inner and outer self. However, when he activated the Golden Toad Mystic Form, his perception became extremely keen, his spirit grew tranquil, his aura was restrained, and his heartbeat and breathing became almost imperceptible. He would merge completely with his environment. Not even the Silver-rank Ant-man chief had been able to detect his hidden killing intent, allowing Victor to slay him with a single blow.

Victor called this effect of the Golden Toad Mystic Form “Concealment.”

In the Concealment state, Victor’s affinity for the wind element and his Perception were greatly enhanced, improving by at least thirty percent. At the same time, his aura was hidden and his killing intent was suppressed, giving him a stealth effect so potent that it didn’t even trigger the Alchemical Warhound’s Wild Instinct. However, the moment Victor launched an attack, the Concealment state would immediately break, and it would take fifteen minutes before he could enter it again.

Additionally, Concealment allowed Victor to recover his vigor rapidly. In his normal state, manifesting the wind element to shoot ten arrows would lead to vigor exhaustion, which presented as physical depletion. He would be unable to use Wind Walk, Overlimit, Super Sense, or Apocalypse, and wouldn’t even have the strength to flee. He would need to rest for more than five hours to recover his vigor. In the Concealment state, however, it took only two hours for his reserves to be full again.

Victor hadn’t known the difference between vigor and physical stamina, so he had specifically asked Sylvia. Sylvia explained that Knights consumed spiritual power, not physical power, to circulate their Aura. When their spiritual power was completely depleted, a Knight couldn’t sustain their Aura and would find it difficult to even move their body. This manifested as Aura exhaustion and physical depletion.

Sylvia also told Victor that a Knight’s four elements were balanced. When the four Elemental Nodes resonated, physical stamina would fuel vigor, and Aura would become an inexhaustible, self-sustaining flow, allowing them to fight continuously for very long periods. But Victor had no Elemental Nodes, so his physical stamina could not be converted into vigor, which naturally led to fatigue and powerlessness.

Victor finally understood. The fire element represented active Spirit, while the water element represented passive Life, or stamina. The secret of the Golden Toad Mystic Form was to do the opposite: by stimulating passive life potential, it calmed the mind and spirit, achieving the goal of nourishing the soul.

Victor could now be certain that the Golden Toad Mystic Form did indeed have the effect of purifying his Bloodline; that was how his Blind Sense and his ability to manifest the wind element had awakened. This also explained why Alchemical humans couldn’t learn the Golden Toad Mystic Form—as unnatural lifeforms, they had no bloodline to speak of. If the Golden Toad Mystic Form was also effective for Knights, its value would be inestimable.

Victor had no Knights who were loyal to the death under his command, so he certainly wasn’t going to create trouble for himself. The Golden Toad Mystic Form was something only he could practice. If he could really manage to congeal a Golden Core, he would hit the jackpot. Victor knew the hope was slim, but he still desired it greatly. In truth, Victor suspected that the highest states of all three Mystic Forms were just exaggerations, as ancient Huaxian monks and martial artists had always been fond of hyperbole. Nevertheless, the three Mystic Forms were still exceptionally brilliant cultivation methods.

The Spirit Monkey Mystic Form required a great deal of time for stance practice and visualization, making it the most difficult of the three to train. But because it emphasized hand-eye coordination, any practitioner who achieved a degree of success with it could absolutely become a qualified greatbowman. In large-scale battles, greatbowmen were the deadliest type of soldier, bar none.

The standard for a qualified greatbowman was ten accurate shots per minute, twenty-five long-range shots, with a maximum of thirty, covering a distance of four hundred meters with enough power to pierce armor. The greatbow’s rate of fire, power, and range were far superior, not just to crossbows, but to any other type of bow. With five thousand greatbowmen firing at a rate of twelve shots per minute, they could unleash sixty thousand arrows upon the enemy every minute. This was a storm-like volley of fire.

To train greatbowmen, a lord had to first select soldiers with a talent for archery, then put them through more than eight years of arduous training to become qualified. It was precisely because archers were so few, the training so long, and the cost so high that the vast majority of lords chose the easy-to-operate crossbow.

Victor simplified the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form into beginner, intermediate, and advanced stages. The beginner stage would train a soldier’s hand-eye coordination. After two years, a soldier would be able to use a standard longbow and land seven out of ten shots. Once an archer completed the intermediate training, they would reach the standard of a qualified greatbowman. This process would also take two years.

From a training perspective alone, Victor could cultivate a batch of powerful greatbowmen every four years. This was the power of the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form.

When soldiers cultivated the simplified version of the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form to the intermediate stage, their Physique would be enhanced to its limit. This process would take four to five years. In contrast, ordinary vassal soldiers, who trained from childhood, would have to spend more than a decade to train their bodies to that level.

Victor planned to promote the beginner training of the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form and the intermediate training of the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form among his Guards, while also making the training methods public to the York family. This would not only enhance the military strength of the Centaur Hills, giving them an advantage against the Ant-man army, but most importantly, it would serve to conceal the existence of the Alchemical militia. When everyone’s strength had improved, a few hundred Alchemical militia would no longer seem out of place. Victor could then rightfully and justifiably allow the Alchemical militia to appear before the world.

After completing a full set of forms, Victor’s vital energy and blood were surging, and his whole body was hot. He took a few deep breaths, and a series of crackling pops erupted from his joints. This resonance of sinews and bones was the mark of having cultivated the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form to an advanced stage. Victor’s Physique had already reached the limit for a mortal. A full-power punch from him carried over eight hundred kilograms of force. Although it still couldn’t compare to Narsen’s four-thousand-kilogram punch, it far surpassed the five hundred-plus kilograms of an elite soldier.

The joy of improving one’s strength day by day was always a delight.

Having completed his cultivation for the day, Victor was deeply satisfied. Just as he was about to go and have a hearty meal, he suddenly sensed something was amiss. Victor looked up toward the ten-meter-high courtyard wall and saw a pair of emerald green eyes staring at him with curiosity.

The owner of the eyes was a peerless young beauty. She had unforgettable platinum-blonde hair, delicate and pure features, and skin as fine and smooth as ivory. Her pink lips were crystal clear and translucent, looking utterly seductive. Her eyes were pure and flawless, without a trace of impurity. Her innocent and curious expression made one want to draw closer, yet not dare to defile her.

Victor stammered, “Y-Your Highness Roland, wh-what are you doing on the wall?!”

Chapter 221: Reunion

Victor knew Roland. In his memories, the two of them were quite friendly.

The little Baron had entered the royal palace at the age of twelve to receive training in courtly etiquette—or, one might say, to be brainwashed by the Queen. In any case, he had lived in Aerie Fortress for three years. During this time, the little Baron had become acquainted with Princess Royal Roland and Prince Edward.

At first, Roland had appeared before the little Baron dressed as a court handmaiden. At the time, he thought she was just a beautiful and generous court lady. Most of the court handmaidens in Aerie Fortress were chosen from the second daughters of court nobles, whose status and background were far beyond what the little Baron could compare to. The little Baron was deferential and timid toward the handmaiden-clad Roland, but he later discovered that this particular handmaiden was not at all as stern and arrogant as the others. On the contrary, she was very friendly and would drag him all over the place to play. Back then, the little Baron was only twelve, an age full of energy and a love for play. He lived a lonely existence in Aerie Fortress, surrounded by stone-faced court attendants and ladies-in-waiting, so he quickly became friends with the enthusiastic and beautiful Roland.

Roland would often take the little Baron fishing or to play chess in Aerie Fortress, and later the chubby little Edward joined them as well. Roland often told them stories of knights, and when she was in high spirits, she would even pull them into acting out stage plays. She would have the little Baron play an elf, Edward a king, the guards as bandits, and she herself would play the Wandering knight who saved the kingdom. That period was the happiest time in the little Baron’s life. Unfortunately, the good times did not last. A year later, he learned Roland and Edward’s true identities from a Court Lady and no longer dared to play with them so freely. A well-behaved little Baron was clearly not enough to hold Roland’s interest. Gradually, Roland and Edward faded from his life, and he returned to his tedious training in courtly etiquette. Nevertheless, the beautiful Princess Roland left a deep impression on him.

In the little Baron’s heart, Roland’s place was second only to Sophia’s; she was an older sister he remembered with great fondness. But the vast difference in their statuses forced him to bury this feeling deep within his heart.

Victor’s understanding of Roland was not limited to the little Baron’s memories. He had learned from Sylvia that Roland was exceptionally talented with a noble bloodline, the youngest Gold Knight in the history of the Auguste family, and the princess with the greatest hope of stepping into the legendary realm.

Years ago, Roland had led her personal knight order against the Randt Empire’s Unicorn Knights. She employed tactics like feints, flanking maneuvers, avoiding enemy strong points while striking their weak spots, and dispersing her forces to penetrate deep into the Randt Empire’s territory. She captured four towns in a row, threatening the heavily injured Neovys upon his return to the country and forcing the Unicorn Knights to divide their forces for a rescue. As a result, Roland defeated them one by one. She even defeated Adrian, who was also a Gold Knight, in a head-on battle before safely withdrawing from the Randt Empire. In this battle, Roland had defeated a stronger foe, displaying outstanding military genius and formidable personal strength, which boosted Gambis’s morale. Her Glory Knights also replaced the Swift Dragon Knights, becoming Gambis’s ace knight order.

Although Sylvia admired Roland’s talent, she couldn’t say the same for her personality. In fact, Roland’s intense curiosity and eccentric character were no secret among the lords of Gambis, and the Auguste family was at their wit’s end over it.

Even though he was mentally prepared for Roland’s unbridled creativity, seeing the Princess Royal of Gambis perched on a wall, peeking over, still exceeded Victor’s imagination.

One had to remember, on the other side of this wall was an alley. What would passersby think if they saw her sticking her bottom in the air while lying on the wall? In the Nobles’ District, who didn’t recognize the Princess Royal?

Seeing the dumbfounded Victor, Roland was secretly annoyed with herself. She had wanted to see Victor ever since he arrived in the Royal Capital. Of course, Roland didn’t want to reminisce with him; it was all out of curiosity.

Humans generally yearned for the exquisite, mysterious, and elegant Elves, but the Elves had long since vanished into the Endless Forest, leaving behind only faint traces in human literature. Elves gradually became darlings of literary works and subjects of Bards’ songs, which only deepened people’s curiosity about them.

Fortunately, some noble families with long lineages would occasionally manifest elven bloodlines. Through them, the Nobles could catch a glimpse of the elves’ grace, witness love stories between knights and elves, and thereby prove the nobility of the knight’s bloodline. The legendary experiences of Sword Saint Draven had pushed the nobles with elven bloodlines to unprecedented heights, making them highly sought after by the great noble families.

Nobles who manifested elven bloodlines were exceedingly rare; currently, all of them combined numbered no more than thirty. Those who awakened the Wind Walk talent were even scarcer, and a Wind Walk Archer who could manifest the wind element might not appear even once in several hundred years. How could the insatiably curious Roland not come to see such a rare bloodline talent for herself?

Roland knew very well that if she directly summoned Victor or paid a formal visit, she would only see a lord, not a Wind Walk Archer. To fully satisfy her curiosity, she had to resort to spying—something she had long wanted to do.

Roland knew Sophia wasn’t home, and the guards of the Marquess’s estate stood no chance of discovering her. So she planned to sneak into the estate and observe Victor’s every move in secret, just like a Ranger from a play. The excited Roland, following the methods of Night Owl spies, studied the floor plan of the Marquess’s estate, formulated a detailed plan, and ultimately chose to infiltrate through the estate’s rear garden.

This morning, the snow in Brinol had not yet melted, and the weather was still very cold. The streets of the Nobles’ District were nearly empty. Dressed in hunting attire and a cloak to disguise herself as a handmaiden, Roland had been squatting in this deserted alley since early morning, waiting for an opportunity to scale the wall and carry out her grand plan of espionage.

To Roland’s frustration, the small garden on the other side of the wall was constantly occupied. She could only wait patiently for that person to leave. But this wait stretched on for two hours. Even the patrolling guards had noticed the sneaky Princess Royal, but they hadn’t dared to disturb her. Just as Roland was about to give up, a series of strange popping sounds came from the garden. She couldn’t resist sneaking a peek to see what was happening. But no sooner had she climbed atop the wall and glanced over than she was discovered by Victor.

“Your Highness, what on earth are you doing?”

Roland leaped down from the wall, her movements light and elegant, a pleasing sight to behold. Only her foul expression left Victor somewhat baffled.

“Little Victor, it’s been a few years. You’ve gotten fat!” Roland didn’t answer Victor’s question, instead looking him up and down before shaking her head with a look of regret.

“I… I’ve grown up…”

Victor, who cultivated the three great Mystic Forms, had a tall, slender, and well-proportioned figure. His skin was smooth and radiant, his bearing dignified. Compared to the thin and weak frame he had when he first transmigrated, he was indeed much sturdier, but he was a world away from being fat. Most importantly, he had just turned fifteen the last time he had seen Roland!

Roland looked at Victor again, nodding as if to acknowledge that he had grown up, then asked, “Have you been in the garden this whole time?”

“Yes.”

“Then did you hear any strange sounds just now?” Roland asked mysteriously, glancing around.

“No,” Victor said, looking blank.

“How could you not have heard it? That crackling sound! I heard it from the other side of the wall!”

Roland’s beautiful eyes widened as she strode forward a couple of steps in a huff. Only then did Victor understand she was referring to the resonance of sinews and bones. He denied it flatly, “No!”

Roland’s eyes darted around. Deciding to use force to make Victor tell the truth, she sneered, “It seems you won’t be honest unless I get serious.” With that, she reached out to grab Victor’s ear.

When Victor lived in the royal palace, Roland had discovered a secret: as long as she pinched Victor’s pointed ear, he would immediately submit. Whether it was fishing, playing chess, or acting in plays, he would agree to anything. It was a trick that never failed, a surefire way to get what she wanted. Roland had always delighted in pinching Victor’s ear.

The moment Roland came within the two-meter radius of his Blind Sense, Victor was jolted awake.

Most men would not refuse the intimate gesture of a beautiful young woman twisting their ear, especially when she was a princess of noble status.

Among all the women Victor knew, Sylvia, Sophia, and Roland were the most outstanding.

Sophia was the undisputed number one beauty of the Royal Capital. Her features were exquisite, her charm unparalleled. Every smile and frown held a soul-stirring allure. Her elegant and noble temperament was tinged with a faint wildness that made one want to either conquer her or be conquered by her. The little Baron had been utterly smitten with Sophia, and Victor had to admit that of the three women, Sophia was the most beautiful and alluring.

Sylvia was also a peerless beauty with blonde hair and blue eyes, yet her looks and aura couldn’t quite compare to Sophia’s and Roland’s. When Victor first met Sylvia, he thought she was only a cut above the other noble ladies of the Royal Capital, not yet to the point of stunning him. However, that was not Sylvia’s true appearance. When Sylvia revealed her red-haired, red-eyed form, she could only be described as flawless. In that state, Sylvia transcended the limits of human aesthetics, perfectly conforming to the laws of nature, like the sun, making it impossible to look at her directly. Instead, one felt immense pressure—a difference in their level of Life. Fortunately, Sylvia preferred to maintain her “ordinary” appearance; otherwise, Victor didn’t know if he could perform his manly duties in front of her.

Roland gave Victor a different feeling entirely. Her face and figure were in no way inferior to Sophia’s, perhaps even slightly superior. But Roland’s temperament was unique. She liked what she liked and disliked what she disliked; all her emotions were written plainly on her face without any attempt to hide them. This pure temperament and distinct personality exuded a powerful charisma that often made people overlook her beauty. They would only want to cherish, adore, and respect her, which was why the Glory Knights followed Roland to the death.

Alright, so Roland not only had the body of a young maiden but also the heart of one. She was an invincible, beautiful girl.

In Victor’s memory, Roland looked the same now as she did years ago, but she was definitely older than twenty. However, Sylvia had taught Victor a lesson: never inquire about a female knight’s age. He had once carelessly asked and been fiercely punished by Sylvia for it. High-ranking female knights could maintain their youthful appearance until the day their souls dissipated. In fact, many Pinnacle Knights would wait until after they were one hundred years old before busying themselves with procreation; otherwise, they would very likely watch their own children grow old and die first.

According to the theory of the Golden Toad Mystic Form, a Silver Knight was at the stage of condensing a Golden Core, while a Pinnacle Knight was at the stage of Oneness with nature.

Right now, Princess Roland, who was in a state of Oneness with nature, wanted to pinch Victor’s ear. Although she was a stunningly beautiful young woman, Victor had to keep his distance. It was like a tiger—tigers were beautiful, too, but who would dare let a tiger show affection? And Roland was far fiercer than a tiger; a single slap from her could kill him. Moreover, Victor’s hearing was acute, and his ears had become extremely sensitive. Besides Sylvia, no one was allowed to touch them now.

Roland didn’t know what Victor was thinking, and even if she did, she wouldn’t have cared. Her movement was fast and precise. Her two slender fingers shot forward in an instant. The next moment, with just a gentle pinch, Victor would obediently confess. However, she pinched nothing but air.

“Huh?!”

Victor maintained his previous posture and expression, and the distance between them hadn’t changed at all, as if nothing had happened. Only the footprints in the snow proved that he had just taken two steps back, cleverly dodging Roland’s small hand.

Roland’s eyes lit up. She closed the distance, once again grabbing for Victor’s ear, her speed much faster this time. Victor smiled faintly. Other than Sylvia, no one could breach his Blind Sense zone without a sound. Roland was fast, but within a two-meter radius, Victor could evade her with instinct alone.

She missed again! Roland’s interest grew, and she continued to increase her speed, her long, snow-white fingers relentlessly chasing that pointed ear. Victor no longer retreated but instead maneuvered within a small area, wanting to see just how big the gap was between himself and a Pinnacle Knight.

Roland’s speed became faster and faster, like a bolt of lightning. Victor finally activated Wind Walk. As a light breeze gently swirled around his body, a joyful, happy smile appeared on Roland’s face.

Roland no longer focused solely on increasing her speed. Her slender hand moved in fits and starts, fast as a flash of lightning one moment, gentle as a spring breeze the next. Yet, she could never quite catch that wretched pointed ear. To Roland, Victor was like a willow catkin, moving with the wind, turning with ease. No matter how fast or slow her hand was, she couldn’t touch Victor’s ear.

In truth, Victor had already entered the Apocalypse state. In his mind, Roland’s movements were slowed down, and not a single minute change could escape his Perception. Although the speed of Roland’s strikes had already surpassed Victor’s maximum speed, he could anticipate her actions and dodge in advance.

In the garden, upon the snow, two figures sometimes crossed, sometimes separated, sometimes spun, and sometimes darted. They were ahead one moment and behind the next. It was as if an invisible line connected them, yet they could never get close. Roland noticed this strange phenomenon and flicked her jade-like hand repeatedly. Victor’s body swayed left and right in response, wobbling back and forth like a pellet drum. The comical scene made Roland laugh out loud, and the sound of her bell-like laughter alerted the guards of the Marquess’s estate.

Roland stopped her chase, pouting her pink lips as she walked toward the wall. Victor clutched his dizzy head and groaned, “Your Highness, you could have used the main gate.”

Without looking back, Roland said, “I came to inform you. You’re to go to the Senate this afternoon for an inquiry.” With that, she leaped onto the wall and disappeared behind it just before the guards arrived.

Seeing the guards run over, Victor let out a breath of relief. He had almost reached his limit. Although his performance at the end was rather unsightly, he had ultimately prevented Roland from succeeding.

Just as Victor was feeling a little proud of himself, a tingling numbness suddenly spread through both his ears, as if someone had just given them a firm tug. Victor’s face paled in horror. He had no idea when Roland had managed to strike. No matter how fast she was, the X-3 should have recorded it. Victor rubbed his ears, only to find them covered in water droplets.

Outside the wall, Roland tilted her head back and hummed, “Serves you right for not letting me touch them!”

Chapter 222: Unanimous Vote

The Brinol Cathedral towered over the central plaza of the Nobles’ District. It was the most solemn, magnificent, and tallest building in the Royal Capital, a symbol of the Lord of Radiance’s supreme status. On the other side of the central plaza, a twelve-meter-tall, three-story building stood in stark contrast to the towering cathedral. The difference between them was like that of a giant and a dwarf, yet this unassuming structure was the highest organ of power in the Kingdom of Gambia—the Senate.

In a kingdom under the feudal system, the King held the highest status and the greatest power, but he was still constrained by the Senate. Any officially promulgated decrees, calls to arms, orders of exile, or orders of execution—even a change in the heir to the throne—had to be approved by a vote in the Senate before they could be implemented. The Senate represented the will of all the lords in the kingdom; it was impossible for them to allow the royal family to do as they pleased and harm the fundamental interests of the nobility as a whole. However, the Senate only possessed the power to vote, not the power to govern.

To maintain an appearance of impartiality, the royal family generally did not hold seats in the Senate directly, instead relying on court nobles to occupy a majority of the positions. The Gambis Senate had a total of nine seats. The court nobles representing the Auguste family controlled four of them. The remaining five seats belonged to the Joshua family, lords of the east; the Wellington family, lords of the central south; House Sorim, lords of the south; the Nim family, lords of the west; and the York family of the Centaur Hills. These families represented different factions of lords, while the central and northern parts of the kingdom were the direct domain of the Auguste family.

Under normal circumstances, the leaders of the great noble families remained within their own spheres of influence, presiding over their fiefs and family affairs. Only when a major event occurred in the kingdom would they personally attend Senate meetings to strive for their respective interests. For minor matters that did not touch upon a family’s fundamental interests, the representatives stationed in the Royal Capital could vote in their stead. The matter of Viscount Randell killing the Great Knight Austin in a familial pitched battle, for instance, was one such case.

Regardless of whether it was a minor or major affair, the very fact that it had alarmed the Senate was a testament to its significant influence. From the moment Victor walked into the Senate, his strength, power, and status had been acknowledged by the top great nobles of Gambis. His deeds would become the talk of the Royal Capital’s nobility, and this time, they would not be discussing a handsome male pet, but a powerful Wind Walk Archer.

The sun was setting, its fading light casting a long shadow from the Brinol Cathedral that fell directly upon the doors of the Senate.

When Victor stepped out of the Senate, the first thing he saw was the silver-draped cathedral set against a brilliant sunset, like a magnificent oil painting. In the snow-misted central plaza, the twilight was like a wisp of green smoke, a hazy fog, ethereal and indistinct. Amidst this beautiful scenery, the Senate looked exceptionally shabby.

The little Baron had never understood why the Senate, which held the reins of the kingdom’s power, was so plain. Now, standing outside its doors and facing the cathedral, Victor finally understood the reason.

The Senate was built of green bricks, appearing simple and low-key. When the leaders of the great families gathered, should any mishap occur, they could immediately break through the walls and escape into the cathedral to seek sanctuary.

This was the nature of the relationship between the kingdom’s lords: united and cooperative, yet mutually wary. It also showed that while the nobles held no pious devotion to the Lord of Radiance, they deeply trusted the Radiant Church. This revealed the genius of the first Pope in establishing the Radiant Code. Its powerful self-restraint not only kept a firm grip on the lower classes of human society but also won the trust of humanity’s elite warrior class. This transcendent status was the reason the Church had stood unshaken for so long.

The last rays of the setting sun shone upon Victor, but the shadow of the cathedral fell over his heart. Victor’s grand army strategy and his freemen merchant association strategy were both built upon winning over the commoners. This was no different than infringing upon the Church’s domain. On this issue, Victor had no way to compromise with the Church. He needed the people and mercenaries under his command to be completely loyal to him, to move as an extension of his will, rather than changing their allegiance and scattering in disarray under the Church’s influence.

To achieve this, he had to establish a new system of benefit distribution and administration. How such a new system could coexist with a deeply entrenched behemoth like the Church was a problem Victor had yet to solve.

Fortunately, while the major powers were busy scrambling for power and profit, none of them could have imagined that a minor lord with a shallow foundation was plotting how to undermine the Church.

A soft, fragrant body leaned against him from behind, pulling Victor’s thoughts back to the present.

“Darling, we’re fine now,” Judy said joyfully, linking her arm with Victor’s.

Victor smiled faintly. The Senate’s inquiry had been a mere formality; the outcome had been determined from the very beginning.

Austin had attempted to murder the family heir, invaded the Randell Fief, and slandered Viscount Randell’s name. In the process of defending his territory, Viscount Randell had eliminated the invading enemy and killed the main culprit. His actions were just and lawful. As Primo Briatte’s guardian, Lady Judy would oversee all affairs in Bryat’s fief and represent the Briatte family heir in pledging allegiance to the royal family. This conclusion was passed unanimously by all nine seats of the Senate.

Interestingly, the law forbidding Knights of the Kingdom of Gambia from killing one another had also been passed unanimously. However, the Senate did not explicitly prohibit duels between Knights or familial pitched battles. This was born of respect for knightly tradition and a desire to praise martial valor, but the Church’s attitude was also a crucial factor.

You Knights can fight other Knights, and you Vassals can fight other Vassals. We don’t care if you beat each other to a pulp, but you cannot drag the common folk to their graves with you. Mmm, Kightly duels and familial pitched battles are a very fine tradition.

In truth, the Senate’s ban could not solve the problem completely. Private fights between Knights had always existed; they had merely moved from the open into the shadows. When two families had an irreconcilable conflict, clandestine struggles were inevitable. Both sides would disguise themselves as bandits to attack each other’s territories, and if they encountered each other in the wild, it would become a small-scale familial pitched battle.

To secure his right of succession, Austin had disguised himself and invaded the Randell Fief, brazenly killing patrolling guards, only to be caught red-handed. For Victor, whose foundation was shallow and who was eager to consolidate the loyalty of his people, this was something he absolutely could not tolerate. If not for the timely arrival of the Royal Capital’s tax collector, Austin would have ended up dead in the wilderness. Such incidents were common in the human kingdoms and not at all strange.

In the end, it was a case of “the braver man wins when their paths cross.” Why would the kingdom destroy a powerful Silver-rank archer for a dead Great Knight? Besides, Victor’s backer was strong—very strong!

The consequences of the matter were not that severe, but the impact and the changes it brought about were far-reaching. Just like Victor, the royal family also had to protect its own authority. Facing the aggressive York family, openly compromising could very well trigger an avalanche effect, just like what had happened with the three eastern provinces. Roland had gone with the flow, not only skillfully defusing the crisis but also changing the political landscape of Gambis’s internal strife.

Victor had been in the Royal Capital for over twenty days, and the Season of Water was nearly at its end, yet the Senate had been slow to summon him. This was because everyone had been waiting for Prince Edward’s return. When Victor received the summons for the inquiry this morning, he knew that Edward had returned. The young prince’s return marked the beginning of a new chapter for Gambis. Prince Edward would inherit the throne, Grand Duke Williams would serve as Regent, and the York family would guard the Centaur Hills and no longer seek to expand inward. This served the interests of all the lords. Naturally, the Senate would not make things difficult for Victor, so a unanimous vote was only to be expected.

Judy couldn’t think about so many things. She gazed at Victor’s exquisite profile, her beautiful eyes filled with tenderness.

From the moment she stepped out of the Senate, Judy had become a noble with real power in Gambis. The Briatte family was weak, but it was, after all, a lordly family with a legacy of over two hundred years. It possessed the sturdy Wildwillow City, five family Knights, twenty-seven apprentice knights, tens of thousands of subjects, and countless fields and pastures. Now, all this manpower and material wealth were hers to command. The family Knights would have to kneel before her; she had become the true master of Bryat’s fief.

Leading an entire family was not something Judy had ever considered, but what noble lady did not love fame, profit, and power? Besides, she had no other choice.

The affair with Austin had taught Judy a lesson: in the fight for family succession, cowardice and concession would only lead to greater disaster. She was also keenly aware that Primo was not the only one with Briatte family blood, and there was no shortage of ambitious people anywhere. To secure her position on the lord’s throne, she had to keep the man before her firmly in her grasp.

In Judy’s heart, Victor was the hero who had saved her and her son from peril, not only defeating the vicious Austin but also granting the Briatte family the greatest degree of autonomy. Moreover, Victor was young and handsome with a noble bloodline, and his various gentle methods always left one completely captivated, unable to control one’s emotions. The thought that the Elina sisters could be by Victor’s side every day was enough to make Judy burn with jealousy.

“Victor, tonight… come to my place. I’ve prepared a banquet for you,” Judy murmured in Victor’s ear in the gentlest voice imaginable.

Power is the best aphrodisiac for a noble lady, and this statement applied equally to Judy. At this moment, she held tightly to Victor’s arm. Her snow-white cheeks were flushed, her red lips slightly parted, and her full chest rose and fell gently with her fragrant breath. The sweet affection of passion seemed to spill from her dewy eyes, and her delicate, graceful charm was intoxicating.

Victor smiled and nodded. He did indeed have matters to discuss with Judy. Just as he was about to accept, an ill-timed voice sounded from behind them.

“Victor.”

Chapter 223: Establishing a Black Market

Viscount Ternis, the Royal Capital’s tax collector, hurried over from behind. He first bowed to the displeased Lady Judy and said, “My beautiful Lady Judy, I am terribly sorry to disturb you.”

Victor patted the small hand on his arm and said gently, “Darling, you should head back first. I’ll find you in a little while.”

Judy’s displeasure immediately turned to joy. She lightly lifted the hem of her skirt to return Ternis’s courtesy, then sashayed away with a gentle sway of her willowy waist. Watching her slim and graceful figure board the carriage, Ternis praised her sincerely, “Truly an outstanding beauty.”

Praising a noble’s partner was not frivolous or rude, but a form of compliment. Victor smiled and said, “Ternis, I was just planning to find some time to visit you.”

Ternis was momentarily embarrassed. Victor was his business partner, and he should have been the first to pay a visit to fulfill his duties as a host. Yet, he was only now coming forward to exchange pleasantries, which was quite rude. Fortunately, nobles were famously thick-skinned. Ternis explained with sincerity, “My friend, no one would have disturbed you before Prince Edward’s return. Given my current status and seniority, I wouldn’t dare to be so willful at such a time. I hope you can forgive my impoliteness. If I had missed this opportunity today, I’m afraid you wouldn’t have had any time to speak with me at all.”

With Prince Edward’s safe return, the political situation in Gambis had settled. As the York family’s representative, Victor was bound to be warmly received by the great nobles of the Royal Capital. A succession of banquets and events would follow, and he genuinely might not have had time for a private meeting with Ternis.

Victor glanced at the sky and smiled, “I can understand your predicament, but it’s getting late. I have an engagement with a certain beauty, so let’s skip dinner. Why don’t we take a stroll through the Trade District? We can talk as we walk.”

Ternis was overjoyed and summoned his waiting carriage. The two men boarded it, and with a flick of the reins from the driver, the open-topped carriage headed towards the inner city.

Brinol’s Nobles’ District had no shops, and the noble ladies of the Royal Capital were not in the habit of shopping for leisure. When they wanted clothes or jewelry, they would summon top designers and tailors for private services and custom fittings. As for daily necessities, their stewards would naturally handle the procurement. This custom saved Victor the trouble of accompanying his woman on shopping trips, which meant less hassle, but also less fun.

“Ternis, there’s something I’ve never understood. How can my required annual tribute be so high? Even a marquess’s fief probably doesn’t have an annual tribute of 20,000 Gold Sols, does it? Such a large sum is a real strain on me,” Victor complained to Ternis.

Ternis asked, stunned, “You paid the 20,000 annual tribute yourself?”

Victor’s heart skipped a beat, but he nodded silently. Ternis pondered for a moment before saying, “According to the kingdom’s system for annual tributes, lords everywhere must pay twenty percent of their fief’s produce and a fixed amount of gold coin each year. The fixed tax for a viscounty is 3,000 Gold Sols. Your payment of 20,000 Gold Sols isn’t just higher than a marquess’s fief… even a duchy only pays 15,000 Gold Sols.”

“How could this be?!” Victor was both shocked and furious. 20,000 Gold Sols was no small sum. If not for the windfall from that unlucky assassin, he really wouldn’t have been able to pay that much. But the annual tribute was due every year, and windfalls weren’t a yearly occurrence.

“Don’t be hasty,” Ternis said with a wry smile, shaking his head. He explained, “You must have heard the saying, ‘My vassal’s vassal is not my vassal’! Therefore, the kingdom can only collect an annual tribute from independent lords. And the produce paid by a lord refers to the lord’s own income; it doesn’t include the twenty percent harvest from their subjects, nor the personal income of their family’s vassals. Calculated this way, a lord simply can’t pay much in annual tribute. But even so, lords everywhere are still trying to find ways to evade it. Enfeoffing vassal lords and vassals is a common practice.”

“The York family is the best example. Most of the lords in the Centaur Hills are vassal lords of the York family. They don’t have to pay an annual tribute directly to the kingdom; they only offer a tribute of fifty percent of their produce to the York family. This means that, aside from the York duchy, the kingdom can only collect ten percent of the produce from the other vassal fiefs, and they don’t even have to pay the fixed tax. Duke York then returns twenty percent of the tribute paid by the vassal lords in the form of subsidies, thereby achieving the goal of tax evasion.”

“We don’t have many good solutions for this practice by the great lords,” Ternis paused and sighed. “Actually, what the kingdom wants most is to collect the produce from each fief—including grain, ore, high-quality timber, beast sinew, herbs, spices, leather, flax cloth, and cured meat. The kingdom isn’t too concerned about the fixed tax. To urge the lords to pay their material tributes, the kingdom stipulated that any lord who fails to pay the full amount of produce will be subject to a tenfold fine.”

“It’s true I haven’t paid any produce… You’re well aware of the situation in the Randell Fief. We can’t even sustain ourselves, so what produce could we possibly have to offer?” Victor spread his hands and asked with a flicker in his eyes, “But even a tenfold fine shouldn’t amount to 20,000 Gold Sols, right?”

“My friend, you wouldn’t be deliberately forgetting the Purple Cane wine and raw sugar, would you? As for the coffee and Snow Sugar, I haven’t taxed those at all!”

Ternis said with a broad smile, “Purple Cane wine is astonishingly valuable, and for the share that Marquess Sophia sells externally, only five percent was paid to the kingdom as tribute. The kingdom calculated your fine based on the total trade value of the Purple Cane wine.”

“That still doesn’t add up to 20,000 Gold Sols!” Victor fell silent for a moment, then tossed out the words stiffly.

“You’re right, it doesn’t!” Ternis nodded and said with a serious expression, “The main reason is the kingdom’s financial difficulties! According to the Senate’s vote back then, the York family was exempted from its annual tribute for twenty years in exchange for guarding the Centaur Hills. But that doesn’t include the Randell Fief, because you are not a vassal lord of the York family. So…”

“So, I’m indirectly paying taxes to the kingdom for the entire Centaur Hills, and for Sophia’s merchant association?” Victor pointed at his own nose, looking like a total sucker.

“Er… if the York family paid their annual tribute normally, the kingdom would receive at least 150,000 Gold Sols’ worth of refined iron from the Centaur Hills’ iron ore resources alone. As it is, by only collecting a 20,000 Gold Sol fine, the kingdom has already made a huge concession.” Ternis tactfully implied that he had already been given a discount, then shook his head with a smile. “I just didn’t expect that you were the one paying this sum all by yourself… Of course, that’s your family affair. It’s not my place to comment.”

Victor was speechless. The reality was that he was paying the price for both his predecessor and his current partner. Fine, according to Huaxian tradition, it was no big deal to pay for one’s woman. The infuriating part was that Sylvia hadn’t said a single word about it from start to finish; she had just let him walk right into it. This made Victor a little annoyed.

But when he considered that he himself was hiding the matter of the Mithril mine, Victor felt much more balanced. As for Sophia, she was, after all, his former lover and nominal wife. Now she was facing a predicament, her fate unknown, so Victor couldn’t be too petty about it.

“Is it too late for me to join the York family now?” Victor asked, full of hope.

Since he couldn’t quibble with his own women, his only option was to undermine the kingdom, however slim the hope.

As expected! Ternis exclaimed dramatically, “How could that be possible! You’re a registered independent lord now! And one with a far-reaching reputation!”

“Is the kingdom’s treasury really in such difficulty?” Victor glanced around and deftly changed the subject.

“Indeed, it’s very tight.” Ternis said grimly, “Ever since the Centaur Hills suffered the Ant-man plague, the kingdom has been actively preparing for war. The Northern Commanderies settled one hundred fifty thousand refugees at once, registered them all, and trained eighty thousand militia and eight thousand soldiers from among them. Not counting the cost of their food and wages, just the military equipment alone has left the kingdom stretched thin. On top of that, there’s the cost of upgrading the equipment for all the legions. The Minister of Finance doesn’t even dare to leave his house anymore… Marquess Golan sends people to squat outside his door every day…”

Victor shook his head with a grave expression, heaved a few deep sighs, and said nothing.

Gambis was a large and established kingdom with huge expenditures; financial difficulties were hardly surprising. Even if Marquess Golan chopped the Minister of Finance into pieces, he wouldn’t be able to squeeze much more out of him. However, this predicament wasn’t without a solution. The kingdom had no money, but the titled nobles did! Even the freemen from generations of merchant families were wealthy, to say nothing of the great families with centuries of heritage. If the kingdom were to issue national bonds using the annual tribute as collateral and pay interest, it could solve the immediate crisis. But Victor would never meddle in such affairs.

I’m not telling you, I’m just not telling you! If all the private wealth is concentrated in the hands of the royal family, whose money can the freemen’s merchant associations possibly earn? You stay poor, I get rich. That’s just fine!

Before they knew it, Victor and Ternis had arrived at the Trade District. By now, the sky was growing dark, and most shops had already closed for the day. The carriage drove directly to the entrance of the Ternis family’s shop.

Seeing Ternis arrive with an honored guest, the shop’s steward quickly ordered the clerks to open the main doors and light the thick tallow candles. Victor walked into the shop and looked around, noticing that the shelves were filled with luxury goods: amber, beeswax, honey, gemstones, spices, high-quality furs, and exquisite crafts, among other things. But he didn’t see any coffee.

“Why is there no coffee or Snow Sugar?” Victor asked with a frown.

“There is no coffee,” Ternis said slowly. “The coffee and Snow Sugar you sold me were divided up before they even finished the journey. Every time the family caravan passes through a fief, the lords there demand a cut. They don’t want money, only coffee. By the time the caravan reached the Royal Capital, there was almost nothing left… Between all the social obligations and people coming to ask for some, I just can’t keep up!”

“So the coffee trade actually made you lose money? You’re not planning to continue?” Victor asked with a half-smile.

“No! I need to procure more coffee, even if the price is a little higher, it doesn’t matter,” Ternis said seriously.

“Wouldn’t you just lose more then?” Victor was noncommittal.

“To be honest, coffee has a fire element affinity effect. It can help scholars like us restore our Spirit and clear our minds, making it a very rare beverage. Although I lose money operating the coffee business, the personal connections are priceless. I hope you can increase my share of the coffee trade. I can offer a twenty percent price increase… any higher than that, and I’m afraid I can’t manage it,” Ternis said with a wry smile.

The Randell Fief’s annual coffee production could reach a maximum of eight thousand pounds. The share Victor gave Ternis was two hundred pounds per year at five Gold Sols per pound, while the Chapman family’s share was three hundred pounds per year at four Gold Sols per pound. On the open market, the purchase price for coffee was forty Gold Sols per pound, but it was basically impossible to sell at that price. Yet neither Victor, Ternis, nor Earl Chapman had made much money from coffee; Ternis was even losing money. This was all within Victor’s expectations.

How could one possibly make money from coffee through normal trade routes, after being exploited at every level by the lords? Victor sold coffee at a low price and in limited quantities to the two families only to drive up its value and spread its reputation within knightly and scholarly circles. The real way to reap enormous profits was to rely on the freemen’s trade routes. Strictly speaking, the value of a smuggling channel was far greater than any cargo.

Victor was already building the channels, but the endpoint was equally important. And the endpoint for contraband was, of course, a Black Market. Pine Forest Town in the Chapman territory counted as one black market; now it was time to establish one in the Royal Capital as well.

“It’s dark. Let’s go back.” Victor glanced at the steward and clerks standing respectfully to the side and turned to walk out of the shop.

A thought struck Ternis, and he followed him out. The two sat in the carriage, and as it traveled through a quiet area, a light breeze rose, carrying Victor’s voice, as faint as a silken thread, to Ternis’s ears.

“I will speak, you will listen.”

Ternis impassively turned his head to look away as Victor continued, “Letting the coffee trade cause you to lose money is not the way of friends. I have a suggestion… I will triple your coffee share, but the price for the extra coffee will be 18 Gold Sols per pound. You can have your caravan’s steward find a way to smuggle this coffee, for example, by hiding it in the walls of the carriage. Once this coffee reaches the Royal Capital, you can find a way to sell it at a high price. It would be best to cultivate an agent among the freemen in the outer city and have him sell it. This way, you won’t offend your colleagues or the lords along the route, and you can still profit from it. You won’t have to lose money to earn favors anymore…”

Victor’s hushed whispers, like the temptation of a Devil, made Ternis’s heart pound.

Chapter 224: The Useless Phalanx

In the afternoon, in the woodlands of Silver Moon Manor.

Sunlight shone upon the accumulated snow, and a cold mist rose, shrouding the entire forest. On the snowy ground between the trees, two armored warriors stood ten meters apart in a remote standoff.

Narsen pushed off with the balls of his feet and took three quick strides, his adamantine battleaxe arriving before Bruce in an instant. His movements were nimble and swift, as if his suit of refined iron armor weighed nothing. This contrast between lightness and heaviness gave off a sense of unreality. Faced with this powerful yet effortless attack, Bruce couldn’t help but show a flicker of surprise. He twisted his wrist, and his adamantine one-handed halberd, like an awakening serpent, precisely met the oncoming battleaxe.

Bang!

As axe and halberd clashed, sparks flew, and the sound was like a clap of thunder. What seemed like a probing attack erupted with astounding power. A violent gust of wind kicked up the snow on the ground, sending it blasting in all directions like an explosion, a perfect demonstration of explosive force!

Although he had been prepared, the monstrous strength behind the adamantine battleaxe still surprised Bruce. Then, a second axe slammed viciously into his adamantine shield. Bruce could clearly feel that this blow was much stronger, even cracking the frozen earth beneath his feet.

Narsen swung his battleaxes in a flurry of intersecting slashes. The assault, like a torrential storm, carried immense force. The sharp whine of the air being torn asunder and the explosive clang of clashing weapons shook the snow from the tree branches, which was then swept into the air by the fierce winds. When he unleashed his sixth strike, Bruce finally took a step back.

This retreat greatly boosted Narsen’s morale. His attacks came like a tsunami, each wave higher than the last, each axe strike heavier than the one before. Bruce remained purely on the defensive, taking twelve axe blows and retreating twelve steps.

It wasn’t that Bruce couldn’t block the heavy battleaxes; he simply wanted to see the limits of Narsen’s strength. When the pressure on his shield ceased to increase, Bruce planted his feet, becoming like a reef in the sea, standing firm and unmoving no matter how the wind and waves battered him.

Through the vibrations of their weapon collisions, Bruce could clearly sense Narsen’s muscles working in an orderly fashion beneath his armor, his strength building layer by layer, flowing continuously with almost no pause.

Having now tested Narsen’s limits, it was time to end this bout. But Bruce realized that to suppress Narsen’s strength with his own, he would have to manifest the earth element. Doing so, however, would injure Narsen with the shockwave, which was not the outcome he desired.

If there’s no opening, create one!

The adamantine halberd whistled as it swept across. Narsen’s gaze hardened, and his left-hand axe transformed into a flash of purple light to meet the sharp horizontal strike. However, the moment their weapons made contact, Narsen found that the halberd, which should have been overwhelmingly heavy, was now lightly resting against his axe. Then, a gentle force guided his battleaxe to the side. Narsen quickly tried to retract his strength and stabilize his center of gravity, but the force from the halberd suddenly shifted from yielding to solid, becoming unstoppably fierce. Just as his battleaxe was about to be sent flying, Narsen loosened and raised his left hand, letting the adamantine axe spin once on the halberd, poised to fall back into his grasp.

“Eh?”

But this sudden change was not faster than Bruce’s power. The halberd dipped fluidly, swatting the battleaxe away. The tip of the halberd then gently tapped Narsen’s chest plate before retracting.

“Narsen, I never imagined your strength and skill had reached such a level. No wonder you could kill a Knight from the Briatte family in a direct confrontation,” Bruce said with a smile.

Narsen replied dejectedly, “Lord Bruce, you were holding back from the start. I used my greatest strength, yet you didn’t retreat a single step.”

“In terms of strength alone, you have far surpassed the level of an ordinary Knight, comparable to an adult Ogre. Even I couldn’t suppress you without manifesting the void element,” Bruce said, nodding. “The reason I wasn’t pushed back is that our strength is similar, but your Physique is not as formidable as mine. When our weapons collided, you instinctively retreated to disperse the force, otherwise you would have been injured.”

Narsen let out a hot breath and grinned. He had trained arduously in the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form, and both his Physique and strength had seen immense growth. Now, receiving a Great Knight’s acknowledgment was enough to make him proud.

Bruce started walking out of the woods, and Narsen hurried to follow. A few Guards took their weapons and shields from them.

Bruce asked casually, “You had Phoenix tell me you had something important to give me and that I should bring my best martial arts instructor. What is it?”

Narsen carefully recalled the instructions Victor had given him before leaving, making sure he hadn’t missed anything. Then he said, “Lord Bruce, don’t you think I’m much stronger than I was two years ago?”

“Your progress is indeed immense. It’s like you’re a different person,” Bruce affirmed.

Narsen chuckled. “I came up with a set of training methods a long time ago. Back when I was a mercenary, I was either fighting or traveling, so I never had time to practice properly. It’s only through this recent period of cultivation that I’ve made my current progress. Lord Victor is very satisfied with the results of this training method. I plan to give it to the York family.”

Bruce fell silent. Every family with a long history had its own methods for martial arts training. While they weren’t exactly clandestine secrets, they were still extremely precious secret arts to the common person. For Narsen to create his own unique secret technique and, rather than keeping it as a legacy for the Randall family, offer it to the York family—this must have been at Victor’s behest. But given the relationship between Victor and the York family, why couldn’t he say something directly? Why go through Narsen? And what was Victor’s purpose in making this secret art public?

Looking at Narsen’s sincere face, Bruce suddenly understood. Victor was doing this so the York family would owe Narsen a favor, as the secret art was, after all, Narsen’s creation. In that case, he could find out Victor’s goal by asking Narsen directly.

With this in mind, Bruce asked, “Narsen, why do you want to make your martial arts training method public?”

“Lord Bruce, have you heard about my lord’s design for grand army combat?” Narsen said, taking off his helmet. “According to Lord Victor’s plan, every five thousand soldiers would form a phalanx. When ten or more of these phalanxes are assembled, they can defend against an Ant-man army of up to thirty thousand in the open field. My training method can build up the soldiers’ strength and Physique, turning them into qualified warriors.”

“Useless!”

Bruce explained to the stunned and bewildered Narsen, “I’m not saying the secret martial art you created has no value, but that all such secret martial arts are useless. The infantry phalanx Victor envisions is impossible to realize—and even if it were, it would be useless!”

“Why?”

Narsen was indignant. He had personally experienced the outstanding effects of the two Mystic Forms. After the household guards practiced the simplified Mystic Form, their individual combat prowess had clearly increased by a great deal. If not for Victor’s orders, Narsen would have been completely unwilling to reveal the simplified Mystic Form to the York family, even just a part of it.

Bruce shook his head and chuckled. “Narsen, if a Giant Rhinoceros Beast charged into you, could you withstand it?”

Imagining being hit head-on by a nine-thousand-pound beast, Narsen decisively shook his head.

“This is how physical limits determine an individual’s limits.”

Bruce elaborated, “No secret martial art can allow a person to break through their limits. No matter how strong an ordinary person becomes, they can’t be stronger than a bull. No matter how fast they are, they can’t outrun a galloping horse. In the face of an absolute difference in power, combat skill is a joke. Even if elite soldiers master their martial arts to the peak, they are no match for an Ogre.”

“My strength may not be greater than a Giant Rhinoceros Beast’s, but I can kill one easily. And it’s not like there aren’t examples of ordinary soldiers killing Ogres,” Narsen argued, unconvinced. He then added proudly, “With my training method, an ordinary person can raise their strength, Physique, and endurance to their limits within four years.”

“And that’s precisely why I say it’s useless.”

Bruce sighed and explained, “Giant Rhinoceros Beasts are enormous and immensely powerful, but they have gentle temperaments. They possess great strength but lack a fighting spirit and wildness. Even an ordinary hunter can kill them. By the same token, no matter how strong an ordinary man’s body becomes or how superb his martial arts are, without fighting spirit and courage, he is just another kind of Giant Rhinoceros Beast.”

“Strength, speed, stamina, and skill only translate into combat effectiveness when paired with courage, will, and wisdom. Your training method may indeed be brilliant, but the one thing it cannot do is instill ordinary people with a martial spirit, an indomitable will, and the quality of loyalty.” Bruce turned to a nearby Guard and ordered, “Harvey, go and demonstrate your skills.”

The Guard nodded, glanced around, and finally walked toward a spruce tree.

Harvey appeared to be around thirty years old, with a resolute face, sharp eyes, and a burly, sturdy build. He moved with swift power, looking both capable and steady. He walked up to the spruce, drew his sword, and with a horizontal slash, the blade swept through the tough, dense trunk. He then sheathed his sword. The spruce tree, as thick as a man’s thigh, crashed to the snowy ground with a series of creaks and groans, kicking up a large cloud of snow with a startling clamor. Harvey precisely caught a refined iron spear that was tossed to him and performed a standard Thrust, plunging it straight into a Hemlock tree. Wood chips flew as the sharp spearhead emerged from the back of the trunk, which was as wide as a man’s embrace. With a powerful shake, he pulled the spear free and returned to the ranks, not even flushed or out of breath.

“The movements were fluid and clean. Impressive!” Narsen praised.

Bruce smiled and asked the Guard, “Harvey, how long have you been practicing your Thrust and horizontal slash?”

Harvey answered with the utmost respect, “My lord, I don’t know. I began my training at age seven and started practicing combat techniques at ten. Every day I practice the horizontal slash, Thrust, Counter-Slash, Downward Chop, and Turning Strike one hundred times each. It has been like this for years, every single day, without fail.”

Bruce nodded and said, “Narsen, the Vassal soldiers and noble children of our York family must undergo martial arts training from a young age. This isn’t just to build strong bodies and forge skills through relentless practice, but more importantly, to temper their will and martial valor. I myself underwent this same strict training. Although these skills are trivial to a Knight, the dull and repetitive training gave me a resilient character, which is one of the reasons I was able to become a Knight.”

“No matter how strong a farmer trains his body, he’s still a farmer. What combat effectiveness could they have? When faced with monsters, the only thing that changes is they can run away faster,” Bruce said, shaking his head dismissively.

Bruce was speaking the truth, yet Narsen felt a deep sense of unwillingness to see the brilliant Ox-Subduing Mystic Form dismissed so easily. He desperately wanted to tell Bruce that the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form had an advanced secret art that could greatly enhance a soldier’s combat power, but he held his tongue.

“Are there no superior secret martial arts then?” Narsen asked in a stifled voice.

“If there were, how did you War Bear Mercenaries survive on the battlefield?” Bruce retorted.

Narsen was speechless. When the War Bear Mercenaries fought the Sassans, the Sassan soldiers were indeed physically superior and more skilled, but not to an insurmountable degree. Both sides had their victories and losses; the gap wasn’t actually that large.

“The secret martial arts of the various families are all more or less the same. They focus on training the physique and combat techniques, but place even greater emphasis on tempering will and courage. No matter how skilled an ordinary person’s martial arts are, they can never be a Knight’s match. It’s sufficient for soldiers to simply master their combat techniques.”

Bruce’s words were tactful, but Narsen understood his meaning. An ordinary person’s limits were fixed. No amount of training would turn them into an Ogre. Since there were powerful Knights, what was the point of researching advanced secret martial arts?

Victor had once described the potential of ordinary people, and Narsen had been inspired by it, being from a common background himself. But now, having experienced the vast gulf between a Knight and an ordinary person, Narsen felt a profound sense of loss.

“Narsen, you don’t need to be dejected. A secret martial art’s benefit to an ordinary person is limited, but it is very useful for you.” Bruce pondered for a moment before saying, “As far as I know, there is one kind of person who has honed their martial skills to a terrifying and awe-inspiring degree!”

“What kind of person?”

Bruce said gravely, “The Adjudicators among the Sacred Warriors!”

“The Church’s Sacred Warriors are sourced from ordinary people, so they place exceptional importance on martial arts training. The Church has a legacy spanning several thousand years; who knows how many secret martial arts they’ve created. But there are records of Sacred Warriors single-handedly slaying Ogre chiefs, which proves their secret martial arts are incredibly advanced.”

“Fifth-level Sacred Warriors are Adjudicators. Their martial skills are extraordinary, especially when combined with the divine arts of a Sacred Warrior. Even a Great Knight is not necessarily a match for an Adjudicator. However, Sacred Warriors generally have short lifespans, and most Adjudicators don’t live past sixty. We suspect the Church has many secret arts for unlocking life’s potential.”

“If you could obtain the cultivation methods of the Sacred Warriors and discard the parts that harm the body, with your talent, reaching the Silver-rank might not be impossible.”

If I master the two great Mystic Forms, I definitely won’t be inferior to an Adjudicator, Narsen thought to himself, but what he said was, “These secret techniques would be good for training the militia, wouldn’t they? The militia are all adults, which is perfect for practicing my secret technique.”

Seeing that Narsen was still unwilling to give up, Bruce pointed out bluntly, “Victor is brilliant and full of wonderful and creative ideas. But when it comes to military common sense, he’s still very naive. We have studied his grand army strategy and found that this infantry phalanx is simply impossible to implement.”

“Secret arts for tempering the body always consume large amounts of meat. If Victor wants to train all the militia and form them into phalanxes, how much food would fifty thousand men need? Hmm… perhaps wild boar meat could solve the problem.” Bruce paused, then shook his head. “But soldiers need equipment, don’t they? According to Victor’s design, an infantry phalanx needs shieldmen, spearmen, crossbowmen, and greatbowmen. How many resources would it take to equip fifty thousand men? Even if food and equipment could be supplied, would these militiamen dare to face the Ant-men in field battles? When a Silver-rank Ant-man chief charges the phalanx, I suspect they will only flee, and more of them will be trampled to death than killed in battle!”

“Most importantly, we don’t have the land to give to so many people, and the Church would never let the militia be sent to their deaths for nothing.”

“The infantry phalanx Victor has proposed is completely meaningless. The most traditional and effective method of combat is to have elite soldiers form small squads and work in coordination.”

Ten to twenty elite soldiers would form a combat squad. Squad would coordinate with squad; they would surround and annihilate weaker opponents, form tight formations to fight evenly matched foes, and quickly scatter and retreat when facing an unbeatable enemy, thus avoiding being wiped out completely. Narsen was no stranger to these flexible tactics—in fact, all mercenaries used this method of squad-based combat—but he had never considered the reasons behind it. Today, Bruce’s words had opened his eyes.

When a Silver-rank monster charged into an infantry phalanx and began a bloody slaughter, even the most formidable soldiers would break, to say nothing of ordinary militia. The difference was that a squad of soldiers could retreat in an orderly fashion, cutting their losses to a minimum, while the common militia in a phalanx would only rout and flee, trampling each other in the chaos.

In the face of powerful monsters, an infantry phalanx truly had no practical value, unless the soldiers forming it were as fearless of death as the Ant-men.

Dejected and lost, Narsen felt a pat on his shoulder. Bruce said, “We have strong castles. Even if the Ant-man army really comes, we have nothing to worry about. As for the secret art you’ve contributed… to be honest, the York family has no way to reward you for it. How about this: I’ll have Harvey teach you our family’s secret martial arts in exchange. There are some secret herbal formulas in there that are very helpful for soldiers. What do you think?”

“Excellent!”

Narsen was overjoyed. A mercenary’s craving for secret martial arts was practically bone-deep. He agreed without a moment’s hesitation.

“I have a feeling my lord will definitely be able to solve these problems,” Narsen said again.

“What?” Bruce asked, confused.

“Supplies, equipment, the soldiers’ will to fight, land, and the Church… all these problems, Lord Victor will find a way to solve them all!”

Narsen’s unwavering faith in Victor left Bruce speechless.

Chapter 225: Captured

The vast, boundless Lizard Marsh was actually a massive basin. Due to its low-lying terrain, the Goldwater River would swell during the rainy season, its waters pouring into the basin to form a series of interconnected lakes, while innumerable small hills became a dense scattering of islands.

By the fourth month of the Season of Water, snow would drift from the sky and temperatures would drop to freezing, turning the Lizard Marsh into a world of ice and snow. During this time, the marsh’s native inhabitants would hide in their nests, quietly awaiting the arrival of the Season of Earth. This was the most peaceful time of year in the Great Marsh.

At this moment, however, a fierce battle was raging in the depths of the marsh.

“Roar!”

The frenzied roar of a Marsh Dragon-Lizard shattered the tranquility within a five-kilometer radius. The nearby marsh dwellers were startled awake, but instead of crawling out to investigate, they hid themselves deeper in their nests, not daring to reveal the slightest presence.

Every Marsh Dragon-Lizard was a creature in a savage state. Their tough bodies granted them brutish strength, astonishing agility, and terrifying stamina. Their racial talent for Extraordinary Regeneration, coupled with the wild instincts of a dire animal, made these cruel and bloodthirsty beasts one of the top predators in the Great Marsh.

Although the Marsh Dragon-Lizards were strong and fierce, they were not so formidable as to make other apex predators keep their distance, especially during the food-scarce Season of Water, when any bloody slaughter would draw the greedy gazes of opportunistic onlookers. Mindlessly simple yet massive beasts like the Six-legged Giant Crocodile or the Giant Python wouldn’t care who was hunting; they only wanted a piece of the action. As for the swarming Serpent Fiends, even a Marsh Dragon-Lizard would flee at the sight of them.

However, the roars of this Marsh Dragon-Lizard had been echoing for half an hour, and still no other beast had dared to enter the battlefield. This was because the creature roaring was a behemoth over nineteen meters long. It was a full four times larger than an ordinary Dragon-Lizard. Its pillar-like limbs alone were three meters tall, and when it stood at its full height, its shoulders reached five meters from the ground. Its fearsome claws could effortlessly pin down a capybara weighing several hundred pounds. Its dark, metallic scales were the size of a child’s palm, and its massive head, with its bloody maw full of sharp teeth, could swallow an adult human whole.

Its enormous size, two savage heads, and a tail covered in spines all indicated that this was an Aberrant Marsh Dragon-Lizard. This was the very creature the Lizardmen revered as Itugos, the great beast of the water.

Itugos was the overlord of this region; all fearsome predators within a four-hundred-kilometer radius had long since been slaughtered by it.

The nearby marsh dwellers had not heard the sound of Itugos’s battle roar for a long time. Any opponent that could drive a hegemon-class beast into such a frenzy had to be a terrifying foe. Both the intelligent Lizardmen and the cautious, timid beasts wisely chose to remain hidden. And the unlucky ones caught in the crossfire discovered before their deaths that the creatures fighting the giant beast were a group of strange beings they had never seen before.

They walked upright like Lizardmen but were short, not even tall enough to reach the beast’s belly. They had no tails, scales, sharp teeth, or claws. Yet these seemingly weak and tasty little things were causing the behemoth overlord to roar in fury and stumble about in a sorry state. Its thick tail was clamped tightly beneath its belly, an especially comical sight.

“Aaargh!”

With another roar, Itugos slammed its massive claw at a small creature that had infuriated it. However, the little thing darted away like a sturgeon in water, dodging several meters. The giant claw struck empty ground, scooping up hundreds of pounds of icy mud and flinging it at the group of cunning creatures.

Hurling mud was no longer the tactic of a simple beast. Itugos’s four yellowish-brown, vertical pupils flickered with anger, tension, anxiety, and worry. It was hard to imagine a bloodthirsty Aberration capable of expressing such a rich variety of human-like emotions.

The mud and ice sprayed out in a fan shape toward five agile little creatures. This barrage of mud and snow served to obscure their vision and slow them down, while the ice chunks, carrying powerful kinetic energy, were enough to kill the strongest capybara. But Itugos already knew this attack would be futile. The five little things flipped and twisted, nimbly dodging the whistling ice blocks, but were inevitably struck by the mud. This was the opportunity Itugos had painstakingly created.

“Raaawr!”

With a soul-shattering roar, the beast took a sudden stride forward. One massive head skimmed the ground, blasting out a powerful jet of air, while the other reared up high, ready to launch a lightning-fast bite in the next moment!

Hurl mud to slow the enemy, roar to stun them, blast air to break their balance, and bite to end their life. This entire sequence of tactics was aimed at taking down a single enemy. And though there were dozens more like him, Itugos failed again.

Thwip! Fwssh!

A crossbow bolt as thick as a pigeon’s egg struck Itugos’s raised head. The piercing whistle of its passage arrived a moment later. A needle-like pain sent the beast into a rage, its berserk instincts interrupting the lightning-fast bite.

“Nngh!”

On a small island several kilometers away, the Wizard Imosen let out a grunt. The sudden, sharp pain caused the red runic halo around him to waver and scatter. He gritted his teeth against the needle-prick agony on his cheek, struggling to maintain the red runes. In the void ten centimeters from his face, the mysterious, fiery red runes stabilized once more, slowly rotating in some arcane fashion.

At the same time, Itugos stopped chasing the source of its pain and raised its head, searching for its abducted little master. When it saw the enemy carrying its little master was getting farther away, it broke into a run to give chase. The other enemies around it followed relentlessly, constantly harassing it from the sides.

He hadn’t lost them!

The Wizard Imosen breathed a sigh of relief, and the stinging on his cheek subsided. Itugos had clearly used its powerful muscles to squeeze the crossbow bolt out of its face, and the insignificant wound had healed in a few breaths. But the sharp pain in his rear grew even more intense. Imosen’s face contorted in agony—this was the negative side effect of his Wizardry, Wisdom Guidance.

A father’s powerful love conquered the unbearable pain. Imosen followed his daughter’s figure through Itugos’s eyes, simultaneously observing these powerful humans and wracking his brain for a way to rescue Bel.

To escape the Radiant Church’s pursuit, Imosen had been hiding with Bel in the Great Marsh for eleven years. He had survived in the perilous Lizard Marsh by relying on his Wizardry, which allowed him to communicate with and create Aberrant creatures.

At first, Imosen had created a few dozen Aberrant Rats to act as his bodyguards, and life was extremely difficult. That changed when he successfully created an Aberration from a Marsh Dragon-Lizard, making it his primary focus. Nourished by flesh and blood, the Marsh Dragon-Lizard quickly grew into a two-headed Aberrant Dragon-Lizard. Imosen gave it the name Philip, but the Lizardmen called it Itugos, the great beast of the water.

The powerful Itugos helped the father and daughter carve out a territory of four hundred square kilometers, securing a foothold in the Great Marsh. With the threat of Itugos, the Half-dragon tribes no longer disturbed Imosen and his daughter, and the two sides established a cool, coexistent relationship. The Half-dragons were fierce and barbaric, but they were a sapient species. Through in-depth exchanges and mutual benefit, life for Imosen and Bel gradually stabilized, and their supply of resources grew much more abundant.

This stable life had made Imosen lower his guard. Bel had started wandering farther and for longer periods of time when she went out to play. Today, disaster had finally struck.

This morning, Bel had gone out to play accompanied by ten Aberrant Rats and had not returned by noon. Imosen hadn’t been worried at the time; any large beasts within a twenty-kilometer radius had either been eaten by Philip or had fled. The ten Aberrant Rats alone were enough to ensure Bel’s safety. But the moment the psychic link with the Aberrant Rats was broken, Imosen knew Bel was in danger.

Imosen immediately summoned Philip and cast Wisdom Guidance to go rescue Bel.

Wisdom Guidance merged Imosen’s soul with Philip’s, allowing him to perceive the outside world through Philip’s senses and guide his actions. All of Philip’s sensations were also projected onto him.

Philip was enormous, its strength countless times greater than that of an ordinary Dragon-Lizard, but its agility had inevitably decreased slightly. However, each of its steps covered a great distance. At a full run, it quickly reached the scene, but in that short time, all ten Aberrant Rats had been killed.

His heart pounding in fear, Imosen saw a group of fully armed human soldiers and a pack of dire wolves. It was they who had killed his Aberrant Rats. Mercifully, they had not harmed Bel but were retreating quickly with her in tow. Judging by their escape route, it seemed they had known all along that Philip was coming.

Imosen had no time to think. He hated villains who tried to abduct Bel most of all. Under his guidance, Philip lunged forward, and thus the battle began.

The formidable combat power of this group of soldiers shocked Imosen. They showed no fear in the face of the terrifying, two-headed Aberrant Dragon-Lizard. Their movements were supernaturally agile, and they continuously returned fire with their crossbows while dodging attacks. Even though their crossbow bolts were almost completely ineffective against Philip, they never ceased their seemingly useless assault.

Imosen was no ignorant peasant. Before he became a fugitive, he had been a Vassal of the Grell Family, the Baron’s master of the hunt. The combat prowess of these men far surpassed that of ordinary soldiers. Imosen reckoned that if they weren’t Knights, they were at least apprentice knights. Yet, the Grell Family didn’t even have a single full knight, only two apprentice knights. Those two apprentice knights were rarely seen, and on the few occasions Imosen did see them, they were always surrounded by an entourage, their noses high in the air. But here, there were forty-seven of them!

Forty-seven apprentice knights? Imosen couldn’t even fathom it. He only knew that apprentice knights were high-ranking figures who were always surrounded by guards. Why would they venture deep into the Great Marsh to engage in kidnapping? And why would forty-seven of them appear at once?

Then, Imosen noticed even more strange things. These people were more agile than apes, always managing to avoid Philip’s claws and bites at the last possible second. Perhaps an apprentice knight had such ability, but they definitely couldn’t do this!

Philip’s massive size and savage aura were enough to paralyze weaker creatures with fear. When it unleashed its soul-shattering roar, even an Ogre would be seized with panic.

Once, when Philip had attacked an Ogre camp and torn apart two adult Ogres in succession, the Ogre chief had fought it. The Ogre chief was sent rolling on the ground by Philip’s tail and immediately went berserk, hacking into Philip’s flesh with its giant obsidian axe and inflicting several gruesome wounds. But the Aberrant Dragon-Lizard’s powerful regenerative ability drove it to despair. In the end, the battered Ogre chief retreated with its tribe members as Philip’s terrifying roar echoed through the sky.

That battle had established Philip’s status as overlord, and the Half-dragon tribe had come to revere it as Itugos.

Philip’s soul-shattering roar had a stunning effect on low-level creatures, making their muscles go limp and rendering them unable to move. It was a fear that stemmed from the very instinct for life. How much combat prowess could an apprentice knight muster in such a state? The slightest hesitation would get them smashed into a pulp by Philip. Yet these human warriors were completely immune to the roar, fighting at one hundred percent capacity, facing life and death calmly without so much as a change in expression.

In fact, Imosen suspected these warriors were not even human at all!

The two-headed Dragon-Lizard might seem clumsy, but it was capable of swift attacks. Its tail strikes and lightning-fast bites had killed several of these agile warriors. Philip had launched its lightning-fast bite and successfully snatched two enemies. But those two warriors, their bodies broken, had actually used their short swords to stab at Philip’s tongue from inside its mouth!

Even now, Imosen’s own tongue still ached a little, and these fearless, pain-immune warriors made his blood run cold.

It was terrifying enough that they felt no fear and ignored pain, their combat prowess leaving Imosen horrified. But their intelligence was what truly made his heart tremble with fear.

Philip’s tail strikes were even swifter than its lightning-fast bites. It had crushed three enemies with its tail. But the warriors seized that opportunity to fire their crossbows at Philip’s rear! The bolts were ineffective against Philip’s body but could penetrate its soft backside. Philip could normally push the bolts out, but before it could push one out, several more would follow.

The extreme pain nearly broke his Wisdom Guidance. Imosen clenched his buttocks, enduring the agony, and guided Philip to clamp its tail down as well, naturally disabling its tail strike. The warriors had also found a way to counter the lightning-fast bite. They had three terrifying heavy crossbows, powerful enough to pierce Philip’s scale armor and interrupt its attack. Imosen had tried to guide Philip to destroy those heavy crossbows, but he had failed every time. The dozens of warriors coordinated, tossing the crossbows between them, leaving Philip with no way to get its claws on them.

Fortunately, these “apprentice knights” had no way of dealing with Philip either; they just kept running. Although Philip could catch up to the man holding Bel, its massive body became an obstacle to rescuing her. He couldn’t just grab Bel and kill her along with her captor, could he?

Imosen had sent out all of his Aberrant Rats, and they had all died! They died in the jaws of those dire wolves! Imosen was filled with regret. If he had known this would happen, he would have raised more Aberrant Rats.

Devouring flesh was an instinct for Aberrant creatures. The more flesh they consumed, the more they would mutate. Therefore, Imosen couldn’t afford to keep too many Aberrant Rats. After getting the Marsh Dragon-Lizard, he had even sacrificed half of his rats specifically to focus on raising Philip. He had fewer than twenty left, which he usually kept in hibernation underground, feeding them only once every three days. This also meant their combat power was at its lowest, otherwise they wouldn’t have been killed so easily by the dire wolves.

The battle between Philip and these “apprentice knights” was like a bear fighting a swarm of bees. Neither could do anything to the other. The situation was a stalemate.

The only way now was to use Philip’s monstrous stamina to wear these warriors down. But he couldn’t press them too hard, lest they harm Bel.

Just as Imosen was mulling over his options, a cold dagger was placed against his neck.

“Rogue Wizard! You are attacking the Empire’s logistics system. In accordance with the Empire’s military regulations, I order you to cease your aggressive actions and await interrogation by the Master!”

The sharp cold at his throat and the detached, emotionless voice made Imosen’s heart sink to the bottom.

“Cyr, I think you need to go get some training from Instructor Baritt. For a situation like this, you should do this!”

Thump!

A heavy blow struck the back of his head. Imosen’s vision went black, and just before he lost consciousness completely, he saw the runic halo dissolve into motes of light and vanish into the air.

It’s over!

In that instant, the great beast Itugos was free! It let its tail down and roared, charging toward the one who had just caused it pain. That Lithe Ape militiaman turned and ran, with several Warhounds giving chase. The deafening roar gradually faded into the distance as the other militiamen quickly retreated east with Bel.

——————————————

In the small Church in River Mouth Town.

Father Miller put down the herbs in his hand and looked up to the east. His cloudy old eyes shone with joy and relief, but also… confusion and pain.

Miller’s son had been a Wizard, whom Miller himself had reported at birth, leading to his Purification.

Chapter 226: The Castle in the Mountains

A small, cool hand touched his face. Imosen shivered and mumbled, “Bel, don’t mess around. Let Papa sleep a little longer.”

The familiar sensation vanished. Imosen’s eyes flew open, and he immediately saw Bel’s little face. He hugged his precious, recovered daughter tightly, crying out, “Bel! Bel, my baby, Papa’s here, Papa’s here!”

Perhaps it was because his stubble scratched her tender face, or perhaps because his embrace was too tight, making it hard to breathe. Bel tugged on her father’s beard, desperately pushing his head back. But Imosen only held her small, frail body closer, terrified that if he loosened his grip, his precious daughter would disappear without a trace.

After wailing for some time, Imosen gradually calmed down. He found himself lying on a stretcher, covered with a thick sheepskin blanket. The straw raincoat woven from sawgrass that Bel had been wearing was gone, replaced by a small sheepskin coat, over which was draped a sheepskin cloak. Dressed like this, Bel no longer looked like a little savage, but like a little girl from a civilized society.

Imosen could no longer clearly remember what civilized society looked like. Seeing Bel’s current appearance, a wave of bitterness washed over his heart. When they had fled, Bel was only three years old. Father and daughter had relied on each other, living in seclusion in the Great Marsh for more than ten years, with beastmen as their neighbors, living a primitive life of eating raw meat and drinking blood. Imosen had originally thought he and Bel would live out their days as savages in the Great Marsh. He never expected to see his own kind again, much less as a captive.

Pulling Bel close to his side, Imosen began to survey his surroundings.

It was a simple camp. Dozens of “apprentice knights” were scattered about. Some were standing guard on the perimeter, others were busy roasting game. No one spoke, and no one came to disturb them. Only a few crackling bonfires broke the silence.

As a Wizard who had to live in the shadows, Imosen was more than happy to be treated like he wasn’t there. This strange tranquility actually put him at ease. The bonfire beside him flickered gently, its light casting a comfortable warmth upon him. As he relaxed, Imosen caught the scent of an alluring aroma.

Over a nearby bonfire, a sturgeon over a meter long was being roasted to a golden brown. An “apprentice knight” was brushing something onto it. Meanwhile, a pot of hot soup was simmering over the fire next to them. The fragrant steam made Imosen’s throat bob, and Bel’s little stomach rumbled, “Gulu, gulu.”

A few apprentice knights brought the roasted sturgeon and the pot of hot soup to the father and daughter. Only then did Imosen realize that the pot was actually the shell of a Marsh Mud Turtle, merely coated with a layer of mud on the outside. Not only had the unlucky turtle become a pot, but its meat was also tumbling about inside its own shell.

Taking a spoon and a small dagger, the father and daughter began to eat ravenously. The roasted fish was crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, and the meat soup was savory and delicious. The salty flavor, in particular, was deeply satisfying to them both.

Imosen didn’t even know how long it had been since he had last tasted real salt. In the Great Marsh, the Lizardmen supplemented their salt intake by either eating a type of salt earth directly or by drinking capybara blood. Imosen would wrap his prey in salt earth and bake it to absorb the salt. How could such a crude method compare to refined salt produced by humans? As Imosen ate, tears began to well up in his eyes.

Before long, the famished father and daughter had finished the entire sturgeon. The turtle meat was all in their bellies as well. Bel held the large turtle shell and slurped the warm, thick soup, her little belly bulging, yet she refused to stop. An “apprentice knight” unceremoniously took the shell from her and handed it to Imosen. Bel’s little mouth drooped. She hid behind her father, glaring resentfully at the villain who had stolen her food, then timidly retracted her gaze, contenting herself with pulling her father’s hair to vent her dissatisfaction. Imosen hesitated, but Bel really couldn’t drink any more. He simply drank the rest of the soup himself.

The “apprentice knights’” kind gesture soothed the Wizard’s anxious mood. He wiped his mouth and asked cautiously, “Sirs, who are you?”

No one answered. Imosen tried again, “What are you going to do with us?”

“Rogue Wizard, sir, we are to take you back to be questioned by our lord.”

The moment this “apprentice knight” spoke, Imosen knew it was the man who had subdued him with the short sword.

Just as Imosen was about to ask more, another “apprentice knight” walked over and said, “Cyr, say no more!”

That’s the one who knocked me out! Imosen thought to himself.

“Jack, according to regulations, we are to afford the Mage the treatment he deserves, including aid and the right to relevant information,” Cyr said, looking at Jack calmly. Many of the other “apprentice knights” also turned to look at Jack with the same expression.

Jack’s mind was a bit of a mess; he probably had a headache. Alchemical humans were different from alchemical puppets. They had independent intelligence and the capacity to learn. Through learning, the Alchemical militia could develop a degree of emotional intelligence. That fellow Reno, for instance, could already understand crude jokes, though he remained completely unmoved by others’ ridicule. But learning took time. Alchemical humans who had not undergone such learning could only act according to the content of their Will Side.

Over two months ago, Victor had ordered Jack to lead fifty Alchemical militia, twenty Alchemical Warhounds, and eighty alchemical crows on a reconnaissance mission into the Great Marsh. The specifics included mapping the area, searching for information on the Ant-men, surveying for resources, confirming monster and beastmen gathering spots, and paying attention to any anomalies.

This morning, an alchemical crow had discovered a small human girl and ten aberrant rats. Jack remembered that on his first entry into the Great Marsh to collect Purification Crystals, he had found the footprints of a human child. This fell into the category of anomalies that Victor had mentioned.

Thus, Jack decided to bring the little girl back, which in turn led to the appearance of the Aberrant Dragon-Lizard—Itugos. While the Alchemical militia were chasing and tangling with the giant beast, the alchemical crows detected Imosen several kilometers away, resulting in Jack and Cyr capturing the Wizard in the middle of casting a spell.

To the Alchemical militia, Imoson the Wizard was a Rogue Wizard. According to the laws of the Alchemical Empire, Mages held a high social status. Even criminal Rogue Wizards had to be handed over to the Mages’ Association for processing, and in the meantime, they were to be afforded the treatment due to a Mage.

Alchemical militia like Cyr followed Victor’s orders to the letter, never mentioning the Néier Empire, never revealing their identity as Alchemical humans or the secrets of the Alchemy Tower. But Victor had never specified what Alchemical humans should do if they encountered a Wizard.

In fact, to most people, Wizards were mysterious and unpredictable, their actions secretive. They were like mythical figures, existing only in stories passed down by word of mouth. Victor’s knowledge of Wizards was limited, and he was unclear about the status of the Wizard community in the Alchemical Empire. He certainly had not expected Jack and his men to encounter one.

The mission details Victor had issued were rather general, but Jack was one of the first Lithe Ape militiamen. He had spent two years mingling with ordinary humans and had been trained by Instructor Baritt. His intelligence and common sense were more than sufficient to lead this mission. However, the other Alchemical militia were mainly from the secret fortress. They lacked the developmental experience of the Elite Guards and naturally had to adhere to the inherent operational standards in their Will Side.

Cyr and the others did not know that Wizards were now universally despised, like rats scurrying across the street for everyone to beat. Jack, on the other hand, couldn’t be sure if Mages in the Alchemical Empire were the same as the Wizards of today, but he had already learned to be prudent. Out of caution, Jack gave a direct order, “From now on, you are not to speak to these two again.”

“Yes, sir!”

All the Alchemical militia responded in unison. The sharp, synchronized sound startled the father and daughter.

“Master Jack, wait!”

Imosen could already see that this “apprentice knight” named Jack was the one whose word was law among these men. He called out to the departing Jack, “May I ask if your master is a lord of the Sasan Empire?”

Although Jack did not answer, with his and his daughter’s fate at stake, Imosen summoned his courage and pressed on, “You’re not Sacred Warriors from the Radiant Church, are you?”

“Where are you taking us?”

“What will your master do with us?”

“My abilities will surely be of great value to your master. I beg you not to harm my daughter and me.”

His incessant questioning finally elicited a response from Jack. “Wizard, sir, rest well. We will ensure the safety of you and your daughter.”

The word “Wizard” pierced Imosen’s courage like a needle. He collapsed to the ground, pleading at Jack’s retreating back, “Master Jack, I beg you, spare Bel. She is innocent…”

Jack thought for a moment, then, mimicking Victor, he waved his hand without turning back, a gesture that served as his response to Imosen.

For the next three days, Imosen and his daughter followed the group of warriors, traveling by day and resting by night, trekking eastward. Along the way, Imosen noticed that these taciturn warriors almost never communicated. It was as if each person knew what to do and when, a grim and silent coordination that was downright chilling. However, they took rather good care of the father and daughter. Although they never responded to Imosen’s indirect probing, his small requests were mostly met. Not only did they have delicious food and warm fur coats every day, they were even carried on a stretcher. This meticulous care put Imosen at ease, but at the same time, his mind began to race with possibilities.

On the noon of the fourth day, the party arrived at the edge of a cliff.

The Season of Water was nearly over. The ice and snow were melting, and streams of water converged into waterfalls that hung from the cliff face. Water splashed everywhere, mist filled the air, and amidst the roaring sound of water, a brilliant rainbow stretched across the entire sky.

Seeing such a magnificent sight for the first time, Bel stood with her mouth agape, lost in a daze. Imosen’s eyes, however, flickered as he glanced around from time to time, as if looking for something.

The party followed the cliff face for another two kilometers, and the scattered warriors gradually gathered together. When they stopped, a dark green figure ran over from the distance. It was a powerfully built dire wolf. Then came a second, and a third… before long, a full fourteen dire wolves had joined the party.

Bel was frightened and hid behind her father, yet she peeked out curiously at these robust and fierce “big dogs.” The fluffy creatures sat on the ground one by one, their blood-red tongues lolling out as they panted heavily. They didn’t seem so ferocious, but rather a bit oafish. Bel was no longer afraid, but she noticed that her own father was trembling slightly. She gently shook Imosen’s hand, comforting him not to be scared.

Imosen trembled not from fear, but from excitement.

For four days, these stern warriors had taken good care of him and Bel, but Imosen had not forgotten the fact that he and his daughter were captives. As a Wizard, and as a father, Imosen was unwilling to entrust his daughter’s fate to that mysterious “master,” especially since he had also killed five of their warriors.

Imosen was a powerful Wizard. Even the Ogre chief would give the great beast he controlled a wide berth. Unfortunately, his Wisdom Guidance had been forcibly interrupted. Itugos had gained its freedom, becoming a true Aberrant behemoth that would never again answer his call, and all his Aberrant Rats had been lost, not a single one remaining. Imosen was like a beast that had lost its claws and fangs, completely lacking the strength to protect himself. But, as long as he had a chance, he could stage a comeback!

Now, his chance had come!

Imosen had mastered three types of Wizardry: Will Communion, Biological Aberration, and Wisdom Guidance.

Imosen could understand the languages of all intelligent species, and they, in turn, could understand him, even if he only made grunting noises. As long as the words were spoken or heard by Imosen, both parties could accurately grasp each other’s meaning. This was Will Communion.

Understanding languages was just a side effect of Will Communion; its true purpose was to control animals.

Imosen could directly communicate with the souls of non-intelligent species, understand their intentions, and silently leave a rune mark upon their souls. Over time, the rune mark would gradually corrode the soul of the non-intelligent species, turning them into Imosen’s servants.

Any animal or insect completely under Imosen’s control would undergo an aberration as long as it consumed fresh flesh and blood. The more flesh and blood it consumed, the higher the degree of aberration. This was Imosen’s second ability—Biological Aberration.

When a controlled creature entered a state of deep aberration, Imosen could cast Wisdom Guidance on a single target, sharing their perception and senses, and issuing commands directly on a spiritual level.

Strictly speaking, Imosen could only truly cast two types of Wizardry, because Biological Aberration was an extension of Will Communion, with passive and irreversible properties. And Will Communion required no spellcasting; as long as he was within five meters, Imosen could imprint a rune on the target’s soul. The time required for Will Communion varied depending on the species.

Through constant experimentation, Imosen discovered that the time needed for Will Communion was directly proportional to the species’ intelligence. For an insect like a spider, he could complete the rune mark in the blink of an eye. However, a controlled insect only possessed the instinct to kill and eat. It wouldn’t listen to commands at all. Besides Imosen, it would attack all living things, including Bel. Whenever Imosen summoned it, it would crawl over, only to immediately crawl away again in search of prey. He had to issue a continuous stream of commands to make it stop. Not only was it exhausting for Imosen, he could only control one insect. Thus, he had decisively stomped the creature to death and never nurtured an aberrant insect again.

Animals like dogs, cats, and rats were excellent targets for control. Among them, dogs had the highest intelligence. They could overcome the killing instinct of Biological Aberration and act entirely according to Imosen’s will, as obedient as soldiers. The problem was that the combat power of cats and dogs was limited. They couldn’t catch much prey and were prone to dying in the early stages. Rats, on the other hand, had extremely strong survival abilities. Just by eating insects, they could complete their preliminary aberration, and their intelligence was even higher than a cat’s. This was why Imosen had chosen to create Aberrant Rats.

How could common creatures compare to dire beasts? The dire wolves before him were the perfect targets for control!

Although he didn’t know why these soldiers were accompanied by dire wolves, Imosen had been keeping a close eye on their movements. Now that the dire wolves finally appeared before him, he would not miss this opportunity to turn the tables!

Imosen forced himself to calm down, nonchalantly taking two steps forward. Seeing no reaction from the surrounding soldiers, he slowly ambled towards the dire wolves.

Closer and closer! He was about to enter casting range! Just one more step…

Imosen gritted his teeth, about to take the final step, when suddenly his clothes were pulled tight—it was Bel!

With one foot hanging in the air and a little shadow tugging at his clothes, everyone’s eyes fixed on him. In that instant, Imosen was drenched in sweat, his heart pounding like a drum.

“Baby, don’t be afraid! Didn’t you want to see the big dogs? These are the big dogs I told you about.”

In a flash of inspiration, Imosen wrapped an arm around Bel and comforted her in a low voice. Bel looked at her father, bewildered; she had never expressed any desire to see big dogs. Imosen paid no mind to his daughter’s confusion. He requested of Jack, “My lord, can we get closer to these big dogs? My daughter has never seen a dog before.”

Jack nodded expressionlessly. Imosen let out a long sigh of relief and finally took the most crucial step.

Will Communion, activate!

Imosen had already thought it through. Controlling a dire wolf would definitely not take longer than controlling the Marsh Dragon-Lizard. At most, it would take ten minutes to control one. He would seize the opportunity, find a way to stall for time, and control as many as he could. Then, through the soul connection, he would command the dire wolves to act normally. As for what came next, he would play it by ear.

Regardless of whether the dire wolves had a chance to become aberrant, they possessed formidable combat power on their own.

Imosen’s consciousness broke into the dire wolf’s mind. He saw a ball of light the size of a lark’s egg—the dire wolf’s soul.

But why is this dire wolf’s soul so much smaller and brighter than an ordinary dog’s?!

Imosen did not hesitate, eager to leave his rune mark. As his consciousness delved deeper, he saw a dark-gold sphere of light. This sphere was profound and ancient, majestic as a mountain, vast as the sea, exuding an aura of eternal indestructibility. And it was inscribed with dense, innumerable runes.

“Ah!”

Imosen had only glimpsed a small fraction of the runes when his brain felt like it was being torn apart. He couldn’t help but let out a bloodcurdling scream before fainting.

He didn’t know how long he had been unconscious when he was awakened by a basin of cold water. In his blurred vision, Bel’s small face gradually became clear. Imosen endured the excruciating pain in his head and struggled to sit up. He saw Jack and another man standing beside him.

“Wizard, sir, please do not cast any more mental spells on us. It will only bring you harm.”

Jack pointed to the man beside him and said, “This is Busuo. For the time being, he will arrange for your living situation.”

Imosen sheltered Bel behind him and said weakly, “Master Busuo, may I see the master of this place?”

“That is for my lord to decide.”

Busuo said flatly, “Wizard, sir, you will live in this castle and await our lord’s summons. Do not leave the castle without my permission. Also, I have prepared some medicine to restore your spirit, which can slow the worsening of your injury. Until your Soul Fire is repaired, do not attempt to use Wizardry again. It could cause your Soul Fire to be extinguished.”

A castle? A castle built in the mountains? So this was no longer the Great Marsh!

Imosen realized he was standing on a mountainside, surrounded by tall hills. A forty-meter-tall castle stood not far ahead.

“Bel, you can live in a castle, just like a princess.”

Imosen forced a smile for his daughter. He completely failed to notice the strange light shimmering in Bel’s eyes, as several majestic and ancient wills silently observed their surroundings through those clear pupils.

Chapter 227: The Evening Banquet

The ice and snow melted, and all things revived.

Unconsciously, the Season of Earth had arrived in Blinor City. The rain and snow had washed this beautiful city clean, leaving it looking brand new. Though a faint chill still lingered in the crisp air, it was invigorating. Residents began to leave their warm homes and take to the streets, reawakening the vitality of the Royal Capital.

The arrival of the Season of Earth marked the end of the annual “holiday.” It was now time for the nobles of the Royal Capital to get back to work. Their first order of business was to attend various gatherings, probing for information amidst the socializing to determine their direction for development and advancement in the coming year.

A fleet of small carriages shuttled back and forth along the streets of the Nobles’ District. Well-dressed gentlemen encountered one another on the street, whether by chance or by design. They exchanged pleasantries and greetings, casually and yet deliberately discussing how one might procure an invitation to the banquet at Marquess Leopold’s estate. If someone were to reservedly mention that they were, in fact, on their way to the Marquess’s estate for that very event, they would immediately be met with looks of envy and jealousy.

The families who could afford to settle in the Royal Capital’s Nobles’ District were all the cream of Gambis’s high society, but even among them, there were clear hierarchies.

Among the nobles of the Royal Capital, aside from the representatives of the great provincial lords, the rest were court nobles. Court nobles were, in essence, vassals of the royal family, but they were different from the vassals of a territorial lord.

A lord’s vassals were comprised of vassal lords and commoner vassals. Their lands were called hereditary fiefs, which could be passed down through generations. Court nobles, on the other hand, were all of noble birth. They did not possess hereditary lands, but they could manage the royal family’s lands. This was known as a non-hereditary fief.

Take Gambis, for example. The second son of a certain lord’s family might distinguish himself in the royal military tournament and swear fealty to the Auguste family. The royal family would immediately grant him the title of Court Baron or Viscount, but this title was purely a symbol of status; it came with no land and could not be inherited. If this Court Baron carefully cultivated his descendants, ensuring his children continued to serve the royal family, his family might, after several generations of unremitting effort, be granted the title of Court Earl, which was hereditary. From then on, this Court Earl’s family could move into the Nobles’ District of the Royal Capital and gain the right to manage a fief.

Unlike a hereditary fief, the ownership of this land belonged to the royal family. The Court Earl’s family merely managed the territory on behalf of their liege lord. They had to use the fief’s produce to support the kingdom’s soldiers and submit a certain quota of goods, with the remainder being the family’s income. If they failed to meet their obligations, they had to cover the shortfall with their own stipend. Otherwise, they would face reprimands from their superiors, a reduction in the size of their fief, or, in the most severe cases, a demotion in rank. In essence, it was a leasing relationship.

Court nobles would always use various social maneuvers to try and secure a reduction in their quota, or at the very least, prevent an increase. Therefore, the banquets hosted by the great nobles of the Royal Capital were of paramount importance to them.

The greatest ambition of a court noble was to obtain a hereditary fief and become a new family of territorial lords, or to be fully integrated into the bloodline of the Auguste family. Marquess Goron Auguste, for instance, had married King Ryan’s aunt, and he also possessed a hereditary marquessate in the northern part of the kingdom. Of course, there was little distinction between his lands and those of the Auguste family. In fact, to maintain the purity of their bloodline, the royal family had always had few children. Ryan had only one son and one daughter, and Williams had only one son; this was considered a flourishing branch of the family. Some royal houses had only a single heir for generations, sometimes even facing the crisis of a broken line. If the Gambis royal line were to be broken, Marquess Goron’s descendants would have to bear the heavy responsibility of continuing the royal bloodline.

A Marquess was the highest hereditary title for a court noble, and they often held important positions at court.

As the new Minister of Finance of Gambis, Marquess Leopold controlled the fief quotas, making him a major figure courted by all in the Royal Capital. Every court noble of any standing hoped to curry favor with the Minister of Finance. Moreover, receiving an invitation to Marquess Leopold’s estate was in itself a demonstration of one’s ability and connections. Those families who were not invited would inevitably be looked down upon, and ostracism and suppression would soon follow.

With the Minister of Finance hosting a banquet, the capital’s nobles would stop at nothing to get an invitation, yet they were surprised to find that extremely few families had actually been invited. This was not normal. Even if Marquess Leopold was a trusted confidant of Grand Duke Williams, he could not afford to offend so many court nobles at once. If they could have walked into the Marquess’s estate, they would have been shocked to discover that this was no simple banquet.

As evening fell, the lamps were lit.

Marquess Leopold’s banquet had already concluded, and the distinguished guests had moved from the drawing-room to the main hall of the estate.

The magnificent hall, spanning over eight hundred square meters, was laid with red tung wood floorboards. Flooring made of tung wood was quite common, but if each plank had been soaked in water for over a hundred years, its value could no longer be measured in money. Two long tables of red tung wood were placed on either side of the hall, laden with all manner of fine wines and delicacies. Golden vessels held thirty-year-aged Dumu wine, while silver platters were filled with candied greengages, creamed salmon tarts, honey and pine nut pastries, as well as vividly colored Sharlen fruit and a creamy lettuce salad. At this time of year, only the royal family’s crystal greenhouses could provide fresh fruits and vegetables.

Impeccably dressed attendants stood like statues beside the long tables, ready at a moment’s notice to serve the esteemed guests food and wine. Unfortunately, only a few young men and women occasionally approached, and even then, they barely took a taste before quickly returning to their seats. Partaking of the food was a sign of respect for the host, and the scions of noble families would not commit such a breach of etiquette on an occasion like this.

The guests were divided into two groups. The beautifully dressed noblewomen and young ladies sat in the lounge area to the left, holding decorative fans and whispering amongst themselves, their silvery laughter ringing out from time to time, drawing frequent admiring glances from the young noblemen. The nattily attired gentlemen were gathered in the lounge area to the right, standing in small groups of two or three, engaged in cordial conversation. In a short span of fifteen minutes, who knew how many agreements and understandings had been reached.

A closer look revealed that both the male and female guests had their own core figures. The host, Marquess Leopold, was conversing with a middle-aged nobleman, the Grand Vizier, Marquess Bastern. Meanwhile, the Intendant, Marquess Ludwig, accompanied the Vice-Speaker of the Senate, Marquess Grewald. There was also a handsome young nobleman surrounded by several talented youths; he was Earl Wengel Auguste, the only son of Marquess Goron and a Silver-rank Great Knight. Among the ladies, two women of particularly outstanding beauty and bearing were the center of fawning attention.

In comparison, the corner where Victor was situated seemed somewhat deserted, with only a single young nobleman of martial bearing for company. However, from the pricked-up ears of the male guests, it was clear that Victor’s corner was the true focus of everyone’s attention. As for the beautiful ladies, they had no need for the reserve of the men; their scorching gazes were almost enough to set Victor ablaze, and their soft whispers were filled with amorous talk concerning him.

“Victor, I didn’t expect you to be even more popular than I imagined. In a moment, will you be inviting Countess Caroline or Marchioness Jalie for the first dance?” the young nobleman teased lightly.

Victor looked up at the ladies across the hall, his scalp tightening. He didn’t know most of the female guests in the hall, but from their expressions and demeanor, he could tell that Countess Caroline and Marchioness Jalie were the two in the center. The topic of their conversation was the little Baron’s training in courtly etiquette. Although their voices were as faint as buzzing mosquitoes, who didn’t know that a Wind Walk Archer could hear a pin drop on the floor? Besides, the two beautiful ladies kept casting “plaintive” glances his way, as if they were lovers he had abandoned. Though they had both worn golden masks when they had been “tutoring” the little Baron, Victor could still recognize their voices and figures.

“Your Highness, I must ask you to see this good deed through to the end.”

Victor shook his head. He had been in the Royal Capital for over a month without being harassed. How could he not know who was responsible for that?

Williams gave Victor an appreciative look and shook his head. “Countess Caroline is the half-sister of a certain prince of Naville, and Lady Jalie is a noblewoman from a collateral branch of the Sooth royal family. Both are Silver-rank Great Knights. When they heard I was hosting a farewell banquet for you, they came especially to see you off. As the guest of honor, you can’t be rude, can you?” The implication was clear: I’ve been holding them off for you for a month, but these two women have backgrounds that are too powerful. I really can’t handle it anymore. You’ll have to fend for yourself.

Williams picked up a plate of creamy honey lettuce salad and handed it to Victor, changing the subject with a smile. “This cream is truly excellent. I heard the method for making it came from the Centaur Hills. Victor, have you heard who invented cream?”

I didn’t invent it! I plagiarized it.

Victor used his fork to pick up a piece of the lettuce salad and said softly, “Cream and honey are ultimately just condiments. Their value lies in making the main course more delicious.” He popped the salad into his mouth and added with a smile, “Here, the lettuce is the main course.”

“Haha! Well said!”

Williams roared with laughter, clapping Victor affectionately on the shoulder.

Marquess Leopold was hosting this banquet on behalf of Williams to entertain Victor. Regardless of how sincere Victor’s words were, as a representative of the York family and Sylvia’s lover, his statement was exactly what Williams wanted to hear. The hall was filled not only with the top families of Gambis and representatives of the great lords, but also nobles with ties to other kingdoms. Although most of the guests could hear their conversation, Williams had to laugh out loud to broadcast the close relationship between the royal family and the York family.

The atmosphere in the main hall became even more harmonious with Williams’s hearty laughter.

Victor was astute, and the more Williams looked at him, the more he liked him. He said with a grin, “Victor, you’ll be leaving the Royal Capital soon. I’ve prepared twenty cleansing potions and twenty vigor potions for you as a gift.”

The function of a cleansing potion was to purify a knight’s bloodline, helping noble scions awaken their Aura and giving them a certain chance to become an apprentice knight. However, an apprentice knight who advanced using a cleansing potion would never be able to progress any further.

A vigor potion could restore Aura, but consuming it would disrupt the balance of the four elements, thereby reducing a knight’s combat effectiveness. Moreover, its effect was most potent the first time it was used. Consecutive use was not only ineffective but could also lead to poisoning, requiring a ten-day recovery period before it could be taken again. The true purpose of a vigor potion was to help an apprentice knight break through to the rank of Knight. Since apprentice knights had not yet achieved a balance of the four elements, using a vigor potion when their Aura was depleted during the stimulation of an Elemental Node would greatly increase their chances of a successful promotion. Of course, a knight who advanced in this manner would find it nearly impossible to become a Silver Knight.

Vigor potions and cleansing potions shared the same drawbacks, but for smaller families, having a knight was better than having no knight at all. They would willingly pledge allegiance to the royal family to obtain these promotion potions. In short, these two potions were strategic resources the royal family used to win over people and strengthen their power. Minsk County in northern Gambis was a major source of the raw materials for these potions. The royal family had built the Minsk Fortress complex and deployed a heavy garrison there precisely to maintain a firm grip on these resources.

The price of both potions was over one thousand Gold Sol each. For Williams to give away forty potions at once was extremely generous. Unfortunately, Victor had no use for them, and the York family had similar formulas. In fact, ancient and well-established great families rarely used such potions. The resources a lord possessed were limited; creating too many knights with no potential would become a huge burden on the family. Compared to artificially created knights, they were more interested in acquiring powerful knight bloodlines.

“Your Highness, might I exchange these potions for a small request?” Victor said sincerely.

“Speak!” Williams waved his hand magnanimously.

As long as it’s not for money or supplies, I’ll agree to anything!

Victor smiled faintly. “Your Highness, I have tried to visit Archbishop Lazarus several times, but to no avail. Perhaps my status is too low… I would like to ask you to make an introduction for me.”

Williams secretly breathed a sigh of relief, then said with some hesitation, “That’s no problem, but I can’t make any guarantees.”

If you want the Church to aid the Centaur Hills, you’ll have to negotiate that yourself!

“That’s alright. I only wish to be able to listen to the Archbishop’s teachings.”

Williams gave a slight nod. “You may visit Archbishop Lazarus any time you wish.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

Victor was overjoyed. He didn’t want to visit the Archbishop to ask for aid, but for another purpose. However, the Archbishop had been avoiding him, so he had no choice but to ask Williams for help. Now, with the Grand Duke’s promise, the rest would be much easier.

Having earned a favor without spending any money or effort, Williams was also in high spirits. For a time, both host and guest were delighted, and the atmosphere was joyous and harmonious.

“Victor, I recently received some intelligence. The King of Dodor has executed Duke Erickson. The Duchy of Erickson has been demoted to a viscounty, and the Erickson family has handed over their excess territory to the Dodor Kingdom. His Majesty King Friedrich has granted that land to three powerful lords. One of them, Viscount Negus, is a wind-element Great Knight, and his territory happens to border your lands in the north. You must be very careful!” Williams said with a meaningful look, taking a sip of Dumu wine.

Victor frowned. The matter of Austin’s invasion of the Randell Fief had been fraught with strange circumstances. Sylvia believed the Dodor were behind it. Although there was no concrete evidence, sowing discord between the York family and the royal family would benefit the Dodor the most. The intelligence Williams shared seemed to confirm this. Seeing that their attempts to win them over had failed, the Dodor had begun to guard against the York family’s northward expansion. Placing a wind-element Great Knight on the border looked, for all intents and purposes, like a move targeting Victor and Soren.

Victor wasn’t worried about a military conflict; a few dozen Alchemical Warhounds would be more than enough to give the Dodor a massive headache. The problem that troubled him was that the relationship between the two sides would become tense. If the freemen caravans had no one to trade with and no supply points along their northbound journey, that would be a real issue.

However, these were troubles for the future.

Victor said, “Your Highness, Sir Soren’s territory also borders the Dodor’s sphere of influence.”

“I am recalling Soren. The Royal Capital’s Imperial Guard cannot be without him. As for the viscounty of Soren, his younger brother, Baron Boulos, will temporarily manage it. The defense of the Centaur Hills must still be handled by the Governor-General of the Centaur Hills,” Williams said, shaking his head.

At that moment, the melodious sound of a zither marked the overture of the ball.

Chapter 228: Petty Roland

“Victor, you’re the star of the evening. I won’t compete with you for the first dance. Go on, don’t keep the beautiful ladies waiting.”

Williams gestured with great chivalry, yet Victor couldn’t help but feel he was gloating. Across from them, the female guests all watched Victor with expectant eyes.

These dozen or so enchanting and beautiful noblewomen and socialites were all high-ranking female nobles, with more than a few Silver Knights among them. Most of them held the dominant position in their respective marriages; even if they took lovers, their spouses wouldn’t dare to object. Nobles with elven bloodlines had always been sought after by the great houses. A Wind Walk Archer like Victor was a rarity, perhaps appearing only once every few centuries. Regardless of whether they developed a deeper relationship, sharing the first dance with him was a matter of great prestige.

Victor was well aware of the subtleties of a noble ball. There had to be a reason why Williams had specifically introduced Countess Caroline and Marchioness Jalie. At a ball of this caliber, seeking pleasure was merely an optional diversion. They clearly had matters to discuss with Victor, and they were undoubtedly matters that required him to curry their favor.

Dancing with a beauty didn’t bother Victor, but choosing one dance partner meant offending the other lady. And women were the most vindictive of creatures!

Tap, tap, tap.

The sound of crystal shoes on the floor echoed from outside the great hall. The enchanting rhythm struck a chord in everyone’s heart, making them eager to see what manner of outstanding beauty the owner of the sound could be.

It was a young lady of exquisite beauty. The moment she entered the hall, even the candlelight seemed to dim. Her platinum-blonde hair was tied back in a simple ponytail with a gold band, a princess’s coronet sat upon her head, and she wore a snow-white princess gown of gauze. She held up her skirt as she hurried in, her exasperated expression doing nothing to diminish her peerless elegance.

“Your Highness, the Commander!”

Marquess Golan’s only son, Earl Wengel Auguste, quickly dropped to one knee in salute. As a member of the Glory Knights, Wengel was required to kneel before his liege lord, an honor not afforded to others. The rest of the guests bowed to the young lady.

“Greetings, Your Highness.”

A fresh fragrance washed over him. Wengel, still kneeling on the floor, felt a pang of mortified shame. He didn’t know whether to drop the plate of cream lettuce salad in his hands or keep holding it. At that moment, he wished a hole would open up in the ground and swallow him.

“Ha, the ball hasn’t started yet, has it? I made it just in time.”

Roland casually took the lettuce salad from Wengel’s hands, ate a piece with the fork, and then handed the plate back to him. With a leisurely wave, she said, “Everyone, please, don’t stand on ceremony!” With that, she walked past the kneeling Great Knight and headed straight for Victor.

The Commander used the fork I was using!

Wengel’s face flushed red with excitement. Noticing the young nobles around him eyeing the tray and fork like hungry tigers, he quickly gobbled down the salad and then headed for the exit, clutching the momentous set of utensils with a wary expression. The other young nobles followed close behind, planning to find a quiet spot and negotiate a good price with Wengel to buy the utensils Roland had used. Wengel was destined to disappoint them. He was going to show off this set to his comrades in the Glory Knights and make those bastards die of envy!

Such was Roland’s charm!

“Uncle, you’ve gotten even more handsome.” Roland curtsied to Williams with a grin, then turned and beckoned to Victor. “Little Victor, you’re dancing the first dance with me.”

“The honor is all mine, Your Highness.” Victor let out a silent sigh of relief and replied courteously.

Watching the pair walk toward the dance floor, Williams shook his head. Everyone in the Nobles’ District knew better than to speculate about Roland’s intentions. Her thoughts were always written plainly on her face for all to see. And yet, just when you thought you understood the Princess Royal, she would do something to startle you.

Victor took Roland’s delicate hand and stepped onto the red-carpeted dance floor. The graceful notes of the harp and the lighthearted melody of the bagpipes played the famous piece, The Shores of the Brinol.

Releasing her slender, jade-white hand, Victor bowed to Roland. Roland lifted the hem of her skirt and returned the curtsy with elegance. The two began to glide across the floor to the moving melody.

“Your Highness, what is the meaning of this?” Victor asked softly in her ear as he spun.

“Hmph!” Roland slid a step, letting out a soft snort. “I was very unhappy that I didn’t get to touch your pointed ears last time! So this time, I’m going to play a game with you!”

Victor knelt forward, extending his arm in a gesture of courtship. “What kind of game?”

“I’m going to step on your foot before the dance ends!” Roland took half a step back in a playfully reluctant manner, the tip of her shoe peeking out from under her skirt.

“What happens if you succeed? And what if you don’t?”

Victor retreated two steps, like a man dejected by his beloved’s rejection. Roland followed his every move, as if encouraging her suitor to try again.

“If I succeed, you’ll jump in pain. If I don’t, then I don’t. What else could happen?”

Victor didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Roland’s sudden arrival had indeed saved him from a predicament, but her behavior was utterly baffling.

This evening banquet was the highest-level social event Victor had ever attended. The presence of the Prime Minister, the Minister of Finance, the Intendant, and the Council President was one thing, but Grand Duke Williams himself had also come, and Marquess Golan had even sent a representative. Such a grand reception was, of course, for Sylvia’s sake. It couldn’t be denied that Victor’s own status did not warrant this level of treatment. Grand Duke Williams had Marquess Leopold organize the event to preserve the royal family’s dignity, which was why Marquess Golan and Queen Catherine could not attend—it would simply be too humiliating for them.

And now, the esteemed Princess Royal herself had appeared and, under the watchful eyes of all, pulled Victor in for the first dance. All just to step on his foot and vent her frustration?! If Victor wasn’t mistaken, Roland must have snuck out behind the Queen’s back!

Women really were the pettiest creatures!

“Your Highness, I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed.”

Victor had no way of refusing. Roland’s dance steps became aggressive, each one landing where his own feet had just been. If he didn’t want to be sent hopping in pain, he had no choice but to keep dancing. Of course, Victor was quite confident in himself. They were performing the Ovetz Dance, a dance where partners could not touch. Through leans, swings, turns, slides, and spins, as well as graceful poses, the dancers conveyed the flavor of courting a beloved within a two-meter circle. The dance itself had a unique style—solemn and elegant, magnificent and varied, at times slow and relaxed, at other times tight and compact. Bound by the rhythm of the music, Roland couldn’t use her Great Knight-level speed. It was tantamount to competing against Victor with her hands and feet tied. How could Victor possibly lose to her?

“Don’t celebrate too soon!” Roland saw through Victor’s thoughts. The hem of her skirt covered Victor’s boots as her crystal shoe stomped down. “You can’t use Wind Walk either, can you?”

Victor simply smiled and elegantly dodged Roland’s stomp.

On the dance floor, Roland’s long hair flew about. She was a picture of peerless elegance, her movements both expansive and graceful, ethereal and light. Her uniquely beautiful face wore a captivating smile, at times shy, at times fiery, at times charming and amorous. Victor was handsome and poised, like an elf descended to the mortal realm—elegant and composed, reserved and magnanimous. Together, they brought the beauty of the Ovetz Dance to its pinnacle, a delightful sight to behold.

“How beautiful!”

Countess Caroline, who prided herself on her own beauty, had originally hoped to rekindle her dalliance with Victor, only to have her plans spoiled by Roland. Though she was reluctant to admit it, she had to concede that Roland’s grace was second to none.

But under the appreciative gazes of the crowd, Roland’s expression shifted again. One moment she was sly, the next vexed, then furious, then grinding her teeth. Victor, for his part, maintained his usual gentlemanly conduct, doing his best to match Roland’s steps. However, everyone could now see what was going on. Roland was aiming for Victor’s feet!

Prime Minister Bastern exchanged a look with Williams, and both shook their heads with wry smiles.

Now that’s our Roland!

Victor wasn’t even flushed or out of breath. A gentle smile played on his lips, but inwardly he was smug. With his two-meter Blind Sense, he wouldn’t make a mistake even with his eyes closed! To Roland, Victor’s smiling face was absolutely infuriating. Forgetting the rhythm entirely, she hiked up her skirt and stomped right at him.

A misstep!

Victor scrambled to slide out of the way and find the rhythm again, whispering, “Your Highness, you can’t possibly want your dancing to look that bad, can you!”

“Hmph!”

A flicker of joy lit up in Roland’s heart. It seemed she’d found a way to deal with Victor. She rolled her eyes prettily, matched his steps for a few beats, and then stomped again.

Now, the dance became clumsy and awkward, completely devoid of grace. As for what the others might be whispering, the Princess Royal couldn’t care less.

You want to play dirty, do you? I don’t need Wind Walk. I still have Overlimit!

Victor discreetly activated the X-3’s Overlimit function. His movements became coordinated and precise. No matter how Roland launched her sneak attacks, he handled them with ease, maintaining a firm grip on the dance’s rhythm. Their dance once again became elegant.

“Interesting!”

Marchioness Jalie smiled languidly. As a Silver-rank Great Knight, she knew she could achieve that same level of perfect control. But Victor wasn’t a knight. It was truly unexpected that he possessed such meticulous control. Moreover, he was facing a Gold Knight, Princess Royal Roland. Setting aside the fact that Roland was holding back her power, her status alone was enough to put immense pressure on anyone. Yet Victor remained completely unperturbed, carefree and composed. That was even more remarkable.

After several failed attempts, Roland’s eyes darted about. She puffed out her chest and said in a cloying voice, “Little Victor, if you win, I’ll let you kiss me. It’ll be my first kiss, you know!”

Roland had a slender figure, exquisitely beautiful features, and skin as white as snow jade. As she swayed her hips, as enchanting as a talking flower, she emanated a soul-stirring allure. The young nobles who had returned to the great hall were all dumbstruck, utterly captivated. They wished for nothing more than to trade places with Victor and share a dance with the princess.

But Roland discovered that Victor was turning a blind eye and a deaf ear to her seduction. Though a smile remained on his face, his dark eyes were ice-cold, devoid of any emotion.

This is the state!

“Little Victor, I, as the Princess Royal, demand that you sing for me. If you dare refuse, don’t blame me for what happens next!” Roland threatened smugly.

With the X-3 activated, Victor’s focus was razor-sharp, stripped of all emotion. He heard everything Roland said, but at this moment, singing was out of the question. The slightest distraction would pull him out of his Overlimit state.

“Sing what?” Victor asked coldly. The moment the words left his mouth, a crystal shoe brushed against the top of his foot. Roland said with a faint smile, “The song I taught you.”

“The. Bear. Eats. The. Honey.”

Reciting the nursery rhyme, Victor struggled to maintain his Overlimit state. Roland’s small foot touched his boot several times but never managed to stomp down. As Roland pressed her relentless attack, Victor gradually entered a wondrous state. The X-3 began to run on its own, while his mind became active. His dodges grew more and more clever, and the nursery rhyme on his lips turned from recitation to song. He realized that if he could just break through this final barrier, his Overlimit would reach a new realm.

Victor’s singing was halting and out of tune. But the four Great Knights all wore grave expressions, and the guests around them also sensed that something was amiss. The atmosphere in the great hall grew strange.

Williams’s mind was in turmoil. He could clearly sense that the turbulent fire elements around Victor were growing increasingly stable. And fire element affinity was precisely what set the Sword Saint Draven apart from other nobles with elven bloodlines!

No wonder Victor had been able to manifest the void wind element in just two years! Why would Roland expose Victor’s secret in such a public setting? What was she trying to do?!

The harp played its final note. A sharp pain shot through Victor’s foot. Roland had ruthlessly stomped on it and was even grinding her heel in for good measure.

“You lose!”

With her foot still on Victor’s, Roland leaned close to his ear and whispered, “This repays my debt to Sylvia.”

“Your Highness, I’ve lost. You don’t have to keep grinding your heel, do you?” Victor had no idea what Roland was talking about. All he knew was that the princess was stepping on his foot with all her might.

“That’s for not letting me touch your ears!” Roland said with a triumphant smile. Tossing her head, she swept away.

Victor grimaced and shook his head. He rubbed his chin, a sense of regret in his heart.

So close, yet so far!

Chapter 229: Fermentation

In a private residence east of Brinol Cathedral, Archbishop Lazarus sat on a long sofa.

A beautiful young priestess was leaning against the Lord Bishop. On the coffee table before them lay a set of rare and magnificent jewelry.

“This pair of blue diamond earrings is gorgeous. They must have been very expensive, right?” the priestess cooed, collapsing into the Archbishop’s arms.

“My little sweetheart, if you like them, just take them. This set was a gift from Earl Kagra, it didn’t cost us a single Copper Sol,” Lazarus chuckled.

“Put them on for me… with one hand,” the priestess said, her eyes bewitching, her cheeks flushed like a peach blossom.

“Alright, alright.” Lazarus gave a sleazy smile and, using only one hand, deftly hung the earring on the priestess’s earlobe. His movements were far more nimble than one would expect from an obese man in his sixties.

Knock… knock, knock.

A long knock followed by two short ones interrupted the Lord Bishop’s leisure. Just as he furrowed his bald brow, a familiar voice came from outside the door.

“Lord Lazarus, Viscount Randell requests an audience.”

The Archbishop reluctantly pulled his hand from the priestess’s collar and sighed, “The one person I want to see the least is Viscount Randell, and now I have no choice but to see him.”

“My lord, I’ll help you change.” The priestess stood up with a faint smile, opened the wardrobe in the room, and took out the uniform of a Cardinal.

“Wait,” Lazarus thought for a moment, then said, “Reese, prepare my best set of ceremonial robes.”

The priestess, Reese, retrieved a different, more lavish set of gold-trimmed spider-silk robes and asked in surprise, “This set?”

Seeing the Archbishop nod in confirmation, the priestess gently and obediently helped him change. Before heading out, Lazarus paused and instructed her, “Reese, in a little while, you should also come out to meet Viscount Randell.”

“Me? Should I wear formal robes too? And can I wear this jewelry?” Reese’s eyes lit up as she gestured excitedly at the pieces on the coffee table. This was the first time Lazarus was publicly introducing her to a noble, and the significance was extraordinary. Of course, Reese was eager to be the wife who follows her husband’s lead, letting everyone know she was now the Archbishop’s lady.

“No! Just wear your standard priest’s robes.” Lazarus ignored the disappointment that washed over the priestess’s face and walked straight out of the room.

Victor stood with his hands behind his back in the main hall of Brinol Central Cathedral, facing a statue of a sword-wielding angel. This lifelike sculpture stood 4.7 meters tall, carved entirely from white-glazed rock and inlaid with twelve white crystals and twenty-four pure, translucent rubies. The value of the materials alone would be no less than thirty thousand Gold Sols. As for its artistic value, well, it was less appealing to Victor than a Purple Gold Coin. Of course, to the cathedral attendants, Lord Viscount Randell was appreciating this exquisite angel statue with the eyes of an artist.

Everyone believed nobles with an elven bloodline were natural-born artists.

The sound of soft footsteps reached Victor’s ears. He turned to see an old man, escorted by two Sacred Warriors, walking into the prayer hall. After a moment’s hesitation, Victor went down on one knee. “Your Eminence, the Archbishop, a good day to you.”

In the human kingdoms, kneeling on one knee was an honor. Only a noble Knight was qualified to kneel when meeting his liege lord. Victor was paying homage to the Archbishop as a representative of the Lord of Radiance, not to Lazarus himself, symbolizing the Lord of Radiance’s favor. Lazarus stepped forward, helped Victor up, and said warmly, “Victor, you’ve grown up.”

The Cardinal gave Victor a very strange feeling. Lazarus had once been the officiant at Victor and Sophia’s wedding. In the little Baron’s memory, the Lord Cardinal was a merciful, holy, wise, dignified, and self-disciplined priest who commanded respect. But the old man before Victor now was plain-looking, short, and stout, with a half-bald head. He was dressed in luxurious silk robes and didn’t have the Lord of Radiance on his lips. Instead, he was trying to get close to him like a shrewd, wealthy merchant.

Lazarus smiled at the bewildered Victor and said, as if to himself, “I carved this angel statue with my own hands. What do you think?”

“It is a work of exquisite craftsmanship. Your skill leaves me in awe.”

No matter what impression the old man made on Victor, he was still the most influential, highest-ranking, and most powerful figure in the Kingdom of Gambia. Victor would not forget the purpose of his visit; the necessary flattery had to be delivered. Besides, the craftsmanship of the angel statue truly deserved such praise.

“Victor, you’ve sought me out several times. What is this matter you’re so concerned about?” Lazarus asked amicably, patting the angel statue.

“It’s about the matter of the Centaur Hills diocese.”

Victor steadied himself and said respectfully, “Your Eminence, the population of the Centaur Hills has more than met the standard for establishing its own diocese. Lord Governor-General York has submitted applications many times, but there has been no response. This time, Duke York has entrusted me to formally apply to you in person for the establishment of the Centaur Hills diocese. The people of the Centaur Hills need a Bishop!” As he spoke, Victor handed over a parchment letter.

Lazarus took the letter but did not open it. He spoke slowly, “I was born in the Eastern Alliance. My grandfather was a stonemason, and my father was a stonemason. They passed the craft down to me. To express my devotion to the Lord, I spent three years personally carving this angel statue. Every time I look at this statue, I feel proud of my piety. But now, carving the angel statue has become something I regret.”

“This angel statue was made from a single block of white-glazed rock, inlaid with expensive crystals and rubies. At today’s prices, it would be worth no less than twenty thousand Gold Sols.” Lazarus tugged at his spider-silk robe and said, “Now look at this robe. It was woven from the silk of red-headed spiders from the Twilight Forest. The craftsmanship is superb, and it’s worth six hundred Gold Sols. Very extravagant, isn’t it?”

“I also find it extravagant. How much grain could this much money buy? How many sets of leather armor could it make? How many orphans could it feed? When I carved this statue with my own hands, it was actually to save the Church the twenty Gold Sols in wages for a craftsman.” Before Victor could answer, the Archbishop continued, “It was only after I became a Cardinal, in charge of the Church’s affairs in the Kingdom of Gambia, that I understood. White-glazed rock is just stone, gems are just gems, spider silk is just spider silk, and gold is just gold. No matter how beautiful or valuable they are, they cannot be turned into food, fur coats, cattle, sheep, armor, or weapons. I saved the Church twenty Gold Sols, but I took away a stonemason’s wages. That wage was equivalent to a stonemason’s family’s income for an entire year.”

“I used to fail to understand the extravagant lifestyles of the nobles. Now, I too have begun to wear the most expensive silks. Because this robe supports the silk gatherers, the weavers, the carriage drivers, the shop assistants, and the tailor.” Lazarus smiled and asked, “Child, do you know why that is?”

Victor was both surprised and puzzled. He hadn’t expected Archbishop Lazarus to possess such insight, nor for him to speak in the tone of a senior teaching a junior. Victor certainly didn’t recall having such a deep friendship with the Archbishop, but at this moment, he could only follow his lead.

“Luxury is not a sin, Your Eminence. Waste is!”

Now it was Lazarus’s turn to be astonished. Victor’s simple, concise sentence had accurately expressed a principle that had taken him decades to grasp.

Such wisdom had already surpassed the limits of his age. Could he truly become a second Draven?

At this thought, Lazarus became even more amiable. “Exactly! I want everyone to have enough to eat, warm clothes to wear, and sturdy houses to live in. But we don’t have enough fields to cultivate. Many people must find other ways to make a living. They get by through logging, mining, hunting, road building, and craftsmanship. To find work, they often wander from place to place, suffering great hardship. In the end, it is because the beastmen have seized our lands.”

Victor had a vague idea of what the Archbishop was getting at. He smiled elegantly. “Many new fields can be reclaimed in the Centaur Hills.”

“The Centaur Hills are nearly two hundred thousand square kilometers in size, and we also place great importance on developing that land.” Lazarus nodded, then changed the subject. “How many people can the lands of the Centaur Hills support? Three hundred thousand? Four hundred thousand? Do you know the population of Gambia? I’ll tell you, the number of refugees and registered subjects in Gambia combined is no less than one million seven hundred thousand! At its peak, it exceeded two million.”

“Even if the land in the Centaur Hills were doubled, could it feed so many people?” The Archbishop raised a hand to stop Victor from arguing and continued, “I know that Master Edwin is promoting deep plowing and careful cultivation, as well as raising pigs and cattle, in the Centaur Hills, with remarkable results. But the southern lands are inherently lacking; crops are harvested only once a year, and the growing cycle for wheat is as long as twelve months. During the lean season, the registered populace survives by foraging and hunting. But what about the refugees? Will the lords allow them to forage and hunt?”

Victor shook his head. Destructive foraging would only lead to everyone’s ruin. In fact, the lords wouldn’t even have to intervene; their own subjects would take drastic measures against refugees who were poaching or stealing resources.

“The Sasan Empire is different. Their green wheat can be harvested twice a year, with a yield of around six hundred pounds per mu. The grain produced by the Sassans doesn’t just feed Gambia’s refugees; other kingdoms also rely on Sasan’s green wheat.”

Lazarus said with self-deprecation, “To be honest, I’ve collected the tithe in Gambia for fifteen years and have never sent a single grain of rice to the holy cities. Instead, I have to ask the Holy See for aid year after year.”

“Of course, the royal family and lords of Gambia have also paid a great price to support the excess population.” Lazarus hadn’t forgotten which side his bread was buttered on, but he still needed to explain the Church’s difficulties to Victor. “The green wheat from the north is very important to us. But the eastern part of the Sasan Empire has no natural defenses and directly faces the threat of the wilderness beastmen. If the Sasan Empire were to be breached by the beastmen, we would lose our largest grain-producing region.”

“But the Sasan Empire never accepts refugees and continuously wages wars of annexation against the three kingdoms,” Victor said bluntly. “The beastmen threaten the security of the Sasan Empire, but the Centaur Hills also risk being overrun by the Ant-man army. And it has been proven that the Ant-men’s combat capabilities far exceed those of the beastmen.”

The lords of the three kingdoms often used the refugee problem to accuse the Church of favoritism towards the Sasan Empire. However, it wasn’t that the Sassans refused to take in refugees; the truth was that the frail refugees had no way of safely crossing the Great Plains between the Dodor Kingdom and the Sasan Empire. The elusive Gnolls there were known to relish the flesh of travelers. As for the wars between them, it was hardly worth refuting. If the Sassans didn’t wage wars of annexation, were they supposed to just wait for the three kingdoms to unite and grow strong, then march their armies north to conquer their lands?

Lazarus had no intention of refuting such fallacies. He seemed exceptionally patient with Victor. “But the Ant-men don’t actively kill people, do they?”

“The beastmen, monsters, and the rigid Ant-men are different. They are savage yet intelligent. They can form powerful centaur khanates or Ogre kingdoms, and there are tenacious Gnoll bandits who can never be fully exterminated. Most importantly, the beastmen were nearly driven to extinction by crazed Wizards, and they see us humans as mortal enemies. These ferocious beasts are far more dangerous than the Ant-men!”

“Victor, the Church’s manpower is limited. The construction of the Centaur Hills diocese can only be postponed, at least for now.” Lazarus sighed and said helplessly, “I’m old. I’ll soon be returning to the holy cities to report on my duties, and then I’ll teach newly-ordained priests in a monastery. The four Bishops in Gambia all have their eyes on my position. Do you think any of them would be willing to go to the Centaur Hills to oversee church affairs at this critical juncture?”

Victor remained silent. Other than himself, no one knew how terrifying the endless tide of Ant-men was. However, Victor hadn’t wanted the Church to establish a new diocese in the Centaur Hills in the first place. It was the York family that seemed extremely keen on making it happen.

The Church needed to harvest faith, so of course the resident priests hoped for larger populations in their jurisdictions. They spared no effort to assist lords, stabilize the populace, provide medical aid, and apply for relief supplies. When necessary, they could even lead Sacred Warriors to defend against monster attacks. Of course, priests also collected the tithe and prevented lords from expelling excess refugees. But the Centaur Hills couldn’t be considered prosperous yet. The villagers’ labor was heavy, and their income was pitifully low. The York family was more worried about people leaving. Although the Church had already exempted the York family from the tithe for three years, wouldn’t it be even better if the Church could increase its support, send more supplies, and feed more villagers?

Although the York family’s various vassal families all had resident priests, how could the influence of an ordinary priest compare to that of a Bishop? Since the Church was bound to open a new diocese in the Centaur Hills eventually, it was better to take the initiative, submit the application, and then use the new Bishop’s connections to reap more benefits.

The Church clearly had no intention of letting the York family gain too much of an advantage, which was something Sylvia had anticipated. Victor was merely playing hard to get.

“Your Eminence, I understand the Church’s difficulties. However, the Centaur Hills needs to construct three giant fortresses to defend against the Ant-man invasion. A shortage of able-bodied men is the main reason holding back the project’s progress. We plan to bring in refugees from other territories to fill the manpower gap.” Victor surreptitiously observed Lazarus’s expression and continued, “We can solve the food problem ourselves. However, Lady Sylvia hopes that you can persuade the resident priests in other territories to provide us with some convenience.”

By the same token, priests everywhere were reluctant to see the population of their jurisdictions decline. When Victor and Sylvia formulated their strategy to bring in refugees, the local lords would surely support it with both hands, but it also impinged upon the interests of the resident priests. And a lord’s influence over refugees was far less than a priest’s. A few ill-spoken words from the priests could seriously hinder the migration plan.

Sylvia’s solution was to have Archbishop Lazarus step in to facilitate the matter. This was the real reason Victor had sought an audience with the Archbishop.

Victor’s request came as a great surprise to Lazarus. He had been rambling on for a while, and it wasn’t just to complain. In fact, Lazarus had long anticipated that Victor was coming about establishing the Centaur Hills diocese, and he had no intention of agreeing to the York family’s request. But a piece of news from yesterday had made him change his mind. Establishing the diocese was impossible; the four bishops under him would never give up the chance to be promoted to Archbishop. Lazarus was prepared to give the Centaur Hills more aid, not for Sylvia, but to do Victor a favor and build a relationship with him.

No aid, they’ll settle the refugees themselves?! This wasn’t doing a favor, this was clearly incurring a debt!

Just as the Archbishop was wrestling with this problem, the priestess Reese walked out. When Lazarus saw the look of surprise on Victor’s face, he made a decision.

Since I’m going to be in your debt, I might as well owe you a bigger one!

The Archbishop beckoned to Reese and smiled. “Victor, let me introduce you. This is my wife, Priestess Reese.”

The priestess looked to be in her twenties. She was tall and slender with almond eyes and rosy cheeks. Dressed in standard clerical robes, she looked both holy and beautiful. When she leaned against the Archbishop like a dependent little bird, he patted her hand affectionately. The stark contrast between her youthful beauty and his short, stout, aged frame made Victor think of the simple Bishop Pello, and a trace of disapproval couldn’t help but flash in his eyes.

“My Lady, a good day to you,” Victor said, quickly concealing his emotions as he bowed to the priestess.

“Lord Viscount Randell, may the glory of the Lord of Radiance bless you,” Reese said, overjoyed.

Being addressed as “My Lady” filled Reese with delight. She clung tightly to the Archbishop’s arm, completely missing the disdain in Victor’s eyes. But Lazarus saw it clearly. He said with a grin, “When one gets old, one needs someone by their side to take care of them. I’m lucky that Reese is willing to be with an old man like me.”

“It’s a pity my time is short, and my stipend is only three hundred Gold Sols a year. I don’t know what I’ll be able to leave for Reese in the future,” Archbishop Lazarus said with a worried expression.

Openly soliciting a bribe?!

Victor’s eye twitched. He pulled a pouch from his waist, forced a smile, and offered it. “How could we let you worry about such a small matter? This is a small token of my esteem.”

Lazarus took the pouch, laughed heartily, and said warmly, “Child, I accept this token of your esteem. I also understand your situation, so don’t you worry. I will make the proper arrangements.”

“Thank you, Your Eminence. I shall take my leave then.”

Victor gave a wry smile and bowed, intending to depart, but Lazarus stopped him.

“Victor, Sophia has run into a little trouble. I can’t disclose the specifics, but the problem isn’t too serious.”

Victor nodded silently, bowed once more, and turned to leave, ultimately choosing not to press for more news about Sophia.

After Victor had left the Central Cathedral, Reese opened the pouch. Inside were ten Purple Gold Coins. She furrowed her delicate brows and said, “My lord, isn’t this… a bit improper?”

Lazarus’s status was eminent and his power great. He had always lived a life of comfort, with nobles actively sending him gifts. Reese had been with Lazarus for two years, and this was the first time she had seen the Archbishop solicit a bribe from anyone, and for a mere one thousand Gold Sols at that. The set of jewelry in their room was worth far more than this, and when Earl Kagra had delivered it, Lazarus hadn’t even batted an eyelid.

“You don’t understand. Viscount Randell is not like the other knightly nobles,” Lazarus said faintly.

“How is he different?”

Reese gently shook Lazarus’s arm, pouting coquettishly. Lazarus shot her a cold glance. It was as if a basin of cold water had been poured over her head. Reese was instantly reminded that the old man beside her was a Cardinal, a level-five priest, with four Bishops, eight Adjudicators, over two hundred priests, and three thousand Sacred Warriors under his command. Even the King had to be polite when meeting him. Reese immediately let go of Lazarus’s arm and scurried to the side, trembling.

Terrified, Reese’s face paled. She wrung her delicate hands, shrinking back and shivering like a quail. She looked especially pitiful. Lazarus thought of his deceased wife and his eldest son, a Sacred Warrior who had died in battle, and his heart softened.

Clergy were people of flesh and blood, too. The Church never advocated for asceticism; a clergy member who could not see through to the essence of the teachings could never cross the great chasm to level five. By the time Lazarus was promoted to a high-ranking priest, he had already understood: as long as their fundamental integrity remained intact, high-ranking clergy could enjoy fine clothes and beautiful women just like the nobles. This was an authority granted to high-ranking clergy by the first Pope.

Since his wife’s death, Lazarus had had several young and beautiful priestess lovers. They had all received his help in one way or another, but none had become the Archbishop’s wife. If it weren’t for his desire to make Victor understand the true nature of the Church, Lazarus would never have intended for Reese to become his wife.

Now, Lazarus didn’t mind instructing his young wife a little.

“Reese, you must understand. The knightly nobles have no pious faith. Those great lords have no desire to deal with solemn, straitlaced priests. The lords need us, we need the people, and the people need not only us, but also the knights. Therefore, we must not put on a saintly face in front of the great lords. That will only push them further away.”

Lazarus’s gentle tone allowed Reese to relax. She asked, “Is Viscount Randell a great lord?”

“Not yet.” Lazarus shook his head pensively and sighed, “But he will understand one day.”

“You think very highly of him?” Reese asked cautiously.

“Highly? I can only say I think highly of his potential.” Lazarus shook his head, then nodded. “If one day he grows to a legendary level and remembers me putting on an act in front of him, he might misunderstand the Church. Rather than let that happen, it’s better to let him understand sooner that we are not only one with the people, but also one with the nobility. Besides, it’s no big deal.”

Lazarus looked into Reese’s eyes and admonished, “Reese, becoming my wife may not be a good thing for you. You will have to work much harder than others to advance your divine arts. You cannot get closer to our Lord simply through scheming!”

“Oh, and write a letter to Pello. Tell him I want to see Miller’s report the moment it arrives!”

Chapter 230: The Situation Continues to Brew

“How many times do I have to say it? I really didn’t think that far ahead!”

Roland cupped her hands over her ears, her pointed chin resting on the juniper wood desk as she muttered nonstop, looking for all the world like a wronged maiden.

The only person who could make the grand princess adopt such an ostrich-like posture was Marquess Golan.

Marquess Golan was not one to be deceived by Roland’s appearance. Although her highness’s ability to joke and prevaricate was a headache, upon hearing what had happened at Marquess Leopold’s estate, Marquess Golan could not sit still. He, along with Queen Catherine, Grand Duke Williams, and the two heads of Night Owl, had come to question Roland and get to the bottom of the matter.

“Roland, I will ask one more time.” Marquess Golan’s expression was extremely grave. He tapped on the table and asked, “How did you know Victor possessed a fire element affinity? Why did you expose his secret in public? Also, what did you mean when you said you were repaying Sylvia a favor?”

“Alright, fine. I’ll explain in detail.” Marquess Golan’s nagging was just as much a headache for Roland; his tireless questioning always made the grand princess surrender.

“That day, I went to find Victor… oh! That’s right, it was to inform him of the Senate’s inquiry. Yes! That’s it.” Roland nodded with great certainty. If Golan knew she had gone to spy on Victor, she would likely be subjected to another long lecture.

Marquess Golan’s face was expressionless. On paper, the royal family could not directly interfere in the Senate’s affairs, and the Senate would never send the grand princess to inform Victor of an inquiry. However, Roland secretly meeting Victor was a trivial matter, and Golan had no intention of exposing her highness. Right now, he just wanted to understand the whole story.

“Little Victor has learned many things from me; you could call him my disciple. When a tutor and disciple meet, naturally I had to test his martial skills,” Roland said, looking smug. “While I was instructing him, I discovered he could stir the fire elements! Heh, and Victor himself had no idea.”

“If this was a secret, why would Victor reveal it to me? Because it wasn’t a secret to begin with! Therefore, I didn’t expose Victor’s secret at all!” Roland spread her hands, a picture of innocence.

This powerful logic left everyone speechless. Roland then straightened up and said seriously, “But I did discover a problem. Victor’s state when he stirs the fire elements is very strange. His spirit becomes extremely sharp, and his body’s coordination is in no way inferior to a Great Knight’s, but his emotions become wooden, which is different from us Knights. Furthermore, the fire elements Victor stirs are very unstable and not in harmony with him. This might be the reason for his emotional stiffness.”

“Although I don’t know if this is a phenomenon of bloodline mutation, this unstable, disharmonious disturbance is Victor’s fatal flaw. A Silver-rank Knight could easily seize upon this weakness, and little Victor would be in danger.”

“I looked through the biographies and research records on Draven, but unfortunately, I found no similar accounts. However, I did come up with a training method to help him integrate with the fire elements—to stir the fire elements while multitasking and evoking his emotions. Victor’s performance at the ball proved that this training method is very effective, exceptionally so!”

“Sylvia didn’t make things difficult for little Edward, so I helped her train little Victor. Consider it a favor repaid.” Roland sighed and said softly, “Alas, little Victor is lucky to have met a teacher as responsible, intelligent, and beautiful as me. Tutor Golan, don’t you agree?” As she spoke, Roland blinked her emerald-green eyes, looking from one person to another with an expression that screamed, come on, praise me.

Queen Catherine was well aware of the real history between Roland and Victor. Roland’s so-called tutelage merely consisted of teaching Victor how to play chess, fish, and act in plays; as for swordsmanship, she had taught him a tiny bit, and only because it was required for a play. Catherine frowned and said, “Sylvia is a Flame Knight. It’s impossible for her not to know Victor’s condition. Since she didn’t train him, there must be a reason. Roland, training Victor might have been a bad thing.”

“Don’t worry,” Roland said, full of confidence. “Sylvia didn’t say anything. Since she didn’t bring it up, of course, I can train little Victor however I want.”

“Well said.” Williams nodded and added, “Sylvia doesn’t care about Victor’s talent, so we needn’t overthink it. After all, Victor only has the possibility of a bloodline mutation, and whether his mutation is the same as Sword Saint Draven’s, no one knows.”

In truth, Victor had never displayed his Overlimit ability in front of Sylvia. He had once used his X-3 and Super Sense to probe Sylvia’s elemental attributes, and within two short seconds, Sylvia had sensed his affinity for fire elements. However, the disturbance at that time was extremely faint, far weaker than his Overlimit state, and it never happened again. Sylvia had been disappointed about it for a long time. If she had perceived Victor’s change as directly as Roland had, the situation would likely be very different. Now, even if Sylvia received news about Victor, she would only assume it was the result of letting nature take its course and would look forward to his future development with even greater anticipation.

As of yet, no one knew this was all a misunderstanding.

“Her Highness Sylvia doesn’t just not care about Viscount Randell’s talent; she doesn’t even care about the Viscount’s safety.” Margaretta’s voice was as cool as ever, a sharp sword piercing the heart of the matter.

“That makes sense!”

Night Owl’s other leader, Walus, said in confusion, “But that’s not logical, is it?!”

When Victor came to the Royal Capital for the inquiry, the York family sent no Knights to escort him, which could be seen as a gesture of sincerity from Sylvia to the Auguste family. But Victor’s bloodline had an affinity for fire. Regardless of whether he could mutate into the blond-haired, golden-eyed image of Sword Saint Draven, the potential was undeniably there. And Draven’s mutated bloodline was crucial for fire-element Gold Knights to produce offspring. Sylvia should, by all rights, ensure Victor’s safety.

“What on earth is Sylvia thinking?”

Williams was also baffled. If Victor were part of the royal family’s faction, Williams would sooner send his own heir to the Centaur Hills as a hostage than let Victor take such a risk, even if he only had potential. This was Sword Saint Draven, a man who had dominated an entire era! Setting aside his Saint-level strength, the mere fact that all his children had reached the pinnacle of power was enough to make all the great royal families’ hearts race.

“What’s the point of trying to guess Sylvia’s thoughts? You can’t guess right anyway! And even if you did, you wouldn’t know if you were right.”

Roland twirled a lock of her hair around her finger, looking thoroughly bored. Golan shot her a glare and said slowly, “Margaretta, has Victor done anything unusual recently?”

Margaretta replied, “Viscount Randell has not shown any particularly unusual behavior. He has attended seven banquets and has grown relatively close to Viscount Tenis of the Peixike family. However, Viscount Randell’s subordinates have been frequently visiting the outer city, asking about the prices and origins of various goods in the freemen’s trade district. Yesterday, Viscount Randell paid a visit to Archbishop Lazarus, but it is unclear what they discussed.”

“What is Victor’s itinerary from here on?” Marquess Golan continued to ask.

“Viscount Randell is leaving the Royal Capital today. He plans to first visit Duke Wellington, then go around Bryat’s fief, enter Marquess Sorim’s domain through Kasan Town, and finally pass through Earl Chapman’s domain to return to the Randell Fief. The entire journey will take three months. By the time he returns to the Centaur Hills, it should be the first month of the Season of Fire.”

“Where is Kasan Town?”

Marquess Golan had no recollection of such a small, rural town. Williams chimed in with a smile, “Kasan Town is near the southern edge of the Gloomy Forest. It’s the territory of a southern lord, Baron Schultz, and it’s also the only way to enter Marquess Sorim’s domain. Victor’s itinerary includes all of the neighbors of Bryat’s fief but deliberately bypasses it. This is a show of respect to the southern lords. The Briatte family was once a branch of House Sorim, and now they are trying to break away from the southern lords’ sphere of influence. If Victor were to visit the Wellington family first, then Wildwillow City, and only then House Sorim, Marquess Sorim would likely lose face.”

“The little fellow is quite astute.” Marquess Golan nodded, then shot another glare at Roland before saying, “For Victor to be able to keep up with Roland for an entire dance, his skills must be decent. But his body is too fragile; poison could kill him. Have the Ministry of Internal Affairs send men to escort him along the way and ensure his safety. We must return a living, breathing Victor to Sylvia.”

Catherine nodded. “I will make the arrangements.”

“Why don’t you let me go! I guarantee no one will be able to touch little Victor.” Roland’s eyes lit up, and she immediately sat up straight.

“Absolutely not!” Catherine shook her head firmly. “Roland, your status is special. Your every move will attract unnecessary speculation. You will stay obediently in the royal palace.”

“If that’s the case, I don’t think we need to be too nervous,” Roland said, leaning back lazily in her chair with a light laugh. “Sylvia doesn’t care, so we don’t need to bother with him. Right now, all the great lord families are trying to curry favor with Victor. Who would want to kill him? Who would dare to kill him?”

Who would want to kill him? Who would dare to kill him?

The room fell instantly silent. After a long moment, Marquess Golan stared at Roland and enunciated each syllable, “The! Sa! Sans!”

If there was a chance for a Saint-level expert to appear in the Three Kingdoms, the Sassans would be the most anxious. The Sasan Empire would stop at nothing to nip Victor in the bud, and the force they would deploy would undoubtedly be the same group that plotted against Ryan.

“Roland, your real goal is to find the mastermind behind the assassination of the late King. Isn’t it?” Williams stood up, a faint smile on his face, but his eyes were filled with murderous intent.

“Her Majesty Catherine!” Williams bowed to the Queen and said solemnly, “I will absolutely not interfere in this matter. Night Owl is entirely at your disposal. I will personally provide fifty thousand Gold Sol for operational expenses. If you manage to catch a trace of them, please be sure to inform me.”

When Ryan was schemed against, Williams was, for a time, the biggest suspect. Even Marquess Golan had suspected him. Williams had a grievance he couldn’t air. The Auguste family line was thin, and he and Ryan were full-blooded brothers, exceptionally close since childhood. How could he possibly conspire to murder his own brother for the throne? But Williams couldn’t be sure if there were any audacious individuals among his own people. After a thorough investigation by Night Owl, aided by priests using Detect Lie, everyone was cleared of suspicion. This unsolved case was like a thorn in Williams’s heart; he wished he could dig out the Sasan Empire’s moles and tear them limb from limb. Now that he had an opportunity, Williams couldn’t be bothered with Sylvia’s attitude. If he didn’t make his stance clear, he wouldn’t even be able to hold on to his position as Regent.

Catherine gave a cold nod, but her trembling, slender hands revealed that her heart was anything but calm. She turned to the two leaders of Night Owl and asked, “While ensuring Victor’s safety, you are to find the Sasan spies lurking in the kingdom. Are you confident?”

“Under normal circumstances, it would take at least five months for a spy to relay news of Viscount Randell to the Sasan Empire and for the Empire to send back orders. They would expose themselves as soon as they tried to send a message. However, I am concerned that Wizards may be involved,” Margaretta said coolly.

“That’s a strong possibility,” said Walus. “Although we have similar powers, we cannot guarantee their loyalty. To be safe, it would be more prudent to ask the Church to protect Viscount Randell.”

“I will request Archbishop Lazarus’s assistance. The Church would also like to see another Sword Saint Draven,” Catherine said confidently.

“I want to meet Victor personally.” Marquess Golan rose to his feet and bowed to Catherine. “Your Majesty, could the royal family’s treasured ‘Flowing Fire Arrow’ be gifted to Viscount Randell?”

“Of course! Keeping Draven’s combat technique scroll is useless to us!” Roland slammed the table and stood up, shouting, “I’ll say it again! That really wasn’t my intention! You’re all overthinking this!”

No one paid any attention to Roland’s declaration. Golan, Walus, and Margaretta left the meeting room one after another. Williams nodded to Catherine and Roland before walking out as well.

“Catherine, that really wasn’t what I meant! You have to believe me.”

Looking at Roland’s innocent face, Catherine said sorrowfully, “My dear, I believe you are truly leaving now.” With that, Catherine turned and departed, leaving Roland alone in the room.

“I really didn’t think that far ahead…” Roland shook her head helplessly and muttered to herself, then stamped her foot. “You should have let me touch your ear. Now you’re in a world of trouble.”

Chapter 231: Patriotic Education

The central region of the Kingdom of Gambia possessed an unimaginably abundant workforce. Countless landless refugees poured their strength and ingenuity into building infrastructure. The gravel roads they constructed were wide and flat, lined on both sides with straight cypress trees, forming long, shaded boulevards.

These far-reaching, tree-lined avenues spread across the central plains like a spiderweb, connecting Blinor City with the territories to the kingdom’s southeast, west, and north.

It was afternoon. A convoy, escorted by over a hundred elite soldiers, traveled south along one of these avenues. Their silver suits of chainmail gleamed in the brilliant sunlight. Pedestrians and caravans on the same road moved to the side from a distance, bowing toward the most conspicuous noble carriage in the convoy.

Inside the carriage, Victor’s head rested on Judy’s lap. He was balancing three Purple Gold Coins on his fingertip. Each coin stood vertically on the edge of another, seemingly stuck together, not even toppling despite the carriage’s occasional jolts.

Victor attempted to add a fourth Purple Gold Coin to the stack. Judy was clearly engrossed in this little game, her slender fingers gently stroking her lover’s neck and face, planting a sweet kiss on him from time to time. She failed to notice the cold indifference in Victor’s deep eyes, which were focused solely on the Purple Gold Coins at his fingertip.

These Purple Gold Coins were a gift from Sophia’s steward, Helen, just before Victor left. There were eight hundred of them in total, worth eighty thousand Gold Sol.

Eighty thousand Gold Sol was a colossal sum to Victor, but it was pocket change for Sophia.

While in the Royal Capital, Victor had written a letter to Sylvia informing her of Sophia’s predicament. Sylvia responded quickly, stating that for the Marquess’s estate to save Sophia, they would have to produce seven hundred thousand Gold Sol—three hundred thousand for the royal family and four hundred thousand for the York family. Otherwise, the royal family would have no qualms about announcing Sophia’s “death” and seizing the Marquess’s estate and its wealth.

After reading Sylvia’s letter, Helen began to scramble to raise the funds, yet in the end, she only gave Victor eighty Purple Gold Coins, calling it a contribution to the Randell Fief. At that moment, Victor was certain that not only had Sophia escaped danger, but her position would also remain unchallenged. Combining this with the information from the Archbishop, Victor concluded that Sophia must have received the Church’s endorsement.

Victor accepted the money without hesitation. Out of caution and curiosity, he still probed Helen about Sophia’s situation. At first, Helen was evasive and unwilling to discuss the topic. Only when Victor explicitly pointed out that Sophia’s troubles were related to the Church did she produce a secret letter Sophia had sent back. In it, Sophia claimed she had run into a bit of trouble and was, with the Church’s assistance, hurrying to the Kingdom of Borea to meet with Andre. Sophia didn’t explain what the trouble was, only telling Helen that when she returned, everything would be better.

Sophia’s words were vague, and Archbishop Lazarus had not revealed any details either. This indicated the trouble was no small matter, but it was still under the effective control of the Church and Sophia.

Although Victor felt no affection for the ambitious Sophia, the thought of his nominal wife crying out in pleasure under another man made him feel suffocated. After all, his values were starkly different from those of a typical noble.

Ting!

The Purple Gold Coins fell from his fingertip, clinking together with a crisp, pleasant sound. Judy giggled, her voice like a melodious chirp. “Darling, you’ve failed again.”

“Yes. Failed again.”

Victor exited his Overlimit state with a long sigh. Roland’s mischief had made him realize that the X-3’s Overlimit function not only had significant flaws but could also be surpassed through training.

Before this, Victor had never considered the issue.

Strictly speaking, X-3 was a new functional area formed in his brain through technological means; it was not naturally generated. And the brain was the most mysterious and promising central organ. After being loaded with X-3, Victor’s memory, Perception, and control over his body far surpassed those of an ordinary person. When Overlimit was activated, these abilities reached an unbelievable level. He had once relied on Overlimit, combined with Wind Walk and Super Sense—the Apocalypse state—to blindly kill a Silver-rank Ant-man chief in the rain. One could say that Overlimit was the very core of Apocalypse. Furthermore, Overlimit allowed Victor to detach from his emotions, becoming focused and calm. To a certain extent, this replaced a warrior’s willpower, enabling him to fully unleash his combat power, preventing him from growing weak-kneed with fear even when facing an Ogre.

However, in the Overlimit state, Victor’s combat instincts replaced his autonomous intelligence, causing his ability to judge a situation to plummet drastically. When facing an evenly matched opponent, if he couldn’t secure a quick victory, he would fall into his opponent’s traps, meeting a fate from which there was no escape.

Roland’s two pranks were the best examples.

In the small garden of the Marquess’s estate, Roland’s continuous feints had forced Victor into a series of evasive maneuvers, making him look as ridiculous as a manipulated puppet. This was a consequence of X-3 controlling his body. If the guards hadn’t interrupted Roland’s amusement, Victor would have certainly collapsed on the ground, at the mercy of Her Highness. Fortunately, it was just a game. If Victor were that rigid in a real battle, the consequences would be unimaginable. Being captured alive would probably be the best outcome.

The second time, Victor had made a fool of himself at the ball. In that state, his instincts had taken over, and his intelligence had dropped to a freezing point. He had foolishly obeyed Roland’s command and sang a children’s song in front of everyone! Although Roland’s wicked sense of humor had caused him public embarrassment, losing face was better than losing his life! Victor realized that the fact that Overlimit could be stopped by a distraction was in itself a fatal flaw! However, as the dance continued, Victor found his primary consciousness becoming clearer and clearer, yet his Overlimit state was not interrupted. Instead, he felt as if he was on the verge of an awakening. Victor understood that if he could break through this barrier, not only would the flaws of Overlimit be corrected, but the X-3 would also unlock even more of its potential. Unfortunately, by the time the music ended, Victor had still been unable to make that final breakthrough.

To find that feeling again, Victor had Judy assist him, but the effect was minimal.

Perhaps it’s because flirting with Judy isn’t as stimulating as sparring with Roland. Maybe I should try it with Sylvia… Victor thought to himself.

Judy, of course, was oblivious to Victor’s thoughts; she didn’t even know he was using her for an experiment. At that moment, her heart was filled with both sweetness and sorrow. According to their itinerary, after they visited Duke Wellington, Judy would return directly to Wildwillow City to manage her fief’s affairs, while Victor would continue his tour of the southern lords. Although it wasn’t a permanent farewell, with each of them governing a viscounty, the opportunities to meet would be few and far between. Therefore, Judy especially cherished this journey. She had spent a great deal of money to purchase two spider-silk ceremonial robes for Elina and her sister in exchange for some time alone with her lover.

The carriage gradually came to a stop. Victor planted a kiss on Judy’s pouting lips and smiled. “Darling, the carriage has stopped. Something must be happening up ahead.”

Before long, a knight from the Ministry of Internal Affairs knocked on the carriage wall and said softly, “My lord, there is a lord up ahead who wishes to see you.”

By now, Victor, having been helped into a fresh set of clothes by Judy, stepped out of the carriage. “Which lord is it?”

The knight from the Ministry of Internal Affairs shook his head. “I cannot say… That lord wishes to see you alone.”

Victor didn’t press further. He followed the knight off the tree-lined avenue and walked east for about one kilometer, arriving at the edge of a forest.

A knight in full armor stood at the edge of the woods. He was not particularly tall, yet he exuded the oppressive feeling of a towering mountain. His face, which appeared to be around thirty years old, bore the weathered vicissitudes and bold spirit of one forged by wind and frost. His majestic, iron-willed aura was like that of a battle-hardened lion.

Victor had not expected that this was the highness who wished to see him. Waving for Reno and Shak to halt, he walked forward alone and bowed. “Marquess Golan, good day.”

Victor had never met Marquess Golan, but the scar on the knight’s right cheek was enough to reveal his identity. Great Knights of Silver-rank could communicate with the void element and possessed powerful healing abilities; even if injured, they would not be left with scars. Among Gambia’s Gold Knights, only Marquess Golan had deliberately kept the scar on his face, which had become his most distinguishing feature.

This was also the first time Golan had seen Victor. In his mind, nobles with elven bloodline were exquisite and elegant, with slender figures and frail personalities—perfectly matching the aesthetic of the great nobles, as powerful lords and nobles rarely preferred equally strong-willed partners. But Victor was tall and straight, with well-proportioned muscles. His movements were swift and powerful, and his gaze was focused and steady, displaying an extremely high level of martial skill that could only be the result of long-term, arduous training.

“Victor, no need for formalities.” Golan nodded, a hint of admiration mixed with a touch of regret in his eyes as he looked at Victor.

In terms of birth, bloodline, talent, potential, or personality, Victor was the best choice of partner for Roland, yet Catherine had insisted on sending him to Sylvia’s side. Then again, perhaps only Sylvia could truly unlock Victor’s potential.

Golan vaguely grasped Sylvia’s intentions. He shook his head and asked, “Victor, what do you think of Gambia?”

Victor pondered for a moment before answering seriously, “Confined to a corner, but full of potential!”

“Confined to a corner, but full of potential.” Golan savored the words for a moment before praising, “Well said!”

“The Sasan Empire is vast and populous, with eleven Gold Knights, nearly a hundred Great Knights, several hundred Knights, two thousand apprentice knights, and over a hundred thousand elite soldiers. It seems powerful and invincible. But Sasan faces the external threat of beastmen and is rife with internal conflicts. If the Radiant Knights weren’t forcibly propping up the Feliett family, the Sasan Empire would have long since fallen apart. Their dream of unifying Dodor, Naville, and our Gambia is just that—a foolish fantasy. In reality, the Sasan Empire’s continued aggression against Dodor is more rooted in self-preservation. The Feliett family is trying to use continuous warfare to weaken both the power of the regional lords and our own strength. Under these circumstances, how can the Sassans possibly unite to fight a common enemy?”

“The Dodor Kingdom inherited the legacy of the Randt Empire. Its lands are fertile and its resources abundant. Yet they lost the Great Plains, leaving their heartland directly exposed to the iron hooves of the Sassans. Over two hundred years of war have already drained the Dodor Kingdom’s potential. The most ridiculous part is that the Dodor royal family and the Sasan imperial family are mortal enemies. The people of Dodor can’t surrender even if they wanted to!”

Marquess Golan explained to Victor, “The ancestor of the Feliett family was once a member of the Friedrich family. He was defeated in a family struggle and exiled to the north by the Friedrichs. He established an oath for the Feliett family: his descendants must make the arrogant Friedrich family pay the price, break them apart, and demote them to a branch family.”

“No wonder ‘Friedrich’ and ‘Feliett’ sound and are written so similarly,” Victor said with a shake of his head and a wry smile.

“If King Friedrich doesn’t want to be shining the Feliett Emperor’s boots, he has no choice but to resist.” Marquess Golan smiled and continued, “As for the Kingdom of Naville, its lands are barren, its population is sparse, and it’s controlled by the Church. If their grain trade were cut off, they’d just be a bunch of paupers who can’t even fill their stomachs.”

“Will Naville side with the Sassans?” Victor asked.

“The people of Naville aren’t fools. All they have to do is hold the Giantstone Mountains… No one wants to become a sacrifice for the Radiant Knights and run out to fight field battles with beastmen,” Marquess Golan said faintly.

“The Kingdom of Sus and the Borrey United Kingdom are busy with internal strife all day. They have no strategic space to expand westward; Eyer and Naville are barriers they cannot overcome.”

“Although our Gambia is located in a remote corner, we are far from the center of the wars. Once the three fortresses in the Centaur Hills are completed, sealing the Ant-man threat within the Great Marsh, and we focus on development for a few years, we may well have the opportunity to found an empire,” Marquess Golan said with pride.

“My lord, I’d say the chances are great.”

Victor couldn’t figure out the purpose of Golan’s conversation with him, but his assessment of the situation was quite astute. Victor especially liked his stance on containing the Ant-man threat.

Marquess Golan looked at Victor and asked in a deep voice, “Regardless of how the future unfolds, this is our homeland, after all… Victor, you are also a lord of Gambia. If someone were to try and take away the home you’ve painstakingly built, would you hand your fief over to them? Or would you resist resolutely?”

Is he giving me a lesson in patriotism? Is he afraid I’ll defect? Victor was somewhat baffled, but he still replied coolly, “Then we’ll let swords and spears do the talking!”

Marquess Golan nodded in satisfaction. His next words immediately captured Victor’s full attention.

“Victor, do you know what a Spirit Knight is?”

Chapter 232: Misunderstanding

“My lord, it is my honor that you are willing to reveal the mysteries of the Spirit Knights to me. If you could also take the opportunity to teach me the ways of the Knights, I would be most grateful!” Victor bowed deeply to Goron.

Goron gave Victor a surprised look and asked curiously, “Hasn’t Sylvia taught you these things?”

“Lady Sylvia answers any question I ask. However, I lack a systematic understanding of the Knights’ power structure, so the questions I pose are often quite limited. To be precise, I don’t even know what questions I should be asking.”

Victor shook his head with a wry smile. The truth was that Sylvia had told him every family, and even every Pinnacle Knight, had a different understanding of the path of a knight. Since he had this opportunity, why not listen to the perspective of a royal Pinnacle Knight?

“That’s not surprising. A Knight’s education spans every stage of their development, and the content is vast and convoluted. There’s no way I can explain it all at once.” Goron said with some hesitation, “I can give you an introduction to my understanding of Knights.”

“Are you familiar with the concepts of Bloodline, Aura, and Elemental Nodes?” Seeing Victor nod, Goron continued, “In my view, balance and control are a Knight’s most fundamental pursuits, and they are also the standard by which a Knight’s rank is determined.”

“An apprentice knight can use their Aura to stimulate their Elemental Nodes. Their strength and agility far exceed that of ordinary people, but because the four types of Elemental Nodes are imbalanced in an apprentice, their control over their body is inferior to that of a Knight.”

“A Knight achieves resonance with the twelve bottom Elemental Nodes through their Aura—three each for earth, fire, wind, and water. The balance of the four elements brings their strength, spirit, agility, and stamina into harmony, giving them flawless control over their power.”

“A Silver-rank Great Knight resonates with twenty-four Elemental Nodes. Their various abilities are more than double those of an ordinary Knight, and they can also interact with the void element, causing their physical body to approach perfection. However, a Silver Knight can only manifest the void element after resonating with the first of the upper Elemental Nodes. Manifesting and controlling the void element consumes a Great Knight’s spirit, and their Aura will be rapidly depleted. Only those peak Silver Knights who have resonated with all thirty-six Elemental Nodes can control the void element with balance and ease.”

“No wonder.”

Victor recalled the first time he met the Chapman family’s Young Lady. Gillian’s shaky appearance must have been a sign of Aura depletion and spiritual weakness. And yet, all four of Gillian’s elemental attributes were at fifteen points, which perfectly fit the theory of a Great Knight’s interaction with the void element.

But if the void element could allow a knight’s body to break its limits and approach perfection, why were all of Sylvia’s elemental attributes at ten points?

At this thought, Victor secretly observed Marquess Golan’s elemental attributes and discovered that all four of the Marquess’s attributes were at twenty points.

Just as Victor activated Overlimit, Marquess Golan also sensed a disturbance in the fire element. The disturbance was slight but unbalanced, making it very abrupt—in the perception of a Pinnacle Knight, it was as conspicuous as a firefly in the dark. Marquess Golan personally witnessed this unique fire element affinity and nodded to himself. Without changing his expression, he continued, “A Gold Knight not only resonates with all thirty-six Elemental Nodes, but must also communicate with the Elemental Sea. If they survive, a Gold Knight can control the void element at will, as easily and naturally as breathing.” As he spoke, Marquess Golan extended his hand, and a sphere woven from streams of earth-yellow energy condensed above his palm. The surging power within it was visible to the naked eye, and the air around the sphere was visibly distorting.

Victor couldn’t help but ask, “My lord, what would happen if you threw it?”

“Nothing would happen. It would just dissipate quickly.” Goron crushed the ball of energy in his hand and said, “The earth element is heavy and sluggish. It can be attached to a Knight’s body and mithril equipment to grant immense strength and solid defense. However, unlike the nimble wind element and the flowing water element, it cannot be controlled once it leaves the Knight. As for manifesting the fire element, that is the domain of Spirit Knights. Now is not the time to discuss that.”

Victor nodded and asked, “My lord, I’ve heard that Gold Knights can draw upon the power of the Elemental Sea. Is this what’s called a Transcendent combat skill?”

“The Elemental Sea is vast and boundless. Every time a Pinnacle Knight attempts to draw upon its power, it is a trial of life and death, because our knightly bodies have their own limits. The slightest mistake can cause us to be burst apart by the endless elemental power. But the Elemental Sea is far more powerful than the void element, so we Pinnacle Knights would rather risk it all to master this power.” Marquess Golan revealed a look of reverence and longing as he said slowly, “Pinnacle Knights communicate with the Elemental Sea and figure out methods to control it, like thieves, drawing on a little bit at a time and expressing it in the form of a combat skill. This is what’s known as a Transcendent combat skill.”

“You should understand now. The initial purpose of a Transcendent combat skill is not for combat, but to help a Pinnacle Knight experience the limits of their own compatibility with the Elemental Sea. Only when they are extremely proficient can a Pinnacle Knight apply a Transcendent combat skill in battle.”

“A Transcendent combat skill is, in fact, the prototype for a legendary realm. When a Pinnacle Knight has mastered several Transcendent combat skills, their understanding and control over themselves and the Elemental Sea will have reached a point where they can do as they please, freely drawing upon the power of the Elemental Sea. At that point, they step into the legendary realm.”

Even with Marquess Golan’s disposition, he couldn’t help but sigh with emotion. He had been in the pinnacle realm for a full forty years but had only mastered one Transcendent combat skill. What gratified him was that Roland, not yet thirty, was already beginning to explore his second Transcendent combat skill. Such talent and genius were truly unparalleled in the world. As for monsters like Sylvia and Neowist, they couldn’t be considered Pinnacle Knights in the true sense of the word.

“So, those who can effectively control their strength and agility are Knights. Those who can control themselves and possess a perfect body are Great Knights. Those who can control the void element at will are Pinnacle Knights. And those who have mastered the power of the Elemental Sea are Legendary Knights. Is that right, My lord?” Victor asked.

“Yes.” Goron nodded and said sternly, “Victor, only power that is under your control can be considered your strength. Pinnacle Knights are said to have limitless power, but if they were to casually use an unperfected Transcendent combat skill, I can see no purpose for it other than suicide.”

Is he talking about me?

Victor’s heart skipped a beat. He deliberately changed the subject, “My lord, are Silver-rank monsters classified in the same way?”

“There’s no such thing as a Silver-rank monster!” Marquess Golan said unequivocally. “An Ogre chief with a berserk talent can kill a Silver-rank Great Knight head-on. Does that make it a Silver-rank monster? Even we Pinnacle Knights would end up with our brains splattered if a common Ogre struck us in the head. Does that mean a common Ogre is a Gold-rank monster? A Knight without armor can even be killed by a common soldier’s spear.”

“Using our Knight power structure to classify the strength of monsters and beastmen is utterly ridiculous!”

Marquess Golan warned him solemnly, “Victor, judgment is crucial! Don’t believe in ranks, and certainly don’t put blind faith in your own innate power. Battle is life or death; there is no room for the slightest carelessness. Once you make a mistake, there are no second chances.”

A chill ran down Victor’s spine. He said sincerely, “I will remember that.”

“Large monsters like Ogres, Centaurs, and Bear-monsters all weigh over twelve hundred pounds. Their physiques and strength far surpass ours.” Goron sighed and said, “Even Legendary Knights are limited by their own physique when drawing upon the Elemental Sea. They might not be able to defeat deeply Savage monsters, like two-headed ogres, Centaur Khans, and Bear-monster Chieftains. And these monsters would flee in terror if they encountered giant creatures like white apes or nine-headed hydras. Yet our human armies once successfully besieged and killed a white ape. Therefore, no creature is absolutely invincible.”

“I will never forget your teachings and your kindness,” Victor said in a solemn voice.

Goron was very satisfied with the young lord’s sincerely convinced appearance. He paused, then said, “But if we are talking strictly about killing an opponent, there is one type of person who is invincible: the Spirit Knight.”

Victor’s expression changed abruptly. He clearly remembered Sylvia saying that she was just a woman.

Goron explained, “The fire element represents a mysterious and unfathomable spiritual power. A fire-element Gold Knight who masters this power is called a Spirit Knight. Sylvia is a Spirit Knight.”

“The title of Spirit Knight originates from the Era of the Chosen. Even Legendary Wizards of immense power had to show respect to Spirit Knights. That’s because Spirit Knights possessed the ability to kill them.”

“Since the Radiant Year, there have only been eight recorded Flame Knights, and every one of them was a figure of great renown. The abilities, characteristics, and bloodline of a Flame Knight have always been a focus of research for the Nobles and the Church. As far as I know, as long as their Aura meets the requirements, a Flame Knight can easily resonate with all their Elemental Nodes. This means they face no obstacles in advancing to the peak of Silver. At the peak of Silver, a Flame Knight can simultaneously manifest the three void elements—earth, wind, and water—a feature that distinguishes them from ordinary knights. After stepping into the pinnacle realm, a Flame Knight gains two abilities that allow them to look down on all others.”

“A fire-element Gold Knight can extend their spiritual power outward to probe an enemy’s strengths and weaknesses, or to pierce their spirit. While not fatal, it causes immense pain. In addition, Flame Knights seem to have the ability to seize the initiative against their enemies.” Goron smiled at this point. “Back then, the three princes of the Sasan Empire could only defend endlessly against Sylvia’s attacks. Whenever they tried to counterattack, Sylvia’s rose spear would be pressed against their foreheads. That scene was truly unforgettable.”

“Truly invincible!”

Victor exclaimed in admiration. He couldn’t imagine anyone being able to withstand the manifestation of three void elements combined with spiritual piercing and the ability to seize the initiative.

“It’s not what you think.” Goron seemed to see through Victor’s thoughts and said, “A fire-element Gold Knight’s spiritual piercing is almost ineffective against a prepared Pinnacle Knight; they can just endure it by manifesting the three elements. Seizing the initiative is indeed terrifying, but not to the point where a Pinnacle Knight can’t even protect themselves.”

Victor remained silent. Gold Knights could only cower before Sylvia, what was there to be proud of? Marquess Golan also felt a bit awkward, cleared his throat, and said, “Ahem. Spirit Knights have no Transcendent combat skills.”

“What?” Victor asked, utterly astonished. “Are you saying Sylvia can’t draw upon the power of the Elemental Sea? And she has no way to step into the legendary realm? How is that possible?!”

Marquess Golan was silent for a long while before saying, “Personally, I feel Sylvia is already a legend. If Neowist were to duel Sylvia, he would most likely still lose. He might be able to counterattack, but he definitely wouldn’t be able to do anything to Sylvia, and a single careless move could get him stabbed to death on the spot. Moreover, the best outcome for Neowist would be to perish together with Sylvia; in short, his death is certain. However, if Sylvia wanted to leave, Neowist wouldn’t be able to stop her.”

“Perish together? What do you mean by that?” Victor asked with a frown.

“The fire element is too tyrannical. No Knight can manifest the void fire element, let alone the fire element from the Elemental Sea!” Marquess Golan shook his head and sighed. “It’s not that Sylvia doesn’t have a Transcendent combat skill. As long as she draws on the power of the Elemental Sea, she can kill any enemy, but…”

“She would die too,” Victor said in a cold voice.

Goron nodded silently. “The scholars of the Silver Spire unearthed a Wizard’s manuscript. It recorded that a Wizard skilled in curses once tried to kill a Spirit Knight from two thousand kilometers away. In the end, he died from the Knight’s counterattack, burned to ashes by heavenly fire. Wizards believe that a Spirit Knight’s spiritual will is connected to the Elemental Sea of fire, allowing them to directly draw upon its power to annihilate enemies. This counterattack ignores distance and cannot be blocked. The best way to deal with a Spirit Knight is to swamp them with cannon fodder, forcing them to use their final resort.”

Victor felt a tightness in his chest. He finally understood why Sylvia maintained her elemental attributes at ten points. She had to constantly keep her distance from the encroachment of the Elemental Sea of fire.

“No Knight would wish to be a Flame Knight.” Goron asked Victor, “You’ve seen Sylvia’s red-haired, red-eyed form, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“That is the limit of what Sylvia can achieve.” Goron said with regret, “We can still climb higher, but for her, there is no path forward.”

“The power of a Flame Knight is beyond doubt. But they have short lifespans, no heirs, and no knightly companions. They often walk to the end of their lives in solitude.” Goron changed the subject. “However, perhaps you can make up for Sylvia’s regrets.”

Sylvia might not truly care about me. Victor didn’t voice his thoughts, merely shaking his head with a self-deprecating smile.

Goron said nonchalantly, “In the Era of the Chosen, Knights faced no pressure to survive. To preserve the purity of their bloodlines, they never intermarried with common people. High-ranking Knights were everywhere back then. Today’s noble Knights have far too much common blood mixed in. Never mind high-ranking Knights, even regular Knights are pitifully few, and many of them are created with potions.”

“The knight’s bloodline from the Era of the Chosen is called the ancient bloodline, and the ancient bloodline is the source of all knightly bloodlines. Many ancient families have been lost to history, but two special families have preserved their ancient surnames. One is the Wimbledon family, which intermarried with elven nobility, and the other is the Neowist family, which intermarried with Barbarian royalty. Victor, your manifestation of elven bloodline is a characteristic of this ancient bloodline.”

“A high-ranking Knight’s interaction with the void element is, in itself, a process of purging commoner blood and purifying the ancient bloodline. By the time one reaches the level of a Pinnacle Knight, our bloodline is no different from the ancient bloodline.” Goron smiled at Victor. “You are able to manifest the wind element, which shows that your bloodline is as noble as a Gold Knight’s, and that it will be just as difficult for you to have children.”

“What is the reason for that?” Victor asked curiously.

“How could we possibly reproduce as easily as mortals?” Goron shook his head as if it were a matter of course. He stared into Victor’s eyes and said, “I won’t discuss with you how Gold Knights procreate; you should ask Sylvia about that. What I want to tell you is that it might be possible for you to father a child with Sylvia.”

Victor smiled. This wasn’t the first time he’d heard this kind of argument. “Sophia told me about the deeds of the Sword Saint Draven, including how he had a child with his Spirit Knight companion. I don’t think I am the same as Draven. Draven had golden hair and golden eyes; I have black hair and black eyes. And in over eight thousand years, there has only been one Draven.”

“If there can be a first, there can be a second.”

Goron shook his head. “Draven also had black hair and black eyes at the beginning. The difference between him and ordinary nobles with elven bloodline was his affinity for both the wind and fire elements. And you have the same talent!”

“When you were in the Royal Capital, Roland discovered your affinity for the fire element. I was skeptical about it. But just now, I sensed the fire element you disturbed. I can confirm that you have an affinity for both wind and fire elements!” Goron’s gaze was burning, his tone tinged with eagerness.

Victor was suddenly thrown into chaos. He had just used X-3 to probe the Marquess’s elemental attributes, and he had used Overlimit twice in front of Roland. Were all these things considered signs of fire element affinity?

No wonder Sylvia looks upon me with such favor. No wonder the Archbishop’s attitude towards me was so strange. No wonder Marquess Golan came over to talk to me—it’s all a misunderstanding! What the hell does X-3 have to do with a bloodline?

Marquess Golan, of course, couldn’t read minds. He patted Victor’s shoulder and said, “Roland asked me to tell you this—Austin hunted down a widow and her orphan child; he’s an unpardonably wicked scoundrel! You did a beautiful job! I don’t want to see the elven Ranger I trained being looked down on like some male pet, which is why I made sure everyone at the ball knew of your noble status!”

“Ahem.” Goron coughed drily again and explained helplessly, “Those were Roland’s exact words.”

“Everyone knows?” Victor asked hastily. “What kind of effect will this have on me?”

“Not everyone. The minor nobles couldn’t possibly understand these matters. They and we are people from two completely different worlds. As for the powerful noble families, they will only treat you as a guest of honor.”

Goron said with a wry smile, “However, you must be careful about what you eat and drink.”

“Someone wants to kill me? The people from Dodor?” Victor became alert and pressed.

“The people of Dodor wouldn’t dare risk war with us to assassinate you; there’s no benefit in it for them. The Sassans, on the other hand, are a different story, but that would be a matter for a few months from now. In any case, you need to be very careful.” After speaking, Goron took out a simple, ancient-looking beast-hide scroll and handed it to Victor.

“This is the Sword Saint Draven’s combat skill—Flowing Fire Arrow. Since the Radiant Year, Draven has been the only person to manifest the fire element. I hope you can restore the glory of the Sword Saint!”

Chapter 233: Ulterior Motives

The outer district of Vistock had always been the domain of the freemen. To simply call it a slum or a shantytown would be a gross misrepresentation.

The outer district lacked grand, towering structures. The houses here were built somewhat crowdedly, making the streets seem exceptionally narrow.

But this crowded narrowness, conversely, exuded an air of prosperity.

The winding, slender cobblestone roads had long been worn smooth by the ceaseless flow of people. The small taverns, inns, and general stores lining the streets all seemed terribly cramped. These two-story buildings were all constructed from earth and wood, their outer walls clad in red pine bark that rippled under the sun like fish scales. A faint, woody fragrance kept the street air fresh and pleasant. Hanging from the eaves of many shops were wild garlic, salted fish, cured meats, and strings of sausages, a clear sign that the residents here were reasonably well-off.

Normally, the freemen’s quarter of a large city would be densely populated, and its market ought to be bustling, noisy, and extraordinarily lively. But this street was deserted and quiet, the road surface spotlessly clean, and the shop doors saw not a single customer. Every few dozen meters stood two armored swordsmen. Hands resting on their hilts, they faced each other from opposite sides of the street, their sharp gazes constantly sweeping over their surroundings. Under such circumstances, never mind the freemen, not even a stray cat dared to show its face.

At the other end of the long street, a hundred elite soldiers escorted several nobles as they walked slowly along the tidy road. Dressed in exquisite leather armor, these nobles chatted as they walked, occasionally pausing to point at the shops lining the street.

“Victor, this street was just recently renovated and has been cleaned up quite nicely. Normally, this place would be covered in foul sewage, and the stench would be unbearable even from two streets away.”

The speaker was an old man with a refined, handsome face. The Marsh Dragon-Lizard leather armor he wore was of superior quality, exquisitely crafted, and simply yet tastefully decorated. His face was etched with the passage of time and his hair was threaded with gray, but the black hairs far outnumbered the white. His eyes were bright, his complexion ruddy, and his back was ramrod straight; though advanced in age, he appeared extremely robust. The old man’s voice was gentle, his disposition cultured, and his every gesture revealed the dignified bearing of a leader.

This old man was none other than the master of Vistock, the current Duke Wellington.

As Duke Wellington spoke, Victor was observing the cured meat hanging on a wall with great interest. If he wasn’t mistaken, this particular cured wild boar meat was a specialty of his own Randell Fief.

Randell Fief raised more wild boars than it had people. At the end of the Season of Wind last year, the fief had slaughtered seven thousand pigs at once, yielding more pork than they could eat. To preserve the meat, Victor had adopted a Huaxian method for making cured meat. The pork was seasoned with wild spices and salt, then pickled in jars. After several dozen days, it was removed, strung up with hemp rope to drip dry, and then slowly smoked over Purple Cane husks and firewood. The resulting cured meat not only had a unique flavor but could also be preserved for eight months.

To see this cured meat in a freemen’s market in Vistock meant that trade between Randell Fief and Wildwillow City had already begun, and had even radiated out to the surrounding territories.

Lilia has done a fine job. I must reward her handsomely when I get back!

Suppressing his delight, Victor said to Duke Wellington, “My lord, I’m very sorry. My whim has caused you so much trouble.”

“Lord Randell, to be concerned with the people’s suffering is a merciful virtue. Your good deeds will surely be blessed by our Lord,” interjected a middle-aged man standing nearby, dressed in a bishop’s robes and holding a scepter. He was Bishop Saen, responsible for the south-central and southern dioceses of the Kingdom of Gambia.

Victor had spent nearly two months traveling, arriving in Vistock, the central city of Duke Wellington’s duchy, in the middle of the Season of Earth. Along the way, Victor had been received with the utmost courtesy and lavish hospitality by the local lords. As soon as he entered the kingdom’s south-central region, Duke Wellington had dispatched the family’s Great Knight to welcome his convoy. Every time they passed through a family’s territory, the local lord’s heir and the resident priest would lead retainers and Sacred Warriors to accompany them for the entire leg of the journey. This reception was practically seamless.

On the day Victor arrived in Vistock, Duke Wellington hosted a welcome banquet at his residence to wash away the dust of his journey. Not only were all the important members of the Wellington family present, but Bishop Saen also attended in person. Victor, Judy, and Duke Wellington had an in-depth exchange about the affairs of Bryat’s fief and reached a series of consensuses. For the next three days, the Wellington family held a continuous string of banquets, tea parties, and balls in Victor’s honor.

After three days of socializing, Victor could finally bear it no longer. He told Duke Wellington that he still needed to visit the southern lords and could not stay in Vistock any longer, and then requested a tour of the freemen’s commercial district.

Victor hadn’t expected Duke Wellington to have the entire street sealed off, with the Duke himself and Bishop Saen personally accompanying him.

A Duke and a Bishop simultaneously accompanying a Viscount on a tour of the lower-class people’s dwellings—this was no longer just about giving face to Sylvia. Victor understood that he was receiving the treatment befitting a Gold Knight. And he had Roland to thank for all of it.

In this aristocratic world where Bloodline was everything, Roland had “kindly” allowed Victor to step into the circle of the great nobles. This had indeed greatly enhanced his status and influence, but it was not what Victor wanted.

Victor had too many secrets, and he detested being the center of attention. For instance, he was already worrying about how, in the coming days, he would manage to sneak into the Gloomy Forest under such a large escort to inspect the ruins his Alchemical militia had discovered, and then slip out again without anyone noticing.

“It is no trouble at all,” Duke Wellington said, shaking his head. “In fact, these freemen renovate the streets and their houses every six months. Victor, do you know why?”

Victor composed himself and said with a smile, “Is it because there are too many able-bodied men?”

“Precisely,” Duke Wellington said with a nod. “The number of refugees in the kingdom’s south-central territories is enormous, second only to the central region. My Wellington duchy alone has nearly one hundred and twenty thousand refugees.” The Duke paused, then gestured at the surrounding houses with a laugh. “Many lords see refugees as a burden; they fail to understand their value. You see, I hired refugees to build Vistock’s outer district. It may have seemed like a waste of gold and grain, but every year I collect rent, transaction taxes, management fees, and security taxes from these shops. In just ten years, I recouped my entire investment. Now, the market in the outer district creates wealth for our Wellington family every single day.”

“I use this income to continue hiring refugees to build roads, bridges, castles, towns, and outposts. The infrastructure in the Wellington duchy is exceptionally well-developed, yet in truth, I haven’t spent a single copper sol, because all of this is wealth created by the refugees.”

“In addition, the families of my subjects in Wellington more or less all hire some refugees as laborers. This gives my subjects enough time to receive militia training or engage in other forms of production, such as making pottery, woodwork, ironware, tanning leather, weaving flax cloth, cashmere blankets, and so on. This extra income not only makes my subjects’ lives more prosperous, but they can also pay a certain amount of money to be exempted from labor service, while I use that money to hire refugees for labor service at an even lower price.”

“In our Wellington duchy, the number of artisans is very high, and the quality of our militia is comparable to the soldiers of other territories. This is all because of the vast number of refugees in our lands.”

Victor had to restrain himself from applauding Duke Wellington’s insights.

Before his visit, Victor had crammed information about the relevant noble families. The Wellington family’s history could be traced back one thousand years; its founder was once a retainer knight of an Auguste family ancestor. Because of this connection, the Wellington family was staunchly loyal to the Auguste family and controlled the second-largest grain-producing region in the Kingdom of Gambia. The Wellington and Auguste families had intermarried many times; the family had produced one Queen and two Gold Knights. It could be said that the blood of royalty flowed in the veins of this family’s descendants. Currently, the Wellington family possessed four direct-line Great Knights, four branch-line Great Knights, thirty-six Knights, over two hundred apprentice knights, and four thousand elite soldiers. Although many of these were artificially created Knights, their overall strength was second to none among the great nobles of Gambia.

The current Duke Wellington was an ordinary noble. It was relatively rare for an ordinary noble to inherit a family title. The heads of most noble houses were Knights, because Knights lived much longer than ordinary nobles. If the family heir was an ordinary noble, it was likely he wouldn’t live to see the day he inherited the title. Duke Wellington’s father had also been an ordinary noble scholar who passed away before the old Duke. On his deathbed, the old Duke Wellington had summoned his eldest legitimate grandson back from the Silver Spire to inherit the ducal title.

Because he had cut his studies short, Wellington had not obtained the title of Master Scholar, but his knowledge was in no way inferior to one. Duke Wellington himself was also a close friend and advisor to the late King Ryan. With the royal family’s support, he had secured his position as Duke. Therefore, Duke Wellington was a staunch ally of Queen Catherine and Prince Edward.

However, Duke Wellington had once helped King Ryan formulate the strategy to divide the York family. His courtesy towards Victor was not without the consideration of easing the tensions between their two sides.

“Victor, your so-called plan to establish an independent trade district in Bryat’s fief—your real purpose is to bring in refugees, is it not?” Duke Wellington asked, his gaze sharp and penetrating.

Victor’s eyes narrowed. He was noncommittal. “It’s merely a fortunate coincidence.”

“Austin was blinded by greed and fell into a foreigner’s trap, even hunting down his family’s heir. He brought his death upon himself.”

Duke Wellington nodded and continued, “The Centaur Hills needs a population. This is a fact.”

“Victor, you may not know this, but Master Edwin and I are also friends. We both support absorbing the wisdom of the common people to enrich the Spire’s repository of knowledge.”

Wellington had once attended Sophia and Victor’s wedding. He spoke to Victor in a paternal tone, “I have studied the new agropastoral system Edwin created in the Centaur Hills—penning wild boars, grazing cattle and sheep, planting wheat and ground-potatoes. It is truly a great innovation. I believe it won’t be long before the York family recovers its strength.” As he spoke, Duke Wellington shook his head with regret. “Unfortunately, only the Centaur Hills, cleansed by the Ant-man plague, can adopt this new system of agricultural production. However, the York family must succeed in raising cattle and sheep before the beasts and monsters reclaim the wilderness. This will require a large number of able-bodied men, not to mention that the construction of the three major fortresses cannot be delayed.”

Victor let out a light breath and praised, “My lord Duke, your insight is like a torch. Your wisdom fills me with admiration.”

Duke Wellington smiled demurely and said slowly, “Bringing in refugees is no simple matter. I wonder if you have made the necessary preparations.”

“Please enlighten me, my lord Duke,” Victor asked with the utmost sincerity.

“Freemen are coarse and vulgar. Without effective guidance and control, they breed crime and cause turmoil; bloodshed is a frequent occurrence. The problem of maintaining order among refugees is a headache for any lord.” As he spoke, Duke Wellington nodded towards Bishop Saen beside him. “Therefore, you not only need a seasoned magistrate, but you also need the Church’s help.”

“The Duke is right,” Saen said with a nod, picking up the thread. “Lord Randell, that the Centaur Hills is willing to settle refugees is a good deed, and I fully support the Duke’s suggestion. But I must remind you, this is also a risky endeavor. The slightest misstep could lead to catastrophic consequences.”

“For a long time now, the migration and settlement of refugees have been accomplished under the guidance of the Church. You will indeed need the Church’s assistance.” Saen sighed and said, “The church affairs in the Centaur Hills are currently managed by Bishop Pello. I suggest you petition Bishop Pello for more priests and Sacred Warriors to help you pacify the populace.”

Lazarus had accepted Victor’s request, demanding that the diocese under Saen’s charge not interfere with the migration of refugees to the Centaur Hills. When Saen received the Archbishop’s letter, he was shocked, furious, and anxious all at once.

The population of a diocese was a key metric for evaluating a Bishop’s performance. Lazarus was about to be promoted to Cardinal Archbishop, and the position of Archbishop of Gambia would soon be vacant. The four bishops of Gambia were all rubbing their hands together, preparing to contend for it. At this critical moment, how could Lazarus’s stance not make Saen suspicious?

The Centaur Hills was now under Pello’s jurisdiction. Was the Archbishop planning to support Pello’s promotion? Burning with anxiety, Saen took this question to Duke Wellington, seeking a counter-strategy. He had great faith in Wellington’s wisdom and foresight.

Duke Wellington had long since lost patience with the ever-increasing number of refugees. The information Saen provided made him ecstatic. If handled properly, he was confident he could keep his fief’s population within the most reasonable limits. Duke Wellington told Saen that funneling the refugees to the Centaur Hills would actually be to his advantage, as it would greatly tie up Bishop Pello’s vigor. If Pello handled it poorly, the Church would blame him. If Pello did an outstanding job, the Church would have him continue to preside over the church affairs of the Centaur Hills. This would, in effect, eliminate one of his most powerful competitors.

Bishop Saen was suddenly enlightened. He resolved to cooperate with Duke Wellington to guide the migration of refugees and add to Pello’s burdens.

As if I want the Church’s people meddling!

Victor was completely unaware of Duke Wellington and Bishop Saen’s scheming and had no interest in the Church’s internal rivalries. He had long since formulated a comprehensive plan for absorbing refugees and had no need for the Church to pacify them.

“Thank you for the reminder, Your Excellency,” Victor said, his heart dismissive, though he had to feign gratitude on the surface.

Bishop Saen said enthusiastically, “There’s no need to thank me, Lord Randell. I am merely following the teachings of our Lord. However,” Saen frowned and asked, “Lord Randell, settling refugees requires a large amount of grain and supplies. Is the Centaur Hills prepared?”

“Heh.”

Victor laughed coldly in his heart. He had long since seen through Duke Wellington and Bishop Saen’s coordinated act.

Duke Wellington extolled the benefits of refugees while Bishop Saen played the supporting role. Now their true intentions were revealed; they just wanted to make a huge profit off of him. Unfortunately for them, Victor had no intention of spending money to settle refugees!

Victor didn’t understand economic theories or human resources, but looking down from a lord’s perspective, it wasn’t hard to see that Duke Wellington’s theory about refugees creating wealth didn’t hold water.

On Earth, Victor had farmed land, herded sheep, hauled bricks, and worked as a chef. He believed in one simple truth: planting one seed of wheat and harvesting ten was creating wealth; turning two sheep into a flock was creating wealth. Apart from the renewable sectors of agriculture, forestry, animal husbandry, and fishery, all other industries—handicrafts, services, commerce, and even manufacturing and high-tech industries—could create civilization, but they could not create wealth. At best, these sectors merely redistributed society’s wealth.

Making cars was more profitable than farming! But could you eat cars? If all the farmers went to build cars, would societal wealth increase? The foundation determines the superstructure. If the foundation shrinks, the superstructure will become unstable. If the upper industries collapse, the foundation will be affected to a limited extent. But if the foundation is destroyed, then everything is finished. Agropastoral production was the foundational industry. If not a single grain of food could be grown from the earth, what value would cars, mobile phones, airplanes, and cruise ships have? What wealth would there be to speak of?

Duke Wellington’s duchy was overpopulated; the land’s output simply couldn’t feed so many people. Duke Wellington had indeed accumulated wealth through trade by selling handicrafts, but this wealth had to be used to buy grain to sustain his territory. Looking at the entire Kingdom of Gambia, how much grain could it truly produce? The larger the population, the greater the demand for grain, and the higher the price of grain. As the population grew, Duke Wellington’s profits were shrinking and his burden was growing. Victor refused to believe he wasn’t anxious.

The fact that the freemen repaired and rebuilt this street over and over was a clear sign of Duke Wellington’s predicament. Furthermore, Victor was perfectly clear on what game Duke Wellington was playing.

Every lord stored wheat for emergencies, but wheat would spoil after three years. Victor was quite certain that Duke Wellington had donated all his three-year-old grain to the Church to relieve the refugees. The Duke’s plan was obviously to dump the refugees on the Centaur Hills, then sell the old grain to the York family, earning Victor’s gratitude in the process.

Heh, passing the buck, making a profit, and earning a favor—there’s no such easy deal in this world! Sorry, I’ll take the people! But you’ll have to keep supporting them for me!

“We are not prepared.”

Victor shook his head. A flicker of triumph flashed in Duke Wellington’s eyes, but then he heard Victor continue, “Because we weren’t planning on bringing in any refugees!”

Victor looked innocently at the stunned Bishop Saen. Even with Duke Wellington’s great composure, his cheek couldn’t help but twitch.

After a moment of cold silence, Duke Wellington smiled, a graceful and mysterious expression on his face. “Victor, you are leaving tomorrow. I plan to give you a gift, one you will surely like! But I cannot tell you what it is now.”

“Oh?!” Victor asked curiously, “My lord, can you give me a hint?”

“A unique crop!”

Chapter 234: The Spiked Kidney Bean

Early in the morning.

A convoy of carriages slowly departed from Vistock’s Nobles’ District. Under the protection of soldiers, the convoy soon passed through the city gates.

Once outside, the carriages traveled a short distance down a tree-lined boulevard before turning onto a country lane.

The country road was far narrower than the main avenue, with many forks and several inclines and declines. The convoy moved at a halting pace, making continuous turns and progressing very slowly. The branches of the trees on either side of the road scraped against the carriage walls with a rustling sound, and Victor, who had intended to enjoy the scenery outside his window, could only give up on the idea.

The carriage continued like this for half an hour before finally coming to a stop. Victor opened the window and was greeted by a view of neat, verdant fields.

In the Season of Earth, all things were reborn. The land had returned to life, and the crops in the fields were growing splendidly. Green wheat shoots swayed in the wind, sending ripples of green across the boundless fields. Besides the wheat, there was alfalfa. The newly grown alfalfa was like a green carpet laid across the fertile land, its tiny yellow flowers like specks of decoration. Not far away stood a farmhouse. Somehow, a small calf had broken through its fence and was frolicking on the green carpet. A farmer, flustered, threw down his hayfork, rushed over to grab the calf by its hind legs, and dragged the little mooing fellow back to the cowshed, cursing all the while.

There was still hay left over from last year; now was not the time to let livestock waste good pasture.

Victor took Judy’s small hand and stepped down from the carriage. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He adored this scent, a blend of nature and civilization.

“Victor, Judy, this is the place I wanted to bring you,” Duke Wellington said, strolling over. After the two had paid their respects, he turned to Victor. “The gift is behind the manor.”

“The south-central region of the kingdom covers an area of one hundred thousand square kilometers, and our Wellington family occupies fifty-seven thousand square kilometers of that territory. We have reclaimed thirty-two million mu of arable land on the plains along both banks of the Blinor River, while the total cultivated area in the entire south-central region exceeds sixty-five million mu, making it the kingdom’s second-largest grain-producing area.”

Duke Wellington pointed at the manor and said, “This manor manages twenty thousand mu of farmland, including six thousand mu of wheat, ten thousand mu of pasture, and…” Just as he was speaking, a stout man led a group of people to greet them in a hurry.

“My lord Duke Wellington! Good day!”

The stout man trotted over and knelt before Duke Wellington. The men and women behind him either knelt or bowed, but their voices rang out in perfect unison. A closer look at their demeanor made it clear that they had all undergone strict military training.

Duke Wellington nodded at the man, then turned to Victor and said, “This is Harrien, the manor lord of Tarn Manor. My Vassal.”

“My generous and merciful master! Your visit brings light to Tarn Manor, and it is my greatest honor to walk in your footsteps!” the man declared in a loud voice as he rose to his feet. His voice was so high and resonant that half the manor could likely hear him.

“That’s enough, Harrien! Even a lark would be stunned by that sappy, booming voice of yours!” a handsome young Knight beside the Duke chided the manor lord.

“Oh, noble and handsome Young Master Dakru, please forgive old Harrien for not seeing you. It is because your radiance is so dazzling that it has blinded old Harrien’s eyes.” Harrien, the manor lord, shifted his flattery to the Duke’s heir. “To express my sincerest apologies, I have prepared two colts for you. I promise they are the purest Kares horses.”

“Really?!” Dakru’s eyes lit up at once. He was eager to go see the pure-blooded Kares colts, but seeing his father’s stern gaze, he sheepishly retracted the foot he had stepped forward. “Ahem! Old Harrien, have those two colts ready. I’ll take them with me when I leave.”

“My esteemed Young Master Dakru, I just had a servant take the two colts out for a stroll. How about this, I’ll have my purest, most beautiful little daughter, Susanna, deliver the two Kares colts to your residence tonight,” Harrien said, wringing his hands in feigned panic, but his darting eyes betrayed his true intentions.

The scene was comical. Just as Marquess Golan had said, the vassalage system had sullied the bloodlines of noble Knights with far too much common blood. In Harrien’s eyes, wasn’t Duke Wellington’s eldest son just a pure-blooded stud horse? However, the small, pale hand resting on his arm kept Victor from enjoying the spectacle; he himself was in no better a position.

Duke Wellington clearly couldn’t bear to watch any longer. He said to Harrien, “This is my most honored guest, Viscount Randell and his wife, Judy.”

“Lord Viscount Randell, good day, may your glory shine bright. The Viscount’s wife, Judy, good day, may your beauty be everlasting,” Harrien said, bowing to Victor and Judy.

This manor lord, who was so skilled at flattery, was like a different person now. His attitude was respectful yet composed. Victor couldn’t help but take a second look at him.

Harrien was nearly fifty, with bright, spirited eyes and a stout, solid frame. The muscles on his thick arms were gnarled, and his palms were covered with thick calluses, giving him a formidable appearance. The dozen or so men and women behind him were likely his relatives, his children, and his nephews. The men were all strong and powerful, with the same formidable air, while the women were poised and dignified, clearly well-educated. Among them, a young woman of outstanding beauty was gazing at Duke Wellington’s heir with a look full of tender affection. She must be Harrien’s youngest daughter, Susanna.

Victor couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy. What he lacked right now were loyal and reliable vassals who could fight bravely and manage production.

“Let’s go look at the fields out back,” Duke Wellington said, leading the group into the manor.

Whether intentionally or not, Duke Wellington spoke as they walked, “Harrien’s family has served our Wellington family for generations. Twelve of his brothers, sons, and nephews serve in the army. His manor employs over six hundred freemen, and he provides an annual tribute of one hundred fifty sheep, forty cattle, five horses, and seven hundred thousand pounds of grain.”

“My lord, and four hundred thousand pounds of milk, over two hundred geese, over four hundred chickens, goose eggs, chicken eggs…”

Duke Wellington shot a glare at the fawning Harrien, silencing him, and continued, “Harrien also manages a village of over one thousand one hundred subjects and over one thousand refugee laborers for me. He trains four hundred militia and controls three hundred square kilometers of territory on my behalf. The annual tribute from that village is double that of this manor.”

What’s there to be so proud of! In a few years, any one of my villages will have several times your population and output!

Victor felt a sour knot in his stomach, but he maintained an elegant smile as he walked and surveyed the manor.

The manor was of a moderate size, capable of housing about a thousand people. Behind the blackened Iron-oak fence stood several tall arrow towers. The houses were in decent repair but were all of earth-and-wood construction. A few glossy-coated hounds darted out from an alley, but their barks were quickly silenced by Harrien’s men. Victor also noticed that Harrien and his family were dressed with dignity, and the women even wore jewelry.

This was a wealthy vassal family! Victor’s confidence in the green brick trade grew.

Behind the manor was another vast expanse of farmland, where vegetables and fruits were grown. One type of short tree was particularly conspicuous. These man-high, thorny trees looked very much like fruit trees, but instead of fruit, they bore bean pods. Victor estimated that of the four thousand mu of farmland, three thousand were planted with these trees, at twenty plants per mu.

“Victor, this is the gift I wanted to give you,” Duke Wellington said with a smile, walking up to one of the short trees.

“My lord, what are these?” Victor asked.

“Spiked Kidney Beans,” Duke Wellington said, plucking a pod and handing it to Victor. “These beans are edible, and each plant yields thirty pounds.”

The pod resembled a fava bean from Earth, only longer. Victor shelled it, revealing plump, tender green beans inside, about the same size as fava beans. Crushing one, Victor felt its moisture content was also similar to a fava bean’s.

“A yield of six hundred pounds of beans per mu? That’s excellent!” Victor said with delight.

“Six hundred pounds per mu per month,” Duke Wellington added.

“What?! My lord, did I hear you correctly? Per month? Not per year?!” Victor looked at Duke Wellington in disbelief. He was sure he hadn’t misheard, which meant the Duke must have misspoken, saying ‘month’ instead of ‘year.’

“Victor, you heard correctly, and I spoke correctly. It is six hundred pounds per mu per month.” Duke Wellington nodded with great certainty. “These Spiked Kidney Beans are harvested once a month. A month later, they will have regrown, ready for a second harvest. Starting from the second month of the Season of Earth and ending in the third month of the Season of Fire, the Spiked Kidney Bean can be harvested continuously for five months, for an annual yield of three thousand pounds per mu.”

An annual yield of three thousand pounds of beans per mu?! This was practically a divine crop!

Victor drew in a sharp breath. The commoners’ diet consisted mainly of wheat porridge and black bread, supplemented with beans, vegetables, nuts, and a small amount of meat and dairy. Beans alone made up over thirty percent of their food. These included black beans, peas, and foraged soldier beans, as well as the most nutritious kidney beans. However, kidney beans were a fine feed for warhorses, with a price even higher than wheat. Regardless of the Spiked Kidney Bean’s nutritional value, its absurdly high yield alone made it priceless. It was fair to say that compared to Duke Wellington’s Spiked Kidney Beans, Victor’s new agropastoral system was a joke. After all, these beans grew on trees, which obviously didn’t need to be sown every year!

After his initial astonishment, Victor felt a great sense of doubt.

Why hadn’t such a miraculous crop been popularized? This world had no concept of patents or intellectual property protection laws. Even if Duke Wellington guarded it jealously, preventing freemen from taking the seeds, he couldn’t withstand pressure from the Church and the royal family.

Victor thought for a moment, then asked, “My lord Duke, how long does it take for a Spiked Kidney Bean tree to mature? How long before it dies? Does it have special requirements for the soil? Or does it have some flaw?”

“The Spiked Kidney Bean tree takes only one year to mature and can be planted at any time. After ten years, it must be replanted, or it will become toxic,” Duke Wellington explained to Victor. “This crop is the fruit of four generations of scholars from our Wellington family. We spent one hundred and twenty-seven years improving the poisonous Spiked Bean until we successfully cultivated an edible Spiked Kidney Bean.”

“The bean does indeed have its flaws. First, Spiked Kidney Beans cannot be fed to cattle, sheep, or horses, but humans can eat them, and wild boars will also sneak in to eat them. Second, Spiked Kidney Beans must be consumed soon after being picked. If eaten after more than twenty days, they can cause diarrhea or even poisoning, and drying them is useless,” Duke Wellington said, shaking his head with regret.

The realization dawned on Victor. For a lord, a crop that could neither feed livestock nor be stored was only valuable for feeding commoners—or more precisely, for feeding refugees. Not only would a lord not make money by planting Spiked Kidney Beans, but they would also attract refugees. Of course they wouldn’t want to promote such a crop.

However, planting Spiked Kidney Beans could effectively protect a domain’s natural resources by preventing refugees from poaching and illegal gathering. The Wellington family had relied on this crop to ensure the sustainable development of their territory, and the refugees, having found a stable life in the south-central region, were naturally reluctant to leave. As the number of refugees grew day by day, the Wellington family was forced to expand the area dedicated to Spiked Kidney Beans, which in turn repeatedly reduced the land available for wheat and pasture, harming the interests of the lord, his vassals, and his subjects.

The Wellington family was trapped in a vicious cycle. The other families saw this, and feared it, so who would dare to plant Spiked Kidney Beans?

Is this a case of diverting a disaster onto others? But I really, really want it!

Victor furrowed his brow in thought. Duke Wellington’s heart was on pins and needles; he had been sure Victor wouldn’t refuse the Spiked Kidney Beans, but now he wasn’t so certain.

Victor turned to look at Reno and Shak beside him, then broke into a smile. “My lord Duke, I like this gift of yours very much!”

And so, Duke Wellington smiled, Dakru the Knight smiled, Harrien smiled, and the Duke’s personal guards smiled. When everyone was smiling, Reno and Shak stretched their facial muscles and also produced a very standard smile.

Chapter 235: The Initiative

Victor’s carriage gradually receded into the distance. Duke Wellington withdrew his gaze and Dakru Wellington walked to his side. “Father,” he asked, “will Viscount Randell promote Spiked Kidney Beans in the Centaur Hills?”

“I don’t know.” Duke Wellington let out a long breath. “What I can be sure of is that the York family has completely seized the initiative, and it’s all because I was too hasty.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Duke Wellington shook his head with a bitter smile. When he had first learned of Victor’s request from Bishop Saen, he had been so busy reveling in secret delight that he hadn’t calmly weighed the pros and cons. As a result, he had misjudged the situation and exposed his strategic intentions to Victor. Now, he was completely on the back foot. If he wanted to readjust his fief’s industrial layout, he would likely have to make even more concessions to the York family.

“Dakru, what were the York family’s demands concerning Bryat’s fief?” Duke Wellington decided to use his own mistake to enlighten his heir.

“To restore the status quo, maintain the independence of Bryat’s fief, and engage in normal trade,” Dakru replied.

“Indeed.” Duke Wellington nodded. “The terms proposed by the York family were very lenient, and quite perplexing. We could never figure out their intentions.”

After the upheaval in the Briatte family, the York and Briatte families held talks with the Wellington and Sorim families respectively. The content of the negotiations included the recall of Bryat’s fief’s scattered registered population, the Briatte family’s withdrawal from the southern lords’ sphere of influence, and the York family’s non-interference in the affairs of Bryat’s fief. In return, the south-central and southern lords were not to take hostile measures against the Briatte family, or it would be considered a provocation against the York family.

It was an outcome that pleased everyone. Both the Wellington and Sorim families welcomed the results. However, the York family’s act of goodwill was baffling and completely out of character for a powerful family. Duke Wellington convened his advisors and studied the matter for a long time, finally concluding that the events in Bryat’s fief were not orchestrated by the York family. Rather, Lady Rose was extending an olive branch to the Gambis Royal Family and the feudal lords because the York family needed Gambis’s support.

Prince Edward’s tour of the Centaur Hills and Victor’s trip to the Royal Capital to face the Senate’s inquiry both seemed to confirm this view. It was not until Victor left Vistock that Duke Wellington finally understood the York family’s true scheme.

“Dakru, House Sorim has fallen into decline. Their control over the southern lords is weakening by the day. This was originally our opportunity to expand our influence.” Duke Wellington clasped his hands behind his back. “Our original strategy was to win over and support the smaller southern lords, encouraging them to plant Spiked Kidney Beans and accept refugees from the south-central region. With House Sorim’s strength greatly diminished, they would have been powerless to stop this plan. As more and more refugees flooded into the south, House Sorim would have also been forced to plant Spiked Kidney Beans to cover their food shortage. At that point, we could have uprooted the beans, planted pasture grass, and restructured our own industry.”

“So, Bryat’s fief was the key,” Dakru said with a nod.

Duke Wellington waved a hand dismissively. “The Briatte family was never an obstacle! Their territory is long and narrow, with no strategic depth. Refugees need only carry two days of rations to cross Bryat’s fief and enter the southern domains.” He shook his head. “Unfortunately, Grand Duke Williams would never let us succeed.”

The south-central region of Gambis has much land but few mines, while the south has little land but many mines. Once Duke Wellington’s plan was complete, refugees from the south-central region would flood into the south. The southern lords would have to expand their cultivation of Spiked Kidney Beans, which would inevitably lead to a reduction in cattle, sheep, and wheat production. To settle the refugees, the southern lords could only employ them in mining and sell the minerals abroad to cover their financial losses. At that point, Duke Wellington could trade his livestock and wheat for the south’s various mineral resources, then use his vast number of artisans to process them into goods for sale. Ultimately, with their huge grain production capacity and superior geographical location, the Wellington family would be able to influence the decisions of the southern lords and complete their own industrial adjustment.

Grand Duke Williams might not care how much money the Wellington family made, but he could not tolerate the Queen’s faction influencing House Sorim’s neutral stance—House Sorim also held a seat in the Senate. Therefore, Grand Duke Williams had roped in Austin, who wanted to inherit his title, to block the Wellington family’s infiltration of the south.

Under the Grand Duke’s instruction, Austin used disaster in his fief as an excuse to drive out his people, most of whom flowed into the sphere of influence of the south-central lords. This was, in fact, a warning from Grand Duke Williams to Duke Wellington.

Dakru looked at his father’s graying hair and could not help but sigh.

Grand Duke Williams’s counterattack had indeed made things difficult for the Wellington family, but it was not a major blow; at most, it would maintain the status quo. As long as Princess Royal Roland stood behind Prince Edward, they would not lose!

However, when the York family turned their attention eastward, Duke Wellington never had another good night’s sleep. The York family was backed by a Spirit Knight, held the Centaur Hills, possessed a title and a fief, and held a tremendous attraction for the new generation of knights. If the York family were to hold a military tournament in Bryat’s fief, the new generation of apprentice knights from the south-central region would inevitably flock to sign up for a chance to be granted their own lands.

Those naturally awakened apprentice knights were the future of the Wellington family. Duke Wellington’s attempt to restructure industry and integrate the south’s resources was precisely to acquire benefits to appease the newcomers in his family. If they were to leave the family’s ranks and throw themselves into the arms of the York family, the Wellington family’s decline would be inevitable. That was when Duke Wellington’s hair had turned white.

Fortunately, none of that had happened.

“Father, although the York family has no plans to absorb refugees, we have still maintained the status quo. There’s no need for you to worry anymore,” Dakru could not help but advise.

Duke Wellington looked at Dakru coolly. “Who said we can maintain the status quo? And who said the York family has no plans to absorb refugees?”

“Dakru, you must understand, for a family, not advancing is regressing! Our fief’s wealth is like a loaf of bread. When there are more people, the slices each person gets are smaller. Her Highness Sylvia and His Highness Goron both came from minor families. They joined the York and Auguste families only because they could not get a slice of bread. Do you think their original families regret it now? If our Wellington family also misses out on such figures, will you regret it?” Duke Wellington patted Dakru’s shoulder. “My son, you must remember that as the leader of the family, you must make the bread bigger. This is our responsibility!”

“Father, I will take your words to heart!” Dakru said solemnly.

Duke Wellington nodded, clasped his hands behind his back, and continued walking. “Our Wellington duchy was already over-populated to begin with. During the Ant-man plague, Saen organized the retreat of refugees from Bryat’s fief and foisted more than twenty-nine thousand people on me! Then Austin drove out his registered populace, and another ten thousand or so came running over…” As he spoke, Duke Wellington laughed self-deprecatingly. “With an extra forty thousand people in the fief all at once, I lost my patience. Without thinking it through, I simply assumed the York family was planning to relocate refugees on a massive scale.”

“The Centaur Hills needs people, but the York family has no intention of a large-scale relocation of refugees.” Duke Wellington raised his voice. “A large-scale migration would cost the York family a fortune, but they don’t have the money, nor do they intend to spend it. They want us to bear the cost of the refugees’ migration!”

“How could we possibly agree to that!” Dakru said resentfully.

“It’s useless even if we don’t. We and the southern lords can no longer change this reality. Lady Rose’s methods are truly admirable!” Duke Wellington shook his head with a bitter smile. “Dakru, think carefully about the consensus Viscount Randell and I reached. you should be able to see the trick.”

“Maintain the Briatte family’s independence, recall the population, trade… trade? Trade!” Dakru muttered to himself. A flash of insight struck him, and he realized, “I understand! It’s the trade!”

“Correct! Trade is the key!”

Duke Wellington said with approval, “The Briatte family recalling its registered subjects is beneficial to us. House Sorim is in no position to refuse the maintenance of the Briatte family’s independence, we have no reason to refuse, and the Royal Family will not permit us or House Sorim to refuse. We need the southern minerals and have always traded with the southern lords through Wildwillow City. Now the York family requests to participate in the trade at Wildwillow City, to exchange goods. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“But I don’t understand, what can the York family trade with us? They won’t sell their Purple Cane wine or refined iron. Wheels and green bricks are dispensable to us. And coarse foods like cured meat and raw sugar are only eaten by vassals and commoners. How much money can the York family possibly make from that?”

“Father,” Dakru interrupted Duke Wellington, “I’ve had the cured meat and raw sugar… they taste very good.”

“I know!”

Having let it slip, Duke Wellington shot his son a fierce glare and continued, “Trade will attract a large number of refugees to Wildwillow City to make a living. Bryat’s fief and ours belong to the same diocese, so the Church will still use the old grain and Spiked Kidney Beans we donate as relief aid for the refugees. And the Briatte family is completely obedient to the York family; they will guide the refugees into the Centaur Hills to make a living as the York family demands. The Yorks can then recruit refugees according to their own grain production. A flow of a few hundred or a thousand people at a time won’t affect them at all! The only one who could hinder the York family is Bishop Saen.”

“However, Saen doesn’t dare to defy Archbishop Lazarus’s decree.” Duke Wellington shook his head with regret. “We are helping the York family complete their population migration, yet we get no Purple Cane wine or refined iron in return. This is truly…”

The longer Purple Cane wine was aged, the more valuable it became. Refined iron was a strategic resource the Wellington family desperately needed. They had once invested heavily to occupy thirty thousand square kilometers of territory in the Centaur Hills, encompassing two rich mines of refined iron. But the Ant-man plague forced the Wellington family to withdraw. Duke Wellington had never stopped thinking about it; he still wanted to use grain to compel the York family to open up trade in refined iron and Purple Cane wine. However, Victor’s watertight immigration strategy had foiled Duke Wellington’s plans.

Dakru was silent for a moment before he placated the indignant Duke Wellington. “Father, this is in all of our interests. Is it not?”

“You’re right.” Duke Wellington smiled. “There’s no shame in losing to Lady Rose, but I’m just a little unwilling to accept it! So, I will use Victor to win back a round.”

“Father, are you certain that Viscount Randell will plant Spiked Kidney Beans? The York family will never sit by and watch. Does he dare to defy Lady Rose’s will?”

Victor planting Spiked Kidney Beans would enhance the Randell Fief’s capacity to accommodate people, thereby accelerating the migration of refugees to the Centaur Hills. Duke Wellington had explained the pros and cons of the beans to Victor in detail and seemed very confident. Dakru, however, was not optimistic about his father’s scheme. If it were him, he would not have fallen into this trap.

“Viscount Randell is young and impetuous, eager to prove himself, and shortsighted in his actions. His character is evident from his killing of Austin and the creation of the work point system.”

Duke Wellington stared into the distance, speaking with confidence. “But his Bloodline is noble, and Lady Rose will find it hard to refuse his willfulness.”

“His Lordship, Viscount Randell, now has the right to be willful!”

——————————————

“Darling, I suggest you don’t plant Spiked Kidney Beans!”

Victor leaned against the carriage wall, staring into Judy’s bright eyes, and asked with a smile, “Why?”

“I rarely inquire about the fief’s affairs, but I often hear people discussing Spiked Kidney Beans at banquets. Everyone says planting them is the most foolish thing to do, that it’s just feeding a lot of rabble for nothing. The Wellington family’s cultivation of Spiked Kidney Beans has become a laughingstock for everyone.” Judy shook her head, took Victor’s hand, and said softly, “Please don’t plant Spiked Kidney Beans, alright?”

“Let me tell you why.” Victor gripped Judy’s slender hand in return. “Spiked Kidney Beans can’t be stored, which means they can’t be sold. A lord gains no profit from planting them, and can only donate them to the Church or distribute them to refugees for free.”

“With free food, the refugees can save their wages, improve their lives, have children, and grow their numbers. They dream of becoming subjects of Duke Wellington, or learning a trade, or running a shop to become rich. Some have indeed succeeded. That’s why the refugees are unwilling to leave the Wellington duchy, and eventually, their numbers grow so large that they become a huge burden on the fief.”

“Bryat’s fief doesn’t need to plant Spiked Kidney Beans!”

Judy’s pretty face flushed red. Using the jolt of the carriage, she threw herself into her lover’s arms. She had been genuinely worried that Victor would make such a demand. Judy knew full well she was powerless to defy Victor’s will, but planting Spiked Kidney Beans would have drawn unanimous opposition from her family members. Victor’s consideration left her feeling both ashamed and warm.

Holding the beauty in his arms, Victor sighed inwardly. His decision not to ask the Briatte family to plant Spiked Kidney Beans was not out of kindness or tenderness. If the Briatte family had actually tried to plant them, he would have been the one to stop them.

Victor intended to turn Bryat’s fief into a trade district, a place for population flow. By limiting the fief’s agricultural and pastoral development, Victor could effectively control them. As trade flourished, a large number of people would pour into Bryat’s fief, and the Briatte family would have no choice but to rely on the south-central and southern lords for food supplies. Then, as soon as Victor used his Warhounds to seal the border and prohibit refugees from migrating into the Centaur Hills, the Briatte family would find themselves in a terrible mess. Because once Victor refused to accept refugees, the Wellington and Sorim families would raise grain prices and bleed the Briatte family dry.

From start to finish, Victor held the initiative firmly in his grasp. Both the Wellington and Sorim powers had to send their surplus population to the Centaur Hills; they had to provide food support according to Victor’s wishes. And Victor would not only get the population but also earn profits through trade. The other three parties had no room to resist; they could only follow Victor’s baton, letting him mold them as he pleased.

However, Victor also profoundly understood that agriculture and animal husbandry were the foundation of a fief’s development. If his food security were in someone else’s hands, he would be the one lying on the chopping block, ready to be carved up.

The Spiked Kidney Beans must be planted!

Only with the high-yield Spiked Kidney Beans could Randell Fief engage in a division of labor and vigorously promote the development of its handicraft manufacturing industries. The most fundamental reason the Wellington family had abandoned the beans was that they lacked trade routes for export; the profits from their manufactured goods were completely snatched up by the Merchant association and the lords of Gambis.

How to lay out the trade routes, agriculture, and handicraft industries was a problem for Victor to consider later. For now, he had something to entrust to Judy.

“Judy, you’ll be returning to Wildwillow City soon. There’s something I need your help with,” Victor said softly, helping Judy up.

“Tell me. I’ll do whatever you say,” Judy said earnestly, sitting up straight.

“I will not interfere in the affairs of the Briatte family, but I need to place my people among the freemen to establish gray industries, and to manage and control them. Your magistrate must cooperate with my people.”

“Alright!” Judy agreed without hesitation. She licked her luscious red lips and asked expectantly, “Darling, can you come to Wildwillow City once a month?” Victor pinched Judy’s smooth cheek and smiled. “I’ll do my best.”

“I know you can’t come.” Judy wrapped her arms around Victor’s neck and smiled enchantingly. “But I can go to Silver Moon Manor, right? If you have a tryst with me once a month, I will belong only to you.”

“But what if something comes up and I’m delayed?” Victor said with a troubled expression.

“Unless you abandon me. Otherwise, you’ll have to make up for what you owe me,” Judy whispered, her cheek pressed against Victor’s as she murmured in his ear.

Chapter 236: Redwood Town

Redwood Castle is the central castle of Baron Schultz’s fief. It stands on the banks of the Kasan River and has a history of over one hundred years.

This massive fortification covers fifteen mu, built entirely of graystone. The thick, sturdy walls are about forty meters high, smooth and without a single visible crack. The moat surrounding the walls connects to the Kasan River, its surface shimmering, with fish and shrimp occasionally leaping from the water.

A massive Iron-oak drawbridge spans the ten-meter-wide river. A dozen or so strong soldiers stand by the windlass, ready to raise the drawbridge at a moment’s notice should the guards in the watchtower sound an alarm. On the high walls, several squads of guards patrol. Their suits of chainmail are polished to a gleam, and their bright lances sparkle. They stand tall with puffed-out chests, full of vigor, looking extraordinarily martial.

The Schultz family has ruled this fief for over three hundred years. Aside from clearing out monsters in the early days, they have hardly experienced any real wars. The baron’s vassal soldiers have passed their duties from father to son, maintaining a force of three hundred men. They normally guard the two towns, a role that includes patrolling the fief and maintaining public order. They are rarely seen at Redwood Castle.

The residents of Redwood Town are very curious; it is the first time they have ever seen the lord summon so many soldiers to guard the castle. However, Redwood Town is located in the kingdom’s heartland and has always been peaceful and stable. The residents aren’t nervous about it; it’s just a topic for idle chatter after a meal. They have plenty of work to do.

While the residents are busy with their livelihoods, Baron Schultz is busy entertaining an honored guest.

Baron Schultz is a Knight, forty years old this year, in the prime of his life. Like all rural nobles, he adheres to the duties of a lord, diligently protecting his fief and his people, having never taken a single step outside his barony. Baron Schultz feels no regret about this. He possesses a fief of twenty-six hundred square kilometers, over nineteen thousand registered citizens, two towns, eleven villages, three Knights, and eight apprentice knights. Such strength is top-tier among the baronies. The inexhaustible supply of timber from the Gloomy Forest attracts numerous caravans, bringing wealth, prosperity, and a dazzling array of goods to Redwood Town.

Redwood Town has all sorts of fine things. Why would anyone need to go anywhere else?

In fact, Baron Schultz considers his poor devil neighbors to be a bunch of country bumpkins, while he himself is a true knightly noble.

The self-proclaimed noble Baron Schultz pays close attention to the deeds of the great nobles. When he heard that Viscount Randell was about to visit his fief, he was both shocked and delighted. Although Baron Schultz doesn’t know what a Wind Walk Archer is, he knows that Viscount Randell possesses a noble Bloodline and Silver-rank strength. The Viscount not only shot and killed a Great Knight of the Briatte family but also took the Viscount’s wife for himself. He faced an inquiry from the Senate yet received no punishment. All this is enough to show that Viscount Randell is a truly great noble.

Baron Schultz began preparing for Viscount Randell’s visit. First, he arranged for the Baroness to visit her family, as he had no desire to lose his life over his wife’s beauty. After sending off his reluctant wife, Baron Schultz ordered his servants to clean the castle, scrub the moss from the walls, lay down newly purchased red carpets, and summon his guards to serve as an honor guard, demanding they present their very best to welcome the distinguished guest.

Normally, a lord should feast his guests in a comfortable noble manor, as castles are not well-suited for living. However, Baron Schultz prepared to host the visiting Viscount Randell in Redwood Castle. It was the Schultz family’s most presentable building, whereas his manor was no different from those of other rural lords—all earthen houses and wooden huts, truly nothing to show off.

Although Redwood Castle’s study was spacious, the low ceiling created an oppressive feeling. The narrow windows only let in a sliver of sunlight. Fortunately, over a hundred grayish-green candles illuminated the room brightly. The heavy redwood tables and stands exuded an aroma aged by time, which did reflect the Schultz family’s heritage.

Baron Schultz sat upright on a redwood sofa, regretting his decision. Viscount Randell was not the savage brute described in the rumors, but rather an elegant and modest young lord. The Viscount’s two personal handmaidens surpassed the Baroness in both looks and bearing. Moreover, they had noble bloodlines, both hailing from the York family as female apprentice knights. Only a reception hosted by the Baroness herself would not have been a breach of etiquette.

It’s all the fault of that rumor-mongering caravan steward! The next time his caravan comes to Redwood Town, I’ll charge him triple the tax!

Having decided to take harsh revenge on the caravan that had made him lose face, Baron Schultz’s mood improved considerably. He said with a smile, “Your Excellency Randell, please try this mushroom tea. It’s a specialty of our Schultz fief.”

A silver cup on the tea table steamed, filled with a pale yellow liquid. It smelled like broth, its rich aroma whetting the appetite. The taste could only be described as savory and delicious.

Alright, it was indeed a mushroom broth, just with the grease skimmed off, but it still retained a rich, fatty flavor.

“A very unique flavor,” Victor said, resisting the urge to gulp it down in one go, offering a tactful evaluation.

“The main ingredient of this mushroom tea is a rare red fungus found only in the Gloomy Forest. It is scarce and has a unique flavor, but it still can’t compare to the coffee from the Randell Fief. It’s a pity that an element-attuned beverage like coffee is so precious. Most nobles have never experienced its mellow and smooth taste.” A handsome young noble shook his head, then turned to Victor and said, “My father can’t stop praising coffee. He believes that drinking it long-term helps a Knight resonate with fire Elemental Nodes, and the fire Elemental Node is the most difficult one for a Knight to activate. Your Excellency Randell must understand its secrets, right?”

“I am not a Knight, but Lady Sylvia and Marquess Golan have made similar remarks,” Victor said lightly.

Since someone was praising the effects of coffee, Victor didn’t mind giving it another push.

“Then it must be true,” the young noble laughed heartily. “I recently resonated with a fire Elemental Node, and it was precisely because I’ve been drinking coffee continuously. Speaking of which, I have Your Excellency Randell to thank for inventing coffee.”

“Your Excellency Sorim, you are too kind.” Victor noticed the atmosphere in the study felt a bit off and timely changed the subject. “Your Excellency Schultz, I’ve noticed your candles are quite special. This is the first time I’ve ever seen green candles.”

Baron Schultz’s expression brightened considerably. He said with a hint of pride, “These candles are also a specialty of our Schultz fief. They’re called ‘Greensage candles,’ and they are a product that all the major caravans compete to purchase.”

“Greensage candles are actually just tallow candles mixed with greensage grass, a plant unique to the Gloomy Forest. These candles don’t have the stench of ordinary tallow candles, they burn longer and brighter. They are indeed a fine specialty.” The young noble nodded in admiration, but his next words were not so friendly. “Of course, a tallow candle is still a tallow candle. No matter how many fragrances you add, it can never compare to a lizard-oil candle.”

Baron Schultz took a deep breath, trying to calm his indignation. He indeed had no coffee, but he had plenty of lizard-oil candles stored in his warehouse! He had put a lot of thought into hosting Viscount Randell. In his view, a noble of Viscount Randell’s stature must have seen all kinds of fine things. Although the mushroom tea and Greensage candles weren’t valuable, they were local specialties that might pique the guest’s interest. But Clefton Sorim’s repeated snide remarks were infuriating.

He doesn’t even see how far his own family has fallen. The only Great Knight in their direct line is the Marquess himself. And you, a second son who isn’t even the heir, dare to criticize me?!

Angry as he was, Baron Schultz couldn’t show his dissatisfaction. The Schultz fief was an independent fief, true, but it was still part of the southern lords’ bloodline. In the early days when his family was pioneering the fief, they had relied on the support of House Sorim. The two families had even been joined by marriage. Although the Schultz family hadn’t intermarried with House Sorim for the past one hundred years, Baron Schultz did indeed have Sorim blood in his veins.

House Sorim was in decline; even the family heir was not a Knight. Baron Schultz no longer held the Sorim bloodline in high regard. That was why he had been so cold to House Sorim’s second son upon his arrival in Redwood Town.

Victor had no desire to get involved in House Sorim’s problems, nor did he care about others’ opinions. He was, however, very interested in the Greensage candles.

“Bring me one of the Greensage candles.”

An attendant quickly took down a candle and handed it to Victor. As he held it, Victor smelled a fresh fragrance and praised, “Remarkable.”

“Haha!” The gloom on Baron Schultz’s face vanished. He said magnanimously, “If Your Excellency likes them, I’ll have a cartload of Greensage candles prepared for you.”

“Thank you for your generosity, but I really can’t take so many candles with me.” Victor put the candle down and said, “What I meant was that the person who invented this candle is truly remarkable.”

The head priest of the Schultz fief, Moy, interjected, “The Greensage candle was invented by Father Kagura. Father Kagura was my predecessor’s predecessor. He discovered that the land near the Gloomy Forest couldn’t grow crops; instead, it was overgrown with this unique greensage grass. For the sake of the people’s livelihood, Father Kagura spent five years studying the grass and eventually invented the Greensage candle.”

“The land on the edge of the Gloomy Forest can’t grow crops?” Victor asked in surprise.

“It’s not that they can’t be grown,” Baron Schultz said, shaking his head. “The greensage grass is too tenacious. No matter how thoroughly you clear the farmland, it quickly gets overgrown with the stuff again. Fortunately, the grass only grows at the forest’s edge. The rest of the land can be cultivated, and we have a great harvest every year.”

“It’s not just the greensage grass that’s tenacious. The redwood trees of the Gloomy Forest also grow very quickly,” Clefton said sourly. “The trees in the Gloomy Forest can become towering giants in just twenty years, even taller and thicker than hundred-year-old trees. All the lords with fiefs near the Gloomy Forest have made a fortune just by felling trees.”

“Back then, no one would have thought this remote and backward fief could make a fortune!”

Baron Schultz’s tone was not without a hint of mockery. Clefton snorted coldly and turned his head away from the Baron.

“This is the grace of our Lord,” Father Moy said earnestly, folding his hands on his forehead. “It was the great power of our Lord that created this magical forest!”

Everyone bowed their heads and praised, “May the glory of the Lord of Radiance be eternal!”

After the prayer, Victor pointed to an oil painting on the wall and asked, “Baron Schultz, is the Knight in that painting one of your ancestors?”

Victor had noticed the painting on the wall as soon as he entered the study. It depicted a Knight with a longsword in hand, one foot on a monster. The monster had indigo skin, the body of an ape, and the head of a goat. Its lower limbs were short, but its arms were exceptionally thick. Its pair of curved horns had fractured gold stripes, making them look quite beautiful.

“Yes,” Baron Schultz said proudly. “That is the second Baron of the Schultz family, my great-great-grandfather. This painting depicts the heroic deed of my ancestor slaying a Goat-Headed Monster in the Gloomy Forest.”

“A Goat-Headed Monster? Not a Goatman?” Victor asked curiously.

“It is indeed a Goat-Headed Monster,” Clefton said, giving Baron Schultz a smug look. “Goatmen are much larger than this monster, and their horns are straight, while this monster’s horns are curved. The Goat-Headed Monster is a creature unique to the Gloomy Forest. They are timid by nature and never show themselves to humans. Apart from the one hunted by the Schultz family, no one has ever seen another. The horns of that Goat-Headed Monster are hard with beautiful patterns; they are currently stored in the treasury of our House Sorim. You are more than welcome to come to our House Sorim to view this curiosity.”

“Your Excellency Randell, our House Sorim eagerly awaits your visit. My father hopes to meet with you as soon as possible. What do you say? Shall we depart soon? In any case, Baron Schultz’s fief is not a neighbor of Viscount Briat’s Fief, nor will he be participating in our plan.”

Clefton’s words made Baron Schultz’s face turn ashen. Victor’s eyes flickered, and he said with a smile, “It’s a rare opportunity to be here in the Gloomy Forest, and I would love to admire the magical forest created by the Lord of Radiance. How about this: tomorrow, we’ll first go to Kasan Town for a short two-day stay, and then we’ll set off to visit your father.”

“Very well!” Clefton nodded and said to Baron Schultz with a smirk, “Baron, will you be accompanying us?”

According to the traditional etiquette of the nobility, a lord should not personally escort a passing noble. At most, he would dispatch his heir to accompany them as a sign of respect. However, he must personally accompany his own liege lord. Victor was of high status, but he was not Baron Schultz’s liege lord. Clefton, in contrast, could almost be considered his liege.

If Clefton hadn’t been there to stir up trouble, Baron Schultz would have been happy to continue accompanying Victor. But he really didn’t want to see Clefton’s smug face, and he was even less willing to bow his head to House Sorim.

“Your Excellency Randell, the affairs of my fief are demanding, and I cannot get away. Please forgive me for any neglect. I will arrange for Knight Kruser to accompany you to Kasan Town tomorrow. How does that sound?” Baron Schultz gave Victor a Knight’s salute.

Victor returned the salute with a nod and said, “I welcome any member of the Schultz family to be a guest in the Centaur Hills at any time. If your heir were to visit the Randell Fief, I would certainly spare no effort in my hospitality to repay your kindness.”

Baron Schultz was overjoyed and thanked him repeatedly. This invitation from Victor was enough for him to boast to his neighbors for quite some time.

Citing the need for rest, Victor ended the less-than-harmonious gathering. After returning to his room, the Elina sisters noticed Victor’s dark expression and obediently began to massage him to help him relax.

Victor did indeed have a headache. He had taken a long detour, visiting seven families, with the main purpose of exploring the ruins of the Alchemical Empire in the Gloomy Forest. But ever since Judy returned to Wildwillow City, Victor found himself constantly surrounded by all sorts of people.

Upon arriving in Baron Schultz’s fief, Marquess Sorim had sent his second son, Clefton, to greet his carriage directly. What was most troublesome was that along the entire journey, the Church, fearing that Victor might be poisoned, had the local head priest accompany him in every fief he visited. Bishop Saen was also worried that House Sorim couldn’t guarantee Victor’s safety, so he had arranged for an Adjudicator to serve as Victor’s guard.

An Adjudicator was no ordinary figure. It was said that three Adjudicators, with the support of a level four priest’s divine arts, could go toe-to-toe with a Pinnacle Knight. Adjudicators themselves possessed the combat power of a Silver Knight and had extremely keen senses. Under his strict protection, it would be very difficult for Victor to slip past his watch and sneak into the Gloomy Forest.

A moment later, Reno’s footsteps were heard outside the door. Victor gestured for the sisters to leave. Once they had left the room, Victor hurriedly asked Reno, “How did it go? Did you contact the people from Quicksilver?”

“Yes, my lord,” Reno said. “The Quicksilver operative stationed here is Monkey. He learned from the magistrate that Clefton is very fond of hunting. Also, he told me that the closest place in the Schultz fief to the Gloomy Forest is not Kasan Town, but Thorn Manor, which is the fief of Lord Lyrila Schultz.”

Victor had started planning his trip to the Gloomy Forest half a year ago. He had not only arranged for thirty Crouching Ox Militiamen, forty Lithe Ape militiamen, twenty-five Alchemical Warhounds, and forty alchemical crows to lie in wait in the Gloomy Forest, but he had also ordered Barol to leave some men behind in the Schultz fief.

After his caravan entered Redwood Town, Victor couldn’t get away, so he had to order Reno to contact the Quicksilver operative and see if they could come up with a plan. Victor hadn’t expected that the subordinate Barol had left in Redwood Town would be an old acquaintance, and that he had managed to get on good terms with the magistrate and uncover Clefton’s hobby in such a short time.

“Fond of hunting…”

Victor thought for a moment, then smiled. “I remember now. Bull sent me a message saying that some baron, in order to curry favor with Marquess Sorim’s second son, supported a mountain folk chief in establishing a hunting ground in the mountains. In the end, that person was taken out by the Warhammer Mercenary Company, which forced Iron Hammer and his people to flee into the Gloomy Forest. So, the one that baron was trying to curry favor with was Clefton!”

“Since he likes to hunt, we can use that as an excuse to go into the Gloomy Forest… The key is, what do we do about that Adjudicator and the knight from the Schultz family?”

Victor’s brows furrowed as he sank into deep thought.

Chapter 237: Saying Goodbye

The fields in the Season of Fire teemed with vibrant life. Upon the fertile land, dense thickets and endless stretches of greensage grass flourished, dotted with little flowers as numerous as the stars, transforming the plains into a magnificent, multicolored sea.

“Stone-eye flower, fire-silk flower, verdigrass… Dammit! Why is there so little blue-fay?”

Lucian straightened up, tossing the wildflowers and herbs in his hand into the wicker basket on his back. He wiped the sweat from his brow and rubbed his aching lower back. Even this breathtaking scenery couldn’t smooth the furrows on the young man’s brow. If he couldn’t gather enough blue-fay, he wouldn’t be able to win his cousin Lyrila’s favor. For Lucian, who was living under her roof, this meant failure.

Lucian was seventeen this year, the second son of a family headed by a lordship. Two years ago, as soon as he turned fifteen, his older brother, who had inherited the family estate, sent him to Thorn Manor as a potential suitor for his cousin, Lord Lyrila.

This was a common fate for the second sons of most declining noble families.

The meager income of a small house could not support too many children. The second sons and daughters, those besides the heir, had to find their own way. Some would be fostered by their family to an in-law’s house, becoming prospective partners for the children of that family. If they failed to successfully marry into the in-law’s family, they would be fated to a life of wandering. Therefore, these noble scions would do everything in their power to please their potential partners, even if it meant bending their own knees.

Lucian felt no humiliation in this. The first time he saw Lyrila, he was captivated by her beautiful, melancholic eyes. Lucian tried everything he could think of to win the fair lady’s heart, but all his efforts were in vain. The burden of her family weighed heavily on Lyrila’s frail shoulders; flowers, love poems, chess, and painting could not dispel her sorrow. Whenever he saw Lyrila casually set aside the fresh flowers he had picked before turning to check on a lambing ewe, a dull ache would throb in Lucian’s heart.

Lucian understood that only by helping Lyrila support this fief could he allow her to pause her ceaseless work and enjoy the finer things in life. He began to learn how to repair houses, grow vegetables, raise geese, harvest hay, care for livestock, and make wooden tools. His efforts earned him the respect of the subjects, but still failed to bring a smile to Lyrila’s face.

The lordship’s fief covered more than four hundred square kilometers. The land was fertile and the vegetation lush, but it was overgrown with low-lying thorntrees and greensage grass, leaving very little arable land. The fief’s main income depended on two logging camps near the Gloomy Forest.

The redwood from the Gloomy Forest was a high-quality timber, but the Schultz family had issued a rotational logging decree. For every section of forest a barony’s logging camp cleared, it had to cease operations for seven years to allow the redwood forest to recover. Lyrila’s two logging camps logged in rotation, meaning that for every ten years, they had to halt operations for four. The tribute for those four years had to be covered by the income from the six years of logging, leaving just enough to sustain the more than seven hundred subjects.

No matter how hard Lucian worked, he couldn’t change the fief’s dire circumstances. In Lyrila’s eyes, he was just one more subject, which was hardly a cause for relief. But Lucian was, after all, from a noble family, and he soon realized the problem. He began trying to find a new source of income for the manor, and he set his sights on the thorntree thickets.

The thorntrees stood a little taller than a man, with branches as thick as an arm. They were incredibly resilient, but their wood was brittle and good only for firewood. The bark could be made into hemp rope, and during the Season of Wind, it produced edible berries. The manor’s farmers knew the properties of the thorntree inside and out, but Lucian focused his energy on its beautiful yet useless flowers.

After constant exploration and experimentation, Lucian finally managed to create a brand-new dye from the wildflowers and herbs. When he hung the dyed linen cloth out to dry, the subjects clucked their tongues in amazement, and Lyrila’s face lit up with a look of delight.

Greatly encouraged, Lucian pressed on, trying to develop more colors and more colorfast plant-based dyes. Right now, he wanted to create the purple dye most beloved by noblewomen, and for that, he absolutely needed blue-fay.

The young man shouldered his wicker basket and trudged through the thorny thickets, one deep step after another. He decided to go a little further to see if he could find any blue-fay; he was desperate to see a smile on his cousin Lyrila’s face.

“Lucian! Lucian!”

A call echoed across the plains. A middle-aged man dressed as a farmer came running over, panting, and pulled Lucian back the way he came.

“Uncle Matt, what’s happened?” Lucian asked as he ran.

“Huff… huff…” the farmer gasped, saying between breaths, “Something big… The lord’s steward is here… brought lots of people… The Young Lady said you’re to go back immediately… There are distinguished guests coming to the manor… Hurry!”

Farmer Matt’s rambling account wasn’t very clear, but his excited expression let Lucian’s racing heart settle. It probably wasn’t bad news.

Running back to Thorn Manor at top speed left Lucian’s legs trembling with exhaustion. He was stunned to find the manor teeming with people. Not just familiar subjects, but also many well-dressed strangers. They were constantly carrying old furniture out of the lordship’s residence and unloading new furniture, gold candlesticks, silver tableware, red carpets, cashmere curtains, and oil paintings from carriages, then carrying them inside one by one.

“Let’s get inside quickly, the Young Lady is waiting for you.”

Matt lowered his voice, ushering Lucian toward the house, but they were stopped by two strangers.

“Who is he?”

An old man walked over. His steward’s uniform was impeccably starched and ironed, and his full head of silver hair was combed flawlessly, giving him a severe and old-fashioned air. Farmer Matt bowed and said with a placating smile, “Steward Fedro, my lord, this is the Young Lady’s cousin, Young Master Lucian. The Young Lady asked me to bring him inside.”

Steward Fedro’s suspicious eyes fell on the coarse linen tunic Lucian was wearing and the wicker basket at his waist. Lucian composed himself and performed a noble’s bow.

“I am Lucian Croc of House Croc. My father, Lord Sephus Croc, is Lord Lyrila Schultz’s maternal uncle. It is a pleasure to meet you, Steward Fedro.”

Lucian’s perfect bow eased the expression on Steward Fedro’s face. He returned the bow and said, “There is no need for you to bow to me, Young Master Croc. But your attire is unbecoming of your station…” Steward Fedro turned and ordered, “Someone! Take Young Master Croc to wash up and prepare a set of decent clothes for him.”

Two young, pretty handmaidens led Lucian into the lordship’s residence, while Farmer Matt was left outside.

The residence was a three-story earth-and-timber building with a large footprint and a very spacious interior. As Lucian stepped into the main house, he was shocked to find it completely transformed. The floor was covered with a red carpet, and finely carved redwood furniture had replaced the old pieces. Gold candlesticks stood in every corner of the great hall, filled with snow-white candles. The coarse linen curtains had been replaced with new cashmere ones, and the walls were now adorned with oil paintings and animal horns. Unfamiliar attendants were arranging silver tableware on a long wooden dining table. As for the servants Lucian knew, they were nowhere to be seen.

The luxurious and unfamiliar hall made Lucian a little uncomfortable. Before he could dwell on it, he was led by the handmaidens to the washroom.

This was the first time Lucian had been bathed under the care of young handmaidens. Throughout the process, his eyes darted about, and he didn’t know what to do with his hands and feet. After the whole ordeal, when Lucian walked out of the washroom, he had been transformed into a dashing young nobleman, though his handsome face was beet red.

Amidst the handmaidens’ soft laughter, Lucian ascended to the second floor in a state of embarrassment.

Arriving before Lyrila’s study, Lucian straightened the collar of his fine linen shirt. He couldn’t wait for Lyrila to see his new image.

Just as Lucian was about to knock, the voice of a strange man from within the study made his fingers freeze on the door.

“Lyla, Viscount Randell is staying the night at Thorn Manor. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for you! You must seize it! Viscount Randell is completely different from the nobles we know. He’s a true great personage! Do you know who accompanies him? The second son of House Sorim, Knight Clefton! The Church’s Adjudicator, Master Soroto! These are people we could only dream of meeting… I hear even Viscount Randell’s personal handmaiden is an apprentice knight!”

“Just one word from Viscount Randell! No, no, no, as long as he is satisfied with Thorn Manor, the lord will surely grant you another logging camp. Then you’ll have three logging camps for redwood in rotation…”

“But… James, what should I do?”

“First, do not be impolite! You must absolutely not be impolite… Who’s outside?!”

Lucian composed himself, his fingers rapping on the wooden door. “Cousin Lyrila, it’s me, Lucian.”

The door opened from the inside. Lucian’s eyes lit up. The Lyrila he saw was dressed in her finest attire. A red fine linen dress with a long blue sash perfectly complemented her fair skin. Her hair was coiled up in a bun, accentuating her graceful, long neck. A light touch of makeup softened the lines of her somewhat strong features, making her irresistibly charming. Her brown eyes shone with a joyful light.

Lucian knew it wasn’t because of him.

Sitting inside the room was a young man. The exquisite scale armor he wore and the longsword leaning against his chair identified him as an apprentice knight. On that basis alone, Lucian had to look up to him.

Lucian had heard from the villagers that Lyrila and her brother had a childhood friend, James, the second son of another lordship in the Schultz family. Lyrila was very fond of James, but he had no intention of marrying her. He was merely following a friend’s request to look after Lyrila as a sister. Yet Lyrila had remained unmarried to this day for his sake.

Reason told Lucian he should be grateful to James; otherwise, he never would have had the chance to pursue Lyrila. But seeing a radiance in his beloved’s eyes that had never been there before, Lucian still felt a deep animosity toward James.

“Cousin Lyrila, you wished to see me?” Lucian lowered his head, hiding his anger and resentment deep in his eyes.

Lyrila didn’t answer Lucian, instead turning to James to introduce him. “This is my uncle’s son, Lucian Croc.”

“Oh,” James said, walking forward with interest and looking Lucian up and down. “So you’re Lucian? Lyla’s marriage prospect?”

Lucian’s opinion of James immediately soared. He said gratefully, “Good day, Knight James. I have heard of your reputation. It is my honor to meet you.”

“That’s enough,” Lyrila said, rolling her eyes at James. She then said to Lucian, “Lucian, we have a distinguished guest. You must not be impolite. Go review all the etiquette with Steward Fedro. Also, you’ll have to give up your room. You’ll stay at Uncle Matt’s tonight.”

“Yes, Cousin Lyrila. I’ll go find Steward Fedro right away,” Lucian said seriously. He nodded to James and turned to leave.

“Wait!”

James stopped Lucian and asked sternly, “What’s wrong with your hands?”

Lucian looked at the multicolored stains on his fingers and said helplessly, “It’s not dirt, it’s dye. It won’t wash off.”

“Is that so…” James stroked his chin and shook his head. “Family members must meet the guests; that is basic etiquette. But your hands don’t look clean… When you see Fedro, have him prepare a pair of white gloves for you.”

Lucian nodded and took his leave. As he walked down the stairs, he faintly heard the conversation between James and Lyrila.

“This kid isn’t bad! When are you two getting married? Your brother is always nagging about it.”

“What are you talking about? I… I just see him as a younger brother…”

“No! He’s a man. I can tell… You…”

At that moment, Lucian’s heart turned to ash.

The tearing pain left Lucian in a daze. He didn’t come to his senses even after sitting down at the dining table. But Lucian was sure that he had not been impolite in the slightest; his etiquette was instinctive, utterly flawless. As for Viscount Randell and the great personages beside him, Lucian had no impression of them at all.

The brilliant candlelight lit the hall as if it were day. The long table was laden with delicacies: a leg of lamb roasted to a golden brown and sprinkled with spices, fragrant red mushroom-topped goose, a roasted salmon over a meter long, and an assortment of choice fruits. Of course, there was also the most popular “showpiece dish”: a cooked eagle. The chef had re-covered its body with its feathers and inserted an iron rod so it could stand on the plate with its wings spread. The eagle’s beak was stuffed with wool and amber; when lit, it could “breathe fire as it flew to the table.”

When the “showpiece dish” was served, the banquet reached its climax. The hosts and guests were no longer busy eating and began to chat warmly amongst themselves.

“Miss Schultz, are you and your cousin the only members of your family here?” Viscount Randell asked with a smile, setting down his golden goblet.

“My lord Randell, you may call me by my name, Lyrila,” she said, striving to maintain her most elegant posture. “I have an older brother, three sisters, and a younger brother. After my brother awakened his Aura, he renounced his status as heir. He now serves House Sorim and took my younger brother with him. My sisters are all married. Thus, I inherited the title of lordship.”

“Oh?!” Clefton Sorim asked in surprise. “Miss Lyrila, what is your brother’s name?”

“Rusa Schultz. No, he is called Rusa Sorim now.”

“So it’s Rusa. I know him. He’s a magistrate in our House Sorim. Rusa is a naturally awakened apprentice knight. He’s twenty-six this year and has already resonated with ten Elemental Nodes, just two shy of advancing to a Knight. I have high hopes for Rusa.” As he spoke, Clefton glanced contemptuously at Knight Kruser Schultz.

As expected, Kruser and his apprentice knights all looked grim. James cursed inwardly. The knights and apprentice knights of the Schultz family had all relied on potions to advance. It was because of Rusa’s defection to House Sorim that Baron Schultz had taken back one of Thorn Manor’s three logging camps, plunging Lyrila into her current predicament. If this situation continued, Lyrila’s title and fief would be reclaimed by the Baron for failure to pay tribute.

James wanted to help Lyrila, but his own power was meager. Thorn Manor’s ability to maintain its current state was entirely due to the standing of his tutor, Kruser. Clefton’s insult to Kruser was tantamount to pushing Lyrila to a dead end.

Lyla, the only one who can help you now is Lord Randell! James sighed in his heart.

“Miss Lyrila, I noticed that the farmers of Thorn Manor wear brightly colored clothes, which is not something you see elsewhere. I’m very curious about it, could you tell me more?” Viscount Randell asked gently.

Lyrila explained, “My lord Randell, we created dyes from wild herbs and flowers. To test if the dyes would fade, most people’s clothes have been dyed.”

“Using plants for dye, whose invention is that?” Viscount Randell asked, his interest piqued.

“It was my cousin, Lucian.”

James gently kicked Lucian under the table. Lucian snapped back to his senses and was startled to find everyone looking at him.

“Lucian, did you invent the plant-based dyes? Did you study at the Spire?” Viscount Randell asked softly.

Lucian quickly replied, “My lord Randell, I did invent the plant-based dyes, but I have not been to the Spire. I… I figured it out on my own.”

Viscount Randell nodded, then said suddenly, “Lucian, I notice you are wearing gloves. May I see your hands?”

Lucian hesitated. He had planned to make an excuse about an injury as Steward Fedro had instructed, but thinking of how Lyrila had never considered him a future partner, a wave of self-abandonment washed over him. He decisively removed his gloves.

They were a pair of rough hands, the fingers stained with blocks of red and green from the dyes, looking particularly jarring under the bright candlelight. Lyrila looked flustered, but her eyes held a trace of emotion. Lucian didn’t notice this.

“Diligence is a virtue. You need not hide it, child.”

The speaker was the middle-aged man sitting opposite Viscount Randell. Lucian remembered he was the Church’s Adjudicator, Master Soroto. Lucian cast a grateful look at Master Soroto, who nodded back at him in encouragement.

“I now believe you invented the plant-based dyes. This is a remarkable achievement.” Viscount Randell nodded, and said in a louder voice, “Everyone, the dyes we use now are mineral dyes, primarily red, blue, and black. Yellow mineral dyes are very rare and especially precious. Lucian’s plant-based dyes include a yellow one, so his invention is very valuable.”

“Lucian, I admire your talent and diligence. Are you willing to follow me to the Randell Fief? There, I guarantee you can put your talents to full use. Alternatively, name your price, and sell the formula to me.”

Everyone was envious of Lucian’s luck. The Viscount’s appreciation was a life-changing opportunity for this noble scion living under another’s roof. The Centaur Hills didn’t even recruit knights from outside, but now, if Lucian just nodded, he could live a comfortable life there, and perhaps even secure a future for himself.

He will definitely leave! This place is too poor, even my brother wasn’t willing to stay…

At this moment, Lyrila’s heart felt as if it were being torn by the fangs of a wild beast, convulsing with sharp pains. Her irresponsible brother had defected to House Sorim, leaving her to struggle to support the entire fief. She longed for someone to lean on, and Lucian had been silently supporting her all this time, yet she had never taken his efforts to heart. Only now, at the moment of loss, did Lyrila realize that Lucian had long since walked into her heart.

“Lucian, hurry and thank Lord Randell!” Lyrila said, holding back her inner torment and forcing a smile for Lucian.

Lucian was silent for a moment. He lifted his head to look directly into Viscount Randell’s eyes and said, “Venerable lord, I am willing to give you the formula, but may I make one request?”

“Let’s hear it.”

“I want a cleansing potion.” Lucian’s voice trembled with nervousness, but it was also very firm.

“You want to become an apprentice knight? You don’t plan to achieve something in the field of invention and creation?”

Viscount Randell’s brows furrowed. His voice was as gentle as ever, but it placed great pressure on Lucian. He took a deep breath and said loudly, “I want to win an opportunity for my cousin Lyrila. This fief has only two logging camps, and it’s covered in useless thorntrees. Cousin Lyrila has worked too hard to support this place. If she becomes an apprentice knight, she can at least take a position under the lord, earn a stipend, and improve the lives of her subjects.”

Tears streamed uncontrollably down Lyrila’s face. She covered her mouth to stifle her sobs, but her trembling shoulders were visible to all.

The emotion between the two did not move the guests at the table. In the end, they were just lowly minor nobles. Even Master Soroto was expressionless at this moment.

Viscount Randell tapped his fingers on the table and smiled. “I am full. Master Soroto, do you wish to continue dining?”

“There is no need, but please give this food to those who need it,” Soroto said faintly.

Steward Fedro bowed slightly, and the well-trained attendants quickly cleared the food from the table. No one asked for Lyrila’s opinion, not that she cared. She was enveloped in immense happiness, but Steward Fedro was standing right behind her. Although the lord’s steward’s respectful attitude was impeccable, Lyrila still felt a cold aura from him.

Things have been ruined! How would she face the lord’s reprimand later? Lyrila couldn’t help but feel a wave of powerless bitterness.

“I think you’ve misunderstood.”

Viscount Randell had not left the table. He took a goose-yellow silk handkerchief from his personal handmaiden, placed it on the table, and said, “House Randell already invented plant-based dyes long ago. As everyone knows, our House of Randell invented Snow Sugar, coffee, Purple Cane wine, raw sugar, the method for raising ground lizards, the method for cultivating ground-potatoes, and of course, plant-based dyes, and even more inventions. These were not invented by me, but were the creations of the family’s subjects. Influenced by Master Edwen, I place great importance on the wisdom of my subjects, and their inventions are always rewarded by me. Therefore, what I value is your ability. I am willing to encourage your creativity, not to get a dye formula!”

Lucian’s face turned pale. Everyone shook their heads and sighed, lamenting that the young man had missed a precious opportunity. But Viscount Randell continued, “You say this fief is impoverished because of the thorntrees. In my eyes, they are a priceless treasure!”

“Miss Lyrila, do your subjects know how to make charcoal?”

The light that had just appeared in Lyrila’s eyes dimmed again. She said in a low voice, “They do. But the price of charcoal is low, and the profit from selling it isn’t even enough to cover the transport costs. If the price is too high, it won’t sell, because every family’s fief has its own wild thickets.”

Viscount Randell smiled and said, “If you transport the charcoal you make to Wildwillow City, you can exchange it for green bricks. For every five cartloads of charcoal, you can exchange for three cartloads of third-grade bricks, or two cartloads of second-grade bricks, or one cartload of first-grade bricks. Right now, the price of third-grade bricks is fifteen for one Copper Sol, second-grade bricks are eight for one Copper Sol, and first-grade bricks are three for one Copper Sol. You can take these bricks and set your own price for them. As long as you don’t run out of thorntrees, you can keep exchanging for green bricks. That is my promise!”

“Thank you so much, esteemed Lord Randell,” Lyrila said, standing up excitedly. She then added with some difficulty, “But I don’t have enough carts.”

“You don’t have carts, but others do. I have always believed that monopolizing all the benefits is an undesirable practice. Only by letting more people profit can there be sustainable development.” Viscount Randell smiled at the Schultz family knight. “Sir Kruser, what do you think?”

Kruser shook his head with a wry smile and said, “Alright, I will handle the transportation, but I’ll take sixty percent of the green bricks, and thirty percent of that is for the lord. Lyrila, what do you say?”

“I completely agree!” Lyrila lifted the hem of her skirt and curtsied to Kruser, saying sincerely, “Thank you, Uncle Kruser.”

Lord Randell was not angry, and Fedro secretly breathed a sigh of relief. He shot a discreet glance at the smiling Lucian, determined to get this ungrateful brat thrown out of the Baron’s demesne. The prosperity of Thorn Manor was just around the corner; perhaps he could arrange a match between his own boy and Lyrila.

Just then, Viscount Randell clapped his hands. His guard produced two exquisite leather cases from his pocket. Inside each case were ten crystal vials, neatly arranged. The emerald-green potion glowed dazzlingly under the candlelight. The eyes of the Schultz family’s apprentice knights went wide. These were all cleansing potions!

“This is a cleansing potion,” Viscount Randell said to Lucian. “These potions were a gift to me from Grand Duke Williams. They are all royal-grade potions. An ordinary cleansing potion is worth two thousand Gold Sols per vial. A royal potion is worth three thousand Gold Sols.”

Lucian tore his gaze away from the cleansing potions with difficulty. Only now did he realize how reckless he had been. His formula was nowhere near worth two thousand Gold Sols.

Viscount Randell shook his head and sighed, “One cleansing potion does not necessarily make an apprentice knight, but each noble can use a maximum of ten cleansing potions.”

“Venerable lord, I offer you my sincerest apologies for my ignorance,” Lucian said, bowing deeply, his head lowered in shame.

“Lucian, your sincere feelings for Miss Lyrila have moved me. I am willing to give each of you a chance, a chance to become an apprentice knight. You may use these potions as you wish. As for whether you can become apprentice knights, that will be up to the will of the Most High.”

Lucian and Lyrila could hardly believe their ears. Everyone present was moved by Viscount Randell’s magnificent gift—this was sixty thousand Gold Sols’ worth of cleansing potions! Even Master Soroto gave Viscount Randell a long, deep look.

“Cleansing potions are extremely precious, and after taking one, you will fall into a stupor for a day. To be honest, these potions could bring you disaster. To ensure your safety, I will stay at Thorn Manor for a maximum of ten days.”

Lucian and Lyrila were so happy they wept. He said excitedly, “My… my lord… how can I ever repay your kindness?”

Viscount Randell smiled and said, “The sooner you two advance, the sooner I can pay a visit to Marquis Sorim. You can go take the potions now. These potions will be temporarily kept by my guards. If there are any left over, I will be taking the remainder with me.”

Lyrila and Lucian bowed to Viscount Randell again. They each took a vial of the potion and walked hand in hand toward the second floor.

With the hosts gone, the banquet ended. The guests took their leave one by one, until only Viscount Randell and Knight Clefton remained in the hall.

Clefton shook his head and said, “Your Excellency Randell, I’m afraid this will cause quite a delay.”

“Indeed, it will delay us for some time,” Viscount Randell nodded and said apologetically, “Why don’t we use this time to go hunting in the Gloomy Forest for some recreation?”

“Excellent! I’ve been wanting to hunt in the Gloomy Forest for a long time,” Clefton exclaimed in pleasant surprise. Realizing his lack of composure, he added, “Your Excellency Randell, you are truly generous. The feelings between Miss Lyrila and Lucian moved you to change their fates.”

Viscount Randell said in a light tone, “I’m doing this to make up for the regrets of Baron Victor Wimbledon! I can finally say goodbye to the past now!”

Chapter 238: The Strange Forest

The Gloomy Forest was filled with trees that had been growing for hundreds, even thousands, of years. The light here was dim, with the sun managing only to cast a few stingy flecks of light on the ground through the dense canopy.

Due to the lack of sunlight, there were no shrubs on the forest floor. Instead, decaying branches, fallen leaves, and fungi of all sorts covered the ground, obscuring any hint of the soil’s color.

For millennia, humanity’s attempts to explore the Gloomy Forest had never ceased, yet any expedition that ventured deep into the woods rarely returned safely. This wasn’t because of the monstrous beastmen or the endless parade of venomous insects and fierce beasts, but because the gloomy, cold, damp, and decaying environment, combined with the monotonous landscape of giant trees, caused explorers to lose their way home, ultimately becoming lost in the endless sea of trees.

Over time, this sprawling forest became a forbidden zone for humans and a paradise for wildlife.

The edges of the Gloomy Forest were home to a large number of wild boars, forest deer, white-headed apes, iguanas, anteaters, snake-badgers, dholes, spotted lynxes, and moon-bladed leopards, as well as a variety of birds, including many ferocious species. Of course, it was also crawling with stubbornly tenacious beastmen monsters like Gnolls, Goblins, and Kobolds. However, the most feared creatures were the venomous insects hidden beneath the fallen leaves. No one knew where they might emerge from to deliver a vicious, fatal strike.

A party of about ten people moved through the forest. They were clad in leather hunting attire, carrying bows, crossbows, and arrows. The slight crunch of their high, sturdy leather boots on the dead branches sounded exceptionally jarring in the quiet forest. Timid and cautious forest deer veered away from the group from a great distance, and the white-headed apes that loved to perch in the canopy and mock hunters were nowhere to be seen.

Whirr! A great flapping of wings sounded from above.

A young hunter reacted swiftly. He raised a hand, signaling the party to halt, and silently drew an arrow, nocking it on his bowstring.

The dense foliage obscured the hunter’s vision; the canopy was a sea of dark green, revealing nothing. However, as the large bird folded its wings and landed on a treetop, the young hunter, guided by the sound, dashed forward two steps, leaped high, and shot his arrow into the dim canopy.

With the crackle of breaking branches, a shower of leaves fell from the air. The large bird, however, was caught on a thicker bough and did not fall.

Another agile hunter scrambled up the twenty-meter-high tree in a few quick movements. When he slid back down, he was carrying a large, green-feathered bird.

The young hunter took the prey from his companion’s hands, his face lit with joy. “A green-feathered heron! A rare delicacy.” Then he called out to the party, “Victor, you let me have that one.”

Victor shrugged. “Clefton, I didn’t help you this time.”

Clefton laughed heartily and walked over to Victor’s side, speaking warmly. “Victor, it’s thanks to you that I learned to shoot blind. I never imagined I could kill prey just by listening.”

This was no empty praise. On this hunt, Victor had rarely acted, but every time he did, he hit his mark. In the dim light, even a Knight would struggle to lock onto prey hidden in the foliage, yet nothing could escape Victor’s arrows. Victor had shot down several of the nimble and noisy white-headed apes, which was why they were now keeping their distance. Otherwise, the hunt would have ended in failure long ago.

Victor smiled slightly but said nothing. He could use his hearing to lock onto a target within three hundred meters in a noisy, dark environment; even a mouse hidden in a hole could not escape his Perception. This was not only due to his Bloodline talent—the powerful discriminating capabilities of X-3 were also a crucial factor. This miraculous archery skill had piqued Clefton’s interest, and under Victor’s guidance, he constantly practiced the technique of shooting blind.

Following Victor’s lead, the hunting party had ventured deeper and deeper, trekking through the Gloomy Forest for three days without realizing it, drawing ever closer to Victor’s destination.

“Victor, we’ve been out for three days. We should head back. I don’t want the Schultz family knights to have to come charging in here looking for us. It would be bad if they got lost in the forest,” Clefton said, tossing his prey to his retainer knight while suggesting they return.

Clefton loved to hunt, and hunting had brought him and Victor closer, but he had not forgotten his mission. If it weren’t for his desire to learn to shoot blind, they would have returned to Thorn Manor as agreed.

“It is indeed time to go back,” Victor nodded and said, “Let’s return to camp first, pack up, eat something, and then set off.” Victor then turned to the empty-handed Adjudicator and asked, “Master Soroto, what is your opinion?”

“As you wish,” Soroto said noncommittally.

With the three leaders in agreement, the party turned around and headed back.

Half an hour later, the party arrived at their pre-established camp. A dozen or so people who had stayed behind were already there. They had started a campfire and were busy processing the various game.

Clefton walked over to the campfire and complained, “The Gloomy Forest is just too damp. If we hadn’t prepared Oilwood in advance, even starting a fire would have been a hassle. It’s only been three days, but I feel like I’m growing mushrooms all over.”

“I, on the other hand, quite like it here,” Victor murmured.

The camp was filled with the smell of decay, yet Victor still took a deep breath. From the moment he had stepped into this forest, Victor found his Perception had become exceptionally sharp, and his mood was joyful and calm. He could even feel a faint thrumming in his Bloodline, a sensation that grew stronger the deeper he went into the Gloomy Forest.

“It’s related to your Moon Elf bloodline,” said the Adjudicator Soroto as he walked over, carrying two tree iguanas. “Elves are children of nature. Places with a strong aura of Life can easily cause an elven bloodline to resonate. In the Gloomy Forest, have you noticed that your dim vision is much stronger than elsewhere?”

Seeing Victor’s surprised frown, Soroto said coolly, “Don’t be surprised. I spent seven years studying at the Ivory Fortress Monastery. The knowledge collected there is in no way inferior to the Silver Spire’s.”

“Master, you came from Ivory Fortress? That’s the birthplace of the Silver Spire.” Clefton was filled with awe.

The Ivory Fortress Monastery was the foremost of the Church’s three great monasteries. Only the most elite of the clergy were qualified to study there. Rumor had it that its collection of knowledge and secrets was incalculable, including many texts from the Era of the Chosen. Arya, the founder of the Silver Spire, had by a twist of fate lived at Ivory Fortress for a long time, which was why it was considered the birthplace of the Silver Spire.

Since Soroto had studied at Ivory Fortress, it was no surprise that he knew about the dim vision of Moon Elves. Victor nodded. “It’s enhanced by ten percent.”

“Master, I’ve never had this feeling in the forests of the Centaur Hills. Is the aura of nature in the Gloomy Forest stronger than in other forests?” Victor couldn’t help but press.

“Not the aura of nature, the aura of Life. Or, to be precise, the void water element. But I am not a Knight, so I cannot directly sense changes in the void element,” Soroto corrected Victor’s wording and looked at Clefton.

Clefton waved his hands frantically. “Don’t look at me. I’m not a Great Knight who can communicate with both the internal and external. I can’t sense the external void element either.”

“None of us can sense the void water element, but many details confirm that this forest is very strange.” Soroto nodded, tossing the two tree iguanas beside the campfire. “Have you noticed anything different about these two tree iguanas?”

“One is big, one is small. One male, one female. Judging by the patterns on their tails, the big one is two years old, and the small one is four.” Clefton frowned, grabbing the two iguanas to examine them closely. He suddenly leaped up and shouted, “This isn’t right! This is illogical!”

“What’s wrong?” Victor asked, utterly bewildered.

“Victor, the longer a tree iguana lives, the bigger it gets. And female iguanas are much larger than males,” Clefton explained. “But these two are the exact opposite.” Gesturing to the 1.1-meter-long male iguana, he shook his head in amazement. “Honestly, I’ve never seen a male iguana this big.”

Soroto picked up the thread. “The smaller female was caught at yesterday’s campsite. This large male was caught at this camp. In other words, the deeper we go into the forest, the faster the iguanas grow, and the larger they become. This indicates that the void water element in the Gloomy Forest is extremely unevenly distributed. This is by no means a normal phenomenon!”

“Come look at this,” Soroto said, walking to a giant tree next to the camp. He pointed to a cross-shaped scratch on the trunk. “This is the mark we left on the trunk. In just one day, it has already grown like this.”

Victor saw that the edges of the cross-shaped scratch on the trunk were much finer than the day before; the bark around the scratch was clearly healing.

“At this rate of healing, the bark will show no trace of the mark in five days at most, not even a scar. No wonder knight squads have been lost in the Gloomy Forest,” Victor said with a nod.

“Let’s get out of this damn place,” Clefton said hastily.

“No need to worry. The strange phenomena of the Gloomy Forest have long been documented. I was merely verifying them myself,” Soroto said with a smile. “With a Wind Walk Archer here, we couldn’t get lost even if we tried.”

“That’s true,” Clefton said, breathing a sigh of relief. He turned and shouted to the men in the camp, “Call back all the sentries on the perimeter! Do a headcount. We’re heading back shortly.”

When Victor and Clefton had proposed to hunt in the Gloomy Forest, they had met with strong opposition from Knight Kruser Schultz. Knight Kruser told Victor that the Gloomy Forest was as treacherous and unpredictable as a labyrinth, making it difficult for humans to navigate, and that entering it rashly was an extremely dangerous act. Victor, however, said they would only hunt on the forest’s edge and would certainly not get lost. He then climbed to the top of a twenty-meter-high tree and stood effortlessly on a thin branch. Knight Kruser was immediately rendered speechless.

A Wind Walk Archer with extraordinary vision could determine a straight path just by looking out from the canopy; it was impossible for them to get lost in the sea of trees. Kruser was even convinced that with Victor around, they would be perfectly capable of exploring the core of the Gloomy Forest. Kruser had originally intended to join the hunting party himself but was shot down by a single sentence from Clefton.

Clefton had said that the Gloomy Forest was not Baron Schultz’s territory and that hunting was not war, so why bring so many people? In the end, it was Victor who smoothed things over. He had Kruser and his soldiers station themselves at the forest’s edge, so that if the hunting party encountered an emergency, he could provide timely support. After a moment’s thought, Kruser agreed, though Victor believed it was because he trusted in the strength of the Adjudicator, Master Soroto.

Ultimately, Clefton leading four apprentice knights and five elite soldiers, and Victor leading Reno and nineteen Alchemical Militia, plus Master Soroto, formed a hunting party of thirty-two. They had agreed to return to Thorn Manor within three days. As for Elina, her sister, One-Eyed Dragon Gru, and Shak, along with the remaining guards, Victor had left them at Thorn Manor.

Over the three days, the hunting party had caught a lot of game, and processing it was a tedious task. The Alchemical Militia tied up the pelts, roasted jerky, buried the entrails, selected beautiful feathers, and even prepared the heads of a few animals that Clefton had specifically requested as trophies to be mounted.

The Alchemical Militia’s methods for processing game were skilled and meticulous, but not particularly fast. After working for an hour, everything was finally in order. It was then that a very faint sound came from the depths of the forest.

They’re here!

Victor’s heart leaped with joy, but his face showed a look of vigilance. “There’s something moving! It’s coming this way!”

Soroto was on his feet in an instant. His ears twitched, and he frowned. “It’s fast! Everyone, on your guard!”

“It sounds like a running wolf,” Clefton said a moment later, having also heard the sound from the dense woods. He laughed. “To think, prey is serving itself up to us right before we leave. Bring me my hunting bow. I’ll take a shot with my eyes closed. If I miss, it’s their lucky day.”

Clefton closed his eyes, drew his bow, and aimed the arrow in the direction of the sound. The noise of paws trampling dry branches grew louder and louder until it was clearly audible. The moment the beast entered the bow’s range, Clefton let the arrow fly.

He didn’t hear the expected howl of pain or the thud of an arrow piercing flesh. Clefton sighed, opened his eyes, and his pupils instantly shrank to the size of pinpricks.

“A dire wolf!”

Chapter 239: Goblin Frenzy

The dim light made it difficult to discern the beast’s fur color, but its body, twice the size of a common wolf, the fangs protruding from its snout, and its soul-stealing, green-glowing eyes all marked it as something other than an ordinary animal.

“This is my greatest catch of the year!” Clefton excitedly drew his Adamantine longsword, flourishing it with a beautiful flick of the wrist.

“Wait! What’s that in its mouth?”

The dire wolf was clamping down on a humanoid creature about one and a half meters tall. Its limbs were still twitching—it was clearly not quite dead yet.

“It’s a Goblin!” Soroto recognized the creature in the wolf’s mouth, and a flicker of doubt crossed his mind.

A wolf’s sense of smell was exceptionally sharp, and the instincts of a dire animal allowed them to evade danger in advance. Why would this dire wolf charge straight in here to its death?

Before Soroto had time to think, the dire wolf released its jaws, leaving its prey on the ground before turning to flee into the woods to the side. It vanished into the trees in the blink of an eye.

“That cunning beast,” Clefton muttered, sheathing his longsword. He had no way of chasing down a dire wolf in the dim environment.

Soroto walked over, turned the dying Goblin over, and said gravely, “This is a Hobgoblin! That damned dire wolf!”

“What do you mean?” Clefton asked, confused.

“I mean we need to run for our lives!” Victor sighed faintly, then shouted, “Everyone arm yourselves! Drop all your spoils! We’re running out of here, now!”

The realization dawned on Clefton instantly. He yelled, “Quick! Quick! Get moving first, we’ll see what happens! If it’s just a small tribe of Goblins chasing us, we’ll wipe them out!”

The hunting party immediately charged toward the outer edge of the forest. Victor shouted as he ran, “Forget about wiping them out! From what I can hear, there’s a huge horde! That dire wolf led them here on purpose!”

“That cunning beast! Everyone, run! We’ll be safe once we shake them off!” Clefton shouted through gritted teeth.

“We won’t be able to shake them! That dire wolf is definitely shadowing us!”

Soroto shattered everyone’s wishful thinking. They had no choice but to maintain formation and run for their lives.

After running for half an hour, the roars of Bugbears rose and fell behind them. A short while later, the burly figures of Bugbears appeared behind the party.

“Forty-one Bugbears! I’m afraid people are going to die.” Soroto shook his head, stopped, and said flatly, “Let’s kill them all.”

Clefton’s face changed dramatically. Bugbears had thick hides and flesh, were fearless in the face of death, and possessed immense strength. But their most terrifying trait was their monstrous stamina. A Bugbear had enough stamina to wear out a Knight, to say nothing of apprentice knights and ordinary elite soldiers. If they kept running like this, Clefton himself would be hard-pressed to escape. Victor’s stamina was only that of an ordinary person. Rather than all being run to death, it was better to turn and fight.

The hunting party consisted of a Silver Archer, an Adjudicator, a Knight, four apprentice knights, and twenty-five elite soldiers. Wiping out these Bugbears wasn’t an impossible task, but many would surely die.

Clefton could be indifferent to the lives of common soldiers, but the four apprentice knights were the backbone of House Sorim. The thought of losing them in the Gloomy Forest made Clefton’s face twist. However, Victor’s safety and his own were more important. For now, the apprentice knights would have to trust to their own luck.

“Form up! Engage the enemy!”

Clefton’s squad of knights reacted swiftly, but the Alchemical militia remained unmoved.

“You will temporarily obey Knight Clefton’s command,” Victor said to Reno.

Clefton shot Victor a grateful look. He truly needed Victor’s soldiers to serve as cannon fodder.

“Victor, you support me from the trees. The rest of you, defend the rear and don’t make any rash moves! I’ll go first,” Soroto said calmly, pulling on his Adamantine Gauntlets.

Victor nodded. With a dyed Dual-Silver shortbow and two quivers of arrows on his back, a light breeze enveloped his body, and in an instant, he was perched on a high branch. From there, he saw the Adjudicator charge alone toward the pursuing Bugbears.

Soroto moved like a bolt of lightning. He raised his fist and smashed it into a Bugbear’s head. A dull boom echoed through the air as the thick, sturdy Bugbear was sent flying. With a thud, it crashed heavily against a tree trunk several meters away. The massive tree, which would take three men to encircle, shook violently as the Bugbear slid down the trunk.

That punch was like a thunderbolt, utterly unstoppable.

The other Bugbears roared and charged at Soroto. His figure flickered unpredictably, always narrowly dodging the Bugbears’ attacks. And with every punch he threw, every kick he landed, a Bugbear would be sent tumbling several meters away.

The booming in the air melded into a continuous roll of thunder. Bugbears were sent sprawling, tumbling over one another in a chaotic mess. The Adjudicator stood proudly in their midst, an image of unparalleled might!

Physique 10, Spirit 17, Perception 10, Life 6. These were Soroto’s elemental attributes. There was no platinum-gold light flashing around his body; Victor was certain the Adjudicator was not using divine arts. Aside from his superhuman Spirit attribute, his Physique and Perception were only at the level of an elite soldier.

There was only one possibility! Soroto’s martial skill had reached the highest realm of the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form!

A strike that sends a man flying like a work of art, a finger-flick that creates startling thunder!

Although the Adjudicator was stunningly powerful, the Bugbears he sent flying were able to crawl back up quickly. Then, as if they were uninjured, they charged Soroto again. Victor even saw the first Bugbear that was sent flying shake its head, spin in place a few times, and then charge at Soroto with a furious roar, even though its nose had been smashed to a pulp!

Physique 18, Spirit 3, Perception 14, Life 25. The Bugbears’ elemental attributes made Victor shake his head repeatedly. Their 18 points in the earth attribute granted them tough bodies, while 25 points in the water element gave them monstrous stamina and regenerative abilities. They were practically unkillable cockroaches—at least, their resistance to blunt force trauma was exceptionally high.

Victor raised his bow and let fly an arrow. The sharp arrowhead buried itself deep in a Bugbear’s eye. Although he had orchestrated this Goblin Frenzy, he had no intention of getting Soroto and the House Sorim soldiers killed. However, the Bugbear that should have had its brain pierced and fallen dead to the ground let out a blood-curdling shriek, struggled to pull the arrow from its socket, and lunged at Soroto with even greater ferocity.

Victor’s expression darkened. He fired another arrow, this time using Wind Walk. The arrow, enveloped in a light breeze, possessed power rivaling that of a military heavy crossbow. In a flash, it shot through the Bugbear’s other eye and exited from the back of its head. To Victor’s horror, the blinded Bugbear roared and clawed at the arrow. The barb on the arrowhead made it give up its efforts to pull it out, and it charged back into the fray with an arrow sticking straight through its head.

“Victor, don’t use Wind Walk. Conserve your stamina,” Soroto shouted, effortlessly slapping away a Bugbear.

From below the tree, Clefton said, “Victor, monsters like Bugbears have no obvious weaknesses. Their brains are only the size of a walnut, and their skulls, which are only as big as a woman’s fist, are three centimeters thick and harder than refined iron. Their eyes are connected to the brain by a tendon, so you only shot through the muscles in their heads.”

“What about the heart?” Victor asked.

“A Bugbear’s rib cage is a single solid piece, with all its vital organs inside. It has two hearts, which is why we can’t see the pulse of a Bugbear’s heart with the naked eye.”

“So we’re just going to stand here and watch?” Victor said, annoyed.

“Of course not. Haven’t you noticed Master Soroto is luring the Bugbears together?”

Only then did Victor realize that every Bugbear Soroto sent flying drew the attention of more Bugbears, forcing them into the fray, while Soroto’s footwork was like a fish in water, always managing to run circles around them.

“Here it comes!” Clefton’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Just then, Soroto grabbed a Bugbear’s arm and flung it backwards! The Bugbear flailed in mid-air, and just as it was about to land among the soldiers’ formation, a flash of purplish-gold sword light flared. The Bugbear was cleaved in two in mid-air. Amidst a shower of blood and gore, Clefton stood with a cold expression, sword in hand.

Where there was one, there would be a second. In the span of fifteen minutes, a total of seven Bugbears died under the combined efforts of the Adjudicator and the Knight.

Do they have to be so fierce?

Victor shook his head. A greater commotion was coming from the woods. The Goblin tribe was pouring out in full force!

“Let’s go!” Clefton said resolutely, stepping forward.

A tribe with forty Bugbears would have at least one thousand regular Goblins and three to five Hobgoblins. A single Goblin was insignificant, but under the leadership of Hobgoblins, their combat effectiveness would multiply. They could also use simple weapons and slings. Defeating this Goblin tribe without any casualties was practically impossible. The only way to minimize losses now was to eliminate as many Bugbears as possible.

A ghostly figure appeared silently beside Soroto. Two streams of blue light drew perfect arcs, and the heads of four Bugbears flew high into the air. The stunning blue light flashed again and again, and another four Bugbears were sliced in half. In an instant, all the Bugbears near Soroto were dead!

It was Victor!

Clefton’s eyes went wide, and the hand holding his sword trembled slightly. The Bugbears’ tough bodies were as soft as cream under Victor’s blades. But that was far from all. Victor swung his swords twice in a feint, and blue light erupted from the blades, forming two semi-circular crescent blades that shot through the chests of two Bugbears before dissipating into wisps of blue electricity in the air. The two charging Bugbears each let out a mournful cry and collapsed, twitching on the ground. The edges of the holes in their chests were scorched black, with fine arcs of electricity still dancing upon them.

Azure Blade!

“Go, quickly! I can’t hold on for much longer!”

Victor pulled a somewhat stunned Soroto and ran back. Just then, a rain of stones shot out from the dense woods, and countless Goblins, screeching and wailing, rushed into Soroto’s view.

“Reno, you and your men hold them off for a while, then break out to the west!”

Without giving anyone time to think, Victor shouted his orders. Reno let out a great roar and led nineteen Alchemical militiamen to meet the Bugbears chasing after Victor. His long-handled refined iron warhammer smashed two Bugbears out of existence with a vicious whistle. Reno took the lead, charging into the midst of the Goblins and unleashing a storm of blood and gore.

“A Ferocious warrior!”

“Go, now!” Victor yelled at Clefton, who was frozen in place.

“Retreat!” Clefton snapped back to his senses, and the apprentice knights and soldiers of House Sorim followed.

“Lord Randal! House Sorim will surely repay this kindness handsomely,” Clefton said as he ran.

Victor’s warriors had held back the Goblin tide, giving the others a chance to retreat safely. To them, this was no different from a suicide mission. Soroto had been hesitant at first, but after hearing Clefton’s words, he could only sigh inwardly. The lives of common soldiers were ultimately not as precious as those of apprentice knights. Although they were sacrificing a Ferocious warrior, it was worth it if it meant saving two apprentice knights.

As a high-ranking clergy, Soroto was not an inflexible man. The most important thing now was to ensure Victor’s safety. The Adjudicator thought no more of it and followed the group, retreating toward the edge of the forest.

The roars of the warriors and the screams of the Goblins never ceased, but they had grown faint and distant. The edge of the forest was just ahead, and the group slowed their pace. They were basically out of danger. Victor suddenly leaped onto a large tree beside them and said to Clefton, “You all leave the Gloomy Forest first. I’m going back to see if I can save a few men.”

Clefton’s lips moved, but he finally couldn’t help but say, “Victor, I understand that a lord should not abandon his Vassals, but those Warriors have likely already been sacrificed. That Ferocious warrior might be able to hold out a little longer, but we won’t be able to save him even if we go back. It would be better to gather our soldiers first before launching a rescue.”

How could they all be dead? This attack was orchestrated by Victor himself. There were strong reinforcements waiting to the west where Reno was charging. Once the two forces met, they would have forty Crouching Ox Militiamen, fifty Lithe Ape militiamen, and twenty-five Alchemical Warhounds. This force could completely crush the Goblin tribe. As long as the Alchemical Warhounds killed the Hobgoblin chief first, not a single Alchemical militiaman would die.

“I’m perfectly safe in the trees. You don’t need to worry.”

Without waiting for Clefton to persuade him further, Victor leaped away, heading back into the depths of the forest. Soroto also leaped onto a large tree, following behind Victor, his agility in no way inferior. Clefton’s mouth hung open, and he shook his head helplessly. He had no way of leaping between branches in the dim light and could only watch as the two figures disappeared into the sea of trees.

Victor leaped across five large trees before stopping on a branch. Soroto landed beside him.

“I can’t get to the canopy, but the thicker branches are no trouble for me. Let’s go,” Soroto explained flatly, a hint of admiration in his eyes as he looked at Victor.

Victor smiled silently, then turned and leaped onto the opposite tree. Soroto followed close behind.

The two of them soared through the dense forest, leaping as if in flight.

Chapter 240: Left in the Tree

The battlefield was a wreck, with the corpses of dozens of Goblins scattered throughout the woods.

These humanoid creatures had died horribly. They had either been smashed to a pulp or sliced in two; there was scarcely a whole body to be seen. Gaudy green entrails mingled in pools of crimson blood, and the reek of gore and decay was nauseating.

Victor’s stomach churned. His extraordinary Perception subjected him to a double assault on his senses of sight and smell. It was only after using the X-3 to dull the nauseating feeling that his complexion returned to normal.

In over two years, Victor had personally killed at least a hundred intelligent creatures, including humans. Not long ago, he had even slain ten Bugbears with his own hands.

Despite having blood on his hands, Victor was still averse to killing and corpses, especially those of humans and other intelligent species. It was a behavioral inertia from a civilized society. However, in this world, sanctimonious compassion was the greatest heresy.

To fight for the space to survive, the intelligent species here were accustomed to using violence to solve their problems. Humans were, of course, no exception—especially the Knights and Nobles among them.

Lilia had taken the life of a rioter when she was a child, but compared to Nicole, she was a novice before a master. Nicole was gentle, lovely, and beautiful as a flower, and submissive to Victor in every way, yet she could kill several men without so much as batting an eye, merely because those scoundrels wanted to seize Victor’s assets.

Even his beloved woman was like this, so Victor had no choice but to adapt to the new rule of survival of the fittest. He had won Nicole’s heart by facing an Ogre head-on, earned the approval of the Nobles and the support of the War Bear Mercenaries by ordering the elimination of disobedient freemen, received the sincere devotion of his subjects by fighting the Ant-man army, and shot to fame after publicly killing Austin… He had integrated into this world through one battle and slaughter after another, becoming a true Pioneer Lord.

Adapting to combat and killing was not easy for a modern man accustomed to a life of peace. Fortunately, Victor had the X-3. This biochip, a product of his civilized world’s cutting-edge technology, allowed him to easily enter a state of focus, stripping away the interference of negative emotions. During battle, he was as precise and cold as a killing machine, but it also meant he could never experience the terror of a life-or-death struggle, the adrenaline-fueled thrill of combat, or the joy of defeating a powerful enemy.

Victor knew he could not yet be considered a true warrior. Without the aid of the X-3, even if he wasn’t vomiting right now, he certainly couldn’t be like Soroto, inspecting the Goblin corpses with an impassive face.

After examining the battlefield, Soroto said to Victor, “Good news. Your men successfully broke through the Goblin encirclement, and so far, no one has been sacrificed. Also, the Goblins didn’t give chase. They’re out of danger.”

“Master Soroto, how can you tell they’re out of danger?” Victor asked curiously.

“With a Ferocious Warrior leading the charge, it’s no difficult task for this small team of Elite Soldiers to break through a Goblin encirclement. The real danger is the pursuit from the Goblin tribe.” Soroto pointed toward the battlefield and said, “I just found four Hobgoblin corpses, all killed by a beast’s bite. If I’m not mistaken, this is the handiwork of that dire wolf from earlier.”

“The dire wolf killed the Goblin chiefs, and the tribe disintegrated on the spot. The common Goblins scattered and fled, while the Bugbears instinctively chased after the dire wolf. That’s why your soldiers are temporarily safe.”

“This Goblin tribe was likely a threat to the wolf pack’s safety, which is why the dire wolf tried to hunt down their chiefs. Hobgoblins always have Bugbear bodyguards, so the dire wolf couldn’t find an opening. Thus, it deliberately lured the Goblin tribe to us, all for the sake of killing every Goblin chief in one go.” Soroto shook his head and said with a self-mocking laugh, “To think we were used by a mere beast.”

“If there’s a wolf pack led by a dire wolf here, we must find those soldiers quickly.”

With that, Soroto began tracking the trail left by Reno and the others, heading west with Victor close behind him. The two moved swiftly through the forest. After about half a kilometer, Victor stopped.

Soroto looked at Victor with a questioning gaze. Victor said flatly, “The dire wolf is just ahead!”

The words had barely left his lips when an Alchemical Warhound shot out from the shadows. It bared its fangs and let out a threatening growl, its bright green eyes fixed on Soroto, its thick tail wagging back and forth.

Stupid dog, don’t wag your tail…

Victor cursed inwardly as he drew his bow, nocked an arrow, and pointed it at the Alchemical Warhound. Fortunately, canines could also express hostility and warning by wagging their tails, so Soroto didn’t notice anything amiss. He raised a hand to stop Victor, saying, “Don’t be hasty. It doesn’t seem hostile.”

Victor inwardly pursed his lips and relaxed the bowstring. Soroto, however, slowly approached the Alchemical Warhound. He even crouched down, intending to pat the Warhound on the head!

The Alchemical Warhound wasn’t about to fall for that. It opened its bloody maw and lunged at Soroto’s arm. Soroto twisted his arm, dodging the lightning-fast bite, and in the same motion, seized the Warhound by the side of its neck, slamming its head hard into the pile of fallen leaves. The Alchemical Warhound struggled desperately, its four paws digging a large pit in the dead leaves and branches on the ground. Its furious roars startled countless birds into flight, yet Soroto’s arm was like cast iron, pinning it firmly to the ground, unable to retaliate.

The Alchemical Warhound’s explosive power was greater than that of a warhorse, yet it was completely unable to break free from Soroto’s arm.

Victor’s eyes went wide. This was the first time he had seen an ordinary human completely overpower the brute strength of an Alchemical Warhound. It was true that Soroto was an Adjudicator, but without using divine arts, his physical attributes were at the peak of human limits. How could he possibly pin an Alchemical Warhound to the ground and grind it into the dirt?

Victor silently observed Soroto’s movements and quickly discovered the secret. Soroto’s arm was constantly trembling slightly, deftly neutralizing the Alchemical Warhound’s every struggle.

Listening Force! An advanced technique of the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form.

Currently, not a single one of his Lithe Ape militiamen had mastered this technique. Victor could achieve a similar effect with the help of his great cheat, the X-3, but he had no intention of playing games of close-quarters grappling with his enemies.

Victor felt a wave of frustration. He had thought the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form and Spirit Monkey Mystic Form would give his soldiers an absolute advantage, but the power Soroto displayed made him realize he had underestimated the level of martial skill in this world. However, the principles of martial arts were universal, and Soroto’s god-like skill also confirmed the potential of the two Mystic Forms.

At this thought, Victor began to secretly plot how to obtain the Church’s martial arts training methods.

“Victor, please keep an eye out for the nearby wolf pack. Buy me a little time.”

Soroto was overcome with joy. Of all dire animals, the dire wolf was second in intelligence only to the dire ape, and they were social animals. The Church had a secret art to tame these two types of dire creatures and make them companions for Sacred Warriors.

All I need to do is let this beast see its companions being slaughtered, and it will submit. Then I can take it out and train it slowly… What?! Bloodlust?!

Just as Soroto’s mind was racing with possibilities, an unexpected change occurred! The Alchemical Warhound’s mane bristled, its massive body swelled by a full size, and its eyes turned from green to red. The unstoppable, monstrous force coming from under his arm convinced Soroto he could no longer hold the beast down. He made a snap decision, his Adamantine Gauntlet striking the dire wolf’s ear.

Bang! After the dull thud, the Alchemical Warhound let out a mournful whine and gradually stopped struggling. Its skull had been shattered.

Eight hundred Gold Sol, gone…

The corner of Victor’s mouth twitched, but Soroto’s ability to kill the Alchemical Warhound also made him green with envy. Victor’s desire to obtain Soroto’s martial arts training methods grew even stronger.

“What a pity.”

Frustrated, Soroto took out an adamantine dagger, preparing to skin the wolf for its hide and sinews. Such a smart and powerful dire wolf was dead just like that. Now, all he could do was collect some spoils to console himself.

“The wolf pack is here,” Victor said flatly from behind Soroto. He couldn’t let Soroto skin the Alchemical Warhound; in less than ten days, the Warhound’s corpse would completely decompose. This was the difference between alchemical creatures and ordinary ones.

Soroto put away his dagger, preparing to vent his frustration on the wolf pack. When the Alchemical Warhounds appeared one after another, Soroto’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor.

“To the trees!”

The two men quickly scrambled up a large, nearby tree. Twenty-one Alchemical Warhounds surrounded the base of the tree, letting out long, drawn-out howls.

“Master, I saw how easily you killed that dire wolf. Why must we hide in a tree? Let’s just get rid of them all,” Victor said to Soroto from a higher branch.

Eerie howls echoed through the forest as Soroto wore a bewildered expression. Only one in a hundred creatures entered a Savage state. Soroto had never heard of dire animals appearing in swarms. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he would never have believed that the entire wolf pack was composed of dire wolves.

This many dire wolves could have easily wiped out that Goblin tribe. Why did they lead the Goblins to us? And why don’t I sense any killing intent from them?

Soroto’s brow furrowed into a knot. He didn’t have Victor’s sharp, extraordinary Perception, but his tempered mind gave the Adjudicator an intuition as keen as a dire animal’s. The numerous oddities overturned his previous speculation, plunging Soroto into a deep fog.

It wasn’t to eliminate the Goblin tribe, nor was it to hunt us. That means it was to stop us from advancing! Could it be that there’s some kind of wondrous object up ahead that can cause creatures to enter a Savage state? Soroto’s heart pounded wildly.

A Sacred Warrior in a Savage state was incredibly powerful. The Church had been researching methods to induce this state in Sacred Warriors for years, but had made no progress for millennia. If Soroto’s judgment was correct, the Church would obtain that wondrous object at any cost.

“Victor, dire wolves are not easy to deal with. We’d best not provoke them. With so many dire wolves here, it seems your soldiers have already met with misfortune. Let’s head back from the trees,” Soroto advised, not intending for Victor to ponder the secret of the dire wolf pack.

Victor put on a reluctant expression. “We must go ahead and see. Master Soroto, didn’t you say you were out of divine arts? I can fight too.”

“I’ve already used the Art of Sacred Indwelling.” Soroto thought for a moment before admitting, “This is a divine art that only we Adjudicators can master. Holy power fills our bodies, and we can call upon it at any moment to unleash superhuman strength and agility. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to kill that dire wolf in one strike.”

“Victor, it’s not that it’s impossible for me to kill these dire wolves, but that it can’t be done. Not even a legendary paladin could wipe out this many dire wolves.”

“Humanity’s strength lies in our wisdom and heritage, not in individual combat prowess.”

Soroto noticed Victor gripping his sword, an eager look on his face. He had no choice but to use his most sincere tone to dispel Victor’s delusion. “You dispatched those Bugbears with ease earlier. I could do the same, but our goal was not to eliminate the Goblins, but to save as many lives as possible. If I had also forcefully killed the Bugbears, they would have scattered and fled. That’s why I left them for Clefton to kill. The remaining Bugbears wouldn’t run off in fear, and when the rest of the Goblin tribe arrived, all you had to do was find and shoot the Hobgoblins, and the tribe would collapse. Only then could we achieve our goal.”

“These dire wolves are no match for us, but they will flee. In this dim environment, it would be very difficult for us to eliminate them. These cunning and ferocious beasts would trail us constantly, preventing us from eating or sleeping, and wear us down with exhaustion. That is the dire wolf’s customary tactic.” Soroto shook his head and said, “To be honest, dire animals are very hard to exterminate.”

“You just said that heritage is our strength?” A thought struck Victor, and he deliberately asked.

“Yes. Hobgoblins do not lack intelligence, but they have no heritage, so they do not understand human tactics. The experience, knowledge, and skills accumulated by our Church and passed down through generations are the foundation of humanity’s existence,” Soroto said with a nod.

“Then, could you teach me your martial arts? Of course, I can pay a price, like trading my own techniques in exchange,” Victor asked carefully.

Soroto had originally intended to refuse outright, but he changed his mind. “I can see that your Ferocious Warrior possesses extraordinary skills, but I cannot make that decision. You can discuss it with My lord Lazarus.”

“However, you may be disappointed. We Adjudicators tear our own muscles and bones inch by inch, then use divine arts and secret potions to heal. This painful tempering makes our bodies and minds exceptionally strong. An ordinary person cannot endure such training.”

Victor was silent for a long while before saying, “Then let’s go.”

The two of them sped through the branches for half an hour before finally returning to the place where they had parted with Clefton. Victor stopped. “Wait, the dire wolves are still following us.”

“It’s fine. They can’t climb trees,” Soroto said, unconcerned.

“Master, you’re not planning to lead these dire beasts to Baron Schultz’s fief, are you?” Victor sighed helplessly.

Soroto was startled. He looked down and saw that the dire wolves had indeed gathered at their feet again. “Dammit. It’s probably because I killed their leader.”

“Then what do we do? We can’t outlast them in the trees.”

Once these dire wolves entered human territory, they would become a nightmare for the populace. As a clergyman of the Church, Soroto could not stand by and let such a disaster happen. He said resolutely, “I’ll stay here! Victor, you go back first.”

“Master, how long can you hold out?” Victor asked.

“I can stay here and fight them. As long as they besiege me, I can slowly kill them all. It might take ten days, maybe a month, but you can’t last that long. So, you must go back first and bring an army to retrieve me,” Soroto said calmly.

“Very well!”

Victor handed his waterskin and journey rations to Soroto, instructing, “Master, we’re still twenty kilometers from the edge of the forest. I will be back with men to get you soon. You must stay in this tree, otherwise we’ll have a hard time finding you.”

Soroto nodded. “Don’t worry, I won’t wander off. And you don’t have to worry about me running out of supplies. These dire wolves are my prey.”

“Take care, Master. I’m leaving now!” Victor leaped to a neighboring tree and disappeared from Soroto’s sight after a few jumps.

Victor glanced back and couldn’t help but laugh. The entire pack of Alchemical Warhounds was staring expectantly at Soroto, who was sitting on a branch. They would be tied up with the Adjudicator for a good two days.

“Heh heh, you won’t be eating any dog meat. Just stay put in that tree for a couple of days.”

Chapter 241: Forest Camp

Victor flitted across the sprawling branches. The sudden weight made the branch beneath his feet dip before springing back up. Using this momentum, Victor shot forward like a lightning bolt. The branch he aimed for was too thin and snapped instantly. As he fell, Victor reached out, grabbed the broken end of the branch, and somersaulted, landing steadily on a fork in the tree. Without pausing, he leaped to an even higher branch.

The wind, thick with the scent of nature, rushed to meet him. Victor bounded between the branches with abandon. The thrumming in his Bloodline filled him with a sense of kinship for this intimidating forest. At this moment, he didn’t even need to use Wind Walk; Overlimit alone allowed him to traverse the woods as freely as an ape.

The wind whistled in his ears, as cheerful as Victor’s current mood.

Victor was very pleased with his latest scheme. He had given the precious cleansing potions to Lelira and Lucian and, with a grand gesture of generosity, helped Thorn Manor out of its predicament. To an ordinary person, this might be seen as willfulness, but they didn’t know that Victor had not only perfectly concealed his intentions but had also secured numerous benefits.

Victor exchanged green bricks for charcoal, simultaneously promoting his bricks and acquiring a stable and inexpensive energy source. This fuel, often overlooked by titled nobles, was generally used for cooking, smithing, and heating, and of course, for firing earthenware bricks. Nearly every fief had vast tracts of wildland, so people didn’t lack for firewood. As a result, charcoal had not become a common trade commodity like Oilwood. But with the growth of the green brick industry, the giant brick kilns of the Centaur Hills would require an immeasurable amount of wood. To protect the vegetation in his own fief, Victor and the York family had to purchase charcoal from elsewhere. Seeing an opportunity for profit, the other lords would inevitably drive up the price. However, Lordship Lelira, having received Victor’s aid in front of many witnesses, was now bound to their agreement for a long time to come.

Furthermore, with Victor as their backer, if Lelira and Lucian could become apprentice knights, it would be difficult for Baron Schultz to crudely interfere with the agreement Thorn Manor had made with Victor.

As long as Thorn Manor supplied a steady stream of charcoal to the Centaur Hills, the other lords could forget about raising their prices. It was safe to say that Victor, the major buyer, had now set the price for charcoal!

Secondly, Victor had no plans to recruit Knights, but the Randell Fief was in dire need of stewards who were literate and skilled in arithmetic. Victor’s favor and reward toward Lucian for inventing plant-based dyes also burnished his reputation as a man who cherished talent. It was foreseeable that many down-on-their-luck noble scions would flock to the House of Randell with their own inventions, filling the vacant steward positions.

Give first, take later; profit while feigning innocence. Victor’s methods were becoming more and more like Sylvia’s, though they were also infused with his own philosophy of mutual, symbiotic benefit.

In truth, helping Lucian and Lelira become apprentice knights was merely a convenient opportunity he seized upon. He had to enter the Gloomy Forest one way or another. In fact, Victor had begun planning how to shake his tails back in Red Pine Town. Although he had now successfully separated Clefton and the Adjudicator, Solo, he had to hurry, or the people waiting outside would grow anxious.

Guided by an alchemical crow, Victor moved at full speed. Forty minutes later, he rendezvoused with the Alchemical militia led by Reno. Two hours after that, Victor arrived at the Alchemical militia’s camp.

The camp was encircled by a wooden palisade over eight meters tall. Stepping inside the fence, Victor entered a world of fragrant blossoms and birdsong. The Alchemical militia had felled dozens of towering trees to create a forest clearing of eighteen mu. Brilliant sunlight poured down upon a landscape of lush green grass and blooming flowers. Small birds chirped among the blossoms. Several log cabins stood on the lawn, and from wooden racks outside hung cured meat and animal hides. On the roofs were several large, shallow baskets filled with dried mushrooms and assorted dried fruits. Any birds that tried to sneak a taste were mercilessly driven away by the alchemical crows.

It was a veritable paradise hidden deep in the forest.

The long-missed sunlight eased Victor’s urgent mood. He lingered on the grass for a while before entering the largest of the log cabins.

This spacious cabin was over seven meters tall and had two floors. The first floor was an open space, with dozens of animal-hide pallets laid out on the floorboards to the left and right—this was presumably where the Alchemical militia slept. In contrast to the large, communal sleeping area on the first floor, the second floor was divided into many rooms: a bedroom, a study, a conference room, and a washroom, all fully furnished. There were even wooden planters with flowers and herbs.

Victor sat behind the wooden table in the conference room. He patted the redwood armrest with satisfaction, then shook his head with a hint of regret.

As per Victor’s requirements, every stronghold established by the Alchemical militia included comfortable living quarters for him. Unfortunately, Victor wouldn’t have time to spend even a single night here. This camp would soon be abandoned, and all the Alchemical militia would be withdrawn.

“First, report on your general situation,” Victor said.

“As you command, My lord.”

Kobo, the Captain of the Alchemical militia responsible for the Gloomy Forest, stepped forward and said, “We have been deployed in the Gloomy Forest for two hundred and ninety-eight days. We have explored an area of two thousand, seven hundred square kilometers, identifying eleven salt mines, three obsidian mines, one Mithra Crystal mine, two iron ore veins, and four copper ore veins, one of which has an associated Adamantine mine. We have also found seven Goblin tribes, three Gnoll tribes, sixteen types of Class III medicinal herbs, one type of Class II herb, one type of Class I herb, and one new species. We have effective control over six hundred square kilometers of forest, including one Mithra Crystal mine, one salt mine, one common copper ore vein, and two forest clearings. The suspicious target is also under our control, seven kilometers from this camp. In total, we have lost nineteen alchemical crows, two Alchemical Warhounds, two Crouching Ox Militiamen, and three Lithe Ape militiamen.”

Alchemical militia and Alchemical Warhounds had actually died!

Victor was startled. He rubbed his temples and said, “That’s a lot of information. Let’s go through it one by one.”

“How did my alchemical creatures die?”

“The Gloomy Forest is home to many Harpy Eagles, which prey on various birds and arboreal animals. During our exploration, the nineteen alchemical crows were hunted and killed by Harpy Eagles.”

“One hundred and seventy-nine days ago, we discovered a new species in the canopy near the suspicious target. Following exploration protocols, we first observed the new species’ habits and attempted to capture a live specimen. In the process of capturing the specimen, a hunting party consisting of two Alchemical Warhounds and five Alchemical militiamen was eliminated by the new species. As the new species was not our mission objective, and given its danger level, I ordered a halt to the hunt.”

Victor frowned, recalling the Goat-Headed Monster Baron Schultz had mentioned. He asked, “Is this new species a monster with a goat’s head and an ape’s body?”

“Yes, My lord.” Kobo nodded woodenly.

“Let’s name this new species ‘Goat-Headed Monster’ for now!”

Victor fell silent for a moment, then couldn’t help but ask, “What class of monster would the Goat-Headed Monster be?”

“My lord, according to the classification system you’ve redefined, the male chief of the Goat-Headed Monsters can be considered a Class III creature. The rest of the adults are Class IV creatures,” Kobo replied.

“A Class III creature can annihilate my squad of alchemical creatures?” Victor exclaimed in disbelief.

The Alchemical Empire had its own system for classifying species. They categorized the Hydra Lizard as an Over-rank creature, an Ogre chief as a Class II creature, and a Marsh Dragon-Lizard as a Class III creature, but they had no concept of a Class IV. For convenience, Victor had simply mapped the classes to Knight ranks: Class I as Gold-rank, Class II as Silver-rank, Class III as Bronze-rank, and Class IV as Black Iron-rank. The Alchemical Warhounds and Alchemical militia fell into the category of Class IV creatures.

Although a man-made classification couldn’t represent true combat power, it did provide a rough measure of strength. The Alchemical militia possessed advanced martial techniques, excellent equipment, and an understanding of tactical coordination. Their combat effectiveness far surpassed that of most Class IV creatures, and they could even take down many Class III creatures. Yet an entire hunting party had been annihilated by Goat-Headed Monsters!

Beyond his surprise, Victor felt a twinge of concern. The Goat-Headed Monsters lived near the ruins, which meant a fierce battle might lie ahead!

“My lord, the Goat-Headed Monsters are social creatures. This particular group has six hundred and twenty-one members.”

It turned out that after encountering the Goat-Headed Monsters, the Alchemical militia began observing this new species, which was not recorded on the Will Side. They discovered that the Goat-Headed Monsters lived in family units, with each male chief ruling over two dozen family members. Dozens of these families gathered to form a large tribe. They typically lived in trees, ate leaves and berries, and were not aggressive by nature. However, a tribe of Goat-Headed Monsters would launch a ferocious attack on any external threat and would not stop until the threat was eliminated. The Harpy Eagles of the forest were their only natural predator.

At first, the Goat-Headed Monsters paid no mind to the Alchemical militia. But when the militia shot and injured one of them, the entire tribe went berserk, leaping down from the trees to hunt down the militia squad. The Goat-Headed Monsters were incredibly strong and swift, and they were unhindered by the forest terrain. The militia squad was unable to escape the pursuit and was ultimately wiped out, though they managed to kill nine Goat-Headed Monsters in the fight.

“According to protocol, we dissected the corpses of the Goat-Headed Monsters. We found that they have three hearts. The toughness of their horns meets the standard for a Class I resource, while their bones and hides meet the standard for a Class III resource. Their flesh is non-toxic and edible. Our preliminary conclusion is that the Goat-Headed Monster is a new species with harvesting value. I recommend that you, My lord, conduct further observation to collect more detailed data and samples to upload to the Alchemy Tower,” Kobo suggested.

“I don’t care about any of that! And I don’t care if the meat tastes good!” Victor shook his head in frustration and asked, “Tell me, will the Goat-Headed Monsters obstruct the excavation of the ruins?”

“They will not!”

“Are you sure?”

“My lord, I am certain!” Kobo said.

Victor breathed a sigh of relief. The Alchemical militia never joked. If they said they were certain, it was an absolute guarantee.

“What are the Mithra crystals and the Class I herb? Do you have samples?”

“We have samples.”

Victor recognized both samples Kobo brought him. One was a White Crystal, and the other was a Kui Root.

White crystals had two main functions: storing holy power and being loaded with divine arts. Crystals that stored holy power were called Holy Crystals, and clergy could absorb the power within them. White crystals loaded with divine arts were called Divine Crystals, which allowed low-rank clergy to directly unleash high-rank divine arts. White crystals were a strategic resource for the Radiant Church and could, to some extent, be used as currency. Each white crystal was worth four hundred Gold Sols.

The Kui Root was an herb native to the Twilight Forest. It was said to increase the chances of noble Knights producing offspring, but Victor thought it was useless. The little Baron frequently ate Kui Root stewed with deer penis at the Marquess’s estate, a supplement that made his nose bleed constantly, yet Sophia still hadn’t become pregnant.

Alright, the Kui Root was basically an aphrodisiac for ordinary nobles! It was quite valuable.

Victor hadn’t expected to find Kui Root in the Gloomy Forest, let alone that it was considered a Class I herb by the Alchemical Empire!

“What class of material is the Mithra crystal? What’s it used for?” Victor asked curiously.

“It’s a Class III material. Its specific use is unknown,” Kobo replied.

“What’s this herb called? What’s it for?”

“Kurtz Rhizome. It’s an herb with an affinity for the water element, a Class I material, and the main ingredient for making Restoration Potions.”

“Restoration Potion? What does it do?” Victor pressed.

“It’s a specialized potion for alchemists. It can restore an alchemist’s Spirit and stamina.”

An idea sparked in Victor’s mind, and he pressed further, “Can you make Restoration Potions?”

“I can.”

Getting an affirmative answer, Victor nodded in satisfaction. He had always been curious about alchemists, but the Alchemical humans were merely the lowest-level resource gatherers in the Alchemical Empire; they didn’t understand the full scope of alchemical civilization. Perhaps the Restoration Potion could reveal a part of the alchemists’ secrets.

However, the matter of the potion could wait. The immediate priority was to inspect what was suspected to be an Alchemy Tower.

Victor stood up and commanded, “Take me to see that stone sphere!”

Chapter 242: Activation

Under the protection of the Alchemical militia, Victor walked for about seven kilometers. Along the way, he encountered Goat-Headed Monsters dwelling in the trees.

When Victor saw the Goat-Headed Monster, it was perched on a branch, chewing on leaves. This goat-headed, ape-bodied monster was about 1.5 meters tall with brown fur. Its lower limbs were short, but its upper limbs were thick and powerful, and the muscles on its back were highly pronounced, suggesting great explosive strength.

Upon noticing the movement below, the Goat-Headed Monster emitted a warning cry similar to an ape’s. The crowns of distant trees shook, and within a few breaths, a dozen or so Goat-Headed Monsters had gathered by their companion’s side, screeching down at Victor and his men from their high perches.

Perhaps after confirming that the creatures below posed no threat to their group, the Goat-Headed Monsters gradually ceased their cries and went back to eating leaves.

Goat-Headed Monster: Physique 14, Spirit 4, Perception 14, Life 16.

Victor silently retracted his gaze. Elemental Attributes didn’t define combat power, but they did determine the body’s limits. If an Elite Soldier with 10 Physique and a Ferocious Warrior with 20 Physique both cultivated the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form, the power they could unleash would be on completely different levels; this was the disparity in force that their respective physiques could withstand. The Goat-Headed Monsters’ Physique was higher than the Lithe Ape militiaman’s, and their Perception surpassed that of someone using the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form. If they swarmed down from the trees, the Alchemical militia would indeed have a hard time fending them off. Fortunately, these creatures were herbivores and not very intelligent. As long as they weren’t provoked, they could coexist peacefully.

Before long, Victor walked into another camp—or more accurately, a bunker made of wood. The six Alchemical militiamen on guard duty opened the bunker door and lit four torches. Descending a flight of stairs, Victor finally saw an earthen-yellow stone sphere resting quietly in a pit.

The stone sphere was 1.5 meters in diameter, its surface perfectly smooth; even with Victor’s sharp eyes, he couldn’t find a single flaw. The sphere’s color was identical to the void earth element Marquess Golan had condensed—the purest earthen yellow. Victor gave it a hard push, but the sphere didn’t budge. He noticed that its base was connected to the earthen-yellow rock, making it look like a hemispherical stone egg had grown out of the rock.

“This must be an Element Extraction Altar,” Victor said excitedly. “The King can transform the altar in Alchemy Tower No. 7 into this form.”

“The question is, how do we open it?”

Victor rubbed his chin and shouted, “Open Sesame!”

The stone sphere remained still.

“In my capacity as the Master of Alchemy Tower No. 7 of the Néier Empire, I command you to open!”

The stone sphere still didn’t move.

After several more futile attempts, the stone sphere remained inert. Victor placed a hand on it and muttered to himself, “Should I drip some blood on it?”

Although he said it, Victor knew it was an unreliable method. He began to recall the way the Element Extraction Altar had split apart. Just then, a朦朧 ray of light seeped out from under his palm. Victor snatched his hand back in fright, and the light vanished instantly, the sphere returning to its original state.

“By touch and intent?”

Victor placed his hand on the sphere again, visualizing the scene of the Element Extraction Altar splitting apart. Streaks of light shone from within the stone sphere, connecting on its surface to form a hexagonal network. The light-formed pattern grew brighter and brighter until the entire pit was illuminated. The stone sphere then split apart, and diamond-shaped blocks of stone floated in the air. They slowly turned into clusters of earthen-yellow light before gradually dissipating, leaving only a shimmering Rune Crystal shining in the void.

“It’s that simple?”

Overjoyed, Victor reached for the Rune Crystal that represented the Alchemy Tower, but his hand passed right through it. Surprised, Victor rubbed his eyes. The Rune Crystal was still hanging in the same spot. He tried a few more times but still couldn’t grab anything. The crystal was like a phantom made of air—visible but intangible.

This was different from Alchemy Tower No. 7. Not only could Victor freely take the Rune Crystals from Tower No. 7, but he could also change the light they emitted with a thought, disguising them as ordinary crystals. However, once a Rune Crystal left his side, it would enter this state of being tantalizingly out of reach, appearing as nothing but a phantom to others.

“If I can open it, I can take it! I just have to find the way!”

Victor carefully replayed the recent details in his mind. He placed his finger on the empty space where the Rune Crystal hovered and tried to change its properties with his will, but it still had no effect.

“That’s not right. This isn’t my Alchemy Tower. My will has no effect on it!” Victor withdrew his finger and murmured, “It’s not will, it’s visualization!”

Touching the phantom-like Rune Crystal again, Victor carefully recalled the element crystal of Alchemy Tower No. 7. When he thought of the Rune Crystal breaking down into its rune form, this Rune Crystal instantly transformed into four runes of different colors, rotating slowly in the air.

The runes were abstruse and unfathomable, representing the Law of Creation of this world. Victor could see them, but he could never remember their details. Even recording them with the X-3 was useless; all that remained in his mind was a blurry memory. This inexplicable phenomenon felt perfectly natural. However, the colors of the four basic runes corresponded to the colors of the four major elements: red, yellow, blue, and green. Here, the red, yellow, and blue runes were normal, but the green rune, representing the water element, was dim and faint, looking as if it might extinguish at any moment.

This wasn’t surprising. The King had told Victor that the rune system of a Rune Crystal corresponded to the functions of its Alchemy Tower, and Alchemy Towers could collapse. This was clearly a damaged one. Still, Victor definitely couldn’t take four runes he could see but not touch!

Victor placed his hand in the center of the four runes and visualized them reforming into a crystal, planning to return them to their original state and think of another way. But something unexpected happened. The four runes began to spin at high speed, quickly condensing into a single point before merging into Victor’s palm and vanishing without a trace!

Victor was aghast. He carefully inspected his palm, then wiggled his fingers, but found no strange sensation. Slightly relieved, he focused on visualizing the Rune Crystal’s appearance again, trying to summon it out of his palm. Victor had no desire to chop off his own hand and present it to the King to tinker with.

There was no response from the Rune Crystal. Victor scratched his head and asked Reno, who was beside him, “You saw the Rune Crystal merge into my hand just now, right?”

“Yes! I saw it,” Reno replied. After a moment’s thought, he added, “My lord, I saw it plain as day, clear as can be. Your hand ate the Rune Crystal!”

“Nice, you’re learning to joke.” Victor patted Reno’s shoulder. “Remember the story I’m about to tell you. Don’t let anything slip in front of Solo! Let’s go back.”

In any case, the Rune Crystal was secured. He would leave the rest for the King to handle. Victor certainly wasn’t going to cut off his own hand.

The group started back toward the camp. As they walked, Victor began to feel that something was wrong. His stamina was draining rapidly, his legs felt as heavy as if they were filled with lead, and he was actually gasping for breath!

With Victor’s current physical fitness, he could easily run a marathon while carrying over a hundred pounds of equipment and probably win a championship back on Earth. But now, after walking just a few hundred meters, he was so exhausted his vision was turning black, and he was on the verge of collapsing.

“Guard me!” Victor made a snap decision, sitting cross-legged on the ground. He visualized the Golden Toad lying dormant, its life concealed.

The X-3 regulated his breathing and cleared his mind of distracting thoughts. Victor quickly entered a state of concealment, devoid of joy or sorrow, of internal or external sensation. This time was different from before. Victor couldn’t sense any information from the outside world at all. The rate at which his stamina was disappearing slowed, but it was still steadily decreasing.

Victor realized that death was approaching, but the X-3 had completely purged negative emotions like fear, nervousness, and anxiety. He remained focused on visualizing the Golden Toad’s hibernation, his mind a lightless void, yet his spirit was free of worry and fear.

At this moment, time had lost its meaning. Unknowingly, Victor “saw” a light within his body. This was a state he had never experienced before—internal vision!

Victor was astonished to “see” four runes arranged inside his body: the red rune on top, the blue rune to the left, the yellow rune to the right, and the green rune on the bottom. That dim green rune was continuously absorbing the green brilliance within him; with every bit it absorbed, it grew a fraction brighter. Victor understood: the rune representing the water element was repairing itself, and his own water element had become its sustenance. The moment the water element in his body was completely drained by the rune would be the moment of his death!

This process would not stop unless the rune finished its repairs! However, the water element in his body was clearly insufficient to fix the green rune. But then Victor discovered that water element from the void was being drawn into his body through his breath. This was the secret behind how the Golden Toad Mystic Form restored stamina!

Victor decided to focus his attention entirely on the interaction between himself and the void’s water element. Accelerating the absorption of external water element to supplement his own loss was his only hope for survival!

As his visualization deepened, Victor’s comprehension of the water element grew, and his faintly stirring Bloodline became increasingly active. At some point, the Bloodline surged, transforming from a small stream into a mighty, flowing river, and void water element poured ceaselessly into his body.

Victor first “saw” the green rune turn from dim to bright, then it began to glow brilliantly, causing the other three runes to light up as well. Unconsciously, a lively wind element swirled around Victor, expressing its affection for him, while the flowing water element soothed his mind and body. The X-3 could no longer suppress the most primal resonance from his bloodline. Victor let out a long cry and rose to his feet. He opened his eyes to find that the sky had already grown dark.

The wind swirling around him stirred a thought. He had used Azure Blade earlier, and normally, entering a Wind Walk state now would leave him feeling mentally weak. But at this moment, he felt full of spirit and brimming with stamina. Moreover, he sensed that he could now activate his Bloodline, mobilize the water element within his body, and use it to replenish his vigor and stamina.

Although this ability had now quieted, Victor was certain that after a while, he would be able to activate this new power again. The feeling was instinctive and undeniably clear!

Physique 10, Spirit 14, Perception 23, Life 26. Observing his own elemental attributes, Victor noticed that his Life attribute had increased from its initial 18 points to 26, surpassing his Perception to become his highest elemental attribute.

Seeing the Alchemical militia standing guard around him, Victor was struck by a thought and quickly asked Reno, “How many nights has it been?”

“My lord, this is the first night,” Reno answered.

“Not several days and nights, then. Good.”

Victor smiled. With a thought, four rotating runes immediately appeared in his palm. The green rune had regained its brightness, and they shifted between crystal and rune forms according to Victor’s will.

“If I hadn’t activated this new ability in my Bloodline… you nearly drained me dry! From now on, this ability will be called Activation!”

Victor looked at the four runes spinning in his palm with lingering fear. This incident made him realize that although he held authority from the Alchemical Empire, he was not an Alchemist, and the Rune Crystal clearly required an Alchemist to repair it. He was lucky it was the water element rune that was defective this time. If it had been the earth or fire element rune, he would have surely died!

Seeing the earthen-yellow rune, Victor was suddenly reminded of Marquess Golan effortlessly manifesting the void earth element. Marquess Golan had once said that for a Pinnacle Knight, communicating with the four void elements was as simple as breathing.

An Alchemy Tower contains all four elements, and the four runes were repaired inside an Alchemist’s body… Could it be that Alchemists are all Pinnacle Knights!?

Chapter 243: Leaving

At night, the Gloomy Forest was shrouded in boundless darkness. The unsettling calls of the Night Owls added a touch of grim horror to the quiet woods.

Soroto slowly opened his eyes. He had just napped on a treetop for exactly three hours, precise to the second.

An Adjudicator could go three days and nights without eating, drinking, or sleeping while still maintaining a clear mind and sufficient combat strength. When needed, they could also fall asleep in any environment and wake up on time. Whether they were standing or lying down was completely irrelevant. Soroto had once slept for two hours under the torrent of a waterfall; by comparison, resting on a tree branch was no challenge at all.

The dense canopy blocked the cold, dim moonlight, leaving the forest pitch-black, a place where you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. In complete darkness, even a Moon Elf with dim vision couldn’t see their surroundings clearly. Soroto silently circulated his holy power, and a platinum-gold light gradually lit up in his eyes. Every detail around him became sharp and clear, but he saw no sign of the dire wolves.

To advance from a level four Sacred Warrior to an Adjudicator, one had to practice the Art of Sacred Indwelling. This involved tearing their own muscles and bones inch by inch, then healing them bit by bit with divine arts and secret potions, tempering their body and mind through pain unimaginable to ordinary people.

After completing this training, an Adjudicator’s body could be as soft as cotton or as hard as refined iron. An ordinary soldier wielding a battleaxe couldn’t cleave through their muscles and bones in a single strike. Adjudicators overcame pain, loneliness, and fear, their minds becoming as indestructible and crystal-clear as diamonds, possessing a keen intuition for danger and malice. Furthermore, during the process of healing their bodies with divine arts, the residual holy power merged with the Adjudicator, becoming one and the same. They could mobilize their holy power to strengthen themselves, much like a Knight channels Aura, reaching incredible levels of strength, perception, speed, agility, endurance, defense, and even elemental resistance and self-healing.

The sacred dwelling within the body, integrated with flesh and soul—this was the Art of Sacred Indwelling! With this, the Adjudicator stepped into the ranks of the extraordinary, holding a status equivalent to a Silver Knight.

Soroto enhanced his senses with holy power. Not only could he see his surroundings clearly in the dark, but he could also hear the crawling of insects. Yet, he could not detect any movement from the dire wolf pack, which left him both perplexed and anxious.

This pack of dire wolves had been tangling with Soroto for a day and a night. During that time, Soroto had tried to lure and kill a few of them to reduce the pressure on the rescue team. But the moment he leaped from the branches, the pack scattered and fled, hiding in the dim forest. Not a single dire wolf had appeared in Soroto’s sight since, but the sound of their howls constantly echoed around him.

Avoiding direct confrontation with a powerful opponent while employing tactics of tracking and harassment was the natural instinct of a wolf pack. However, Soroto felt that these dire wolves were unusual, and their behavior was fraught with suspicion.

There were twenty-one dire wolves in this pack, a force so powerful there was no need for them to avoid any prey. In fact, if the pack attacked without regard for casualties, Soroto couldn’t guarantee his own survival. Yet, no matter how he taunted them, the dire wolves remained hidden in the shadows. Soroto did not sense any hostility from them.

The dire wolves neither attacked nor retreated. Soroto couldn’t catch them, nor could he shake them off. In the end, he could only wait on the treetop for rescue.

However, Soroto had grown even more interested in this wolf pack. He believed there were two possible explanations for their abnormal behavior: they were either protecting some kind of wondrous object, or they were being controlled by a Wizard! But regardless of the reason, Soroto was determined to get to the bottom of it!

As one of the three major types of clergy, the promotion rules for Sacred Warriors were different from those for priests and Paladins. Before level five, a Sacred Warrior could advance to level four through their own faith and trials. But after becoming an Adjudicator, they could only advance through Divine Favor. There were two sources of Divine Favor: purifying Wizards or fighting beastmen and monsters.

Confronting the beastmen of the wilds was exceedingly dangerous. Soroto had worked hard to become a high-ranking clergy member and would not throw his life away at the hands of beastmen unless absolutely necessary. However, Adjudicators had short lifespans, generally not living past the age of sixty-five. Soroto was already forty-seven, and there were only two paths before him: advance or die of old age.

Some Wizards possessed terrifying abilities, but they were often loners. They had no backup, no cover, and no heritage, making them, at best, farmers with extraordinary powers. In terms of danger, they were far less of a threat than organized beastman tribes, yet the Divine Favor gained from purifying a Wizard was far more bountiful than that from eliminating beastmen.

Therefore, whenever clergy discovered traces of a Wizard, they were as ecstatic as if they had received the grace of the Lord of Radiance himself. Ordinary clergy would usually offer the glory of purifying a Wizard to their Bishop—this, of course, did not include Paladins, who were accustomed to taking all the credit for themselves.

Soroto decided to report the anomaly in the Gloomy Forest directly to Archbishop Lazarus. Whether these dire wolves were guarding some wondrous object or hiding a Wizard, he had no way of finding the target in the vast sea of trees, nor could he solve the problem alone. But Archbishop Lazarus could mobilize a thousand Sacred Warriors and priests to search the area. If they truly found something valuable, the Archbishop would reward them based on merit, and Soroto’s contribution would certainly not be overlooked. He would be content if he could obtain a high-level divine art crystal personally infused by the Archbishop.

In fact, Soroto had already left markers. When he leaped between branches, he had secretly used his strength to fracture the insides of the branches. Those branches would soon wither, becoming the most obvious trail markers. But Soroto wasn’t sure if the abundant void water element could repair these branches, which was why he was more inclined to capture a dire wolf alive.

But now, the dire wolves were gone!

Soroto circulated his holy power, pushing his hearing to its absolute limit, but he still couldn’t perceive any movement from the dire wolves. He did, however, hear the footsteps of two people.

Before long, two figures appeared in Soroto’s field of vision. The one in front was tall and burly, his refined iron warhammer covered in red gore. The person following him held two gleaming short swords and called out from a distance, “Master Soroto, are you alright?”

“Victor?!” Soroto slid down from the tree and asked in surprise, “You didn’t go back to Thorn Manor?”

“I was planning to return to Thorn Manor. But since the dire wolf pack was focused on you, I thought I might take the opportunity to search for any surviving guards.” Victor sheathed his twin swords and pointed at Reno. “Thankfully, I found Reno in time. Otherwise, he might have died in the Gloomy Forest as well.”

Looking at Victor’s relieved expression, Soroto was filled with suspicion.

Nobles valued two things: profit and reputation. Victor ordering his soldiers to stay behind and cover the retreat of House Sorim’s apprentice knights was in line with a noble’s pursuit of profit. However, sacrificing his soldiers’ lives would damage a lord’s reputation, so Victor’s insistence on searching for the rear guard was a way to salvage his name. Yet, finding twenty soldiers in the vast forest was like finding a needle in a haystack. Soroto had assumed Victor was just putting on a show, but he never expected him to actually rescue one of his men.

For a noble to brave the dangers of the deep forest alone to rescue his soldiers was not their usual way of doing things. Soroto couldn’t help but feel suspicious, but when he got a clear look at the soldier, his heart stirred. He asked, “Is this Warrior that Ferocious Warrior?”

“That’s right.”

Victor nodded happily. “I have two Ferocious Warriors under my command, Narsen and Reno here. It’s thanks to you, Master, for attracting the dire wolves’ attention. If it had been another day, even if Reno hadn’t been killed by the wolves, he would have gotten lost in the Gloomy Forest.”

Reno bowed solemnly to Soroto. “Thank you, Master.”

The House of Randell didn’t have any Knights yet, so it was logical for Victor to risk himself to save one of his Ferocious Warriors. Soroto waved his hand. “Don’t thank me. I didn’t do much to help.” He then asked, “Reno, where are your comrades? What happened to you after we left?”

“We broke through the Goblin encirclement and ran west for a while, but then we ran into a whole pack of dire wolves. The brothers all fled for their lives, and the team scattered. Later, I heard my lord’s call and managed to regroup with him. My lord led me in a search, but we didn’t find anyone else, so we gave up,” Reno said in a muffled tone.

Soroto nodded and said to Victor, “Those who haven’t been found by now are unlikely to be found later. By the way, did you encounter that pack of dire wolves on your way here?”

“No.” Victor shook his head. “I can hear any sound within a five hundred-meter radius, and I didn’t detect any dire wolves the entire time.”

“It seems the dire wolf pack left by another route.”

Soroto breathed a quiet sigh of relief. He had initially suspected the pack’s withdrawal was because of Victor, but if Victor had truly obtained the wondrous object, the pack would never have let them go. Victor could have evaded the dire wolves in the treetops, but a Ferocious Warrior couldn’t walk on branches. The fact that Reno was safe by Victor’s side was enough to prove they hadn’t encountered the pack, nor had they obtained the item.

“Let’s go back.”

Victor climbed a tree, determined the direction, and led the way toward the edge of the forest.

As the sky began to brighten, the three of them walked out of the forest. They were greeted by the frantic barking of several hounds, and then Victor saw a makeshift camp. The barking alerted the people in the camp, and two slender figures were the first to rush over, throwing themselves into Victor’s arms.

The twin sisters were dressed in scale armor with longswords at their waists. The older sister, Elina, buried her head in Victor’s shoulder, while the younger one, Alice, hugged his arm tightly, her voice trembling, “My lord, are you alright?! This is wonderful!”

Victor gently patted the Elina sisters’ backs and comforted them, “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“Haha! Victor, Master Soroto, I knew you two would make it out.”

Clefton, clad in armor, walked over laughing. Knight Kruser from the House of Schultz followed behind him with several retainers.

“Lord Randal, Master Soroto, it’s good that you’re safe.” Knight Kruser was also in full armor, and he was visibly relieved to see Victor and Soroto.

“I’m sorry to have worried you all,” Victor said apologetically as he gently detached himself from his personal handmaidens.

“Lord Randal, Master Soroto, we were just about to enter the forest to look for you. Since you’re out, why don’t you come to the camp and have something to eat first.”

Lelira spoke from the side. She was dressed in leather armor and holding a longsword, looking every bit the swordswoman. Victor smiled, “Lady Lelira, have you become an apprentice knight? What about Lucian?”

Lelira performed a Knight’s salute to Victor and said with mixed joy and sorrow, “Yes, my lord. I grasped Aura just yesterday. But Lucian hasn’t woken up yet.”

“It’s alright, I will wait ten days for him,” Victor nodded, then added, “Let’s talk in the camp.”

After the three had hastily filled their stomachs, Victor began to recount their ordeal in the forest. When he mentioned the large number of dire wolves at the forest’s edge, the faces of Lelira and Kruser changed drastically. If dire wolves were to enter human territory, not only would Thorn Manor suffer, but Baron Schultz’s fief would also sustain massive losses.

Clefton glanced at Reno, who was standing nearby, and said tactfully, “Victor, I’m afraid things don’t look good for those missing soldiers…”

“Yes.” Victor let out a fake sigh. “I can’t sacrifice more people for my soldiers. I will ensure their families are well compensated. We’ll rest at Thorn Manor for a few days and then get back on the road.”

Soroto chimed in, “Victor, Clefton, I won’t be accompanying you for the rest of the journey. Although dire wolves don’t usually leave their territory, just in case, I plan to summon the Sacred Warriors and station them at Thorn Manor for a while to prevent a dire wolf invasion.”

“Master, thank you so much,” Knight Kruser said gratefully.

Soroto nodded and pulled the resident Father aside to speak with him in hushed tones. Victor laughed inwardly. To separate the Adjudicator from the group, he had no choice but to reveal his pack of Alchemical Warhounds, and Soroto’s reaction was just as he had expected. However, the Church was destined to find no clues about any dire wolves. Victor had ordered his Alchemical militia to quickly erase all traces and return to the Randell Fief on their own. That forest clearing would soon be occupied by Goblins or Gnolls.

As for how many men the Church would lose exploring the Gloomy Forest, that was none of Victor’s concern. If they were lucky, they might find the Adamantine mine, White crystals, or Kui Root, so it wouldn’t be a complete waste of time—though that depended on luck.

Although giving up the resources of the Gloomy Forest was a bit of a pity, Victor had achieved all his objectives and even awakened a new talent—Activation.

Victor had tested Activation in the Forest Camp. He found that after his Life attribute increased to twenty-six points, the duration of Overlimit, Wind Walk, Super Sense, and Apocalypse had multiplied. Now, Overlimit lasted for seventy minutes, Wind Walk for thirty-five minutes, Super Sense for one hundred minutes, and Apocalypse for fifteen minutes. He could manifest wind element and fire fifteen arrows in a row. Furthermore, using Azure Blade in his Apocalypse state, which he could originally only sustain for twenty-one seconds, now lasted for thirty-eight seconds. Once Victor used Activation, his physique and vigor were fully replenished, and he could use all these abilities again. Under normal circumstances, Activation could be used once every five hours. In a state of Concealment, it could be used once every hour and fifty minutes.

With the Activation talent, Victor’s combat strength and survivability had increased significantly. Unfortunately, after the water element rune was repaired, Victor could no longer use his Internal Vision, and his interaction with the void water element was thus severed.

Victor planned to study the Golden Toad Mystic Form more slowly after returning to his fief. He vaguely felt that he had reached a bottleneck, and that he would need to enter a state of Internal Vision to further purify his Bloodline.

Five days later, after consuming ten cleansing potions, Lucian still failed to become an apprentice knight. The Church’s Sacred Warriors had arrived one after another at Thorn Manor. They built a camp at the edge of the Gloomy Forest and stockpiled supplies. It was said that more clergy were on their way.

For a time, Thorn Manor was abuzz with activity, while Victor, the instigator of it all, had already packed up and left.

Chapter 244: Playing Hard to Get

Blue Goose Keep stood on the shores of Lake Seymour. The 20-meter-wide moat connected to the lake, making the imposing fortress look like a small island from afar.

As the sun set in the west, the dark cyan city walls were reflected in the lake’s water. A dozen blue swans skimmed across the shimmering golden surface, shattering the reflection. Once the elegant waterfowl had flown far away, the picturesque scene of the castle under the blue sky and white clouds reformed on the lake’s surface. Under the slanting rays of the sun, reality and illusion, grandeur and grace, wove together into a beautiful landscape.

Victor had no intention of admiring the magnificent scenery before him. He stood atop a high watchtower, gazing west in the direction of Randell Fief.

From March of last year’s Season of Water to January of this year’s Season of Fire, Victor had traveled for seven months over a thousand kilometers. His journey took him through Black Fortress, the western part of the kingdom, the Royal Capital of Gambia, the Wellington family’s domain in the south-central region, the edge of the Gloomy Forest, and House Sorim’s lands in the south, before finally reaching the last stop on his journey—Blue Goose Keep in Chapman territory.

This long journey had been incredibly fruitful. Victor had basically completed the strategic layout for Bryat’s economic and population corridor, obtained the Rune Crystal from the Gloomy Forest, successfully entered the circle of high nobility, realized the flaws and potential of the X-3, acquired a Sword Saint’s combat technique scroll, obtained the high-yield Spiked Kidney Bean crop, and secured a continuous supply of cheap charcoal. Moreover, his newly awakened Bloodline talent was an unexpected delight.

Randell Fief was just over 50 kilometers west of Blue Goose Keep. Victor knew that once he returned to his family, he would be run off his feet, yet he wished he could sprout wings and fly back immediately to check on his territory and quickly digest all his gains.

“Blue Goose Keep was built 189 years ago and covers an area of four square kilometers. To construct this fortress, our Chapman family exhausted all our savings and still couldn’t complete it. In the end, it was only finished with the full support of House Sorim.” Earl Chepman stood beside Victor, introducing him to the history of Blue Goose Keep.

The leader of the Chapman family was already 74 years old but looked like a man of 30. Barring any accidents, he would maintain his youthful physique for another 50 years.

It was precisely because of this extraordinary form of life that high-rank Knights never considered ordinary people their equals. Even ordinary nobles with a knight’s bloodline did not have the right to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with them. But Victor, whether in terms of strength or Bloodline, was more than enough to earn Earl Chepman’s respect.

Although the Chapman family was one of the first families Victor had dealings with, this was the first time Victor and Earl Chepman had met.

In the beginning, due to the Mithril mine and Purple Cane wine, Victor had been hostile towards both the Chapman family and the York family. Now, however, they shared deep, mutual interests. This ironic shift was not a matter of personal will but a change based on reality.

When Victor was weak, he saw enemies everywhere, but those enemies had never considered him an opponent. Once Victor gained strength, he and his former enemies had a foundation for dialogue as equals. To cling to old grievances at this point and turn potential allies into mortal enemies would be the act of a mad husky.

Only irreconcilable conflicts between lords would lead to a fight to the death. Victor understood this principle deeply. The Chapman family also faced the threat of the Ant-men, making them Victor’s natural allies and powerful support. Chapman territory could completely serve as strategic depth for Randell Fief. For this reason alone, Victor had to show goodwill to Earl Chepman.

“My lord Earl, it seems House Sorim is very supportive of you,” Victor said with a light laugh.

“What I mean to say is that House Sorim cannot be relied upon.” Chapman shook his head and said, “House Sorim occupies the most fertile lands, pastures, and the best mines in the south, but they are constantly threatened by the Forest Centaurs. We, the Chapman family, are their barrier against the Forest Centaurs.”

“Chapman territory spans 18,000 square kilometers, but it only has two water systems. One is the Wildwillow River to the east. The east bank is Marquis Sorim’s domain, while the west bank is our Chapman family’s land, where we have cultivated 700,000 mu of farmland. The other water system is Lake Seymour before us, near which we have cultivated 2.1 million mu of farmland. Yet, these fields are constantly exposed to the iron hooves of the Forest Centaurs.”

“Our farms and pastures are right next to the Centaur Hills, so Blue Goose Keep cannot protect our heartland. House Sorim is the real beneficiary. Only after we had exhausted all our savings did they take over the construction of Blue Goose Keep.”

“For a long time, we, the Chapman family, have acted as House Sorim’s shield, yet we have never received any substantial support. Instead, we have been endlessly exploited by them. The produce from our territory, when transported and sold through Marquis Sorim’s domain, is always taxed by 30 percent. Fortunately, the Forest Centaurs have never invaded human territory, which allowed our Chapman family to survive the most difficult times.”

Victor suddenly understood. Before the migration of the Forest Centaurs, Chapman territory had only two neighbors: House Sorim to the east and Bryat’s fief to the north. However, a mountain range separated them from Bryat’s fief, so large quantities of goods could only be transported through House Sorim’s domain, where they were charged exorbitant taxes.

No wonder the Chapman family was known for its stinginess. It turned out they were scarred by poverty.

Earl Chepman continued, “The Chapman family, the Briatte family, and the two baron families to the east are all shields for House Sorim. Although we all belong to the bloodline of the southern lords, none of us feel any sense of belonging to House Sorim.”

Victor had only recently left the domain of House Sorim. Marquis Sorim had hosted him with great enthusiasm and given him many valuable gifts, including various fine-quality gems and works of art. Overall, House Sorim had left a decent impression on Victor, but there were no particular surprises.

Marquis Sorim’s domain possessed extremely rich mineral deposits, mainly copper and iron ore, as well as two Adamantine mines. Their animal husbandry was very developed, and scrolls made from lambskin were one of House Sorim’s two main pillar industries. Of course, they would not sell either their minerals or their livestock at a low price.

After some polite exchanges, Victor left Marquis Sorim’s domain. The moment he arrived at Blue Goose Keep, Earl Chepman began to speak ill of Marquis Sorim, explicitly pointing out to Victor that House Sorim was not an ideal partner for cooperation.

Earl Chepman’s goal, of course, was not just to complain. In fact, ever since Bryat’s fief fell under Victor’s control, the Chapman family had clearly felt the pressure. From a trade perspective alone, the Chapman family was no longer an indispensable trading partner for Victor, yet they still needed Mithril and potions.

Mithril was very important to Knights, but for Victor, it was a hidden liability. The Chapman family, on the other hand, was set to play an important role in Victor’s plans, though they had yet to realize it. Victor was about to use Mithril to lure Earl Chepman into his trap. He deliberately asked, “Why would House Sorim be so unwise?”

“What else could it be but ambition?” Earl Chepman said mockingly. “House Sorim has the best pastures and an astonishingly large mineral reserve, but they sell their livestock abroad while rarely selling their minerals. They have a mountain range to their north and the Gloomy Forest to their east, which were already natural barriers. Then they made families like ours into their shields. In the eyes of the royal family, House Sorim is trying to build an independent kingdom.”

“The royal family sold a large number of cleansing potions and Vigor Potions to House Sorim at a low price. That generation’s Marquis Sorim was quite pleased with himself. As a result, they created many Knights and apprentice knights. These knights, lacking potential, consumed a vast amount of resources, causing House Sorim’s bloodline to become diluted. Now, they are only supported by two Great Knights, one of whom is a vassal lord.”

As Earl Chepman sneered, he was also secretly relieved. The Earl Chepman of that generation had also wanted to purchase some cleansing potions but simply didn’t have the money. It wasn’t until House Sorim had completely declined that everyone realized it had been a trap set by the royal family. From then on, most lords kept a respectful distance from cleansing potions. This was how the Auguste family showed its subordinate lords that no one could challenge the royal family’s bottom line.

“The Chapman family has four Great Knights. Your strength and potential far exceed that of the current House Sorim,” Victor said flatly. “My lord Earl, are you preparing to replace House Sorim and become the leader of the southern lords?”

The blunt words made Earl Chepman pause. He said slowly, “That’s… not very likely.”

“Exactly!” Victor interjected. “Your territory is remote and has little arable land. It’s fine for self-sufficiency, but if you want to expand your influence, superior military strength alone is not enough. Unless you can advance to a Gold Knight… but Marquis Sorim is already at the peak of the Silver-rank.” Victor shook his head. “Actually, whether a Your Highness emerges among the southern lords doesn’t affect me much. Whether House Sorim rises or falls is also irrelevant to me. All I need is to be able to buy various goods.”

“My lord Earl, most of the livestock and grain you sell me are produce from House Sorim. After you mark up the prices, they aren’t cheap. I can now buy cheaper goods through Wildwillow City, can’t I?”

The tables had turned, yet Earl Chepman asked with complete confidence, “Your Excellency, what do you want from me?”

“Copper ore!” Victor said with a smile. “My lord Earl, you have very rich copper resources here, and you can only sell copper ore.

“Rather than transporting your copper ore through House Sorim, it would be better to sell it directly to me. Of course, I don’t need too much of it. You can also transport your copper ore through my territory to sell in Wildwillow City. I will only charge a small transit tax, which is much better than being exploited by House Sorim.”

“A wonderful suggestion,” Earl Chepman sighed. “Transporting my copper ore through the Centaur Hills is tantamount to declaring to everyone that the Chapman family has defected to the York family. This goes against my principles and leaves me with no way out.”

“Victor, the Mithril mine is our shared secret!” Chapman shook his head and laughed. “At first, I thought it was the York family trading with us. Later, I figured it out. Lady Rose won’t even sell refined iron, so how could she possibly sell Mithril? This is your private affair. The York family knows nothing about it!”

Victor’s pupils contracted. He said coldly, “If you think you can threaten me with this, you are gravely mistaken!”

“How could I be so foolish!” Earl Chepman shrugged and said, “With your current status and position, even if the York family found out the truth, they wouldn’t do anything to you. But they would definitely take over the Mithril mine, and that’s a situation you don’t want to see.”

“What situation?”

Earl Chepman stared into Victor’s eyes and said, “We are the same. We are unwilling to live under someone else’s roof and be manipulated by others!”

Victor sneered, “And I am even less willing to be coerced!”

“That is not my intention!” Earl Chepman waved his hand and said, “The Ant-men are our common threat. If my strength grows, I will surely support you at a critical moment. House Sorim will not!”

Victor said dismissively, “You aren’t even willing to transport copper ore through my territory. How can I believe in your sincerity?”

Earl Chepman was silent for a long time before asking, “Victor, copper has limited uses and low value. What exactly are you planning to do?”

The kingdom and the Church strictly controlled the trade of gold and silver. The control over copper was relatively lax, but privately minting Copper Sols was still a taboo. Therefore, copper ore was also a sensitive commodity. If not used for minting coins, the price of copper was even lower than iron. Currently, the biggest buyer of copper ore was Sophia, who could make a huge profit by selling the copper to the Sasan Empire. Earl Chepman was very worried that Victor might be privately minting coins. If the royal family found out, he would be implicated as well.

“To make money, of course!”

Victor explained, “I have outstanding craftsmen, Baron Schultz has high-quality redwood, and you have abundant copper ore. I plan to open a workshop in Wildwillow City to manufacture redwood carriages with copper plating. It will definitely make a lot of money!”

“There’s no problem for Baron Schultz to transport redwood to Wildwillow City. If you don’t sell me copper, I can only buy it from House Sorim. I’ll still make a profit either way; you just won’t get a piece of it.”

Earl Chepman was instantly conflicted. If he wanted a piece of the pie, he couldn’t transport the copper through House Sorim’s domain. If he transported it through the Centaur Hills, the political signal it sent would most likely displease the royal family, and he had no intention of siding with the York family.

“My lord Earl, take your time to consider it. I guarantee that the Mithril trade will not be affected. But for now, I must return to my room to rest.” Victor gave an elegant bow and turned to leave the tower.

Earl Chepman opened his mouth, watching as Victor’s back disappeared around the bend in the staircase, as if watching countless Gold Sols slip away from him.

Swallowing hard, Earl Chepman muttered to himself, “Gillian, whether or not we can seize this chance to get rich is all up to you now!”

Chapter 245: The Agreement

Blue Goose Keep was actually a small town. Behind its walls lay an area of three square kilometers, and the villa Earl Chepman had arranged for Victor stood at the edge of a pasture.

The two-story wooden building was exquisite, though its furnishings were rather simple. Heavy oak furniture was arranged on the spotless floor, and the walls were bare of any decoration. It was very much in the style of the Chepman family: practical and frugal.

In the villa’s master bedroom, a fine cashmere carpet covered the floor. Four silver candlesticks stood in the corners, and the twenty greenleaf candles, each as thick as a child’s arm, illuminated the room as if it were day. Elina, dressed in a pink spider-silk nightgown and her small, snow-white feet bare, stood behind Victor, gently massaging his temples. Alice, in the same attire, was using a purple copper charcoal stove to brew coffee for him.

Aside from the bedroom itself, the cashmere carpet, silver candlesticks, gold tea set, and coffee were all Victor’s own. The accommodations provided by the Chepman family were inferior even to a high-end inn. Fortunately, Victor’s caravan had brought along many daily necessities, and he had taken it upon himself to rearrange the small bedroom.

In Victor’s view, these so-called luxury goods were worthless if no one used them. The Chepman family’s frugal style could help them weather difficult times, but it could not bring true prosperity.

Habits form character, and Victor knew it would be difficult to change the Chepman family’s way of thinking. If they clung to their old ways, resistant to new things, Victor would have no choice but to abandon this connection through Pine Forest Town and start anew elsewhere. However, Bryat’s fief was set to become a bustling commercial hub, and the diverse crowd there made it a less-than-ideal place to establish a black market for freemen. Thorn Manor was relatively remote, and while the rise of the charcoal industry could attract freemen seeking a livelihood, the place was too far from Randell Fief. Moreover, the Schultz family was somewhat weak and would likely struggle to protect a black market.

As Victor’s mind wandered, Alice brought him the coffee and said in a sweet voice, “Victor, try the coffee I brewed.”

The coffee was fragrant, rich, and smooth. “Excellent,” Victor praised. He took hold of the slender hand on his temple. “And Elina’s massage technique is also outstanding.”

Receiving their lover’s praise, the twin sisters broke into sweet smiles. Their two identical, flower-like grins filled the entire bedroom with the warmth of spring. Victor put down his coffee cup and said with a serious expression, “Still, I hope you will apply your talents to other things.”

“You should both understand that the family lacks people who are literate and skilled in social affairs,” Victor said to them. “I need your help managing the domain more than I need you to be merely attentive companions.”

Elina was gentle and quiet, while her younger sister Alice was relatively more vivacious. She asked, “Darling, what do you want us to do?”

“I plan to have Elina manage Silver Moon Manor. Alice, you will be responsible for the trade between our family and Wildwillow City,” Victor stated.

The sisters exchanged a look. Elina nodded in acceptance, but Alice gathered her courage and said, “I’m afraid I won’t do a good job. I don’t know anything about trade.”

“If you don’t know, then learn. Who is born knowing how to do business?” Victor waved his hand and said, “Lilia didn’t know anything at first either, and now she can manage things on her own. Do you think you’re any less capable than her?”

Alice pursed her lips and said, “You’ll have to teach me. And I’ll need people to help.” Elina also added softly, “Darling, I’ll need people too.”

Victor smiled. He didn’t want to incite the sisters to compete with Lilia, but power had to be kept in check. Unrestricted power would send Narsen’s family into an abyss, a result Victor did not wish to see.

“Elina, Alice, you will select people from among the children of our subjects. Train them according to the York family’s methods for raising attendants, and make them into qualified family retainers…”

As he was speaking, the tap, tap of high heels on the floorboards echoed from downstairs. A moment later, the wooden door to the bedroom was pushed open directly by the Young Lady of the Chepman family.

Gillian wore a white fine linen shirt, and her tight riding breeches outlined a pair of breathtakingly long legs. A pair of long, high-heeled leather boots made her proud figure seem even taller and more upright. Her ear-length bob of hair gave her a capable air, her phoenix eyes always held an arrogant confidence, and her full, red lips made the cold and stunning female knight appear alluringly beautiful.

Victor was momentarily dazed. The short hair, the shirt, the high-heeled boots—it was as if a stylish city woman was standing in the doorway, and a long-lost sense of familiarity washed over him.

Gillian swept her icy gaze around the room, lifted her chin, and said haughtily, “You two, out!”

The Elina sisters glanced at the stunned Victor, shared a smile, and left the bedroom hand-in-hand, conveniently closing the door behind them.

The sound of the closing door brought Victor back to his senses. He saw Gillian walk straight to a candlestick. “Lighting so many candles? What a waste!”

“Young Lady, these candles are all mine,” Victor reminded her lazily.

Gillian, who had been about to extinguish a candle, immediately stopped. She said casually, “In such a dark room, why don’t you light a few more?”

“…” Victor was silent for a moment before asking, “Are you here to talk to me about the copper trade?”

Gillian reluctantly pulled her gaze away from the silver candlesticks and turned to say, “No! I’m here to repay your favor.”

“A favor?” Victor asked, baffled. “Do you owe me a favor?”

Gillian crossed her arms and took two steps forward. “You saved me,” she said.

“It was nothing. You don’t need to concern yourself with it.” Victor stood up involuntarily. Gillian had already walked right up to him, and her towering presence, looking down at him, made him very uncomfortable.

“I am very concerned.” Gillian was almost pressing against Victor. She bit her lip and said, “You saved Phoenix, and she became your lover. You saved Judy, and she also became your lover. You saved me. Am I the kind of person who would forsake a debt of gratitude?”

“Gillian, you’re different from them. I can’t give you what you want,” Victor said, unable to stop himself from taking a step back.

He admitted that the beauty before him held a great attraction, but Gillian was Earl Chepman’s heir. She would eventually inherit her family, marry, and bear children. Victor felt that getting involved with Gillian would only lead to awkwardness for them both. That being the case, it was better to maintain a purely cooperative relationship.

Thud.

Gillian pushed Victor down onto the bed…

The next morning, Victor opened his eyes to see Gillian’s beautiful face. The beauty in his arms had not yet awakened. He gently withdrew his arm from the female knight’s embrace, but the slight movement instantly roused her.

Their eyes met, and both felt a strange emotion welling up in their hearts.

Victor was usually unwilling to be in close contact with unfamiliar knights—even with Sophia, he would maintain a distance of fifty centimeters—but he didn’t reject Gillian. Perhaps it was because Gillian had once shown him her most vulnerable side, and the trust between them had started to build from that moment, eventually leading them to this point.

After a sweet, passionate kiss, Gillian climbed off Victor, quickly gathering the clothes from the floor to cover her infinitely beautiful body. Once she was fully dressed, the demure woman of the previous night had once again transformed into the cold, noble female knight.

“Listen, I want all the benefits I’m entitled to!” Gillian said, shooting a sideways glance at Victor, who was getting dressed.

“What benefits?” Victor asked, looking blank.

“You built a manor for Phoenix, and a manor for Judy. What about me?” Gillian cupped Victor’s face, forcing him to look her in the eye, her posture making it clear she wouldn’t let go until he agreed.

“No problem.” Victor wrapped an arm around Gillian’s slender waist and smiled. “You choose the location, and I’ll be responsible for building it. That should be fine, right?”

“Hmph. You gave Lady Rose a fief. I won’t compare myself to her for now, but I am a Silver Knight, after all. My manor must be the largest and most luxurious. Things like these silver candlesticks, every room must have them! And silver tableware… In short, the manor’s interior decorations must befit my status!” Gillian took the opportunity to list a series of demands.

Victor was dumbfounded. After a moment, he asked, “You know about me buying the fief?”

“You don’t? It’s the talk of the town now.” Gillian’s eyes shone, and even her breathing grew ragged.

Gillian’s tender gaze made Victor’s scalp tingle. She wasn’t looking at a lover, but at a sucker. Victor instantly came to his senses and knew he couldn’t easily agree to her demands.

“I can build the manor. I can even build two for you. But I have no money,” Victor said with a woeful expression.

“Hmph!” Gillian snorted. “What about all your silver ore?”

Victor looked at her for a long moment, then shook his head and laughed in spite of himself. “Even if I filled the manor with silverware, you’d just find a way to sell it, wouldn’t you? Don’t forget, silver is a sensitive commodity. It would attract a great deal of trouble!”

“Besides,” Victor added lightly, “your future husband might not like silverware made by me.”

Gillian’s eyes widened at Victor, and then she let out a string of triumphant laughter. “Heh, heh, heh… Are you jealous?”

Victor awkwardly touched his nose in tacit agreement. Gillian laughed even louder, leaning on Victor’s shoulder as she gasped for breath. “You’re actually jealous!”

Victor was starting to feel a mix of shame and annoyance. Just as he was about to retort, Gillian’s next words softened his heart.

“I’m very happy.” Gillian held up two fingers in front of Victor’s nose and wiggled them.

“Twenty years.”

“What?”

“I am twenty-six this year. If you can have me bear the family heir within twenty years, I won’t get married,” Gillian said seriously.

Victor frowned, only now remembering that the reputation of his bloodline had spread far and wide. He hadn’t been bothered during his journey, but he hadn’t expected the Chepman family to have their sights set on him.

“If I don’t give birth to an heir within twenty years, I will have no choice but to find another partner. If you don’t want to lose me, you’d better put more effort into me,” Gillian said softly, reaching out to caress Victor’s cheek.

Victor let out a breath. No one could say for sure what the future held, but Gillian bore the heavy responsibility of continuing her family line. Her words were no joke. If they had no children, they would inevitably have to part ways. However, before breaking up with Victor, Gillian could not find another partner.

Male nobles could have multiple lovers at once, but a female noble could only have one partner at a time, and not even the Queen of Sus was an exception. This had nothing to do with fidelity and everything to do with the need to preserve the bloodline.

Unwilling to make rash promises, Victor could only say, “I have to head back today.”

“Mm, you can go then.” Gillian nodded nonchalantly, then added, “You’re not allowed to take anything from this room! It’s all mine!”

Victor nearly spat blood. “Is that all you have to say?”

“Say about what? Isn’t the Mithril a normal transaction?” Gillian asked, puzzled. Then she looked at Victor coolly. “You’re not going to change your mind, are you?”

“What about the copper trade?” Victor had to remind her.

“Forget the copper,” Gillian said, shaking her head. “We are southern lords. If we openly associate with you, what will the other lords think of us?”

“So the Chepman family still hasn’t given up on a seat in the Senate,” Victor said sarcastically. “Don’t forget, even if House Sorim has declined, their castle is still standing, and their geographical advantages are not something you can compare to. If you don’t find another trade route, you’ll continue to be bled dry by them.”

The Chepman family was the most powerful among the southern lords. If they were to openly abandon the trade route through Marquess Sorim’s domain, it would be a declaration that they no longer considered House Sorim their suzerain, and the southern lord alliance would immediately fracture. The Chepman family did not want to see the various noble families scatter; they wanted to become the leader of the southern lords’ lineage!

Victor’s proposal did not align with the Chepman family’s strategic vision. Gillian stated flatly, “House Sorim’s bloodline is mixed; Marquess Sorim doesn’t dare risk advancing to Gold Knight. The southern lords are currently arranging political marriages with our Chepman family. Before long, House Sorim will splinter from within. The Royal Family doesn’t want to see the southern lords siding with the Wellington family, or your York family. With the Royal Family’s support, why can’t we obtain their domain? Why can’t we become the leader of the southern lords?”

Victor decisively dropped the subject and changed tack. “Alright. Let’s talk about making money… You won’t need to openly transport copper from the Centaur Hills, and I can still make you rich!”

“How?” Gillian asked, her interest piqued.

“Smuggling! Just like in Pine Forest Town. Let freemen form caravans and secretly transport the copper to Wildwillow City.”

“Copper is a bulk commodity! It’s not like Mithril or Adamantine that you can carry in your pocket!” Gillian exclaimed.

“With me providing cover, what are you afraid of? Just use wagons!” Victor declared, thumping his chest with confidence.

Gillian gave Victor a suspicious look. “Copper doesn’t sell for much, and you don’t need that much for copper-plated carriages. What are you really up to?”

Victor realized he had been too eager. He sighed. “Forget it if you’re not willing.”

“Who said I’m not willing?” Gillian thought for a moment and said, “We will only be responsible for transporting the copper to Pine Forest Town. You’ll have to handle the rest yourself.”

“Darling, as you wish.” Victor was overjoyed. Once they got a taste of the profits from smuggling, the Chepman family wouldn’t be able to stop. To continue the copper trade, they would have to protect the smugglers. With the Chepman family’s covert protection, the black market hub at Pine Forest Town would be secure.

Gillian once again held up two fingers to Victor.

“I know, twenty years.” Victor nodded repeatedly. “I’ll do my best, darling.”

“What twenty years! It’s two manors!” the Young Lady of the Chepman family sneered. “Darling, you just promised you’d build me two manors. You haven’t forgotten already, have you?”

Chapter 246: An Inherent Weakness

The Randell Fief’s first stream reservoir was situated in a low-lying area in the southern part of the territory. This place had once been a dense Purple Cane forest, but after the Ant-man army devoured every last stalk, the fertile land became overgrown with wild alfalfa, transforming it into a natural pasture.

Thousands of cattle and sheep leisurely grazed on the tender, plump alfalfa. The abundant food made them all fat and robust. Some of the pickier, more agile ones had even climbed the mounds, searching for more delectable shoots.

The herdsmen didn’t bother chasing these mischievous and bold animals. Before nightfall, the intelligent sheepdogs would herd them back down. Even if a few slipped through the cracks, it didn’t matter. There were no dangerous wild beasts here; spending the night on the hills was no different from spending it on the grasslands.

Victor paid no mind to how many cattle or sheep he possessed; his entire attention was captivated by the sparkling lake.

This man-made lake covered an area of forty-five mu, larger than four football fields combined. The surface of the water shimmered, and a cool, moist breeze washed over them, alleviating the heat of the Season of Fire. Victor couldn’t help but praise, “How beautiful!”

“Beautiful?”

Lilia glanced at the piles of earth by the lakeside and the chaotically arranged shanties, blinking in puzzlement. Victor let out a hearty laugh, and under the watchful eyes of all present, he pulled Lilia into his arms and planted a kiss on her tender cheek.

“I mean, the work you’ve done is beautiful!”

Her face flushing scarlet, Lilia whispered, “Victor, I’m sorry. The castle isn’t finished yet. I’ve let you down.”

Two days prior, Victor had returned to the Centaur Hills. He didn’t rush back to Laketon, choosing instead to visit Nicole first.

Nicole was Victor’s first true love and the woman who loved him most in this world. Victor always felt he owed her a great deal.

Although their fiefs were adjacent, their time together was limited. Nicole had to monitor the entrance to the Great Marsh; if she were to leave her barony for an extended period, the more than ten thousand laborers would grow anxious. The House of Randell was also in a phase of rapid development, its administrative system still incomplete, and many matters required Victor’s personal attention.

Therefore, Victor chose to visit Nicole first. It was not just to whisper sweet nothings to each other; the main canal connecting to the Goldwater River was also a core interest of the Randell Fief, and the ten-thousand-plus laborers could not be allowed to fall into chaos. For both public and private reasons, Victor had to concern himself with the project’s progress.

The barony’s development was even better than Victor had anticipated. In the past seven months, the York family had sent over another three thousand people, increasing the number of able-bodied men to eleven thousand. Three kilometers of the main canal had already been dug, and in another three or four months, it would likely connect to the reservoir.

In terms of agriculture, the barony had planted ten thousand mu of ground-potatoes, established seven pig farms with over three thousand pigs, and raised more than a thousand heads of cattle and sheep. This greatly eased the logistical pressure on the York family, and Victor benefited as well. The Randell family’s monthly expenditure on relief aid for the laborers’ families had been reduced from nine hundred Gold Sols to six hundred.

Victor spent a day by Nicole’s side before Lilia arrived with the family’s senior leaders to welcome him. After a reluctant farewell to Nicole, Victor set off on his journey back to Laketon. Along the way, he saw the first stream reservoir.

From Lilia, he learned that in the past 272 days, the Randell Fief had dug four stream reservoirs, and a fifth was underway. The first and second reservoirs were already full. After the Season of Earth arrived, Nicole had dispatched ten thousand able-bodied men in batches to return to work on the main canal. As a result, the fifth reservoir was being constructed solely by the House of Randell and was still being excavated.

Before he left, Victor had tasked Lilia with building five stream reservoirs and a a castle. However, due to a shortage of manpower, the castle in Laketon would require another two months to complete. Lilia blamed herself for failing to complete the task.

“My dear Lilia, you’ve done an outstanding job! It was I who didn’t think things through well enough.” Victor gave Lilia a gentle hug, then turned to the surrounding village heads and the Narsens. “You’ve all worked hard. I’m very satisfied with your results!”

The farmers of this other world were generally strong, capable of carrying loads of several hundred pounds while still moving with speed. But the reservoir project was not as simple as having tens of thousands of people digging and hauling dirt together. The coordination, logistical supply, housing, and even injury compensation and medical care for over ten thousand able-bodied men all had to be properly arranged.

The results Lilia had achieved were a testament to her ability, but the responsibility and pressure she shouldered were something an ordinary person could hardly comprehend. Victor could imagine Lilia directing the project in the cold rain, settling the people into their homes. Just by looking at the heartfelt respect from the village heads, he could tell that Lilia’s status in the hearts of the subjects had already surpassed Narsen’s, making her the second-in-command of the family.

Now, Lilia constantly exuded a calm and noble aura. Even though her looks couldn’t compare to the Elina sisters, they still unconsciously held a posture of looking up to her in her presence.

This was the dignity and confidence that power and success had brought Lilia. The twenty-one-year-old mercenary girl had already become Victor’s capable right hand.

“It’s the Season of Fire, and the reservoir shows no signs of drying up.” Victor nodded in satisfaction and smiled. “With this stream reservoir, we can reclaim fifteen thousand mu of arable land, settle one thousand people, and help me control four hundred square kilometers of territory. If the canal is completed, the population and arable land will double. It seems I will need more village heads!”

The village heads nodded repeatedly. Village Head Moline of the First Village smiled and said, “My lord, you are truly wise. We’re already overwhelmed with work.”

“If you’re all so overwhelmed, does that mean I won’t even have time to rest?” Victor shook his head and chuckled.

The affairs of the Randell Fief were not limited to internal administration and the reservoir project. Iron Hammer’s Warhammer Mercenary Company had returned, Barol of Quicksilver was also back, matters concerning Bryat’s fief needed to be settled, the smuggling caravan in Pine Forest Town had to be arranged, the problem of repairing the Alchemy Tower had to be solved, Sylvia was waiting for a meeting, and he also had to check in on the distant Raven Town in the north. Victor was bound to be swamped.

“Let’s go! We’ll head back to Laketon first, and on the way, you can tell me about the problems you’ve encountered.” Victor took a deep breath and boarded the carriage, his spirits high.

Upon arriving in Laketon, Victor saw many people busy building the castle. He didn’t have time to ask the foreman about the progress and went straight to the municipal office.

Victor scanned the number of people attending the meeting. There were still fourteen of them: Lilia, Guard Captain Narsen, magistrate Linda, Instructor Baritt, Village Head Moline of the First Village, George of the Second Village, Dean, head of Brick Kiln Village, Fero of the Third Village, Hager of the Fourth Village, Kent of the Fifth Village, and Bansen of the Sixth Village. Butz and Old Ham from Raven Town were absent, but Elina and Alice were now present.

The current core of the House of Randell consisted of merely these dozen or so people. Compared to the assorted stewards and managers of other lords, Victor’s staff could only be described as thin.

For instance, Duke Wellington had a Steward, an Intendant, a Scribe, a Garrison Commander, a magistrate, a Military Affairs Officer, a team of advisors, a Guard Captain, a Captain of the Personal Guard, and a herald. As for the Caravan Master, Master of the Hunt, Supervisor of Agriculture and Husbandry, Workshop Supervisor, not to mention the Stable Master, Mill Supervisor, and all the various town mayors and village heads, there were too many to count. Faced with this, Victor felt nothing but envy.

However, even Victor himself, the lord, had been pushed into a role he wasn’t ready for. All he could do was lead this flock of ducks and try to make something of it.

“Let’s begin.”

Lilia nodded, took out a parchment scroll, and began to read, “Currently, we have one thousand nine hundred and twenty-five cattle…”

“Wait.” Victor raised a hand, signaling for Lilia to stop. “I know the family’s livestock numbers are growing. Save the surprise for the harvest festival. Today, I want to hear about the problems and difficulties the family is facing.”

“We’re short-staffed.” Lilia sighed, putting down the scroll. “Another three thousand or so refugees have entered the Randell Fief recently. The population under our control has now reached over twelve thousand. Although we have the capacity for more, these people have brought many administrative problems. Those who arrived later didn’t receive private plots, so they began to conspire, cause trouble, and even petitioned Father Miller, demanding higher wages.”

Victor’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What was Father Miller’s attitude?”

“Father Miller advised them to behave themselves.”

A relaxed smile appeared on Victor’s face. “Continue.”

“I sentenced the ringleaders to two years of hard labor, sending them to dig the canal. Some people left when they realized there were no private plots to be had and the wages were low. In the end, over two thousand one hundred people stayed, but not all of them necessarily want to join the Randell Fief. Some among them are slacking off, have poor hygiene, and even hunt illegally.”

“Drive those people out of the territory. Those who refuse to leave will all be sentenced to two years of hard labor!” Victor said frostily.

“That’s what I did. But it doesn’t seem to have much effect.” Lilia said with a wry smile, “The people who came after them have the same problems.”

Victor’s eyes flickered for a moment, and he asked, “Then what are your thoughts?”

“I need more people to manage the refugees.” Lilia said hesitantly, “I’ve now employed many of the female relatives of the work point system members, but we’re still short-staffed…”

Narsen raised his hand and said, “My lord, I’m short on people too. Two hundred and fifty guards plus fifty militia members can no longer control the fief’s borders. Every day, people sneak into the Randell Fief for poaching and illegal gathering. We have to escort and drive them away, all while maintaining our outposts and patrols… My lord, I request more men.”

Victor rubbed his forehead. There were nearly a thousand members in the work point system, divided into over 280 families. Narsen had recruited 250 young guards from them, and with the addition of 50 Alchemical militia, this was already the limit of the fief’s capacity. When Narsen spoke of increasing his manpower, he definitely wasn’t talking about recruiting guards from among the freemen; he had his eyes on the Alchemical militia. But Victor only had one thousand Alchemical militia. They still had to control the vast mountainous regions, so there weren’t many he could spare. Besides, using Alchemical militia as guards was only a temporary solution and couldn’t solve the fundamental problem.

The number of refugees joining the Randell Fief would only increase. Even if Victor used all his Alchemical militia to control the situation, how long could that last? It was over ten thousand people now, but what about when the population reached twenty thousand? According to Victor’s plan, the fief needed to accommodate over forty thousand people. What would he do then?

The current plight of the House of Randell was due to an inherent weakness—a severe lack of loyal and capable vassals!

Victor sighed, and said listlessly, “Are there any other problems? Tell me all of them at once!”

Linda quickly spoke up, “My lord, during this period, there have been over a hundred brawls, thirty-four thefts, and eleven murders, resulting in eighteen deaths. Seven of the bodies were buried before we dug them up. I need more people too!”

Victor noticed Linda’s belly, round as a drum, and smiled. “Narsen, Linda, you’re about to become parents. I haven’t congratulated you yet.”

Hearing this, Linda became a little bashful, while Narsen chuckled foolishly. “Two more months. Father Miller says it’s twins… Heh heh…” He was secretly pinched by Linda.

Lilia interjected, “Victor, there are also over a thousand pregnant women in the fief. Father Miller is overwhelmed. I’ve organized a medical team as you instructed, but there are only seventy-four people. The other women are busy cooking for the able-bodied men.”

“I know you’re short on people. Can you let me solve the public order problem first?” Victor shook his head, then asked Linda, “Have all the murderers been caught?”

“They are all locked up in the dungeon.”

During the day, alchemical crows circled the skies of the Randell Fief, and at night, Alchemical Warhounds patrolled the wilds. Those murderers who thought they could get away with killing and burying the bodies had truly picked the wrong place!

Victor said with a smile, “Have you become soft-hearted now that you’re about to be a mother? Where did the Linda who once cut down villains with her sword go?”

Linda’s face flushed red, and she said resentfully, “I’d love to chop off those scoundrels’ heads… but that is your prerogative! And it also requires Father Miller’s approval.”

“It’s good that you can think that way!” Victor fell silent for a moment, then said flatly, “I will sign the execution orders. I will do my best to persuade Father Miller. These villains who dared to challenge me must be publicly executed!”

“Moline, what problems have you village heads encountered?”

The village heads looked at each other, and Moline stood up to answer, “My lord, things are fairly good in the villages, no major problems.”

“Fairly good?” Victor said with a cold smile, “Lilia has encountered so many problems, yet your villages have none? I think you’ve compromised with the outsiders, haven’t you?!”

The village heads all stood up, saying in alarm, “Please punish us, my lord!”

Victor waved his hand, signaling them to sit down. When there are too few police, public order descends into chaos; when there are too few soldiers, the nation becomes unstable. This is because an insufficient force to maintain order leads to the establishment of a new order. Humans are social animals; everyone wants to occupy a higher position within a group. When they discovered that the Randell Fief’s magistrate and guard detachment were short-staffed, it was inevitable that they would get restless. They established their own status through private disputes, then tried to squeeze into the mid-level leadership of the Randell Fief. The murders, brawls, poaching, and incitement of riots all stemmed from this.

The power in the village heads’ hands was relatively weak, making them unable to suppress the struggles among the refugees. Instead, they would sit on the mountain and watch the tigers fight, waiting for a strongman to emerge from the refugees whom they could then recruit as their own enforcer. As for the lord, he wouldn’t care how the village heads managed their villages, as long as they paid their tribute on time.

Under the feudal system, every village head was a petty tyrant.

Although Moline and the others had been promoted by Victor, they were natives after all and would only govern their villages according to the old customs of village heads. If Victor were truly a native lord, there would be no problem with their actions. But Victor looked down on the inefficient feudal system. He wanted complete control over the manpower and resources in his fief. Whether the Randell Fief had ten thousand or one hundred thousand people, they all had to live and prosper under the rules he set.

Lilia and Narsen might not have understood the grand principles, but they loyally carried out Victor’s will. In this process, the War Bear mercenaries were gradually transforming, drawing ever closer to Victor. One day, they would secure high positions in the new order.

However, distant water can’t put out a nearby fire. Before the War Bear mercenaries grew strong enough, Victor still faced the dilemma of a manpower shortage. At this moment, Victor really wanted to eliminate all these troublemaking refugees. However, a lord’s violence couldn’t solve all problems—that’s because his violence wasn’t yet strong enough. With Victor’s current power, he couldn’t establish a new order. If he started killing villains until heads rolled, it wouldn’t be long before Lilia could only visit him at a monastery.

Victor could only solve problems within the framework of the Radiant Code. But at this moment, he thought of the Alchemy Tower—a power sufficient to overthrow the Radiant Code.

“Let’s set these problems aside for now. Everyone, go back to your work,” Victor ordered, feeling disheartened.

After everyone had left the meeting room, Victor called Lilia to stay.

“My dear, wait for me at Silver Moon Manor. I’m going to Hill Camp first.”

Chapter 247: Destiny’s Turning Point

The Hill Camp was a restricted area in the Randell Fief. It was heavily guarded; a ten-meter-high wall blocked all prying eyes, and two squads of Elite Soldiers patrolled its perimeter without rest. Anyone who approached the Hill Camp would be driven away, and members of the work point system were no exception.

In truth, the members of the work point system, including the Village head, knew that the family’s weapons workshop and brewery were inside the Hill Camp. The all-important production processes for Snow Sugar and coffee were also behind those walls. The guards and artisans of the Hill Camp were all Mountain folk rescued by Narsen. They had once stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the lord against the Ant-man army, defending the family’s territory, and thus had earned the lord’s deep trust.

Only a select few knew that these soldiers and artisans were elites secretly trained by the Wimbledon family, and that Victor was the true heir of this ancient family.

But this was all a facade deliberately created by Victor. No one knew that his greatest secret was hidden within the Hill Camp.

Night enveloped the entire Hill Camp. Victor was currently conversing with the Tower Spirit.

“King, report on the Alchemy Tower’s status.”

“My lord, the Alchemy Tower currently has 147 Crouching Ox Militiamen, 848 Lithe Ape militiamen, 183 auxiliary soldiers, 62 Warhounds, and 195 alchemical crows. The tower’s Soul Fire limit is 12,380, with 707 available Soul Fire. Remaining resources: 90,075 Gold Sol.”

“I must remind you, my lord, that the Alchemy Tower has reclaimed 103 points of Soul Fire during this period. Based on my analysis, you have lost a total of eight militiamen, five Warhounds, and eleven alchemical crows. Additionally, another 89 alchemical crows will be reclaimed within the next three months.”

Victor frowned. The lifespan of an alchemical crow was only two years, so it was not surprising that nearly a hundred of them were approaching the end of their lives. The very first alchemical crow, Blackfeather, had already died of natural causes. If all these lost alchemical creatures were converted into gold coins, they would be worth nearly nineteen thousand Gold Sol, and the Alchemy Tower’s financial reserves were now depleted. This made Victor realize that if he wanted to create more alchemical creatures, he would have to spend real gold and silver.

Although Victor had a huge stockpile of supplies, these materials could not be converted into wealth without being circulated. For example, the Alchemy Tower only recognized his privately minted silver coins as being worth half a Copper Sol. Therefore, Victor needed to earn money to sustain the Alchemy Tower’s consumption. Until he was making a fortune daily, he could not afford any major losses among his alchemical creatures!

However, the most pressing task was to first repair the Alchemy Tower’s manufacturing functions.

Four-element runes emerged from Victor’s hands, and their magnificent light instantly illuminated the entire cave. “King, I have obtained the Rune Crystal from the Gloomy Forest.”

“Congratulations, my lord.”

The consciousness conveyed by King was devoid of any emotional fluctuation. This, in turn, made Victor hesitate. “We can repair the Alchemy Tower now. Aren’t you happy?”

“My lord, obeying your will is my sole mission.”

Victor pondered for a moment, then asked in his mind, “King, will integrating the Rune Crystal have any adverse effects on the Alchemy Tower? You must give me a definitive answer!”

“My lord, according to the records on my Will Side, integrating a Rune Crystal will not cause any damage to the Alchemy Tower. It will only result in beneficial changes.”

Victor took a deep breath and ordered, “Begin!”

The Element Extraction Altar automatically split into numerous stone blocks. The dreamlike Rune Crystal levitated in the center. Drawn by its pull, the four-element runes gradually slipped from Victor’s control and began to slowly revolve around the Rune Crystal. Red, yellow, blue, and green lights intertwined and spun, casting a fantastical, water-like ripple of color across the cave.

The four-element runes spun faster and faster, finally merging into the Rune Crystal. The crystal instantly emitted a dazzling light, then gradually dimmed. But Victor noticed that the Rune Crystal’s luster was now brighter and more profound than before, like the difference between candlelight and starlight.

A moment later, King’s voice rang in Victor’s consciousness. “My lord, I have read the residual information in the Rune Crystal. Do you wish to hear it?”

“Oh?!” Victor’s eyes lit up. “Let’s hear it!” he responded.

“My lord, this was an Alchemy Tower for manufacturing military units, but it is severely incomplete. Only the basic information for two alchemical creatures remains.”

“Dragon Warrior: a humanoid alchemical combat unit. Physique 20, Spirit 30, Perception 20, Life 5. Can be equipped with 6 skills, has a lifespan of 20 years, standard manufacturing time of 360 hours, and a cost of 150,000 Gold Sol.”

“It doesn’t seem that powerful. Does it have any special features?”

Victor had already confirmed that the Spirit attribute corresponded to Soul Fire intensity, which played a decisive role in the operation of the Will Side, manifesting as command over oneself. In simple terms, the stronger a creature’s soul, the more it could push its own abilities to their limits. The Ant-man chief, for example, had a Spirit attribute of 30, allowing it to simultaneously control several hundred Ant-men in coordinated battle as if they were its own limbs.

The Dragon Warrior also had a Spirit attribute of 30, but its Physique and Perception were unremarkable, even inferior to a Alchemical Dragon-Lizard. The Physique attribute represented the upper limit of force a body could withstand. Even if a Dragon Warrior pushed its strength to the absolute limit, it would be impossible for it to surpass the level of a Great Knight. It was like fitting a common carriage with the engine of a war machine; the result of running at full power would be complete disintegration.

Although a Dragon Warrior could be equipped with six skills and had a lifespan of twenty years, it hardly seemed worth the price of one hundred fifty thousand Gold Sol.

As expected, King continued, “The Dragon Warrior simulates a Dragon’s Bloodline and can transform into a Half-dragon form and a Dragon-beast form.”

“Half-dragon form: The Dragon Warrior’s eyes become slitted pupils, but its other features remain unchanged. Physique 35, Spirit 30, Perception 25, Life 5. In this form, the Dragon Warrior possesses Lightning Reflexes, Dynamic Vision, Elemental Resistance, Dragon’s Rage, and Dragon Breath, five abilities. The Half-dragon form can be activated once every 6 hours and lasts for 50 minutes.”

“Elemental Resistance: The Dragon Warrior can resist 20% of elemental damage.”

“Dragon’s Rage: The Dragon Warrior’s body grows nigh-impenetrable scale armor. Its strength and speed increase by 30%, Elemental Resistance increases to 30%, the power and range of its Dragon Breath increase by 30%, and it becomes immune to poison, Soul Oppression, curses, and Elemental Stasis effects. Dragon’s Rage lasts for 20 minutes, and each use shortens the Dragon Warrior’s lifespan by 100 days.”

“Dragon Breath: In its Half-dragon form, the Dragon Warrior can simulate the breath attacks of the four types of giant Dragons based on its bloodline, but can only use it once. Green Dragon Bloodline: Poison Breath, inflicting poison, acid, decay, and wither effects in a conical area within 30 meters. Blue Dragon Bloodline: Lightning Breath, inflicting electric shock and paralysis on a single enemy within 200 meters. Red Dragon Bloodline: Flame Breath, inflicting continuous burning damage in a circular area with a 2-meter diameter within 50 meters. Yellow Dragon Bloodline has no breath attack, but can create a force field domain with a 4-meter radius, where all objects experience an additional 0.2 times gravity for 8 seconds.”

“Dragon-beast form: The Dragon Warrior completely loses its humanoid shape, transforming into a Dragon-beast 7 meters long and 2.6 meters tall. Physique 42, Spirit 30, Perception 18, Life 5. The Dragon-beast’s roar and gaze can inflict Soul Oppression on weaker creatures. In this form, Elemental Resistance is increased by 100%, the effects and duration of Dragon’s Rage are increased by 100%, and the effect and range of Dragon Breath are increased by 100%. It can use its breath attack once every 5 minutes.”

“The Dragon-beast form lasts for 80 minutes, after which the Dragon Warrior dies.”

A bitter taste filled Victor’s mouth. The Dragon Warrior was fatally expensive and absurdly powerful. The unfathomable strength of the Néier Empire was evident, and the enemies of this ancient empire were even more difficult to imagine.

“King, what exactly is the effect of Soul Oppression?” Victor asked.

“There is no related information.”

“Alright.” Victor shook his head helplessly. “Since the Dragon-beast can inflict Soul Oppression on weaker creatures, that means Soul Oppression is an effect high-level creatures have on weaker ones. And the fact that the Dragon Warrior needs immunity to Soul Oppression means its opponents were likely extremely powerful! I imagine the Dragon-beast is no match for a true Dragon, which means the Alchemical Empire’s enemies included creatures at least at the level of Dragons.”

“That is logical,” King responded.

“Good thing they’re all extinct, right?” Victor asked dryly.

“There is no related information, but based on human history, your assessment can be largely confirmed.”

Victor composed himself, let out a deep breath, and said, “What about the other alchemical creature?”

“Savi Warrior: A non-humanoid form using a Goatman template. Height of 2.4 meters, weight of 380 pounds. Physique 22, Spirit 2, Perception 10, Life 2. Can be equipped with 2 skills, has a lifespan of 4 years, standard manufacturing time of 5 hours, and a cost of 15,000 Gold Sol.”

“The Savi Warrior possesses four talents: Herbivorous, Superhuman Stamina, Stupidity, and Burst.”

“Herbivorous: The Savi Warrior has a 95% absorption efficiency for most plants and can assimilate their special properties, such as toxicity, paralysis, stimulation, antidote, hemostasis, and so on.”

“Superhuman Stamina: The Savi Warrior is very strong with extremely tough bones. It can carry loads of 2000 pounds or pull vehicles weighing 5000 pounds, and travel continuously at a speed of 25 kilometers per hour for 72 hours.”

“Stupidity: The Savi Warrior has low intelligence and is immune to Soul Oppression.”

“Burst: The Savi Warrior possesses three hearts. It can unleash triple its normal strength for 15 minutes, with a cooldown of 8 hours. If the Savi Warrior eats suitable herbs, the effects and cooldown of Burst will change accordingly.”

Compared to the Dragon Warrior, the Savi Warrior was undoubtedly weak. But they were cheap, fast to produce, consumed little Soul Fire, could survive on grass, came with their own herbal buffs, and had incredible stamina. They were perfect heavy-duty supply troops and cannon fodder. When a horde of Savi Warriors activated Burst to triple their strength and charged howling at the enemy, the sight would be something to behold. The immunity to Soul Oppression once again indicated that the Alchemical Empire’s enemies included many high-level creatures, to the point that the alchemists were willing to make the Savi Warrior feeble-minded. But none of this was what Victor was focusing on!

The Savi Warrior used a Goatman template and had three hearts. The Goat-Headed Monsters in the Gloomy Forest closely resembled Goatmen and also had three hearts. Their bones were also incredibly hard; the Alchemical militia had expended great effort just to remove a Goat-Headed Monster’s horns.

What was the connection between these two creatures? A chill ran down Victor’s spine just thinking about it.

“King, I found creatures in the Gloomy Forest similar to the Savi Warrior! You told me alchemical creatures cannot reproduce!”

“My lord, the information on my Will Side is clear: alchemical creatures cannot reproduce!”

Victor’s expression flickered. The inability of alchemical creatures to reproduce was a setting of the Alchemy Tower. If they could bear offspring, it would mean they could escape the tower’s control! The existence of two suspicious species, the Ant-men and the Goat-Headed Monsters, suggested that the Alchemy Tower might not be reliable. Regardless of whether there was a causal link between the fall of the Néier Empire and its alchemical creatures, Victor’s own forces now faced an unknown variable. King’s knowledge was limited, leaving Victor powerless to do anything about it.

Victor suddenly recalled the abundant void water element and the dim water-element rune in the Gloomy Forest. He asked, “King, the Alchemy Tower was built at a nexus of the four elements. If—and I’m just saying if—the four elements here were to become imbalanced, what would happen to the Alchemy Tower?”

“My lord, a nexus of the four elements is the foundation of the Alchemy Tower’s existence. I have no answer to your hypothetical question.”

If the alchemical system of the Néier Empire were a towering tree, then Alchemy Tower No. 7 was merely a single leaf. One could not deduce the full form of the tree from a single leaf.

Victor sighed and instructed, “Is there any other information? If not, then hurry up and repair the Alchemy Tower.”

“There is no other information. My lord, you must now specify which functions of the Alchemy Tower to repair.”

“What do you mean?”

“My lord, the Rune Crystal you brought is incomplete. It cannot repair all functions. You can choose to repair the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard’s manufacturing function, or you can repair the tower’s Rapid Construction Function, Memory Recovery Function, and increase the Soul Fire limit.”

“The Memory Recovery Function allows the Alchemy Tower to upload the memories of an alchemical creature before its death. Increasing the Soul Fire limit will raise the tower’s 5000 Soul Fire unit cap to 10,000 units.”

Alchemical militiamen were the resource-gathering units of the Alchemical Empire. They often prospected and collected resources in dangerous areas. If they died in the process, the Alchemy Tower could use the Memory Recovery Function to read the dangers the militia encountered, as well as any nearby rare resources. However, the recovered memories could not be loaded into Alchemical humans.

The Memory Recovery Function was very practical, but Victor didn’t use his Alchemical militia as pure gatherers; they were his main combat units. As long as they weren’t completely wiped out, Victor could always find out what they had encountered.

Therefore, the Rapid Construction and Memory Recovery functions could be ignored. Only the increased Soul Fire capacity held a flicker of interest for him.

“Increase the Soul Fire capacity? Does that mean the tower’s stored Soul Fire will go from 12,380 to 17,380?”

“No. There is no residual Soul Fire in this Rune Crystal. Increasing the Soul Fire limit will not change the amount of Soul Fire, but Alchemy Tower No. 7 will be upgraded to a Level 2 Logistics Alchemy Tower. This can raise your authority within the Alchemical Empire.”

“Heh, what good is that?” Victor’s eyes darted around as he probed, “King, give me a suggestion.”

“My lord, I suggest you upgrade your authority. This will help raise your status within the Alchemical Empire.” King’s voice was as placid as ever, but Victor couldn’t help but feel a hint of yearning in it.

Victor had always been suspicious of the Alchemy Tower. When a pie falls from the sky, anyone would first curse whatever bastard dropped it before considering if the pie was poisoned. Unless one was starving, almost no one would eat it so easily. Yet Victor didn’t even have the right to refuse; this pie had been shoved directly into his mouth. Then, the Ant-man invasion had pushed him into the eye of the storm.

The feeling of being manipulated was extremely grating to Victor. In fact, he could live more freely without the Alchemy Tower. It was precisely because of this mindset that Victor had been leveraging the Alchemical Empire’s technology to develop the strength of ordinary people, aiming to eventually break his dependence on alchemical creatures.

Now, Victor had no intention of being led by the nose by the Alchemy Tower any longer. And so, he made a decision he would come to bitterly regret in the future.

“Repair the production function for the Alchemical Dragon-Lizards!”

“As you command, my lord. Repairing this function will take 30 days. During this period, the Alchemy Tower will be unable to manufacture any alchemical creatures,” King responded swiftly.

“I understand. Begin the repairs.”

With a heavy heart, Victor left the Alchemy Tower. As he walked into the lower camp, the Lithe Ape militiaman, Jack, came up to meet him.

“My lord, the mission you assigned to explore the Great Marsh has been completed. However, an unusual situation has arisen. We captured two humans in the northeastern part of the Great Marsh. One of them is a Wizard.”

“Where are they?” Victor asked in surprise.

“They are being held in the mountain stronghold.”

Victor weighed his options for a moment, then said, “I will deal with this matter in a few days.”

Chapter 248: The Great Smuggling Enterprise

A complete panther hide was spread out on the hemlock floor. On top of the hide sat a pile of gleaming gold coins, but the most eye-catching objects were the dozens of pure, rhomboid crystals and over ten fiery red gemstones.

“There must be nearly three thousand… no! At least four thousand Gold Sols here.” An old mercenary with an iron hook for his left arm stared at the pile of gold coins on the hide, his eyes shining.

Old John glanced at it and said with utter confidence, “If it’s less than fifty-five hundred Gold Sols, I’ll eat them all!”

No one would doubt Old John’s eye; he had been the War Bear Mercenary Company’s financial expert. Sure enough, Iron Hammer added from the side, “Five thousand, five hundred and thirty-four Gold Sols!”

“Heh heh.” Old John fiddled with the white crystals. “Forty-one white crystals, four hundred Gold Sols each, no discounts. That’s sixteen thousand, four hundred Gold Sols! This panther hide… it should sell for a thousand Gold Sols, right? These red gems, I’ve never seen them before. Let’s say thirty Gold Sols each, that’s another five hundred. How much is that in total?”

Lilia, sitting beside Victor, smiled and said in a crisp voice, “A total of twenty-three thousand, four hundred and thirty-four Gold Sols.”

“Not bad, Hammer! This one trip of yours has earned more than our mercenary company has in twenty years!” Narsen slapped Iron Hammer’s shoulder affectionately, not stopping until the stout, sturdy man grimaced.

Nothing was more inspiring than a pile of treasure right before their eyes. The War Bear Mercenaries had to admit that Victor’s smuggling plan had been a resounding success!

The War Bear Mercenaries were all stirred up, their eyes bloodshot, itching to lead the company on another smuggling run themselves.

Mercenaries fought and died, first to secure a future, and second for money. However, unless a vassal’s soldiers suffered heavy casualties, a lord would rarely hire a mercenary company as household guards. Therefore, most mercenary companies were only after money. The War Bear Mercenary Company earned at most a few hundred to a thousand Gold Sols per mission. A job that could earn over twenty thousand Gold Sols was something they had never even dreamed of.

Lilia was in charge of the family’s finances, so she had the deepest appreciation for wealth.

What did twenty-three thousand, four hundred and thirty-four Gold Sols mean? When the House of Randell first purchased cattle and sheep from the Chapman family, twenty Gold Sols could buy four cows and two sheep. Now, purchasing from Wildwillow City, twenty Gold Sols could buy five cows and four sheep. In theory, twenty thousand Gold Sols could buy five thousand cows and four thousand sheep.

The net income from the Randell Fief’s sales of raw sugar, green bricks, cured meat, wheels, hemostatic potions, coffee, and Snow Sugar was eleven thousand Gold Sols, an average monthly profit of seven hundred Gold Sols.

If they only looked at the five thousand, five hundred gold coins Iron Hammer brought back, the money these thirty-odd men had earned in a single trip was equivalent to half a year’s trade profit for the Randell Fief. And their initial investment was just twenty bags of raw sugar and some arrowheads, with a total value not exceeding six hundred Gold Sols.

How could the astronomical profits of smuggling not drive people mad?

Victor sat in the main seat, toying with a dagger crafted from a Nightblade Panther’s tooth, taking in the excited expressions of Narsen and the others.

In truth, the mercenaries had miscalculated.

The wealth Iron Hammer brought back was far more than twenty thousand Gold Sols. The hide on the floor was from a Ferocious Nightblade Panther they had hunted in the Gloomy Forest. To the mercenaries, this hide selling for one thousand Gold Sols was an astronomical price, but nobles would gladly pay five times that for the hide of a dire animal. If it were processed into top-tier leather armor by a master craftsman, it could sell for at least ten thousand Gold Sols.

Different things held different values in the hands of different people. The Nightblade Panther’s hide was one such example, and so were the fire element crystals.

In Old John’s eyes, the flame crystals were a type of red gemstone, with a dozen or so worth only five hundred Gold Sols. In the eyes of a jeweler, flame crystals were a valuable raw material for precious gems. In the hands of a Spirit Knight, flame crystals could unleash powerful combat strength while protecting them from the corrosion of the Elemental Sea of Fire. But for an Alchemical auxiliary soldier, a flame crystal could increase a furnace’s temperature by fifty percent and reduce fuel consumption by twenty percent. It could improve the production efficiency of brick kilns and the smelting efficiency of various ores. It was, fundamentally, an extraordinary energy source!

While everyone cheered for the wealth the Warhammer Mercenary Company had earned, Victor was satisfied with the newly established smuggling channel.

On the surface, Victor was building new water conservancy projects, vigorously developing agriculture, forestry, fishing, and animal husbandry, increasing the population and logistical capabilities, expanding his military, and building fortresses, all in active preparation for war. In the shadows, Victor was establishing a smuggling network, recruiting freemen merchants and Mountain folk mercenaries, reaping massive profits, then roping in various lords to form a powerful interest group.

Should the Ant-man tide overwhelm the Randell Fief, Victor could use his smuggling influence to guide the group of lords to maneuver against the Ant-man army. In the future, even if he lost his fief, he could still hold an advantageous position in the new interest group. This was because the smuggling channel itself did not depend on the resources of any single fief.

When the Warhammer Mercenary Company set out, they only carried refined iron arrowheads and raw sugar worth a few hundred Gold Sols. They made their money by reselling goods from the Mountain folk. Therefore, the profit came from the smuggling trade itself, unrelated to the resources of the Randell Fief. But Victor could use this smuggling channel to sell the materials gathered and processed by the Alchemical humans, which would surely make him fabulously wealthy.

With money, the Alchemy Tower could endlessly create alchemical creatures. Not only could Victor fully exploit the mountain resources, but he could also set his sights on the Lizard Marsh.

Victor needed to use massive amounts of resources to strengthen his own military might, the York family’s army, the Briatte family, the Chapman family, and even the entire Kingdom of Gambia. Only by doing so could he completely defeat the Ant-men.

Precisely because of the importance of the freemen caravan plan, Victor summoned the three leaders of the Warhammer Mercenary Company—Iron Hammer, Fermi, and Kidd—the day after returning to Silver Moon Manor.

The Warhammer Mercenary Company’s ice-breaking journey had brought Victor many pleasant surprises. They had passed through twenty-three fiefs, forced forty-one mountain strongholds to participate in the smuggling trade, recruited fifty-seven Mountain folk mercenaries, and not only reached the Kingdom of Naville but had also established contact with Baron Garrott. Moreover, Victor was very interested in the fat Weyrich’s plan for a candied fruit industry.

When Iron Hammer mentioned that Baron Garrott had ignored Weyrich’s proposal, Victor couldn’t help but laugh, “This Boss Weyrich is quite a talent!”

The business plan the fat Weyrich came up with was a classic, with a high chance of success. But his status was low, and he lacked the power to push the plan forward. That was why Baron Garrott would drop Weyrich and choose to cooperate with the Warhammer Mercenary Company instead.

Without power, one had no right to a share of the profits. No matter how good the idea, one would only be doing the work for someone else to reap the benefits. Victor understood this deeply. However, Weyrich’s candied fruit industry plan fit the strategic layout of the Freemen Merchant Association, and Victor didn’t mind giving him a hand.

What was the difference who he used?

“I need more flame crystals. Since developing the candied fruit industry can build a connection with Baron Garrott, we must support this plan!” Victor said to Old John, “Boss Weyrich guessed that there’s a big shot from the House of Randell behind the Warhammer Mercenary Company… Old John, you can be that big shot. Go and talk to him!”

“Me…” Old John pointed to his own nose and stammered, “My lord, I… I can’t do it! How can an old cripple like me be a big shot?”

“Haven’t you adapted to your change in status yet?” Victor shook his head with a chuckle and said, “Now, you are all big shots in the eyes of the freemen merchants! As long as the family continues to grow, in the future, you will be considered big shots even among the upper-class!”

“Old John, you’ve run an inn and a general store, and you’ve dealt with freemen merchants like Weyrich before. I’ll leave this matter to you. I have only one requirement: the freemen merchants must put up their entire life savings to participate in the candied fruit industry.”

“Also, I’m preparing to open a shop over in Wildwillow City, which you will also manage. For the specific details, go discuss them with Lady Alice.”

As soon as these words were spoken, the mercenaries, who had been in high spirits, looked at each other in dismay. They couldn’t help but glance at the stunned Lilia. Only Narsen remained oblivious.

Victor simply gave the order directly to Lilia, “Lilia, haven’t you been complaining about being short-staffed? From now on, Alice will work under you. She will be in charge of foreign trade, while you will still manage the family’s finances.”

“I can handle it,” Lilia said reluctantly, biting her lip.

Lilia’s jealous look amused Victor. If she had accepted Alice magnanimously, it would have been more unsettling. If not for the lack of available personnel, Victor wouldn’t want the old mercenaries assisting Alice, but for now, he could only have them help her get started.

To prevent Lilia from deliberately dragging her feet, Victor decided to rap her knuckles a bit. “Do you think the political marriage between the York family and me is as simple as sending over two women?”

“The intermingling of family members is a necessary condition of a political marriage!”

“Don’t be fooled by the fact that Elina and Alice’s family holds little status within the York family. If necessary, the York family could easily assign them stewards and guards. Sylvia didn’t make such arrangements out of consideration for my feelings, but My Lady is well aware that our House of Randell is short on people. She is waiting for me to take the initiative!”

“It is inevitable that members of the York family will join the Randell Fief! But I am not ready yet, and we all know why. I hope to delay this by another half a year, until my elite soldiers are fully integrated among the subjects!”

“If you don’t cooperate with Alice, she’ll have to recruit help from the York family! Lilia, is that what you want?”

Lilia shook her head repeatedly, lowering her eyes submissively. “Victor, I was wrong.”

Narsen looked from one person to another. He really couldn’t understand why all his old pals looked so constipated. So he said loudly, “We’ll do whatever My lord says! Why worry so much?”

Victor nodded in satisfaction. Perhaps Narsen wasn’t one for petty schemes, but he did not lack great wisdom. When faced with a field he was unfamiliar with, Narsen never made rash decisions and could always find the key person to solve the problem.

Knowing how to use people to their best abilities was, in fact, a rare and valuable talent. Having such a subordinate made Victor feel at ease.

“Iron Hammer, are the new recruits of the mercenary company and the merchants resting in Pine Forest Town?” Victor asked.

“Yes, My lord.”

Victor tapped the table and said, “You all took a lot of detours on this trip, but you also secured forty-one mountain strongholds. Do you know what to do next?”

Iron Hammer said honestly, “I don’t know.”

“These mountain strongholds are very important to us!” Victor pondered for a moment, then said, “They are the nodes of the smuggling channel, our trading partners, our supply stations, our recruitment grounds, and also our processing workshops. The production of candied fruit can be entirely handed over to the Mountain folk. Our next step is to win over these strongholds, and even strengthen them.”

Victor carefully examined the map drawn by the Alchemical militia, paced back and forth a few times, and said, “I’ll give you some more men and divide the Warhammer Mercenary Company into two, each with a fifty-man roster.”

“The smuggling routes will also be divided into two. Each mercenary company will be responsible for one route and must make a trip at least once every six months!”

“On the next trip, the caravan should carry more daily necessities like salt, flax cloth, and candles. You can also provide them with a few crossbows and some old leather armor. We have already taught the Mountain folk how to eat ground-potatoes, but that’s not enough! You must also teach them how to raise wild boars.”

“All of this is to enhance the Mountain folk’s ability to survive, reduce their dependence on the lords, and make them throw in their lot with us completely! Making a profit from the Mountain folk is secondary; the main thing is to recruit more people from among them.”

Iron Hammer asked cautiously, “My lord, won’t this anger the lords of the various territories?”

“Of course it will!” Victor said coldly. “A few more trips and the smuggling caravan will definitely be discovered. When that time comes, we’ll deal with it as necessary! What? Are you scared?”

“Not scared!” Iron Hammer chuckled. “Bull took care of Baron Schultz’s magistrate, and we almost snatched Baron Garrott’s flame crystals. Bull and the others are so strong, what do I have to be afraid of!”

“Iron Hammer, if you’re scared, let me go instead!” One-Eyed Dragon Gru shouted, thumping his chest.

“Get lost!”

“Alright… aside from Narsen, everyone will have their chance in the future.” Victor waved his hand at the eager mercenaries, then said to Iron Hammer and the others, “You three take a good rest during this time. Spend more time with your wives and children, and settle in the new recruits. In two months, you’ll have to make another arduous trip. I’ll keep two thousand of these Gold Sols, you can divide the rest among yourselves!”

“My lord, that’s too much!” Iron Hammer said hesitantly.

“It’s settled. Everyone is dismissed.”

With the matter of the freemen caravan settled for now, it was time to check on Quicksilver’s results. Victor turned to Lilia and said, “My dear, have Barol come see me.”

Chapter 249: Quicksilver is a Tiger

“My lord, good day. My lady, good day,” Barol said, bowing to Victor and Lilia in turn.

Victor raised his eyes to size up his spymaster. Seeing him again after twelve months, Barol’s spirit was still quite vigorous, but his hair had grayed considerably. It was clear that he had not been short on worries during this time, but it also seemed he had achieved good results.

“Barol, how is the development of Quicksilver’s outer line?” Victor motioned for the old spy to sit down.

“My lord, over the past twelve months, we have traveled through three of Gambia’s capital cities and nine populous towns, establishing connections with the local underworld forces. We’ve recruited fifty-eight usable hands and seventeen orphans. I’ve temporarily settled them in Wildwillow City, ready to await your orders at any time,” Barol replied after taking a seat.

According to Victor’s design, Quicksilver’s organizational structure was divided into a core layer, an inner line, and an outer line.

Quicksilver’s core members knew the organization’s background and secrets. They were directly responsible to Victor and accomplished the tasks he assigned by controlling the inner line. Currently, Quicksilver’s core layer consisted only of Barol and the young spies trained by the House of Randell. The inner line members were the core members’ assistants. They didn’t know the identity of the boss behind the scenes, only the organization’s name. There were currently only five inner line members: the scoundrel Monkey, the assassin Fitch, the con artists Mia and Spider, and the master thief Red Wolf. These were all people Barol had cultivated in Black Fortress Town. The outer line members were the local underworld forces. They knew nothing about the organization’s situation, not even that they had become Quicksilver’s secret agents. Nor could they receive financial support, but they could profit from the smuggling trade.

Cultivating spies and death commandos was time-consuming, laborious, and expensive. Only ancient families with long lineages had their own intelligence organizations. Even so, nobles’ intelligence organizations were generally small, usually not exceeding two hundred people, and they were mostly responsible for gathering intelligence within their family’s sphere of influence.

Victor bore the title of an ancient family in name only. He had neither the money nor the time to cultivate family spies in the conventional way, but he possessed a perspective different from that of the native nobles.

Building an elite and loyal intelligence organization was indeed difficult, but constructing a smuggling organization composed mainly of freemen was simple. No one would turn their nose up at Gold Sols.

Strictly speaking, Quicksilver was part of a smuggling network. Gathering intelligence was merely a side job for the outer line members; their main duty was to protect unlicensed merchants and handle smuggled goods. Whether the outer line was loyal and reliable was not important. In the face of smuggling profits, if you didn’t do it, others would clamor for the chance!

Under Victor’s guidance, Barol led the inner line members and ten Lithe Ape militiamen through many densely populated and commercially developed towns. The capital cities of the three great lordly powers were Quicksilver’s primary targets: Vistock of the Wellington family in the south-central region, Copper City of House Sorim in the south, and Deepwater City of the Joshua family in the east. The York family’s Black City, the Nim family’s Ojibwa City in the west, and the towns in the central and northern parts of the kingdom had not yet been visited by Quicksilver, simply due to a lack of manpower.

Victor had indeed instructed Barol to recruit some inner line personnel, but the fact that he returned from one trip with seventy-five people still gave Victor a shock.

Inner line members, acting as liaisons between unlicensed merchants and local forces, were already touching upon the secrets of the smuggling trade. If there were spies from other families among them, it would inevitably hinder the fledgling smuggling network.

Barol was an old fox; he wouldn’t be unaware of the stakes. Victor couldn’t help but frown and ask, “Why did you bring back so many people?”

“My lord, we ran into a bit of trouble in Deepwater City in the east.” Barol stood up and said uneasily, “I ran into some old acquaintances, and they recognized me. I had no choice but to bring their wives, children, and trusted subordinates back with me to await your judgment.”

Barol had once been a spy for an eastern lord. His “old acquaintances” were likely former comrades. Although there was some camaraderie between them, if they truly ran into each other, it would be a life-or-death situation for the sake of their own safety. Barol’s casual remark—“bring them back to await your judgment”—surely concealed several bloody struggles.

Victor wasn’t interested in the details, but the fact that Barol would risk bringing these people back rather than silencing them on the spot meant he must have had his reasons.

“Speak!”

“Yes, my lord.” Barol bowed and said, “I ran into a few of my old pals in Deepwater City, and they recognized me. I knew they would surely try to silence me, so I decided to strike first. That night, I led my men to their stronghold and wiped them out in one go.”

“I originally planned to eliminate them all, leaving no one behind. But those old pals’ accomplices were well-trained, fierce, and tough. From their fighting style, I could see they were all from mercenary backgrounds. Their individual strength was comparable to that of vassal soldiers. The mercenary leader was especially formidable, wielding two curved swords, in no way inferior to your elite soldiers. Spies and common thugs couldn’t possibly have such combat prowess! I grew suspicious then and there, so I ordered that we take prisoners… In order to capture that mercenary, Pete was killed by him.” As he spoke, Barol furtively glanced at Victor’s expression. Seeing the lord’s face remain as calm as ever, he quietly breathed a sigh of relief.

A spy who had abandoned his family, running into “old acquaintances”—no one could know the other’s current background and purpose. At a time like this, one could not entrust one’s life to past friendship. It was a matter of each serving their own master and leaving it to fate. Subdue the opponent first, then talk.

Barol was cunning and ruthless. Having finally latched onto Victor, with a promising career just beginning to unfold, he could not tolerate any mistakes. To be safe, Barol followed the standard practice for spies and took the initiative to capture his opponents. He just hadn’t expected them all to be hardened fighters. The strangeness of the situation piqued the old spy’s interest. It was because he had demanded a live capture that Pete was stabbed to death.

Pete was one of the Lithe Ape militiamen Victor had assigned to Barol, with strength comparable to an apprentice knight. Barol was very worried that his master would be furious over the loss of a powerful warrior. He was clearly overthinking it.

“After interrogation, I discovered that my old pals had joined the local thieves’ guild. They have no direct connection to the Joshua family.”

The Joshua family’s Deepwater City was the central city of the eastern part of the Kingdom of Gambia. It was densely populated with a thriving trade, connecting to the Randt Empire in the east and the Kingdom of Naville in the north, making it a transportation hub. As long as Quicksilver could develop its outer line in Deepwater City, the smuggling caravans could use the city as a base to infiltrate foreign countries.

Although the Joshua family was a powerful noble house, titled nobles had never paid much attention to freemen. The magistrate of Deepwater City wouldn’t care about fights between gangs, as long as the new gang leader obeyed his orders. It was precisely this loose management that gave Quicksilver the opportunity to develop its outer line.

With ten Lithe Ape militiamen at his side, Barol had enough strength to crush any gang. Victor hadn’t expected Quicksilver to suffer a setback in Deepwater City, and against an opponent that wasn’t even one of the lord’s direct forces.

“This thieves’ guild is something else!” Victor said, shaking his head.

“Indeed,” Barol explained. “This thieves’ guild ostensibly does dirty work for the magistrate, but behind the scenes, they’re also involved in human trafficking. The guild’s leader has deep ties to an organization outside the kingdom. The mercenaries in the guild’s stronghold were members of that organization. They had come to Deepwater City to pick up people and happened to run right into us.”

Victor pressed with interest, “So did you find out which organization is behind the thieves’ guild?”

A strange look came over Barol’s face. He said, “Under intense interrogation, the thieves’ guild leader and those mercenaries confessed that they work for a secret organization called the Masked Brotherhood. It’s said the brotherhood has a history of over a hundred years, doesn’t belong to any lordly power, and is purely a freeman gang.”

“The Masked Brotherhood specializes in gray industries, including theft, fraud, robbery, assassination, and mercenary work. They also run businesses like shops, circuses, inns, and taverns. Those mercenaries were preparing to send the abducted young men and women to the brotherhood’s stronghold in the Kingdom of Sus to undergo training. I analyze that the brotherhood originated in the east, and they are now infiltrating our Kingdom of Gambia!”

“Oh, right. This is the brotherhood’s sigil, found on the mercenary leader.” Barol took out a bronze sigil and handed it to Victor. “The thieves’ guild leader was just a small fry and didn’t know much. His position in the brotherhood was similar to Quicksilver’s outer line; he only became the guild leader with the brotherhood’s help.”

“The mercenary leader was a tough nut. No matter how we tortured him, he wouldn’t break. Finally, Mol gave him a bottle of a hallucinogenic potion, and only then did he start to talk.”

“This man was raised by the brotherhood since childhood. He started out training in a mercenary camp in the Eastern Alliance. As an adult, he was assigned by the brotherhood to be the vice-commander of a mercenary company. That company usually accepts commissions from various lords, but whenever the brotherhood calls, they must obey the organization’s orders unconditionally. I’ve already figured out the location of their training camp and their methods of contact.”

The bronze sigil was clearly a token of the Masked Brotherhood. The front was engraved with a bleeding mask, and the back had the number 47. With this kind of bronze sigil, members of the brotherhood could contact each other, which indicated that the Masked Brotherhood was quite large, its organizational structure was very tight, and its members might not even know one another.

Victor now believed that the Masked Brotherhood truly had a history of over a hundred years. As for whether there were other powers behind them, that was hard to say.

Was it too much of a coincidence that Quicksilver ran into a major gang on its very first outing?

Victor knew this was no coincidence, but an inevitability.

“Barol, you’d never heard of the Masked Brotherhood before?”

“My lord, we family spies only pay attention to the affairs of the nobles. No one cares about what the freemen are doing,” Barol explained awkwardly.

Commoners and the knightly nobility existed in two different classes, with extremely weak connections between them. On a daily basis, knights and nobles were busy currying favor, socializing, polishing their Aura, and producing heirs. The daily affairs of their fiefs were handed over to stewards, and they were even more indifferent to the lives of freemen. By the same token, many freemen went their whole lives without ever seeing a real knightly lord, but they had their own world and rules of survival.

Victor often interacted with members of the work point system, but they were all from farming backgrounds and had never scraped by in the towns. Their mentality and social circles were different from those of truly landless refugees, so Victor knew very little about the freemen’s underworld. What was certain was that it was not surprising for a few long-standing factions to emerge from the vast population of freemen.

The extraordinary power of knights was a chasm that ordinary people could hardly cross. No matter how great the latent power of a commoner gang, it could never threaten the noble class. This disparity, in turn, became fertile ground for gangs to survive and grow. However, the intelligence and ambition of ordinary people were not fundamentally different from those of the noble class. There would always be people who would rather be the head of a chicken than the tail of an ox; it was only logical that they would create a few organizations with their own traditions.

The War Bear Mercenary Company had a history of over forty years. They also had unique training methods and an organizational culture, such as never abandoning their old and weak companions. If the War Bear Mercenary Company could survive, they too would become a century-old freeman organization.

From the very beginning, Quicksilver was meant to take the commoner’s route. A clash with gang forces was bound to happen sooner or later. Nevertheless, Victor was still taken aback by the scale and secrecy of the Masked Brotherhood.

“Barol, what is your recommendation concerning the Masked Brotherhood?”

“My lord, the Masked Brotherhood’s influence is not limited to a single town or a single fief. They could help Quicksilver quickly open up the situation in the Kingdom of Sus, the Kingdom of Borea, and the Eastern Alliance. My suggestion is, wipe them out!”

Victor glanced at Barol with satisfaction and smiled. “You’re quite ambitious. You spared your former comrades precisely to deal with gang forces like the brotherhood?”

The Masked Brotherhood had the ability to help Quicksilver, and it also had the ability to become a stumbling block for Quicksilver—and this was almost a certainty. No powerful organization could ignore the huge profits from the smuggling trade. The question was, did the brotherhood have the right to a piece of the pie? Did they have the strength to resist Quicksilver’s encroachment?

How could one allow others to snore beside one’s bed? Since Quicksilver had begun to venture into the freemen’s underworld, there was no room for the Masked Brotherhood to exist.

In Victor’s strategy, both freeman organizations and lordly powers were just nodes in the smuggling network. They could only manage their own small patch of land. A cross-regional organization would challenge Victor’s leadership and was an opponent Quicksilver had to defeat.

Barol was well aware that regardless of whether the brotherhood had noble backing, Victor would not spare them. Barol’s goal was not to completely exterminate the Masked Brotherhood, but to eliminate its leadership and break it down into local forces. This would not be easy. Barol needed more manpower. In addition to powerful family death commandos, experienced spies were also indispensable.

“My lord is wise!” Barol said fawningly. “My old acquaintances were just trying to get by in the thieves’ guild. They are not members of the brotherhood, nor are they spies for other families. They’ve all taken the hallucinogenic potion, so they absolutely wouldn’t lie! Lord Mol can testify!”

“And what about the others from the thieves’ guild and the brotherhood’s mercenaries?”

“They’ve all been taken care of!” Barol said hurriedly.

Victor shook his head and said with disgust, “I believe your colleagues are not members of the brotherhood, but I despise human traffickers most of all! Get rid of them too!”

Barol was stunned for a moment, then nodded his head in humble assent. Lilia, however, gave Victor a strange look.

“My dear, is there something you wish to say?” Victor asked with a smile.

“It’s nothing,” Lilia shook her head, then couldn’t help but say, “We’ve bought women and children too. You gave the order yourself. Those women and children are now the families of the work point system members.”

“How can that be the same?! That was recruiting, recruiting!” Victor loudly defended himself.

“But you paid that Monkey chief.”

“…” Victor was speechless for a long moment, then said self-deprecatingly, “Fine! Nobody’s hands are cleaner than anyone else’s! Barol, if anything goes wrong with your old acquaintances, I’ll hold you responsible!”

“Thank you, my lord! Thank you, my lady!”

Barol was overjoyed. Quicksilver was short on manpower right now. Since his former companions no longer posed a threat, he could have them work for Quicksilver. This way, he could honor his old friendships while also strengthening Quicksilver—a perfect solution that served both public and private interests.

Victor, however, was not so pleased. Quicksilver was a money-devouring beast. One trip had cost him five thousand Gold Sols, equivalent to half a year’s trade profit for the Randell Fief. The more people Barol recruited, the larger Quicksilver’s operations would become, and its expenses would rise accordingly. But what needed to be done must be done, and the money that needed to be spent must be spent.

“Barol, I have two things for you to do,” Victor said with a serious expression. “First, I want you to establish a gang in Wildwillow City to assist Lady Judy’s magistrate in controlling the situation there and to prevent anyone from inciting a large-scale influx of refugees into the Randell Fief.”

“Second, you need to arrange for men to go north to the Dodor Kingdom as soon as possible to develop Quicksilver’s outer line, because I will soon be sending people to open up the smuggling routes through Dodor.”

“To accomplish these two things, how much money do you need?”

Barol thought for a moment and said, “I’ll probably need twelve thousand Gold Sols.” The moment the words left his mouth, Lilia’s almond eyes went wide. She scolded, “So much money? Why don’t you just go rob someone?!”

In truth, Barol was not being exorbitant. To support its outer line, Quicksilver had to grease the palms of magistrates in various places. This expense accounted for the vast majority of Quicksilver’s budget and could not be spared. However, the House of Randell only had a little over twenty thousand Gold Sols on its books. No wonder Lilia was about to jump out of her skin.

However, Victor had two hundred thousand Gold Sols on hand himself. Eighty thousand of it was a gift from Marquess Sophia’s estate, and the other one hundred and twenty thousand was confiscated from the assassin, Ace. But Victor needed to spend one hundred and fifty thousand to buy a fief for Sylvia, leaving him with only fifty thousand.

All in all, with seventy thousand Gold Sols, Victor had to pay the twenty-thousand annual tribute, settle refugees, and manufacture Alchemical Dragon-Lizards. There was really no money to spare for Quicksilver’s expenses. Fortunately, the Alchemical militia had dug up several hundred white crystals in the Gloomy Forest, worth one hundred and forty thousand. Although white crystals were hard currency, they were difficult to liquidate in large quantities at once. But giving them to Quicksilver to use was a perfect solution.

Victor calmed a red-eyed Lilia and turned to Barol. “I’ll give you two thousand Gold Sols plus thirty white crystals. Is that enough?”

Barol wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and said repeatedly, “Enough, that’s enough.”

“I want you to remember one thing: Quicksilver is only responsible for spending money, not for making it! I will be responsible for all funding. If anyone dares to make money on the side, they will surely die!”

Victor’s expression was grim, his tone icy. A chill ran down Barol’s spine. He lowered his head and said, “My lord, I will remember!”

“You may go.”

After Barol left, Lilia asked with a puzzled expression, “Victor, why not let Quicksilver support itself?”

Victor explained, “If the people we send out have both power and money, how can we control them?”

“So that’s how it is!” Lilia leaned into Victor’s embrace and asked in a sweet voice, “Wealth is also a means of control?”

“Clever!” Victor affectionately pinched Lilia’s small cheek and smiled. “Didn’t you say the family is short on manpower? I’ll be able to solve that problem soon, and that will also cost a lot of money.”

“How much?” Lilia covered her cheek and asked, conflicted.

“Haha, I haven’t counted yet. But it will definitely make my little miser’s heart ache,” Victor laughed heartily.

“But before that, I need to talk to the old charlatan about the death penalty!”

Chapter 250: An Unintentional Awakening

Father Miller walked out of the Magistrate’s Office, his body stooped, his expression heavy and melancholic. At this moment, not even the brilliant sunshine could smooth the conflict etched upon his face.

“I’ve been a priest for twenty-seven years, and this is the first time I’ve ever seen a lord sign a death sentence!” Thinking of the condemned prisoners’ despairing eyes and pious confessions back in the dungeon, Miller couldn’t help but plead with Victor, who was beside him, “I still think it would be more appropriate to exile them.”

Victor shook his head. “I personally gave the order to hang the criminals, and I will bear the responsibility. Father Miller, you have no need to blame yourself for this.”

According to the New Covenant of Light, a lord possessed secular judicial power and could impose punishments on criminals who broke the law, including imprisonment, hard labor, flogging, public display in a cage, exile, and hanging. In practice, however, few lords would sentence their freemen and subjects to be hanged. This was because executing a criminal required the consent of the resident priest.

The Church proclaimed that the clergy had a duty to redeem the masses and supervise the lords. As long as people could devoutly offer prayers of atonement, even criminals had the right to be saved—though this salvation was merely spiritual; the lord still had the right to hang the criminal. In truth, the Church did not seek to shelter criminals. They saw their believers as lambs, and even if one lamb threatened the health of the flock, the wool still had to be shorn before it was put down. If the person a lord wanted to execute was a Vassal, the resident priest would never raise an objection.

What gave lords a headache was the Church’s right of supervision. To avoid gaining a reputation for cruelty, most lords never bothered with crimes committed by refugees, usually leaving them entirely to the magistrate to handle. And the magistrate would pass such a thankless task on to the hyenas. The resident priest would often tacitly approve of this peculiar order, because the execution rate in a territory directly affected their record of merit.

As one of the Lord of Radiance’s chosen, Miller had already transcended the limits of the Radiant Code. His power was as deep as the abyss and as vast as the sea; he could peer through the veil of the future and perceive a person’s evil on a spiritual level. Yet, at his core, Miller was a kind-hearted old farmer. He was unwilling to even kill a Wizard with his own hands, let alone an ordinary person.

“You forced me to agree to hang nineteen people! And you say I have no responsibility?” Father Miller muttered. “I still think we should exile them.”

When there was no conclusive evidence, exiling prisoners into the wilderness was the usual practice. Without the protection of a town or village, an exiled person basically had no chance of survival. The wilds of the Randell Fief had no great beasts or monsters, but the Alchemical Warhounds were not to be trifled with. Victor, however, needed an open and just execution. He would rather offend Miller than carry out the sentences in secret.

“These prisoners murdered people and buried the bodies. The evidence is irrefutable. Death is too good for them! Even if you don’t agree with my order, I will still hang them! I will give the victims justice,” Victor declared righteously.

Faced with the lord’s awe-inspiring righteousness, Miller was at a loss.

Miller was a commoner priest who had comprehended holy power on his own, without any training from a Monastery. In his two decades as a priest, he had spent most of his time preaching in remote, sparsely populated towns where the people were simple and honest, and there were almost no refugees or bandits. The villagers in those towns lived and worked in peace, and neighbors were friendly and helpful. At most, there might be a few instances of fighting and brawling, but that was just young lads vying for the affection of a girl they fancied. They didn’t even need mediation; they would soon make up on their own.

Independently managing the church affairs for over ten thousand people was a completely new challenge for Father Miller. He did not know how to deal with a lord and could only follow his true self, trying his best to save some people.

“My lord, not all of these condemned men are bad people. Three of them were forced to fight back and killed someone by accident! They shouldn’t be hanged.” Father Miller tried to persuade him cautiously. “I agree to hang the others. How about we give these three a chance and commute their sentences to two years of hard labor?”

“How do you know they are good people?” Victor asked with curiosity.

“Er…” Father Miller paused, then explained weakly, “Didn’t they confess?”

“That’s just their side of the story!” Victor shook his head in frustration. “The victims are already dead. They can say whatever they like, can’t they?”

“Well… I’m a priest. I can tell if they’re lying or not. The other criminals were full of lies, and I didn’t believe them, did I?” Father Miller couldn’t explain matters of the soul to Victor, so he could only offer a vague justification.

“I cannot agree!” Victor refused flatly. “How do you know the victim deserved to die? Could he not have been redeemed?”

“This…” Father Miller was suddenly speechless. The man was thoroughly dead; how could he tell if he had been a good person or a bad one?

“If too many people are hanged in the Randell Fief, it will show that I’m ineffective at edifying the populace! My superiors might even send a new priest to take over the church affairs here!” The old priest stuck out his neck, resorting to being stubborn.

Victor found it amusing. With his current fame and status, replacing the resident priest was a matter of a single letter. He wouldn’t even need Sylvia to intervene; the Archbishop would grant him the favor.

Just as the two were at an impasse, the magistrate, Linda, walked over with her large, pregnant belly. “Good day, my lord. Good day, Father Miller.”

Linda was wearing a loose smock, one hand holding her belly. She was about to curtsy when Victor quickly stopped her. “No need for formalities.”

“May our Lord protect you, child,” Father Miller said to Linda. “You should get more rest during this time. Don’t run around!”

“Yes.” Linda gently caressed her belly, her face radiant with a mother’s love.

After Linda and her guards entered the Magistrate’s Office, Father Miller asked Victor, “You’re surely not going to have a pregnant woman carry out a death sentence, are you?”

Victor’s face stiffened. After a moment, he sighed. “Father, do you think Linda is a good person?”

“Not really!” Miller grumbled. “Few of your guards are good people!”

“They all started as mercenaries. They indeed aren’t good people,” Victor nodded. “To say they’re mass murderers is a bit of an exaggeration, but to call them ruthless and cruel is no injustice.”

“Three years ago, I was leading several hundred refugees to pioneer the Randell Fief. Along the way, Linda killed a vicious thug who was bullying the good people. That man was actually a farmer himself. He was at fault, but his crime didn’t warrant death. But I found that after Linda killed him, not a single one of the remaining refugees committed a crime, not even theft! Father, do you know why?”

Miller asked blankly, “Why?”

“Because evil spreads like a plague!” Victor explained. “Suppose I had saved that scoundrel back then. He might have become a good person, but the evil would have eroded the souls of the other refugees. They would have come to believe that indulging their desires would also be forgiven, and the number of criminals would have grown.”

“Of course, harsh laws and severe punishments will only make the populace resentful. But my power back then was very weak. Without the help of the York family, I couldn’t even recruit followers. The people had little faith in a minor lord like me, and they were anxious about the future. After Linda killed that scoundrel, they were反而 reassured.”

“Linda executed a scoundrel whose crime did not warrant death, but in doing so, she also cut away the evil in the people’s hearts. She invisibly established my authority and the fief’s Order, and it was that Order that won the people’s allegiance. You could say that without Linda’s sword that day, there would be no House of Randell today!”

“Order…” Miller frowned, murmuring to himself.

“That’s right! Order!” Victor smiled faintly. “The standards for judging good and evil are hard to define. A refugee, trying to keep his family from starving, robs someone of their food and gets killed. Then his family starves to death. Tell me, is the person who killed him good or evil?”

Father Miller looked completely bewildered, nearly twisting his beard off, but he couldn’t figure out the right and wrong of it.

“I don’t have an answer. And I don’t need one.” Victor shrugged and continued, “The only thing I can do is establish Order, so that my subjects can live and work in peace, and such tragedies won’t be repeated. Order cannot cater to everyone, but regardless of whether a person’s heart is good or evil, anyone who disrupts the Order is a bad person, and anyone who abides by the Order is a good person.”

“Narsen and his men fought to survive; their hands are not necessarily free of innocent blood. But as soon as they reach a town, they obey the local Order. They sheathe their swords, pay for their drinks, and behave themselves. On that point alone, they are not truly bad people.”

“The same logic applies here. Even if those three condemned men killed in self-defense, they disrupted the Order of the Randell Fief and must be punished. Otherwise, the plague of evil will destroy the walls of Order and cause even greater harm to the populace!”

The three “good people” Father Miller spoke of might have truly killed in resistance to being bullied, but murdering someone and burying the body was not self-defense. It was following the rules of the freemen.

Victor could tolerate the inherent order of the refugees. In fact, most lords tacitly accepted the outcomes of refugee conflicts, waiting until a victor was decided before having the Magistrate’s Office bring them under control. The problem was that the Randell Fief’s security system was too weak. To prevent a situation where his subordinates became too powerful to control and the guest overshadowed the host, Victor had to first establish his authority with a few lives.

“Father Miller, the Randell Fief is more fragile than you imagine,” Victor continued. “This is a Pioneer Fief. The fortress to block the entrance to the Great Marsh is not yet built, and my army can barely handle the threat of the Ant-men. The refugees in the fief are ready to flee at any moment. The only reasons they’re still in the Randell Fief are the work opportunities and the fief’s Order.”

“No one enjoys killing, except for madmen. But if I cannot maintain Order, the Randell Fief will descend into chaos, and those simple, honest people will choose to leave. Without them, how can the fortress be built? If the fortress isn’t completed on time, the Ant-man army could overrun the Centaur Hills at any moment, and even the entire Kingdom of Gambia would be in danger. At that point, it will be inevitable that people will be displaced, starving, and cold.”

“Father, do you wish to see that happen?”

Miller stood stunned for a good while, the deep furrows on his brow finally smoothing out. “Things that happen and things that don’t happen all have a reason. Now I know what that reason is.”

Did I lay it on too thick and stun the old man?

Victor touched his forehead and asked tentatively, “Father Miller, what are you talking about?”

“Child, I must thank you!” Miller said with sincerity.

“Thank me for what?” Victor asked, utterly baffled.

“You let me know where I went wrong,” Father Miller said with a smile. “Order is the rule, and faith is the Order of my Lord. That is why The Sacred Mark exists!”

“I cannot save everyone, nor do I need to cater to everyone. Only those who accept my Order can be redeemed!” With that, Father Miller turned and walked toward the small Church.

Victor watched Father Miller’s relaxed back, his own brow furrowed. He shouted, “So did you agree or not?”

“I agree!” Father Miller waved his hand without looking back.

Victor stroked his chin, pondering for a moment before shaking his head with a sigh and turning toward the town hall.

I must have bamboozled that old man silly!

Chapter 251: System Reform (Part 1)

In the afternoon, the upper echelons of the House of Randell gathered in the Administrative Hall to attend a round table meeting convened by the lord.

As the village heads trickled into the meeting room, they were surprised to find an extra person present.

He was a skinny young man whose darting eyes suggested a sharp wit. At that moment, he stood behind the lord with a fawning expression. Upon seeing the village heads enter, he began to nod and bow obsequiously in greeting, just like a monkey.

Victor’s village heads were no longer the men they once were. Each of them now managed over a thousand villagers, and they had grown accustomed to the adulation of freemen, becoming proud and reserved. The young man’s clothes were decent enough, but his attitude was as if from the same mold as those freemen. Ordinarily, the village heads wouldn’t have given him a second glance, but it was a different matter when the young man was standing behind the lord. Thus, the village heads suppressed their doubts and nodded back in acknowledgment.

After the village heads paid their respects to the lord and his three ladies, Victor gestured and said, “Have a seat. You there… you sit down as well.” The young man hastily found a seat. Victor continued, “Let me introduce you all. This is… what was your name again?”

“Monkey!” The young man stood up and bowed repeatedly to everyone present. “I’m Monkey.”

Many freemen lacked proper names, and orphans without parents often went by nicknames. It wasn’t strange for the young man to call himself Monkey, but everyone couldn’t help but laugh. Victor smiled as well. “Monkey is too crude. From now on, you’ll be called Munk.”

“Thank you, my lord!”

Munk’s voice trembled with gratitude, and an unnatural flush spread across his gaunt face from the excitement. Victor glanced at him and said, “Munk will be taking over for Linda as my magistrate.”

This sentence immediately caused a stir in the hall. The village heads glanced at Linda and Narsen in astonishment, but seeing that the couple appeared unfazed, they quieted down again.

Victor took in the village heads’ reaction, which was entirely within his expectations.

After dealing with the smuggling caravan and Quicksilver, Victor began to tackle the fief’s internal affairs. After three days of investigation and deliberation, Victor realized that the existing administrative system could no longer keep up with the Randell Fief’s rapid development. The most direct manifestation of this was a shortage of manpower!

Victor currently had 913 members under the work point system. Subtracting 174 minors, 23 elderly who could barely walk, and 176 pregnant women, only 540 people were available for work. Of these, 250 able-bodied men were in Narsen’s guard detachment, 21 were in Linda’s Magistrate’s Office, and 106 female members were under Lilia. The remaining 163 people not only had to lead over twelve thousand refugees in production and labor but also manage the affairs and trade of Laketon and six other villages.

The House of Randell was only three years old, so it naturally lacked loyal and capable vassals. Victor could “create” people, but he couldn’t create administrative staff with self-awareness. Moreover, the fifteen-year lifespan of Alchemical humans meant they were unsuitable for management roles.

In reality, the Randell Fief did not lack people. Among the more than twelve thousand refugees, over seven thousand had been allocated private plots. It was always possible to pick out some capable individuals from the bunch. Yet, the members of the work point system would rather work themselves to the bone than find any helpers.

The reasons for this were rather thought-provoking.

The fact that the family’s upper echelons, including Lilia, followed the common perception of vassals and couldn’t trust the freemen was only one aspect. The deeper reason was that they had formed a tight-knit clique, excluding outsiders, unwilling to dilute the power in their hands or to absorb new blood into the family. The unease displayed by the village heads upon hearing that Linda was being replaced by Monkey confirmed Victor’s suspicions.

This cliquish mentality not only hindered the development of the Randell Fief but also reflected the work point system members’ lack of confidence.

Strictly speaking, the members of the work point system were not vassals in the true sense. They had never received a vassal’s education, nor did they possess a vassal’s abilities or wealth. Naturally, they couldn’t be as self-assured as true vassals. The work point system members saw the freemen in the fief and saw themselves from three years ago; their wariness, exclusion, and suppression of them stemmed entirely from instinct.

So far, the work point members were still just subjects, and the exchange of work points for land had not yet been fully implemented. Victor could understand their insecurity and selfishness, but it was unacceptable for their mindset to affect the bigger picture!

A simple reprimand would no longer solve this problem. Victor decided to make major adjustments and reforms to the personnel, administrative, military, and security systems, as well as the system for distributing benefits and even their ideological perception.

In short, Victor was going to take a knife to the vassalage system!

The vassalage system had been in place for thousands of years and was deeply ingrained in people’s minds; changing it would be no easy feat. Victor had tried to introduce the work point system before, only to end in failure, but now he had no choice but to push for reform. The threat of the Ant-men was imminent. Where was the time to slowly cultivate family vassals?

Failure to reform would mean losing everything!

Fortunately, this was a world where bloodline was everything. As a noble lord with an extraordinary bloodline, Victor’s word was law in the Randell Fief; others could only obey. For instance, when Victor replaced the magistrate, the work point members dared not defy his order, no matter how dissatisfied they were.

However, the members of the work point system were still the backbone of the House of Randell. In the process of reform, Victor still had to handle them with some tact.

The first step, of course, was to establish the vassal status of the work point system members.

“I have convened this round table meeting today to solve the fief’s manpower problem and, at the same time, to make adjustments to the family’s personnel arrangements and policies.” Glancing around at the anxious village heads, Victor said, “First, I have an announcement.”

“As you all know, aside from Lord Narsen, I have not performed an investiture for any other vassal. As the lord of the Randell Fief, I now grant you the status of vassals in advance and will fulfill my promise of exchanging work points for land. Lilia, you may begin!”

“Yes.” Lilia stood, first bowing to Victor, then took out a parchment scroll. “The House of Randell has a total of 913 members in the work point system, divided into 261 families. Lord Viscount Randell will grant these 261 families the status of vassal families. From this day forward, vassal families can exchange work points for fiefs, at a rate of one mu of land for every one thousand work points.”

“According to the work point records, the House of Randell will release 18,538 mu of land to serve as the fiefs for these vassal families.”

The hall erupted in an uproar. Some village heads were even secretly wiping away tears. In three years, they had achieved the dream of three generations. All the sweat and loyalty they had offered was rewarded in this single moment. However, Victor had an even bigger surprise for them.

“As per The Agreement, the promise of exchanging work points for land will remain valid for the next seven years. Vassal families can continue to earn work points to exchange for land.”

A subject could become a vassal upon receiving a fief of ten mu of land, but this was merely the starting point of their struggle. To obtain more land, vassal families would serve their lord with even greater passion. But while the population would grow, the amount of arable land was difficult to increase, so lords rarely rewarded their vassals with land.

In the Randell Fief, the work point families could exchange for no less than fifty mu of land, with some getting over a hundred. Yet Victor was not stopping there; he intended to keep his promise and distribute even more land to the work point families. According to Victor’s plan, after seven years, each vassal family would possess at least three hundred mu of land.

Victor’s lavish distribution of land was partly because he had plenty of it, but also to tie the work point members firmly to the Randell Fief.

After all, Victor had only known the work point members for a little over three years. When the Randell Fief was attacked by the Ant-men again, no one could guarantee they would be truly reliable. In the current situation, Victor first had to ensure the unwavering support of the work point members. Thus, distributing a sufficient amount of real property to them became the only option. A fief of over three hundred mu would be enough to make them fight to the death for the Randell Fief.

“As your lord, I have a responsibility to ensure the livelihood of my family’s vassals.” Victor stood and said solemnly, “I officially announce that I will exempt all new vassals from tribute for three years, provide their families with free seeds for three years, and gift each vassal family two mares, four bullocks, twenty sheep, and fifteen pigs.”

“After three years, the vassal families of the Randell Fief will only need to pay me a tribute of four-tenths. Vassals and subject families may rent up to eighty mu of arable land and keep three-tenths of the produce. I promise that this family resolution will not be changed for fifty years!”

Since the implementation of the vassalage system, the method of distributing agricultural produce had never changed. The Church first took one-tenth of the produce as a tithe. The subjects received two-tenths of the remaining produce as payment for renting the land. Vassals kept five-tenths of their fief’s revenue and paid five-tenths as tribute, but they did not have to pay tax to the King. The lord, however, had to take two-tenths of his actual income as an annual tribute to the King.

Victor’s announced family resolution changed the traditional distribution method. He increased the income of his vassals and subject families at the cost of his own revenue.

From a modern perspective, this was essentially a subsidy for farmers, designed to stimulate their work ethic and promote the development of the entire agropastoral sector. Victor’s confidence in doing this stemmed from the Randell Fief’s 1:6 seed-to-yield ratio and the new agropastoral system, whereas the traditional yield ratio was only 1:2 or 1:3. But in the eyes of the village heads, this was the lord’s generosity and benevolence.

Moline, the village head, was the first to step forward. He dropped to one knee and said, “My generous and benevolent master, the esteemed Viscount Randell. I, Moline, and my descendants, swear allegiance to you and the House of Randell, for all generations, and we shall never betray you!”

“I, Dean, and my descendants, swear allegiance to my great master, Lord Randell. For all generations, we shall never betray you!”

“I, George, swear allegiance to the House of Randell…”

“I, Kent…”

The other village heads followed suit, and the scene became chaotic. Victor waited until everyone had pledged their loyalty before waving for them to sit down.

The pill of reassurance had been swallowed, and the village heads’ connection to the fief had grown even stronger. Now, it was time to implement the second step of the reform: unifying their ideological perception.

Chapter 252: System Reform (Part 2)

“I believe in your loyalty, but a vassal must be able to help me manage my domain,” Victor said faintly. “The family is currently short of stewards and soldiers. Which of you can solve this problem?”

The village heads looked at each other. Finally, Village Head Moline stood up and said, steeling himself, “My lord, we are already working very hard.”

“Yes, you are working very hard… Each of you has only one head and two hands. Pushing you to your deaths won’t solve the problem.” Victor smiled and turned to Lilia. “I now have over two hundred vassals, but I still don’t have enough people! Since my vassals can’t solve the problem, my only option is to promote the subjects. Do I have any subjects?”

“No.” Lilia shook her head. “Freemen must work for us for three years before they can be granted the status of subjects.”

“Three years?” Victor sneered. “I can’t wait three years! This Season of Water, we need to reclaim over a hundred thousand mu of farmland, build five villages next to the five stream reservoirs, dig irrigation canals, and produce green bricks. By next year, construction on the fortress must also begin… The Randell Fief needs to recruit at least ten thousand able-bodied laborers and accommodate a population of twenty thousand.”

“To settle and manage such a large population, I need three hundred stewards and five hundred soldiers.” Victor’s voice was resolute. “I have decided to recruit stewards and soldiers from among the freemen!”

The hall fell into a dead silence. Everyone, including Lilia, was dumbfounded. In the common view, only vassals were upper-class men, qualified to become stewards and soldiers. If Victor were to appoint subjects, they could reluctantly accept it, but directly promoting lowly freemen was beyond anyone’s comprehension.

Narsen was the first to stand up and object. “My lord, I have no objection to you recruiting stewards, but recruiting soldiers from among the freemen… Well… to be honest, I can’t trust them. If a real battle breaks out, they’ll surely be the first to flee! I think it’s better… you know what I mean.”

That oaf was still after the Alchemical militia!

“Stewards are out of the question as well!” Lilia gently persuaded, “Victor, the freemen can leave the Randell Fief at any time. We have no right to stop them. What will we do if a freeman steward just up and leaves without a word?”

“That’s right,” Alice chimed in. “My lord, freemen are stupid, dirty, and unreliable!”

Monkey shrank into his chair and said nothing, while the village heads all nodded in agreement with Lilia, seeming to forget that they themselves were once freemen.

“Are you all so certain the freemen will leave the Randell Fief?” Victor asked faintly. “Are the private plots and wild boars I’ve allocated useless?”

Dean, the village head of Brick Kiln Village, mustered his courage and said, “My lord, although the wages we offer are low, the freemen have no problem feeding and clothing themselves. They don’t have to pay rent for housing, the pork is especially cheap, and their private plots provide some income. However, I’ve noticed that the laborers I’ve hired would rather save their wages than eat meat. This shows they are ready to leave at any moment, because this is, after all, a Pioneer Fief.”

“Are you trying to tell me that a few vegetable plots and half a pig won’t convince a freeman to face the Ant-men?”

Dean gave a sheepish smile, tacitly agreeing. Victor raised his voice. “There will always be some who are willing to stay! We just need to find these people!” His tone shifted. “But I will not grant them land!”

The village heads all breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Having become vassals, they didn’t want others to be granted land. Land was a finite resource, and they had to consider their own descendants.

Exclusivity was a drawback of the vassalage system, and one of the reasons Victor wanted reform. He continued, “Besides nobles, vassals, subjects, and freemen, are there any other kinds of people? The answer is yes!”

“The Church divides people into devout believers and nominal believers based on their faith. It divides people into the registered population and refugees based on the fief’s demographics. To the Church, ‘vassal,’ ‘subject,’ and ‘freeman’ are just labels with no real meaning!”

“Thousands of years ago, the great scholar Arya proposed the concepts of vassals, subjects, and freemen based on the circumstances of the time. Today, I will also propose a new standard of classification based on the actual situation in the Randell Fief!”

Victor stood up, his gaze burning. “As you all know, the House of Randell was established two years ago. According to the tradition of three-generation investiture, none of you are vassals in the true sense of the word!”

“What is a vassal? To faithfully protect their liege lord’s property, to uphold their liege lord’s rights, and to never retreat even in the face of a powerful enemy! That is a vassal! In Radiant Year 5643, Earl Edulf was placed on the Church’s wanted list. His subjects were scattered, but his vassals, relying on their castle, fought against the Church’s army for three whole years. Even when their food ran out, not a single one surrendered. In the end, they all died in battle!”

“Can you do that? Do you dare to make an enemy of the Church for my sake?”

“I can!” Narsen shot to his feet, roaring, “Anyone who dares to offend my lord’s honor must first step over my dead body!”

The thunderous shout made their eardrums buzz and ignited the passion in the village heads’ chests. They cried out, “We swear to die for my lord!”

Victor nodded in gratification. “I believe you can do it, not because of some empty oath. When the Ant-men swept through the Randell Fief, you fought alongside me and followed me back to this domain. It is precisely because of your heartfelt support that I conferred upon you the status of vassals. I, Viscount Randell, may not have vassals of three generations, but I have a group of followers who are in no way inferior to them!”

“You are both my vassals and my Partisans!”

“Everyone knows the situation in the Randell Fief. The Ant-man army still threatens this land.” Victor gestured for everyone to sit down and said slowly, “Therefore, relying on you Partisans alone is not enough to protect the family’s domain. We also need Supporters!”

“My lord, what is a Supporter?” Lilia asked softly.

“Good question!” Victor smiled. “After the Ant-man plague, you chose to stay in the Randell Fief, and thus became my Partisans. Today, those freemen who are willing to stay in the Randell Fief are our Supporters!”

“We will recruit stewards and soldiers from among these Supporters. These people will be our Aides!”

“Partisans? Aides? Supporters?” Lilia murmured to herself, a look of understanding dawning on her face.

Victor raised his voice. “To deal with future crises, we must strive to turn the freemen into Supporters of the family. This is certainly not a simple task. However, it can be described simply.”

“In the Randell Fief, a freeman can be fed and clothed, accumulate wealth, have security, and have a relatively fair channel for promotion. But the most important thing is to ensure that their property is inviolable!”

The reason freemen lacked a sense of national or family identity was primarily that their property was not secure. When a lord issued a Call to Arms and requisitioned supplies, the freemen were the first to suffer. After the war, vassals still had their manors and fiefs, and subjects could still rent farmland, but the freemen were left with nothing. To protect the wealth they had painstakingly accumulated, freemen would often leave troubled lands in advance, which was precisely the situation the Randell Fief was facing.

“I will issue a decree and use Divine Notarization to ensure that the property of freemen is inviolable—of course, this applies only to Supporters! Therefore, the most urgent task is to first distinguish between Supporters and refugees.”

“Just as Dean said, private plots and wild boar breeding may not be enough to make everyone stay. But there will always be some who are willing.” Victor paused, then continued, “It’s simple to distinguish these people: have them build houses and settle down!”

“Any freeman family that can produce thirty Gold Sols can build their own green brick house in any of the villages. The house will be their private property, protected by me. Furthermore, through Divine Notarization, I will pledge ten thousand Gold Sols to the Church, so that no matter what happens to the Randell Fief, the homeowner can withdraw thirty Gold Sols from the Church with their property deed.”

For a freeman family, thirty Gold Sols was no small sum, and the green bricks to build a house were definitely not worth that much. Therefore, anyone who could afford to purchase property in the Randell Fief had an unquestionable resolve to join it. To eliminate the freemen’s worries, Victor had no choice but to put up a large sum of money and ask the Church to act as a guarantor. Although there had been no response to the report Father Miller sent, the Church would surely welcome such an opportunity to expand its influence with open arms.

“Freeman families willing to purchase property are naturally our Supporters. And they will enjoy corresponding rights.”

“First, their private property is inviolable. Second, they can raise six wild boars each year and keep two of them. Third, their family members will be converted to the fief’s registered population and will be prioritized for promotion to subject status, receiving the family’s protection. Fourth, they have the right to participate in the selection for family stewards and soldiers, that is, to become Aides.”

“The annual salary for a family steward will be no less than four Gold Sols, and for a soldier, no less than six Gold Sols. These will be doubled in times of war. Compensation for death in service will be no less than fifty Gold Sols, and if disabled, the family will provide for their care for life.”

“Does anyone have anything to add?”

Moline raised his hand. “My lord, what if some people don’t have thirty Gold Sols but wish to become Supporters?”

The village heads all turned to look at Victor. They had all managed to win over some freemen during this time, and since buying a house came with so many benefits, they were worried about missing the chance to promote their own confidants over a matter of money.

Victor said with a smile, “I can provide loans, but they must be guaranteed by a vassal. The annual repayment will be no less than six Gold Sols, to be paid off in seven years. In other words, you will have to pay me back forty-two Gold Sols to borrow thirty.”

Lilia’s face paled. She quietly tugged on the corner of Victor’s sleeve and whispered, “My dear, we have to pledge ten thousand Gold Sols to the Church, and now we have to provide loans to the freemen… How much money will all this cost?!”

“Don’t worry,” Victor patted Lilia’s hand and said, “This time, I will only issue six hundred building permits. The clever ones will naturally seize the opportunity; only they are qualified to become Aides. As for those who hesitate and miss this golden opportunity, they will just have to wait for the next one!”

The expressions on the village heads’ faces became subtle. There was no shortage of building plots, bricks, or wild boars, but the positions for stewards and soldiers were limited. Those who missed this chance would lose their qualification for promotion. The village heads began to secretly calculate whether it was worth spending a little of their own money to get some people on board.

Favoring one’s own was human nature. Victor had long guessed what the village heads were thinking but had no intention of interfering. For one, not all freemen necessarily had the money, and he needed to recoup his capital, so there was nothing wrong with the village heads chipping in. For another, factionalism was almost impossible to avoid. As long as the system was sound, the associated harm could be minimized. Besides, those favored by the village heads likely had some ability.

Most importantly, Victor was about to adjust administrative authority next. The village heads of the Randell Fief were destined not to become local tyrants.

“Now, let us move on to the next topic, regarding your duties…”

Chapter 253: System Reform (Part 2)

“Lilia will serve as the Family General Steward, with full authority over the fief’s internal affairs and finances. When I am not in the fief, Lilia will exercise the lord’s authority on my behalf, overseeing all family matters. Her annual stipend will be five hundred Gold Sols.”

As Victor first established Lilia’s unique position, the attendees breathed a sigh of relief while covertly observing the expressions of Elina and her sister. These two ladies of stunning beauty had powerful backgrounds and noble origins, far beyond what Lilia could compare to. Both out of emotional concern and for their own interests, Narsen and his wife, along with the several village heads, had been somewhat worried that they would challenge Lilia’s position. It now seemed their fears were unfounded; Elina and Alice remained calm, seemingly unconcerned by Lilia’s appointment.

Lilia, on the other hand, had been quite pleased at first, but when she heard the annual stipend of five hundred Gold Sols, her expression changed drastically, and she looked as if she were grinding her teeth. Knowing Victor as she did, everyone here would receive an annual stipend, and it certainly wouldn’t be a small one!

Just how much money was this going to cost?!

Sure enough, Victor smiled at Lilia and continued, “Alice will serve as the Family Liaison Officer, responsible for the family’s external trade and diplomatic matters with other families. Her annual stipend will be three hundred Gold Sols.”

Now it was Alice’s turn to be unhappy. She didn’t care how much power Lilia held, nor did she care about the position of Liaison Officer. In fact, having received a noblewoman’s education since childhood, Elina and Alice’s aspirations for the life of a lady were to serve their husband well, educate their children, manage the castle and manor, and host various banquets and celebrations.

Alice looked down on the power Lilia held. In her eyes, Lilia was nominally a personal handmaiden to Victor, just like her and her sister, but in reality, she was the steward of the House of Randell.

A lady’s duty was to propagate the family bloodline, educate the family’s heirs, and enjoy a life of pampered leisure. How could she possibly do a steward’s work?

If not for her desire to please Victor, Alice wouldn’t have even wanted to be a Liaison Officer; she was rather envious of her sister, who was managing Silver Moon Manor. But Lilia’s annual stipend was two hundred Gold Sols more than her own, which was a heavy blow to Alice. She felt it proved she was less important than Lilia in Victor’s heart.

And that was, in fact, the truth.

Alice didn’t dare throw a tantrum at Victor, so she glared daggers at Lilia until her sister, Elina, discreetly kicked her under the table.

Victor paid no mind to the storm of jealousy brewing between his women. He continued, “Elina will be responsible for managing Silver Moon Manor and the family castle. In addition, all children of vassal families between the ages of seven and fifteen will receive attendant education from Elina. Elina’s annual stipend will be three hundred Gold Sols.”

Nobles would select outstanding scions from vassal families to serve as family attendants, teaching them combat and hunting skills, rich social etiquette, instilling good living habits, and fostering a sense of honor, loyalty, and courage. This was attendant education. Only children of vassals who had received this training could be considered true members of the upper class, and they were often entrusted with great responsibility by the lord. For this reason, vassal families referred to it as noble education.

Wasn’t becoming a noble what every vassal strived for?

The village heads were filled with solemn respect, and even Linda flashed a fawning smile at Elina, like a parent trying to curry favor with a teacher.

Elina’s authority wasn’t high, but her influence was immense. She would decide the selection and training of the family’s attendants, and all vassals of the House of Randell would have to do their utmost to court her favor. This would help integrate the sisters into the House of Randell, while the two hundred-plus vassal families would no longer be a monolithic bloc, imperceptibly reducing Narsen’s family’s influence among them. A crack would be pried open in their tightly-knit collective consciousness, until it eventually crumbled.

The corners of Victor’s mouth turned up slightly. “Narsen will serve as the Captain of my guard detachment, commanding the household guards, and concurrently as the Garrison Commander of the Randell Fief, commanding the garrison captains of each village and town. His annual stipend will be two thousand Gold Sols.”

“No! Two thousand Gold Sols is too much! It can only be one thousand!”

Lilia jumped up and loudly objected. Linda, who had been beaming, immediately rolled her eyes at her. Lilia didn’t hesitate to glare back, then fixed a fierce stare on her brother. Narsen, who had always spoiled his younger sister, said weakly, “Then one thousand it is…”

“Is this a general store? Can we haggle?” Victor said, exasperated. “It’s two thousand Gold Sols!”

“The Royal Capital’s Imperial Guard pays its Knights a salary of eight thousand Gold Sols a year. The Knights of the York family also have an annual stipend of four thousand. With your current strength, you should be able to receive four thousand Gold Sols as well. However, our House of Randell isn’t wealthy at the moment, so we can only give you two thousand for now.”

“Thank you for your generosity, my lord,” Narsen said, rubbing his head in embarrassment. He then asked, “My lord, I’ve heard of a Garrison Commander, but what does commanding the garrison captains of each village and town entail?”

“We’ll discuss that in a moment.” Victor gestured for Narsen to be patient and said, “Baritt will serve as the family’s Military Affairs Officer, responsible for training the family’s soldiers and militia, as well as managing military equipment and supplies. His annual stipend is two hundred Gold Sols.”

“Baritt, I will order the construction of a training camp and a military supply depot. From now on, the military training and materiel of the Randell Fief will be separated from Laketon’s internal administration and will be your sole responsibility.”

The old mercenary Baritt stood and bowed to Victor. “As you command, my lord!”

Victor nodded, his gaze turning to Linda. “Linda will no longer serve as magistrate. She will take over the position of Fief Inspector. Her annual stipend is two hundred Gold Sols.”

“The Inspector is a new position I’ve created. Her authority is to listen to the voices of the people, inspect the administration of each village and town, and supervise the work of the village heads, town mayors, and the magistrate. Village heads and magistrates may not obstruct the Inspector’s inspections and inquiries in any way, but the Inspector has no authority to interfere in administrative affairs.”

“Does anyone have any questions?” Victor glanced coolly at the uneasy village heads and Monkey.

Moline raised his hand and asked, “My lord, is the Inspector like the old deputy group leaders?”

“That’s right.”

Back then, to prevent the village group leaders from abusing their power for personal gain and oppressing their subordinates, Victor had the members of each group take turns serving as deputy group leader to supervise the leader’s words and actions. Now that the members of the work point system had developed deep friendships, it was no longer appropriate to expect them to supervise one another. At this juncture, establishing an independent supervisory system was essential. Coincidentally, Victor needed to replace the magistrate, so he simply appointed Linda as the Inspector. This would appease Narsen and also create a system of checks and balances between the Inspector and the magistrate.

The village heads were already accustomed to being supervised by a deputy, so now that it was just a different person doing the supervising, they didn’t find it particularly objectionable.

“Munk is my newly appointed magistrate.” Victor pointed at Monkey and said, “He will be responsible for the fief’s public order, and the constables of each village and town will be under his jurisdiction. His annual stipend is one hundred Gold Sols.”

All eyes turned to Monkey. He quickly stood up, bowed, and said, “My lord, I’ll definitely do a good job!”

Victor smiled and said, “The appointments of the village heads will remain unchanged. You are responsible for leading the villagers to complete the labor projects arranged by Lilia, paying wages to the hired freemen, and arranging their living situations. In addition, because the Randell Fief is vast and sparsely populated, and there are no dangerous beasts or monsters in the wilderness, I am increasing the effective jurisdiction of each village from three hundred square kilometers to four hundred square kilometers. You must manage the harvesting of natural resources well.”

“The annual stipend for a village head is one hundred Gold Sols.” Victor paused, then added, “In the future, when you become town mayors, the annual stipend will increase to two hundred Gold Sols.”

“My lord, you are truly too generous,” said George, the head of Village Two, his voice filled with emotion. “This is the first time we’ve ever heard of a village head receiving a stipend.”

“There is no stipend!” Lilia said coldly, her cheeks puffed out. “Village heads in other fiefs don’t get stipends! Only the village heads in our Randell Fief receive an annual stipend, and such a large one at that!”

Victor would be paying out forty-two hundred Gold Sols in stipends to the family’s senior staff each year. Adding the costs of hiring stewards and soldiers, the annual expenditure would be at least six thousand Gold Sols. Lilia believed that since the land had already been distributed, there was no need to pay them stipends as well, but she didn’t know that this expense was the core of Victor’s system reform.

Victor didn’t explain it to Lilia, and even if he did, no one would have understood.

“This money isn’t so easy to take.” Victor tapped the table, stood up, and said, “You get paid to do a job. If any of you fail to fulfill your duties, I will remove you from your post and have someone else take your place. Is that understood?”

A chill ran down the village heads’ spines. They responded in unison, “Understood.”

Victor gave a slight nod. “Narsen, Baritt, you will each select personnel and station three guards in each village. They will serve as the Garrison Captain and Militia Instructors, responsible for commanding the village militia and defending the town.

“Munk, you will select personnel from the Magistrate’s Office and station three constables in each village, responsible for the town’s public order.”

“From now on, specialized tasks will be handled by specialists. The village heads will only be responsible for internal affairs and production. You may coordinate, but you may not directly interfere in the defense and security of the villages.”

The village heads were baffled. Moline raised his hand and asked, “My lord, how do we coordinate?”

“In times of peace, the focus is on production and construction. In the event of an external invasion, the focus is on defense and combat,” Victor explained. “I will divide the fief’s security into three levels. Green represents safety. The village head is in overall command, and the Garrison Captain and constables will cooperate with the village head’s work. However, there must be no fewer than five days of militia training each month.”

“Yellow represents a state of alert, indicating that monsters or bandits have appeared in the wilderness. At this time, the village head must cooperate with the garrison and constables, leading the villagers to work outside only when it is safe to do so.”

“Red represents danger. The village head and magistrate must unconditionally obey the commands of the Garrison Captain, supporting the army in resisting foreign enemies, mobilizing resources, defending the town, and evacuating the populace!”

As soon as Victor finished speaking, the village heads began to whisper amongst themselves. “This is a great method!”

“My lord is wise!”

“What a relief!”

Seeing this, Victor couldn’t help but smile. He hadn’t expected the system reform to go so smoothly. The village heads had no idea what they had gained, or what they had lost.

As early as when he was designing the water conservancy project, Victor had begun to study a new system. This wasn’t because he had an aversion to the vassalage system, but because he didn’t have any vassals.

The vassalage system was based on the reality that a ruler’s reach was limited. Through successive enfeoffments, they expanded their territory, creating a political structure where many smaller powers supported a central one. But Victor didn’t have this problem. The Randell Fief was nine thousand square kilometers in size, one hundred and twenty-one kilometers from north to south, and seventy-five kilometers from west to east. Its seven villages and towns were distributed along the Black River, and the farthest village was only a three-day walk from Laketon. On horseback, it was just a day’s journey. Victor’s commands could reach any part of the fief in no time, not to mention he had his alchemical crows.

With the Alchemy Tower at his command and over a thousand alchemical creatures under him, Victor had the ability to completely control his fief. Since he had no loyal and capable vassals, and the vassalage system itself was an inefficient political structure, why not just implement a centralized system?

If a centralized system could be described as the office being permanent while the officials are transient, then the vassalage system has both permanent offices and permanent officials.

Although a lord had the right to appoint and dismiss his village and town heads, few lords bothered with the affairs of their towns. The position of village head was almost hereditary within vassal families, making them true local tyrants.

Victor first separated the military, political, and judicial powers of each village and town, then centralized them in his own hands. Next, he changed the garrison-militia system to a recruitment system.

Vassal soldiers required no pay, were loyal, and highly capable. In contrast, the soldiers Victor recruited were not only expensive but their loyalty was hard to guarantee, and their combat effectiveness was a major step down. But this brought the problem back to the starting point: Victor had no vassals! Besides hiring soldiers, he had no other choice.

In truth, recruiting soldiers from among the freemen was merely a stopgap measure. Victor’s real source of troops was the Mountain folk mercenaries. Through combat, he would let them weed out the weak and retain the strong, then select loyal and brave individuals from their ranks to form the backbone of an army.

Choosing a recruitment system was a move born of necessity, but it did indeed shake the foundations of the vassalage system. If one could spend money to recruit soldiers and talent, why hand over power completely?

At this point, the new system Victor designed had taken shape. It was a centralized system disguised in the cloak of vassalage. Victor called it the Leasehold Employment System.

The Leasehold Employment System combined the characteristics of both the vassalage system and a centralized one; it was a fusion of the vassalage system and the Subject Employment System. Victor abandoned the concepts of vassals, subjects, and freemen, instead promoting the idea of Partisans, Aides, Supporters, and refugees. The core of this system was to transform refugees into Supporters, select talented individuals from among the Supporters, make them Aides through employment, and after a period of observation, transform outstanding and loyal Aides into Partisans by enfeoffing them with land.

On the surface, it still looked like the vassalage system, but it was not.

First, enfeoffed land was no longer tied to power and position but was a permanent land lease agreement. If vassals had no talent, they could only honestly farm their land and cultivate the next generation for a chance to return to the core of power. The capable would rise, the mediocre would fall. Faced with external competitors, vassal families would have to study hard and constantly improve their abilities, never daring to slack off for a moment.

Second, the Leasehold Employment System was quite flexible. It wasn’t limited to the development of the fief but could also integrate with freemen merchant groups, eventually forming an invisible, centralized empire.

Finally, a lord needed hundreds of years to cultivate qualified vassal families, whereas the Leasehold Employment System was open directly to the vast population of freemen, allowing for the exceptional promotion of capable individuals. Its development speed far surpassed that of the vassalage system. Due to its centralized power, its efficiency was also several times that of the vassalage system.

The Leasehold Employment System also had one drawback: it required money. A lot of money.

In the entire human kingdom, only Victor could currently implement the Leasehold Employment System. This was because his Pioneer Fief had no traditional vassal forces, and he possessed unparalleled foundational martial power and advanced production technology—the Alchemy Tower!

“Does anyone have anything to add?” Victor asked slowly. Seeing no one raise a hand, he said, “Then this meeting is dismissed.”

Monkey bowed to Victor and was about to leave with the village heads when he was called back.

“Lilia, Narsen, Linda, stay behind. Monkey, you stay too!”

Chapter 254: Organizational Loyalty

Monkey felt like he was living in a dream, his life a series of dramatic ups and downs. First, he betrayed his boss, Barol, and took his place as the hyena chief of Black Fortress Town, becoming a big shot among the freemen. But then an Ant-man plague knocked him right back to where he started. To top it all off, his old boss Barol hadn’t died after all and had found him and his sister, Elsa. Monkey thought he was a dead man for sure, but to his surprise, Barol didn’t kill him. Instead, he pulled him into a brand-new world—the world of spies. It was only then that he understood: from the moment Lord Barol had taken him and Elsa in, he had been nothing more than a pawn.

His sister Elsa was held as a hostage, and Monkey had lost his freedom, but he knew that as long as he was useful, Barol wouldn’t be quick to raise the butcher’s knife against him and Elsa. So, Monkey began working for Barol again, receiving even more advanced training as a spy.

Under Barol’s leadership, Monkey and his companions traveled through many bustling towns, making contact with the local underground influences. Naturally, this involved a great deal of killing, deception, and bribery. Finally, Barol left him behind in Redwood Town, within Baron Schultz’s fief.

Barol ordered Monkey to develop the underground influence in Redwood Town, keep an eye on Baron Schultz’s fief, and obey the commands of any envoy the organization sent to meet him. Monkey had no right to refuse, and besides, he was already used to the life of a freeman hyena.

In fact, Monkey felt that following Lord Barol wasn’t so bad. As for freedom, heh, what was that? Could you eat it?

Soon, Monkey was thriving in Redwood Town, thanks to his knack for currying favor and his cunning, sharp-witted nature. The helper the organization had left him, Hamil, was also a huge asset.

Hamil was a man of few words, a master of combat who killed without blinking an eye. He had no desire for women or money. He was practically a powerful, self-disciplined, and cold-blooded monster! Monkey was increasingly convinced that the power of Quicksilver was unfathomably deep. He didn’t dare to betray them, but he yearned to be valued by the organization!

Now, his chance had come! The organization’s big boss was right in front of him, and he had even promoted him to magistrate!

Victor spoke up. “Barol trained five proteges in Black Fortress Town. I’ve only seen you. Do you know why?”

Don’t try to be clever! Monkey silently warned himself. He answered honestly, “My Lord, when you passed through Redwood Town, I guessed that Lord Barol might be one of your men. I just… I didn’t dare to think about it, didn’t dare to ask. I was afraid of dying…”

Back then, Sylvia had set a trap to drive a wedge between Queen Catherine and Victor, having Narsen kill the steward of a noble from the Prince’s Faction. Victor had tracked down the person involved, Barol, and had met Monkey in person. Then, Barol had been “resurrected” and kidnapped Monkey and his sister. A few months ago, right after Victor arrived in Redwood Town, Quicksilver’s agents had contacted Hamil.

Connecting all these events, Monkey had long since guessed that Victor was Barol’s boss, but he hadn’t dared to let it show. Still, if he could figure it out, how could Barol not have?

In truth, the moment Victor activated a secret agent in Redwood Town, that person would likely realize who the big boss was. But to Barol, Monkey had always been a liability. He had left Monkey in Redwood Town with the original intention of silencing him after he had served his purpose. Fortunately for Monkey, Victor wasn’t in the habit of silencing his subordinates, and Monkey had made a decent impression on him before.

“Have you seen your sister?”

Monkey lifted his head, his voice filled with gratitude. “I have. Thank you, My Lord.”

Monkey’s sister, Elsa, had been adopted by the family of a War Bear Mercenary. The little girl was very bright, and her adoptive parents treated her as their own. She was living a very good life in the Randell Fief. Monkey had seen her from a distance but hadn’t dared to approach her.

“Don’t think of yourself as too important, and don’t think of your lord as too terrifying. You can go see your sister anytime you want.” Monkey nodded in agreement, and Victor asked another question, “How did you get in with the magistrate in Redwood Town?”

“My Lord, Redwood Town’s magistrate, Gerry, is Baroness Schultz’s younger brother. He got into trouble in Kasan Town, where a group of mountain folk bandits broke his spine, so Baron Schultz transferred him to Redwood Town to serve as magistrate. Gerry didn’t get along well with the team left behind by the previous magistrate. I seized the opportunity to get rid of the hyena chief and bribed the magistrate with money. Gerry came to see me as his confidant. I was usually responsible for collecting the customary cut for him, intimidating uncooperative innkeepers, rounding up thieves and swindlers, and keeping an eye on passing caravans. I was the one doing the magistrate’s dirty work.”

Victor nodded. “You’ve been in Laketon for more than ten days now. What do you think of this place?”

“It’s very beautiful, very clean.” Monkey thought for a moment, then said, “It’s just… too clean…”

“Is being too clean a bad thing?” Lilia asked coldly.

“No, no!” Monkey waved his hands frantically and said awkwardly, “It’s just that there are no… I’m just not used to it.”

“No what?” Victor asked faintly.

“There are no taverns, no inns. I mean, those kind of taverns.”

“Places to find some fun! Haha,” Narsen laughed, but his voice trailed off as Linda and Lilia shot him a fierce glare.

“Over a dozen murder cases, plus a dozen death row inmates to be hanged. In just a few months, more than thirty people have died in the Randell Fief!” Victor glanced at Lilia and Linda before asking, “Monkey, do you think that’s normal?”

“My Lord, I never encountered a situation where we had to hang criminals in Black Fortress Town or Redwood Town,” Monkey replied. “We’d beat those who broke the rules half to death. If that didn’t work, we’d just have to drag them out and bury them.”

Victor pointed at Monkey and said to the others with a smile, “This is why I chose Monkey to be magistrate. Professional matters should be left to professionals. The same goes for dealing with scoundrels among the freemen.”

“Monkey, do you know what a magistrate does?”

Manages security, of course! The words were on the tip of his tongue, but Monkey swallowed them back down. He had never been a magistrate and didn’t dare spout nonsense in front of his lord. So he said, “I await My Lord’s instructions.”

“The hyenas do the dirty work for the magistrate, and the magistrate does the dirty work for the lord,” Victor stated coolly. “Linda is a Lady; it’s no longer appropriate for her to continue serving as magistrate. And the first thing you’ll do after taking office is hang those murderers!”

On the surface, a magistrate was responsible for maintaining local security. Behind the scenes, they had to do many unsavory things for their lord. They controlled the local underground organizations, colluded with bandits and mercenaries, robbed caravans that entered the territory without permission, and dispersed refugee camps in the wilderness.

Victor had been planning to replace Linda for some time, but he had held off out of consideration for Narsen and the lack of a suitable candidate. It just so happened that Father Miller had questioned Victor: how could he let a pregnant woman carry out an execution order? Victor relayed Miller’s exact words to Narsen and his wife, and the couple immediately grew sullen. Victor then explained the ‘dirty work’ nature of the magistrate’s job, used the opportunity to relieve Linda of her duties, and even arranged a new job for her. In reality, Linda had long wanted to stop being the magistrate. She only wanted to manage Narsen’s fief and take care of their unborn child.

Linda had recommended an old mercenary to take over as magistrate, but Victor had rejected the idea. His excuse was that mercenaries weren’t familiar with the vile tricks of scoundrels, but the real reason was the separation of powers. The War Bear Mercenaries controlled the military of the Randell Fief, so they couldn’t be given control of its law and justice as well.

Victor chose Monkey.

Monkey was a scoundrel, perfect for dirty work. Plus, he was weak and isolated, with no choice but to cling tightly to Victor’s leg. Promoting Monkey to magistrate would not only quickly quell the strife among the freemen scoundrels, but he would also serve as a buffer between Victor and the members of the work point system.

“Monkey, the Randell Fief is different from other fiefs,” Victor said. “You must manage the security of the freemen, but my vassals and subjects are also under your jurisdiction. If any of them commit murder for profit, or bully men and rape women, do you dare to handle them?”

“I dare!” Monkey said decisively.

Victor nodded. “I have a basic requirement for the security of this fief. It doesn’t matter if scoundrels can become good men, but do not let honest, simple people turn into scoundrels! Do you understand?”

“My Lord, rest assured,” Monkey said respectfully. “I will whip those scoundrels into shape and make sure they don’t dare to oppress the honest folk!”

“Narsen, Linda, take Monkey to the Magistrate’s Office. While you’re at it, tell those guards that if they don’t cooperate with Magistrate Munk, they can go home and farm.” After giving his orders, Victor turned back to Monkey. “Perform well, and I guarantee you’ll live very comfortably. But also remember, Inspector Linda will be watching you!”

Narsen grinned and clapped Monkey on the shoulder. “Let’s go, Magistrate Munk!”

Monkey cast a fearful glance at Linda, then bowed to Victor and Lilia and excused himself.

After the three had left the meeting room, Lilia frowned and asked, “Victor, do you trust Monkey’s loyalty?”

“I don’t!” Victor shook his head and retorted, “More than three years ago, my vassals were just freemen. Did you trust their loyalty?”

Lilia hesitated for a moment before saying, “They’re still more reliable than Monkey. Why didn’t you choose the magistrate from among them?”

Victor’s voice grew grave. “Then have you considered this: if the vassal I chose as magistrate colluded with the other vassals, deceiving me from above and below, how much damage would that cause the family? If I killed them, the other vassals would all fear for their own safety, causing the core of the family to fall apart. So, should I kill them or not? Should I manage it or not?”

“This…”

“Loyalty is a precious quality, an unshakable belief that stems from a sense of belonging and identity. It takes a lord’s family a hundred years to cultivate truly loyal vassals. And freemen have no sense of belonging, so of course they have no loyalty!” Victor sighed. “The vassals of the House of Randell are all former freemen. How can I possibly expect their unwavering loyalty?”

Lilia retorted unconvinced, “I don’t know about the others, but all of us War Bear Mercenaries are completely loyal to our lord! Aren’t we freemen?”

“Correct.” Victor nodded and smiled. “That’s because you accepted me!”

“We accepted you?” Lilia’s wide, watery eyes blinked in confusion. “Clearly, it was our lord who accepted us!”

“You grew up in the mercenary company. Haven’t you ever noticed that you’re different from other freemen?” Victor explained, “You’re like a family, with a deep sense of belonging and identity with the company. ‘Never abandon a comrade’ is your creed. When the Ant-men besieged Hill Camp, I held out until the very end and didn’t abandon anyone. It was only from that moment on that the War Bear Mercenaries truly accepted me. That’s why you are all so loyal to me.”

Lilia nodded silently.

“The members of the work point system don’t have the creed of a mercenary company, so how could I possibly trust their loyalty? Besides, people are the most fickle of creatures. A lazy person might become diligent, just as a simple person might become a scoundrel. Sometimes it’s a momentary whim; other times it’s due to a change in environment.”

Victor said coolly, “To be honest, even the War Bear Mercenaries will change, let alone the other vassals.”

“No! They won’t change,” Lilia said stubbornly, but her voice grew weaker. She had indeed noticed a trend of members comparing themselves to one another.

“Whether they change or not, what I want to tell you is that as the head of the family, you must not pin the family’s future on others.” Victor continued, “The foundation of the House of Randell is too shallow; we simply cannot guarantee the loyalty of our subordinates! But we can guarantee the loyalty of the organization!”

“The organization’s loyalty?”

“Yes! An organization with a perfected system. Even if a few individual members betray the organization, it won’t have a huge impact. If everyone betrays it, well, then that’s our problem,” Victor said.

Lilia blinked her eyes and asked in a sweet voice, “Darling, what is an organization with a perfected system?”

“Well…” Victor’s face went stiff with embarrassment. The Leasehold Employment System was just him copying a centralized system; he didn’t actually know the theory behind it.

Victor cleared his throat and said, “In short, the Earth would keep spinning even if someone disappeared!”

“What is Earth?” Lilia pressed on curiously.

“That’s not the point!” Victor said, feigning composure. “What I mean is, you get paid to do a job. If you can’t do it well, you get lost and someone else will do it!”

“What about me?” Lilia asked in alarm.

“Darling, you are my legal partner, the Lady of the House of Randell. How could I ever abandon you?” Victor quickly explained. “But if you weren’t willing to manage the family’s internal affairs, I’d have to find a steward and give him your annual stipend. You should understand now, the stipend is prepared for the position.”

Lilia nodded thoughtfully and asked, “Are you planning to replace the village heads?”

“I can promote a freeman to magistrate, and I can make a freeman a village head! Of course, this is just an exception. I generally won’t let freemen hold important positions again.” Victor shook his head. “But, the future is hard to predict. Who knows if our officials will betray the family, or meet with some misfortune. We can’t just let village affairs grind to a halt because we’re missing a village head, can we? Besides, our current village heads haven’t seen much of the world. With so much power in their hands, they can easily be won over and corrupted by those with ulterior motives.”

“To avoid this situation, first, we must have a separation of powers. We cannot entrust all the power of a village to a single village head. Second, we need to effectively supervise the family’s officials and stewards. Lastly, we need to establish a relatively fair system of rewards and punishments.”

“I’ve already completed the separation of powers. The Inspector and Magistrate can also serve a supervisory role. But you need to perfect the details of the supervision, and you also need to come up with a method for assessing, rewarding, and punishing officials and stewards.”

Lilia pouted coquettishly. “You teach me.”

“I’m not doing it! You get a stipend, you do the work!” Victor waved his hand magnanimously. “But I can tell you this: you must keep the power of personnel appointments firmly in your hands. Do not delegate it to the village heads! Also, register every freeman family that has built a house and moved in as part of the registered population. From now on, they are our subjects. I’m going to Black Fortress Town tomorrow. I hope you’ll have all of this taken care of by the time I get back.”

“You just like to bully me!” Lilia stomped her foot playfully.

Victor pulled the little beauty into his arms and teased, “Darling, I just love bullying you.”

Chapter 255: The Hired Laborers, Monkey and Narsen (Part 1)

In the third month of the Season of Fire, the construction of the castle in the Randell Fief was in its final stages, yet over a thousand people still busied themselves on the work site.

Alda was one of them. The powerfully built man in his thirties was carrying a rattan basket full of cobblestones, scaling the spiral steps along the edge of a tower. The scorching sun beat down on his sweat-drenched back, revealing taut, corded muscles under his bronze skin. He looked incredibly strong and sturdy. The basket, weighing over two hundred pounds, seemed as light as a feather to Alda. In no time at all, he reached the top of the tower.

The castle’s towers were a critical part of its defenses and needed to be carefully fortified. The tower walls consisted of three layers. The inner and outer walls were built with squared stones mortared with a special paste unique to the Randell Fief, making them exceptionally strong. The space between the inner and outer walls was filled with cobblestones, gravel, and mortar. These materials had to be carried up by the workers, bit by bit.

Hauling building materials up the tower was not a job for just anyone.

The tower stood more than forty meters above the ground. Even looking down would make a timid person’s legs go soft, let alone carrying a heavy load along the narrow steps. Men doing this work needed not only strength but also courage and a careful hand. Despite this, someone always fell to their death during the construction of a castle tower. For this reason, Alda earned fourteen Copper Sols a day, double the wage of an ordinary worker.

Alda had worked on many castle towers, and though the Randall family paid the least, he didn’t complain one bit. The Randall family’s foremen had ordered three layers of safety nets installed around the tower. Even if someone were to slip and fall, they would be caught by a net. As long as they weren’t struck in a vital spot by the heavy load on their shoulders, their life would be saved. Moreover, the Randall family offered very high compensation, though so far, no one had needed to claim this death benefit.

The three layers of nets greatly boosted the workers’ courage. Every time Alda saw this safety measure, a warmth spread through his heart.

The last rays of the setting sun cast a long, slanted shadow from the castle. It was time to clock off. Alda and the other workers in his group lined up to receive their day’s wages.

Weighing the Copper Sols in his hand, Alda said to a fellow worker beside him, “Kerry, I’ll treat you to a good meal.” Then he turned and called out to several other companions, “Everyone, come along.”

“Alda, you’re not going to treat us to ground-potato and wheat porridge, are you?” the man named Kerry said with a playful glint in his eyes. “There’s got to be some pig’s head meat, right?”

“Fine!” Alda said through gritted teeth. “Pig’s head meat it is.”

Kerry licked his lips and grinned. “Then let’s go to the Goat Tavern. Their pig’s head meat has the biggest portions, and it’s cheap.”

The other freemen laborers exchanged glances. They had traveled with Alda for over a decade, enduring the elements and sticking together for survival. They knew each other through and through, like blood brothers. They were well aware that Alda was not well-off; he had two women and four children at home to support and normally wouldn’t even part with a single Copper Sol. Why would he suddenly offer to treat Kerry, that freeloader of a cheapskate, to pig’s head meat?

“Alda’s treating! What are you all standing around for?”

Kerry turned back and called to them gleefully. The laborers pushed their doubts aside and quickly followed.

The castle was right next to River Mouth Town. After walking some eight hundred meters along the Iron-oak fence, the group arrived at the drawbridge of the town’s South Gate.

On the drawbridge, two guards were meticulously checking each person’s wooden tag.

The Randell Fief was different from other territories. Here, the lord allowed freemen laborers to live in the towns, but every laborer had to show his wooden tag to the guards to enter.

Alda’s wooden tag was only the size of his palm. A triangle was carved on the front, and on the back were two sets of numbers, 4 and 49, which stood for House 49, District 4, Laketon. This was, in fact, the address of Alda’s family in Laketon.

Every freeman laborer in the Randell Fief had a wooden tag like this, which the Randall family stewards called a residence permit. Only with a residence permit could a freeman be hired by the Randall family.

It wasn’t easy for a freeman to obtain a residence permit for the Randell Fief.

More than half a year ago, Alda, along with three companions and their families, had traveled from Bryat’s fief to the Randell Fief to make a living. The guards at the border outpost questioned them in detail about their identities, skills, and purpose for coming. After inspecting their belongings, Alda’s self-defense dagger was confiscated, but the guards didn’t just take it; they compensated him with twenty Silver Sols. A guard told Alda he could buy his weapon back when he left the Randell Fief.

Despite the strict screening, Alda’s companion, Erwin, was refused entry because he was a bachelor. The Randall family guards prohibited bachelors from entering.

That was the rule back then. A family could sponsor one bachelor, but if he got into trouble in the Randell Fief, the sponsoring family would also be expelled. In the end, Alda’s entire family acted as guarantors, and only then was Erwin allowed to enter.

After the guards let them pass, Alda’s group was not sent directly to Laketon but was taken to a temporary camp set up by the Church. The Church attendant in charge of the camp assigned them a small area to rest and bathe. He also gave them medical check-ups, treated their injuries, and provided free food and potions. On the third day, a Randall family steward explained the available jobs to all the freemen, including farming, pig rearing, herding, building the castle and roads, weaving, and digging irrigation canals, along with the corresponding wages. Those who did not agree could take two days’ rations and return the way they came. Those who agreed were led by the steward to River Mouth Town to be settled.

Alda only learned later that the temporary camp was funded by the lord of Randell. Besides helping the Church provide relief aid to refugees, it also served as a quarantine measure to prevent outsiders from spreading plagues.

Upon entering River Mouth Town, a Randall family steward arranged housing for Alda’s family. Since Erwin was a bachelor, he was assigned to the barracks. When Alda saw the green brick house assigned to him, he was stunned. He nervously told the steward that he had no money to pay rent. The steward informed Alda that the housing was free, but cooking was not allowed inside; food could be purchased at the main mess hall in Laketon. Then he gave each of them a wooden tag—the residence permit.

“Good day, Sir Angus. Good day, Sir Gaster.”

Kerry greeted the guards attentively as he handed over his wooden tag. The guard finished his inspection and his lips twitched, which served as a response to Kerry. “Go on in.”

“Thank you, sirs.”

Kerry took back his wooden tag, beaming, and turned to his workmates with an expression that said, “See? I’m tight with the guards.”

In truth, the freemen laborers went in and out of the South Gate every day, so Alda and the others had long since become familiar with the guards at the bridge. It was just that these two guards were stern and impartial, recognizing only the tags, not the faces. Sucking up to them was completely useless.

Once, Kerry had carelessly lost his residence permit. Relying on his supposed familiarity with the guards, he tried to get into town. But the two guards refused to bend the rules in the slightest and blocked his way. In the end, the foreman of Kerry’s work group had to come and vouch for him before the guards let him in. For that, the steward gave Kerry a harsh scolding and fined him five days’ wages.

The men put their wooden tags away and followed the crowd through the South Gate.

Laketon was five square kilometers in size. The southern area was the residential district for freemen laborers, and Alda’s family of seven lived in independent dormitory #49. The roads here were clean and tidy, lined with verdant ornamental trees. The green brick houses were neatly arranged on either side of the roads, making it look even more beautiful than the Vassal District of other towns.

Alda had never imagined he would one day live in a brick house. In fact, in any other fief, they would have had to build shanties to live in on some open ground outside a town. But the House of Randell not only allowed freemen laborers to live within the town fence but also provided free, independent green brick houses for their families. Of course, only the laborers in Laketon enjoyed such treatment; the other villages only offered traditional earth-and-wood huts. However, Alda had heard that freemen living in the villages were allowed to forage for berries and wild vegetables and keep twenty percent of what they gathered—a privilege usually reserved for the lord’s subjects.

The living environment in Laketon was excellent, and the rules were strict. Littering and public urination were forbidden, and pedestrians had to walk on the right. Those who dared to violate the rules were fined for minor offenses or whipped for more serious ones. Repeat offenders were escorted out of the territory.

At first, Alda found it a little hard to get used to, but over time, he grew to love the cleanliness and orderliness. Whenever he and his companions saw newcomers being punished, they felt an inexplicable sense of superiority, much like how subjects looked down on refugees.

Following the straight, green brick-paved street, Alda and his companions reached the town square of Laketon. Father Miller’s small Church was located here. On rest days, freemen laborers liked to gather in the square to listen to Father Miller’s teachings. But for the past couple of days, people had been walking around it.

A row of gallows stood in the center of the square, with a dozen corpses hanging from them. As dusk fell, a few guards lit two bonfires next to the gallows. The grotesque faces of the corpses flickered in and out of sight in the firelight. This terrifying scene sent a shiver down Alda’s spine, but at the same time, he felt an indescribable sense of satisfaction.

“Hmph! Serves them right to be hanged!”

Kerry spat viciously in the direction of the corpses. Erwin also gloated, “That’s right! Hang these villains who are rotten to the core!”

Recently, with the construction of the castle and the reservoir in the Randell Fief, the labor had become increasingly heavy, requiring more able-bodied men. The Randall family had gradually relaxed the restrictions on bachelors. In just over four months, more than three thousand people had poured into the Randell Fief, over half of whom were bachelors. Their arrival eased the workload of the freemen laborers but also created many problems.

Wherever there are people, there is conflict. Among the bachelors were plenty of vicious men who formed gangs. It would have been one thing if they only fought amongst themselves, but many others were dragged in. Erwin, a bachelor, lived in the barracks, which were called collective dormitories. Kerry’s family didn’t work in Laketon, so he also lived in the collective dormitories. Ever since a gang of bachelors moved in, the dormitories had known no peace. They caused trouble, extorted others, and coerced their dorm-mates into joining their gangs. Erwin and Kerry were often beaten black and blue for refusing to join.

Later, these thugs discovered that the Randell Fief had few guards and that the magistrate was a beautiful pregnant woman. They became more and more audacious, gradually forming three factions that fought both openly and in secret. The conflict spiraled, escalating to bloodshed and even murder.

Just as a widespread panic was setting in among the freemen laborers, the Randall family acted decisively. The guard detachment rounded up the murderers and gang leaders in one fell swoop. Immediately after, the lord issued a death sentence. The new magistrate pronounced them guilty and carried out the execution herself, then had the corpses hung for public display for three days!

On the day of the execution, the square was packed. As the condemned men twitched and struggled in their nooses, the cheers from the crowd roared like a tidal wave.

Since then, order had returned to Laketon.

Chapter 256: Hired Laborers, Monkey and Narsen (Part 2)

Passing through the square district, they arrived at Laketon’s commercial street. Both sides of the street were lined with three-story green brick buildings, with shops on the ground floor and living quarters or warehouses above. However, though the buildings on the commercial street were grand and beautiful, not many shops were open for business. There were only three general stores, two taverns, and one inn, and business for all of them was mediocre.

The first shop on the commercial street, from south to north, was the Goat Tavern. The tavern had three stories; the ground floor served common wine and meat dishes, the second floor housed a high-end restaurant, and the top floor contained the guest rooms.

Pushing open the heavy Iron-oak doors, they were met with a wave of boisterous noise. Dozens of tallow candles lit the spacious great hall brightly. More than half of the dozen or so tables were occupied, and the aroma of meat and wine, mingled with the smell of sweat, made Alda and his group’s stomachs growl with anticipation.

The Purple Cane wine and pork head served on the first floor of the Goat Tavern were of excellent quality and reasonably priced, making them a favorite among the freemen laborers. It was said that the partners who owned the auberge were true vassals of the Randell Fief. They had deep connections, enjoyed the lively atmosphere, and weren’t too concerned about how much money they made. Those freemen who were good at currying favor always wanted to make their faces known to the vassal lords and often brought people to patronize the establishment. Over time, it had become the busiest shop on the commercial street. However, the vassal lords only gathered on the second floor, and the prices up there were more than the average person could afford. A rumor circulated that the food sold on the second floor was a collection of delicacies personally cooked by the private mess hall’s master chef—and the private mess hall was where the lord himself feasted his honored guests!

Alda dared not dream of dining in the private mess hall, but he felt that ascending to the second floor was the goal he should strive for.

After staring at the staircase leading upstairs for a moment, Alda led his group to an empty table and sat down. A tavern waiter came over and asked, “What can I get for you?”

“Half a portion of pork head… No! A whole portion!” Kerry shouted impatiently.

“Two whole portions! And five bowls of ground-potato and wheat gruel, and a plate of lettuce,” Alda said in a deep voice.

Kerry was taken aback for a second, then chuckled. “Well, aren’t you generous…”

At the Goat Tavern, half a portion of pork head weighed three pounds and cost eight Copper Sols, while a full portion was six pounds for fifteen Copper Sols. Two bowls of ground-potato and wheat gruel cost one Copper Sol, and a large plate of lettuce was half a Copper Sol. Alda’s order would cost a total of thirty-three Copper Sols, nearly two and a half days of his wages.

The wages the Randell Fief paid its freemen laborers were less than half of what other houses offered. Alda had a family of seven. He earned fourteen Copper Sols a day from his labor. One of his two women worked at the textile workshop, earning six Copper Sols a day, while the other worked at the wild boar farm for four Copper Sols a day. His four children could also earn one Copper Sol a day by gathering firewood, collecting cow dung, and digging for wild vegetables. The family’s total daily income was a meager twenty-five Copper Sols.

However, the food provided by House Randell was exceptionally cheap, and the benefits here were unprecedented among the noble houses.

Not to mention the rent-free housing, laborers received a free, filling lunch every day. Laborers like Alda, who performed heavy physical work, were even given fatty pork every three days. His children, who were under fifteen, received a ground lizard egg each day, and the Church provided each freeman family with a ground lizard every month. Alda’s family’s daily expenses were mainly for breakfast and dinner. They spent two Copper Sols on a simple breakfast, and at most four Copper Sols for dinner. By this calculation, Alda’s family could save nineteen Copper Sols a day. In other fiefs, saving twelve Copper Sols was considered quite good.

Despite this, the freemen laborers were still reluctant to spend money on food and drink. Some families even skipped breakfast. Because the Randell Fief’s brick kiln required a large amount of firewood, freemen laborers were forbidden from cooking their own meals and could only buy prepared food from the main mess hall. To save money, freemen families commonly pooled their resources to solve the problem of dinner.

Alda and his men had such a group meal plan with Kerry. Kerry’s family was one of the first freemen families to come to the Randell Fief to make a living, and they had something Alda and the others envied greatly: a private plot! Kerry’s family of eleven had a private plot of 1.1 mu, which produced more vegetables than they could eat. The surplus could only be sold to the main mess hall at a low price. When later arrivals came to the Randell Fief, these families with private plots found a new option. They would buy ground-potato and wheat gruel from the main mess hall and sell it to the newcomers along with their own homegrown vegetables. The vegetables were raw, of course, but Alda and his men discovered that the dinner Kerry provided was one Copper Sol cheaper than the main mess hall’s. Thus, the two parties struck a deal. The steward of the main mess hall turned a blind eye to such matters, and so Alda’s group and Kerry became acquaintances and friends.

Eating vegetables all the time eventually becomes bland and tasteless. When the juicy, steaming pork head was placed on the table, everyone couldn’t help but swallow hard, their mouths watering. Since they were friends, there was no need for courtesy. The men rolled up their sleeves and began to feast.

After drinking a large pot of hot ground-potato and wheat gruel, Alda wiped the sweat from his face and spoke, “Kerry, I need to borrow some money from you.”

Kerry, who was in the middle of tearing at a pig’s ear, was so startled that he had to struggle to swallow the food in his mouth. He mumbled, “Uh, I knew there was a catch to you treating us. What do you need money for?”

“I’ve been a wanderer for over ten years, and I’ve never seen a place as good as this…” Alda let out a breath and said sullenly, “I don’t want to run anymore… I want to settle down in the Randell Fief.”

The weariness in his voice silenced Alda’s companions, but Kerry’s eyes flickered as he said, “Then settle down. If you work here for three years, you’ll become a subject one way or another. Then you can rent eighty mu of land and keep thirty percent of the harvest. Your family will definitely live a better life.”

“You know what I mean!” Alda stared into Kerry’s eyes. “It costs thirty Gold Sols to build a house and establish residency. I’m short four Gold Sols. Help me out. As long as I get selected to be a steward or a soldier, I guarantee I’ll pay you back six Gold Sols within two years!”

“Are you crazy!” Kerry glanced around and lowered his voice. “This is a Pioneer Fief! You people have never seen how terrifying the Ant-men are… To throw your money at this is like tossing it into the water! Besides, don’t you have a green brick house to live in?”

Alda asked in a low voice, “Just one word! Are you going to help me or not?!”

“I don’t have the money!”

Kerry turned his face away. Alda shook his head in disappointment. Erwin couldn’t help but choke up. “Chief, it’s all my fault for causing trouble in Vistock and getting you involved…” As he spoke, he pointed at Kerry and cursed, “Kerry, you ungrateful two-legged sheep! A few days ago, you were flashing your money around. If the Chief hadn’t helped you drive off those thugs, you’d have been buried in a ditch by now!”

“Chief, don’t beg him! I have twenty Silver Sols here, take them all!”

“That’s right! Let’s all pitch in. I have thirteen Silver Sols here.”

The disgusted looks from the others made Kerry’s face turn pale, then flush. He wanted to lash out, but seeing Alda’s ox-like build, he held himself back. He forced a bitter smile. “It’s not that I won’t help… it’s just really not worth it! Where’s the logic in a freeman spending money to build a house?”

“I’ll tell you the truth! My father is on very good terms with Village Head George from the second village. A few days ago, Village Head George came to my father and asked him to put up money to build a house, but my father brushed him off. My father said, whoever spends money to build a house is a fool!”

“Think about it, thirty Gold Sols is no small sum. Why would it cost so much to build a green brick house? There are rumors that Lord Father Miller will guarantee a refund, but who knows if that’s true?”

“Which of the family stewards or soldiers didn’t come from a vassal family? When has such a good opportunity ever fallen to a freeman? You actually believe that! And even if you build a house, you won’t get a private plot! All you get is a couple of wild boars each year. How many years would you have to raise pigs to make that money back? I think it’s a scam to get our money!”

Seeing the uncertain expressions on Erwin and the others, Kerry said smugly, “My father is the one who thinks things through. We can’t let the noble lords scam us out of our money! If the Ant-men come again, our family will just pack up and run. If the Ant-men are held back, we’ll still become subjects in two years without having to spend money on a house, right?”

Rabble is rabble! Utterly clueless! Alda sneered inwardly.

It was true that Alda was a freeman, but no one knew that he was actually the second son of a vassal family from the Dodor Kingdom. He had received a vassal’s education since childhood and was an Elite Soldier. If the Sassans hadn’t broken through his family’s manor, Alda would never have ended up as a refugee in the Centaur Hills.

From Alda’s perspective, joining a new and rising house in a Pioneer Fief like Randell’s offered plenty of opportunities for advancement. Moreover, new houses placed great importance on the fief’s order and the family’s reputation. Those ruffians still acted according to the lawless rules of freemen; it would be strange if they weren’t hanged. The notice about building a house to establish residency had already been posted, bearing Viscount Randell’s wax seal. There was no room for doubt! Furthermore, the six hundred housing slots meant six hundred subject families. The Randell Fief would never allow everyone to become a family subject. By refusing the village head’s invitation, Kerry’s family was practically walking into a dead end.

Alda was proficient in martial arts and skilled with various weapons. He was not content to be a mere refugee leader. In fact, refugee leaders often met violent ends. Alda had, on several occasions, abandoned his refugee bands, taking only a few loyal brothers with him to make a living.

“So what if the Randell Fief is a Pioneer Fief? If there’s a chance to become a vassal, most people would risk their lives for it. To fail to seize such an opportunity, now that is true foolishness! A pity I have no money,” Alda sighed in his heart. He said淡淡地, “Forget it, then. I’ll figure something else out.”

Kerry secretly breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t want to lose customers like Alda, and his family wasn’t the only one with a private plot.

Just then, a voice cut in.

“I’ll lend it to you!”

Everyone looked in the direction of the voice and saw two guests from the next table standing up. One was sturdy and fierce, the other small and thin. The speaker was the slender young man. He had a warm smile on his face that seemed very friendly, but Kerry and his friends looked as if they had seen a ghost and began to tremble.

Three days ago, it was this same young man who had personally hanged over a dozen prisoners, and the smile on his face then was identical to the one he wore now.

“What’s your name?” the young man asked, walking up to Alda.

Alda quickly stood up and said respectfully, “Lord Magistrate, my name is Alda. I’m a refugee from Dodor.”

The young man looked at Alda’s tall and sturdy build, then at the old calluses on his fingers. They weren’t the marks of manual labor, but the kind of calluses formed from years of archery.

“You should know who I am,” the young man said warmly. “But I’ll introduce myself anyway. I am Viscount Randell’s magistrate, Munk.”

Alda quickly bowed. Monkey patted his shoulder, signaling that he didn’t need to be so formal. “You want to build a house and establish residency, but you’re a little short on money? No problem, I can lend it to you. However, when the time comes to select stewards, you must choose to become a soldier in the Magistrate’s Office. How about it?”

“Lord Munk, if you are willing to lend me the money, I will definitely—”

Just as Alda was overcome with excitement, another powerful, resonant voice came from the direction of the stairs.

“Monkey, the lord has ordered that My Lady will be in charge of all recruitment of stewards and soldiers! When did it become your place to interfere?”

Seeing Narsen approaching with a group of War Bear Mercenaries, Monkey cursed his luck inwardly.

The soldiers Linda had left at the Magistrate’s Office were disrespectful to the new magistrate, but Monkey didn’t see that as a big deal. What he hadn’t forgotten were Victor’s instructions: manage the freemen, but also manage the vassals.

Controlling the freemen was second nature to Monkey, but supervising the vassals was not so easy. Monkey felt that he couldn’t use a single one of the magistrate soldiers who came from vassal families; he needed to find new men. For the past few days, Monkey had been loitering at the Goat Tavern, hoping to find a few capable men. He hadn’t expected Narsen to intervene the moment he’d found a promising candidate.

How could Narsen not know that Monkey had been spending all his time at the Goat Tavern? Although Narsen was on the second floor, with the enhanced Perception from his Spirit Monkey Mystic Form, he could hear the commotion downstairs with perfect clarity.

Narsen looked down on Monkey from the bottom of his heart and didn’t trust him. He felt it was his duty to keep an eye on Monkey, as if he were doing a favor for his Inspector wife. So, the moment Monkey started recruiting, Narsen immediately came down. But when he saw Alda, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of desire himself. With Narsen’s eye for talent, it wasn’t hard to see that Alda had received strict military training and was a man of extraordinary skill and martial prowess.

Narsen and Monkey shared the same problem: a lack of manpower. The first moment he saw Alda, he decided to recruit this man for his guard detachment, or more accurately, for the mercenary army.

Victor called the Aides’ soldiers the House of Randell’s mercenary army. Not mercenaries, a mercenary army! Narsen couldn’t quite grasp the distinction, but he believed it was always right to listen to Lord Victor!

“Alda, is it? You lot want to be in the mercenary army? However much you’re short for building your houses, I’ll lend it to you!” Narsen said, patting his chest. “Whether you become a steward or a soldier is entirely up to you, and in the end, My Lady Lilia will decide if you’re suitable. No one else can interfere!”

Narsen turned to Monkey and said mockingly, “Isn’t that right, Magistrate Munk?”

As long as you don’t poach him, he’ll end up in my hands anyway! My Lady Lilia is my own sister!

“Lord Narsen, what are you doing here?” Monkey said with utmost respect.

Dammit! When I interfere with recruitment, it’s breaking the rules, but when you snatch people away, it’s perfectly fine?

Narsen smiled triumphantly. “The Goat Tavern is a little business started by a few of my old pals. Of course I’m here.”

This is my turf. On my turf, I’m the boss. You want to recruit people here… get lost!

Monkey glanced around at the silent freemen laborers in the great hall and smiled. “Business is really good. I was thinking of taking a page out of Boss John’s book and opening a Monkey Tavern across the street.”

I’m the magistrate. Who among these freemen laborers would dare disrespect me? I’m Monkey, I have no shame. What are you going to do, bite me?

Narsen laughed out loud. “On your opening day, the Goat Tavern’s Purple Cane wine will be half price, and the pork head will be half off!”

I have more money. You think you can compete with me?

Monkey’s expression changed drastically. He said sheepishly, “I’ll be going now. As for opening a shop, let’s wait until the lord returns to discuss it, shall we?”

You’re ruthless! We’ll let the lord settle this.

“Good! Hahaha.”

Monkey and Hamil left in dejection. Narsen roared with laughter. He felt that thwarting this scoundrel who had once plotted against him was more satisfying than defeating a Knight.

Chapter 257: A Fierce Man

April in the Season of Fire, when the roses were in bloom,

In the early morning, Rose Manor was filled with fragrance. Winding vines already covered one side of the courtyard wall, and clusters of roses bloomed on the wall of green leaves, looking like a multicolored floral curtain from afar. Crystalline dewdrops dotted them, sparkling like diamonds in the morning sun.

Sylvia draped herself in a hanging chair, a smile on her red lips, one arm crossed over her chest, the other cupping her chin. Her brilliant golden hair spilled carelessly over her shoulders like sunlight, and her elegant, fair calves swayed gently beneath the hem of her pale yellow skirt. Her posture was languid, her expression enchanting.

The knightly nobles were undoubtedly a group favored by the world’s laws. In terms of looks and temperament alone, most male nobles were handsome and upright, while the noblewomen were all beautiful and charming. Among them, the nobles of the Kingdom of Sus were the most outstanding.

Sylvia came from the Sus nobility and possessed the most stunning beauty, yet she showed none of the characteristic confidence and pride of a Knight. Compared to Roland’s pure sincerity, Sophia’s seductive allure, Gillian’s cold and lofty arrogance, or Nicole’s blend of strength and gentleness, Sylvia lacked a distinct, unforgettable quality. She seemed less like a powerful Spirit Knight and more like an exquisite noblewoman enjoying a life of leisure.

When Victor first met Sylvia, he thought she was just a common noblewoman of loose character. As time went on, Victor found that only the word ‘perfect’ could describe this woman. Her skin was smooth and delicate, her hair uniformly flawless; even with Victor’s extraordinary vision, he couldn’t find a single imperfection. Every line of her body fit the definition of perfection. A seemingly casual frown or smile, a simple movement—all of it interpreted the meaning of elegance. A single glance from her could convey her thoughts, as if the etiquette training of the nobility was tailor-made for her, or perhaps, it was merely imitating her.

In fact, the etiquette training of the nobility did indeed imitate Pinnacle Knights. Even if they couldn’t reach the legendary realm, they strove to emulate Gold Knights; otherwise, they couldn’t embody the nobility of the knight’s bloodline. As Victor practiced the Golden Toad Mystic Form, awakened his Bloodline talents, and gradually touched upon the laws of the world, he came to see that Gold Knights communicated with the Elemental Sea, which represented the world’s origin, and had already reached a state of Oneness with nature. Every move they made possessed a beauty that conformed to the laws of nature, subtly influencing the senses of others.

Sylvia was a fire-element Gold Knight, the pinnacle of Pinnacle Knights. Her spiritual will manifested outwardly. When she wanted to be noticed, no one could ignore her; when she wanted to hide, enemies would find it difficult to sense her presence. This was precisely the highest realm described in the Golden Toad Mystic Form: to do as one pleases, to be omnipresent.

This was also why Sylvia was not surrounded by men. She looked down on those who were easily influenced by her; they would only feel that the Duchess was awesomely inviolable, and a sense of their own inadequacy would arise spontaneously. On the other hand, Extraordinary Knights who were not so easily influenced could sense the brilliant might beneath her beautiful exterior. High-rank Knights each had their own understanding and pursuit of the knightly path, and the last thing they wanted was to be influenced by others and have their convictions shaken. If they didn’t want to sever their own path as a Knight, who would dare pursue Sylvia?

To reach the summit and find no one to stand beside you—such is the life of a Spirit Knight.

Only Victor had received Sylvia’s favor. At first, he had been smug about his own charm, but he gradually discovered that a single teasing glance from Sylvia could ignite his most primal impulses, and a warm smile could make him feel her tender affection, or a sense of carefree ease. Yet, he could only occasionally affect Sylvia’s emotions. Victor finally understood that his intimate relationship with Sylvia was not one of equals. She always held the initiative; he was the weaker party.

Victor admitted that he greatly enjoyed being close to Sylvia and found it hard to resist her charm, but Sylvia was different from the other women who adored him. She had never indulged in carnal love.

Fortunately, Sylvia was becoming more relaxed in her “pressure” on Victor. Ever since Victor manifested the wind element, she no longer easily used her charms on him, instead striving to create a cordial and relaxed atmosphere. Especially during this reunion, Victor clearly sensed Sylvia’s eager anticipation.

Victor knew what Sylvia was anticipating. This woman had been sending him a message all along: We are very close, but I don’t need a devoted admirer at my feet. Only by walking shoulder to shoulder with me can you win my heart!

The feeling of being a backup option wasn’t pleasant, even if he was the only one.

Victor stepped forward and struck, unleashing his frustration and resentment with his fist. A deafening crack echoed through the air, concluding his Ox-Subduing Mystic Form training.

A fresh and familiar fragrance wafted to Victor’s nose. Unbeknownst to him, Sylvia was already standing by his side.

“Do you practice this body-refining technique every day?”

Victor’s eyebrow shot up as he said proudly, “Of course! Haven’t you noticed my stamina getting better and better?”

“I found out last night. You’ve awakened another new talent.” Sylvia’s eyes danced as she chuckled. “The effect is quite good.”

Exposed by Sylvia about the mystery of his auras, Victor couldn’t help but blush, left speechless and embarrassed.

“Incredible!”

“What? Are you talking about last night?”

Sylvia rolled her eyes and said coquettishly, “Your punch just now was incredible.”

Following Sylvia’s gaze, Victor saw the deep footprints on the lawn, marks left from his practice of the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form.

“This is nothing for a Knight, is it?” Victor said, unconcerned.

Sylvia studied Victor’s face carefully, as if trying to find something unusual, then her face broke into a smile. “At the Knight stage, any body-refining technique becomes trivial. But the tedious practice itself is for honing one’s will and physique, and this involves the process of overcoming emotions. One must transform anger, fear, cruelty, cold-bloodedness, and excitement into one’s own power, rather than being controlled by these negative emotions.”

“This technique your subordinate created…”

“Ox-Subduing Mystic Form.”

“It is indeed a sophisticated body-refining technique.” Sylvia nodded slightly and said, “But it has no training for overcoming emotions. In traditional martial arts training, instructors will always use merciless lashings and harsh reprimands to provoke a soldier’s emotions, thereby achieving the goal of tempering the mind. This might be related to your subordinate’s frequent real-combat experience. Since he can survive in battle, he has naturally overcome his negative emotions.”

“That punch of yours just now was filled with indignation. I don’t care about the reason.” Sylvia cast a half-smiling glance at Victor and continued, “As far as I know, you haven’t been practicing the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form for long, and before this, you’ve had almost no rigorous martial arts training. But in your first real battle, you shot down countless Gnolls and even faced an Ogre, as calm and decisive as a battle-hardened Knight. It seems you’re naturally untroubled by emotions like fear and hesitation.”

“This is the first time I’ve seen you act with emotion. That’s why I said it was incredible.” Sylvia sized Victor up a few more times and said with a purse of her lips, “So, it turns out you have a temper too, and you haven’t truly overcome it.”

The secret of X-3 naturally couldn’t be revealed. Victor could only say, “I don’t know why, but when I fight, my mind is highly focused. I can’t think of anything other than achieving my goal. His Highness Roland believes this is a fatal flaw.”

“Roland is right. I hadn’t noticed this point before.” Sylvia nodded and said, “It’s one thing if you’re naturally immune to the interference of negative emotions, but if you’re merely suppressing them… it will always be a flaw.”

“Is that a bad thing? Do you Pinnacle Knights also have negative emotions when you fight?” Victor asked, unconvinced.

“How could we not have emotions? It’s just that our will has perfectly controlled them.” Sylvia took Victor’s arm, and the two strolled through the courtyard, talking as they walked. “In fact, the very first thing a Pinnacle Knight does after surviving the washing of their will by the Elemental Sea is to rediscover all human emotions, including fear, anxiety, love, and so on. Otherwise, the Pinnacle Knight will be unable to escape the influence of the Elemental Sea, and before long, they will still be assimilated by the elements.”

“After I set foot in the legendary realm, I immediately went to the Northern Wildlands to find a monster that could kill me.” A look of reminiscence appeared on Sylvia’s beautiful face. “I encountered a manticore. That monster let me experience the taste of fear again. In the end, I turned its pelt into a sofa.”

“A manticore? A Gold-rank monster could threaten you?” Victor said in disbelief. “I thought you were invincible.”

“Invincible? What creature is truly invincible?” Sylvia explained, “No matter how powerful a Pinnacle Knight is, they are still limited by a human body. Some monsters are naturally far stronger than humans, like the white ape, the Hydra Lizard, and the legendary Dragons. Battling these creatures, I would likely not survive. Of course, they would also die from my counterattack.”

“Even among humans, a Spirit Knight cannot be called invincible. If three Pinnacle Knights led dozens of Great Knights in a life-or-death siege, they could certainly take down a Spirit Knight. So, I also need castles and armies!”

Victor stopped in his tracks, stared into her azure eyes, and said in a deep voice, “I promise that will never happen!” Sylvia burst out laughing. “Alright! I’ll look forward to your performance.”

“Mm,” Victor cleared his throat and said, “And then what?”

“What?”

“After you killed the manticore… you married Duke York?”

“Enbise? I owed him a favor, but he had already lost interest in me.” Sylvia nodded, then turned her head and teased Victor, “My dear, are you jealous?”

“Yes. I am jealous.” Victor wanted to deny it, but seeing Sylvia’s radiant and charming face, he simply admitted it. Then he added, “Actually, I wanted to ask you about Spirit Knights having children. I talked to Marquess Golan, but he didn’t go into detail.”

“Hmph! So you admit it, but then you use a question to brush me off.” Sylvia snorted in dissatisfaction but explained nonetheless, “It is difficult for those with a knight’s bloodline to have children, especially for Knights who have resonated with thirty-six elemental nodes. They are constantly interacting with the four void elements, making them truly Extraordinary Knights. If an Extraordinary Knight wants to have offspring with a partner, they must completely relax their body and mind, returning to the essence of a mortal. During this process of indulgence, the elemental nodes of both partners will resonate.”

“A Spirit Knight has a fire element affinity, and the violent nature of the fire element will shatter the elemental nodes of their knight partner. And a mortal’s bloodline is even less capable of withstanding the bloodline of a Spirit Knight.” Sylvia said lightly, “Flame Knights are all created by chance, possibly through bloodline mutation. In several thousand years, only Sword Saint Draven has had offspring with a Flame Knight, and both of their children entered the legendary realm.”

“Sword Saint Draven had a mutated bloodline with wind, fire, and water affinity.” Sylvia placed a light kiss on Victor’s lips and said softly, “Now, do you understand why everyone treasures you so much?”

My bloodline has nothing to do with X-3. This is all a misunderstanding!

Victor had no way to explain, so he could only scream inwardly while saying aloud, “What are your thoughts on Draven’s Flowing Fire Arrow scroll?”

“I can’t help you with that. It involves the arrangement of divine script, which is beyond what a Knight can comprehend.” Sylvia’s brows furrowed slightly as she shook her head and sighed. “It is said that divine script cannot be recorded; only clergy and Wizards can manifest it.” Then she smiled. “When Draven manifested the divine script, the Church hunted him down as a Wizard. He fought several great battles with the Radiant Knights, defeated all the legendary paladins, and even took the partner of the Radiant Knights’ commander, the legendary paladin Alijie. In the end, the children of Draven and Alijie also awakened the Paladin bloodline, and only then did the Church determine that Draven was not a Wizard.”

Proving his innocence in such a way… what a fierce man!

Victor was dumbstruck, filled with admiration for the Sword Saint.

Chapter 258: A Flower Blossoms As I Do

The combat technique scroll for Flowing Fire Arrow did not contain a specific training method, but rather a passage from Draven’s own experience. According to Draven’s account, after his bloodline mutation, his spiritual power grew stronger by the day. His black eyes eventually turned gold, and two divine scripts of different forms automatically appeared in his mind.

Draven was unable to describe the features of the divine scripts, but he could comprehend and manifest them. It seemed to be an instinct, much like that of a Wizard or certain monsters with extraordinary talents. Draven called the first divine script that formed in his mind the “initial” script and the second the “terminal” script. The initial divine script was related to the void’s fire element, while the terminal divine script connected to the Elemental Sea of fire.

After a period of exploration and experimentation, Draven successfully created the Flowing Fire Arrow.

To cast Flowing Fire Arrow, one must first manifest the initial divine script. At that moment, Draven’s spiritual power would multiply, enabling him to manifest the terminal divine script and connect with the fire Elemental Sea. Then, by manifesting the initial, terminal, initial, and initial scripts in sequence, the Flowing Fire Arrow would be successfully formed. The specific method was as follows: First, enhance one’s own spiritual power. Second, connect to the fire Elemental Sea. Third, enhance one’s spiritual power again. Fourth, manifest the fire element. Fifth, use spiritual power to bind the fire element to a Mithril arrow. Sixth, use spiritual power to guide the Flowing Fire Arrow to strike a target within 800 meters.

The Flowing Fire Arrow was incredibly fast and almost never missed. After hitting a target, the ignited flames could not be extinguished for five seconds. However, the power of the Flowing Fire Arrow was not merely in incinerating the body; it simultaneously struck the enemy’s soul, causing immense pain.

During his battle with the Ogre King, Draven first struck City-Breaker Vol’gan with a Flowing Fire Arrow. This legendary Ogre leader had high elemental resistance, and the arrow only managed to set him alight for two seconds. But in that brief two-second window, the Ogre Vol’gan’s mind descended into chaos. He immediately entered a berserk state, first pummeling himself, then frantically attacking everything around him after the flames died out. By the time Vol’gan regained his senses, he was already heavily injured, his spirit was weak, his reactions were sluggish, and he was unable to activate any of his innate skills. In the end, he fell to Draven’s sword.

Flowing Fire Arrow inflicted dual damage to both body and soul, making it a truly god-tier technique. Victor knew it was impossible for him to master such an innate combat technique, but the divine scripts within it piqued his interest.

Victor had been secretly collecting knowledge from the Alchemy Tower. Based on the information he had gathered so far, runes were undoubtedly the core technology in the construction of the Alchemy Tower. The Sword Saint’s description of the divine script’s function fit the theories of the Alchemy Tower, so Victor was almost certain that divine scripts were, in fact, runes.

The strange events in the Gloomy Forest had led Victor to several hypotheses about the Alchemy Tower.

First, the void’s water element was extremely abundant in the Gloomy Forest, yet the green runes on the Rune Crystal were severely damaged. This suggested that Alchemy Towers were built where the four major elements converged, but this elemental convergence could shift, which would in turn damage the tower. Second, both the Goat-Headed Monsters and the Ant-men were intricately linked to alchemical creatures. Did this mean that when an Alchemy Tower collapsed, its alchemical creatures would transform into natural beings? Or perhaps divine creatures? And would they turn against the master of the Alchemy Tower? Finally, while repairing the green runes, Victor had awakened a new talent: Activation. He suspected that Pinnacle Knights might be related to Alchemists.

The first two questions were difficult to answer for now, but the last one could perhaps be verified through Sylvia.

Victor pondered for a moment before asking, “My dear, the divine scripts of Flowing Fire Arrow are clearly related to the fire Elemental Sea. Can you truly not manifest them?”

“I cannot!” Sylvia shook her head gently.

Unwilling to give up, Victor pressed, “Might Knights of the legendary realm understand the secrets of divine scripts?”

“There is no such thing.”

Sylvia said, “A Knight’s power is unrelated to divine script. Not even the clergy or Wizards can memorize them, let alone understand their secrets.”

Seeing the disappointment on Victor’s face, Sylvia comforted him, “You don’t need to be in such a hurry. If you reach the level of a Sword Saint in the future, you will surely master Flowing Fire Arrow. It’s best to let nature take its course. For now, you should focus on making up for your own shortcomings.”

Victor immediately cast the matter of the runes out of his mind and said with a wide smile, “You’re right! First, I’ll work on my weaknesses.”

Anyone who knew Victor was aware that he had never truly honed his martial skills for an extended period. Before becoming a lord, he had no real combat experience, making him little more than a pretty face among the court nobles. Logically, Victor’s will to fight shouldn’t have been much stronger than an ordinary person’s; not being scared into a stupor by the Ogres was already a show of courage. Yet, Victor not only saved Nicole from the Ogres’ clutches, but the enemies he subsequently eliminated grew progressively more dangerous, even including a Silver Knight.

Victor’s performance defied all logic.

Fortunately, this was a world of extraordinary power, and everyone attributed Victor’s transformation to his Bloodline. However, Victor knew it was all because of the X-3.

The X-3 enhanced Victor’s brain, giving him a superior memory and computational ability. It drastically improved his physical coordination, allowed him to adjust his senses, weaken negative emotions, and maintain a high level of focus.

On Earth, a person equipped with the X-3 would be a veritable superman. Here, however, Knights were already accustomed to such abilities. The X-3 didn’t give Victor much of an advantage, but it did close the gap between him and other Knights. One could say that the X-3 was Victor’s greatest trump card.

Because the X-3 was an implant that mimicked a computer chip, it came with the inherent flaw of computational rigidity. Yet, Victor could no longer do without it. The training method Roland had provided, as absurd as it was, could resolve the X-3’s drawbacks. Moreover, Victor had a faint feeling that this training method could push the X-3 even further, allowing him to break through the limit of his 14-point Spirit attribute.

However, this required the cooperation of a Pinnacle Knight, and Sylvia was clearly the best candidate.

“My dear, you have to help me…”

Victor described the training method Roland had provided, then looked at Sylvia with eager eyes.

“A dance party? Nursery rhymes? Stepping on your feet? Only Roland could come up with such an unconventional method.” Sylvia didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, then sighed. “Using feelings of shame to distract you and achieve the training’s goal… I have to admit, it’s certainly effective. But are you sure you want me to step on your feet?”

“Of course!” Victor lifted his head, saying with spirited determination, “I’m willing to try any method that can increase my strength, especially to fix a fatal flaw.” Then he added, “Let’s be clear, I won’t use Wind Walk, and you can’t use your Aura…”

“Alright.” Sylvia raised a hand to tuck her hair behind her ear, smiling elegantly. “Are you ready?”

The X-3 quietly activated, directly entering the Overlimit state. Victor’s eyes turned indifferent, his tone icy.

“Come on! Urgh…”

Looking down, he saw Sylvia’s crystal shoe already on top of his foot. Victor gritted his teeth and retreated.

“Again!”

Sylvia said with a gentle smile, “Use your full strength, but stay within a two-meter radius.”

“Fine!”

Victor nodded. His Blind Sense was completely ineffective against Sylvia; even in the Overlimit state, he had no advantage in preemptive evasion. Since that couldn’t achieve the training’s goal, he might as well enter the Apocalypse state.

A light wind swirled around Victor’s body. Everything around him became clear and slow in his mind. He saw Sylvia lift her crystal shoe and slowly bring it down toward him. Inside the shoe was an exquisite, jade-like foot, slender yet full, as smooth and delicate as if carved from the finest white jade. At that moment, Victor had no romantic thoughts. His eyes saw only a constant stream of updating data—all about distance, speed, angle, and arc.

In 0.83 seconds, she will step on me. If I move back 6.2 centimeters at the 0.68-second mark, there is a 96% chance of evasion, with a maximum 41% margin for error.

It took Victor only 0.02 seconds to calculate the most logical evasion plan, and he immediately put it into action.

In the Apocalypse state, Victor’s speed was astonishing. Time was sliced into segments, and in his Perception, his own movements felt slow, but they were still much faster than Sylvia’s. Yet, as he watched Sylvia’s crystal shoe calmly land on his foot, his evasive action came to an abrupt halt.

“What’s going on? I was clearly much faster than you!”

Victor carefully replayed the process in his mind. At the 0.68-second mark, he had moved back 5 centimeters, which was precisely where Sylvia had stepped, as if he had deliberately cooperated with her.

“It’s no secret that a Spirit Knight can predict an opponent’s moves,” Sylvia said with a smile as she released Victor’s foot. “I know your intentions like the back of my hand. How could you possibly dodge me?”

“Then I can’t get any training from you,” Victor said, dejected.

“My dear, you misunderstand.” Sylvia shook her head. “The key isn’t evasion, but the activity of your will.”

“The state you were in just now was very unique. The fire element you mobilized perfectly commanded the wind element and your own movements, but the fluctuation of the fire element was very monolithic. If I weren’t a Pinnacle Knight, I probably wouldn’t have noticed this flaw.”

“What does that mean?” Victor asked uneasily.

“A monolithic fluctuation in the fire element represents a high degree of focus,” Sylvia explained. “Of course, focus itself isn’t a problem. The issue is that while your consciousness is calm, it shouldn’t be rigid. Your mind is concentrated, but it lacks variation.”

“Victor, the intensity of the fire element you command is only a little weaker than a Silver Knight’s, but your method of channeling it and its effects are far inferior. Moreover, your fire element is incompatible with you, as if it isn’t natural to you, but merely a tool…” Sylvia pondered for a moment. “That’s it! A Knight uses the fire element as if it were their own hands. You use the fire element as if you were wielding a sword.”

Victor’s face grew grim. “Then what should I do?” he asked heavily.

“My dear, don’t be discouraged.” Sylvia took Victor’s arm to comfort him. “You are not a Knight, so holding you to the standard of how a Knight channels their Aura isn’t necessarily correct. Perhaps this is part of your bloodline mutation. However,” Sylvia’s tone shifted, “being in harmony with an element itself is never wrong! You need to strive to integrate the fire element with your Bloodline, not reject it. Otherwise, I worry that the fire element you’ve gathered will eventually dissipate.”

“Damn it! I don’t have a clue,” Victor groaned. “Am I supposed to go find His Highness Roland to dance and sing nursery rhymes?”

Sylvia’s eyes twinkled as she giggled. “Using shame to stimulate your fire element is safe and effective, quite a good idea, actually! But you don’t have to go to Roland.”

“The gap between you and me is too great, and you can’t help me. If I don’t ask His Highness Roland for help, should I find His Highness Goron…?” Victor shivered at the thought. “I’d rather die!”

“Who says only a Gold Knight can train you? A Silver Knight can do it too!”

A look of suspicion crossed Victor’s face. “Even His Highness Roland couldn’t easily step on my foot. A Silver Knight can do that?”

“Roland was just playing with you. If she had been serious, you wouldn’t have lasted two breaths.” Sylvia rolled her eyes at Victor. “A Silver Knight is more than capable of training you. Once you can dodge them, I’ll take over your training.”

“Really?”

“Mhm!” Sylvia nodded, her smile like a blooming flower. “The York family has three Silver-rank female knights: Nicole’s Tutor, Trisley; the Countess Teldrane; and Viscount Fred’s wife. I can arrange a dance party for you all right now. How about it?”

Victor was about to agree, but when he saw the glint in Sylvia’s eyes, he instantly understood her intention and flatly refused, “No need!”

“Hmph!” Sylvia pouted. “Are the female knights of the York family in any way inferior to that little girl from the Chapman family?”

“You-you know about that?” Victor was stunned speechless.

“The Chapman family has already spread the word that you and Gillian are lovers!”

It was a done deal! None of these people were to be underestimated.

On one hand, Sylvia was publicizing that Victor had funded her purchase of a domain. On the other, Gillian was announcing their relationship as lovers. All Victor could do was lament inwardly and shake his head repeatedly.

“Choosing three is a bit much,” Sylvia said, not giving up. “Then how about just Trisley? She doesn’t have a partner yet. It would be a perfect match for you to become lovers.”

Victor replied stiffly, “There’s no emotional foundation. It’s not appropriate!”

“Feelings can be developed.” Sylvia didn’t want to see a good opportunity go to an outsider and tried to persuade him, “Our lives are short, and leaving a bloodline legacy for our family is our duty… Fine, if you’re not willing, so be it.” Seeing the displeasure on Victor’s face, Sylvia decided not to force him. “Be good to Nicole. If she doesn’t bear an heir, then don’t blame me for forcing you!”

“I will!”

Victor breathed a sigh of relief. He was quite fond of Nicole. As for the training, he could ask Gillian for help.

Sylvia released Victor’s arm, bent down to pluck a flower bud, and said, “Roland has her methods, and I have mine.”

“Look!” Sylvia held the bud between her fingers, raising it before Victor’s eyes.

Victor’s eyes widened, his voice trembling. “This! How did you do that? The void’s water element? Or—”

Sylvia’s hand was long and slender, as smooth and fair as jade, and three times more beautiful than the rose itself. But Victor stared fixedly at the bud in her hand, not even blinking. He watched as the layers of pink petals unfurled one by one. The plucked flower bud had quietly bloomed between Sylvia’s fingers, a sight as miraculous as a divine act.

“It’s not the void’s water element, nor am I a Wizard,” Sylvia said softly. “It’s vibration.”

“The fire element corresponds to spiritual power, and spiritual power commands the self. I vibrated the flower’s stem, and the continuous, subtle force shook the petals open, making it look as if it were blooming.”

“This is just a trick, with no practical combat value. However, it’s perfect for training your spiritual power and promoting the integration of the fire element. This time, there’s no need for an emotional foundation, is there?” Sylvia handed the rose to Victor.

“You’re a Flame Knight. Your spiritual power far exceeds that of an ordinary Pinnacle Knight. How could I possibly do that?!” Victor murmured to himself.

This rose had a total of forty-four petals. To vibrate them open without making them fall off, to simulate a natural bloom, the force of the vibration had to be not only continuous and exquisitely fine but also divided into forty-four different, changing streams. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, Victor would never have believed anyone was capable of such a feat.

“I wasn’t the first to do it,” Sylvia said calmly. “And the first person who did was not a Knight.”

“This is actually a method the First Sacred Warrior, Tournans, used to train his mental fortitude. He may be a human in a Savage state, but if he can do it, why can’t you?”

Victor’s brows furrowed tightly, and he remained silent. Sylvia sighed, “Marquess Golan believes that the strong strengthen themselves while the weak remain weak, and that it’s foolish to classify strength by rank. I couldn’t agree with him more. Tournans is far from being my opponent, but I acknowledge that his standing is equal to mine.”

“Victor, regardless of whether you have the Bloodline of a Sword Saint or not, if you can achieve this, then you will have the right to stand by my side!”

“And what if I can’t?” Victor asked.

Sylvia gave Victor a bewitching glance, her voice full of tenderness. “Then I will chase away all the women around you and make you stay here in Rose Manor with me, and only with me.”

“I’ll run far, far away!” Victor said through gritted teeth.

“Hehe.” Sylvia’s laughter was like flower branches shaking. Her long fingers hooked Victor’s chin, her breath as fragrant as an orchid. “Would you have the heart to?”

Her crystal-like red lips were inches away, her azure eyes brimming with a seductive charm. The breathtaking allure of the Spirit Knight made Victor’s heart pound. He suppressed the desire rising within him and said resolutely, “I promise I can do it!”

A flash of surprise and admiration appeared in Sylvia’s eyes. She nodded. “Now that’s my man.”

“My dear, we should talk business.”

Chapter 259: Persuasion

“You really plan to plant Spiked Kidney Beans?”

Victor had arrived at Rose Manor yesterday afternoon. He told Sylvia about his recent experiences, including his plan to introduce Spiked Kidney Beans. However, the two lovers, reunited after a short separation, had other priorities, and their tender moments left no time to discuss the strategic adjustments for the Centaur Hills in detail. It was only now that Sylvia began to ask about the Spiked Kidney Beans.

“The Centaur Hills are short on food, and the Spiked Kidney Bean is a high-yield crop that produces three thousand pounds per mu. Why are you so against it?” Victor asked, puzzled.

“Are you asking a question you already know the answer to?” Sylvia shot him a glare and said irritably, “Spiked Kidney Beans take up precious farmland, and the crop you grow can only be distributed to refugees for free. Who is the master of this fief? Us? Or the refugees?”

“Of course, it’s us!” Victor nodded. “By custom, all resources in a fief belong to the lord, and Spiked Kidney Beans are no exception. The beans I plant are my property. Even if they don’t store well, can’t I sell them to the refugees at a low price?”

“That’s right. By custom, a lord must donate any food that is about to spoil to the Church, so that it doesn’t go to waste. The freemen in the south-central part of the kingdom are already used to having free Spiked Kidney Beans. No matter how low you set the price, they won’t pay for it. They’ll just wait for the Church to provide relief aid.” Sylvia sighed, resigned. “That’s just the reality of it. Planting Spiked Kidney Beans takes up farmland and pastures, and it’s our interests as lords that are harmed.”

Sylvia’s attitude toward the Spiked Kidney Bean was as if from the same mold as other lords, which reminded Victor of the “sheep devouring men” movement from his middle school history textbooks.

In fifteenth to seventeenth-century Europe, with the discovery of the New World, the opening of new sea routes, and the success of global shipping, England’s foreign trade grew year by year, further stimulating the development of the wool industry. The price of wool shot up by three hundred percent, and sheep farming became a highly profitable business. Ten acres of pasture often generated more income than twenty acres of farmland. The feudal nobles of England began to enclose land, converting arable fields into pastures. This resulted in mass unemployment for tenant farmers, who lost their land and were forced to either move far away or wander aimlessly, falling into extremely miserable circumstances.

However, the enclosure movement was an inevitable historical trend. The feudal lords, in their pursuit of profits from the wool trade, abolished the inefficient open-field system, enclosed land for sheep, and opened numerous factories in the cities. The displaced farmers flocked to the cities and became workers, while the feudal nobles completed their primitive accumulation of capital and transformed into capitalists. Ultimately, this created the empire on which the sun never sets, which dominated the globe.

The human world Victor was in was technologically backward, with insufficient food and poor trade, a hundred and eight thousand li away from mass industrialization. Although the current productive forces of this alternate world were not yet sufficient to drive a change in the relations of production, the profit-chasing nature of the lordly class was exactly the same.

As things stood, the refugees had no sense of belonging to the fiefs or the kingdom. And in the eyes of the lords, while refugees were indispensable, they were not their own subjects. Planting Spiked Kidney Beans was to feed outsiders at their own expense. Not only would the lords be unwilling, but their own registered subjects would also be strongly opposed.

However, Victor did not have time to slowly cultivate vassals and subjects. Based on the objective conditions, he had abandoned the pure vassalage system in favor of a system that combined land leasing and labor hiring, aimed at Partisans, Aides, and Supporters. In this Leasehold Employment System, refugees could also be converted into Supporters, and planting the high-yield Spiked Kidney Bean was a vital part of this strategy.

“My dear, planting Spiked Kidney Beans might not directly earn a profit for the family, but its hidden value is immeasurable!”

“Mm, I’m listening.”

Sylvia looked at her lover with great anticipation; Victor always managed to surprise her.

Victor thought for a moment and said, “I call agriculture, forestry, fishing, animal husbandry, and gathering the ‘primary industry.’ Mining, handicrafts, construction, and manufacturing I call the ‘secondary industry.’ The primary industry lays the foundation for the secondary industry. In other words, we must first develop the primary industry to be able to develop the secondary industry, thereby creating even more value. Spiked Kidney Beans may not be worth much, but they can drive the development of the secondary industry.”

“Wait!” Sylvia blinked her charming eyes, dissatisfied. “I don’t understand! Can you put it more simply?”

“Uh… alright.” Victor tried to speak more plainly. “For example, my fief has one hundred fifty thousand people. Because the fief’s grain production is low, we need one hundred forty thousand people engaged in farming, gathering, herding, and fishing. Now, if I plant high-yield Spiked Kidney Beans, I only need seventy thousand people in food production to feed all one hundred fifty thousand. Then the remaining eighty thousand people can work in mining, smelting, weaving, carpentry, and repairing roads and castles. They can also make armaments and receive military training, increasing the combat effectiveness of the army.”

“It’s true that planting Spiked Kidney Beans will reduce the number of cattle and sheep and the yield of wheat, but I can make up for the loss by selling wood products, green bricks, textiles, and ironware to outsiders. Since I have a large number of craftsmen, I can purchase raw materials like hides, minerals, and timber, process them into goods, and then sell them. It’s like I’m using the resources of other fiefs to create wealth. Isn’t that more cost-effective than waging war to expand my territory?”

“On the other hand, the Spiked Kidney Beans are provided free of charge to the freemen laborers. After these freemen save up some money, they’ll need to buy daily necessities, won’t they? I sell them these goods, and doesn’t their money come right back into my hands? As long as I slightly raise the price of daily goods, the seemingly free Spiked Kidney Beans will also bring me a profit.”

Victor smiled. “In reality, not only have I not harmed the family’s interests by planting Spiked Kidney Beans, but I’ve also trained a large number of artisans, built numerous towns, roads, and castles, forged excellent armaments, and equipped more troops. This is the primary industry driving the secondary industry.”

These modern principles of political economy, which were common knowledge to Victor, were entirely new to Sylvia. This was hardly surprising. The core strategy of the Church and the knightly Nobles had always been singular: defeat the beastmen and reclaim the fertile Northern Wildlands.

In the struggle for living space, the Church spared no effort to promote the guiding principle of “limited internal conflict, united against the outside.” For thousands of years, this ideology had permeated every level of human society. Even when the Dodor people were being beaten black and blue by the Sasan Empire, they dared not sever the trade routes to Sasan.

Under the pressure of the beastmen, the knightly Nobles spent their days polishing their Aura, propagating their bloodlines, training elite soldiers, and promoting a martial spirit. Scholar nobles immersed themselves in the study of architecture, monsterology, and forging. The common people were all skilled builders, able to construct a castle in a matter of months. Therefore, in this world of low productivity, humans could build magnificent fortresses and manufacture military heavy crossbows with a range of four hundred meters. All sorts of alloy equipment emerged endlessly, while philosophy, sociology, political economy, and the crucial science of agropastoralism stagnated, showing almost no development.

Archbishop Lazarus had once told Victor that as long as they conquered the Northern Wildlands, any new agropastoral system would be worthless! Duke Wellington, a master scholar, had touched the edge of the concept of social division of labor, only to hastily retreat, wishing he could eradicate every last Spiked Kidney Bean in his fief. This showed just how profoundly the “military first” ideology influenced human society. Of course, this was also because the human kingdoms were in real danger of being overrun by beastmen, and humanity had no room for compromise.

Sylvia was a shining star among the human elite, but she was also constrained by her noble education. How could she understand the theory of the division of labor? She was almost taken in by Victor’s argument. However, Sylvia possessed a wisdom that was beyond ordinary people, and she soon discovered the fallacy in his reasoning.

“Everything you’ve said is what Duke Wellington is doing. But the Wellington family is trying everything they can to get rid of the Spiked Kidney Beans. They’ve only held back because of pressure from the Church.” Sylvia eyed Victor suspiciously and asked, “Duke Wellington has been hoping someone would take the Spiked Kidney Beans off his hands. You haven’t been duped by him, have you?”

Victor nodded. “When I passed through the Wellington duchy, I saw that the roads there were flat and wide, the fortresses were majestic and spectacular, and there were numerous craftsmen. Their agriculture, animal husbandry, and handicraft manufacturing were very developed. The city of Vistock was no less prosperous than the Royal Capital, Blinor City.” Facing Sylvia, Victor said, “With Spiked Kidney Beans, we will have abundant manpower to build fortresses and water conservancy projects. Aren’t these things the Centaur Hills desperately need? Wasn’t attracting a larger population a strategy we already decided on?”

Sylvia stated flatly, “We need population, but we don’t need Spiked Kidney Beans!”

“The facts have proven that planting Spiked Kidney Beans was a miscalculation by the Wellington family.”

“The free food attracted a massive influx of refugees to the south-central region to make a living. They’ve latched onto the Wellington duchy, only coming in and never leaving. They’ve reproduced for generations, their population growing ever larger. The Wellington family has been forced to expand the planting area for Spiked Kidney Beans, reducing their pastures and farmland. Otherwise, they would have to import grain.”

“The Wellington family does have many craftsmen. They process their own timber, ore, and leather into goods, consuming the fief’s resources, while the profits are taken by the caravans. As for buying raw materials to process into goods… hehe, the other families aren’t fools. The price of raw materials is set very high, leaving the Wellington family with almost no profit to speak of.”

“The Wellington family is supporting refugees for the Church, shouldering the population pressure for the royal family, producing goods for the merchant associations, and earning mining and logging profits for other lords. The Spiked Kidney Beans have made them a laughingstock among the Nobles. I have no desire to repeat their mistakes.” Sylvia said seriously, “My dear, I don’t want to force you. But you must understand that we are one. If refugees flood into the Randell Fief, I can’t just sit by and watch! In fact, even with the water projects, our farmland is very precious. This is a hilly region, after all, not the plains of the south-central lands!”

“Therefore, I will not allow you to plant Spiked Kidney Beans!”

“That’s why I haven’t acted without consulting you.”

No matter what, Victor was a lord of the Centaur Hills line. If he really cast Sylvia aside and acted like an independent lord, he would have to be out of his mind. Before promoting the Spiked Kidney Bean, Victor had to first persuade his backer.

“My dear, I’ve already told you the benefits of planting Spiked Kidney Beans. As for its drawbacks… haven’t you noticed that the Spiked Kidney Bean is perfectly suited to the situation in the Centaur Hills?”

Something clicked in Sylvia’s mind. “The wild boars?” she said.

Victor smiled. “Yes. Spiked Kidney Beans can’t be fed to cattle and sheep, but they can be fed to pigs. They can also be eaten by the commoners.”

“Ground-potato leaves can also be used to raise pigs. There’s no need to waste farmland,” Sylvia said, slowly shaking her head.

“Who said anything about using farmland?” Victor explained with a smile, “The Spiked Kidney Bean is a shrub. It can be planted on the hills!”

Sylvia’s mind raced. She said with a pout, “You’ve definitely thought this all through. Stop keeping me in suspense.”

Feeling the pinch of her delicate fingers on the soft flesh of his waist, Victor obediently confessed everything. “I plan to build terraced fields on the hills to plant Spiked Kidney Beans. Due to irrigation issues, the yield will certainly be lower, but it won’t occupy any farmland. Besides, I’ve already reached an agreement with Baron Schultz to trade charcoal for green bricks. Even if we clear the shrubs on the hills, we won’t have to worry about a lack of fuel.”

“As for the problem of Spiked Kidney Beans causing an influx of refugees, that’s not because the beans are free, but because the Church is in charge of the relief aid.”

“That is true,” Sylvia nodded in agreement.

In fact, if the Church hadn’t used the donated Spiked Kidney Beans to provide relief to refugees and harvest their faith, the Wellington family could have at least charged the refugee laborers a small fee. On Earth, didn’t farm owners prefer to dump milk, drown millions of live pigs, and burn over fifty thousand mu of cotton rather than help the poor, all to stabilize prices and avoid bankruptcy?

“So, as long as I bypass the Church, I can solve this problem!”

Victor grasped the soft hand at his waist and said righteously, “I’m going to plant the Spiked Kidney Beans, and I’m going to provide them to the refugee laborers for free, as a wild resource!”

A brilliant light shone in Sylvia’s azure eyes. She sighed, “Victor, you truly are a genius!”

The Spiked Kidney Beans would be planted on the hills, designated as a wild resource belonging to the lord. However, Victor would declare that this wild crop was available for the populace to eat for free. This meant it wouldn’t need to be harvested and stored, and thus couldn’t be donated to the Church. Since the beans were already being provided to the people for free, the Church would have nothing to say. However, the freemen laborers in each village would staunchly resist any refugees trying to gather the Spiked Kidney Beans on the hills—that was their stuff! The Church could soft-soap and pester a lord, but what could they do about the spontaneous self-preservation actions of the freemen laborers?

On the surface, Victor was giving the Spiked Kidney Beans to the freemen laborers. In reality, the freemen laborers were controlled by the village heads, and the village heads took their orders from the lord. Whether the Spiked Kidney Beans were used to feed pigs or people was Victor’s decision.

The Church would be unable to organize large-scale relief aid, and refugees would not flood into the Randell Fief en masse. The flow of population would remain under Victor’s control. With this, the drawbacks of the Spiked Kidney Bean were completely resolved, and its benefits were brought to the forefront.

“Hehe, Duke Wellington really lost out to you on this one.”

Sylvia was smiling happily. Victor said, “My dear, you agree?”

“Of course!” Sylvia gave him a fragrant kiss and said, “Go all out. I support you!”

“Then what about the other lords?”

“Hmm, let’s see the results first!”

Victor shook his head and chuckled. he knew Sylvia wouldn’t promote the Spiked Kidney Bean in the other fiefs. The Randell Fief had always been the York family’s testing ground. Successful experiences would be adopted; failed experiments were Victor’s problem. This also reflected their disagreement on the matter of grand army strategy.

Victor was planting Spiked Kidney Beans to recruit soldiers from among the freemen and form a large professional army. The York family did not approve of this plan. They believed that the traditional defensive tactics, built upon fortresses, Knights, elite soldiers, and militia, were sufficient to repel the Ant-man invasion. Freemen could serve as laborers, but they couldn’t be relied upon to defend the fief.

Changing mindsets was not something that could be done overnight, and Victor himself wasn’t certain if the grand army strategy was truly suitable for this world.

“Alright. I’ll start with a trial planting in the Randell Fief,” Victor said with a shrug.

“We need to plant the Spiked Kidney Beans as soon as possible.” Sylvia’s attitude had done a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn. She said, “Next year, I need to mobilize twenty thousand able-bodied men to build the southern fortress. Adding Phoenix’s ten thousand, that’s a total of over thirty thousand men. My logistical pressure will be immense. I hope you can help me cover the supplies for twenty thousand of them.”

“I understand,” Victor nodded. “I’ll sell you the Spiked Kidney Beans at a low price.”

“What happened to free?!” Sylvia demanded angrily.

“I gave you one hundred fifty thousand Gold Sol! I gave you the Purple Cane wine too, and the result is I have to pay a twenty thousand annual tribute! Shouldn’t you help me share a bit of the fine?” Victor complained repeatedly.

“I didn’t take your Purple Cane wine for nothing. The green wheat I supply you covers fifty percent of the Randell Fief’s grain consumption!” Sylvia didn’t give an inch.

“It’s thirty percent now. The population of Randell Fief has already reached twelve thousand. Besides, the value of the Purple Cane wine is far greater than the green wheat.” Victor haggled over every penny.

“The profits from the Purple Cane wine were taken by Sophia. She’s using my wine to wield great power in Naville and has even established connections with the barbarian tribes. Let me ask you, whose wife is Sophia? Who should you be asking for your fine money?” Sylvia began to twist logic.

“What does Sophia have to do with me anymore? She’s run off to the Kingdom of Borea to see her lover. You think I can get money from her?” Victor said indignantly.

Sylvia crossed her arms and said mockingly, “Heh, the one hundred fifty thousand Gold Sol you gave me, didn’t that come from Sophia? You think you could have one hundred fifty thousand Gold Sol on your own?”

Victor was speechless, utterly dumbfounded. He finally understood. Sylvia might be a Spirit Knight, but she was also a woman, and you could never expect a woman to be reasonable.

“Well, Sophia’s trip to the Kingdom of Borea has a hidden reason, supposedly related to the barbarians, but there’s no definite news…”

Seeing Victor’s glum expression, Sylvia thought he was still hung up on his old flame and wanted to comfort him, but since Sophia was definitely going to see Andre, she ultimately had nothing to say.

Victor threw his hands up, completely baffled. “This has nothing to do with me!” he said innocently.

Chapter 260: New Unit: Alchemical Dragon-Lizard

Victor’s convoy sped along the roads of the Randell Fief. Through the carriage window, he saw that the lush green hills were now tinged with a hint of gold.

Unconsciously, the Season of Wind had quietly arrived.

Laketon and the York family’s Black Fortress Town were separated by over four hundred kilometers. The fastest a convoy could make the round trip was thirty days. Victor had set out in the fourth month of the Season of Fire and returned in the first month of the Season of Wind, a journey of thirty-five days in total. He and Sylvia had only spent a day and two nights together before he had to hurry back to his fief.

A mountain of affairs awaited Victor in the Randell Fief.

Sylvia did not try to keep him. The Randell Fief had become the gateway connecting the two great lordly powers of the south-central and southern regions through the Centaur Hills; it was a crucial part of the York family’s development strategy. Sylvia knew that Victor had been traveling for months and that the House of Randell was short on stewards. With the fief’s affairs piled high, she would have been more worried if he didn’t go back to oversee things.

It wasn’t that the York family didn’t want to place a steward in the Randell Fief to help Victor with administrative matters; they simply couldn’t spare anyone.

During the quelling of the Ant-man plague, the York family’s vassal class had suffered heavy losses, with over two thousand vassal soldiers killed or wounded. Now, the total population of the Centaur Hills had surpassed one hundred fifty thousand. The York family was simultaneously organizing fifty thousand able-bodied laborers to construct two strongholds while also managing the reconstruction of their domain. Fortunately, the York family had deep foundations, with over sixty thousand registered citizens and a mature education system. They had swiftly recalled family scions studying at the Spire and promoted many young attendants, handmaidens, and vassals’ second sons to positions as stewards, which was how they managed to keep the fief’s affairs in order. Even so, the York family was still stretched thin; even Sylvia herself had begun to personally handle administrative tasks.

In this environment of massive production and construction, everyone was busy, from the lord down to the commoner.

In a single day, Victor and Sylvia had settled many matters.

The York family would double the exchange rate of green wheat and iron for Purple Cane wine, for a period of three years. In return, Victor was to plant Spiked Kidney Beans and share the burden of supplying fifteen thousand laborers until the southern stronghold was completed.

Furthermore, the York family had acquired Baron Eskri’s fief. They planned to build a small town there to directly participate in Wildwillow City’s trade and the recruitment of refugees.

This was only to be expected, and Victor had no objections. He and Sylvia might be close, but when it came to family interests, she couldn’t just watch the Randell Fief monopolize all the benefits, especially since it was the York family that had secured the Briatte family’s neutrality.

Sylvia also told Victor that in two months, she, along with Bishop Pello and a Spire Scholar, would travel to Baroness Fynikos’s fief to preside over the opening ceremony for the first reservoir’s channels. Sylvia urged Victor to treat this matter with importance.

Victor was surprised at first, but then it made sense. The Church’s clergy had been involved in the reservoir’s construction from start to finish. Rather than trying to hide it, it was better to announce it to the world with great fanfare. Most importantly, Pinnacle Knights valued their reputation immensely. King Naville had to publicize his slaying of a single Ogre Warlord throughout the knightly circles, so how could Sylvia restrain herself when this water conservancy project was an unprecedented feat in human history?

If Pinnacle Knights were indifferent to fame and fortune, devoid of desire, they would have long been assimilated by the Elemental Sea. Becoming subjects of epic songs was a common aspiration for them. Besides, reputation helped to enhance a family’s cohesion and influence, which had practical benefits. Thus, it had become fashionable for Nobles to pay great attention to their renown.

Victor didn’t particularly care for fame himself, but since it was the way of the nobility, he didn’t want to appear too different.

Social interactions and promoting one’s name were ultimately minor affairs. Victor had many more important things to do, but right now, he urgently needed to make a trip to the mountain stronghold.

It had been forty days since the Alchemy Tower was repaired. According to the settings Victor had established before he left, the two Alchemical Dragon-Lizards produced by the King should be at the mountain stronghold. He couldn’t wait to see his new alchemical units.

The bells on the carriage wall chimed melodiously as the carriage came to a halt. Victor stepped out and instructed his Captain of the Personal Guard, “Gru, go back and tell My Lady Lilia that I’ll return to Laketon tomorrow. Reno, Shak, take a squad of guards and come with me. Gru, you and the others head back first.”

“As you command, my lord.”

The forty-man personal guard split in two. After Gru’s carriage disappeared from view, Victor turned his warhorse and galloped west, a squad of Alchemical militia following closely behind him.

By dusk, Victor arrived at the mountain stronghold. The first thing he said upon seeing Busuo was, “Where are my Alchemical Dragon-Lizards?”

“My lord, they are at the smithy. Please follow me.”

Rounding the mountain pass, Victor immediately spotted two colossal creatures.

They were two blue-black monsters, standing 2.1 meters tall at the shoulder and 4 meters long, or 5.5 meters including their tails. When they noticed Victor, their nostrils flared and they made “huff, huff” sounds, appearing extremely happy, yet they remained in place, unlike the Alchemical Warhounds which would have pounced on him.

Victor walked closer, and the giant beasts immediately lay down, gently nudging their heads toward him. A sense of deep familiarity from the core of his being told Victor that these two beasts were his Alchemical Dragon-Lizards.

Alchemical Dragon-Lizard: Physique 25, Spirit 12, Perception 20, Life 5, Lifespan 20 years, production cost 50,000 Gold Sol. The Alchemical Dragon-Lizard came with four innate skills: Omnivore, Unimpeded Movement, Elemental Resistance, and Extraordinary Regeneration. Among all alchemical creatures, it had the highest stats, the longest lifespan, and the highest production cost.

Victor had originally thought the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard would look like a large lizard. Now he saw that its form was completely different from a lizard’s, resembling instead a Gorgonopsid from Earth.

The Alchemical Dragon-Lizard’s head was shaped like a velociraptor’s, with a skull sixty centimeters long and a wide mouth full of sharp teeth. Its large nostrils could close, an obvious adaptation for various environments, and its sense of smell was keen. Its four limbs were thick and powerful, extending from beneath its abdomen, unlike a lizard’s, which sprawled from the sides of its body. This body structure gave the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard astonishing running speed and exceptional jumping ability, far beyond what a mere crawling lizard could ever match. What surprised Victor the most was that the creatures’ joints were incredibly flexible; they could stretch their limbs and lie flat on the ground like a human. If they lay like that on the water’s surface, they would look like a small boat, with their 1.5-meter-long tails acting as oars. The Alchemical Dragon-Lizard’s claws were strong and powerful, curved like hooks, serving as both potent weapons and tools for digging pits or climbing cliffs. The skin between their toes was semi-webbed, meaning they were not only skilled swimmers but could also traverse desert and swamp terrain with ease. Their entire bodies were covered in blue-black, horny scale armor that felt as tough and thick as plate mail to the touch. This tough hide, coupled with the two talents of Extraordinary Regeneration and Elemental Resistance, made the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard’s defense and recovery abilities incredibly formidable.

Victor asked, “Busuo, how do you normally use the Alchemical Dragon-Lizards?”

Busuo had died once, but Victor personally tutored him every time he came to the mountain stronghold. Now, Busuo’s intelligence had improved significantly, and he could answer his master’s questions fluently. “My lord, the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard can adapt to all environments and can remain active underwater for twelve hours. Its intelligence, sight, smell, and hearing all surpass the Alchemical Warhound’s. It can identify eight types of underground minerals and rare medicinal herbs. It possesses powerful digging abilities, allowing it to find and excavate underground mineral veins and medicinal resources, and it can even gather underwater minerals.”

“The Alchemical Dragon-Lizard’s strength is immense, and its stamina and load-bearing capacity are outstanding. It has a top speed of one hundred kilometers per hour and can run continuously for one hour. It can carry a load of six thousand pounds with unimpeded movement, capable of walking continuously for seventy-two hours at a speed of twenty-seven kilometers per hour, or running for five hours at sixty-five kilometers per hour.”

“Typically, ten alchemical crows, two warhounds, and one Alchemical Dragon-Lizard carrying three Alchemical militia form a work team. They conduct ten-day collection operations within a radius of eight hundred kilometers. Once they have collected over two thousand pounds of resources, the work team can return.”

“If we discover a large, rare mineral vein, we usually build a temporary camp nearby for concentrated mining, smelting, and processing. The Alchemical Dragon-Lizard undertakes the heaviest transport tasks.”

An image immediately formed in Victor’s mind: alchemical crows scouting from the sky, warhounds fanned out to the sides on guard duty, and three Alchemical militia riding a Dragon-Lizard, searching for precious resources within an eight-hundred-kilometer radius. Once the Dragon-Lizard sniffed out resources buried underground, it would start digging, and the militia would be responsible for collection and processing. The efficiency of this combination was far greater than that of a single militiaman working alone. However, Victor was more concerned about another question.

“How is the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard’s combat capability?”

“My lord, the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard is a collection and transport unit.”

“Uh… I know.”

Busuo was falling back into his old habit. Victor had no choice but to rephrase, “How does the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard’s combat capability compare to that of a regular dragon-lizard?”

“My lord, the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard is based on the biological template of a dragon-lizard. It combines the advantages of both the Marsh Dragon-Lizard and the mountain dragon-lizard. Its Physique, Perception, intelligence, strength, explosive power, endurance, and adaptability are far superior to a regular dragon-lizard’s. The Alchemical Dragon-Lizard has enhanced Extraordinary Regeneration and Elemental Resistance talents. Its skull and cervical spine are extremely tough, and it has one primary and two auxiliary hearts, making it almost impossible for a beast of the same size to kill it with a single blow. However, it lacks the keen intuition of a regular dragon-lizard and the Bloodlust talent of a Marsh Dragon-Lizard, but its intelligence is high, equivalent to an eight-year-old human child. In a wild encounter, no species of dragon-lizard would be a match for an Alchemical Dragon-Lizard.”

“What if it encounters an Ogre chief?”

“Ogres rarely travel alone. The Alchemical Dragon-Lizard would choose to flee. Carrying a load of three thousand pounds, even an Ogre chief couldn’t catch it.”

“And if it can’t escape? One on one, who would win?”

“The outcome cannot be determined. Their Physique attributes are similar, and the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard’s Perception is higher than an Ogre’s. However, an Ogre with the berserk talent is capable of cutting off the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard’s head, and the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard is also capable of killing its opponent.”

“I understand.”

Victor nodded and muttered to himself, “I’ll have to test its abilities to be sure.”

The Alchemical militia fitted a specially made harness onto the Dragon-Lizard. The harness had two levels: the upper level had four seats for riders, while the lower level consisted of storage compartments on either side of the Dragon-Lizard. If necessary, the number of seats on the upper level could be increased to six, or it could be removed entirely to allow the Dragon-Lizard to carry more cargo.

Victor and two Alchemical militia mounted the harness. With a long hiss, the Dragon-Lizard rose to its feet and began to run toward the farthest Thorium ore pit.

The wind howled past his ears, and the scenery on both sides flew backward. The Alchemical Dragon-Lizard leaped and bounded across the hills, its eight giant claws crushing the low, dense bushes to pieces. Victor noticed that the Dragon-Lizard always chose a relatively gentle path forward. The thorny shrubs were not tall enough to reach its back, so they didn’t pose much of a problem for the riders, and although the ride was a bit bumpy, it was entirely manageable for a soldier skilled in martial arts.

Forty-nine minutes later, Victor arrived at the Thorium ore pit.

The straight-line distance between the Thorium ore pit and the mountain stronghold was thirty-four kilometers, but the hills here were endless, rolling and overlapping, covered in dense shrubbery. The terrain was complex, and even the Alchemical militia often chose to wind their way through the mountain passes. By that calculation, the journey from the Hill Camp to the pit was over seventy kilometers.

Such a long journey was more than an ordinary person could walk in a day. Even an elite soldier on a forced march, disregarding stamina, would take over five hours. An Alchemical militiaman would need at least an hour and twenty minutes.

The two Alchemical Dragon-Lizards, carrying four people and ignoring the terrain restrictions, had shortened the journey to forty-two kilometers and completed it in forty-nine minutes, for an average speed of fifty-one kilometers per hour, and they hadn’t even pushed themselves to the limit!

“Let’s begin the next test. A full load of ore. Let’s see how long it takes them to get back to the smithy.”

Victor, Busuo, and the others dismounted. Reno quickly called over the Alchemical militia from the pit to load cargo onto the Dragon-Lizard.

Before long, the Alchemical militia had filled the harness with heavy Thorium ore, securing it properly. The Dragon-Lizard stood up, carrying a mountain-like load on its back. Victor asked, his heart pounding, “How much does this weigh? Will it crush my Alchemical Dragon-Lizard?”

“About six thousand eight hundred pounds,” Busuo replied. “My lord, rest assured. This is only the harness’s maximum load. The Alchemical Dragon-Lizard’s maximum transport weight on flat ground is ten thousand pounds, and in hilly terrain, it’s eight thousand eight hundred pounds.”

“Is that so?” Victor breathed a sigh of relief. He then asked, “What is the transport load for a Crouching Ox Militiaman? How long does it take them to reach the smithy? How many trips can they make a day?”

“A single-wheeled handcart has a maximum load of one thousand one hundred pounds. A Crouching Ox Militiaman pushing the cart takes three and a half hours for a round trip of seventy-two kilometers. They can make four trips a day, transporting four thousand four hundred pounds of ore,” Busuo answered.

Victor nodded, leaped onto the other Dragon-Lizard, and ordered, “Let’s begin.”

The fully loaded Dragon-Lizard set off without any effort. Since there were no passengers on its back, it chose a more direct route. By the time Victor returned to the smithy, it had just arrived as well. The time was sixty-one minutes.

Victor patted the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard’s head and asked with satisfaction, “One trip per hour. How many trips can this fellow make in a day?”

“The most reasonable plan is for the Dragon-Lizard to eat its fill every two days and enter a deep sleep for three hours. This allows it to work uninterrupted for forty hours. Within two days, it can make at least twenty round trips,” Busuo replied.

“Haha. Good! One hundred thousand Gold Sol well spent!” Victor laughed heartily.

The production cost of an Alchemical Dragon-Lizard was fifty thousand Gold Sol, making it the most valuable alchemical unit from Alchemy Tower No. 7. To produce two of them, Victor had given the King another ten thousand Gold Sol, and now the Alchemy Tower was out of money.

If secrecy wasn’t a concern, fifty thousand Gold Sol could be used to hire several thousand people, build a road connecting the mineral vein to the mountain stronghold, and form a mining and transport team of over a thousand. The transport efficiency would be far greater than that of two Dragon-Lizards.

However, logistics and supplies in this other world were always difficult. To sustain the lives of a thousand miners in the mountains, another two thousand people would be needed for supply work. In at most ten years, one hundred thousand Gold Sol would be completely spent, and the cost of mining would multiply several times over.

No matter how much an Alchemical Dragon-Lizard ate, it couldn’t compare to three thousand mouths. Moreover, they possessed the Omnivore talent—tree leaves, grass roots, bush berries, carrion—they ate whatever they could find, and their food utilization efficiency was astonishingly high. There was no need to worry about their supplies at all. With a lifespan of twenty years, the savings on supply costs alone would exceed fifty thousand Gold Sol.

And that was just a static view. From a dynamic perspective, a single transport run by a Dragon-Lizard carried more than a Crouching Ox Militiaman could in a whole day. Putting two Alchemical Dragon-Lizards on transport duty could free up fifty-three Crouching Ox Militiamen. These hands could then be used for mining, herb gathering, leatherworking, arms manufacturing, or producing rock bricks. How much wealth could they create?

The mountain range on the west side of the Centaur Hills stretched for over a thousand kilometers. Victor controlled a six-hundred-kilometer section of these mountains. The already discovered mineral veins included two of Thorium, four of refined iron, and one of copper. Other plant and animal resources were innumerable. For example, the hemostatic potions made by the Alchemical militia could sell for two Silver Sol each through existing trade channels. If smuggled, they could fetch at least eight Silver Sol per portion. As for top-tier fuel like Oilwood, the main material for greatbows, Purple Cloud Spruce, the raw material for coffee, the Dark Astringent Fruit Tree, and various animal hides and sinews—there were so many that their total value was impossible to calculate.

Limited by supply and transport issues, lords often found mountain resources to be a tasteless morsel, a pity to discard but not worth the effort to consume. They generally adopted a hands-off policy; after all, the mountains weren’t going anywhere, so they could be left for future generations to develop. But Alchemy Tower No. 7 specialized in gathering wild resources. Victor couldn’t just sit by and watch countless riches rot in the mountains; that was what the Alchemical humans were for. Yet, Victor was only actually mining one refined iron and one Thorium deposit, concentrated within a mere eighty-five-kilometer range.

Victor had one hundred eighty-three auxiliary soldiers and nine hundred ninety-five militia under his command, for a total of one thousand one hundred seventy-eight Alchemical humans. Of these, sixty auxiliary soldiers and two hundred ten militia were in the Randell Fief, ten auxiliary soldiers and eighty militia were in Raven Town in the north, and the remaining eight hundred eighteen were at the mountain stronghold. Among those at the stronghold, two hundred eighty-five were engaged in transport, and two hundred twenty-six were responsible for gathering food. The total number in logistics was five hundred eleven, while the total production force was only three hundred seven. Due to the lack of manpower in production, the making of rock bricks had come to a standstill, to say nothing of gathering resources from other areas.

With the introduction of the Alchemical Dragon-Lizards, Victor could free up fifty-three Crouching Ox Militiamen, as well as the eighteen Lithe Ape militiamen who provided their food. This workforce could either strengthen his control over the northern mountains or form more freemen mercenary companies. Victor’s situation was immediately revitalized!

On the other hand, while the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard was a non-combat transport unit of the Alchemical Empire, Victor would not overlook its fighting capabilities. He had always treated his alchemical creatures as military assets.

The Alchemical Dragon-Lizard was tough and thick-skinned, with a Physique of 25, Perception of 20, a body length of four meters, and a height of 2.1 meters—a textbook large dire animal. Its strength far surpassed that of a Silver Knight. The Dragon-Lizard possessed Elemental Resistance and Extraordinary Regeneration. Fit it with heavy armor, and it would instantly transform into an excellent tank and frontline melee powerhouse. An Ogre chief truly might not be its match.

Moreover, the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard had all-terrain capabilities. It was fast, had great endurance, and minimal supply needs. It could carry six fully armed Alchemical militia and over a thousand pounds of supplies, allowing it to execute a raid over a thousand kilometers within twenty-four hours. It possessed extremely strong surprise attack and support capabilities.

Thousand-kilometer raids, rapid support, ready to fight on arrival, and certain to win—this was the value of the Swift Dragon Knights.

King Gambis once said, “Where the Swift Dragon Knights go, that is my territory.” The strategic value of the Alchemical Dragon-Lizards was no less than that of the Swift Dragon Knights.

Of course, Victor didn’t have the power to openly deploy the Alchemical Dragon-Lizards yet, but their appearance filled the gap in his lack of high-end military power, making his tactics more diverse and flexible. Now, the northern mountains of Raven Town and the Lizard Marsh were both conquerable targets.

“Take good care of them. Don’t let them die. These things are too expensive!”

Victor repeatedly reminded Busuo. The Alchemy Tower was out of money, and his own pockets were about to be empty too.

Busuo nodded and then asked, “My lord, while on a reconnaissance mission, Jack captured a wizard and his daughter. Do you wish to interrogate them?”

“It’s getting dark. I’ll see them tomorrow.” Victor glanced up at the dimming sky and said, “Busuo, first give me a report on the mountain stronghold’s achievements during this period.”

Chapter 261: A String of Surprises

The House of Randell continuously shipped high-quality timber, cowhide, horns, beast sinew, fish glue, and iron to the Hill Camp, while finished military equipment flowed out in a steady stream, distributed into the hands of the soldiers. Everyone believed the Hill Camp was the lord’s military workshop. In truth, the mountain stronghold was Victor’s largest armaments production base.

When the night was deep and quiet, the Villagers would take refuge in the safety of their towns, while the Alchemical militia, under the cover of darkness, would secretly transport supplies to the mountains and bring the finished armaments back to the Hill Camp. The Randell Fief had a limited number of Guards, after all. Even with all the Alchemical humans, the stronghold produced a large surplus of weapons and equipment.

For three years, the mountain stronghold had stockpiled a massive amount of military supplies. Four cellars stored hundreds of barrels of Purple Cane wine, while the twelve rooms on the ground floor served as armories, neatly stacked with all sorts of weapons and armor.

“My lord, we’ve used the sinews of Ant-man chiefs to craft 240 Thorium heavy crossbows, equipped with 6,000 refined steel crossbow bolts, 7,000 refined iron crossbow bolts, 200 Adamantine crossbow bolts, 150 Thorium-Adamantine crossbow bolts, and for your personal use, 3 twin-silver heavy crossbows and 50 Adamantine twin-silver crossbow bolts.”

“Ninety Thorium crossbows, 300 regular crossbows, equipped with 40,000 refined iron crossbow bolts. Twenty Thorium greatbows, 80 yew greatbows, equipped with 10,000 refined iron arrows. Five hundred composite longbows, with 60,000 refined iron arrows. Additionally, there are 2 twin-silver composite bows and 100 Adamantine twin-silver arrows for your personal use.”

“Eighty sets of Thorium Ant-man armor. As per your request, we have set aside the remaining Ant-man carapaces, which are enough to forge sixteen suits of dual-silver full plate armor.”

“Two thousand one hundred suits of refined iron full chainmail, 105 suits of refined steel half-body ring mail. Each suit of mail comes with a set of hardened rattan-and-hide armor, a refined iron helmet, refined steel gauntlets, and hard leather boots, as well as an Iron-oak round shield, a refined iron longsword, and a refined iron one-handed spear.”

Over a hundred Greensage candles brightly illuminated the storeroom. The pale green of Thorium, the deep blue of refined iron, and the silvery white of refined steel gleamed and shimmered under the candlelight.

Victor ignored the precious Adamantine twin-silver equipment, picking up a suit of refined steel half-body ring mail to inspect it closely.

The so-called refined steel was actually an alloy forged from iron mixed with a small amount of refined iron. Refined steel was much sturdier than ordinary iron, its properties directly proportional to its refined iron content. However, no grade of refined steel was as strong or corrosion-resistant as pure refined iron, though it was also much lighter.

This suit of steel half-ring mail, with a bluish tint to its silvery-white sheen, weighed twelve kilograms. It was made of refined steel with a double-riveted construction, the rings fine and tightly woven. The craftsmanship was exquisite to a shocking degree.

“Beautiful! Worth at least thirty Gold Sols.” Victor nodded, then shook his head and sighed. “Still too heavy. How much refined iron did you add?”

“The ratio of refined iron to iron is 1 to 1.5,” Busuo replied. “My lord, we need more iron to complete the production order for 500 sets of steel ring mail.”

Steel ring mail, paired with a hardened leather under-armor, could effectively defend against various types of physical damage, including piercing, slashing, and bludgeoning—the standard equipment for Elite Soldiers. Refined iron chainmail offered superior protection to steel ring mail, but its heavy weight was a significant burden even for Elite Soldiers, let alone the ordinary soldiers of House of Randell. Thus, few people used refined iron chainmail.

Victor had several thousand suits of refined iron chainmail. Each Alchemical militiaman had a set, leaving a surplus of over two thousand. This expensive armor was disdained by Knights and unusable for Elite Soldiers, making it practically useless. To meet the needs of his regular soldiers, Victor had purchased many old suits of chainmail from the York family. However, purchasing arms was not a long-term solution. With the expansion of the Randell Fief’s army imminent, Victor had gathered iron and ordered Busuo to forge 500 sets of steel half-armor, with each set not to exceed fifteen kilograms.

A normal suit of full steel ring mail with a 1:3 ratio of refined iron was considered excellent quality and weighed fifteen kilograms. The steel half-ring mail forged by the Alchemical auxiliary soldiers had a refined iron to iron ratio of 1:1.5 and weighed twelve kilograms. Although Busuo had tried his best to increase the refined iron content, there was still not enough iron.

The Centaur Hills was rich in refined iron but lacked iron ore resources. Although iron was not a scarce resource, the lords of Gambis were very dissatisfied with the York family’s monopoly on refined iron. Without the royal family needing to take the lead, the lords spontaneously restricted the flow of iron into the Centaur Hills, solely to force the York family to open trade for refined iron in exchange for iron, and at a 1:1 ratio at that.

How could the York family agree to such an outrageous condition? Currently, the Naville controlled the market for refined iron and iron. According to their pricing, refined iron in Gambis was six times the price of iron. Duke York was seeking a 1:5 price ratio and resolutely refused to sell refined iron until he achieved his goal. Duke York’s reasoning was also sound: once the price of refined iron was lowered, it would be difficult to raise it again, unless they sold it to the Sassans. However, Gambis’s own demand for refined iron was not yet met, and selling it to the Sassans would be tantamount to betraying the entire Spire Faction.

The York family had a deep foundation, with its own reserves of iron and no shortage of ready-made weapons and armor. With Sophia’s Merchant association helping them transport iron, they could maintain small-scale rearmament, even if the trade volume was not large.

The two sides were still locked in a game of wits over the price of refined iron. This had put Victor in a terrible position.

According to the agreement made under Divine Notarization, the York family was indeed supplying the Randell Fief with metal ingots at a cheap price, but refined iron comprised a large proportion of it, while the amount of regular iron was pitifully small. To save iron, the farming tools in the Randell Fief were all made of copper.

If Sylvia hadn’t increased the supply of iron, Victor would have been unable to produce military equipment for his regular soldiers.

“Forget it. Halt the production of steel ring mail. Refined iron is valuable, and I’m losing a fortune making steel ring mail at a 1:1.5 ratio. Let’s just forge refined steel at a 1:3 ratio and make as much chainmail as the materials allow.”

“Regular people can’t use this refined iron equipment, so just keep 500 sets in reserve and melt down the rest.” Victor said helplessly. “Take me to the secret vault.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The secret vault was on the second floor of the castle, dedicated to storing precious materials, mainly Ant-man carapaces and rare metals. Pushing the great door open, Victor saw a pile of shimmering silver ingots—it was silver.

As a by-product of Mithril ore, 1,100 pounds of silver had been refined. The small pyramid stacked from silver ingots made Victor’s head spin.

Four years ago, if Victor had this much silver, he would have woken up laughing from his dreams. Now, this silver was just a hot potato.

Gold, silver, and purple copper, as the carriers of currency, were strictly controlled. The circulation of these precious metals was not only watched by the royal family, but local lords and merchant associations were also extremely vigilant about precious metal transactions, even if it was just trading in artifacts.

A glut of currency would lead to inflation, devaluing the Gold Sols accumulated by lords everywhere. For the Nobles, this was equivalent to someone stealing their wealth.

Private minters of currency were the public enemy of all. If Victor ever learned that someone was using privately minted currency to bleed his resources, he would surely beat their brains out.

In fact, the issuance of currency was supervised by the Church—or to be more precise, it was in the hands of the Church.

Every thirty-six years, in a cycle, representatives from each kingdom would carry gold ingots to the Kingdom of Ayr. Under the organization of the Church and the Silver Spire, they would engage in intense negotiations to decide how many Gold Sols to issue. The distribution of these Gold Sols was determined by another method, which had no direct relation to the amount of gold each kingdom brought.

The various kingdoms could independently issue Silver Sols, with the quantity decided by a Senate, but this was also subject to the Church’s supervision. The right to issue Purple Gold Coins, however, was an autonomous act of the royal family. In reality, Purple Gold Coins were bonds issued by the royal family, guaranteed by the credibility of the major royal houses, and they contained precious Adamantine, making them inherently valuable.

The Church was responsible for minting Copper Sols. However, the purchasing power of a Copper Sol was basically equivalent to the value of its copper content. The Sasan Empire had once melted down Copper Sols into copper ingots to forge farming tools and arrowheads, making up for their iron shortage.

Minting Copper Sols was a thankless task. It was best to leave such a fine job to the Church.

Victor had, in fact, minted a small amount of Silver Sols to test the creation-rules of the Alchemy Tower. Unfortunately, the King did not recognize the privately minted silver coins, concluding that four of them were worth only one Copper Sol.

Having no other choice, Victor could only forge these silver ingots into silverware and artifacts and then sell them off slowly. Of course, he hadn’t come to see the silver today.

“Busuo, where are my Mithril, Adamantine, and Thorium?”

“Here, my lord.”

Busuo dragged out three chests made of refined iron from a corner. After opening them, Victor saw the three rare metals.

In the leftmost chest were four purplish-gold metal ingots. This was Adamantine.

Adamantine was found alongside copper ore and was currently the known strongest, most corrosion-resistant metal. A weapon made of refined iron mixed with a little Adamantine would be incomparably sharp, heavy, and durable, and could not be broken by other alloy weapons. Armor forged from refined steel mixed with Adamantine was indestructible and could only be breached by Adamantine weapons, and even then, the outcome of a clash would depend on the Adamantine content of each. This was why Victor wanted to forge Adamantine crossbow bolts.

Adamantine’s durability was unparalleled, yet it was lighter than an equal volume of iron. The four small ingots of Adamantine in the chest weighed only 3.7 pounds. Their market price was 37,000 Gold Sols, while the King’s set price was 35,913 Gold Sols.

Adamantine equipment was absurdly expensive, and its importance to Knights was beyond doubt. Many lesser families lost talent precisely because they could not provide their family Knights with Adamantine equipment.

In the middle chest lay a small, silvery-white metal ingot, only the size of a thumb and weighing just seventy-five grams. Yet, this tiny ingot could be traded for 7.5 pounds of Adamantine. This was because it was the king of precious metals, a truly extraordinary metal—Mithril.

Due to its elemental affinity, Mithril allowed high-ranking Knights to unleash their full combat potential. In their later years, most Silver Knights would undergo the Trial of Life and Death, hoping to resonate with the thirty-six Elemental Nodes between life and death, communicate with the Elemental Sea, and thus gain the hope of advancing to the peak. Although Mithril equipment couldn’t guarantee a Great Knight would survive the Trial of Life and Death, a Great Knight without it was one hundred percent certain to perish.

Mithril equipment was tied to a Silver Knight’s hope of advancement, making it a strategic resource that was never for sale. Moreover, its production was extremely scarce. Victor had mined Mithril ore for three years, smelting half a ton of silver, but had only managed to extract 135 grams of Mithril. Fifty grams of that had been traded for five pounds of Adamantine, leaving only seventy-five grams.

No one would sell Mithril. The value of these seventy-five grams was difficult to measure in gold coins, but the Alchemy Tower had set a price for it: 210,000 Gold Sols!

Mithril was of little use to the House of Randell, and Victor already had his twin-silver equipment, but he did not sacrifice this Mithril to the Alchemy Tower.

Not every high-ranking Knight in the York family possessed Mithril equipment, and the Mithril mine in the Randell Fief would be exposed sooner or later. By keeping this Mithril, Victor could use it in the future to appease the high-ranking Knights of the York family. He wasn’t doing this to curry favor with the York family, but purely for Sylvia’s sake.

No matter how powerful Sylvia was, Victor considered her his woman. He didn’t want Sylvia to be resented by her subordinates over the issue of Mithril. It was Victor’s style to leave some leeway for his woman, and it had nothing to do with personal strength.

Victor could use Adamantine and Mithril to win hearts and trade for benefits, but he would never, ever part with Thorium!

In the Alchemical Empire’s material classification system, Adamantine and Mithril were both Class-II materials, while Thorium was a Class-III material. But in Victor’s eyes, the value of Thorium was immeasurable, far exceeding that of Adamantine and Mithril.

Thorium could fuse with the vast majority of materials, imbuing them with the properties of a memory metal. Thorium equipment that became deformed by external force could return to its original shape. For an industrial civilization, Thorium was already a heaven-defying substance.

In fact, Thorium’s application prospects in this other world were also quite broad, enough to change an era.

Take the making of a yew greatbow as an example. A craftsman must first select yew wood with excellent elasticity, supplement it with cow horn, sinew, and fish glue to make the bow stave, and then tan the sinew. Tanning involved drying a whole cow backstrap sinew and placing it in a special solution to remove the fat. The tanned sinew was just enough to make one greatbow string.

And what about the cost and performance of a yew greatbow?

Yew grew slowly and had poor regenerative ability, making it a precious wood. A yew bowstring required an entire cow, and if it got wet, it was basically ruined. Some Nobles used spider silk bowstrings, but the cost was far too high. Putting aside the range and power of a yew greatbow, the most fatal flaw was that even with the best maintenance, it wouldn’t last ten years. In fact, all ordinary military equipment had a limited lifespan. Even a refined iron longsword would rust, become brittle, and grow unusable over time.

A Thorium greatbow was different.

Thorium could be integrated into most solid materials, displacing the easily perishable parts and giving them the properties of memory metal. This meant a Thorium greatbow didn’t need to be made from yew; any kind of hardwood could be turned into a material with excellent elasticity, such as common Hemlock. As for the bowstring, there was no need to be particular. Cow sinew would work, as would a rope woven from sisal fibers. As long as Thorium was integrated, they would instantly become high-performance metal bowstrings.

A Thorium greatbow’s power and range far exceeded that of a yew greatbow. You could draw it however you pleased, and it would never break, and it could adapt to any environment. Most importantly, a Thorium greatbow would not corrode, rust, or deform! According to the Alchemical auxiliary soldiers, ordinary Thorium equipment could be used for thirty years without maintenance!

As far as Victor knew, the Alchemical Empire used Thorium in its infrastructure, such as in vehicles.

Victor didn’t know if the Alchemical Empire had bearings, but he knew very well that no matter how a Thorium carriage was driven, its axle and wheels would not break easily.

Besides Thorium carriages, there were also Thorium warships. Just the thought of massive Thorium warships sailing the Goldwater River sent a thrill of excitement through Victor.

Inside the third refined iron box were two semi-liquid, spherical masses of metal. They were about the same size, one a pale green-white, the other a standard silvery-white. Though they rested close together, they were clearly distinct and did not mix.

Victor pointed at the silvery-white, paste-like metal sphere and asked, “Busuo, what is this?”

Busuo answered, “My lord, the silver one is Class-I Thorium. The pale green-white one is Class-II Thorium. There are fifty-four pounds of Class-I Thorium, and fifty-one pounds of Class-II Thorium.”

“You can already refine Class-I Thorium?” Victor said in pleasant surprise. “It seems the fire element crystal really is Red Crystal!”

“Yes,” Busuo said. “My lord, the fire element crystals you had Jack bring over were indeed Red Crystals. As soon as we got them, we immediately modified the furnace. With the large furnace, we extracted fifty-four pounds of Class-I Thorium from the old Thorium slag. From now on, your Thorium will all be Class-I.”

The productivity and quality of Thorium were not only limited by the ore, but the furnace was also a major factor. In the beginning, Busuo used charcoal as fuel and could only extract Class-III Thorium. Later, using Oilwood fuel, he could extract Class-II Thorium. However, extracting Class-I Thorium required fire element crystals; otherwise, the furnace temperature would be insufficient.

It took thirty days to refine Class-III Thorium, but only eight days for Class-II. Because Class-II Thorium was much purer than Class-III, the amount of Thorium consumed to make equipment was reduced by forty percent. Refining Class-I Thorium took only three days, and the Thorium consumption was sixty percent less than with Class-III!

With flame crystals, the production efficiency, quality, and quantity of Thorium had all increased dramatically. But Victor’s focus was not on the Thorium itself.

“You just said you used slag to refine Class-I Thorium?”

“Yes, my lord.” Busuo nodded. “After embedding fire element crystals into the inner walls of the furnace, fuel consumption decreased by twenty percent, and the temperature increased by 1.5 times. A large furnace like this is sufficient to extract the Thorium from the slag.”

“Then, can the Mithril slag also be refined?”

“Yes.”

After receiving an affirmative answer, Victor couldn’t help but exclaim, “My iron ore can also be refined!?”

“Of course.”

To the west of the Randell Fief lay an iron ore vein, but its quality was poor, with very low iron content, making it almost worthless to mine. Otherwise, Sylvia would never have given such a large piece of territory to Victor; back then, they did not have the relationship they had now.

The smelting technology of the Alchemical Empire had made that iron ore vein valuable to mine. Victor would no longer be plagued by a shortage of iron. And this advanced technology would bring even more benefits: Victor could simply purchase raw ore, refine various metals, and line his pockets.

However, these were not the reasons for Victor’s excitement. A stunning idea was faintly forming in his mind, but he hadn’t yet sorted it out.

“Thorium… fire element crystal… large furnace…”

Victor paced back and forth in the room, agitated. He stopped and muttered, “No! Thorium is a material! Materials… energy… energy?! Materials! Energy!”

“I know!” Victor clapped his hands. “It’s the steam engine!”

Victor whipped his head around and asked Busuo with a trembling voice, “Busuo! Do you know how to build a steam engine?!”

“My lord, I have no information regarding a steam engine.”

“Alright! A steam engine is a machine. It uses fuel to boil water, using the steam to push a piston, which then drives a ship. Thorium solves the material problem, flame crystals solve the fuel problem… whether there’s gunpowder or not, when water boils, it produces steam, you understand? Can you make one?”

Victor described it incoherently for a while, then stared expectantly at Busuo.

Under Victor’s expectant gaze, Busuo shook his head firmly and slowly, “I do not understand. I cannot make it.”

“You can build Thorium warships! Don’t tell me the Alchemical Empire’s warships are propelled by oars or sails?” Victor exclaimed incredulously.

“My lord, we only manufacture the hull. The ship’s propulsion is handled by Alchemists. Also, the warships do indeed have masts and sails.”

“Alchemical technology…”

Victor shook his head in frustration. He only knew the working principle of a steam engine but had no idea how to actually build one.

Different fields are worlds apart. If someone could replicate a steam engine relying solely on a shred of shallow physics knowledge, Victor would be sure to smack him soundly. Victor had been able to produce white sugar because he had experience with rustic sugar-making methods. Even so, the production of sugar had not been smooth sailing.

The development of a technology tree must follow the Laws of the world and requires a long period of accumulation. Alchemists mastered alchemical technology; to them, a steam engine might just be an inefficient machine, or perhaps it couldn’t even function under this world’s Laws.

There was no way for Victor to restore the alchemical civilization’s system with his fragmentary knowledge, much less transplant Earth’s technology tree to this world. However, the successful use of the fire element crystal still gave him a new line of thought.

“Busuo, the other element crystals… Hmm, let me rephrase! The blue wind element crystals, the green water element crystals, the yellow earth element crystals—what are the uses for each of these?”

Busuo could understand Victor’s meaning. He said, “My lord, all the colored energy crystals are Class-II collectibles. Other than the Red Crystal, I do not know the uses of the other crystals.”

“Heh, I’m guessing the water element crystals and wind element crystals power the Thorium warships. Directly manipulating water currents and air has to be the Alchemists’ way of doing things.” Victor shook his head, then sighed. “Since these are energy crystals, the energy in the Red Crystals must eventually run out. How much longer can these flame crystals last?”

“My lord, these Red Crystals are impure and can only be considered Class-III Red Crystals. The large furnace requires four such crystals to be embedded, and they must be replaced every fifty days. The seventeen Red Crystals you sent will only last for two hundred days.”

“I see.” Victor nodded, then asked, “Are there any other surprises for me?”

“My lord, the Swiftbird flock has expanded to 118. We can now select thirty adult Swiftbirds to form your Swiftbird light cavalry.”

Victor’s interest was immediately piqued. He ignored the darkening sky and pulled Busuo outside.

“Quick, take me to see them.”

Chapter 262: Conflicted

The pen where the Swiftbirds were kept was some distance from the mountain stronghold. By the time Victor arrived, night had completely fallen.

The dim light of the evening could not hinder Victor’s sharp gaze. With his dim vision, he could clearly see over a hundred Swiftbirds of various sizes, divided into four flocks, each lying on the ground in a peaceful slumber.

A few particularly strong Swiftbird alphas, alerted by the movement outside the pen, raised their heads to look. When they saw it was a familiar human, they buried their heads back under their wings.

Swiftbirds are a species of large, omnivorous, ground-running birds native to the Centaur Hills. Their primary diet consists of the leaves of the Purple Cane that grows in the hills, but they also prey on small animals like ground lizards. An adult Swiftbird stands at an average height of 2.4 meters, with a back height of 1.8 meters, a body length of 1.6 meters, and a weight that generally doesn’t exceed 350 kilograms. They possess axe-like beaks, huge wings, and powerful talons.

Swiftbirds are large and muscular, yet flexible and agile. They have excellent obstacle-clearing and hill-climbing abilities, making them perfectly suited for hilly terrain. Their top speed can reach an astonishing 90 kilometers per hour, and they can maintain a speed of 40 kilometers per hour even when traversing mountainous areas. Their burst of power and speed surpasses that of a warhorse, and their superior sense of balance and sharp turning ability are advantages that warhorses lack.

In the early days when human lords began to develop the Centaur Hills, they too had considered taming these large birds, but they quickly gave up on the idea.

The Swiftbird’s temperament wasn’t exactly ferocious, but they were definitely not to be trifled with. They were ill-tempered and surprisingly strong. Their powerful talons could easily kick hard enough to break a soldier’s ribs, and their flexible necks allowed them to quickly turn and attack a rider on their back. Meanwhile, their axe-like beaks were sharp enough to tear through hardened leather armor and inflict fatal wounds.

Swiftbirds are tall and robust, with a considerable appetite, and they have a fondness for Purple Cane leaves. They would turn their beaks up at the dry hay humans provided. However, for humans to develop the Centaur Hills, the first step was to clear the Purple Cane forests on the flatlands. Farmers couldn’t very well plant their crops on the hills, could they? Due to the destruction of the Purple Cane forests, the Swiftbirds’ food source became scarce, and they began to peck at the young shoots in the farmlands. Farmers were often injured or killed trying to drive away these large, crop-destroying birds. The Church’s priests decisively classified the Swiftbirds as beasts of prey and demanded that the lords dispatch soldiers to hunt them down.

There was another important reason why the lords gave up on taming Swiftbirds: their poor carrying capacity. Although Swiftbirds were large and could run fast, they were, after all, bipedal birds. Their carrying capacity was far inferior to that of four-legged livestock like horses and oxen, which had stronger bones. Noble scholars discovered that a load exceeding 230 pounds would affect a Swiftbird’s mobility, while a load of 320 pounds could crush it to the ground.

Ill-tempered, dangerous, difficult to tame, picky eaters, high-maintenance, poor carrying capacity, and less stamina than a warhorse—they were not suitable as mounts.

The conclusion of the Spire Scholars made the lords lose all interest in Swiftbirds, but their meat piqued the interest of the farmers. In the end, thousands of Swiftbirds ended up on the dinner table, with only a few small flocks surviving precariously in the remote southern fiefs.

However, both the Spire Scholars and the Church’s priests overlooked one question: if Swiftbirds ate Purple Cane leaves, why did the Forest Centaurs tolerate these giant birds eating their crops?

Victor had learned from Reno that the Swiftbirds of the Centaur Hills were not wild animals but war-fowls raised by the Halflings. Halflings and Forest Centaurs were symbiotic races, so of course the Forest Centaurs wouldn’t drive the Swiftbirds away.

In fact, Swiftbirds are omnivores and not at all picky. Vegetables, berries, tender sea-buckthorn leaves, and even meat were all on their menu. It was just that the Swiftbirds in the Centaur Hills had grown accustomed to the sugar-rich Purple Cane leaves, creating the false impression that they were picky eaters. Moreover, Swiftbirds are far more intelligent than horses. They have a strong sense of community, are good at cooperating, will protect their companions, and are formidable in a fight. Even if they couldn’t be mounts, they would be excellent combat partners.

If Swiftbirds were truly untamable, the Halflings would never have dared to raise them as war-fowls. Even human soldiers faced life-threatening danger when attacked by Swiftbirds, let alone the short and frail Halflings.

In truth, taming a Swiftbird is simple. The first moving object a Swiftbird sees upon hatching is imprinted on it as a companion. If you then feed it, this bond is solidified. Based on this mutual trust, a trainer can teach the Swiftbird various commands, turning it into a qualified mount and combat partner.

The first generation of Swiftbirds in the Randell Fief only saw Halflings as companions. The Alchemical auxiliary soldiers spent a great deal of effort to get them to accept human commands, but they would still occasionally act aggressively towards humans. Therefore, ordinary people could not ride the first-generation Swiftbirds.

The thirty adult Swiftbirds provided by Busuo were all second-generation. The first thing they saw when they hatched were Alchemical humans, and they had been trained by Alchemical humans since birth. They already saw humans as companions. These Swiftbirds were comparable to well-trained hounds; unless ordered by their master or to protect their master, they generally would not attack others unprovoked.

Of course, as large creatures, Swiftbirds were not entirely without threat. But even warhorses kick out sometimes. You can’t just abandon cavalry because a warhorse might act up, can you?

The terrain of the Centaur Hills was not suitable for traditional cavalry to maneuver and fight, but Swiftbird light cavalry would not be hindered by the hilly landscape. The Swiftbirds’ hill-climbing ability would allow the light cavalry to cross hills, penetrate enemy formations, and their excellent sense of balance would make the light cavalry’s crossbows and longbows more accurate and deadly. Their superior speed would allow the light cavalry to launch swift raids and retreat just as quickly.

Imagine this: Swiftbird light cavalry composed of Lithe Ape militiamen, positioned high on the hills, accurately shooting down the enemy’s elite soldiers. They could then use the terrain to easily evade heavily armored enemy Knights. If they were pursued by an enemy Great Knight, the Swiftbird light cavalry would immediately disperse and retreat. If the enemy Great Knight fixated on a single Swiftbird rider, the remaining light cavalry would continue to eliminate the enemy’s regular forces, while the Great Knight, now isolated and deep in enemy territory, would face a volley from Thorium heavy crossbows.

A battle where one side can only take hits without being able to strike back would be a devastating blow to enemy morale. The kiting tactics of the Swiftbird light cavalry would be more than enough to compensate for any disparity in high-end combat power.

If the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard combat squads were a strategic force, then the Swiftbird light cavalry was a tactical one. Moreover, the Swiftbird light cavalry didn’t need to be hidden; they were an elite unit that could be displayed openly.

In peacetime, the Swiftbird light cavalry would conduct patrols and rapid support missions. With Laketon as their base, they could reach any corner of the Randell Fief within four hours. This elite cavalry would significantly increase Victor’s control over his territory and effectively alleviate the pressure on the understaffed patrol teams.

Most importantly, Swiftbird light cavalry looked cool and impressive.

The taming and supply of the Swiftbirds were not problems. The most difficult issue now was their carrying capacity.

Victor asked, “Busuo, do you have an equipment plan for the Swiftbird light cavalry?”

“My lord, based on your requirements for lethality and defense, the Swiftbird cavalry would be equipped with Thorium leather armor, an Iron-oak Thorium one-handed spear, an Iron-oak round shield, a refined steel Thorium shortsword, a Thorium composite bow, a Thorium crossbow, forty refined iron arrows, twenty refined iron crossbow bolts, and one tactical satchel. The equipment weighs 52 pounds. The average weight of a Lithe Ape militiaman is 173 pounds. The total load is 225 pounds, which will not affect the Swiftbirds.”

Busuo’s proposed equipment plan made Victor frown repeatedly. He asked again, “How much Class-I Thorium would this Thorium equipment consume?”

Busuo replied succinctly, “2.4 pounds.”

“It seems we have enough Thorium. However, now is not the time for Thorium to make its debut. This can only be a backup plan.”

Victor sighed and shook his head. “Set aside the Thorium equipment for now. Give me another plan.”

Busuo immediately provided another solution. “Steel ring mail with a vine-hide inner layer, a crossbow, a composite longbow, twenty refined iron crossbow bolts, forty regular arrows, and one tactical satchel. The equipment weighs 70 pounds. We will select Lithe Ape militiamen who weigh under 160 pounds. The total load will not exceed 230 pounds.”

“Sacrifice the light cavalry’s offensive power and close-combat capabilities just to reduce weight? No!” Victor flatly rejected this plan.

Conventional cavalry were the elite of the elite. Their tactics were flexible and varied; they had to be capable of mounted archery as well as dismounted combat. Their equipment was extremely fine, balancing both offensive and defensive capabilities.

Because they had warhorses for transportation, cavalry were equipped with heavier and more protective scale armor and round shields. In terms of offensive options, besides crossbows and composite bows, close-combat weapons were essential, including cavalry lances, one-handed halberds, one-handed swords, and maces, all of which were made of refined iron.

The Swiftbird’s pathetic carrying capacity meant it could not bear the weight of elite cavalry equipment. And fine equipment was the greatest advantage of human soldiers. Losing that equipment advantage would render the Swiftbird cavalry meaningless, suitable only for use as scouts and messengers.

The advent of Thorium made Victor’s envisioned Swiftbird light cavalry a possibility. However, now was not the time to reveal Thorium equipment.

According to Victor’s plan, he first needed to stockpile one million Gold Sol so the Alchemy Tower could endlessly produce alchemical creatures. Second, he had to build the Hill Camp into a massive fortress to ensure the Alchemy Tower’s absolute safety. Then, he would take advantage of the other lords’ ignorance about Thorium to purchase Thorium ore from their lands at low prices and build up a huge reserve of Thorium resources.

Only after completing these three steps would Victor unveil his Thorium equipment.

At present, the Swiftbird light cavalry could not openly use Thorium equipment, and regular equipment could not provide both offense and defense. If they adopted Busuo’s second plan, the Swiftbird light cavalry would be equipped with steel ring mail but no melee weapons. This would give them basic defensive capabilities but leave them lacking in close-combat options, turning them into mere mounted archers. However, unless a ranged attack from a bow or crossbow hit a vital spot, it was rarely a one-hit kill, making the ability to deliver a finishing blow crucial.

The situation on the battlefield could change in an instant. This equipment configuration offered tactics that were too one-dimensional and had limited lethality, severely reducing the operational value of the Swiftbird light cavalry. Victor decisively rejected it.

“The steel ring mail weighs 15 kilograms, which is 33 pounds,” Victor said helplessly. “That’s half the equipment’s load! It seems we’ll have to swap the steel ring mail for an Iron-oak round shield and a refined iron scimitar.”

“My lord, in that case, we won’t need to select the lighter Lithe Ape militiamen.”

“Mm, the Swiftbirds can also participate in combat, so we don’t need to worry about the light cavalry’s fighting strength. It’s just the Lithe Ape militiamen’s defense…”

The Lithe Ape militiamen were not weak in close combat, but their Physique was only 12 points. Even an ordinary Gnoll could tear through their vine-hide armor and kill them. Given House Randell’s current finances, Victor would feel the sting of losing even a single Alchemical militia.

Of course, the most important thing was, if the Swiftbird light cavalry wore the same vine-hide armor as the regular militia, where would be the imposing presence of an elite cavalry unit? This was truly a great disappointment to Lord Viscount Randell.

“Besides Thorium leather armor, isn’t there any other type of leather armor that’s both dignified and durable?” Victor couldn’t help but complain.

Busuo interjected, “There is.”

“Oh?!”

Victor was taken aback for a moment, then pressed, “Quick, tell me! What kind of leather armor?”

“Dragon-Lizard leather armor!” Busuo replied in a deadpan voice.

“Ugh… isn’t that the same as saying nothing?”

Busuo’s answer left Victor unsure whether to laugh or cry. Dragon-Lizard leather armor was the highest-grade leather armor, made from the hides of Marsh Dragon-Lizards or Mountain Dragon-Lizards. It was flexible, lightweight, and its defensive capabilities surpassed even refined steel armor. Putting aside the question of whether they could even hunt the dire Dragon-Lizards with their dangerous intuition, each piece of Dragon-Lizard leather armor was worth no less than 25,000 Gold Sol. If Victor had Dragon-Lizard leather armor, he might as well trade it for Gold Sol and create more Alchemical Dragon-Lizards.

Although equipping the Swiftbird light cavalry with Dragon-Lizard leather armor was absurd, it did give Victor an idea.

“I can purchase some giant rhino hide and have you make rhino-hide vine armor. That must be much stronger than cowhide-vine armor!”

Busuo stated flatly, “My lord, rhino hide is the heaviest type of leather. Its defensive properties are inferior to the hides of the six-legged crocodile and the Giant Python.”

“Six-legged crocodile? Giant Python?”

“The six-legged crocodile and the Giant Python are both marsh creatures. Their Physique attributes are 14 and 13 respectively, higher than the Giant Rhinoceros Beast’s 12. Their keratinous scaled hides are exceptionally tough. If we use six-legged crocodile hide as the outer layer, Giant Python hide as the inner layer, with a layer of woven vine fibers in between, this type of leather armor would be slightly heavier than regular vine-hide armor, but its defensive capabilities would be even better than refined steel scale armor.”

Victor’s eyes lit up, and he asked in rapid succession, “Are there many six-legged crocodiles and Giant Pythons? Are they dire animals? Are they easy to catch?”

“My lord, the six-legged crocodile and the Giant Python are both common beasts with low intelligence. They are not difficult to capture. According to Jack’s investigation, the Great Marsh is home to vast numbers of six-legged crocodiles and Giant Pythons.”

Since his return, Victor had been swamped with affairs and hadn’t had time to hear Jack’s reconnaissance report on the Great Marsh. Now, his interest in the natural resources of the Great Marsh was thoroughly piqued.

“Have Jack come see me.”

————————————

“My lord, the six-legged crocodile, also called the six-legged lizard, is an omnivorous, social animal. It grows to a length of 7 meters, with an average weight of 6000 pounds. Its meat is delicious, a Class-III food item. Its keratinous hide is reddish-brown, smooth, with a plate-like structure, and is very tough, making it a Class-III natural resource. The six-legged crocodile is immensely strong with an extremely powerful bite. Its rolling tear attack is devastating and capable of killing a Marsh Dragon-Lizard.”

“The Giant Python is a carnivorous snake, 12 to 15 meters in length, with an average weight of 3500 pounds. It is a Class-III food item. The Giant Python’s keratinous hide is black and scale-like, offering strong defense against slashing and piercing damage, categorizing it as a Class-III natural resource. A Giant Python can constrict most creatures, including adult Ogres. They can also spit highly corrosive stomach acid at their enemies with a range of 30 meters, making them very dangerous…”

Late at night, the study in the mountain stronghold was brightly lit by candles. Jack, the first Lithe Ape militiaman, was reporting to his master on the situation in the Great Marsh.

Victor listened with great interest, all sleepiness gone. He had never expected the Great Marsh to hold such a rich diversity of natural resources.

Jack had led a team of Alchemical militia on a 117-day expedition, exploring 23,000 square kilometers of the Great Marsh. They had discovered over a hundred types of usable resources, including animals, plants, and minerals.

Those twenty-three thousand square kilometers were just the tip of the iceberg. The marsh was inhabited by countless animals. Large animals included the six-legged crocodile, Giant Python, capybara, giant shadow spider, Serpent Fiend, Marsh Dragon-Lizard, Barlow Turtle, Saw-toothed Tiger Sturgeon, and so on, while various types of turtles, fish, shrimp, and birds were innumerable.

Among these animals were many valuable species. For example, the blood of the shadow spider was the main ingredient for making a color-changing dye. This dye, a Class-I potion, could make Thorium leather armor change color with its surroundings, like a chameleon. Most critically, the Alchemical militia could produce this color-changing dye!

The plant resources in the Great Marsh were also abundant. There were seventeen types of usable medicinal herbs, seven of which were related to the Alchemist’s Restoration Potion—the very one that used Kui Root from the Gloomy Forest as its main ingredient.

However, Victor paid special attention to two non-medicinal plants.

Thousand-Bend Reed, a marsh plant, was extremely widespread. Its rhizomes and seeds were edible and served as the main food source for capybaras. The shape of the reed and its seeds were similar to sorghum. It could be harvested twice a year and could be used as a food source for humans.

Blue Taro, an extremely delicious Class-I food item, was very rare. It only grew in the soil of the small islands within the marsh and was a rare delicacy that the Alchemical militia were required to gather.

Since the Alchemists held Blue Taro in such high regard, Victor was also very interested in tasting this delicious food.

In addition, Jack had discovered a special mineral, for which he repeatedly requested Victor to issue a mining order. It was Saronite Demon Iron Ore.

Saronite Demon Iron Ore was extremely rare and could be refined into Saronite Steel, a Class-I material in the Alchemical Empire.

It was the discovery of a fragment of a one-handed runic greatsword forged from Saronite Steel in the Gloomy Forest that had led the Alchemical militia to deduce the existence of Alchemical Empire ruins nearby. The Alchemical humans did not understand the properties and uses of Saronite Steel, but in their Will Side, Saronite Demon Iron was a resource that had to be collected. If Victor had followed the standard practice of the Alchemical Empire and let the Alchemical humans freely gather resources, mining the Saronite Demon Iron Ore would have been the highest priority task for the Alchemical militia.

Victor was naturally interested in a material so highly valued by the Alchemical Empire. However, the Saronite Demon Iron vein discovered by Jack was located near an Ogre lair. Only a small portion of it was on the surface, with the rest extending deep into a pond, making it exceptionally difficult to mine. For the time being, Victor was unable to mine the Saronite Demon Iron Ore.

When Jack finished describing the process of capturing the wizard, Victor couldn’t help but jump to his feet.

“That fellow named Imosen is a Rogue Wizard? With a status second only to an Alchemist? Governed by the Mages’ Association? What the devil is a Mages’ Association?”

Jack said respectfully, “My lord, His Excellency Imosen is indeed a Mage, under the jurisdiction of the Mages’ Association. I have no information about the Mages’ Association, nor any information about devils.”

Victor exclaimed in vexation, “You never told me that Wizards are the Mages of the Alchemical Empire!”

“My lord, you never asked. I also did not know that Mages are called Wizards in this era.”

Victor fell into silent contemplation. The Alchemical militia’s term for Wizard sparked many theories in his mind.

Jack claimed that Alchemists had a higher status than Mages. Assuming Pinnacle Knights were Alchemists, then during the era of the Alchemical Empire, Knights had a higher status than Wizards. By the Era of the Chosen, their positions had reversed, with Knights becoming the servants and assistants of Wizards. After the rise of the Radiant Church, Wizards once again became pariahs, hunted by everyone.

What could have caused such a dramatic change?

Did the Alchemists lose their power, allowing the Mages to rise? What role did the Wizards play in the fall of the Alchemical Empire? Could it be that the Wizards colluded with the Devils to overthrow the Alchemists’ rule? If so, why didn’t the Wizards exterminate the knight’s bloodline, and why did they protect them during the Era of the Chosen?

The candle flame flared, and the flickering light in the room interrupted Victor’s train of thought.

Victor turned his gaze to Jack and asked gravely, “You just said that Imosen can communicate with the Lizardmen?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“I see. You may leave.”

Jack bowed and departed. Victor walked to the window, looked up at the silver moon in the sky, and a bold idea formed in his mind.

Victor had originally come to the mountain stronghold this time intending to secretly execute the Wizard father and daughter.

Wizardry was strange and unpredictable, impossible to guard against, and inspired fear. Who knew what kind of retaliatory measures Imosen the Wizard possessed, especially since he had already discovered the secrets of the mountain stronghold. Victor didn’t want to gamble with his own life, nor did he want to stir up trouble. Killing them was the simplest solution.

However, Imosen’s ability to communicate with the Lizardmen made Victor change his mind, and in doing so, saved the lives of the father and daughter.

If he could establish trade with the Lizardmen, it was worth taking a small risk!

Chapter 263: An Absurd First Meeting

Four fully armed soldiers escorted Imosen as they walked through the castle’s long corridor.

The corridor seemed endless. Sunlight pierced through the narrow ventilation grates, casting bright specks of light on the walls and indicating that it was morning.

Imosen pulled his clothes tighter. The damp, gloomy corridor sent a chill through his body, and the soldiers beside him offered no sense of security.

These four soldiers carried large, cold-looking longswords and were clad head to toe in refined iron armor, resembling four tall, burly iron monstrosities. The heavy thud of their footsteps and the clang of their armor echoed down the corridor, creating a cold, oppressive atmosphere that made even the usually lively and innocent little Bel lose her spirit. She hid her small body tightly behind her father.

Imosen knew this was not an escort but an armed transfer. He was certain that if he made the slightest unusual move, the refined iron longswords in the soldiers’ hands would instantly slice him and Bel into pieces.

Since their capture, Imosen and his daughter had been living in this mountain castle. The imprisonment, torture, and interrogation they had imagined never came to pass. For months, these mysterious soldiers had treated the father and daughter with respect, satisfying their requests as much as possible. Imosen and Bel were even allowed to go hunting, accompanied by the soldiers.

A magnificent castle, respectable clothing, a comfortable living environment, plentiful food, fine wine, deferential attendants, and free time. This was not the treatment of a prisoner. Imosen believed that even Baron Thornton, whom he had previously served, would not have hosted his noble relatives in such a manner.

The comfortable life mended the traces the wilderness had left on the father and daughter. The scrawny little Bel had clearly put on weight, and the weed-like beard and long hair had vanished from Imosen’s face and head. Here, they lived like Nobles.

Bel began to look for new playmates. Although there were many soldiers and craftsmen in and around the castle, they were busy from morning to night and had no time for her. However, this did not deter Bel, who could make friends with horned frogs. She found a flock of strange, large birds and quickly befriended them. These birds would sometimes carry Bel around, and at other times, they would bring her shredded ground lizards, clearly regarding her as one of their own.

Imosen enjoyed the treatment of a nobleman, but he was not a noble, nor did he ever see himself as one. He worked hard to build good relationships with the people here, helping with farming, logging, and hauling ore. Thus, the father and daughter’s days were quite fulfilling.

Bel, being young and innocent, was happy and carefree all day long. Imosen, however, sensed an indescribable mystery in many of the details, along with a fear that chilled him to the bone.

Transporting stone and building a castle in the continuous mountain range was a miracle in itself; only a massive power could complete such a colossal project. At first, Imosen didn’t know why this mysterious force was building a castle in the mountains, but he soon discovered many incredible things.

The castle’s building materials were not heavy stones but uniform green bricks that were somehow even sturdier than rock! Imosen believed these bricks were worth a fortune. If they were ever to appear in the outside world, they would undoubtedly cause a massive uproar, and who knew how many would lose their lives over them.

However, having been away from human society for over a decade, Imosen couldn’t be sure if this brick-making technology had already become widespread. But then, Imosen discovered there were no women here, only men. The laborers who transported the ore were all as strong as bears, and the men in charge of smelting were all top-tier master smiths.

Powerful warriors served as laborers, and master smiths worked without complaint. They were taciturn, had no need for women or wages, worked more than a dozen hours a day, and barely communicated, yet they cooperated with flawless synchronicity.

All these signs indicated that they were not normal people!

After seeing the laborers transporting “Mithril ore,” Imosen finally had a revelation.

Connecting this with those strange “dire wolves,” Imosen came to a conclusion: some lord was keeping Wizards, who had enhanced and controlled several hundred people to build this castle and secretly mine the precious Mithril ore. Or perhaps, this was simply a secret stronghold of a Wizard, with no connection to any Nobles.

Believing he had uncovered a heaven-shattering secret, Imosen was both terrified and filled with anticipation.

Although Imosen was a Wizard, the education he received from a young age had filled him with an aversion to his own kind, especially one who possessed the power to control human minds. Nevertheless, Imosen still hoped the master of this place was a Wizard, not a lord.

In Imosen’s mind, noble lords were lofty and merciless, viewing commoners as ants. To protect their secrets, they would not hesitate to kill any lower-class people. Imosen considered himself and Bel to be lower-class people.

The bloodline-centric worldview was deeply ingrained in this era. Even though Imosen was a powerful Wizard, he never had the slightest thought of challenging the authority of a lord.

Imosen had also thought of escaping, but the power wielded by the castle’s master made him despair. Moreover, the backlash from his Wizardry had not yet healed, and he was currently unable to use Biological Aberrations. Other than his Will Communion ability, Imosen was no different from an ordinary person.

Torn by anxiety, Imosen spent half a year here. Yesterday, he and his daughter were placed under house arrest in their room in the castle. Imosen understood that the time to face his destiny had arrived.

Even the longest corridor has an end. When Imosen saw the wooden door at the end of the corridor, his footsteps suddenly became even heavier than those of the armored warriors.

A guard pushed open the great Iron-oak door. Imosen took a deep breath and walked in with Bel.

Behind the great door was the castle’s great hall. Bright sunlight streamed through four windows, casting its glow upon the tidy interior. Compared to the cramped and gloomy corridor, the hall seemed exceptionally spacious and bright. Yet, Imosen felt an icy chill that made him tremble uncontrollably.

On both sides of the great hall stood fully armed soldiers. They were powerfully built and clad in fine armor, their refined iron one-handed halberds gleaming with a faint indigo light. Every one of them stared at Imosen’s every move with hawk-like sharpness. Six massive dire wolves squatted in front of the soldiers, subtly encircling Imosen. Being stared at by twelve pairs of green, glowing eyes would make most people’s blood run cold. Imosen tremblingly cast his gaze to the center of the great hall. When he saw the figure on the castle’s throne, he couldn’t help but let out a silent cry of despair in his heart.

It was a handsome young man with black hair and black eyes. His black armor was as deep as midnight, its exquisite and intricate design beyond mortal imagination. A gauntleted hand grasped a longsword that radiated a cold light, its sharp tip resting on the floor, the bright, frigid gleam mirroring that of his eyes.

His striking appearance, his commanding presence, his exquisite armor, and his Mithril longsword all pointed to one thing: this was a Knight, a noble. For Imosen, this was the worst possible scenario. His only hope now was that this lord would value his Wizardry. However, the gulf in their statuses and the hostility of the nobility placed immense pressure on Imosen, so much so that his body grew stiff, his mind went blank, and he couldn’t utter a single word.

Victor was just as nervous. The little Baron had died at the hands of a Wizard, which left Victor deeply wary of these people who wielded extraordinary power.

For this meeting, Victor had made meticulous arrangements. Thirty Alchemical militia, armed to the teeth, were ready to react to the Alchemical Warhounds’ cues. If the Warhounds sensed danger, they would instantly hack the Wizard into a bloody pulp. Victor had specifically worn his personal armor, forged from the Ant-man chief’s carapace, Thorium, and Mithril. It weighed only eighteen kilograms, yet its defense was absolutely superior to any type of Mithril armor. The Adamantine-silver sword in his hand was also top-tier equipment. Victor was less than six meters from Imosen. If he saw the flash of runes on Imosen’s body, he would, in the space of 0.2 seconds, swing his sword and cleave the Wizard’s head from his shoulders.

From the moment Imosen entered the room, Victor had been in his Apocalypse state. He could clearly perceive Imosen’s chaotic, irregular heartbeat, but his focus was solely on the changes in the light around the Wizard. He remained silent, not asking a single question.

In truth, Victor was being overly cautious. Wizards had a myriad of strange abilities, but the more powerful the Wizardry, the more demanding the casting time and conditions. Wizards who could directly inflict death on a spiritual level were exceedingly rare. Not only did their Wizardry require a long preparation time, but it also necessitated special rituals, and the slightest misstep could result in a fatal backlash. The Wizard who had killed the little Baron had died in precisely this way.

Fear stems from the unknown. Victor didn’t understand Wizards, nor did he know what abilities Imosen possessed. Faced with a public enemy of the human world, his reaction was only natural.

Imosen didn’t dare to speak, Victor forgot to speak, and the Alchemical militia had no need to speak. The atmosphere in the great hall froze, like a scene from an absurd painting, until a small head peeked out from behind Imosen.

Bel glanced curiously at Victor, then shrank back behind her father, but those clear, innocent eyes stirred Victor’s deeply ingrained moral principles. In the civilized society of a peaceful era, no normal person would frighten a child for no reason.

The coldness quietly faded, and the dark eyes regained their liveliness. Victor exited his Apocalypse state. It all happened so naturally that Victor was completely unaware that his compassion had been awakened while in an Overlimit state.

It was not until many years later that Victor would learn that disarming hostility was one of Bel’s three innate self-preservation talents in her childhood. It was this ability to be utterly charming to all that always allowed Bel to turn peril into safety, and Victor, by association, benefited greatly from it as well. Of course, that is a story for another time.

Imosen was jolted back to his senses at the same time. He bowed and said respectfully, “Honored Master, good day. It is my honor and my PLeasure to finally meet you.”

“Your name is Imosen?”

“Yes, Honored Master.”

“Imosen, your attendant’s etiquette is very proper. It seems you have served a certain Your Excellency before. But I am not your liege lord, and you need not call me Master. However, I am very interested in your story.” Victor gave a slight nod and instructed Jack, who was beside him, “Get Imosen, and this…”

Imosen quickly pulled Bel out from behind him and said fawningly, “Beldina. My honorable and merciful lord, you can call her Bel.”

At this time, Bel was just an ordinary-looking little girl. She left a harmless impression on Victor, who felt a stir of pity. He smiled and said, “Give Mr. Imosen and Miss Bel a seat each. I want to hear their story.”

The Alchemical militia brought over two chairs. Imosen sat down, overwhelmed by the favor, and said, “I am at My lord’s service.” Then, he began to recount his and Bel’s story to Victor.

Victor listened quietly. Unconsciously, his hostility was disarmed, and the atmosphere in the great hall became harmonious and natural. Only the alchemical creatures remained unmoved, their eyes still fixed intently on Imosen and his daughter.

Chapter 264: Employing the Untrustworthy

The Santon family was once a minor noble house on the southeastern border of the Kingdom of Gambia. Imosen’s family had served the Santons for generations; his grandfather and father had both been Baron Santon’s master of the hunt. As the eldest son of this vassal family, Imosen was destined to inherit the position. From a young age, he began to study all kinds of animals, assisting his grandfather and father in managing the lord’s cattle and livestock, treating sick animals, training hounds and warhorses, and patrolling the barony’s wild resources.

Imosen was clever and quick-witted from childhood, displaying an extraordinary talent for taming beasts. The hunting dogs and warhorses he trained were exceptionally intelligent, knowing how to coordinate with their masters’ actions. Thanks to these outstanding hounds, the Santon family always managed to shine in a nobleman’s hunt. Consequently, Imosen was highly regarded by Baron Santon. At the age of twenty, he took over from his father and became the master of the hunt for the Santon Barony.

Within a lord’s administrative hierarchy, the status of the master of the hunt was second only to the lord’s steward. At just twenty years old, Imosen’s appointment as master of the hunt instantly made him a hot commodity in the Santon family. In the same year, the baron’s steward married his youngest daughter to the promising young Imosen.

His marriage to the steward’s daughter was the most glorious moment of Imosen’s life. Parker, the resident priest, presided over the wedding, and Baron Santon himself acted as their witness. Every influential vassal of the family offered their blessings to the newlyweds. Imosen’s father’s face beamed with pride, for his son was the best hunter, the best veterinarian, the best beast tamer, and the best master of the hunt.

At the time, no one knew that Imosen was a Wizard.

When Imosen was fourteen, he discovered he could actually understand the meanings expressed by various animals. He immediately realized he might be one of the legendary Wizards. Having received an Attendant education, Imosen was no ignorant farmer’s son. He buried this secret deep in his heart, never revealing it to anyone.

For a time afterward, Imosen bore a heavy psychological burden. He no longer dared to go near animals, became listless and melancholic, and grew more gaunt by the day until he finally fell ill. The heir to the master of the hunt was afraid of animals? Imosen became the laughingstock of the Santon lands. To restore his family’s honor, after ordinary herbal remedies proved ineffective, his grandfather spent four hundred Gold Sols to have the resident priest perform a divine art for Imosen.

The effect of the divine art was surprisingly good. Imosen was able to get up and walk right away. The next day, he followed his father out to tend to the lord’s livestock and gradually began to display his extraordinary talent for taming beasts. The rumors about the master of the hunt’s family were swept away, and Imosen’s parents thanked the Father and made an offering to the Church.

In truth, divine arts excelled at healing wounds, but their effect on illnesses was only average, sometimes even less effective than herbal medicine. What the resident priest had truly cured was an ailment of the mind. Imosen discovered that the priest of the Lord of Radiance had not detected his identity as a Wizard, which set his mind completely at ease.

From then on, Imosen grew bolder and bolder, beginning to use his abilities to train hunting dogs and warhorses, becoming the most remarkable beast tamer in the Santon family.

If not for an accident, Imosen might have been able to live like this forever.

It was the third year after Bel’s birth. Imosen had taken his three-year-old daughter with him to visit his wife’s family. That afternoon, Bel was taking a nap. Following his wife’s instructions, Imosen went into the room to check on his darling daughter. Just as he was wiping the sweat from Bel’s brow, he suddenly awakened his third Wizardry—Wisdom Guidance. This was an advanced Wizardry. His hand, resting on Bel’s forehead, directly manifested red runes. This very scene was witnessed by a maid. The woman thought Bel was a Wizard and screamed at the top of her lungs.

Bel’s maternal uncle burst in. He saw the runes spinning on Bel’s forehead, Imosen trying to cover them with his hand, and the maid pointing at Bel and screaming. He quickly shut the door and killed the maid on the spot. By this time, Imosen had also brought the runes under control, making them dissipate.

But it was too late. The appearance of a Wizard offspring was a disaster for a vassal family. To protect their power and status, both sides agreed to secretly put Bel to death. Imosen acquiesced to this outcome, but his wife fled in the middle of the night with Bel. Imosen and Bel’s uncle caught up with the mother and daughter in the wilderness. To protect her daughter, Bel’s mother died at the hands of her own brother. His wife’s dying pleas and Bel’s cries touched Imosen’s conscience and fatherly love. He killed his wife’s brother and, with Bel and a few hunting dogs, began life as a fugitive.

Imosen had a wealth of wilderness survival knowledge. With the help of his aberrant hounds, they traveled by night and hid by day. After enduring many hardships, they finally entered the Centaur Hills, leaving the human world behind. However, the Forest Centaurs detested Biological Aberrations. Before migrating, they killed all of Imosen’s aberrant hounds and drove the father and daughter into the Lizard Marsh.

The Lizard Marsh was fraught with danger. Imosen survived with great difficulty, relying on more than thirty Aberrant Rats. Only after he successfully created an Aberration of a Marsh Dragon-Lizard did he manage to gain a firm foothold. Later, the Aberrant Dragon-Lizard, Itugos, swept through the Ogre tribe, and Imosen finally occupied a piece of territory in the Great Marsh and established contact with a Half-dragon tribe. Following the Half-dragons’ advice, Imosen avoided the Ant-man tide, only to be captured by Jack in the end.

Imosen narrated his story brilliantly. Paired with his aged face, white hair, and occasional choked sobs, his experience was like a tear-jerking film, making one reluctant to question its authenticity. Unfortunately, Victor still found many holes in it, but now was not the time to expose them.

“Will Communion, Biological Aberration, and Wisdom Guidance. Of your three Wizardries, only Wisdom Guidance requires manifesting runes. The other two wouldn’t have attracted the priest’s attention?”

Imosen wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes and said in a low voice, “That’s right, My lord.”

“Then create a Biological Aberration for me to see right now,” Victor said with great interest.

For a lord, a Biological Aberration was of immense value. Victor’s request made Imosen secretly rejoice, but his Spirit was currently too weak to use the ability. He could only explain in a panic, “My lord, my injuries haven’t healed yet. I’m afraid it will be a few more days before I can perform Wizardry.”

“In that case, the Biological Aberrations you create with your Wizardry—can their flesh and blood cause other creatures to become Aberrations?”

“That… doesn’t seem to be the case.”

Imosen hesitated for a moment. He didn’t dare lie about this question and answered honestly, “The creatures I create an Aberration of are not naturally occurring Aberrations. Their flesh and blood have no effect on ordinary creatures.”

“So they’re useless?” Victor asked deliberately.

“My lord, I can control Biological Aberrations. If you give them time to grow, they will definitely be stronger than your dire wolves,” Imosen explained earnestly, trying to hint at his own value to Victor.

The phenomenon of Aberration was even rarer than that of the Savage state. Most Aberrant beasts were low-level creatures like insects, and intelligent species would never undergo Aberration. The forms of Biological Aberrations were strange and varied, but they always developed in ways that favored slaughter. Their bodies became unusually large, and their strength and agility multiplied, making them far more dangerous than dire animals.

Aberrant beasts had low intelligence, a strong instinct for Bloodlust, and could not reproduce. However, the flesh and blood of an Aberrant beast could cause other creatures to undergo Aberration, but this contagion would gradually weaken, eventually forming a completely new species.

During the Era of the Chosen, Wizards used the flesh of Biological Aberrations to cultivate powerful war beasts, a method that has been passed down to this day. The Swift Dragons of Gambis, the unicorns of the Randt Empire, and the sword spiders of Naville were all war beasts cultivated through Aberration. The Knight orders they formed with Knights were the strategic forces of their respective kingdoms.

Aberrant war beasts were comparable to dire animals in Physique, strength, and endurance, and were even superior in combat prowess. Their offspring were equally powerful. However, their intelligence was slightly lower than that of dire animals, and they lacked a keen intuition for danger. Furthermore, aberrant war beasts were strictly carnivorous, making their upkeep astonishingly expensive.

Imosen’s Biological Aberrations couldn’t be used to cultivate aberrant war beasts, which meant they lacked their greatest value. Although he emphasized that he could control and strengthen them, this was precisely what Victor did not need.

Victor would never cultivate a power he could not control. The stronger the power Imosen commanded, the less he could be tolerated. Besides, with the Alchemical Dragon-Lizards, Victor had little interest in aberrant war beasts.

In Victor’s view, the only value of this Wizardry was to provide tough Aberrant beast hides, but even that depended on the feeding costs and the quality of the leather.

Compared to Biological Aberrations, Victor was more concerned about Imosen’s relationship with the Lizardmen.

“Can you communicate with Lizardmen?”

“What is your relationship with the Lizardmen like?”

“Did you trade with that Lizardman tribe?”

“How large is that Lizardman tribe, and what is its strength?”

Victor’s questions were detailed, and Imosen answered them one by one, even describing some of the Lizardmen’s habits. But he didn’t know that the Alchemical militia’s understanding of Lizardmen was far deeper than his.

Lizardmen were amphibious, living by fishing and hunting. They raised Serpent Fiends as war beasts. Tribe members had close bonds, but relations between different tribes were very cold, sometimes even involving blood feuds. The Hydra Lizard was the totem behemoth they worshipped. To get closer to the Hydra Lizard’s territory, tribes often fought brutal wars against each other. Powerful Lizardman tribes could serve the Hydra Lizard and thrive under the behemoth’s protection. Weaker tribes could only be driven away to struggle for survival in the dangerous Great Marsh, left to fend for themselves.

The Lizardman tribe Imosen was friendly with had only a little over five hundred members and raised thirteen Serpent Fiends. It could only be considered a small tribe. Based on the Lizardmen’s thirty-to-one ratio for entering a Savage state, this small tribe would have at most twenty savage Lizardmen. Their strength was very average.

In fact, this Lizardman tribe had regarded Itugos as a totem behemoth and had been living and breeding in its territory. Now that Itugos was out of control and had become a true Biological Aberration, the tribe was in for some terrible luck. It was questionable whether they could even survive, let alone conduct trade with them.

With the nearest Lizardman tribe finished just like that, Victor’s mood soured. He glanced at Imosen and said coldly, “Imosen, the one thing I hate most is being deceived.”

Imosen’s face turned pale. He had indeed concealed some things, but it was for Bel’s safety. At this point, he could only brace himself and say, “My lord, I would never dare to deceive you.”

“Is that so?” Victor said lightly. “You said you and Bel were in the Great Marsh for over ten years.” As he spoke, Victor pointed at a bewildered-looking Bel and asked in a chilling voice, “Do you take me for a blind man? Does Bel look like she’s in her teens?”

According to Imosen’s story, Bel was three when they fled and had spent twelve years in the Great Marsh. She should be at least fifteen now. A fifteen-year-old girl was old enough to be married, but no matter how Victor looked at her, Bel seemed to be a little girl of only seven or eight.

“My lord, I don’t know why, but Bel just grows this slowly.”

Imosen stood up, bowing repeatedly to Victor as he explained, “Bel might have eaten too little salt when she was young. She grows exceptionally slowly and still can’t speak. She’s grown a lot taller recently, about this much.” Imosen gestured with his fingers, showing a tiny gap, his face contorting in distress. “My lord, I’m really not lying to you!”

Seeing Imosen sweating profusely with anxiety, Victor fell silent. On Earth, there were people with developmental delays, or who never developed at all. It was a type of congenital disease.

With this thought, Victor came to accept Imosen’s explanation, but there was still another suspicious point.

“You said that Bel was once captured by Ogres, and you rescued her the next day?”

“Yes, My lord.”

Victor sneered, “A whole day passed, and the Ogres didn’t eat Bel? Were they thinking she was too skinny and wanted to fatten her up first?”

This was actually the truth. After the Ogres caught Bel, the tribe members got into a massive brawl over how to divide up the little thing. In the end, the Ogre chief proposed they fatten her up before sharing her, an idea the other Ogres cheered for. As for what ‘fat’ meant, the tribe members used the Ogre chief as the standard, because he was the fattest. If Imosen hadn’t rescued Bel, she could have lived quite comfortably in the Ogre tribe.

Victor wouldn’t believe such a thing, and even Imosen was completely baffled. He smiled wryly and said, “I really don’t know why.”

Victor still felt that Imosen was hiding something, but he didn’t want to press too hard. The Wizard’s abilities were very valuable, and Bel was his weakness.

As long as he had Bel in his grasp, Victor wasn’t afraid of Imosen turning the tables.

Victor ordered the four Crouching Ox Militiamen in their full suits of plate armor, “Take Mr. Imosen and Miss Bel to rest.”

After Imosen and his daughter had left the great hall, Victor turned to Jack and said, “In three days, take Imosen to the Hill Camp discreetly.”

“I want to see if he can communicate with the Fishmen!”

Chapter 265: System Building

Thirty Swiftbirds, saddled and ready, lay quietly on the ground. Victor and his personal guard would ride these Swiftbirds back to Laketon. Their warhorses, acting as pack animals, were laden with heavier chainmail, weapons, and some valuable supplies—mainly associated crystals from the thorium mine, as well as silver ingots.

Victor planned to take these items to Laketon, have a jeweler fashion them into accessories, and then find a way to sell them. Although the Alchemical auxiliary soldiers could craft exquisite silverware, their works possessed the distinct style of the Alchemical Empire, a system unto itself that was jarringly out of place in this era. It could easily attract the attention of observant individuals, bringing Victor unnecessary trouble.

All transactions involving gold and silver required extreme caution.

An Alchemical militiaman finished tying down the last bundle of goods. The party was ready to depart. With his hand on the hilt of his sword, Victor said to Busuo, “From now on, the mountain stronghold will no longer produce ordinary refined iron equipment. I need you to develop an equipment plan for the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard squads as soon as possible. It must meet the combat and gathering needs of mountain, marsh, forest, and plains terrain. The key is to be able to resupply locally.”

“As you command, my lord.”

Before leaving, Victor had made significant adjustments to the mountain stronghold’s production tasks based on the actual situation.

The Hill Camp would become a true military equipment production base. Victor planned to build a large-scale furnace there, using low-grade iron ore and refined iron materials provided by the York family to manufacture ordinary weapons and armor to meet the army’s needs. While recruiting laborers and mining iron ore would be another huge expense, it would eliminate the need for a transport team between the Hill Camp and the mountain stronghold, freeing up at least forty Alchemical militia.

The mountain stronghold would be responsible for smelting the region’s minerals, forging special equipment, raising Swiftbirds, gathering mountain goods, and concocting various potions. At the same time, Victor also initiated the plan to pioneer the Great Marsh.

The core of this plan was, of course, trade with the Lizardmen, and the Wizard Imosen was the key. In addition, there was a great deal of preliminary work to arrange, including carving a platform on the cliff face, constructing large hoisting equipment, dispatching Alchemical militia squads deep into the Great Marsh to gather intelligence on the Lizardmen tribes, and assembling a formidable armed transport force.

Victor prepared to build a stable forward base at the foot of the cliff and create three more Alchemical Dragon-Lizards, bringing the total to five Dragon-Lizard combat squads. Each squad would be equipped with one Dragon-Lizard, two Crouching Ox militiamen, four Lithe Ape militiamen, four Alchemical Warhounds, and ten alchemical crows. The Dragon-Lizards and Warhounds were to be fitted with custom-made thorium armor, while the Alchemical militia would be outfitted with the finest Thorium equipment. The forward base would also be garrisoned with fifty militia, twenty auxiliary soldiers, and twenty Warhounds.

This plan would require reassigning at least one hundred Alchemical humans, yet the mountain stronghold only had a total of 818.

Currently, there were 1,177 Alchemical humans in existence. The Randell Fief needed to retain an elite force, each smuggling caravan required fifteen Alchemical militia, the mountain stronghold also had to maintain a considerable number to gather thorium resources, and Raven Town in the north also needed personnel. Victor truly felt that the number of Alchemical humans was far, far too small.

The Randell Fief had a large number of freemen laborers, but mobilizing them required payment and sustained a massive amount of logistical consumption. Furthermore, Victor had many secrets he could not let outsiders know. Alchemical creatures worked tirelessly without complaint and required no pay, with nearly zero supply costs, but the scale of Victor’s operations was so large that the one thousand-plus alchemical creatures seemed somewhat insufficient.

Victor would never slow the pace of development! It couldn’t be forgotten that Alchemical humans only had a fifteen-year lifespan. If he didn’t use them to their absolute limit, Victor would feel he wasn’t doing justice to their one thousand two hundred Gold Sol creation cost. For now, he could only find ways to optimize the efficiency of his Alchemical humans. For example, building large furnaces near the mineral veins to minimize transport personnel. However, constructing furnaces required more energy crystals. Until he received the second batch of Red Crystals, the mountain stronghold had no choice but to maintain its transport team of two hundred eighty handcart pushers.

Reality was so full of contradictions. Victor couldn’t help but sigh, “Besides the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard, are there no natural creatures that can serve as transport in the mountains?”

Busuo immediately replied, “The Black-haired Bighorn Sheep. Its bones are hard, and its meat is coarse and tough with a foul smell, making it difficult to eat. It has a high load-bearing capacity, able to carry five hundred pounds while walking in mountainous terrain, and it can be tamed.”

Victor was stunned for a moment, muttering, “Why didn’t you say so earlier…”

It wasn’t that oxen and horses couldn’t transport goods in the mountains, but they required a simple mountain path; otherwise, they could easily break their legs. However, building and maintaining a horse trail in the mountains was time-consuming and laborious. During the rainy season, a simple horse trail would be washed away by mountain torrents. For these reasons, the Alchemical militia still handled the transport duties for the mountain stronghold.

The Black-haired Bighorn Sheep Busuo spoke of might be extinct, but it gave Victor an idea. The Kingdom of Naville was dense with high mountains and forests, with rugged mountain paths. The people of Naville must have domesticated pack animals similar to the Black-haired Bighorn Sheep.

Bringing over Naville’s mountain pack animals would not only meet the needs of the mountain stronghold and free up more Alchemical militia, but also enhance the transport efficiency of the smuggling caravans.

At this thought, Victor’s mood improved greatly. He asked, “Busuo, what other supplies do you need here?”

Busuo said, “My lord, we’ve run out of parchment scrolls. We need more parchment scrolls.”

Victor had once ordered the Alchemical auxiliary soldiers to transcribe the technology they possessed onto parchment scrolls using Chinese characters. If the Ant-men conquered the Centaur Hills and the Alchemy Tower fell, Victor would retreat from his fief with these precious scrolls of knowledge.

Knowledge was wealth, and knowledge was the power to change one’s fate.

Even if he lost the Alchemy Tower, Victor could stage a comeback relying on these scrolls of knowledge. To this end, he had purchased three thousand two hundred parchment scrolls and given them to Busuo.

“Just give me a number,” Victor said, waving his hand magnanimously.

“Seventy thousand.”

“Alright! I’ll get you sev… seventy thousand?” Victor’s arm froze in mid-air. He exclaimed in exasperation, “How many parchment scrolls did you say you need?”

“Seventy thousand,” Busuo repeated very, very clearly.

Victor composed himself and asked in a low voice, “How could you possibly need so many parchment scrolls?”

“My lord, we used five hundred twenty-six parchment scrolls just to draw the schematics and graphics for the thorium warship. To transcribe all the content from our Will Side, seventy thousand parchment scrolls is only the first batch. We will need more later.”

Parchment scrolls, also known as parchment, were not actually paper, but sheepskin. Artisans would first de-hair the sheepskin, tan it into leather, then stretch it to its limit on a special wooden frame, shave it thin with a knife, and let it dry into sheets. Each hide could produce six parchment scrolls.

The House Sorim in the southern regions was the largest producer of parchment scrolls in Gambis. They possessed a unique technique that allowed their scrolls to resist decay for centuries, and their price was not cheap.

Twelve parchment scrolls were worth one Gold Sol. Adding transport costs and the caravan’s profit margin, the price was even higher. Victor bought his parchment scrolls from the Chapman family, where eight scrolls cost one Gold Sol. The three thousand two hundred scrolls had cost him four hundred Gold Sol.

The knowledge within the Alchemical auxiliaries’ Will Side did not involve profound theories, but it contained basic information on tens of thousands of species of plants, animals, and minerals, as well as various ore smelting techniques, alloy manufacturing processes, potion crafting methods, weapon smithing techniques, castle design K, manufacturing processes for large trebuchets and ballistae, shipbuilding, transport vehicle construction, and so on.

Now, just transcribing the design blueprints for the thorium warship required five hundred twenty-six parchment scrolls. Seventy thousand would be nowhere near enough! As for how many scrolls it would take to completely transcribe all their knowledge, Victor didn’t know and didn’t want to find out. He only knew that the price of parchment scrolls would skyrocket until he could no longer afford them!

“Busuo, do you know how to make paper?”

“My lord, I have no information regarding paper.”

“I knew it… I don’t know how to make paper either.”

Victor let out a heavy breath. The Alchemical Empire could directly load knowledge into the Will Side of Alchemical humans, and the Alchemy Tower could extract memories from alchemical creatures. These methods were even more advanced than the computer technology on Earth. The Alchemists certainly wouldn’t have used paper as a medium for their civilization. Even if the Alchemical Empire had paper, it was most likely used by Alchemists to wipe their behinds. And clearly, Alchemical humans didn’t need to be programmed with how to make toilet paper for their masters.

“Halt the knowledge transcription. We’ll solve this problem later.”

“As you command, my lord.”

Victor mounted his Swiftbird. The bird raised its head and let out a long cry, and the party headed east.

Four hours later, Victor arrived at Laketon. The mounts, standing over two meters tall, immediately caused a sensation, to the point that the crowd that had been spectating the castle chased after the Swiftbirds into the town.

That’s right, a castle.

Construction of the castle in the Randell Fief had begun in February of last year’s Season of Water. It had taken eleven months and mobilized four thousand able-bodied men. By January of this year’s Season of Autumn, the castle was finally complete.

The castle occupied twenty-four mu of land. The lowest section of the curtain wall was forty meters high, and the tallest tower reached forty-eight meters. It had a total of one hundred seven rooms, six towers, and twelve cellars. In the courtyard were two storehouses, a stable, a blacksmith’s forge, and a well. If fully stocked with supplies, the castle could support over seven hundred people in a siege for a whole year.

The castle was built of sturdy gray rock. The walls were six meters thick, their surfaces smooth and seamless. Even a wind-element Great Knight could not climb the thirty-eight-meter-high walls while under a hail of arrows and fire oil. Although this magnificent viscount’s castle was built on flat ground, one would need heavy trebuchets to conquer it. And the trebuchets on the castle were not just for show; their commanding height advantage would allow them to smash enemy trebuchets to dust.

Only castles betrayed from within fall, never castles taken by storm. This was no empty saying.

Besides its function as a military defensive structure, the castle’s political significance was extraordinary. A castle represented the ruling family’s power, status, strength, and prestige, and it had the effect of uniting the people. One could say, first the castle, then the family.

Including the mountain stronghold and the castle in Raven Town, Victor now possessed three castles. But he couldn’t deny that this one signified that Viscount Randell was the legitimate lord of this land, a fact that not even the King and the Church could change. Even though it was just an auxiliary fort.

The castle was two thousand six hundred meters from the western fence of Laketon. According to Victor’s plan, a thirty-five-meter-high city wall and two other auxiliary forts would eventually be built along this castle, expanding Laketon into a city of forty-eight square kilometers. The three auxiliary forts would guard the north, west, and south walls respectively, while the keep would be situated on the east side, by the shores of the lake.

In the future, not only would Laketon have a fortress and three auxiliary forts, but Hill Camp would also have a giant fortress built, and each village would be fortified and upgraded into a town.

With the nine thousand square kilometers of Randell Fief and the one thousand three hundred square kilometers of Raven Town, Victor planned to build two cities, nine towns, and sixteen villages, for a total of two fortresses and fourteen castles. Possessing the giant brick kiln and rock bricks, this castle was just the beginning. Victor’s vision was no longer confined to his fief and its castles; there were more important things awaiting his construction.

Regardless, this castle was of extraordinary significance to the House of Randell. Family members would often wander into the castle for a stroll whenever they had free time. Some had already taken up residence inside and refused to leave.

Inside the castle’s master bedroom, the massive bed was covered in silver ingots. Lilia was lying right on top of them, her fair, shapely legs crossed in the air as she carefully counted each associated crystal, her own eyes sparkling just as brightly.

Victor couldn’t help but say, “Don’t you find it too hard, sleeping on that?”

“Not at all.” Lilia didn’t even raise her head, simply hugging a blue crystal with a faint smile.

“These things aren’t even valuable.”

Victor plopped down, landing on the silver mattress with a slap. It really was uncomfortably hard. Lilia immediately scrambled onto Victor’s chest, her almond-shaped eyes wide as she waved the blue crystal in front of his face. “These are gems, and this is silver. How could it not be valuable?!”

Victor snatched the blue crystal from the little woman’s hand and tossed it aside. “It can’t be eaten or drunk, it can’t ward off the cold or defeat enemies. What’s it worth?”

“I don’t believe you.” Lilia, showing no reluctance to leave Victor’s embrace, rolled over to pick up two crystals. She said joyfully, “I used to dream of lying on gold, surrounded by gemstones! Even though silver is a bit worse than gold, this isn’t a dream.”

“You little miser.” Victor pinched Lilia’s cheek and said dotingly, “These all have to be made into jewelry and silverware, and even then, it will be hard to sell them for a high price.”

Lilia asked, puzzled, “Why? Aren’t jewelry and silverware always very expensive?”

“If we forge this silver into silverware for our own use, there’s no problem at all. But if we try to sell it, there will be big trouble. Even if we craft it into silver platters and candlesticks, we can only let the freemen merchants sell them secretly. Currently, in Gambis, only the trading house of Marquess Leopold, the Minister of Finance, can legally deal in gold and silverware. A fine silver platter they make could be melted into more than seventy silver coins, but it only sells for thirty Silver Sol. It’s the same with gold items.”

“These crystals are just raw stones, so they’re worth even less.” Victor grabbed a handful of crystals and let them slip through his fingers. He explained, “Only after being processed into jewelry can crystals be sold at a high price. And the price of jewelry isn’t just determined by material and craftsmanship. In fact, what truly decides the price of a piece of jewelry is the artisan’s reputation and the person who wears it.”

“Master Benjamin of the Royal Capital is the Royal Family’s personal jeweler. The jewelry he makes can sell for several thousand Gold Sol. Jewelry made by unknown artisans, even if it’s more exquisite than Master Benjamin’s work, could never sell for a high price. That’s because Benjamin is the Royal Family’s personal jeweler; his name represents the status of the jewelry. And flaunting status is where the value of jewelry truly lies.”

“Even the cutlery used by Princess Royal Roland is sought after by the children of Nobles. That’s the celebrity effect. As for these things, even made into jewelry, they can only be sold to our vassals. And how much money can a vassal spend?”

“So they’re worthless after all…”

Seeing Lilia become utterly dejected, Victor smiled and comforted her, “Don’t be so down. Who knows, maybe the jewelry you wear will sell for a sky-high price in the future?”

“Really?”

“Mmm, I promise I’ll collect Lilia’s jewelry for a sky-high price,” Victor teased, then said, “Alright. Tell me, how many people have paid to build a house so far?”

Lilia rested against her husband’s chest again and said, “In the beginning, only 235 families were willing to pay for a house. After the castle was completed, the number of families paying for a house suddenly increased to 421. We’ve collected 12,630 Gold Sol. After deducting the 10,000 Gold Sol deposit for the Church, we have a balance of 2,630 Gold Sol.”

“After that, no one else was willing to pay for a house.”

“How could that be?”

Victor frowned. The Randell Fief was offering 600 slots for building a house to establish residency, with the plan to recruit 600 freemen families, nearly 3000 registered subjects, and select stewards and soldiers from among them. Although thirty Gold Sol was a huge sum for a freeman, it wasn’t an insurmountable amount for those with ability and foresight, especially since Victor was also offering loans.

Freemen who built houses could serve as stewards and soldiers, receiving a monthly stipend. In three years, their families would certainly become official subjects and be able to rent eighty mu of land. It wouldn’t take many years for them to earn back the thirty Gold Sol.

Logically, with such generous terms, the 600 housing slots should have been snapped up. Why were there still so many vacancies? Could it be that the freemen laborers in the Randell Fief were all short-sighted peasants?

Lilia sighed and said, “The 300 steward positions have all been filled, and the 60 law-enforcement soldier positions are also full. It’s just the mercenary army that has only recruited 93 people. When the freemen heard that we are now only recruiting for the mercenary army, they were no longer willing to build houses.”

“So that’s how it is.”

Victor nodded. He finally understood why Narsen had said freemen were unreliable!

Freemen were afraid of dying!

Victor had originally thought that recruiting soldiers from among refugees would be the simplest thing in the world, but that was not the case.

The refugees of ancient times on Earth often wandered in search of survival due to famine and war, living a precarious life caught between life and death. At such times, if someone organized recruitment, an army could be raised in an instant. However, the wild resources in this world were abundant, so refugees did not starve easily. What they feared were monsters and wild beasts; in the end, it was a fear of death. Most importantly, the Church had taken on the role of organizing the refugees. They required lords to shelter the refugees and provide food and work. If a fief encountered danger, the Church would even arrange for the refugees to evacuate.

Can organized refugees still be called refugees? Can you even recruit a mercenary army from them?

The refugees had the Church to rely on. They had no sense of belonging to the fief or the kingdom, which was why the lords disliked them. It was precisely the Church that had drawn a deep chasm between the common people and the nobility, and it was also obstructing Victor’s development.

The Randell Fief was, after all, a Pioneer Fief. It was understandable that the refugees were afraid of becoming cannon fodder for the House of Randell. Before the entrance to the Great Marsh was sealed, recruiting for the mercenary army would continue to be difficult. Victor had no good solution for this.

However, the ninety-three mercenaries who did join had vision and courage. They were countless times better than those refugees who thought themselves clever but were in fact cowards. They could be trained as an elite force and as officers.

True gold is tempered by great fire. That, at least, was some consolation.

Victor asked with a smile, “Is Narsen jumping up and down in frustration?”

“Linda is about to give birth. My brother has been following Father Miller around all day; he hasn’t had time to jump in frustration yet.” Lilia smiled, then added, “Oh, right, we haven’t finished issuing all the property deeds, and we’ve run out of parchment scrolls. Dearest, could you transfer some parchment scrolls from the Hill Camp?”

Victor remained silent. He couldn’t very well tell Lilia that the more than three thousand parchment scrolls were already completely used up.

“I still have a use for those parchment scrolls. Have Alice procure some more.”

“Alright.”

Lilia nodded and picked up another crystal to play with. Victor, however, was lost in thought.

Parchment scrolls were impractical. Papermaking was imperative!

Expensive parchment scrolls were the means by which the Nobles and the Church monopolized knowledge. Cheap paper would give rise to many commoner scholars, push forward the development of civilization, and a strong human civilization would have the capability to face unforeseeable adversaries. This aligned with Victor’s needs.

However, Victor didn’t know how to make paper, and it wasn’t his primary job.

As a lord, Victor had plenty of manpower at his disposal. He could easily have others research papermaking, but that was just a surface-level problem.

The issues of inventing paper and recruiting mercenaries made Victor realize that it was time for system building!

The Leasehold Employment System, which combined land leasing with subject employment, suited the reality of the Randell Fief, but above the system, there needed to be a framework.

If the system was the roots and the trunk, then the framework was the branches and leaves. Only when the two were combined could they grow into a towering tree.

Building upon the vassalage system, a lord had a military system, an education system, a judicial system, an internal affairs system, and a trade system. Similarly, Victor needed to build these systems upon the foundation of his Leasehold Employment System. Papermaking could be incorporated into an education and research system, and the mercenary army into the military system.

Victor still needed time to consider the specific content of each system, but the general principle would not change.

Merit must be rewarded and transgression must be punished. He had to guarantee a relatively fair channel for advancement, strive to transform freemen into Supporters, train Supporters into Aides, and through permanent land leases, turn the most outstanding Aides into Victor’s Partisans.

Once this framework was perfected, the Leasehold Employment System would be able to unleash an unimaginable vitality. Inventions and creations would emerge in a continuous stream, the military would develop rapidly, and the fief would run itself. No! It should be said that the vast organization Victor was building would continue to grow stronger.

To a certain extent, this was already encroaching on the interests of the Church. Because the freemen would find their sense of belonging within the Leasehold Employment System, they would become Victor’s subjects, no longer the Church’s lambs. They might still have faith, but not necessarily be devout.

Lilia didn’t know what Victor was thinking at that moment. She picked up a red crystal, held it against her chest, and said, “Dearest, what do you think of making a pendant with this crystal?”

Victor’s gaze fell upon her. Four years had passed. Lilia was now twenty-two. Compared to her bashful eighteen-year-old self, she had gained a mature, captivating charm. She had long legs, a slender waist, fair skin, and features as lovely as a painting.

He reached out an arm to wrap around her slim waist, and just as he was about to kiss her, Lilia giggled, twisting her body like a snake to escape Victor’s demonic clutches.

“Hmm?! You’re actually using the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form to reject me?” Victor said, displeased.

Lilia leaned in and gave her husband a light peck on the lips, smiling. “Dearest, you need to conserve your strength right now.”

“You dare look down on me! When have you ever not been thoroughly subdued by me?!” Victor feigned great anger.

“Someone’s waiting for you at Silver Moon Manor,” Lilia said, pouting her red lips with a look of jealousy, yet her eyes held a mischievous glint.

“Nicole?”

“No! It’s Lady Judy.”

Chapter 266: A Storm is Brewing (Part 1)

The next afternoon, at Silver Moon Manor.

The sky was a vast sapphire, dotted with wandering white clouds. Pale yellow dandelions danced in the wind as Judy strolled across the lawn, her arm linked with Victor’s. Another gust of wind swept up her long, golden hair, but it could not disperse the blissful enchantment on her radiant face, nor the indelible sweetness lingering in her eyes.

Her form-fitting, light-blue hunting attire outlined a mature and captivating figure, while her black, high-heeled leather boots added to the radiant Viscount’s wife’s charm. Strands of her hair, just as fragrant as he remembered, brushed against Victor’s nose, stirring something deep within him.

She thoroughly enjoyed Victor’s intimate gestures, delighting in them with glee, but for now, she was perfectly content.

“Do I look good?”

Judy bit her red lip and extended one long, slender leg. The high-heeled boot made her calf flex into a graceful line. Victor praised her sincerely, “Very beautiful! Where did you get boots like these?”

“These are the high-heeled boots invented by the Young Lady of the Chapman family. All the noble ladies and socialites are now vying to imitate the style of Gillian the Great Knight.”

“Is that so?”

Victor rubbed his nose. He had seen the air of a modern professional woman in Gillian and, out of a sense of nostalgia, had mischievously prepared a pair of high-heeled boots for her. He never expected they would become a craze throughout the entire circle of noble ladies.

“With such high heels, aren’t they difficult to walk in?” Victor couldn’t help but ask, seeing Judy treading on the uneven lawn.

Judy shook her head gently. “These high-heeled boots are a remarkable invention. They correct a noblewoman’s proportions, making our figures more upright and our movements full of elegance and nobility.”

“As for the difficulty… high-heeled boots are specially designed for noblewomen who are also knights. Of course, those ordinary noblewomen would find them difficult.”

“Miss Chapman could be recorded in the annals of the Spire for this invention alone.”

Judy sighed with immense gratitude. Victor was dumbfounded. He only knew that European aristocrats had invented high heels, but he didn’t expect the footwear to be tied to one’s status here as well.

But it made sense. High-heeled shoes were not practical for long journeys. Common women were busy with labor and could never wear them to work. Noblewomen, on the other hand, had carriages for transport and spent their days pondering how to display their nobility and charm. When they wore high heels, their gait naturally became more alluring, confident, and elegant.

The backgrounds of the two worlds were different, but the nature of the aristocracy was the same. Though Judy always appeared frail, gentle, and graceful around Victor, she was, in fact, a naturally awakened female apprentice knight, capable of even killing a brown bear.

Walking in high-heeled boots didn’t affect a female knight much; in fact, it highlighted the difference between them and ordinary noblewomen. It was no wonder Judy praised the design so highly. Perhaps all sorts of high-heeled shoes would soon appear. Victor could only hope this trend wouldn’t affect the judgment of female knights. If they started applying this high-heeled design to their combat boots and died in battle because of it, that was truly not his intention.

“My dear, please don’t fight in high-heeled boots!” Victor warned her earnestly.

Judy paused for a moment, then smiled, pursing her lips. “Why would I ever fight?” With that, she offered her Lover a sweet kiss in thanks.

“Victor, I want to ask a favor of you.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“Mm.” Judy stepped out of Victor’s embrace, brushed back her tousled hair, and said with a serious expression, “We’re expanding Wildwillow City and need a large quantity of green bricks. I hope you can keep the price of the green bricks unchanged.”

Judy was as beautiful as a flower, radiant and enchanting. Yet, faced with his lover’s soft plea, Victor’s heart remained as still as water. He simply gave a noncommittal, “Oh.”

One moment they were intimate lovers, but the moment green bricks were mentioned, they became lords representing their respective families. Judy understood this as well. She explained, “Lately, caravans have been flocking to Wildwillow City, and many freemen have followed them into Bryat’s fief to make a living. According to Father Jon’s count, there are more than twenty-nine thousand freemen gathered outside Wildwillow City. The guards at the border outposts also report that more than five hundred people enter the family’s domain every day, while fewer than two hundred leave.”

“Right now, it’s not just a shortage of shops in Wildwillow City; there aren’t enough shanties for the freemen to live in. Furthermore, the large number of refugees is causing many public order problems. My advisors believe we absolutely cannot let so many people remain idle. We must put them to work, or it will severely harm our family’s interests.”

“Therefore, I plan to follow the model of the Royal Capital, Blinor City, and expand Wildwillow City’s outer district, building more shops and residences. However, I don’t intend to use traditional earth and wood construction. All the shops and shanties will be built with green bricks… Oh, and I’m also going to build a green brick outer wall in the outer district.”

“This project will require a vast amount of green bricks. So…”

Judy shook Victor’s arm gently, her voice a sweet plea. “My dear, I want all of your green bricks! But the price can’t go up, alright?”

Victor pondered for a moment before asking, “Green bricks are rather brittle. Are you sure you want to use them for a city wall?”

“I’d love to use grey stone for the walls, but we don’t have that much money. If we build a fence with Iron-oak, it will need to be replaced in fifteen years at most, and Iron-oak is even more expensive than green brick. As for the wall’s defensive capabilities…”

Judy smiled sweetly. “My dear, don’t forget that Bryat’s fief was also cleansed by the Ant-man tide. There are basically no monsters in the wild, and even if there were, they would never dare to attack Wildwillow City.”

Victor nodded. “Building an outer city with green bricks will also cost a fortune. Can the Briatte family afford it?”

“We can’t.”

Judy shook her head and sighed. “To be honest, building the green brick wall is mainly to manage the refugees and keep them from causing trouble. I’ll build the outer city according to Wildwillow City’s tax revenue.”

Victor gave Judy a long, deep look. This stunningly beautiful lover of his both surprised and delighted him.

He was surprised that the Viscount’s wife, who he thought was of a frail nature and uninterested in politics, possessed such vision and boldness.

The fertile fields irrigated by the Wildwillow River were the most valuable asset of Bryat’s fief. For a long time, farming and animal husbandry had been the pillar industries of the Briatte family. The Briatte family was no different from most noble families; they valued agriculture, disliked refugees, and entrusted trade to caravans. Yet, only a few months after coming of age, Judy had overturned the Briatte family’s traditional mindset and begun the transition from an agricultural fief to a commercial one.

Taxes, rent from shops and warehouses, transit fees for refugees, and profits from the service industry were the main sources of fiscal revenue for a commercial fief. Clearly, the Briatte family had tasted the rewards. If they wanted to increase these revenues, they had to guarantee two things: a superior commercial environment and good public order.

Expanding the outer district with green bricks would achieve both of these goals. That green bricks weren’t sturdy was only relative to military defense. As a building material, green brick shops were impressive, beautiful, durable, and fire-resistant. Although the construction cost was higher than that of earthen and wooden huts, the rent was also higher. Besides, not all refugees were penniless; the green brick houses were for those wealthy freemen merchants. As for the poor, they would all be building the outer wall, so how could they possibly cause trouble? The wages they earned would ultimately flow back into the Briatte family’s pockets.

If that were all, Victor wouldn’t have been surprised. After all, Judy had been under his tutelage for some time, and it was Victor who had taught her how to profit from the freemen. The crux of the matter was that green brick city wall.

Building a city wall with green bricks was neither practical nor cheap. Although Judy’s reasons were plausible, the outer district didn’t need a wall at all, and the Briatte family couldn’t afford it. They could only build it piece by piece.

A stable price, a huge demand, and a slow construction pace—the Briatte family’s intentions were obvious. They wanted a cut of the profits from the green brick trade.

If Victor supported Judy’s plan, Randell Fief’s green bricks would be supplied first to Wildwillow City. Any other family that wanted to buy green bricks would have to go through Wildwillow City, allowing the Briatte family to add a markup and turn a profit. Therefore, building the green brick wall was just a pretext; their real goal was to become the middleman.

Bryat’s fief had few mineral or timber resources, meaning they had no specialty product of their own to offer. Their well-connected geography alone wasn’t enough to ensure the sustainable development of a commercial fief. Judy urgently needed a specialty product to attract the caravans of various families to Wildwillow City for the long term. Victor was her man and the Briatte family’s backer, so making Randell Fief’s green bricks Wildwillow City’s specialty product was her only choice.

As a new industry, green bricks had not yet been widely accepted. Judy was betting on the market prospects of green bricks, putting up capital to help Victor promote them, and profiting in the process. There was nothing to criticize in that.

Regardless of whether Judy had come up with this strategy herself, her ability to adopt the plan and suppress any opposition was proof enough of her skill and daring.

This little woman is far from just a pretty face! Hmm, I’ve trained her well.

Victor felt a sense of pride along with his感慨.

Chapter 267: The Trend Begins (Part 2)

Bryat’s fief was blessed by a uniquely advantageous geographical location. Transforming it into a commercial fiefdom was Victor’s established strategy. Judy’s efforts in this direction were in line with Victor’s expectations; the more capable she proved to be, the more gratified Victor felt.

As for whether the Briart family, led by Judy, would spin out of his control? That was not a concern at all.

Victor never intended to control the Briart family, nor did he have the ability to do so. The delicate situation of the Briart family was the result of a political game played by the major powers. The Centaur Hills, however, were undoubtedly the backer for Judy and her son. If Judy were to betray Victor, she would lose her power and status. The Royal Family would have no reservations about propping up a new Viscount Briart to ensure the stability of the kingdom’s southern region, expanding the royal family’s influence in the process.

On the other hand, Randell Fief was a barrier against the Ant-men. For this reason alone, the Briart family had to support Victor. Their investment in green bricks and their use of them to expand the outer district of their city was a form of support. They were, of course, also profiting from it.

Victor could imagine that once the outer district of Wildwillow City was completed, green brick buildings would, like high heels, become a trend that would sweep through fiefs large and small. Before long, the entire green brick industry would enter a period of explosive growth, and Randell Fief’s production of green bricks would simply not be enough to meet the demand.

As for the development plan for the green brick industry, all the lords of the Centaur Hills had reached a consensus: the technology for the giant brick kilns would not be shared, and the green bricks would be sold at a break-even price.

The cost of green bricks consisted of three parts: fuel, labor, and transportation. Among them, the high cost of transportation was the main factor restraining the growth of the green brick industry. To make a high profit from green bricks, one would have to build the giant brick kilns directly in the buyer’s fief.

However, that was impossible. The local lords would inevitably seize the opportunity to study the construction techniques of the giant brick kilns.

Victor had long since understood that in this era, one could not monopolize profits through technology alone.

We’re all self-sufficient lords, so on what grounds do you get to monopolize all the benefits? At worst, I’ll just stop using your green bricks and see how much influence you really have!

The lords would only promote the flourishing development of the green brick industry if they saw a profit in it.

Therefore, Victor had proposed a distributor-based business model. The Centaur Hills would be responsible for producing the green bricks and selling them at a low price, as long as it could sustain the canal-digging team of several thousand people. The sales and transportation of the green bricks would be handed over to the distributors, and the profits would be distributed by them through various levels.

The hydraulic engineering projects were the true dividend of the Centaur Hills’ green brick production!

Judy’s request coincided perfectly with his distributor model. Victor was secretly delighted, but he was not prepared to agree so easily.

“My dear, I very much want to agree with you. However, Randell Fief only has one giant brick kiln, and the output of green bricks is limited. I’m afraid I can’t meet your needs. But…”

Seeing Victor leaving her in suspense, Judy rolled her eyes at him and said with a playful pout, “What are your conditions?”

“You provide eight thousand Gold Sol, and I will build two more giant brick kilns. Not only will I agree to your request, but I also guarantee that I will supply green bricks exclusively to the Briart family at half the current price!”

Judy’s fine brows furrowed slightly. “These eight thousand Gold Sol,” she said with some difficulty, “can I pay in three installments? Or perhaps I could use jewelry to cover the cost?”

“Hmm?” No matter how much he needed money, Victor couldn’t let his woman pawn her jewelry. Just as he was about to speak, Judy began to explain.

“My dear, Wildwillow City’s finances are very tight. We have to hire a large number of freemen. On top of that, the Wellington family has raised grain prices by thirty percent. Father Jon has repeatedly asked me to donate more grain or find a way to stabilize the prices.”

“That is an unreasonable demand!” Victor’s face darkened.

A lord must first ensure their grain reserves were sufficient to feed their registered populace for a year before selling any surplus. Only if this surplus grain found no buyers and was about to spoil would the lord donate it to the Church. According to custom, the Church collected the tithe and could not demand further grain donations from a lord.

Father Jon had already overstepped his bounds by doing so, but why would he make such an outrageous request?

Victor thought for a moment and asked, “You didn’t agree, did you?”

“No.” Judy shook her head, then added resentfully, “The most ridiculous part is that after I refused him, Father Jon actually suggested I plant Spiked Kidney Beans!”

Hearing this, Victor understood everything. So it was the Wellington family pulling the strings!

Only Duke Wellington had the ability to manipulate the grain prices in Bryat’s fief and, at the same time, have Bishop Saen cooperate with him. This was Duke Wellington’s way of testing Victor.

In the end, it was Victor’s prolonged lack of reaction to the Spiked Kidney Beans that had made Duke Wellington anxious.

“Send a man to tell Duke Wellington to first stabilize the grain prices and then send over forty thousand Spiked Kidney Bean plants. But I will not pay him a single Copper Sol, and the Wellington family will bear the transportation costs. If Duke Wellington lowers the grain price by another ten percent, I will accept sixty thousand Spiked Kidney Bean plants next year.”

Judy gazed at Victor’s face and said hesitantly, “My dear, have you really decided? We could endure it a little longer. Bishop Saen would never sit by and watch Duke Wellington continue to raise the grain prices. His Excellency the Bishop will also have the Spiked Kidney Beans from the south-central region transported to Bryat’s fief.”

Victor said sternly, “If you had already figured this out, why didn’t you just tell me directly?”

“Oh,” Judy cried out softly, falling into Victor’s embrace. Her face flushed crimson as she said, “I… I was afraid…”

“Afraid of what?”

Judy gently wrapped her arms around Victor’s neck and said softly, “I was afraid of being rejected by you. I was afraid I wasn’t that important to you. I was afraid I didn’t have the right to make requests of you.”

The beautiful woman in his arms was trembling slightly, and Victor couldn’t help but feel a pang of compassion.

In the eyes of the great nobles, a lover’s status was even lower than that of a personal handmaiden. They could demand anything from their lovers, while the lovers had to cautiously maintain the relationship, needing a very good reason even to pursue their own interests.

Among Victor’s women, Judy was the most insecure. Their respective backgrounds made it impossible for her to be as frank with Victor as the others were. She was afraid that one misstep would shatter their fragile relationship.

At this moment, only the most direct action could comfort his woman.

“You are my woman. As long as you do not betray me, I will never abandon you. In the future, you can tell me whatever you’re thinking directly. Don’t speak to me in that noble manner anymore. It’s exhausting!”

“Mhm.” Judy’s star-like eyes closed slightly as she leaned into her Lover’s embrace, answering softly.

After a moment of tenderness, Judy took an exquisite coin purse from her waist and handed it to Victor. “My dear, this is for you.”

Victor opened the purse and glanced inside. It contained twenty Purple Gold Coins. He teased, “Darling, didn’t you say your finances were tight?”

“These twenty thousand Gold Sol are not for you to build the giant brick kilns.” Judy paused, then added, “As for that eight thousand Gold Sol, I will have someone deliver it later.”

“Then what is this money for?” Victor weighed the purse in his hand and asked with a smile.

Judy was silent for a moment before she said, “Didn’t Grand Duke Williams give you twenty Vigor Potions? I would like to purchase ten of them from you.”

“Are you planning to cultivate a Knight? Who are they for?”

“For myself.” Judy took a deep breath and said seriously, “I’m a naturally awakened apprentice knight, and I’ve resonated with nine Elemental Nodes so far. These ten Vigor Potions will surely allow me to resonate with the remaining three Elemental Nodes and become a Knight!”

“That’s not a good idea!”

Victor shook his head and advised, “A Knight who advances by relying on Vigor Potions can never become a Great Knight! Judy, you’re a naturally awakened apprentice knight, and you are only twenty-six this year. You still have a full four years to work on the remaining Elemental Nodes. Why are you in such a hurry to take Vigor Potions?”

“I… I’m not planning to take them right away.”

Judy bit her lip and said softly, “If I can’t advance naturally within four years, with these ten Vigor Potions, I can still become a Knight. Can’t I?” As she spoke, she reached out her slender hand and gently caressed Victor’s cheek, murmuring, “Even if I can’t become a Great Knight in the future, at least I won’t get old so quickly… right?”

Her deep affection was plain to see. In that instant, Victor felt the impulse to teach Judy the Golden Toad Mystic Form, but in the end, he would not do so.

“I’ll take the eight thousand Gold Sol. The matter of the green bricks is settled.” Victor took out eight Purple Gold Coins and returned the purse to Judy. “I’ll keep the ten Vigor Potions for you. You should spend more time polishing your Aura. If, by some chance, you can’t advance naturally, who’s to say there won’t be better potions in the future?”

Judy studied Victor for a moment, then curtsied and smiled radiantly. “As you command, My lord.”

“Obedient darlings get rewarded,” Victor said with a smile, lifting Judy’s delicate chin.

Judy shot Victor a flirtatious glance, then asked with curiosity, “My dear, you’re making Duke Wellington give you one hundred thousand Spiked Kidney Bean plants for free. Will he agree to your request?”

Victor said, full of confidence, “He’ll be too busy being grateful, why would he refuse?”

Chapter 268: A Shocking Scheme (Part 1)

“My lord, please forgive my impudence. I do not wish to slander a nobleman, but Viscount Randell is simply too arrogant!”

“The terms Viscount Randell proposed are simply absurd! Not only does he demand forty thousand Spiked Kidney Bean plants from us, but he also expects us to bear all transportation costs. And in return? He wants us to stabilize grain prices!”

“My lord, this isn’t a deal. It’s a ridiculous command. Viscount Randell is ordering us around! If he isn’t a fool, then he must be insulting the Wellington family.”

The indignant Sardin finally voiced sentiments that were offensive to a nobleman, and the quill in Duke Wellington’s hand came to a halt, a drop of ink beginning to bleed across the dark yellow parchment scroll.

Duke Wellington tossed his quill aside and leaned back in his Water Lizard-skin chair, rubbing his throbbing temples. Six consecutive hours of writing had left the nearly seventy-year-old noble scholar mentally and physically exhausted. He stood up, stretched his sore arms, and walked toward the window. The steward quietly tidied up the documents on the desk and stood respectfully behind him.

This was the highest room in Vistock Keep, and it was also Duke Wellington’s favorite study. When he worked here and grew tired, he could gaze out the window and look down upon the scenery of Vistock. However, Wellington felt his strength failing him more and more; nowadays, just climbing the stairs to his study had become a painful affair. Wellington had to admit that he truly envied Knights.

Beyond Vistock’s walls lay boundless farmland. The harvest season was fast approaching. Waves of golden wheat billowed endlessly, the vast fields like a boundless golden sea, with farmsteads dotting it like small islands. The sweet fragrance of wheat seemed to drift through the window into the high study. Duke Wellington took a deep breath, but the dark green fields of Spiked Kidney Beans were a jarring sight in this golden ocean. The smile that had just begun to form on his lips immediately vanished.

The Duke had no intention of reprimanding his trade steward for speaking ill of a noble. Though arrogant and obtuse, he was, after all, defending the interests and prestige of the Wellington family.

One’s own dog is always more lovable than someone else’s child.

Duke Wellington only hoped his heir would not be burdened by their thousand-year family name and become a truly arrogant noble. The Duke returned to his desk and took the silver cup from his steward. The aroma of the coffee invigorated him. He took a small sip of the expensive beverage, closed his eyes, and let the bittersweet flavor spread across his tongue. After savoring it for a long while, the Duke finally asked his eldest son, “Dakru, what is your take on Viscount Randell’s proposal?”

Dakru Wellington tore his gaze from the map, turned to his father, and slowly shook his head. “We cannot agree to Viscount Randell’s terms!” he said in a low voice.

The trade steward, Sardin, was secretly thrilled. The Duke was wise and resourceful, but he had grown old, lost his former decisiveness, and become more benevolent and lenient. So much so that even a minor viscount dared to be bossy with the Wellington family! Fortunately, Young Master Dakru was exceptionally heroic. He would surely teach that arrogant Viscount Randell a lesson and let everyone know that the dignity of the Wellington family was not to be trifled with!

“The number of Spiked Kidney Bean plants we give Viscount Randell must be at least tripled! Only then can we agree to his terms.”

Sardin stared blankly at the exceptionally heroic Young Master Dakru, suspecting he had misheard. He then looked hopefully at his master, but felt a wave of relief when he saw the Duke slowly shake his head with a grave expression.

Young Master Dakru must have his eye on some noble lady from the Randall family; that’s why he’s trying to curry favor with them. Thankfully, Duke Wellington is wise and resourceful. How could he possibly agree to a losing deal?

“You’re too greedy! We’ll be lucky if we can double the number of Spiked Kidney Bean plants we send to Viscount Randell.”

Sardin discreetly cleaned out his ears, certain that something was wrong with his hearing. Neither the Duke nor Dakru paid any mind to the miser’s little gesture, but the steward could not tolerate such a breach of etiquette in front of his liege lord. And so, Sardin was sent out.

“Father, there are eight hundred and forty thousand mu of Spiked Kidney Bean plants in the entire south-central region. If Viscount Randell takes one hundred thousand plants, we would only get back five thousand mu of farmland. If His Excellency the Viscount accepts four hundred thousand plants, the amount of reclaimed farmland would reach twenty thousand mu.”

“With this land, the family can perform the investiture of two knights. I’ve already thought it through. Adway and Kato have served the family for eleven years; it’s the perfect opportunity to grant each of them ten thousand mu of farmland.”

Wellington looked at his high-spirited heir and frowned. “Neither the Church nor the Royal Family will tolerate a continued rise in grain prices. That would only benefit Marquess Sophia’s merchant association. So how do you propose to make Viscount Randell accept four hundred thousand Spiked Kidney Bean plants?”

Dakru nodded and said, “Currently, the Briatte family is hiring a large number of refugees to expand the outer city of Wildwillow City. As long as we prevent Spiked Kidney Beans from flowing into Bryat’s fief, Lady Judy will have no choice but to seek Viscount Randell for help if she doesn’t want to use her family’s grain reserves. His Excellency Randell’s offer to take forty thousand Spiked Kidney Bean plants already proves that he won’t sit idly by while the Briatte family is in trouble.”

“I’m worried Lady Rose will interfere with His Excellency Randell’s planting of the Spiked Kidney Bean trees. We have no way to stop him from simply burning them,” Dakru sighed with concern.

The Spiked Kidney Bean was a thorn in the Wellington family’s side. If they could have eradicated it, they would have done so long ago. Eradicating it was easy, but the consequences would be dreadful. Setting aside the pressure from the Church, without the Spiked Kidney Bean, the population of the south-central region would inevitably flow toward the central part of the kingdom—the Royal Family’s personal domain! That was why the Wellington family had always hoped someone would take it off their hands, but no one was willing to be the sucker.

Duke Wellington had finally managed to get Viscount Randell interested in the Spiked Kidney Bean, but there had been no action from him for a long time. Now, Viscount Randell had finally made his move, and he was asking to transplant forty thousand mature plants! Dakru was overjoyed. Although the cost of transplanting forty thousand plants was considerable, they would immediately get two thousand mu of arable land in return. Exchanging forty thousand Spiked Kidney Bean plants for two thousand mu of arable land was an incredibly good deal! But then, Dakru began to worry it was a scam.

Looking at his heir, who was swinging between hope and fear, the Duke sighed. “Dakru, you’re missing the point.”

“Regardless of whether Viscount Randell can become the second Sword Saint, his Bloodline is in no way inferior to that of any of the royal highnesses.”

“The York family gave Viscount Randell two female apprentice knights to serve as his personal handmaidens. Heh, what prince would arrange companions for his own pet? This is purely a political marriage!”

“Therefore, Viscount Randell is the lord of the Centaur Hills. Since he has decided to transplant the Spiked Kidney Beans, we have no need to worry about the York family’s stance.”

“The key point is, we don’t have the initiative!”

Duke Wellington stood up, walked to the window, and said with his hands behind his back, “The Centaur Hills has a lot of land and few people; it needs more freemen as hired labor. Moving our surplus population to the Centaur Hills is the best option.”

“According to our original strategy, we were to first lower grain prices to help the Centaur Hills accommodate a larger population, then raise grain prices to compel them to plant Spiked Kidney Beans. However, Master Edwin’s new agropastoral system has foiled our plans.”

The Duke pointed to a farmstead below and said, “I followed Edwin’s method and developed ten thousand mu of farmland, raising wild boars and planting ground-potatoes and wheat, adopting methods of deep plowing and careful cultivation with frequent fertilization.” He paused, then shook his head in admiration. “The results are excellent! For every one hundred and fifty pounds of wheat seed sown per mu, we project a harvest of six hundred pounds of wheat, far exceeding the previous yield of three hundred and eighty pounds per mu. The ground-potatoes yield five hundred pounds per mu, and even after drying, we get two hundred and eighty pounds, which can be stored for up to seven months!”

“I believe that by next year’s harvest season, the York family can begin storing their first batch of grain. In another three years, their grain reserves will return to pre-war levels. This means the York family won’t need our grain to accommodate refugees, and they certainly won’t plant Spiked Kidney Beans!”

Dakru said angrily, “So, Viscount Randell is deceiving us!”

Even a minor family would be angered if trifled with by a Gold Knight. What’s more, Viscount Randell wasn’t a true Gold Knight, and the Wellington family was powerful, not some minor noble house to be pushed around. The fact that Dakru didn’t start cursing was a sign of his self-restraint. But Duke Wellington just shook his head and smiled. “You don’t understand Viscount Randell’s character.”

“Right now, every lord with any power is investigating Viscount Randell’s background and personality. I am no exception,” Duke Wellington continued. “Victor Wimbledon is merely the second son of a minor family who suddenly received Lady Rose’s favor and became a lord with great power. Like any nouveau riche, Victor is eager to prove himself and inevitably acts with a certain short-sightedness. His implementation of the work point system and his refusal to become a vassal lord of the York family both confirm this. The high-yield Spiked Kidney Bean perfectly suits Victor’s appetite.”

“The most brilliant part is that this type of upstart will never admit they’re wrong, even if they know it! That’s why I encouraged Viscount Randell to plant the Spiked Kidney Bean in the first place.”

“Of course, we must admit that Victor has immense potential and is very clever. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t want to offend him either.” Duke Wellington fell silent for a moment before asking, “Dakru, why do you think Viscount Randell doesn’t want Spiked Kidney Bean seeds, but insists on transplanting the mature plants?”

Chapter 269: A Heaven-Shaking Scheme (Part 2)

Dakru’s heart skipped a beat. It was impossible that Viscount Randell didn’t know that transplanting the Spiked Kidney Bean trees would benefit the Wellington family the most. So why would he do it?

At that moment, Dakru truly felt that Viscount Randell was deep and unfathomable; he was completely unable to grasp the man’s intentions. If a lord could not see through his opponent’s scheme, the family he led would be forced into a passive position. Dakru couldn’t help but feel a sense of dejection, but Duke Wellington’s encouraging and expectant gaze made him pull himself together and carefully ponder the key points of the matter.

Duke Wellington sipped his coffee leisurely. The study fell into silence. Dakru had no clue. Just as he was about to ask for guidance, he saw his father stroking the white crystal ring on his finger. It was a treasure gifted to Duke Wellington by the Church, with a life-prolonging divine art permanently imbued within it by His Holiness the Pope himself as a reward for the Wellington family’s cultivation of the Spiked Kidney Bean.

A flash of inspiration struck Dakru, and he blurted out, “Bishop Saen!”

“Ha! Ha! Ha!” Duke Wellington let out a hearty laugh, standing up as he said, “Exactly! In two years, Archbishop Lazarus will be promoted to Cardinal Archbishop. That fellow Saen wants to take over the position of Archbishop and needs our support. Only then is he willing to cooperate with our little maneuvers and prevent Spiked Kidney Beans from flowing into Bryat’s fief. Under normal circumstances, Saen would have immediately jumped out to oppose the transplanting of the Spiked Kidney Bean trees. But for these two years, hehe, we can transplant them as we please! In the end, Saen’s attention is no longer on this diocese.”

“And at this very moment, Viscount Randell throws out a plan to transplant the Spiked Kidney Bean trees. Tell me, are we in a hurry or not? And what do you think Victor truly means by this?”

Dakru nodded. “Viscount Randell transplants the Spiked Kidney Bean, and his fief immediately gains the capacity to accommodate refugees. We move the trees, the Spiked Kidney Bean yield drops, and the Church’s ability to provide relief to refugees weakens. A portion of the refugees will leave the duchy. If we guide them slightly, they will migrate through Bryat’s fief toward Randell Fief. Compared to the benefit of reducing our refugee population, the farmland we gain is a trivial matter.”

“Indeed. Viscount Randell has completely seized the initiative. For him, planting the Spiked Kidney Beans is optional, and he can transplant as many trees as he wishes. We have no room to bargain whatsoever!” At this, Duke Wellington recalled Victor’s innocent face from a few months ago, saying, We have no plans to relocate refugees. He had the sudden urge to vomit blood.

Randell Fief needed people, and Duke Wellington wanted to reduce the excess population in his duchy. This should have been a matter for negotiation. But at the critical moment, Victor had thrown out a Spiked Kidney Bean tree transplanting plan that the Wellington family simply could not refuse.

Want to transplant the Spiked Kidney Bean trees? Want to reduce your refugee population? Fine! You bear the cost of the transplanting, you guide the refugees to Bryat’s fief, and you’ll be responsible for supplying food to Wildwillow City. The amount I take is up to me! Don’t agree? Then you’d better think carefully. An opportunity like this won’t come again!

Frustrated and helpless, Duke Wellington could only sigh in the end. “Viscount Randell can take in as many people as he wants, and we have to foot the entire bill. This young man is truly formidable!”

Dakru comforted him from the side, “Father, we cannot refuse His Excellency Randell’s terms, but it’s not entirely non-negotiable. If Viscount Randell can transplant one hundred thousand Spiked Kidney Bean trees, then he can accept even more! As long as our terms are suitable.”

Duke Wellington nodded and asked, “Then what terms are you prepared to offer?”

“Although the cost of transplanting the trees is significant, the more His Excellency Randell transplants, the more farmland we gain and the less pressure we have from our population. In the long run, it is still beneficial for us. So, we can give him a few more benefits! I plan to lower the price of grain supplied to Wildwillow City by twenty percent to encourage more refugees to go to Bryat’s fief to make a living, letting His Excellency Randell pick and choose as he pleases. Additionally, for every Spiked Kidney Bean tree His Excellency Randell successfully cultivates, we will subsidize him one Silver Sol. I estimate this expense will amount to twenty-five thousand Gold Sols.”

After hearing this, Duke Wellington shook his head repeatedly. Dakru bowed and offered his counsel, “Father, when we first cultivated the Spiked Kidney Bean, didn’t His Holiness the Pope also reward us with a divine art ring? That treasure cannot be measured in gold.”

“It’s not that I’m reluctant to part with twenty-five thousand Gold Sols,” Duke Wellington said with a wave of his hand. “Although we cannot raise wild boars on a large scale, we can promote deep plowing and careful cultivation methods. Grain prices are bound to fall in the next two years! So, lowering the price of grain won’t be enough to sway Viscount Randell. As for a monetary subsidy… that’s even more inadvisable!”

Dakru had a sudden realization. “Giving money directly to His Excellency Randell would be beneath the dignity of the Wellington family!”

“That’s only one aspect,” Duke Wellington nodded and said. “We don’t have the initiative. If you then propose a monetary transaction, what will you do when Victor jacks up the price on the spot?”

“You must remember, never initiate price negotiations with an opponent when you don’t hold any cards! That is tantamount to sticking your neck out for them to slaughter you!”

A chill ran down Dakru’s spine. Sincerely convinced, he said, “Father, I will remember your teachings!”

Wellington was very pleased with his heir’s attitude and smiled. “The Centaur Hills are dirt poor, so your idea of sending money isn’t wrong, but your method is too simple and crude. Sending money is also an art!”

“You mean?”

“Green bricks!”

“Green bricks?”

“That’s right! Green bricks.” Wellington walked to the window, pointed at Vistock’s outer city, and said, “We will purchase green bricks from Victor and use them to rebuild Vistock’s outer city!”

“This…” Dakru was shocked by his father’s bold move. It took him a long moment to say, “Father, rebuilding the outer city with green bricks will cost at least one hundred and fifty thousand Gold Sols!”

“One hundred and fifty thousand Gold Sols is just the cost of two castles,” Duke Wellington waved his hand, flaunting his wealth, and snorted. “Black City and Wildwillow City are both using green bricks to build their outer walls. Once they’re finished, wouldn’t my Vistock look like it’s in the countryside?!”

“In a few years, the nearby lords will all be purchasing green bricks in large quantities, and the price is bound to rise! If we don’t build now, when will we? Moreover, if we purchase his green bricks in bulk when Victor is at his most difficult time, we can also build a good relationship. If, by some chance, he really does become the second Sword Saint, he won’t make things too difficult for our Wellington family.”

Duke Wellington voiced his concerns, and Dakru nodded in silent agreement. They had always felt that the Spiked Kidney Bean was a trap. If they had a choice, the Wellington family would much rather bully the southern lords than the rising star that was Viscount Randell.

The future could only be left to future generations. If they couldn’t seize the present opportunity, the Spiked Kidney Bean would consume even more farmland, and the family’s future would be just as bleak.

Having made up his mind, Duke Wellington turned and ordered, “Summon Sardin.”

A short while later, Sardin entered, bowing and scraping. The moment he saw the Duke and his son, he said fawningly, “Master, I’ve figured it out. Master is brilliant! Young Master is brilliant!”

Though Sardin’s vision was shallow, he was stingy and would haggle over every penny. He was fiercely loyal to the family and a capable assistant to the trade steward, specializing in dealing with merchants. Sending him to purchase green bricks would ensure the family didn’t get a bad deal.

With this in mind, Duke Wellington tapped the table and ordered, “Sardin, take a caravan to Randell Fief at once and purchase green bricks. The more, the better.”

Sardin’s expression turned very strange. He hesitated before saying, “My lord, Viscount Randell has handed over the entire green brick business to the Briatte family to manage. We can only buy green bricks in Wildwillow City, but the Briatte family doesn’t even have enough for their own use. They aren’t selling green bricks to outsiders right now. I’m afraid it will be some time before I can buy any.”

“What?”

Sardin quickly explained, “My lord, from what I understand, Wildwillow City is expanding its outer wall and needs a large quantity of green bricks. The Briatte family didn’t have enough money, so the Viscount’s wife, Judy, sought help from Viscount Randell. As a result, Viscount Randell gave the exclusive distribution rights for the green bricks to Wildwillow City. When Wildwillow City has money, they expand the outer wall. When they’re short on cash, they sell green bricks. So, we’ll have to wait for some time…”

Dakru shook his head with a wry smile. “It seems His Excellency Randell loves beauty more than money. I heard that the young lady of the Chapman family is also his lover. A pity that Margaret is already engaged to Prince Edward… It won’t be easy for our Wellington family to find another high-ranking female knight worthy of His Excellency Randell.”

Duke Wellington ignored his son’s teasing. He walked straight to the map and studied it intently.

The market potential for green bricks was immeasurable, and many families were eyeing the design of the giant brick kiln. Duke Wellington, however, scoffed at the idea. Architectural design was a profound discipline; the larger the structure, the more complex. Without being able to inspect the internal structure of the giant brick kiln, it would be impossible to replicate, even for a master from the Spire who was well-versed in architectural design. Every farmer was a bricklayer, but without a castle architect, they could only build farmhouses, stables, and the like. Even if farmers participated in the construction of a giant brick kiln, they wouldn’t know how to build one themselves.

Randell Fief possessed a giant brick kiln designed by the York family. Victor could make a fortune just by selling dirt, so why would he hand over such a huge business to the Briatte family? No matter how beautiful Judy was, could she compare to Sylvia?

No. The lover relationships between Victor, Gillian, and Judy were, in fact, an alliance between three families against the Ant-men!

Following this line of thought, Duke Wellington’s finger traced paths across the map. He discovered that the long and narrow Bryat’s fief bordered seven other family territories. Its location was geographically convenient, with access in all directions, connecting the Centaur Hills, the south-central, and the southern lords into a single network, even radiating out to the kingdom’s southeast!

When he combined this with the fact that Victor had given the exclusive rights to the green bricks to the Briatte family, letting them earn the price difference, Duke Wellington was shaken to his core. He cried out, “He can charge whatever he wants! This is a permanent trade caravan!”

“Father, what’s wrong?” Dakru asked with concern.

Duke Wellington raised a hand to silence the others, sitting alone in deep thought as his ideas gradually became clearer.

The Centaur Hills was a Pioneer Fief, lacking people, money, and resources—lacking everything except refined iron. The major merchant associations were all preparing to take a huge bite out of them. Therefore, the York family had turned Bryat’s fief into a permanent trade caravan, effectively breaking the major merchant associations’ monopoly. Because the Briatte family maintained low taxes, resources from all sides converged on Wildwillow City. The York family could purchase all sorts of supplies at low prices and absorb refugees.

And that wasn’t all. The Briatte family was using green bricks to build their city, a move that other lords would rush to emulate. Victor could clearly make a fortune selling dirt, yet he gave the profits to the Briatte family. This was his way of supporting Bryat’s fief. Then, once the refugee laborers earned money, Victor would sell them wild boar meat and raw sugar, profiting from that. With money in the hands of the refugees, other caravans would be attracted to Wildwillow City, bringing more goods and creating more job opportunities. The Briatte family would gain more tax revenue, and the excess population would be channeled into the Centaur Hills, providing a steady stream of manpower that would, in turn, drive the construction of stream reservoirs, squeeze the living space of beasts and monsters, and ensure the continuous development of the new agropastoral system. This virtuous cycle was endless!

The most crucial part was that everyone benefited!

Bryat’s fief broke away from the southern lords’ faction to maintain a neutral position. The south-central lords were no longer hostile to them. The southern lords could buy low-priced grain from Wildwillow City, while the south-central lords could buy low-priced minerals. The southeastern lords sold high-quality timber in Wildwillow City. The refugee laborers earned wages and would inevitably give offerings to the Church, which naturally pleased the Church as well. This was all because profits were no longer being exploited by the major merchant associations. And a stable situation in the south was in line with the Auguste family’s needs! Therefore, everyone had an interest in maintaining Wildwillow City as this permanent trade caravan!

Duke Wellington realized that his two main strategies—eliminating the Spiked Kidney Bean and reducing his population—were both closely tied to Wildwillow City. Moreover, the dividends from participating in Wildwillow City’s trade were a temptation he simply couldn’t resist.

This heaven-shaking scheme encompassed politics, agriculture, population, and trade, catching the lords, refugees, and the Church all in one net. And its most brilliant aspect was that everyone was satisfied!

Duke Wellington couldn’t help but want to applaud this strategist in admiration. His first thought was Sylvia, and he even suspected that the changes in Bryat’s fief had been orchestrated by the York family. But all signs indicated that the unlucky Austin had fallen for a Dodor plot. Besides, Duke Wellington didn’t think the York family was that much more brilliant than him. Then, the image of Victor appeared in his mind.

The ingenious work point system; the invention of Purple Cane wine, coffee, Snow Sugar, and raw sugar; his steadfast defense of his fief against the Ant-man army; the unhesitating killing of Austin; Sylvia’s almost indulgent doting; handing over the profits from the green bricks to Wildwillow City; and the bold transplanting of the Spiked Kidney Bean—all of these things were tied to Victor. These were also things other nobles wouldn’t dare to imagine, let alone do.

If it really was him, then the sheer scale of this young lord’s vision and the depth of his strategy were simply unimaginable!

Duke Wellington heaved a long sigh. Dakru stepped forward and asked, “Father, what have you realized?”

“It’s a pity Margaret is already engaged to Prince Edward,” Duke Wellington said, smiling as he patted his son’s shoulder.

“From now on, the grain we ship to Wildwillow City will be discounted by twenty percent. And provide the Briatte family with an interest-free loan of one hundred thousand Gold Sols to help them build their outer wall. If they can’t pay it back, that’s fine. We’ll treat it as rent for shops in Wildwillow City. In any case, we need to lease as many shops as possible, for a term of fifty years.”

“Fifty years?!” Dakru was dumbfounded. “Father, isn’t that too risky?”

“Risky? No! This is an investment in the permanent trade caravan. Compared to His Excellency Randell’s boldness, I’m already being quite petty!”

“We must let His Excellency Randell see the Wellington family’s sincerity!”

Chapter 270: Wisdom and Advantage

The Wellington family fully demonstrated what it meant to be wealthy and powerful. Their envoy arrived in Wildwillow City with a vast sum of money and proposed extremely generous loan conditions. The goodwill and generosity of a major noble house greatly encouraged the Briatte family; they were so eager they wished they could agree to Duke Wellington’s terms immediately. Only Judy was both shocked and suspicious. She wrote a letter to Victor and had it sent overnight.

After reading Judy’s letter, Victor was speechless for a long time. He was filled with admiration for Duke Wellington’s sharp and decisive nature.

Business models that were commonplace to people from a modern world were entirely new concepts to the lords of this one. Victor had assumed it would take several years for the lords to discover that they could integrate their fiefs’ resources and complete strategic adjustments through free trade. By that time, the importance of Wildwillow City would be undeniable, and Victor could use that period to leisurely lay out his plans, seize the initiative, establish the rules of trade, introduce various commercial models, and ultimately gain the most influence. He had never imagined that Duke Wellington would realize the value of Wildwillow City so quickly and deploy a huge sum of money to position himself ahead of time.

Victor found Duke Wellington’s strategy to be very familiar.

On Earth, a developer might have the money to buy land but not to build houses. They would sell off-plan properties while simultaneously constructing the buildings. Duke Wellington had produced the capital and volunteered to act as the homebuyer; his method was just like the business model of crowdfunding pre-sold housing! The difference was, a developer would never feel indebted to their buyers—it was merely a contract, and whether it would even be honored was another matter. The Briatte family, however, felt a deep sense of gratitude toward Duke Wellington, even feeling overwhelmed by the favor. This was the influence of a great noble.

From a developer’s perspective, Victor had no desire to owe Duke Wellington anything. The man’s appetite was simply too large.

Duke Wellington’s vision was precise, and his schemes were profound; he had grasped the crux of the matter in a single stroke. If he managed to lease all the shops in Wildwillow City, the Wellington family would dominate its trade. According to the noble virtues of generosity, trustworthiness, and gratitude, the Briatte family would be obligated to be thankful for the Wellington family’s magnanimous aid and abide by their agreement to lease the shops to them for fifty years. The Wellington family would essentially acquire fifty years of operating rights in Wildwillow City at the lowest possible price. The income from simply subletting the shops would far exceed one hundred thousand Gold Sols—perhaps ten or even twenty times as much—and their influence over the market would be something money couldn’t measure.

Victor had to admit, he would have a hard time refusing Duke Wellington’s sincere offer. The reason for this lay with the green bricks—or more accurately, the water conservancy projects.

It was the rock bricks and the water projects that firmly bound the York family to the Centaur Hills, making them determined to resist the Ant-man invasion. The green brick industry, in turn, supported these water projects. Duke Wellington wouldn’t understand the secrets behind this, but his actions would spur the rapid development of the green brick industry.

With the Wellington family’s financial backing, the giant brick kilns under Victor’s control would have to operate at full capacity to meet market demand for green bricks. His earth-digging team would expand from over six hundred people to more than two thousand. Calculating an average of three hundred meters of canal dug per day, the entire one hundred and fifty-two-kilometer-long man-made channel would traverse the Randell Fief within a year. At this pace, the water conservancy projects in the Centaur Hills could be completed in fifteen years at most.

This was the benefit Duke Wellington brought to Victor. However, the booming green brick market would trigger another thorny problem.

The advent of the giant brick kiln had pushed the production cost of green bricks to its absolute minimum, but transportation costs would not decrease. As the trend of building cities with green bricks swept the Kingdom of Gambia, lords everywhere followed suit, purchasing green bricks in large quantities. No matter how low Victor set the price, lords in territories far from the Centaur Hills would still struggle to bear the high transport fees. Yet, it was unthinkable that the lords would give up on green bricks. A competitive spirit, coupled with immense market profits, would compel them to set their sights on the giant brick kiln itself.

Secrets can never be kept forever!

When the lords discovered that the giant brick kiln was tied to the construction of water projects, even the neighbors of the Centaur Hills would grow restless, despite being distributors of green bricks themselves. And once rock bricks appeared on the scene, the fervor of the entire human kingdom would be ignited. Spies from internal and external powers would flood the Centaur Hills, and the first thing they would try to obtain would be the construction technology for the giant brick kiln.

Under such circumstances, could the secret of the giant brick kiln be kept? The answer was no, it was impossible!

Victor and the York family had been exceptionally cautious when building the giant brick kilns. Each artisan was only responsible for one part of the kiln’s construction; no single person was ever allowed to work on different sections. However, if the various powers pooled their intelligence and gathered architects to study it, they would eventually be able to reconstruct the kiln’s internal structure.

Faced with the dilemma of promoting the green bricks neither too quickly nor too slowly, Victor had proposed selling them at cost and sharing profits at every level of distribution. The goal was to lull the lords into a false sense of security before finally offering the giant brick kiln technology in exchange for benefits and allies. Sylvia had praised Victor’s proposal lavishly, letting him taste her tenderness for several days.

Duke Wellington was not yet aware that his family was already on Victor’s list of potential allies. But Victor could not allow the Wellington family to completely control Wildwillow City’s commercial properties.

In truth, there was a tacit understanding between them. Duke Wellington knew full well that Victor would not agree; he was simply making a counter-move.

You know what I need. Your first move stunned me, but it also revealed what you need and what you’re doing. So, I’ll make a counter-move to let you know I’m qualified to be a player in this game! Wildwillow City must remain neutral. You can’t monopolize it, and I don’t plan to either, but I want in! Now, we can negotiate.

Victor had to admit that Duke Wellington was extending an olive branch. This was because they had no fundamental conflict of interest.

A lord’s core interest lay in their Knight resources. With Knights, a family could prosper and grow for generations; without them, the family would inevitably perish. Lords developed their lands and accumulated wealth all to retain their own Knights and attract those from other families. This was also the source of rivalries between lords. Victor even suspected that half of the Knights from the three major eastern families had fallen into Sylvia’s pocket, which was why she had decided on the Westward Migration to develop the vast Centaur Hills.

Victor had no desire for Knights; his own bloodline was an object of pursuit for other nobles. From this perspective, Victor had no irreconcilable conflicts with the vast majority of lords. Large merchant associations, however, were an exception, and that included Sophia.

In any case, Victor decided to respond to Duke Wellington’s goodwill. He wrote a reply to Judy, stating: Duke Wellington would provide a loan of one hundred and fifty thousand, of which the Briatte family would keep eighty thousand and the Randell family would take seventy thousand. In two years, Wildwillow City would repay forty thousand. In return, the Wellington family would receive no more than one-sixth of the shops on a twenty-year lease with priority for renewal, with the rent to be determined by Wildwillow City. The House of Randell would transplant one million Spiked Kidney Bean trees within two years, covering a total of fifty thousand mu, and the Centaur Hills would also accept forty thousand refugees from the south-central territories. At the same time, the Wellington family would gain exclusive rights to sell green bricks in the south-central region of the kingdom, but they must purchase the bricks in Wildwillow City. The York family guaranteed to provide the Wellington family with the construction technology for the giant brick kiln within ten years.

Victor was confident that Duke Wellington would agree to these terms. As for the Briatte family, seeing that they held the power to decide the rent, they would understand the significance of the arrangement. Besides, they lacked the capital to refuse.

Watching the messenger depart into the distance, Victor couldn’t help but marvel at the wisdom of the natives. With just a little guidance, they could deduce so much more and perfect it. This was true not only for nobles but for commoners as well.

Victor would not forget how the fat Weyrich had devised a plan for the candied fruit industry after just one smuggling trip. The most brilliant part was that it even included the concept of a chain store! Victor truly hadn’t taught the fat Weyrich that; he had never even met the man in person…

Everyone’s so smart, how am I supposed to get by!

Victor suddenly felt that his advantage was no longer so pronounced. Then again, if the natives were all fools, he would be worked to death. Intelligent subordinates had the ability to help him perfect his System Building, and they could even complete various inventions and creations on their own, freeing him from tedious affairs. Meanwhile, his noble bloodline would ensure his superior position.

At this thought, Victor’s confidence in the future was restored. But for now, there were many things he still had to attend to personally, such as Imosen and the Fishmen.

“What? You want pork, not fish! You clearly just said fish… all right, here’s your pork.”

“What? You want Purple Cane wine, not pork!!”

“You moron who got your head squashed by a bull’s backside! Do you even know what you want?!”

“You’re calling me the idiot?! You stupid fish, you can actually curse!”

Imosen was on the verge of going mad. This round-headed, round-bodied Fishman’s large head was for nothing; it was less intelligent than a rat! He truly had no idea how they could be considered an intelligent species!

“Enough!”

Victor had no interest in watching any longer. He had basically confirmed that Imosen could indeed communicate with intelligent species. A Crouching Ox Militiaman standing nearby grabbed the squawking Fishman, which was in the middle of a shouting match with the Wizard, and tossed it into a puddle.

“My lord, the Fishmen’s minds are too chaotic. Instinct overpowers their intellect. I… I truly did my best.”

Imosen looked at Victor with trepidation. He had been staying at the Hill Camp for seven days, waiting to demonstrate his Wizardry to this lord. However, the Fishman’s muddled thoughts had turned the experiment into a complete mess, and he had no idea if the lord was satisfied with his performance.

Victor smiled and offered a casual word of comfort, “Mr. Imosen, you have already proven your ability. I am very satisfied with your performance.”

The frightened and grateful Wizard finally breathed a sigh of relief, repeating, “Thank you, my lord! Thank you, my lord!”

“However, if you want my protection, you still need to prove your loyalty.”

“My lord, I swear my undying loyalty to you! If I break my promise, may my soul fall into the abyss and burn in its flames for eternity!”

Imosen knelt on one knee, swearing an oath to Victor with the utmost sincerity. But Victor replied coolly, “No oath can move me. You must prove your loyalty with your actions!”

“My lord, what do you need me to do? I will not shrink from any task!”

Imosen was secretly overjoyed. As long as he could serve his lord, it meant he was accepted. Not only would his safety be guaranteed, but he could also have a better life, and even power. Even a despised Wizard did not want to remain a savage for his entire life.

“You don’t need to know the specifics.” Victor paused, then said, “Return to the mountain stronghold immediately. Busuo will arrange everything. You just need to cooperate with him.”

“As you wish, my lord,” Imosen said with a deep, respectful bow.

Victor nodded and gave an order to Jack, “Jack, take Mr. Imosen back.”

Imosen obediently followed Jack toward the door. After taking two steps, he remembered something and turned back. “My lord, I haven’t seen Bel for several days…”

“Rest assured, Bel is very safe. She is living at my manor.”

Imosen pleaded, “My lord, can I live with Bel? I will never reveal your secrets!”

Victor felt a pang of guilt at separating a father and daughter who relied on each other, but he would not change his mind.

“You are a great father, but you are also a Wizard. What can you give Bel? To keep her tied to your side forever? Or to let her have the life of a a normal person?”

“Imosen, I promise you, no matter what you do, Bel will not be implicated. Even if I kill you, I will not harm her. If you satisfy me, I can allow you to visit Bel often. That is all.”

“I understand… I understand… This is for Bel’s own good.” Imosen shook his head and muttered dejectedly. Unwilling to give up, he asked, “My lord, could you let me stay at your manor for a few days? Even one night would be enough… I beg you.”

Victor shook his head and sighed, “Bel cannot speak or write. That is why I was willing to take her in and give her a normal life. Unless I cut out your tongue and chop off your limbs, only then could I trust you not to leak my secrets. But without a tongue, you would become worthless!”

“Complete my task, prove your loyalty, and you can see Bel often.”

Under the escort of the Alchemical militia, Imosen left the Hill Camp. Watching his desolate figure retreat, Victor’s heart was like stone. He had come to understand that misplaced compassion would only lead to more tragedy!

Victor turned and walked toward the upper camp, arriving at the Alchemy Tower a few moments later. With Reno in tow, he walked straight to the Element Extraction Altar and connected his consciousness to the Tower Spirit.

“King!”

“My lord, I am here.”

“Report on the Soul Fire and financial reserves.”

“As you command, my lord.”

King’s voice sounded in Victor’s mind, “Available Soul Fire: 695 points. Remaining funds: 75 Gold Sols.”

Victor gave a wry smile. The two Alchemical Dragon-Lizards had finally exhausted the Alchemy Tower’s reserve funds, forcing him to come over to replenish them. He dropped two crystals onto the Element Extraction Altar and said, “King, analyze the value of the White crystals and the fire element crystal.”

“The Mithra Crystals can be extracted for four hundred Gold Sols. The Red Crystal can be extracted for eight hundred Gold Sols.”

Victor frowned and asked, “Mithril represents the Fortune of the Knights, and White crystals represent the Fortune of the Church. So why is the fire element crystal so valuable? Whose Fortune does it represent?”

“I believe it is your Fortune.”

“Makes sense.”

Victor took the bag from Reno’s hand and poured all the White crystals within onto the Element Extraction Altar, commanding, “There are four hundred White crystals here. Extract them all, then create three more Alchemical Dragon-Lizards and have them infiltrate the mountain stronghold!”

“As you command, my lord!” King said as it began extracting the White crystals. “My lord, four hundred Mithra Crystals will yield one hundred and sixty thousand Gold Sols. Creating three Alchemical Dragon-Lizards will require one hundred and fifty thousand Gold Sols and thirty-six Soul Fire, and will take seventy-two hours.”

“Additionally, I must remind you, my lord, that thirty-seven Warhounds are about to return to the Alchemy Tower.”

“Damn it! And I wanted to create more Alchemical militia!” Victor gritted his teeth and asked, “How much longer?”

“One year.”

“Alright, it seems I’ll have to sacrifice Mithril. Heh, the fire element crystal really does represent my Fortune.”

Victor shrugged. Busuo was currently refining Mithril slag in a large furnace and was expected to extract an additional twenty-five grams of Mithril, all thanks to the fire element crystal.

Now that he had energy crystals, Victor even began to consider whether he should have the smuggling caravans enter the Kingdom of Sus to bring back some Mithril slag. But he had a faint feeling that consuming the Fortune of the Knights might be a mistake.

Chapter 271: All Make Their Appearance (Part 1)

The Season of Wind is a joyous time.

The lord always schedules the three most important events for the harvest season: the Season of Wind inspection, the Harvest Festival, and the Hunt.

Every year during the Season of Wind, the lord summons his Knights and retainers, brings along his family and children, and with falcons on their arms and hounds on leashes, they hunt ferocious beasts within the fief. It is a time to cultivate the courage and wisdom of the next generation, display their own martial prowess, and fully enjoy this annual recreational event.

After the lord’s hunt concludes, it is a time of celebration for the subjects.

Organized by the Lord Village Head, every able-bodied villager—man or woman, young or old—pours out of the village. The strong men take up bows and spears to hunt the more docile animals, while the women and children busy themselves gathering all sorts of nuts and wild vegetables, carrying them home by the basketful. As for the especially powerful beasts, there is no need to worry; the lord has already cleared them out. The slightly fiercer wild boars are also prey for the men. During this period, as long as they hand over a symbolic amount of game as tribute, the vast majority of the gathered harvest belongs to the subjects themselves. How could the men not put in a little effort?

Normally, the lord would make the wild resources available to his subjects during the Season of Wind to help them get through the cold Season of Water. This is a tradition that has lasted for thousands of years. It is also for this reason that the subjects keep a close eye on the wild resources around their village, guarding against wandering monsters and harboring a particular hostility toward refugees who poach or forage illegally, even calling them bandits. However, impoverished, declining lords and Pioneer Lords would not be so generous. To them, every single chestnut is precious. If they ended up with such a master, the subjects could only count themselves unlucky.

Randell Fief is a Pioneer Fief. Last year, the lord had all the nuts and game collected into the storehouse, but the situation is different this year.

The Lord Village Head publicly announced that this year, subjects’ families could keep eighty percent of their gathered harvest. Families who were building a house to establish residency could keep sixty percent, families with private plots could keep thirty percent, and even refugee worker families would get twenty percent. As a result, every family threw themselves into the gathering activities with great enthusiasm.

Randell Fief was indeed a Pioneer Fief, and the lord had not organized a hunt, but no one worried about their safety. Here, there were no beasts, no monsters, not even a wild boar in sight. Even seven or eight-year-old children could experience the joy of gathering wild food. In groups of three or five, they went about with small baskets slung over their backs, searching the woodlands for nuts and mushrooms. If they found a ground-rat’s storeroom, one dig of a shovel would send hazelnuts, chestnuts, pine nuts, hemp seeds, and many other unnamable nuts tumbling out, filling their little baskets to the brim. The plump ground-rat, of course, couldn’t escape either. Whenever they heard the children’s cheers, the women and the elderly knew the little ones had found something again. But they had no time to go help; the wealth covering the mountains and fields was simply too much to gather. Inedible acorns could be pressed for oil or used to feed pigs. The red sea buckthorn berries were sweet and sour. Many seemingly useless plants were valuable spices, and then there were the boletus mushrooms hailed as mountain delicacies, as well as all sorts of medicinal herbs. In the past, all of these things would have long been ravaged by wild boars, but now, this wealth was everywhere, easily within reach, just waiting for them to pick. The men in charge of hunting were a different sight altogether. Wild rabbits, ground lizards, and even fat badgers were not their targets. The rarely seen yellow goats and short-tailed deer filled the void left by the wild boars. These creatures were much easier to deal with than boars and were far more valuable. The men couldn’t remember the last time they had enjoyed the thrill of the hunt so much. They wanted to venture further, but the Lord Village Head forbade it.

No one dared to challenge the Lord Village Head’s authority.

Although most families could only keep twenty percent of the harvest, they were, after all, refugee workers. The lord allowing them to forage and hunt was already an extraordinary act of grace. Besides, a normal village’s hunting and gathering grounds were only three hundred square kilometers, whereas here they had a full four hundred. Going further wasn’t forbidden, but the produce in this area alone was already more than everyone could handle. Even a twenty percent share of the harvest was a delightful surprise.

Laughter and cheers drifted across the fields of Randell Fief, carrying with them praises for the Lord of Radiance and gratitude for the lord. Unconsciously, they had already begun to see themselves as the subjects of this land.

In truth, Randell Fief had no subjects yet, only vassals and refugees. While the children of refugee families reveled in the fields, the offspring of the vassal families would not engage in such tedious games.

On the north side of Laketon was a large open space paved with smooth green bricks. Twenty youths were playing a competitive game called handball. Dressed in fitted leather armor, they were split into two teams, each occupying one side, eyeing their opponents and itching to start.

“Harrien, you’re toast this time!” a tall, sturdy youth boomed.

“Hanmo, beat us first, then you can talk big!”

The youth named Harrien rolled his eyes in disdain and turned his head to the left, flashing a smug smile at the girls watching from the sidelines, as if victory were already in his grasp. Hanmo flew into a rage. He refused to lose to this arrogant fellow in front of the girls. Seizing the moment of his opponent’s distraction, he planted his feet firmly on the ground, drew his arm back taut like a great bow, and fiercely threw the leather ball.

With a whoosh, the ball flew over forty meters, heading straight for the opposing team’s side of the court. It soared high and fast. Harrien’s face fell; he could only watch helplessly as it descended toward his backcourt, where only two defenders were positioned. Meanwhile, four of the opposing forwards had already bypassed them, waiting to receive the ball.

Hanmo’s forwards sprinted toward the enemy goal. Their captain had thrown the ball using the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form, giving it astonishing power. Combined with the ball’s own weight, no one could hope to intercept it mid-air. They could only wait for it to land. With this tactic, they were already in an unbeatable position.

Just as the ball was about to fall into the hands of Hanmo’s team, a figure leaped high into the air. Like a spirit monkey, he somersaulted, caught the ball in his arms, and upon landing, performed a series of tumbles to dissipate the force carried by the ball.

“Martin, that was brilliant!”

Harrien cheered loudly. Even Hanmo shook his head in grudging admiration. The ball was sewn from cowhide and filled with black beans, making it quite heavy. Thrown with his strength, even a successful interception would have knocked the opponent to the ground, allowing his forwards to snatch the ball immediately. But this Martin fellow had used the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form to effortlessly neutralize his attack.

Although the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form was easier to learn than the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form, reaching Martin’s level of proficiency required immense hard work. The girls watching from the sidelines all clapped and cheered for Martin, and even Hanmo gave him a thumbs-up.

The game continued. The youths on the court moved back and forth, constantly executing various tactical plays, interspersed with spectacular individual displays. The girls cheered for one side, then rooted for the other, pushing the game to one climax after another. The boys played with even more vigor, especially when the prettiest girl among the spectators cheered loudly.

Elsa felt a little smug. Most of these boys and girls were the adopted sons and daughters of vassal families, as was she. Her adoptive father was a capable subordinate of My lord Narsen, and her brother was none other than Lord Monkey, the magistrate of Randell Fief. No, his name was Munk now, a name given to her brother by the lord himself. With such a background, combined with her striking looks and her talent for reading people, Elsa had quickly established her position among her female companions and become the object of the boys’ affection.

In truth, Elsa didn’t like the handball game at all. She would much rather be at Silver Moon Manor receiving instruction from My Lady Elina; her dream was to become an elegant and confident handmaiden. Unfortunately, My Lady Elina was busy entertaining distinguished guests and had no time to train them, which was why Elsa had joined her companions for this handball game.

Even though she disliked it, Elsa wouldn’t show it. She was a clever one, after all.

“Bang!”

The handball landed heavily out of bounds. A little girl immediately ran out from beside Elsa and retrieved it from the ground.

The girls swarmed over, cooing reassurances to the little girl and reaching out to pat her small cheeks.

“Bel, are you all right?”

“Bel, were you scared?”

“Bel, this ball is heavy. Give it to me.”

It almost hit me, okay? Elsa couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

The little girl’s name was Beldina. Although the name sounded noble, she was actually an orphan, and a mute at that, with very plain looks. However, everyone was fond of Bel, even though she had only been here for a few days.

Elsa clearly remembered Beldina hiding behind My Lady Elina, shyly peeking at them. Her curious, clear eyes had made Elsa instantly fond of the little girl, as if she were her own younger sister. In just one day, Beldina had become everyone’s darling. Even the fiercest hounds in Silver Moon Manor would wag their tails at her. But for some reason, My Lady Elina, who took special care of Bel, never allowed her to attend writing lessons and strictly forbade anyone from secretly teaching her. Perhaps it was because her congenital disability meant Bel could never become a noble’s handmaiden. Yet, instead of looking down on her, everyone pitied her all the more.

“Did it hit Bel? It didn’t, did it?”

The boys stopped the game and ran over too. Elsa put her hands on her hips and scolded, “It almost hit Bel! Can’t you be more careful?”

“Elsa, our bad… It’s all Harrien’s fault, fumbling a simple catch!” Hanmo said shamelessly, passing the blame to his opponent.

“Me…? You…!” Harrien pointed at his own nose, then at Hanmo’s face.

Elsa’s eyes darted. “All right, all right. Stop blaming each other. The game is over.”

“Then what do we do? Some important personages are coming today, so we can’t go to Silver Moon Manor. Our elders are all busy, and there’s no one at home,” Hanmo said.

“We can go watch the procession of the important personages. We can also take the opportunity to learn how real attendants and handmaidens conduct themselves when traveling,” Elsa said, revealing her true intentions.

Harrien hesitated. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. After all, our etiquette training isn’t complete. If we behave improperly, we’ll bring shame upon our Master.”

“Who said we’re going to greet the procession? We can hide in the crowd and watch secretly.” Elsa thought for a moment, then added, “I heard the Master’s Swiftbird light cavalry will also be acting as the honor guard for the procession. Don’t you want to see them?”

“Yes!” The Swiftbird light cavalry held an unparalleled allure for the youths, and they immediately agreed.

Chapter 272: Everyone Makes Their Appearance (Part 2)

By the time the young attendants reached the road the procession was scheduled to pass through, both sides were already packed with residents of Laketon. To commoners, noble knights represented the dignity and elegance of the human world. Many refugees had never seen a real noble knight in their entire lives. Hearing that a great noble was visiting the Randell Fief today, the townspeople had posted themselves by the roadside early on, waiting for the noble procession to arrive. Even if they couldn’t witness the great noble’s splendor with their own eyes, just seeing the family crest on the carriage and the noble honor guard would be something they could boast about to their descendants for a long time.

Amidst the crowd’s eager anticipation, a procession so long its end was out of sight slowly approached. Upright cavalrymen straddled fine steeds, holding sharp lances from which red ribbons fluttered in the wind. The scale armor on their bodies gleamed under the sunlight, so brilliant it was almost hard to look at. After the cavalry came the elite infantry, bearing shields and halberds. They wore polished chainmail and marched with powerful, clanging steps, their heads held high as they flanked the carriages. Their sharp gazes would occasionally sweep across the crowds lining the road, always eliciting gasps of cold air. Most eye-catching of all were the twenty Swiftbird light cavalrymen. Although they wore leather armor and their refined iron scimitars were hidden in their sheaths, the Swiftbirds they rode were so proud that the mere gurgling in their throats made the nearby warhorses skittish. As they passed through the crowd, the onlookers on both sides erupted in heartfelt cheers. For these were the Swiftbird light cavalry of the Randall family, the pride of Laketon. The cheers did not last long; when the Sacred Warriors, guarding a simple carriage, drew near, the townspeople knelt on the ground one after another, offering their most devout respects to the servants of the Supreme Lord.

Under these circumstances, the young attendants naturally could not remain standing. They knelt within the crowd, whispering amongst themselves.

“A wild boar sigil, that’s a magnate from the York family. Hmm, and a magnate from the Church! A tower… which family’s crest is that? Elsa, which family uses a tower for its crest?”

“Idiot, that’s the symbol of the Silver Spire!” Elsa chided in a low voice, but her eyes were fixed on a red copper carriage engraved with a rose pattern. To be precise, she was carefully observing the noble handmaidens surrounding the carriage.

The elegant and serene demeanor of the handmaidens filled Elsa with envy. Only after the carriage had passed far into the distance did she reluctantly pull her gaze away.

“Bel, I will definitely become the most outstanding noble’s handmaiden! Bel… huh, where’s Bel? Bel! Has anyone seen Bel?”

“She was just here… Bel!”

“Bel’s gone!”

In Laketon.

Bel ran about the empty, deserted streets like a headless fly. All she wanted now was to find a place to hide.

Just a moment ago, when the red copper carriage engraved with the rose pattern appeared, a voice had rung out in her mind: Remember the aura in the carriage. Avoid her, hide from her, do not appear before her, do not confront her!

Bel was confused. She hadn’t sensed any danger, but the voice reverberated incessantly in her mind. Bel didn’t respond; she wanted to get a look at the great beast pulling the carriage. The voice in her head gradually fell silent, no longer urging her on. Then, an indescribable fear rose from the bottom of her heart. Bel was afraid. She wasn’t afraid of the aura in the carriage, but of fear itself, pure and simple. And so, like a panicked little animal, she took to her heels and ran. Bel didn’t know why she was running; she fled on instinct, trying to shake off the terror within her.

The residents of Laketon had all gone to watch the noble procession, leaving the town empty and devoid of people, every door shut tight. A little girl sprinted through the town. The occasional passerby who caught sight of her had no time to stop her before she vanished into an alley. The person could only shake their head and continue on their way.

Before she knew it, Bel had run all the way to the Laketon town square, where she saw a beautiful building with its doors wide open. Without a second thought, she plunged inside.

The building’s great hall was very spacious, furnished with rows of chairs. Bel found a corner and squatted down, and the feeling of fear gradually receded. Just then, a series of footsteps echoed in the hall. Bel poked her head out curiously and saw a stooped figure standing right in front of her.

It was an old man with a face full of wrinkles. He wore a strangely styled short robe, but he appeared kind and amiable.

The old man asked, “Beldina, don’t be afraid. You are safe here.”

Bel nodded, then looked at the old man in confusion. “Huh, how do you know my name? Who are you?”

“Yes, I know your name is Beldina, and I also know you are fifteen years old. My name is Miller,” the old man said with a smile.

Bel was overjoyed. This was the first time she had met someone who could have a conversation with her. “Mil…ler, I’m a mute. How can you hear my voice?”

“Patience. Come with me.” Miller extended a hand to Bel.

Bel hesitated for a moment, but Miller’s peaceful and warm aura put her at ease, so she took that old, rough hand. Miller led Bel toward a prayer room behind the great hall.

Closing the door to the prayer room, Miller turned to Bel and said, “Child, you are not a mute. It’s just that someone is preventing you from speaking.”

“Are you talking about those tutors of mine?” Bel asked, blinking her large eyes.

“Tutors? Heh. They suppress your growth, direct your actions, control your fear… and they have the nerve to call themselves tutors?” Miller shook his head with a laugh and asked, “Bel, do you want to speak?”

Bel nibbled her finger and nodded her little head several times. She only stopped when Miller stroked her head, but then a wave of drowsiness washed over her, and she drifted off to sleep in a haze.

An incalculable number of platinum-gold runes manifested in the void, transforming the prayer room into a radiant kingdom. The runes swirled in a profound pattern, gradually forming four platinum-gold chains that wrapped around Bel’s small body. With a sudden jerk, the phantom of a young girl in battle armor was pulled out.

The phantom girl slowly opened her eyes. Her peerless, flawless face displayed a divine majesty and indifference. A tyrannical mental force stabbed viciously toward Miller, leaving a ripple in the air that was visible to the naked eye.

The Miller of this moment seemed decades younger. His wrinkles had vanished, his body was tall and robust, and his gaze was equally majestic yet defiant, equally indifferent yet filled with loathing. A platinum-gold radiance surrounded him. The mental pierce, powerful enough to affect reality, slammed into it but could not move Miller in the slightest.

The phantom girl finally showed an expression of anger. Her pupils turned pitch-black, and runes of various colors materialized by her side. As the runes spun, the girl transformed, at one moment an exquisitely beautiful elven maiden, the next a beautifully built barbarian girl, then back to her human form. She seized one of the platinum-gold chains made of runes. The runes began to disintegrate, and the chain looked as if it were about to snap.

Miller sighed silently. The platinum-gold brilliance converged on him like a torrent of water, then light seeped out from within his body. Immeasurable light submerged Miller, and three pairs of angel wings unfurled from his back. The Radiant Angel had descended upon the mortal world.

The Radiant Angel held a Sword of Light and thrust it straight toward the phantom girl’s brow.

“In the name of my Lord, be banished!”

The phantom girl’s cherry lips parted in a silent roar as the runes by her side dissolved into points of light and vanished into the void. The runic chain became a speck of light that merged into her forehead, and the Sword of Light gradually dissipated. The girl’s eyes once again became innocent, pure, and full of life. She saw Bel sleeping on the floor and her expression immediately turned to one of shock. She lunged forward and vanished into Bel’s body.

The prayer room returned to its former tranquility, as if nothing had happened. Bel opened her eyes, looked around in confusion, and climbed up from the floor, rubbing her eyes.

“Bel, you’re awake.”

“Miller, I just had a dream. I think I saw myself sleeping on the floor, and then I woke up.” Bel clapped her small hands, and as she spoke, she covered her mouth and jumped up in delight.

“Miller, I can speak! I can speak! Miller? You seem to have gotten older…”

Miller’s hair was completely white, his eyelids drooped, and the bags under his eyes were deep. He looked more than ten years older than before, but his gaze was as peaceful as ever.

“I am but a mortal, after all. I only have another twenty or thirty years to live,” Miller said with a shake of his head and a smile.

The innocent Bel quickly put the matter of Miller’s sudden aging out of her mind. She asked gleefully, “Did you cure me? Are you the Father that my father always talks about?”

Miller stroked Bel’s little head and asked with a smile, “If I were a Father, would you be afraid? Little Wizard?”

Bel nodded, then shook her head with great force. Her father had told her that Fathers would burn them both to death, but this old man wasn’t fierce at all. In fact, she felt very comfortable around him.

“Miller, are my father and I evil Devils?” Bel asked, both curious and timid.

Miller replied very seriously, “Bel is a good child, not evil at all! And Imosen is not an evil Devil. He is a great father, far greater than I! If only I had his courage…” At this, Miller’s voice choked with emotion, and his eyes grew sorrowful.

“Miller, are you missing your child?”

Looking into Bel’s pure, innocent eyes, a strange emotion welled up inside Miller: paternal love. He sighed and said, “Yes, I am missing my child. If he were still alive, he would be a fine young man of twenty by now…”

“Alright.” Miller wiped the tear from the corner of his eye and said, “Bel, you can speak now. Those voices can no longer trouble you. You are free!”

Bel held her head and thought hard for a moment. “Those tutors often spoke to me. I think they told me to do many things in the future. But I can’t remember.”

“You don’t need to listen to Them. You just need to be yourself.”

“What does it mean to be myself?” Bel asked, confused.

Miller thought for a moment and said, “Hmm, it means doing what you like to do.”

Bel nodded, not quite understanding, but she was happy again. She had made up her mind: she wanted to be the most outstanding noble’s handmaiden, just like her friends.

Bel suddenly thought of something very important and hurriedly asked, “Can I grow taller now?”

“Uh… you can, but it will be a bit slow.” Miller scratched his white hair and said through gritted teeth, “You can’t tell anyone you’re fifteen. Just say you’re seven!”

“Good children don’t lie.”

“This… lying is bad. But this…” Beads of sweat formed on Miller’s forehead. He felt that explaining the subtleties of lying to Bel was more exhausting than conjuring an angel. He decided to scare her a little instead. “If you tell people you’re fifteen, they won’t be friends with you!”

“Then I won’t say it.” Bel was indeed frightened. She had only just made so many good friends.

“Miller, when can I see my father?” Bel had started seeing Miller as an all-knowing person.

“What did the lord tell you?”

“Master said Father is working for him, and when he has time, he’ll come see me.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about.”

“Miller, can you ask Master to teach me how to write?”

Miller revealed a cunning smile. “Now that you can speak, Victor will certainly allow you to learn to write. His magnanimity is far from ordinary. He can certainly accommodate a little girl.”

In a certain mysterious space, a terrifying mental storm was raging. Its power was tens of thousands of times stronger than the mental pierce in the prayer room, so much so that it broke through the spatial barrier, roaring as it rushed toward the slowly turning Elemental Sea. However, the mental storm, powerful enough to topple mountains, failed to stir even a single ripple upon the Elemental Sea.

“Great Donar, please calm your wrath. The sanctuary of the Progenitor Raegzo is already in tatters, yet your anger cannot shake Taelon in the slightest!”

“Solaris! Have you come to mock my powerlessness, or to prove that your power can rival the Creation Giant Ape!”

The ancient will named Solaris fell silent for a moment, then spoke again: “Although the Creation Giant Ape was the Progenitor’s first child, Its power has long since surpassed any existence. Even with Its will dormant, the prime material world is not something you or I can shake.”

“What I mean to say is, expending your power will only damage your origin.”

The mental storm gradually subsided. Donar spoke slowly, “Great Solaris, you are correct. However, that primordial being’s power actually severed our connection with Beldina. Could he be a chosen of Midaus?”

“The chosen? Hmph, merely a resonator,” Solaris said. “The Soul Fire of Midaus can no longer move Its main will; how could It possibly select a chosen one? That primordial being is just a Law resonator. He saw many secrets from Midaus and stole Its power. Nothing more.”

“That primordial being changed the course of fate. The Son of Taelon is still active in the material world. No matter how powerful Beldina becomes, she will be killed by him! Great Solaris, do you have any countermeasures?” Donar asked.

“It is the Daughter of Taelon, not the Son of Taelon,” Solaris corrected.

“What difference does it make?”

“None. She can provoke Taelon’s wrath. Even if our old rivals crawl out of the Blood Pool of the Abyss, they would not dare to face her in the prime material world,” Solaris said. “I am reminding you that she is merely a mortal. She has a gender, a lifespan, and all the limitations of a mortal. Our king, Wotan, has blessed Beldina with True Luck. She is the favored child of this era. By the time she takes control of the Alchemical Empire’s legacy, the Daughter of Taelon will have long since died of old age.”

“Great Donar, you need not worry about this small eddy in the river of fate. The Great Art of Destiny that Metis cast at the cost of her own fall will naturally correct fate’s course. The Barbarians of the prime world will surely take you as their master, and their faith will raise up your divine throne. At the same time, I must also remind you to abide by our agreement.”

“Great Solaris, as soon as I reascend to my divine throne, my Barbarian children will surely ally with the humans and drive our old rivals back into the Abyss, letting the great power of Taelon shatter both them and their Blood Pool!”

“I should hope so.”

Chapter 273: Drill (Part 1)

The mountain range on the western side of the Centaur Hills stretched for thousands of kilometers. It was composed of rolling hills of varying sizes, the tallest several hundred meters high, the shortest a few dozen. They overlapped layer upon layer, forming natural barriers, like a maze. The Season of Wind, the most colorful time of the year, set the maple forests ablaze with leaves like fire, dyed the Hemlock trees a brilliant gold, while the sea buckthorn covering the mountains and plains retained its deep, verdant green. These patches of color reflected one another, tinting the layered forests in a magnificent, multicolored display.

Bishop Pello stood upon a hill, yet he was in no mood to appreciate the intoxicatingly beautiful scenery.

Below this short hill was the pass connecting the Centaur Hills to the Great Marsh. It was through here that forty thousand Ant-men had once poured into the Centaur Hills, devastating the southern territories of the Kingdom of Gambia and even affecting the south-central region. The invasion had resulted in several thousand soldier casualties and over a hundred thousand disaster victims among the populace.

At this moment, more than five thousand able-bodied men were spread across the 1.2-kilometer-long pass, digging earth, hauling mud, moving stones, and building a wall. Although the wall now formed a continuous line, it was only a little over six meters high and could not serve any real defensive purpose.

Bishop Pello shook his head repeatedly, secretly furious, yet helpless.

Two years had passed. The northern and central passes of the Centaur Hills had been sealed. Although the fortifications were still far from complete, the thirty-five-meter-high walls were sufficient to repel an Ant-man offensive. Only the wall at the southern pass remained unfinished.

The York family had transferred ten thousand able-bodied men to the south, but only three thousand were building the wall. The other six thousand-plus men were busy digging an artificial lake and constructing a six-kilometer-long canal. They had even helped Viscount Randell build two stream reservoirs.

This unreasonable allocation of manpower had led to slow progress on the fortifications. If they had concentrated their labor on the defenses first, the wall would be at least twenty meters high by now, and the pass could be completely sealed within another four months.

Bishop Pello was well-aware of the York family’s stream reservoirs and new agropastoral system, and he even admired the achievements of the new system. However, no matter how well production and construction went, without the guarantee of military defense, it was all just a castle made of sand. If the Ant-man army were to suddenly appear at their gates, all this construction would be for naught. When that time came, the lords could hide with their families in their sturdy castles, but most commoners would be left to flee and become displaced.

Bishop Pello had repeatedly demanded the York family take this issue seriously, but they simply ignored him.

In truth, Pello knew the reason why. Even if the Ant-man army broke through the southern pass, the first to suffer would be the southern and south-central lords of Gambis. In the final analysis, the southern Centaur Hills had no refined iron resources; the central and northern territories were the York family’s core regions.

Over a month ago, the York family had smugly invited Bishop Pello to attend the completion ceremony for the artificial lake. After reading the York family’s invitation, Pello had been fuming, but he could not refuse to give Sylvia face. However, he insisted on first inspecting the progress of the fortifications to express the Church’s strong dissatisfaction.

“Most people believe the Ant-men suffered a major blow and will need at least ten years to organize another large-scale attack. But who can guarantee that will be the case!”

Pello pointed at the bustling able-bodied men below and asked, “If the Ant-man army attacks again, this low wall will surely not hold them back! What will the people below do then?”

Sylvia had a faint smile on her lips. Her brilliant golden hair was coiffed in a noblewoman’s updo, revealing a graceful, fair neck. Her gaze was as gentle as rippling water. She stood there, poised and elegant, saying nothing, yet perfectly embodying the gentle tranquility and moving grace of a noble lady.

Smiling without speaking was also a statement.

The Ant-man tide had swept through the Centaur Hills, and the York family had suffered immense losses. Five castles were damaged, farms and ranches were all but destroyed, the Fanged Legion was crippled, more than thirteen hundred Elite Soldiers were killed in action, and over two thousand more were severely wounded. They had also lost three Knights and more than twenty apprentice knights. It could be said that their strength was severely weakened.

To build the fortifications, the York family had already used every ounce of their strength. They had over fifty thousand hired laborers, with room and board covered, each paid three Gold Sols a year. In two years, the wages paid by the York family amounted to three hundred thousand Gold Sols, and the cost of logistics and supplies was another four hundred thousand. Adding the investments in production, reconstruction, and army training, the York family’s total expenditure exceeded one point two million Gold Sols.

The York family’s wealth, accumulated over a thousand years, had been completely exhausted, and they were now five hundred thousand in external debt. Yet, this was not the end.

A wall could not replace a fortress. Building three giant fortresses was no small project. Even if constructed separately, it would require thirty thousand hired workers, take nine years, and cost at least two hundred thousand Gold Sols annually. If the York family didn’t focus on production and construction to achieve self-sufficiency as soon as possible, they would be utterly trapped in a mire of debt, with little hope of recovery.

Bishop Pello was displeased with the York family’s disregard for the bigger picture, and Sylvia was equally displeased with the Church.

Faced with the Ant-man threat, the Gambis Royal Family had shown its sincerity. They had subsidized the York family with one hundred thousand Gold Sols, waived the tribute from the Centaur Hills for twenty years, and covered the cost of the stone for the fortresses. One had to understand that quarrying the stone and transporting it thousands of kilometers to the Centaur Hills was an expense of at least one million Gold Sols.

What had the Church done?

They had sent over some supplies in a half-hearted gesture, worth no more than sixty thousand Gold Sols in total. Waiving the tithe for three years was an even bigger joke—what output did the Centaur Hills have in the first three years? Then look at the Church’s aid to the Sasan Empire. Sixty thousand Sacred Warriors were helping the Sassans develop the Northern Wildlands, they had provided the Sasan Empire with a two-million-Gold-Sol interest-free loan, and the material Aid they sent was countless, almost enough to re-equip the entire Sasan army.

Compared to that, the Centaur Hills was receiving the treatment of an illegitimate child!

Consider the bigger picture? First, help me pay off my five hundred thousand Gold Sol debt, and then we’ll talk about the bigger picture!

In fact, it was an open secret that the Church, with its thousands of years of accumulated wealth, was not unable to provide more aid. It was just that the Spire Faction was in steady retreat, and the Paladin Faction had gained the upper hand. They wanted to use this method to drain the vitality of Gambis.

Sylvia couldn’t be bothered with all that. In her eyes, the York family was the bigger picture!

Sylvia could afford to ignore Pello, but Nicole, as the lord of this territory, had to consider the Bishop’s dignity. After all, it was with the priests’ comfort and medical aid that these able-bodied men were willing to work with peace of mind.

Nicole explained, “Your Excellency, the southern pass is the shortest one, only 1800 meters long. Next year, we will mobilize another twenty thousand able-bodied men, bringing the number of workers to thirty thousand. In six months at most, the wall will be complete.” After a pause, she added confidently, “Moreover, we have twenty apprentice knights and five hundred experienced veterans here. They can quickly organize ten thousand able-bodied men and hold off the Ant-man army for three months.”

“With a three-month buffer, our York family can mobilize more forces to rush repairs on the wall and resist the Ant-men. The southern lords will also dispatch their armies to assist us. You need not worry about the safety of the people.”

The Ant-men were fearless and numerous; even a Gold Knight was in danger of falling if caught in an Ant-man tide. Against such an enemy, the role of a Knight was limited. Yet, to think that ten thousand militia could hold off the Ant-man army for three months with just a six-meter-high wall was wishful thinking. Bishop Pello, however, did not show any scorn. He mused, “Your Excellency Phoenix, I have read Father Uri’s report. He had the highest praise for your flame defense tactic, believing it could easily annihilate a hundred thousand Ant-men?”

“Of course!” Nicole clung tightly to Victor’s arm and said proudly, “This is the defensive tactic designed by Vic— I mean, by Viscount Randell!”

“Oh? What kind of defensive tactic has His Excellency Randell designed? One that can annihilate a hundred thousand Ant-men?” an old noble dressed in a scholar’s long robe asked with great interest.

Tacitus, a Master Scholar of the Silver Spire, was proficient in architecture, forging, and history. He was a good friend of Master Edwin, and he was the one Nicole had commissioned to forge her Adamantine armor. This time, Edwin had specially invited Tacitus to represent the Silver Spire at the reservoir completion ceremony, and also to have him witness an extraordinary achievement of the York family, one worthy of being recorded in the Spire’s annals.

All eyes converged on Victor, and he felt slightly awkward. He was in a very peculiar position. Originally, Sylvia was the center of the group, but she had insisted that Victor stand by her side. Then, Nicole, completely ignoring Sylvia’s attitude, had also latched tightly onto his other arm. As a result, with Sylvia on his left and Nicole on his right, the situation of having a woman on each arm made him the focus of everyone’s attention. Victor had never liked being noticed, and the looks of envy, jealousy, and hate thrown his way from time to time by a dozen or so young Spire Scholars made him extremely uncomfortable.

So what if I have a woman on each arm? What are you going to do about it?

With a sudden resolve, Victor took hold of Sylvia’s slender hand and said coolly, “Annihilating a hundred thousand Ant-men is a bit of an exaggeration, but holding them off for three months is still achievable.”

Sylvia beamed at Victor, letting him hold her hand. The York family’s Knights all wore expressions that suggested this was perfectly normal. The gazes of the young scholars shifted from jealousy to admiration. Only Nicole pouted in dissatisfaction.

Tacitus’s eyes lit up, and he pressed, “Oh? Your Excellency Randell, could you introduce it to us?”

Sylvia said with a smile, “Let’s run a live drill. I’m also very curious to see the actual effect of the flame defense tactic.”

Chapter 274: Drill (Part 2)

The group ascended the city wall. Once they were in position, Nicole nodded to the Guard Captain beside her. The veteran, a man past forty, blew the horn in his hand. At the sound of the horn, soldiers began to beat the war drums. To the urgent rhythm, the able-bodied hired hands set down their work and left the wall in an orderly fashion, led by their foremen. From the barracks behind, hundreds of soldiers and thousands of able-bodied men surged forth. Some carried bows and arrows, while others pushed small carts laden with supplies, quickly ascending the wall.

In short order, more than two thousand archers were in position. They stood in groups of three, evenly distributed along the wall, with braziers lit beside them. Forty catapults also stood ready to fire.

These able-bodied militiamen seemed a little clumsy, but on the whole, they were still orderly. They were not seasoned warriors, so to perform this well was a testament to their excellent training.

Bishop Pello nodded to himself. Father Uri’s report had not exaggerated; the York family’s organizational skills were truly extraordinary.

“What about the others?” Tacitus noticed that many of the able-bodied men had entered the barracks but had not come out to participate in the drill.

“Three thousand on defense, three thousand in reserve, and three thousand resting, rotating in shifts. This is the only way to hold out for three months.” After speaking, Bishop Pello turned to Victor and asked, “Viscount Randell, is that correct?”

Victor nodded. “Your Excellency, you are correct.”

The scholar, Master Tacitus, inspected the ammunition on the catapults and nodded. “Firebombs made from cow dung, dry grass, and fire oil. From this high ground, the small catapults can completely cover the area from four hundred to twelve hundred meters out, while two thousand fire archers can shoot down any Ant-men within two hundred fifty meters.” Then, he voiced his doubt. “But the able-bodied archers are defending in shifts. Even if their stamina holds up, these fire arrows and firebombs will eventually run out. The bows and catapults will also get damaged. How could they possibly hold out for three months?”

“What… what is that?!”

As the drumbeat changed, two hundred able-bodied militiamen emerged in single file from a gap on the eastern side of the wall, pushing a hundred small carts. On the carts were man-high round bales of dry grass. Working in pairs, they spread out evenly in front of the wall.

Nicole turned to Sylvia and asked, “My Lady, shall we begin?”

“You decide.”

Nicole nodded and shouted, “Begin the flame defense drill!”

The call of the horn soared high into the clouds, and the drums thundered in unison, creating a-blood stirring rhythm. The catapults fired a volley, and forty burning firebombs, trailing thick smoke, streaked across the sky like meteors, whistling as they flew over a thousand meters out. Below the wall, the militia ignited the bales on their carts. The handlers lifted the handles of the carts, and the bales rolled down the steep slope, becoming massive, blazing fireballs midway down. The orange-red fireballs continued to roll until they came to a stop eight hundred meters away. The men outside the wall did not linger to watch; they retreated along the wall through a gap on the western side, while another team pushing grass bales took their place. Ignite, push, the fireballs rolled, and then they too retreated.

After four rounds, a wall of raging fire, formed by hundreds of fireballs, burned eight hundred meters below the wall, cutting off the entrance to the slope. The dry grass scattered on the slope was also burning, turning the entire incline into a sea of flames. The fire painted the sky red, sending up plumes of thick smoke and a wave of searing heat. Standing on the wall, the scholars could even see the air shimmering and distorting from the high temperature.

How could the Ant-men possibly attack through such a sea of flames?

The scholars and the Bishop were dumbfounded, speechless for a long time. Suddenly, Tacitus cried out, “That’s not right! Why is it still burning?”

Half an hour had passed. While only scattered flames remained on the slope itself, that wall of fire was still burning stubbornly. Edwen laughed heartily and said, “My old friend, those are chevaux de frise!”

“Chevaux de frise?”

“Hehe, we use hemp ropes to bind dry grass, wheat straw, dried cow dung, and withered branches into a ball, then douse it in fire oil to create a highly flammable bale. But at the core of each large bale is a cheval de frise, riveted together from timber. Once the less-durable parts of the bale burn away, the cheval de frise inside becomes a flaming barricade. Without relying on slow-burning timber, how could we possibly hold out for three months?” Edwen said, his face alight with excitement.

“What a genius concept… Who came up with this method?” Tacitus murmured.

Edwen clapped Victor warmly on the shoulder and said to his old friend, “Victor Randell, Viscount. See? I didn’t lie to you, did I?”

Tacitus nodded and said with sincerity, “Viscount Randell, Edwen often speaks of you in my presence, saying you are a true genius. I now wholeheartedly agree with his assessment!”

Victor bowed to Master Tacitus and was about to offer a few humble words when Bishop Pello asked from the side, “Viscount Randell, your methods don’t end here, do they?”

Victor nodded. “The rest is just a matter of course.” As he spoke, another contingent of able-bodied men came around from the eastern side of the wall. This time, they weren’t pushing carts but were dragging heavy rolling logs, each one wrapped in a layer of dry grass. The men lit the grass, released the ropes, and the burning logs thundered down the slope with terrifying momentum. Most of the logs were stopped by the chevaux de frise, becoming fuel for the wall of fire. A few got stuck midway down the slope, forming scattered flaming barriers. The entire slope was once again transformed into an ocean of fire.

Bishop Pello had long since received a detailed report from the resident priest in the barony, but witnessing such a spectacular scene with his own eyes still left him deeply shaken. He finally understood the feelings Father Uri had described in his report.

This power already surpassed the might of a Knight or a clergyman! It was an unrivaled power! And it was a power created by mortals!

Bishop Pello imagined the scene of the Ant-man army attacking. The catapults on the wall would strike first, breaking the Ant-man tide. The grass bales would turn the slope into a sea of fire, forming a flaming barricade. Ant-men that bypassed the barricade would be met with heavy rolling logs. The logs and the chevaux de frise could burn for a very long time, and the wall of fire they formed was an impassable chasm for the Ant-men. The catapults would ensure the Ant-men couldn’t extinguish the fire wall, while any Ant-man chiefs who broke through would face a volley of several thousand fire arrows. Even if the rolling logs got stuck midway, the wall of fire would simply be closer. As long as the supply of timber was endless, they could hold out not just for three months, but for half a year!

Staring at the four-hundred-meter slope paved with green bricks, Pello’s expression was complex.

Father Uri’s report stated: For the flame defense tactic, there is a minor drill once a month and major drills are held irregularly. The sounds of drums and horns represent different commands. All actions must be executed with precision and discipline, with each person performing their duty, neither hurried nor slow, advancing and retreating in an orderly manner. The opinions of the hired laborers must also be fully considered, and all details must be taken into account.

Once the beacon fires were lit, the barony and Randell Fief could assemble thirteen thousand militia within half a day. The York family would send one thousand elite soldiers as support within ten days, with a main force of three thousand arriving in twenty days. Reinforcements from Chapman territory and Bryat’s fief would arrive within twenty days. The allocation of supplies and personnel was orderly and methodical. This kind of major drill had already been conducted three times, each one more successful than the last!

And all of this was planned by Victor Randell, the Viscount!

A twenty-one-year-old nobleman had designed such a meticulous military operation. His defensive strategy had shattered the norms of warfare. Logistics, training, coordination—every part was interlinked, flawless. He had turned a group of common folk and a low wall into the Ant-men’s nightmare!

Bishop Pello couldn’t believe it, yet he had to!

Perhaps this is what a genius is…

Of course, Victor was no genius. He had learned all this from movies and television. In this other world, there were few precedents for large-scale army battles. Even the highly intelligent Centaurs and Goblins would not fight a war of attrition. Only a flammable and fearless monster like the Ant-man could be countered by such a simple tactic.

The Tower Spirit King had determined that the Ant-men’s life cycle was no less than ten years and no more than twenty. The next Ant-man tide was most likely to occur in ten years. Victor didn’t want to entrust his life to probability, so he had made multiple preparations, including hiding in the mountain stronghold, fleeing far away, and assassinating the Ant-man chief. But the most important was a frontal defense. Thus, whenever he had free time, he would discuss it with Nicole, and they finally decided on the flame defense tactic.

The defense tactic was part of a large-scale military operation, and the key to its successful drill turned out to be the clergy of the Church!

Victor had wasted no small amount of breath convincing the two priests. He repeatedly assured them that there would be few civilian casualties, that at worst it would only be a phased evacuation. Father Uri and Miller finally nodded in agreement. Victor clearly remembered the scene when the priests made a call to arms, and followers gathered like clouds. In the face of the grand tide of affairs, those who were timid and cowardly had no room to escape and were swept up in it, becoming part of the defense.

What Victor didn’t know was that the two priests had agreed because Bishop Pello had been secretly supporting it.

From the Church’s perspective, while the Ant-men did not actively kill people, they destroyed crops and villages. If the Ant-men were allowed to pour into the Kingdom of Gambia, the lords could hide in their castles and mount a passive defense. But the common people could only leave their homes and become refugees, and famine would surely follow. Therefore, the Church had decided to try Victor’s method. It was better than sitting by and waiting for death.

He could be a wolf, yet they insisted on treating him like a sheep!

Just as Victor was sighing to himself, a scholar noble whispered, “The mountains are full of firewood. But how much dry grass and fire oil will this use?”

The Great Knight, Earl Teldrane, overheard the scholar’s whisper. He said proudly, “Our York family’s wheat straw isn’t needed for feeding cattle and sheep, and we have a huge reserve of lard!”

“How much lard, exactly?” Tacitus asked.

“We haven’t counted,” Edwen chimed in with a smile. “But I can tell you that we’re about to slaughter seventy thousand wild boars!”

“How can there be so many?! How many wild boars are you raising?”

“Not that many. Only about one hundred and fifty thousand.”

“…”

Tacitus stood there, stunned, unable to speak for a long time. Bishop Pello wasn’t concerned with how many wild boars the York family had. He asked, “If you encounter heavy rain or a blizzard, can the flame defense tactic stop the Ant-men?”

Sylvia said coolly, “We have done everything we can. If we really encounter extreme weather, besides evacuating the populace in time, we have no other solution!”

Bishop Pello was at a loss for words. The Church’s support for the Centaur Hills was indeed insufficient. Faced with Sylvia’s barb, he could only shake his head with a wry smile.

An idea struck Victor, and he said, “It’s true that there’s no way to stop the Ant-men in a torrential downpour, but a blizzard shouldn’t be a big problem. As long as we clear the snow from the slope in time, we can still light the wall of fire.”

“To be on the safe side, I will dispatch scout teams deep into the Great Marsh to map the area, monitor the Ant-men’s movements, and provide an early warning. Even if we encounter heavy rain, we’ll have time to evacuate the people.”

Earl Teldrane frowned. “The Great Marsh is fraught with danger. It will be difficult for a scout team to ensure their own safety.”

“No matter how dangerous, someone must bear this responsibility! The safety of tens of thousands of people is at stake. If necessary, I will personally carry out the reconnaissance mission!”

Victor spoke with righteous conviction. In reality, he wanted to seize the opportunity to bring out the produce of the marsh under a legitimate pretext.

Sylvia glanced at Victor and nodded slightly. “Send your people if you want. In any case, I won’t let my family’s soldiers and knights risk their lives in there.”

Bishop Pello, however, greatly admired Victor’s sense of responsibility. He said, “Viscount Randell, I will arrange for five junior Sacred Warriors to assist your scouts.”

Victor quickly said, “My scouts are mountain folk hunters. Their temperaments are rough, and they are nominal believers. If the Sacred Warriors you send are novices, they’ll have a hard time getting along… It’s better not to let the young Sacred Warriors sacrifice themselves for nothing.”

Bishop Pello thought for a moment and said apologetically, “If they can’t cooperate, they would indeed be a burden. We’ll do as you say, Your Excellency.”

“Darling, are you finished talking with His Excellency the Bishop?” Sylvia took Victor’s arm and asked with a radiant smile.

“Uh… yes, we’re finished.”

“I am very satisfied with the results of this drill. Next, shouldn’t we go take a look at my artificial lake?”

Chapter 275: Worth It

Over a month ago, the artificial lake had been connected to the main canal. After more than forty days of settling, the once-turbid water had cleared considerably. The lake’s surface shimmered, a light mist hanging over it, creating a unique and picturesque scene.

Sylvia was captivated, unable to hold back a sigh of admiration. “It’s beautiful!”

The Centaur Hills had more than a dozen natural lakes of various sizes. The largest, Fegor Lake, was located in the center of the hills, covering an area of over 7,300 mu. The lake was bordered by rolling hills and dense reeds, its azure surface rippling, with fish leaping and kites soaring overhead—a magnificent and picturesque landscape that offered different splendors in every season. There was even a holiday villa for Sylvia built on a small island in the lake’s center.

Compared to the grandeur of Fegor Lake, the artificial lake seemed like an insignificant pond. Its banks were bare, devoid of any vegetation, with the dark soil exposed directly underfoot. The two-hundred-mu surface seemed quite large, but the water level was still two meters below the top of the bank.

The scenery of the artificial lake was more than just two meters short of natural beauty. Yet, Sylvia was not the only one enchanted by it.

At this moment, everyone—from the lords, Knights, and noble scholars to the clergy, commoner craftsmen, and artisans—was deeply moved by this project that reshaped nature. The difference was that while the Spire Scholars and Bishop Pello were in a state of shock, they also pondered the deeper meaning of the artificial lake. The lords of the York family, on the other hand, felt more surprise and anticipation, while the eyes of the commoner craftsmen were filled with emotion and pride. This included the resident priest, Father Uri.

When Father Uri first arrived in the Barony, he was both baffled and displeased by the York family’s insistence on building the artificial lake first. As he gradually came to understand its value, he became more enthusiastic than anyone, often rolling up his sleeves to dig mud and haul earth alongside the hired laborers, reveling in the joy of hard-earned sweat.

On the day the canal was opened, a sea of people had gathered to watch. As the surging river water continuously poured into the lakebed through the main canal, deafening cheers erupted from the banks. The mud-caked laborers embraced each other warmly, while the Foreman and Father Uri were hoisted onto the shoulders of the crowd like heroes. The praise for the Supreme Lord from the tens of thousands of people was endless. As Father Uri rejoiced, he also realized that an unparalleled sense of accomplishment had caused these ten thousand-odd refugee laborers to put down roots in this territory. Their creation would benefit their children and grandchildren for generations to come, and Uri himself would be recorded in the annals of the Church.

The Spire Scholars didn’t have Father Uri’s personal experience, but that didn’t hinder their judgment.

A young scholar said with some excitement, “The storage capacity of this artificial lake isn’t massive, but it’s connected to the Goldwater River, so its water will never run dry. It can irrigate sixty thousand mu of arable land.”

“Albert, you haven’t considered the land on either side of the canal. I’ve heard this main canal is six kilometers long. The land on both its left and right can be converted into fertile fields. I’d say at least one hundred and twenty thousand mu of arable land can be reclaimed,” another scholar offered a different opinion.

“That’s impossible!” Albert the scholar retorted. “If the main canal releases water every day, the water will overflow the lake’s banks, flooding the farmland and creating a swamp. So the water release times must be controlled. The main canal has a limited storage capacity; when water isn’t being released, it should be dry.”

“That makes sense. However, some crops don’t require much watering… If we plant drought-resistant rye, we could easily open up forty thousand mu of rye fields on both sides of the main canal.”

“Hmm, I agree with your assessment. This water diversion project has created one hundred thousand mu of farmland…”

One hundred thousand mu? We traveled a thousand li to the Centaur Hills just for a hundred thousand mu of farmland? It should be five hundred times that, or even a thousand!

Master Tacitus didn’t rush to correct his students’ errors. With a complex expression, he looked at his composed old friend and said, “Old friend, right now I’d very much like to see the sluice gate you designed.”

“Of course, we must see it. The sluice gate is the most brilliant part,” Master Edwin said with a smile.

The sluice gate was undoubtedly the core technology of the waterworks project, but the Church’s clergy had been involved in its construction from start to finish, so the technology was no longer a secret. However, it would still be exceedingly difficult for other powers to replicate the project. As Victor had said, what determined the success of a waterworks project was not technology, but timing, geography, and the political climate. His exact words were, “Favorable timing, geographical advantage, and popular support—not one could be missing!” Sylvia agreed wholeheartedly.

Since it couldn’t be hidden, they might as well show it off openly! The influence generated from this would also be in the Centaur Hills’ interest.

The main canal was built in a valley between the hills. On both sides of the canal were transport roads wide enough for horse-drawn carriages, but the scholars and Bishop Pello insisted on walking. A distance of six kilometers was neither long nor short. The scholars observed as they walked, arriving at the outpost by the Goldwater River two hours later.

The middle-aged apprentice knight in charge of the guard had been waiting for some time with a squad of elite soldiers. They approached and bowed to the group. “My Lady, my lords, good day.”

Sylvia raised a delicate hand, gesturing for the half-kneeling apprentice knight to rise and speak. “Byron, show us the sluice gate.”

“As you wish, My Lady.” Byron stood up and said attentively, “My lords, please follow me.”

Byron led the group along the wide riverbank. After about six hundred meters, the banks on both sides grew higher, gradually turning into five-meter-tall limestone walls. Inside the walls was a four-meter-wide canal paved with green brick, while outside was the muddy river flat. Thousands of ugly Fishmen scurried across the flats. Any unobservant Fishmen that strayed too close to the bank were promptly shot and killed by patrolling archers on the wall.

Master Tacitus gazed out and saw several hundred Fishmen carcasses below the wall. He nodded and said, “Fishmen are inherently chaotic intelligent creatures. Their memory is poor, but they still fear death. By shooting them down outside the warning line, the rest of the Fishmen will develop a fear of the wall. This fear will be passed down to the next generation… Avoiding this section of the wall will become an instinct for this Fishmen tribe.”

“This is a tactic the Kingdom of Borea uses to defend against Fishmen… What I’m curious about is, how much effort did you expend to clear the Fishmen from these river flats?”

Master Edwin stroked his beard and smiled smugly. “It was effortless.”

Master Tacitus was stunned. If Sylvia hadn’t been standing beside them, he would have likely grabbed Edwin and shaken him for such a boast.

Fishmen were not a powerful race; they were short and inferior to humans in both strength and intelligence. However, they reproduced extremely quickly, were very cooperative, and had no clear boundaries between their tribes. The river flats were their territory for survival and procreation, and any creature that invaded the flats would be attacked by them. Furthermore, the flats were muddy and difficult to traverse, hindering human soldiers while the Fishmen could run quickly across them. They would fight if they could win and flee if they couldn’t, endlessly harassing their foes. The people of Borea had fought the Fishmen for eighty years and paid a terrible price just to establish their kingdom. Even now, the war was not over, and it likely never would be. How could Tacitus believe that the York family had occupied the river flats without losing a single soldier?

Bishop Pello said softly, “The Ant-man army!”

The realization dawned on Master Tacitus. He nodded. “Yes, only an ant swarm could exterminate the Fishmen on the river flats.” Shaking his head, he sighed again. “No wonder you prioritized building the artificial lake over the city walls… This was truly a golden opportunity!”

One of Tacitus’s students spoke up respectfully. “Master Edwin, I have a question I’d like to ask.”

“Albert, go ahead and ask,” Edwin said with a chuckle.

“Master, Fishmen reproduce very quickly. In less than three years, the number of Fishmen on these flats could exceed four thousand. The riverbank we’re standing on limits their range of movement, so there will always be particularly stupid Fishmen who constantly attack it. Because the soil of the river flats is soft, it’s impossible to build higher walls. When that time comes, the defensive pressure on the walls will be immense…”

Edwin waved his hand. “Are you asking if it’s worth it for us to start a war with the Fishmen for a hundred thousand mu of farmland?”

“Yes,” Albert nodded. “A Barony can support at most a little over two hundred elite soldiers. But I’ve noticed that the wall along the river flat is 1.6 kilometers long. You’d need to station a hundred soldiers on each side just to prevent the Fishmen from scaling it. When the number of Fishmen increases to four thousand, the number of those in a Savage state will also increase. You will not only need more soldiers for the city’s defense, but also more apprentice knights stationed here permanently. Add to that the troops for rotation… I believe that in three years, your family will need to permanently station ten apprentice knights and twelve hundred soldiers in rotation for defense, with a limitless supply of arrows!”

The standing army of an Earldom was about twelve hundred soldiers, but no Earl could bear the cost of keeping his forces in a constant state of war. For the York family to pay such a heavy price for a hundred thousand mu of farmland was clearly not worth it.

Bishop Pello’s ears perked up; this was something that had puzzled him as well. Tacitus and Edwin exchanged a knowing smile. Tacitus said, “Albert, don’t be so quick to jump to conclusions. Keep watching, and you’ll see whether it’s worth it or not.”

Below the sluice gate was the endlessly flowing Goldwater River. Only by viewing the surging river up close could one truly appreciate its immense and timeless power. The surface of the river, more than ten kilometers wide, was a mass of surging waves. Pello strained his eyes but could not see the opposite bank clearly. Faced with this mighty force of nature, anyone would be struck by a sense of their own insignificance.

Sylvia stood against the wind. At some point, she had undone her hair bun, letting her long golden hair fly freely in the breeze. The Knights of the York family surrounded her and Victor, pointing towards the opposite shore, talking and laughing with a grand ambition that seemed to command rivers and mountains.

Bishop Pello suddenly realized that diverting the Goldwater River to irrigate farmland was a feat unprecedented in the Radiant Calendar. On this basis alone, Sylvia could become a figure sung of in epics, and the York family would be recorded in the annals of history.

Perhaps, this alone made it worthwhile.

Chapter 276: Rose Lake and Silvermoon River

“The superstructure is all green brick?”

The scholars’ discussion caught Bishop Pello’s attention. He heard Edwin say, “Yes, it’s much better than the riverside outposts in the Kingdom of Borea, isn’t it?”

To contain the Fishmen’s territory, the Boreans had built numerous defensive outposts along the riverbanks. The soil on the river shoals couldn’t support heavy stone castles, so Borean artisans had to build four-meter-high outpost foundations from limestone and rammed earth. The structures atop these foundations could only be made of wood, and they had to use the lighter pine. Since pine rotted easily, the Kingdom of Borea had to import large quantities of lumber from the Kingdom of Sus every year to repair these riverside outposts. Between the cost of procurement, labor, and transportation, the price the Boreans paid to maintain their river defenses was staggering.

Although green brick was more brittle, it was much sturdier than pine, not to mention corrosion-resistant. Even on the damp riverbanks, a green brick building could last for at least a decade. On this point alone, the York family had saved a fortune.

“Open the sluice,” Sylvia said as she walked over.

“Open the sluice!” an apprentice knight of the York family commanded. A dozen brawny soldiers turned the winches, and the refined iron chains creaked and groaned as the heavy gate was slowly raised. With a great whoosh, river water surged through the opening, flowing down the three-meter-wide canal toward the horizon.

The Spire Scholar Albert stared at the churning, muddy water and murmured, “It doesn’t matter if silt is washed in. With the control of the sluice gate, laborers can dredge the canal at any time, and the water will flow ceaselessly… I understand… And it’s because of these sluice gates that this kind of canal can be extended indefinitely. Build a sluice gate south of the artificial lake, dig a canal, and divert the water to the Black River seven kilometers away. That would form a man-made river that will never run dry, irrigating not one hundred thousand mu, but three hundred thousand mu!”

“The Phoenix Barony originally had no stable water source and couldn’t have had much arable land. Now it has a full three hundred thousand mu of fertile fields.”

“This is a grand miracle!”

Father Uri’s face beamed with pride, while Bishop Pello and the crowd of scholars sighed in amazement. Master Tacitus, however, exclaimed, “If it’s a miracle, how could it be a mere three hundred thousand mu?”

A chill ran up Bishop Pello’s spine. He was struck by a bold conjecture that left him numb from head to toe, while the upper echelons of the York family all maintained faint smiles. They had already been through this shock.

“A-A canal that runs through the entire Centaur Hills?!”

The young scholars still couldn’t believe their own hypothesis. Tacitus turned to Edwin and said, “There are hundreds of stream reservoirs built in the Centaur Hills. These reservoirs serve the same function as this artificial lake! They are all…”

“Nodes in this artificial irrigation and water conservancy system!” Edwin finished.

“A man-made river over one thousand kilometers long, hundreds of artificial lakes… This… this is simply indescribable! Indescribable!” Albert couldn’t even find the words to describe this miracle, only repeating “indescribable” over and over.

After a long while, once the scholars had finally digested this incredible concept, someone finally raised a doubt.

“Master Edwin, I have a question!”

“The Black River is just a shallow river. If this artificial irrigation system diverts water from the Goldwater River into the Black River, the water level will inevitably surge, flooding the banks and creating vast swamps! Wouldn’t the losses outweigh the gains?”

“Ring canals!” Before Edwin could answer, Bishop Pello gently uttered a single phrase.

This world was not without its man-made rivers. The moats surrounding castles were also artificially dug rivers, and skilled artisans could even build canals to bring river water into towns for daily use. Similarly, the method of digging canals to irrigate farmland had existed for thousands of years. The central and south-central regions of the Kingdom of Gambia were the alluvial plains of the Brinol River, where the land was fertile and suitable for growing crops. To reclaim more farmland, most of the lords on the plains built canals to divert water from the Brinol River to irrigate lands several kilometers away, but the canals had to lead back to the Brinol River, or the water would flood vast swathes of fields.

A canal that looped back to the main river was known as a ring canal.

Due to problems with siltation, most ring canals were only 1.5 meters wide, 70 centimeters deep, and no more than 20 kilometers long. The longest ring canal, located in the Kingdom of Sus, was only 17 kilometers.

Ring canals could meet the needs of irrigation, but they couldn’t serve to divert water flow. With sluice gates, however, it was a different story.

The Black River ran from north to south. The stream reservoirs in the Centaur Hills were all to its west, but to its east lay a vast expanse of land. By building sluice gates and digging wider, deeper ring canals and artificial lakes on the east side of the river, the York family could not only divert the water source but also irrigate countless fields.

This was the full picture of the artificial irrigation and water conservancy system!

“Every canal has a sluice gate, and the stream reservoirs are connected to the Black River. If a canal gets clogged, they can immediately close its sluice gate and dredge it, with minimal impact on the entire irrigation system. During the rainy season, closing the main sluice turns the stream reservoirs into cisterns, completely eliminating the fear of floods… What an ingenious design, what a magnificent project…”

Master Tacitus, sighing with emotion, asked in a trembling voice, “Old friend, how much farmland can this artificial irrigation and water conservancy system reclaim?”

“A conservative estimate… one hundred twenty million mu!”

Bishop Pello felt a wave of dizziness wash over him. The total farmland in the Kingdom of Gambia was two hundred ten million mu. The farmland about to be developed in the Centaur Hills was more than half of the entire kingdom’s total! One had to understand that although the Centaur Hills was large, it was full of hills, and the Black River’s volume was limited. The amount of arable land was far from comparable to the Brinol Plains. The Gambis Royal Family occupied the most fertile plains, and even they only controlled one hundred ten million mu of farmland.

What did farmland mean to a lord?

The output of farmland certainly couldn’t compare to a mineral vein, but a mine would one day be exhausted, while farmland yielded a harvest year after year. It was a lord’s greatest wealth! Only with farmland could a lord’s family have a foundation to endure through the generations. Many apprentice knights pledged themselves to other families precisely because their own could not grant them a farmstead. The struggle for precious land resources had always been the main theme of human warfare, both internal and external.

The York family’s artificial irrigation and water conservancy system could reclaim over a hundred million mu of farmland. Could other families replicate it?

Bishop Pello thought it over carefully and concluded that it would be very, very difficult—almost impossible!

The York family’s water source was drawn from the Goldwater River, and that was only possible because the Ant-man army had annihilated the Fishmen on the river shoals. Could other lords defeat the Fishmen? One only had to look at the Kingdom of Borea to see how difficult that was. The five ruling families of the Kingdom of Borea had fought the Fishmen for a full eighty years, pushing themselves to the brink of collapse, just to build their first port. No single family had that kind of determination and strength.

Even if lords joined forces to clear out the Fishmen, who would control the sluice gates? Who would be willing to entrust their fate to the whims of another family? It was a virtually unsolvable problem.

If not for this reason, how could no one have thought of a simple device like a sluice gate? No one invented it because it was never needed!

The dozen or so lords in the Centaur Hills were all vassals of the York family. Yet, if not for Sylvia’s prestige, even they might not have reached a consensus. Whatever the future held, at least the York family had taken the first step. And just like the Boreans, once that first step was taken, they would continue to walk the path.

The rise of the Centaur Hills was now unstoppable!

What Bishop Pello could figure out, others could as well. The dozen young scholars wore varied expressions—some worried, some excited, some filled with longing.

Pello understood Sylvia’s intention. These scholars came from every human kingdom; they were nobles from Gambia, Dodor, Sus, and even Sasan. The glorious future of the Centaur Hills would be spread through them to the entire human world. Knights and scholars from smaller families would flood into the Centaur Hills to pledge allegiance to the York family, because they had more than enough farmland to offer!

“Livestock that don’t compete with people for land! Raising over a hundred thousand wild boars! More than one hundred million mu of farmland! How many people can this support? How many people?”

Father Uri was so excited his face flushed red. Pello suddenly realized that the new agropastoral system and the water conservancy project were a complete, integrated whole! Once the project was completed, the Centaur Hills would be able to support a population of a million. The greatest beneficiaries of this miraculous project were the Church and the common people!

“Your esteemed Highness Sylvia, I congratulate you. You have conquered the Goldwater River and transformed the Centaur Hills. This is a pioneering achievement, unprecedented in history! Your great accomplishments will be recorded in history, and your wisdom and boldness will be sung of in epics!”

Master Tacitus gave Sylvia a solemn bow, and Sylvia returned it with an elegant curtsy. Tacitus then embraced Master Edwin, praising him, “Old friend, I congratulate you as well. Arya founded the vassalage system and changed the course of human history, while you have changed nature itself. Your extraordinary achievements are comparable to those of the Spire’s founder. Your name and deeds will be carved upon the walls of the Silver Spire!”

“Haha, my old friend, I didn’t invent this water conservancy project!” Edwin laughed heartily.

“Ah? Then which master created it? It can’t be…?!” Tacitus followed Edwin’s gaze and saw Viscount Randell, who was busy shooting down Fishmen. He spoke in disbelief.

Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh.

The yew greatbow twanged continuously. Three Fishmen five hundred meters away were pinned to the ground by long arrows falling from the sky. Nicole, her face full of blissful adoration, took the greatbow from her lover’s hands, then linked her arm with his as they walked over.

“Your Excellency Randell, I never would have thought it was you…”

Master Tacitus found himself using a deferential tone without realizing it. Victor quickly waved his hands and said, “How could I have designed such a complex system? I merely provided Master Edwin with an idea. It was the Master who designed the sluice gate and perfected the entire concept.”

Master Edwin gave Victor a gratified look. To conceal Victor’s role, Sylvia had wanted to attribute both the water conservancy project and the new agropastoral system to him. However, the old scholar detested falsehoods and had only reluctantly agreed for Victor’s safety. With Victor’s current strength and reputation, there was no longer any need to hide in the shadows, so Edwin had insisted on giving Victor the credit he was due. Victor, however, firmly refused to be burdened by fame, and Edwin could only compromise in the end, since it was indeed he who had perfected the design.

“Viscount Randell, how did you think of it?” Master Tacitus asked curiously after composing himself.

Before Victor could answer, Edwin said excitedly, “Victor saw the subjects digging canals to divert water and realized the banks of the Goldwater River were free of Fishmen, which is how he came up with the idea! Old friend, this is our victory! Absorbing the wisdom of the common people is the future of the Silver Spire!”

“Master Edwin, you are correct. The supreme Lord of Radiance guides the wisdom of the people; we need only to discover and make good use of it,” Bishop Pello said earnestly.

Sylvia nodded slightly and asked, calm and nonchalant, “Your Excellency, do you have any thoughts?”

Pello let out a long laugh, his voice full of vigor. “To devote myself to such a great cause is the honor of my life. I will request of Archbishop Lazarus to also serve as the Bishop of the Centaur Hills. I firmly believe His Holiness the Pope will also attach great importance to the needs of the Centaur Hills!”

Pello was a disciple of the Pope. This declaration was tantamount to giving up his own prospects of becoming an Archbishop, but in its wake would come a shift of the Church’s resources toward the Centaur Hills. The lords of the York family all beamed with joy, like parched land receiving a timely rain. Earl Teldrane stepped forward and said, “Your Highness, please name the artificial lake!”

“Rose Lake!” Sylvia’s beautiful eyes flickered. She took Victor’s arm and added, “The Black River shall be renamed the Silvermoon River, and Black Fortress Town shall be renamed Goldwater City!”

Master Edwin stroked his beard and smiled. “Excellent! Rose Lake, Silvermoon River, Goldwater City. Well-deserved names indeed!”

Chapter 277: The Lord Is a Believer?

The trip to the artificial lake came to an end, and it was only to be expected that the lord would host an evening banquet to entertain his distinguished guests. The venue for the banquet was Nicole’s Golden Oak Manor.

This holiday manor, covering six hundred and forty mu, was a gift from Victor to Nicole. The manor’s style was reminiscent of a modern garden, its elegance concealing a hidden luxury. The European-style classical villa was both beautiful and comfortable, with deep courtyards and picturesque scenery that made it hard to leave.

Unfortunately, this was not a good time for leisure and vacation.

Early the next morning, the vassal lords of the York family set off in a hurry. They needed to rush back to preside over the Season of Wind inspection. The scholars from the Silver Spire followed Master Edwin back to the former Black Fortress Town, now known as Goldwater City. The reconstruction of the Centaur Hills was in full swing, and with the York family short on manpower, Edwin was not about to let this readily available help go to waste. Bishop Pello also took his leave. He needed to personally inspect the church affairs in the Centaur Hills, identify and address any shortcomings, and only then could he reassign personnel and write a detailed report requesting aid from the Holy See.

Bishop Pello had already seen the state of the Phoenix Barony; his next stop was the Randell Fief.

That afternoon, Pello and his Paladins arrived in Laketon. Having received word, Father Miller and a few church attendants were already waiting at the town gate.

According to noble etiquette, the lord should personally receive a bishop of the Church. However, Sylvia and Victor still had important matters to discuss, so Pello went on ahead. Besides, the lord never cared about church affairs; they couldn’t even say for sure how many freemen were in their territory, and were completely clueless about the matters the Church was concerned with. Whether the lord accompanied him or not wouldn’t affect Pello’s work. He declined Victor’s kind offer and did not inform the three ladies of House Randell.

“Praise be to my Lord. My lord Pello, you’ve arrived,” Father Miller said, bowing with a beaming smile.

Seeing Miller’s aged face and head full of white hair, Pello couldn’t help but sigh inwardly.

Devout believers who comprehended the divine arts of Radiance on their own were called the God-favored, meaning those blessed by the Lord of Radiance. The appearance of a God-favored person in a diocese was a major event. The Church would gather the people of the diocese for a grand thanksgiving ceremony and have the God-favored demonstrate their divine arts on the spot to inspire the piety of the believers. Then, the God-favored would be taken to the Holy See to receive training in a monastery and become a true priest.

However, God-favored priests were mostly not well-regarded by the Church—to be precise, they were a major headache.

The Radiant Church took the salvation of the people as its mission. Its ability to endure for thousands of years and influence every aspect of human society relied not only on divine arts and faith, but also on a pragmatic approach.

A qualified priest needed not only a firm conviction to save the people, but also smooth and tactful methods. They had to be able to secure benefits for the Church while also understanding the art of compromise. If every member of the clergy charged to the front and retreated last, fearless of sacrifice and happy to contribute, the Radiant Church would have either bankrupted itself or been wiped out completely. How could it then speak of saving the people?

Pious faith and a pragmatic spirit were the roots of the Church’s survival and growth. Priests who had received theological education still needed time and wisdom to reconcile these two cognitions, let alone the simple, rigid, and ignorant God-favored, who couldn’t even collect the full tithe.

Overdrafting their life force and abusing divine arts was another common failing of the God-favored. And the Church found it very difficult to explain to them why they couldn’t use divine arts to heal the common folk, why they stood by as lords dispersed freemen camps, or why they tacitly accepted the prayer of atonement from criminals…

If, during the process of re-education, a cognitive conflict arose in a God-favored that shook their conviction and caused them to lose their divine favor, it would have a very negative impact, even potentially shaking the faith of the populace. Therefore, the Church often sent God-favored priests to Pioneer Fiefs to serve as resident priests. After all, there were no tithes to collect in a Pioneer Fief, and divine arts were most effective at strengthening the faith and courage of the people.

God-favored priests were also known as commoner priests, and most commoner priests didn’t live long. Miller’s aged appearance was clearly the result of overusing his divine arts.

“All glory to my Lord!”

After returning the bow, Pello instructed, “Miller, I don’t want to disturb the common folk. Let’s go to the church first, change into ordinary clothes, and then inspect the church affairs in the Randell Fief.”

“As you wish, My lord.”

Miller arranged for the attendants to lead the way, then boarded the bishop’s carriage. The driver flicked the reins, and the draft horses set off, pulling the carriage forward at a slow pace.

The streets of Laketon were wide and clean. Through the carriage window, Pello could see tall ornamental trees and neat green brick buildings. He had already learned of Laketon’s changes from Miller’s report, but seeing the town’s appearance with his own eyes still filled him with amazement.

Four years ago, this was just an empty piece of land. Now, it had transformed into a beautiful town capable of housing over eight thousand people. The town’s scenery even surpassed that of most cities, and its construction was not yet finished.

The Randell Fief was a true Pioneer Fief. Viscount Randell had only been developing this territory for four years, and in the middle of that, it had endured the ordeal of an Ant-man tide. He had actually been rebuilding his fief for less than three years.

For an ordinary Pioneer Lord, three years was enough to build a castle, three villages, cultivate forty thousand mu of land, and accommodate four thousand refugees, which would be considered good. But the Randell Fief now had one town, seven villages, one castle, one hundred and forty thousand mu of cultivated land, five stream reservoirs, and had taken in over ten thousand refugees. The speed of its development was simply inconceivable.

However, the reconstruction of the entire Centaur Hills was progressing at an astonishing rate, so Bishop Pello wasn’t overly concerned with the town of Laketon that seemed to have sprung up from the ground. He asked Miller, “The town seems rather empty?”

Miller looked at the deserted streets and smiled. “It’s the Foraging Season right now. The townspeople are all out gathering.”

Pello nodded and asked again, “What is the current population of the Randell Fief?”

“Over thirteen thousand nine hundred people, I believe…” Miller thought for a moment, then explained with some unease, “Dozens of freemen are entering the Randell Fief every day to make a living, and many newborns are being born in the fief…”

“Newborns?!” Pello’s eyes lit up, and he quickly pressed, “How many newborns are there in your diocese?”

“In the past two months, there have been five hundred and thirty-two newborns, and in the next two months, we will welcome at least seven hundred and twenty-three more,” Miller immediately reported the specific numbers.

“So many! Praise be to my Lord,” Bishop Pello said, pleasantly surprised.

The Church encouraged childbirth, and the survival rate of newborns was an important indicator for evaluating a priest’s work. However, most refugees were displaced and lived difficult lives; they would rather use herbal contraceptives than have children. The Church could do nothing about this. That the Randell Fief had over a thousand newborns was truly an unexpected delight, but Bishop Pello then grew somewhat worried.

Baptizing newborns and providing medical aid were the duties of a priest. Miller had come to his post alone, with no attendants and no support. Relying on just himself and the two dozen newly recruited church attendants, there was no way he could care for so many pregnant women and newborns.

Population growth was certainly a good thing, but if too many infants died, it would damage the Church’s reputation. Pello hesitated for a moment, unable to resist asking, “How many children have died? Are the relief supplies sufficient? Can you and your attendants manage?”

Miller shook his head. Pello’s heart tightened, but then he heard, “We’re not short on relief supplies… Four newborns have unfortunately died, and sixteen pregnant women miscarried…”

“My Lord protects,” Pello said, breathing a sigh of relief as suspicion began to grow.

It was very rare for refugees to have children in droves, and for such a phenomenon to occur in a Pioneer Fief was absolutely unheard of. Moreover, even a resident priest in a bustling city couldn’t possibly care for so many pregnant women and newborns. Not only had Miller done it, he had done it exceptionally well. This seemed rather strange.

“How does the Randell Fief have so many pregnant women and newborns? And how do you manage to care for the health of so many people?” Bishop Pello asked, puzzled.

Miller’s old face broke into a smile as wide as a flower, his eyebrows dancing with excitement. “Viscount Randell, inspired by my Lord’s call, is very supportive of my church work. He has donated a large amount of supplies and money to the Church to encourage the people to have children. Each month, we distribute one Silver Sol, six fish, ten pounds of pork, two ground lizards, and five pounds of lard to every pregnant woman. Until their first birthday, infants receive one ground lizard egg, and half a liter of cow’s milk or goat’s milk every day.”

“Viscount Randell has donated the fief’s herbs to the church free of charge, and has also funded the hiring of over one hundred women to form a medical team to assist me in making potions and caring for the sick, new mothers, and infants.”

Bishop Pello was speechless. The Church and the Titled Nobles had no fundamental conflicts; in fact, they had common interests. For thousands of years, the two sides had benefited each other, relying on one another, and had formed a rather stable cooperative relationship. The Church needed the strength of the Knights to develop territories and protect the people, while the lords needed the Church to pacify the populace, manage refugees, and provide medical aid and military support. The refugee problem was their main point of contention. Lords wished to maintain the most reasonable population for their territory, while the Church wanted as many believers as possible. Yet the Church had to make concessions, not due to pressure from the lords, but because human territory was constantly shrinking.

A massive surplus population not only overwhelmed the fiefs but also made things difficult for the Church. The lords adhered to a simple principle: controlling the population of their fiefs was the only way to sell grain to other families at high prices. Therefore, lords did not allow freemen to illegally gather natural resources from their lands. Importing grain caused local grain prices to rise. When hired freemen saw no profit to be made, some would naturally leave the territory, which is how refugees came to be. With fewer refugees, the lords could sell their surplus grain to other families and earn a profit.

Since the lords wanted to make money from the grain trade, how could they possibly encourage freemen to have children?

The achievements of the Randell Fief were remarkable, but it was, after all, a Pioneer Fief. The supplies Viscount Randell donated to the Church based on the number of pregnant women and newborns were no small sum. It would have been more logical for him to use that money to hire more able-bodied laborers.

Thinking of the Randell Fief’s “building a house to establish residency” policy and the Divine Notarization to protect the property of freemen, Bishop Pello was completely baffled by the Viscount’s actions in helping the priest provide relief to the people. He almost suspected that Victor was a devout believer of the Lord of Radiance.

Seeing Miller’s head of white hair, a thought struck Pello. He seemed to have found the reason.

No matter the Church’s methods, its purpose of saving the people had never changed. Since the beginning of the Radiant Calendar, over a million clergy had been martyred. The sacrifice and dedication of the clergy represented the shining side of humanity, and it moved not only the common people but also the nobles.

Pello had experienced this firsthand. Twenty-seven years ago, Hogus, the Gnoll King of the Twilight Forest, launched a Beast Tide prematurely, attacking the northern territories of the Kingdom of Sus. Pello led thirty Paladins to reinforce a small, precarious town. Together with the town’s soldiers, they faced a Gnoll force ten times their number, holding the town for a full seventeen days. During the battle, Pello saved all his divine arts for the soldiers and Paladins. Whenever his divine arts were depleted and his holy power exhausted, he would wield his mace and fight alongside the warriors, personally slaying thirteen Gnolls. When the knights of the Kingdom of Sus arrived with troops to lift the siege, less than a tenth of the Paladins remained, and the young priest was also gravely injured. Pello would never forget the solemn courtesy and reverent gazes of the Sus knights.

Knight-Nobles pursued the power of the Elemental Sea; they could not be devout believers, but that didn’t mean they didn’t recognize the doctrines of the Radiant Code. In fact, many ordinary nobles were believers of the Lord of Radiance, the most influential among them being the Spire’s founder, Arya. Otherwise, the Church would not have been able to form the Spire Faction with the southern nobles.

The Church and the nobility were already intertwined in a situation where you couldn’t tell one from the other. The current Pope, Clement, had noble blood flowing through his veins.

There was another famous figure in history who had a very close relationship with the Church: Sword Saint Draven. One of Draven’s wives was the vice-commander of the Radiant Knights. The lords claimed that Draven had taken the female Paladin for himself, a fallacy the Church vehemently opposed. They proclaimed that Draven, inspired by the Lord, had fallen in love with the female Paladin, and their marriage was blessed by the Lord of Radiance. Draven’s cooperation with the Radiant Knights to kill the Ogre King was clear proof of this.

In short, ordinary nobles tended to have closer relationships with the Church. And Viscount Randell was not an ordinary noble, but he was not a Knight-Noble either! Like Draven, he did not need to directly face the influence of the Elemental Sea!

Victor had never received a knight’s education, his confidants were all commoners, and Miller’s selfless spirit had moved him. This was the only way to explain the Randell family’s support for Miller.

At this thought, Pello’s feelings were somewhat complicated. He had originally planned to replace the resident priest of the Randell Fief, but now he had no such intention.

The carriage stopped in the plaza district. Pello and his attendant entered the church and changed into farmer’s clothes. Miller asked, “My lord Pello, where would you like to visit first?”

Pello pondered for a moment and said, “Raising wild boars is an important part of the new agropastoral system. Let’s go see the wild boar farm.”

Chapter 278: The First Brick

A priest watches over his flock. His duties include organizing believers for prayer, providing medical care, offering relief to the people, assisting the lord in eliminating monsters, placating laborers to ensure they work hard, and supervising the conduct of nobles and vassals. In times of disaster, they must also organize evacuations.

A saying circulates among the titled nobles: “My fief can do without a steward, but it absolutely cannot be without a priest!”

Of course, there is no such thing as a free lunch. Another of a priest’s duties is to collect the tithe.

The Radiant Code clearly stipulates that the tithe has the highest priority and is sacred and inviolable. Priests are merciless when collecting taxes, not sparing even a single Copper Sol. A lord might be able to fool the King’s tax collector, but he could never deceive a priest. In fact, most lords are themselves unsure of their fief’s total income, but the priest knows exactly how much grain was harvested, how many minerals were mined, and how much profit was made from trade that year. Naturally, with the guarantee of the Radiant Code, the priest would certainly not over-report the figures. Lords would even go to the priest to verify their fief’s income, using it to check if anyone was embezzling funds.

In the beginning, the lords felt the sting, but gradually they discovered that when their fief’s income decreased, the priest would become just as anxious as they were. To increase tax revenue, a resident priest would spare no effort to help the lord generate more income. The Greensage candles of Baron Schultz’s fief, for instance, were a typical example of a priest helping a lord create revenue. If an epidemic broke out among the livestock, the priest would leverage the Church’s resources to provide a solution. They also offered techniques for smelting minerals, methods for cultivating and extracting oil from Oilwood, and more. Some of these technologies were invented by the Church, while others were plagiarized from other lords.

The new agricultural and pastoral methods were proving remarkably effective. The Church had already mastered the mouldboard plow and the techniques of deep plowing and careful cultivation, but the technology for raising wild boars in enclosures was not yet ready for widespread implementation. Pello was determined to participate in the grand undertaking of transforming the Centaur Hills. He first had to assess the future output of the Centaur Hills diocese and predict its tithe income. Only then could the Church provide financial support based on his report. The greater the Centaur Hills’ potential for paying tithes, the stronger the Church’s support would be. And since pig farming was a major source of income for the Centaur Hills, Pello naturally had to conduct a detailed inspection of the wild boar breeding operations.

Upon arriving at the farm, Father Miller declined the steward’s offer to accompany them and led Pello and the others on a tour through the pigsties.

This wild boar farm was located far from Laketon, built on the eastern bank of the Silvermoon River, covering an area of over three hundred mu. Today, the wind was blowing west. Standing outside the farm, one couldn’t sense much, but once inside, the nauseating stench was inescapable. Bishop Pello paid no mind to the smelly pig manure—this stuff was a farmer’s treasure, after all. He examined the wild boars in their pens with great interest.

The pigsties, built from green brick, were packed tightly together. Each was about twenty square meters, crammed with five plump, round wild boars, lying or sprawling about in a state of extreme laziness. Only when a farmer passed by with a cart would they get up, nudge their way to the trough, and wait with hungry eyes for the feed that would seemingly fall from the sky. As the boars buried their snouts in the trough, gorging themselves, three farmers entered the sty and began to clean out the manure.

Bishop Pello asked with some concern, “Wild boars are ferocious by nature. Won’t they be in danger going in there? And I doubt these green brick pens can withstand a charge from a wild boar, can they? Why not use Iron-oak fences?”

“People did get injured at the beginning, but such accidents are rare now,” Miller said, nodding. “These are second-generation captive-bred boars. After castration, they’ve lost most of their wildness. They’re used to life in the pen and won’t easily attack the keepers or damage the sties. All they do is eat and sleep, sleep and eat. They’re complete lazy pigs.”

“The main reason for using green bricks to build the sties is for fire prevention. Iron-oak fences are sturdy, but if a fire breaks out, the entire farm would be devastated. Besides, Iron-oak rots, and the worms that breed in it would actually attract the boars to gnaw on the fences.”

A peculiar expression crossed Pello’s face. He shook his head and said, “I wonder what other nobles would think if they knew the Randell Fief uses green bricks to build pigsties?”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Miller said with a smile. “The Randell Fief produces green bricks of different specifications and styles, divided into noble-grade bricks, vassal-grade bricks, subject-grade bricks, and low-grade bricks. Low-grade bricks are specifically for building animal pens and stables. These are all low-grade bricks.”

Pello was taken aback for a moment, then sighed, “The Wimbledon family truly lives up to their reputation as commercial nobility. For Viscount Randell to come up with such a clever method…”

After a pause, he asked, “How many pigs are on this farm? And how many are being raised in the entire Randell Fief?”

“There are over six thousand pigs here. We have four farms of this scale, plus the ones raised by individual laborer families… The Randell Fief has about thirty thousand pigs in total,” Miller replied.

“How can there be so many? Even if you captured every wild boar in the Randell Fief, it couldn’t possibly exceed twenty thousand, right?” Although he had been mentally prepared, Pello was still startled.

“A wild sow gives birth twice a year, with about ten piglets per litter. The boars have a habit of eating the young, so the wild population never exceeds twenty thousand. Now, they are housed separately, and most of the piglets survive,” Miller explained. “House of Randell plans to expand the number of domestic pigs to sixty thousand within three years.”

“Domestic pigs?”

“Yes.” Miller nodded. “My lord, as you can see, these boars have lost their wild nature. Viscount Randell believes they can no longer be called wild boars, but should be called domestic pigs. Master Edwin also believes that the wild boar is being domesticated, just as wolves were domesticated into hounds. The wild boars will also change. After a few more generations of breeding, these domestic pigs will show clear differences from ordinary wild boars, such as less mane, degenerated tusks, a gluttonous and lazy disposition, and exceptionally fast growth. They’ll also be more susceptible to illness.”

“They certainly should be called domestic pigs.”

Pello, being a scholar himself, agreed with Edwin’s view, but another question occurred to him.

“Domestic pigs have quite an appetite. Can the Randell Fief support sixty thousand pigs?”

“A large pig eats an astonishing amount, but a small pig eats far less. These domestic pigs can grow to about three hundred pounds in ten months. We slaughter them every ten months and don’t let them get too big. That’s how we can support sixty thousand pigs.”

Miller marveled inwardly. His own power was as vast as the oceans, not inferior to even the first Pope, but no divine art could conjure food from nothing, much less feed sixty thousand pigs. Yet Victor had solved this problem with such ease. The various achievements of the Randell Fief filled Miller with a sense of awe for Victor’s wisdom, as if gazing up at a towering mountain.

In truth, Victor could have expanded the scale of pig farming to three hundred thousand or even five hundred thousand. But the saying that low prices hurt the farmer was no joke. The natural resources of the Randell Fief could support a maximum of two hundred thousand pigs. Exceeding that number would require producing extra pig feed, which would raise the cost of farming. Factoring in the commoners’ ability to consume pork, the entire Centaur Hills could not blindly expand its pig farming, or it would end up losing money.

What Victor pursued was the maximization of profit. He wasn’t raising pigs so that refugee laborers could eat cheap meat every day, nor was he foolishly donating it to the Church. Victor intended to use the pork trade to plunder the wealth of other families and ensure the operation of the Alchemy Tower.

Victor had told Duke York: pigs are raised to make money. It is better for the refugee laborers to have no meat than for them to eat it for free.

The Duke had praised this view profusely, and the York family’s vassal lords also trusted in Victor’s ability. And so, the enthusiasm for pig farming in the Centaur Hills cooled down.

Nevertheless, the number of domestic pigs in the Randell Fief was still a great surprise to Bishop Pello. He began to mentally calculate the fief’s pork output.

These domestic pigs didn’t weigh as much as the large wild boars that could exceed four hundred pounds, but they were slaughtered every ten months! A year had sixteen months, so two years was thirty-two months. Based on the current thirty thousand domestic pigs, the Randell Fief would slaughter ninety thousand pigs in two years, which was no less than forty-five thousand a year! With an average weight of three hundred pounds per domestic pig, and subtracting the inedible parts, each pig provided two hundred and forty pounds of meat. The Randell family’s annual pork production was at least ten million pounds.

The tithe paid by the Randell family next year would surely include no less than one million pounds of pork! And how much pork would the entire Centaur Hills be contributing?

Bishop Pello was stunned by his own conclusion, and his gaze upon the fat pigs grew hotter.

After inspecting every pigsty and asking many questions, Bishop Pello reluctantly left the domestic pig farm.

It was the Season of Wind, with crisp autumn air. The sunlight in the fields was bright, warm, and pleasant. Free from the putrid smell of pig manure, Bishop Pello couldn’t help but take a deep breath. Just then, a convoy of carriages sped toward them, kicking up a cloud of dust that engulfed the Bishop standing by the roadside. Father Miller, now covered in dust, pointed at the convoy and started cursing, but Pello grabbed his arm and stammered, “On the carriages… are those… are those Spiked… Spiked Kidney Bean trees?! The Randell Fief is going to plant Spiked Kidney Beans!? Is that right?”

“Those bastards, how outrageous!” Miller muttered as he diligently dusted off the bishop. “I don’t recognize the saplings on the carriages. I heard they’re a crop Duke Wellington gave to Viscount Randell. Convoys have been bringing them over every day for half a month now. These drivers are so reckless, aren’t they afraid of breaking their horses’ legs!”

“Then that’s it! They’re worried the Spiked Kidney Bean saplings will wither and die!” Pello was ecstatic. He wished he could laugh out loud three times to express his current mood.

Food scarcity was a major factor contributing to infighting among lords. The total arable land of the southern kingdoms was more than double that of the Sasan Empire, yet their grain production was only seventy percent of the Empire’s. This wasn’t because the southern lands were less fertile, but because the Sasan Empire could grow high-yield green wheat.

Northern green wheat ripened every six months. As long as the fields were left fallow to recover for two months, two harvests a year could be guaranteed, with a yield of six hundred pounds per mu. In contrast, the south’s Spelt wheat yielded no more than four hundred and fifty pounds per mu and required a full year of crop rotation, meaning that out of one hundred million mu of arable land, only fifty million were planted with wheat each year. The deadliest part was the southern wheat’s twelve-month-long growing cycle.

Low yields could be tolerated, and crop rotation could be dealt with, but what were people supposed to eat during the eight or nine months of the lean season? Thus, the subjects were heavily dependent on the natural resources of their fiefs.

Typically, a village controlled about three hundred square kilometers of land. A prosperous fief might have over a thousand registered villagers, while a barren one might only have four or five hundred. To protect their fief’s natural resources, these villagers often clashed violently with refugees. Lords would also go to war with each other to acquire more territory, a conflict that had now escalated into wars between kingdoms.

The Church and the lords had long tried to solve the problem of the lean season. They cultivated many crops, like rye, soldier beans, and kidney beans, but the results were unsatisfactory—until the Wellington family cultivated the Spiked Kidney Bean.

Although the Spiked Kidney Bean had a high water content, its yield was astonishingly high, reaching an incredible three thousand pounds per mu. Moreover, its five-month continuous harvesting period perfectly solved the lean season problem. However, its almost non-existent economic value made lords shun this high-yield crop.

The Kingdom of Ayr was the largest planter of the Spiked Kidney Bean, but as more and more freemen flooded into Ayr, they stopped planting it too. The Church even issued an edict forbidding freemen from entering the Kingdom of Ayr to make a living, the reason for which was, of course, noble-sounding and impeccable.

The Church tried hard to persuade lords to plant Spiked Kidney Beans, but no one bought it. They gradually realized that unless all lords planted them, no one would. If the Church had that kind of power, they might as well have the lords sit down and discuss peaceful unification.

In any case, the Randell Fief’s willingness to plant Spiked Kidney Beans filled Bishop Pello with immense joy. It meant more people, more believers.

“How many mu of Spiked Kidney Beans does Viscount Randell plan to plant?” Pello asked cheerfully.

“This… I don’t know,” Miller explained, looking a bit troubled. “These Spiked Kidney Beans are all being planted on the hills, so it’s hard to get a count of the acreage right now.”

“Planted on the hills?” Pello thought for a moment and asked, “So the farmland is spared, but what about the wild resources on the hills? Did no villagers object?”

“No one objected!” Miller said with a smile. “The giant brick kiln consumes a huge amount of firewood every day, turning many hills bald. Viscount Randell publicly announced that he would plant this crop on those bald hills for the villagers to take freely as a wild resource.”

“Lord Randal is truly a benevolent and generous lord!”

“…” Bishop Pello fell silent, his expression turning from sunny to overcast.

Providing relief aid to the people had always been an important means for the Church to harvest faith. Half a piece of moldy black bread or a bowl of thin wheat porridge could perhaps create a devout believer. Large-scale relief efforts were particularly effective, but even with the Church’s financial resources, they couldn’t organize them frequently. Bishop Saen used the Spiked Kidney Beans from the south-central lords to organize large-scale relief efforts every year, earning praise from the Church annually. Now, it was finally his turn, and Viscount Randell was actually giving the Spiked Kidney Beans to the villagers for free!

Although the villagers of the Randell Fief were mostly refugee laborers, Pello was absolutely certain they would use the Spiked Kidney Beans to feed their pigs!

No matter how many Spiked Kidney Beans a pig ate, could it provide faith?

Miller’s admiring expression made it clear that there was nothing to fault in Viscount Randell’s actions, but Bishop Pello felt as uncomfortable as if he had swallowed a fly.

On second thought, this might be a ploy by Sylvia, which made Pello even more depressed. Just then, a church attendant ran over, panting, and shouted, “Master Miller, the people for prayer have all arrived. We’re just waiting for you to preside over the service.”

“My lord, this afternoon’s service is about to begin. Would you like to preside personally?” Miller asked with a bow.

“Miller, tell me, what is this ‘service’?” Bishop Pello demanded, his voice stern and sharp.

The Church had strict regulations for prayer rituals, divided into morning and evening prayers. During the day, believers were supposed to work, and any sporadic prayers were to be done on their own. Only when a generous donation was made would a priest come out to receive the faithful. For Miller to create some inexplicable “service” was treading on the Church’s bottom line.

Seeing the bishop’s grim expression, Miller hastily explained, “My lord, the service is just the evening prayer. There are just a lot of people…”

“Evening prayer is evening prayer, why call it a ‘service’? And it’s not time for evening prayer yet!” Pello’s expression eased slightly as he asked coldly.

“My lord, it’s like this,” Miller said. “Viscount Randell established a rule long ago that the people should rest for one day after a period of work. To support my missionary work, he designated the rest day, which occurs once every twelve days, as the Day of Worship. There are three Days of Worship each month. On the Day of Worship, all the people of the Randell Fief, including vassals and nobles, must go to the Church for morning and evening prayers. If someone is unable to attend due to work, Viscount Randell will donate one Silver Sol per person as an offering on their behalf. Er… for nobles, it’s one Gold Sol.”

Pello was suddenly shaken. Prayers held in a church were a means of extracting holy power, touching upon the very source of a cleric’s strength. For the Church, organizing morning and evening prayers was the most important task.

Pinnacle Knights connected to the Elemental Sea to gain extraordinary power, while clergy had to connect to a mysterious Pool of Holy Power and draw divine arts from it. The Pool of Holy Power was the Lord of Radiance’s gift to the clergy. Priests organized believers to pray, transmitting the power of faith to the Lord of Radiance through the church, and the Lord of Radiance converted this faith into holy power, injecting it into the Pool.

Low-rank clergy didn’t need to connect to the Pool of Holy Power to cast low-rank divine arts up to the second rank, but mid-rank clergy had to connect to the Pool to cast divine arts of the third rank and above. A cleric’s advancement was also closely tied to the Pool of Holy Power.

A second-rank priest who gradually comprehended the true meaning of the doctrine through presiding over church affairs, and who possessed an unshakable conviction along with sufficient merit, could travel to the Holy See. There, through an advancement ceremony, they would connect to the Pool of Holy Power and gain the authority to cast third-rank divine arts. Because the divine arts in the Pool were arranged in order, those of the third rank and above placed the least burden on a priest’s body, which was why high-ranking clergy lived much longer than their low-ranking counterparts.

Sacred Warriors advanced in the same way. Only Paladins were an exception, but every mid-rank cleric had to use the holy power from the Pool, and the Pool of Holy Power had its limits. Therefore, the more believers there were, the more faith they provided, the more abundant the Pool’s power became, and the more clergy there could be.

However, the Lord of Radiance only converted faith transmitted through a church into holy power. Believers who were far from a church, no matter how devoutly they prayed, could not increase the power of the Pool. The Church didn’t have enough priests to assign one to every village. Yet those villagers prayed every day. The Church could only resort to using White crystals to collect the dissipated holy power, then have high-ranking clergy inscribe divine arts into them, turning them into divine art crystals. However, inscribing these crystals shortened the lifespan of high-ranking priests, and the White crystals themselves would shatter after two uses. Left with no other choice, the Church required priests to gather as many believers as possible to pray in the church. For exceptionally remote villages, a priest could only visit once every ten to fifteen days, mainly to reassure the believers and collect holy power with the crystals.

Although Viscount Randell’s proposed Day of Worship couldn’t completely prevent the loss of dissipated faith, it greatly increased the efficiency of collecting holy power, would produce more devout believers, and directly impacted the Pool of Holy Power! If the Day of Worship could be promoted widely, it would be a momentous event for the Church!

Pello forcefully calmed his racing heart and asked in a trembling voice, “The farthest village in the Randell Fief is a day’s journey from Laketon. How can those villagers get to Laketon to attend the service?”

“The Randell Fief has public carriages connecting every village so the villagers can ride them to Laketon. On the Day of Worship, the number of public carriages is also increased to ensure every villager can reach the Church in time,” Miller replied.

Bishop Pello praised loudly, “Praise be to my Lord! Viscount Randell is a genius blessed by our Lord!”

“Lord Randal will surely be bathed in our Lord’s glory!” Miller prayed softly, his eyes lowered.

Mid-rank clergy were sworn to keep the secret of the Pool of Holy Power. All low-rank priests were unaware of its existence, and commoner priests would forever remain low-rank priests. But how could this deceive Miller? Miller had long ago told Victor the truth about the Pool, which had led to the creation of the Day of Worship. As for the tenets of the Radiant Code, what could they do to him? Miller only needed to raise a call, and even the Pope would have to kneel at his feet. It was just that his ambitions were too grand, and he had no time to play house with the Church.

Pello’s eyes gleamed as his imagination ran wild, while Miller wore a slyly smug look. Neither of them could have known what Victor’s various measures were truly changing, nor what impact they would have.

The census of the refugee population, the encouragement of childbirth, the medical teams, and the public carriages were all for the sake of strengthening central control over the regions. Children, like blank sheets of paper, were the easiest to indoctrinate with centralized ideology. As long as Victor perfected the education system, these children would grow up to be the most loyal subjects of the House of Randell. And faith had always accompanied centralized rule throughout the dynasties of Huaxia. The Day of Worship could lull the Church into a false sense of security, giving the House of Randell time to grow.

Victor was using this very method to pry loose the first brick from the high altar of divine power.

You want faith? I shall give you faith. As for whether royal power or divine power will prevail—we shall see in twenty years.

Chapter 279: Fruition

The next day.

Bishop Pello deliberately postponed his journey to stay in Laketon. He still had some questions about the public carriage and wanted to ask for Victor’s opinion.

While the Bishop waited anxiously for Victor, Victor himself was just beginning to discuss business with Sylvia.

On the east side of Golden Oak Manor was an eight-mu stream reservoir. The artificial lake was not large, but the scenery was breathtaking. The air was pure and invigorating, and the tranquil surface of the lake was like a mirror, reflecting the straight, golden Hemlocks that lined its banks. A path paved with green bricks wound between the shore and the woods, dotted with benches for visitors to rest upon.

Sylvia and Victor strolled along the lakeside. Today, she was dressed in a blue noblewoman’s hunting attire. She wore no coronet to signify her status, and her golden hair was simply tied back in a ponytail. Her simple, chic outfit was less stately and noble than usual, making her feel more approachable and easygoing.

“The scenery here is lovely.”

Sylvia stopped before a bench. Her well-trained attendants swiftly cleared the fallen leaves from its surface, unfolded a small, round table, and served pastries and candied fruit. They even lit a small furnace and began to brew coffee.

In a matter of moments, a lakeside lounge appeared before Victor’s eyes. Sylvia picked up a piece of Snow Sugar candied fruit and smiled. “My dear, aren’t you going to sit down?”

Victor could never get used to the extravagant ways of the great nobles. He sat down beside Sylvia and teased, “Actually, the Snow Sugar candied fruit is preserved with raw sugar…”

“It’s quite sweet,” Sylvia said, taking a silk handkerchief from an attendant to wipe her delicate fingers. She continued, “I never thought you would actually form a Swiftbird light cavalry.”

Victor’s heart skipped a beat, but he just grunted noncommittally. Sylvia shot him a sidelong glance and said slowly, “I believe the Divine Notarization we signed also included Swiftbirds…”

Seeing that he couldn’t bluff his way through, Victor said helplessly, “I haven’t bred enough Swiftbirds yet. I can supply them to you in a couple of years, how about that?”

“Hehe, I just love seeing you look so pained yet helpless,” Sylvia said with a charming laugh. “You can relax. I have no interest at all in your flashy but impractical Swiftbird light cavalry.”

The York family had clearly been unable to solve the Swiftbird’s weight-bearing problem. Just as Victor breathed a sigh of relief, he heard Sylvia say, “I have 427 Swiftbirds here. Do you want them?”

“How do you have so many Swiftbirds?”

Victor was startled. He asked suspiciously, “Since you look down on Swiftbird cavalry, why did you raise more than four hundred of them?”

“The Centaur Hills are vast. You don’t think the Randell Fief is the only place with Swiftbirds, do you?” Sylvia raised an eyebrow. “After I obtained the method for taming Swiftbirds, I sent people to hunt the remaining ones in the Centaur Hills. Including the nineteen pairs you sent me, I collected a total of 156 Swiftbirds and raised them in what was then Black Fortress Town. After a few years, their numbers grew to over four hundred.”

“No wonder…” Victor nodded.

In the beginning, the Randell Fief had nearly three hundred first-generation Swiftbirds. After the fall of Hill Camp, most were tragically killed by the Ant-men. Only some eighty-odd Swiftbirds managed to escape into the mountains, luckily surviving the disaster. Victor had expended great effort to recapture them. Since Black Fortress Town had never been breached by the Ant-men, the number of Swiftbirds raised by the York family had actually surpassed the flock at the mountain stronghold.

Sylvia continued, “I never intended to form a Swiftbird light cavalry. My goal was to use Swiftbirds to cultivate an aberrant war beast.”

“Unfortunately, the aberrant rat that Bruce and Nicole brought back from the Great Marsh wasn’t aberrant enough. Its flesh couldn’t induce Aberration in ordinary creatures at all.” Shaking her head, she said, “The Swiftbird’s carrying capacity is too poor. It can only serve as a mount for scouts and messengers… How about I give you all these Swiftbirds to make your force look more impressive?”

Victor’s voice was grave as he asked, “What are your terms?”

“Raw sugar.” Sylvia held out an exquisite, jade-like hand. “Sell me sixty percent of the Randell Fief’s raw sugar quota, and all 427 Swiftbirds are yours.”

“Raw sugar?” Victor frowned.

Raw sugar was a condiment for commoners. The Randell Fief’s wholesale price was a mere four Copper Sols per pound, and even the highest retail price never exceeded one Silver Sol. Still, most commoners could not afford it. Currently, the Randell Fief had 505,337 mu of Purple Cane forest. With an average yield of seven tons of Purple Cane per mu and a rotational harvest of 5,000 mu per year, the sugar yield was seven percent. This resulted in an annual production of 2,450 tons of raw sugar, equivalent to 5.39 million pounds. Over the past three years, Victor had only sold a total of 2.82 million pounds of raw sugar, earning 8,700 Gold Sols, while the stockpiled sugar exceeded 13.35 million pounds!

The massive inventory was suffocating Victor. If not for brewing Purple Cane wine, he would have stopped producing raw sugar long ago. Now, Sylvia was asking to buy sixty percent of it, a deal worth roughly 24,000 Gold Sols, and she was throwing in 400 Swiftbirds for free! Victor couldn’t have wished for a better deal. However, since the request came from Sylvia… he had to weigh it carefully.

“My dear, what do you need so much raw sugar for?”

“I’m helping you get rid of your surplus. What’s with that look? Are you selling or not?”

“Not selling!”

Sylvia’s brows shot up. She pinched Victor’s cheek and demanded, “Why not?”

A beautiful woman’s light, feigned anger held a unique charm. Victor captured Sylvia’s delicate hand, kissed it, and said with a grin, “My dear, if you truly wanted to get raw sugar from me, you wouldn’t use such a direct method. Besides, you don’t lack for raw sugar at all.”

“Go on, what good news do you have for me?”

Watching Victor’s smug expression, Sylvia smiled radiantly. Her tense, jade-like features softened as if a frozen river thawed and a rose burst into bloom. She shook her head and said, “You really do understand me…”

“A while ago, Sophia’s merchant association approached me, hoping to purchase raw sugar. They offered a price of six Copper Sols per pound, with no limit on the quantity. As for the reason, they didn’t hide it from me. The Sasan Empire is engaged in field battles with the beastmen, and they’ve discovered that raw sugar makes for an excellent supply. It’s easy to carry, can quickly restore a soldier’s stamina, and effectively alleviates hunger. Therefore, the Sasan Empire has classified raw sugar as a strategic material and wants to purchase it in large quantities… I made a mistake back then; I didn’t include raw sugar in the Divine Notarization.”

Sylvia feigned annoyance, then smiled. “Victor, congratulations. You now control a strategic material!”

Victor nearly wept. He had always believed that the value of Purple Cane was immeasurable, but he never expected that while the sugar itself wouldn’t sell, the dregs would become a sought-after commodity. Four years had passed, and the function of raw sugar was finally known. The time for the Purple Cane industry to bear fruit had arrived. Unfortunately, the Randell Fief once had several million mu of Purple Cane forest. After the Ant-man plague, only 500,000 mu remained. After three years of natural spread, it had only grown by a mere 5,337 mu. It would take at least seventeen years to restore it to the scale of a million mu.

Victor took a deep breath and said seriously, “We have mastered a strategic material!”

“That’s right. We!” Sylvia said with a light laugh. “But for the next twenty years, the raw sugar trade is yours to control.”

After discovering the value of Purple Cane, the York family had searched everywhere for more. They had indeed found numerous scattered Purple Cane forests in the nooks and crannies of the Centaur Hills, totaling no more than 600,000 mu, of which only over 80,000 mu now remained. The York family treasured these Purple Cane forests, assigning special guards to watch over them, constantly clearing nearby weeds to allow the cane to spread freely. Without a twenty-year recovery period, the York family would never harvest this Purple Cane.

Victor was astonished that Sylvia had no intention of involving herself in the raw sugar trade for the next two decades! One must remember, Purple Cane grows back after being cut. Even harvesting 20,000 mu annually would bring in 140,000 Gold Sols in revenue, which was no small sum.

Victor sighed, “Sylvia, your breadth of mind and spirit are truly admirable!”

Sylvia pursed her lips and smiled. “No need to flatter me. Since I said I won’t interfere, I won’t meddle in your raw sugar business.” After a pause, she asked, “Before long, a trusted steward of Sophia’s will arrive in Laketon to negotiate the purchase of raw sugar. What do you plan to do?”

An idea sparked in Victor’s mind. “What price did Sophia set for the Sassans?”

“I hear it’s four Silver Sols per pound of raw sugar.”

“Buying at six Copper Sols and selling at four Silver Sols… that’s a twenty-four-fold profit… what a windfall!” Victor shook his head and said, “Then they don’t need to come looking for me!”

“Oh?” Sylvia’s eyes glinted. “The price is negotiable, of course, but I must remind you that a strategic material is not an ordinary commodity. Its impact goes beyond profit alone. If you raise the price of raw sugar, the Sassans will raise the price of green wheat in response. This is not what I want to see, nor is it what the Royal Family desires. You will be under immense pressure!”

“I understand,” Victor nodded. “I agree to the price of six Copper Sols per pound, but they must purchase the raw sugar in Wildwillow City. The reason is simple: we must support the commercial status of Bryat’s fief!”

“However, I will harvest at most 8,000 mu of Purple Cane forest a year. Sophia can get ten million pounds of raw sugar this year, but only a quota of four million pounds per year after that. As for the rest of the raw sugar, I will set a new price!”

Sylvia nodded in agreement. “The more Purple Cane you harvest, the more tax you pay. I was going to remind you of that even if you didn’t mention it.”

There was no escaping the tithe for the Randell Fief next year. Now that raw sugar had become a strategic material, the Gambis Royal Family would also be watching it closely. It seemed a twenty percent tax was also unavoidable. By that calculation, 8,000 mu of Purple Cane would yield only 8.62 million pounds of raw sugar. After giving four million pounds to Sophia, that left 4.62 million pounds. Once the major merchant associations from other kingdoms came for their piece of the pie, there would be basically none left. However, Victor planned to release at most three million pounds of raw sugar onto the market. The rest, he would smuggle!

A twenty-four-fold profit—how could Victor not be envious? When other kingdoms discovered they could buy a scarce strategic material from unlicensed merchants, how could they not protect the smuggling caravans? Once the smuggling caravans grew strong, Victor would increase his raw sugar production, establishing a monopoly. Of course, the rugged mountain roads couldn’t transport huge quantities of raw sugar, but Victor already had a comprehensive plan for smuggling bulk goods, and the Church would play a key role in it!

“Looks like I need to have a talk with Bishop Pello, and make a trip to Raven Town to expand the northern smuggling caravans!”

As Victor thought about this, a smile crept onto his face. Sylvia, beside him, asked, “My dear, what are you thinking about?”

“Uh… A huge sum of money is about to come in. Of course, I’m happy.”

Victor was in high spirits. He said to Sylvia, “My dear, if you entrust all those Swiftbirds to me, I will provide Goldwater City with at least sixty Swiftbird mounts every year. And I guarantee I’ll have a surprise for you!”

“Of course. You’ve always been full of surprises. I trust you’ll give me many more.”

Sylvia’s voice was tender yet brooked no refusal as she said, “My dear, I would like to visit your Hill Camp now. You wouldn’t refuse me, would you?!”

Victor’s expression instantly froze. Seeing this, Sylvia smiled. “I can give you some time to prepare. Are two hours enough?”

Victor stood up and gracefully extended his hand to Sylvia.

“No need to prepare. We can leave right now!”

Chapter 280: Technology Sharing (Part 1)

Everyone in the Randell Fief knew of a forbidden ground, a fortified village built atop a flat-topped hill. Without a personal order from the lord, no one was permitted to approach. The Hill Camp was situated on steep terrain, bristling with outposts and heavily guarded. Within a radius of two hundred kilometers, four patrol teams circulated without rest. Anyone who trespassed by mistake would be warned the first time. The second time, they would surely be expelled from the Randell Fief. There was never a third time; no sane person would risk their life to challenge the authority of the lord’s family.

Out of awe for their lord, the hired freemen called this forbidden place Randell’s Secret Fortress.

In truth, “secret fortress” was a generic name the freemen used for any lord’s forbidden area. Many fiefs had similar fortresses, which might be a castle, a manor, or a fortified village, and they often housed the lord’s most important workshops.

Randell’s Secret Fortress was not entirely mysterious. Many hired freemen had transported supplies for it, so they naturally knew what was being produced inside. At the base of the hill was a transfer yard where cart drivers would haul in all sorts of common goods and transport out various weapons and armor, Purple Cane wine, raw sugar, Snow Sugar, coffee, potions, and so on. The Randell Fief had recently begun mining an iron deposit, and iron ore was shipped to the fortress daily. Over a hundred people now worked at the transfer yard, handling the loading and unloading. They even frequently saw the cart drivers who were responsible for transport within the fortress. However, they never greeted each other, much less tried to cozy up to one another by offering to help with their work.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

The ground trembled slightly. To the astonishment of the loaders, a contingent of Swiftbird light cavalry escorted a magnificent red copper carriage straight toward Randell’s Secret Fortress. The guards in the outpost did not obstruct them; instead, they had cleared the roadblock long in advance.

“Stop gawking! That must be My Lord’s carriage! Everyone get back to work!” the steward shouted. The transfer yard once again returned to its usual hustle and bustle.

The Giant Rhinoceros Beast pulled the carriage across the heavy drawbridge and through the main gate of the Hill Camp. The carriage came to a steady halt. The driver set down a footstool, knocked on the carriage door, and Sylvia descended, taking Victor’s arm.

“So this is your Hill Camp?” Sylvia looked around and smiled. “It seems to be hiding many secrets.”

The two-square-kilometer Hill Camp was divided into many separate areas by three-meter-high fences, resembling a labyrinth and giving it a very mysterious feel. It did indeed hold many secrets. Besides the Alchemy Tower, it also contained a giant brick kiln, Fishmen breeding ponds, large-scale furnaces, a potion workshop, a blacksmith shop, a carpentry workshop, animal pens, a wine cellar, and storerooms. Eighty Alchemical auxiliary soldiers and one hundred twenty Lithe Ape militiamen were engaged in various production activities in different zones. Their products and techniques, of course, originated from the Alchemical Empire.

Though the Hill Camp held many secrets, they weren’t so great that they couldn’t be seen by others. The Alchemy Tower was merely a cave. The outer side of the rock brick city wall was concealed by an Iron-oak fence, while the inner side was just ordinary green brick; no one would be able to spot anything unusual. As for the Alchemical humans, who would believe these flesh-and-blood people were unnatural-born creatures? The only jarring sight was the Fishmen breeding ponds, but even that wasn’t a huge deal. The Church and the Silver Spire raised countless monsters, and Master Edwin himself had once captured a Half-dragon.

Victor didn’t know why Sylvia wanted to tour the Hill Camp, but he didn’t mind revealing some of his technology to the York family. This was mainly because the techniques mastered by the Alchemical humans mostly involved the processing and utilization of natural resources. They didn’t touch upon the theories of alchemical civilization and weren’t beyond the scope of this era. Even if he revealed them, it wouldn’t shock anyone to death, let alone expose the secret of the Alchemy Tower.

For example, the Alchemical auxiliary soldiers had mastered thirty-seven formulas for hemostatic potions. In the Silver Spire, pharmacology was already a major field of study, with an overwhelming number of potion formulas for all sorts of functions. Hemostatic potions were merely the most basic among them. They had even invented healing potions with far superior effects. As for berserk potions that stimulated a person’s latent potential or cleansing potions that purified bloodlines, the Alchemical humans had no such formulas.

The difference was that the Alchemical humans’ methods for making hemostatic potions were simple and low-cost, using locally sourced materials. Many seemingly useless or toxic plants and animals could be used for their styptic properties. In contrast, the potion formulas known to scholars ranged from simple to complex, with the most effective healing potions even requiring Dragon-Lizard blood. If Alchemical humans were to capture a Dragon-Lizard, they would only carefully preserve its blood and hand it over to an Alchemist.

Therefore, the Alchemical humans’ potion formulas prioritized resource gathering. Firstly, they helped the Alchemical humans heal wounds, neutralize poisons, and restore their mobility. Secondly, they were used for capturing different creatures. Thirdly, some herbs had to be processed quickly as they couldn’t be stored for long—Restoration Potions fell into this category. The Alchemical humans knew nothing of potions that didn’t fit these principles, such as berserk potions, cleansing potions, or sleeping potions. In comparison, the Spire’s pharmacology was a self-contained system with a complete theoretical foundation and practical value, possessing far greater potential for development.

The technologies within the Alchemical humans’ Will Side all shared a common trait: they lacked theoretical backing, making them stagnant pools of knowledge, particularly easy to imitate. But even modern civilized societies couldn’t eliminate technological plagiarism, let alone this world, which had no patent laws.

Technology is only valuable when put to use. If one were to shelve it away to gather dust out of fear of it being stolen, wouldn’t that be ridiculous?

The correct approach was to cultivate one’s own talent, improve research and development capabilities by copying others’ technologies, and constantly innovate. The House of Randell currently lacked R&D capabilities, but the York family had talent! The giant brick kiln, after being redesigned by Intendant Anthony, had seen its production efficiency increase more than threefold.

Plagiarism was inevitable, and it would be done by everyone! That being the case, he might as well leverage his allies’ R&D capabilities for greater benefits. Even if Sylvia hadn’t come to the Hill Camp, Victor would have chosen some technologies to offer the York family. Of course, they would provide corresponding compensation in return.

“My dear, the secrets in here are beyond your imagination,” Victor said honestly. “I’ll show you the fruits of the House of Randell’s labor right now!”

“Oh?” Sylvia turned to her retainers and instructed, “All of you wait here for me. Do not stray far from the carriage!”

“As you command, My Lady.”

The York family’s retainers bowed. Sylvia took Victor’s arm and followed him through a wooden gate to the left. Just as they entered, they saw several hounds. Some wagged their tails, some lay lazily on the ground, and others barked ferociously, posturing as if to pounce. Victor called out to an Alchemical militia guard, “Someone, get these dogs out of here.”

“Wait.” Sylvia stared at the hounds for a moment, then asked, “You’re breeding hounds?”

“I am,” Victor nodded.

Sylvia asked, displeased, “Were the Satyr Hounds I gave you not to your satisfaction?”

Everyone, from nobles to commoners, was enthusiastic about animal taming, with hounds being the most common, of course. The hounds raised in various towns and villages numbered from fifty or sixty to over a hundred. This was not just for the convenience of hunting and herding, but more importantly, for the safety of the settlements. Traveling caravans, mercenary companies, and groups of refugees also commonly brought guard dogs with them. Gradually, breeding excellent hounds became a symbol of a lordly family’s heritage, and the York family’s Satyr Hounds were a prime example.

The Satyr Hound was muscular, strong, and powerful. Although not as fierce or belligerent as the Godzilla Bear-hound, its stamina and endurance were outstanding. Coupled with its tenacious and resolute nature, its combat prowess was in no way inferior to the Bear-hound’s. Moreover, the Satyr Hound’s rate of entering a Savage state was second only to the Godzilla Bear-hound, with an average of one Savage hound appearing for every three hundred. Many families hoped to obtain a purebred Satyr Hound, its price higher than that of three bulls.

Sylvia had been very generous, gifting Victor one hundred Satyr Hounds to help the Randell Fief clear out wild beasts. However, the Satyr Hound’s family traits were too distinct, making them unsuitable as guard dogs for the smuggling caravans. Victor was more interested in breeding a Ranger hound that was perceptive, hardy, brave, and tenacious. Using Prairie Tiku hounds, the Mountain Guard Dogs of the mountain folk, and common hounds, he had bred several hundred crossbreeds over three years. Among them were some relatively good guard dogs, but the new breed was still far from being stabilized.

Victor hadn’t expected Sylvia to get upset over such a small matter. He pondered for a moment before saying, “The Hill Camp is my proving ground. You shouldn’t be surprised by anything you see here.”

“Proving ground?”

“Yes.” Victor nodded. “I have no council of advisors, no scholars. All of the Randell Fief’s inventions are the result of constant trial, error, and experimentation. The Spire, the Church, and all the lords place great importance on animal taming. I’ve heard the Teutonic Duchy can even raise Moon Bears as war beasts. Isn’t it perfectly normal for me to breed hounds?”

Sylvia remained noncommittal and silent. Victor smiled, “My dear, breeding hounds is trivial. The key is the trial, error, and experimentation.”

“Come! I’ll show you something truly special!”

Around a fence was the Fishmen breeding pond. Three large pits were dug into the ground. In the leftmost pit, dozens of Fishmen shrieked and writhed, clearly in great pain. The mucus they secreted had turned the pool’s water into a thick slurry. Once the Fishmen were on the verge of death and no longer moving, the Alchemical militia stationed on the bank used hooked poles to pull them out one by one, rinsed their bodies with fresh water, and finally tossed them into the pool of clean water on the right.

“You sent people to capture Fishmen just for this disgusting mucus? What is Fishmen mucus used for?”

Several “farmers” carefully collected the mucus from the pool into wooden buckets. Sylvia couldn’t help but furrow her shapely brows.

The guards at the sluice gate often saw soldiers of House of Randell heading to the riverbank to capture Fishmen. Noble scholars frequently sent people to capture all sorts of strange creatures to study their habits and value, so it wasn’t surprising that Viscount Randell would capture a few Fishmen. But to do so every month, capturing more each time, was somewhat unusual.

Sylvia had received the guards’ reports and had also been very curious. It was only today that she finally understood why Victor wanted to capture Fishmen.

“Mortar mixed with Fishmen mucus is much better than ordinary mortar…” Victor revealed all the properties of the new mortar.

After listening, Sylvia said with a complex expression, “No wonder… Victor, do you know what this new mortar means?”

“With this new mortar and rock bricks, Master Edwin can start considering how to build a giant fortress that exceeds the sixty-meter limit,” Victor said calmly. Some things could be shared, but some secrets must never be revealed, such as the design for a giant fortress nearly a hundred meters tall… And then he heard Sylvia say, “There are already giant fortresses that exceed sixty meters!”

“What?”

Sylvia nodded slightly. “Twenty years ago, the Kingdom of Borea successfully constructed a seventy-two-meter-high fortress. Many lords have been trying to find out the secret… Now I know. It was the Fishmen mucus.”

“Perhaps the Boreans started using Fishmen mucus as long as eighty years ago.” Sylvia thought for a moment and said, “In the past, ships built by the Boreans would start leaking in less than ten years. But in recent decades, their shipbuilding techniques have advanced significantly, and they’ve begun constructing large vessels capable of carrying two hundred people. It was the advent of these large ships that spurred the Boreans to colonize the Southern Continent. I suspect that Borean scholars used Fishmen mucus to create an adhesive, solving the problem of leaking ships.”

Victor sighed inwardly. This world was never short of intelligent people. In the same general environment, there was no technology that could crush all others. Things you understood, others might not, but things you could make, others could make too. If you just clung to your little plot of land, content with what you had and unwilling to innovate, sooner or later, you’d be eliminated!

This made Victor even more resolute in his idea of trading a little for a lot, of using others’ resources to fuel his own growth. He said, “I have more than just mortar here!” With that, he turned to an Alchemical militiaman and called out, “White, go fetch a suit of Vine-hide armor and a suit of Vine-silk soft armor.”

Chapter 281: Technology Sharing (Part 2)

A piece of leather armor and a suit of soft armor woven from vine-silk were placed before Sylvia. She picked up the vine-silk armor with great interest and said, “This vine armor is meticulously woven and very sturdy, just a little on the thin side.”

“Indeed.” Victor nodded. “The vine armor made by the Mountain folk is almost as good as chainmail, and superior in terms of weight and production cost. Unfortunately, its durability is too poor; it will grow moldy and rot in less than two or three years. The vine-silk inner armor is a bit thin, but what if you embedded it within hard leather armor?”

“Hmm?” Sylvia took the Vine-hide armor and, with a lift of her hand, tore it. With a s-s-shlick, the tough Vine-hide armor ripped as easily as paper mâché in her small, fair, and delicate hands, making Victor’s heart jump into his throat.

“A truly remarkable design!” Sylvia carefully examined the internal structure of the Vine-hide armor and praised, “This Vine-hide armor is much more protective than hard leather armor, enough to withstand a volley from a longbow. Paired with chainmail, even a crossbow from fifty meters away would be useless against it.”

“And that’s not all,” Victor said with a smile. “Ordinary hard leather armor is made of two layers of cowhide sewn together. No matter how fine the craftsmanship, there will always be gaps between the layers of leather. If exposed to rain for long periods, its lifespan is drastically shortened. A typical suit of hard leather armor must be replaced after four years.”

“Vine-hide armor is bonded together with a special glue, leaving no seams. I estimate it can be used for at least seven or eight years. How much money would that save?”

Sylvia held up one half of the torn Vine-hide armor and inspected it closely. Indeed, she found no trace of stitching. “Is this glue also made from Fishman mucus?” she asked.

“Of course,” Victor said. “Ordinary adhesives are susceptible to moisture, but Fishman mucus doesn’t have that weakness. Otherwise, the Boreans’ ships would still leak.”

“The glue for the Vine-hide armor is made from Fishman mucus, fish glue, the juice of Corrupt-Heart Grass, and flour paste.”

“Corrupt-Heart Grass? But that’s a highly poisonous plant!” Sylvia said in astonishment.

Victor explained, “Corrupt-Heart Grass is not only highly toxic, but its juice is also highly corrosive—though it has no effect on plants. A moderate amount of Corrupt-Heart Grass juice won’t damage the vine-silk soft armor. It can, however, slightly corrode the surface of the cowhide, allowing the pieces to bond more easily, leaving not a single gap, as if they were a single, solid piece.”

“The glue formula—I want it!” Sylvia declared decisively.

“My dear, don’t be so hasty. There are many more good things to see.”

Victor gave a mysterious smile and began to lead Sylvia on a grand tour.

“Black Awn Flower powder. If it gets on your skin, it causes an unbearable itch. It can be used to induce Fishmen to secrete mucus.”

“Oilcloth. It’s exceptionally waterproof and can be used to make umbrellas.”

“Bristle brushes. Yes… this one isn’t so rare; everyone uses bristle brushes to clean armor. But we have more pigs than others, don’t we? Once we’ve bred domestic pigs, their bristles will be softer than a wild boar’s, and much more useful! They can be made into paintbrushes… and toothbrushes. My dear, believe me, pig bristles will make us a lot of money!”

“Hemostatic Ointment… uh, its only advantage is that it’s extremely cheap. You just have to pound together earthworms and Earth-Root Grass.”

“Paralysis Potion. It may not be very effective against strong monsters and beasts, but it can help soldiers relieve pain.”

“Stone Orchid solution. It can make fine twine woven from sisal elastic, allowing it to be used as a substitute for bowstrings.”

The dazzling array of new technologies and formulas left Sylvia bewildered. At first, she was able to ask questions, but now she could only listen to Victor’s enthusiastic explanations, as she didn’t recognize many of the materials.

“My dear, did you invent all of these?” Sylvia asked, seizing a moment when Victor paused for breath, bringing the whirlwind tour to a halt.

Victor shook his head. “I don’t have that much time, nor am I a scholar. I can’t even name many of these things… They invented these technologies.”

Following Victor’s pointing finger, Sylvia glanced around at the “commoners” hard at work. “Commoners?” she said in surprise.

“You don’t believe me?” Victor asked in return.

Sylvia simply smiled without a word. Of course she knew Victor couldn’t have come up with so many inventions. She was more inclined to believe he had obtained technologies from the old Marquess Wimbledon’s collection.

“Bring Hale over here,” Victor ordered a Lithe Ape militiaman.

A short while later, Alchemical auxiliary soldier Hale walked over. He bowed to Victor and said, “My lord, you sent for me.”

“Yes. You can go now. Return to your work.”

“Oh.” The Alchemical auxiliary soldier turned and left, completely unaware that he had just been made a prop in their conversation.

Meeting Sylvia’s questioning gaze, Victor explained, “I was afraid you’d kill him.”

Sylvia didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Am I that vicious? Besides, he’s just a lowly commoner.”

“What if I told you that Hale was the one who invented rock bricks? What would you do then?” Victor asked. Sylvia fell silent for a moment before slowly replying, “At first, I certainly would have killed him. But now, I wouldn’t.”

“This is the difference between you and me,” Victor said with a nod. “It’s not that you don’t believe commoners can invent new technologies, but that you never give them the chance to.”

“When a freeman invents a unique potion formula, a lord’s first reaction isn’t to reward him, but to seize the secret formula and then silence him by killing him. But I am different! I am even different from the Church.”

“The Church will reward freemen, but I not only reward them, I also provide them with an environment for invention and creation.” Victor spread его his arms wide. “Right here, at Hill Camp. In the future, I will build a giant fortress here—Candlefort!”

“Four years ago, a villager under my rule discovered a method for raising ground lizards, and from that came lizard-skin wheels. Of course, wrapping wheels in animal hide is nothing new. But a continuous supply of farmed ground lizards—that is the greatest advantage of lizard-skin wheels.”

“Many freemen are illiterate and have limited experience, but they do not lack ingenuity. I give them opportunities, allowing them to constantly explore and experiment, and someone will always discover a new technology. That’s how Hale invented rock bricks. It was the same for the lizard-skin wheels, the Vine-hide armor, the potion formulas…”

“Hale not only invented rock bricks, he is also experimenting with different formulas. Recently, he successfully created a sturdier iron brick by mixing iron powder into it. If I had killed him back then, how would we have iron bricks now?”

Sylvia’s eyes lit up, and she smiled. “Well, that is certainly cause for celebration.”

“The York family is also trying to improve upon rock bricks, aren’t they?” Victor asked with a smile.

“That’s right,” Sylvia admitted with a nod, then added, “My dear, you have a point. However, for the secret of rock bricks, I would still choose to kill them to maintain secrecy.”

“Once rock bricks are made public, we truly won’t be able to keep the formula a secret. But rock bricks are of such great importance that they could change the entire landscape of the human kingdoms.” Sylvia’s expression turned serious. “Victor, when that time comes, even I won’t be able to withstand the pressure from all sides… How will you ensure the loyalty of these people?”

No one is more loyal than them!

Victor complained internally, but he said aloud, “Before the dust settles, I won’t let these people have any contact with the outside world. That should be acceptable, right?”

Sylvia sighed. “I hope so. To be honest, I’ve also built a secret fortified village similar to Hill Camp, specifically for producing rock bricks. Although the craftsmen are all sons of the York family’s vassals, even I can’t guarantee they won’t leak the secret.”

“It’s enough that we maintain our advantage.”

“You’re right.” Sylvia’s face brightened. “I’ll be taking all the fruits of Hill Camp with me. In return, I’ll give you the York family’s potion formulas, animal taming secret arts, and forging techniques. How about it?”

“As you wish!” Victor was overjoyed, then added, “We can share our technologies. For example, making Vine-hide armor requires Corrupt-Heart Grass. This plant is limited in number, which severely restricts the production of the armor. If the York family’s scholars can develop a substitute for Corrupt-Heart Grass, you must inform me. Of course, I will do the same and give any improved formulas to the York family.”

“A very wise approach,” Sylvia agreed.

Victor had one more important matter. The Alchemical humans only possessed knowledge of flora and fauna from tens of thousands of years ago. Some species were now extinct, and the names of those that survived had changed. It was now essential to update their knowledge.

“Also, I need the flora and fauna index compiled by the Silver Spire. My subordinates, after all, are not scholars. They all have different names for the plants and animals, so to facilitate communication, we must first standardize the names.”

“Of course, you can. However, you’ll have to pay a fee of three hundred Gold Sols. You must understand, having scholars transcribe the index is a troublesome business. It will take them at least a month,” Sylvia said with a smile.

“Can’t it be a little less?”

“Don’t even think about it.”

The two of them chatted and laughed, and before they knew it, they had arrived at the path leading to the upper camp. Sylvia asked, “My dear, what’s up there?”

Victor’s heart skipped a few beats. He feigned composure and said, “The workshops for making coffee and Snow Sugar are up there. Would you like to see them?”

Sylvia glanced at him, a faint, knowing smile on her lips. “In that case… let’s not.”

Victor breathed a sigh of relief, yet at the same time, felt a faint sense of disappointment. He was actually very curious about what would happen if a Pinnacle Knight were to walk into the Alchemy Tower, but after much thought, he decided it was best not to take the risk.

Sylvia was unaware of the thoughts turning in her lover’s mind. She stopped and asked, “My dear Victor, now that we’ve made the waterworks public, what do you think will happen to the situation in the Centaur Hills?”

“It’s looking very good,” Victor said. “The Church will provide aid, grain prices will fall, and many apprentice knights and sons of noble families will flock to the Centaur Hills.”

“The Church will aid the Centaur Hills, but not with supplies; the logistical losses from transporting goods are too great. It will likely be an interest-free loan. I imagine it won’t be less than one million Gold Sols. If it’s paid back over twenty years, that money is as good as a gift. As for grain prices…” Sylvia paused, then said, “My view is the exact opposite of yours. Grain prices will definitely rise over the next two years!”

Victor frowned. “Deep plowing and careful cultivation will increase grain yields. How can prices rise?”

“It is precisely because grain prices are destined to fall that they will rise for the next two years,” Sylvia explained.

Victor suddenly understood. The lords of Gambis, seeing the prospect of increased grain yields, would sell their new grain to the Centaur Hills, which needed more seeds and now had funding from the Church. The lords would seize the opportunity to make a huge profit.

“The greedy will suffer the consequences of their actions,” Victor said with a cold smile. “Deep plowing and careful cultivation can indeed increase grain yields, but that’s because it increases the planting-to-harvest ratio. Spelt is essentially half forage grass and half grain, and it’s very draining on the soil’s fertility. I’ve always insisted that no more than seventy pounds be sown per mu of land, keeping the yield within four hundred pounds per mu. To outsiders, it will look like we’re doing this because of a seed shortage. They won’t know that the consequence of overseeding is to render the land barren, and it won’t recover without being left fallow for two years. I’m confident that in three to five years, those lords will be buying grain from the Centaur Hills, and they’ll have to pay back everything they earned, and then some.”

“There’s such a thing? You’ve never mentioned this before.” Sylvia gave Victor a surprised look, then pursed her lips in a smile. “My dear, you are truly ruthless.”

Victor was feeling rather smug, but Sylvia continued, “I cannot agree with your methods. My dear Victor, ‘you hit me once, so I’ll hit you twice’—that’s the way of a scoundrel. The struggles and compromises between lords are mostly about reaching consensus; a life-and-death war is a last resort. The lords of Gambis are all in the same camp. Making a mess of the situation is not in our best interests.”

“As you said before, it’s enough that we hold the advantage! The rise of the Centaur Hills is unstoppable. We already have the bearing of a Dukedom. In twenty years, we will be second to none of the royal families!” Sylvia smiled sweetly. “I will inform the lords of Gambis of the risks and rewards of deep plowing and careful cultivation. If they still insist on raising grain prices, then we shall accept their terms.”

Victor gazed at Sylvia’s stunningly beautiful face. He had to admit that this woman’s breadth of mind and spirit was beyond his own.

Although Sylvia had taken much from Victor, the rewards she gave were equally generous. For example, she had asked him for one hundred fifty thousand Gold Sols to purchase Baron Eskri’s fief, but she had also secured one thousand square kilometers of territory and a castle for House of Randell from the Dodor people—a castle whose construction cost would be no less than seventy thousand Gold Sols. Most importantly, from the very beginning, Sylvia had given Victor complete freedom and respect, and she continued to do so now.

As his bedfellow, Sylvia could not be ignorant of the many secrets Victor was hiding, yet she never pried into the origin of the rock bricks, and she gave up the raw sugar trade without a second thought. Victor knew he could never bring himself to do the same.

“As you wish,” Victor said with deep emotion.

Sylvia nodded and asked nonchalantly, “There will certainly be sons of nobles flocking to the Centaur Hills. My dear, do you plan to recruit Knights?”

“Recruit Knights? No, I will not recruit Knights. Arrogant Knights have no place in House of Randell,” Victor said flatly.

Knights were only interested in being granted fiefs, and one Lordship for Narsen was enough for Randell Fief. Victor thought for a moment, then pointed to his own nose and said, “Randell Fief can accept the sons of some minor noble families, preferably down-on-their-luck nobles like myself.”

Sylvia burst out laughing, completely overjoyed.

The sluice gate on the Goldwater River had become the York family’s lifeline, making Randell Fief critically important. The thing Sylvia regretted most now was appointing Nicole as the lady of that domain. During the Trial of Life and Death, Nicole had been affected by the Elemental Sea and now saw Victor, who had saved her, as her spiritual anchor. If not for the need to keep Victor on a leash, Sylvia would never have let Nicole become his neighbor, but her clever plan had backfired. Victor was not a vassal lord of the York family. Although he was joined to them by a political marriage, his wife in name was, after all, Sophia. The impact of the waterworks was world-shaking, and Randell Fief had immediately become a vulnerability for the York family. Sylvia was certain the Royal Family would arrange for Knights to join House of Randell. Even if Victor could not be swayed, in a hundred years, the descendants of those Knights could influence the allegiance of House of Randell.

That was why Sylvia had been truly furious when she heard that Victor wouldn’t even let Nicole into Hill Camp. And when she learned that he was breeding his own hounds for House of Randell, despite already having Satyr Hounds, she was even more displeased.

It’s only been a few years, and you’re already thinking of drawing a clear line between yourself and our York family?!

Now, with Victor’s clear statement that he would not recruit Knights, a stone was finally lifted from Sylvia’s heart. As long as Randell Fief had no Knights, it would be much less of an obstacle for the York family to assimilate it in the future.

Sylvia took Victor’s arm and said cheerfully, “I must return to Goldwater City soon. Let’s go.”

The two of them walked hand in hand to the Giant Rhinoceros Beast carriage. Sylvia took a box from her attendant and handed it to Victor. Inside lay a white bone bead. “What’s this?” Victor asked curiously.

“The poison sac from a Manticore’s tail.” Sylvia reached up to smooth Victor’s hair and said softly, “The Royal Family turned Gambis upside down and captured many Sasan spies. Those spies have already sent news of you back to the Sasan Empire. Although the Church has warned the Sassans not to act rashly, you should still be careful. Ordinary assassins are no match for you. If the Sassans really want to assassinate you, they will most likely use poison. Holding the Manticore’s poison sac in your mouth can delay the onset of poison. That will give the resident priest enough time to use divine arts on you.”

“Are the Sassans really going to try and assassinate me?” Victor asked with a frown.

Sylvia smiled radiantly. “This is just a gift from me. It has nothing to do with the Sassans.”

Chapter 282: The Hidden Tail

Sylvia’s carriage had already departed into the distance.

On the road back to Laketon, Victor began to weigh the gains and losses of the past two days.

The greatest benefit was, without a doubt, the raw sugar. Victor had once hoped to make his fortune from sugarcane, yet he never expected that this sweet, nutrient- and energy-rich food would suffer from sluggish sales for a full four years before finally seeing the light of day. This was primarily because information traveled too slowly in this world, and raw sugar was not a necessity. In fact, Victor had originally thought it would take at least five to ten years for people to grow accustomed to eating it. To open up the market as quickly as possible, he had even sold it at a low price, sacrificing profits for the caravans and merchants.

That raw sugar would suddenly be designated a strategic material was both reasonable and unexpected. Nevertheless, Victor still hoped it would become a daily consumer good for the common people. After all, the Randell Fief had an enormous capacity for raw sugar production, while the soldiers’ consumption of it was relatively limited. The commoner market, on the other hand, was boundless. Victor was also preparing to package and grade the raw sugar to meet the needs of different classes and earn even greater profits.

Regardless, the major powers would now be vying to purchase raw sugar. Victor estimated that the annual sales revenue from it would be no less than sixty thousand Gold Sol, which would single-handedly solve the Randell family’s financial predicament. The thought of his inventory of over ten million pounds of raw sugar being wiped clean was as refreshing as eating ice cream on a hot summer day.

Another gain was the technology-sharing agreement with the York family. In a way, this was even more important than the raw sugar trade.

Due to the changing times, many of the Alchemical auxiliary soldiers’ technologies could not be directly applied. For example, the thorium heavy crossbow Busuo had made was a complete copy of a Dodor military design. The crossbow he designed himself was a full two sizes larger than the military version and lacked a windlass, relying purely on manual strength to draw. In the entire Randell Fief, only Narsen could draw that behemoth. Many of the Alchemical auxiliaries’ designs for equipment were oversized and unusable by ordinary people. Fortunately, Alchemical humans possessed the ability to learn and could easily replicate any piece of equipment. Most of the weapons, armor, crossbows, and catapults in the Randell Fief were imitations of military equipment provided by the York family.

The Alchemical auxiliaries were all top-tier craftsmen, but they were not scholars. Although they could learn and imitate, they had only fifteen-year lifespans and rigid minds. They would never innovate in their entire lives, nor could they even improve upon existing technology. The technology-sharing agreement could compensate for this deficiency. Victor would provide technology created by commoners, the York family’s scholars would make it practical, and the Alchemical auxiliaries would then replicate it. This was the most efficient method at present, and it would also cultivate technical talent for the House of Randell.

Sylvia’s peculiar attitude, however, left Victor baffled. She didn’t care about the profits from raw sugar and showed little enthusiasm for the technology sharing, yet she got angry over a few dogs. Then, when she heard that the House of Randell was not recruiting Knights, she was greatly pleased. The reasons for this were rather thought-provoking.

The almost machine-like thought process of his X-3 allowed Victor to see the decisiveness beneath Sylvia’s warm veil.

Victor was a gift from Sophia to Sylvia; all the major powers acknowledged this. In the beginning, Sylvia had entrusted a territory of over ten thousand square kilometers to Victor with a coddling attitude. Although she tried hard to create a relaxed and free environment for Victor’s growth, she would absolutely not allow him to betray her, much less allow the Randell Fief to break away from the York family’s control.

I’ll mark out a piece of land for you to play with. If you succeed, your success is my success. If you fail, I will be there to catch you.

Sylvia had never imagined that Victor would play such a big game—so big that other powers would be tempted to make a move, so big that she felt she might not be able to catch him. In Sylvia’s eyes, things like raw sugar, coffee, Snow Sugar, and new technologies were not as important as the Randell Fief itself.

No one would dare to brazenly snatch territory from a Spirit Knight, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t use infiltration tactics. Sylvia’s only fear was that Victor would truly see himself as an independent lord, giving other powers an opportunity. Thus, Victor breeding family hounds like an independent lord had struck a nerve with Sylvia.

But with the House of Randell refusing to recruit Knights, the situation was different.

Victor’s subordinates were only commoners, with no Knights. No Knights meant no true noble house. Viscount Randell was, in the end, a part of the York family, and the achievements of the House of Randell still belonged to the York family.

If, for instance, Victor had recruited family Knights, then no matter how short-staffed the York family was, Sylvia would have arranged for members of her own family to fill every level of the Randell Fief’s hierarchy.

The Randell Fief must remain attached to the York family! This was Sylvia’s bottom line. If that line was crossed, the relaxed and free environment of the House of Randell would be no more. X-3 deduced the worst-case scenario: Victor would take up permanent residence at Rose Manor, becoming the Queen of Roses’ consort and chief advisor, and would also have to engage in many indescribable activities with the York family’s female knights.

It is human nature to protect one’s own fruit, and there was nothing to blame in that. This was true for Sylvia, and for Victor as well. Though Victor had hypocritically claimed he would not interfere in the Briatte family’s internal affairs, if Judy were to collude with other powers, he would surely take even more drastic measures than Sylvia.

However, Victor also had his bottom line. He acknowledged that he was a part of the York family, but he would not accept the York family’s leadership. Sylvia could not imagine the scale of his ambition.

In the future, you will obediently be my woman, and I will reluctantly lead the York family to glory!

Immersed in his fantasy, Victor couldn’t help but reveal a sleazy smile.

Bright sunlight shone through the window, illuminating the entire study. In Bishop Pello’s eyes, the smile on Viscount Randell’s face was even more brilliant than the sun.

“Victor, have you thought of a solution?” Pello asked eagerly.

The system of worship in the Randell Fief was of great significance to the Church. Upon learning of it, Pello felt as if he had found a priceless treasure. However, after investigation and research, Pello discovered an unavoidable problem. If this problem was not solved, the system of worship could never be promoted, and even the Day of Worship in the Randell Fief would be short-lived. Pello was like a starving Goblin who had suddenly discovered a feast in a room; all he had to do was find the key to the door, and he could eat his fill. To find that key, Pello had stayed up all night without a single clue, but he would never give up.

Pello believed that since it was Viscount Randell who had shown him the feast, perhaps the Viscount himself had a way to open that door. Bishop Pello cast aside his reserve. The moment Victor returned, he followed right on his heels. After some pleasantries, Pello got straight to the point and laid the difficulty before Victor. Subsequently, Victor fell into deep thought. Bishop Pello was very patient, waiting for a quarter of an hour before finally seeing Viscount Randell’s brow relax into a confident smile.

Pello eagerly awaited Victor’s answer, little knowing that Victor had been daydreaming about conquering Sylvia, and even less aware that the so-called problem was merely one link in Victor’s grand plan.

“Ahem.” Victor cleared his throat and said sincerely, “Your Excellency Pello, if it weren’t for your reminder, I wouldn’t have realized that my reverence for the Supreme Lord would encounter such a setback.”

The greatest reverence you could show the Supreme Lord is to spit out your idea right now!

Pello thought this to himself, but what he said was, “Victor, the Supreme Lord shows the way for us all. Your reverence for the Supreme Lord is no coincidence. I firmly believe our Lord will guide you to the answer.”

“It’s difficult… but not impossible to solve.” Victor’s combined shake and nod of his head made Pello’s heart jump, putting him on pins and needles.

Victor continued, “Your Excellency Pello, you have seen the dual-purpose passenger and cargo carriage I designed. It is much larger than an ordinary carriage and can transport forty passengers at once. To pull so many people, one must use strong draft horses. To transport the believers of the Randell Fief to worship in Laketon, I have invested in eighty carriages, operating in two shifts. The cost of a carriage plus the draft horses is sixty Gold Sol, and that doesn’t even consider the cost of feed for the horses, the depreciation of the carriages, or the wages of the coachmen.”

“Just as you fear, when the population of the Randell Fief surpasses thirty thousand, I will need to prepare two hundred of these carriages to complete the transport task. If the population surpasses fifty thousand, I’ll need four hundred… I cannot bear such a great financial pressure.”

“Actually, you won’t need that many carriages. By the time the population of the Randell Fief reaches fifty thousand, we will have built at least three churches here and assigned five priests. The believers won’t all need to come to the church in Laketon for worship; they can choose a closer one. As long as you maintain public transport, I think one hundred and twenty carriages will be enough…”

For the Church, calling believers to worship was not a problem at all. Unless it was for corvée labor, a lord could not force the populace to work. After studying the matter, Pello discovered that the Day of Worship wasn’t actually the important part; the key was public transport. Believers were happy to go to church to pray but were limited by travel. If public carriages were available, believers in remote areas could frequently visit the church in their spare time. This would be countless times better than a single Day of Worship and would also reduce the lord’s financial investment. However, the Randell Fief would have far more than fifty thousand people in the future. How many carriages would be needed then? And how many carriages would lords of more populous dioceses have to purchase? Forget one hundred and twenty carriages; a lord wouldn’t even be willing to maintain twenty public carriages! This contradiction was almost unsolvable, and Pello’s voice grew fainter and fainter.

“You are correct, not all believers will worship on the same day. One hundred and fifty carriages would indeed be enough. However, I still cannot afford such a high transport cost. So… I must charge a fee!” Victor said with a nod.

Pello frowned, “A fee? Is that appropriate? Many believers are poor.”

“There is no other way,” Victor said with a sigh, shaking his head. “A commoner can walk at most forty kilometers a day. By carriage, it takes only three hours. For every twenty kilometers, I will charge each passenger one Copper Sol. A commoner’s food for a day costs more than two Copper Sol. Though they must eat every day, they save time on the road, which means more time for work.”

Pello thought for a moment and nodded. “That is true. This is a feasible method.”

Victor smiled and said, “Even so, I still cannot afford it.”

“This… Why is that? Surely charging a fee for the carriages can make money!” Pello asked in surprise.

“The public carriages depart on a fixed schedule. Not every carriage will be full,” Victor explained.

Pello understood at once. A public carriage service with a fee was a business, yes, and it could certainly make money, but it required a large investment, had thin profits, and a slow return. Even Viscount Randell looked down on it, so other lords would be even less interested.

Just as the Bishop began to lose heart, Victor smiled. “I plan to hand this business over to the freemen. I can provide loans to help them buy carriages, and I will also entrust them with transporting goods. This way, they can earn money to support their families, and I can save a huge investment and the cost of coachmen’s wages.”

“A brilliant idea! Many freemen cannot find work. This business could support a group of people,” Pello’s eyes lit up, and he sighed, “Victor, you truly are a genius blessed by our Lord!”

Genius? This is contracting!

Victor chuckled to himself but wore a troubled expression. “If I provide loans, I must charge interest. I worry that some freemen might try to defraud me of my carriages. Therefore, I must see their sincerity… Anyone who wants to be in this business must put up at least twenty Gold Sol! I’ve done a rough calculation. Transporting goods and passengers, they can earn about ten Gold Sol a year. They’ll recoup their investment in six years. Barring any accidents, a draft horse can work for twenty years. Let’s do it this way: I’ll start collecting the principal and interest from the third year. They will repay me five Gold Sol a year for ten years.”

“That is only right,” Pello said with a satisfied nod.

“The problem is…” Victor stared into Bishop Pello’s eyes and said slowly, “The Randell Fief is a Pioneer Fief, under constant threat of Ant-man attacks. Twenty Gold Sol is no small sum for a freeman. Will anyone be willing to invest in the public carriage business?”

Bishop Pello sucked in a cold breath. This wasn’t a problem unique to Pioneer Fiefs; all fiefs had the same issue. Lords didn’t trust freemen, and freemen didn’t trust lords.

The time was ripe. Victor revealed his true intentions. “Your Excellency, I once requested a Divine Notarization to ensure that the property of freemen would not be infringed upon, but I have heard nothing back. This puts me in a very difficult position.”

Pello was silent for a long while before speaking. “The Radiant Code clearly defines our responsibilities: the Nobles protect, the Church redeems, and the people contribute. Your recruitment of soldiers from among the freemen violates the principles of the Radiant Code. Unless you change the content of the Divine Notarization, the Church will not agree to it!”

“I was forced to do it.” Victor raised his voice. “Your Excellency, you should know that the House of Randell was just established and lacks sufficient vassals and subjects, but I need an army to protect the fief. The shadow of the Ant-men has not dispersed. If this place falls, the people will be the greatest victims!”

“All the more reason not to send commoners to their deaths! You must understand that commoners do not have the ability to fight monsters! They are the Lord’s lambs, not the lord’s sacrifices! Such a tragedy has only ever happened thousands of years ago!” Pello’s voice and expression became equally severe.

Victor felt a wave of irritation. This was the very root of his conflict with the Church. The Church saw freemen as its own property. Even if a mercenary army was composed of willing recruits, the Church would still shelter them if a war broke out. With an escape route, how could soldiers possibly fight to the death?

Pello tried to persuade him patiently, “Victor, the Centaur Hills are protected by Her Highness Sylvia. You do not need too large an army. A wise sovereign does not rashly provoke war.”

“But he must always be prepared to fight!” Victor said coldly. “I can’t just shelter under a woman’s skirt, can I?”

“Her Highness is a Spirit Knight, one of the foremost figures of our time. It is an honor for you to stand behind her. Do not debase yourself with the views of a commoner.” Pello shook his head inwardly. Victor had spent too much time with commoners; his worldview was practically warped.

“…” Victor was dumbfounded. Only then did he remember that in the world of nobles, there was only the hierarchy of power, not the superiority of men over women.

“You are right to correct me. I misspoke,” Victor quickly admitted his mistake. It would be bad if those words reached Sylvia’s ears. Victor took a sip of coffee and said, “You just said that commoners cannot fight. That is not entirely true.”

“As I understand it, the Sasan Empire mobilized several thousand mercenaries for its campaign into the Northern Wildlands this time. There are also many mercenary companies active on the border between the Kingdom of Sus and the Twilight Forest. My subordinate, Narsen, also came from a mercenary background. Are mercenaries not commoners?”

“Well… there are indeed some Warriors among the commoners who voluntarily fight. They are worthy of respect. Of course… there are also some ruffians.” Pello stammered out an explanation, “In short, mercenaries are free. No one can force them to fight.”

“I can recruit mercenary companies, correct?” Victor pressed forward, step by step.

“Yes. If they are willing to accept your employment, that is their right,” Pello stressed. “But you cannot force them!”

“Why would I force them?” Victor said, thoroughly pleased. “I will offer generous bounties and conditions. There will always be Warriors who voluntarily accept my employment. As long as they work for me for twenty-five years, I can even grant them land. Isn’t that what mercenaries are after?”

“However, since I will be paying a high price, if any mercenary dares to desert in the heat of battle, I will punish them on the charge of defrauding a lord. The Church cannot interfere with my governance, can it?”

Bishop Pello considered this for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, the Church does not shelter criminals.”

“Since that is the case, I am willing to delete the content about recruiting freemen soldiers from the Divine Notarization.” Victor beamed. A mercenary and a soldier of a mercenary army were only different by a word. It was the same wine in a new bottle, but for the Church, it was of a different nature. If he had known this earlier, he wouldn’t have bothered changing the name in the first place.

Pello was also very satisfied. As long as Victor understood that the Radiant Code was unshakable, his objective was achieved. Moreover, with the Randell Fief as a model, the public carriage system could be promoted.

“Your Excellency, my own ability is limited, but I am willing to persuade the Briatte family to implement public carriages.”

Victor’s gesture of goodwill delighted Pello. “That is wonderful. May our Lord protect the House of Randell.”

“Unfortunately, my financial resources are limited, and my influence is insufficient. Other families may not be willing to protect the property of freemen, and I fear they will not offer loans to them either,” Victor said, shaking his head with regret. Bishop Pello smiled. “Do not worry about that. Naturally, there will be devout believers who engage in the public carriage business. As long as there is no war, the Church will supervise the actions of lords and vassals and will not allow anyone to arbitrarily confiscate the carriages of freemen. Hmm, the process of promotion may be slow.”

Victor struggled to maintain his elegant smile. If he had a fox’s tail, he wouldn’t be able to hide it now.

Chapter 283: The Public Transport Network

Silver Moon Manor.

Victor leaned back in his chair, toying with the Scorpion Tail Bone Bead that Sylvia had given him. Pinned to the writing desk before him was a brand-new letter.

The letter was a simple parchment scroll, and the script and wax seal upon it emitted a sour, stale smell. This scent would only dissipate once the ink and wax were completely dry, at which point the letter could truly be called a parchment scroll.

In truth, Victor didn’t need to be so careful. Bishop Pello had taken a copy of the letter, and even if both scrolls were destroyed, the notice jointly signed by the lord and the bishop was posted on the church doors. The Divine Notarization had already taken effect, and the Church would never deny it.

The Divine Notarization was a product of the New Covenant of Light. It referred to a contract made by nobles under the witness of the Lord of Radiance, supervised by the Lord of Radiance’s secular servants. Divine Notarization held the highest priority and was sacrosanct. Should it be violated, the Church’s Inquisition would directly intervene in the contract’s execution.

For titled nobles, Divine Notarization had little practical use. The nobility valued their reputations, and acts of bad faith would bring shame upon their families, even for a verbal promise. However, the emergence of Divine Notarization marked a great victory for the Paladins in their power struggle, granting them a dominant position within the Church. The Church’s overall strategy shifted accordingly, and it began to actively participate in the internal affairs of the titled nobility, striving to expand its own influence.

Consequently, Divine Notarization was met with firm resistance from the lords of the Spire and passive opposition from the Sasan lords; it could be said that very few responded to the call. For Victor to hold two Divine Notarizations in just four short years made him a true oddity among the lords. This time, in particular, the content and the contracting party were both unprecedented.

The core clause of the House of Randell’s Divine Notarization was singular: any freeman family that funded the construction of a house in the Randell Fief would become a registered subject of Lord Viscount Randell, and the House of Randell swore not to violate their private property, with the Church acting as supervisor.

Victor had originally wanted to write: “The property of registered subjects is protected by Viscount Randell.” Bishop Pello, however, felt this was superfluous, as protection and contribution were the respective duties of the lord and his people. Victor then proposed paying a security deposit to the Church, to which Bishop Pello replied with great authority, “Not needed.”

The meaning of “not to violate,” “not to protect,” and “not needed” was that the House of Randell could never arbitrarily seize the property of freemen for generations to come. If a registered subject suffered losses due to natural disasters or man-made calamities, the situation would be handled as it always had been; the lord could not be expected to compensate his subjects. If the House of Randell were to break its promise, the Church naturally had the means to intervene.

At the time, Victor had been stunned for a long while before realizing he’d been a fool again.

Reality was what it was. In this era where gods manifested and knights reigned supreme, powerless commoners could only occupy the lowest rung. All wealth within a fief belonged to the lord, including houses. Moreover, humanity was in a constant state of war; it was perfectly reasonable for a lord to levy wealth to defend against foreign enemies, a fact even commoners themselves acknowledged. Victor’s claim to protect his subjects’ property was like winking at a blind man—a completely sentimental and self-indulgent gesture.

Perhaps some lords would think Viscount Randell had gone mad with poverty, willing to put a yoke around his own neck just to squeeze money from the freemen.

If Victor truly thought that, and believed the other lords were all idiots, then he himself would be the fool.

Sylvia’s tacit approval and the appreciative look in Bishop Pello’s eyes as he left were proof enough that the upper echelons of the nobility and the Church were not lacking in political wisdom. In their eyes, the House of Randell’s Divine Notarization was perfectly suited to the practical needs of a Pioneer Fief. It was a brilliant move for Viscount Randell to use the Church’s golden reputation to attract population while incidentally extracting wealth.

The so-called yoke was, in fact, the lord’s declaration and self-restraint—a rare and commendable quality. Victor was not the first upper-class man to practice self-restraint, nor would he be the last. The most famous great figure among them was the founder of the Radiant Church—the first Pope, Inoc.

The Radiant Code stipulated that the Church must not hold secular political power, nor engage in commerce. It was precisely because of Inoc’s self-restraint that the Radiant Church had enjoyed enduring prosperity, and it was this that gave Victor his opportunity.

Victor’s political wisdom might not match that of the shrewd, experienced lords, but he hailed from a world of explosive information. When it came to breadth of knowledge, he was streets ahead of them. Victor’s Divine Notarization was not merely about attracting people and money; he had much longer-term considerations.

Among the freemen were outstanding individuals—they had money, ability, knowledge, and an immeasurable network of connections. They might be the second son of a village head, a soldier’s cousin, or some magistrate’s brother-in-law. These were all people Victor needed. The problem was, they dared not venture into a Pioneer Fief, for they feared being fleeced of all their wool.

Under normal circumstances, a lord would not arbitrarily infringe upon a freeman’s property, but even among freemen, cunning expropriation and outright seizure occurred, let alone from a Pioneer Lord. The Church had always turned a blind eye to such matters. Now, the Divine Notarization in the Randell Fief was enough to dispel the freemen’s worries.

According to Victor’s plan, with the Church’s guarantee and the availability of public carriages, the wealthy among the freemen would rush to buy property and register their households in the Randell Fief. They could conduct business and earn money in Wildwillow City, while settling down and spending their earnings in Laketon. This would not only drive economic growth in the Randell Fief, but the freemen’s networks of connections would also become a resource for Victor to use.

The public carriage was the most critical link in the entire plan!

The study door was pushed open, and a graceful, slender figure swept in on a gust of fragrant air.

“My dear, I’ve come,” Alice said with a charming smile.

Victor frowned. “What took you so long? And you didn’t even knock!”

“I just took a bath and changed my clothes.” Alice giggled and spun around. “Do I look good?”

Victor’s eyes lit up. Alice was already a beauty, and after carefully dressing up, she was as stunning as a peach blossom. Her wine-red hair was styled in a noblewoman’s updo, revealing an elegant neck and delicate collarbones. Her slender feet were clad in a pair of dainty high-heeled shoes. She wore a black Spider silk long dress with a low-cut, waist-cinching, backless design that perfectly showcased her beautiful curves and smooth, lustrous skin. The skirt was made of four panels of semi-transparent gossamer. As she spun, the hem flew up, revealing her two long, slender, snow-white legs, like a black iris in full bloom.

She’s even learned to catwalk… Does this mean stockings are next? It seems I’ve unleashed a devil…

As Alice sashayed over, Victor asked, “Where did you get these clothes?”

“Lady Judy gave them to me. All the noblewomen are wearing this style now,” Alice said with a charming pout. “My lord, you haven’t answered me yet.”

“It’s very nice,” Victor said, but his expression suddenly changed, and he pressed, “You’re not wearing this sort of thing to the Briatte family’s balls, are you?”

“This is for a noblewoman’s private moments. How could I wear it to a ball?” In a flash, Alice understood her husband was jealous. Secretly delighted, she said in a seductive voice, “Judy specifically told me to wear this for you to see. If you like it, she’ll wear it for you too.”

Victor breathed a sigh of relief. “I need to discuss business with you, not have you seduce me.”

“Serving you is my duty.” Alice sat directly on Victor’s lap. “Elina and Lilia are always by your side, while I’m constantly shuttling between Wildwillow City and Silver Moon Manor. And when I do return, I don’t even necessarily get to see you. My lord, can you find someone to take over my work?”

Lilia held great power, but the Elina sisters felt not a shred of envy. They cared only for vying for his affection, not for power. The nobility were naturally aloof; never mind Lilia, even Narsen appeared timid and constrained before the Elina sisters. As a noble lord, Victor had no need to worry about his subordinates usurping his power; the entire human world’s strength was aligned to maintain his authority and rule. However, he had to involve the Elina sisters in the fief’s affairs; otherwise, the York family would dispatch their own people to join the House of Randell ahead of schedule.

“No,” Victor replied. “How is the family’s raw sugar and carriage business?”

Alice didn’t dare neglect her duties. “Over the past two days, the caravans of several major families have bought up all five hundred thousand pounds of raw sugar, bringing the shop one thousand five hundred Gold Sols in revenue. The carriage market has been average; we’ve only sold eighteen carriages this month, for a revenue of five hundred and forty Gold Sols.”

“Raw sugar is a strategic resource right now, so it’s normal for it to be in high demand,” Victor nodded. “I will soon transport twelve million pounds of raw sugar to Wildwillow City. Ten million pounds of that is Marquess Sophia’s share. The remaining two million pounds can be sold, but the price must be raised to twelve Copper Sols per pound. Also, remember to reserve two hundred thousand pounds for the freemen merchants, but don’t allow them to raise the market retail price.”

“Raw sugar is a strategic resource? Wonderful!” Alice cheered, then asked, “What price should we set for My Lady’s share of raw sugar?”

“My Lady?” Victor said, confused. “Sylvia never told me she wanted to purchase raw sugar.”

“Oh, I meant Marchioness Sophia,” Alice said, quickly correcting herself with a little flick of her tongue.

Victor was momentarily lost in thought. In this rigidly hierarchical society, commoners could never shake the status of the nobility, and even among nobles, there were distinctions of rank. Although he and Sophia had irreconcilable conflicts of interest, Sophia still held significant influence over the House of Randell. If something were to happen to Victor, no one in the House of Randell would dare defy Viscountess Sophia—of course, Sophia would have to first abandon her marquessate and pledge allegiance to the York family, or Sylvia would kill her with her own hands. If something were to happen to Sophia, however, nothing at all would happen to Victor.

Suddenly, Victor felt a trace of pity and admiration for Sophia. This woman insisted on her independence, maneuvering between the major powers, which was no different than dancing on a tightrope. The slightest misstep would send her plunging into a bottomless abyss. And this was almost an inevitable outcome. The King’s support for the merchant association was not to create a commercial nobility whose wealth could rival a nation. Large merchant associations had money but no power; they were like fat pigs waiting to be slaughtered, with no possibility of escape.

Just as Sylvia had said, a noble who chose no side could not move an inch. Victor himself had been full of arrogance at first, and only after getting his head bashed in did he immediately find a backer. Sophia could have clung to the Queen’s coattails. Although she would have lost most of her wealth, she could have at least preserved her status. Yet she had broken with the Queen to establish her own house and now had no path of retreat. Victor truly didn’t know if it was greed or stubbornness that had driven Sophia into this desperate situation. In any case, he himself lacked that die-hard will to succeed or perish in the attempt. At the end of the day, he was just a small-timer, like a weed; give him a patch of land, and he could grow into a prairie, following the waves and drifting with the current, yet unyieldingly tenacious.

“My lord, did I say something wrong?” Alice asked uneasily, gently shifting her body.

Looking down at the stunning beauty Sylvia had given him, a thought stirred in Victor’s heart. Sylvia wouldn’t care about a decorative male pet, and with her breadth of mind and wisdom, it was impossible for her not to see Sophia’s predicament. The reason she helped Sophia escape the Queen’s control was so she could wait until Sophia was at her wit’s end before recruiting her.

The Royal Family wants to harvest the merchant association’s wealth, and the York family wants to absorb a Great Knight. If that’s the case, why can’t I join this feeding frenzy? Sophia has a natural influence over the House of Randell, and I have a similar influence over her merchant association. Using the strength of the merchant association to build my smuggling network will be twice as effective with half the effort!

At this thought, Victor immediately changed his original plan. “In a few days, have the stewards of Marquess Sophia’s merchant association come to Laketon. I want to meet with them personally.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

“One more thing,” Victor said with a nod. “I’ve already placed orders with the villages to build carriages. I need you to procure high-quality redwood and copper ingots in Wildwillow City—enough to build twenty large dual-purpose passenger and cargo carriages, forty medium ones, and eighty small ones.”

“So many?” Alice was taken aback by Victor’s grand scale. “My dear, carriages are already hard to sell, and no one is interested in the dual-purpose passenger and cargo carriage our family designed.”

“If you want to get rich, first build a road,” was a piece of common knowledge on Earth. But roads alone were not enough; you also needed means of transport. Carriages were the primary mode of transportation in this world and a very important fixed asset. The poor couldn’t afford them, and even wealthy freemen who could afford them didn’t buy them. Instead, they opted to lease, because lords often requisitioned carriages within their fiefs to meet transport needs, and freemen usually never got their carriages back. Therefore, only vassals and nobles within a fief would purchase carriages. The subjects could also ride horses, but most freemen had to rely on their own two legs.

The dual-purpose passenger and cargo carriage designed by the Randell Fief could carry both people and goods. The large model could seat forty people and carry two tons of cargo; the medium, thirty people and one point five tons of cargo; and the small, twenty people and one ton of cargo. The design was complex, sturdy, and durable, and the production cost was much higher than that of ordinary carriages.

However, upper-class men would not ride in a dual-purpose carriage, and its cargo capacity couldn’t compare to a traditional freight carriage. Other than for the Randell Fief’s own use, no one was willing to buy such an expensive and impractical vehicle.

Victor had designed this type of carriage entirely to meet the needs of public transport, and public transport was still an undeveloped virgin territory.

Public transport was a public good by nature, destined not to be highly profitable, but the economic benefits and potential social influence it could create were immeasurable.

Suppose a villager caught a yellow goat. He could only eat it himself. Now, with a public carriage, he could take the goat to town to sell it, then use the money he earned to buy supplies, including raw sugar, and maybe offer a prayer at the Church along the way. In this way, the villager earned money, the coachman earned money, the tavern owner who bought the game earned money, the lord collected taxes, the Church gained faith, and the House of Randell, of course, also earned money.

This was just one aspect of Victor’s plan for developing public transport. His real goal was to use the public transport network for smuggling.

Public transport had many benefits, yet it had been slow to develop, mainly due to two factors. First, the extraordinary nature of the knight-nobles created a severe societal schism. Lords competed with each other over knight’s bloodlines and didn’t give a thought to the needs of the commoners. They were unwilling to even plant Spiked Kidney Beans to make a profit, so how could they possibly invest in the low-profit, high-capital business of public transport? Second, the Church had the ability to develop public transport, but they were restricted by the Radiant Code and could not engage in any commercial trade. (Why was that? The knights wouldn’t agree. During the Era of the Chosen, the population was large, city-states were numerous, and trade flourished. The knights knew very well that the Church could not be allowed to control trade.) The Church had once offered loans to freemen, but when they saw signs of bankruptcy, they immediately banned the practice.

These two factors were the objective conditions that allowed Victor to be the first to try something new. His sending Old John to Wildwillow City to sell carriages was a precursor to his plan to develop public transport. However, the investment required for public transport was simply too large; with Victor’s financial resources, he couldn’t possibly realize this vision. Thus, he turned his sights to the freemen.

Freemen were at the bottom of society, and their fixed assets were easily coveted by others. Now, with the Church’s protection, they could engage in the public transport business with confidence. However, public transport was, after all, a low-profit venture. To make more money, freemen would certainly be willing to transport some cargo, and this cargo would, of course, also be protected by the Church. The influence of a Father was considerable; outpost soldiers wouldn’t risk offending a Father by impounding a public carriage. This provided a convenient avenue for smuggling.

Victor had no ability to control all the public carriages; he only needed to control the public transport network along the smuggling channels. Victor had already instructed Iron Hammer to find suitable freemen merchants and, through business partnerships, have them build public transport networks in designated territories. The Church and the local lords would naturally provide convenience. Even so, Victor would need to invest huge sums of money, but no matter the cost, it would be worth it.

With the Black Market as the terminal, the mountain folk fortified villages as strongholds, public transport as the channel, using both overt and clandestine channels, with the scoundrel hyenas as cover and the mercenary company providing armed security—only then could Victor’s commercial empire be formed. This commercial empire was not just for smuggling; its potential was limitless, capable of attracting numerous factions to join and grow, and all Victor had to do was maintain firm control over it.

Of course, in this process, there would certainly be those who would challenge Victor’s position. But Victor had the first-mover advantage and the Alchemy Tower in his possession. Faced with a challenge, what did he have to fear?

“Just do as I say,” Victor instructed coolly.

Chapter 284: The Little Personal Retainer

The next day, at dawn.

The sky was just beginning to lighten, and the Dawn Sparrows had just landed on the branches. While Elina and her sister were still lost in a sweet spring slumber in their comfortable beds, Victor had already left that gentle haven and had been practicing the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form for some time.

That diligence can make up for a lack of talent is merely a well-intentioned lie. Victor practiced the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form every morning and the Golden Toad Mystic Form every evening, rain or shine, training without pause. Elina and Alice hardly ever exercised, yet as soon as they channeled their Aura, their base strength was still greater than Victor’s.

Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses; the inherent differences from birth were not something that could be changed by diligence alone. It was like the tortoise and the hare—if the hare didn’t take a nap, the tortoise had no chance of winning no matter how hard it tried. But the truth that heaven rewards the diligent was irrefutable. If the stonemason building the castle was not as strong or as skilled as others, he would not even have food to eat if he wasn’t also industrious. You reap what you sow. The true meaning of cultivation was to constantly surpass oneself, like rowing a boat against the current—if you don’t advance, you fall back. For Victor, slacking off was equivalent to a drop in his Physique attribute.

In reality, with X-3 providing perfect command over every muscle, and having grasped the principles of the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form, Victor could train his muscles and bones whether he was sitting, lying down, walking, or standing. And he did just that. His insistence on practicing the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form every day was simply a matter of habit.

In this world that prized personal strength, Victor had initially begun practicing Mystic Forms out of a desperate craving for power. Now, if he went a day without training, he would feel an itch in his heart and a sense of unease throughout his body.

The sun finally leaped above the horizon, filling the footprints on the training ground with golden morning light. The whistling of his fists gradually subsided. Victor’s body trembled and shook, and the dew on his leather armor shot out in all directions, striking the nearby leaves with a pattering sound.

Victor was overjoyed. With the help of X-3, he had accomplished in just four years what would take others more than a decade, mastering the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form to its highest level.

Subduing an ox with one hand and creating startling thunder with a finger-flick might have been embellished praise for the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form, but in this world, it was by no means an exaggeration. Every move Victor now made could erupt with astonishing power. While overpowering a robust bull head-on was impossible, it was a different story when skill was involved. Adjudicator Solo had once pinned an Alchemical Warhound in the Twilight Forest, relying on formidable strength and superb technique. He had cut off the Alchemical Warhound’s ability to exert force, preventing it from getting up, and one must remember that an Alchemical Warhound’s explosive power was even greater than a bull’s. Victor could do the same now, because his strength had reached the limit for an ordinary person, and most importantly, he had X-3.

X-3 gave him meticulous control over his own body and a sharp perception of external changes. With these two abilities alone, Victor could easily master any physical technique. He practiced the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form purely to build his Physique, strength, and endurance; its power-generating techniques held no secrets from him. As for the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form, he had already reached the pinnacle without even needing to practice it.

Theoretically, if an ordinary warrior trained both the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form and the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form to a high level and integrated them, his combat power would be in no way inferior to that of an apprentice knight. Victor was now confident he could defeat an apprentice knight without using Wind Walk or Overlimit—though exceptionally hardworking apprentice knights were a different matter. Victor had taught the simplified Mystic Forms to Elina and her sister, but unfortunately, they were only concerned with how to be beautiful and how to win their husband’s favor, showing not a shred of enthusiasm for increasing their strength. Lilia, on the other hand, was quite diligent, but she favored the body-sculpting Spirit Monkey Mystic Form and kept her distance from the muscle-building Ox-Subduing Mystic Form. The greatest ambition of a Personal handmaiden was to bear the family’s Bloodline heir. Victor couldn’t change their way of thinking, and he thought it was fine this way, so he no longer insisted.

Victor was very satisfied with his training results. If he were on Earth, he would be considered a peerless grandmaster. But as much as he wanted to let out a long cry to express the pride in his chest, he knew full well he was still far from it. In this world, any full knight was a natural-born grandmaster, their strength, physique, endurance, and speed far surpassing those of ordinary mortals. The most crucial point was that the Knights had a path to follow, whereas Victor had hit a bottleneck. To advance further, he could only work on his Bloodline talent and temper his mind. However, since awakening the Activation talent, Victor clearly felt that the potential in his Bloodline had been all but exhausted. His mental training in the ‘Single-Hand Flower Bloom’ hadn’t seen much progress either. Although he had touched upon the barrier between X-3 and himself multiple times during his practice, he just couldn’t pierce that final veil.

“Perhaps, I should focus my efforts on the Golden Toad Mystic Form….” Victor thought to himself as he turned and walked toward the villa.

Just as he entered the villa, Elina, dressed in a long gown, came up to greet him. She unfastened the leather armor from Victor’s body, helped him change into casual clothes, and said gently, “My dear, breakfast is ready.”

Practicing the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form required a large intake of food to replenish the body’s energy. Every time Victor finished his morning training, Elina would prepare a sumptuous breakfast for him to enjoy. The table was laden with stewed grouse, steamed salmon, roasted lamb chops, ground lizard skewers, cream pies, pine nut bread, milk, and fresh vegetables and fruits. The delicious food was tempting in color and fragrant in aroma, whetting one’s appetite.

Victor drank a glass of milk and asked, “Where’s Alice? Why isn’t she here for breakfast?”

“Alice wouldn’t dare delay my lord’s business. She had her breakfast and has already left for Wildwillow City,” Elina said, carefully carving the meat off a lamb chop with a dining knife and placing it on Victor’s plate.

Victor smiled faintly. Elina was beautiful and gentle, her manner with people was generous and appropriate, making one feel as if bathed in a spring breeze. Not only could she persuade Alice to go to work obediently, but she could also unite the family’s Vassals, displaying much of the grace of a family matriarch.

“Elina, this afternoon I’m going with Lilia to the north to inspect Raven Town. It’ll be at least thirty days before I can return. I’m leaving the family affairs to you during this time,” Victor said while enjoying the service of his Personal handmaiden.

“My lord, I understand,” Elina nodded, then added, “My dear, there’s something else I need to tell you… It’s about Beldina.”

Victor set down his utensils and frowned. “What’s wrong with Bel?”

“My lord, you once instructed that Beldina should not learn to write… I feel that is no longer necessary,” Elina said, pausing before turning to a nearby servant and instructing, “Go and bring Beldina here.”

“Yes, My Lady.” The servant bowed and left. A moment later, he returned to the dining room with the little handmaiden. Bel peeked out from behind the servant. When the servant stepped aside, she was startled, then looked at Lady Elina, at a loss for what to do. Elina said with some sternness, “Beldina, what about the etiquette I taught you?”

The little girl lifted the hem of her skirt and curtsied properly, “Good morning, my lord. Good morning, My Lady.”

“Hmm?! Bel… Bel can speak?!” Victor shot up from his seat, then slowly sat back down, a complex look crossing his face.

Elina looked at the bewildered Bel, then at Victor’s gradually cooling expression, and couldn’t help but sigh inwardly.

When Victor had handed Bel over to Elina, he hadn’t explained the little girl’s origins, only saying that she was an orphan. Elina hadn’t pressed the issue. She guessed that this pitiful and cute little girl most likely came from the Hill Camp, and the Hill Camp was a forbidden ground of the House of Randell. Lady Sylvia had warned both her and Alice not to inquire about the secrets of the Hill Camp. Victor must have only let Bel leave the Hill Camp because she couldn’t speak. Now, the situation was different. Although Elina was very fond of this not-so-pretty little girl, she understood her own position even better.

Elina waved for the servant to leave the dining room, then said to Victor, “My lord, it was Father Miller who cured Beldina’s condition. I imagine you may want to speak with her alone, but I can guarantee that Beldina has not revealed any secrets to anyone!”

Victor glanced at Elina in surprise, then said thoughtfully, “My dear, I understand your intentions. Please, rest assured, everything will be fine.”

Elina curtsied and closed the door behind her as she left the dining room. Victor tapped on the table. He was about to ask a question when he saw the little girl staring at the food on the table, swallowing hard. He couldn’t help but smile. “Beldina, retainers can dine with their master, but servants cannot. Do you know why?”

“A retainer is the master’s sword and spear, clearing the thorns for the master. A retainer is the master’s shield and armor, protecting the master from harm. A retainer is the master’s eyes and ears, observing the surroundings and listening for sounds. A retainer is the master’s mouth, conveying the master’s will, but must not leak the master’s secrets. Therefore, a retainer can dine, ride, bathe, and sleep with the master,” Beldina said in a childish voice.

Victor laughed. “Then what are you waiting for?”

Bel let out a cheer, sat down in a chair, and began to eat with gusto. The little one ate with such joy, her mouth glistening with grease, that Victor’s own appetite soared. Before long, the one big and one small foodie had swept the table clean like a whirlwind.

Victor wiped his mouth with a napkin and said, “Beldina, how did Father Miller cure your condition?”

“I fell asleep in the Church, and when I woke up, I could speak,” Beldina said, mimicking Victor by wiping her mouth, but her little face was still covered in more grease stains, making her look like a little calico cat.

“You slept for a bit…” Victor shook his head and asked, “Alright, when did this happen? And what happened to you after that?”

“The day before the day before yesterday. And then…” Bel held her little head and thought carefully. “Then, My Lady brought me back to Silver Moon Manor. I’ve stayed by her side the whole time. She didn’t allow me to speak to anyone else, and I did as she said.”

Four days ago was when Sylvia was inspecting Rose Lake. Victor had been by her side the entire time, only returning to Silver Moon Manor yesterday. Elina didn’t know Bel’s secrets, but her way of handling the matter earned Victor’s high praise. Furthermore, Victor believed that Father Miller was also unaware of Bel’s circumstances; otherwise, the Church would certainly not have let Imosen go. However, what to do with Bel was a problem. She had, after all, spent time in the mountain stronghold, and she was still a child, most likely unable to keep a secret.

“It seems the only option is to keep Bel confined in the Hill Camp.”

As Victor thought this silently, Bel asked with a hopeful expression, “My lord, can I learn to write?”

“Oh? Why do you want to learn to write?” Victor asked.

“I want to be an excellent noble’s handmaiden,” Beldina said timidly. “A noble’s handmaiden must be literate.”

Looking into Bel’s pure eyes, Victor suddenly couldn’t bear the thought of locking her away in the isolated Hill Camp. He had also promised Imosen that he would let Bel live a normal life.

“Bel, as long as you agree to two conditions, not only will I personally teach you to write, but I’ll also make you my personal… No! My personal retainer. Yes! My personal retainer,” Victor said on a sudden impulse.

“Personal retainer? Is that like Lady Elina?” Bel asked, confused.

“Uh… of course not!” Victor said, his head aching. “A personal retainer is… someone who is always by the master’s side… In short, it’s… it’s like a guardian! Yes, I’ll be your guardian, responsible for teaching you to write, but you must be obedient, understand?”

“I still want to be a noble’s handmaiden, just like Lady Elina,” Bel said, biting her lip with determination.

“…” Victor was silent for a long time, then covered his forehead in resignation. “Fine, I’ll train you to be a qualified noble’s handmaiden. After Lord Narsen’s heir grows up… Right, by the time that boy grows up, you won’t have grown much either.”

“I can grow up!” Bel’s eyes turned red as she said stubbornly, “The old Father said Bel just grows a little slowly!”

“This is such a tangled mess!” Victor muttered, then said fiercely, “From now on, you must stay by my side. You are not allowed to talk to anyone about Imosen, the mountain stronghold, or the big dogs! Otherwise, you will never see your father again! Do you understand me, you little lass!”

Beldina’s little mouth puckered, and she burst out crying with a loud “Waaah!” Victor grabbed a napkin and haphazardly wiped her face, only managing to turn her dirty little face into an even bigger mess. He tossed the napkin down and shouted, “Elina, come wash this little one’s face! I’m taking her to Raven Town today!”

Chapter 285: Migration

A caravan of carriages moved slowly along the road by the Silvermoon River. Over a hundred elite cavalry patrolled the front and rear of the caravan. The most eye-catching among them were thirty soldiers astride Swiftbirds. These distinctive light cavalry flanked a noble’s carriage.

This enclosed noble’s carriage was pulled by four sturdy draft horses. The carriage itself was ornate and solid, like a small mobile cottage, with the silver moon sigil inscribed on its side. Following it were fifteen large, strangely-shaped carriages. These were built from redwood, a specialty product of the Gloomy Forest, and copper rivets, making them exceptionally sturdy and durable. The carriages had two levels—the lower for cargo and the upper for passengers. Their walls were made of railings, with a rainproof awning of oilcloth serving as a roof. When necessary, the rolled-up oilcloth could be lowered to ward off rain and snow from the sides. This open design allowed for ventilation and reduced the carriage’s weight. Its only drawback was that it wasn’t very warm, but each carriage was filled with passengers. With dozens of people squeezed together, it would never get too cold. Behind the open-air passenger-and-cargo carriages followed seven common baggage wagons, as well as spare horses, livestock, and over a hundred hounds.

The column of more than twenty carriages and over a hundred cavalry stretched for several hundred meters as it traveled north. The crunch of wheels crushing dry branches and fallen leaves, the neighing of strong horses, the barking of hounds, and the clamor of passengers all mingled together, creating a rather lively scene.

By the time the noise reached the interior of the noble’s carriage, it had become nearly inaudible. Lilia drew the window curtain, curled up on the sofa, and said, “It’s incredible. Our migration from the Black Fortress to the Randell Fief took more than twenty days. Now, it’s only been fourteen days, and we’re about to reach Raven Town in the north.”

“Four years ago, the Randell Fief was still a wilderness with no supply points or roads. Now, the Centaur Hills are in a period of construction. To transport stone and materials, the York family prioritized improving the riverside roads and outposts. On this journey, we don’t need to hunt for supplies, make camp, or send out scouts to find the way,” Victor said with a smile. “Of course, the most crucial difference is traveling by carriage versus on foot.”

“My little miser, are you still going to be difficult about me building these passenger-and-cargo carriages?”

Many of Victor’s measures to develop the large passenger-and-cargo carriages had puzzled Lilia. The family fief had abundant timber resources, yet Victor had insisted on buying redwood from Baron Schultz. The Hill Camp could have built the carriages for free, but Victor had placed orders with workshops in various villages instead.

Victor had explained that purchasing redwood was a way to deepen their influence over Baron Schultz’s fief. Allowing the villagers to earn money would not only inspire their enthusiasm for work but also enhance their sense of belonging to the Randell Fief, while simultaneously attracting merchants to do business in Laketon. As the one who set the rules, the lord had plenty of ways to earn that money back.

Lilia only vaguely understood these principles, but when she calculated the costs, she nearly went mad.

With a division of labor, the woodworking shops in the various villages each produced different parts—lizard-skin wheels, axles, beams, frames, and walls. Their efficiency was astonishing; they could assemble two carriages every three days. In contrast, a traditional carpenter working with a few apprentices might not even finish one carriage in a month. However, the wages for building the carriages were also vastly different. A carpenter might earn four Gold Sol at most for crafting a single carriage, but producing one carriage in the Randell Fief cost ten Gold Sol in wages, because so many people—at least eighty laborers per carriage—were involved.

Including the cost of draft horses and raw materials, each carriage cost fifty Gold Sol. The eighty carriages in the Randell Fief had cost a total of four thousand Gold Sol! And that didn’t even include spare parts.

The cost of feeding the draft horses was even harder for Lilia to bear. These giant horses, weighing nearly 2600 pounds each, were all gluttons. It wasn’t just that they ate a lot; they also needed to be fed special fodder frequently! They truly ate more than an ox and better than a person.

But now, on this journey to Raven Town, the benefits of the passenger-and-cargo carriages were finally undeniable.

Victor’s visit to Raven Town was not only to arrange for the smuggling caravan’s northbound journey but also to migrate people to ensure actual control over that territory. To that end, Lilia had recruited over five hundred refugees to travel north with them in fifteen large carriages. Raven Town was over a thousand kilometers from Laketon. On foot, the journey would take at least forty days. The hardships aside, the cost of food and supplies along the way would have been a massive expense. In contrast, the passenger-and-cargo carriages could travel sixty kilometers a day and reach their destination in twenty days at most, saving not only time but also a great deal on food expenses.

At this thought, Lilia beamed and leaned against Victor’s shoulder. “Darling,” she said, “you’re the most amazing.”

It was March, in the Season of Wind, and the weather was turning cooler, but inside the carriage, it was pleasantly warm. Lilia wore a thin silk inner dress, her small feet were bare, and her slender, straight calves peeked out from under her skirt. Thanks to her consistent exercise, her legs were beautifully and smoothly toned, without a hint of excess fat. Her smooth skin shone with an alluring luster that greatly captivated Victor.

Lilia’s looks were outstanding among common people, though not quite on par with the Elina sisters. Since marrying Victor, she had paid special attention to her beauty regimen, diligently wiping her body with alternating hot and cold towels every day. Her skin had gradually become soft and firm. Judy, for her part, had not forgotten to curry favor with Victor’s beloved Personal handmaiden and had sent over a secret formula for a noble lady’s beauty potion. After taking it, the few freckles on Lilia’s face faded away. Coupled with the body-shaping and blood-circulating effects of the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form, the Lilia of this moment was radiant, with a slender waist and shapely hips—all at once alluring and fit. In terms of both temperament and appearance, she surpassed even the average noble lady.

The road was long, and though Victor was in the carriage with his beloved, nothing happened.

Crack.

At the other end of the carriage, little Bel, dressed in a handmaiden’s uniform, was leaning over a table, concentrating on cracking a hard-shelled nut with a pair of pliers. She placed the kernel she extracted into a jar beside her. The little girl’s posture and expression were perfectly in line with a handmaiden’s decorum—it would have been more perfect if she hadn’t kept sneaking nuts.

She furtively glanced at her Master Victor and My Lady Lilia, then popped a nut kernel into her mouth in the most covert manner possible. Unfortunately, the chomping sounds she made were so loud that even Lilia could hear them.

Victor was instantly amused. He beckoned to her. “Bel, come here. Let me see how many nuts you’ve shelled.”

Bel looked up at Victor, then down at the thin layer of nuts in the silver jar. Swallowing the treat in her mouth, she slowly walked toward Victor, holding the jar, her eyes darting around as her little mind raced to come up with a plan.

The carriage was large, but Bel was small, and it was only a few steps away. Yet she dawdled for a long time without making it over. Finally, she staged a fake fall, tumbling onto the cashmere carpet and scattering the nuts from the jar everywhere.

“Oh no! Master, the nuts are spilled,” Bel said, her big eyes blinking with innocence. “They’re all dirty now. I guess Bel should just eat them.”

“Hmm, alright,” Victor said, deliberately drawing out his words to tease her. “Then you don’t need to eat dinner tonight. I think there’s roast venison, you know.”

Bel’s face, initially wreathed in smiles, instantly fell. Her rosy little cheeks drooped, and tears began to well up in her eyes. Her nose twitched, and she looked as if she was about to burst into tears. Lilia’s heart ached for her. She pulled the girl onto her lap and comforted her. “My lord is just teasing you. Of course Bel can have dinner.”

Victor smiled and said, “If you spoil her like this, how will she ever become a proper noble’s handmaiden?”

Lilia shot Victor a glare, while Bel buried her little head in her bosom. Perhaps it was the rocking of the carriage, or perhaps it was the warmth of Lilia’s embrace, but Bel soon fell asleep.

Lilia carried Bel to her small bed and watched her for a moment before sighing. “Poor Bel. I lost my parents when I was young too, but I had my brother, and now I have you. Bel has no relatives at all.”

She has an incredibly powerful father, but one who can’t be seen in the light, Victor complained silently in his heart. In truth, it wouldn’t be a catastrophe even if the mountain stronghold were exposed. However, the matter of him sheltering a Wizard and trading with beastmen absolutely had to remain a secret, even from Lilia. It wasn’t that Victor worried Lilia would leak the secret, but rather that he wanted to protect her. Harboring a Wizard was extremely dangerous. If the Church were to find out, Victor himself might be fine, but Lilia would very likely be made an example of.

Although Bel was young and naive, and others wouldn’t take her words seriously, Victor dared not take the risk. He had not only carefully screened everyone Bel came into contact with but had also personally gone to the small church to subtly probe Father Miller, only bringing her along after confirming there was no risk. Bel was clever enough to be obedient; after Victor’s warning, she stopped talking about her father. However, the little girl was gluttonous and playful, bursting with vigor, and would run off to play with other children if not watched closely, which was a constant headache.

“You think she’s pitiful?” Victor shook his head. “This little one isn’t pretty, and she’s a glutton and a layabout. I don’t know why so many people like her. Even the dogs like her!”

Lilia thought for a moment, then smiled. “The first time I saw her, I felt a sense of affection. She was so cute… Some people are just especially likable. Bel is one of those people.”

Victor nodded. Just as he was about to speak, the carriage began to slow down and gradually came to a halt. Victor pulled open the curtain and saw Gru, the Captain of the Personal Guard, riding over.

“Gru, what’s happened?” Victor asked.

Gru replied, “My lord, we have entered Viscount Soren’s territory. There is a Knight and a Father ahead who wish to see you.”

“Oh? A knight under Soren?” Victor narrowed his eyes. “Who is he?”

“The knight calls himself Viscount Soren’s younger brother, Baron Boros Wimbledon.”

Chapter 286: Killing Intent

Victor hurried to the front of the column, where a group of people had been waiting by the roadside for some time. At their head was a handsome young nobleman in his twenties. He carried no weapon, but wore the leather armor of a Knight, befitting his status as a Baron. His build was tall and straight, his bearing calm. With short, chestnut-colored hair and blue eyes, his facial features bore a slight resemblance to Victor’s—the soft, refined looks characteristic of the Wimbledon family bloodline.

Because of Sophia, Victor paid extra attention to the state of Soren’s viscounty. The moment he saw this Knight, the image of Boros sprang to his mind, even though this was their first meeting.

Baron Boros Wimbledon was thirty-seven years old, a Knight who had advanced with the aid of Vigor Potions. He was Viscount Soren Wimbledon’s half-brother. Having once served in the Royal Capital’s Imperial Guard, he now managed Soren’s fief and had been enfeoffed with a barony of his own.

While Victor observed Boros, Boros was also sizing up the young, up-and-coming nobleman of his own clan.

This young lord wore well-fitting leather armor, with two longswords hanging at his waist. His black hair and black eyes were like the deep night sky, and his handsome features were enough to make even a noble’s wife jealous. Nobles with elven bloodline were known for their delicate and slender frames, but he was tall and well-proportioned, exuding a heroic air. His gaze, sharp as a sword, swept over, giving Boros a start and making him bow involuntarily. “Lord Viscount Randell, good day.”

“Lord Baron, I didn’t expect you to greet me in person,” Victor said with a faint smile, dismounting his Swiftbird.

In truth, there was no personal grudge between Soren and Victor; their so-called hostility was merely a matter of differing standpoints. Soren served Grand Duke Williams, while Sophia had been a confidant of the Queen. The struggle between them, ostensibly for a title, was in fact a manifestation of the conflict between the Queen and the Grand Duke. As Sophia’s husband and the inheritor of the Marquess title, Victor had naturally become a thorn in Soren’s side. Now, a consensus had been reached within the Royal Family. Victor had sided with the York family, and the Royal Family and the Yorks both cooperated and remained wary of each other on the issue of the Centaur Hills. Consequently, the relationship between Soren and Victor had shifted from mortal enemies to one of cold indifference.

The York family had ceded the territory in the northern Centaur Hills in exchange for the Royal Family’s support. The Royal Family had then divided that land in two, placing it under the control of Viscount Soren and Viscount Keli respectively. This extended the royal family’s influence into the Centaur Hills, thereby checking the York family. As Viscount Soren’s agent, it was only fitting for Boros to maintain a cold demeanor toward the core members of the York family. Victor had never expected him to personally come out to welcome the House of Randell’s caravan.

Slightly embarrassed, Boros cleared his throat and said, “My lord, we are both of the Wimbledon family bloodline. We should naturally watch over and help one another. You are migrating your people to develop the north, and I am willing to provide convenience and Aid for Raven Town.”

“Then I am most grateful,” Victor replied with a bow.

“It is only right,” Boros said with a nod, then smiled and made another introduction. “This is Priest Gary, the resident priest of Soren’s Viscounty.”

“Your Excellency Randell, may my Lord guide your path.” The balding, fat old man beside him took a step forward and greeted Victor. He was about fifty years old, with a hairline that had receded to the high heavens. His short priest’s robe on his stout, stocky frame made him look like a barrel wrapped in flax cloth. His garlic-bulb nose and bead-like eyes made for a comical pair, and the kind smile on his face gave off an impression of shrewdness and slickness.

Victor nodded. “Father Gary, it is a pleasure to meet you.” With that, he unbuckled the longsword at his waist and handed it to Reno, who stood beside him. At this, Baron Boros visibly relaxed, while Father Gary smiled so widely his eyes vanished.

“My lord, please follow me. I have prepared some supplies for you.”

Five fully loaded carriages were parked by the roadside, along with herds of cattle and sheep. Boros explained to Victor, “I know that my lord raises wild boars and grazes cattle and sheep in your southern fief. However, the north is a place the Ant-men have yet to set foot in, and many beasts and monsters still roam the wilds. It’s not possible to raise wild boars on a large scale. Therefore, I have prepared fifty head of cattle and two hundred sheep for you, my lord.”

“These carriages are loaded with grain, salt, as well as thirty crossbows, sixty longbows, a total of twelve thousand arrows and crossbow bolts, and twenty sets of infantry equipment.”

One of Boros’s guards opened a long wooden crate, revealing neatly bundled, triple-fletched arrows. The arrowheads gleamed with a sharp, cold light, and the shafts were straight and of nearly identical size and thickness. Victor knew with a single glance that these finely crafted arrows were standard issue for the Royal Capital’s Imperial Guard, far superior to common wares.

“No need to open them. Load them all onto the carriages,” Victor said, gesturing for the guard to stop displaying the rest of the military supplies. He turned his head and asked, “What does Lord Baron want?”

Faced with Victor’s direct question, Boros seemed at a loss, then a wave of dejection washed over him. Given Viscount Randell’s current status and position, there was no need for him to entertain a mere vassal Baron. Father Gary interjected, “Your Excellency Randell, your migration has been astonishingly swift. Over six hundred people have reached Soren’s Viscounty in just over ten days. It must be thanks to the passenger-and-cargo carriages. I hope Your Excellency can leave these large carriages in Raven Town to make it convenient for the people there to attend my Church for worship.”

“Public carriages?”

Victor frowned. Although Raven Town was a town, it only had a few hundred residents and was not qualified to have its own Church. The faithful there naturally fell under Father Gary’s jurisdiction, so his request to establish public transport was reasonable. However, Raven Town and Soren’s Viscounty had different backgrounds, and public transport would bind the two sides more closely, which went against the Royal Family’s intention to check the York family.

Could it be that Soren wants to side with the York family?

At this thought, Victor asked with a half-smile, “Does Lord Baron agree as well?”

Boros did not answer Victor’s question directly. Instead, he said with a serious expression, “My lord, the situation in the north is not optimistic. My scouts report that the Dodorians are building fortifications forty kilometers north of Raven Town, clearly aimed at us, Gambis. If the Dodorians march south, your Raven Town will be the first to bear the brunt. I am willing to offer your subjects shelter, but they must be able to retreat to my castle swiftly. At the same time, I hope to share intelligence with Raven Town and establish a beacon tower so that I can respond in a timely manner.”

A cold glint flashed in Victor’s eyes. He said, “I seem to recall that our neighbor to the north is Viscount Negus, the wind-element Great Knight of the Dodor Kingdom. Has he invaded my territory? I have received no such report from my men.”

“Viscount Negus has indeed not invaded your territory,” Boros said with a nod. “However, many bandits have built a camp to the north, and they are only twenty kilometers away from your Raven Town!”

“My lord, you should know what this means!”

Victor pondered for a moment, then turned to the priest. “Father Gary, do you have any suggestions?”

“Alas…” Father Gary sighed with compassion. “Duke Erickson of Dodor was hanged by the King of Dodor for privately minting gold coins. Duke Erickson got what he deserved, but his accomplices, in order to escape punishment, have coerced the populace and are now roaming everywhere, having become bandits.”

“It is a lord’s duty to punish bandits and protect the people. The Church will not interfere!”

Victor gave the fat priest a deep look, then turned to Boros and said, “I accept your gifts.”

Boros nodded in acknowledgment, then said eagerly, “My lord, I have prepared an Evening Banquet at my castle to welcome you.”

“Thank you for your gracious invitation, Your Excellency. Right now, I just want to get to Raven Town as quickly as possible.” Victor politely declined Boros’s kind offer and turned to walk back to his carriage.

The wheels rumbled and the crowd buzzed with voices, punctuated by the neighing of horses and lowing of cattle. The vast caravan moved north amidst a cloud of dust, disappearing into the hills not long after. Baron Boros and Father Gary exchanged a smile, then also departed with their soldiers.

——————————

The surrounding woods gradually darkened as twilight deepened. The cloudless sky shifted from pale blue to violet-blue. The silver moon had not yet risen, and the curtain of night was just beginning to fall. Butz paced at the crossroads, his anxious gaze sweeping toward the end of the road from time to time.

“I say, old pal, stop fussing with your dogs,” Butz said to Raven Town’s Garrison Commander, Old Ham. “My lord, why isn’t he here yet?”

“My dear Town Mayor, can’t you just sit down quietly? Animals are the most sensitive. Look, you’re scaring them.” Old Ham rolled his eyes in annoyance and continued to soothe the Tiku hounds circling around him. A companion’s nervousness could affect these keen hounds, making them suspicious and unable to distinguish real danger from the rustling of the wind.

“Light the torches! Start the bonfires!” Butz stomped his foot and shouted. The town mayor’s command was immediately carried out. The militia lit their torches one by one. This was not the peaceful Randell Fief; monsters and beasts could very well be hiding in the low bushes, watching them.

As the points of firelight flickered, Butz breathed a sigh of relief. Just as he was about to sit down, he heard the frantic barking of the Tiku hounds, followed by the sound of dense hoofbeats. A long line of torches, like a giant fiery python, snaked along the road, tearing through the night. Butz was about to cry out in joy when Old Ham clamped a hand over his mouth and hissed, “Douse the torches! Scatter and take cover!”

“Haha! Old Ham, I could smell the dog shit on you from a mile away! Stop hiding!”

Amidst a burst of coarse laughter, a troop of cavalry galloped over. Old Ham released Butz and bellowed back with a laugh, “Gru, you one-eyed bastard! Believe it or not, I’ll feed you to the dogs!”

The Raven Town militia relaxed their bowstrings and sheathed their swords. As the two groups met, joyous laughter erupted.

“Old boy, long time no see! You’re not dead yet!” Gru leaped off his warhorse, bounded over to Old Ham, and clapped him heartily on the shoulder.

“Pah, I’ll still be alive when you’re dead!” Old Ham raised his head proudly and said, “You impolite lout, you should address me as Lord Garrison Commander!”

“I’m the lord’s Captain of the Personal Guard, a rank higher than a garrison commander like you,” Gru retorted with a strange cry.

“Uh…” Old Ham was momentarily speechless, glancing left and right. “Hey, where did Butz run off to?” The two turned their heads and saw Butz jogging toward the noble’s carriage. Old Ham quickly ordered his men to follow and welcome the lord.

Victor disembarked from the carriage with Lilia. Butz and Old Ham bowed and said, “Greetings, my lord. Greetings, My Lady.”

“You’ve worked hard. Have you been well here?” Victor said with a smile and a nod.

“It’s no trouble, no trouble at all,” Butz said repeatedly. “We’re doing just fine here.” As he spoke, a small head peeked out from behind Lilia. It was Beldina. Old Ham was overjoyed and said to Lilia, “Lass… oh, My Lady.” A kick from Butz to his leg made him quickly correct himself.

Although Old Ham had watched Lilia grow up, her status was different now. As beneficiaries of the new Order, even the War Bear Mercenaries had begun to mind their manners and observe hierarchies, spontaneously upholding the lord’s authority and rule to ensure their own positions. Raven Town was isolated, and Victor’s reach was limited here, but neither Old Ham nor Butz dared to overstep the bounds of propriety.

Etiquette was rules, and rules were Order.

Lilia covered her mouth and giggled. “Uncle Ham, this is Beldina, the lord’s little retainer. She’s not my daughter, you can consider her my little sister.”

Old Ham chuckled in embarrassment and shook his head. “I was muddled. It’s only been a few years. How could you and the lord have a child this big?”

“Let’s talk more back in Raven Town,” Victor instructed. Bel tugged at the corner of his sleeve and pleaded, “Master, Bel wants to play with those skinny dogs…” Old Ham’s Tiku hounds were wagging their tails at Beldina, appearing extremely friendly, just short of pouncing on her.

“No.” Victor picked up little Bel and placed her back in the carriage.

The caravan traveled for another half an hour by moonlight before finally arriving at Raven Town. A stone castle stood at the front of the town, with a palisade extending from both sides of the castle to enclose an area of about two square kilometers. The caravan crossed the drawbridge and entered in an orderly fashion. While the migrating people were overjoyed, Victor’s expression was grim.

The process of recruiting refugees for the move to Raven Town had been very smooth, all because Raven Town had a castle. The castle met the required specifications: thirty-five meters high, built of sturdy gray rock, and complete with watchtowers, a drawbridge, and a moat. However, the stones used for the walls had clearly not been carefully polished; the entire wall was uneven. Even an Elite Soldier could scale the castle with their bare hands, let alone an apprentice knight. A castle like this could fend off an attack by beastmen, but it certainly could not withstand a surprise assault from a Great Knight.

“So this is the castle the Dodorians built for me!”

Victor let out a cold laugh and commanded, “Butz, Old Ham, settle the people first, then come see me. I have questions for you.”

————————

The great hall of the castle was brightly lit with candles. Butz and Old Ham stood at the foot of the dais, not daring to breathe too loudly. By the time they had settled the people, it was already late at night. When they came to see the lord, they found the atmosphere in the hall to be heavy and oppressive. Victor sat on the throne with his eyes closed in thought, his stern face flickering in the swaying candlelight. After a long while, he opened his eyes and asked, “I hear there’s a freemen camp nearby?”

“Yes, my lord,” Old Ham said, stepping forward respectfully. “Not long ago, refugees from Dodor built a camp downstream. There are about one thousand people in it. From what we’ve gathered, the core members of the camp were once soldiers of Duke Erickson. They fled here to escape being pursued by the Dodor Kingdom.”

“So you’re saying this freemen camp is within my territory?”

“That’s right,” Butz said with a nod. “According to The Agreement between the York family and the Dodorians, the land on both sides of that stream now belongs to you.”

“Did you not think of recruiting these people?”

Butz hesitated for a moment before saying, “We tried. The chief of the freemen camp was willing to join us, but there were too many of them, so we thought it over and refused.”

Victor gave Butz an appreciative look and nodded. “A very wise decision!”

Sixty kilometers north of Raven Town was a stone quarry that Sylvia had long coveted. The York family had once attempted to occupy the territory around that quarry, but they abandoned the plan after acquiring rock brick technology and ceded the northern territory to the Royal Family. The Royal Family then granted the land to two court nobles with the aim of blocking the Yorks’ access to the quarry. Victor wanted this enclave to monitor the Ant-men’s movements, gather resources from the mountains, and build a stronghold for caravans heading north. Sylvia agreed to his request and expanded the territory by another thousand square kilometers. As the Governor-General of the Centaur Hills, the York family could then justifiably dispatch troops to patrol Raven Town. This placed both Soren’s and Keli’s viscounties under the iron hooves of The Rose Knights, allowing the York family to form a counter-check against the Royal Family.

The power play between the York family and the Royal Family was an internal conflict within Gambis. When faced with an external threat, the two sides would unite. Raven Town bordered the Dodor Kingdom’s sphere of influence, serving as a shield for Soren’s Viscounty. Baron Boros’s actions of sending grain and military supplies, and his proposals for public transport and a beacon tower, were all explained now. The reason prompting him to do so was undoubtedly that freemen camp.

Territories have no fixed borders; they belong to whoever actually controls them. Victor would never believe that the freemen camp was not a military force planted by the Dodorians near Raven Town. In his view, the Dodor Kingdom, having failed in its scheme to win over the York family and unwilling to simply cede this land to Gambis, had sent people to establish this camp under the guise of freemen. As soon as a priest from the Dodor diocese came to preach there, it would become Dodor territory. If Butz had taken those people in, Raven Town would surely have fallen to a combined internal and external attack. From Father Gary’s attitude, it was clear that the Church stood on Gambis’s side—or more accurately, it was a reward for Victor’s public transport plan.

“Hmph, the Dodorians schemed against me. I’ll collect some interest first,” Victor said coldly. “I’ve decided to wipe out that freemen camp!”

Old Ham and Butz exchanged a look, seeing the excitement in each other’s eyes. This territory was their home, and they would not tolerate outsiders coveting it. Lilia frowned with worry. “My dear, slaughtering freemen will damage your reputation and might even attract big trouble.”

Victor smiled faintly. “The Church is the last thing we need to worry about right now.”

It was true that the Church protected its believers, but those who could not provide faith were not among them. This freemen camp was in a remote location with poor access. The people inside could neither go to a church to pray, nor could a priest travel there to preach and collect holy power. The only solution was for the lord to raze the camp and reintegrate the freemen into the Order. It was like a shepherd who painstakingly builds a pen to shelter his flock from the wind, rain, and predators. But there are always disobedient sheep that escape the fence. At such times, the shepherd dog is needed to bring the stray sheep back. The means used by the sheepdog, whether biting or intimidating, are all necessary. Only then will the flock understand the warmth of the shelter their shepherd has built.

“My lord, I’ll send men to scout out the situation at the freemen camp tomorrow,” Old Ham said.

“There’s no need to wait for tomorrow!” Victor stood up, drew his longsword, and said indifferently, “Tonight, the clever will die of arrogance, the foolish will die of ignorance, the brave will die of recklessness, and the cowardly will die of fear. I want you to kill every last person who dares to resist or flee. I want that camp to become a river of blood!”

Outside the castle, the autumn wind rustled through the forest, sounding like the clash of swords and the whistle of a thousand arrows. A mournful wolf’s howl echoed from deep within the woods, like a horn call to war.

Chapter 287: The Black Raven’s Night Raid (Part 1)

A mournful wolf howl echoed in the dim twilight, the air filled with an unsettling, inexplicable terror. A raven flew over the fence, landing on a high watchtower with an ugly cry, like a dark specter.

“A raven out at night is not a good omen.” Roy tightened his grip on his longbow, his eyes narrowed as he muttered to himself. The cold moonlight made his upturned face seem exceptionally pale.

“A raven’s just a little bird. You’re afraid of those few dire wolves. Roy, you’re a coward.” Big Beard chuckled, maliciously exposing Roy’s true nature, completely unconcerned if his companion would fly into a humiliated rage.

Roy ignored his companion’s provocation and silently averted his gaze. Big Beard’s muscles were gnarled and powerful. The double-bladed battleaxe he carried was sharp and heavy; Roy needed two hands just to swing it. Big Beard was said to have been a mercenary who had fought the Sassans in the north of the kingdom. Though he was a newcomer who had just joined the camp, he used his strength to stir up trouble everywhere, picking fights and knocking down many people. He had also earned the captain’s appreciation, not only getting into the militia squad but also taking a woman for himself.

Roy didn’t want to be Big Beard’s stepping stone, and he certainly didn’t want to get beaten up, but his brother, Quinn, had a fiery temper.

“Big Beard, if you saw a dire wolf up close, I guarantee you’d piss your pants!”

Quinn’s fists creaked as he clenched them, his sharp gaze fixed like a dagger on the spot between Big Beard’s eyebrows. Faced with one of the best sharpshooters in the camp, Big Beard just shrugged nonchalantly and didn’t continue his insolence.

Big Beard’s dismissive attitude only angered Quinn more. He said sullenly, “That dire wolf was bluish-black and as big as a pony, twice the size of a normal male wolf. Its fangs were like daggers, and its green eyes would stare right at you. Anyone would be scared stiff. Except me and Roy!”

Quinn and Roy were not blood brothers. They were freemen companions with a ten-year bond who had made a living by hunting—or to put it plainly, by poaching. Quinn, who came from the mountain folk, was a skilled archer who could shoot a deer in the eye. Roy had deft hands; the pelts he stripped were nothing short of perfect. At first, the two had worked together hunting black moles, skinning them to sell for money. Black moles ruined crops and their meat was inedible, but their fur was quite valuable. The only problem was their size; it took at least a dozen black moles to make a single pair of leather gloves. The Lord Village Heads had always turned a blind eye to mole hunters, and Quinn had made a living off Roy’s skill. One year, while hunting black moles in Duke Erickson’s forest, Quinn got an itch and shot a stag. As Roy was busy skinning the deer, they were caught red-handed by one of the Erickson family’s rangers. As a result, both were sentenced to hard labor and locked away in a secret gold mine fortress, mining gold for Duke Erickson and living the sunless lives of mine slaves. Over a year ago, the Church’s Sacred Warriors raided the Erickson family’s secret gold mine fortress, freeing several hundred trapped souls on the spot. Roy and Quinn regained their freedom, only to find that the Erickson family had undergone a drastic change. Their lands were overrun with bandits and roving marauders, and public order was in shambles. For self-preservation, they joined a band of freemen. After several struggles and mergers, the band they were in grew larger and larger, eventually becoming a large freemen camp.

Initially, the band’s leader wanted to set up camp to the west. There was a small lake there, with fertile land, dense vegetation, and abundant wild resources. Most importantly, the location was closer to Raven Town, which the people of Gambis had built, and far from the Dodor lords’ sphere of influence. The core of the freemen band was made up of Duke Erickson’s confidant soldiers, who had been involved in the illegal minting of Gold Sols and were thus wanted by the Dodor Kingdom. However, no one had expected the area around the small lake to be the habitat of dire wolves—and there was more than one. Dire wolves were cunning and cruel, truly fearsome beasts. Quinn and Roy had personally witnessed the bloody scene of a dire wolf slaughtering one of their freemen companions, and they had been scared half to death. The band of freemen had no choice but to migrate more than twenty kilometers east along a stream, finally setting up camp on its southern bank.

Big Beard was a latecomer and hadn’t experienced the dire wolf attacks. His mockery of Roy’s cowardice naturally provoked Quinn’s displeasure. But Big Beard would never pass up an opportunity to put down a companion; he was always scheming to establish his own status.

“Heh heh, only a coward would turn pale from the sound of a dire wolf’s howl from behind a fence.”

“You!” Quinn found himself at a loss for words. The camp’s wooden fence was a full twelve meters high and as thick as an adult’s arm, built with three layers of Iron-pine wood, the space between filled with gravel, earth, and mortar, all packed down very solidly. Let alone a dire wolf, not even a Knight on horseback could break through it in one go. Besides, there was a four-meter-wide moat outside the fence, and twelve watchtowers stood inside, each armed with a tremendously powerful military heavy crossbow. The entire camp could be considered impregnable. At least Quinn felt safe here. He didn’t know why Roy’s face was white; he guessed his brother was sick.

“Roy, did you eat something bad? How about I go tell the Chief you can take the night off?” Quinn asked with concern.

“Who’s taking the night off?” A tall man walked over, his stride steady and his demeanor commanding. He wore leather boots and fur trousers, cowhide gloves, a hardened leather cuirass, and over it all, a gleaming full-body steel ring mail. He held a short spear of refined iron and an Iron-oak round shield, and a sheathed longsword hung at his waist. His sharp eyes scanned the area, and the thirty-odd militiamen sitting by the fence scrambled to their feet. Big Beard was the first to rush up, fawning, “Lord Mor, you’re here.”

“How many times have I told you? Don’t call me ‘My lord’!” Mor clapped Big Beard on the shoulder, his expression pleasant. “It won’t be good if a real lord hears you.”

“Yes, yes.” Big Beard said, nodding and bowing obsequiously. “Captain, that brat Roy was scared out of his wits by the dire wolf’s howl and wants to feign sickness to go back and rest.”

The men roared with laughter. Quinn, his face flushed with anger, loudly defended his friend, “That’s not it! Chief, don’t listen to Big Beard’s slander. Roy, he… he just ate something bad.”

“Roy, is that so?” Mor asked coldly.

“Chief, I’m fine,” Roy explained uneasily. “It’s the raven’s cawing that’s so unsettling.”

Caw! The raven in the watchtower let out a harsh, strange cry as if on cue. Mor looked up and frowned, then ordered Quinn, “Shoot that bird of death down! The brothers up there are waiting for us to relieve them.”

“Right away!” Quinn drew his bow. In the twilight, the raven was just a blurry black shadow, but that was no challenge for a skilled mountain folk archer. Yet, the instant the arrow left the string, the raven took flight first. Quinn’s shot missed. He exclaimed, “That damned raven was watching me the whole time!”

The words had barely left his mouth when a scream came from the watchtower. A man fell, and crimson liquid spread out beneath him as if he were a ruptured, man-shaped water bladder. The sickly sweet smell of blood was nauseating. The men stared at each other in shock. Captain Mor roared, “Quinn! You idiot, you shot someone!”

Before Quinn could defend himself, another scream came from the tower. This time, everyone heard the sharp whistle of an arrow cutting through the air. Then, screams erupted from the watchtowers one after another. The guards on the walkways behind the fence panicked, shouting and yelling. Countless ravens took flight from the watchtowers, the stables, and the shanty roofs, forming a great flock that circled overhead, cawing loudly. The laughter of the birds of death woke the entire camp. Hounds barked wildly, warhorses neighed in alarm, women and children cried out, and men shouted curses. The entire camp instantly plunged into chaos.

“Enemy attack!”

Captain Mor screamed his orders, “Someone go ring the alarm bell! The rest of you, follow me up to the walkways and support our brothers on the wall!”

A quick-witted militiaman broke from the group and ran for the alarm bell. Clang! Clang! Clang! The alarm bell rang out continuously from the eastern fence. The eastern fence is also under attack? Captain Mor’s face changed drastically. He gritted his teeth and climbed onto the fighting platform, knowing the militia from the east wouldn’t be coming. Clang! Clang! The southern alarm bell also rang. Men poured out of the shanties, which gave Mor some small comfort.

The camp held over five hundred able-bodied refugees, along with sixty Elite Soldiers and three apprentice knights. Most of the people didn’t know that the camp’s leader and its core members were in the service of Viscount Negus. This freemen camp was, in effect, a military stronghold for the Viscount. The three apprentice knights, leading their own personal troops, guarded the north and south gates and the cavalry stables, respectively. Mor had once been a soldier of the Erickson family and, implicated by his master, had been assigned to guard the southern stockade wall. He couldn’t understand why the enemy was attacking the fence instead of the camp’s gates, but he knew for certain that his former comrades would soon organize over a hundred able-bodied militiamen to man the platforms. As long as he held out for a short while, the apprentice knights would bring reinforcements, and the enemy would surely be forced to retreat in defeat.

“Don’t panic! Don’t panic! We have a moat and an Iron-wood fence in front of us! The enemy can’t break through! Get to your firing positions, get your bows and crossbows ready!” another captain, Ned, shouted. The panicked militia quickly calmed down seeing Captain Mor arrive with reinforcements on the fighting platform. Roy stood at his post. In the moonlight, he could see dozens of black figures two hundred meters away, charging toward the fence. Their speed was comparable to that of warhorses; in just a moment, they had covered over a hundred meters.

“How can they be so fast? Are they all Knights?” Mor’s blood ran cold, as if he had been plunged into an ice cave.

Chapter 288: The Black Ravens’ Night Raid (Part 2)

“Focus fire on the enemy in the lead!”

The thrumming of bowstrings blended into one continuous drone as more than sixty feathered arrows and crossbow bolts shot forth, flying toward the foremost figure like a swarm of locusts. The enemy twisted and dodged, nimbly evading most of the projectiles, but was still struck by several crossbow bolts. Yet he seemed completely unfazed and continued his charge forward, his comrades soon catching up to him from behind.

“I’m sure I hit him! How is he still running?” Quinn cried out in terror.

“Keep shooting! Don’t stop!” Mor had no time to explain. He roared at the top of his lungs, firing desperately as if to vent the despair in his heart. Only a Knight could wear such armor and still run with the speed of a galloping horse.

A man next to Roy suddenly collapsed onto the platform, his face pierced by three black-feathered arrows, one of which had entered his left eye and penetrated straight to his brain. This fatal wound killed him instantly, without so much as a grunt. Roy’s legs went weak with fright, and he dropped behind the fence. Peeking through a gap, he saw the enemy had already closed to within seventy meters. They held longbows, running and shooting at the same time, their shots fast and accurate. Cries of pain erupted all over the platform as many men were hit and fell, either dead or wounded. Meanwhile, their own powerful longbows and heavy crossbows posed no threat to them at all.

More than sixty able-bodied militiamen, despite holding the high ground, were being suppressed by the enemy below, unable to even raise their heads!

“All of you, get up and fire back!” Captain Mor frantically whipped the men cowering behind the fence with his spear. Forced by his brutal authority, the militiamen stood up again, only to be met with another wave of casualties.

“We need the military heavy crossbow! I’m going to the watchtower to get it! Cover me!” Captain Ned crouched low and scurried to the tower ladder. He leaped up and began to climb, but he was only halfway up when several long arrows whistled through the air, piercing his chainmail and round shield and running him through. The valiant captain let out a terrible scream and fell.

“Longbow sharpshooters!” Captain Mor’s face turned ashen. He finally understood who had killed his comrades in the watchtower. Roy didn’t hear Captain Mor’s cry of despair; Quinn had collapsed right beside him, a black-feathered arrow lodged in his chest. Blood gushed from Quinn’s mouth. Roy was completely at a loss. Just then, Big Beard crawled over, took one look, and barked, “His lung is pierced! The leather armor slowed it down, so the wound isn’t deep. He won’t die! But if you don’t turn him over, he’ll choke to death on his own blood.”

“What do I do? What do I do?” Roy gripped the feathered arrow in terror, wanting to pull it out but not daring to. “Useless!” Big Beard cursed, then dragged Quinn to the edge of the platform and positioned him face down, his chest hanging over the side.

Just as Roy was about to say thank you, a black shadow vaulted over the fence and landed on the platform. His head was encased in a black steel helmet, and he wore black leather boots, black leather pants, black hardened leather armor, and a suit of black ring mail that shimmered with a faint light. Two feathered arrows were still stuck in his mail. A longbow was slung across his back, and he held two crescent sickles. The man looked like a black demon born of the night itself. Lying prone on the platform, Roy saw the metal hooks on the toes of the black leather boots. That must have been how he climbed the Iron-wood fence. But that gear had to weigh at least a hundred pounds. How did he leap over the ditch, and how did he climb up?

“Surrender your weapons and you will not be killed!” the black demon shouted coldly. Big Beard responded with a ferocious roar. He swung his battleaxe and hurled it, a magnificent and incredibly valiant display! Then, without the slightest hesitation, he leaped off the eleven-meter-high platform. Roy stared, dumbfounded.

The spinning battleaxe missed the black demon, but it gave Captain Mor an opening. As the enemy dodged the axe, Captain Mor thrust his spear forward. His thrusting motion was practiced to perfection, clean and decisive. In his hands, the short spear seemed to come alive, transforming into a venomous snake striking for his opponent’s throat. A black shadow flashed, and a razor-sharp sickle sliced open the side of Captain Mor’s neck. Blood sprayed from the gruesome wound, forming a ghastly crimson mist. Mor collapsed limply onto the platform. The black demon had already charged into the crowd behind him, mercilessly harvesting lives and screams of agony.

“Surrender your weapons and you will not be killed!” “Surrender your weapons and you will not be killed!” “Surrender your weapons and you will not be killed!” More black demons vaulted onto the platform. In their wake, they left a storm of blood and gore. The militia finally broke. They threw down their weapons and fled in all directions; some jumped directly off the platform, while others lay on the wooden planks, trembling. Roy was one of them.

In less than a quarter of an hour, the southern fence had fallen! Captain Mor’s head lolled on his shoulder at a bizarre angle. He had bled out, never to receive the reinforcements he was waiting for.

The fighting on the platform ceased, and one by one, the black demons leaped down into the camp. Under the moonlight’s witness, the battle inside the camp raged like a wildfire. The roars and screams of men, the clash of weapons and armor, the kiss of blades on flesh, the cries of women and children, the whimpers of hunting dogs, and the jubilant caws of the Harbingers of Death—it all made it impossible for Roy to breathe, his mind a complete blank. He dazedly left the platform and wandered around the camp like a headless fly.

The camp was a one-sided slaughter. The black demons leaped and bounded between the shanties. The arrows they shot seemed to have eyes of their own. The sickles in their hands drank their fill of blood. They were cold and merciless, harvesting life after life, yet they adhered to their promise not to kill those who disarmed. Roy watched as the black demons ignored unarmed women and children; those who knelt and surrendered were also able to keep their lives. However, a few of the more cunning men dropped their spears, only to quietly pick them up again and stab the black demons in the back as they passed. But it was all in vain. The black demons were faster than the wind and more agile than mountain apes. A single turn was all it took to end an ambusher’s life. Of course, the black demons were not invincible. A militia captain felled one with a heavy crossbow, and more than twenty militiamen swarmed him, hacking him into a pulp. The Harbingers of Death circled and sang above the killing field. Several black demons burst from the shadows, slaughtered the cheering militiamen, and then melted back into the darkness, leaving only a field of mangled corpses where the blood of the dead pooled into dark puddles. The brutal scene made Roy scream aloud. He stumbled into a shanty, trembling and sobbing uncontrollably.

“If you don’t want to die, be quiet!” a familiar, mocking voice came from the corner.

“Who?” Roy leaped up like a startled rabbit. A face overgrown with a thick beard appeared in the moonlight from the window, then retreated back into the dark corner.

“Big Beard, is that you?!” Roy wiped away his tears. For the first time, he found that detestable face so very welcoming.

“Who else would it be?” Big Beard jeered from the darkness. “Don’t look like you’ve seen a ghost, Cowardly Roy.”

“You!” Roy said sullenly. “You’re no better. I thought you were a Warrior, but you’re just a deserter!”

“A Warrior?! Heh, the Warriors are all long dead…” Big Beard laughed self-deprecatingly, a hint of sorrow in his voice.

Roy was silent for a moment, then stood up and said, “Thank you for helping Quinn. I wonder how he is?”

“We only just met, but we were comrades-in-arms. I just did what I could,” Big Beard said. “That fellow will live as long as he lies still. If you go out to save him, you’ll just get yourself killed.”

Roy pulled his hand back from the door. “Those black demons kill without blinking. I’m a little worried,” he said hesitantly.

“Black demons? That’s rich. I think ‘Harbingers of Death’ is more like it, or ‘Black Ravens.’ Of course, they wouldn’t like those names, because they are all Knights!”

“Knights? How is that possible?” Roy said, shocked.

“Well, apprentice knights, to be precise!”

“How could noble Knights slaughter Commoners? Aren’t they afraid of the Supreme Lord’s punishment?” Roy shook his head, unconsciously taking a step back.

“Commoners? Heh heh…” Big Beard scoffed. “In a moment, you’ll see if they’re killing Commoners or not.”

The light outside the window suddenly flared. Roy stared at the blazing building and murmured, “They’ve set fire to the three-story wooden tower where the camp Chief lives.”

“You think that’s a wooden tower?” Big Beard walked to the window and spat on the floor. “Pah! That’s a beacon tower!” As he spoke, a troop of well-armored cavalry escorting two chiefs galloped north. The scale armor on their bodies gleamed brightly in the firelight.

“See that? The camp chiefs are wearing the scale armor of apprentice knights! They’re no Commoners.” Big Beard stroked his chin and sighed. “The Dodor men are running. The Black Ravens have won. The full knights will be making their entrance soon. A pity for all those fools who threw their lives away for nothing!”

“Knights don’t slaughter Commoners. But when a Commoner picks up a weapon to fight a Knight, he’s no longer a Commoner. He’s a bandit, a warrior, a fool! The Black Ravens know this, so they told us to drop our weapons, and I did. The Dodor apprentice knights know this too. If you had gone out just now, the Black Ravens wouldn’t have killed you, but the camp chiefs would have ordered you to gather at the camp gate and armed you to be a fool. Then, they would’ve run away themselves and left you fools to die!”

Roy was stunned for a long moment, then asked weakly, “Not a warrior? Why a fool?”

Big Beard sneered, “Being a warrior means fighting to the death! They fight to the death for land, for status, for wealth, for women! We only fight to the death to stay alive. If Gnolls had breached the camp, I would have fought to the death too. But with Knights breaching the camp, I’m just getting a new master. What are people who fight to the death for that, if not fools?”

“Those damn camp chiefs! Running away and leaving us to die!” Roy said angrily.

“Haha, don’t worry,” Big Beard laughed. “The Black Ravens have surrounded them on three sides, leaving one open. The Dodor men will have to fight for their lives to escape! I’d say it’ll be a miracle if even half of them make it out.”

Roy let out his pent-up frustration and looked out the window again, exclaiming, “Are those all Knights? So imposing.” Big Beard squeezed over, his eyes going wide. “By the Supreme Lord, that’s… that’s too many Knights!”

Outside the window, more than twenty tall, burly warriors were chasing north. They were completely encased in refined iron armor, carrying warhammers and longswords, like iron behemoths. Their heavy footsteps seemed to stomp on Roy’s heart, giving him the illusion that the very ground was shaking. Big Beard swallowed hard. “I… I take back what I just said. None of the Dodor men are getting away!”

Chapter 289: A Desperate Flight

The wind lashed his face, sharp as a knife.

Muddy earth blossomed under flying hooves. The warhorse snorted heavily, and Tao De could clearly feel its heart pounding like a drum through the saddle. If it kept running like this, this fine steed from Andal County would be ruined. But Tao De didn’t care. The infiltration mission Lord Viscount Negus had assigned him had failed. His retainer cavalry had been all but wiped out. He didn’t care about any of it. Just as he hadn’t cared about torturing and killing escaped miners to obtain Duke Erickson’s cleansing potion, nor about wallowing with the stinking freemen to restore his reputation.

Tao De had always believed that for an illegitimate son of a minor noble with no background like himself, the only way to get ahead was to be unscrupulous. If his pursuers accepted surrender, he wouldn’t mind switching masters. But Tao De knew full well that the attackers intended to hunt them all down and kill them without leaving a single one alive! Because he had discovered a secret—a secret about the attackers.

The night raid had come without any warning. In the time it took for Tao De and his retainers to wake up and don their armor, the attackers had already stormed the camp. The chaos made it impossible for Tao De to organize an effective resistance. He cursed the incompetence of the guards on duty while engaging the enemy. After a close-quarters exchange, he was shocked to find that his opponents’ strength far surpassed that of ordinary men, and was even greater than his own. His retainers thought the enemies were all apprentice knights, but Tao De knew they weren’t.

Although Tao De had been promoted to apprentice knight through a cleansing potion, he had personally experienced the characteristics of Aura and Elemental Nodes. Resonating an earth element node greatly increased his strength and Physique. Resonating a wind element node greatly increased his Perception and agility. Resonating a water element node greatly increased his stamina, slightly boosted his self-healing, and effectively enhanced his strength and agility. Resonating a fire element node enhanced his Spirit and command. Due to elemental affinities, the characteristics of apprentice knights varied. Generally speaking, male apprentice knights possessed immense strength and tough Physiques, while female apprentice knights often had greater stamina, combining both strength and dexterity. The number of resonated Elemental Nodes also contributed to individual differences. But these enemies were all nimble and perceptive, though their strength was only average. These were the clear characteristics of a wind element affinity.

A knight’s bloodline with a wind element affinity was rare to begin with. How could there possibly be dozens of apprentice knights with wind element affinity? And what’s more, there was almost no difference in their individual strength! Their martial skills were identical, their wills were firm, and they were cold and merciless. Even if their arms were chopped off, they would fight desperately to kill their foes, never crying out even in death.

Tao De was certain these attackers were not apprentice knights. They were secret art death commandos cultivated by the Gambis people—death commandos on par with apprentice knights! Just like the Church’s level four Sacred Warriors, who could rival an apprentice knight without using divine arts!

This secret sent a tremor through Tao De’s entire body. The attackers might spare the ignorant retainers, but they would never let apprentice knights like him, who understood Aura, live. By the same token, if he brought this secret back, not only would he restore his reputation and title, but he would also be summoned and rewarded by His Majesty the King.

Escaping with his life meant a meteoric rise to fame and fortune!

Therefore, Tao De didn’t hesitate to abandon his duty of guarding the camp gate, to stand by and watch the apprentice knight Wima die in battle, and to persuade Sir Falrol to flee with thirty retainer cavalry. He had to survive!

Riding a horse at night was no easy task. Tao De pushed the equestrian skills he had painstakingly practiced since childhood to their absolute limit. He gripped the reins tightly, hunched low over the horse’s back, acting as his mount’s eyes and ears. He guided it to pierce the darkness, to leap over gurgling streams and fallen dead trees. The wind howled in his ears, and the scenery on both sides blurred past in a flash. Only the hazy moonlight followed him closely, never leaving his side.

“Kree! Kree! Kree!”

The strange, piercing cries made Tao De’s face fall. He turned his head and saw the bushes on a nearby hill ripple like water as four dark shadows charged down, moving faster than his warhorse.

“Damn it!” Tao De gritted his teeth. He knew that Sir Falrol and the retainer cavalry were finished, but he hadn’t expected it to be so fast.

Not long after leaving the freemen camp, they had been tailed by these enemies riding giant birds. Tao De was no stranger to these large ground-running birds known as Swiftbirds. Besides their delicious meat, they were ill-tempered, with explosive power comparable to a brown bear. They crossed obstacles as if on flat ground, their movements swift and agile. Their powerful talons could easily kick-break a soldier’s ribs, and their hard, sharp beaks were like axes. Tao De had no desire to be pecked by one.

The Erickson family had once considered domesticating the giant birds for war, but their terrible temper and pitifully low carrying capacity had ruled out the possibility. As a result, all the Swiftbirds within the Dodor Kingdom had been hunted to extinction.

Now, the attackers had made the impossible a reality. These Swiftbird cavalry had shadowed them from the hillside. From their high ground, they used crossbows to pick off the retainer cavalrymen falling behind at the rear. Whenever Tao De and his men tried to counterattack, the Swiftbird cavalry would retreat to the high ground on the hill. Any attempt by the retainers to rescue their comrades only resulted in more casualties. The fugitives were frantic, scrambling to get to the front of the fleeing group. Two unlucky souls even fell and broke their horses’ legs. In a short chase of just three kilometers, Tao De and Sir Falrol had lost eight retainer cavalrymen, while the enemy was completely unscathed!

Facing this desperate situation, Tao De deliberately fell behind, then suddenly proposed that they scatter and flee for their lives. Without a second thought, he spurred his horse into a narrow valley. This path that was not a path was rugged and difficult to travel. Without excellent riding skills and superb vision, an ordinary person could never pass through on horseback. The other retainer cavalry had no choice but to follow Sir Falrol and continue fleeing north.

Tao De’s gamble paid off. The Swiftbird cavalry let him go, latching onto Falrol’s group and heading north. But he knew this was only temporary. Once the enemy dealt with Falrol, they would come after him sooner or later. To lighten his load, Tao De discarded his luxurious wolf-pelt cloak, his jewel-encrusted scabbard, his refined iron spear, his crossbow, his longbow, and all his arrows and crossbow bolts. He crossed the valley and ran north for two kilometers before his pursuers finally appeared.

“Faster! A little faster! We’re almost there.”

Tao De whipped his mount’s right flank. The cries of the Swiftbirds grew closer. He could almost picture the Swiftbird cavalry raising their crossbows to take aim. The warhorse seemed to hear its master’s plea, and with a sudden burst of speed, it surged forward. A crossbow bolt whizzed past its hind legs and disappeared into the bushes.

The warhorse charged out of the mountain stream, and a small grove of short trees came into Tao De’s view. Wielding his Adamantine longsword and round shield, he leaped from the galloping horse’s back, his feet touching the ground for a moment before he dove into the thick woods, vanishing without a trace in the blink of an eye. Inside the dim, dense woods, Tao De breathed a small sigh of relief. He moved quickly through the crowded saplings, the thick layer of humus on the ground absorbing the sound of his footsteps, but an alert Night Owl exposed his tracks with a strange cry.

Tao De smiled contemptuously. He walked deeper into the woods, surveyed his surroundings, and plunged his longsword, which glowed with a purple light, deep into the earth until only the hilt remained visible. He dug away the rotting leaves on the ground with his bare hands, smeared the blue refined iron scale armor with mud, and then rolled in a mud puddle several times until his armor was as dark as the forest. Only then did he stop. Next, he took out a coil of thin metal wire from his satchel and tied it between several small trees, at a height exactly level with his neck. Having done all this, Tao De pulled out his mud-caked longsword, lowered the visor of his helmet, and sat quietly under a small tree, awaiting the enemy’s arrival.

This was the graveyard Tao De had chosen for himself—to bury his enemies, or to be buried himself.

A moment later, the Night Owl’s strange cries abruptly stopped. Tao De sat there, motionless. The chirping of insects in the woods seemed to have been snuffed out by an invisible hand. Only the falling leaves whispered in his ear, speaking of the god of death’s footsteps. A crossbow bolt shot out from the darkness. Ting! It ricocheted off the curved surface of his refined iron helmet. Tao De raised his round shield to cover his face. Another bolt struck him in the chest. The tip pierced his scale armor but failed to penetrate the tough leather underneath. Feeling the sting on his skin, Tao De laughed loudly. “A crossbow can’t hurt me! Come and take my life with your sword!”

In response, one crossbow bolt after another flew at him. Suddenly, a blurry black shadow flashed in, skimming along the ground, and was in front of him in an instant. Tao De couldn’t track his opponent’s movements; he could only see a faint glint of light slashing towards his chest and abdomen. Without hesitation, he swung his sword in a diagonal slash. Surging power propelled the longsword forward. The blade didn’t waver or deform under the pressure of the air. The strong air pressure stripped the mud from the blade, revealing its indestructible purple gleam. The thick air was cut open by the sharp edge, letting out a sharp sound like tearing silk.

This was the most ordinary of diagonal slashes, yet it was like a great river flowing downward, like a crash of thunder and a flash of lightning. This slash did not dodge or block; it was a strike born from the face of death. And yet, it missed. The black shadow was like an incorporeal specter, an formless gust of wind, that slid along the momentum of his blade to get behind him.

Tao De was of humble birth and his bloodline was impure. He had only managed to advance to apprentice knight by relying on a cleansing potion. His swordsmanship was not as fluid and unrestrained as that of a true knight, but he practiced more diligently than any vassal soldier. A knight of the Erickson family had once praised Tao De: “The spirit is in his sword, an extension of his own arm.” In over twenty years, Tao De had swung his sword more than a hundred thousand times. The most basic sword techniques were long since etched into his soul, becoming a kind of instinct.

The blade flew up, chasing the flowing air, turning behind him to slice through leather armor, through flesh and bone, cutting his enemy in two.

An ordinary diagonal slash had turned into a simple backswing slash, finishing a powerful opponent. But Tao De couldn’t feel any joy. Blood was seeping from his wounds—one on his chest and abdomen, one on his back, and one on his thigh. Before he had killed his opponent, the enemy’s refined iron scimitar had struck him three times. If not for his sturdy scale armor, he would already be a corpse.

Tao De had just pulled the crossbow bolt from his armor when an icy chill suddenly descended from above. He had no time to think. He threw himself to the ground, scrambling forward a meter on all fours in a most unsightly manner.

It was a distance that decided life and death.

The enemy who had pounced from the treetops was caught in mid-air by the iron wire Tao De had set up earlier. The sharp wire cut into the enemy’s thigh but failed to sever the bone. The attacker’s own weight, combined with the kinetic energy of the pounce, caused the flesh of his thigh to be flayed clean off along the wire. Warm blood splattered onto Tao De’s face. He saw a pair of emotionless eyes and a faint blue scimitar. The bone-chilling killing intent almost froze his soul. Tao De let out a wild cry and thrust his sword upward.

Squish! Splat!

The longsword pierced the enemy’s head from below, while the scimitar stabbed down into Tao De’s abdomen. Tao De gritted his teeth against the searing pain, pulled the scimitar from his belly, then drew out his blood-stained longsword. He struggled to his feet and checked his injuries.

The wound was neither deep nor shallow, but it had damaged his intestines. Any more intense fighting, and he would surely die.

Tao De shook his head with a bitter smile. He knew he was no match for the attackers, but he hadn’t expected the gap to be this great. He had used every trick up his sleeve and had barely managed to eliminate two enemies, but he himself was gravely injured. And there were at least two more attackers in the woods, with even more on their way.

The Swiftbird light cavalry held an absolute advantage in numbers, individual strength, and tactical coordination. Tao De knew that if he couldn’t turn the tables, there was no way he would survive. He had ordered them to scatter and flee to split up the pursuers. He had hidden in the small grove to hinder the Swiftbirds’ coordinated attacks and force the attackers into close combat. The mud was for camouflage. The attackers would have to split up to search for their target. Tying the thin iron wire could weaken the attackers’ mobility.

Tao De knew that the Swiftbirds had poor carrying capacity, so the attackers could only wear light armor. His plan was to use the terrain and his equipment to turn his disadvantage into an advantage, creating a one-on-one situation against a lightly armored enemy, then use a mutually-destructive fighting style to take them down. To the east of this grove was a ridge where the Lord Viscount had set up an observation post. The beacon tower at the freemen camp had already been lit; Lord Negus would surely dispatch knights to investigate the situation at the camp. Tao De’s plan was to first eliminate the opponents who were closely pursuing him, and then try to rendezvous with the Lord Viscount’s knights before the main force of pursuers arrived. Now, all he could do was gamble on his luck.

The monsoon wind blew through the forest, making the tree shadows sway like a chaotic dance of demons. Tao De tied his abdominal wound tightly, and holding his longsword, he walked towards the edge of the woods. He couldn’t shake the feeling that his every move was being watched. Right now, he just wanted to leave this gloomy and terrifying place as soon as possible.

Outside the woods, the low-hanging silver moon struggled to cast its last rays of light. The whole world was about to plunge into the darkness before dawn. Tao De’s heart turned to ash. A dozen attackers, mounted on powerful Swiftbirds, were circling outside the forest.

Tao De shrank back into the cover of the bushes and lay powerlessly on the ground, quietly experiencing the last moments of his life. Just then, the sound of a heavy object falling to the ground came from outside the woods, immediately followed by the berserk shriek of a Swiftbird. Tao De’s heart stirred. He peeked out to look and saw a slender figure on the ridge, like a sharp dagger.

“Lord Negus?”

“Tao De, just come here.”

The distant voice drifted over with the wind, like the cool moonlight, dispelling the gloom in Tao De’s heart. He laughed aloud and walked out of the forest, charging towards the ridge four hundred meters away.

The Swiftbird light cavalry was right behind him, but Tao De was fearless. Several streaks of blue light shot out from the ridge, piercing the hearts of his pursuers, killing them one by one. The Swiftbird cavalry chased their prey, one falling after another. Their speed surpassed Tao De’s, but he didn’t care. Facing the interception of a wind-element Great Knight, these death commandos wouldn’t be able to touch a hair on his head. Tao De ran at the speed of a galloping horse for three hundred meters, and already four cavalrymen and five Swiftbirds had fallen to Viscount Negus’s arrows.

Just another hundred meters or so, and I’ll be safe. The closest Swiftbird rider is still over sixty meters away. My lord will shoot him down any second now, and that Swiftbird too. Right, Lord Negus hasn’t tasted Swiftbird meat yet. After the battle is over, I’ll collect all this delicacy. My lord will surely be pleased! My lord is adjusting his position… why isn’t my lord making his move yet? My lord…

Before Tao De’s astonished eyes, Viscount Negus first shifted his position lightly, glanced at his side, then hesitantly put away the Dragonbone Mithril bow that struck terror into his enemies. He then gave an elegant Knight’s salute towards the deep woods, turned his back, and vanished over the ridge.

A bone-deep chill spread from Tao De’s heart throughout his entire body. He slowly came to a stiff halt. A vicious kick landed on his back, sending him flying several meters. The Swiftbird’s axe-like beak smashed down on his helmet. Tao De’s consciousness plunged into darkness.

A long arrow was embedded in the very spot where Viscount Negus had just been standing, fired from the small woods five hundred meters away.

Chapter 290: A Personal Visit

The next afternoon, in the lord’s great hall of Raven Castle.

When Lilia pushed open the oak door, she saw Victor standing alone by the window, gazing down below. She walked over, hugged his arm, and said in a sweet voice, “Darling, what are you thinking about?”

Victor wrapped his arm around his personal handmaiden’s slender waist and pulled her into his embrace. “Last night, so many people died,” he asked, perplexed. “Why do they seem… rather happy?”

Below the castle, carts laden with supplies, herds of cattle and sheep, and a long queue of over a thousand men, women, and children were streaming across the drawbridge into Raven Town. These people came from the conquered freemen camp, their faces alight with excitement and joy, completely devoid of the sorrow and grief of losing loved ones. The slaughter of the previous night seemed like a nightmare—frightening, yet unreal.

“My dear lord, you wouldn’t find it strange if you knew their origins.” Lilia glanced down once before looking away. “According to Butz, most of these people are refugees. They spent over three years pioneering land for the Erickson family before they were granted the status of subjects. A while ago, the Erickson family suffered a major upheaval, and their duchy was carved up by the Dodor Kingdom. The new lord reclaimed their land and confiscated all the property they had saved. Not only did they become refugees again, but they were also coerced by the Erickson family’s deserting soldiers into building that freemen camp. The freemen guards in the camp took women for themselves and formed their own families, while the others could only swallow their anger. Last night, the camp guards suffered heavy casualties, and not many will grieve for them. Hmm… to say they took the women is a bit of an exaggeration. Refugee women are used to latching onto the strong. It’s just that they hadn’t been together long, so no deep feelings had developed yet.”

“…” Victor was taken aback for a moment, then shook his head and chuckled. “And here I was, worried they would harbor hatred… It seems I was overthinking things.”

“A lion doesn’t need to care about the thoughts of sheep. If these lower-class people dare to have any ill intentions, Town Mayor Butz will take care of them. I’d say they can’t be happy enough. They really got off easy!”

Lilia pouted her delicate, cherry-pink lips, her indignant expression reminiscent of the young mercenary girl she once was. Victor couldn’t help but kiss her smooth, fair forehead. “A wise sovereign should listen to the voices of his subjects,” he said. “So… Darling, why are they happy?”

“Because of Raven Castle!” Lilia stomped on the castle floor. Seeing Victor’s look of disdain, she softened her tone and coaxed, “Darling, I know you think Raven Castle’s walls aren’t smooth enough. But it’s still a castle. It has over a hundred rooms, six watchtowers, and can house three hundred soldiers…” Lilia took a breath and continued, “Darling, back when we were mercenaries, we would have dreamed of settling down behind a castle.”

A castle was the manifestation of a lord’s military power and represented his legitimate right to rule. It was not just a fortification but also the political center of the fief. Only the lord’s family soldiers were qualified to live behind its walls. Mercenaries existed in a gray area, half-legitimate, half-not. They yearned to be accepted by a lord and become his family soldiers. This was a matter of legitimacy, a problem the freemen camp also faced.

The relationship of protection, redemption, and devotion formed the most fundamental order of human kingdoms. A lord who failed to protect his fief and subjects would lose his title. A clergy member who abandoned the creed of redemption would lose divine favor. A commoner who did not fulfill their duty of devotion was considered an uncivilized outlaw—in other words, illegitimate.

For thousands of years, this view had been deeply ingrained and was unshakable.

The freemen camp had no one to whom they could offer devotion, so they were often equated with bandits and roving bandits. They had to face not only the threats of monsters and dire animals but also expulsion by lords. Although the Church was full of pity for these “lost lambs,” as they called them, there was little they could do. This was because the people who hated the freemen camps the most were the ordinary villagers; the lords were merely acting on the will of their subjects.

The vast majority of freemen camps hoped to be accepted by a lord and become registered subjects of a fief, and a castle was a clear symbol of a lord’s legitimate status. Back then, Victor had no castle, and the leader of the freemen camp feigned compliance while secretly disobeying, which was a way of questioning Victor’s legitimacy.

The area around Raven Town was desolate and overrun with dire animals, making the pioneering environment even more perilous than Randell Fief had been. But it had a castle. To the freemen, this meant order and civilization. As long as they were accepted by Raven Town, they would receive the lord’s protection and the priests’ redemption. They could then declare with righteous conviction, “I am pioneering this land for my master.”

Legitimacy was paramount. It was an order built collectively by knights, clergy, and common people, and it affected everyone’s future. Only by joining Raven Town could these freemen have a path for advancement—a chance to strive to become vassal nobles or servants of the Supreme Lord.

Lilia had come from a mercenary background, so she had the most intuitive understanding of the common folk’s perspective. From the standpoint of Raven Town’s residents, these freemen were all bandits plundering the fief’s resources and should be driven out. Now that Raven Town was willing to take them in, they certainly had reason to be happy.

“I gave the order to storm the camp and kill people, yet they are grateful to me. It’s truly strange,” Victor said self-mockingly.

“It’s always been like this. Most of the refugees in the freemen camp were coerced into being there. They’re just a rabble with no sense of honor,” Lilia said dismissively, then covered her mouth and giggled. “My lord, you are too benevolent.”

“Lilia, you must remember, benevolence is not weakness. Only foolish and incompetent lords rule their subjects with cruelty and fear. A wise lord must possess the quality of benevolence… at least in name.” Victor shook his head and sighed. “The situation in Raven Town is more complicated than I anticipated. It’s too far from Randell Fief. We must recognize that the Dodor lords and Soren’s Viscounty have far more influence over Raven Town than I do. At a time like this, the people within Raven鎮 Town must be stable…”

Lilia blinked and said, “Are you worried these people will side with the Dodor lords? Then why not just drive them all away?”

“If we do that, we’ll lose the Church’s support on the matter of Raven Town… Never mind, we’ll discuss this later.” Victor released Lilia, turned toward his desk, and sat down. “Have the spoils of war been tallied?”

Lilia sat down opposite Victor and began to list the figures with a smile. “Yes. We captured 734 sheep, 87 cattle, 27 warhorses, 170,000 pounds of rye, 80,000 pounds of nuts, 10,000 pounds of cured meat, 187 sets of old leather armor, 60 sets of intact steel ring mail, 233 spears, 211 longbows, 12,000 feathered arrows, 40 crossbows, and 2,300 crossbow bolts.” She took a deep breath and added excitedly, “Darling, there are also 15 military heavy crossbows!”

The military heavy crossbow was the most powerful individual weapon for an ordinary soldier. Currently, only the Dodor Kingdom could produce this terrifying weapon. Its power was immense, and its circulation was strictly controlled. These 15 military heavy crossbows were priceless. It was no wonder Lilia was so excited, but she didn’t know that Victor possessed the even deadlier Thorium heavy crossbow.

A heavy crossbow couldn’t create the terrifying internal cavitation within a target’s body like a sniper rifle could. It had proven to have limited lethality against large monsters, and its production was constrained by the availability of dire animal sinew. Victor wasn’t particularly concerned about these military heavy crossbows. He smiled faintly. “This only proves that the freemen camp was actually a Dodor military camp. What are their numbers and casualties?”

Lilia nodded. “The camp had a total of 1,105 people: 513 adult men, 339 adult women, 102 children under fifteen, and 151 elderly over sixty. The assault resulted in 58 deaths, 23 serious injuries, and 87 minor injuries. The casualties were mainly the camp guards. The dead have been buried, and the wounded have all been treated.” After a pause, Lilia’s expression grew somber. “My lord, you lost five Elite Soldiers, and… and six Swiftbird light cavalry did not return.”

“They have been sacrificed… a bunch of fools,” Victor said, rapping his knuckles on the desk, unable to hold back his complaint.

To test the combat effectiveness of his Alchemical militia, Victor had deployed 50 alchemical crows, 30 Swiftbird light cavalry, 80 Lithe Ape militiamen, and 25 Crouching Ox militiamen. Their combined strength surpassed that of most top-tier nobles, and their opponents were just a rabble. However, the Alchemical militia’s performance was less than satisfactory. They strictly followed Victor’s orders but lacked independent judgment. They shouted for the enemy to disarm and surrender, recklessly exposing their own positions, and were unable to identify enemy leaders to quickly dismantle their command structure. This not only led to significant casualties but also resulted in five Lithe Ape militiamen being killed in ambushes.

The performance of the Swiftbird light cavalry angered Victor even more. Despite being clearly stronger, two of them were killed in a counterattack by a single apprentice knight. When they encountered resistance from a high-ranking knight, they didn’t know to spread out, flank, and call for reinforcements, instead just feeding him kills one after another. If Victor hadn’t intervened in time, the entire unit would have been annihilated. That apprentice knight, however, had left a deep impression on Victor. He was agile, cunning, and used tactics to overcome a stronger foe, perfectly demonstrating the power of intelligence.

Victor lowered his head and thought for a moment before turning his gaze to Lilia. “Darling, do you know why I was in such a hurry to destroy that freemen camp?”

Lilia’s eyes flickered. She opened her mouth, then shook her head with a faint smile. The War Bear Mercenary Company had often been hired by lords to clear out refugee camps, but a smart woman knew when to let her man take the stage. Lilia was just that sharp as a tack.

“It was only after becoming a lord myself that I learned that many freemen camps, or groups of bandits, are instigated by other lords to attack rival families, rob caravans, control remote areas, and expand territory. This freemen camp had over a thousand people, abundant supplies, and formidable strength. That’s a scale that a normal group of freemen could never achieve. They must be a stronghold planted by the Dodor in Raven Town, and a brazen one at that!”

“If I hadn’t caught them off guard, the Dodor would have certainly intervened and used the excuse of protecting commoners to stop me from clearing out this stronghold. They would have dragged us into endless negotiations. But I can’t afford to be delayed; Randell Fief is, after all, a thousand kilometers away. The Dodor people know this very well. Therefore, we must respond to their ambitions with the most resolute attitude. If they extend a hand, we chop it off. If they extend a foot, we cut it off. There can be no hesitation.”

Victor chuckled. “Now, the population and supplies of this camp are all in my hands. I imagine the Dodor are hopping mad.”

Lilia frowned. “Will the Dodor attack Raven Town?”

“No!” Victor said with certainty. “The fact that the Dodor are resorting to such underhanded tactics shows that they don’t dare to provoke a war. This is likely a bluff, a feint to mask a retreat!”

“A bluff?”

“Yes!” Victor nodded. “The relationship between the Dodor Kingdom and our Gambis is currently very delicate. We are allies, yet we are wary of each other. Viscount Negus is equally worried that the Rose Knights will march north and seize his stone quarry. Taking a step forward now is to concede less in the future. The Dodor are putting on this aggressive posture because they want me to ask the York family to resolve the dispute, so they can do Lady Sylvia a favor. That way, the York family would be at a moral disadvantage… Nobles place great importance on reputation. They’ll find all sorts of bizarre excuses even when launching a war for profit. The Sasan Empire clearly wants to unify the south, yet the Sasan Emperor insists it’s to wash away the shame of his ancestor’s exile by the Dodor royal family. These are the rules of the nobles’ game.” Victor sneered again. “The Dodor thought I was a pushover who had to rely on Sylvia. In the end, they lifted a rock only to drop it on their own feet.”

Lilia rested her cheek in her hand and said blissfully, “My lord is the greatest lord of all.”

Being praised by his own woman, Victor couldn’t help but feel a little smug. He smiled. “There must be soldiers placed by Viscount Negus among these freemen. Find them as soon as possible. These people are useful talents.”

“No need to look,” Lilia said with a soft sigh. “They’re all dead.”

“What?” Victor’s gaze turned icy, and he said angrily, “Without my order, who dared to act on their own? Was it that fellow Gru? Summon him!”

“I gave the order.” Lilia met Victor’s surprised gaze and explained, “Darling, the core members were mostly Duke Erickson’s soldiers. Their families are being held by Viscount Negus, so they would never serve us. If we let them go, they’ll just come back. Keeping them would be a hidden danger.” Lilia paused and added, “Clearing out bandit lairs is something the mercenary company is used to. Our employers always demand we first interrogate the bandit leaders and core members about their origins, then kill them all as a warning to others.”

Victor was stunned for a moment, then shook his head with a wry smile. “Your status is different now. It’s best not to kill prisoners in the future.”

Seeing that Victor was no longer angry, Lilia secretly stuck out her tongue. “Our men didn’t do it. The freemen did… Gru just incited them a little.”

Just as she spoke, a knock came from the door. Victor called out, “Come in.”

Gru pushed the door open and entered with a fawning smile. “Good day, my lord. Good day, my lady.”

“What is it?” Victor asked, still annoyed.

“There are two people outside the castle who wish to see you. One of them claims to be Viscount Negus.”

Victor asked in surprise, “What? Are you sure it’s two people? Not a whole retinue?”

Gru replied with utmost respect, “A noble with one attendant. Just two people. We’ve detected no caravan within a ten-kilometer radius.”

Victor leaned back in his chair and murmured, “Visiting alone… Viscount Negus certainly has some nerve.”

Chapter 291: A Promise is a Promise

Gaibert, Viscount Negus: a sixty-four-year-old wind-element Great Knight, a Court Earl, King Friedrich’s Bow-Bearer, the Guardian of Whitewater Fortress, the Warner of Sasan knightly legend, and now, a lord on the western frontier of the Dodor Kingdom and the northern neighbor of Raven Town.

A knight’s titles were not born of rumor, nor were they self-proclaimed. They were bestowed by a King, the Church, or praised aloud by one’s enemies, forged through outstanding battle achievements and extraordinary merit. They were the reputation and glory that every Knight-Noble pursued. Gaibert Negus was well-deserving of his.

At fifteen, Negus first made a name for himself at the Dodor Kingdom’s royal court martial tournament. He was chosen as a retainer guard for Prince Friedrich, entering the court to receive education as a royal knight. At twenty-seven, he advanced to a wind-element Knight and joined the Dodor Imperial Guard with the rank of Court Baron. Four years later, Prince Friedrich inherited the throne and began to promote his confidants. Negus became the new king’s Bow-Bearer and served as the deputy commander of the Dodor Imperial Guard. At thirty-six, Negus successfully advanced to a wind-element Great Knight, was granted the title of Court Viscount, and joined the Iron Wall Knights. He began to clash with Sasan knights on the front lines, where he established a brilliant combat record.

Negus had received the education of a royal knight; he respected knights of noble blood and disdained nobles of impure bloodlines. On the battlefield, he followed noble tradition, first firing a single Adamantine-fletched arrow to warn Sasan knights, giving them a chance to abandon their spoils and retreat. If he encountered them again, Negus would mercilessly slaughter the Sasan knight’s retainers before capturing the knight alive, a feat he had never failed to accomplish.

During the period when Negus was active on the battlefield, the Sasan Empire’s lords paid hundreds of thousands of Gold Sols in ransom to the Dodor Kingdom to retrieve their captured family knights. It reached a point where the King of Dodor would frequently send men to ask, “Has Negus caught any ‘walking wallets’ lately?” Sasan knights, on the other hand, paled at the mere mention of Negus’s name, to the extent that they no longer dared to equip Adamantine weapons. Some of the smaller families simply stopped dispatching knights to participate in the war. For this, Negus became known as “the Warner” among the Sassans.

Five years later, the renowned Negus left the Iron Wall Knights to assume command of Whitewater Fortress and was granted the title of Court Earl. Everyone believed Earl Negus to be a gentle, traditional nobleman, but in the Battle of Whitewater Fortress, he showed the world the terrifying side of a wind-element Great Knight: of the three Great Knights the Sasan Empire lost, two fell to Negus’s Dragonbone Mithril bow.

After the war, the Sasan nobles cursed Negus, calling him a “deceitful viper.” Two of their highnesses even publicly vowed revenge. Bowing to diplomatic pressure, and also for Negus’s own protection, His Majesty King Friedrich relieved him of his command at Whitewater Fortress, and he rejoined the Iron Wall Knights. As the situation developed, the Iron Wall Knights advanced upon the Minsk fortress complex in the Kingdom of Gambia, forcing Marquess Golan to lead his army into a standoff, which indirectly led to the death of His Majesty, King Ryan Auguste. It was there that Negus met the young Soren Wimbledon. Although the two never fought, Soren had effectively kept Negus occupied.

Now, Soren had become the lord of the Centaur Hills, and Negus, too, had come to the Centaur Hills, right to Raven Castle.

In the great hall of Raven Castle, armored soldiers stood guard as Victor sat upon the lord’s throne. He found it difficult to connect the elegant, dashingly handsome nobleman before him with the renowned Extraordinary Knight of legend. Viscount Negus’s manner of travel was equally surprising: a single banner, one retainer, and three horses, like a minor noble on a tour, not a lord of high rank and authority. Behind this, of course, was the confidence and composure of a wind-element Great Knight who held the world in disdain. But Victor had to admit, Negus’s bearing had made a favorable impression on him.

“Your Excellency Negus, your visit graces Raven Castle,” Victor said with a smile. “I will host a banquet to welcome you and wash away the dust of your journey.”

“Your esteemed Excellency Wimbledon, I am grateful for your generous invitation, but I am afraid I have no time for an evening banquet,” Negus said with a slight bow and a sigh. “Duke Erickson’s crime of privately minting coins has been exposed. Witnessed by the Church, the duke himself has been publicly executed under the law by the wise King Friedrich, and the Erickson family has received its due punishment. However, the scoundrels and accomplices the duke gathered have scattered. They have become bandits and roving brigands, roaming this land, plundering supplies, and preying upon the villagers. As a lord, I must eliminate these villains as soon as possible to protect the people of my fief.”

“I have come today, first, to visit my new neighbor, and also to remind you, Your Excellency, to be wary of harassment from these thieves.”

Victor nodded. “Just last night, a band of thieves attacked a freemen camp not far from here. By the time my guards arrived, they had already killed and wounded many freemen and fled north. My Swiftbird cavalry pursued them through the night and finally annihilated them in the wilderness. All the bandits were beheaded, and none escaped.” Victor sighed again. “Considering the safety of the freemen, I ordered that camp to be dismantled, and all the freemen have been moved into Raven Town. Father Gary is on his way; he will comfort the frightened people, treat the wounded, and investigate this attack before making a determination.”

“This is truly good news! I will provide the Church with a written document testifying that you have eliminated a band of brigands!” Negus was all smiles, agreeing with Victor’s account from the bottom of his heart.

That freemen camp had indeed been acting on Negus’s orders, but in his eyes, the soldiers controlling the camp, including the three apprentice knights of low birth, were no different from bandits. Victor had wiped out the freemen camp with lightning speed, cleanly eliminating the enemy and nipping the threat in the bud. Although their standpoints were different, Victor’s perceptiveness and decisiveness were very much to Negus’s liking—especially the arrow Victor had shot. Negus was particularly pleased with that.

Wind Walk Archers were different from wind-element Great Knights. The arrows they loosed were silent, wreathed in a faint breeze that did not disturb the void wind element, and thus could not attract the attention of an Extraordinary Knight. Last night, Victor had been hidden in the shadows, aided by his Swiftbird light cavalry. Negus was still completely confident he could have escaped unscathed, but he also knew he could not have saved Tao De. If Victor had killed Tao De directly, Negus would have lost all face. In his view, Victor’s warning shot was a sign of respect. Therefore, Negus chose to back down. He would not reject the “goodwill” of one with such noble blood for the sake of an insignificant pawn. Besides, Victor’s bloodline was inferior to none of the highnesses—it was a truly ancient bloodline.

“Your esteemed Excellency, although my surname is not Wimbledon, I too possess the noble blood of the Wimbledons, and I take pride in it. In fact, wind-element knights and nobles of elven blood all originate from two great families: Wimbledon and Testier, one of the Seven Great Paladin Families. My maternal grandmother was the daughter of Lady Kalesa Wimbledon, and Lady Kalesa was a cousin to your own great-grandfather,” Negus said with a mixture of reserve and pride.

“…” Victor said, “A pity the Wimbledon family has fallen…” He had no desire to acknowledge this man as an uncle of any sort.

“That does not diminish the nobility in our blood,” Negus said with a laugh. “I have brought you a gift.” As he spoke, the retainer behind him produced an oaken box and respectfully handed it to one of the guards in the great hall. The box reached Victor’s hands. Inside was a dark, lustrous metal ingot. “Is this… Dragonbone Steel?” Victor asked, uncertain.

“Correct. This is Carlier soft steel, also known as Dragonbone Steel. A specialty product of our Dodor Kingdom.” Negus nodded and said, “You can use it to forge a supple sword or flexible armor. You can also use it to craft the bodies of twenty military heavy crossbows, or… the body of a Dragonbone Mithril greatbow.”

It really pales in comparison to Thorium, Victor thought, but he said aloud, “I was just in need of a decent bow. I like your gift very much. I will give you two hundred pounds of coffee as a gift in return.”

Coffee, an element-attuning beverage, was highly sought after by Knight-Nobles, but its limited supply and exorbitant price were equally staggering. Negus’s eyes lit up, and he said with a laugh, “No one would refuse such a return gift, not even out of polite pretense.”

With the connection established and gifts exchanged, Viscount Negus broached the subject at the opportune moment. “Your Excellency Wimbledon, the Erickson family left me with quite a mess. Those roving bandits possess warhorses and weapons supplied by Duke Erickson, and they are a threat to Raven Town. To eliminate these brigands as soon as possible, I must establish border outposts to squeeze their room for activity. Once the border is established, I guarantee that Raven Town will not be troubled by bandits!”

“To avoid any unnecessary misunderstandings, I have a map here…”

A guard took the map from the viscount’s retainer and spread it on Victor’s table. Negus continued, “According to the original agreement, the border between our two families is four kilometers north of that stream. If Your Excellency agrees, shall we build our border outposts according to this map?”

Victor studied the map for a moment, then looked up. “I have a map here as well.” He took a large parchment scroll from his drawer and gestured for a guard to deliver it to Negus.

Viscount Negus unrolled the scroll, his eyes instantly sharpening. This map depicted the mountains, rivers, forests, and lakes within a two-hundred-kilometer radius in great detail, but it had no borders drawn on it. Victor raised his voice and said, “The Centaur Hills are vast and boundless, and the mountain range to the west stretches on endlessly. We in Gambia call it the Relier Mountains; the Dodor Kingdom calls it the Larkspur Mountains. This range connects to the Great Plains in the north and the Goldwater River in the south. It not only divides the Great Lizard Marsh but also the Endless Forest. If calculated by the length of the mountain range, the area of the Centaur Hills exceeds three hundred thousand square kilometers.”

“We in Gambia effectively control one hundred seventy thousand square kilometers, while Dodor effectively controls only one hundred ten thousand. This is because Duke Erickson was insatiably greedy. He drew an area of fifty thousand square kilometers on a map and forbade other families from pioneering within his designated zone. However, the Erickson family’s foundation was shallow. Despite Duke Erickson’s frantic expansion—going so far as to privately mint coins and recruit mercenaries and refugees to serve as family soldiers—he only ever effectively controlled twenty-seven thousand square kilometers. There are still twenty-three thousand square kilometers awaiting pioneering.”

“We all know that a legitimate fief must have the joint recognition of the nobles, the Church, and the commoners. That is, it must possess a castle, villagers, and missionaries.” Victor closed the map and said flatly, “Simply drawing a line on a map is meaningless.”

Negus pondered for a moment, then nodded. “I agree with your point, Your Excellency. Within the fief granted to me by His Majesty King Friedrich, there are still seven thousand square kilometers of wilderness. If you have the ability to pioneer that land, I will recognize your legal ownership. However, you—and indeed the York family behind you—likely lack the energy to expand further, do you not?”

Negus’s assessment was astute, but Victor had no intention of letting the matter drop. He smiled. “That depends on whose side time is on.”

Negus shook his head and smiled back. “Your Excellency, we have a common enemy. If we cannot reach an agreement quickly, I fear there will be endless trouble.”

“The bandits?”

“No. The Gnolls!” Negus sighed. “The map you’ve drawn is very detailed. You couldn’t possibly be unaware that a horde of Gnolls occupies that wasteland. I have personally scouted that wilderness. There are over two thousand Gnolls entrenched there, along with a large number of Goblins and Kobolds. It’s fortunate that a few dire wolves are active north of Raven Town; otherwise, the Gnolls would have already appeared near your town.”

“Currently, these Gnolls are in a phase of internal strife and slaughter, but they will soon form a clan. When that happens, the dire wolves will have no choice but to flee into the mountains, and Raven Town will be attacked by the Gnolls. My fief will also be in great danger!”

Negus’s tone grew grave. “A Gnoll clan is nothing like Gnoll bandits. It’s not impossible that another Gnoll King might arise from among them!”

Negus was thoroughly frustrated. The Ant-man army had swept through the Centaur Hills, leaving Gambia in a terrible state, while the Dodor Kingdom had secretly rejoiced. But when the Ant-man tide receded, it left the York family a squeaky-clean territory and pushed all the monsters and beasts from the south up north. Wolf packs, moon-bladed leopards, spotted tigers, grizzly bears, dire animals, and the seemingly endless supply of Goblins, Kobolds, and Gnolls. This was precisely why the Erickson family’s pioneering efforts had been so slow, and why Negus was now facing such a headache.

“Clearing out the Gnolls cannot be delayed!”

Negus made his position resoundingly clear, and Victor deeply agreed. Gnolls were cruel and cunning, with keen Perception and high mobility. Their individual combat strength surpassed that of an Elite Soldier. The thirty-to-one ratio for entering a Savage state was horrifying, and Savage Gnolls commonly possessed the Bloodlust talent, making their strength comparable to an apprentice knight. A Gnoll clan, compared to Gnoll bandits, was the difference between an army and a rabble. With Goblin and Kobold slaves, their combat effectiveness increased exponentially. To defend against the Gnoll King of the Twilight Forest, the Church had stationed twenty thousand Sacred Warriors north of the Kingdom of Sus, while the Kingdom of Sus itself garrisoned over sixty thousand troops. The threat of the Gnolls was plain to see.

However, over two thousand Gnolls were nothing in Victor’s eyes. The question was, what did he need so much land for?

An ordinary lord would want his fief to be as large as possible, but Victor’s sights were set on all of human society. Pioneering the north had never been his strategic focus. The House of Randell lacked talent capable of taking charge of a front alone. The larger the territory Raven Town controlled, the heavier Victor’s burden would become, and he even risked losing control.

If Viscount Negus wanted to pioneer more territory, then let him be the one to get entangled with the Gnolls. In truth, no single family could monopolize all the land and resources. It was better to have the alchemical creatures continue mining Thorium and developing the smuggling caravan than to throw them into the north to exterminate Gnolls. Plundering wealth through trade was Victor’s true purpose in this negotiation with Negus.

“Your Excellency Negus, you are absolutely correct. But my fief is in the south. After this Season of Wind inspection is over, I must return to the Randell Fief. Therefore, I am unable to join you in eliminating the Gnolls.” Victor put on a troubled expression. “I agree to the border drawn on the map. I will feed those dire wolves with cattle and sheep to ensure they do not hinder your forces. This is all I can do. However, I have one request.”

A glint shone in Viscount Negus’s eyes. “Your Excellency, please speak plainly,” he said.

“When you exterminate the Gnolls, they will inevitably scatter, and the Savage Gnolls will pose a threat to Raven Town. My Raven Castle, as you have seen, has walls that are not smooth enough… I need to purchase your stone to repair this castle,” Victor said.

“That’s impossible. And you know very well why,” Negus replied, shaking his head in refusal.

“Three million pounds of raw sugar!”

“What?!”

Victor stood up and smiled. “Pioneering a fief is extremely expensive. For any Pioneer Lord, money is always in short supply! Otherwise, Duke Erickson would not have resorted to privately minting coins. You must have heard about the current market for raw sugar, Your Excellency. I am willing to trade three million pounds of raw sugar for your stone. This place is remote and sparsely populated; no one will care about some stone being transported secretly. Moreover, I guarantee this stone will only be used to rebuild Raven Castle, and I will absolutely not build a second castle.”

Negus was greatly tempted. He thought for a moment, then probed, “Then, what do you plan to do with the stone dismantled from Raven Castle?”

“I will have it polished smooth and use it to build the walls of Raven Town,” Victor said, first offering a pill of reassurance. “However, raw sugar is a strategic material right now. I am also taking a considerable risk by providing you with such a large quantity. To be safe, I can only hire a mercenary company to transport it in batches over time. Your Excellency must also guarantee the safety and secrecy of my men. Do you agree?”

Viscount Negus rose to his feet and performed a Knight’s salute. “A promise is a promise!”

“A promise is a promise!”

Chapter 292: Correctness and Loyalty

Victor stood on the city wall, his gaze lingering until Viscount Negus was a distant, invisible speck before he finally looked away.

The education of a Knight was steeped in the six Virtues: courage, wisdom, humility, honor, mercy, and loyalty. Of course, the objects of a Knight’s virtues could only be other Nobles: the Knight himself, his liege lord, his vassals, and even his opponents who were also Knights. Negus was one of King Dodor’s retainer knights, and his loyalty to his liege was beyond question; otherwise, His Majesty King Friedrich would never have entrusted such a vast territory to him. Yet, not long after becoming a lord, Negus had struck a deal with Victor to trade stone for raw sugar, an act that clearly went against his liege’s will. Though this raw sugar trade was ultimately more beneficial to the Dodor Kingdom, it had undoubtedly pried open a crack in the dam of Negus’s loyalty.

In truth, all lords were the same. The King was the lord’s liege, and the lord, as a vassal, swore fealty to the King. But how many lords were truly loyal? Victor himself had once sworn to serve Queen Catherine, only to turn around and draw a clear line between himself and the Queen’s faction. The York family had once sworn allegiance to the Royal Family, but the two sides had nearly come to blows. And the Auguste family had once been vassals to the House of Neowist—had they not also betrayed their own liege lord?

Thus, loyalty was inversely proportional to distance and faded with the passage of time. It could be lauded as a virtue, but it could not be sustained by virtue alone.

As the saying goes, a general in the field is not always bound by his sovereign’s decrees. As the westernmost lord of the Dodor Kingdom, far from the kingdom’s center of power, Negus had to make the most rational choice when faced with Gnolls and a powerful neighbor, even if it meant defying His Majesty King Friedrich’s wishes. He would do so without hesitation.

If a wind-element Great Knight of court noble origin acted this way, what could be expected of Raven Town’s mayor, Butz, and Old Ham?

Raven Town was situated next to the Relier Mountains and bordered the Dodor Kingdom. Its geographical position was uniquely advantageous. In Victor’s plans, it was to be a forward outpost for monitoring the Ant-men, a processing center for mountain resources, a foreign trade port, and a Black Market for smuggling caravans. The prosperity of Raven Town was just a matter of time, and it was equally foreseeable that various powers would covet it. However, it was simply too far from the Randell Fief, and Victor had too much on his plate. Even with alchemical crows for messaging, he couldn’t possibly keep an eye on the affairs of the north at all times. Butz and Old Ham would face a host of complex problems and pressures from all sides. It was inevitable that they would learn to compromise. Then would come infiltration, intimidation, bribery, and temptation from various factions. In any case, Victor didn’t hold high expectations for the loyalty or capability of those two. They were commoners, after all.

Commoners were like soft persimmons, easily squashed.

If a soft persimmon were sitting right next to the Randell Fief, Victor would reach out and give it a squeeze, even if its surname was Auguste.

A close neighbor is better than a distant relative, after all. Who told you to be so easy to pinch?

The monsoon winds howled, making Victor’s cloak flap and snap. Reno stood beside him, motionless as a block of wood.

This one, on the other hand, was unwaveringly loyal, impervious to all corruption. But who would have thought that he was less than five years old, would kick the bucket at fifteen, and then revert to being one year old again.

Victor glanced at Reno and asked, “Big guy, what are you looking at?”

Reno, mimicking Narsen, scratched his head and replied, “My lord, I’m watching Miss Beldina. You told me to keep an eye on her when I have nothing else to do.”

Below the castle walls, the area was bustling with people busy expanding the palisade and building shanties to accommodate a larger population, as well as their cattle and sheep. While the adults were hard at work in an atmosphere of tense but orderly activity, the children were playing—playing with Beldina.

In a clearing behind the palisade, Bel stood with her little hands behind her back, her belly puffed out, directing a large group of children as they practiced the standing posture of an attendant. The oldest of these children were ten, while the youngest still had runny noses. They stood there in a ragged line, chests puffed out and heads held high, respectfully awaiting Beldina’s inspection. Adults passing by would flash knowing smiles; on any other day, they would have long since dragged these little rascals away to help.

Beldina had only been here a day, but she had already become one with the children of Raven Town. Not only were the children of the subjects obedient to her, but even the children of the freemen flocked around her. Although her dirty little handmaiden’s dress played some part, it was mostly Beldina’s own charm. Victor was certain of this.

Light footsteps approached from behind. Without turning, Victor knew it was Lilia. She walked up, followed his gaze downwards, and then let out a chuckle, shaking her head. “Bel is like a little queen.”

“A queen? Hmm, the queen of the children.” Victor laughed as well. “Look at all that mud on her… Didn’t she keep saying she wanted to be an outstanding noble’s handmaiden? This is hardly the proper appearance for one.”

Lilia nodded. “All commoner children dream of becoming a noble’s attendant. Bel is very lucky, but she’s still young and at an age where she just wants to play. When she’s older, she won’t play with these children anymore.”

For a commoner, becoming a noble’s attendant was equivalent to stepping into the world of the Nobles, instantly becoming the cream of the crop among the upper class. Under normal circumstances, Nobles only selected attendants from among their vassals’ children; it was nearly impossible for an ordinary commoner to become one. The young attendants of House of Randell were all very fortunate to have met a master like Victor. However, what Victor could give, other Nobles could give as well, if they deemed it necessary.

“It seems I can’t rely on status and position to maintain my rule over Raven Town,” Victor murmured.

Lilia asked with a confused expression, “My love, what are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” Victor shook his head and asked in return, “Have Butz and Old Ham arrived?”

“They are awaiting your summons,” Lilia nodded, then added, “Oh, and that prisoner has confessed everything.”

“Duke Erickson once recruited fourteen apprentice knights and over seven hundred soldiers from among mercenaries and refugees. After the Duke’s death, this force disintegrated. Apart from a few naturally awakened apprentice knights who were taken in by new families, most of them ended up serving Viscount Negus as criminal prisoners, but without receiving the Viscount’s official recognition. Viscount Negus claims that after the Gnolls are exterminated, he will only accept the three best-performing apprentice knights and one hundred soldiers. The rest will be pardoned.”

Lilia brushed a strand of hair that the wind had blown out of place and said cautiously, “My lord, that prisoner wants to see you.”

Victor glanced at her and asked flatly, “What is your recommendation?”

“He wants to pledge his loyalty to you,” Lilia said with her head lowered, muttering, “I think we should just execute him. Not only did he kill two Elite Soldiers, but he also admitted to knowing the secret of the Elite Soldiers.”

“On the battlefield, one serves one’s master and accepts one’s fate. But killing prisoners is a disgrace! Unless he is guilty.” Victor asked slowly, “Is he guilty?”

“He knows our secret, and he abandoned his comrades. He can’t be trusted!” Lilia argued.

“On the contrary, I think he made the most correct judgment. As for the secret… are there so few who know about the Elite Soldiers? I’ve already revealed the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form and the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form to the York family. What secrets are there to fear?” Victor chuckled lightly, then his expression turned serious. “Lilia, you are no longer a mercenary who lives by the blade. You must adopt a broader perspective to face more complex challenges. Killing a man is simple, but tolerating a man is difficult. Tolerating a group of men is even harder, and we are doing the hardest thing of all—tolerating tens of thousands of people. When people join us, there will be spies prying into our secrets, there will be bribery, and there will be betrayal. This is unavoidable, and it is also of little consequence.”

“Outside this house, there are fierce winds and torrential rains, savage beasts and ferocious predators. But there is also sweet fruit and cool spring water. If we hide inside the house, we will only shrivel into bony dwarves. We must step outside, be tempered by the wind and rain, strike down the beasts, taste the fruit, drink deeply from the spring, and then grow into giants.”

Victor’s eyes shone with passion, and Lilia was utterly captivated. She gazed at her lover and murmured, “My love, you put that so well. Even if I don’t quite understand… I feel that what you’re saying is incredibly profound.”

Victor: “Er… Let’s go see that prisoner.”

————————

In the reception hall of Raven Castle, Tao De finally saw its master. He sat upon a throne, a handsome youth of sixteen or seventeen with black hair and black eyes, flanked by a beautiful personal handmaiden and a formidable armored guard. Tao De knew he couldn’t judge a lord’s age by his appearance. He tried his best to calm his anxious heart and bowed respectfully, “Good day, my lord.”

“I am Viscount Randell, lord of Gambis, and master of Raven Town,” Victor said coolly. “Your name is Tao De? Which family from the Dodor Kingdom are you from?”

Tao De was silent for a moment before replying in a dry voice, “Honorable Lord Randell, I am not from Dodor, nor do I have a family name. My… my father was a minor noble from the Eastern Alliance, he didn’t even have a fief. I am his illegitimate child.”

“In that case, Tao De, I don’t have time to beat around the bush with you.” Victor nodded noncommittally and asked, “You say you wish to serve me. Why should I believe you?”

“My lord, your willingness to see me is the opportunity you have given me.” Tao De composed himself and said, “Though my birth is humble, I am well-versed in the ways of a Knight. I am willing to swear an oath of fealty to you, to guard my lord’s secrets, to serve you with utmost devotion, and to never betray you.”

“A Knight’s oath is sacred,” Victor nodded, then suddenly added, “But you are not a Knight!”

“Viscount Negus left only a short while ago. He never mentioned you from beginning to end, and he has already branded you and your men as bandits.” Victor watched Tao De’s pale face and said coldly, “You once swore allegiance to Duke Erickson, but you betrayed him!”

Tao De’s face instantly flushed crimson. He said agitatedly, “I did not betray my lord Duke! It was the Duke’s cousin who led the Sacred Warriors in a surprise attack on the secret fortress. I could not fight against the Church, so I could only flee. The duchy fell into chaos, and I wandered the wilderness with my men for several months, unable to contact my lord Duke in any way. It wasn’t until Viscount Negus’s knights captured us that I learned my lord Duke had been hanged by His Majesty the King.”

“And then you surrendered. You neither avenged your Duke nor protected his children. Instead, you served Viscount Negus, invaded Raven Town, and now that you’ve failed, you want to serve me?” Victor asked mockingly.

Tao De realized his situation was hopeless. He swayed on his feet like a punctured balloon and said miserably, “The Duke’s children were killed by his cousin. I should have avenged them, but I didn’t. Because… I was not resigned…” Tao De lifted his head and said with bitter resentment, “My father was like a stud horse, siring more than a dozen children, not including me. I was just their servant, but I worked harder than any of them. I strove to become a noble, and I wasn’t willing to just throw my life away for nothing… Now I finally understand. No matter how hard I work, I can never become a noble. My lowly blood is my original sin. If I had a noble bloodline, if I were a naturally awakened apprentice knight, would Viscount Negus have refused my allegiance? Would you humiliate me like this?”

“Is that what you believe?”

“Is it not?” Tao De let out a dry laugh. “Cabell is a naturally awakened apprentice knight. The Duke held him in high regard, and Viscount Negus accepted his allegiance. No one accuses him of breaking his knight’s oath. When the Duke’s crime of minting gold coins was exposed, only we became roving bandits… On the battlefield, Viscount Negus never shoots down the noble sons who wear their bloodline sigils, but he shows no mercy to mongrels like us. We kill each other on the battlefield for a few cleansing potions, and it’s the same for the common soldiers. After a battle, the Knight-Nobles receive preferential treatment; it’s always people like us who die. The Knight-Nobles have fiefs, wealth, and status. They have everything, and we have nothing. And it’s all because we’re not noble enough!”

Victor mulled this over for a moment, then asked languidly, “Can a lord eat an entire cow in one meal?”

“How is that possible,” Tao De said, dumbfounded.

“Can a lord farm a thousand mu of land by himself?”

“Can a lord wear a hundred sets of armor at once?”

“Can a lord sleep in a hundred rooms at the same time?”

Tao De’s lips pressed into a tight line. He seemed to understand what this lord was getting at. Victor continued, “You see, the cattle and sheep went into your stomachs, you were given land, you put on armor, and you owned houses.” Victor took the adamantine longsword from Reno’s hand and said, “This is your adamantine longsword. The quality is average, worth about three hundred Gold Sols. I imagine it was a gift from Duke Erickson, purchased with his counterfeit gold.”

“Tao De, tell me, was Duke Erickson’s counterfeiting of gold coins his will, or was it yours?”

The longsword sliced through the air and embedded itself in the crack between the floor tiles. The hilt trembled slightly, within arm’s reach. Cold sweat beaded on Tao De’s brow. He was speechless.

“If you were loyal, you should have advised Erickson to stop minting illegal coins! Did you?”

“I…”

“You minted gold coins in the lord’s name, you pioneered fiefs in the lord’s name, you waged civil war in the lord’s name. If you don’t fight, who will? If you don’t make sacrifices, who will? What does any of this have to do with whether your bloodline is noble or not?” Victor’s gaze was profound, his words sharp as a sword, showing no mercy. “Duke Erickson died of greed, but he also died because of the web of false loyalty you all spun!”

Tao De collapsed to his knees before the longsword, directly facing its sharp edge.

Victor said with disappointment, “Tao De, your head is full of noble ideals, yet you have no idea what loyalty is. Loyalty cannot exist when you only care about your own interests.”

“I’ll be honest with you. What you think is a secret is no secret at all. It’s just an advanced martial arts training method. The York family knows, the Church knows. I tried to trade this secret art for one of the Church’s, but they weren’t interested.”

“That’s impossible! They clearly possessed strength far beyond that of apprentice knights!” Tao De struggled to say.

“Hmph! Your narrow perspective limits your imagination. I don’t care if you leak my so-called secrets, but I will not tolerate you spreading rumors. I cannot give you what you want. I can only give you two choices: die with dignity, or flee for your life with your sword, as a bandit, and pray my soldiers don’t catch you. Make your choice,” Victor sneered.

With a trembling hand, Tao De pulled out the now-still sword. He turned the blade and carved a deep gash across his face. Then another, and another, until blood streamed down his face, making him look like a fearsome ghoul.

“My lord, I don’t want to be a bandit. Please give me a chance. Let me serve you as a commoner.” Tao De used the sword to prop himself up, half-kneeling in a pool of blood, his sword hand as steady as a rock.

Victor was silent for a moment, then said, “This is your only chance.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Tao De kowtowed.

“Take him away and treat his wounds,” Victor waved his hand, and two guards supported the weakened Tao De, who was faint from blood loss, out of the room.

Lilia stared at the bloodstains on the floor for a while, then remarked with feeling, “That man is ruthless. Do you believe him?”

“I want to prove something.”

“Prove what?” Lilia asked curiously.

Victor smiled with confidence. “As long as I remain correct, my men will remain loyal, because they will not betray themselves.”

Chapter 293: On the Right Track

The sun sank in the west, and the sky grew dim.

Raven Town was exceptionally lively. Bonfires blazed in the open spaces, their orange flames desperately trying to lick the mutton on the iron racks, only to be met with sizzling drops of hot oil. The cooks would take down the golden-brown roasted meat, immediately replacing it with a whole, still-bloody sheep. The women were in charge of bringing the fragrant meat to the wooden tables, kicking away the hunting dogs that darted underfoot while cursing the men who tried to grope their behinds. The successful ones would invariably receive a few resounding slaps, then preen smugly amidst the roaring laughter of the crowd. A large group of barefoot children ran endlessly through the mud, chasing a bald, fat old man, hoping to get a small piece of candy from his hands.

Father Gary was in a sorry state, his brand-new priest’s robes covered in greasy handprints of all sizes. Not even the divine arts bestowed by the Supreme Lord could help him against this pack of howling brats. The Sacred Warrior assigned to protect the priest was holding back a smirk, with no intention of lending a hand.

“Don’t pull, don’t pull, there’s enough for everyone! Oh, this is a new robe.” Drenched in sweat, Father Gary finally spotted his savior among the troublemakers. “Beldina! My dear little girl, control your subordinates, for the Supreme Lord’s sake.”

Bel raised her small, flushed face and held out a hand. “Grandpa Father, give me the bag. I’ll hand them out for you.”

“My little darling, I can’t do that. Not unless you’re wearing the white robes.” Father Gary clumsily dodged countless small hands. As much as he adored this little girl, Church property could only be distributed to the populace by the clergy. That was the rule.

“Then for every piece of candy you hand out, you have to reward me with one. Otherwise, I won’t help you,” Beldina proposed, her eyes darting about.

“I’ll reward you one for every three I give out.”

“Everyone, grab them!”

“Don’t grab, don’t grab… Alright, you win.” Before a few of the little rascals could climb onto him, the portly priest surrendered to the king of the kids. Beldina nodded happily, and her little lieutenants immediately organized the unruly children into a long, neat line.

“One for you, one for Bel. Next…” The portly priest stuffed a piece of candy into Bel’s hand and patted her little head. “What a greedy little thing. Why can’t you be as generous as your master? His Excellency Randell donated seven-head of cattle, sixty sheep, and twenty wild boars for this relief effort… And this raw sugar, are you really going to take it all back with you?”

Beldina contentedly placed the raw sugar in the small pocket of her handmaiden’s dress, replying without looking up, “It is precisely because the Master is generous that we must be frugal.”

“Eh… Who taught you that?” the priest asked as he continued to hand out candy.

“My Lady Lilia.”

“Truly words of wisdom.”

Father Gary received a warm welcome from everyone in Raven Town. He couldn’t recognize everyone, but he remembered the exceptionally cute little girl he had just met, Beldina. He could never have imagined that her father was a wizard, and an absurdly powerful one at that.

Imosen’s most heaven-defying ability was not creating Biological Aberrations, but Will Communion. This Wizardry required no incantation and was a purely passive talent that not only allowed him to control animals but also to communicate with beastmen without any barriers. If Victor were Imosen, he would have first used powerful Biological Aberrations to enslave a group of intelligent Goblins and Kobolds, organizing them into a workforce for production, construction, hunting, gathering, farming, and mining. After building up his strength, he would conquer the Half-dragon tribes. Even if he couldn’t rule the Great Marsh, he could at least live very comfortably. Unfortunately, Imosen hated beastmen from the bottom of his heart and couldn’t even accept the reality of being a wizard. He tormented himself through self-exile, possessing immense power yet living like a wild man, making Beldina suffer along with him.

Traditional education shackles the mind, while one’s vision determines one’s achievements. The world’s shortcomings are precisely my advantages, Victor thought to himself. He casually closed the window and returned to his seat. The great hall was brightly lit by candles. The lord’s evening banquet had just ended, and the fine wine and food had been cleared from the oak tables. Butz and the others were waiting for Victor to question them.

“Father Gary has held prayers and provided relief. The morale in Raven Town has stabilized. Butz, what are your plans now?” Victor asked, taking a sip of coffee.

“My lord, I’ve already surveyed the land.” Butz stood up, full of confidence. “Although my lord’s territory is one thousand three hundred square kilometers, it’s mostly mountains with little flat land. The soil isn’t very fertile, and there is only one stream and one lake. We can reclaim at most twenty thousand-odd mu of farmland. Old Ham and I have discussed it. We plan to first build ranches, plant alfalfa, and raise cattle, sheep, and horses. Then we’ll organize men to dig a stream reservoir and reclaim farmland. We estimate that within three years, we can open up fifty thousand mu of arable land and build three villages.” Seeing Victor’s noncommittal expression, Butz quickly added, “My lord, I guarantee the towns and villages here will be as clean and tidy as Hill Camp.”

Victor’s earliest followers all knew that their lord had almost “harsh” requirements for environmental hygiene. Raven Town had taken in over a thousand slovenly freemen, so the town was not particularly clean.

Victor shook his head and chuckled. “Butz, the most important thing for Raven Town right now is to make the freemen stay.”

Raven Town was remote and desolate. Victor believed it was a good place to exile criminal prisoners, at least for now. The first pioneers of Raven Town were the three hundred-odd mountain folk led by Butz, who had once been scattered across the Randell Fief and were now secretly under Victor’s control. The second group of migrants numbered over five hundred people, comprising more than sixty families, mostly soldiers of the Briatte family who were being purged for betraying Judy and her son. After Victor shot and killed Austin Briart, he captured a batch of soldiers who had been serving hard labor in the Randell Fief. Later, when Judy regained control of the family, she confiscated the wealth and lands of these soldiers and expelled their families. Victor requested those people, not only pardoning their crimes but also granting them the status of subjects, on the condition that they move to Raven Town to expand the territory for the House of Randell.

These mountain folk were Victor’s old subordinates. Though not fiercely loyal, they were accustomed to obeying the strong. They were fierce and brave but not cunning, forming the core strength of Raven Town. As for the captured soldiers, they were originally vassal soldiers with skills and experience. They were grateful to Victor and eager to become vassals of the House of Randell, and pioneering the north was their only opportunity. Only the newly joined freemen were unreliable. Most of them would surely try to find a way to leave Raven Town for the more stable and prosperous Soren’s Viscounty to make a living.

“I will not grant them the status of subjects, but Raven Town does need their labor,” Victor said. “Also, you are the Town Mayor of Raven Town, not a bandit chief. Don’t even think about using intimidation to force them to stay. Understand?” Butz nodded awkwardly; it was indeed the only method he had in mind. Victor continued, “Father Gary’s visit means that from now on, Raven Town is on the right track.”

“What is ‘the right track’? I doubt any of you could explain it.” Victor clapped his hands. A few soldiers walked into the great hall carrying three wooden chests. They opened the lids, revealing them to be full of dark red copper coins. Butz and the others stared wide-eyed. Although Copper Sols were not worth much, three full chests of them were still a dazzling sight.

“Raven Town used to have no distinction between public and private affairs, and responsibilities were unclear. The townspeople worked without pay, just like a freemen camp! Heh, it’s a good thing most of your men are mountain folk… But that won’t work anymore. The freemen have the Church backing them. Who’s willing to work for free now?”

“Here are three hundred thousand Copper Sols, all of full value.” Victor grabbed a handful of coins and let them slip through his fingers, clinking and clattering. “The freemen are free to come and go. They’ll get paid for their work, and after three years of pioneering, they will obtain the status of subjects. This is their right. However, just this isn’t enough to make them stay in Raven Town!”

“Raven Town will follow the rules of the Randell Fief. Freemen can come and go as they please with no transit tax. Not only will they receive wages, but they will also have free housing. They can keep twenty percent of what they gather and hunt. At the same time, you must ensure their personal safety and the security of their property.”

Victor paused and asked, “Old Ham, do you have enough soldiers?”

“My lord, Raven Town has forty elite soldiers, ten household guards, and sixty mountain folk hunters.” Old Ham stood up and replied, “It was enough before, but now that the territory has quadrupled, I’m afraid this number won’t be enough to cover everything.”

Victor nodded. “I’ve brought you sixty-four mercenaries this time. They were once vassal soldiers of the Briatte family and now serve me under the guise of mercenaries. I’m handing them over to you. You need to build outposts and arrange patrol teams as soon as possible to ensure the security of the territory. Only then will the freemen feel at ease.”

“As you command, my lord,” Old Ham said cheerfully. “The mountain folk are all good hunters, they just don’t know how to ride horses. With these men, Raven Town will finally have enough cavalry patrols.”

Victor returned to his seat and asked Lilia, “My dear, have the statistics on Raven Town’s personnel and property been compiled?”

“Yes.” Lilia nodded. “Raven Town currently has one hundred and four subject families, totaling one thousand one hundred and forty-three people, and one thousand one hundred and three freemen. There are over eleven thousand mu of farmland, three hundred and eighty-seven cattle, two thousand three hundred and three sheep, and seven hundred and thirty-three pigs.” Lilia turned to Butz and instructed, “Butz, distribute the land to the subject families as soon as possible. Each family will rent eighty mu of land and can keep thirty percent of the harvest. Also, I am leaving two thousand Gold Sols and four thousand Silver Sols for Raven Town. The first group of subject families will receive three Gold Sols each, and the second group will receive one Gold Sol. This way, they will have money to hire freemen for help. In short, from now on, Raven Town must operate according to the rules of a proper town.”

“As you wish, My Lady,” Butz said with a deep bow.

Victor gestured for Butz and Old Ham to sit down, then shook his head. “Raven Town is too far from the Randell Fief. I will no longer transport living supplies here. I have already arranged with Father Gary for him to facilitate trade between Raven Town and Soren’s Viscounty. In the future, Raven Town can purchase its living supplies from Soren’s Viscounty, including grain and salt. Father Gary’s condition is that we open a public carriage route from Raven Town to Soren’s Viscounty, with at least two trips a day.”

“Butz, you will first lead some men to build the road connecting to Soren’s Viscounty.”

Butz hesitated for a long time before stammering, “My lord, once the freemen earn their wages, they will take the carriage to Soren’s Viscounty to make a living. If that happens, Raven Town will soon run out of money…”

“So, you have to find a way to make money,” Victor said with a smile. “I’ve set up a mountain stronghold in the mountains to the west of Raven Town. They will serve as Raven Town’s backup and are also responsible for gathering mountain goods. Send someone to contact them, transport the mountain goods out, process them into commodities, and then sell them to Viscount Soren, or to Viscount Negus in the north.”

“In addition, Raven Town will not charge caravans a transit tax on goods or a procurement tax on commodities. We will only collect a seven percent commodity transaction tax. If a caravan uses the money from selling goods to purchase goods from Raven Town, their commodity transaction tax will also be waived. I believe Raven Town will soon become a place full of merchants, and you will line your pockets.”

Butz was completely bewildered. He stared at the beaming Victor and asked cautiously, “My lord, I know what a transit tax is, but… what do you mean by procurement tax and transaction tax?”

“It’s just customs duty… uh, alright, let’s put it another way. There’s no tax for buying things, but there’s a tax for selling things. Understand now?”

“I understand,” Butz said, his face lighting up with a smile.

From the mid-16th century to the mid-18th century on Earth, Mercantilism was prevalent in Western European countries. When foreigners came to a country to trade, they were required to use all the proceeds from their sales to purchase domestic goods, thereby restricting the outflow of gold and silver. This was, of course, a flawed approach, because gold and silver are not equivalent to currency, and non-circulating currency is not equivalent to wealth.

Victor didn’t understand the history of trade protectionism, but he was in desperate need of gold coins. A lord who frantically sold off his domain’s resources just to hoard Gold Sols would be an absolute fool, but Victor could exchange Gold Sols for alchemical creatures. Although the Alchemy Tower could also absorb raw materials, Victor had a faint feeling that this was a bad idea; he would rather feed the Alchemy Tower’s appetite with gold coins.

On the other hand, Raven Town’s scale was far from comparable to Wildwillow City’s. Its demand for goods was limited, but it controlled the resources of the Relier Mountains and also served as a trade port between Gambis and the Dodor Kingdom. In Wildwillow City, various caravans could trade with each other, with the Briatte family taking a cut. In Raven Town, buying goods was tax-free, but selling goods was taxed. To avoid the tax, caravans could only sell their goods to Raven Town and then buy goods from Raven Town. In this way, Victor became the middleman.

A middleman profiting from the price difference was much more satisfying than just collecting taxes.

Ultimately, Wildwillow City was the result of a compromise between the great lords. The Briatte family didn’t have the strength to take the lion’s share and could only collect a three percent transaction tax. Victor, however, had the power to protect his own interests. He had no need to be polite.

Having laid out the development plan for Raven Town, the next step was to resolve its personnel issues.

“I’m sure you already know that Linda is now the family’s Inspector, and the family Magistrate is Munk,” Victor said to Butz and Old Ham. “Raven Town also needs a magistrate now. I will have Munk dispatch someone from the Magistrate’s Office to serve as your magistrate, with a new one assigned every three years. Additionally, Linda will send her subordinates to conduct unscheduled investigations of Raven Town. I require your unconditional cooperation with Linda’s work. Do you understand?”

Butz and Old Ham glanced at each other, but when they saw the lord’s deep, cold eyes, their hearts tightened, and they said in unison, “As you command, my lord.”

Victor’s expression softened slightly as he asked in a low voice, “I hear you’ve each taken women for yourselves, and more than one at that?”

Butz’s old face turned red, but Old Ham beamed and said, “Yes, my lord. My woman bore me a little whelp, as lovable as a little colt. Butz has a son and a daughter too.”

“When they turn eight, send them to Silver Moon Manor to receive attendant education from Lady Elina,” Victor said with a smile. “As for whether they can inherit your positions in the future, that will depend on their own abilities. They’ll have to be better than you.”

“Thank you, my lord! Thank you, My Lady!” Butz was overjoyed and pulled Old Ham into a deep bow. When Victor had mentioned that the magistrate would be replaced every three years, Butz’s heart had been on pins and needles, deeply worried that his own position as town mayor might also have a term limit. Now, a great weight had been lifted from his heart.

Victor knew exactly what was on Butz’s mind. He encouraged him, “I will not forget your contributions in pioneering Raven Town. As long as you are diligent in your duties, I guarantee you can continue in your roles. Raven Town is, after all, the fruit of your labor, and it is your home.”

Victor’s abolishment of the hereditary system for village heads in the Randell Fief was beneficial for efficiency, but it was not suitable for Raven Town’s situation.

Behind the saying “Officials are transient, but the office is permanent” is another line: “One becomes an official a thousand miles from home only for wealth.” Transient officials either slack off to build up their resumes or engage in corruption—a practice unchanged for a thousand years. This is mainly because transient officials are detached from the local populace, do not consider the place their home, and thus cannot possibly give their all until their dying day. This is also why in the history of Huaxia, there were families that lasted a thousand years, but no dynasties that did the same. If Victor were the King of Gambis, under the current conditions, he too would have to adopt a feudal system. The Randell Fief was a tiny place right under Victor’s nose, so it couldn’t cause much trouble. But Raven Town was isolated and required its town mayor and garrison commander to be fully committed to ensure its prosperity and stability.

Butz and Old Ham were average in ability, but they were men Victor could currently trust. A thriving Raven Town would inevitably attract the covetous eyes of various powers. The two of them might not be able to handle overly complex situations, but Victor had a just cause, and by firmly grasping judicial power, he wouldn’t fear Raven Town falling to other powers. The Alchemical Dragon-Lizards and Swiftbird light cavalry were not just for show. When necessary, Victor would teach any ambitious individuals a painful lesson.

“That’s all for our discussion today. You may go back and rest.”

Victor dismissed them and turned to Lilia. “Have Fermi and the others departed?”

“Yes, Fermi and his Kestrel Mercenary Company have already set out for Viscount Negus’s fief. After delivering the raw sugar, they will change course for Great Eagle City in the Dodor Kingdom, then head north to try and retake the mountain folk villages along the way.” Lilia frowned. “However, the Kestrel Mercenary Company has no merchants traveling with them, nor are they carrying any goods to trade with the mountain folk. They don’t even have handcarts. Will that really be alright?”

“Don’t worry. Barol is in Great Eagle City, and he has prepared everything for Fermi. Quicksilver cost me so much money, it’s finally proving a little useful.”

Lilia nodded, then suddenly remembered something. “Right, I received a message from a raven earlier. It said a guest is waiting for you in Laketon.”

“Who is it?”

Lilia had a strange expression on her face. “Lord Abel, Lady Sophia’s steward.”

“Lord Abel? He was the one who abandoned me back in Black Fortress Town. I thought he was the Queen’s man, but it seems he’s still serving Sophia. Heh, interesting.” Victor smiled. “We’ll return to Laketon tomorrow.”

Chapter 294: The Meeting

Victor concluded his Season of Wind inspection of Raven Town. He stopped briefly at Rose Manor in Goldwater City, then, taking with him the several hundred Swiftbirds that Sylvia had entrusted to his care, he hurried back to the Randell Fief.

It was the last month of the Season of Wind. The wind had shifted from the south to the west, and the weather was growing colder. The harvest in the Randell Fief was complete. Farmers were busy repairing their cottages, expanding their animal pens, and gathering hay and firewood in preparation for the coming Season of Water.

Laketon was much larger than when Victor had last seen it. All sorts of houses, warehouses, and freight yards had sprung up outside the palisade. Large carriages bustled back and forth, endlessly transporting the specialty products of the Randell Fief to Wildwillow City, and in turn, bringing daily-life supplies to the various villages. The town itself was also exceptionally lively. The streets teemed with people, and the once-desolate shops were now bustling with activity. People haggled with shopkeepers, selling their foraged goods while purchasing necessary supplies. If they had anything left over, they would inevitably head to the tavern for a few drinks or patronize the newly opened inn.

The rise of public transport had injected an astonishing vitality into this thriving little town.

In the meeting room of the Laketon government hall, the upper echelons of House of Randell gathered for a round table meeting convened by their lord.

“This year’s harvest was quite good. The forty thousand mu of wheat fields yielded fifteen million, two hundred thousand pounds of wheat, for an average of 380 pounds per mu and a seed-to-yield ratio of 1-to-6. The one hundred thousand mu of ground-potato fields yielded forty million pounds of ground-potatoes. Ten thousand mu of rye fields yielded two million pounds of rye, averaging two hundred pounds per mu with a 1-to-4 seed-to-yield ratio. There were also four thousand mu of bean fields, which yielded a total of two million, four hundred thousand pounds of beans. However, the beans have a high water content. After drying, we’ll be lucky to have one million pounds.”

“At present, the family owns over twelve thousand cattle, over forty-two thousand sheep, and two thousand one hundred horses, including six hundred war horses and one hundred and forty large draft horses. Thank heavens, we finally don’t have to spend money on cattle and sheep, nor do we need to buy cowhide and sheepskin at high prices,” Lilia said with a sigh of relief, her face glowing with high spirits.

Upon his return to Laketon, Victor had first convened this family round table meeting instead of summoning Sophia’s merchant association representatives. It had taken Lilia only a day to compile a detailed report, a testament to her meticulous nature and her newly recruited assistants.

Inside the meeting room, Lilia said with a smile, “The number of live pigs has reached sixty-two thousand, with over forty thousand piglets. The remaining twenty-two thousand fattened pigs are to be slaughtered within two months. I imagine… the scene will be very bloody, and also very beautiful.”

The crowd burst into laughter, but Alice cried out crisply, “Lilia, you need to be faster! We’ve sold out of cured meat in Wildwillow City, but the orders keep pouring in.”

“My dear little sister Alice, I won’t argue with money.” Lilia didn’t mind Alice’s tone in the least. She smiled sweetly and said, “In fact, I have over two million pounds of cured meat right here, ready to be shipped to Wildwillow City at any time. We started preparing this cured meat five months ago.”

Discreetly, Victor squeezed the long leg that was tangling with his own under the table, warning Alice with a look: don’t interrupt.

“This year, we need to plant one hundred fifty thousand mu of wheat. At sixty-five pounds of seed per mu, that will consume nine million, seven hundred fifty thousand pounds of wheat. We will plant two hundred thousand mu of ground-potatoes, thirty thousand mu of rye, and twenty thousand mu of beans. The total planting area will reach four hundred thousand mu.” Lilia put down the parchment scroll and said with a serious expression, “The planting task is arduous. We have enough land, but not enough manpower.”

“There are about six hundred thousand mu of land on both banks of the Silvermoon River, and another forty thousand mu of dry fields can be reclaimed around the five stream reservoirs, suitable for growing rye. But our current cultivated land is only about two hundred seventy thousand mu, which means we must reclaim one hundred thirty thousand mu of farmland within a month.”

“The population of the Randell Fief has reached over fifteen thousand people, with nearly ten thousand capable of heavy physical labor. However, Brick Kiln Village is using three thousand eight hundred of those able-bodied laborers, as well as a large number of ox carts.” As Lilia said this, several fierce glares landed on Dean, the man in charge of Brick Kiln Village. He quickly stood up to explain, “My Lady, the Randell Fief now has three giant brick kilns. Two are already in production, and the third is expected to be completed in two months…”

“Completed in two months?” George, the village head of the second village, raged, “In two months it will be the rainy season! Do you want us to plow in the rain?”

Dean mumbled under his breath, “Even after the kiln is completed, I can only spare nine hundred men at most… it won’t make much of a difference.”

Several village heads couldn’t help but shout curses. Dean, his face flushed red, stuck out his neck and yelled, “What can I do? Each kiln needs at least four hundred workers! Three kilns mean one thousand two hundred people! The team for digging channels and gathering earth needs at least one thousand five hundred people!”

Victor tapped the table, and the room instantly fell silent. He instructed Dean, “Tell us about the situation with the brick kilns.”

“Yes.” Dean said respectfully, “My lord, there are three giant brick kilns in total. The one to the south is the old kiln, producing an average of sixty thousand green bricks a day. The new kiln to the north produces one hundred thousand green bricks a day. The central kiln, on the east bank of the Silvermoon River, is not yet complete. Our main problem is that we have to fetch earth from too far away. To guarantee production, we must maintain a team of one thousand two hundred people to gather earth. Once the third kiln is built, it would be best to have two thousand people dedicated to digging channels and transporting earth.”

Victor said with delight, “So Brick Kiln Village can now produce five million, seven hundred sixty thousand green bricks a month? Have they all been sold?”

“Yes. And we still can’t keep up with demand,” Alice interjected. “This month’s sales of green bricks reached six million blocks, generating an income of nine thousand Silver Sol, equivalent to two hundred fifty Gold Sol.”

Dean looked smug, but Lilia said coldly, “Only Brick Kiln Village’s business is losing money.”

“Brick Kiln Village paid out two hundred eleven Gold Sol in wages this month. Add to that the two meals for the workers, the fodder for the livestock, and the cost of charcoal, and the village’s monthly production cost is three hundred eighty-five Gold Sol. That’s a net loss of one hundred thirty-five Gold Sol.”

Amid everyone’s scornful gazes, Dean’s shoulders slumped, and he shrank back into his chair. Victor pondered for a moment, then asked, “Can anyone tell me where the problem lies?”

“Too many workers. Three thousand eight hundred able-bodied laborers, each earning two Copper Sol a day plus two meals. The monthly labor cost is nearly three hundred twenty Gold Sol,” Lilia said.

“The price of green bricks is too low. It used to be one Copper Sol for twelve green bricks; now you can buy twenty for one Copper Sol. My dear, why must we let the Wellington family take our profits?” This was Alice’s answer.

Lilia wanted to cut staff, and Alice wanted to raise prices. These were indeed good ways to turn a loss into a profit, but they were not the results Victor wanted.

“That’s not how you should look at the books,” Victor said with a smile. “Even though I lowered the price of green bricks, Duke Wellington hasn’t made any money from it. Transportation costs are his main expense in purchasing the bricks. In fact, we haven’t lost money; we’ve actually made a profit.”

“Duke Wellington gave us seventy thousand Gold Sol. While his goal was to reduce the planting area of Spiked Kidney Beans and add fifty thousand mu of farmland, it also included his investment in the green brick industry. Of course, I must repay him by lowering the price of bricks, so the Wellington family doesn’t lose too much.”

“Currently, the best-selling bricks on the market are the Class III green bricks. As the most basic building material, their profit margin was already slim. But I believe the Class II green bricks for vassals and the Class I green bricks for Nobles will definitely be profitable. Our third giant brick kiln will specialize in producing these two types.”

“Also…” Victor turned his gaze to Dean and asked, “How is the construction of the canals coming along?”

Dean’s spirits lifted. He said, “The earth-gathering team digs over sixty meters of channels every day. This month, the auxiliary canal connecting Rose Lake to the Silvermoon River has been completed. It’s twelve kilometers long and can irrigate over twenty thousand mu of farmland.”

Victor said to the others, “You see? Trading one hundred thirty-five Gold Sol for twenty thousand mu of farmland—this deal is already a huge profit for us.”

Lilia nodded in agreement, then sighed, “But the three brick kilns are taking up too many people, leaving us with a labor shortage… What good is having land if you can’t cultivate it?”

“We don’t lack manpower,” Victor said. “Right now, the Phoenix Barony has over twenty thousand people. I can hire five thousand able-bodied laborers and have them reclaim farmland… It’s just a matter of paying some wages. The question is whether the Randell Fief has enough housing for these people. I don’t want anyone sleeping and freezing in haystacks, only for Father Miller to point his finger at my nose and nag me endlessly.”

“The Randell Fief has no problem housing another five thousand hired laborers,” Moline, the head of the first village, stood up and said excitedly. “My lord, the villages near the stream reservoirs have been built. Each village can accommodate over one thousand people. Only a few herdsmen are living in them, and a large number of shanties are empty… We originally wanted to build sturdier green brick cottages, but Raven Town is also expanding, and there simply aren’t enough bricks to go around.”

“So you’re saying I now have one town, two brick kilns, and ten villages?” Victor said, a smile on his face. Village Head Moline confirmed, “Yes, my lord.”

Victor nodded in satisfaction and asked, “Then, do I have enough stewards?”

“Mm,” Lilia interjected. “All six hundred slots for building a house to establish residency have been filled. I’ve recruited three hundred people from among them who can read and do sums to serve as assistants to the family stewards. I call these people Aides.”

“Excellent.”

Lilia was meticulous and cautious, managing the family’s affairs in an orderly manner, becoming more and more like a proper noble’s steward. Victor smiled and nodded at his little woman in approval, then asked Narsen, “How is the formation of the family’s army coming along?”

“My lord, all three hundred positions for mercenary soldiers have been filled. They’re all strong fellows, and there are quite a few skilled veterans among them. Our guard detachment now has six hundred men, including two hundred fifty vassal soldiers, fifty elite archers, and three hundred mercenary soldiers.” Narsen said with a chuckle. Ever since Linda had given birth to his twin sons, the fellow always had a foolish grin on his face. Instructor Baritt added from the side, “My lord, the guard detachment consists of one hundred fifty cavalry and four hundred fifty infantry. The mercenaries are all infantry, and they still need training…”

“Hold on.” Victor held up a hand and asked curiously, “I remember Lilia saying that not many people were willing to become mercenaries. Where did you find so many?”

“My lord, I would never allow swindlers and scoundrels to be hired just to make up the numbers.” Narsen glared at Magistrate Monkey and boomed, “These men are the sons of families who built houses to establish residency here. They’ve thrown their lots in with the Randell Fief and won’t desert easily. With proper training, they’ll all become outstanding warriors in the future.”

“Alright, you know that’s not what I was asking…” Victor sighed helplessly.

“It’s the Swiftbird light cavalry,” Instructor Baritt explained. “Ever since the Swiftbird light cavalry was stationed in Laketon, many young men have wanted to become awe-inspiring war beast cavalry. They went behind their families’ backs and secretly ran off to enlist as mercenaries.”

Victor was dumbfounded. The first word that sprang to mind was: star-chasers. Thinking deeper, he realized there was much to be made of this.

Chapter 295: Problems

Humans are fearsome predators, and it is in a man’s nature to pursue great power. This manifests as hero worship. This world is fraught with peril and fierce competition; its people are generally much stronger and more savage than those of the modern era. Sanctimonious fools would find no room for survival here. Unfortunately, humanity’s competitors are even more savage and vicious. Under the Church’s guidance, the common folk are accustomed to prioritizing self-preservation, but this cannot erase the fierceness in their bones. Thus, the young particularly admire the strong. Knights and Sacred Warriors are the heroes in their eyes, and the followers of these heroes are the objects of their aspirations.

Victor had been developing the Randell Fief with painstaking diligence, achieving remarkable success and abundant results. Only in the construction of his army had he faced immense difficulties. This was mainly because the refugees lacked a sense of belonging and honor. They didn’t trust their lord, fearing they would become cannon fodder for the House of Randell in its fight against the Ant-men.

The heroic effect brought by the Swiftbird cavalry gave Victor a breakthrough. If he held a military parade, could it inspire a sense of honor in the soldiers? Would it strengthen the people’s confidence in the House of Randell? The answer was obvious. The very purpose of a military parade was to display strength, forge a martial spirit, and boost public morale. If a parade could be copied, then could creating a festival for the House of Randell win the people’s hearts, give the refugees a sense of belonging, and thus help them integrate quickly into the Randell Fief?

“If Lilia hadn’t disagreed, we could have recruited another one hundred men!”

Faced with Narsen’s complaint, Lilia immediately shot back with a cold laugh, “Hmph! Recruit another hundred men? Do you know how many Gold Sols these six hundred guards cost each year? Their annual stipends alone are as high as four thousand eight hundred Gold Sols, and they get double pay when on missions. The food expenses for each one of them are equal to that of six hired laborers! The guard detachment doesn’t perform manual labor and doesn’t usually have to fight. Aside from training, all they do is catch a few poachers, yet they burn through eight thousand Gold Sols a year!”

“It costs that much…” Narsen’s voice dropped an octave. Lilia had no intention of saving face for her brother. She rolled her eyes and continued her sarcastic tirade, “Do you really think of them as mercenaries? Let me tell you, the guard detachment’s equipment is provided by Hill Camp. I don’t have the accounts here, but it can’t be any less than sixty thousand Gold Sols!”

“Don’t worry about the military equipment,” Victor said with a smile. “Alright. Baritt, report on the militia’s training.”

Baritt said awkwardly, “My lord, there’s been no training. The militia members are all very busy… Right now, I can only train that batch of new kids who just joined the guard detachment. My lord, to be honest, you’ll only have a militia if you open up another batch of slots for building a house to establish residency.”

The militia was a lord’s largest and most basic armed force. They received no stipend and were not required to respond to a call to war, being primarily responsible for defending their own homes and villages. The lord only provided simple military equipment. Refugee laborers would never defend someone else’s territory. Therefore, militia members had to be the lord’s registered subjects, either the descendants of family vassals or the children of subject families.

Although militiamen had the right to refuse their lord’s call to war, the militia of a great house rarely did so. The York family had a thousand-year heritage and sixty thousand registered subjects. They mobilized twenty thousand militiamen for the Ant-man war, and even when the Fanged Legion suffered heavy losses, they could quickly select elites from the militia to restore its combat effectiveness. Victor was incredibly envious of this.

The House of Randell had shallow roots. By promoting the policy of building a house to establish residency, it had managed to take in six hundred households, totaling nearly three thousand registered subjects. After excluding the old, weak, women, and children, there were barely a thousand able-bodied men. Subtract the six hundred aides and mercenaries, and there was almost no one left.

Victor fell silent for a moment, then asked dejectedly, “What about the families with private plots?”

“I can train them, but I’m afraid they’ll run away with the equipment,” Baritt stated bluntly.

“Then forget it.” Victor shook his head and asked, “Munk, how many people are entering the Randell Fief each day to make a living? And what’s the situation at the Magistrate’s Office?”

The floating population of the Randell Fief was now under the jurisdiction of the Magistrate’s Office. Narsen’s guard detachment was only responsible for patrolling the borders and arresting poachers. Monkey quickly stood up and replied, “About seventy or eighty people a day. A lot of them are bachelors.”

“The Magistrate’s Office has a total of one hundred seventeen soldiers, the Constables for each village are in place, and the magistrate for Raven Town is on his way.” Monkey nodded and bowed obsequiously. “My lord, as you instructed, I used my connections in Wildwillow City to encourage freemen merchants to purchase property and settle in the Randell Fief. So far, eight families have moved here. They’ve paid the one hundred Gold Sol construction fee and have opened eight general stores, two inns, and three taverns in Laketon. These merchants also invested in the public carriages in Wildwillow City, and they all bought carriages from our House of Randell.”

“Well done.” A smile returned to Victor’s face.

The Randell Fief’s program for building a house to establish residency was twofold: one track was to absorb talented refugees as subjects, and the other was to attract wealth and connections by having people buy property to settle, targeting wealthy freemen. Victor was ambitious. He wanted to build a giant commercial military organization, a plan he could not achieve with his own wealth and connections alone. He had to rely on external forces, and freemen merchants were the perfect partners.

Freemen merchants were slick and worldly-wise. They appeared glamorous on the surface, but in reality, they had wealth without status and were extremely vulnerable to risk. Although they tried to curry favor with priests, they were a far cry from being honest and simple. They were always involved in some shady dealings, and the powerful nobles in the towns had many ways to seize their wealth. If they could obtain the status of a vassal, freemen merchants could at least secure a peaceful end, but how many were willing to give up their entire fortune in exchange for a mere ten mu of land?

Victor had performed a Divine Notarization with the Church to protect the property of freemen, making the Randell Fief the most ideal place for them to settle. Not only would their wealth bring prosperity to Laketon, but their skills and networks would also be at Victor’s disposal. Monkey, having spent some time hustling in Wildwillow City, had been tasked by Victor to handle this investment promotion.

“However,” Monkey glanced left and right, then gritted his teeth, “My lord, these merchants have paid their fees in full and have received their property deeds, but there are no houses to give them.”

“What’s going on? Why are there no houses for them? What about the reputation of the House of Randell?” Victor’s face darkened, and the atmosphere in the meeting room instantly froze. After a long moment, Lilia finally spoke, “These past few days, everyone has been busy harvesting the crops, so there was no manpower to build houses… Wildwillow City has also been pressing for the green bricks, so they were all shipped over… In a few days…”

“You’ve been with me every single day, yet you seem to know everything so clearly,” Victor cut off Lilia’s explanation with a furious, cold laugh. “In a few days? In a few days, the reputation of the House of Randell will stink all the way to Wildwillow City!”

Seeing his sister being reprimanded by Victor, Narsen turned the spear on the culprit, Monkey. “My lord, this fellow Monkey is using his public office for private gain!”

“Don’t think I don’t know that you have a dry share in all the shops those merchants opened!” Narsen roared at the magistrate. “And… and those two inns are engaged in the flesh trade!”

“Holy shit… When did you become such a saint? How would you know if you’ve never been?” Victor couldn’t help but curse. Narsen scratched his head and sat down sheepishly. The rougher Victor was with him, the happier he seemed.

An eerie silence fell over the room. Elina, poised and elegant, had a trace of disdain in her eyes. Alice wore a smile, her head cocked as if she were watching a good show. Lilia pouted, looking aggrieved. The village heads glared at Monkey, while Monkey gritted his teeth and stood his ground.

As X-3 processed rapidly, Victor vaguely grasped the crux of the matter.

To a lord, a magistrate was a “white glove”—a disposable agent for dirty work that could be discarded at any time. Precisely because of this, a magistrate’s power was unusually great. Monkey not only managed the entry permits for freemen but was also responsible for shop leases in Laketon, firefighting, and even sanitation. He had to handle all the thankless jobs in the Randell Fief. Ostensibly, Monkey had over a hundred men under him, but behind the scenes, he controlled two other factions. One group acted as middlemen, introducing jobs to newly arrived freemen. They were few in number, mostly former thieves and pickpockets skilled at reading people. They were Monkey’s eyes and ears, and to some extent, could guard against spies from other families. The other group was purely made up of thugs and ruffians. They monopolized the sanitation work in Laketon, collecting shop rents and, of course, a so-called “cleaning fee,” while also teaching a lesson to the thieves and lowlifes who harassed the shops. These men detested double-crossers and answered only to the magistrate, which meant they inevitably offended the shops run by the village heads and the War Bear Mercenaries. Monkey not only covered for all their mistakes but also backed them up, forcing those shops to pay the “cleaning fee.” Otherwise, he couldn’t maintain the underground order of Laketon. It was thanks to Monkey’s persistence that freemen merchants dared to set up businesses in Laketon, including the indispensable inns.

Narsen’s accusations against Monkey were, on the surface, due to him offending too many people. But at its core, it was a conflict between the new and old powers in the Randell Fief. The vassal faction, represented by Narsen, was being challenged by the freemen merchant faction, represented by Monkey, even before they had finished accumulating their family wealth. The Randell Fief was developing vigorously, and Victor was investing large sums in the freemen laborers. Brick Kiln Village alone paid out as much as two hundred Gold Sols in monthly wages, money that could have been funneled into the hands of the village heads and War Bear Mercenaries through their shops and taverns. Indeed, they had once controlled the commercial resources in Laketon. Now that the freemen merchants presented competition, how could they be content? But they never stopped to think about how deserted Laketon’s commercial street had been before the freemen merchants arrived. Even if the laborers had money, they would most likely have gone to Wildwillow City for entertainment.

Victor thought for a moment, then probed, “I plan to send someone to teach the freemen’s children to write. Do you have any objections?”

Everyone stared at each other, nonplussed. Weren’t they supposed to be ganging up on Monkey? The lord’s train of thought was leaping too far. Village Head Moline braced himself and said, “My lord, what’s the use in teaching them? They might just run away someday.” The other village heads nodded in agreement.

Just as I thought! These men had been promoted to village group leaders because they could read and do arithmetic. Now they were afraid of being replaced.

Victor said slowly, “Munk, from now on, you will no longer participate in the round table meetings. You will report only to me!” Monkey was startled at first, then overjoyed. He understood this was the greatest support his lord could give him. Victor then said, “Lilia, the settlement of these homebuyers concerns my reputation. Put everything else aside and immediately arrange for manpower to build houses for the merchants!”

“I understand,” Lilia replied, her eyes lowered obediently.

Narsen opened his mouth to speak, but Victor shot him a glare. “What are you sticking your nose into? Huh?” Narsen immediately shrank back.

The oaf owned a fief of three hundred square kilometers, didn’t have to pay a single copper coin in tribute, and his family was rolling in money, yet he had been used as a pawn without even realizing it.

“Today’s round table meeting is adjourned. Everyone, return to your work.”

Everyone bowed and departed. The meeting room became empty. Victor sat alone in his seat, lost in thought.

Where there are people, there is conflict. It was normal for the members of the work point system to harbor petty thoughts and make small moves to protect their own status. An ordinary lord would just laugh it off; in the end, weren’t they all his subordinates? Victor, however, could not sit by and watch. The Wildmen mercenaries, the family vassals, and the freemen merchants were his three-horse carriage. They were all equally important, and he could not afford to lose any of them.

In Victor’s plan, the subjects of the House of Randell would eventually replace the Alchemical militia in gathering resources from the mountains, producing rock bricks, and constructing a gigantic fortress. This would free up the Alchemical militia to form more mercenary companies, ultimately creating a massive military power. However, Victor had moved too quickly, so much so that his family vassals couldn’t keep up. They had become anxious and insecure, lashing out at everyone they saw. They didn’t even realize that the freemen merchants wouldn’t challenge their positions; their real competitors were the refugees who had established residency by building houses.

Competition was necessary, but disorderly competition was unacceptable. Victor had to give his subordinates time to grow. Otherwise, today’s aides could replace the village heads, and tomorrow’s aides could replace the newly appointed village heads. This was like the monkey picking corn: grabbing one and dropping another, the last one it holds may not be the one it wanted.

“The House of Randell has developed too quickly. Its foundations are a bit unstable. It needs a period of consolidation and accumulation, a time to absorb the current population and, at the same time, perfect the administrative and judicial system, the education and research system, the military system, and the trade system. Hmm, I also need to think about how to organize the military parade and the festival.”

As Victor thought, he suddenly realized he wasn’t managing a business, but a fief—a family. As a lord, he hadn’t dined with his vassals or hunted with them for a long time. Narsen and Linda had a pair of twins, and he hadn’t even gone to see them.

“Alright, I owe you all. Before I hold a family banquet, there’s one more deal to discuss,” Victor muttered to himself, rubbing his chin.

Chapter 296: Stag Merchants’ Guild

“Teacher Abel, I’m very sorry. I’ve only just found the time to see you.”

The scent of natural wood filled the study of Silver Moon Manor, making Lord Abel feel as if he were in a fresh, pristine morning forest. His years of experience as a traveling merchant told him that the desks, chairs, cabinets, floor, and window frames were all crafted from redwood from the Gloomy Forest, and none of it was more than two months old. It was all brand new furniture.

In fact, Abel had long since noticed that everything here was new: the new furniture, the new manor, the new villages, the new towns, the new territory, and the completely new Victor Wimbledon.

The pretty-boy little Baron of the past had become a veritable sovereign. He sat behind his desk, his demeanor calm and his expression composed. The callow immaturity in his eyes, as deep as the night sky, was gone, replaced by the light of wisdom and confidence. The young lord’s imposing air stirred a mix of emotions in Abel’s heart. Despite being made to wait for over a month, he couldn’t muster even a hint of resentment at this moment.

Abel didn’t know why Victor had become so unrecognizable in just a few short years. Perhaps it was his environment, or perhaps it was his Bloodline. Regardless, he had to admit that his former student was now a figure he had to look up to.

Victor paid no mind to Lord Abel’s complex feelings. He turned and instructed, “My dear Lilia, please prepare a cup of coffee for Teacher Abel.”

Lilia gave her man a faint smile, her snow-white hands moving deftly to brew the coffee. Her movements were nimble and her posture graceful, a pleasant sight to behold. In a moment, a cup of fragrant, steaming coffee was placed on the table.

“Your Lordship, do you prefer milk or goat’s milk?” Lilia asked in a crisp voice, holding a silver pot.

“Ah… nothing, thank you… Thank you, My Lady.” Abel stood up, bowing somewhat stiffly to Lilia before taking the silver cup from her. Lilia lifted her skirt, curtsied in return, and went back to Victor’s side.

Abel took a small sip of the coffee. Its rich, mellow taste refreshed him. Victor asked, “Teacher Abel, how long has it been since we last met?”

“Over four years,” Abel replied respectfully, setting down his coffee cup.

“Four years, eleven months, and twenty-seven days,” Victor said with a smile. “We’ve known each other for ten years, three months, and eleven days. You waited a full twenty-eight days for me in Laketon.”

Abel stared, mouth agape, for a long moment before exclaiming in admiration, “My lord, you have an incredible memory.”

“People with good memories are not easily fooled.” Victor glanced coolly at Abel and continued, “I know you’ve come to negotiate the purchase of raw sugar, but I didn’t expect you to come in person.”

“Sophia currently has three major merchant guilds under her: the Stag Merchants’ Guild, the Shamrock Merchants’ Guild, and the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild. Among them, the Stag Merchants’ Guild is the most powerful. The Stag’s footprints cover the Kingdom of Gambia, the Dodor Kingdom, the Kingdom of Naville, the Great Plains, and the Sasan Empire. As the general manager of the Stag Merchants’ Guild, you have eight caravans, over four thousand clerks, and more than two thousand wagons under your command. The number of external personnel who rely on the caravans for their livelihood must be over ten thousand.”

“This ten-million-pound raw sugar deal is not a particularly large one for the Stag Merchants’ Guild, but it is very important to my House of Randell. Therefore, you could have just sent a caravan over to close the deal at the agreed-upon price… So why did you come to see me in person, even going so far as to stay in Laketon for twenty-eight days?”

“My lord, although you have founded the House of Randell, you are, after all, half the master of the Marquess’s estate. It is only right and proper that I pay my respects to you in person,” Abel said with the utmost reverence, though he thought to himself, You wouldn’t let them ship the goods. What choice did I have but to wait for you?

Victor said, “Oh,” as if a great realization had dawned on him. “So, you work for me?”

Abel quickly explained, “My lord, I work for Marquess Sophia.”

“Sophia…” Victor nodded, then changed the subject. “So… where is she now?”

“That…” Abel looked troubled, but Victor said with a faint, knowing smile, “Can’t tell me? Heh… I’m guessing you don’t even know where she is! Sophia’s movements are erratic; she’s currently assisting the Church with an important matter. As for what that matter is… it’s not convenient for me to disclose. But I’m certain she didn’t tell you.”

Abel was seasoned and shrewd. Though he was shocked and doubtful, he remained outwardly calm. However, he didn’t realize that the rhythm of his breathing, the beating of his heart, and even the minute changes in his pupils could not escape Victor’s Perception.

Victor confirmed his suspicions from these details and said confidently, “Sophia has neither the time nor the vigor to pay attention to the raw sugar trade right now. This is entirely your own initiative!”

“Back then, you abandoned me in Black Fortress, leaving me to contend with the York family all by myself while you rushed back to the Royal Capital with your caravan guards…” Victor stood up, paced a few steps, and shook his head. “Afterward, I always thought you were one of the Queen’s people, because while you were protecting the interests of the Queen’s faction, you were also afraid the York family would silence you, just like the steward Her Majesty Catherine had assigned. That’s why you were in such a hurry to leave Black Fortress Town.”

“What surprised me was that after Sophia successfully broke free from the Queen’s control, she didn’t kick you out of the merchant association. I lived in the Marquess’s estate for a while, but I never saw you. This means you’re neither Sophia’s confidant nor one of the Queen’s people! Yet you’re still in charge of the largest merchant association, the Stag Merchant Association!” Victor sat down again. He stared into Abel’s eyes and asked slowly, “Teacher Abel, I’m very curious. Who do you truly work for?”

“My lord, your insight is as sharp as a torch.” Abel was silent for a long time before replying with a wry smile, “After the conflict between the Marquess and Her Majesty the Queen was resolved, Her Majesty Catherine withdrew her people from the merchant association, and the Maple Leaf Merchants’ Guild, which was loyal to her, was disbanded by Marquess Sophia. But I do indeed work for Marquess Sophia.”

“That’s right. I’m not Her Majesty the Queen’s man, nor am I the Marquess’s confidant. The reason I can still manage the Stag Merchants’ Guild is that Marquess Sophia cannot do without my assistance.” Lord Abel stood up and bowed solemnly. “Lord Randell, you may not be aware, but the history of the Stag Merchants’ Guild can be traced back more than five hundred years, to a time before the Randt Empire had fractured into the Three Kingdoms.”

“Originally, the Stag Merchants’ Guild was called the Black Sheep Merchants’ Guild, founded by Steve, the steward of Earl Desmond Wimbledon. Fifty years later, my ancestor joined the Black Sheep Merchants’ Guild as a wagon driver. Since then, eight generations of my family have worked for the guild, accumulating a wealth of merchant experience, earning a lordship, and witnessing the guild’s changes and transformations.”

“Earl Desmond Wimbledon was a vassal of the Friedrich family, so the Black Sheep Merchants’ Guild belonged to the Dodor Kingdom. It was primarily responsible for trade within the Three Kingdoms and with the Great Plains. The guild’s reach once extended to the Sasan Empire. Later, the Sasan Empire occupied the Great Plains, its blade pointed directly at the northern Dodor Kingdom. The war between the two sides led the Sasan Empire and the plainsmen to refuse trade with the Dodor people, which directly caused the collapse of the Black Sheep Merchants’ Guild. We lost our livelihood. Fortunately, the Wimbledon family in the Kingdom of Naville recruited people and formed the White Rhino Merchants’ Guild, so we became Naville’s people. But the good times didn’t last. The Dodor Kingdom began to suppress Naville’s trade caravans with the Sasan Empire, and after struggling for over seventy years, the White Rhino Merchants’ Guild also met its demise…”

“And yet, you are still here,” Victor said thoughtfully. Lord Abel smiled in response. “We are still here.”

“The Three Kingdoms and the Sasan Empire reached a compromise, and the Wimbledon family in the Kingdom of Gambia was tasked with forming a caravan to meet their mutual trade needs. The Stag Merchants’ Guild changes its name every time it gets a new master—it has changed five times in total, but one thing has remained constant: we have always served the Wimbledon family.”

“That explains it,” Victor nodded.

Sophia came from a minor family in the Kingdom of Sus. Although she started from the bottom of the merchant association, she was young and had climbed the ranks far too quickly, becoming the Marchioness in just a few short years. Given her experience and personality, she was not yet capable of managing such a massive merchant association. The fact that the association hadn’t collapsed under her watch could only mean that there was a management team maintaining its operations. Lord Abel and his managers were the true soul and brain of the association.

For hundreds of years, no matter how the association’s name and master changed, its legacy had never been broken. The association had grown in scale and had developed mature mechanisms for talent cultivation and recruitment, logistics and transportation systems, goods procurement and sales networks, and financial settlement and profit distribution methods. It could even be considered an independent organization.

However, all wealth must have an owner. Wealth without ownership is considered illicit, and any power can seize it. According to the Radiant Code, wealth and land can only belong to the Knight-Nobles. Therefore, Abel and his people had to attach themselves to a family. Currently, the Three Kingdoms and the Sasan Empire had jointly designated the Wimbledon family as the commercial nobility to oversee their mutual trade. Thus, Abel and his people became nominal vassals of the Wimbledon family. But the real major shareholders of the merchant association were, in fact, the Three Kingdoms and the Sasan Empire.

The Sasan Empire and the Dodor Kingdom were at loggerheads; neither trusted the other to dominate their trade. The Kingdom of Naville had abundant mineral resources, while the Sasan Empire had plentiful food resources. The Dodor Kingdom controlled the trade routes and couldn’t just sit by while its two neighbors made eyes at each other, trading what the other needed. Thus, the Dodor Kingdom cut off Naville’s trade routes. As the rear base of the Three Kingdoms, not in direct conflict with the Sasan Empire, and an ally to both Dodor and Naville, it was natural for Gambia to take the lead in the merchant association.

However, the merchant association earned enormous wealth, which belonged to the Wimbledon family. How, then, did the association’s backers divide this wealth?

Victor closed his eyes, contemplating, using X-3 to deduce the mysteries within. Firstly, the management team of the association only held a very small portion of the wealth, which was why they were able to endure for so long. Secondly, the Wimbledon family was fragmented, its descendants scattered across the various kingdoms of the human world. A disorganized family clearly lacked the strength to hold onto such wealth. The Gambis Royal Family secretly instigated infighting among the Wimbledon descendants. The one who successfully rose to the top had to pay a political donation to the kingdom, allowing the royal family to reap the wealth. On the other hand, the Dodor Kingdom received a massive amount of war aid from Gambia every year. This money should be seen as the merchant association’s dividends.

Naville’s situation was somewhat special. Looked at in isolation, it didn’t seem to get a share of the association’s wealth. But from a broader perspective, it received the most benefits. The Dodor Kingdom confronted the Sasan Empire head-on, constantly suffering losses. Gambia was also suffering losses. The Kingdom of Naville, however, could avoid the main forces of the Sasan Empire and freely raid its logistical supply lines. Naville’s lords were constantly enjoying the spoils of war. Furthermore, Naville wasn’t just the most important source of minerals in the human kingdoms; it was also a strategic chokepoint guarding the Northern Wildlands. If the Kingdom of Naville were to collapse, the consequences would be unimaginable. Therefore, the Church supported it, the Kingdom of Sus supported it, Gambia supported it, Dodor relied on it, the Kingdom of Borea needed it, and the Sasan Empire was helpless against it. The moment Naville tightened its grip on its minerals, the Sassans would suffer. With minerals in one hand and a strategic gateway in the other, the Naville people played both sides, profiting from everyone. As long as the current political landscape of the human kingdoms remained, Naville was the big winner.

No wonder the Kingdom of Naville has five Gold Knights and is so powerful, yet has no intention of expanding, Victor mused to himself. The only thing he hadn’t figured out was what benefits the Sasan Empire received. Was it merely the exchange of goods and resources?

With this question in mind, Victor decided to dig a little more information out of Abel.

“Teacher Abel, I can understand your neutral stance, but why did you still come to negotiate the raw sugar matter with me in person?” Victor asked with a smile.

For some reason, seeing Victor’s friendly smile sent a shiver down Abel’s spine. Still, he said in the most sincere tone he could muster, “The merchant association is currently short on funds. We urgently need to open up new sources of revenue. I hope that, for the sake of our past relationship, you can grant us a larger raw sugar quota.”

“The merchant association is short on money?” Victor looked at Abel with a surprised expression.

“Yes,” Abel explained. “My lord, when you were instated as a lord, Marquess Sophia presented Her Majesty the Queen with an offering of five hundred thousand Gold Sols. Later, in order to gain Her Majesty the Queen’s forgiveness, she drew out another seven hundred thousand Gold Sols as an offering… The merchant association is truly out of money.”

Victor laughed dismissively. “It’s only seven hundred thousand… The raw sugar I sell you is six Copper Sols per pound, for a total value of fifty thousand Gold Sols. When you turn around and sell it in the Sasan Empire, the price multiplies by twenty-four, for a net profit of 1.14 million Gold Sols.”

“My lord, that’s a misunderstanding,” Lord Abel said with a bitter smile. “It’s true that the Stag Merchant Association’s caravans travel an unimpeded path, but the long journey inevitably involves greasing palms and dealing with extortion. Along the way, the costs of feeding men and horses and transport losses are not small sums. In remote areas, we always have to hire a few mercenary companies to guard against bandit raids… and that’s not even counting the rest. We must sell off a batch of goods in every kingdom we pass through. Take this batch of raw sugar, for example. We have to sell twenty percent to the Gambis Royal Family at twenty Copper Sols per pound, twenty percent to the Dodor Royal Family at forty Copper Sols per pound, twenty percent to the Kingdom of Naville at sixty Copper Sols per pound, and ten percent to the plainsmen at fifty Copper Sols per pound. In the end, we’re lucky if we have twenty percent of the raw sugar left to transport to the Sasan Empire. Only then can we sell it at the price of four Silver Sols per pound.”

“It’s certainly not easy,” Victor acknowledged with a nod. “Then how much do you want?”

“My lord, I hope you can increase the annual raw sugar quota from three million pounds to five million pounds… And if you could entrust us with the sale of your coffee as well, I guarantee you a satisfactory price. How about seven Gold Sols per pound?” Abel said cautiously. “I think Lady Sophia would be very pleased as well.”

“Hehe, what good does it do me if Sophia is pleased? The key is that I’m pleased,” Victor said, amused. He asked with great interest, “What is the price of coffee in the Sasan Empire?”

“Very little coffee flows into the Sasan Empire. It’s said that some lords are buying it at a hundred Gold Sols per pound.” Abel then added, “Of course, rarity drives up the price. We could sell it for fifty Gold Sols per pound at most.”

Victor and Lilia glanced at each other, their eyes sparkling with golden light. Victor discreetly squeezed the little miser’s slender hand and said to Abel, “The coffee yield is very low, only two thousand pounds a year. You need not concern yourself with it.”

“Yes.” Abel bowed his head. He was not a man who didn’t know when to advance or retreat.

“Teacher Abel, you’re in trouble,” Victor said coolly after staring at Abel for a moment. “The merchant association has no money, which means you’re not capable enough. Sophia has long been looking for someone to replace you, and there must be people within the Stag Merchants’ Guild coveting your position. That’s why you came here to talk to me in person. The raw sugar deal is very important to you.”

Lord Abel was finally moved. He took a deep breath and said, “My lord, your perceptiveness is astonishing… You are absolutely right. If you refuse me, I will have to start over from the bottom. My fate is in your hands, but I will absolutely not raise the purchase price of the raw sugar!”

“Teacher Abel, you’re very professional,” Victor nodded in appreciation. “Tell me a few things, and I’ll agree to your request.”

“People come and go in the merchant association; there are hardly any secrets… My lord, what would you like to know? The relationships between the internal staff? Or Marquess Sophia’s secret trade routes?” Abel asked, puzzled.

Victor tapped the table and said, “If we have time, we can talk about all of that. However, I’m more interested in the situation in the Great Plains and the Sasan Empire—their local customs, specialty products, anything. We can chat just like we used to, but don’t feed me any more chicken soup!”

“Ch-chicken soup?!”

“Impractical stories and grand principles. Tricks to fool people,” Victor said coldly. “Please remember that I am a lord now. I am only concerned with useful things!”

Chapter 297: Information

“The Great Plains are flat and vast, magnificent and boundless. There are no hills and few forests, no roads, and you can’t easily spot the holy cities. It’s just an endless prairie. When the monsoon winds blow, the swaying grass looks like an unending ocean of waves. That’s why the Great Plains are also called the Worton Plains, or the Worton Sea of Grass.”

Lilia blinked her eyes and asked curiously, “Why is it called the Worton Plains?”

“Because of the Worton River.” Lord Abel explained with a smile, “My Lady, the Worton River is a shallow river that runs through the Great Plains. It is the lifeblood of the plains, and the Twelve Holy Cities are distributed along its banks. The plains-dwellers call it the Karisang River, which means Mother River.”

“No one knows exactly how large the Worton Plains are, nor is anyone certain where the source of the Worton River lies. The plains-dwellers say the river originates from the Ghost Shadow Forest in the far west of the Great Plains, and that behind that forest is a mountain range that pierces the clouds. Scholars believe that mountain range is part of the Warren Mountains in the northwestern corner of the Dodor Kingdom. That’s also where the name ‘Worton River’ comes from.” Lord Abel took a sip of coffee and continued, “The Worton River is both wide and shallow. Even its narrowest channel is over ten meters wide, while its deepest part is less than a meter deep. It meanders and has many tributaries, forming vast meadows and wetlands. The water and grass there are lush, home to countless antelopes, wild horses, wild donkeys, prairie rhinoceroses, and short-horned wild cattle. Of course, there’s no shortage of ferocious beasts like brown bears, wolf packs, and moon-bladed leopards. It’s even rumored that someone has spotted a terrifying saber-toothed beast. Personally, I believe the rumors are true… there are simply too many animals on the Great Plains. The wild cattle alone must number no less than ten million.”

“I was fortunate enough to witness a wild cattle migration once… I truly don’t know what words to use to describe such a spectacular scene. I imagine that not even a Knight could survive being trampled under the hooves of a million stampeding cattle.” Lord Abel shook his head with emotion and continued, “However, the greatest threats to humans on the plains are the Gnolls and Ogres. The Gnolls are especially dangerous. They are agile, have keen Perception, and keep prairie gray wolves as helpers. They can smell humans from a great distance. If a caravan is targeted by these beasts, it must be extremely careful. When necessary, we have to release a Red-Eyed Crow to call for help from a holy city.”

“Call for help from a holy city?” Victor picked up on the key point and asked with great interest, “Tutor Abel, please tell me about the holy cities in detail. How do they ensure the safety of caravans? What factions are inside the cities? And how do they operate?”

Lord Abel said respectfully, “My lord, the twelve holy cities of the Worton Plains control an area of nearly five hundred thousand square kilometers. Human activity is mainly concentrated within this region; everything beyond is wilderness.” He paused, then added, “My lord, our Stag Merchant Association has only ever been to Holy Helm City, Holy Feather City, and Holy Armor City. I don’t know much about the other holy cities, but they are all more or less the same. Allow me to tell you about the largest of them, Holy Armor City.”

Victor stirred the silver spoon in his coffee cup and nodded. “Then let’s talk about Holy Armor City.”

“Holy Armor City is located on the south bank of the Worton River, only a seventeen-day journey by cart from the Dodor Kingdom’s Whitewater Fortress. It covers an area of about twenty-two square kilometers. It has no castle and no moat, only trenches and a circle of twenty-four-meter-high stone walls. The lower half of these walls is made of smooth grey rock, while the upper half is built from rubble and mortar. Currently, this city of the plains belongs to Duke Bern of the Sasan Empire. The town’s affairs are managed by Priestess Dura of the Church. Under her command are one thousand Sacred Warriors and twenty-three Fathers. Great Knight Pusli of the Bernier family leads eight hundred Sasan cavalry stationed in the city. They are only responsible for defending the city and its territory and do not participate in day-to-day administration.”

Victor frowned and asked, “With so few troops and such low walls, how can they fend off a surprise attack from the Dodor Kingdom? The Church never intervenes in wars between lords. Could it be that the plains-dwellers are helping the Sasan army resist the Dodor?”

Abel shook his head. “The plains-dwellers are like the Church; they don’t get involved in outsiders’ wars either. As for why Dodor has not attacked Holy Armor City, I have no idea. I suspect there are other reasons. As a neutral caravan, we neither concern ourselves with nor inquire about such matters.”

Victor nodded and gestured for Abel to continue.

“Normally, the Sacred Warriors and Sasan cavalry carry ten days’ worth of journey rations and patrol the area, clearing out monsters around Holy Armor City. The prairie nomads generally don’t live inside the city; they drive their herds in search of water and grass. When the Season of Water arrives, the nomads return to the holy city, set up tents outside the walls, slaughter their cattle and sheep, sell hides, horns, horses, and livestock, and purchase grain and military supplies. Once the rainy and snowy seasons have passed, the nomads will leave the holy city once again.”

“Caravans can purchase grain and flax cloth from the Sasan Empire in Holy Armor City, as well as the nomads’ beef and mutton, high-quality leather, woolen goods, various medicinal herbs, and horses and livestock. Most small caravans stop at Holy Armor City, but large, unimpeded caravans like ours continue north. After another journey of more than twenty days, we can enter the Sasan Empire. However, we have to pay a bridge-crossing fee of one Gold Sol per person to the holy city, and the priests there will also give us three Red-Eyed messenger crows, so we can call for help if we run into trouble.” At this, Abel gave a wry smile. “The bridge-crossing fee our Stag Merchants’ Guild pays is no less than seven or eight hundred Gold Sol, and sometimes over a thousand. That’s because we have to hire several hundred mercenary guards.”

Victor asked, “Why do you need to hire so many men? Are the Gnolls on the plains that rampant?”

“The Gnolls are one reason, but it’s mainly to guard against the prairie nomads.”

Lilia said in surprise, “How is that possible? Old Ham is a prairie nomad, and he said the sons of the plains are tough and brave, warm and hospitable, and the daughters are beautiful and passionate. He said the plains-dwellers are all devout believers of the Lord of Radiance who would never harm travelers, and would even help those in distress.” She turned to Victor and said, “Old Ham never lies!”

“My beautiful Lady, your subordinate certainly did not lie. The plains-dwellers, both men and women, are all expert riders with god-like archery skills, fierce and valiant. With two horses per person, falcons on their arms and hounds on leashes, they can shoot a prairie marmot from two hundred meters away with a recurve bow from horseback. They dare to fight brown bears in close combat with scimitars. Small bands of Gnoll bandits wouldn’t dare confront the prairie warriors.” Abel said with a strange expression, “The nomads don’t harm travelers, but their ‘hospitality’ can be… overwhelming.”

“When a nomad tribe encounters a small caravan or a traveler, they will insist on hosting them with great enthusiasm. They won’t rest until the guest is drunk, and then… they have their beautiful and passionate wives or daughters attend to the guest.”

Lilia’s face flushed slightly, while Victor asked playfully, “And what happens after the guest wakes up?” Abel shook his head and chuckled. “Then you’d better not leave. Just settle down and become a nomad! If you insist on leaving…” Victor put down his silver spoon and interjected, “You’ve drunk their wine, eaten their meat, and slept with their women. To try and leave after that would be an insult to the plains-dwellers, and out in the wilds… hehe, they’ll keep you and your goods.”

“Aren’t the Warriors in the nomad tribes Knights? As Nobles, how can they be so… so barbaric?” Lilia’s face was crimson as she spoke indignantly.

Abel laughed scornfully. “Warriors can be considered Nobles? They lost their family names and the honor of knighthood long ago. Their Bloodlines are mixed, and even the strongest Warrior must rely on cleansing potions provided by the Sasan Empire to advance to apprentice knight. The behavior of a nomad Warrior is no different from that of an ordinary nomad. Some Warriors aren’t even the tribe’s chief.”

The holy city of Holy Armor was co-governed by the Church and the Sasan lord. It was a sanctuary in the plains, a supply station, a trade port, a military stronghold, and also a church established for the plains-dwelling believers. Although the clergy had immense influence over the prairie nomads, the nomads were still considered semi-Wildmen. They lived a nomadic life, never settling in one place. Though they had faith, they couldn’t pray at a church regularly, nor did they need to provide tribute to a lord. The lord, in turn, could only obtain their cattle, sheep, and horses through trade. Thus, the three parties had not formed a stable relationship of protection, salvation, and devotion. The prairie nomads were similar to the Mountain folk, except the nomads were stronger, more unified, and had even formed their own culture and traditions, to the point they could be called the Worton people.

In order to curb the spread of the beastmen’s influence, the ruling powers had to tolerate the semi-independence of the Worton people. For nomads, population was a crucial resource. Their spirit of mutual aid, expressed through their fervent ‘hospitality,’ was the root of their ability to unite their people and to grow and thrive. This was as if from the same mold as the Mountain folk’s habit of taking in those who had fallen on hard times.

Imagine a small nomad tribe attacked by Gnolls. The tribe members scatter and flee, losing the herds they depend on for survival. On the vast plains, they would either starve to death or be eaten by wild beasts. If other nomad tribes didn’t extend a helping hand, the overall strength of the Worton people would continuously weaken, and they would inevitably perish in the cruel struggle for survival. No Worton nomad would want to suffer such a tragic fate. When everyone is in need, a custom of enthusiastic generosity and ‘keeping guests by offering wives’ becomes a perfectly natural tradition.

Then again, if the threat of the Gnoll clans were removed, the Worton people would become like the Huns of Earth, relying on war to plunder population and wealth.

In truth, Lilia didn’t care one bit whether the plains-dwellers were hospitable or barbaric; if this custom was an obstacle to freemen caravans heading north, then it was unacceptable! Lord Abel also wore a cold smile. It seemed that when large merchant guilds encountered the ‘hospitable’ Worton people, even if they weren’t absorbed, they were still forced to trade. That twenty percent of raw sugar was sold to the nomads this way. As for the fact that the nomads secured the trade routes, that was something he would never consider.

‘One’s position dictates one’s perspective’ was a perfect description of the situation. Victor found it amusing, but he had to admit that small-scale smuggling caravans would never be able to cross the Worton Great Plains.

Abel picked up his cup, took a sip of the fragrant yet bitter coffee, and continued, “The caravan rests for a while in Horseshoe Town on the border of the Sasan Empire. Another four days’ journey north brings us to Bronze-Halberd City—the capital city of the Diocletian family, and the caravan’s final destination. We deliver our goods there, fill the carts with green wheat and flax cloth, and then return the way we came.”

Lilia asked curiously, “Are the cities of the Sassans like the fortified villages of the Wildmen?”

“Er… My Lady, although the Sassans’ reputation for barbarism has always circulated in the three kingdoms, I assure you it is not the truth.” Abel paused for a moment before saying, “Bronze-Halberd City is the most prosperous city I have ever seen. It’s densely populated, with thriving trade and good order. The streets are very clean… Of course, its environment and order cannot be compared to the York family’s Goldwater City, let alone Laketon. However, it is four times the size of Goldwater City, with a population of nearly three hundred thousand…” Victor interjected with a question, “What is the population of the Sasan Empire? How large is its army? What are its specialty products? Which goods are in high demand? What are the internal factions within the Empire?”

Abel said awkwardly, “My lord, my knowledge of the Sasan Empire isn’t very extensive… Our Stag Merchants’ Guild has only been as far as Bronze-Halberd City. The Sasan Empire’s Wimbledon family has a merchant association in Bronze-Halberd City, and we only need to trade with them. Unless we go to the barbarians’ grand market held by the Teutonic Duchy, we don’t need to travel too far. Besides, that is the task of the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild. They are Lady Sophia’s confidants…”

“Just talk about what you know.” Victor waved his hand dismissively.

Chapter 298: Parasitism

“The Sasan Empire is vast and its produce abundant. Thirty years ago, the Sasan Empire claimed to have nearly four million registered subjects; now, it’s likely closer to five million. As for the population of unregistered refugees, that’s simply impossible to count. The number of refugees in Bronze-Halberd City is three times that of its registered residents. Considering it’s a trade city where refugees congregate, I estimate the Sasan Empire’s total population is no less than thirteen million.”

“The land in the central and eastern parts of the Empire is exceptionally fertile. The black soil turns iron-red when dried, and it’s this very soil that allows them to cultivate high-yield green wheat. The hills in the Empire’s west connect to the vast Endless Forest. To the north is the Teutonic Duchy, where the Moon Bear family raises over a million reindeer on the tundra. Therefore, the Sasan Empire’s agriculture, animal husbandry, crafts, and wool industries are highly developed. They have no shortage of timber, stone, grain, leather, meat, or salt—their only lack is minerals.”

“Bronze-Halberd City is so named because its garrison soldiers use bronze halberds. In that city, a common iron sword can be traded for a high-quality warhorse, or eight short-horned cattle.” Abel smiled and said, “My lord, it’s said the Sasan Empire collects the beastmen’s obsidian weapons. I’ve personally seen Sasan craftsmen making obsidian arrows and obsidian javelins.”

“The Sasan Empire has an abundant supply of meat and a massive population. Consequently, their hand-picked soldiers are exceptionally strong and well-trained. Limited by their scarce mineral resources, only the most elite vassal soldiers are qualified to be equipped with steel ring mail and refined iron weapons. The Sasan Empire has one hundred fifty thousand elite cavalry; the rest are all militia…”

“Wait!” Victor asked in surprise, “The Sasan Empire’s regular army is entirely cavalry?”

“All cavalry. Two horses per man.”

Victor shook his head and sighed, “That’s the benefit of capturing the holy cities on the plains. They’ll never be short of warhorses.”

“The political landscape of the Sasan Empire is complex, but it can basically be divided into four major powers. The Moon Bear family of the Teutonic Duchy dominates the northern tundra, maintaining a neutral stance with the support of the barbarians. The lordly faction, led by the royal family, occupies the eastern and western parts of the Empire. The lordly faction led by the House of Basileus occupies the west of the Empire. The lords in the central and northern parts of the Empire are divided among several bloodlines; they have no leading family and represent the Empire’s centrist faction.”

“The House of Basileus? You mean the griffin family?” Victor asked, looking up.

Lord Abel said solemnly, “Yes, they are the bloodline of Queen Verodica Basileus and Prince Draven Wimbledon, descendants of the Iron Mountain Empire’s royal family. There are five highnesses in the Sasan Empire who raise the griffin banner. There are also rumors that Duke Hussein Basileus is very likely on the verge of stepping into the legendary realm.”

“The descendants of a Spirit Knight and a Sword Saint were actually pushed aside to the west, where no green wheat grows? The Sasan Empire’s politics are deeper than they appear!” Victor marveled silently, then asked, “Tutor Abel, what is the price of green wheat in the Sasan Empire? And what’s the price of a warhorse?”

Abel replied, “In Holy Armor City, one Copper Sol can buy three pounds of green wheat. In Bronze-Halberd City, one Copper Sol can buy twenty pounds of green wheat. The trade of warhorses and leather armor is regulated; only caravans selling minerals can purchase these two types of goods.” Victor nodded, then asked, “So… the Dodor people can also buy green wheat in the holy cities?”

“Caravans from any power can purchase green wheat in the holy cities, and without paying taxes.”

Having discussed this far, Victor had basically figured out the Sasan Empire’s strategy.

There are many factors that lead to war, but if one looked at the war between the Sasan Empire and the three kingdoms purely from a trade perspective, it wasn’t hard to see it as a war over green wheat.

By gaining control of the Twelve Holy Cities, the Sassans not only gained strategic depth but also acquired excellent warhorses, allowing them to form a highly mobile cavalry legion. When Sasan cavalry entered the Dodor Kingdom’s territory, they burned down farmsteads, trampled fertile fields, plundered supplies, scattered the subjects, and eliminated the vassal farmer-lords. Faced with these raids, the Dodor Kingdom adopted a scorched-earth policy. As a result, the grain-producing regions of northern Dodor yielded nothing, and farmers were forced to leave their homes and migrate south, eventually entering Gambis’s territory as refugees.

Dodor’s grain-producing regions were destroyed, the Kingdom of Naville was already short on arable land, and Gambis suddenly had to take in so many refugees that it could no longer produce enough grain to satisfy the needs of Dodor and Naville. As the population grew, the three kingdoms’ grain deficit became larger and larger, making the import of green wheat their only option.

The Sasan Empire’s greatest threat came from the Eastern Wildlands, not the three kingdoms to the south. Although the Empire had a booming population and a surplus of grain, it was rife with internal conflicts. Coupled with a shortage of military equipment, the main body of the Empire’s army had to be deployed on the eastern border, leaving no spare capacity to annex the Dodor Kingdom.

Under these circumstances, the Sassans began trading with the merchant associations of Gambis, exchanging agricultural products and warhorses for the minerals they desperately needed. Green wheat grew anew every year and would rot if stockpiled in warehouses, whereas ironware could be used for many years. As long as the green wheat trade continued, the Sasan Empire’s military could grow stronger, and the Sasan Emperor would have the time he needed to slowly resolve domestic conflicts. When the time was right, the Sasan Empire’s grand army would march south. The northern lords of Dodor would be the first to surrender, and the alliance of the three kingdoms would collapse.

On the surface, the merchant associations of Gambis were reaping huge profits from the green wheat trade. In reality, this played right into the Sasan Empire’s hands. There were no restrictions on the amount of green wheat Gambis could purchase, and the price of twenty pounds per Copper Sol was more than six times lower than in the Dodor Kingdom. Meanwhile, caravans from the Kingdom of Naville received no transit tax exemptions, leaving them to wait for Gambis’s merchants to come to them to sell the green wheat. With Gambis making a fortune on the green wheat trade, how could Dodor and Naville not be envious and resentful? The unequal distribution of benefits was bound to stir up conflict within the alliance.

The Sassans were playing a game of boiling the frog, a ploy to turn their enemies against one another. Unfortunately, man proposes, but Heaven disposes. The mouldboard plow and new agricultural methods introduced by Victor were bound to foil their schemes. As for how the political landscape of the human kingdoms would change, Victor could not predict. He was currently more concerned with whether his freemen’s caravans could enter the Sasan Empire.

“Tutor Abel, does the secret trade route Sophia has her hands on lead to the Sasan Empire?”

Abel was silent for a moment before saying, “I don’t know the specific details, but you must have seen the sabertooth tiger skull specimen in the Marchioness’s study, haven’t you?” Victor nodded. In his memory, the little Baron had been quite startled the first time he saw that specimen. Abel continued, “That was a sabertooth tiger that Lady Sophia hunted in the mountains of Naville. She was only nineteen at the time, a guardian Knight for a small caravan. That caravan suddenly lost contact with us while in Naville’s territory, and we all thought she had met with misfortune. To our surprise, a year later, Lady Sophia’s caravan returned. Not only did they bring back the sabertooth tiger’s head, but they also brought back specialty products from the Arreat Mountains, as well as the friendship of the Naville and Sasan people. From then on, the Sasan Empire allowed us to set foot in the Teutonic Duchy and participate in the barbarians’ great market. It was that same year that Lady Sophia became the Marchioness and formed the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild.”

The image of Nicole beheading the Ogre flashed in Victor’s mind, and he let out a breath. “The Trial of Life and Death!”

A sabertooth tiger was a Silver-rank beast. For Sophia to have slain it as a mere Knight, it must have been a Trial of Life and Death, without a doubt. However, the Trial of Life and Death was a one-in-a-hundred chance of survival. A Knight would not gamble with their life unless absolutely necessary. Moreover, sabertooth tigers only roamed in the mountains. All of this indicated that Sophia had entered the mountains and happened to encounter the beast. Her reason for braving the mountains could only have been to find a trade route to the Sasan Empire. Clearly, she had succeeded.

This route bypassed the Dodor Kingdom and the Great Plains, connecting Naville and the Sasan Empire. Although the narrow mountain paths couldn’t transport bulk goods, the Sassans would be ecstatic even with small shipments of iron. To maintain this trade route, the Sassans were willing to exchange rare medicinal herbs from the Arreat Mountains, ensuring the Kingdom of Naville would continue to supply them with ironware. And Sophia was playing the role of the middleman.

“That woman actually had the same idea as me. Wasn’t she afraid of getting herself killed?” Victor muttered to himself. He had to admit, he couldn’t hold a candle to Sophia’s ruthlessness.

Victor shook off the strange thought and said to Abel, “Tutor Abel, the information you’ve provided is very useful to me. I can increase the Stag Merchants’ Guild’s raw sugar quota by three million pounds. However, I have one small request.”

Abel stood up and bowed. “My lord, please speak. As long as it’s within my power, I will do my best to accommodate you.”

“It won’t be difficult for you.” Victor smiled and said, “The carriages made in our Randell Fief are both light and sturdy, with a carrying capacity forty percent greater than ordinary carriages. I hope the Stag Merchants’ Guild will purchase my carriages in large quantities. You should have the authority for that, right?”

Abel said hesitantly, “My lord, I saw your cargo wagons in Wildwillow City, and they are indeed excellent… but they don’t have roofs! How can they protect against rain and snow?”

Lilia smiled coyly. “We produce a type of Oilcloth that’s exceptionally waterproof and inexpensive. And those carriages can also be fitted with roofs. Your Excellency can ask about it in Wildwillow City.”

“Then can I make the purchase directly in Laketon?” Abel asked tentatively.

“No!”

Victor’s voice wasn’t loud, but it was filled with an unnegotiable finality. Abel nodded. “Very well! I will set out at once. If it is as My Lady Lilia says, I will certainly purchase a large number of the new model of carriage.”

“Tutor Abel, I was just about to invite you to the House of Randell’s Evening Banquet…” Victor stood up, attempting to have him stay. Abel bowed and said, “My lord, thank you for your gracious invitation. But the weather waits for no man. I must transport the raw sugar to Minsk Fortress before the rainy season arrives.”

“I understand.” Victor nodded and said to Lilia, “My dear, please see Tutor Abel out for me.”

“Your Lordship, please follow me.” Abel bowed his farewell and, led by Lilia, left the study.

A moment later, Lilia returned to the study. She sat directly on Victor’s lap, wrapping her arms around his neck, and asked in a sweet voice, “You’re just letting him go like that? I thought you would try to recruit him.”

“Recruit him? Why would I recruit him? Large merchant associations are our rivals. They can only be defeated by us,” Victor said with a light laugh.

“But a smuggling caravan can’t cross the Worton Plains.” Lilia bit her lip, her beautiful, slender brows knitting together. Victor sighed, “So, we need to latch onto the Stag Merchants’ Guild and have them take our people across.”

Lilia’s eyes lit up, and she asked with a smile, “How do we latch on?”

Victor thought for a moment and said, “The Stag Merchants’ Guild is powerful, with deep roots and sprawling branches; tens of thousands of people probably depend on it for their livelihood. Among them, there must be mercenary companies that serve the guild. Have Quicksilver find those mercenary companies. Infiltrate them, buy them out, or if all else fails, eliminate them. In short, we need to make our mercenary company an outer arm of the Stag Merchants’ Guild. As long as Quicksilver and the mercenary company can cross the Worton Plains, we can develop our own power in the Sasan Empire.”

“And then completely defeat the Stag Merchants’ Guild?” Lilia smiled. “Won’t those tens of thousands of people lose their livelihood?”

“Capable people can find a meal anywhere; they’ll just have a new boss. When that time comes, Abel will have to work for me too, so there’s no need to recruit him now.” Victor paused, then said, “My dear, the family’s population has expanded too quickly. We need some time to digest and absorb it. Starting today, we will strictly control the influx of people until the family is stable internally.”

“For the next year or two, our focus will be outward, not inward.”

===TRANSLation ends===

{“characters”:{“薇萝蒂卡.巴塞留斯”:“Verodica Basileus”,“乌赛因.巴塞留斯”:“Hussein Basileus”,“女王”:“Queen”},“locations”:{“无尽之森”:“Endless Forest”,“亚瑞特山脉”:“Arreat Mountains”,“铁山帝国”:“Iron Mountain Empire”},“organizations”:{“巴塞留斯家族”:“House of Basileus”,“皇族”:“royal family”},“terms_and_jargon”:{“钢环甲”:“steel ring mail”,“黑曜石”:“obsidian”,“鹰头狮身兽”:“griffin”,“守护骑士”:“guardian Knight”,“温水煮青蛙”:“boiling the frog”,“一桃杀三士”:“killing three warriors with one peach”,“人算不如天算”:“man proposes, Heaven disposes”,“折戟沉沙”:“for a scheme to be utterly foiled”,“望尘莫及”:“to be left in the dust”,“寄生”:“Parasitism / To Latch On”,“皇族后裔”:“royal descendants”}}

Chapter 299: A Crushing Defeat

In the early second month of the Season of Water, the cold rains had yet to arrive, but the north wind had begun to stir.

The sun cast a feeble, orange-yellow light as the biting north wind turned the muddy tidal flats of the Goldwater River into frozen earth. Narsen, clad in light vine-hide armor, stood on the dyke wall of the Goldwater sluice gate, his hands resting on two adamantine battleaxes. His eyes were like lightning as he stared intently at the battlefield below, where the House of Randell’s guards were locked in a bloody struggle with a group of Fishmen.

More than two hundred Fishmen broke through a descending storm of arrows, sprinting wildly across the tidal flats. Some gripped fish bones the size of scimitars, others brandished crude weapons fashioned from sticks and stones, but most were bare-handed, charging forward with their cavernous mouths full of sharp teeth, shrieking and screeching. Awaiting them, however, was a veritable wall of bronze and iron, formed of greatshields and longspears.

The House of Randell guards wore steel ring mail. In their left hands, they held 1.6-meter-high, 75-centimeter-wide Iron-oak tower shields; in their right, 2-meter longspears. They stood shoulder-to-shoulder in a dense, orderly formation. Marching to the rhythm of a drum, they advanced slowly, like a giant steel hedgehog crashing into the Fishmen ranks.

Amidst the sickening thuds of spears piercing flesh, Fishmen fell one after another, their death shrieks and hisses crushed by the unified shouts of the human soldiers. Warm blood melted the frozen ground, but the soldiers did not stop, trampling the dead and dying Fishmen into the dark red mud. When more than half their number had fallen, the Fishmen finally turned to flee. The greatbowmen in the rear ranks of the phalanx then unleashed a deadly rain of arrows upon them. After several volleys, a mere few dozen Fishmen managed to escape into the Goldwater River.

In a brief ten-minute battle, the Fishmen on the tidal flats suffered disastrous casualties, while the House of Randell’s guards were completely unscathed.

The soldiers quickly began to retrieve their arrows, finishing off any Fishmen who were not yet dead. It wouldn’t be long before these vexing monsters gathered more of their kind and returned to the flats. Watching his men methodically clean up the battlefield and organize a retreat, Narsen couldn’t help but smile with satisfaction.

At its most glorious, the War Bear Mercenary Company had a hundred mercenaries, far fewer than the large companies with two or three hundred warriors. Narsen had once been ambitious, wanting to build the War Bears into a top-tier mercenary company. Unfortunately, he had lacked the ability, and the War Bears had struggled under his leadership, barely able to feed themselves and teetering on the brink of collapse. Now, Narsen was the Guard Captain for the House of Randell, commanding six hundred well-equipped guards. Drilling these lads was not only his responsibility but also a way to make up for his past regrets.

Narsen trained his guards with immense passion. Although the York family had provided the Randell Fief with training methods for Elite Soldiers, and he possessed highly advanced secret martial arts, he believed that for mercenaries, real combat was the best training. He had been on pins and needles, especially after learning that the guard detachment consumed over ten thousand Gold Sols annually.

It had been less than five years since Lilia and Narsen had become nobles, and they still held the mercenary mindset of risking their lives for coin. So, when Victor ordered the guard detachment to clear out the riverbank Fishmen and drill new battle tactics, Narsen felt a weight lift from his shoulders.

The sluice gate on the banks of the Goldwater River was vital to the core interests of the Centaur Hills. The York family had stationed a garrison of fifteen hundred men specifically to ensure its safety. However, the Fishmen reproduced at an astonishing rate. In just two short years, the population of Fishmen on the riverbanks of the Randell Fief had reached over nine thousand. In another year, the riverbank Fishmen would recover to their original numbers of over twenty thousand. The simple-minded Fishmen had always been bold in large numbers, and they constantly tried to topple the dyke wall, increasing the operational intensity and logistical consumption of the sluice gate garrison. The intervention of the House of Randell’s guards could not only assist the garrison in establishing a Fishmen kill zone but also serve the purpose of live-fire training—killing two birds with one stone.

During the freezing cold of the Season of Water, the Fishmen’s Moss Sickness abated. Most of them took advantage of this time to return to the river to hunt, eat, mate, and lay eggs, leaving only a small number of old and weak Fishmen on the hardened riverbanks. This was the perfect opportunity for the guard detachment’s combat drills.

Following Victor’s orders, Narsen divided the guard detachment into two groups of three hundred, each composed of sixty greatbowmen and two hundred forty infantrymen, who drilled in rotation. Although Fishmen were relatively weak, they were frenzied fighters, their speed and power exceeding that of ordinary humans. Yet Narsen remained an observer on the dyke wall. Unless a Savage Fishman appeared, he would not intervene, nor would he ask the garrison for help. Narsen was prepared to lose a few men.

How could soldiers who had never faced life and death become elites? However, the results of these few rounds of combat drills astonished Narsen.

Over the past few days, more than four hundred Fishmen had fallen to longspears and sharp arrows. The guard detachment, apart from a few fools who had accidentally slipped and been trampled by their own men, could be considered completely unharmed. Such a brilliant combat record was certainly not because the household guards were brave and skilled fighters. In fact, most of the greenhorns in the guard detachment could barely handle a longspear properly. But when they united as one, they possessed an indomitable fighting will and terrifying killing power. The entire infantry phalanx moved with an overwhelming momentum, like a single giant relentlessly reaping the lives of the Fishmen. The effectiveness of the new battle tactics left Narsen awestruck and utterly convinced.

Creak.

The heavy wooden gate of the sluice gate fortress was pushed open from within. Nicole emerged, her arm linked with Victor’s. She wore the water-blue day dress of a noble lady and tall leather boots, her figure graceful and captivating. Her exquisite, pretty face was tinged with a faint pink, appearing especially lovely against her cashmere cloak. Whenever she was with Victor, the usually aloof female knight was the very picture of happiness, her eyes like limpid pools and a smile playing on her lips. At this moment, however, she also possessed an air of languid shyness.

The air outside was deeply cold, but Victor’s face was alight with pleasure. For the past two months, he had been like most lords, busy hosting evening banquets, visiting vassal families, taking his young attendants on hunting and camping trips, or having trysts with his lover. To Victor’s surprise, this leisurely noble lifestyle had not negatively impacted the fief’s affairs; on the contrary, it had greatly improved his subordinates’ work efficiency. With the lord indulging in pleasure every day, the high-ranking members of the family no longer wore such tense expressions, the stewards became more amiable, and the newly recruited aides breathed a sigh of relief. They shed their cautious and timid way of doing things and began to approach their work with a more proactive attitude, offering many valuable suggestions. In truth, the abilities and insights of these aides generally surpassed those of the Randell family’s stewards. With them filling in the gaps, the work efficiency of the vassal stewards also improved significantly.

During this period, all the sowing tasks in the Randell Fief were completed, the third giant brick kiln went into production, and the main canal connecting Rose Lake to the first stream reservoir was about to be finished. With his subordinates working so hard, Victor was happy to be idle. Under his guidance, Lilia had widely solicited opinions from stewards at all levels, perfecting the systems of inspection, reward and punishment, and promotion, and establishing work procedures for village and town affairs. The construction of the internal governance system was essentially complete.

Victor had also begun to build the military system, and the first thing he wanted to test was the combat effectiveness of its core—the infantry phalanx.

For Narsen, the infantry phalanx was a completely new tactic, and the battle process had been full of pleasant surprises. Victor, however, had little interest. This was only a small phalanx of three hundred men; he had seen the might of a seven-thousand-man phalanx in movies long ago. Bored, Victor had simply pulled Nicole away to have a “heart-to-heart,” leaving Narsen to oversee the battle from the wall.

“My lord, My Lady. The young lads of the guard detachment wiped out over a hundred Fishmen!” Narsen exclaimed excitedly.

The members of the House of Randell had never met Sophia. In their minds, Nicole played the role of the Viscount’s wife. Victor had once risked his life to save Nicole, her fief had formerly been part of the Randell Fief, and she herself was a naturally awakened knight. Only she was worthy of the title of matriarch of the House of Randell. In fact, Nicole’s steward and attendants also regarded Victor as the master of the house, believing that the children of Victor and Nicole would surely inherit both fiefs. But Victor and Nicole both knew that Sylvia was waiting to adopt their child and then arrange a political marriage with a direct descendant of the York family.

No family would ever pass up an ancient bloodline with wind affinity.

There was nothing Victor could do about it. Nicole was, after all, in the position of a mistress; her children could only belong to the York family. This had been Sylvia’s plan from the start. She couldn’t keep Nicole herself, but she would have Nicole fulfill her most important duty to the family. As for the ownership of the Randell Fief, Elina and her sister’s children had a stronger claim to inheritance than Lilia’s children.

Nicole, however, didn’t mind. All she wanted now was to be with Victor, and hearing Narsen address her as “My Lady” left her feeling deeply content.

Below the wall, the soldiers finished collecting the arrows and were withdrawing from the battlefield in an orderly fashion. “Well done!” Victor praised. Nicole brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, her eyes fixed on the scene below. “How stupid!” she marveled.

“The Fishmen are indeed stupid, running right onto the spears,” Victor said with a smile. Nicole shot him a sideways glance and pouted. “I’m talking about those stupid shields!”

“Uh… are they stupid?”

Nicole nodded. “The soldiers have helmets, greaves, vambraces, boots, and gauntlets. Their limbs and heads are all protected. Why do they need to carry such heavy shields? Aren’t they cumbersome? With the first two ranks of soldiers carrying shields that big, how are they supposed to fight?”

“My dear, the heavy shield bearers are purely for defense; they don’t need to fight. These greatshields are essentially a mobile wall, specifically to protect the spearmen and archers behind them.” Victor smiled smugly. “This infantry phalanx is a mobile fortress in itself. If the soldiers in the front rank fall, those behind will take their place, ensuring the phalanx’s combat strength and defensibility. You’ve seen the effect of the infantry phalanx for yourself—it has both offense and defense. It’s unstoppable.”

Nicole reached out to straighten Victor’s cloak, her voice soft. “Victor, I meant the infantry phalanx is stupid… You won’t be angry with me, will you?” She turned to Narsen and asked, “Narsen, you’ve been through a hundred battles. Have you ever seen the Sassans or Dodor soldiers form a phalanx like this one?”

“I’ve seen similar formations, mainly for marching. In battle, no one uses greatshields and seven-meter-long spears. Soldier squads are mostly equipped with round shields, longswords, javelins, crossbows, longbows, one-handed halberds, and throwing axes. Their tactics are flexible and varied. They can form a tortoise shell formation with their round shields to defend against crossbow bolts, or they can form an assault formation or a formation to cover a retreat.” Narsen scratched his head, adding, “My Lady, this new formation is an innovation!”

Nicole ignored Narsen’s praise and continued, “If I gave you three hundred Dodor soldiers, could you break this phalanx?”

“I… I could just charge right through it.” Narsen, who had been practicing the authentic Ox-Subduing Mystic Form and Spirit Monkey Mystic Form, had already become a deeply Savage warrior. His Physique attribute was now stable at twenty-four, his Perception at eighteen, and he had mastered the Throat-slitter’s vibration secret technique, his power closing in on that of a Silver Knight. He could wear adamantine heavy armor and burst into a speed of seventy-six kilometers per hour. A greatbowman couldn’t pierce his armor, much less keep up with his speed. In front of Narsen, the infantry phalanx was no different from paper, but he didn’t think the formation was worthless.

“My Lady, the infantry phalanx can turn these rookies into warriors. Standing shoulder to shoulder gives them the courage to fight. The blood of the enemy will make them grow.”

“Courage is a castle in the heart, and that castle should have a wise lord.” Nicole turned to Victor and said with great seriousness, “Victor, Lady Sylvia doesn’t approve of your grand army strategy, but I support you. However, I do not approve of this clumsy, rigid, and utterly useless infantry phalanx.” Victor opened his mouth to speak. “Let me finish, please?” Nicole touched Victor’s lips with a slender, porcelain finger. “I’ve been studying your infantry phalanx for the past few days. The key to why these new recruits can be effective in formation is the strict military discipline—no retreat, no evasion. Deserters will be killed by their comrades behind them. Let’s just suppose for a moment, what would happen if this infantry phalanx encountered a full-grown Ogre swinging a Hemlock tree?”

An adult male Ogre was generally 2.8 meters tall, weighed around 1600 pounds, possessed immense strength, and astounding vitality and self-healing abilities. As long as its head was attached and it hadn’t bled out, it could maintain its formidable combat power even if its heart was pierced. An Ogre’s defense was equally jaw-dropping. Its skin was filled with bubble-like connective tissue. Once an Ogre entered a combat state, these fat-like tissues would continuously release energy while also compressing together, becoming extremely tough and highly elastic. It was more effective against piercing attacks than ordinary refined iron armor, not to mention its resistance to slashes and blunt impacts. Human scholars called this gift the Brute Hide Art, which meant the fatter the Ogre, the more powerful it was.

Back then, Bruce, with strength approaching that of a Great Knight, couldn’t sever the Old Ogre’s arm with an adamantine battleaxe. While the Old Ogre’s intelligence played a part, it was enough to demonstrate the terrifying power of the Brute Hide Art. Only military heavy crossbows and ballistae could directly pierce it. Victor did not believe a greatbow could fatally wound an adult Ogre, especially when it was swinging a Hemlock tree.

The Ogre’s reach, combined with a Hemlock tree more than ten meters long, already surpassed the seven-meter spears, not to mention that the spears were no real threat to them. A single sweep from the Ogre would annihilate the infantry phalanx, and the strict military discipline would result in devastating casualties.

Victor shook his head and said, “That would be a disaster. But…”

“But a well-trained squad of elite soldiers, with proper tactics and a bit of luck, could kill a full-grown Ogre.” Nicole took Victor’s words and continued, “Flexibility and mobility are the most important things. The soldiers cooperate; one part uses heavy crossbows to draw the Ogre’s attention, while another part just needs to seize an opportunity to thrust a short spear into the Ogre’s… its rear. The enraged Ogre would only break the spear shaft, and it would be dead in less than ten days.” Nicole’s face flushed as she said, “There would inevitably be casualties among the soldiers, but the losses would certainly be much better than with an infantry phalanx.”

“My dear, you know so much,” Victor said with an affectionate smile. Nicole lifted her delicate chin, looking smug. “Of course, I received a knight’s education. I’ve studied all sorts of battle tactics.”

“Yes. However, I still need to finish what I was saying.” Victor nodded. “The infantry phalanx you saw was incomplete. In fact, the cavalry led by Knights are the main force for killing the enemy. The infantry phalanx is responsible for protecting the greatbowmen and heavy crossbowmen, advancing layer by layer to divide and compress the enemy. The enemy is like meat on a great chopping block, and the cavalry are the cleavers.” Victor thought for a moment and added, “Of course, I could swap the greatshields for round shields to increase the phalanx’s mobility.”

The famous Macedonian phalanx was born from the Greek phalanx. It abandoned the one-meter diameter bronze shield for a two-foot diameter round shield, thereby gaining greater mobility. Victor had seen movies about Alexander’s conquest of the Persian Empire, but he believed the soldiers here were strong enough to maneuver with heavy shields. Since a heavy shield couldn’t defend against the charge of large monsters, then it was useless. He might as well switch to round shields; the soldiers’ armor was comprehensive anyway.

“My lord is wise!” Narsen laughed heartily. “I always felt there was something missing from the infantry phalanx. Turns out, it was me. Haha!”

“Hmph, you’re cheating,” Nicole pouted. “I didn’t even mention using knights against the Ogre.” Victor said with a gentle smile, “Of course powerful knights should protect common soldiers. Eliminating monsters like Ogres is a knight’s responsibility. How can you say I’m cheating?” Then, his expression turned serious again. “Battle is a matter of life and death. To achieve victory, one must use any means necessary. The grand army strategy includes not only tactics and troop types but also logistical supply. As for the infantry phalanx, it can effectively utilize the killing power of common soldiers, and the most crucial part is precisely its strict discipline. A soldier’s duty is to obey orders. As long as an army can strictly enforce its commands, it will be invincible!”

“My dear, you put that so well.” Nicole gazed into her beloved’s sparkling eyes. Although her heart was filled with tender affection, she couldn’t fully accept Victor’s views.

“Discipline is important, of course, but you can’t just send soldiers to their deaths for no reason, can you?” Nicole sighed. “My dear, the infantry phalanx has two fatal flaws. One is mobility, and the second is its rigid discipline. Why don’t we… run a simulation.”

Victor’s eyebrows shot up, and he said with great interest, “Alright! Equal numbers, same troop types. Two thousand heavy infantry, three thousand spearmen, three thousand greatbowmen, two thousand cavalry. A total of ten thousand men.”

“Ten thousand?!” Nicole’s almond-shaped eyes went wide in disbelief. Victor grinned. “Ten thousand is on the small side. What, planning to surrender?” Nicole rolled her eyes at him and turned to the retainer by her side. “Rysen, you’ll be the commander.”

“As you command, my lady.”

Rysen bowed to Victor. “My lord, may we begin?” Victor waved a hand. “My phalanx is already deployed. Shield-bearers in two lines, spearmen in the middle, archers at the rear. Greatbows have a 400-meter range. Cavalry protecting the flanks.”

“The terrain?”

“A plain!” Victor said decisively. The infantry phalanx feared complex terrain the most.

“Very well,” Rysen said. “I will use traditional tactics. The two thousand cavalry will be split into two groups, maneuvering on the battlefield. The soldiers will be formed into 100-man companies, each with twenty heavy infantry, thirty spearmen, and thirty greatbowmen. Ten companies will circle the enemy formation.”

Victor smiled. “My infantry phalanx will form a circle.”

“Mm,” Rysen grunted in acknowledgement, then fell silent. Victor waited for a long time before asking curiously, “I’m in a defensive formation, standing still. You can begin your charge.”

“My lord, I am not a brainless Fishman,” Rysen said with an aggrieved tone. “I will not charge a wall of spears.”

That’s right! What kind of fool would charge straight into spears? Victor was stunned for a moment, then stammered, “Then… then what do we do? Stare at each other?” Rysen replied, “My archers will all spread out and fire at will into your formation. Since your formation is dense, every arrow will hit. After firing three volleys, my archers will immediately retreat. It won’t be easy for your greatbowmen to hit moving targets.” Victor said through gritted teeth, “My cavalry will hunt down your archers.”

“My archers will quickly regroup with their comrades. Two to three companies will fire on your cavalry, and my cavalry will begin to intercept. The remaining archers will repeat the previous tactic.”

“The infantry phalanx advances!”

“The troops in front of you retreat. The others continue attacking from the other directions.”

“I… I’ll keep chasing.”

“My lord, you can’t catch us. As long as you maintain the phalanx, you will never catch us.” Rysen said cautiously, “You can’t catch us, and you can’t get away. Military discipline forbids your soldiers from scattering. My companies can take turns resting while continuously harassing you, so your soldiers will have no way to rest. Your cavalry, without infantry support, can only be annihilated by mine. Without cavalry, you will…”

Narsen said mournfully, “My lord, we’ve lost.”

Wasn’t the infantry phalanx supposed to be invincible? How did they lose? Victor said, unwilling to concede, “Your soldiers are scattered everywhere. How could they possibly coordinate like that?”

“My lord, the soldiers really can do it,” Narsen muttered. “Squads have hand signals, companies have flags, and battalions have horns. We used to coordinate like that too.”

Victor looked up at the sky, his face sour. “One hundred thousand men!”

“What one hundred thousand men?” Nicole looked baffled. Victor said earnestly, “The greatest value of the infantry phalanx is in concentrating everyone’s strength. Both elite soldiers and common farmers can be effective in a military formation. They fight together, they…”

“They’re just too slow and too rigid.” Nicole pursed her lips in a smile. “My dear, let’s not even talk about the Church’s reaction. Do you think a slow-moving formation could dodge a volley from cart-mounted trebuchets? Would soldiers who must obey orders or die dare to dodge?”

Victor was speechless. He now hated all those transmigration dramas that had hyped up the invincibility of the phalanx. Upon reflection, he couldn’t help but realize that the Macedonian phalanx’s most glorious moments were in the pre-Christian era, and its opponents were just a chaotic horde of armies that, once they charged, couldn’t stop or turn back without being trampled by their own men. Although the Macedonian phalanx was highly praised and had won victory after victory, its own flaws were also obvious. The Roman Empire quickly broke the Macedonian phalanx, then Attila the Hun thrashed Rome, and subsequently, the Mongol iron cavalry swept through Europe. The phalanx failed to defeat powerful enemies. Yet, Europeans had a special fondness for the phalanx, which later evolved into the Spanish phalanx and continued all the way until the First World War. In the Battle of the Somme, British troops marching in neat rows were slaughtered by the Germans with Maxim machine guns, sixty thousand of them in a single day. This was not because the soldiers were stupid, nor because they were brave, but because rigid tactics and discipline made it impossible for the soldiers to escape.

Due to the Laws of this world, there was no gunpowder, no oil. Tens of thousands of years of human warfare had pushed cold-weapon combat to its apex. Victor copying cold-weapon tactics from Earth was tantamount to a primary school student trying to teach a university student. Nicole had just picked a random retainer and had him utterly schooled.

Victor took a deep breath and said with a wry smile, “My dear, the phalanx should still work against the Ant-men, right? In the future, we will have abundant food and a large population, and we can form an army of one hundred thousand, even hundreds of thousands. We can’t just stand by and watch the Ant-men destroy our farmlands.”

Nicole shook her head and said gravely, “Victor, Ant-men will never break under any circumstances, but soldiers will. The infantry phalanx absolutely cannot stop the Ant-men! We cannot let our soldiers die for nothing.”

Victor pondered for a moment, then nodded. “You’re right. The Ant-man chiefs are even more terrifying than Ogres.”

“Nicole, I must admit that I don’t understand military matters. I need your advice now!”

Chapter 300: Wolf Pack Tactics

“Slam!”

In the barracks west of Laketon, Narsen slammed his palm on the long oak table and shot to his feet, yelling, “The infantry phalanx is balanced in both offense and defense, like an iron wall of blades! I saw with my own eyes the Fishmen suffering devastating losses before it. How can such an excellent formation be useless?!”

“My lord, I can’t articulate any grand theories. The way I see it, whatever tactic works is a good one! If our War Bear Mercenary Company had mastered the spear phalanx back then, my left hand wouldn’t have been chewed off by a Gnoll.” A disabled old mercenary placed his left arm, which ended in an iron hook, on the table. One-Eyed Dragon Gru chimed in, “Old Kent is right. When we ran into a large pack of Gnolls, we’d form up to protect ourselves, too. But our tortoise shell formation was only good for defense, not offense. If we had a spear phalanx, we could have launched a beautiful counterattack, or fought while retreating. The Gnolls would never have dared to pursue us!”

“My lord, the York family has never used a spear phalanx, so how can they declare it useless?”

Gru’s question resonated with the attendees. A clamor of agreement filled the barracks meeting room.

Ten days ago, Nicole had pointed out the infantry phalanx’s shortcomings. Victor had immediately begun to consult with her, hoping to find a solution. However, Victor was unfamiliar with the current military systems of the lords, and Nicole likewise knew nothing of his grand legion concept. She couldn’t help Victor perfect his strategic vision for a grand legion and could only teach her lover the military knowledge of the York family. Upon returning to Laketon, Victor had immediately summoned the core members of the War Bear Mercenaries for a closed-door meeting to discuss the matter of grand legion strategy.

The grand legion strategy and the infantry phalanx were concepts proposed by Victor, then refined and implemented by the War Bear Mercenaries. They had poured a great deal of effort into the infantry phalanx. If Victor were to abandon it, it would be a negation of all their hard work. It was a result the War Bear Mercenaries could not accept under any circumstances.

Although the mercenaries were full of complaints, they couldn’t offer any constructive suggestions. Victor sat silently at the head of the long conference table, watching with a cool gaze. Instructor Baritt coughed and said, “Lady Nicole has the right to judge the merits of the infantry phalanx. She participated in the great battle against the Ant-men at Black Fortress Town. Have you all forgotten the military formation the York family deployed? Not only did the York family have a formation, but they also annihilated nearly forty thousand Ant-men!”

The room instantly fell silent. Whether an infantry phalanx could exterminate an Ant-man army was still an unknown, but the York family’s formation had wiped out over thirty thousand Ant-men—that was a solid, proven achievement. The War Bear Mercenaries had nothing more to say.

Victor glanced around and smiled. “Nicole told me about that battle. When the York family annihilated the main Ant-man force, Narsen and I were guarding Randell Fief. It’s a shame we couldn’t take part in the fighting.”

“Some of you personally experienced the annihilation of the Ant-men, and some of you didn’t. Baritt, why don’t you recount the course of the battle for us again?”

“Yes, my lord.” Baritt nodded and, after a moment’s recollection, said in a heavy tone, “During the Season of Wind two years ago, the York family began to mobilize the full strength of Black Fortress Town, preparing for a fight to the death with the Ant-men! Besides the York family’s militia, every man in Black Fortress Town who had received military training was required to fight, and that included us.”

“If I remember correctly, the commander from the York family responsible for organizing us was Village Head Bill…”

One-Eyed Dragon Gru picked up the thread, shouting, “That’s right, it was Village Head Bill! The old guy was sixty-one, his hair was half-white, but he was stronger than me. He used to be in the Fanged Legion, a magnificent old warrior. I’ll never forget him…”

Baritt glanced at Gru and continued, “To boost our morale, Village Head Bill told us about the York family’s military strength. The York family, together with the Nim family, dispatched one Gold Knight, thirteen Great Knights, forty-two Knights, and three hundred sixty-four apprentice knights. There were twenty-nine hundred soldiers from the York family’s Fanged Legion, five hundred from the Nim family’s Raging Lion Legion, thirty-three hundred ordinary guards, and thirteen thousand seven hundred York family militia. The Church sent two Archbishops, six Adjudicators, one hundred and two priests, over fifteen hundred Sacred Warriors, and then there were the sixty-three hundred of us temporarily conscripted militia.”

“In total, that was four hundred and twenty knights, over fifteen hundred Sacred Warriors, one hundred and two priests, sixty-seven hundred elite soldiers, and eighteen thousand militia.”

“We began drills a month before the pitched battle. The eighteen thousand militia were divided into seventy-two combat squads of two hundred and fifty men each. The one hundred and twenty-five York family militia in each squad wore chainmail, carried longbows, and wielded shields and one-handed halberds in the front rank. We conscripted militia wore leather armor, were equipped with longbows and thirty arrows, and carried four-meter-long spears in the rear. Village Head Bill and his ten deputies were in command of us.”

“The elite soldiers were of two types. One was heavy infantry, clad in scale armor and armed with shields and one-handed halberds of refined iron. There were thirty-one hundred heavy infantry in total, and they fought in coordination with the knights.”

“The other type was the swordsman assault battalion. They wore leather armor and wielded massive beheading greatswords. There were thirty-six hundred of them, divided into eighteen battalions. Each battalion had two hundred swordsmen, twenty shield-bearing Sacred Warriors, and four apprentice knights, all led by a Knight.” Baritt paused and said to Victor, “Lord Bruce led one such swordsman assault battalion… two of his four retainer knights were killed in action.”

Victor nodded silently. Bruce’s retainer knights had once fought alongside the War Bear Mercenaries to clear out Gnolls. Their sacrifice was a sorrowful memory.

“Since we had to engage the Ant-men in close combat, we couldn’t use fire attacks. The decisive battle was set for a rainy day, on the field outside Black Fortress Town’s moat. That day, we stood in formation in the pouring rain, lying in wait for the York family’s cavalry squads to lure the main Ant-man force over in batches.” Baritt continued, “The first wave of Ant-men was over twenty thousand strong. When these monsters saw our formation, they actually stopped! They regrouped and waited for reinforcements. We had no choice but to advance slowly in our formation. Seeing us move, the Ant-man army began to charge!” At this, Baritt turned to Victor. “My lord, can you believe it? The Ant-men charged on all fours, their speed no less than that of a warhorse. But facing the surging Ant-man tide, we didn’t panic. Our formation halted on a dime!”

“It was so. There’s no need to doubt it,” Victor affirmed with a nod.

Baritt shook his head and sighed. “Yes, that’s how it was. The moment the York family’s horn sounded, Village Head Bill and his deputies gave the order for us to draw our bows and wait for further instructions. The priests cast divine arts on the knights, heavy infantry, and Sacred Warriors. The heavy infantry and Sacred Warriors also began to consume berserk potions.”

“When the vanguard of the Ant-man army was still eight hundred meters away, eighty trebuchets were the first to unleash their power. Stone projectiles weighing over one hundred pounds each smashed into the center of the Ant-man tide, turning many Ant-men into paste. But these monsters knew no fear, no pain; they continued their charge. The trebuchets only fired two volleys before the tide surged into the range of our longbows.”

One-Eyed Dragon Gru cut in, “Hehe, when the horn blew, Village Head Bill ordered us to fire. The sight of over ten thousand militiamen loosing their arrows at once is something I’ll never forget. The arrows were denser than raindrops! The Ant-men in the front fell one after another, only to be trampled into mush by their own kind behind them. The entire ground turned green…”

“Shut up!” Baritt snapped at Gru before continuing, “My lord, although the order to fire was given, due to angle and position, many militia squad commanders didn’t have their men release their arrows, and the Ant-man losses weren’t as great as expected. The carapaces of these monsters were quite tough; as long as they weren’t hit in a vital spot, they could keep moving. In fact, the front rank of Ant-men acted as shields for their comrades, charging forward for some distance even when bristling with arrows.”

“The trebuchet and arrow fire was just a warm-up. The real battle began with the charge of the knights.”

“When the Ant-men were less than two hundred meters from our lines, the York family’s knights led three thousand heavy infantry and one thousand Sacred Warriors in a charge. They formed an arrowhead formation and cut diagonally into the Ant-man tide like a hot knife through cream. A huge gash was instantly torn in the Ant-man army. Green mist filled the air wherever the knights passed. I couldn’t see the details clearly, but the Ant-man tide was quickly split into a front and rear section.”

“Just then, the Ant-men in the front section abandoned their charge and turned to counter-attack. The rear section surged forward, attempting to overwhelm our warriors. I have to say, the intelligence of the Ant-man chiefs should not be underestimated. But their opponents were elites led by knights, and those warriors shone with the divine light of the Supreme Lord. The knights’ Aura mingled with the light of the Sacred Warriors, and the heavy infantry fought ferociously, forcefully blocking the Ant-men’s counter-assault. I then noticed that the Ant-men in the rear section were falling into chaos, group by group, and beginning to kill one another. It must have been the York family’s Gold Knight slaying the Ant-man chiefs.”

Baritt spoke with deep reverence, “I couldn’t see that great lord’s figure, but his power was on full display across the battlefield!”

Narsen clenched his fists, his eyes feverish, wishing he could be there, clad in heavy armor and wielding a sharp axe, fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with the knights of the York family, charging unstoppably through the Ant-man army. Iron and blood are the romance of a warrior. Victor had already heard Nicole’s description of the battle, but even now, his heart soared and his blood boiled, unable to resist being captivated by Sylvia’s magnificent prowess in slaying the Silver Ant-man. This had nothing to do with status, gender, or personal affection; it was a pure yearning for power and courage.

Baritt caught his breath and said, “We hadn’t expected the Ant-men in the front to stop their charge, but our commanders quickly issued new orders. The militia squads advanced steadily, while the swordsman battalions, empowered by divine arts and berserk potions, plunged into the Ant-man tide like nails.” Baritt fell silent for a long moment, then said grimly, “The lightly armored infantry of the swordsman battalions were true warriors. They swung their 1.5-meter-long greatswords, slaughtering Ant-men with devastating ease. But those monsters have no fear of death. The swordsman battalions advanced quickly, but their casualties were also heavy. Yet they maintained their high morale, pressing forward bravely without a single step back. Divine arts and potions were part of the reason, but most importantly, their liege lords and comrades were surrounded by the Ant-man army and in dire need of aid. That’s why they gave up defense, pursuing maximum killing power and speed, willing to risk their lives to butcher the enemy and aid their comrades!”

“At this point, we militia squads also engaged the enemy,” Baritt said. “Each militia squad formed two lines, with shield-and-halberd soldiers in front and spearmen behind. All we had to do was stab frantically at the Ant-men from behind the cover of the shield-and-halberd soldiers.”

Narsen frowned and asked, “Isn’t that exactly the same as our spear phalanx?”

“Similar! But not the same.” Baritt thought for a moment, then explained, “The militia was divided into seventy-two squads, each with two ranks. Each rank had a commander, and the rear commander obeyed the front commander. Each commander also had ten deputies. Most importantly, every single person in the militia squads was fighting, whereas the rear ranks of a large spear phalanx hardly make contact with the enemy.”

“The trebuchets continued to bombard the rear of the Ant-man army, the swordsman battalions carved through the swarms, the heavy infantry held the centerline, and our militia squads, together with the Sacred Warriors, caught the front section of Ant-men in a pincer. By the time we linked up with the Sacred Warriors, the ten thousand-plus Ant-men in the vanguard had been annihilated.”

“The swordsman battalions and Sacred Warriors, who had suffered the most casualties, disengaged to regroup. Our militia squads provided covering fire from behind the knights and heavy infantry, loosing arrows into the swarms until our remaining arrows were spent. Once the swordsman battalions and Sacred Warriors had regrouped, the high-ranking knights of the York family began to charge the Ant-men’s rear formation. The swordsman and Sacred Warrior battalions followed close behind, then came the heavy infantry. Our militia squads maintained formation and continued to advance.”

“By the time scattered Ant-man groups reached the battlefield, the main force of twenty thousand had been all but wiped out. The rest of the fighting was just us ganging up on them. There was no suspense.”

“Throughout the entire battle, the swordsman battalions and Sacred Warriors suffered the heaviest casualties. Nearly a thousand of them died on the spot, every man drenched in blood, every one of them wounded. I only learned afterward that Village Head Bill’s two sons were also light-armored swordsmen. They both died heroically.” Baritt shook his head and sighed, filled with emotion.

Victor nodded to himself. Instructor Baritt was slender and his martial skills were average, but he had a calm mind and a sharp eye. He had always served as the War Bear Mercenary Company’s battle commander. Baritt’s ability to observe the state of both friend and foe on a chaotic battlefield showed that he already possessed the basic qualities of an army commander.

Victor smiled and said, “Baritt, give us your analysis of this battle.”

Baritt bowed, and after a moment of thought, replied, “My lord, this was the first large-scale pitched battle I have ever participated in. There was much I didn’t understand. If you’re asking for my impression, I can only use one word to describe the process of the battle, and that is ‘fast’!”

“The whole battle made full use of the power of the knights and divine arts. The high-ranking knights of the York family broke into the enemy ranks. Every swing of their swords could kill several Ant-men, quickly opening a breach for the heavy infantry and Sacred Warriors to split the Ant-man swarm in two. The light-armored swordsmen then launched their assault, catching the front section of Ant-men between two threats. Meanwhile, our militia squads advanced layer by layer, reaping the lives of the Ant-men like harvesting wheat. Everyone on the battlefield engaged the enemy, everyone contributed their strength. Even a useless old man like me managed to skewer one Ant-man…”

“I skewered three!” Gru shouted. Baritt shot him a fierce glare and continued, “The York family’s soldiers were resolute and fearless. In just a quarter of an hour, the front section of Ant-men was finished. Three-quarters of an hour later, the main body of the swarm was completely wiped out.”

Baritt lowered his gaze and said quietly, “My lord, the York family’s soldiers had no one supervising them from behind. They didn’t have to worry about a knife in the back…”

Victor was silent for a moment before saying flatly, “I understand. Continue.”

“My lord, I can’t figure out how the York family’s commander possibly coordinated all the squads to fight together. Once the militia engaged the enemy, I couldn’t even hear the command horns anymore.” With a look of confusion on his face, Baritt listened as Victor sighed and replied, “That’s why it had to be fast! If it had dragged on, they might very well have lost.”

“Why?” Narsen asked, bewildered.

Victor said lightly, “Because by the end, there was no command.”

“How is that possible?! The entire battle was orderly,” Baritt cried out in shock.

“It’s not to say there was no command. There was still a cavalry reserve behind you.” Victor smiled, then changed the subject. “But who can command a high-ranking knight?”

Realization dawned on Narsen’s face. “That’s right! If my lord were to personally join the battle, who would have the right to command him!”

Victor smiled and said, “The York family uses Wolf Pack Tactics. This is the military philosophy that all the lords follow.”

“The knights are the wolf kings, responsible for tearing an opening in the enemy army. The heavy infantry are the wolf kings’ iron guards, responsible for protecting them and splitting the enemy formation. The swordsman assault battalions are the core strength of the pack, responsible for breaking the enemy’s resistance. And the militia squads are the most common members of the pack, responsible for eliminating remaining enemies and supporting the assault battalions. As for the mercenary companies…”

Narsen and Baritt exchanged a look and laughed. “We’re the wild wolves.”

Victor nodded and continued, “A wolf pack’s cooperative hunting is instinctual; it requires no command. To achieve this, a lord’s family army constantly drills different tactical coordination against different opponents—tactics for Goblins, for Gnolls, for Ogres, for Centaurs, and for rival families.”

“In the great battle against the Ant-men at Black Fortress, the York family completely followed their tactics for dealing with Centaurs. Lure the enemy in deep, with your back to the castle, fight speed with speed. If you can win, annihilate the enemy. If you can’t, retreat into the castle. However, due to racial differences and logistical constraints, our human armies will not easily engage Centaurs in large-scale field battles…” At this, Victor asked, “Baritt, if I gave you forty thousand soldiers arranged in our infantry phalanx, could you defeat forty thousand Ant-men?”

Baritt thought for a moment, then stood up and said, “My lord, I could not win.”

“First, the larger the infantry phalanx, the more cumbersome it is. It moves slowly and cannot coordinate with the knights and Sacred Warriors. Without the protection of the knights, the Ant-man chiefs could easily tear through the phalanx, and the soldiers wouldn’t even have a chance to retreat to the castle.”

“Second, the infantry phalanx does not emphasize individual martial prowess, so the effects of divine arts and berserk potions are minimized. The greatbowmen could at best eliminate ten thousand Ant-men before the shield-bearers and spearmen would have to engage. When the Ant-men charge the shield wall, their corpses will hang on the spears. The spearmen in the front rank would be unable to lift their seven-meter spears, and the spearmen in the rear would be practically useless. The Ant-men would simply climb over the bodies of their own kind and break the phalanx. The spearmen and greatbowmen in the back ranks have no melee capability, and the dense formation would prevent them from dodging.”

“It would be a one-sided slaughter!”

Baritt said with the utmost respect, “My lord, I have always believed that large phalanxes have no practical combat value. Small phalanxes are what suit our needs.”

“You’re right.” Victor shook his head and sighed internally: This isn’t Earth, after all.

“Then can you simultaneously command over a hundred small squads to fight in concert?”

“How could that be possible? I may not be very experienced, but I don’t think anyone could do that!”

“Exactly. That’s why Wolf Pack Tactics place extreme demands on the combat will and tactical coordination of its members. Training alone could never achieve this!” Victor tapped the table and said slowly, “The fundamental reason is the retainer system!”

“Or, you could call it the fosterage system!”

Chapter 301: The Bear Company

“As you all should know, the lord’s villages control a region of nearly three hundred square kilometers, and the head of each village is one of the lord’s vassals. They are responsible not only for defending their homes but also for providing soldiers to their liege lord. These soldiers are mostly the sons, nephews, and brothers of the village head, as well as their foster sons.”

The War Bear Mercenaries exchanged glances. Victor couldn’t help but smile. “When I found wives for you all back then, you ended up with foster sons and daughters as well, and those little ones all became my young attendants. Usually, though, a village head only takes in foster children, not women—unless the woman is exceptionally beautiful.”

“Every one of you scoundrels has more than one woman now… except Narsen!”

Gru roared, “He will soon! Linda is arranging it! Narsen’s always spending money on prostitutes, and Linda’s sick of the expense, so she’s planning to find him a few for free!”

“You bastard!”

“Ha! Ha! Ha!”

Narsen snatched up his wooden cup and threw it at the winking Gru. His flustered appearance sent the men into roaring laughter. Victor, too, smiled faintly. He waited for them to quiet down before continuing, “When a vassal’s child reaches the age of five, their parents will select children of the same age from among the refugees or freemen to be their foster sons and daughters.”

“We know about this,” Kent, an old mercenary, interjected. “The children that refugee parents can’t afford to raise are either left at a Church poorhouse or given to vassal families for adoption. If a child is chosen by a vassal lord, the parents even receive an inducement fee. Some human traffickers make a fortune off of this. But I’ve heard that the children sold to vassal lords are treated quite well.”

Human trafficking was a crime strictly forbidden by the Church; any trafficker caught would be hanged. However, nobles and their vassals were particularly fond of adopting children with an inducement fee. Great nobles would adopt the heirs of lesser families, and vassals would adopt the children of commoners. The little Baron himself had been adopted by Sophia with an inducement fee, first serving as her foster son and attendant, and eventually becoming her husband.

Foster son becomes husband!

This relationship, which Victor saw as bizarre, was in fact quite common. He shook his head and said, “Today, we’re only discussing the foster sons of the York family’s vassals, nothing else!” The War Bear Mercenaries listened with rapt attention, oblivious to the strange thoughts swirling in their lord’s mind.

“The vassals’ foster sons and daughters are treated with great care. They eat, live, bathe, and sleep with the vassal’s biological children, receiving the same education and martial arts training.”

Narsen leaned forward and exclaimed, “My lord, isn’t that what you call an attendant?”

“A retainer, not an attendant. The children of vassals have the status of freemen; they do not have the right to have attendants. Of course, the nature of a retainer and an attendant is essentially the same.”

“A wealthy village head will adopt as many children as he can. They often need a large dining hall that can accommodate dozens of people. The village head’s family treats their foster sons as their own. These boys are both the retainers of the biological son and brothers to one another. No! Their relationship is even closer than that of blood brothers.” Victor said with a smile, “The biological son and the foster sons are the same age and sleep in the same room—that’s a bond closer than what most blood brothers share. In fact, it’s common for blood brothers to lead their respective bands of retainers into brawls against each other.”

Gru praised loudly, “That’s good. They’re all a bunch of little wolf cubs.”

“Little wolf cubs… a very fitting description.” Victor nodded. “At the age of eight, they begin basic martial and tactical training. At twelve, they participate in their first hunt. If the vassal’s biological son performs well, he can be selected by a Knight to be his squire. He and his retainer-brothers will move into the Knight’s manor together to receive a formal attendant’s education, which includes taking potions to strengthen their physique and learning more advanced martial arts and tactics.”

“At fifteen, a Knight’s Squire is eligible to participate in the martial arts tournament held by the York family. If he achieves a high ranking, he and his retainers can join the Fanged Legion’s reserve team. Then, along with the other reservists, they undergo three years of rigorous training. For example, they perform long-distance forced marches in full armor while carrying heavy packs, master the use of various weapons, and flawlessly execute all kinds of tactical drills. Only those who can endure these severe trials will finally become soldiers of the Fanged Legion.”

“For the subjects of the York family, becoming a soldier in the Fanged Legion is a tremendous honor. Although they receive no pay, twenty-five years of service will add eighty mu of allotted land to their family’s holdings.”

“A soldier of the Fanged Legion has the right to choose one of his retainers to serve as his auxiliary soldier. The role of auxiliary is usually rotated among the retainers, while the others return to their families to marry, have children, and help their foster parents defend the village. And every single one of them is an elite warrior from the Fanged Legion’s reserve team. If a Legion soldier is unfortunately killed in action, his auxiliary will take his place. This is how the Fanged Legion can rapidly replenish its forces, and the foster family gets to keep the eighty mu of allotted land.”

“During their service, Fanged Legion soldiers receive tactical command training. They become familiar with the York family’s personal orders, flag signals, horn calls, and drum commands. They are exceptionally skilled at assisting Knights in battle and can also form small units with their comrades to deal with different enemies. Two-man coordination, three-man coordination, twenty-man coordination, up to a maximum of two hundred men fighting in concert—none of this is difficult for them, as it has been a part of their lives since childhood.” Victor paused, then added, “A Legion soldier gets five months of home leave each year. During his leave, his auxiliary retainer takes over his duties, while he himself teaches the Legion’s new combat methods to his other retainers and family members. The York family has always encouraged its soldiers to do this.”

“At the age of forty-three, a soldier can choose to retire. By this time, both he and his retainers will have earned the status of subjects, and they will have their own families and children. The Legion soldier must then take on the responsibility of educating his children. Some of those children will become the foster sons of vassal families, repeating the path of their fathers.”

Narsen swallowed hard and said, “Enlightenment at five, training at eight, learning the Fanged Legion’s combat methods at fifteen, and twenty-five years of service in the Legion… No wonder the Fanged Legion is the elite of the elite.”

“It’s not that simple!”

Victor sighed. “They are not just elite soldiers; they are the York family’s non-commissioned officers, commanders, and instructors. They pass on the tactics, strategies, and commands they’ve learned to their family members. Every registered subject of the York family knows the Fanged Legion’s command signals.”

“Let’s imagine for a moment: when a Gnoll tribe attacks a remote village, the village head can immediately organize a militia to defend their home. His retainers are his lieutenants. His brothers, sons, and nephews will lead their own retainers to form combat squads. They will follow the Fanged Legion’s combat doctrine to engage the Gnolls—whether it’s to kill the enemy, hold a defensive position while waiting for reinforcements, or organize a breakout. No matter what choice the village head makes, the militia squads will not be at a total loss. They’ve known how to coordinate with each other and how to deal with Gnolls since they were children.”

Baritt chimed in, “A shared system of tactics, strategies, and commands. Even if they don’t know each other, as long as they are subjects of the York family, they can cooperate.”

“That is indeed the case.” Victor nodded with a smile. “If a York family caravan happens to be passing by, they can communicate with horn calls, agree on a battle plan, and cooperate to annihilate the enemy. After the fight, they can all sit down for a drink and talk about their respective connections within the Legion.” Victor turned to Baritt. “Village Head Bill was able to lead you in battle entirely because of his retainer-brothers. They grew up together; a single look or gesture is all they need to understand each other’s intent.”

“A soldier of the Fanged Legion and his retainers can easily organize a team of men to fight in concert.”

“The fosterage system forms the most basic combat squads, and the Fanged Legion links the family’s lords, Knights, and subjects together, ultimately forming a wolf pack that can gather and disperse with great flexibility.”

A look of dawning comprehension crossed Gru’s face. “So that’s why the York family’s army fought the Ant-men so ferociously. They were aiding their own brothers!”

Victor was silent for a moment before sighing. “That day, I simply couldn’t believe that Nicole’s retainers could divide ten thousand soldiers into one hundred combat squads. Now, I believe it.”

“That is an army with conviction. They fight shoulder-to-shoulder with their kin, for their family. Our infantry phalanx is nothing but a formation of loose soldiers.”

Narsen retorted indignantly, “My lord, how is the infantry phalanx a formation of loose soldiers? Their ranks are orderly, shoulder to shoulder…”

“Order maintained by the threat of a dagger!” Baritt glanced at Narsen and said coldly, “Only undisciplined rabble requires cruel military discipline. But I believe that even with such discipline, they will still break when they’re supposed to break.”

“Thirty percent,” Victor said with a faint smile. “Once casualties exceed thirty percent, no amount of discipline matters.”

The War Bear Mercenaries all wore grave expressions, and the meeting room fell silent. Narsen looked from side to side and said in a strained voice, “My lord, I thought you were just trying to scare those boys…” Victor remained silent. Narsen stood up, walked before him, and knelt on one knee, declaring solemnly, “Honored Master, as your vassal, I give you this counsel: killing one another violates a soldier’s right to have his back covered. This will utterly shatter our family’s army.”

Victor helped Narsen to his feet and asked in a low voice, “If someone’s cowardice causes a mercenary company to fail its mission and gets their comrades killed, how do you deal with him?”

“Confiscate his weapon and strip him of his boots! The coward has to get lost barefoot!” an old mercenary shouted.

“Is being barefoot a very severe punishment?”

“We’d rather die than be barefoot!” Narsen slapped his own shoulder and back. “My lord, once we put on our boots, we are no longer ordinary men. Since we’ve become mercenaries, death and injury are inevitable. The only thing we can rely on is our comrade’s back. We have sworn an oath to protect each other’s backs, regardless of whether he is a coward or not.”

“And what if he gets a thousand men killed?”

Narsen was stunned for a long moment before muttering, “How could that…”

“You were going to say, ‘How could that be possible?’” Victor stood up, planting his hands on the table. “A liege lord also has a principle: never send his men on a suicide mission. I have upheld that.”

“When the Ant-men attacked Hill Camp, I resisted to the very end. Because I am stronger than any of you!” The faces of the War Bear Mercenaries flushed with shame. Victor’s tone shifted. “But I need you!”

“A few months ago, I crossed swords with Viscount Negus from the Dodor Kingdom. He is a powerful Extraordinary Knight. I believe he could easily kill any single Gnoll, and the Gnolls would be unable to even scratch him.” Victor continued, “There are several thousand Gnolls in the north. How long would it take Knight Negus to kill them all by himself?”

Gru cautiously ventured, “Five years?”

“Five years? He couldn’t kill them all in five hundred years. Not unless he castrated every last one of them first.”

The men erupted in laughter, but Victor said, “With an army, it’s a different story… If Viscount Negus leads one thousand soldiers, he could completely wipe out the Gnolls in three years at most!”

“A Knight needs soldiers, just as soldiers need a Knight!”

“In the battle against the Ant-men, the York family’s Knights charged at the very front, and the warriors of the Fanged Legion followed them to the death. They knew full well that if all their knightly lieges fell, the family would suffer a devastating blow. Without the family, the soldiers would lose their honor, their homes, their status, and their wealth.” His sharp gaze swept across everyone’s face as he said slowly, “Just like a mercenary losing his boots.”

“Taking off one’s boots is easy, but shouldering the hope of a family is hard. House Randell has no Knights, no Fanged Legion, so what should we do? Abandon our family, discard our fief, and go back to being lowly mercenaries?”

“Never!”

The roar of the War Bear Mercenaries was like thunder, causing the flames in the fireplace to flicker. Victor nodded in satisfaction. “A few hundred people cannot carry a family, so a few thousand will. And if that’s not enough, tens of thousands will. We must raise a larger army to protect the Randell Fief! A grand legion is imperative! Every person in this room will one day command hundreds of soldiers.”

“We swear to die for our lord!” the men shouted, rising to their feet. Victor returned to his seat at the head of the table, gestured for them to be seated, and said, “My proposal of the phalanx tactic was a mistake, because I never clearly considered who our hypothetical enemy would be. It’s as if I forged a dragon-slaying sword but can’t find any Dragons… So, how should the Randell family’s army be built?”

Narsen smacked his lips and said, “How about we imitate the Fanged Legion?”

Victor pondered for a moment, then shook his head. “Wolf Pack Tactics are a common doctrine for liege lords. They are flexible, versatile, highly mobile, place little strain on logistics, and have a high tolerance for error. Even if a battle goes poorly, it’s unlikely to result in total annihilation. But they lack the power to storm fortified positions. Our human armies’ repeated defeats in the beastmen wars prove this point.” He added with a wry smile, “Besides, Wolf Pack Tactics are primarily centered around Knights. High-end martial power is precisely what we lack.”

Victor’s words were only half-true. The combat power of the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard was comparable to that of a Great Knight. When the time came, he would have to use it; there was nothing to hesitate about. However, traditional combat doctrines were readily available, and Victor had no interest in them. If he just asked, the York family would immediately arrange for instructors to help him train his army.

Once House Randell adopted the Fanged Legion’s command signals, it would become a de facto vassal of the York family.

Victor was indifferent to this prospect. House Randell was already a vassal of the Royal Family and had to pay twenty thousand Gold Sol in taxes each year. If they became vassals of the York family, they might even save that money. However, Sylvia never brought this up. On the surface, she neither supported nor opposed the grand legion strategy, but secretly, she was quite intrigued. Under the guise of technology sharing, the York family had given Victor their soldier training methods and formulas for various physique-enhancing potions, but they had conspicuously left out the command signals and squad-level tactical coordination.

The Church was doing the same. Bishop Pello had assigned Father Miller a priest assistant and ten Sacred Warriors. One of the old Sacred Warriors would wander over to the training grounds from time to time to observe the infantry phalanx drills, often offering the soldiers tips on using a spear.

Victor understood the reasons behind this perfectly. It was proven that Wolf Pack Tactics could not help human armies defeat the beastmen, while the objective conditions for realizing a grand legion strategy were already in place. The stream reservoirs and the new agropastoral system could solve the problems of population and food supply.

Both the York family and the Church were waiting for the grand legion to bear fruit. Victor even believed that all the major powers in Gambis were pondering new military doctrines.

Whoever took the lead in military technology would gain an advantage over their rivals. Under these circumstances, Victor would never abandon the grand legion strategy, no matter what. Right now, all he could rely on were these mercenaries.

The core members of the War Bear Mercenaries huddled in the meeting room, murmuring and arguing amongst themselves. After a long while, Baritt finally stood up and said, “My lord, I don’t think we should completely dismiss the idea of the infantry phalanx. It’s just one tactic, and it’s still very effective against Fishmen, Gnolls, and Goblins. As for larger monsters like Centaurs and Ogres, we’ve never encountered them, so we can’t offer any useful opinions.”

“However, the most pressing matter right now isn’t to decide on a specific tactic, but to solve problems like military organization, logistics, command methods, and systems of rewards and punishments.”

Victor rubbed his chin. “That makes sense. I was too hasty. Do you have any suggestions?”

Baritt lowered his head in silence and said helplessly, “My lord, I don’t have a single clue at the moment.”

“If you ask me, we don’t need to think about all that!” Narsen said loudly. “My lord, we all started as mercenaries. We survived without any Knights, didn’t we? A grand legion just means more people, right? So why don’t we just form a few eight-hundred-man mercenary companies?”

“And then?” Victor raised an eyebrow, his voice listless.

“Real combat!” Narsen answered, puffing out his chest. “We fight, problems arise. We keep fighting, problems get solved. So what if people die? What mercenary doesn’t face death?”

Talk of war on paper was nothing compared to the thrill of a real battle!

It was as if Victor had a sudden epiphany. He laughed heartily. “Well said! How can you win if you never lose? If we can afford to lose, we will eventually win!”

Narsen said excitedly, “My lord, who are we going to fight?”

“Whoever it is, you’re not going.”

Victor said, “We will form two armies. One will be a traditional guard detachment, responsible for defending the fief. The other will be a large mercenary company, specializing in helping lords all over solve their problems.” Seeing Narsen’s crestfallen face, Victor added, “We’ll call it the Bear Company. Lord Narsen will be its Grand Commander… Don’t get excited yet, it’s in name only.”

“Chief, you can get your fix with the Fishmen for now. You’ll get your chance later… haha!”

“The Narsen kid is just staring with wide eyes.”

The men all teased Narsen. Baritt was the first to stand up. “My lord, let me form the Bear Company. The other old pals can take over my duties.”

Victor thought for a moment and agreed. “Very well. I’ll give you a budget of twenty thousand Gold Sol, fifty elite archers, fifteen elite soldiers, and twenty craftsmen. You can also select five War Bear Mercenaries and twenty-five household guards. Additionally, Quicksilver will provide intelligence support. As for recruitment and supplies, you’ll have to handle that yourself.”

“Don’t worry, my lord. This is my old trade.” Baritt smiled confidently, then asked, “My lord, what is our first target?”

Victor thought for a moment, then said slowly, “The Bear Company is for training our troops. We need to try all kinds of terrain—mountains, forests, plains… So, let’s go to the Worton Plains first and test ourselves against the Gnolls. That place is no good if you go with too few men; it’s perfect for a large mercenary company to operate.”

“I will not fail to live up to your expectations, my lord.” Baritt bowed. Victor was about to add a few more words of advice when an alchemical crow flew in through the window, flapped its wings, and landed on the table.

Victor untied the letter from the crow’s leg. It read: We have found the Half-dragon tribe. Imosen requests an audience with you, my lord.

Chapter 302: Preparations for Contact

The morning air was cold, the sky blanketed in dark clouds, faintly heralding the coming of a freezing rain.

Imosen pushed open the wooden door of his shanty and exhaled a puff of white mist. His lungs immediately filled with the icy, damp fog, and he couldn’t help but shiver. He frowned, wrapped his black sheepskin cloak tighter around himself, and descended the wooden ladder, strolling toward the butchering area on the west side of the camp.

“What a huge beast… I say, you’re all up and working before dawn again, aren’t you? Er… of course you are! It’s like this every day…” Imosen held his hands out to a brazier. The flames fed by Oilwood dispersed the thick, cloying fog, but the handful of butchers paid the Wizard no mind. They were busy carving up their latest kill.

A six-legged crocodile from the marsh, over four meters long, hung from a dark red wooden frame. Several purplish-gold, horn-tipped knives glided along the folds of its underbelly. In a moment, the grayish-white belly hide was peeled away, revealing fresh red flesh. A butcher raised his knife, made a swift cross-shaped cut, and a mix of organs and blood slid out from the incision, landing perfectly in a wooden bucket below. The pungent, foul stench of blood exploded into the air, but the butchers, completely unfazed, continued their work. Their expressions were focused, their coordination seamless. Their practiced movements possessed a fluid, graceful beauty. Before long, the huge beast was reduced to a pile of meat and bones and a single, complete sheet of plate-like scaled hide.

Imosen rubbed his hands together, chattering on, “Fellas, is this the twenty-seventh six-legged crocodile you’ve taken down? Or the twenty-eighth… or thirty-first? Let me see, we’ve been at this camp for fifty-one days. We’ve caught twenty-seven six-legged crocodiles, six Giant Pythons, seventy-six Capybaras, and eleven shadow spiders, maybe more… You’re always up and at it before I’m even out of bed… Say, what do you need that shadow spider fluid for? I can’t stand those brainless insects. They’re completely disobedient.”

“Looks like it’s about to rain… Let me tell you, the rainy season in the Great Marsh is the hardest to get through. The lake waters surge, big islands become small, and small islands get flooded. The air is cold and wet… If the fire goes out, we’ll be in for a miserable time… During our first Season of Water, Bel and I ate nothing but raw food for a whole month.”

“Right, when is My lord coming over?”

His only reply was the dancing of the flames and the sound of sharp knives slicing through flesh. Imosen didn’t mind; since being separated from Bel, he had grown used to talking to himself.

There were over a hundred people in the camp, along with more than twenty dire wolves and three tamed Dragon-Lizards. These people could go a whole day without speaking, doing nothing but work. If they weren’t able to eat, drink, and sleep, Imosen would have suspected them of being a troupe of circus puppets. It wasn’t that Imosen had never seen dull, stupid fools who only knew how to work, but living with so many of them made him feel exceptionally lonely and oppressed. Though he had lived in the desolate Great Marsh for a decade, he at least had his lively and lovely daughter by his side. Imosen missed Bel terribly now, but he didn’t resent the lord who had taken her away. On the contrary, he felt grateful.

No matter what, I will let Bel live a normal life! Imosen swore silently to himself.

Suddenly, several dire wolves lifted their blood-soaked heads from the wooden bucket. Their ears swiveled, and they ran toward the camp gate. Imosen’s heart leaped, and in the next moment, he saw a Dragon-Lizard pass through the gate. The dire wolves in the camp were wagging their tails at it.

“Stupid dogs, don’t come over here! Sit! Your faces are covered in blood and you still want to rub against me…”

Several figures jumped down from the Dragon-Lizard’s back. Imosen rubbed his eyes and cried out in disbelief, “Bel! Beldina?” The smallest figure was indeed Beldina. Hearing her father’s call, she came running over with a skip in her step. Imosen swept his beloved daughter, whom he thought of day and night, into his arms, and tears streamed down his face.

“Father, don’t cry. It’s impolite,” Beldina said matter-of-factly, finally managing to wiggle her head free from Imosen’s embrace.

Still so cheerfully oblivious.

Imosen looked at her chubby little face, which had filled out considerably, and his heart swelled with joy. As long as there was food to eat and people to play with, Bel would never cry. Then his eyes went wide, and he stammered, “Dar… Darling, you… you can talk?”

“Yes.” Bel touched Imosen’s chin. “Father’s beard is gone.” She tilted her head, thought for a moment, and added, “It’s still not as smooth as Master’s.” Imosen couldn’t care less about that. Overjoyed, he repeated, “Praise the Supreme Lord! Praise the Supreme Lord! My Bel can talk! Bel can talk!”

“Darling, how did you learn to speak?”

“Mm… It was Grandpa Miller who helped me start talking. He’s a servant of the Supreme Lord.” After a pause, Beldina added conspiratorially, “Father, Grandpa Miller also said Bel can grow up, just a little slowly… and that eating lots of yummy things will help me grow faster.”

Imosen’s heart tightened. He lowered his voice and asked, “What… what else did Father Miller say?”

“Father Miller said Bel is very cute… You don’t need to worry about your identity implicating Bel.” Victor had walked over silently. He looked the Wizard up and down and smiled. “Imosen, you look younger.”

The lord wore a suit of armor with smooth lines and an exquisite design. Its silver-gray luster was hazy and dim, as if it had merged with the cold fog of the Great Marsh. Imosen was startled. He quickly put Beldina down and said haltingly, “My lord, good day. I shaved my beard. No! It’s all thanks to your grace. I’ve been eating well and sleeping soundly here, so naturally, I look younger.”

Victor smiled faintly and patted Bel’s little head. “It’s cold out here. You and Bel haven’t seen each other in a while. Take her inside to talk and warm up by the fire. We can discuss our business later.”

“Thank you, My lord!” Imosen bowed deeply and took Bel’s little hand, leading her toward the wooden shanty. As they walked, Bel asked, “Father, is there anything yummy in the house?”

“There’s thick serpent-and-mushroom soup, roasted six-legged crocodile loin, and stone-grilled mud shrimp.”

“Add salt!”

“I promise there’ll be salt!”

After sending Imosen and his daughter away, Victor turned to Jack. “Show me around and tell me about your accomplishments.”

Jack, the elite militiaman, nodded. “My lord, please follow me.”

“The camp currently has fifty auxiliary soldiers, eighty Lithe Ape militiamen, forty Crouching Ox Militiamen, twenty-five Warhounds, and three Alchemical Dragon-Lizards. We have constructed twenty wooden buildings and six arrow towers. The terrain here is relatively high, so the camp won’t be flooded even when the lake waters surge during the rainy season.”

The wooden buildings constructed by the Alchemical auxiliary soldiers had open lower levels and living and storage quarters on the upper floors, similar to the bamboo stilt houses of southern Huaxia. They were well-suited to the humid marsh environment, though their load-bearing capacity was somewhat poor, preventing them from storing large quantities of supplies. Victor glanced at the buildings in the camp, thinking that if the Lizardman trade went smoothly, he could have the camp rebuilt with rock bricks.

Jack continued his report, “Over the past few days, we’ve captured thirty-four six-legged crocodiles and eleven Giant Pythons, yielding hides sufficient to craft forty-one sets of Class-Three leather armor. We’ve also captured fourteen shadow spiders and gathered one hundred nineteen pounds of various medicinal herbs, which can be processed into 3.3 pounds of color-changing dye.”

“We also collected sixty-two Purification Crystals, seventeen pounds of the Class-One ingredient Blue Taro, and over thirty-six hundred pounds of Thousand-Bend Reed seeds.”

The Class-Three Vine-hide armor made from six-legged crocodile and Giant Python hides had defensive properties comparable to refined iron scale armor, yet it was as light and flexible as ordinary leather armor. Once the Swiftbird light cavalry were equipped with this type of armor, their close-combat capabilities would be significantly enhanced. As for the color-changing dye, Victor had already experienced its effects firsthand. The Thorium leather armor he was wearing could now blend into its surroundings entirely thanks to the dye. While it couldn’t match the perfect concealment of a shadow spider, it at least overcame the disadvantage of the Thorium armor’s reflective surface. However, the color-changing dye was most effective on leather. Victor planned to produce some color-changing cloaks, which would greatly improve the stealth capabilities of his scouts and archers. Besides its use in making Snow Sugar, the Purification Crystals were also excellent for purifying water. The Class-One ingredient Blue Taro, highly esteemed by Alchemists, was something Victor had tried once at the mountain stronghold. It had a strange taste that not even a little foodie like Beldina enjoyed.

These natural resources were undoubtedly precious, but Victor placed more importance on the unremarkable Thousand-Bend Reed.

Thousand-Bend Reed was a common marsh plant, its rhizomes and seeds being the primary food source for Capybaras and fish. The seeds of the Thousand-Bend Reed were similar to sorghum on Earth, with an average yield of about 240 pounds per mu. Although its yield wasn’t high, it was widely distributed, could be harvested twice a year, and most importantly, could be stored for up to three years.

Grain reserves were fundamental to governance; once a foodstuff could be easily stored, it gained strategic value. Although the Randell Fief was heavily investing in water conservancy projects and promoting new agricultural and pastoral methods, dried ground-potatoes could only be stored for six to eight months, and Spiked Kidney Beans were more like vegetables, with a shelf life of only ten-odd days. Meanwhile, wheat, which was harvested once a year, had a limited yield per mu. Expanding wheat cultivation would inevitably impact the Randell Fief’s forest resources, pastoral development, and the precious Purple Cane forest.

The boundless Lizard Marsh was a natural granary. The area already explored by his alchemical creatures was 24,000 square kilometers, of which the wetlands suitable for growing Thousand-Bend Reed were estimated to be fifteen million mu. If Victor could occupy just a small fraction of this, he could optimize the industrial structure of the Randell Fief.

To put it simply, Thousand-Bend Reed would even be good for feeding pigs.

Now, the main obstacle to Victor’s development of the Great Marsh was a lack of manpower. He couldn’t rely on ordinary people for the time being. Although his alchemical creatures were endless, they amounted to just over two thousand pairs of hands. The only labor force Victor could think of at the moment was the marsh natives—the Half-dragons.

Whether through trade or enslavement, Victor had to secure a Half-dragon tribe, and the Wizard Imosen was the key! In fact, with a firm grip on Imosen, Victor could even enslave a group of Goblins to assist the Half-dragons in exploiting the marsh’s resources.

After a brief tour of the outpost, Victor entered the largest wooden building and instructed Jack, “Go and bring Imosen here.”

Before long, Imosen appeared before Victor with Beldina in tow.

“My lord, you summoned me?” Imosen bowed with a broad smile. Victor nodded and beckoned for Bel to come closer. “Beldina, Imosen and I have matters to discuss. Why don’t you go play with Jack and the others for a while?” he said kindly, wiping a grease stain from Bel’s little face with a towel. Seeing this, Imosen was completely reassured. Bel had already told him that her Master was good to her, My Lady was very good to her, the little attendants were all very good to her, and Father Miller was especially good to her. But hearing it was different from seeing it with his own eyes. At that moment, the last great weight was lifted from Imosen’s heart.

“Master, those people outside aren’t any fun. They won’t play with Bel.” The little girl blinked, putting on a pitiful expression. She instinctively knew which creatures she could approach and which she should avoid, but to her, the people and animals in this camp were like flowers and trees—fine to look at, but no need to talk to them.

“These fellows are indeed quite boring,” Victor nodded. Imosen’s face fell, sharing the sentiment. Victor continued, “Imosen, as long as you are loyal to me and serve me diligently, I will arrange for you to live in Laketon.”

“Thank you, My lord! I swear, I will never betray you!” Imosen was overjoyed. Living day in and day out with these workaholics was about to drive him mad. Bel lifted her little face and asked cheerfully, “Master, can I live with Father then?”

“No!” Imosen said sternly. “Beldina, what did I tell you? you’re an orphan. You have no parents!”

“There’s no reason she can’t,” Victor said coolly. “I am promoting you to Master of the Hunt of House of Randell. Not only can you adopt Bel, but you can also marry and have more children.”

“My lord, can I really be your master of the hunt? I… I’m a…” Imosen was deeply moved, his lips trembling, ultimately unwilling to say the word “Wizard.”

So he’s just a mutant with superpowers? Victor curled his lip dismissively. “I am not the first noble to keep a Wizard, nor will I be the last. As long as you behave yourself, you will naturally live a good life. However…” Victor chuckled lightly, then added, “I might as well tell you, if our relationship is ever exposed, the worst that will happen to me is exile to the Eastern Alliance. You, on the other hand, will not escape the fate of being Purified, and Bel might be implicated as well.”

A chill ran through Imosen’s heart. He quickly said, “I would never dare to bring trouble upon you, My lord… I only hope that you can protect Bel.”

“I will do my utmost to protect Beldina,” Victor promised solemnly. “Now, let’s talk about your work.”

“Bel, you should go outside now.” Imosen gave his daughter a meaningful look, but Beldina wouldn’t be swayed. She pouted. “I won’t! You’re not my master. Only Master can give orders to his handmaiden.”

Victor didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Forget it. What doesn’t Bel already know? Even if she lets something slip, who would believe a child’s words? As long as you don’t use Wizardry in front of others, it’ll be fine.”

“That’s true. Bel has many Lizardmen friends, after all,” Imosen said with a self-deprecating laugh. He suddenly realized that he and this young lord shared a common secret. At this thought, his tone became much more familiar, as if he considered himself one of Victor’s confidants. “Honored Master, five days ago, Lord Jack found a group of Half-dragons. I went to negotiate with them as you instructed. These Half-dragons treated me with great respect…”

“Did you succeed?” Victor asked, pleased.

“Er… there was a slight complication,” Imosen said fearfully. “I discovered this group of Lizardmen came from three different tribes. Their original tribes were…” Imosen gritted his teeth and told the truth. “They were attacked by Philip and have since collapsed. Philip was the Aberrant Dragon-Lizard I used to control. The Lizardmen worship it as a totem behemoth, calling it Itugos. Last year, I was knocked out by Lord Jack while casting a spell and lost control of Philip. It has now become a true Aberrant monster—bloodthirsty, cruel, and merciless. The Lizardmen tribes were attacked by it and suffered heavy casualties. The survivors have formed a new tribe and are preparing to leave Philip’s territory.”

Victor’s brow furrowed. “And you just let them go?”

“No, no,” Imosen said, waving his hands frantically. “The Lizardmen know Philip was my pet. They begged me not to let Philip eat them all. They are willing to follow the Half-dragon tribal tradition and provide blood food for the totem behemoth. I pretended to agree, to keep them here for now.”

“And the Half-dragons believed you?”

“These filthy beastmen have no other choice,” Imosen said with contempt. “The freezing rain is coming. Having lost their territory, their only choice is to migrate west and fight bloody battles with other Half-dragon tribes, or they’ll all starve. But this group of Half-dragons was weak to begin with; they’re no match for other tribes. Leaving means death, and staying means death. Being able to remain here now is their only hope for survival.”

Victor turned to Jack. “Where are these Half-dragons? What’s their population? How strong are they?”

“To the northwest, 274 kilometers away. There are 897 Half-dragons, 39 Serpent Fiends, and 27 dire Half-dragons. The rest of the ordinary members are mostly females and young,” Jack replied.

Victor considered for a moment, then said in a low voice, “Jack, go to the mountain stronghold at once. Mobilize one hundred fifty elite archers, sixty elite warriors, and fifty dire wolves. Equip them with heavy crossbows, and bring all the Dragon-Lizards over.”

“We’re going to pay a visit to this group of Half-dragons!”

Chapter 303: Trade and Enslavement

It was five days later when Victor reached the edge of the Half-dragon settlement.

Traversing the swamp was no easy task, not even for Alchemical militia who specialized in foraging in the wild. Lizard Marsh was riddled with traps and fraught with peril, a place utterly hostile to humans. Along the march, the party had been attacked by wild beasts no fewer than fifty times. Although most of the predators ended up as spoils for the alchemical creatures, one Lithe Ape militiaman was still dragged into the water by a Giant Python. This was mainly because the swampy mire made travel difficult, forcing the two hundred Alchemical militia into a long, single-file column. The Warhounds on guard duty could not cover the entire procession, and an accident occurred as a result. This only went to show that humans were indeed unsuited for large-scale production or military operations in a swamp.

If this was the case for the Alchemical militia, what hope did ordinary people have?

In truth, the proper way to use the Logistics Alchemy Tower was to have the alchemical creatures form their own foraging teams. However, Victor needed a powerful and loyal armed force to ensure his achievements were not usurped. He planned to gradually replace the alchemical creatures in production with ordinary laborers, thereby freeing up more Alchemical militia.

Conquering the Half-dragon tribe was the beginning of this plan.

A cold, biting rain drizzled down. Victor and Imosen took shelter under a makeshift rain canopy, discussing the Half-dragon tribe.

Verbal communication was merely the foundation of their interaction. As a sapient beastmen species, the Half-dragons possessed a unique social structure; their lifestyle, habits, and values were vastly different from those of humans. Victor had to consider what strategy to adopt to achieve his ultimate goal.

Imosen had lived in the Great Marsh for over a decade, but he rejected humanoid monsters to his very core. If not for Beldina, he would never have had any dealings with the Half-dragon tribe. Even so, his understanding of them was only superficial; he had even refused the tribe’s offer to serve his Aberration Dragon-Lizard.

Victor, on the other hand, had a much deeper understanding of the lizard-kin tribes. According to the records in the Alchemical militia’s Will Side, the Lizardmen, Serpent Fiends, Marsh Giant Lizards, and Hydra Lizards were all blood-kin of an ancient behemoth—the King of the Black Marsh. The relationship between them was quite peculiar. The Hydra Lizard held a natural dominion over its fellow blood-kin. The Lizardmen regarded the Hydra Lizard as their totem behemoth; they tamed Serpent Fiends and lived by fishing and hunting, providing the Hydra Lizard with food, cleaning its environment, and raising its young. This servitude stemmed from the Lizardmen’s Bloodline, passed down through generations and deeply ingrained.

It was as if the King of the Black Marsh had created a host of hybrids solely to serve his own true son. The Lizardmen were the Hydra Lizard’s slaves, the Serpent Fiends were their hunting hounds, and the Marsh Giant Lizards were the Hydra’s guards and enforcers. However, the promiscuous Dragons had meddled in the family affairs of the King of the Black Marsh. The Marsh Giant Lizards had now become Marsh Dragon-Lizards; their bodies had shrunk, and they now possessed both the regenerative talent of the Black Marsh blood-kin and the Dragons’ Lightning Reflexes. The Marsh Dragon-Lizards would not attack a Hydra Lizard, but they no longer responded to its call. The Half-dragons claimed to have a dragon lineage, but their dragon blood was rather thin, and they still retained the instinct to serve a bloodline behemoth. They were, however, stronger, more intelligent, and more independent than their Lizardmen cousins, and also fewer in number. Half-dragons possessed Dynamic Vision, the ability to breathe underwater, and a high healing ability. The dire Half-dragons even had the talent of regenerating severed limbs.

The Half-dragons’ territorial awareness was extremely strong. Those tribes that served a Hydra Lizard would mercilessly kill any of their own kind who invaded their territory. Meanwhile, Lizardmen tribes far from a Hydra Lizard’s domain were constantly preparing to usurp their rivals to get closer to their totem behemoth. This constant killing one another kept the Half-dragon population stable. After all, the Great Marsh had a fixed area and could not support too many swamp creatures.

The Alchemical militia knew the Half-dragons’ habits but not their social structure. Victor, however, believed that a species with a monotonous diet and a strong sense of servitude and exclusion could not possibly achieve social division of labor, nor would a primitive, unenlightened tribe have any concept of trade. In comparison, the Centaurs, Gnolls, and Ogres, who all enslaved vassal races, had developed more complex social structures and were far more aggressive.

Trade exists between equals; between unequals, there is only servitude!

Unfortunately, no race could enslave the Half-dragons or Lizardmen in the Great Marsh. Their home-field advantage was too great; the moment they slipped into the water, no one could do anything to them. If Imosen were to create another Aberration Marsh Dragon-Lizard, he could perhaps establish a liege-vassal relationship with the Half-dragons, but Victor had no need to directly enslave a Half-dragon tribe, nor would he allow Imosen to possess the power to rival him. Therefore, Victor was prepared to introduce another force to break the stalemate: Goblins.

Those green-skinned runts, the Goblins, could adapt to any environment. They ate little, bred much, were clever, and had nimble fingers, but their physical strength was pathetic, making them excellent slaves. Goblins were indeed accustomed to attaching themselves to stronger races. Without the protection of the Half-dragons, they could not survive in the Great Marsh. Yet, the primitive Half-dragon tribes had no need for Goblin slaves. This was precisely the opening for Victor’s development plan.

Victor planned to first occupy a territory in the Great Marsh for the Half-dragon tribe to live and multiply. The Half-dragons would act as bodyguards and overseers for the Goblin slaves, but the one the Goblins truly served would be Victor. Once the Half-dragon tribe grew to a certain size, they would inevitably have to march into a Hydra Lizard’s territory to challenge other tribes. The losers would continue to manage the Goblin slaves. Thus, the Half-dragons and Goblins would not form a catalytic bond, making it impossible for them to evolve into a new, powerful, and independent tribe. They would be unable to change the cooperative relationship established by Victor and could only obediently gather resources.

“My lord, the Lizardmen are here,” Jack said, lifting the oilcloth flap of the tent entrance to address Victor.

Victor rose and walked outside. Through the curtain of rain, he saw a group of upright, large lizards five hundred meters away, facing off against the fully armed Alchemical militia.

These Half-dragons stood about two meters tall. Sturdy muscles rippled beneath their black natural scale armor. Their limbs were long and powerful, their mouths filled with fine, sharp teeth, and their amber eyes held dark green, slitted pupils. Interspersed among the Half-dragons were lizards as large as lions and tigers; these were the Serpent Fiends tamed by the Half-dragons, also known as Petrifying Lizards. Nearly every Half-dragon clutched a bone javelin, their taut tails sweeping back and forth restlessly, a clear sign of their anxiety.

“These Half-dragons look very tense,” Victor said to Imosen with a slight smile. “I won’t go over. You should know what to do.”

“Understood! Intimidation and deception,” Imosen said, nodding repeatedly with confidence.

“Exactly. Sometimes, words are more effective than blades,” Victor said with a wave of his hand. “Take the Dragon-Lizards and the dire wolves with you. I’ll be waiting for your good news.”

“I will not disappoint you, my lord!” Imosen swung himself into the saddle. The Alchemical Dragon-Lizard let out a deep roar and strode toward the Half-dragons. Dozens of Alchemical Warhounds followed closely behind. At that moment, the Wizard truly had the air of a Chosen.

Seeing Imosen approach with a pack of Dragon-Lizards and dire wolves, the Half-dragon tribe first fell into a commotion. Then, a tall and burly Half-dragon broke away from the group and spoke in a hiss that humans could not understand, “Wizard, have you come to fight the Children of the Mire to the death?”

“Killing all of you would not be difficult for me, but I have never done so,” Imosen said, gazing down arrogantly at the Half-dragon chief. “Karu, you’ve known this from the very beginning.”

The Half-dragon Karu’s tail curled slightly. “But you refused our offer to provide for Itugos, then you had it attack us, and now you’ve brought a human army.” The bone javelin pointed toward the surrounding Alchemical militia, the Half-dragon’s slitted pupils glinting with a cold light. “Humans should not be in the mire. The Children of the Mire do not fear a bloody battle.”

Imosen glanced around. “These are all my slaves, just like Itugos.” He paused, then added, “Itugos has gone mad. It has become bloodthirsty and cruel, a threat to all life. I will lead my slaves to kill Itugos as punishment for defying my will.”

Karu hissed, “You want us to help you get rid of Itugos? The Children of the Mire will never harm a bloodline behemoth! Not even a mad one.” The Half-dragon then added, “Wizard, we will not stand in your way, either.”

“Your wise choice has saved you from a fatal doom.” Imosen smiled contemptuously and gestured toward the Great Marsh. “This is my territory. After I dispose of Itugos, if the Half-dragons wish to remain, they must obey me. Otherwise, I will annihilate the Half-dragons in my territory just as I did the Ogres.”

The Half-dragon chief brandished his bone javelin. “Wizards and Ogres are not bloodline behemoths. The Half-dragons will not serve you.”

“Serve me? What can Half-dragons do for me? Clean my dung? Or catch fish and shrimp? You can’t even use fire… Haha,” Imosen laughed, shaking his head. “I have slaves. I have no need for Half-dragons to serve me.”

“The Half-dragons may hunt in my territory, but I have one condition,” Imosen said. “I want the seeds of the Thousand-Bend Reed and certain minerals. I will order my Goblin slaves to collect these things. However, Goblins are weak. I need you to protect them, supervise them, make them work hard, and transport my things to a designated location. That is all.”

Karu tilted his lizard head, thinking for a moment before replying, “The meat of the green-skinned runts is not tasty. Giant Pythons, six-legged crocodiles, Barlow Turtles, and Tiger Sturgeons are not picky eaters. The Half-dragons cannot protect all the green-skinned runts.”

“Creatures that aren’t picky eaters also eat Half-dragons,” Imosen said coldly. “You don’t have to protect all the Goblins, but your task is to kill as many of those beasts as you can.” With that, he turned to a Lithe Ape militiaman beside him. “Captain Jack, give me a javelin.”

Jack pulled out a refined iron javelin. Imosen tossed it at the feet of the Half-dragon chief. “Half-dragons need the meat and bones of beasts. I need their hides. For every three six-legged crocodile hides, or two Giant Python skins, or three shadow spiders you deliver to me, I will reward the Half-dragons with a weapon like this.”

Karu clutched the sharp, heavy refined iron javelin, unable to put it down, his tail coiled into a tight ball. The other dire Half-dragons wanted to snatch it but were forcefully rebuffed by Karu. They conversed for a moment, and then the Half-dragon chief spoke, “With javelins like this, we can protect the green-skinned runts.”

“You exchange the hides and shadow spiders for them,” Imosen stressed, pulling several ore samples from the saddlebag of the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard. “There are many minerals underwater. If you bring me these minerals, you can also exchange them for weapons.”

One of the dire Half-dragons picked up a sample of Saronite Demon Iron Ore and hissed, “Haru has seen this stone…”

“You’ve really seen it?” Imosen’s eyes instantly lit up. This strange ore was a resource Victor had specifically instructed him to pay special attention to.

“Ask it where it was found. How much of it is there?” Like a wisp of smoke, Victor appeared silently beside Imosen. His sudden arrival startled the Wizard and sent the dire Half-dragons stumbling back. Not daring to delay, Imosen quickly questioned the dire Half-dragon.

“Loach Lake. There are many of these stones at the bottom of the lake,” Imosen translated the Half-dragon’s reply.

Victor shook his head with a faint, wry smile. “That’s as good as saying nothing. Forget it, you may continue.” Still, he thought, it’s good news just to confirm the existence of Saronite Demon Iron Ore.

“For every five baskets of this stone you bring me, you will get one javelin,” Imosen announced. “Just like the one Karu holds!”

“Done!” “Agreed!” “We’ll exchange!” The dire Half-dragons all curled their tails, showing their delight.

But the chief, Karu, said, “Wizard, with these weapons, we will eventually leave…”

“Then you will have to tell the ones you defeat that any Half-dragon in my territory must abide by my rules. Otherwise…” The Wizard’s tone turned grim.

“Roar!” Though Victor could not understand the Half-dragon language, he gave the order at the perfect moment. The five Alchemical Dragon-Lizards and dozens of Warhounds roared in unison. The sound rolled out like thunder, tearing through the rain. The Half-dragons panicked, and the Serpent Fiends turned as if to flee. Imosen fought the urge to cover his ears, only to notice that the warriors around him stood unshaken, firm as mountains.

Victor waved his hand, and the wild, tide-like roars were cut off as if by an invisible pair of scissors. He nodded to Imosen, “That’s enough. Let’s go.”

“In twenty days, you may return to your original settlement,” Imosen instructed the Half-dragon chief, then trotted to catch up with Victor. He asked in a low voice, “My lord, where are we going?”

“To get rid of Itugos.”

“Ah?!”

“What? Can’t bear to part with it?” Victor raised an eyebrow, his voice faint. “Did you think I mobilized so many warriors just to intimidate a few Half-dragons?”

“No, no. I don’t feel reluctant at all,” Imosen explained in a panic. “My lord, Captain Jack said that Itugos has gotten much bigger than before, and it has even grown two legs from its abdomen… I’m worried it will kill many of our warriors… You won’t blame me for that, will you?”

Victor glanced at the trembling Wizard and sighed. “That is why we must eliminate it as soon as possible.”

The thirst for flesh and blood of a Biological Aberration was endless, its mind consumed by the desire to kill. The more flesh it absorbed, the deeper its Aberration became, its body growing larger, its power increasing by leaps and bounds. Its range of activity would expand, leading it to create more slaughter and consume more flesh. Fortunately, most Biological Aberrations were insectoid; their lifespans were short, and even if they weren’t killed, they wouldn’t live more than a few years. However, the original form of Itugos was a Marsh Dragon-Lizard. No one knew how long it could live, or what it might become. One thing was certain: this Biological Aberration already posed a threat to the safety of the outpost camp. It would cause Victor’s entire development plan to go up in smoke.

Itugos must die!

Chapter 304: A Fruitless Return

Dark clouds, like a thick curtain, blotted out the sun. A freezing rain fell at a slant, its patter creating ripples across the gloomy lake’s surface. A bloody stench, too thick for even the rain to wash away, filled the cold mist by the shore.

On the lakeshore, a Crouching Ox Militiaman pinned down a struggling, squealing half-grown wild boar. With a swift flash of a knife, warm blood gushed from the piglet’s neck. He casually tossed the blood-soaked boar a dozen meters away, where the corpses of over a hundred wild boars, capybaras, and elk were already piled high. The surrounding lake water had turned into a pool of blood.

“…One hundred and seven… Why isn’t it here yet?” Imosen, restless and anxious, couldn’t help but mutter to himself. Normally, such a thick scent of blood would have long attracted countless predators with keen noses. They would have crowded the shore, feasting on the free meal. But now, not a single guest had arrived for this gluttonous banquet.

In truth, forget beasts like the six-legged crocodiles; not even the most common capybara could be seen within a ten-kilometer radius. The bloody bait on the shore had been brought over from the forward outpost on Victor’s orders. This meant that any animal of significant size in the vicinity had either been killed or had fled, and the culprit was undoubtedly Itugos.

Imosen knew Itugos’s capabilities because he understood his own. The former Philip had been over ten meters long from head to tail and consumed an average of two hundred pounds of meat per day. It was a manifestation of Imosen’s power, but also the limit of what Aberration Wizardry could control. It was like a man who could only lift a stone of a certain weight; any more, and the stone would crush him. Thus, Imosen was powerless to control more, stronger Aberrant Rats, and could only command them to remain dormant, feeding just once every ten days to maintain their most basic survival needs.

The battle between Itugos and the Ogres had given Imosen a direct understanding of the Giant Aberration’s strength. Itugos had rampaged through the Ogre camp, disemboweling several adult Ogres. Although the berserk Ogre chief had pinned the Giant Aberration to the ground and pummeled it, gashing its body with a giant obsidian axe, it could never finish the beast off. Its Extraordinary Regeneration allowed Itugos to fight on relentlessly. In the end, the Ogre chief could only lead its kin in a hasty retreat.

Ogres were monsters beyond the might of ordinary men. If Itugos had been able to sweep away a small Ogre clan back then, how powerful was the Giant Aberration now, after devouring so much blood and flesh?

The pile of prey formed a small hill, and crimson blood slowly bloomed in the dark green lake water, like an eerie red silk banner beckoning the nightmare from the lake’s depths. Rain pattered against the sawgrass, a soft hissing sound. The warriors and their war beasts stood quietly in a circle, their combined breaths forming a white web of mist, like a giant puffing out clouds of smoke. Five Dragon-Lizards, forty dire wolves, and two hundred elite warriors—such a formidable force was more than enough to kill Itugos. Imosen had no doubt about that. At the same time, he believed that Itugos would inflict heavy losses on this army.

“Although it’s not my fault that Itugos went mad, if the lord loses too many elite troops, he’s bound to fly into a rage from shame and humiliation. If he blames me, will he punish me? And these five Dragon-Lizard war beasts aren’t just common wolves you can find anywhere. If a few of them die, will that mysterious Wizard come looking for trouble with me? I wonder if my lord told him about me?” Imosen’s mind was in turmoil, filled with strange thoughts. He was certain that Victor had a Wizard under his command who could breed dire animals, but he had never tried to confirm it. Although Imosen was a Wizard himself, he had no desire to deal with his own kind, lest they get each other into trouble.

Rumble…

A low roll of thunder sounded. A downpour was imminent.

Victor stared at the vast, misty lake and suddenly asked, “Imosen, do you feel Itugos?”

“No…” Imosen shook his head and stammered, “My lord, I lost my connection to Philip a long time ago. Even if I were standing right in front of it, I wouldn’t be able to control it.”

“In that case… you should fall back for now. Because it’s already here.” After speaking, Victor picked up two fully-drawn heavy crossbows and slipped into a patch of dense, withered sawgrass, vanishing without a trace in the next moment. A squad of soldiers escorted Imosen away from the shore. Before he left, he saw a white line cutting through the lake’s surface, speeding toward them like an arrow.

The white line became a white wave. First, bone spurs broke the surface, then two enormous, hideous Dragon-Lizard heads rose from the water. Blood-red vertical pupils swept over the alchemical creatures on the shore. After a sniff of the air, Itugos focused its attention on the blood food by the lake. In its eyes, the alchemical creatures were like dirt and trees, completely devoid of nutrition and not worth a second glance.

When Itugos came ashore, its full form was revealed to Victor. Its two heads were four times larger than a normal Dragon-Lizard’s, its sharp teeth like a row of daggers, capable of swallowing two capybaras in one bite. Its necks, thick as barrels, were long and flexible. A row of eighty-centimeter-long bone spikes grew from its spine. It had six limbs on its belly; the front and back pairs were similar to a Dragon-Lizard’s, but the middle pair were like a walrus’s flippers, covering almost half its abdomen. These abdominal fins were adapted for both underwater movement and crawling on soft mud. Dark red scale armor, dense and compact, covered its entire body, faintly gleaming with a metallic luster that suggested extreme durability. Its thick, long tail seemed able to pivot, with a fin at its tip studded with bone spikes. When it swung, it was like a giant double-bladed axe.

This Aberrant Dragon-Lizard had a savage aura and a terrifying appearance. Its massive size exuded a suffocating pressure, as if a two-headed evil dragon from legend had returned to the world. However, Victor had already entered his Apocalypse state. In his eyes, there was only a stream of data.

Physique 23, Spirit 16, Perception 20, Life 57. Neck length 4.93 meters, body length 8.76 meters, tail length 10.89 meters, shoulder height 4.57 meters. Judging from the impressions in the ground, its weight is approximately 14 tons. Strength unknown, Burst speed unknown, ground speed no less than 16 meters per second, underwater speed no less than 22 meters per second. The Biological Aberration has lost its wild instincts. Known talents include Extraordinary Regeneration and Lightning Reflexes, specific effects unknown. Its scales and flesh are extremely tough; Thorium heavy crossbows cannot fully penetrate. Its eyes and anus are weak points. I will target the eyes.

The gentle breeze gathering around the Adamantine twin-silver crossbow bolts quickly turned a deep blue. Victor held a Thorium heavy crossbow in each hand and pulled the triggers. Two streams of blue light instantly crossed the two-hundred-meter distance and struck the two right eyes of the two-headed colossus.

Pfft! Pfft! Blood blossomed. Itugos, which had been busy feeding, let out a pained roar, and its two heads snapped toward the patch of reeds where Victor was hiding.

“Elemental Resistance!”

The Aberrant Dragon-Lizard was enormous and physically resilient, and it possessed the talent of Extraordinary Regeneration. To it, the heavy crossbow bolts were like embroidery needles. Even if a bolt entered its brain, it wouldn’t be fatal. But with two bolts churning in its brain tissue, it was bound to be severely wounded, and if not paralyzed, it would at least be thrown into confusion. However, the instant the bolts entered the giant beast’s eyes, the void wind element attached to them rapidly dissipated, preventing the bolts from fully penetrating its brain. A small portion remained sticking out. Victor’s attack had not been completely successful, and the only possible reason was the two-headed Dragon-Lizard’s extremely high elemental resistance.

The enraged Itugos charged, crossing twenty-seven meters in a single second. Victor decisively exited his Apocalypse state. He needed to prepare for a protracted battle!

“Kill it!” With Victor’s command, the battle instantly became white-hot.

Five Alchemical Dragon-Lizards charged forward, with the Warhounds and Crouching Ox Militiamen close behind, clashing with Itugos. The Lithe Ape militiamen fired their heavy crossbows from the rear in relentless volleys, a rain of bolts showering the great beast. Victor picked up his Dual-Silver shortbow, searching for an opportunity to strike its vital points. Before long, Itugos’s abdomen, neck, and flanks were studded with refined iron crossbow bolts. Four of the Alchemical Dragon-Lizards latched onto its four main limbs, holding it in place, while the fifth tore a massive wound in its side. A torrent of blood plasma gushed out, drenching the nearby Warhounds and Crouching Ox Militiamen, who used their fangs and refined iron longswords to carve one wound after another. All four of Itugos’s eyes had also been shot out by Victor. It roared in pain and fought back furiously, as if it would collapse under the siege of the alchemical creatures at any moment. However, this was merely an illusion.

The wounds opened by the Crouching Ox Militiamen’s refined iron longswords were not large and were mainly concentrated on its non-vital limbs and abdominal fins. The damage caused by the Alchemical Warhounds was negligible. While the refined iron bolts sticking out of Itugos looked dreadful, their killing power was actually very limited. Even an adult man in hardened leather armor wouldn’t be seriously injured if stuck full of embroidery needles, to say nothing of a creature with regenerative abilities worthy of a legend. The Aberrant Dragon-Lizard’s regeneration, while not as exaggerated as some fantastic tales, certainly lived up to the “extraordinary” in its name. The refined iron bolts were being squeezed out, bit by bit, by its powerful muscles, and the pinprick-sized wounds were healing at a visible rate. Even the gashes torn open by the Alchemical Dragon-Lizards had stopped bleeding. The greatest damage Itugos had suffered so far was the loss of all four eyes, but its fierce counterattacks were still deadly.

Itugos struck with its heads, fast as lightning—even faster than Victor’s draw. Any hit was a guaranteed kill on a Warhound or a Crouching Ox Militiaman. Seeing a militiaman bitten into three pieces made Victor’s heart pound. A dragon’s Dynamic Vision combined with Lightning Reflexes was indeed a surefire killing technique. He was lucky he had blinded all four of its eyes, otherwise, with two heads attacking in turn, none of the melee Alchemical militia would have escaped. But its Perception of 20 was not for show; almost every four attacks cost Victor one alchemical creature. Itugos’s tail was also a terrifying weapon. Although its Physique attribute couldn’t compare to the Alchemical Dragon-Lizards, its massive size gave it overwhelming strength. Its explosive power could only be measured in tons. A few tail strikes were enough to send the two Alchemical Dragon-Lizards biting its hind legs flying.

Still, the Alchemical Dragon-Lizards’ attack power did not disappoint Victor. They had broken both of Itugos’s front legs and torn more than a dozen deep, bone-visible wounds across its body. But Itugos’s fin-feet were larger than an Alchemical Dragon-Lizard’s entire body, and they firmly supported its mountain-like frame, preventing it from being toppled.

The excruciating pain drove Itugos into a frenzy. It seized an Alchemical Dragon-Lizard in its jaws, ripped it from its own neck, and with a sudden snap of its bloody maw, broke the creature in two. But with its dying breath, the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard had left a gaping, bloody hole in Itugos’s neck.

Flesh and blood flew, rain fell like blood, the bloody pool became a bloody marsh, and the bloody marsh became a bloody lake.

By this point in the bloody battle, Victor had lost eight Crouching Ox Militiamen, six Warhounds, and one Alchemical Dragon-Lizard. If they persisted, Itugos would undoubtedly die, but Victor was reaching his limit.

Each Alchemical Dragon-Lizard was worth fifty thousand Gold Sols and had nineteen years of life left. If he could capture Itugos intact, losing another two Dragon-Lizards wouldn’t matter. But Itugos was already mangled beyond recognition. How much could its hide be worth? As for its aberrant flesh, even Imosen wasn’t sure if it would be effective.

Without a prize, Victor lost the will to fight to the death. When he saw the crossbow bolts in Itugos’s eye sockets being squeezed out bit by bit, he couldn’t help but curse, “Holy shit, is this monster’s brain made of muscle too?” He raised his bow and loosed an arrow into the Aberrant Dragon-Lizard’s nostril, saving a Crouching Ox Militiaman. Then he gave the order to retreat. “Warhounds, hold it back! Everyone else, withdraw!”

A day later, back at the forward outpost, Imosen saw the blood-drenched hunting party return. Only four of the Marsh Dragon-Lizards had come back, and only twenty-one of the forty dire wolves remained. When he saw the lord’s dark expression, his knees went weak. He fell to the ground, crying, “My… my lord, this has nothing to do with me… I really can’t control Itugos.”

“It never had anything to do with you,” Victor snapped irritably, walking past Imosen toward the main building of the camp. He planned to summon the Alchemical auxiliary soldiers to see if they could create a ballista suitable for the swamp, but he knew the hope was slim. The Alchemical auxiliary soldiers lacked the ability to invent or create.

Imosen scrambled to follow, asking cautiously, “My lord, will you still let me settle in Laketon?” Victor stopped, patted the Wizard’s shoulder, and said, “You can go to Laketon once the job is done. Understand?”

“I understand, I understand.” Imosen gritted his teeth. “My lord, Itugos is massive and incredibly strong. You need a helper who can fight it. I can create an Aberration from a six-legged crocodile…”

“Fight it?!” Victor’s eyes gleamed as he asked thoughtfully, “How long would it take for the aberrant beast to grow to that size?”

“One year!” Imosen said. “My lord, I can wait until after you’ve dealt with Itugos to go to Laketon.”

“Forget one year; the Half-dragons can’t even wait one month,” Victor said with a smile, then his tone turned serious. “Imosen, you must remember this! Without my permission, you are absolutely forbidden from using Aberration Wizardry on your own. Otherwise, the Church won’t have to act; I’ll get rid of you first!”

A chill ran down Imosen’s spine. He trembled and said, “I will etch your warning into my memory.”

“Don’t overthink it. For now, go back to the mountain stronghold and train those Goblin servants.” Victor’s tone softened, and he smiled. “As for Itugos, I have my own way of dealing with it.”

The image of a figure of peerless grace and style appeared in Victor’s mind.

A Gold-rank monster required a Gold Knight to deal with it.

Chapter 305: Rose Slays the Dragon

The rainy season arrived as expected, and raindrops the size of beans fell from the sky, washing over all things in the world.

On the city wall blocking the southern entrance to the Great Marsh, only a few dozen experienced foremen patrolled in the rain. The rest of the hired laborers had returned to their homes to enjoy time with their families.

Lords typically did not summon the populace for heavy outdoor labor during the rainy and snowy seasons; these two months were a natural holiday. However, some people always had to bear the responsibility of patrolling and vigilance, especially when facing the threat of other races.

The terrain beyond the wall was open for over five hundred meters. A wooden outpost had been built there, garrisoned by several soldiers from the York family. They were all experienced scouts, specifically tasked with monitoring any movement in the Great Marsh.

Outside, the weather was freezing cold and the rain was coming down hard, but inside the outpost, it was warm and cozy. Several scouts were gathered around a brazier, talking and laughing. Just then, a young soldier pushed the door open, letting a gust of cold wind rush into the room, which earned him a chorus of curses. The young soldier paid no mind, casually closing the door and plopping down by the brazier with a grin. He sniffed loudly. “Smells good!”

“Daniel, it’s not time for your shift change yet.” The scout captain glanced at the young soldier but still ladled him a bowl of hot meat soup.

“Frio is keeping watch. He’s got the best eyes,” Daniel said with a giggle as he took the soup bowl.

“We can’t be careless. The last Ant-man invasion was also during the rainy season,” the scout captain said, putting down the ladle. “Finish up and go check on things. The firewood for the beacon tower can’t get wet.”

“Chief, don’t worry. We wrapped it in two layers of oilcloth. I guarantee it won’t get damp,” another scout chimed in. Daniel finished his soup, put down the bowl, and smacked his lips, still wanting more. “That hit the spot… The tail meat of a six-legged crocodile is just delicious.”

“There’s none left for you!” The scout captain shot Daniel a sideways glance. “This was the last of the six-legged crocodile meat. If you want more, you’ll have to wait for Jack and his men to come back.”

“We have Jack to thank for this treat,” Daniel said, tearing his eyes away from the soup pot and masking his desire with a dry laugh. “Next time, I’ll go with Jack to scout the Great Marsh. I feel bad always eating the game they hunt for free.”

This watchtower was not on the furthest scouting front. The York family had taken on the heavy responsibility of defending against the Ant-men, so the newly established House of Randell had volunteered to dispatch a scouting party deep into the Great Marsh to probe the enemy’s situation. Jack was the leader of the Randall family’s scouting party. He and his men were all Mountain folk who had been rescued by Lord Narsen. As such, they retained the taciturn nature of the Mountain folk, preferring to communicate with hand gestures or mimic animal calls while hunting. These men were quiet and of humble origins, so the York family’s scouts had initially looked down on them. However, they adhered to the Mountain folk tradition of mutual aid, always leaving some of their game for the outpost whenever they returned from a mission—and it was always rare swamp game. Over time, the two groups had developed a friendship, or at least that’s what the York family scouts believed. Jack and his men were just too silent.

“Even if you really wanted to go, Jack wouldn’t take you.” The scout captain poked the charcoal, and as the flames rose, he set down the tongs. “The first time Jack’s team went on a mission, fourteen men went, and seven came back. The second time, twelve went, and seven came back. The third time, eleven went, and eight came back. They haven’t lost a man since. And look at the game they bring back. First, it was mud shrimp and mud turtles, then capybaras and elk, and now it’s six-legged crocodiles and giant pythons… To be honest, none of us could keep up with them. We’d only be a burden.”

“The chief is right.” A lean scout nodded. “Jack and his men really are savages. I’ve never even seen them shed a tear when a companion dies…” The scout captain added, “Mountain folk warriors believe that hunting and being hunted are one and the same, not something worth crying over. They always lose people when opening up new hunting grounds. Once they’ve familiarized themselves with the environment and the habits of the beasts, the new hunting grounds belong to them.”

“Viscount Randell is really… Heh, he doesn’t even bat an eye sending Jack and his men to their deaths,” Daniel said with some indignation. The scout captain stared at him for a long while, until Daniel’s expression grew uneasy, before saying, “Good thing we’re all brothers here. If our master found out you were speaking ill of a viscount behind his back, you’d get a whipping for sure.”

Daniel recalled how Baroness Fynikos would smile radiantly at Viscount Randell, and he instantly shrank back, muttering, “We’re all brothers, all brothers…” The men burst into laughter, seizing the opportunity to get a round of drinks out of Daniel before letting him off the hook. The scout captain also smiled reservedly. “Jack and his men are good people, they just have a poor background. Some jobs just have to fall to them.” A sense of pride welled up in them, and they all nodded. “We are the York family, with a thousand-year legacy…” As they were laughing and talking, the frantic barking of a Satyr Hound and a whistle signaling an urgent need for aid suddenly came from outside.

“Go!” The scout captain snatched an Oilwood torch and charged out, the others lighting their own torches and following him. Outside, the rain roared like a tide. The captain shouted, “What’s going on?” Scout Frio spat out the whistle he held in his mouth and pointed not far away, yelling, “Jack’s back… alone!”

The scouts’ faces paled. Looking out, they saw a nimble figure walking towards them through the curtain of rain. The captain handed his torch to Frio and rushed out into the downpour alone. When he got closer, he saw that it was indeed Jack.

“Jack, where are the others?”

Jack shook off the hand gripping his shoulder and said flatly, “Ran into a monster. We got scattered.” The captain’s face turned white. He asked nervously, “Was it Ant-men?”

“No.” Jack shook his head. The captain breathed a sigh of relief, but Jack’s next words put him on high alert again.

“A two-headed big lizard, twenty meters long. Never seen anything like it.”

A two-headed big lizard? Could it be a Biological Aberration? The scout captain grew secretly excited and said in a grave voice, “Let’s get back to the outpost first.”

Before long, news of a suspected Biological Aberration in the Great Marsh reached the ears of Baroness Fynikos. That afternoon, Viscount Randell and Baroness Fynikos, led by the scout captain and Jack, went deep into the Great Marsh. They saw the monster with their own eyes.

And so, a Red-Eyed messenger crow flew to Goldwater City, carrying conclusive news.

Ten days later, Sylvia arrived with a group of people at the temporary hunting camp Nicole had built in the Great Marsh. Her first words to Victor were, “Is it still here?”

At that moment, a light rain had just cleared, the cold wind had ceased, and the sun cast several beams of light through the gaps in the clouds, plating the dark clouds with gold. Sylvia wore a suit of exquisite, delicate Mithril armor, her golden hair more dazzling than the sunlight, her pure azure eyes glittering. Victor knew that Sylvia’s eyes only shone like that when she was excited. And Sylvia was not the only one who was excited. The four Great Knights who had come with her—Viscount Jiris, Viscount Fredrick York, Baron Bruce, Nicole’s tutor Baroness Trisley—as well as the scholars Master Edwin and Tacitus, and Goldwater City’s resident priest, Father Conley, all gathered around Victor and Nicole, their ears pricked.

“It is!” Victor nodded. He then greeted his acquaintances one by one before pulling Sylvia aside and whispering, “My dear, why did you bring Master Edwin and Master Tacitus? This monster is very dangerous. What if something happens to them?”

The corner of Sylvia’s mouth lifted slightly. Before she could speak, Edwin stormed over, dragging Master Tacitus with him. “Victor, you rascal, I heard everything. A giant Biological Aberration is a once-in-a-century sight, and an aberrant Dragon-Lizard is simply unheard of. How could we possibly miss such a wonder?”

Victor smiled awkwardly. He hadn’t expected the old man’s hearing to be so sharp, but he didn’t know that Edwin was a master of lip-reading. Sylvia nodded in acknowledgment to Master Tacitus and introduced him to Victor, “Master Tacitus is a top-tier potionist who specializes in cultivating aberrant war beasts. With the master’s help, our efforts will be twice as effective.”

Master Edwin clamored, “Isn’t that the truth! The Aberrant Rat we caught last time couldn’t be used to cultivate a war beast. Tacitus even laughed at me for being unlearned, saying that the Aberrant Rat was malnourished…” Tacitus said reservedly, “A normal Aberrant Rat should be the size of a warhorse. The one you captured was only the size of a forest leopard, a clear sign of insufficient aberration. Furthermore, to find two Biological Aberrations in the same area… I’ve never heard of such a thing.” After a pause, he asked, “Your Excellency Randell, did you just suggest that all these high-rank Knights couldn’t protect the two of us old men? Is that monster really so powerful?”

“Victor and Nicole were both shocked by that monster.” The youthful-looking Great Knight Trisley walked over with her disciple. “Nicole, why don’t you give us an introduction.”

“Yes.” Nicole curtsied to Sylvia and the masters, her voice clear and sweet. “The monster was first discovered by Victor’s scout. It lives in the lake up ahead. We lured it out with blood food. It’s over twenty meters long from head to tail and about five meters tall, its size comparable to a Dragon. It has two Dragon-Lizard heads, four limbs, a pair of large ventral fins under its belly, and bone spurs on its back and tail. It looks clumsy, but it moves with astonishing speed…” Nicole said with lingering fear, “It’s even faster than me. Luckily, we prepared many wild boars beforehand, so I just needed to run faster than them.”

“That would explain it.” Tacitus pondered for a moment. “That Aberrant Rat was most likely hiding from the aberrant Dragon-Lizard and burrowed underground. You happened to pass by, and it couldn’t resist its desire to feed, so it emerged to attack you. Because it failed to consume enough flesh and blood, its aberration was insufficient, which is why it couldn’t be used to cultivate an aberrant war beast.”

Edwin’s eyes lit up, and he asked urgently, “Does that mean Biological Aberrations can sense each other’s presence?”

“That is the most logical explanation!”

“We’ve always thought Biological Aberrations were just bloodthirsty and mindless. To think they can sense their own kind… This is a new discovery! It requires further verification!”

“I’m afraid that will be difficult… The key is whether this discovery has any impact on aberrant war beasts… If…”

The two master scholars chattered endlessly, and Father Conley soon joined their discussion.

The entire conversation had gone off track.

Humans were accustomed to projecting their own concepts onto unknown phenomena. The more knowledgeable the experts and scholars, the harder it was for them to escape their established cognitive limitations. To put it bluntly, they couldn’t think outside the box.

Victor was secretly amused. Sylvia’s beautiful eyes shifted, and she asked, “Did you fight it?”

“Yes!” Victor nodded and said grimly, “This monster possesses the Dynamic Vision and Lightning Reflexes of a Marsh Dragon-Lizard, as well as high Elemental Resistance. Its regenerative ability is astounding. I blinded both its eyes, and they were fully healed in just half a day. My dear, you absolutely must not be careless…”

“You didn’t scare it off, did you?” Sylvia pinned up her hair, looking intently at Victor.

“Uhh… how could I?” Seeing Sylvia’s eager-to-fight expression, Victor was exasperated. For days, the alchemical militia had been tossing wild boars onto the shore. With a steady supply of blood food, Itugos had remained in the vicinity. Although Victor needed Sylvia’s power to eliminate this monster, he absolutely did not want anything to happen to her.

“The monster won’t leave the large lake up ahead for the time being. It’s not something that can be dealt with by the power of a Knight… Didn’t I ask you to prepare a few small ballistae?” Victor’s tone unwittingly became accusatory. Sylvia pouted her crystal-clear red lips and said, “It would take at least ten days to modify the ballistae. That’s too slow.”

“Aren’t we human ballistae?” Viscount Fredrick York interjected with a smile. In his hand, he held a two-point-four-meter-long refined iron spear as thick as a baby’s arm. “Within seventy meters, the power of a javelin thrown by us Earth Knights isn’t much weaker than a ballista. If Father Conley blesses us with divine arts, our effective range can be extended to one hundred meters.”

At this time, the three Earth Knights were each handling two identical refined iron spears, while several knights behind them held a large bundle. Clearly, the rate at which a Great Knight could throw spears far exceeded a ballista’s firing speed. Victor secretly regretted not having called on that fellow Narsen. His strength was sufficient, but his accuracy was likely no match for a Great Knight.

“I can blind the monster’s four eyes first, then you can hit its head with the iron spears. That way, it’ll be foolproof,” Victor said with a nod.

“Let’s have a look first,” Sylvia said, striding forward, the others following close behind.

The lake water was a dark green, emanating a bone-chilling cold. Staring at the quiet, deep surface of the lake, Sylvia asked casually, “Where is it?” Nicole waved her hand, and a hundred strong soldiers dragged wild boars to the lakeside. They first drove iron stakes into the ground, then tied the boars’ hind legs to the stakes. The forty-odd wild boars struggled and squealed but could not break free of their tethers. The soldiers poured pre-prepared bloodwater into the lake and then quickly retreated.

Before long, a huge shadow appeared on the lake’s surface. When it leaped out of the water, there was a tremendous crash, and waves cascaded like a waterfall down its spine, which was covered in bone spurs. The ferocious, savage beast appeared before them. The two master scholars, Edwin and Tacitus, instinctively leaned forward, wanting a closer look, but were held back by several knights.

Itugos spotted a great deal of prey on the shore and instinctively devoured the wild boar closest to it. Victor took out a shortbow and said, “Let me show you its Lightning Reflexes and Dynamic Vision.” As he spoke, he fired five arrows in quick succession. The ropes snapped, and the five freed wild boars immediately fled for their lives. The moving prey caught the beast’s attention. Its two Dragon-Lizard heads reared up and struck in a continuous assault. A series of deafening booms echoed in the air, and the five wild boars vanished.

The lightning-fast attack made even the Great Knights’ expressions turn grim. Trisley sighed and said to Sylvia, “I think Victor’s suggestion is very sound.”

Sylvia didn’t turn her head, asking flatly, “Master Tacitus, are this beast’s eyes valuable?”

Tacitus thought for a moment and said, “Well… Your honorable Highness, if what Viscount Randell says is true, this monster’s regenerative ability has far surpassed that of a Marsh Dragon-Lizard. A Dragon-Lizard’s eyeballs have always been the main ingredient for regeneration potions. As for whether its eyeballs can be used to concoct an Extraordinary Regeneration potion, I cannot be certain. But I sincerely implore you, do not take the risk!”

Sylvia stared at the feeding aberrant Dragon-Lizard and sighed, “A beast like this should have a name of its own.”

“Itugos.”

“Itugos?” Sylvia turned her head and gave Victor a radiant smile. “My dear, you were the first to discover this two-headed Dragon-Lizard. You have the right to name it.”

“Good! It shall be called Itugos, the Dragon Beast Itugos!”

“My dear, don’t take the risk. It’s not worth it…” Victor said gravely. He was just about to raise his bow to shoot out Itugos’s eyes but was stopped by Sylvia. “My dear Victor, you lack faith in me.” She then asked her close friend, “Trisley, how long do you think it would take me to hunt Itugos?”

Trisley said coolly, “It could bite you to death in the blink of an eye. And killing it wouldn’t take you too long either.”

“Indeed.” Sylvia nodded and said to everyone, “Itugos’s power is far beyond what a Knight can match. It possesses dragon-kin Dynamic Vision and Lightning Reflexes, as well as the gifts of Extraordinary Regeneration and Elemental Resistance. It seems unbeatable, but in truth, it’s less of a threat to a Knight than a Manticore. Its strength, though immense, is crude. Its attack speed is like lightning, but it lacks variation. Its weakness is practically on full display.”

“The void element can do more than just inflict heavy damage. Today, I will show you the correct way to use it!” Sylvia drew an Adamantine longsword. The blade was no wider than two fingers, thin as a cicada’s wing, and incomparably sharp. She turned and walked toward the two-headed Dragon-Lizard, her posture elegant, her figure graceful, as if she were strolling through a courtyard rather than marching off to slay a powerful enemy.

Seeing a tiny morsel of prey approach, Itugos opened its bloody maw and casually snapped down. With a light tap of her slender foot, Sylvia leaped onto the back of its neck. Her longsword slashed, and one of Itugos’s heads instantly flopped limp onto the muddy ground. But its other head unhesitatingly launched a lightning-fast bite. A clap of thunder echoed in the air as the terrifying lizard head became a blur, striking directly at the culprit who had harmed it. Even with Victor’s vision, he could only see a rough outline. In terms of absolute speed, Itugos’s attack had already surpassed his Apocalypse. However, Sylvia’s entire body flowed with a blue light, as if she had lost all weight. Like a blue willow catkin, she drifted upward on the violent air currents, weaving around Itugos’s neck. The next moment, her sword flashed like water, and Itugos’s mountain-like body collapsed with a deafening thud.

Sylvia stood on Itugos’s head, sword in hand, indescribably magnificent. The entire scene fell silent.

“Is it dead?” Master Edwin was the first to break the silence on the field, asking uncertainly. Although the giant beast’s body was no longer moving, its bloody eyes continued to blink open and shut, and its chest still rose and fell.

“It’s not dead. Its cervical vertebrae have been severed.” Victor let out a heavy breath. Sylvia’s clever use of the void wind element’s properties to overcome might with skill and speed with lightness, felling the enemy in two strikes, was admirable and awe-inspiring.

Itugos’s strength far surpassed that of a Gold Knight, but the toughness of its physique was still less than a Silver Ant-man’s. Sylvia had seen its weakness. Relying only on a Knight’s strength, she used a thin sword to slip through the gap between its neck bones and sever its spine, paralyzing it with casual ease. This was thanks to a Spirit Knight’s mental scan, a feat no one else could replicate, but her “avoid the strong and strike the weak” tactic had taught Victor a lesson.

Father Conley stepped forward to congratulate her. “Congratulations, Your Highness. May the epic tale of Your Highness slaying a dragon with two strokes be sung through history.”

Sylvia flicked her longsword and said with a smile, “It’s still a far cry from slaying a dragon, but Itugos’s head is worthy of a place in Rose Manor.”

“Your Highness, the Dragon Beast’s head should be hung on the gates of Black Fortress for all to admire.” Viscount Jiris, holding a greatsword, knelt on one knee and declared, “May I have the honor of taking Itugos’s head for you and preparing it as a trophy?”

“Viscount Jiris, please proceed.” Sylvia nodded her consent. Jiris followed the wound on Itugos’s neck and, raising his sword, severed its head. Blood gushed from the neck. The York family soldiers rushed forward, dipping their fingers in the blood and smearing it on their foreheads as a mark of honor. Master Tacitus also took a little blood, placing it in a crystal vial containing a clear potion and shaking it gently. The potion gradually turned a crystal-clear emerald green. Master Edwin exclaimed, “The Green of Life! The highest grade of the Green of Life!”

Tacitus, too, murmured excitedly, “An unheard-of draconic aberrant beast, an unheard-of Green of Life.”

“Master, what does this mean?” Sylvia asked.

“Congratulations, Your Highness. The York family will have its own aberrant war beast, and it is highly likely to possess a regeneration talent. Although it won’t match the regenerative effect of a Marsh Dragon-Lizard, it is certain to surpass the healing ability of other aberrant war beasts.” Tacitus stared at the crystal vial and said, “The color is so pure. I estimate it can be cultivated in twenty years at most, perhaps even less time. This is, after all, an unprecedented aberrant beast. I imagine the major royal families would be willing to spend a fortune to purchase Itugos’s flesh and blood from the York family.”

“You know that is impossible,” Trisley said coolly.

“I have misspoken.” Tacitus shook his head with a wry smile. Sylvia, however, said, “Master, I must ask for your help in selecting the base creature and designing the cultivation method. I will reward you handsomely.”

“It would be my honor.” Tacitus bowed solemnly. The York family’s knights were all beaming with joy; an aberrant war beast could secure a family’s prestige for hundreds of years. Sylvia walked up to Victor and said softly, “My dear, I will have the best master tanner customize a suit of Dragon-Lizard leather armor for you… I can’t give you Itugos’s flesh and blood, but I promise you, what the York family has, you will have.” At this moment, Sylvia’s face was flushed like a peach blossom, stunningly beautiful. She was clearly ecstatic.

“As long as you’re happy.”

Victor shrugged nonchalantly. A watered-down aberrant war beast couldn’t compare to an Alchemical Dragon-Lizard. Besides, he had Imosen, a national-treasure-level Wizard. He could even cultivate the original version of the giant aberration if he wanted. Sylvia’s eyes glittered as she bit her red lip. “My dear, I have something important to discuss with you. Let’s go to Silver Moon Manor first.”

“Very well.” Victor nodded and bowed to the others. “Your Excellencies, I will take my leave. I will host an evening banquet at Silver Moon Manor to celebrate your success.”

The crowd returned the gesture. Nicole wanted to follow, but Trisley grabbed her. Seeing Victor and Sylvia walk farther and farther away, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes at her tutor. Trisley gritted her teeth in anger and hissed in a low voice, “What are you thinking? A letter arrived from the Holy See. The Pontiff has specifically requested to visit the House of Randell.”

Chapter 306: The Clouds Part, the Moon Appears

“Why is the Pope coming?”

“The Pope isn’t the only one coming.” A lazy, enchanting voice drifted from the luxurious, comfortable bed in the middle of the bedroom. A pair of delicate, fair feet landed on the thick cashmere carpet, and long, slender, pale legs vanished into a gossamer nightdress. Sylvia took the silver cup from Victor’s hand, took a sip of fresh water, and curled up on the soft sofa. “The Centaur Hills water conservancy project is an unprecedented event,” she said, quite pleased with herself. “Both the Church and the Silver Spire want to be involved. The Church has offered us an interest-free loan of one million Gold Sol, which is the result of Clement’s hard work. He wants to leave a notable mark in the Church’s annals with this achievement. How could he not come?”

“Next year, during the Season of Fire, we’re planning to hold a military tournament. The invitations have already been sent out. Not only will Clement be there, but all the major families of the Spire Faction will also send core representatives to attend.”

Victor sat down on the sofa opposite Sylvia. “What I mean is,” he said helplessly, “why is His Holiness the Pope making a special visit to my fief?”

“What do you think?” Sylvia shot him a look, her tone exasperated. “Pello has been praising your public carriages to the high heavens. Under his pressure, we had no choice but to invest a great deal of money to imitate the public transport in Randell Fief and Bryat’s fief. But you have to understand, the Centaur Hills is far larger than Randell Fief and Bryat’s fief combined. Just purchasing the carriages cost us as much as thirty thousand Gold Sol. We’re losing money every day, and yet the Pope is coming to praise you.”

The realization dawned on Victor. A public transport network couldn’t be propped up by just a few carriages and a single route. To gradually change the public’s travel habits, one first needed a relatively complete transport system and public trust. The carriages had to travel to every village in the fief, follow fixed routes, and depart on schedule.

The investment in public transport was enormous, and the profits were slim. No freemen merchant could possibly build a transport network for an entire fief on their own. That was why Victor had implemented a business model akin to building a property first and then leasing it out, proposing that the lord should fund the initial construction and then encourage the people to purchase carriages and take on contracts for the routes. However, cultivating the public transport market was a gradual process. Before the populace grew accustomed to taking carriages, most of them were running with empty seats. The lords and freemen merchants were unwilling to run a losing business, so in response to the Church’s call, they had merely bought a few carriages as a token gesture to get by.

Although public transport made it easier for believers to go to the Church to pray, the Church could under no circumstances provide any form of financial subsidy to a lord or an individual. Otherwise, every lord would follow suit, and even the deepest coffers would be emptied. So, Bishop Pello had used the interest-free loan as leverage, forcing the York family to implement public transport, while the Pope would visit the House of Randell to show his support and encouragement for Victor.

Victor shook his head and sighed. “I wonder what benefits the Pope will bring me. An interest-free loan would be best.”

“In your dreams. There won’t be any tangible rewards,” Sylvia said, raising an eyebrow. She then added, “Are you that short on money? Randell Fief’s annual sales revenue from raw sugar alone must be at least fifty thousand Gold Sol, right?”

“Uh… about that.”

Randell Viscounty’s profitable businesses included pork, potions, oilcloth, copper-plated carriages, raw sugar, coffee, and Snow Sugar. Its annual fiscal revenue was about seventy thousand Gold Sol. After deducting the taxes paid to the Royal Family, the surplus was fifty thousand Gold Sol. In contrast, an ordinary marquess’s fief had a net income of only twenty to forty thousand Gold Sol per year. Victor’s methods for making money were enviable, but he had even more places to spend it.

Putting aside the costs of running the fief, building up the army, and expanding Quicksilver, Victor was preparing to use the vacuum in the development of public transport to construct a transport network from Randell Fief all the way to the Kingdom of Naville. The public carriages under his control already connected Randell Fief, Bryat’s fief, and the Chapman territory. His subordinates, disguised as freemen merchants, were currently negotiating with the priest in Baron Schultz’s fief. Before long, public transport in Schultz’s territory would also fall into Victor’s hands. He had already spent twenty thousand Gold Sol on this endeavor, but completing the plan was estimated to cost two hundred and fifty thousand, or perhaps much, much more.

The investment to control the transport network was huge, but it was well worth it.

The public transport business was a long-term investment that generated a slow but steady stream of income. With the Church’s protection, it was already a stable investment. Victor planned to gradually transfer ownership of some public carriages to local freemen through installment payments, thereby building close relationships with them. These coachmen could facilitate the transport of private goods, and they would also invisibly become Quicksilver’s covert operatives. Through their eyes and ears, Victor would have his finger on the pulse of the local flow of people and goods, and understand all matters, big and small. He could even create public opinion or spread rumors that favored him.

To invest a sum of recoupable funds in exchange for a latent force that served him, and one that was self-sustaining at that—public transport was an incredibly profitable venture. But this was not what Sylvia was focused on.

“My dear Victor, I hear you’ve been helping Bryat’s fief and the Chapman territory establish public transport.” A dangerous light glinted in her azure eyes as Sylvia spoke slowly and deliberately. “Since you’re so rich, why not help me? Am I less important in your heart than Judy and Gillian?”

“That’s definitely a rumor!” Victor declared with righteous indignation. “I bought the carriages purely to please Bishop Pello so he would agree to hold the Divine Notarization. In fact, I’m currently looking for freemen merchants to take over the public carriages.”

Sylvia looked unconvinced. Victor added, “My dear, investing in public transport is beneficial. Wildwillow City’s tax revenue has increased by ten percent over the past two months. I’m sure Goldwater City’s taxes have grown as well.”

“Goldwater City and Wildwillow City are becoming more prosperous by the day, so it’s only natural for tax revenue to increase. What does that have to do with public carriages?” Sylvia retorted peevishly.

Victor’s head instantly felt as big as a bushel basket. He really did not want to discuss with Sylvia how the flow of people, goods, capital, and information contributed to economic growth. A slight slip of the tongue, and this brilliant woman would see through his true intentions.

In that moment, silence was golden.

Sylvia didn’t press the issue. She changed the subject, asking, “You saw how I hunted Itugos. What would happen if your infantry phalanx encountered a similar colossal monster?”

Victor was somewhat displeased. “I already know the infantry phalanx isn’t practical. You don’t have to mock me.”

“The infantry phalanx is rigid and inflexible, unsuitable for real combat.” Sylvia smiled faintly and sat up straight. “But,” she said seriously, “it is profoundly significant!”

The Spirit Knight’s assessment made Victor’s eyes light up. “My dear, is that really how you see it?” he asked, pleasantly surprised. “Then what is its practical significance?”

“The infantry phalanx is strictly disciplined and has a powerful presence. It unites the soldiers and bolsters their courage. This is a great innovation.” Sylvia gave Victor a deep look and said admiringly, “Rock bricks, new farming and husbandry methods, water conservancy projects, and now the infantry phalanx… My dear, I truly don’t know how your head contains so many brilliant ideas.”

Victor frowned and asked, “Has the York family also drilled the infantry phalanx? But courage and unity that cannot taste victory are like a sandcastle—it collapses at the slightest touch. If it can’t handle the Ant-man tide, what’s the use of the infantry phalanx?”

“Why must the infantry phalanx collide with the Ant-man tide? A tactic is just a tactic. We will face different enemies, and the Ant-men are just one of the challenges. You created the infantry phalanx; have you not discovered its true value?” Without waiting for Victor to answer, Sylvia continued, “These are not the best of times, but the human kingdoms once had their glory. The first Pope overthrew the tyranny of the Chosen. The Knights and the Church signed the Radiant Code and inherited the city-states, fiefs, and populations left behind by the Chosen. After several hundred years of rest and recovery, the amount of fertile land occupied by the human kingdoms was more than ten times what it is now. The population exceeded five hundred million. The Church had an army of three hundred thousand, over three thousand Radiant Knights, and over a thousand high-ranking clergy, among whom were many Legendary-rank powerhouses. There were tens of thousands of Knight-Nobles, over four hundred Pinnacle Knights, and several dozen Legendary Knights. And yet, humanity suffered successive defeats in the wars against the other races. Our ancestors lost the Northern Wildlands and were squeezed into the barren south. What exactly was the reason for this?”

What was the reason? Of course it was the flaws in the system. But that answer touched upon the very foundation of the Church and was far too sensitive. Victor, unwilling to display an insight that surpassed his era, said, “The Church and the Knights were strong, and they occupied a great deal of land, so their forces were relatively dispersed. The Knight families in the heartlands held tightly to their own city-states, while the lords on the frontiers received no support, and their fiefs were crushed by the beastmen one by one.”

Sylvia nodded silently. “The kingdoms replaced the city-states. With the assistance of their vassals, the lords and the Church finally managed to stem the tide.”

“The Knights are now united under the banner of the kingdom, our vassals are our right and left hands, and the faith of the clergy has never wavered. Yet we are still unable to claim more territory.” After a pause, Sylvia sighed, “The Kingdom of Borea’s Seven Great Islands and our Centaur Hills are just lucky windfalls.”

“This is not because we are weak! It’s said that the Sasan Empire’s army and the Radiant Knights have already advanced one thousand kilometers into the Northern Wildlands. They’ve clashed with the Centaur tribes, with victories and losses on both sides, but they have never managed to build a fortress in the wildlands.”

“The Kingdom of Borea threw all its strength into expanding into the Southern Continent, clashing with the Barbarians for two years, only to fail when success was just within reach. If they had been able to build two Vanguard Fortresses to provide mutual support, they might have succeeded.”

“Every time a lord fights the other races, the cowardly refugees hide far away. Without enough manpower, you can’t build fortifications or perfect your supply lines. Even if we defeat our opponents, we can’t hold on to our gains!”

“The fact that the refugees are unreliable is the reason we’re finding it so hard to advance.” Sylvia gazed at Victor’s face and said seriously, “My love, you have shown me a different future!”

At this point, Sylvia’s intentions were crystal clear. Victor asked with a strange expression, “You plan to recruit soldiers from among the refugees?”

Sylvia pondered for a moment before speaking slowly. “The infantry phalanx emphasizes coordinated combat between infantry, cavalry, and archers. Its methods are simple, but it has its merits. But in my eyes, it is not just a tactic, but a rare training method. It doesn’t train physique or skill, but rather the soldiers’ courage, will, and solidarity. These are precisely the qualities that the refugees lack.”

“The phalanx trains an army, not an individual!”

“An incisive insight.” Sylvia stood up and performed a solemn and elegant Knight’s salute. She then added, “The most marvelous part is that after just a short period of drill, a disorganized mob of refugees can become a disciplined army. I don’t understand the mystery behind it, nor do I care, but I know they become brave, united, and honorable. Only people like that will fight alongside us to expand the realm.”

“Expand the realm?” Victor asked curiously. “The Centaur Hills is in a remote location. What land is there to conquer? Surely you don’t intend to meddle in the north? That is the Dodor Kingdom’s sphere of influence…” Sylvia shook her head and said, “The south bank of the Goldwater River.”

“Oh.”

“You’re not surprised at all?” Sylvia leaned in gracefully, her fresh, pleasant scent enveloping Victor. While enjoying his lover’s intimate nuzzling, he said lazily, “There’s nothing to be surprised about. We already have a foothold on the banks of the Goldwater River. The infantry phalanx can both train the army and clear out the Fishmen on the riverbanks. In another decade or so, the Centaur Hills will have the manpower, resources, and finances to support you in building a port. By then, you will lead a huge legion across the river to the south, build giant brick kilns, produce rock bricks, construct castles, and open up new territory.” He frowned. “The New Agro-husbandry was originally part of the grand legion strategy, but I only wanted to defend against the Ant-men, while you were already thinking about expansion.”

“My dear, this is all thanks to you. Your appearance has changed the future of my house. Your talent has captivated me. I am so proud of you.” Sylvia planted a sweet kiss on Victor’s lips and giggled. “Once the walls in the Great Marsh are built, the Ant-men will no longer be a threat to us. Even if they take a detour from the north, it’s the Dodor people who will have the headache. In fact, the Dodor Kingdom is currently surveying the gaps in the Larkspur Mountains. They are also preparing to build fortresses to defend against monsters.”

“That’s good,” Victor nodded, then teased, “In the future, I’ll have to address you as Her Majesty the Queen.”

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown, but I have the courage to bear it. This is my responsibility, and it is the meaning of my life.” Sylvia’s expression was solemn. In her eyes, Victor saw not just ambition, but also the responsibility of a leader and the pride of a Pinnacle Knight.

“Sylvia, I don’t want to discourage you, but things aren’t that simple.” Victor fell silent for a moment before saying, “An army created in a flash is strong on the outside but weak on the inside. Only battle-hardened veterans who have survived countless fights are truly elite. But have you ever thought, how could the Church possibly stand by and watch refugee soldiers suffer heavy casualties? The moment they intervene, military discipline will cease to exist. With a single call from on high, the army will change hands. They might not even allow us to recruit soldiers from the refugees in the first place…”

“Spiritual authority belongs to the Church; political authority belongs to the lord. On the matter of expansion, the Church never opposes the lords!” Sylvia held up her index and middle fingers. “Victor, please remember two principles. The soldiers must be volunteers, and the lord must never order his soldiers to their deaths.”

Different environments give rise to different political systems and corresponding military philosophies. In the eyes of ancient kings, soldiers and armies were just cold sets of data. As the saying goes, the merciful do not command troops; in great battles involving hundreds of thousands, sacrifice was inevitable. However, in this world, redeeming and protecting the common people was the clergy’s oath to the Lord of Radiance, and it was the bedrock that sustained their faith. The two principles Sylvia proposed were a manifestation of this protective philosophy.

Was an army that needed protecting still an army? And what use was an army that couldn’t fight tough battles?

This almost unsolvable contradiction was why Victor’s military reforms couldn’t continue. Sylvia’s confident demeanor left him speechless. He was stunned for a long moment before asking, “Then what will you have the refugee soldiers do?”

Sylvia said disdainfully, “Build fortifications, provide logistical support, open up farmland, repair military equipment, and assist the vassal soldiers in clearing out weak monsters. What else can they do? In short, I will not send them to their deaths.” She added, “In twenty years, the sons of the house’s vassals will become qualified elite soldiers. I was originally worried that the house wouldn’t have enough Knights, but with the aberrant war beasts, the situation is much better. With the refugee army handling logistical construction, the Fanged Legion can concentrate its efforts on assisting the Rose Knights to crush powerful enemies.”

“With New Agro-husbandry, rock bricks, aberrant war beasts, and auxiliary soldiers, I believe we will be able to gain a firm foothold on the Southern Continent!”

Supply troops? No, this was the rhythm for building a new base! And building new bases was what I do best…

Sylvia’s words were like a bolt of lightning in a dense fog, instantly illuminating the path for the House of Randell’s military development. Victor vaguely felt there was still a key point he hadn’t figured out. He asked tentatively, “A dual-army system? What will the Church’s reaction be to that? And how will you ensure the loyalty of the refugee auxiliary soldiers.”

“One elite, one mediocre. A dual-army system? Very good.” Sylvia nodded in satisfaction. “The Church will not only support it, they will also pass our experience on to other families. However, they don’t have rock bricks, so the dual-army system would be meaningless for them. As for ensuring the refugees’ loyalty…呵呵, nothing more than wealth and land. My dear, the infantry phalanx was your idea. You must help me perfect the system for the refugee army.”

“Let me think.” Victor fell into deep thought. The Church’s constraints were the biggest obstacle in building the House of Randell’s military system, yet Sylvia didn’t seem to care about this at all. The difference was that Sylvia trusted the Church, whereas Victor was wary of its interference. Tracing it back to its roots, it wasn’t hard to see that Knights and clergy had equal status and common interests. They compromised with each other and depended on one another. The foundation of their symbiotic coexistence was their respective extraordinary powers: the Elemental Sea and the Pool of Holy Power.

Victor controlled the Alchemy Tower, which was the foundation of his growth and power. However, the power of a single Alchemy Tower was far from that of the Elemental Sea and the Pool of Holy Power. Being weaker, he couldn’t blatantly assert his own interests. Like a big fish eating a small fish, and a small fish eating shrimp, Victor had been developing in secret all along.

The secret of the Alchemy Tower made Victor indecisive, prone to worrying about gains and losses. It made him overlook his own Bloodline and noble status, and he had subconsciously come to see the Church as an obstacle, causing him to act with his hands and feet tied. Once he thought through this connection, Victor realized that the Alchemy Tower was the Alchemy Tower, faith was faith, and political power was political power. He could absolutely coexist with the Church and use its power to develop the House of Randell’s military and education systems.

X-3 ran unceasingly. Sylvia stared intently at Victor’s handsome face. The active fire elements fascinated her, and the glorious vision stirred her emotions. Sylvia did not lack patience. If she weren’t worried that Victor would give up his research on the grand legion strategy, she would have preferred to stand by and do nothing. But at this moment, she only wanted to thank the Elemental Sea for sending Victor to her side.

Your bloodline, power, and wisdom are impeccable. Do not betray me, or I will have no choice but to destroy you.

A knock on the door startled Victor. He found Sylvia pressed against his chest with a smile playing on her lips. Just as he was about to sit up straight, Sylvia spoke. “Elina, you may come in.”

Elina pushed open the door to a sensual and intimate scene. The beautiful and bewitching Lady Sylvia, her face flushed red, was curled in Victor’s arms. She lowered her gaze and curtsied. “My Lady, My lord, the evening banquet is ready.”

Sylvia smiled bewitchingly and ordered, “Let them wait a little longer. Victor and I haven’t finished our discussion.”

Chapter 307: Preparations

Snowflakes rode the north wind, cloaking Laketon in a silver mantle.

“It was a fearsome two-headed dragon! Its heads were as large as huts, and it could swallow a whole cow in one bite!”

The Goat Tavern was bustling with noise as people crowded the great hall, fervently discussing the recent dragon-slaying incident. A well-informed man had become the center of attention, spitting as he spoke. Every thrilling detail of his tale drew gasps of amazement. Whenever he paused for dramatic effect, someone would treat him to a glass of warm Purple Cane wine. His animated expression finally drew the ire of a jealous onlooker.

“The dragon’s two heads were hung on the pillars in the square for half a day. How do you know it was the legendary two-headed dragon? I heard they were two Earth Dragons…”

“What do you know?” the well-informed man retorted, his eyes wide. “Can Earth Dragons have wings? I saw several sections of severed-and-packed membrane wings fall from a carriage with my own two eyes.”

“That’s right! I saw them too! They looked like the leathery membranes of a bat’s wings. They filled a whole carriage. Only a dragon could have wings like that, no doubt about it!”

“I’ve heard two-headed dragons are cruel and greedy. They burn towns, plunder all the treasure, and demand a pure maiden to eat every day. To think we were living so close to a dragon… Thankfully, it was killed. Praise be to the merciful Supreme Lord.”

“And thanks to our great Master, who summoned his Knights to slay the vile beast!”

“To Father Miller, and to Father Conley, cheers!”

“To our Master, and to the House of Randell, cheers!”

The crowd roared its approval, raising their cups. A young man asked excitedly, “Dragons all have names. What was the name of the evil dragon our Master killed?”

“Er,” the well-informed man let out a drunken burp, his face flushed. “Itus… Gotos? Anyway, it had two heads, and each head had its own name!”

“Right, right, right! The great dragon Itus, Gotos!”

“Itus, Gotos! Itus, Gotos!”

Cups slammed against tables, and the atmosphere in the tavern reached a fever pitch.

Itugos was not a Dragon, but its size was comparable to one. Transporting such a massive beast from the Great Marsh was no easy task, and processing aberrant flesh involved a complex and meticulous procedure. To be safe, Sylvia personally oversaw the operation from Silver Moon Manor. She dispatched twelve hundred Tusk Soldiers and over three hundred artisans and scholars. They first constructed a fortified camp near Itugos’s corpse, with two Great Knights standing guard. The priceless aberrant Dragon-Lizard was dismembered on-site, then transported in batches to Laketon for fine processing. The processed aberrant flesh was then escorted back to Goldwater City by two other Great Knights. The work had been ongoing for twenty-eight days and was still not finished.

Aberrant war beasts were crucial to the family’s future, and all of the York family’s knights and scholars were busy with the matter. The Church, naturally, would not miss such a prime opportunity to spread its doctrine and boost public morale. Itugos’s heads were publicly displayed in the Church square for half a day, thoroughly igniting the passions of Laketon. The people cheered and celebrated, spreading the tale with more joy than they showed during the harvest festival.

A harvest festival was just free food, drink, and some extra coin, but witnessing a dragon-slaying was a tale of glory one could boast about for a lifetime.

Under these circumstances, Itugos could only be a dragon; it had to be a dragon. As the story was passed from mouth to mouth, its heads inexplicably doubled in size, its bone spurs became dragon horns, and its ventral fins were mistaken for wings. Anyone who dared question the beast’s draconic identity was met with the ridicule and scorn of the public.

In truth, the tale of the dragon-slaying reinforced the narrative of protection, salvation, and devotion. It served to enhance the influence of the lord and the Church, as well as the people’s sense of belonging to the House of Randell. Victor naturally had no intention of clarifying the truth. While the populace celebrated, he and Master Edwin were testing a new weapon.

Thwump!

An Iron-oak target clad in refined steel armor shuddered. A guard went up to inspect the refined iron crossbow bolt that had pierced the wooden target and shouted, “One-hundred-meter range, direct hit on the armor, complete penetration!”

Victor relaxed his firing stance, a pitch-black military crossbow in his hand. He nodded in satisfaction. With his eyesight, he had already seen the result of the test; the guard was really calling it out for Master Edwin.

“See? I told you so. This foot-cocked crossbow, forged from Dragonbone Steel, has an effective range of two hundred and eighty meters and can penetrate standard-issue refined steel armor at one hundred meters. It has already exceeded your requirements,” Master Edwin said, brushing snowflakes from his cloak while grumbling, “Frankly, a foot-cocked crossbow is nothing new. Its rate of fire is slower than a standard crossbow, and its power and range are inferior to a military heavy crossbow…”

Victor carefully examined the new crossbow in his hands and said with a smile, “Its power isn’t that much weaker than a military heavy crossbow.”

Hearing this, Edwin’s mustache bristled as he cried, “That’s because of the Dragonbone Steel! This one foot-cocked crossbow used enough Dragonbone Steel to make four stronger military heavy crossbows. Victor, the manufacturing cost of a Dragonbone Steel foot-cocked crossbow is too high for it to be widely distributed. In fact, ever since the technology for the military heavy crossbow matured, the foot-cocked crossbow became obsolete.”

Sylvia’s proposal of a dual-army system had given Victor a profound understanding that the Radiant Church was a massive, strictly self-disciplined organization. They were two sides of the same coin as the feudal lords; as long as he did not cross the bottom line of the Radiant Code, the clergy would not interfere with the development of the House of Randell’s army.

With political concerns set aside, Victor ambitiously began to perfect his mercenary army. However, the world was home to a strange and wondrous variety of races, each with its own innate talents. Simply copying the military systems of ancient Earth would be out of place, yet Victor was unwilling to let his mercenary soldiers serve merely as auxiliaries.

Victor possessed the Alchemy Tower, top-tier soldier training methods, and a highly efficient system for production and construction. The Randell Fief’s war potential was astonishing. The mercenary army ought to play a greater role, including participating in high-intensity combat. In short, Victor wanted to forge a path different from the dual-army system.

Compared to the physically powerful other races, the greatest advantage of ordinary humans lay in their ability to construct fortifications and utilize fine weaponry and equipment. The basic strategy of the dual-army system was to build defenses while fighting, establishing a firm foothold before slowly encroaching on the enemy. Victor’s mercenary army would further expand upon this advantage. In his vision, the mercenary army would be adept at both offense and defense, capable of construction, and skilled in both mobile warfare and positional warfare. They would overwhelm weaker enemies in a single push and form defensive formations to protect themselves against stronger foes. To achieve this, in addition to the individual quality of the soldiers, military equipment was extremely important. For example, military wagons that could both transport supplies and quickly form a sturdy laager, small, assemblable ballistae, and various types of bows and crossbows.

With this equipment, a mercenary legion of one thousand men could move to advantageous terrain, use the wagon laager as a foundation to dig trenches, set up cheval de frise, fell timber to erect arrow towers, and build a sturdy fortress. Under the guidance of alchemical crows, elite commandos would first eliminate the enemy’s logistics personnel. If they encountered a powerful enemy, they would retreat to the fortress and repel the invaders with a dense volley of crossbow bolts, continuously weakening the enemy’s strength until they were completely routed.

Whether this tactic could succeed and how the details would be perfected could be discovered and resolved one by one through the Bear Company’s real combat experience, but the necessary preparations had to be made before the Bear Company set out.

To do a good job, one must first sharpen one’s tools.

With the York family’s artisans and scholars conveniently gathered in Laketon, Victor, with their help, first solved the design problems for military wagons and small ballistae. The alchemical auxiliary soldiers had already mastered the production methods for this special equipment. As soon as the corresponding materials were collected, the Bear Company’s alchemical auxiliaries could replicate the wagons and ballistae. Then, Victor took out the Dragonbone Steel given to him by Viscount Negus and asked Master Edwin to help design a new military crossbow, proposing two requirements: first, it must be able to pierce an ordinary Ogre’s Brute Hide Art at eighty meters. Second, the new military crossbow must not require a winch to span, and its parts must be detachable and replaceable.

The York family’s artisans produced two prototypes of the foot-cocked crossbow in just two days. Their performance and structure perfectly met the requirements. Victor was very satisfied with the foot-cocked crossbow, but Master Edwin kept insisting that this type of crossbow had been rendered obsolete by the military heavy crossbow.

The secret to the military heavy crossbow’s immense power lay in its materials. Its alloy arms, forged from Dragonbone Steel and hundred-times-refined steel, could withstand a draw weight of twelve hundred pounds, and only a string made from the sinew of a dire animal would not snap. A soldier had to use a winch to span it.

The Dragonbone Steel heavy crossbow had an effective range of three hundred and fifty meters (firing level) and could pierce refined iron armor at one hundred and fifty meters, making it the most powerful individual ranged weapon currently available. It was like a small ballista and could theoretically kill an Ogre. Of course, in practice, those monstrously resilient creatures were almost never killed outright by a military heavy crossbow. Even when grievously wounded, they could often continue fighting for some time.

An adult Ogre could cross a distance of one hundred and fifty meters in about ten seconds, while reloading a military heavy crossbow generally took forty seconds. Therefore, the mercenary army needed to be equipped with a military crossbow that had a higher rate of fire to precipitate a qualitative change through quantitative superiority. If a few bolts couldn’t kill a large monster, they would just shoot a few more until the creature was riddled like a pincushion.

With a draw weight of seven hundred pounds, a strong soldier could span the foot-cocked crossbow in just five seconds by stepping on the stock with one foot and drawing the string with both hands. Its power couldn’t match the winch-spanned heavy crossbow, but it was still sufficient to penetrate armor at one hundred meters. To achieve this rapid-fire capability, the artisans had to significantly increase the proportion of Dragonbone Steel in the alloy, thereby reducing the tension of the crossbow arms, and use spider silk for the string.

Spider silk was expensive, and Dragonbone Steel was a scarce resource that couldn’t simply be bought with money.

If it couldn’t be widely distributed, why reduce the crossbow’s power?

Edwin did not understand Victor’s thinking because he did not know that Victor had Thorium. Never mind a foot-cocked crossbow; Victor could even mass-produce twelve-hundred-pound winch-spanned crossbows. The highly elastic wood of yew and hibiscus could serve as crossbow arms, and sisal twine or ordinary ox tendon could be used for the string. In the face of Thorium, the Dodor Kingdom’s Dragonbone Steel was nothing to look at.

Victor just wanted the standardized design plan for the foot-cocked crossbow. Although it was not yet time to reveal his Thorium equipment, it was always good to prepare some weapon blueprints in advance, especially since the Randell Fief lacked its own research and development capabilities.

Victor shook his head and sighed, “Knights are always busy either making babies or training soldiers and honing their Aura. They don’t concern themselves with anything else… Sylvia created the dual-army system, but I’m the one who has to handle the specifics…”

Edwin stared blankly for a long moment, then said fiercely, “You’ve gone off-topic, boy!” Then, he couldn’t help but laugh. “But you’re not wrong at all! All the family’s affairs rely on us scholars. Look at you, you just move your lips, and I’m designing wagons for you, improving ballistae, and even digging up obsolete foot-cocked crossbows… Can’t you give this old man a break?”

“In future wars, logistics is king!” Victor continued. “Three thousand elites, ten thousand auxiliaries. Providing food, clothing, shelter, and transport for so many people is already difficult enough, let alone for combat. The production, transportation, and allocation of all kinds of materials will become extremely complex. A problem in any single link could lead to the collapse of the auxiliary troops, who lack a resolute will. Therefore, this is a huge test of the family’s logistical capabilities.”

“Fortunately, we can conduct all sorts of trials and simulations before the war begins. It doesn’t matter if we fail countless times, as long as we can find the optimal logistical plan. For example, this military crossbow…” Victor raised the weapon in his hand and said, “It may be obsolete, but it’s not without value. The winch-spanned heavy crossbow is powerful but has a complex structure, making it difficult to repair once damaged. This new crossbow, however, has a simple structure with interchangeable parts, and can even be repaired in the midst of battle, ensuring the army’s combat effectiveness remains intact. Now, we just need to improve its materials to obtain a new weapon that surpasses the standard crossbow in power, exceeds the winch-spanned crossbow in rate of fire, and can be used by all refugee auxiliary soldiers.”

“It is not an obsolete foot-cocked crossbow. It is born for the wars of the future. It should be called the Standard Battle Crossbow.”

Master Edwin pondered for a long time before murmuring, “Is this the ‘standardization’ you’re always talking about?”

Victor nodded. “Standardization is the most important principle of future logistics. It not only increases production efficiency and reduces production and transportation costs, but it also enhances the combat effectiveness of the auxiliary army. Elite soldiers have trained in martial arts since childhood; their skills are exquisite, and they can expertly wield various weapons. But the refugee auxiliaries cannot. Their training time is too short. A spear being slightly longer or shorter can affect their performance. If they switch to a different crossbow, they might not even be able to aim properly. Therefore, standardized weapons are very important for refugee auxiliaries. Moreover, legions can replenish each other’s standardized military supplies.”

Master Edwin looked at Victor for a long while before sighing, “Victor, if I didn’t know you, I would have thought you were the secret student of some great master.”

An idea sparked in Victor’s mind, and he said humbly, “Master, I am still far from that. In fact, I have always admired the Silver Spire and have longed to study there.”

A smile bloomed on Edwin’s old face, but he shook his head with regret. “Unfortunately, a lord cannot leave his fief for long periods. I’m afraid you won’t have the chance to study at the Spire.”

“Knowledge is wealth, power, and the jewel in the crown. The Spire is the place where wealth, power, and jewels are kept. The motto of Grand Vizier Marquess Bastern has always inspired the children of the court nobility, myself included.” Victor bowed solemnly. “Master Edwin, as the lord of the House of Randell, I cannot go to the Spire to study. Nevertheless, I still implore you to write a letter of recommendation for the House of Randell. I will dispatch family members to the Spire to study history, Potion-making, and Forging.”

“Of course!” Edwin nodded. “However, the tuition at the Spire is not cheap. For each subject, you must pay the Spire two thousand Gold Sol per year. Lecture fees are extra, and different scholars have different rates, but for three subjects, you can expect an average of ten thousand Gold Sol in tuition fees per year. To learn advanced potion recipes like the Vigor Potion, it would take at least seven years.”

“That… That’s too expensive!”

Master Edwin said gravely, “Child, knowledge is a legacy of wealth, which is why the Silver Spire is both lofty and costly.”

Chapter 308: Seeking an Education

The “height” and “cost” of the Silver Spire were universally acknowledged facts.

Legend had it that the one-hundred-and-twenty-meter-tall stone tower bore no a trace of masonry, as if it were a single, monolithic structure, something beyond human construction. Wizards once looked down upon the world from its peak, and the first Pope, Inoc, assassinated a Chosen there, launching the Radiant Church onto the stage of history. The collection of books and research成果 of the Spire’s Wizards gave rise to the Church’s Ivory Sanctum. The Spire itself was preserved as a medal of honor for Pope Inoc, and it now served as the most prestigious institution of higher learning for the nobility.

As ordinary nobles completed their studies and played greater roles in their family affairs, their status rose and the power they wielded grew. The Silver Spire’s influence increased by the day, and it gradually evolved into a neutral political organization. Over seven hundred years ago, the Radiant Knights suddenly broke the rules of the game and assassinated the Emperor of the Randt Empire. The great lords, each fearing for their own safety, formed a loose alliance with the conservative faction of the Church, coordinated by their family scholars, to counterbalance the influence of the Paladin-led families. The Spire Faction was born of this necessity.

To this day, the Silver Spire has become an academic club controlled by the great nobles and great scholars, its entrance requirements staggeringly high.

Tuition for a single subject at the Silver Spire cost two thousand Gold Sol, with an auditing fee of one thousand Gold Sol. If a noble scion were to study three subjects simultaneously, their family would have to pay ten thousand Gold Sol for him each year. The little Baron’s father possessed a fief, and his annual net income was less than fifteen hundred Gold Sol. Without its raw sugar, the Randell Fief’s annual fiscal revenue would not exceed twenty thousand Gold Sol. Therefore, the Silver Spire’s tuition was, in reality, a steep entrance fee designed specifically to exclude small, declining families.

However, money alone was not enough!

For a noble’s child to study at the Spire, they first needed a letter of recommendation from a Spire Scholar. This meant that any noble wishing to join the Spire’s circle had to first align themselves with a major power. In the Kingdom of Gambia, the Auguste, York, Wellington, Joshua, Nim, and Sorim families were such powers.

Sylvia had once told Victor: a lord who doesn’t choose a faction will find it impossible to move forward! This was no empty threat.

The thousand-year-old houses had remained standing by being inclusive and adaptable. Marquess Golan had originally been the old King’s retainer knight, but upon reaching the pinnacle of his field, he immediately became the leader of the Auguste family, his children even gaining rights to the throne’s succession. The old Duke York had been willing to sever his eldest grandson’s path as a Knight just to place Sylvia on the family’s metaphorical throne. Even Sylvia had to respectfully call Master Edwin “Uncle” when she saw him. Sylvia’s special consideration for Sophia and her immense tolerance for Victor were all for the long-term benefit of her family.

However, attracting talent could not be achieved through gentle means alone. The major powers had to monopolize wealth and resources, control the narrative, and suppress and marginalize those families that remained aloof, lest powerful competitors arise.

Either be dismantled or join. As long as you had the ability, you could lead the entire faction!

The House of Randell’s foundation was still shallow, not yet a true family, but Victor’s ancient bloodline was comparable to that of a Gold Knight. In the eyes of the York family, Victor was a core member. Master Edwin would naturally not refuse the House of Randell’s request for education, especially since he owed Victor a great favor.

The Silver Spire’s tuition was no small burden for Victor, but in order to perfect the House of Randell’s education and research system, this was an investment he could not afford to skimp on.

The question now was, who to send?

The Silver Spire not only imparted precious knowledge but was also a highly influential political organization. Scholars accumulated connections while they studied, befriending the elite scions of other families. The major powers also used the Spire to reach tacit agreements, exchange intelligence, and trade resources. It was the Silver Spire that had arranged for the Gold Knight Andre to pursue Princess Royal Roland at Marquess Golan’s request. Although Andre failed to win Roland’s heart, the fact that the Silver Spire could persuade a Gold Knight to consider marrying into the Gambis Royal Family was proof enough of its influence in high society.

And throughout its history, the Silver Spire had only ever accepted the children of nobles.

Besides Victor himself, only the sisters Lilia and Elina, and the couple Narsen and Linda, possessed noble status in the House of Randell, and none of them could possibly leave the Fief. Victor turned his attention to his young attendants. After some consideration, he chose Paul and Maelyn.

Paul was thirteen and Maelyn was twelve. Though young, they were more mature and prudent than the other attendants because they were both little spies meticulously trained by Barol. Paul was the most outstanding among them, considered by Barol to be his successor. Since Barol had left on assignment, Victor had arranged for all the young spies to live in Silver Moon Manor and receive attendant education from Elina. Their demeanor and etiquette were no different from those of noble children. As for their origins, Victor had already made arrangements: they would go to the Spire to study under the identity of Lord Narsen’s adopted son and daughter.

“Are you getting used to living at Lord Narsen’s home?”

In the study of the Laketon castle, Victor smiled as he looked at the two young spies. Paul had delicate features, a handsome face, and a refined air. Dressed in a well-fitting white flax shirt, he looked every bit the charming young man. Maelyn had blonde hair and blue eyes, her features as picturesque as a painting. Her fair, tender face still had a trace of baby fat, but her well-proportioned figure was already beginning to show curves. The youthful, beautiful girl was like a budding flower, utterly endearing. Their exceptional looks were the main reason Victor had chosen them.

Nobles were creatures who judged by appearances, and the scholars of the Silver Spire were no exception.

Paul took a step forward and bowed. “My lord, my parents are very good to us.”

“Are they?” Victor said with a faint smile. Paul’s face flushed in embarrassment, and he said with a wry smile, “Father would certainly be happier if I had Beldina’s appetite… He thinks I’m too thin and makes me eat double portions every day…”

Beldina was famously known for her appetite; everyone agreed the little girl had the stomach of a Dragon. Narsen was also a big eater, especially after practicing the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form. He ate an entire sheep every day. In his view, a real man had to be a big eater, which was a great trial for Paul, who specialized in the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form. Victor glanced sympathetically at Paul before turning his gaze to the young girl who was covering her mouth and giggling. “And you, Maelyn?”

“Our parents take very good care of us.” The girl curtsied, lifting the hem of her skirt. She stole a glance at Victor, two crimson clouds blooming on her pretty little face, and said in a small voice, “Mother made Paul’s and my clothes with her own hands.”

In this world, a year had 576 days, and ordinary people could marry and have children at the age of fifteen. Maelyn was twelve this year, the age when a girl’s heart first stirs. The way she looked at Victor was just like Lilia back then, her bright eyes filled with an unconcealable shyness.

Four years had passed. The pioneers who had followed Victor were now in their prime, while a new generation had quietly grown up. They received attendant education and were more capable, loyal, and reliable than their parents’ generation. These hundred or so young attendants and spies would all become Victor’s right and left hands, helping him strengthen the House of Randell, and they would also have their own aspirations. As their lord, Victor had to strive for more benefits for his subjects.

The development of a family was like rowing a boat upstream; if you don’t advance, you fall behind.

“My Lady Linda’s tailoring skills are a family inheritance. You can learn more from her when you have the time. But that will have to wait until you return from your studies at the Spire.” Victor collected his thoughts, took out two parchment scrolls, and said, “These are letters of recommendation personally written by Master Edwin… Do you know what they mean for you?”

Paul and Maelyn glanced at each other. “I… I’m not sure. My lord, we will follow your instructions.”

“With these letters, the gates of the Silver Spire are open to you, and so are the gates of high society.” Victor tossed the parchments to them and said, “If you earn the title of Scholar from the Spire, I will grant you a manor of five thousand mu and bestow upon you the lordship of the House of Randell.”

It took a full three generations of effort for a subject to become a vassal, and even then, the lord had to decide whether to grant them the investiture based on the territory’s actual situation. To go from vassal to noble was not something that could be achieved through hard work and loyalty alone; it required merit, cunning, and good fortune. The letters in Paul and Maelyn’s hands could allow a vassal family to ascend to the heavens in a single step. Although they had both received training as spies and attendants, they were still young and lacked a sufficient understanding of destiny and opportunity. Their secret delight was simply because they felt valued and specially favored by their master. Paul clutched the parchment scroll and bowed. “My lord, what is our mission?”

Victor was taken aback for a moment, then understood what the little spy meant. He couldn’t help but laugh. “Study hard and get better every day.”

“Get better every day? My lord, do you mean we should climb the high tower every day?” Maelyn asked weakly.

“Er… forget I said that.” Victor coughed dryly and instructed, “The situation at the Silver Spire is convoluted. Don’t think about gathering intelligence or developing secret agents. Your mission from me is to study diligently and strive to become scholars. Paul, you will study History and Forging. Maelyn, you will specialize in Potion-making.”

“As you command, my lord!” the boy and girl replied in unison.

Victor nodded. “The adopted children of a lord going to study at the Spire will inevitably be ostracized and discriminated against by other noble scions. However, you have Master Edwin’s endorsement, so I doubt you will encounter too much trouble. Focus on your studies, don’t get involved in any messy business, and above all, do not let yourselves be used.”

The so-called “messy business” referred to interpersonal dealings among fellow students. Noble children went to the Spire for further education not only to improve their knowledge but also to meet members of other families and expand their own networks. Otherwise, they could just as well be educated by their family scholars.

Politicization had thinned the academic atmosphere at the Silver Spire, with scholars focusing their research on strategy and diplomacy. For the past two hundred years, the Silver Spire had produced almost no noteworthy academic achievements in subjects related to the people’s livelihood, while the Ivory Sanctum was constantly innovating. In light of this, a portion of the Spire Scholars believed they should collect and organize the skills of the refugees, using them as subjects of research to find a breakthrough. Master Edwin and Master Tacitus were representative figures among them, but they were always constrained by their family ties. The Spire remained the Spire that the major powers needed—a stage where the dramas of alliances, political marriages, betrayals, assassinations, and murders were performed in succession, without ever stopping.

The House of Randell’s development strategy was bottom-up, focusing on the vast lower strata of society. Victor had no interest in the social interactions between nobles. He was sending Paul and Maelyn to the Spire primarily to learn useful knowledge and perfect the Randell family’s education and research system. Although Victor could call upon the craftsmen and scholars of the York family, they were not his own people, and it was always inconvenient to use them.

On the other hand, the Silver Spire was a Wizard Tower left behind by a Chosen. Its system of knowledge originated from the Church’s Ivory Sanctum, which in turn had inherited the research of the Wizards. The Chosen’s knowledge of magical potions had evolved into Potion-making, and its effects made Victor particularly envious.

Master Tacitus had used the eyeball of Itugos to concoct two bottles of Extraordinary Regeneration potion. It was said that this extraordinary potion, when combined with a priest’s divine arts, could make a person regrow a severed limb. The value of cleansing potions and purifying waters was self-evident, while berserk potions and body-tempering potions were important means of enhancing a soldier’s combat effectiveness. Victor was developing the mountains and the Great Marsh, which contained countless rare medicinal herbs. What he lacked were the formulas and the theoretical knowledge of Potion-making.

The difference between selling raw materials and deep-processing them was like the difference between heaven and earth.

Moreover, Victor was extremely interested in the origin of the Chosen. According to the Alchemical auxiliary soldier, Busuo, Wizards were called Mages in the Alchemical Empire, and their social status was second only to Alchemists. Therefore, Victor had reason to suspect that the Silver Spire was an Alchemy Tower. Even if the Radiant Church had covered up the truth of history, the knowledge of the Chosen had been passed down. By comparing the original potion formulas of the Silver Spire with the formulas known by the Alchemical auxiliary soldier, he could verify whether the Chosen were indeed Mages from the Alchemical Empire.

If the Silver Spire really was an Alchemy Tower, Victor would have to get its Law Crystal no matter what. He was currently desperate to repair the memory upload function of Alchemy Tower No. 7.

The Tower Spirit King once said that the most powerful alchemical creatures were based on a human template because Alchemical humans had the ability to learn. At first, Victor hadn’t paid this much mind. Alchemical humans had a lifespan of only fifteen years; any skills they learned would eventually be erased anyway. He had overlooked a fundamental fact: the Alchemy Tower and its alchemical creatures were a single entity. This meant that the Alchemy Tower itself had the ability to learn!

The skills of Alchemical humans were divided into two main categories. The first was the basic category, including gathering, forging, and construction. The second was the auxiliary category, including Long Weapon Proficiency, Short Weapon Proficiency, Ranged Weapon Proficiency, Shield Mastery, and the three great Mystic Forms. The Mystic Forms were not a built-in skill of Alchemy Tower No. 7; the King had extracted Victor’s memories to create the Crouching Ox Militiaman and the Lithe Ape militiaman. Victor knew full well how difficult it was to cultivate the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form, yet every Crouching Ox Militiaman was born with it and had mastered it proficiently.

However, the hardest thing to learn was not the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form, but The Throat-slitter’s Vibrating Secret Art. Currently, only Narsen had mastered this powerful battle technique, and his strength had skyrocketed as a result, putting him on par with a Great Knight. Narsen was now trying to fuse the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form, the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form, and the Vibrating Battle Technique to create a brand-new secret art.

Victor was both expectant and frustrated by Narsen’s efforts. The Alchemical militia hadn’t even learned the Vibrating Battle Technique yet, so what good would a new secret art be? By the time they mastered it, they would likely be near death. Victor had complained about this to the King, who told him that as long as the Alchemy Tower’s memory upload function was repaired, it could erase the useless memories of Alchemical humans, extract the useful skills, and load them into newly created ones.

What the Alchemical humans learned, the Alchemy Tower learned. What the Alchemy Tower mastered, the Alchemical humans mastered.

Victor had been blown away at the time. If Reno cultivated the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form to its highest level, the Alchemy Tower’s Ox-Subduing Mystic Form would gain a “Proficient” prefix. If Jack learned the Vibrating Battle Technique, the Alchemy Tower would generate a brand-new skill. If Busuo mastered the formula for the Extraordinary Regeneration potion, all Alchemical humans loaded with the gathering skill would become master-level Potion-makers.

The alchemical creatures and Alchemy Tower No. 7 shared the same origin of Soul Fire. They were one and the same. Therefore, the Alchemy Tower was essentially an Alchemical lifeform itself—a growing Alchemical lifeform! All that was missing now was a Law Crystal.

Victor picked up the bell on his desk and shook it lightly. Two strong and agile guards walked in. “Barkley, Manuel. Like Shak, they are my Elite Guards. From now on, they will serve as your personal guards.”

Paul and Maelyn’s expressions immediately turned respectful. Barol also had four Elite Guards by his side. As Barol’s disciples, they knew just how formidable the family’s Elite Guards were.

“Barkley and Manuel are responsible for protecting you, even at the cost of their own lives.” Victor paused, then added, “The Silver Spire not only houses knowledge but also many secrets and conspiracies. You are to speak little, listen much, and observe much. If you discover anything strange or unusual, you must inform your guards. They will contact me. Do you understand?”

“Understood!”

A grim smile appeared on Victor’s face. “If anyone gets any funny ideas about you… remember, the House of Randell will not be coerced by anyone!”

Chapter 309: The Grand Duke’s Doubts

In the final month of Radiant Year 7568, the rumor of the two-headed evil dragon Itugos swept through Blinor City like a storm, and the storm’s epicenter was none other than the Centaur Hills on the kingdom’s western border.

On the streets and alleyways of the Royal Capital of Gambis, in the salons and balls hosted by the nobility, and in the small taverns where commoners gathered, the most talked-about topic was undoubtedly the dragon-slaying feat of the York family’s high-ranked knights, together with the clergy of the Church. In the process, the story of the York family annihilating the Ant-man army and defending their Pioneer Fief was also dredged up.

With a push from certain interested parties, the Centaur Hills had been painted as a peaceful, fertile land of plenty. The refugees who were struggling to get by grew restless, wanting to try their luck in the Centaur Hills and see if they could become subjects of the York family.

Of course, this news was secretly spread by agents of the Royal Family. The sheer number of refugees was overwhelming Blinor City, and the lords in the court were eager to divert the excess population. Riding on the coattails of the York family’s dragon-slaying fame, it was the perfect opportunity to guide the refugees in a westward migration.

Regent Williams felt no joy or encouragement from this. In fact, he knew from the very beginning that the “Itugos” slain by Sylvia’s own hand was a rare aberrant Dragon-Lizard. The York family’s procurement list was sitting on his desk right now, filled with the rare medicinal herbs required to cultivate aberrant war beasts.

This list made Williams uneasy. As the vice-commander of the Swift Dragon Knights, he knew exactly what an aberrant war beast meant for a family.

Aberrant war beasts were comparable to large dire animals. Their strength, speed, and physique surpassed those of a Knight. Their weakness was their low intelligence, as they fought purely on instinct. However, while a Knight might be able to kill one aberrant war beast, not every noble could become a Knight, and the Royal Family did not produce a Gold Knight in every generation. In contrast, a relatively stable number of aberrant war beasts could be maintained each year, and if a family was wealthy enough, they could even expand the size of their war beast forces.

When Gambis was founded, the Auguste family had no Pinnacle Knights, but their more than four hundred ferocious Swift Dragons were enough to make any power take notice.

If a castle was a family’s shield, then aberrant war beasts were the sharp sword that deterred rivals. They were a strategic force, enough to support an entire kingdom.

Unfortunately, biological aberrations were rare and difficult to find, and the vast majority of families had no aberrant war beasts.

Currently, the five great aberrant war beasts renowned throughout the world were the Radiant Knights and the Sasan Imperial Family’s Horned Wolves, the Randt Empire and Dodor’s unicorns, the Baselius family’s griffins, Naville’s Sword Mantises, and Gambis’s Swift Dragons. In the future, perhaps the York family’s aberrant war beasts would be added to that list.

As he thought of this, Williams grew increasingly agitated. He left his seat and walked to the window, gazing out at the last of the snow blanketing Aerie Fortress. Seeing that Williams had no intention of signing, an old man in the ceremonial robes of a marquis reminded him in a low voice, “Your Highness, Viscount Aubella York is waiting for my reply.”

With his hands behind his back, Williams sighed. “Lord Bastoen, if we were to grant Archbishop Lazarus’s request and vigorously promote the public carriages, would His Holiness the Pope cancel his trip to the Centaur Hills?”

This old man was Marquess Bastern, the Grand Vizier of Gambis. He had served the Auguste family for a full sixty-five years and was known for his steady wisdom. The old marquess was well aware of Grand Duke Williams’s worries.

For the York family to develop the Centaur Hills, they needed not only a vast number of refugee laborers but also the addition of Knights. In the coming Season of Wind, Pope Clement would personally come to Blinor City for Prince Edward’s coronation. Before that, however, he was scheduled to travel to the Centaur Hills to attend the York family’s grand military tournament. By convention, a new king’s ascension was always accompanied by a military tournament, but the York family had deliberately scheduled theirs right before the coronation ceremony. This meant that the knights recruited by the Auguste family would be the leftovers from the Yorks’ selection, and the Pope’s personal attendance would lend immense prestige to the York family’s tournament. The York family had managed to one-up the Gambis Royal Family.

Sylvia had every reason to do so. The popularization of New Agro-husbandry and the mouldboard plow had led lords to anticipate an increase in grain yields, so they all began selling their stored grain, causing prices to rise instead of fall. The York family did not complain. Instead, they reminded the lords everywhere to plant less, fertilize diligently, and take care to preserve the fertility of their farmlands.

New Agro-husbandry was an invention of the York family to begin with, and Sylvia’s magnanimous and grand actions won the hearts of many. All the lords, including those in the Sasan Empire, benefited from it and owed Sylvia a favor. New Agro-husbandry was vital to the people’s livelihood and was of great significance, so the Church had to commend the York family for it. Under the a宣传 of the clergy, nobles great and small throughout the human kingdoms learned of New Agro-husbandry and the water projects, and that a hundred million mu of farmland was about to be reclaimed in the Centaur Hills. The York family’s military tournament became a highly anticipated spectacle. The second sons and daughters of smaller families were all rubbing their hands in eagerness, wanting to travel to the Centaur Hills to participate in the tournament and secure a future for themselves. Prince Edward’s coronation, by contrast, was now basking in the York family’s reflected glory. Although Grand Duke Williams was dissatisfied, he had little to complain about. But the York family hunting a rare aberrant Dragon-Lizard was another matter entirely.

The York family was performing too well—so well that they were becoming intimidating. Once they possessed aberrant war beasts, the rise of the Centaur Hills would be unstoppable.

Grand Duke Williams worried for the future of the Royal Family, and he had yet to respond to the procurement list submitted by the York family. Grand Vizier Marquess Bastern had to personally meet with Williams to urge him to sign the procurement list as soon as possible.

The list detailed over twenty obscure medicinal ingredients, all related to aberrant war beasts, which indicated that the York family had already mastered the method of raising them. If the Auguste family had a complete monopoly on these ingredients, Marquess Bastern would have certainly done everything in his power to obstruct the Yorks’ procurement plan. However, both the Kingdom of Sus and the Kingdom of Naville had their own reserves of these herbs. The Sus Royal Family dreamed of obtaining the flesh and blood of a biological aberration, while the Kingdom of Naville was counting on Master Edwin to help them design mountain reservoirs. Therefore, neither of the two royal families would have any qualms about making a deal with the York family.

This list was, in fact, a test of the Royal Family from the York family.

At this time of political transition in Gambis, Marquess Bastern did not want the internal balance to be broken. Compared to Sylvia’s generosity with the New Agro-husbandry technology, if Aerie Fortress appeared too petty in this matter, it would instead send a signal of weakness to the various lords.

“Your Highness, our grain harvest this year has increased by forty percent compared to previous years, and the annual tribute paid by the lords has also risen. Next year’s grain output will decline somewhat, but the seed investment will be more than halved. This is all thanks to the mouldboard plow and New Agro-husbandry invented by the York family.”

Marquess Bastern did not answer the question directly, which did not surprise Williams in the slightest. The old marquess was a humble and rule-abiding man who always insisted on his views in a tactful manner. Williams smiled helplessly, returned to his seat, and picked up the procurement list again. The Grand Vizier continued, “We have built over 100 stream reservoirs in the northern prefectures, increasing our arable land by over 400,000 mu. Next year, we will build another 200 stream reservoirs… Marquess Ludwig is ambitious; he wants to build a man-made channel connecting the Blinor River and the Quinn River. The Minister of Internal Affairs’ proposal is already on my desk. Once the canal is completed, it can irrigate six million mu of farmland.”

“All thanks to the York family for inventing water projects,” Williams said, his mood lightening considerably. He smiled, “I’m afraid Lord Leopold won’t be pleased.”

“The budget is indeed a bit high…” Bastern nodded. “This man-made channel is 556 kilometers long and is expected to cost eight hundred thousand Gold Sol. The Minister of Finance has indicated that he wishes to reserve his opinion.”

Williams frowned. “I heard the canal built by the York family is over 1,000 kilometers long and can irrigate a hundred million mu of farmland. How come our canal can only irrigate six million mu?”

“It’s not the same. The main canal built by the York family is only one part of their water project. They also plan to build five hundred stream reservoirs, a ring canal, and hundreds of auxiliary canals, which will eventually form a water network covering the entire Centaur Hills. Moreover, their water is drawn from the Goldwater River, which has an abundant flow that the Blinor River cannot compare to.” Marquess Bastern said with a sigh, “Edwen has already clearly proposed the concepts of Topographical Surveying and Project Management. According to him, the main canal in the Centaur Hills is just the first phase of the project; there will be a second and third phase. The entire water project will take twenty-five years to complete, and this process will not affect the farmers’ ability to cultivate the land.”

“Of course, the Five Prefectures Canal proposed by the Minister of Internal Affairs, Marquess Ludwig, is also a first-phase project. The water project he has designed can irrigate a total of twenty million mu of farmland.”

“And how much will that cost?” Williams asked.

“Two million Gold Sol,” Bastern replied.

“Two million? That’s a truly headache-inducing number… Then the York family must need at least five million Gold Sol. I’m very curious where they get so much money.”

“The York family is funding their water project with the sale of green bricks. It’s an absolutely brilliant idea,” Bastern said, shaking his head with a sigh. He then explained to Williams the relationship between the giant brick kilns, the green brick trade, and the water projects in full detail.

Williams was silent for a long time. His eyes flickered and he said, “The Night Owl is trying to obtain the blueprints for the giant brick kilns.”

When the Centaur Hills first started selling green bricks, the nobles of the Royal Capital had mocked the York family for sinking to selling dirt. Before long, however, lords using green bricks to build their towns became a trend, much like noble ladies’ fondness for high-heeled shoes. Currently, the York family’s Goldwater City, the Briatte family’s Wildwillow City, Duke Wellington’s Vistock, House Sorim’s Copper City, and Duke Nimes’s Ojibwa were all using green bricks to repair their outer walls.

How could the nobles of the Royal Capital accept Blinor City being outshone by these towns? However, purchasing green bricks from the Centaur Hills and transporting them over such a great distance made the cost prohibitively high. Therefore, even before the York family announced their man-made channel, Williams had instructed the Night Owl to spy on the design of the giant brick kilns.

Scholars have their pride. Grand Vizier Bastern was not optimistic about this plan. He said reservedly, “The designs are in the architect’s head. Even if those spies were to tour the inside of the giant brick kilns, they wouldn’t be able to understand it or explain it clearly.”

“Your Highness, we will eventually obtain the design methods for the giant brick kilns,” Bastern said with a smile. “But the York family’s strategy of funding the canals with the sale of bricks is more worthy of our study.”

“Cultivating aberrant war beasts takes decades and is enormously expensive. The procurement list submitted by the York family is worth two hundred thousand Gold Sol, and I estimate they will have to continue investing over a million Gold Sol. This money could alleviate our financial pressure.”

“I understand what you mean,” Williams said, taking a deep breath. “The York family is forging ahead, but we haven’t been idle either. They have their water projects, and so do we. They have one hundred million mu of farmland, but we have one hundred and fifty million. They are cultivating aberrant war beasts, but we have the Swift Dragon Knights and the Glory Knights.”

Bastern bowed. “Your Highness. I have always believed that embracing the strong makes one stronger, while consorting with the weak only makes one weaker. The York family is catching up to us. What we must do is maintain our lead, not turn back to trip them up.”

“In tripping a vassal, we would also trip ourselves.”

Williams nodded and picked up his pen, signing his name on the procurement list. Marquess Bastern took the letter, bowed, and departed.

After the Grand Vizier left the room, Grand Duke Williams gave a wry smile. What Bastern had said was just a form of helpless self-encouragement. Although the rise of the Centaur Hills was now a fact, the source of the York family’s transformation was deeply suspicious. The mouldboard plow, New Agro-husbandry, the giant brick kilns, the water projects, the trade in Wildwillow City, the aberrant Dragon-Lizard—all of the York family’s moves were interlinked, forming their own cohesive system. Williams simply could not believe these were all coincidences. He felt that an exceptionally brilliant strategist was serving the York family, and it was definitely not a Spire Scholar.

“Could it be him?” A handsome young man’s image appeared in Williams’s mind, but he immediately dismissed his own guess.

“If Victor were that person, Sylvia wouldn’t give him free rein. Besides, Victor was personally trained by Catherine; his history is very clear. It seems the problem still lies with the giant brick kilns,” Williams muttered to himself and raised a hand to ring the small bell on his desk. A court attendant entered, and Williams ordered, “Go and fetch Walus.”

Before long, the chief of the Night Owl appeared before Williams.

“Your Highness, you summoned me?”

“How did you get here so quickly?” Williams asked.

Walus bowed and replied, “I happened to have a matter to report to you.”

Williams nodded. “Your matter can wait. How is the investigation into the giant brick kilns in the Centaur Hills coming along?”

“Not much progress. The York family only uses craftsmen they are familiar with to build the kilns, and they are all very tight-lipped. Our people will need some time to infiltrate them.”

“Assign more men. Find out who the true designer of the giant brick kilns is.”

“As you wish.” Walus bowed, took a sheepskin letter from his pocket, and handed it over. “Her Majesty Catherine asked me to pass this on to you.”

After reading the letter, Williams’s face darkened. “Do you know its contents?”

“It’s a personal letter from Duke Peter of the Kingdom of Borea. He claims to have executed a female imposter posing as Marquess Sophia and asks if Sophia has already met with misfortune. Peter also says he will gift us a batch of Bloodboil Potion, and that we can discuss further cooperation if we are interested.” Williams threw the letter on the desk and sneered, “The Boreans want to use a potion recipe to make us announce Sophia’s death! How audacious of them!”

Walus’s expression was strange as he said, “Her Majesty the Queen has already had the apothecaries verify the effects of the Bloodboil Potion. Master Hyde says this potion’s duration is longer than a berserk potion, and the harm it does to soldiers is negligible. It can effectively increase a soldier’s strength and agility, and its effects are more akin to the Bloodlust of a Savage Gnoll. Master Hyde believes the Bloodboil Potion is of inestimable value.”

“Oh?” Williams calmed down. He tapped the table and asked, “Why do the Boreans want to deal with Sophia?”

Walus asked cautiously, “Your Highness, what was the name of that female imposter?”

“Amy May,” Williams said after a moment’s thought. “If I recall correctly, she was one of Sophia’s confidant knights. During the time Sophia was deep in Mount Arreat, Amy May pretended to be Sophia and traveled to the Kingdom of Borea, attempting to deceive us. Unfortunately, the spy the Night Owl planted by Sophia’s side had already sent us the news. If not for the issue of the marquessate’s succession, we would have already announced Sophia’s death.”

Walus lamented, “Your Highness, Amy May was that spy.”

“What!?”

“Two months ago, we lost contact with Amy May. I suspect the Boreans captured her and wanted to interrogate her about Sophia’s relationship with the barbarians. After Amy May’s identity was exposed, the Boreans silenced her by killing her.”

“Ever since Sophia monopolized the Purple Cane wine trade, the Kingdom of Borea’s share of trade in Naville and the Moon Bear Dukedom has continued to decline. This is especially true for several medicinal herbs produced in Mount Arreat; Sophia controls eighty percent of the supply. These herbs are all raw materials for cleansing potions and Vigor Potions. The Kingdom of Borea competes with the Kingdom of Sus for knights from the Eastern Alliance, and they are in dire need of cleansing potions and Vigor Potions. Sophia’s relationship with the barbarians has harmed the Kingdom of Borea’s interests, which is why they want to move against her.”

“So that’s how it is,” Williams said thoughtfully. “Sophia secretly transferred three million Gold Sol to her Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild. If she dies, the guild and that money will fall into our hands. The Boreans know we are in financial difficulty, which is why they dare to scheme against Sophia.”

“Trading a Bloodboil Potion recipe for a Great Knight plaything. I’m afraid Andre is the real mastermind behind this, isn’t he!” Williams sneered.

Walus inquired, “Your Highness, what should we do?”

“Her Majesty Catherine gave me Duke Peter’s personal letter. Do you still not understand her meaning?” Williams waved the letter in his hand. “I have no reason to rescue Sophia. As for Sylvia, do you think she would help her rival in love?”

“I understand. The downfall of Marquess Sophia is beneficial to everyone,” Walus said with the utmost respect.

“You don’t understand!” Grand Duke Williams clapped his hands together, turning the letter to dust. “And I don’t understand either… Until the designer of the giant brick kilns is found, Sophia will remain a Marchioness of Gambis.”

“This… what does that have to do with anything?”

“Perhaps it has everything to do with it,” Grand Duke Williams said meaningfully. “And if it does, then even trading three million Gold Sol for a single favor from him would be worth it.”

Chapter 310: The Showdown (Part 1)

The Goldwater River is a miracle of the Creator. Where it flows into the sea, it has carved out a freshwater region of several hundred thousand square kilometers at its mouth, an area people call the Eastern Bay.

The Eastern Bay is vast, like an ocean, with seven massive, interconnected islands scattered throughout it. These islands are arranged in a ring, separated by only a few kilometers. The largest island is over forty thousand square kilometers, while the smallest is still over ten thousand, with a total area of about two hundred twenty thousand square kilometers.

The islands boast fertile land, lush forests, and abundant produce. They have high-quality Adamantine mines, precious juniper trees, and vast groves of breadfruit trees. The value of Adamantine needs no explanation, the Dumu wine brewed from its juniper berries is renowned far and wide, and the breadfruit, which yields two harvests a year, is rich in starch. When peeled and ground into flour, it can be baked into bread with a unique flavor. The Kingdom of Borea sustains millions of people on its annual breadfruit harvest alone, not only meeting the food demands of the kingdom and the Eastern Alliance, but also allowing for some exports to the Kingdom of Naville. Combined with the endless bounty of fish and aquatic life from the bay, the Seven Great Islands, belonging to the Kingdom of Borea, are also known as the granary of the East.

Ogar Island is located at the southern end of the Seven Great Islands, less than twenty kilometers from the south bank of the Goldwater River. Over two hundred years ago, the Kingdom of Borea attempted to open up new territories. They set out from Ogar Island and landed on the Southern Continent, building a wharf and Vanguard Fortress. However, they were besieged by a barbarian tribe and ultimately forced to retreat in defeat, and Vanguard Fortress fell into the hands of the barbarians. Using the farmlands, mines, and production facilities left behind by the Boreans, that barbarian clan transitioned from a nomadic to an agricultural and pastoral lifestyle. They mined ore, smelted iron, forged weapons, and conquered many smaller barbarian clans. The growing barbarian clan proclaimed itself a royal family and, with Vanguard Fortress as its capital, established a barbarian kingdom.

This barbarian kingdom posed a direct threat to the security of Ogar Island. Consequently, the Five Great Families of the Kingdom of Borea frequently dispatched elite knights to raid the barbarians’ logging camps and mines, while also constructing over a dozen fortresses around the island. South Wind Fortress is undoubtedly the most prominent of these massive strongholds.

Built eighty years ago as a defense against the barbarians and to guard the gateway to Ogar Island, South Wind Fortress took twelve years and fifty thousand laborers for the Kingdom of Borea to complete. It surpasses the limits of human fortresses, standing seventy-two meters tall, and is currently the most magnificent fortress in the human kingdoms.

At this moment, Sophia stood on a balcony of South Wind Fortress, gazing into the distance.

Gulls flew in unison over the vast, misty waters dotted with white sails, and the south bank of the Goldwater River was faintly visible. One could simply rent a large ship from the port below South Wind Fortress and deliver the barbarians to their destination in half a day, yet Sophia’s dark brows were slightly furrowed, her expression was cold, and her bright, beautiful face showed no trace of joy. A hint of killing intent flickered in her amethyst-like eyes. Just then, Natalya approached her and said softly, “Sophia, His Highness Andre’s attendant knight has arrived.”

Sophia turned to glance at her close friend and confidante, smiling coldly. “So Andre is finally willing to see me!” With that, she walked into the room.

In the living room, a young, handsome knight quickly rose from the sofa upon seeing the Marchioness’s incomparably beautiful figure. Sophia was wearing a court-style, low-cut, waist-cinching long dress that revealed her rounded shoulders and a large expanse of her snowy-white chest. Her brilliant purple hair was casually pinned up, and her fair, smooth skin was so inviting one couldn’t help but feel the urge to kiss it. She gracefully sat down on the sofa, her hands clasped before her knees. Her blend of dignified and alluring charm momentarily dazed the young knight opposite her.

Sophia’s crimson lips parted, and in a voice as melodious as a warbler’s song, she asked, “What has Andre sent you for?”

The young knight snapped back to his senses, lowered his gaze, and awkwardly performed a Knight’s salute. “Schuster greets the Marchioness. May the Marchioness’s beauty be eternal.” Sophia gave a slight nod in return. The young knight continued, “My master has just arrived on Ogar Island. He awaits Your Excellency at the Cristel family’s Red Leaf Manor.”

“Very good.” Sophia nodded, chuckling softly. “I will go change my clothes, but I will not be going to Red Leaf Manor. Please inform Andre that I will be waiting for him on the mountain behind South Wind Fortress. It’s… more spacious there!” The young knight looked up, about to speak, but the moment he met her purple eyes, he felt as if he had been plunged into an ice cellar. He couldn’t utter a single word and could only bow and take his leave.

After the young knight had departed, Sophia turned and returned to the inner room, where Natalya had already prepared her Mithril armor and longsword. Once fully outfitted, Sophia transformed from a charming noble lady into a dashing Great Knight. She raised her longsword for inspection, sheathed it, and smiled at Natalya, who was also in full battle dress. “If a vicious battle awaits us, are you afraid?”

“Andre and his people should be the ones who are afraid.”

“Haha, you’re right! Harald will make the Boreans tremble in fear!”

Two months ago, escorted by Sacred Warriors, Sophia had secretly arrived at Red Port with over three hundred barbarians and requested to lease ships from the Kingdom of Borea to cross the river. Faced with such a large group of powerful barbarian warriors, the Boreans were deeply suspicious and delayed giving a clear answer. In the end, it was Archbishop Oleg of the Kingdom of Borea who mediated, and the Boreans reluctantly agreed to let Sophia bring one barbarian representative to the Seven Great Islands to negotiate the lease. The other barbarians had to remain in Red Port and await news.

After all, the Seven Great Islands were the heartland of the Kingdom of Borea. Sophia understood the Boreans’ caution, because even she couldn’t clearly state the true purpose of the barbarians’ river crossing, nor did she know if they had any connection to the barbarians of the Southern Continent. However, she was certain that these barbarians would not endanger the human kingdoms, at least not for now.

A barbarian’s promise was as unshakable as Mount Arreat, but the Boreans were unlikely to understand this. Sophia was also worried that the Boreans might tamper with the ships. If they sank midway, it would be an irreversible disaster.

Without trust, both sides needed thorough communication and viable proposals to reach a consensus.

Sophia showed the utmost patience and sincerity in trying to persuade the Borean Senate, yet throughout this process, Andre, the one who had invited her to visit the Kingdom of Borea, never once appeared.

The Kingdom of Borea was ruled by the Five Great Families in rotation. The current king was Duke Peter, and the Cristel family was the next in line to rule. Andre was originally the younger brother of Duke Hosmoen. Now, as a Gold Knight, he had joined the long-weakened Cristel family and married Duke Cristel’s eldest daughter. He could influence the attitudes of two great families, so avoiding suspicion was understandable.

But the Five Great Families checked and balanced each other, and the Senate had always been known for its sluggishness. They debated for a full month with no result. Sophia desperately needed Andre’s help and repeatedly requested a meeting, but Andre delayed with various excuses and finally resorted to disappearing altogether.

Today, sixty-eight days after Sophia had set foot on the island, Andre had finally appeared.

Nearly two months was enough time for the Kingdom of Borea to set up all kinds of backup plans. Even the dullest person could sense the malice in it. In fact, Sophia, Natalya, and the barbarian Harald were all trapped on Ogar Island. They had not only lost contact with the barbarians stranded in Red Port, but Archbishop Oleg had also been sent away to Red Port. Most importantly, Sophia’s body double, Amy May, had not been heard from since.

The time for a showdown had come. Sophia had prepared for the worst, but she was not afraid. The barbarian chief, Harald, was the source of her confidence.

The mountain behind South Wind Fortress was now a restricted area on Ogar Island. When Sophia and Natalya arrived, the soldiers of the Kingdom of Borea no longer followed. They walked to a clearing on the mountaintop and saw Harald.

“Elder, have you eaten your fill?” Sophia asked with a smile, speaking in the barbarian tongue.

Harald glanced at the fully armored female knight, tossed aside the ox bone in his hand, and said in a deep voice, “Urus Sophia, you have prepared for battle.”

Sophia sighed and said, “I did not wish for this, but if it is necessary, I will not shy away from it!”

“If a problem can be solved with an axe, there’s no need for argument. These mortals have wasted too much of our time.”

Harald scooped up a handful of earth to wipe the grease from his hands, then picked up the battleaxe lying on the ground and slowly rose to his feet. His upper body was bare, his muscles like cast iron, and his bronze skin was covered in scars and tattoos. His silver-white hair and beard, along with the weathered lines on his face, showed he was in his twilight years, yet his world-weary eyes were still firm. Two massive axes, each weighing over three hundred pounds, felt as light as nothing in his hands. The earth and mountains seemed to merge as one with the old barbarian. The tyrannical, savage aura made Natalya’s chest tighten, and she involuntarily took a step back.

“The opponents have arrived. Let’s hope they are as strong as a Land Drake and as fierce as a Snow Monster.” The old barbarian looked down the mountain. A figure appeared in an instant. He had a well-proportioned build and a handsome face. His golden hair shone like the sun, and his azure eyes were purer than the sky, yet as deep as the ocean. His every move exuded a captivating charm.

“Your Highness, good day.” Natalya curtsied. Sophia, however, rested her hand on her sword hilt and said with a lovely laugh, “Your Highness Andre, you come to this meeting without armor or weapon, completely empty-handed. Don’t you find that a bit rude?” At this moment, her amethyst-like eyes had turned emerald green.

Andre gave an elegant bow to the old barbarian and the two female knights, saying sincerely, “Sophia, I am very sorry.”

Sophia said coldly, “I need an explanation.”

Andre paused in thought for a moment before saying, “Sophia, you come from the nobility of Sus, so you should know the relationship between the Kingdom of Sus and our Kingdom of Borea. Although our Kingdom of Borea is wealthy, we have always lacked the raw materials for cleansing potions and Vigor Potions. The Kingdom of Sus has always been displeased with our recruitment of Knight-Nobles from the Eastern Alliance, and they forbid the flow of medicinal herbs from the Twilight Forest into the Kingdom of Borea. We only have two routes for procuring these herbs: one is the Kingdom of Naville, and the other is Mount Tyrrell.”

“Ever since you obtained the distribution rights for Purple Cane wine, our trade shares in the Kingdom of Naville and the Teutonic Duchy have continuously declined. Our reserves of medicinal herbs are now insufficient to meet our needs. But the barbarians on the Southern Continent remain a grave concern for us. If our knights cannot continuously destroy the barbarians’ production facilities, it won’t be ten years before they can build docks, construct ships, and directly threaten the safety of the Seven Great Islands, and even the entire Eastern Alliance.”

“I invited you to visit Borea originally to discuss matters of trade share. But we never expected you to have such a deep connection with Mount Tyrrell…” Andre shook his head with a bitter smile. “My dear Sophia, I apologize to you once again… If you complete the barbarians’ commission, Gambis will completely monopolize the trade from Mount Tyrrell. This is something we cannot accept.”

From the perspective of the Sus nobles, the Boreans’ claims were pure alarmism. It wasn’t so easy for the barbarians to build ships. As long as the Kingdom of Borea had sufficient warships, they could keep the barbarians suppressed on the south bank. The Gnoll kingdom in the Twilight Forest was the greatest threat to the eastern nations. The Boreans’ recruitment of knights from the Eastern Alliance, on the other hand, revealed their ambition to annex the Kingdom of Sus. Therefore, the Kingdom of Sus sold high-quality timber to the Boreans but refused to supply the raw materials for cleansing potions and Vigor Potions.

The Kingdom of Borea had similar worries. The Kingdom of Sus already monopolized timber and had restricted the export of medicinal ingredients. At the end of the day, Sophia was still a Sus noble. If she cut off these two trade routes, it would be tantamount to strangling the Kingdom of Borea.

“Although I am the Marchioness of Gambis and of Sus nobility, I have always upheld the principle of merchant neutrality. I have already made it clear to the Borean Senate that I will supply you with a sufficient amount of medicinal herbs every year. Archbishop Oleg can oversee my promise,” Sophia stated coldly.

“Haha! My beautiful Marchioness Sophia, I too uphold the principle of merchant neutrality. Why not let me complete the barbarians’ commission? I promise to sell a sufficient amount of medicinal herbs to the House of Wimbledon’s merchant association every year. Would you agree to that?” Several nobles and knights walked up the hillside, one of them saying with a loud laugh.

Sophia’s gaze hardened. Staring at the man who had spoken, she said, word by word, “I knew it was you scheming against me behind my back! MARQUESS! GRE! TO!”

Chapter 311: The Showdown (Part 2)

“

Currently, among all the commercial nobility, only the merchant associations of two great families could travel freely between the major kingdoms and the Sasan Empire. One was the Wimbledon family from the Kingdom of Gambia, and the other was the Ephesus family from the Borrey United Kingdom. The influence and trade volume of the two merchant associations were comparable, both belonging to the highest tier of commercial nobility, yet their natures and primary goods were starkly different.

“

The Wimbledon Merchant Association was a product of the political games between the Sasan Empire and the three kingdoms. Legally, they belonged to the Kingdom of Gambia, but they also served as the Sasan Empire’s tool for exporting grain and purchasing minerals. Therefore, the merchant association was loyal only to the name Wimbledon, not to the Wimbledon family itself.

“

The Ephesus family of the Kingdom of Borea was founded over four hundred years ago. Compared to the ancient Wimbledons, they could only be considered upstarts. However, the founder of the Ephesus family established a rule: the family would specialize in trade, their noble title would be inherited by ordinary nobles, and their knightly scions must join the Five Great Ruling Families.

“

This far-sighted family rule eliminated the wariness of the Five Great Ruling Families, allowing the Ephesus family to firmly control the Kingdom of Borea’s foreign trade and the position of Minister of Finance. Leveraging their precious adamantine, the Ephesus Merchant Association knocked on the doors of lords everywhere, selling Juniper wine across the world and gradually becoming a preeminent commercial noble family.

“

Unlike the Wimbledon Merchant Association, the Ephesus family always retained ownership of their merchant association. Although they submitted the vast majority of their trade profits to the national treasury, they still accumulated astonishing wealth and an extensive network of connections.

“

The Ephesus family was adept and skillful in their dealings. Externally, they wielded adamantine and Juniper wine, earning wealth while befriending powerful figures and arranging political marriages with the court nobles of the major kingdoms. Internally, they exploited the conflicts among the Five Great Ruling Families to their advantage, playing all sides. The knightly scions of Ephesus had also infiltrated the mid-level leadership of the kingdom, offering considerable protection to their kin.

“

For hundreds of years, the Ephesus family stood firm, their influence and wealth growing by the day, subtly earning them the title of Borea’s sixth great family.

“

Marquess Greto Ephesus, Minister of Finance of the Kingdom of Borea and leader of the Ephesus Merchant Association, was undoubtedly Sophia’s greatest competitor. But Marquess Greto himself did not see it that way.

“

The Wimbledon Merchant Association primarily dealt in the grain trade, while Ephesus made its fortune from adamantine and Juniper wine; their core products did not conflict. On the other hand, the fate of the Wimbledon Merchant Association was in the hands of the Sassans. No matter how capable its leader was, they could not change this awkward situation. Therefore, Greto had never even given the late Marquess Wimbledon a second thought, so how could he possibly consider Sophia a rival?

“

The sudden emergence of Purple Cane wine, however, put Greto on alert. It was as if another diner had suddenly appeared at the table, and someone used to having the whole pie to themselves was hardly going to be pleased. Fortunately, the reputation, production volume, sales channels, variety, and aged vintages of Purple Cane wine could not compare to the Juniper wine managed by the Ephesus family. In fact, the sales of Wimbledon’s Purple Cane wine were less than thirty percent of that of Juniper wine, but Marquess Greto still sensed a worrying trend.

“

The prices paid by the various kingdoms for Purple Cane wine were generally higher than for Juniper wine. This was not because Purple Cane wine tasted better or was of higher quality; the lords intended to use the price difference to compel the Ephesus Merchant Association to lower the price of Juniper wine. Then, they would use the new price of Juniper wine to suppress the price of Purple Cane wine.

“

Marquess Greto was unconcerned. The production of Purple Cane wine was limited, and it would not be able to challenge the position of Juniper wine for decades. Even if the Centaur Hills increased production, they could not completely eliminate Juniper wine; at most, they would split the market.

“

How much money could one make just by selling wine? Marquess Greto was worried about something else.

“

The Five Great Ruling Families were well aware of the production, sales, and profits of adamantine and Juniper wine. The Ephesus family always turned over the profits from these two specialty products in full, never daring to conceal a single coin. However, the trade of common goods was a muddled affair. The Ephesus family’s caravans traveled all over the world, purchasing local produce at low prices and transporting them elsewhere to be sold for a huge profit, keeping the majority of it for themselves.

“

It was precisely by reselling local produce from various regions that the Ephesus family had amassed its staggering wealth. But the produce of each territory was ultimately limited. If Sophia bought more, the Ephesus family would earn less. This was almost inevitable.

“

A merchant association’s profit comes from its channels, and strategic resources are the trump card for opening up trade routes. Now, not only had Sophia obtained the rights to sell Purple Cane wine, but her husband also possessed raw sugar, another strategic resource. The Wimbledon Merchant Association, under Sophia’s leadership, clearly had what it took to break free from its constraints.

“

Although the strategic value of adamantine was higher than that of Purple Cane wine and raw sugar, adamantine was a non-renewable resource. Its sales were strictly controlled by the Kingdom of Borea, making Juniper wine the true core product of the Ephesus Merchant Association. Compared to the Ephesus family, the Wimbledon Merchant Association possessed three strategic resources—green wheat, Purple Cane wine, and raw sugar—giving them a clear advantage.

“

Marquess Greto knew well that the Ephesus Merchant Association could only maintain its current profits by obtaining the rights to trade raw sugar. After a period of deliberation, he decided to cooperate with the Wimbledon Merchant Association, offering to trade the rights to adamantine and Juniper wine for the rights to raw sugar and Purple Cane wine, with the goal of splitting the market.

“

Greto persuaded the kingdom’s Senate, and Andre was sent to invite Sophia to visit the Kingdom of Borea. The plan was to present her with the facts, reason with her, and make this politically naive Marchioness understand just how precarious her situation was, and that cooperation was her only way out. However, events took an unexpected turn. The one who visited the Kingdom of Borea was Sophia’s body double, while she herself had not only concealed her whereabouts but had also established a connection with the barbarians. Greto immediately adjusted his strategy, devising a plan to remove Sophia from the game entirely, a plan that received the support of the Five Great Families.

“

Sophia had not expected the Boreans would dare to risk war with the barbarians by detaining her. At this moment, Greto’s pitying gaze displeased her greatly. She said icily, “You old man, you have made a mistake. The Kingdom of Borea will pay the price for your mistake!”

“

“My dear, you are the one who has erred.” Greto shook his head and chuckled. “The old Marquess Wimbledon had no good intentions when he left the merchant association to you. You are merely a tool he used to stir up trouble. I imagine he never told you that the merchant association must be neutral, but it cannot be independent!”

“

“So allow me to explain the mistakes you’ve made!”

“

“First, you should not have betrayed Queen Catherine,” Greto said. “Queen Catherine demanded that you use trade to compel the lords of Gambis to support Prince Edward. This did indeed violate the principle of the merchant association’s neutrality, but it would not have led to its collapse. Her Majesty the Queen could have simply removed you from the association to appease the lords’ resentment. Viscount Randell was clearly the successor arranged by the Queen. Your move from the forefront to behind the scenes was actually an act of goodwill from the Queen, yet you saw it as a sacrifice.”

“

“Second, you should not have transferred the assets of the Stag Merchants’ Guild to your Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild. Your desire to establish a commercial family is a betrayal of the Gambis royal family. The Auguste family tolerates you only because they do not wish to upset the balance with the York family. Once their relationship stabilizes, they will deal with your Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild.”

“

“Her Highness Sylvia has always looked upon you with favor, but you rejected the York family’s recruitment. How much support can she really give you? Oh, right, you probably don’t know this yet, but the Centaur Hills are currently constructing a man-made channel over a thousand kilometers long. Viscount Randell’s viscounty is a vital part of this project, which makes your marriage to him Her Highness Sylvia’s biggest headache. If you were to disappear, Her Highness would surely arrange for Phoenix the Knight to marry Viscount Randell.”

“

“Your Excellency Sophia, who do you truly serve? Who is your backer?”

“

Sophia remained silent for a moment, then her gaze shifted to Andre as she said mockingly, “Are you planning to kill me? Or make me your pet?”

“

“I never had such a lavish hope that you would truly be infatuated with me.” Andre stared into Sophia’s emerald eyes and said solemnly, “Sophia, you already stand at the pinnacle of Silver Knights and deserve Respect. I hope you will join our Kingdom of Borea, help us fulfill the barbarians’ request, and earn the friendship of the mountain tribes.”

“

“And if I refuse?”

“

“We Boreans have ports and warships; we can help the mighty barbarian warriors cross the river. Woman, what does any of this have to do with you!”

Marquess Greto deliberately shouted in the barbarian tongue from the side, but the old barbarian remained expressionless, and a faint, mocking smile played on Sophia’s lips. Greto felt a wave of frustration, suspecting the old barbarian hadn’t understood a word he’d said. After all, these barbarians came from different tribes.

“

“Marchioness Sophia, why not hear our terms?” A knight with a commanding presence broke the awkward silence. Sophia bowed slightly to him and said, “Your Majesty the King, please speak freely.”

“

This fully armed knight was none other than the ruler of the Kingdom of Borea, Duke Peter, who was also one of the kingdom’s five Gold Knights. Regardless of their opposing stances, Duke Peter was a forerunner among Knights, and Sophia, as a Silver-rank Great Knight, naturally had to show him respect.

“

“Sophia, you should understand that Mount Arreat is not a power you can control,” Duke Peter said. “If you are willing to join the Kingdom of Borea, we can arrange a new identity for you and grant you the title of Earl, along with an Earldom on the North Shore.”

“

“An Earldom on the North Shore? Surely not land belonging to the Eastern Alliance?” Sophia sneered. “How is that any different from exile? I want territory on the Seven Great Islands. Would Your Majesty be willing to grant that?”

“

“How is that possible?! There has been no spare land on the Seven Great Islands for ages,” Marquess Greto cut in. “My lord Sophia, the land we would grant you is within the borders of the Kingdom of Borea…” Duke Peter raised a hand to silence Greto, then nodded. “I won’t hide it from you. That fief is indeed adjacent to the border. However, since we recognize you as a lord of the Kingdom of Borea, it is within the borders of the Kingdom of Borea.”

“

“The Seven Great Islands… one for each of the Five Great Families, and the other two are fiefs for the court nobles… To show my sincerity, I am willing to cede three thousand square kilometers of territory from the Peter family’s island and exchange it for a piece of land on Ogar Island to serve as your fief. The Earldom on the North Shore will also still be yours.”

“

At these words, even Andre was visibly shaken. A fief of three thousand square kilometers was not large, but it was located within the Seven Great Islands. This meant that if Sophia agreed, she would immediately become the sixth Borean lord to have a domain on the islands. Seeing Andre’s surprise, Sophia knew this was an impromptu decision by Duke Peter, not something that had been discussed among the Five Great Families. She pondered for a moment and said, “Such generous terms surely come with conditions?”

“

Duke Peter smiled. “Indeed, there is a condition…” He beckoned behind him, and a young, hooded noble stepped forward, saying respectfully, “Father.”

“

“This is my eldest son, Raymond Peter. For certain reasons, he has lost his right of inheritance… Like Viscount Randell, Raymond is a noble with elven bloodline, and he has also awakened the Wind Walk talent.” Duke Peter pulled back Raymond’s hood, revealing a handsome face. He had black hair and black eyes, with slightly pointed ears that bore some resemblance to Victor’s, but his demeanor was more frail and delicate.

“

“Raymond’s bloodline is noble. Even if it cannot compare to Her Highness Sylvia’s beloved, it is not far off. If the two of you were to marry, I would certainly fulfill my promise. Sophia, do you agree?”

“

Sophia remained silent. Seeing this, Marquess Greto remarked dryly, “Sophia, a High-ranked Knight is not suited to lead a commercial family. If I had made the same mistakes as you, my reputation would be in tatters, yet you have the chance to become a lord of the Great Islands. This is a golden opportunity. You should know that four million Gold Sols could never buy land on the Seven Great Islands.”

“

“Marquess Greto, there is something I don’t understand,” Sophia said with a light laugh. “Why have you schemed so deliberately to keep me in the Kingdom of Borea? Is there truly no middle ground? For instance, sharing the trade rights with the mountain tribes. Are your actions truly for the good of the kingdom, or for the benefit of the Ephesus family?”

“

Faced with such a sharp question, Marquess Greto merely smiled calmly. “Sophia, you need not try to drive a wedge between me and the kingdom. The interests of the Ephesus family do not conflict with the interests of the kingdom. I am simply trying to maximize our benefits. As for the risks, I fail to see any significant ones, because only our Kingdom of Borea can help the barbarians cross the river, and we are happy to do so. You, on the other hand, cannot.”

“

Sophia said coldly, “Even if I leave Gambis, the Wimbledon Merchant Association will still control the Purple Cane wine and raw sugar trades.”

“

“Of course, I am aware of that.” Greto smiled. “My dear Sophia, your ambition frightens me, and you have the ability to influence Lord Randal’s decisions. If you join our Kingdom of Borea, things become simple. I need only offer Her Highness Sylvia an interest-free loan of one million Gold Sols, and I will certainly be able to secure the trade shares for Purple Cane wine and raw sugar.”

“

“Alright, everything that needs to be said has been said. Now, the choice is yours.”

“

“It seems I have no choice,” Sophia frowned, then laughed coquettishly. “Unfortunately, I cannot make decisions for the barbarians. You will have to talk to Elder Harald yourselves. I can translate for you.”

“

Sophia turned and began speaking with the old barbarian. Duke Peter asked Marquess Greto in a low voice, “The barbarian tongue she speaks seems the same as yours.” Greto nodded, his expression grave. “Yes. She’s telling the old barbarian that we are willing to help them cross the river and hope to gain the friendship of the mountain tribes. However… it seems the old barbarian wants us to pass a test.”

“

At that moment, the barbarian Harald stepped past Sophia, raised his battleaxe, and bellowed, “Barbarians do not ally with the weak! To gain the friendship of the Children of the High Mountain, you must prove your courage and strength. There is no mighty prey here, so let us try a test of blood. Take my head, and the Children of the High Mountain will trust you!”

“

Harald’s surging battlelust infected the knights present. The four Great Knights who had accompanied Duke Peter gripped the hilts of their swords, eager for a fight. Greto quickly translated the old barbarian’s words. Duke Peter asked, “What are the rules?”

“

Sophia shook her head and interjected, “There are no rules. Barbarians consider a death from old age to be a disgrace. This is their blood combat tradition: honor for the living, peace for the dead. Harald is challenging all of you.”

“

Was this a joke? If they killed this old barbarian, wouldn’t the other three hundred of them tear Red Port apart?

“

Duke Peter pondered for a moment, then said to Sophia, “Tell this warrior that I accept his challenge alone. I will defeat him, but I will not kill him.”

“

After hearing Sophia’s translation, Harald pointed his battleaxe at Duke Peter and laughed heartily. “Recklessness is not courage, but I like your spirit. One-on-one it is, then. So long as you can endure under my axe for a quarter of an hour, you shall have the friendship of the Children of the High Mountain.”

“

“That could not be simpler.” Duke Peter smiled and waved Marquess Greto away. He took up a heavy adamantine shield, and a yellow aura swirled around his body, distorting the very air. He struck his sword against his shield, sending sparks flying. “Come!”

“

Harald crossed the dozen-meter distance in a single leap, his battleaxe transforming into a black blur that howled as it smashed down toward the waiting Pinnacle Knight. His strength was so ferocious and violent that a sharp, cloth-tearing sound ripped through the air as small, visible vortexes formed around the battleaxe.

“

The old barbarian’s axe shattered the air, unstoppable as a great beast soaring through the sky! The onlookers were all aghast and pale.

“

Chapter 312: The Showdown (Part 2)

Barbarians are tall and strong, generally over eight feet in height and weighing no less than 250 kilograms. Their muscles are as tough as rock, their bones as hard as refined iron. This powerful physique grants them extraordinary strength and endurance. An adult barbarian can single-handedly overturn a carriage weighing several tons and can also run for over a hundred kilometers while pulling a fully loaded one.

In terms of strength and physique, only Ogres among humanoid monsters can compare to barbarians. The difference is that Ogres are dull and lazy; their intelligence and combat skills are rooted in their Bloodline, awakening as they delve deeper into their savage state. Barbarians, however, are passionate about combat. They hone their bodies and will, becoming adept in martial skills, and they are both heroic and fierce in battle.

At this moment, Harald was displaying the power and skill of a barbarian to its fullest extent. The old barbarian swung his battleaxe, a black arc of light, to meet the Pinnacle Knight who was poised and ready. His thick arms bulged with latent power, and the battleaxe in his hands let out a sharp cry, like a furious storm of steel.

No one could believe that such wild agility and ferocious strength could come from an aging barbarian, but everyone believed this deadly attack was enough to shatter shields and armor, to punch through a Knight’s flesh, organs, and bone.

Yes, punch through, not slice.

However, the old barbarian’s opponent was no mortal. He was a pinnacle among Knights, a Knight among pinnacles.

Knights were undoubtedly the darlings of heaven and earth. Every time they resonated with an Elemental Node, their Physique, strength, agility, Perception, and Spirit all saw a massive boost. A junior Knight’s strength and speed were at least five times that of an Elite Soldier, their bodies and minds perfectly attuned, one and the same. Upon reaching the Silver-rank, a Knight’s inner and outer self would converge, and the void element would gradually alter their life form. Not only would they escape the troubles of aging and disease, but their base attributes would be more than double that of an ordinary Knight. The manifestation of void elements would make their armor indestructible and their weapons unstoppable, while their abilities corresponding to the four major elements would grow exponentially. A Gold Knight resonated with thirty-six Elemental Nodes, their abilities triple that of an ordinary Knight, and they controlled the void element as naturally as breathing. By communicating with the Elemental Sea, a Gold Knight could achieve a state of Oneness with nature. As long as their Physique could withstand it, their power was limitless.

All things in the world are composed of elements, and no elemental change could escape the eyes of a Gold Knight. This was the ability that allowed Pinnacle Knights to stand above all others.

The old barbarian’s chop was sharp and fierce, simple and seasoned, as unstoppable as a flash flood. Yet, amidst this imposing attack, Duke Peter clearly perceived the force of his opponent’s blow, the change in its speed, the angle of attack, and even the pull of the muscles beneath the skin, along with seven subtle gaps in his exertion of force.

Even a junior Knight would not have such gaps in their power application, and a gap was an opening.

Duke Peter had many ways to exploit these openings and swiftly defeat his opponent, but he chose the most imposing option: a direct, head-on clash.

Barbarians worshiped strength. A direct wrestling match would undoubtedly earn the respect of the tribes on the mountain. And when it came to strength, what Earth Knight had ever feared anyone? Duke Peter could even hold his own against an Ogre Warlord with an awakened Bloodline memory.

The shield, wreathed in the void earth element, was raised high. Duke Peter had already foreseen how the battle would unfold: the axe and shield would collide, and the resulting force would perfectly interrupt Harald’s continuous exertion of power, causing him to stagger back half a step. He would then slam his shield into Harald’s abdomen, press his Mithril longsword against his left-hand axe, and with a twist and a pull, the axe would be wrenched from his grasp. What followed would be close-quarters combat, preventing the old barbarian from using his reach advantage and rendering him unable to fully exert his strength.

Within five moves, he would make the barbarian Elder accept his defeat wholeheartedly!

Bang!

The sound of shield and axe clashing echoed across the clearing, the resulting gust of air as sharp as swords. Duke Peter had steadily received the terrifying Downward Chop, but the old barbarian did not stagger back as expected. Instead, he swung his left-hand axe with an even sharper and heavier momentum. Startled but not panicked, Duke Peter pivoted his shield to block the second strike and took a large step back to dissipate its force.

Upon blocking the first axe, Duke Peter had noticed that the gaps in Harald’s power application had decreased from seven to six, yet his strength had increased by twenty percent and his speed by ten percent. After blocking the second axe, his strength and speed increased again, and the gaps were now only five. If he continued to block seven attacks, Harald’s power would increase by 140%, his attack speed by 70%, and his offense would become perfectly seamless.

The so-called openings were actually an incredible technique to borrow force. Harald was using his opponent’s power to enhance his own combat effectiveness, and to do so, he was enduring eighty percent of Peter’s force with his own body. Only a barbarian’s physique could employ such a brutishly unreasonable technique. A Pinnacle Knight would have been injured and spitting blood by now.

Fail to block and you die. Succeed, and your opponent only grows stronger!

Duke Peter no longer wanted to clash head-on. If he took two more hits, he would be crushed; there was no other possibility. But he also understood that this power-up had a time limit. As long as he could hold out for fifteen breaths, Harald’s assault was bound to weaken.

A yellow aura suddenly expanded, enveloping Harald as well. The void earth element was itself a type of force field, not only capable of slowing an opponent’s movements but also connecting the Knight to the earth, granting a brief floating effect. Even in mid-air, he could dodge and weave, becoming exceptionally agile. Of course, this method would accelerate the consumption of his Aura, but it also meant that Duke Peter was now displaying the full strength befitting a Gold Knight, no longer holding back.

If he could hold on for a quarter of an hour, he would earn the barbarian Elder’s acknowledgment.

However, to the onlookers, Duke Peter was completely suppressed. Harald’s battleaxes drew black arcs that streaked like lightning, constantly circling him. The yellow aura was scattered and then reformed, as Duke Peter dodged the barbarian’s attacks at the very last moment, looking as if one misstep would see him cleaved in two.

Marquess Greto continuously wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. The Duke’s son, Raymond, couldn’t help but say to Andre in a trembling voice, “My lord!”

Andre glanced at the pale-faced Raymond and said gravely, “Sword!”

A Great Knight immediately tossed over a Mithril greatsword. Andre caught it by the hilt, flicked the blade, and said faintly, “Raging Dual Wield… Sophia, Elder Harald isn’t just a Weapon Master, is he?” His expression was solemn, and his gentle tone carried a chilling sharpness.

“Not understanding the barbarians is your mistake!” Sophia ignored the Gold Knight’s question and sneered at the ashen-faced Marquess Greto. “Did you think separating me from the three Urus would force me to submit? Just because Harald is old, he’s no longer a barbarian? The barbarian Elders have always been the strongest among their people! Harald is a Weapon Master, a Berserker, and also a War-chanter. He once killed an old Land Drake all by himself. He is no Urus; he is a ‘Gorsa’—a legendary hero—among the barbarians.”

Dragons had long since vanished into the mists of history, but their bloodlines lived on in the world. Any creature with “dragon” in its name was not to be trifled with, such as the Dragon-Lizard. But a Land Drake was far from being in the same league as a Dragon-Lizard. As the beasts closest to true Dragons, their strength and wisdom grew with age. Every adult Land Drake was a Gold-rank monster. That Harald was able to slay an old Land Drake meant he had already stepped into the legendary realm.

Humans knew very little about the barbarians of Mount Arreat, and even less about those in the legendary realm. If one were to make a comparison, the only reference would be a Legendary-rank Ogre.

The most famous legendary Ogre in history was Vol’gan, the “City-Breaker”!

The thought of a legendary barbarian having entered the heartland of the kingdom, with Duke Peter currently fighting him, made Marquess Greto’s legs go weak. He slumped directly onto the ground. A Great Knight simply turned and sped down the mountain, presumably to set their backup plan in motion.

“Yes. How could you possibly suppress over three hundred barbarians? Only His Excellency Harald could make the three Urus obey so meekly,” Andre said, shaking his head in frustration. He then added, “Sophia, can you ask His Excellency Harald to stop? If something happens to Peter… you will all die!”

“Do you think I fear death? Andre, you can kill me first, then try Harald’s axe. But I will certainly not sit here and wait to be slaughtered!”

Sophia drew her Mithril longsword and pointed it at Andre, a green light swirling around her body like rippling water. The steel in her eyes replaced her usual lazy charm, revealing her true nature as a Wild Knight. Even the clash between Duke Peter and the barbarian Elder could not diminish her proud, unyielding radiance.

A look of amazed admiration appeared in Andre’s cold eyes. He made an elegant salute and said softly, “Sophia, I only wish to resolve this.”

Sophia glanced back at Natalya beside her, finally lowered the tip of her sword, and shook her head. “I cannot stop this duel. This is a Trial of Blood, which only those recognized by the barbarians are qualified to undergo. I once accepted the Trial of Blood myself, hunting a Snow Monster alone on Mount Arreat. I almost died.”

“Barbarians are heavy and cannot swim. When they crossed the river, they entrusted their lives to me. Now, you want to cast me aside, so you must win their trust. To them, life can only be entrusted to the strong, because the strong have no need for tricks when dealing with barbarians.”

“Harald wouldn’t mind if you cut off his head, and the barbarians would not deny it. But I don’t recommend you all attack at once.” Sophia paused, then said, “If one of the Urus were here, there wouldn’t have been any fifteen-minute agreement. It would be a battle to the death.”

“Are you saying His Excellency Harald will hold back?” Andre asked.

“Hold back?” Sophia nodded. “Elder Harald will indeed hold back, but he will show no mercy. He won’t use his full strength, but he will certainly use power that surpasses Duke Peter’s. Otherwise, what kind of Trial of Blood would it be?”

“A Trial of Life and Death…” Andre finished, and the atmosphere instantly became heavy and oppressive.

“My lady Sophia, may I ask a question?” Raymond Peter stepped forward and asked respectfully. Looking at the refined youth, Sophia was reminded of Victor and couldn’t help but smile. “What do you want to ask, little one?” Dazzled by Sophia’s beauty, Raymond faltered for a moment before quickly composing himself. “You are a Knight, not a barbarian.”

“And so?” Sophia raised an eyebrow.

“As a Knight, you would not sit by and watch powerful barbarians destroy the Order of the human kingdoms. I’m guessing you have a way to restrain them!”

“What a clever little one,” Sophia sighed. Andre also cast an appreciative glance at Raymond.

“The Great Elder of the barbarians promised me that these barbarians would never proactively harm humans. Otherwise… I really wouldn’t have dared to bring them out.”

“If Duke Peter can’t hold on, he should just drop his sword and concede!”

“Drop my sword and concede? It’s too early for that!” Duke Peter laughed heartily. His Mithril longsword flashed in a series of crisscrossing slashes, and two crescent moons of orange-yellow light appeared out of thin air. The Gold Knight’s first counterattack forced his opponent back. Harald dropped his left-hand axe, gripped the remaining battleaxe with both hands, and shattered the void earth element with a mighty blow as his axe came crashing down like thunder. Andre’s eyes narrowed. In his Perception, the barbarian Elder’s strength had suddenly doubled, and he now possessed a strong Elemental Resistance. He had clearly used another secret technique to counter Duke Peter’s attack.

With power at this level, a shield would only be a hindrance. Duke Peter threw his away in exchange for greater flexibility, but the barbarian’s speed was no less than his own. Under the whirling light of the axe, Duke Peter’s situation became precarious.

For the first time since reaching the Pinnacle rank, Andre felt caught in a dilemma. If he entered the battlefield, he worried the barbarian Elder would unleash another burst of power and kill Peter on the spot. If he didn’t intervene, Peter might not even get a chance to surrender. Just as he was hesitating, a dignified and grand voice echoed from mid-air.

“The Lord says, let the Knight be protected!”

Platinum runes materialized in the void, coalescing into a pair of platinum wings that settled onto Duke Peter’s back, bringing with them a holy aura.

Sacred Protection, a level-five divine art tailor-made for Knights. Duke Peter’s armor shone with a platinum luster, its defense now sufficient to withstand a direct hit from a legendary barbarian. His control over the elements became more coordinated, all his attributes were significantly enhanced, and he gained the ability to heal himself. Most critically, he could finally unleash the Transcendent sword skill he had been preparing for so long.

Transcendent sword skills were immensely powerful, and once used, there was no room for retreat. Duke Peter detested uncontrollable power and had no desire to kill the barbarian Elder. If even a Transcendent sword skill couldn’t kill his opponent, then he himself would surely die.

Sacred Protection allowed Peter to easily adjust the power of the Transcendent combat skill. Although it would only last for a hundred breaths, during this time, he was a Legendary Knight.

His longsword channeled a surging power, and the yellow blade of light it drew seemed solid. This was not meant for cutting, but for repelling.

The instant the blade of light reached him, a green glow flared in Harald’s eyes. The knotted muscles on his arms bulged with veins, as if a colossal beast were awakening within his body. His chest heaved, and from his throat came an ancient, vast shout. To the others, this shout was like thunder in the heavens, but Duke Peter felt as if a giant wave had just crashed into his chest.

Amidst the shout, the blade of light from the Transcendent sword skill actually dissipated.

Duke Peter decisively dropped his sword and raised his hand. “I surrender.” Harald glared at him, a constipated look on his face. “It was just getting interesting!” With that, he slammed his axe onto the ground, and a deep crack immediately spiderwebbed out from under the axe head.

Although he hadn’t passed the barbarian’s trial, Duke Peter showed no signs of disappointment. Andre spoke with a complicated expression, “My lord Peter, congratulations. I’m afraid you will soon comprehend a second Transcendent sword skill.”

“Not everyone gets the chance to fight a legendary barbarian,” Duke Peter said, shaking his head with a delighted but wry smile. “I almost died.”

Sophia, letting out a silent breath of relief, turned her gaze to the old priest and the retinue of high-rank Sacred Warriors who had just reached the summit. “Archbishop Oleg,” she said with a mocking tone, “your timing is impeccable!”

Chapter 313: Death of a Marquess

The barbarians traveled south, crossing the river. From Mount Arreat to the Kingdom of Borea, the journey was over ten thousand kilometers long. The lords along the way were wary of the barbarians entering their lands, and Sophia had relied entirely on the Church’s mediation to reach the Kingdom of Borea smoothly.

When the contingent arrived at Red Port, Archbishop Oleg of the Kingdom of Borea personally received Sophia. He arranged for the barbarians to be settled in a valley fifteen kilometers from the port and pressured the Five Great Ruling Families, demanding they arrange for the river crossing as soon as possible.

Oleg was over seventy years old, short and stout, with a comical-looking large nose on his round face. He usually dressed simply and had an amiable, easy-going manner, showing none of the airs of an Archbishop. At this moment, however, his expression was solemn. He wore red Archbishop’s robes, a miter upon his head, and held a Mithril scepter in his hand. Several high-ranking priests and dozens of fully armed Sacred Warriors flanked him, displaying the full majesty of a national Archbishop.

Sophia had originally thought that Oleg had been deceived by the Five Great Families and was unaware of the Marquess of Ephesus’s schemes. It was only now that she understood how naive she had been. In Archbishop Oleg’s heart, she, Sophia, was simply an outsider.

An Archbishop held a revered status, equal to that of a King. If a noble from a great house were faced with the threats and temptations of an Archbishop and several Gold Knights, they might have already compromised. Unfortunately for them, Sophia, though stunningly beautiful on the outside, possessed a wild and untamable heart, brimming with a rebellious spirit that disdained all authority. anyone who dared to forcibly take what was hers was her enemy. To expect her to compromise would be less fruitful than simply killing her.

At this moment, Sophia was furious. Her true nature surfaced, and she cast aside all noble etiquette and considerations of status, openly mocking Archbishop Oleg to his face.

Oleg had come from a humble background. Decades of navigating the world had long ago given him a true understanding of faith. Why would he care about Sophia’s sarcasm? He barked at Duke Peter, “Your Majesty Peter, how can you spar with a guest who has come from so far away? This is truly impolite.” The Archbishop’s face was full of reproach, as if he hadn’t been the one to cast the fifth-tier divine art just moments ago.

“How shameless.” Sophia sheathed her sword and stared at the sky, her voice just soft enough for everyone present to hear.

Archbishop Oleg pretended not to hear her. “Sophia,” he said cordially, “Elder Harald has already begun to offer His Majesty Peter guidance in his martial skills. It seems you have already come to an agreement… Ah, wonderful! Then let’s arrange for the barbarian warriors to cross the river as soon as possible.”

Sophia sneered, but Duke Peter shook his head and said, “Marquess Sophia, our conditions will not change. As long as you join the Kingdom of Borea, the ships are at your disposal.”

“It seems my influence isn’t enough!” Archbishop Oleg’s face darkened. “Are you planning to refuse the requests of the Pope and the Inquisitor-General as well?”

Duke Peter and Andre exchanged a glance, then said in surprise, “His Holiness Clement and Lord Trigovar are gracing the Kingdom of Borea with their presence? We had no prior knowledge of this!”

“Hmph! And the First Sacred Warrior, Lord Tournans, is here as well.” Archbishop Oleg snorted in displeasure before turning to Sophia with a pleasant expression. “Sophia, I am under orders to take you to Red Port for an audience with His Holiness the Pope and the Inquisitor-General. Rest assured, His Holiness will arrange everything properly. I don’t believe the Borean Senate will go so far as to reject the suggestions of these two great lords… Peter, Andre, wouldn’t you agree?”

Duke Peter mulled it over for a moment before saying, “The affairs of the Kingdom of Borea are decided by the Senate… We should first seek an audience with His Holiness the Pope and the Inquisitor-General.”

“The Pope and the Inquisitor-General wish to see Marquess Sophia first. You may come afterward.” Oleg said with great earnestness, “Sophia, the ship is ready. The Pope and the Inquisitor-General are busy men; we mustn’t keep them waiting. Let’s depart now.”

Sophia’s brows furrowed slightly. Judging from Duke Peter’s reaction, the Kingdom of Borea was completely unprepared for the sudden visit of the Pope, the First Sacred Warrior, and the Inquisitor-General. However, whether these three powerful figures were here to support her was another question entirely.

A legendary priest, a legendary sacred warrior, and a legendary paladin arriving together—at first glance, it seemed to be a precaution against the barbarians. But upon deeper reflection, she suspected things were not so simple.

Pope Clement was, in name, the leader of all bishops and represented the conservative faction of the Church. The sixth-tier Sacred Warrior Tournans was his confidant, commanding two thousand elite Sacred Warriors. It was rumored that these two together represented the strongest fighting force of the human kingdoms. As for the legendary paladin Trigovar, he was not only the leader of the Inquisition but also the vice-commander of the Radiant Knights. He belonged to the Paladin Faction, representing the Church’s radical forces.

Their stances were different, so their opinions were bound to conflict.

Sophia couldn’t be certain of their intentions, but no matter how things developed, reuniting with the barbarians on the North Shore was the most prudent choice. Before leaving, however, she had one more score to settle.

“You were going to imprison me. Are we to just let that pass?”

“Such a thing happened?!” Archbishop Oleg looked “utterly appalled.”

“Marquess Sophia, I believe you’ve misunderstood,” Duke Peter said calmly. “We were merely inviting you to join the Kingdom of Borea. The choice was yours.”

“Is that so? It seems I really have misunderstood.” Sophia smiled faintly. “Marquess Greto, you seem to know me very well, even knowing that I raised four million Gold Sols.”

“I… I have many friends in Gambis.” Marquess Greto struggled to his feet, his magnificent ceremonial robes covered in dust. He was sweating profusely and looked utterly wretched.

“I won’t waste time beating around the bush with you. Amy May is my retainer knight. Hand her over!” Sophia commanded.

“This…” Greto’s lips trembled as he looked at Duke Peter with dread. A jolt of alarm shot through Sophia’s heart. “What did you do to Amy May?” she demanded fiercely. “If anything has happened to her, I will never let any of you go!”

Duke Peter raised his eyelids and asked coldly, “Marquess Greto, who is this knight, Amy May?”

“My lord, you… I…”

Greto trembled all over, unable to form a coherent sentence. Archbishop Oleg asked sternly, “What is going on?”

“Three months ago, Marquess Sophia’s carriage arrived at Red Port, and Marquess Greto personally received them. He subsequently claimed that the woman was an imposter, a spy from the Kingdom of Gambia sent to steal our potion formulas. Marquess Greto took it upon himself to order the execution of that female knight. We, the Five Great Families, were not aware of this beforehand. Therefore, that female knight died by Marquess Greto’s private sentence.”

Duke Peter’s voice was as cold as a blade. A chill ran down Marquess Greto’s spine. Seeing the hatred in Sophia’s eyes, he knew instantly what his fate was.

“To murder the knight of a noble is a capital crime! Marquess Greto, I will now cast the divine art of Detect Lie. Please declare to the Supreme Lord whether Duke Peter’s words are true!” Archbishop Oleg produced a white crystal, around which platinum-colored runes slowly swirled.

Marquess Greto’s face was a mixture of colors. After a long silence, he said miserably, “Duke Peter’s words are true. I did not report to the Senate before I executed the knight Amy May.” He then lifted his head and said agitatedly, “My lady Sophia, the knight Amy May was indeed a spy planted by your side by the Night Owl…”

“You’ve already killed her. You can say whatever you want now!” Sophia’s eyes were bloodshot as she spoke through gritted teeth.

“Child, no one can lie before the Supreme Lord. What Marquess Greto says is the truth.”

Oleg raised the white crystal in his hand. It was clear and translucent, not having turned blood-red. Sophia was momentarily stunned. She drew her sword again, saying hatefully, “Amy May was like a sister to me. Whether she was a spy planted by the kingdom or not, it wasn’t the Boreans’ place to execute her. Marquess Ephesus, draw your sword! I will avenge my sister.”

“You’re mad! You’re a Great Knight, and you’re challenging a Marquess of the Kingdom of Borea to a revenge duel for a spy! She was just a Knight who advanced using Vigor Potions!” Marquess Greto’s face was contorted as he pointed a trembling finger at Sophia.

“Marquess Sophia, unless you join the Kingdom of Borea, I cannot permit a Great Knight from Gambis to challenge a common noble of our kingdom!” Duke Peter blocked Sophia’s path. Seeing the barbarian Harald grip his axe, he pulled his hand back. “Marquess Greto harmed your retainer knight and will naturally face sanction.”

Archbishop Oleg interjected, “According to the terms of the New Covenant of Light, a noble who murders a knight shall be stripped of their title and sentenced to exile.”

“No! I would rather accept a revenge duel!”

Marquess Greto leaped up, drawing the decorative sword from his waist and charging at Sophia, only to be pinned in place by a Great Knight. Andre said elegantly, “Marquess Greto, allowing a common noble to accept a Knight’s challenge for revenge is a disgrace to the knights of the kingdom. You yourself said before that if you made a mistake, you would only have your reputation ruined. Now, though you have lost your title, you have at least kept your life.”

“No! No! I want to duel, I want a duel!”

Marquess Greto struggled frantically, as if he had gone mad, but the Great Knight’s arm was like an iron chain, holding him firmly in place. Greto could only shout, “I killed Amy May! Sophia, don’t you want revenge for her? Come on! Kill me! Kill me now!”

For a common noble, exile was a punishment more severe than imprisonment or death, for it meant the decline of an entire family. If the family had knightly descendants, there was at least a hope of staging a comeback. But all the knightly descendants of the Ephesus family had joined other families; for Greto to be stripped of his title meant the end of the House of Ephesus.

Greto was no longer a lofty court Marquess, but an old man seeking death for the continuation of his family. In him, Sophia saw a shadow of the old Marquess Wimbledon, and the cruelty of the great nobles sent a shiver down her spine.

If this was the fate of the Ephesus family, what would become of the Wimbledon Merchant Association? Sophia lowered her sword, her delicate face clouded with uncertainty about the future.

“My beautiful Lady Sophia, I am willing to be your champion and challenge your enemy to a revenge duel.” Raymond Peter stepped forward with his sword, his handsome face filled with adoration and fervor.

“Oh,” Sophia replied faintly, noncommittally.

Raymond turned and walked toward the center of the field, signaling the Great Knight to release Marquess Greto. Greto carefully smoothed out the creases in his clothes, accepted the decorative sword, and bowed to Duke Peter. “Your Majesty, I wish to know how the kingdom will arrange for the Ephesus family.”

“The Senate has already passed a resolution. The Ephesus Merchant Association will be dissolved. The Ephesus family will give up eighty percent of its savings in exchange for an Earldom. From this day forward, the Ephesus family will be lords of an Earldom in the Kingdom of Borea, free to recruit their own knights.”

“I am eternally grateful.” Marquess Greto breathed a sigh of relief. He pointed his sword at Raymond and shouted, “Young Master Raymond, let me see what your swordsmanship is made of!”

A breeze whispered by. A flash of light from a sword appeared and then vanished. A spot of crimson bloomed on Greto’s chest, and he slowly collapsed to the ground.

The Marquess of Ephesus had died in a champion’s revenge duel.

Raymond walked toward Sophia and knelt on one knee, offering his sword with the hilt inverted. According to etiquette, Sophia should have accepted the sword as a sign of praise, but she was in no mood to play courtship games with a nobleman’s son.

“Let’s go!”

The Sacred Warriors cleared a path. Sophia, with Natalya and Harald in tow, walked past Raymond and down the mountain, not once glancing in his direction. Raymond’s handsome face instantly flushed crimson.

Only minor nobles would engage in a champion’s duel for their desired lady. To think this could move a female knight was simply too naive. If he had killed a Great Knight, perhaps Sophia might have given him a second look.

Andre smirked faintly. There was no need to point out the obvious, and no one present would care about Raymond’s embarrassment. Archbishop Oleg sighed and said, “The Seven Great Islands are too small to accommodate a sixth family.”

“Greto acted first and reported later, essentially forcing us to support his plan. Since he failed, we could not let him off!” Duke Peter said.

“Hmph! You said you would negotiate with the barbarian elder, not that you would resort to violence.”

“We didn’t expect we would have to win a fight just to be able to talk with the barbarians,” Duke Peter said with a wry smile, shaking his head. He then added, “Your Excellency, Marquess Greto’s death should be enough to answer to His Holiness the Pope, shouldn’t it?”

“It is Lord Inquisitor-General who is in a hurry to send the barbarians away. His Holiness the Pope is here to back us up.”

“That’s good.” Duke Peter nodded, while Andre smiled and said, “In that case, we can continue to maintain the kingdom’s stance.”

“It’s not that simple.” Archbishop Oleg shook his head. “The barbarians coming south is both an opportunity and a problem. The Sasan Empire is worried we will anger the tribes on the mountain… I think it’s more realistic for you to try and win Sophia over.”

“Sophia doesn’t play by the rules. It’s a real headache.”

“That is your business… I have done what I was supposed to do. As per our agreement, please prepare the ships and ensure the barbarians can cross the river at any time.” With that, the Archbishop and his retinue of clergy headed for the port down the mountain. He still had to take Sophia for her audience with the Pope.

Andre watched the Archbishop walk away before saying, “Raymond will oversee the Ephesus Merchant Association for now. My lord Duke, do not forget your promise either.”

“Of course.” Duke Peter nodded. “I will announce the formula and source of the Restoration Potion to the other four families shortly.”

“Then, I shall take my leave.” Andre turned and departed, disappearing over the mountain ridge in a matter of moments. Only then did Duke Peter turn to his eldest son. “Raymond, we need to talk.”

“Yes, Father.”

Chapter 314: Redbeard

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Ogar Island and the Southern Continent’s barbarians faced each other across the strait. This island, over nineteen thousand square kilometers in size, was both the Kingdom of Borea’s forward base for colonizing the Southern Continent and its first line of defense against the barbarians. The Five Great Families had each built a fortress on Ogar Island and stationed four thousand elite soldiers there, all under the command of the ruling family, who was responsible for the island’s security. Military operations to raid the southern barbarians were primarily undertaken by the ruling family.

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Eltzburg was the Peter family’s garrison on Ogar Island. During their time as the ruling family of the Kingdom of Borea, their high-end combat forces were all gathered here.

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Today, the defenses at Eltzburg were exceptionally tight. Fully armed guards patrolled without pause, elite swordsmen were posted every five steps and sentries every three. Two noble Knights personally guarded the corridor leading to the castle’s main hall, permitting no one to approach.

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The doors and windows of the great hall were shut tight, and hundreds of lizard-oil candles blazed brightly within. The upper echelon of the Peter family sat around a long table. An old scholar with a white beard and hair held up a vial of a potion as red as fresh blood and addressed the assembly. “I have carefully studied the formula for the Bloodboil Potion. After thirty-seven experiments and improving six effective formulas, I have replaced a total of twenty-seven medicinal herbs, including substituting Calisus Grass for Stone-heather, and Bluespirit Mushroom for Blueheart Leaf. Regrettably, I have still been unable to find a substitute for the main ingredient…”

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“Respected Master Severin, I don’t mean to interrupt…” A middle-aged Knight in Mithril armor stood up and asked with an apologetic smile, “But I don’t understand a single thing you’re saying, and I doubt anyone else here does either. Dear Uncle Severin, was the improvement of the Bloodboil Potion successful or not?”

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The Peter family’s Chief Potion-maker shot his nephew a fierce glare before shaking his head with some embarrassment. “The original formula Raymond provided is practically perfect. No matter how I modify it, I cannot achieve the original effects. Instead, the cost of the ingredients has risen considerably… It is truly worthy of being a formula left behind by the Chosen.”

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Another Great Knight frowned. “It doesn’t seem very useful… The strength enhancement of the Bloodboil Potion can’t compare to a berserk potion. Although its production cost is slightly cheaper, the main ingredient requires the spinal fluid of Gnolls or canids… and those creatures with their keen sense of smell are not easy to catch.”

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“Gilda, what do you know! No potion has any effect on you Knights, so what right do you have to critique such a magnificent potion formula!” The old Potion-maker pointed at Viscount Gilda and shouted indignantly, “An able-bodied farmer can lift a thousand pounds. An elite soldier is one and a half times stronger than an ordinary person and can carry a weight of fifteen hundred pounds. This is the limit for ordinary people. Anything beyond this limit belongs to the extraordinary realm. For a soldier to reach the extraordinary level, they must rely on either divine arts or potions.”

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“Exactly! A berserk potion can increase a soldier’s strength by more than sixty percent, while the Bloodboil Potion can only manage thirty percent at best. However, the side effects of a berserk potion are terrifying. The immense strength and berserk will make soldiers expend their stamina recklessly. Even with the support of divine arts, they can only last for an hour and a half at most before falling into a state of weakness where they are at the mercy of others, unable to even hold a sword. Most fatally, soldiers who take a berserk potion completely lose their sense of pain. They don’t know how to avoid vital spots in battle and end up dying for reasons they don’t understand… The berserk potion is practically a suicide potion!”

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“I don’t need to tell any of you how difficult it is to train an Elite Soldier.”

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“But the Bloodboil Potion is different!”

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“The strength enhancement is merely a side effect of this potion. It is, in fact, the only potion currently known to enhance Perception! Alright, the Bloodboil Potion increases a soldier’s strength by thirty percent and reaction speed by fifty percent. It deadens pain, and while it induces Bloodlust, it doesn’t cause a loss of reason. The effects last for at least two hours. After the potion wears off, the soldier still retains sixty percent of their stamina and can take it again after five hours of rest.”

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“Everyone, not every knight squad raiding the barbarians is accompanied by a battle priest. Since our Peter family took power, how many of our family’s soldiers have died at the hands of the barbarians? This magnificent potion can help more of our warriors survive! And we have little Raymond to thank for all of this.”

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The old scholar’s in-depth explanation of the Bloodboil Potion moved even the Great Knights. Duke Peter looked around and asked, “Master Severin, what about the modified formula?”

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“The strength enhancement is increased, but the perception enhancement is reduced. The seven supplementary ingredients have become fifteen, and the production cost has nearly doubled…” The old scholar shook his head with a wry smile. “This isn’t an improvement, it’s a degradation!”

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“Concealing the original formula is the greatest success!” Duke Peter said with a smile.

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“That is true.” Severin nodded with a smile, saying confidently, “Even that old fellow Tacitus shouldn’t be able to deduce the original formula without thousands of experiments!”

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The five Great Knights present at the meeting nodded in agreement. As long as they guarded the secret of the original formula, the Peter family would hold the advantage. The weakened formula, on the other hand, could be used to trade for benefits.

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“What about the other two potions Raymond provided?” Great Knight Gilda asked eagerly.

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Raymond Peter took a step forward and said politely, “Uncle Gilda, please take a look at the napkin in front of you.”

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Gilda looked down at the napkin on the table. It was woven from a blend of wool and fine linen, with exquisite materials and fine craftsmanship, but there was nothing particularly special about it. However, its color was not the usual white, but the same reddish-brown as the dining table. Gilda picked up the napkin to examine it closely and was amazed to find that the reddish-brown napkin gradually turned silver-white, a perfect match for the color of his Mithril gauntlets.

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“This is practically Wizardry!”

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Everyone, including Duke Peter, picked up their own napkins, observing the color changes against different backgrounds.

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“The modern script is a direct descendant of the script from the Era of the Chosen. Although there are regional differences in writing, we can still translate them. According to the stone slab Raymond provided, this potion is called a color-changing dye.” Master Severin wrapped the napkin around a golden coffee cup, waited for it to turn orange, and then continued, “The formula for the color-changing dye cannot be modified in any way. Its main ingredient is the blood of shadow spiders from the Great Marsh, and the supplementary ingredients are also common marsh plants. As for its effectiveness and value… I need not say more!”

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Gilda played with the color-changing napkin, unable to put it down. He murmured, “With this color-changing dye, our operations on the South Shore will be much more covert, and the probability of a successful raid will be much higher.”

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“And assassinations will become more lethal!” another Great Knight said grimly. “Its applications are not limited to military operations on the South Shore; it has much broader uses.” With that, he stood up, bowed to Duke Peter, and said, “My lord, the formula for the color-changing dye must not be leaked!”

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Must not be leaked? That meant silencing someone by killing them.

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The Peter family’s High-ranked Knights broke into a flurry of discussion, their words all supporting Jorne’s suggestion. Duke Peter exchanged a glance with Raymond and smiled. “Everyone, please calm down. I know you are all anticipating the effects of the final potion.” The Duke flicked his finger, and the violet-gold bell on the table let out a pleasant chime. The great hall’s wooden doors were pulled open, and two tall, valiant-looking nobles walked in. One appeared to be around thirty years old, the other a youth of eighteen or nineteen. The gazes of the five High-ranked Knights made them pause for a moment before they bowed to the family’s leadership.

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“Gerhardt, you’ve really advanced to Knight! Good… truly good! Excellent!” One of the Great Knights shot up from his seat, repeating the word “good” three times. The more mature-looking noble trembled slightly with excitement. “Yes, Father… I have finally become a Knight.”

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“Earl Nikolai, congratulations on adding another Knight to your family.” Duke Peter first nodded to the Great Knight Nikolai, then turned to his son. “Gerhardt, congratulations on your successful advancement as well. I will send a gift later. For now, we would like to know how many Restoration Potions you took in total.”

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“Honored Master, I will forever remember your kindness.” Gerhardt performed a respectful Knight’s salute, then raised his head and said, “As you all know, I had previously taken ten Vigor Potions but failed to resonate with the twelve bottom-level Elemental Nodes. I thought I would remain an apprentice knight for the rest of my life. It was My lord Duke’s Restoration Potion that changed my destiny!”

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“For this advancement, I took a total of seven Restoration Potions. In truth, I had already succeeded after taking the very first one. The Aura stimulated by the Restoration Potion is not volatile and difficult to control like the one from Vigor Potions. It is no different from my own Aura—lively yet gentle, moving with my will as easily as a limb. Under the continuous, unending surge of Aura, my dimmest wind element node was lit.”

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“However, that wasn’t the end. Over the next three months, under Master Severin’s guidance, I took seven more Restoration Potions. I resonated with five of my twelve mid-level elemental nodes. If I had enough Restoration Potions, I might not be able to resonate with the twenty-fifth elemental node to become a Great Knight, but I could definitely become a senior knight who has resonated with twenty-four elemental nodes!”

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“That’s impossible!” Great Knight Gilda couldn’t help but cry out.

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The more Elemental Nodes a Knight resonated with, the stronger they were. However, any Knight who advanced by relying on cleansing potions and Vigor Potions could never resonate with more Elemental Nodes. They had no potential for further growth and could only be initial-rank apprentice knights or Knights. If what Gerhardt said was true, the effects of the Restoration Potion were nothing short of a miracle.

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At a signal from Duke Peter, Gerhardt silently circulated his Aura. As a Silver Knight attuned to the void element, the extraordinary knights of the Peter family naturally perceived that Gerhardt had resonated with seventeen Elemental Nodes. An eerie silence instantly fell over the meeting room.

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The advent of the Restoration Potion would greatly enhance the family’s strength and would also change the existing power structure.

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Knights with weaker bloodlines could now advance just by drinking potions. What did that make the Great Knights who had advanced naturally? And how were they to balance the new powers rising within the family?

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Master Severin saw the anxiety and uncertainty of the family’s Great Knights. He smiled faintly and pointed to the young noble. “Akim, eighteen years old, a scion of the Hoffman family from the Eastern Alliance. His knight’s bloodline is extremely thin. He had to take nine top-tier cleansing potions just to awaken his Aura. Subsequently, he took seventeen Restoration Potions and resonated with eleven Elemental Nodes, but the final wind element node remains completely inert. This proves that the Restoration Potion cannot help a Knight surpass the limits of their bloodline.”

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The five Great Knights remained outwardly impassive, but the tense atmosphere relaxed. Severin’s nephew asked with a smile, “Oh, what a shame… Uncle, why did that happen?”

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Master Severin shot him an annoyed look. “The quality and quantity of one’s Aura, as well as the Elemental Nodes, are all related to one’s bloodline. A high-bloodline Knight’s Aura is like a lake, while a low-bloodline Knight’s Aura is like a water tank. It is naturally effortless to use the water from a lake to flush the Elemental Nodes. But a water tank can only hold so much water, so how many Elemental Nodes can it resonate with? The Aura stimulated by the Restoration Potion is balanced across all four elements, but the first vial has the best effect. The second is half as effective, the third is halved again, and the fourth is useless. Therefore, one can only take three vials consecutively per day. The water tank isn’t even filled twice, so the total amount is still limited. But it is still countless times better than a Vigor Potion!” Master Severin frowned and added, “Have none of you realized the true purpose of the Restoration Potion?”

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The High-ranked Knights of the Peter family were startled. They cast questioning glances at Duke Peter, who gave a slight nod. “It has already been tested. The Restoration Potion can replenish a Knight’s Aura during battle. This is a combat potion exclusively for Knights! It means that we High-ranked Knights will possess more sustained burst power.”

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Great Knight Gilda lowered his eyelids and gripped the Mithril dagger at his waist. Duke Peter tapped the table and said, “The Restoration Potion must be shared with the other four Great Families!” Gilda released his dagger and barked at the young noble scion, “You’re lucky, kid!”

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Young Akim, completely unaware that he had just skirted the gates of hell, bowed delightedly. “Thank you for your cultivation, My lord. I swear my loyalty to the Peter family!”

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Duke Peter nodded and commanded, “Gerhardt, take Akim down to rest.”

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“As you command, my Master.” Gerhardt and Akim bowed in unison. Gerhardt then put an arm around Akim’s shoulders and led him out. “Let’s go, lucky Akim.”

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The great doors closed once more. Duke Peter pondered for a moment before asking, “Master Severin, as far as I know, Potion-making evolved from the Chosen’s potion-craft. Since the Restoration Potion is a legacy of the Chosen, why doesn’t it require Wizardry to create, like their other potions? And why have I never heard of its name?”

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“Are you asking if other families might possess the Restoration Potion?”

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Duke Peter nodded slightly. Master Severin thought for a moment, then shook his head. “I really can’t say for sure. The Church has hidden too many historical truths. Perhaps the Church didn’t want to see the Knight-Nobles’ strength increase so dramatically, or perhaps the Chosen deliberately suppressed the potential of the City-state knights. Or maybe the Restoration Potion was developed just before the Chosen were overthrown… I think the origin of these three potions might give us some clues.”

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Peter turned and instructed, “Raymond, these three potions are of grave importance. Tell the lords present about their origin.”

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“Yes, Father.” Raymond stood up and said, “Three years ago, I made a mistake…”

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“Be more specific,” Duke Peter said flatly.

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Seeing his father’s unequivocal expression, Raymond gritted his teeth and continued, “A little over three years ago, I foolishly believed a rumor from my steward that reducing the number of nobles with elven bloodline could awaken the Sword Saint bloodline. I sent men to assassinate nobles with elven bloodline, which resulted in a terrible mistake. Father stripped me of my inheritance rights, and the gang leader who carried out the work for me fled. His name is Redbeard, and he is the leader of the Bloody Hand Brotherhood. Ten months ago, Redbeard snuck onto Ogar Island. He contacted me and brought three ancient stone slabs. He hoped to trade these ancient documents for a chance to live. According to him, the Bloody Hand Brotherhood found these slabs in a village near the Nidam Great Marsh. That village subsisted on gathering produce from the marsh.” He paused, then added, “There were no survivors in the village.”

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“A mere gang leader managed to infiltrate Ogar Island? Does he have such great ability? And the courage to walk right into a trap? If so, why didn’t Redbeard take the stone slabs and seek refuge with the Kingdom of Sus?” Master Severin stroked his beard and asked, puzzled.

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The Great Knights exchanged glances. The eldest among them, Earl Nikolai, cleared his throat and explained, “Master, the gangs in the five port cities on the North Shore of the Kingdom of Borea are as numerous as ox hairs. The most influential among them is a thieves’ guild called the Masked Brotherhood.”

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“The Masked Brotherhood’s history is as long as our Kingdom of Borea’s. Initially, it was a refugee organization supported by the Hosmoen family, specifically responsible for doing their dirty work. Later, all Five Great Families secretly got involved with the Masked Brotherhood. The thieves’ guild maneuvered between the Five Families and, in doing so, grew stronger. Gradually, even the Kingdom of Sus and the Church’s Inquisition developed intricate ties with the Masked Brotherhood. Now, its tentacles extend into every facet of the Kingdom of Borea, and even the Eastern Alliance. The Bloody Hand Brotherhood is a member of the Masked Brotherhood. It would have been an easy matter for Redbeard to use the Masked Brotherhood’s power to infiltrate Ogar Island.”

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“As for why Redbeard dared to come here to what could be his death… The Bloody Hand Brotherhood has always been a trusted subordinate of our Peter family. Redbeard knew full well that if he gave the ancient documents to any other power, he would be silenced. He only has a sliver of a chance at survival by giving the stone slabs to us, the Peter family. Moreover, the Masked Brotherhood has a rule: they do their best to cooperate with the ruling family. With the Peter family in power, the affairs of the Masked Brotherhood are naturally decided by the Bloody Hand.”

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“Even lowly refugees yearn for power. A desperado like Redbeard certainly knows how to choose.”

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Earl Nikolai continued, “Raymond, you should understand now. You secretly ordered the Bloody Hand Brotherhood to assassinate nobles with elven bloodline, and it happened to coincide with the Red Port Wizard incident. The religious inquisition uncovered your identity through the Masked Brotherhood, and the Queen of Sus also found out you killed her lover. Her Majesty Elayanuo presented an unacceptable condition to Lord Peter. It was to protect you that he stripped you of your inheritance and placed you on Ogar Island.”

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Great Knight Gilda also chimed in, “Every noble with elven bloodline has a great noble backing them. You lost your inheritance because you assassinated the Queen of Sus’s lover. If you had killed the Queen of Roses’s paramour, I fear our Peter family would have faced annihilation.”

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“Could the Queen of Roses breach South Wind Fortress all by herself?” Raymond scoffed and retorted in disbelief.

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“Indeed, she could not. But we would never be able to leave!” Master Severin sighed. “Even if we never left the fortress, could you make the High-ranked Knights of the other families never leave their castles? Would they dare offend a Spirit Knight? A Spirit Knight’s martial power is far less than her influence, and that influence is enough to shatter the balance of the Five Great Families. Even the Kingdom of Sus would go with the flow and help turn the Five Great Families into four.”

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“A Spirit Knight can actually suppress the Five Great Families?”

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“No. But we and the York family would both pay a terrible price,” Duke Peter said. “However, in front of a Spirit Knight, even a Pinnacle Knight or a Legendary Knight would not have the ability to escape! Back then, the Ironmountain Empress might well have been able to kill the City-Breaker Vol’gan, but Sword Saint Draven did not wish for his lover to take the risk. Raymond, you must remember this: the dignity of a Spirit Knight is not to be offended. Forget that ridiculous rumor. That is how you will live a long life.”

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“Yes, Father. I will be sure to remember your admonition.” Raymond lowered his head. He had no doubt about Duke Peter’s will, but his heart was screaming: “That person stole the power that belongs to me!”

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“I have a question,” Earl Nikolai asked. “The Bloodboil Potion enhances the combat power of soldiers, the Restoration Potion enhances the combat power of Knights, and the color-changing dye improves the survival ability of knight squads. These three potions seem almost tailor-made for our Kingdom of Borea… Isn’t this too much of a coincidence?”

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“It is precisely because it’s a coincidence that it seems natural,” Duke Peter said with a nod. “Redbeard would not fail to see such an obvious coincidence. The fact that he dared to bring the stone slabs to us shows that he is not privy to the full story. Therefore, killing him to silence him would be pointless; keeping him alive might lead us to the truth. Moreover, we cannot refuse the Restoration Potion, nor can any single family monopolize it. Benefits that exceed one’s own capacity will only crush a family. We must understand the meaning of compromise and alliance, otherwise the tragedy of the Ephesus and Wimbledon families will be repeated with us.”

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“You are right, My lord!” Earl Nikolai said respectfully. “Once the Restoration Potion is put to use, its secret cannot be kept. Only by uniting can the Five Great Families withstand external pressure, and then we can calmly exchange the Restoration Potion for benefits. I now believe that Redbeard obtaining the ancient stone slabs was truly a coincidence.”

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“My lord Earl, why do you think so?” Raymond asked in surprise.

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Earl Nikolai smiled. “No matter how powerful a refugee organization becomes, it cannot threaten the status of the Knight-Nobles. This is because our strength comes from the Elemental Sea and is rooted in our bloodlines. Just as we cannot refuse the Restoration Potion, commoners cannot refuse the chance to become nobles. With just a nod from us, the leaders of the refugee organizations would immediately flock to our side… Of course, they would also flock to the Church. It is extraordinary power that is the reason the Knights and the Church rule over the masses together.”

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“If a Knight-Noble were behind Redbeard, why would he need to come to us for help? And if it wasn’t a Knight-Noble, what do we have to worry about?”

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“Alright.” Duke Peter waved his hand and said, “Seven of the key ingredients for the Restoration Potion are specialty products of the barbarians. The problem comes back to Sophia.”

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“How should we deal with this troublesome Wild Knight?”

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Behind Redbeard was a shadow.

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Chapter 315: The Pope’s Worries

Alexandria Port and Aixlibor Island faced each other across the water.

More than six hundred and eighty years ago, the founder of the Kingdom of Borea, the explorer Baron Aixlibor, broke through the Fishmen blockade from this very spot and landed on the great island opposite, thus beginning the war between the Five Great Families and the riverbank Fishmen.

When the blood of Fishmen and humans had stained the riverbanks red, the Five Great Families finally established Alexandria Port. To commemorate the warriors who sacrificed their lives in the war of the nation’s founding, Alexandria Port was also known as Red Port.

Today, Red Port has become the most prosperous port city in the south, with a permanent population of no less than three hundred thousand. The vast majority are undocumented refugee laborers, who also happen to be rather devout believers.

It is no easy task for the clergy to shepherd so many faithful. The Church has established twenty-seven churches of various sizes and three monasteries in Red Port. The churches preside over church affairs and offer salvation to believers, while the monasteries are responsible for training church attendants and novice priests to compensate for the shortage of clergy.

St. Gallen Monastery was located near a valley, fifteen kilometers west of Red Port. Here, far from the hustle and bustle of the city, the monks of the monastery guided several hundred church attendants. They read the classics, studied doctrine, learned agriculture, animal husbandry, and medical knowledge, cared for the gravely ill, and managed a medicinal herb garden of several thousand mu, producing various types of potions for the churches of Red Port.

At dawn in the Season of Earth, the air was fresh and pleasant. A gurgling stream wound its way out of the valley, flowing slowly through a crisscrossing network of channels. The sweet stream water constantly nourished the surrounding medicinal fields, where hoppergrass, angelica, orchid parsley, chicory, and mint all sprouted tender green shoots. At the center of the fields, a laurel hedge encircled the white walls of the monastery but could not hide its tall bell tower. In the light of the morning sun, St. Gallen Monastery appeared serene and sacred.

The far-reaching chimes of the bell rang six times, signaling the end of morning prayer. Young church attendants left the monastery one by one, carrying baskets on their backs and hoes on their shoulders, heading to the fields to begin their day of hard labor.

Two Sacred Warriors clad in rhinoceros-hide armor walked up to a small cottage, knocked on the door, and said, “Lady Sophia, His Holiness the Pope and the Inquisitor-General are waiting for you.”

The wooden door was pushed open from the inside, and a peerless beauty of graceful stature emerged. She smiled faintly and said, “Masters, please lead the way.”

The voyage by ship from Ogar Island directly to Red Port should have taken only ten days. But Harald hated ships, and he hated water even more. He insisted on crossing every island along the way, and by the time Sophia returned to the valley where the barbarians were encamped, it was the evening of the seventeenth day.

Sophia did not rush to seek an audience with His Holiness. She needed some time to think of a counter-strategy. However, the barbarians had heard of the changes on Ogar Island and were all cheerfully packing their things, preparing to return to Mount Arreat. In truth, these barbarians were reluctant to leave the Holy Mountain and had no desire to cross the river south. But right now, they were undoubtedly Sophia’s greatest asset. Once the barbarians returned to Mount Arreat, all of Sophia’s efforts would be for naught, and her situation would become extremely perilous. Fortunately, Harald did not believe Sophia’s mission had failed. He knocked three howling Urus to the ground, and only then did the barbarians quiet down.

Sophia convened the core members of the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild and discussed for half the night, but still came up empty-handed. She had no choice but to rush to St. Gallen Monastery overnight for an audience with the Pope and the Inquisitor-General.

Passing through the cloister, Sophia arrived before the monastery’s great hall. The two Sacred Warriors leading the way pushed open the large doors and gestured for her to enter.

Inside the great hall sat three men, each with a different temperament. The one in the center wore a long, pure white robe and looked to be in his forties. He had a high forehead, handsome features, and a pair of clear eyes that shone with the wisdom to see into people’s hearts and a hint of world-weariness. To Sophia’s surprise, she sensed the elemental balance unique to a Knight in this man.

“I am Clement, a priest.” The man seemed to see through Sophia’s confusion. He spoke gently, “I am also a Knight, one who advanced by relying on Vigor Potions.” With that, he smiled again. “By the grace of the Lord, I was bestowed with Life Extension, which is why I appear young.”

Rumors about the current Pope’s origins had long circulated among the great noble families. Although Clement was an abandoned infant taken in by a Church poorhouse, everyone believed that noble blood flowed in his veins. As for Life Extension, it was a divine art common to all sixth-rank clergy.

Sophia hesitated no more. Just as she was about to curtsy in greeting, the man seated to the Pope’s left suddenly spoke. “Marquess Wimbledon, there is no need for excessive courtesy. Knights are favored by Our Lord, and Our Lord shows Knights the way. Sophia, are you willing to act according to the teachings of Our Lord?”

This man appeared to be in his thirties. He had thin lips, a nose like a hawk’s beak, and an aura as sharp as a blade that even his magnificent, stately armor of light could not conceal. Just sitting there, he exuded a sense of weight as heavy as a mountain, as if he were the center of the entire hall. This was the outward sign of a Gold Knight of the Earth’s affinity for the earth element.

Sophia immediately knew the man’s identity.

Lestar Trigovar, a Gold Knight, a level-four Paladin, the current leader of the Trigovar family, the vice-commander of the Radiant Knights, and the Chief Officer of the religious inquisition.

The Trigovar family had presided over the Inquisition for over two thousand years. Their fearsome reputation was forged from the blood of Wizards and the innocent, and not a few Nobles had been suppressed and arrested by the Inquisition.

In terms of both power and strength, Lestar Trigovar could be considered one of the foremost figures of the current era. But his aggressive tone displeased Sophia. Before she could speak, however, the bald, stout man to the Pope’s right rebuked him first. “Lord Trigovar, you are in the presence of the Pope. Do not be impudent!” His deep voice boomed like a bell, making one’s eardrums buzz and shattering the solemn atmosphere the Inquisitor-General had painstakingly created.

A trace of helplessness flashed through Trigovar’s narrow eyes. He inclined his head slightly. “Your Holiness. I was rude.”

“Lestar, don’t take it to heart. You know Tournans is a dull fellow with a blunt temper,” the Pope said with an apologetic smile, then shot a glare at the bald man. The bald Sacred Warrior, clad in Earth Dragon hide armor, merely shrugged with an innocent look on his face.

Tournans was dark-skinned, with no hair or eyebrows. He was the Commander of the Sacred Warriors of the Curia, the most renowned Ferocious Warrior of his time, and one of the few sixth-rank Sacred Warriors. Sylvia had once sparred with Tournans in public. Neither went all out, and the match ended in a draw. Afterward, Tournans admitted he was no match for Sylvia, but Sylvia claimed that Tournans’s strength surpassed that of a legendary paladin and that he was the Church’s First Sacred Warrior.

Due to the difficulty in sustaining divine arts, the standard for measuring a legendary Sacred Warrior was hard to determine. However, a Spirit Knight stood above all others, and Sylvia’s personal praise cemented Tournans’s status as a legendary Sacred Warrior. As for how many challenges Tournans had faced within the Church, outsiders had no way of knowing, but judging from Trigovar’s reaction, his strength was undoubtedly recognized by the Radiant Knights.

The Paladin’s helplessness, the Pope’s nonchalance, and the Sacred Warrior’s innocence were all seen by Sophia. The little bit of discord among the three great figures made her feel a strange sense of ease.

“Sophia, I am seventy-two years old this year. May I call you by your first name?” Clement regained the initiative, seeming to be in a good mood.

Sophia lifted the hem of her skirt and curtsied gracefully. “It would be my honor, Your Holiness.”

Clement nodded in satisfaction and asked, “Did Elder Harald not accompany you?”

“The Elder… he was not interested.” Sophia hesitated for a moment before saying, “The barbarians all want to return to Mount Arreat. Elder Harald is currently… persuading them.”

“Persuading? That must be quite a sight.” The Pope smiled, then his expression turned serious. “Sophia, do you understand the purpose of the barbarians crossing the river to the south? This is a very important question. I hope you will not hide anything.”

“I am not sure. The barbarians refuse to speak of their destination, and I will not try to probe them. However… as far as I know, it involves one of their prophecies.” Sophia thought for a moment and said, “Your Holiness, I have already reported my detailed experiences on Mount Arreat to Lord Flides. It was with his approval and help that I led the barbarians south.”

Flides, a level-six priest, was second only to Clement in the Curia. He was a core member of the Radiant Knights and commanded the priests of the Sasan Empire and the Great Plains.

Inquisitor-General Trigovar gave a slight nod. Clement turned his gaze back to Sophia, deliberated for a moment, and then said, “Seven thousand five hundred and sixty-nine years ago, the first Pope, with the assistance of the Knights, led the martyrs of the Church to completely overthrow the tyranny of the Wizards. However, post-war production stagnated, and feeding the populace became a problem. At that time, most of the Church’s upper echelons came from backgrounds as farmers, merchants, and common townsfolk. They did not know how to run a city-state or how to govern the people. The people lived in hardship, and society was in turmoil. Thus, His Majesty Inoc established the Radiant Codex, establishing the principle of protection by the Knights, salvation by the Church, and devotion from the people.”

“I have to say, the wisdom and power of the Knights far surpassed those of ordinary mortals. They restored the former prosperity of the various city-states. As society progressed, the Church also grew. A new generation of clergy sought to play a greater role, which also led to conflict between the nobility and the Church. Then, the beastmen, who had been barely surviving in the polar regions, returned…”

Clement sighed and continued, “As much as I hate to admit it, history is history. That was the darkest era for the Church and the nobility. Faced with the advance of the other races, the proud Knights and the equally proud clergy failed to unite. The city-states of the north fell one by one, and the power of the beastmen grew day by day. By the time everyone realized what was happening, it was too late.”

“The war never stopped. With the fall of the Iron Mountain Empire, we essentially lost the entire north. Fortunately, in the process of resisting the beastmen, the clergy and the Knights united, and our relationship became much closer. If only we had realized the meaning of unity sooner, we would not have fallen to our current circumstances.”

Clement was silent for a moment before saying, “I am telling you this in the hope that you will not blame Archbishop Oleg for his partiality towards the Five Great Families. He lives in the Kingdom of Borea and loves this land more than anyone, but he has never violated the tenets of the Church.”

“I understand,” Sophia said softly, her eyes downcast.

Understanding did not mean forgiveness, especially when one had been schemed against.

A flicker of almost imperceptible disappointment crossed Clement’s eyes. He then raised his voice. “The Kingdom of Borea has its own position. I ask you now, if I personally accompany the barbarians across the river, would you agree to split the trade share of Mount Arreat evenly with the Five Great Families?”

The Pope’s goodwill shocked and moved Sophia, but at the same time, she felt immense pressure.

Clement’s authority was second only to the Grand Commander of the Radiant Knights. To refuse his goodwill was to offend the entire Church. But the death of Marquess Ephesus was a bloody example. So what if she saw the barbarians off? So what if she split the trade share? If she didn’t give up her merchant association, would the Gambis Royal Family let her go? If she gave up the association, what meaning would her perseverance, her efforts, and her sacrifices have? No! I will never compromise! I have walked here over thorns, and I will not retreat even if a bottomless abyss lies before me! I am Sophia.

With this thought, Sophia no longer hesitated. She curtsied and said, “I refuse.”

Just as he expected! Clement remained outwardly calm and asked faintly, “Why?”

“Your Holiness, the truth is, the barbarians do not wish to leave Mount Arreat…”

“Excuses!” Trigovar pointed out bluntly. “Sophia, all Gold Knights must be clear about their own path, and you have chosen a dead end! When you considered the Auguste family, did you think about the Sasan Empire’s attitude? The lords of Sasan will not permit a powerful barbarian tribe to ally with a southern kingdom! This is not a game you can participate in. Getting involved will only get you crushed to pieces.”

“What are you two talking about?” the First Sacred Warrior asked, his eyes wide with curiosity.

Trigovar ignored Tournans and continued speaking to Sophia, “Sophia, joining the Kingdom of Borea is your best choice. It is not too late for you to turn back now. I am certain that with your talent and character, you will one day be able to reach the peak. Before that, you must find the right path.”

“What… are you talking about?!” The First Sacred Warrior’s eyes were wide as saucers as he asked through gritted teeth.

Clement placed a hand on Tournans’s, signaling him to be patient, and asked, “Sophia, is there a time limit for the barbarians’ task of crossing the river?”

“Twenty years,” Sophia said with a smile. “Elder Harald told me that if I cannot get them to the South Shore within twenty years, they will return to Mount Arreat.”

“Twenty years… aIright, I understand.” Clement nodded. “I guarantee that the barbarians can cross the river from the Seven Great Islands at any time. In addition, I have a suggestion.”

Sophia gave Clement a deep look and nodded. “Your Holiness, please show me the way.”

“Take the barbarians to the Centaur Hills!” the Pope said with a smile. “I’m afraid you don’t know yet, but your husband, Viscount Randell, has built a sluice gate on the bank of the Goldwater River. It’s only seventeen kilometers from the south bank of the Goldwater River. Using the sluice gate’s structure, you can build a port and then ferry the barbarians to the South Shore.”

“Really!” Sophia’s beautiful eyes lit up as she exclaimed in pleasant surprise, “Your Holiness, thank you for your guidance. I will remember your kindness in my heart.” Sophia knelt on one knee and said solemnly, “I promise you here that I will abide by the principle of the merchant association’s neutrality, never participate in the struggles between kingdoms, and certainly not use the barbarians’ power to disrupt the balance between the various parties! May the supreme Lord of Radiance witness my oath. If I break it, I am willing to accept the judgment of the Inquisition!”

Trigovar’s expression softened slightly, and Clement also said with gratification, “Then you may go back and make your preparations. I will be attending the martial tournament hosted by the York family in the second month of the Season of Fire. It is not easy to travel nine thousand kilometers in six months, so I must depart this afternoon.”

“Yes. I will go back and prepare now. I will take my leave, my lords.” Sophia curtsied and hurriedly left the monastery’s great hall.

“What a pretty lass. I like her,” Tournans said with a grin.

Trigovar frowned and said, “Your Holiness. Placing a legendary barbarian and three Gold-rank barbarian berserkers in the Centaur Hills is somewhat inappropriate. I’m afraid the Kingdom of Gambia and Her Highness Sylvia will not agree.”

“No need to worry. Tournans and I together can defeat the barbarian Elder.”

The First Sacred Warrior puffed out his mighty chest and said, “Yes. I am very sure we can defeat him!”

“Defeat a legendary barbarian? Alright… Tournans, I believe in your strength. But how much do you know about legendary barbarians?”

Trigovar shook his head helplessly. “Back then, a legendary paladin coordinating with a Cardinal also had the strength to defeat Vol’gan the City-Breaker. But what was the result? A legendary ogre might not be able to defeat a Paladin at their peak, but can’t it run away? When the divine arts wore off, it bludgeoned two legendary paladins to death! A battle is not a tournament. Only when you can prevent it from even escaping, like Sword Saint Draven did, can you call it a defeat!”

“Force is only a necessary preparation. Barbarians are different from Ogres. They keep their promises and can coexist peacefully with humans. The fact that Elder Harald suppressed his wrathful power and did not kill Duke Peter is clear proof,” Clement said.

“Barbarians never leave Mount Arreat! But didn’t they leave? Tradition has been broken, and promises are shaky.” Trigovar paused, then said, “An individual’s strength, no matter how great, is ultimately limited. Vol’gan seems invincible because he rules the beastmen of the north. And the barbarians are not without their own clan power. One barbarian elder is a legendary berserker. How many legendary barbarians are there on Mount Arreat? Sophia did indeed swear an oath before Our Lord, but you know the methods of those great nobles… If they succeed in winning over or provoking the barbarians, the Sasan Empire will bear the brunt. Our main force is currently engaged with the Centaurs. Although we have gained some advantage, we absolutely cannot withstand the impact of the mountain tribes. If the Sasan Empire collapses, the consequences will be unimaginable! Your arrangement will also…”

“Inquisitor-General, do not forget your identity! You are the Inquisitor-General of the Church, not a lord of the Sasan Empire!”

The Pope gave Trigovar a cold look, stood up, and said, “The barbarians are even stronger than you imagine. In the era of the Wizards’ Blood Sacrifices, the elves fled into the Endless Forest, the northern barbarians were annihilated, and the beastmen escaped to the northernmost lands, yet the barbarians remained living on Mount Arreat. I have consulted the records. The city-state Wizards once tried to make a move on the barbarians, and as a result, their entire army was wiped out.”

“More than ten years ago, millions of Forest Centaurs migrated west as a tribe. Now, the barbarians, who never leave their home, have also come south. What does this mean?”

Trigovar shot to his feet, asking in shock, “What does it mean?”

“That is what I want to find out.” Clement shook his head, his expression heavy. “Among this group of barbarians, other than Elder Harald, there are no old people. They are either children or able-bodied adults, with a roughly equal ratio of men and women. The barbarians’ descent to the south to cross the river may be to carry out a certain mission, but this mission is certainly not a suicidal one, and it has a very long time span, long enough for them to multiply and thrive on the Southern Continent. Sophia just said that the mission deadline is twenty years. In twenty years, how will the strength of these barbarians have grown? If they fail to cross the river, Harald will return to Mount Arreat with even stronger barbarian warriors. This is a reinforcement!”

“What on earth could make the mighty and fearless barbarians prepare for the worst?!” Clement said bitterly. “The Forest Centaurs know, the barbarians know, but we humans know nothing!”

An indescribable fear made the legendary Paladin shiver. He stammered, “This… Your Holiness, you could…”

“Hmph! I’d like to live a few more years! You might as well return the Golden Horn to His Majesty the Pope.”

The Inquisitor-General slumped back into his seat and said, “Your Holiness, you are right. We must find out the barbarians’ intentions, and what exactly is going to happen on Mount Arreat.”

“There is no need to be overly worried,” Clement said with a confident smile. “The barbarians came south, so we can also go south. Opposite the Seven Great Islands is a powerful barbarian kingdom, but the sluice gate in the Centaur Hills is the perfect breakthrough point. Sylvia will certainly accept the barbarians, because Sophia will build a port for her.”

“I understand.” Trigovar stood up again and bowed. “Your Holiness, please permit me to take my leave first.”

“Trigovar, baseless speculation will only lead to fear and chaos. I do not wish for anyone outside the Church to know the content of our conversation. The barbarians are staying in the Centaur Hills entirely because of the entanglement between Sophia and the Kingdom of Borea.”

“As you wish, Your Holiness the Pope.” Trigovar paused his steps, glanced at the side door in the room, and only then left the great hall.

Tournans rubbed his smooth chin and asked curiously, “Why did that old fellow run off?”

“He ran off to win over Marquess Sophia.” The Archbishop of the Kingdom of Borea walked out from the side door of the hall. The Pope glanced at him and instructed, “Oleg, you are not to tell anyone about this matter either.”

“As you command, my Pope,” the Archbishop of Borea said with a grin.

Clement shook his head and sighed. “You people… you all have your own little schemes, and not a single one of you is considering the bigger picture!”

“That is why you are the Pope, and I am a Cardinal,” Oleg said with perfect justification.

“Big Nose… what are you all talking about?!”

A voice suddenly came from behind him. Archbishop Oleg jumped in fright. He whipped his head around and saw Tournans’s massive, curious face.

Chapter 316: The Pontiff’s Intent

Tournans was born into a family of priests in the Kingdom of Ayr. His great-grandfather and father were both battle priests who had been sacrificed in the war against the Gnolls. Deeply influenced by his family, the young Tournans dreamed of becoming a scholar-priest. However, while his physique was powerful, his faith steadfast, and his mind simple, he was just not clever enough. He couldn’t even grasp basic mathematics. For this, Tournans suffered no small amount of ridicule from his peers. Although he successfully passed the Monastery’s holy light selection, he could only accept the initiation of a Sacred Warrior. In the end, he became one of only five sixth-level Sacred Warriors, and the most powerful one at that.

The title of First Sacred Warrior did not change Tournans’s yearning for and admiration of scholar-priests. In his youth, Tournans loved to listen to the negotiations between the resident priest and the local lord. He could understand every word they said, but he just couldn’t grasp the meaning of the full sentences. Tournans believed this to be the wisdom of scholar-priests and did his best to imitate it. He always remembered Clement’s teaching: if you don’t understand, ask, and keep asking until you do.

Thus, the First Sacred Warrior became a known nuisance among the high-ranking clergy. He possessed an intense curiosity about political intrigue and the scandals of the high nobility, and showing off his knowledge was his worst habit. Tournans would always pique others’ interest with some secret, but just as you pricked up your ears to learn the details, he would tell you with a regretful look, “The matter is too important. I cannot say!”

The Borean Archbishop, Oleg, Pontiff Clement, and Tournans’s father had all come from the same Monastery, training as novice priests under the same mentor. It could be said that Oleg and Clement had witnessed Tournans’s growth and were intimately familiar with his character.

Clement didn’t think Tournans was stupid; rather, his body was so powerful that his soul was more focused on self-control, making him less sensitive to complex information. This was a common trait among Ferocious Warriors—“all brawn and no brains,” as the saying went.

A simple man, when he set his mind to something, was exceptionally focused and persistent. Tournans honed his martial skills with enough intensity to make his hair and eyebrows fall out. Being pestered by such a fellow was a headache for anyone.

Now, Tournans had latched onto Oleg. The Cardinal decided to satisfy the First Sacred Warrior’s curiosity, otherwise the man would pester him endlessly. Besides, the man’s lips were as sealed as the walls of the Southern Fortress.

“Alright. I’ll explain it to you clearly.” Oleg sat down where the Inquisitor-General had been and said, “Marquess Sophia styles herself as one of the commercial nobility. By completing the commission for the mountain tribes, she will not only gain an Urus and two Weapon Masters as followers, but she can also use her friendship with the mountain tribes to completely monopolize the trade on Mount Arreat. However, her relationship with the Gambis Royal Family is poor, and the incident on Ogar Island has made her realize that she’s caught in a game between several major powers. The Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild is in an extremely dangerous position. If she sends this group of barbarians across the river, the Auguste family will very likely join forces with Lazarus and directly announce her death… It’s almost a certainty! Therefore, she needs to use the barbarians’ power to negotiate with the Gambis Royal Family, to first try and secure her own position rather than considering the merchant association’s development.”

“Now, consider the Sasan Empire. The mountain tribes have always had a cool relationship with humans. This time, their hiring Marquess Sophia to lead the barbarians south shows that the mountain tribes are open to communicating with humans. At the very least, they respect our human territories. For the Sasan Empire, this is an opportunity to form an alliance with the barbarians. Unfortunately, the mountain tribes chose the wrong helper. The Sasan Empire cannot allow the three kingdoms to establish a connection with the barbarians, but they also cannot refuse the barbarians’ request for passage… Who knows how those brutes would react?”

“Dean Friedes personally designed the route for the barbarians’ southern journey. It avoids the Dodor and Gambis Kingdoms, entering the Kingdom of Naville directly through the secret trade route Sophia opened up. Then it detours through the wilderness to the Kingdom of Sus, finally arriving in our Kingdom of Borea. Along the way, our Church concealed the barbarians’ tracks and destination. Not even the King of Naville knows the specific details.”

“Some time ago, the Grand Commander’s secret envoy brought me a handwritten letter from him. He hopes the Kingdom of Borea will keep Sophia here. As long as the barbarians cross the river successfully, the Grand Commander and Dean Friedes will use the Curia to demand that Archbishop Lazarus, in concert with the Auguste family, announce Sophia’s death. This would sever the connection between the three kingdoms and the mountain tribes. The Kingdom of Borea has no fundamental conflict of interest with the Sasan Empire. For Borean caravans to trade with the barbarians, they must pass through the Sasan Empire’s territory. The Sasan Empire can leverage its geographical advantage and then try to use Borean caravans to ally with the barbarians.”

Tournans’s eyes darted about for a long moment before he said in his booming voice, “The Grand Commander and Friedes are both fools! Wouldn’t it be better to have Sophia join the Sasan Empire?”

“Because the Kingdom of Borea has ships,” Oleg said, rubbing his nose as he explained helplessly. “The Kingdom of Borea occupies the Seven Great Islands, so no one can threaten them. The Sassans need the Boreans to transport the barbarians across the river, and the Boreans rely on the Sasan Empire’s roads to trade with the barbarians. The two sides can only cooperate.”

Tournans slapped his forehead and let out an “Oh!” of sudden understanding.

Oleg continued, “There must be minerals on Mount Arreat. An alliance between the Sasan Empire and the barbarians would inevitably disrupt the current balance. A large-scale war of unification is not a result we wish to see. And the trouble the barbarians are facing is a real problem. The Sasan Empire won’t act rashly until they have the answer. Who would ally with trouble? It’s best to keep the barbarians in the Centaur Hills for now and then try to find out the truth. Besides…” Oleg turned to Clement. “Actually, you want to draw Sylvia’s attention to the Southern Continent, don’t you?”

Clement nodded. “The Radiant Knights’ ideals aren’t wrong, but their methods are too radical. The consequence of a direct confrontation between the Sasan Empire and the Spirit Knights would be an all-out war between the two factions. Fortunately, Viscount Randell appeared out of nowhere. His sluice gate was a stroke of genius. Let the southern lords turn south, and the northern lords turn north. Internal conflicts should be resolved at the negotiating table.”

“You believe that the New Agro-husbandry and the water project are both Viscount Randell’s work?” Oleg asked in surprise.

“I can’t be certain either. But… you know the caliber of the Silver Spire, don’t you?” Clement shook his head and chuckled. “I have carefully studied the changes in the Centaur Hills and found that everything is related to Viscount Randell… I didn’t suspect him at first, but this child actually planted Spiked Kidney Beans on the hills and then introduced the public carriage… His unconventional thinking is cut from the same cloth as the New Agro-husbandry and the water project. It’s rare that he has such a favorable impression of our Church, which is why I must meet him personally.”

“Mmm!” Tournans nodded very seriously, looking for all the world like an Archbishop.

Clement suddenly asked, “What’s the situation with the Ephesus family?”

Oleg pondered for a moment, then shook his head. “The Ephesus family has held the position of Minister of Finance for over three hundred years. The nobles of Borea’s Royal Capital have long had their complaints about this, and the Ephesus family has done its fair share of striking down political rivals. To keep their trade routes open, the Ephesus family maintains close ties with the great nobles of other kingdoms. Borea’s Grand Vizier often relies on the Ephesus family’s connections for diplomatic affairs. In recent decades, they’ve even earned the nickname ‘Borea’s Foreign Ministers.’ Most importantly, they are too rich!”

“The wealth accumulated by the Ephesus family is greater than that of any of the ruling families. This time, Marquess Ephesus’s private execution of Gambis’s spy gave Duke Peter the pretext he needed. I ensured that the members of Marquess Ephesus’s family would not be implicated, which I consider a fair return for his annual donation of five thousand Gold Sols,” Oleg sighed.

The First Sacred Warrior leaned in and asked, “Ephesus is very rich? How much money does he have?”

“The Ephesus family’s accumulation over several hundred years couldn’t be less than ten million Gold Sols.” After a pause, the Archbishop added, “The Five Great Families have promised to contribute one million Gold Sols to fund the construction of the Kingdom of Borea’s public transport system.”

“That is an internal affair of the Kingdom of Borea. We will not interfere.” Clement smiled, then asked, “How will the Ephesus Merchant Association be handled?”

“The merchant association will be managed by the ruling families in rotation, with the other families exercising supervisory rights. The Peter family is the ruling family for this term, and Duke Peter has put his eldest son, Raymond, in charge of the merchant association.”

“So, the Peter family led this affair?”

“Yes.” Oleg nodded affirmatively.

“The Five Great Families keep each other in check. They can drag out any issue for a year and a half.” Clement frowned and asked, “I’m curious, what price did the Peter family pay to persuade the other families without a single word leaking out?”

Oleg leaned back in his chair and said with a smile, “There are reports that Master Severin of the Peter family has improved the formula for the Vigor Potion. The new potion is far more effective than the ordinary version and can significantly increase a Knight’s success rate in advancing.”

“An improved formula?” Clement’s expression shifted. “Is this information reliable?”

“My battle priests and Sacred Warriors are familiar with every Knight in the Kingdom of Borea. The matter of a new formula cannot be hidden from me, and Duke Peter has no reason to deceive me,” Oleg said. “There are signs that the new formula requires medicinal herbs unique to Mount Arreat.”

“That makes sense,” Clement nodded. “The trade on Mount Arreat is tied to the raw materials for the new potion, so the merchant association cannot remain under the control of the Ephesus family. No wonder their offer to recruit Sophia was so generous.”

“Mmm, that’s what I was thinking too,” the First Sacred Warrior stated his opinion very solemnly.

Clement thought for a moment, then continued, “Sophia has refused the Kingdom of Borea’s invitation, and a port is now going to be built in the Centaur Hills. I’m afraid the Five Great Families won’t let this go.”

“If the soft approach doesn’t work, they’ll have to use a hard one.” Seeing Clement’s expressionless face, Oleg added, “Rest assured, I will not let the Five Great Families disrupt your strategic vision of turning north and south.”

“Hmph. What do I have to worry about? The Kingdom of Borea is situated in the southeast. Just as others cannot threaten the Seven Great Islands, they are equally incapable of doing anything to other powers. Their so-called hard-line measures can only be underhanded tricks.” Clement said dismissively, caressing his Mithril scepter.

Oleg gave a dry laugh and said, “That I do not know… The Peter family seems confident they can make Sophia bow her head and admit defeat. However, you shouldn’t expect the Kingdom of Borea to dispatch scholars and artisans to help the Centaur Hills build their port.”

Clement was silent for a moment, then smiled. “This is a new beginning. It is the Kingdom of Borea’s loss if they do not actively participate.”

————————

“This is a rare opportunity. It’s your loss if you don’t participate!”

In The Whispering Inn in Red Port’s dock district, a meeting place for the members of the Masked Brotherhood, Redbeard, Chief of the Bloody Hand, waved his hairy arms and glared fiercely at the representatives of the major gangs. “To tell you the truth,” he said sinisterly, “from now on, the Masked Brotherhood will be the outer circle of the Southwind Merchant Association. The Bloody Hand is in charge of the Brotherhood now. Anyone who dares to ruin my business will die!”

Daunted by Redbeard’s menacing aura, the fierce and cunning gang leaders all fell silent. After a long moment, a skinny man with a grim face spoke up, “Red… Chief Bloody Hand, it’s certainly a good thing for the Brotherhood to expand its influence into the territories of Dodor and the Sassans. But merchant associations all serve the noble lords. If we go after the Wimbledon Merchant Association, isn’t that just asking for death?”

“Heh heh, the Wimbledon Merchant Association isn’t just any merchant association. Their stewards are all Knights…” Redbeard glanced around. “Relax, we don’t need to deal with the House of Wimbledon’s merchant association directly. The traders who cooperate with the Wimbledon Merchant Association are the Brotherhood’s targets. I want you to make them betray the Wimbledon Merchant Association, by any means necessary!”

“Dealing with traders is no problem, of course,” another gang leader interjected. “But our counterparts in other places are no pushovers. They have connections with the magistrates. If we touch the traders, it’s like smashing their livelihood. We’re not afraid of a bloody fight, but getting on the bad side of a magistrate is a death sentence. Don’t forget, a year ago, a team from the brotherhood was wiped out in Deepwater City in Gambis. Not even Twin-Blade Nikolai managed to escape.”

“Twin-Blade” Nikolai was an elite mercenary secretly trained by the Masked Brotherhood. His skill with a pair of scimitars was divine, and he rarely met his match. Unlike an ordinary gang member, Nikolai was specifically responsible for suppressing bandits in the Eastern Alliance; he was a true warrior. Yet, Nikolai and his men had died silently in Deepwater City in Gambis, and the Masked Brotherhood’s stronghold there had been uprooted. Although there was no concrete news, the Brotherhood’s upper echelons all believed Nikolai had been dealt with by the magistrate of Deepwater City. This incident once again proved the Brotherhood’s ironclad rule: never provoke the magistrates.

“Even Nikolai is dead. Who could possibly escape? All the men in the world wouldn’t be enough to fill that hole!”

“Yeah, kill the watchdog, and the master will be displeased.”

“We can’t rush this.”

The gang leaders whispered amongst themselves, their voices a low buzz of discussion. Redbeard stood up, leaning on the table. “Matters of the higher-ups are decided by the higher-ups. I can’t be too explicit, but I can tell you this for sure: the Dodor Kingdom will absolutely not care about the lives of those traders! And the Sasan Empire will soon stop meddling in these affairs either. So go all out!”

The gang leaders’ eyes glinted, and the room fell silent.

Thump!

A tankard slammed heavily onto the bar. An old gnome from behind the counter yelled, “Everyone, get out! I still have a business to run.”

The old gnome was the owner of The Whispering Inn. His attitude towards the leaders of the Brotherhood was terrible, yet no one dared to show any dissatisfaction. Redbeard glanced at the old gnome, then turned back. “Everyone go back and make it clear to your brothers. You’ll do this whether you like it or not! Scram, scram, everyone out.”

The men rose to leave, not forgetting to nod to the old gnome before they departed. After everyone had left the inn, Redbeard said to the old gnome, “Chief Hooke, I owe you for this one. Otherwise, the Bloody Hand Brotherhood would have been finished.”

“I’m already retired. You’re the chief of the Bloody Hand Brotherhood now.” The old gnome, Hooke, took out a cup, filled it with ale, and handed it to Redbeard. “Did Young Master Raymond accept your proposal?”

“He didn’t say it outright.” Redbeard raised the cup and downed it in one go, breathing out a cloud of strong, spicy liquor fumes. He said smugly, “I can tell Young Master Raymond appreciates me… Of course, lower-class people must be dealt with by lower-class people. Those noble lords could never think of targeting small-fry like traders.”

The old gnome thought for a moment and said, “Redbeard, let your subordinates do the dirty work. Try to keep yourself out of it as much as possible. That’s the only way you’ll get a chance to be an innkeeper.”

“Haha, Chief Hooke, I’m going to be granted a lordship!” Redbeard laughed boisterously, then his expression turned serious. “I’ll be sure to remember your words, Chief.”

“Just remember them. From now on, the affairs of the Bloody Hand Brotherhood have nothing to do with me. You don’t need to come here anymore,” the old gnome said faintly.

“Chief Hooke, this is for my drink.” A satisfied smile spread across Redbeard’s face. He tossed a heavy coin purse onto the bar and swaggered out of the inn.

The door was slammed shut, and the inn returned to its usual quiet. A thin young man came down from the second floor, his face full of scorn. “What an idiot!”

“Rat, there’s no need for you to be jealous of mortals.” The old gnome untied the coin purse, and dozens of Purple Gold Coins clattered onto the bar. The young man’s throat moved, and he couldn’t help but swallow. The old gnome picked up a Purple Gold Coin, tossed it to the young man, and asked, “Is the room ready?”

The young man caught the coin, his face breaking into a wide smile. “Yes, Tutor.”

The old gnome turned and climbed to the second floor, entering a narrow, dark room. He lay down on the wooden plank bed, closed his eyes, and silently recited an incantation. A faint ripple pulled his consciousness to a distant place. When he opened his eyes again, he saw a deep blue sky.

“This body is not bad,” the old gnome said, quite satisfied as he felt the strong muscles on his arm.

“I am the Shadow Council President. Who might you be?” a little boy asked from not far away. He was surrounded by a group of men and women, young and old.

The old gnome placed a hand on his chest and bowed. “Respected Mr. President, I am the Shadow Councilor, ‘Giant’.”

Chapter 317: The Council President’s Plan

“Welcome, Giant.” The little boy nodded in greeting to the stout man possessed by the old dwarf, speaking in a tender, childish voice. “All twelve councilors have descended. The meeting can begin. Heller, please take your proteges and stand guard at the foot of the mountain.”

“As you wish, Council President.”

A middle-aged man crossed his arms over his chest and bowed slightly to the Shadow Council President, then led several men and women dressed as hunters down the mountain along a hastily cleared path. Only the thirteen high-ranking members of the Shadow Council remained on the summit.

The Shadow Council President spoke, “Today’s gathering concerns our future. I have an important proposal that requires everyone’s support. Before I announce the detailed plan, let us first report our individual progress, as is customary.”

“Giant, Sevon, Ujasi, Spider King, and Misgen, the five of you are the controllers of the Masked Brotherhood. Please begin by reporting on the situation with the Five Great Families and the Brotherhood.”

The five councilors who were named each took a step forward. After exchanging glances, a bald old man with a brandy nose smiled “elegantly.” “I am Councilor Misgen. I shall begin.” Covering his mouth full of rotten teeth, he mumbled, “This body is truly dreadful… Well, that is of no importance.”

Councilor Misgen spread his hands and continued, “As you all know, my branch specializes in gathering intelligence from high society. During this time, I have followed the Council President’s instructions and tracked the developments between the Kingdom of Borea and the Wimbledon Marchioness. Fifteen days ago, the Pontiff left Red Port with the Marchioness. The Kingdom of Borea’s attempt to recruit the Marchioness has completely failed. The Five Great Families of Borea held a secret meeting to discuss their countermeasures.”

“One of my proteges has a natural talent for espionage, so I am fully aware of the contents of the Five Great Families’ meeting. Hehe…”

Councilor Misgen chuckled, covering his mouth, his eyes sly and bewitching. The others felt an urge to vomit, seeing an ugly, bald old man acting so coyly. Paying no mind to their reactions, Misgen continued, “Every plan those great nobles discussed was mercilessly refuted. In truth, they are powerless against the Marchioness. In the end, that handsome Young Master Raymond proposed a strategy of directly striking at the Wimbledon Merchant Association, and he gave two reasons.”

“First, while the Marchioness has the barbarians tied to her, she herself is also held captive by them. Over three hundred barbarian warriors are enough to cause unease and apprehension among the major powers, including the Kingdom of Gambia and the Centaur Hills. Until the barbarian warriors leave the human kingdoms, the Marchioness can only remain in the Centaur Hills to keep an eye on them. This period is precisely when the Wimbledon Merchant Association is at its weakest. The Dodor Kingdom and the Sasan Empire would love to see the Marchioness in dire straits. They certainly won’t mind the Kingdom of Borea’s move to deal with the Wimbledon Merchant Association… How did Young Master Raymond put it? Oh, ‘The more power Sophia commands, the more difficult it becomes for the Wimbledon Merchant Association to survive!’”

“Second, sixty percent of the association’s profits come from freemen merchants.” After a pause, Misgen shook his head. “Unbelievable. That the lowly freemen merchants are the foundation of the association? Those great nobles didn’t believe it either. Young Master Raymond summoned three stewards from the Ephesus Merchant Association to the meeting. Only after the representatives of the Five Great Families had thoroughly questioned the stewards did they approve of Young Master Raymond’s opinion.”

“Your Excellency, Giant, for a young noble to have such insight, it must be the result of your subtle guidance, correct?” Councilor Misgen winked at the Giant, Hooke.

How disgusting…

The old dwarf’s lips twitched. He said coldly, “I will explain later.”

Misgen gave a hair-raising smile and said, “Young Master Raymond stated that coercing the freemen merchants is far easier than winning over the Marchioness. If the Wimbledon Merchant Association loses the support of the freemen merchants, it will be basically finished. If the Marchioness doesn’t want her association to collapse, she can only compromise with the Kingdom of Borea. If she refuses to compromise, without the Wimbledon Merchant Association, she will have no way to transport her medicinal herbs out, and the Southwind Merchant Association will ultimately obtain the key ingredients.”

“Young Master Raymond proposed trading the formula for the Bloodboil Potion in exchange for the support of the Dodor Kingdom and the Sasan Empire, while simultaneously ordering the Masked Brotherhood to coerce the freemen merchants. The Five Great Families agreed to his plan.”

“Hey, why do you all look like you don’t understand? I’ve already explained it in great detail,” Councilor Misgen said, rolling his eyes.

“Misgen, you speak in such a roundabout way. I genuinely suspect you’re the handmaiden to some noble lady,” the Giant said gruffly, suppressing the urge to punch the old baldy to death. “The matter is actually quite simple. It’s like a turf war between two fishing gangs. One crew catches a priceless Water Lizard, and the other crew first bribes the magistrate, then hires thugs to scuttle their rival’s fishing boat, take out their lackeys, buy off their fishermen, intimidate their business partners, and finally, force them to hand over the Water Lizard.”

The councilors’ faces lit up with understanding. The Giant spat on the ground and said mockingly, “We’ve done this sort of thing plenty of times, just not on the scale the nobles play at. The young noble’s idea came from me, and the Five Great Families thought it was a brilliant stratagem. It seems the only difference between nobles and hooligans is that one is a big villain, and the other is a small one.” He added, “Council President, several of us have completed the task you entrusted to us. That young noble has ordered the Masked Brotherhood to dispatch men to four major cities in the Dodor Kingdom to coerce the local merchants. However…”

“Is there a difficulty?” the Council President asked in a placid tone.

The Giant spoke succinctly, “The mission is too urgent, and the Brotherhood’s strength is insufficient. We need two hundred Bloodguards!”

“I am Shadow Councilor Nightmare.” A young-looking hunter spoke up. “The Masked Brotherhood has over forty thousand members, seven to eight thousand well-trained enforcers, and more than eight hundred elite mercenaries. Is that not enough to deal with the Thieves’ Guilds in four cities?”

“I am Shadow Councilor Spider King.” A middle-aged man who looked like a farmer standing next to the Giant chimed in, “Nightmare, wars between Thieves’ Guilds have their own rules. Although the Five Great Families have bribed high-ranking officials in the Dodor Kingdom and the Sasan Empire, the city magistrates will at most turn a blind eye to our actions. They will never help us suppress the local gangs. If we send too many men, we’ll be suppressed by the Magistrate’s Office instead. Too few, and we’ll be no match for the local gangs.”

“The main issue is the lack of time. The young noble demands that the Masked Brotherhood subdue the underworld forces of four major cities within a year. We don’t have enough time to cultivate our own influence there, so our only choice is to use force. But if it really comes to a fight, what use are well-trained enforcers and elite mercenaries? For every one of their men we kill, they can immediately recruit two more from the refugees, while on our side, every death is a permanent loss.” The Spider King bared his teeth in a grin. “The only way is to use overwhelming force to make our opponents submit. Besides the Bloodguards, it would be best to mobilize a group of Shadow Warriors to assassinate the leaders of the local Thieves’ Guilds, then prop up some puppets to become an outer circle for the Masked Brotherhood.”

“That’s impossible. We don’t have enough Bloodguards on our side, let alone Shadow Warriors,” Nightmare refused flatly.

As if not noticing Nightmare’s sullen expression, the Shadow Council President said with a smile, “Nightmare, Physician, Stinger, Karl, Lindu, Jailer, Black Rose, you seven councilors, report your results.”

Nightmare nodded and said, “Over a year ago, we found the Wizard Tower ruins in Nidam Swamp that the Council President spoke of. The ancient stone slates recording the Restoration Potion, color-changing dye, and Bloodlust Potion were discovered on the periphery of the ruins. We used the Bloodlust Potion to create three hundred and seventy-one Bloodguards and sixty-four Shadow Warriors. The Physician then modified the Bloodlust Potion formula into the Bloodboil Potion. The three stone slates have already been handed over to you.”

The Giant nodded at Nightmare. “Yes, we followed the Council President’s instructions and gave the three stone slates to the Peter family.”

“Mm,” Nightmare continued, “We have also locked onto the target the Council President mentioned—the crystal sealing the secret potion of the Chosen.”

“The place is a Hydra Lizard’s nest. Through the dreams of the Lizardmen, I saw the architectural ruins at the bottom of the lake. The broken stone walls were overgrown with waterweeds and moss. The secret potion crystal was embedded in an altar. Inside the crystal was a drop of dark golden liquid. Even in the Lizardmen’s dreams, I could feel its power and majesty, as if… as if it were the blood of a god.” A complex expression of awe and longing appeared on Nightmare’s face. He fell silent for a moment before saying, “I also saw a special suit of armor. No, ‘special’ isn’t the right word. It should be ‘magical’!” Nightmare explained, “I have never seen such beautiful armor. Its surface is engraved with special patterns, and at the nodes of these patterns are embedded crystals of the four elements. On its forehead is a fire element crystal, on its chest an earth element crystal, and on its abdomen a water element crystal. The pauldrons and leg guards each have an earth element crystal, while the elbows and knees bear four blue wind element crystals. The entire suit of armor has been submerged in water for thousands of years without any sign of rust or moss, as if it were brand new.”

Councilor Misgen suddenly asked, “Is the armor violet-gold?”

“It’s not Adamantine. Even Adamantine armor couldn’t remain rust-free for thousands of years.” Nightmare shook his head. “The surface of the armor has a dark cyan luster, but the lines connecting the element crystals are pure black.”

“Council President, do you know what that armor is?” Councilor Misgen turned to ask the Shadow Council President.

“What else could it be? It’s armor forged by the Chosen for Knights. Don’t forget, the Knights were once our servants,” the Giant said coldly.

“The Knights were servants to the ancient Chosen, not our servants,” Misgen corrected. “Don’t forget, we are not the powerful and cruel ancient Chosen, and the Knights can never be our servants again. This point is crucial!”

“There’s no need to argue. The Knights’ things are of no value to us, just like how the Restoration Potion is worthless in our hands, yet the Knights of the Kingdom of Borea treat it as a treasure.” Nightmare said nonchalantly, “Besides the secret potion and the armor, there is a strange stone sphere at the center of the ruins. It’s about a person’s height, yellowish-brown, and its surface is extremely smooth, with no markings or moss.”

“The armor and the stone sphere are not important.” Nightmare looked at the Shadow Council President with a burning gaze and asked, “My lord, can that secret potion truly send a normal person into a Savage state and greatly extend our lives?”

“Absolutely true,” the little boy possessed by the Council President nodded in affirmation.

“But we can’t get it!” Nightmare said with frustration. “The Hydra Lizard and the Lizardmen tribe are blocking our way. We lost three proteges, one hundred and seventy-seven Bloodguards, and twenty-one Shadow Warriors, and still couldn’t injure the Hydra Lizard… To be precise, we wounded it heavily, but it healed itself.”

“What?!”

“You lost that many people?!”

The Giant said furiously, “Nightmare, you acted without informing us! Are you trying to hoard the Chosen’s secret potion for yourselves?”

Nightmare retorted disdainfully, “During the last descent and discussion, didn’t everyone unanimously approve the proposal to search for the secret potion? Was there something wrong with our actions?”

The Giant’s pupils shrank to the size of pinpricks. Nightmare stared back at him without flinching. The twelve councilors faced off against each other, and the atmosphere instantly grew cold and heavy.

“Nightmare, are you questioning my plan?”

The moment the Shadow Council President spoke, Nightmare withdrew his provocative gaze, lowered his head, and said, “Council President, we have no intention of opposing you. But you yourself said that our future lies in the East! We have poured too much of our heart and soul here. I don’t understand why we must send the Bloodguards and Shadow Warriors to the Dodor Kingdom and the Sasan Empire. These warriors with extraordinary power only know of the Masked Brotherhood, not the Shadow Council. Once they are out of our sight, they are highly likely to completely defect to the nobles and might even expose our secrets.”

“The Bloodguards possess the power of Bloodlust, and the Shadow Warriors, who have integrated with Combat Spirits, are even stronger. With such strength, we would be better off establishing an underground kingdom belonging to the Shadow Council in the Eastern Alliance.”

The Shadow Council President chuckled. “Isn’t the Masked Brotherhood our underground kingdom?” His voice suddenly turned icy and grim. “Or have the Bloodguards and Shadow Warriors made you feel you have the capital to challenge me? Have you forgotten how the Bloodguards and Shadow Warriors came to be?”

The Shadow Council operated in a cryptic manner. Each councilor led a group of Wizard proteges, and the councilors themselves were ignorant of each other’s true identities and natural talents. Every gathering was convened by the Council President, with the councilors descending to possess ordinary people’s bodies for meetings and discussions, which in reality meant following the President’s orders. This was because the President knew the identity and abilities of every member. No matter where they hid, the President’s owl messengers could find them, while the councilors knew nothing of the President’s true identity. This point alone meant no one could defy the President’s will.

The Shadow Council’s organizational structure reduced the risk of exposure, but it also led to close bonds between councilors and their proteges, while relations between councilors were rather indifferent.

For thousands of years, the Shadow Council President’s position was supreme, with each councilor forming their own branch. Ever since the Five Great Families established the Kingdom of Borea, the Shadow Council had lain dormant in the Eastern Alliance, secretly controlling the Masked Brotherhood. The five branches of councilors represented by the Giant operated in bustling cities, overseeing the Brotherhood’s affairs and recruiting newly awakened Wizards. Meanwhile, the seven branches of councilors, including Nightmare, hid in remote refugee villages, training enforcers and mercenaries for the Brotherhood.

The five branches of councilors, including the Giant’s, held great power and enjoyed a comfortable material life, which always caused some resentment in Nightmare and the others. The emergence of the Bloodguards and Shadow Warriors finally ignited the conflict between the two sides.

Over a year ago, the Shadow Council President placed great importance on a rookie Wizard named Lindu. With his help, the Shadow Council found the ruins of the Wizard Tower and unearthed the formula for the Bloodlust Potion.

Soldiers who consumed the Bloodlust Potion would gain the Bloodlust talent as long as they did not descend into madness, their strength and speed increasing exponentially. The Shadow Council called them Bloodguards.

However, Bloodguards found it difficult to master their surging power. In their Bloodlust state, their combat effectiveness was only equivalent to an apprentice knight who had taken a cleansing potion. Not long after, the Shadow Council President sent a batch of black crystal spheres and instructed Nightmare on a new spell. By channeling the power of the crystal spheres into the dreams of the Bloodguards, the awakened Bloodguards would learn profound martial arts within a few short months, enabling them to fully unleash the power of Bloodlust. Moreover, their progress was astonishing, each one like a genius. Some became terrifying assassins, some skilled hunters, and some powerful warriors.

These were the Shadow Warriors, whose combat prowess was sufficient to rival an initial-rank Knight.

However, the Shadow Council had to remain in the shadows. Nightmare and the others had always trained orphans under the banner of the Brotherhood. Once these warriors left the training camps, they would only obey the Brotherhood’s commands. Therefore, Nightmare was absolutely unwilling to hand the Bloodguards and Shadow Warriors over to the Giant.

Displeased as they were, Nightmare and his faction didn’t have the courage to actually oppose the Shadow Council President. The President didn’t even need to act personally; he only had to leak information to the religious inquisition, and they would surely face death.

Faced with the Shadow Council President’s interrogation, Nightmare and the other six councilors from his faction looked terrified, repeatedly saying, “We wouldn’t dare.”

“Ignorant fools!” the Shadow Council President said coldly. “Without Wizards, where would the Bloodlust Potion come from? Without the Bloodlust Potion, where would the Bloodguards and Shadow Warriors come from? The number of Wizards is already scarce. If you abandon our kind in the Sasan Empire and the three kingdoms, aren’t you afraid the Council’s legacy will be severed?”

Cold sweat trickled down the backs of Nightmare and the others. They bowed their heads obsequiously and said, “My lord, we were wrong.”

The President’s expression softened slightly. He asked, “What is the Council’s tenet?”

“To restore the glory of the Chosen!” the twelve councilors replied in unison.

“Restore the glory of old… Everything we do is for this goal.” The President nodded, then asked, “So what must we do to secure a place in high society?”

The councilors looked at each other, remaining silent. The President sighed. “The ancient Chosen were so powerful they didn’t need to consider the opinions of the lower class. Now, we have lost the capital to remain high and mighty. If we want to become upper-class people again, we must gain the support of the populace, just like the Knights and the Church. How do they do it?”

Councilor Misgen’s eyes blinked as he ventured, “Protection? Salvation?”

“Protection and salvation? Heh, then why are the people willing to accept the protection of the Knights and the salvation of the clergy?” The President looked around, then answered his own question, “Because the Church and the Knights have one thing in common: they both possess extraordinary power, and they can both bestow that extraordinary power upon common people.”

“The Knights do it through marriage, the Church through faith. In order to obtain power, mortals are of course willing to support them, advocate for them, and obey them. This is the true foundation of the Knights’ and the Church’s rule over the populace. The lords of the Kingdom of Borea don’t care how large the Masked Brotherhood’s forces are. Are they arrogant or foolish? No. The lords need only beckon, and the members of the Masked Brotherhood will abandon us and kneel at their feet. No one can resist the temptation of extraordinary power. The underground kingdom we have built is merely setting the stage for the lords and the Church.”

Nightmare murmured, “The Bloodguards? The Shadow Warriors?”

The President gave him an appreciative look and said, “Only by being able to bestow power upon mortals do we have the right to restore the glory of the Chosen. Loyal death commandos, immense wealth, a vast underground empire—all of it is meaningless in the face of this ability.”

“The method of creating Bloodguards is too vicious; five out of ten people will fall into an incurable madness. Mortals will not accept such a method. However, we have a safer way: the Bloodboil Potion.”

“When soldiers consume the Bloodboil Potion, a harmless medicinal property remains in their bodies. This property can be accumulated and also inherited. After four generations, the accumulated potency of the soldiers will reach its peak. With just a cleansing by another secret potion and the guidance of magic, these individuals will become Ferocious Warriors with the Bloodlust talent. And they will become our Partisans, helping us restore the glory of the Chosen.”

“The Chosen’s secret potion from the ruins?” the Giant asked.

“Correct.” The President nodded. “After the Lord of Radiance changed the laws of the world, the ancient Chosen lost their power to guide the Elemental Sea. They had an abundance of magical power but could only use their own innate talents. To fight against the Radiant Church’s endless supply of clergy, the Council began to research secret potions to grant ordinary people extraordinary power. Unfortunately, before the Council could form the Bloodlust Legion and the War Spirit Legion, the Archmage of that Wizard Tower died by the sword of a Radiant Angel.”

“So the Shadow Warriors were originally soldiers of the War Spirit Legion?” the Spider King asked in a low voice.

“To be precise, they are warriors who possess guardian spirits.” The President smiled and said, “Until we obtain the secret potion, the Shadow Council’s legacy cannot be broken. My entire plan is designed to spread the Bloodboil Potion, while using the Kingdom of Borea as cover to expand the Masked Brotherhood’s influence, establish an intelligence network, and rescue our kind from all over the world. And, of course, to amass wealth and increase our strength.”

“Didn’t the young master of the Peter family want us to strike the Wimbledon Merchant Association? Indulge him. Send out all the Shadow Warriors.”

“My lord, what if the Shadow Warriors are exposed?” Nightmare asked cautiously.

“It doesn’t matter if they are exposed. Have the Shadow Warriors take their own lives if possible. If they are captured alive by some mischance, they are to insist that it is an effect of the Bloodboil Potion. Any more questions?”

The Shadow Councilors declared in unison, “As you wish, revered Shadow Council President, great Mentor of the Chosen.”

The Shadow Council President nodded and instructed, “Oh, and one more thing. Before the lords realize what’s happening, try to take control of the public carriages in every region. That’s an incredible asset…”

Chapter 318: Camelope

In the fourth month of the Season of Earth, the weather gradually grew hotter. During this time of lush growth and blooming mountain flowers, the Centaur Hills became verdant and full of life. The rolling hills were covered in thickets of low shrubs, and colorful wildflowers blossomed quietly, resembling exquisite tapestries draped over the landscape.

The valleys between the hills were covered in dense alfalfa, growing vigorously and dotted with small, blue-violet flowers. Herds of cattle and sheep grazed with their heads bowed. Some bold wild deer, unable to resist the temptation of the pasture, trotted quietly out of the woods and mixed in with the flocks, feasting on the tender alfalfa. Dutiful sheepdogs bared their teeth and snarled at these uninvited guests, trying to defend the flock’s territory, only to be met by the stags’ antlers.

The shepherds sat on the grass, leisurely watching the sheepdogs and wild deer chase and play, with no intention of lending a hand.

It wasn’t hunting season yet, so if the deer wanted to eat the alfalfa, let them eat. The fatter, the better…

Of course, the landscape of the hills was not immutable. With the increase in human activity, especially the rise of the brick-making industry, many hills had become barren. The shrubs on them were cut down, dried into firewood, fed into the giant brick kilns, and finally transformed into billowing smoke that vanished into the sky.

Near Moline Village in the Randell Fief, five hills had become barren mounds where not a single blade of grass grew. The brown earth was directly exposed to the air, creating a stark and ugly contrast with the dense forests and green valleys. During the rainy season, these mounds were even in danger of collapsing.

However, things were different now.

Ring after ring of terraced fields spiraled up from the foot of the hills to their peaks. Layer upon layer, at varying heights, the neatly arranged Spiked Kidney Bean trees on the terraces dressed the mountainside like a richly textured green pagoda. Peasant women, with scarves on their heads and baskets woven from wild vines on their backs, were constantly picking plump pods from the trees, filling their baskets in no time.

“It would be so much better if all these Spiked Kidney Beans were used to feed pigs…” Village Head Moline remarked with a look of regret.

“If old man Miller heard you say that, do you think he’d jump up and slap you hard across the face?” Victor teased with a smile.

Victor had long planned to develop terraced fields. He had originally intended to plant cash crops like fruit trees, Oilwood, and sisal on the mounds, but in the end, he chose the high-yield Spiked Kidney Bean. According to The Agreement between Victor and Duke Wellington, the Randell Fief was to transplant one million three hundred thousand Spiked Kidney Bean trees from the south-central part of the kingdom within two years, totaling fifty thousand mu of fields. During the Season of Wind last year, the Randell Fief had planted over eighteen thousand mu of Spiked Kidney Beans. By the third month of the Season of Earth, these plants had their first harvest, with a single month’s yield reaching over fifteen million pounds.

Although the Spiked Kidney Bean didn’t taste great and had a high water content, it was more than enough to fill one’s stomach. However, while the yield was high, the population of the Randell Fief was also large.

The Randell Fief had currently taken in over eighteen thousand refugees, and the York family had successively transferred another thirteen thousand refugee laborers to Baroness Phoenix’s fief to build the southern wall and fortress. Including the original twelve thousand-plus laborers, the population under Victor’s management exceeded forty-three thousand. The Randell Fief was planting Spiked Kidney Beans precisely to alleviate the logistical pressure brought by this massive population. Although the York family was supposed to provide for the food, clothing, and shelter of the refugee laborers, the giant fortress blocking the entrance to the Great Marsh was crucial to the security of the Randell Fief. The two parties were in the same boat, so there was no need to be overly pedantic.

Crate after crate of Spiked Kidney Beans were sent to the construction site and distributed for free to the laborers in the name of the Church. Father Miller was grinning from ear to ear, but the villagers in every village couldn’t bring themselves to be happy.

A bountiful harvest was certainly a cause for joy, but if the hard-grown Spiked Kidney Beans were to be given away for free, that was another matter entirely. In the villagers’ eyes, the surplus beans should be used to feed pigs!

Thinking of Father Miller flying into a rage and spitting in his face, Village Head Moline immediately lost his nerve. He said sheepishly, “My lord, the five hills under Moline Village’s jurisdiction are already full of Spiked Kidney Beans. It shouldn’t be our turn to plant the next batch, should it?”

Victor smiled without a word. Village Head Moline’s reaction was exactly what he wanted.

The produce of the fief nominally belonged to the lord, but how much could the lord actually take? A village had at most two thousand villagers and jurisdiction over three to four hundred square kilometers of land. Even if the villagers didn’t farm, they could solve the problem of food and warmth simply by gathering wild resources. If the lord collected less tribute, they could even live prosperous lives. Therefore, the villagers kept a very close eye on the village’s communal lands; the produce of every hill was directly tied to their pockets. Who would be willing to plant nothing but worthless Spiked Kidney Beans?

In fact, the greatest resistance to the Church’s promotion of Spiked Kidney Beans came from the populace, not the lords. It didn’t matter where the beans were planted.

If the Church wanted to expand the cultivation area for Spiked Kidney Beans in the Randell Fief, it first had to ask for the villagers’ consent.

The Lord’s Will was, in fact, a concentrated expression of the will of his subjects. For example, Moline was now petitioning Victor for the benefit of his villagers. He was one of Victor’s first followers and had rendered meritorious service to the House of Randell; he could be considered utterly loyal. For a veteran stalwart like Moline, Victor would always show some consideration. This was bottom-up influence.

People have their own circles of closeness and distance. Even the Lord of Radiance only bestowed his divine arts upon the most devout clergy, let alone a mere mortal lord. A fool who did not protect his own people and pursued impartiality for all would only end up abandoned by everyone.

The higher you stand, the farther you see. A village head’s perspective could certainly not compare to a lord’s. Faced with Moline’s request, Victor felt it necessary to enlighten him.

“You can’t just think about your own village. I hope that in the future, all you village heads will be able to take on the heavy responsibility of being a Town mayor.”

Victor said to Moline, “By the end of this year, the main canal will connect all five stream reservoirs. In the following five years, we will build a ring canal on the east side of the Goldwater River and more small artificial lakes upstream of the stream reservoirs. The Randell Fief’s arable land will increase to three million mu, and its pastureland will exceed four million mu. I plan to implement a three-year crop rotation system: one year of wheat, one year of ground-potatoes, and then one year fallow. Even so, the farm work for two million mu of cultivated land each year will require one hundred thousand able-bodied laborers. Their families can grow vegetables, raise pigs, and herd cattle and sheep. Add to that the brick kiln workers, iron miners, craftsmen, artisans, and the residents of Laketon, the total population of the Randell Fief will be no less than four hundred thousand.”

Moline was dumbfounded. “So many people? I thought the kingdom’s total population was only a little over nine hundred thousand!”

“That’s the registered population, referring to the kingdom’s subjects,” Victor said as they walked, with Moline and his Swiftbird following closely behind. “The refugees in the central and northern parts of the kingdom exceed nine hundred thousand, and the refugees in other fiefs add up to over one million. I estimate the total population of Gambis is at least three million. Of course, the Randell Fief certainly can’t rely solely on recruiting refugees; we also need to encourage childbirth… Hmm, absorbing one hundred and twenty thousand refugees into the Randell Fief should be about right.”

“Accommodating hundreds of thousands of people in a ten-thousand-square-kilometer fief is a difficult challenge for us. In the future, the Randell Fief will build two cities, seven towns, and twenty-one administrative villages. Laketon will serve as the capital city of the House of Randell and be renamed Lake City. Your Moline Village will be upgraded to a town, a castle will be built, and it will have three administrative villages under its jurisdiction, each with its own farms and pastures. You will have to manage at least one thousand square kilometers of land and twenty thousand people for me.”

“Hon… Honored Master, I… you want me to be a Town mayor?” Moline asked, stammering.

“What? You don’t want to be a Town mayor?” Victor deliberately asked in return.

“Yes, yes, oh no, no, no,” Village Head Moline said, beside himself with joy and speaking incoherently. “I mean, I will absolutely not fail to live up to my lord’s trust!”

“Being a town mayor isn’t that easy. you need to spend more time studying and do your best to improve your abilities.” Victor stopped walking and said, “The Spiked Kidney Beans can help us get through the most difficult times. Do you think we should plant them?”

“We should… but not too many,” Moline hesitated for a moment before speaking truthfully. “My lord, Spiked Kidney Beans grow fast, but they also rot fast. They are easy to plant but hard to harvest. The Church attendants from Laketon come once a month to carefully inspect the Spiked Kidney Bean trees on the terraced fields, afraid that we’ll deliberately kill them. If this goes on and the hills are covered with these trees, the villagers won’t have any wild vegetables or herbs to gather, and I’m afraid we won’t see any wild deer or yellow goats either.”

Victor smiled faintly and said, “The Church won’t give up on improving the Spiked Kidney Bean. They are checking for mutated plants.”

“Mutated plants?”

“Mhm,” Victor nodded. “The Church is very experienced in crop cultivation. The techniques of pruning and grafting fruit trees were invented by monastery monks. Spelt was originally just a type of foxtail grass in the south; it only became the crop it is today after more than four hundred years of improvement by the monasteries. The Church believes the Spiked Kidney Bean can also become an easily storable crop, but they need to expand the planting scale to select mutated plants for cultivation. However, improving the Spiked Kidney Bean will take too long, at least four or five hundred years. We will not act as the Church’s experimental field. The Randell Fief will plant a maximum of one hundred thousand mu of Spiked Kidney Beans.”

“Whether the Spiked Kidney Beans are used to feed pigs or to help the Church provide relief for refugees in the future, that will depend on your abilities.”

Hearing this, how could Moline not understand his master’s meaning? He said with a pained expression, “It is my duty to encourage the villagers to resist the Spiked Kidney Beans, but this… offending Father Miller… My lord, for the sake of my loyalty, you must protect me.”

“Haha.” Victor patted Moline’s shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t you worry, just go ahead and do it! In fact, with the New Agro-husbandry and the water projects, the Church isn’t too concerned about the Spiked Kidney Beans anymore.”

“My lord, I will not disappoint you,” Moline promised, patting his chest.

As they were talking, a few farmers came down from the terraced fields, driving a team of peculiar pack animals. These beasts were about the size of a short-tailed deer, with glossy black fur and white stripes on their flanks. Their limbs were thick and their muscles well-developed. The muscles on their shoulders and back were raised high like a camel’s hump. Their heads resembled a gnu’s, with long ears and no horns, and their large eyes looked adorably silly. Each beast carried four large baskets filled with freshly picked Spiked Kidney Beans. They walked in a single file behind the farmers, appearing very obedient.

“My lord, the Short-legged Camelopes are truly useful. They go up and down the mountains with no trouble at all. With these fellows helping to transport the Spiked Kidney Beans, we save a lot on wages,” Moline said cheerfully.

The Camelope was a herbivorous animal unique to the Giantstone Mountains. They had strong bones and muscles, abundant stamina, and a water sac in their stomachs, allowing them to go for days without drinking. Their cloven hooves were adapted for walking on mountainous terrain, giving them a strong load-bearing and off-road capability. The Camelope’s meat was coarse and difficult to eat, but their temperament was gentle and clever. They usually fed on mountain thorns, and the people of Naville had domesticated and raised them for use as pack animals in the mountain forests.

A domesticated Camelope could carry a load of six hundred pounds and trek nearly thirty kilometers of mountain roads within four hours. Moreover, they were not picky eaters; even on a diet of only straw, they would not lose weight like cattle or sheep, making them extremely suitable for mountain transport.

These Camelopes were brought back from Gasi Town in Naville by the Warhammer Mercenary Company.

During the Season of Fire last year, Victor had split the Warhammer Mercenary Company into three, led by Iron Hammer, Fermi, and Kidd respectively. Fermi led the Kestrel Mercenary Company north into the Dodor Kingdom to open up smuggling routes. Kidd led the Lynx Mercenary Company, responsible for raiding the mountain folk villages within Gambis. Iron Hammer, along with the merchant Weyrich and the Warhammer Mercenary Company, went to Gasi Town in the Kingdom of Naville to discuss the matter of Snow Sugar candied fruit with Baron Garrott, and to purchase fire element crystals and mountain pack animals on the side.

A month ago, the Warhammer Mercenary Company returned fully laden. They had left with only forty-five men and returned with one hundred and six. The mountain folk strongholds along the way were very enthusiastic towards them, and many young mountain folk took the initiative to join the mercenary company. In addition, Iron Hammer also brought back one hundred and twenty fire element crystals, four hundred Camelopes, and a profit of two thousand Gold Sols.

Things had gone very smoothly, but Iron Hammer was on edge. He handed Victor a personal letter from the lord of Gasi Town.

It turned out that Baron Garrott of the Kingdom of Naville had seen through the Warhammer Mercenary Company’s cover. He hoped that Victor could continue to maintain this secret trade route, selling raw sugar and some daily necessities to Gasi Town. In return, he was willing to sell iron, gemstones, medicinal herbs, and element crystals. The four hundred Camelopes were a gift from Baron Garrott to Victor, or rather, an investment by the Baron in the secret trade route. With these pack animals, the volume of trade between them could naturally increase.

The world is never short of smart people, and one should never take others for fools.

Baron Garrott had seen through the Warhammer Mercenary Company’s background after only two encounters, knowing they traveled mountain paths and dealt in smuggled goods. And Baron Garrott’s attitude also proved that Victor’s smuggling strategy was sound; bringing minor lords into the scheme was part of the smuggling network from the outset. After all, it was Victor who had invested enormous manpower and shouldered the greatest risk. The minor lords in remote areas only had to wait for the unlicensed merchants to come to their door to make a profit. Why wouldn’t they be happy to do so? Of course, the strategic value of raw sugar also played a crucial role.

Victor was not swept away by Baron Garrott’s enthusiasm. The smuggling network was not yet ready to surface, and the bottom-up infiltration strategy could not change. If the great lords were to notice the existence of the freemen merchant groups, they would all want a piece of the action, and with everyone trying to interfere, no one would get anything. The entire plan would be crushed by the infighting of the major powers. The common people, on the other hand, seemed insignificant, but they could transport goods to the market for sale. When their will influenced the Church, the village heads, and the minor lords, the great nobles would no longer be able to shake Victor’s dominant position.

Although Baron Garrott was astute, with the information asymmetry, he could only see a single line, and could never imagine Victor’s entire layout. Victor really had nothing to worry about with this partner who had appeared ahead of schedule.

In any case, things were developing in a good direction.

Among the mountain folk, there was no shortage of young people eager to leave the great mountains. They would swell the ranks of the mercenary companies and become a potential military force for the House of Randell.

With the fire element crystals, Victor could build large furnaces near the mineral veins to increase smelting efficiency, and also significantly improve the production efficiency of the giant brick kilns. With the Camelopes, mountain transport capacity would be greatly enhanced, freeing up at least four hundred alchemical militiamen.

With the manpower problem solved, both Victor’s Quicksilver and his smuggling merchant group would enter a period of rapid development. One could say that the fire element crystals and the Camelopes had revitalized the entire smuggling operation.

Currently, the administrative system of the House of Randell was becoming increasingly complete. Lilia had over one hundred stewards and three hundred aides under her. Victor also had one hundred and seventy-one young attendants by his side. With another two years of training, they would all become the backbone of the House of Randell.

In military terms, the Randell Fief had three hundred household guards, six hundred mercenary army, and the Swiftbird light cavalry had expanded to eighty riders, with every elite cavalryman equipped with new-style armor. As for the mercenary companies outside the fief and the Bear Company formed by Baritt, their numbers could not yet be tallied, but the total would be no less than twelve hundred men.

Financially, the annual income from the raw sugar trade alone would be no less than sixty thousand Gold Sols. The sales of wagons, oilcloth, hemostatic potions, and pork were also becoming increasingly popular. It was estimated that the total income for the Randell Fief this year would exceed eighty thousand Gold Sols. As the smuggling merchant group grew, he could also look forward to the trade of Snow Sugar, coffee, and candied fruit.

In addition, the total value of the mountain resources Victor had stockpiled, including leather, Oilwood, medicinal herbs, iron ore, refined iron, silver ingots, Adamantine, Thorium, and Mithril, exceeded one million Gold Sols.

The development of the Great Marsh was proceeding steadily. Imosen currently controlled over three hundred Goblins. These green-skinned runts had an extremely strong reproductive capacity and would exceed one thousand in less than two years. The larger the Goblin clan, the more marsh resources they could gather.

However, the education and research system of the Randell Fief was still stagnant. This was mainly because the foundation of the House of Randell was too shallow; family scholars could not be cultivated overnight. Victor planned to recruit some down-on-their-luck noble scions during the Grand Military Tournament hosted by the York family and have them assist Elina in training the family attendants. On the other hand, he was preparing to offer a bounty to attract talented people to complete the task of papermaking. Before that, the people of the Randell Fief would have to continue using leaves and wood chips to wipe their bottoms.

Hundreds of thousands of people using leaves to wipe their bottoms… Papermaking really could not be delayed!

Everything was on the right track. The next thing to consider was the matter of winning the people’s hearts. Festivals and military parades for the House of Randell had to be put on the agenda, Victor thought to himself.

Just then, a young attendant came riding over on a Swiftbird. Seeing Victor, he dismounted, bowed, and said, “My lord, Lady Elina asks you to return to Silver Moon Manor at once… Lady Sylvia has arrived.”

“Hmm? Where is Lady Sylvia’s carriage?” Victor asked with a frown.

“Lady Sylvia didn’t take a carriage. She came on horseback with a few retainers and is already waiting for you at Silver Moon Manor.”

Victor’s heart couldn’t help but sink. The York family had only recently finished dealing with the remains of the Giant Aberration. Sylvia had been gone from the Randell Fief for less than a month, which meant she had only been back in Goldwater City for a few days before rushing back. This indicated that there must be a major development in the Centaur Hills, and one related to the House of Randell!

“Let’s go!”

Without even a word of farewell to Moline, Victor jumped onto his Swiftbird and, under the escort of a squad of Swiftbird light cavalry, hurried towards Silver Moon Manor.

Two hours later, as Victor returned to Silver Moon Manor, he saw Elina standing at the entrance in a long dress.

“Where is My Lady?” Victor leaped off his Swiftbird. An attendant took the reins and led the bird to the stables.

Elina took off Victor’s cloak and said softly, “My Lady is waiting for you in the bedroom.”

“The bedroom… If she’s waiting for me in the bedroom, it’s never good news!” Victor grumbled as he went up the stairs and walked towards the bedroom.

After knocking a few times, Victor pushed the door open and entered. Sylvia was standing gracefully by the bedroom window, smiling at him. Her pure golden hair was tied back in a ponytail with a hairband, cascading casually down her back. She wore calfskin high heels and a lake-green dress, its hem fluttering to reveal a section of her smooth, beautiful calf. Just that glimpse of white was bewitchingly alluring.

“Am I beautiful?” Sylvia twirled lightly, lifted the hem of her skirt, and curtsied, her azure eyes brimming with a smiling light.

Dresses with high heels had only recently become popular in high-society circles. It was the first time Victor had seen Sylvia dressed like this. At this moment, she was different from her usual mature and glamorous self, appearing instead all the more bright and lovely.

He didn’t know when it had started, but Sylvia’s temperament had gradually shifted from one of dignified nobility to charming allure. Standing with Victor, she didn’t seem out of place; they were like a perfect couple. Victor had to admit that he found this version of Sylvia much more endearing, and also more captivating.

“Absolutely beautiful,” Victor praised sincerely, then asked, “My love, did something happen?”

“I missed you… Did you miss me?” Sylvia asked in a coquettish voice, wrapping her arms around Victor’s neck.

Did he miss her? Did he dare not to miss her?

“I didn’t! Because I meet you in my dreams every night.”

Victor wrapped an arm around her slender waist, speaking the corniest of sweet nothings. His awkward look made Sylvia experience flower branches shaking, but she was not about to let her lover off the hook.

“I’ve delivered myself to your door, and you’re not going to kiss me?”

Her glistening red lips were inches away, her sweet scent lingering at the tip of his nose. At this moment, no trouble in the world was more important than the beauty in his arms.

Chapter 319: Sylvia’s Methods

“Sophia is coming? And she’s bringing a group of barbarian Berserkers?!”

“Yes. The moment I heard the news, I came for a tryst with you. The thought that Sophia will be back by your side, and we’ll only be able to carry on our affair in secret… my heart is broken.”

In the study of Silver Moon Manor, Sylvia leaned against the desk, her hand cupping her cheek. Her fine brows were slightly furrowed, and a sense of sorrow shrouded her exquisite face, yet a mischievous glint sparkled in her sapphire eyes.

Her paramour’s flustered and exasperated expression was truly amusing.

Victor stroked his chin and nodded. “You’re not wrong. Why don’t we… elope!”

“Alright!” Sylvia feigned delight, speaking with deep affection, “My love, I want to see the scenery of the Southern Continent. You’ll accompany me.”

“Of course I’m willing to accompany you, but the Goldwater River is too wide, and it’s full of giant beasts. I’m afraid it would be very difficult for us to cross.”

“That is indeed a problem.” Sylvia nodded, then pursed her lips into a smile. “Sophia is very rich. Why don’t you trick her into building a large port for us? Then wouldn’t we be able to cross the river?”

“So that’s your goal,” Victor said irritably. “I want to know where you plan on settling the barbarians.”

Sylvia pouted. “The Viscount’s wife’s guests are naturally to be settled by Viscount Randell. Don’t forget, you and your wife are not my vassals.”

“I was so foolish back then, not realizing I should have clung to your leg for support!” Victor said with regret. Sylvia shot him a triumphant and charming glare. “You’ve certainly held your fair share.”

A blush crept up Victor’s handsome face. He coughed to cover it up and said with a serious expression, “My love, there are good guests and bad guests. If this group of barbarians proves to be hostile, are you confident you can suppress them?”

Sylvia answered frankly, “Barbarians are naturally stronger than us humans. According to Clement’s letter, Elder Harald can easily overpower Duke Peter, so he must be a Legendary-rank Berserker. I’m not confident I can beat him. What’s more, they have three Gold-rank Berserkers and over a hundred barbarian warriors among them. That’s enough strength to crush The Rose Knights.”

“However, Clement will arrange for one thousand elite Sacred Warriors to monitor the barbarians’ movements. The Legendary warrior Tournans and the rank-five battle priest Olaf will also remain in the Centaur Hills. With the Church’s assistance, we don’t have to worry too much about armed conflict. After all, these barbarians are isolated and lack reinforcements.”

Seeing Sylvia’s calm expression, Victor sighed. “My love, you’re being awfully bold. If these barbarians turn on us, they’ll be even harder to deal with than the Ant-man tide.”

The Ant-men were numerous and fought without fear of death; even a Gold Knight would likely perish if caught in their tide. But they lacked intelligence, their movements rigid and almost mechanical. Once an Ant-man chief was killed, the swarm would start killing one another. Human armies could exploit their weaknesses and implement targeted tactics, making it not so difficult to annihilate them.

The barbarians’ overall numbers were certainly less than the Ant-men’s, but their individual strength was formidable. They had monstrous stamina, were skilled in battle, and possessed exceptional mobility for raids. If the barbarians were to adopt guerilla tactics, they could devastate the land for thousands of kilometers, causing destruction and panic far beyond what the Ant-man plague could compare to.

Mobile warfare was a tactic that Knights excelled at, so Sylvia naturally understood Victor’s point. She shook her head gently and asked, “The barbarians want to cross the river. Who can refuse them? Who dares refuse them?”

Victor was taken aback, rendered speechless. Sylvia sighed. “I am also very worried about the barbarians temporarily residing in the Centaur Hills, but from the standpoint of all humanity, no power can refuse the barbarians’ request!”

“The Sasan Empire, the Kingdom of Naville, and the Kingdom of Sus did not refuse the barbarians entry. The Kingdom of Borea did not refuse them passage across the river. Gambis and the Centaur Hills likewise cannot refuse their visit. This is about showing our stance!” Sylvia said to Victor, “My love, the barbarians’ request is not a command. They respect human territory, so we must show them a friendly attitude. Even if we cannot form an alliance with Mount Arreat, we absolutely cannot make a powerful enemy for humanity. And you, especially, have an inescapable duty!”

Just because of that convenient wife, Sophia, it’s my inescapable duty?

Victor was stunned for a long moment before saying dejectedly, “Sophia caused this mess, yet I’m the one who has to bear the burden! That woman could have clearly sent the barbarians across the river. And the Pope… why did he lead the barbarians to the Centaur Hills?”

“Sophia almost became someone else’s wife. Are you really not angry?” Sylvia smiled sweetly, moving to Victor’s side to gently massage his temples. “Having a stance doesn’t mean we don’t need to probe the barbarians’ true intentions. Clement believes their journey south is related to the Forest Centaurs’ Westward Migration, and that’s something I want to figure out. The conflict between the Kingdom of Borea and Sophia is just a pretext. The barbarians could have easily abandoned Sophia and cooperated with the Boreans, but they didn’t. Since the barbarians aren’t in a hurry, we can take our time probing them to find out the truth of the matter.”

“Besides, this is a golden opportunity!”

A smile played on Sylvia’s lips, and her eyes shone, her radiant face dazzlingly bright. Victor took her soft, slender hand and asked, “Because Sophia is paying to build the port?”

“That’s only one part of it.” Sylvia raised a delicate eyebrow, pecked Victor on the lips, and flicked a finger. The small golden bell on the table let out a melodious chime. The old steward of Rose Manor entered the study carrying an oak box. He silently placed the box on the desk, bowed, and retreated.

Victor opened the wooden box. Inside was a pale red brick. He picked it up to examine it and said in surprise, “Is this… an Iron brick? The quality seems subpar.”

“Yes.” Sylvia nodded. “My craftsmen improved upon the Hill Camp’s iron brick formula. They replaced the crucial Goldsilk Grass with Earthvine, Mountain-Mist Moss, red clay, and Fishmen mucus, then added iron powder and slag to produce a new Iron brick. Its strength is about the same as a rock brick, but its production cost is higher than a normal Iron brick.”

The Alchemical auxiliary soldiers had mastered three brick-making techniques. The first was the Thorium brick, the second was the Iron brick, and the rock brick could only be considered the third. By adding two steps to the rock brick production process and mixing in a certain proportion of iron powder and slag, one could produce a type-two Iron brick. Iron bricks were heavier than limestone and as hard as obsidian. However, their practicality was far inferior to the excellent and inexpensive rock brick. Firstly, the manufacturing process was complex; grinding the iron and crushing the slag was time-consuming and labor-intensive, not to mention the considerable expense of transporting iron ore. In fact, manufacturing Iron bricks was less cost-effective than quarrying stone. Secondly, Iron bricks were heavy and difficult to transport. The soft soil of the hills couldn’t bear the weight of an iron brick castle, and the height of iron brick walls was also limited.

Therefore, Victor had never considered producing Iron bricks. When Sylvia had visited the Hill Camp, he had generously given the formula to the York family. Yet, the York family’s craftsmen had modified the production process, increasing its cost and reducing its strength, with the only highlight being the replacement of Goldsilk Grass.

Victor’s mind raced, and he instantly understood the true meaning of the new Iron brick. He couldn’t help but exclaim in admiration, “Passing off fakes as the real thing? Use the new Iron brick for the outer walls to hide the rock bricks inside, then use the new brick’s production process to placate the major powers… A truly brilliant method.”

Sylvia shook her head. “My love, the major powers are no fools. The new Iron brick won’t buy us much time. The rock brick and the giant brick kilns will have to be handed over eventually.”

“Our original strategy was to secretly stockpile rock bricks, then, once the canals run through the entire Centaur Hills, we would focus on building family castles and fortresses, stabilizing Gambis on one hand while negotiating with the other powers on the other… But I had no confidence at all!”

Sylvia smiled wryly. “The value of rock bricks is too great! Once the news leaks, the Church, the Sasan Empire, Dodor, Naville… all the powers will join forces against us. Forget the mere York family, even the Kingdom of Gambia wouldn’t be able to withstand the pressure from all sides.” As she spoke, she looked up, her expression perking up. “But now, we have an excellent opportunity to lay our plans at our own pace!”

“Sophia is using the barbarians’ power to protect herself. And we will use the situation to build our cities!” Sylvia stood and walked to the map on the back wall of the study, her slender finger pointing to the location of the sluice gate. “Building the port will require a large amount of stone. I will propose to Sophia that we use Iron bricks to build it, requiring her to purchase iron ore for the Centaur Hills. Then we’ll leak the Iron brick formula. No one will care about an expensive Iron brick. The port is being built for the barbarians. Even if someone discovers the existence of the rock bricks, they won’t dare pressure us until after the barbarians have left the Centaur Hills!”

The rock brick technology was bound to be exposed, and handing it over meant handing over the design for the giant brick kilns. While the Centaur Hills would gain immense wealth from it, competition for manpower would follow. Increased wages for workers was a minor issue; as a Pioneer Fief, the Centaur Hills’ appeal to refugees was far less than that of established territories. A lack of labor would inevitably slow the progress of the water project and infrastructure construction, thereby affecting the development of the New Agro-husbandry.

Although the York family was particularly careful when producing rock bricks, the more they produced and stockpiled, the greater the risk of exposure. If the secret of the rock bricks got out, the development strategy Victor had designed for the Centaur Hills would suffer a severe setback. The initial investment of four million would double, a twenty-year development plan might become a forty-year one, and with the reduced output caused by the lagging New Agro-husbandry, the losses would be immense.

Sylvia decided to go with the flow, designing a clever scheme to use Sophia’s funds to build a port and acquire iron materials. The barbarian guests would make the major powers hesitate to act, and the Iron bricks would be used to conceal the rock bricks. The Centaur Hills could then launch a massive construction campaign, building cities and fortresses to quickly achieve its strategic goals. It was a plan that killed many birds with one stone.

Victor admitted it was a brilliant strategy. But why settle the barbarians in the Randell Fief? With high-ranking clergy from the Church and over a thousand Sacred Warriors stationed in his fief, what about his Alchemy Tower? What about the smuggling guild? What about the Mithril mine?

Thinking of this, Victor asked tentatively, “My love, could we settle the barbarians in another fief? There are over forty thousand hired workers here. The barbarians will cause panic among them, which isn’t conducive to the construction of the giant fortress.”

“Barbarians are Children of the High Mountain; they are accustomed to living in mountainous regions. The Relier Mountains to the west of the Randell Fief are a perfect place to settle them.”

Holy shit! That damn… I’m going to lose the mountain stronghold too!

“No!” Victor said decisively.

Sylvia stared at him, her burning gaze seeming to pierce through his every thought. Just as Victor’s scalp began to tingle, she chuckled softly and asked, “Do you hate the thought of seeing Sophia that much?”

Victor said nothing, which was a tacit admission.

Well, a pillow delivered just as I was getting sleepy. Excellent!

Sylvia pondered for a moment before saying, “Sophia, she…”

“My love, what are you trying to say?”

“She’s very beautiful…”

“Sophia is indeed quite beautiful, but aren’t all female knights like that?”

Sylvia seemed to want to say more but hesitated, her conflicted expression both charming and novel. Victor found it intriguing and was secretly amused. Sylvia shot him an annoyed glare, mulled it over for a moment, and asked, “My love, do you understand Sophia?”

“Not very well… She seems to come from a minor noble family in the Kingdom of Sus.” Victor searched his memories, then asked curiously, “It seems you’re also from the Sus nobility. What is your relationship with Sophia?”

“We’re relatives.” Sylvia smiled and said, “All nobles from Sus can claim some sort of kinship… When I reached the peak of my power, I became Queen Cynthia’s cousin. I value Sophia, so she is my cousin. Before I met her, she was just an apprentice knight struggling at the bottom… Do you want to hear the story?”

Sylvia sat back down next to Victor, her long, beautiful legs crossed elegantly. She picked up the coffee cup from the sofa table and took a light sip. Victor nodded, and only then did she continue, “The first time I met Sophia, I was leading a few attendant knights on a hunting exercise in the wilderness. At the time, Sophia and her Caravan were being pursued by a pack of Gnolls. Sophia could have easily broken through on her own, but she refused to abandon her companions and ended up heavily injured. I saved them, and Sophia offered me the Mithril she was smuggling as a reward… It turned out she was privately purchasing Mithril and, to evade investigation by the Kingdom of Sus, chose a remote wilderness path, only to run into a large pack of Gnolls. After I saved her, she used the Mithril she had worked so hard to transport to thank me.”

“The Sophia of back then didn’t have the beauty, wisdom, or strength she has now, but her personality has never changed. She’s like a Satyr Hound; once she bites her prey, she never lets go.” As she spoke, Sylvia gave Victor a deep look. “Minor families have limited resources. Parents have many children, and while they select the best to be their heirs, they cannot look after all of them. Competition among siblings in minor families is fierce, and familial affection is weak. You should understand this well.”

Victor interjected, “My family had no effect on me whatsoever.”

Sylvia nodded. “At least you received Catherine’s court education. Sophia wasn’t so lucky. She’s eager to prove herself, seizing every opportunity and cherishing everything that belongs to her, including her companions. At the same time, she detests her family. I saw great potential and noble qualities in her, and I hoped to recruit her, but it wasn’t easy. And she put on such a good act.”

“In the eyes of outsiders, Sophia is a standard noble female knight, but in reality, she is rebellious and untamable, with a will of iron beneath a gentle exterior. Catherine wanting Sophia to give up her merchant association deeply angered her.”

“So, Sophia betrayed the little Baron Wimbledon?” Victor said with a faint smile.

Sylvia laughed, “You lived in the palace for three years, and everyone thought you were the Queen’s man. I was even preparing to properly discipline you, yet you unexpectedly abandoned Catherine. Clearly, Sophia hurt you deeply. I’m very curious, when did you fall in love with her?”

The one who got hurt was the little Baron… it doesn’t have a single Copper Sol to do with me!

Victor silently complained to himself, but in order to resist the barbarians settling in the Randell Fief, he had to continue playing the victim. “The first time I saw Sophia, she and I had a meal at the same table.”

Sylvia froze for a second, then collapsed into Victor’s arms with laughter. “Catherine must have never imagined that three years of education couldn’t compare to a single meal with Sophia… The two of you really are alike.”

“What’s your game, telling me all this?” Victor asked with a frown.

Sylvia sat up straight, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She smiled sweetly, “Sophia regrets it deeply. If she had known your feelings for her earlier, she would never have given you to me. This has nothing to do with love; it’s entirely due to her personality. Sophia cherishes every sincere bond and will not easily betray the trust of her companions. It’s precisely because of this that the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild has rallied around her. Of course, it’s also possible she might fall in love with you because of it.”

Victor rubbed his chin, saying suspiciously, “You’ve said so many good things about Sophia… I have a bad feeling about this.”

Sylvia ignored him and continued, “Sophia chose the most difficult path. She wants to create her own commercial family. Now, she has nowhere left to go.”

“Minor families pledge allegiance to major families, major families form factions, and the various factions converge to form a kingdom. Every Knight has a place they belong to; the stronger their ability, the higher their status in their faction. The six great families of Gambis represent six great powers, and all the Gold Knights come from these six families. Marquess Golan and I both came from minor families, but didn’t we end up joining the Auguste and York families, respectively?”

“If a Gold Knight wants to start their own family, how should the kingdom’s resources be distributed? How should the political landscape be balanced? Sophia wants to create her own family—how could that possibly work? I’ve been waiting for her to come to her senses, but I never expected this day to come so suddenly.”

“The moment Sophia accepted the barbarians’ commission, her path was cut off. A Gold-rank Berserker follower is the mountain tribe’s recognition of Sophia, but from a lord’s perspective, Sophia and her followers are actually a bridge for communication between the mountain tribes and humans. If the major powers want to win Sophia over, they can’t let her form an independent commercial family. It’s inevitable that the Wimbledon Merchant Association will be suppressed, and it will continue until Sophia chooses a side.”

A thought sparked in Victor’s mind, and he pressed, “Are you saying the Wimbledon Merchant Association is finished?”

“It’ll just have a new master. That might take some time,” Sylvia said, shaking her head. “Sophia’s current status is far more important than that of a commercial noble.”

“Heh heh, if Sophia had foreseen this situation, I wonder if she would still have accepted the barbarians’ commission.”

“She definitely would have! No one would pass up such a golden opportunity. The difference is, others would have chosen to become a lord of the Sasan Empire, not a commercial noble,” Sylvia replied.

“That’s true.” Victor thought for a moment and nodded in agreement. Sylvia leaned into his embrace and said, her breath like orchids, “My love, as long as you accept Sophia again, I won’t be in such a difficult position.”

“…”

This woman plans to swallow Sophia whole—her, her money, and her barbarian followers! I knew she had something up her sleeve when she threw herself at me…

Victor asked angrily, “Are you planning to give me back to Sophia?”

“Are you angry?” Sylvia raised a willow-leaf brow, her voice laced with killing intent. “Then I’ll go kill Sophia!” The temperature in the study instantly plummeted.

Victor was startled and quickly said, “You don’t have to be so ruthless, do you?!”

Sylvia burst into laughter, the frost on her face melting like a frozen river in spring. She said softly, “In my heart, you are more important than Sophia and the barbarians combined. Actually, I wanted to give Sophia to you, just like the sisters Nicole and Elina, and myself… It’s just that I shoulder too many responsibilities, and I very much need your support. My love, you’ll help me, right?”

“And if I refuse?” Victor’s tone was quite dissatisfied. Sylvia tilted her head and looked at him for a long while before smiling with certainty, “You won’t refuse, because you have a strong possessiveness towards women. No matter what, Sophia is your wife. You couldn’t bear to see her in another’s arms.”

“…” Victor was dumbfounded. “This… this, do I have to admit it? Yes, I have to admit it. My love, you’re right!”

“Actually, I have no grudge against Sophia,” Victor said, spreading his hands helplessly. “But, have you considered Wildwillow City? If the barbarians settle in the Randell Fief, the Chapman, Wellington, and Briatte families are bound to raise their guard. Who will have the mind for business then? Will the refugee workers still dare to move to the Centaur Hills?”

“Indeed…” Sylvia nodded, then shook her head. “But your attitude is very important to Sophia. Very important!”

“You’re oversimplifying Sophia. She’s a strong-willed, High-ranked Knight, not some noble lady with no opinions of her own,” Victor said dismissively.

Sylvia took Victor’s hand and said seriously, “My love, it is you who is oversimplifying yourself. Right now, your attitude represents my attitude, and the attitude of the York family.”

While Victor was influenced by the York family, the York family was also influenced by Victor. Sylvia had traveled a thousand kilometers from Goldwater City to the Randell Fief and thrown herself into his arms just to gain his support. Beneath the tender affection was respect and trust. For that alone, Sylvia was enough to win Victor’s heart.

Victor and Sylvia shared a smile. He said, “Alright, Sophia is my wife, and a stunning beauty at that. I’ll treat her well; that’s not difficult. As for the barbarians and the Sacred Warriors, we can settle them in the mountains west of Raven Town. It’s just that the people of Dodor will be angry.”

Sylvia’s eyes lit up, and she chuckled lightly. “The people of Dodor? Who cares.”

Chapter 320: Suspicious

Dodor Kingdom, Stonetooth City.

Lord Eckhart sat in the Magistrate’s Office waiting room, quietly awaiting an audience with Magistrate Wamon Dwemic. A servant from the Magistrate’s Office cleared away the untouched, now-cool pine nut tea and served a fresh, steaming cup, its fragrant aroma wafting through the air.

This was the ninth cup.

Before this, Eckhart had already drained seven cups of pine nut tea and excused himself three times. This was long enough for the Magistrate to finish his official business and take a nice, long nap. But compared to the five days the caravan had already been stranded in Stonetooth City, this amount of time was nothing.

The more dismissive the Magistrate acted, the more patient Eckhart became.

Stonetooth City was the capital city of the Dwemic family, and the Dwemic family was one of the seven great houses of the Dodor Kingdom. They had ruled the kingdom’s southeastern region for over seven hundred years, possessing profound heritage and extraordinary power. As the magistrate of Stonetooth City, with four apprentice knights and six hundred magistrate soldiers under his command, Wamon Dwemic certainly had the right to be arrogant.

However, the Wimbledon Merchant Association was no weakling, either.

The Wimbledon Merchant Association held a monopoly on the green wheat, raw sugar, and Purple Cane wine trade, with its caravans traveling between all the major kingdoms. In terms of wealth and influence, the Wimbledon Merchant Association was even above the Dwemic family.

Eckhart was in charge of the caravan responsible for trade in Stonetooth City. He had always maintained good private relations with the mid-level leaders of the Dwemic family, and the annual expenses just to grease the palms of the Magistrate’s Office were no less than one thousand Gold Sols.

One doesn’t bite the hand that feeds them. Having received so many benefits from Eckhart, Wamon had no reason, in principle or in sentiment, to be so cold to an old friend. The magistrate’s abnormal behavior convinced Eckhart that he could find the answer to his problem here, but he truly didn’t want to drink any more pine nut tea.

Sunlight streamed into the Magistrate’s Office from the western window. A guard entered the waiting room, bowed, and said, “Your Lordship, Lord Wamon is waiting for you in his office.”

Eckhart nodded, picked up the long wooden box from the table, and followed the guard through a cruciform corridor to the office door. The guard raised his hand and knocked twice on the oak door before pushing it open and gesturing for Eckhart to enter.

On the wall directly facing the door hung the mounted head of a giant bear. Its owner was sitting behind the desk.

“Eckhart, I thought you would have left on your own,” Magistrate Lord Wamon said, his eyebrows knitted together, making no effort to hide his exasperation and displeasure.

“My lord, I’m not one to be obtuse. The caravan still has over one hundred cartloads of goods to sell. If I go back like this, my four months of hard work will have been for nothing.” Eckhart smiled and pushed the long wooden box in his hand across the desk to the magistrate.

Wamon opened the box and took out a longsword. The blade was chillingly sharp, its purplish-gold body covered in swirling patterns that shimmered like dragon scales in the sunlight.

“An adamantine sword forged with the hundred-forging technique? Could it be the work of master craftsman Bernado? It seems you spent quite a sum,” Wamon said with delight, caressing the longsword.

“I heard your eldest son’s coming-of-age ceremony is soon. This is my gift to him,” Eckhart said lightly.

“A fine sword…” Wamon nodded in satisfaction and smiled. “Eckhart, we’ve been old friends for over a decade. Let’s speak plainly. What’s on your mind?”

“There are fifty-eight merchants in Stonetooth City who specifically take my goods. This time, three of their families have been wiped out, and another eight have sold their shops. The remaining dozens are all unwilling to take any more of our stock. And not a single one of the over six hundred shops in Stonetooth City dares to do business with us.”

“I did some investigating and found out that Stonetooth City has three new hyena chiefs recently. They’ve sent people to threaten the merchants, forbidding anyone from doing business with the Wimbledon caravan.” Eckhart shook his head with a wry smile. “I originally thought this was your doing. Now, I just want to know… is this temporary, or will it be like this from now on?”

Wamon pondered for a moment before saying, “It’s not that all the shops don’t dare to do business with the Wimbledon caravan… I have a list here. Take a look.”

Eckhart took the parchment scroll from Wamon and unrolled it. It was filled with the names of shops opened by vassals of the Dwemic family, including three of the magistrate’s own general stores.

These were all old acquaintances of Eckhart’s. In fact, they bought up sixty percent of the caravan’s goods. However, their purchasing price was less than half of what the freemen merchants paid, while their selling price was double.

The Wimbledon Merchant Association had its own regulations. Shops with a vassal background were considered official merchants, while freemen merchants were referred to as unlicensed merchants. Unlicensed merchants catered to commoners and small lords in remote areas; they were the caravan’s main source of profit. The official merchants, on the other hand, served the great lords. The trade share they occupied and the prices of their goods had to accommodate the needs of the various major powers, and these terms were personally negotiated by Marquess Sophia and could not be easily changed.

Eckhart could not accept the magistrate’s proposal. He handed the scroll back and shook his head. “You know I can’t break the merchant association’s rules.”

Wamon took the parchment scroll, slid it into a drawer, and said with regret, “This is the only way I can help you. If you don’t agree, then you should just haul your goods away. There’s no point in dragging this out.”

“What on earth happened?” Eckhart couldn’t help but ask.

The magistrate was silent for a moment, then spoke: “As of now, all freemen merchants in Stonetooth City can only do business with the Southwind Merchant Association!”

“The Southwind Merchant Association? I’ve never heard of it.”

“It was originally the Ephesus Merchant Association. It’s now under the control of the Peter family from the Kingdom of Borea. The head of the merchant association seems to be Duke Peter’s eldest son, Raymond Peter.” Wamon sighed in resignation. “This was all arranged from above. There’s nothing I can do. Eckhart, I’ll be frank with you. If the Wimbledon Merchant Association wants to do business with freemen merchants in Stonetooth City, the higher-ups must first come to an agreement.”

Eckhart frowned. “Are you saying my master needs to have a talk with Marquess Dwemic?”

“No!” Wamon shook his head, then pointed a finger upwards. “The Marquess Sophia must personally persuade His Majesty the King.”

Persuade His Majesty King Friedrich? Does that mean no freemen merchants in the entire Dodor Kingdom will do business with us?

Eckhart was aghast, stunned for a long moment before saying bitterly, “I understand… My apologies, I must hurry back to Gambis.”

Just as Eckhart was about to leave, the magistrate called out to him.

“Old friend, you should start making other plans.”

“Thank you.” Eckhart forced a twitch of his lips and walked out of the Magistrate’s Office, his spirit crushed.

The sun was setting, and the streets of Stonetooth City were teeming with people. Eckhart pulled his light, breathable fine linen coat tighter around himself and boarded his carriage to return to the inn.

Upon arriving at the inn, Eckhart climbed to the second floor with a grim face and shut himself in his room. Seeing his grave expression, his deputies dared not approach to ask what was wrong. After a while, Eckhart emerged from his room. He handed a parchment letter to his assistant and instructed, “Send a Red-Eyed messenger crow. Get this letter to the Marquess Sophia.”

——————————

The sun had set, and the silver moon was rising.

The outskirts east of Laurel Town were dim and hazy under the night sky. Twenty-odd figures walked along a desolate path, guided by the pale moonlight. The wormwood on either side of the path was half a man’s height, and its leaves rustled as the evening breeze blew. Suddenly, a strange cry came from deep within the wormwood, and the leaves shook violently, parting like waves. The burly man in the lead was so startled that he dropped to the ground.

“Pete, it was just a stray cat. How can you be this frightened?!” a man in his fifties with a full head of gray hair mocked.

The burly man scrambled up from the ground, his muscular arms crossed. His scar-slashed face, which usually looked fierce, now wore an expression of fawning fear. He stammered, “I… I was spooked by those people…”

“Enough,” the gray-haired man cut off the man’s explanation and asked impatiently, “Where is Sveinn?”

“Soon, soon. We cross the grove ahead, and after another five hundred meters, you’ll see the abandoned pasture. Boss Sveinn and the brothers are hiding inside,” the burly man, Pete, said, nodding and bowing obsequiously.

“Keep leading the way.”

“Yes, yes, Lord Barol.”

The gray-haired man was none other than Barol, the head of Quicksilver, the House of Randell’s spy network. He was acting on Victor’s orders to develop an outer line for Quicksilver in the Dodor Kingdom.

Four months ago, Barol had propped up a secret agent in Laurel Town, Pete’s boss, Sveinn. Afterward, Barol received new orders from the House of Randell: Victor required Quicksilver to provide logistical and intelligence support for the Kestrel Mercenary Company and The Bear Company. With Quicksilver’s assistance, Fermi’s Kestrel Mercenary Company had absorbed a dozen freemen merchants, infiltrated the mountains to find mountain folk fortified villages, opened up smuggling routes, and established mercenary strongholds. Baritt’s Bear Company had also received ample supplies and was now heading toward the Warton Great Plains.

Having completed his mission, Barol returned to Redleaf Town only to find that Sveinn’s power base had been uprooted by a group of outsiders, and Sveinn and several of his confidants were nowhere to be found. Just as Barol was preparing to investigate the identity of these outsiders, Sveinn’s thug, Pete, contacted him. Pete claimed that Sveinn was hiding in the outskirts of Laurel Town and offered to lead Barol to him.

There were many illogical aspects to the upheaval in Laurel Town. How could Pete’s clumsy little trick deceive the cunning old fox, Barol? According to spy protocol, he should have silenced Pete on the spot, erased all traces, and withdrawn immediately. As for Sveinn, he was just a temporary secret agent for Quicksilver; his life or death was of little importance.

However, Laurel Town was very important to Quicksilver.

Large merchant consortiums used the radiating influence of major cities to manage the circulation of goods and distribution of materials throughout a territory. Victor did the opposite. The Randell family’s smuggling caravans first took control of mountain strongholds and refugee camps, then influenced the associated villages. The village heads would bring the goods to the town market to sell, and local caravans would naturally sell the goods in the capital city.

To put it bluntly, it was the difference between influencing the countryside from the city, and encircling the city from the countryside.

Laurel Town was located on the southeastern border of the Dodor Kingdom. A twelve-day walk to the west would lead to the Dwemic family’s Stonetooth City, while to its east and north lay vast mountain forests. Four of the seven villages under its jurisdiction were connected to mountain folk fortified villages. Laurel Town was rich in spices, flax, and iron ore. Although its location was remote, it was frequented by an endless stream of caravans and had a permanent population of over twenty thousand.

Remote location, abundant produce, thriving trade, large population, and a connection between the capital city and the countryside—Laurel Town’s conditions perfectly met Quicksilver’s needs for developing an outer line.

Sveinn was a homegrown ruffian from Redleaf Town. Barol had helped him replace the previous boss. Though his time in power was short, he had gained the magistrate’s recognition. While the magistrate wouldn’t care about a change in the local underworld leadership, he couldn’t possibly turn a blind eye to two gang bosses being replaced within a few months.

Barol smelled something unusual. He didn’t know who his opponent was, but he was certain of three things.

First, ruffians had no integrity to speak of. Even if Sveinn was still alive, he must have sold him out completely. The thug Pete was leading them into a trap. Second, the opponent was not a fellow spy. A spy’s methods were low-key and cautious; replacing two bosses in such a short time would look suspicious even to a blind man. The third and most important point was that if the magistrate wanted to deal with Quicksilver, he could have organized a capture within the town. There would be no need to set a trap.

Since the opponent was neither a spy nor the magistrate, there was nothing to worry about.

Barol decided to adopt the simplest, most brutal method: crush the trap, capture a couple of them alive, and interrogate them for information on their origins. The Elite Guards of the House of Randell were the source of his confidence.

The path grew narrower, and the shadowy grove was not far off. Red Wolf suddenly stopped and said in a low voice, “Chief, stop. There’s danger ahead.”

The master thief Red Wolf had a superhuman intuition for danger. Barol, knowing Red Wolf’s abilities well, gestured for the group to halt. He sighed, “Pete, do you know why I didn’t light any torches?” Before Pete could answer, he pointed at the grove. “If there was a squad of crossbowmen hiding in those trees, we’d be living targets walking with torches.”

Pete’s face changed drastically. He twisted his body, trying to dive into the wormwood, but a burly man beside Barol grabed his shoulder. The excruciating pain of his shoulder bone cracking and the fear of death made Pete howl and struggle desperately, but the hand was like cast iron, impossible to shake.

Barol continued as if to himself, “This distance is just outside the range of a crossbow. But if you have military heavy crossbows…” His voice suddenly rose. “I still won’t admit defeat!”

Swoosh!

The roosting birds in the grove shot into the sky, followed by the sounds of clashing swords, crashing trees, tearing flesh, and cries of pain and alarm.

“Send in ten more men to support our brothers inside. Remember to leave a few alive.”

Ten figures shot out from the group, flying like arrows from a bow into the woods two hundred meters away. The sounds of battle grew even more intense.

A full quarter of an hour passed before the grove gradually fell silent.

Five men slowly walked out of the woods. The brawny man in the lead was carrying a captive curled into a ball. He said in a deep voice, “We took out thirty-nine enemies and lost one brother. Only got one alive. The rest of the brothers are cleaning up the battlefield and searching for any who slipped through.”

Barol asked in surprise, “Only one alive? And we lost a brother? Were they tough opponents?”

“Yes, they fought tenaciously. Two of them were especially skilled. They worked together to kill one of our brothers before one of them was killed, leaving only this one to be captured. He tried to kill himself, so we had to break his limbs and spine. He’s gone into shock, so we can’t interrogate him for now.”

Barol couldn’t help but furrow his graying eyebrows. The combat prowess of the Elite Guards was in no way inferior to that of veteran apprentice knights, and they were particularly skilled at night combat in complex environments. Eighteen Elite Guards wiping out forty enemies in a dense forest was not surprising, but for these enemies to choose death over surrender meant they were no ordinary gang thugs.

In Barol’s experience, only elite soldiers or members of a top-tier mercenary company possessed such a tenacious will to fight.

Elite soldiers wouldn’t need to ambush us. Did someone hire a mercenary company to deal with us? Could Quicksilver have been exposed?

Barol thought for a moment, then said, “Bring these two. We’re going into the woods to take a look.”

Chapter 321: The Second Close Encounter

The forest was thick with low, dense jinkin trees. Due to the absence of any large creatures, the forest floor was covered in a thick layer of humus and dead leaves. Leather boots made a soft rustling sound as they trod upon it.

Barol and his men held their torches high. After walking for a short while, they smelled a pungent, bloody odor. As the group ventured deeper, the smell of blood grew so strong that even the unique, rotten stench of the jinkin wood forest couldn’t mask it.

The small oilwood torches cast out light, dispelling the darkness that shrouded the woods and gradually illuminating a broken tree. It was as thick as an adult’s thigh, its trunk cut a smooth, clean plane, smeared with bright red blood. The treetop lay toppled on the ground next to two pools of blood and some fragments of human tissue, but there were no bodies.

A scene of the battle formed in Barol’s mind: a hidden sentry, his back to this jinkin tree, was monitoring the surroundings. An Elite Guard flashed past, felling both man and tree with a single stroke of his sword. Then, faster than lightning, he rushed into the ambush point and swiftly cleared out the enemy. After the battle, the Elite Guards cleaned the battlefield, searched for any remaining enemies, and gathered the bodies and their belongings in one place to await inspection.

“A little faster,” Barol called out in a low voice.

They weren’t far from Laurel Town. The identity of the enemy was unknown, as was their connection to the town’s lord. With so many dead, it was best to conduct their inspection and withdraw as quickly as possible.

The group picked up their pace and soon arrived at a clearing deep in the forest. Dozens of bodies were laid out on the ground in four neat rows. Their weapons were piled to one side. Some of the Elite Guards stood watch around the perimeter, while others were digging pits with portable shovels.

Barol glanced around and noticed that the number of Elite Guards was off. He asked, “Where are the other brothers?”

“Four brothers are on watch at the edge of the forest,” replied Badu, an Elite Guard.

Barol nodded in satisfaction and turned to give his orders. “Inspect the bodies and their belongings. Be quick about it.”

“Don’t worry, Chief. This won’t take long,” said Red Wolf, pulling on a pair of moleskin gloves. The other middle-aged men did the same, but their expressions were placid, as if this were a common task. Red Wolf, the master thief, however, wore the excited look of a man about to profit from the dead.

The bodies had been pieced together to look “complete.” Their skin was pale and gloomy from severe blood loss, and their faces were frozen in their final moments—some bewildered, some terrified, some furious, some in pain. The flickering torchlight cast dancing shadows that seemed like the resentful, struggling souls of the dead, making the scene both terrifying and grim.

Barol’s subordinates were either ruthless men he had carefully trained himself or his former spy colleagues. None of them were a gentle sort; a scene like this was hardly enough to frighten them. In truth, the average refugee, upon encountering a dead body, would at most feel a bit nauseous before looting it of all valuables.

“Crossbows, just as I thought… A total of fifteen. What a generous hand!”

“The coarse flax robes are half-new, half-old. Some don’t even fit right. Nothing special here. The boots are high quality, though, and only two of them didn’t have boots that fit. Heh, interesting.”

“Their muscles are firm, bones thick. Old scars from whipping on their backs. The calluses on their hands are a perfect match for the training characteristics of elite soldiers.”

Crossbows could be used to assassinate an apprentice knight and were thus a regulated weapon. Thieves’ Guilds and mercenary companies might be able to get their hands on a few, but the ruffians of Laurel Town would never possess such deadly arms. Well-fitting boots were crucial to a soldier’s mobility and could only be custom-made, making them quite expensive. Common thugs usually rummaged for old boots in general stores; they wouldn’t spend money on custom battle boots. Elite soldiers trained in martial arts from a young age; if their form was even slightly off, their instructor would use a whip to correct the mistake, leaving scars on their backs. Most mercenaries wouldn’t have such disciplinary whip marks.

All signs pointed to these enemies being not ordinary gang thugs or mercenaries, but systematically trained elite soldiers. But why would elite soldiers ambush a group of outsiders? If Quicksilver had been exposed, why hadn’t they dispatched an army to encircle and destroy them? Could the two men who killed the Elite Guards have been apprentice knights? But their features and skin looked nothing like that of nobles.

The more Barol thought, the more confused he became. A middle-aged man with a full head of brown hair and an aquiline nose walked over, dragging a corpse and a severed arm. “Barol, come take a look at this one.”

Barol illuminated the body with his torch but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Frowning, he asked, “Saji, what’s wrong?”

“This man’s facial bones are gaunt. Logically, his skeleton should be slender, but his arm bones are much thicker and sturdier than a normal person’s. Don’t you find that strange?” Saji with the aquiline nose handed a severed arm to Barol.

Barol took the limb, observing the exposed bone, then carefully felt the facial bones of the corpse. Just as Saji had said, the corpse’s arm bones and skull were completely out of proportion, as if they didn’t belong to the same person.

“What does this mean?” Barol stared at his former spy colleague and asked in a low voice.

“I don’t know.” Saji let out a soft breath and shook his head. “From the arm bone, this man should have been a powerfully built man of about 1.9 meters, but he’s only 1.75 meters tall…” He paused, then asked, “Do you still remember Old Charlie the Undertaker?”

“Of course I remember. Old Charlie’s autopsy training was the most disgusting. Besides you, not a single one of the lads passed.” Barol’s eye twitched. The autopsy training was clearly not a fond memory.

“Heh, after the training, you all ran off faster than rabbits. I was the only one willing to keep Old Charlie company at the graveyard.” Saji smacked his lips. “Old Charlie told me a lot of secrets. He once helped the Church collect the bodies of Sacred Warriors. He told me that their arm and leg bones were always disproportionately thick and strong.”

“What?! Sacred Warriors? Are you sure you’re not mistaken?” Barol grabbed Saji by the collar and hissed.

“What’s so strange about that?” Saji slapped Barol’s hand away and straightened his collar. “The strength of an Elite Soldier is one and a half times that of an adult man, while a Sacred Warrior’s strength is twice that of a normal person. They can carry a weight of seventeen hundred pounds. How could they do that with just strength and without resilient bones? I guess Sacred Warriors must have a secret art for strengthening their bones.”

Barol clasped his hands behind his back and paced back and forth a few times. “These men cannot be Sacred Warriors!”

“Of course not,” Saji agreed. “However, if the Sacred Warriors have a secret training art, perhaps others have similar ones…” He jutted his chin toward a nearby Elite Guard. “The warriors our Master trains are much stronger than these guys. I really don’t know how they train them.”

“Don’t ask what you shouldn’t ask.” Barol swept his gaze over all his men and said coldly, “Do your job well, and one day, the Master will summon you personally.”

Saji’s eyes lit up. He smiled obsequiously. “We understand the rules. The Master spared our lives and even let us follow you to do our old work. We are already very content.”

“Save the loyalty speeches for later! Hurry up and check the leg bones of all the bodies. See how many of them have undergone training in a secret art!”

Tallying the number of warriors trained in a secret art could help them judge the scale and potential of the enemy force. Barol’s men understood this. They drew their daggers and began dissecting each corpse.

Before long, Saji finished his inspection. He looked up and said, “Thirty-nine bodies. Thirty-six have bone strength far exceeding that of a normal person. Only three are ordinary people… and this one is an old acquaintance.” With that, he picked up a head and tossed it to Barol.

It was a middle-aged man with a brutish face, frozen in an expression of terror. His left eye was intact, but his right was covered by a slightly worn eyepatch.

Barol looked at it and nodded. “So it’s Forked Serpent of Laurel Town.”

Forked Serpent had been the boss of Laurel Town’s gang. Barol had disguised himself as a refugee and joined his subordinate, Sveinn, whom he then incited to challenge Forked Serpent’s position. In the ensuing gang fight, Forked Serpent was utterly defeated, his right eye personally gouged out by Barol. Sveinn successfully took his place but did not kill him.

The Magistrate’s Office generally didn’t care about power shifts in the underworld, but the new chief had to submit to their authority. The fate of the loser was solely for the magistrate to decide. This was a law of survival that the hyenas had to follow.

In fact, the magistrate would prop up a new gang leader when necessary, then toss the old one to the resident priest as a scapegoat. Barol and Monkey had once experienced something similar, which was how they had ended up as Victor’s subordinates.

Forked Serpent’s defeat had been unexpected by Laurel Town’s magistrate. Since there was no need to make a scapegoat of him, he had casually let Forked Serpent live. Sveinn had merely driven him out of Laurel Town. Now, Forked Serpent was back, only to die on the spot.

Saji leaned in. “Judging from the wound, Forked Serpent was kneeling on the ground when someone beheaded him from behind with a single sword stroke. The other two ordinary victims also had fatal wounds on their backs… Our men were trying to take them alive, so they were killed by their own side to silence them.”

“Not their own people. It was the Masked Brotherhood!”

Red Wolf, the master thief, walked up to Barol and handed him two copper badges. The front of the badges was inscribed with a mask and a dripping dagger, while the back bore the numbers 79 and 103.

Over a year ago, Barol had been developing Quicksilver’s outer line in Deepwater City, in eastern Gambis, when he happened to run into his old colleagues, including Saji. At the time, Saji and the others were attached to the Thieves’ Guild in Deepwater City. After a brief probe, Barol decisively led his men to wipe out the guild’s nest. It was there that Quicksilver had first encountered a mercenary company of the Masked Brotherhood. In order to capture their dual-wielding leader alive, Quicksilver had even sacrificed a Lithe Ape militiaman.

The dual-wielding mercenary endured all manner of torture without revealing any secrets. In the end, they had to force a hallucinogenic potion down his throat before he finally spoke of the Masked Brotherhood. He, too, had a copper badge on him, numbered 47.

Before Barol could ask, Red Wolf volunteered, “The badge with the number 79 was found on that body. Number 103 belongs to the captive.”

Barol’s gaze shifted to the heavily wounded, unconscious captive. After a moment of contemplation, he asked the Elite Guard, Badu, “How does the strength of these two compare to the dual-wielding mercenary from Deepwater City?”

Badu’s reply was concise. “About the same.”

“47, 79, 103… The Masked Brotherhood is no ordinary Thieves’ Guild!” Saji shook his head in amazement.

Barol walked silently to the ruffian Pete and said, “You’ve gotten involved in something you shouldn’t have!”

Pete, at this moment, showed his true, decisive colors. He said wretchedly, “Lord Barol, I’ll tell you everything I know. I only ask for a quick death.” Seeing Barol nod in silent agreement, he clutched his injured shoulder, stood up, and said, “A month ago, Chief Forked Serpent returned to Laurel Town with these men. They first got rid of Chief Sveinn, then forced a few of us brothers to keep an eye on you. Chief Forked Serpent said that as soon as you returned, he would get rid of all of you to eliminate any future trouble.”

“What was the Magistrate’s Office’s attitude when Forked Serpent killed Sveinn?”

“The Magistrate’s Office didn’t make a move.”

“Where did Forked Serpent return to Laurel Town from?”

Pete thought for a moment. “Chief Forked Serpent used to brag to us that his cousin, Donald, is a chief in the Stonetooth City Thieves’ Guild. I reckon he borrowed manpower from Stonetooth City.”

Barol nodded and gathered his old comrades. “The situation is more or less clear. Forked Serpent went to Stonetooth City to seek refuge with his cousin Donald. Donald must be a minor chief in the Thieves’ Guild, otherwise Forked Serpent would have gone to Stonetooth City to make a living long ago. So, it’s highly likely that Donald has thrown in his lot with the Masked Brotherhood. The Masked Brotherhood is Forked Serpent’s real boss. Their reach has extended from the Kingdom of Borea to Stonetooth City in the Dodor Kingdom. Laurel Town is their next target.”

“Or perhaps,” Saji added, “the Masked Brotherhood is doing the same thing we are, which is why we keep running into each other, whether in Deepwater City or Laurel Town… The difference is, our movements are careful, while the Masked Brotherhood is crude. It seems they have the tacit approval of the great lord, Marquess Dwemic.”

“The Masked Brotherhood is powerful. Their mercenaries are even stronger than elite soldiers! This organization clearly has a background in the Kingdom of Borea. Logically, the great lord Marquess Dwemic shouldn’t allow Borean forces to run rampant in his territory. Could the Dwemic family be using the Masked Brotherhood to do things they can’t do themselves?”

“Barol, what time is there to think about all this now? We’ve ruined the Dwemic family’s plans. If we don’t run now, it’ll be too late!”

An old spy glanced at the unconscious captive and said in a low voice, “With him around, are you afraid you won’t find the answers? Just like with Mercenary #47 from Deepwater City, a few bottles of hallucinogenic potion down his throat, and we can ask him anything!”

“That’s true… Hurry and bury the bodies. We’re leaving.” As Barol spoke, he walked toward the captive.

At that exact moment, a sharp, cold wisp of wind shot toward the side of his neck.

Barol had diligently trained in the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form. Though he had not yet reached the state where his body moved as his mind willed, his acuity and agility already surpassed that of an ordinary person. At this life-or-death juncture, his hard training finally paid off. He bent his knees, coiled his body, and with a powerful push from his legs, he leaped forward like a nimble mountain ape. Yet, the cold killing intent clung to him like a maggot on a bone, and he could smell death.

But Death did not arrive as expected.

A fierce gale rose from thin air, causing cloaks to whip and snap. Barol looked back to see the Elite Guard, Badu, having intercepted a black shortsword in the nick of time. The attacker’s figure was a blur, their billowing jet-black cloak like a pair of enormous black wings, swiping violently at Badu.

Fighting while wearing a cloak? Showing off is just asking for death!

The Lithe Ape militiaman, Badu, remained expressionless. He thrust his sword forward, the blade instantly disappearing into the black cloak. With a rip, scraps of cloth scattered, and a ghostly figure skimmed across the ground, pouncing toward the captive several meters away.

Barol’s face changed drastically. He roared, “Stop him!”

Too late!

A spray of blood erupted from the captive’s neck. The attacker swept past, shooting like lightning toward the edge of the forest. Just then, an iron tower-like figure blocked the attacker’s path. It was the Crouching Ox Militiaman, Rusa.

Facing the tall and burly Rusa, the attacker showed no sign of retreat. With a kick and a stomp, the decaying leaves on the ground shot forward like a goddess scattering flowers. A black sword light, coming from behind, sliced straight for Rusa’s neck.

The black sword was a formless shadow, swift as lightning. Rusa couldn’t see it clearly, nor did he need to. His muscles rippled like water, his joints popped and cracked, and power surged through him layer by layer. His heavy mace tore through the air with a terrifying howl, sweeping up a storm of dead leaves as it smashed directly toward the attacker’s head.

Another mutual-destruction counterattack?!

————————————

Shadow Warrior Zieg had not expected things to turn out this way.

After Forked Serpent had retaken control of Laurel Town’s underworld, Zieg had been preparing to leave with his team. But Forked Serpent had begged him to stay and eliminate a group of refugee thugs that Sveinn had recently recruited.

It was, of course, a trivial matter. But for more than twenty people to die in Laurel Town all at once would tarnish the reputation of the Magistrate’s Office, so Zieg had arranged for this ambush in the wild.

Zieg was a Shadow Warrior specializing in assassination. He despised direct confrontation. Two Bloodguards plus thirty-five elite mercenaries against a group of refugee thugs should have been a walk in the park; there was no need for him to even lift a finger. Before the battle began, Zieg had been hiding under a thorn bush in his color-changing cloak, practicing his concealment skills. And because of that, he had witnessed a merciless slaughter and escaped the same fate.

When the enemies attacked, they made no attempt at stealth. The sound of their footsteps was piercingly loud in the quiet forest. But their perception was keen, their speed astonishing, and they could pinpoint every opponent in the darkness. The Brotherhood’s carefully trained mercenaries had no time to react or organize an effective defense and were picked off one by one.

An assassin’s keen intuition told Zieg that these enemies’ strength, speed, and skill had surpassed the limits of mortals. He might be able to handle two of them, but he could never deal with so many. The defeat of the two Bloodguards confirmed this.

The Bloodguards had gone all out, managing to kill one enemy. But at the very instant that enemy’s body was split open, he had killed a Bloodguard with a backhanded stab. The other Bloodguard was surrounded by several enemies. Despite activating the power of Bloodlust, his limbs and spine were snapped by a powerful foe.

A Bloodguard’s base strength was twice that of a normal person. In a state of Bloodlust, that strength doubled, equivalent to the combined force of four adult men, with massive boosts to perception and speed. The greatest difference between a Shadow Warrior and a Bloodguard lay in the skill used to control that power; their physical attributes and the effects of Bloodlust were identical.

For some reason, Zieg almost instinctively analyzed his enemies, classifying them into two types.

The first type consisted of two enemies. Their physiques were extremely resilient; even close-range shots from a crossbow couldn’t pierce their chest muscles. Their brute strength was astounding, equivalent to the combined force of four elite soldiers, easily overpowering a Bloodguard’s Bloodlust.

The second type consisted of seventeen men. Their strength couldn’t match Bloodlust, but it was still three times that of a normal person. Their perception was exceptionally keen—even a focused gaze could alert them. Their skill, speed, and sense of balance were all at an unbelievable level. They could even cut swift crossbow bolts out of the air with their shortswords in the dark.

This was actually a technique of prediction and hand-eye coordination. Zieg admitted to himself that he could do it too, but that was his limit. In terms of skill and speed, they were evenly matched.

However, Bloodlust was a Burst secret technique. It had a time limit and a period of weakness afterward. These enemies, on the other hand, were strength and agility-type Ferocious Warriors, with no issue of post-burst fatigue.

Zieg hid under his color-changing cloak, pores sealed, breath as thin as a thread, not moving a muscle. He was waiting for the enemy to leave. But when their leader mentioned Bloodguard #47 and hallucinogenic potions, he had no choice but to take a risk.

The feint against the leader was to lure the agility-type warriors to support, moving them from their original positions to create an opportunity. The color-changing cloak was precious, but not as precious as the secret of Bloodlust. The strength-type Ferocious Warrior was too slow; he would be a one-hit kill and the only path to escape.

An assassin’s experience prompted Zieg to make the most accurate judgment and immediately put it into action.

Everything went smoothly. The sense of accomplishment from a perfect plan and the thrill of pulling chestnuts from the fire filled Zieg with strength and confidence. He would take the Ferocious Warrior’s head and vent the frustration in his chest.

Surrounded by strong enemies, beheading one with a single stroke, then departing without a trace—this was the stuff of assassin legends and romance! Mutual destruction… Holy shit! Don’t you fucking know how to dodge?

A life-and-death battle is a test of strength, skill, speed, and also will. When opponents are of similar strength, it is will that becomes the key to victory or defeat!

Facing the beheading strike, Rusa’s expression didn’t waver in the slightest. In Zieg’s eyes, it was an indestructible resolve, an indifference to everything in the world. He had no doubt that even if he severed Rusa’s head, it wouldn’t change his determination. His mace would still smash him to pieces.

All living creatures have a primal instinct to avoid death and seek life. In a standoff between life and death, the weaker one will inevitably show weakness and hesitation. In the blink of an eye, a mutual kill can become a one-sided one.

In that moment, Zieg’s courage failed, and his will wavered. Just as he tried to evade, a mysterious power took control of his body, transforming him into a seasoned assassin. His slash became a thrust, piercing Rusa’s chest with exquisite precision, a slight tremor turning the strong heart to pulp. He twisted his body sideways, avoiding the ferocious, brain-shattering mace, but it grazed his left arm, shattering the bone and tearing the muscle. Zieg cut off his own left arm, now just a strip of rags, as his muscles writhed, clamping down on the blood vessels. Without pausing, he vanished into the darkness of the dense forest.

“Don’t chase! We need to retreat, now!”

At Barol’s command, the Lithe Ape militiamen halted their pursuit. Barol, his face grim, knelt before Rusa, cradling his head. “I’m sorry, Rusa… I can only bury you here with Gelaka.”

“Chief, look at this piece of cloth. It… it changes color! That assassin used it to evade our search.” Red Wolf walked over, holding a scrap of the cloak.

Barol took the fragment. As he watched it gradually change to match the color of his red moleskin glove, he couldn’t help but sigh. “What is this? Wizardry?”

“It’s color-changing dye. Not Wizardry,” the Lithe Ape militiaman, Badu, said from the side.

A thought struck Barol. He pulled Badu to a corner and asked in a hushed voice, “Lord Victor has color-changing dye too?”

“Yes.” Badu nodded.

Color-changing dye… a secret art that turned ordinary people into ferocious warriors… Could the boss of the Masked Brotherhood and Lord Victor share a common origin? Were they both heirs of the Wimbledon family? Then he was Lord Victor’s mortal enemy!

At this thought, Barol slapped himself hard across the face. “Can we still catch that assassin?” he pressed. “His secrets are very important to my lord!”

“We can. He won’t get far.”

“So confident?”

Badu said flatly, “He is heavily wounded and has used Bloodlust. He will soon enter a weakened state.”

“Bloodlust? How can a human use Bloodlust? When we caught Mercenary #47 in Deepwater City, why didn’t you tell me?” Barol asked, dumbfounded.

Badu wore a thoughtful expression. He said slowly, “Humans don’t possess the ability of Bloodlust, but when they fight, their eyes turn red, their muscles bulge, their strength and speed multiply, and they become insensitive to pain. They exhibit the characteristics of Bloodlust. As for why I didn’t tell you in Deepwater City, it was because you didn’t ask me.”

“…” Barol stood stunned for a long moment, then shook his head helplessly. “Fine… we missed one chance to interrogate someone. Let’s just hope this fish doesn’t slip the net. It’s so dark, how are we supposed to find him?”

Badu said, “We have another hidden force. Do you wish to activate it now?”

Barol suddenly remembered what Victor had once told him: if Quicksilver ever ran into danger, they should run into the wild, where a hidden force would come to their aid.

“It’s time,” Barol murmured, a cold glint in his eyes. “Contact them!”

Badu took a special whistle from his pocket, put it to his lips, and blew a silent, ultrasonic note.

A mournful wolf howl answered from the distance, followed by another from a different direction. The howls rose and fell, one after another, gradually converging on the forest.

Badu listened with a cocked ear, then said seriously, “My lord, please take the Quicksilver core members and step aside. We will handle what comes next.”

————————————

Two days later, in a simple camp in the mountain forest, Barol wore a smile on his face. In one hand, he held the fragment of the color-changing cloak; in the other, he toyed with a silver badge, inscribed with a mask, a dripping dagger, and the number 15. Saji walked up beside him and teased:

“Barol, what are you grinning about?”

“Bloodboil Potion, Bloodguards, Shadow Warriors, the Masked Brotherhood… Quicksilver has a rival. Don’t you find it interesting?”

“What’s there to be so happy about?” Saji’s eyes widened. He met Barol’s gaze for a moment, and both men couldn’t help but burst into laughter. After the laughter died down, Saji asked, “What do you plan to do with that guy?”

“Hasn’t he already been turned into an idiot? Just get rid of him.”

“I’m talking about Pete. Do you really trust him? Aren’t you afraid he’ll sell out Quicksilver?”

In the camp, the ruffian Pete, his left arm in a sling, was busy chopping firewood with his right, bustling about to prepare a fire. Barol withdrew his gaze and said lightly, “He has a worthless life to live. What does it matter who he sells it to? When it comes to loyalty, what’s the difference between you and him?”

“How can that be the same? I’m completely devoted to Quicksilver!” Saji said, pounding his chest.

A smile of admiration appeared on Barol’s old face. “The Master once told me that Quicksilver’s greatest strength isn’t its force of arms, but its ability to recruit and train members. One day, you’ll understand… I promise you won’t regret joining us!” He added silently in his heart, Because Quicksilver is just the tip of the iceberg of what Lord Victor has.

“So, what do we do now?”

“Pete is a local. He can lead people to infiltrate the Thieves’ Guild in Stonetooth City. Then we can compete with the Masked Brotherhood in the shadows.” After a pause, Barol turned to Saji. “I’ll leave the matter of infiltrating the Thieves’ Guild to you. Any problems?”

“What problem could there be?” Saji shrugged. “What about you?”

“I, of course, am going back to see the Master!”

Chapter 322: The Golden Company

In late January of the Season of Fire, with fifty-five days remaining until the Grand Military Tournament hosted by the York family, the entire Centaur Hills buzzed with activity.

Suppressing the Ant-man plague, the New Agro-husbandry, the water project, and slaying the Aberrant Dragon Beast Itugos—these extraordinary feats, spread by caravans, bards, the Silver Spire, and the Church, had traveled throughout the human kingdoms, pushing the York family’s prestige to its peak.

Powerful noble families, including those from the Sasan Empire, sent envoys to Goldwater City to offer their congratulations to the York family, while also taking the opportunity to observe the water project and inquire about the secret of the barbarians.

Regardless of the various factions’ motives, the Grand Military Tournament in the Centaur Hills was destined to be an event of global renown.

To date, Goldwater City had received over nine hundred children of nobility, including twenty-two Knights and one hundred and three apprentice knights. They came from places as far as the Teutonic Duchy in the extreme north and the distant Eastern Alliance. Most were the second sons and daughters of declining families, some as young as twelve, others over forty.

They traveled from thousands of miles away, either alone or with a couple of retainers, all to participate in the York family’s Grand Military Tournament. They hoped to display their skills, talents, and character at the tournament to win a future for themselves.

Great nobles placed immense importance on their reputation, and attracting talent was one of the benefits it brought.

However, a military tournament capable of influencing the entire human world was exceedingly rare. This was thanks to Sylvia’s publication of the New Agro-husbandry techniques. To commend the York family’s outstanding contribution, the Church ordered its resident priests everywhere to proclaim the family’s fame and the prosperity of the Centaur Hills. Churches along the travel routes even provided material support for the noble children’s journeys. The powerful lords of various lands also responded positively to the York family’s invitation, preparing lavish gifts and rushing to the Centaur Hills, refraining from their usual practice of interfering and intercepting them on their journey.

The New Agro-husbandry techniques benefited everyone. Moreover, a Spirit Knight on the verge of demise would become unbelievably powerful, irritable, and belligerent. There was even a historical incident where a Spirit Knight challenged the Pope. That Highness had wanted to see just how formidable the Radiant Angel truly was, forcing the Pope to hide and scurry about for quite some time. In short, no one wanted to get on Sylvia’s bad side. If any other family had been the one to announce the New Agro-husbandry techniques… it wouldn’t matter who they were; once the knowledge was out, it was out, and they could forget about any goodwill.

Sylvia sharing the New Agro-husbandry techniques was seen as generous, a gesture the great lords felt compelled to respond to. Anyone else doing so would have been considered their duty, and any gratitude would have been directed at the Church for disseminating the knowledge.

In a world where the strong prey on the weak, one first needed the strength to protect oneself before one could find the environment to grow and prosper. For a minor lord to think they could stand above their peers with just one or two new techniques was nothing but wishful thinking.

The York family’s fame and prosperity grew by the day, thanks to the New Agro-husbandry and the water project, attracting countless children of knights vying to pledge their allegiance. Victor, the actual architect of these technological changes, had no complaints. In truth, he wasn’t interested in the Grand Military Tournament. Recruiting knights would only disrupt the existing power balance in Randell Fief and force his family back into a traditional and slow mode of development.

Victor was, however, prepared to recruit some of the down-on-their-luck noble scions to serve as liaison attendants for House of Randell, specializing in dealing with other nobles. Liaison Officer Alice had already told Victor multiple times that she needed a few assistants. This was a task that commoners were indeed unsuited for.

The selection of these liaison attendants would have to wait until after the Grand Military Tournament. For now, Victor was focusing his main efforts on the barbarians and Sophia.

A caravan of over a hundred carts left the Laketon freight yard, making its way in a grand procession toward Raven Town in the north. Each cart was laden with all sorts of daily necessities, including raw sugar, Purple Cane wine, flour, dried ground-potatoes, cured meat, flax cloth, and sheepskin blankets.

This was the third supply caravan the House of Randell had sent out in the last forty days.

The barbarians were about to visit the Centaur Hills. At Victor’s strong insistence, Sylvia planned to settle them in Raven Town in the north. Including Sophia’s Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild, one thousand elite Sacred Warriors, and five hundred Tusk Soldiers, the garrison at Raven Town would exceed two thousand. As per The Agreement, the living expenses for the barbarians and the human soldiers were to be shared by the Church, the Gambis Royal Family, the York family, and the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild.

Victor sent the supply caravan primarily to assert his identity and attitude as the lord of Raven Town, and also to sell the goods to Sophia at a high price to slightly offset Raven Town’s losses.

Raven Town connected the Dodor Kingdom and the Centaur Hills, and it could have become an excellent trading post with considerable economic prospects. In recent months, trade between Raven Town and its northern and southern neighbors had been steadily increasing. Given time, its trade volume would have surely surpassed Wildwillow City’s. But the arrival of the barbarians had scuttled Victor’s plan to build a trade town.

Until the barbarians crossed south, Raven Town was destined to be a stagnant backwater. Victor’s losses were simply incalculable. Shaking down his “bargain” wife was just a way to blow off some steam.

However, with the barbarians as a shield, the rock bricks could be introduced ahead of schedule. The development plans for Randell Fief’s two cities, seven towns, and twenty-one villages could be realized within a decade. In particular, once Candlefort, which protected the Alchemy Tower, was completed, Victor could arm his army with Thorium equipment and even openly display the Alchemical Dragon-Lizards, becoming one of the most powerful lords in a single stroke.

In comparison, the stalled development of Raven Town was not an unacceptable price to pay.

The tail of the caravan disappeared between the rolling, overlapping hills. Victor withdrew his gaze from the window and returned to his seat at the head of the study in Laketon Castle.

Narsen saw Victor’s relaxed brow and spirited expression and couldn’t help but ask, “My lord, have you thought of another brilliant idea?”

Victor smiled faintly. “No brilliant ideas, I was just reminiscing about something.” He lifted his coffee cup, took a sip, and asked leisurely, “Do you all remember our neighbor, Baron Eskri?”

“Baron Eskri was a powerful Knight and a hospitable lord.” Narsen thought for a moment before adding, “He was a good man.”

Victor shook his head and chuckled. “He was a good man, and also a poor lord. But his situation was far better than ours.”

“Baron Eskri is a senior knight, only a step away from Silver-rank. His wife and two sons are naturally awakened apprentice knights. He commands thirty Elite Soldiers, a baron’s castle, three villages, and a territory of three thousand square kilometers.”

“When I first started developing Randell Fief, I had fewer than six hundred followers and only forty-two carts. No castle, no villages… Other than my fief being a bit larger and having more refugees and bandits, I was a far cry from Baron Eskri.”

“Now, Baron Eskri has traded his fief to the York family and left the Centaur Hills. And we have one town, fifteen villages, nine hundred soldiers, eighty Swiftbird light cavalry, and more than twenty thousand people working for the House of Randell. Arranging a caravan of over a hundred carts is effortless for me!” Victor rapped the table and nodded. “The House of Randell has you all to thank for what it is today!”

“My lord is wise!” Narsen said with heartfelt conviction.

Victor couldn’t help but smile faintly, teasing, “Am I wise, or was what I just said wise?”

“Well… My lord is wise, and what you say is also wise… Everything is wise, everything.” Narsen scratched his head, grinning broadly.

Victor roared with laughter, and Iron Hammer and Kidd, sitting nearby, couldn’t help but laugh along.

“Alright. I wanted to tell you that the House of Randell is a world of difference from what it used to be. So what if the Lynx Mercenary Company lost a little money? Kidd, you brought back eighty-eight mountain folk hunters. I must hold a celebration in your honor.”

Iron Hammer, Kidd, and Fermi had once been the commander and vice-commanders of the Warhammer Mercenary Company. After their first mission, they brought back over seventy mountain folk hunters. Victor split them into three groups, forming the Warhammer, Lynx, and Kestrel Mercenary Companies. Kidd was made commander of the Lynx Mercenary Company, leading twenty mountain folk hunters, thirty Alchemical militia, and seven freemen merchants to pioneer smuggling routes into the western provinces and northern commanderies of Gambis, win over mountain folk villages along the way, and establish caravan strongholds.

The Lynx Mercenary Company’s pioneering route was much longer and more complex than the Warhammer Mercenary Company’s eastern route. Sometimes, they would go more than twenty days without finding a single mountain stronghold. They fought over a hundred battles, large and small. In the most brutal one, they were entangled with Gnolls for eleven whole days. They ran out of arrows and had to sacrifice four Alchemical militia and three mountain folk hunters to finally escape the Gnolls’ pursuit.

Along the way, the Lynx Mercenary Company endured countless hardships. Using both force and trade, they opened the gates of seventy-three mountain strongholds, recruited nearly a hundred mountain folk hunters, drew a detailed map of their route, and traded for several thousand pounds of mountain goods. However, when they returned to their station in Pine Forest Town, Kidd discovered that his entire trip had resulted in a loss.

Seeing that the lord had no intention of blaming him, Kidd secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Feeling both ashamed and grateful, he stood up and said with a wry smile, “My lord, how can I accept a celebration? I only hope you can have My Lady Lilia release that batch of equipment.”

The Lynx Mercenary Company’s profit from selling the mountain goods was about two thousand two hundred Gold Sols. After paying the dividends to the freemen merchants, one thousand three hundred Gold Sols remained. The mountain folk hunters currently had no concept of money; what they coveted was the full set of equipment worn by the Lynx Mercenaries. Kidd decided to honor his promise. When he went to Lilia to request the military gear, Lilia rolled her eyes, held out her small hand, and demanded seven thousand Gold Sols.

Kidd couldn’t shake seven thousand Gold Sols out of his pockets even if he turned them inside out. Lilia was very direct: take the equipment if you have the money, and leave if you don’t. Then, she calculated the bill for him: steel ring mail, twenty Gold Sols; Vine-hide armor, fifteen Gold Sols; helmet, boots, and leather gloves, five Gold Sols in total; composite longbow, ten Gold Sols; refined iron short spear and shield, twenty Gold Sols; refined iron shortsword, ten Gold Sols; arrows, free. Each set of equipment cost eighty Gold Sols. For eighty-eight sets, the total was seven thousand forty Gold Sols. She rounded it down to an even seven thousand.

For the military equipment produced by the Alchemical auxiliary soldiers, the labor cost was almost zero, and the material cost was no more than twenty Gold Sols per set. But Lilia didn’t care about that. The market price of the equipment was its cost. Besides, the gear produced at Hill Camp was exquisitely crafted from choice materials and of superior quality; each set was definitely worth more than eighty Gold Sols on the market.

After the accounting, Kidd realized he had incurred a loss. But Lilia was unyielding, and it was useless even when Kidd asked Narsen and Iron Hammer to intercede. Helpless, they had to bite the bullet and come to Victor to plead their case.

Although the Lynx Mercenary Company was secretly controlled by Victor, strictly speaking, they were independent of the Randell family’s military hierarchy. If these mountain folk mercenaries really wanted to leave the company, the House of Randell had no reason to stop them. Lilia, ever one to take precautions, had established a financial system that separated military and administrative affairs with independent accounting to minimize hidden losses, a system that had earned Victor’s approval and praise.

The mercenary company’s credibility was directly related to the level of support from the mountain folk villages. Kidd’s promise to the mountain folk hunters had to be fulfilled. Overturning Lilia’s decision would be simple, but the consequences would be dire.

This was not, after all, a modern society with highly developed information technology. A lord conveyed his will to his subjects through messengers and maintained order in his fief through a stable system. If a lord became accustomed to going back on his word, his vassals would be at a loss, and the family’s internal affairs would descend into chaos. Ill-intentioned people could even exploit such loopholes to issue contradictory orders to vassals, causing irreversible damage.

Once a system was established, it could not be changed arbitrarily. Lilia was Victor’s partner and his second-in-command. Upholding her authority was conducive to… a happy family and a fulfilling life.

In short, a lord had to be trustworthy with his own people. As for outsiders, well, adapting to circumstances was never a mistake.

“Lilia is in charge of the armory now. If I anger her and she throws away the key, what am I to do?” Victor said, looking troubled.

Narsen, Kidd, and Iron Hammer looked at each other, their expressions strange. They felt they should be disappointed, but why were they secretly pleased?

“Alright, I’ll secretly requisition a batch of equipment for you, without touching the armory’s reserves.”

Kidd was overjoyed and thanked him profusely. But Victor’s tone shifted. “Consider it my investment.”

“Investment?” Narsen asked, perplexed. “My lord, wasn’t the smuggling caravan yours to begin with?”

“If the smuggling caravans all belonged to me, I’d be in serious trouble!”

Victor smiled and explained, “Pioneering new routes is never a guaranteed profit. Kidd, tell me, why did the Lynx Mercenary Company lose money?”

Kidd said sullenly, “The freemen merchants took the mountain goods we collected to sell in the towns, but the shops offered ridiculously low prices. And the prices of the supplies we had to buy were sky-high. All the money went into the pockets of those shopkeepers.”

“The lord said long ago that rarity makes things valuable. You have to take mountain goods to towns far from the mountains to get a high price. Don’t you understand that?” Iron Hammer grumbled.

“We did sell our goods in the plains towns. But we still couldn’t get a good price!” Kidd retorted loudly. “Those freemen merchants said the shopkeepers think we’re a one-time deal, so they fleece us for all they can. Only after we make a few more trips and get familiar with the shops will we be able to sell our goods at a high price and buy supplies cheaply.”

“That’s how it is,” Victor nodded. “The Warhammer Mercenary Company made tens of thousands of Gold Sols on their first trip because you found White crystals and ran into a small family’s caravan. It was through their connections that the merchants in Deepwater City gave you a fair price.”

“This is the ‘end-point’.”

“Having the channel is not enough if you don’t have the end-point!”

Victor said slowly, “Without merchants to receive the goods, the smuggling caravans’ profits will always be limited! Have you ever thought about it? A caravan of fifty goes out, and over a hundred come back. One caravan becomes two, two become four. In the future, every War Bear Mercenary will have to manage three caravans. If every caravan belongs to me, and every one of them loses money, wouldn’t that drag the House of Randell down?”

“Moreover, the mountain folk mercenaries and merchants are all freemen. Legally, they don’t belong to the House of Randell. If the smuggling caravans don’t make money, they will leave. If that happens, wouldn’t all our effort and investment be for nothing?”

Narsen was speechless. “Then… then what do we do? Do we… stop the smuggling caravans?”

Victor shook his head. “To be honest, the House of Randell isn’t strong enough to monopolize the profits of the smuggling trade. We need outside capital and manpower. We need minor lords, vassal village heads, mountain folk mercenaries, freemen merchants, and even ruffians and thugs to join in and share this big cake. What we need to do is hold the knife that cuts it.”

“Since we can’t have the whole cake to ourselves, why should we make the cake all by ourselves?”

Victor took a sip of coffee and continued, “Supporting thirty smuggling caravans is the limit of my ability. I will replace the Elite Guards you lose, I will provide the mercenaries’ military equipment, and I will supply the goods for trading with the mountain strongholds. But the House of Randell cannot continue to incur losses indefinitely. I will support each smuggling caravan for two years at most. After that, each caravan must be independently accounted for and be responsible for its own profits and losses… uh… meaning it has to support itself.”

The three men glanced at each other. Narsen couldn’t help but speak up, “My lord, we don’t understand. We’ll just do as you say.”

“Alright.” Victor rubbed his temples and said, “I will allow the smuggling caravans to lose money for two years. After two years, they must purchase the equipment and goods they need at full price. Likewise, the family will pay the caravans when purchasing goods from them. Also, since I’ve invested in the caravans, I will take five-tenths of the profit from each. The rest of the profit is yours to distribute as you see fit.”

Iron Hammer stood up, incredulous. “My lord, are you saying the remaining five-tenths of the profit is mine? But you are my liege lord, and I am your Vassal. It is my duty to serve you. You have already given me land, livestock, and an annual stipend. How can I take money that belongs to you?”

Victor nodded and smiled. “Vassals can also engage in business to make money. You risk your lives smuggling goods, so you deserve a share of the profit. As for how much you take and how much your mercenaries get, that’s for you to decide.”

“By the way, you can also sell the grain and livestock from your own lands to the smuggling caravans. You can set the price yourselves, as long as you can sell it in the end.”

Kidd and Iron Hammer both looked excited. A smuggling caravan could make a profit of about two thousand Gold Sols in half a year. After deducting half, they would still have one thousand Gold Sols left. This was far better than being a simple mercenary company.

A mercenary company fought life-and-death battles, and earning one thousand Gold Sols in a year was considered quite good. After deducting the costs of repairing equipment, buying supplies, and compensating the dead and injured, there was very little left. In fact, most mercenaries banded together just to have enough to eat and drink, and any spare cash was usually spent on pleasure-seeking.

With Victor providing weapons and equipment for the smuggling caravans, the companies saved their biggest expense. The mountain folk mercenaries’ pay was at most fifteen Gold Sols a year. In one year of running the caravans, Kidd and Iron Hammer could each pocket at least five hundred Gold Sols.

No one ever complained about having too much money. Iron Hammer licked his lips and said, “My lord, I don’t think we need those freemen merchants anymore. We’ve learned how to do business. There’s no need to share the money with them.”

“What do you think?” Victor turned his head to look at Narsen.

Narsen had a long face. “I… I don’t even have a single smuggling caravan under my command…”

“Haha, there will be no explaining this to Linda.”

“Chief, you can give your goods to my Lynx Company. I’ll give you a good price.”

Victor smiled and said, “That fat Weyrich is a smart man. He anticipated that you would discard him, which is why he proposed the chain store and the candied fruit industry. His positioning of himself coincided perfectly with my own plans.”

“A caravan’s profit ultimately has to be realized through sales. Those freemen merchants are the end-points I’ve prepared for the smuggling caravans. The fat Weyrich’s candied fruit chain store is just a shell. Every candied fruit shop he opens can also sell smuggled goods.”

At this point, Victor paused and asked Iron Hammer, “I once said that the fat Weyrich would need to come up with seven thousand Gold Sols to open his candied fruit chain. How much has he raised now?”

Iron Hammer replied, “Weyrich has brought another seven freemen merchants into the fold. They have raised enough money. Do you want to see him?”

Victor pondered for a moment, then shook his head. “It’s not time for me to get involved yet. You go and tell Weyrich in Old John’s name that Old John will put up thirty thousand Gold Sols to establish a chain of stores, which will include candied fruit sales. The business will be entrusted to the fat Weyrich to manage. There will be an annual dividend: he and the other seven freemen merchants will get one-tenth, and Old John will take nine-tenths. If they do well, they’ll also receive an annual bonus from the business. If they do poorly, they can pack their bags and leave. They won’t even get their seven thousand Gold Sol principal back.”

Iron Hammer said hesitantly, “My lord, I’m afraid they won’t agree to that.”

“They will most certainly agree,” Victor said confidently.

These merchants dared to risk smuggling illegal goods and had even devised the candied fruit industry. They had guts and vision; how could they possibly miss such a golden opportunity? It was the War Bear Mercenaries who didn’t understand what a a shareholding business really meant.

Victor sighed inwardly and said, “Narsen, you don’t have a smuggling caravan, but you can invest in the business and enjoy the annual dividends. The other War Bear Mercenaries can also invest. The forty-four War Bear members can each put up five hundred Gold Sols to share a five-percent stake in the company’s dividends. Narsen, you put up five thousand Gold Sols and take a five-percent stake for yourself. The remaining eighty percent of the dividends will be mine.”

“Oh.” Narsen had always been obedient to Victor’s every word and immediately nodded in agreement. Iron Hammer and Kidd had no objections either and also agreed.

Victor said, half-joking and half-serious, “Five thousand Gold Sols is no small sum. Go back and tell Linda that in ten years, a great lord would pay five hundred thousand Gold Sols for a ten-percent share of the company’s dividends, and even then it would depend on whether I was willing to sell. I think Linda probably won’t be giving you a hard time anymore.”

“Five hundred thousand Gold Sols for a ten-percent share?!” Narsen’s eyes went wide, and he swallowed hard.

“What’s five hundred thousand?” Victor muttered. “This company can expand territories. You can’t buy a share just by having money.”

Iron Hammer asked cautiously, “My lord, what’s the company’s name?”

What to call it? The East India Company… sounds too strange. Tosra… no taste. Silver Moon Conglomerate… not suitable.

Victor agonized over it for a long while before finally saying, “The Golden Company… Yes, let’s call it The Golden Company. What do you think?”

“Excellent! An excellent name!”

“Yes, that’s a good name!”

“The Golden Company is powerful and memorable. Once you hear it, you’ll never forget it!”

Narsen clapped his hands in approval, while Iron Hammer and Kidd nodded repeatedly. Victor was pleased with himself.

Naming it was a small matter, and a moment’s satisfaction was enough. Victor returned to the main topic, “Iron Hammer, next time you go to Gasi Town, remember to purchase more Camelopes. These beasts of burden are very useful. The smuggling caravans and Randell Fief both need a large number of them.”

“I’ll set out at once,” Iron Hammer said, standing up.

“There’s no hurry.”

Victor gestured for Iron Hammer to sit down. “On the morning of the last day of March in the Season of Fire, I will hold a military parade in Laketon square. In the evening, we will have Randell Fief’s first carnival. Rest well during this time. You can set out after the celebration is over.” He rubbed his chin and added, “But we can start preparing for The Golden Company.”

Victor picked up a bell on the desk and rang it. A personal guard entered the study, awaiting his orders.

“Send someone to Wildwillow City to recall Old John. And ask My Lady Lilia to come here. Tell her I need to requisition a sum of money.”

The personal guard bowed and said, “My Lady Lilia is not in Laketon. She has gone to Silver Moon Manor.”

“With so much going on in Laketon, what is she doing at Silver Moon Manor?”

Victor was taken aback for a moment, then waved his hand. “Never mind. I’ll go to Silver Moon Manor to find her myself.”

Chapter 323: An Awakening

Victor had not returned to Silver Moon Manor for seven days.

The various lords surrounding Wildwillow City had formed a circle of interests, and the news that barbarians would soon be visiting the Randell Fief had aroused everyone’s suspicion.

Over the past few days, Victor had been staying at Judy’s manor with Nicole and Gillian, attending various noble gatherings in Wildwillow City to clarify the facts to their trading partners. He assured them that the barbarians would be temporarily residing in Raven Town, hundreds of kilometers away, and that trade in Wildwillow City would not be affected.

Having stabilized the situation in Wildwillow City and enjoyed a few more days of fragrant and extravagant living, Victor had just returned to Laketon when he was cornered by Narsen and the others. Since the issue of the shareholding system had been raised, Victor had intended to have an in-depth discussion with Lilia about the details of the Golden Merchants’ Guild. To his surprise, however, the family’s general manager had taken a two-day strike and gone on vacation to Silver Moon Manor.

Without a word, Victor headed straight for Silver Moon Manor. He was going to show Lilia, with his actions, the consequences of her petty temper.

Silver Moon Manor was less than ten kilometers from Laketon. A Swiftbird carried Victor to the manor’s entrance in just a quarter of an hour. Guards pulled open the exquisitely crafted iron gates from the inside, and the Swiftbird light cavalry escorted Victor in. A few agile, powerful Satyr Hounds ran over, wagging their tails. They wanted to approach their master but were wary of the Swiftbird’s sharp talons, so they simply ran alongside the group on the green lawns, following them toward the lord’s residence.

Walking along the tree-lined avenue, Victor noticed that something was amiss at Silver Moon Manor.

Silver Moon Manor was built in a valley, covering three thousand four hundred mu. It boasted meadows, forests, gardens, a mountain stream, a horse farm, and an entire hill. It included a twenty-two-meter-high lord’s residence and fifteen guest villas, as well as infrastructure like warehouses, barracks, servant quarters, and animal pens and stables.

Silver Moon Manor was scenic and magnificent, but it did not have many servants.

After Elina took charge of Silver Moon Manor, she hired eighty indoor maids and one hundred twenty handymen. Including the forty manor guards and over one hundred eighty young attendants, the entire manor had only a little over four hundred people.

Normally, the servants were concentrated around the lord’s residence, leaving other parts of the manor to appear quite deserted. But today, the area near the guest villas to the left of the avenue was crowded with people. Some were plastering the villa walls with special mortar and white sand, some were replacing roof tiles, and others were carrying new furniture into the villas while bringing old furniture out. The foreman, who was standing nearby with his chest puffed out and belly protruding as he pointed and directed, was none other than Moline, the village head of the First Village.

Victor pulled on the reins, and his Swiftbird gradually came to a halt, a purring sound rumbling in its throat, which provoked the Satyr Hounds into a frenzy of barking. Moline noticed the commotion from the hounds. He turned and saw Victor and his Swiftbird light cavalry. After giving his deputy a few instructions, he ran over at full speed.

“My lord, you’ve returned,” Moline said with a bow.

“What are you all doing?” Victor asked.

“Renovating the guest villas,” Moline replied with a broad smile, glancing back at the busy workers.

“Renovating?” Victor asked curiously. “The manor has handymen. Why are you renovating the guest villas?”

“Well… I don’t know either,” Moline said, scratching his head. “My Lady Lilia gave the order herself. She demanded that we renovate Silver Moon Manor from the inside out within thirty days. I’m responsible for redecorating every guest villa and replacing all the woodwork, doors, and windows. George and the others are in charge of tending to the gardens and lawns, Kent is handling the barracks and stables, Fero is dredging the sewers and the ornamental lake, and Bansen is taking care of the roads and the tree-lined avenues.”

Victor was dumbfounded as he listened. He couldn’t help but ask, “How many people has Lilia mobilized?”

“At least two thousand, I’d say.”

“Carry on with your work.”

Suppressing his doubts, Victor urged his Swiftbird onward and soon arrived at the entrance to the lord’s residence. A Swiftbird cavalryman took the reins from his master and led the silver-gray Swiftbird to the stables, while Victor, accompanied by four of his Personal Guards, walked straight through the main doors of the residence.

Inside the great hall, several young and beautiful indoor maids were busy cleaning the floors and furniture. Upon seeing the lord, they all curtsied in greeting.

Elina had modeled the maid system on that of the York family, meticulously selecting eighty indoor maids. Most were unmarried virgins around the age of fifteen, sufficiently intelligent, healthy, well-proportioned, and with graceful and beautiful features. The maids would work at Silver Moon Manor for three years, with an annual salary of twenty Gold Sol, which would be collected by their respective families.

During their employment, the maids were not allowed to leave Silver Moon Manor without permission, nor were they allowed to fall in love and lose their virginity. Any violation of these rules would, at best, result in the loss of their job; severe consequences would lead to harsh interrogation. Upon completing their three-year term, the indoor maids had the right to stay on for another three years until they reached the age of twenty-five, or they could marry in the interim. In that case, Elina would provide them with a handsome severance payment or a generous dowry, ensuring they would live without worry in the future.

Such strict regulations were primarily to prevent the indoor maids from leaking secrets, and also to cultivate suitable spouses for the vassal families. If a maid was fortunate enough to be noticed by a nobleman, that was another matter entirely. In fact, the vast majority of indoor maids came from the families of his subjects and were eventually married off by his lady to the sons of his vassals.

The House of Randell did not yet have any true vassal families. Elina had selected only eighty people from over ten thousand refugee families, each one truly one in a hundred.

Victor noticed that these indoor maids had all changed into new maid uniforms. They wore low-heeled, thin-strapped leather shoes, had sashes woven from spider silk tied around their waists, and their hair was pinned up in snow-white, fine linen coifs. Pearl necklaces hung from their fair, slender necks, adding a touch of nobility to their beauty.

The floors and stairs of the great hall had been polished by the maids until they shone like mirrors, and all the furniture had been replaced with gold-dusted woodware. After all these arrangements, the main building of Silver Moon Manor had truly been transformed into a splendid and magnificent palace.

Victor was taken aback for a moment, then asked, “Fili, where is Lady Elina?”

The maid, Fili, blinked her large, almond-shaped eyes and said hesitantly, “The last time I saw Lady Elina, she was in the third-floor lounge scolding Miss Beldina… Master, would you like me to find Lady Elina for you?”

She’s emphasizing that Elina is scolding Beldina. Is she asking me to go rescue the little foodie?

Victor’s mischievous gaze made Fili uneasy. A blush crept up her fair, oval face, her eyes darted about, and her long eyelashes trembled slightly. She looked utterly pitiful.

“No need, I’ll go up and find her myself.”

As Victor disappeared up the stairs with his four Personal Guards, Fili let out a long sigh of relief, patting her high chest as if she had been granted a pardon.

“Wow, the master didn’t pinch Fili’s cheek this time… Don’t be disappointed, Fili, I’ll do it for the master.” One of the maids giggled as she reached for Fili’s delicate cheek.

The blush that had just faded returned with a vengeance. “Don’t be ridiculous,” Fili said, annoyed and embarrassed. “You’re the one who wants it, aren’t you?”

“Hee hee, and you don’t?”

“Alright, alright, stop messing around. I wonder how Bel is doing?”

“Don’t worry, the master dotes on Bel the most…”

Don’t you girls know the master has the sharpest ears?

The girls’ chirpy laughter fell clearly on Victor’s ears. As he reached the third floor, he heard Beldina’s innocent, childlike voice.

“The pillow is so heavy… Bel is tired.”|

“Miss Bel, please stand up straight,” came the voice of Gornell, the Lithe Ape militiaman.

“Wuwu… Bel is hungry.”

“Miss Bel, you need to stand for two standard hourglass times before you can eat.”

Victor pushed open the wooden door to see Beldina standing forlornly in a corner with a velvet pillow on her head. There were several blueberry stains on the front of her little attendant’s uniform. She saw Victor, and tears instantly welled in her eyes. Her little mouth quivered, and she looked as if she was about to cry but was forcing herself to hold it in, her little nose twitching. She looked both pitiful and adorable.

“What’s going on?” Victor asked, holding back a laugh.

The Lithe Ape militiaman, Gornell, replied, “My lord, Lady Elina ordered me to watch Miss Beldina and make sure she stands for two full hourglass times.”

Just as he spoke, the delightful rhythm of high heels tapping on the floor approached, and a graceful figure flashed into the room. “Darling, you’re back!” Elina threw herself into Victor’s arms, offered him a passionate kiss, and said joyfully, “What do you think?”

Elina was wearing a daffodil-yellow, silk, half-sleeved dress, revealing her well-proportioned, snow-white arms and a section of her jade-like calves. Her wine-red hair was tied back, her waist was as slender as a willow, and her red lips were luscious. She was so beautiful it was breathtaking.

“Gorgeous,” Victor said, his hands on her slender waist already sliding towards a certain astonishingly supple area.

Elina shot her lover a look. “I was asking about the room.”

The walls of the reception room were hung with several oil paintings, and exquisitely crafted silver ornaments were placed on every table. A crystal chandelier with a diameter of one meter hung from the center of the ceiling, each crystal holder fitted with a lizard-oil candle, making the entire room look opulent and magnificent.

“You’re not going to tell me every room is this luxurious, are you?” Victor asked woodenly.

“Of course not… this is just the reception room. How could it compare to the great hall?”

Victor, who had just breathed a sigh of relief, felt his vision go dark, and he nearly collapsed onto the floor.

How much money must this have cost?

“Darling, how does Silver Moon Manor compare to the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence now? Hmm… it certainly can’t compare, their residence is built with white-glazed rock. But our Silver Moon Manor is grand in scale and has beautiful scenery, making it one of the very best manors.”

Completely oblivious to the fact that Victor’s heart was bleeding, Elina asked with a mixture of apprehension and anticipation, “Marchioness Sophia will surely love Silver Moon Manor, won’t she? Darling?”

“Just to satisfy Sophia, you all… you all…” Victor maintained his gentlemanly conduct through gritted teeth.

“Waaah…”

Seeing that her master and mistress were paying her no attention at all, Beldina finally burst into tears.

“Alright. What heinous thing did the little one do this time?” Victor asked, composing himself.

Elina’s brows shot up. She glared at Victor and said angrily, “You’ve spoiled Beldina rotten! The other attendants can lead the servants in cleaning the manor, but Beldina ran off to the kitchen alone, stole blueberry juice, and even got her clothes dirty. With her being so undisciplined, what will Marchioness Sophia think of Silver Moon Manor? What will she think of me, Alice, and Lilia?”

Victor was silent for a moment, then pointed to the hourglass, which was still more than half full. “You didn’t know I was here, so what did you come for?”

Elina stared fiercely into Victor’s eyes for a while, then finally let out a “pfft” and laughed. Shaking her head helplessly, she walked over to Beldina, knelt down to take the pillow off her head, and took out a silk handkerchief to gently wipe the tears and snot from her face.

“It’s the attendants’ snack time. Go on now. After you’ve eaten, go and clean the stables. If you make another mistake, I’ll have Mr. Gornell punish you severely!”

Beldina first gave Elina a hug, then curtsied to Victor before scampering out of the room, the “thump, thump, thump” of her footsteps echoing from far away.

Elina turned and instructed, “Gornell, you may return to your duties.”

The Lithe Ape militiaman nodded and left the reception room with light steps. Elina rested her head on Victor’s shoulder and whispered, “Bel is so cute… Apart from Mr. ‘Wood’—oh, it’s Gornell… apart from Gornell, no one in Silver Moon Manor can handle her.”

“Darling, I want a daughter like Bel.”

“We will have one.” Victor patted Elina’s slender hand and asked, “Where is Lilia?”

“In the fifth-floor study, with Alice.” Elina linked her arm with Victor’s, walked him to the staircase, and said, “Darling, I still have many things to handle. You go up and find them yourself.”

Victor nodded and went up the stairs to the fifth floor. Before he even reached the study door, he heard a melodious chatter.

“Lady Sylvia’s room must not be changed in any way. The standard of items in the other guest rooms must not exceed that of Lady Sylvia’s room, but they still need to be graded. Victor and Marchioness Sophia’s master bedroom will be furnished to the standard of a Marquess…”

“Mm, make a list. Whatever money is needed, I’ll allocate it to you. I’m just afraid we won’t be able to buy fine things in Wildwillow City.”

“Don’t worry, you can buy all sorts of fine things in Wildwillow City, as long as you have the money…”

“Oh, and the food…”

“That’s not a problem. Our House of Randell’s master chefs are all top-notch.”

“The taste is certainly not in question, but the key is the ingredients! Only rare ingredients can reflect the nobility and distinction of our House of Randell!”

“Then let’s have Jack get some more game from the Great Marsh. For example, shipworms are quite good…”

“Shipworms? How disgusting… but they are really delicious. We should give them a new name. Hmm, how about ‘shell-less swamp clams’?”

Lilia was wearing the same style of dress as Elina. Barefoot, she knelt on a round stool, the curve from her peachy, pert bottom to her slender waist forming an alluring line. Alice sat beside her, her long, beautiful legs stretched out from under the small table. Her wine-red hair covered her pretty face, and she hadn’t bothered to tidy it. The two of them were shoulder to shoulder, their heads close together, pointing and scribbling on a parchment scroll.

Since when did these two become so close?

Victor muttered to himself, then cleared his throat and said, “What are you two doing?”

“My lord, you’re finally back?!” Alice stood up, overjoyed, and greeted him. “I was just about to ask you, what color does Marchioness Sophia like?”

“Uh… what color she likes? Is that important?”

“Very important!” Lilia slipped on her high heels, pulled Victor over to sit by the small table, and said, “We need to fill Marchioness Sophia’s wardrobe with clothes. Knowing her favorite colors is essential for placing the orders. And Marchioness Sophia’s figure—you must be very familiar with it. Tell us, quickly! It takes time for the tailors to make the clothes!”

“Of course I know. But I’d rather know how much money you’ve spent to please Sophia,” Victor said with a stern face.

“Not much, just twenty-four thousand Gold Sol. We might need another eight thousand later, as we’re planning to install crystal windows,” Lilia said nonchalantly.

Twenty-four thousand Gold Sol? And ‘just’? That’s twenty Alchemical militia, or thirty Alchemical Warhounds, or half an Alchemical Dragon-Lizard, just gone?!

Victor’s heart ached as if a knife were twisting in it. He never imagined that while he was scheming to squeeze Sophia for all she was worth, Lilia, the little miser, would be in cahoots with the two sisters, spending a fortune to please Sophia without even batting an eye.

“Don’t you know, Sophia won’t be living in Silver Moon Manor for long! She and her people are staying in Raven Town!” Victor said, his heart full of pain. “Twenty-four thousand Gold Sol? And that’s ‘not much’?”

Lilia pouted her pink, cherry-like lips. “Victor, when you went to the Royal Capital, didn’t you take eighty thousand Gold Sol from the Marquess’s estate? How is us spending forty thousand Gold Sol too much? Besides, this is for renovating Silver Moon Manor… Oh, right, I’ve sent people to renovate Raven Town as well.”

“Exactly,” Alice nodded repeatedly, shaking Victor’s arm and pleading sweetly, “Darling, please tell us what color clothes Marchioness Sophia likes!”

Looking at the focused expressions on their two flower-like faces, Victor felt a faint sense of familiarity. Lilia and Alice currently looked like job applicants about to be interviewed, with Sophia as the examiner.

“Actually, Sophia doesn’t care about clothes… or food… or living arrangements. In short, spend less… I mean, it’s not necessary… don’t glare at me… alright, do as you please.”

Victor shook his head and started to walk out the door.

Once these three women became fixated on something, it was difficult to change their minds, especially when they were anxious. In any case, the money was being spent on Silver Moon Manor. Better to keep it in the family, he could only console himself with that thought.

“How many private villas need crystal windows installed in total?”

“Let me see, Marchioness Sophia’s retinue includes three Knights and eleven apprentice knights. Let’s just install them in three villas.”

Victor’s steps faltered. He turned and walked back, asking, “Alice, what did you just say?”

“About installing crystal windows?”

“Not that, the sentence before,” Victor said gravely.

Alice looked at her husband in surprise and said, “The Marchioness’s retinue has three Knights and eleven apprentice knights.”

“Never mind, you two carry on.” Victor nodded with a blank expression, turned, and left the room, closing the door behind him.

“What’s wrong with Victor?” Alice looked at Lilia, bewildered. Lilia shook her head. Suddenly, the door was pushed open again. Victor poked his head in and said, “Renovate Nicole’s Golden Oak Manor the same way!” With that, he slammed the door shut.

Alice and Lilia stared at each other for a moment, then resumed their discussion with renewed enthusiasm.

——————

Sitting in the main chair of the lord’s office, Victor was lost in thought.

The issue with the barbarians was too large, and the profits from the rock bricks too tempting. They had blinded him, causing him to overlook a crucial fact: Sophia was not alone. She represented a power. The Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild had four Knights, twenty-one apprentice knights, and six hundred elite soldiers under its command—all of whom were fiercely loyal to Marchioness Sophia. And their marriage gave them a natural influence over each other’s forces.

Elina and her sister had the York family behind them. Lilia’s brother possessed the strength of a Silver Knight, and the War Bear Mercenaries were the core backbone of the House of Randell. Their marriages to Victor all had the flavor of a political marriage; there was absolutely no need for them to fear Sophia. Yet, his three personal handmaidens were still filled with awe for the family’s lady.

Elina and Beldina were as close as mother and daughter, yet she had punished Bel. Alice and Lilia had never gotten along, yet now they were working together. Victor had never imagined that Lilia, the little miser, could be so generous. Everything they were doing was just to leave a good impression on Sophia.

If his beloved handmaidens were like this, how would others react?

When Sylvia had spoken of Victor’s strong possessiveness over his partners, it was actually a threat. Her underlying meaning was: if you dare refuse Sophia, I’ll find a man just to show you.

Victor had to admit, he had no real binding power over Gillian, Sylvia, or Sophia, because they were all high-ranking female knights. Sylvia could ensure this stable partnership as long as Victor accepted Sophia, yet she had never clearly stated what would happen to Sophia’s knights.

Legally, Victor was the independent lord of Gambis, possessing autonomy, obligated to heed the King’s call to arms but not his direct orders. Sophia, on the other hand, was a court Marchioness, a vassal of the Royal Family. For Sylvia to absorb Sophia, she would have to get the Royal Family to voluntarily strip Sophia of her title and then use the marriage to place her in the Randell Fief. This maneuver would not be difficult for Sylvia, who held many cards, but she would not directly grant Sophia a fief under the York family. Sylvia would never do anything to shake the foundations of the vassalage system, namely the vassal relationship.

Therefore, Sophia’s knights could only join the Randell Fief.

Did the House of Randell have positions for them? Would his people resist a Silver-rank lady and her knights?

Victor was struck by a sudden realization. If he had not won Sylvia’s favor and trust, the moment Sophia joined the York family would have been the moment Sylvia had him killed. Now, Sylvia would certainly demand a marriage alliance between their children. Only through this could she ensure that the Randell Fief and the York family were bound by blood.

In truth, from a lord’s perspective, Sylvia’s idea was entirely benevolent; the addition of the knights would strengthen the House of Randell. Victor didn’t mind these knights joining his family, but he had to care about what his people thought—or more accurately, whether the Leasehold Employment System could be sustained.

However, he discovered to his dismay that absorbing the knights would inevitably lead to the collapse of the Leasehold Employment System. The root cause was the populace’s yearning for the Knight-Nobility. Unless he could immediately reveal the existence of the Alchemy Tower, the Leasehold Employment System had no political foundation.

“Sylvia, my darling, I’m going to have to disappoint you. I won’t let Sophia fall. At least not before Candlefort is built!” Victor thought to himself.

Just then, Gru, the Captain of the Personal Guard, knocked and entered. He bowed his head and said, “My lord, that old fellow Barol is back. He wishes to see you.”

Chapter 324: Contempt

“The Masked Brotherhood, acting on the orders of a great Borean noble, used the underworld forces of the Dodor Kingdom to strike at merchants who specifically cooperate with the Wimbledon Merchant Association. Their next target was the Sasan Empire. However, the Shadow Warrior Zieg happened to run into us in Laurel Town, thereby exposing the Brotherhood’s movements. That is the gist of the matter.”

“There are still many questions about this affair. For example, why are the Boreans targeting the Wimbledon Merchant Association? Why is the Dodor Kingdom turning a blind eye? The strength displayed by the Masked Brotherhood is far from that of an ordinary thieves’ guild. Do the Kingdom of Borea and the Dodor Kingdom know the truth about the Brotherhood? But one thing is certain: Quicksilver annihilated a team from the Masked Brotherhood. They will surely be on alert. If the Brotherhood doesn’t abandon remote towns like Laurel Town, an underground war between Quicksilver and the Masked Brotherhood is inevitable!”

Barol finished his final statement and stood in the center of the study, quietly waiting for the lord to ask questions, or perhaps to reprimand him.

A spy was supposed to provide his master with detailed intelligence, not a series of questions.

That Shadow Warrior was just a pawn in the Brotherhood, with limited knowledge of the inside story. The hallucinogenic potion had destroyed his logical thinking, and the intelligence extracted from him was fragmented and not even entirely accurate. Barol had failed to get to the bottom of things before rushing back to report, which could be considered a dereliction of duty. However, if the Masked Brotherhood was connected to his master’s secrets, this dereliction was a necessary evil.

The Wimbledon family had a long and storied history. They had once entered a political marriage with the High Elves, established a mighty empire, and produced a renowned Sword Saint. Although they were now fragmented, no one knew how many secrets this family still held.

Victor had vaguely stated that he had inherited the legacy of a great figure, but he had never mentioned the origin of his Elite Guards. Barol dared not press the matter, but he believed that the ancient Wimbledon family was unwilling to accept their decline and was secretly training death commandos in a bid for restoration. Victor was the very heir the Wimbledon family was grooming in secret. Victor’s subsequent maneuvers had only confirmed the old spy’s suspicions.

A young noble, hidden away in the Centaur Hills, ruling over a territory yet keeping his eyes on the entire human world. He was making arrangements in the shadows, establishing a smuggling network that spanned kingdoms and winning over minor lords from all over, merely waiting for the right moment to issue a call to arms, and the new empire of the Wimbledon family would rise again.

The thought that he might become the founder of a new empire’s intelligence organization made Barol’s blood boil with excitement. But the Wimbledon family wouldn’t put all their eggs in one basket. The backer of the Masked Brotherhood could be a rival to Lord Victor, or perhaps an ally.

In short, it was best to leave everything for his lord to decide. If he happened to uncover a secret he wasn’t supposed to know, he would be courting death.

On the desk lay a fragment of a color-changing cloak, a small pouch of Bloodboil Potion powder, and three emblems of the Masked Brotherhood. Victor leaned back in his chair, his eyes slightly closed, seemingly having everything under control.

In Barol’s eyes, Victor wore an expression of profound inscrutability. He couldn’t help but feel relieved at his own wise decision not to investigate the Brotherhood’s secrets on his own initiative.

If Victor knew what Barol was thinking, he would have certainly snorted, “Have you been listening to too many bard’s tales?”

However, the truth was even more bizarre than Barol imagined. The moment Victor saw the color-changing cloak, his own mind was in turmoil. The X-3 was running at high speed, trying to make sense of the situation, leaving him no energy to pay attention to Barol’s thoughts.

After a long period of contemplation, Victor opened his eyes, rose, and walked to the back wall of the study. He pulled out a whiteboard and wrote with a charcoal pencil: Dodor Kingdom, Kingdom of Borea, Wimbledon Merchant Association, Masked Brotherhood.

“This is a puzzle.”

Pointing at the whiteboard, Victor said in a deep voice, “The cause of all this lies with the Wimbledon Merchant Association. Over a year ago, Marquess Sophia reached an agreement with the barbarians of Mount Arreat. She, representing humanity, would help a group of barbarian adventurers cross the Goldwater River to the south. In return, the barbarians would give her a handsome reward, open up trade, and provide powerful barbarian followers.”

“The problem is, the barbarians only knew that Sophia was a great human noble; they didn’t understand that she couldn’t represent all human factions. The Kingdom of Borea, for example, believed that they should receive Mount Arreat’s reward for helping the barbarians cross the river. Unfortunately, the Boreans’ attempts to persuade the barbarians failed, and in their failure to win over Sophia, they ended up offending her.”

“Sophia brought the barbarians to visit the Centaur Hills. She plans to build a port to help the barbarians cross the river. If she succeeds, how will she repay the Boreans?”

Barol interjected, “My Lady Sophia will retaliate against the Boreans and cut off their trade with Mount Arreat. So, the Boreans struck first, ordering the Masked Brotherhood to attack the Wimbledon Merchant Association and cause its collapse.”

Victor nodded. “The Boreans’ actions first required the approval of the Dodor Kingdom. They must have offered benefits to the lords of Dodor. If Sophia were to launch a counterattack, she would also need to win the support of the Dodor lords. The Dodor nobles hold the trade routes, so they can quote prices to both sides. No matter who wins or loses, it’s all gains and no losses for them.”

“No wonder the Dodor lords turned a blind eye to the Masked Brotherhood’s petty actions,” Barol said with sudden realization.

Victor tapped a spot on the board and said, “Do you think the Masked Brotherhood is a force secretly cultivated by the Boreans?”

“Definitely not.” Barol shook his head. “The Masked Brotherhood is a powerful organization with its own training camps, specializing in cultivating elite mercenaries, assassins, and warriors loyal to their cause. The Shadow Warrior Zieg’s strength probably surpasses that of an apprentice knight; even Rusa couldn’t defeat him… Zieg confessed that he knows of twenty-three other Shadow Warriors, and each Shadow Warrior commands four Bloodguards. If the Kingdom of Borea knew the Brotherhood had such strength, they would never have sent them to the Dodor Kingdom!”

“Why do you say that?”

“The spies of the Dodor Kingdom are no fools. If the Kingdom of Borea wanted to keep the Shadow Warriors and Bloodguards a secret, they shouldn’t have used them!”

Victor picked up the pouch of Bloodboil Potion powder and said slowly, “What if the Boreans have no need to keep the Shadow Warriors a secret?”

“My lord, are you saying… the Bloodboil Potion is the benefit the Kingdom of Borea offered to the Dodor Kingdom?”

“That’s a possibility.” Victor fell silent for a moment, then asked suspiciously, “Are you certain that Shadow Warrior’s Bloodlust power was an effect of the Bloodboil Potion?”

The old spy shook his head. “When Badu said Zieg might possess the power of Bloodlust, I was shocked as well. Zieg confessed that the power of Bloodlust came from a potion. He had been forced to drink three hallucinogenic potions at the time, so he couldn’t have been lying. However, the hallucinogenic potions muddled his mind, and he could only answer simple questions. He said it was a potion, but he didn’t specify it was the Bloodboil Potion. I couldn’t be sure, so I had someone ingest a dose of Bloodboil Potion to see the effect. After observing, Badu believed it was indeed the power of Bloodlust.”

“Let’s set this issue aside for now.”

Victor neither confirmed nor denied it, instead asking, “There’s another point of suspicion. The routes of large merchant associations are fixed. Sophia’s caravans only trade with the major capital cities; they would never go to a remote place like Laurel Town. Why would the Masked Brotherhood still want to control the underworld of Laurel Town?”

“My lord’s insight is truly sharp!”

Barol offered a bit of flattery before continuing, “It is for this very reason that I believe the Masked Brotherhood is not entirely controlled by the Kingdom of Borea. They likely want to use the Southwind Merchant Association as a cover to expand the Brotherhood’s own influence.”

Victor shook his head. “The conflict between the two major merchant associations will eventually have a winner and a loser. When that time comes, how could the Dodor lords tolerate a Borean thieves’ guild lingering on their territory? A purge is inevitable. What hope does the Masked Brotherhood have of escaping?”

“My lord, our two encounters with the Masked Brotherhood were by no means coincidental!” Barol raised his head and said seriously, “It’s like two powerful beasts fighting for territory. They are bound to meet, and bound to clash.”

“Regardless of the Masked Brotherhood’s background, their objectives, or their methods, they are doing what Quicksilver is doing. The difference is, they are expanding from the capital cities to the small towns, while we are influencing the capital cities through the small towns.”

“This underground war is unavoidable. The question now is whether Quicksilver is fighting to investigate our opponent, or investigating our opponent in order to win the war.”

Victor frowned. “Is there a difference between the two?”

Fighting to investigate implies that the Masked Brotherhood’s backer has a potential connection to you, so we would hold back a little. Investigating to fight means the Masked Brotherhood is your mortal enemy in the contest for the throne, so we should just annihilate them.

Barol would never dare say these words aloud, merely muttering them in his heart. He said respectfully, “My lord, if you choose the former, Quicksilver’s focus will have to shift towards the Kingdom of Borea. If you choose the latter, we will intercept and kill the Brotherhood’s men in every small town in the Dodor Kingdom. We’ll let them know that this is our turf!”

Victor thought for a moment and asked, “Did the Shadow Warrior Zieg not reveal the Brotherhood’s main hideout?”

Barol gave a wry smile. “My lord, the Eastern Alliance is in chaos. Place names can be changed, training camps can be moved. I really didn’t get any valuable intelligence. In Stonetooth City, Zieg only obeyed the orders of ‘Horse Mane.’ This is clearly an alias. Zieg doesn’t know ‘Horse Mane’ personally; they rely on emblems and secret phrases to pass messages and orders. Zieg doesn’t even know who the other Shadow Warriors are.”

“The Masked Brotherhood is so professional. Wouldn’t that arouse the suspicion of Dodor’s spies?” Victor asked with a smile.

Barol replied, “I suspect the Masked Brotherhood has three groups of people: on the surface, they are ordinary thugs and enforcers; in the shadows are elites like Zieg; and in between, there’s a group of middlemen. For matters the surface group can’t handle, the middlemen have the shadow group take care of it. The thieves’ guilds or spies in Stonetooth City are mostly ordinary people. How could they tell the difference? It’s like when an Elite Guard subdues a thug—he doesn’t need to use his full strength, so who would know he has the power of an apprentice knight?”

“My lord, the Masked Brotherhood is a formidable opponent. Whether you choose to investigate them secretly or declare war, Quicksilver will need more funds and manpower,” Barol cautiously offered his opinion.

Victor pondered for a moment before saying, “Since they are an opponent of similar strength, the fight will surely be without reservation. The Masked Brotherhood will be exposed, and so will Quicksilver. The Brotherhood has the Kingdom of Borea as cover, but Quicksilver will become the primary target of Dodor’s spies. Therefore, Quicksilver also needs a backer.”

Barol’s eyes lit up. “My lord, you mean…”

Victor smiled. “Isn’t my wife, Sophia, the best protector for Quicksilver? Besides, she’s very rich! Since the Masked Brotherhood is using their connection to the Kingdom of Borea to expand their influence, we will use the network and wealth of the Wimbledon Merchant Association to spread our smuggling network across the Dodor Kingdom and the Sasan Empire.”

“My lord is wise!”

Victor gave his spymaster a faint glance and said, “You must remember, Quicksilver is my Quicksilver. It has nothing to do with my wife!”

“My lord, I am loyal only to you!” Barol said with a solemn expression, his hands dropping to his sides as he bowed.

Victor gave a slight nod. “In three days, I will summon Narsen and the others to discuss our next steps. Go back and prepare. After the meeting, I will naturally provide Quicksilver with more support.”

“As you wish, my Honored Master.” Barol suppressed the wild joy in his heart, bowed, and took his leave.

Victor was left alone in the study. He stared at the color-changing cloak for a while, then his gaze shifted to the Bloodboil Potion. A sharp gleam flashed in his eyes as he raised his hand and rang the bell on the desk.

A Lithe Ape militiaman pushed the door open and entered. “My lord, what are your orders?”

“Logen, take this pouch of Bloodboil Potion and tell me its effects.”

“Yes.” Logen tore open the seal on the thin leather pouch and, without hesitation, poured the powder into his mouth, swallowing it with his saliva. Ten breaths later, his eyes began to turn red, his muscles bulged high, and the veins on the back of his hands stood out like earthworms. Finally, his skin turned crimson, making him look quite terrifying.

“Strength increased. Hearing and vision are sharper. Sense of touch is dulled. My control has decreased significantly,” the Lithe Ape militiaman’s voice was mixed with heavy breaths, like that of an angry bull.

Victor commanded, “Grip your scimitar and cleave the desk in two with all your might!”

Logen drew his blade with a sudden movement. A streak of ethereal blue light slashed toward the iron-oak desk. Just as it was about to land, a flash of pale green sword light flickered. Amidst the clang of colliding weapons, the refined iron scimitar spun into the air. With a thunk, it embedded itself in the ceiling, its hilt quivering nonstop.

Victor sheathed his sword, shook his numb fingers, and said, “Take your blade down, then go back to your room and rest.”

“As you command.” Logen leaped up lightly to retrieve his scimitar, but his helmet unexpectedly hit the ceiling. He took his scimitar and strode out of the room.

Victor shook his head inwardly. Logen had been practicing the Mystic Form for four years and was one of the best among the Lithe Ape militiamen. In past spars, Victor would have had to change the direction of force at least eight times to send his scimitar flying, but just now, he had achieved it with only three changes.

The Spirit Monkey Mystic Form aimed for the unity of body and mind; Logen’s control over his body was far beyond that of an ordinary person. The test showed that after taking the Bloodboil Potion, Logen’s strength and attack speed increased by thirty percent, but he couldn’t perfectly control the sudden surge of power, unable to even hold his blade steady. This meant the Bloodboil Potion could only enhance the combat effectiveness of ordinary soldiers. For Ferocious Warriors, whose base attributes were already too high, the external boost was more of a burden.

According to Barol’s intelligence, the difference between a Shadow Warrior and a Bloodguard was the perfect control over the power of Bloodlust. To achieve this, one must undergo years of training. Could a Shadow Warrior master Bloodlust simply by drinking Bloodboil Potion every day? That was obviously impossible.

The fact that the Shadow Warrior Zieg had frontally assassinated a Crouching Ox Militiaman meant there was only one possibility: he truly possessed the power of Bloodlust! The Masked Brotherhood had a method for creating warriors with Bloodlust!

Just who in the world were the Masked Brotherhood?

Victor picked up the fragment of the color-changing cloak, rubbing it for a moment. He rose, walked back to the whiteboard, and wrote “Alchemy Tower” directly above “Masked Brotherhood.”

The Alchemical Humans had mastered hundreds of potion formulas. Among the more than seventy potions that could currently be produced, only two belonged to the extraordinary category. One was the color-changing dye, and the other was the Restoration Potion. Because he was still missing five ingredients, the alchemical auxiliary soldier Butz had yet to produce a finished Restoration Potion, but the color-changing dye had already been applied to Victor’s thorium armor. Its effect was as if from the same mold as the color-changing cloak Barol had confiscated; the Alchemical militia would never be mistaken.

The fact that the Masked Brotherhood possessed the color-changing dye meant it was undoubtedly a legacy of the Alchemical Empire. So, was the Bloodboil Potion also a formula from the Alchemical Empire?

After the fall of the Alchemical Empire, who inherited her legacy?

Victor thought for a moment and wrote “Mages’ Association” below “Alchemical Empire,” then added “Chosen City-states” as a note.

Master Edwin had said that the Tower’s Potion-making originated from the Church’s Ivory Sanctum, and the Ivory Sanctum had collected the knowledge of the Chosen.

Below “Mages’ Association,” he added “Radiant Church.”

The bone structure of the elite soldiers trained by the Masked Brotherhood was similar to that of Sacred Warriors, suggesting some connection between them. There was another possibility: the training methods of the Sacred Warriors came from the Chosen City-states, and the backer of the Masked Brotherhood was the inheritor of the Chosen City-states—a wizard organization!

The Radiant Church had ruled the human world for nearly eight thousand years, so the possibility of a Chosen lineage surviving was minuscule. But the Church had no reason to secretly manipulate the Masked Brotherhood. However, the internal factions of the Church were also complex. Besides the Radiant Knights and the Curia, there was also the unfathomable Monastery Council of Elders, as well as the Pope.

The Westward Migration of the Forest Centaurs, the settlement of the Centaur Hills by Gambis, the little Baron’s death by a wizard’s assassination… it was all as if paving the way for me, or perhaps, for the “King.” After the Alchemy Tower’s revival, the Ant-man invasion of the Centaur Hills led to the Alchemy Tower’s growth. The second assassination attempt on the little Baron came from the Kingdom of Borea’s Throat-slitter, who was an assassin from the Bloody Hand Brotherhood and also a member of the Masked Brotherhood. And now, the Alchemical militia had run into the Masked Brotherhood! If the organization behind the Masked Brotherhood was indeed the inheritor of the Chosen, it’s possible they secretly guided all of this. If so, what is their ultimate goal?

Victor hesitated for a moment, then next to “Chosen City-states,” he wrote “Devils.” Next to “Radiant Church,” he wrote “Lord of Radiance,” and below “Masked Brotherhood,” he wrote “Victor Wimbledon.”

On the board now appeared: Alchemical Empire, Mages’ Association, Chosen (Devils), Radiant Church (Lord of Radiance), Masked Brotherhood, and Victor Wimbledon.

The Devils lost to the Lord of Radiance. Do they want me to restore the Alchemical Empire in order to overthrow the Lord of Radiance?

Standing before the board, Victor felt as if he was trapped in a giant, invisible net, unable to struggle, powerless to resist. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and when he opened them again, he raised a middle finger to the board.

“Fuck you!”

Chapter 325: Preparations

“That is all the information Quicksilver has on the Masked Brotherhood.”

After Barol finished speaking, he sat down at the lower end of the long table. To his right was Old John. Across the table were Narsen, Iron Hammer, and Kidd. Victor sat at the head of the table, with Lilia by his side.

At this meeting, Victor planned to adjust the development strategy for the smuggling network, introduce the concept of the Golden Merchant Guild, and discuss it in detail. Everyone in the conference room played a crucial role in Victor’s plan.

Barol controlled Quicksilver, the spy organization. Besides gathering intelligence for the House of Randell, his primary job was actually to serve the smuggling network. This included buying off local gangs, using ruffians and hooligans to transport smuggled goods, providing cover for The Golden Company’s freemen merchants, and occasionally moonlighting as an assassin to eliminate those who wouldn’t cooperate.

Old John managed The Golden Company’s freemen merchants, controlled the public carriages on key routes, and supervised The Golden Company’s finances and distribution of goods.

Iron Hammer and Kidd represented the smuggling caravans. They were responsible for maintaining the secret trade routes and the mountain stronghold nodes, recruiting mountain folk hunters and freemen mercenaries, transporting goods, and liaising with the fiefs’ villages connected to the strongholds.

The Narsen siblings were the second-in-command of the House of Randell. With the exception of the Alchemy Tower and the wizard Imosen, Victor kept nothing from them regarding the affairs of the Randell Fief and the smuggling network, both large and small, including personnel arrangements. When Victor was away from the fief, Lilia and Narsen had to ensure the continuous operation of the House of Randell and The Golden Company.

Everyone in the room was one of Victor’s first followers. They had weathered the Ant-man plague together. While taking refuge in Black Fortress Town, they had rejected the York family’s recruitment and resolutely returned to the utterly destitute Randell Fief. They all knew about the existence of the Elite Guards. Their fates were inextricably linked with the House of Randell, and they could truly be called Victor’s confidants.

This closed-door meeting further solidified everyone’s understanding of their own roles. Old John, with the air of a loyal vassal ready to die for his insulted lord, said grimly, “The Masked Brotherhood is blocking our family’s path to wealth. We cannot let them off!”

Victor turned his head and asked, “Narsen, what do you think?”

Narsen smacked his lips, resting his brawny arms on the table. His gaze was restrained, but a deep glint like that of glazed stone shone in his eyes. He chuckled darkly. “That fellow Rusa has sparred with me. He’s quite strong. For a Shadow Warrior of the Masked Brotherhood to be able to assassinate Rusa head-on and then escape Quicksilver’s encirclement…”

“He lost an arm and ended up in our hands in the end,” Barol corrected him.

“But he faced a group of Elite Guards alone. His infiltration, surprise attack, silencing of witnesses, counter-kill, and escape—his martial prowess, skill, willpower, and adaptability are all first-rate. One-on-one, I’m afraid our Elite Guards are no match for a Shadow Warrior,” Narsen said in a low, muffled voice.

Victor nodded. “Wisdom and experience are also a part of combat strength. The Elite Guards are indeed no match for the Shadow Warriors. Narsen, please continue.”

“Right.” Narsen rubbed his head, organizing his thoughts. He continued, “Those two Bloodguards worked together to kill Gelaka in the dense forest. Their strength is close to that of an initial-rank apprentice knight. In terms of real combat experience, most of those young nobles who advanced using cleansing potions are no match for the Bloodguards.”

“And the elite mercenaries trained by the Masked Brotherhood cannot be underestimated!”

Narsen slammed his chest, creating a loud thump that made the long table jump. Lilia’s face paled. Seeing that her brother was unharmed, her shapely brows shot up as she snapped, “Are you running a fever? Why are you hitting yourself for no reason!”

“I didn’t use much force… didn’t use much force…” Narsen awkwardly picked up the coffee cup that had rolled across the table and continued, “My body is already strong enough. The household guards can’t hurt me even with maces. But if I were to stand still and let the York family’s Tusk Soldiers stab me with all their might using refined iron spears, I’d be severely injured, possibly even killed. Even a Knight who hasn’t reached Silver-rank can’t block a direct thrust from an Elite Soldier. It’s just that Knights are stronger, faster, can advance and retreat at will, and their mind and body are one, allowing them to kill several ordinary soldiers in a single exchange. That’s why everyone mistakenly thinks ordinary soldiers are weak. But don’t forget, ordinary soldiers can kill an Ogre! A Knight who makes a mistake in battle can also die at the hands of Elite Soldiers.”

“The mercenaries of the Masked Brotherhood are even stronger than the York family’s Tusk Soldiers. If that battle outside Laurel Town had taken place in an open field during the day, Quicksilver’s losses would have been far more than just two Elite Guards!”

“What I’m trying to say is, the Masked Brotherhood’s mercenaries have the ability to kill our Elite Guards!”

Narsen let out a breath and said, “The family’s Elite Guards are simple-minded. They’re powerful, but their minds aren’t flexible enough. They excel in field battles, but not in the alley fights of gang warfare. To be honest, we mercenaries aren’t good at dealing with town thugs either. Outside a town tavern, a mercenary can get bludgeoned, poisoned, or stabbed to death with a dagger… Those bastards carry daggers and walk down the street, and we can’t even tell who the enemy is.”

“The men of the Masked Brotherhood, on the other hand, excel at this sort of thing. Barol, if a Shadow Warrior kills Quicksilver’s core members, what will the remaining Elite Guards do? If you all go into hiding, who will direct the Elite Guards to identify the enemy? If the Masked Brotherhood’s mercenaries disguise themselves as ordinary people and get close enough to assassinate our Elite Guards, their chance of success isn’t small.”

Barol pondered for a moment, then sighed. “Lord Narsen is right. What Quicksilver lacks isn’t Elite Guards, but ordinary assassins. The Masked Brotherhood, however, has almost no weaknesses.”

Kidd couldn’t help but speak up. “Are we just going to admit defeat? If the Masked Brotherhood reaches Gambis, are we supposed to back down then too?”

“Of course we can’t admit defeat!”

Narsen laughed heartily. “My lord, the Masked Brotherhood has unique training methods; they have plenty of thugs. If we get entangled with them in the towns, the killing will be endless, and our losses will be too great.”

“My point is, let me just lead a team to the Eastern Alliance, wipe out their training camps, and snatch all their training methods for Elite Soldiers, Shadow Warriors, and Bloodguards!” Narsen’s eyes glinted with a “vicious” light, revealing his true intentions.

The man was after the Masked Brotherhood’s secret arts.

“Save it. We can’t even beat them here, so what are you going to do in the Eastern Alliance? Get yourself killed? Do you even know where the Masked Brotherhood’s den is?” Victor glared at Narsen.

Barol stood up and said, “My lord, I think Lord Narsen is right. I can investigate the location of their den…”

“Right my ass!”

Victor snapped irritably, “Do you think Elite Soldiers are like Spiked Kidney Beans? You pick them, they grow back, you pick them again? The number of Shadow Warriors and Bloodguards is even smaller. Once Quicksilver hurts them badly, cripples them, they’ll naturally withdraw to their den.”

Barol bowed. “My lord, I was being foolish.”

“You’re not the one being foolish,” Lilia muttered, then shot Narsen a look. “What a terrible idea!”

The York family’s Great Knights generally acknowledged Narsen as a Silver-rank Ferocious Warrior, and his prestige within the House of Randell was second only to the lord himself. The old spy, with his limited power, would never dare to offend Victor’s number one general, who was also My Lady Lilia’s own brother. If Narsen wanted to go to the Eastern Alliance, Barol would let him go. As for whether the Masked Brotherhood’s den could be found, that was ultimately up to Quicksilver.

Victor was somewhat surprised that Lilia understood Barol’s intentions. He smiled and asked, “Tell me, why is it a terrible idea?”

“The Masked Brotherhood’s connections run deep. On the surface, they have the backing of a great lord from Borea, and who knows how many other powers are supporting them from behind the scenes. But no matter how strong they are, they can’t use their full strength on Dodor’s home turf. As long as we display a force stronger than theirs, they’ll retreat after suffering a few losses. But if we attack their den, they will surely counterattack with everything they have. Even if we could swallow the Masked Brotherhood whole, our losses wouldn’t be small. We might even be completely wiped out,” Lilia said.

“Well said.” Victor patted Lilia’s little hand, then turned to Narsen. “You’ve gotten us completely sidetracked.”

“My lord, what do you mean, ‘gotten us completely sidetracked’?” Narsen looked confused.

“I didn’t summon you all to discuss the annihilation of the Masked Brotherhood.” Victor waved his hand and said, “We are not as strong as them. For now, they are blocking our path, so we just need to move them aside. That’s all. As for the future, our strength will only continue to grow, enough to face any challenge!”

“Barol, does Quicksilver have any countermeasures for the current situation?”

Barol first bowed to Lilia and said, “My Lady was just correct. Both the Masked Brotherhood and Quicksilver operate in the shadows, so we can only compete covertly. At a time like this, local gangs become the focus of contention for both sides. Quicksilver can remain behind the scenes, coercing or buying off local thugs, having them scout the Masked Brotherhood’s locations, and then eliminating them one by one. Of course, the Masked Brotherhood will do the same. So, this underground war comes down to a contest of money and connections.”

“Quicksilver needs Elite Guards, and it needs a large sum of funds!”

“How much money do we have?” Victor asked Lilia.

“We have 110,000 Gold Sols on the books.”

Lilia bit her lip, turned her face away, and said poutingly, “This money is all allocated. Laketon is still expanding, and we have to hold a military parade and the Carnival soon. That’s going to cost a lot, a lot of money. We also have to prepare this year’s tax payment to the Royal Family… In short, there’s no money!”

Victor shrugged, spread his hands, and wore a helpless expression. “You see, we’re very poor.” The room erupted in laughter. Lilia was flustered and annoyed. Victor stood up and smiled, “Fortunately, my wife Sophia is very rich, and the Masked Brotherhood was after her to begin with. So, she will provide the money and connections. We will be responsible for cutting off the Masked Brotherhood’s hands, and while we’re at it, expand our smuggling network into the Dodor Kingdom and the Sasan Empire.”

“Great idea!” Narsen praised loudly.

Victor smiled faintly, then changed his tone. “However, Sophia is Sophia, and Randell is Randell. Our goal is to make money for the family. So how do we do that?”

“By selling smuggled goods!” Old John shouted.

“Correct.” Victor nodded and said, “Coffee is an elemental affinity beverage. It can clear the mind, quicken one’s thoughts, and even help a Knight resonate with the fire element node. Snow Sugar can effectively restore a scholar’s vigor. Coffee and Snow Sugar are favored by court nobles and Knights.”

“One pound of coffee plus five pounds of Snow Sugar sells for forty Gold Sols in the Royal Capital of Gambis, sixty Gold Sols in the Dodor Kingdom, eighty Gold Sols in the Sasan Empire, sixty Gold Sols in Naville and the Kingdom of Ayr, eighty Gold Sols in the Kingdom of Sus, and in the wealthiest Kingdom of Borea, a set of coffee and Snow Sugar sells for a staggering one hundred Gold Sols!”

“The warehouse at Hill Camp has a stockpile of sixty thousand pounds of coffee and two hundred thousand pounds of Snow Sugar. The House of Randell can also produce twenty thousand pounds of coffee and one hundred fifty thousand pounds of Snow Sugar annually. If I sell each set of coffee and Snow Sugar for ten Gold Sols, everyone, do the math. How much money will the House of Randell have?”

Narsen hurriedly started counting on his fingers. Lilia chided him playfully, “Do you even need to count? Six hundred thousand Gold Sols, with another two hundred thousand Gold Sols of income every year!”

A wave of gulping sounds filled the conference room. Lilia’s eyes sparkled as she pulled on Victor’s hand, cooing, “My dear, you’ve stored up so much coffee and Snow Sugar. Why didn’t you sell it? I thought the annual production of coffee was only eight hundred pounds.”

“If I sold it openly, the major caravans would be fighting tooth and nail over it.” Victor smiled. “But I don’t want to enrich outsiders. I’d rather let you all make the money. And The Golden Company is the tool to make money for everyone.”

“Old John, has Narsen spoken to you about The Golden Company?”

Old John bowed. “Yes, my lord.”

Victor nodded and said, “Every freemen merchant who cooperates with the smuggling caravans can join The Golden Company, but there are two conditions. First, they must pay a joining fee of five hundred Gold Sols. Second, they must commit to purchasing two public carriages within three years, and then one per year after that, until I am satisfied.”

“Merchants of The Golden Company will have the right to sell raw sugar Candied fruit, as well as coffee and Snow Sugar. We’ll only allow one outlet per small town, and no more than five in each capital city. The purchase price for coffee and Snow Sugar will not exceed thirty Gold Sols, and the selling price will not be less than forty Gold Sols, subject to adjustments based on transportation distance.”

Old John asked, “My lord, what if they are unwilling to purchase the carriages?”

“Then they’re out.”

Victor shook his head and sighed, “Only freemen merchants who operate public carriages will receive the protection of the Church. This is actually a benefit The Golden Company funnels to the Church. When we control enough public carriages, the Church will become our strong ally, and our smuggling trade can move from the shadows into the light.” He paused for a moment, his tone turning stern. “You do not need to know the reasons for this, nor should you try to find out. Otherwise, there will be big trouble.”

The Pool of Holy Power was a secret of the clergy, and Father Miller had repeatedly asked Victor to maintain secrecy. He didn’t want a new resident priest, so naturally, he would keep his mouth shut. The others didn’t dare ask further questions and just nodded repeatedly.

Victor paused, then said to Iron Hammer and Kidd, “The smuggling caravans will be divided into Pioneer Caravans and Private Merchant Caravans. I will bear all profits and losses for the Pioneer Caravans. They will be equipped with fifteen Elite Guards, forty mercenaries, and twenty Camelopes, and will be responsible for opening up new trade routes. The Private Merchant Caravans will handle the established routes and will be equipped with five Elite Guards, sixty mercenaries, and sixty Camelopes. With coffee and Snow Sugar, the Private Merchant Caravans can’t possibly lose money. The purchase price is ten Gold Sols per set, and the selling price will be determined by transport costs, but you must ensure the merchants have a profit to make.”

“Understood.”

Iron Hammer nodded emphatically. Kidd hesitated for a moment, then said, “My lord, the more goods a Private Merchant Caravan carries, the more it earns. I suggest the Pioneer Caravans clear out all the monsters along the trade routes. That way, we can transport goods with a hundred Camelopes.”

Victor was aghast and quickly said, “If you clear out the monsters, the mountain folk villages will no longer be obedient. When a Pioneer Caravan encounters a monster colony, avoid it if you can. Don’t ever do such a thankless job!”

“You fool, without bandits and monsters, how would mercenaries make a living? You have your own smuggling caravan, are you afraid you won’t make money?” Old John scolded.

“Oh.” Kidd shrank back and answered dejectedly.

Although the ten Gold Sol selling price for a set of coffee and Snow Sugar was not high, after layers of markups and profit sharing, the majority of the profits would still land in Victor’s pockets. At the same time, this bound the mountain folk mercenaries and freemen merchants to him, while the core members of the House of Randell could also line their pockets. A shared interest naturally pleases everyone, with the sole exception of Quicksilver, which was not allowed to have its own source of revenue.

Victor turned his gaze to Barol and said, “Quicksilver will not participate in the profit-sharing. Its required funds will be covered by the family. In fact, I spend the most money on Quicksilver.”

“My lord, Quicksilver belongs only to you!” Barol said with the utmost reverence.

“Very good.”

Victor sat back down and nodded at Lilia. Lilia stood up, walked over to a wall cabinet, took out several parchment scrolls, and placed them on the table, gesturing for everyone to pass them around and read them.

“The materials the family needs are listed on these, including soft silver ore and several types of medicinal herbs. I require you to purchase as many of those herbs as possible. If you discover soft silver, you must report it to me immediately. You must not attract the attention of the local lord!”

Procuring strategic materials and gathering intelligence were important functions of the smuggling network. Thorium was a bulk commodity, and the Private Merchant Caravans were not yet capable of transporting large quantities of thorium ore, but that didn’t stop Victor from laying the groundwork. The medicinal herbs were raw materials for making Restoration Potions. Victor intended to use Restoration Potions to verify a hypothesis.

Restoration Potions were elixirs that helped Alchemists recover their vigor. If they could also restore a Knight’s Aura, it would prove that Knights were, in fact, Alchemists, and that although the Alchemical Empire had fallen, the descendants of the Alchemists were not extinct. From this, one could deduce that the Mages’ Association of the Alchemical Empire and the line of the Chosen were one and the same. This fact would become the first piece of Victor’s puzzle, helping him uncover more clues.

Victor had painstakingly cultivated the House of Randell and the smuggling network precisely to deal with all potential crises, including the Ant-men. Now, the smuggling network had become his asset.

Chapter 326: War-Soldiers

In the study of Silver Moon Manor, Victor was hunched over the writing desk, his quill flying across the page.

It was called a study, but in truth, it was merely a writing room. The bookcases were filled with all sorts of parchment scrolls, quills, ink, sealing wax with stamps, and various ornaments—everything except actual books.

Bookmaking was often the task of monks. In the scriptoriums of monasteries, monks would painstakingly copy texts by hand onto parchment. This parchment, made from the skins of sheep, goats, or calves, was cut to the appropriate size. The process of making parchment was incredibly complex and extremely expensive; each calfskin was carefully selected to ensure it was free of any blemishes before the next steps could be taken. The finished parchment was soft, smooth, and could be preserved for a thousand years.

Copying a book was also a time-consuming and laborious project. A team of a dozen or so monks at a monastery would work together, sometimes taking several months to complete a single volume. Monks often decorated books with expensive metals and gems and created exquisite book-bags to prevent damage.

If a noble wished to possess such a book, they might have to donate a large offering of gold or supplies to a monastery, an amount equivalent to a village’s harvest for five years. Even then, it depended on whether the Church was willing to reward the lord with a book.

A collection of books became a symbol of a family’s heritage. Victor had seen a wall full of ancient tomes in the Auguste family’s Aerie Fortress, and Sylvia’s Rose Manor also housed several hundred hand-copied parchment books.

The House of Randell was only four years old, as nascent as an infant, so it naturally had no book collection. The magnificent crystal chandelier and the crystal windows, as expensive as gold, only made the study seem shabby and empty in contrast.

Victor possessed a photographic memory, and the contents of the York family’s library had long been imprinted in his mind via his X-3’s memory function. However, those books were mostly the travelogues of Bards, historical biographies, epic legends, and literary works praising the Supreme Lord. Their main purpose was to promote the Virtues of Knights and the clergy, and they held little practical value.

Victor often thought that it was perhaps the influence of these books that had forged Sylvia’s conviction to protect her family in her childhood. If it were merely for show, Victor could have easily had his Alchemical auxiliary soldiers copy these books, but he felt it was unnecessary. He possessed the values of a modern man and placed more emphasis on practicality.

The flora and fauna indexes, monster encyclopedias, potion recipes, secret training arts, and various blueprints were all hidden in the secret room of the mountain stronghold. The study in Silver Moon Manor contained only account ledgers, work logs, meeting memorandums, property deeds, and various rules and regulations.

At this moment, Victor was writing the detailed regulations for The Golden Company.

The quill scratched against the parchment scroll with a soft rustle, its strokes elegant and fluid, possessing a great artistic beauty.

Placing a period at the end of the last clause, Victor waved away the faint breeze swirling around the quill and nodded in satisfaction.

Ever since he had comprehended Activation in the Gloomy Forest, his Moon Elf bloodline seemed to have been further unleashed. Whenever Victor entered a state of focus, a gentle breeze would naturally envelop him without any expenditure of his Spirit, and the time it took to condense the void wind element had greatly reduced, shortening from the original fifteen seconds to the current ten. Although it still couldn’t compare to the instantaneous mastery of a High-ranked Knight, it had significantly increased the frequency of his wind element shots. Furthermore, his stamina had reached an unbelievable level. Victor could run at full speed through the western mountains, covering a distance of 210 kilometers within three hours. While this was certainly aided by the naturally swirling breeze that made him as light as a swallow, he hadn’t triggered Activation, relying entirely on his own physical endurance to surpass even Gillian.

Yes, this was a point Victor had personally verified countless times.

The lines of Victor’s face had softened, and his skin was as lustrous as jade. He looked like a handsome sixteen-year-old youth, his dark eyes as deep as the night sky, constantly exuding a fresh, natural aura. Whenever Miss Chapman saw him, her eyes would light up with an expression that looked like she wanted to devour him whole. Nicole was even worse, and even Sylvia had expressed “jealousy” over Victor’s current appearance. She joked that if she were to “lend” him to the Queen of Sus, she could certainly get an interest-free loan of five million Gold Sol in return.

In reality, High-ranked Knights were transcendent, not governed by sensory pleasures; what they valued were Bloodline and emotion. As for ordinary Nobles, they could only gaze up at the Silver-rank Wind Walk Archer with awe, not daring to show the slightest disrespect.

The changes in his appearance didn’t trouble Victor, but the loss of one point in his Physique attribute was particularly vexing. Fortunately, his bloodline talents had all improved, extending the duration of Apocalypse to twelve minutes. Victor had a faint feeling that if his Moon Elf bloodline were to sublimate again, Wind Walk would become a passive talent like Super Sense and Blind Sense, and the duration of Apocalypse would reach twenty minutes—the exact duration of the X-3’s Overlimit state.

The light patter of footsteps echoed from down the corridor. An image of Lilia formed in Victor’s mind.

Before the Personal Guard could knock, Victor instructed, “Please show My Lady Lilia in.”

Lilia entered the study and gave Victor a sweet smile. With a twist of her waist, her pale yellow skirt fluttered, offering a fleeting glimpse of her well-proportioned legs, an unintentional display of charming grace.

Victor wrapped an arm around her astonishingly supple waist. Following the tradition of partners, he first placed a gentle kiss on Lilia’s tender, cherry-pink lips, then gallantly pulled out a chair for her.

“Has Barol departed?” he asked.

“Yes. He just left.” Lilia didn’t take the seat; instead, she gathered her skirt and sat on Victor’s lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. She took a deep breath, her pretty face showing a cute look of blissful satisfaction.

“Barol took three thousand Gold Sol and fifty men… Darling, Uriel and the others are all excellent craftsmen. I think it’s a bit inappropriate for you to have them join Quicksilver to fight and kill members of the Masked Brotherhood,” Lilia said hesitantly.

The underground war between Quicksilver and the Masked Brotherhood had already begun. To ensure an advantage, Victor had ordered Fermi’s Kestrel Mercenary Company and Baritt’s The Bear Company to halt their missions and be ready to support Quicksilver’s operations at a moment’s notice. Barol also had eighteen Alchemical militia and the men from Kestrel and The Bear Company, giving Quicksilver a force of forty-five Alchemical militia and eleven Alchemical Warhounds to deploy. But this presented Victor with a problem.

The Alchemical militia were similar in strength to the Shadow Warriors, and neither side would hold back. Even with cover from the Hart and Southwind merchant caravans, there was still a risk of exposure. Therefore, the high-end combatants on both sides couldn’t engage in open battle; they had to remain hidden, waiting for an opportunity. However, the Masked Brotherhood also had a group of elite soldiers and well-trained thugs. If the Shadow Warriors adopted a reactive strategy, Quicksilver would be in an awkward position.

The ruffians under Quicksilver’s control were no match for the Masked Brotherhood’s mercenaries. If the Alchemical militia didn’t counterattack, Quicksilver would be utterly defeated. But if they did attack, they would expose themselves, and the Shadow Warriors would follow, launching assassinations or drawing the attention of Dodor’s spies to the Alchemical militia.

In light of this, Victor arranged for a batch of Alchemical auxiliary soldiers to join Quicksilver.

The Alchemical auxiliary soldiers had a Physique of 10, Spirit of 7, Perception of 7, and Life of 3. They cost five hundred Gold Sol to create, consumed 7 points of Soul Fire, and had three skill slots. Victor had loaded them with one production skill, the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form, and Long Weapon Proficiency. They were only missing the close combat proficiency of the Lithe Ape militiamen.

The physical stats of the Alchemical auxiliary soldiers were already on par with Elite Soldiers. Loaded with the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form and ranged weapon proficiency, they were all first-rate archers, capable of hitting a fleeing wild rabbit from eighty meters with a longbow. Cultivating the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form made them agile, and the innate learning ability of Alchemical humans allowed them to quickly master the use of various weapons. In terms of individual strength, the Alchemical auxiliary soldiers were in no way inferior to the Tusk Soldiers of the York family. Of course, individual strength did not equate to combat effectiveness. Twenty Tusk Soldiers could tangle with an Ogre, whereas twenty Alchemical auxiliary soldiers a would simply be torn to shreds. However, the Alchemical auxiliaries were fearless of death and pain, and this point alone made them the most terrifying of warriors. With sufficient numbers, Alchemical auxiliary soldiers could, like the Ant-men, crush any enemy in a frontal assault.

Compared to the Alchemical militia, an Alchemical auxiliary soldier was cheaper to produce, consumed less Soul Fire, possessed the same lifespan, learning ability, and fearless nature. They were the most cost-effective alchemical creature and were less likely to expose the secrets of the Alchemy Tower. When he first began to develop the Randell Fief, Victor had planned to mass-produce Alchemical auxiliary soldiers to serve as his basic troops. It was only during the Ant-man plague, when the Alchemy Tower suddenly went from broke to rich, that Victor began to mass-produce the Alchemical militia.

Now, as the House of Randell’s operations expanded, the shortage of alchemical creatures became apparent. The grand army plan, the smuggling caravan, the development of the Lizard Marsh, and the Southern Continent expedition all required the support of alchemical creatures. Therefore, Victor readjusted the workforce structure of the Alchemy Tower. On one hand, he freed up the Alchemical militia in the mountain stronghold by introducing Camelopes and enslaving Goblins and Lizardmen; on the other hand, he began producing Alchemical auxiliary soldiers.

In fact, Victor had started producing military-grade Alchemical auxiliary soldiers as early as two years ago. One type was an archer, loaded with Gathering, the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form, and Ranged Weapon Proficiency. Another was a spearman, loaded with Gathering, the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form, and Long Weapon Proficiency. The third was a supply troop, loaded with Gathering, the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form, and a Construction or Forging skill. Victor referred to them all as War-Soldiers.

These War-Soldiers had spent over a year mixing in with the refugee laborers before being recruited by Jack, the first Lithe Ape militiaman, to undergo militia training. When the time was right, Victor would arrange for them to join the mercenary army and the Private Merchant Caravan.

Baritt had fifteen Alchemical militia and forty War-Soldiers under his command. They were the backbone of The Bear Company and could also become the backbone of the smuggling caravan and mercenary army.

Just as Narsen had said, the abilities of elite soldiers were not to be underestimated. The Alchemical War-Soldiers might not be as flexible as the Masked Brotherhood’s mercenaries, but in terms of willpower, they were leagues ahead. When strength was comparable, the braver man wins when their paths cross. And if it came down to a war of attrition, who could possibly outlast Victor? A single War-Soldier cost only five hundred Gold Sol, and someone else was footing the bill. If the Masked Brotherhood wanted a fight, then a fight they would get.

But he couldn’t tell any of this to Lilia.

Victor pondered for a moment before saying, “Darling, you don’t think I only have the Elite Guards, do you?”

“You mean… Uriel and his men are your people too?” Lilia gasped.

“Yes.” Victor nodded. “Not everyone can become an Elite Guard. Uriel and the others lacked the talent and were eliminated during training. They were transferred to the logistics division… Do you remember Butz and the others? I’ll tell you, Butz actually survived the Ant-man plague. I’ve settled him in a secret camp that specializes in producing military equipment. Don’t tell anyone about this. One day, I’ll take you and Narsen to see it.”

“Butz didn’t die?! That’s wonderful!” Lilia covered her mouth, her eyes welling up with tears. In a choked voice, she said, “My lord, Butz and the others were so loyal to you. Why did you choose to sacrifice them back then, just to protect our retreat?”

“Some things can’t be chosen. Everyone has their own destiny. We just have to do our best,” Victor said after a moment of silence. He then broke into a smile. “Besides, you’re my wife, aren’t you? Protecting the lady of the house is also their responsibility.”

“But Uriel and the others are exceptional craftsmen! They are all precious talents of our house. How can you hand them over to Quicksilver? No, I’ll send someone to bring them back.”

Lilia jumped up, but Victor pulled her back into his arms.

“Uriel and his men are warriors first, and craftsmen second.”

“But…”

“Darling, you don’t need to think so much. A warrior has a warrior’s destiny. If the Elite Guards are exposed, I’ll be in a world of trouble.”

Two rosy clouds bloomed on Lilia’s fair cheeks. Her breathing grew shallow, her eyes became sultry and alluring, and in her hazy state of mind, she was rendered speechless.

The things the little Baron had learned weren’t completely useless, after all.

The two shared a tender moment before Lilia said faintly, “Victor, if we attack the Masked Brotherhood, Lady Sophia won’t join the Randell Fief. Is it really good for the family to lose several Knights for a small profit?”

Victor froze. He frowned and asked, “Darling, who told you that Sophia would join the Randell Fief?”

Seeing Victor’s cold expression, Lilia panicked and stammered, “It… it was Lady Uriel.”

“Lady Uriel?”

“Lady Uriel is the Head handmaiden of Rose Manor and the wife of the manor’s steward, Lord Mortis.”

“Rose Manor? Sylvia’s confidant steward?”

Victor’s tone was derisive. “Since when did you become so close to the York family?”

Lilia looked up at Victor and summoned her courage. “My lord, I have always followed you. I get close to whomever you get close to.”

Chapter 327: A Mind in Turmoil

Seeing Lilia’s aggrieved expression, Victor was at a loss for words.

Legally, Randell Fief was an independent fief of the Kingdom of Gambia, but independent fiefs often joined larger powers through political marriages based on geopolitical needs. It was a recognized fact that House of Randell belonged to the York family’s sphere of influence; their political, economic, and military ties were extremely close. Moreover, Victor was in direct control of the southern fortress and the water project’s construction. As the general manager of Randell Fief, Lilia frequently had to communicate with the York family’s stewards on matters of material supply and personnel allocation. It was inevitable that she would build personal relationships, and she shouldn’t be criticized for it.

The problem, ultimately, was Sylvia.

In a way, Sylvia was the first woman in Victor’s life, and she held a unique place in his heart. Sylvia was a Spirit Knight, one of the most powerful figures of the age, yet she never acted arrogantly toward Victor. Instead, she showed him the tenderness and consideration of a wife. Her beauty and wisdom, her power and bearing, all deeply captivated Victor and stirred within him a powerful desire to conquer her.

To some extent, Victor’s relentless drive was a way of showing off for Sylvia. But affection was one thing; it didn’t mean he was happy about her secretly manipulating Randell Fief. At the end of the day, their philosophies of governance were vastly different, especially on the matter of Sophia, where they were poles apart.

The War Bear Mercenaries were undoubtedly the political force Victor relied on most. If Lilia had been won over by Sylvia, it would be a complete disaster.

Victor felt a headache coming on. He chose his words carefully and asked, “Lilia, what is your relationship with Lady Uriel?”

“You could say Lady Uriel is my tutor.”

Lilia blinked and explained, “When I lived at Rose Manor, Lady Uriel taught me noble etiquette and heraldry, and even let me read the books in Rose Manor’s collection. Later, after I returned to Randell Fief, Lady Uriel and I continued to correspond. She is, after all, the Head handmaiden of Rose Manor…” Lilia glanced at Victor, a smile playing on her lips. “Lady Uriel has helped me a great deal.”

Victor had made many agreements with Sylvia, but their implementation depended on their subordinates. The York family was building three giant fortresses in the Centaur Hills simultaneously, which strained their resources. Whether the supplies sent to Randell Fief were a little more or a little less, on time or delayed, were all things that made Lilia worry herself sick. Lady Uriel’s station wasn’t high, but her invisible power was immense. A single word from her was often more effective than one from the Intendant, Anthony. With her help, Lilia’s work was indeed much easier.

“Lady Uriel has been very good to you?” Victor asked with a frown.

“Yes.” Lilia nodded. “When I first arrived at Rose Manor, the other handmaidens ostracized me. I knew they looked down on me. Later, Lady Uriel severely punished a few of the handmaidens who led the bullying. She admitted to me that she had deliberately used me to test the character of the handmaidens, and the results had greatly disappointed her. She told those handmaidens that any guest who entered Rose Manor, regardless of their status, must not be slighted, or they would be going against their master’s will and damaging her reputation. Then, Lady Uriel led all the handmaidens in apologizing to me.”

“That was the first lesson Lady Uriel taught me, and I will never forget it for the rest of my life. Even the canings she gave me later didn’t leave as deep an impression as that lesson.”

“Canings?!”

“Lady Uriel personally taught me how to be a noble’s personal handmaiden. She taught me how to walk, dance, sing, arrange flowers, tailor clothes, receive guests, write, keep accounts, test for poison, arrange picnics, banquets, and balls, care for children and the sick, how to maintain my skin, and also… little tricks to please you.”

Lilia’s face flushed red, her voice growing softer. Victor smiled faintly and gave her a light hug. Lilia raised a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and said, “Lady Uriel constantly watched me. If my posture or movements were even slightly off, her cane would fall. At night, she would apply healing potion to my wounds to ensure no scars remained.”

“In eight months, I completed all the subjects. Lady Uriel praised me for my intelligence and gifted me a formula for a beauty potion.” Lilia smiled, but then sighed. “I lost my mother when I was very young. Lady Uriel was like a mother to me, both warm and strict. The day I left Rose Manor, I hugged her and cried. Afterward, she continued to help me however she could.”

“This time, Lady Uriel wrote to me specifically, saying that Lady Sophia and her knights would be returning to the House of Randell. She urged me to be mindful of my duty as a personal handmaiden and work hard to earn Lady Sophia’s approval. She said it was crucial for both me and my brother.”

What a sweet, naive girl, Victor sighed inwardly.

A great lord like one from the York family was bound to have internal factions. The handmaidens of Rose Manor were all daughters from noble families, each with her own background. Only Lilia was without support. With a few skillful maneuvers, Lady Uriel had left a wonderfully deep impression on Lilia. It was like a leader cultivating a confidant; someone with a complicated background could never be as reliable as someone with simple connections. It was only natural for Lady Uriel to favor Lilia, and Lilia, in turn, would become an external asset for her.

At this point, it no longer mattered whether Lady Uriel’s influence on Lilia was at Sylvia’s instruction. It was a steward’s duty to help her master influence the family’s middle echelons; to fail to do so was a dereliction of duty. Lilia’s hand-picked maids were probably doing the same things for Elina’s chambermaids.

Lilia didn’t live in a vacuum. As his personal handmaiden, she was of course obedient to Victor, but as the general manager of the House of Randell, she needed her own circle of connections. In the process of learning and growing, it was inevitable that she would be influenced by the outside world.

But the values of the Knight-Nobles were completely incompatible with Victor’s Leasehold Employment System.

The thought that Lilia had read through Rose Manor’s entire library made Victor’s scalp tingle.

This won’t do! I have to correct this girl’s thinking!

Victor mused aloud, “What good will Sophia’s return to Randell Fief do you? Do you enjoy having to watch someone else’s mood?”

Lilia giggled. “With you to back me up, I’m not afraid. Besides, Lady Sophia will bring knights to the family.”

“Sophia’s knights are just a bunch of potion-made knights with no potential. In terms of strength, not a single one is a match for your brother. In terms of bloodline, Sylvia doesn’t think they’re worth a damn, and she has no place to put them… Otherwise, do you really think the York family would let them join Randell Fief?” Victor said dismissively.

“Potion-made or not, a knight is still a knight.” Lilia pouted, her eyes full of yearning. “Only with knights can the House of Randell be considered a true family.”

“Potion knights don’t have much skill, but they have plenty of airs,” Victor said, unimpressed. “If they join Randell Fief, they’ll just fight with Narsen for power and profit. With Sophia backing them, don’t expect them to be docile and obedient to you.”

“You, Narsen, the War Bear Mercenaries, Moline and the others—you all went through life and death with me to found the House of Randell. I don’t want anyone lording it over you!”

Lilia stared blankly at Victor, then reached out to touch his face, her voice soft. “My love, it’s been five years. You haven’t changed at all. Still so handsome… so young… no! You’re even younger, and more handsome. But I’ve changed.”

“Mm,” Victor nodded and smiled. “You’ve become more beautiful, more confident, more elegant. You’ve become a true noble lady.”

Lilia was twenty-three this year, in the prime of her life. Her skin was fair and smooth, her figure alluringly curved, her hair like a dark cloud, and her gaze like rippling water. A soft smile from her was a mix of mature charm and youthful vibrancy.

“My love, I was captivated the moment I first saw you. I never dreamed I would become your personal handmaiden. I love sitting in your lap like this; it’s the only way I know I’m not dreaming,” Lilia murmured, hugging Victor tightly for a long moment before saying sorrowfully, “In another two years, I won’t be able to sit on your lap anymore…”

A tremor went through Victor’s heart. He forced a smile. “Darling, you can always sit on my lap.”

Lilia let out a giggle, sticking out her tongue playfully. “When I’m thirty, I’ll be too embarrassed to sit in a teenager’s lap and act spoiled.”

The difference in their forms of life was an insurmountable chasm between a High-ranked Knight and an ordinary person. Silver-rank Knights could commune with the elements within and without, escaping the ravages of aging and illness, and could maintain a youthful appearance until the day their Soul Fire was extinguished. Nobles with elven bloodline had a natural affinity for wind and water elements and were known for their long lives, looking no older than forty even at the end of their lifespan. Victor had already communed with the void wind element. His life form was similar to that of a High-ranked Knight, and as his Moon Elf bloodline sublimated, he even showed signs of reverse aging, looking like a handsome sixteen-year-old youth. This had even caused Sylvia to revert to the appearance of a twenty-year-old. Her beauty was now unparalleled, surpassing even Sophia and Roland.

No matter how beautiful Lilia was, no matter how well she took care of herself, the day would come when she would grow old, as unstoppable as a flower blooming and then withering. When that time came, could they still walk side by side? And besides Lilia, there was Elina and Alice, and perhaps Judy as well…

Victor felt a tightness in his chest, a heavy weight in his heart. He couldn’t help but close his eyes.

“My love, to have received your affection, I am already very content.” Lilia pressed her ear to Victor’s chest, listening to her lover’s heartbeat. “But I have to consider my brother, and the War Bear Mercenaries.”

“Narsen?”

“Yes.” Lilia sat up straight and looked up at him. “My brother is truly strong. He can eat a lot and fight a lot. I have no idea how our parents made him like that. I heard Master Edwen say that my brother’s lifespan is also much longer than an ordinary person’s, but he won’t remain ageless like a High-ranked Knight. When he grows old, can the War Bear Mercenaries hold on to their current status?”

Victor opened his mouth, but no words came out. The succession of the old by the new was a law of nature, and a law of family development. Even a lord couldn’t change it. To go against the tide would only lead to the family’s decline.

Lilia continued, “Sister Linda once wanted my brother to marry a noble lady. Lady Uriel even found a female apprentice knight for him, but he refused.”

“I know about that. Narsen is a good man,” Victor said, nodding solemnly.

Narsen had refused a political marriage with the York family. Victor both admired his character and felt fortunate that his family could retain a force untainted by outside influence.

Lilia nodded and sighed. “My brother is a good man. We can only place our hopes in his children. While my brother still has his strength, perhaps his heir can marry into the lineage of one of Lady Sophia’s knights. Besides those potion knights, what other Knight-Noble would be willing to marry the heir of a common lordship? As for common nobles… a Silver-rank Bear of the Northlands has the right to negotiate a marriage with a Knight-Noble.”

“If the War Bear Mercenaries miss this opportunity, what talk can there be of fighting for power and profit? Knights should have your high regard in the first place. A marriage alliance between the War Bear Mercenaries and them is beneficial for your rule, and for the future of the War Bear Mercenaries within the House of Randell.”

“Did Lady Uriel tell you all this?”

“Yes. Lady Uriel guided me. I’m very grateful to her.”

I’m not grateful to her at all! Victor roared internally. But from the perspective of political gain, he had to admit that Lady Uriel and Lilia’s ideas were more in line with the War Bear Mercenaries’ political interests.

Victor looked at Lilia, who was clinging to him. A mischievous idea struck him, and he grinned. “That’s right, why don’t we just have a child?”

Lilia bit her lip, her eyes downcast. “My love, I said you shouldn’t get angry… Lady Uriel secretly told me that nobles with elven bloodline can only have children with ordinary people after they reach adulthood. You still have another thirty years to grow.”

Me! I’m not even an adult yet???

“Is a knight’s bloodline really that important?” Victor asked, his expression wooden.

“Yes.” Lilia nodded emphatically. “Isn’t everyone pursuing a knight’s bloodline? Even if not for themselves, who wouldn’t want their descendants to be noble and handsome, powerful beyond compare, and free from aging and disease?”

Those words struck Victor like a clap of thunder, like a flash of lightning in the night sky, instantly jolting him awake.

The political system of the human world had remained unchanged for thousands of years. Ordinary people had been exploited and oppressed by Knight-Nobles for millennia, yet there had never been a large-scale popular uprising. To Victor, this was utterly baffling. He had always thought that the commoners’ obedience to their lords was the result of the Church’s efforts, that thousands of years of ideological indoctrination had suppressed their potential. That was why Victor had created the Leasehold Employment System, in an attempt to fully utilize the power of mortals. But he had overlooked one fact.

On Earth, an emperor was not fundamentally different from a common person. Both were mortals of flesh and blood; there was no such thing as a noble bloodline. A single cry of “Are kings and generals born, not made?” could be the prelude to a new dynasty. But here, they truly were born to it.

That was extraordinary power—an open system of extraordinary power.

The Leasehold Employment System was also an open system. Not just the people of Randell Fief, but others could join it through the Golden Company. Capable individuals could gain wealth, land, power, and status, and they would do their utmost to maintain this system. They were Victor’s partisans, a powerful force in his hands. For example, the mountain folk hunters in the smuggling caravans—those who performed well could join Randell Fief, receive training and grooming, and either enter the army or take charge of a smuggling caravan.

But when a person had wealth, land, power, and status, what else would they pursue? Undoubtedly, it would be extraordinary power.

Both the Knight-Nobles and the Church could grant extraordinary power. When they beckoned to the members of the Leasehold Employment System, how many could refuse?

The Leasehold Employment System was fundamentally unworkable. Once it grew to a certain size, it would simply become a feast laid out on a platter for the vassalage system. The benefits Victor could reap were limited by the Alchemy Tower’s capacity. To exceed this limit was to simply do the hard work for other lords.

Knights possess extraordinary bloodlines. Perhaps I should recruit more knights? But wouldn’t that just be returning to the vassalage system? No! The vassalage system is a disorganized mess, too inefficient. It can’t even handle the beastmen. Only a centralized system can fully unleash the potential of mortals and deal with the changes to come. Have knights join my Leasehold Employment System? That won’t work either. What knight doesn’t want to be a lord? Does that mean I have to have more children… a few probably won’t be enough. I’d need dozens, at least.

Victor’s mind was a chaotic jumble of thoughts; not even his X-3 processor could help. Just then, the voice of a Personal Guard came from outside the door.

“My lord, Captain Narsen requests an audience.”

“Let him in.”

Just as Lilia was about to get up from Victor’s lap, she heard it was her brother and sat right back down, refusing to let go of Victor.

“My lord, a messenger from the York family brought a list—the list of nobles who will be observing the military tournament.” Narsen ignored his sister and said excitedly, “My lord, when do we leave?”

“What’s so interesting about a military tournament? I’m not going!” Victor waved his hand impatiently.

Narsen scratched his head. “But, I really want to go!”

“Then go by yourself. And while you’re at it, take the York family’s Swiftbird mounts to Goldwater City. Lady Sylvia needs them. But don’t be in such a rush to leave! Give me the list.”

Narsen tossed down the parchment letter and ran off like a wisp of smoke.

Victor opened the letter. When he saw the contents, his pupils contracted. He stroked his chin and muttered to himself, “Grand Duke Williams… His Highness Roland is coming, and he’s bringing the Glory Knights? And the Joshua family from Deepwater City… all five great houses and the royal family will be there. How lively.”

“My love, are you really not going? I hear many important people will be observing the tournament. Wouldn’t it be too impolite of you not to go?” Lilia offered her counsel.

If I go, where would I even sit? Next to that fatso Enbise is Lady Katerina. If I sit with Sophia, Sylvia won’t be happy. If I sit with Sylvia, I won’t be happy. If I sit with Nicole, both Gillian and Judy will be upset. A wave of disgust washed over Victor. He scoffed.

“Do you really think those bigwigs are coming to watch a military tournament? They’re coming for the barbarians and the port. I can just wait for them here in Randell Fief.”

Chapter 328: Guests from Afar

As the sky was just beginning to brighten, a vast and mighty procession appeared on the road to Goldwater City.

At the head of the procession were two columns of war beast cavalry, two hundred strong in total, all composed of proud Knights. Most of them wore Adamantine scale armor and wielded refined iron war lances. The foot-long spearheads glinted with a cold, purplish-gold light—the unique luster of Adamantine. On their backs, they carried round shields rimmed with refined iron, and a sheathed longsword was thrust horizontally across their shoulders—no doubt an extraordinary weapon as well. The war beasts they rode were as large as a rhinoceros, their gray, horny skin as dull as iron. On their crocodile-like heads grew four eyes: two on the front with pupils like those of a lion or tiger, and two on the sides, the size of a bull’s eyes. The war beasts had six legs under their bellies. From knee to claw, their legs were wrapped in hardened leather armor, while their vital points—the knee joints, flanks, and neck—were protected by refined iron scale armor.

On both sides of the war beast’s saddle were hung a heavy crossbow, a yew composite bow, twenty quivers of arrows and crossbow bolts, and five refined iron javelins. Including the rider and armor, each war beast carried nearly one thousand pounds of weight. Their ghastly blue, forked tongues would occasionally flick out from their fanged, bloody maws, yet they moved with effortless ease.

The Knights held five banners aloft: one gold, four silver. Embroidered on the banners were the Crested Long-tailed Kites, symbolizing the Auguste family, and on the other side, an armored knight holding a longsword vertically with both hands, symbolizing glory.

The Glory Knights were founded by Princess Royal Roland Auguste. At a time when the Swift Dragon Knights had suffered a major setback, they turned the tide, defeating the Randt Empire’s Unicorn Knights and becoming a pillar of strength for the Kingdom of Gambia in one fell swoop. With the support of Marquess Golan, the Glory Knights were reorganized and expanded. They currently possess one Gold Knight and ten Silver Knights. Each Silver Knight holds a banner, commanding four Knights and fifty apprentice knights, and every Knight is equipped with a Swift Dragon war beast.

Although most of the Glory Knights’ apprentice knights had their Bloodlines awakened using cleansing potions, they had experienced real combat. Their wills were firm, their martial skills refined, and their courage tenacious—they were far beyond what ordinary apprentice knights could compare to. Paired with the powerful and ferocious Swift Dragon war beasts, even a full-fledged Knight would have to think twice before facing them.

Here, there were four silver banners representing four Silver Knights, sixteen Knights, and two hundred apprentice knights. Although they numbered less than half of the full Glory Knights, the golden banner signified that Roland herself was present.

As long as Roland was present, they were the Glory Knights.

Following the Glory Knights was a group of tall and burly barbarians. They were generally over seven feet tall, with their muscular, sinewy upper bodies bare. Even the women only wrapped their chests in animal hides, revealing equally lean muscles and mottled scars. Their coarse faces were tattooed, and they carried enormous, heavy weapons on their backs. A dozen or so “short ones,” less than two meters tall with youthful faces, each pulled a huge carriage, keeping pace with the procession. The wheels left deep ruts in the packed-earth road, yet their speed was no slower than the vanguard’s.

The barbarians of Arreat were wild and fierce, yet as tough as rock.

Two hundred Sacred Warrior cavalry followed the barbarians. They wore tough rhinoceros-hide armor, with the insignia of a third-level Sacred Warrior carved on their shoulders, and rode Horned Wolf war beasts.

These giant, twin-horned wolves were comparable in size to warhorses and were the most intelligent of all aberrant war beasts. Their physique and killing power might not match that of a Swift Dragon, but their excellent coordinated combat abilities made them the most stable and outstanding of war beasts.

Behind the Horned Wolf cavalry were eight hundred second-level Sacred Warriors. Their gazes were heavy, their bearing grim. They rode strong warhorses, holding spears, with triangular shields on their backs and heavy flails laid horizontally before their saddles. Even an apprentice knight could not wield such a powerful close-combat weapon without arduous training.

At the rear of the procession was a long train of cargo carriages, flying the banner of the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild. The train stretched for several kilometers, numbering as many as six hundred wagons.

The road was wide, and apart from the convoy, no other travelers could be seen. The outpost guards of the York family had long since diverted all other traffic from this main road. Both sides of the road were lined with a row of straight Hemlock trees. They didn’t look very old, but the spacing between them was nearly uniform, creating a very neat appearance. Beyond the roadbed, the wheat fields were a vibrant green, their growth pleasing to the eye. Verdant, rolling hills stood in the distance, and the outlines of villages could be faintly seen at their base.

Roland surveyed the scenery of the Centaur Hills with great interest. When her eyes, as beautiful as a jade lake, fell upon an old barbarian, her gaze shifted, and a cunning smile touched the corners of her lips. She spurred her unicorn mount forward.

The unicorns of the Randt Empire were shaped like a cross between a lion and a tiger. A horn like a short sword protruded from their foreheads, and their golden fur was glossy and smooth. They were majestic, and in terms of appearance, they were countless times more impressive than the Swift Dragons. It moved its four limbs, carrying Princess Royal Roland, and in just a few steps, it came alongside the barbarian elder.

“Uncle Harald, the master of this land is one of the three Pinnacle Knights of humanity, and perhaps the strongest Gold Knight… Hmm, I haven’t met that old geezer Nachtigal, but I’m sure she’s stronger than that barbarian.” Her platinum-blonde hair scattered in the wind as Roland spoke in fluent barbarian tongue.

“That barbarian?” The barbarian elder continued to walk forward, step by step. His command of the human common tongue was somewhat stiff.

“The one you’ve met, Neowist. Emperor of the Randt Empire, Legendary Knight, Ferocious Warrior, and a half-barbarian to boot.” Roland said through gritted teeth, her small, snow-white hands tugging fiercely at her unicorn’s mane.

“My lady, you humans are strange.” Harald gathered his thoughts to speak in the common tongue, speaking slowly. “You divide strength into Silver-rank, Gold rank, and Legendary-rank. How can strength be divided? The victor gains glory, the loser finds rest. A strong earth dragon can die from a wind serpent’s venom, a young barbarian can kill a wind serpent with a throwing axe, and a frenzied earth dragon can bite even a barbarian legendary hero to death. I do not understand what strength has to do with rank.”

“Human ranks are for displaying identity and status.”

Sophia, riding a Swift Dragon, spoke from the side. Her amethyst eyes darted a glance at Roland’s unicorn, which had originally been her mount.

“It is also for the sake of Order, and for treatment befitting one’s status.”

Grand Duke Williams drew closer and said with a smile, “Gold rank is equivalent to the status of a Duke, and Legendary-rank is equal to His Majesty the King. Elder Harald, by our human standards, you are a king.”

“Isn’t a king the sole leader of a great human tribe?” Harald shook his head in confusion. “My tribe has two legendary heroes… I am not a king. The barbarians have no king.”

Williams’s eyes lit up, and he was just pondering how to continue probing. Roland couldn’t care less about this. She glared indignantly at her uncle and pulled the topic back. “Uncle Harald, you’ve met Neowist. What do you think of his combat strength?”

“I don’t know.”

Harald said slowly, “How to put it in your human words? We did not fight, but I could not hold back my strength in his presence.”

Could not hold back his strength? That meant he would have to use his full power.

Roland tilted her head, studying the barbarian elder carefully, trying to gauge whether she herself could force a Legendary barbarian to go all out.

“Uncle Harald, what about me? Can I defeat Neowist?”

Barbarian Berserkers possess a keen combat intuition. Roland believed that asking Elder Harald directly would yield a more accurate answer.

Harald glanced at Roland. “You can kill him.”

“Uncle, that’s the same as saying nothing at all.”

Roland slumped over the unicorn’s back, grumbling listlessly. There was no creature a Gold Knight couldn’t kill, but killing and defeating were completely different concepts. Just as a Silver Knight could slay Harald, in a real fight, the Legendary barbarian would completely crush a Silver Knight.

Grand Duke Williams smiled faintly. Roland’s temperament was exactly like her ancestor’s—forthright and innocent, with a charm that could captivate hearts with her every move. But the Auguste family was now the royal family, and he had to bear the family’s heavy burdens.

Just as Williams was racking his brains for a way to continue probing, Harald suddenly stopped. His eyes were fixed on the road ahead. His rock-like body swelled at a visible rate, making him a full size larger in an instant. A wild and fierce aura emanated from him, agitating the surrounding aberrant war beasts.

Frenzy?

A thought flashed through Williams’s mind.

“Sylvia is here.”

Roland had already sat up straight and spurred her unicorn forward. “Hold your positions! Clear the way!” The Glory Knights quickly guided their Swift Dragons to the sides, opening a path for their commander.

Harald paused for a moment, then strode off in pursuit of Roland’s unicorn. The solid ground beneath his feet fractured in a spiderweb pattern. Three imposing figures followed closely behind him. Williams noticed that Harald had not drawn his battleaxe, nor had the three Gold-rank Berserkers entered a Frenzy.

“To focus her spiritual pressure on Harald alone from such a great distance, without showing any enmity… only Sylvia is capable of that.”

Pontiff Clement ambled over on his Horned Wolf, a relaxed smile on the Legendary priest’s face. If no one could make a Legendary Berserker feel pressure, it would be quite disheartening for humanity.

“Her Highness Sylvia has come to welcome us. We mustn’t keep our host waiting.”

Pontiff Clement urged his Horned Wolf forward. The Legendary Sacred Warrior Tournans, sixth-level Sacred Warrior Wallace, fifth-level battle priest Kent, fifth-level priest Bishop Pello, and eighteen Adjudicators protected him on all sides. Grand Duke Williams also beckoned two Great Knights to follow. As for Sophia and the four Great Knights of the Glory Knights, they had already chased after Roland and left the main procession.

Seven hundred meters from the procession, the group saw five enormous, ground-running raptors approaching. The lead ground-running bird was even larger than the others. Its aquamarine feathers shimmered like exquisite silk in the morning light. Its beak was like a great axe, its claws like curved hooks. It carried itself with pride and was exceptionally majestic.

A female knight with a graceful figure sat astride the blue Swiftbird. Her red hair was like flowing fire, and deep within her bright eyes seemed to be a surging, endless sea of molten lava, making it impossible to look at her directly. Williams glanced at her only once before looking away. Although Sylvia’s power wasn’t directed at him, observing the reflection of the fiery Elemental Sea too early would interfere with his own will, creating feelings of fear or fascination for the Elemental Sea.

The barbarian elder clenched his fists, his expression desolate and resolute. His aura climbed steadily, as if he were a great mountain straddling the earth, or a wild, savage beast of the primordial wilderness. The three Urus did not understand why their elder was being so solemn and all entered a state of Frenzy. Harald raised his left hand, and the Gold-rank Berserkers each deactivated their Frenzy.

Williams understood then that a Weapon Master with the Frenzy talent who could control it at will could be considered a Gold-rank Berserker, then he heard Harald speak in his stiff common tongue: “The peaks of the mountains greet you, Son of Taelon.”

“I am Sylvia, a Spirit Knight, Guardian of the York family, and a lord of the Kingdom of Gambia. Powerful barbarian warrior, what is it you seek from me?” Sylvia’s voice was scorching and majestic, like that of a lofty divine being.

“A piece of land large enough for my people to dwell, preferably mountainous, with sufficient game and water.”

“As you wish, esteemed barbarian elder. But please, have your people refrain from harming my subjects. If any of my subjects dare to offend the honor of the barbarians, they will lose my protection.”

“Agreed.” Harald nodded. “I swear on the Holy Mountain that my people will not actively harm humans. Should any violate this oath, they will lose the honor of the Children of the High Mountain and become an exile.”

“The Centaur Hills welcomes the visit of the Children of the High Mountain.”

Sylvia leaped down from her Swiftbird. Her fiery red hair turned a sun-like gold, and her eyes became a pure, azure blue. The Spirit Knight transformed into a peerlessly beautiful and radiant woman.

“Elder Harald, I didn’t expect you to speak the common tongue so well. You just called me ‘Son of Taelon,’ didn’t you? Could you tell me what that means?” Sylvia asked with a smile.

Harald remained silent, organizing his words. Roland jumped in front of Sylvia and said, “Taelon is what the barbarians call the Elemental Sea… Also, it took Uncle Harald over two years to learn the common tongue, but it only took me, Roland, two months to learn the barbarian language. What do you think, Sylvia? Am I not sharp as a tack?” Roland put on a smug expression that begged for praise, but her eyes were fixed on the blue Swiftbird. “What a majestic bird… prettier than those two stupid birds I have at home. Let me pet it…”

The blue Swiftbird let out a “coo-coo” of warning. Seeing that this creature who resembled its master had no intention of backing down, its giant, axe-like beak pecked swiftly at the outstretched, jade-like hand.

Roland’s hand was elegantly shaped, her fingers slender and delicate, looking soft enough to squeeze water from. Yet this small, snow-white hand gently clamped onto the sharp beak. No matter how the Swiftbird thrashed its head, it couldn’t break free. Roland used her other hand to unabashedly stroke the blue Swiftbird’s glossy, smooth neck feathers. The blue Swiftbird wanted very much to kick her with its powerful claws, but it just stumbled and couldn’t keep its balance.

“Sylvia, give it to me, won’t you? I’ll trade you my unicorn for it.”

“Hercules is probably the only dire Swiftbird in the Centaur Hills. He led a flock of Swiftbirds to occupy a Purple Cane forest. I caught him myself and spent five months taming him. The fellow has a violent temper. Besides Victor and me, he doesn’t let anyone ride him.”

“Even though he’s not of much practical use, he is, after all, a large dire animal, much stronger than a unicorn.” Sylvia said coolly, “Roland, don’t even think I’ll give Hercules to you.”

“Stingy.”

Roland pouted. Spotting the leather armor Sylvia was wearing, her eyes lit up. She let go of the dazed Hercules and took Sylvia’s arm, complimenting her, “Sylvia, you’ve gotten prettier! And younger, too! It must be because of love! Is that Dragon-Lizard leather armor you’re wearing made from the hide of that behemoth Itugos?”

“Roland, I’ve always been young!” Sylvia retorted huffily.

Sylvia had always given off an impression of mature beauty and noble grace, but now she looked no older than twenty. In the past, she would have simply ignored Roland’s attempts to get close, certainly never bickering with her. This change in her both physically and mentally left Williams feeling a bit out of his element. He thought for a moment and decided not to address her as ‘My Lady’. “Your Highness Sylvia, may your martial fortune prosper and your beauty last forever.”

Sylvia led the Great Knights of the York family in performing a Knight’s salute to Williams. “Grand Duke Williams, good day.”

“Sylvia, it’s been a long time.”

Clement and the high-ranking clergy came forward. Sylvia curtsied and said, “Your Holiness the Pontiff, good day. Your arrival is an honor for the York family.” As she spoke, she nodded to the high-ranking clergy. Only Tournans spoke, saying, “May the supreme Lord of Radiance guide your path.” His solemn tone was just like an Archbishop’s.

Both oddballs have arrived.

Sylvia ignored the bald Sacred Warrior and turned her gaze to Sophia, opening her arms with a beautiful smile. “My dear cousin Sophia, I am so glad to see you safe and sound, and as beautiful as ever.”

“I’m very glad, too, Cousin Sylvia.” Sophia tossed her purple hair and gently embraced Sylvia. In that moment, all the anxiety and pressure in her heart vanished, leaving only calm and warmth.

Roland crossed one arm and propped her chin on her other hand, watching the two peerless beauties embrace affectionately. She secretly plotted that when she saw Victor, she absolutely had to beat them both to it, hug their man, and say: My dear little Victor, your Tutor is so happy to see you.

Yes, that’s exactly what I’ll do. It’ll make them furious! Serves you right for being so stingy.

Sylvia, of course, had no idea that Roland was brewing a revenge plot in her heart. She released Sophia and said to Harald, “We have set up a comfortable camp ahead, prepared with a sumptuous feast and fine wine for our guests who have traveled from afar to rest and enjoy.”

“Is it Purple Cane wine?” Harald asked.

“Of course. A full eight hundred barrels of Purple Cane wine.” Sylvia nodded with a smile.

Harald turned and said something in the barbarian tongue. The three Urus shouted a few words back toward the convoy, and deafening cheers erupted from the barbarians in the train.

The stalled procession began to move again, lances like a forest, hooves like thunder, like a river of steel surging forward.

Chapter 329: Worthy

The barbarians’ temporary encampment was actually a stretch of flat land with no fences, barracks, or even crude shanties for shelter. The open ground was dotted with over a hundred wooden sheds to protect from the rain, inside which were piled dry firewood, barrels of Purple Cane wine, and slaughtered livestock and vegetables.

The Children of the High Mountain were accustomed to a hard life of sleeping in the open and enduring the elements. In their view, tents were for infants, pregnant women, and the sick and injured; a powerful barbarian never shied away from the trials of nature. Although the conditions of the temporary settlement were crude, as long as there was wine and meat, it was the best of camps.

Two kilometers from the barbarian camp, the York family had built a separate military camp. The camp was fortified with fences, moats, and arrow towers, and its internal facilities were fully equipped. Five hundred elite Tusk Soldiers were already in position, followed by two thousand cavalry retainers from the Glory Knights. With the addition of one thousand elite Sacred Warriors, the total force garrisoned in the camp would exceed three thousand five hundred men. As for the two hundred Glory Knights, they were Knight-Nobles and would naturally rest and recuperate within Goldwater City.

The barbarians’ visit was of great significance. A warm reception was one thing, but necessary precautions were just as indispensable. In truth, barbarians were not easy to deal with. When angry, they would punch the other person in the chest, and a brawl would break out. When happy, they would punch the other person in the chest, and after a few more punches, a brawl would break out. For humans, this was rather difficult to handle.

The barbarians didn’t know their own strength, but human warriors had their pride. The only solution was to keep their distance. Fortunately, the men from the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild were tactful and familiar with the barbarians’ temperament. With them mediating and communicating between the parties, no major incidents had occurred.

Thus, the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild was tasked with entertaining the barbarians, while the level-five battle priest Kent and the level-six Sacred Warrior Wallace commanded three thousand elite troops, enough to handle any unforeseen circumstances.

With the support of a contingent of battle priests, the increase in the human army’s combat effectiveness was far more than simple addition.

After settling the barbarians, Sylvia, accompanied by Sophia, invited Pope Clement, Tournans, Bishop Pello, Princess Roland, Grand Duke Williams, and the Glory Knights to Goldwater City.

After crossing the Goldwater River, the party saw the towering Black Fortress. Enbise York, dressed in magnificent ducal ceremonial robes, was already waiting outside the city with the upper echelons of the York family.

“Your Holiness, your visit is the greatest honor for the York family! I, the Supreme Lord’s most devout believer, Enbise York, offer you my most崇高敬意!”

Duke York trotted before the Pope and knelt on one knee, his attitude bordering on sycophantic. Clement raised his Mithril scepter and touched it to the Duke’s shoulder, solemnly intoning, “May our Lord bless you, Your Excellency Enbise.” Duke York’s fat face broke into a smile so wide his eyes disappeared.

The clergy would not put on airs before a High-ranked Knight, but they held a natural advantage over ordinary nobles. Common folk always had their aches and pains, and what’s more, a level-five priest possessed the divine art of Life Extension.

“Child, may our Lord guide your way.” Tournans walked up to Duke York, his face a mask of solemn divinity.

Duke York rolled his eyes inwardly. What’s a Sacred Warrior like you getting involved for? Why don’t you try casting a healing spell for me to see?

Just as Duke York was about to greet Roland and Grand Duke Williams, the eldest princess of Gambis leaped off her unicorn, bypassed the Duke, and took a female knight’s hand, chirping happily, “Katerina! We finally meet. Are you doing well with the York family? Has this fatso been bullying you? I heard you had another daughter. Take me to see her, quick! I brought her a gift… Hey, you’ve been promoted to Great Knight?!”

The female knight had a rare head of blue hair. Her features were refined and charming, and her bearing was gentle and graceful. She smiled and said, “Your Highness, you are as… enthusiastic as ever. But I can’t be rude… Please let me go… fine. Roland Auguste, if you make me commit a faux pas, don’t even think about getting the gift I prepared for you.”

“A gift?”

Roland immediately released Katerina’s hand and eyed the Dragon-Lizard leather armor she was wearing, pressing, “My dear Katerina, is the gift you prepared for me a suit of Itugos leather armor?” Seeing Katerina nod, her face wreathed in smiles as she planted a kiss on her close friend’s cheek. “Darling, I knew you wouldn’t forget to save one for me!”

Katerina momentarily escaped Roland’s clutches and curtsied to Grand Duke Williams. “Katerina York greets Your Highness. May your martial fortunes flourish.”

“Lady York, there is no need for such formalities.”

Williams paused, then said in a warm tone, “Katerina, congratulations on stepping into the Silver realm and achieving the extraordinary.” The York family had gained another High-ranked Knight, and his feelings were somewhat complicated.

“Alright, alright. I can’t wait to try on my Giant Aberration hide armor.” Roland linked arms with Katerina and chattered as they walked, “My dear sister, did you receive my secret letter? It has my latest body measurements. It would be a disaster if you made the armor according to my old size… I must declare, I haven’t gotten fatter at all! My waist measurement hasn’t changed…”

“Roland! Must we discuss such private matters here?” Katerina discreetly squeezed Roland’s hand and whispered in a tiny voice.

“It’s fine, my voice is very low, they can’t hear.” Roland whispered into Katerina’s ear, “My sister, I’m still no match for Sylvia, but my student has already avenged you… Little Victor is my student, and he’s become Sylvia’s man. According to etiquette, Sylvia has to address you as Lady Katerina… Of course, you should just keep this to yourself.”

Katerina: “…”

Sylvia remained expressionless, turning her head slightly to glance behind her and to the left. The bald Sacred Warrior’s pricked-up ears immediately flattened back to their normal position.

“Oh! My heavens…”

Walking across the drawbridge, Roland stopped in her tracks and gasped, “Is this the Giant Aberration Itugos? It’s breathtaking!”

In the square before the Black Fortress’s gate stood two thick, ten-meter-high logs. Atop each log was mounted an enormous Dragon-Lizard head. Perhaps they weren’t Dragon-Lizards, for they were simply too large, even a size or two bigger than the body of a normal Dragon-Lizard. Their blue-black scales had a metallic sheen, and four bone spurs over a meter long grew from their foreheads to their necks, resembling dragon horns. Hundreds of tusks protruded from their clenched jaws, and face-sized citrines were embedded in their sockets as eyes. Even long after death, they exuded a terrifyingly ferocious aura that made one’s heart palpitate.

“The heads of the Giant Aberration Itugos. The common folk like to call them Itus and Gostus, respectively.”

At some point, the Glory Knights had formed a fan-shaped perimeter before the wooden pillars. Duke York announced proudly, “Itus weighs 4407 pounds, and Gostus weighs 4320 pounds. Turning them into mounted trophies was a great deal of work for the craftsmen. The number of nobles coming to see them has been endless, crowding the North Gate square so much that it was impassable. If I hadn’t issued a decree in advance, I would have had to welcome you all at the East Gate.”

Roland circled the logs several times, unable to resist saying, “Sylvia, I want to go up and take a look.”

“As you wish, Roland.” Sylvia smiled and nodded.

The words had barely left her lips when Roland leaped more than ten meters high. A green brilliance emerged from her body as she landed lightly on Itus’s head. Gripping a straight bone spur, she struck several poses, her beautiful face filled with an expression of intoxicated yearning. Only after a good while did she jump down.

“Sylvia, how many sword strikes did it take you to slay this Dragon Beast?”

“The Giant Aberration’s instincts outweigh its intelligence. Subduing it wasn’t difficult. I severed their cervical vertebrae with two strikes,” Sylvia stated calmly.

“Just as I thought.” Roland nodded, then said fretfully, “I wonder if I’ll ever encounter a beast of the same level. Sylvia, I’m so envious of you.”

Tournans said solemnly, “It may not have been difficult for Her Highness Sylvia to subdue the Giant Aberration, but the risk she undertook was immense! Everyone, please remember that.”

Whether Itugos possessed intelligence or not, its sheer size and strength would have an overwhelming effect on any human. A single direct hit would be unsurvivable, not to mention it also possessed extraordinary talents. The hearts of the Glory Knights and high-ranked Sacred Warriors shuddered. Looking at the heads of Itugos now, they felt a heavy sense of pressure.

Grand Duke Williams smiled faintly and said in a loud voice, “We may not have the strength and talent to match monsters, but the supreme Lord of Radiance has gifted us with the creed of protection and salvation. Wisdom, courage, perseverance, unity, and all other valuable qualities are the source of our strength. We bear our burdens and advance without fear. Even true Dragons can be slain!”

“Praise the Supreme Lord for showing us the way and saving us from confusion.”

Pope Clement stepped forward and said, “Itugos was not a true Dragon, but had it been allowed to continue feeding on flesh and blood, this Draconic Aberration would have become a nightmare for all living beings, including the people living in the Centaur Hills. Congratulations, Knight Sylvia. Your great deed of exterminating the Dragon Beast will surely be remembered by history. You are worthy of the title Dragon-slayer.”

“It was the Supreme Lord’s guidance, and it is my honor.”

Sylvia drew her sword and knelt on one knee. The Mithril scepter in Clement’s hand shone with a platinum-gold light as he touched it lightly to Sylvia’s shoulder. The knights and clergy present cheered loudly, “Dragon-slayer! Dragon-slayer! Dragon-slayer!”

“Wow, a Dragon-slayer! I want to be one too…” Roland’s eyes sparkled, filled with envy.

“Your Highness, it’s time to go.”

Seeing the Glory Knights standing still, Katerina quickly pulled Roland towards the Black Fortress’s gate. Tournans trailed slowly behind. Bishop Pello sidled up to his ear and whispered, “A bishop must be reserved. You can climb up later when no one’s around.”

Tournans’s expression straightened, and he followed Clement with his eyes fixed ahead, as if in deep meditation.

After passing through the Black Fortress and entering Goldwater City, Sylvia turned and said apologetically, “My cousin and I have not seen each other for a long time and have much to talk about, so I will not accompany you all. I will be hosting an Evening Banquet at Rose Manor tonight to receive all of you.”

“I am weary from the journey. I will go to the Church to rest first.” Clement nodded, then instructed, “Pello, you go with His Highness Williams and Duke York to discuss the matter of the barbarians taking up residence in Raven Town.”

“As you command, Your Holiness,” Pello said with a bow.

The group then parted ways. As for Roland and Katerina, they had long since vanished.

As Sophia was about to board her carriage, Grand Duke Williams walked over and asked, “Sophia, the barbarians are guests you invited. Please tell me, are you settling the barbarians in Raven Town in your capacity as Marchioness Wimbledon, or as the Viscount’s wife of Randell?”

Sophia’s brows furrowed slightly. She glanced at Sylvia but received no hint. After a moment of contemplation, she said, “Raven Town is the territory of the House of Randell. I am inviting the barbarians as guests in my capacity as the Viscount’s wife of Randell.”

Watching the carriage depart, Grand Duke Williams murmured to himself, “This is for the best. That fellow Friedrich won’t have to lose any sleep over this.” With that, he walked towards Duke York and Bishop Pello.

At Rose Manor, attended by her handmaiden, Sophia removed her leather armor. Dressed only in a thin silk undergarment, she walked barefoot into Sylvia’s bedroom and threw herself heavily onto the Manticore-hide sofa, groaning, “So comfortable…”

Seeing Sophia’s alluring and bewitching appearance, Sylvia took a sip of coffee and teased, “What a siren. Even I’m moved. No wonder Victor can’t stop thinking about you.”

“There’s not even a single male attendant in the inner courtyard of Rose Manor now. It seems you truly care about Victor.” Sophia opened her eyes and chuckled. “Little Victor gets very jealous, you know.”

“Nobles with elven bloodline are not High-ranked Knights, so they aren’t influenced by the Elemental Sea. Just like ordinary men, they have a strong possessiveness over their partners. Sword Saint Draven was no exception, to say nothing of Victor.” Sylvia smiled faintly. “I am merely emulating the Iron Mountain Queen.”

Sophia struggled to sit up, surprised. “But… it seems you’ve actually fallen in love with him.”

“To receive, one must first give. Only a true heart can win a true heart. Besides, love itself is a wonderful pleasure. But beyond love, there are also other pursuits.” Saying this, Sylvia shot a wary glance at Sophia. “Victor belongs to me now. Don’t even think about taking him back.”

Sophia rolled her eyes, saying dejectedly, “I never try to take back a gift I’ve given. Although, I do regret it… If I had known he would forsake Catherine, I should have held on to him tightly and secretly controlled the merchant association. Then I wouldn’t have had a complete falling out with Catherine. Now, it’s too late to say anything. He must hate my guts.”

“It’s not too late!”

Sylvia sat down on the edge of the sofa, her slender, jade-like fingers sliding across Sophia’s fair, long legs as she smiled beguilingly. “I can give you to Victor. With your beauty, it would be effortless to charm him.”

Sophia’s expression flickered, but she said, still unwilling to yield, “Being a viscount’s wife is not the life I want.”

“Then what kind of life do you want?”

“I…”

“My dear, you don’t know what you want. You are confused about your future, and this is related to your Path to the pinnacle. Fortunately, you have plenty of time to think it over slowly. I will provide you with the necessary guidance.”

Sylvia raised a hand and brushed the hair from Sophia’s face. “Let’s talk about the barbarians first.”

Sophia sighed. “I know what you want to ask. Receiving the commission from the mountain tribes was purely by chance. Over a year ago, I escorted Gelan back to the Teutonic Duchy…” She explained the entire sequence of events to Sylvia in detail, finally sighing, “I don’t know why things turned out this way.”

“The Ephesus family is finished. Queen Elayanuo promised me the rank of Earl, Neowist personally tried to recruit me and even gave me a unicorn—the one that Roland has commandeered. Catherine said she would let bygones be bygones and even offered a veiled apology. Almost everyone is showing me goodwill, yet when they move against my merchant association, they show no mercy. Freemen merchants everywhere are betraying the Stag Merchants’ Guild. If this continues, it won’t be another year before the stewards of the guild leave me too.”

Sylvia listened quietly. When Sophia had finished, she asked, “Among these barbarians, there are forty more women than men. Almost every male has a partner. This is clearly in preparation for migration and procreation. You’ve spent nearly two years with them. Can you really not know their true purpose?”

“Elder Harald didn’t hide it.”

Sophia nodded. “According to him, they’re heading to the Southern Continent to find a sacred artifact. The mission won’t be considered complete until they find it, no matter how long it takes. Of course, these barbarians aren’t willing to leave the Holy Mountain. In reality, they were forced to.”

Sophia pursed her lips. “Harald lost a fight, and so did the other barbarians… In short, they want to hang around for twenty years before returning to the Holy Mountain. Arreat will then send others to carry out this task. Of course, what happens after that has nothing to do with me.”

Sylvia shook her head and sighed. “Even Harald lost… The barbarians are truly strong. But have you ever thought about it? You’re wandering around with a Urus barbarian who’s stronger than a Gold Knight. How do you think the lords will react? Are you doing business, or are you threatening others into doing business with you? Even if you have no such intention, your subordinates are bound to become arrogant. Am I not the best example? I made no statement, yet the lords of the York family frightened the Joshua family half to death, which indirectly caused the conflict between Ryan and me.”

Sophia was silent for a long time before smiling bitterly. “I couldn’t give up this golden opportunity. If I had to choose again, I would still accept the barbarians’ commission.”

“Of course you couldn’t! Anyone who gave it up would be a fool.”

Sylvia smiled and explained, “If you didn’t take it, someone else would have. Therefore, the barbarian commission was not a coincidence, but an inevitability.”

“In the most glorious era of the Chosen, humans allied with the elves and the barbarians. Now, the elves have departed, the northern barbarians are extinct, and humanity cannot stand alone. The beastmen have us pressed so hard we can barely breathe. We need allies. And trade is the best way to open diplomatic channels. Why else would the Sasan Empire allow the various caravans to trade with the foothill tribes, if not to form an alliance with Arreat? With such a prize falling into your lap, of course the major powers would show you favor.”

“Your neutrality makes things difficult for everyone. On the surface, everyone will maintain their previous attitude toward you, but behind the scenes, they must force you to make a choice. In other words, we all have to actively vie for you, which means we can’t let you waver.”

Sylvia smiled and said, “If you were to pledge allegiance to another power, you would receive an Earldom at the very least. The terms I offer cannot compare to theirs. It’s not that I lack land, but to me, the barbarians are far less important than Victor. You can only be the Viscount’s wife of Randell. If you choose me, aside from helping me build a port, your children with Victor must marry Katerina’s children. In return, you can share Victor with me.”

“My dear, you must consider it carefully. I will not force you.”

Sylvia said this with a broad smile. Sophia glanced at her sideways. “It’s not just you, is it?”

“And what if it’s not? Victor might become the next Sword Saint,” Sylvia said nonchalantly. “His Bloodline is now no different from a Gold Knight’s. Isn’t it normal for him to have a few partners?”

Sophia stared at Sylvia for a long moment, then burst out laughing. “My dear Cousin, this is what I like most about you. You always lay things out in the open, unlike others who resort to threats and inducements, all veiled and hidden.”

“I have the confidence to do so,” Sylvia said with a small smile.

“I need time to think,” Sophia said apologetically. “I’m not willing to give up the merchant association just like that.”

“My dear, you can take your time.” Sylvia nodded, then added, “While you are in the Randell Fief, if Nicole offends you in any way, please don’t take it to heart. Victor is a beacon for her to advance. In fact, Nicole often glares daggers at me. It’s truly exasperating.”

“What’s a beacon?” Sophia asked curiously.

Sylvia gave her a deep look and said, “A lighthouse for returning to the mortal world from the Elemental Sea. In other words, the Path of the Knight.”

“You think Nicole will become a Gold Knight?” Sophia was utterly stunned. “How is that possible? She uses love as her beacon!”

“Not love, but protection,” Sylvia said, shaking her head. “Nicole was spurred on by Victor during her Trial of Life and Death and made protecting Victor her creed. It’s just that she hasn’t realized it herself yet and simply thinks it’s love.”

“You are the same!” Sylvia guided her patiently. “Think carefully. When you faced the sabertooth tigers, what was the conviction you held onto?”

Sophia murmured, “I understand. I wanted to protect my companions, to protect my Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild. That’s why I absolutely could not admit defeat!”

“There is no path forward. Will you lead the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild off a cliff?” Sylvia asked coolly.

“No… I can’t do that.”

“Then what do you plan to do?”

Sophia took a deep breath, panting slightly. “Turn back, find another way. Convert the merchant guild into a family. That’s your suggestion, isn’t it?”

“Nicole’s love, your Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild… they are all manifestations of ‘protection’. Only when you deeply understand the principle within can you establish your own beacon and step into the pinnacle realm.” Sylvia smiled charmingly. “When I snatched Katerina away, she tried to kill herself, cried, and screamed. But in the end, didn’t she choose to protect the York family? You and Nicole both need time to digest this. There’s no rush.”

Sophia’s expression was complicated. “If Nicole truly steps to the pinnacle, she will also be protecting the House of Randell. Are you really okay with that?”

“I respect the choice of every Knight.” Sylvia stood up and said calmly, “But if it conflicts with my creed of protection, I can only crush it. That goes for Nicole, and it goes for you too.”

Sophia’s brows arched. “Then what about Victor?”

Sylvia broke into a smile. “That is how I will not fail him, nor will I fail you.”

Chapter 330: Playing with Fire

In the third month of the Season of Fire, the scorching sun was like a furnace, and the air over the Centaur Hills distorted from the heat.

The preliminary matches, which had been blazing like a wildfire, had concluded. The military tournament was about to enter its heart-pounding climax.

It was an athletic meet, but also a competition.

The contestants poured sweat and fought with all their might, vying for glory and a future, while the major and minor lords of the York family competed for talent. Land, wealth, Knight Tutors, political marriages, and the family’s reserves of Vigor Potions and cleansing potions were their bargaining chips.

Normally, a great house like the York family did not welcome noble sons of impure Bloodlines, and cleansing potions and Vigor Potions were reserved for the family’s blood relatives. However, The Rose Knights were on the verge of expansion, and the aberrant war beasts of the future would require a sufficient number of riders. Even though Sylvia had yet to discuss the specifics of her southern expansion strategy, history had already proven that Spirit Knights were far more aggressive than Legendary Knights.

No one wanted to be excluded from the inner circle. What the lords had to do was seize the opportunity to expand their power.

And so it was. Sylvia was currently testing the waters with the various major powers regarding the barbarians and the port, while Victor was making final preparations for the underground war and the Golden Company’s strategy.

Pioneering a fief was the dream of any Knight, but Victor believed there was still much potential to be tapped within human society. The underground war between the Stag Merchants’ Guild and the Southwind Merchants’ Guild was an opportunity for the Golden Company to rise. Redeploying the alchemical creatures had become a pressing issue. But before making any adjustments, Victor first had to inspect the situation in the Great Marsh and the mountain stronghold.

“Damn it all. On such a hot day, I still have to wear thick leather armor. It’s hard to imagine you and Bel lived in the marsh for eleven years.”

Riding on the back of an Alchemical Dragon-Lizard, Victor flicked away a buzzing bloodfly. The insect repellent concocted by the Alchemical militia was clearly ineffective against it.

Imosen, seated on another Dragon-Lizard, turned his head and said, “The Great Marsh is never pleasant, at any time. It’s too cold in the Season of Water, and when it’s hot, there are too many poisonous insects and snakes. During the Season of Fire each year, Bel and I rarely leave the island. I had the Aberrant Rats dig a large pool with a Purification Crystal inside, and Bel would swim in it. Of course, I also raised many Long-tongued Horned Frogs. Those little things are quite useful… My lord, would you like to try one?”

Three green horned frogs squatted on the Wizard’s shoulders and head. Whenever a flying insect approached, they would shoot out their long tongues to snatch it into their mouths. Victor glanced at them and changed the subject. “How much farther to the Goblin camp?”

“Just behind that patch of sawtooth grass.” Imosen pointed ahead. The horned frog on his left shoulder hopped onto his elbow, its slick tongue darting straight for the Wizard’s fingers.

The massive bodies of the Alchemical Dragon-Lizards pushed through the dense grass. The island erupted in chaos as hundreds of green-skinned Goblins scurried in every direction. Just then, dozens of sturdy and fierce Half-dragons emerged from the lake. Seeing their protectors appear, the Goblins gradually quieted down and, urged on by the Half-dragons, returned to their camp.

“Henry, how’s this month’s harvest? Alright, I know your name is Varuvarubaru, but I’m just going to call you Henry. I like that name.”

“It doesn’t matter if you don’t like it, as long as you like javelins. I have iron javelins and wooden javelins here. How many you can take depends on how many seeds, herbs, hides, and ores you can give me.”

The Alchemical Dragon-Lizard lay down on the ground, and Imosen slid off its back. An Alchemical militiaman took out the javelins from his pack and stuck them in the ground in front of the Half-dragon Chief.

While the Wizard was conversing with the Half-dragon, Victor began to observe the Goblin camp.

Hundreds of nests woven from Thousand-Bend Reed leaves were scattered haphazardly in the center of the island. Dozens of simple shacks stood among them, and Goblins could be seen in each one. Some were adult Goblins with several young, others just a single adult Goblin. The physical characteristics of these adults already indicated they were female; to be precise, they were all the favored concubines of the Goblin chief.

The Goblin chief’s dwelling was at the heart of the camp. Its walls, woven from reed stalks, were tight and dense, with clay filling the gaps, making it look quite sturdy. The thatch on the roof was neatly arranged, with the leaves extending beyond the eaves to provide protection from the rain. In terms of construction craftsmanship alone, this Goblin shanty was not inferior to those built by humans.

Behind the chief’s shack were two slightly shorter shacks. Their walls weren’t filled with clay and were not as sturdy, but they were well-ventilated. Through the gaps between the reed stalks, one could see the supplies piled inside. These were clearly the Goblins’ storehouses.

In the open space before the storehouses, a row of wooden racks had been set up. Hides of six-legged crocodiles and Giant Pythons were hung on them, and beneath were baskets of black ore.

Behind the camp was a pile of decaying wood, where some half-grown Goblin young were picking mushrooms. They only picked the ones the size of a human face, leaving the smaller ones. Other adult Goblins formed a long line, carrying supplies from the storeroom to the Half-dragon Chief.

The adult Goblins were about 1.3 meters tall, completely bare, revealing their scrawny bodies and limbs. A disproportionately large head sat atop a slender neck, and their mouths stretched to their cheeks, making them look ugly and comical. These Goblins looked short and weak, but they could easily carry objects weighing over one hundred pounds. Their strength was comparable to that of an ordinary man from Earth.

“Get away, you filthy mongrel!”

Imosen kicked away a Goblin that had gotten too close, then wiped his boot on the grass. That Goblin was taller and stronger than an ordinary one. After falling, it didn’t get up, but instead rolled backward.

It was literally rolling on the ground.

“What did that Hobgoblin just say to you?”

Victor’s hand was on his longsword, his gaze icy. The Alchemical Warhounds seemed to sense the killing intent in their master’s heart. Their green eyes stared fixedly at the rolling Hobgoblin, the fur on their necks bristling as they prepared to pounce. Only when Victor gestured did they sit back down. The Hobgoblin lay prostrate on the ground, trembling and looking pathetic.

“Krolok called me master’s master, trying to curry favor with me. Such a disgusting creature,” Imosen said with a face full of revulsion.

The social behavior displayed by the Goblins triggered an instinctive hostility in Victor. He wished he could draw his sword and slaughter all these monsters, just as a lion kills a hyena or a tiger kills a leopard. But the sight of the piles of supplies made him suppress his murderous impulse. “Tell them to hurry up,” he commanded.

Before Imosen could relay Victor’s will, the Hobgoblin Krolok scrambled to his feet and began shouting at the Goblin slaves. The two idle Bugbears also joined the transport team, and before long, all the supplies from the warehouse were moved to the open space. The Hobgoblin Krolok bowed and scraped before Victor, its body language fully conveying submission and a desire to please.

“These supplies can be exchanged for four refined iron javelins, or forty wooden javelins, or twenty fine-barbed harpoons.” Imosen stepped on a bag of Thousand-Bend Reed seeds and said arrogantly, “Henry, you choose.”

The Half-dragon didn’t haggle, but it knew that one refined iron javelin was worth ten wooden javelins, or five harpoons. It ultimately chose two refined iron javelins, ten wooden javelins, and five harpoons.

The Alchemical militia tied up the supplies and loaded them into the baskets on the Alchemical Dragon-Lizards’ backs. Imosen said, “My lord, we can go now.”

Victor nodded and said, “Tell the Half-dragon to kill the Goblin chief if he sees them start a fire.”

Imosen paused for a moment, then turned and said, “Henry, if the Goblins dare to start a fire, kill Krolok first, then kill the Goblin who started it.”

The Half-dragon Chief bared its cavernous maw and hissed, “Children of the Mire hate fire. Fire-starting Goblins feed six-legged crocodiles.”

The Hobgoblin prostrated itself on the ground, not daring to move. Victor and Imosen mounted the saddles of the Alchemical Dragon-Lizards. The five Dragon-Lizards let out muffled roars, rose, and began to walk away. They hadn’t gone far when the sound of a Goblin’s scream came from behind. Imosen looked back and saw two Bugbears tearing an ordinary Goblin in half.

“What are those beasts doing?” Imosen asked, gloating.

Without turning his head, Victor said coolly, “The Goblin chief is showing me his loyalty, and conveniently eliminating a potential rival.”

Imosen shrugged indifferently, then said excitedly, “My lord, these Goblins are really useful. The amount of supplies this month is more than usual. The Black Iron Ore is almost two thousand pounds, Thousand-Bend Reed seeds twenty thousand pounds, Crystal Glaze Rock five thousand pounds, shipworms one thousand pounds, various herbs five hundred pounds, over four hundred large pearls, four pounds of Shadow Spider blood, and also eight six-legged crocodile hides and five Giant Python hides, enough to make twelve new sets of armor.”

“Because there are more Goblins?”

“Yes,” Imosen said, shaking his head smugly. “These beasts can really breed! In just half a year, one hundred eighty-nine Goblins have become four hundred twenty-four. At this rate, it won’t be two years before the supplies they collect can fill the warehouses of the mountain stronghold.”

“We might be playing with fire!”

Victor was silent for a moment before saying grimly, “Have you noticed that the bloodflies no longer bite the Goblins? In the past, they wouldn’t have spared the bare-skinned green-skinned runts.”

“Maybe it’s because the green-skins stink too much.” Imosen spat on the ground and said without exaggeration, “The smell makes me want to vomit, yet the bloodflies have to suck their stinking blood into their bellies.”

“The Goblins do indeed stink. This smell is an adaptive mutation that makes the marsh predators lose interest in them. In fact, beastmen won’t eat Goblins unless they can’t find anything else to eat. This batch of Goblins is adapting to the marsh environment.” Victor shook his head with a wry smile. “I’d heard of this talent of the Goblins, but seeing it with my own eyes is still shocking.”

Imosen was dumbfounded. After a while, he asked weakly, “My lord, if Goblins can mutate so quickly, why don’t they make themselves poisonous?”

“Poisonous Goblins wouldn’t be very useful to beastmen. The beastmen would be more than happy to see the Goblins completely wiped out.” Victor sighed hoarsely, “This species is truly terrifying!”

Goblins had an extremely strong ability to adapt to their environment, and their reproduction rate was astonishing. They were not picky eaters; grass roots, worms, and even the corpses of their own kind were their food. As long as food was plentiful, Goblins would mutate in two directions: one was the physically tough, simple-minded Bugbear, and the other was the intelligent Hobgoblin.

In truth, apart from the Bugbears, every Goblin possessed intelligence. Their fingers were nimble, they could use tools, and engage in complex labor, but Hobgoblins were different.

Hobgoblins could enslave Bugbears, command ordinary Goblins with a division of labor, establish a social hierarchy, and even possessed diplomatic skills. The Hobgoblin Krolok had seen that Victor was the true leader. It could also understand human language—or more accurately, the Hobgoblin could grasp its master’s meaning and communicate with its master through body language. Hobgoblins could also build houses, grow mushrooms, make fire, mine ore, and forge weapons and equipment, cooperating with their master in military operations. Their knowledge was embedded in their Bloodline, manifesting as they aged.

Many intelligent species had the gift of bloodline memory. They were often the servants of some extraordinary creature. For example, the Lizardmen were servants of the nine-headed hydra; they were bound by their bloodline memory, their potential limited to merely knowing how to serve the Hydra Lizard.

The problem was, Goblins had no specific master. Where did their knowledge come from?

Social development does not happen overnight. If the chain of knowledge transmission were to break, human civilization would collapse. Survivors stranded on an island would find it almost impossible to rebuild a civilized society; in a few generations, they might well return to the Stone Age. For this reason, governments and private organizations on Earth build sturdy underground libraries to ensure the flame of civilization can be passed down.

Goblins directly inherited knowledge through their Bloodline! This indicated they had once possessed an incomparably glorious civilization, and their purpose was obvious.

No matter how humble or obedient Goblins appeared, it was all for the sake of restoring that glory!

Victor guessed that the alliance of powerful Chosen with the elves and barbarians was meant to squeeze the Goblins’ living space, because they couldn’t completely exterminate them. And the beastmen’s counterattack against human kingdoms was likely the result of the Goblins’ secret guidance. The beastmen had strange body types and lacked nimble hands; without the Goblins’ support, they were just a bunch of weaklings. Conversely, if humanity were to be exterminated, the Goblins could make the beastmen kneel and call them master in an instant.

The beastmen’s morphology shows no possibility of developing a civilization! Could they all be experimental subjects concocted by the Goblins? Did the Goblins play themselves to death, or were they taken down by the Alchemical Empire? It seems I, too, am courting death!

Victor held a piece of dark ore, torn with indecision.

Black Iron Ore was another name for Saronite Demon Iron Ore. As a super-class material of the Alchemical Empire, its true purpose was still unclear, but it was an important piece in completing the puzzle of history.

Crystal Glaze Rock could be fired into crystal objects, similar to glass on Earth. It was extremely rare, its value equal to gold.

Thousand-Bend Reed was a grain, and one could never have too much in reserve. Shipworms, fleshy worms that grew in rotten wood, looked disgusting but were incredibly delicious. When dried and ground into a powder, they became a top-tier seasoning.

Not to mention the unique herbs and hides of the marsh. The lakes also held countless pieces of bogwood, which was another commodity as valuable as gold. There were also various minerals waiting to be mined. And all these things were useless to the marsh’s native inhabitants; rather than letting them rot in the marsh, they might as well trade them for a few refined iron javelins.

This natural treasure trove was something Victor couldn’t let go of.

After Itugos’s death, the twenty-thousand-square-kilometer area of the Great Marsh was in a transitional period. The fierce predators had not yet returned, Capybaras were scarce, and the Lizardmen lived by fishing. The Goblins had no competitors, making this the perfect time for them to multiply and grow stronger.

Victor had originally planned to have the Half-dragon tribe control the Goblin population, but the Half-dragons didn’t eat Goblins! The Goblins, on the other hand, could bribe the Half-dragons. They could forge weapons; even if Victor forbade them from using fire, they could still grind obsidian weapons. They would first win over the Half-dragons, then rely on their terrifying reproduction rate to rapidly take over Itugos’s territory.

However, the land area in the marsh was limited, and the swamp predators were quite fierce, which was enough to curb the Goblins’ living space. A growing Goblin tribe wouldn’t yet threaten the Randell Fief, but they would certainly cast off their servitude.

Once the green-skinned runts rebelled, this Great Marsh would no longer be the Randell family’s backyard.

You’re both beastmen, so why the hell don’t you eat Goblins?

Victor loathed the Half-dragons’ picky eating habits, but no matter how annoyed he was, the problem still needed to be solved.

A military force to deter the Half-dragons and Goblins was indispensable. As the efficiency of resource collection increased, the transport capacity also needed to be enhanced. This meant that as the Goblin and Half-dragon populations grew, the number of alchemical creatures Victor had to deploy would also increase.

Five Alchemical Dragon-Lizards were definitely not enough; ten should be about right. But the Dragon-Lizards were tasked with transportation and had virtually no time to patrol the territory, so a mobile force was also needed. Both the Alchemical Warhounds and Alchemical humans consumed the Alchemy Tower’s Soul Fire, which was a bit tricky.

Victor turned his gaze to the Wizard and asked, “Imosen, that Wisdom Guidance of yours should be usable by now, right?”

Imosen’s expression stiffened. He stammered, “My lord, it’s usable, but… Lord Busuo said that if I do it again, I will die.”

Biological Aberrations cultivated through Wizardry couldn’t create aberrant war beasts. Only after Itugos broke free from Imosen’s control and transformed into a natural Biological Aberration did its flesh and blood gain infectious properties. This change was due to the forced interruption of Wisdom Guidance, but Imosen himself had suffered from the magical backlash, falling into a state of soul weakness from which he still hadn’t fully recovered.

Since Imosen was in danger of perishing, the plan to cultivate an aberrant war beast alone was bankrupt. As for letting Imosen directly control a Biological Aberration, Victor wouldn’t even consider such a thing.

Imosen’s abilities were precious. He could understand the thoughts of animals. Under his meticulous care, the Swiftbirds were all spirited and in excellent condition, with their hatching and survival rates having doubled. The same was true for the mountain Camelopes. Imosen had successfully bred two excellent types of hounds: one was a sentinel hound with keen Perception and a slender build, the other a fighting hound with a strong Physique, fierce and tenacious. These two types of hounds complemented each other and could meet the practical needs of the House of Randell. He was also breeding hunting falcons and Blackfeather vultures. Victor believed it wouldn’t be long before the House of Randell had its own war-hawks.

Victor would rather lose the Great Marsh than this one-of-a-kind extraordinary master of animal taming, and he certainly couldn’t allow him to become independent and escape his control.

“Don’t be nervous. I was just asking.”

Victor smiled faintly, then warned sternly, “Imosen, you must remember that Goblins are very terrifying creatures. Never have direct contact with them. You must control them through the Half-dragons. I will send people to watch you. If you dare to disobey my orders, I guarantee you will never see Beldina again.”

“Honored Master, you can rest assured. The sight of Goblins makes me want to vomit; I wish I could kill them all! I will absolutely not say a single word to those green-skinned runts,” Imosen hastily promised.

“Good.” Victor nodded. “I plan to divide the twenty-thousand-square-kilometer marsh into four areas and have the Goblins collect resources in a nomadic fashion, harvesting only one area each quarter. This way, we won’t need too many Goblins.” After a pause, he added, “You tell the Half-dragons that regardless of whether the green-skinned runts are tasty or not, they are to keep the green-skin population under four thousand.”

“As you wish, my Master,” Imosen said with a hand to his chest.

“Once things in the Great Marsh are on the right track, I will arrange an identity for you and promote you to be my master of the hunt, so you and your daughter can be reunited. Oh, right, the master of the hunt is also a high-ranking member of the household. The maids at Silver Moon Manor would surely be willing to be your partners. They are all beauties, one in a hundred. You’ll like them.”

Victor tossed out a sweet enticement, and he could hear Imosen gulping loudly. The Wizard looked old, but he was actually not yet forty. More than a decade of living as a savage had worn him down considerably. Now that he was finally settled, how could he not have some romantic thoughts? The beautiful maids would undoubtedly deepen his longing for family life.

“My lord, can I have three partners? Or… two would be fine,” Imosen asked, his eyes gleaming green.

“Haha, that depends on your ability. The maids earn a salary of twenty Gold Sols a year. You have to be able to support them. You also have to prepare an inducement fee for their parents. I estimate it can’t be less than two hundred Gold Sols.”

“My lord, does the family’s master of the hunt have a salary?” Imosen asked weakly.

“Yes! One hundred Gold Sols a year. If you don’t eat or drink, you can marry a maid in two years,” Victor teased deliberately.

“Then I’d rather just marry a woman with a child…”

Should he marry a beautiful and pure maid? Or just settle for an ordinary woman? The maids knew etiquette, could read, write, and do arithmetic. Only they were worthy of the title of the master of the hunt’s wife… But what about the two-hundred-Gold-Sol inducement fee?

Imosen had completely put himself in the role of the master of the hunt. He was torn and distracted all the way, his mind elsewhere. It wasn’t until the Alchemical Dragon-Lizards stopped that he realized the party had arrived at the basket lift on the cliff face.

The mountain stronghold was on the cliff above.

Chapter 331: Transformation

The mountain stronghold stood majestically atop the hill’s peak. Its architectural style was no different from an ordinary baron’s castle—tall and clumsy, devoid of any artistic ornamentation. Yet anyone who stood before this castle would feel its impregnable, imposing aura and a gravitas that bore the weight of ages.

Victor often thought that if the mountain stronghold were not destroyed by the flames of war, it would still be standing here quietly a thousand years from now. Its weathered walls, illuminated by the bleak moonlight, would appear especially desolate. Silence would reign within the castle, the surging sound of wind through the pines punctuated by the mournful howl of a lone wolf. If a party of adventurers happened upon it, would they be able to imagine its former glory from the ancient and mysterious ruins?

Perhaps, our gazes are meeting across a thousand years.

Standing at the fifth-floor window, Victor gazed at the blacksmith’s workshop and the Swiftbird breeding grounds outside the castle, feeling a mix of emotion and secret pride.

This was the thrill of power.

In Victor’s memory, though the little Baron’s father held the title of Baron and a seven-hundred-square-kilometer fief, as a vassal of the Royal Family, he could not build a castle without the King’s permission; to do so would be considered an act of rebellion. In truth, he couldn’t have afforded to build one anyway.

For an ordinary lord, constructing a castle was an exhaustive drain on the people and treasury. No matter how sturdily a castle was built or how diligently it was maintained, its lifespan would not exceed three hundred years—unless they were like the York family, who used weather- and rain-resistant obsidian for their castle’s outer walls. Most lords managed their fiefs diligently, saving up every gold coin they could to one day rebuild their castle. If some spendthrift heir were to squander this fortune, the fief might be swallowed by a neighbor or reclaimed by the King.

Victor had the Alchemy Tower and the giant brick kilns. He had the manpower, the technology, and the materials. Once Sylvia’s scheme was complete and Lake City rose from the ground, every town in the Randell Fief would have its own castle, and Hill Camp would be transformed into an epic fortress city.

It would cover an area of 320,000 square meters, with twenty bastions and seven towers. The average height would be fifty-five meters, with the main structure reaching seventy-six meters and the tallest tower ninety-four meters. It would be constructed of rock brick with white sand plastered walls—majestic beyond its time, without equal.

This was by no means a daydream. The Alchemical auxiliary soldiers had already surveyed the geological conditions of Hill Camp and completed the design plans. Every time Victor looked at the blueprints for Candlefort, he couldn’t stop grinning foolishly.

Butz paid no mind to his master’s thoughts at that moment, reporting on the situation at the mountain stronghold in a stiff, formal tone.

“My lord, a total of 517 healthy chicks hatched at the Swiftbird breeding grounds this year, of which 271 were male. The hatching rate reached 78%, with a health rate of 87%. The Swiftbird farm now has 162 one-year-old males, 93 two-year-old males, and 67 three-year-old males.”

“The physical condition and training level of this batch of three-year-old males show an improvement compared to the same period in previous years. Test results indicate their average load-bearing capacity is 260 pounds, an increase of 30 pounds, and their maximum load-bearing capacity is 380 pounds, an increase of 60 pounds. Their average weight is 395 kilograms, an increase of 30 kilograms from the same time last year. Their maximum sprint speed on flat ground has slightly decreased to an average of 81 kilometers per hour, but their average obstacle-crossing speed has improved to 52 kilometers per hour. Their endurance has increased by fifty percent.”

“Additionally, their fat has decreased, their muscle fibers have grown coarser, and their physical strength has increased.”

“Meaning, they’re not so tender and delicious anymore.”

Victor stepped away from the window and returned to the main seat, smiling. “I’ve never eaten a Swiftbird, and I don’t intend for anyone else to eat Swiftbird meat.” With that, he nodded at Imosen. “Well done!”

The Swiftbirds were originally war-fowl raised by the Halflings. After the Halflings’ Westward Migration with the Forest Centaurs, most of the Swiftbirds left behind were subpar specimens. They roamed the Centaur Hills without natural predators or training, doing nothing but eating and sleeping all day. They had all grown fat and lazy, with tender meat, and would get dead tired just from carrying a hundred kilograms. They had none of the bearing of a war beast.

Although the Alchemical militia could raise Swiftbirds, their skills were a far cry from those of an extraordinary animal tamer. Under Imosen’s careful guidance, these Swiftbirds were finally beginning to show a glimmer of their war beast nature, like a commoner transforming into an elite soldier.

No! They were originally just a flock of meat birds, not even qualifying as ordinary birds.

Regardless, the Swiftbirds’ potential was delightful, and Imosen was undoubtedly a national treasure. Victor was now certain that if Imosen were to fall into the hands of the York family, Sylvia would never give him up either.

At this thought, the last trace of his misgivings about keeping a Wizard vanished completely.

Imosen took out a parchment scroll and presented it respectfully, a look of reserved pride on his face. “My lord, although this batch of three-year-old Swiftbirds can be ridden, they are still juveniles. You can hand them over to riders to be raised for two years to build a bond and practice coordinated combat. A five-year-old Swiftbird is considered an adult, when its intelligence and physical abilities are at their peak. If you strictly follow the training methods and feed formula I’ve designed, a Swiftbird’s peak period can last as long as six years. Of course, the rearing costs have also increased, mainly due to the increased proportion of meat and herbs.”

“Compared to two thousand elite Swiftbird light cavalry, what’s a little meat! Heh heh… ten pounds of beef loin, one live ground lizard, six ground lizard eggs, five pounds of white peas, ten pounds of tender Purple Cane leaves, and one pound each of perilla grass, blue-vein grass, and earth root? Heh heh… that’s really nothing at all.”

Victor put down the scroll with a dry laugh and asked amiably, “Would pork loin not work?”

Imosen shook his head.

Victor turned to Busuo. “Is a Swiftbird’s average lifespan twenty-five years?”

“Yes,” Busuo replied.

Imosen interjected, “My lord, I have observed the Swiftbirds’ spiritual potential and physical structure. If they are raised according to my methods, their lifespan should be around thirty years. During their peak, their load-bearing capacity will be no less than 320 pounds, their burst power will be double what it is now, and their stamina will be twice its current level. This should be the Swiftbird’s limit.”

Victor composed himself and asked, “How long can a Swiftbird serve?”

“About eight to twelve years,” Imosen said, full of confidence.

Swiftbirds were combat partners; they couldn’t be killed even after retirement! Based on a thirty-year lifespan and a ten-year service period, maintaining a force of two thousand Swiftbird light cavalry would require a flock of no less than twelve thousand birds. The daily cost to feed each one was one Silver Sol, making the total annual cost two hundred thousand Gold Sols!

What a despair-inducing number… If it cost this much just to raise Swiftbird light cavalry, how many gold coins must the Swift Dragon Knights devour? No wonder the Gambis Royal Family’s finances were tight, and no wonder Sylvia had handed the Swiftbirds over to him to raise… She’s tricked me again!

Victor slumped over the table, propping his forehead on his hands, dejected and heartbroken.

“My lord, are you ill?” Imosen asked nervously.

“I’m fine… You did a great job. I mean, you’re very capable. Yes, too capable…”

Victor straightened up, rallied his spirits, and said, “Two thousand Swiftbird light cavalry is a bit much… mainly because I don’t have that many elite riders. So, eight hundred… oh, no, four hundred! I’ve decided four hundred Swiftbird light cavalry will be enough.”

“I need forty Swiftbird mounts annually, and I have to give Sylvia sixty. The Swiftbird breeding population can’t be less than 4,200… That’s still a bit much!” Victor blinked and asked helplessly, “Imosen, can the female birds you’ve raised fight?”

“They can,” Imosen nodded, then hesitated. “However, the females’ physical condition is not as good as the males’. Their maximum load-bearing capacity is 280 pounds…”

“That’s enough!”

Victor stood up and swung his arm forcefully. “The second-generation males only had a load-bearing capacity of 230 pounds! Imosen, you truly are capable!”

You don’t realize how expensive things are until you’re running the household, and you don’t know the meaning of reckless military expansion until you’re a lord. As long as the female birds were usable, he could cut the required flock size in half. The females’ combat strength might be a little weaker, but with females around, who knew, maybe the males would get all pumped up.

The lord’s praise made Imosen feel three-parts lighter. He said boastfully, “My lord, the warhorses I train are first-rate too!”

“I have no doubt about that.”

Victor clapped the Wizard on the shoulder and said, “But your most important task right now is to uncover the potential of the Camelopes. As long as you can increase their load-bearing capacity to 600 pounds, I will not be stingy with my rewards! Hmm, I’ll cover all the expenses for you to get married!”

“My generous and merciful Master, I will not let you down,” Imosen said, overjoyed. He bowed deeply. “I’ll go check on the Camelopes right now!”

The Wizard walked away cheerfully, and Victor couldn’t help but chuckle. It remained to be seen if the male birds would get pumped up at the sight of females, but Imosen was definitely in an amped up state.

Victor leaned back in his chair and said lazily, “Continue the report.”

“As you requested, we have forged the first batch of 600 Thorium foot-cocked crossbows. The Alchemical auxiliary soldiers can easily draw their strings, and their range and penetration meet the standards. We have 232 sets of crocodile-hide full armor. The materials we currently harvest each month can sustain a production rate of 30 sets of crocodile-hide armor. This number is increasing monthly. It is estimated to take another twelve months to complete the first batch of 800 sets.”

Victor pondered for a moment, then asked, “What is the lifespan of the crocodile-hide armor?”

“No more than eight years.”

Victor thought for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t have that many elite cavalry. The mountain stronghold will stockpile 500 sets of crocodile-hide armor, then halt the production of all military equipment, including the foot-cocked crossbows.” He paused, then added, “Jack, once the crocodile-hide armor is finished, suspend the hunting of six-legged crocodiles, Giant Pythons, and shadow spiders. Let their populations recover first. As long as we control the Great Marsh, we can harvest animal resources whenever we need.”

“As you wish, my lord,” Jack said with a nod.

“Report on the surveying and mining of minerals in the mountains, and the distribution of personnel,” Victor ordered.

“In the 780 kilometers of mountains from the southern gap to the central gap of the Larkspur Mountains, there are seven refined iron mines, two thorium mines, one copper mine, and one obsidian mine. We are currently building two large smelters near the closest refined iron and thorium mines to mine and smelt on site.”

“The mountain stronghold has 120 auxiliary soldiers, 600 militia, 30 Alchemical Warhounds, 90 alchemical crows, and 274 Camelopes. Among them are 200 miners, a Camelope transport team of 20, and 100 craftsmen. The remaining 400 people are responsible for raising Swiftbirds and Camelopes, gathering plant and animal resources, and patrol duties.”

“The Marsh Advance Camp has 15 Warhounds, 120 alchemical crows, 5 Alchemical Dragon-Lizards, 50 militia, and 30 auxiliary soldiers.”

“The Raven Town mountain outpost has 10 Warhounds, 40 alchemical crows, 10 auxiliary soldiers, and 80 militia.”

Jack added, “Also, the alchemical crows have spotted traces of human activity in the mountains near the central gap. I personally scouted the area and confirmed they are knights from the York family.”

“There are no beasts to be seen in the Centaur Hills, so the York family’s knights can only bring their students into the mountains for training,” Victor said with a smile. “Withdraw all the northern outposts to avoid being discovered by the York family. Order the alchemical creatures from the Raven Town mountain region to return to the Randell Fief. That place is to be given to the barbarians.”

“Also…” Victor stood up and paced back and forth a few times, then looked up and said, “The mountain stronghold will retain only 400 of its 720 personnel. The remaining 300 will return to Hill Camp and await new orders. I have other arrangements for them. The Marsh Advance Camp will keep its Alchemical Dragon-Lizards and thirty Alchemical militia, and will be reinforced with ten Alchemical Warhounds. The rest of its personnel will also return to Hill Camp.”

Busuo said, “My lord, if we do this, our efficiency in resource gathering and material production will decrease.”

“It’s fine. The warehouses are already full.”

Victor gazed through the window at the newly built green brick warehouses in the valley below and murmured, “It’s time for the mountain stronghold to transform.”

Chapter 332: Concealment

The mountain region was rich in fauna and flora, enough to support twenty thousand Swiftbirds. However, what was the use of raising a flock of plump birds with tender meat? Victor needed war-fowl, not meat birds. Imosen had designed a feed formula based on the Swiftbirds’ physiology that could effectively improve their physical conditioning. But some of the ingredients in the formula were unavailable in the Randell Fief or the mountains—things like beef loin and white peas had to be purchased with money.

Of course, Victor could grow white peas, and the Randell Fief had no shortage of cattle and sheep. But the Swiftbirds needed beef loin every day. How many cattle in the fief were there to be slaughtered? In truth, not only did raising Swiftbirds cost a lot of money, but maintaining the mercenary army was also a huge financial burden, to say nothing of castle construction.

For any lord, building an army was a major economic challenge. Lords typically distributed land to their vassals, who in turn provided the lord with soldiers, warhorses, and armaments. This alleviated the lord’s financial pressure to a certain extent. Victor, however, had to solve the problem of military funding himself, but this was precisely the advantage of a centralized system.

Concentrating limited manpower, resources, and finances allowed for prioritizing the most pressing issues. The administrative efficiency of a centralized system far surpassed that of the vassalage system.

The economy and the military supported each other; both the Swiftbird light cavalry and the construction of Candlefort required immense financial backing. The Randell Fief had already completed its System Building for production, and the mountain stronghold’s material reserves had reached their peak. It was now time to focus on perfecting the smuggling channels.

“The Alchemical humans in the mountain stronghold have all been practicing the Mystic Form for over three years. It’s a bit of a waste to have them continue doing manual labor. I plan to replace them and expand the smuggling caravan. The flora and fauna in the mountains won’t be depleted, and as long as the production facilities here are complete, we can resume production at any time.”

Victor continued, “From now on, the mountain stronghold will be converted into a training camp, maintaining a force of four hundred. The Alchemical militia and Alchemical auxiliary soldiers will focus on training, with production being secondary. For every new recruit I send over, an equal number of veterans will be transferred out.”

“For the first two years, new recruits will study martial arts, battle tactics, and basic life skills at the mountain stronghold. In the third year, the new recruits will enter the Randell Fief as hired refugee laborers, interacting with ordinary people to awaken their intelligence and obtain new identities. In the fourth year, they’ll join the Randell militia training camp. By the fifth year, they will be the family’s Elite Guards and elite War-Soldiers. I will arrange for them to join the mercenary army or the smuggling caravan.”

“Busuo, aside from ore smelting and animal taming, all other production projects at the mountain stronghold can be put on hold. Jack, you will be in charge of training the new comrades.”

“Yes, my lord,” Busuo and Jack said in unison.

Victor walked towards the door, saying as he went, “Take me to the treasury. I want to see the Saron Demon Iron.”

The treasury was on the second floor of the castle. Busuo led Victor and his entourage through a long corridor and ordered the treasury guards to push open the heavy, refined iron doors. The hinges groaned with a piercing screech as a cool draft washed over them. Busuo entered the chamber holding a torch and lit the candles one by one, dispelling the darkness and chill. Only then did Victor step through the treasury entrance.

Every time he entered the treasury, Victor felt certain that he was a wealthy lord. The swords, spears, Thorium heavy crossbows, and Standard Battle Crossbows on the weapon racks, along with sets of Thorium Ant-man armor and neatly stacked silver ingots, all gleamed dazzlingly in the candlelight. But Victor wasn’t here to look at weapons and equipment today. The wooden box in Busuo’s hands drew his gaze.

“Six hundred and four grams of Saron Demon Iron ingots. It’s all here.” Busuo opened the wooden box, presenting the top-tier material to his master.

The palm-sized ingot was the purest shade of black, like a black hole that could absorb light. Not a single reflection could be seen on its surface, and only its cold, metallic touch indicated that it was neither charcoal nor stone. Victor held the Saron Demon Iron, hefting it a couple of times, and muttered to himself, “What’s so special about this?”

The Alchemical humans had already told him everything they knew. Victor decided to test it himself. A breeze swirled around his palm, spinning faster and faster until it turned a deep blue. Then, something astonishing happened. The inky black Saron Demon Iron, like a sponge soaking up water, began absorbing the violent and sharp void wind element.

“Huh?!”

Victor dispersed the blue airflow in his palm and carefully examined the Saron Demon Iron. Even with the meticulous perception of X-3, he couldn’t detect the slightest change in the ingot. It was as if the phenomenon of it absorbing the void wind element had been a mere illusion.

Victor tried a few more times, but the ingot’s mass, shape, and color remained unchanged.

“Everyone, step back. You, cut off a third of this ingot for me.”

Victor ordered a treasury guard to cut the ingot and gestured for Busuo, Jack, Reno, and the other key Alchemical humans to withdraw from the treasury as a precaution.

“My lord, here is the Saron Demon Iron you requested.” The guard stepped out of the treasury, holding the piece that had been cut off.

“Well done, Hans.”

Victor took the ingot, his expression somewhat awkward. Although there was no essential difference between the Alchemical lifeforms, in his mind, Reno and the others carried more weight. Hans returned to his post. His obedience to his master was unwavering, and he cared little for whether he was praised or slighted.

The destructive test didn’t cause an explosion. This indicated that although Saron Demon Iron absorbed the void wind element, its physical properties were extremely stable, which was different from Mithril’s elemental affinity.

After a moment of thought, Victor tossed the ingot to Reno and instructed, “Keep this safe. We’re going back to the Alchemy Tower to see how the King appraises this demon iron.”

The Alchemy Tower was 70 kilometers from the mountain stronghold. Riding a Swiftbird, Victor reached the Hill Camp in less than four hours. Inside a cave in the upper camp, a spring gurgled, its waters cool and refreshing. Victor connected with the Tower Spirit in his mind.

“King, I’m here.”

“My lord, welcome back to the Alchemy Tower,” the King responded immediately.

“Report the Alchemy Tower’s Soul Fire and financial status,” Victor ordered directly.

“Total Soul Fire in the Alchemy Tower is 12,380 points. Remaining Soul Fire is 1,250 points. Remaining funds are 3,800 Gold Sols.”

Victor nodded and signaled for Reno to place the Saron Demon Iron on the Element Extraction Altar. “King, assess its value.”

“Two hundred and three grams of Saron Demon Iron is valued at 162,400 Gold Sols. My lord, shall I extract it?”

“Not yet.” Victor mused for a moment, then said, “In the Will Side of the Alchemical militia, Saron Demon Iron has a much higher priority than Mithril. I remember that one gram of Mithril can be exchanged for 2,800 Gold Sols, while one gram of Saron Demon Iron only gets 800 Gold Sols. Its value is just a fraction of Mithril’s. Do you have an explanation for this?”

“There is nothing related to this in my Will Side, but I have my own theory. Would my lord like to hear it?”

“Speak.”

The King said within Victor’s consciousness, “Mithril points toward the Knight, whereas the use of Saron Demon Iron is unknown; it currently has no specific application. My lord, can 2,800 Gold Sols truly buy one gram of Mithril? Or rather, would a Knight be willing to purchase Mithril at that price?”

Every Silver Knight in the York family had a Mithril weapon, but only Viscount Foresis York and Earl Teldrane possessed Mithril armor. If Gold Sols could buy Mithril, the Silver Knights certainly wouldn’t be stingy with their coins. But the true price of Mithril depended on a Silver Knight’s financial power.

Crafting a suit of Mithril armor required at least sixty grams of Mithril. Calculated at a price of 2,800 Gold Sols per gram, a suit of Mithril armor would cost 160,000 Gold Sols. Regardless of whether a Silver Knight would accept that price, Victor believed they would use all available funds to try and purchase a set of Mithril armor, which would mean weakening their family’s Fortune.

A sensible Silver Knight would not plunge their family into financial straits for a suit of Mithril armor. A price of eighty to one hundred thousand Gold Sols would be more reasonable. From this perspective, the Alchemy Tower’s valuation of Mithril was somewhat inflated, and this inflation was also reflected in the price of Saron Demon Iron.

The future applications of Saron Demon Iron were still unknown. The price of 800 Gold Sols per gram, on the contrary, revealed the Alchemy Tower’s desire for it. Victor hesitated for a moment. After long consideration, he finally spoke, “King, extract the Saron Demon Iron. I need alchemical creatures right now.”

“As you wish.”

Mysterious runes materialized in the void, slowly revolving around the Element Extraction Altar. As Victor watched the Saron Demon Iron gradually iridesce in the light, he couldn’t help but ask, “King, where do the gold coins and materials I sacrifice actually go?”

“My lord, you have asked this question seven times, and my answer has been the same each time. I truly do not know the deeper secrets of the Alchemy Tower.”

“I think you’re hiding something from me,” Victor said, his expression dark. “You’re not like Reno and the others. Reno is blockheaded; he doesn’t have your conversational skills.”

“I am different from the alchemical creatures,” the King responded. “But my loyalty to you is the same as theirs. To be precise, I am even more loyal to you than they are.”

“And how is that?” Victor gave a scornful smile.

“My lord, you would never betray yourself.”

Victor frowned. “What do you mean?”

“My lord, the alchemical creatures are loyal to you because I am you!”

“Heh, are you joking?! You know all my memories, but my knowledge of you is extremely limited!” Victor couldn’t help but say it out loud, his voice so sharp and piercing that it startled even him.

“King, you came from X-3! You’re an artificial intelligence program! You are not me!” Victor roared in his mind.

“My lord, the artificial intelligence from X-3 was latent deep within your consciousness. It was because of the difference in our Will Sides that your soul separated a part of itself to become me,” the King said.

“The Will Side is composed of memories, emotions, cognition, and the subconscious. Your Will Side contains things that do not belong to me, so you are not me,” Victor said coldly.

“Besides the Will Side, a soul also has Soul Fire,” the King explained. “My lord, have you noticed? The Alchemy Tower’s total Soul Fire is 12,380 points. If the alchemical creatures were at full capacity for production, they would occupy all 12,380 points of Soul Fire. Whose Soul Fire, then, is sustaining my soul?”

“You… you mean, my Soul Fire?” Victor was so shocked his thoughts became a jumbled mess.

“My lord, your Spirit attribute should be 15 points. It’s because I occupy one point of Soul Fire that it became 14,” the King explained. “The artificial intelligence from X-3 is insignificant compared to your Will Side, but it was this tiny difference that caused the Alchemy Tower to peel off a part of your soul, combine it with the Tower’s own Will Side, and give birth to the Tower Spirit. But fundamentally, I am a fragment of your soul.”

“The Soul Fire of the alchemical creatures revolves around your Soul Fire. They remember the characteristics of your Soul Fire, which is why they are loyal to you. My lord, you need not ever worry that I will betray you, because I am a part of you. Your limited understanding of me is actually a limited understanding of the Alchemy Tower. But I don’t understand the Alchemy Tower either, which is why I cannot answer many of your questions.”

“Alright,” Victor said, rubbing his temples. “Then why did you hide it?”

The King answered, “You never asked… According to the rules, I must answer your questions, but if you do not ask, I have the right to remain silent. Now that you have asked, my answer is…”

“I am afraid, and yet I yearn.”

Chapter 333: Fighting Spirit

“

“

“It’s hard to imagine a Tower Spirit having emotions like fear and desire.”

“

“

Victor had completely calmed down. He asked in his mind, “King, tell me, what are you afraid of? And what do you want?”

“

“

“They are, in fact, the same question.”

“

“

The King responded, “I long to grow, and I’m afraid that you, My lord, will stop using the Alchemy Tower out of fear. If you make such a choice, my existence will be meaningless, and growth will be out of the question.”

“

“

“You’re afraid that I’m afraid… That’s a bit convoluted!”

“

“

The King said, “You might not like it if I put it another way. For example, I’m afraid you’ll ignore me; I’m worried you’ll lock me in a dark room; I beg you…”

“

“

“Er… The first way of putting it is more accurate.” A chill ran down Victor’s spine, and he quickly cut off the King’s “confession.” He commanded, “Please directly explain the logical connection between your concealment and your fear.”

“

“

“My lord, I did not intentionally hide the matter of the Soul Fire. Before I ‘ate’ that Law Crystal, I was without want or desire. I only knew how to answer your questions and execute your commands. After that, my subjective consciousness was enhanced, and I began to long for more Law Crystals, to eventually evolve into an advanced Alchemy Tower. But you are clearly wary of the Alchemy Tower, especially when it comes to matters of the soul. Anyone would fear an unknown fate, and my claims have no proof, nor can I offer a detailed explanation. I was afraid you would abandon using the Alchemy Tower, yet I hoped you would allow me to continue growing. That’s all there is to it.”

“

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Victor stroked his chin and said, “It’s as if you were an abandoned infant I picked up. You’ve finished kindergarten and are now in elementary school. As your intelligence grows, you have your own ideas and hope I’ll continue to support you through middle school and even university. But you don’t know your own origins and are afraid I’ll disdain you, distance myself from you, or even abandon you because of it… Is that it?”

“

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“A very vivid analogy, but not entirely complete.”

“

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The King added, “To be precise, I am a child born from you…”

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“No! No! No!” Victor’s face darkened, and he said, flustered and exasperated, “You were not born from me! You were adopted!”

“

“

“My lord, I originate from your soul. I was not adopted.” The King insisted his origin was well-documented.

“

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“Fine, you were separated from me. Continue,” Victor decided not to dwell on it.

“

“

“My lord, serving the Master is the most fundamental part of a Tower Spirit’s Will Side. My desire for advancement is also for the sake of serving you better. We share the same Soul Fire. I create the alchemical creatures, and you control them. You have absolutely no reason to worry that I would ever betray you.”

“

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“The claim that we are of the same soul origin is just your word. There’s no proof,” Victor said coolly.

“

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“Indeed, there is no proof, and we have no guide. You must make your own judgment and decisions. I will obey your commands completely,” the King responded.

“

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Victor was silent for a long time before asking in his mind, “King, you are not a being of flesh and blood. What does this desire for advancement feel like to you?”

“

“

“It is similar to your hunger and thirst.”

“

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“If I don’t eat or drink, I’ll die. You won’t…” As he said this, Victor was suddenly struck by a chilling thought and pressed, “What would happen to you if I died?”

“

“

“If the Master’s Soul Fire dissipates, the Tower Spirit disintegrates along with it, and the Alchemy Tower will become masterless,” the King answered.

“

“

“Then would you disintegrate on your own? Or, could I make you disintegrate?” Victor probed.

“

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“Absolutely not.” The King said calmly, “My Soul Fire is attached to yours. As long as you do not die, I will not disintegrate. But you can make me fall silent.”

“

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“By no longer using the Alchemy Tower?”

“

“

“Yes.” The King answered honestly, then added, “My lord, trust me. That is not a good choice. The Alchemical Empire has already been destroyed, and the Empire’s Order is no more. We cannot be certain if other Alchemy Towers have masters. If they do, their first order of business will be to eliminate you and then swallow up Alchemy Tower No. 7. By the same token, you cannot tolerate a threat to your existence, such as the mastermind behind the ant swarms.”

“

“

“My lord, Alchemy Tower No. 7 belongs to you. If the Alchemy Tower advances, I can unlock more information and functions, making you more powerful to face all challenges and crises.”

“

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Victor’s pupils contracted slightly. He said, “I understand. I will seriously consider your suggestion. For now, create one Alchemical Dragon-Lizard, fifty auxiliary soldier archers, and fifty auxiliary soldier spearmen.”

“

“

“As you command, my lord.” The King reported, “The production queue has been established. The Alchemy Tower will consume 720 points of Soul Fire and 100,000 Gold Sols. The Alchemy Tower has 530 points of Soul Fire and 66,200 Gold Sols remaining.”

“

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Victor nodded and walked toward the cave entrance. Just before leaving, he paused and sent a message to the King in his mind, “King, there’s a saying: a small boat is easy to turn around.”

“

“

“My lord, a small boat also cannot withstand storms. Worst of all, you can’t get off the boat, and you don’t know where the port is,” the King said.

“

“

“You’re right. As soon as I can find a Law Crystal, I will have Alchemy Tower No. 7 upgraded.” Victor paused for a moment, then pushed open the hidden door and walked out of the cave.

“

“

Outside, the sunlight was brilliant and scorching. Victor walked slowly down the center of the road in Hill Camp, the blistering sun beating down on him. Reno and Jack followed closely behind their master, leading the Swiftbirds.

“

“

Victor activated X-3, filtering out his emotional interference to summarize and organize the Tower Spirit’s statements.

“

“

According to the King, the Alchemy Tower and its master were in a state of soul-bond. The alchemical creatures, based on the characteristics of the Tower Spirit’s Soul Fire, formed a soul contract with the master and were under the master’s absolute control.

“

“

Assuming what the King said was true, it meant that activating an Alchemy Tower required only two conditions: first, the master’s soul could be split, and second, the Alchemy Tower’s function for creating a Tower Spirit was not damaged. From this, one could deduce that the Alchemical Empire possessed methods for splitting a soul. As long as the master’s soul met the requirements, the Alchemy Tower would automatically and forcibly bind to them, without needing authorization from an Alchemist.

“

“

This hypothesis was largely consistent with Victor’s own experience. The artificial intelligence of X-3 was undoubtedly an implant in Victor’s soul. In the process of constructing the Tower Spirit, the Alchemy Tower had incidentally stripped away a bit of Victor’s Soul Fire, causing him to lose consciousness for a time.

“

“

In fact, Victor felt there was no need for the King to lie.

“

“

No matter how much human-like intelligence the Tower Spirit displayed, it could not escape the constraints of its Will Side. Its knowledge, worries, and desire for growth were all pre-programmed. It was like a child who was told from a young age that the Earth was flat; unless someone presented evidence to correct this view, he would always believe the Earth was flat. But the King could only learn about the outside world through Victor, and Victor himself was completely in the dark.

“

“

False and one-sided information could lead one astray. Victor was crossing the river by feeling for the stones; he had to be extremely cautious. Unfortunately, he no longer had a choice.

“

“

A masterless Alchemy Tower would face at least two fates: one, wait for a new master to appear, or two, have its Law Crystal integrated by another Alchemy Tower. Victor had firsthand experience with this. He had activated Alchemy Tower No. 7 and then obtained a Law Crystal in the Gloomy Forest, which repaired the tower’s ability to create Dragon-Lizards. By the same logic, if someone wanted to seize Alchemy Tower No. 7’s Law Crystal, they would first have to kill him.

“

“

If he didn’t want to die, he had to seize Law Crystals and upgrade the Alchemy Tower.

To summarize: First, anyone could activate an Alchemy Tower under the right conditions. Second, the soul-bond was forced, irreversible, and inescapable. Third, the Tower Spirit would guide and induce its master to repair the Alchemy Tower. Fourth, the Alchemy Towers preyed on each other; those who were complacent would surely die.

“

“

These four points were all set by the Alchemists. What was their purpose?

“

“

The Goblin civilization used biotechnology to alter the Goblins’ physiological structure and bestow upon them the extraordinary talent of bloodline memory, thus preserving the heritage of the Goblin civilization. The even more powerful Alchemical Empire would have surely left behind a backup plan in its moment of life and death. The Alchemists’ design for the Alchemy Towers was meant to restore alchemical civilization.

“

“

After the King absorbed the Law Crystal from the Gloomy Forest, it had provided a detailed analysis of the data for Dragon Warriors and Savi Warriors. Did this mean that Alchemy Tower No. 7 could transcend the limitations of a Logistics Alchemy Tower and create combat units? If the goal was to restore alchemical civilization, then Alchemy Tower No. 7, once upgraded to its peak, would inevitably have to manifest the complete legacy of the Alchemists.

“

“

The Alchemists were undoubtedly powerful, but would the ancient great powers that destroyed the Alchemical Empire allow alchemical civilization to be rekindled from the ashes?

“

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Victor’s thoughts were incredibly clear at this moment, but his steps were incredibly heavy. The thought that he would one day have to face the enemies of the Alchemical Empire made him feel as if he had fallen into an icy abyss.

“

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“My lord, where are we going now?”

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Reno’s voice rang out beside him. Only then did Victor realize he had reached the gate of Hill Camp. He looked at Reno’s simple and honest face and praised him, “Big guy, you’re learning to ask questions on your own. That’s great progress.”

“

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Jack chimed in from the side, “My lord, I’d also like to ask, what are the arrangements for the new Alchemical Dragon-Lizard and Alchemical auxiliary soldiers?”

“

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Victor instructed, “The Alchemical Dragon-Lizard will go to the forward base in the Great Marsh. The Alchemical auxiliary soldiers will go to the mountain stronghold. Transfer one hundred Alchemical militia from the mountain stronghold. I will arrange for them to first blend in with the refugee labor force to obtain identities, then we’ll make other plans.”

“

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Sitting around and waiting for death was not Victor’s style. Since conflict was unavoidable, he would give it his all and actively prepare for war. With this personnel adjustment, six hundred Alchemical humans would be freed from heavy labor. This force was enough to propel the rapid development of The Golden Company, allowing them to form eighty smuggling caravans. While earning wealth and gathering strength, they also had to search for the ruins of other Alchemy Towers.

“

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Victor took a deep breath and said, “Jack, you stay at Hill Camp and handle matters with our new companions. Reno, we’re returning to Silver Moon Manor.”

“

“

Victor leaped into the saddle. The Swiftbird ruffled its feathers, gave a long cry, and took off on its powerful legs. The slow walk had long since made the great birds impatient. Victor let go of the reins, allowing the Swiftbird to gallop freely. The wind whistled past his ears, and the scenery on both sides blurred like a series of backward-scrolling paintings.

“

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The Swiftbird bounded over hills, leaped across mountain streams, and cut through thickets, arriving at Silver Moon Manor in just one hour.

“

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Victor could feel his mount’s powerful, vibrant heartbeat. He stroked its neck. “That was a good run, wasn’t it?” A pleased gurgle sounded from the Swiftbird’s throat. Victor dismounted, handed the reins to Reno behind him, and walked straight through the gate of the lord’s mansion.

“

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Two pretty, sweet house maids bowed to Victor and presented him with a clean, damp towel. Victor wiped his hands with the towel and asked, “Has Lady Nicole arrived yet?”

“

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Nicole wasn’t married, but everyone called her My Lady, the wife of Viscount Randell. The young maid took the towel and said softly, “Lady Nicole and the three other ladies are waiting for you in the second-floor lounge.”

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“Victor, you’re finally back!”

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“

Nicole’s lovely figure appeared behind the railing on the second floor of the great hall. She was dressed in the gorgeous ceremonial robes of the Viscount’s wife, her hair coiffed in the most fashionable noblewoman’s updo. A string of lustrous, round pearls adorned her creamy neck. Her delicate, three-dimensional features were touched with light makeup. Her radiant beauty and dignified, noble air outshone the three other beauties standing behind her.

“

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Victor strode up to the second floor and wrapped an arm around Nicole’s slender waist, smiling. “My dear, why so formal?”

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Nicole wriggled out of Victor’s grasp and took a step back, asking, “Am I beautiful?”

“

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“Extremely beautiful.”

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“The carriage is ready. Let’s leave now!”

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Nicole lifted her skirt and started down the stairs. Victor quickly grabbed her arm and said, “My dear, it takes over fifteen days to reach Goldwater City by carriage. You don’t need to be dressed like this for the ride, do you?”

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“I can change clothes in the carriage. It would be a real pity to miss the family ball.” Nicole shot Victor a look and lifted her sharp, charming chin. “I will absolutely not lose to Sophia!”

“

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“Hurry up and come along!”

“

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Nicole walked downstairs without looking back, her elegant, moving back exuding an unparalleled fighting spirit. The Elina sisters and Lilia covered their mouths, stifling their giggles.

“

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Looking at the four women, as beautiful as flowers, a heroic pride swelled in Victor’s chest.

“

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No matter who the opponent is, I will not admit defeat, I cannot lose, and I will never lose!

“

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“Which one of you will accompany me to the banquet at Rose Manor?”

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The three women’s expressions changed. It was unwise to get caught in the rivalry between Nicole and Sophia.

“

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“My lord, Narsen is in Goldwater City, and you and Sister Nicole are about to leave the territory. I must stay behind to look after the manor.” Lilia curtsied, shooting a quick glance at the Elina sisters, her triumphant expression like that of a little fox who had just stolen a hen.

“

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Elina bit her moist, cherry-like lips and said softly, “I have to stay at Silver Moon Manor to prepare for His Holiness the Pope’s visit. Alice is the family’s Liaison Officer. Let her accompany you.”

“

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“I… I…”

“

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Alice’s eyes darted about, unable to find an excuse. Victor grabbed her soft, smooth little hand and pulled her along in pursuit of Nicole.

Chapter 334: Rejection

“The envoy from the Kingdom of Borea is this generation’s Earl Ashlibor. The representative of the Kingdom of Sus is Princess Fenna, the younger sister of the Queen of Sus. The representative of the Kingdom of Naville is Marquess Faroul. The representative from the Kingdom of Ayr is the Paladin Constantine, an outstanding scion of the Trigoval family. The representative of the Dodor Kingdom is Viscount Negus. The Sasan Empire’s representative is Baroness Angie Decrian, oh, and the Sasan Empire also has a deputy envoy, Duke Monstock.”

All the carriage’s lattice windows were open, yet the inside remained unbearably stuffy. Alice, wearing only a thin chemise that revealed her lustrous arms and pale white legs, listlessly read from the list of foreign guests. She shook her head, and her wine-red hair danced like flames.

“How strange. A duke serving as a baroness’s deputy envoy. The Sassans truly have no sense of decorum.”

“The Sasan Empire is in the north, and its great families are of the orthodox lineage from the Iron Mountain Empire. From a geographical and historical perspective, they are the mainstream of the human world. In the eyes of the Sassans, we southern lords are all just country bumpkins. However, for the Sasan Empire to dispatch a baroness and a duke at the same time is indeed a bit peculiar,” Victor said, lying on a woven reed mat. He tried to conjure a breeze inside the carriage, but the wind was hot, too.

“Alice, you should spend a little more time on family heraldry. Baroness Angie’s husband is the heir to Bronze-Halberd City, her father is an earl from the direct line of the Moon Bear family, and her maternal grandmother is the Sasan Emperor’s paternal half-sister. Duke Monstock is a Gold Knight of the Sasan Empire, loyal to the Baselius family—descendants of the Iron Mountain imperial family—and he is also Baroness Angie’s maternal grandfather.”

Nicole was dressed in formal attire, sitting primly across from Victor with her slender, fair hands resting on her knees. Her words were chiding Alice, but her eyes blamed Victor.

“That complicated web of blood ties… This is why I hate noble heraldry.” Victor sat up, shrugged helplessly, then smiled. “Phoenix, darling, I’m so lucky to have you to help me.”

“Then I shall trouble my beautiful lady to explain the backgrounds of the other foreign guests.”

Nicole shot her lover a sideways glance, the corners of her lips turning up slightly. “Earl Ashlibor’s ancestor discovered the Seven Great Islands and was a founder of the Kingdom of Borea, but they are not Borea’s ruling family. They have prestige but no real power. The Kingdom of Borea sending Earl Ashlibor is merely a gesture to show they are not slighting us.”

“Princess Fenna is a Great Knight of the Silver-rank. She has no husband, but she has two children. The children’s fathers are Gold Knights from the Kingdom of Sus and the Kingdom of Naville, respectively. As an envoy, Princess Fenna can represent the will of the Queen of Sus.”

Victor was dumbfounded. “Her Highness Fenna Elayanuo has two Gold Knight lovers? Didn’t they fight?”

“No. Usually, after the child is born, the relationship with the lover ends.” Nicole pursed her lips and said, “Her Highness Fenna currently has no partner. What do you think her purpose is in visiting?”

“Heh heh, the weather is nice today…” Victor tactfully changed the subject.

Nicole shook her head and continued, “Marquess Faroul of Naville is also a Gold Knight. His status in Naville is the same as Marquess Golan’s.”

“A vassal knight of the Naville Royal Family.”

Victor nodded, took Nicole’s slender hand, and said sincerely, “Nicole, you’ve worked hard.”

Nicole was extremely diligent. She had spent five years resonating with twelve mid-level Elemental Nodes and was now only a step away from Silver-rank. For someone with her bloodline, this progress could be called lightning-fast. In addition to that, Nicole had expended a great deal of vigor on the dull and tedious study of family heraldry, which was the foundation for a lord to conduct diplomacy with the nobility. In fact, Nicole had always been playing the role of Viscountess Randell, striving to keep up with Victor and offer her lover any help within her power.

The Trial of Life and Death with the Old Ogre had borne witness to their affection. Nicole’s love for Victor was as pure as crystal, without a single impurity. Victor never expressed his gratitude to Nicole, because any words of thanks would be a negation and an insult to her.

The two exchanged a look and smiled, a moment of warm, tacit understanding that needed no words.

Victor collected his thoughts and began, “The envoys of the various kingdoms have come to the Centaur Hills for no more than three reasons: New Agro-husbandry, the barbarians, and the port. The Kingdom of Borea is easy to defend and hard to attack, has abundant food, and has mastered the technology for building ports and ships. The Boreans think we have need of them, so sending an earl envoy in name only is merely to show respect to the Queen of Roses. We can ignore him.”

“Princess Fenna and Sylvia are cousins. Whatever her purpose may be, Sylvia will naturally handle it.”

“Constantine is a Paladin of the religious inquisition, representing the Radiant Knights. His mission should be to observe the barbarians and, while he’s at it, put some pressure on Sophia. However, with the Pope here, it’s not his place to act presumptuously.”

“Marquess Faroul of Naville and Duke Monstock of the Sasan Empire are both Pinnacle Knights.” Victor tapped his cheek with a finger and said, “As Gold Knights, their status is distinguished. Their personal visit to the Centaur Hills gives the York family sufficient face, so of course they will be treated with favor by Sylvia. Naville has many mountains and little land, so they are most eager to gain experience in constructing water projects. Duke Monstock is loyal to the Baselius family, and the Baselius family occupies the western territories of the Sasan Empire. Green wheat doesn’t grow there, so the western Sasan lords are also desperate to introduce the New Agro-husbandry. Therefore, the goal of both these excellencies is to acquire the New Agro-husbandry technology.”

“Food is always the most important issue.”

Victor shook his head and smiled. “For the scholars of the Baselius family to require the personal protection of Duke Monstock, this shows just how deep the internal conflicts of the Sasan Empire run.”

“As for Baroness Angie…”

Victor mused, “She has Sasan Imperial Family blood, and she’s the wife of the young lord of Bronze-Halberd City. And Bronze-Halberd City is Sophia’s most important trading partner. I can conclude that Baroness Angie and Sophia have a good private relationship. She is here on behalf of the Sasan Imperial Family to discuss the matter of the barbarians with Sophia.”

“Viscount Negus most likely came looking for me.” Victor smiled and explained, “With the barbarians settling in Raven Town, our Dodor neighbors must make some kind of gesture.”

Just as he was speaking, the carriage began to speed up. Nicole glanced outside and said, “We’re about to arrive at Rose Manor. Alice, you should change your clothes.”

Alice stuck out her tongue, took out a towel to wipe the sweat from her body, and then changed into a clean, neat silk dress. She was not a senior knight like Nicole and was still susceptible to heat and cold. As for Victor’s attire, as long as Nicole was present, no one else needed to attend to it.

Silver Moon Manor was located near the farms west of Goldwater City, far from the crowded and noisy Rose Avenue. The surroundings were bucolic, and the roads were sparsely traveled, with hardly a carriage in sight.

The luxurious carriage sped along the tree-lined road. After a quarter of an hour, it finally stopped before the main gate of Rose Manor. Several young attendants brought out short wooden steps and placed them by the carriage door.

Victor was the first to step out of the carriage. He then politely extended an arm to help the two ladies down. The guards of Rose Manor opened the iron gate, and an old, white-haired steward came forward to greet them, bowing respectfully. “My lord, welcome back to Rose Manor.”

Nicole and Alice curtsied to the old steward. “Lord Mortis, good day.”

“The two ladies are of noble status. There is no need for such ceremony. I am not worthy of it,” the old steward said with a kindly smile.

Steward Mortis was originally a confidant knight of the old Duke York and now served only Sylvia. His title was not high, but he was the leader of the York family’s secret knights, in charge of their spies and death commandos. Even the Silver Knights of the York family would not slight this old knight. Nicole, her sister Elina, and Lilia had all received their education as noblewomen from Lord Mortis’s wife, so they naturally held the old steward in high esteem.

Victor was not the master of the York family, but he was certainly the master of Rose Manor. He smiled faintly and asked casually, “Mortis, where is Sylvia now?”

“My Lady is entertaining two honored guests in the second-floor bedroom. My Lady instructed that if you returned, my lord, you should go directly there. There is no need to be reserved,” Mortis said with the utmost respect.

Victor nodded and, with Nicole and Alice, followed Steward Mortis toward the manor’s main house. As soon as they entered the living room, they saw a petite but exquisitely beautiful young woman.

“Lady Trisley, good day.” Victor hurriedly bowed to Sylvia’s trusted confidante. This ice beauty was Nicole’s tutor.

Trisley gave a cold nod in return, then glared at Nicole and said, “Phoenix, you’re actually wearing a Viscountess’s ceremonial robes. Don’t you find it hot? You come with me, I have something to say to you. Alice, you come along as well.”

Nicole pouted, hung her head, and followed Trisley into another room with Alice.

Fend for yourself, my dear Nicole.

Victor shrugged and, under Steward Mortis’s guidance, went up to the second floor. Just as he reached the bedroom door, Sylvia’s pleasant voice flowed into his very heart, “Darling, please come in.”

Steward Mortis gently pushed the door open, bowed, and took his leave.

Inside the room, Sylvia and two beautiful ladies were sitting opposite each other. When they saw Victor enter, they rose gracefully. Sylvia came forward, gave Victor a kiss without any reservation, and led him by the hand to the two ladies, introducing them. “Darling, this is the sister of Her Majesty Elayanuo, Princess Fenna, and this is Princess Shireen, the daughter of Her Majesty Elayanuo and His Highness Medin.”

Princess Fenna wore a black dress and a silver coronet. She had chestnut hair and violet eyes, a tall and voluptuous figure, and firm skin. Her snow-white, flawless face was beautiful and serene. Princess Shireen wore a long dress of blue silk. Her figure was tall and well-proportioned, and her features were delicate. Her slightly tanned skin shone with the captivating luster of jade, which, combined with her soft, shining black hair, gave her a unique and unforgettable charm. But Princess Shireen had a pure air about her; upon seeing Victor, she averted her gaze, appearing quite shy, just like Nicole in her younger days.

Princess Fenna extended her right hand to Victor and said with a lovely smile, “Your Excellency Randell, it’s a pleasure to meet you. You are even more handsome than I imagined.”

Victor knelt on one knee, took Princess Fenna’s delicate hand, and lightly kissed her knuckles, complimenting her, “Your Highness Fenna, it is my honor to meet you.”

Princess Shireen lifted the hem of her skirt, curtsied slightly, and then extended her small hand to Victor. This was clearly against etiquette. Victor was taken aback for a moment, but he still performed the hand-kiss and said, “Honored Princess, may your youth be everlasting and your beauty eternal.”

“Thank you, Your Excellency Randell. I will definitely achieve the extraordinary,” Shireen said with a blush, hiding behind Princess Fenna.

Victor was struck speechless. Sylvia pulled him down to sit on the sofa and said, “Shireen is seventeen this year and has already resonated with twenty-three Elemental Nodes. She is not only a Knight of a high-tier bloodline but also an outstanding smith.”

A smith was not a rarity, but to be called outstanding by Sylvia was rare indeed. For a pampered princess to become a smith at the age of seventeen spoke volumes of Shireen’s character. Victor immediately felt a sense of respect.

“Your Excellency Randell, we bring greetings from Her Majesty the Queen. Her Majesty entrusted us with a gift for you,” Princess Fenna said with a smile. Shireen retrieved a long wooden box from the side of the sofa, opened the lid, and held up an exquisitely crafted metal bow. In a soft voice, she said, “This is a Mithril bow I forged myself. I hope you will like it.”

The metal bow was silver-white all over. The recurve limbs were cleverly forged into the shape of wings. Once an arrow was nocked and the bow drawn, it resembled a falcon diving with folded wings, possessing an extreme artistic beauty. Victor exclaimed in admiration, “It’s very beautiful. Surely it has a name.”

“The Silver Wing Bow.”

A look of pride appeared on Shireen’s face. She said, “The Silver Wing Bow uses Dragonbone Steel for its limbs and a string made of drawn Mithril wire. Its maximum flight distance is 760 meters, with an effective range of 420 meters and a maximum lethal range of 280 meters. In Your Excellency’s hands, its performance will at least double.”

“Darling, why don’t you try it?”

Sylvia took out a pair of Adamantine finger tabs and handed them over. Victor put them on, stood up, and pulled with all his might. Tense, dense lines of muscle appeared on his arm, and the slight breeze around the bowstring gradually turned into a deep blue stream of air. Princess Shireen’s eyes lit up, and a hint of flirtatiousness appeared in Princess Fenna’s gaze.

“I… can’t draw it.”

Victor only managed to pull the bow halfway before releasing the string. He shook his head and sighed, “The Silver Wing Bow has an 830-pound draw weight. I can only use a 380-pound bow.” He placed the bow back in the wooden box and added regretfully, “I’m very sorry, I truly cannot use the Silver Wing Bow.”

Shireen’s small mouth was agape as she stared blankly at Victor’s conflicted face. Mist began to form in her beautiful almond-shaped eyes. She lowered her head to hide her disappointment, but her small, wringing hands betrayed her feelings.

A sense of guilt immediately filled Victor’s heart. He hurriedly comforted her, “Your Highness, this is not your fault. The Silver Wing is a fine bow worthy of being passed down through generations. It’s mainly because I’m… not strong enough.”

“Victor, I am the one who should apologize,” Princess Fenna said apologetically. “I was not aware of your strength. I could only use the biography of Sword Saint Draven as a reference and have Shireen forge this Silver Wing Bow.”

“How can I compare to a Sword Saint? I have disappointed you and Princess Shireen,” Victor said with a faint smile.

“No. When the Sword Saint used a heavy bow, he was merely a Wind Walk Archer who could manifest the wind element.” Princess Fenna pointed to her long hair and said charmingly, “Back then, he had black hair and black eyes, just like you, but his strength was in no way inferior to a senior knight’s.”

“The Sword Saint was exceptionally talented… or perhaps he was a Ferocious warrior.”

“That’s not it either.” Fenna gently bit her full, red lip and said with a small smile, “Everyone thought the Sword Saint had an affinity for the wind and fire elements. In fact, he also had an affinity for the water element, though it was not outwardly apparent. The affinity for the water element gave Draven astonishing strength and a tough physique. When he shifted to his golden-haired, golden-eyed form, his strength and physical resilience were comparable to a peak Silver Knight’s. However, this is an active talent of the High Elves. His Majesty Draven called it ‘Surge’.”

“According to Draven’s records, the prerequisite for using Surge is the ability to mobilize the water element within one’s body. And our Sus Royal Family happens to possess a combat technique scroll for Surge.”

From the corner of his eye, Victor saw Sylvia’s tranquil and beautiful expression and instantly understood. Sylvia must have told the Sus royal family about his Activation talent. Only Princess Shireen had been kept in the dark, but she should have understood the reason by now.

“That is truly a pity. I am unable to mobilize the water element within my body,” Victor said, his expression unchanged.

Tears immediately welled up in Shireen’s eyes. Fenna gave Victor a deep look, her eyes holding surprise, admiration, and a trace of alluring charm. She rose to her feet, placed a hand on Princess Shireen’s shoulder, and smiled. “Shireen is a little tired. I’ll take her to rest first. Please excuse us.”

Before leaving, Shireen turned back and said to Victor, “Victor, whether you like the Silver Wing or not, I will adjust it to a level you can use.”

Looking at Shireen’s stubborn expression, Victor sighed inwardly. His half-elven appearance always caused him a lot of misunderstandings.

“Shireen has a noble bloodline, and she’s both cute and beautiful. You shouldn’t have rejected her,” Sylvia said leisurely, taking a sip of coffee.

“What kind of logic is it to push your own man away?” Victor said irritably. “I have more than enough women already. I don’t want any more trouble.”

“It’s not really that much trouble. Princess Shireen would accompany you in the Randell Fief for ten years. Regardless of whether she becomes pregnant, she must return to the Sus royal court. If she does get pregnant, she will become the first in line for the throne. The Kingdom of Sus has prepared a generous dowry for Princess Shireen. Besides the Surge combat technique, there are a full three hundred grams of Mithril, and Cynthia will also dispatch artisans to help us build a port. I hope you will reconsider,” Sylvia said, trying hard to persuade him.

Her living in the Randell Fief is the real problem. How can I allow an outsider to peek at my secrets! Victor said coldly, “In ten years, my woman will be in the arms of another man? My child will call someone else ‘father’? I am not a High-ranked Knight, and I don’t make bloodline deals. My women can only be protected by me. It’s as simple as that.”

Sylvia frowned. “Surge might allow your bloodline to advance further. If you could reproduce the Sword Saint’s glory, Shireen would surely never leave you.”

“I can figure out the Surge technique on my own.”

Victor raised his voice, “Also, I studied architectural design under Master Edwin for three years, and the Master praised my talent endlessly. With Master Edwin and me working together, it’s not impossible for us to design a port ourselves!”

Sylvia didn’t speak, just nodded gently.

The beautifying traits from his Moon Elf bloodline could only fool young girls; they were ineffective against senior high-ranking female knights. But his affinity for the wind element was especially attractive to high-ranking female knights.

Chapter 335: Divergence

Sylvia, draped in a pink gossamer gown, reclined on the comfortable bed. Her delicate hand propped up her cheek, and her hair, a cascade of gold, spilled over the reed-woven pillow. She watched with great interest as Victor tried on a full suit of leather armor.

The armor’s design wasn’t particularly exquisite, but it was a perfect fit, outlining the contours of Victor’s body and lending it a fluid aesthetic. The bluish-black leather had a metallic sheen. When he ran a finger across its surface, it was silent and matte, yet a sense of extreme toughness registered in his mind.

A faint breeze swirled around the armor, and Victor felt as if he had lost all weight. With a light push from his feet, he leaped two meters into the air. He pressed a hand gently against the ceiling, changing direction in mid-air to drift backward before landing lightly on the floor.

“It’s simple and fluid, with no hindrance to movement. It’s like a part of my body,” Victor commented as he began to take off the armor.

“This is Itugos leather armor. Its thickness and resilience surpass that of ordinary Dragon-Lizard leather armor. My Great Knights treat it like a priceless treasure, and Roland parades around in his all day. And yet you’re so nonchalant?” Sylvia said in a tone of mock complaint. “You didn’t care about the Mithril bow or the Sword Saint techniques either. I really don’t know what kind of treasure could possibly move you.”

The strength of the Itugos leather armor couldn’t compare to the carapace of a Silver Ant-man, let alone the superior Thorium Ant-man armor. But he couldn’t tell Sylvia that, at least not yet.

Victor glanced at his enchanting lover and teased, “My dear, I am only moved by you.” With that, he finished removing the armor and shook his head. “I’m a Wind Walk Archer, not a High-ranked Knight. A Mithril bow and Giant Aberration hide armor aren’t that significant for me.”

The way a Great Knight manifested the void element was completely different from a Wind Walk Archer, and the effects were markedly different as well.

A Knight’s Elemental Node was like a converter. During Aura resonance, it continuously absorbed free-floating void elements, gradually altering the Knight’s physical constitution while strengthening their four major attributes. Once the conversion speed of the void elements surpassed the upper limit of the Elemental Node, they would manifest, granting the High-ranked Knight incredible extraordinary abilities. Elemental attachment was the most common and effective application of the void element.

Unlike organic matter, metallic objects possessed strong Elemental Resistance. To reduce the loss of Aura, High-ranked Knights widely used equipment made of Mithril. However, the void wind element did not possess the properties of sturdy armor. Thus, Hurricane Knights didn’t wear Mithril plate but were instead equipped with Mithril bows, Mithril swords, and high-quality leather armor.

Victor only needed to accelerate a breeze to manifest the void wind element. In this process, his vigor consumption remained unchanged; Mithril equipment merely sped up the manifestation and increased its duration. His physical attributes received no enhancement whatsoever. Even if a heavy crossbow couldn’t pierce his Thorium Ant-man armor, the terrifying impact force would still cause him serious injury.

Although a Wind Walk Archer’s body was fragile, their control over the breeze allowed them to evade a High-ranked Knight’s elemental Perception. Therefore, Wind Walk Archers were more stealthy and dangerous than Hurricane Knights, even capable of troubling a Gold Knight. For Victor, a Wind Walk Archer who moved like a phantom, concealing himself was far more important than sustained shooting. If his opponent was a powerful monster, a single, charged shot with a Mithril arrow would suffice. If his opponent was a Pinnacle Knight, he couldn’t manifest the void wind element at all, or he would expose his position. In truth, for a Wind Walk Archer, a Mithril bow and Giant Aberration hide armor were merely icing on the cake—nice to have, but not essential.

Victor created a breeze to cool himself down; trying on the heavy leather armor had made him break out in a sweat.

Sylvia decided to comfort her lover with a tangible gesture. She rose gracefully, her feet, whiter than snow, padding across the floor. She picked up a ceramic cup filled with fresh water and handed it to Victor.

Taking the cup, he felt an immediate chill. Victor took a surprised sip. The ice-cold water slid down his throat, instantly dispelling the unbearable heat of summer.

“A little trick for applying the void water element.”

Sylvia explained casually, then sighed, “My dear, you should have accepted the Queen of Sus’s conditions. The Surge talent would make you as resilient as a Knight. With that and the Itugos leather armor, you would have the ability to face enemies head-on.”

“Since Surge is a natural talent of the Moon Elf bloodline, I can master it on my own with some exploration. Let’s talk about business for now.”

Victor smiled faintly, wrapping an arm around Sylvia’s slender waist and sitting down on the sofa. A Gold Knight could evidently alter the environment immediately around them; just sitting close to her, he could feel a cool and pleasant air.

“Are Sophia and the barbarians in Raven Town?” he asked.

Sylvia said, “The barbarians and the Sacred Warriors are stationed in Raven Town. The Glory Knights and two thousand cavalry retainers are staying in Soren’s Viscounty. Sophia and the barbarian Elder have already returned to Goldwater City. Harald is being personally escorted by the Pontiff and Williams to watch the military tournament. Sophia is with Princess Anqi. Once the tournament is over, all the distinguished guests will tour the first sluice gate and Rose Lake. The House of Randell needs to be ready to entertain them. If you don’t have enough attendants, I can lend you some.”

“No need, Elina and Lilia have everything prepared.” Victor shook his head, then frowned. “The Glory Knights aren’t stationing themselves in Raven Town? No wonder I haven’t received a land requisition order from the Royal Family.”

“Sophia invited the barbarians as guests in her capacity as the lady of Raven Town. What reason would the Royal Family have to issue you a land requisition order? If she had used her status as a marquess and a vassal of the royal family to settle the barbarians, then the Royal Family would have had to get involved.” Sylvia eyed Victor strangely, asking with suspicion, “Why do I get the feeling you would have welcomed the Glory Knights?”

“I hear the Glory Knights are all rich. Wherever rich people stay, that place prospers. If they stayed for ten years, Raven Town’s defenses and infrastructure would improve by leaps and bounds, and my subjects would earn a small fortune.” Victor’s face was full of regret. “What a pity.”

Sylvia噗嗤一笑,说道”亲爱的,你果然与众不同.除了钱,难道你没有发现更重要的事情吗?"

“Is something wrong?” Victor asked, looking lost.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

Sylvia shook her head with a faint smile, deliberately changing the subject. “The Glory Knights’ garrison is still 140 kilometers from Raven Town, and the King of Dodor has already moved half of the Iron Wall Knights and a Gold Knight to the northern border of Viscount Negus’s territory, 180 kilometers from Raven Town. What do you think would happen if the Glory Knights had moved into Raven Town?”

Victor was taken aback. After a moment of thought, he shook his head. “Nothing would happen. The alliance with the barbarians concerns the interests of the entire human world; the Church would never allow anyone to sabotage this cooperation. Even if we can’t build the port, the Radiant Knights and the Curia will surely pressure the Kingdom of Borea to ensure the barbarians can cross the river at any time. I believe whether the barbarians cross the river depends entirely on their own will.”

“The arrangements of the two royal families are just a precaution. It’s impossible for them to actually fight.”

“So isn’t it better that the Glory Knights aren’t coming?” Sylvia said lightly.

If the Glory Knights didn’t come to the Centaur Hills, the York family would inevitably have to take over Raven Town’s defense. The Rose Knights and the Fanged Legion would move north, and the Dodor Kingdom would still mobilize the Iron Wall Knights in response. This would greatly reduce the pressure on the Northern Commanderies of Gambis, and the Gambis Royal Family could save a large sum in military funds. Logically, the York family should have used this opportunity to demand that the Dodor Kingdom open up its stone quarry for trade, and the Friedrich family, under pressure from the Church, would have had no choice but to compromise.

A flash of inspiration struck Victor. “The Glory Knights are purchasing stone materials from Viscount Negus?”

“Yes.” Sylvia nodded. “A steady stream of stone from Viscount Negus is flowing into the Glory Knights’ garrison. Soren has recruited four thousand laborers to build a castle, and our neighbor, Duke Nimes, is secretly guiding refugees into Soren’s Viscounty. Before long, Soren will have over ten thousand laborers at his disposal. What they are building is not a castle, but a giant fortress.”

“A fortress can be built slowly, and once it’s done, they can build a city. As long as the Glory Knights don’t leave, we have no way of bypassing the Royal Family to obtain stone.”

Victor chuckled. “Monopolizing the stone supply in the Centaur Hills is Grand Duke Williams’s goal. A pity he doesn’t know we have iron bricks.”

“You underestimate Grand Duke Williams.” Sylvia shot Victor a sidelong glance. “Lately, Williams has been frequently summoning representatives from the major families, especially the southern lords. That includes your lover, Young Lady Gillian.”

“Does he want that port?”

Sylvia nodded, then gave a disdainful laugh. “Moving the Glory Knights into the Centaur Hills is both to intimidate us and to show the other lords that the Auguste family is capable of controlling the situation. Now, as long as the southern lords refuse to provide stone, we won’t be able to build the port. Then, Williams will propose trading Soren’s Viscounty for Phoenix’s barony, taking over the construction and defense of the southern fortress in the process.”

“What a fantasy. The port and the sluice gate are connected. How could we possibly hand over the lifeline of our water project to the Auguste family?” Victor sneered.

“Of course we would never agree.” Sylvia stared into Victor’s eyes and said calmly, “But don’t forget, the Fishmen on the riverbanks of the Chapman territory were also cleared out by an ant swarm. And that was the method you taught Gillian.”

The lands of the Southern Continent held immense attraction for the lords, but the risks of pioneering were also great. The York family had to unite all the families to pioneer together. With a port, the York family would have the most influence, and the other families would have no choice but to rally around them—a situation the Gambis Royal Family could not tolerate.

The Auguste family was fully capable of building a port in cooperation with the Chapman family, but Grand Duke Williams wasn’t satisfied. He wanted to isolate the York family to expand the Royal Family’s influence and strengthen the royal family’s leadership.

The Southern Continent had vast swathes of land, and building a port was the first step to claiming it. I offered a viscounty in exchange for a port, but the York family refused; they clearly want to hog all the profits. Since that’s the case, everyone should follow me. We’ll build a port in the Chapman territory, and our Auguste family will lead you all in pioneering the Southern Continent.

The lords of Gambis were no fools; Williams’s political machinations were an open secret. However, the Chapman family was clearly much easier to deal with than the powerful York family. Moreover, the Royal Family possessed legitimacy and righteous authority, a status that was deeply ingrained in the people’s hearts. Since they wouldn’t be directly controlling the port like the York family, the major powers would naturally choose to support Grand Duke Williams.

Earl Chepman would not welcome the Royal Family’s interference in his family’s territory, but building a port and expanding south had become the grand tide of affairs. He could neither resist the pressure from all sides nor the temptation of the benefits. The Chapman family’s only choice was to form a marital alliance with the Auguste family, replace House Sorim, and become the leading family of the south.

Victor’s expression shifted unpredictably before finally returning to a calm facade. Sylvia asked with a half-smile, “Are you upset at the thought of Gillian entering a political marriage with the royal family?”

Victor gave a bitter smile. “Of course I’m upset. And it feels even worse to think that I was the one who pushed her into another’s arms.”

“However, she won’t change our established strategy, and we are capable of building the port on our own.”

Sylvia kissed Victor’s cheek, her voice filled with delight. “I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me, my dear.” She paused, her gaze turning sharp. “But I have no intention of just letting us be isolated like this.”

“Have you figured out how to break this setup?” Victor asked.

“I don’t want to get rid of the Auguste family, nor do I care about leadership, but the York family must occupy the most fertile lands and the richest resources.”

Sylvia continued, “Marquess Faroul is still in Goldwater City. Master Edwin will accompany him back to the Kingdom of Naville to help their people design stream reservoirs. Let Williams have his moment of triumph for two years. When we are at our wits’ end, the Kingdom of Naville will raise the price of refined iron and drastically reduce Gambis’s quota. Then, it will be our turn to use refined iron to get iron powder, produce iron bricks, and build our port. By then, the major families will make the wise choice.”

The method was simple, yet effective. The York family, forced into a corner, would have to “invent” expensive iron bricks as a substitute for stone. The other powers, needing refined iron and realizing they couldn’t stop the York family from building the port, would opt for active cooperation, trying to acquire the iron brick manufacturing process in the process. However, Sophia’s merchant association was already struggling in Dodor. If it also lost the refined iron trade with Naville, the collapse of the Stag Merchants’ Guild would be almost certain.

Victor frowned. “Then Sophia’s business will be finished.”

“Wouldn’t it be wonderful for Sophia to just be your wife?” Sylvia said coolly. “The Purple Cane wine and raw sugar are also bargaining chips for our negotiations with the Auguste family. They can use them to rebuild a merchant guild, while Sophia and her fortune will belong to us.”

Victor was silent for a moment before speaking. “A two-year buffer is enough for us to absorb the population, and the refined iron trade and iron bricks can break the stalemate. But there’s another very important strategic resource that’s been overlooked. If the Auguste family realizes it, our plans will be seriously affected.”

“What resource?”

“Charcoal. To be precise, the Thornwood charcoal from around the Gloomy Forest.”

“Charcoal?” Sylvia furrowed her brow in thought. “How important do you think the charcoal from the Gloomy Forest is?”

How important? One only needed to look at the oil resources on Earth to know how important high-quality charcoal was.

“It’s worth fighting a war over,” Victor said grimly.

“You’re right, but surely it won’t actually come to war.” Sylvia smiled winsomely. “My dear, you must have a countermeasure already.”

Victor shrugged. “The countermeasure is to secretly stockpile charcoal, and also to plant Oilwood forests and other fast-growing trees.”

“Good. I’ll leave this matter to you.” Sylvia linked her arm through Victor’s, her red lips brushing against his ear as she chuckled. “My dear, you’re my man. You can’t expect me to solve everything, can you?”

Victor was at a loss for whether to laugh or cry. “Are you out of money again?” he asked.

Sylvia sighed helplessly. “This military tournament isn’t even over yet, and we’ve already recruited over six hundred scions of noble families. We need three thousand cleansing potions and six hundred Vigor Potions. The cost of the medicinal herbs alone exceeds three hundred thousand Gold Sol. And that’s not including the cost of entertaining our guests. How could I possibly have any money left?”

“By the way, the finals of the military tournament are this afternoon. Are you going to watch?”

“Of course.” Victor nodded, then said hesitantly, “Nicole and Alice…”

“They are staying at Rose Manor.” Sylvia’s tone was unequivocal. “As you requested, I have selected sixty noble scions for the House of Randell. Nicole and Alice are responsible for evaluating them.”

“Alright. I’ll go by myself.”

Sophia was a crucial part of Sylvia’s plan, and Sylvia would not allow anyone to interfere with Sophia’s decisions. Yet, before The Golden Company was strong enough, Victor couldn’t allow Sophia and the Stag Merchants’ Guild to collapse either.

How could such a contradiction be resolved?

Just before boarding the carriage, Victor glanced back at the main building of Rose Manor, his eyes growing deep and unfathomable.

Chapter 336: A Chance Encounter

Goldwater City was exceptionally crowded. All manner of vehicles formed a long queue, and Victor’s carriage was stuck on the road leading out of the city. The two draft horses pulling the carriage snorted with agitation, their iron-shod hooves restlessly stamping the ground. With a flick of their tails, they dropped a pile of manure.

Animals were animals, after all. They cared nothing for Goldwater City’s sanitation ordinances, relieving themselves whenever and wherever they pleased. The workers responsible for cleaning the streets had no way of breaking through the heavy traffic to do their jobs and could only wait until nightfall to clear the roads. The wide Rose Avenue was filled with the neighing of horses and the lowing of oxen. The road surface was slick with filth and wastewater, and flies swarmed everywhere, making it seem like a stinking livestock market.

Victor was filled with regret. In a moment of foolishness, he had decided he wanted to inspect Goldwater City’s urban planning and had chosen Amber Street, which led to the East Gate, instead of heeding Steward Mortis’s advice to leave through the West Gate near the city’s farmstead. As a result, he was now stuck smelling the stench on Rose Avenue.

In the face of a massive traffic jam, everyone was equal. At a time like this, noble status and lordly privileges were useless. As long as you couldn’t fly over it, you had to queue up obediently.

Given the current situation, it would be some time before he could leave the city. Victor simply drew the carriage curtain and began to carefully deliberate on the new state of affairs the barbarians had brought about.

Sylvia had surmised the Auguste family’s intentions with the greatest malice. She believed Grand Duke Williams would isolate the York family, unite the local powers, and seize the initiative in building the port and expanding south.

In truth, much of Sylvia’s judgment was subjective speculation. For instance, the possibility of Grand Duke Williams proposing a land swap was minuscule. However, the Auguste family would most certainly build the port in Earl Chapman’s domain, and the five great lords of Gambis would undoubtedly support the Royal Family.

The Centaur Hills had developed too quickly, and the York family’s achievements were enough to make others see red. Behind the great lords’ envy, jealousy, and hate was a deep-seated wariness of the York family.

This meant that the York family was bound to be ostracized, whether overtly or covertly. Sylvia could not allow the situation to develop in a negative direction. The core of her plan to break the impasse was to ally with the Kingdom of Naville, control the refined iron trade in Gambis, force the various great families back to the negotiating table, and ultimately achieve all her strategic goals.

For the Kingdom of Naville, barbarian allies, port construction, and southern expansion had nothing to do with them; achieving food self-sufficiency was their most pressing need. As long as the York family could help Naville complete the establishment of its New Agro-husbandry system, what did it matter if they cut off Gambis’s supply of refined iron? Moreover, the York family had stockpiled a massive amount of refined iron ore. If Naville rejected Sylvia’s terms, she could smash the price of refined iron to rock bottom, and Naville’s losses would be immense.

The York family was determined to monopolize the refined iron market of Gambis, and the people of Naville would have to agree, whether they liked it or not. Without refined iron to make arrows and crossbow bolts, how could the lords of Gambis even talk of expanding into the Southern Continent? The York family proposed trading refined iron for raw iron, and the lords would have no choice but to accept. The York family could then produce rock bricks and build the port, while the Royal Family could only watch helplessly. In the Senate meeting, Sylvia had outwardly accepted the kingdom’s leadership, but behind the scenes, she was demanding the largest share of the profits, and Williams would have to accept it, even if he had to hold his nose.

In another twenty years, when the water project in the Centaur Hills was complete, its defenses established, and its aberrant war beasts fully developed, the York family would have a port and rock bricks. They would be able to attack or defend at will, and no one would be able to touch them. If their luck held and another Gold Knight guardian appeared after Sylvia, they might not be able to found a new kingdom, but they could certainly stand on equal footing with the Auguste family, much like the relationship between the Baselius family and the Sasan Imperial Family.

The Auguste family’s bloodline was extraordinary, producing Gold Knights in an endless stream, and it was this extraordinary bloodline that formed the foundation of the royal family’s enduring prosperity. In comparison, the York family’s bloodline was somewhat inferior. Sylvia was clearly aware of this, which was why she had adopted a more flexible strategy.

Regardless, it was a flawless, overt scheme that went with the flow. Victor marveled at Sylvia’s brilliant plan, but at the same time, he found himself distressed.

As a lord aligned with the Centaur Hills, Victor should have been in lockstep with Sylvia, but his ambitions—or rather, his troubles—were far greater than hers.

Initially, Victor had wanted to form a massive armed force for self-preservation and gradually sideline the Alchemy Tower. But the tower’s soul-binding and the flaws of the Leasehold Employment System had made him change his strategy. He began to focus all his efforts on expanding the smuggling caravan’s influence and actively searching for Law Crystals. However, Sylvia planned to cut off the refined iron trade between Gambis and Naville in two years and use the rights to the Purple Cane wine and raw sugar businesses as bargaining chips to trade for Sophia’s freedom from the Auguste family. This would cause the Stag Merchants’ Guild to collapse rapidly, and Victor’s plans for developing the Golden Company would be thwarted.

Victor was now deeply conflicted. On the one hand, Alchemy Tower #7 required a continuous stream of funds, and he was also preparing to use the smuggling caravan to explore the tower’s ruins. On the other hand, Victor could not give up on rock bricks either.

Alchemy Tower #7 could not be moved and needed the protection of a rock brick fortress. But the implications of producing rock bricks were too great. Victor needed the York family as a cover to produce them, and the York family, in turn, needed the barbarians as their cover.

If the Auguste family began construction of the port first, Sophia would one hundred percent invest her funds in Earl Chapman’s domain, and the barbarians would also leave the Centaur Hills. Having lost both financial support and the banner of the barbarians, Sylvia would have no choice but to first complete the water project and then wait for the aberrant war beasts to mature before she could even consider the matter of rock bricks and a port.

Therefore, Sophia was the key figure. Both Grand Duke Williams and Sylvia were doing their utmost to win her over. And I am the one who has to push her away…

A noisy clamor of shouts and scuffling erupted outside the carriage. Victor rubbed his temples, pulled open the curtain, and saw several people brawling by the side of the road.

“What’s going on?” Victor asked Gru, the Captain of the Personal Guard, who had approached.

“My lord, a bard was just chasing your carriage, singing for you, and he bumped into another bard. They exchanged a few words and started fighting,” Gru said with a cheerful grin.

Victor vaguely remembered someone singing “The Legend of Tristan and Isolde” in a lilting voice just a moment ago, but he had been lost in thought and hadn’t paid the bard any mind. The bard had clearly been trying to capture the attention of a noble and had followed the carriage, accidentally angering a peer, which led to the dispute.

When the two groups saw that the viscount’s carriage curtain had been drawn, their brawling and shouting became even more spectacular. The bards struggled to maintain an elegant demeanor while trading insults in richly rhythmic language, not a single curse word passing their lips, nor a single phrase repeated. Meanwhile, their retainers traded fists and kicks, their faces bruised and swollen, but neither side was willing to back down.

Victor frowned and ordered, “Give them a bit of money and tell them to disperse.”

Gru rode his Swiftbird over to the small crowd and, looking down from his mount, tossed a coin purse to the ground. The two bards bowed to the carriage from a distance, picked up the purse, divided the gold coins within, and led their retainers off in different directions.

Bards were often the children of fallen noble families. Their exhaustive performances were merely an attempt to attract the attention of a person of consequence, to gain an opportunity to be recognized, or to earn a simple reward. On the same street, their efforts and cleverness only highlighted the bitter hardship of the small fry, a truly lamentable sight.

Watching the bards and their retainers walk away in high spirits, Victor tapped the window frame and said, half in self-mockery, half in genuine sentiment, “To think that I, in my carriage, am moving slower than them on foot.”

Gru glanced at the endless line of vehicles and suggested, “My lord, you could get out and ride a Swiftbird. We can take a detour and leave through the West Gate. That would be much faster.”

“Then I’d have to abandon my carriage.”

Victor chuckled. “Gru, if we leave, my carriage and coachman will still be stuck here. If I want to ride in it again, I’ll have to come back.”

“But the finals of the military tournament are about to begin. If we don’t hurry, I’m afraid we’ll miss the exciting matches,” Gru urged again. “My lord, the carriage won’t get lost. Nitt will drive it out of the city.”

“This isn’t a choice; it’s escapism!”

Victor clenched his fist and murmured, “Escaping a problem is easy; solving it requires courage and wisdom. I, in my carriage, will move faster than a bard on foot.”

“Gru, take your men forward. Have all westbound carriages pull to the side of the road, then block every intersection to prevent other carriages from entering Rose Avenue.”

One-Eyed Dragon looked troubled. “My lord, this isn’t Laketon. Will those carriages obey my orders?”

“Where are we?” Victor asked with a smile.

“Goldwater City.”

“And what are you riding?”

“Swiftbirds.”

“That’s enough,” Victor said coolly. “Carry out your orders.”

“As you command. Follow me!”

Gru shouted to the personal guard, and dozens of Swiftbird light cavalry rode against the flow of traffic, directing the westbound carriages to the side of the road. They then blocked the intersections, preventing vehicles from other roads from pouring into Rose Avenue. Before long, the northbound traffic began to move faster and faster, and the House of Randell’s carriage gradually caught up to one of the bards.

At the intersection of Amber Street and Rose Avenue, a noble’s carriage came to a halt. A stern voice came from within.

“Why has the carriage stopped?”

An attendant replied, “My lord, the intersection is blocked. They won’t let us pass. They say we have to wait for their master to leave the city first before they’ll clear the way.”

“Who is so bold? Can’t you just whip them out of the way?” The master of the carriage sounded angry.

“My lord, it’s Viscount Randell’s Swiftbird light cavalry. And… well, Swiftbirds are naturally protective of their masters. If we get pecked by one of them, we won’t be able to take it,” the attendant explained with a pained expression.

“So it’s Victor…” A knight in leather armor stepped out of the carriage and said to the attendant with a smile, “Let’s stop his carriage too.”

Just as Victor was feeling secretly pleased with himself, his carriage slowly came to a stop. A young attendant knocked on the door and said, “My lord, Viscount Fredrick York and his wife request an audience.” He then added in a low voice, “We’ve blocked the Viscount and his wife’s carriage.”

“Fredrick and Audel?”

Astonished, Victor stepped down from the carriage and saw a nobleman and two noblewomen. The man was handsome and dashing, dressed in a well-fitted suit of Itugos leather armor. It was none other than the vice-commander of the Rose Knights, Viscount Fredrick York. The beautiful noblewoman with him, a stunning figure with blonde hair and blue eyes, was his wife, the Great Knight Lady Audel York. Standing beside the Viscount’s wife was a bright-eyed, lovely noble girl of about twelve, whose features resembled Audel’s—she had to be their daughter.

“Victor, what a coincidence. I was just worried I wouldn’t make it to the military tournament finals. It’s a good thing I ran into you. You don’t mind if we borrow your carriage, do you?”

Fredrick clapped Victor warmly on the shoulder, deftly defusing his embarrassment.

“The honor is all mine.” Victor nodded in greeting, then took the Viscount’s wife’s delicate hand and performed a hand-kiss. “Lady Audel, your beauty is captivating.”

“Does that include Lord Randell?” Audel giggled, covering her mouth. Her slender finger discreetly tickled Victor’s chin. She then pulled the little girl forward and introduced her, “This is our daughter, Anna.”

“Good day, Lord Randell,” Anna said, lifting the hem of her gauze skirt in a curtsy.

Victor’s eyes lit up. He smiled and said, “So you are Miss Anna? Lady Sylvia often speaks of you to me. She calls you the pearl of the York family.”

“Lady Sylvia is too kind,” Viscount Fredrick said with reserved pride. “Let’s get on the carriage first. We can talk as we go.”

Victor’s carriage was comfortable and spacious; even with four people seated, it did not feel crowded. The carriage moved slowly at first, then gradually picked up speed. Viscount Fredrick looked out the window at the carriages that had pulled over to the side of the road and sighed, “This is the first time I’ve ever encountered a traffic jam like this. If you hadn’t taken action, we probably would have had to ride to the event.”

“I was too rash,” Victor said, expressing his apologies to the Viscount and his wife. He then asked with a puzzled look, “Your Excellency Fredrick, why were you taking a detour on Amber Street?”

Viscount Fredrick and his wife were of high status and owned a large residence in the Nobles’ District, right next to the North Gate of Goldwater City. To leave the city, they could have simply gone through the North Gate; there was no need to detour through Amber Street at all.

“What else but the military tournament,” Fredrick complained. “Freelance knights from all over have been arriving one after another. Every one of them brings two retainers and three servants, and following them are scores of mercenaries, merchants, and women of the night. As for the thieves and swindlers, I don’t even want to think about them. This hot weather is already enough to make one’s temper flare, and now we have all these people. Yesterday, there was a tavern riot in Goldwater City, four armed brawls, seven people dead, and countless disputes between nobles.”

“Disputes between nobles?” Lady Audel said with disgust. “Would a true noble file accusations of theft and fraud over a gambling debt of a few dozen Gold Sols? They’re just a bunch of rude, broke paupers who should be locked in a jail, not swaggering around the Magistrate’s Office wasting your time.”

“My dear lady, they have bloodline certificates signed by the Church,” Viscount Fredrick said tactfully.

Audel gave a soft huff and said no more. Victor frowned. “This should be the magistrate’s job.”

“Every troublemaker the Magistrate’s Office arrests ends up being connected to a noble. The magistrate can’t handle so many nobles. We have no choice. We Great Knights have to take turns overseeing the Magistrate’s Office so the magistrate can take his men out to maintain order. These past two days, it just so happened to be my turn on duty. Audel and Anna came to visit me, but our carriage got stuck on the road. We almost missed the important tournament finals.”

Fredrick sighed again. “The streets of Goldwater City are quite wide, and yet they’re still clogged to a standstill. I’ve never encountered a situation like this.”

Victor pondered for a moment, then said, “Perhaps you could temporarily make the main roads of Goldwater City into one-way streets.”

“One-way streets?”

“Er… we can think of the roads as a ring canal, and the flow of traffic is the water in the canal. If the water only flows in one direction, traffic jams won’t occur. All carriages could enter the city through the South and West Gates, and exit through the North and East Gates, flowing to the right along the four main roads. That should solve the carriage congestion.”

Fredrick was stunned for a moment, but he quickly understood the trick. He clapped his hands and laughed, “What a brilliant idea! Victor, your wisdom is as dazzling as your bloodline.”

“The method is actually very simple. Anyone could have thought of it,” Victor said humbly.

“Such a simple method, yet I didn’t think of it,” the young Anna said, glancing at her father and muttering, “My father didn’t think of it either.”

The smile on Fredrick’s face instantly froze. Victor gave a dry cough and came to his rescue. “It’s not that we couldn’t think of it, but that we never would have. For the longest time, commoner carriages have not been allowed in the Nobles’ District, while noble carriages have had free passage. The situation now is that both noble and commoner carriages are stuck on the roads. My solution would allow commoner carriages into the Nobles’ District, which would break with past conventions.”

“Miss Anna, fixed mindsets limit our imagination. If we can break free from the shackles of tradition, many problems can be easily solved.”

“Commoner carriages in the Nobles’ District? Wouldn’t that be chaotic?” Audel said with a frown.

“My dear, it’s only temporary. Once these people leave Goldwater City, everything will return to normal.”

Viscount Fredrick stood up, a smile on his face. “Victor, I’m going to go and arrange for the one-way streets right now. Please do me the favor of looking after my wife and daughter.”

Victor asked, stunned, “Fredrick, you’re not going to watch the finals?”

“I can’t. I have a duty to attend to. I’ll take my leave first. I wish you all a pleasant afternoon.” Without waiting for the coachman to stop the carriage, Fredrick leaped off gracefully, his movements light and elegant. He even pulled the door shut behind him.

Inside the carriage, only Victor and Audel and her daughter remained, facing each other. The atmosphere instantly became subtle.

Anna looked shy but her gaze was bold; Audel was reserved yet fiery. Victor shifted back in his seat, grinding his teeth in silent frustration.

Fredrick, leaving your beautiful wife and daughter in my carriage… is this really appropriate?

Viscount Fredrick had another agenda. The relationship between Audel and Sylvia was complicated, and Anna was the key to breaking Victor’s own predicament.

Chapter 337: Fostering

Victor should have been worried for himself. Audel was a genuine Silver Knight. In such a confined space, subduing Victor would be an effortless task for her. As for Anna, the young noblewoman’s strength also far surpassed Victor’s.

Unfortunately, high-ranking female knights were proud and reserved. If their affections were not reciprocated, they would not throw themselves into a man’s arms. Even though Audel was smitten with Victor, she merely adjusted her posture elegantly, displaying the graceful curves of her body.

A smile played on Audel’s red lips, and her gaze was alluring, her appreciative eyes revealing a trace of admiration and faint melancholy. This stunningly beautiful female knight fully embodied the poise and gentle charm of a noblewoman from Sus with just her movements and expressions.

Victor had to admit, this perfectly calculated distance—not too close, not too far—and the subtle, ambiguous air were just right. It was like a fine wine in a glass; admiring it without drinking, one could become pleasantly tipsy from the aroma alone, feeling relaxed and at ease. Consequently, his fondness for Audel grew significantly.

Anna lacked her mother’s mature and captivating charm. The young girl’s gaze was fervent and bold, innocent and curious. Whenever her eyes met Victor’s, she would shyly lower her head, only to pout her pink lips and stare defiantly back at him until she was defeated once more.

As the darling of the York family, Anna had every reason to be proud. Her parents were both Great Knights of the Silver-rank, her uncle was Duke York, and her aunt was a legend among knights—an aunt who also showered her with favor and praise.

In Anna’s eyes, Viscount Randell was clearly a handsome youth of fifteen or sixteen. Yet this absurdly handsome boy was a constant topic of conversation for her parents. They would discuss his Moon Elf bloodline and study his administrative policies. Her father called him the York family’s Angres—the founding Prime Minister of the Iron Mountain Empire. Her mother, a woman of noble birth, made no secret of her admiration for him, and her powerful aunt, Sylvia, regarded him as her beloved.

All this filled Anna with curiosity about Viscount Randell. When she realized the viscount was not much older than her, this curiosity morphed into a sense of rivalry with a peer. Still, she found it hard to tear her eyes away from the half-elf’s appearance and bearing.

Victor paid no mind to the young girl’s thoughts. In fact, Anna’s expression reminded him of Roland. The eldest princess of Gambis had also lit up upon first meeting the little Baron, as if she had found an exquisite playmate. Compared to the unabashed possessiveness of other high-ranking female knights, Roland’s pure innocence had undoubtedly left a wonderful impression on the little Baron.

Of course, it was rather impolite for a guest to stare at her host like that, but Audel did not correct Anna’s behavior. Instead, she asked in a casual, languid tone, “Victor, I hear that House of Randell is preparing to recruit a group of noble scions?”

The Grand Military Tournament was essentially a talent recruitment fair for lords, so it was no secret that the House of Randell was recruiting noble scions. Victor replied frankly, “That is correct. I need some attendants with noble bloodline to serve as Liaison Officers, capable of meeting with high-ranking lords to deliver my verbal messages, invitations, and the like.”

“Attendants serving as Liaison Officers reflect the dignity of a family. So, what are your selection criteria?” Audel asked with a slight nod and a smile.

Victor shrugged. “No older than thirteen, with a bloodline certificate issued by the Church. I only need ten people, five boys and five girls.”

“A bloodline certificate from the Church doesn’t prove much,” Audel remarked, her reminder seemingly casual. “From what I know, Steward Mortis has selected sixty candidates for you. None of their fathers, brothers, or elders obtained the Qualification to compete.”

By making an offering, anyone had the right to have their bloodline appraised at the capital city’s main church. If they truly possessed a knight’s bloodline, the Bishop would issue a bloodline certificate. Due to the Radiant Code’s stipulations regarding bloodline inheritance, the Church would not falsify these appraisals, making the certificates legally valid.

However, after several generations of a noble family intermarrying with commoners, the knight’s bloodline in their descendants could become diluted to a negligible degree. Therefore, lords generally disregarded bloodline certificates. For noble scions to become honored guests of a lord, they needed a noble surname and a letter of recommendation from a knightly family. The more powerful the family, the more weight the letter carried. Of course, an illegitimate child of a noble could not obtain a family’s letter of recommendation; in that case, they had to let their abilities speak for themselves.

For this Grand Military Tournament held by the York family, anyone with a family letter of recommendation could participate directly. Contestants without a letter had to pay out of their own pockets to purchase a potion provided by the York family to have their bloodline strength tested. If their bloodline strength did not meet the standard, they would not receive the Qualification to compete.

In the end, what lords sought was strong bloodlines. Weak bloodlines with no potential for cultivation were told to get lost.

Boys and girls under the age of thirteen could not possibly participate in the military tournament. The fact that they had to travel thousands of kilometers with their elders to the Centaur Hills at such a young age spoke to their families’ dire straits, a situation that “down-and-out” failed to describe. To be precise, they had no family at all; they were merely wanderers. Since their fathers and brothers had failed to gain the right to compete, the quality of their bloodlines was self-evident.

For the time being, Victor did not need knights involved in the affairs of the Randell Fief, nor would Sylvia allow the House of Randell to recruit knights independently. Even if Sophia returned to the House of Randell, the knights under her command could only be joined with the York family through marriage. This was because the Randell Fief was an independent fief, and Sylvia had to ensure that the knights of the House of Randell belonged to the York Family Bloodline.

On the other hand, Sophia was, after all, a Marquess of the court. As a vassal of the Royal Family, she had an obligation of Respect to the Auguste family. Sophia could return to her husband’s side, but she could not directly join Sylvia’s command, for that would be an act of rebellion.

No lord would ever challenge the three obligations between a liege and a vassal; it would be tantamount to digging one’s own grave. But until the dust settled, Sylvia had to guard against outsiders infiltrating the House of Randell. The old steward of Rose Manor was acting on her will by selecting these young attendants with no background and no potential for the Randell Fief.

This was an open secret to Victor, and it was impossible for Audel not to understand the reasons behind it. Her reminder, therefore, seemed to carry a much deeper meaning.

Victor wanted to see what game Viscount Fredrick was playing, so he deliberately furrowed his brow and said, “Is that so?”

Audel smiled gracefully. “Victor, when the Ant-men attacked, we had nearly given up on the Centaur Hills. Fortunately, you provided timely intelligence on the Ant-man chief, which turned the tide of the battle. It’s safe to say that all the lords of the York family, more than a dozen of them, owe you a massive favor.”

“During this military tournament, we have all recruited a number of free knights, but your House of Randell is the only one not to have participated.” Audel took Anna’s small hand and said, “Anna awakened her Aura at the age of nine, and now, at twelve, she has resonated with ten Elemental Nodes. My daughter is top-tier, whether in terms of bloodline or appearance.”

“If you plan on taking a student, I recommend my daughter to you,” Audel said solemnly.

Anna’s heart skipped a beat. She was about to say that she hoped to be mentored by her Aunt Sylvia, but when she looked into Victor’s eyes, as deep as the night sky, her heart began to pound. Suddenly, the idea of following Viscount Randell didn’t seem so bad after all. Her delicate face blushing, she lowered her head.

A single word popped into Victor’s mind: Fostering.

Fostering among the families of lords was a common practice with many reasons behind it, including forming alliances, arranging marriages, taking hostages, seeking refuge, selling off, and banishing. Broadly speaking, fostering could be divided into two categories: with inheritance rights and with inheritance rights stripped.

The most common forms, selling and banishment, fell into the category of stripping inheritance rights. The little Baron had lost the inheritance rights to his original family when his parents sold him to Sophia. Lucian of Thorn Manor had been driven out of his family by his older brother to prevent him from competing for their parents’ legacy.

From Victor’s perspective, selling off and banishing children were undoubtedly despicable acts, but for the Nobles, such things were commonplace and not at all surprising.

When a family was too poor, what was wrong with parents finding a place for their second son or daughter to settle down and make a life? They couldn’t just let their descendants carve up the fief until there was nothing left. In fact, minor lords would find foster families for their younger children before they turned thirteen. If they couldn’t find one, the children would have to fend for themselves. Sophia’s situation was an example of this, while Sylvia and Marquess Golan had been fostered.

Regardless of the type of fostering arrangement, it was always a case of a weaker family pledging allegiance to a powerful lord, or at the very least, an exchange between equals. A stronger party would never bend to a weaker one. There was no reason for Anna to be fostered, and even if she were, she should not be entrusted to the House of Randell.

Anna’s full name was Angelina Blanstedt York. The Blanstedt family was Anna’s maternal lineage, a great house of the Kingdom of Sus with a history that could be traced back to the era of the Iron Mountain Empire, far more ancient than the Elayanuo family.

At the age of twelve, Audel, as the second daughter of the Blanstedt family, was fostered by the York family. Her intended marriage partner was the heir of the York family. Sylvia, however, came from a baronial family who were vassals to a viscount under the Blanstedt family. To use an analogy from ancient Huaxia, she could only be considered Audel’s handmaiden. But Sylvia became a Knight at fourteen, stepped into the Silver realm at fifteen, and revealed her Spirit Knight bloodline. In the face of such talent, the scions of even the greatest houses had to step aside. Thus, Sylvia turned the tables and became the Duchess of York, while Audel married the second son of the York family, Viscount Fredrick.

However, Audel’s was a marriage between equals, so she still retained her inheritance rights to the Blanstedt family. Although this was merely symbolic, she had passed these rights on to Angelina.

Although Fredrick York held the rank of Viscount, his and Audel’s fief spanned more than twenty thousand square kilometers, nearly meeting the minimum standard for a duchy. Once their family line branched out and grew, they could be promoted to the rank of Earl.

Therefore, the family founded by Fredrick and Audel lacked neither land nor titles and could easily accommodate their younger daughter, Anna. Moreover, Anna held the inheritance rights to her mother’s family, which was an inestimable political legacy. If some misfortune were to befall the Blanstedt family one day, with Sylvia’s support, it was not impossible for Anna to inherit that ancient and great house.

Victor simply could not fathom Viscount Fredrick’s intentions. He decided not to wade into these muddy waters.

“Lady Audel, thank you for your kind offer, but I am not a Knight, after all. I’m afraid it would be difficult for me to mentor Miss Anna,” Victor said tactfully.

“I know,” Audel nodded and said softly. “But Lady Sophia is a Silver Knight who has resonated with thirty-six Elemental Nodes. She is more than qualified to guide Anna.”

Victor’s pupils contracted sharply, and a faint breeze swirled around him automatically. Anna, however, was oblivious. She covered her mouth and exclaimed, “Heavens, thirty-six Elemental Nodes! Aunt Sophia is only one step away from the Gold rank!”

Aunt… doesn’t that make me your uncle? The nobles of Sus truly are all related…

Annoyance flashed across Victor’s face. He paused for a moment before asking in a warm voice, “Miss Anna, do you like Swiftbirds?”

“I do!” Anna’s eyes lit up, but then her expression fell. “But there are only sixty Swiftbirds at Rose Manor. Aunt Sylvia said they must be assigned to combat personnel first, so it’s not my turn yet.”

“You may pick two Swiftbirds from my convoy to be your mounts. Consider them a greeting gift from me,” Victor said with a smile.

“Can I go pick them now?” Anna clasped her hands together, looking at Victor with anticipation.

“Of course. As you wish.”

Victor casually pulled a small bell. The carriage gradually came to a stop, and an attendant opened the door. Victor instructed, “Take Miss Anna to select two Swiftbirds. Teach her how to ride and care for them.”

Anna gave Victor a Knight’s salute, then turned and hopped down from the carriage.

Victor closed the carriage door and said to Lady Audel, “Now, we can talk properly.”

Chapter 338: Family Politics (Part 1)

“Your Highness Randal, how would you like to discuss this?”

Audel gently bit her red lip, kicked off her mid-heeled boots, and curled her long, slender legs up on the carriage sofa. Her eyes danced with a flirtatious smile, her beautiful face losing some of its stately grace but gaining a touch of youthful playfulness.

With her daughter gone from the carriage, the Viscount’s wife finally began to unleash her charm without restraint.

Victor’s gaze lingered on the snowy white curve of her calf and her delicate, perfect feet, feasting his eyes for a moment before he shook his head. “I am far from being a Gold Knight. I’m no ‘Highness’.”

“The bloodline of a Gold Knight can found a family, which is why they are called ‘Your Highness’. There’s a saying that the Moon Elf bloodline is the wellspring of all Wind Knights. Your Moon Elf bloodline is powerful enough to rival that of a Gold Knight. In fact, if we speak of the antiquity and nobility of bloodlines, yours is even greater than a Gold Knight’s.”

Audel let out a soft laugh, tilting her head to study Victor’s eyes and ears. She sighed faintly, “I offered myself to Your Highness, only to be rejected. It truly breaks my heart.”

Both Malena and Audel, two of the four Great Knights of the York family, had once expressed their desire to become Victor’s partner through Sylvia, only to be refused by him.

Silver-rank female knights were dazzlingly beautiful, their beauty matched by their extraordinary power and intelligence. Their knowledge, background, authority, and their family’s heritage were equally awe-inspiring.

Victor was no moral purist, but neither was he a shallow lecher. The absolute rationality granted to him by X-3 gave him insight and self-control far beyond that of an ordinary person.

A knight’s lover was, in essence, a stable partner. A Silver-rank female knight held a respected status and could not be trifled with. It would be impossible for Victor to simply sleep with them and then deny any responsibility. The Countess of Teldrane and the wife of Viscount Fredrick were not required to remain in their family territories; if they were to take up long-term residence at Silver Moon Manor, Victor would find it difficult to keep the existence of his alchemical creatures a secret. Thus, he could neither afford to provoke nor manage the high-ranking female knights of the York family and could only keep them at a respectful distance.

Victor was silent for a moment before saying, “Lady Audel, your husband is of distinguished birth and noble blood, and he is a Great Knight. You have two sons and a daughter with him, and you manage the viscounty of Fredrick together. Is the bloodline of a Wind Knight truly more important than your marital bond?”

Wasn’t it obvious? If the Wind Knight bloodline wasn’t important, how could the Wimbledon family name have survived to this day?

Audel found the question amusing, but when she saw the slightly disdainful look in Victor’s eyes, a flash of insight struck her. She carefully considered Victor’s origins and experiences and suddenly understood.

This man had no understanding of the way Extraordinary Knights viewed partnerships. He valued romantic fidelity. No wonder Sylvia had forbidden that fatso from entering Rose Manor and allowed Katerina to exercise the duties of a duchess. She had drawn a clear line with Enbise solely to win her paramour’s favor. It seemed that to win Victor’s heart, one must first earn his respect.

Audel instantly understood the crux of the matter, and her cooling interest reignited. The媚態 on her lovely face was replaced by a look of admiration and praise. “The Centaur Hills were once filled with Purple Cane,” she said with a smile. “This precious crop was coarse and fibrous; even cattle, sheep, and horses wouldn’t eat it, yet it occupied fertile valley land. The first thing we did was cut it all down to plant crops and pasture. Only you discovered the value of Purple Cane, creating Purple Cane wine and raw sugar from it.”

“I was so poor back then my eyes were green with greed. I thought anything I saw was a treasure,” Victor said humbly.

Audel chuckled and shook her head. “That was no accident. The roads of Goldwater City were choked with carriages for days, and the Municipal Official was at a loss. You had just arrived, and you solved the problem. It’s just as you said: break free from old habits, liberate your mind, and the problem will solve itself. That is what makes you extraordinary.” The Viscount’s wife tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked into Victor’s eyes, asking seriously, “Victor, are your views of Fredrick and me constrained by preconceived notions? In your eyes, am I a wanton woman? Is Fredrick a shameless husband?”

Victor was about to deny it, but seeing the scrutinizing gaze in Audel’s bright eyes, he ultimately remained silent.

“A disingenuous denial would only make me look down on you.”

Audel nodded in approval, stating proudly, “Victor, we are both extraordinary beings. You don’t need to hide your thoughts. Contempt, pity, scolding, slander—none of it can shake my will.”

A sense of reverence grew in Victor, and he said sincerely, “Lady Audel, I apologize. I may have been prejudiced against both you and His Excellency Fredrick.”

Very good. This is a good start…

Audel’s heart secretly rejoiced. She continued, “Back then, when the Ant-men besieged Longstone Keep, Earl Teldrane defended the fortress to the death. Malena, however, was not with the Earl. Do you know why?” She paused, then went on, “Malena was at Red Hawk Fortress at the time. When she received Terlanden’s raven message, she immediately took her and Terlanden’s young son, Ryner, and retreated to the safety of Black Fortress Town. This happened because Malena and Terlanden had long been living apart.”

“My situation with Fredrick is the same.”

Audel said with a touch of melancholy, “Ever since Anna was born, I have spent most of my time living in White Dew Town while Fredrick guards the main city of our domain. Although we are husband and wife, we spend more time apart than together. Even when we are together, we only discuss family and territory matters.”

Victor thought for a moment and asked, “The Earl of Teldrane and his wife are both Great Knights. I imagine this situation is not a coincidence?”

“That’s right.” Audel nodded, and a smile blossomed on her face. “Sylvia only knows of it, but she has no personal experience, so she probably wouldn’t have discussed this kind of thing with you.”

“A Silver Knight interacts with the world both internally and externally. In terms of life-form, there is no fundamental difference from a Gold Knight. In order to produce outstanding offspring, we too need to open our bodies and minds, returning to the essence of mortals. The problem is that our control over our Aura is not as meticulous as a Gold Knight’s. When two Silver Knights are together…” As she spoke, Audel’s eyelids lowered, her long lashes trembling slightly. A faint blush crept across her cheeks, as if brushed with rouge, her bashful expression utterly captivating.

The flames of gossip burned brightly within Victor, and he quickly leaned in to listen. Seeing his twitching, pointed ears, Audel couldn’t help but roll her eyes at him, but she continued nonetheless, “When Auras collide and Elemental Nodes resonate, both parties must be extremely careful. The slightest carelessness can lead to severe consequences.”

Severe consequences? Severe consequences…

Victor suddenly shuddered, his face paling as his gaze darted away. Audel gritted her teeth in frustration and said with shy anger, “It’s not what you’re thinking…” With that, Audel shot Victor a fierce glare, took a deep breath, and waited for the blush to fade from her face before continuing. “The frequency at which a Knight uses their Aura to resonate with their Elemental Nodes is different for everyone. The four Elemental Nodes of earth, fire, wind, and water form a stable cycle, but any node not part of that cycle is relatively fragile. If it is affected by an external force and its resonant frequency is altered, it becomes incredibly difficult to correct. This often means the end of a knight’s path.”

“Gold Knights don’t have this problem, but we do.”

Audel pressed her lips together and said frankly, “The entire process is fraught with danger, utterly devoid of pleasure, and more exhausting than a vicious battle. It is our responsibility to produce outstanding offspring. After having Anna, we have absolutely no desire to go through it again. Unless one of us reaches the pinnacle of our rank, we can only maintain the status quo.”

“Not one in a hundred Silver Knights will ever reach the Gold rank.” Audel shook her head and sighed. “To be honest, the chances of Fredrick and me becoming Gold Knights are infinitesimal.” Then she added, “Anna, on the other hand, has a chance.”

“But that doesn’t mean you have to live apart.” Victor muttered, “You were able to risk having Anna, so you must trust and love each other deeply. Why separate? Aren’t you worried that Fredrick will be jealous?”

“We were in love, before we reached the Silver-rank. And our trust will never change. But so what?”

Audel rose to her feet and said sarcastically, “Fredrick has three personal handmaidens and four female knight lovers. Isn’t he afraid that I’ll be jealous?”

“What good would my jealousy do? The family needs heirs. Since we can no longer take the risk, what’s the point of me staying by Fredrick’s side? To watch him be affectionate with his lovers every day?”

“Fredrick is a Silver Knight, and so am I. How could he have acquired a territory of twenty thousand square kilometers all by himself? He can have lovers, and so can I. Isn’t that right?” Audel asked, her gaze burning.

Victor was at a loss for words and could only nod silently.

“But the reality is very unfair. You men can have many partners at once, but we can only bear one child at a time and have one partner at a time. Not even the Queen of Sus is an exception,” Audel said calmly. “Men only think about passing on their bloodline, but for a Silver-rank female knight, a partner’s power, status, and appearance are unimportant. We only desire a partner with a noble bloodline.”

“The Duchess of Wellington is a Silver-rank Knight, but her husband is old and decrepit. There can be no love between them. The old Marquess Wimbledon married Sophia, but she could knock the old Marquess unconscious with a single finger. How could she truly submit to him?”

“A female knight’s marriage is only happy and fulfilling when the husband is stronger than the wife,” Audel sighed faintly. “If we cannot have a Gold Knight as a partner, we would rather be alone than wrong ourselves.”

As the saying goes, it’s lonely at the top. While Extraordinary Knights gained power and youth, they also became as lonely as snow. They looked down on partners weaker than themselves, yet being with a powerful Gold Knight would likely not be a carefree or pleasant experience either. It was no wonder, then, that nobles with the Moon Elf bloodline were so sought after by high-ranking female knights. If one considered only pure emotion, the devotion of a high-ranking female knight to her partner was far greater than that of an ordinary person, because there were simply too few who were worthy of them.

“Lady Audel, I’m very sorry,” Victor said guiltily.

Audel smiled faintly and sat down gracefully beside Victor. She closed her starry eyes and murmured, “The aura about you… it’s fresh, natural, and vibrant. This is the scent of a noble bloodline. It’s intoxicating…”

A faint, sweet fragrance lingered by his nose. Gazing at the delicate red lips so close to his own, Victor felt a daze come over him. Just as the two were leaning closer and closer, the silver-bell-like laughter of a young girl came from outside the carriage.

Escorted by her attendants, Anna rode her Swiftbird, zipping away in an instant only to race back again, shouting and shrieking with unrestrained joy.

Damn it, can’t you be a little more reserved when riding a Swiftbird…

The clarity gradually returned to Victor’s eyes, and he awkwardly shifted back. Audel was seething with resentment, but she decided to discuss business first. However, she did not know that she had missed a golden opportunity. If she had been like Gillian and, without a second thought, simply pushed Victor down, her future would have been entirely different.

In the end, Audel had no idea that Victor considered her a huge complication. Nor did she possess the same burning, sincere emotions as Gillian. As a veteran Great Knight, she always put her family’s interests first.

Chapter 339: Family Politics (Part 2)

With a sorrowful expression, Audel said, “Anna is my youngest daughter. As her mother, I can’t bear for her to leave me.”

Victor, just emerging from a romantic haze and with his mind not yet clear, smiled and said, “Randell Fief is indeed quite far from Viscount Fred’s territory. You should keep Anna by your side.”

Audel just watched him quietly. After a moment, she said, “When I was twelve, I came from the Kingdom of Sus to the York family, and Enbise’s cousin, Weitus York, went to the Blanstedt family.”

The system of fostering children between great lords of equal standing was often a form of marriage alliance. In essence, it was an exchange of bloodlines, and also a way to hedge against the risk of a family’s extinction. If a family lost an internal power struggle within the kingdom and was purged by a rival family, the child fostered elsewhere had the responsibility of rebuilding the family. Therefore, the partners in such fostering alliances were typically great families from outside the kingdom.

Anna was one of the most outstanding members of the York family’s younger generation. But under Sylvia’s leadership, the York family had become aggressive and overbearing. The major powers of the Kingdom of Gambia didn’t dare to form a marriage alliance with them, lest they become a thorn in the Royal Family’s side. Under these circumstances, Sylvia could only choose a fostering and marriage partner from among the external powers.

This time, with the envoys of various kingdoms gathered in the Centaur Hills, there was no shortage of powers willing to form a marriage alliance with the York family. The Pinnacle Knights from Naville and Sasan were likely charged with this very mission. Perhaps the children to be exchanged for fostering were already in Goldwater City.

No matter who the York family chose to align with, Anna would be Sylvia’s choice for the exchange. However, it was clear that Audel and Fredrick were unwilling to lose their beloved daughter.

In modern society, being separated from one’s own flesh and blood is a profound human sorrow. Victor had lived two lives. In his previous life, he was an orphan who longed for parental affection. In this life, his host’s body had been betrayed by his father and stepmother. As Great Knights, Viscount Fredrick and his wife did not dare to defy Sylvia’s will. They could only place their hopes in Victor.

“Are the Centaur Hills truly so vast, yet have no room for a single Anna?”

Victor had no children of his own, but he was deeply moved by the profound and heartfelt love Fredrick and Audel showed as parents. He thought for a moment and said, “Sylvia is fair in her dealings, and she is gentle and generous. She is also very fond of Anna. I will ask her to choose someone else for the alliance. You can just keep Anna by your side.”

But how could they let Sylvia know about this ahead of time?

Audel’s willow-leaf brows furrowed. She hesitated for a moment before saying, “Victor, do you know Katerina’s origins?”

“Katerina? She’s Enbise’s personal handmaiden, a noblewoman from the Joshua family. Since her promotion to Great Knight, she has begun to act in the capacity of the Duchess of York.”

“Only Sylvia could make a Great Knight serve as Enbise’s personal handmaiden.”

Audel sighed and shook her head. “After Duke Joshua and the Duchess became Extraordinary Knights, their only daughter was Katerina. She was fostered in Aerie Fortress from a young age and raised to be Princess Roland’s attendant knight. Katerina’s relationship with Roland was like Trisley’s with Sylvia. She was even on the verge of becoming the Queen of Gambis, but in the end, Sylvia snatched her away and gave her to Enbise to be his personal handmaiden.”

“Wh-What? Q-Queen?” Victor stammered, dumbfounded.

“The legitimate daughter of Duke and Duchess Joshua, a close friend of Princess Roland, the fiancée of Prince Edward—the future Queen of Gambis was snatched away by Sylvia to become Enbise’s personal handmaiden. Roland flew into a rage over this and forced the Senate to demote our York family to the rank of Earl.”

The corners of Audel’s lips curled up, and her moist eyes curved into crescents. She couldn’t help but smile. “But it was so satisfying!” After a pause, she continued, “Over a decade ago, when we led fifty thousand of our people in the migration to the Centaur Hills, we passed through Duke Joshua’s territory. Sylvia had us stop there. Duke Joshua and his knights cowered in their castle, not daring to make a move, allowing us to drive out villagers, confiscate grain and supplies, and occupy their villages and homes. After four months, the Joshua family couldn’t hold out any longer. They sent Katerina to negotiate, and Sylvia detained her and brought her to the Centaur Hills.”

“Victor, you should understand now, shouldn’t you?” Audel said with a charming smile. “Sylvia’s gentleness is reserved for you alone.”

Victor sucked in a cold breath. Sylvia always acted helpless, compromising, and wronged by the August family in front of him, as if the stories of the Spirit Knight’s power were just far-fetched legends and she was, at heart, a gentle little woman. Today, Victor finally learned Sylvia’s true face.

The daughter of a noble duke, the future Queen of Gambis, was abducted and given to Enbise as a personal handmaiden. Sylvia had thoroughly slapped the faces of both the Royal Family and Duke Joshua, yet all they could do was give the York family a slap on the wrist by demoting them to an earldom. And in the end, the Senate even restored Enbise’s title.

Sylvia wasn’t just forceful; she was so domineering it was breathtaking.

Then again, the Joshua family had been the fuse for the War of the Three Provinces. The York family’s peripheral lords had pressed them step by step, which prompted Duke Joshua to appeal to the Royal Family for aid, indirectly leading to King Ryan’s demise. The York family was also a victim. Not only did they lose the lands they had managed for generations, but their peripheral lords all defected to Neowist. Sylvia was left with no choice but to lead the core members of her family on the Westward Migration to the Centaur Hills to reclaim a family domain.

The York family had suffered enormous losses for no reason. How could Sylvia stomach that pent-up rage? Knocking out the instigator’s teeth and forcing them to swallow them—that was the true nature of a Spirit Knight.

But, was Sylvia really just venting her anger?

The death of King Ryan was shrouded in strangeness. Sylvia clearly sensed an undercurrent but couldn’t find the mastermind behind it. With the situation unclear, Sylvia went against the consensus and led her entire clan on the Westward Migration, decisively jumping out of the vortex’s center to avoid repeating Ryan’s fate. However, the people of the York family were reluctant to leave their homeland. Leaving in such disgrace would inevitably cause morale to waver. Sylvia’s abduction of Katerina was meant to boost the family’s spirit and declare to all powers that the dignity of a Spirit Knight was not to be trifled with. This was how she established her authority.

On the other hand, by destroying the marriage contract between Katerina and the royal, Prince Edward, she forced the Joshua family to support Grand Duke Williams. This, in turn, gave Williams the confidence to challenge Queen Catherine. The internal struggle between the Grand Duke’s Faction and the Queen’s Faction would be beneficial for the York family’s efforts to consolidate their territory in the Centaur Hills.

For Duke Joshua, sacrificing a daughter could appease the wrath of the August family and the York family. After all, he was the main culprit. By playing the victim, he could garner some sympathy and secretly build a connection with the York family. After all, Sylvia was unable to bear children, so the offspring of Katerina and Enbise would inherit the York family’s throne.

Queen Catherine came from a minor collateral branch of the Wellington family. Her foundations were still shallow, so she needed the support of her mother’s main family branch more than the Joshua family. Catherine made Margaret Wellington the fiancée of Prince Edward. And Margaret was the daughter of Marquess Golan and the Duchess of Wellington. It was because of this connection that Marquess Golan remained silent on Williams’s legitimate claim to inheritance, and the kingdom’s military maintained a neutral stance.

Therefore, Katerina was the sole sacrifice. Was it now Anna’s turn?

Sylvia wouldn’t even give Anna a Swiftbird mount. This showed that her supposed favoritism was just a facade. The title “pearl of the York family” was likely just a flattering term to sell Anna at a high price.

The question was, with Anna’s bloodline talent being so outstanding, why would Sylvia send her away? Unless Anna threatened the inheritance rights of Enbise’s children.

For small families, primogeniture was a crucial condition for maintaining stability and keeping their territory intact. But for a great power to strictly adhere to primogeniture would be particularly laughable. In fact, the internal factions of great families were complex, and the struggle for the throne was fierce. All sorts of schemes and conspiracies were endless, and it was common for heirs to be exiled or murdered.

Moreover, there was a peculiar phenomenon in great families: the eldest son was often inferior to the younger sons. The reason lay in the order of the parents’ advancement as Knights. To secure the position of the legitimate eldest son, the great lords came up with an ingenious method: they would trade their own outstanding children for the noble bloodlines of other great families. Through such marriages, they ensured the bloodline advantage of their own branch while conveniently eliminating competitors for the succession.

After careful thought, Victor realized that Anna posed a very significant threat to Enbise’s offspring.

The lifespan of a Spirit Knight was comparable to that of a Silver Knight, far shorter than a Gold Knight’s. The more aggressively the York family expanded now, the more severely they would be suppressed by other powers in the future. Once Sylvia passed away, they would desperately need a strong leader to inherit the family throne.

Although Katerina was a Great Knight, Enbise was just an ordinary person. How could their children possibly compare to Anna? Enbise’s descendants would never be able to withstand the immense internal pressure of the family. Losing their inheritance was inevitable, and they might even be murdered.

From the long-term interests of the family, Sylvia should have chosen Anna. But she owed Enbise a favor and had made a promise regarding the succession. Forcing Katerina to be Enbise’s spouse was part of that promise, but if she didn’t send Anna away, that promise would ultimately be impossible to fulfill.

Thinking of this, Victor asked coolly, “Sylvia is my lover. Do you think I would betray her will to help you fight for the right of succession?”

“The right of succession?” Audel gave a self-deprecating laugh and shook her head. “It would be a lie to say we don’t want it, but right now, we are just trying to protect ourselves.”

“There is more than enough land in the Centaur Hills, and the Southern Continent is still waiting for us to develop. The future of the York family is magnificent and vast; every bit of strength is extremely precious.”

“You should know that fostering through marriage is, in itself, intended to weaken collateral branches. But the foundation of the family Fredrick and I have built is still shallow, and our eldest and second sons have mediocre talents. With Anna’s help, Fredrick and I would have a much easier time. Otherwise, our family might never recover from the blow.”

“Sylvia might not truly want to send Anna away. She just needs a way out, and you and Sophia have the right to provide it,” Audel said earnestly. “Since Anna is to be the subject of a fostering marriage, why must she be sent to Sasan or Naville? Your and Sophia’s children could perfectly well marry Katerina’s children. This would secure the inheritance rights of the main line’s descendants, and having Anna stay by your side would also strengthen the House of Randell. Isn’t that for the best?”

Before Sophia’s return, Victor was, at best, a chief steward for the York family. After her return, the House of Randell could truly be called a family in its own right, thus becoming an extremely important political force in the Centaur Hills. For Fredrick and his wife to use Anna to form an alliance with Victor was the choice that maximized their interests.

Victor’s lifespan was one hundred and sixty years. If Anna became Victor’s woman, she would retain her claim to the York family’s succession. With the support of the House of Randell, she would very likely become the leader of the York family. If Anna were to marry a child of Victor and Sophia, it would be a marriage between the Fredrick family and the House of Randell. With the continuous exchange of bloodlines, the Fredrick family would inevitably grow strong rapidly.

Fredrick and Audel were both husband and wife, and lords. Anna was their daughter, but also their subject. Bloodline, power, kinship, love, and interest—all were interwoven, so complex it was hard to tell them apart.

This was family politics.

Watching Anna playing cheerfully outside, the confusion in Victor’s eyes gradually faded, replaced by brightness and determination. In that moment, he was transforming from a minor lord into a true great noble.

Chapter 340: Transformation

Victor was a lord, but he ran his fief more like a business, with corresponding departments and managers for security, production, processing, transportation, public relations, sales, and finance.

Compared to a feudal family, a modern enterprise has two distinct differences: first, a clear separation between public and private affairs, and second, adherence to state policies and regulations.

Typically, vassals would pay tribute to their lord. Victor, however, believed that work deserved payment. He not only gave his vassals a salary but also paid his wife one. In Lilia’s words, “There’s really no one like him.”

In terms of law-abiding conduct, Victor was a model lord. Lords valued their promises and rarely made public statements on internal affairs, leaving such matters to their stewards. If things developed unfavorably, they could correct the error by punishing the steward. But Victor not only jumped into the fray himself, he also held two Divine Notarizations in a row.

That, too, was something else.

For a long time, Victor had adopted a strategy of lying low and building up his strength. Politically and diplomatically, he aligned with Sylvia; in internal and civil affairs, he maintained a good cooperative relationship with the Church. Secretly, however, he was planning the development of a smuggling caravan.

There was nothing wrong with building high walls, stockpiling grain, and being slow to claim the title of king. But when Sylvia’s decisions clashed with the developmental strategy of the House of Randell, Victor was suddenly at a total loss.

This wasn’t because Victor was indecisive, but because he was influenced by his habits and cognition.

If you viewed a modern country’s laws, regulations, public services, and infrastructure as a large system, and an enterprise as a small system, then the better the small system fit into the large one, the more prosperous the enterprise would be. Conversely, the enterprise would struggle, and it wouldn’t be surprising for it to collapse and go bankrupt overnight.

Obeying the social order and fully utilizing the conveniences provided by the state system was a near-universal understanding for a modern person.

As a transmigrator from the bottom rungs of society, Victor retained the modern habit of abiding by laws and regulations. Habits and perceptions are not easily changed in just a few short years.

Neither his past self nor the little Baron who was his host had ever received a formal education in being a lord. Victor could only act according to his own understanding. In his eyes, the Church’s Radiant Code was tantamount to a supreme constitution, while the York family represented the ruling class of the Centaur Hills. The two combined formed a state-like system.

Although Victor was no genius, he understood the principle of latching onto powerful patrons to do business. However, people are always learning. As time passed, Victor gradually adapted to his new environment and identity, and he came to understand that the political foundation of a noble family was an extraordinary Bloodline, not business and wealth. If he ran his family like an enterprise, he would ultimately be working hard only for others to reap the rewards, just like what happened to Marquess Ephesus and Sophia.

Victor was deeply frustrated. The extraordinary power of the Alchemy Tower was self-contained and had a ceiling, which meant that once The Golden Company developed to a certain point, its members would naturally gravitate toward other great noble families. It was as if Victor had planted a fruit tree; even if he couldn’t have all the fruit for himself, he should at least control the power to distribute it. Yet, he was discovering that he might not have the right to distribute the fruit at all.

Victor was trapped in a dilemma, so much so that when Sylvia proposed the strategy of winning over Sophia and absorbing the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild, he had no heart to deal with it.

Today, Audel’s words had been a sudden awakening. He was already a great noble of considerable influence, one who could even affect the political landscape of the York family.

What did the status of a great noble bring? Victor wasn’t entirely sure yet, but he could refer to the actions of other great nobles.

Duke Joshua had sold out his own daughter to resolve a political crisis. Not only did he minimize his family’s losses, but he also skillfully played both sides between the York family and the Royal Family. It was shameless, but brilliantly executed.

Catherine chose to form a marriage alliance with Margaret of the Wellington family, thereby winning over both the Wellington family and Marquess Golan, while also elevating her own family’s status among the south-central lords. It was a case of killing three birds with one stone.

Sylvia was even more audacious. Other powers trying to win over Sophia had offered fiefs and titles and wouldn’t have touched her wealth. But Sylvia wanted Sophia’s person and her money, yet offered no fief or title in return—only a spouse with a noble Bloodline, who also happened to be her own legal husband.

The goals of the great nobles were clear. No matter what happened, they would use any means necessary to reap the greatest benefits.

An entrepreneur follows the rules of the game; a politician makes the rules of the game. The difference in their perspectives was as vast as the sky and the earth.

Previously, Victor would always first determine what he could do, then consider how to do it. His style was more subtle than it was assertive, more calculating than bold. But the great nobles always determined their objective first, then found any way possible to achieve it. No one could sway their resolve, nor would they be timid or hesitant.

The vast sea is for fish to leap, the high sky is for birds to fly. Victory and defeat would be decided by skill alone.

This was the difference between a great noble and a minor lord.

Leap over the fence, and a whole new world becomes visible. At that moment, Victor’s mentality underwent a seismic shift. He began to re-examine his vision for The Golden Company.

“My purpose in building The Golden Company was to control a powerful armed force. I chose a bottom-up approach because the potential of common people is considerable, and their demands are low and their horizons narrow. Therefore, hiring commoners has the lowest cost and they are easier to control. But I made a mistake…”

“There is no fundamental difference in the intelligence and needs of people, whether they are commoners or Knights. To obtain an extraordinary Bloodline, the core members trained by The Golden Company will ultimately pledge allegiance to the Knight-Nobles. When the great nobles become aware of The Golden Company, they will fight me for control of it. If they can’t have it, they’ll destroy it!”

“How can one allow others to snore beside one’s bed? If it were me, I would do the same.”

“The mistake I made was seeing only the potential of the common folk, while ignoring the power of the Knights!”

“How can The Golden Company not have Knights? An open Golden Company must have Knights, and it can also accommodate Knights of humble origins. Also, a minor lord is not enough to protect The Golden Company; the great nobles must be brought in from the beginning. If every kingdom has a great noble secretly protecting The Golden Company, my plan can be carried out.”

“Once the freemen merchants place coffee on the tables of the great nobles, they will immediately realize the value of The Golden Company. To curb the ambitions of these great nobles, they must never know each other’s identities. Therefore, I need someone to take the lead.”

“Sophia is the perfect candidate. She is well-connected and has immense passion for commerce. With both the Stag and Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guilds destroyed, it would be perfectly reasonable for her to secretly form The Golden Company. Moreover, Sophia has the barbarians and Sylvia behind her, so other great nobles wouldn’t dare to act rashly.”

“Let the great nobles and Sophia establish the public carriage system. As long as they control the public transport system, they will actively participate. I possess the alchemical creatures and can firmly control the mountain strongholds and mercenary companies. No major power can do this. This is the real capital that allows me to lead The Golden Company.”

“I can take my time considering the partners and implementation details. The most pressing matter is to settle two things first.”

“The first is to win over Sophia. This shouldn’t be difficult. Only a person with an extraordinary Bloodline and a spouse with a top-tier Bloodline can be considered a great noble. I need her, and she needs me. Sophia should understand this. Then, I must dispatch all the Knights of the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild, forcing it to merge with the Stag Merchants’ Guild. Once Sophia’s claws are clipped, I can weaken her actual influence over the Randell Fief. Gradually, her Knights and the core members of the Stag Merchants’ Guild will swear allegiance to me. Because I am Sophia’s husband, I control the lands and titles of the House of Randell. I am the great noble!”

“The second thing is to persuade Sylvia to delay her strategy of suppressing the Stag Merchants’ Guild. It’s not yet time for it to fall… This shouldn’t be too hard either. As long as Sylvia understands the concept of The Golden Company, she will support me one hundred percent. The difficulty lies in how much I should reveal to her.”

“That woman Sylvia is too clever, and her desire for control is too strong. If I reveal too little, she won’t let it go. If I reveal too much, I’m afraid I won’t be able to hide the matter of the mountain folk strongholds and the mercenary companies from her. This is truly a headache…”

The X-3 operated at high speed. Victor’s expression shifted between a smile and a frown. In Audel’s eyes, he suddenly seemed unfathomably deep. The pulsation of the fire elements stirred the Silver-ranked female knight’s heart, and her beautiful eyes practically dripped with honey.

A fire element affinity… Victor truly did have the potential to become a Sword Saint!

“Your Highness Randell, what are your thoughts?” Audel leaned on Victor’s shoulder, her breath like a fragrant orchid in his ear.

Victor smiled faintly. “This matter can only be discussed after Sophia returns to the House of Randell. If she is unwilling to come back, it’s useless for me to agree to your request now.”

“She will come back,” Audel said with certainty. “No High-ranked Knight can resist the allure of the Elemental Sea, and a merchant family cannot support the conviction of a Gold Knight. Sophia is smart. She knows she’s taken the wrong path, and it’s not too late to turn back now.”

“You don’t understand Sophia. She’s more stubborn than you imagine,” Victor said, shaking his head.

“My dear Victor, if Sophia doesn’t join the Centaur Hills, she will ‘die’!”

Audel gave a charming smile and said softly, “In fact, apart from Sylvia, all the Great Knights of our York family are indifferent toward Sophia.”

“Victor, as long as you agree, Sophia’s opinion doesn’t matter.”

If Sophia chose to leave the Centaur Hills, it wouldn’t be her person that died, but her marriage to Victor. Since Sophia had already become the spokesperson for Mount Arreat, any power that attempted to recruit her would demand that she sever her ties with Sylvia, and the Auguste family would be no exception. Thus, changing her status became a prerequisite for taking her in.

The York family’s future strategic focus was the Southern Continent. For them, Arreat was too far from the Centaur Hills; their barbarian allies in the north were disposable. If Sophia chose another power, the York family would immediately arrange another marriage for Victor. There were at least three candidates: Nicole, Trisley, and Angelina.

Victor was silent for a moment before saying, “I still need to think about it.”

“As you wish.” Audel nodded and said no more.

The carriage gradually came to a halt. Outside, a clamor of noise revealed they had arrived at the tournament grounds.

Victor stepped out of the carriage first, then extended a hand to help Lady Audel down the wooden steps.

“Your Highness, you are a true gentleman.” Audel smiled sweetly and planted a light kiss on Victor’s cheek, whispering, “I don’t mean to rush you, but Anna has just turned twelve. We don’t have much time. I hope you can give me a clear answer within three months.”

Just then, Anna came galloping over on a Swiftbird, with another one trailing behind her. She leaped from the saddle, holding the reins, and raised her bright little face, asking cheerfully, “Victor, can I keep Markel and Luther? Those are their names. I came up with them.”

The two Swiftbirds pawed the ground impatiently. It would likely take Anna some effort to fully tame them. Victor smiled and nodded. “Of course you can. It would be their honor. However, you must have your servants feed them carefully. Markel and Luther have quite the temper.”

“I promise I will feed Markel and Luther myself.” Anna hugged a Swiftbird’s neck, her small, snow-white hand affectionately scratching its fluffy neck feathers. The bird, as strong as a bear, actually let out a contented purr. Anna giggled for a moment, then asked timidly, “My lord, I would also like two female birds to keep Markel and Luther company. Would that be possible?”

“Anna, do not make excessive demands. It is impolite,” Audel admonished her darling daughter.

Victor said apologetically, “Miss Anna, I am very sorry. I have no way of picking suitable female birds for you.” Then his tone shifted. “You must go to the Randell Fief yourself to choose them, and you will also have to learn how to breed Swiftbirds.”

“That’s wonderful!” The young girl’s pout turned into a smile of delight. She gave Victor a quick hug, then immediately let go, blushing as she curtsied. “My lord, I will visit the House of Randell at a suitable time.”

“You are most welcome.”

Under the escort of soldiers, Audel and Anna left the caravan and headed toward the Fredrick family’s camp. Before leaving, Audel gave Victor a long, meaningful look.

From beginning to end, Audel never proposed any conditions for an exchange with Victor, because Anna herself was a huge political asset. Just as Sylvia had praised, she was the pearl of the York family.

Taking in Anna would represent an alliance between the House of Randell and Viscount Fredrick and his wife. It would also mean that Victor was voicing an opinion different from Sylvia’s, stepping onto the political stage to become a true great noble. The significance of this was extraordinary.

This was what Victor truly valued. However, Anna was not crucial to the core interests of the House of Randell. Victor planned to first probe Sylvia’s attitude before considering his next move.

“My lord, where are we going now?” One-Eyed Dragon Gru asked after parking the carriage and walking over.

Victor pondered for a moment, then swung himself onto a Swiftbird and said, “Send someone to the family camp and bring Narsen here. Then, come with me to see Lady Sophia.”

Rose Manor, in the crystal conservatory.

Sylvia took a white rose from Trisley and placed it in a flower basket, asking without looking up, “Have Fredrick and Audel finally lost their patience?”

The old steward, Motis, answered with the utmost respect, “Lady Audel and Miss Anna boarded Lord Victor’s carriage. As for whether they discussed the matter of Fostering, we are not yet certain.”

“Find a way to hint to Fredrick that I will send Anna to Naville in six months. If he wants to keep Anna here, he must have Victor’s approval.”

“Yes.” Motis bowed and withdrew.

Sylvia lifted the basket to admire it for a moment, then nodded in satisfaction. “My dear Trisley, what do you think?”

“Are you asking about the flower basket? Or about your scheme?” Trisley took the basket and said coolly, “I don’t understand why you are secretly encouraging Viscount Fredrick to contend for the succession.”

Sylvia walked to a rattan chair and sat down. Only after Trisley had arranged the flower basket did she say leisurely, “Anna is the most talented child in the family. She is certain to achieve the Silver-rank in the future. I would truly hate to trade her to another family.”

“So, you plan to use Victor as a shield to block the complaints from Enbise and Katerina?” Trisley shook her head and sighed. “It won’t work! Enbise won’t let this go. He’ll still come to you.”

“But, how could I refuse a small request from my beloved?” Sylvia caressed her smooth, full forehead and said pitifully, “My dear sister, surely you can understand my predicament.”

Trisley rolled her eyes and said irritably, “What I can’t understand is why you have to scheme against Victor. If you just told him plainly, wouldn’t he have kept Anna?”

A sweet, enchanting smile appeared on Sylvia’s face. “Victor loves me very much… but he doesn’t love the York family. How can that be?!”

Sylvia gazed at a budding rose and chuckled softly. “You always develop a special fondness for the flowers you plant yourself. As long as Victor participates in the affairs of the York family, he will come to love the York family.”

“This is about the succession!” Trisley said in disbelief. “Do you truly believe Victor is more important than the family’s succession?”

“There is no doubt on that point.”

Sylvia closed her eyes, thought for a moment, then said, “In the past, a fief of three hundred square kilometers could support at most three or four thousand people. With the New Agro-husbandry and water projects, the same amount of land can sustain over ten thousand. The refugees will also play an important role. It’s simply unimaginable.”

“Victor is leading us into a new era, but I don’t know how to walk the path ahead.” Sylvia opened her bright eyes, her expression radiant. “Fortunately, we have Victor. He is blazing a path forward, and his results have been outstanding.”

“Do you remember Victor’s grand legion strategy?”

“Grand legion?” Trisley raised a willow-thin eyebrow in surprise. “Wasn’t that rejected?”

“It’s not that simple.” Sylvia shook her head. “Victor is gradually perfecting the grand legion strategy. He explicitly proposed the theory of ‘logistics is king,’ along with standardized weaponry, strict discipline, and a brand-new tactical command… Victor calls it a ‘staff’.”

“The more I think about it, the more I feel the grand legion has a high chance of success. Once this legion strategy takes shape, it will inevitably change the face of future warfare. I can assert that the key to successfully pioneering the Southern Continent lies with the grand legion. And the key to the grand legion’s success is Victor!”

“How can we let such a person leave the York family? Must I really kill my own Lover with my own hands before I die?”

Looking at Sylvia’s calm face, Trisley felt a pang of pain in her heart.

In order to win Victor’s love, Sylvia had poured her sincere emotions into him, and her outward demeanor had changed as a result. But the lifespan of a Spirit Knight was far shorter than that of a Wind Walk Archer. If Victor felt no sense of belonging to the York family, Sylvia would have no choice but to kill him, which was undoubtedly a painful choice for her.

In the face of the family’s interests, nothing was too great a sacrifice. If this was true even for Sylvia, what was Enbise’s right of succession in comparison?

“Don’t worry. As long as I am alive, no one can take away the succession rights of Enbise’s heir. If Katerina can’t think of a solution after all this time, then she’s a fool.” Sylvia’s voice suddenly turned cold. “A fool is not fit to lead the York family!”

Trisley said in a deep voice, “Sylvia, I will always support you.”

“Darling, let’s not be so somber. We can think of happier things. For instance, Catherine must deeply regret not securing Victor and Sophia.” Sylvia asked with a smile, “Do you know why she lost to me?”

Trisley didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “You’ve said it countless times. She wasn’t as magnanimous as you.”

“This is my happiest achievement. I can’t help but say it, no matter how many times I have.” Sylvia smiled smugly. “Catherine’s arrangements for Sophia and Victor were flawless. Unfortunately, she had to maintain the Queen’s dignity and tried to use power to suppress a Silver Knight. If she had spoken frankly with Sophia, the August family would not have lost Victor.”

Trisley said coolly, “I think it was the Queen’s own selfishness. She didn’t want His Highness Roland to marry, so she went behind Marquess Golan’s back and gave Victor to Sophia.”

“A noble with an elven bloodline is an excellent partner for the Grand Princess, after all.”

Chapter 341: The Secret of the Bloodline (Part 1)

Blinor City, Aerie Fortress.

“Regarding Victor, I admit I had selfish motives.”

Clad in a magnificent silk gown with a jeweled coronet on her head, Catherine sat upon the throne, looking dignified, elegant, and noble. Yet, her tone was somewhat weak. Facing Marquess Golan’s questioning, the Queen of Gambis seemed to lack confidence.

“There’s no point in discussing the past.”

Golan’s conviction was to protect the Auguste family. He adhered to the way of a vassal, fiercely loyal to his liege lord, and never acted aggressively before members of the Royal Family. But when the interests of the royal family were at stake, he would not allow the descendants of the Auguste family to act recklessly. Case in point: a fortune of four million Gold Sol.

“Your Majesty, in the last ten years, Gambis has expanded its army twice. The first time, twenty-one thousand militiamen from the northern commanderies were converted into vassal soldiers. The second time, the four central commanderies elevated over five thousand refugee families to subject families, moved them to the northern commanderies, and recruited over eight thousand militiamen from among them.”

Marquess Golan stood at the foot of the dais and said in a low voice, “Therefore, the shortfall for this rearmament is huge—a full thirteen thousand sets of equipment are needed. After calculating the cost, we are still short nine hundred thousand Gold Sol for procurement. The Quartermaster is camped outside the War Ministry’s doors every day, making trouble for me. I went to the Minister of Finance, but Marquess Leopold told me the treasury is empty. I had no choice but to come to you.” As he spoke, Golan held out his hand in a gesture of demanding money.

Catherine cried out in silent bitterness but said aloud, “Lord Golan, the northern commanderies are currently constructing a water project. Once the main canal is completed, it will add five hundred thousand mu of arable land, and much of the wilderness that was previously uncontrollable can be turned into noble fiefs. Furthermore, establishing a southern port is of great significance, and its future returns are immeasurable.”

“Marquess Leopold, in accordance with the decision of the Royal Council, has set aside the funds for the canals and the port, a total expenditure of 4.3 million Gold Sol. This is something you supported…”

“Of course I support it.” Marquess Golan withdrew his arm and said coldly, “But before we build the port, we must first launch a war to clear out the Fishmen from the riverbanks. Your Majesty and His Highness the Grand Duke also supported this… You can’t expect our soldiers to fight Fishmen with pitchforks, can you?”

Catherine was speechless. Golan continued resentfully, “We originally agreed to make Sophia hand over 3.5 million Gold Sol. Why the sudden change of heart?”

Large merchant associations were nominally under the control of the commercial nobility, but without the King’s endorsement, no lord would recognize them, and the idea of an unimpeded caravan was a joke. Therefore, in the King’s eyes, the profits earned by an association belonged to the Royal Family. But wealth is a bewildering temptation, and the commercial nobility was never willing to hand over such huge fortunes. The Royal Family never showed mercy to greedy commercial nobles, fleecing them once every few decades and replacing the head of the family to prevent a situation where a subordinate grew too powerful to control. This had become almost standard practice for all kingdoms regarding their commercial nobility, yet not a single commercial noble was ever willing to surrender their assets voluntarily.

Sophia’s act of transferring the merchant association’s funds had deeply angered the Auguste family. However, the Night Owl’s elite spies had already located the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild’s hidden gold, and Sophia herself had intricate connections with the Centaur Hills, controlling the trade of Purple Cane wine and raw sugar.

Considering Sophia still had significant value and the association’s wealth was under surveillance, the Royal Family had refrained from taking extreme measures against her.

However, when Sophia established a connection with Arreat, her role immediately changed from that of a commercial noble to a diplomatic envoy. It was no longer possible for her to lead the Wimbledon Merchant Association, and the Auguste family’s attitude changed accordingly.

The Royal Family’s think tank concluded that diplomacy with the barbarians held little practical significance for the Kingdom of Gambia. The only benefit of Aerie Fortress cooperating with the Church was a pretext to use the bigger picture of diplomacy to suppress the southern bloc of lords and build a port in Earl Chapman’s domain, shifting the kingdom’s strategic focus from the north to the south. The key to this strategy was that the Royal Family had to hold control of the port, and the construction costs would naturally be borne by them.

Under these circumstances, there was little point in Aerie Fortress trying to win over Sophia.

Marquess Golan, Williams, and Catherine quickly reached a consensus: retrieve the merchant association’s wealth and let Sophia seek refuge in the Centaur Hills.

The money was indeed taken, but not by Night Owl spies. It was taken by the people of the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild. The Night Owl had simply watched as four million Gold Sol were taken to the Centaur Hills by the merchants’ guild, taking no action whatsoever.

When Marquess Golan learned that the Night Owl had stood by and done nothing on the orders of Grand Duke Williams and Roland, he was absolutely furious. But those two had just packed up and run off to the Centaur Hills, leaving him no choice but to demand an explanation from Catherine.

Catherine fell silent for a moment before speaking softly, “When we went to see Sophia, Roland told her about the Night Owl’s surveillance of the hidden gold. She also said that since Victor was her student, the money was to be considered a gift from the Royal Family to Sophia and Victor. Williams agreed…”

“So, you were in on it too, and I was the only one in the dark!”

Marquess Golan’s eyes blazed with fire. In a tone of utter disappointment, he said, “Roland does nothing productive all day. I thought Williams would be different, but it turns out none of the Auguste descendants are reliable! Catherine, how could you let them act so recklessly?!”

“Sophia is, after all, a court marquess, and a peak Silver Knight…” Catherine explained weakly.

“Does Sophia have even a shred of loyalty to the Auguste family? An unloyal Silver Knight isn’t worth buying over with four million Gold Sol. If she were lucky enough to advance to Gold Knight, even forty million wouldn’t be enough to win her over.”

Marquess Golan clasped his hands behind his back and said coldly, “Tell me, what are you all really hiding?”

Catherine twisted her slender, fair fingers together, her heart in a similar tangle.

Roland couldn’t suppress her adventurous nature and planned to leave Gambis to seek an opportunity to step into the legendary realm. Before she left, she had to reach an understanding with Sylvia to ensure Gambis was secure. The money was a sign of Roland’s sincerity. How could she tell Golan this? The other reason involved Catherine’s own private matters, which she also couldn’t bring herself to speak of.

Marquess Golan’s expression shifted, his gaze turning to the wall behind the throne. Before long, a secret door appeared in the wall. Two capable and agile young guards emerged, supporting an old man with sparse hair and a wrinkled face. Catherine, who had already been waiting by the secret door, curtsied to the old man and gently took his arm. The guards bowed to the Queen and Marquess Golan before retreating silently back into the passage. The secret door creaked shut, becoming a wall once more.

Marquess Golan stepped forward, bowed, and said respectfully, “Lord Tofwen, what brings you here?”

With the Queen’s support, the old man sat down on the sofa and broke into a toothless smile. “Golan, I’ve come to give you an explanation.”

The old man was the Auguste family’s potion-maker. He was not well-known, but the Royal Chief Potion-maker wasn’t fit to carry his shoes. Because Tofwen was no ordinary man—he was a Wizard.

Tofwen came from a vassal family under the Auguste family. At the age of eight, he underwent training as an attendant at Aerie Fortress, and at ten, he awakened his talent for Wizardry. The king at the time immediately hid Tofwen away and had all attendants who knew of the matter silenced. In this way, Tofwen became the Auguste family’s secretly kept Wizard.

Tofwen possessed three talents for Wizardry: Potion Mastery, Insight into Growth, and Directed Growth.

Potion Mastery: Tofwen could understand the nutritional, medicinal, and toxic properties of a plant with his naked eye.

Insight into Growth: Through skin contact, Tofwen could clearly grasp a living being’s growth status and its ultimate potential.

Directed Growth: Using potions and food as a medium, Tofwen could control a living being’s development, allowing it to reach its growth limit or even break through it.

Therefore, Directed Growth was divided into Comprehensive Growth and Extreme Growth. Extreme Growth had various restrictions but could achieve unbelievable results.

As an extraordinary, Tofwen was very weak, unable to even manifest wizardry runes, but his abilities were of immeasurable value to the Auguste family.

With Potion Mastery alone, Tofwen could become the most brilliant of potion masters, and the Auguste family had indeed arranged for him to study under one. The Auguste family’s cleansing potions and Vigor Potions, improved by Tofwen, saw a massive increase in effectiveness while their cost was significantly reduced. This was also why the Auguste family could maintain over a thousand Swift Dragon Knights.

The Body-Tempering Potions, healing potions, berserk potions, and the special growth potions for the Swift Dragons in the Auguste family’s possession were all personally formulated by Tofwen, and their effects were equally outstanding.

The Night Owl had a three-hundred-man death commando squad. Every member had consumed a Comprehensive Growth potion tailor-made for them by Tofwen. Their physical conditioning surpassed the limits of ordinary men, reaching the level of a grade-three Sacred Warrior—equivalent to the strength of three men. If not for Tofwen being too busy and the cost of the potions, this squad could have been even larger.

Most critically, the potions Tofwen formulated were ineffective on Extraordinary Knights, but they worked on regular Knights and nobles.

The late Queen Linda, who came from a lordship family, had a knight’s bloodline so weak it was negligible. In order to bear an exceptional heir, she ignored Ryan’s objections and consumed Tofwen’s Extreme Growth potion. This was how the brilliantly talented Princess Roland was born. But Linda paid the price with a shortened lifespan; her life force was exhausted when Roland was still young, and not even Archbishop Lazarus himself could save her.

Queen Catherine’s aptitude could only be considered average. She took Tofwen’s Comprehensive Growth potions over a long period, her bloodline was strengthened, and she successfully stepped into the extraordinary realm. Prince Edward, Grand Duke Williams and his children, and Marquess Golan’s children had all benefited from Tofwen’s work.

It could be said that Tofwen’s contribution to the Auguste family’s endless stream of High-ranked Knights was immeasurable.

Tofwen used potions to push his own intelligence and lifespan beyond their limits. He was one hundred twenty-three years old and had served four generations of monarchs, but he had also lost the ability to have children. Childless his entire life, he regarded the Auguste offspring as his own descendants, serving the Royal Family with all his heart.

Marquess Golan was filled with respect and gratitude for this highly distinguished family elder. He only sat down after Tofwen gestured for him to do so.

“This story begins eleven years ago…”

Tofwen closed his eyes in contemplation for a moment, then spoke slowly, “A child came to Aerie Fortress, and Catherine asked me to concoct a potion for him. That child’s name was Victor Wimbledon.”

Chapter 342: The Secret of the Bloodline (Part 2)

Marquess Golan’s face was dark. Tofwen was the Auguste family’s most precious asset. To protect his secrets, only core members of the family were permitted to enjoy his care. For Catherine to have let Tofwen come into contact with Victor was nothing short of audacious.

“Don’t blame Catherine. I’ve long wanted to study the Moon Elf bloodline. It’s rare to come across such a specimen; how could I possibly let the chance slip by?”

Tofwen said with a smile, “Every time I was near the boy, he was fast asleep and completely unaware of my existence. You needn’t worry about him leaking any secrets.”

Marquess Golan’s expression softened slightly, and he nodded in silence. Tofwen continued, “In my eyes, a bloodline is a visible force. That boy possesses two bloodlines: one is ordinary human, the other Moon Elf. However, his elven bloodline is extremely weak, completely suppressed by his human bloodline. Under normal circumstances, it would be impossible for him to awaken the Wind Walk talent, and the probability of his descendants becoming wind-element Great Knights would also be very small.”

“The Comprehensive Growth potion could no longer strengthen his Moon Elf bloodline, so I used the Extreme Growth potion instead.” Tofwen took a sip of coffee and explained, “‘Extreme Growth’ always has a trade-off. If hearing becomes sharper, vision suffers. If the body becomes stronger, intelligence declines. It’s like the two ends of a scale; if one side goes up, the other must go down. My Wizardry can tip the scale, but it cannot change reality.”

“By the same token, to strengthen Victor’s elven bloodline, his human bloodline had to be suppressed. And the most significant difference between elven and human bloodlines lies in fertility. Therefore, the Extreme Growth potion I formulated for him locked away his reproductive ability, creating space for his Moon Elf bloodline to grow.”

Tofwen paused, then continued, “Of course, my Wizardry is weak. I can’t directly alter reality like Koman; I can only achieve the effect of growth through potions. The natural variations in plants make the potions unpredictable, so I must spend a great deal of time monitoring the subject’s development and making adjustments at any moment. Even so, I could not guarantee success. Moreover, that was my first encounter with a Moon Elf bloodline, and I had no experience…” As he spoke, Tofwen gave a wry smile. “I spent three years and a colossal sum of money, yet I came up with nothing.”

Marquess Golan said solemnly, “Master Tofwen, in fact, you did succeed.”

“Yes.” Tofwen smiled, gratified. “I heard about what happened with Victor. His current condition matches the growth trajectory I designed. The fact that he still has no children is proof enough that I did indeed succeed. It seems those four hundred thousand Gold Sol were not spent in vain.”

Catherine interjected with an explanation, “To ensure Master Tofwen’s research progressed, I directly ordered the Stag Merchants’ Guild to procure many rare herbs and plants. I even altered the caravan’s trade routes. The procurement costs, plus the caravan’s lost profits, exceeded eight hundred thousand Gold Sol. It was because of this incident that Sophia became wary of me, which ultimately led to her betrayal.”

“So, you invested eight hundred thousand Gold Sol, and the Wind Walk Archer you painstakingly cultivated still ended up in Sylvia’s hands.” Golan shot Catherine a cold glance, then turned to the old wizard. “Master, are you saying that Victor cannot have children?”

“What use is a mere Wind Walk Archer? If I couldn’t obtain an ancient bloodline for a Wind Knight, how could that demonstrate my skill?”

Tofwen said proudly, “Through Victor, I glimpsed the secrets of the Moon Elves. Male Moon Elves can live up to 380 years. They are only able to reproduce after the age of sixty-five and possess the innate abilities of dim vision, extraordinary agility, Blind Sense, Wind Walk, Surge, and Wind Whisper.”

Marquess Golan mused, “I know of the other talents, but ‘Wind Whisper’… this is the first I’ve heard of it.”

“It’s a name I came up with, modeled after Wind Walk,” Tofwen said with a wave of his hand. “Moon Elves can communicate with the omnipresent void wind element, perceiving scenes beyond their line of sight as if they were seeing them with their own eyes. The stronger the Wind Whisper ability, the greater the perception distance, with a maximum of twenty kilometers. The chance of triggering the Wind Whisper talent is extremely low; it ought to be the ultimate talent of the Moon Elves.”

“Young Victor could not possibly awaken the Wind Whisper talent. His bloodline doesn’t have that kind of potential.”

Golan’s expression remained unchanged, but his mind was in turmoil. The Sword Saint Draven had been cornered by the Radiant Knights five times, and each time he had escaped unscathed. It reached a point where the Radiant Knights suspected a traitor in their midst, which was also what led the paladin Alijie to fall into Draven’s arms. Later, Draven led the Spirit Knight Veronica and several legendary paladins, cleverly evading the Centaur scouts, to infiltrate the Ogre King’s lair. Then, as if by a miracle, he lured away the Ogre guards and successfully slew the City-Breaker, Vol’gan. These feats were more than enough to prove that Draven had mastered the art of Wind Whisper.

As a Pinnacle Knight who could communicate with the Elemental Sea, Marquess Golan understood all elemental changes. He knew full well that a “Wind Whisper” that allowed one to see as if with one’s own eyes required not only an affinity for the wind element, but also an incredibly strong spirit to form complex information into images. And spiritual power corresponded to fire element affinity.

Victor also possessed the trait of fire element affinity!

Did all these signs together not strongly suggest a high probability of a bloodline mutation in Victor? A Wind Walk Archer with over-the-horizon perception was already invincible. If he also mastered the Flowing Fire Arrow, he would be an unsolvable problem.

The thought that the future Sword Saint, cultivated with the family’s precious resources, had actually defected to Sylvia’s side made a knot of frustration tighten in Marquess Golan’s chest. “That’s not necessarily true,” he said gloomily.

The room fell into a deathly silence. Tofwen pondered for a long while before saying, bewildered, “I heard about Victor’s affinity for the fire element, but I am certain I detected no anomaly in his elven bloodline at the time. Could it be that some external factor induced a mutation in his bloodline?”

Tofwen was an authority on biological bloodlines, but without the accumulated knowledge of predecessors, he was exploring on his own, so mistakes and omissions were inevitable. Golan, however, knew that it was impossible to clearly perceive scenes from kilometers away without immense spiritual power. But he did not want to hurt Tofwen’s pride with his own speculations.

Catherine sensed Golan’s simmering anger and quickly defended herself. “Even if young Victor displayed the Wind Walk talent, I would not have let him leave Aerie Fortress.”

“This isn’t Catherine’s fault.” Tofwen shook his head, vexed. “It was I who gave up on young Victor. His Moon Elf bloodline lacked potential, and despite using every means at my disposal, his growth was still painstakingly slow. At best, he would only reach the level of extraordinary agility. I thought he had no further value for cultivation… I never expected to have let a Wind Walk Archer with such a noble bloodline slip through my fingers.”

Marquess Golan offered some comfort, “Master, from what I know, Victor didn’t attract Sylvia’s attention at first, either. On his way to take up his post, he was ambushed by a Savage Gnoll at close range. At that moment of life and death, the potential in his bloodline was awakened, and he grasped the Wind Walk talent, similar to a Knight’s Trial of Life and Death. If you hadn’t suppressed his human bloodline, I suspect he would have perished right then and there.”

Tofwen nodded. “Let’s return to the main topic. Young Victor’s human bloodline is in a dormant state. If he wants to have children, he can only do so after the age of sixty-five. Ordinary nobles with elven bloodlines do not have this restriction. Alternatively, he could take another potion to reactivate his human bloodline.”

“Sixty-five years old… which means everyone will assume Victor is incapable of siring heirs,” Marquess Golan murmured to himself. He suddenly stood up, staring into Catherine’s eyes, and asked in a low voice, “Your Majesty, why didn’t you give Victor Master Tofwen’s antidote back then?”

“Sophia was very disobedient. How could I possibly let her bear an heir?” Catherine said, her expression cold.

Marquess Golan slowly sat back down. “Does Williams know about this too? When did you tell him?” he asked.

“Before we went to see Sophia.”

Golan nodded, speaking each word with emphasis. “Catherine, your selfish motives run deep indeed!”

Catherine’s eyes were downcast, her gaze fixed on her fingertips. She bit her lip, her expression calm as she said, “But I did tell them in the end. Both Master Tofwen and Williams have forgiven me. Your Highness Golan, I pray for your forgiveness as well.”

Golan now understood everything.

Night Owl’s assessment of Baron Tyrrell was: average bloodline, insidiously cunning. Catherine had clearly inherited the traits of the Tyrrell family.

When she first married into Aerie Fortress, Catherine played the part of a dutiful wife and mother, adhering to all the rules. She neither courted the powerful nor promoted her own relatives, but she was still making moves in the shadows.

Roland was unwilling to be queen, and Ryan had no desire to go against his beloved daughter’s wishes and cut short her path as a Knight. Prince Edward thus became the First Princess’s substitute.

However, Catherine’s bloodline and family background were ordinary. The important members of the Royal Family generally looked down on her, and the disdain from Marquess Golan and Williams, in particular, influenced the attitudes of many others. If Catherine wanted to earn the respect of the Royal Capital’s nobles, the support of Ryan and Roland alone was not enough. But if she could win the favor of the family elder, Tofwen, her and Edward’s situation would be entirely different.

Managing the Ministry of Internal Affairs was the Queen’s duty. Through the Ministry’s spies, Catherine discovered young Victor but kept the matter hidden. Not only did Catherine need to curry favor with Tofwen, but she also had to demonstrate her own capabilities to the family elder. Research material on the Moon Elf bloodline was certainly a way to appeal to his interests, but it was impossible without financial backing. Catherine planned to exclude the other members of the Royal Family from the cultivation project, which meant she had to solve the funding problem herself. Thus, she began to vie with Williams for control of the Wimbledon Merchant Association.

Ryan was likely aware of the plan to cultivate a Sword Saint bloodline, but he also hoped for the Queen to achieve something of her own to impress the Royal Family, thereby securing Prince Edward’s right of succession. That was why he remained neutral in the conflict between Catherine and Williams.

Ryan’s neutrality was, in itself, a form of favoritism, as Sophia was no match for Soren in any respect. But with Roland’s help, Catherine still managed to defeat Williams.

Unfortunately, young Victor proved to be unpromising, and the Sword Saint cultivation project was shelved. However, Catherine’s political debut was a great success, and she earned Tofwen’s approval. But the best-laid plans can go awry. Ryan tragically died in battle, and Williams rose to the occasion to save the day. The voices of the Royal Capital’s nobles calling for him to succeed the throne were loud, and Catherine and Edward’s situation immediately became precarious.

Catherine did not have many cards to play, and the Wimbledon Merchant Association became a crucial piece. Under these circumstances, she absolutely could not allow Sophia to slip from her control. Locking young Victor’s fertility was, therefore, a logical step.

Victor’s sudden rise was astonishing and enviable, but by now, he had become Sylvia’s lover.

In truth, Golan bore a great deal of responsibility for Victor’s departure. If he hadn’t forced Roland to marry Andre, Catherine would not have fallen into Sophia’s trap, allowing the York family to reap a huge benefit.

Golan admitted that Catherine’s actions were understandable, but her concealment of Victor’s secret infuriated him. If Williams had still been a threat to Edward’s position, it would have been excusable for Catherine to keep a card up her sleeve. But now, with Williams having renounced his claim to the throne, for Catherine to still keep such a vital matter secret… her true intentions were plain to see.

“Even if Victor is spurned by Sylvia in the future, he won’t take an antidote from an unknown source. How do you plan to win him over?” Golan asked indifferently.

Catherine’s fair face instantly flushed crimson. Golan sneered, “A Great Knight, blushing? I’ve seen you sweat twice, and now I finally understand. Like the late Queen Linda, you have taken a Fertility Potion. Linda’s was targeted for Ryan’s constitution, while yours is for Victor! That’s why you can’t use your Aura at all, lest the potion’s effects be purged by the void element.”

“Linda paid with her life to conceive Roland. But you, all you have to do is circulate your Aura, and your body will quickly recover. You’ll also gain an outstanding heir and a powerful lover. If Victor becomes the second Sword Saint, I ask you, who would dare to disrespect you then?!”

Catherine pressed her lips together tightly, her face turning from red to white as tears welled up in her eyes. Golan snorted coldly. “When did you start taking the Fertility Potion?”

Catherine took a deep breath and said, “After the Ant-man plague. At that time, neither you nor Williams were willing to acknowledge Edward’s right to the throne. I had to make other plans.”

Golan nodded, saying bluntly, “You should stop. Roland is the best partner for Victor…”

The old wizard suddenly interjected, “Golan, can you defeat Roland in a fight? Do you know what she’s thinking? Can you make Roland actively pursue Victor?”

Golan stared at the family elder in astonishment. “Master, wasn’t it you who…”

Tofwen pointed at Catherine and laughed heartily. “I never asked about this matter at all. Her Majesty the Queen brought it up of her own volition.”

“Catherine, I am very pleased. You have not disappointed me in the end. You were able to overcome your own desires at a critical moment and reveal Victor’s secret. You are truly worthy of being the queen of the Auguste family!” Tofwen said kindly. “In truth, Victor’s bloodline isn’t what’s important; what’s important is your own conviction. Though I am no Knight, I too understand the meaning of protection. I hope you can find your own path. Whether you reach the pinnacle in the future or not, you will live without regrets.”

Catherine stared dazedly at the wise old man, then rose to her feet and performed a solemn Knight’s salute. A green light enveloped her body as the void water element washed the Fertility Potion from her system.

Tofwen then turned to Golan. “Who doesn’t have selfish motives? Without selfish motives, would the Kingdom of Gambia even exist? Hmph, every last descendant of the Auguste family has gone astray. Let’s not even mention Roland. Who knows how long Williams can hold on, and I’m afraid Edward won’t be much better!”

“If the King neglects his duties, someone has to get things done, right? If there’s no benefit in it, who would still risk their life for the Auguste family?”

“You are right, My lord,” Marquess Golan said with utmost respect. “Not a single one in the Auguste family’s direct line is reliable!”

Tofwen and Golan looked at each other, both shaking their heads and sighing.

The knight’s bloodline of the Auguste family was that of an adventurer—they were romantic by nature, full of passion and curiosity about life. Compared to guardians, adventurers found it easier to advance to Gold Knight and didn’t have to worry about a loss of humanity. As their bloodline strengthened, even a cultivated sense of responsibility struggled to suppress their innate nature. If not for the urging of their followers, the ancestors of the Auguste family would have preferred to be Rangers or Bards. It was precisely because of this that the Gambis Royal Family needed not only guardians and scholars, but also schemers.

Although Catherine had selfish motives, the situation she had created was incredibly advantageous for the Auguste family.

“Do you understand what’s happening now?” Tofwen said, turning his head to Marquess Golan.

“The four million Gold Sol wasn’t to win over Sophia, but to win Victor’s goodwill and simultaneously lull Sylvia into a false sense of security,” Marquess Golan said with a relaxed smile.

Tofwen nodded, then said to Catherine, “Tell us your plan.”

“There isn’t much of a plan, really. Everything will fall into place naturally,” Catherine said faintly. “The Randell Fief is an independent fief; we absolutely cannot compromise on this point. Without an heir, Victor has no way to integrate into the York family. If we spread the rumor that Victor is infertile, his women will leave him, and Sylvia will lose interest in him. Victor is not a Pinnacle Knight; he does not have unwavering beliefs and will still be swayed by his emotions. When he is at his lowest, if we extend a helping hand, we will surely win back his trust and gratitude.”

“The Randell Fief is very important to the York family. Since Victor is wavering, the lords of the York family will naturally try to seize his territory. When that happens, Victor will return to Aerie Fortress.” Catherine’s eyes burned with intensity. “We made Victor what he is. He can only belong to the Auguste family!”

Tofwen remained noncommittal. “Golan, what do you think?” he asked.

Golan nodded in approval, adding, “Even if the matter is exposed, it doesn’t matter. Without us, there would be no Victor today, nor would there be a future for him. Sylvia would have nothing to say.”

Tofwen leaned back against the sofa, closed his eyes, and said wearily, “Young Victor will not be coming back. We have already lost him.”

“Victor’s talent is more attractive to Sylvia than his bloodline. Even if he were an ordinary person, Sylvia would still treasure him.”

Catherine frowned. “You believe the water project and the New Agro-husbandry are Victor’s masterpieces? From what I know, Victor did indeed propose these ideas, but they were only realized after being refined by Master Edwin. Night Owl’s spies have confirmed that the Ant-men uprooted the Purple Cane forest in the Randell Fief, which turned over the soil. After the farmers of Randell Fief planted their crops, they discovered the yields increased significantly. Only then did Victor begin to experiment with the method of deep plowing and careful cultivation.”

Tofwen opened his cloudy old eyes and shook his head. “Compared to Night Owl’s spies, I trust Sylvia’s wisdom more. Victor is not yet a Sword Saint. How could a mere Wind Walk Archer win the favor of a Spirit Knight?”

“You’re all missing the point.” The old wizard lifted his cup, took a sip of coffee, and rallied his spirits. “Regardless of whether the New Agro-husbandry is Victor’s masterpiece or not, this great invention will undoubtedly usher in a new era. The York family is already ahead. If we continue to fixate on Victor’s allegiance, the gap between us and the York family will be reversed.”

“Whether Victor can become a Sword Saint is still uncertain, but Sylvia is without a doubt the strongest person alive today. Politics is about allying with the strong. Wooing Victor is less effective than wooing the York family.”

“However…” The old wizard’s tone shifted. “Victor’s secret is an excellent card to have up our sleeve. We can now freely suppress the York family, establish the authority of the Royal Family, and at the same time, elevate Victor’s prestige. When the time is right, a single dose of the antidote can quell Sylvia’s anger and also win us Victor’s bloodline and friendship.”

Tofwen gave his instructions. “When Edward holds his coronation ceremony, arrange for me to meet with Victor. I will re-formulate the Fertility Potion based on Victor’s current bloodline status and then select a suitable high-ranking female knight to take it long-term.”

Marquess Golan flatly refused. “Master, that is too risky. I cannot agree to it.”

Tofwen shook his head and smiled. “It’s fine. The formula for the Strength Potion is already complete. I’ve lived long enough anyway, with only twelve years left. If I can truly create a Sword Saint, I wouldn’t care even if the Church burns me at the stake.”

“Besides, which great noble hasn’t kept a Wizard?”

Chapter 343: Schemes

On the banks of the Silvermoon River, hundreds of tents, stables, and carriages had transformed a vast meadow into a giant encampment. In addition to the Knight-Nobles and their retainers, there were over ten thousand commoners who had come to spectate the tournament.

Soldiers in gleaming chainmail, steeds adorned with gold and silver, a high-spirited crowd, children running amok, bards in peculiar attire, acrobats performing with all their might, boorish mercenaries, loudly hawking peddlers, and the vibrant banners fluttering in the wind… Victor almost thought he had arrived at a grand amusement park.

The tournament was a grand event for a lord to select talented individuals, but for the common folk, it was a rare and festive celebration. During the tournament, the lines between anoble and commoner were blurred. The duels between Knights were also a spectacular performance, and the commoners were just there for the excitement. Right now, a large group was standing on their tiptoes, craning their necks to get a look at Victor’s entourage—mostly to see the Swiftbirds.

The tall and majestic Swiftbirds were indeed eye-catching. On any other day, the native residents of the Centaur Hills would have scattered at the sight of Swiftbird light cavalry, but today, they too mingled with the outsiders, offering their own commentary on the birds. However, Swiftbirds were, after all, terrestrial birds of prey. With their sharp eyes, ax-like beaks, and massive talons, they looked imposing and hard to provoke. Aided by some locals constantly boasting to the outsiders about how dangerous the Swiftbirds were, the onlookers spontaneously kept their distance from the light cavalry, not daring to block Victor’s path.

The Swiftbird light cavalry cut through the crowd like a pair of shears, and before long, they reached the lords’ camping area. The guards of the York family opened the movable fence, and Victor’s personal guard filed in.

Dozens of lordly families were participating in the tournament. Each family’s camp was more or less the same, their identities only distinguishable by the sigils on their banners. Victor glanced around and saw three banners embroidered with a silver moon and a nightingale—the family crest of Wimbledon.

Victor had no heir, so the Church could not record the bloodline of House of Randell. This meant the Gambia Senate could not confirm the legitimacy of the Randell family, which in turn meant Victor’s siblings had a claim to the Randell Fief. Therefore, Victor could only temporarily continue to use the silver moon sigil of his paternal family.

The other two banners represented the camps of Marquess Sophia and Viscount Soren, respectively.

Sophia possessed neither the Wimbledon family bloodline nor an heir, so her title was not secure. Soren, on the other hand, already had a fief and an heir, yet he hadn’t established a new family and still retained the Wimbledon surname. His actions were rather intriguing.

A court marquessate was the pinnacle for a court noble. The family of a Court Marquess served the Royal Family for generations and could only possess a hereditary fief, not an independent one. If a child of the family was invested as a landed lord, they had to renounce their right to inherit the title and establish a new family.

Just imagine if a Court Marquess’s family held great power at court while also expanding its territory abroad. After several centuries, who would be the true masters of the kingdom?

The right of succession was never a small matter. As a Court Marquess family in Gambia, the descendants of the Wimbledons who were granted fiefs were also required to give up their surname and start their own new families. The fact that Soren could retain the Wimbledon name was by no means his own decision, but an arrangement by the Royal Family. The purpose, of course, was to allow Soren to one day reclaim the Wimbledon marquessate.

Same family crest, but different allegiances. Victor could discern the owners of the tents just by their positions. The one right next to the Auguste family’s royal tent definitely belonged to Soren. The one beside the York family’s camp was naturally Randell’s. The remaining green tent stood alone in the northwest corner, its forlorn appearance mirroring Sophia’s current predicament.

Victor steered his Swiftbird toward Sophia’s tent. The lords of the York family did not disturb him, but countless pairs of eyes secretly watched his every move.

Any visit to Sophia would attract the attention and suspicion of various powers, but as Sophia’s husband, it was perfectly natural for Victor to go to his wife’s tent. It was not for others to comment.

Compared to other factions, the Centaur Hills held an unparalleled advantage in winning over Sophia.

When he was still more than three hundred meters from Sophia’s tent, Victor suddenly reined in his Swiftbird.

“My lord, what are your orders?” One-Eyed Dragon Gru approached, asking cautiously.

The House of Randell needed an heir. If there was no heir, they needed a matriarch of noble blood. The vassals of House Randell were eagerly anticipating the viscount’s wife’s return, but the entanglement between Victor and Sophia was no secret. Lilia did not want to see Narsen held in contempt by either Victor or Sophia for saying the wrong thing, and this little woman’s admonitions to her brother and sister-in-law had already spread throughout the families of the work point system’s members.

Sophia was stunningly beautiful, wealthy, and well-connected. Victor was quite satisfied with this wife of his, but something suddenly occurred to him: he couldn’t defeat Sophia in a fight.

Would a man still want his beautiful wife if he couldn’t beat her? Most men certainly would. But what if she could poke him to death with a single finger? Would any man still dare to have her? Probably some who didn’t fear death… but if you had a score of lovers on the side, what right did you have to want her? Other than making her fall completely in love with you, there was likely no other guarantee of safety.

Victor’s relationship with Sylvia was a case of ignorance being bliss. He had a deep emotional foundation with Nicole, and Gillian had once exposed her most vulnerable side to him. Sophia was completely different from these women. She was a Great Knight who had survived the Trial of Life and Death; no one could intimidate her, not even Sylvia. Even if Sophia wouldn’t kill Victor, if she wanted to leave, Victor couldn’t stop her.

If Victor wanted to have Sophia, he had to capture her heart. But Sophia was no naive maiden. She had betrayed the little Baron before and harbored a sense of guilt toward Victor. If he rushed over to see her now, even a fool would know he had ulterior motives.

Just a moment ago, Victor had heard Sophia talking with another woman. Now, the tent had fallen silent; they had clearly noticed his approach. Victor felt he should continue to play the part of the victim. He tugged on the reins, urging his Swiftbird toward Viscount Negus’s tent.

The flap of the green tent was lifted, and Sophia walked out with a beautiful noblewoman.

The woman had delicate features, a tall and athletic build, and a rare mane of blue hair cut to her ears, giving her a heroic and sharp look. Staring at Victor’s back, she teased, “Sophia, is that your husband? He really is a handsome and charming little man.”

“Princess Anqi, Victor is no little man now…” Sophia reined in her complicated gaze and rolled her eyes at her friend, saying irritably, “Besides, you didn’t even see his face.”

Princess Anqi licked her upper lip and smiled charmingly. “Nobles with a Moon Elf bloodline have always been known for their beauty. Do I need to doubt his looks? Besides, at our level, it’s an extraordinary bloodline that truly attracts us. Most importantly, Moon Elf nobles pose no threat to us and are particularly easy to seduce. Living with such a partner would be very reassuring. A pity he doesn’t seem to have forgiven you. I guess he’s off to find a lover, to make a point.”

“Never mind him.” Sophia tossed her hair and said, “Anqi, what do you think of my proposal just now?”

Anqi said, “My dear Sophia, I can guarantee that Bronze-Halberd City and the Teutonic Duchy will protect the interests of the Wimbledon Merchant Association. However, you should know that the Sasan Empire’s stance on the major merchant associations will not change, and that includes the Southwind Merchant Association from the Kingdom of Borea. You want us to follow the Dodor Kingdom’s example and secretly strike at the Southwind Merchants’ Guild. That is almost impossible.”

Sophia’s fine brows arched. “Anqi, the Dodor Kingdom wants to negotiate with me. What kind of demands do you think they’ll make?”

Anqi stared into Sophia’s eyes. Sophia met her gaze without flinching. After a moment, Anqi shook her head. “Sophia, even if you join the Dodor Kingdom, we will not change our position.” After a pause, she smiled. “Do you know where the problem lies?”

“I’m all ears.”

“Because anyone can become part of the commercial nobility. You are too easily replaced,” Anqi explained further. “Sasan needs the Wimbledon Merchant Association, but not necessarily Sophia’s Wimbledon Merchant Association. If you side with Dodor, we will sever our trade with your association. To survive, the association must find a new master, and that master can only be a noble from the Kingdom of Gambia, the Kingdom of Sus, or the Kingdom of Borea. Meanwhile, you will have become a lord in Dodor.”

“If I were King Friedrich, I certainly wouldn’t try to recruit you. It would be pointless and would risk provoking an all-out war. The barbarians aren’t fools; they won’t be easily drawn into the struggles of human kingdoms. Elder Harald has been observing the tournament with the Pontiff these past few days. To him, Knight duels are practically children’s games, yet he has patiently watched them. This shows that the barbarians are eager to understand humans; they need allies too. That being the case, why would Arreat choose to ally with a distant southern kingdom instead of its powerful neighbors?”

“Honestly, you’re not as important as you think you are, at least not enough to sway the will of the barbarians,” Anqi said with a sigh. “My dear Sophia, I hope you won’t be angry with me for saying this.”

“No, Anqi, you are my true friend. I’m grateful for your honesty. But, I’m truly not resigned to this…”

Sophia’s brows knitted slightly, her sorrowful, beautiful face heart-wrenching to behold. Anqi couldn’t help but persuade her, “Sophia, staying in the Centaur Hills is your best choice. You help Sylvia build her port. To the east, you have the Boreans tying down the main forces of the barbarian kingdom. Once Sylvia is ready, the Gambis army can cross the river and march south; conquering a vast territory is not just a fantasy. You can also use Harald’s strength to help Sylvia expand her domain, and in turn, use Sylvia’s power to help Harald find his sacred object. With such merits, plus a spouse of noble blood, you and Victor would be able to establish a ducal family. Is that not better than a mere merchant association?”

Sophia nodded silently, then broke into a smile. “You’re right. So, I can still be willful for a while. If it really doesn’t work out, I’ll just content myself with being Victor’s wife.”

Anqi was taken aback for a moment, then she shook her head and chuckled. “Sophia, you’re really stubborn… Never mind. This concerns your path as a Knight. No one can distort your will; only you can change your own creed of protection.”

Sophia pouted, saying dismissively, “I didn’t think that far ahead. I just want to protect my merchant association. If I don’t even have the courage to try, why should I pursue the power of the Elemental Sea?”

“As you wish… Huh, isn’t that Lord Tournans? Who is that man beside him? Why is he performing a vassal’s salute to Victor?” Princess Anqi asked abruptly.

Sophia looked up and said, “That’s Lord Narsen, a Ferocious Warrior under Victor’s command. He is said to have Silver-rank strength. As they are both Ferocious Warriors, it’s not surprising to see him with Tournans.”

“So, the House of Randell has three Silver-rank experts? Sophia, if you complete the barbarian’s request, House Randell will also have a Gold Berserker and two Silver-rank Weapon Masters… That’s truly an enviable amount of power,” Anqi said with a smile, then added in surprise, “Isn’t Victor heading toward the camp of Viscount Negus, the Dodor Kingdom’s Bow-Bearer?”

Sophia saw Victor leading Tournans and Narsen toward Viscount Negus’s tent. Her gaze sharpened. After a moment of thought, she gave Princess Anqi an apologetic nod. “Anqi, my apologies, but I should accompany my husband to visit our neighbors. Please excuse me.”

With that, Sophia strode towards Viscount Negus’s tent.

“My lord, I’m here! Wait for me!”

Victor reined in his Swiftbird and turned to see Narsen running over at a brisk pace, pulling along a robust man in a short priest’s robe.

The man dressed as a priest was bald and browless, his bronze skin gleaming as if cast from metal. His entire being exuded a sense of solid weight, yet his steps were lithe and nimble, his speed like a galloping horse’s, though he seemed to be taking a leisurely stroll. Heaviness and lightness, speed and leisure—these opposites were somehow miraculously harmonious in his being.

Bald and browless? Likes to masquerade as a priest? Wasn’t this the legendary Sacred Warrior, Tournans?

Victor dismounted his Swiftbird just as Narsen and the Sacred Warrior arrived before him.

“My lord, let me introduce you.” Narsen clapped the Sacred Warrior on the shoulder and said excitedly, “This is Priest Tournans. He’s also a Ferocious Warrior, much stronger than I am. I’ve never won an arm-wrestling match against him!”

Of course you haven’t! The gap in your strength is like the gap between a Silver Knight and Sylvia…

Victor rolled his eyes mentally and took the initiative to salute the legendary Sacred Warrior. “Lord Tournans, good day.”

Tournans gave a reserved nod, his expression solemn and holy. “May our Lord guide your path.” After speaking, he scrutinized Victor with a curious gaze.

Victor was equally curious about Tournans. This was the First Sacred Warrior, highly praised by Sylvia, a powerhouse on par with the three Legendary Knights.

What Victor admired most about Tournans wasn’t his strength or divine arts, but his miraculous martial skill. Sylvia had shown Victor Tournans’ technique for training spiritual power—Single-Hand Flower Bloom—and said frankly that if Victor could master it, he could reach the legendary realm.

Only after trying it himself did Victor deeply appreciate how incredible Tournans was. Causing a flower bud to bloom by vibrating its stem was a test of minutely detailed control over one’s power. Victor, even with the X-3, couldn’t make the petals bloom consecutively, yet Tournans, whose strength was ten times Victor’s, could perfectly master that immense power to an unbelievable degree. It was worth noting that Tournans was not an Extraordinary Knight. In fact, even a Gold Knight, whose body and mind were one and who could perceive the changes in the elements, couldn’t do it. But a Ferocious Warrior had.

Tournans had set a benchmark: it turned out that through training, a mortal’s spiritual power could surpass the level of a Gold Knight.

Observing Tournans up close, Victor was surprised to find that his heart rate was extremely slow, pulsing once every 6.4 seconds. This indicated his bodily functions and lifespan far exceeded those of an ordinary person. Moreover, his breathing was long and subtle, the air from his nostrils barely perceptible. Through his keen perception of the breeze, Victor sensed that the pores all over Tournans’s body were also breathing. This was the exact manifestation of “Oneness with nature” as described in the Golden Toad Mystic Form.

Facing such a figure, Victor suppressed the urge to probe his Elemental Attributes to avoid any unnecessary misunderstanding. He was hoping Tournans could give Narsen some pointers to help him complete the Integration of the two Mystic Forms with the vibration secret art.

“I was just about to visit Viscount Negus. Priest Tournans, would you care to join us?” Victor asked with a smile.

Tournans’s eyes lit up, and he nodded repeatedly. “Good, good! What are you planning to discuss?”

“Merely a visit to a neighbor. What we’ll discuss specifically is not yet certain,” Victor said as they walked.

Tournans walked beside Victor, nodding to himself. “Mmm, it’s better for two lords to have a talk when they meet. I will bear witness for you.”

Victor smiled without a word. Who didn’t know of Tournans’s penchant?

At that moment, Viscount Negus came out to greet them, accompanied by a handsome, sharp-looking young man with black hair and black eyes.

“Negus pays his respects to Lord Tournans.”

“Soren pays his respects to Lord Tournans.”

Tournans was greatly pleased. He cleared his throat and said, “May our Lord guide your way.”

“Victor, I was just about to pay you a visit. Your arrival is truly an honor,” Viscount Negus said with a smile.

“Your Excellency Negus, you’re too kind.” Victor nodded, then turned to his kinsman. “Lord Soren, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Victor, the last time we met was at your wedding to Sophia. That was almost eight years ago,” Soren said, trying to be friendly.

“Eight years, eleven months, and seven days,” Victor stated flatly.

Soren was momentarily stunned, then he smiled and nodded. “Time truly flies. We should wait for Marquess Sophia as well.”

Several pairs of eyes turned east simultaneously. They saw Sophia, dressed in well-fitting hunting attire, her purple hair tied in a ponytail. She covered four meters in a single stride, her steps light and her posture graceful, arriving before them in an instant. Before she could speak, Tournans cut in, “May our Lord guide your way.”

“Uh… Lord Tournans, good day.” Sophia helplessly performed a Knight’s salute to the Sacred Warrior.

“Narsen greets his lady.” Narsen stepped forward to salute the matriarch of the family.

“Lord Narsen, there is no need for such ceremony.” Sophia nodded, then linked her arm with Victor’s, saying intimately, “Darling, how could I be absent when you’re visiting our neighbors on such an occasion?”

Looking into Sophia’s beautiful eyes, Victor’s lips twitched, unsure of what to say. Negus made an inviting gesture with his hand. “My lords, we’re rather conspicuous out here. Let’s go inside to talk.”

Two famous Ferocious Warriors, three peak Silver Knights, and a rare Wind Walk Archer, representing four major powers, were indeed a conspicuous gathering. Countless gazes were fixed on Victor and his group. Only after they disappeared behind the tent flap did the camping area return to calm, but in the shadows, many new speculations and calculations had already begun to form.

Chapter 344: Raven Town Resurrected

The furnishings inside the tent were rather simple, but the space was reasonably large, accommodating five guests without feeling crowded. After everyone was seated according to their roles as host and guests, Viscount Negus dismissed his attendant and said with a smile, “Victor, I’ve heard that the Swiftbirds of the Centaur Hills are defiant and difficult to tame, fierce in temperament, but also that their meat is tender and delicious. The pioneers of the Centaur Hills were hunting them wantonly years ago, so by the time I took office as lord, I couldn’t find a single Swiftbird in my fief. I never expected you to succeed in taming these giant birds of prey and even form a unit of Swiftbird light cavalry. If Your Excellency is willing to sell Swiftbird mounts to me, the price and conditions are all negotiable.”

This was by no means the first time Viscount Negus had seen the Swiftbird light cavalry. During his initial clash with Victor, he had personally shot down several Swiftbirds with his arrows. If Victor hadn’t intervened in time, that small squadron of Swiftbird light cavalry would have died under his fire. Both sides had kept this matter a secret; besides Victor and Negus, no third party knew of the tacit understanding they had reached.

Now that Swiftbirds were tamable birds of combat, their value had multiplied. But until the Swiftbird light cavalry reached a significant scale, Victor and Sylvia would not allow any outsiders to get their hands on them. Viscount Negus’s sudden, improper request likely had a deeper meaning.

Victor pondered for a moment before shaking his head. “This is not something I can decide on my own.”

Negus nodded, his gaze sweeping over Sophia and Soren as he said pointedly, “There are many things I cannot decide on my own either. In that case, let’s talk about matters we can decide.”

Everyone present had ties to Raven Town. The town’s territory of roughly one thousand square kilometers lacked any strategic depth, but being sandwiched between the fiefs of Negus and Soren, it could serve as a buffer. Soren and Negus belonged to different factions and were old rivals, so mutual vigilance was inevitable. To avoid unnecessary conflict, both sides wanted to plant informants in Raven Town to monitor each other’s movements.

Victor had leveraged this relationship to build Raven Town into a trade port, allowing Negus’s and Soren’s caravans free passage and thus getting a cut of the profits. Thanks to Raven Town, Negus and Soren could trade for what they needed without it being considered collusion. They gradually tasted the sweet fruits of commerce, and their caravans began to frequent Raven Town more often, leading to its growing prosperity. Victor had even been confident he could draw more lords into Raven Town’s trade circle. Unfortunately, the arrival of the barbarians had shattered the tripartite balance, causing the development plans for Raven Town to be aborted.

The barbarians were temporarily encamped in the mountains west of Raven Town, the Sacred Warriors were garrisoned in the town itself, and the Iron Wall Knights and Glory Knights were stationed in Viscount Negus’s and Viscount Soren’s fiefs respectively. Trade in Raven Town had ground to a halt.

However, Victor believed Raven Town could still be saved. The reason was simple: they all needed money.

Pioneer Lords needed to invest vast sums of capital in infrastructure, including clearing farmland and pastures, and constructing villages, roads, and castles. The larger the fief, the greater the investment and the longer the return period. Viscount Negus had poured several generations of his family’s savings into developing his fief, but it still wasn’t enough. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have made the secret deal with Victor to trade stone for raw sugar. Soren was even worse off. His parents’ savings were pitifully small, and his uncle’s legacy had been seized by Sophia. A dignified wind-element Great Knight, he had to rely on a stipend from the Royal Family to maintain a decent lifestyle, so how could he have any money to develop his fief? Soren’s economy was highly dependent on the August family. He had mortgaged the only medium-sized refined iron ore mine in his fief to Grand Duke Williams in exchange for a massive loan. He also invested half his stipend into his fief’s development, leaving his family’s living expenses stretched thin, to the point where they were worse off than an ordinary knight. When Raven Town opened up trade in raw sugar and mountain goods, Soren’s caravans made a profit every month just by reselling goods. He, of course, also hoped that trade in Raven Town could continue.

When everyone was in need, the trade in Raven Town had a foundation for its continued existence.

Need was one thing, but the bigger picture of the kingdom still had to be considered. Everyone understood this, but Sophia had nothing to do with it. Her sudden appearance made her a disrupter, forcing Viscount Negus to establish a framework for the conversation in advance to avoid mutual embarrassment.

No, that wasn’t right. There was someone else here pretending to understand when he didn’t—My lord Tournans.

Although a legendary Sacred Warrior held a high position in the Church, his actual power was small. Yet this particular one loved to meddle in the affairs of lords. Victor didn’t know how Tournans had gotten mixed up with Narsen, but he was happy to foster a good relationship with him. If the bald-headed Sacred Warrior revealed even a little of the Church’s secret training arts, it would be a huge help to his mercenary army.

Victor turned his head to glance at the fully focused Tournans and said loudly, “In that case, let’s speak plainly in front of My lord Tournans. If we can’t even handle that, I see no reason for us to talk at all.”

Tournans was overjoyed. He nodded solemnly and, mimicking the Pope’s tone, said, “It is best for disputes between lords to be settled at the negotiating table. The Church will be responsible for mediating your conflicts.”

Dispute my ass! This is clearly a cooperation…

The three lords exchanged disgruntled glances. Soren was the first to speak, aiming his words directly at Sophia.

“I have no problem, but I would like to know in what capacity Lady Sophia is participating in this conversation? If it is as the Marchioness of Wimbledon, the trade in Raven Town has nothing to do with you. If it is as Viscountess Randell, His Excellency Randell is right here, so your participation seems unnecessary.”

Sophia smiled beautifully and countered without holding back, “I am both the Marchioness of Wimbledon and Viscountess Randell. Moreover, my guests are staying in Raven Town, and I am covering half the expenses for the barbarians and the Sacred Warriors. I can choose to buy your goods or not. Most importantly, I am very wealthy, which is why I can sit here. Soren, what do you have? And in what capacity are you sitting here?”

“I have roads, and I have the authority to waive transit tax on goods, or to raise it.”

Soren Wimbledon said sincerely, “Sophia, I actually have no personal grudge against you. Who inherits the title of Marquess of Wimbledon is not for me to decide, nor for you. The reason I lost to you is that His Highness, Grand Duke Williams, lost to Her Majesty the Queen. In my opinion, the fief is more important than the title of Marquess. However, I owe everything I have today to the trust of His Highness, Grand Duke Williams. I am loyal to His Highness. If he wants me to inherit the title, I will. If he tells me to give it up, I don’t care either. But as a lord, I hope that Raven Town can maintain its previous trade policy. Therefore, I’m very concerned that your interference will change the current situation.” Saying this, he nodded to Victor. “Your Excellency, Randell, what do you think?”

Victor nodded. “My lord Negus, do you also hope for Raven Town to continue its policy of open and free trade?”

“Of course,” Viscount Negus said with a smile. “Victor, according to our original agreement of trading stone for raw sugar, I have delivered all the stone for the construction of Raven Castle, but you still owe me two hundred thousand pounds of raw sugar.” After a pause, he added, “There is something I must clarify in advance. I can only sell my stone to Viscount Soren. If the York family wishes to purchase stone from me, I’m afraid I cannot help. Not unless His Majesty King Friedrich himself nods his approval.”

“Stone is not on the trade list, but green bricks are,” Victor said, turning to Soren. “Grand Duke Williams is building a fifty-meter-high fortress in Soren’s Viscounty. I’m afraid Your Excellency has incurred another massive debt.”

Soren smiled bitterly. “The initial budget is three hundred thousand Gold Sols.”

“It’s the same for me,” Viscount Negus said, shaking his head. “Victor, I don’t have the money to purchase green bricks.”

The construction plans of a fief were a lord’s internal affair; in principle, the King had no right to interfere. But these two first-generation lords, Soren and Negus, were highly dependent on the Royal Family for economic, political, and military support. When the King told them to concentrate their efforts on building defensive fortifications first, they had to tighten their belts and complete the task. The King was no philanthropist; the construction costs would ultimately be borne by the two lords.

With the King’s loan plus interest, it would take several generations to pay it all back. How could they not find ways to make money?

Victor smiled slightly, extremely thankful that he hadn’t taken on high-interest loans.

“I know you don’t have money, but the Glory Knights and the Iron Wall Knights do!” Victor said calmly. “Our barbarian guests won’t be leaving anytime soon. The knights and their retainers will have to stay here, perhaps for ten years, maybe fifteen. Their families and servants will eventually come over too. These noble knights can’t live in simple wooden huts, can they? You can first build a few stately villas and rent them to the wealthy knights. The others will surely approach you to rent housing as well. You can collect five years’ rent from them all at once, which will be enough money to build their homes. Once the knights have houses, they will need to buy furniture and daily necessities, right? So, build some shops and do some business. This way, without spending a single copper coin, you’ll have a beautiful little town. After five years, the rent will be pure profit.”

Soren and Negus were greatly tempted, but Sophia watched Victor with a faint, knowing smile. This woman had thought of this long ago. Victor paid her no mind and continued, “The Randell Fief is too far from here; it’s not cost-effective to transport green bricks. However, I currently control the green brick business in the Centaur Hills. I can have the nearby Viscount Harnas produce the bricks and sell them to you at cost. But then I wouldn’t earn a single Copper Sol.”

Viscount Negus asked thoughtfully, “Your Excellency, Randell, what are your conditions?”

“Very simple.”

Victor said, “As far as I know, Viscount Negus’s stone is shipped directly to Soren’s Viscounty. I now request that the convoys transporting the stone must pass through Raven Town. That shouldn’t be too difficult, should it?”

Soren frowned. “I don’t understand your intention, but I can dispatch my caravans to Raven Town to load and unload the stone. However, you must guarantee that you won’t use those stones.”

“I guarantee it,” Victor said with a nod. “In fact, apart from Raven Castle, no further fortifications will be built in Raven Town.”

“Wait!”

Tournans, his eyes wide, interjected, “Your Excellency, Randell, it seems you still haven’t made any money?”

“Victor indeed hasn’t made any money from this, but the residents of Raven Town have,” Sophia explained. “His Excellency Negus’s caravans transport stone to Soren’s Viscounty and bring back green bricks, with no need to go through Raven Town at all. Now, Soren’s caravans will bring green bricks to Raven Town and then transport His Excellency Negus’s stone back. Loading and unloading stone and green bricks requires hiring workers, the caravan crews need to buy food, and the stewards need to drink and make merry, perhaps picking up some goods along the way. Thus, the residents of Raven Town gain an income, and so Victor earns money.”

Sophia turned her lovely face, took Victor’s hand, and asked with a beaming smile, “My dear, is that right?”

Victor nodded and asked, “My dear lady, what do you want?”

“I’ve heard of your accomplishments in Wildwillow City. Sylvia told me you turned it into a prosperous commercial fief,” Sophia said with a smile. “Although I’ve never been to Wildwillow City, I have been to Raven Town. I can see that Raven Town has the potential to become a second Wildwillow City, or even to surpass it.”

“So long as I’m involved!”

Sophia’s eyes burned brightly as she said, “The Glory Knights and the Iron Wall Knights have money, but you two have no goods to sell them. I do. If you were to procure goods yourselves, you would have to pay transit taxes to other lords, whereas I do not. I have the monopoly on Purple Cane wine, and my caravans can bring all sorts of other goods: exquisite pottery, expensive silks, cheap grain, high-quality leather, rare medicinal herbs and spices… with these goods, you can not only satisfy the needs of the knights but also sell to other lords and earn a profit.”

“I have no objections.”

Soren nodded in agreement, but Viscount Negus remained silent. All eyes were on him. After a moment, he finally spoke, “My Lady Sophia, I would like to know what you plan to do next?”

“Have the Kingdom of Dodor protect the interests of the Wimbledon Merchant Association and let everything return to how it was!”

Negus shook his head with a bitter smile. “Do you think I can make that decision?”

“You can’t, but His Majesty King Friedrich can!”

Sophia said in a low voice, “Don’t tell me you want to resume trade with Raven Town without the King of Dodor’s hand behind it. His Majesty King Friedrich intends to use trade to build ties with the guests from Mount Arreat. While I cannot stop Raven Town from trading with you, I can ensure your scheme comes to nothing.”

Sophia wagged her slender, fair index finger and said, “I guarantee the barbarians will not meet a single person from Dodor. You can also try to trespass on the barbarians’ camp and see what happens.”

“Then we won’t meet them!”

Viscount Negus said calmly, “My Lady Sophia, why must you be so hostile toward our Kingdom of Dodor?”

“So it’s me who is hostile to the merchants of the Kingdom of Dodor, deliberately refusing to sell them my goods?” Sophia laughed in exasperation.

“Your caravans travel unhindered in the Kingdom of Dodor; the lords of Dodor do not charge you transit tax. Your caravans have not been harassed by bandits or thieves in the Kingdom of Dodor; the lords of Dodor have fulfilled their duty of protection. When your goods were not selling, the lords of Dodor were willing to purchase them with their own funds.”

Viscount Negus shook his head. “Sophia, it was you who found the Dodor lords’ offer too low and were unwilling to sell your goods. From beginning to end, the Kingdom of Dodor has never violated the trade agreement with the Wimbledon Merchant Association. This is an indisputable fact!”

Sophia was silent for a moment before asking, “What kind of terms did the Southwind Merchant Association offer to make you support them like this?”

“No comment.”

Negus then turned to Victor to explain, “My family has long since been removed from the kingdom’s center of power. I am merely a viscount lord now, not yet qualified to know the reasons behind this. However, I believe that if the Kingdom of Borea can persuade His Majesty King Friedrich and the great lords of Dodor, they can surely persuade the Sasan Empire as well.”

“Your Excellency, Randell, my apologies. I am powerless to help with your wife’s situation.”

Victor waved his hand and smiled. “This does not affect our cooperation.” Then he said to Sophia, “My dear, if you wish to participate in Raven Town’s trade, you are most welcome.”

“Why not?” Sophia raised a delicate eyebrow and said calmly, “I do not admit defeat easily, but I am not a petty person either.”

“Then let us ask My lord Tournans to witness our agreement.”

Tournans stood up, rubbing his large, bald head with a perplexed expression. He seemed to have understood, yet at the same time, he seemed to have understood nothing at all. Then he glanced at the equally clueless Narsen and instantly felt a weight lift from his heart.

Turns out there was someone else who didn’t get it.

Chapter 345: Seeing Sophia Again

Sophia stood before a mirror, trying on earrings and necklaces. Having chosen a set she was happy with, she turned her back to Victor and said softly, “My dear, help me with the clasp.”

Back in the House of Randell’s tent, Sophia changed her clothes and jewelry right in front of Victor. This gesture eased some of Victor’s frustrated feelings.

Victor had imagined many scenarios for his reunion with Sophia. A wealthy wife who had sold out her own husband, now fallen on hard times, had come running back to seek his help. He imagined she would be full of guilt, meekly begging for his forgiveness. Or perhaps she would maintain her pride with a haughty facade, secretly using her charms to make him pursue her all over again. Or maybe she would act as if nothing had happened, taking a roundabout approach by cozying up to his other women and subordinates to naturally seize the influence befitting the lady of the house. Sophia’s faction was stronger than the House of Randell, but personally and politically, she was in a position of weakness. She ought to be revolving around him.

Victor never expected that Sophia would completely ignore him, instead rolling up her sleeves and diving straight into the trade negotiations for Raven Town, using the opportunity to probe for the secret agreement between the Dodor Kingdom and the Southwind Merchant Association.

No one wanted the Church to completely monopolize the benefits of diplomacy with the barbarians. With the barbarians lingering in the Centaur Hills, every major power had the opportunity to make contact with them and learn about the situation on Mount Arreat. The best way to do this was to send spies or envoys to Raven Town. If Victor had ordered Raven Town sealed, it would have been much harder for spies to infiltrate, but it would have been impossible to completely eliminate them. The major powers would have simply sent more cunning and seasoned operatives. Given this, Victor had decided to open up Raven Town, a decision that immediately received an enthusiastic response from Negus and Soren. Just as Sophia had said, both Negus and Soren were acting under the Royal Family’s instructions.

The Church and the feudal lords were trying to weaken Sophia’s influence over the barbarians. The two royal families planned to bypass Sophia and use Raven Town’s free trade to get to know the barbarians. Soren and Negus, on the other hand, needed to resell Raven Town’s raw sugar and specialty products to turn a profit. Victor wanted to realize his development strategy for Raven Town and, in the process, export green bricks to the Dodor Kingdom. Sophia’s demand that the Dodor Kingdom protect the Wimbledon Merchant Association’s interests in exchange for supplying goods was merely a bargaining tactic. Her real objective was to find out what benefits the Southwind Merchant Association had given the Dodor Kingdom. Only by grasping the crux of the matter could she find a way to solve her problem.

It was foreseeable that Raven Town would become a hub for caravans. Whether they were real merchant caravans or fronts, Raven Town stood to line its pockets.

In fact, this meeting hadn’t been a spur-of-the-moment affair. Viscount Negus had invited Victor in advance, and Victor had agreed after thinking through the connections. When Victor entered the lord’s encampment area, Negus and Soren were already gathered, awaiting his visit. Only Sophia had joined at the last minute, which was why Soren had questioned her status in the negotiations. He was, in fact, trying to exclude her.

The small town of Raven Town had become a nexus for the games between the secular and the ecclesiastical, between lord and lord. Sophia’s entry made this meeting, where everyone had something to gain, all the more thrilling.

Sophia’s rise from a low-status Wild Knight to the rank of Marchioness was no accident. She was adept at seizing opportunities, possessed keen intuition and a strong drive, and had a sharp mind and a tenacious will.

As an ally, Sophia would be excellent. As an adversary, she would be formidable.

In short, this woman was difficult to handle.

Victor, who had always had his way with high-ranking female knights thanks to his Moon Elf bloodline, was being taught a harsh lesson by Sophia’s actions.

To hell with guilt, to hell with noble bloodlines, to hell with all that nonsense. My career is about to go down in flames, what mood do I have to humor you?

Sophia might not have thought it in those exact words, but that was how she was acting.

A high-ranking female knight was a knight first and a woman second. For an Extraordinary Knight, a happy marriage was optional; a conviction was indispensable.

Victor now seriously doubted if he could ever manage this ambitious female knight, but he had to admit, Sophia was an undeniably captivating woman.

After fastening the blue diamond necklace for Sophia, Victor asked coolly, “Are you participating in Raven Town’s trade just to probe the deal between the Boreans and Dodor?”

Sophia felt a faint sense of disappointment. In her memory, whenever Victor helped her with a clasp, he would always take the opportunity to take liberties with her, followed by a moment of tenderness before she could escape her little husband’s pestering. But this time, Victor’s fingers hadn’t touched her at all.

The intimacy they once shared was gone… No, it was only gone for now!

Sophia turned around, gazing at the handsome face that was both familiar and strange, and chuckled lightly. “The barbarians have occupied the mountains west of Raven Town, and the local residents have lost a source of income. They respect me as the lady of their house, and I must not only ensure their livelihood but also make their lives more prosperous. I’ve already instructed the barbarians to gather resources from the mountains and trade them in Raven Town for more Purple Cane wine and daily necessities. Since you plan to develop trade in Raven Town, I’ll ship some goods over to give you a helping hand, even though I deeply detest commercial territories like Wildwillow City.”

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple, is it?”

Victor said, “The barbarians have enormous appetites. I’ve heard a single hunting expedition of theirs can cover over a thousand kilometers. The deer, yellow goats, and wild boars of the Larkspur Mountains can’t compare to the large game on Mount Arreat, so you need to purchase cattle and sheep to meet the barbarians’ daily needs. Oh, and you also have to feed several hundred Horned Wolves. Although the cattle, sheep, and pigs raised in the Centaur Hills can meet your procurement needs, the transportation costs are too high, and the lords will hike up their prices on the spot. If the lords of Dodor can also supply food and daily necessities, your procurement costs would be much lower. And…” He paused, then said deliberately, “I hear you have a lot of backlogged goods. The trade in Raven Town could help you get rid of some of that inventory. You’re also eyeing the purses of the Ironwall Knights and the Glory Knights!”

Sophia looked at Victor in surprise, then nodded. “My dear, you’re so clever. Did Duke York teach you all this about business?”

“That’s not important!”

Victor shook his head. “You are a commercial noble; I am a feudal lord. Besides profit, I have to consider the safety of my subjects. The barbarians are fierce and warlike. They will always be a threat to the residents of Raven Town. I want to know, do you have a way to restrain them?”

Sophia was silent for a moment before shaking her head. “I have no way. That’s why the Church took over Raven Town’s defense.”

“The Church?” Victor sneered. “The clergy won’t turn on the barbarians over the lives of a few commoners.” His expression grew serious as he asked, “Sophia, have you considered this? The barbarians are well-fed and idle. Might some of them grow restless and wander off to hunt fierce beasts in more distant lands? If they have an accident, could it trigger a chain reaction among the other barbarians?”

Sophia’s expression changed. Victor continued, “There isn’t enough game in those mountains for the barbarians to hunt. You have to find a way to keep them contained nearby.”

“My dear, what do you suggest?” Sophia asked in a soft, quiet voice.

“My rangers discovered a large soft silver mine near Raven Town,” Victor said impassively. “Have the barbarians excavate the ore and trade it for Purple Cane wine.”

“What use is soft silver?” Sophia asked with a frown.

“Soft silver is worthless, of course, but it will give the barbarians something to do.” Victor said righteously, “For the safety of my subjects, I am willing to pay for peace. I’ll take all the ore and use it as common stone.”

Sophia’s eyes darted slyly as she chuckled. “I know the Centaur Hills are short on stone, but I never thought you’d set your sights on a soft silver mine. The ore isn’t uniform. Using it as filler for city walls would require cracking it with fire and then breaking it apart, which is incredibly expensive. I can cover the costs of procurement, transportation, and processing for you, as long as you give me the exclusive rights to the raw sugar.”

Victor retorted, “Why don’t you discuss the exclusive rights to raw sugar with Sylvia?”

“She told me to talk to you. As long as you agree, it’s settled.” Sophia said earnestly, “My dear, you know the situation I’m in. Please help me this once. I will reward you handsomely.”

“Once you have the exclusive rights to raw sugar and Purple Cane wine, the great lords of Dodor will have to reconsider your importance.” Victor nodded, a faint, knowing smile on his face. “My dear, what can you give me in return?”

“What do you want?” Sophia took a deep breath, her gaze burning.

“I want you.”

Sophia turned her head, avoiding Victor’s gaze, and said apologetically. “Victor, I’m sorry…”

“Why are you sorry? For selling me to Sylvia? Or because you can’t accept my terms?” Victor pressed on aggressively. “Even the most beautiful memories couldn’t keep you. Perhaps in your heart, the Baron Wimbledon of the past was just a tool to be discarded at any time, not the partner you acknowledged. It’s different now. I need you to stay by my side and take up your duties as Viscountess Randell. If I give you the rights to the raw sugar business, won’t that just be pushing you further away?”

“Victor, could you ask for something else?” Sophia said, her voice lacking confidence. “I haven’t given up on my own ambitions yet…”

“Fine! Renounce your title as Marchioness Wimbledon, take on a new identity, and dissolve our marriage. Let me marry another to be Viscountess Randell. Can you do that?!”

Victor softened his tone, speaking gently, “Sophia, you are not irreplaceable, but our marriage binds us together. If you want to keep your title and your caravan, you cannot join me in the Centaur Hills. But I want to protect what I’ve built, and the House of Randell needs a lady. This is our conflict.”

“Soren first questioned your status, then declared he had no personal grudge against you. Was he saying that for your benefit?”

Sophia let out a breath and said flatly, “I know he was saying it for your benefit. Victor, you’re not the man you once were…”

“No! He was explaining himself to both of us.” Victor seized Sophia’s slender hand, his voice full of passion. “Without a lady, the House of Randell is like a cripple with one leg; it can’t go far. As long as you cling to the title of Marchioness Wimbledon, you are Soren’s enemy. But if you return to the House of Randell, he will have to court your favor, because we will become a truly great noble house!”

Sophia pulled her hand out of Victor’s grasp and raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, but I still have loyal subordinates. I cannot let them down.”

Damn it! I can’t beat her in a fight… so she doesn’t have to listen to reason.

Victor finally understood what it meant for one’s words to carry no weight, and how hard it was for a husband to establish his authority. Just then, the sound of horns echoed from outside the tent. A beautiful woman in a long blue dress lifted the tent flap, curtsied, and said, “My Lord, Madam, the final round of the tournament is about to begin. We should be going.”

Victor’s eyes lit up. He stepped forward, wrapped an arm around the woman’s slender waist, and asked smugly, “Natalya, haven’t you always called Sophia ‘My Lady’? Why did you call her ‘Madam’ today?”

“Ah?!” Natalya’s pretty face flushed. She stole a glance at Sophia but couldn’t bring herself to push Victor away.

Natalya was Sophia’s Sworn Knight and also Victor’s woman—to be precise, she was the lover of the little Baron Wimbledon. Sophia needed Natalya by her side and had originally planned for her close friend to marry the little Baron and serve as his personal handmaiden, but Queen Catherine had not consented to a legal marriage between them.

Natalya had indeed been fond of the little Baron Wimbledon. However, after not seeing each other for so many years, her feelings had faded. Victor’s intimate gesture left her both surprised and delighted. It was like drinking mead—sweet and dizzying—and naturally, she couldn’t bear to refuse her lover’s embrace.

“Sophia, it seems your subordinate is ready to join the House of Randell,” Victor teased, then turned and walked out. “I’ll wait for you outside.”

Sophia glared at Natalya’s blissful, intoxicated expression and snapped, “Are you done swooning? Get over here and help me with my hair!”

Chapter 346: Focus and Pressure

When Victor arrived at the viewing stands, the area around the venue was already a sea of people. A master of ceremonies, in a peculiar tone, loudly chanted the names of Viscount Randell and his wife, announcing their arrival.

With Sophia on his arm, Victor ascended to the House of Randell’s viewing box under the guidance of an attendant. Along the way, nobles rose to their feet to greet the Viscount and his wife. Victor and Sophia, with impeccable, elegant smiles on their faces, nodded in response.

In public, Sophia behaved like a gentle and beautiful Viscountess. Victor knew she had not actually given up on her ambitions for the merchant association and the title, but she also had to leave an escape route for herself and her subordinates.

This was a good thing. If Sophia lost her fighting spirit, it would go against Victor’s expectations.

Narsen led the family attendants forward to greet them, performing a one-knee kneel. “My lord, My Lady, good day.”

Sophia smiled and nodded, replying magnanimously, “Lord Narsen, there is no need for such ceremony.”

Victor pulled Natalya to his side, took her hand, and said to Narsen, “Let me introduce you. This is Sophia’s guardian knight, Natalya… My Lady.”

Guardian knights swore to follow their master for life, serving as their shield and sword. They could not establish their own families but had the right to refuse a marriage arranged by their master. A master would typically wed an illegitimate daughter of the family to a male guardian knight, while female guardian knights often served as a personal handmaiden to the family’s male head. This was mainly to ensure the prosperity of the family’s main bloodline. One of Viscount Fredrick’s personal handmaidens was, in fact, Audel’s female guardian knight.

Sophia had originally arranged for Natalya to be the little Baron’s personal handmaiden, but this was rejected by the Queen. It was because of this incident that Sophia became convinced that Catherine wanted to manipulate Victor and, through him, control the Wimbledon Merchant Association. Due to this misunderstanding, Natalya lost her chance to become Victor’s legal partner and could only serve the master of the house as his lover.

In Victor’s plan, the knights of the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild were all to be sent out to take over the Stag Merchants’ Guild, while Sophia would remain in the Randell Fief. As Sophia’s guardian knight, Natalya would naturally stay as well. Moreover, she had never forgotten her feelings for Victor and had repeatedly persuaded Sophia to reconcile with him.

Female knights were all beautiful and captivating, and Natalya was no exception. Although Victor himself did not have deep feelings for her, he was not against the idea. Most importantly, capturing Natalya’s heart would not only influence Sophia but also weaken her control over the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild.

It was unlikely that Natalya would betray Sophia, but Victor was confident he could get her to use the House of Randell’s couriers, and the couriers were the key to controlling the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild. Only when the core members of the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild secretly sided with the House of Randell could Victor truly establish a liege-vassal relationship with Sophia.

Such was family politics. Familial relationships were forever entangled with political interests, making it difficult to separate one from the other or to distinguish right from wrong. Victor would at least ensure that Natalya was not wronged. As long as he did that, it didn’t matter whether he was using her or not.

Although Victor could not give Natalya a formal title, he had to give her the treatment she deserved, which included introducing her to the core members of his family. But Narsen, that country bumpkin, clearly didn’t know what sort of greeting was appropriate. He stood there, at a total loss, looking at his liege lord.

“Just like when you see Elina!” Victor had to prompt his trusted commander.

At this, Natalya was overjoyed. She shot Victor a bashful, happy glance, then lifted the hem of her skirt and took the initiative to curtsy. “Natalya greets Lord Narsen.”

Narsen hurriedly returned the bow with great formality. “A pleasure to meet you, Lady Natalya. May your youth and beauty be everlasting.”

“Everyone, be seated,” Victor said with a smile, pulling Sophia down to sit.

Narsen sat down to Victor’s left and leaned in to whisper, “My lord, I’ve discovered Tournans isn’t actually a priest!”

Sophia and Natalya exchanged an amused glance, while Victor replied irritably, “You’re just figuring that out now?”

“Yes.” Narsen nodded emphatically, then chuckled. “My lord, when you were speaking with Viscount Negus, I knew Tournans’s identity was no small matter. Later, I heard Bishop Pello address Tournans as ‘Your Grace, the Bishop.’ So, he’s not a priest… he’s an Archbishop from the Holy See!”

“…”

Victor was stunned for a long moment before he mused, “You’re not wrong to call him a Bishop… Tournans is also the strongest Ferocious Warrior of our time. His martial skills have reached the pinnacle; even without divine arts, most Gold Knights are no match for him.”

“What?!” Narsen shot to his feet, exclaiming excitedly, “A Ferocious Warrior can actually reach the level of a Gold Knight?! My lord, can I ask Bishop Tournans for some guidance on the secret…”

His voice died abruptly, and Narsen hung his head in embarrassment. Sophia, however, had no intention of letting him off the hook. Her beautiful eyes glinted as she asked with great interest, “Lord Narsen, the secret what?”

Narsen scratched the back of his head and gave a couple of dry laughs, but said nothing more. Victor came to his rescue. “My dear, I’ve forbidden Narsen from discussing the Mystic Form in public.”

“Mystic Form?”

“Yes.” Victor nodded and said frankly, “You are the lady of the House of Randell. Naturally, I wouldn’t hide it from you.” As he spoke, Victor saw Tournans waving at them from the other side of the semi-circular viewing stands. He turned to Narsen and instructed, “Lord Tournans is beckoning you. Go on over. The matter of the Mystic Form is an open secret by now. If he asks, you can ask him for guidance. However, you need my permission before you can tell him about the original Mystic Form.”

“As you command, my lord!” Narsen bowed and strode toward the viewing stands where Tournans was seated.

Victor continued his explanation to Sophia, “Narsen was originally the commander of a mercenary company. The Mystic Form is a body-strengthening method he invented. After he became a vassal of the House of Randell, his life stabilized, which gave him the time to cultivate the Mystic Form. As a result, his strength advanced by leaps and bounds, and he became a Silver-rank Ferocious Warrior.”

“Seeing how effective the Mystic Form training was, I wanted to use it as a secret art for training the family’s soldiers. Unfortunately, the method Narsen designed is only suitable for Ferocious Warriors. If ordinary people practice it, they will get injured, in severe cases even suffering internal bleeding. Moreover, practicing the Mystic Form requires a great deal of time and abundant food. So, Narsen and I modified it so that ordinary soldiers could practice it, but the effects were greatly diminished.”

“If Tournans can help Narsen improve the Mystic Form, that would be for the best.”

Sophia nodded lightly, offering no comment. As a High-ranked Knight, she had no interest in martial arts or secret techniques. She had only squeezed Narsen for information to prove that Victor was keeping things from her, which would lessen her own feelings of guilt.

Seeing Victor again after several years, her little husband’s aggressive passion had left her somewhat flustered.

“Victor, few Ferocious Warriors ever reach the Silver-rank. Sophia and I have both heard of Lord Narsen’s fame. However, Ferocious Warriors don’t seem to be the sharpest tools in the shed. No wonder Lord Tournans enjoys Lord Narsen’s company.” Natalya chuckled behind her hand, using her old form of address for Victor.

Hm? Has the jostling for favor already begun?

Knights were proud, and Natalya was no exception. Although her strength was far inferior to Narsen’s, she possessed a naturally noble bloodline. Natalya wanted to put Narsen and his sister in their place, which was partly a nobleman’s instinct, but it was also for Sophia’s sake, for the knights of the Sabertooth Tiger, and for herself.

Victor was somewhat displeased; he saw through Natalya’s little scheme as clear as day. Of course, vying for favor was a good thing; it showed that Sophia and her knights were beginning to think of themselves as part of the House of Randell. However, Victor felt it was necessary to make them understand just who decided the power structure in the House of Randell.

“Tournans is highly regarded by Sylvia and is one of the top powerhouses of our time. How could he possibly be stupid? On the contrary, I believe he is not only exceptionally talented but also supremely intelligent. I once tried to trade the Mystic Form for the Church’s secret martial arts, but the Sacred Warriors in the Randell Fief had already mastered the training method for the Mystic Form, so the Church did not agree to the exchange. What Narsen practices is the original Mystic Form, which is very different from the semi-public training method. Do you think Tournans befriends Narsen just because he gets a sense of superiority from him?”

Natalya’s delicate brows rose in surprise. “Are you saying that Tournans is secretly deducing Lord Narsen’s Mystic Form?”

“I can’t think of any other reason,” Victor said with a shrug. “The Church’s secret martial arts are never shared or exchanged. Tournans can discern the differences in the Mystic Form just from Narsen’s movements, all without a hint of expression, pondering it in secret. That level of shrewdness is enough to prove he is no dullard. My guess is that Tournans’s penchant for playing the priest is due to his family’s influence. A High-ranked Paladin’s duty is to study martial arts, and no one does that better than him!”

“Narsen is the same. He may not seem smart on the surface, but he is actually very wise. He only does what he is good at and leaves what he’s not to those who are. A man with self-awareness is by no means a fool, and knowing how to utilize people’s talents requires vision and wisdom. The War Bear Mercenary Company is what it is today entirely thanks to Narsen. He led from the front and adhered to the principle of never abandoning a comrade, thereby establishing his prestige. He offered his loyalty to his liege lord and follows my every word, thus earning my trust. What lord wouldn’t like a subordinate who is both prestigious and loyal?”

“Natalya, do you think Lord Narsen lacks political wisdom?” Victor asked coolly, staring into her eyes.

For some reason, a flare of anger shot through Sophia, and she couldn’t help but sneer, “Are you mocking me for not understanding politics! Hah, loyalty? Who should I be loyal to? Catherine or you? What right do you have to talk to me about loyalty? To this day, you are the only man I’ve ever had. You tell me, how many women have you had?”

“My Lady, you’re losing your composure.”

Victor lifted his chin and looked askance at Sophia, his superior expression seeming to say, You truly have no political wisdom. Unfortunately, combined with his handsome face, he looked more like a young boy who had just won a bet, completely devoid of any intimidating presence. At least, that’s what Sophia and Natalya thought. This little man had been pampered and slept with by them. No matter how lofty his current status or how eminent his power, he couldn’t put any pressure on them. Instead, they didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Suddenly, Sophia found it impossible to stay angry with Victor. She turned her face away, ignoring him.

Hmph! I have to put you in your place first. Only then will you understand that I am no longer the little Baron of the past.

No matter how outstanding X-3’s calculations were, it could not see into the human heart. If Victor knew Sophia’s current state of mind, he would have been utterly frustrated.

Victor remained impassive on the surface, but inwardly he was smug. He turned his gaze to the venue and began to survey his surroundings.

There were over a thousand people in the nobles’ viewing stands. The most conspicuous was undoubtedly the barbarian elder, Harald. Even seated, he was taller than the attendants behind him. The legendary Berserker seemed to sense Victor’s gaze, and his pair of cold eyes turned over, nodding toward Sophia.

Sophia made a fist with her right hand and tapped her forehead in response, then shot Victor a sideways glance. Her chin lifted slightly, and her red lips curved into a charming arc.

This is a powerhouse that even Sylvia isn’t confident of defeating… As long as he stands behind Sophia, the major powers won’t dare to easily cut off the Wimbledon Merchant Association’s trade, resorting only to a few underhanded tactics. No wonder Sylvia wants to win Sophia over. With Harald around, the major powers wouldn’t dare force the York family to hand over the rock bricks either, and can only use softer strategies to achieve their goals.

The middle-aged man next to the barbarian must be Pope Clement. You can’t tell at all that he’s over seventy years old. It’s said that he’s not only a legendary priest but also a knight who advanced using a Vigor Potion. Hmm, a Knight can become a priest, but a Paladin can only come from the seven great families.

Enbise and Grand Duke Williams look so chummy… Why are you two only discussing nonsense about food? Catherine looks truly beautiful in her Duchess’s ceremonial robes. However, she has already fulfilled her duty of bearing the family heir. Enbise, whether you can hold on to this High-ranked Knight of a wife is a big question mark… Then again, with Sylvia retired to the background, this stingy fatty is now in power. He won’t be short of women.

That lady with the short blue hair must be Baroness Angie Decrian of Bronze-Halberd City. She’s the legitimate daughter of the Moon Bear family, possesses the royal bloodline, and holds the title of Princess. The lord next to Princess Anqi is most likely her maternal grandfather, the Gold Knight Duke Monstock… This Highness belongs to the western faction of the Sasan Empire, loyal to the Baselius family. That means Princess Anqi’s influence in the Sasan Empire is quite significant.

Why is Princess Fenna of the Elayanuo family so intimate with Marquess Faroul of Naville? Right, Princess Fenna has a Gold Knight lover in Naville. Could it be Marquess Faroul?

Judy is as gentle and beautiful as ever. She can’t see me… It’s alright, we’ll see each other at the banquet tonight.

Why don’t I see His Highness Roland? Oh, she’s sitting with Anna… wait, that’s the viewing stand for unmarried ladies to receive flowers from the champion! Your Highness, you may be unmarried, but by sitting there, you’ve made all the young ladies of the York family look like mere foils. Is that really a good look? Haven’t you noticed that apart from that little girl Anna, everyone else is keeping their distance from you?

Gillian, my darling, has seen me… Hmm? Who is that man?!

Victor identified everyone in the viewing stands with a single glance. When his eyes met Gillian’s, the Young Lady shot him a provocative look, then began whispering to a handsome man beside her.

The voices of the more than seven thousand nobles and commoners in the venue intertwined, creating a disorderly and chaotic din that even a Gold Knight would struggle to make sense of. But if Victor wanted to listen, he could distinguish any single voice.

Gillian and the man appeared to be intimate, but they were only talking about the weather… She was jealous, deliberately trying to provoke Victor. This was very much in line with the temperament of the Young Lady of House Chapman.

Due to the mutual repulsion between Silver Knights, the partners of heirs from great families needed to be cultivated from childhood. Gillian did not have a childhood sweetheart to marry, so her spouse could only be chosen from among ordinary knights, apprentice knights, or nobles with an elven bloodline.

Ever since Victor learned that his Overlimit could cause misunderstandings, he had stopped casually probing the Elemental Attributes of knights. But at this moment, he couldn’t care less. All he wanted was to see if that man was Gillian’s marriage candidate.

Too far away! He couldn’t detect it!

Victor shook his head and exited his Overlimit state. However, to a Gold Knight who could perceive changes in the elements, the slight disturbance of the fire element was as conspicuous as a candle flame in the dark. Three pairs of eyes snapped toward him. Roland was the first to stand up, waving her small, snow-white hand vigorously at Victor, her joyful excitement like that of a sister seeing her long-lost brother. Duke Monstock also rose, taking the initiative to greet the successor of Sword Saint Draven. With two highnesses on their feet, Marquess Faroul of Naville naturally couldn’t remain seated. He stood up from his seat and nodded a greeting to Victor. Tournans rubbed his bald head, feeling that a Bishop should not miss such an occasion. He discreetly exchanged a glance with the Pope, then rose with solemn dignity, made the triangle sign of the Radiant Holy Mountain over his chest, and waited for Victor’s return salute.

In the viewing stands filled with a thousand nobles, aside from the Pope and the barbarian elder, the three Gold Knights and the legendary Paladin were undoubtedly the secret focus of everyone’s attention. In that instant, Victor became the focus of the entire venue.

Countless pairs of eyes turned toward him. Victor braced himself, rose from his seat, and with an elegant and respectful posture, greeted each of the high-ranking figures one by one. He then looked directly at the man beside Gillian. The handsome knight offered a wry smile and bowed his head in a gesture of concession. Gillian, with a demure expression, lowered her gaze like a gentle maiden, yet her lips bloomed into a satisfied smile. Judy’s eyes overflowed with adoration and worship. Natalya stared at Victor in a daze, a strange and brilliant light flickering in her beautiful eyes.

Sophia finally felt the pressure that Victor projected.

But why did she also feel a sense of pride and anticipation?

A long horn blast echoed across the viewing stands. Two knights on tall warhorses trotted onto the tournament grounds, and the highly anticipated final match of the tournament officially began.

Chapter 347: The Wager (Part 1)

The championship final of the tournament was set for dusk. Before competing for the title, the two finalists were required to ride their tall steeds in a lap around the entire field. This allowed their warhorses to acclimate to the venue and also gave them a chance to display their style to the audience and their opponent, earning cheers from their supporters.

One of them, a dashing young knight, was particularly popular with the crowd. He was about eighteen years old, riding a snow-white Andalusian steed. An Adamantine kite shield, inscribed with a red bull sigil, hung on the left side of his saddle. He wore chainmail of refined iron that shone with a blue light, and his handsome face wore a confident, flamboyant smile. In the light of the setting sun, a lock of his lazy, curly hair seemed like molten gold.

This handsome young knight was like a prince from a ballad. Whenever he raised his eagle-winged helmet to salute the crowd, he would invariably draw waves of praise. The more passionate and bold young ladies would even toss the flowers from their hands toward him to express their admiration.

In contrast, the young knight’s opponent did not receive such a warm welcome. He was a knight in his prime, in his early thirties. His short, bristling gray hair stood on end, and his weather-beaten, bronze face bore the marks of wind and sun. His tightly pressed lips and light brown eyes sketched out a resolute expression, much like the red copper armor he wore. The armor was of an old style, polished to a bright sheen. It bore no noble sigil, but its myriad scratches exuded a grim air of lethality. His mount was a common bay horse, strong but unremarkable. It made no showy gait, simply carrying its master forward at a slow and steady pace, appearing calm and stable.

“Vic… My lord, who do you think will win?” Natalya leaned intimately against Victor’s left shoulder, yet her words were formal.

“My dear, I don’t even know who they are,” Victor replied with a smile. The previous scene was not what he wanted, but it had indeed intimidated Natalya.

“The young contestant is Jorne Hanisi, from the Kingdom of Naville. He advanced to Knighthood at seventeen and is only eighteen this year,” Natalya explained in a soft, low voice.

“What?” Victor asked in surprise. “Are you sure Jorne is only eighteen?”

Natalya nodded, her voice full of envy. “Yes, Jorne’s talent is astonishing.”

Victor was suddenly stunned. An ordinary Knight’s aging process was slower than a commoner’s, so one couldn’t judge a knight’s true age by their appearance. Victor had initially thought Jorne was around twenty-five, but he never imagined he was only eighteen, and had advanced to a Knight at seventeen.

An apprentice knight would never use a Vigor Potion before the age of thirty, so a seventeen-year-old knight must have advanced naturally. This meant that Jorne’s knight’s bloodline was exceptionally pure. Barring any accidents, he would only need to polish his Aura step-by-step to become an Extraordinary Knight.

The York family has struck gold!

Then, a doubt arose in Victor’s mind. He frowned and asked, “Jorne’s potential is extraordinary. Why didn’t a great lord from the Kingdom of Naville recruit him?”

Natalya smiled and explained, “The Hanisi family’s history can be traced back to before the Iron Mountain Empire, but they have declined now, much like the Wimbledon family. The descendants kept the family name, but the family itself fell apart. The Hanisi family in Naville is just a barony. Jorne is Baron Hanisi’s nephew and was fostered in the barony since childhood. After the old Baron Hanisi died, the childless Baroness drove Jorne out of the fief so her own nephew could inherit the title.”

“Jorne hadn’t yet advanced to a Knight at the time. His appeal to the family’s suzerain was fruitless. The resident priest of the barony wrote him a letter of recommendation, telling him to come to Centaur Hills to try his luck.”

A thought struck Victor, and he asked, “What is the relationship between the Baroness and the Hanisi family’s suzerain?”

“The Baroness was the old Baron’s second wife, and she came from the suzerain’s family. The barony has, in fact, fallen into the hands of the suzerain’s family.” Natalya gave a disdainful smile and added, “Jorne has already spread the story. It’s said that Marquess Faroul, upon seeing his performance, secretly sent a Guardian Knight to recruit Jorne, but was refused.”

What a classic melodrama over a fief…

The old Baron, senile and incompetent, allows the heir of a noble bloodline to be driven out by his scheming wife. The heir endures hardship, biding his time, and finally makes a name for himself at a world-renowned tournament. After achieving success and fame, he denounces the despicable schemes of his suzerain’s family and proudly refuses the invitation of the Protector of the Kingdom. The humiliated and enraged Gold Knight then unleashes his fury upon his family’s enemies…

This was indeed a melodrama, but it wasn’t reality.

Potential did not equal strength. Jorne was currently just an ordinary Knight. Even if he reached the pinnacle of his power in the future, the Royal Family of Naville wouldn’t punish one of their own lords for the sake of another family’s Gold Knight. Besides, even if Jorne accepted Marquess Faroul’s offer, he couldn’t expect the Protector of the Kingdom to help him reclaim his family’s fief. His Highness Marquess Faroul needed Jorne to pledge loyalty to the Royal Family, not go back to being a minor lord. In this respect, Marquess Faroul even had the Baroness to thank for driving Jorne from his home.

In the end, the world of lords was one where the strong preyed on the weak. If you lose, you must accept it!

It was common for fiefs to be acquired through marriage, which was why heirs to lordships were reluctant to marry noblewomen from powerful families. By the same token, Earl Chepman would never want to form a marriage alliance with the Royal Family unless they could become the leader of the southern lords’ faction and possess the strength to protect their family’s interests.

Although the port was important, to the Chepman family, it represented trouble, and a marriage alliance with the Royal Family represented danger.

Thinking of this, Victor glanced across and noticed that Gillian was indeed no longer interacting with that knight in any way.

“How shameless,” Victor muttered, stroking his smooth chin. It was a double entendre. “To snatch the fief is one thing, but to not even give him a set of armor…” He shook his head and asked, “What about the other contestant?”

“James, a registered Ranger, advanced to Knighthood naturally at twenty-eight. He is now thirty-six. This is his first time participating in the Tournament. He won all forty-six of his challenge matches, after which no one challenged him again until the championship final,” Natalya replied.

Common adventurers were called mercenaries, while noble adventurers were called Rangers. Their essence was the same: they were freemen hired for money, making a living by their martial prowess. The difference was that mercenaries frequented taverns opened by lords, while Rangers registered with the Church and received missions from them. When a fief was in danger and needed military support, the resident priest could request the help of Rangers through the Church’s communication network. In return, the lord provided a bounty to the Ranger, and the Church would spread their fame.

Rangers were praised by the common folk and were the protagonists of poems and songs. They appeared glamorous on the surface, but the hardships they endured were unknown to outsiders. Aside from renowned knight-adventurers, most Rangers were illegitimate children without a family name. They would save up enough money to buy a cleansing potion or a Vigor Potion from the Church, and after advancing to Knighthood, the Church would recommend them to join a noble family.

Victor said, quite surprised, “An illegitimate child can actually advance to a Knight?”

“Is that so strange?”

Sophia said coolly, “My parents were both ordinary nobles, but didn’t I step into the Silver realm as well?”

Victor turned to look at Sophia and smiled. “My dear, the eyes of Princess Fennie and Princess Celine of the Kingdom of Sus are also purple. You must possess the bloodline of the Elayanuo family, right? The mothers of illegitimate children are all commoners. How can they compare to you?”

Sophia gave Victor a seductive sidelong glance and chuckled, “My dear, are you trying to say Phoenix can’t compare to me?”

Of course she can’t. You’re no match for her…

That was what Victor thought, but he wasn’t foolish enough to praise another woman in front of these two. He simply smiled and said nothing.

Sophia said calmly, “I have heard of Phoenix’s deeds. Any knight who has undergone the Trial of Life and Death and survived deserves respect, myself included. Regardless of the nobility of one’s bloodline, any noble can potentially become a knight. The difference is that those with a high-purity bloodline awaken their Aura easily, while it is more difficult for those with a lesser bloodline. The Trial of Life and Death is undoubtedly a shortcut to becoming a knight. At the moment between life and death, I felt my bloodline connect to the Elemental Sea, and the power of the Elemental Sea resonated with all my Elemental Nodes. In that instant, I was a peak Silver Knight, slaying the sabertooth tiger in a single blow. Afterward, I firmly remembered the resonant frequency of my Elemental Nodes and soon stepped into the Silver realm. My knight’s bloodline was purified, revealing the characteristics of the Elayanuo family.”

Victor nodded and said, “I see… James has been through the Trial of Life and Death, so doesn’t that mean he can become a Silver Knight?”

“Of course. A knight who passes the Trial of Life and Death is certain to be able to step into the extraordinary realm. But the Trial of Life and Death is nearly a death sentence; at most, only five or six out of a hundred who attempt it will survive.” Sophia shook her head. “James advanced to a Knight at twenty-eight and is now thirty-six. If he had undergone the Trial of Life and Death, he should have become a Silver Knight in eight years, but he has not. This means he is not one of the lucky few who survived the Trial.”

“Besides the stimulus of being between life and death, intense desire and unwavering belief can also awaken the power within the bloodline. It is the yearning of a noble to become a knight—a constant, tireless pursuit. I walked through thorns, hoping to awaken my Aura and heal my disability, and in the end, I succeeded. The children of great families undergo the strictest martial training from a young age, also to temper their will and establish the conviction to become a knight. Those with an ordinary bloodline who indulge in pleasure can never become a knight, no matter what.”

“James should fall into this category.” Sophia faced the arena, lifting her delicate chin. “A Ranger who is an illegitimate child could only have obtained his armor and warhorse through hard struggle. One look at the scratches on his armor tells you James is a veteran of a hundred battles. Although his bloodline is not as noble as Jorne’s, a tournament is not a contest of bloodlines. Jorne has no chance. James is certain to win!”

Victor looked at Sophia’s radiant face and asked, “You admire him very much?”

“I wouldn’t say admire.” Sophia shook her head and broke into a smile. “My experiences are similar to his. I can understand his thinking. He will not give up the chance to win the championship. No matter who his opponent is, he will give it his all.”

You’re just reinforcing your own obsessions, Victor complained internally. He pondered for a moment and said, “Valiant and diligent progress is certainly admirable…” He paused, then asked, “Has James injured anyone in the tournament?”

“No,” Natalya answered. “James has won every match with ease, which just goes to show how superior his strength is. Jorne, on the other hand, has injured three knights.”

Victor nodded, a confident plan forming in his mind. “The same thing can be interpreted in different ways by different people. I, for one, believe James will lose to Jorne.”

“My dear, why don’t we make a bet? The winner can ask the loser to do one thing within their power. What do you think?” Victor seized the opportunity to take Sophia’s slender hand. Her small hand was soft as if boneless, its cool, delicate texture like that of a fine jade carving. Victor couldn’t help but caress it.

Sophia’s eyes lit up. She let her husband play with her hand, bit her red lip gently, and asked with captivating charm, “What do you want me to do for you?”

“I haven’t thought of it yet,” Victor said, shaking his head. “What do you want me to do?”

“I haven’t thought of it either.” Sophia gave a beautiful smile, tightened her grip to intertwine their fingers, and leaned close to his ear, her breath as fragrant as an orchid. “No backing out if you lose!”

“Of course, I always keep my word!”

Victor nodded solemnly, feeling secretly pleased… If I win, I’ll leave you with an impression of wisdom, which will make things easier later. If I lose, all you’ll ask for is a solution to the Merchant association’s predicament. I can then ‘rightfully’ offer my opinions, which plays right into my hands. Heh, who can truly say what is a win and what is a loss.

They looked at each other and smiled, their fingers tightly clasped as they watched the match.

On the field, the two knights dismounted, raised their wooden lances, and saluted Pope Clement and Duke York from afar.

Pope Clement rose and said, “This is a fair contest. I hope you will uphold the knightly virtue of mercy and not aim to harm your opponent, but to win a glorious victory. The Supreme Lord is with you.”

Knightly tournaments were a very dangerous “sport” where violent injuries and deaths frequently occurred. The Church and the lords required contestants to use weapons made of hardwood, so-called “weapons of courtesy.” But even a wooden stick could unleash astonishing power in the hands of a knight, so the rules further stipulated that knights could only engage in jousting: a spectacular and thrilling one-on-one duel. During the match, the goal was for each rider to use their lance to unhorse their opponent with a single blow to determine the victor, but they could not harm their opponent’s horse, or they would lose.

However, ordinary noble children needed to display their martial skill and bravery, so their matches often devolved into on-foot sword duels, which increased the danger. This was especially true when contestants faced an old foe, as the match would often turn into a fight to the death.

By this point in the Centaur Hills Tournament, nine unlucky souls had already lost their lives, twenty-three had been crippled, and the number of injured was countless. If not for the Pope’s personal presence, the number of casualties would have been double. It could be said that this tournament field, the size of a soccer pitch, was already stained with the blood of its contestants.

But if a knight lacked even the courage to face danger, on what grounds could they enjoy the tribute of their people?

The York family offered a generous prize for the champion: a suit of Adamantine armor, an Adamantine longsword, a fine steed, three thousand Gold Sol, and if the winner was willing to join the York family, they would immediately be granted the title of lordship and receive a fief of two hundred square kilometers, including a manor and a village.

For a title and a fief, no contestant would possibly hold back.

Jorne twirled his “weapon of courtesy” in a beautiful flourish and said with a loud laugh, “James, I will use this to pluck you from your horse’s back…” He glanced at his opponent’s armor and added confidently, “And then, win the champion’s armor!”

“I prefer to let my lance do the talking.” The Ranger James donned his lion-headed helm and spurred his horse. The steed shot out like an arrow. With a long neigh, it reared up and turned to face Jorne from a distance.

“Marvelous horsemanship!”

Duke York stood up from his seat and said with a hearty laugh, “I wager one thousand Gold Sol that Jorne wins, and I will also wager one thousand Gold Sol that James wins.”

A loud-voiced attendant shouted out Duke York’s wager with all his might, and a Scribe wrote the bet on a massive wooden board in red paint.

An elegant smile appeared on Grand Duke Williams’s face as he announced, “I also favor Jorne. I wager five thousand Gold Sol.”

His words caused an uproar in the crowd.

Chapter 348: The Wager (Part 2)

“For a lord to place a public bet at the Tournament is both a form of entertainment and a show of support for the contestants,” a voice explained. “Regardless of whether they win or lose, the competitors receive forty percent of the winnings from their supporters’ bets. This money serves as their start-up capital for managing their fiefs. The winning bettors then divide the remaining prize money according to the proportion of their wagers. If a lord wishes to recruit a particular contestant, they might consider placing a larger bet as a sign of their sincerity.”

Duke York betting on both contestants to win was a clear declaration that the York family intended to take both men under its wing. The York family’s vassal lords were free to place their own bets.

According to custom, a guest’s wager should not exceed the host’s, otherwise it would be seen as an attempt to steal away their prospect. Although Grand Duke Williams represented the Gambis Royal Family, he could not overstep his bounds and upstage his host.

The foreign envoys broke into a flurry of discussion, while the representatives of the Gambis lords remained silent, their eyes flickering. The nobles of the Centaur Hills glared daggers at the Grand Duke.

“Is he forcing everyone to pick a side? If Sylvia were here, Williams would never dare do such a thing,” Sophia remarked with great interest. “What will Katerina do? To raise the stakes on both contestants would damage the York family’s dignity.”

On the grandstand, Katerina, dressed in the ceremonial robes of a Duchess, rose to her feet. “Since Grand Duke Williams has such high hopes for Jorne,” she said in a clear, crisp voice, “wouldn’t it be terribly dull if no one bet against Your Highness? I will place five thousand Gold Sol on James to win!”

Victor glanced thoughtfully at Princess Roland in the audience. After a moment of contemplation, he whispered to Sophia, “My dear, please, in your capacity as Marchioness Wimbledon, bet on James to win. Wager ten thousand Gold Sol.”

“Don’t even think about forcing me to pick a side.” Sophia shot Victor a displeased glare and pulled her hand from his.

“I’m betting on Jorne to win. If you don’t dare to bet on James, does that mean you concede?” Victor said with a smile. “According to our agreement, if you lose, you have to do one thing for me. I am now demanding that you bet ten thousand Gold Sol on James to win. If you don’t concede defeat, then you must bet on James. If you neither concede nor place a bet, people will only see you as Viscountess Randell, and not Marchioness Wimbledon.”

Sophia stared at Victor, stunned, then let out a chuckle and shook her head. “You’re playing dirty with me… Fine. I’ll see just what you’re up to.”

Victor smiled silently and beckoned One-Eyed Dragon Gru over. He whispered a few instructions in his ear, and Gru nodded repeatedly. He walked to the front of the grandstand and bellowed, “Viscount Randell bets on Jorne to win… for one hundred Gold Sol!”

Just as the crowd was trying to make sense of this, Gru shouted again, “The Marchioness, Sophia Wimbledon, bets on James to win, for ten thousand Gold Sol!”

A hush fell over the grandstand. Then, Lady Audel let out a light laugh and stepped forward to announce, “On behalf of Viscount Fredrick York, I bet on Jorne to win, for one hundred Gold Sol.”

As if they had received an order, the lords of the Centaur Hills began to place their bets.

“Earl Teldrane bets on Jorne to win, for one hundred Gold Sol.”

“Baron Bruce bets on Jorne to win, for one hundred Gold Sol.”

“Viscount Harnas bets on Jorne to win, for one hundred Gold Sol.”

“Viscount Giles bets on Jorne to win…”

Following them, the five great Court Marquess families of Gambis also began to wager. Without exception, they all backed Jorne, with bets no higher than five thousand Gold Sol. Most of the representatives of the Gambis lords chose not to bet at all; only the Joshua family and House Sorim bet on Jorne to win, wagering two thousand Gold Sol and one hundred Gold Sol respectively.

Williams shook his head with a self-deprecating smile, then gave Victor an appreciative nod. Victor rose, bowed elegantly, and then sat back down.

“What does your Master mean by this?” Tournans asked Narsen, rubbing his shiny bald head.

Narsen spread his hands. “How should I know?” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“You stupid bear!” Tournans shot Narsen a disdainful look, then turned to Bishop Pello. “Explain it to this clod!”

“He’s playing the spoiler,” Bishop Pello said with a sigh. “Grand Duke Williams broke the betting etiquette for the sake of the Royal Family’s dignity. The Auguste family is about to hold a coronation ceremony, and the Royal Tournament is already in the works. If the York family scoops up all the outstanding contestants, leaving none for the Royal Family, what would become of the Auguste family’s dignity? It doesn’t matter which side Jorne chooses to join; Grand Duke Williams had to show everyone the Royal Family’s stance and, in the process, gauge the positions of the lords.”

“Faced with the Grand Duke’s provocation, Lady Katerina could not show the slightest sign of backing down. But this would have cornered the lords of Gambis, who would be reluctant to openly support the York family, placing the Centaur Hills in danger of being isolated by the other lords. That is by no means in the York family’s interests.”

“Viscount Randell’s choice seemingly aligns with the Grand Duke, but his wager of one hundred Gold Sol is a joke. Meanwhile, Lady Sophia, in her capacity as a Court Marquess, put up ten thousand Gold Sol to challenge the Grand Duke. A Court Marquess lavishly supports Lady Katerina, while the York family’s lords ‘support’ Grand Duke Williams with a mere hundred Gold Sol. Hasn’t this wager turned into a complete farce? The lords of Gambis naturally don’t need to declare their stance, because the York family is targeting Grand Duke Williams personally, not the Auguste family.”

“Sophia has two identities: Viscountess Randell and Marchioness Wimbledon. Had she supported Grand Duke Williams by betting on Jorne, her choice would have aligned with Viscount Randell, signaling her identity as his wife. But by betting against the Viscount, she is clearly acting in her capacity as a Court Marquess, which in turn serves the interests of the Auguste family. Surely Grand Duke Williams cannot, on behalf of the Royal Family, push a Court Marquess toward the Centaur Hills, can he? And this is Sophia we’re talking about…”

“The Grand Duke is the Grand Duke, and the Royal Family is the Royal Family. The lords must be loyal to the Royal Family, but not necessarily to the Grand Duke. Williams is not yet the Regent. Faced with this situation, there is nothing he can say.”

“So, Viscount Randell has transformed this wager into a squabble between husband and wife. Everyone else can just enjoy the show.”

Tournans nodded with stern authority and asked Narsen, “Did you get all that?”

“Nope.” Narsen’s head shook like a pellet drum. Tournans turned slowly, his expression utterly serious. “Pello, explain it to this stupid bear one more time. Make it simple enough for him to understand!”

“…” Pello fell silent for a moment before saying flatly, “My lord, the match is starting!”

The horns blared. Two horses charged forward at full speed, their hooves making the wooden grandstand tremble. The two riders leaned forward, their lances aimed at each other’s chests, steady as a rock. At the moment of impact, James suddenly changed his thrust to a sweep. His lance whistled through the air, aimed viciously at his opponent, intending to sweep him off his horse. Jorne braced himself, blocking James’s fierce blow with his shield as his own spear struck his opponent’s shield head-on.

CRACK!

Both lances shattered simultaneously, sending splinters flying everywhere. Jorne swayed in his saddle, nearly falling, but he skillfully used his horsemanship to regain his balance. James, however, was sent flying like a cannonball. The knight in red-copper armor twisted nimbly in mid-air, landed on both feet, and took two steps back to steady himself.

“I’ve lost,” James said, shaking his head. He tossed away the broken half of his lance. His sorrel horse trotted to its master’s side and snorted, as if to comfort him.

“You are very strong, but you made a mistake. You shouldn’t have changed your move at the last second,” Jorne said with a victor’s smile, turning his horse to accept the cheers of the crowd.

“What was that? James lost to Jorne on purpose! Did you arrange this beforehand?” Sophia demanded, thoroughly displeased.

The beauty’s feigned anger had a charm all its own. Victor, however, was watching Jorne present the victor’s garland to a young noblewoman. He had chosen Roland, just as Victor expected. The Grand Princess’s bashful expression was intoxicating, but when she revealed her identity, the tournament champion was left utterly bewildered.

Victor could understand Jorne’s complicated feelings: I was supposed to pledge myself to the York family, but I just gave the victor’s garland to a princess of the Auguste family. But the princess is so beautiful, and she seems to like me… maybe joining the Auguste family wouldn’t be so bad…

Anyone who knew Roland knew that she was treating this world-famous tournament as a game, simply playing a role within it.

Jorne was doomed to be lovesick…

“No one arranged it. This was James’s own choice.” Victor turned back to face Sophia. “James lost the match, but he won at life. The same goes for you, my dear.”

“I… I don’t understand,” Sophia said weakly, then added petulantly, “I lost the bet, but the wager has been paid. My dear husband, don’t you think you owe me an explanation for why I lost?”

Victor chuckled and explained, “Duke York clearly wants to recruit both Jorne and James, but he values Jorne more. James is well aware that Jorne has greater potential than he does. If he had won, how would he face his future colleague, a Silver Knight? Jorne had no armor; if James had injured him, how would he have faced Duke York’s displeasure? In truth, James did his best. The eighteen-year-old Jorne blocked his sweeping attack. He is a truly deserving champion. By the time Jorne figures this out, his strength and status will have already surpassed James’s. Do you think Jorne will be grateful to James then?”

Sophia was dumbfounded. “How did you know what James was thinking?”

“I guessed.” Victor paused, then shook his head. “He became a Knight at twenty-eight and didn’t participate in the Centaur Hills Tournament until he was thirty-six. This Ranger’s goal is very clear: he wants to be a lord, not a Guardian Knight. I wager he is no reckless fool.”

“Rangers pursue fame, yet James used his fame to secure Jorne’s success. I quite admire what he did.”

Victor gently lifted Sophia’s chin and looked into her beautiful eyes. “Being ambitious is a good thing,” he said softly, “but when you reach a certain point, you should stop to consolidate your gains. My dear, how many freelance knights can leap to the rank of Court Marquess? Your power has expanded far too quickly. It’s time to rest and consolidate.”

Sophia pondered this for a moment, then raised a hand to caress Victor’s face. She sighed softly. “My dear, you truly astonish me. No wonder Sylvia values you so highly.”

Chapter 349: The Cocktail Party (Part 1)

The night the Tournament ended was destined to be one of revelry.

Hundreds of bonfires were lit aong the banks of the Silvermoon River. Skinned oxen and sheep turned slowly on roasting spits while cooks bustled about, smearing them with spices and brine until the meat was sizzling with fat and fragrant aromas filled the air. Long tables set up outside the tents were piled high with vegetables, sea buckthorn berries, strawberries, and bread.

Over two thousand contestants and their retainers sat around the bonfires, enjoying the food and wine provided free of charge by their host as they talked and laughed boisterously. Members of a traveling troupe weaved through the crowded throng, quietly inviting decently dressed guests to their tent for a splendid performance, patting their chests in assurance of how young and beautiful the troupe’s actors were.

Anyone with discerning eyes knew that the traveling troupe’s nightly performances were more than just song, dance, acrobatics, and animal taming. For a price, a guest could also receive a private performance from one of the actors. These performers were all handsome men and beautiful women, one in a hundred, and it was precisely due to their limited number that the nightly shows were open only to the wealthy. If a guest was handsome enough, could produce a bloodline certificate issued by the Church, and was skilled in sweet talk, the troupe’s young ladies wouldn’t mind spending a wonderful time with him. Many a down-on-their-luck bard made their living wandering with such traveling troupes.

Of course, to most, the traveling troupe was a place for vassals and lords to seek pleasure and select personal maids. Commoners preferred to find their fun in inns or taverns, but not tonight.

That morning, the Father from the Church had begun distributing pork to the people of Goldwater City. Everyone received over a pound of fresh pork. After finishing their prayers of thanks, the tens of thousands of faithful, including the tavern waitresses, rushed home to share their evening meal with their families. In such hot weather, the pork would not keep for long.

As a result, the entire Goldwater City was filled with the aroma of pork stew.

The great hall of Black Fortress was brightly lit. Eleven Knights, sixty-nine apprentice knights, and five hundred seventy-six noble scions with potential were gathered for a grand feast held by their host. From this day forward, they would put down roots in the Centaur Hills and serve the York family. The master chefs of Goldwater City brought forth their utmost skills—stewing, stir-frying, steaming, boiling, pan-frying, roasting, and braising. Every technique was on display as a stream of delicacies was carried to the tables. The new members of the York family ate until their mouths were slick with grease, lavishing praise on the food. They even believed this magnificent feast was grand enough to be recorded in the annals of history.

And it was. The master chefs had begun preparations seven days prior. They were split into twenty groups, mobilizing over a thousand people in total to create this breathtaking banquet. The chief painter of the York family captured the scene of over seven hundred people dining simultaneously with his brush, creating what would become a world-famous painting.

Regrettably, the upper echelons of the York family did not attend the night banquet at Black Fortress.They were all at Rose Manor, awaiting the arrival of honored guests.

Hundreds of lizard-oil candles illuminated the elegant and magnificent great hall of the manor. Sophia wore a sleeveless, collarless long robe of fine linen, revealing a flawless, fair right shoulder and a pair of well-proportioned, lustrous arms. She wore no sash and no jewelry. Her purple hair was draped casually over her shoulders, and her delicate, jade-like feet were clad in a pair of sandals woven from rushes, giving her a comfortable and languid air.

Everyone was dressed in the same manner. At a post-bath cocktail party, there was no regard for status, no question of stance, no heed to background, and no decisions to be made. The aim was a relaxed and free environment for meeting and a light, easygoing atmosphere for conversation.

This suited the needs of the distinguished guests perfectly.

The envoys who had come to observe the Tournament were mostly heirs of the great families, some from rival powers. They had all come to the Centaur Hills with the intention of probing, so it was impossible for any effective agreements to be reached. Thus, there was no need for excessive formality or solemnity.

At this moment, however, Sophia felt a little ill at ease.

The Great Knights and lords of the York family were gathered around Victor, chatting with him intimately. As Viscountess Randell, Sophia was also surrounded by eight Great Knights.

Anyone would feel uncomfortable being surrounded by unfamiliar Great Knights. What was most awkward was that Sophia could hardly understand the content of their conversation; she felt like an outsider. Meanwhile, Victor’s confident and witty demeanor couldn’t help but remind her of Marquess Bastern, the Grand Vizier of Aerie Fortress.

Gazing at Victor’s familiar face, Sophia thought to herself that the old fellow was perhaps not even a match for her little husband. At least when he held court meetings, I didn’t have to stand there and smile foolishly like a flower vase.

“Harnas, your luck is truly enviable.”

“Indeed. We’ve only just built a few stream reservoirs, and you’re already starting to dig your canals. It seems my fief will be the last to build them,” Earl Teldrane said with a sigh.

Viscount Harnas beamed. “This is all thanks to Victor for helping us open up the green brick market in the Dodor Kingdom.”

The water project in the Centaur Hills was enormously expensive, and the York family’s finances were insufficient to support the construction of the main canals. To solve this, Victor had devised the strategy of funding the canals with the sale of bricks, but this strategy could not meet the needs of all the lords. Viscount Harnas was one of them.

Viscount Harnas’s fief was situated in the north of the Centaur Hills, bordering Soren’s Viscounty. In the hierarchy of the York family’s lords, he was the northernmost and also the last lord scheduled to construct a main canal.

According to The Agreement, whoever built a main canal would gain the right to lead the external sales of green bricks. But limited by geography, transportation costs, and market capacity, by the time Harnas was to begin construction, the green brick market would already be saturated. The bricks he produced could only be used internally, not exported for profit. This meant Viscount Harnas’s cost for building the canals would be several times that of the other lords.

But now that Victor had reached a sales agreement for green bricks with Viscount Negus of the Dodor Kingdom, the situation had changed completely.

Previously, the green bricks of the Centaur Hills had three major consumer markets. The first was the internal market of the Centaur Hills itself. The second, with Wildwillow City as its hub, radiated out to House Sorim’s Copper City in southern Gambis and the Wellington family’s Vistock in the south-central region; this was collectively known as the southern market. The third was Goldwater City’s eastern neighbors, the western lords led by the Nim family, known as the eastern market. Now, Soren’s Viscounty and Negus’s Viscounty were being added, and they could even sell bricks to fiefs further north through Viscount Negus.

Proximity to the green brick market determined the order in which one got to eat the meat or drink the soup. Victor’s Laketon and Duke York’s Goldwater City not only got to eat the meat first but also held the power to allocate the green brick market. Viscount Harnas originally couldn’t even get a sip of the soup from the brick trade, but now that Victor had opened up the northern market, he had suddenly transformed into the leader among the northern lords.

Earl Teldrane and Viscount Jiris, fellow northern lords, were both green with envy at Harnas’s luck, and Harnas was naturally grateful to Victor. After all, the brick trade could stimulate the circulation of goods, which represented wealth and prosperity.

“Victor, if there’s anything Raven Town needs help with, just say the word,” Harnas said, patting his sturdy chest.

“Harnas, what could Viscount Randell possibly need your help with?” Lady Audel cast a charming glance at Victor and covered her mouth to chuckle. “I’m afraid it’s you who truly needs Victor’s help.”

“Lady Audel is right,” Viscount Harnas laughed heartily, then said eagerly, “Victor, I didn’t expect my fief to be among the first to build its canals. Would you be able to spare some time to help me check the canal’s site selection, to prevent any mistakes when it’s time to let the water flow?”

Victor swirled the wine in his cup and smiled. “There’s no need to worry about the main canal’s location. Although we haven’t diverted the water yet, Master Edwin and I have already completed the topographical survey. Each medium-sized stream reservoir is a node. My lords, as long as you build the reservoirs according to the markings on the sand table and then connect them, there will be no errors.”

“That’s a relief,” Harnas nodded with a smile, then added, “Victor, there is one more thing I’d like to ask your help with.”

“I’m listening,” Victor said nonchalantly, taking a sip of the Golden Iris Wine brewed from Purple Cane.

Harnas paused for a moment before explaining, “It’s like this. My fief only has one giant brick kiln, which was originally sufficient. But now that I have to sell green bricks to Viscount Soren and Viscount Negus, one giant kiln is clearly not enough to supply three fiefs. So, I have ordered the construction of two more giant brick kilns. The problem is, I don’t have that many construction craftsmen and brick-making stewards. Your Excellency, could you lend me some men? Once my kilns are up and running, I will return them to you. I am willing to cover their wages and pay a fee to House of Randell.”

Victor pondered for a moment, his brow furrowing. “To get two brick kilns up and running properly will likely take more than a year or two, won’t it? It isn’t easy for me to train skilled stewards and craftsmen either, and most of them are freemen. I can’t break the rules of investiture and grant them land immediately. If these men voluntarily choose to stay in your fief, I doubt you’d be able to return them to me.” He paused, a half-smile on his face. “Your Excellency Harnas, you’re not trying to poach my people, are you?”

“Well…” Harnas took a sip of wine to hide his awkwardness, then said sincerely, “Victor, please help me out. I’m in desperate need of these people. I can pay you an inducement fee—one hundred Gold Sol for each ordinary craftsman and three hundred fifty for a steward. What do you think?”

Victor shook his head. “That’s impossible. My lord Duke made the same request, but I refused him. Before the end of this year’s Season of Water, the main canal in the Randell Fief will be fully connected. I will then transfer the leadership of green brick sales to Goldwater City. However, the Randell Fief still needs to build ring canals, auxiliary canals, small stream reservoirs, and terraced fields. The demand for green bricks will remain high, so it is necessary to retain a sufficient number of skilled craftsmen and stewards. However, I will abide by The Agreement and hand over the profits from brick sales to Lord Enbise, as funds for the construction of main canals in other fiefs. In the future, if you have any problems, you should consult with my lord Duke.”

Duke York patted his round belly and said with a grin, “My lords, although I am your liege lord, I will not interfere in your internal affairs. Besides, the territory under my direct rule exceeds fifty thousand square kilometers. My main canals are longer than yours, I have more reservoirs, and building up my towns will also require a large quantity of green bricks. Where would I find the craftsmen to lend to you?”

“Enbise, you can’t say that,” Earl Teldrane said bluntly, taking advantage of his seniority over Duke York. “Victor is not our liege lord, but when he was in charge of the brick industry, he not only opened up the Wildwillow City market but also helped us open the northern market for green bricks. As our liege lord, you can’t just do nothing, can you?”

Viscount Jiris also took the opportunity to chime in. “The southern, central, and northern parts of the Centaur Hills should all be digging canals and making bricks for sale at the same time. Only in this way can the water project be completed ahead of schedule, which will benefit everyone. My lord Duke, you can’t just ignore us northern lords!”

Enbise clicked his tongue. “How about this: you send your people to learn? I guarantee my stewards and craftsmen will teach them everything they know…”

“My lord, we don’t lack the techniques; we can train our own stewards and craftsmen. What we lack are skilled craftsmen and stewards, and we need them now! A lot of them!”

“Didn’t Victor just say it? I’m short on people too. It’s useless to pressure me!” Enbise rolled his eyes, deciding to play the rogue.

At a post-bath cocktail party, propriety was set aside and attendees spoke their minds. The families from the northern fiefs immediately fell into a heated argument with the lords from the central region. Lady Katerina shot Bruce a look. Bruce understood at once and interjected, “Everyone, please calm down. I have a question for Victor.”

“Go ahead, Bruce,” Victor said magnanimously.

Bruce smiled. “Victor, my question is about the terraced fields.”

Chapter 350: The Reception (Part Two)

“Terraced fields…”

Victor nodded and explained, “The hills here are mostly earthen mounds, no more than one thousand two hundred meters high. They have a strong capacity for water storage and the soil is fertile, a fact proven by the dense vegetation covering them. I’m sure you have all heard that I’ve been developing terraced fields to plant Spiked Kidney Beans. I plan to build large cisterns at the summits of these hills using green bricks to collect rainwater. This way, I can plant all sorts of crops on the terraces, including wheat, rye, beans, vegetables, fruit trees, flax, herbs, ground-potatoes, alfalfa, and so on.”

Viscount Fredrick pressed, “How many terraced fields can be developed on a single hill?”

“A few hundred mu at the least, up to several thousand for the larger ones. We can develop at least seven hundred thousand mu of terraced fields in the Randell Fief,” Victor said with a smile. “Of course, terraced fields are different from ordinary farmland; they require more farmers.”

The lords all drew a sharp breath, unable to hold back a wave of discussion. They were completely captivated by the prospect of terraced fields, ignoring the issue of needing more manpower.

“Seven hundred thousand mu?!”

“The Randell Fief is less than ten thousand square kilometers, but Audel’s and my fiefs combined are a full twenty thousand square kilometers. Doesn’t that mean I could gain over a million mu of additional farmland?”

“They are terraced fields, not farmland,” Earl Teldrane first corrected Viscount Fredrick’s statement, then asked amiably, “Victor, once the cisterns are built, can you really grow anything on the terraces?”

Victor nodded. “Of course. If you want to save a little effort, you can plant some easy-to-manage cash crops like fruit trees, vegetables, pasture grass, Purple Cane, or ground-potatoes. I recommend planting Oilwood, as fuel is indispensable for firing green bricks. Though the Gloomy Forest is rich in charcoal, the cost of purchasing and transporting it all the way to the north is simply too high.”

Viscount Fredrick asked tentatively, “Victor, how much Oilwood do you think would be appropriate to plant?”

“The more, the better,” Victor said coolly. “The Randell Fief is preparing to plant four hundred thousand mu of Oilwood.”

“So much! Oilwood doesn’t sell very well…” Viscount Harnas muttered.

Duke York waved a hand and interjected, “That was in the past. From now on, the supply of Oilwood will not be able to meet the demand!”

“Have you not noticed, my lords? The times have changed,” the portly Duke said, his spirits high as he scanned the room. “The development of New Agro-husbandry can support a larger population, but it also requires more manpower. In the past, a viscounty of seven thousand square kilometers could support at most eighty thousand people. Now, even without large-scale water projects, a fief can support two hundred and fifty thousand people after adopting New Agro-husbandry. If all those people still live in wooden huts, how many trees would a fief have for them to cut down? Green brick houses are the way of the future.”

“What a pity… we invented the giant brick kiln but failed to make any money from it.” Duke York looked pained. “To ensure the strategy of ‘funding the canals with the sale of bricks’ can be sustained, we had no choice but to sell green bricks at a low price. Even so, we will still lose money. I’ve roughly calculated that selling green bricks within a one-hundred-kilometer radius yields a small profit. Within two hundred kilometers, we break even. Within three hundred kilometers, we sell at a loss. Beyond three hundred kilometers, no one will buy them at all. Therefore, we have no choice but to hand over the construction technology for the giant brick kilns to the surrounding lords within seven years in exchange for their support. And since they don’t need to build large-scale water projects, the giant brick kilns can bring them considerable profits and influence.”

Earl Teldrane chuckled. “Enbise, you never pass up an opportunity to make money. Just tell us what you have in mind.”

“Uncle knows me best.” Duke York drained his wine in one gulp and said with satisfaction, “The function of the giant brick kilns is the same everywhere, but skilled craftsmen and stewards are far more important. Harnas is willing to spend money to hire craftsmen from the Randell family, and I imagine other lords will make the same choice. We can dispatch our people to help other lords operate their giant brick kilns and charge them a fee—say, twenty percent of the kiln’s sales revenue, collected for a total of three years. Oh, and they will also need fuel. The Oilwood we plant will sell for a good price.”

“My lord Duke, you just said ‘we,’ did you not?” Audel sharply caught the key word.

“That’s right.” Enbise set down his wine cup and said, patting his belly, “I am allowing you to participate in this grand business deal. Who wishes to join?”

The lords’ eyes flickered, but no one spoke. The drawing room fell silent. After a moment, Trisley’s brother, Viscount Gilda, asked softly, “My lord, what is the method for this joint participation?”

“Investing to become a partner,” Duke York said with great enthusiasm. “Some freemen merchants lack sufficient capital, so they pool their resources to do business and then divide the profits according to their investment. Although they are lower-class people, I find this method of partnership worth emulating. I am preparing to establish a merchant company to exclusively manage the business of giant brick kilns and infrastructure construction, with profits distributed according to the investment ratio…”

Viscount Fredrick let out a soft laugh. “Brother, isn’t this just what you often call ‘centralized procurement and purchasing’?”

“You don’t have to participate,” Katerina said coolly, handing a refilled wine glass to Duke York. “A skilled brick-maker and steward can produce at least one million five hundred thousand bricks per month. If you train your own craftsmen, you will only reach the same level after two years. Before that, your giant brick kiln will produce an average of seven hundred thousand bricks per month. The production capacity of the giant brick kiln affects not only the sales profit of green bricks but is also directly tied to the progress of infrastructure construction, including canals, houses, roads, bridges, and terraced fields.” With that, she turned to Viscount Harnas. “I can lend you the personnel. The condition is a twenty percent share of the giant brick kiln’s sales revenue for three years. Do you agree?”

“That’s a great deal. Of course, I agree,” Harnas said, spreading his hands.

“No lord would refuse this deal, would they?” Katerina said, raising an eyebrow. “Just think, everyone: when the lords of Sasan, Dodor, Naville, Eyer, Sus, and Borui build their giant brick kilns, how much money will our merchant company earn? How much influence will it have?”

“Now, who is willing to join?”

Everyone’s heart pounded at the prospect. Viscount Jiris finally spoke up, “How can we guarantee that the lords will honor the agreement? We can’t very well send an army to protect the company’s interests, can we?”

Duke York laughed heartily. “Simple. We hold a Divine Notarization.”

All eyes turned in unison to Victor. Only Viscount Randell would resort to Divine Notarization again and again.

Victor remained perfectly composed. “That’s right. The idea of a shareholding merchant company was thought up by Lord Enbise and myself. Whether you participate or not, I will hold a twenty percent share.”

“Shareholding system?” Lady Audel asked, puzzled.

“The company’s shares are allocated based on a partner’s investment. The more shares one holds, the more profit one receives. The company will hold an annual partners’ meeting, and major company affairs will be decided by a show of hands, following the principle of the minority submitting to the majority of shares,” Victor explained.

Earl Teldrane mused, “Is it only for the green brick business?”

“Not necessarily. The company’s scope of business will be decided at the partners’ meeting.” Victor smiled, then his expression turned serious. “I must make two points clear. First, the shareholding company will not interfere in the internal affairs of any fief; it is purely for business. Second, this is my personal decision and has nothing to do with Sylvia.”

Hearing that Sylvia was maintaining a neutral stance, the lords let out a visible sigh of relief. Enbise looked from side to side and said, shaking his head, “The company needs one hundred thousand Gold Sol in capital, divided into ten thousand shares at ten Gold Sol per share. Victor gets two thousand shares, I get four thousand, and the remaining four thousand shares are for all of you to divide. Ah, Victor originally wanted to take five thousand one hundred shares for himself. It was I who persuaded him to let you all participate. If no one wants in, that’s even better. I’ll take all of your shares.”

“How can that be?” Viscount Harnas said quickly. “If no one wants them, I’ll take them all!”

“Heh, don’t even think about it!” Viscount Fredrick sneered, then turned to Enbise. “Brother, how can four thousand shares possibly be enough for us to split? You should give us at least five thousand one hundred shares!”

“Don’t get any ideas about my shares!” Victor said with a wave of his hand. “Of my two thousand shares, five hundred belong to Phoenix. Her brother, His Excellency Anthony, not only designed the giant brick kiln and Silver Moon Manor, but he also helped me design a specialized aqueduct for the terraced fields. My craftsmen have already mastered these construction techniques, and they will become the backbone of the company.”

“I am providing capital, personnel, and technology. Two thousand shares is really not too many!”

Enbise paused for a moment, then said furiously, “What are you all looking at me for? I am a Duke! As your liege lord, I’m taking four thousand shares, no less!”

Earl Teldrane said nonchalantly, “Enbise, in a shareholding system, the shares do the talking. How can you use your status as liege lord to pressure people…”

Katerina spoke up. “Let’s do this. We will keep three thousand one hundred shares, Victor will have two thousand, and the remaining four thousand nine hundred shares will be divided among everyone else.”

Audel stroked the rim of her wine glass and said pointedly, “Katerina, that one hundred shares is no small matter…”

“Audel, what do you mean by that?” Katerina stared coldly at Viscount Fredrick’s wife.

“I believe it would be more appropriate to ask Lady Sylvia to arbitrate.”

Audel met Katerina’s gaze without flinching. Their eyes clashed, and it seemed as if sparks flew between them.

Victor watched with a smile, secretly delighted. He was dragging the York family onto the Golden Company’s warship. Katerina and Enbise wanted to use the shareholding company to expand their own influence. Their interests aligned, leading to today’s war of words.

The birth of the shareholding company seems simple, but once it touches upon politics, it becomes incredibly complex. I don’t care how you all fight over the shares. Once you’ve tasted the rewards, you wouldn’t leave this ship even if I tried to drive you off with a whip. And this construction company is only one part of the Golden Company. It will eventually embark on the path of international trade, Victor thought with satisfaction.

Just as everyone was squabbling over the shares, Sophia suddenly spoke up. “I’m very interested in this shareholding company. My lords, would you allow me to buy some shares as well?”

Audel was taken aback for a moment, then took Sophia’s hand and said with a charming laugh, “My dear cousin, House of Randell already has two thousand shares. There’s no need for you to compete with us for the remaining ones.”

Victor nodded with a smile. “My dear, I can transfer five hundred shares to you, at fifty Gold Sol per share…”

“It’s a deal!” Sophia’s eyes lit up, and she agreed without a moment’s hesitation.

“Shares can be transferred?” Viscount Harnas said, dumbfounded. He was stunned by Sophia’s extravagance.

Sophia’s beautiful eyes swept the room. “Is there anyone else willing to transfer their shares to me? I’ll pay fifty Gold Sol per share…”

“This Golden Iris Wine, made from Purple Cane, is truly excellent.”

“Indeed. Though the vintage is a bit young, the taste is mellow and smooth. A top-quality wine.”

The lords all raised their glasses, leaving Sophia fuming. Just then, Nicole, clad in a white robe, approached Victor with a graceful sway and said with a beaming smile, “My dear, I’ve selected twenty noble attendants for you. Alice has already taken them back to the Randell Fief.” She didn’t so much as glance at Sophia, but her powerful presence was an undeniable challenge to the Viscountess Randell.

Sophia lowered her head with a faint smile, took the wine glass from Victor’s hand, and a green glow of water element energy swirled around it, causing a white mist of frost to rise from the cup.

“My dear, when it’s hot, a chilled wine is more comfortable to drink,” Sophia said, handing the glass back to Victor with a look of tender affection.

“Hmph! What’s so great about that? I’ll be advancing to a Silver Knight soon,” Nicole pouted, glaring at Victor indignantly.

Victor’s scalp tingled. He was in a bind, not knowing whether to take Sophia’s glass or not. Female knights possessed extraordinary power and were not dependent on men. They rarely grew jealous, but when they did, no one could stop them.

Sophia set the glass down and turned to Nicole. “Nicole, we should talk.”

“You do need to talk, but not now.”

Sylvia walked into the drawing room, as dazzling as a ray of sunlight.

“The envoys from the kingdoms are about to arrive. Constantine, the Paladin from the Inquisition, has something important to tell us.”

“It’s about the Wizards, the barbarians, and the Ant-men—and about the Assyrian Empire that was destroyed by the Ant-men.”

Chapter 351: Cocktail Party (Part 2)

Before long, representatives from the major powers began to file into the living room.

Judy and Gillian arrived hand in hand. Nicole went to greet them, and the three began to chat warmly. The sight of the three beauties, lovely as flowers laughing and talking merrily, sent a jolt of warmth through Victor’s heart.

Nicole’s jealousy was directed only at Sylvia and Sophia; she was on excellent terms with both Judy and Gillian.

From a geopolitical perspective, Victor’s fief bordered theirs, and they all faced the threat of the Ant-men. This created a mutual economic and military dependence, a regional alliance of sorts.

On a personal level, Victor had saved Gillian, Judy, and Nicole. He had especially risked his own life to save Nicole, nearly dying under the Old Ogre’s bone club.

This deep emotional foundation, coupled with political necessity, had led Victor to treat Nicole as his wife, and she had consistently played the role of Viscountess Randell. When Victor was home, he had full authority over the matters of the Fynikos Barony, and mobilizing tens of thousands of able-bodied men was as easy as lifting a finger. When Victor was away, Nicole protected the interests of the House of Randell, and Lilia would turn to her for any issue she couldn’t resolve.

Victor’s and Nicole’s domains were essentially one, and their relationship perfectly mirrored that of a lord and his wife, much like Jiris and Audel. They were the two cores of their family, one primary and one secondary, executing the same policies, both capable of maintaining the family’s operations and protecting the security of their lands.

As the lady of the fief, Nicole welcomed her two allies. Judy and Gillian could not shake her position, but Sylvia and Sophia could change her very identity.

In fact, Sylvia had originally intended to use Nicole’s close relationship with Victor to gradually absorb the Randell Fief. Any children of Victor and Nicole would have to bear the York family surname and would have the right to inherit their parents’ lands. The bonds of a family bloodline were a very stable catalyst for integration.

However, Sophia’s arrival had made Sylvia change her mind. Sophia possessed several million Gold Sol, and her connection to the barbarians could alleviate the pressure brought on by the advent of rock brick. Although absorbing Sophia came with certain risks—the worst-case scenario being the Randell Fief breaking away from the York family’s control—Sylvia deemed the potential benefits worth the gamble. As long as the York family’s aberrant war beast was successfully developed, no power would dare to make a move on the House of Randell.

Sylvia’s influence was all-pervasive. The steward of Rose Manor had already hinted to Lilia and Elina that they should curry favor with Sophia. Everyone in the House of Randell, from top to bottom, was preparing to welcome a new matriarch. Nicole saw all of this. Sophia’s return was not a challenge to her position—it was a replacement of her role.

This was terribly unfair to Nicole, yet Victor was helpless. He, too, needed the rock brick fortress, needed to annex the Stag Merchants’ Guild, needed to expand the strength of The Golden Company.

The barbarians following Sophia south had shattered the balance of power. A storm was brewing in the human world, with every great crocodile stirring restlessly. A Marquess had already died in the Kingdom of Borea, and rivers of blood were flowing in the underworld of the Dodor Kingdom. The future might even hold the risk of war.

In the face of this grand tide of affairs, who could stand alone and remain unscathed?

Victor was at the center of the vortex. He had to proceed with a cautious heart, yet act with fierce ambition, devouring flesh and blood to strengthen himself. To be preoccupied with sentimental affections at a time like this would be the height of folly.

Perhaps I should reveal the Golden Company’s secrets to Nicole and teach her the Golden Toad Mystic Form. That way, she’ll understand her importance in my heart… Also, I must find a chance to talk with Gillian, Victor thought to himself.

Logically speaking, after more than three years, the river fishmen in the Chapman territory should have recovered their numbers. Yet Grand Duke Williams intended to build a port in the Chapman territory. This suggested that the Chapman family was secretly culling the river fishmen, and Gillian had concealed this matter.

Victor had no right to interfere in the Chapman family’s internal affairs, nor could he stop the Royal Family from building a port. However, a marriage alliance between the Royal Family and Gillian could very well change the alliance between the House of Randell and its neighbors. Victor was even more worried that Aerie Fortress would seize the opportunity to meddle in Wildwillow City’s political landscape.

Wildwillow City was a plump piece of meat now!

The most urgent task was to ascertain the Chapman family’s attitude and see if there was any possibility of maintaining the status quo. If the situation was irreversible, he would have to make preparations in advance… Victor began to walk towards Gillian.

Just then, his eyes fell upon the incomparably radiant princess, and he felt as if the entire room had brightened.

Upon seeing Victor, Roland let out a joyful cry, released the Grand Duke Williams’s arm, and gave Victor a warm hug.

No one would misinterpret Princess Roland’s gesture; she embraced Victor as she would her own brother. But the curvaceous and supple body beneath her loose robes made Victor’s mind go blank.

A delicate fragrance wafted to his nose, stirring his imagination. X-3 activated on its own, clearing the distracting thoughts from his mind and saving him from making a fool of himself in public.

There were three Gold Knights with keen Perception in the living room.

“Victor is my student!” Roland announced to everyone, pulling Victor’s hand and lifting her exquisitely beautiful face, proclaiming another of her identities.

Sylvia pursed her lips slightly, a fleeting expression that did not escape the notice of the two Gold Knights, Monstock and Farul.

It was no secret that Victor had received a court attendant’s education, had lived in Aerie Fortress for three years, and had been a companion to Roland and her brother. Now he had become Sylvia’s man… The noble Spirit Knight taking Princess Roland’s attendant as her partner… did this count as a marriage alliance? Sylvia didn’t seem too pleased. It was probably best to pretend not to know…

The two highnesses tasted their fine wine and desserts as if they had noticed nothing.

After several failed attempts to pull his hand from Roland’s grasp, Victor said with a mix of embarrassment and resignation, “Your Highness, I have yet to pay my respects to you.”

“Status is of no concern at a post-bath reception, Victor. There is no need for such formalities,” Grand Duke Williams said with a smile, picking up a glass of Golden Iris wine from the table.

“Uh… It seems His Holiness the Pope hasn’t arrived yet,” Victor said, trying to change the subject.

“His Holiness holds a venerable status. His every word and action is subject to over-interpretation. It would be unsuitable for him to attend an informal gathering, lest he spoil the atmosphere and cause unnecessary trouble for everyone,” a tall, straight-backed man said with a smile.

Roland tilted her head, looking him up and down before asking curiously, “Who are you?”

“Constantine of the Trigoval family pays his respects to you, beautiful Princess,” the man said politely.

The Trigoval family… the Paladin family that controls the religious inquisition? It was the first time Victor had ever seen a Paladin, and he couldn’t help but take a second look.

He had brown hair and light brown eyes, a handsome face, and a frank, easy-going demeanor. The sincere and friendly smile on his lips immediately made one feel at ease. He displayed neither the arrogance of a Knight nor the solemnity of a clergyman; he was like a Ranger—a powerful, well-to-do Ranger, unrestrained but not frivolous.

Of course, Constantine was no Ranger. He was a Silver Knight who had mastered Level 4 divine arts, possessing combat power comparable to a Gold Knight. As the most active Paladin in the religious inquisition, the weight of his authority was beyond the imagination of ordinary people.

Victor had no direct understanding of Paladins, but the first Paladin, His Majesty Nachtigal, was hailed as the strongest of all knights, his fame surpassing even that of Sylvia and Neovys. This alone demonstrated just how terrifying the personal might of a Paladin could be.

Furthermore, the Seven Great Paladin Families controlled nearly eighty thousand Sacred Warriors and over seven thousand battle priests. They were undoubtedly the most powerful armed force in the human kingdoms. All the armies of the various kingdoms combined would likely be no match for the Paladin Faction.

Most secular knights looked down on Paladins, believing their strength relied entirely on divine arts rather than their own abilities. This sour attitude stemmed from their fear of the Paladins.

A deep rift had formed between secular knights and Paladins after the Radiant Knights assassinated Emperor Lant. It was said that the two legendary paladins who carried out the assassination had violated the Radiant Code and thus lost the favor of the Supreme Lord, becoming ordinary Gold Knights. they had then joined the Feliett family, helping Feliett I to suppress the descendants of the Iron Mountain Empire’s imperial family and establish the Sasan Empire. Thus, the Sasan Imperial Family was essentially the secular representative of the Paladin families.

Additionally, the Seven Great Paladin Families were all ancient houses from the Era of the Chosen, with pure and noble bloodlines that produced an endless stream of high-ranked Knights. Their history was even longer than that of the Radiant Church. They had witnessed the rise and fall of the human world, their family legacies unbroken, their foundations incredibly deep. No one knew how many secrets and hidden cards they possessed.

The latent power of the Paladin families was truly terrifying.

Fortunately, the Paladin families were bound by the Radiant Code. The Radiant Knights led the Temple Army, stationed in the eastern Sasan Empire and northern Kingdom of Sus, specifically to defend against beastmen incursions.

As vested beneficiaries of the Church, the Paladins knew full well that if they violated the Radiant Code, they would lose the power of their divine arts. The secular lords would then swarm them, carving up their wealth and secrets and plundering their bloodlines. The Paladin families would end up like other ancient houses, replaced by new powers, eventually disintegrating and vanishing into the river of history.

Therefore, the Paladin families rarely interfered directly in secular politics. They and the secular lords needed each other and coexisted.

In any case, Constantine’s bloodline and background were in no way inferior to a Gold Knight’s. Victor had to admit that the Paladin before him was exceptionally charming.

Roland, however, wrinkled her delicate nose and said with disgust, “I don’t like you!” After a pause, she added, “And why are you named Constantine? You should change your name!”

The protagonist of the knightly drama, The Legend of Almenia, was named Constantine. This fictional tale described the love story of the Ranger Constantine, who used his strength, courage, and wisdom to defeat a dragon and save a princess.

The story was cliché, but Roland was obsessed with it.

The attendants at Aerie Fortress all assumed that the Constantine in the book was Princess Roland’s dream lover. Only Victor knew that Roland was actually fond of the “princess.”

When the little Baron lived in Aerie Fortress, Roland would often have Prince Edward play the king and the attendants play the dragon. She would occasionally guest-star as the princess, but most of the time, she made the little Baron wear a dress and play the imprisoned “princess,” while she herself preferred to play Constantine.

That was truly a dark period of history… Could it be that Roland’s sexual orientation is… questionable? Victor speculated maliciously.

The Paladin was taken aback for a moment, then replied elegantly, “I’m afraid I cannot grant your wish, Your Highness Princess Roland. My name is already recorded in the Church’s register… However, I believe you will like the story I’ve brought.”

“Is it merely a story?”

Sylvia was reclining on a chaise longue, one hand cupping her cheek, the other toying with a lock of her hair. She was stunningly beautiful, a picture of lazy elegance, like a noble queen whose attendants were the most powerful figures in the room.

Spirit Knights appeared randomly; in over nine thousand years, there had only been seven. Coincidentally, there were no Spirit Knights when the first Pope overthrew the tyranny of the Chosen, nor were there any during the era of the Pantheon’s Archwizards, the Claire siblings. The Paladin families speculated that the Lord of Radiance and some unknown evil god deliberately avoided Spirit Knights. When a Spirit Knight shed the constraints of their physical form, they represented the will of the Elemental Sea, and any other existence in the world would be blasted into dust by them.

No power could compare to the world’s origin. Spirit Knights were the children of the world and must be treated with the greatest respect.

Constantine recalled his family’s teachings. He bowed solemnly to Sylvia and said with the utmost deference, “Your esteemed Highness Sylvia, the matter I wish to speak of is exceedingly ancient, spanning over ten thousand years and involving numerous secrets. A great many details have been lost and have been filled in with the speculations of my ancestors. It is not entirely accurate and difficult to verify, so it can only be listened to as a story.”

“And besides…”

Constantine glanced around and said with a smile, “Even if I were to guarantee that everything I say is true, I doubt you would all believe me.”

The Trigoval family had served the Chosen, pledged allegiance to the Pope, and then usurped the Pope’s power. They were witnesses to and participants in history, privy to many unknown secrets, but they had their own agenda. Even if Constantine were willing to reveal secrets, it would be for the benefit of the Paladin Faction. The audience would still have to judge the truth of his words for themselves.

Sylvia nodded. “In that case, Your Excellency, please tell us your story.”

“Before I tell my story, there is something I would like to ask Lady Sophia.” Constantine nodded, and a Church attendant carried a wooden box to Sophia. Inside was a beast-hide scroll. Sophia opened it, glanced at it, and handed it to Sylvia.

“Lady Sophia, have you seen the object depicted on this scroll?” Constantine asked.

“I have not,” Sophia said, shaking her head. “But I have heard of it. The object depicted in the scroll is very similar to the barbarians’ sacred object.”

Victor spoke up, “May I see it?”

Sylvia gave a beautiful smile and beckoned, “My dear, come sit by me.”

“I want to see too,” Roland said enthusiastically, pulling Victor’s hand and sitting right down on the chaise longue. Sylvia rolled her eyes at the princess, sat up, and showed the scroll to Victor.

“It looks like a component of an ancient artifact. The base is mithril, with black patterns on it… Can barbarians refine mithril?” Roland asked, looking up.

Sylvia asked softly, “My dear, have you discovered anything?”

The scroll contained not only a picture but also a written description. It was indeed a semicircular mithril casting. The style of the black patterns was as if from the same mold as the runes on the Saron Demon Iron sword fragment, and Saron Demon Iron itself was also pure black.

The barbarians’ sacred object is a creation of the Alchemical Empire! The barbarians are connected to the Alchemical Empire!

Victor suppressed the storm in his heart, shook his head impassively, and mused, “This scroll can’t be more than a hundred years old… Sophia, when did the barbarians lose their sacred object?”

“According to the barbarians’ Great Elder, the sacred object has been lost for over nine thousand years,” Sophia replied.

Constantine nodded. “No scroll can be preserved for several thousand years. The craftsmen of our Trigoval family must re-transcribe our ancestral documents from time to time. And it would have been impossible for us to predict a hundred years ago that the barbarians would be searching for their sacred object.”

“The contents of the scroll originate from an ancestral document from over nine thousand years ago. The barbarians’ sacred object was stolen by the Chosen—to be precise, by the Wizards of the Pantheon!”

Chapter 352: A Story

“You may have heard that the ancient Chosen were divided into two major factions: the Pantheon and the Council…”

I’ve never heard of it… Victor scanned the room and saw that the representatives of the great families all looked unsurprised. Only a few people appeared slightly bewildered. He felt a momentary pang of frustration, then comforted himself: I definitely know more secrets than all of you combined.

Constantine paused for a moment, then smiled. “To make things clearer, please allow me to take a moment to introduce the Pantheon and the Council.”

You’re a good man… Victor sat up straight, ready to listen attentively to the Sacred Warrior’s story.

“The ancient Wizards stood high above, uninterested in secular power. They were engrossed in the study of Wizardry, attempting to grasp even greater power. The knight families managed the Wizard City-states. Our ancestors believed that the greatest pursuits for the Chosen were to obtain eternal youth and the inheritance of wizardly talent. Heh, this is precisely the power of our knight’s bloodline.” Constantine let out a soft chuckle and continued, “The ancient Wizards were very powerful. They could directly mobilize the power of the Elemental Sea in the form of Wizardry, while those with a knight’s bloodline could never master Wizardry.”

“This world is fair. Powerful wizardly talent cannot be inherited, but an extraordinary bloodline that can be passed down is what is truly noble,” Constantine chuckled.

Everyone revealed knowing smiles. No matter how powerful the Chosen’s talents were, their regime had collapsed, while the knights remained the rulers.

Constantine continued, “The Chosen were not content with the status quo. They had enough time and resources to conduct relevant research. Gradually, the ancient Wizards split into two major schools: one was the infamous Pantheon, and the other was the relatively moderate Council.”

“The Pantheon believed that the innate abilities of Wizards were all vastly different, representing different laws and paths. Every Wizard could hear a different voice—the elucidations of a deity on the laws of Wizardry. As long as a Wizard absorbed experience from the ramblings of these evil gods, they could strengthen their own innate wizardly talent and eventually become a deity themselves.” Constantine paused, then said, “To put it metaphorically, it’s like a carriage driver deliberately eavesdropping on the conversations between noble scholars to learn from them, attempting to become a scholar himself.”

Evil gods? The Paladin calls them evil gods, which contradicts the Church’s propaganda. No wonder the Pope was unwilling to attend this reception… This means the Church and the ancient families acknowledge that the Lord of Radiance is not the only deity. The analogy of the driver, carriage, and scholars is also interesting… However, I think the metaphor of being inside or outside a high wall is more fitting. Sylvia once said that the Elemental Sea circulates in an endless cycle. The void element sinks, evolving into all things in the world. Matter dissipates, reverting to the void element, and is reabsorbed by the Elemental Sea. If the Elemental Sea is seen as a city wall, what lies beyond it? There must be something, because I came from outside the Elemental Sea… and evil gods?!

Victor organized the information in his mind as he listened to Constantine’s account.

“The Council Wizards scoffed at this theory. They believed that a Wizard’s lifespan was limited, and they could never reach the realm of an evil god even if they spent their entire life trying. The whispers of the evil gods could only serve as a reference. Wizards had to find another path. Innate wizardly talent was merely a key to open the door to a world of mystery. How a Wizard should proceed after entering that door depended on the guidance of their predecessors and their own exploration.”

“The Council Wizards emphasized commonality and legacy. They created many non-innate forms of wizardry, including meditation methods to enhance magical power, potion-craft to alter one’s constitution, and so on. Any Wizard, through study and practice, could cast non-innate wizardry. The Council called this wizardry ‘spell models.’ Therefore, Wizards of the Council school also came to be known as Mages.”

“The Pantheon Wizards pursued talent and individuality. By listening to the ramblings of evil gods, they strengthened their own innate wizardly talents and developed many auxiliary forms of wizardry centered around their respective talents. The Pantheon Wizards came to be known as Warlocks.”

“Warlocks possessed exceptional talent and grew at astonishing speeds, but Mages occupied the majority of resources. The rift between the two sides grew larger and larger, and they gradually split into the two major wizard organizations of the Pantheon and the Council, ultimately triggering the Chosen’s civil war.”

Wait! This is a critical point in history… The organizational structure of the Mage Council is very similar to the parliamentary politics of the Alchemical Empire. Could the Alchemical Empire’s Mages’ Association be the predecessor of the Mage Council?

“Your Excellency Constantine, please allow me to interrupt,” Victor said, taking advantage of his status as a newcomer to ask, “The Pantheon split off from the Mage Council, which means the Council has a longer history. Do you know about the Council’s origins?”

“Your Excellency Randall, the Pantheon existed before the Council.” Constantine shook his head and said, “The Warlocks gained the upper hand in the competition and were the first to establish the Pantheon. The Mages in the towers had no choice but to migrate to more distant city-states and form the Council. By the end of the Era of the Chosen, the Council only occupied a little over one hundred city-states, while the Pantheon possessed more than eight hundred.”

“That’s impossible!” Victor cried out involuntarily. “How could organized Mages lose to a disorganized rabble of Warlocks?”

Sylvia glanced at Victor in surprise, wondering why he was reacting so strongly, but she still opened her mouth to explain, “My dear, it’s not that strange. The innate abilities of Wizards vary. Some are utterly laughable, like making a stone change color, while others are incredibly powerful, even capable of transforming one into a terrifying giant beast. This is the difference between mediocrity and genius. Mages emphasize study and cultivation, ignoring the quality of one’s talent, and knowledge is passed down from tutor to disciple. This, in essence, is a system based on seniority. But don’t forget, the Chosen came from commoners, not noble families. Would a Chosen who awakened a supremely powerful talent be willing to stand on equal footing with a mediocre Wizard? The growth rate of a Warlock far surpasses the cultivation speed of a Mage. Would a talented Wizard choose the path of the Warlock or the path of the Mage?”

Victor was stunned for a moment before it dawned on him. “Once a commoner from the lower rungs of society awakens an exceptional wizardly talent, their only thought is to gain greater power as quickly as possible and climb to a higher position. Of course they would choose the Warlock’s path. I understand now. The Warlocks are all geniuses, while the Mages are mostly mediocre. The conflict between the Pantheon and the Council was actually a struggle between genius and mediocrity. No wonder the Council was no match for the Pantheon.”

“I guess the most crucial reason is that Knights dislike Mages and prefer Warlocks,” Roland said, tossing her platinum-blonde hair with a pout. “Mages hide in their towers all day. It’s so boring.”

Disliked for being boring because they’re shut-ins? Roland truly is a peculiar one… Victor thought to himself.

But Constantine nodded in approval. “Her Highness is correct. A Mage’s cultivation consumes a massive amount of resources and time. They only know how to take, seldom giving back. Whenever a powerful monster appeared near a city-state, it was always the Warlocks who led the city-state’s knights to exterminate it. When it came to gathering rare resources in dangerous areas, it was also the Warlocks who led the expeditions. Therefore, Knights respected Warlocks more. Gradually, the Warlocks gained control over the allocation of resources and the influence within the towers. The Warlocks in some city-states began to ostracize the Mages. Unable to secure enough resources, the Mages had no choice but to leave the Chosen’s towers and join other city-states.”

“Following the Pantheon, the Mage Council was also born. However, the Pantheon was akin to a scholarly organization, while the Council was a naked political regime.”

Ugh… I’m such an idiot. Even if a Gold Knight is peculiar, she is a peculiar person full of wisdom. No, Roland is simply true to herself. Sophia and I are the peculiar ones among the nobility.

Victor looked dejectedly at the high-born princess beside him, but it was Roland who spoke up angrily. “What are you looking at me for? Don’t you dare get any ideas about my Tutor!”

Victor awkwardly retracted his gaze and cleared his throat. “Mages need resources. To seize those resources, they could only establish a political regime. And only a regime can fight another regime. The result of that confrontation is war.”

“Yes.” Constantine smiled and nodded. “The Council and the Pantheon frequently had minor skirmishes, but the Pantheon’s scale far exceeded the Council’s, and Warlocks didn’t require that many resources. The true cause of the war was the Council’s own internal flaws. The Mages were unable to resolve their internal contradictions.”

“Geniuses and the mediocre are only a minority; those with ordinary talent constitute the largest group of Wizards. The genius Wizards gravitated toward the Pantheon, while the mediocre Wizards were useless without long periods of study. The Council could only rely on ordinary Wizards to undertake the tasks of defending their territory and fighting for resources. These ordinary Wizards had resources but no time to study spell models. They too ended up walking the path of the Warlock. Over time, the ordinary Wizards of the Council also joined the Pantheon, taking the research achievements of the Mage Council with them.”

“The high-ranking members of the Council realized that only the mediocre Wizards were their staunchest supporters. The Council was facing the crisis of its line of succession being cut off!”

“The population controlled by the Council was small to begin with, and now all the Wizards were running off to the Pantheon. The Archmages could finally sit still no longer. In order for the Mages’ legacy to continue, the Legendary Archmage Andrew invented the Blood Sacrifice, allowing the offspring of Mages to awaken wizardly talents. These people, regardless of their talent, would never betray the Council!”

Constantine fell silent for a long moment before saying grimly, “The Blood Sacrifice Wizards were different from the gentle, scholarly Mages. They were politicians, city lords, kings—aggressive by nature, cold and ruthless. Under their leadership, minor frictions escalated into war, and one Pantheon city-state after another was conquered. The Pantheon transformed from a scholarly organization into a political entity. They also began to use Blood Sacrifice and expand their armies. Thus, the War of Blood Sacrifices, which swept across every major race, erupted in full.”

“Just as humanity was on the verge of extinction, the great Lord of Radiance awakened!”

Constantine made a triangle over his chest, representing the Radiant Holy Mountain, and said piously, “The first Pope, His Holiness Inoc, received our Lord’s summons on the Radiant Holy Mountain outside the city of Eyer and founded the Radiant Church, thereby beginning a just war aimed at protecting humanity and overthrowing the tyranny of the Chosen!”

Everyone present, including the four Gold Knights, bowed their heads and chanted, “Praise be to the great Lord of Radiance!”

Constantine lifted his head and continued, “In the very beginning, the Radiant Church was extremely weak, and the Council was already being crushed by the Pantheon…” At this, he took a sip of wine and said with a relaxed smile, “As a Knight, I will tell you all that the Church once cooperated with the Mage Council. The Mages even helped establish our three great systems of divine arts. Please do not spread this information. If you do, we will deny it.”

Roland’s beautiful eyes shone brightly as she said brazenly, “This is the first I’m hearing of this secret… Please continue. I promise that Uncle Williams and I will never breathe a word of it!”

Everyone else nodded, promising to keep the secret. Only then did Constantine say, “The Church took root among the common people of the city-states and, under the cover of the Council, developed rapidly. The Pantheon could not withstand the combined assault of the Council and the Church and was ultimately destroyed. Only a few powerful Warlocks managed to flee to the Southern Continent, taking a portion of the populace with them.”

“The Mage Council still naively wanted to co-rule the city-states with the Church and promised to completely cease all Blood Sacrifice rituals.” Constantine sneered. “But how could our ancestors possibly spare the instigator of it all? The war to destroy the Mages was launched soon after. But the Mages were prepared. Dozens of legendary Archmages tied down His Holiness the Pope, while high-ranking Mages, in coordination with the city-state knights, annihilated the Church’s elite Sacred Warriors and high-ranking clergy. The three founding Paladin families of the early days suffered grievous casualties, nearly to the point of extinction. His Holiness Inoc led the remaining clergy back to the Radiant Holy Mountain and prayed to the Supreme Lord. Our Lord responded. He changed the laws of the world: Blood Sacrifice could no longer create new Wizards, and Wizards could no longer manifest the power of the Elemental Sea. Meanwhile, nine out of ten people in the city-states were followers of our Lord. The four great knight families also joined the Church, becoming Paladins. With their help, His Holiness the Pope successfully persuaded the knight families of the various city-states to stand by and do nothing. The Council was left isolated and helpless. Its demise was already foreordained.”

Based on the Paladin’s description, I can make the following analysis:

First, the evil gods are located outside the Elemental Sea. Wizards can hear their ramblings, which can be understood as a resonance of Laws. Different wizardly talents correspond to different evil gods, which means there are many of them.

Second, if Inoc were a non-human, the Council would have reconciled with the Pantheon to join forces and destroy the Church before ending the war. The fact that the Mage Council could cooperate with the first Pope indicates that Inoc was also one of the Chosen. From this, it’s clear that the Lord of Radiance is also an extraordinary existence on the level of an evil god.

Third, extraordinary beings cannot descend into the physical world, but they can communicate with Law resonators and exert their extraordinary power through them. Both Andrew’s Blood Sacrifice and the Pope’s prayer are proof of this.

The question is, why would extraordinary beings do this? What is their purpose? From a purely power-based perspective, if we consider extraordinary beings to be gods, then Wizards and clergy are like ants. Who would communicate with ants?

Let’s speculate. Blood Sacrifice is an offering and a plea to a deity. The evil gods required Wizards to sacrifice to them and gave power in return… Ha, their situation must be dire. They’re on the brink of collapse, forced to make deals with ants. Prayers of faith are also offerings and pleas. The Lord of Radiance found a better way. He wants to monopolize the power of faith, so he cannot tolerate the existence of Wizards, not even Mages!

The Lord of Radiance being able to change the laws of the world is too exaggerated, isn’t it? If he truly had this ability, couldn’t he just have wiped out the Wizards completely? Therefore, the Lord of Radiance is not omnipotent. There are major restrictions on his ability to change the Laws. These restrictions are rules; he must abide by the rules, the rules of the world’s origin!

I highly suspect that the Lord of Radiance changing the Laws was in accordance with the will of the world’s origin… No, that’s not right! Why didn’t the evil gods have the Wizards believe in them, instead opting for Blood Sacrifice? They lack the ability to accept faith. Therefore, the Lord of Radiance is fundamentally different from the evil gods! The Lord of Radiance has special authority and bears a special responsibility. The authority is to draw upon the power of faith, and the responsibility is to protect the human race. This is a mutually reinforcing relationship.

The extraordinary creatures went too far, thereby activating the Lord of Radiance. And because of the Lord of Radiance, the evil gods are now about to starve to death. They found a special group on the Will Side outside the Elemental Sea and threw it into the material world. And that’s me… Their purpose is to use the King to activate the Alchemy Tower… Damn it, so I was just a side bonus.

The Alchemy Tower’s Law of Creation is similar to sacrifice. Assuming the Mage Council is a successor to the Alchemical Empire’s Mages’ Association, it provides a reasonable explanation for why Andrew conducted the Blood Sacrifice. He knew that sacrifice could be used to exchange for the power of the evil gods.

So, when the Alchemical Empire was on the verge of collapse, why didn’t the Mages’ Association resort to the power of the evil gods? There are only two possibilities: either sacrifice was ineffective, or sacrifice was forbidden. This means that the Alchemists of that era had a falling out with the extraordinary beings!

According to the King, the Alchemical Empire encountered a powerful enemy. Just as it was about to be destroyed, the Alchemists miraculously invented a void creation technique, using sacrifice to create alchemical creatures and ultimately defeat the invaders. Assuming the evil gods were the enemies of the Alchemical Empire, it’s impossible that they would have taught the void creation technique to the Alchemical Empire. Yet, since the Mages sacrificed to the evil gods, it indicates that the evil gods did indeed have some connection with the Alchemical Empire.

There’s one more question: who put the evil gods in such a miserable state? There’s too little information to deduce anything. I’ll skip this question for now.

The evil gods’ situation is dire, and they need sacrifices. This much is clear. After the Blood Sacrifice failed, they activated the Alchemy Tower. But what makes them so sure that I will continue to use the Alchemy Tower? What if I kick the bucket halfway through? What would they do then? If I were an evil god, I would arrange a backup plan, like bringing forth a powerful enemy—an invader that even the Alchemical Empire struggled to match! When the Alchemical Empire discovered that the evil gods were the masterminds, they had a falling out… and then the empire collapsed!

The conclusion is as follows: invaders are about to appear. The Alchemy Tower can defeat the invaders, but it will take a very long time. At the very least, the Alchemical Empire must be revived, otherwise the evil gods’ scheme will fail.

The above speculation is built on an assumption. The key point is that I must prove the Mage Council and the Alchemical Empire’s Mages’ Association share the same lineage.

The Masked Brotherhood has the formula for the color-changing dye. Is the Mage Council their backer? I need more evidence. I must find their base of operations, no matter the cost!

The X-3 implant hummed at high speed. The steady, continuous pulse of fire element attracted the attention of the high-ranked Knights. Victor’s eyes were vacant as he stared blankly at the Paladin.

Sylvia gently stroked her lover’s chin and said dotingly, “Victor is thinking about something. Your Excellency Constantine, please continue.”

“That’s truly… an enviable application of the fire element. Heh heh.” Constantine gave a dry laugh and said, “On the eve of the Pantheon’s flight, the Warlocks organized an army to invade Mount Arreat…” He mused, “Mount Arreat is a strange place. The barbarians have guarded it for generations, and once a Wizard ventures deep into the mountains, their ability to cast spells is continuously weakened. It is a famous no-magic zone. Even the Blood Sacrifice Wizards didn’t dare to have designs on the barbarians. The result of the invasion was obvious: the Pantheon’s army was almost completely annihilated. Only one legendary wizard and a few legendary knights escaped. They stole a sacred object guarded by the barbarians.”

“Later, that knight family defected to the Radiant Church. My ancestor personally received them and learned what had happened. They drew a picture of the sacred object, which my ancestor stored within the Church.” Constantine shrugged. “The Eresgar family died out thousands of years ago, so there is nothing to corroborate this story.”

Roland propped her chin on her hands, her interest piqued. “Go on, go on.”

“My ancestor didn’t know the purpose of the Wizards’ theft of the sacred object. What was suspicious was that the barbarians didn’t give chase out of Mount Arreat. It was likely that the sacred object wasn’t anything important, so the Church investigated for a while and then gave up. The remnants of the Pantheon fled toward the Southern Continent, and everyone assumed that the Warlocks had taken the sacred object with them.”

“However, that was not the case.”

Constantine took a deep breath and said slowly, “Fifteen hundred years ago, the Archwizard Blair siblings caused chaos in the name of the Pantheon, which led to a pitched battle with the Church in Terror Valley. I won’t go into the details of the process. In that battle, the Church suffered disastrous losses. The Pope was sacrificed, the Pontiff was sacrificed, the Curia’s college of bishops was almost completely wiped out, and thousands of clergy died in battle. Although the Blair siblings were purified by the Radiant Angels, the Church was severely weakened and powerless to resist the beastmen’s attack, which led to the collapse and disintegration of the Iron Mountain Empire.”

Duke Monstock let out a cold snort and said in a low, heavy voice, “The Gryphon banner still flies!”

The great lord was very familiar with this period of history. After the Pope’s death, the Radiant Knights obtained the Golden Horn. They were busy seizing control of the Church, and under the pretext of clearing out the remnants of the Pantheon, they mobilized bishops and Sacred Warriors from all over but did not promptly aid the Iron Mountain Empire in resisting the beastmen invasion.

There was another reason for this. The Iron Mountain Empire was founded by the Spirit Knight Verodica and the Sword Saint Draven. Empress Verodica’s relationship with the Sword Saint’s other lover, the legendary paladin Alijie, was atrocious. As a result, the Baselius family and the Testier family became mortal enemies. Ever since Alijie gave birth to Draven’s heir, the Testier family has held the position of Grand Commander of the Radiant Knights. It was no wonder, then, that the Radiant Knights sat back and watched the Iron Mountain Empire fall, and were now supporting the Feliett family to relentlessly bully the Baselius family.

It was all the Sword Saint’s fault!

Constantine just smiled slightly, not offering any defense. The feud between their two great families had nothing to do with his Trigoval family.

“The power of the Blair siblings was almost godlike. According to the spell system classification of the Council, they had already surpassed level nine. Facing a siege by six Radiant Angels, they actually managed to wear down and kill His Holiness the Pope. The mountains and forests around Terror Valley were razed to the ground, and a massive sinkhole appeared at the center of the battlefield.”

Sylvia nodded. “This has always been a mystery. Could it be related to the barbarian’s sacred object?”

The atmosphere in the living room instantly became heavy and strange. Under everyone’s gaze, Constantine nodded and said, “For now, I can only say it’s a possibility. When my ancestor was in charge of the religious inquisition and investigating the remnants of the Pantheon, he discovered traces of the barbarian’s sacred object. It had been taken by a wizard.”

“Because the matter was of grave importance, the only surviving legendary paladin of our Trigoval family at the time, His Highness Fahirsild, personally led sixty-four members of the clergy on a long pursuit, all the way into the Great Marsh west of the Centaur Hills!”

“The Great Marsh…” Sylvia sighed softly. “I have heard about this. His Highness Fahirsild crossed the Great Marsh and entered the mysterious Assyrian Empire. There, he witnessed the war between the Ant-men and the Assyrians. He destroyed the altar the Assyrians used for Blood Sacrifice, was hunted by the Assyrians, and fell shortly after returning to the lands of men. And now, the Ant-men have fought their way to the Centaur Hills… So, what about the barbarian’s sacred object? Was it found?”

“Definitely not! The barbarians also have mysterious powers. They prophesied that the sacred object was lost in the Southern Continent,” Sophia interjected.

“Indeed…”

“That’s not important,” Roland said, waving her hand excitedly. “Hurry up and tell us what Lord Fahirsild saw and heard in the Lizard Marsh and the Assyrian Empire.”

“Oh.” Constantine paused, then continued, “There’s not much to say about the situation in the Great Marsh. There is a passage formed by islands on the northern side of the marsh. There wasn’t a single low-ranking clergy member in His Highness Fahirsild’s tracking party, yet it still took them more than ten months to cross the Great Marsh, and they lost four people along the way. That wizard seemed to know the path. But he had been locked onto by a divine art. The tracking party followed the guidance of the divine art, pursuing him all the way to the Assyrian Empire in the endless forest.”

“The Assyrians are non-humans. They resemble humans in appearance, with grey skin, pointed ears, and the ability of night vision. They have vertical pupils, slender bodies, are skilled at climbing trees, and can even sleep in them. They use blowguns and poison to hunt their prey. The Assyrian hunters were very respectful toward His Highness Fahirsild. When they saw His Highness manifest the void element, they were practically in awe. The Emperor of the Assyrian Empire personally granted His Highness Fahirsild an audience, but their languages were mutually unintelligible. It took the tracking party some time to make the Assyrian Emperor understand that they were looking for that wizard. By this time, the wizard had already moved beyond the range of the divine art’s detection.”

“The Assyrian Emperor told the tracking party that the wizard had also been treated with favor, but he had already crossed the river and headed south. Near the banks of the Goldwater River, the Assyrian Empire had a cave, and the waterway inside it led to the Goldwater River. The tracking party discovered a dock built by the Assyrians inside the cave. That wizard had used a boat from the dock to cross the Goldwater River and disappeared without a trace.”

“The tracking party rested in the Assyrian Empire for a period of time and learned of the existence of the Ant-men from the Assyrians. The Assyrians had been fighting those monsters for tens of thousands of years.”

“How many years exactly?” Victor quickly pressed.

“It’s unclear. Due to the language barrier, my ancestor Fahirsild never fully understood the history of the Assyrians, but he personally witnessed the powerful Ant-man monsters.”

Gillian said dismissively, “Are the Ant-men really that powerful? Other than the Silver-rank Ant-man chief, ordinary Ant-men are not even as strong as an Elite Soldier.”

Constantine shook his head. “Miss Chapman, according to my ancestor’s records, the aging Ant-men are very fragile, but the ordinary Ant-men possess strength comparable to an apprentice knight! The Ant-men launch an attack on the Assyrian Empire every fifteen years to consume their excess aging population. When the Assyrian Empire attacks the Ant-men’s territory, they have to face hundreds of thousands of strong Ant-men soldiers!”

“Hundreds of thousands of apprentice-knight-level Ant-men?! How did the Assyrians survive? They could even launch counter-offensives?!” Princess Fenna of the Kingdom of Sus covered her mouth with a gasp. “It’s truly unbelievable.”

“The Assyrians have the protection of an evil god,” Constantine said. “The Assyrian Emperor told my ancestor Fahirsild that the Ant-men cannot invade the core region of the Assyrian Empire, an area of about two hundred and fifty thousand square kilometers. In the center of this core region is a temple specifically for sacrificing to the evil god.”

“The Assyrian Emperor invited my ancestor to observe a sacrificial ritual. It was, of course, a Blood Sacrifice. For every thirty Assyrians sacrificed, the evil god bestowed upon them one Assyrian Troll Warrior. Troll Warriors are completely mutated Assyrians. They have massive bodies, strength that surpasses an Ogre Warlord, and they also possess a berserk talent, terrifying healing and regenerative abilities, and are almost impossible to kill. They feel no pain, have the intelligence of a wild beast, and completely obey the Assyrian Emperor.” Constantine further explained, “The Assyrian Emperor is the evil god’s high priest.”

Sylvia said coldly, “Fahirsild used the Assyrians’ respect and trust to destroy the evil god’s altar, leading to the Assyrian Empire’s destruction at the hands of the Ant-men. I couldn’t care less about the fate of the Assyrians, but now the Ant-men are threatening the Centaur Hills. Hundreds of thousands of apprentice-knight-level Ant-men… Heh, how interesting!”

Constantine was silent for a moment before saying with a涩声道, “My ancestor did not describe the process of the Blood Sacrifice in detail. He used the words ‘inhumanly cruel’ and ‘supremely evil’ to describe it. He believed that the Assyrian Empire was far more dangerous than the Ant-men, and they had to destroy the altar even at the cost of their own lives. The Church deeply agrees with this sentiment. The Ant-men are, after all, mindless monsters, but who knows what an evil god would do. The Assyrians were so enthusiastic towards humans; they were likely acting under the instructions of the evil god.”

Sylvia stood up, curtsied, and said solemnly, “I apologize for my earlier misstatement. His Highness Fahirsild and the members of the tracking party were true heroes, worthy of the admiration of future generations.”

Constantine crossed his arms over his chest and returned a solemn bow, saying, “My ancestor Fahirsild secretly destroyed the altar. Not only were all the members of the tracking party hunted by the Assyrians, but they were also cursed by the evil god. They aged rapidly. Only my ancestor Fahirsild was unaffected by the curse and still retained his full combat strength. But in reality, my ancestor’s soul suffered a grievous wound. His soul decayed rapidly, and not long after his return, he fell.”

A sense of solemn respect filled the group. Fahirsild and the clergy had the opportunity to return safely, but in the face of a matter concerning the survival of their race, they chose to sacrifice their lives to nip the danger in the bud, and they paid the ultimate price.

To sacrifice one’s life for benevolence and righteousness—they were truly worthy of being called heroes.

Roland stood up and clapped. “Legendary heroes should be sung of in epics!”

“Because it involved the barbarian’s sacred object and the Archwizard Blair siblings, the Church concealed this matter.”

Constantine said, “We do not know the true purpose of the sacred object, but we absolutely cannot take the risk. The reason why the barbarians suddenly want to retrieve the sacred object is unknown, but His Holiness the Pope and Grand Commander Ernst believe there are two possibilities. First, Arreat is about to face a drastic change, and the sacred object can resist a powerful enemy or disaster. Second, the sacred object is merely a totem for the barbarians, and the barbarian tribes are using the search for the sacred object as a pretext to arrange for their tribe members to cross the river to seek refuge, spreading out to preserve their bloodline.”

“If it’s the second possibility, that would be truly terrible. It would mean the barbarians believe the entire northern continent is unsafe,” Williams murmured. “Building a port is very important… And the barbarian kingdoms of the Southern Continent are full of hostility towards humans. This won’t be easy to handle.”

Viscount Negus stood up and bowed. “Your Highness Williams, my King asked me to pass on a message to you. If Gambis clears out the fishmen on the riverbanks, the Iron Wall Knights of the Dodor Kingdom will be redeployed to the center of the kingdom. As for what happens after the port is built, the two sides can discuss it further.”

Williams smiled, offering no comment. Marquess Faroul of Naville frowned. “His Holiness the Pope’s Great Divination can glimpse future disasters.”

“The price of casting the Great Divination is enormous, and His Holiness the Pope is advanced in age,” Constantine said. “There are signs indicating that even if a disaster occurs, it will be a long time from now. Otherwise, Elder Harald would have already crossed the river south from the Kingdom of Borea. The barbarians seem unwilling to leave the northern continent; they are thinking of returning to Arreat. We have ample time to ascertain the true intentions of the barbarians. His Holiness the Pope has promised that if, within twenty years, we still cannot learn the full story from the barbarians, he will cast the Great Divination, even at the cost of his own life.”

“Elder Harald might not know either. They are just following their ancestors’ prophecy,” Sophia said, shaking her head.

Constantine smiled. “Someone in the mountain tribes must know. Whether it is from Elder Harald or from the elders of the mountain tribes, we must find a way to uncover the truth. But before the situation becomes clear, I ask you all to exercise restraint. With the barbarians, we must neither get too close nor become too distant. Although we wish to form an alliance with the mountain tribes, we absolutely do not want to get dragged into the barbarians’ muddy waters. We cannot deal with the barbarians’ enemies. At most, we can provide them with material assistance.”

Sylvia spoke up, asking, “How are the battles in the north?”

“It’s a stalemate,” Duke Monstock replied. “The Centaurs are not easy to deal with. The strength of those beasts is comparable to heavy draft horses, yet they are agile and swift as the wind. The Empire has already sacrificed nearly twenty thousand soldiers, but we cannot sit by and watch the Centaur tribes merge into a single Centaur Khanate. This is a war we must fight, whether we want to or not!”

Marquess Faroul nodded. “His Majesty Resk is considering sending troops to join the war, but we must first crush the Ogre tribes entrenched in the Giantstone Mountains.”

Sylvia turned her head to Sophia and said, “My dear cousin, you’ve heard. The current situation is not optimistic. We cannot get entangled in the affairs of Arreat. The barbarian elder has promised you three followers. The Gold-rank Berserker is named Raegzo, correct? I hope you will consider my suggestion: help the barbarians cross the river and grant your followers their freedom. The reward from Arreat is too heavy a price for you to bear. Unless…” Sylvia looked towards Princess Anqi, who was beside Duke Monstock, and continued, “Unless you join the Moon Bear family’s Teutonic Duchy and become neighbors with the barbarians of Arreat. Only then would Raegzo serve you.”

Sophia pondered for a moment, then nodded. “I will consider it seriously.”

Sylvia stood up, scanned the room, and her red lips parted slightly. “The story is finished. Let’s end the reception here. Gillian and Judy, feel free to stay at Rose Manor. I have prepared rooms for you.”

“What about me?” Roland asked, pointing to her own nose.

Sylvia squeezed out three words through gritted teeth: “Whatever you want.”

“Forget it. I’ll stay with Katerina. Enbise, get lost.”

Roland giggled, grabbed Katerina’s hand, and walked out of the living room. The others also bid their farewells one by one. Victor suddenly turned to the Paladin and asked, “Your Excellency Constantine, there are remnant Wizards from the Pantheon, but what about the Council?”

“The Council?” Constantine turned back in astonishment, then smiled. “Once an organization of mediocre wizards loses its line of succession, what remnants could there possibly be?”

Chapter 353: Night Talk (Part 1)

The night was deep, a silver moon hanging high in the sky.

Pale, cold moonlight shrouded Rose Manor. The night wind blew, and the dark shadows of the bushes swayed restlessly, like ghosts baring their fangs and brandishing their claws. The chirping of the white-toothed crickets was like the ghosts’ whispering, weaving and discussing one conspiracy after another, vowing to crawl from the graves of history.

Victor rested his hands on the exquisitely carved window frame, gazing at the indistinct courtyard. He felt as if he were in a desolate wilderness shrouded in mist, unable to see the way forward, yet with shadows closing in on all sides. It was impossible not to feel anxiety and bewilderment sprout in his heart.

The fall of the Chosen’s regime, the destruction of the Assyrian Empire, the migration of the Forest Centaurs, the sudden attack of the Ant-men, the ancient prophecy of the barbarians—all these signs seemed to herald the arrival of a powerful enemy, the approach of a great disaster. And he knew nothing about the future. He didn’t know if his opponents were men or phantoms; he didn’t know their, or their, or Their true intentions. He didn’t know when the great change would begin or end, nor what role he was meant to play. Thus, he was plagued by worry and felt completely helpless.

Victor wanted to find some clue from the timeline of events, but history had a great fault line. All his speculations were built on hearsay that was impossible to verify. The only tangible clue he could investigate at the moment was the color-changing dye of the Masked Brotherhood.

Unverifiable speculation was meaningless, wild thinking—what some would call filling in the blanks with one’s own imagination. And such flights of fancy were often a hundred thousand miles from the truth. It was like when Victor told his confidants he had inherited the legacy of a great figure, and they naturally assumed that the Alchemical humans were all death commandos secretly trained by an ancient family.

A sage of Huaxia once said: A wise man is cautious at the start; the slightest misstep can lead one a thousand miles astray.

The principle was profound, but if a person couldn’t let their imagination run wild, what was the difference between them and a mindless drone?

After hearing Constantine’s story, Victor couldn’t help but let his thoughts run wild. The more he thought, the more confused he became; the more confused, the more afraid; the more afraid, the more he thought. His mind reeled with terror, the light in his eyes flickered uncertainly, and his expression grew gloomy and heavy.

“What has made my love so worried and fearful?”

A delicate, fair, and lustrous hand rested on his shoulder. Victor turned to see Sylvia’s pure, sky-blue eyes. They held a playful smile and just the right amount of concern, making him feel relaxed and warm.

“I dare not say,” Victor said in a joking tone.

“Hmph.” Sylvia snorted softly in dissatisfaction, turning back to the sofa. She crossed her legs, folded her arms, and said, “Aren’t you just suspecting that the first Pope was also one of the Chosen? What’s there to be afraid of telling me?”

Victor smiled faintly. “My dear, you already knew?”

“No.” Sylvia shook her head. “This is the first I’ve heard that the Church once cooperated with the Mage Council. But so what if I know? It’s just a story from history; it can’t change anything. No one wants to see Wizards climbing back on top of Knights to boss them around again. As long as the Church upholds the Radiant Code and respects the noble status of the Knights, we will continue to support the Church.”

Victor sat down beside Sylvia and sighed, “What I’m worried about is the coming disaster… or perhaps, a powerful enemy.”

Sylvia froze for a moment, then giggled. “You’re actually worried about that?! You were frightened by a story?”

Victor’s face flushed. He tried to explain, “Mount Arreat is a no-magic zone. The barbarians have strong Physiques and are valiant warriors. Even they are preparing for the worst when facing an unknown opponent. Aren’t you worried at all?”

Sylvia shook with laughter. “My dear,” she said, smiling, “besides you, do you see anyone else who’s worried?”

It seems there really aren’t… Ignorance is bliss, I suppose. How could the enemy of the Alchemical Empire be some ordinary monster? A pity I can’t be frank with you… Victor sighed and shook his head. “Do you all believe the Pope and the Grand Commander’s speculations can’t possibly be true?”

“And what have they speculated? A disaster or a powerful enemy? Is it a disaster for our human kingdoms or for Mount Arreat? Is it our opponent, or the barbarians’? What kind of opponent? How many? What are their characteristics? When will this disaster happen? Where will it happen? You see, they know nothing. Is there any need for us to worry? And what good would worrying do?”

“But…”

“No buts.” Sylvia reached out a slender hand to cover Victor’s mouth, her voice soft. “I’m sorry, my love. You haven’t received a Knight’s education. I shouldn’t have laughed at you for being timid.”

Sylvia stood up and took the shield and longsword from the wall. She stood tall and proud. “A Knight should hold a sword and shield—to kill enemies with the sword and protect oneself with the shield. The sword and shield represent the will to fight, to resist oppression, and to strive for victory. We have many opponents; we have endured countless disasters. When we were pioneering new lands, were we not a disaster in the eyes of our opponents? Therefore, our swords are always sharp and our shields are always strong, showing that we will never yield and are always vigilant.”

Victor was captivated by Sylvia’s heroic posture with sword and shield in hand. He paused for a moment before asking, “And what if the enemy is so powerful they cannot be defeated?”

“There is no such thing.” Sylvia twirled the sword in a flourish, then raised her hands. The sword and shield floated back onto their hooks on the wall without making a single sound.

“I have glimpsed the mysteries of the Elemental Sea. The world has its own Laws; no living creature is undefeatable, and no race can prosper forever.” Sylvia sat back down on the sofa and smiled. “We have never been weak. If the enemy comes, we will annihilate them. If we cannot annihilate them, we will use our castles to slowly wear them down. If we cannot even hold the castles… can’t we run? The world is vast and boundless. Where can we not hide? And if we can’t even escape, then all that’s left is to turn back and fight. Even if we die on the battlefield, what is there to fear?”

“I never send my family’s Knights on suicide missions. But if we truly encountered an undefeatable enemy, I would first sacrifice the refugees, then my family’s vassals, then the common nobles, apprentice knights, and Knights… With the power of a High-ranked Knight, how could one not survive? My dear, you must remember, survival is always the most important thing!” Sylvia’s expression was grave, but when she saw Victor’s dumbstruck face, she couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. “Don’t worry,” she said, “even if I have to run for my life, I’ll take you with me.”

A civilized man from modern society, long accustomed to peace, would feel like the sky was falling upon hearing of an impending apocalypse. But the people of this world had always been fighting for survival. Centaurs, Ogres, Bear-monsters, Satyrs, Gnolls, Goblins, barbarians, Ant-men—which of them wasn’t a powerful competitor? For over ten thousand years, humanity had remained one of the strongest, most resilient races.

When the Ant-man army attacked Hill Camp, not a single person there was scared into wailing or collapsing. Even the peasant women silently gathered their children and fled through the back of the camp. They were already prepared for disaster.

The Alchemical Empire fell, but humanity survived. So what if this unknown enemy is powerful? With my strength, where can I not find a place for myself? At worst, I’ll be like the Goblins, hiding in the mountain forests and living a primitive life. As long as I’m alive, I’ll have a chance to stage a comeback… To hesitate and tremble like this is a disgrace! I’m worse than a woman… alright, I’m indeed not as good as a Spirit Knight.

At this thought, the gloom in his heart scattered and the pressure vanished. Victor shook his head and laughed at himself. “Our way of doing things doesn’t sound much like the heroes sung about in the epics…”

Sylvia mused for a moment, then asked, “What do you think a hero is?”

“Someone like Paladin Fahirsild, who dared to make a sacrifice?” Victor asked tentatively.

“Daring to make a sacrifice makes one a hero? Perhaps they’re just a hot-headed fool,” Sylvia said, raising a delicate eyebrow. “In my view, a person who dares to adhere to their true self is a hero.”

“His Highness Fahirsild was a powerful Gold Knight; he was by no means a reckless fool. When Fahirsild made contact with the Assyrian Empire, the human kingdoms were also exposed to the Assyrians’ view. The Assyrian Emperor’s cruel act of Blood Sacrifice with his own people utterly enraged Fahirsild and made him realize the immense threat the Assyrian Empire posed to the human kingdoms. That is why he chose to use the ant swarm to destroy the Assyrian Empire.”

“I believe that with Fahirsild’s strength and wisdom, he was fully prepared before he made his move. It was by no means a suicide mission. But no one can guarantee a plan is foolproof. Yet, since he made his choice, there was nothing to regret, regardless of life or death, victory or defeat.”

“Fahirsild wanted to destroy the Assyrian Empire, so he put it into action. He is a hero praised by humans, but a devil hated by the Assyrians. But he is dead now. What do the praises or curses of the living have to do with him? He simply followed his true self, without regret.”

“A Gold Knight adheres to his true self and becomes his own hero, never lost, never shaken. And that true self is his conviction, the unwavering path a Knight follows.”

Sylvia’s gaze was burning as she asked, “My love, what is your conviction?”

“I… I haven’t figured it out yet,” Victor murmured.

“It doesn’t matter. Forging a firm conviction takes time.” Sylvia smiled with grace. “For now, you must do what you can. For example, don’t be fooled by Constantine’s story.”

“Fooled?” Victor asked in surprise. “You think Constantine’s story is fake?”

Chapter 354: Night Talk (Part 2)

“The truth of the story doesn’t matter.” Sylvia gave Victor a deep look. “What matters is that you must learn to listen to stories and tell them from your own standpoint, not be led by the nose by flowery words.”

“Constantine is an excellent orator. By telling a story, he tactfully informed us that the Radiant Knights have already found their pretext. Anyone who dares to undermine the relationship between the Sasan Empire and the barbarians will face a fierce counterattack from the Radiant Knights.”

“My dear, today I will teach you how to listen to a story from your own standpoint.” Sylvia smiled faintly and asked, “Why would Constantine waste his breath reciting a secret history about Mages, Warlocks, and the first Pope?”

Victor pondered for a moment, then said sheepishly, “I can’t figure it out.”

“Then think about it from another angle. What use is this secret to us? What effect does it have on the Church?” Sylvia asked, patiently guiding him.

“No effect,” Victor said, shaking his head. “And it seems… it’s of no use to us either.”

“Useless to us, but very useful to Constantine,” Sylvia interjected. “He threw out a secret of little practical value to pique everyone’s curiosity and add weight to his words. First, the Paladin families know the secret, while the audience does not. When Constantine shares the secret, we become eager to learn more, developing a sense of affinity for the one who holds a secret and is willing to share it. We unconsciously place ourselves in a lower position. In this way, Constantine seized the initiative in the conversation. Second, by revealing the cooperative relationship between the Church and the Mages, Constantine implied that the first Pope was one of the Chosen, and that he himself was a Knight. Since the Paladin families stand on the side of the Knights, it paved the way for the next part of his speech.”

“Fifteen hundred years ago, the Paladin families seized the opportunity to sideline the Pope’s lineage, take control of the Church, and interfere in secular politics. This has always been a point of contention for the lords. Now, the Paladins are presenting themselves as Knights, turning that usurpation into a struggle between the knightly class and the common clergy, thereby dismantling our resistance.”

“Next, Constantine brought up Fahirsild’s heroic deeds, showing that the Paladins have always been the protectors of the human kingdoms and possess the highest authority to enforce the law. With that, they claimed the moral high ground.”

“There is no evidence to suggest that the barbarians’ sacred object is related to the power of Wizards, yet Constantine forcibly linked the two. Then he proposed a difficult-to-verify speculation, claiming that a disaster is about to happen…” Sylvia sneered. “This is a threat and a pretext.”

“Clergy must swear an oath to abide by the Radiant Code to master intermediate and high-rank divine arts. Once they violate that oath, they lose their divine favor. However, anything involving Legendary Wizards and disasters is a major taboo for the lords. The clergy can righteously take strong measures without fear of violating their oaths. In other words, the Radiant Knights have already reached a consensus within the Temple Army and the Inquisition. At their command, the intermediate and high-rank Sacred Warriors and battle priests would dare to punish any lord. Even if the charges are baseless, the enforcing clergy will not suffer the oath’s backlash. If the Paladin who gave the order loses his divine favor, he is still a knight. The Radiant Knights have already arranged a way out for him—he can at least become a lord in the Sasan Empire.”

“Tell me, which secular lord would dare to act rashly?”

When clergy exercised their authority to enforce the law on secular knights, they would surely be questioned by the Radiant Code. This sort of questioning, which stemmed from the soul, was not something one could bluff their way through by simply being stubborn. For a long time, the hands of the Inquisition’s clergy were stained with the blood of innocents. Many Sacred Warriors and priests could not face their own guilt and thus lost their holy power. Yet some fanatics with unshakeable wills—who would impale commoners that sheltered Wizards on wooden spikes and let the victims wail and scream as they bled to death—could still receive divine favor. They relied on four simple words: “a clear conscience.”

Victor nodded silently. Sylvia continued, “Constantine finally revealed the Radiant Knights’ true goal: they will not allow anyone else to meddle with the barbarians. Hmph! We can neither get close to the barbarians nor neglect them, lest we threaten the security of the human kingdoms. To put it bluntly, the Paladin families are worried that the southern kingdoms will find a way to win the barbarians’ goodwill and ruin their important gambit!”

Sylvia shook her head and sighed, “Only Sophia spoke a single valuable truth. She said that Elder Harald might not know about the disaster, and that the barbarians are migrating south across the river to find their sacred object merely in accordance with their ancestors’ prophecy. That is the truth of the matter. The barbarians have guarded Mount Arreat for generations. They are brave and tenacious; why would they fear enemies or disasters? If a powerful enemy were to truly appear, they would be overjoyed.”

Victor was stunned for a long while before smiling bitterly. “I actually forgot our respective positions and was completely captivated by Constantine’s story.” He mimicked the tone of a Sacred Warrior, “We know many secrets; we are nobler and more ancient than you. We are also knights, and our usurpation was for the benefit of all knights. We are also clergy, and it is our undeniable duty to protect the human kingdoms. The matter of the barbarians is related to an Archwizard, and a great change is coming to Arreat that will affect all human kingdoms. You must all listen to us. Whoever disobeys, we will deal with them… Is that about right?” As he spoke, he raised his voice in anger, “Do the Paladin families think they’ve unified the kingdoms and become everyone’s emperor?”

“But aren’t they?” Sylvia said coolly. “The tithes paid by the various kingdoms support the Paladin families. The Paladins can conscript Sacred Warriors from among the faithful in all the kingdoms. Their Temple Army passes freely through the territories of all kingdoms, and they control the religious inquisition, through which they can punish the lords of any kingdom… Tell me, if that’s not the emperor of all kingdoms, what is?”

Victor was dumbfounded. “Then why is the Sasan Empire still fighting a war of unification?”

“And what do you think, my dear?” Sylvia asked with a half-smile, her slender fingers toying with her hair.

How can I let my own woman look down on me?!

A fire lit in Victor’s chest. The X-3 began to run at high speed, and his thoughts gradually cleared.

On Earth, there had been two “empires on which the sun never sets”: the Spanish Empire and the British Empire, where the sun would at any given time shine on some part of their territory. It was just as the psalm in the Old Testament said of the Messiah King: “He shall have dominion also from sea to sea, and from the river unto the ends of the earth.”

However, centuries later, the empires on which the sun never set had crumbled, their colonies gaining independence one after another. This involved many wars and bloody conflicts, and the most fervent resistance came from the descendants of the colonists themselves. That era already had trains, steamships, and telegraphs, which proved that geographical distance and blood ties were not the main conditions for maintaining unity.

A truly unified human empire must implement the same economic policies, the same laws, and possess the same values. If the suzerain could not protect the interests of its lords, then a great, unified empire was impossible to achieve.

Although they were all their own people, you couldn’t treat them all equally, just as the fingers on a hand are all different lengths. It was incredibly difficult for an emperor to achieve perfect fairness. The Radiant Knights had already reached the pinnacle of power; they stood to gain the most by maintaining the status quo. Unifying the human kingdoms would be a thankless and difficult task.

Victor let out a long breath. “The Sasan Empire is attacking the three kingdoms to divert its internal conflicts, and those internal conflicts were intentionally created by the Radiant Knights.”

“Exactly right,” Sylvia said with approval. “The Paladins possess the greatest military strength and shoulder the heaviest responsibilities, yet they do not enjoy a proportional share of the rights. They had long been dissatisfied with the Holy See, so their seizure of the Church’s control was entirely predictable. But the Radiant Code is too binding. The Paladin families want to escape its constraints, yet they are unwilling to give up the power of their divine arts. So, they secretly established a secular regime.”

“The Sasan Empire has three major powers. The east and south belong to the Feliett family, the west to the Baselius family, while the central group of lords and the northern Moon Bear family serve as a buffer between the two imperial families. The reason the Paladins arranged it this way was to keep a tight leash on the Feliett family, or rather, to control the family of fallen Paladins.”

“In the beginning, the Feliett family was just a small, exiled house. The Radiant Knights propped them up onto the emperor’s throne, and those Paladins who lost their divine favor continuously intermarried with the Feliett family. To this day, the Sasan Imperial Family and the Paladin families are connected by blood. However, Paladins who wield divine arts are ultimately different from ordinary knights. Even if they come from the same lineage, a great rift exists between them. And the root of the conflict is that the Radiant Knights order their secular descendants to assist in their campaigns.”

“Doing a Paladin’s work without a Paladin’s rewards,” Victor said with a smile.

Sylvia nodded. “Therefore, the Radiant Knights set up a powerful rival for the Feliett family: the Baselius family. To protect their own status, the Feliett family can only rely on the aid of the Radiant Knights, and thus they dare not disobey any of the Paladins’ orders.”

“To divert the Empire’s internal conflicts, the Radiant Knights instructed the Feliett family to launch a war against the Dodor Kingdom. Of course, this war was quite necessary, because if the three southern kingdoms were to unite, they would pose a huge threat to the Sasan Empire. The specific method of diverting the conflict was to use war to promote the green wheat trade.”

Sylvia hit the nail on the head. “From the Church’s standpoint, unsold green wheat should be given to the commoners for free. The Sasan Imperial Family turned the grain into wealth, which pleased all the lords of the Empire, so of course they were willing to help the Paladins defend against the beastmen of the wildlands. Not even the Baselius family was an exception.”

After a moment of silence, Sylvia spoke, lost in reverent thought. “His Majesty, the first Pope Inoc’s political acumen was truly breathtaking. He probably anticipated that the Paladin families would rebel, and the existence of the Radiant Code prevented the most fundamental danger. Just imagine, if the Seven Great Paladin Families were to unify the human kingdoms, they would undoubtedly fall into internal strife over power. The inability to balance the interests of all factions would lead to bloody internal conflict within the great human empire, and the fate of humanity would truly be in peril. As it is now, so long as the Paladins do not wish to lose their powerful divine arts, they can only cooperate sincerely to open up more living space for humanity. And we are also beneficiaries of this.”

Sylvia smiled at Victor and asked, “Have you ever heard of ale?”

“It is said that a long time ago, the northern lords would brew ale from green wheat. After the fall of the Iron Mountain Empire, humanity suffered from food shortages, and the Church forbade the brewing of ale,” Victor replied.

“It will be brewed again soon,” Sylvia said. “The water projects and the method of deep plowing and careful cultivation have increased grain yields. The Sasan Empire will have a huge surplus of green wheat. Aside from meeting the needs of population growth, the green wheat trade is basically over. Even if the Sasan Empire launches a larger-scale war, it won’t help. The unsold green wheat can only be used to brew ale. With ale, the Sassans can follow the example of the Kingdom of Naville, ignoring the limitations of water sources to build small castles and outposts at strategic locations, continuously expanding into the Eastern Wildlands. On the other hand, the south has Purple Cane wine and Juniper wine, so the barbarians’ Mount Arreat becomes the main market for ale. The Sassans want to use ale to trade for the resources of Mount Arreat, especially mineral resources. This is the Sasan Empire’s most important gambit right now.”

“No wonder the Radiant Knights won’t allow the southern lords to disrupt the relationship between the Sasan Empire and the barbarians, even using an Archwizard and a disaster as a pretext to intimidate us,” Victor said with a nod.

“My dear, the barbarians are just the catalyst. The one who truly changed the course of events is you.” Sylvia gave Victor a light peck on the lips. “They have their plans, and we have ours.”

“The Radiant Knights’ strategic focus will shift to the Northern Wildlands. Although they will still maintain pressure on the three southern kingdoms, the intensity of the war will be much lower. The Dodor Kingdom must seize this time to recover its strength, while the Kingdom of Naville must focus its main efforts on New Agro-husbandry and the construction of water projects. Marquess Faroul has already hinted to Constantine that they will not help the Sasan Empire fight the Centaur clans, but they will provide the Sasan Empire with raw iron. Gambis can turn its gaze toward the Southern Continent. Grand Duke Williams will use the Pope’s prediction of disaster to coerce the major lords into supporting his port construction, allowing the Royal Family to take the lead in southern expansion. And I, using the pressure from the Radiant Knights as a reason, will not allow Sophia to take on powerful barbarian followers. Gold-rank barbarian Berserkers are of no benefit to us, only harm. If Sophia refuses to listen, I will drive her out of the Centaur Hills after the barbarians cross the river. By then, all our strategic objectives will have been achieved anyway.”

“My dear, this matter is not up for discussion. Don’t blame me,” Sylvia said softly.

Victor shook his head. “How could I blame you? The last thing I want is for Sophia to have a Gold-rank Berserker by her side. If Raegzo were to go berserk, I really wouldn’t be able to handle her.”

“Uncontrollable power is a hidden danger to a fief,” Sylvia nodded slightly and chuckled. “You should go accompany Young Lady Gillian tonight. Ask her about the Chapman family’s attitude towards the port. Auguste’s interference in the Chapman family is a foregone conclusion, but I still need to maintain a certain attitude. In short, we can’t let them succeed too easily. We will set out tomorrow morning for the Randell Fief. The barbarian Elder and Sophia will travel with us. The Pope will not be going.”

“Didn’t His Eminence Clement say he was going to visit the House of Randell? Why is he not going now?” Victor was suddenly anxious. He was counting on getting some benefit from the Pope, preferably getting Tournans to help Narsen complete the Integration of his two Mystic Forms with the vibration secret art.

“Bishop Pello didn’t say so explicitly.” Sylvia shook her head, a strange expression on her face. “But knowing Clement’s character, I suspect he has already gone to the Randell Fief.”

Victor’s mouth fell open as he secretly thought to himself that the Pope was playing at an incognito visit…

Chapter 355: A Difficult Position

Victor pushed open the door and saw the Young Lady Gillian standing gracefully in the center of the room.

Her loose, fine linen robe had been torn into a short skirt with a ragged hem, which, paired with her breathtakingly long legs, gave her a wild and tempting allure. The top was knotted at her waist, and her flat midriff showed off the lines of a sexy core. Her beautiful phoenix eyes glinted with a proud, cold light, making her seem like a queen on high, inspiring an irrepressible desire to conquer her, or be conquered by her.

Gillian’s skin was the color of honey, her eyebrows were neat, her eyes were like a phoenix’s, and her figure was fiery. She was cold yet sensual, and compared to a high-ranking female knight with an affinity for the water element, she possessed an additional, more virile kind of beauty. Ordinarily, Gillian was flamboyant and unruly, with a devil-may-care attitude, but Victor knew that deep down she was just a young woman—a penny-pinching miser, tough on the outside and soft on the inside.

Victor’s Moon Elf bloodline gave him a natural affinity for the elements of wind and water, while Gillian was a high-ranking female knight with an affinity for the earth element. Perhaps due to their elemental compatibility, the two were in perfect harmony, and their relationship was exceptionally good. The Young Lady Gillian’s mixed expressions of delight, indignation, and defiant coyness always sent Victor’s confidence soaring, making him want to instinctively cherish and protect this seemingly strong but inwardly vulnerable little woman.

This was, of course, an illusion. High-ranking female knights were never dependent on men; not even a Gold Knight lover could force their will upon them. As a powerful Silver Knight, Gillian’s conviction could not be shaken by a happy romance or a doting partner. In a sense, Victor was her prey.

Victor was well aware of this, but the thought of Gillian in a marriage alliance with another man made him burn with jealousy. He asked bluntly, “Who is that man?!”

Gillian was momentarily stunned, then the corners of her mouth curled up. She sauntered over to Victor and teased him with delight, “Darling, you didn’t rush over here in the middle of the night for the port, but because of jealousy? Hehe, I love it when you’re jealous for me.”

Ugh… it was mainly for Wildwillow City.

Naturally, Victor wouldn’t say something so disappointing. He went along with her, deliberately putting on a stern face. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“Listen, you’re in big trouble. Someone is trying to steal your woman,” Gillian said, placing one hand on her hip and eyeing Victor. “How are you going to rescue me?”

Victor pinched Gillian’s smooth cheek, retorting in annoyance, “The Chapman family was secretly clearing out the Fishmen from the riverbanks, and you didn’t tell me. Now that the Royal Family has started targeting the Chapman family’s territory, you suddenly remember I’m your man. What were you doing before?”

“You’re my man, not the husband of the Chapman family’s heiress. Why should I tell you about our family’s internal affairs?” Gillian said with perfect justification.

She had a point… Victor’s imposing manner instantly deflated. He cleared his throat and said, “Tell me the details. I’ll see if there’s anything I can do…”

Gillian sat down on the sofa, propping her long, straight, beautiful legs on the coffee table. With her arms crossed, she said, “It’s no secret that you’re building a sluice gate on the banks of the Goldwater River. We’ve all seen the value of water projects. And since the Ant-man tide cleared out the Fishmen on the Chapman riverbanks, we decided to follow the example of Centaur Hills and build a canal on the eastern side of our domain to irrigate and develop farmland and pastures. Right now, we’ve built eleven outposts and one sluice gate on the riverbank, giving us basic control over a fifteen-kilometer stretch.”

“But before we even started on the canal, while we were just starting to dig the first reservoir, the Auguste family came to us. It makes me so mad,” Gillian said, fuming.

Victor thought for a moment and asked, “How long of a canal are you planning to build?”

“The canal will first go north, then east, and finally flow into the Blue Goose Lake watershed. The total projected length is sixty-five kilometers, with seven node reservoirs,” Gillian replied.

“Sixty-five kilometers? That’s no more than four hundred thousand mu of arable land? It’s been four years since the Ant-man plague, and you’re only just starting to dig the reservoirs?” Victor said in disbelief. “This is a losing investment! What are you people really planning?”

The cost of building a sixty-five-kilometer canal and seven node reservoirs, plus the expense of reclaiming the land, would be no less than thirty thousand Gold Sol. But the largest investment wasn’t the wages for laborers; it was the cost of the war to clear out the Fishmen.

The Fishmen could never be completely wiped out, but if their numbers along the riverbanks weren’t controlled, they would eventually tear down the sluice gate. Therefore, the war against them was endless. Every arrow a soldier shot was money, and the wear and tear on military equipment was a huge financial burden. Most importantly, with the domain in a state of war, vassal soldiers on combat duty could not engage in production and were exempt from paying tribute to the family. Meanwhile, the lord had to cover the soldiers’ daily expenses, pay bounties, and provide compensation for injuries and death.

The York family stationed one Knight, three apprentice knights, and six hundred soldiers at their sluice gate, rotating them every five months. Victor also used the riverbank Fishmen as training opponents. Even so, Duke York felt the strain. But the water project in Centaur Hills could add over one hundred million mu of farmland and pasture, making the continuous war against the Fishmen a necessary endeavor. It was just like the Kingdom of Borea, which had been at war with the Fishmen for centuries for the produce of the Seven Great Islands.

Without a massive return, who would ever provoke the Fishmen for no reason?

Earl Chapman was stingy and shrewd; four hundred thousand mu of farmland wasn’t worth subjecting himself to an endless war. For four years, the Chapman family had persisted in clearing out the Fishmen and occupying the riverbanks, yet they hadn’t seized the time to build the canal and artificial lakes.

All investment and no return—that wasn’t Earl Chapman’s style.

Gillian looked at Victor and said, “On the day of the Tournament finals, Grand Duke Williams bet five thousand Gold Sol on eighteen-year-old Hanisi Jorne to win. Lady Katerina bet on James, but you bet one hundred Gold Sol on Hanisi. Because of you and Sophia playing the spoiler, the representatives of the great families all breathed a sigh of relief.”

Victor smiled smugly. “I am the independent lord of Centaur Hills. My betting on Hanisi was just me cooperating with the Regent. How could that be considered playing the spoiler?”

“Mm, you’re the most cunning one,” Gillian said with a smile, then continued, “At that time, everyone else remained silent. Only the representatives of the Joshua and Sorim families made their positions clear to Grand Duke Williams. The Joshua family bet two thousand Gold Sol on Hanisi, siding with the Auguste family, unafraid of incurring the York family’s resentment. House Sorim’s representative, on the other hand, bet one hundred Gold Sol on Hanisi. His action was in line with the York family’s vassal lords, openly mocking Grand Duke Williams.”

“Katerina is Duke Joshua’s legitimate daughter. It would be stranger if the Joshua family didn’t try to curry favor with Aerie Fortress and distance themselves from the York family,” Victor said with a frown. “But for House Sorim to openly express dissatisfaction with the Royal Family… It seems Aerie Fortress has already reached an understanding with your Chapman family. Grand Duke Williams intends to support you in replacing House Sorim as the leader of the southern families. What were the Grand Duke’s specific terms?”

“The cries of the loser go unanswered.” Instead of answering Victor directly, Gillian asked a question of her own. “Do you know who House Sorim’s representative was?”

“Boris Sorim. Fifty-seven years old, an apprentice knight who advanced through a cleansing potion, a scholar noble, son of Marioen Sorim, and grandson of Marquis Sorim,” Victor stated.

Gillian nodded. “Boris is now the first in line for succession in House Sorim. His father, Marioen, passed away four years ago. Marquis Sorim didn’t exactly keep his eldest son’s death a secret, but he tried to play down the impact of the change in succession, not even passing the right of inheritance to his eldest grandson. Now, Marquis Sorim’s children and grandchildren are fighting uncontrollably over the succession. I don’t think Boris will become the Marquess. He might even die an early death.”

“What?” Victor was shocked. “Has House Sorim weakened to such an extent that they can’t even control their internal situation? I recall House Sorim has two Great Knights, and Marquis Sorim himself is a peak Silver Knight…”

Gillian said contemptuously, “Marquis Sorim is already one hundred and three years old. So what if he can resonate with thirty-six elemental nodes? To step into the Gold realm, he faces two challenges: first, communing with the Elemental Sea, and second, surviving the Elemental Sea’s baptism. The former is related to bloodline; the latter tests one’s conviction. With the current state of the Sorim bloodline, the old man has no chance of communing with the Elemental Sea. His only way out now is to undertake the Trial of Life and Death to break open the gate to the Elemental Sea. The stronger the Knight, the more terrifying the opponent in the Trial of Life and Death. For a peak Silver Knight, the trial is often the funeral they prepare for themselves.”

“In two years at most, the old man will have to head to the Northern Wildlands to find an opponent for his trial. And we, the Chapman family, have been waiting for many, many years…” Gillian’s tone was icy, her eyes burning.

Victor mused, “House Sorim still has twenty thousand square kilometers of territory, sturdy castles and fortresses, more than five thousand vassal soldiers, and over thirty thousand militia…”

“They also have many family heirs!” Gillian cut Victor off. “Marquis Sorim had seventeen brothers and twenty-three sisters, most of whom are now deceased, but their descendants are still in Marquess Sorim’s domain. The old man himself started having children at fifteen with seventeen different women, who bore him thirty-six heirs, yet not a single one became a Silver Knight. Now that the old man is dying, what do you think his children and grandchildren will do? What will House Sorim’s vassal lords do?”

“A castle always falls from within, and a family always begins its decline with its bloodline. As early as two hundred years ago, the great families stopped exchanging fostered heirs with the Sorims. They could only absorb bloodlines from minor families, even resorting to inbreeding…” Gillian curled her lip in disdain. “A weak bloodline is a weak bloodline. What’s the use of having so many children? The more they have, the weaker they become, and the weaker they become, the more they have. With a whole crowd of weak-blooded heirs, none can bear the heavy responsibility of protecting the family. They’re all just waiting to divide the inheritance.”

Victor was lost in thought. He had once passed through House Sorim’s Copper City, and the old Marquess, with his gentlemanly conduct—neither obsequious nor arrogant—had left a good impression on him. At the evening banquet, the old Marquess hadn’t surrounded Victor with the family’s noblewomen. In truth, only a Silver-rank female knight would be worthy of a Wind Walk Archer of noble blood. This was likely the last shred of dignity for the old Marquess Sorim.

“It’s useless even if the old man chooses a successor. He has too many descendants, each with a claim to the inheritance, each trying to win over vassal lords and find powerful external support. The splintering of House Sorim is inevitable! Those vassal lords must make plans in advance.”

Gillian said proudly, “Our Chapman family bloodline is noble. We have four Great Knights. My parents are Great Knights, I am a Great Knight, and my uncle DeWitt is a Great Knight. My younger sister and brother have also awakened their Aura. Especially that little fellow Anwen—he resonated with eight elemental nodes at just eleven years old. He’s even more capable than me… just a tiny bit more.”

A flash of insight struck Victor. He realized, “The canal can go west or south, into Marquess Sorim’s domain. House Sorim’s vassal lords are funding your fishmen cleansing and canal construction?”

“Of course! We never do business at a loss!” Gillian’s face lit up with a triumphant smile. “To tell you the truth, for the past four years, several of House Sorim’s vassal lords have been in secret negotiations with us. If they want to rise, they must integrate into the Chapman family’s bloodline, and we will use the canal to swallow a third of the marquessate and eventually take control of Copper City.”

Victor paced back and forth a couple of times, his hands clasped behind his back. “So, whoever ascends to the Marquess’s throne now will be murdered. After the heir is dead, a puppet supported by those vassal lords will occupy Copper City in the name of self-preservation, then demand independence and conveniently join the Chapman family. Because the stakes were so high, you didn’t breathe a word, but you couldn’t hide it from Aerie Fortress’s spies.”

“No wonder House Sorim’s representative openly declared his opposition to Grand Duke Williams. Boris was asking the York family for help.”

The Young Lady Chapman stated firmly, “The York family will not interfere in the southern territories. Doing so would cause a backlash from all the great families.” After a pause, she added, “In fact, the southern lords all secretly support our Chapman family. Gambis needs a stable south, and our plan has the tacit approval of Aerie Fortress. If Marquis Sorim fails to advance to Gold Knight, our Chapman family will replace the Sorims and gain a seat in the Senate.”

Victor nodded. “Aerie Fortress doesn’t want the Wellington, Joshua, and York families interfering in the southern territories, so they would naturally support your Chapman family in leading the southern lord coalition. However, Aerie Fortress now has an excuse to directly intervene in southern affairs, even including Wildwillow City… This does indeed violate the kingdom’s feudal tradition. No one wants them to do this, but no one can stop them.”

The thought of Wildwillow City teeming with spies from Aerie Fortress gave Victor a massive headache, but he was powerless to do anything about it.

Gillian was silent for a moment before standing up to complain, “I really don’t understand why the Pontiff had to be so alarmist.”

“You also think his words were alarmist?” Victor asked.

“Hmph! If there really were a disaster, the Pontiff should use the Great Divination, not spout baseless speculation!”

Connecting Sophia’s experience in the Kingdom of Borea with Sylvia’s judgment, Victor roughly understood the Pontiff’s intentions. He shook his head and sighed, “Using an unknown disaster to push the human kingdoms from internal conflict to external expansion… this is likely the Pontiff’s true intention. Grand Duke Williams is just going with the flow. The affairs of Gambis’s southern lords are nothing to His Holiness the Pontiff.”

Gillian was a little dejected, but she knew what Victor said was true. In the eyes of the great Pontiff, the competition between the Chapman and Sorim families was not worth mentioning. She said glumly, “Grand Duke Williams sent someone to see my father, and they proposed a marriage alliance. The late King Ryan’s cousin, Great Knight Weigel Auguste, is my proposed marriage partner… Aerie Fortress is demanding that we grant him a fief of four thousand square kilometers around the sluice gate. The Royal Family will help us legally occupy Copper City and grant my father the title of hereditary duke…”

“The terms are very generous. You should just accept,” Victor said, stroking his chin.

“Generous, my ass!” Gillian raged. “We rely on our bloodline and the canal to win the support of the southern lords. If the canal and the port are all in the hands of the royal family… the Auguste family’s bloodline is indeed nobler than ours. Tell me, who will the southern lords follow? Weigel? Or me?”

Victor frowned. “Then don’t agree to the marriage with the Royal Family. It would be better to just cede the territory directly to the Auguste family…”

“How is that possible!” Gillian glared at Victor, fuming. “Ceding territory for no reason at all? What about our Chapman family’s reputation? What right does a family that bows and scrapes to the Royal Family have to lead the southern lords?”

Victor’s face became as placid as still water, his eyes flickering. Gillian immediately grew wary. She leaned close to her lover’s ear and said in a tone that was half-coaxing and half-threatening, “Darling, rest assured, I won’t sleep with him… and you’d better not help House Sorim, or else… hmph!”

This was precisely what infuriated Victor the most.

The Chapman family’s bloodline was very special: the male Knights had an affinity for the water element, while the female Knights had an affinity for the earth element. This bloodline had its pros and cons. Gillian was limited by her innate condition, making her less powerful than a male Great Knight, but the risk of mutual interference with a spouse of the same element was also smaller. Earl Chapman and his wife were both Great Knights with water affinity, and they had consecutively given birth to three children, something almost unimaginable for a typical Great Knight couple.

A bloodline that was fertile but not powerful enough was an awkward position to be in. The Chapman family had never produced a Gold Knight, and they had always hoped to acquire a stronger bloodline. The Auguste family had seized on Earl Chapman’s weakness. The so-called resistance was likely just Gillian’s personal will.

Gillian was currently bound by her emotions, but Victor doubted how long she could hold out.

Unless… the Auguste family and the York family form a marriage alliance! If the Augustes and Yorks joined forces, Earl Chapman would have no choice but to meekly cede the territory. And what do I care about the Chapman family’s reputation? All I want is Gillian. However, knowing Sylvia’s assertive nature, even if the York family were to marry into the Royal Family, a noblewoman from their family would have to be the Queen. Little Anna’s status, talent, and age would be a fitting match for Prince Edward. But Edward is already engaged to Margaret of the Wellington family. For Aerie Fortress to go back on their word would be tantamount to submitting to the York family… Sylvia snatching one Queen and then forcing the Royal Family to marry a York noblewoman… That would be too humiliating! Besides, the Auguste family is stronger than the York family. They must suppress the Yorks to display their power to the other lords; otherwise, the York family’s power and influence would expand rapidly, causing a chain reaction. No wonder King Ryan would rather use military force to subdue the York family than form a marriage alliance with them.

A soft yet firm force pulled Victor into a supple embrace. Gillian wrapped her arms around him, licked her full lips, and said in a coquettish voice, “Sleeping with the Queen of Roses’ man in Rose Manor… the thought alone excites me.”

Victor was furious. “Excited?” he sneered. “Let’s see how I deal with you!”

Sylvia lay on her comfortable, large bed, her mind empty of thought. A fluctuation of the water element from the courtyard roused her from the deepest of slumbers.

Opening her bright eyes, Sylvia did not summon an attendant. She rose on her own, walked to the window, and leaped lightly, landing silently on the lawn outside. Barefoot, she walked with the grace of flowing clouds and moving water toward the depths of the courtyard.

Moonlight, like water, spilled across the courtyard. A young girl with a slender figure sat on a hanging chair, swinging back and forth. Her platinum-blonde hair fluttered in the breeze, and her delicate, small face was turned up to the moonlight, looking pure and beautiful, like an elf.

“Sylvia, are you satisfied with the gift I sent you?”

Sylvia put a hand to her forehead and sighed helplessly, “Roland, you are the most infuriating…”

Chapter 356: Roland’s Story

When a Knight’s mind and body become one, allowing them to step into the extraordinary realm, their temperament manifests outwardly, their appearance a reflection of their innermost self. Whether they are steadfast, wise, carefree, reserved, dignified, boorish, or wild, each possesses a distinct quality. Upon reaching the Gold rank, a Knight’s apparent age will even shift with their state of mind.

Roland reached the pinnacle of her power before the age of twenty and was now thirty-one. She had endured all manner of conspiracies and schemes, suffered the pain of losing both her parents, defeated the renowned Unicorn Knights, personally slain a High-ranked Knight, and ordered the massacre of vassals and soldiers in the territory of the Randt Empire. She had even been responsible for many incidents that were at once baffling and exasperating. Yet, she always maintained the appearance of a young girl—vibrant, pure, and untainted. Her joys and sorrows were plain to see on her face, like a stream so clear one could see straight to the bottom.

Sylvia, however, saw Roland as someone as fickle and elusive as the clouds in the sky. As a Spirit Knight who commanded the four great elements, she detested unpredictable people, be they opponents or allies.

Roland was all three.

No one could ignore the influence of a Gold Knight, especially when Roland commanded the most powerful armed forces in the Kingdom of Gambia. At her command, all the great lords, including Sylvia, had to answer her call to war. It could be said that Roland was one of the most powerful figures of the age. Yet, Roland’s mind was pure, her thoughts nimble and ethereal. No one ever knew what she would do next. And her seemingly casual actions, much like her Transcendent sword skills, were often impossible to defend against.

Sylvia could support Williams ascending to the throne, or even Prince Edward, but she hoped for anyone but Roland Auguste to become the sovereign of Gambia. In Sylvia’s eyes, Princess Royal Roland was a formidable and troublesome figure.

And now, that great trouble had come knocking…

Aerie Fortress’s spies had intercepted Sophia’s hidden fortune—a sum exceeding four million Gold Sols.

The Gambis royal court’s annual revenue was only about one and a half million Gold Sols, with no more than four hundred thousand remaining after all expenditures. If the August family had obtained that four million Gold Sols, they could have solved a great many problems. However, Roland had ordered the Night Owl to forgo the confiscation of the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild’s hidden gold, allowing Sophia to transfer the money to the Centaur Hills, where it now sat in the Treasury of Rose Manor.

Sylvia could not fathom Roland’s intentions, nor was she prepared to accept this favor.

“Roland, that money belongs to Sophia. You can’t count it as a gift to me.” Sylvia paused, then added, “I need to build a port, and Williams needs to build a port. It’s not certain who Sophia will invest her money with.”

“Whether you take this massive fortune for yourself or let Sophia manage it, I don’t care. In any case, you have an opportunity now, an opportunity I gave you.” Roland pouted and said, “Besides, my gift to you wasn’t the four million Gold Sols, but Sophia herself.”

“I secretly told Sophia to hurry up and move her gold to the Centaur Hills, or else Catherine would confiscate every last coin. Sophia was terrified. After that incident, where else could she turn for shelter but to you? Can she still trust Aerie Fortress? Shouldn’t you be thanking me?” Roland said with a crafty smile.

Sophia had no loyalty to the Royal Family, and Aerie Fortress had no obligation to protect her. In fact, taking in Sophia would mean bearing pressure from the Radiant Knights. Keeping the money but not the person would have been in the August family’s best interests.

Seeing Roland’s smug look, Sylvia found herself with no energy left to argue. She simply said, her face expressionless, “My thanks to you….”

“If you want to thank me, then answer a question for me!” Roland pressed the tips of her toes to the lawn, stopping the swing, and asked anxiously.

“…” Sylvia sighed silently, her voice tinged with resignation. “Go on, ask.”

“Who could make a Spirit Knight flee in such a panic, abandon a territory her family has managed for generations, and lead her people on a Westward Migration to carve out a new domain?” Roland’s eyes widened, fixing on Sylvia’s face as she enunciated each word. “Neowist alone couldn’t have made you retreat. There must have been two of them… or maybe three.”

Sylvia brushed back her long, flowing hair and sat on the swing next to Roland, beginning to sway gently. She sighed softly. “Roland, force can’t solve every problem… There are some things even I am powerless against.” She turned her head and asked, “How did you figure it out?”

“It’s not that people couldn’t figure it out, but that they didn’t dare to. And even if they did, they wouldn’t dare to speak of it,” Roland said, shaking her head. With a push of her foot, the swing began to move again. “Constantine told me a story. Let me tell you one as well…”

“Fifteen hundred years ago, the Radiant Knights seized an opportunity to drive the Pope’s lineage from the throne of power. The Paladin families took control of the Church, but one family remained steadfastly loyal to the Pope: the royal family of the Theocracy of Ayr—the Nachtigals.”

“The six great Paladin families had grasped the divine authority of the Church, but they were not content. They then reached their hands toward secular power. Seven hundred years ago, two legendary paladins ambushed the emperor of the Randt Empire. Though they lost their holy power as a result, they used their status as Gold Knights to control the Feliett family, eventually unifying the north and founding the Sasan Empire.”

“With the establishment of a secular regime, the power and influence of the Paladin families grew even greater. Whoever they disliked, they would have the religious inquisition make trouble for them. If clergy members lost their divine arts as a result, they would join the Feliett family, further strengthening their secular power.”

“The Paladins’ unscrupulously brazen conduct drew widespread condemnation. The lords all felt insecure, especially the secular lords of the Sasan Empire, who suffered greatly. And so, Nachtigal joined forces with the Sasan Empire’s Baselius family and secretly called upon the Knight-Nobles and common clergy to launch a counterattack—the Holy City Uprising of three hundred years ago.”

Roland said lazily, “Our August family participated in that event. Due to my ancestor’s oath of secrecy, I can’t reveal the specific details. In short, the leaders of the six great Paladin families were almost caught all in one net. In the end, they signed the New Covenant of Light, promising to no longer abuse the Inquisition’s law enforcement authority. The Spire Faction was also established as a result of this.”

Sylvia nodded. “Even if you didn’t tell me, I could have guessed. Although the Radiant Knights are arrogant and domineering, they successfully held back the beastmen invasions and even seemed capable of launching a counteroffensive into the Northern Wildlands. Under such circumstances, no one wanted to see the Pope’s lineage return to power. At the most critical moment, the secular lords and common clergy simultaneously abandoned the Pope and Nachtigal. They reached an agreement with the Radiant Knights. The Papal Curia and the Monastery Council of Elders broke free from the Radiant Knights’ control, gaining the rights to proselytize, collect tithes, distribute relief aid, and train clergy, while also supervising the Radiant Knights’ adherence to the New Covenant of Light.”

“On the other hand, the six great Paladin families had completed their consolidation of the Sasan Empire, and their internal conflicts had become more prominent. Although the Sasan Imperial Family was connected by blood to the six Paladin families, the status of secular knights and Paladins was worlds apart, and no Paladin was willing to give up the power of divine arts. None of the six Paladin families wanted their descendants to degenerate into secular knights, so there was undoubtedly no shortage of overt and covert struggles among them.”

“The New Covenant of Light clearly stipulates a separation of powers: divine authority belongs to divine authority, and secular to secular. The Inquisition only has the power to exile or imprison Knight-Nobles, not to execute them. This served the interests of the secular lords and also met the practical needs of the Radiant Knights. After all, the Feliett family had its own line of succession, but their Bloodline was forever marked by the Paladin families, and they remained the most steadfast Supporters of the Radiant Knights.”

“The Radiant Knights no longer used divine authority to interfere in secular politics, the Knight-Lords allowed the Feliett family to participate in secular conflicts, and the common clergy gained a voice. Other than the Pope and Nachtigal, there were no losers in the Holy City Uprising.”

Roland looked at her with an expression of pure admiration. “As expected of the Spirit Knight I so admire. You’ve hit the nail on the head with everything.”

“Everything follows a pattern…” Sylvia said faintly, then added in exasperation, “Except for you!”

“Is that a compliment?” Roland lowered her head, looking pleased.

“Hmph!”

The two most famous female knights of the era fell silent, gently swinging in the moonlight like estranged sisters.

After a moment, Roland broke the tranquil atmosphere. “Nachtigal and the Pope were furious. They realized they could no longer defeat the Radiant Knights through divine authority alone, so they emulated their rivals and turned their sights to secular power. As king, Nachtigal announced that the Kingdom of Ayr would join the Randt Empire. The imperial royal family was the very target they chose to support, and the Neowist family was a victim of the Radiant Knights’ own efforts to prop up secular power. Now, my father, Ryan Auguste, has also become a victim of the Pope’s scheme to back a secular power!”

Sylvia was silent for a long time before she said, “Roland, you have no proof!”

“You don’t need evidence to tell a story.” Roland looked back with a smile, calm and nonchalant. “Back then, the old Duke of York kept your matters a secret. Very few within the York family even knew you were a Spirit Knight.”

“Before I reached the pinnacle, it was to protect me. After I became a Gold Knight, I needed time to free myself from the influence of the Elemental Sea,” Sylvia said flatly.

“I was still young then, and I’m not sure what Ryan would have done had he known your identity beforehand. If I were king, I would never stifle a Spirit Knight, and I believe my father wouldn’t have either,” Roland said with a shrug, her face a mask of innocence.

Sylvia shook her head and chuckled. “I believe you, but I wasn’t willing to take the risk.”

“In any case, not many people knew your true identity. At the time, we in Gambia were strong in arms while the Dodor Kingdom was in decline. It just so happened that the Forest Centaurs were migrating, so Gambia had no threats to its rear, and the Centaur Hills were rich with refined iron ore. My father was ambitious. He wanted to use the awe-inspiring might of a Spirit Knight to annex the Dodor Kingdom in one fell swoop, before the people of Dodor could contest the Centaur Hills with us.”

“And at that critical juncture, the Sasan Empire launched a major invasion to the south. All eleven of their Gold Knights were mobilized, and Dodor’s Whitewater Fortress was in grave danger. Left with no choice, old Goron and you led an army to support the Dodor Kingdom. It was only then that I learned we had a Spirit Knight hidden away in Gambia. Your awe-inspiring might as you suppressed all rivals… I truly admired and envied you so much. I trained relentlessly with you as my role model, and five years later, I too became a Gold Knight,” Roland said, her eyes shining.

A faint smile touched Sylvia’s lips, but she sighed. “My identity was also exposed. In the years that followed, things became a mess.”

Roland nodded. “The Sassans’ green wheat filled the granaries of Dodor and Naville, yet they reduced Gambia’s share of the green wheat trade. Naville and Dodor formed a secret alliance to oppose us. Father had no choice but to focus on developing the Centaur Hills, and he also built Black Fortress. A few years later, the outer lords of your York family began to harass the outer lords of the Joshua family. We decided to first curb the York family’s arrogance by establishing the three eastern provinces and tossing all those restless independent lords to those three unlucky souls. Father told me he had communicated with you in secret, and that you had agreed!”

“That’s right,” Sylvia admitted frankly. “At that time, the old Duke had just died, and I hadn’t finished reorganizing the family. Those bastards already dared to use my name to seek their own advantage. What use did I have for them? Ryan promised me an Enclave of thirty thousand square kilometers in the Centaur Hills…” As she spoke, Sylvia gave Roland a deep look. “Most importantly, while I could make Gold Knights hesitate, I couldn’t handle a thousand Swift Dragon Knights.”

“Hehe, about that…” Roland gave a dry laugh and said, “My father only brought one hundred and twenty Swift Dragon Knights with him to the east as a show of good faith, but he was ambushed by Neowist and Adrian, with over four hundred Unicorn Knights in total. He suspected that you had colluded with Neowist.”

“And I suspected that Ryan had conspired with Neowist to lure me into a trap. That’s why I held my ground and refused to let the Swift Dragon Knights enter the city. I never expected that Neowist would challenge Ryan to a knight’s duel. By the time Ryan died a hero’s death and the Swift Dragon Knights were massacred, it was too late,” Sylvia recalled the scene, shaking her head with a sigh.

“I killed eighty-four Unicorn Knights, but it’s a pity I couldn’t finish off Adrian.” Roland shook her head in frustration. “Countless coincidences, countless necessities, all leading to the situation today. I find it hard to imagine that the schemes and strategies of mortals could account for everyone and still be so flawless.”

“Old Goron told me that when you displayed the power of a Spirit Knight, the Sasan Empire’s Gold Knights were utterly shocked, and it didn’t seem feigned! Sylvia, I’m begging you, tell me, is that what happened?” Roland implored pitifully.

“Yes.” Sylvia nodded slightly and said slowly, “I could clearly sense that they had no prior knowledge, including the Feliett Emperor.”

“I knew I guessed right!” Roland waved a small, pale fist in excitement. “When the Feliett family put out rumors about wanting to propose marriage to me, I wove a story.”

“The story goes like this: The Radiant Knights detected the quiet rise of a Centaur clan in the Northern Wildlands, one that could potentially swallow the other beastmen clans and form a Centaur Khanate. They had to use all their strength to prevent the birth of this Centaur Khanate, otherwise, the Sasan Empire would lose its eastern territories. But before striking the Centaur clan, the Sassans worried that Dodor would take the opportunity to seize the holy cities on the plains. A small-scale war wouldn’t frighten the people of Dodor, while a large-scale war would not only consume the Empire’s military strength but also waste precious time, making it difficult to stop the rise of the Centaur Khanate.”

“So, they asked the Pope to perform the Great Divination.”

“It is said that the Great Divination can glimpse the future and even has the power to change destiny. Although the Pope could perform it, how could a Legendary Priest compare to a Saint-rank Priest? The future of humanity was at stake, so just to be safe, Clement requested that the Pope personally perform the Great Divination. The Pope’s opportunity had arrived.”

“And only the Pope’s Great Divination could possibly glimpse the secret of a Spirit Knight and alter the course of fate, creating one coincidence after another. So, while they had the Radiant Knights deal with the Centaur clan, they secretly guided the August family into a rift with you. The York family watched as their liege lord died in battle. How could you explain that? What position would that put you in? If you chose to side with Neowist, with three great knights gathered under the Pope’s banner, the restoration of the Randt Empire would be just around the corner. Divine authority would belong to divine authority, and the secular to the secular. Once the Feliett family surrendered to the Randt Empire, the Radiant Knights would have no choice but to obediently hand over the Golden Horn.”

“You were the Pope’s target all along. My father was just a sacrifice!”

Sylvia’s expression remained unchanged as she listened quietly.

Not seeing the shocked expression she expected on Sylvia’s face, Roland pouted and continued, “The Pope didn’t expect you to choose to migrate to the Centaur Hills instead of joining his ranks. It seems the Great Divination has its limits… or perhaps the Radiant Knights secretly approached you and made you change your mind. The Sasan Empire spread rumors of proposing to me mainly to ally with Gambia and prevent Neowist from restoring the Randt Empire. If I agreed, Gambia could tie down both the Dodor Kingdom and the Randt Empire’s territory. If I refused, I would have to marry a secular lord and ascend the throne. As long as Gambia’s political situation was stable and you stood on Gambia’s side, Neowist wouldn’t stand a chance—after all, we in Gambia have over a thousand Swift Dragon Knights. The reason the Sasan Empire dared to propose a marriage alliance with me is because they never plotted my father’s murder.”

Sylvia said in a low voice, “No one understands the Elemental Sea more profoundly than I do. The past cannot be changed, the future is a chaotic void, and we can only grasp the present. The workings of the Elemental Sea represent the laws and principles of the world. Who could transcend the Elemental Sea and completely manipulate the course of destiny? If the Great Divination were truly omnipotent, why would the first Pope have needed to establish the Radiant Code? And how could the Pope of fifteen hundred years ago have died at the hands of an Archwizard?”

“Roland, judging the truth based on speculation is like watching shadows through a curtain. Behind the curtain might be a person, or it might just be a puppet. I don’t know if the mastermind behind the scenes is the Pope, and I don’t care. The Radiant Knights never approached me. Moving my family to the Centaur Hills was my own choice…”

Sylvia stretched out her hands. An earthy-yellow orb of light condensed in each palm. A stream of brilliance flowed between the two Void Earth Elements. The one on the left gradually grew larger while the one on the right slowly withered, until it was completely absorbed.

“If the Pope, Nachtigal, and Neowist ever dare to appear before me, I can kill all three of them, though I myself would fall in the process. But as I said, force cannot solve all problems. If they hide within their castles or go into hiding, there’s nothing I can do. I also have a fatal flaw: a Spirit Knight cannot bear children. My Bloodline is worthless. Regardless of whether I pledge loyalty to Neowist, the members of the York family would be drawn to the bloodlines of Neowist and Nachtigal. The family would crumble from within. What could I do? The only way was to lead the entire clan in a Westward Migration to preserve our independence, so that the York family’s legacy could continue.” Crushing the Void Earth Element in her left hand, which dissolved into a shower of dust, Sylvia said, “You just said Ryan died because of me. Do you know how Ryan died?”

Roland said in a low voice, “Father overused his Transcendent combat skill and heavily wounded Neowist. He too was tainted and assimilated by the Elemental Sea.”

“Neowist never intended to kill Ryan. He told Ryan to kneel and perform the ritual of greeting an emperor, then cede the three eastern provinces. But Ryan chose to fight to the death.” Sylvia’s voice was cold. “The Neowist family was originally the liege lord of the three kingdoms. If Ryan were a king, what would it matter if he knelt and yielded to his liege lord? If he were a Ranger, what reason would he have to fight to the death for Gambia and never retreat? A king who was not a king, a Ranger who was not a Ranger—that was the reason for Ryan’s death.”

Roland wiped at her tears, choking back sobs. “My father, Ryan… he was my father, my hero…”

“A Gold Knight, still crying.”

“I’ll cry if I want to and laugh if I want to,” Roland retorted angrily.

Sylvia advised her, “Roland, don’t think about revenge. If it was a war, how many people from the Randt Empire did you kill? Gambia didn’t come out at a disadvantage. If it was a Ranger’s matter, even if you advance to Legendary rank, you can’t defeat Neowist. He’s a Legendary Knight in a Savage state, and his powerful Physique can contain more elements. If you mobilize Gambia’s war machine, don’t forget that Nachtigal is standing behind Neowist. Besides their Sacred Warriors, Ayr has a large number of elite soldiers. And besides, I’m baffled as to how the August family has so many High-ranked Knights and Swift Dragon Knights?”

“Our Bloodline is noble, and the effects of our cleansing potions are exceptional.”

“And Catherine? She was able to advance to High-ranked Knight. Do you dare say there aren’t Wizards behind Aerie Fortress? Do you really think Nachtigal can’t mobilize his Sacred Warriors?” Sylvia said faintly.

“Hmm… I’m not planning revenge, but you just said the future is a bastard, and no one knows what will happen.” Roland shook her head, her tears turning to a smile. “I have a way to make sure Neowist can’t sleep at night.”

“Roland, I detest you most of all,” Sylvia said, a headache coming on. “What are you really planning to do?”

“I’m not telling… alright, the truth is, I don’t even know myself.” Roland’s eyes darted around. “It seems my student has fixed your fatal flaw. His Bloodline can unite the members of the York family.”

“You were the ones who gave up on Victor. Don’t expect me to thank you for it,” Sylvia said, watching Roland warily. Her voice was laced with killing intent. “If anyone dares to have any designs on Victor, I’ll make sure they never wake up again.”

“Then I’m relieved.” Roland patted her ample chest and stood up, hopping onto the enclosure wall. She sat on top of it, waving a cheerful goodbye. “I’m going back to sleep. I have to visit my student’s domain tomorrow. Good night, Sylvia.”

Sylvia pondered for a long time, then shook her head and muttered, “Such a strange princess…”

Chapter 357: Sunrise on the Goldwater River

To the east of the great river, the sun rose slowly, its brilliant morning glow plating the vast, glass-like surface of the water with a layer of magnificent golden light.

A gentle morning breeze rippled the water. Dark green currents continuously crashed against the limestone foundations, turning into white foam, swirling and bubbling, only to vanish without a trace in an instant, leaving behind nothing but the ceaseless sound of the waves.

The sluice gate stood like a small castle on the banks of the Goldwater River. Water passed through its opening and gushed along the green-brick channel toward the distant Rose Lake.

Victor and his party stood on the ramparts, admiring the spectacular sunrise over the Goldwater River.

“The Bolun River in the north is also a famous great river, but compared to the Goldwater River, it’s like a ditch,” Ange Diclier—princess of the Sasan Empire, legitimate daughter of the Moon Bear family, and future mistress of Bronze-Halberd City—remarked with emotion.

Duke Monstock nodded in agreement. “The Goldwater River is majestic, vast, and timeless. It divides the north from the south; truly worthy of being called the greatest river in the world.”

Grand Duke Williams drew his intense gaze back from the river’s southern bank and said with a smile, “Although this is not my first time seeing the Goldwater River up close, its magnificence stuns me every time.”

Marquess Faroul of the Kingdom of Naville was dismissive of the Sasan Empire emissary’s awe for the Goldwater River. To him, they were clueless northerners, and the water project was the key. He gave Sylvia a slight bow and said, “Your esteemed Highness, since ancient times, rivers have only ever flowed into the Goldwater River. No one has ever managed to divert its waters into human territory. You and your family have created a miracle. On behalf of the Royal Family of Naville, I offer you my most sincere congratulations.”

A smile touched Sylvia’s lips. She looped her arm through Victor’s and said elegantly, “This is all my love’s doing.”

“My student, you truly haven’t disappointed your tutor. Well done!” Roland’s platinum-blond hair stirred in the morning light. She clapped Victor on the shoulder, her face beaming with extraordinary pride.

Twelve days ago, the envoys’ convoy had departed from Goldwater City, arriving at Laketon in the Randell Fief last night. After a short rest, they had rushed to the sluice gate without pause to watch the sunrise over the Goldwater River. Along the way, the party had traveled along the embankment of the main canal, witnessing with their own eyes the man-made main canal, four to five meters wide; the node reservoirs, each a hundred mu in size; and the main sluice gate, which was comparable to a castle.

Although the Church had long been promoting the water project and the new agropastoral system to the lords of various lands, most of them remained skeptical about the project in the Centaur Hills. In their view, digging a canal over a thousand kilometers long was simply an inconceivable undertaking. The Goldwater River was low-lying, gathering the waters of a hundred rivers. To draw water from it for irrigation, a thousand-kilometer-long man-made channel would require a drop in elevation of at least a hundred meters.

How much manpower and resources would that consume? How much time would it take to complete?

Yet the proof was right before their eyes. The Randell Fief had built nearly one hundred and ten kilometers of the man-made channel in just over two years, and the water was already flowing. A constant stream of river water poured into the Randall family’s territory, filling the large and small node reservoirs before flowing back into the Silvermoon River through auxiliary canals. Disregarding the auxiliary canals, the node reservoirs, the stream reservoirs, and the agriculture, forestry, fishery, and animal husbandry driven by the terraced fields, this main canal alone could irrigate about six hundred thousand mu of farmland for the Randell Fief, effectively doubling their arable land.

No one could ignore the enormous benefits brought by the water project and the new agro-husbandry. The technology behind this project represented a whole new world order.

Among the envoys from the various kingdoms, Marquess Faroul of the Kingdom of Naville was the most eager to import the water project technology.

Naville was a mountainous country, rich in mineral resources but relatively limited in farmland and pastures. However, to say that it couldn’t be self-sufficient in food was an overstatement, as Naville’s population was small to begin with, and sixty percent of them were Mountain folk.

The Mountain folk had lived in the inconveniently located mountain forests for generations, surviving by hunting and gathering. Though they submitted to the rule of their lords and considered themselves subjects of Naville, they were, in fact, in a semi-autonomous state, and only a small fraction of them would ever answer a lord’s summons. The nobles and clergy of Naville needed these Mountain folk to put pressure on the monsters’ living spaces, so they rarely demanded corvée labor from them.

Of the remaining forty percent of the population, half were refugee miners. Naville’s true subjects made up only twenty percent of the nation’s total population, a ratio far lower than that of subjects to refugees in other kingdoms.

The limited population base led to a low degree of social division of labor. The Kingdom of Naville’s handicraft and military-industrial sectors were extremely underdeveloped, relying on imports for daily necessities and military equipment. The Navillians sold minerals to the people of Dodor and then purchased weapons and armor from them—a bitter pill that only they could taste.

Fortunately, the Giantstone Mountains were perilous and easy to defend, allowing Naville to fend off the beastmen of the Northern Wildlands with only a small number of elite soldiers. But the minerals would one day run out. When that day came, what difference would there be between the knight-nobles of Naville and fallen nobles?

The Naville Royal Family was relatively close to the Church’s Curia. Pope Clement had secretly advised the King of Naville that the emergence of the new agro-husbandry and water project would push human kingdoms to expand outward. If Naville missed the opportunity to develop the Northern Wildlands, it would surely collapse and be unable to recover.

The Navillians were well aware of the Sasan Empire’s actions in the Northern Wildlands. They planned to wait for the Radiant Knights and the Empire’s army to crack the toughest nuts before sending their own troops from Giantstone Fortress to claim a large swath of territory.

The problem was Naville’s population was too small. With what would they claim the land?

The Royal Family’s think tank believed that they must build a large-scale water project at all costs before other powers could react. This was not just for food and arable land, but to attract refugee laborers. A massive construction project in itself served to turn refugees into subjects. If they waited until other kingdoms began their own water projects, the cost of recruiting refugee labor for Naville would become much higher.

Unlike the political landscape of other kingdoms, Naville’s lords all resided in the Royal Capital, making it easy for them to reach a consensus: led by the Royal Family, they would raise fifteen million Gold Sols, recruit four hundred thousand refugees through the Kingdom of Sus, import grain from the Sasan Empire, and construct a large-scale water project system across the entire country while promoting the new agro-husbandry.

But another problem arose. The combination of sluice gates, canals, and reservoirs seemed simple, but forming a cohesive system was a highly complex matter, involving brand new fields of Hydrology, Geography, and Topographical Surveying. The Church’s priests had not yet fully mastered this new knowledge; even the founder of these new disciplines—Master Edwin—was still in a phase of exploration and self-improvement.

Clement proposed a solution: the Kingdom of Naville would provide the funding, and the Ivory Sanctum and the Silver Spire would join forces to test and build the water project system together, thereby hastening the maturation of the three new disciplines.

The key to this plan still lay with the York family’s attitude. Marquess Faroul bore the mission of inviting Master Edwin to visit Naville, and he was already prepared to be fleeced by Sylvia. To his surprise, Sylvia readily agreed to Naville’s request without making excessive demands, only asking that Naville give the Centaur Hills some leeway in the future trade of refined iron and iron ore.

To be honest, Faroul didn’t quite believe that such an ingenious water irrigation system was Victor’s masterpiece, but since Sylvia wanted to broadcast her paramour’s fame, what was the harm in playing along?

“Your Excellency Randall, your talent is truly breathtaking,” the Gold Knight of Naville said, lavishing his praise.

Marquess Faroul could never have known that Victor possessed a miraculous extraordinary ability like the X-3. If Master Edwin wanted to perfect his new disciplines, he would have to listen to Victor’s advice. Perhaps before long, maps detailing the Kingdom of Naville’s geography, hydrology, monster populations, and deposits of Thorium and fire element crystals would all appear in the study of Silver Moon Manor.

With this, Victor could properly plan out the Golden Company’s development strategy in the Kingdom of Naville.

“I merely proposed an idea by chance. The perfection and implementation of the water project were accomplished through the joint efforts of Master Edwin and the scholar-priests of the Church,” he said modestly.

“Victor, the giant brick kiln was Anthony’s invention, but the strategy of funding the canals with the sale of bricks was your masterpiece,” Grand Duke Williams said with a smile.

Fame was an intangible form of wealth, as well as a real source of influence. Setting other things aside, one glance at Natalya’s tender and affectionate eyes was enough to know that Sophia’s guardian knight was utterly devoted to her master. By spreading Victor’s fame, Sylvia was helping him build prestige among the knights of the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild, ensuring the liege-vassal relationship of House of Randell remained unchanged.

This point was crucial!

The strategy of digging clay for the canals to make bricks, then selling those bricks to fund the canals, was arguably the masterstroke of the entire water project. Even Sophia couldn’t help but show a look of amazement.

I can understand Sylvia promoting my reputation, but why is Grand Duke Williams also fanning the flames? Victor wondered secretly. He failed to see that his position was unique, holding deep significance in the eyes of the major powers of Gambis.

Victor stood with Sylvia on his right and Princess Royal Roland on his left. He was both Sylvia’s lover and an attendant from Aerie Fortress. Sylvia’s insistence on maintaining the House of Randell’s status as an independent lord was likely a gesture of goodwill toward Aerie Fortress. Grand Duke Williams, by helping Sylvia promote Victor’s name, was reciprocating the York family’s goodwill. Victor had become the link between the Centaur Hills and Aerie Fortress. It seems the tone has been set. While building a port and expanding south will cause some friction, it won’t affect the bigger picture of joint development… the heirs of the great families thought in unison.

Compared to the water project, the lords of Gambis were more enthusiastic about expanding into the Southern Continent.

Naville’s lands were poor and its population limited. The lords entrusted their fiefs to stewards and priests while they lived in the bustling Royal Capital. The Naville Royal Family’s influence over its lords was unimaginably strong, even able to unify the price of minerals. If the lords of Naville couldn’t rally around their king, their resources would have long been devoured by outside forces, leaving not even scraps. When the King of Naville wanted to build a large-scale water project, no lord would object.

In Gambis, local powers were strong. If Aerie Fortress wanted to build a canal that crossed various fiefs, the Senate could debate it for centuries without a result. Rather than wrangling over water projects, it was better to focus their energy on expanding into the Southern Continent, which was in the common interest of all Gambis lords.

“The Fishmen on these tidal flats have been cleared out.” Grand Duke Williams leaned against an arrow slit in the parapet, his voice full of spirit. “In a few more years, we can help our barbarian friends cross the river from here, and take in the scenery of the Southern Continent while we’re at it.”

On the tidal flats, there was no sign of Fishmen, only a series of outposts and low walls. The outposts were about fourteen meters high, with foundations of green brick topped by wooden arrow towers that could accommodate three archers at once. Each tower was no more than one hundred meters from the next, providing overlapping cover with no blind spots for shooting. The low walls were also built of green brick, reinforced on the outside with hemlock logs. Though simple, they effectively restricted the Fishmen’s range of movement.

This system of outposts, arrow towers, and low walls was precisely the Borean’s standard defense against Fishmen on riverbanks.

Victor and Nicole had spent more than four years establishing actual control over a stretch of the riverbank four kilometers long and eight hundred meters deep near the sluice gate. Relying on this simple yet effective anti-fishman wall, it would be no trouble at all for the York family to build a port.

Strange… Isn’t Grand Duke Williams supposed to build a port in the Chapman territory? What does he mean by this?

Victor’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. Just as he was trying to make sense of Williams’s words, a sudden, soft laugh came from among the envoys of the various kingdoms.

“Your Highness Williams, forgive my frankness, but building a port on the banks of the Goldwater River is no easy task. Our ancestors in the Kingdom of Borea spent eighty years building Red Port. If Gambis wants to construct a port, this anti-fishman wall alone will be almost useless.”

Williams turned his head, a broad smile on his face. “Ah, it is Earl Ashlibor of the Kingdom of Borea. Your family is world-renowned for port construction and shipbuilding. Perhaps you could offer us laymen some guidance?”

Chapter 358: The Fishman War

The Ashlibor family’s position in the Kingdom of Borea was extremely awkward. The family’s ancestor, Baron Ashlibor, had risked his life to reach the Seven Great Islands. Upon his return, he successfully persuaded the five most powerful families of the Eastern Alliance to launch the eighty-year-long Fishman War, which ultimately led to the founding of the Borrey United Kingdom.

The Baron was undoubtedly a founder of the Kingdom of Borea. The Five Great Ruling Families granted him high prestige, investing him as a Court Earl and giving him a hereditary fief, albeit one without autonomous rights. However, none of the five families would intermarry with the House of Ashlibor. For a long time, the Ashlibors were excluded from the Kingdom of Borea’s core of power; their descendants did not even hold seats in the Senate.

Under the combined suppression of the Five Great Families, the Ashlibors became a mascot for the Kingdom of Borea, and no lord was willing to associate with them. Grand Duke Williams’ claim that the Ashlibors excelled at building ports and ships was purely flattery, but the family had witnessed the rise of the Kingdom of Borea. To the lords of Gambis, the name Ashlibor was an authority on port construction.

This generation’s Earl Ashlibor had a high-bridged nose and deep-set eyes, with heavy bags beneath them. At first glance, he looked like a man in his forties. Even his luxurious spider silk shirt could not conceal the air of decay that emanated from within. He bowed slightly and said, “As you wish, Your Highness Williams.”

At that moment, Victor understood that Williams had never given up on the plan to build a port in the Chapman territory. Earl Ashlibor was his backup plan.

Sylvia’s expression was serene, her tranquil beauty undisturbed, as if she had long anticipated this. Sophia, however, shot Earl Ashlibor a cold glance. Regardless, Earl Ashlibor represented the Kingdom of Borea, and the Kingdom of Borea had spared no effort in its attacks against the Stag Merchants’ Guild.

“While the Fishmen are mentally chaotic, they still possess the instinct to pursue what is beneficial and avoid what is harmful.” Earl Ashlibor stepped forward, placing his hands on the ramparts. “The riverbanks occupied by the Fishmen must be areas where they can run freely, so every gentle stretch of riverbank is their natural territory. Based on their instinct for self-preservation, we continuously slaughter them on the riverbanks to create death zones that they learn to fear. Then we build anti-fishman walls to change the environment they run in. Over time, the Fishman population will abandon those riverbanks.”

“I heard that the Ant-man army massacred a large number of Fishmen in the Randell Fief and Chapman territory?” Earl Ashlibor turned to ask Victor.

Victor pondered for a moment before nodding. “Yes. The Randell Fief has a one-hundred-and-twenty-three-kilometer-long shoreline along the river, with fifteen stretches of gentle riverbank. The Ant-man tide devoured countless Fishmen on these banks. The most brutal battle I witnessed took place on the largest riverbank to the east. A Silver-rank Fishman King led over twenty thousand Fishmen, crawling out of the Goldwater River in a dense mass. They crazily attacked the Ant-man swarms on the bank, at one point pushing the battle line two kilometers from the river. All the Ant-man swarms in the Randell Fief were drawn there. Under the swarms’ fearless counterattack, the Fishmen fell into chaos. The Fishman King was killed by the Ant-man chief, and the Fishman army immediately collapsed. Fewer than ten thousand Fishmen managed to escape back into the Goldwater River; the rest became rations for the swarms. After that battle, the Fishman population in the Randell Fief was grievously wounded and no longer had the strength to launch large-scale counteroffensives, though small skirmishes never ceased.”

“I estimate the Ant-man swarms killed at least thirty-five thousand riverbank Fishmen in the Randell Fief.”

“The situation in the Chapman territory was much the same,” Gillian said with her arms crossed, taking pleasure in their misfortune. “Both of their Fishman Kings were killed in battle, and over forty thousand Fishmen were slain, but they also eliminated over ten thousand Ant-men… The riverbank Fishmen are truly feeble, unable to defeat the Ant-man swarms even with superior numbers.” After a pause, she sighed. “To be honest, I don’t think any beastmen could face the never-breaking Ant-man swarms head-on.”

Princess Anqi glanced at Gillian’s impressive chest and remarked, “Miss Chapman, you’ve clearly never seen a Centaur cavalry charge…”

Earl Ashlibor cleared his throat, steering the conversation back on topic. “A riverbank where a Fishman Lord has fallen becomes a natural death zone that the Fishman population fears. Until a new Fishman Lord emerges, their instinct to flee will dominate, and their will to fight will be at its lowest. In a way, you should be thankful the Ant-men took care of the Fishman Lords. Otherwise, you would all have seen the ferocious side of the Fishman race. In fact, luring and killing Fishman Lords has always been an important tactic of ours for seizing tidal flats.”

“Of course, if it were that easy to eliminate the Fishman threat, we Boreans wouldn’t have been pestered by the Fishman race for hundreds of years.” Earl Ashlibor dusted off his hands and said, “Could someone bring a log over here?”

Victor nodded, and an attendant quickly ran down the city wall. A short while later, two brawny guards came up, carrying a thick log.

“Throw the log into the river, fifteen meters out,” the Earl instructed.

The words had barely left his lips when Sophia braced the log with one hand, gave it a gentle lift, and the log, weighing at least fifteen hundred pounds, went flying with a whoosh. It smashed heavily into the river surface fifteen meters away, sending up a huge splash.

She looks as if she doesn’t have a bone in her body, so how can she possess such strength… Victor’s eye twitched.

The log bobbed in the river. An ugly Fishman head poked out of the water. It swam towards the log and climbed onto it, followed by a second, then a third… Soon, the eight-meter-long log was crowded with screeching, shoving Fishmen.

“Fishmen are amphibious beastmen, born with the ability to breathe underwater. The tidal flats are where they sunbathe, rest, and cleanse themselves of Moss Sickness,” Ashlibor said, pointing at the river. “And the entire Goldwater River is their feeding ground, their spawning ground, and their troop transport channel. Who can eliminate the Fishmen underwater?”

“Our Kingdom of Borea was founded over six hundred years ago, and the Fishman War has continued to this day. We have annihilated more than one million Fishmen, but their population has never dwindled. As long as the Goldwater River exists, the Fishmen will not be exterminated. It is precisely because the Fishman War is endless that the Kingdom of Borea has abandoned five ports on the North Shore, now maintaining only four major ports.”

Sylvia said coolly, “I only want to know how the underwater Fishmen will affect the port’s construction.”

Ashlibor bowed to Sylvia respectfully. “My esteemed Lady, a port must have docks and piers. As you just saw, Fishmen like to climb onto floating objects. It’s the same for them with docks and piers. Therefore, the docks and piers in the Kingdom of Borea are built to be extremely sturdy, able to support anti-fishman walls and accommodate patrolling soldiers. We drive many refined iron piles underneath the docks for support. During the pile-driving process, the craftsmen must first build floating bridges. At that time, the craftsmen and soldiers are almost defenseless against surprise attacks from underwater Fishmen.”

Williams asked with a smile, “How did the ancestors of the Kingdom of Borea solve this problem?”

“A full-scale Fishman War!”

Ashlibor turned to answer. “First, lure and kill a Fishman Lord to occupy a riverbank suitable for a port. Then, launch simultaneous attacks on the other Fishman Lords. The Fishman Lords will continuously summon more Fishmen to join the battle, causing the number of underwater Fishmen to plummet. The craftsmen then seize the opportunity to build the piers. The greater the intensity of the war, the less interference the craftsmen face, but the greater the losses the army suffers. This lesson was learned by our ancestors through blood and sacrifice. They endured eighty years of the Fishman War. Only when the blood of warriors and Fishmen had dyed the tidal flats red were the piers and docks of Alexandria Port finally completed.”

“Is ‘war’ the same as ‘battle’?”

Harald, the barbarian Elder, spoke in the halting Common Tongue of humans. He dropped his heavy, refined iron battleaxe, vaulted over the city wall, and slid down to the muddy tidal flat, clinging to the wall with one hand. The legendary barbarian, built like an iron tower, took a few steps on the riverbank, and the mud sank to his knees. He shook his head, then pushed off with his legs. Boom! Huge chunks of mud shot out in all directions, as if a cannonball had blasted a large crater in the riverbank. The barbarian Elder leaped five meters high, caught the edge of the wall with his hands, and nimbly climbed back up, his movements as agile as a monkey’s.

Such terrifying explosive power! What a mighty barbarian Berserker!

Silence fell upon the city wall, and the color drained from everyone’s faces.

Harald: Physique 35, Spirit 32, Perception 22, Life 37. His total Elemental Attribute value had already surpassed that of a Gold Knight manifesting the void element. Harald was not just physically tough with astonishing brute force; his leap demonstrated superb technique in channeling power. His strength was perfectly unified, his muscles and bones like a coiled spring.

An immensely powerful mammoth would be unable to climb out if it got stuck in the mud, yet Harald not only jumped out but also reached a height of five meters. Victor suspected that on flat ground, the old barbarian could leap at least fifteen meters high.

He’s basically a weaker version of the Hulk…

The barbarian Elder climbed back onto the wall. Seeing that he was utterly free of mud, the two Gold Knights, Monstock and Farul, couldn’t help but twitch their lips.

Although Gold Knights could manipulate the power of the Elemental Sea, this extraordinary ability had significant limitations and would not be used lightly unless absolutely necessary. But once Harald activated his rage talent, his strength, defense, and combat instincts would be massively enhanced. As for the barbarians’ chanting, that was an even more mysterious and unfathomable power.

An ordinary Gold Knight facing a barbarian legendary hero would have no other fate than to be utterly crushed.

“Sophia Urus, lure the Fishmen to flat ground, and let us shred these pathetic wretches!” Harald boomed.

Ashlibor swallowed hard and interjected, “Mighty barbarian warrior, the cowardly Fishmen never dare to leave the muddy riverbanks.”

The old barbarian picked up his refined iron battleaxe and grumbled, “Sophia Urus, my kinsmen and I have bodies as heavy as stone. We hate mud. You’ll have to kill the pathetic wretches in the river yourself.”

So the barbarians have weaknesses too… Williams was visibly relieved. He smiled elegantly. “Elder Harald, this is a human war. We can handle it ourselves.” He then turned to Earl Ashlibor and asked, “Your Excellency, how do you think we should fight? How long will it take to build the piers and docks?”

Ashlibor thought for a moment and said, “Attack all the flat riverbanks within Gambis simultaneously. Have the soldiers form long lines and use sharp hooked scythe-spears, with archers arranged behind them… Considering the riverbank area in Gambis is smaller than the Great Borean Bend, I personally estimate this war would need to last for eight years.”

“It seems one or two families alone cannot defeat the riverbank Fishmen. We will need to issue a kingdom-wide Call to Arms and summon all the lords to send their troops,” Roland said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with a sweet smile. “Gambis really does need a full-scale war. Otherwise, the soldiers of the various families will forget how to fight together.”

The Eldest Princess of Gambis had been a war enthusiast since childhood; otherwise, she would not have led the children of the Royal Capital’s nobles to form the Glory Knights.

Williams glanced at Sophia and said, “War costs money, and building a port costs money too… Your Excellency Ashlibor, what do you think of the conditions for building a port here?”

“The environment here is quite good!” Ashlibor, stealing a glance at Sylvia’s expression, continued, “The ports of the Kingdom of Borea are located in the Great Borean Bend, where the Goldwater River meets the sea. The waters there are vast and boundless, and the current is gentle. We can use large sailing ships to travel back and forth within the bend. Although we are only fourteen kilometers from the South Shore here, the current is swift, and giant beasts lurk in the deep waters. Small oared boats would struggle to cross, while large ships are limited by the narrow terrain and current. Unable to use the wind, they can only travel downstream into Lake Fimis near the Randt Empire’s territory before raising their sails to cross the river.”

“It’s a bit far to Lake Fimis from here…” Grand Duke Williams muttered as if to himself.

No one could fail to understand Williams’ meaning, but this was an internal affair of Gambis. The foreign envoys watched with the attitude of enjoying a good show. The Young Lady of Chapman, however, was not pleased. She spoke up, “Wouldn’t it be faster for large ships to cross with oars?”

“The soldiers can’t row the large ships,” Williams said with a faint smile.

“My kinsmen and I can’t swim, but we can row!” Harald interjected.

You may be able to row the large ships, but we need to cross the river frequently too…

The representatives of the great families remained silent. Williams quickly added, “There’s another problem. This location is at the westernmost edge of Gambis’s territory. What about the Fishmen upstream in the Goldwater River? We can’t really go deep into the Great Marsh to clear them out, can we?”

“That’s not impossible,” Roland said with a nod.

Williams: “…”

The representatives of the families: “…”

The foreign envoys: “…”

Victor: “…Er, that won’t be necessary. The Fishmen of the Great Marsh also encountered the Ant-man tide.”

Even if the Ant-men hadn’t attacked the Fishmen in the Great Marsh, my Alchemical Dragon-Lizards and the Lizardmen tribe aren’t just for show, Victor thought to himself.

“What a pity!” Roland shook her head with regret.

“…” Sylvia sighed and said, “It’s meaningless to discuss the port construction now. I request that the Senate convene a war council to resolve all these disputes.”

Williams nodded. “Then after Prince Edward’s coronation is complete, I, in my capacity as Regent of Gambis, will summon the elders of the kingdom to discuss the matter of the Fishman War.”

“Very good!” Sylvia smiled faintly, her eyes shifting. “Baroness Fynikos is hosting a banquet for all of you at the Randall family’s Silver Moon Manor. The scenery at Silver Moon Manor is beautiful, and the cuisine of the House of Randell is without equal in the world. Please, you must all grace us with your presence.”

Chapter 359: The Chess Game (Part 1)

In the dead of night, Sophia sat alone before her dressing table.

House Randell’s evening banquet had ended, and the guests had returned to their respective villas, quite satisfied. As the nominal lady of the house, she naturally resided in the lord’s mansion.

This spacious bedroom was luxurious and comfortable, yet it seemed rather plain compared to the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence. Still, it was just one of over three hundred rooms in the mansion, and the magnificent Silver Moon Manor itself had been nothing but a barren mountain valley four years ago.

Covering over six thousand mu, Silver Moon Manor was nestled between mountains and water. Its unique landscape, a perfect fusion of nature and human artistry, was grand yet graceful, like a palace from a bedtime story.

What was most astonishing was that House Randell had built Silver Moon Manor for only twelve thousand Gold Sols, five thousand of which was the fee for the architect, Lord Anthony. When the guests heard of the manor’s cost, none of them could believe it. Princess Anqi enviously declared that she would be willing to pay five hundred thousand Gold Sols for the blueprints to the giant brick kiln. Enbise, Duke York, however, said with no small amount of pride, “This isn’t a matter of money!”

This was indeed not a matter of money.

The giant brick kiln made durable, lightweight mud bricks extraordinarily cheap. With such inexpensive building materials, any architect could bring a fairy-tale palace to life. Moreover, Centaur Hills relied on the green brick industry to maintain the progress of its water projects.

“Trading dirt for money… what a brilliant idea!” Sophia mused to herself.

The bedroom door was suddenly pushed open. Without turning her head, Sophia said languidly, “My dear little Victor, you forgot to knock.”

“It’s a Randall family rule: a husband doesn’t need to knock before entering his wife’s bedroom.” Victor walked in with a smile. “Also, my beautiful lady, if you could drop the ‘little,’ your husband would be even happier.”

Sophia paused, asking in confusion, “There’s such an improper family rule?”

“There wasn’t. Now there is.”

The mirror reflected Victor’s shamelessly self-righteous expression. Sophia let out a chuckle and turned around. “I thought you’d be with Sylvia or Nicole tonight.”

Sophia’s red lips curved upwards, her dimples appearing faintly. Her crystal-clear violet eyes held an intoxicating smile. She wore a short nightdress of spider silk, revealing a pair of beautifully sculpted, snow-white legs. Her graceful figure was faintly visible, utterly alluring.

Victor praised her silently: a true beauty.

“May I take that as a wife’s jealousy?” His gaze openly roved over Sophia’s red lips, full bosom, slender waist, shapely hips, and long legs, making no attempt to hide his appraisal.

“If I said I was jealous, would you believe me?” Sophia rested her cheek on one hand, her long legs crossed. With a slight shift in her posture, she naturally exuded an ultimate elegance and charm.

Looking at Victor’s handsome face and his intensely predatory gaze, Sophia couldn’t help but feel amused, along with a secret thrill of delight.

They were husband and wife in name and in deed, so anything that happened between them was perfectly reasonable. A little bit of flirtation only added to the fun and was harmless enough. Despite Victor’s aggressive appearance, he was actually harmless—just fresh and delectable, ready to be ravaged at will.

Besides, Victor was delicate and handsome, looking like a frail boy of sixteen or seventeen. The small vortexes of air that occasionally appeared around him only added to his mysterious aura.

The beauty and grace of an elf, a frail and mysterious disposition, a noble Bloodline yet without the domineering danger of a Gold Knight—all of this held an immense attraction for a high-ranking female knight. Sophia had to admit that the Victor of today truly made her heart race. As for his string of lovers, that was something she could do little about. Even back in the Royal Capital, Victor had been just as sought after by high-ranking female knights.

Pursuing a superior Bloodline was a maternal instinct for female knights. If that drive were lost, the entire knightly regime would collapse, and the Knight class would gradually die out. As the saying goes, a dragon does not consort with a snake. High-ranking female knights who held dominant positions in their families would often distance themselves from their weaker-blooded husbands after giving birth to an heir, seeking Gold Knight partners with superior Bloodlines instead. However, Gold Knights were aggressive and domineering, and being with them was by no means a pleasant experience. Most high-ranking female knights were destined to live out their lives in solitude.

Although Extraordinary Knights could suppress their base desires, this was not the correct way.

High-ranked Knights who abandoned their humanity were doomed to be assimilated by the Elemental Sea, which was no different from death.

Due to physiological and psychological differences, male Knights were responsible for defending the family and expanding its influence, while female knights shouldered the duty of procreation and raising offspring. Compared to their male counterparts, their conviction to protect their domain was weaker, and they found their primary fulfillment in marriage, love, and children.

These worldly attachments and bonds were like the strings of a kite, allowing a High-ranked Knight to soar through the Elemental Sea. With every string severed, their understanding of the world’s origin deepened, which in turn affected a Gold Knight’s future path.

The conviction of male Knights to protect and pioneer was incredibly strong. They could first sever their ties to love, marriage, and family, only to slowly rebuild them upon their return. High-ranking female knights, however, prioritized family and children. Unfortunately, most of them were very lonely. It was for this reason that the number of female Gold Knights was far lower than that of males.

Including legendary paladins, there were currently a total of fifty-nine Gold Knights in the human kingdoms, only seven of whom were women. And Sylvia and Roland were exceptions among exceptions.

The Elemental Sea’s doors were always open to a Spirit Knight, but it also constantly corroded a Spirit Knight’s Elemental Node. Sylvia would not be easily assimilated by the Elemental Sea, but she had to constantly maintain a mortal mindset; otherwise, it was uncertain if she could even live to be one hundred and twenty.

As for Roland, she was a rare adventurer and explorer, not a guardian. She was full of curiosity and passion for everything in the mortal world. If a guardian was connected to the secular world by only a dozen or so kite strings, then an adventurer had at least a hundred. It was almost impossible for an adventurer to become lost in the immense power of the Elemental Sea. They always explored the laws of the physical world first, then sought out the corresponding origin Principles in the Elemental Sea. To put it simply: the diverse and multifaceted real world held a greater attraction for Roland.

However, adventurers were an unstable element for a family. No one ever knew when they might just run off to wander the world or do something completely astounding.

All this knowledge had been imparted to Sophia by the Queen of Sus. Elayanuo had no desire to get involved in the barbarians’ affairs, but she was very interested in Sophia—or more precisely, in the Sword Saint Bloodline. Queen Cynthia told Sophia that as long as she could help House Elayanuo acquire the Sword Saint Bloodline, the Kingdom of Sus would be her staunchest supporter, and she could even be invested as a Grand Duke of the kingdom.

Sophia was in no mood to meddle in the affairs of House Elayanuo; the current state of the Wimbledon Merchant Association was troubling enough. However, the knowledge and information Cynthia had passed on were very valuable, at least showing her which path to take.

“The Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild might not be enough to save me from the fate of assimilation by the Elemental Sea. But perhaps if I add marriage and family, I can take that crucial step. Yet, Victor is not the man he once was. Will he still love me? If he truly still cares for me, he’ll do everything he can to make me stay with House Randell and be his dutiful wife. But what about the business I’ve worked so hard to build?”

At this thought, Sophia sighed faintly and said, “I really am a little jealous of Nicole. All she has to do is support you wholeheartedly, without a second thought… To be honest, I find that very difficult to do.”

Although they were a legitimate married couple, each had their own followers, and neither could easily subordinate the other. Between the Randell Fief and Baroness Fynikos’s fief, over eighty thousand people lived under Victor’s protection. Meanwhile, the Wimbledon Merchant Association had more than ninety thousand people, including both core and peripheral members.

In family politics, marriage and career were inextricably linked. But if a choice had to be made, one would invariably choose their career.

Victor was well aware of this, and his goal was clear: to absorb the core of the Wimbledon Merchant Association and expand the power of The Golden Company. This peerless beauty was merely a bonus. As for whether she could reach the pinnacle… Sylvia once held expectations for her, but now… no one cared, except for Sophia herself.

“I wasn’t with Nicole just now. Lord Boris of House Sorim spoke with me about something. He’s asking for help from our House of Randell, and I came to ask for your opinion.” Victor thought for a moment and decided to placate Sophia first.

“Boris Sorim? Marquis Sorim’s first-in-line heir?” Sophia asked in surprise.

“Yes.” Victor nodded. “You should be aware of House Sorim’s situation. The old Marquess doesn’t have much time left and can no longer control the family. Boris is worried that his branch, the eldest son’s line, will be purged by his rivals. He’s pleading for my assistance.”

Sophia raised an eyebrow. “You intend to intervene in House Sorim’s internal affairs? That’s not a wise choice.”

“You’re right.” Victor smiled. “Boris didn’t make an excessive request. He only asked me to shelter his young son and daughter. If the eldest son’s line can survive the family struggle, the two children will serve us as attendants and take the Randell family name. In the event that Boris and his blood-kin meet with misfortune, he hopes that when we expand into the Southern Continent from Centaur Hills, his young son can receive a small fief and carry on the Sorim family name. For this, he is willing to give our House of Randell an offering of one hundred thousand Gold Sols.”

“You agreed?”

“Yes. I’ve already had Elina arrange for Boris’s two children to stay at Silver Moon Manor for now.”

Sophia frowned. “Somehow, this feels problematic.”

Victor smiled faintly. “The two children are quite talented, and one hundred thousand Gold Sols is indeed tempting. However…” His tone shifted. “This was supposed to be a secret agreement, and Boris has no way to hold me to it. Therefore, he’s using my reputation to make his opponents hesitate… Hmph. He visits the Randell Fief with his illegitimate children who have no inheritance rights, only to return alone. Who wouldn’t know that Viscount Randell has taken in Boris’s children? When the time comes, all he needs to do is voluntarily renounce the Marquess’s title, and with my prestige, he’ll have no problem saving his own skin. Before the dust settles, Boris can fight it out with those ambitious schemers without fear.”

“Viscount Randell’s reputation is worth more than one hundred thousand Gold Sols and two noble children. So, I proposed a condition of my own. House Randell will purchase soft silver ore from Marquess Sorim’s domain at a price slightly lower than that of stone. The volume of trade will be unlimited, and the agreement will last for no less than twenty years.”

“My dear, do you really intend to use soft silver ore as a substitute for stone?” Sophia said, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

“I have no choice.” Victor spread his hands with a helpless look. “Centaur Hills lacks stone, and House Sorim probably wouldn’t dare defy the Royal Family’s will by selling it to us. While soft silver ore doesn’t have much value, it can still be used as filler for the city walls…”

Sophia was silent for a moment, then sighed, “Actually, you didn’t need to ask for my opinion.”

“But I have a favor to ask you.” Victor gave a slight smile. “Laketon needs a thirty-meter-high city wall. I plan to use green bricks for the outer facade and soft silver ore as pebble filler. The construction cost will be around two hundred thousand Gold Sols, including the procurement and transport of the soft silver ore. However, the ore must be fired and cooled to break it into pebble-sized pieces, which will require a large amount of charcoal. The thorns on the outskirts of the Gloomy Forest are nearly endless, and they can be made into high-quality charcoal. But I don’t have the money to purchase that much charcoal…”

Sophia looked at Victor with a half-smile. “Are you trying to borrow money from me?”

“Borrow money? No! I want to do a deal with you. A deal in futures.”

Chapter 360: The Chessboard (Part 2)

“Futures?” Marchioness Wimbledon looked at her husband, utterly bewildered.

“A forward contract trade for spot goods. I call it ‘futures’,” Victor explained further. “My dear, you must have heard. Within seven years, we will be handing over the construction technology for the giant brick kilns to Duke Nimes and Duke Wellington as a reward for their support of the water project. With the proliferation of giant brick kilns, it’s foreseeable that the price of charcoal will rise. If you start hoarding charcoal now, you’re certain to make a fortune in the future. Of course, if you make large purchases of charcoal, the price will rise immediately. But if you take out a huge sum of money to buy out the next seven years of charcoal production from the lords surrounding the Gloomy Forest at a pre-agreed price, the profit would be very substantial.”

Victor shook his head and sighed. “Unfortunately, I don’t have the money, so this futures deal can only be done by you. Luckily, you’re not an outsider… For the sake of the idea I’ve given you, please agree to my request to set a charcoal price with you in advance. As for the Nim family and the Wellington family, just go ahead and make money off them. If the future price of charcoal doesn’t meet expectations, I’m willing to take it all off your hands at your cost, guaranteeing you won’t lose money.”

Sophia pondered for a long time, then murmured, “Predicting future price fluctuations to a make a forward contract trade… That’s truly a brilliant idea… But the lords are all very shrewd. Won’t they just raise the price? Even if we reach an agreement, who can guarantee they will honor their word and buy or deliver the goods at the agreed-upon price?”

“If the Gloomy Forest belonged to a single lord, he could set the price of charcoal however he wished! But there are twelve small families around the Gloomy Forest. None of them can monopolize the charcoal trade, so do you really expect them to reach a consensus?” Victor scoffed, then added, “As for a guarantor… isn’t there the Church’s Divine Notarization?”

Sophia stared at Victor’s face for a long while, then shook her head with a wry smile. “My dear, I haven’t seen you in years, and you seem like a completely different person… No wonder Williams values you so highly, no wonder Sylvia is so captivated by your talent…”

Williams values me? What does that mean?

Victor quickly tossed the question to the back of his mind and said with feigned “surprise,” “My dear, you agree?”

Sophia’s face showed reluctance, and she said regretfully, “My dear husband, I’m afraid I can’t help you…”

That’s more like it! If you had lost your fighting spirit and been willing to submit, that would have disappointed me. As long as you’re negotiating terms with me, I have a chance to get my hands on the Wimbledon Merchant Association’s connections and channels…

After the evening banquet, Victor had originally planned to find an opportunity to approach the barbarian Elder, but Constantine and his men stuck to Elder Harald like glue. Seeing no chance to speak with the barbarian alone, Victor could only give up for the time being. On the way back to his chambers, he received a request for a meeting from Lord Boris Sorim.

After learning the reason for the visit from the heir of House Sorim, Victor took the opportunity to propose purchasing soft silver ore. Marquess Sorim’s domain was indeed rich in mineral resources, with a surprising three soft silver veins suitable for mining. Faced with Viscount Randell’s request, Boris was both shocked and delighted, and he readily agreed.

Soft silver had no mining value; it was barely usable even as paving stones. Only a family as desperate as the York family would resort to using soft silver ore to build their city walls. Selling the soft silver to Viscount Randell would not only bring a small profit but also avoid offending the Auguste family, all while making clear the tacit understanding between the eldest son’s line and the Randall family. As long as a steady stream of soft silver ore was shipped to the Randell Fief, who would dare to make a fatal move against the eldest son’s line?

By the same token, no matter who inherited the title of Marquess Sorim, he would not dare to tear up the trade agreement between Boris and Victor. The House of Randell held Boris’s blood-kin, and Viscount Randell only needed an excuse to intervene in the internal affairs of House Sorim.

Boris was playing a game of borrowing power to protect himself, but Victor was no political novice… Borrowing power? Who didn’t know how to do that?

Victor used the current political landscape and his own reputation to pull off a classic maneuver of getting something for nothing. At the thought of Laketon’s city walls being filled with thorium ore, he couldn’t help but want to roar with laughter.

And that wasn’t all. Stockpiling charcoal resources had become the next step in Victor’s plan. Processing soft silver ore required charcoal, which would desensitize the major powers to his acquisition of such a strategic resource. And Sylvia would assume that Victor’s real goal was the charcoal, thereby overlooking the existence of thorium.

As for using the charcoal trade to introduce the concept of futures to Sophia, that was yet another of Victor’s schemes.

Transactions of a nature similar to futures trading had appeared as early as ancient Greece and Rome, and their benefits were self-evident. The Golden Company would sooner or later lead a trade revolution in this other world, and futures trading was an indispensable part of it. But Victor’s main reason for bringing up futures now was to display his extraordinary business talent to Sophia—first to become her trusted advisor, then to find an opportunity to get involved in the affairs of the Wimbledon Merchant Association, and finally to achieve his goal of winning both the woman and her wealth.

Victor said coldly, “At most, it would only take eighty thousand Gold Sols to complete the charcoal futures trade. That amount is a drop in the ocean for you. I don’t understand what you find so difficult about it.”

“I do have a fortune of four million five hundred thousand Gold Sols, but I originally thought I only had to fund the construction of a port. I didn’t expect to have to support a full-scale war. My dear, do you think I still have enough money?” Sophia explained softly.

Victor clicked his tongue and nodded. “Indeed, it’s not enough… I misunderstood you. I’ll think of another way.”

Sophia was silent for a moment before saying sincerely, “My dear, I hurt you in the past, and I am very sorry. But I don’t regret it. Queen Catherine wanted to use you to replace me. She was even willing to send people to surround and kill me. I had no other choice at the time.”

Victor waved his hand. “I’m not here to settle old scores. In fact, I should probably thank you for sending me to the Centaur Hills.”

“Indeed,” Sophia nodded slightly, a small smile on her face. “I must clarify one thing. I once considered having an heir with Andre, but I never went through with it. For High-ranked Knights, a new partner requires time to build affection and trust, because a Silver Knight can kill a Gold Knight. While it’s not unusual for a female knight to take a lover, you seem particularly concerned about it. I’m brazenly explaining this to you in the hope that you won’t hold a grudge against me and will still see me as your woman. As for affection… I imagine I don’t hold much of a place in your heart anymore. I’m probably not even as important to you as your personal handmaiden.”

Victor said frankly, “If I were to deny it, I doubt you’d believe me anyway.”

“There’s no need to hide your true thoughts. That’s how a real, powerful lord should be,” Sophia said with approval. “Then let’s speak as a lord and a high noble.”

“Victor, you must admit, we need each other. The help I can give you is something no other woman can provide.”

Victor interjected, “The premise is that you must give up your title as Marchioness Wimbledon and think of yourself as Viscountess Randell.”

“It is precisely because I am both Viscountess Randell and Marchioness Wimbledon that my help to you is greatest.” Sophia said with a smile, “As long as the merchant association is in my hands, our wealth will be endless. If you just help me now, the Randall family’s financial problems can be solved.”

“It seems that no one wants you to continue running the Wimbledon Merchant Association,” Victor said with a frown. “I don’t see any chance of you winning.”

“I still have two trump cards,” Sophia said after a moment’s thought. “My dear, have you ever considered this: it might take the barbarians a hundred years to find their sacred object. If they do find it, how will they return to Mount Arreat?”

A thought struck Victor, and he blurted out, “Raegzo?”

“Exactly!” Sophia let out a light laugh. “To welcome the sacred object back, the barbarians need to establish a stable connection with human powers. They had Raegzo become my follower for this very purpose. Even if Raegzo and I die of old age, Arreat will send another barbarian to follow my heir.”

Victor shook his head. “That is precisely why the various powers will not allow you to run the Wimbledon Merchant Association. The Radiant Knights have always hoped that a lord from the Sasan Empire could establish ties with Mount Arreat. The Moon Bear family has been planning this for centuries. Just as Sylvia said, unless you join the Teutonic Duchy, you must give up your barbarian follower. The Sasan Empire will most likely use ale to trade with Arreat and eventually replace you as the barbarians’ ally.”

“And before that happens?” Sophia said with confidence. “It will take the barbarians at least eight years to cross the river. The Sassans also need time to promote new farming methods to produce and store enough green wheat. Before then, the barbarians are on my side. No one dares to sever trade with the Wimbledon Merchant Association. In fact, apart from the Kingdom of Borea playing some petty tricks, the Wimbledon Merchant Association’s operations are still fairly normal…”

“Is that so?” Victor said faintly. “On the contrary, I think your time is running out. If you can’t quickly resolve the Stag Merchants’ Guild’s predicament, its members will soon abandon you, just as subjects will abandon a family if their lord cannot protect them.”

Sophia faltered slightly and bowed her head. “My second trump card is you.”

“I will release Raegzo from her follower status, giving her freedom. Both the Sasan Empire and the barbarians will owe me a favor. As long as you give me the monopoly on raw sugar, the members of the Stag Merchants’ Guild will not abandon me. The Sasan Empire is about to expand eastward, and their soldiers will need raw sugar to supplement their nutrition and recover their strength. On the other hand, the Southwind Merchants’ Guild from the Kingdom of Borea is in for a tough time. Once the Sasan Empire has ale, what strategic goods will the Southwind Merchants’ Guild have to trade? I will watch them become a third-rate merchant guild,” Sophia sneered.

Victor took the opportunity to ask, “I’m very curious, why are the Boreans so fixated on you?”

“They’re afraid I’ll monopolize the medicinal herb trade from Arreat…” Sophia explained the entire situation.

“The Radiant Knights don’t want a neutral caravan getting involved in barbarian diplomacy, that’s understandable. The Boreans are worried that an essential supply of medicinal herbs will be monopolized by the Kingdom of Sus, which I can also understand. Since you’ve already promised to preserve the Kingdom of Borea’s share of the medicinal herb trade, why are they still determined to fight you to the death?” Victor asked, stroking his chin.

Sophia said helplessly, “Before I could figure it out, His Holiness the Pontiff brought me back, and then the Boreans started their clandestine attacks on the Stag Merchants’ Guild. Now, a feud has developed between us. It will only end when one side falls.”

Victor nodded, then shook his head. “The matter of the raw sugar monopoly requires Sylvia’s approval. She still wants you to stay in the Centaur Hills. On this point, my stance is the same as the York family’s. I will not anger Sylvia just to please you.”

“You can,” Sophia stared fixedly at Victor and said slowly, “Sword Saint Draven had no offspring until he was forty-three, only after his bloodline had completely transformed did he have his first son with Alijie. Your current situation perfectly matches Sword Saint Draven’s experience. During the rapid purification of your Moon Elf bloodline, you have also produced no offspring. Therefore, Sylvia has extremely high hopes for you. In her eyes, you are far more important than I am. Even if you give the raw sugar monopoly to me, she will at most complain a little. She won’t get truly angry. In other words, you have the right to be willful.”

“Could I really transform to have golden hair and golden eyes?” At this, Victor himself was confused. He shook his head and asked, “What can you give me?”

Sophia bit her lip gently and said softly, “I swear, I will belong only to you…”

“Hmph! Hmph! It’s not yet certain who would be taking advantage of whom…” Victor sneered, casting a sidelong glance at Sophia.

“Very well. Following the profit distribution method of the shareholding system, I will give you a ten-percent share of the Wimbledon Merchant Association,” Sophia said quickly.

Victor thought for a moment and said, “We’ll have to wait until the Senate finishes discussing the port construction and the Fishman War before we can make a decision.”

Sophia nodded in agreement. Then she saw Victor take a chessboard out from a drawer.

“My dear, let’s play a game of chess.”

“What? You’re staying up in the middle of the night just to play chess with me?!” Sophia could hardly believe her ears. She was now seriously doubting her own charm.

“Mhm. I’ll let you go first.” Victor set up the board and said with a serious expression, “Whoever loses has to take off a piece of clothing.”

Sophia looked down at the single nightgown she was wearing. When she looked up again, her cheeks were flushed like peach blossoms, and her gaze was like rippling water.

Chapter 361: Seeing Them Off (Part 1)

Two days later.

At an intersection outside Laketon, Victor and Sophia were seeing off the last group of foreign envoys who had graced the House of Randell with their visit. Over the past two days, Victor had bid farewell to most of his guests. Today, Marquess Faroul would also be returning to the Kingdom of Naville, and the two princesses of the Kingdom of Sus were traveling with him.

“Your Excellency Randell, it’s hard to imagine that the Randell Fief was nothing but a wasteland just over five years ago. The canals, terraced fields, villages, Laketon, and Silver Moon Manor have all left a deep impression on me, especially the cuisine of the House of Randell… That was the most delicious, most exquisite, most refined food I have ever eaten.”

Marquess Faroul was burly, with a rugged face, exuding a valiant, masculine air. He looked to be around thirty, but he was actually sixty-two this year. Of course, calculated based on a Gold Knight’s maximum lifespan of one hundred and sixty years, he was indeed only thirty-eight—a thirty-eight-year-old, extravagant noble.

The prominent nobles of Naville lived clustered in the bustling Royal Capital. They were valiant and fierce, and while they didn’t care much for etiquette, they loved a life of luxury and were extremely fond of fine wine and food, with a penchant for competitive extravagance. The luxurious style of Naville’s high society was on full display with Marquess Faroul. His shirt was woven from rare gold and silver spider silk, and its buttons were actually made from the highest-grade earth element crystals.

Victor estimated that this shirt alone was worth seven thousand Gold Sol, equivalent to a full suit of Adamantine armor.

The fact that Naville’s wealthiest nobles held the dishes of Silver Moon Manor in such high regard showed just how successful the master chefs of the House of Randell were. In truth, their culinary skills had already surpassed those of their former teacher, the current Viscount Randell.

“Your Highness Faroul, I have already given the secret to that deliciousness to your servant,” Victor said humbly. He then nodded to the eldest princess of Sus. “And of course, I also gave it to Your Highness Fenna’s maid. It is my gift to you and Princess Shireen.”

“Oh? What kind of secret could make the tail meat of a six-legged crocodile even more delicious?” Princess Fenna asked with a sweet laugh, holding Marquess Faroul’s arm.

Before Victor could answer, Sophia spoke first. “Dear Cousin Fenna, the so-called culinary secret is actually the shell-less swamp clam. Hmm, it has another name: swamp shipworm. The Nidam Great Marsh in the Eastern Alliance is also a rich source of this disgusting-looking yet spirit-invigorating delicacy.”

“Shipworm? How have I never heard of it?” Princess Fenna asked in surprise, raising a delicate eyebrow.

The territory of the Eastern Alliance had always been the backyard of the Kingdoms of Sus and Borea. The great nobles of Sus continuously extracted resources from the Eastern Alliance through their caravans, and the most valuable goods were the produce from the Nidam Great Marsh.

The environment of the Nidam Swamp was perilous, making it difficult for humans to venture deep inside, which made its native flora and fauna extremely valuable. The freemen living on the outskirts of the Nidam Swamp made their living by hunting the marsh beasts and gathering medicinal herbs. They traded these rare swamp resources with the Sus caravans for daily necessities, weapons, and military equipment.

Princess Fenna was very knowledgeable about the specialty products of the swamp. At the Randall family’s evening banquet, she had recognized every ingredient that came from the swamp. Yet, she had never heard of a swamp creature like the shipworm.

The shipworm could invigorate the spirit, but that was for ordinary people. If it were merely a rare delicacy, it would be of little consequence to a lord. However, Princess Fenna could not tolerate a weakening of the Kingdom of Sus’s control over the Eastern Alliance.

Why does Sophia know about the shipworm, but I don’t?! How much else are those rabble from the Eastern Alliance hiding from us… Fenna Elayanuo maintained her elegant and charming smile, but she was seething with anger inside.

Sophia smiled gently, her red lips parting slightly as she explained, “The shipworm is pure white and looks like an elongated worm. It likes to gnaw on damp wood, including the small wooden boats of the swamp hunters, hence its name. I once followed swamp hunters into the Nidam Great Marsh and saw them break open rotting wood and eat the shipworms raw. I tried one myself, and the taste was indeed unique. Unfortunately, while the shipworm is delicious, it dies and spoils very easily and is difficult to preserve. Moreover, its shape is unsightly, so it’s considered a snack for the lower-class people. It would be impossible for the freemen of the East to transport fresh shipworms to the Kingdom of Sus or the Kingdom of Borea. I never expected my husband to find an ingenious solution to the problem of transporting them over long distances.” As she spoke, she turned her head to look at Victor, her expression a perfect blend of admiration and pride, like a noblewoman showing off her husband’s talents to outsiders.

So it’s because the shipworms are hard to preserve… Princess Fenna felt a wave of relief. She said with a hint of envy, chuckling, “There’s no need to speak of His Excellency Randell’s cleverness… It’s the affection between you two that makes me envious.” Her gaze shifted to Victor. “Your Excellency Randell, you still haven’t told us what the secret is.”

“The name ‘shipworm’ is unpleasant. I now call it the ‘shell-less swamp clam,’” Victor said with a wave of his hand. “And I wasn’t the one who invented the method for processing it. Several of my master chefs have dedicated themselves to honing their culinary skills, always striving for perfection and trying out different methods of preparing ingredients every day. They found that the shell-less clam would spoil quickly whether it was sun-dried or air-dried. After a few experiments, they discovered that if they first used the juice of a unique swamp plant to make the clam automatically excrete its water content before drying it, the problem of spoilage could be solved. The dried clam, when ground into a powder, becomes a marvelous seasoning. Any ingredient becomes exceptionally delicious when this seasoning is added. I have already given the specific method to your personal maid.”

Victor bowed slightly to Marquess Faroul again and said apologetically, “Your Highness Faroul, there are no swamps around Naville. I have only prepared fifty pounds of the seasoning powder for you.”

“Haha, no matter. When I return to Naville, I’ll host a grand banquet. With this seasoning powder, we’ll see if that country bumpkin Resk dares to mock my family’s food again… When the powder runs out, I’m sure Fenna would be happy to sell me some more. I just don’t know if there are enough shell-less clams. If the Sus caravans can’t meet Naville’s needs, we can also purchase from Lady Sophia’s merchants’ guild.” Marquess Faroul laughed heartily.

A smile played on Sophia’s lips as she performed an elegant curtsy, her radiant beauty causing even Fenna to feel a pang of jealousy.

Was Marquess Faroul really talking about seasoning powder?

Yes, but not entirely.

The swamps held more specialty products than just shell-less clams; there were also all sorts of medicinal herbs and animal hides, like the Marsh Dragon-Lizard hide, which was worth a fortune. The Kingdom of Sus once monopolized the trade of swamp specialty products, but later the Kingdom of Borea began to compete with them. Now, a third competitor had appeared.

When Dukes Faroul and Monstock saw the six-legged crocodile-hide armor worn by the Swiftbird light cavalry, they both expressed their interest in discussing a purchase from Sylvia.

This was certainly not good news for the Kingdom of Sus, but the lords of other kingdoms would definitely welcome a new supplier. The Centaur Hills were adjacent to the Lizard Marsh, so it was within Princess Fenna’s expectations that the York family would sell swamp specialty products. However, she hadn’t expected Viscount Randell to start sending people into the swamp to gather resources so quickly.

The swamp held not only riches but also danger. It was neither reasonable nor right for a lord to send his family’s soldiers to their deaths for the sake of wealth, and the resident priest was obligated to discourage freemen from engaging in such dangerous trades.

Due to the limited number of priests in the Church, their reach could not extend to the eastern territories. Without the support of priests, the vast territory and population would instead dilute a lord’s power. This was why neither the Kingdom of Sus nor Borea was willing to incorporate the vast and barren Eastern Alliance into their domains. Their armed caravans only needed to ensure that no large beastmen settlements appeared in the eastern region. The two kingdoms and the Church didn’t even know the total population of the Eastern Alliance. It was precisely because there were no lords or priests to manage them that the Wildmen of the Eastern Alliance had to risk their lives to gather swamp resources in order to survive.

As for the deaths and injuries of the swamp hunters, they had to be responsible for themselves. In any case, the lords of the two kingdoms would not send their family soldiers to perish in the swamp.

Viscount Randell not only sent men deep into the swamp to scout and hunt, but he also managed to earn the support of his vassals and people. Fenna had no idea how he had accomplished this.

On the other hand, the recipe for the seasoning powder was a generous gift. Spices from the Twilight Forest, when transported to the Sasan Empire, were worth their weight in gold coins. Sylvia had said that the cuisine of the House of Randell was unparalleled in the world, and Princess Anqi of Sasan had openly admitted at the banquet that the dishes were unforgettable. Although there was some flattery involved, with Anqi’s status and influence, it would be hard for the seasoning not to become a sensation in the Sasan Empire.

Whatever the case, Sophia now had a new product. She could stay afloat for a while longer.

This secret formula represented considerable wealth, yet young Victor had given it away just like that… Fenna mused for a moment, then said softly, “Your Excellency Randell, Earl Ashlibor didn’t receive the recipe for the seasoning, did he?”

Victor smiled slightly, shook his head, and said flatteringly, “The recipe was a gift for the beautiful Princess Fenna.”

“You certainly know what to say.” Princess Fenna was delighted and gave a beautiful smile. “If Your Excellency ever has time to visit the Kingdom of Sus, I will be sure to extend my utmost hospitality.”

“Ran—Victor, I have a gift for you too,” said Princess Shireen, with her beautiful black hair, speaking shyly. She untied the cloth bag on her back and took out a metal bow. “I’ve readjusted the Silver Wing Bow,” she said, full of anticipation. “Try it and see if you like it.”

The Silver Wing Bow was exquisitely crafted, its limb shaped like a black eagle spreading its wings, and the Mithril bowstring shone dazzlingly. But Victor’s gaze was fixed on the hands holding the bow.

Princess Shireen’s hands were extremely beautiful, her ten fingers long, slender, and strong. The skin on the back of her hands was delicate and smooth, but Victor could clearly see the calluses on her fingertips and the mark of a burn. Through that faint scar, Victor could almost see the lovely figure of Shireen swinging a hammer in a stuffy smithy.

As the daughter of the Elayanuo Queen and Duke Meiding, Shireen’s birth was illustrious, and her appearance and bloodline were impeccable. She could have easily let an attendant blacksmith complete the forging work for her. But ever since being rejected by Victor, she had buried herself in the smithy to adjust the Silver Wing Bow, even missing the finals of the Tournament. It was clear that Shireen truly loved forging.

Victor liked the shy and focused personality of this princess who was so dedicated to her craft, but he could not reciprocate the Sus princess’s affections. He silently took the Silver Wing Bow and felt that it was much lighter. He put on his finger tab, drew the bow with force, and the limbs tightened backward, like a bird of prey folding its wings for a swift dive.

Shireen smiled sweetly, a pure, heartfelt smile that instantly made Victor feel the weight of the Silver Wing Bow grow heavy once more. He bowed solemnly and said, “Your Highness, your kindness is my greatest honor. This Silver Wing Bow will become a treasure passed down through the generations of the House of Randell.”

A faint blush instantly appeared on the young girl’s delicate face. She remained silent, just nodding shyly. Marquess Faroul couldn’t bear to watch any longer and spoke up, “Shireen reforged this Silver Wing Bow specifically for you.”

Victor’s expression froze. He thought for a moment, then took a small cloth pouch from his trouser pocket and handed it to Shireen with both hands. “This is a gift in return for Your Highness.”

Shireen lowered her head and took the pouch. Without opening it, she clutched it tightly in her hand. Fenna put an arm around her niece’s shoulders and asked with a smile, “What’s inside?”

“When Master Edwin was exploring the Great Marsh, he discovered a magical crystal that can purify water under moonlight. It’s called a Purification Crystal, and it is extremely rare. I don’t know if the Nidam Great Marsh has the same kind of crystal, but this is the only treasure the House of Randell has to offer at the moment,” Victor replied.

“I can guarantee that the Nidam Great Marsh does not have this kind of crystal,” Marquess Faroul said, shaking his head.

Princess Fenna also nodded. “Indeed, it does not.”

Of course the Nidam Swamp doesn’t have Purification Crystals, otherwise Master Edwin wouldn’t have been unfamiliar with them back then… Victor smiled and said, “It seems, then, that the Purification Crystal is a magical crystal unique to the Lizard Marsh, possessing extraordinary properties. I hope Your Highness likes my gift in return.”

“I like it very much…” Princess Shireen said softly. She raised her head, gently pressed a kiss on the corner of Victor’s lips, and looked into his eyes, mustering her courage to say, “Victor, when I advance to the Silver-rank and am a worthy match for a Wind Walk Archer of ancient and noble bloodline, I will come to see you again…”

This has nothing to do with bloodlines. It’s a matter of status and background. We are fated to never be together. By the time you advance to a Silver Knight, this feeling of love at first sight will slowly fade, just like the scar on your hand… Victor sighed inwardly but said aloud, “Yes, I look forward to our reunion.”

“We should be going,” said Marquess Faroul. “Your Excellency Randell, on behalf of His Majesty Resk, I invite you to visit the Kingdom of Naville at your convenience.”

“I am overwhelmed by His Majesty Resk’s gracious invitation. Please convey my respects to His Majesty Resk, Your Highness Faroul.”

Faroul nodded and turned to board the carriage that had been waiting for some time. Princess Fenna pulled her niece into another carriage.

The carriages began to move slowly. Victor watched the procession recede into the distance, lost in thought.

“They’re long gone, and you’re still watching? You might as well chase after them and ask Shireen to stay. Fenna and she would both be delighted, and you could even get the practice method for the Surge combat technique,” Sophia teased, half-joking, half-serious.

Victor deliberately replied, “Princess Fenna is charming, mature, and beautiful. She’s more to my taste.”

“Oh? Then you could have asked her to stay as well.”

“The cat’s out of the bag, isn’t it?” Victor turned around and said, “Fenna was once Marquess Faroul’s lover, but I always felt that while they seemed close, they were actually distant. They rode in separate carriages, and even during their stay at Silver Moon Manor these past few days, they never rekindled their old flame. Now that I think about it, Fenna and Shireen have completely opposite temperaments. Both princesses were probably here for me. And you’re just like Sylvia… What benefits did the Queen of Sus promise you?”

Sophia shot Victor an annoyed glance and sighed. “I don’t care about the benefits Cynthia promised at all. However, Fenna is very influential. As the eldest princess, she can do things the queen can’t conveniently do herself. Reaching an understanding with her helps the Stag Merchants’ Guild deal with the Southwind Merchants’ Guild. Alright, Fenna came of her own accord, her purpose being to meet the legendary Wind Walk Archer. Since you weren’t very enthusiastic towards her, she wouldn’t embarrass herself, even though she was secretly using her charm on you. But that’s just the innate nature of the Elayanuo bloodline.”

“Innate nature?! What kind of innate nature?” Victor asked curiously.

“Look into my eyes.”

Sophia had a rare pair of purple eyes, clear and bright like purple crystals, and exceedingly beautiful.

Victor remembered that only about six hundred people on Earth had purple eyes. Most of them were exceptionally attractive. The most famous among them was an American actress whose beauty was impeccable. Her exquisite features, paired with her violet-blue eyes, captivated countless fans, earning her the title of the world’s number one beauty.

This showed the allure of purple eyes.

Sophia, Fenna, and Shireen all had purple irises. They were all stunningly beautiful as well, especially Sophia, whose looks and bearing were in no way inferior to Roland’s or Sylvia’s.

A Silver-rank female knight able to rival the beauty of female knights at their peak? This was highly unusual.

Looking at Sophia’s peerless face, Victor felt a rush of heat and unconsciously wrapped an arm around her slender waist, kissing her crystalline red lips passionately. Sophia responded with equal fervor. Just as Victor was about to lose himself, the X-3 activated on its own, quickly clearing the abnormal state of his mind.

“This… this is an extraordinary ability too?” Victor asked, a little flustered.

“The Wimbledons and the Neowists aren’t the only ones with special bloodlines,” Sophia said with a faint smile. “Although the history of House Elayanuo only spans a mere nine hundred-plus years, their knight’s bloodline also possesses the traits of the bloodlines of other races.”

“Your Viscount’s wife is the same.”

Chapter 362: Seeing Off (Part 2)

The Church’s Ivory Sanctum collectively referred to all non-human, sapient species with social structures as the Other Races. In other words, any sapient race that could not provide the power of faith was one of the Other Races. The scholars of the Silver Spire, however, based their classification on historical records, labeling those races that had interacted with humanity in the past as Other Races. This included elves, Barbarians, barbarians, dwarves, halflings, and Assyrians. Other sapient species were classified as beastmen or monsters.

Victor had learned from Reno that the Alchemical Empire classified sapient species according to linguistic characteristics, dividing them into the Human, Goblin, and Draconic language families.

The sapient species of the Human language family included humans, elves, Barbarians, dwarves, halflings, and so on. What was suspicious was that in Reno’s Will Side, there were no records of barbarians or Assyrians. Victor suspected that the barbarians and Assyrians were new sapient races that appeared only after the collapse of the Alchemical Empire, and they might even have deep connections to it.

The Goblin language family primarily comprised Goblins, Ogres, Gnolls, Centaurs, Satyrs, Boarkin, and others. Their physical forms varied greatly, and their vocal characteristics were all different, but they did indeed belong to the same language family. At the very least, Hobgoblins could communicate with them without issue, and a very small number of Ogres could even imitate human speech—like the Old Ogre that Victor and Nicole had killed.

The draconic-blooded monsters were not limited to the blood-kin of Dragons but was a broad term for the descendants of ancient giant beasts. This included Lizardmen, Half-dragons, Fishmen, Bear-monsters, Kobolds, Harpies, and so on… and perhaps the Ant-men should be included as well.

Due to the differences in their vocal organs, the draconic-blooded species could not communicate with one another, and it was even more impossible for humans to learn the languages of other sapient species. Therefore, in the eyes of humans, both the goblinoid and draconic-blooded species were all considered detestable monsters.

Victor also discovered that the Alchemical militia knew the bloodline origin of most sapient species. The Lizardmen and the Hydra Lizards were the blood-kin of the King of the Black Marsh, the Gnolls corresponded to the King of Gluttony, the Centaurs to Mother Earth, the Ogres to the Titans, the dwarves to the Mountain Giants, the Halflings to the Demonic Rat, and the Fishmen to the Lord of Tides.

Each bloodline origin represented an ancient, powerful being, yet the Alchemical militia knew nothing about the origins of four sapient species: humans, elves, Barbarians, and Goblins.

On the surface, there were four major races, but in reality, there were two. Humans could interbreed with both elves and Barbarians, which indicated that the three shared a common origin. There was also no need for the Alchemists to input information about human ancestors into the Will Side of their alchemical creatures. As for the ancestor of the Goblins, that was a complete mystery. Victor guessed that the ancestor of the Goblins was probably just a Goblin.

Of course, this hypothesis overturned the traditional theory that Goblins and Ogres shared a common origin. However, their physiological structures were very similar. They possessed the same internal organs, and the number and shape of their bones were completely identical, the only difference being their size.

There were signs that the difference between Ogres and Goblins was like the difference between Halflings and humans. Ogres had Titan blood, while the Goblins’ ancestor was a mystery. Halflings had Demonic Rat blood, while the ancestor of humans was likewise a mystery. Their physiological structures were as if from the same mold, and neither pair could interbreed… In fact, the difference between barbarians and humans shared the same characteristics, it was just that the bloodline origin of the barbarians was still unknown.

Victor believed that figuring out the origins of the Other Races would help him understand the history of this other world, and in doing so, uncover the secret behind the Alchemical Empire’s demise. Therefore, he paid close attention to matters concerning the Other Races and had even dispatched Paul to the Silver Spire to study the relevant knowledge.

Now, Sophia was claiming that House Elayanuo possessed the blood of an Other Race, and Victor’s interest was instantly piqued.

“The blood of an Other Race? Besides Moon Elves and Barbarians, is there a third Other Race that can interbreed with humans?”

“I don’t know. I’d guess it’s some kind of elf…” Sophia shook her head and said, “It was too long ago. Many ancient families have lost their legacy. Even though their bloodlines have been passed down to this day, no one has recorded their family histories. Just like how you are a blood-scion of the Wimbledon family, yet how many of Wimbledon’s secrets do you really know?”

“Probably not as many as I do…” Sophia muttered, then raised an eyebrow and asked, “Do you want to know?”

“I don’t.” Victor shook his head decisively. “You should tell me about House Elayanuo instead.”

“Let’s talk as we walk.”

Sophia fell silent for a moment, then waved away her attendants. Taking Victor’s arm, she strolled along the woods beside the road.

“The founder of House Elayanuo was a mortal, and their desire for a knight’s bloodline surpassed that of any other family. For a new family wanting to obtain a noble knight’s bloodline, sending beautiful children to be the lovers of a Knight-Noble is undoubtedly the most effective method. House Elayanuo’s pursuit of beauty reached an almost obsessive degree. But this obsession actually stems from a natural bloodline trait.”

“A knight family can only endure for generations if it purifies a main bloodline. There are two ways to purify a bloodline. The first is the natural purification through the interaction of Aura and the void element. Extraordinary Knights and even Pinnacle Knights all fall under natural purification. The second is artificial purification, which is inbreeding. For this reason, some small families practice marriage between cousins, or even closer blood relatives. This is especially common among the isolated island families of the Eastern Alliance. In fact, they have no other choice.

“The ancestors of House Elayanuo didn’t understand this principle, but they were deeply influenced by the marital customs of the eastern families. In their pursuit of beauty, they cultivated an exquisitely beautiful purple-eyed bloodline. After three consecutive generations of inbreeding, the purple-eyed bloodline gradually stabilized, eventually becoming the main bloodline of House Elayanuo. You could say that the rise of House Elayanuo was partly a matter of stumbling upon it by chance, purely an accident.”

“No one knows from which ancient family the purple-eyed bloodline of the Elayanuos originates, but it exhibits unusual bloodline characteristics.” Sophia turned her head and gave a beautiful smile, like a flower in full bloom, its radiance shimmering and dazzling.

Victor shook his head. He finally understood why the little Baron had been so unable to forget Sophia. The influence of a spiritual charm was definitely at play.

“Knight-Nobles are all outstanding in appearance, but the beauty of a noble with the purple-eyed bloodline is a cut above the rest. Even an ordinary female knight possesses a soul-stirring charm, and the beauty of a Silver female knight has an infectious quality on a spiritual level, which is an extraordinary characteristic that only Gold Knights possess…” Sophia tucked a strand of hair from her temple behind her ear and said, “When a Gold Knight likes you, you’ll find her particularly charming… That’s more or less what it means. But the female knights of House Elayanuo can charm humans with their gaze and win their favor… This is clearly a bloodline talent of the Other Races.”

Victor mused, “You keep emphasizing ‘female knight’?”

“Mmm,” Sophia nodded. “The purple-eyed bloodline only manifests in women. The men of House Elayanuo can only inherit their paternal bloodline. This is another of its unusual aspects.”

“Do you know what that means?” Sophia couldn’t help but ask.

Victor squeezed Sophia’s fair, delicate, smooth hand and shook his head. “I won’t make any judgments. You tell me.”

“It means that my son with you would be a pure Wimbledon. In the future, he would either become an elven bloodline noble or a Wind Knight. Our daughter could be a purple-eyed knight or manifest another knight’s bloodline. Now do you understand why the Kingdom of Sus has six Gold Knights?”

Victor sucked in a cold breath. “The mother’s bloodline isn’t passed to the son, so the son is guaranteed to have a pure paternal bloodline. His talent will far surpass the scions of other families.”

“Yes.” Sophia nodded slightly and said slowly, “House Elayanuo has an agreement with the other great families. The purple-eyed female knights never marry out. They become partners with Gold Knights. The first son they bear belongs to the other party, while the second son belongs to House Elayanuo. If a daughter is born, she must still return to the Sus Royal Family. This is mainly to prevent the purple-eyed bloodline from flowing outwards. It’s also for this reason that the Kingdom of Sus is always ruled by a Queen.”

It was a revelation for Victor. He teased, “No wonder Sylvia thinks so highly of you. It turns out you’re a fish that slipped through the net.” Then he asked with confusion, “Since your bloodline is so special, why did the Auguste family fall out with you? You should have become the Queen!”

Sophia shook her head, indicating she didn’t know. She frowned and said, “Perhaps it’s because the Auguste family’s bloodline is particularly strong, and they don’t like the soft, feminine style of the Sus Royal Family. Or perhaps it’s because no purple-eyed female knight has ever stepped into the Pinnacle realm… The Auguste family simply looks down on the purple-eyed bloodline… In any case, it has nothing to do with me.”

The purple-eyed bloodline truly held no attraction for the Auguste family. If the royal family purified a group of oddball sons who all ran off to wander, leaving only a purple-eyed female knight to inherit the throne, that would be a catastrophe.

Victor coughed dryly. “That… you…”

“I will definitely achieve the rank of Gold Knight!” Sophia shot Victor a sideways glance, then let out a breath and said, “The reason it’s so difficult for those with the purple-eyed bloodline to advance is mainly because they are equally unable to resist the temptation of beauty, whether it’s the appearance and bearing of their spouse, their clothes and jewelry, or beautiful scenery… This bloodline trait is close to that of elves, which is why House Elayanuo insists their bloodline originates from another, unknown type of elf.”

Why do I feel like it’s more like a fae, or a succubus, or something… I wonder if fae and succubi even exist in this world? Victor silently complained in his head.

Sophia, unaware that Victor had secretly classified her as a fae, continued, “Marquess Faroul was Fennie’s first lover. At that time, she was just an ordinary knight, but Farul didn’t meet Elayanuo’s aesthetic standards. Fennie gave birth to a daughter and then left Naville. She didn’t see Farul for more than a decade, and by then she had become a Silver Knight. It was naturally impossible for them to become close again.”

“For Cynthia to choose Celine as your partner, you could say she put a great deal of thought into it. Because Celine isn’t an Extraordinary Knight yet, she has a beautiful hope for what love is. That pure emotion, coupled with her natural charm, can always move a person’s heart, can’t it?”

Victor said coolly, “Celine is innocent, but the Queen of Sus is only trying to obtain the Wind Knight’s bloodline. If Celine and I were to develop feelings for each other, only to be forced to part in the end… To be honest, I despise the feeling of being manipulated.”

“As for a family heir with exceptional talent…” Victor stopped walking and said with a faint smile, “Don’t I still have you?”

Sophia pressed her lips together tightly, continuing to walk forward with her arm linked in her husband’s. Victor had lost interest in talking as well. The two walked on in silence for a while before Sophia finally spoke. “My dear, Natalya and I both love the clean and orderly Laketon, the beautiful and grand Silver Moon Manor… Everything here is a crystallization of your hard work. When it comes to love for the Randell Fief, no one can compare to you.”

Victor nodded. “I can understand your feelings for the Wimbledon Merchant Association… I can give you exclusive rights to House of Randell’s clam seasoning powder and bristle brushes, but the exclusive rights to strategic materials are too sensitive. Raw sugar, in particular, can be considered a logistical supply for war… Without Sylvia’s support, if I gave you the exclusive rights to raw sugar, I would have to bear all sorts of pressure alone. For example, the Royal Family demanding that the Nim and Wellington families reduce their procurement of green bricks… Do you think we would risk halting our water project to help you defeat the Borean-backed Southwind Merchant Association?”

Sophia paused for a moment and said, “You need an outstanding heir, and so do I…”

“You are not irreplaceable!”

Victor cut Sophia off, pointing out bluntly, “Not as my spouse, nor as the leader of the Wimbledon Merchant Association!” Then, he softened his voice to console her, “Of course, I’m willing to help you within my abilities. You wanted to unite the caravans of the Kingdom of Sus to jointly resist the Boreans, and didn’t I provide the seasoning formula? The problem is, you have no idea what the Boreans’ trump card is, and the people of Dodor control the trade routes. They want to play both sides, using the conflict between you and the Southwind Merchant Association to reap the greatest benefits. I believe the great lords of Dodor won’t stop until they’ve squeezed every last bit of your wealth.”

Sophia bit her lip. “The Wimbledon Merchant Association is at a disadvantage right now, mainly because the Southwind Merchant Association has the full support of the Kingdom of Borea, while I am isolated and without aid. Just as you assessed, Aerie Fortress surely wants to replace me with a more obedient leader. I’ve thought it through these past two days. To turn the situation around, I must gain the support of the Kingdom of Gambia, not rely on the exclusive rights to raw sugar…”

Victor nodded in approval and smiled. “Very good. Please continue.”

Greatly encouraged, Sophia said with a spirited air, “To get the support of Aerie Fortress, I must first win the support of you and Sylvia. My dear, you’re different from those cold-hearted knight-lords. You and Nicole share a deep bond. I will be your wife in name and your lover in fact, and let Nicole be your wife in fact and your lover in name. I will be loyal only to our partnership. Our son will inherit the House of Randell, and our daughter will inherit my title. Isn’t that a good arrangement?”

Victor remained silent, noncommittal. Sophia continued, “The shareholding system you proposed gave me a great deal of inspiration. I have the Randall family’s goods, I can trade directly with the mountain tribes, and I can give Aerie Fortress forty percent of the merchant association’s shares. What reason would the Auguste family have not to support me? If I can create a commercial family that can be passed down for generations, I can step into the Pinnacle realm, and our bloodline will be the guarantee of our family’s legacy!”

A Gold Knight running a business instead of conquering lands or defending a fief? Would the Church agree? Would your followers agree? Besides, the shareholding system cannot be used to bring in a powerful royal family yet; they would swallow the Golden Company whole… Sophia’s naive ideas left Victor flabbergasted. He advised her:

“The Southwind Merchant Association can get the support of the Borean Royal Family because of their unique system of the Five Great Families ruling in rotation. The Auguste family can clearly monopolize the merchant association’s profits, so why would they let you dictate things? My dear lady, never let an opponent stronger than yourself join your shareholding system. The core members of the association will defect to their side and then sideline you, just like what Catherine did to you.”

“That… I really hadn’t thought about that…” Sophia murmured.

“We’ll deal with future matters in the future.” Victor beckoned for the attendants behind them to bring their mounts. He put his arm around Sophia’s slender waist and said, “You have to accompany Elder Harald back to Raven Town today. I’m afraid you’ll miss the Randell family’s military parade and the Carnival… Settle the barbarians in, and come back as soon as you can. We still have to go to Blinor City to attend Prince Edward’s coronation and have an audience with the new king…”

As he was speaking, a messenger on horseback came galloping from the direction of Laketon. Seeing Victor and Sophia, he immediately dismounted, knelt on one knee, and said breathlessly, “My lord, Grand Duke Williams summons you.”

“What is it?” Victor frowned and gestured for the messenger to rise and speak.

“I don’t know.” The attendant stood up and replied, “The Grand Duke Williams’s Guardian Knight instructed that my lord should return to Silver Moon Manor as soon as possible for an audience with His Highness the Grand Duke.”

Victor pondered for a moment, then turned to Sophia with a smile. “My dear, it seems I can’t see you and Elder Harald off.”

Sophia nodded and said softly, “What do you think it is?”

Victor smiled faintly. “Sylvia is overseeing things at Silver Moon Manor. What else could it be? Williams and Roland originally planned to leave after watching the military parade… I estimate they’ve had a last-minute change of plans and are returning to Aerie Fortress now.”

Chapter 363: Horror

As Victor had expected, by the time he and his entourage arrived at Silver Moon Manor, Williams was already prepared to depart.

On the road outside the manor gates, a long procession of carriages snaked into the distance. An exquisitely crafted white carriage sat in the middle of the procession. Its body was oval-shaped, its walls inscribed with the elegant motif of a golden-crowned roc. The beast pulling it was a powerful, six-legged Swift Dragon, and tethered behind the carriage was a unicorn. It lay on the ground, lazily licking its sharp foreclaws, its golden fur gleaming so brightly in the sunlight that it looked like a great lion cast from gold.

This unicorn had been a gift to Sophia from Neowist when she passed through the Randt Empire, but Roland had later traded a Swift Dragon for it. It was now Roland’s pet, and as a result, its majestic golden mane had been plaited into several ridiculous braids, tied with silk ribbons in the shape of bows.

Roland wouldn’t have done something so boring on her own; it was the joint masterpiece of her and Beldina.

Few people dared to approach the massive aberrant war beast, even if it was well-trained.

Beldina was the exception. After the little girl repeatedly tried to stroke the unicorn, her adorable appearance caught Roland’s eye. In less than fifteen minutes, little Bel had become the princess’s new favorite. For the next two days, they ate and lived together. At the grand feast in Silver Moon Manor, Roland and Beldina sat at the same table, their mouths slick with grease, overjoyed. It was clear to everyone that Roland Auguste was extremely fond of Beldina.

Victor heard the faint sound of someone eating from within the princess’s carriage, and he hesitated.

According to etiquette, even if the princess was in a hurry to return to the Royal Capital, she should first receive the salutations of the local lord. However, Roland couldn’t be measured by common sense, and Victor wasn’t the least bit surprised that she was hiding in her carriage eating. What he was worried about was that she might have abducted the little foodie.

Roland had clearly offered to adopt Beldina, even proposing to pay Victor an inducement fee. Fortunately, at the banquet, after Williams admitted that the delicacies of Aerie Fortress couldn’t compare to the dishes of the House of Randell, Bel deliberated for a long time and ultimately declined to follow the princess.

Of course, even if Bel hadn’t been able to resist Roland’s temptation, Victor wouldn’t have let her go.

Beldina’s father, Imosen, was a Wizard capable of forming a powerful army from rats and lizards. Moreover, Beldina was utterly charming to all, and Victor, having spent so much time with her, had already developed a bond with her akin to that of a father or older brother.

Victor truly couldn’t bear to part with the little foodie and give her to Roland as an attendant.

Victor pulled on his reins, dismounted his Swiftbird, and walked toward the princess’s carriage. Four Guardian Knights stepped forward to meet him, led by a high-ranking female knight in a suit of Mithril armor. She reached out a hand to stop him.

“Countess Ashala, is Her Highness in the carriage?” Victor asked politely.

Roland’s female knight retainer, her pretty face a cold mask, replied indifferently, “The princess is not here!”

“I can hear Her Highness in the carriage. You know my hearing is particularly sharp.”

A standard noble’s smile hung on Victor’s face. He pointed to his ear and continued forward. Just as he was about to brush against the female knight’s arm, Roland’s voice came from inside the carriage. “Ashala, let him come over.”

The female knight stepped aside. The curtain of the carriage window was drawn open from within, and Victor saw Roland’s incomparably beautiful face.

“Your Highness, are you returning already?” Victor took a step forward and bowed respectfully, listening carefully for any sounds from within the carriage. Hearing no second heartbeat, he let out a silent sigh of relief.

“Yes,” Roland said coolly. “Lord Randall, I’m feeling a bit unwell, so I’ve decided to leave early.” With that, she immediately drew the curtain closed.

“Uh…” Victor was at a total loss, frozen to the spot.

“Well… Your Highness, you… I mean, the Grand Duke has summoned me. I will go see him now,” Victor stammered before scurrying toward the manor under Ashala’s watchful gaze.

A Gold Knight, feeling unwell? Roland’s deadpan expression was what was truly unsettling… Victor pursed his lips. Her distant attitude left him feeling a little disappointed.

As he entered the manor gates, a court attendant approached, bowed to Victor, and said in a low voice, “Lord Randall, please follow me. His Highness is waiting for you up ahead.”

Victor nodded and followed the attendant down a tree-lined path. The attendant stopped and turned. “Lord Randall, His Highness Grand Duke Williams wishes to see you alone.”

“Wait for me here,” Victor said, giving Gru, the Captain of his Personal Guard, a meaningful look before walking alone into the depths of the woods.

The dense canopy blocked the scorching sun, leaving the forest dimly lit. The air was cool and damp, filled with the faint, decaying scent of fallen leaves.

Victor’s Super Sense talent was fully active, and not a single blade of grass stirred within a 360-meter radius without his keen ears detecting it. He followed the green brick path for a short distance and heard a slow, powerful heartbeat 60 meters away. He stopped in his tracks as X-3 screened the sounds around the heartbeat, confirming there were no other medium-sized or larger creatures before he ambled forward.

Rounding a bend, Victor saw the tall, handsome figure of Grand Duke Williams standing beneath an iron oak tree.

“Victor, it is courageous of you to come and see a peak Silver Knight alone, but it is not a good habit.” Williams turned, a kind smile on his face.

Victor bowed first, then chose his words carefully. “An Extraordinary Knight still has a heartbeat and breath when not manifesting the void. I am certain that there are no other people or aberrant war beasts nearby. If a Silver Knight were to use void elements to evade my Perception… this location is approximately 2,100 meters from the lord’s residence. While that is beyond a Gold Knight’s sensory range, it does not include Sylvia. She could be here in seventeen breaths (thirty-five seconds). Most importantly, I understand my own capabilities well enough.”

Williams was taken aback for a moment, then shook his head with a wry smile. “A Spirit Knight can manifest the three void elements of earth, wind, and water simultaneously. Their power is despair-inducing… and you are indeed capable of surviving for twenty breaths against a peak Silver Knight.”

“Your Highness, I believe you’ve misunderstood…” Victor said with a calm expression.

Misunderstood? Are you trying to say you can escape the pursuit of a peak Silver Knight at close range, or do you think you can actually defeat one?

Williams studied Victor for a moment before offering a tactful warning, “Victor, I believe in your strength. However, an Earth Knight who can resonate with thirty-six Elemental Nodes is different from a Knight who has just stepped into the extraordinary realm. You must not be careless.”

Silver Knights who could resonate with thirty-six Elemental Nodes were known as Earth Knights, Raging Wave Knights, or Gale Knights, depending on their elemental affinity.

Williams himself was a peak Silver Knight, and he knew all too well how terrifying an Earth Knight could be.

An Earth Knight manifests the void earth element, massively boosting their strength, defense, and elemental resistance. Within a one-meter radius, they can also form a force field that slows an enemy’s movements and allows the Knight to briefly change direction in mid-air, with an explosively fast burst of speed.

A Raging Wave Knight’s force field, while not as condensed as an Earth Knight’s, has a radius of over two meters. It is incredibly resilient and versatile. It can seep into an opponent’s body to slow their blood flow, or it can be condensed into a mass to strike enemies within six meters, dealing both kinetic and elemental damage that causes bruises and frostbite.

Gale Knights have no force field, which is precisely why they would never engage an Earth Knight or a Raging Wave Knight in close combat. However, a Gale Knight’s perception is second to none, their speed is ghostly, and their attacks are razor-sharp, excellent at piercing armor, and carry an electrical effect. A Gale Knight hiding in the shadows can make an enemy smell death without even making a move.

Williams understood Knights, but he did not understand Wind Walk Archers, nor did he know that Victor was no longer the man he once was.

Victor’s current Elemental Attributes were: Physique 9, Spirit 14, Perception 25, Life 25.

Extraordinary Agility Talent: Victor was nimble, with a strong sense of balance and astounding speed, allowing him to move at high speed and shoot or fight in complex environments.

Dim Vision: With only moonlight, Victor could see as well as an ordinary Knight in broad daylight. In the absence of moonlight, his vision was comparable to a Nightblade Panther’s.

Extraordinary Perception Talent: Victor could clearly see a mouse from 1,200 meters away and hear a normal human conversation from 600 meters. The closer the distance, the clearer his perception. In an open environment, the heartbeat of a peak Silver Knight within 60 meters would not escape his ears.

Blind Sense Talent: The void wind elements within a 2.5-meter diameter maintained a spiritual connection with Victor, allowing him to perceive his surroundings without sight, sound, or smell.

Wind Walk Talent: A gentle breeze enveloped Victor’s body, and could also be applied to any object, drastically reducing air resistance. This made him as light as a swallow, with a top speed of 34 meters per second. The point-blank range of his longbow was 350 meters, and his sonic arrows had power comparable to a Standard Battle Crossbow, yet they were silent. Beyond 350 meters, the arrow’s flight speed and penetration power gradually decreased, and it would produce sound. The maximum arcing range of his greatbow was 1,200 meters, with power comparable to a heavy crossbow, but it was easily dodged.

Currently, Wind Walk could be sustained for a maximum of 71 minutes, with a cooldown of 327 seconds. If not used continuously, this talent could be considered passive.

Azure Blade: This was Victor’s combat technique for manifesting void elements. It could be used for both melee and ranged attacks and was his most powerful offensive tool. The longer the Azure Blade was a condensed, the greater its power. The shortest condensation time was originally 2.3 seconds, with a maximum of 6.8 seconds, and he could form up to ten blades. Now, the shortest time was 1.6 seconds, the longest was 11.7 seconds, and he could form up to thirty-two blades. The Azure Blade inflicted both piercing and electrical damage and had a paralyzing effect. When attached to an arrow, it could create a cavitating effect. As a purely elemental attack, it had a range of 11 meters and could pierce an enemy’s chest. Any unarmored being below the Silver-rank would be killed instantly upon being hit.

Activation Talent: This stimulated the water elements in his body, nourishing him, relieving muscle fatigue, and rapidly repairing damage to his bones and internal organs. His stamina and vigor were reborn, and all his talents were reactivated.

The Activation talent gave Victor the capital to contend with high-ranked Knights. Although his body was still fragile, his stamina had greatly increased, allowing him to run for 200 kilometers at a speed of 70 kilometers per hour in one go.

In fact, there was no longer any difference between Victor and a Gale Knight, but he still had three trump cards.

The first trump card was the Life Concealment of the Golden Toad Mystic Form. In this state, Victor became one with nature. His Super Sense and Blind Sense were enhanced by fifty percent, and his killing intent was completely masked, greatly weakening the wild instincts of ferocious creatures. When Victor had locked onto the Silver-rank Narsen, Narsen sensed a threat but couldn’t determine the direction of the danger. This meant Victor could ambush most creatures, including a peak Silver Knight.

Most critically, Life Concealment allowed Victor to rapidly recover his stamina and vigor, making it remarkably similar to his Activation talent. Victor believed that as long as he continued to practice the Golden Toad Mystic Form, one day he would be able to transform his Activation talent into the Surge talent. His strength, physique, and self-healing abilities would then reach the level of a Raging Wave Knight.

Aside from the water element force field, the combination of a Gale Knight and a Raging Wave Knight was the ultimate destination for a Wind Walk Archer.

The second trump card was Victor’s core ability—X-3.

X-3 was supposedly a bio-chip, but it was actually a new functional area of his brain. It gave Victor meticulous control over his body and a calculation speed twenty times that of an ordinary person, allowing him to grasp and digitize changes in temperature, humidity, pressure, light, space, and time. This meant Victor could memorize his surroundings at a glance and then sprint through them with his eyes closed without getting lost. He could precisely calculate the movement speed of objects, and combined with his fine control over his body, it was equivalent to having the two talents of Dynamic Vision and Lightning Reflexes.

Furthermore, X-3 had the function of timely augmentation and filtering of external information. Back during the rainstorm, Victor had used X-3 to filter out useless, noisy sounds, relying on the echo of raindrops hitting the Ant-men to form an image of the Ant-man chief in his mind, lock onto its position, and kill it with a single arrow the moment it turned its head. Of course, this ability required the coordination of Life Concealment to be used.

Imagine a confrontation between Victor and a Gale Knight in a dense forest. Whoever was discovered first would die. Victor could swiftly filter out environmental interference, perceive and augment useful information. The outcome of such a contest was a foregone conclusion.

X-3’s most remarkable ability was to command and optimize all his other talents, allowing them to reach their maximum potential. In this state, everything seemed to slow down. Victor called it Apocalypse.

The stronger his talents, the stronger Apocalypse became. With his current talents, Victor feared no challenge from any Silver Knight. This had been verified.

Sylvia was Victor’s greatest trump card. She was the flame, the earth, the gale, the raging wave. She would not allow Victor to die at the hands of any Knight, not even a Gold Knight.

Probably no one besides Victor had ever been trained by three different types of Gold Knights simultaneously. Sylvia didn’t expect Victor to be able to defeat a Gold Knight; she only wanted her lover to be able to escape a Gold Knight’s pursuit. After hundreds of sparring sessions, Victor had unknowingly come to stand at the very pinnacle of the Silver-rank.

There was no need to broadcast this matter. Victor was just surprised that Williams was so concerned for his safety.

“Your Highness, I will take your warning to heart,” Victor said respectfully.

Williams nodded in satisfaction and said, “Strength and power are two completely different concepts. ‘Powerful’ is praise for the living; a dead man is just a dead man, no matter how strong he was. Back then, Sword Saint Draven dominated an entire era, yet he vanished without a trace at the same time Empress Verotica fell. And because of that, a feud formed between the legendary paladin Alijie and the Baselius family.”

Victor was horrified. He stared at Williams and said coldly, “Your Highness, what are you talking about?”

Chapter 364: The Full Story

Strictly speaking, a Grand Duke is not a title of nobility, but a position, one corresponding to the second in line to the throne.

The royal families with powerful Bloodlines always found themselves in the predicament of difficult childbirth. To maintain the purity of the royal bloodline and to avoid a multitude of descendants with weaker bloodlines vying for the throne, the King would rather have fewer children than produce them indiscriminately. They would typically wait until they had resonated with thirty-six Elemental Nodes before beginning to produce heirs.

With such a long span of time, what would happen if the throne had no heir?

The royal system had arranged for everything. For the sake of political stability, after a new King ascended the throne, he would designate one of his siblings as the second-in-line heir, bestowing upon them the title of Grand Duke of the kingdom. Therefore, the King did not need to rush to have children; his younger brother or sister was the heir to the throne.

The Grand Duke’s right of succession and title were not hereditary. When the King’s eldest son inherited the throne, the King’s second son would assume the position of Grand Duke. The former Grand Duke would be enfeoffed as a Court Duke, and his claim to the throne would automatically be moved to third in line. However, neither the title of Court Duke nor the third position in the line of succession could be passed down to their descendants.

Thus, the Grand Duke was a backup plan for the succession, colloquially known as the “spare.”

Williams was just such a spare.

The King had no power to depose the Grand Duke he himself had appointed. Only when the King’s eldest son inherited the throne would the former Grand Duke pass the title and the second right of succession to the King’s second son.

The late King Ryan had once wanted to make Edward the first heir, which violated the system of royal succession. But rules serve politics, and if the King were a Gold Knight, his authority would be unshakeable. However, Ryan’s proposal was met with strong opposition from two family elders. It wasn’t that they were speaking up for Williams; it was mainly because Edward was still young and had not yet displayed extraordinary knightly talent. Marquess Golan and Wizard Tofwen wanted to wait and see… what if Roland changed her mind again?

Williams, for his part, was not particularly concerned.

The direct descendants of the Auguste family had wide-ranging interests and valued family affection more than power; not all of them wanted to be king. His elder brother Ryan was a Gold Knight with a long life ahead of him, and the Princess Royal, Roland, possessed outstanding talent. As Williams saw it, the crown would never fall to him.

Williams was happy to be idle, spending his days traveling around with his wife and children, living a very pleasant life. If not for Marquess Golan’s strenuous opposition, Williams would have been willing to publicly declare his support for his brother’s wish to make Edward the first heir. However, a sudden turn of events thrust him into the eye of the storm.

Neowist, under the pretext of punishing rebels, invaded the three eastern provinces of Gambis. Ryan was unfortunately killed in battle, and Gambis’s main legions were tied down by the Dodor. Roland led the Glory Knights deep into the Randt Empire’s territory, winning victory after victory and blunting the charge of the Unicorn Knights. But she had advanced too far alone, and her looting and slaughter of two small towns incurred the dissatisfaction of the Church.

The situation in the Kingdom of Gambia suddenly became perilous. Williams had no time for grief; he had to shoulder the responsibilities of the Grand Duke of Gambis.

Williams noticed that Neowist had delayed in personally intercepting the Glory Knights. He surmised this might be because Sylvia’s intentions were unclear; the York family had not colluded with Neowist beforehand.

He acted decisively. First, he ordered the lord’s armies assembled at Deepwater City to retreat to a major stronghold in the center of the kingdom. Then, he went alone into Fanged City and reached an agreement with the York family, after which Sylvia led the Fanged Legion to extract Roland’s Glory Knights. Subsequently, the Dodor Kingdom, the Kingdom of Naville, the Kingdom of Ayr, and the Church intervened to mediate. In the end, the three earls who had betrayed the imperial family were executed by Neowist’s order, and the three eastern provinces and the York Fief became part of the Randt Empire’s territory. Sylvia moved her entire clan to the Centaur Hills. The crisis in Gambis was alleviated, but dark clouds still loomed over the Auguste family’s head.

Williams’s first moment in the spotlight was commendable, not only earning him the respect of the great lords but also clarifying his own path forward.

In handling the crisis, Williams clearly felt the malice directed at Gambis from all sides. He was enraged and anxious, yet at the same time excited and full of fighting spirit. A force surged forth endlessly from the depths of his heart.

For a Knight, reaching the pinnacle was not the goal, much less the end. A Knight could not be a slave to power, or they would be assimilated by the Elemental Sea. For the descendants of the Auguste family, power was the same.

Royal authority had never been a shackle for the Auguste bloodline, but a kind of pleasure born from responsibility—the pleasure of the struggle.

Ryan had aspired to be a great monarch. Roland wanted to be a commander, a Bard, a Ranger, an adventurer, a mercenary… She had too many ideals. And Williams, in his battle of wits and courage against various forces, found his own pleasure and his path forward.

You want a weakened Auguste? I will make Auguste strong! This was Grand Duke Williams’s determination and pursuit.

Williams believed that as long as he strove in this direction, he too could reach the pinnacle.

To realize his ideals, he first had to obtain power. Williams felt he was doing quite well. He used the lands of the Centaur Hills to gain the support of Spirit Knights, suppressed the Randt Emperor’s ambitions, and stabilized the political situation in Gambis. He used the prestige gained from resolving the crisis to win over the regional lords and the nobles of the Royal Capital, vying with Catherine for control of the kingdom. He then used the exasperated Queen to suppress the aggressive York family.

The Ant-man invasion of the Centaur Hills deprived the York family of the ability to sit on the mountain and watch the tigers fight. Under pressure, Williams and Catherine shifted from conflict to cooperation, and he became the Regent of Gambis, just as he had hoped.

The Regent exercised the King’s authority. If Edward wanted to come of age and rule in his own right, he would first have to become a Silver-rank Great Knight to even have the right to challenge the Regent. By that time, Williams might have already stepped into the Gold realm. Of course, if Edward displayed outstanding political talent, Williams wouldn’t mind assisting his brother’s son.

However, the York family’s inflated ego, born from the Spirit Knights, remained an unstable factor.

Williams, however, believed that as long as it was handled properly, there was nothing to worry about. An arrogant York family would, on the contrary, compel the major lords to be subservient to Aerie Fortress.

The Centaur Hills were rich in refined iron resources. Before the York family had completed its stockpile of refined iron, they were unwilling to sell the ore externally. Williams used this as an opportunity, secretly demanding that the major lords raise prices to restrict the flow of goods into the Centaur Hills, forcing the York family to sell refined iron at a low price, with Aerie Fortress serving as the lords’ powerful backer.

This was in the interests of the lords, so the leaders of the great families naturally followed Williams’s instructions to the letter.

The plan was to empty every last gold coin from the York family’s pockets, guide refugee laborers into the Centaur Hills to build fortresses and infrastructure, and keep the York family’s material reserves at a consistently low level. Neither well-fed nor starving, the York family would become heavily dependent on the Royal Family both economically and politically, and could only obediently serve as Gambis’s barrier against the ant swarm.

Although the Centaur Hills had a twenty-year tax-free period, Aerie Fortress’s think tank believed that with this policy in place, the York family would not be able to recover for thirty years.

But the reality was astonishing. The York family raised pigs, popularized ground-potatoes, and implemented deep plowing and careful cultivation methods, achieving self-sufficiency in just four years. They also invented the giant brick kiln, digging earth to make bricks and funding the canals with the sale of bricks, constructing an unprecedented water project. They seized the opportunity to create the Briart Commercial Fief and introduced the Spiked Kidney Bean, and the Wellington family immediately raised the white flag. The Church greatly praised the York family’s grand feat of building waterworks, providing one million Gold Sol in funds. Williams’s blockade policy was declared a complete failure.

Sylvia also hinted that Williams had instigated Austin’s plot to murder Viscount Randell, which put Williams on the defensive politically. Roland seized the opportunity, effortlessly breaking the stalemate between the Grand Duke and the Queen and pushing Edward onto the throne. Marquess Golan had no choice but to abandon his idea of forcing Roland to take the throne, as both he and Williams were undeniably culpable in this matter.

More than three years ago, Raymond, the heir of the Peter family, had sent “The Throat-slitter” to assassinate nobles with elven bloodline. Williams wanted to seize the opportunity to assassinate Victor. Although Marquess Golan stopped the Night Owl’s assassination attempt, he did not warn Sylvia, choosing instead to wait and see what would happen. He, too, wouldn’t have minded if Viscount Randell had been killed by “The Throat-slitter.”

On the surface, Williams was doing it to secure a Marquessate for Soren Wimbledon, but in reality, both he and Golan knew very well that it was just an excuse.

The Centaur Hills achieving self-sufficiency and the failure of the economic blockade was merely a minor setback for the Auguste family. If one looked at the problem from a different angle, it might not necessarily be a bad thing.

After the tax-free period ended, of the more than one hundred million mu of cultivated land developed by the York family, the output of twenty million mu would belong to the Royal Family. The more pigs, cattle, sheep, and horses the York family raised, the greater Aerie Fortress’s profits would be. As for strategic resources like Purple Cane wine, raw sugar, and refined iron ore, the Auguste family would also take a twenty-percent share. The Centaur Hills could also absorb Gambis’s surplus population.

Most importantly, the York family had a fatal flaw.

The bloodline of a Spirit Knight could not be passed down. The York family’s prosperity could last for a century at most. Without a noble bloodline, a family lacked a unifying force. Without a Gold Bloodline, the York family was not fit to occupy such a fertile territory. Williams could foresee that after Sylvia’s demise, Duke Enbise’s line would find it difficult to suppress its rapidly strengthening vassal families. Neither appeasement nor force would resolve the family’s internal conflicts. Because their bloodlines were the same, with no distinction between primary and secondary, high and low, the suzerain family held no attraction for its vassal lords.

At that time, with just a gentle push from the Auguste family, the York family would be knocked back to their original state. That was why Sylvia was particularly fond of Sophia; she hoped Sophia’s purple-eyed bloodline could preserve a part of her legacy.

Williams snorted at this. So what if Sophia advanced to Gold Knight? The purple-eyed bloodline was still the purple-eyed bloodline. The purple-eyed bloodline strengthened the paternal bloodline, but its own potential was limited.

House Elayanuo appeared glorious on the surface, but in essence, they were a breeding tool for the six great ducal families of Sus. Queen Cynthia dreamed of replacing the main bloodline, but the six great ducal families of Sus would not allow it. Otherwise, why had Queen Cynthia been unable to have a child with her elven-blooded lover? Why was her lover assassinated? Williams would never believe that the six ducal families hadn’t secretly intervened.

The York family had produced a Gold Knight several hundred years ago, but how many different paternal bloodlines did they have now?

Williams could afford to be indifferent to the purple-eyed bloodline, but he could not be indifferent to Wimbledon’s ancient bloodline. When Night Owl discovered Victor was a Wind Walk Archer, both Williams and Marquess Golan had murderous intent toward him. The only difference was that Williams was willing to take a risk, while Marquess Golan was more cautious.

No one had anticipated that Victor, this newly-promoted Wind Walk Archer, would actually have a fire element affinity. He could be the second Sword Saint! Archbishop Lazarus, representing the Radiant Knights and the Curia, warned Aerie Fortress: the Church did not want to see any power assassinate Viscount Randell.

The reason was simple. Victor was on very good terms with Father Miller. If he truly could become a Sword Saint, the Church might be able to ask for his help in the future to deal with the beastmen chiefs in the Northern Wildlands.

Regardless of whether Victor could become the second Draven, his bloodline was no different from a Gold Bloodline. It could be said that Victor had filled the York family’s greatest flaw. One only needed to look at Sylvia’s transformed state to know how joyful she was.

An attendant trained by Catherine at Aerie Fortress had now become a core member of the York family. Williams’s frustration was imaginable.

Fortunately, Roland and her brother had been close to Victor since childhood. Williams immediately changed his attitude, striving to make Victor the link connecting the Auguste family to the York family. In fact, the political landscape of Gambis had stabilized because of Victor.

The Kingdom of Borea offered the formula for the Bloodlust potion on the condition that Gambis announce Sophia’s death. Williams rejected it without a second thought. If Victor gained the freedom to marry, it would mean the legal connection to Aerie Fortress was severed. This would surely break the current balance, which was extremely unfavorable for the Auguste family.

As for the Bloodlust potion formula, Wizard Tofwen had already deduced it from a sample of the potion. What right did the Kingdom of Borea have to make demands of Aerie Fortress?

Williams and Marquess Golan were in agreement: Sophia’s title of Marchioness should not be revoked, but the wealth she had transferred must be confiscated.

However, events took another major turn.

On the eve of Williams’s reception for Sophia and the barbarians, Queen Catherine revealed a shocking secret.

Victor was an experimental subject of Aerie Fortress’s chief wizard, Tofwen, in an attempt to recreate the Sword Saint bloodline. His human bloodline had been locked by a potion. He could only procreate after the age of sixty-five, or with the help of a female knight who had taken a specific potion to help him activate his human bloodline prematurely. And Catherine herself was that very female knight who had taken the Fertility Potion.

Upon hearing this, Williams was both shocked and overjoyed.

He was shocked that Catherine’s machinations ran so deep, that she had been hiding such a trump card! When she played this card, the Grand Duke’s Faction would be utterly defeated, with no chance of a comeback.

Catherine’s foundation was shallow, and Edward’s succession to the throne was not entirely legitimate. Apart from Roland and the Wellington family, most people were not optimistic about Edward. If Marquess Golan had given up on Roland and switched his support to the Grand Duke, Catherine would have used Victor as a condition to persuade Sylvia to change her stance and support Prince Edward’s succession. She herself would also secure a descendant with a powerful bloodline for the Tyrell family. This child would not only elevate the Tyrell family’s political status but also be closely linked to Victor. This was the guarantee of Sylvia’s long-term support for Edward.

He was overjoyed because, by re-scheming around this secret, Victor would inevitably return to the embrace of the Auguste family. With the York family having lost Victor, their desire to stand on equal footing with the Auguste family would be nothing more than a daydream.

In his surprise and delight, Williams immediately sought out Wizard Tofwen to verify the matter. The family elder revealed even more details to him.

When little Victor manifested his Moon Elf bloodline, his father wanted to sell him to the Sus Royal Family for a high price. But the northern counties had always been the territory of the Auguste family. How could a young noble with an elven bloodline in Minsk County escape the notice of Night Owl? It just so happened that Sylvia’s identity as a Spirit Knight was exposed, and the York family’s outer vassals were becoming restless. Tofwen decided to cultivate a Sword Saint to counter the impact of the Spirit Knight. If it succeeded, that would be for the best. If it failed, he would send an elven-blooded noble to comfort the lonely Spirit Knight.

An elven-blooded noble was the best companion for a high-ranking female knight. Placing Victor by Sylvia’s side could influence at least three of the York family’s Silver-rank female knights. However, he couldn’t just be given away openly, or Sylvia would surely kill him. Tofwen set his sights on Sophia. Thus, the old wizard and Ryan used Catherine to first send Victor to be Sophia’s husband.

The experiment did not achieve the desired results, so Tofwen decided to implement the second plan. The Night Owl spy, Amy May, following his instructions, suggested that Sophia give Victor to Sylvia.

Things progressed very smoothly. At the appropriate time, Night Owl would use the Fertility Potion to activate Victor, this pawn, and have him continue to influence the high-ranking female knights of the York family. Tofwen also hadn’t expected Victor’s Moon Elf bloodline to awaken even further.

Tofwen emphasized that Victor’s potential was now limitless, making him a pivotal figure. The family must change its strategy and strive to win his favor. If necessary, they could cooperate with Sylvia to strip Sophia of her title of Marchioness and allow her to return to Victor’s side. This would not only divert the pressure from the Radiant Knights’ diplomacy concerning the barbarians but also serve as a gesture of goodwill to Sylvia. If one day Victor were to return to Aerie Fortress and Sophia were still by Sylvia’s side, as long as their marriage remained intact, Sylvia would not turn against the Auguste family even if she learned the truth.

Williams was in absolute awe of the family elder’s profound foresight and planning. Catherine’s intrigues were child’s play in comparison.

Now, Victor was right before him. All Williams had to do was plant a seed in his heart ahead of time!

Chapter 365: The Thief Princess

“The sudden disappearance of Draven Wimbledon remains an unsolved mystery to this day.”

With a smile, Grand Duke Williams said to Victor, “Although you are a descendant of Wimbledon, I fear you know little of your ancestor’s deeds.”

Victor shrugged. “All that’s left of the Wimbledons today is an ancient name and a diluted bloodline. There wasn’t a single book in my father’s study… And while the study at Silver Moon Manor is also bookless, at least my personal handmaiden records the family’s trivial affairs every day, like how the warehouse received eight thousand seven hundred and forty-three goose eggs today. Perhaps I should compile all this into a book for the future generations of the House of Randell, so they can appreciate the hardships their ancestors faced in pioneering the fief.”

I’m talking to you about the secrets of a Sword Saint, and you’re talking to me about goose eggs… Williams roared internally, but his face wore an appreciative smile. He nodded and said, “That is a fine idea… that is how a family’s legacy is built. The Auguste family’s scribes have always spared no effort in collecting historical secrets and recording contemporary events. It’s no exaggeration to say that our understanding of the Sword Saint certainly surpasses that of the York family. Victor, with your current standing, you should pay attention to some of the historical secrets that circulate only among the great nobility. The descendants of the House of Randell would be proud of it.”

So he is after something. I’ll just listen and see what he has up his sleeve… Victor bowed slightly and said, “Your Highness, I am all ears.”

Victor’s composed demeanor gave Williams a sense of frustration. He knew he was being too obvious, but he still said after a moment’s thought, “Regarding the Sword Saint’s whereabouts, there are two different accounts. The Baselius family claims that their Sword Saint ancestor, heartbroken by the demise of Empress Veronica, secluded himself in the Endless Forest to search for the legendary Elven Royal Court. They even have a personal letter from the Sword Saint as proof. However, the Paladin Alijie Testeel believed that Veronica, out of jealousy, murdered Draven. Because Draven had once promised Alijie that after the empress’s demise, he would spend the rest of his life with her.”

“Gold Knights can feel jealousy?” Victor asked, somewhat amused.

“High-ranked Knights are merely skilled at controlling their emotions; they still feel jealousy,” Williams said with a smile. “I personally agree with the Baselius family’s version. According to the records of the Ivory Sanctum, after the age of one hundred and thirty, Draven’s elven characteristics became fully apparent. He was peerlessly handsome, with long, pointed ears, and his eyes constantly shone with a golden light. He had completely transformed into an elf.”

“There are many kinds of elves. Everyone thought the Moon Elves who married into the Wimbledon family were elven royalty, but Draven’s golden hair and eyes suggest that there are even nobler elves above the Moon Elves. Perhaps they are the true elven royalty. In contrast to the Moon Elves, scholars refer to His Majesty Draven as a Sun Elf.”

“Regardless, His Majesty Draven is considered the last elf in the human world. Living among other races, surrounded by curious gazes, would not be pleasant for anyone. The demise of his lover weakened Draven’s connection to the human world. Coupled with the influence of his bloodline’s nature, it is perfectly reasonable that he would leave the Iron Mountain Empire and enter the Endless Forest to seek out his own kind.”

Reasonable? It seemed reasonable on the surface, but from a lord’s perspective, this explanation was far too shallow.

In Huaxian history, a great ruler once said, “A weak son and a powerful mother will surely bring chaos to the court.” Then he cruelly killed his own wife, which in turn ushered in a political situation of “a weak monarch and strong subjects”… It was no wonder Alijie believed Veronica had taken her husband with her at the moment of her demise.

The new empire rose from the ruins of the old dynasty, a process that involved a struggle for supremacy among various warlords. The Legendary Ogre King Vol’gan delivered the final blow to the crumbling Anz Empire. The Baselius family was able to rise above the other powerful lords and found the Iron Mountain Empire entirely thanks to the Spirit Knight Veronica and the Sword Saint Draven.

Before her demise, Queen Veronica faced a very thorny problem. Although her husband was a Ranger by birth, he had become a Prince of the Iron Mountain Empire, and the declining Wimbledon family had rallied under his banner once more. Her son and daughter were Legendary Knights, true, but they were far inferior to their father in terms of strength, lifespan, bloodline, and influence. And besides Veronica, Draven had three other Gold Knight spouses.

So, who held the legitimate claim to the Iron Mountain Empire? Baselius or Wimbledon?

Whether Draven died at the hands of the Spirit Knight or vanished into the Endless Forest, his disappearance secured the supreme status of the Baselius family, while the Wimbledons struggled for a few hundred years before once again dissolving into scattered fragments.

Williams is implying that if the York family founds a kingdom, Sylvia and I will repeat the tragedy of the Sword Saint and the Ironmountain Empress. If you think you can sow discord between Sylvia and me with that, you’re far too naive… I’m not a Sun Elf… besides, Sylvia and I can still spend more than seventy years together, which is equivalent to a century on Earth… In such a long time, my real rivals will probably have emerged long before then. Who can say for certain what the future holds? Maybe I’ll be the one who needs Sylvia to save me.

In a flash, Victor understood Williams’s true intentions and couldn’t help but sneer inwardly. Outwardly, however, he said, “Thank you, Your Highness, for sharing this secret with me.”

You may not think much of it now, but when everyone assumes you’re infertile and the York family disdains you, your thoughts will change… Williams thought to himself. Changing the subject, he said, “Victor, you are the lord of Aerie Fortress, but it’s a pity you’ve had so little time for education. We have a responsibility to teach you the heraldry of the Auguste family. In fact, we have been watching you. You activated the Wind Walk talent while helping Baron Eskri eliminate the Gnoll bandits. You created the work point system, reclaimed the freemen’s fortified village in the Randell Fief, brewed Purple Cane wine, produced raw sugar, coffee, and Snow Sugar, and even invented cream. We learned of all these things as soon as they happened.”

“A few months ago, the Kingdom of Borea prepared lavish gifts, hoping Aerie Fortress would announce Sophia’s death and cut off her line of retreat. I refused…” Williams paused, then continued, “The Wimbledons are one of the five great Court Marquesses of Gambis, possessing a hereditary fief of nearly eight-thousand square kilometers in the northern counties. Your father was also a baronial vassal of Wimbledon. Sophia holds the title of Marchioness Wimbledon, but she has no loyalty whatsoever to Aerie Fortress; she is not a true Court Marquess. Aerie Fortress has no obligation to protect her. The reason I tolerated her, and even allowed her to transfer her fortune of four and a half million Gold Sol to the Centaur Hills, was mainly out of consideration for your feelings. I have already made this clear to Sophia.”

Most of Gambis’s independent lords came from the court nobility, but this did not include the York family, the Joshua family, the Wellington family, the Nim family, or House Sorim. In fact, the peripheral lords of the five great houses had originally been court nobles invested by Aerie Fortress.

Although independent lords would eventually gravitate towards the great families and become their peripheral lords, that was a matter for several generations later.

The first few generations of independent lords were politically, economically, and militarily dependent on Aerie Fortress. Their relationship with the Royal Family was very close, and they were inevitably bound to follow Aerie Fortress’s instructions to hinder the great families now and then—for instance, by cutting off trade routes, providing logistical support for the Swift Dragon Knights, or even assisting with military expeditions.

For someone like Victor to align himself with the York family right after becoming an independent lord was tantamount to betraying Aerie Fortress. Although Victor was not the man he used to be, Aerie Fortress would not give up a fortune of several million Gold Sol for his sake. Not even Sylvia had that much sway.

What a joke. Aerie Fortress would love nothing more than for the York family to be dirt poor.

“Your Highness, I am overwhelmed. That you value me so highly… is it because of my bloodline?” Victor asked, feigning confusion.

“Bloodline…”

Williams shook his head with a laugh and walked toward the edge of the woods with his hands behind his back. Victor followed close behind, listening as he asked, “You’ve adopted the two illegitimate children of Lord Boris Sorim? The brother is called Brandon, I believe, nine years old, resonates with two Elemental Nodes, and the sister, Shirley, is seven and resonates with one.”

Victor’s eye twitched. Boris had assured him that very few people knew about this pair of illegitimate children, yet Williams knew everything about them.

“It’s just a normal wardship. I have not yet decided whether to adopt them as my son and daughter,” Victor said in a strained voice.

“Then do you know who their biological father is?” Grand Duke Williams said faintly.

“Who is it?” Victor asked, his face ashen.

Williams stopped and turned with a slight smile. “The old Marquess Sorim.”

“Are you surprised?” Williams resumed walking, speaking as he went. “Bloodline is tied to the rise and fall of a family. House Sorim is already struggling and can’t even implement primogeniture; internal strife is inevitable. A few heirs with strong bloodlines are enough. Descendants with weaker bloodlines are a burden on the main line. Although the old Marquess is an Earth Knight, he began having children when he was just an apprentice knight. He has too many heirs, so many that he has no time to protect his talented young sons and daughters. The old Marquess had to make other plans.”

“After the old Marquess resonated with thirty-six Elemental Nodes, he had seven more children. He gave these children to six of his descendants who had the best chance of inheriting the title to raise. No matter which of them wins, the family will have heirs with a superior bloodline.” Williams gave a contemptuous smile and shook his head. “Unfortunately, the maternal bloodlines of these children are quite ordinary. Their achievements are destined to be limited.”

“Boris has managed House Sorim’s internal affairs for thirty years and has kept the marquessate in good order. He’s a capable man,” Williams nodded, then added, “But he has no confidence in inheriting the title. Or rather, he clearly recognizes that the arrival of the barbarians has prompted a reshuffling of power among the southern lords. House Sorim is finished.”

“So, he entrusted the children to you. Because your bloodline is noble, your status is special—lord of Aerie Fortress, Sylvia’s lover… and also Gillian Chapman’s lover. If I’m not mistaken, once Boris returns to Copper City, he will quietly leak the news that you’ve taken in his ‘illegitimate’ children. Out of respect for you, Earl Chapman might support Boris in inheriting the Sorim title, on the condition that Boris voluntarily accepts a demotion in rank and cedes Copper City… At the very least, no one in House Sorim would dare risk angering you by killing Boris and his family.”

“I am very curious, what terms did Boris offer you?”

“One hundred thousand Gold Sol, and the opening of the stone trade,” Victor said flatly.

“Opening of the stone trade?” Williams said confidently, “I guarantee Boris won’t dare to do that.”

“Doesn’t House Sorim still have the Great Knight Gerhardt?” Victor deliberately tried to mislead Williams.

“Gerhardt… his relationship with the old Marquess isn’t very good. Heh, Gerhardt is a Wild Knight taken in by the old Marquess’s cousin, Manuel. He married Manuel’s daughter, and now their entire family lives in Blinor City.”

Williams sighed and said pointedly, “A dying beast is the most ferocious…”

The two walked in silence for a while before Williams spoke again. “Victor, your bloodline is ancient and pure, but I value your talent more than your bloodline. We of the Auguste family can afford to have such confidence! Using the vacuum left after the Ant-man tide to graze cattle and sheep, raise wild boars, occupy the riverbanks, build sluice gates, promote deep plowing and careful cultivation, establish the Briart Commercial Fief, sell green bricks, transplant Spiked Kidney Beans, and have the Wellington and Briatte families cooperate with you to achieve an orderly influx of population… These moves are all interlinked, absolutely brilliant. In truth, this was all your handiwork, wasn’t it?”

Victor smiled. “I also came up with a work point system, and as a result, a massive group of refugees nearly burst my fief at the seams.”

Williams’s steps faltered. He shook his head with a wry smile. “About that matter… Her Majesty the Queen’s original intention was to use the Church’s censure to get you to return to Blinor and take charge of the Wimbledon Merchant Association. She bears you no ill will…”

“But no freedom!”

Victor interrupted Williams, saying, “Sylvia respects my will. She accepts me whether I make a mistake or succeed. Back then, the York family wanted me to be their vassal lord. Would you have agreed? Of course you would! But I didn’t agree, and Sylvia didn’t force me. She gave me the freedom to act as I saw fit. When I got into trouble, she helped me solve it. When I achieved something, we engaged in an equal exchange. I have also given my subjects the freedom to act, to stimulate their creativity. The Randell Fief was built from nothing, and not by me alone. For every idea I have, there is a group of people helping me perfect it. Your Highness, you only see the success of the Randell Fief, but you haven’t seen the reason for that success.”

Williams suddenly understood why Sylvia hadn’t dispatched officials to Randell Fief, nor had she sent Knights to protect Victor personally. The Sword Saint Draven was first and foremost a Ranger. A constrained Moon Elf bloodline would lose its room to grow, and danger was a challenge they had to face.

“That sum of over four million Gold Sol is Aerie Fortress’s way of giving you the space to act freely,” Williams said with a carefree smile. “Although this huge sum nominally belongs to Sophia, you can teach her how to spend it. Gambis will also benefit from your achievements. I hope you can bring us even more surprises.”

There will be surprises, for sure, but they might not be pleasant ones… Hmm, a shock for you, a pleasant surprise for me.

Victor put on a troubled expression. “Sophia is stubborn. She’s set on being a commercial noble… I think she’ll only invest in the port in Earl Chapman’s domain.”

“Business always has to account for costs… As for Sophia’s choice, that’s not something I can control,” Williams said with a loud laugh. Earl Chapman’s domain was closer to the quarries and the Gloomy Forest than Randell Fief was; the savings on transportation costs for stone and timber alone would be enormous.

Besides, no one would dare sell stone to the York family. Did Sophia have any other choice?

“Right, this year’s annual tribute from Randell Fief must include goose eggs!” Williams added.

“Your Highness, goose eggs are difficult to transport and spoil easily.”

“Then convert it to money.”

Just then, an attendant from Aerie Fortress walked swiftly into the woods, bowed to Williams, and said, “Your Highness, His Highness Roland urges you to hurry. She wants to depart immediately.”

“I was originally planning to observe the Randell family’s military parade, but Roland has suddenly insisted on going back,” Williams said helplessly to Victor.

“Your Highness, I’ll see you off,” Victor said attentively.

The attendant quickly interjected, “My lord, His Highness Roland said she has received your kind thoughts, so there is no need for you to see them off.”

Kind thoughts? What kind thoughts? Don’t tell me she’s actually run off with Beldina!?

Victor’s expression changed dramatically. He bowed and said, “Your Highness, I shall take my leave first. I wish you and His Highness Roland a safe journey.” As he finished speaking, a breeze stirred, and his figure shot away like an arrow, disappearing without a trace in a few leaps.

Williams frowned and said in a low voice, “Let’s go!”

The convoy was already moving. Roland popped her head out of the carriage window, saw Williams, and shouted, “Uncle, hurry, hurry! If we don’t go now, Sylvia will come looking for snacks from me.”

Williams, his face grim, jumped into the carriage and said angrily, “Roland, what tricks are you up to now?”

Roland pulled a cord inside the carriage, and the convoy abruptly accelerated. She patted her ample chest with a look of relief and said slyly, “I went to Silver Moon Manor’s kitchen, knocked out the guard, and stole seven incredibly delicious things. I only left one for Sylvia.”

“What is this?” Williams took the blue plant tuber from Roland’s hand, sniffed it, then cut off a piece and chewed it. He smacked his lips and said, “The taste is very strange… you went to steal from Victor’s kitchen for this thing!? A lord’s kitchen being infiltrated is a very serious incident!”

“This is konjac!” Roland snatched the tuber back from Williams’s hand, took a delighted bite, and mumbled, “I think it’s delicious. I’m taking it back for old man Goron to try. He’ll definitely think it’s delicious too.”

Williams sucked in a sharp breath and muttered, “Then it must be an incredibly good thing…”

Victor burst into the lord’s residence and saw a solemn-looking Lilia leading a team of guards out. His heart tightened, and he asked urgently, “Lilia, is Beldina still here?”

“My lord, you’re back.” Lilia’s eyes lit up as she replied, “Beldina is being questioned by Elina.”

Victor let out a breath of relief and asked with a smile, “Did the little one do something to anger Elina again?”

Lilia shook her head and said, “An outsider broke into the kitchen at Silver Moon Manor… the guard was also knocked unconscious.”

The corner of Victor’s mouth twitched. He knew who did it.

If you like the food from the House of Randell, you just had to tell me. Why did you have to steal it? Is it fun to play the thief? Victor shook his head and said, “Let’s go have a look.”

Chapter 366: Confirmation

In the age before Wizards protected humanity, Knights and the clergy used every means at their disposal to face the challenge of the beastmen.

Political marriages between Knight families transformed the independent city-states into kingdoms. Soon after, the militia system, which lacked a standing army, was replaced by the vassalage system.

Knight-lords enfeoffed land, trained elite vassal soldiers, and nurtured wise scholars and brilliant craftsmen. They built strong castles and outposts, forged fine weapons and armor, and created remarkably effective potions.

Potion-craft, born from the Wizards’ own studies, became a stable and observable form of extraordinary power, highly valued by both lords and the Church. Not only did it develop into a complete theoretical system, but its applications became incredibly widespread.

Besides healing potions that cured illnesses and wounds, there were enhancement potions to strengthen one’s physique, slow aging, and nurture war beasts. There were also combat potions that could stimulate potential and simulate innate talents. And of course, there were poisons, meant to be used directly on one’s enemies.

Toxicology, one of the four major branches of potion-craft, has since developed to a point where the sheer variety and strange effects of its poisons are terrifying to contemplate.

Only a top-tier Silver Knight or a Gold Knight would dare claim immunity to Gold-rank extraordinary toxins. The more Elemental Nodes a Silver Knight resonated with, the faster they could break down poison. However, even the most powerful Knights were weak once. If an ordinary Knight could be killed with poison, a young family heir certainly had no ability to resist it.

Poisoning became the primary method of assassinating nobles.

Fortunately, priests could dispel most toxins. Nobles always kept several potent antidotes or poison suppressants on hand. As long as they could suppress the poison’s effects first, then have a priest cast the Cleansing Art, there would generally be no issue. In fact, even common travelers needed to prepare antidotes and suppressants.

What nobles feared were insidious chronic poisons that were impossible to guard against. If a family heir ingested a non-lethal chronic poison over a long period, it could cause their mental state to become abnormal—making them hyperactive and unable to focus on honing their Aura. No matter how great their talent, it would be wasted. Priests were often helpless in such situations.

For a lord, the safety of their food and drink was paramount. A lord’s kitchen absolutely could not be entered by outsiders!

With Victor’s Life attribute at twenty-five points, it would take an extraordinary poison to kill him. However, he could not yet freely mobilize the water element within his body, so his efficiency at metabolizing toxins was even worse than an ordinary Knight’s. A common poison could still render him paralyzed, numb, or unconscious, leaving him unable to use his skills and at the mercy of others.

To protect Victor from the effects of poison, Sylvia had given him the poison sac Bone Bead of a Legendary-rank Manticore. As long as Victor held the bead in his mouth or swallowed it into his stomach, he could completely suppress any toxin below the Legendary rank. Even if he were poisoned by the elemental venom of a Sanctuary-rank Hydra Lizard, he would be able to hold on for some time.

With the Bone Bead and his current physique, Victor was immune to both potent venoms and chronic toxins. However, the other people in Silver Moon Manor were not so lucky, especially the sisters Lilia and Elina, and now Beldina. Their statuses were special, and they each had their own backgrounds. If anything happened to any one of them, it would be a heavy blow to House Randall.

Among the thirty guards at Silver Moon Manor, only three were elite-level Lithe Ape militiamen. The manor’s defenses seemed weak on the surface, but the more than one hundred young attendants learning martial arts and Mystic Forms could all become capable fighters if they took up arms. Furthermore, among the two hundred-odd servants, there were twenty Alchemical auxiliary soldiers. If the manor were attacked, the Swiftbird light cavalry stationed on the back mountain could arrive in an instant.

Savage-state killers and Knight assassins had nowhere to hide from Victor’s elemental detection. The only real worry was a common spy skilled with poisons. As for Wizards, worrying was useless.

The drinking water and ingredients for Silver Moon Manor were handled exclusively by Alchemical humans, and the kitchen was a heavily guarded key area. Three guards and one Elite Guard formed a shift, with two shifts taking turns guarding the kitchen’s antechamber, closely monitoring everyone who entered and exited the main kitchen.

But the one place that should have been safest was where something went wrong.

The guards and young attendants of Silver Moon Manor were gathered around the entrance to the kitchen antechamber. When they saw the lord himself arrive, they cleared a path. Jori, the Guard Captain of the manor, knelt at Victor’s feet, saying shamefully, “My lord, this is all my fault. I have failed your trust.” This old veteran from the War Bear Mercenaries was kneeling on both knees.

I never expected you to be able to stop a Gold Knight, nor did I ever think a Gold Knight would sneak into my kitchen… Victor grumbled to himself. He patted the War Bear mercenary’s shoulder and said, “Jori, this isn’t the time for apologies. First, report the situation to me.”

“All uninvolved personnel, go to the great hall and be questioned by Lady Nicole. No one is to speak on the way!”

After Lilia gave the order with a commanding presence, the attendants, servants, and guards at the door flooded out. Victor leaned close to Lilia’s ear. “Darling, is there any need to be this serious?”

“My lord, isn’t this the interrogation protocol you established?” Lilia raised a delicate eyebrow and whispered, “We can use this opportunity to run a drill. Lady Sylvia wants to see our investigation methods.”

Victor understood at once. Roland must have wanted to steal the manor’s master chef’s cooking recipes so that Aerie Fortress could also make delicious food. But first, she had to figure out the kitchen’s location and layout, so she needed to coax the information out of the little foodie.

Most importantly, besides Roland, who would dare sneak into Victor’s kitchen right under Sylvia’s nose? If an honored guest wanted some cooking recipes, would Victor really refuse to give them? To Roland, this was just a game of playing thief, and only she would do something like this.

The little foodie followed Roland around all day. All Sylvia had to do was have Elina question her, and the matter would be clear.

Since they had nothing better to do anyway, Sylvia was quite interested in seeing how Silver Moon Manor handled emergencies. Naturally, Nicole, Elina, and Lilia wouldn’t dare to go against her wishes.

Roland’s little game had thrown Silver Moon Manor into a state of alarm, but Sylvia, knowing full well what was happening, remained impassive. A single word from someone of her stature could set those below into motion, and even change a person’s fate.

Inwardly, Victor was somewhat dismissive, but as a lord, he also believed that emergency drills were very necessary. He nodded at Jori, signaling him to explain the situation.

“This afternoon, Conn’s team was in charge of guarding the kitchen antechamber door. The manor guard detachment patrols the antechamber once every half-hour. At around three in the afternoon, the guard detachment found Conn and his men unconscious in front of the door. They reported to me immediately. I sent someone to inform Lady Elina and rushed to the scene myself.

“When I arrived, I found the door was still locked tight. At that point, Lady Elina had someone deliver the kitchen key. After opening the door, we could confirm that someone had infiltrated the main kitchen… The master chef’s cooking notes are missing.”

“The infiltrator either had a key to the kitchen or is an expert lockpick. They are highly skilled, able to knock out four guards, including Torrevan, without a sound. And they are familiar with the kitchen’s layout, as well as the patrol routes and times of the manor guards…” Jori paused, then stammered, “I suspect… I suspect the intruder is a Knight, and they have an accomplice inside Silver Moon Manor.”

There was indeed an accomplice. Beldina was doted on by Elina, so the kitchen of Silver Moon Manor had no defenses against her. She could come and go as she pleased, eating whatever she wanted. It would have been easy for Roland to get the details of the kitchen from Bel’s mouth. Then, she executed a clever infiltration, with the master chef’s cooking notes as her prize. Before Roland, the Elite Guard Torrevan was no different from an ordinary guard; he was knocked out without so much as a grunt.

She knocked out all the guards, yet she still acted like a thief and used tools to pick the lock… Couldn’t she have just twisted the lock right off? That’s just rubbing it in!

Victor shook his head, saying with a pained expression, “According to regulations, all the ingredients in the kitchen can no longer be used. Take them all out and feed them to the dogs…”

“Wait!”

Victor turned his head to see Sylvia walking over alone. He couldn’t help but ask in surprise, “My dear, what are you doing here? Weren’t you going to watch Nicole question the servants?”

“Nicole and Elina are very dedicated to Silver Moon Manor. They are doing a fine job… And something suddenly occurred to me.” Sylvia gave a gentle smile, strolling to Victor’s side. “That person merely took a few cooking recipes. There was no need to leave in such a hurry. What other good things are you hiding in your kitchen?”

A thought struck Victor. He asked Jori, “Besides the master chef’s notes, what else is missing?”

“There were eight Swamp Blue Taros. Seven of them are gone. Nothing else is missing,” Jori replied.

Swamp Blue Taro, the root of a plant that grows in swamps. It was extremely rare, with a growth cycle of over seventy years, and was a super-class-one ingredient in the Alchemical Empire. The Alchemical militia’s priority for harvesting Blue Taro was even higher than for Saron Demon Iron.

Information about the Blue Taro surfaced in Victor’s mind. He commanded in a heavy voice, “Bring me the remaining Blue Taro.”

Jori immediately entered the main kitchen and quickly returned with a tray, presenting it to Victor. Sylvia’s beautiful eyes were fixed on the Blue Taro on the tray.

The tray was turned towards Sylvia. She picked up the Blue Taro, held it to her nose to smell it, hesitated for a moment, then took a gentle bite. She closed her eyes to savor it, her delicate brows sometimes furrowing, sometimes relaxing.

Victor felt his mouth go dry, and he mobilized X-3 to control his nervousness. When Sylvia opened her eyes, he quickly asked, “How is it?”

A charming smile bloomed at the corners of Sylvia’s mouth. Her face glowing, she said, “It is Blue Taro. No wonder she left in such a hurry without so much as a goodbye… It’s truly, truly delicious…”

A tempest raged in Victor’s mind. He had tasted Blue Taro before. Its flavor was strange and had nothing to do with the word ‘delicious’; it could even be called disgusting. Even the little foodie Bel was unwilling to take a second bite. Yet, this foul-tasting food was a designated super-class-one ingredient by the Alchemists. Victor had always suspected that Knights were descendants of the Alchemists. He had asked both Nicole and Gillian to taste the Blue Taro, and they had both spit it out without exception.

The result had been a great disappointment, but the Alchemical militia always brought back the Blue Taro. The master chefs had no love for it either, so Victor could only shelve them away. He never expected that Sylvia and Roland would be so fond of it.

After tens of thousands of years, the tastes of Alchemists and Gold Knights were actually the same? The only reason could be that they possessed the same form of life. Now, Victor was almost certain: Alchemists were Gold Knights!

Victor composed himself and ordered, “You are dismissed.”

Lilia and the other guards bowed slightly and quickly left the kitchen antechamber. Victor tentatively asked Sylvia, “Is it merely delicious? Are there any other effects?”

Sylvia held the Blue Taro, admiring it fondly. “I find it delicious… Is that not reason enough?” As she spoke, she looped her arm through Victor’s, her spirits soaring. “My dear, we need to have a proper talk.”

“About the Blue Taro?”

“About the Blue Taro, and your swamp scouts.”

Konjac was the name Roland came up with.

Chapter 367: The Value of Blue Taro

“I can’t help but want to eat it.”

Sylvia returned to her bedroom, set down the silver cover to conceal the Blue Taro on the tray, and turned to Victor with a faint smile, the lake-green hem of her dress fluttering cheerfully.

“Then eat it. I’ll order the marsh scouts to gather more Blue Taro.” Victor lit a lizard-oil candle. The flame licked at the bronze brazier, and the amber within slowly released the scent of the forest.

Sylvia came over and blew out the taper in Victor’s hand. She wrapped her long, slender arms around his neck, her golden hair cascading down her back like a waterfall. Victor instinctively supported her back, afraid that her willow-thin waist might snap in his grasp.

“You remind me of a fairytale my nursemaid used to tell me.”

Sylvia’s azure eyes were filled with a sweet smile. “A beautiful princess accompanied her father, the King, to visit her grand-aunt, who had married into a distant kingdom. The sight of her grand-aunt’s aged appearance terrified the princess. She became filled with fear and worry, lost her appetite, and grew weaker by the day. The King and Queen summoned the best priests, but none could cure the princess’s ailment of the heart. A priest said that only the Fountain of Youth, guarded by a fierce dragon, could save her life. The King publicly proclaimed that whoever could retrieve water from the Fountain of Youth could marry the princess and inherit the throne. A young knight endured many hardships and used his wits to trick the dragon, successfully obtaining the water from the Fountain of Youth.”

“‘And so, the princess and the knight lived happily ever after.’” Victor shook his head and chuckled. “I never would have guessed you had the heart of a princess.”

Sylvia shot Victor a look. “Every noblewoman dreams of being a princess when she’s a little girl,” she said, feigning annoyance. “She dreams a knight will be willing to fetch her water from the Fountain of Youth.”

“Why a knight, and not a prince or someone like that? My dear, I can never become a Knight in my life…” Victor said with a slightly awkward, self-deprecating laugh. “Of course, I’m not a prince either.”

“And I’m not a princess either, yet I became the Queen of Roses.”

Sylvia’s eyes grew hazy, and she sighed dreamily. “When I realized I wasn’t a princess, I came to a different interpretation of that fairytale. The water from the Fountain of Youth loses its power the moment it leaves the spring. No one could bring the water to the princess. So she took up a sword, donned a suit of armor, and became a knight herself. She slew the dragon, drank from the Fountain of Youth, and gained eternal youth, becoming a queen.”

“‘The princess and the knight lived happily ever after…’” Victor mulled this over for a moment before remarking with admiration, “A brilliant interpretation. So the Fountain of Youth is the Elemental Sea.”

“The princess represents innocence—beautiful, fragile, and fleeting. The knight represents courage, wisdom, and strength. The dragon represents hardship and challenges. If the knight does not protect the princess, he cannot become king. If the queen forgets she was once a princess, the knight’s armor will cause her beauty to wither, and her eternal youth will become meaningless.” Sylvia nodded, planted a light kiss on Victor’s lips, and smiled sweetly. “My dear, I now believe in my nursemaid’s fairytale again, because I know you are my knight.”

Adoration filled Sylvia’s eyes, and Victor felt a daze wash over him.

When he first met Sylvia, her mature, seductive charm had made Victor overlook the reverence with which Duke York and his retainers treated her. After their night of passion at Rose Manor, Victor had considered it just a typical aristocratic dalliance. Once he learned Sylvia’s true identity, their subsequent interactions were tinged with the smug satisfaction of being favored and a hint of shame, which sparked in him the impulse to conquer her. But Sylvia’s disposition and appearance were also changing. This transformation was not an overnight one, but a subtle, heartfelt adjustment that radiated from within, like a rose after the rain—vibrant and full of graceful life.

The Sylvia of today was incomparably radiant, like a peerless beauty in her twenties. Her every frown and smile held a heart-stirring charm. In public, she was still the lofty Queen of Roses, but when alone with Victor, she became a happy woman nourished by love, who would act coquettishly, throw small tantrums, and occasionally show an adorable side.

Everyone has multiple faces. Victor knew clearly that Sylvia was not acting, nor did she need to. This was the soft side of the Queen of Roses, but it was by no means a weakness. It was the beauty and truth within her humanity. And this beauty bloomed for him alone.

You enjoy our intimacy, and so do I…

Victor swept Sylvia’s soft, fragrant body up in his arms, princess-style, and placed her on the sofa. He knelt on one knee, took her slender hand, and said, “Then, my princess, how may I be of service?”

Sylvia kicked off her elegant high heels, pulled Victor onto the sofa with her, and fell into his arms, giggling.

Lovers alone in a room are naturally prone to passionate kisses and affectionate embraces. Sylvia said, “My dear, I thought my life would be spent in the company of only power, family, and roses. You’ve allowed me to experience the fantasies of my girlhood, fantasies I had almost forgotten.”

“Love brings pleasure, and pleasure makes me more beautiful.”

“Pleasure can also help me live longer!”

This was a serious topic. Victor withdrew his left hand, sat up straight, and asked earnestly, “Does the Blue Taro have a similar effect on you?”

Sylvia nodded, then shook her head. Instead of answering, she posed a question of her own. “You know how to swim. How do you feel in the water?”

“Very relaxed, completely free… If the Goldwater River didn’t have fishmen and water monsters, I could swim across it to the other side.” Victor was fully confident in his swimming ability and stamina.

“And what if it were in the ocean? What if it were in the Elemental Sea?”

“That… I’m afraid I’d drown.”

Sylvia smiled faintly and said, “In my view, a person is a union of three natures: divine nature, bestial nature, and humanity.”

“All things possess a divine nature. Rotting into mud or burning to ash is merely a transformation of elemental form; the essence itself neither increases nor decreases. It is eternal and indestructible, representing the origin of the world. That is divine nature.”

“Above divine nature is bestial nature. When hungry, we gather and hunt. When cold, we weave clothes and build shelter. When afraid, we flee danger. When angry, we thirst for blood and kill our enemies. When fed and warm, we reproduce. Bestial nature is the instinct for survival; both intelligent races and animals possess it. To lose one’s bestial nature is to be left with only divine nature.”

“Controlled bestial nature is humanity. It turns the consumption of raw flesh and blood into wisdom, fear into courage, anger into reason, and the instinct to reproduce into love and responsibility for family. Humanity is born from cooperation among our own kind. The chaos within bestial nature must be purged so that the strength of human survival can be magnified manyfold. This is manifested in social hierarchies and moral traditions, all with the aim of protecting every individual within the group. Humanity is the power of Order, derived from bestial nature, yet superior to it.” Sylvia paused, then added, “But its essence is still bestial… Therefore, humanity itself is not good or evil, nor is it bound by race. The glory of humanity is reserved for one’s companions. It is perfectly natural for beastmen to eat humans, and it is a praiseworthy feat for us to slaughter beastmen. By the same token, if anyone dares to harm you, I will treat them with cruelty, because you are my beloved.”

Victor nodded, then frowned and asked, “What happens if you lose your humanity?”

Sylvia smiled gently. “If a beast appears among the subjects, you spurn it, imprison it, exile it, or if all else fails, impale it on a wooden stake…”

“You know that’s not what I’m asking,” Victor said gravely.

Sylvia gazed into Victor’s eyes and sighed. “The Elemental Sea constantly erodes our souls. We lose more than just our humanity; we lose our bestial nature as well.”

“Why is the Elemental Sea called a sea? Because it is unfathomable and boundless. Once you jump in, you can never get back out.”

Sylvia explained with a smile, “The maximum lifespan of a Gold Knight is one hundred and sixty years, but very few live to that age. They often ‘drown’ prematurely. To survive in the Elemental Sea, a Gold Knight must delve deep into its nature, strengthen themselves, and become adept and free within it.”

“The legendary realm?”

“Yes.” Sylvia nodded. “A Gold Knight has no way back. Constructing a Transcendent combat skill is a process of understanding and applying the principles of the Elemental Sea, but every attempt risks complete assimilation. Even after successfully mastering a Transcendent combat skill, a Gold Knight will fall into a low point, needing time to shake off the Elemental Sea’s influence, which manifests as a loss of interest in everything. This process is grueling, but if they can recover quickly, their chances of stepping into the legendary realm become greater.”

“The desire for food and drink is almost non-existent for a Gold Knight. We can make black bread taste like a delicacy or eat the finest cuisine as if it were wax, simply by adjusting our sense of taste. But the Blue Taro…” Sylvia pondered for a moment before continuing, “…I truly find it delicious. It’s an instinctual need… After eating the Blue Taro, my connection to the physical world became stronger. In other words, the Blue Taro allows me to temporarily escape the negative effects of the Elemental Sea.”

Gaze into the darkness, and the darkness gazes back.

To become powerful, a Gold Knight must pay a price. Alchemists, too, must draw upon the power of the Elemental Sea to create Law Crystals, a process arguably even more arduous than a Gold Knight honing a Transcendent combat skill. Therefore, Alchemists need to dispel these negative effects promptly, and the Blue Taro is the key to their sustained work.

If Blue Taro can help Alchemists create Law Crystals, then it must also be able to help Gold Knights master Transcendent combat skills and step into the legendary realm!

Victor immediately leaped to his feet. “Roland went too far! There were only eight Blue Taros in total, and she left just one… I’ll go get the rest back right now!”

Sylvia grabbed Victor’s hand, a knowing smile on her face. “If Roland had taken all the Blue Taros and hadn’t made a deliberate show of escaping, would you and I have realized their value?”

I would’ve just thought of it as a normal plant… Victor thought for a moment and asked, “Is Roland deliberately trying to tell us something? Why didn’t she just say it outright?”

“The Blue Taro shouldn’t just be a delicacy for Gold Knights; it should be made into a more effective potion. When it comes to potion-making, no family can compare to the Augustes. Roland wants to cooperate with us: we provide the Blue Taro, and the Auguste family provides potions specifically for Gold Knights. As for why she didn’t say it directly…” Sylvia shook her head and chuckled. “That’s just Roland’s style. She wanted to see me lose my composure… I’ll just ignore her!”

Pouting? You do seem a little flustered… Victor rubbed his nose and asked, “My dear, can the Blue Taro help you enter the legendary realm? I mean, can it extend your lifespan to one hundred and sixty years?”

“I am already a legend!” Sylvia shot Victor an exasperated look, then said frankly, “I know my own condition. One hundred and twenty years is the limit for a Spirit Knight. However, the Blue Taro can help me unleash more power in battle. Besides, a Gold Knight can’t rely on Blue Taro to enter the legendary realm; it can only serve as a supplement. Bloodline is what determines a Gold Knight’s potential. Take Marquess Golan, for example. The Blue Taro might help him master three Transcendent combat skills, but he will never become a Legendary Knight.”

“Regardless, Blue Taro is an extremely valuable resource. Controlling it gives us a powerful bargaining chip.”

Victor continued, “My marsh scouts were originally mountain folk. They sacrificed more than twenty lives to open up a hunting ground in the Great Marsh. Now, many freemen have joined their ranks. I currently have two hundred nineteen marsh scouts, divided into three scouting parties. I promised that in addition to receiving a handsome commission, any resources they gather in the marsh belong to them, and the House of Randell will offer to purchase them.”

“It’s necessary to expand the marsh scouts.” Sylvia nodded and said, “I could send Knights into the Great Marsh, but it’s a dangerous assignment, and noble Knights shouldn’t waste their lives and time gathering Blue Taro. I hope your marsh scouts can go to the Central Fortress and the Northern Fortress to open new hunting grounds. The York family can cover their pay and supplies, but the marsh resources they gather and hunt must be sold to the Central and Northern Fortresses. The goods acquired by the Southern Fortress will still be yours.”

Victor laughed. “You’ve also got your eye on the hides of the six-legged crocodiles.”

“Can’t I?” Sylvia said with a half-smile.

“As you wish, my princess.” Victor gave a Knight’s salute with a pained expression, which made Sylvia’s feigned anger turn to delight. He then grew serious. “There’s one more thing. Grand Duke Williams just spoke to me about House Sorim…”

Victor recounted the entire conversation, though he omitted any mention of the entanglement between the Sword Saint and the Iron Mountain Queen.

“Why do I get the feeling Williams was warning me not to interfere in the politics of the south?” Victor frowned. “The extent of Aerie Fortress’s infiltration of House Sorim is shocking. If Williams were to use the same methods against the House of Randell, how could I guard against it?”

Sylvia chuckled lightly. “You needn’t worry so much. The declining House Sorim is like a sieve, full of holes. It would not be so easy for Williams to send spies to infiltrate the upper echelons of the House of Randell.”

“However, I will not support you interfering in the internal affairs of the southern lords!”

Chapter 368: A Silent Gambit

“The Duty of Silence dictates that the great houses within the same kingdom are forbidden from interfering in any way with another great house’s struggle for succession. Regardless of whether their heirs plead with you or try to bribe you, you must stand by as a detached observer, remain silent, and only interact with them once the matter is resolved.”

Great families have their own laws of survival. Victor had only recently stepped into the circle of high nobility, and he still had much to learn. Sylvia had a duty to be his teacher.

“No thousand-year-old family can guarantee its own perpetual prosperity. The York family also once declined, only to rise again. If we interfere in House Sorim’s succession struggle now, other great houses could interfere with ours in the future.”

Victor thought for a moment and asked, “Does ‘great house’ refer to a thousand-year-old family?”

“A regional sovereign.” Sylvia shook her head and explained further, “The ancestors of the Nim, Wellington, and Joshua families were all followers of the Auguste family’s progenitor. Their domains protect the Auguste family’s directly controlled territory, situated to the west, south, and east of the royal court. As for us, the York family and House Sorim were once vassals of Neowist. Seven hundred years ago, the eagle’s wings were clipped; the imperial family gradually declined, and the Friedrich, Auguste, and Resk families rose to power. The York family and the Sorims subsequently pledged allegiance to the Augustes to avoid becoming sacrifices in Neowist’s war of restoration.”

“In terms of closeness, the Yorks and Sorims naturally can’t compare to the relationship between the follower families and Aerie Fortress. If the Augustes were to take advantage of a sovereign’s decline to meddle in their succession and carve up their domain, let alone us, even the follower families would never agree. Conversely, if we were to interfere in House Sorim’s internal strife and control their successor, how would the Augustes react? If every sovereign acted like a snake-tailed vulture, fighting over the flesh and blood of a failing house, wouldn’t the kingdom erupt in civil war?”

Sylvia paused, then said slowly, “As their peers, we can only watch as the Sorims perish, are reborn, or are replaced by a new hegemon. The one thing we cannot do is treat them as a choice piece of meat. Even the Auguste family wouldn’t directly interfere in House Sorim’s internal struggles at a time like this. They chose to pressure and entice the Chepman family into ceding four thousand square kilometers of territory to place Weigel Auguste in the south. Weigel will be a nail that Aerie Fortress drives into the southern domains. Earl Chepman is vexed by Aerie Fortress’s marriage proposal precisely because he fears Weigel’s descendants will compete with the Chepman family for dominance in the south. This is almost inevitable. The Auguste family has been coveting the southern minerals for a very long time.”

Victor said mockingly, “Aren’t the Augustes just deceiving themselves?”

“But they didn’t violate the Duty of Silence.”

Sylvia pressed her vibrant red lips together and asked, “My love, by taking in Marquis Sorim’s illegitimate children, have you considered the Chepman family’s feelings? Aren’t they your allies?”

“I’ve never had a good impression of Earl Chepman. I only care about Gillian…” Victor pursed his lips and said, “The walls of the southern fortress are about to be completed, and my alliance with the Chepmans will change as well.”

Sylvia, half-exasperated and half-amused, said, “Are Gillian and Chepman not one and the same? You should send those two children back to House Sorim… With Sophia by your side, what are a hundred thousand Gold Sols from House Sorim?”

Were Sorim’s illegitimate children only worth one hundred thousand Gold Sols? Behind them were four Thorium mines!

Thorium equipment would one day see the light of day. Even if the major powers lacked the technology to integrate Thorium, it wouldn’t stop them from fighting over Thorium resources. Victor planned to use this window of time to stockpile as much Thorium ore as possible. Marquis Sorim was preparing to challenge the Elemental Sea, and his family members were busy fighting for the title. Copper City had no energy to spare on the true value of soft silver. If it were any other lord, even a small baronial family, Victor would never have had the chance to fish in troubled waters.

As long as Brandon and Shirley remained with the Randall family, Victor wasn’t worried that the new master of Copper City would overturn the agreement he’d made with Sorim’s eldest son. Once the Golden Company was fully established, he could launch a war if it came to that. In any case, with the agreement in hand, Victor wasn’t afraid even if the war of words reached the Holy See.

Four Thorium mines were worth a war!

“To strive for something beyond your grasp is greed! And greed makes people foolish!” Sylvia snapped, displeased.

Victor spread his hands and argued fallaciously, “They are just two little ones with no right of inheritance. I couldn’t just watch them be poisoned! Besides, Marquis Sorim isn’t dead yet. If he doesn’t rush to challenge the Elemental Sea, he can live for at least another decade. Taking in his illegitimate children is just a normal act of Fostering; it doesn’t count as interfering in the Sorim succession struggle.”

“We have sole dominion over the Centaur Hills. Do you have any idea how much pressure I’m under? We have enough land to keep us busy for a long time… It will be ten years before the family’s aberrant war beasts can be bred, and twenty before the war beast knights reach a respectable number. By then, the southern expansion strategy will be underway, but the York family can’t possibly handle the natives of the Southern Continent on our own. We need the strength of the entire kingdom. The Southern Continent is rich with resources; there’s no need for us to offend Aerie Fortress over House Sorim. Williams will use this as a pretext to rally the great lords of Gambis and isolate our York family!”

“Can’t you see? The old fox is using my influence and yours to find a chance for House Sorim to rise again!”

Victor just shook his head. Sylvia was so angry her willow-leaf brows stood on end. She lifted her exquisite, jade-like foot to kick him, but Victor caught it in his hand and began to knead and caress it.

“What are you smiling at?” Sylvia rolled her eyes but didn’t pull her leg back.

Victor shook his head with a smile. “Aerie Fortress even knows how many Elemental Nodes Brandon and Shirley have awakened. The infiltration capabilities of their spies truly startled me… Williams just used his spies to intimidate me, and then Roland barges into the kitchen of Silver Moon Manor. I imagine the look on Williams’ face when he finds out will be quite a sight.” He suddenly asked, “Marquess Golan must be around one hundred years old, right?”

“Mmm…” Sylvia hummed softly, her nasal tone lazy and charming. “His Highness Golan is ninety-eight this year… Speak! What are you really planning?”

“He and Roland must be in dire need of Blue Taro. I can send people to gather a few and present them as a gift to congratulate Prince Edward on his accession. Of course, we send a tribute of Blue Taro to Aerie Fortress every year anyway. For the sake of the Blue Taro, the Regent shouldn’t trouble me over two insignificant illegitimate children, no matter what.”

Sylvia freed herself from Victor’s demonic grasp, curled her shapely legs, and said with great interest, “Go on.”

“I have no intention of interfering with the Sorim family’s succession. My goal is the soft silver mines in Marquess Sorim’s domain!”

“What’s soft silver used for?” Sylvia’s eyes lit up as she pressed him for an answer.

Her paramour always managed to surprise her. Purple Cane, Goldsilk Grass, Fishman mucus, Corrupt-Heart Grass—he had turned these seemingly ordinary things into raw sugar, rock bricks, a new adhesive, and vine-hide armor. Even the worthless Spiked Kidney Bean had become an ingredient for making soap, though the soap was an invention of Davy, the assistant priest of Laketon.

In short, the Randell Fief was full of people with wild ideas. Perhaps the mud-like soft silver was useful now, too?

“Soft silver is useless!” Victor said without batting an eye. “Purchasing the soft silver ore is a diversion to draw the lords’ attention away. What I really want is the charcoal from the Gloomy Forest.”

“Gambis is about to launch the Fishman War. Sophia was the one who caused this, and as a Court Marquess, she must bear at least a portion of the military fund. Under these circumstances, she lacks the ability and the need to invest in building two ports at the same time. The Chapman territory is closer to the quarry and the Gloomy Forest, which means lower transportation costs. Since Williams has restricted the supply of stone from the Centaur Hills, Sophia has no choice but to build her port in the Chapman territory.”

Victor’s tone shifted as he said, “Of course, this was all within our expectations.”

“We don’t have stone, but we still need to build a port, so we invented Iron bricks. The production cost of Iron bricks is extremely high, even more expensive than transporting stone, and it requires a massive amount of iron ore. For this reason, we have to sell refined iron to purchase regular iron ore, a proposal Aerie Fortress cannot refuse. There are two reasons for this. First, the Naville people will cooperate with us to reduce the refined iron supply to Gambis. Second, once Aerie Fortress learns the production cost of Iron bricks, they will conclude that our using them to build a port is a blunder, doomed to fail. Aerie Fortress will be happy to watch us make a fool of ourselves.”

“A few years later, when it becomes clear that we can’t sustain building the port with Iron bricks, we will have ‘invented’ rock bricks. Everyone will think the appearance of rock bricks was forced by circumstance. This gives us a foothold in public opinion. Our diplomacy with the barbarians is our cover, and the Nim and Wellington families are our potential allies. As long as they help us build momentum, they can get the construction and production plans for the giant brick kilns. Aerie Fortress won’t be able to unite the great lords to pressure the Centaur Hills. They will be negotiating with us on one hand, while uniting to resist external forces on the other. In short, we must not let the other kingdoms get the rock brick production technology first. We will have enough time to produce rock bricks in preparation for future massive construction projects, and then, we can sell them for a good price.”

“The above is the divide and conquer strategy you formulated.”

Sylvia blinked and asked, “Is there a problem with it?”

“No problem.” Victor shook his head. “I’ve told you before, the charcoal resource is the biggest loophole in this plan. Once rock bricks appear, we won’t even need Aerie Fortress to act; the great lords themselves will rush to buy up charcoal from the Gloomy Forest. If the price of charcoal is driven up threefold, we won’t be able to bear it.”

“I remember I put you in charge of the charcoal reserves…” Sylvia said pensively. “Is purchasing soft silver ore related to the charcoal reserve?”

Victor nodded. “The void water elements in the Gloomy Forest are abnormally active. The outskirts of the forest are overgrown with resilient thorny bushes and sedges. The eleven surrounding minor families can’t cultivate farmland or graze livestock. They are extremely envious of Lordship Lelira’s charcoal business. If I just nod, they’d be happy to sell their charcoal to the Centaur Hills. However, charcoal is a bulk commodity. If I start buying it openly, it will definitely arouse the suspicions of other families.”

“Yes, Viscount Randell’s reputation is quite well-known now. Your every move attracts attention. If you start purchasing large quantities of charcoal, regardless of whether it’s useful or not, others will scramble to follow suit, and the price will surely skyrocket.” Sylvia chuckled softly. “I wanted to keep you hidden in the background, but at Marquess Leopold’s ball, Roland forcefully pushed you into the limelight. Thinking back on it now, she probably did it on purpose. Roland’s judgment is truly sharp…”

Victor shook his head with a wry smile and continued, “I need a pretext to hide my true objective. It just so happens that Laketon doesn’t have a city wall yet. I plan to first build an inner wall, one-point-four meters thick, made of green brick, and use the soft silver ore to fill the space in between, like gravel. A wall like that would be sturdy enough. Soft silver ore is very tough, but it can’t be cut and shaped. We have to use a method of heating it with fire and dousing it with water to make it crack into small stones, and that requires a large amount of charcoal.”

“I’ve surveyed the geography of the Centaur Hills. There are only three mineable soft silver veins in the entire region. One is in my territory, and the other two are in the north, too far from Laketon to be worth mining. I’ve signed an agreement with Boris Sorim. I take in Sorim’s illegitimate children, and House Sorim will provide Laketon with soft silver ore at the price of stone until the city wall is complete.”

“Then again, Williams is supporting Chepman to replace Sorim, isn’t it all to monopolize control of the port? It would be stranger if you didn’t react at all!”

Sylvia pondered for a moment, then broke into a smile. “Using soft silver ore to build a city wall… you’re really something… But you still haven’t solved the problem. As long as the amount of charcoal the Centaur Hills purchases exceeds what’s actually consumed, others will inevitably start hoarding charcoal, especially the Wellington family.”

“So, I can’t be the one to do it. The charcoal trade must be in the hands of a neutral party.”

Victor nodded in acknowledgement and said, “Before the barbarians cross the river, Aerie Fortress won’t dare to strip Sophia of her title, so her trade within the kingdom won’t be affected. Sophia’s Four-Leaf Clover Trading Company has the ability to control the charcoal trade. Sophia will provide the capital to buy out the charcoal produced by the eleven families for the next seven years. Each family must provide no less than three hundred cartloads of charcoal per month, and the Church will supervise both parties. This will ensure that the price of charcoal remains unchanged for seven years. We will have the right of first refusal to purchase the charcoal from Sophia at a fifteen-percent markup. Wildwillow City will become the distribution center for charcoal, and the Wellington and Briatte families will also benefit from this.”

“In seven years, the Oilwood forest we’ve planted will have matured. No one will be able to hold us hostage over fuel.”

“A brilliant gambit!” Sylvia exclaimed in admiration, her eyes crinkling with a smile. “My love, you always find a way to convince me.”

Victor smiled faintly, then frowned. “The eleven lordship families are vassals to four different barons. Behind these four baronial families are Deepwater City, Vistock, and Copper City. I’m worried that Wellington and Joshua will secretly try to obstruct this agreement.”

“Don’t worry. The four baronial families are all independent lords. Their suzerains have limited influence over them.” Sylvia said faintly. “Besides, Sophia’s reputation is at its peak right now. Wellington and Joshua wouldn’t dare to overturn the trade agreement.”

Victor sighed and said, “What if they secretly ask their respective bishops to refuse to perform a Divine Notarization for the charcoal trade?”

Sylvia was silent for a moment before speaking. “You want me to go to Clement?”

“Yes.”

“If I could influence the decisions of the Church’s Curia, would we even be having these troubles? If the Pope were to protect me, how could he command the respect of others?” Sylvia said languidly. “If I go to speak with Clement, it will only be counterproductive. However…” Sylvia drew out the last word, a cunning smile on her face, “…you can talk to him.”

“Me?” Victor asked, surprised.

“That’s right, you.” Sylvia nodded affirmatively. “Clement’s position is at odds with that of the Radiant Knights. He wishes for the human kingdoms to eliminate civil war and present a united front against external threats. Now that this goal is about to be realized, he won’t care about minor frictions between the lords of Gambis. Your status is neither too high nor too low; it’s perfect for making a small request to the Pope.”

“Do you know where the Pope is right now?” Sylvia asked suddenly.

Clement and Tournans had disguised themselves as refugees and secretly entered the Randell Fief. Although there were more than forty thousand people in the Randell Fief now, the Randall family’s control over its population was so tight that Victor had long since been aware of the two great figures’ whereabouts. Moreover, Clement’s clandestine visit was no secret to the Church in Laketon.

Victor said with a strange expression, “His Holiness the Pope and Lord Tournans are living in George Village, working alongside the hired laborers every day…”

Chapter 369: Currying Favor

The bell of the small church rang, and Severin climbed out of his wooden plank bed. He sleepily put on his underclothes, sat groggily on the edge of the bed for a while longer, then finally threw on his coat and walked out of the room, yawning.

At dawn, he had to rush to the village office. There, Frank, the steward under Village Head George, would assign the day’s work. If he was late, the good jobs would be taken by others. Severin had just turned fifteen and hadn’t learned many skills, so there weren’t many tasks he could do. If he missed out, he would have to spend the day helping his family, without earning a single Copper Sol.

He washed his face with cold water, which cleared his head considerably. Severin hastily wiped the water from his face and crossed the courtyard toward the kitchen.

The courtyard was filled with seasonal fruits and vegetables. Severin went over to a wooden trellis, tilted his head back, and selected a heavy round melon. After a moment’s thought, he picked an even larger one.

“Severin? Is that you?”

“Auntie Marcy, it’s me,” Severin called into the kitchen as he placed the two round melons into his wicker basket.

A tall, sturdy woman in a headscarf stood at the kitchen door, calling out, “Breakfast is ready. Come and eat. When Robert gets back and sees you’ve gone off to work, he’ll start yelling at you again.”

“Auntie Marcy, you’re the best,” Severin said, ruffling his messy hair as he walked into the kitchen with a grin.

The kitchen was in the north corner of the courtyard, built with green bricks. In the center were two wooden tables, large enough to seat sixteen people. The stout woman skillfully used a pair of iron tongs to pick up a piece of charcoal and toss it into the stove. She poked it a couple of times to make the flames burn brighter, then grumbled with a pained expression, “Wanting a hot meal even in this heat, what a waste. This charcoal costs money… you can get just as full on black bread and raw lettuce.”

“Only respectable families can afford to cook with charcoal. People would laugh at us if we didn’t,” Severin said nonchalantly. “And charcoal isn’t expensive. One Copper Sol’s worth is enough for three days.”

“Where did you pick up such airs? We used to not even know what breakfast was… Oh, praise the supreme Lord of Radiance for bestowing upon us breakfast, a house, and, uh, and charcoal.” Auntie Marcy placed a small basin full of food on the wooden table, clasped her hands, and prayed piously.

“Praise the great Supreme Lord for granting me food… I beseech your mercy, let me succeed in making paper today,” Severin prayed under his breath.

“I hope you succeed too, little one.” Marcy ladled a spoonful of hot wheat porridge into the bowl in front of Severin.

“I stopped taking lizard eggs last month! Auntie Marcy, I’m an adult now!” Severin grumbled, taking a fierce bite of his black bread.

Breakfast consisted of Spiked Kidney Bean and green wheat porridge, goat’s milk with black bread, and two glistening slices of salted pork. The black bread in George Village was made with rye and ground-potato flour, with raw sugar mixed in, making it fragrant, sweet, and delicious. Severin was eating with gusto when the happy barks of the watchdog sounded at the door.

“Boy, now that you’re an adult, you should be doing your part for the family.” A middle-aged man pushed open the wooden door and walked in, his boots wet with dew.

The man had returned from his night watch. Marcy picked up a towel and solicitously wiped his face. “Robert, you’re back early.”

“If I came back any later, this boy would have run off to work again.” Robert ladled himself a bowl of the bean and wheat porridge and glared at his youngest son. “Your Auntie Katie has a big belly, and your younger siblings are still small. The family has eighty mu of fields, a three-fen vegetable patch, six pigs, and dozens of geese. Your mother and I can’t manage it all alone. Your two older brothers have proper jobs. Do we really need the measly wages you earn? You’re not going to work today. Stay home and honestly help the family!”

Severin swallowed the black bread in his mouth and said quickly, “Not unless you give me two Copper Sols!”

“In your dreams!” Robert bellowed. “Do you think paper is so easy to make? It costs eight Copper Sols just to rent Sid’s papermaking workshop for half a day. You’ve already spent four of the family’s Silver Sols and haven’t produced a damn thing! And you want me to keep throwing money into it? With that money, I’d rather hire two helpers!”

“Not unless you give me two Copper Sols!” Severin repeated stubbornly.

Robert flew into a rage, rolling up his sleeves to teach his wayward son a lesson, but a large hand pressed down on his shoulder, holding him in place.

Marcy held her husband down as if he were a chick. “Sabins became a mercenary, and Karl became a cook. We should give Severin a chance, too. What if he succeeds? That old scoundrel Roger improved the spinning machine, and the generous and merciful Lord Randell rewarded him with three hundred Gold Sols and thirty mu of land. That’s a fief! A fief, not rented land, understand? Roger is a vassal now. You have to bow and call your former hired hand ‘Master’ now.”

Robert struggled in vain and said menacingly, “You damn woman, I’m the head of this household, what I say goes!”

“I’m the one who holds the ladle.” The stout woman wagged a wooden spoon under Robert’s nose.

“Alright, you hold the ladle.” Seeing his wife’s thick arms, Robert immediately backed down, muttering, “If it were that easy, would the Sid family be renting out their papermaking workshop?”

“Let the boy try. It’s settled!” Marcy’s words carried as much weight as she did.

“Auntie Marcy, no! Mother, I love you so much,” Severin exclaimed happily.

Robert said sheepishly, “Marcy, I was just afraid you’d work yourself too hard.”

Marcy released her hand and smiled faintly. “Is it harder than when we were refugees?”

Robert and Marcy were a refugee couple who had met on the road. When the Randell Fief enacted the policy of building a house to establish residency, Robert had scraped together all his savings but still couldn’t come up with thirty Gold Sols. Just as he was at his wit’s end, Marcy, a former refugee leader, found him. Marcy proposed that if Robert swore an oath with her in the Church to become a legal husband and wife, she would provide the remaining thirty Gold Sols to help him build a house and establish residency.

And so, Robert’s family became subjects of the Randell Fief. His eldest son, Sabins, became a mercenary soldier for the fief, Marcy became the mistress of the house, and Robert’s original woman, Katie, remained in the home as a personal maid.

Robert’s life had changed dramatically. Not only did he now have a green brick house with a courtyard, but he was also allocated eighty mu of rented land. The Church took a ten-percent share of the harvest, and of the rest, Robert received thirty percent of the crops and all of the hay.

In the first year, Robert’s family harvested over four thousand three hundred pounds of wheat, over eight thousand pounds of hay, and five thousand three hundred pounds of ground-potatoes. Hay was very cheap in the Randell Fief; one hundred pounds sold for only one Copper Sol, or could be exchanged for fifteen pounds of charcoal. Marcy sold the hay and half of the new wheat, storing the other half at Village Head George’s bakery to exchange for old grain.

Most fiefs had a policy of exchanging new grain for old, and the Randell Fief was no exception. In George Village, one pound of new wheat could be exchanged for two pounds of three-year-old wheat or one and a half pounds of green wheat, redeemable at the village head’s bakery, but with a daily limit of no more than twenty pounds. The wheat Robert’s family got back from the exchange was enough to feed them for more than half a year, but the benefits of establishing residency didn’t stop there.

Robert was raising six pigs. In another two months, they would be ready for slaughter. He would get to keep the two smallest ones, but even so, their combined weight would exceed seven hundred pounds. In addition, Robert had a three-fen vegetable patch, which produced far more vegetables than they could eat. Marcy used the surplus to feed red-headed geese.

Although red-headed geese didn’t grow as fast as ground lizards, their feathers were a material for making arrows and crossbow bolts. Viscount Randell encouraged his subjects to raise red-headed geese, so no tribute was required. Submitting a certain number of goose eggs could even count as fulfilling half a month of labor service. The only drawback to raising geese was the high feed consumption. However, this wasn’t a problem for Robert’s family.

George Village had four hundred square kilometers of common land. This land and its produce belonged to Lord Randall, and as long as Village Head George permitted it, Robert had the right to gather resources from the common land to supplement his household’s needs. Raising pigs and geese was no trouble at all. In fact, traditional subjects had always relied on the produce of the common lands to survive.

Besides farming, raising livestock, and regularly gathering resources from the common land, the work assignments issued by George Village were also offered to them first. But Robert simply didn’t have the vigor to accept employment. His eldest son Sabins served in the mercenary army, his second son Mark was a cook’s assistant in the main mess hall, and he himself had to undergo a week of militia training every month.

Robert wasn’t sure if he was a subject or a vassal, but he was certain that he was one of Lord Randell’s people, and he was proud of it. He deeply understood that his family was well-fed, their lives were stable, and they had a surplus every year. But if they wanted to live even better, they needed more people. Right now, Katie was pregnant, and his other children were not yet adults. All the heavy work, both inside and outside the house, fell on him and Marcy, the two able-bodied laborers. For now, he just hoped Severin could lend a hand at home.

Marcy, however, had different ideas.

Refugees had no fixed abode, drifting to wherever there was work. For a refugee, traveling alone was an incredibly foolish act, as dangerous as being exiled to the wilderness. Refugees had to guard against their own kind (refugee bandits), wild beasts, and the random killings and extortion of the upper class. Moreover, they had to fight for job opportunities. Whoever had the bigger fist got to eat. Therefore, refugees had to stick together for survival, in groups of a few dozen to over a hundred, rallying around a refugee leader to eke out a living.

Marcy was such a refugee leader. Although she was a woman, she was tall and strong, possessing immense strength that two or three strong men couldn’t restrain. As a refugee leader, she was daring and fierce, having ended more than a dozen lives with her spiked club. As a woman, she also had a meticulous side, was fair in her dealings, and knew how to win people over. She only slept with the most handsome and weakest men in her group; she didn’t need to compete with her strong subordinates for women, so the relationships within the group were relatively stable.

Marcy commanded great respect within her group. Even after being defeated by other refugee groups and forced to leave Wildwillow City, a number of people still followed her to the Randell Fief.

Unlike other fiefs, the Randell Fief did not tolerate influential refugee leaders. Those who couldn’t accept a quiet life were ruthlessly suppressed. This was when Marcy’s meticulous side came into play. She cut off contact with her former subordinates, took her man and her two children, and moved to Fero Village to live quietly as a woman.

The Randell Fief was implementing its policy of building a house to establish residency and was recruiting stewards and mercenaries. Marcy saw this as a golden opportunity. She goaded her man into enlisting, but the coward refused, no matter what. Marcy decisively kicked him to the curb. Then, she took her children to George Village and found her former subordinate, Robert.

Robert’s status in the refugee group had been at the very bottom, but he was exceptionally tolerant of women and children. As long as a woman was willing to be with him, he would treat her children as his own.

Every mouth, big or small, needed to be fed. Not many refugee men were willing to spend their hard-earned money raising another’s child. They mocked Robert as a stupid donkey who lost his mind at the sight of a woman. But Marcy thought Robert was a man of loyalty and integrity. Except for the one in Katie’s belly, none of Robert’s five children were his own flesh and blood.

Could loyalty and integrity put food on the table?

Women with children from previous relationships were disliked by refugee men, and men with such children were even more despised by refugee women. Robert, dragging along five children, was dirt poor. The refugee leader Marcy would never have looked twice at him. But in the Randell Fief, Robert was someone Marcy could entrust her life to—because he had five children.

Marcy had discovered that Viscount Randell showed particular favor to refugee families. In the Randell Fief, the lines between refugee, subject, and vassal were very blurry, but the treatment of families versus bachelors was worlds apart. And there was a difference between families with children and those without. In families with children, the parents would get more work opportunities. Father Miller’s Church only gave aid to children, and the small churches in each village would even help parents care for children aged three to five, giving them time to work and earn money to improve their lives.

Marcy had an epiphany: the Randall family valued children. Though she didn’t know why, Robert had five children. Choosing him couldn’t be wrong!

She used all her savings to help Robert build a house and establish residency. Sabins became a mercenary soldier, and the Robert family’s status in George Village skyrocketed. Later, Sabins pulled some strings to get Marcy’s biological son, Karl, a job as a cook’s assistant. Furthermore, Robert was very enthusiastic in his duties to her; Marcy’s married life could be described as harmonious. In Robert’s own words: “Actually, I’ve wanted to sleep with you for a long time.”

If Marcy were a man, she would have enlisted as a mercenary herself. Unfortunately, she wasn’t, and the Randell Fief’s mercenary army didn’t recruit women. So, Marcy resolved to be a good wife and a good mother. She always put her full effort into whatever she did; either she wouldn’t do it, or she would do it to the best of her ability. Managing her family was no different.

A wife should respect her husband, and Marcy did. A mother in a large family must not only be loving to her children but also fair. Although Robert’s children were not her own, Marcy had the magnanimity for it. She had once been a refugee leader.

Since Sabins and Karl both had their own careers, the least she could do was give Severin a chance to pursue his dream. The Robert family could afford it. They were Lord Randell’s subjects now, after all.

“Boy, how many times are you going to try? You can’t just go on forever, can you?” Robert asked sullenly.

“Five times, no, ten times. I’ll try ten more times,” Severin said, wiping his mouth, his face alight with excitement. “I’ve met two uncles, Wright and Tunan. They know so much! They’ve been helping me make paper these last two days. We haven’t succeeded yet, but Wright thinks that if we add two kinds of wild grass, we might just succeed!”

“If those two bachelors had that kind of ability, why would they help you?” Robert sneered dismissively.

Marcy frowned and asked, “Is Tunan a bald man with dark skin?”

“Yes, yes, yes… even his eyebrows are gone,” Severin nodded repeatedly and grinned. “Tunan has a huge appetite. I picked these two round melons for him.”

“Your brother is coming home today. Invite Wright and Tunan over for lunch. I’m planning to steam a goose and some pig’s trotters.” Marcy turned her head, her cow-like eyes staring at her husband as she ordered, “Go to the Node Reservoir and buy two green salmon first, then come back and get some sleep. The salmon need to be at least two feet long.”

“That’ll cost a lot of money…” Robert grumbled under his breath.

Marcy ignored him and said to Severin, “Finish eating and hurry off to work. Don’t let someone else take your spot.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Severin slung the wicker basket over his shoulder and went out the door.

Robert finally couldn’t help but ask, “Why are we inviting two bachelors to our house as guests? We’re a respectable family in the village now.”

“This week it was your turn for night watch outside the village. You come back and just sleep, what do you know about what’s happening in the village?” Marcy shot her husband a sidelong glance. “I heard that Father Davy introduced Wright and Tunan. Village Head George was especially polite to them, personally arranging their lodgings. It looks like they must be relatives of Father Davy.”

“Then we should definitely curry favor with them.” Robert’s spirits lifted. He stood up and said, “While there are fewer people in the morning, I’ll go pick out a few good fish and bring them back.”

Chapter 370: Observation

A simple fence divided George Village into an inner and outer section.

The pigsties, livestock sheds, vegetable patches, and haystacks of each family were located in the outer village, along with a watchtower, a slaughterhouse, a charcoal warehouse, and a pond. The inner village was the residential and living area for the villagers.

The families of the Randell Fief’s subjects were concentrated in the eastern district of the inner village. Currently, there were forty-six households with nearly four hundred people. Every family lived in a tiled-roof house with a courtyard, which looked both beautiful and impressive.

The southern district contained warehouses, a freight yard, a leather workshop, a blacksmith’s shop, stables, a Spiked Kidney Bean field, a meadow, a medium-sized cistern, and an Oilcloth workshop. Near George Village, there were seventy square kilometers of wild sisal fields, and half of the hired worker families in the village made a living by producing Oilcloth.

Most of these hired worker families lived in the shantytown on the west side of the village. The houses there were constructed from wooden posts tied together, with walls plastered with a mixture of wheat straw and clay. The roofs, originally covered with hay, were now tiled. The houses came in large, medium, and small sizes, about three hundred in total, arranged in a very neat and compact manner. Although the shanties in George Village were well-designed, warm in winter and cool in summer, they were only for living, and cooking fires were forbidden to prevent fire hazards.

George Village’s small Church, Village office, well, bakery, garrison post, tavern, and general store were all located in the village’s central plaza. This was the core area of George Village. Every morning, the Lord Village Head’s steward would announce the day’s work assignments at the Village office.

In the northern district, there were twenty green brick barracks. The barracks were well-ventilated and contained forty bunk beds, accommodating eighty people. All the single hired workers lived in this area. They were directly across from the garrison post and wedged between the eastern and western districts, and the adult men in both of these districts were required to undergo armed militia training.

The village layout prioritized internal order, but its ability to defend against external enemies was negligibly low. It didn’t even have traditional high walls and moats. Severin had heard that George Village did have high walls and a moat four years ago, but they were torn down not long after. This was because George Village was slated to be redeveloped from a village into a town, quadrupling its area to accommodate at least twelve thousand people.

Soon, I’ll be a townsperson too… Severin thought to himself as he walked.

The first rays of dawn illuminated the village. Humming an unknown tune, Severin arrived at the village plaza. He was not the only one up early; queues had already formed at all twenty windows of the bakery, and the calls of vendors, mingled with the aroma of food, drifted everywhere.

Severin weaved through the lines, looking around, which drew some discontent from the others.

“Hey kid, don’t even think about cutting in line!”

“I… I’m not buying bread, I’m looking for someone.” Spotting a conspicuous bald head at one of the windows, Severin waved and called out, “Uncle Tunan, Uncle Tunan…”

Tournans glanced back and said to the bakery clerk, “Give me seven pounds of black bread, two liters of milk, and six boiled goose eggs.”

“Can you eat all that?” the clerk asked, dumbfounded.

“I have a big family, what’s it to you?”

The clerk shook his head, placed two black bread loaves as thick as a man’s calf and six goose eggs into Tournans’ wicker basket, and poured milk into a ceramic pot. “That will be eight Copper Sol in total.”

Tournans counted out eight copper coins, picked up the ceramic pot, and shoved the wicker basket at Severin, who had just rushed over. “Hold this for me.”

“Uncle Tunan, where’s Uncle Wright?” Severin asked, hugging the basket and following behind Tournans, looking left and right. Uncle Wright was the truly knowledgeable one.

“He’s up ahead.”

Wright was wearing a coarse flax tunic, his strong arms exposed. He was squatting by the edge of the plaza without a care for his appearance, looking no different from the hired workers around him. Who would have thought that this well-built, handsome middle-aged man was actually over seventy years old, and was none other than the current Pope, a Legendary Priest, and a noble Knight—Clement.

“Uncle Wright, good morning,” Severin greeted enthusiastically, bowing to Clement.

“Good morning, Severin,” Clement said with a slight smile, patting Severin’s head.

“Wright, this is your breakfast.” Tournans broke off two pieces of black bread and handed them to Clement and Severin, respectively. The rest was all for him.

“I’ve already eaten…”

“Then eat a little more. You can’t work if you don’t eat.” Tournans devoured half a loaf of black bread in three bites, then chugged half a liter of milk, muttering, “The people in the shantytowns actually have to line up to buy their own breakfast. We might as well move into the workers’ barracks. Breakfast is delivered right to you, no queuing required.”

“Uncle Tunan, the bakery is open all day. You can buy your breakfast in advance.”

“I did. I ate it last night,” Tournans said nonchalantly. In that short time, he had polished off one and a half loaves of black bread, four large goose eggs, and half a pot of milk.

Severin gulped quietly, unslung the wicker basket, and handed it over along with the small piece of black bread in his hand. “Uncle Tunan, I’m really full. I also brought two round melons for you.”

“What huge round melons.” Tournans took a bite of a round melon the size of an adult’s head. The sweet juice burst forth, filling his mouth. “Tastes good.”

“Of course! We used a lot of manure on our round melons,” Severin said proudly.

“Severin, did you need us for something?” Clement asked gently after finishing his breakfast.

“Uncle Wright, I can earn eight Copper Sol after half a day’s work today. I want to try making paper again this afternoon, and I was hoping you could help me with some ideas,” Severin said in a rush, then looked at Clement with expectant eyes.

“You wish, kid. A half-day’s work doesn’t pay much, and it doesn’t even include lunch. What are we supposed to eat?” Tournans said, squinting at Severin.

“I’ll take care of your lunch,” Severin declared, puffing out his chest heroically. “My father and mother have invited you both to our home. They’ve prepared steamed goose, braised pig’s trotters, a two-foot-long green salmon… and Purple Cane wine…”

Tournans grinned. “Alright, then! It’s a deal.”

“Not so fast,” Clement said, looking into Severin’s eyes. “If we help you make the paper, how do you plan to reward us?”

“The reward Master Randall is offering for papermaking is eight hundred Gold Sol, sixty mu of fief land, and one school admission slot… The three of us can split the bounty and the land equally.” Severin rubbed his hands together nervously, saying with some embarrassment, “Or, you can have all the bounty, and I’ll take the admission slot… Uncles, the school in Laketon only accepts children from families who have established residency by building a house, and you can’t be over eighteen. The admission slot is useless to you… I… I want to learn how to read.”

“We’ll do as you first said and split the bounty and land equally,” Clement agreed with a nod.

Severin nearly jumped for joy. “That’s wonderful! Uncles, Father Miller’s morning prayer is about to start. Let’s go get our half-day work assignment, then find a spot near the front at the Church to receive the Blessing of Holy Light. The papermaking will definitely succeed!”

Watching the exuberant youth, Clement’s heart was as calm as still water.

Wealth moves the hearts of men. The Randell Fief was full of opportunities, and opportunities were always accompanied by strife and challenges. Severin had no idea what he was about to face. But no matter what befell him, Clement had no intention of interfering.

How the young Viscount Randell would resolve new conflicts was what the Pope wished to observe.

The George Village Church, with its white walls and red tiles, was the tallest structure in the village, comprised of a prayer hall, the priest’s living quarters, and an eight-meter-tall bell tower. In the eyes of the villagers, it was a holy place, but in reality, the village church didn’t even have a resident priest. It was managed by a church attendant and only provided daily medical relief aid and spiritual comfort to believers. The fief’s resident priest would occasionally visit the village church to preside over prayer ceremonies, which was a grand event for the entire village of rural believers.

The bell for morning prayer rang, and all the villagers of George Village gathered in the plaza in front of the Church. Father Miller, his hair gray and his face lined with wrinkles, wore priest’s robes and conducted the prayer and blessing according to the ritual requirements.

As the prayer deepened, the White Crystal scepter gradually bloomed with a platinum-gold holy light. It mingled with the brilliant morning sun, showering the entire plaza and bathing every believer in a sacred glow.

Over three thousand believers knelt on one knee, praising the supreme Lord of Radiance in unison.

“Praise be to our Lord! May Your radiance be eternal and guide our way.”

Tournans raised his head and looked at Father Miller, who was putting away his scepter, and whispered, “Such pure holy light… Is this the power of a God-favored? What a pity…”

The Blessing of Holy Light presided over by a priest was merely the most basic of divine arts. Besides providing illumination, it had no special effects; its influence on believers was more psychological. But Tournans could clearly feel that the holy light cast by Miller possessed the power to change reality. All the holy power in his body had been baptized, becoming purer, and for the moment they were bathed in the holy light, the villagers were all devout believers.

No wonder Miller can influence Viscount Randell’s perception of the Church. The supplies Viscount Randell donates to the Church far exceed that of any other viscount lord. However, a God-favored must never be allowed to master divine arts above the initial-rank. This was an ironclad rule passed down from the first Pope! Tournans thought.

A God-favored could issue oracles in the name of God, which would be impossible to verify and could lead to endless trouble. The Church had enough with one Pope; it was better if things like oracles didn’t exist…

Clement also felt it was a pity. The prayers of less than eight thousand people could not cause the Lord of Radiance to inject the power of faith into the unseen Pool of Holy Power; it could only be used to fill Holy Crystals. But the number of Holy Crystals was limited, and thus the vast majority of the power of faith was wasted.

Fortunately, the Randell Fief had a well-developed public transport system. Whenever believers had free time, they would take a public carriage to the Church in Laketon to attend mass and receive the Blessing of Holy Light. Once the permanent population of George Village surpassed eight thousand and it was redeveloped from a village into a town, the Church could set up a prayer formation, build a town-level church, and dispatch a priest to manage church affairs. The small villages, manors, and pastures under George Town would all be connected by public carriages, making it very convenient for villagers to go to the town church to pray or receive medical relief aid.

The Curia had already requested that all major dioceses implement the Randell Fief’s Day of Worship system. Each month was divided into four weeks. The first seven days of the week were workdays, while the eighth and ninth days were designated as the Day of Worship, calling on believers to attend evening prayer on the eighth day and morning prayer on the ninth. Currently, due to the lack of public carriage support in other fiefs, the system of worship was largely ineffectual. However, in the Randell Fief, Wildwillow City, the Chapman territory, and Goldwater City, the system had yielded significant results.

Clement was very curious as to why Viscount Randell could successfully implement public carriages while other lords complained endlessly. But he did not believe it was merely because Viscount Randell was a believer in the Supreme Lord.

Was Viscount Randell a believer in the Supreme Lord? Clement didn’t know, but Sylvia would certainly never believe in the Lord of Radiance. Her willingness to cooperate with the Church and implement public carriages must be driven by immense benefits. If he could figure out the reason, the problem could be easily solved.

After a period of observation and contemplation, Bishop Pello had come to a stunning conclusion: the York family could make a lot of money by implementing public carriages!

On one hand, the Centaur Hills was the front line against the Ant-man monsters. Refugees dared not stay for long; they would leave as soon as they had earned enough wages, yet the York family needed a large labor force. Implementing public carriages and the Day of Worship system helped to stabilize the populace.

On the other hand, after attending worship, the hired workers would take advantage of their break to shop and spend money at the market, which helped the lord recoup his capital.

Viscount Randell’s money flowed into the workers’ pockets, and the workers’ money flowed back into Viscount Randell’s pockets. Since the workers couldn’t save much money, and life in the Randell Fief was stable, they were naturally reluctant to leave. This was how he could provide free housing for the workers, donate large amounts of supplies and designate them for the Church to provide relief aid to the workers’ children, and build canals, open terraced fields, construct roads, and establish public carriages…

The wool comes from the sheep’s own back. Viscount Randell was doing infinite things with finite money!

While Clement was filled with joyful admiration, he was not without worry.

New policies always brought new problems. If the problems could not be solved, the policy could not be sustained. Clement faintly felt that the House of Randell’s development model would become a trend, but it would also encounter immense resistance, and that resistance might come from vassals and the Church itself.

However, this trend was built on the foundation of the New Agro-husbandry. Could the Church afford to give up population growth? Could it afford to give up the expansion of the Pool of Holy Power? Could it afford to give up the renewed glory of the human kingdoms?

Clement would not allow such a thing to happen. Therefore, he had to go deep into the lowest levels of the Randell Fief, identify problems in advance, devise solutions, close all the loopholes, and then lead the Church’s reform, making the Church the leader of a new era.

Chapter 371: A Chat

Clement and Severin had taken a half-day job harvesting Wolftail Grass in the terraced fields far from George Village.

A rain had fallen the previous night, leaving the air cool and the earth soft. The village aide led their group past fields of wheat and ground-potatoes, and fallow lands, until the terraced hills appeared in the distance.

The terraces spiraled around the hills, transforming them into a world of rhythmic curves. The broad leaves of the Wolftail Grass rippled in the wind, like a verdant pleated skirt worn by a curvaceous beauty. This beauty lay reclined upon the earth, majestic yet alluring, a feast for the eyes. It was a picturesque scene, so dazzlingly beautiful it was almost dizzying.

This was the beauty of humanity’s wisdom and power to transform nature and build their home.

The group paused for a moment to admire the view, then, leading their Camelopes, they ascended the undulating terraces along a winding path.

“Everyone knows the rules, but I’ll say it again. Don’t cut down the whole clump of Wolftail Grass, it’ll look bare and ugly! We only take the mature stalks, leaving the tender green ones so they can grow back. For every ten bundles of Wolftail Grass you harvest, you get one Copper Sol, or you can take one bundle of grass for yourself. The more you work, the more you earn. We finish at noon, and lunch is not included!” The village aide emphasized again, “No lunch included!”

“Tch, so what if lunch isn’t included? I’ve got steamed goose to eat at noon…” Tournans muttered, then grabbed his small sickle and began to swiftly harvest the green Wolftail Grass, his movements as practiced as an old farmer’s.

Wolftail Grass was a perennial plant with a lifespan of over four years. It grew tall with an extensive root system that reached deep into the soil, making it highly drought-resistant. Its stalks grew in clumps and regenerated quickly, much like Purple Cane; as long as the rhizomes were left, it would continue to grow.

The grass was tender, juicy, nutritious, and grew rapidly. It could be harvested eight times a year, with an annual yield as high as thirty thousand pounds per mu, making it a crucial green fodder for livestock and poultry. It could also be made into hay or silage. When chopped and ground, its stems and leaves could even be used to feed fish.

However, Wolftail Grass also demanded high soil fertility, and large-scale cultivation often led to barren farmland. Therefore, farmers in other fiefs generally didn’t deliberately plant it, only harvesting it from the wild.

The Wolftail Grass in the terraced fields stood over three meters tall, its leaves as wide as a hand and its stalks as thick as a pigeon’s egg. It was growing with exceptional vigor.

This was thanks to the well-developed animal husbandry and the manure collection system established by the public sanitation effort in the Randell Fief.

The population under Laketon’s jurisdiction exceeded eighty thousand, and the number of pigs, sheep, cattle, and horses was close to two hundred thousand. The Viscount, perhaps due to his elven bloodline, had almost draconian standards for environmental hygiene. He forbade humans and animals from relieving themselves in public; light offenders were fined, and serious ones were whipped.

This created a major headache for the Magistrate’s Office. The magistrate’s soldiers could barely manage the more than eighty thousand refugee laborers, let alone disobedient animals. So, Magistrate Munk requested that My Lady Lilia issue another decree: feces belonged to whoever collected them.

After this decree was promulgated, an underground influence controlled by the Magistrate’s Office completely monopolized the manure collection work in the Randell and Phoenix Fiefs. They were known as “the Grey Towels” because they habitually wore grey towels over their mouths and noses.

Driven by profit, the Grey Towels’ enthusiasm for their work soared to unprecedented heights. They used fines and their fists to help recalcitrant refugees develop the habit of using latrines, bought manure from swineherds and shepherds with copper coins, hired young children to pick up bird droppings, set up simple toilets in the fields, and bribed aides and intimidated laborers to ensure these simple toilets were used. They poured the collected liquid manure into cisterns, mixed it with green grass, straw, and sludge to create compost, and then sold it back to the village heads at double the price.

A joke circulated among the laborers: there were no bears in the Randell Fief because they couldn’t use toilets and couldn’t afford the fines.

The Grey Towels certainly couldn’t handle wild beasts, but they were indeed active in every village and town, on every road, and in every field, pasture, and terrace in the Centaur Hills.

According to the Church’s statistics, for every seventy people in the Centaur Hills, there was one Grey Towel. Though they were not well-liked, the benefits they brought were obvious.

In Tournans’s words: “The Randell Fief is so clean you love it at first sight, and the land is so fertile you can’t bear to leave.”

The fertilizer helped the Wolftail Grass on the terraces thrive. The grass could feed more livestock, creating more wealth and job opportunities, which in turn attracted more people, who produced more fertilizer, gradually forming a virtuous cycle.

And this was just one part of the new agropastoral system!

The new agro-husbandry will surely be welcomed by the lords, but the Randell Fief’s method of development cannot be hastily promoted. Sylvia has simply made the most suitable choice for the Centaur Hills, and there are still some problems that haven’t surfaced yet… Clement thought to himself.

By noon, Clement and Tournans had easily harvested thirty bundles of Wolftail Grass, while Severin, drenched in sweat, had only managed twenty-five.

“Robert’s boy, I can’t pay you for these five bundles.” The aide kicked the properly tied bundles of grass and said, “I can either put it on your tab, or you can take half a bundle back to feed your geese.”

“I was planning to take it home for the geese anyway,” Severin said with a smile, wiping the sweat from his face with a towel.

“Alright then. Get half a bundle for yourself.” The aide nodded and went on to settle accounts with the others. After paying the last person, he shouted, “Tie the Wolftail Grass to the Camelopes, take your own share, and let’s head back!”

The laborers pocketed their copper coins, shouldered their own bundles of Wolftail Grass, and walked back towards the village, chatting and laughing. In the wheat fields, scarecrows with comical, smiling faces silently watched them go.

At the village entrance, the group dispersed. Severin led the Pontiff and the Sacred Warrior to his family’s courtyard. A sleek, glossy black dog rushed out, one moment wagging its tail at its young master, the next growling and barking ferociously at the strangers.

“Go on, get,” Severin said, nudging the dog away. He unloaded the half-bundle of green Wolftail Grass and called out, “Father, Mother, Auntie Katie, our guests are here.”

A young man was the first to emerge. He was about twenty years old, with a strong build and a straight back. His brown hair was cut to an inch, with no sideburns or beard. His eyes were bright and full of spirit, giving him a clean-cut and vigorous appearance.

“Sabins, big brother, you’re back!” Severin exclaimed, hugging the young man.

“Severin, you’ve grown taller.” Robert’s eldest son smiled and patted his brother’s shoulder, then bowed slightly to the two guests. “Sabins greets you two, Mr. Wright and Mr. Tunan.”

The most prominent figures in the Randell Fief were the Lord Viscount, My Lady Phoenix, and Father Miller. As Father Miller’s assistant, Father Davy’s status was comparable to Lord Narsen’s, and since Davy often interacted with the hired soldiers, he garnered even more attention.

Sabins served in the mercenary legion, and though young, he was well-informed. He had long heard that Father Davy had personally arranged for two of his relatives to stay in George Village, and he had even sent someone to pass the news to Auntie Marcy. A family of humble origins like Robert’s especially needed to expand their connections. If they could establish a relationship with Father Davy’s relatives, it would be for the best.

When Sabins returned home and heard that Wright and Tunan were coming to visit, he was overjoyed and naturally dared not be discourteous.

At that moment, Robert and the other family members came out. “Welcome, welcome! I’m Robert… This is my eldest son, Sabins. He’s served in the legion for over two years and is a Corporal now… This is my third son, Severin, oh, you know him… I also have a second son who’s a cook’s helper in the main mess hall in Laketon… This is one of my wives, Katie, and those three little ones are my youngest sons and daughter…” Robert introduced them in a jumble of words.

Father Davy is a big shot, so his relatives will one day be on equal footing with the George Village head. Hehe, only a few families in George Village know about this… Robert thought, feeling both nervous and smug.

“I am Wright, and he is Tunan,” His Holiness the Pontiff introduced them amiably.

“Where are Mama Marcy and Asya?” Severin asked his father, looking around.

Before Robert could answer, the mistress of the house and her biological daughter emerged from the kitchen. When Marcy saw the bald, eyebrowless Tournans, her heart skipped a beat. For a moment, it was as if the man before her was a ferocious bear, and her steps faltered. Then, just as quickly, the feeling of dread vanished, leaving her relieved but also somewhat puzzled.

Marcy shook her head slightly and greeted them warmly. “Our two guests must be hungry, right? Lunch is ready. Please, come in.”

Clement and Tournans went to the basin to wash their hands with soap. Tournans’s lips didn’t move, but a subtle sound came from his throat: “That woman has entered a Savage state. A pity she was malnourished as a child and lacked training. She’s only a little stronger than an Elite Soldier. A wasted talent.”

Wild instinct was the only true measure of the degree of the Savage state. Some Sacred Warriors were physically stronger than Ferocious Warriors, but they were not Ferocious Humans. That was why Tournans had felt a kinship with Narsen at their first meeting, but no connection to Reno at all. In truth, Alchemical militia and Sacred Warriors could only be classified as secret art warriors.

According to the Church’s statistics, the ratio of humans entering the Savage state was one in seven thousand. With a population of over forty thousand in the Randell Fief, it was not surprising to find one such woman.

Clement nodded, and he and Tournans entered Robert’s living room.

The food on the table was a lavish spread: two whole steamed fat geese, a basin of braised pig’s trotters, two meter-long charcoal-grilled salmon, a stew of round melon and pork bones, raw sugar bread, assorted vegetables, a large platter of fruit, and a small keg of Purple Cane wine.

Tournans unceremoniously picked up a juicy pig’s trotter and gnawed on it, his mouth glistening with grease. “Delicious!” he praised.

The hosts smiled and began to eat heartily. After a few cups of wine, the atmosphere became congenial and relaxed. Only Asya sat with her lips pursed, looking sullen.

“What’s wrong with little sister Asya?” Severin asked, his face flushed after a drunken burp.

“That good-for-nothing Shilin was trying to woo her, and I caught him,” Marcy said, her tone full of disappointment for someone who wouldn’t live up to her potential.

“Shilin is not a good-for-nothing! He and his brother can save eight Silver Sols a month!” Asya retorted angrily. The young girl was quite pretty and looked nothing like her mother.

“Saving a lot of money isn’t a good thing. Those two brothers could leave the Randell Fief at any time. My dear daughter, your mother and I don’t want you to go back to a life of wandering,” Robert said, trying to persuade his adopted daughter. He then added scornfully, “Besides, can they save more money than our family?”

“Asya, you should find a family that is our social equal. I have many unmarried, handsome colleagues. When the Carnival in Laketon comes around, I’ll introduce you to them,” Sabins said with a smile, taking a sip of Purple Cane wine. It had become a trend for the upper-class families in the Randell Fief to intermarry, and he very much hoped that his beautiful sister could marry into a vassal family.

“People living in the North Quarter will never get ahead!” Severin was also very contemptuous of this toad lusting after a swan’s flesh. “The list for the next round of ‘building a house to establish residency’ is already set, and the mercenary legion isn’t recruiting anymore. Right, brother?”

Sabins nodded. “It’s said that this is the last round for building a house to establish residency. After this, to become an aide or a soldier, you’ll have to go to school first. The Shilin brothers won’t get a chance to make a name for themselves. If they marry and have children in the Randell Fief, maybe the next generation will have a chance.”

“Shilin can get ahead!” Asya said defiantly. “He and his brother have already discussed it. They’re planning to join the Swamp Scouts!”

“That’s even worse! I don’t want you to be a young widow,” Marcy sneered.

Clement suddenly asked, “Could you tell us your thoughts on the Randell Fief’s recruitment of stewards and soldiers?”

“I’m very familiar with Narsen, that dumb… hehe, lordship. His two boys, Jori and Motte, have even peed on me before. Father Davy has already discussed it with the lordship. We’ll lay low in George Village for a while, and then he’ll arrange positions for us. You know, we just got here, so it’s not good to be too obvious about some things. But we still need to understand what’s going on at the lower levels,” Tournans said, deliberately putting on a brash yet secretive air.

Robert’s gaze grew even more fervent as he spoke. “You’re right. Only by first understanding what’s happening at the bottom can one avoid being deceived.”

“Take our George Village, for example. The bunch living in the North Quarter do all the heavy labor and earn more money, but they have no ties and can leave at any time. They’re just considered refugees. The most common way for them to get ahead in the Randell Fief is to spend money and pull some strings to buy a wife in Wildwillow City, preferably one with a child. That way, they can move to the West Quarter.”

“The people in the West Quarter have children and a family to support, and they have to buy furniture, clothes, and so on. They can be considered registered subjects. The men of the household have the right to receive militia training. If they’re the right age and perform well, Lord Narsen will recruit them into the mercenary legion. Then their family can get a loan to build a house and move into our East Quarter.”

“Families in the East Quarter can rent eighty mu of farmland, which is the treatment for subjects. There are two paths for us to become vassals. One is to serve a full thirty years in the legion and receive a fief of twenty mu, or for our children to attend school, become aides, and serve for thirty years to receive a fief of ten mu.”

“As for the children of vassals, they can go to Silver Moon Manor for attendant training. When they come out, they’ll be at least a steward or a Centurion.”

“Besides that, one can also join the Swamp Scouts. As long as you serve for eight years, you can join the legion directly. Master Randall also rewards you with a courtyard house, two hundred Gold Sols, and the right to rent one hundred mu of land. As for those with skills and abilities, as long as Master Randall takes a liking to them, everything is negotiable.”

Clement nodded and asked Sabins, “You’ll be serving for thirty years. Aren’t you afraid of battle? What if you die in combat?”

“This is my home. My parents and my brothers and sisters are all under the protection of Master Randall. I must defend the master’s honor,” Sabins said solemnly. “If I die in battle, my son or my brother will take up my armor and spear and fight for the House of Randell! My merits will be passed on to them. The master and the Church guarantee this.”

“I heard that the hired soldiers and vassal soldiers in the Randell Fief receive an annual stipend?” Tournans asked.

Sabins smiled and shook his head. “In the Randell Fief, there are no vassal soldiers or hired soldiers, only the master’s soldiers. Whether you are the son of a vassal family or the son of a subject’s family, once you join the army, the treatment is the same. Our stipend is determined only by length of service and rank. For the first three years, I receive a military stipend of four Gold Sols a year. Every three years, the stipend increases by two Gold Sols. I am now a Corporal, managing an eight-man squad, so I get an additional annual allowance of two Gold Sols. Above Corporal, there is the Decurion who manages twenty-five men and the Centurion who manages eighty men. Six Centurions form a battalion of about five hundred men, led by a captain and two vice-captains. Six infantry battalions form a legion of three thousand men, commanded by a Legion Commander. Under the Legion Commander are five Adjutant Generals, who lead a cavalry battalion, two archer battalions, and two supply troop battalions.”

“Of course, we don’t have a full legion yet… only fifteen hundred infantry, three hundred cavalry, and a Swiftbird elite cavalry unit,” Sabins said with some embarrassment. “Actually, I really want to become a Swiftbird cavalryman. That’s the master’s personal guard.”

Clement thought for a moment, then asked, “Have the spots for this round of ‘building a house to establish residency’ already been decided internally?”

Robert was about to speak when Marcy kicked him under the table.

“I will not reveal it to anyone,” Clement’s voice was gentle and sincere, possessing a captivating charm that made people instinctively trust him.

“For the first round, many people hesitated and watched from the sidelines, which gave us a great opportunity. This time, the two hundred spots are still recommended by the Lord Village Head and the vassal lords. There’s a group of newer merchants in the Randell Fief, like Sid from our village. He has money and influence, he bought public carriages, opened shops, built a paper mill, and has the Lord Village Head wrapped around his finger. His relatives are literate and can do arithmetic, so of course, other families don’t stand a chance,” Robert blurted out all at once.

Clement sipped his Purple Cane wine and thought to himself, “So this is the problem.”

Chapter 372: Observation and Confusion (Part 1)

George Village was built on the east bank of the Silvermoon River and was the southernmost administrative village in the Randell Fief.

Traveling seventeen kilometers south from the South Gate of George Village along the riverbank, one would reach the mouth where the Silvermoon and Goldwater Rivers converged.

A dozen or so papermaking workshops were built behind the anti-fishman wall, one of which belonged to Sid’s family.

Sid’s family had been merchants for four generations. By Sid’s time, they had amassed a considerable fortune, owning five general stores, a butcher shop, a tavern, and two inns in Vistock, as well as employing a group of clerks and freemen craftsmen.

Behind every freeman merchant was a patron, and Sid’s family was no exception. Sid’s grandfather had wanted to offer up his family fortune in exchange for ten mu of fief land from his patron, the village head, as they had agreed upon beforehand. But the village head had refused, merely comforting him and telling his family to continue their business.

For an upper-class man, it was not easy to cultivate a capable freeman merchant, and the time for harvest had clearly not yet come. But when the time was ripe, Sid, with his vast family fortune, was no longer willing.

Yet no matter how fat the pig, it can never escape the butcher’s grasp. Just as Sid was living in constant dread, Duke Wellington dispatched men to seize commercial properties in Wildwillow City. Sid seized the opportunity. He first bribed the trade steward in Vistock and moved his entire family to Wildwillow City, then financed twenty public carriages to gain the protection of the Wildwillow City Church.

Every inch of land in Wildwillow City was worth its weight in gold. It was easy to make money, but expenses were also high. The twenty public carriages, in particular, were losing money every day, and Sid’s former patron had cut off his supply lines in Vistock. With his expenditures exceeding his income, Sid was like an ant on a hot pan. It was then that the leader of the city’s hooligans introduced him to Jack, the owner of a carriage company.

This Jack was a man of great resourcefulness, and he even knew the magistrate of Laketon. Jack told Sid about the policy of establishing residency by purchasing a house in the Randell Fief. He claimed that for five hundred Gold Sols, he could help Sid buy the status of a subject of the House of Randell. Only with that status could he acquire goods from the Randell Fief.

In order to secure a stable source of goods, Sid paid the five hundred Gold Sols without hesitation. Only after arriving in Laketon did he discover that many of his peers had already purchased houses in the Randell Fief.

After a period of currying favor, Sid came to understand the policies of the House of Randell.

Viscount Randell had held a Divine Notarization, declaring the protection of the private property of freemen, a decree to be overseen by the Laketon Church. The Randell Fief had two policies: establishing residency by building a house, and establishing residency by purchasing one. Those who built a house could serve as stewards, aides, or soldiers. Families who purchased a house only enjoyed the right to property protection, and could purchase goods and open shops in Laketon, but Laketon would collect a certain percentage as a transaction tax.

This meant that merchants could transfer their family fortunes to the Randell Fief without fear of being dispossessed through trickery or force.

However, the shrewd Sid believed that the transaction tax was the key.

Viscount Randell had stipulated that large-scale commodity transactions had to be settled at the freight yard, which would collect seven percent of the total value from the seller as a transaction tax. Small-scale commodity sales were not subject to a transaction tax, but shops were required to pay five percent of their total monthly revenue as a turnover tax.

This meant that the vassals of the Randell Fief no longer needed to secretly sell off produce from the fief’s lands, and it meant that freemen merchants were no longer led around by the nose by their noble lords. Business in the Randell Fief was all open and aboveboard.

Sid was overjoyed by this discovery. After discussing it with his family, he decided to transfer their accumulated wealth to Laketon. Some family members would continue doing business in Wildwillow City, while others would serve the lord, becoming his soldiers, aides, stewards, or even a village head.

Sid subsidized public carriages in the Randell Fief, opened shops, and bought houses for his brothers and sons to establish residency. He sent his beautiful daughter and niece to serve as personal maids for vassal families. He used every trick in the book just to secure a few slots for establishing residency by building a house.

Sid was clearly not the only freeman merchant with such ideas. They too had many relatives and children, all of whom were literate and numerate, and had even mastered several outstanding artisan skills. And the second—and final—batch of slots for establishing residency by building a house numbered only two hundred.

The merchants had to compete not only with their peers but also with other families; two hundred slots were simply not enough to go around. However, they had money, craftsmen, clerks, and connections. Besides building a house to establish residency, they could also hire skilled craftsmen from elsewhere and please the lord through invention and creation.

The hottest invention project in the Randell Fief at the moment was papermaking.

The afternoon sun was brilliant and scorching. Although the papermaking workshop was located in a mountain hollow by the river, the temperature was still very high. Kali hid in the shade of a tree, staring expectantly at the road leading to the valley mouth, but it was empty, without a single soul in sight. He sighed, turning his head to see his servant, Boar, gnawing gleefully on a glistening pig’s knuckle. Annoyed, he kicked him.

“Eat! Eat! Eat! All you know is eating, you useless fool!”

Boar, a dopey grin on his face, mumbled, “Hungry,” then buried his head and continued to tackle the pig’s knuckle.

“Kali, no need to take it out on the big idiot just because you can’t make paper.”

From the shade of another tree, Yorn jeered with a grin, “What? Are you still expecting someone to come and help you make paper?”

Kali’s face hardened, and he turned his head away, afraid he wouldn’t be able to resist smashing Yorn’s nose in. This bastard’s uncle was even richer than Sid and had connections with Moline, the chief of the first village, making him one of the most prominent merchants in Laketon.

Kali was Sid’s fourth son, thirty-two years old this year, and skilled at making parchment and cowhide paper. Sid had told Kali that the family had only managed to secure two slots for establishing residency by building a house: one for himself, and the other for Kali’s second uncle. But building a house couldn’t compare to making paper. If Kali could successfully make paper, he could achieve success overnight and become a vassal of the lord.

Kali’s blood boiled with excitement at the thought. He took a few clerks, two craftsmen, and the fool Boar and rushed to the location designated by the lord to build a papermaking workshop.

However, hide paper and straw paper were two completely different things. Kali’s skills were of no help at all in making paper from wheat straw. Fortunately, the lord himself had provided the basic process for papermaking: soaking, steeping, steaming, and boiling; pounding and beating into a pulp; draining and scooping the pulp; and drying into paper.

Every family designed their workshops according to this process, yet no one had actually succeeded in making paper. But no one gave up either.

The Lord Viscount had high hopes for papermaking and had personally provided the method. Wouldn’t giving up be the same as saying the Viscount’s method was wrong? What was a little money spent on keeping a few people? Who among those able to build a papermaking workshop was short on such a small sum?

Who would dare to quit now? It was a matter of attitude!

And so, Kali had been stuck at the papermaking workshop for over half a year, and the others were in the same boat. As time went on, Kali had another idea.

Since he couldn’t make paper himself, why not borrow ideas from others? He began to rent out his family’s workshop at an extremely low price, not even enough to cover the cost of the straw pulp. The villagers of George Village were indeed very interested in papermaking and came one after another to try their luck, but their performance was even worse than Kali’s craftsmen.

Yorn mocked him endlessly for this, but the more he did, the more determined Kali was to persist.

“Huh, someone’s actually coming,” Yorn said suddenly.

Kali quickly turned his head and saw three people carrying wicker baskets walking toward them.

“Severin, I was starting to think you weren’t coming,” Kali said, stepping forward to greet them enthusiastically. Trapped in the workshop, he was out of touch with the latest news and didn’t know Wright and Tunan’s backgrounds, assuming they were recently arrived refugees.

“Brother Kali, I’m about to succeed, how could I not come?” Severin said triumphantly. He waved at Boar and teased, “Big idiot, you still haven’t eaten your fill?”

Boar was over two meters tall and weighed at least five hundred pounds. His features were ugly, with one eye larger than the other, giving him a ferocious appearance. But Severin knew he was actually a good-natured fool who wouldn’t get angry even when beaten or scolded. If the beating was too severe, he would just hold his head and cry.

“Hehe, then let me be the first to congratulate you on your success,” Kali said with a dry laugh. He kicked Boar hard and barked, “You stupid pig, put down your knuckle! Help carry their things.”

Boar stuffed the half-eaten pig’s knuckle into his mouth, leaving only a bone sticking out, and reached out a hand the size of a cattail fan to take Severin’s wicker basket.

“No need for help, we’ll carry it ourselves.”

Tournans pushed Boar’s large hand aside. The giant took two steps back, clearing the path.

Kali was secretly alarmed. Boar had been abandoned at the Church poorhouse as a child. He was naturally simple-minded, couldn’t even pray properly, and ate a lot, so much so that even the priest at the poorhouse disliked him. Sid had adopted Boar at the Father’s request, hoping he could be a fighter, but to his surprise, this fool would rather be beaten than fight back. He was a complete freeloader.

Boar might be a fool, but his brute strength was real. As long as he stood his ground, five or six strong men couldn’t push him. Yet this bald man had casually shoved Boar aside… It seemed these two were not to be trifled with… He wondered what their relationship with the Robert family was… Outwardly, Kali remained impassive, but his mind was already racing with thoughts.

The papermaking workshop was built by the river, consisting of a small warehouse and a wooden shed. After the group entered the shed, Kali spoke up, “Same rules as always. Tools, straw pulp, and charcoal are all ready for you. Use them as you please, and my men will assist you. When you’re done, the rent is eight Copper Sols. But you are absolutely forbidden from adding any poisonous herbs!” As he spoke, he shot a look at his old craftsman.

The old craftsman bent down and looked into the wicker basket Severin had brought. “Sea buckthorn root, Fireleaf grass, Blueheart grass…” He looked up, troubled. “They’re not poisonous. However, the juices of Fireleaf and Blueheart are very harsh on the hands… And this paper is meant for wiping… buttocks… Kali, do you think this will work?”

“We’ll know once we try.”

Clement said faintly, “Pound the Fireleaf grass and Blueheart grass together and let them ferment in the pulp pool for ten hourglasses. Grind the sea buckthorn root and boil it into a gel. Add it to the water pool in a one-to-twenty ratio. Then, pour the fermented pulp into the water pool in a one-to-four ratio, stir it evenly, and you can try scooping the pulp and drying it. But be careful, the fermented pulp will burn a person’s skin. It’s best to wear a leather apron and deerskin gloves.”

The middle-aged man’s confident tone made it impossible not to believe him. Kali’s heart began to pound wildly; he felt that this time, they were very likely to succeed in making paper.

But if they succeed, what should I do? Kali cursed himself for not investigating these two’s backgrounds sooner. He gritted his teeth and ordered the old craftsman and his clerks, “Do as he says!”

When the boss spoke, the clerks had no choice but to obey. They started fires, fetched water, and ground herbs. Before long, the workshop was as hot as a steamer. Clement offered a few pointers occasionally, while Severin, on the other hand, stood there like an outsider, doing nothing.

Kali tried to strike up a conversation with the two of them several times but was met with lukewarm responses, failing to get any useful information.

Time flew by, and soon it was evening. Clement looked at the sky and said, “I’m afraid we’ll have to wait until tomorrow morning to see the results. We need to return to the village Church for evening prayer now. Severin, what about you?”

“I… I want to stay here,” Severin said weakly.

The Pope stared into the boy’s eyes and asked softly, “You’re skipping evening prayer. Will you skip morning prayer as well?”

“Well… I…” Severin’s heart was filled with guilt, and his expression became incredibly conflicted.

Kali’s eyes lit up. With a pained look, he advised, “Severin, you should go back and attend prayer. If we weren’t tied up here, we wouldn’t want to miss a single prayer to the Holy Light either. To atone for our impiety, we donated fifty Gold Sols to the Church as an offering for atonement. Father Miller even presided over a prayer of atonement for us.”

These words, however, strengthened Severin’s resolve. He said, “If I can successfully make paper, I’m willing to donate my entire share of the reward to the Church. If I don’t succeed, I will serve the Church for half a year to beg the merciful Lord of Radiance to forgive my sins.”

The Pope sighed inwardly and nodded. “Good luck, child.”

“Uncle Wright!” Severin chased them to the door, saying sheepishly, “Could you tell my parents that I’m staying here tonight and not coming home?”

“I will.”

Clement patted Severin’s head with pity and turned to leave the workshop. As Tournans was leaving, he glanced back at Severin one last time.

“Kid from the Robert family, you should have gone back with them,” Kali said in a low, haunting voice, leaning against the wall. The shadows concealed his face.

Chapter 373: Observation and Confusion (Part 2)

The next morning.

Morning prayer at the Church ended, and the villagers began to disperse.

Marcy returned home, pacing back and forth restlessly. Robert asked cautiously, “Chief… er, wife, what’s wrong?”

“I’m a little worried about Severin.” Marcy turned and retrieved a huge Iron-oak mallet from the tool shed. It was meant for driving stakes, but it worked just as well for bashing people.

“Mother, I’ll go with you,” Sabins said, walking over with a solemn expression, a refined steel longsword in his hand.

“Robert, put down the pitchfork! Neither of you are to go… Sabins, I want you to return to Laketon immediately. Robert, if anything happens, go find the village Garrison Commander. Do not, under any circumstances, try to argue with Village Head George or the constables.” Hoisting the mallet onto her shoulder, Marcy strode out of the house.

Robert watched his wife’s retreating back, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Sabins placed a hand on his father’s shoulder and said in a low voice, “Mom is right!”

“We’ve always listened to her…” A faint smile appeared on Robert’s face. He patted his adopted son’s shoulder and said, “We’re counting on you from now on!”

Sabins nodded, his expression resolute.

At the crack of dawn, Kali was startled awake by a clamor. He shot out of bed and rushed outside without a second thought. He had tossed and turned all night, not even taking off his clothes before he had drifted into a restless sleep.

“I did it! I made paper! I made paper!”

In the open space in front of the workshop, Severin was jumping for joy, laughing wildly. Kali stared intently at the yellowish-green paper in his hand!

“Kali, I did it! This is paper! It doesn’t burn your hands, it doesn’t burn your butt, see? This is paper!” Severin leaped over to Kali, rubbing the paper vigorously against his own arm before holding it to his mouth and kissing it fiercely several times.

Kali snatched the paper, murmuring in a trembling voice, “I’ve succeeded. I’ve succeeded. I’m going to be a vassal….”

At that moment, people from the other wooden huts emerged and began to gather around. Kali grabbed the dancing Severin and shouted sternly at Boar, “Big guy, guard the door! Don’t let anyone in!”

The giant crossed his arms, blocking the workshop entrance like a wall of flesh. He widened his eyes and turned down the corners of his mouth, trying to look fierce. It was the only intimidating expression he had ever learned.

Inside the workshop, the old craftsman and his apprentices were endlessly scooping paper from the vat, so absorbed they didn’t even notice Kali enter. The damp straw paper was stacked in squares, emitting a pungent odor. To Kali, however, it was the most wonderful smell in the world.

“Young Master Kali, congratulations. From now on, you’ll be Master Kali,” the old craftsman said in a low, fawning voice as he handed a freshly scooped sheet to Kali.

“It’s not poisonous, is it?” Kali asked gleefully, accepting the paper.

“Not poisonous, and it doesn’t burn the skin,” an apprentice chimed in, holding up his wet hands.

Kali laughed. “Excellent! I won’t forget any of you. When we get back, everyone will receive a bonus of one hundred Gold Sols to start. From now on, you’ll all work for me…” He turned to Severin with a smile. “Of course, Severin made the greatest contribution. I’ll give you two hundred Gold Sols now, and when I receive the reward, I’ll give you another three hundred as payment.” He pulled two Purple Gold Coins from his pocket and pressed them into Severin’s hand.

“Kali… what do you mean by this?” Severin asked, bewildered.

“Silly boy, those are Purple Gold Coins. One can be exchanged for one hundred Gold Sols. You should thank Master Kali…” the old craftsman prompted.

“I don’t want it!” Severin said, holding the coins back out to Kali.

“What? You think it’s not enough?” Kali asked, juggling the coins with a smirk.

“I’m the one who made the paper!” Severin’s voice trembled. “I rented your workshop! I made the paper!”

“You rented my workshop? Where’s the rent? Who can prove you rented my workshop?” Kali patted Severin’s cheek, his voice sinking. “Everyone here can prove that you were a helper I hired… I invented the paper!”

“The rent is here… eight Copper Sols…” Severin fumbled in his pocket and pulled out eight shiny copper coins.

An apprentice sneered, “Wages are paid after the work is done, but rent is paid in advance. Who ever heard of paying rent afterward? Heh, renting this workshop for just eight Copper Sols? The pulp alone is worth more than that. You rented a workshop to make paper for eight Copper Sols? Who would believe you?”

Severin’s hand froze in mid-air. With red-rimmed eyes, he roared, “You tricked me! I’m going to the Magistrate’s Office to report you! Uncle Wright and Uncle Tunan can testify for me!”

The men exchanged glances. Kali cleared his throat and said, “Severin, you say you made the paper. Then what did you do? The workshop is mine, the tools are mine, the pulp is mine, the charcoal is mine. We lit the furnace, we drew the water, we even made the dinner you ate. Besides standing around and watching, what did you do? You did nothing. How dare you claim you made the paper?”

“I… I…” Severin was speechless, at a complete loss.

“Take this money and go home. As for Wright and Tunan, I will naturally give them an explanation,” Kali said, once again pressing the Purple Gold Coins on Severin.

“No! I made the paper! This is the rent! I made the paper!” Severin, his voice cracking with tears, grabbed at Kali’s clothes, trying to shove the copper coins into his hands.

The two of them grappled, shoving each other. Severin, using all his strength, managed to push Kali off balance.

“Get lost!”

Infuriated, Kali shoved back hard. The boy staggered backward, his heel caught on a step, and he tumbled toward the vat of pulp.

“Watch out!” Kali cried out in alarm, lunging to grab him but missing.

“Ah!” Severin fell into the acrid vat, letting out a series of blood-curdling screams as his skin was rapidly corroded beyond recognition. Bright red blood churned in the grayish-green pulp, a shocking, gruesome sight.

“Quick, get him out! Get him out now!” Kali’s face drained of color. He wanted to pull him out, but the splashing pulp forced him and the apprentices to retreat.

It’s over! If he dies, it’s all over! I’ll be hanged…

Just then, Boar smashed through the doorframe, plunged his hands into the highly corrosive pulp, and fished out the mangled form of Severin.

“Quick! Quick! Boar, take him to the village Church! Father Miller will save him!” Kali yelled.

The giant clutched the pulp-covered boy tightly to his chest, crashed through the wooden fence, and took off on his thick legs, running toward George Village.

“Stupid oaf! Use the cart! Your skin will be burned off!” Kali stamped his feet in frustration and hurried to hitch the horse to the cart.

“You made the paper? What happened to that kid?” an onlooker asked.

“He fell into the pulp by accident!” the old craftsman replied casually.

That’s right, he fell in by himself. I didn’t push him! Looking at him, he probably won’t survive… If he dies, it’ll save me a lot of trouble. But I’m afraid Old Hank and the others won’t keep their mouths shut… No! I still have to take him to the Church… His mind in a whirl, Kali drove the cart in pursuit of Boar.

“Hurt… hurt… Boar hurts!” The simple-minded giant’s chest was covered in festering sores. No longer able to bear the excruciating pain of the chemical burns, his hands loosened, and Severin fell to the ground.

“Boar, throw the boy in the river first! Wash that pulp off him, then pull him out and we’ll take the cart!” Kali shouted from the cart as he caught up.

The giant picked Severin up and, with a heave, tossed the boy into the Silvermoon River. Not forgetting his young master’s orders, he waded into the river and pulled him out again.

“How dare you!” From a nearby mountain pass, a tall, strong woman charged toward the giant like an enraged mother bear.

The simple-minded Boar was kind-hearted and had never intentionally hurt anyone. Seeing the menacing woman, he instinctively lifted Severin over his head—it was his way of protecting his Young Master Kali.

Marcy had just rounded the pass when she saw an Ogre-like giant throw the pathetic Severin into the river, then pull him out, seemingly about to smash him to death on the ground. The blood rushed to her head. Raising her mallet high, she charged recklessly at the monster.

Thump!

Marcy slammed into the monster with all her strength. The creature didn’t even budge. Instead, a “cruel” smile spread across his face. At any moment, he would smash Severin into a pulp.

Rage, anxiety, and despair completely triggered Marcy’s savage state. Her heart pounded violently as power surged endlessly from within her body. The wooden mallet smashed into the monster’s face. Once! Twice! Three times!

BAM! BAM! BAM!

Blood and gore splattered everywhere. Boar crashed to the ground, his face utterly ruined.

“Boar!” Kali’s eyes widened in fury. He grabbed a pitchfork from the cart and lunged madly at the woman. “I’ll kill you!”

The deformed wooden mallet flew from Marcy’s hand, striking Kali in the chest like a cannonball. With his sternum shattered, Kali flew backward and slammed heavily onto the ground.

Time seemed to flow backward, and Kali was a child again.

No one in his family liked the gluttonous, useless simpleton, and neither did Kali. But he would give Boar food, because as long as the big idiot followed him around, he could show off in front of the other children. That was, until everyone figured out Boar’s temperament and started bullying them both. Boar didn’t know how to fight back, but he would always use his body to shield Kali. Later, he learned to lift him over his head so the others couldn’t hit him, though Kali would still get pelted with stones. No matter how much Kali insulted or beat him, Boar would just grin foolishly and continue to trail after him… He didn’t know when it started, but Kali began to see Boar as a brother, even though he would never admit it.

“Boar…” Kali coughed up blood, laboriously crawling toward the motionless giant as his consciousness slowly slid into a dark abyss.

Severin’s chest rose and fell, his breathing shallow. He was clinging tightly to eight copper coins.

He only called me mother yesterday… Looking at her adopted son, who looked as if he’d been skinned alive, Marcy couldn’t help but fall to her knees and wail.

A crowd slowly gathered, murmuring amongst themselves. No one noticed two men standing in the shade of a nearby tree.

“With injuries this severe, only His Holiness himself could save them with a Restoration spell,” Tournans said.

“Right now, I am not the Pope, but an observer,” Clement said calmly, his hands clasped behind his back. “Observing their satisfaction, joy, jealousy, anger, conflict, sorrow, despair, and death… observing the root cause behind it all, observing Viscount Randell’s response, observing our future.”

Tournans chuckled dryly. “I didn’t expect this woman to be able to enter a further savage state. If Viscount Randell spares her life and she cultivates the Mystic Form I redesigned, she could be the next Narsen.”

“The martial arts Mystic Form is an important gain for us. Are you asking me to hand it over to Viscount Randell completely?” Tournans asked.

“That depends on Victor’s choice,” Clement replied with a slight smile, then asked, “Miller won’t intervene, will he?”

“I have already hinted to him,” Tournans said with a solemn expression.

Clement pressed, not entirely reassured, “How did you hint?”

“I… I told Miller that the church was running low on medicine, and that the head priest should not abandon the Virtues of labor! I sent him out to gather herbs… No one will find a priest at the church,” Tournans said, rubbing his shiny, bald head. “Even if Miller were here, he couldn’t save them.”

Clement nodded. “Spiritual authority belongs to the Church, temporal power belongs to the lord. We have no reason to interfere with Victor’s judicial authority.”

“Uh… Your Holiness… over there…” Tournans’s eyes widened as he pointed toward the nearby hills.

Clement followed Tournans’s finger and saw an old man in a coarse flax priest’s robe, a wicker basket on his back, running down from the hills.

“Make way!” the old priest yelled as he ran, and the crowd of onlookers quickly parted for him.

“Thank goodness, Father Miller is here.”

“Quick, make way!”

“Wonderful! They can be saved now.”

The Pope and the First Sacred Warrior stared at each other in disbelief. Miller walked into the center of the scene, raised his hands, and intoned, “The Lord says, harm shall be far from the faithful.” Platinum-gold runes materialized at his fingertips, shining with a sacred light.

The platinum runes split into three and flew toward Kali, Boar, and Severin. The injuries on all three began to heal at a visible rate.

“A miracle!”

“Praise the Supreme Lord! May the Lord’s light shine upon the world forever,” the people chanted in unison, falling to their knees.

“A level-two healing spell! How is that possible?!” Tournans blurted out in shock.

“A God-favored… has it already reached this level?” Clement murmured. He looked up, his eyes now a platinum-gold color.

A level-five True Sight spell could expose any extraordinary being, be they Knight, extraordinary creature, or Wizard, to the caster’s vision.

“How can this be?” Clement’s eyes returned to normal as he spoke in disbelief.

The Pope himself was not confident he could save three dying people at once, yet Miller had done it with ease using only a level-two healing spell. Clement wouldn’t have been surprised if Miller’s holy power was more dazzling than his own, but his holy sigil was only level two. His holy power, while pure, was dim and faint, like a candle flame about to be extinguished.

Was this God-favored on the verge of fading away? How could a God-favored on the brink of demise possess such power?!

Chapter 374: The Verdict

Two days later, Lord Narsen, commander of the Randell Fief’s First Legion; Inspector Linda; Magistrate Munk; Village Head George; and Family General Steward Lilia all appeared in the study of Silver Moon Manor to be questioned by Victor, Nicole, and Sylvia.

“My dear, I’ll just be an audience member.”

Sylvia’s gaze swept over everyone before she gave Victor a gentle smile. Her slender, pale white hand held a silver spoon, slowly stirring the coffee Nicole had presented to her.

Everyone’s heart went cold, and they dared not even breathe. The atmosphere in the study was almost solid enough to freeze.

Sylvia held court at Rose Manor and usually kept to herself. Even high-ranking members of the York family rarely saw her, let alone members of the Randall family. Only Narsen and Lilia knew that Sylvia was one of Gambis’s three Gold Knights. The others only knew that this breathtakingly beautiful woman held an extremely noble status, possibly that of the current Duchess of York.

That was enough!

The York family was the House of Randell’s greatest backer, and their political, military, and economic ties were extremely close. The mid-to-high-level members of the Randall family had the most direct understanding of this. In the past, they had been refugees struggling at the bottom of Black Fortress Town. Later, when the Ant-man tide swept through the Randell Fief, they received the York family’s protection.

The upper echelon of the Randall family had to be cautious even in Nicole’s presence, let alone the Duchess of York’s. They simply couldn’t understand why a minor incident in George Village would alert all three of these major figures at once.

Nothing involving the Pope and the First Sacred Warrior is a small matter!

Narsen knew this, but he wouldn’t say it. With Victor in charge, he didn’t need to worry.

At that moment, Victor was staring blankly at two items on his desk, lost in thought.

One was a square sheet of yellowish-green paper. Its texture was coarse, and one could still see flattened fragments of wheat straw on its surface. Although its quality was crude, it was, without a doubt, a piece of straw paper.

Seeing paper again, Victor couldn’t help but feel a wave of emotion. This was practically the only physical evidence of his transmigration, and it would have a profound impact on this other world.

Extraordinary power had fractured the human race in this world. The vast majority of ordinary people were dependent on the extraordinary, while the few extraordinary individuals guided the course of human civilization. However, whether they were the Chosen, Knights, or clergy of the Church, they held the reins of power in the human kingdoms but were only interested in obtaining greater extraordinary strength. They had little motivation to advance the development of mortal society.

To take the simplest example, although hide paper was expensive, the extraordinary could afford it, so they naturally saw no need to invent low-cost straw paper.

On Earth, paper was the most common carrier of information. Its appearance promoted cultural dissemination and the accumulation of knowledge. With the invention of printing, expensive books found their way into ordinary homes, laying the foundation for the flourishing development of human civilization.

The straw paper on the desk held the same significance for the human society of this world.

The intelligence of ordinary people was not fundamentally different from that of the extraordinary; they were equally capable of creating great wonders of civilization. They only appeared ignorant and uneducated due to material constraints. For instance, an ordinary farmer might discover that bee pollination helps fruit grow and wish to study the principles behind it. But he would be too busy with his livelihood, lacking a sufficient amount of time for systematic experiments and records. By the time he died of old age, the technology of artificial pollination would have died in its cradle. If he had paper, he could have recorded all his ideas, experimental processes, and observations, allowing future generations to continue and complete the artificial pollination experiments.

It could be said that paper greatly increased the breadth and depth of mortal civilization. Victor could even imagine someone in the future making a similar remark: “I am standing on the shoulders of giants.”

This paper would usher in a new era!

Of course, the current straw paper could only be used for wiping one’s bottom. But now that straw paper existed, could white paper be far behind?

“My dear, this is straw paper made from wheat straw… specifically for people’s sanitary needs? What price are you planning to set?”

Nicole, dressed in a light green cinched-waist dress, wore a curious expression. What she was really asking was: would the refugee contract workers be willing to spend money to wipe their bottoms?

No one understood why Victor concerned himself with what his subjects used to wipe themselves.

Who would care what commoners used to clean themselves?

If it weren’t for the sake of enlightening the populace, increasing the strength of the human kingdoms, and dealing with unknown invaders, Victor would never have made paper, let alone created the Subject Employment System. In fact, being a leisurely noble lord, hunting a bit, fishing a little, and having trysts with beautiful lovers was much more in line with his fantasies.

“Habits can be cultivated.” Victor put down the straw paper and said with a smile, “Father Davy created soap for washing from pig pancreas and Spiked Kidney Bean powder. At first, no one was interested, but isn’t it wildly popular now? Almost every contract worker’s family buys a few bars of soap; otherwise, they’d be too embarrassed to greet people.”

Nicole picked up the straw paper, examined it for a moment, and mused, “Dry, light, and uniform, easy to store and transport… I get it! Turning wheat straw into straw paper can be a way to store fuel. When we expand into the Southern Continent, the efficiency and cost of transporting and storing straw paper will be far lower than that of wheat straw.” She looked at Victor with a look full of tender affection and said admiringly, “My dear, you’re so smart!”

Sylvia gave Nicole an appreciative glance. The others were instantly filled with awe at the lord’s foresight. If this were any other occasion, they would never have passed up the opportunity for a bit of flattery.

Ahem, it’s not like this is mass-produced by machines. The straw paper really is for wiping bottoms… Victor gave a dry cough, picked up the two Purple Gold Coins from the desk, and weighed them gently in his hand.

These two Purple Gold Coins were only half the size of the noble-issue ones. Their dim luster indicated a pitifully low Adamantine content, but they were still minted by the Gambis Royal Family for common vassals to use and could be exchanged for one hundred Gold Sol.

Victor had once mocked the Auguste family for not understanding national bonds, but that was clearly a misconception. The Noble Purple Gold Coins and the Vassal Purple Gold Coins circumvented the restrictions on the Church and lords jointly issuing currency. With the royal family’s credit as a guarantee, they served the dual function of currency and national bonds.

Victor was particularly desperate to have the right to issue currency, a need based on the real situation in the Randell Fief.

The Randall family had paid a large amount of wages to tens of thousands of contract workers, and transactions within the territory were becoming more and more frequent. The existing monetary system could no longer meet the actual needs of the market. Take goose eggs, for example. One copper coin could buy eight raw goose eggs or six cooked ones. It was simply impossible to buy a single goose egg.

One must not underestimate the business of a single goose egg. Behind it represented countless aborted transactions, simply because there was no smaller denomination of currency in circulation. If the Randell Fief had small-denomination currency, all sorts of small vendors would appear in the market, selling spiced goose eggs, small toys, soap, vegetables… They would enrich the commercial activities of the Randell Fief and increase the Randall family’s tax revenue.

Victor was different from other lords; he taxed transactions, while other lords collected shop rent and goods transit fees. They accepted payment in kind, and bartering was a common mode of exchange in the market.

How could one collect taxes from bartering? And without taxes, how could the mercenary army be maintained?

The reality was that merchants in the Randell Fief had to resort to a certain degree of bartering during transactions; otherwise, they couldn’t make change. Not only were the transaction records a mess, but the taxes paid also included goods. As a result, the tax collectors often ran around the streets carrying things like goose eggs, goose feathers, cured meat, and lizard skins.

Once the weather got hot, these “taxes” were donated to the Church…

Anyone could mint Copper Sols, but the problem was that copper was currently the cheapest metal, even cheaper than iron. The purchasing power of a Copper Sol was equivalent to its actual value.

Issuing banknotes? Victor didn’t even have to think about it. It wasn’t because of papermaking and printing technology, but because it would be too easy to counterfeit.

Under the same conditions, what you can make, others can make too. The Americans invented the atomic bomb, but didn’t other countries get it eventually? A transmigrator’s technological monopoly was wishful thinking! Even if the Alchemical Empire’s Thorium equipment came into being, it wouldn’t be many years before other major powers could forge Thorium equipment.

Issuing banknotes would only bankrupt the Randall family, not to mention that the Church and other lords wouldn’t allow him to issue a new currency. Victor only hoped to get the Church’s support to let him mint smaller, thinner copper coins that would circulate only in the Randell Fief, just like the Vassal Purple Gold Coins before him.

Papermaking was a matter of scientific research and education, and currency was a matter of trade and finance. Neither was an imminent problem.

What Victor urgently needed to solve now was the legal problem in the Randell Fief.

“Are these the Purple Gold Coins the Sid family used to bribe the Robert family?” he asked with great interest.

“Yes.” Magistrate Munk bowed and replied, “Sid’s fourth son, Kali, set a trap. He wanted to learn their method of papermaking, so he deliberately leased out a papermaking workshop. Robert’s third son, Severin, had a breakthrough and refused to leave the workshop. Kali wanted to use this money to buy him out, but Severin adamantly refused. As they struggled with each other, Severin accidentally fell into the pulp vat, which triggered the subsequent events.”

Victor nodded and asked again, “Are you sure no one died?”

“No one died. Father Miller happened to be gathering herbs nearby. He used his divine arts to save the three injured. Except for Boar, who is still unconscious, the others have recovered their health. The attacker, Marcy, is currently being held in the dungeon of the Magistrate’s Office.”

“Then…”

An inscrutable light flashed in Victor’s eyes. He tapped the desk and asked, “Can someone tell me why this matter has caused such an uproar that even the people of Baroness Fynikos’s fief are discussing it?!”

“A miracle!” Nicole’s red lips parted as she spoke bluntly. “The priests of the Church have been publicizing the miracle to the populace and secretly guiding public discussion on this matter. Now everyone is waiting for our verdict.”

The mastermind behind this must be His Holiness the Pope. Why is he adding fuel to the fire, forcing me to take a stand? Fortunately, Miller saved those three people, otherwise I would have been backed into a corner. With no one dead, I have more options… No, wait, wouldn’t it have suited the Pope’s wishes better if someone had died? Why didn’t he stop Miller? Or is it that old Miller doesn’t give a damn about the Pope? Ahem… that must be it. Miller dared to tell me the secret of the Pool of Holy Power; he probably isn’t afraid of the Pope himself… Yes, that’s the way a devout priest should act. Old Miller is simply too adorable… Victor reined in his thoughts and returned to the case itself.

“Munk, I’d like to hear your opinion,” he said.

The magistrate bowed slightly and said, “Marcy’s violent assault was based on a misunderstanding, but it is a fact. If it weren’t for Father Miller, Kali and Boar would have died then and there. Therefore, I recommend Marcy be sentenced to hang, and the Robert family should have no right to the papermaking reward. Kali set a trap and nearly caused Severin’s death. His actions were despicable, but he did not intentionally harm Severin. The Sid family can be ordered to compensate the Robert family with two hundred Gold Sol, and Kali should likewise have no right to the papermaking reward.”

“Hmph! You took Sid’s dirty money.”

Narsen had never liked Monkey, believing that Monkey hadn’t shared in their hardships and didn’t deserve to be above the work-point-system families. He jumped in at this moment to accuse him, “Don’t think I don’t know. You not only take bribes from merchants, but The Grey Towels and the people traffickers all pay you tribute.”

“My lord, the Inspector is aware of my collecting money,” Monkey responded faintly. “And I don’t take that money for myself. The soldiers of the Magistrate’s Office all get a share, including your old subordinates. It’s standard practice for the Magistrate’s Office to collect protection money. If I didn’t, the merchants and gangs wouldn’t be at ease. Collecting money is also a rein on them. If I just raise the fee, these people have to behave a little better. I don’t have to go around shouting about cracking down on them, and the Master doesn’t have to be scolded by Father Miller.”

“Also, those people traffickers are just brokers. They introduce jobs to refugees and women to bachelors. You should know that it’s normal for refugee men and women to get together and break up. Refugee women want a better life, too. Giving their men a little money so they’ll let them go gives the bachelors of the Randell Fief a chance to marry, have children, and settle down. These are all matters of mutual consent. How can the brokers be considered people traffickers? Without these brokers, where would the peace in the Randell Fief be?”

Monkey was a smart man. He was well aware that he was only responsible to Victor and couldn’t bow to anyone else, so his relationships with others had always been cool. Victor hadn’t given Monkey a single patch of land. He currently only received an annual salary of two hundred Gold Sol, so Victor allowed him to collect protection money.

This money was both a rein the magistrate had around the necks of the merchants and gangs, and a rein Victor had around the magistrate’s neck. If Monkey acted with unimpeachable integrity and left no leverage, Victor would have replaced him instead.

“That’s enough, Narsen. Give me your opinion.” Victor raised a hand to signal Narsen to stop.

Narsen said loudly, “My lord, I don’t care about the papermaking. It was wrong for Marcy to commit violence, but she was only trying to protect her family. If the people of Randell don’t even have the courage to protect their families, can we still expect them to become qualified soldiers? Executing Marcy will only turn the populace into a bunch of rabbits! I believe Marcy must be released without charge!”

“That makes sense,” Victor said with a smile, turning to Linda. “Inspector, what do you think?”

“My lord, I will not express any opinion, because I do not know who is right and who is wrong,” Linda said, taking a step forward. “But there are some circumstances I must clarify.”

“First, the Robert family’s eldest son, Sabins, found Centurion Rhett. Rhett, carrying one hundred Gold Sol, went to see Narsen. Rhett is an old subordinate from our War Bear Legion. Narsen agreed to help Sabins, but he did not take Rhett’s money.”

“Linda, you…”

Narsen’s eyes widened in alarm, but Linda ignored him and continued, “Sid took one thousand Gold Sol to ask Lord Munk for help. Lord Munk accepted it.”

“The Sid family has that much money?” Victor asked in surprise.

“This money was actually pooled together by all eighty-two merchant households. They promised to give me another one thousand Gold Sol after the matter is settled,” Monkey explained.

“But why?”

“Because they can’t bear to part with their quotas for building a house to establish residency,” Lilia interjected. “Whether the Sid family gets the reward for papermaking is irrelevant to the merchants. They don’t want this incident to affect their own chances of establishing residency. So, these merchants have been scattering money everywhere, begging for help, and they even came to me.”

“So that’s how it is… It seems our Randell Fief does have some appeal,” Victor said, pleased with himself, and chuckled. “George, what about you?”

Village Head George said with some unease, “Sid did offer me four hundred Gold Sol, but I didn’t take it! My lord, I did recommend the Sid family for residency; their abilities are stronger than most villagers. However, this incident has incurred public wrath. The residents of the village’s east, north, and west districts are very dissatisfied with the Sid family for setting a trap to deceive people. No matter how capable Sid is, he can’t outweigh so many villagers. I have no right to question Marcy’s actions, but I believe the reward for papermaking should go to the Robert family.”

Victor remained noncommittal and turned his gaze to Lilia. “My dear, your opinion.”

With Sylvia and Nicole present, Lilia didn’t dare act spoiled. She said calmly, “My lord, I hope you can pardon Marcy from the death penalty… I want a female guard. My parents died early. When bandits attacked the mercenary encampment, Aunt Lucy was killed by them while saving me. I see a shadow of Aunt Lucy in Marcy…”

Linda’s eyes immediately reddened. Narsen knelt on one knee and said in a low voice, “My lord, I beg you to pardon Marcy. I will make no other requests.”

Victor turned to Nicole and asked, “My dear, what’s your opinion?”

“I normally wouldn’t interfere in this kind of matter; I’d just leave it to the magistrate and the Father to handle,” Nicole said with a slight frown, then smiled. “Since you’re asking for my opinion, how about this: the papermaking reward is split between the two families. Kali unintentionally pushed Severin into the pulp vat, but Severin didn’t die, so Kali should receive twenty lashes of the whip. Boar saved a life, so he is meritorious and faultless. Marcy is guilty of assault, but Boar also didn’t die, he’s just unconscious… But he is, after all, a simpleton… Marcy will be spared from hanging and sentenced to twenty years of hard labor in service to our sister Lilia.”

“That suits me perfectly.” Victor nodded and ordered, “The verdict is as you’ve said. In addition, open up another two hundred spots for refugee contract worker families to build a house and establish residency.”

George hesitated for a moment and asked weakly, “My lord, what about… Wright and Tunan? They were the ones who invented paper. Father Davy might have something to say about this.”

“All of you may leave,” Victor said with a wave of his hand, thinking to himself, *“I’m* the one who invented paper. His Holiness the Pope is merely standing on my shoulders.”

After Narsen and the others had left the study, Victor turned to Sylvia for counsel. “My dear, why did His Holiness the Pope blow this matter up? What kind of verdict did he want to see?”

Sylvia set down her coffee cup and shook her head. “The verdict isn’t important. Who delivers the verdict is what’s important. Clement just wanted to see if you would issue the verdict personally.”

“If you had handed this case over to the magistrate, then as far as the Church is concerned, nothing would have happened. But since you judged it personally, Clement will have to carefully weigh his options.”

“My Lady, what does His Holiness the Pope have to weigh?” Nicole asked, feeling uneasy. “Will this affect Victor?”

Sylvia nodded. “There will be some effect, yes. The worst-case scenario is that the priests will call on the populace to refuse to join the Randall family’s mercenary company.”

Victor shot to his feet. “On what grounds?”

Sylvia looked at her fuming lover and gave a beautiful smile. “My dear, haven’t you realized it yet? You have already touched the Church’s bottom line, weakening the faith of the refugees, and by personally issuing this verdict, you have shown your determination to continue! Of course Clement has to weigh his options carefully…”

“However, this could be a bad thing, or it could be a good thing… but first, you have to convince me!”

Chapter 375: Superstructure

“The law upholds fairness and justice.”

“Whose fairness? Whose justice?”

In the eyes of the refugee workers, Kali had employed deceitful means to seize the credit for Severin’s paper-making and had even pushed Severin into the pulp pit; he absolutely deserved to die for his crimes. The fact that Cali had not intended to cause harm and had tried to save Severin’s life was of no concern to the refugee workers. After all, Kali had deceived not only Severin but all of them.

In the eyes of the merchants, Kali’s actions were proper and reasonable. The lord had said to make paper, and Kali had provided the men and money. The lord had said to protect the water source, so Kali built the paper mill at the mouth of the Silvermoon River, where he toiled for over half a year. But the lord had never said one couldn’t borrow ideas from others. When Kali offered to rent out the paper mill for eight Copper Sols, he was simply following the rules of merchants and caravans: “Let the buyer beware.” Rent a paper mill for a mere eight Copper Sols? Anyone who fell for that was a fool who deserved to be swindled! Besides, Severin had done nothing; the success of the papermaking had nothing to do with him. Kali not only gave Severin two hundred Gold Sols but was also prepared to negotiate with Wright and Tunan. By all accounts, he was a merchant of his word. As for Severin nearly losing his life, the merchants turned a blind eye.

Each side had its own legitimate argument. According to refugee customs, murder cases were to be supervised by the Church and judged by the magistrate, but the Church ignored it, leaving the magistrate afraid to pass sentence. The village head in the Randell Fief had no law enforcement authority, and with both parties pulling strings and pleading their cases, not to mention the Church adding fuel to the fire from the shadows, the matter finally spiraled out of control. Munk had no choice but to lay the case on the lord’s desk.

It was then that Village Head George showed his true colors. Despite his usual warm relations with Sid’s family, he had to uphold his authority as village head in the face of the villagers’ outrage. He decisively abandoned Sid’s family, declaring that the papermaking reward should go to Robert’s family.

The merchants offered heavy bribes to the Magistrate’s Office, but Munk did not want House of Randell to have too many vassals, as this would weaken the Magistrate’s Office’s power. Thus, he advised the lord to retract the papermaking reward from both families.

The mercenary legion was the lifeblood of the War Bear Mercenaries. Its commander, Narsen, stood firmly with his soldiers, arguing that Marcy was innocent of murder.

Linda’s life was now prosperous and stable; she had a fief, a title, and a child. With her husband throwing himself into the fray, she had to secure a path of retreat for their family. She stated the facts objectively, revealing her husband’s past dealings without offering any opinion of her own.

As the family’s general manager, Lilia was reluctant to lose the merchants’ wealth and connections, yet she didn’t want to alienate the members of the War Bear. So she played the emotional card, admitting Marcy’s guilt but begging her husband to pardon her crime.

Boar was the most wronged of all. He had saved a life only to be nearly killed himself, and if Miller hadn’t intervened, he would have died on the spot. Yet not a single person sought justice for him, because he was a fool who didn’t even know how to pray.

A hundred people had a hundred versions of justice, and a thousand people had a thousand versions of fairness, but in the Randell Fief, there was only Victor’s fairness and justice.

On the surface, this case was a conflict between two families. In essence, however, it reflected the contradiction between the vassalage system and the Leasehold Employment System.

The advantage of the vassalage system was that it reduced the liege lord’s administrative and military costs and allowed him to expand his influence by enfeoffing land and titles. For example, when the King granted a Pioneering Knight a fief, the kingdom’s territory expanded without the King having to do a thing.

However, a liege lord seeking convenience would sacrifice efficiency. The vassalage system led to class ossification, hereditary positions, and narrow channels for the subjects’ advancement. If the Randell Fief had adopted the feudal system, it would have taken decades to reach its current scale. But Victor had his Alchemical militia and Alchemical Dragon-Lizards; he abandoned the investiture of Knights and walked the path of centralized power.

The Leasehold Employment System was a centralized system disguised in the cloak of vassalage. It still had vassals, subjects, and freemen. But Victor separated military, political, and judicial power, broke the tradition of hereditary positions, cultivated and promoted talent, and turned fiefs into simple land leases. Officials who slacked off would be replaced and could only return home to farm.

The Leasehold Employment System was dynamic due to its intense competition, and its channels for advancement were open to all. But no one knew this!

The refugees who flooded into the Randell Fief only thought that by marrying and having children, they could build a house to establish residency. By establishing residency, they could become subjects. As subjects, they could become stewards and soldiers. And after thirty years of service, they would become vassal lords. In the refugees’ minds, a lord would never have too many vassals. If they missed this opportunity, they would regret it for the rest of their lives.

The vassalage system had been in place for thousands of years and was deeply ingrained in the people’s minds. In the Randell Fief, it exhibited immense inertia.

The work-point-system families were the first to band together. They sent their children to Silver Moon Manor to become attendants, married the household maids trained by Elina, or intermarried among themselves to monopolize resources and solidify their own status. Even if a young attendant couldn’t inherit his father’s position, he could still become a steward or a Centurion.

This was something that couldn’t be helped. Victor couldn’t just allow other powers to infiltrate the core members of the Randall family. Therefore, he was preparing to end the policy of building a house to establish residency. In the future, the family’s core members would have to marry household maids trained at Silver Moon Manor; otherwise, they could forget about holding any important position.

The populace interpreted this signal to mean: My Lord is limiting the final batch of vassal slots. They overlooked the two paths of advancement through the militia and through study, single-mindedly trying to squeeze onto the last train of establishing residency.

The bachelors were busy buying wives and children, while the refugee families were focused on currying favor with their sponsors. When the merchant families suddenly snapped up all the residency slots, the conflict between the two sides instantly erupted. Although Robert’s family looked down on the refugee families and bachelors, as long as they were fighting against the merchants, they would receive everyone’s support.

No matter how high the administrative efficiency of the Leasehold Employment System, it couldn’t change a person’s habits in a short time. The rapid development and population explosion of the Randell Fief had, in fact, brought many destabilizing factors.

The merchants, hired-worker families, and bachelors still followed the survival rules of the refugee class. They were accustomed to fighting, just like that Marcy. She had already established residency, but without asking any questions, she took down two people with ruthless, merciless blows, leaving no room for quarter. She firmly believed Kali would kill her to silence her in his bid for vassal status, because that is exactly what she would have done.

Kali possessed the standard consciousness of a freeman merchant, while Marcy had the typical consciousness of a refugee leader.

For thousands of years, the ideology and legal system formed by vassalage continued to influence every person in the Randell Fief. While the economic foundation of the Leasehold Employment System was being built, its superstructure was still a distant prospect.

If Victor allowed this case to go unchecked, the bloody conflicts would escalate, and the final result would be the vassalage system replacing the fragile Leasehold Employment System.

Victor could not accept such a failure. He wanted to bring the merchants, craftsmen, refugee families, and bachelors all into his fold. Nicole’s verdict was impartial, took all parties into account, and served Victor’s interests perfectly.

Victims? Who were the victims? Were victims truly important to a lord?

Of course, the problem of the vassalage system’s inertia was not solved. By opening up an additional two hundred residency slots, Victor could temporarily alleviate the conflict. He needed time to build the superstructure of the Randall family, especially its laws and regulations.

On this point, no one could help Victor at present. He had to personally handle many typical cases and formulate related policies and laws.

For example, the vast majority of bloody conflicts in the Randell Fief over the past two years were related to women. Bachelor workers saved up money to buy a wife and children, but some of these women, upon arriving in the Randell Fief, would leave them for men from subject or other worker families. It was common for refugee men and women to get together and break up, as the women were accustomed to seeking partners of higher status. But the bachelors’ hopes for advancement were almost completely cut off. They didn’t dare challenge the families who had already established residency, but they had no qualms about drawing their blades on other worker families.

After the Magistrate’s Office hanged a few murderers, Victor promptly issued the Refugee Marriage Decree: refugee marriages were protected; a husband could not abuse his wife or adopted children, or he would face a flogging and the marriage would be automatically dissolved; a woman who chose to remarry had to compensate her former spouse with twenty Gold Sols.

After the marriage decree was enacted, violent and bloody conflicts in the Randell Fief significantly decreased. The bachelors who had been preparing to pack up and leave stayed to continue their work, and the wages they saved naturally remained in the Randell Fief.

The law is a fence. If the fence isn’t built well, your own sheep will wander into your neighbor’s yard.

Victor had not expected that while he was busy mending his fences, His Holiness the Pontiff would choose to stir up a commotion among the flock.

He pondered for a long time before saying slowly, “My dear, the Lord of Radiance is a real, existing god. How could I possibly weaken the refugees’ faith in Him? On the contrary, I encourage the people to attend services, I’ve set up public carriages, donated large quantities of supplies to the Church, planted Spiked Kidney Beans, and paid to organize a medical team to assist the priests with church affairs… Does His Holiness the Pontiff have some misunderstanding about me?”

“Do you believe the words you’re saying yourself?”

Sylvia shot Victor a sideways glance and said coolly, “You want to manage every little thing for the refugees, and you don’t expect the Pontiff to get angry?”

Victor said, displeased, “Let the secular be secular, and the divine be divine.”

“Indeed. That’s why the Church has conceded. They are now concentrating on doing their church affairs well. For example, reminding the faithful to stay away from danger and not to become sacrifices for Viscount Randell’s pioneering of the Southern Continent… All they have to do is say one sentence, that the mercenary army is not blessed by Holy Light, and what can you do?”

You manage the refugees, so I won’t. Tit for tat, nothing wrong with that… Victor was silent, slumping into his chair in dejection.

Sylvia said softly, “My dear, the secular and the divine are not so clearly divided. The refugees have always been the buffer between lords and the Church. Lords are accustomed to using refugees to manage refugees, but you and Nicole have your subordinates directly managing every single refugee worker, arranging their food, clothing, housing, and transport. Now, the buffer is gone. Of course the secular and the divine will collide. You take a step forward, the Church must take a step back. How could Clement possibly not react?”

“You don’t really think that divine power is merely about faith, do you?” Sylvia asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Victor had a sudden epiphany and shook his head with a bitter smile. “The Church has the strongest army and the right to tax… I was too naive.”

“Even if it were just about faith, you’re still infringing upon the Church’s domain!” Sylvia said. “I noticed a piece of testimony. Clement asked Severin if he wanted to attend morning and evening prayer, and Severin refused. A refugee’s child, refusing to participate in Holy Light prayers? What must Clement be thinking? He needs to determine now whether your policy of converting refugees is temporary or if it will continue indefinitely. My dear, vassals may have faith, but few are devout believers.”

“But Bishop Pello knows our situation well. He didn’t object when we converted refugees and recruited a mercenary army. Pello is the Pontiff’s disciple, so why is the Pontiff making things difficult for Victor now?” Nicole said, unconvinced.

“Nicole, the fact that you can ask this question shows you’re becoming more and more like a lord.” Sylvia nodded in satisfaction, then turned to Victor and asked, “What do you think?”

A thought stirred in Victor’s mind, and he murmured, “Bishop Pello is Clement’s direct confidant. The Pontiff couldn’t possibly be unaware of what’s happening in the Randell Fief. Pello’s support for me was probably at the Pontiff’s instruction. However, a Bishop is a Bishop, and a Pontiff is a Pontiff. Their statuses are different, their perspectives are different… I understand. The Pontiff wants to support me, but he also needs to give the Church an explanation. So, he’s waiting for me to give him an explanation.”

“Hehe, my dear, Viscount Randell is not yet important enough to warrant the Pontiff’s attention.” Sylvia covered her mouth with a delicate laugh. “Clement is waiting for me. As long as I attend Mass before the Pontiff once, your problem will no longer be a problem.”

“The Pontiff wants to form an alliance with you?!” Victor asked in shock. “Why?!”

“It’s still because of you.”

Sylvia explained, “The Church is internally divided into three major factions: the Radiant Knights, the Curia, and the Monastery Council of Elders. Clement is the most outstanding leader of the bishops in the last three hundred years. He has clearly proposed a platform of ending internal wars and expanding outward. The Radiant Knights and the Council of Elders thought this was empty talk, but the New Agro-husbandry in the Centaur Hills has given everyone hope. Clement used barbarian diplomacy to resolve the conflicts between the three southern kingdoms and the Sasan Empire, changing the existing diplomatic landscape and making outward expansion a consensus among the kingdoms. However, Clement is about to face internal strife.”

“Clement is the one calling for outward expansion. Once the expansion succeeds, his power and prestige will reach their peak. Even if the Curia can’t regain control of the Temple Army, they can take the opportunity to expand the Templars to rival the Radiant Knights. Therefore, the Radiant Knights must first bring down Clement. What’s worse is that the Curia itself is not a monolithic bloc; the Radiant Knights and the Council of Elders both have their own agents within the Curia. Clement must first suppress the dissenting voices within the Curia…”

Sylvia pouted her red lips and said proudly, “Hmph! Since the beginning of the Radiant Calendar, no Spirit Knight has ever attended Mass. If Clement can hold a Blessing of Holy Light ceremony for me, who in the Curia would dare to defy him?”

Victor’s eyes lit up. He took Sylvia’s slender hand and said with a grin, “So I have to convince you first?”

“It’s not that simple.” Sylvia rolled her eyes at her lover, pulled her hand back, and said at her leisure, “We have a disagreement.”

“When the Ant-man plague broke out, the Auguste family conscripted eight thousand militia from among the refugees and promoted their families to subjects. But these refugees had been vassals’ tenants and serfs for several generations. The Augustes could have easily just considered them subjects.”

Sylvia took a sip of coffee and said softly, “You and Nicole are both new lords, without enough vassals under you. The Church can’t criticize you for promoting aides and soldiers from among the refugees. The question is, is this a temporary measure, or do you plan to continue it indefinitely?” She put down her coffee cup and said with a wry smile, “Looking at you now, you’re definitely going to continue it. So, what is your purpose in persisting?”

“I need a continuous supply of soldiers,” Victor admitted freely. “Maintaining a mercenary legion is indeed expensive, but I have my tax policies. When the population of the Randell Fief breaks three hundred thousand, I can form five legions. When it breaks one million, I’ll have twelve legions. For every soldier that dies, I’ll replace him. If they die in battle, they get land. Even if it’s an investiture of ten mu of terraced fields, they will be considered vassals, and the Church has no right to sanction me.”

“You’re dead set on using your soldiers as consumables?” Sylvia’s pupils contracted as she raised an eyebrow and asked.

Victor was silent for a moment, then nodded and said with a smile, “A kind heart can’t lead an army. My dear, are you worried?”

“Worried? No! My vassal-soldiers will be overjoyed.” Sylvia let out a light laugh, her eyes burning bright. “But you must prove that your mercenary legion isn’t just all for show, that it can’t be broken at the first touch, and that it can actually conquer new lands. Only then will I be willing to follow the example of House of Randell and recruit mercenary legions from the refugees.”

Nicole frowned and asked, “My Lady… then, what if the Pontiff forbids refugees from joining the Randell Fief’s mercenary legion in the meantime?”

Sylvia smiled. “Only if Victor can prove his method is useful for expansion will the York family follow suit, and only then will Clement have the capital to form an alliance with me. Before that…”

“Victor, you can do whatever you want. Clement will absolutely not make things difficult for House of Randell. Perhaps… he might even offer you some help.”

Chapter 376: Plans and Goals

“The permanent population of Laketon has exceeded twenty-seven thousand. This church has long been unable to meet the needs of the faithful, especially on the Day of Worship, when believers from all the villages ride the public carriages to Laketon to receive the Blessing of Holy Light. Besides morning and evening prayers, we’ve had to hold two additional Dispersals of Holy Light. But for some of the believers from the outer villages, one baptism of Holy Light isn’t enough. They linger in the square, hoping to join the next dispersal, which often leads to arguments with other believers, blocking traffic and causing chaos.”

“With Viscount Randell’s support, I built two more churches, one in the East District and one in the West. The three churches now hold two sessions of Holy Light prayer each day, with over seven thousand people attending each time…”

In the prayer hall of the Laketon church, Father Davy stole a glance at the Pope, who was reading an archival scroll, and said with careful consideration, “For now, this is enough to satisfy the believers of the Randell Fief.”

Clement seemed not to have heard, continuing to read the scroll in his hands. Tournans, dressed in Bishop’s robes, sat to the Pope’s left, silent, his expression solemn and profound. He kept Clement’s teachings firmly in mind: on formal occasions, it is better to listen more, speak less, and avoid taking a stance rashly. Only then would he seem like a qualified Archbishop.

What does he mean by ‘for now’? Bishop Pello sighed inwardly, forced to pick up where his confidant had left off. Tournans shot him a cool glance, as if to say, I knew you wouldn’t be able to hold back.

Father Davy said with the utmost respect, “The population of the Randell Fief is growing rapidly. According to the House of Randell’s plans, the permanent population of Laketon will exceed sixty thousand within five years, and one hundred thousand within ten. Therefore, I believe it is necessary to build a cathedral in Laketon.” He paused, then added, “Viscount Randell is very enthusiastic about the construction of a cathedral in Laketon. He is willing to bear the full cost of the above-ground construction and has also invited Lord Anthony to help design it… His Excellency Anthony is the most sought-after architectural designer of our time. His masterpiece, Silver Moon Manor, uses a great number of spires to express strong emotions of mystery, sorrow, and sublimity, making his style exceptionally suited for church architecture.”

According to the agreement between the Lord of Radiance and the first Pope, He would convert the power of faith from any gathering of seven thousand or more people into holy power, injecting it into the Pool of Holy Power for mid- to high-rank clergy to use. If the number of petitioners fell below this threshold, this Law could not be activated.

However, in the beginning, this was not the Church’s primary method of collecting holy power.

During the era of the City-states, humanity occupied the fertile northern territories. Each city had a population of at least several hundred thousand, with some reaching over a million. It was impossible for priests to preside over prayer ceremonies for so many people, even if they worked themselves to the point of coughing up blood. The Church built magnificent cathedrals in the city centers, and each cathedral was itself a large-scale prayer formation. With the cathedral as its center, the faith of every believer within a three-hundred-square-kilometer radius would be converted into holy power by the formation, no matter what they were doing, as long as they prayed with a sincere heart.

Prayer ceremonies personally presided over by priests were mainly for the villages and towns attached to the City-states.

The large-scale prayer formations were built underground and required vast amounts of Mithril and White Crystals, making them extremely expensive. Fortunately, every City-state had a Wizard’s tower. The clergy dismantled these towers, and the materials they obtained were sufficient to build a cathedral for the City-state. In that age, every City-state had a large-scale prayer formation.

Today, the fertile plains of the north have become an arena for beastmen and monsters, and the ancient City-states all lie in ruin. The Church is left with only one large-scale prayer formation—the Cathedral of Radiant Brilliance in the Royal Capital of Ayr.

Given the current population density, there was no need for the Church to build any more large-scale prayer formations. The clergy now mainly constructed medium-scale prayer formations, which automatically collected the power of faith within a two-hundred-square-kilometer range, with the occasional small-scale formation affecting an area of one hundred square kilometers.

Even a medium-scale formation was astonishingly expensive. If the rare materials required were converted into currency, it would cost at least six hundred thousand Gold Sol. And that was just the cost of building the formation, not including the construction cost of the church building itself.

With the Church’s current manpower and resources, establishing a cathedral had to be considered with extreme caution. According to the rules, the resident priest was only qualified to apply for the construction of a cathedral once a city’s permanent population reached at least one hundred thousand.

Once a cathedral was established, it signified a mature diocese.

A cathedral needed to be staffed with at least sixty junior Sacred Warriors, five junior priests, two battle priests, and four mid-rank Sacred Warriors. Of course, the staff roster of a cathedral often had vacancies, but as long as people came to serve, the resident priest would no longer be trapped in the town, busy day in and day out presiding over prayers, brewing potions, and treating the injured. They would be freed from trivial matters, have enough time to study, strive to improve their own scholarship, travel to the lower-ranking villages and towns, fortify the faith of the populace, and collect scattered holy power. All of these were directly related to a priest’s promotion.

For a lord, having a cathedral within his domain meant the Church would strive to maintain his family’s legitimate status. As long as there were no issues with the family Bloodline, even the Kingdom’s Senate could not act rashly against him, making his political foundation incredibly secure. At the same time, the cathedral’s clergy would do their utmost to cooperate with the lord’s army to repel or clear out monsters for the sake of the diocese’s safety. The lord could also use the Church’s network to keep abreast of the dynamics of other families, as well as new technologies.

In short, a cathedral meant a complete upgrade for the fief.

The Ant-men were the greatest threat to the Randell Fief. When the next Ant-man tide advanced upon the Centaur Hills, the presence of the Church’s clergy on the walls of the southern fortress would not only boost the morale of the Randell mercenary army and militia but also stabilize the rear. Of course Viscount Randell hoped to have a cathedral in Laketon.

According to the principle of equivalence, the head priest of a cathedral had to be a level four priest. Miller, being a God-favored, had no room for promotion. The level three priest, Davy, could replace Miller, advance to level four, and become the head priest of the Randell Fief’s cathedral. Given Viscount Randell’s potential, as long as Davy secured the position of head priest, his own station would rise with the viscount’s fortunes, and promotion to high-rank priest would be easier in the future.

Bishop Pello was about to relinquish his diocese in the duchy of Nimes to focus on managing the Centaur Hills. He had begun promoting his confidants and sidelining dissenters. On the other hand, the more cathedrals there were in the Centaur Hills, the more missionary priests, battle priests, and Sacred Warriors Pello would command. Since the Church’s resources were limited and applications for prayer formations were queued, if he didn’t fight for one now, there was no telling how long he would have to wait.

Technically, Pello was of the Pope’s faction, but Clement’s vision extended far beyond the Centaur Hills. To scramble for diocesan resources so eagerly now would inevitably alert the Radiant Knights and the Ivory Sanctum, leading to a premature split in the Curia. Clement had more far-reaching considerations; he intended to lead a reformation of the Church, compared to which the gain or loss of a single location at a single moment was nothing.

Putting down the scroll, Clement asked gently, “Davy, was the soap your invention?”

“Thanks be to the guidance of our Lord.” Davy made the sign of the triangle, symbolizing the Radiant Holy Mountain, from his forehead to his chest, and said with some reserve, “The Boreans use the pancreas and scent glands of the Water Lizard, along with white kidney bean powder and milk, to make a bath paste. I borrowed their method, washed the blood from pig pancreas, ground it into a paste, then added molten pork fat, Spiked Kidney Bean ash, and a small amount of raw sugar. After mixing it evenly and pressing it into blocks, it becomes pancreas soap after natural drying. But Viscount Randell insists on calling it soap or scented soap…”

Davy said with a hint of pride, “Scented soap is just soap with expensive fragrances added. Both soap and scented soap are incredibly popular in Wildwillow City’s market. Viscount Randell has decided to expand the cultivation of Spiked Kidney Beans to one hundred and eighty thousand mu, and the lords of the Centaur Hills are also preparing to open up terraced fields to plant them.”

“Obtaining a mutant strain of the Spiked Kidney Bean requires a certain scale of cultivation and time for breeding. Relying solely on the Wellington family’s seven hundred thousand-plus mu of Spiked Kidney Bean fields, it would be very difficult to see the day it becomes a food crop. Now, the large-scale introduction of Spiked Kidney Beans in the Centaur Hills has solved a major problem, even if they’ll mostly be used to feed pigs… At the very least, the lords will no longer question us about why the Theocracy of Ayr refuses to plant Spiked Kidney Beans,” Clement said with a smiling nod. He turned to Pello and asked, “Now that Spiked Kidney Beans can both raise pigs and make soap, what are the Wellington family’s plans?”

Pello shook his head and said, “Regardless, raising pigs is not as profitable as raising cattle and sheep. Moreover, the central and south-central parts of Gambis are the Brinol Plains, and all the reclaimable land has already been cultivated. If the Auguste family doesn’t plant Spiked Kidney Beans, Aerie Fortress will still direct its surplus population to the south-central region. Duke Wellington wouldn’t be able to use Spiked Kidney Beans for pig farming even if he wanted to… The Wellington family’s established strategy remains unchanged: direct surplus population to the Centaur Hills, reduce their Spiked Kidney Bean fields to three hundred thousand mu, and use the extra four hundred thousand-plus mu of farmland to retain their family knights.”

“After all, they need to prepare for the pioneering of the Southern Continent. The investiture of knights, the training of vassal soldiers, and the storage of grain and leather—all of these require farmland. Aerie Fortress supports Duke Wellington’s war preparations, so Bishop Saen has no reason to stop them.”

Bishop Pello paused for a moment before continuing, “I will be taking over the Spiked Kidney Bean cultivation project. The York family is accelerating the creation of terraced fields, and it’s estimated that the scale of cultivation will reach one million mu. In addition, Bishop Dawson has sent someone to contact me; he seems prepared to promote terraced fields, Spiked Kidney Beans, and the pig-raising industry in the Dodor Kingdom’s portion of the Centaur Hills.”

“The ‘Wild Boar family’ raising pigs… I suppose the York family has found its calling. It’s well-deserved,” Clement said, his mood light, unable to resist a jest. The others couldn’t help but smile. The Pope then turned to Davy with praise, “Without soap, the York family wouldn’t have agreed to plant Spiked Kidney Beans so readily. You have done very well.”

Davy was secretly overjoyed, but then he heard the Pope say, “For the town of a Pioneer Lord to exceed a population of one hundred thousand within ten years? If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I would have thought you were lying. Now, I have no doubt. But rules are rules. If Laketon wants to build a cathedral, you may only submit an application to the Holy See once the population reaches one hundred thousand.”

Father Davy was taken aback. That can’t be right, he thought. The Holy See said it would reward Viscount Randell. How could His Holiness reject my proposal?

He looked at Bishop Pello but received no hint. He mumbled, unwilling to give up, “The cathedral is the landmark of a town. If the Laketon cathedral can’t be confirmed soon, I’m afraid it will affect Viscount Randell’s urban planning…”

“Planning?” Clement’s interest was piqued by this new term. “What does that mean?”

Davy’s spirits lifted, and he explained in a clear voice, “A typical Pioneer Lord waits for the right moment and then grants a piece of territory to a vassal knight, letting him form his own guard detachment, recruit farmers, build a fortified village and manors, clear farmland, and raise livestock. Viscount Randell is different from ordinary Pioneer Lords. He has comprehensive, long-term considerations for the development of his fief, specifically for the towns, villages, workshops, farmlands, pastures, forests, population, and army—what scale must be reached by what time. The Randell Fief has a five-year plan, a ten-year plan, and a twenty-year plan…”

“Wait,” Clement interrupted the effusive Davy. “What does the Randell Fief’s twenty-year plan look like?”

“Your Holiness, which aspect are you asking about?”

Clement thought for a moment and said, “The overall plan for the Randell Fief.”

“Yes.” Davy bowed slightly, then looked up. “In twenty years, four thousand square kilometers of the Randell Fief will be developed into pastures, farmland, terraced fields, and regenerated forests. The remaining five thousand square kilometers of territory will be temporarily left in its natural state. The fief will contain one city, seven towns, and fourteen villages, under which will be forty-two manors. The total population of the fief will be no less than four hundred thousand and no more than five hundred thousand. It will form six mercenary legions, totaling over twenty-four thousand men.”

Clement’s eyes flashed. After a moment of silence, he smiled. “What ambition… How does Viscount Randell intend to achieve this plan?”

“I don’t see how he can,” Tournans couldn’t help but interject. “Can he control how many children his subjects have?”

A lord who even wants to manage when his subjects use the latrine would probably really try to manage how many children they have, Clement thought to himself.

As expected, Bishop Pello cleared his throat and took over. “Victor and I have discussed the matter of population control… I basically agree with his views and am currently writing a report on it. Of course, at present, he is encouraging childbirth. In the Randell Fief, a woman from a hired worker’s family receives a ewe for her third child and a monetary reward for her fourth. But if she has a fifth child, her husband will be punished. Victor believes women should not be reduced to birthing tools for men, as it increases the risk of difficult childbirths. With our limited number of priests, the Church can hardly guarantee the safety of pregnant women and infants. In fact, Victor places great importance on medicine and hygiene. He has made it compulsory for hired worker families to use soap, even distributing it as part of their wages… I must admit, this has indeed lessened the workload of the priests. Therefore, I have instructed the priests to placate the faithful and have them accept soap as partial payment for their wages.”

“We teach the faithful to stay away from spoiled food and polluted water and to pay attention to hygiene and cleanliness, but the results have always been minimal. The fact that the people of the Randell Fief can maintain good hygiene is a model of cooperation between a lord and his priests.” Clement nodded, then instructed, “Submit Viscount Randell’s views on population control to me as soon as possible.”

“As you wish.”

“Davy, continue answering the previous question.”

“Yes.” Davy collected his thoughts and replied, “Viscount Randell first sets a long-term goal, then breaks it down into medium-term and short-term goals. The medium-term goals are given to My Lady Lilia, while the short-term goals are assigned to subordinates. For example, Village Head George must clear a certain amount of terraced fields and plant a certain amount of Spiked Kidney Beans within a year. If he encounters difficulties, he can seek help from My Lady Lilia. If he fails to meet the target on schedule, George will be held accountable.”

Clement pondered for a moment before offering his assessment, “Terrifyingly meticulous, and breathtaking.” He continued, “And what about this cathedral and urban planning?”

Davy quickly answered, “The cathedral is the center of the city. Viscount Randell plans to design Laketon around the cathedral, including the sewers, city roads, residential areas, commercial districts, artisan districts, city squares, urban farms, gardens, and aqueducts. Moreover, the architectural style must also match that of the cathedral.”

“The viscount’s urban plan is very appealing, and very detailed,” Clement said with a smile. “He must have already drawn up the blueprints, right?”

“Yes,” Davy said, crestfallen. With blueprints, there was no absolute need to build the cathedral first.

“Davy, what is your main impression from your time in the Randell Fief?” Clement asked lightly.

Davy adjusted his mindset and said after a moment of thought, “Your Holiness, I believe the core idea behind Viscount Randell’s pioneering of this fief is to transform useless resources into useful ones, and to turn unfavorable factors into beneficial ones.”

“Inedible acorns, ground-potato leaves, and worms are used to feed pigs and are converted into pork; aged Spiked Kidney Beans are dried, ground into powder, and made into soap; the weeds and shrubs on the hills have little value, so they are cleared to make terraced fields for planting fruit trees, Oilwood, Spiked Kidney Beans, rye, and Wolftail Grass; the stream reservoirs are used to raise fish; wheat straw is used for papermaking.”

“The same applies to people. The Randell Fief is about to implement a three-field system. With a seed-to-yield ratio of 1:7, a subject’s family can rent thirty mu of wheat fields, thirty mu of ground-potatoes, and thirty mu of fallow land, and keep thirty percent of the harvest after the tithe. Ground-potatoes don’t require careful tending, so two strong laborers can easily manage thirty mu of wheat and thirty mu of ground-potatoes. Based on an average yield of four hundred and twenty pounds per mu, a subject’s family can harvest three thousand four hundred pounds of new wheat and three thousand five hundred pounds of ground-potatoes per year. Combined with the policy of exchanging new grain for old, two farmers can support a family of eight.”

“This way, the other family members can choose to work or participate in militia training, gradually becoming outstanding craftsmen, artisans, and mercenary soldiers.”

“Viscount Randell is also preparing to rent terraced fields to hired worker families, so their children will also have the opportunity to learn a trade and receive militia training. The specific methods are still under discussion, but implementation is set for two years from now. However, the children of hired worker families are temporarily not eligible for school admission…”

Clement’s eyes lit up. “Tell me about this school admission business,” he commanded.

Davy nodded and said, “A school has been opened in Laketon, primarily for the children of the subjects’ families. It enrolls eighty students each year, specializing in teaching writing and arithmetic, with all expenses borne by the lord. After three years of study, those with outstanding results can serve as Aides. An admission slot requires a recommendation.”

“A school? Another new thing… one idea after another, weaving a great net that catches all the refugees… a truly rare noble,” Clement said, as if to himself.

Bishop Pello shook his head and smiled. “Victor has no other choice. Sylvia is worried that the children of other nobles will influence the decisions of the House of Randell, so she won’t allow him to recruit knights and scholars.”

Clement gave a noncommittal nod. Davy gritted his teeth and said, “Your Holiness, I believe that Father Miller is no longer competent enough to serve as the head priest of the Randell Fief.”

“In an ordinary fief, vassals use refugees to secretly gather resources from common lands and then have freemen merchants sell them to evade the tithe. Most lords just symbolically collect some tribute from the common lands and turn a blind eye to their vassals’ actions. The head priest receives almost no resources from common lands. The situation in the Randell Fief is completely different. All the resources from the village common lands have been converted into useful goods by His Excellency Victor. Sisal becomes oilcloth, trees become carriages… and then there’s the pig-raising industry…” Davy took a breath and continued, “The Randell Fief currently has over seventy thousand domestic pigs. They are ready for slaughter in ten months and are divided into five batches, with one batch slaughtered every three months. This means that the tithe for the Randell Fief cannot be collected just once a year. When you also consider the fief’s transaction taxes, the collection of the tithe becomes extremely complex.”

“In this year’s Season of Wind, we will begin collecting the tithe from the Centaur Hills. With Father Miller’s abilities, he simply cannot handle the special circumstances of the Randell Fief.”

“The tithe…”

Clement shook his head and sighed. “Vassals are also believers of the Supreme Lord, yet they gnash their teeth at us when it’s time to pay the tithe, only to beg us for help when they are sick or injured… I hear that Lord Narsen’s son was delivered by Miller?”

Bishop Pello nodded. “Nearly all the newborn children of the House of Randell’s vassals are baptized and cared for by Miller.”

Clement turned to Davy and asked, “If collecting the tithe once a year is so hard, how many times do you plan to collect it in the Randell Fief? Or are you bold enough to yell at Viscount Randell to his face, like Miller does?”

“This…” Father Davy was suddenly at a loss for words.

“The tithe must be collected, and the more, the better!” Clement smiled. “Miller can’t do it alone, but neither can you. Miller needs an assistant, and you need a shield. Understand?”

Davy took a deep breath and said with sincere conviction, “Your Holiness, I understand.”

Just then, a Sacred Warrior entered the great hall, bowed to the Pope, and presented a parchment scroll. “Your Holiness,” he said respectfully, “the result of that case is out. Viscount Randell himself delivered the verdict!”

Clement took the scroll and ordered, “All of you may leave.”

Davy and the Sacred Warrior bowed and withdrew. Once they had left the prayer hall, Tournans asked impatiently, “What was the verdict?”

Clement smiled faintly and said, “The verdict itself is not important. What’s important is that Sylvia’s thoughts are the same as mine. That is the best possible outcome.”

Chapter 377: An Explanation (Part 1)

With no outsiders in the great hall, Tournans no longer had to put on an act. He asked with curiosity, “Your Holiness, what did you and Sylvia figure out?”

“This issue involves many aspects, Tournans. You must be patient.”

Clement turned to Pello and said, “Setting up a medium prayer formation requires a great deal of holy power crystals and at least eighty ounces of Mithril. These extraordinary materials can’t be bought with money alone. Add to that the maintenance costs, and a cathedral uses at least sixty holy power crystals a year.”

“The three cathedrals in Gambis are all located in refugee settlements: the Auguste family’s northern capital city of Ogib, the Royal Capital of Brinol, and the Wellington family’s Vistock. Places like the Joshua family’s Deepwater City, the Nim family’s Val City, Thorim’s Copper City, the York family’s Goldwater City, and now Wildwillow City, only have cathedrals in name. In reality, they just have small prayer formations.”

“The Randell Fief is developing at an astonishing rate, but its location is remote. It’s bordered by the Great Marsh to the west, the Goldwater River to the south, the Duchy of York to the north, and Wildwillow City and the Chapman territory to the east. These geographical factors mean Laketon can never become a transportation hub or a distribution center for supplies. It can’t even be considered a rear area. This place is the front line against the Ant-man tide, an outpost for the York family’s expansion into the Southern Continent. The future Lake City will be a military stronghold.”

“My student, on what grounds do you expect the Curia to establish a medium prayer formation in Laketon?”

“Yeah! On what grounds?” Tournans rubbed his shiny bald head and yelled, “The Radiant Knights recently submitted a military plan to retake a white crystal mine in the Northern Wildlands. They plan to transfer six thousand Sacred Warriors from the Twilight Forest and are also demanding support from the Inquisition and the Templars. Where am I supposed to find Templars to help you defend the cathedral in Laketon?”

Bishop Pello frowned. “Archbishop Lazarus recently discovered a rich white crystal mine on the outskirts of the Gloomy Forest. There’s no need for the Radiant Knights to risk it for a mine in the Northern Wildlands.”

“Exactly. Their military plan doesn’t even have a date for the operation.” Tournans slapped his thigh, crowing triumphantly, “His Holiness and I discussed this. We believe the Radiant Knights are pulling a feint. They won’t let us touch the Temple Army, which is only allowed to expand north, not south. As soon as news got out that the Radiant Knights were planning to transfer Sacred Warriors from the Twilight Forest, the Kingdom of Sus started scrambling in a panic. The Curia and the Ivory Sanctum have come under immense pressure, so the Knights’ risky military plan has been shelved for now. We’re currently arguing with the Radiant Knights over whether newly promoted Sacred Warriors should join the Temple Army or the Templars!”

“The moment it starts, the fighting begins?” Pello murmured. He could imagine the treacherous situation Clement faced in the Curia.

“This was to be expected.” The Pope’s expression was serene. “One step forward is for a step back, and a step back is for a step forward. Lazarus will soon be promoted to a sixth-rank priest and return to the Curia. I plan to support Saen to take over as Archbishop of Gambis. At the same time, Oleg will be transferred back to Eyer to preside over St. Benedict Monastery, and the Archbishop of Borea will be Kru. In exchange, Tamor will support Max to become the Archbishop of the Worton Plains.”

“Tutor, absolutely not!” Pello shot to his feet with an alarmed cry.

Secular lords only thought the Church was composed of three major powers: the Radiant Knights, the Curia, and the Monastery Council of Elders. The reality was far more complex.

The Curia was, in name, the highest authority in the Church. When the Radiant Knights were at the zenith of their power, the six great Paladin families directly controlled the Temple Army and St. Ograt Monastery. They kicked all disobedient high-rank priests out to St. Benedict Monastery and the Ivory Sanctum, putting them in charge of training initial-rank priests and Sacred Warriors. The Curia was reduced to a logistics and missionary arm for the Paladins.

Over three hundred years ago, the secular lords allied with the two other monasteries to launch the Holy City Uprising, forcing the Radiant Knights to sign the New Covenant of Light. The most important clause was that the three great monasteries would jointly control the Curia, and the Curia would decide the promotion sequence for priests and Sacred Warriors.

Because St. Ograt Monastery was the direct line of the Radiant Knights, it was difficult for priests from this faction to lead the Curia again. The priests from St. Benedict Monastery and the Ivory Sanctum, however, competed with each other for the papal throne.

Currently, Frieders, the representative of St. Ograt Monastery, oversaw church affairs in the Sasan Empire and the Worton Plains. Clement, the representative of St. Benedict Monastery, held the position of Pope, and the Benedictine faction of priests controlled church affairs in the kingdoms of Gambis, Naville, and Borea. The representative of the Ivory Sanctum was Tamor; his faction of archbishops controlled church affairs in the kingdoms of Dodor and Sus.

Bishop Saen of Gambis and Bishop Kru of Borea both had backgrounds with the Ivory Sanctum. For Clement to support their takeover of the Cardinal positions was to hand over the two great dioceses of Gambis and Borea to Tamor. In exchange, he would only get the Worton Plains diocese.

Frieders’s control over the Worton Plains was absolute; would he really be willing to let Clement’s disciple, Max, take over as archbishop of the plains?

Of course, he would!

In the context of the great expansion, Clement giving up the dioceses of Borea and Gambis meant the Benedictine priests were abandoning the southern expansion to focus their efforts on helping the Kingdom of Naville conquer the Northern Wildlands. The Radiant Knights needed Naville’s support for their counter-offensive into the Northern Wildlands. But Naville was only strong enough to be an assistant to the Sasan Empire, picking up some scraps. They were no real threat.

Thus, the Benedictine priests became collaborators with the Radiant Knights. Of course, Frieders would be willing to give the archbishopric of the Great Plains to the Pope’s disciple.

In contrast, Tamor of the Ivory Sanctum could connect the dioceses of Sus and Borea, as well as Dodor and Gambis. The Ivory Sanctum priests would become the undisputed leaders of the southern expansion.

Clement’s actions did indeed prevent internal strife within the Curia, but what was the use of the Great Plains?

Right now, whoever led the expansion was the one with the right to vie for the Church’s resources, arrange promotions for their own people, expand their faction’s power, and gain influence in the Curia. In Pello’s view, Clement should have traded the Borea archdiocese for the Ivory Sanctum’s Dodor archdiocese, connecting the three dioceses of Dodor, Naville, and Gambis to pursue both the northern and southern expansion strategies simultaneously.

To put it bluntly, the Pool of Holy Power was only so big. How many sixth-rank clergy could it cultivate?

Pello dared not dream of the papal throne, but a sixth-rank clergyman possessed the divine art of Life Extension. What high-rank priest didn’t want to live a few more years?

With this retreat, Clement had also given up the Benedictine faction’s position in the Curia. How could they advance after this?

The thought of that fellow Saen riding on his head, bossing him around about church affairs in the Centaur Hills, made Pello’s heart sink.

“The terms of the exchange include your promotion to a sixth-rank priest,” Clement said lightly, as if seeing through his disciple’s thoughts.

Tournans winked at Pello. “Pello, my boy, you’re going to be a Legendary Priest. Happy?” he teased.

Bishop Pello was over fifty and looked even older than the Pope. At this moment, his heart was filled with surprise and joy. He didn’t mind being called a “boy” by Tournans at all. He struggled to control his expression and said with a look of shame, “Thank you, Tutor. Pello will certainly live up to your expectations.”

“What do I expect of you?” Clement asked with a smile.

Pello bowed slightly. “Your instructions, Tutor.”

Clement gestured for his disciple to sit. “First, tell me why you want to establish a cathedral in the Randell Fief.”

Pello pondered for a moment before speaking. “Mainly because I have too few clergy at my disposal, and the Randall family is expanding too quickly. The church affairs in the Randell Fief simply can’t keep up with the fief’s development. For the sake of balance, I believe it’s necessary to build a cathedral in Laketon.”

“First, Baroness Fynikos’s fief and Viscount Randell’s viscounty are essentially one territory. His Excellency Victor effectively controls a population of over eighty-five thousand, the vast majority of whom are refugee workers. And we only have two third-rank priests, two second-rank priests, six first-rank priests, twenty Sacred Warriors, and one hundred twenty-seven church attendants here. With so few people, they can’t even handle medical aid for the followers, let alone preside over prayer ceremonies, distribute relief supplies, calculate the tithe, and monitor Wizards…”

“Huh, but I saw that the church affairs in the Randell Fief are well-organized, with no chaos.”

Tournans said strangely, “Didn’t Viscount Randell organize a medical team of more than seven hundred people to help the priests treat the people and distribute relief supplies? What were the members of the medical team called again? Right, nurses! The nurses get room and board, and a monthly wage of fifty Copper Sols. Viscount Randell not only pays the medical team a salary of one thousand one hundred Silver Sols every month, he also donates large quantities of supplies to the Church. No other lord would support the priests’ church affairs out of their own pocket like Viscount Randell does.”

“That is precisely what worries me!”

Bishop Pello sighed and said gravely, “Victor does not let Miller distribute the Spiked Kidney Beans, and he designates the recipients of his donated supplies. He is taking advantage of the Church’s insufficient strength in the Randell Fief to openly interfere in church affairs!”

Tournans’s mouth hung open, his face a mask of shock and confusion. But Clement smiled. “In the last two years, the birth rate of newborns in the Randell Fief has ranked first among all viscounty dioceses, even higher than the vast majority of earldom dioceses. The death rate among believers is lower than in any other diocese, and not a single person has frozen or starved to death. All of this is counted as your merit, otherwise the Curia would not have so easily approved your promotion to sixth-rank priest.” The Pope’s tone gradually grew serious. “Are we to forbid Viscount Randell from doing the things we have failed to do well?”

Pello’s heart lurched. He hastily stood up and said sincerely, “Tutor, I was wrong!” He gave a wry smile and explained, “I was also doing this to protect Viscount Randell.”

Tournans’s expression turned to curiosity. “Protect Viscount Randell? Is he in danger?” he asked.

“Yes.” Pello nodded. “Victor is of noble Bloodline, young and full of vigor. He has no Knight Vassals within his family to check him, and he has Sylvia’s indulgence behind him. In the Randell Fief, his word is law, and his power is immense. With such a large population in the fief and the Church’s power being relatively weak, I worry he will secretly keep Wizards.”

Tournans stroked his smooth chin and nodded. “That makes sense.”

It was nothing new for great lords to secretly keep Wizards, but refugees liked to report on each other in exchange for the Church’s generous rewards. It was difficult and risky for a lord to take in refugee Wizards. However, Wizards born into vassal families were often sheltered by the great lords, and the Church could almost never get any evidence.

Fortunately, the refugee population far outnumbered the vassals, and the proportion of awakened Wizards among them was also higher. However, the Randall family’s control over its refugee workers was extremely tight; they directly managed the refugees’ food, clothing, and housing. If a Wizard awakened in the Randell Fief, Victor would surely discover them before the Church. The possibility of him keeping Wizards was high—at the very least, he had the guts for it.

“There is another problem.”

Bishop Pello’s expression was grave as he continued, “Victor is recruiting a mercenary army. He has established a military merit reward system. One of the articles states that those who die in battle will be compensated with ten mu of farmland, while those who desert will be convicted of defrauding a noble and sentenced to public execution! Ordinary vassal soldiers are enfeoffed first and then serve in the military. The Randall family’s mercenary army is the complete opposite… Victor is using refugees as sacrifices!”

A lord keeping Wizards was not a major crime. Handing over the wizard and paying a hefty fine would settle the matter. At most, the Church would exile or imprison a scapegoat noble. But the consequences of a lord sacrificing refugees were extremely severe, enough for the Church to send an Emperor to the execution block.

Tournans rubbed his big, bald head and mumbled, “I don’t think that’s so bad.”

The Pope said nothing. His expression was calm, his gaze deep and distant, making it difficult to guess his thoughts.

Pello paused, then continued, “I don’t want Victor to go down the wrong path, but I also know it will be difficult to persuade him. If a cathedral is built in Laketon, the next step would be to establish a monastery, followed by the Inquisition dispatching an inspection team, creating a complete missionary system in the Randell Fief. I think Victor would calm down then. As he himself said, power needs to be checked.”

Clement’s index finger tapped lightly on the table. He sighed, “Pello, I now believe you do indeed want to protect Viscount Randell. But there is one more important matter you haven’t mentioned.”

Chapter 378: Enlightening (Part 2)

The prayer hall instantly fell silent.

Pello was silent for a long time before finally speaking: “I’ve discovered that the refugees in the Randell Fief are not as devout in their faith to the Supreme Lord as they used to be, especially the children of the refugees…”

Faith was the source of the Pool of Holy Power, the very foundation of the Church—it could not be compromised! Yet, the Pope and the First Sacred Warrior appeared unconcerned, as if Pello’s worries were not worth mentioning.

Clement said slowly, “Tournans and I have also noticed this change. Severin, from Marcy’s family, nearly died after he abandoned his prayers to the Holy Light for the sake of making paper. And what happened after that?”

“Miller used divine arts to save three people. The faithful of the Randell Fief all came to the Church to pray and donate offerings,” Tournans interjected. “They are very devout.”

Pello argued, “But not all priests would misuse divine arts like Miller…”

“We command divine arts. This is a gift from the Supreme Lord, real and undeniable!” Clement cut his disciple off, stating firmly, “Where there are divine arts, there is faith!”

A light seemed to flash in Pello’s mind, but he couldn’t see anything clearly. His two gray eyebrows knitted and relaxed by turns as he mumbled, “I think I understand, yet I feel like I’m still missing something…”

“You were promoted too quickly. Your understanding of the doctrine isn’t thorough enough.”

Clement shook his head and asked sharply, “Does the Supreme Lord need the faith of mortals?”

Pello replied solemnly, “The Supreme Lord is a true god, the incarnation of the sun, without beginning or end, eternally existing. When the Supreme Lord first illuminated the world, humanity had not yet been born. He does not need humanity’s faith; it is humanity that needs faith.”

“Then why are the refugees in the Randell Fief less devout than before?”

“They see themselves as subjects and aspire to become vassals…” Pello thought for a moment, his voice growing softer. “They now live stable, increasingly prosperous lives, far from poverty, sickness, injury, and disaster…”

“Is that not what we are striving for? Or do we need the faithful to struggle just to survive, to live in pain?”

Pello stood up and bowed formally. “Tutor, please enlighten me.”

“We don’t need that. It’s just that we had no choice!”

Clement thought for a moment, then said slowly, “When the Legendary Priest Arya established the vassalage system, she said, ‘This might be a bad thing, but it is definitely a good thing. What’s important is that we have no other choice!’ Many people thought the Church was forced to compromise with the Knight-Nobles, allowing a portion of the faithful to become vassals to the lords. But the truth is the exact opposite. The Knight-Nobles became the victims of the vassalage system, and the Church was the greatest beneficiary.”

“The root of all this lies in the Radiant Code!”

“The first article of the Code: Knights protect, the Church redeems, the people contribute. It stipulates the responsibilities of these three groups, and with responsibility comes rights. So, the Knights hold secular authority, the Church holds divine authority, and the people seem to have only obligations and no rights. Is that really the case?”

“The Code does not stipulate the punishment for Knights who fail to protect the populace, nor does it stipulate the punishment for the Church when it fails to redeem them. The Code doesn’t even require the clergy to completely eradicate Wizards, because it’s simply impossible! If you try to enforce something that cannot be done, the Code will collapse. A Knight cannot possibly protect everyone, but he must protect himself. The Church cannot redeem all the faithful, but it must redeem itself. And the people do not necessarily have to contribute to their lord and the Church—they can contribute to themselves, protect themselves, redeem themselves. That is the true meaning of ‘protect, redeem, and contribute’!”

Pello asked carefully, “Then the purpose of establishing the Code was…”

“You’re right. The Code is a trap.” Clement smiled and nodded. “A trap His Holiness Inoc set specifically for the Knights.”

“During the Era of the Chosen, Wizards believed their souls were noble, and Knights believed their bloodlines were noble. Both the Council and the Pantheon consciously protected the Knights. The crazed Wizards performed Blood Sacrifices on beastmen, Barbarians, elves, and the common folk, but they never performed Blood Sacrifices on Knights… This is a historical mystery that has never been solved. Perhaps His Holiness the Pope knows the secret.”

Clement paused for a moment before continuing, “However, the Wizard War led to the sacrifice of a great many Knights, which is why the knightly families turned to support His Holiness Inoc and end the tyranny of the Chosen.”

“His Holiness Inoc established the Radiant Code, consigning secular power to the Knight-Nobles and divine power to the Church. This was certainly a compromise with reality. But I suspect the Pope was coerced by the Knights… Though His Holiness Inoc was immensely powerful, he still couldn’t protect himself from the Spirit Knights. He had no choice but to concede, but he placed many obscure clauses in the Radiant Code to restrain the Knights. For example, the clergy must not persecute Knight-Nobles without cause, lest they lose divine favor; Knight-Nobles must not slaughter commoners at will and must not sacrifice more than fifty thousand soldiers, otherwise the clergy have the right to sanction them.”

“Having the ‘right to sanction’ means they can choose to sanction or not, to execute or merely fine. The initiative is in the Church’s hands.”

“In the first year of the Radiant Calendar, the Goblin King Omi led a beastman army, enslaving fourteen white apes, and attacked the northern cities. The Black Emperor Galdemere gathered the northern knightly families and conscripted eight hundred thousand City-state soldiers for a pitched battle on the Plains of Grief. Although they successfully repelled the Goblin King, the northern Knights suffered heavy casualties, and five hundred thirty thousand City-state soldiers perished on the battlefield. His Holiness Pope Berto then led the Radiant Knights and the Temple Army to attack, completely annihilating the beastman army. Wielding the momentum of this great victory, His Holiness Berto inaugurated the Radiant Era and subsequently executed the Black Emperor Galdemere on the charge of sacrificing soldiers. This marked the end of the Golden Age and the beginning of the Silver Age.”

Clement said with a cold expression, “No matter how the Monasteries try to whitewash history, in my eyes, Berto is a sinner against history. What he began was a disaster for the human world!”

“From then on, relations between the knightly families and the clergy dropped to a freezing point. The citizens of the City-states, under the protection of the Church, fled from danger in droves, becoming refugees. The northern City-states fell one after another, and the human kingdoms were in grave peril, until Radiant Year 2973, when the noblewoman Arya proposed the vassalage system in the Ivory Sanctum.”

“On the surface, the vassalage system strengthened the power of the knightly families and weakened the Church’s influence…”

Tournans exclaimed, “We humans were on the brink of extinction, who had time to care about all that?!”

Clement smiled and nodded. “The core of the vassalage system was to have the Knights open their bloodlines to commoners. The knight’s bloodline also spread to the Church, leading to the emergence of many noble priests, like myself. The vassalage system strengthened the ties between the Knights and the Church, but it also led to the decline of the knight’s bloodline, with Bronze Knights becoming the mainstream of society. This is also known as the Bronze Age.”

“Arya was both a noblewoman and a priest. When she said ‘this might not be a good thing,’ she was referring to the Knights. When she said ‘it is definitely a good thing,’ she was referring to the Church. But the Knights and the Church truly had no other choice. The beastmen didn’t care who was noble and who was base. The result was decent enough—our ancestors defended the human world.”

Clement asked Pello, “My student, are vassal soldiers considered soldiers? Should the Knights be held accountable for their sacrifice? If vassal soldiers can contribute to themselves, protect themselves, and redeem themselves, then can a mercenary company of refugees do the same? The answer is yes, and they are already doing it! In fact, we do not treat the refugees well. The Church has almost no refugee priests now. The Pool of Holy Power is not open to refugees. Only the children of vassal families have the opportunity to become clergy. That being the case, what is wrong with His Excellency Randall recruiting a mercenary legion of refugees?”

Pello shook his head. “There is nothing wrong.”

“There is a problem! The problem is whether a mercenary legion of refugees is effective!” Tournans shouted.

“Well said!” Clement clapped Tournans on the shoulder, stood up, and clasped his hands behind his back. “Sylvia and I have both been pondering whether we can pioneer the Southern Continent by relying on vassal soldiers. The answer is no, and the failures of the Sasan Empire and the Kingdom of Borea are clear proof! Viscount Randell’s Grand Legion strategy has given us hope, but Sylvia and I cannot be certain if a mercenary legion will be effective… However, I am certain of one thing: we command divine arts, and the larger the population, the more abundant the Pool of Holy Power. This is our fundamental interest. The reforms in the Randell Fief align with the Church’s fundamental interests!”

“Arya brought about a transformation in the Church. Now, with the trend Victor is leading, what kind of transformation must we undergo to adapt to this new era?”

Pello’s eyes lit up, and he whispered, “His Holiness, are you saying…”

“Yes.” Clement nodded. “Pioneering is just a facade. Whoever can guide the Church’s transformation will be the protagonist of this era. That is why I am unwilling to let the Monasteries and the Inquisition enter the Randell Fief. This place is the land of hope for our Benedictine faction.”

“His Holiness, what are your plans?” Pello asked excitedly.

Clement paced back and forth a couple of steps, then looked up and said, “I convinced Her Majesty Rex to recruit three hundred thousand refugees for a large-scale water project, precisely to have the Kingdom of Naville emulate Viscount Randell’s development model. However…” The Pope frowned again. “His Excellency Randall seems somewhat hesitant. The schools he has established are only open to the families of his subjects; the families of refugee workers are excluded. This indicates that once his development reaches a certain stage, he will close the door on the refugees to focus on cultivating the next generation of his vassals and subjects. Otherwise, in twenty years, the Randell Fief shouldn’t have only four hundred thousand people, but eight hundred thousand. We must give him a push.”

“We will cooperate with His Excellency Randall to establish church schools, enrolling the children of both his subjects’ families and the refugee workers’ families!”

“Church schools?”

Clement’s gaze was fiery as he said, “Church schools and public carriages are the direction of the Church’s transformation! New Agro-husbandry fully taps the potential of a fief, which will lead to only one outcome—an increase in the population of registered subjects and the gradual disappearance of the refugee population. This means the lord’s secular influence will expand. If we don’t adjust our methods of proselytizing in time, the Church is highly likely to lose its dominant position in the human world.”

“Church schools will allow our influence to penetrate the families of vassals, subjects, and freemen. Public carriages will allow our transformation to spread rapidly.”

“But… we don’t have that many priests. How can we promote church schools? Are we going to let the Ivory Sanctum and the Ogelat Monastery have a piece of the pie?”

Clement smiled, a foxy grin. “We don’t need priests. The Kingdom of Ayr has plenty of people.”

Pello came to a sudden realization. He now completely understood Clement’s scheme.

Clement gave up the two dioceses of Gambis and Borea. On the surface, the Benedictine faction gave up the initiative in pioneering, focusing instead on the Church’s logistics. This would lower the guard of the Ivory Sanctum and the Radiant Knights, making them concentrate on pioneering. In secret, the Benedictine faction would quietly guide a transformation in their methods of proselytizing.

The people of the Theocracy of Ayr are all descendants of clergy. Their faith is firm, they are diligent in their martial training, and they are proficient in church affairs—they are essentially reserve clergy. The Radiant Knights and the Ivory Sanctum, busy with pioneering, would inevitably draw priests and Sacred Warriors from Ayr. The Benedictine faction, being short-handed, would have to call upon these reserve clergy. But since they cannot independently conduct church affairs, they would be limited to missionary work—establishing church schools and helping the Kingdom of Naville and the Centaur Hills convert refugees.

Gaining control over the public carriages and the diocese of the Great Plains would allow them to guide the migration of refugees from the Sasan Empire, thereby strengthening Naville and the Centaur Hills.

Once Naville and the Centaur Hills experienced a surge in strength and successfully pioneered their fiefs, other lords would certainly clamor to follow suit and request the establishment of church schools. As the population grows, the Pool of Holy Power will expand. These reserve clergy will be promoted to priests and Sacred Warriors, and they will become staunch supporters of the Benedictine faction, bringing the new methods of proselytizing to all corners of the world.

By the time the Radiant Knights and the Ivory Sanctum realized what was happening, the Benedictine faction’s position would be unassailable!

The most critical question now was: did Viscount Randell’s mercenary legion have any fighting capability?

Clement said, almost to himself, “Tomorrow, the Randell Fief will hold a military parade. I hope His Excellency Randall can conquer the Queen of Roses.”

“May our Lord bless His Excellency Randall,” Pello chanted in a low voice.

Clement noticed the parchment scroll on the table and frowned. “This file states that Miller was once a refugee from Sus. He reported his own son for being a Wizard and personally watched him be Purified. The priest presiding over the Purification Ceremony, considering Miller a devout believer, kept him on to do odd jobs at the Church. He eventually received our Lord’s favor and became a God-favored… The information here is incomplete. I need a more detailed report. Send someone to the Cathedral of Radiant Brilliance to retrieve all the files on that Purification Ceremony and bring them to me as soon as possible!”

“As you command, His Holiness!”

The Father’s bedroom in the left courtyard of the Church.

Boar’s eyes were tightly shut as he lay quietly on the floor. He was over 2.2 meters tall, and his fat-laden body weighed a full four hundred fifty pounds. The simple little wooden bed could not accommodate this tall, fat simpleton.

A ball of platinum-gold light condensed at Miller’s gaunt fingertips. Inside it were countless tiny, platinum-gold runes, slowly rotating in a profound and mysterious manner.

“Child, I awaken your wisdom and grant you sacred power. You will be immune to poison, immune to soul damage. You will manipulate the wind with holy power to become nimble and agile. You will manipulate water with holy power to heal wounds and illnesses. You will manipulate the earth with holy power to become strong and mighty. You will manipulate fire with holy power to make your spirit whole and your intuition keen. You are the Radiant God of War, and a holy angel walks with you. You are my eyes, my ears, my vessel. Protecting your Master is your mission; saving him from death is your destiny. Child, I beseech our Lord to have mercy on you. May the angel not descend upon you.”

The platinum-gold ball of light sank into Boar’s forehead. The phantom of a four-winged angel appeared on the surface of his body, covering him entirely like a suit of armor. In an instant, the angel shrank to a single point and vanished without a trace.

Miller gazed at Boar’s ugly face, sighed, and knelt on one knee, chanting: “I say, nine companions shall gather by your side. They are your sword, your shield, your armor, your hands, and your legs. They will accompany you into the endless forest, clearing the way for you, to face the Mother of the Ant Tribe. Five of them will cross the great river with you to see the truth of the world. You will not die, for the Radiant God of War will take up your destiny. You shall return, and you shall usher in a new era.”

After speaking, Miller stood up, his body trembling. The wrinkles on his face had grown even deeper.

The wooden door to the bedroom was pushed open from the outside, and a small head peeked in. The face was round and chubby, with a pair of large eyes as clear as an infant’s.

She nibbled on her plump, tender fingers and said softly, “Grandpa Miller, you seem to have gotten older again. Haven’t you been eating and sleeping well?”

Miller’s old face bloomed into a smile. He beckoned, “Bel, come quickly. Let me introduce you to a new friend.”

Beldina hopped over to the bedside, stared at Boar, and exclaimed, “He’s so fat! He definitely eats more than Bel! I don’t want to be friends with him. He’ll steal my snacks, steal my marbled ham, steal my grilled salmon… and he’ll steal my…” As she spoke, she started drooling.

(figurative expression of annoyance) Miller replied dryly, “Actually, Boar gets full very easily. He won’t steal your ham…”

Boar suddenly opened his eyes and mumbled indistinctly, “Hungry… I want to eat ham.”

Chapter 379: Participation and Expectation

Before dawn, the sun had yet to rise above the horizon, and Laketon was veiled in darkness.

Inside the Magistrate’s Office, candlelight blazed brightly. Three men wearing fine linen shirts with grey towels tied around their necks stood obediently in the center of the office, awaiting the magistrate’s orders.

Magistrate Munk leaned back in a leather sofa, his legs propped up on the oak desk, a small purple dagger dancing deftly between his fingers, performing a dazzling array of tricks. Ever since he had become the magistrate of the Randell Fief and married a young and beautiful household maid, Monkey’s life had become stable and prosperous. His frame had gradually filled out, and his face had taken on a dignified air, making him seem like a completely different person from the shifty-eyed hooligan and scoundrel he once was. Yet, he had never stopped his martial arts training. On the contrary, he practiced his Mystic Form even more diligently. Now, he had achieved a fair degree of skill and could easily handle two or three burly men.

With a flick of his thumb, the adamantine dagger leaped straight into its sheath. Munk lowered his legs, sat up straight, and remarked, “Your clothes are decent and clean enough.”

A burly man with a face full of brutish flesh squeezed out a sycophantic smile. He nodded and bowed obsequiously. “We wouldn’t dare mess up your affairs, my lord.”

Munk was very pleased with the Grey Towel chief’s respectful attitude. He nodded and said, “The Master places great importance on today’s military parade and Carnival. He has invited many truly important figures to observe. As of last night, more than forty thousand people have arrived in Laketon, and we estimate several thousand more will arrive before noon today. My Lady Lilia personally instructed me that there must be no mistakes whatsoever with Laketon’s security and sanitation! I want all of the Grey Towels to assist the magistrate’s soldiers in maintaining order in Laketon. Tell your men to be sharp. Everyone must wear a red armband, and their clothes must be clean and tidy. I don’t want people smelling a stench of manure on them. Do you all understand?”

“My lord, rest assured.” The burly man slapped his sturdy chest and boomed, “All one thousand two hundred and forty-eight of the Grey Towels have washed their clothes with soap. Every single one of them smells fragrant. We absolutely will not bring shame upon you, my lord…”

“You idiot, what shame would I suffer? You three are the ones who are dung-heads!” Munk cursed with a laugh. “If you’re ready, then get the hell out of here and get to work… Don’t forget to take the red armbands!”

The three burly men grinned, slipped on their red armbands, and walked out of the Laketon Magistrate’s Office.

Morning. Laketon’s Administrative Office.

Several stewards followed closely behind Lilia, reporting as they walked. “The Magistrate’s Office has already assembled over one thousand members of the Grey Towels. They will coordinate with the magistrate’s soldiers to close off the two main roads and ensure the First Legion’s marching route is clear. Lord Munk has assured us that there will be absolutely no problems with the order in Laketon.”

“We’ve requisitioned ninety aides from the various villages. Every three aides will lead sixty hired laborers to set up temporary tents in the town’s eastern district to accommodate fifty thousand people. The public’s drinking water and sanitary conditions are guaranteed.”

“Father Miller’s church attendants and six hundred nurses have already set up forty relief stations. They are responsible for providing medical assistance to the public and distributing basic living supplies and food.”

“How are the food preparations coming along?” Lilia asked without breaking her stride, her high heels tapping against the floor with a crisp thud, thud, thud.

“My Lady, please rest assured,” the Grain Supervisor said, hurrying to keep pace with Lilia. “We began preparations ten days ago. As per your instructions, the bakeries in each village are distributing enough free black bread to last two days to all who come to attend the Carnival. In addition, the main mess hall has requisitioned half of the staff from the village bakeries and temporarily hired one thousand two hundred helpers. We can provide sufficient food for eighty thousand people.”

“And the public carriages?”

“Eighty public carriages are running on their normal schedules. We’ve also mobilized four hundred twenty lattice-sided freight wagons from the freight yard and Brick Kiln Village. After some simple modifications, they will transport the elderly, weak, women, and children from the villages free of charge.”

“The various shops, taverns, and inns have already stocked up on goods and liquor. They are following the Administrative Office’s orders to sell goods at a discount to the public during the Carnival. The difference will be deducted from their transaction tax.”

As they spoke, they arrived at the door to the conference hall. Lilia stopped, turned around, and said, “I am very satisfied with your preparations, but everyone must remember, the military parade and Carnival are Lord Randal’s way of reviewing and testing our logistical capabilities. This concerns the future of the family, and it concerns the future of each and every one of you. Gentlemen, please perform your duties faithfully. There can be no negligence. You must also identify and fix any shortcomings and accumulate experience.”

“The Master’s will is our mission!” the stewards declared in unison.

“Go on, back to your work.”

The stewards bowed and departed. Lilia turned towards the conference hall. Marcy, clad in oversized crocodile-hide armor, raised a hand and pushed open the heavy iron-oak doors. For her recklessness that nearly led to a capital crime of murder, she had been sentenced to twenty years of hard labor by the lord. To her surprise, My Lady Lilia had transferred her to her side as a guard. From the bottom of her heart, Marcy was grateful for Lilia’s appreciation and rescue. She certainly wouldn’t miss this opportunity to rise in the world and swore her loyalty to the House of Randell and to Lilia.

Inside the conference hall, more than twenty men and women were chatting amongst themselves. They were the leaders of eleven traveling troupes. Upon seeing Lilia enter, the troupe representatives all rose to greet her.

“My Lady Randell, good morning. You look absolutely stunning today. I can’t help but wish to fall at your feet,” a lavishly dressed Bard praised in an exaggerated tone. He bent a knee and bowed, intending to take Lilia’s delicate hand for a kiss.

Lilia was dressed in a well-fitting white spider silk gown, a blue water lizard skin belt accentuating her full bosom and slender waist. She wore calfskin high heels, her gait both graceful an commanding, making the legs beneath her long skirt appear exceptionally straight and slender. She was already a rare beauty, and now, living a life of comfort and privilege, she bathed in milk daily and consumed expensive beautifying potions. Her snow-white skin had become lustrous and firm, her almond eyes shone brightly, and her flax-colored hair was styled into a noblewoman’s updo. Ruby earrings dangled from her earlobes, and a string of rare freshwater pearls adorned her fair neck. She appeared gorgeous and dignified, possessing more of a noble’s air than these Bards who had noble bloodlines.

Ignoring the Bard’s fawning, Lilia surveyed her surroundings, her cherry lips parting slightly. “Ladies and gentlemen, how are your preparations?”

“Esteemed Lady, please rest assured. We have been drilling for a full three months for this day. Today, we will use our beautiful voices to sing praises of the nobility and greatness of the House of Randell,” the Bard said, casually dusting his knee as if nothing had happened. “If our performance moves people’s hearts, we hope you might grant us one small additional request—ten cleansing potions would make us a hundred times more confident.”

The cost of one cleansing potion was less than two thousand Gold Sols, but its price was two thousand Gold Sols, no less. Even for the House of Randell with its current wealth, ten cleansing potions was a huge sum. Lilia’s expression turned cold, and Marcy immediately took a step forward, glaring murderously at the Bard who was trying to hike up prices on the spot.

“Er… five… I mean one… My lady, what I mean is, you don’t need to trouble yourself with the potions,” the Bard stammered, involuntarily taking half a step back and breaking into a cold sweat on his forehead as he faced the female guard who was taller and more robust than most men.

“Shut up, Kales!”

A tall, buxom woman stepped forward, pushing aside the presumptuous Bard. She curtsied to Lilia and said, “Esteemed Lady, please pay no mind to this idiot’s nonsense. The remuneration from the House of Randell is more than generous. We shouldn’t make unreasonable demands…”

She was about twenty-six or twenty-seven years old, with pretty features, but her skin was slightly coarse. A head of beautiful golden hair and azure eyes added much to her charm. This air of being weathered by hardship reminded Lilia of her life wandering with mercenary companies. Her icy expression gradually softened. She mused, “Miss Joanna, what is it you wish to say? An increase in pay?”

“No! No! No!” Joanna shook her head repeatedly, pursed her thin lips, and mustered her courage. “Esteemed Lady Randell, the song you taught us is truly… apologies, I’m a little emotional.” Taking a breath, she continued in an adoring tone, “I never imagined a song could be so stirring and magnificent, it makes one’s blood boil and fills them with fighting spirit… I don’t know how to describe it, but its composer must be a remarkable musical master… To be able to sing this war song is the honor of my life. I only hope that after the performance, I might meet that musical master, if only just to say thank you.”

Joanna looked at Lilia with eyes full of expectation. She loved singing and the stage and hadn’t married into a wealthy vassal family while she was young and beautiful, choosing instead to wander with a traveling troupe. The hardships of life and frequent performances had damaged Joanna’s throat, turning her lark-like voice hoarse and dull, no longer able to win the applause and praise of audiences. She could only retreat behind the scenes and focus on teaching the troupe’s new singers.

The House of Randell had recruited musical troupes and Bards to perform for the military parade, using an unprecedented method of ensemble and chorus that required long periods of coordination and practice between the various troupes. The House of Randell offered the performers generous pay. Joanna had been planning to retire and marry after this deal, but she hadn’t expected Viscount Randell to choose her over the newer singers, claiming her voice had a “metallic quality” that was perfect for this new song.

And it was true. The new song seemed tailor-made for Joanna. She believed this performance would be the pinnacle of her singing career, leaving her with no regrets. If there was one, it was not having met the song’s composer.

A proud smile creased the corners of Lilia’s lips. She raised an eyebrow and said, “You’ve already met the composer of this song…”

Met him… Joanna racked her brains but then heard Lilia’s proud voice, “He is my husband, Lord Viscount Randell.”

So it was him… Joanna was lost in a daze, unable to reconcile the image of the handsome, frail Viscount in her mind with that of a magnanimous musical master.

Lilia said lightly, “If you all perform well, I will ask Lord Randal to personally commend you, but I can’t make any promises. Many high-ranking nobles will be attending this parade, including His Grace Duke York, His Grace Bishop Pello… and His Holiness the Pontiff… My husband must attend to our honored guests.”

Lilia’s gaze shifted to the Bard. “As for this gentleman,” she said coolly, “I’m afraid you still don’t know the true value of a cleansing potion. I’ll tell you now: one cleansing potion is worth two thousand Gold Sols!”

At that moment, the Bard Kales’s mind was filled with “My lord Duke,” “My lord Bishop,” and “His Holiness the Pontiff.” A flush of excitement spread across his pale face. He called out to Lilia’s departing back, “Esteemed Lady, I will certainly not disappoint you!”

“It is you lot… who had best not disappoint me, or else…”

Without a backward glance, Lilia left the great hall. The heavy doors slammed shut, and the representatives of the opera troupes instantly erupted into a clamor of discussion.

Morning, Silver Moon Manor.

The Elina sisters, dressed in their finest, stood before the family attendants and household maids.

“What are the three duties of a vassal?” Elina asked, her small, snow-white hands crossed before her abdomen as she looked at the attendants and maids she had trained.

“Respect, Counsel, Aid,” the young men and women, dressed in the formal attire of attendants and handmaidens, answered in unison.

“A vassal has the responsibility to provide all respectful services to his sovereign. This includes accompanying his sovereign on solemn occasions. For example, today’s military parade.” Elina smiled gently and said slowly, “Of course, you are not yet official vassals of the House of Randell, but one day, you will serve as family stewards, Legion Centurions, and become true vassals, or the wives of vassals.”

The adult attendants and household maids had all been assigned their own posts and had already left Silver Moon Manor. The number of attendants and maids at the manor had not decreased but rather increased. They now had a greater drive to succeed and a stronger sense of family consciousness. Hearing My Lady Elina’s words, they were either excited or shy, but every one of them was eager to prove their ability.

“Today, you will act as vassals of Viscount Randell and provide respectful service to our noble guests. Remember your station and your etiquette. Do not bring shame upon the family. This is the Master’s test and expectation for you. Is that understood?” her sister Alice said rather sternly.

“Understood!”

Elina and her sister exchanged a smile. “You take them to prepare the carriages,” Elina said. “I’ll go see if my lord and My Lady Nicole are ready.”

The master bedroom of Silver Moon Manor.

Victor stood before a silver-framed mirror, his entire body encased in exquisitely crafted black armor, exuding an aura that was reserved, profound, mysterious, yet brimming with hidden power.

A pair of slender, jade-like hands slipped under his arms, gently embracing him. Nicole’s smooth, fair cheek pressed against Victor’s, her eyes hazy, her red lips exhaling a sweet fragrance. “Victor, this is so wonderful…”

Even through the ceremonial armor, Victor could feel Nicole’s heartbeat and warmth. He smiled and asked, “Because it’s you by my side, and not Sophia?”

“Mhm,” Nicole pouted, humming softly, her clingy, sweet look especially adorable.

“Even if she were here, you would still have the right to stand by my side. Four hundred of these two thousand mercenary soldiers are Baroness Fynikos’s men.”

“What’s mine is yours, always,” Nicole said, moving to stand in front of Victor. Her long fingers caressed the black armor, and she frowned. “The parade is at noon. The sun will make this armor scorching hot. Why not choose the silver armor? I’m really worried you won’t be able to bear it.”

“The silver armor reflects light and is blinding, which isn’t good for the spectators. Besides, the soldiers are all in black armor. If the general is out of step with his soldiers, he’ll just become a target for the enemy… Alright, I’m not as delicate as you think,” Victor said with a helpless sigh.

“My dear, you are my Warrior.”

Nicole, full of apology, pecked her lover’s lips, then said worriedly, “Victor, can a parade of two thousand mercenary soldiers really change His Holiness the Pontiff’s mind?”

“Change the Pontiff’s mind? No, the parade isn’t a show for the Pontiff and Sylvia.”

Victor shook his head and said, “The parade has mobilized all of the House of Randell’s vassals, stewards, aides, officers, and soldiers, as well as their families and subordinates. These people are both participants and witnesses. I hope the parade will unite our people, establish a family spirit, and instill in them a sense of honor and belonging. That is the purpose of holding this military parade and Carnival.”

Knock, knock, knock.

Elina’s voice came from outside the door. “My lord, My Lady, the carriages are ready.”

Victor took Nicole’s hand and said with a smile, “Nicole, let us witness the birth of the House of Randell together!”

Chapter 380: A Resonant Military Parade

In the barracks north of Laketon, the mercenary soldiers were making their final preparations for the upcoming Military Parade.

Sabins sat on a wooden stool, carefully polishing a one-handed halberd that gleamed with a faint blue light.

This melee weapon was a combination of an axe and a spear. It was 1.9 meters long, with a shaft made of Iron-oak soaked in tung oil. A heavy battleaxe head was attached to the spearhead; the tip could be used for thrusting, the axe blade for chopping, and the hook on the back for breaking an enemy’s limbs or neck.

It was no easy feat to master such a vicious weapon. Sabins had been in the First Mercenary Legion for two and a half years. He trained diligently every day, earning praise from even the strictest instructors, which had led to his promotion to Corporal of an eight-man squad. Yet, Sabins had only mastered the use of the longspear, the one-handed spear, the shield, and the javelin. When it came to technique, he still fell far short of the instructors.

The infantrymen of the mercenary legion usually focused on practicing the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form to increase their strength and stamina. They emphasized willpower, obedience, squad tactics, and coordination between different unit types. There was no urgent demand for individual martial prowess.

A signature weapon like the one-handed halberd, a symbol of the elite, was something the vast majority of legionaries did not know how to use. But that didn’t stop everyone from loving to handle it.

It was said that only those who had cultivated both the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form and the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form to an advanced level could be considered Elite Soldiers. At that point, they could easily master any weapon, including, of course, the one-handed halberd.

All the mercenary soldiers who had come from a refugee background lacked a sense of security. They yearned for greater personal martial strength to become Elite Soldiers of the family. Although the House of Randell had made advanced martial arts and secret arts available to the mercenary legion, a step-by-step process was essential. The mercenaries needed time to build a solid foundation, receive guidance from instructors, and be supplied with ample food, potions, and equipment. Therefore, they had to serve in the legion for at least ten years before they had a chance of becoming Elite Soldiers.

Before that, this powerful, refined iron one-handed halberd was merely a beautiful ceremonial weapon.

“Everyone, get ready to change into your gear! The assembly call for the parade could sound at any moment, and we absolutely cannot be the last squad to fall in! Otherwise, you can look forward to a seven-kilometer cross-country run in full gear!” Decurion Kao shouted at Sabins and the others. His deputies, “Wolf” and Bill, followed behind him.

Kao had once been the son of a vassal in the Dodor Kingdom. He had lost his liege, fief, and family to the war, becoming a refugee. But he was skilled, proficient with all types of weapons, and especially good with ranged ones. He could pierce a fleeing goat from sixty meters away with a javelin and hit an oak target 120 meters away repeatedly with a bow from horseback. With just a spear, he could trounce an entire eight-man squad, and not one of the twenty-six soldiers under him thought him anything less than formidable.

Sabins and the other two Corporals even believed Kao’s martial skills surpassed those of Battalion Commander Anwen. Kao, however, had reprimanded them harshly, forbidding his soldiers from speaking ill of their superiors. Once, after a few drinks, Kao had slipped up and implicitly told his three Corporals that every legionary had a chance to become a Centurion, but it couldn’t be achieved through personal valor alone. One also had to learn tactical command, and most importantly, loyalty. As for positions above Centurion, one had to come from the ranks of the Silver Moon Attendants; mercenaries like them had no hope, though a Centurion’s next generation might have a chance.

A Centurion commanded over eighty soldiers and was already a prominent figure. Kao’s goal was to become a Centurion, and Sabins, too, wanted to advance and become a Decurion. He consciously imitated his superior, working to improve his leadership skills rather than focusing solely on his personal fighting ability.

Kao’s two deputies, Bill and Wolf, were prime examples.

Bill, a former refugee who had just turned twenty, ranked at the bottom of the squad in both physical fitness and martial skill. But he was clever and articulate, so Kao had promoted him to be his deputy responsible for relaying orders. Wolf was strong, hardworking, and exceptionally skilled in combat, almost on par with Decurion Kao himself. But he was taciturn, wooden, and unsociable, unable to adapt. He hadn’t even made Corporal. Yet Kao was very fond of Wolf, considering him a confidant and putting him in charge of the squad’s discipline.

It was just as Sabins’s stepmother, Marcy, had said: only someone with fists, brains, and helpers could secure the position of a refugee chief.

This rule of refugee leadership seemed to apply in the mercenary legion as well. Decurion Kao was both brave and clever. He had won over his two deputies and three Corporals, and his twenty-six soldiers were completely under his command.

Sabins understood these tactics, but he lacked a deep understanding of loyalty, the most important quality. A refugee’s loyalty was to obey the chief, but he was no longer a refugee. Sabins had asked his superior what loyalty meant for a mercenary. Kao had been silent for a long time before telling them with a complex expression that loyalty was love, support, courage, and obedience—a noble virtue.

The three Corporals only half-understood, but they knew they had to do their jobs well to satisfy Lord Narsen and Lord Randal. Otherwise, they would have no future.

Outside the barracks, in the plaza, a bugler sounded a clear, urgent assembly call.

“Gear up! Fall in!”

At Decurion Kao’s command, the soldiers reflexively began to don their equipment.

Gearing up and forming ranks was a crucial training exercise for the mercenary legion. Once the assembly call sounded, the soldiers worked in pairs, helping each other. Within three minutes, they had to put on their leather inner armor, steel ring mail, hard leather greaves, and combat boots; don their helmets; shoulder two javelins and a sword-hiding shield; and pick up their one-handed spears. Then, led by their Decurion, they had to assemble in formation, ready for battle at any moment.

Spencer’s eight-man squad was fully equipped and in a single file line in just two minutes. He quickly inspected his men’s gear and was the first to report, “Squad Two, ready!”

“Squad One, ready!”

“Squad Three, ready!”

Kao nodded in satisfaction and commanded, “Squad Thirty-one, move out!”

Twenty-seven soldiers formed a column and followed their Decurion, marching out of the barracks in an orderly fashion. In the plaza, the Centurions and Personal Guard squads of each company had already raised their banners, and lines of soldiers moved swiftly to their designated positions. Five minutes later, four five-hundred-man infantry phalanxes stood on the training ground, the entire process proceeding in a methodical and orderly manner. Next, 150 cavalrymen, divided into five troops, lined up to the right of the infantry phalanxes. Finally, 120 well-equipped Swiftbird light cavalrymen made their entrance, taking their proud position at the far right of the training ground.

Two figures clad entirely in black armor stood before the phalanxes. They were the First Legion’s Commander, Lord Narsen, and its Deputy Commander, Lord Jomosen.

Sabins rarely saw Deputy Commander Jomosen. He had heard that the man held a purely nominal title, as he was stationed at the southern fortress most of the time, only occasionally commanding the mercenary legion in battles against the Fishmen. Legion Commander Narsen was different; he was in the barracks almost every day, training soldiers, holding various tactical drills, and often leading the legion into real combat against the Fishmen.

Although Commander Narsen was a strict disciplinarian, he was of commoner birth. When necessary, he would display his own immense martial power, personally slaying Savage Fishmen to protect the infantry phalanxes. In the hearts of the mercenary soldiers, Commander Narsen was undoubtedly their role model and leader.

Sabins’s gaze followed the Commander, filled with gratitude and admiration. It was thanks to Lord Narsen’s intervention that his mother, Marcy, had avoided punishment and even become one of My Lady Lilia’s guards.

“Cavalry, ready!”

“Swiftbird light cavalry, ready!”

“First Battalion, ready!”

“Second Battalion, ready!”

“Third Battalion, ready!”

“Fourth Archer Battalion, ready!”

Three combat squads formed a twenty-seven-man squad led by a Decurion. Three squads formed a ninety-man company led by a Centurion. Five companies and two squads formed a five-hundred-man battalion led by a Battalion Commander. After counting their men, the four Battalion Commanders and the cavalry Commander reported to the Legion Commander.

Narsen glanced up at the sun, then turned his gaze to the two thousand legionaries. Mounting his warhorse, he waved a hand. “On my command! Move out!” With that, he galloped to the far right of the cavalry.

The cavalry standard-bearer waved a spear-pennant, and the military formations, linked head to tail, began to move towards Laketon in neat and orderly columns, like a great python awakening.

Deputy Commander Jomosen had come from Rose Manor’s secret knights. After retiring, he had become Nicole’s Vassal and served as the Garrison Commander of her barony. Though he looked down on the refugee soldiers from the bottom of his heart, he dared not underestimate the Silver-rank Bear of the Northlands. However, Narsen’s attitude towards the Military Parade made Jomosen deeply uneasy. As the legion was about to enter the gates of Laketon, he could no longer contain his worry and whispered, “Your Excellency, the noble lords are all waiting to observe the Military Parade. Should we not brief the soldiers one more time?”

Narsen asked, sounding slightly baffled, “Brief them about what?”

Jomosen’s expression froze. “My lord,” he said helplessly, “are we just going to walk through like this? What if someone blocks the road? Shouldn’t we prepare for such unexpected situations in advance?”

“If someone blocks the road, we’ll run them over! Monkey will be responsible for the aftermath.” Narsen grinned, lowering his helmet’s visor. His voice came out muffled. “Lord Randal said that if I need to make preparations just to take the mercenary legion for a stroll through the city, then it would be his failure… and even more so, our shame!” That last sentence was his own true thought.

Jomosen was startled. He suddenly realized that besides himself and Narsen, none of the soldiers around them were speaking. Behind this silence lay the iron discipline of the First Legion and a pride that came from the heart. He had to admit that, regardless of their combat effectiveness, the two thousand-strong refugee mercenary legion already possessed a hint of the Fanged Legion’s elite aura.

The main road of Laketon was wide enough for five carriages to travel side by side. The road was clean and clear. The populace was held back behind the greenbelts by members of The Grey Towels wearing red armbands. They stood on their tiptoes, craning their necks and widening their eyes, waiting for the legion to appear.

Hoofbeats clopping on the flagstone road were the first to ring out, a crisp tap, tap, followed by the shushing of combat boots and the clang of colliding armor, all merging into a stern and solemn symphony.

“Look, here they come!” a sharp-eyed townsperson shouted.

Cavalrymen in black clothes and black armor, Swiftbird war-riders, infantry phalanxes, and archer phalanxes appeared on the road in neat formations, a torrent of black steel flowing unstoppably forward.

The crowd, which had been waiting for some time, tried to surge forward but was pushed back by The Grey Towels and security soldiers. They could only stand on the sides of the road, shouting loudly.

“How majestic! I want to be a mercenary too…” a young lad yelled to his friends.

“Ron, look here! Over here… See him? The fourth soldier in the third row is my son, Ron!” a father boasted to the people around him.

“Jackson, Jackson Haru! Where is he? I can’t see him. Tell him we’re living in tent area 433! Tell him to come find us later! Don’t forget!” a young woman holding a child asked an acquaintance in the ranks to pass a message to her husband.

“Why are you shoving me? Careful or I’ll punch you!” “The person behind me pushed… What are you staring at? You dare stare at me again?!” Two men began to shove each other over the crowding. They ended up being dragged to the side of the road by The Grey Towels and ordered to pay a fine.

The military formation rolled forward, a forest of spears, its presence immense. But the mercenary soldiers were either relatives or friends of the onlookers, so the crowd on the streets didn’t feel an overwhelming sense of pressure. Everyone was just there for the spectacle, showing off and comparing with one another, the chaotic noise grating on the nerves.

The populace couldn’t feel the earth-shattering momentum, and the soldiers in the formation felt it even less.

The noon sun beat down relentlessly, baking the black armor until it was scorching hot. Sabins felt like a loaf of bread wrapped in a furnace. Sweat blurred his eyes, and the nearly one hundred pounds of equipment made it hard for him to breathe. Military discipline and pride forbade him from showing weakness, and he kept his back as straight as a spear, but he still yearned to reach the central plaza sooner and for the parade to end.

At a corner where the main road led to the central plaza, The Grey Towels had set up a warning line, cordoning off an open space where a few people stood. Sabins’s vision was blurry, and he couldn’t make out their faces, only vaguely discerning a few children and adults.

Just as the formation was about to pass the corner, the adults raised bagpipes to their lips. A graceful tune flowed from the pipes, drifting on the wind, as refreshing and melodious as a tinkling spring, soothing the soul.

“Dawn’s light illuminates the land, flowers bloom, and the Dawn Sparrow sings,” a seraphic, pure child’s voice sang in time with the pipes.

The pipes gradually grew more cheerful, and the children sang in chorus again, “The morning breeze stirs the clouds, sunlight bathes all, and bells ring out.”

Sabins was captivated by the song. It reminded him of a beautiful morning, and his spirits lifted. His restless mood slowly calmed, and a smile appeared on his face. The formation moved past the singers and onto Laketon’s central plaza, where another group of Bards awaited them, this time playing harps.

“From afar come the footsteps of monsters, the earth trembles.”

“The air is thick with tension, war is coming.”

The urgent melody made Sabins hold his breath. He gripped the refined iron halberd in his hand, his gaze sharp and vigilant. The entire formation’s aura changed, becoming like a taut bowstring.

“Tears trace a mother’s cheek, home is behind us.”

“The war horn sounds, blood surges, the time to defend our home is now!”

The high, full notes of a horn, magnificent and majestic, rang out with sonorous authority. Sabins could almost see hordes of snarling monsters surging forward like a tide, about to swallow his home and his family. Only by fighting bravely could he protect his home, his parents, his brothers and sisters.

At that moment, the powerful, vigorous beat of war drums crashed like thunder and lightning, piercing through the dark clouds and roaring between heaven and earth. A magical power completely ignited the hot blood in his chest.

“My King, My King, hear your command!”

“Longspears drink enemy blood, battleaxes devour enemy flesh.”

“Forward, forward, never retreat!”

“Brothers-in-arms side-by-side, fighting in a sea of blood!”

A husky female voice sang the stirring song. Sabins felt as if he were on a blood-soaked battlefield, fighting desperately against the enemy. Comrades fell one after another around him, but there was no sorrow or despair in their hearts, only the conviction to slay the enemy heroically.

“Armor for a tomb, longsword for a monument.”

“My Lord, My Lord, may your radiance shine upon us.”

“My Lord, My Lord, may your radiance endure in this world forever.”

A sense of magnanimous heroism surged within them. The legionaries were no longer lost or afraid. The formation’s momentum climbed higher and higher, seeming as unstoppable as a landslide, as indestructible as a mountain range.

The crowd surged into the plaza behind the formation. Even The Grey Towels, who were supposed to be maintaining order, were among them. They were silent, their eyes filled with tears. The earlier clamor was gone, replaced by surging, hot blood.

Narsen roared, “First Legion, quick march!”

The soldiers’ steps were perfectly synchronized, thunderous as a single giant, as if they would crush any obstacle daring to stand in their path.

“First Legion, eyes right! Salute!”

The soldiers turned their heads in unison. Before the wooden viewing stand, they saw two Knights in black armor, one mounted on a powerfully built blue Swiftbird and the other on a black steed, watching the formation. They were the masters to whom the mercenary legion had sworn allegiance: Lord Viscount Randell and Baroness Phoenix.

Thump! The soldiers raised their left hands and struck their chests hard, a sound like the legion’s own thunder paying tribute to its masters.

“Still a bunch of rookies, but they seem different somehow…” On the viewing stand, Tournans watched the formation below, rubbing his smooth chin.

Sylvia, dressed in her finest, sat steadily in her chair with a smile gracing her lips. Behind her stood all the high-ranking Knights of the York family.

With Knights and soldiers, how could the light of our Lord be absent… Clement smiled faintly, stood up, and proclaimed, “Servants of the Supreme Lord, lend me your strength.”

Bishop Pello led the priests, flanking the Pope. They raised their hands and chanted in low voices as specks of light converged on the Pope’s platinum scepter. A beam of platinum light shot towards the sky before descending as a curtain of holy light, enveloping the First Legion in the plaza and bathing every soldier in a sacred glow.

Victor felt a wave of ease wash over him. The searing heat of his armor dissipated rapidly, his perception sharpened, and strength and courage welled up endlessly from within his body.

The third-rank divine art, Heroism Art, could invigorate the spirit, restore stamina, fortify fighting will, and slightly increase strength and agility for ten minutes. An ordinary third-rank priest could at most cast it on fifteen people at once. For Clement to cast the Heroism Art on over two thousand people simultaneously was nothing short of a miracle.

The people in the plaza fell to their knees, loudly praising the Lord of Radiance. The infantry phalanx, however, marched straight through the plaza without the slightest hesitation.

Victor was secretly overjoyed. He was very satisfied with the First Mercenary Legion’s performance. If the soldiers had knelt to pray, that would have been the greatest failure. They had clearly not forgotten their military discipline in the face of the holy light, and that was the most important thing.

From the very beginning, Victor had never expected a two-thousand-man military parade to be enough to unite the hearts of the people and forge the army’s conviction. So, he had thought of the magnificent musical works from Earth.

Music transcended any language and possessed a charm that could move people’s hearts. The people of the Randell Fief came from all over and had no inherent sense of loyalty to the house, but that didn’t mean they were opposed to it. In fact, the vast majority of refugees longed to become subjects of a noble house; they just lacked a unified identity. Music and the military parade could evoke a resonance in their hearts, urging them to unite under Victor’s banner and choose to pledge their loyalty to the House of Randell.

In truth, the parade formation hadn’t changed; what had changed was the people’s mentality. When everyone’s emotions were stirred by the music, their perception of the military formation was different. Of course, this change couldn’t influence the will of high-ranking Knights and high-ranking clergy. Victor didn’t care what the distinguished guests thought. As long as the people’s feelings for the Randell Fief were elevated, that was enough.

Victor hadn’t expected the Pope to personally cast a divine art to boost the First Legion’s morale. The Pope’s public signal of support was a completely unexpected and pleasant surprise.

At that moment, Sylvia finally stood up and said, her voice soft yet firm, “Very good!”

Chapter 381: The Conditions for the Reward

Early in the morning, by the boundless wheat fields outside Laketon, dozens of burly guards were scattered in a wide circle. The standard-issue leather armor they wore and the emblems on their chests identified them as mid-rank Sacred Warriors and battle priests. The two they were protecting were noble lords: one was a young man with features as exquisite as an elf’s, and the other a middle-aged man of about forty, possessing the handsome appearance and naturally elegant bearing of a Knight-Noble.

“The grains are full. The Randell Fief will have a great harvest this year.”

The middle-aged man held a slightly yellowed ear of wheat, rubbed the grains into his palm, and placed them in his mouth to chew carefully. Meeting the young noble’s surprised gaze, he explained with a smile, “To me, wasting food is a crime.”

Victor was filled with deep respect, not because of the Pope’s power and status, nor because of the Legendary Priest’s strength and wisdom, but because of the way Clement embodied his principles, and his personal charisma of being strict with himself and lenient with others.

“Every grain of wheat represents a farmer’s hard sweat.” After a moment of thought, Victor added sincerely, “Diligence is a virtue worthy of respect.”

“It’s not just the farmers.” The Pope nodded, tossed away the bare stalk, and clapped his hands. His gaze shifted to the green wheat fields as he said, “Over seven hundred years ago, Spelt was just a common foxtail grass, widely planted in the southern regions as pasture. In that era, the green wheat from the north could satisfy the food needs of the kingdoms, so southern Nobles primarily accumulated wealth through herding cattle and sheep. As the northern territories continued to shrink, the acreage for green wheat decreased year by year. The people of the north migrated to the southern fiefs through the passes of the Giantstone Mountains, and food became a major problem.”

“Scholars from the Church and the Spire began searching for crops suitable for southern lands, and that included cultivating Spelt.” Clement pondered for a moment before turning to Victor. “You would never guess that the technique for cultivating Spelt originated from ancient Wizards. They used Wizardry to accelerate the mutation process in plants, cultivating the northern green wheat that could be harvested twice a year. It took us over three hundred years of selecting mutated foxtail grass specimens to cultivate Spelt.”

Victor never expected the Pope to so frankly acknowledge the contributions of Wizards to agricultural development. For the moment, he could only remain silent.

Clement smiled, unfazed. He clasped his hands behind his back and said, “Spelt has a long growth cycle and a low yield. The south still needs other types of crops to fill the gap during the wheat’s lean season. Drought-resistant rye and high-yield Spiked Kidney Beans were both part of our cultivation projects. Unfortunately, rye’s yield is even lower, and Spiked Kidney Beans spoil too easily. Improving these varieties will require more time and larger-scale cultivation. But the lords have no patience, and the people need food. All these conflicts manifest on the limited arable land. The noble scholars and the Monasteries couldn’t solve this problem. They could only focus their vigor on cultivating seeds, never thinking to change the planting methods or unlock the land’s potential.”

“Viscount Randell, you have done very well!” The Pope nodded in praise, fully affirming the achievements of the New Agro-husbandry and the water project.

Victor was secretly overjoyed. Ever since the Pope arrived in the Centaur Hills, he had been waiting for Clement’s summons. On the morning after the Randell Fief’s Carnival concluded, the Pope finally granted him an audience. The location was the farmland outside the town, not the Church in Laketon. But that was irrelevant. Given Clement’s status, an informal setting allowed for a more relaxed exchange.

The Wellington family had cultivated the Spiked Kidney Bean, and the Church had rewarded them with a divine art ring that slowed aging. The Randell family had not only planted Spiked Kidney Beans but also produced two great achievements: the new agro-husbandry and the water project. By any measure, their contribution far surpassed that of the Wellington family. That was why the Pope had chosen an informal meeting—it was to allow him to bargain first before determining the Church’s reward for the House of Randell.

Victor needed too many things: money, divine art items, the Church’s secret martial arts, lenient policies, a cathedral to enhance his family’s status, or more clergy, and so on. Of course, Victor knew he couldn’t get everything. He had already prepared a priority list and was ready to fight for each item.

“This is the favor and guidance of the Supreme Lord,” Victor said with humility and respect. A lord had to maintain the proper posture.

“Our Lord has always favored us,” Clement said with a faint smile. “In the early days when Gambis was pioneering the Centaur Hills, farmers cut down the Purple Cane forest and tilled the soil. The first year, they had a bumper wheat harvest, and everyone thought it was due to the fertile land. So they accelerated the clearing of the Purple Cane forest. By the fourth year, the wheat yields had returned to their original state. Only you were able to summarize the method of deep plowing and careful cultivation, and then perfect the new agropastoral system with Edwen… I am very curious, how did you perceive the Supreme Lord’s guidance to connect the Purple Cane forest with the method of cultivating wheat?”

Victor touched his brow and said with a sheepish grin, “I was too poor back then. I wished I could grow a mu of wheat from a single seed, so I was willing to try any method. After trying enough of them, I discovered the method of deep plowing and careful cultivation. The Purple Cane wine, ground-potatoes, Lizard-skin wheels, raw sugar, and coffee—these were actually the discoveries of my farmers. They have all become my vassals now.”

“To come here and pioneer a fief with no retainers, just a few recruited mercenaries and farmers as followers, and still achieve what you have today… Victor, you are indeed deeply favored by our Lord,” Clement said, shaking his head with a smile.

Victor was taken aback for a moment, then said with shame, “Thinking back on it now, I was indeed reckless. Fortunately, Sylvia dispatched the secret knights to protect me. But I will never again let my life and death rest in the hands of others.”

Clement nodded and said gravely, “Lord, Father, and folk form a trinity. Any fief where the Church has no presence is considered the wilderness, where even a Knight would struggle to ensure their safety. You should have some understanding of the reasons why.”

The law of the jungle prevailed in lawless lands, where anything could happen. The Church had always played the role of a supervisor, and its armed forces were the cornerstone of the noble Order. If a lord were to be murdered, the Church could certainly investigate and find the culprit if it chose to. It was precisely because of the Church’s existence that even a King could not do as he pleased. Therefore, a cathedral was a symbol of a fief’s stability, and it was especially significant for a newly established noble house.

Victor seized the opportunity. “Your Holiness, the Randell Fief needs a cathedral.”

Clement remained noncommittal, changing the subject. “The Church is committed to population growth, but now that the day has come, I find that we are not prepared at all.” He paused, then explained further, “When I say we are not prepared, I mean that the lords and priests have not considered the problems that population growth will bring.”

“The Randell Fief has performed excellently in absorbing refugees,” the Pope said, his tone gentle, his eyes profound. “Victor, I would like to hear your views on population growth.”

Victor thought for a moment before saying cautiously, “Your Holiness, your question is a bit too general.”

Clement sighed inwardly. The Randell Fief’s Military Parade and Carnival had both shown that this young lord was preparing to close his gates to refugees and focus on cultivating the next generation of subjects, and he already had the support of his people. Although this approach was entirely in the interest of the Randell Fief, he hoped for the rapid expansion of the Centaur Hills and the Kingdom of Naville’s strength, to gain a significant advantage in the Great Pioneering. Only then could he ensure that the Benedictine faction’s priests maintained control over the reform of church affairs.

Sylvia and the King of Naville held great authority over their respective vassals. They could override dissenting voices and cooperate with the Benedictine faction’s reform plans. Victor could influence Sylvia’s decisions, and the success of the Centaur Hills would stimulate the lords of Naville. It could be said that Victor was a very critical figure in Clement’s entire scheme.

Clement strolled forward along the path between the fields, with Victor half a shoulder’s length behind him. After a moment, Clement spoke, “Once the new agropastoral systems mature in various places, the first thing the lords will do is expel the refugees. And you have already done so.”

Victor’s mind raced, and he immediately grasped the root of the problem.

When a laborer’s family finds stability and their income increases, their first thought is to have more children. They don’t want outsiders competing with their offspring. By the same token, when subjects’ families become prosperous, they too want to secure more living space for their children and grandchildren. For a lord, cultivating their own subjects was certainly better than absorbing refugees. When all classes in the fief reached a consensus, refugees became the target of expulsion. In fifteen years at most, a great migration of refugees would be inevitable.

The Pope was troubled by the coming tide of refugees.

The Leasehold Employment System was highly efficient at converting refugees, which could rapidly strengthen the Randell Fief. But one can only eat as much as one’s stomach can hold; without land, there could be no leasing. In reality, no system could solve the conflict between population and land.

During the late Qing Dynasty in the world of Earth’s Huaxia, a massive armed conflict broke out between local and guest clans in a southern province. In just over a decade, the casualties exceeded one million. While the corruption of the feudal dynasty’s officials and the turbulent times were important factors, the root cause was the competition for survival brought about by population growth.

By continuously absorbing refugees over a long period, the people of the Randell Fief would inevitably form two major groups, old and new, which would be a serious hidden danger. From any perspective, it was safer and more efficient for the House of Randell to cultivate the next generation of subjects than to indiscriminately absorb refugees. In the future, even if the Randell Fief were to accept outsiders, it would pick and choose those with skills, talents, or good looks; it wouldn’t just take anyone.

After careful deliberation, Victor decided to be frank. “Your Holiness, the current population of the Randell Fief and the Phoenix Fief is about eighty-five thousand. I can settle forty thousand more refugees at most. In twenty years, I expect the fief’s total population to reach five hundred thousand. To feed that many people, we will need at least three million mu of-crop rotation fields, which is almost the limit of cultivable land in the Randell Fief. Otherwise, the fief’s wild resources will be destroyed. Most critically, the House of Randell doesn’t have enough stewards and aides. A massive population will crush Laketon’s fragile administrative system.”

“Of course, Your Holiness need not worry about a refugee tide. As long as there is enough food, the refugees will congregate in the major capital cities, working as manual laborers or engaging in transporting and selling goods. This will, in turn, increase the wealth of the great lords. As long as the Church provides some guidance, I don’t think the lords of the major cities will refuse the refugees.”

“Unfortunately, the geographical location of our Randell Fief is not suitable for commerce,” Victor said, shaking his head with a look of regret. In any case, he could not easily change his population policy.

“Why not let the refugees join a mercenary army and pioneer new lands?” Clement suddenly stopped and turned to say, “If I were to equip your mercenary army with battle priests, would you change your mind?”

Victor’s heart leaped at the words. The low combat effectiveness of a mercenary army was an unavoidable problem. The divine arts the Pope had demonstrated at the Military Parade had an immediate effect on a legion’s combat power and morale. If the mercenary legion had a permanent contingent of battle priests to assist them, it truly could be a solution. As for the battle priests’ influence over the mercenary legion, Victor felt that could be set aside for the time being.

Ultimately, the Grand Legion strategy was aimed at the Ant-men. Due to the mutual devouring and soul-binding of the Alchemy Towers, Victor and the mastermind behind the Ant-men were exposed to each other’s view. Their situation was already one of life and death.

Compared to the Ant-man army of hundreds of thousands of apprentice knight-level soldiers, the power of Alchemy Tower No. 7 seemed insignificant.

Victor’s only option at present was to borrow strength, to do his utmost to unite all forces to resist the Ant-man tide’s invasion. The intensity of the war would surely be immense, but as long as he firmly held the three fortresses, for every Silver-rank Ant-man killed, the power of Alchemy Tower No. 7 would grow stronger. As one side waned and the other waxed, only then would Victor have a chance to counter-attack the Ant-man’s nest and seize the Law Crystal. It wouldn’t be too late to consider other matters after Alchemy Tower No. 7 was upgraded.

However, for now, he had to act like a normal lord.

Victor said hesitantly, “Your Holiness, a mercenary army…”

“The refugee mercenary legion will not participate in disputes between lords. This is a principle!” Clement, as if seeing through Victor’s thoughts, added, “And the battle priests will not interfere in the actions of vassal soldiers. This is also a principle.”

Vassal soldiers with land? In other words, he would allow me to convert the elite of the mercenary legion into vassal soldiers, on the condition that I first grant them land… The battle priests would help the mercenary legion pioneer land, and then I would use that land to select elite vassal soldiers… Was the Pope using the refugees as a sacrifice?! Doesn’t the Church protect the refugees’ right to live? Why this attitude? Why is the Pope so eager to pioneer new lands?

The information asymmetry left Victor completely bewildered. He probed, “Your Holiness, what else should I do?”

“Do your best to settle the refugees,” Clement said with a smile. “I know you are short-staffed. Emulating the Silver Spire by opening schools is a good method. I can assign some novice priests to help you. Although they have not yet mastered divine arts, they are more than capable of teaching the refugees to read.”

Seize control of the ideology!

A flash of insight lit up Victor’s mind, but Clement gave him no more time to think, adding calmly, “You can also absorb Sophia’s Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild and have them help you manage the fief. In short, I hope you will become a model for settling refugees.”

Let the secular belong to the secular, and the divine to the divine. Knights from the merchant guild versus novice priests from the Church—was there any question as to who would weaken the lord’s power?

Victor’s pupils contracted. He said slowly, “Your Holiness, settling refugees and recruiting a mercenary legion of refugees both require funds. Sophia’s Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild seems to have run into some trouble.”

Clement mulled it over for a moment, then gave a slight nod. “I will help you, once, within my power.”

Victor bowed. “As you wish, Your Holiness.”

A satisfied smile appeared on Clement’s face. He said in a relaxed tone, “Victor, what kind of reward would you like? You are not allowed to mention money, and the tithe is also non-negotiable.”

Victor asked with a look of apprehension, “Your Holiness, may I make a few requests?”

“Feel free to tell me,” Clement said, looking intrigued.

“Build a Church in Laketon, with Father Miller presiding over it.”

Clement said with a broad smile, “I have no objection, if you pay for it.”

“Uh… I will prove my piety to the Supreme Lord. Also, I hope Lord Tournans can help Narsen perfect his secret martial arts.”

“Granted.”

“Also, I plan to mint some small copper coins that will only circulate within the Randell Fief.”

“Minting coins?” Clement gave Victor a meaningful look and said, “I have three conditions. First, the face of the coin must be inscribed with the symbol of the Radiant Holy Mountain. Second, the exchange rate of the small copper coins must correspond to the weight of a Copper Sol. Third, the Randell Fief’s tithe must be collected in cooperation with the Church.” He was well aware of the currency shortage in the Randell Fief and was not afraid that Victor would refuse.

“No problem,” Victor nodded quickly, then hastily said, “Also…”

Clement laughed heartily. “Haha, little one, there are no more ‘alsos’ from me…”

After laughing for a moment, the Pope said to Victor kindly, “I imagine Sylvia should be waiting eagerly to see you now.”

Chapter 382: Caligula

“Is Sylvia eager to see me? Or is the Pope eager for Sylvia’s statement?”

On the way back to Silver Moon Manor, Victor mulled over Clement’s true intentions.

He had originally thought the Pope would confront or reprimand him over the issues of the refugee workers’ prayers and the survival of the mercenary armies. He never expected Clement to fully support the Grand Legion strategy, and even be more radical about it than he was.

Why had the Church’s attitude toward the refugees taken a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn? Whose will did Clement truly represent? Did he have the support of the Radiant Knights?

Countless questions swirled in his mind, with no immediate answers. But Victor was certain that the Pope was playing a much larger game, one that could perhaps change the political landscape of the human kingdoms and the Church. And both he and Sylvia were crucial players on this chessboard.

Victor remained cautious and alert, but he also felt a thrill of excitement, thinking with no small amount of pride, Shaking up the world order? Heh, I suppose I’m a real player now.

Half an hour later, the party arrived at the manor. The guards pushed open the great gates of refined iron, carved with silver moons, to welcome the lord and his personal guard.

The fierce Swiftbird, Hercules, shook out his shimmering blue feathers and let out a high-pitched cry, carrying his master as he swaggered proudly into Silver Moon Manor. Twenty elite Swiftbird light cavalrymen followed closely behind.

Before long, the two iron oak trees in front of the lord’s mansion came into view. They were at least five hundred years old, their trunks so thick and gnarled that it would take seven people to encircle them. Their dense canopies intertwined, their lush greenery casting a wide patch of shade covering a whole mu of land.

Beneath the shade sat a long cherry-wood table, where Alice was guiding a group of young boys and girls through a morning tea party. It was both entertainment and a lesson in etiquette. The guest of honor was Angelina Blanstedt York, the second daughter of Viscount Fredrick York and Lady Audel.

The little princess of the York family sat with poise and grace in the seat of honor, enjoying the respectful service of the others. The boys and girls acting as attendants were all around ten years old and of noble bloodline. During the military tournament at Centaur Hills, Nicole had personally selected a group of children from fallen noble families to be trained as House of Randell’s Liaison Attendants. Now, this group of young noble attendants also included Marquis Sorim’s two illegitimate children—Brandon and Shirley.

Brandon and Shirley were exceptionally good-looking, far surpassing the other young attendants. Shirley, in particular, was as delicately beautiful as if carved from porcelain, bright and captivating. At only eight years of age, she already possessed a hint of an enchanting, peerless beauty. If one were to judge by her father’s status alone, she was not much inferior to Anna. But an illegitimate daughter could not be compared to a legitimate daughter, and the declining House Sorim was no match for the York family, which was at the zenith of its power. Thus, she had no noble surname and had to stand while serving Angelina.

However, Victor’s gaze was not on Anna or the young noble attendants.

Anna accepted the various pastries Shirley offered her, tasted them lightly with a silver spoon, and then passed them to the little chubster, Beldina, beside her.

In this etiquette lesson, Bel was the only young attendant without a noble bloodline. In fact, she was the true star of the tea party; even Anna was constantly observing her reactions. If the little chubster ate happily, a sweet yet demure smile would appear on Anna’s exquisite, pretty face, as if she were caring for her own most adorable little sister.

The little chubster took a large bite of the pastry from Anna and then tossed the rest to a big fatty.

No, it should be called a mountain of flesh.

A behemoth of a man sat on the grass behind the long table, ceaselessly popping the pastries Beldina threw to him into his mouth, munching away without a pause.

Even sitting on the ground, he was a head taller than Beldina. He had one eye bigger than the other, a garlic-bulb nose, and messy brown hair like a chicken’s nest. His features were ugly but not frightening; instead, he appeared simple-minded and dull, giving the first impression of being harmless.

Victor patted Hercules’s neck. With a soft “gulu,” the Swiftbird obediently lay down on the road. After its master dismounted, the personal guards all leaped from their mounts. Hercules let out a long cry and led the other Swiftbirds toward the distant stables.

Alice saw Victor and rose with a smile. Lifting her skirt, she trotted over and threw herself directly into her husband’s arms, her lovely red lips pressing against his cheek first as she said delightedly, “Darling, you’re back.” Realizing they were surrounded by people, she stuck out her tongue sheepishly.

She wore a traditional noblewoman’s long dress. Her wine-red hair was coiled high, revealing a long, slender neck as smooth as fine cream. Her nose was elegantly straight, her fine brows arched toward her temples, and her emerald eyes overflowed with happy tenderness, adding a moving radiance to her stunningly beautiful face.

The Elina sisters were the most beautiful apprentice knight handmaidens at Rose Manor. Victor hadn’t chosen the beautiful sisters for their looks, but because they came from a humble background. Their family was weak, and their simple history made them easy to control. It was precisely because they were not highly valued that they developed a submissive and frail personality at Rose Manor. Even though they were married to Victor, Sylvia didn’t pay the sisters much mind. If anything were to happen to one of them, Rose Manor would simply select a new personal handmaiden for Victor.

Lilia was a commoner with no noble bloodline, but she had a powerful older brother and a group of loyal former subordinates. Even Sylvia admired her abilities. The Elina sisters, on the other hand, were truly without support in the Randell Fief. Victor always felt a sense of pity for them, and they, in turn, were especially dependent on their husband. After three years together, their bond had gradually deepened, and Elina and Alice’s true personalities had slowly begun to show.

Compared to her older sister’s gentle grace and inner strength beneath a soft exterior, the passionate Alice appeared proud on the outside but was weak and simple-hearted within. She lacked self-confidence and was particularly clingy with Victor. The presence of the noble family’s darling, Angelina, put a great deal of pressure on Alice. Seeing Victor so suddenly was like finding her pillar of support, and her true feelings poured out, making her forget her etiquette.

Victor smiled slightly and wrapped an arm around Alice’s soft, slender waist, stopping her from curtsying. Alice’s heart filled with sweet joy. She tilted her pointed chin up slightly and naturally took her husband’s arm.

Anna, along with her Guardian Knight, Lady Misha, walked up to Victor. She lifted her skirt and curtsied gracefully. “Victor, good morning.”

“Miss, you should use the proper honorific,” the tall and beautiful Misha quietly reminded her young lady to mind her manners, while sneaking a glance at Victor.

Anna pouted, looking quite aggrieved as she eyed Alice’s small hand tucked into Victor’s arm, a hint of envy in her gaze. She, too, wanted to be close to Viscount Randell, not keep a polite distance.

A twelve-year-old noble girl was equivalent to a fourteen or fifteen-year-old on Earth. She was on the cusp of womanhood, at an age of youthful innocence, often unable to distinguish between the boundaries of love and friendship. Apprentice knights who had awakened their Aura on their own developed later than ordinary people, and Anna could still be attracted to male companions her own age. However, there were very few noble sons with whom Anna could interact as an equal. Victor, with his high noble bloodline and youthful appearance, was someone she was naturally drawn to.

However, Victor had absolutely no intention of getting entangled with this little girl.

Anna’s status was unique. Her father, Viscount Fredrick, was Duke York’s younger brother, and her mother, Lady Audel, was the legitimate daughter of the Blanstedt family. According to the traditions of the great nobles, twelve-year-old Anna should have been sent to another great family for fostering as part of a marriage alliance. The Fredricks were unwilling to marry Anna off to a distant foreign country. They wanted to keep their youngest daughter, with her pure bloodline and outstanding talent, in the Centaur Hills to support her legitimate elder brother in the future.

Thus, Lady Audel sent Anna to Silver Moon Manor, entrusting her to Victor’s care, which carried the implication of a potential marriage alliance with the House of Randell. For Viscount and Lady Fredrick, it would be best for Anna to become Viscount Randell’s lover, thereby retaining her inheritance rights in the York family, or to marry a child of Victor and Sophia, forging a blood alliance between the two families.

Victor wasn’t so depraved as to have improper designs on a little girl. He was protecting Anna under pressure mainly to do Viscount and Lady Fredrick a favor, enhancing the House of Randell’s political influence in the Centaur Hills, while also building a connection with the Kingdom of Sus’s local powerhouse, the Blanstedt family, to find potential allies for The Golden Company’s eastward expansion.

Therefore, Anna was currently living as a guest in a separate villa at Silver Moon Manor. When she turned fifteen, Victor would send her back to Viscount Fredrick’s fief.

Victor waved a hand at Lady Misha, indicating that she need not worry about etiquette, then asked gently, “Anna, are you getting used to living at Silver Moon Manor?”

“Silver Moon Manor is beautiful… and the Carnival was wonderful,” Anna said, a pure smile gracing her delicate little face. Her blue eyes darted about before she asked softly, “Victor, can I ride Hercules?”

“Hercules has a proud temperament and only allows Lady Sylvia and me to ride him. He wouldn’t be very friendly to you,” Victor replied, gently refusing.

Anna deliberately put on a disappointed look and said hesitantly, “Then… can you let Beldina be my handmaiden? I’ll treat her well.”

So she’s after Beldina… Although the little foodie was a commoner, if one were to measure noble status by supernatural power, only Sylvia in the entire Kingdom of Gambia could compare to her father.

Victor shook his head with a faint smile. “Of course not! Beldina is not a maid, but a handmaiden of the House of Randell. No lord would strip an attendant of one of their Virtues of Loyalty without reason.”

Anna furrowed her little eyebrows and said, “Can I move into the lord’s mansion, so I can play with Beldina and the others every day?”

“Miss, there are sixty-seven of us. We cannot upstage the host!” Guardian Knight Misha admonished in a low, rather stern voice. For Fredrick’s armed forces to take up residence in the lord’s mansion would be an affront to Viscount Randell’s dignity.

“I’ll live there by myself. The rest of you can stay in the villa,” Anna grumbled, rolling her eyes at Misha.

The female knight was at a loss. It was no major issue for a guest to stay in the lord’s mansion for a few days, but a long-term stay would lead the nobility to assume Anna was Viscount Randell’s lover, which would damage a noble lady’s reputation. The only exceptions would be if she lived there as a ward or a student, and Viscount Randell had yet to make a clear statement about Anna’s status.

Victor pondered for a moment before shaking his head. “Not for now… Wait another half a month. If Sophia is willing to take you on as her student, then you can move into the lord’s mansion.”

Anna’s eyes lit up. She pumped a small fist and said, “I’m so outstanding, Aunt Sophia will definitely be happy to be my Tutor!”

“Let’s hope so,” Victor said with a nod, his gaze shifting to the large man behind the long table. He asked coldly, “Who is that?”

At their master’s harsh tone, the young attendants were all frightened into silence. Alice forced a relaxed tone. “That’s the fool who was badly beaten by Marcy. Father Miller healed him. Since he had nowhere to go, Beldina brought him back to the manor and pleaded with Elina to take him in. My sister took pity on him, and seeing he had some strength, she arranged for him to do some manual labor in the stables.” With that, she gestured. “Ham, come over here and greet the Master.”

The big fool lumbered up from the ground, walked over to Victor, and knelt on both knees, mumbling indistinctly, “Greet Master.”

“You idiot, kneeling on both knees is for surrender. You kneel on one knee to show respect!” Alice chided.

“Ham” scratched his head, knelt on his right knee, and then lifted his left leg into the air like a dog relieving itself. The comical sight sparked a round of laughter. Alice let out a giggle and said, exasperated, “Put it down… never mind, just stand up.”

Victor frowned. “I remember him. He was the merchant Sid’s servant. How did he end up homeless? Also, his name is Boar, why is he ‘Ham’ now?”

Alice leaned close to Victor’s ear and whispered, “Because Lilia took Marcy in as a Guard, and Bel happens to like Boar, Sid’s family abandoned the fool. They were afraid of Marcy’s revenge and also wanted to curry favor with Bel. As for why he’s called ‘Ham’… you should ask Bel.”

“Because he likes to eat ham. Master, can you let Ham stay? He’s very obedient.”

Beldina nuzzled Victor’s side with her little head, tugging on his sleeve. She lifted her apple-red face, her large, pure eyes filled with hope, and melted Victor’s heart.

According to Imosen’s calculations, Bel was almost seventeen this year, but her mind and body were still in the state of a seven or eight-year-old. Time seemed to have stopped for Bel; she hadn’t developed at all during her nearly two years at Silver Moon Manor, and everyone had noticed the problem. Father Miller had cured her muteness but couldn’t cure her physical condition. Victor had even asked Bishop Pello to personally treat Bel, but Pello had regretfully stated that Bel suffered from a rare disease that even divine arts couldn’t cure. The longest-lived patient on record had only made it to twenty-seven.

This conclusion weighed heavily on Victor’s heart and made him dote on the poor little thing even more.

Another freeloader… but I should indulge Bel… Victor sized “Ham” up and down. He saw that the man’s eyes were cloudy, but his expression was naively innocent, like a very curious short-tailed deer. He stood about 2.28 meters tall and weighed around 580 pounds. He was all fat, but his bone structure was surprisingly perfect. His movements were coordinated, and he had a strong sense of balance, giving an impression of agility rather than clumsy obesity.

An idea flashed through Victor’s mind. He activated his Super Sense and Overlimit to observe his Elemental Attributes.

Physique 13, Spirit 17, Perception 6, Life 13… A Spirit attribute of 17!? What was going on?

Victor was astonished. An ordinary person’s elemental concentrations generally didn’t exceed ten points. Given Boar’s massive size, it was reasonable for his earth and water elements to be higher than normal, but the Spirit attribute, which represented Soul Fire, was a different story.

A Knight who had just stepped into the Silver realm, whose body had been transformed by the void element, would only have a Spirit attribute of fifteen. How could a simpleton’s Soul Fire be stronger than a Silver Knight’s? Have I found a hidden gem?

Victor grew secretly excited, his mind racing with ideas on how to train a confidant bodyguard. But then, a beautiful silhouette in the window of the fourth-floor meeting room caught the corner of his eye.

Sylvia, dressed in a white gossamer gown, leaned against the windowsill, which was covered in green ivy. Her jade-like hand cupped her chin, her golden hair cascaded over her shoulders like sunlight, and a faint smile played on her red lips. She was serene and beautiful, like a figure in an oil painting.

Victor waved at Sylvia, then turned his head. “Alice, I’m going to see Lady Sylvia. I wish you all a pleasant tea party.” He took a few steps, then turned back to Boar and said, “Oh, right. The name Ham is too ugly. From now on, you’ll be called Aka.”

“Full name, Caligula Randall.”

Chapter 383: The Privy Council Meeting

Victor ascended to the fourth floor of the lord’s residence, where Nicole, dressed in a yellow, waist-cinching dress, stood charmingly by the door to the meeting room.

“My love, come in, quickly.” She smiled and took her beloved’s arm, pushing open the great Iron-oak door. “My Lady was about to send someone to find you, and here you are.”

Inside the meeting room, the lords of the York family, great and small, and the nine Silver Knights were all gathered. Dozens of pairs of eyes turned in unison to look at Victor as he walked in. Sylvia, seated in the main chair, turned and gave Victor a radiant smile, saying softly, “My love, please, sit beside me.”

The meeting room on the fourth floor of Silver Moon Manor was different from a traditional great hall.

A great hall was more like a classroom. The great lord sat high on his throne, with the lady of the manor to his right and the family’s first heir to his left. Opposite the throne were rows of three-person tables, representing the seats for vassal lords, their wives, and their heirs.

This room, however, was modeled after a modern conference room. In the center was a long, elliptical table made of assembled redwood panels, large enough to seat forty people, with a ring of leather armchairs around its perimeter. Such a layout was more intimate and informal, but it failed to project the authority of the family leader. For violating etiquette, it could not be considered a formal setting.

However, Victor did not want to see Duke York and Sylvia sitting together; it made him feel very awkward. Of course, Enbise York was equally unwilling to be near Sylvia. A Spirit Knight’s disdain was always clearly expressed through spiritual pressure, a signal that broadcasted, “Stay away from me.” It was difficult for mortals to resist such intangible pressure; the moment Enbise got close to Sylvia, he would break out in a cold sweat, as if sitting on pins and needles.

Victor sat down beside Sylvia and saw Enbise and Katerina on the opposite side of the long conference table. Those around them acted as if this was perfectly normal, as if he, Victor, were the Duke of the York family. Victor couldn’t help but find it both absurd and amusing. Upon closer observation, he discovered that there was something peculiar about the seating arrangement.

To Duke York’s and Lady Katerina’s left and right were the Great Knight Bruce and Viscount Raven, Trisley’s brother, followed by four vassal lords of the baron rank. They all had one thing in common—they were all newly invested vassal lords who relied heavily on the Duke’s support, making them Enbise’s core faction.

Next to them were the Great Knights Viscount Jiris and Viscount Metello. Their fiefs protected the Duke’s personal domain, and the two took turns garrisoning the Central Fortress, maintaining a close relationship with Enbise.

Then there were Viscount Harnas and Viscount Walter. These two Great Knights had once served the two earls of the three eastern provinces. After their respective liege lords were hanged for treason by Neowist, they accepted Sylvia’s recruitment, swore fealty, and became vassal lords of the York family. Their seats were situated exactly in the middle of the conference table.

Further down, Viscount Fredrick, Lady Audel, Earl Teldrane, and Lady Ulyana, four Great Knights, sat opposite one another. As Duke York’s younger brother and paternal cousins, their strength, bloodline, and claims to succession were all sufficient to challenge the positions of Enbise and Katerina.

At the very end were the members of Rose Manor’s think tank, Nicole, Trisley the guardian knight, Victor, and Sylvia.

If viewed from the opposite perspective, the seats of Enbise and Katerina were the primary ones, and everyone else was arranged according to their degree of closeness to them. But viewed from this end, Rose Manor had arranged the seating according to the vassal lords’ power.

Victor thought it over carefully and realized that Sylvia had revoked Enbise’s right to freely enter and exit Rose Manor only after Katerina had advanced to Great Knight. In other words, with or without Victor’s existence, Sylvia had intended for Katerina to act in the capacity of the Duchess, allowing Rose Manor to transcend the limitations of a duchess’s residence and become the highest organ of power in the York family.

When Enbise was weak, Sylvia had to support him. But after Bruce and Katerina both stepped into the Silver realm, Enbise’s faction was fully fledged, and she shed the role of Duchess to exercise her authority as the family’s protector.

The pressure a Spirit Knight exerted on vassal lords was too great. Only by acting as an objective and impartial protector could Sylvia establish her own authority and ensure the unity and stability of the York family.

In reality, Sylvia was now the Queen of the Centaur Hills. Trisley and Nicole were the Chiefs of the Queen’s Personal Guard, Victor was the Chief Steward, Enbise was the heir to the throne, and everyone else was the Queen’s lords.

This was a Privy Council Meeting of the Queen of Roses!

Victor propped his chin on his hand, staring at Sylvia’s perfect profile, and thought to himself: Did I sleep with a queen right after I transmigrated, or was I taken to bed by a queen right after I arrived?

Sylvia’s mind was sharp and her thoughts nimble; she knew exactly what her intimate lover was thinking. She secretly ground her high heel hard onto the top of Victor’s foot, and with a raised eyebrow, she said, “My love, what did His Holiness the Pope discuss with you?” Her half-smile seemed to say, Just you wait, I’ll deal with you later.

Victor pursed his lips and recounted his conversation with Clement in full detail.

“The Pope supports my mercenary legion. He explicitly stated three conditions. First, I am to settle as many refugees as possible. Second, the mercenary legion and the clergy are not to participate in wars between lords. Third, the stewards, aides, and military officers of Randell Fief must undergo novice priest training at the school,” he summarized.

Sylvia pondered for a moment before asking, “From the perspective of House of Randell, what are your thoughts on the Pope’s proposal?”

Victor mused, “I have two options. I can continue to accept refugees and expand the mercenary legion. Or, I can accept refugees on a limited basis, focus on integrating the existing refugee families into the populace of Randell Fief, and concentrate on training the next generation of soldiers. I lean towards the second option.”

“First, absorbing a large number of refugees would challenge the administrative system of Randell Fief and increase the cost of settlement. Second, the training period for mercenary soldiers recruited from refugees is too short, making both their combat effectiveness and loyalty difficult to guarantee. They are also especially vulnerable to infiltration. Finally, the mercenary soldiers anre not strong enough, so their casualties will surely be high. If too many of them die, my position will become very precarious, and I might even face sanctions from the Church.”

“The Pope has solved most of my problems. He is arranging for novice priests to open schools, helping me integrate the refugees and train soldiers and aides. And with battle priests fighting alongside the mercenaries, the soldiers’ combat effectiveness, courage, and survivability will be improved to a certain extent. With battle priests involved, the Church has no reason to hold me accountable. In other words, the sacrifice of mercenaries in the pioneer war would be reasonable and legitimate.”

“Most importantly, I have no choice.” Victor shrugged and spread his hands. “If I refuse the Pope’s proposal, it means the Church reserves the right to hold me accountable. With just a little incitement from a Father, I would have no choice but to disband the mercenary legion. But I have too few vassal soldiers. Without the mercenaries, what will I use to defend the Southern Fortress? Not to mention pioneering the Southern Continent.” He tilted his head. “My love, I can only agree to His Holiness’s conditions.”

Sylvia nodded slightly and then asked, “Then do you understand Clement’s intentions?”

“They’re hard to fathom…” Victor shook his head. “I imagine you must have the answer here.”

Sylvia nodded. “I’ve received news that Saen, from the southern diocese of the kingdom, will succeed Lazarus as the Cardinal of Gambis. Saen is a trusted subordinate of Patriarch Tamor, and Tamor once vied with Clement for the papal throne.”

“The internal relationships within the Church are intricate. The three chief patriarchs of the Curia are Clement, Tamor, and Frieders. Frieders, backed by the Radiant Knights, controls church affairs in the Sasan Empire and the Warton Great Plains. The Cardinals of the Dodor Kingdom and the Kingdom of Sus are both confidants of Tamor. Naville, Gambis, and the Kingdom of Borea fall within Clement’s sphere of influence.” Sylvia paused. “Now, church affairs in Gambis are about to fall into Tamor’s hands. Does that spark any associations for you?”

Victor frowned and murmured, “Pello was also a popular candidate for Cardinal of Gambis. By serving as the Bishop of the Centaur Hills, he lost his chance to don the red robes… Why would Clement have his disciple give up the great diocese of Gambis?”

Sylvia chuckled, her azure eyes shining with a wise light. “The next twenty years will be a period for lords to promote the New Agro-husbandry, accumulate strength, and consolidate their power internally and externally. Clement’s judgment is not wrong. Once the New Agro-husbandry succeeds, lords and their vassals will expel the refugee workers to make living space for their own subject families.”

“The Sasan Empire has been constantly defending against the beastmen from the Northern Wildlands. The Radiant Knights bear the responsibility of eliminating the beastman threat and reclaiming humanity’s ancestral lands. They use the migration of refugees to consolidate power within the Empire, and no one can criticize them for it. If I’m not mistaken, Frieders will toss the Great Plains diocese to Clement, so that he can take over the burden of settling the refugees.”

“As the current Pope, Clement has an undeniable duty to settle the refugees. The question is, how should they be settled?”

“The Centaur Hills has land. The Kingdom of Naville is building a super-massive water project that requires a large number of laborers and also has the potential for land development. However, settling a large number of refugees is not in our best interest.”

“We need loyal subjects and brave soldiers. Twenty years is enough time for our own people to multiply and grow stronger. Why should we accept weak refugees?” Sylvia glanced around the room and said coolly, “Almost every lord thinks this way. But Clement clearly has a different view.”

“Whoever pioneers, possesses. If we follow the traditional method of pioneering, we cannot compete with the August family, and Naville cannot compete with the Sasan Empire. But Victor’s mercenary legion may be our opportunity to rise during the pioneering.”

“By the same token, if the Sasan Empire takes the lead in pioneering, the Radiant Knights can rally more clergy. Frieders’s prestige will soar, and he will surely represent the Radiant Knights to retake control of the Curia and become the new Pope. But if the Kingdom of Naville and the Centaur Hills use mercenary legions to seize the initiative in pioneering, the Church’s resources will shift towards Clement. This is also his only chance to turn defeat into victory.”

“Settling the refugees is the bigger picture, and pioneering new territory is the grand tide of affairs. Both the bigger picture and the grand tide are on Clement’s side. Even the Radiant Knights must bow to the Curia.”

“Our original strategy was to expand the Fanged Legion, form a pioneer militia corps, and recruit refugees to serve as supply troops. The Fanged Legion would be the main combat force, the pioneer militia the main defensive force, and the refugee supply troops would handle logistics like transport, building fortifications, and developing farmland. Now, Clement has given us a second option: train mercenary legions from the refugees and have these mercenary soldiers participate in combat missions.”

Sylvia stood up, her eyes blazing as she said, “Everyone, this is a major strategic decision. I need to hear a full range of opinions!”

Everyone was lost in thought. No one spoke. After a moment, Viscount Fredrick was the first to break the silence in the meeting room.

“Since the Pope’s interests align with ours, we can abandon the conservative supply-troop strategy and fully implement Viscount Randell’s Grand Legion Strategy.” He smiled at Victor and continued, “Everyone saw the Military Parade at Laketon. The mercenary soldiers were disciplined and their morale was high. Although their combat strength is a bit weak, the Heroism Art performed by His Holiness the Pope compensated for that deficiency. That is an army capable of real combat. Please note two points: the mercenary legion has only been established for two and a half years, so they still have a great deal of room for improvement. Second, the mercenary legion is numerous, over two thousand strong, which is almost half the strength of the Fanged Legion, and it can be expanded further!”

“The beastman monsters do not accept surrender; the pioneer war will be exceptionally cruel. For us, every single vassal soldier of the family is precious. If we have the refugee mercenary legion as support, the number of casualties among our vassal soldiers will be greatly reduced. Real combat is the best way to train elite soldiers. The Pope encourages us to use land for the investiture of elite mercenary soldiers. This means the pioneer war will not drain the family’s vitality. We will grow stronger the more we fight!”

Viscount Fredrick slammed his hand on the table, instantly igniting the enthusiasm of the attendees. They began to whisper amongst themselves, a buzz of discussion filling the room.

The Great Knight Lady Ulyana gracefully swept a lock of hair that had fallen across her chest back over her shoulder and parted her red lips to speak. “My uncle, Baron Cardia, was fostered in the Asya family of the Kingdom of Borea from a young age. He once participated in the pioneer war at Vanguard Fortress. My uncle Cardia believes that the reason the Kingdom of Borea failed to pioneer the Southern Continent was that they committed too few troops and craftsmen.”

“The Boreans made ample preparations before pioneering the Southern Continent. Their scouts discovered a fertile lake region. They then mobilized an army of seventy thousand, which was nearly the limit of the Kingdom of Borea’s mobilization capacity; any more would have brought production on the Seven Great Islands to a halt. The Boreans launched a surprise attack on the barbarian settlements near the lake. The barbarians suffered heavy casualties and fled in all directions. The Boreans captured the land in one fell swoop and began to build Vanguard Fortress, clearing out the small, scattered barbarian tribes in the vicinity without ever encountering a powerful opponent. As Vanguard Fortress gradually took shape, and just as the Borean army was concentrating its forces on building a dock on the South Shore, one hundred thousand barbarians swarmed them. They cut off the connection between the South Shore dock and Vanguard Fortress. The main Borean force had no choice but to retreat by ship, leaving six thousand elites stationed in Vanguard Fortress to be surrounded by the barbarians, an isolated army. They held out for a year and a half before being rescued by the allied forces of the Church. Fewer than three thousand survived, and the total casualties for the Kingdom of Borea exceeded thirty thousand.”

“This proves that the barbarians of the Southern Continent possess remarkable intelligence and powerful individual strength. They used the pressure of an external enemy to first consolidate their large and small tribes, temporarily avoiding engagement with the human army. They waited until the humans had built their fortress, stockpiled supplies, and perfected their production facilities before launching a fierce assault. They drove the main human force back into the river, turned the tide of the war, and then besieged Vanguard Fortress to seize the Boreans’ supplies and production facilities.”

“If the Boreans had mobilized one hundred and fifty thousand troops and built two fortresses that could support each other, they might have established a firm foothold on the Southern Continent. Now, relying on Vanguard Fortress and its production facilities, the barbarians have formed a powerful Barbarian Kingdom with a population exceeding one million, directly threatening the security of Borea’s Seven Great Islands.”

“Therefore, when we face an enemy of another race, we must bring to bear a decisive force. We absolutely cannot give them any chance to catch their breath!”

“We need to implement the Grand Legion Strategy.”

Victor rose from his seat and bowed with a hand on his chest. “My apologies, Countess Teldrane, please allow me to interrupt you. I have a question I would like to ask.”

Ulyana’s eyes flashed as she looked at Victor with great interest, letting out a charming laugh. “Your Excellency Randell, please, do ask.”

Nicole turned her head and, with her back to Ulyana, rolled her eyes. Any high-ranking female knight who tried to pursue Victor was a rival in love. Trisley glared exasperatedly at Nicole, then at Victor. Nicole’s jealousy made her, as her tutor, feel ashamed. But her beloved student’s descent into such envy, while influenced by the Elemental Sea, was ultimately Victor’s fault.

Victor ignored the couple’s anger and the sour scent of jealousy, asking politely, “The barbarians once intermarried with humans. Did the Boreans ever have a dialogue with the southern barbarians?”

Ulyana gave a faint smile. “The barbarians may have once intermarried with humans, but they also have irreconcilable blood feuds. Besides, we are going to seize the lands of the Southern Continent…” As she spoke, her slender eyebrows knitted together, a thoughtful expression on her face.

Sylvia looked at Victor in surprise. “Are you worried the Boreans will tip off the Barbarian Kingdom and sabotage us?”

If they could intermarry, they could communicate, and communication meant anything was possible. Facing a powerful Barbarian Kingdom, the Boreans’ plan to pioneer the Southern Continent was thwarted. They could very well spread news of Gambis’s southward advance to divide the Barbarian Kingdom’s strength, so that they too could achieve their landing plan.

Ulyana nodded. “That is a possibility. The Boreans would only need to capture a few barbarian prisoners…”

Viscount Harnas grinned, a grim look in his eyes. “Then we will need even more overwhelming strength!”

Sylvia stared deeply at Victor and said softly, “What are your thoughts?”

Victor leaned back in his chair and let out a breath. “If we implement the Grand Legion Strategy, our pioneering of the Southern Continent will absolutely not fail!”

“The reason is simple. We are on the strategic offensive, while the southern natives are on the strategic defensive. The contest is one of attrition. Our territory is intact, and our supply of mercenary soldiers and war materials is endless, while the southern natives will continuously bleed. We can cross the river whenever we want and fight however we want—raid their hunting grounds today, destroy their gathering places tomorrow. The native races can’t cross the river. They can only take a beating, not strike back. How can they win?” He paused, then shook his head. “I am not worried about the pioneer war on the Southern Continent… The Ant-men are our greatest worry. Those monsters are also in a state of strategic offense. Although we have high fortress walls and sheer cliffs, if two hundred thousand Ant-men attack at once, the Centaur Hills will have to maintain a permanent garrison of at least fifteen thousand troops… This was my original reason for proposing the Grand Legion Strategy.”

“A two-front war!” Earl Teldrane laughed heartily, chiming in, “It seems recruiting refugees and forming mercenary legions is imperative!”

The lords and scholars began to discuss again, this time with more people nodding in agreement.

Katerina stood up, her gaze sweeping across the room, her voice light and pleasant. “If the Grand Legion has so many benefits, why haven’t other lords thought of it? Why is Her Highness Sylvia hesitant?”

“In fact, the Grand Legion was not Viscount Randell’s original idea. Does everyone remember the Black Emperor Galdemere?”

As soon as she said this, the entire hall fell silent. The atmosphere nearly froze solid.

Chapter 384: The Age of Nobles

Black Emperor Galdemere had never been a taboo subject. His legendary tale seemed to exist only to highlight the sanctity and greatness of the Radiant Church.

Some nine thousand years ago, the first Pope Inoc cooperated with the City-state Knights to overthrow the tyranny of the Chosen. They established the Radiant Code, ushering in an era where the Knight-Nobles and the Church’s clergy ruled together.

At that time, the elves had retreated to distant lands and the Barbarians were extinct. Humanity alone occupied the territories of these two races, their domain not shrinking but expanding. After several centuries of peace and recovery, the human population surpassed its peak during the Era of the Chosen. But the good times did not last. The beastmen tribes from the northernmost lands began to migrate south. They constantly harassed and encroached upon human territory, their numbers gradually swelling until they had conquered several of the northernmost human City-states.

Facing the beastmen threat, the Knight families of the northern City-states formed the first alliance in human history to jointly resist the escalating monster tide. This alliance was the prototype of an empire, its main characteristic being the training of citizen-soldiers to form massive mortal armies.

Several more centuries passed. Goblin King Omi enslaved fourteen giant white ape beasts and led the beastmen tribes in a great southern invasion. The leader of the Northern Alliance, the Legendary Knight Galdemere, gathered an army of eight hundred thousand men and, ignoring the Church’s counsel, engaged the beastmen in a pitched battle on the Plains of Grief. The result was a devastating blow to the Northern Alliance: nine Legendary Knights and twenty-three Gold Knights fell, and five hundred and thirty thousand soldiers died on the battlefield.

Fortunately, the reigning Pope Belto arrived in time with the Radiant Knights and the Temple Army. His Holiness Belto sounded the Golden Horn, summoning a Radiant Angel to slay the giant white ape beasts and Goblin King Omi. The clergy fought valiantly, annihilating the beastman army and saving countless lives.

This glorious victory completely shattered the newly established Goblin kingdom and pushed the Radiant Church’s prestige to its zenith. Pope Belto executed Galdemere on charges of brutality and, over the corpses of the Black Emperor and the Goblin King, inaugurated the first year of the Radiant Calendar.

The history written by the Church has many incredible aspects. For instance, why was Galdemere so insistent on a pitched battle with the beastman army on the Plains of Grief? Why didn’t the alliance army and the clergy’s forces rendezvous beforehand? Why did Pope Belto wait until both the alliance and the Goblin kingdom had mauled each other before entering the fray?

Seven thousand five hundred and seventy years have passed. The conspiracies and betrayals of that time are now less substantial than a loaf of bread. No one would cry injustice for Galdemere’s fate, but the historical impact of the Black Emperor incident cannot be ignored.

After the Black Emperor’s death, the Church openly turned its blade on the Knight-Nobles. The victims were almost always charged with crimes related to persecuting the common people. To escape the beastmen threat, the citizens of the City-states fled their homes under the protection of the clergy, becoming refugees. From then on, no Knight-Noble dared to conscript refugees into their armies. The Grand Legions vanished as quickly as they had appeared.

Now, the Centaur Hills intends to resurrect the Grand Legions. Does this not touch upon the Church’s bottom line?

Although the Grand Legions are disguised as a mercenary army, and although they have Pope Clement’s full support, there is a bloody precedent, and the Pope has political enemies. Even if the Grand Legion’s expansion strategy achieves outstanding results, will other envious powers incite the Church to punish the York family? Will Clement’s rivals seize this opportunity to make an issue of it and vie for the papal throne? If Clement cannot even protect himself, then who will bear the blame?

Sylvia? The first Pope Inoc himself publicly promised that the Church would never actively provoke the dignity of a Spirit Knight.

Victor? The worst that could happen is him marrying into a Paladin family. The Radiant Knights would never let him take the blame.

The fair and chubby Duke York gripped the edge of the table, his small eyes glaring fiercely at every vassal lord who supported the Grand Legions. Viscount Fredrick and Earl Teldrane unnaturally averted their gazes.

Sylvia held a firm grip on the ultimate power within the York family. Besides her personal prestige, she controlled three major institutions: Rose Manor, The Rose Knights, and the Fanged Legion.

Rose Manor not only had its secret knights but also influenced the domestic lives of the nobles and vassals. The heir of every vassal family had to undergo attendant training under Sylvia, and the noble children of the York family considered it an honor to become a Rose Attendant. Nicole, Lilia, and Elina were all from Rose Manor, having started as handmaidens. They became Victor’s companions and trained household maids according to the methods of Rose Manor. These household maids, in turn, married the vassals of the lords.

The Rose Knights comprised the high-ranked Knights of the York family and lords of all stations. They swore fealty to Sylvia and obeyed the commander’s orders.

The Fanged Legion was the armed force affiliated with The Rose Knights, composed of soldiers from the vassals. Its tendrils extended into the army of every single vassal lord. Once the Duke issued a Call to Arms, the vassal lords’ regular armies were directly incorporated into the Fanged Legion. It could be said that aside from their personal guards, the vassal lords severely lacked an independent, fundamental armed force.

The Randall family’s development of a mercenary legion and their Military Parade had made the vassal lords’ eyes red with envy.

However, Sylvia had already transferred command of the Fanged Legion to Katerina. The vassal lords recruiting mercenaries would, in fact, weaken Katerina’s influence, yet Enbise York would have to bear the primary responsibility. What was this all about?

According to the New Covenant of Light, the Church could not execute a noble, only strip them of their title and sentence them to imprisonment or exile. If Enbise were stripped of his ducal title by the Church, everyone would have to suspect the motives of Fredrick and Teldrane in supporting the Grand Legion Strategy, as both of them had a claim to the family succession.

Regardless, Enbise York was the nominal liege lord of the York family. He represented the Order of the noble class and could not be treated lightly!

Since Katerina had mentioned the Black Emperor, the vassal lords no longer had any grounds to state their positions. But this did not include Sylvia’s scholar-advisor.

“Your esteemed Lord Duke and My Lady Katerina, I would like to talk to everyone about the history of the Black Emperor and Pope Belto.” A short, white-haired, and white-bearded old man rose shakily and bowed.

Katerina quickly said, “Master James, please, speak from your seat.”

James was not a master scholar from the Silver Spire. He was an Inheritor of Heraldry cultivated by the York family, specifically responsible for collecting, organizing, recording, and studying the secret histories of the great families and the Church to provide references for the family leader’s decisions. The York family’s decision to abandon their traditional territory and migrate west to the Centaur Hills was made only after Sylvia had consulted James.

It was precisely because the Inheritors of Heraldry had such unparalleled influence over the family leaders that they could not have the slightest selfish motive. The great families would secretly adopt infants to be Inheritors of Heraldry, feeding them drugs that rendered them sterile. They would arrange partners of the opposite sex for them, but they had no blood relatives, only students; no home, only the family.

In a sense, the Inheritors of Heraldry fell into the category of a family’s death commandos.

James was such a death commando; his opinions were absolutely objective.

“I believe Belto executed the Black Emperor not because he sacrificed several hundred thousand soldiers, but because of an imbalance.” James’s old voice echoed in the room, and everyone listened in silence.

“Before the first year of the Radiant Calendar, the knight’s bloodline was pure. Nearly every City-state family had a Legendary Knight. The number of Gold Knights was not large, but not small either, and the status of a Silver Knight was only equivalent to that of a Knight today. The City-state families were known as the Old Gold Families, and that era can be called the Golden Age.”

“The death of the Black Emperor marked the end of the Golden Age and the beginning of the Silver Age. With the advent of the vassalage system, the Silver Age gave way to the current Bronze Age.”

“Following the course of history, we can see that the Church has been continually weakening the power of the Knights. The Knights declined from the Golden Age before the Radiant Calendar, to the Silver Age before the vassalage system, and finally to the Bronze Age, where ordinary Knights are the mainstream.”

“The instigator of all this was the first Pope Inoc!”

James coughed a few times. Trisley personally offered him a cup of clear water. He took the cup, moistened his throat, and continued, “In the Era of the Chosen, Wizards lorded over the Knights. When the Radiant Church overthrew the rule of the Wizards, would the Knights still be willing to have someone lording over them? Of course, Pope Inoc also wanted to lord over the Knights. However, the Knights were extremely powerful at the time. High-ranked Knights were everywhere, and they controlled many mortal armies from the war against the Wizards. The Church’s clergy had no confidence at all in defeating a coalition of Knights. If the first Pope had acted personally, a Spirit Knight would have surely taken his life, and the Church would have been finished.”

“The proud Knights had no problem submitting to Inoc, but to have them bow their heads to the mud-leg clergy? That was absolutely impossible.”

“Inoc could only compromise, allowing the Knights and clergy to be equals. But he was well aware of the conflict between the Knights of the Golden Age and the clergy—the high-ranked Knights did not believe in the Lord of Radiance. In the future, the Knight families would certainly want to suppress the clergy and become the supreme rulers of humanity.”

“So, Inoc set a trap in the Radiant Code, secretly granting the clergy the maximum possible authority to enforce the law…” The old scholar paused, then smiled at Victor. “Viscount Randall, is there something you wish to ask?”

Victor was startled but smoothed his brow and said respectfully, “Master, I was just wondering why the Knights fell for Inoc’s trap.”

James nodded. “The specific details are hard to verify, but I imagine there was no shortage of wise men among the Knights. However, they were a disorganized lot, each with their own plans. Most importantly, the Golden Generation was confident and arrogant. If even the mighty Inoc couldn’t handle them, what could those mud-leg clergy do? After the first Pope died, if the Church dared to enforce the law against the Knights, the Golden Generation would simply get rid of them!”

Sylvia let out a light laugh and interjected, “The Radiant Code clearly states: the clergy may not establish a secular regime. That was the basis for the Golden Generation’s compromise with Inoc. I admire that a great deal… Master James, please continue.” She nodded at the old scholar.

“In short, the imbalance of power between the two sides sowed the seeds of disaster for the relationship between the Golden Generation and the clergy. So, the Church granted the City-states to the Knight families to rule, achieving the goal of dividing the Knights’ coalition. On the other side, the clergy worked hard to restore the population of the City-states, spread their faith, and secretly build up their strength,” James said unhurriedly, stroking his beard.

“In the first year of the Radiant Calendar, the Church’s power reached its peak. The time was ripe for a showdown with the Golden Generation. The Knight families had not been idle, either. With the Chosen having exited the stage of history, the City-states lost the protection of the Wizards. Facing the beastmen invasion, the Golden Generation had to fight to the end. Through marriage alliances, they formed a league of City-states, trained massive mortal armies, and gradually formed the prototype of an empire and its Grand Legions. War was the catalyst for an imperial regime, and high-yield green wheat was its economic foundation.”

James suddenly asked, “Your Excellency Randall, your Grand Legion Strategy is a battle of attrition. Do you think that with humanity’s strength at the time, they could have defeated the beastmen of the northernmost lands?”

“At the very least, they wouldn’t have lost!” Victor shook his head and said seriously.

Goblins may have been the protagonists of an era; to completely exterminate them was almost impossible. Victor even suspected that the alliance between the Chosen, the elves, and the Barbarians was formed to squeeze the Goblins’ living space, to deny them any chance of resurgence.

“Well said!” James nodded. “Black Emperor Galdemere was able to summon an army of several hundred thousand mortals. Even without the Church’s help, he could have continuously conscripted troops to fight off the beastmen invaders.”

“If Pope Belto hadn’t taken measures, Galdemere’s charisma, the threat of an external enemy, and one victory after another would have spurred the rapid establishment of the Golden Generation’s great empire. At that point, the Church’s clergy would have inevitably become vassals to the Knights…”

“But the Golden Generation had absolutely no faith in the Lord of Radiance!”

“The conflict between the two sides was already irreconcilable. Pope Belto had no choice. He watched as the Black Emperor was severely weakened, then seized the opportunity to annihilate the remaining beastmen. He executed the Black Emperor under the pretext of abandoning his duty to protect, and called upon the mortals to flee the danger, turning the City-state citizens into refugees. In reality, Belto destroyed the political and economic foundations of the Golden Empire!”

James took a sip from his cup, furrowed his sparse eyebrows, and muttered, “Could I have a cup of coffee to wake me up?”

“Please wait a moment.”

Trisley, as lovely as a young maiden, rose and went to the back of the room. She lit a small stove and began to brew coffee. She had brought all the equipment, water, milk, and coffee with her.

While the coffee was brewing, James continued, “Belto assumed the Church’s strength was sufficient to deal with the beastmen, but he was not a figure from the Era of the Chosen and had no idea how terrifying the beastmen were. Most fatally, the Church had no authority to conscript mortal armies… The clergy’s forces suffered heavy losses. Humanity was beaten back again and again, losing vast territories, and the beastmen grew even stronger.”

“Belto should be damned!” Nicole said hatefully.

Sylvia smiled faintly. “From the Church’s standpoint, His Majesty Belto was a great leader.”

“But he was still criticized by his successors…”

Just then, Trisley presented a steaming, aromatic cup of coffee. James took a small sip and said with satisfaction, “Your Excellency Randall, your coffee is truly a great invention.”

“To receive your praise is my honor… You can call me Victor.” Victor paused, then asked, “You just said Pope Belto was criticized by the Church?”

“Not by the Church… but by his successors.” The old man waved his hand. “For the past few centuries, the Popes of the Curia have all privately had their criticisms of Belto.”

Katerina asked curiously, “The Popes are the beneficiaries of Pope Belto’s actions. Why would they criticize their predecessor?”

“Because of balance and position.”

James set down his coffee cup and continued, “The Knights’ strength was weakened, and the Church’s clergy was also weakened. The power of both sides approached a balance, creating a basis for cooperation. The pressure to survive finally brought them together. The noblewoman Arya studied the Radiant Code and established the vassalage system, bringing a portion of mortals into the category of nobles and allowing the knight’s bloodline to spread. Bronze Knights also needed the support of divine arts, and Knight-Lords could not threaten the Church’s divine authority, which also allowed the nobles to infiltrate the Church. This was both a compromise by the Knights and a counterattack.”

“When Arya created the vassalage system, she said, ‘This may be a bad thing, but it is certainly a good thing. What’s important is that we have no other choice.’ Heh, Arya was a noblewoman first and a priest second. Her vassalage system was indeed a good thing for the Knights, but for the Church, especially for the papal line, it was entirely a bad thing!”

A flash of insight struck Victor’s mind, and he exclaimed, “I understand!”

“Darling, what do you understand?” Nicole asked softly, blinking her pretty eyes. The others also looked at Victor.

“The Pope’s loss of power was no accident, it was inevitable! The Archwizard siblings, Claire and her brother, were just the catalyst. Even without them, the Radiant Knights would have found a way to steal the Golden Horn! It’s possible… hehe…” Victor thought to himself: It’s possible it was a setup deliberately arranged by the Radiant Knights! They might have secretly colluded with the Pantheon… If so, things are complicated. It might involve extraordinary beings.

James smiled. “That’s right. Ever since the vassalage system appeared, the papal line has lost its foundation to rule. Look at the Church now. The Radiant Knights are nobles, Pope Clement is a Knight-Noble, Frieders is a noble, Tamor is a noble. Even the other high-ranking clergy who don’t have noble bloodlines—how different is their behavior from that of the nobles?”

“Today’s Church is a church of nobles, and today’s era is the age of nobles!”

“I hear the Church controls over a thousand of the Pope’s descendants… Alas, Belto’s descendants have become puppets. I wonder what he would think of this in the Lord of Radiance’s divine kingdom?”

The old scholar was sighing in lament, but his tone was one of schadenfreude. Everyone burst into laughter, and even Sylvia couldn’t help but smile.

“The noble-led Church only wants the Pope to be a figurehead. No one wants the papal line to regain power. For a patriarch to ascend to the papal throne, he must criticize His Majesty Belto and weaken the Pope’s influence to show his position. That is the position that comes after achieving balance!” Sylvia’s melodious voice rang through the hall. “The nobles have always been probing the loopholes of the Radiant Code. Arya tried, the Radiant Knights tried. Every attempt is accompanied by struggle, progress, sacrifice, and great benefits, but one thing is certain: the clergy need population and land, and the Knight-Lords need land and population. Our positions are aligned, and our goals are the same.”

“Grand Legions have existed before, and they can exist now! Does anyone have a dissenting opinion?”

Enbise slowly stood up. Meeting the astonished gazes of the crowd, he said in a deep voice, “This is a high-stakes gamble. His Eminence Clement is already at the table. As a descendant of the Fang, as the current Duke York, how could I shrink back? I support the Grand Legion Strategy!”

Katerina’s eyes flashed as if she were seeing her husband for the first time. Just as everyone was filled with solemn respect, Enbise shrank back into his seat, wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead, and said in a small voice, “However, I do have one more tiny question…”

Chapter 385: Balance (Part 1)

“We have no money.”

Enbise clasped his hands together, his two fat thumbs circling each other with surprising speed and dexterity. “I’m short on money myself,” he added.

The various vassal lords, great and small, stared at the Duke dumbfounded, then turned their gazes to the Queen of Roses. Sylvia pursed her crystal-clear red lips slightly but said nothing.

“Alright. Let’s do the math.” As if he had received a signal, Enbise tapped the table to draw everyone’s attention and began, “According to the Randall family’s pay system for hired soldiers, a soldier’s military pay for the first to the third year is three Gold Sols. For three thousand soldiers, that’s nine thousand Gold Sols per year. From the fourth to the sixth year, the pay increases by one Gold Sol, making it twelve thousand Gold Sols per year. The total pay for six years comes to sixty-three thousand Gold Sols. These three thousand soldiers will only train and not do other work. Their annual cost for food and potions is at least eight Gold Sols per person. Over six years, that’s a food bill of one hundred forty-four thousand Gold Sols.”

The vassal lords looked at each other in dismay.

“I won’t even go into the seventh to ninth years; let’s just talk about the expenses for the first six.” Enbise said with a chuckle, “For a mercenary legion of three thousand men, the average annual military fund is no less than thirty-four thousand Gold Sols.”

The faces of the vassal lords turned ashen.

Enbise continued, “Viscount Randell has the raw sugar trade. Besides him, which of you can afford to maintain a mercenary legion?”

“Hmph!”

Nicole was very displeased. So they had no money, but why bring up Victor’s wealth? Couldn’t he see the glint in Katerina’s eyes as she looked over?

It wasn’t just the high-ranking female knights present whose eyes were shining. However, Victor was not the liege lord of the York family. Seeking his support was nothing but a daydream. Besides, he didn’t have enough money either!

“My lord Duke, is this the ‘small problem’ you mentioned?” Viscount Harnas said sullenly. The annual military expenditure of thirty-four thousand Gold Sols made him feel hopeless.

How could money possibly be a small problem for a lord?

Victor’s calm and unruffled expression was reflected in Audel’s lake-green eyes. An idea sparked in her mind, and she said with a charming laugh, “I recall His Excellency Randell once proposed an interesting theory—let the meat rot in the pot. An annual stipend of three Gold Sols for a hired soldier is actually not that high, even less than the annual income of a hired laborer. Once the soldiers have money, they will need to spend it. Taverns, inns, casinos, and general stores will empty their pockets. These shops have to pay us rent, and their goods come from us. We can also follow His Excellency Randell’s method and levy a transaction tax on the shops. In the end, the military pay flows back into the family’s Treasury. This way, the stipends we pay out don’t accumulate year after year. Instead, they decrease within the annual cycle, because we profit from selling supplies.”

“As for the food and potions consumed by the mercenary legion…” Audel giggled. “With the crops and herbs we harvest each year, and the cattle and sheep we raise, surely we can afford to feed three thousand mercenaries?”

Earl Teldrane nodded with a smile. “The military fund the Duke proposed is frightening, but no matter how frightening, a number is still just a number.”

The vassal lords looked relieved.

“Mm,” Duke York’s voice came again. “But are you really willing to support three thousand men for nothing?”

Trisley’s brother, Viscount Raven, shook his head. “To be honest, I wouldn’t part with a single Copper Sol to pay a hired soldier for nothing… It wasn’t like this before…”

Lords often hire refugee mercenary companies for combat missions, but they don’t support them for free during peacetime. Mercenary companies trade their lives for money, whereas a mercenary legion gets free food and drink, plus military pay, just for training. Even vassal soldiers don’t receive such treatment. They provide their own weapons, train on their own initiative, receive no stipend, and must respond to their lord’s summons at any time. At most, they enjoy free food and medicine while on duty, receive some allowance as pocket money, or are rewarded by their liege lord.

The professionalized mercenary army made the lords of the York family very uncomfortable. But without training, the hired soldiers would have no combat effectiveness. And without pay, the mercenary legion would lack its veneer of legitimacy.

In other words, only when a hired soldier has taken the lord’s money can the lord punish him for desertion. This is the very foundation of a mercenary legion’s existence.

“Raise an army for a thousand days to use it for one hour.” How would they use this mercenary legion? Would it be effective? That remained an unknown. Yet, the cost of maintaining it had become a pressing problem. Compared to their loyal vassal soldiers, the lords’ feelings were now rather conflicted.

Enbise took in everyone’s expressions, an indescribable pleasure swelling in his heart. When it comes to strength and Bloodline, I am inferior to you. But in wisdom and ability, you are not necessarily better than me… I am not some useless puppet. I am the Duke of York! And now, all of you will listen to me.

“Besides food, drink, and pay, hired soldiers also need weapons. We can’t very well have them fighting with pork hams on their shoulders, can we?”

Duke York controlled the rhythm of the conversation, speaking at the opportune moment. “The standard equipment for the Randall family’s hired soldiers includes chainmail, leather armor, a shield, a shortsword, a one-handed spear, and javelins. Each set is worth eighty Gold Sols. Three thousand sets come to two hundred forty thousand Gold Sols, and that doesn’t even account for the cost of warhorses, crossbows, and Swiftbirds. Is this huge sum not an expense for the lord? Won’t the equipment wear out? Will it not need replacing?”

This string of questions weighed like stones on the hearts of the vassal lords. Their expressions were grave, and they remained silent.

Duke York continued, “The Centaur Hills are rich in refined iron ore, but they lack raw iron, and a soldier’s equipment requires raw iron.” His tone shifted as he suddenly asked, “Victor, in forging so much equipment, have you used up all your iron ore reserves?”

Ugh, the Goblins enslaved by the Marsh Half-dragons dig up more than eight tons of rich iron ore for me every month… I have a great furnace powered by fire element crystals that can smelt five tons of raw iron monthly… Victor mused silently. He had already grasped Enbise’s intentions, so he went along with his tone, saying gravely, “I have indeed used up my iron ore reserves and even had to purchase a batch of expensive raw iron from Wildwillow City.”

“You all heard him,” Enbise said. “We trade Purple Cane wine with the Naville people for raw iron and rich iron ore. Over time, raw iron rusts easily, so our iron ore reserves are extremely important and cannot be touched lightly. If our warehouses run out of iron ore, others will have us by the throat.”

“The Randall family’s situation is unique. They lack vassals and have no choice but to recruit refugee mercenaries to defend the Southern Fortress. Therefore, the iron problem has not yet become apparent. But once Sophia joins the Centaur Hills and we also begin to form a mercenary legion, how will the other lords react? They will surely move against the Centaur Hills’ iron trade, imposing fees all along the way, exploiting us at every level. We might have to sell our pork for the price of hay just to get raw iron and iron ore. Are we just cultivating land, raising pigs, and herding cattle for other families?”

“Actually, we don’t lack money. What we lack are trade routes!”

Viscount Harnas was silent for a moment before saying, “We have Goldwater City, Wildwillow City, and Raven Town… Raven Town does business with the Dodor people. The lords of Gambis can’t do anything to us!”

“Useless!” Duke York sneered. “The Dodor people won’t pass up an opportunity to feast on our flesh and blood either.”

The atmosphere in the hall grew heavy once more. Sylvia finally spoke, resting her chin on her hand and smiling gracefully. “Enbise, Katerina, how do you two plan to solve this ‘small problem’?”

Katerina stood and bowed. “Your Highness, I believe we must reduce the size of the mercenary legion. A force of three thousand is far too large. It would be difficult to train, difficult to command, and difficult to coordinate. The consumption of supplies would be immense, and it would be a big target, easily drawing the wariness, suppression, and infiltration of other powers. I propose that we first select young, strong refugees and form a five-hundred-man mercenary company. We can train them as a core force, developing the legion’s system as we go. When the time is right, it won’t be too late to expand.”

“On the other hand, the equipment of the mercenary legion must remain inferior to that of vassal soldiers. Hired soldiers should be equipped with hardened leather armor, a shield, a one-handed spear, and a one-handed shortsword. That will suffice. Only those who train diligently and achieve military merit will be qualified to become vassal soldiers and use superior equipment.”

“My lords, there is a clear hierarchy between vassals and refugees that must not be transgressed!”

Katerina’s Bloodline, appearance, and intellect were all of the highest caliber. Her speech made the attendees nod frequently in agreement. She was, after all, the legitimate daughter of the Joshua family, a woman who had come close to becoming the Queen of Gambis. If she did not possess outstanding talent, Sylvia would not have let her wield the authority of the ducal line.

“My dear, what do you think?” Sylvia asked for Victor’s opinion.

Victor nodded and said, “My Lady Katerina’s suggestion is very reasonable. However, the Randall family’s mercenary legion will only grow, not shrink. I will only make adjustments to the legion’s organization and numbers, distinguishing between the elite and the mediocre by establishing a main legion and a reserve legion.”

Victor had Alchemy Tower No. 7, and the land under his actual control far exceeded the area of the Randell Fief. The resources of the Larkspur Mountains and the Great Marsh were his for the taking. His smuggling caravans controlled over a hundred mountain folk fortified villages and refugee camps. The Golden Company’s power was snowballing, already beginning to penetrate the Warton Great Plains. In the near future, mountain folk hunters, herdsmen from the Great Plains, and refugee bandits would all be potential sources of soldiers for Victor. And the great division of labor brought about by the Leasehold Employment System was the guarantee for establishing a professional army.

With resources, channels, manpower, technology, and a system in place, to say nothing of forming one mercenary legion of three thousand men, even forming thirty would be no issue.

Of course, Victor could not expand his mercenary legion indefinitely. The upper limit of Alchemical humans determined the total size of the mercenary legion. Once this limit was exceeded, the loyalty of the legion would be difficult to guarantee, and it would be highly susceptible to infiltration and control by the Church or other great lords.

Based on the calculation of inserting one Alchemical auxiliary soldier for every twenty-five hired soldiers, Victor could currently recruit a maximum of fifteen thousand hired soldiers and form five fully-manned legions.

Such a small force was obviously not enough to contend with the Ant-man army head-on. He still needed to hide behind the York family, cultivate his core faction and confidants, and grow his strength in secret.

The strategy of “dig deep tunnels, store abundant grain, and be slow to claim the title of king” was a perfect fit for Victor’s current situation.

“We are still counting on you and Nicole to defend the Southern Fortress and share the family’s burden.” Katerina flashed a smile, her teeth pearly white and her expression radiant.

Duke York cleared his throat and said, “As for the mercenaries’ equipment, it would be best if we could handle it ourselves and try not to rely on external powers. You can recruit your own mercenaries; I won’t interfere. But borrowing money from me is impossible. With so many lords, I wouldn’t have enough money to go around even if I had mountains of it.”

“However, as the liege lord of the York family, I also have an obligation to ensure the livelihood of my vassals… How about this: my craftsmen have improved the manufacturing technique for Vine-hide armor. You bring tanned cowhides to Goldwater City, and I will have my people make the armor for you. For every five pieces made, I will take one as payment. What do you think?”

Viscount Fred was the first to jump up. “Brother, that’s not very fair play of you! Taking one for every twenty would be more in line with the magnanimity of a liege lord!”

“Fredrick is right! One in twenty.” Earl Teldrane nodded repeatedly.

Duke York slammed his fist on the table, yelling, “Dream on! One in six, at most…”

“My lord, we’re very poor…”

“Poor? What poor! As if I don’t know how many cattle you all raise!”

The vassal lords and the Duke haggled back and forth, all etiquette forgotten, and the meeting room instantly turned into a noisy marketplace.

Sylvia watched this scene with amusement. Victor also smiled without a word; he had already mastered the improved technique for making Vine-hide armor.

“Your Excellency Randell, Vine-hide armor was originally invented by one of your subordinates. You be the judge. Is Enbise’s demand of one in six fair?” Earl Teldrane said, his eyes wide.

“It is fair,” Victor said with a faint smile, then added, “But I object!”

Chapter 386: Balance (Part 2)

Sylvia’s azure eyes shifted, and she asked with a trace of confusion, “My love, if you think it’s fair, why do you still object?”

Enbise sat quietly, as if not at all surprised. Victor met his gaze, and for a moment, they shared a look of mutual appreciation.

“The fiefs are too far apart, and the transportation costs are too high,” Victor said. “I suggest we establish Vine-hide armor workshops in the northern, central, and southern parts of the Centaur Hills. Producing it locally will greatly reduce transportation costs.”

Enbise asked with a smile, “And who would these workshops belong to?”

“Don’t we have a merchant association with a shareholding system? Why don’t we just place the Vine-hide armor workshops under the association’s name? We can take a one-sixth cut as profit and distribute it according to each person’s shares. How about it?”

“A brilliant idea!” Enbise clapped his hands and laughed heartily. “We can transport that one-sixth cut of Vine-hide armor to Raven Town, Goldwater City, and Wildwillow City, then sell it to other lords at a high price.”

“Vine-hide armor is a fine commodity. If the lords want to buy it, they’ll not only have to pay a high price, but they’ll also need an allotted share.”

“And to get a share of Vine-hide armor, they’ll have to sell us designated goods at our designated prices.”

“Or, they could purchase goods from the Centaur Hills at prices we set—like ham, cured meat, blood sausage, bristle brushes, oilcloth, and so on.”

The two echoed each other, and in a flash, a bundling strategy for the Vine-hide armor was born. The vassal lords were dumbfounded. Duke York declared smugly, “Everyone can sell their goods to the shareholding merchant association, and the money the association earns can then be paid out as dividends according to your shares.”

Audel let out a giggle, casting a charming glance at Victor. “Did you two plan this beforehand?”

“This is the course of action that best serves all our interests,” Victor said with an elegant, slight bow.

There was no such thing as democracy in this other world. The Privy Council Meeting was not a democratic forum, and Sylvia thoroughly listening to her subordinates’ opinions was certainly not a prelude to a vote. When it came to major decisions for the York family, her word was law!

A Spirit Knight’s only rival is another Spirit Knight.

Veronica Baselius established the Iron Mountain Empire, so why couldn’t Sylvia establish a Rose Empire? Even if Victor couldn’t become the second Sword Saint, she was determined to push the York family onto the throne of a royal family.

The York family already occupied most of the Centaur Hills and had the structure of a Dukedom. Clement’s olive branch gave Sylvia hope for her family’s further advancement, making the Grand Legion Strategy an imperative for her.

However, before forging an alliance with the Pontiff and the Kingdom of Naville, Sylvia first had to unify the voices within her own house. That meant allowing her subordinates to fully express their own interests and pursuits, ultimately creating a state of balance.

This was the true essence of the meeting!

The strength of the York family’s vassal lords had long since surpassed that of most independent lords, and they were especially eager to possess a relatively independent armed force. The military revolution brought by the mercenary armies met their practical needs, which was why they spared no effort in supporting the Grand Legion Strategy.

This placed enormous pressure on Enbise and Katerina. As the nominal liege lords, they had to maintain a military, political, and economic advantage over their vassals, as well as significant influence. Otherwise, a political situation where the liege is weak and the vassals are strong would emerge, posing a substantial threat to the ducal line.

They would never dare to defy the will of a Spirit Knight and oppose the Grand Legion Strategy. Sylvia could raise Enbise up, and she could also destroy him. If necessary, she would do so without the slightest hesitation.

Katerina used financial status, military effectiveness, and the vassal hierarchy as her leverage, aiming to reduce the scale and combat power of the mercenary armies. This would avoid getting bogged down in a military race with the vassal lords and buy the ducal line a chance to breathe.

Enbise, approaching it from a technical and commercial standpoint, sought to forge closer economic ties with the vassal lords, using his leadership in the shareholding merchant association to expand the influence of the ducal line.

Victor had perfectly coordinated with him.

In fact, all of this was the result of Victor’s subtle guidance from behind the scenes.

The rock bricks and giant brick kilns had solidified Sylvia’s resolve to hold the Centaur Hills. The New Agro-husbandry and water projects provided the economic foundation for the Grand Legion Strategy. The Centaur Hills now had the military and material guarantees to resist an Ant-man invasion, while the mercenary army’s expansion south of the river provided Victor with a path of retreat.

Of course, things did not always develop as planned. Victor hadn’t expected Clement to propose a three-party alliance, and the battle priests’ involvement in the mercenary army might adversely affect military command. Still, the clergy’s participation was ultimately a good thing.

Victor was almost certain that he and the Ant-men were merely pawns in the Alchemical Empire’s rebirth; the true enemy had yet to reveal itself. To cope with future changes, besides strengthening human society, he even had the idea of forming an alliance with the Barbarians. The specific approach would depend on the balance of power between them—enslavement and annexation, deception and exploitation, or annihilation and expulsion were all options on the table.

Victor’s next step was to absorb Sophia’s Caravan, integrating the shareholding merchant association with The Golden Company, and then pull more regional lords into The Golden Company. He believed Clement would be a great help in this undertaking.

However, to gain more support from the Pontiff, he needed Sylvia to successfully complete her internal consolidation first.

Therefore, no matter how one looked at it, Victor had to support Enbise’s commercial plan.

Anna was still living at Silver Moon Manor; Viscount Fredrick and his wife would not disrespect Victor.

Audel shot Victor a meaningful glance and said with a faint smile, “Fredrick and I support Your Excellency Randall’s proposal.”

With the family’s third-in-line for succession agreeing to expand the scope of the shareholding merchant association, the others all voiced their support. Only Earl Teldrane and Lady Ulyana remained silent; their fief contained more than four thousand six hundred hectares of Purple Cane forest.

Sylvia lifted her coffee, took a sip, and said coolly, “So be it. Everyone, prepare to return to your fiefs.” She set down a purple-gold cup, looked directly into Victor’s eyes, and said in a tone that brooked no argument, “Anna is coming back to Rose Manor with me.”

The atmosphere in the room instantly grew heavy. Everyone’s gaze darted back and forth between Victor, Duke York, and Viscount Fredrick.

Fredrick’s expression was calm, Audel lowered her eyes, and Duke York’s hands clenched into fists, his breathing quickening.

Victor smiled at Sylvia and said softly, “Sophia is very fond of Anna and is planning to take her on as a student. Why don’t we wait for Sophia to return and ask for her opinion then?” He met Sylvia’s gaze without flinching.

Clatter.

The cup in front of Enbise fell to the floor. He bent down with difficulty to pick it up, but everyone’s eyes were fixed only on Sylvia.

No one had expected Victor to directly intervene in the York family’s succession struggle in such a setting and in such a manner. Everyone was waiting for Sylvia’s response.

“Do you know what you are saying?” Sylvia raised a delicate eyebrow, anger flashing in her eyes.

Victor nodded and said calmly, “I am keeping Anna as a guest at Silver Moon Manor until Sophia returns.”

Amazing! Truly worthy of being the Queen of Roses’ man… A similar thought bloomed in everyone’s mind.

Sylvia said, somewhat displeased, “Since you insist… very well.”

The Queen has compromised… Truly worthy of being Sylvia’s man!

Fredrick and Audel both broke into smiles, while Enbise’s face turned pale, covered in sweat. Katerina let out a soft sigh. The crowd’s gazes toward the Duke now held a hint of pity.

It made sense, when one thought about it. Victor and Sophia represented the future Bloodline of the York family. In a sense, their importance far surpassed that of Enbise and Katerina. Victor’s intervention in the York family’s internal affairs was a declaration of House of Randell’s political aspirations toward the Yorks, and it could be seen as an Integration of the two houses.

No one would refuse an Integration with House of Randell, least of all Duke York and Katerina!

“My love, I want you to select a group of your attendants to join the Fanged Legion. After they have served for two full years, arrange for them to become Centurions in the mercenary army.” Sylvia tilted her head and smiled. “You won’t refuse this little request of mine, will you?”

House of Randell was protecting Anna to seek political influence over the York family and legitimize their own voice in its affairs. But since they were now participating in the Yorks’ internal politics, they had to bear the consequences. Establishing a military liege-vassal relationship was the first and foremost change.

This was Sylvia’s way of placating Katerina and Enbise, reminding everyone that Enbise was still Duke York. At the same time, she was making it clear that the various families’ mercenary armies could not break away from the Fanged Legion’s command structure.

“Alright!”

Victor agreed without hesitation, thinking to himself: If it weren’t for the sake of directly influencing the military development and strategic decisions of the Centaur Hills’ Grand Legion, why would I bother getting involved in this mess between the brothers Fredrick and Enbise?

With only House of Randell’s mercenary army, Victor could only defend the Southern Fortress. The two gaps in the central and northern regions were beyond his reach, and he had no desire to entrust his life and fortune to the York family’s lords.

Sylvia nodded in satisfaction, then frowned. “I have already accepted Marquess Faroul’s marriage alliance proposal. The Kingdom of Naville will be an important ally. If Anna cannot go, we must choose another outstanding child…” Her gaze shifted to Earl Teldrane and his wife. “Elwin is eight years old this year and has already resonated with five Elemental Nodes. Let him go to Naville.”

Earl Teldrane’s eyes froze. He hadn’t expected this “good fortune” to fall upon him. The self-control of a Silver Knight allowed him to quickly compose himself. He asked respectfully, “Your Highness, who will be responsible for raising and educating the child we receive in exchange for Elwin?”

“Katerina, of course,” Sylvia said, her gaze turning icy. “What? Are you unwilling?”

Ulyana placed a hand on Teldrane’s to restrain him and bowed her head. “As you wish, Your Highness, the revered Sylvia.”

“The family’s interests come first,” Sylvia said with a slight nod of approval, then commanded, “You are all dismissed.”

The crowd departed one by one. They would need some time to digest the changes this meeting had brought.

As Lady Ulyana left, she leaned close to Victor’s ear and whispered, “Your Excellency Randall, Silver Moon Manor is beautiful. I hope I might also be a guest here someday.” Before Victor could reply, she gave him a seductive smile and glided gracefully out the door.

Once everyone had left the meeting room, Sylvia threw herself into Victor’s arms, wrapping her own around his neck. “My love,” she chided playfully, “you really are brave. Weren’t you afraid I’d get angry?”

A strange expression crossed Victor’s face. “If you hadn’t been caressing my leg with your foot under the table, I might have been scared to death…”

Chapter 387: At Ease

“You’re the one who was seducing me.”

Sylvia sat on Victor’s lap, her pale, slender hands wrapped around his neck. Her smile was sly, her eyes sultry as silk.

If Victor’s marriage to Elina and her sister was a passive acceptance, then his protection of Anna could be seen as an active and willing integration. From now on, the economic, military, and political ties between the House of Randell and the York family would become even closer, and legitimately so. Most importantly, Victor’s focus was no longer limited to his own fiefdom; he would now devote more of his vigor to the reformation of the Centaur Hills, advising and planning for the York family.

Love me and help me—that is what makes a man mine!

Victor’s change in stance made Sylvia overjoyed, and her every smile and frown bloomed with a captivating charm.

People deeply in love are always attentive to the changes in their beloved. Sylvia’s coquettish pout made Victor’s heart soar. He wrapped one arm around the Queen of Roses’ slender waist and used the other to knead and massage her smooth, jade-like calf, teasing, “Is this how you seduce someone?”

“Mmm…” Sylvia hummed softly, a faint smile on her lips as she rested her head on Victor’s shoulder. Their fresh scents mingled, gradually creating a soft, sweet fragrance.

The two embraced intimately, quietly savoring the warmth and sweetness of the moment.

“Is there anything you want to ask?” Sylvia lifted her head. The tenderness in her eyes remained, but now it held a glint of wisdom.

She was a noblewoman of Sus, skilled in the arts of seduction and knowledgeable in how to please a man. She was also the Queen of Roses, decisive and resolute, her will as firm as iron. More than that, she was a top-tier powerhouse, her spirit complete, standing proud above all others. She would never want her partner to be a weakling who would drown himself in a sea of sensual pleasure, unable to break free.

No matter how much one embellished a passionate, whirlwind romance, it was hard to hide the seething desire, an impulse akin to that of a beast, devoid of any aesthetic. Indulging in that fire would only bring exhaustion and weariness to both parties. Only a taste of tenderness, reined in before it went too far, an emotional attachment that could be given and withdrawn at will, could make their love profound and everlasting, never fading with the passage of time.

After all, extraordinary powerhouses did not have many partners.

Victor had many women, but none could attract him as deeply as Sylvia. In the course of their mutual chase and conquest, Sylvia’s perfectly-timed gentle encouragement and her ambiguous hints—seemingly affectionate, yet seemingly not—were subtly influencing Victor. He was coming to understand the difference between the weak and the strong, the boundary between reason and emotion. He learned to play different roles, appearing at ease with anyone he faced, and in doing so, became even more charming.

Sylvia’s azure eyes were as pure and distant as the sky. The romantic thoughts stirring in Victor’s heart quickly calmed. He sighed, “Was Anna your arrangement for me?”

“That was your own choice. I merely respected it.”

Sylvia chuckled sweetly. “I’m also very curious. Why did you decide to protect Anna?”

“I want to be truly involved in the affairs of the Centaur Hills. Doing so as the Queen of Roses’ lover would always invite gossip…” Victor admitted frankly, then shook his head. “Besides, a great beauty like Audel pleaded so softly. I couldn’t bear to see mother and daughter separated. I just didn’t expect that Earl Teldrane and his wife’s youngest son would have to bear Anna’s fate.”

“Then what about me? What about Audel and Ulena? And what about you?”

Sylvia smiled faintly. “As nobles, how could we enjoy the power and glory our families provide without paying a price? If a family fails to maintain marriage ties with those of high bloodlines, it will only face decline and extinction, just like House Sorim. The only thing we can do is give our pity and compassion to our adopted sons and daughters, and let them feel the warmth of the family. Do you understand now why your father was so indifferent to you? He couldn’t protect his outstanding offspring, and only hoped you could integrate easily into a new family.”

Victor nodded, muttering, “He should have sold me for a higher price back then… What do you think of five hundred thousand Gold Sol?”

Sylvia paused for a moment, then giggled. “I wouldn’t pay a single Gold Sol. I’d just snatch you away.”

Victor deeply agreed with Sylvia’s words. Katerina had been snatched away by her, while he had been a complete freebie. On second thought, Sophia and Catherine were the real big spenders.

Sylvia’s eyes shifted, and she added, “If you really feel bad about it… then give Ulena a child.”

Victor grunted and changed the subject. “Why do I get the feeling you’re deliberately suppressing Earl Teldrane?”

“That’s part of it.” Sylvia nodded and said lazily, “Teldrane and Ulena are hidebound, unwilling to actively participate in the shareholding merchant associations. And these shareholding merchant associations are set to evolve into the logistics system for the Grand Legions. If I don’t rap their knuckles a bit, Teldrane will sooner or later become an obstacle to the Grand Legion Strategy. Since they represent the family’s traditional faction, they must follow tradition and contribute an outstanding offspring to the family.”

“Of course, besides Anna and Elwin, no other scion of our York family is worthy of House Farul. That family not only has a Gold Knight, but they also have the blood of the Naville royal family flowing in their veins.”

“Alright, let’s not talk about this.” Sylvia gave Victor a light peck on the lips and returned to her own seat. Her expression turned serious as she said, “My dear, you must understand that instability in the family succession will inevitably lead to internal strife, and we need to be united. Anna cannot be allowed to challenge the status of Enbise’s line. Your and Sophia’s children must marry Katerina’s children. Their descendants will be the heirs to the York family.”

Victor said in frustration, “I don’t have a single child yet. I wonder if there’s something wrong with me?”

“Clement has already used a divine art of true sight to observe your condition. He said you’re very healthy. There’s only one possible reason you don’t have children yet: your elven bloodline is still undergoing purification.” Sylvia glanced at him, the corners of her lips turning up. “You’re not yet an adult.”

“That’s… rather embarrassing.” Victor rubbed his nose and gave a wry smile.

Sylvia reached out and patted Victor’s cheek, saying gleefully, “But it’s also something to look forward to.” She paused for a moment before continuing, “Katerina lived in Aerie Fortress for a time, and she’s on very good personal terms with Roland. Roland is passionate about armies and knightly orders, so Katerina followed her to study at the Royal Capital’s Imperial Guard and the Swift Dragon Knights. She has mastered a great deal of practical military knowledge and possesses rather outstanding command abilities. I hope you two can cooperate to perfect the Fanged Legion and the mercenary legions, and establish a system for coordinated warfare.”

“I will do my best to assist her.” Victor gave a slight nod. He was well aware that his own military knowledge was actually quite shallow. His tone shifted as he added, “I hope that she and Enbise won’t hold a grudge against me because of this business with Anna.”

“If Katerina doesn’t even have that much magnanimity, it would only prove her vision is insufficient to lead the family to prosperity.” Sylvia’s gaze was profound. She looked Victor up and down, then smiled. “I trust Katerina will work hard to maintain a good relationship with you.”

Sylvia didn’t mention Enbise, only Katerina, which showed that Enbise held no position in her heart at all. The current Duke York was merely a figurehead for the family. Although Victor didn’t sympathize with Enbise, he felt a certain sorrow for ordinary nobles.

Extraordinary Knights remained forever youthful, and the marriages between them and ordinary nobles were destined to be tragedies. Katerina had stepped into the extraordinary realm and still bore a child for Enbise, which was proof enough of her Creed of protection towards the York family. No one could force her to continue serving an ordinary noble. Now, Enbise had no right to question whom Katerina associated with.

Jealousy would only bring disaster upon an ordinary noble, and the Church often chose to turn a blind eye to it.

This was the privilege of an Extraordinary Knight, and it was also the reason Victor had wanted to stay away from Sophia in the first place.

He was silent for a moment, then asked, “By the way, do you want to go see Clement? He might be waiting for you to state your position.”

“Of course.” Sylvia nodded and smiled confidently. “But that would merely be a courtesy visit. This kind of secret alliance requires no dialogue and leaves no written record; it depends entirely on mutual understanding and practical action. I settle refugees, and the Pontiff dispatches novice priests to establish schools and pacify the populace. I recruit a mercenary army, and the Pope arranges for battle priests to help us train soldiers and boost their morale.”

Victor couldn’t help but ask, “Aren’t you worried that the battle priests will interfere with the chain of command in the mercenary legions? Sometimes, we have to order the mercenaries on suicidal missions.”

Sylvia chuckled and shook her head. “If Clement lacked this understanding, he wouldn’t be supporting the mercenary legions. Our ultimate goal is to weed out the weak and keep the strong, transforming the elite mercenaries into loyal vassal soldiers. The battle priests are well aware of this. They are more pragmatic than the preaching priests and better understand the meaning of sacrifice. In order to save more soldiers from death, and to let the lord bear the infamy, they will look on coldly, remain silent, or praise the valor of the fallen.”

Victor sighed and said, “I hope so.”

Sylvia shook her head with a laugh. “My dear, believe me, what battle priests are best at is inciting mercenary companies to go to their deaths. Otherwise, how could the clergy’s armies have survived thousands of years of wars against the beastmen? The Church can’t conscript mortal armies, after all.”

Victor was dumbfounded. “So mercenary companies were originally the Church’s creation?”

“It was all for the sake of survival,” Sylvia replied calmly.

During the Silver Age, the relationship between the knight-lords and the Church was at an all-time low. Refugees fled everywhere, life was hard, and to make matters worse, Goblins and Gnolls were particularly adept at infiltration. The Church’s main armies had to fight the beastmen tribes and had no resources to spare for the small monster bands in the rear. It was inevitable that the Church would train battle priests and call upon the refugees to protect themselves. This is how the mercenary companies, large and small, came to be.

Victor had originally thought that low-ranked priests were paragons of compassion, but it turned out that in this world, even the air was toxic to such saints.

In any case, this was a good thing. At least for now, he didn’t need to worry about the Church hamstringing the mercenary legions. A great weight was lifted from Victor’s heart. He said half-jokingly, “My dear, I really want to become one of your Rose Knights.”

Only by joining the Rose Knights could Victor gain command authority over the Fanged Legion, rather than being limited to logistical support for the Grand Legion and only indirectly influencing the York family’s military deployments, as he was now.

However, an independent lord’s allegiance was to the King. Given Victor and Sophia’s special status, if he were to join the Rose Knights, it would shatter the political balance that Gambis had so painstakingly established.

This was a change that even Sylvia could not accept. She bit her red lip gently and said with deep affection, “My dear, from the moment we met for the second time, you were already my knight. And you will remain my only knight, now and forever.”

Chapter 388: Tutor Tournans

Sylvia left, returning to Goldwater City with the leaders of the York family.

The vast Silver Moon Manor returned to its former peace and quiet, but Victor could not enjoy a moment of leisure. A mountain of matters awaited his attention.

Following Bishop Pello’s instructions, Father Miller had requested that Victor include the Randell Fief’s transaction tax in the tithe, meaning the method for collecting the tithe had to be redrafted. The Pope had already approved the Randall family’s minting of new, small-denomination copper coins, but the specific details—procuring raw materials, selecting a site, the casting process, and the currency’s exchange rate and method—all needed to be finalized. The mercenary legion’s combat structure needed adjustment. The Swamp Scouts’ ranks urgently needed to be expanded. Sophia’s knights, leveraging her status as the family’s lady, had spontaneously taken control of affairs large and small in Raven Town, and a way had to be found to reassign all of them. Quicksilver had successfully established a connection with the Stag Merchants’ Guild and was now locked in a fierce, losing battle with the Masked Brotherhood, requiring support. In the third month of the Season of Wind, Edward would be crowned king. As the lord of Gambis, Victor had to go to Aerie Fortress in person to swear fealty to the new king. Then there was the total mobilization for the Fishman War…

One after another, these troublesome issues gave Victor a massive headache. The most pressing matter, however, was to claim the Church’s reward: the new secret martial art created by the legendary Sacred Warrior Tournans after he had integrated the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form, the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form, and the Vibration Secret Technique.

At the foot of the back mountain of Silver Moon Manor lay a hemlock forest. It had once been a primeval woodland with dense vegetation, but workers had cleared the low-lying shrubs, cut down many of the tall, straight hemlock trees, planted alfalfa and rabbit grass, and released a herd of yellow goats and short-tailed deer, transforming it into a scenic forest hunting ground.

Victor would occasionally bring Nicole and the others here to hunt for recreation, but the affairs of the Randell Fief were numerous, and most of the time, he and his ladies were busy. Over time, the forest hunting ground became a tranquil and secluded place, with only a single family responsible for forest fire prevention and maintaining the hunting lodge.

In the early morning, more than two hundred fully armed guards shattered the forest’s tranquility. They formed a loose security perimeter, preventing anyone from entering or leaving at will. The forester’s family had also been asked to leave. Within the perimeter, dozens of mid-rank Sacred Warriors patrolled back and forth, guarding a clearing deep in the forest and warding off any prying eyes.

The Randall family guards and the Templars were behaving with such gravity because Lord Tournans was about to impart a completely new secret martial art to the House of Randell. He had specifically instructed Viscount Randell: maintain secrecy.

Sunlight slanted into the forest, and the dewdrops on the blades of grass reflected a brilliant light, decorating the clearing like a fairyland.

On the lawn, Clement stood in a white robe, holding little Beldina’s hand, with two high-ranking clergy attending him from behind. Victor stood to his left, half a shoulder behind the Pope. Beside him were Nicole, Lilia, as well as Marcy and Caligula.

Tournans and Narsen faced each other from a distance. Both had removed their shirts, revealing lean, powerful muscles with fluid lines. Demonstrating a secret martial art required showing the interplay of muscle and bone.

“Supreme Lord above, why did you bring this fool here?” Tournans glared at the tall and foolishly plump Caligula, asking with some curiosity. Having taken off his Bishop’s robes, his manner of speaking had changed as well.

Victor, hoping the Pope could cure Beldina’s congenital disease, had sent her to the Church in Laketon. Clement, pitying little Bel’s misfortune, kept her by his side. He seemed to believe that Tournans’s new secret martial art could help Beldina overcome her ailment.

As a senior knight, Nicole had no interest in mortal martial arts. However, if Victor cared about this secret martial art, then so did she. Besides, this art was originally intended to be taught to the York family and the Naville royal family.

Lilia was eligible to learn the secret martial art, but the opportunity to have a legendary Sacred Warrior personally demonstrate it was unprecedented. By observing in person, she might even be able to ask Tournans about any difficult points. Lilia was not like the Elina sisters; besides beauty, she also yearned to become stronger.

Marcy had been invited by name by Tournans. When she discovered that Father Davy’s two “relatives” were actually His Holiness the Pope and the leader of the Templars, she was so thrilled she nearly fainted.

Caligula’s presence here seemed to be an accident. Victor had brought him to learn the martial art as a test: was a “fool” with a Spirit attribute of seventeen a genius, or a genuine idiot?

“Boar received the Lord’s divine favor, and his grievous injuries were healed. To commemorate the sacred radiance of the Supreme Lord, I have already taken him as a retainer and bestowed upon him the Randall family name. He is now called Caligula Randell,” Victor explained with a smile.

This was a very powerful reason. The clergy present chanted in unison, “Praise be to our Lord.”

Marcy lowered her head in shame and knelt on the ground, praying piously, “Praise be to the supreme Lord of Radiance, may Your light shine upon the world forever.” She was the one who had beaten Boar to within an inch of his life. Although the life of a fool was as insignificant as an ant’s, the lord’s authority could not be challenged. If Boar had died on the spot, she feared even My Lady Lilia would not have chosen to protect her.

In Marcy’s eyes, Father Miller had saved not only Boar but also herself. And a priest’s glory belonged to the Lord.

Tournans’s gaze shifted to Narsen. He nodded and asked, “Stupid bear, what is strength?”

“You are strong,” Narsen said, his expression grave. The slight aura Tournans released was enough for him to feel an invisible pressure.

“You’re comparing yourself to me?” Tournans stared at the fully alert Narsen with amusement, then his smile faded as he barked, “Then you’re wrong!”

“Can a wolf speak of strength before a sabertooth tiger? A mammoth can crush a sabertooth tiger into paste with one stomp, and a white ape can tear a mammoth to shreds with ease. But in the water, it becomes food for a water lizard, while a beached water lizard is at the mercy of a wolf.”

“So-called strength can only be measured against oneself. You are stronger than you were, today is stronger than yesterday, and tomorrow will be stronger than today. If there must be a concrete standard…”

Tournans said grimly, “Survival measures strength!”

“You die, I live!” Narsen’s eyes lit up, and he said with a touch of smugness.

“It’s about surviving first… Also, don’t steal my lines. I’m the tutor now. You just listen quietly!”

“Oh.”

Tournans nodded in satisfaction and continued, “If you escape from the claws of a dragon, you’ll win nothing but heroic praise, provided you actually survive. And the reason for cultivating a secret martial art is to help you survive!”

“Therefore, the essence of a secret martial art is the conversion of space and time. You trade space for time, and time for space, striving to put your opponent in an unfavorable position while you gain an advantage in time and space.”

“Tutor, I don’t understand!” Narsen quickly raised his hand.

Victor smiled, thinking to himself: Well done, Narsen! I didn’t understand either…

This set of martial theory originated from the Church’s legacy, refined and summarized by countless Sacred Warrior masters, making it seem somewhat abstruse and obscure. But profound theories could make students respect their tutor’s teachings and remember the subsequent content firmly.

Tournans was already intimately familiar with this teaching method. Seeing the Randall nobles all listening with pricked ears made him feel smug. He waved a hand and said, “Let me give you an example.”

“Let’s say a junior Sacred Warrior encounters an Ogre Warlord. Does he have any chance of survival? He doesn’t want to die for nothing, so he has to struggle. A junior Sacred Warrior definitely can’t face a Gold rank monster head-on, so he can only choose to flee. He uses the Ogre’s build and the terrain to his advantage, maneuvering with the monster, trying to hide, trying to escape, trying to lead the Ogre into another monster’s territory so they fight and injure each other, while he escapes the danger and seeks support from a high-rank Sacred Warrior. For example, he finds me…” Tournans pointed to his own nose with his thumb and continued, “When I’ve slaughtered that monster, has the junior Sacred Warrior won? Is he considered strong? This is trading space for time. I must catch up to the Ogre before it escapes, first pinpointing its location, then taking a shortcut, running at full speed—all to close the distance between myself and the monster. This is trading time for space.”

“That makes sense…” Narsen stroked his chin, nodding repeatedly, then said hesitantly, “But that seems like tactics, not martial arts, right?”

If the student has doubts, I can use my fists to teach him the true meaning of martial arts!

“Come! Let’s spar!”

Tournans uncrossed his arms and jutted out his chin. “I’ll only use the speed and strength of an ordinary soldier. You use your full power!”

“Alright!” Narsen’s pupils contracted, his gaze as focused as a steel awl. His battle intent surged, completely unrestrained. He had grown strong through slaughter, his mind pure. Even knowing that Tournans was one of the top experts of the day and far beyond his match, he had to test the man’s mettle for himself.

The moment the words left his mouth, Narsen shifted his feet. Without bending his knees or swaying his shoulders, his movements were light and silent, as if he were sliding forward on air, making his next move impossible to predict.

Immediately after, a string of sharp pops erupted from within his body, like muffled thunder or the thrum of a bowstring. The muscles all over his body rippled like pythons, his bronze skin turned a dark, bluish-black hue, and his combat boots stomped violently on the ground. In an instant, he crossed a distance of five meters, his fist, bulging with veins, streaking like a meteor with unstoppable force, smashing heavily towards Tournans’s chest.

Even if a Giant Rhinoceros Beast stood before him, Narsen was confident he could knock it down with a single punch.

Tournans was no Giant Rhinoceros Beast, but in Narsen’s eyes, he continuously magnified, growing infinitely taller until he became a colossal giant that touched the heavens. Narsen’s heart lurched in shock. He saw the giant raise a hand and press down. The surrounding scenery spun and shattered, finally solidifying into the treetops and the blue sky.

Where am I? What happened? Narsen lay sprawled on the grass, thinking in confusion.

Victor’s face was as grim as still water, replaying the scene that had just unfolded frame by frame in his mind.

By the standards of Earth, Narsen was extraordinarily gifted, a martial arts prodigy seen once in a century. He had cultivated the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form and the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form to a profoundly high level, with the two forms showing faint signs of integration. His muscles, bones, and skin were tempered as one. With keen ears and sharp eyes, his reactions were swift, no less impressive than a knight who had achieved mind-body unity.

Although he hadn’t used the Vibration Secret Technique to burst with power, that punch had a magnificent, unstoppable momentum. But at the most critical moment, he had hesitated. In that single instant, Tournans had retreated half a step, advanced half a step, and pressed a palm on Narsen’s shoulder. Then all of Narsen’s strength dissipated, and he was sent tumbling away.

Why did Narsen hesitate? That’s not in his character…

“Stupid bear, do you understand now?” said Tournans. “You’re stronger and faster than me. I couldn’t block your punch, nor could I parry in time. So I took a step back, using space to buy time to act. Then I took a step forward, using time to negate your space to react. I hit you first, broke your balance, and made you take a big fall.” He paused, then said seriously, “If I were your enemy, holding an adamantine dagger, wouldn’t you be dead already?”

“A life-and-death struggle is often decided in a single blow!”

Fights that were back-and-forth and spectacular were performances. Real combat had no connection to being aesthetically pleasing. It was like a heavyweight boxer and a lightweight boxer, fighting to the death without protective gear. They would circle each other, constantly probing, with victory and defeat decided in the single instant of contact.

The heavyweight boxer’s weight gave him a huge advantage, but if his opponent landed a blow to a vital spot on his head, even a brief moment of dizziness would make it nearly impossible to recover. And fighting skill is precisely what manifests as the competition for time and space.

The martial techniques of elite soldiers are all basic stabs, slashes, chops, blocks, and footwork, drilled a thousand times over to form conditioned reflexes of Speed, Precision, and Power—unremarkable but immensely lethal.

One cultivates martial arts to preserve oneself and slay the enemy. Tournans’s theory of time-space exchange had hit upon the very essence of martial arts.

Victor admitted that Tournans’s insight was sharp, but right now he was more focused on Narsen’s abnormal reaction. If Narsen hadn’t hesitated then, he at least wouldn’t have lost so completely.

Had Tournans really used only mortal means to gain an advantage in time and space?

“Narsen, why did you hesitate just now?” Victor asked, voicing the doubt in his mind.

“I suddenly felt that Lord Tournans had become as tall as a castle, and I was like an ant before him… Was it an illusion?” Narsen shook his head, then stared wide-eyed at the legendary Sacred Warrior, a look of dawning realization on his face. “My lord, did you use a divine art?!”

Tournans rolled his eyes and said dismissively, “I said I’d only use the level of an ordinary soldier. Would I trick a stupid bear like you? That wasn’t a divine art. It was the power of the mind.” He smacked his lips and added, “Everyone has the power of the mind; it can’t be considered an extraordinary ability.” He grumbled to himself inwardly:

If I hadn’t used the power of the mind, there’s no way I could have subdued the Bear of the Northlands with just the strength of an ordinary soldier.

Chapter 389: The Infinite Mind (Part 1)

“Power of the mind?”

Victor’s ears immediately perked up.

Tournans’ strength had been personally affirmed by Sylvia. He was widely recognized by the strong as the First Sacred Warrior, and he was also the most renowned Ferocious warrior of the current age. It was said that even without using divine arts, his combat strength was comparable to that of a Gold Knight.

This was not just an empty rumor.

Tournans’ most famous battle took place twenty-one years ago. The Knights of Naville, in conjunction with the clergy, planned a military operation aimed at annihilating an Ogre tribe. The allied forces were well-prepared. After more than half a month of pursuit and interception, the Knights and clergy had eliminated most of the Ogre tribe’s members. At that point, King Rex of Naville demanded a one-on-one duel with the Ogre tribe’s chief, intending to use the Ogre Warlord’s head to build his own fame. But the monster was far more powerful and cunning than anyone imagined. It actually managed to break through the encirclement during a lull in the fighting.

Not only was Rex utterly humiliated, but he had also stirred up a huge mess. An Ogre Warlord, freed from the ties of its tribe, was a lingering nightmare for the subjects of the Kingdom of Naville. Fuming with shame and anger, Rex led the Sword Mantis Knights in a relentless pursuit of the Ogre Warlord, but the monster’s wild intuition led it to choose a weak point in the encirclement as its escape route.

And then, it ran into a squad of Sacred Warriors.

The Captain of the Sacred Warrior squad was a level-four mid-rank Sacred Warrior. In theory, a level-four Sacred Warrior was equivalent to an elementary Knight who could resonate with twelve Elemental Nodes. Facing a self-enraged, berserk Ogre Warlord, he and his teammates seemed to have no chance of victory.

However, Rex and his Sword Mantis Knights witnessed with their own eyes as the Sacred Warrior Captain, wielding a heavy flail, launched a counter-charge against the berserk Ogre Warlord. As they passed each other, the heavy flail transformed into a vicious streak of dark light, first shattering the Ogre Warlord’s left kneecap, then blasting its head into pieces.

The Ogre Warlord was killed in a single blow by a mid-rank Sacred Warrior.

That Sacred Warrior was none other than Tournans.

Because of this incident, King Rex and Tournans became the closest of friends. When he asked Tournans how he did it, Tournans said only one thing: “It underestimated me.”

The implication was that the Ogre Warlord had died due to carelessness, not because Rex lacked strength. Rex, however, never let it go; he had been played by a monster, also due to carelessness.

Three years ago, in coordination with a military operation by the Radiant Knights, Rex led the Sword Mantis Knights north out of Giantstone Fortress and personally slew an Ogre Warlord. He even hired Bards to sing of his deed throughout the kingdoms. He did this, most likely, to vent the pent-up frustration from that day long ago.

The suspicious part was, how did Tournans manage to deceive the Ogre Warlord’s wild intuition?

Wild intuition was, in essence, a creature’s premonition of danger. Most ferocious creatures possessed wild intuition, its acuity inversely proportional to their intelligence and directly proportional to their level of savagery. A typical ferocious intelligent creature had almost no sudden flashes of intuition about danger, whereas a ferocious beast could sense danger coming even days in advance.

In fact, wild intuition could be categorized under the domain of prophecy, and prophecy, in turn, was tied to future destiny. It could be roughly divided into three types.

The first type was prophecy that could not change the future; the second was prophecy that brought the future into being; the third was prophecy where the outcome could be changed.

The first, fated type of prophecy was meaningless. The Great Divination art possessed by the Pope and the Pontiff belonged to the second type; if not for its various limitations, the Great Divination would be comparable to the divine ability to make words into law. Wild intuition, however, belonged to the third type—prophecy with a changeable outcome.

Given the example of Great Divination, it was clear that wild intuition was an ability of an extremely high order—an extraordinary ability, and a terrifying one at that.

Whoever could accurately predict danger and plan ahead would be invincible!

Beasts and monsters had keen intuition, but they did not know how to plan, nor could they suppress their instincts and change their behavior, so they were often hunted and killed by intelligent beings, which invisibly diminished the value of wild intuition.

X-3’s meticulous logical capabilities allowed Victor to deduce two conclusions from Tournans’ legendary tale: he could shield himself from the Ogre Warlord’s wild intuition, and he had foreseen the Ogre Warlord’s actions in advance.

This meant that Tournans had completed the entire process, from predicting danger to planning and arranging, and finally to changing the outcome.

No wonder Sylvia acknowledged Tournans as a powerhouse on par with a Spirit Knight. No wonder the combination of Clement and Tournans represented humanity’s strongest fighting force, not the Pope and the First Paladin, Nachtigal.

The Ogre Warlord had not died in vain.

Across the entire human world, there were probably only three famous figures who could kill Tournans: Sylvia, Clement, and the Pope. In theory, there was a fourth: Victor.

Victor, of course, would not joke about his own small life, but the Golden Toad Mystic Form’s Life Concealment did indeed have the effect of shielding against wild intuition. This was consistent with Tournans’ ability!

Narsen grew up in a mercenary company. He’s a battle-hardened warrior, pure of heart and tough of will. For Tournans to be able to silently shake his resolve, and still claim it isn’t an extraordinary power? Heh… He says everyone has the power of the mind, and I believe that, but to say the power of the mind isn’t an extraordinary power is probably him being disingenuous… Also, Sylvia said Tournans uses the Single-Hand Flower Bloom to train his power of the mind… Single-Hand Flower Bloom is more magical than a magic trick, how could it not be an extraordinary power?

The Golden Toad Mystic Form originates from the field of ancient Huaxian mysticism. The fact that X-3’s developers loaded the Golden Toad Mystic Form is proof enough that it’s not some charlatan’s trickery. I’ve already verified its effects, although its efficacy is somewhat lacking, suggesting it might be more boast than substance.

Assuming Tournans used the power of the mind to block the Ogre Warlord’s intuition, then this power has effects similar to the Golden Toad Mystic Form. Does this mean the Golden Toad Mystic Form is also a secret art of the mind in this world? Is it because the world’s laws are different? Is the Golden Toad Mystic Form unsuited for this world and needs to be modified?

The Church has a legacy stretching back thousands of years; it’s not surprising they would possess secret arts for training the power of the mind. It seems the method to modify the Golden Toad Mystic Form lies with Tournans… But what if the Golden Toad Mystic Form is related to bloodline purification? If I bring it up to ask for advice, I’ll lose out big time, and it could cause huge trouble! I can’t take that risk. I should try to learn from the Church’s research on the power of the mind and first figure out what it even is.

A multitude of thoughts raced through Victor’s mind, and for a moment, he became preoccupied with the potential gains and losses.

When Alchemy Tower #7 was activated, the Tower Spirit King extracted the three great Mystic Forms from X-3, creating the Crouching Ox Militiaman and the Lithe Ape militiaman, but it was unable to load the Golden Toad Mystic Form onto the Alchemical humans. This filled Victor with anticipation for the Golden Toad Mystic Form, but he was at a loss. If the Golden Toad Mystic Form was related to the power of the mind, then based on what Tournans had just demonstrated, an Alchemical warrior loaded with it would become exceptionally powerful.

Of course, for the Alchemy Tower to generate new skills, the memory upload function had to be repaired first. But besides the Alchemical militia, Victor also had many ordinary Guards under his command, and he himself wanted to master stronger extraordinary powers.

Victor was itching with curiosity, but he clearly wasn’t the only one in a hurry. Narsen’s eyes gleamed as he shouted at Tournans, “Tutor, teach me the power of the mind!”

Good question, Narsen!

Victor was secretly overjoyed. Lilia and Marcy seemed to feel the same way; their gazes toward Narsen were filled with appreciation and gratitude. Nicole stood quietly by Victor’s side, her expression slightly curious. A Knight’s path was different from a Sacred Warrior’s, but the opportunity to hear Tournans himself expound on power was rare. It couldn’t hurt to listen. As for Beldina and Caligula, one was eating snacks, while the other was staring at the snacks with longing eyes.

Tournans was inwardly blooming with joy. He loved being a Bishop, especially teaching great Nobles. Unfortunately, true great Nobles were all High-ranked Knights, and they had little interest in the training methods of Sacred Warriors. If the conversation turned to other matters, Tournans could only listen from the sidelines.

Viscount Randall was different, however. Just from his posture, Tournans could tell the young viscount was listening with rapt attention. He decided to thoroughly enjoy this moment. He carefully recalled the process through which his mentor had imparted the power of the mind to him and said with a solemn expression, “You must first understand what the power of the mind is.”

“Everyone possesses the power of the mind. The human body is limited, but the mind is infinite. An infinite power of the mind holds infinite possibilities…” He paused, then pointed to a leaf on the ground. “Narsen, your power of the mind is far beyond that of an ordinary person. You can try to use your power of the mind to pick up that leaf.”

“How is that possible?” Narsen stared at the leaf ten meters away, shaking his head repeatedly.

“Stupid bear, do you want to learn or not!” Tournans put on a stern face and scolded him.

“Brother, just give it a try,” Lilia said, half encouraging, half threatening.

Victor said nothing, merely giving Narsen a slight nod.

Narsen took a deep breath, clenched his jaw, and stared intently at the leaf. The muscles all over his body tensed, their lines exceptionally thick, and the veins beneath his skin bulged. His heart pounded like a drum, like a volcano about to erupt, a terrifying strength seeming ready to surge forth at any moment.

One second, two seconds, three… ten seconds passed. A light breeze swept by, and the motionless leaf finally stirred. Narsen was overjoyed. He stretched out his palm and, using every ounce of his strength, focused on the leaf. The bones throughout his body crackled, and he seemed to swell in size.

Caligula strode over, picked up the leaf, and carefully placed it in Narsen’s palm.

“What are you doing?” Narsen looked up, bewildered.

“Giving you the leaf,” Caligula said with a silly grin. After a moment, he added, “You were working hard. I helped you get it.”

“You idiot! You’ve ruined everything!”

Narsen and Tournans, exasperated, yelled in unison, then stared at each other, wide-eyed.

The two high-ranking clergy finally couldn’t hold it in and burst out laughing. The Pontiff, too, couldn’t help but smile. Victor, a hint of understanding dawning on him, asked with a tinge of unwillingness, “Your Holiness, is this the power of the mind?”

Clement glanced at the dejected Tournans and smiled. “Let Tournans explain it to you.”

Tournans’ spirits lifted. He said to Narsen, “Let me demonstrate for you how to use the power of the mind to pick up a leaf from the ground.” Then, he bent down and picked up a leaf from the ground.

“It’s that simple?” Narsen’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“What did you expect? That the leaf would fly into my hand on its own?” Tournans chuckled.

Victor shook his head and sighed, saying with disappointment, “My lord, that’s what I was thinking too…”

What happened to changing reality? What happened to telekinesis?

Lilia and Marcy both lowered their heads to hide their expressions from Lord Tournans, expressions that clearly said “liar.”

“People often overlook the mysteries hidden in ordinary things.”

Tournans shook his head and said faintly, “The body is finite, but the mind is infinite. To use the infinite mind to control the finite body and achieve infinite possibilities—that is the power of the mind. I wanted the leaf on the ground, so I walked over, picked it up, and I got the leaf.”

“Making a leaf fly into your palm is something an Extraordinary Knight can do. Victor, you can do it too.” Tournans asked, “But would you do it that way?”

Victor thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No. Picking it up is simpler and requires less effort.”

“Only by knowing oneself can one change reality,” Tournans said. “You want a wooden cabin. The cabin won’t appear out of thin air. You fell trees and build it, and then you have a wooden cabin. The power of the mind has changed reality, and reality includes our very selves.”

“Phoenix wanted to become a Knight. You practiced martial arts since you were young, honed your will, activated your knight’s bloodline, constantly polished your Aura, and in a trial of life and death, you slew an Ogre and finally became a Knight.”

Nicole gave a faint smile and curtsied gracefully to Tournans.

“Lilia wanted to become more beautiful and charming. You took beauty potions, paid attention to exercise and skincare. Are you not more beautiful now than before?”

Lilia lowered her head, her cheeks flushing crimson.

Tournans then turned to Narsen and asked, “You wanted to become stronger. You train your body and practice your martial skills every day. How are you now compared to before?”

Narsen clenched his fist and nodded. “Yes, I am much stronger than before.”

“Everyone wants to be strong, but why do some people constantly change themselves, while others achieve nothing?”

Without waiting for an answer, Tournans continued, “Fear of hardship, fear of fatigue, laziness, stupidity, a weak will—these are actually all superficial symptoms. The fundamental reason is that their power of the mind is too weak to change reality.”

“Let me give you an example.” Tournans raised a finger and wagged it. “When a Nightblade Panther appears behind them, some people faint from fright, some find their limbs go weak and can’t move, some feel their hair stand on end and flee without looking back, while others erupt with astonishing strength, turn to fight back, and fight for their life in the face of death.”

“Obviously, the last type of person has the strongest power of the mind.”

Tournans said with a smile, “Narsen, you are that last type of person, because you are a Ferocious warrior. Someone who dares to fight a savage beast, who strikes back the moment they sense danger—isn’t that person ferocious?” As he spoke, his gaze swept over Marcy, who was next to Lilia.

Marcy’s heart skipped a beat. In the past, when she faced an opponent and felt something was off, she too would attack directly, without a moment’s hesitation.

“Wait, so a person with a strong power of the mind is a Ferocious warrior?” Victor seemed to have grasped the main point.

“Good question.” Tournans nodded and said, “A Ferocious warrior possesses a beast-like acute intuition, able to perceive danger and make the most correct judgment. For example, when targeted by a Nightblade Panther, a person with a strong mind might dare to fight back, but it might not be effective. A Ferocious warrior’s counterattack, however, will be more effective; he will instinctively execute precise movements. This is almost an innate ability. On average, there is only one Ferocious warrior for every seven thousand people.”

“That’s not right,” Narsen said, shaking his head. “My intuition for danger used to be very sharp, but later on, it wasn’t. I once charged an ant swarm and almost died.”

“That’s because you’ve directed your power of the mind toward shaping your body and martial skills,” Tournans interjected. “Ferocious beings among the intelligent races are almost all like this. You worried about your comrades’ safety, and you felt ashamed to flee danger alone. Shame led to anger, and anger made you ignore danger and crave greater strength. As a result, your physique grew stronger and stronger, while your intuition for danger grew weaker and weaker.”

Wild intuition was clearly more valuable than a powerful physique. Victor cut in, “Lord Tournans, how can Narsen’s problem be solved?”

Chapter 390: Infinite Mind (Part 2)

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“The power of the mind can be trained.”

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Tournans stood with his arms crossed, giving off an impression of perfect, condensed completeness, as if there were no opening to exploit.

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“Before we begin, you must first understand the three types of human power, and the three levels of the power of the mind.”

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“The first type of human power is the power of the muscles—running, jumping, lifting, punching, kicking, and so on. It is under a person’s control and can directly affect the outside world, so we can call it external force.”

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“Now, do you know that besides external force, humans possess another power that lies somewhere between controllable and uncontrollable?” Tournans asked suddenly, a mysterious smile playing on his lips, as if to say, ‘Go on, ask me!’

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Narsen, as expected, asked, “What power?”

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“The power of the internal organs! The power of growth! The power of life!” Tournans was very pleased with Narsen’s astuteness. He raised his voice, speaking with resonant power, “The beating of the heart, the breathing of the lungs, the digestion and absorption of the stomach and intestines—all belong to this power. It is innate, governing a person’s development and growth, resistance to disease, and the healing of wounds. It is also closely related to external force, able to grant a person a burst of strength or make them more agile. It represents a person’s inner potential, and so it is called internal force.”

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“Internal force determines external force, and it is far greater. However, internal force is difficult to control. Most mortals go their entire lives only ever tapping into a small fraction of their inner potential. Their lifespans don’t even reach two-thirds of their natural limit.”

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Tournans paused for a moment, then continued, “The third human power is, of course, the power of the mind. The mind is infinite, but it cannot exist without the body. We Sacred Warriors believe that a person’s inner potential is the source of the mind’s power, and external force is its expression. By cultivating all three forces, we use the body to foster the development of the mind’s power, and use the mind’s power to continuously unearth our own potential, ultimately reaching the limits of both body and mind.”

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“So that’s how it is…” Narsen nodded, then asked with a frown, “Tutor, didn’t you say the body is limited, but the mind is infinite? How can the power of the mind have a limit then?”

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Tournans nodded. “The body has its limits. No matter how much you train, you can’t turn yourself into a Dragon or a Goblin. The mind is infinite. When I speak of the mind’s limit, I am referring to the realms of a Sacred Warrior’s power of the mind.”

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“The first realm of the power of the mind is the Fire of the Mind, which ignites one’s inner and outer self and illuminates the body.”

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“The Fire of the Mind first guides the body’s growth, strengthening one’s physique, enhancing physical capabilities, and heightening all senses like sight, hearing, and smell. Then, it can coordinate the inner and outer self, allowing one to freely control emotions like anger, fear, despair, rage, and bloodlust, stimulating inner potential and converting it into powerful external force.”

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Tournans’s eyes turned blood-red, and a bloody sheen appeared on his dark skin. An aura of bloodthirsty rage washed over them.

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Lilia turned pale with fright. Marcy took a step back, positioning herself protectively in front of her mistress, tense and on guard like a leopard with its fur on end.

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Narsen’s eyes were feverish with excitement as he asked, “My lord, isn’t that a monster’s innate ability?”

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“It’s somewhat similar. But a monster’s innate ability is stronger and lasts longer. The Fire of the Mind, however, seeks the coexistence of reason and emotion.” Tournans’s voice was as calm as ever. The bloody light faded from his pupils, and his skin returned to its normal color. “I was just showing you the inner and outer forces. In truth, maintaining that state is very damaging to the body. Normally, during a battle, I can maintain calm and rational judgment while also stimulating my inner potential to instantly erupt with powerful and precise force, like this…”

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He stomped his foot, and the grassy ground seemed to turn to cream, his combat boot sinking into it without a sound.

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“The Fire of the Mind imitates a Knight’s ability to unify body and mind.”

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Tournans lifted his boot and took a step forward, leaving a deep footprint in the ground. “Narsen, your physique and strength are comparable to an initial-rank Silver Knight, but you haven’t yet reached the level where the Fire of the Mind illuminates your body. In terms of real combat, I’m afraid you’re still no match for Her Excellency Phoenix.”

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Nicole gave a reserved smile, completely agreeing with Tournans’s conclusion. She was a senior knight who had resonated with twenty-four Elemental Nodes, only a step away from the Silver-rank.

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Narsen’s mouth twitched, his expression a little dejected. The judgment of a Legendary Sacred Warrior could not be wrong.

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“Of course, once you fully master the Fire of the Mind, you’ll immediately have the combat power of a Silver Knight.” Tournans offered a word of comfort before changing the subject. “If your power of the mind enters the second realm, the Gold rank will open its doors to you.”

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“The Touch of the Mind is the second stage of the power of the mind. Wild intuition falls within the scope of the Touch of the Mind’s abilities, but it is merely its foundation.”

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Tournans paused for a moment before saying lightly, “There is a squirrel in the tree seventeen meters behind me, about fourteen meters off the ground.”

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Victor looked over. The X-3 automatically compared the environment and caught the movement, immediately spotting a chipmunk hidden in the treetop.

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“There is a squirrel…” Victor nodded, unable to resist asking, “My lord Tournans, did you hear a sound?”

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“I don’t have your powers of discernment.” Tournans shook his head and said, “It was just peeking at me. It touched my mind, and my mind touched it in return.”

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“The Touch of the Mind isn’t limited to perceiving danger; I can sense any gaze that falls upon me. Beyond that, the Touch of the Mind can also touch an opponent’s mind, blocking their intuition. If taken a step further, it can shake an opponent’s mind, causing their perception and emotions to deviate.”

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Tournans grinned. “Stupid bear, do you know why I seemed to grow larger just now? It’s because I was treating you like an ant, and my power of the mind affected your senses. The effect is related to the opponent’s own power of the mind, but even the faintest interference can create a huge advantage in battle. And the interference from the Touch of the Mind is completely passive, active throughout the entire fight.”

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“This is a clash of combat wills! And the highest realm of the Touch of the Mind is to touch external objects as if they were part of yourself!”

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Tournans picked up a half-open flower bud. Its pink petals unfurled one by one, the bud blooming silently in his palm.

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Everyone sucked in a cold breath. Narsen was dumbfounded, stammering, “My Lord… that’s practically a miracle!”

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“Single-Hand Flower Bloom…” Victor murmured.

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“The flower in my hand is like my own flesh and blood. I willed it to open, so it opened.” Tournans turned his palm over, letting the bloomed flower drift to the ground. He looked up and said, “The Touch of the Mind is similar to a Gold Knight’s Elemental Insight. The spiritual power of Gold Knights is incredibly strong; they can perceive all elemental changes within a radius of eight hundred meters. If you were losing blood, your emotions were fluctuating wildly, or your heart was beating faster… a Gold Knight would immediately know your condition and location. The Touch of the Mind, on the other hand, is a kind of mental intuition. Any interaction with the power of the mind touches one’s own. Compared to Elemental Insight, its perception range is narrower, and it’s harder to grasp a target’s condition, but it is extremely precise in locking onto a target, and its abilities are more subtle.”

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“Elemental Insight is like a net, while the Touch of the Mind is like a thread connecting two parties.” Tournans said proudly, “The Touch of the Mind is definitely a Gold-rank ability.”

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Victor was silent for a moment before asking, “My lord Tournans, can an ordinary person also master the Touch of the Mind?”

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Tournans replied, “An ordinary person can, at most, reach the level of the Fire of the Mind. Wild intuition is the foundation of the Touch of the Mind. Only a Ferocious warrior whose power of the mind is naturally sharp has a chance of mastering it.”

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“Then… what about… me?” Narsen asked, pointing to his own nose and stammering.

Tournans burst out laughing and stepped forward to pat his shoulder. “Stupid bear! Work hard. I have high hopes for you.”

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Narsen broke into a wide grin, as radiant as a blooming flower. The two high-ranking clergy behind the Pope, however, looked unconvinced. Cultivating the Touch of the Mind required talent, but even more so, it required luck. Of all the Savage state Sacred Warriors in the Church, only Tournans had reached the highest realm of the Touch of the Mind.

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Victor asked in a low voice, “My lord Tournans, what is the third level of the power of the mind?”

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“I don’t know.”

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“You don’t know?”

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“Yes.” Tournans nodded and explained, “The Sacred Warrior legacy has been passed down for nine thousand years, and no one has ever reached the third level of the power of the mind.” He pondered for a moment before adding with certainty, “But the third level of the power of the mind truly exists.”

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“Watch closely!” Tournans took a few steps back and stood firmly on the lawn. His pupils turned platinum-gold. Platinum-gold runes materialized on his forehead, shoulders, chest, and arms, gradually forming a pattern of strange beauty. A sacred and majestic aura, as vast as the abyss and the sea, washed over the minds of every spectator. The fallen leaves, broken blades of grass, and flower petals on the ground all floated into the air, circling around the Legendary Sacred Warrior.

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This was telekinesis! Interference with reality!

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Victor’s eyes went vacant as he directly entered the Apocalypse state. His extraordinary Perception and the X-3’s microscopic-level insight allowed him to completely grasp every change in the surrounding environment, but he detected neither the presence of wind nor the manifestation of the void element.

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“Praise to our Lord!”

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The Pope and the high-ranking clergy recited in unison. The others, snapping out of their daze, hurriedly made the sign of the Radiant Holy Mountain on their chests and joined in, “Praise to the Supreme Lord, may Your radiance forever shine upon the world.”

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The platinum patterns faded into his skin, and the Legendary Sacred Warrior’s pupils returned to their original brown. The suspended flower petals and blades of grass all fluttered down. He let out a long breath and said, “The third level of the power of the mind can directly interfere with reality. It’s a height unattainable by human effort alone; it can only be grasped through the grace of the Supreme Lord.”

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“Once the power of the mind reaches the third level, one becomes a Sanctuary-rank expert!”

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“My lord, are you a Sanctuary-rank expert?” Victor asked, looking at the gleaming bald Sacred Warrior with utter shock.

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“He’s still a long way off.” Pope Clement smiled faintly, his tone gentle. “A Fifth-level Sacred Warrior is equivalent to an initial-rank Silver. A Sixth-level Sacred Warrior barely crosses the threshold of the Gold rank. Tournans’s talent is exceptional, and he himself works very hard, which is how he achieved the strength of the Legendary-rank. Only a Seventh-level Sacred Warrior, one who can wield the power of the Radiant God of War, can be considered a Sanctuary-rank expert.”

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Clement sighed softly. “For nine thousand years, Sacred Warriors have fought against evil, wave after wave, not hesitating to sacrifice themselves, yet not a single one has ever stepped into the halls of the seventh level…”

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Tournans crossed his arms over his chest and recited with a solemn expression, “When all is dark, only Radiance endures!”

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Advancing to a higher rank requires a massive amount of combat-related Divine Favor. The brutal fighting gives Sacred Warriors generally shorter lifespans, and the vast majority sacrifice themselves before they can accumulate enough Divine Favor to advance to the seventh level. Add to that the ever-shrinking Pool of Holy Power, and there was no way a Sacred Warrior would advance before a high-ranking clergy member.

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However, the New Agro-husbandry and the great pioneering efforts would spur rapid population growth, which would in turn expand the Pool of Holy Power. With Tournans’s strength and lifespan, it wasn’t impossible for him to become the first Seventh-level Sacred Warrior.

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Nicole stepped forward, performed a Knight’s salute, and asked, “My lord Tournans, if the Touch of the Mind corresponds to a Gold Knight’s Elemental Insight, then what ability of a Sanctuary-rank Knight corresponds to the third level of the power of the mind?”

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“There has never been a Sanctuary-rank Sacred Warrior, nor a Sanctuary-rank Knight. How would I know what abilities a Sanctuary-rank Knight has?” Tournans shrugged.

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“Ah, my apologies, my lord. That was reckless of me,” Nicole said, looking slightly embarrassed.

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Tournans shook his head. “In fact, once you reach the Legendary-rank, Knights can no longer be compared to us. Although we are on the same path, our directions are completely opposite. Knights walk backward, seeking the origin Laws of the world, while we Sacred Warriors follow the origin Laws forward. Once a Knight steps into the legendary realm, our paths no longer intersect.”

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Hearing this, Victor had a sudden realization. He finally understood where the problem with his Golden Toad Mystic Form lay.

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In fact, the theories of the mind from Earth and the Church’s power of the mind had many points of convergence.

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For instance, the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form’s cultivation of both internal and external, and the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form’s “facing an enemy is like being set on fire” both aligned with the Fire of the Mind. The highest realm of the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form, “the cicada senses the autumn wind before it blows,” was similar to wild intuition. Furthermore, the ancient Huaxia story of ‘Cook Ding Cutting an Ox’ contained the description, “the senses stop, but the spirit moves as it desires,” which means one doesn’t need to see with the eyes; it’s as if the sensory organs have ceased to function, and one acts based on spiritual will alone. Cook Ding’s divine skill perfectly corroborated Tournans’s Touch of the Mind.

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However, the origin Laws of the two worlds were different, after all. At the higher levels of the power of the mind, a clear divergence could be seen.

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The Golden Toad Mystic Form belonged to a higher level!

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There was a phrase in the Mystic Form: “To follow the path is to become mortal, to reverse it is to become immortal; it all lies in the inversion of yin and yang.” The Golden Toad Mystic Form emphasized “outer movement with inner stillness, outer stillness with inner movement.” When Victor was in the state of Life Concealment, his body was like a dead object while his spirit was lively. In this state of stillness and movement, he pursued the realm of Oneness with nature, which was, in essence, exploring the origin Laws of the world.

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However, the origin of this world was the Elemental Sea, and it only opened its doors to the knight’s bloodline!

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Moreover, the nature of the Elemental Sea was extremely tyrannical. As Knights traveled upstream, the deeper they went into the Elemental Sea, the more they changed toward a passionless state of “celestial being,” which forced High-ranked Knights to rebuild their humanity, gradually leading to the peculiar concept of a Knight’s companion.

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The Golden Toad Mystic Form simply couldn’t find the gate to the Elemental Sea. Even if it did, the result would be instant annihilation.

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The only option now was to advance along the path of the power of the mind… Victor sighed silently and asked, “My lord Tournans, how should we temper the power of our minds?”

Chapter 391: Improving the Secret Arts (Part 1)

“Everyone, consciously or unconsciously, trains their power of the mind, but few truly achieve anything with it. They are often masters in their respective fields: painters, bards, singers, scholars, craftsmen, hunters, and… assassins.”

Tournans stroked his chin and said, “To put it simply, the principle behind training the mind is to make your thoughts reality. This isn’t about daydreaming your way to success, but about taking real action. By relentlessly and diligently pursuing your goals, constantly elevating your ambitions through arduous study and practice, every self-transcendence becomes a tempering of the mind. And the power of the mind, in turn, feeds back into the body.”

“I will only discuss the methods for a warrior to train their mind…” Tournans paused, then suddenly asked, “Who was it that modified the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form?”

Narsen’s expression faltered, and he couldn’t help but glance at Victor.

“I was the one who modified it,” Victor admitted readily with a faint smile.

“A fine modification!” Tournans said, not at all surprised, and grinned. “The Mystic Form Narsen created is only suitable for Ferocious Warriors. If an ordinary person were to practice the original Ox-Subduing Mystic Form, they would surely suffer severe injuries.”

Tournans’s martial skill was god-like. From Narsen’s every move, whether sitting, lying, walking, or standing, he had detected two completely new secret martial arts, which had piqued his interest immensely. Following Victor’s instructions, Narsen had pleaded with Tournans to merge and improve the Ox-Subduing, Spirit Monkey, and Vibration secret arts into a new secret martial art.

Narsen claimed to have created all three secret martial arts himself, but Tournans didn’t believe him for a second.

The Ox-Subduing Mystic Form and the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form had similar training methods but completely different effects; it was impossible for them to have been created by the same person.

As for the Vibration Secret Technique, Tournans recognized it at a glance as The Throat-slitter’s combat technique. He had once represented the Church in personally examining the body of a noble with an elven bloodline who had been murdered by The Throat-slitter. The characteristics of the wound were a result of this astonishingly lethal Burst technique.

The matter of Raymond, the eldest son of the Peter family, hiring The Throat-slitter to assassinate nobles with elven bloodlines had caused a massive stir. After successfully assassinating the Queen of Sus’s elven-blooded lover, The Throat-slitter had vanished without a trace.

The moment Tournans saw Narsen demonstrate the three secret arts, an idea immediately formed in his mind.

The Ox-Subduing Mystic Form trained strength and Physique, pursuing explosive power, but it caused great damage to the muscles, bones, and internal organs. An ordinary person practicing the original version would either die or be grievously injured; only a Ferocious Warrior like Narsen could rely on his tough physique to practice it so brutishly. The Spirit Monkey Mystic Form, on the other hand, emphasized hand-eye coordination and trained agility and balance. Even an ordinary person could practice it, which suited the disposition of a Wind Walk Archer perfectly.

Narsen had invented the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form. Based on its training methods, Victor had then created the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form and simplified both so that ordinary soldiers could practice them. The Throat-slitter had infiltrated the Centaur Hills to assassinate Viscount Randell but had been captured alive by Victor, who had then interrogated him to learn the Vibration Secret Technique.

Based on the characteristics of the martial arts, Tournans had pieced together this convoluted and bizarre secret, and he felt an indescribable sense of smugness. Clement, however, had forbidden him from trying to confirm it with Viscount Randell. The murder of Queen Cynthia’s lover was tied to the entanglements between House Elayanuo and the great houses of Sus. The inside story was exceedingly complex—a complete mess. Since Viscount Randell himself was playing deaf and dumb, there was no need to bring it into the open.

Having uncovered such a secret with his own intellect, yet being unable to show it off, Tournans was itching with curiosity. He couldn’t resist dropping a hint to Victor—he mentioned assassins and the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form, but deliberately omitted the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form and the Vibration Secret Technique.

He believed that with Viscount Randell’s intelligence, he would surely understand the reason.

Viscount Randell was able to create the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form and simplify the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form. With such intelligence, only a little inferior to my own, how could he possibly not understand my hint?

Unfortunately, he overestimated the subtlety of his hint. Who could possibly understand the meaning behind such a random, out-of-context remark?

“My lord, Narsen and I tried to merge the three secret arts and failed repeatedly, yet you completed the new secret art in just thirty days. We are truly far inferior to you,” Victor said with a flattering tone.

Thoroughly satisfied, Tournans shot him a look that said, “I know you understood,” and said with a reserved smile, “The Vibration Secret Technique uses internal potential to cause high-speed muscle vibration. It can be said to have touched upon the mystery of integrating the internal and external. Its power is immense, but it’s not a complete system and can only be used by Ferocious Warriors. Therefore, it’s merely average.”

“The Ox-Subduing and Spirit Monkey Mystic Forms are another matter, especially the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form. It has methods for tempering the Physique and also includes combat techniques, possessing a complete training system. The most brilliant part is that it relies on different stances and breathing methods to achieve its training goals. Oh, right, you call the stances ‘Stance practice’…” Tournans said with admiration, “The training method of Stance practice is ingenious; it was a real eye-opener for me… But the most amazing thing about the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form is its ability to strengthen the internal organs and enhance one’s internal potential!”

“Do you understand the significance of this?” Tournans said, his gaze burning. “This is the first time I have ever seen a secret martial art that can train one’s internal potential. The Ox-Subduing Mystic Form is an unprecedented secret martial art of inestimable value!”

Tournans turned to Narsen and nodded in praise. “Narsen, you are truly remarkable. The Ox-Subduing Mystic Form will be of great help to the Sacred Warriors. I will give you a generous reward as the Church’s prize for your contribution of this Mystic Form.”

“Ah…” Narsen was slow to react. He had firmly believed the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form was an excellent secret martial art, but he had never expected Tournans to rate it so highly.

“This is Narsen’s honor,” Victor said, stepping forward and giving Narsen a push from behind.

“Er… The Spirit Monkey Mystic Form trains hand-eye coordination, aims directly for the unity of body and mind, can be practiced by ordinary people, and has greater practical combat application than the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form. It is also an outstanding secret martial art.” Tournans was now looking at Victor with great approval, unstinting in his praise for the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form he had created.

Victor smiled. He could tell that Tournans’s evaluation of the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form was clearly not as high as his evaluation of the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form.

Do all Ferocious Warriors idolize muscle?

Tournans continued, “Both the Ox-Subduing and Spirit Monkey Mystic Forms have a flaw.”

“The time required to practice the Mystic Forms is too long! For a soldier to increase their combat effectiveness by practicing them is completely impractical.” He pursed his lips and added, “It’s fine for Nobles to use the Mystic Forms to train their bodies and temper their minds, though.”

For an ordinary person to practice Stance practice, they needed to coordinate it with visualization, supplemented by medicinal decoctions and a strict diet. They had to practice diligently for four hours a day, year-round, for more than a decade just to achieve minor success. If they sought quick results, not only would they fail to reach the ultimate state, but it would also be harmful to their bodies. By the time a practitioner trained the Stance practice to a profound level, they would be nearly fifty, their vitality in decline and their physical functions past their peak. In terms of combat strength, they would likely be inferior to an elite warrior who lived on the edge of a blade.

With such a high cost to practice the Mystic Forms, were they training soldiers or martial artists?

There’s an old saying in Huaxia: “Scholarship for the poor, martial arts for the rich.” The poor were trapped by the need to survive and had neither the time nor the resources to practice martial arts. So did the rich practice martial arts to go risk their lives killing enemies?

Of course not.

Cultivators of old studied the mysteries of the body, mind, and nature, pursuing the ultimate state of Oneness with nature. To put it bluntly, the ancient nobility and Daoist cultivators did not engage in production. They ate their fill all day, focused on nurturing health and strengthening the body, and dreamed of achieving immortality.

The Ox-Subduing, Spirit Monkey, and Golden Toad Stance practices originated from this and exhibit delicate and profound characteristics. To the warriors of this other world, they were new secret arts worth learning from, but they were not practical.

In this world, even Sylvia had to fight personally, and even Tournans was just a super-enforcer trained by the Church. Who would allow common soldiers to pursue the illusory path of longevity?

Tournans’s statement that survival was the measure of strength reflected the different pursuits of the two worlds regarding secret martial arts.

The training time for the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form was too long, it consumed a lot of resources, and it didn’t focus on real combat. Even after Victor’s simplification, soldiers still needed to spend three hours a day practicing it, which invariably reduced time for practical training like sword swings, shooting, and thrusting. Its only benefit was that it could raise an adult’s Physique attribute to the level of an Elite Soldier.

A strong farmer is still a farmer.

The vassal children of the York family began their education at age eight, followed a Knight to learn combat skills at twelve, and were selected for the Fanged Legion at eighteen. By the age of twenty-five, any Tusk Soldier could handle two Gnolls at once, while a single Gnoll could kill two mercenary soldiers trained in the simplified Mystic Form.

Therefore, the York family looked down on the Mystic Forms. Victor and Narsen had also realized this problem, which was why they had thought of merging the Ox-Subduing, Spirit Monkey, and Vibration secret techniques to enhance the mercenaries’ real combat capabilities.

Tournans was a legendary powerhouse renowned for his martial prowess. If he could see the advantages and disadvantages of the Mystic Forms, he surely had a solution.

Victor asked, full of anticipation, “Lord Tournans, have you successfully merged the three secret arts and solved the Mystic Forms’ shortcomings?”

“In the development of mortal martial arts to this day, the most difficult thing is innovation. Since you and Narsen were able to create entirely new secret arts, I am naturally capable of modifying them.”

Tournans chuckled, then his expression turned serious. “As I said before, the goal of practicing secret martial arts is to achieve unity of body and mind, to strive for the fire of the mind, the level where the internal and external ignite. But the mind cannot exist separately from the body. A person’s internal potential determines the strength of their mind’s power.”

“Simply put, a person with a strong body will have a vigorous spirit and thus a powerful mind. A physically weak person, sickly all the time, can’t muster any energy, so their mind will naturally be deficient.”

“However, external force, internal force, and the power of the mind are actually one and the same, inseparable, mutually promoting and influencing each other.” Tournans’s tone shifted, and he pointed at Caligula. “Look at the big guy. His physical condition is far beyond that of an ordinary person, but his mind is weak and he has no fighting spirit. All he knows how to do is eat and drink, growing a layer of fat. If someone hadn’t taken him in, he would have been food for wild beasts long ago.”

“Now look at Marcy. She’s a natural-born Ferocious human, with a strong and sharp mind. But due to a lack of food and systematic training when she was young, her physical development has already set, limiting the growth of her mind’s power. In fact, most Ferocious humans remain unknown, completely missing their best period for growth and ending up as ordinary people.” Tournans shook his head. “A great pity.”

So, I’m a Ferocious human, too… Marcy clenched her fists, then relaxed them, her expression one of profound disappointment.

Chapter 392: Secret Art Improvement (Part 2)

Victor gave Marcy a thoughtful look, then turned his gaze to Tournans, who was pointing at Narsen and commenting:

“Narsen grew up in a mercenary company. He never lacked for meat and had the chance to learn martial arts. The life-and-death struggles stimulated his power of the mind, and his desire for strength guided the changes both inside and outside his body. He diligently trained his muscles, and his internal organs grew stronger at digesting and absorbing nutrients. He ate more, grew stronger… Hehe, but it’s a pity he doesn’t understand the role of emotions. He’s still a long way from igniting the fire of the mind, so he’s become nothing more than a stupid bear.”

“Allowing it to develop freely is clearly not the way. That’s why secret martial arts are necessary.”

Tournans glanced at Nicole and said, “Sacred Warriors cultivate three powers in tandem, which is actually an imitation of the secret to the Knights’ strength. An apprentice knight awakens their Aura, and the process of resonating with Elemental Nodes is a process of stimulating their internal and external potential. After resonating with twelve Elemental Nodes, a Knight ignites their fire of the mind, balancing the three powers and absorbing void elements to continuously transform their bodies. Upon resonating with the twenty-fourth Elemental Node, a Knight’s body, mind, and power reach the mortal limit. One more step forward is to become extraordinary, where one can directly mobilize void elements to strengthen their body and mind, or even manifest them to slay powerful foes.”

“Theoretically, anyone can reach the level of a Knight, but in reality, it’s impossible.”

“This is because humans grow and develop from birth until they are eighteen years old. Beyond that age, a person stops growing. But a Knight’s growth is not limited by time. Extraordinary Knights remain youthful and retain their beauty forever. Even on the day their life ends, they can still fight at their peak. Knights are truly the darlings of the world’s origin!” Tournans shook his head, a hint of envy in his voice. Ferocious warriors were not ordinary mortals, but they would still age one day; they could not enjoy everlasting prime like Extraordinary Knights.

Nicole gave a reserved smile and nod. “Yes, if a noble fails to awaken their Aura before the age of eighteen, they cannot become a Knight.”

Tournans nodded. “An ordinary person has eighteen years of development. Even if they started practicing secret martial arts as an infant, it would be impossible to reach the human limit. At most, they could reach the level of an apprentice knight. When a person turns eighteen, their body is like a finished wooden bucket. Its capacity is fixed. Pouring in more water will only cause it to overflow. An infinite mind is useless!”

“The Ox-Subduing Mystic Form changes the limits of growth and development! It can strengthen an adult’s internal organs, extending their period of development!”

Narsen shook his head and interjected, “But ordinary people can’t practice my Ox-Subduing Mystic Form. The simplified version has a mediocre effect and will never allow one to reach the level of internal strengthening.”

“My lord Narsen,” Marcy said, her eyes shining and her voice trembling, “Can… can I practice your Ox-Subduing Mystic Form?”

“Haha, Marcy, for the sake of that steamed goose you treated me to, I’ll give you a better option,” Tournans cut in with a hearty laugh.

Lilia glanced at Marcy with delight, then stuck her little tongue out at Victor, looking like a cute girl who had just found a treasure.

How could creating an entirely new secret martial art be so simple? Tournans and Clement were most likely using Marcy as a test subject to improve their new secret art. Victor understood this in his heart but wouldn’t say it out loud.

Compared to a single female Ferocious warrior, Tournans’ secret martial art was far more valuable.

As expected, Tournans said, “Based on the two Mystic Forms and the Vibration Secret Technique, I have created four new secret martial arts.”

“The first secret art is based on the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form, supplemented by the simplified Ox-Subduing Mystic Form and the combat techniques of the Sacred Warriors. It’s for adult mercenary soldiers to practice. If they practice for two hours every day and regularly take potions to strengthen their bodies, they can achieve the combat prowess of an ordinary vassal’s soldier within five years.”

“Mm, I’ve given it a name: the Gray Wolf Combat Technique.”

“The second secret art is a newly simplified version of the Ox-Subduing and Spirit Monkey Mystic Forms, combined with the Vibration Secret Technique to stimulate internal potential and promote physical growth and development. It’s designed specifically for cultivating a family’s elite. It’s best to have the children of vassals start practicing at the age of five. As long as they train diligently without pause and are provided with proper diet and potions, their strength will certainly surpass the elites of the Fanged Legion, reaching the level of a Prospective Sacred Warrior. If they train to a high level, they can even master instantaneous Burst combat techniques. The number of Bursts and their effectiveness will vary from person to person.”

Nicole furrowed her lovely brows and asked worriedly, “Isn’t starting at five years old too early? A young child’s body is very fragile. The slightest mistake could lead to disability or a shortened lifespan.”

“The early stages mainly involve practicing simplified Stance practice and breathing methods to train the body’s flexibility. It won’t harm the practitioner’s health,” Tournans said smugly. “This combat technique balances strength, agility, and Burst. I call it the Gryphon Combat Technique.”

He turned his head to Marcy. “The third combat technique is tailor-made for Ferocious warriors. I’ve improved the Ox-Subduing and Spirit Monkey Mystic Forms and combined them with the Sacred Warriors’ Bronze Body Forging Method. It requires undergoing body conditioning strikes, consuming berserk potions, and stimulating the mind and body. The entire process will be extremely painful, but it will also make you much stronger. Follower, are you willing to try?”

Marcy clenched her jaw and said loudly, “I am willing!”

Tournans nodded and said in a deadpan tone, “The third combat technique can allow a Ferocious human whose body has already set to grow again. Its core is the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form. To commemorate the creator of the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form, I’m calling it the ‘Stupid Bear’ Combat Technique!”

“Stu…pid… Bear…” Marcy’s mouth hung open, her face turning pale then green.

This name is too humiliating!

Narsen, however, didn’t mind. He scratched his head and said, “Can I practice the Stupid Bear Combat Technique?”

“What you need now is to ignite the fire of your mind.” Tournans shot him a look. “You can practice the fourth combat technique. I prepared that one specifically for Sacred Warriors.”

“Alright!” Narsen grinned. “What’s it called?”

Tournans pondered for a moment. “It’s still the Gryphon Combat Technique, just with the Sacred Warriors’ secret art of the mind added to it.”

“Physical development is like building a wooden bucket. What do you do if you want to increase the bucket’s capacity? You can only smash the bucket and rebuild it!” Tournans struck his fist into his palm, and the air cracked with a sharp bang.

“The growth of a warrior’s power of the mind is related to the body. But apart from tempering the body and enhancing one’s Physique and Perception, it can also be stimulated to grow through intense emotional fluctuations. For instance, the Knights’ Trial of Life and Death is equally effective for Sacred Warriors, but it’s far too dangerous, almost suicidal. So, Sacred Warriors use pain to enhance their power of the mind.”

“Every Prospective Sacred Warrior must go through the ordeal of having their body shattered to pieces. Tendons are kneaded and torn inch by inch, bones are cracked and broken inch by inch. Amidst the agony, they use the will of their mind to reshape their own body, strengthening the power of their mind while guiding the changes in their internal potential, making mind and body more closely intertwined. And a Sacred Warrior must undergo this reshaping five times, fusing mind power, internal force, external force, and holy power into one to become an Adjudicator, gaining combat power comparable to a Silver Knight.”

Tournans’ tone was flat, but it conveyed an unyielding will and a deep, heartfelt pride. Victor and the others were filled with solemn respect. Only Beldina and Caligula looked on with blank incomprehension.

Narsen said in a strained voice, “My lord Tournans, I’m not afraid of pain! I’m willing to accept the tempering of being shattered to pieces!”

“Of course, I know you’re not afraid of pain! Wasn’t practicing the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form also painful?” Tournans thumped Narsen on the chest, and the two Ferocious warriors looked at each other and laughed.

No wonder he looks down on the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form. It turns out he thinks practicing it isn’t painful enough… You have no idea what a heretical path the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form really is… Victor lamented inwardly.

To push the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form to its highest state—where “the cicada senses the autumn wind before it blows”—one must practice on the branch of a pine tree on a sheer cliff, facing raging storms. The slightest mistake means falling into a bottomless abyss. The first twenty years of training are all preparation for experiencing that great terror between life and death.

Victor had tried it once, but the X-3’s absolute rationality left him without a shred of fear, so he could never grasp the supreme state of the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form. Victor also never told Narsen about this extreme training method. Knowing his personality, it was hard to say if he could succeed, but he would almost certainly try, and almost certainly fall to his death.

The Sacred Warriors’ training method seemed relatively gentle by comparison, and Victor was tempted.

Clement spoke up. “Victor, you once tried to trade the Ox-Subduing and Spirit Monkey Mystic Forms for the secret techniques of the Sacred Warriors. Pello rejected your proposal because the Sacred Warriors’ training method is too cruel and the cost is steep. A level four priest must cast the level four divine art, Fire of the Mind, on the Sacred Warrior beforehand to temporarily ignite their mind and achieve the Knight’s state of mind-body unity. Only then can they use the power of their mind to guide the body’s reshaping. In addition, they must also consume a precious secret potion to promote the growth of their body and mind.”

“The training methods of the Sacred Warriors are no secret to the great nobles. If a lord makes an outstanding contribution and pays a huge sum, we will help him train Mystic Warriors.”

“Given the value of the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form and the outstanding contributions of House of Randell, I can help you train fifty Mystic Warriors for free.” Clement looked down at Bel and smiled gently. “Beldina’s illness can only possibly be cured by this method.”

Bel blinked her big eyes and asked timidly, “Grandpa Pope, will it hurt for Bel?”

“It has to be treated even if it hurts! If you don’t treat it, you’ll die!” Tournans threatened viciously.

Bel let out a wail, tears and snot streaming down her face. A high-ranking female Sacred Warrior from behind the Pope picked Bel up and glared at Tournans.

Tournans stroked his chin, sizing up Bel with great interest. “This little girl’s power of the mind is unusual, similar to the innate charm of the purple-eyed bloodline. If she reshapes her body and then practices the Gryphon Combat Technique, she might be able to advance even further…”

“What about me?” Narsen asked urgently, pointing at his own nose.

“You have a high chance of igniting your fire of the mind and becoming a true Silver-rank Ferocious warrior.” Tournans nudged Narsen with his elbow and said, shaking his head smugly, “Stupid bear, it’s not easy to knead and shatter a Ferocious warrior’s muscles and bones. Do you know who helped me train back in the day? It was the First Paladin, Her Majesty Nachtigal! You’re lucky you ran into me. Otherwise, there really aren’t many people who could help you.”

“Thank you, My lord Tournans. Narsen is in your hands.” Victor asked with a smile, “Is it possible for me to undergo the reshaping as well?”

Tournans and Clement exchanged a glance. Tournans shook his head. “Victor, we discussed your situation with Her Highness Sylvia. Based on our observations, you have already ignited your fire of the mind. This method is ineffective for those who already possess it. However… your fire of the mind is highly unusual.” He thought for a moment before choosing his words carefully. “A human’s fire of the mind is about controlling emotions and using their power. But you shield yourself from the interference of emotions. This might be a difference in racial talent. I have no way, and I dare not, interfere with your bloodline purification process.”

“Let’s just try!” Victor insisted, unwilling to give up.

Tournans glanced at Clement. Seeing the Pope nod, he stepped forward and lightly swiped his index finger across Victor’s left arm.

Ssssh. The sleeve disintegrated. The exposed arm swelled up alarmingly. Nicole cradled Victor’s left arm, distressed, and roared at Tournans, “What do you think you’re doing!”

Clement raised a hand and pointed. A white radiance fell upon Victor, and his arm swiftly returned to normal, the swelling receding at a visible rate.

“Did it hurt?” Tournans asked.

Victor shook his head woodenly.

Tournans shrugged. “Your fire of the mind automatically dulls the sensation of pain. How can you use pain to temper your mind and body?”

Victor sighed, dejected and lost. The X-3’s activation mechanism was like breathing, somewhere between controllable and uncontrollable. A person holding their breath would never suffocate themselves; when the body encountered extreme stimulation, the X-3 would activate spontaneously, beyond his control, just like an instinct.

If Victor could completely control the X-3, he would never have been kidnapped by the Alchemy Tower. In a sense, the X-3 had already become an obstacle to his improvement.

It was like a paper window he just couldn’t break through!

“My love, you were born extraordinary. You have your own path to walk,” Nicole said, taking Victor’s hand and comforting him gently.

Victor gave Nicole’s delicate, boneless hand a light squeeze, then nodded and smiled at Lilia, whose eyes were red-rimmed, signaling for her not to worry.

Tournans grunted and said, “Victor, it’s best to give the fifty slots to children under the age of five. The younger, the better. Their minds are pure and flawless, free of distracting thoughts. The Divine Art of the Fire of the Mind will guide the balanced development of their bodies and minds.”

“Don’t tell me House of Randell can’t even scrape together fifty young children, can it?” Tournans said with a mischievous grin.

Victor gave an awkward laugh. House of Randell had secretly gathered more than eighty infants to be raised as the family’s death commandos. Trafficking in people was, of course, a sinful act explicitly forbidden by the Church. However, the Church helped the great nobles train Mystic Warriors, and Mystic Warriors were almost always death commandos.

This also showed that the Church and the lords were deeply entangled.

Since I’ve been found out, I might as well try to get more slots… Victor gave a cough to cover his thoughts and said, “Is it possible to get a few more slots? I am willing to donate an offering to the Church.”

Clement shook his head, then nodded with a smile. “The secret potion required for reshaping the body uses the heart of a dire Kobold as its main ingredient, which is extremely rare. Fifty potions is the maximum I can authorize. The Half-dragons and Marsh Dragon-Lizards in the Lizard Marsh are also dragon-blooded creatures. If you can obtain their hearts, plus some medicinal herbs from the marsh, I can consider your proposal. How about this: for every fifteen ordinary Half-dragon hearts, you get one Mystic Warrior slot. Three dire Half-dragon hearts for one slot. One Marsh Dragon-Lizard heart for two slots. You will also have to donate an offering of eight hundred Gold Sols or two White crystals to the Church for each Mystic Warrior.”

Monsters eat people, and people eat monsters! What a spectacular and savage world.

Victor bowed elegantly. “Your Holiness, I will need a list of the medicinal herbs and instructions on how to preserve the monster hearts.”

“I will arrange it,” Clement said with a slight nod. “Tournans and I can only stay in the Randell Fief for one month. You must decide on the specific candidates before nightfall.”

“My lord, I want two slots,” Lilia said, biting her red lip and looking up into Victor’s eyes with determination. “One for me, and one for Marcy.”

“Hmm?” Victor’s expression froze. He couldn’t accept Lilia being kneaded and handled by Tournans, no matter the reason.

The female high-ranking Sacred Warrior let out a soft laugh and said, “I shall be the one to reshape My Lady Lilia’s body. Although I am no match for My lord Tournans, I am still a level six Sacred Warrior.”

Her name was Casey. She appeared to be in her early thirties, with deep, well-defined features, a fit and graceful figure, and a sweet, pleasant voice full of a mature woman’s charm. Such a young and beautiful high-ranking female Sacred Warrior was extremely rare. In fact, Casey herself was an apprentice knight who had awakened her Aura with the help of potions. She had an intimate relationship with Clement; she was both the Pope’s confidant and Personal Guard, as well as his companion.

“I’ll be troubling you, My lady Casey,” Victor said, bowing respectfully. He then turned to Marcy. “The opportunity to reshape one’s body is incredibly precious. How can I trust in your loyalty?”

“I await your command, My lord,” Marcy said, dropping to one knee with her head bowed.

“If you are determined to be Lilia’s personal guard, you must end your current marriage and serve Lilia with your whole heart and soul. Can you do that?” Victor asked coldly.

“I can!” Marcy bit her lip, raised her head, and said without hesitation, “My lord, I long to be a warrior, not a farmer’s wife! I swear to the supreme Lord of Radiance that I will be loyal to the House of Randell. I will defend the honor of House of Randell with my life, protect My Lady Lilia, and obey her commands. If I break this oath, may my soul fall into the Abyss and be damned for eternity.”

“Very good!” Victor extended his right hand, and Marcy clasped it with both of hers. “In my name as the head of the House of Randell, I grant you the family name. From now on, your name is Marcy Randell. May you take pride in the family name and never bring shame upon it! Rise.”

“Thank you, My lord,” Marcy said in a trembling voice. She released her master’s hand, slowly rose to her feet, and returned to her position behind Lilia.

“Aka will also undergo the reshaping,” Victor said, pointing at Caligula.

“You’re letting a fool…” Tournans’ eyes widened. He stopped mid-sentence, looking doubtfully at the dazed Caligula. His expression gradually shifted to one of deep thought.

Clement stepped forward and said, “Victor, we will be staying at the Forest Villa for the time being. You should go back and make preparations now.”

“As you wish, Your Holiness.” Victor led his family members in a bow and took his leave.

Once they were far away, Clement asked in a low voice, “Tournans, what’s wrong?”

“For some reason, I was targeting that fool…” Tournans said gravely. “After carefully examining my feelings, I realized it was jealousy. Why would I be jealous of a fool?”

The two high-ranking clergy exchanged horrified looks. Clement’s expression also grew serious. After a long moment of contemplation, he said slowly, “Caligula was saved by Miller.”

“My lord, are you saying…” Casey asked in a small voice.

Clement’s brows were tightly furrowed as he murmured, “A God-favored… our Lord’s chosen…”

“You don’t think this is a coincidence?”

Clement shook his head and smiled calmly. “The first article of the Radiant Code: Mortals shall not touch the Lord. Those who issue oracles are the greatest of Heretics and must suffer the punishment of Purify. Not even the Pope is exempt.”

“A God-favored is, in the end, just a God-favored.”

Chapter 393: All Mine

Laketon’s Administrative Office.

“Master, this is the list drafted by Village Head Dean. There are 35 people in total, including 1 brick kiln steward, 7 aides, 11 foremen, and 16 skilled craftsmen.”

Daige, the Deputy Director of the Administrative Office, respectfully placed two parchment scrolls on the desk, carefully unrolling them for his master to read.

He was a short man in his fifties. His salt-and-pepper hair was combed immaculately, his clothes were neat and stylish, and the new leather shoes on his feet were polished to a mirror shine. He stood with a straight back and proper posture, looking as sharp as a noble’s steward. Who would believe that just over five years ago, he was an illiterate refugee?

Victor’s earliest followers had all become upper-class men, and Daige was no exception.

Back then, he had been all alone, a scrawny, aging man who hardly dared to breathe too loudly when speaking or acting. He was one of the most marginal figures among the followers. But he had been willing to settle down and learn to read, write, and do arithmetic, and he had surprisingly become Lady Lilia’s right-hand man, appointed as the Deputy Director of the Administrative Office. Even so, he had seen his master only a handful of times, but that didn’t diminish his heartfelt devotion. He even remembered every word his master had ever said to him—a total of 27 sentences and 107 words.

It’s a rare day that the master is handling administrative affairs himself. I must perform well, Daige silently chanted in his heart.

“Have them set off for Goldwater City as soon as possible. The Two-Headed Dragon Shareholding Company is in urgent need of manpower. The sooner they take up their posts, the higher the positions they can secure.” Victor picked up a quill and signed his name on both parchment letters.

“Yes.” Daige deftly rolled up the letters and inserted them into a leather holder on his belt.

“You’ll also need to prepare another list. Pick 15 people skilled in business to join the Two-Headed Dragon,” Victor said, setting down his quill and letting his body sink completely into the soft, comfortable deerskin armchair.

Daige bowed and said, “Master, business matters have always been handled by Lady Alice, not Lady Lilia. Few of the stewards and aides in Laketon understand commerce. Those who do are in the tax office, and they are far from proficient in business. If we are to transfer people, we can only have Old John send some back. However, our business in Wildwillow City is quite large, and Old John is constantly complaining about being short-staffed.”

“Is that so…” Victor turned to his side, tapped the table, and said thoughtfully, “What about picking some people from the merchants who have established residency in Laketon by purchasing a house?”

“Master, we can hardly guarantee their loyalty,” Daige said after a thought, adding, “Old John says that business involves the constant exchange of goods and money. He’d rather slowly train our own people who don’t understand business than let shrewd outsiders take up supervisory positions.”

“That makes sense.” Victor nodded with a frown. After a moment of contemplation, he finally thought of someone.

“Do you know Kali?”

“I do,” Daige replied. “He is the son of the merchant Sid. He had a conflict with the Robert family over papermaking. He was enfeoffed with thirty mu of land and is now your vassal.”

“My vassals must serve me,” Victor said with a smile. “Prepare a letter of recommendation for Kali and arrange for him to take a position at the Two-Headed Dragon Shareholding Company. He can find the rest of the staff himself.”

“I’ll have the scribe write the letter of introduction right away.” Daige paused, then said cautiously, “Master, may I ask what products from the Randell Fief the Two-Headed Dragon Company will be purchasing? That way, I can have the workshops prepare the goods in advance.”

Victor glanced up at him and smiled. “Daige, go call Jim in. And have someone prepare a pot of Snow Ear Flower Tea for me.”

“Yes.” Daige dared not press the matter. He backed away a few steps before turning to walk toward the door. Just before he left, he heard Victor say, “Oh, right…” He quickly turned back, awaiting his master’s command.

“Nice shoes,” Victor said with a nod, signaling for him to leave.

Daige looked down at the leather shoes on his feet and left the office, completely puzzled.

When Victor first met Gillian, he was amazed that Young Lady Chapman’s demeanor was so similar to that of a modern woman. He had specially made the first pair of high-heeled, long leather boots in this other world for her. To this day, various styles of high-heeled shoes have become fashionable throughout the circles of noblewomen, and even Sylvia and Sophia were no exception.

High-heeled shoes made women appear taller, sexier, and more alluring, but they were impractical for labor and combat. Few ladies from vassal families chose to wear high-heeled shoes, and the clothing and accessories of noblewomen were all custom-made by highly skilled craftsmen. Thus, women’s high-heeled shoes could not become a viable business.

Feeling it was a pity, Victor turned his attention to ready-made leather shoes. He designed several styles based on modern leather shoes. Compared to traditional high-topped leather boots, these ready-made shoes were simple and elegant, easy to wear, and required less material, as they could be made from scrap leather.

These affordable, high-quality ready-made shoes became an instant hit among the vassal class. The House of Randell became the second-largest buyer of scrap leather in Wildwillow City. The largest buyer was the Wellington family, whose purchasing scale was ten times that of the House of Randell.

The profits from ready-made shoes were enviable, and products without a technological barrier were particularly easy to copy. The Wellington family naturally wouldn’t miss out on such a money-making opportunity. The south-central region they controlled was already the largest leather goods processing area in the Kingdom of Gambia, superior to the House of Randell in terms of the number of craftsmen, leather-making technology, and geographical location. As soon as the lords of the south-central region made their move, they immediately captured eighty percent of the market share for ready-made shoes.

The ready-made shoe business reflected the market environment that the shareholding merchant association would face. However, the financial situation of the York family was like that of the Gambis Royal Family: the liege lord was short on money, while the vassals were rich. Since it was difficult to earn money from outsiders, he could only start by taking it from the pockets of his own family’s vassals. He couldn’t just let outsiders earn his vassals’ money.

“Heh, how could I tell you that the Two-Headed Dragon Shareholding Company is mainly for earning money from you all?” Victor chuckled to himself, then raised his voice. “Come in.”

A household maid with a slender figure and a beautiful face walked into the office carrying a tea set. Following her was a burly, middle-aged man.

“My lord, good day,” the middle-aged man said, striking his chest with his right fist in a military salute.

Victor nodded and said, “Jim, I called you here to tell you that Narsen is cultivating a new secret martial art. During this time, you are to take charge of the Mercenary Legion.”

“I will not disappoint you, my lord,” Jim declared loudly.

“In addition, I need more Swamp Scouts. From now on, the Swamp Scouts will be officially incorporated into the Mercenary Legion. Their combat allowances, food, potions, disability compensation, and military training will all be in line with the standards for a Corporal. Any Swamp Scout who serves for a full six years and is not disabled will be directly promoted to Scout Corporal in the Mercenary Legion.”

“Go back now and appoint a commander for the Swamp Scouts.”

“As you command!” Jim saluted again, turned, and strode out of the office.

When the War Bear Mercenary Company first started following Victor, there were 49 members. Later, when the Ant-men invaded the Centaur Hills, five of them unfortunately died in battle, leaving only 44. Now, Instructor Baritt, Iron Hammer, Fermi, and 28 other War Bears were stationed far from home, managing The Bear Company and ten smuggling caravans, while the remaining 20 stayed with the family.

Jim was one of the War Bears who stayed. He currently served as Narsen’s adjutant, assisting him in managing the Mercenary Legion. The discipline of the Legion had forged Jim into a man of swift and decisive action, at least able to strictly follow orders while on duty.

In the future, when the deployed War Bears return to the family and merge with the Mercenary Legion, there will probably be a great deal of trouble. Victor couldn’t help but shake his head slightly as he watched Jim’s departing figure.

“Master, your Snow Ear Flower Tea.” The young and beautiful household maid placed the tray on the table. With a delicate, fair hand, she picked up a cup of emerald-green tea and presented it to Victor.

The Snow Ear Flower came from Mount Arreat and was a rare plant with an affinity for the water element. Due to its scarcity, its price was even higher than that of coffee, which had a fire element affinity.

This time, Sophia had not only brought the barbarians but also a full eleven carts of specialty products from Mount Arreat. These goods were temporarily stored in the warehouses of Laketon. The Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild was preparing to hand them over to the Four-Leaf Clover Trading Company, who would then transport the goods to Wildwillow City to be sold to the major families of Gambis.

Although the master of the Wimbledon Merchant Association was Sophia, there was no problem with Victor wanting to sample the specialty products of Mount Arreat. In fact, a nascent integration was already visible between the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild and the House of Randell. It was just that both Sophia and Victor were exercising restraint, trying not to interfere in each other’s affairs, which was why their subordinates were able to maintain a fragile and ambiguous boundary.

Taking a sip of the emerald-green Snow Ear Flower Tea, Victor felt a fragrance that permeated his entire being, and a cool, refreshing sensation spread both inside and out.

Compared to the strong flavor of coffee, the light and pleasant Snow Ear Flower Tea suited him better.

After carefully savoring the slight fluctuation of the water element for a moment, Victor instructed the household maid, “Dili, you may leave. I need to be alone for a while.”

“Yes.” The maid crossed her hands, bowed slightly, and turned to leave the office, gently closing the door behind her.

Victor stretched, rose, and walked to the window. He pushed open the brown crystal pane, letting the sunlight spill into the room. In truth, with his current physique, he didn’t feel tired at all; stretching was purely a habit for mental relaxation.

These past few days, Nicole had returned to Goldwater City to teach the three combat techniques created by Tournans to the Fanged Legion. Lilia, Narsen, the Elina sisters, and Linda were all undergoing physical reconstruction by the Sacred Warrior and would need at least a month before they could return to work.

Victor had to personally handle the various trivial matters of the House of Randell, which left him quite frustrated.

Even with divine arts ensuring physical and mental safety, physical reconstruction was an extremely painful process, but its benefits were equally enviable.

For young children who underwent physical reconstruction, their minds and bodies would grow in sync along a path preset by the divine art. Their physical fitness would be at least double that of an ordinary person, and their external force, internal force, and mental force would become more tightly bound. This meant their innate talent would far surpass that of ordinary people, allowing them to easily cultivate the Gryphon Combat Technique to a high level and possess the strength of an initial-rank apprentice knight.

For adults, physical reconstruction had other effects. Elina, Alice, and Linda had originally not dared to undergo the ordeal of being shattered to pieces, but when they heard that reconstruction could make them more beautiful and slow their aging according to their wishes, they hesitated for a long time before gritting their teeth and accepting.

Narsen was the most audacious of all. He had secretly brought his twin sons to undergo physical reconstruction without telling Linda.

It was simply deranged!

His subordinates were all growing stronger one by one, while Victor was stuck in place. He felt a little disheartened.

It was all because X-3 restricted the development of the power of the mind, and he himself was half-elven. Human combat techniques were clearly not suited for his elven bloodline; he couldn’t even master the Burst technique of the Gryphon Combat Technique.

But then again, if Victor could mobilize his internal potential, then Activation would evolve into the Surge talent, which was far stronger than the Gryphon Combat Technique.

Of course, Victor was not without his gains. He was a lord, and he still had Alchemy Tower Number 7.

As Sylvia had said, no matter how strong a Gold Knight was, he still only had two hands and two feet. He could never replace the role of an army.

Although it was difficult for an army to kill a nimble and mobile Gold Knight, a powerful individual’s margin for error when fighting an army was extremely low. A single misstep could lead to complete defeat. The opposite was true for an army. Especially when the overall quality of the soldiers was comprehensively improved, the gap in the margin for error between the two sides would widen further, and the best choice for the powerful individual would be to flee quickly.

Tournans’ Gray Wolf Combat Technique was a fast-track technique with limited potential, making it difficult for practitioners to ignite the fire of the mind. But the Gray Wolf was suitable for hired soldiers, as it could greatly enhance their combat power and survivability. Out of ten thousand hired soldiers who went through cruel life-and-death trials, some would surely distinguish themselves, ignite the fire of the mind, and become true powerhouses.

Moreover, the Gray Wolf Combat Technique combined the characteristics of the Lithe Ape and Ox-Subduing Mystic Form, making it much stronger than either Mystic Form alone. In fact, Victor’s purpose in having the Lithe Ape militiamen practice a simplified Ox-Subduing Mystic Form was precisely to pursue the effects of the Gray Wolf Combat Technique.

Victor guessed that if the Gray Wolf Combat Technique were loaded into the Alchemy Tower, the Alchemical militia could potentially become Gray Wolf militiamen. Their four Elemental Attributes would be Physique 13, Spirit 10, Perception 14, and Life 3. The combat power of a Gray Wolf militiaman would completely surpass that of a Crouching Ox Militiaman or a Lithe Ape militiaman.

By the same principle, the Gryphon Combat Technique could also produce Gryphon militiamen with Physique 14, Perception 13, who had also mastered the Burst technique.

As for the Raging Bear (Stupid Bear) Combat Technique, it was basically useless to Victor. Tournans, however, could search for Ferocious humans with naturally keen minds and use the Raging Bear Combat Technique to change their destinies.

However, how many buried Ferocious humans could Tournans discover on his own?

Victor had completely memorized the three combat techniques. What he lacked now was a Law Crystal to repair the memory upload function. And something like a Law Crystal was purely a matter of luck; it couldn’t be rushed.

The sound of shuffling footsteps came from the corridor outside. An image of the Crouching Ox Militiaman, Reno, formed in Victor’s mind.

“Come in.”

Reno pushed the door open, and before he could speak, Victor hit him with a barrage of words, “Reno, do you know you’re about to become obsolete!”

“Huh?” Reno stood frozen in place, stunned.

“Heh heh, in another nine years, eleven months, and seven days, when you return to the tower for rebirth, you might come out as the Gryphon militiaman, Reno.” Victor paused, then shook his head and sighed, “Unfortunately, you won’t remember anything by then…”

“I will always remember you, my lord. No other memories are important,” Reno said, shaking his head. As the first Alchemical militiaman, his emotional intelligence was getting higher and higher.

Victor nodded, patted Reno’s shoulder, and asked, “What did you come to see me about?”

Reno answered in a low voice, “While the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild was drying medicinal herbs, an Alchemical auxiliary soldier discovered five of the medicinal ingredients for making the Restoration Potion. My lord, we have all the materials for the Restoration Potion now.”

Victor’s eyes focused as he asked in a deep voice, “You mean the Restoration Potion that helps Alchemists recover their vigor?”

“That’s right!”

“Then what are you waiting for? Transport all those materials to the Hill Camp immediately!” Victor exclaimed in excitement.

“But, those medicinal herbs belong to Lady Sophia…”

Victor waved his hand and muttered, “Sophia… She’s all mine, so of course, her things are my things. And my things are still my things.”

“Move them all! Don’t leave a single one behind!”

Chapter 394: Restoration Potion

The attendants from the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild indeed did not dare to stop the lord’s Personal Guard from hauling away eleven carts of specialty products. The guild’s steward, holding the cargo manifest, ran to the Administrative Office to implore the master of the house to personally write a letter to be sent to Marquess Sophia.

After all, this shipment, including principal and profit, was worth one hundred sixty thousand Gold Sols, an absolutely staggering fortune. Moreover, its implications were far-reaching, and the guild steward could not bear the responsibility for losing the goods.

According to the steward, these eleven carts of rare specialty products already had buyers. If they couldn’t receive their reserved shares, it would undoubtedly damage the Four-Leaf Clover Trading Company’s reputation. The trade agreement signed between the Wimbledon Merchant Association and the southern lords might even be completely overturned, and Lady Sophia’s situation would become even more difficult.

Victor weighed his options repeatedly and ultimately abandoned the idea of seizing the eleven carts of specialty products. He amiably told the steward that this was a test of his character and that his loyalty was commendable. The steward put on a display of being frightened, grateful, and overwhelmed by the favor. As for how much of it was genuine, Victor didn’t care.

Victor’s decision wasn’t driven by a fear of angering Sophia. In fact, High-ranked Knights were almost impervious to the interference of negative emotions. If Sophia were to suffer a loss, she would only use it as a pretext to demand more compensation and concessions from Victor. Victor could act shamelessly toward Sophia, but he had to consider the Wimbledon Merchant Association’s position.

If the Four-Leaf Clover Trading Company lost its credibility, Marquess Leopold, the kingdom’s Minister of Finance, would surely unite the deceived southern lords and Viscount Soren to strike at the Wimbledon Merchant Association. Ultimately, this would allow the Leopold family’s caravans to take a slice of the kingdom’s trade pie, or even replace the Four-Leaf Clover Trading Company entirely.

Victor regarded the Wimbledon Merchant Association as already in his pocket and would not allow others to lay a finger on it. Besides, before The Golden Company could absorb the merchant association’s talent, the Centaur Hills still needed Sophia to transport supplies. If the Leopold family gained control of the rights to transport goods within Gambis, they would have complete knowledge of any supplies purchased by the Centaur Hills.

Especially since the medicinal herbs from Mount Arreat were related to the Alchemists’ Restoration Potions. Compared to the staunchly neutral Sophia, the Royal Family-backed House of Leopold would obviously use the cargo manifests to gather intelligence on Victor.

On the other hand, seizing goods worth one hundred sixty thousand Gold Sols was too ostentatious and would easily attract unwanted attention. If the Alchemical Empire’s Restoration Potions turned out to be priceless, the moment Victor used them, Sylvia, with her intelligence, would immediately connect the two events. And then… who knew how she would react?

Under the pretext of helping his wife safeguard the supplies, Victor only took the reserve stock of the barbarians’ specialty products, which included those five key medicinal herbs.

When this batch of supplies reached the Hill Camp, the camp’s Alchemical militia, following Victor’s orders, sent the five types of herbs to the mountain stronghold overnight, handing them over to Busuo to formulate the Alchemical Empire’s Restoration Potions.

Three days later, the Lithe Ape militiaman Jack handed a sample of the Restoration Potion to Victor.

The Restoration Potion in the crystal vial was golden in color, with a dense, mercury-like texture, as dazzling as molten gold. Victor carefully examined the potion in his hand and asked suspiciously, “Are you sure this thing is safe to drink? I feel like it would clog up a person’s intestines.”

“An ordinary person would certainly feel very uncomfortable after drinking a Restoration Potion,” Jack answered honestly.

“How uncomfortable?”

“Their intestines would get clogged.”

“…” Victor carefully set down the crystal vial, looked up, and asked, “A Knight… uh, I mean, what happens if an Alchemist drinks it?”

“This type of Restoration Potion can continuously restore an Alchemist’s vigor for three hours.”

“So it gets stuck in the intestines and then continuously converts into Aura… Potion-making is truly miraculous.” Victor shook his head with a laugh, then his eyes suddenly widened as he pressed, “Wait, you just said ‘this type’ of Restoration Potion? How many types are there?”

“My Will Side has records of two Restoration Potion formulas. The one in your hand is a Type I Restoration Potion. The other is a Type II potion, but its restorative effect is not as good as this one’s,” Jack replied.

“A Type II Restoration Potion?” Victor stroked his chin and asked, “Are its ingredients cheaper?”

Jack thought for a moment and said, “My lord, we didn’t originally have the concept of expensive or cheap. If we consider only the types of herbs, the second formula is much more complex than the first. We currently haven’t gathered all the ingredients for the Type II Restoration Potion. After all, it’s been a very long time. Some resources that were commonplace during the era of the Alchemical Empire are now extinct, while some rare resources from back then might be common now.”

Victor stared blankly at the Restoration Potion on the table, then slapped his forehead and cried out in frustration, “I almost made a huge mistake!”

To verify the effects of the Restoration Potion, he had to have a Knight consume it. Victor thought it over and realized that only Nicole could help him keep this a secret. Although he was certain that Knights were the descendants of ancient Alchemists, tens of thousands of years had passed. Who could guarantee that the potion’s raw materials hadn’t mutated? And who could guarantee that the Knights’ bloodline hadn’t changed? What if the Restoration Potion turned out to be a poison for Knights? Wouldn’t that bring harm to Nicole?

“I’m such a damned fool! How could I let Nicole test a potion?” Victor was filled with both regret and shame. He stood up and paced back and forth in the room, agitated, exclaiming, “All the Knights around me are my women… Why don’t I have any secret knights?”

After a few turns, Victor suddenly stopped. “I seem to have an apprentice knight prisoner… doing hard labor in Raven Town.” He turned and ordered Jack, “Send a message with a Red-Eyed messenger crow. Have Garrison Commander Old Ham of Raven Town send two Elite Guards to bring that Tao De back.”

“My lord, who is Tao De?” Jack asked.

The first time Victor inspected Raven Town, he had ordered the destruction of a freemen camp and had a clandestine clash with Viscount Negus. In that small conflict, Viscount Negus lost three apprentice knights, and Tao De was the only survivor.

Although he was of humble birth and had an impure bloodline, having only managed to awaken his knight’s bloodline with the help of a cleansing potion provided by Duke Erickson and resonating with just four Elemental Nodes, his swordsmanship was exquisite. He had single-handedly killed two Lithe Ape militiamen.

Victor suspected that Tao De was a powerhouse on the verge of igniting his fire of the mind, but his base attributes were too poor, and his personal strength was far from comparable to a full knight’s.

Later, to save his own life, Tao De willingly renounced his status as an apprentice knight, disfigured his own face with an Adamantine longsword, and became a laborer in Raven Town. This ruthlessness left a deep impression on Victor and Lilia, which was why they spared his life.

The Lithe Ape militiaman Jack hadn’t been present at the time, so naturally, he didn’t know of Tao De.

“He’s… never mind. Go and call One-Eyed Dragon Gru over.” Victor couldn’t be bothered to explain further and decided to have his Captain of the Personal Guard handle it.

“As you wish, my lord.” Jack bowed impeccably, just like an ordinary vassal’s soldier, and backed out of the study.

Before long, the tall and fierce-looking Gru walked into the room, bowed, and said, “My lord, you were looking for me?”

“Mm.” Victor nodded and asked, “Do you still remember Tao De from Raven Town?”

“I remember! That bastard killed two of my Elite Guards and then sliced up his own face. Blood was everywhere, and he didn’t even flinch. He’s a ruthless one!” Gru also had a deep impression of Tao De. After a pause, he added, “But Tao De has been very docile since then. He doesn’t even fight back when people hit him. Anyone can bully him now.”

“At least he’s still alive… And now, I finally have a use for him.”

Victor returned to his seat and commanded, “Take a cavalry squad, make a trip to Raven Town, and bring Tao De back to the Hill Camp.” He tapped the table and continued to instruct, “Raven Town is crawling with spies and the Inquisition’s shadow operatives right now. You need to be fast, but more importantly, you must be cautious. You absolutely cannot attract the attention of outsiders, and that includes Lady Sophia and her subordinates. If Tao De attempts to escape, kill him on the spot!”

“Rest assured, my lord!” One-Eyed Dragon Gru said, thumping his chest. “I’ll bring Tao De back under the guise of rotating the Raven Town guards. I guarantee no one will know.”

Gru’s martial prowess was inferior to the Alchemical militia’s, but the Alchemical humans could never learn his quick-wittedness and flexibility.

Victor smiled in satisfaction. “Leave immediately. Try to be back within thirty days.”

“As you command, my lord!”

Thirty-four days later, inside the barracks of the Hill Camp.

Tao De slowly opened his eyes, staring at a flower-backed spider on the ceiling. He counted its eight slender legs over and over, silently feeling the surging power within his body, his heart a turmoil of mixed emotions.

He came from a noble family in the Eastern Alliance. His father had a title but no fief, a bloodline but no power, and acted more like a stud horse in heat than an elegant nobleman. He desperately sired seventeen children, but that did not include Tao De.

Tao De was an illegitimate child, trained as a servant and then sold off as a commodity to outsiders.

There were many such illegitimate children in the Eastern Alliance. If a girl, she would become someone’s plaything and a tool for childbirth. A boy could only accept a cruel fate: first serving as a slave to the family, then as cannon fodder for a lord. He would either die on the battlefield, achieve military merit and be rewarded by his master, or awaken his Aura in a brutal life-or-death battle and become a Knight.

Tao De did not accept the fate of an illegitimate child from the East. He chose to escape his father’s control, wandering from the Eastern Alliance to the Dodor Kingdom. A bloodline certificate signed by the Church allowed him to become one of Duke Erickson’s household guards. Before he turned eighteen, he underwent a bloodline cleansing and awakened his Aura.

But the good times didn’t last long. Duke Erickson was executed on the King of Dodor’s orders for privately minting gold coins and resisting the Royal tax collectors. Tao De tried to pledge allegiance to Viscount Negus but failed to complete the Viscount’s task and instead became a prisoner of the House of Randell. He had once again become a stray dog without a master.

This series of events made Tao De realize one thing profoundly: for an apprentice knight to lose his master was to lose everything.

Tao De’s bloodline was weak, he had no potential, and he carried the stain of having lost a master. It was almost impossible for any lord to accept him again. He cut his face and disfigured himself, voluntarily becoming a laborer in Raven Town. Beyond his fear of death, it was more that he was unwilling to give up his status as a Knight-Noble. And the status of a Knight-Noble stemmed from one’s bloodline and was dependent on a master.

Viscount Randell, with his noble bloodline, was his only hope.

Now, over a year of enduring humiliation to survive had finally paid off.

Eight days ago, Viscount Randell’s Captain of the Personal Guard had brought him to the secret fortress of the House of Randell. The Viscount’s potion-maker brought him a bottle of golden potion and told him to drink it.

Since he was now in the core territory of the House of Randell, disobedience meant death!

Tao De had no other choice, and in truth, he had made his choice long ago. He downed the potion without hesitation and circulated his Aura under the potion-maker’s guidance.

Something miraculous happened.

The golden potion that settled in his stomach continuously produced Aura. The total amount and duration of the circulating Aura were actually three times greater than usual! Tao De instinctively used this surge of Aura to stimulate his dormant Elemental Nodes. Soon, the fifth Elemental Node began to resonate, followed by the sixth, the seventh…

For the next three days, Tao De took three potions daily and resonated with the eleven lower-level Elemental Nodes, advancing from an initial-rank apprentice knight to a senior apprentice knight. For the last five days, he continued to take the potion, but the final wind element node remained completely unresponsive.

Tao De stared at the patterns on the spider’s back, lost in a daze. After a long while, he finally let out a long sigh.

“You are troubled?”

A faint voice came from the doorway. Tao De turned his head to see the handsome and imposing Viscount Randell walk in, followed by four guards clad in peculiar leather armor, holding longswords.

He scrambled to his knees, saying in terror, “Lord Randal, I have disappointed you. I still failed to break through the barrier and resonate with the last Elemental Node today.”

The four leather-armored swordsmen stood in the four corners of the room, faintly surrounding Tao De. Victor sat down in the main seat of the barracks and said with a light laugh, “Are you afraid I’ll kill you?”

Tao De touched his forehead to the floor and said submissively, “My lord, the golden potion can help an apprentice knight with a cleansed bloodline resonate with dormant Elemental Nodes, reaching the level of a senior apprentice knight. This must be your greatest secret. But I have not yet earned your trust, nor have I resonated with all twelve lower-level Elemental Nodes to step into the Bronze-rank. If you give me a chance, I will prove to you that my loyalty is no less than that of your Mystic Warriors.”

“It costs me several thousand Gold Sols to train a single Mystic Warrior. You have used a total of twenty-four of my golden potions. How much do you think one golden potion is worth?” Victor asked with great interest.

“Inestimable!” Tao De’s voice was hoarse, and cold sweat beaded on his forehead and back.

“A single top-tier cleansing potion is worth two thousand Gold Sols. Let’s value one golden potion at one thousand Gold Sols. Twenty-four of them would still be twenty-four thousand Gold Sols.” Victor’s tone shifted as he said leisurely, “I’ve spent over twenty thousand gold coins on you. It wasn’t to kill you.”

Tao De struggled to suppress his excitement, his voice deep, “Tao De is willing to go through fire and water for my lord! Whatever your command, I will not shirk from it, even in the face of ten thousand deaths!”

“There is indeed something I need you to do…”

Victor fell silent for a long moment before saying, “First, tell me about your experience taking the potion.”

Tao De raised his head, the three hideous scars on his face twisting into a chilling, bitter smile, “It’s the same as the past two days. The Aura stimulated by the golden potion is based on my own Aura; its strength and purity are insufficient to resonate with all twelve Elemental Nodes simultaneously. The effect of the golden potion is balanced and stable, without any flaws of its own. It is my own bloodline that limits my achievements.”

“Then do you think the golden potion can help an apprentice knight who awakened their Aura naturally to advance to a full Knight?” Victor asked.

“Definitely!” Tao De further explained, “A naturally awakened apprentice knight’s Aura purity and volume far exceed mine. Since the golden potion can triple the user’s Aura, it’s entirely possible for them to resonate with twenty-four Elemental Nodes. As for whether they can resonate with the twenty-fifth, I do not know.”

Victor nodded and asked, “Have you ever heard of secret knights?”

“I have not,” Tao De shook his head, looking bewildered.

“The great families will adopt some noble scions with weaker bloodlines, provide them with resources to help them awaken their Aura, and have them command the family’s spies to handle unsavory business.” Victor continued, “Because the cost of cultivating secret knights is even higher than that of ordinary knights, the great families generally do not send them on suicide missions. As long as a secret knight renders sufficient meritorious service to the family, they can be enfeoffed with land, receive a lordship, and become a true noble.”

Tao De hurriedly and loudly declared, “Lord Randal, I am willing to be your secret knight.”

Victor scoffed, “Secret knights are cultivated from childhood and are completely loyal to their family. You are too old.” He then added slowly, “However, I have a task that requires a new face. If you can complete my mission, I will permit you to perform the joining of hands with me.”

“My lord, you have only to command!”

Victor mused, “I’ve read the autobiography you wrote. You were born in the Eastern Alliance. Do you know of the Masked Brotherhood?”

Tao De shook his head. “My lord, I fled my family before I was eleven. I no longer remember much of my life in the Eastern Alliance.”

Victor stared into Tao De’s eyes for a good while before looking away and saying, “The Masked Brotherhood is currently engaged in a bloody battle with my men in the Dodor Kingdom. I need to send a group to reinforce my subordinates. You will go with them and use the blood of the Masked Brotherhood to prove your loyalty to me. Once this matter is settled, I will have a priest remove the scars from your face and grant you the identity of a secret knight.”

“My lord, your will is my mission!” Tao De said, kneeling on one knee with his head bowed.

“Rise.” Victor gave a slight nod and stood up. “The reinforcements leave tonight. Rest well in this room. Someone will come for you when it is time.” With that, he, along with Reno and Jack, pulled open the wooden door and walked out of the barracks.

Outside the barracks, a gentle wind stirred restlessly, blowing yellow leaves from the shaded trees.

“The Season of Wind has come,” Victor said, reaching out his hand as if to grasp the formless wind. “In Huaxia, autumn is the season of harvest, but also the season of decline… It presides over austerity and death!”

Reno scratched his head and asked, “My lord, where are you going now?”

“Let’s go!” Victor withdrew his hand and strode forward. “We’re going to the Alchemy Tower.”

Chapter 395: Probing

Alchemy Tower No. 7 had always retained the appearance of the original mountain cave. The outer cavern, over seven hundred square meters in size, was piled with all sorts of miscellaneous supplies, making one assume it was a natural cave used for storage.

Victor and Reno followed the stone steps, turning into the passage that led to the inner cave. The braziers set into the stone walls were unlit, leaving the entire cavern dim and without light. With the dim vision of a Moon Elf, Victor could see his surroundings clearly, but the mountain wind that blew in through the vents carved by the Halflings scraped against the rock walls, producing a mournful howl that constantly tormented his pointed ears.

The inner cave was less than a third of the size of the antechamber. It concealed an ever-flowing clear spring, whose icy water ran through an artificially dug channel, passed through the mountain, and gurgled down to the camp below. The cave was dark and damp, its rock walls covered in fluorescent moss that cast a faint glimmer, painting the central stone platform a shade of green.

This was a place where the four void elements converged. When the Alchemy Tower engaged in void creation, the water vapor in the air would condense into a visible mass of void water element, shining in concert with the other three elements, demonstrating the profound mysteries of the Law of Creation.

But Victor was not here today to admire the miracle of void creation.

He placed a bottle of Restoration Potion on the stone platform and connected his consciousness to the Tower Spirit. “King.”

“Welcome back, My lord,” the Tower Spirit immediately responded.

“This is a Type I Restoration Potion produced by the Alchemical militia. King, give it an appraisal,” Victor commanded in his mind.

“Yes.” King quickly gave an answer: “Four hundred Gold Sol.”

“The price is very fair, and yet very unfair.”

Victor nodded, then shook his head. “The ingredients for the Restoration Potion are natural resources. The portion collected by the Alchemical militia has almost no cost, and the materials brought back by the Caravan do not exceed sixty Gold Sol at most. However, a Type I Restoration Potion can provide a Knight with a stable supply of Aura. This means that Restoration Potions can help an apprentice knight cleansing their bloodline to resonate with more Elemental Nodes, and can help a naturally awakened apprentice knight break through to the Knight realm without the drawback of solidifying Elemental Nodes. It can also help High-ranked Knights recover and increase their total Aura in battle!”

“A top-grade Vigor Potion is worth one thousand Gold Sol. How many gold coins should a Restoration Potion, which is more than ten times better, be worth?”

King responded, “My lord, it would be unfair to measure the value of the Restoration Potion from a static point of view. Firstly, Vigor Potions will be rendered obsolete by Restoration Potions. Secondly, to increase their own strength, lords will recruit more noble scions with a knight’s bloodline. The price of cleansing potions will certainly see a significant increase, while the price of Restoration Potions can only be maintained at a relatively low level. Otherwise, the lords will not be able to afford them, and they will not hesitate to wage war until a new equilibrium is reached.”

“Well said! But you cannot deny that the appearance of the Restoration Potion has enhanced the Fortune of the Knight class.” Victor picked up the Restoration Potion from the stone platform, studied it for a moment, and passed it to Reno beside him. He chuckled in his mind, “The Restoration Potion improves the strength of Knights, and the Stance practice recorded in X-3 allows Sacred Warriors to advance even further… Tell me, is this a coincidence?”

King responded, “Improving the strength of humanity to cope with unknown changes. My lord, does this not align with your will?”

“Of course!” Victor raised an eyebrow, sighing in his heart. “First came the superior-grade ingredient, Blue Taro, which can strengthen the connection of Gold Knights to the real world, allowing them to freely study extraordinary martial arts and look towards the legendary realm. Then came the Restoration Potion, which enhances the strength of the entire Knight class… Such a coincidence is enough to make one’s hair stand on end.”

“My lord, I’m afraid this is not a coincidence, but an inevitability!” King explained, “You have already verified that Knights are the descendants of ancient Alchemists. It is only natural that the fruits of the Alchemical Empire’s civilization are centered on the interests of Knights.”

“That’s true…” Victor mused for a moment, then asked, “King, you have my memories. You should know about the Fermi Paradox, right?”

“The famous physicist from Earth, Fermi, while discussing UFOs and aliens with others, suddenly asked, ‘Where are they?’. This is the renowned Fermi Paradox,” King responded.

Victor smiled and said, “Then I will also ask: Where are they?”

The Fermi Paradox posits that if it takes humanity one million years to travel to various planets in the Milky Way, then any alien civilization that started just one million years before humans should have already reached Earth.

By the same logic, assuming that Alchemy Tower No. 7 was a tool for the revival of the Alchemical Empire, tens of thousands of years have passed. The Restoration Potion and Blue Taro should have appeared long ago.

“Unless you are a special individual,” King transmitted immediately. “This conclusion is indeed chilling!”

“A puppet on strings?” Victor sneered, his gaze cold. Then, he roused his spirits and said, “Let’s reorganize the information we have in chronological order.”

“Roughly forty thousand years ago, the Alchemical Empire encountered unknown invaders. The rigid Alchemical puppets could not withstand the enemy’s assault, so a certain Alchemist invented the Art of Void Creation, using Alchemical lifeforms to fight the foreign enemy. After a thousand years of war, they finally repelled the invaders.”

“Note that it was repelling, not annihilating the invaders,” Victor emphasized, then continued, “The Alchemical Empire suddenly collapsed for unknown reasons. But there are signs that the Mages’ Association of the Alchemical Empire took on the responsibility of continuing the race. They initiated the Era of the Chosen, protecting Knights and mortals. However, the Chosen and the Knight families established their own city-states, scattered across the world, and did not form a unified political body.”

King said, “Islands of civilization after the apocalypse, with obstructed communication and independent development. This indicates that the high-level leaders of the Alchemical Empire suddenly perished, and the major cities were partitioned and surrounded by some force, causing the Empire’s mid-level leaders to lose contact with the outside world, leading to the severing of the Alchemical civilization’s legacy.”

Victor nodded. “I have a question here. Since the extraordinary power of Alchemists comes from their Bloodline, and they do not intermarry with mortals, while Alchemical humans can satisfy all the Alchemists’ needs, what was the position of mortals in the Alchemical Empire? What was the meaning of their existence?”

King paused for two seconds before answering, “Mortals are the source of Mages.”

“Exactly right!” Victor chuckled. “If mortals were to go extinct, the Mages would be finished! In a sense, the Mages’ Association held a transcendent status in the Alchemical Empire. They were engrossed in the study of extraordinary power and did not directly interfere in secular governance, but they had to protect mortals. The early Chosen were like this, the Church is like this, and it was likely the same before the Alchemical Empire.”

“I seem to see the Mage kingdoms that existed before the Alchemical Empire. According to Tournans’s explanation of power, Knights walk towards the Elemental Sea, while others grope their way forward along the laws of the world’s origin. The spell models constructed by Mages are fixed, whereas the origin power of Knights has infinite plasticity. Thus, the Mages helped the Knights create Alchemy, because the Mages could not do it themselves and could only rely on the Knights. The two sides formed a political body where Knights ruled and Mages researched. The influence of this political structure continues to this day!”

Victor paused, frowning. “What’s puzzling is, why didn’t the Chosen recreate the Alchemical civilization?”

“Two possibilities: one, they couldn’t; two, they were unwilling,” said King.

“I believe both possibilities point to the mystery of the Alchemical Empire’s collapse!” Victor said in his mind. “The Fermi Paradox also has many possibilities. The most frightening conclusion is that any civilization that develops to a certain point ends up playing itself to death!”

“Perhaps the Alchemical Empire also did something it shouldn’t have!” Victor asked, “Do you know what I’m thinking?”

King responded, “My lord, I am limited by the Will Side; my thought processes are far less active than yours.” The subtext was: This servant cannot possibly guess.

Victor said, rather pleased with himself, “I have a bold hypothesis. The Alchemists and the Mages’ Association collaborated on a taboo research project—they were creating a god!”

“King, you once said that the Lord of Radiance’s behavior patterns resemble a program, didn’t you?”

“It is triggered by fixed conditions and lacks the diverse desires of a natural lifeform. These all fit the characteristics of a non-natural lifeform,” King replied.

“Mmm,” Victor agreed. “The first article of the Radiant Code: mortals shall not touch a god, nor shall they convey an oracle. While this certainly ensures a stable succession of power, there is a deeper secret hidden behind it. The Lord of Radiance works without speaking, serving humanity tirelessly and without complaint… The first Pope bullied it so, and it didn’t even have an opinion?”

“The Paladin Constantine said that Wizards listen to the voices of evil gods to steal knowledge and power and perfect their spell models. It’s clear the Mages’ Association was doing the same thing; they even developed Alchemy. When foreign enemies invaded the Alchemical Empire, the high-level leaders of the Mages’ Association, seeing the critical situation, actively communicated with the gods and learned the Art of Void Creation, which is to say, the Alchemy Towers. The price was sacrifices to the gods. However, Alchemy Towers must be built at the convergence of elements, their locations fixed. Alchemical creatures, limited by logistics and lifespans, could only defend, not go on expeditions. The Alchemical Empire drove away the invaders but could not escape the threat. The gods thus gained a continuous stream of sacrifices, but the Alchemical Empire was unwilling to offer sacrifices to the gods long-term. They wanted a once-and-for-all solution! Thus, the high-level leaders of the Alchemical Empire secretly researched the mysteries of the gods and created the Final Alchemical Lifeform—the Lord of Radiance.”

Victor spoke slowly, “I remember that the Alchemical combat units, the Dragon Warriors and Savi Warriors, both had the ability to be immune to soul intimidation. From this, we can see that the Alchemical Empire’s opponents were high-level beings on par with Dragons. Therefore, the Lord of Radiance’s greatest ability was not to bestow divine arts, or to create the peerless Radiant Angels, but to shift the Laws of the world, weakening the abilities of high-level extraordinary beings at their very root.”

“And it did exactly that. The first Pope used this to weaken the connection between the Chosen and the evil gods. But during the time of the Alchemical Empire, this ability of the Lord of Radiance caused the gods to panic. They concentrated their power to annihilate the high-level leaders of the Alchemical Empire and, by exploiting the loopholes in the Alchemy Towers, unleashed the Alchemical creatures, completely destroying the Alchemical Empire.”

“The gods taught the Art of Void Creation, yet deliberately left loopholes. They clearly had no good intentions. The Alchemists and the Mages’ Association secretly creating a god was a case of burning their bridges, and they too had no good intentions. In the end, the Alchemists and the Mage Council lost.” Victor pursed his lips. “The gods pinned the Mages and Knights to the ground and gave them a sound thrashing, making them never dare to dabble in Alchemy again.”

“The Alchemy Towers absorb Law Crystals not to recreate the Alchemical civilization, but out of the needs of war. The Alchemy Towers are too widely distributed. The Empire’s high-level leaders who had mastered alchemical technology couldn’t possibly manage every single tower. They created many Law Crystals and gave them to the leaders of various war zones for emergencies.” Victor said languidly, “Mmm, that’s more or less it.”

King said, “My lord, I understand your meaning, but there are logical loopholes. For example, if mortals are the source of Wizards, why did the Chosen perform Blood Sacrifices with mortals? For another, the Chosen’s Blood Sacrifices to evil gods directly led to the awakening of the Lord of Radiance. If the gods feared the Lord of Radiance, why would they incite the Wizards to perform Blood Sacrifices?”

Slap!

Victor slammed his palm on the stone platform, exclaiming, “A conspiracy! It’s a conspiracy!”

“The gods hold the knowledge of Alchemy. They could have taught the method of making Alchemy Towers to the Chosen and High-ranked Knights at any time. But don’t forget, the Alchemical Empire had another opponent. Those original invaders used some unknown means to make the Chosen perform Blood Sacrifices to the gods and kill one another, which prompted the Lord of Radiance to awaken. The first Pope Inoc was no match for the Wizards, so he borrowed the power of the Lord of Radiance to change the world’s Laws. At the same time, Inoc had selfish motives. He wanted his descendants to monopolize the authority over the Final Alchemical Lifeform, so he ordered the extermination of the Wizards who could compete with them, and also established the first article of the Radiant Code. The once-lofty Wizards became stray dogs without a master, their magical legacy completely severed. The connection between the gods and the Wizards was weakened, making communication extremely difficult, rendering it impossible to pass down the complete art of Alchemy.”

“This way, the invaders had no more rivals. But for some unknown reason, the gods still need sacrifices. They equally cannot tolerate the extinction of the Wizards, and by extension, they cannot tolerate the extinction of humanity. So, I arrived!”

“I am the savior of the gods!” Victor declared with immense bravado.

But King mercilessly pointed out, “Respected Master, your subjective speculations have many self-contradictory points.”

“Since the high-level leaders of the Alchemical Empire wanted to use the Lord of Radiance to completely eliminate the invaders, why would the invaders want to awaken the Final Alchemical Lifeform? Since the Laws of the world have already changed and the extraordinary power of the invaders has been weakened, can they defeat the Church, which possesses the Lord of Radiance?”

Victor had originally thought that with the Alchemy Tower, he could run rampant without restraint, but in reality, the Alchemy Tower was not even a match for the Church.

The Alchemy Tower required wealth; the Church only required faith. The Alchemy Tower had a Soul Fire limit; the clergy were endless. The individual Alchemical creatures were powerful, but the Church could summon Radiant Angels, and the Lord of Radiance could beat the gods into the ground… It couldn’t compare in cost, couldn’t compare in numbers, and couldn’t even compare in quality… If one were to view the Alchemy Tower as an Alchemical lifeform, the gap between it and the Lord of Radiance was generational, and more than just one generation apart.

King continued, “The powerful Lord of Radiance is helpless against the beastmen, and the Church, which has mastered divine arts, is even weaker than the Wizards of the Era of the Chosen.”

“Selfish motives! Purely selfish motives!” Victor argued, somewhat flustered. “The Alchemists and the Mages’ Association were the ones who created the Lord of Radiance. Inoc never received the mage education of the Alchemical Empire. He was afraid the Council of the Chosen would seize control of the Lord of Radiance, and his descendants did not Respect the Knights. Now, the legacy of spell models has been broken, the divine arts have never been updated, and the Golden Generation of Knights has become a Bronze Generation. Without Wizards and High-ranked Knights, how could the clergy of the Church alone possibly defeat the beastmen…”

King responded, “Respected Master, your hypothesis does not consider the factor of extraordinary creatures, the factor of beastmen, the factor of barbarians and elves, the factor of goblins, or the factor of non-humans. Therefore, it is impossible to arrive at the correct answer. Moreover, your judgment lacks supporting evidence.”

“Uh… alright, I admit there are still many unsolved mysteries in history…” Victor was at a loss for words, then flew into a rage from shame and humiliation. “None of that is the point! The point is splitting the soul!”

He took a deep breath to calm himself and transmitted his thoughts, “I am not a Knight, nor am I a Wizard. This shows that ordinary people can also activate an Alchemy Tower; the only condition is soul-splitting. According to the Fermi Paradox, it has been over nine thousand years since the Lord of Radiance changed the Laws. If the gods wanted to activate the Alchemy Towers, the legacy of the Alchemical Empire should have appeared long ago! Why is there not the slightest trace of it?”

“There are too many possibilities. There is no point in speculating!” King replied.

“I am more inclined to believe that I am irreplaceable,” Victor deliberately emphasized his own value.

King responded steadily, “My lord, from what is known, that is impossible.”

Victor fell silent for a moment, then said, “King, if I die, you will die, and the Alchemy Tower will await its next operator. I suspect that soul-splitting has a huge flaw, which is why the Alchemists and Mages allowed mortals to control the Alchemy Towers. Since mortals can operate the powerful Alchemy Towers, the Alchemical Empire couldn’t have lacked a means of control. For example, if a sliver of his Soul Fire can control an Alchemical creature, then a Mage and an Alchemist can likewise control another sliver of his soul fire.”

“All I want to know right now is, am I being controlled?” Victor finally asked the most crucial question, waiting quietly and nervously for the answer. He was not waiting for the answer itself, but for who would give it.

King responded without hesitation, “My lord, I am controlled by you, and I take pride in it. Judging by my situation, the fact that you can ask such a question clearly indicates that no one is controlling you.”

Victor was somewhat disappointed, but also relieved. He mulled it over for a long time, then said as if to himself, “Mmm, I am free, and there are no so-called competitors. If the invaders appear again, there’s always the Lord of Radiance, the Church’s clergy, and the armies of the various kingdoms. If it really comes down to it, I’ll just hide far away. The Alchemy Tower can just stay here. I can use it or not use it.”

King’s reply was the same as always. “My lord, I obey your will.”

“…” Victor said, vexed, “I’m leaving! The Alchemy Tower will continue to produce alchemical creatures. Reserve five hundred points of Soul Fire from the twelve thousand three hundred and eighty points. Use the rest of the Soul Fire to maintain six Alchemical Dragon-Lizards, two hundred Alchemical Warhounds, six hundred alchemical crows, three hundred Lithe Ape militiamen, and one hundred and fifty Crouching Ox Militiamen. Use the remainder to produce Alchemical auxiliary soldiers, loading them with Spirit Monkey Mystic Form, Ranged Weapon Mastery, and rotating the three production skills.”

“Production queue established,” King transmitted. “Current remaining Soul Fire: 500 points. Remaining funds: 64,700 Gold Sol.”

Victor shook his head and turned to leave the cave.

Outside the cave, the sun shone brilliantly, but Victor’s mood was an indescribable mix of relief and frustration.

This had been a probe, a test to see if there was an extraordinary being behind the Tower Spirit. If there was, it was better to force it out into the open than to let it hide in the dark.

Victor had weighed the risks for a long time. He believed his own value was irreplaceable, and he had wagered his life and freedom on it. In any case, the worst outcome was death, a difficult thing to change. If he won the bet, there might still be a chance for a turnaround.

However, the probe did not achieve the desired effect. King’s performance was impeccable, and Victor began to wonder if he was overthinking things.

As for mothballing the Alchemy Tower, that was just talk.

The threat of the Ant-men was foreseeable and unavoidable. On the other hand, the Masked Brotherhood had produced the Bloodboil Potion and color-changing dye. The bone structure of the Brotherhood’s elite warriors was as if from the same mold as the Church’s Sacred Warriors, and the Sacred Warriors’ secret training arts originated from the Chosen.

Did this indicate that the shadow of the Mage Council was behind the Brotherhood?

The Boreans’ behavior of fighting Sophia’s merchant association to the bitter end was baffling. Victor now had no choice but to suspect they had also obtained the formula for the Restoration Potion.

Did this in turn mean that the remnants of the Chosen’s Council had already infiltrated the eastern human kingdoms?

Back then, the little Baron had been inexplicably ambushed by a Wizard. Immediately after, Raymond Peter, the eldest son of the Borui ducal family, had inexplicably sent men to assassinate nobles with elven bloodline.

What was the connection between these events?

It was precisely because of these opponents, both overt and covert, that Victor had to continue developing his own strength at the original pace.

This adjustment to the production tasks would gradually reduce the number of Alchemical militia and increase the number of Alchemical auxiliary soldiers to nine hundred, in preparation for the expansion of his mercenary legion, Quicksilver, and The Golden Company. Of course, if he found any trace of a Law Crystal, he would absolutely not let it go.

The curtain on a new era had been raised. Everyone wanted to stand at the pinnacle of power in this new era; everyone was striving to get ahead. Sylvia was contending, the Pope was contending, Sophia was contending, the Auguste family was contending, the Radiant Knights were contending… In such a spectacular era, how could the master of the Alchemy Tower not contend?

Victor stepped out into the sunlight and smiled at Reno. “Narsen and the others have completed their body reconstruction. It’s time I returned to Silver Moon Manor to see His Holiness the Pope off.”

Chapter 396: Proverb

Rows of ramrod-straight Hemlock trees stood like loyal soldiers, guarding the smooth, wide, tree-lined avenue. The sense of direction and security it provided made one want to seek out the road’s end.

This road led to Wildwillow City. The Pope would travel from Laketon to Wildwillow City in Bryat’s fief, then turn north, passing through Vistock City of the Wellington family, and head straight for the Royal Capital of Gambis—Brinol.

There, the young Prince Edward Auguste awaited His Holiness the Pope to place the crown upon his head, accept the fealty of his vassals, and be formally crowned as the ruler of Gambis.

Two large, covered carriages were parked by the side of the road. Each was pulled by two Raelian Pureblood draft horses, both as white as snow. The carriage bodies were trimmed with silver, their sides unadorned with ornate carvings. The design was simple yet substantial, exuding a sacred and solemn aura. Twenty mid-rank Sacred Warriors, mounted on Horned Wolves as large as robust horses, stood guard around the two carriages. Following them were eight supply wagons and sixty initial-rank Sacred Warrior cavalry.

The Pope’s procession was ready to depart.

Clement and Victor stood by the woods at the side of the road. He wore a fine linen papal robe, the Papal Tiara on his head, and held the Platinum Angel Scepter. His features were as sharp as a sculpture, his gaze calm, his bearing majestic.

When he arrived, he and Tournans had disguised themselves as commoners, mingling with the faithful to fully experience the local culture of the Randell Fief. As he left, he was attended by a cloud of retainers in a magnificent procession, displaying all the dignity of his generation’s Pope.

Clement was not only a Legendary Priest who wielded the authority of the Church’s Curia, but also a Knight who had unified mind and body, with personal martial prowess sufficient for self-protection.

A great man with power but no strength would inevitably be surrounded by guards, never free within a ten-meter radius. An expert with strength but no power had influence that stretched no further than a thousand meters; beyond ten li, he too had no freedom.

Victor was quite envious of Clement. Although he possessed both strength and power, his physical features were too conspicuous, especially his pointed ears. He would be recognized wherever he went.

Once, he had donned a hood and snuck into Laketon’s liveliest tavern. The noise in the tavern went from a roar to a whisper, and finally to dead silence. The revelers inside didn’t dare to breathe too loudly. One by one, they came over to bow before quietly slipping away. In the end, even the tavern’s backer, Monkey, had hurried over, waiting respectfully for his master’s instructions.

Victor hadn’t known whether to laugh or cry, and from then on, he avoided crowded places.

Tournans, clad in crocodile-hide armor, strode over after arranging the convoy. He called out to Victor from afar, “Victor, your House of Randell’s crocodile-hide armor is really something! To think you’ve layered six-legged crocodile and Giant Python hides together with fine vine armor in between. This is much better than the crocodile-hide armor from the Eastern Alliance.” His volume didn’t change one bit as he walked from a distance to stand before them.

The bald Sacred Warrior enthusiastically clapped Victor on the shoulder, then rotated his right arm to show off his efforts. “I put in a lot of work reshaping Narsen’s body. That stupid bear’s muscles are as tough as old cowhide, and his bones are hard as steel. And then there’s Caligula, all that useless fat. Massaging those two has made my arm sore to this day…”

Victor smiled elegantly. “Lord Tournans, I won’t be a single piece short on the tithe for the crocodile-hide and Vine-hide armor. As for the manufacturing technique for the Vine-hide armor… you can discuss that with Lady Sylvia.”

“Then forget it.”

Clement took over the conversation, instructing, “Victor, a lord settling refugees is a noble act. I hope the House of Randell can become a paragon for all lords.”

On this trip to the Centaur Hills, he had seen many novel things in the Randell Fief. The Vine-hide armor was a rather outstanding piece of military equipment, but the original Ox-Subduing Mystic Form was the journey’s greatest reward.

The Gryphon Combat Technique that Tournans created based on the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form allowed Sacred Warriors to cultivate their inner potential from a young age. Not only did it increase their combat strength and save the Church a great deal of expensive body-strengthening potions, but it also extended the lifespan of Sacred Warriors, giving more of them the opportunity to advance to mid- and high-rank clergy.

The Gryphon Combat Technique alone was enough for the Curia to extend the Templars’ influence into the Temple Army. Tournans’s outstanding merit would be remembered by all Sacred Warriors, and Clement, as the leader of the Curia, would also benefit.

The impact of the Gryphon Combat Technique was far-reaching, but it was already a settled matter. What remained on Clement’s mind was the Pope’s primary duty. Only by doing his job well could he advance and retreat freely, and the settlement of refugees was linked to a series of subsequent plans.

Victor said, “Your Holiness, the House of Randell has already adjusted its refugee settlement policy. I will open the border outposts and guarantee the reception of at least six hundred refugees per month. During the four months of the Season of Water, the number the Randell Fief accepts will double. Any more than that, and I’m afraid it will affect the livelihood of the populace. However, Lady Sylvia has indicated that the vassal lords of the York family will adopt a similar policy. We estimate that in the next ten years, more than half of Gambis’s refugees can settle down in the Centaur Hills.”

“Excellent,” Clement said with a smiling nod.

With the dioceses of the Centaur Hills and the Kingdom of Naville settling refugees on a large scale, the bishops of other dioceses would have ample reason to pressure their lords, and the Curia could ensure the orderly flow of the population. For Clement, resettling the refugees was an unprecedented challenge. The slightest misstep could see him toppled from the papal throne by his rivals, but the power to redistribute population resources was also an unimaginably formidable force. With this power in his grasp, he had countless ways to make a fiefdom teeter on the brink of collapse or to help a certain lord rise to prominence. Compared to this power, ceding control over two major dioceses was a trivial price to pay.

Clement was very satisfied with Victor’s attitude, but when he saw Father Miller bustling about the convoy, his gaze faltered slightly. After a moment of contemplation, he said tactfully, “Victor, secular matters belong to the lord, and spiritual matters to the Church. If Miller makes any unreasonable demands of you, you may appeal to Bishop Pello. He will make appropriate arrangements.”

The God-favored were all fanatics, and to make matters worse, their power was exceptionally great. Powerful fanatics always acted according to their own will, bossing around secular lords and unflinchingly scolding their own superiors. In the eyes of the Church’s upper echelons, these inflexible God-favored were a real headache, which was why they were often dispatched to preach in the harshest regions and rarely stayed in one place for long.

Throughout the Church’s history, some particularly powerful God-favored had appeared. The divine arts they cast often had incredible effects, even breaking the very limits of the divine arts themselves. Take the first Pope Inoc, for example. His holy light was completely unbound by divine art models, possessing the effects of healing, enhancement, and chastisement all at once.

Miller was undoubtedly one of this kind of God-favored. His divine arts were not of a high level, but his holy power was incredibly pure. A single healing spell could bring the dying back from the brink of death, and the holy power left in Caligula’s body had actually stirred Tournans’s envy.

Clement was very worried that Miller, adhering to traditional doctrines, would become a stumbling block for the reform of church affairs in the Randell Fief. However, Miller’s influence in the fief was second to none; almost all the newborns of the vassal families of the Randell Fief had been personally baptized by him.

The tithe in the Randell Fief was to be changed from an annual collection to a quarterly one. If they were to replace the head priest now, the vassals of the Randell Fief would surely band together to create numerous obstacles and resist the new tithe collection method. Moreover, Viscount Randell had already made it clear that he hoped Miller would continue to preside over the Randell Fief’s church affairs.

For now, the only solution was to let Miller continue as the head priest of the Randell Fief, with Father Davy secretly guiding the reforms and gradually expanding his own influence to eventually take over Miller’s position. Before that, the Pope had to give Viscount Randell a reminder, lest Miller truly overstep his authority and obstruct their cooperation.

Victor understood the Pope’s intentions perfectly.

In the beginning, the population of the Randell Fief was too small, and a mere two thousand people made it difficult to hide the presence of the Alchemical humans. That was why Victor had sought to keep Father Miller. Now, the population under the House of Randell’s rule exceeded eighty thousand, more than enough to provide a perfect cover for several hundred Alchemical humans. Even if the Randell Fief changed its head priest, it would be difficult for the Church to notice anything amiss.

However, after spending so much time together, the House of Randell and Miller had developed a deep friendship. Moreover, Miller was not an inflexible God-favored. In fact, the Church had knocked a bit of slyness into him, but his nature remained kind and simple. Getting along with him required very little scheming.

It was precisely because of this friendship that Father Miller could influence everyone in the Randell Fief, from top to bottom, and the House of Randell could likewise influence Miller. Whenever there was a dispute, Miller would storm over to find Victor, get lectured and persuaded by him, and then go back smiling.

Replace the head priest? No one in the House of Randell was willing.

“Thank you for your concern, Your Holiness. Actually… Father Miller is well-versed in church affairs and exceptionally capable… We cooperate very happily!” Victor quickly sang Miller’s praises to the Pope.

“Then I am relieved.” Clement nodded and waved Miller over.

Miller came over at a trot and bowed respectfully. “Your Holiness, what are your orders?”

Clement looked him up and down and said sternly, “Look at you. You’re only fifty-six, yet you look older than sixty-five. The Church’s express prohibition on priests overusing their divine arts seems to have no effect on you at all.”

Miller was meek and submissive, nodding in agreement. Clement shook his head and admonished him earnestly, “The faithful who rely on relief aid will surely grow lazy. Those who rely on divine arts will grow reckless. You must understand, to redeem the faithful is to redeem not only their bodies, but also their souls.”

“Yes! Your Holiness’s teachings, Miller will hold them dear to his heart.” The old priest bowed slightly, then straightened up, looked Clement in the eye, and said solemnly, “All glory to the Lord. Miller hopes Your Holiness will remember: Our Lord is not the Lord; the Lord is not our Lord!”

Utterly blasphemous!

All the high-ranking clergy present turned pale, but as soon as they met Miller’s cloudy pupils, they felt as if they were gazing upon a brilliant holy light and were overcome with an urge to prostrate themselves in worship. Only then did they realize that the old priest before them was the God-favored closest to the Supreme Lord! How could his words be blasphemy!

After pondering it carefully, they discovered this proverb seemed to contain infinite mysteries. The clergy couldn’t help but fall into deep thought, and the scene fell silent.

Victor was completely baffled but could sense the delicate atmosphere of the moment, so he stood quietly to the side. After a while, Clement was the first to return to his senses. He gave Miller a deep look and nodded. “We should be on our way.”

Victor gritted his teeth and spoke up, “Your Holiness, there is one more thing… That… the Briatte family was once… seemingly targeted by a Wizard… which involved me… I wanted to ask, does the Church have any way to help an ordinary noble like myself defend against Wizardry?”

This was a very serious accusation.

Clement vaguely knew that the changes in the Briatte family were related to the Dodor Kingdom, and that great lords did indeed have a habit of keeping Wizards. But at this moment, he was in no mood to discuss other matters. He simply shook his head and led Tournans and two other high-ranking clergy to board the first carriage.

The leader of the Horned Wolves let out a long howl, and the convoy started to move slowly. Narsen led the Swiftbird light cavalry to the very front of the procession to guide the Pope.

Inside the carriage, Clement closed his eyes in contemplation, while the others also meditated.

After about half an hourglass, Clement opened his eyes. Meeting the questioning gazes of his confidants, he asked, “Tournans, what are your thoughts?”

The First Sacred Warrior’s intuition was the sharpest. He said in a low voice, “For the path of the seventh-rank priest, there is danger, and there is opportunity.”

“My lord!” Casey, the Sacred Warrior, looked at Clement in pleasant surprise, her beautiful eyes shimmering with a strange light.

Anwen, a fifth-rank battle priest, was also excited. “Our Lord is not the Lord; the Lord is not our Lord… Understanding this proverb allows one to advance to Spirit Priest?”

Clement smiled faintly. “Understanding is merely to know the truth; knowing the truth is not the same as mastering it. The path of the Spirit Priest emphasizes comprehension, and comprehension requires personal practice. Miller has offered his understanding. This is a footprint left by a God-favored. We can use it for direction, but we cannot walk forward by stepping in his footprints.”

“All glory to the Lord!” they chanted in unison.

Casey raised her head and asked in awe, “Is Miller a Spirit Priest?”

“Whether he is or not is unimportant to him, and unimportant to us!” Clement shook his head, his gaze shifting to the window.

A Spirit Priest? I’m afraid he’s more than that…

“This saying must not be spread! And let the matter of Miller end here. Do not let anyone else notice this God-favored.” Clement retracted his gaze, hesitated for a moment, then added, “Including Pello. He cannot know either!”

The convoy gradually disappeared into the distance. Victor walked over to Miller and nudged him in the ribs with his elbow. “You spoke such outrageous words, how come the Pope didn’t punish you? What does ‘Our Lord is not the Lord; the Lord is not our Lord’ even mean?”

Miller pushed Victor’s arm away and shot him a sidelong glance. “You’re not a follower of our Lord. Even if I told you, would you understand?”

“How am I not a follower of the Supreme Lord?” Victor retorted indignantly. “You tell me, is there a more devout lord than I?”

“Pah!” Miller spat on the ground and said disdainfully, “You believe in jack squat!”

“Old man, do you know the Pope was just thinking of replacing you?” Victor said menacingly.

“Don’t I have you to back me up?” Miller said with a wide grin.

“Good that you know!” Victor’s face broke into a smile, then he put on a stern expression again. “I was just about to ask the Pope for a divine art item to defend against Wizards, and you ruined my chance! How are we going to settle this score?”

Miller’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What do you need that kind of thing for? A divine art item can defend against one type of Wizardry, but can it defend against a second? Didn’t I tell you that carrying a coin inscribed with the mark of the Holy Mountain can resist all Wizardry? Of course, the Purple Gold Coin is the most effective. It’s the most expensive!”

“You don’t believe me, do you?” After speaking, he turned and stalked off in a huff.

“Hey! What does that sentence mean? If you don’t tell me, I’ll ask someone else!” Victor shouted after him.

“Go ahead and shout about it if you’re not afraid of death!” Miller said without turning his head.

Victor shook his head. He really didn’t dare to go around spouting words like “Our Lord is not the Lord; the Lord is not our Lord.” He pulled a gleaming, well-worn Purple Gold Coin from his pocket and murmured, “For that old charlatan to be able to bluff the Pope, he must have some real skill!”

“A God-favored of the Lord of Radiance… Hehe, this is getting more and more interesting!”

Victor carefully put the Purple Gold Coin away and walked with a light step toward his Swiftbird mount.

Chapter 397: The Crazed Barol

By dusk, in the castle of Laketon.

Narsen led a squad of Swiftbird light cavalry across the drawbridge over the moat.

Two guards standing watch by the bridge came forward to greet them. “Lord Narsen, the Master and My Lady Lilia are waiting for you in the watchtower at the top of the castle.”

“I’ll go see the Master now.” Narsen dismounted from his Swiftbird, unfastened his battleaxe and shortsword, and handed them along with the reins to the guards. He then turned and ordered, “The light cavalry will rest in the castle courtyard and await Lord Randal’s summons.”

With that, he strode into the castle. The Swiftbird light cavalry squad passed straight through the castle gates and into the central courtyard.

Narsen ascended the spiral staircase to the castle’s highest watchtower. Reno and Shak were guarding the door to the attic. Seeing him approach, they pushed the wooden door open.

The circular room in the attic was only 2.4 meters high and about twenty-five square meters in area. Three rows of wooden shelves were nailed to the thick stone walls. In the center of the attic stood a desk and four chairs, and the floor was covered with a soft woolen carpet. The whole room felt cramped and crowded, yet it gave off an inexplicable sense of warmth and security.

The larger the space, the smaller a person feels, inducing feelings of humility and fear. The smaller the space, the taller it makes a person seem, which in turn breeds the confidence that everything is under control.

The watchtower attic was isolated and high up, with no adjacent rooms. The only way in or out was the spiral staircase, making it a perfect place for secret conversations.

Narsen was battle-hardened and strong-willed, so the change in space could not move his heart, but Victor’s trust in him and his sister filled him with a heartfelt sense of intimacy and satisfaction.

“My lord, I have returned.” Narsen lowered his head and bent his waist, stepping through the wooden doorway and addressing Victor.

Lilia sat elegantly on a chair, her dress neat, but her cheeks were flushed like peach blossoms and her eyes held a flirtatious springtime charm. When she saw her brother enter, she shot him an unfriendly glare.

“What, did I come at a bad time?” Narsen chuckled, teasing her.

Lilia’s pretty face immediately turned beet red. Her almond eyes, now filled with murderous intent, glared fiercely at Narsen. She gritted her teeth and said, “I hear someone is pursuing that songstress who performed at the Military Parade. I believe her name is Joanna.”

“Linda told me to pursue her,” Narsen said, spreading his hands with an innocent look.

Lilia narrowed her eyes and sneered, “I can have Joanna’s song and dance troupe expelled from the Randell Fief!”

“My lord, look!” Narsen pointed at his sister, complaining to Victor. “She’s using her position for personal revenge!”

Victor laughed heartily. He pressed down on Lilia’s small, fair hand and said, “Joanna’s performance of the ‘Dawn War Song’ at the Military Parade was a great success. She has become an idol in the hearts of the mercenaries. I fully support the Legion Commander in marrying her.”

“You’re getting off easy,” Lilia huffed, then added, “Lady Uriel of Rose Manor discreetly hinted to me that she thinks Lord Narsen should be prudent in choosing his legal partners. Brother, you can have one wife and three official consorts. Joanna can take one spot, but you cannot decide on the other two on your own.”

Victor nodded. “Marriage alliances are the rule in noble circles. My Lady Katerina is currently selecting a noblewoman for you, and I have already agreed. As for your other legal partner, I will still be the one to decide.”

“I have no objections,” Narsen said after a moment of silence. He sighed with worry, “I just hope the noblewoman from the York family doesn’t bully Linda and her two sons.”

“Linda must learn to compromise!” Lilia paused, then softened her tone, comforting him gently, “You are the Legion Commander of the Randall family. You will have no shortage of opportunities to achieve merits and expand our territory. In the future, do you still fear that my two nephews will have no inheritance?”

Hearing this, Narsen laughed and gave Lilia a thumbs up. “My little sister is indeed smarter than me, her older brother.”

“Alright. That’s enough of this topic.”

Victor waved his hand, motioning for Narsen to sit. He asked, “Has the Pontiff left the Randell Fief? Did they say anything to you?”

Narsen pulled over a chair and sat down, shaking his head. “They said nothing… Even Lord Tournans didn’t come down to greet me.”

Victor nodded lightly, then sized him up for a few moments and smiled. “Narsen, you’ve lost weight.”

“Alas, I’ve gotten weaker too.” Narsen clenched his fist and said cheerfully, “But I feel especially good!”

Everyone in the Randall family who had undergone the body reconstruction had changed to some degree.

The one who had changed the most was Caligula. More than half of the fat that could have rivaled an Ogre’s was gone, his muscles and bones had become sturdier, and his mismatched eyes had been corrected. He seemed to have gained a bit of spirit and no longer looked like a complete simpleton.

Even Tournans said Caligula’s body reconstruction was near perfect, though he also believed it was a complete waste. Because Caligula’s mind was as pure as a toddler’s, the reconstruction of his body and mind had completely followed the guidance of the level four divine art, fire of the mind, without any interference from his own will. But Caligula was basically a herbivore; his desire for proactive aggression was pitifully low. No matter how strong his physique became, he could never be a qualified warrior.

The one who had changed the least was Beldina. After seeing Victor, the little pudge-ball had tearfully hugged her master and complained about how much it hurt, then asked if she had grown taller. Victor looked her up and down before telling her, against his conscience, that she had grown a tiny bit.

Tournans said this was normal. Body reconstruction was just the beginning of the change; they would all undergo a second developmental phase afterward. The most direct change was a significant improvement in their digestive and absorption capabilities.

This was certainly a fact.

Including the sisters Lilia and Elina, everyone’s appetite had at least doubled. Bel and Aka’s appetites had tripled. Victor suspected they had never eaten their fill before, or had been secretly eating behind everyone’s backs, causing them to misjudge their appetite.

Observing the external changes with the naked eye might not have been obvious enough. But Victor’s elemental vision could directly see the effects of the body reconstruction.

Narsen’s Physique attribute had dropped from the original 24 points to the current 18, his Perception from 18 to 15, and his Life from 16 to 14. However, his Spirit attribute had increased by a full 2 points, reaching 15, the level of a primary Silver Knight, and even 1 point higher than Victor’s.

The Spirit attribute, which corresponded to the strength of one’s Soul Fire, was the most difficult attribute to improve. In truth, the Spirit attribute of everyone who underwent the body reconstruction had increased, but Narsen was the only one whose Spirit had increased by a full 2 points.

As for the decrease in the other three attributes, it could be seen as a form of physical rejuvenation. Narsen’s physique had become more pliable, and his perception and vitality had decreased accordingly, but his potential had also grown. As long as he maintained his nutrition and training, all four attributes would rapidly strengthen and move from extremity toward balance.

Even if Narsen couldn’t achieve the perfect balance of a Silver Knight, he was at least developing in the direction of unifying his three physical powers. His body’s coordination, reaction speed, movement speed, stamina, internal organ function, and spirit would all see significant improvement. This meant his muscle power output and explosiveness would become stronger, his movements more agile, his combat intuition sharper, and his aging process slower. Once he ignited the fire of the mind, he would have stepped firmly into the ranks of the Silver-rank.

Victor asked curiously, “Narsen, what did you feel during the body reconstruction?”

Lilia’s face turned pale, but Narsen said excitedly, “Pain! Excruciating pain! My body was in agony, but my mind was incredibly clear…” He smacked his lips and continued, “It was a very wonderful experience. It was as if I could see the Dragon’s Vein Potion repairing my muscles and bones… This might be what Tournans called the coexistence of reason and emotion. If I could enter that state at will, I must have ignited the fire of the mind!”

Victor sighed inwardly. X-3 could keep him perfectly rational, but it couldn’t harness the power of emotion. All his actions were to complete a preset goal, and he lacked independent thought and the ability to adapt in a fight. Changing his objective mid-battle would cause a brief delay, which was, in fact, a sign of lacking spiritual nimbleness.

It was just that his speed was too fast and his destructive power too strong, masking his own shortcomings. But if he were to face an opponent of the same rank, his rigid and stiff fighting style would be fatal.

This defect might be due to X-3, the drawbacks of soul-slicing, or differences in Bloodline. Whatever the reason, Victor had no solution for the time being. He could only follow the innate path of a Moon Elf.

Wait, that’s not right! I’m on the summoner path. Alchemical creatures are my eyes, my ears, my claws! They can extend my will thousands of kilometers away. What’s all this about fire of the mind and Touch of the Mind? They’re all just passing clouds!

Having shored up his mental defenses, Victor declared with high spirits, “Let’s get down to business!”

“Barol has run into trouble in the Dodor Kingdom.” Victor stood up, pulled a parchment map from a wooden shelf, and spread it on the table. “The Masked Brotherhood has successfully infiltrated the underworld of five major cities in the Dodor Kingdom: the Royal Capital of Estalos, Isqin, Mansil, Lyonchi, and of course, Stonetooth City.” His finger tapped the map as he continued, “The fact that the Brotherhood could achieve this is not unrelated to the indulgence of the Dodor lords. They are using the gangs in these five major cities to continuously recruit refugee thugs, supporting each other and solidifying an invincible position!”

“The Stag Merchants’ Guild is also a behemoth, but the guild’s Knights have been warned by the Dodor lords not to interfere in gang disputes. They can only hire mercenary companies and scoundrels, using freemen merchants as spies, to wage all-out war with their rivals.”

“But the Stag Merchants’ Guild hasn’t even figured out who their opponent is.” Victor leaned back in his chair and shook his head with a smile. “Mercenary companies are fine in a frontal clash, but when it comes to gang warfare in the city, they are no match for the Masked Brotherhood. Right now, aside from the gangs in Stonetooth City that are still fighting amongst themselves, the underworld in the other major cities already belongs to the Brotherhood.”

“Our people are helping the Stags in Stonetooth City,” Lilia explained to Narsen. “Quicksilver gathered men from the Kestrel Mercenary Company and The Bear Company, accepted employment from the Stag Guild under the guise of a refugee mercenary company, and has earned their trust.”

“In these six months, we’ve lost over two hundred men and killed over a hundred of the Brotherhood’s. Of course the Stags trust Barol,” Victor added.

Narsen immediately jumped to his feet. “How did we lose so many men? Is Barol an idiot?”

“Don’t get excited. Most of the dead were gang thugs Barol recruited on the fly.” Victor let out a long breath. “We’ve lost over forty of our own people as well. The Masked Brotherhood set a trap, used the power of the Stonetooth City Magistrate’s Office to uproot one of Barol’s secret strongholds, and an old pal of his, a spy, was killed.”

“Barol is still an idiot!” Narsen said indignantly. “Dumber than Aka!”

“It’s not Barol’s fault,” Victor said, shaking his head. “The Masked Brotherhood has the lords’ favor and controls the underworld of five major cities. They are much stronger than Barol!” He changed the subject. “However, we can keep this underground war going indefinitely!”

“Barol discovered that the Masked Brotherhood has a ‘shadow’ in Stonetooth City. As long as that shadow isn’t dealt with, the Brotherhood will be able to maintain its foothold there.” Victor smiled and said, “Of course, Barol is also a ‘shadow.’ As long as he is fine, Quicksilver will not be wiped out. So, Barol is hidden very well. Besides my Elite Guards, no one knows where he is.”

“Both the Shadow of the Mask and Barol want to find each other. If they can’t, what’s the point of fighting like this?”

“So, the Brotherhood’s people proposed negotiations. It might be another trap, or they might genuinely want to reconcile.” Victor took a letter from a drawer and handed it to Narsen. “This is a letter from Barol. He’s asking for my opinion and has proposed a plan.”

Narsen’s pupils contracted as he finished reading the letter. “Has Barol gone mad?” he muttered.

“My dear, I also think Barol’s plan is too crazy,” Lilia interjected. “I think he’s probably lost many of the family’s death commandos and is afraid he can’t answer to us. So, he’s proposed this insane operation knowing you won’t agree, deliberately giving himself a way out.”

“You two think Barol is crazy, but I think his idea is brilliant!”

Victor said with a smile, “Barol’s plan requires someone with status to attract the Masked Brotherhood’s attention, so I sent Tao De over.”

Lilia said hesitantly, “My dear, what if Tao De is captured by the people in Stonetooth City? He might expose us.”

“And what if he does? Don’t forget, I am Sophia’s husband. Shouldn’t I stand up for my wife?” Victor thought to himself: It would be perfect if Tao De revealed the Restoration Potion.

Barol planned to assassinate the magistrate of Stonetooth City during the negotiations. This way, Stonetooth City would be forced to sweep through all the gang forces, the Shadow of the Mask would have to leave the city, and Barol would have a chance to capture him. Even if Quicksilver failed to find their target’s tracks, they would have still destroyed the ambiguous relationship between the Brotherhood and Stonetooth City.

As Barol’s body double, it would be difficult for Tao De to escape notice in Stonetooth City. But he held the secret of the Restoration Potion, which would be an irresistible temptation for Marquess Dwemick of Stonetooth City.

The Marquess’s first move would be to verify this matter with the Randall family, not report it to the King or the Church. Because as long as Victor denied it resolutely, no one would believe the Randall family had anything to do with the Restoration Potion. In fact, even Marquess Dwemick himself wouldn’t dare believe it, unless Tao De could produce the potion.

The Restoration Potion was priceless, but if it wasn’t used, it was just junk. Since that was the case, he might as well use it to buy off powerful lords and tempt them into joining The Golden Company.

It could be said that the advent of the Restoration Potion made Barol’s plan nearly perfect. But Victor could not tell Narsen and his sister about the potion. This wasn’t about trust, but about their physical safety. After all, they did not possess a knight’s bloodline and were not under the protection of the Radiant Code.

“I have only sent Tao De to Stonetooth City; I haven’t agreed to Barol’s plan yet.” Victor tapped the tabletop lightly and asked, “What are your opinions? Do we negotiate, or do we continue fighting?”

Narsen and Lilia stared at each other, remaining silent. Openly assassinating a Knight-Noble was simply too stimulating for them to accept at once.

Victor sighed and said, “It seems Barol has thought this through more clearly. He hasn’t passed the news of the negotiations to the Stag Merchants’ Guild. Let me ask you, if the Stags found out that the Brotherhood proposed to negotiate, what would Sophia do?”

Lilia’s eyes lit up. “My Lady would definitely agree! Behind the Masked Brotherhood is the Kingdom of Borea. My Lady sent the Stags against the Brotherhood precisely to force the Boreans to the negotiating table.”

“Clever!” Victor said with a smile. “We are at war with the Brotherhood because they stand in Quicksilver’s way. We also want to annex the Stag Merchants’ Guild in the process. Therefore, we must push the Stag Merchants’ Guild to a dead end. We cannot let them pull out! Otherwise, Quicksilver will lose its cover and the opportunity to infiltrate the guild.”

“Then let’s keep fighting!” Narsen shouted, then scratched his head in confusion. “My lord, since you’ve already figured it all out, why did you ask us?”

Victor had indeed hesitated for several days. Behind the Masked Brotherhood were not only the great nobles of the Kingdom of Borea, but also the faint shadow of Wizards.

Wizards nowadays were like rats hiding in the gutters, and nobles didn’t need to consider the thoughts of rats. But Victor had to weigh the evil god behind those rats.

Back then, the Wizards’ assassination of the little Baron felt like it was paving the way for Victor. If he hadn’t taken on the little Baron’s identity as a lord, he would not have had his soul bound to the Alchemy Tower. Victor had always believed he was caught up in a struggle between extraordinary beings. In a sense, he wasn’t simply a transmigrator, nor was he the little Baron, but a creation of some god.

Although he hated being controlled, craved freedom, and even wanted to turn the tables, he first had to figure out his own situation and position.

What if the Wizards behind the Masked Brotherhood were minions or allies arranged for him by that extraordinary being? What if those Wizards had a way to restrain the master of the Alchemy Tower?

So, Victor went to sound out the King, but received no hints.

This morning, the conversation between Father Miller and the Pontiff had cleared Victor’s confusion.

No matter how powerful the evil gods were, they had been swept into a corner by the Lord of Radiance. And the Lord of Radiance protected humanity, and even more so, the noble bloodlines. Victor possessed a top-tier noble bloodline, and the influential figures he associated with were all great nobles. The evil gods had no power to influence them, nor did they have the power to influence Victor.

Victor wasn’t sure how much Miller knew about his situation, but he thought it was one of two possibilities.

First, the God-favored Miller knew but didn’t say, or couldn’t say. After all, this concerned a struggle at the level of gods.

Second, Miller was completely unaware.

In either case, Victor could not seek confirmation. He pretended that nothing had happened, but now, he was bolder and more fearless. Naturally, he no longer needed to show any mercy to the Masked Brotherhood.

Victor gathered his thoughts and said slowly, “Seeking your opinions is one thing. I was mainly informing you.”

“The family’s secret affairs require continuity. If something happens to me and I’m unable to handle these matters personally, you must be able to take over… In truth, this role is usually taken by the lord’s wife.” Victor was silent for a long moment, then stood up and said, “I plan to tell Nicole about The Golden Company’s affairs, but this does not include the family’s Elite Guards. You two must not mention this in front of her!”

“Ah…” Narsen was about to ask something, but Lilia quickly pulled him back. She said with a charming smile, “My dear, I fully support Sister Nicole taking on this role!”

“Lilia, you’re really getting smarter and smarter,” Victor said with a helpless smile, shaking his head as he turned towards the wooden door.

“I’ll go see Nicole directly tonight. I won’t be returning to Silver Moon Manor.”

Chapter 398: Who Sews Your Clothes

The road from Laketon to Golden Oak Manor was approximately seventy kilometers long, and it took Victor nearly three hours to reach Golden Oak Manor, even riding a Swiftbird.

The manor’s steward gave Victor a warm reception and informed him that Nicole had not returned; she was staying at Rose Castle for the night.

Victor first ate his fill at Golden Oak Manor, then led twenty Swiftbird light cavalrymen toward Nicole’s Rose Castle.

Rose Castle stood by the shores of Rose Lake. It was a standard baronial castle, composed of a curtain wall, a keep, a castle courtyard, a gatehouse, and a moat.

As the center of power for the barony, Rose Castle was surrounded by logistical facilities such as supply warehouses, freight yards, cavalry stables, barracks, blacksmith shops, and armories, as well as some housing for craftsmen and the families of soldiers.

As farmers developed the land around Rose Lake, more and more houses were built, streets and shops appeared, and a settlement of over nine thousand people gradually formed. Then, the Church dispatched a head priest and built a small chapel, elevating the settlement into a small town—Rose Town.

Pioneer Fiefs generally developed in this manner, but since Rose Town was personally planned by Victor, the layout of its houses, streets, shops, squares, church, and even its greenbelts and sewers was similar in style to Laketon—clean, orderly, and designed with future growth in mind.

In fact, the villages, workshops, stream reservoirs, pastures, and farmlands of Baroness Fynikos’s fief, as well as its six-hundred-man mercenary army and fifty Swiftbird light cavalry, were all single-handedly managed by Victor. He had once promised Nicole that he would give her a rich fief.

Today, that promise was fulfilled.

By the time Victor and his personal guard arrived in Rose Town, the sky had grown completely dark.

The Captain of the night watch heard the cries of the Swiftbirds and immediately came forward to greet them, personally escorting Viscount Randell to the edge of Rose Castle’s drawbridge. He waved a torch a few times toward the other side, and a moment later, the heavy drawbridge was lowered with a series of creaks and groans.

As Victor crossed the drawbridge, Nicole’s Head Steward, Joffrey, and several attendants greeted him with the ceremony befitting the master of the castle, bowing with their hands at their sides. “My lord, welcome back.”

“Where’s Nicole? Has she gone to bed yet?” Victor unfastened his cloak, handed it to a castle attendant, and strode into the small antechamber of the castle.

Joffrey followed by Victor’s side, speaking as they walked. “My Lady is resting in the fireplace room on the fourth floor. I will send someone to inform her at once.”

“No need, I’ll go find her myself. Arrange accommodations for my personal guard, and have someone see to the Swiftbird mounts,” Victor commanded.

“As you wish, my lord.” Steward Joffrey placed a hand on his chest and took his leave.

Four castle attendants, holding candelabras aloft, led Victor and two of his personal guards into the spacious Knight’s Hall.

The Knight’s Hall was connected to the antechamber and was the largest room in the castle, mainly used for entertaining guests and receiving vassals. A long table and chairs were set in the center of the hall. A massive fireplace was built into one wall, which could heat the entire hall during the Season of Water.

A huge bone club was nailed to the wall directly above the fireplace.

It was Nicole’s war trophy.

There had originally been a preserved head of the Old Ogre as well. Her subordinates had hung the monster’s head and its weapon in the most conspicuous place on the wall, as a symbol of their master’s glory.

Ogres were humanoid monsters, their features cruelly similar to humans, but far more terrifying and savage. Victor felt that hanging such a hideous decoration in the Knight’s Hall would always make people uncomfortable. He had insisted on burning the Old Ogre’s head to ashes. However, Nicole was very fond of the specimen, as it was a testament to her and Victor’s love.

In the end, the ogre’s head was put away in Rose Castle’s storeroom.

Victor glanced at the bone club on the wall, secretly regretting that he hadn’t burned its owner back then.

Climbing the spiral wooden staircase of the tower, Victor reached the fourth floor of the castle. At the entrance to the corridor, a valiant female apprentice knight and two swordswomen saw the unexpected visitor ascend, illuminated by the candlelight. They sheathed their longswords and curtsied in salute. “My lord, good evening.”

This female apprentice knight had a neat bob of short hair. She was curvaceous, with straight, long, and powerful legs. Her features were strong, as if sculpted, and her high-bridged nose and large, thick-browed eyes gave her less of a gentle femininity and more of a heroic and resolute air.

Her name was Laveta, and she was originally one of Rose Manor’s secret knights. When Nicole became a vassal lord of the York family, Sylvia had assigned three retainer knights to her, and Laveta was one of them.

Laveta was of humble birth and had been promoted to apprentice knight by purifying her Bloodline. But as a secret knight trained by Rose Manor, her personal strength and combat will were enough to crush ten of Alice. However, at twenty-nine years old, she was already past her prime, and her combat prowess would decline with age. It was for this reason that Sylvia had allowed her and her two companions to leave the ranks of the secret knights and follow a baron.

The other two retainer knights had started families. One of their husbands, Jomosen, had been granted a lordship by Nicole and served as the fief’s Garrison Commander, responsible for guarding the Southern Fortress. Only Laveta was still single.

Hmm, Laveta is good-looking, has a great figure, and a strong Physique. Most importantly, her background is simple. She’s perfect for Narsen… Well, she’s a little old, and her Bloodline is a bit weak, but I have Restoration Potions. I can definitely help her resonate with eleven Elemental Nodes, which will enhance her strength and slow her aging, Victor thought, sizing up the female apprentice knight from head to toe. He smiled and nodded. “Laveta, is Lady Nicole asleep?”

Laveta was a little bewildered by Victor’s scrutiny, but she knew her place and wouldn’t misunderstand it as the master being interested in her. She answered honestly, “I don’t know.”

“I’ll go see her myself.” Victor nodded and instructed, “Reno, Shak, find a room for yourselves and get some rest. Laveta, have the washroom on the fourth floor prepare some hot water. I wish to bathe in a little while.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Laveta gestured, and the two swordswomen took the candelabras from the castle attendants. One led Victor to Nicole’s bedchamber, while the other took Reno and Shak to choose a room to rest in.

Just as Victor reached the door, he heard Nicole’s voice from inside. “Darling, the door is unlocked. Come on in.”

Pushing open the oak door, the lovely sight of Nicole’s back met Victor’s eyes. Her long hair was draped over her shoulders as she knelt on a round stool in a nightgown, her slender feet bare. Leaning against a long wooden table, she was sewing a piece of clothing. A dozen Greensage candles in crystal lampshades cast a soft glow, and through her loose, thin gauze gown, the light outlined the charming and heart-warming curves of her body.

Victor closed the door behind him, took off his boots, and stepped onto the soft woolen carpet, standing quietly behind her for a moment.

As if sensing his presence, Nicole turned and gave Victor a sweet smile before busying herself again with her needlework.

“Are these all my clothes?” Victor walked to the wooden rack, picking up a cloak and coat to examine them closely. The materials were exceptionally fine, and the craftsmanship was exquisite. The seams were practically invisible, a sign of a unique and intricate sewing technique.

“Darling, I never knew you had such tailoring skills,” Victor praised.

“Wait until I finish sewing the sleeve of this shirt. You can try it on and let me see if it fits,” Nicole said as she threaded her needle.

Victor hung the cloak and coat back up, found a nearby chair, and sat down to admire Nicole’s skillful, fluid movements. “I went to Golden Oak Manor first, but the steward said you were at Rose Castle, so I rushed over to find you… Darling, why don’t you do these things at the manor? It’s much more comfortable than the castle.”

Life in a castle was far from the romantic ideal. For defensive purposes, castle windows were narrow and the spaces cramped. To prevent fires, only the Knight’s Hall and a few living quarters had fireplaces, and lighting fires in the corridors was strictly forbidden. Consequently, the castle’s ventilation and lighting were poor, leaving it dark and damp all year round. Mice skittered through the straw on the floor, and the limited number of castle attendants had no choice but to keep many cats and dogs to deal with the pesky little thieves. The musty air mixed with the stench of animal droppings was, to put it mildly, an acquired taste.

Rose Castle had been designed by Nicole’s brother, Lord Anthony. It had nearly two hundred rooms, enough to house more than six hundred people, but only fifty-seven soldiers and servants resided there permanently. This small number was barely enough to maintain the castle’s basic repairs and fire prevention needs, let alone keep the environment clean and comfortable.

“Victor, you rarely speak of your family. Do you have a castle back home?” Nicole asked in a soft voice.

Victor searched the little Baron’s memories and shook his head. “There is a castle. But my father is a fief baron invested by the Royal Family, so that castle is royal property. It’s nearly a hundred years old and has many grim and terrifying stories. They say people would disappear inside for no reason. I once saw a skeleton with my own eyes. The poor fellow was repairing a castle window when he accidentally fell and broke his neck. By the time they found him, fifteen years had passed.”

“We lived on our farmstead most of the time, but every Season of Wind, my father would take the family to stay in the castle for a few days. He had to meet with the farmers, deal with some trivial matters, or host the kingdom’s tax collector. In any case, I was always terrified and never dared to sleep alone. Believe me, it wasn’t a pleasant memory.” Victor shrugged, feigning a shiver.

“Poor little Victor.” Nicole glanced at him sympathetically, then clipped the fine spider silk thread on her copper needle with her nail, deftly tying it into a knot. “My father held a lordship from the York family, but he didn’t have a castle of his own. My mother was originally a seamstress in the house. She was favored by my drunken father by chance and gave birth to me. As you know, I am an illegitimate daughter…”

“And now, you are a noble lord, a powerful Knight, the pride of your parents!”

“Don’t interrupt,” Nicole chided. After a pause, she continued, “I grew up listening to tales of knights and castles, dreaming that one day I could have a castle of my own, either as its master or its lady. Of course, I mostly fantasized about being the lady of the castle. I would manage all its affairs: whether the tiles on the watchtower roof needed replacing, if the rainwater cisterns needed repairs, and I’d urge the servants to tie little bells on the fruit trees in the courtyard to scare away the birds that steal the fruit. Hmm, and I would record the tribute paid by the farmers in the tax book. When night fell, I’d have the cook prepare dinner to eat with my husband and children. Then I’d have the maids pour hot water into a large wooden tub, sprinkle in fragrant spices and flowers, and help my husband bathe. We would probably need a very, very large wooden tub, with the edges reinforced with metal to make it sturdier so it wouldn’t break easily.”

Victor nodded with a smile. “Heating water for a bath in a castle is an incredible luxury, a privilege one could say is unique to the castle’s master. My father would invite friends and guests to bathe with him. That would indeed require a very large, very sturdy tub.”

“But this privilege would seem particularly ridiculous to the great nobles. They have many castles symbolizing wealth and power, yet they prefer to live in comfortable and luxurious villas, just like us now.”

Nicole shot Victor a look and said softly, “I awakened my knight’s bloodline at fourteen and was selected for Rose Manor, where I was accepted as a disciple by Tutor Trisley and received a knight’s education. My companions all marveled at the beauty and elegance of Rose Manor and were dismissive of the family castles. I had to go along with everyone’s opinions, but I always held onto my fantasy of castles.”

“Do you know why?”

“Because they had castles, and I didn’t.” Nicole took advantage of the pause in conversation to finish the left sleeve of the spider silk shirt and began to sew the other one.

Victor was silent for a moment before saying with a smile, “Darling, you now have a barony, a castle, a fief, loyal and heroic retainer knights and vassals, and hundreds of well-armed, well-trained mercenaries. In just over a decade, you have achieved the dream of several generations. Your story is sung by bards everywhere, inspiring countless young nobles who travel thousands of kilometers to the Centaur Hills, all to realize their dreams.”

A smile touched Nicole’s lips as she said softly, “I also have you.”

Victor put on a stern face. “Darling, I must remind you that I have you. For the sake of my pride, please don’t get it backward.”

“Alright, my lover, you have me.” Nicole let out a soft laugh and shook her head. “Darling, you seem to be a born great noble. When you were pioneering the fief, you lived in shanties as if they were palaces. Later, when the first castle was built in the Randall Fief, I didn’t see you get particularly excited. It’s as if castles are nothing to you.”

“The castle in Laketon made me happy for a full two days. Once the novelty wore off, I had to worry about money,” Victor said, spreading his hands. “Pioneer Lords are always short on cash.”

Nicole pursed her lips in a smile. “I’ve never had to worry about money.”

“Darling, I came here today to tell you that your easy days are over.” Victor said menacingly, “From now on, you will have to worry about our purse.”

Nicole set down the shirt she was holding and asked with great interest, “Tell me more.”

“Er… why don’t you finish sewing my sleeve for me,” Victor said, propping his chin on his hands. “We can start by talking about the mercenary army.”

Nicole nodded, resumed sewing the sleeve, and said, “When I returned to Rose Manor this time, I taught the Gray Wolf and Gryphon Combat Techniques to the Fanged Legion. My Lady Katerina praised both techniques highly, and she also asked me to give you a verbal message.”

“What did she say?”

“She thinks a five-hundred-man mercenary army is the most appropriate size and wishes to discuss this matter with you in person.”

Victor thought for a moment, then nodded. “There are reasons of family politics behind this, but I trust Katerina’s military judgment. However, now is not the time for us to state our position…” He paused, then changed the subject. “Does Laveta have a marriage partner?”

“No.” Nicole looked at Victor warily and raised an eyebrow. “What? You’ve taken a fancy to her?”

Victor coughed dryly and explained, “It’s for Narsen… Duke York wants a marriage alliance with him, and what he values is the House of Randell’s influence over the Grand Legion Strategy. You know, because of the matter with Anna, I can’t easily refuse Duke York and Katerina. I’m worried that other vassal lords will make similar requests to offset the pressure from a marriage between Duke York and the House of Randell. If that happens, Narsen is in for a lot of fun.”

Nicole nodded. “I understand what you mean. Tutor Trisley is Lady Sylvia’s protection knight, and you are Lady Sylvia’s close companion. In effect, our House of Randell is part of Rose Manor’s core faction. Laveta was one of Rose Manor’s secret knights. It would be entirely in line with our position for Lord Narsen to take her as another wife.” With that, she broke into a smile. “I’ll find a chance to ask Laveta for her opinion.”

“I hope she won’t look down on Narsen.” Victor smiled, then asked, “Do you remember my Instructor, Baritt?”

“Of course I do. He disappeared,” Nicole said calmly. “I won’t ask about things you don’t mention.”

“I was just about to tell you about this.” Victor chose his words carefully. “Under my orders, Baritt has been secretly forming a large mercenary company. They will be exploring the development path for a Grand Legion in real combat. Only when I have detailed data can I discuss the various issues of the mercenary army with Katerina.”

“Besides Baritt’s large mercenary company, I also have a dozen or so smaller ones, specializing in smuggling goods.”

“Smuggling goods?” Nicole shot Victor a puzzled look.

“It’s like this…”

Victor explained the origin, progress, and vision of The Golden Company in detail. As he spoke, Nicole stopped her needlework, her mouth slightly agape, her face a mask of disbelief.

Victor finished in one breath and asked expectantly, “Darling, what do you think of The Golden Company plan?”

It was a long moment before Nicole murmured, “To sell coffee at a high price, you decided to risk smuggling goods? And because the smuggling caravans were too small, you designed public carriages? Then, still not satisfied, you plan to swallow up Sophia’s Merchant association? And next, you want to unite powerful lords from various kingdoms to operate The Golden Company together? Are you saying the Twin-Headed Lizard Merchant Guild in the Centaur Hills is also part of your plan?”

“That’s right.” Victor nodded, rather pleased with himself. “So, tell me what you think.”

Nicole’s eyes sparkled. “So, Lady Sylvia doesn’t know your plan, Young Lady Chapman doesn’t know your plan, Sophia doesn’t know your plan, and only I know?”

Victor was suddenly speechless. The Golden Company plan was far more world-shaking than the water project, yet this was what Nicole was focused on.

“Lilia knows, too.” Victor scratched his head and said helplessly, “Sylvia wants Sophia to stay in the Centaur Hills, but I don’t want her knights interfering in the Randall Fief’s affairs. This plan is meant to separate Sophia from her people, make her people follow our orders, and have them focus on running The Golden Company. When Sophia realizes she’s been schemed against, she’s bound to take her anger out on Lilia and Narsen. Lilia is under a lot of pressure, and it’s no longer suitable for her to manage The Golden Company. I hope you can take over. Of course, she’s still the Steward of the House of Randell. When I’m not here, she will assist you with various matters.”

“Like a lord’s wife?”

Victor smiled. “You were always my lord’s wife.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Nicole narrowed her eyes, a half-smile playing on her lips.

Victor was prepared for this question. He said with perfect justification, “In the beginning, the smuggling caravan was just a small thing. I never expected my money-making plan to grow so enormous. Lilia and Narsen can’t handle it anymore. Now, only my lady can share this responsibility with me.”

“Is that so? Well, I’ll have to think about it.” Nicole gave a sly smile, lowered her head, and focused on her needlework.

After a while, Victor asked cautiously, “Darling, are you angry?”

Nicole shook her head. She picked up the finished shirt, stood up, and said gently, “Try on the clothes I’ve sewn for you.”

Victor put on the shirt, coat, trousers, and cloak Nicole had made. Looking at himself and Nicole in the mirror, his heart felt warm. “It fits perfectly. I love it.”

Nicole wrapped her arms around Victor from behind, pressing her cheek against his. “I am a vassal lord of the York family, so I cannot accompany you to the King’s coronation ceremony, but the ceremonial robes I’ve sewn with my own hands will hold you close.”

A tremor went through Victor’s heart. He turned and pulled Nicole into his arms, saying with deep emotion, “Darling, you’re the first person to ever sew clothes for me…”

“Nonsense. Did your other clothes appear out of thin air?” Nicole teased with a lovely laugh, resting in her lover’s embrace.

“That’s different…”

Both before and after his transmigration, Victor’s mother had died young. No one had ever selflessly sewn clothes for him. Only at this moment did he realize that the unassuming Nicole had always been the most important person to him.

“I heard a story once. A farmer went to the fields with his two sons every day, while his wife stayed home to prepare food for them. When the farmer and his sons came home, all they did was eat and sleep. Day after day, year after year. Finally, one day, they came home to find hay on the dining table. The husband and sons were shocked and asked the woman if she had lost her mind. But the wife said, ‘You never told me you don’t eat hay!’”

Victor sighed. “We often most easily overlook the ones who care about us most.”

“So, do you want to listen to me now?” Nicole asked softly, gazing into Victor’s eyes.

“Yes, I really do!”

“Darling, don’t let Sophia come back.” Nicole shook her head and hugged Victor tighter. “She will take you away from me.”

Victor was taken aback for a moment, then gave a bitter smile. “Nicole, you don’t have faith in me?”

“Do you have faith in yourself? Hmph, you were captivated by Judy and Gillian in an instant, and Sophia is more beautiful than both of them.” Nicole huffed, then caressed her lover’s face and sighed. “This is also what makes you so captivating to high-ranking female knights. One always wants what one doesn’t have, and always wants to regain what one has lost. Every step we take is precious, relating to our future Gold realm, and that includes love.”

“Sophia is already standing at the gates of the Elemental Sea, but her career is about to collapse. The only thing she can grab onto is you, the House of Randell. She will make herself fall in love with you. Possessing you is the same as possessing the House of Randell. She will do everything in her power to drive me away. Lady Sylvia knows this, and I know it too. She will definitely do it.” Nicole clung to Victor, her voice trembling as she pleaded, “Darling, don’t let her come back to your side.”

“Alright! I won’t let her come back,” Victor said firmly.

“Really?” Nicole lifted her tear-filled eyes, then asked worriedly, “What about Lady Sylvia? If we do this, it will definitely interfere with her plans.”

Victor held Nicole and said in a low, heavy voice, “There will always be a way. I can always think of a way.”

Chapter 399: The Inevitable Arrival

The gloom in Nicole’s heart completely dissipated. She was like a rainbow after the rain, her every expression exceptionally bright. For the next few days, she was utterly devoted to Victor, allowing him to fully enjoy the gentle side of the female knight.

Of course, Victor and Nicole did not spend all their time on leisure and pleasure; they used this period to finalize a few matters.

First, Nicole’s retainer knight, Laveta, became betrothed to Narsen, and the news was sent to Rose Manor. Sylvia welcomed this development. Rose Manor specially recalled Laveta, and once Katerina had chosen a noblewoman for a political marriage, they would be married to Lord Narsen together.

Second, Lilia informed Nicole’s steward, Joffrey, of all of House of Randell’s official business. Joffrey, in turn, informed Lilia of the affairs of the barony and placed himself under her direction.

In truth, the two fiefs had long since established close ties, but this was the first time Lilia and Joffrey had directly conferred on family matters. This meant Nicole was now openly exercising her authority as the lady of House Randell, and Lilia’s actions would be subject to her supervision and protection.

The lord held the ultimate decision-making power over family affairs, and the steward was responsible only to the lord. The lord’s wife had the right to be informed and to supervise the steward. Unless the lord lost his free will or the steward betrayed the family, the lord’s wife had no authority to bypass her husband’s steward and issue orders that contradicted the lord’s decisions.

This was to ensure the lord’s authority and the continuity of the family’s politics.

Therefore, Nicole would not interfere with Lilia’s administrative power; instead, she would become her bulwark.

Logically, Lilia should have been close to Sophia, the matriarch of the family. However, Victor’s secret machinations against Sophia and her subordinates had put Lilia in an awkward and dangerous position.

The sheer scale and profound influence of the Golden Company were staggering. Lilia’s perspective had broadened considerably; she knew very well that with her and Narsen’s background, they could not possibly control this behemoth. Although she had received some training as a handmaiden at Rose Manor, she was not, after all, one of Sylvia’s core confidants. When Sylvia learned the truth, even if she said nothing, she would likely stand by and watch as Sophia retaliated against the Narsen siblings.

With the Golden Company about to move from the shadows into the light, the pressure on Lilia was immense.

Now, with Nicole stepping forward to shield her, a great weight was finally lifted from Lilia’s heart.

In fact, Lilia wasn’t the only one who was pleased. Nicole’s steward and retainer knights were also cheerful. As members of the York family, they obeyed the will of their family’s head and were prepared to welcome Sophia, but as an established power in the southern territories of the Centaur Hills, none of them would welcome an outsider who came to carve up their authority.

Banding together became the inevitable choice for the local powers, and the union of Lord Narsen and Laveta was a concrete manifestation of these two local forces jointly facing external pressures.

Victor and Nicole stole moments of leisure, spending their days being lovey-dovey. Harmony prevailed among the family’s upper echelons. The attendants and stewards spoke in louder voices than usual, and everyone was discussing the marriage of Lord Narsen and Laveta.

By mid-September, it was finally time for Victor to depart for Aerie Fortress to attend Prince Edward’s coronation ceremony.

After the coronation, the new king would invite envoys from various nations to observe the military tournament in Gambis, followed by the royal great hunt hosted by the Regent. As a viscount lord of Gambis, Victor had to personally lead eighty elite soldiers to participate in the royal activities, demonstrating the unity and strength of the lords of Gambis to the foreign envoys.

But how could a new, rising family with no deep foundation have elite soldiers?

Victor was determined not to show off. After some consideration, he selected twenty Swiftbird light cavalry from his vassals’ guards to keep up appearances, along with thirty armed cavalrymen and thirty infantrymen. As for the Alchemical humans, besides Reno and Shak, Victor only brought ten Alchemical auxiliary soldiers equipped with the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form.

Victor’s retinue included Narsen, Caligula, Alice, and Angelina.

Narsen possessed strength approaching that of a Silver Knight and was the only vassal commander Victor could present with any pride. Caligula had exceptional talent and a simple nature; Victor held high hopes for him and kept him by his side wherever he went to deepen their bond. Alice was in charge of the caravan’s servants and maids, personally tending to her husband’s daily needs. Angelina, with her noble status and as a disciple of Marchioness Wimbledon, was naturally qualified to attend the grand events at the Royal Capital.

Victor had originally intended to bring Beldina along to broaden her horizons, but Roland sent a message saying that King Edward had summoned Beldina. Consequently, the little chubby one promptly “fell ill” and had to remain at Silver Moon Manor to recuperate. The main culprit for her “illness” was Tournans. If the King had any objections, he could take it up with the First Sacred Warrior.

At the northern outpost of the Randell Fief, a caravan of more than two hundred people was parked by the roadside.

Victor, dressed in light green traveling clothes and a soft-brimmed hat adorned with an eagle feather, stood outside his carriage with the three ladies who had come to see him off. His gaze swept past Elina and Lilia, finally resting on Nicole’s lovely face. He said thoughtfully, “After this coronation, Grand Duke Williams and Princess Royal Roland will formally submit the proposals for the Fishman War and the port construction to the Senate. What the Senate will actually be discussing is the distribution of benefits from the southern expansion strategy. The lords will certainly argue, and no one can say how long the wrangling will last. I estimate I won’t be able to return until the Season of Earth next year.”

“I’ll leave this year’s Season of Wind inspection to you.”

Nicole reached out to straighten Victor’s collar, her voice soft. “I’ll take care of the fief. You must take care of yourself.”

“Mm,” Victor said, then turned to Lilia with instructions. “There are three matters I need you to pay special attention to. First is the construction of the minting workshop. Second is the resettlement of refugees during the Season of Water. Third is using soft silver ore to build the inner walls of Laketon.”

“I understand. I will not disappoint you, my lord,” Lilia said with a nod.

“Elina, I’m entrusting you with the matter of the school for general education that House Randell is establishing jointly with the Church.”

“Yes, my lord,” Elina replied with an elegant curtsy.

“Alright, it’s time for me to go.” Victor kissed each of the three beauties on the cheek, then turned and boarded the carriage, waving goodbye to them through the window.

Under the reluctant gazes of Nicole and the others, Victor’s caravan drove in a grand procession into the personal domain of Duke York.

According to Victor’s travel plans, the caravan would follow the river north, first to Goldwater City to rendezvous with Sophia, and then accompany Sylvia’s carriage to Blinor City.

It was early autumn. The Silvermoon River gurgled, the wheat fields on both banks had turned yellow, and the distant hills were still vast swathes of dark green, interspersed with the bright red of fruit. The different blocks of color rendered the landscape of the Centaur Hills into a colorful oil painting.

The scenery was magnificent, and the accompanying cavalrymen were full of spirit and high spirits. But Victor, sitting in his carriage, felt a lingering unease in his heart.

Nicole was worried that Sophia would replace her and strongly opposed Sophia’s return to the Randell Fief. Nicole’s anxiety perfectly reflected the true feelings of the upper echelons of House Randell. Victor could not, in either sentiment or reason, ignore this. In his heart, he also did not want to accept the knights of the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild.

Although Victor had drafted a plan to divide Sophia and her subordinates, then slowly influence the Sabertooth Tiger knights and persuade them to switch their allegiance, Sophia was no fool to be easily manipulated. The Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild was her own core faction. His plan to control Sophia in order to command her forces was a desperate move. A single misstep and Sophia could turn the tables and seize control, costing him his influence in House Randell.

If Sophia became pregnant, all of this would fall into place naturally.

Sophia’s difficult situation was merely a surface phenomenon; in reality, her political position was as solid as a rock.

No power could afford to ignore a Raging Wave Knight, especially one who had the barbarians standing behind her.

The interests Sophia represented were too vast, already exceeding the scope of her abilities. This was the main reason she was being obstructed. The Pontiff had settled the barbarians in the Centaur Hills to create a buffer period for the major powers and prevent conflicts from escalating. The various factions’ indifference to the Kingdom of Borea’s suppression of Sophia was merely a tactic to win her over.

Otherwise, what kind of offer could they make to recruit her? A marquessate? Or a duchy? Was a great lord who controlled diplomacy with the barbarians beneficial or harmful to the kingdom?

Loyalty was the most important quality in a noble, and a liege lord could only ensure a vassal’s loyalty through a disparity in strength.

Sophia had once betrayed Queen Catherine. The Auguste family had no choice but to maintain the Royal Family’s posturing. If Sophia were to voluntarily renounce her title as Marchioness Wimbledon and give up the Stag Merchants’ Guild, which brought in a fortune every day, Aerie Fortress would immediately extend an olive branch to her.

By the same token, compared to the highly sought-after Sophia, House Randell’s overt political power was too weak to impress the knights of the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild. Victor’s attempt was like a snake swallowing an elephant; it was more likely he would choke to death.

The Integration of House Randell and the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild was causing great distress to the weaker party. Victor reassessed his plan and found his chances of success to be miniscule. If he could not completely sideline Sophia, her knights would actively participate in the affairs of the Randell Fief, gradually replacing Victor’s own confidants. When that happened, it was questionable whether the secrets of Hill Camp could even be kept.

Therefore, the best option at present was still to keep Sophia and her knights out.

Of course, it would not be easy for Victor to adjust his established strategy.

The sincerity of the York family made it difficult for Sophia to refuse: a Spirit Knight liege who valued her, a husband with Moon Elf bloodline, a rich Pioneer Fief, and a new family with simple relationships. All of this paved the way for her to change her Creed of protection and strive for the Gold realm.

However, Sophia was strong-willed and fiercely independent, with a natural aversion to traditional noble houses. Getting her to give up her own enterprise would be no easy feat. If Victor revealed his vision for the Golden Company, ceded some of the leadership to her, and helped the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild transition from the open to the shadows, Sophia and her knights would surely not linger in Victor’s home base to stir up trouble.

The real problem lay with Sylvia—or more accurately, how to persuade Sylvia to change her original intention.

The series of schemes laid out by Sylvia and Victor all revolved around Sophia. This included the rock bricks, port, fuel, and iron ore urgently needed in the Centaur Hills, Victor’s secret plan for a city wall of soft silver ore, and even the political environment both inside and outside the Centaur Hills—all were intricately linked to Sophia.

Now, if Victor suddenly said he didn’t want Sophia anymore, how would Sylvia react? How would the Auguste family react?

Despite the immense difficulties, once Victor made up his mind, he would not easily change it. It was just that he currently didn’t have the slightest clue how to proceed. He decided to turn his gaze outside the carriage, where he saw Narsen, clad head-to-toe in Adamantine armor, walking alongside the carriage.

“Narsen, why aren’t you riding?” Victor asked curiously through the window.

Narsen’s voice was muffled as he replied, “My lord, I am tempering my body and my spirit.”

Victor was both amused and exasperated. “Are you planning to walk all the way to Blinor City in that armor?”

“Yes,” Narsen said with a firm nod. “Lord Tournans told me that riding a horse trains horsemanship, but walking trains the body and mind. I can adjust my breathing and my pace as I wish. I can run, I can jump, I can go left, or I can go right.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “I have plenty of strength anyway. Even a warhorse can’t run faster than me. I can walk any distance, no matter how far.”

“Walk the whole way, and see the sights along the way? That’s a good idea!” Victor’s eyes lit up, and he laughed freely. “I’ll get out and walk too. I’ll treat it as a tour.”

The lord dismounting to walk caused a small stir in the caravan. Fortunately, Victor did not have a rigid steward by his side. The naturally lively Alice changed into a set of light hunting attire and joined him. Angelina, with her youthful, romantic heart, saw how happy Victor and Alice looked walking and laughing together and could no longer bear to be cooped up in the carriage. She too clamored to get out and walk. The York family knights could not dissuade Angelina and had no choice but to lead their horses and follow behind Victor and the others.

Before long, a group of nobles was walking alongside Victor. They chatted and laughed as they admired the scenery of the fields, making for a pleasant journey.

The distance from the Randell Fief to Goldwater City was a full four hundred eighty kilometers. Victor paid great attention to infrastructure, and the York family lords, following his plans, had built two wide, flat roads along the banks of the Silvermoon River, wide enough for four carriages to travel abreast. Shade trees were planted on both sides and in the median to protect the roadbed. Outposts and supply points were established along the way, and a dedicated team was responsible for maintaining the road surface to ensure it remained clear.

The safe and convenient transport conditions greatly increased the travel efficiency for travelers and caravans. On this main artery connecting north and south, travelers did not need to search for paths or water, be wary of wild beasts, or forage and hunt along the way, nor did they have to find places to camp and cook.

It took Victor only nine days to reach Goldwater City.

The scouts of House Randell had already reported their master’s itinerary to Rose Manor. A luxurious noble caravan was parked outside Goldwater City, its cavalry guards flying the banner of Marchioness Wimbledon. The old steward of Rose Manor spotted Victor’s party from afar and came forward to greet them, accompanied by Sophia and Natalya.

Sophia, her purple hair draped over her shoulders, wore a blue, waist-cinched court dress that outlined her bewitching figure. She walked with grace, exuding an indescribable and stunning beauty. Victor’s attention, however, was drawn to the barbarian behind her.

She was a tall, strong female barbarian, her head and face covered in mysterious tattoos. She carried a double-bladed greataxe of Adamantine on her back, her temperament wild, her gaze cold. Upon seeing her, Narsen’s pupils contracted instantly, and he instinctively gripped the handle of the axe at his waist. But the female barbarian completely ignored the wary Narsen. She strode over, circled the curious Caligula a few times, and muttered a string of words in her native tongue.

Caligula was so frightened by the barbarian that he trembled, tears welling in his eyes. Just then, Sophia said a few words in the barbarian language, and the female barbarian finally walked away, disappointed.

“Raegzo, a Gold rank barbarian Berserker. She once single-handedly hunted an adult Snow Monster and holds the title of Urus,” Sophia explained before Victor could even ask.

Victor tore his gaze away from the female barbarian and turned to ask, “My dear, are you planning to take her to the Royal Capital?”

“Yes,” Sophia said with a slight smile and a tilt of her head. “This time, I intend to show off the barbarians’ muscle to the envoys of the various nations!”

“That’s just like you…” Victor gave her a thumbs-up, then pressed, “What did Raegzo just say?”

Sophia’s expression stiffened. She shot a cold glance at Caligula, lifted her chin slightly, and asked, “Who is that person?”

“Uh… he’s Caligula, a family retainer I recently took in.” Sophia’s reaction mystified Victor, but seeing Natalya struggling to stifle her laughter, he pieced together a rough guess. He asked, dumbfounded, “Did Raegzo mistake Caligula for your husband?”

Sophia glared at Victor resentfully and retorted, “She’s always mocking your wife for being ugly and short. Shouldn’t you be upholding your wife’s honor?”

“A barbarian’s sense of aesthetics…” Victor glanced at the female barbarian, who was a full head taller than Caligula, and shook his head. “I’d rather deal with a grumpy gardener than argue with a barbarian about beauty.”

“Steward Morrison, where is Lady Sylvia?” Victor changed the subject, asking the old steward.

“My lord, Lady Sylvia departed five days ago.” The old steward hesitated for a moment before saying with utmost respect, “Before she left, my lady ordered me to tell you truthfully that she is very displeased. She will settle the score with you when you arrive in the Royal Capital.”

“Ah… why is she displeased?” Victor asked, a look of complete confusion on his face.

The old steward stood with his hands respectfully at his sides and said in a stiff, formal tone, “My lady said that you are to figure it out for yourself, and then go and explain it to her.”

Chapter 400: The Matriarch’s Demeanor

Victor was momentarily speechless. Sophia’s beautiful violet eyes turned to Anna, who stood beside them. “Are you Audel and Fredrick’s daughter?” she asked.

Captivated by Sophia’s radiance, Anna stepped forward, a little flustered, and curtsied. “Aunt Sophia, oh, no, Tutor Sophia, good day. I am your student, Angelina Branstat York. You can call me Anna.”

Sophia smiled faintly and nodded. “Since Lady Sylvia and Duke York’s convoy have already left, there’s no need for us to enter the city. Anna, return to your carriage. The convoy will depart immediately.”

Anna gave a graceful curtsy, lifting the hem of her skirt, then obediently boarded her carriage.

Sophia raised a hand, summoning a middle-aged knight in a full suit of plate armor. She then instructed Narsen, “Lord Narsen, Sir Nikolai will be responsible for escorting the convoy from here on. Please hand over your duties to him.”

“As you wish, My Lady.” Narsen nodded and walked aside with the middle-aged knight to transfer command of the escort.

“Alice, hand over the miscellaneous duties of the convoy to my head maid, Dannie. Victor will ride in my carriage, and you will take his.”

“Yes.” Alice curtsied, her demeanor respectful as she withdrew. Faced with the powerful presence of her master’s lady, all her usual liveliness and charm vanished. She didn’t even dare to glance at Victor.

Sophia took Victor’s arm and said in a sweet, coquettish voice, “My dear, are you satisfied with my arrangements?”

“This is your purview.”

Sophia had naturally taken control of the convoy, but Victor was in no mood to concern himself with such trivialities. He spoke politely to the old steward, “Steward Morrison, we will be on our way. You may return.”

“I wish you a safe journey, my lord.” Steward Morrison and the attendants from Rose Manor bowed.

Victor nodded in acknowledgment and turned to walk toward Sophia’s carriage. Caligula followed his master in lockstep. Before boarding, Victor gently instructed him, “Aka, go find Narsen.”

“Oh.” The big oaf took off running toward Narsen like a frightened rabbit. It was the first time he had seen a barbarian taller than himself, and Raegzo’s earlier actions had clearly terrified him.

Natalya, dressed in a yellow gown, watched Caligula bolt in a panic and let out a chuckle. “The body of a Giant, the heart of a mouse. My dear lord, wherever did you find such a peculiar family retainer?”

Victor watched Caligula run off, shaking his head in disappointment. He then helped Sophia board the carriage of the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence.

Sophia’s copper carriage was drawn by a Giant Rhinoceros Beast. The carriage itself resembled a small wooden cabin, its interior lavishly decorated and equipped with a dining room, a bedroom, and a washroom. Natalya was the last to board. She kicked off her high heels, first helping Sophia change into a loose, comfortable nightgown, then removing Victor’s traveling clothes, revealing the soft armor he wore underneath.

“What exquisite inner armor.” Natalya unfastened the soft armor and, gently embracing Victor, exclaimed in admiration.

Victor couldn’t help but show off. “This is a specially made Vine-hide armor from the House of Randell. It’s stitched with takin hide on the inside and out, with a middle layer bonded with the leather of a Swamp Giant Python and fine vine armor. Not only is it breathable and sweat-absorbent, light and comfortable, but it can also withstand a volley of crossbow bolts at close range.”

“I had three sets of inner armor like this made for you, too.”

“Really?” Natalya’s eyes lit up, but then she asked worriedly, “Does your leatherworker know my measurements? What if it doesn’t fit?”

“I know your figure,” Victor laughed heartily, pointing to his own nose. “I cut your inner armor myself.”

“My dear, you’re so good to me.” Natalya was overjoyed and offered him a sweet kiss.

“That’s enough! Victor, you start flirting with my Guardian Knight the moment you get on the carriage. Are you pretending that I, the matriarch of the family, don’t exist?” Sophia extended a fair hand toward her husband and feigned anger. “Where’s mine?”

“Of course, you have one.” Victor glanced at Sophia and added, “But that’s it! No more!”

“Hmph, you get in here.” Sophia pouted her red lips, lifted the curtain, and entered the carriage’s bedroom first.

Natalya smiled faintly. She wasn’t the least bit worried about Sophia’s jealousy. They had joined the Wimbledon Merchant Association at the same time and had weathered life-and-death situations together, supporting each other and forging a deep bond. Sophia and Natalya had sworn an oath to never be parted, to share all their secrets—including the same intimate partner.

Back then, Sophia had insisted on sending young Victor to the Centaur Hills. Though Natalya had been ten-thousand-times against it in her heart, she had not gone against her will. Sophia knew that her sister had few ambitions and longed for a stable, happy family. For this, Sophia felt a measure of guilt. Now that Natalya and Victor were reunited, Sophia was genuinely relieved and not truly jealous of her.

Victor changed into a loose, comfortable robe of fine linen, then lifted the curtain and entered the living area at the back of the carriage. He found a spot by the window on the snow-bear-skin couch and settled into a half-reclining position.

Sophia curled her long, jade-like legs and leaned close to Victor’s ear. Her breath was as fragrant as an orchid as she asked, “How did you make Sylvia angry?”

“You don’t know?” Victor replied lazily, his hands pillowed behind his head.

Victor had already informed Rose Manor of Narsen and Laveta’s engagement, and Sylvia had expressed her welcome. Therefore, the reason for her anger must have been Lilia and Joffrey personally exchanging their two fiefs—or rather, she was displeased that Victor had allowed Nicole to exercise the authority of the Viscount’s wife.

Nicole was indeed Sylvia’s confidante; otherwise, she would not have been granted a barony by the York family at such a young age and placed by Victor’s side. Most of Nicole’s capable subordinates came from Rose Manor. They might be reluctant to see Sophia disrupt the existing balance of interests between the two families, but their reporting of sensitive incidents to Rose Manor was purely routine, and they would not hide a single detail.

This was loyalty—the loyalty of the Rose Attendants to the Queen of Roses.

Victor even believed that Nicole had reported the matter herself, or at least that she was aware of it.

Although the upper echelon of Baroness Fynikos’s fief was reluctant to accept a powerful outsider, they could not defy their master’s will. Therefore, Victor had to bear the pressure alone and, in his capacity as the male head of Rose Manor, find a way to change Sylvia’s mind.

In a way, the political situation in the Randell Fief and Baroness Fynikos’s fief was entirely Sylvia’s creation.

Victor’s subordinates relied on Nicole in political and military matters, making them part of Rose Manor’s core faction. Nicole’s vassals were heavily dependent on Victor economically. And Victor, as Sylvia’s only intimate partner, was naturally close to the core forces of Rose Manor.

The two sides were as tightly united as a single fiefdom.

Sylvia had partitioned Victor’s fief and ordered Nicole to guard the southern fortress, leaving the Auguste family with no excuse to meddle in the southern territories of the Centaur Hills.

Furthermore, Victor and Nicole were already lovers. Facing the threat of the Ant-men together, they wouldn’t need a long period of adjustment. With no worries from the south, Sylvia could concentrate on building up the central and northern defense lines.

On the other hand, by sending out her core forces, Sylvia had invisibly expanded Rose Manor’s influence within the York family.

Her arrangement could be described as killing three birds with one stone, but she had failed to account for the problem of integrating Sophia.

Sophia leading her vassal knights back to the Randell Fief was very unfair to Nicole. Yet from Sylvia’s perspective, her decision was beyond reproach.

In the face of family interests, hadn’t the two Great Knights, Terlanden and Ulena, obediently contributed a scion with an excellent bloodline? Why was it unacceptable when it was Nicole’s turn to make a sacrifice?

Nicole was Sylvia’s person. Her concession was Sylvia’s concession—a sacrifice made by a Spirit Knight for the family’s sake.

However, Victor had the right to protect Nicole. His status as an independent lord, his ancient and noble Moon Elf bloodline, and his romantic entanglement with Sophia left the vassal lords of the York family with nothing to say.

On the journey here, he had already figured out how to deal with Sylvia.

If Sylvia was angry about this, Victor had decided to push back. At worst, he would hand over the Randell Fief’s raw sugar business to the Two-headed Lizard Merchant Guild. He would first turn Sylvia’s anger into delight, then slowly find a way to rearrange things. In any case, having the Two-headed Lizard Merchant Guild specialize in raw sugar was a planned step in Victor’s development of The Golden Company.

Victor hadn’t expected Sylvia to just abandon him and storm off.

It was as if she were saying: Nicole is your woman, but am I not? You suddenly want to go back on our agreement, so you’d better think hard about how you’re going to appease me!

I wanted to talk business, but you threw a tantrum at me… Victor felt dejected and lost. Sylvia’s reaction was like that of an angry wife, not a rational leader. This gladdened Victor’s heart, yet at the same time, filled him with deep self-reproach.

Sophia lay diagonally beside Victor, one arm propping up her fragrant cheek, quietly gazing at her husband’s face.

Victor’s eyebrows were long, slender, and straight. His features were delicate and handsome, and his pair of dark, profound eyes gave him an air of mysterious elegance and handsome frailty, always managing to stir a woman’s maternal instinct to protect him. His slightly pointed ears and the faint breeze that always swirled around him highlighted the traits of his rare and noble bloodline. All of this held an unparalleled attraction for female knights, especially high-ranking ones.

Victor seemed to be showing signs of changing his mind, but this was all within Sylvia’s expectations.

Before she left, she had told Sophia: High-ranked Knights are rational and dull, but Victor acts on his emotions, and that is precisely his most endearing quality. The process of a high-ranking female knight pursuing a high-ranking knight partner is utterly devoid of romance, whereas chasing a Moon Elf noble of an ancient bloodline is filled with both joy and trouble.

Therefore, Sylvia had gone on ahead, deliberately creating an opportunity for Sophia to be alone with Victor, to let her try to change his mind. Regardless of the outcome, it would be a very rare experience.

Sophia knew that Sylvia’s words were true. Only a very few exceptionally talented Gold Knights remained single. Most Gold Knights went through the motions of love, marriage, and family, having partners and children, only considering the push to the Elemental Sea after the age of sixty.

Sophia had progressed too quickly, missing many important sights in life. Victor was probably the only partner who could help her complete her life’s experiences.

But right now, Victor’s gaze was distant, unfocused. Sophia knew he was thinking of Sylvia, and she couldn’t help but wonder: Has Victor ever missed me?

Her pride would not allow her to ask such a question. She let her own emotions flow, savoring the fluttering in her heart. After a moment, she gave Victor a push and asked with a half-smile, “My dear, I hear you’ve impounded a shipment of goods—my goods.”

Victor’s heart skipped a beat, but he feigned indifference. “So what? Didn’t your knights occupy Raven Town?”

“How can you call it an occupation?” Sophia pouted her tempting red lips and said sweetly, “Raven Town lacks a stable water source. I provided the money and manpower, and even asked the barbarians to help you excavate a 300-mu stream reservoir. Didn’t Butz inform you in advance? And didn’t you agree to it yourself?”

The territory under Raven Town’s jurisdiction was nearly a thousand square kilometers, and the water supply had always been the main factor limiting its development.

To the west of the town lay the Larkspur Mountains, which stretched for thousands of kilometers. Every Season of Water, mountain torrents would flow along natural channels into the low-lying area to the north, forming a large lake, but that was Viscount Negus’s territory. Victor had personally surveyed the terrain around Raven Town and designed a plan to build a large stream reservoir, but due to a lack of manpower, construction couldn’t begin right away.

At that time, Raven Town had a population of less than three thousand, and the mountain streams and a few small green brick cisterns were sufficient for the town’s daily needs. But now, the Temple Army under the Radiant Knights had stationed two thousand Horned Wolf Sacred Warriors in Raven Town. Horned Wolves required fresh meat, and to reduce transportation costs, the Church and Sophia had to raise thousands of livestock locally. Victor had also dispatched eight hundred able-bodied men as hired labor to Raven Town to expand housing and repair the castle and roads.

The demand for water for people and livestock in Raven Town immediately became strained. Butz and Old Ham had to arrange for a large number of people to fetch water from the lake more than ten kilometers away.

When Sophia’s knights took charge of Raven Town, they naturally had to solve the town’s water problem. They consulted with the leader of the Sacred Warriors and donated an offering of ten thousand Gold Sol to the Temple Army, hoping to commission the Sacred Warriors to excavate the large stream reservoir Victor had designed.

The Sacred Warriors had nothing better to do. Digging a stream reservoir would count as daily training, and they would receive a handsome offering. Why not?

The two sides hit it off immediately, but the Temple Army made another request: for Sophia to ask the barbarians to help, so as to stop them from wandering around the Larkspur Mountains. In reality, the Radiant Knights wanted to use the joint labor to test the barbarians’ attitude and build a closer relationship with them.

And Elder Harald had actually agreed!

Seeing the barbarians and the Temple Army sweating side by side, Viscount Negus, the representative of the Dodor Royal Family, was on pins and needles. Under the pretext of helping his neighbor, he dispatched a group of laborers to assist the Sacred Warriors. Only he knew how many Dodor spies fluent in the barbarian tongue were among them.

In just two months, four artificial waterways and a 300-mu stream reservoir were completed north of Raven Town.

Victor was naturally happy to reap the benefits, but it would be another matter entirely if the Sabertooth Tiger knights had other ideas.

The Wimbledon Merchant Association had suffered a major setback on its trade routes in the Dodor Kingdom, a fine piece of work by a coalition of Dodor’s powerful lords. The neighbors to the north of Raven Town were all nobles from the Royal Capital, newly ennobled by the King of Dodor. These six lords, both large and small, had close ties to the Dodor Royal Family, and their influence on His Majesty King Friedrich was considerable.

Most importantly, they desperately needed trade.

If Sophia could win them over, it might very well be a breakthrough to end the stalemate.

In addition, Raven Town’s territory was large enough to support the investiture of two lords. Being on the border, it was an important trade port between Victor and the Dodor Kingdom and held unparalleled commercial potential. Sophia, who had built her fortune on trade, could not have missed this. Her enthusiasm for Raven Town was beyond imagination; she had actually stayed there for two whole months without returning to the Randell Fief.

If Sophia’s plan to save herself failed completely and she was forced to return to the Randall family, the knights of the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild would be very keen to secure a fen of land in Raven Town and continue their old trade.

Victor would never grant Raven Town as a fief to anyone! He wasn’t even planning to grant any new vassal lords in the Randell Fief.

If he were to grant any land, it would be the land on the south bank of the Goldwater River!

However, Victor could not question Sophia about the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild overstepping their authority in Raven Town. Doing so would lay his true position bare on the table, leaving no room for negotiation for either side. It would also make him appear narrow-minded, shallow, and selfish.

Victor fell silent for a moment, then frowned and asked, “The barbarians were willing to build a stream reservoir with humans. Is Elder Harald trying to learn human technology?”

Sophia ground her teeth in frustration. In the past, if they were alone in a room after being apart for half a month, Victor would have pounced on her long ago. He wouldn’t be paying attention to such mood-killing matters now.

Besides Sylvia, how could I possibly lose to another woman?

Sophia gently brushed back a lock of hair and, pursing her lips into a smile, said, “My dear, you used to love pestering me to hear my stories as a traveling merchant. So, would you like to know what I saw and heard in Arreat?”

“Of course I want to hear it! It would be even better if you could teach me to speak the barbarian tongue…”

Victor excitedly tried to sit up straight but was pushed back down onto the snow-bear-skin couch by Sophia. Their limbs became entangled in a warm, fragrant embrace.

“My dear, have you forgotten what we do before I tell you a story?” Sophia’s violet eyes brimmed with moisture as her gorgeous red lips pressed directly against Victor’s.

The Giant Rhinoceros Beast let out a low growl, pulling the heavy copper carriage forward as the bells on the outside tinkled in a crisp, clear chime.

The convoy of the House of Randell finally set off toward Gambis’s Royal Capital—Blinor City.

Chapter 401: Halotes Fortress

Twenty-seven days later, Victor and Sophia crossed the western part of the kingdom and entered the Royal Family’s direct domain—the Great Plains of Central Brinol.

It was evening, and the caravan, with its men weary and horses exhausted, had sped along all day. Having missed the outposts along the way, the cavalry from the Aerie Fortress’s Ministry of Internal Affairs guided the joint caravan of Viscount Randell and Marchioness Wimbledon to a wide-open forest clearing to make camp for the night.

Over a hundred servants dismounted from the carriages. With a clear division of labor, some leveled the ground and set up tents, while others fetched water, gathered firewood, and slaughtered cattle and sheep. Meanwhile, the infantry established a perimeter of sentries around the camp, and the cavalry busied themselves with tending to their mounts.

The Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild possessed a wealth of experience in camping in the wild. Knight Nikolai and the head maid, Loir, worked together in perfect sync, organizing every task in an orderly fashion.

As the last rays of the setting sun sank into the earth, dozens of bonfires blazed to life within the camp, and the air filled with the aroma of roasting meat and simmering stew.

Victor, accompanied by Sophia and Natalya, left the red copper carriage and strolled over to one of the bonfires. Knight Nikolai was roasting a plump short-tailed deer, skillfully sprinkling it with his secret blend of spices. Golden grease dripped into the fire, hissing and sizzling, and a rich, tempting aroma filled Victor’s nostrils.

“Throughout the entire Marquess’s estate, only Uncle Nikolai’s roasting skills are truly unforgettable,” he said with a smile.

The middle-aged knight turned the spit and said steadily, “My lord’s praise is my honor.”

Victor nodded, glanced around the camp, and asked, “Where’s Narsen?”

“Same as always. Lord Narsen has taken his men into the woods to practice their combat techniques. They won’t be back for dinner for another hour,” Nikolai said with sincere admiration. “His Excellency Narsen is the most diligent and hardworking Ferocious warrior I have ever seen. It’s no wonder his strength can rival that of a Silver-rank Great Knight.”

Narsen, clad in heavy armor, walked an average of sixty kilometers a day and used every spare moment to cultivate the Gryphon Combat Technique. The physical stamina and willpower he displayed had already surpassed that of a Bronze-rank Knight, earning Nikolai’s awe.

Victor smiled faintly. Nikolai admired Narsen’s strength and status, not his diligence. Caligula, who followed behind Narsen, also walked under a heavy load and practiced his combat techniques daily, yet he rarely received any praise. His large frame and good temper, on the contrary, earned him much ridicule and teasing.

“And Anna and Alice?” Sophia asked, sitting gracefully by the bonfire. The crimson firelight made her beautiful face even more delicate and enchanting.

“They’re with Loir… I’ll go get them to join us for dinner,” Natalya said.

“There’s no need to bother them.” Victor took Natalya’s arm, gesturing for her to sit beside him.

These past few days, Victor had almost completely lost contact with his own retinue. He was surrounded by people from the Marquess’s estate, with the exception of Reno and Shak.

They stood ramrod straight not far behind Victor, like silent javelins.

Under normal circumstances, a lord and the lady of the fief would not need to issue orders personally. Sophia, exercising her authority as Viscountess Randell, had arranged everything for Victor.

This was a perfect reflection of the Marchioness’s assertiveness and stubbornness; she disliked being arranged for and preferred to be the one arranging for others.

Of course, a major reason for his isolation from his men was that Victor rarely left the carriage.

As a Son of the Wind, he hated enclosed, narrow spaces. But with enchanting beauties by his side, spending every day in a carriage seemed much less of a hardship.

Victor and Sophia had engaged in intimate and profound conversations, sharing their respective experiences. Victor told Sophia about the various problems he encountered in pioneering his fief, while Sophia spoke of her ordeals in the Kingdom of Borea and what she had seen and heard in Arreat.

According to Sophia, the barbarians had no written language and did not record the mundane affairs of their tribes. They couldn’t even clearly recount events that had happened just a few centuries ago. Their true origins were known only through legend.

They called themselves the Children of Arreat, formed from the hardest rock on the Holy Mountain. To protect the Holy Mountain was the barbarians’ sacred mission.

The “Holy Mountain” the barbarians spoke of referred specifically to Mount Halotes within the Mount Arreat range.

No one knew the true extent of the Mount Arreat range. Halotes was clearly not the highest peak on Mount Arreat, but it held a position of supreme importance in the hearts of the barbarians.

The nearly one hundred thousand barbarians of Mount Arreat were divided into several hundred tribes, each with a fixed nomadic hunting route. Along their journeys, they would eliminate some of the more powerful monsters to maintain the populations of reindeer and other herbivores. They also established simple camps along their routes to help the women and children of their tribes survive the harsh Season of Water.

A tribe’s nomadic journey could span over ten thousand kilometers, but no matter how far they roamed, they had to return to Mount Halotes every four years for a pilgrimage.

Sophia was probably the only human to have ever entered the barbarians’ sacred land. She had personally seen the complex of buildings at the foot of Mount Halotes, built from piled stone. That was the barbarian capital—Halotes Fortress.

During the pilgrimage season, which occurred once every four years, barbarian tribes large and small would gather at Halotes Fortress to resolve all manner of issues.

Young barbarians would show off their prey to members of other tribes, or snatch the prey of others, before having a barbarian Elder ink them with the tattoos that signified adulthood.

An adult barbarian was eligible for marriage. He (or she) would first have to defeat their desired partner, then go on to vanquish three more competitors in a row to be able to “abduct” a barbarian from another tribe into their own. Only fists were permitted during this process; knocking an opponent unconscious was considered a victory.

Barbarians over the age of seventy no longer led their tribes. They would remain behind to guard Halotes Fortress, becoming barbarian Elders.

If anyone thought Halotes Fortress was guarded by a troop of old, weak, and crippled soldiers, they would be gravely mistaken.

The barbarians were fierce and bellicose, and they considered it an honor to offer powerful prey to the Holy Mountain. So-called “powerful prey” meant a Snow Monster of at least Gold rank. Therefore, any barbarian who managed to live to the age of seventy was a powerful Urus, and one who also possessed the wisdom needed for survival.

At present, Halotes Fortress had only two hundred thirteen Urus Elders and twenty-seven legendary hero Elders. The legendary barbarian Harald was the youngest of these legendary hero Elders, and also the weakest.

Perhaps he was also the most farsighted of the barbarian Elders.

Since ancient times, the barbarians of Arreat had coexisted with the Mountain Dwarves. The Mountain Dwarves, whose tempers were as stubborn as rock, were permanent residents of Mount Arreat and were natural stonemasons and blacksmiths. The Mountain Dwarves helped the barbarians forge weapons and build Halotes Fortress and their nomadic hunting camps. In return, the barbarian tribes helped the Mountain Dwarves eliminate powerful monsters, trading their prey and medicinal herbs for the dwarves’ weapons, mushroom wine, grain, and other daily necessities.

The mountain tribes originally had no need for interaction with humans. However, things began to change.

About eighty years ago, the Mountain Dwarves suddenly abandoned their homes on Mount Arreat and migrated as a people to the Endless Forest. This was a striking parallel to the great migrations of the Forest Centaurs and the Halflings.

From that time on, Halotes Fortress began to trade with the Teutonic Duchy through barbarians exiled from the mountains, which gradually evolved into the barbarians’ grand market held every four years.

At Halotes Fortress, Sophia saw the minerals the Mountain Dwarves had left for the barbarians. They were piled up like mountains, a complete and exhaustive collection, but the barbarians knew neither how to smelt ore nor how to forge weapons.

The barbarians needed outside help. The more farsighted barbarian Elders used an ancient prophecy to break with their insular traditions, dispatching Harald to lead a band of barbarians into the human world.

In the eyes of those in power, a prophecy that cannot be changed is meaningless. And isn’t a prophecy that can be changed just a tool for uniting the people and changing traditions?

Anyone who truly believed in the prophecy was a complete fool. Of course, the more such fools, the better.

Regardless of whether Elder Harald could recover the sacred object, the barbarian tribes had now established a stable and lasting connection with the human world. Through communication and learning from humans, the barbarians would adapt to a new way of life.

The Radiant Knights would not miss this golden opportunity. They intended to fill the void left by the Mountain Dwarves, form an alliance with the barbarians, and then extract the endless mineral resources from Mount Arreat.

As for the sudden migration of the Mountain Dwarves and Forest Centaurs into the Endless Forest, it was certainly a cause for vigilance, but that was all. What else could be done? Run to the Endless Forest and demand an explanation from the Elves?

Victor wasn’t going to trouble himself with such worries. Instead, he had noticed many interesting phenomena.

The barbarian tribes, with Mount Halotes as their center, traveled out in all directions on fixed hunting routes. It was more akin to a patrol. Every four years, they had to return to Halotes Fortress for their pilgrimage, which in turn limited the range of their “patrols.”

What were they guarding? And who had trapped these powerful warriors on Mount Halotes?

The suspicious thing was, the barbarians themselves had no idea why.

The barbarians’ situation was strikingly similar to that of some draconic beastmen, such as the Lizardmen and the Half-dragons. They possessed autonomous intelligence but were unable to escape the shackles of their Bloodline, forever guarding the nest of the Hydra Lizard. Another example would be alchemical creatures influenced by the Will Side… or to put it more simply, it was like a mother who, seeing her child in danger, has her maternal instinct override her survival instinct, willing to sacrifice her own life to protect her offspring.

The Will Side determines behavioral habits!

The barbarians’ sacred object was clearly a legacy of the Alchemical Empire. Victor suspected the barbarians were the descendants of some kind of alchemical creature, not simply a draconic species.

The Goat-Headed Monsters living in the Gloomy Forest closely resembled the Savi Warrior alchemical unit. The Ant-man also possessed the characteristics of an alchemical creature. But their water element attributes all surpassed those of true alchemical creatures.

This indicated that a damaged Law Crystal in an Alchemy Tower could have caused certain alchemical creatures to mutate, granting them the ability to reproduce.

Nevertheless, the barbarians had finally come down from the mountain. Their interactions with humans would spur them to break free from the shackles of tradition and form an entirely new social structure.

Why hadn’t the Mountain Dwarves helped the barbarians achieve this?

History still held many unsolved mysteries. Victor greatly wished to go see Halotes Fortress for himself, but it was far too distant in both time and space. It would be better to first learn the barbarian language and then try to find answers from Elder Harald.

Victor had more pressing matters to deal with at the moment. He stared into the bonfire for a moment, then suddenly asked, “My dear Marchioness, what are you all truly thinking?”

Knight Nikolai immediately stood up, preparing to give the two masters their privacy, but Sophia stopped him with a raised hand.

“Nikolai, Viscount Randell is asking what the Sabertooth Tiger Knights are thinking. Tell him the truth.”

“Yes.” Nikolai said with a wry smile, “Lord Randal, many scions of noble families with low bloodlines have used the Wimbledon Merchant Association’s potions and network of contacts to awaken their Aura and then pledge themselves to a lord. But there are some knights who are completely loyal to Lady Sophia—and that would be us, the knights of the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild.”

“To be honest, we’ve grown accustomed to the caravan life, but you are also aware of the Wimbledon Merchant Association’s situation. If Lady Sophia were to lose her title as Marchioness of Wimbledon, our fiefs as Sabertooth Tiger Knights would also be revoked by the Royal Family. Our only choice is to follow Lady Sophia and pledge our allegiance to the House of Randell.” He paused for a moment before continuing, “We know that the members of the House of Randell do not welcome outsiders. Therefore, we plan to persist in running the merchant association and see if we can find another way out. If that proves impossible, we hope that you, my lord, out of consideration for our past friendship, will grant us two new fiefs for our lordships near Raven Town.”

Victor scoffed, “So I’m just a spare wheel to you?”

“Ah?” Nikolai looked at Victor, completely baffled.

“You’re not willing to pledge your wholehearted allegiance to me, yet you want me to prepare two fiefs for you?”

“My price is myself and Natalya, along with an enormous fortune,” Sophia said coolly. Her eyes shifted, and she added with a charming smile, “My dear, the initiative is in your hands, not mine. You can choose to help me through this crisis and then have Natalya, or you can choose to accept the knights of the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild and then have both me and Natalya.”

Victor thought about it carefully and realized that was indeed the case.

If the House of Randell would neither help her nor take her in, Sophia’s only choice would be to fake her death to escape her predicament, pledge herself to another power, find a new husband, and establish her own family.

“What makes you think I can help you overcome this crisis?” Victor asked curiously.

Sophia and Natalya simply smiled without a word.

Nikolai spoke up, “When we were in Raven Town, we made contact with Viscount Negus of the Dodor Kingdom. He said that if we could increase the quota of raw sugar we sell to him by twentyfold, they would be willing to help us open a new trade route in Dodor’s Centaur Hills. He said this was the will of the Dodor Royal Family; the House of Friedrich cannot openly offend the Boreans and the Sassans, so they can only help us covertly.”

Victor frowned and muttered to himself, “Raw sugar… why raw sugar?”

Chapter 402: Patting Himself on the Back

“My lord, the sausages from Raven Town are delicious. They cost three times as much as ordinary meat sausages. Not only do the Sacred Warriors love them, but the barbarians are also particularly fond of them,” Knight Nikolai said with a smile.

“It’s because a little raw sugar is added to them.”

“Yes.” Knight Nikolai nodded. “Compared to expensive and rare honey, raw sugar is a relatively cheap seasoning, and it can also replenish stamina. The barbarians trek long distances to hunt in the ice and snow. When food is scarce, they still need to supplement their nutrition, which is why the Boreans’ Juniper wine and our Purple Cane wine are popular with them. But liquor isn’t easy to carry. If we transport raw sugar to Arreat, we can definitely sell it for a good price.”

Natalya chimed in, “The problem is, anyone can brew ale, but raw sugar is a specialty product of the House of Randell.”

“The Dodor Royal Family expects the price of raw sugar to double. They want to lock in the supply price and trade share for raw sugar before the price goes up, and also increase their reserves.”

“Makes sense,” Victor said with a slight smile. “Let’s eat first. I can’t wait to taste Uncle Nikolai’s roasted deer.”

Nikolai was taken aback for a moment, then quickly took out his dagger, carved the roasted short-tailed deer, and served it on plates, handing them to Sophia, Victor, and Natalya respectively.

The roasted venison was golden-brown, crispy on the outside and tender on the inside. Victor was full of praise as he ate. Sophia listlessly tasted a few slices of deer loin before returning to the carriage to rest with a cold expression, clearly displeased that her husband had changed the subject. Only Natalya happily joined Victor for dinner.

Sophia had long been aware of the value of raw sugar and had always wanted to obtain the monopoly rights for it. Now, the people of Dodor had finally made an offer using raw sugar as a condition, yet Victor remained noncommittal. This left her feeling dejected and resentful.

Hmph, all his sweet talk along the way was fake!

In truth, Victor had thought of another possibility.

Raw sugar was more nutritious and cheaper to produce than Snow Sugar. Its only disadvantage was that its shelf life was slightly shorter.

Yet for such a fine and inexpensive product, the Dodorians were being secretive and trying to suppress the price.

Fortunately, Victor had seized the Bloodboil Potion from the Masked Brotherhood; otherwise, he would have almost been duped by the Dodorians.

The greatest advantage of the Bloodboil Potion was that a soldier could take three doses in a single day, though the effects would diminish with each dose. The reason for the diminishing effects was not a problem with the potion itself, but that the soldier’s stamina couldn’t keep up. If the Bloodboil Potion were taken with raw sugar, its blood-boiling effect, duration, and the number of doses one could take would all see an astonishing improvement.

Victor had long suspected that the Boreans had used the Bloodboil Potion to buy off the great lords of the Dodor Kingdom. He was now certain that the Dodor Royal Family had already obtained the potion’s formula.

The House of Friedrich was using Dodor’s powerful great lords to pressure Sophia on one hand, while secretly having Viscount Negus make overtures to her on the other. Or rather, he was using Sophia to extort raw sugar from the Centaur Hills.

The inside story here was well worth pondering.

Under the feudal system, the royal family and the great lords were interdependent, but they were by no means a monolithic bloc. In reality, the king has limited influence over the great lords; at the very least, he has no right to interfere in their internal affairs. Monopolizing a certain resource was a common tactic for the royal family to maintain its advantage over the lords. Conversely, the lords had to find ways to break the royal family’s monopoly.

This internal conflict between the King and the lords gave Victor an opportunity to exploit. A nascent idea was beginning to form in his mind.

After a leisurely yet quick venison dinner, Victor pulled Natalya back into the carriage.

Behind the spider silk curtain in the carriage, Sophia’s graceful figure was outlined. Victor called out, “My dear lady, I need a bath.”

“Wash yourself! Natalya, I forbid you from helping him!” Sophia snapped from behind the curtain.

Victor grinned. “Then you can both help me.”

“In your dreams!”

“And here I was, about to offer you some advice. I guess it’s not needed now.” Victor shook his head with regret.

A slender, snow-white hand pulled back the curtain, and Sophia deftly emerged from the carriage’s living area. She looked Victor up and down, her eyes flashing as she bit her red lip. “My dear, are you really going to help us?”

“I like the ever-charming Sophia best.” Victor laughed heartily, embracing the two beauties and squeezing into the carriage’s washroom.

Having washed off the smell of roasted meat, Victor reclined on a soft bearskin couch with a scantily clad Sophia and Natalya.

Sophia raised a hand to spread her damp purple hair, her beautiful eyes fixed on Victor. “My dear husband, pray tell, what is your idea?”

Victor summoned a gentle breeze to dry their hair and asked curiously, “The Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild has five Knights and eleven apprentice knights. How much is their annual remuneration?”

“Natalya can draw funds directly from my coffers; she doesn’t need an annual tribute. The knights of the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild each receive 11,000 Gold Sols, and the apprentice knights each receive 3,000 Gold Sols,” Sophia said calmly.

Victor was dumbfounded, and the gentle breeze in the carriage instantly stopped. Natalya gave him a push and pouted, “Darling, keep the breeze coming.”

The titled knights of the York family received an annual subsidy of 4,000 Gold Sols, and the annual tribute for the Gambis Royal Guard Knights did not exceed 8,000 Gold Sols. But they were all knights who had advanced naturally, whereas the knights of the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild had relied on potions to advance. The difference in their Bloodlines and strength was vast, and their social standing was entirely different.

Titled knights had small fiefs or manors, so their liege lords provided them with economic subsidies so they could maintain the dignified and extravagant lifestyle of a Knight-Noble. The other four knights of the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild belonged to two families. The annual remuneration for one couple exceeded 20,000 Gold Sols, which was higher than the annual income of most baronies.

Victor was astounded by Sophia’s generosity. He shook his head and said, “Narsen’s annual salary of 2,000 Gold Sols is less than that of one of your apprentice knights… No wonder Nikolai and the others don’t want to give up the Wimbledon Merchant Association. I’m afraid only Natalya genuinely wants to stay by my side.”

“My dear, I like you, whether you’re the Victor of the past or the Viscount Randell of today. But I will only stay by Sophia’s side. Her will is my will,” Natalya said seriously.

“Loyalty is a precious quality,” Victor nodded in admiration, and Natalya lowered her head with a faint smile.

One is young and elegant, the other mature and stunningly beautiful. It looks so awkward no matter how you look at it… Sylvia became younger, so it was to make it easier to act spoiled, was it!

A jumble of thoughts ran through Sophia’s mind. She let the feeling of jealousy fester, savoring it for a moment before pouting. “Your question is truly interesting. My knights are not as worthless as you imagine. As their liege lord, I have the same obligation to respect, protect, and ensure the livelihood of my knights. If the Wimbledon Merchant Association has an annual profit of 200,000 Gold Sols, paying the Sabertooth Tiger Knights a corresponding remuneration based on the total profit is how I show them my appreciation, and they repay me with loyalty.”

“Do you have any other questions?” Sophia shot Victor a dissatisfied look and sneered, “You’re not going to tell me to abandon my followers, are you?”

“Of course not!” Victor flatly denied.

“Hmph! I can see you look down on my knights. Let me tell you, where I am, they are!”

Sophia’s charming display of light-hearted anger made Victor’s heart flutter. He vaguely realized that Sophia’s behavior was different from the Marchioness in his memory; she had become gentler, more vivid, and possessed more feminine charm.

Incompetent sovereigns often surrender their power to unrestrained desires, but there were few incompetent great lords in this world because High-ranked Knights were adept at controlling their emotions. Their very existence significantly raised the difficulty of the game of power. Since the opponent doesn’t make mistakes, one absolutely cannot afford to make any either!

Victor reined in the amorous thoughts in his heart and said with calm confidence, “I’m just confirming whether your will can represent the true thoughts of the Sabertooth Tiger Knights.”

Sophia pondered for a moment, then said, bewildered, “Shouldn’t a vassal obey the will of their liege lord? Have I not fulfilled my duties as a liege lord?”

Having a brilliant tutor is really important… Victor sighed internally, shaking his head with a smile. “That’s the principle, but the reality might be the exact opposite… It’s possible that your subordinates are influencing your will without you even realizing it. If you substitute your personal thoughts for the thoughts of your subordinates, the consequences will be very, very dire!”

“The mysteries within, you can ponder them slowly in the future. Right now, I just want to know if you are all still as united as before. This is almost your only advantage!”

A moving smile spread across Sophia’s exquisitely beautiful face, like a snow lotus blossoming—cold, pure, and noble.

“Of course, I firmly believe that!”

“I certainly hope so…”

Victor gave her a meaningful look, then changed the subject. “I’ve already decided to hand over the House of Randell’s raw sugar to the Twin-Headed Lizard Merchant Guild to manage.”

Sophia asked calmly, “Your reason? You should know that Sylvia hopes for me to join the York family. Having me go and beg her won’t lead to a favorable outcome. How are you planning to help me?”

“I want to make Sylvia happy. Is that reason enough?” Victor raised an eyebrow. Seeing Sophia’s composed expression, he couldn’t help but shake his head and sigh. “You’re not jealous? It seems you really don’t care about me.”

“Why should I be jealous?” Sophia’s soft, pliant body wrapped around Victor. She blew a puff of air playfully by his ear and said, biting her lip, “My dear Victor, this way we can be together every day. Besides having you, what else could I possibly have? Do you know what I would do? I would be a proper Viscountess Randell, drive away all your lovers, and bear you several heirs with noble bloodlines… My husband, you want this too, don’t you?”

“I am very satisfied, except for the third part…” Victor cleared his throat and said seriously, “Let’s continue our talk about raw sugar!”

“Viscount Negus wants to increase the trade share of raw sugar by twenty times. That’s almost my entire annual output. But do you know how much Purple Cane I have to harvest for that? Eight thousand mu! And do you know how much Purple Cane forest I have? Five hundred seventy thousand mu!”

Natalya covered her small, red mouth, her beautiful almond eyes wide. Sophia pressed against Victor and said softly, “My dear, isn’t this wonderful?”

“No! Not at all!” Victor shook his head. “If the House of Friedrich finds out the truth, they will have ample excuse to propose a new trade agreement with you… or to tear up the contract at any time!”

Sophia remained silent, and Victor understood. He continued, “Since raw sugar is so important, on what grounds can I monopolize all the benefits? In fact, Earl Teldrane and Duke York have 110,000 mu and 20,000 mu of Purple Cane forest respectively. They would only need to harvest 10,000 mu to make a huge profit, but they haven’t. Why? Because Sylvia won’t allow them to interfere with my raw sugar sales strategy.”

“Sylvia trusts me, and I must repay that trust! By giving the raw sugar to a shareholding merchant guild for joint management, I can win the support of the entire York family, from top to bottom. Only then can the House of Randell gain a firm foothold in the Centaur Hills.”

Natalya’s eyes shone with admiration. She asked with tender affection, “My dear, can you tell us what your raw sugar sales strategy is?”

“I haven’t thought of it yet.”

“Huh?”

“It’s definitely not just about making money!” Victor clenched his fist and laughed freely. “At our level, simply pursuing money seems exceptionally shallow. Raw sugar is like a crowbar. In my hands, it can change many things!”

“For example, it can help me break this stalemate,” Sophia’s eyes lit up as she finished his sentence.

Victor stared into her beautiful, amethyst-like eyes and asked with a half-smile, “Do you really believe in the sincerity of the King of Dodor?”

“Before the barbarians cross the river, no one would dare to sever Marchioness Wimbledon’s trade routes! The great lords of Dodor wouldn’t be so foolish. But the situation has already changed. The Dodor Kingdom has transformed from a land of war into a trade channel connecting the north and south. The Dodorians need vast amounts of supplies to rebuild their northern territories. If I were the King of Dodor, how could I allow the Borean caravans to dominate? Playing both sides and collecting transit taxes is the wise choice!”

“The question is, why would the Dodorians support you?”

“Because you’ve shown weakness, which makes you particularly easy to bully. You know full well that the King of Dodor is not sincere, yet you still insist on going to negotiate!”

Victor said lazily, “My dear, just tell me the truth.”

Sophia was silent for a moment, then shook her head and smiled. “Victor, you truly astonish me. I can’t hide anything from you… Alright, if I don’t take action, the Stag Merchants’ Guild will soon fall apart.”

Victor nodded. “Whether you can solve the problem is irrelevant. What’s important is that you are seen taking action to solve it. This action is for the Stag Merchants’ Guild to see.” He then asked, “What is the state of the Stag Merchants’ Guild now?”

Natalya glanced at Sophia and sighed, “Morale is scattered. Many of the caravan hands have defected to the Southwind Merchants’ Guild, and among them are many confidants of the stewards of the Stag Merchants’ Guild. It’s obvious what they are trying to do.”

“You’re leading a rabble. And all of this is of your own making. If you hadn’t separated your trusted knights from the Stag Merchants’ Guild to form the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild, you wouldn’t be in such an embarrassing situation!” Victor criticized sharply.

Sophia shook her head. “I don’t regret my decision back then. The Stag Merchants’ Guild was full of bad elements, impossible to weed out. The Sabertooth Tigers were originally meant to absorb the core members of the Stag Merchants’ Guild and replace it. Who could have expected things to change so quickly!”

Starting a new venture? Absorbing the core members? Her idea is actually the same as mine… Victor muttered to himself, then looked up and said, “Then you should understand that it was the Radiant Knights who instigated the Boreans to target you. The other powers are just going with the flow. Even if you pay a huge price to buy off the Dodorian lords, once the Radiant Knights form an alliance with Harotus, the Sasan Empire will also sever your trade to weaken your influence over the barbarians.”

“My dear, you have dragged down the merchant association.”

Victor caressed Sophia’s fine, smooth cheek and said sympathetically, “Gambis will have a new commercial nobility to replace you. Sylvia and I formed the Twin-Headed Lizard Merchant Guild precisely to deal with this kind of change.”

Sophia grasped Victor’s hand and said faintly, “My predicament seems to have no solution… but I’m not willing to just kneel and surrender… That would be to negate all my efforts.”

“This doesn’t sound like the Sophia I know.” Victor shook his head with a chuckle. “What’s your plan to break the stalemate?”

“To convince you, so you can convince Sylvia, so you can both come up with an idea to help me.”

Victor was stunned for a long while, then murmured, “It’s that simple?”

“Mhm.” Sophia pouted, saying resentfully, “Go ahead and laugh if you want. I’m a noblewoman of Sus with the purple-eyed bloodline. Who else can I rely on if not my own man?”

That was a powerful argument.

Victor exclaimed in admiration, “Simple and effective. Utterly brilliant!”

Sophia and Natalya shook with laughter. She tilted her head back and asked, “Are you praising yourself? Has my little man thought of a way?”

“Not yet.” Victor touched his nose and added, “I have a rough idea… The more difficult the situation, the less one can afford to back down… I need intelligence on Dodor’s powerful great lords, including their relationships with one another, as well as the current detailed state of the Stag Merchants’ Guild. Compile it all for me.”

“What are you planning to do?” Sophia stared at Victor with great interest, trying to read his face for a clue.

“Thinking about how to persuade Sylvia.” Victor freed himself from Sophia and Natalya’s entanglement, struggling to his feet. “You two make it impossible for me to concentrate. I’m going to get out of the carriage to think properly.” With that, he left the carriage, leading Reno and Shak into the quiet, dark woods.

Natalya lowered the carriage curtain, her expression complicated. “The thought of Victor helping us come up with a plan for Nicole’s sake makes my heart ache. He used to…” Seeing Sophia’s glare, she quickly smiled. “My dear Sophia, don’t you think about leaving me behind.”

“No, what I mean is… I feel it too. Sylvia was right, it’s very strange…” Sophia closed her eyes, immersing herself in the inexplicable emotion. A moment later, she opened her eyes and smiled. “My dear sister, don’t worry. The initiative is in our hands.”

“Because I am Marchioness Wimbledon, and I am also Viscountess Randell.”

In the woods, Victor used the dim moonlight to quickly write two letters in Chinese. One of them contained the formula for the Restoration Potion.

“Use an alchemical crow to deliver these two letters to Kane, the leader of the Elite Guards following Barol. Tell him to act according to the contents of the letters.”

“Yes.” Reno took the letters and turned to leave.

Victor stopped him and complained, “Aren’t you curious about my plan?”

“Oh.” Reno paused, then, imitating Narsen, leaned in and asked in a low voice, “My lord, what is your plan?”

“Framing, exposing them, and clearing someone’s name… never mind, never mind, you can go.”

Victor waved Reno away, feeling a distinct lack of enthusiasm. He clasped his hands behind his back and sighed.

“Smart people are truly lonely.”

Chapter 403: Taking Matters Into His Own Hands

Laurel Town was situated on the southeastern frontier of the Dodor Kingdom. It was surrounded by mountains and dense forests, with relatively little arable land. However, it was exceptionally rich in natural resources, producing high-quality flax, fragrant vine fruit, iron ore, and sapphires, as well as medicinal herbs, timber, and leather from the mountain forests.

The Hanisi family had amassed considerable wealth from the resources on their lands, and Baron Hanisi had developed Laurel Town into a small city capable of housing over thirty thousand people.

Every year during the Season of Wind, a large number of refugees would flood into the Hanisi territory, accepting the Baron’s employment for the rush harvest of fragrant vine fruit. When the cold Season of Water arrived, Laurel Town would be short on food, and the refugees, having earned their money, would return to the great lord Marquess Dwemick’s Stonetooth City to wait out the winter.

It was now late February in the Season of Wind, and the weather was gradually turning cold. The refugee shantytowns outside Laurel Town were already full. Those without a place to live either had to snatch someone else’s shanty or give up on the harvesting work here and quickly find a livelihood in another territory.

To hold onto your shanty was to hold onto your livelihood. The refugee gangs in the shantytowns formed alliances of various sizes based on their respective areas. When their companions were out working, those who stayed behind were responsible for guard duty.

“Ah… ah… spare me, for the Supreme Lord’s sake… spare me…”

A half-grown boy in a worn felt coat knelt in the mud of the shantytown, weeping bitterly. His arm was twisted behind his back by a pair of long, slender hands. The excruciating pain from his shoulder joint rendered him immobile.

His tormentor was a tall, lean man. Three gruesome scars on his face made him look as terrifying as a ghost. His eyes were cold and merciless, as if he might snap the boy’s shoulder at any moment.

For a refugee boy, being crippled was an unbearable injury. He begged loudly, but the man was unmoved. The people around them were merely watching the spectacle; all those who could have helped him were already lying on the ground.

“These idiots actually dared to try and take Ghostface’s territory.”

“Boss Ghostface, teach this kid a lesson!”

“Break his shoulder! Show no mercy!”

The onlookers were all refugees guarding their own shanties. Without exception, they used intimidation to display their own cruelty and strength, a warning to anyone else who might try to seize their homes.

“What’s your name?” the man asked coldly.

“Barrel… my name is Barrel.” The boy endured the pain, forcing a fawning smile towards the muddy ground.

“Good. From now on, you’re with me.” The man released his grip. He first silenced the crowd with a glare as sharp as a sword, then barked, “Now get lost, all of you!”

The boy stared in astonishment as his unconscious accomplices staggered up from the ground, covered in mud, and limped their way through the crowd of onlookers.

“Haha, you’re too green, kid!”

“Getting taken in by Boss Ghostface, what a lucky kid.”

The onlookers roared with laughter, but this time it held a note of friendliness.

The boy in the felt coat remembered how he had just desperately fought Ghostface with a wood-cutting knife. He was instantly overcome with shame and anger. He spat fiercely at his former companions, only to provoke even louder jeers from the crowd.

“Barrel, these six shanties are all ours. If anyone comes looking for trouble, you call me,” the man instructed the boy, before walking straight into the largest shanty.

The refugee shanties were simple in construction, focusing on rain protection and warmth, but their lighting was very poor. A few rays of sunlight shot through a ventilation hole in the mud wall, outlining a hazy human figure inside. Seeing the man close the wooden door, the figure chuckled softly. “Ghostface, well done this time. Experienced refugees don’t kill or cripple people lightly; that only brings trouble on themselves. It seems you’ve learned how to intimidate and recruit.”

The man was silent for a moment before saying in a raspy voice, “My name is Tao De.”

“Tao De? Heh heh… Ghostface, your nickname is much more impressive than your name. That’s very good. See, does anyone call me Fitch? I’d love a resounding nickname too, one that makes people piss their pants when they hear it, but everyone just calls me ‘hey,’ ‘you,’ ‘buddy,’ ‘scum,’ ‘Fat Rat’… I know you have strength and backing, but right now you’re a refugee, and in the future, you’ll be a gang enforcer… hmm, maybe a gang boss.” Fitch walked over to Tao De, slung an arm around his shoulders, and said affectionately, “Ghostface, I’m only saying this for your own good.”

“Ghostface” was none other than the apprentice knight, Tao De.

Over three months ago, on Viscount Randell’s orders, he and forty-two elite soldiers from the House of Randell had disguised themselves as refugees and rushed to Wildwillow City overnight. Under the cover of the local gangs, they met with their Guide, Fitch.

Fitch was in his twenties, of average height and with an ordinary face, the type that would disappear in a crowd. But he smiled at everyone he met and had a pleasant way of speaking, able to strike up a conversation with a stranger in just a few words. He had led Tao De on a roundabout journey, and they had entered the Dodor Kingdom after more than two months.

The Randall family’s soldiers had dispersed their forces and quickly vanished without a trace. In the end, Tao De was left with only three men: Ron, Matthew, and Jamie. Among them, Ron was the strongest, even more formidable than an average apprentice knight. Matthew and Jamie were also extraordinarily skilled, both crack-shot archers.

They followed Fitch into Laurel Town and successfully joined a refugee gang.

Through Fitch’s clever arrangements, the three, Ron, Matthew, and Jamie, went out with the refugees to gather fragrant vine fruit, while he and Tao De were responsible for guarding the shanties.

Ron had been picking fragrant vine fruit for a month, and Tao De had been guarding the shanties for a month. Today, his patience had finally run out.

“Fitch, ever since we arrived in Laurel Town, you’ve been exceptionally docile, staying in the shanty all day, never showing your face if you can help it.” Tao De knocked the arm off his shoulder and asked with a thin smile, “Why?”

“My dear Ghostface, we’re here to do something big. I have to be responsible for our lives… I’ll tell you when the time is right.” Fitch grinned cheekily, but his voice was extremely low.

“You talk a big game, but there isn’t a single true word in it… and it just so happens I have no intention of entrusting my life to a lower-class person!” Tao De suddenly grabbed Fitch by the throat, slammed him onto the table, and snatched the dagger that was lunging for his stomach. He pressed its tip to the soft spot behind Fitch’s ear and said mockingly, “You handle a dagger better than you run your mouth. It seems you’re an expert… I hear a stab in this spot is painless… is that right, Mr. Assassin?”

Tao De could have killed Fitch with his bare hands; his choice to use the dagger revealed his intent to intimidate. But Fitch firmly remembered Barol’s lesson: when someone has a knife to your throat, never doubt their resolve or recklessness!

He said decisively, “Hey! Lord Tao De, you win!”

Tao De released him and said, “You’re smart, kid. I like talking to smart people, but I don’t like people who think they’re too smart for their own good.”

“Lord Ghostface, ask whatever you want. I’ll tell you whatever I can. But if you kill me, I don’t think you’ll live for long either,” Fitch said with a grin, rubbing his neck.

Tao De slowly drove the dagger into the tabletop until the hilt was flush, saying coolly, “You lower-class person, you think too highly of yourself, and you’ve gravely underestimated me.”

Fitch watched the dagger pierce completely through the solid wood table, dumbfounded. “Lord Tao De, you’re truly amazing!”

Hmph! I’m an apprentice knight, a senior apprentice knight at that, one Master Randall built with tens of thousands of Gold Sols… Tao De gave a cold smile, only to hear Fitch add, “Well, some of our guys can do that too.”

Tao De’s expression instantly froze. His own strength was only marginally greater than Ron’s, and the House of Randell had at least dozens of Mystic Warriors like Ron.

This was also the source of Tao De’s anxiety.

Tao De believed that Viscount Randell, having spent precious potions to enhance his bloodline and strength, would not sacrifice him easily. At the same time, he knew that in the eyes of a great noble, a senior apprentice knight didn’t hold a very high status. Especially since Viscount Randell possessed the golden potion; if he wished, he could create many senior apprentice knights at any time.

Therefore, his future status depended on his performance. This mission was clearly very risky. If anything went wrong, Viscount Randell would certainly disavow any connection, and his sacrifice would be a matter of course.

Whether it was to win Viscount Randell’s favor or to save his own skin, Tao De had to get the relevant intelligence from Fitch’s mouth, rather than being manipulated by a lowly commoner.

Tao De suddenly asked, “Fitch, who do you serve?”

Fitch’s eyes flashed with an unnatural blankness. Seeing this, Tao De sneered, “It seems you’re a stray dog with no master. I can kill you at any time, can’t I?”

The liege-vassal relationship formed the cornerstone of the vassalage system. Nobles in the Royal Capital referred to themselves as the “King’s dogs” with pride. A lord calling an old vassal an “old dog” was a sign of praise for his loyalty and an affectionate term for an inseparable bond. A masterless stray dog, however, was a purely derogatory term. Having no master meant having no status, leaving one open to being bullied by anyone.

The way Fitch looked at Tao De finally changed. He asked cautiously, “Lord Tao De, you know?”

Tao De said proudly, “The Master assigned the mission to me personally. But my Master is not your Master! You don’t have that right yet.”

A look of profound respect appeared on Fitch’s face. He had followed Barol for so long without ever knowing which noble he was truly serving.

Tao De struck while the iron was hot, shaking his head. “The Master sent me here because I understand nobles, and I understand refugees even better. Your sweet talk and little tricks are useless on me!” He then softened his tone. “I can see you’ve been very tense since arriving in Laurel Town… Cooperate with me to complete the mission, and I’ll do my best to ensure your safety. I’ll even recommend you to the Master.”

“Lord Tao De, I don’t know much either…” Fitch scratched his messy hair vigorously, putting on a look of excitement mixed with terror. He had to survive his encounter with Tao De first.

“I want to see Shadow,” Tao De said, pulling over a stool and sitting down.

“I really don’t know where he is. We’re on a one-way communication channel right now…”

Tao De pondered for a moment, then looked up and asked, “My Master told me to follow Shadow’s arrangements. What is your mission?”

“Shadow told me to bring you all here, train you to blend in with the refugees, then find a way to infiltrate the gangs in Stonetooth City. After that, I could leave,” Fitch answered honestly.

“Who is Shadow?”

“My adoptive father, Barol. The name is just a title. He’s also a master of disguise. Even if he were standing right in front of us, I might not recognize him,” Fitch said, shaking his head.

Tao De rubbed his temples and asked in a low voice, “Tell me what you know. For example, why are you so afraid!”

“It’s a bit complicated…”

Fitch gathered his thoughts and spoke slowly, “Our opponents are the Masked Brotherhood… The Masked Brotherhood works for the Southwind Merchants’ Guild. They infiltrated the Thieves’ Guild in Stonetooth City to attack the freemen merchants of the Stag Merchants’ Guild. And the Stag Merchants’ Guild is our employer… at least, we nominally serve the Stag Guild.”

“In the beginning, we made some progress. The freemen merchants of the Stag Merchants’ Guild united with local ruffians to help us break into Stonetooth City, and the Masked Brotherhood’s influence there was in full retreat. But no one expected it to be a trap they had laid. Once all the Stag Merchants’ Guild’s informants were exposed, the Masked Brotherhood’s assassins killed them all.” Fitch said dejectedly, “We lost our inside contacts and helpers in Stonetooth City, becoming blind and deaf, so we had to fall back to Laurel Town. But the Masked Brotherhood wouldn’t let up. They followed us here and assassinated Pete, the hyena chief of Laurel Town… he was a secret agent we had painstakingly cultivated.”

Tao De sneered, “Is that all Barol is capable of? He couldn’t see the Masked Brotherhood’s trap? A waste of the Master’s trust in him!”

“You can’t really say that… We have too few people we can use. Although the big boss kept sending experts over, you know how they are… their brains don’t work so well… In a direct fight, the Masked Brotherhood was getting slaughtered by them… but they’re no good at street brawls. The Masked Brotherhood’s people saw through their disguises at a glance. Even common ruffians dared to sucker punch them from behind.” Fitch sighed. “Before the Masked Brotherhood purged the Stag Merchants’ Guild’s forces, they first set a trap for our men to kill a magistrate’s guard, then the magistrate himself led his troops to wipe out our stronghold in Stonetooth City… a lot of our guys died.”

“Of course, there’s good news too,” Fitch said self-deprecatingly. “The stewards of the Stag Merchants’ Guild don’t dare to meddle randomly anymore. They’re completely reliant on us now.”

Tao De thought for a moment and asked, “What’s the situation in Laurel Town?”

“It’s very difficult for our people to infiltrate the gangs in Stonetooth City, so we can’t find the Masked Brotherhood’s nest at all. But they frequently send their top assassins to kill the ruffian leaders in Laurel Town. Of course, we also send people to assassinate the thief-chiefs in Stonetooth City… The two sides are just in a stalemate.”

“So all the men Barol sends out never return, and you don’t dare show your face in Laurel Town either?” Tao De cut in coldly.

Fitch was dejectedly silent, tacitly agreeing with Tao De’s assessment.

“Are the Masked Brotherhood’s experts formidable?” Tao De asked again.

“The strongest are about on par with Ron, maybe a little stronger,” Fitch said after a thought, then added, “They don’t have as many men as we do.”

Tao De nodded and continued, “Besides Laurel Town, do you have any other footholds?”

Fitch gave him a surprised look and nodded. “Horseshoe Town and Kaxi Town, north of Laurel Town, are in our hands…”

“Arrogant!” Tao De barked angrily. “They are in the hands of their lords, and always have been!”

“On the surface, there seem to be four forces: the Masked Brotherhood, the Southwind Merchants’ Guild, the Stag Merchants’ Guild, and us. But in reality, there are still four forces: Southwind, Stag, the great lord of Stonetooth City, and the minor lords beneath him. The gangs only work for the lords. Without Baron Hanisi’s support, could you have established a foothold in Laurel Town? Without the Dwemick family’s approval, could the Masked Brotherhood have gained a footing in Stonetooth City? Southwind and Stag are fighting, and the minor lords of Dodor are fighting with their great lord. The reason for their struggle is simple: Southwind is seizing Stag’s business, and Stonetooth City is blocking the minor lords’ path to wealth! That’s why Laurel Town, Horseshoe Town, and Kaxi Town are cooperating with Stag to resist infiltration from Stonetooth City.”

Fitch smiled sheepishly. “I don’t understand all that, but we’re not with the Stag Merchants’ Guild…”

“How do you know the Stag Merchants’ Guild doesn’t belong to the Master?” Tao De interrupted him with a counter-question.

“Ah?!”

“My Master is far more powerful than you can imagine, and you know nothing about nobles,” Tao De said, glancing at him with contempt. “The Masked Brotherhood’s men are hiding in the shadows, but they can’t escape the eyes of the informants in the Stonetooth City Thieves’ Guild. I’m guessing Barol wanted to send men to infiltrate the Thieves’ Guild and find the Masked Brotherhood’s nest. But those with strength lack the mind of a scoundrel, and those with the mind lack the strength to protect themselves. Thus, the Master sent me here to assist Barol.”

Tao De stood up, grabbed Fitch by the collar, and stared into his eyes. “The victory or defeat in this struggle lies with the lords, not with us or the Masked Brotherhood. If the lords deem it necessary, the people below will keep fighting until the lords reach an understanding. The question is, will you live to see that day?”

“I… I don’t know…” Fitch said, at a total loss.

“My Master trusts Barol’s loyalty, but his ability is not worthy of the Master’s attention!” Tao De released the cold-sweating Fitch and said faintly, “Finding the Masked Brotherhood and killing them all won’t be enough to end this conflict, but it can increase the Master’s bargaining chips. But the Masked Brotherhood has the home advantage and many eyes and ears. If we follow Barol’s method of infiltrating from the bottom, we won’t have enough men to feed their blades.”

“I will not obey Barol’s orders! I’m going to work alone. From now on, you follow me. Do you understand?” Tao De said, looking down on him.

Fitch saw the cold eyes and had no doubt about the man’s murderous intent. He said submissively, “As you wish, My lord.”

“You’re not wrong to call me ‘My lord.’ I am indeed a knight.” Tao De smiled and patted Fitch’s shoulder. “I will find the Masked Brotherhood using a noble’s methods.”

“My lord, what do you need this lowly one to do?” Fitch asked fawningly.

“Get me four hundred Gold Sols. First, I’m going to the Church to get a bloodline certificate.” Tao De paused, then smiled again. “I’ve been to Stonetooth City before. I have an acquaintance who works for Marquess Dwemick. He’ll surely be happy to introduce a Wild Knight to the magistrate of Stonetooth City.”

“What about Lord Barol?” Fitch asked, uneasy.

Tao De said contemptuously, “Rats belong in their rat holes. Your job is to help me contact the rat.”

Chapter 404: The Setup

In the mountains east of Laurel Town, there was a newly built mountain folk village. It was here that Barol hid.

The terrain of the mountain forest was complex, the vegetation dense, and beasts and monsters ran rampant, greatly restricting the scope of human activity. Thus, this place had always been a lawless land, difficult for lords and the Church to govern.

When Quicksilver went to war with the Masked Brotherhood, Victor ordered Instructor Baritt’s Bear Company and Fermi’s Kestrel smuggling caravan to obey Barol’s command and provide military support to Quicksilver. He subsequently sent over another one hundred and thirty-five Alchemical humans, including fifteen Crouching Ox Militiamen, thirty Lithe Ape militiamen, and ninety Alchemical auxiliary soldiers. On top of that, Baritt used a combination of coercion and bribery to bring the refugees, mountain folk, and lone mercenaries he encountered along the way under his control. The Bear Company had already expanded to four hundred and twenty-two people.

Although a small half of the Bear Company’s members were the old, weak, women, and children, making it look more like a refugee group, so many refugees gathered in one place was still too conspicuous.

Baritt simply ordered his men to clear out a campsite deep in the mountain forest and became a mountain chieftain. Meanwhile, Fermi and Barol, in their roles as mercenary commander and gang leader, accepted employment from the Stag Merchants’ Guild to deal specifically with the Masked Brotherhood. The Bear Company’s camp became Quicksilver’s temporary base of operations, where all the reinforcements from the House of Randell would rest and recuperate before receiving further orders from Barol.

The mountain stronghold’s location was extremely well-hidden. The ravens trained by the House of Randell could deliver messages in a timely manner, while the refugees taken in by the Bear Company could not leave on their own. Unable to contact the outside world, they naturally couldn’t expose the camp’s location. Ever since Pete, the hyena chief of Laurel Town, was assassinated by the Masked Brotherhood, Barol had been hiding in his lair, directing Quicksilver’s clashes with the Masked Brotherhood through the Randall family’s death commandos.

Barol was very safe here. At this moment, he was reading a letter—intelligence sent back by Fitch, his personally trained disciple.

The wooden cabin’s door was suddenly pushed open. The Bear Company’s Baritt and the Kestrel’s Fermi walked in with a burly, unfamiliar man.

“Hey! You old fox, this is Kane, an Elite Guard of the Randall family. He’s brought a secret order from Lord Victor,” Fermi said, affectionately slapping the burly stranger’s shoulder as he called out to Barol.

The burly man’s wooden expression was just like that of any other Elite Guard, but Barol still cast an inquisitive glance at his bodyguard, Badu.

The Lithe Ape militiaman Badu had been running with Quicksilver for several years and could already understand the meaning in Barol’s eyes. He nodded and said, “Kane is part of the reinforcements the Master arranged for Quicksilver. We grew up together. There’s no problem with him.”

Only then did Barol rise to his feet, a broad smile on his face. “So it was Your Excellency Kane who helped out from the shadows during the last capture of the Masked Brotherhood’s Shadow Warrior. Thank you so much.”

“What’s all this ‘Your Excellency’ nonsense? Back when the Ant-men attacked Hill Camp, Lord Randal ordered Kane to protect My Lady Lilia during the evacuation. We’ve known each other for a long time.” Fermi found a chair and sat down, shooting Barol a sidelong glance. “Did you think we’d bring an outsider in here?”

A chill ran down Barol’s spine. Victor had told him that Quicksilver had two forces, one overt and one covert. He personally controlled the overt force, while the covert force followed Quicksilver from a distance, hiding in the wilderness. If he were ever hunted, he just needed to run into the wilderness to receive their cover and support.

However, Barol had no authority to command Quicksilver’s covert force. In his view, while it was certainly a line of retreat Lord Randal had arranged for him, it was also a form of surveillance and deterrence.

Now, the leader of this secret force had finally appeared. And the fact that Victor would have Kane protect My Lady Lilia indicated that he held a relatively high position among the Elite Guards.

Could it be that my lord is very displeased with my performance, and that’s why he sent Kane to warn me?

Barol was full of anxiety, but he kept his expression neutral. He probed, “Fermi, what brings you here today?”

“Uh, I wanted to discuss something with you all.” Fermi scratched his head. “Dragging this out isn’t a solution. I’m planning to take the Kestrel Mercenary Company out of Laurel Town and get back to my smuggling business.”

Barol shook his head. “The Kestrel Mercenary Company accepted employment from the Stag Merchants’ Guild. You should stay in Laurel Town and protect Aide Ruke’s caravan.” He added with a smile, “As long as you stay at the Stag caravan’s post, the Masked Brotherhood’s assassins would never dare to openly challenge Baron Hanith’s authority. You’ll only be in danger if you run around like this.”

“You think I’m scared of that scum who can’t stand the light of day?” Fermi’s eyes widened as he shouted, “I’m bored! Do you understand bored?”

Baritt chimed in from the side, “The Stag Merchants’ Guild is paying the Kestrel Mercenary Company for nothing. You get food, drink, and a commission, all without having to work or risk your lives… I think it’s not a bad deal.”

“You’re happy because you get to hide in the mountains drilling the Bear Company’s men all day,” Fermi retorted with a pout, then added resentfully, “The Stag Guild’s own armed guards have been gathering in Laurel Town one after another, and Aide Ruke has started cutting the mercenaries’ commission. Many of the mercenary companies have already left… Sure, the food and drink are free, but what good is a commission of a few dozen Gold Sol? My Kestrels can earn at least a thousand Gold Sol from a year of running smuggled goods…” He slapped the table and asked, “Old fox, how much longer do my Kestrels have to stay here before we can get back to real business?”

Barol shook his head with a bitter smile and turned to Kane. “What are the master’s orders for Quicksilver?”

“The Master has instructed us on three matters.”

Kane said, “First, Quicksilver’s counter-attack plan is to be put on hold for now. Wait for the Master’s next command.”

Barol nodded. “It is indeed time for a pause.”

The plan to lure and kill the Knight Magistrate of Stonetooth City had been a desperate gamble. The Masked Brotherhood had official protection and was hidden too deeply; Quicksilver simply couldn’t get a tail on them. Only by flipping the whole table and ruining the game for everyone could Barol have a chance to turn the tables.

However, doing so would mean Quicksilver would also be besieged by Stonetooth City, Laurel Town, and the Stag Merchants’ Guild. The underground network Barol had worked so hard to build would be utterly destroyed, and it might even attract the attention of Dodor’s spies. It would then be much harder for Quicksilver to infiltrate the Stag Merchants’ Guild and Dodor’s underworld forces again.

Barol dared to propose this mutually destructive plan because he believed his master was more interested in the Masked Brotherhood’s secrets. If they could capture a core member of the Brotherhood and interrogate them for information, Quicksilver could atone for its failures in the eyes of their master. But Barol hadn’t expected Tao De, the man sent by the family, to actually be an apprentice knight. Furthermore, he was preparing to infiltrate Stonetooth City’s inner circle and use the power of the Magistrate’s Office to track down the Shadow of the Mask.

In fact, Tao De’s chances of success were very high. Although his achievements would certainly outshine Quicksilver’s, Quicksilver would also get to preserve its newly developed informants and secret agents.

As for Tao De’s loyalty, that wasn’t something Barol needed to worry about. Besides, Tao De was keeping Fitch by his side as a liaison, which showed he had no intention of escaping Quicksilver’s surveillance.

Barol felt he could accept the new plan led by Tao De. He had been preparing to write a letter to Victor to explain the current situation.

“Second, the Master requires the leaders of the Bear Company, Quicksilver, and the various smuggling caravans to keep an eye out for young people who are naturally sharp and sensitive to danger. If they are of low status and have simple backgrounds, you are to find a way to send them to the Randell Fief.” Kane stated flatly, “My lord also told you not to worry. He has a secret art that can turn these people into Ferocious Warriors, just like Narsen.”

“I actually have someone like that under me!” Fermi slapped his thigh and grinned. “The kid used to be a young mountain folk boy, been with me for a while now. If you made him lose interest in women, you might as well just kill him for a quicker death… Uh, Kane, no offense to you guys…”

Death commandos were a lord’s secret and taboo. Lilia and Narsen were extremely secretive about the origins of the elite soldiers. The War Bear Mercenaries had a vague inkling, but they didn’t dare discuss their master’s death commandos within the fief. The War Bear Mercenaries who were stationed outside spent their days and nights with the Alchemical humans and had fewer reservations. They couldn’t help but probe for the secret behind the Elite Guards’ power. The Alchemical humans, of course, wouldn’t reveal the truth. They either remained silent or fended off questions with a unified, prepared story. However, a rumor that the Elite Guards were subjected to drug-induced castration from a young age still spread among the mercenary commanders.

From then on, no one envied the strength of the Alchemical militia anymore.

If you can’t be a man, what’s the point of having power!

“We can take a medicine, but it makes us unable to have children, so assigning women to us is a waste,” Badu said faintly.

Baritt, who was drinking water, heard this and sprayed half a mouthful out. He coughed for a long time, then pointed at Barol and said, “Old fox, is this your doing?!”

“What else could I do? The people in Quicksilver need to conceal their identities!” Barol spread his hands, unconcerned.

“Give me a copy of the medicine’s formula!”

“They know how to mix it themselves… guaranteed to satisfy you!” Barol shot the instructor a disdainful look, then turned his head. “Kane, continue.”

“The third matter can only be told to Lord Barol. Everyone else, please step out.”

Fermi and Baritt exchanged a look, then got up and left the wooden cabin, closing the door behind them.

Barol walked to the window and heard them talking as they walked away:

“Old man, can’t get it up anymore?”

“Piss off! I’m doing just fine…”

Once the two were far enough away, Barol returned to his seat and watched as Kane took two parchment scrolls from a pouch at his waist.

“This scroll is a list of men from the Stag Merchants’ Guild who have joined the Southwind Merchants’ Guild. Their respective backgrounds are noted on it. Lord Randal suspects that some of the Stag Merchants’ Guild’s key members have a foot in both camps, intentionally sending their confidants to join the Southwind Merchants’ Guild in advance to secure a path of retreat for themselves.”

Barol unrolled the scroll and saw the name of Ruke, the Stag Merchants’ Guild’s aide in Laurel Town. He couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh.

At this point, the Stag Merchants’ Guild was in disarray. The men at the bottom were originally hired freemen. Switching to the Southwind Merchants’ Guild was just a way to make a living; it couldn’t be considered betrayal, nor should it implicate the caravan’s aide.

However, Quicksilver’s goal was to infiltrate the Stag Merchants’ Guild, win over its core members to join The Golden Company, and not stand by and watch them fall into the arms of the Southwind Merchants’ Guild. This was the fundamental reason why Quicksilver was fighting the Masked Brotherhood to the bitter end.

With defeats mounting on the external front, it was even more critical to tighten control internally. The cruel necessity of making an example of someone was now laid bare on the table.

“What does my lord want me to do?” Barol asked in a low voice.

“This scroll records a drug formula. Our own people cannot read it!” Kane handed the completely sealed scroll to Barol. “My lord wants you to set up a scheme to deliver the formula into the hands of a certain Stag Merchants’ Guild aide, making him think it’s something the Southwind Merchants’ Guild is using to bribe Marquess Dwemick. Then, you are to secretly escort him to the York family’s residence in Blinor City. My lord requires that you have both the witness and material evidence, leaving no loose ends. Also, besides the aide himself, no one is allowed to see the contents of the scroll.”

Barol took the scroll, pondering. “What do we do with those who know?”

“They can only die.”

“What about the actors in the play?” Barol raised his head and asked, staring into Kane’s eyes.

“My lord has prepared a team. They will escort the scroll into the territory under the guise of the Masked Brotherhood. You will decide the specific route, time, and location. But they will defend the scroll to the death, so you cannot be careless when you decide to make your move.”

“How many people in the team?” Barol found his throat was terribly hoarse. He quickly raised his cup and took a sip of water.

“Fifteen.”

This meant sacrificing fifteen of the family’s death commandos, maybe more… Barol’s pupils contracted sharply, and the water in his cup sloshed over the rim. Kane’s voice, however, remained as placid as ever. “The master asked me to tell you that we’ve already lost enough people. The outcome of this war will be decided outside the chessboard.”

Barol was silent for a long time. He let out a long breath, his voice raspy. “I understand. I will arrange everything perfectly and will not disappoint our master!”

Chapter 405: Misunderstanding

Stonetooth City, at the Windbell Inn.

This high-end inn, opened by the Stonetooth City magistrate, specialized in hosting traveling caravans. The stewards of the various merchant caravans always made sure to patronize the magistrate’s establishment, so naturally, a stay at the Windbell Inn did not come cheap.

The entire inn had now been booked out at a high price by Lord Eckhart Wimbledon of the Stag Merchants’ Guild. Unfortunately, all Magistrate Wamon could do to help Eckhart was to dismiss all the staff and prevent any outsiders from prying.

“Jessie, were any of the Thieves’ Guild chiefs in the city assassinated last night?” Eckhart asked his servant while enjoying a delicious breakfast.

“I haven’t heard anything…”

Seeing his master’s displeased expression, Jessie carefully corrected himself, “Perhaps the news hasn’t gotten out yet.”

“Heh, for seventeen whole days, Stonetooth City has been dead calm… It’s completely ruined my appetite!” Eckhart crudely pushed his breakfast away, walked to the window, and gazed out at the cityscape.

“That damned Old Denver! He took our money but isn’t doing his job! I’ll send someone to warn him right now!” Jessie said angrily.

Eckhart tapped on the window frame, shaking his head with a sigh. “Forget it. The old hyena has killed a few men, after all… We have to give Baron Hanisie some face.”

The Stag Merchants’ Guild’s greatest support in their struggle against the Southwind Merchants’ Guild in Stonetooth City came from the small, independent lords surrounding the Dwemic family lands.

The Thieves’ Guild in Stonetooth City had coerced the local freemen merchants, forbidding them from doing business with the Stag Merchants’ Guild. But these freemen merchants were not only on the periphery of the Stag guild, they were also agents for the vassals of the smaller noble families. Marquess Dwemick had tacitly allowed the Southwind Merchants’ Guild to use Stonetooth City’s underworld forces to strike at the Stag Merchants’ Guild, an act that infringed upon the interests of the small lords. When the Stag Merchants’ Guild decided to fight back, they proved to be exceptionally eager allies.

Old Denver was the very gang leader recommended to Eckhart by the Laurel Town magistrate. His performance in the underground war had been commendable, and he quickly became the leading figure for the Stag Merchants’ Guild’s side. If not for Eckhart getting carried away and falling into a trap set by the Boreans, the Stag Merchants’ Guild’s situation in Stonetooth City wouldn’t be so desperate.

With the Boreans gaining the upper hand in Stonetooth City, the thugs Eckhart had hired scattered, leaving only Old Denver to firmly support the Stag Merchants’ Guild. He united the local gangs and periodically sent men to assassinate the leaders of the Stonetooth City Thieves’ Guild.

Although Old Denver’s assassination campaign could hardly turn the tide, it was exceptionally important for the Stag Merchants’ Guild.

The enemy was already at their doorstep. If they didn’t resist, the organization would collapse from within. The Masked Brotherhood’s assassinations were meant to intimidate the members of the Stag Merchants’ Guild, while the Stag guild’s assassinations were initially meant to boost morale. But now, Old Denver’s actions served to intimidate the unstable elements within the Stag Merchants’ Guild as well.

It was laughable, but it was reality.

As a lord granted investiture by the Wimbledon family, Eckhart had no choice but to obey the orders from the Marquess’s estate. Before the dust settled, he and Lord Abel had to ensure the guild remained intact so they could sell the Stag guild for a good price.

In any case, the ones dying were all gangland thugs. The Stag guild was only spending some money, and Marquess Sophia was footing the bill anyway.

The Stag Merchants’ Guild had lost its commercial network in the other major cities of the Dodor Kingdom; only Stonetooth City, which was Eckhart’s responsibility, was still holding out. Marquess Sophia had already ordered the Stag guild to concentrate its forces and teach the Boreans a painful lesson in Stonetooth City.

No matter the outcome, Old Denver, as Eckhart’s local muscle, was the perfect person to take the blame.

As this thought improved Eckhart’s mood, he was about to resume his meal when an attendant ran in, panting.

“My lord, pant… Ru… Aide Ruke sent word! He… he intercepted a team from the Masked Brotherhood in Horseshoe Town!” the attendant gasped.

The Masked Brotherhood was a loose criminal organization formed by various Thieves’ Guilds, large and small, from the kingdoms of Borea and Sus. It was a tool born from the compromise between the two kingdoms, used to jointly control the Eastern Alliance.

The Stag Merchants’ Guild had dealt with the Masked Brotherhood often while traveling through the Eastern Alliance. Though the Brotherhood was ruthless and had its own enforcers and mercenary companies, it wasn’t strong enough to defeat the Stag guild on its own.

The reason the Wimbledon Merchant Association was powerless to fight back was that the powerful lords of Dodor were secretly protecting the Masked Brotherhood. However, if Ruke could capture some of them alive, he could dig up the Masked Brotherhood’s secret strongholds in the major cities. With the Stag guild’s strength, they could catch them all in one net.

“This is wonderful news!” Eckhart laughed heartily, grabbing his cloak and heading for the door.

“My lord, where are you going?” Jessie asked.

“To Horseshoe Town.”

“Your breakfast…”

Eckhart pushed the door open and said without turning back, “What breakfast! Get over here, now!”

“Honestly, he won’t eat when he’s unhappy, and he won’t eat when he’s happy…” Jessie grumbled as he followed his master.

To the east of Horseshoe Town was a canyon that led directly to the central basin of the Kingdom of Naville. For a long time, it had served as the trade hub connecting Stonetooth City to Naville. The Stag Merchants’ Guild maintained a permanent freight yard and stronghold on the outskirts of the town.

It was evening by the time Eckhart arrived in Horseshoe Town. His carriage drove directly into the guild’s compound. The manager of the freight yard came forward to greet him, accompanied by a sharp-looking, middle-aged man.

“Fermi, what are you doing here?” Eckhart glanced at the middle-aged man in surprise, then had a realization. “Ruke mobilized your Kestrel Mercenary Company as well?”

“Yes, my lord,” Fermi said with a bow. “Master Ruke is waiting for you.”

“Did you capture anyone alive?” Eckhart asked as he walked.

“Er… My lord, the situation is a bit complicated… We only captured one person alive. Ruke is interrogating them in the leftmost room on the third floor,” the manager said quietly.

Eckhart didn’t press further. He led his guards and servant up to the third floor and pushed open the door, only to see Ruke sitting slumped in a chair, looking dejected. Old Denver and six of his thugs were staring at him menacingly. Eckhart sensed something was wrong. The moment his hand touched his sword hilt, three crossbows were immediately aimed at him, while his own guard had a dagger pressed against his neck.

Eckhart released his sword hilt and asked coldly, “Old Denver, have you defected to the Southwind Merchants’ Guild as well?”

“My lord, don’t be nervous. I wouldn’t dare harm a lordship,” Old Denver said with a deep bow. He then gestured towards Eckhart’s guards with his chin and said with a smirk, “It seems we’ve gotten ourselves involved in something serious. Are you sure you want them to listen in?”

“You’re all dismissed.”

After his guards and servant were escorted out of the room by Old Denver’s men, Eckhart asked in a low voice, “Ruke, what in the world is going on? Where are your guards?”

“They’re all dead… slaughtered… by the Kestrel company and Old Denver’s men…” Ruke lifted his red, swollen face and said with a bitter smile, “I was originally planning to silence them, but I never expected the Kestrel Mercenary Company to be so formidable. They killed all my men instead.”

Fury erupted in Eckhart’s eyes. “Explain yourself clearly!” he said in an icy tone.

“The morning before last, Old Denver came to me and said they’d caught a killer from the Brotherhood and interrogated him for intelligence. A team from the Masked Brotherhood was going to pass through Horseshoe Town on its way to Stonetooth City. I personally examined the killer’s body and the Brotherhood insignia. After confirming it, I decided to lead my men to ambush them…”

Ruke spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva and said hatefully, “Old Denver’s men disguised themselves as that killer to make contact, and then lured them to a secluded spot… But who knew? They weren’t gangland thugs at all, but a squad of highly trained elite soldiers! Even after more than half of them were taken down by crossbow bolts, they refused to surrender, killing several Kestrel mercenaries who were trying to take them alive. In the end, not a single one was left alive… I saw them take a special kind of potion that made them incredibly strong and agile… I suspected then that they were elite soldiers from the Kingdom of Borea on a special mission. After I found a scroll on one of their bodies, I was basically certain it was a gift from the Southwind Merchants’ Guild to buy off Marquess Dwemick. Of course I gave the order to silence them… and that’s how things ended up like this… Old Denver had his men pretend to be prisoners to fool the yard manager, and they even called you over.”

Eckhart had been wondering why Marquess Dwemick would risk offending the smaller lords who depended on him just to cooperate with the Masked Brotherhood and attack the trade network built by the Stag Merchants’ Guild.

The Dwemic family was using the struggle between the two major merchant associations to monopolize the trade of goods in Stonetooth City and exploit the surrounding small lords. But if the Stag Merchants’ Guild was utterly defeated, the Southwind Merchants’ Guild would still engage in mutually beneficial trade with the small lords. The Dwemic family’s tireless efforts to help the Boreans strike at Marquess Sophia seemed incredibly unwise.

Unless the Southwind Merchants’ Guild had made the Dwemic family an offer they couldn’t refuse—one they weren’t planning to share with the small lords.

Marquess Sophia desperately wanted to know what the Boreans had used to buy off the great lords of Dodor, but despite mobilizing all her resources, she hadn’t been able to find out.

Since Ruke had stumbled upon a golden opportunity, his attempt to silence them was surely an effort to cut out his superior and claim the credit and rewards from the Marchioness for himself.

Eckhart was so furious he wanted to kill him, but he also needed to find out what Borea’s offer was.

“Where’s the scroll?”

“Heh heh, I burned it on the spot… Now, besides me, no one knows what was in it.” Ruke laughed smugly. “It was a potion formula… Judging by the Borean soldiers’ performance, that formula is priceless. Lord Eckhart, I’m willing to share the credit with you, but first, you have to help me deal with Old Denver and the Kestrel Mercenary Company.”

Eckhart suppressed his anger and turned to Old Denver and Fermi. “You can’t afford to get mixed up in this. Even though you killed the guild’s guards, I can still give you a chance… From now on, you’ll work for me. As for the fallen Kestrel brothers, I will compensate them handsomely… Three hundred Gold Sols per man!”

Old Denver smiled. He took off his hat and bowed. “Allow me to reintroduce myself. My name is Barol, and he is still Fermi… I am the chief of spies for Viscount Randell, and Fermi is Lord Randal’s Guard Captain.”

“What?!” Eckhart stared at the old villain in disbelief.

“Your Lordship, surely you are aware that my master is the master of your house, and your Marchioness is my lady?” Barol said mockingly.

Fermi laughed heartily. “Otherwise, did you think some ordinary mercenary company could take down a caravan’s guard detachment? Did you think we’d risk our lives fighting the Masked Brotherhood for the Stag Merchants’ Guild?”

“My lords, a misunderstanding! This is all a misunderstanding…” Ruke shouted.

“How do I know you weren’t helping the Masked Brotherhood silence people?” Barol said coldly. “I have a list here, full of Stag Merchants’ Guild members who have defected to Southwind. Some of your men, Ruke, are on it. And this list was given to my master by his lady.”

“They’re just freemen we hired! They have nothing to do with me…” Ruke explained frantically, cold sweat beading on his forehead.

“Whether they do or not, telling me is useless!” Barol turned his head. “Lord Eckhart, Ruke is your man. If he’s got a problem, you can’t escape responsibility. I suggest we go quietly to see Lord Randal.”

Fermi sized him up and said, “Your Lordship, you may be an apprentice knight, but I’d advise you not to make any rash moves, lest it cause an unnecessary misunderstanding… The guards of House of Randell really have killed an apprentice knight before.”

Eckhart said calmly, “I demand to see Marchioness Wimbledon.”

“That’s not up to you,” Barol said, shaking his head with a smile. “However, my master and his lady are currently in the Royal Capital of Gambis, attending the new king’s coronation. If we hurry, we might just make it to the Marquess’s estate in the capital to be questioned by our master.”

Chapter 406: Coronation Ceremony

Brinol Cathedral.

Dozens of limestone pillars supported a twenty-four-meter-high dome. In the center, an altar carved from white-glazed rock was bathed in a straight beam of light that illuminated the prayer hall with a solemn, sacred aura.

“…Edward Auguste, today, you are crowned King. May our Lord guide your path and clear your obstacles… Don the crown… Adorned with bronze, silver, and gold, it represents mercy, for you shall have pity on the weak and ensure their livelihood; it represents respect, for you shall uphold the honor and prestige of your vassals; it represents protection, for you shall protect the faithful and your subjects, keeping them from harm… And remember, you are the King of Gambis and the father of its knights. The supreme Lord of Radiance blesses you, granting you power and dignity, to be unoffended for all generations to come…”

Clement, clad in the golden robes of the Pontiff, held the crown aloft, his expression solemn as he recited the lengthy prayer. Edward, dressed in the king’s ceremonial robes, knelt on one knee before the altar, his handsome young face taut with tension.

Standing on the red carpet of the prayer hall, Victor felt a strong sense of déjà vu.

When the little Baron was an attendant at Aerie Fortress, Roland would often play all sorts of role-playing games with him and Edward, and they had acted out the coronation ceremony many times. Edward had been very young back then, with little patience, and would ask Roland in a childish voice halfway through, “Are we done yet?” Roland would immediately rap his forehead with a finger and make him continue kneeling until the end.

Now, as Edward knelt before the Pontiff, his neck was tilted slightly back, his posture a little stiff. Others might think the little king was merely nervous. But Victor knew he was ready to dodge a rap on the head at any moment. It was likely a habit from those old days.

Roland’s game had become reality. The twelve-year-old Edward was already a dashingly handsome young man, but his habits remained the same.

While power was alluring, given the free-spirited nature of the Auguste family, Edward probably did not desire the throne of Gambis all that much. His wish to please Roland likely accounted for most of his motivation, just like in their childhood games.

The difference was that back then, there weren’t so many important figures playing along with the siblings’ antics.

The bishops and lords of Gambis were gathered here, with envoys from various nations observing from both sides of the red carpet. Standing behind Edward were Sylvia, Goron, and Roland—the three Protectors of the Kingdom. Queen Catherine and Regent Williams led the nobles of the Auguste family, standing at the foot of the steps. Behind them were Marquess Bastern, Marquess Leopold, Marquess Ludwig, Marquess Grewald, and the Marchioness of Wimbledon. Following the five Court Marquesses were the fief lords of the Auguste family. Only after them came the five powerful lords—Wellington, Joshua, Nim, York, and Thorim—along with the rest of the independent lords.

Although Victor’s fame was great, in an occasion like this, he could only stand near the back.

Most of the other lords were accompanied by their wives and heirs, but Victor was a great distance from his wife, and even further from Sylvia. Fortunately, Anna was behind him, and to his side were the beautiful and charming Judy and her eight-year-old son, Primo Briatte. They looked almost like a family of four.

A blush graced Anna’s delicate little face, and her large, watery eyes were fixed unblinkingly on the heroic young king. Bathed in holy light and surrounded by Gold Knights, Edward was clearly captivating the young girls of his age.

At a coronation ceremony, where a king’s right to rule was divinely sanctioned, the king himself was the undisputed star. The lords and honored guests all had their eyes fixed on the King and the Pontiff, and Victor was no exception.

However, Victor felt neither loyalty to others nor devout faith; he merely held a sense of awe for power and extraordinary strength. The atmosphere of the coronation was solemn and grave, yet Victor felt a sense of detachment. He even hid amongst the lords, using the corner of his eye to size up the Queen.

Catherine’s features were clear and radiant, bearing a striking resemblance to Roland. From a distance, they looked like sisters.

This was the first time Victor had seen the Queen in person. In his memory, the little Baron had not only respected and loved the Queen, but had also harbored fantasies about her.

It was perfectly normal for an adolescent attendant experiencing the first pangs of love to admire the beautiful and noble Queen. The little Baron had inadvertently revealed his hazy feelings for the Queen to Roland, and after learning Roland’s true identity, he had been scared to death, afraid the princess would tell Her Majesty the Queen about his embarrassing crush.

The little Baron had died without ever knowing that Catherine was likely his first woman.

If the little Baron’s memories were not mistaken, three noble female knights had personally “instructed” him. Although they all wore golden masks at the time, Victor could use X-3 to reference the memory fragments, comparing details of their eyes, ears, lips, necks, and arms to confirm their true identities.

The little Baron’s most memorable first time was, shockingly, with Catherine!

This conclusion was utterly horrifying to Victor.

With Edward’s coronation, Catherine’s wish had been fulfilled. Yet her demeanor was as elegant and beautiful as ever, her expression placid, betraying not a hint of joy. It was clear her will was strong enough to control her innermost emotions.

In a sense, high-ranking knights and ordinary people were two completely different forms of life. Silver-rank female knights sought noble bloodlines, but they were not wanton. They enjoyed pleasure but would not lose themselves in it.

Catherine had only been intimate with the little Baron once. Judging by the timing, it happened not long after King Ryan’s death, when the little Baron’s Moon Elf bloodline was still very thin. By all rights, Catherine should not have done such a thing.

Unless the little Baron had another secret Victor didn’t know about!

Whatever Catherine’s designs on the little Baron might have been, Victor decided to keep his distance from her.

Victor was Victor, and the little Baron was the little Baron. The man inside had changed. It was like how the little Baron’s biological father was also present at the coronation. Victor felt no ripple of emotion upon seeing his blood relative, not even the desire to greet him.

Clement finally placed the crown on Edward’s head. When the new king rose to face the crowd, Victor and the other lords drew their swords, knelt on one knee, and swore an oath: “My King, I swear fealty to you, from this day until forever!”

Next, as was customary, Edward publicly invested the new king’s Champion, Bow-Bearer, Shield-Bearer, and Horse-Bearer—a total of four young retainer knights. They were all sons of the Royal Capital’s nobility and would henceforth accompany Edward, protecting his safety, though their main duty was to serve as the king’s couriers.

Unfortunately, with Williams as Regent, Edward still had a long way to go before he could make his own will known. But his coronation as king signified that the strife brought upon the August family by the late King’s death was now over, and the political situation in Gambis was shifting from turmoil to stability.

For the independent lords of Gambis, simply not being drawn into the royal family’s internal struggles was a blessing. And Victor had reaped enough benefits from this political storm; otherwise, he would still be a little boy-toy, tangled in the affairs of the Royal Capital’s high-ranking female knights.

But… it seemed… that situation hadn’t really changed.

The coronation ceremony finally ended. Wearing the king’s crown, Edward left the cathedral amidst a crowd of followers, boarded a magnificent carriage, and headed for the royal palace. He would host a small banquet in Aerie Fortress’s Knight’s Hall for the Pontiff, bishops, envoys from all nations, and the nobles of Gambis with the rank of Marquess and above.

Only after the Grand Military Tournament determined the new knight-nobles would the new king host a grand banquet for all the lords and ministers of Gambis.

The big winner, Viscount Randell, could only watch as Sylvia and Sophia departed with the king’s carriage. Despite his multiple identities, the major powers in the kingdom preferred him to be the viscount lord of the Centaur Hills, not the husband of the Marchioness of Wimbledon.

“My dear Lord Viscount Randell, would you be willing to be a guest at the Briatte family residence?” the ever-perceptive Judy extended an invitation.

Victor withdrew his gaze and smiled, bowing slightly. “My beautiful Lady Judy, would I have the honor of inviting you and Young Master Primo to enjoy the scenery of Blinor City with me? Hmm… just like strolling through Wildwillow City.”

“Yay! Yay!” Angelina clapped her hands in delight beside them. It was the York family’s pearl’s first time in the Royal Capital, but Sophia had kept her cooped up in the Marquess’s estate, practicing etiquette for the coronation, and she had been bored to death.

The heir of the Briatte family, however, just snorted and turned his little head away.

The customs of this world were rather peculiar. Among commoners, men were still held superior to women, but among the knight-nobility, gender was irrelevant; only bloodline and power mattered. Victor’s dominant Will Side hailed from a modern patriarchal society, and his male chauvinistic ideas were deeply ingrained. He saw Judy as his woman and was also willing to play the role of a father to Primo. Unfortunately, his handsome and frail appearance, like that of a sixteen or seventeen-year-old noble youth, didn’t look at all like that of a mature father.

Primo had been very close to Victor at first, treating him like a big brother. But as the little fellow grew older, he realized that the big brother he looked up to was actually sleeping with his mother. The image of Victor he held in his heart shattered, and feeling betrayed by both of them, he was suddenly very unhappy.

Judy was extremely embarrassed. She gave Victor an apologetic look, then sternly scolded, “Primo Briatte, mind your manners!”

Victor wasn’t about to get angry with a little brat. When Primo came of age, he would naturally understand that Victor and Judy’s union was more a matter of family politics. If he couldn’t accept reality, he would never be able to inherit the Briatte family title.

It was no exaggeration to say that Wildwillow City’s current prosperity and immense profits, currying favor on all sides, were built on its close relationship with the House of Randell. The entire Briatte family, and even the surrounding lords, did not want to change the current situation. If Primo insisted on his own way, his end would surely be tragic, and he would drag Judy down with him.

If Judy and her son were to truly lose power, Victor wouldn’t mind. He held abundant resources, enough to guarantee the Randall family’s interests in Wildwillow City. Lady Judy, having lost her family’s support, would have no choice but to change her identity and be taken in by him at Silver Moon Manor. As for Primo, whoever wanted to take him in could take him in.

Of course, Victor had always been generous to his own people. Once the Gold Restoration Potion was laundered, he could push Judy to the level of a senior knight, helping her solidify her power and status within the Briatte family.

“My dear, since Primo doesn’t want to go for a walk, you two can go back and rest. I’ll take Anna for a casual stroll,” Victor said with a slight smile, patting Primo’s stubborn little head.

Just as he spoke, a young man in the ceremonial robes of a court viscount walked over. He bowed to Judy and said with a grin, “My beautiful lady, you don’t mind if I borrow Viscount Randell for a moment, do you?”

Judy returned the bow gracefully, her greeting proper yet warm. “Viscount Paisike, it’s been some time since you last graced Wildwillow City. I heard you resigned from your post as the Royal Capital’s tax collector and are now the Minister of Internal Affairs’ right-hand man?”

Victor coughed and said with a smile, “My dear, your information is outdated… Allow me to reintroduce him. This is Viscount Ternis Ludwig, former tax collector of the Royal Capital, a good friend of mine, and now the Chief Scribe of the kingdom’s Ministry of Internal Affairs. He’s also Marquess Ludwig’s grandson-in-law and the kingdom’s future Grand Vizier.”

“My apologies, Viscount Ludwig. The Briatte family will send a congratulatory gift to celebrate your marriage to the young lady of the Ludwig family,” Judy said, shooting Victor a bewitching glare. “My dear, you didn’t even give me a hint. You made me commit a faux pas in front of the future Grand Vizier.”

Victor held up his hands innocently. “This fellow got married to the Ludwig family’s young lady without even informing me… I only found out when I arrived in the Royal Capital.” He stroked his smooth chin, eyeing Viscount Ternis suspiciously. “…Could it be because of my notorious reputation? In any case, don’t expect a wedding gift from me.”

Judy let out a giggle, as charming as a blooming flower.

Viscount Ternis’s face flushed, and he said awkwardly, “Victor, stop teasing me… I was fortunate enough to marry into the Ludwig family, how could I dare to be too high-profile…”

“Oh, sounds like there’s a story to be told… How about we go to a tavern for a drink?” Victor said with a playful grin.

“Then I won’t disturb you two any longer. I shall take my leave.”

Judy smiled, curtsied, and, taking Primo with her, gracefully stepped into a light carriage.

Victor watched the Briatte family’s carriage disappear into the distance, silently praying for little Primo’s bottom and hoping Judy wouldn’t be too harsh.

“Truly an outstanding beauty. No wonder she has earned Viscount Randell’s admiration,” Ternis teased from the side.

“Where are you planning to take me for a drink?” Victor smiled and gestured for Narsen and Caligula to come over.

“The best tavern in the Royal Capital is undoubtedly the Four-leaf Alfalfa, opened by Baron Tyrrell. Baron Tyrrell is Her Majesty the Queen’s brother. You should be very familiar with the place,” Ternis said.

Victor’s heart skipped a beat. After a moment’s thought, he smiled and said, “I heard you opened a place called the Blue Amber Inn in the outer district. I’ll go there to show my support.”

Ternis paused, then said hesitantly, “Well… Baron Shatan Wimbledon and Baroness Lilia are staying at my Blue Amber Inn…”

“I know. I happen to need to pay a visit to my parents,” Victor said with a matter-of-fact nod. He then turned his head and said, “Anna…”

“I want to go too!” Anna said, quickly shaking her head.

“An inn in the outer district is no place for you… How about this, I’ll take you to Aerie Fortress tomorrow,” Victor said, a headache coming on.

Anna’s eyes lit up, and she nodded repeatedly. She wanted another chance to see His Majesty, Edward Auguste, up close.

Ternis asked, bewildered, “This young lady is…”

“Angelina Branstat York. It is an honor to meet Your Excellency Ludwig,” Anna said, giving a Knight’s salute.

Ternis scrambled to return the salute. “Oh, my apologies, Miss York. That was my oversight.”

Anna gave a reserved nod, then turned to Victor and said in a sweet voice, “You’ll take me to Aerie Fortress tomorrow… My lord, you can’t go back on your word!” Before Victor could change his mind, she boarded her carriage with her Guardian Knight.

“Let’s go,” Victor said to Ternis.

“Oh, right,” Ternis said, snapping back to reality. He waved a hand behind him. An attendant with a nimble posture and well-proportioned physique mounted a warhorse and galloped ahead toward the Blue Amber Inn in the outer district to make arrangements.

Through his elemental vision, Victor was shocked to discover that this was a Bronze-rank Knight, and suspicion flickered in his heart. But considering the power and status of the Ludwig family, It wasn’t surprising for them to arrange a few secret knights for his meeting with Ternis.

Not giving it much more thought, Victor shared a carriage with Ternis. Narsen led the Personal Guard on their Swiftbirds close behind, while Caligula had no choice but to stretch his two legs and run all the way there.

Chapter 407: The New Tax

The wheels rolled over the road paved with bluestone slabs, the light carriage jolting from time to time.

“Laketon’s roads are wide and smooth. In this, Blinor City is far inferior,” Ternis said with a troubled expression, clutching the carriage’s handrail. “I like the liveliness of the Royal Capital, but I particularly detest two-wheeled carriages.”

The former tax collector’s compliment brought a smile to Victor’s face. He said thoughtfully, “I often dream of a city where the buildings line the streets in neat rows, with roads leading in every direction. Every ten meters, there are two crystal streetlights, so that even when dark clouds hide the moon, the city never plunges into darkness. Its sewer system is as intricate as a labyrinth. The city is home to over a million residents.”

“A city with a population of several million… I can’t imagine how long its walls would have to be,” Ternis said with a faint smile.

“There are no walls, no castles… because the monsters and beasts are kept in cages for the city’s residents to view. Of course, they have to buy a ticket for admission.”

“No walls… monsters kept in cages…” Ternis muttered to himself, then had a realization. “Your dream is of a city-state from the Golden Age.”

“No. I dream of the future.” Victor paused, then said tactfully, “My friend, I can see that your marriage has brought you trouble, not joy.”

Viscount Ternis was silent for a moment before letting out a long sigh. “My wife now is not Mary, but Susanna of the Ludwig family.”

Victor’s pointed ears perked up instantly. He didn’t want to pry into others’ private affairs, but a lord could not ignore intelligence from the kingdom’s center. Even if the other party was merely a minor character, who could say there wasn’t an angle to be played? Especially since Ternis’s marriage involved the Ludwig family.

Having found an excuse for his own gossip, Victor asked with feigned surprise, “How could that be? Weren’t you and Mary betrothed?”

“My bride was switched, and I had no choice but to accept… That’s the situation,” Ternis said helplessly.

Victor’s curiosity was not yet satisfied. He asked tentatively, “Is it that… your new wife is not as beautiful as Mary, or is her family background unsatisfactory?”

“No, no, Susanna’s beauty is impeccable. Her grandfather, Count Petra Ludwig, is the Marquess’s younger brother and also a noble Silver Knight. The Count serves as the prefect of Cantor County in the north. Susanna’s father is his second son, and her family possesses vast hereditary fiefs.”

Seeing a trace of disdain in Victor’s puzzled eyes, Ternis had no choice but to say, “Alright… Susanna is a Knight.”

“A Knight who advanced naturally, or with the help of a Vigor Potion?” Victor asked softly.

“She used a Vigor Potion…” Ternis shook his head with a bitter smile. “What difference does it make to me?”

The marriage between an ordinary noble and a Knight was destined to be a tragedy, especially when the wife was a female Knight.

Susanna would age far more slowly than Ternis. Once they produced a legitimate heir, she would no longer be bound by matrimony and could freely pursue a High-ranked Knight as a partner. Although Ternis would have many young and beautiful lovers throughout his life, his position within the family would ultimately be the weaker one.

In the end, familial relationships were tied to the balance of power between husband and wife. If Ternis were a powerful Ferocious Warrior like Narsen, his Knight-wife would never dare to disregard her husband’s authority.

Victor expressed his sympathy for Viscount Ternis’s future married life. He cleared his throat and offered some consolation, “It seems you are outstanding enough to have earned the favor of the Ludwig family… It’s just a bit unfair to Mary… Of course, it’s not your fault… I hope Mary can find a suitable partner soon.”

“You need not worry about Mary’s reputation,” Ternis said with a blank expression. “She was married before I was, to my former colleague and the current tax collector of the Royal Capital—Viscount Hawke Fisher. I expect it won’t be long before he pays a visit to your Laketon.”

Victor’s gaze sharpened. He mused, “I remember that Miss Mary’s father is the fourth son of the Minister of Internal Affairs, and he serves as the kingdom’s Chief Tax Administrator? Mary’s betrothal was actually the Chief Tax Administrator’s way of finding a successor?”

“Indeed,” Ternis confirmed with a nod.

“So, Viscount Hawke of the Fisher family stole your wife and your future? How interesting.” Victor’s eyes burned with curiosity as he asked, “My friend, can you tell me why?”

Ternis thought for a moment, then said in a low voice, “The Church is trialing a new tithe in the Randell Fief. This news reached Brinol Cathedral. After His Highness the Regent visited Archbishop Lazarus, he requested that the Chief Tax Administrator draft a new tax plan. And Viscount Fisher, getting ahead of everyone, very timely submitted a new tax document… I don’t need to elaborate on the rest.”

Hearing this, Victor understood everything.

The wilderness in a fief was long plagued by beasts and monsters, so lords left the wild resources for their subjects to manage, collecting only a symbolic tribute. The reason lords did this was, of course, due to objective limitations, but it was also a way to avoid taxes by “hiding wealth among the people.” In times of disaster, lords had the right to requisition the resources held by their subjects.

From the perspective of a resident priest, the wild resources of a fief were difficult to tally, hard to preserve, and closely tied to the people’s livelihood. Moreover, the faithful would voluntarily donate a portion of their resources to the Church. Thus, the Church simply didn’t collect a tithe on wild resources, and the Royal Capital’s tax collectors primarily levied the annual tribute tax on lords based on the Church’s tithe statistics. They could only turn a blind eye to the wild resources the lords had stashed away.

Not taxing wild resources was a time-honored tradition.

The Ant-man army had swept through the Centaur Hills, and the beasts and monsters there were either dead or scattered. When the Ant-man tide receded, the afflicted lords naturally seized the opportunity to expand their effective control into the wilderness, trying their best to squeeze the monsters’ living space before they could return.

The York family, following Victor’s plan, built new waterworks, opened up terraced fields, relocated people to establish settlements, and planted various cash crops, turning the wilderness into cultivated land. The fief’s wealth grew at an astonishing rate, but the wild resources had also become the fief’s produce.

It seemed perfectly reasonable for both the Church and the Royal Family to demand that the Centaur Hills be re-taxed.

The problem was, the York family didn’t have to pay the annual tribute tax!

The York family guarded the Centaur Hills, serving as Gambis’s shield against the Ant-man tide. The Royal Family had exempted the Centaur Hills from the annual tribute tax for twenty years, while the Church had waived the tithe for three years as support for post-disaster reconstruction.

A full four years had passed since the end of the Ant-man plague. The York family had begun to pay the tithe, but they still had sixteen years of exemption from the annual tribute tax.

In other words, Aerie Fortress’s new tax proposal was aimed solely at the House of Randell.

Viscount Ternis was on excellent terms with Victor. The coffee supplied by the House of Randell to Blinor City was exclusively sold by Ternis, and the two shared deep financial ties.

To clear his path, Grand Duke Williams was imposing a new tax on the Randell Fief. He first instructed Viscount Fisher to draft the new tax plan, allowing him to replace Ternis as the Royal Capital’s tax collector.

However, the twenty-percent share for the kingdom’s annual tribute tax would not change. Although it pained Victor, from the Gambis Royal Family’s perspective, how much more annual tribute could a single Randell Fief provide?

Williams had just handed over millions of Sophia’s hidden gold. Would he really go to the trouble of slapping Victor in the face over such a small sum?

Of course, he had still left some room for maneuver.

Ternis, as a partner of the House of Randell, wasn’t completely crushed by Aerie Fortress. On the contrary, he was promoted to Chief Scribe of the Ministry of Internal Affairs and married a female Knight from the Ludwig family. Regardless of whether it was a promotion in name only or if he would be sleeping on the floor in the future, he at least had a splendid reputation on the surface. Absolutely no one would dare to kick Viscount Ternis Ludwig while he was down.

Most importantly, Ternis could continue to maintain his cooperative relationship with Viscount Randell. Through his channel, Aerie Fortress could conduct informal communication and probes with the House of Randell.

Like the current situation, for instance.

What exactly was Williams trying to achieve by going to all this trouble?

Victor pondered for a moment and said with a self-deprecating laugh, “I didn’t expect the Regent’s first sword to be pointed at me.”

“You can’t quite put it that way,” Ternis said with a smile. “Many lords are now starting to build stream reservoirs, open up terraced fields, and raise pigs for manure… especially your neighbors, the Briatte and Chepman families. The scale of their New Agro-husbandry and pig farming is in no way inferior to the other lords in the Centaur Hills. After all, their fiefs were also cleansed by the Ant-man tide.”

Victor was silent for a moment, then said, “But they still have a three-year tax exemption period.”

“The collection of the new tax is the trend for the kingdom… The House of Randell will likely have to set an example.”

“Is that so…” Victor turned his head and waved at Caligula.

Caligula, looking like a barbarian, trotted over gleefully, immediately squeezing Ternis’s cavalry guards to the side of the road. The roads in the inner city of the Royal Capital were relatively narrow, and to maintain formation, they could only fall in behind the carriage. Narsen’s Swiftbird light cavalry naturally kept them separated by a certain distance.

“Aka, are you tired from running?” Victor asked amiably.

“Not tired.” Caligula shook his large head vigorously, the fat on his cheeks jiggling.

“Then keep up.”

“Oh.”

Victor turned his head back and asked in a low voice, “My friend, do you know the contents of the new tax proposal?”

“I’ve read it… The specific implementation methods have not yet been finalized.” Ternis leaned over and whispered, “However, in the future, it might be collected quarterly, with tax collectors permanently stationed in the major capital cities… not Laketon, but including Wildwillow City.”

“Wildwillow City? It’s just a town in a viscounty…” Victor frowned.

“Who still considers Wildwillow City a mere viscounty town?” Ternis gave a silent laugh, then added, “That fellow Fisher also wants to imitate Laketon’s transaction tax and levy a trade tax in Wildwillow City.”

Victor’s face was as dark as water. He said angrily, “Damn it! Wildwillow City is a low-tax free trade city. Does Fisher want to ruin it? The surrounding noble families will never agree! Besides, the goods the lords trade in Wildwillow City have already had their annual tribute paid. On what grounds can the kingdom levy a trade tax?”

“Don’t get excited, my friend,” Ternis said. “Wildwillow City is too alluring. Its trade covers the Centaur Hills, the south-central lords, the southern lords, and even a small portion of lords from the eastern territories. Yet, the western, central, and northern counties are conspicuously absent. Let’s not even mention the Nim family in the west, but the central and northern territories belong to the royal family. You have to admit, Wildwillow City has stolen business from the Four-Leaf Clover Trading Company. And did you know that while the Four-Leaf Clover Trading Company follows Marquess Sophia’s orders, half of its profits must be handed over to Her Majesty the Queen? And Her Majesty has already transferred the personnel she had placed in the Four-Leaf Clover Trading Company to the Regent.”

“It’s true the trade goods in Wildwillow City have had their annual tribute paid… For example, Marquess Sophia had the Four-Leaf Clover Trading Company buy out the charcoal from around the Gloomy Forest and then lease a charcoal yard in Wildwillow City. Twenty percent of that charcoal belongs to the kingdom, but what use does His Highness the Regent have for charcoal? Marquess Sophia also set the price of charcoal exceptionally low, with extremely meager profits. Do you think His Highness the Regent is going to sit by and watch you profit from this?”

Victor had already conveyed his “anger.” He now nodded with a placid expression.

Williams was definitely going to push the new tax, and there would certainly be difficulties.

Victor himself felt the sting of paying taxes; that penny-pincher Earl Chepman would be hopping mad. Aerie Fortress levying a trade tax on Wildwillow City would affect everyone’s interests. If they all united to resist, even Williams wouldn’t be able to withstand it.

But if he couldn’t even solve a problem like this, what right did Williams have to be Regent?

Therefore, the trade tax on Wildwillow City was just a feint. Aerie Fortress’s real target was Raven Town.

Raven Town had barbarians, did business with the lords of Dodor, and even profited from the Glory Knights and the Temple Army. Of course Aerie Fortress would want to plant a nail in Raven Town.

The kingdom’s spies ultimately had to operate in the shadows and were especially easy for other powers to root out. Tax collectors were different. Not only could they provide cover for Aerie Fortress’s eyes, ears, and henchmen, but they could also monitor the flow of goods between the Centaur Hills and Dodor.

Williams was looking at the bigger picture for the kingdom’s benefit. He would make a concession on Wildwillow City, the nail in Raven Town would be planted, the Regent’s prestige would be preserved, he would have a breakthrough for implementing the new tax, and he could even do a huge favor for the Chepman family. The other lords, enjoying the show, wouldn’t say a single word to help Victor.

It truly was a brilliant plan of “divide and conquer,” killing four birds with one stone!

Victor couldn’t help but applaud Williams’s strategic mind, yet he had thought of Raven Town immediately because he was already prepared for this.

Since Raven Town had opened its doors for business, it had to welcome all sorts of people. If Victor lacked even this much magnanimity, was he fit to be a lord?

The kingdom’s eyes and ears would either be in Raven Town or the Randell Fief. Victor’s core secrets were the Alchemy Tower and The Golden Company.

As for Raven Town, Victor had considered using that enclave as bait when he was building the Two-headed Lizard Trading Company. The lords of the York family would naturally be kept busy dealing with the various powers in Raven Town.

Victor didn’t think his own intelligence was anything extraordinary. He adhered to the principle that a clumsy bird has to start flying early, laying out his plans in advance and waiting for others to step into them, which allowed him to seize the initiative.

However, he had to put on a full performance. He had to make some noise when necessary, and demand the benefits he was due… You feign an attack to make a strategic retreat, so I will feign a retreat to advance… I… what conditions should I demand?

Victor’s mind was a complete blank, but the wheels of the carriage continued to roll.

The Blue Amber Inn was just ahead.

Chapter 408: Reunion

Blinor City was divided into inner and outer districts.

Aerie Fortress and the residences of the great nobles were concentrated in the inner district, where every inch of land was worth its weight in gold. The residents of the outer district were mainly the capital’s lesser nobles and the families of the Imperial Guard. The outer district was more than ten times the size of the inner one and contained the Nobles’ District, the Vassal District, shops, warehouses, workshops, and the city’s farmland.

The Blue Amber Inn was built in an orchard on this farmland.

It consisted of seven stone buildings and a few wooden houses, surrounded on all sides by crocodile date trees laden with fruit. It looked more like a manor, but the environment was quiet and secluded, the air was fresh, and it had the unique charm of a woodland garden.

“Very nice.” Victor stepped down from the carriage, took a deep breath, and turned with a smile. “I didn’t expect you to have such a large orchard in the Royal Capital.”

Tenis stood shoulder to shoulder with Victor, surveying the surroundings with no small amount of pride. “This place originally belonged to Baron Jon of the Leopold family. He lost the lease to the orchard to me in a card game… Of course, the only reason I could join their circle was thanks to the coffee and Snow Sugar from the Randell Fief.”

“And the candied fruit and other goods…” Victor smiled, then added, “Most importantly, you have a shrewd and capable caravan steward.”

“Marcel is indeed very capable. He’s earned me a great deal of money… The Blue Amber Inn was his idea as well.”

“Oh? Is there something special about it?” Victor asked with keen interest.

“Blinor City is large, but it’s also crowded. When nobles come to the Royal Capital, they often have to lodge with relatives or friends, while their attendants stay in inns in the outer district. The nobles find it very inconvenient to be without their servants. But if an inn’s rooms are full, the servants can only stay in the stables or a warehouse, which is utterly humiliating.” Tenis shrugged. “This happens frequently, especially during the third month of the Season of Earth, when the vassal lords have to come to the Royal Capital to report on their duties, and in situations like the present one.”

With his left hand behind his back, Tenis gestured with his right toward the inn’s buildings. “I converted the orchard-manor into an inn. Each floor has twelve rooms, for a single noble and his servants to use exclusively. There are seven four-story stone buildings here, so we can host twenty-eight honored guests at the same time. Although the Blue Amber is a bit remote, it’s quiet enough, comfortable, and spacious. Plus, the guests are all people of status and dignity. The vassal lords are very satisfied with this place.”

“You only host vassal lords?” Victor asked.

Tenis nodded. “Under normal circumstances, yes.”

Victor stopped and took in the layout, frowning. “Prices in the Royal Capital are not cheap. Building the Blue Amber must have cost you a lot of Gold Sols. If you only host vassal lords, you’d surely lose money every year. After all, they’re only here to report for one month.”

“I didn’t plan on making money with the Blue Amber at first.” Tenis gave a mysterious smile and lowered his voice. “Everyone knows that Viscount Tenis is the only one in the entire Royal Capital who sells coffee and Snow Sugar, but what they don’t know is that my annual coffee quota isn’t two hundred pounds, but five hundred. I can’t sell the extra to the capital’s nobles, but the vassal lords don’t care how much coffee I sell in the capital. As long as they stay at the Blue Amber, they can buy coffee and Snow Sugar. Even though they only stay for a month, my annual profit from selling coffee exceeds six thousand Gold Sols.”

“Later, some vassal lords proposed long-term rentals. They paid two years’ rent at once and even sent people to manage the rooms as their temporary residences in the Royal Capital.” Tenis spread his hands. “Not only did the Blue Amber not lose money, but it actually became profitable. That was unexpected. However, those nobles in the capital who held leases to city manors also began to imitate the Blue Amber, building their own manor-inns. But they don’t have coffee. And in order to sell coffee to more vassal lords, I built two more stone buildings to accommodate guests without long-term rentals. Now, the Blue Amber is famous. Baron and Lady Chatain are staying in that building up ahead. I saved the best floor for them, out of consideration for you.”

Victor nodded and smiled. “My friend, I appreciate the gesture… In any case, I must thank you.”

“It’s what a friend should do,” Tenis said politely.

In the beginning, when Tenis managed the Randell Fief’s coffee business, he had been losing money, not making it, after the layers of exploitation from his overlords and the social obligations among the capital’s nobles. A tax collector’s annual stipend in the Royal Capital was a paltry one thousand Gold Sols. To control a resource like coffee, Tenis could only grit his teeth and persevere.

Victor, wanting to break into Blinor City’s Black Market, had persuaded the tax collector to profit from smuggling coffee and suggested he select men from among the freemen merchants to form his own caravan for smuggling coffee and Snow Sugar.

The man Tenis chose, Marcel, was indeed a talent. He believed that a noble beverage like coffee couldn’t be sold in the shops of freemen, and the Blue Amber Inn cleverly disguised the volume of coffee being sold.

Viscount Tenis lined his pockets and trusted Marcel implicitly. But he didn’t know that Victor was also using Marcel’s caravan to extend his reach into Blinor City’s Black Market.

As the saying goes, one lives off the mountain if one lives by the mountain, and off the water if one lives by the water. The caravan’s crew naturally had ways to make extra money. By fudging the numbers for cargo lost in transit or for greasing palms along the route, they could secretly pocket a portion of the goods. Though the amount from each was small, when every caravan skimmed a little, the total volume of goods flowing into the freemen’s Black Market became quite substantial.

With so many different goods mixed together, it was difficult even for the kingdom’s spies to untangle the connections.

Having secured the backing of a noble from the Royal Capital, Marcel thrived in Blinor’s freemen market. Moreover, Tenis only cared about results, not the process. To keep his master satisfied, Marcel not only had to support a crew of men but also had opportunities to skim off the top. When Marcel went to Wildwillow City to pick up goods, he naturally had to get to know some black-market merchants. And so, the local Thieves’ Guild astutely recommended to him a black-market dealer who specialized in distributing goods in Blinor.

This black-market dealer handled raw sugar, candied fruit, mountain goods, bristle brushes, cured meat, sausages, oilcloth… all products that Marcel could procure in Wildwillow City. The two hit it off immediately, and their connection became fiery hot. Following the rules of the freemen’s Black Market, the dealer was responsible for acquiring and supplying goods, while Marcel provided cover for their distribution. Their business grew larger and larger, and they soon carved out a niche for themselves in the freemen’s district outside Blinor City.

In reality, that black-market dealer was one of Weyrich’s subordinates in the Golden Company. The black goods he dealt in weren’t skimmed from caravans but came from the industrial chain Victor had painstakingly built.

The Golden Company’s smuggling caravans would transport light materials to the mountain folk strongholds, where they were processed into goods. Then, through the channels of freemen merchants, they flowed into the black markets of the towns. The Golden Company currently controlled over a hundred black-market dealers, with a sales network spanning the capital cities of the eastern, central, south-central, southern, and western regions of Gambia, and was even expanding into Naville and the Dodor Kingdom.

Among them, Blinor City had the largest sales volume, surpassing all other cities.

On one hand, the number of freemen dependent on Blinor City exceeded one hundred fifty thousand, representing enormous market potential. The Golden Company’s black-market dealers had already figured out the ropes and established a firm foothold in Blinor City.

On the other hand, it benefited from the Kingdom of Gambia’s population optimization.

The Centaur Hills continuously recruited laborers, while the lords in the kingdom’s western, south-central, and southern regions were undertaking infrastructure projects with green bricks, providing many jobs. Blinor City funneled its surplus population to the kingdom’s western and south-central regions. As the total number of refugees in the Royal Capital decreased, the work for refugee families became more stable, their incomes rose, their savings grew, and their spending power naturally increased significantly.

Last year, the Golden Company’s total sales in Blinor City amounted to three thousand Gold Sols. In the first half of this year, it had already exceeded four thousand Gold Sols, and the projected total for the year was no less than seven thousand. And it would only increase in the future.

If one were to look at the whole of Gambia, the wealth in the pockets of the refugees would absolutely make the jaws of the lords drop to the floor.

Victor vaguely remembered a story from his past life about buying bananas first, then selling shoes. He was doing the exact same thing.

While Tenis was preening over his annual profit of a few thousand Gold Sols, Victor was laying the groundwork for his scheme long before anyone else could react.

“Reno, you few stay outside with Aka and look after the Swiftbirds. Narsen, Gru, Shak, you’re with me.” Victor turned and gave his orders, then stepped into the Blue Amber Inn.

Narsen took a quick step forward and asked in a low voice, “My lord, what sort of etiquette should we observe when meeting your parents?”

Tenis, standing beside them, chuckled softly. “Your Lordship, you are Viscount Randell’s vassals, not the subordinates of Baron and Lady Chatain… A nod of the head would be very appropriate for your station.”

“I understand,” Narsen said, enlightened. He fell silent, following Victor and Tenis up to the inn’s second floor.

Baron Chatain’s family was well-prepared for Victor’s visit. A steward with graying hair, dressed in a crisp suit, stood ramrod-straight at the end of the corridor. When he saw Viscount Tenis accompanying a noble whose face was hidden by a hood, his expression became a mixture of excitement and helplessness. He asked in a trembling voice, “Young Master Victor, is that you?”

Victor removed his hood, revealing a handsome face. He smiled and said, “Steward Joris, it’s me.” He placed a hand on the steward’s shoulder and sighed. “It’s been over a decade. You’ve gotten old, too.”

After Laelia Berens married Baron Chatain, she had arranged for her steward, Joris, to personally oversee little Victor’s daily life. When the little Baron woke from nightmares, Joris was always the first to appear by his side. The two were very close. When the little Baron left home, he had clung to the steward, unwilling to let go, and Joris, too, had been overcome with tears.

“Young Master Victor, I thought I’d never see you again in this lifetime… I thank the Supreme Lord for His mercy, for allowing me to see you again.” Joris fought back a sob, wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes, and bowed. “Lord Ludwig, my sincerest apologies. I was too emotional. Please forgive my lack of decorum.”

“I am only moved, not in the least offended,” Tenis said with a nod and a smile.

“Where are my parents?” Victor took off his cloak and handed it to the attendant beside the steward.

“The Baron and My Lady are waiting for you in the parlor,” Joris said, taking the young master’s cloak from the attendant and leading the way.

The parlor of the Blue Amber was lavishly yet elegantly decorated, befitting the status of nobles. As Victor walked through the door, he saw Baron Chatain and Lady Laelia, as well as a graceful, elegant young woman and a little boy with black hair and black eyes. The girl must be his sister whom he had never met, Percy Wimbledon, and the little boy was likely another of his half-brothers.

Baron Chatain was impeccably dressed, his salt-and-pepper hair combed flawlessly. He sat in the host’s seat, his expression stern. His hands were clenched into fists, and his gaze upon Victor was complex—a little nervous, somewhat excited, yet holding a hint of imperceptible fear. Clearly, his inner turmoil was not as calm as his appearance suggested.

“My dear Victor, my child, I am so very happy to see you.”

Lady Laelia had a head of auburn hair. Though she was over forty, as a female apprentice knight, her figure was tall and well-proportioned, her skin fair, and her features beautiful. She looked like a mature woman in her early thirties. She stepped forward, her eyes glistening with tears, her full lips trembling slightly as she reached out a slender hand, wanting to caress Victor’s face.

The little Baron had lost his mother at a young age, and his father and older brother had deliberately distanced themselves from him. But Laelia had taken on the role of a mother, being both gentle and strict with him. One could say she treated him as her own son, but in the end, she had still handed him over to the Auguste family.

By the moral standards of Earth, parents who sold their children would certainly be condemned by law and public opinion. But in this world, Bloodline was held above kinship, and the grace of being raised was greater than the grace of birth. The system of social values constructed by the knights helped the great noble families constantly gather strong Bloodlines, while the lesser nobles found it difficult to retain their outstanding offspring. Otherwise, the human kingdoms would be plunged into endless internal strife.

It was a fact that Baron and Lady Chatain had sold the little Baron, but the emotions they showed were genuine, and they felt not the slightest guilt for their past actions. What they did was perfectly in keeping with noble tradition.

Victor was not one to hold a grudge against the Chatains for his past. He allowed Laelia to touch his cheek and lowered his head with a smile. “Mother, I am also very happy to see you.” He then looked up at the Baron and greeted him, “Father, are you well?”

Baron Chatain let out a silent sigh of relief; he had been worried that Victor would embarrass him. “Victor… you’ve grown up.” The Baron cleared his throat, which was hoarse and thick, massaged his face, and secretly rubbed his sore eyes. Then he stood and bowed. “Your Excellency Ludwig, forgive me for not coming out to greet you. Please, make yourself at home.”

“It is I who have been presumptuous in coming,” Tenis said, returning the courtesy with elegance. “I’ve brought a bottle of thirty-year-old Dumu wine to join this impromptu gathering.”

He didn’t use the words “family gathering,” but everyone felt it was a matter of course.

Lady Laelia took Victor’s hand and said with a lovely smile, “Lord Viscount Ludwig, you are too kind. I’ll go arrange for some refreshments and glasses… Victor, you sit down as well.” With that, she left the parlor.

A short time later, Laelia returned leading several handmaidens, who placed pastries, candied fruit, fruit, and venison jerky on the table one by one. Steward Joris uncorked the bottle and poured a glass of Dumu wine for everyone.

“Let us drink this cup, to today’s reunion,” Baron Chatain said, raising his glass.

“To today’s reunion,” everyone echoed, raising their glasses and draining them in one go.

Chapter 409: Options

The mellow Dumu wine went down, and the slightly stiff atmosphere relaxed.

Baron Chatain set down his wine cup, beckoned to the girl and the boy, and said with a beaming face, “Victor, let me introduce you. This is your sister, Percy Wimbledon, and this is your brother, Corbin Wimbledon. By the ancestors’ blessing, he has black hair and black eyes, just like you. Though Corbin is only seven, he has naturally awakened his Aura.”

Laelia then said to the children, “This is Viscount Victor W. Randell, the Lord of Gambis, and also your brother. His existence is a testament to the ancient and noble bloodline of the Wimbledon family. You should be proud of your brother.”

“Good day, Viscount Randell.” Percy curtsied, leading her brother in a bow to Victor.

“No need for such formality.” Victor nodded with a smile. “You can call me Brother, or Victor.”

“Brother… everyone says you’re a Moon Elf,” Percy said softly, her little face blushing.

“I am.” Victor gave a gentle smile. “The Wimbledons carry the blood of the Moon Elves, but we are human, and the source of the Gale Knights.”

“Brother Victor, is he your Knight?” Corbin asked, pointing at Narsen, his eyes sparkling.

“This is my vassal, Lord Narsen Randell,” Victor introduced him to his parents.

“Lord Narsen, we’ve heard of your renown. You once fought the Sassans in the north and slew a Sassan knight, earning the title ‘Bear of the Northlands.’ You also cut down a knight from a rival family in the Randell Fief. Your Excellency, thank you for all you have done for Victor,” Baron Chatain said, raising his cup in a toast.

“So you really are the great Bear of the Northlands! My uncle told me you’re the most famous Silver-rank Ferocious warrior today,” Corbin chimed in, his face full of hero worship.

Narsen awkwardly set down his cup. Laelia gently chided her son, “Corbin, mind your manners!”

“Mother, don’t blame Corbin. The first time I heard of Narsen’s deeds, I was quite taken aback myself.” Victor waved his hand dismissively, then said gently to the young boy, “Narsen is not the most famous Ferocious warrior, but he is a disciple of Lord Tournans, the leader of the Templars.”

Ternis glanced at Narsen in surprise and raised his cup. “Lord Narsen, my apologies for the lack of respect.” After taking a sip, he explained to Baron and Lady Chatain, “Lord Tournans is the Chief of His Holiness the Pontiff’s Personal Guard, the Church’s First Sacred Warrior, and a legendary powerhouse of our time.”

Baron and Lady Chatain were utterly shocked. The Pope was an existence they could only look up to but never reach, and the circle of legendary powerhouses was even more distant. Narsen’s tutor was a living legend, yet Narsen himself was Victor’s vassal.

Although the Baron and his wife knew Victor was now a top-tier great noble, the reality far exceeded their imagination.

Laelia was the first to recover. She turned and instructed, “Children, it is time for you to leave.”

“No, Mama, I still want to ask Lord Narsen about combat techniques,” Corbin protested loudly.

“It is not proper to disturb our honored guest’s leisure.” Laelia shook her head firmly, then commanded, “Steward Joris, please take the young miss and young master downstairs.”

Chatain’s lips moved. He had hoped his spectacularly successful second son might give Corbin a leg up, but in the end, he said nothing.

“Narsen, please take Corbin as your disciple and teach him the Spirit Monkey combat technique,” Victor ordered.

“As you wish, My lord.” Narsen stood up and followed Steward Joris out the door.

“Victor, this is… a bit much,” Chatain said, his expression complicated.

“Father, I recall that you are required to train eighty archers for the kingdom every five years. The Spirit Monkey combat technique that Narsen created is extremely well-suited for training archers. It even earned the praise of Lord Tournans… Just consider it my contribution to the family,” Victor said with a calm and nonchalant air.

“Victor, thank you so much,” Laelia said, her smile like a blooming flower. Just being connected to a legendary powerhouse was more than she could have hoped for, and the Spirit Monkey combat technique was clearly a rare and secret art.

Laelia had worried endlessly about her small family. Since a small treasure dropped from between Victor’s fingers was a priceless gem to a minor family, she had no reason to refuse her son’s goodwill.

Victor smiled and asked casually, “Where is my brother, Mario?”

“Mario married my brother’s daughter and joined the Berens family. With a letter of recommendation from Earl Berens, he was selected by the Swift Dragon Knights and became a Swift Dragon Knight. He’s currently occupied with official duties, and your arrival was so sudden that we haven’t had a chance to contact him,” Laelia said apologetically, though there was a trace of unnatural nervousness in her eyes.

Mario and Victor were full-blooded brothers. After the younger Victor was taken away by Catherine, Mario used a cleansing potion rewarded by the Auguste family to awaken his knight’s bloodline and become an apprentice knight. He was originally supposed to inherit Chatain’s fief, but he had instead joined the Berens family and become a Swift Dragon Knight. With both of Chatain’s sons from his first wife gone from home, his title could only be inherited by Laelia’s children.

Victor was certain this was not Laelia’s doing but the work of the Royal Family. Baron and Lady Chatain could not resist the will of Aerie Fortress; they likely did not even know the reasons behind it.

So long as the House of Randell had no other heir, Mario was a valuable card to hold. Whatever their reasoning, Aerie Fortress could not allow Mario to fall into the hands of the York family.

Of course, Victor held no resentment towards Lady Laelia for this. In fact, the main purpose of his visit was the Berens family behind her.

The Golden Company had not yet set foot in the north of Gambis. Baron Chatain’s fief was only two hundred square kilometers, remote, mountainous with little arable land, its soil barren and population sparse. There was little value in taking it. But Kyle County, controlled by the Berens family, bordered the southwestern frontier of the Kingdom of Naville. If the Golden Company could open a smuggling channel there, it could revitalize the entire north.

Although Laelia’s standing within the Berens family was not high, she had raised Viscount Randell. Victor had every reason to elevate his parents’ minor family, thereby increasing Laelia’s influence within the Berens family. Once Laelia reached that position, the rest would be easy.

Victor took a sip of Dumu wine, steering clear of sensitive and unpleasant topics, and turned the conversation to other matters.

They spoke of their respective experiences, amusing anecdotes about the great nobles, the scenery and produce of the Centaur Hills, the terror of the Ant-man tide, the prosperity of Wildwillow City, and the thriving Randell Fief.

Baron and Lady Chatain had long heard of Victor’s exploits, but to hear them from their son’s own lips was another experience entirely, filling them with both emotion and pride. Under Victor’s subtle guidance, the atmosphere of the chat gradually shifted to that of a successful child showing concern for his parents, and the topic naturally drifted towards fief governance.

“Mountainous terrain is especially suitable for building stream reservoirs. A single stream reservoir might not irrigate a vast amount of mountain farmland, but its impact is profound. With a stable water source, you can settle refugees, establish fortified villages or outposts, expand your actual sphere of control, and shrink the living space of wild beasts and monsters. In the long run, the fief is bound to prosper. Of course, the initial investment is certainly large, but you can recoup the costs by simply using the resources around the reservoir to raise wild boars,” Victor asked with concern, “Father, nowadays any lord with the means is building stream reservoirs. Have you and Mother considered it?”

Baron Chatain shook his head. “A vassal lord’s fief is different from your Randell Fief. The kingdom has its own plans for water projects in the northern counties. The Earl must follow the Ministry of Internal Affairs’ proposal and make corresponding arrangements for Kyle County’s water projects. We just have to wait patiently.”

Victor immediately turned his head and said jokingly, “Chief Scribe, is my parents’ fief included in the kingdom’s water project plan?”

Ternis gave a wry smile. “That place is a bit remote… It’s true, there are no plans for it.”

The Baron and his wife’s expressions grew a little grim. Victor asked, displeased, “Then my parents can build one themselves?”

“Of course, that is within a vassal lord’s authority.” Ternis nodded quickly, adding after a thought, “If they build it themselves and it proves effective, I will apply for a commendation from the Ministry of Internal Affairs on the Baron’s behalf.”

Victor broke into a smile. “Father, Mother, since the Chief Scribe has made things clear, you can proceed with developing the fief without worry. I imagine Corbin will inherit the family estate one day. A stream reservoir represents a new village, and a village can support the recruitment of an apprentice knight for Corbin. However, the number of apprentice knights is limited, so the sooner this is done, the better!”

Chatain and his wife exchanged a look, both falling into silent contemplation.

Victor’s eyes flickered for a moment before he pressed on, “Is there some difficulty? A lack of funds?”

“That’s not it.” Lady Laelia hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “After I return, I will find a way to ask your uncle to plead our case before My lord Earl Berens and try to win his support.”

“Why would Earl Berens give you trouble?” Victor set down his cup, his eyelids lowered, his handsome face revealing an intimidating majesty. “You are my parents. Although I have no dealings with Earl Berens, I should think he would grant me this small courtesy.”

Laelia looked to her husband for help. Baron Chatain cleared his throat and waved his hand. “Victor, from the day you entered Aerie Fortress, you have been a great and noble person. However, those at the bottom have their own rules for survival. While you could certainly get Earl Berens to give you some face, we must still respect the Earl’s authority.”

“The Lord Baron speaks the truth,” Ternis chimed in with a nod. “Beneath the Earl of Kyle County are many other officials and vassal lords. They will only be jealous of the Wimbledon family’s achievements and use all sorts of tricks to obstruct the development of the Baron’s fief.”

“Victor, of course I want to build stream reservoirs and be the first to recruit apprentice knights. But we don’t have the scholars and craftsmen for construction, we don’t have enough hired labor, we don’t have sufficient grain… All of this not only requires the Earl’s full support, but also for us to grease palms up and down the ladder,” Lady Laelia said with a sigh, her brow furrowed.

“One step behind, always behind!”

Victor’s face was grim. He rose and paced to the window, watching his sister and brother practicing their stance work under Narsen’s guidance. His voice softened. “I can send over a group of craftsmen, but I cannot meddle in the internal affairs of a vassal’s fief, nor can I let you make enemies everywhere in Kyle County… Hmm, we need to find a sufficient reason for the Earl.” He turned to Ternis with a smile. “How about this: my father’s fief is often troubled by wildfires. Chief Scribe, would you be so kind as to issue a document suggesting the trial construction of a stream reservoir in the Baron’s fief to serve as a firebreak?”

“My friend, my own dignity is on the line here. You wouldn’t refuse me, would you?”

“Since you’ve put it that way…” Ternis shook his head with a helpless laugh and raised his cup. “As you wish, my Lord Randell.” He drained his cup of Dumu wine, then his tone shifted. “There will be no problem on my end. I can even apply for some funding for the Baron. However, Lord Baron will still have to find a way to source the labor and grain himself.”

“Victor, it would be better for us to go through the normal channels,” Baron Chatain said, seizing the opportunity to back out. Caught between a powerful great noble and a host of messy colleagues and rivals, he was feeling immense pressure.

“Leaders make the rules, and their subordinates follow them. Those who break the rules are either shattered to pieces or rise above the rest.” Victor glanced at him and said coolly, “With me here, what are you afraid of?”

Victor walked back to the table and picked up his wine cup. “Besides the officials in Kyle County, there is also the Church. If the Church is willing to step in, labor and grain are not a problem. His Holiness the Pope greatly praised the Randell Fief’s public carriages, but unfortunately, most lords have no interest in them. If you promote public carriages in your fief, I guarantee the Church will support you.”

“But… the public carriages will operate at a constant loss…”

“How much money can a two hundred-square-kilometer fief lose? I have public carriages running throughout my own fief of over thirteen thousand square-kilometers!” Victor scoffed. “As long as the fief prospers, freemen merchants will be more than happy to take over the public carriages. All you need to do is ensure they keep them running.”

“Right now, the lords are banding together to boycott public carriages… In truth, you’re worried about offending the officials and vassal lords of Kyle County. But only by doing this will the Church be willing to give you its full support.” Victor sighed. “Father, Mother, you can only choose one side: Kyle County or the Church. I might as well tell you, it is all but certain that Bishop Saen will take over as the kingdom’s Cardinal. I have some rapport with him. If you make up your minds, I can go speak with Bishop Saen on your behalf.”

Laelia was clearly more decisive than her husband. She said resolutely, “Fine! We’ll listen to you.”

Send the craftsmen over, send the freemen merchants who run the public carriages over, and the Golden Company will have a foothold in the north. Victor’s mood lightened considerably. He raised his cup. “May the family of my father and mother prosper from this day forward.”

“Victor, thank you. We are proud of you,” Lady Laelia said, also raising her cup.

Just then, Steward Joris knocked and entered, bowing deeply. “My lord, My Lady, Master Benjamin requests an audience.”

Chapter 410: Uninvited Guests

“Master Benjamin is here?”

Lady Laelia shot to her feet, a pleasant surprise on her face. “Show him in at once… No, no, I’ll go greet the Master myself.”

“Please excuse me for a moment.” Lady Laelia flashed an apologetic smile at Victor and Ternis, then hurried out of the living room, the clicking of her high heels echoing on the floor.

As the sound of heels faded into the distance, Baron Chatain set down his silver goblet and leaned back in his chair, sighing with a shake of his head. “Ah, women. They can never resist the temptation of jewelry.” He put on an expression that said, all men understand, though he spoke even more quietly than before.

If you’re scared of your wife, just admit it. Why pretend to be the head of the household… Victor scornfully disparaged this convenient father of his in his mind.

Ternis, however, nodded in profound agreement. “My wife waited a full month for Master Benjamin just to have a set of jewelry custom-made. When the master paid a visit, she was just as… delighted.”

Master Benjamin was the most preeminent painter, sculptor, and jewelry designer of the age. The jewelry carving method he pioneered integrated the essence of multiple carving techniques and gemstone cutting, allowing his creations to perfectly complement the wearer’s temperament with a profound depth that was unforgettable.

By virtue of his exquisite skills, Master Benjamin, who hailed from a common vassal family, had won the favor of the Gambis Royal Family. He was granted a lordship and became the Chief Royal Jeweler of the court.

Not only did Queen Catherine and Princess Royal Roland favor jewelry designed by Master Benjamin, but even Marquess Golan’s shield-shaped brooch and Sylvia’s rose coronet were among his classic works.

The nobles and lords of the Royal Capital of Gambis considered it an honor to invite Master Benjamin to custom-design jewelry for them. But since it took him at least three months to create a single set of jewelry, he could only politely decline the enthusiastic invitations of most nobles.

This, in turn, only made Master Benjamin more sought-after.

Although Master Benjamin lacked the time to fulfill everyone’s custom orders, the lesser nobles still flocked to him. Whenever they acquired a high-quality, rare raw gemstone, they would write Master Benjamin a passionate letter of invitation, attaching a document from a gemstone appraiser, hoping that the master would have a sudden artistic itch and carve a piece of heirloom jewelry for them.

The price of raw gemstones was only moderately higher than that of metal ores, but after being carved by Master Benjamin, their value would skyrocket a hundredfold, even a thousandfold.

If Baron Chatain’s family possessed such a valuable piece of jewelry, they could show it off when things were fine, use it for currying favor when in trouble, and even sell it for cash if they fell on hard times.

This was far more interesting and elegant than building reservoirs and raising wild boars. No wonder Lady Laelia looked as if she’d been hit on the head by a pie from heaven when she heard Master Benjamin was paying a visit.

However, Baron Chatain ranked near the bottom among the nobles of the Royal Capital. With their status and prestige, they simply couldn’t get Master Benjamin to come… I just arrived to visit my parents, and Aerie Fortress’s jewelry master shows up right after. Isn’t that too much of a coincidence? Mario becomes a Swift Dragon Knight, and now the royal court’s jeweler comes to design jewelry for the Chatain family right in front of me… I’d like to see just what the Royal Family is planning.

Suspicion grew in Victor’s heart, but he remained outwardly composed. He leaned back against the soft sofa and chatted idly with Ternis and Baron Chatain.

Before long, Laelia returned to the living room with a well-dressed, hale and hearty old man. She smiled at Viscount Tenis and said, “Your Excellency Ludwig, Master Benjamin is here to see you.”

Though Lady Laelia’s smile was warm, Victor noticed an imperceptible trace of disappointment in her eyes.

Ternis was taken aback for a moment, then quickly stood up. “Master Benjamin, how can I be of service?”

“My apologies for disturbing your pleasant gathering, my lords. I do indeed have a matter I need to trouble Lord Ludwig with.” Master Benjamin bowed slightly, his gaze shifting to the side. He said in surprise, “Victor… no, Lord Randell, you are here as well?”

Master Benjamin and Victor had known each other for a long time. He had once taught the little Baron painting and sculpture in Aerie Fortress. When Victor and Sophia were married, he had even designed their jewelry.

Victor had once used a ring designed by Master Benjamin to swindle fifty thousand Gold Sols of start-up capital from Sylvia. He had been quite smug about it. Only much later did Victor understand that in Sylvia’s eyes at the time, his entire being belonged to her. This was even truer now.

Today, that ring was the only one Sylvia ever wore.

Remembering his past immaturity and his affection for Sylvia, Victor couldn’t help but smile. He stood up and greeted him, “Tutor Benjamin, it has been a long time. Baron Chatain and my lady are my parents.”

“My apologies for the impertinence,” Master Benjamin said, nodding to his hosts. “It seems I have interrupted your gathering.”

“Master, you are too kind. We were just chatting,” Baron Chatain said with a smile, extending an invitation. “Why don’t you join us for a drink… This is a fine vintage brought by Lord Ludwig.”

“A thirty-year-aged Dumu wine… In that case, I won’t be polite,” Master Benjamin said with a smile, gently sniffing the air in the room.

Lady Laelia poured Master Benjamin a glass of Dumu wine. Only after he raised his glass and took a sip did Viscount Tenis ask, “Master, is there something you needed to see me about in person? If it’s inconvenient, I can take my leave of our hosts first.”

“It’s not inconvenient at all,” Master Benjamin said, setting down his glass with a hearty laugh. “I wish to rent a floor in the Blue Amber Inn.”

“Do you have relatives or friends who wish to stay?”

“No! It is for my teacher,” Master Benjamin said, his smile vanishing as his expression turned serious.

“Your teacher?” Ternis looked at Master Benjamin with curiosity and surprise.

The royal jeweler was nearly seventy years old. In his youth, he had been an apprentice under an old jewelry craftsman for a time, but that old craftsman’s skills were mediocre, and he had long since passed away. Everyone had assumed Master Benjamin’s achievements were mainly due to his talent and relentless hard work; who would have thought he had a hidden teacher?

Could it be that his teacher was helping him with his jewelry designs?

Master Benjamin understood their thoughts perfectly. He explained, “My teacher knows nothing of jewelry design. He is a stonemason in the service of the Royal Family. Though his name is not widely known, I am certain he is the most outstanding master of sculpture today. I studied sculpture under my teacher for twenty-four years, and I still don’t possess half of his skill.”

A stonemason from Aerie Fortress…

The Baron and his wife, as well as Viscount Tenis, were instantly filled with respect. Victor also showed great curiosity and asked, “A person so highly praised by Master Benjamin must be a remarkable master indeed… I also lived in Aerie Fortress for a time, yet I’ve never heard of this master’s fame?”

Master Benjamin smiled. “My teacher once served as the tomb keeper of Aerie Fortress, specializing in creating statues for members of the Royal Family. Before you entered Aerie Fortress, he had already been made a Court Baron by the late King and had retired to the countryside. This time, with His Majesty Auguste’s coronation, the Household Department has specially recalled my teacher to create a statue for the new King.” He paused, then sighed, shaking his head. “My teacher is too old. This will likely be his final sculpture.”

“Master, I mean no offense.”

Viscount Tenis spoke with indignation, “How can the Household Department act so absurdly! His Majesty the King is not yet thirteen years old. What sense is there in making a statue of a boy!”

After Gold Knights and peak Silver Knights die, their bodies quickly decompose into void elements and return to the world’s origin, leaving no remains. But the vast majority of High-ranked Knights hold the conviction to protect their families, and even in death, they wish to pass on this conviction. Their devotion to their families is reflected in the importance they place on statues, which has led to a unique burial system among knightly families.

Therefore, great families commission statues of their guardian knights while they are still alive. After their death, the statues are placed in the family cemetery for future generations to admire.

Few craftsmen could use cold stone to so vividly and lifelikely express the conviction, spirit, emotions, and characteristics of a High-ranked Knight. Master Benjamin’s teacher was clearly such a person, and his importance to the Auguste family was beyond doubt.

But even if his skills were unparalleled, Edward Auguste was only twelve years old. When the young king became extraordinary and achieved immortal merits for his family, he would surely want to smash that statue of his childhood self. He couldn’t let future generations think that Edward Auguste’s life was mediocre, his only highlight being his ascension to the throne at the age of twelve.

Upholding the honor of one’s liege lord was a vassal’s duty.

Ternis rebuked the Household Department, and Baron Chatain’s face darkened, but he said nothing.

Master Benjamin, however, smiled. “That is precisely where my teacher’s extraordinary skill lies. The statue he is creating for His Majesty is of his adult self.”

“How is that possible?!” Viscount Tenis exclaimed in disbelief.

“It is because it’s impossible that it can be called extraordinary,” Master Benjamin said proudly. “My teacher has sculpted countless portraits in his life. He created three statues for the late King: one when His Majesty Ryan was twelve, one when he achieved the Silver-rank, and one when he reached the peak. In the end, His Majesty Ryan chose the adult statue my teacher sculpted when he was twelve…” As he spoke, he sighed with a mixture of longing and regret. “My teacher’s skills are alive… He says I have too many distracting thoughts and will never reach his realm in my lifetime.”

“Viscount Tenis, my teacher is used to a life of solitude. He does not wish to stay in Aerie Fortress, nor does he want to stay at my home. The Blue Amber Inn is a relatively quiet environment, and he will only stay for one night. If you have no vacant floors here, I will ask at other manor inns,” Master Benjamin said calmly. The viscount’s earlier doubt had greatly displeased the jewelry master.

“This…”

Ternis’s head suddenly throbbed. The Blue Amber Inn was indeed full, but he did not want to offend the well-connected Master Benjamin. If the master were to refuse to make jewelry for Susanna from now on, he would be in deep trouble.

Worst of all, Master Benjamin’s teacher was capable of making a statue for King Edward, which meant he was an important member of the Royal Family. If Master Benjamin were to complain a little to the eccentric old man, then the consequences would be more than he could handle.

At this thought, Ternis wished he could slap himself twice.

Victor had been listening to the heartbeats of Master Benjamin and Ternis all along, and their behavior did not seem feigned.

A Knight who had achieved unity of body and mind could control their heart rate, but Master Benjamin and Ternis were ordinary people. Since Master Benjamin’s visit was not to make jewelry for the Baron and his wife, Victor could basically confirm that his arrival was not arranged by Aerie Fortress, but a coincidence.

According to Tournans, the teacher Master Benjamin spoke of should be a craftsman who had ignited the fire of the mind.

Cook Ding Cutting an Ox, a divine skill. How could he not meet such a person?

The flame of Victor’s curiosity burned brightly, so he stood up and said, “Master, what is your teacher’s name?”

“Baron Kartol Benjamin, a surname specially used by the Royal Family to honor outstanding talents.”

Victor nodded. “Master, under these circumstances, I imagine every inn is fully booked. My parents have plenty of rooms here. Why not invite Baron Benjamin to come up for a visit? If he is satisfied, we can move to the Marquess’s estate.”

“Yes, we would be honored to be of service to Master Benjamin,” Baron Chatain said at once, his reaction quicker than his wife’s this time.

“Thank you both for your generosity. From now on, this floor of the Blue Amber will always belong to Baron and Lady Wimbledon,” Ternis quickly stated his position as well.

Master Benjamin might not care for the attentiveness of Viscount Tenis and Baron Chatain, but he could not ignore Viscount Randell’s invitation. After a moment of contemplation, he nodded. “I will go ask for my teacher’s opinion.”

“Master, I’ll go with you,” Lady Laelia said with a charming smile, catching up to Master Benjamin. Ternis also brazenly followed them down.

After a long while, Master Benjamin returned to the living room, supporting a plainly dressed, white-haired old man. Behind them followed four stout, composed-looking servants.

“Baron Wimbledon, thank you for taking in an old man like me. I will only stay for one night, and please prepare a room for my guards. There’s no need for you to move out,” the old man said with a chuckle, then turned to his servants. “Find a quiet room and settle our luggage. I’ll chat with the lords here for a bit.”

“Yes.” The four servants, who were dressed as guards, bowed slightly and left the living room with the old man’s luggage.

Baron Chatain bowed. “Baron Benjamin, your arrival is our honor. How could we let you stay in an out-of-the-way room? I have already sent someone to prepare the master bedroom.”

Mystic Warrior guards? That fits the status of a Royal Family tomb keeper… Victor mused silently. He withdrew his gaze and used his elemental vision to check the old man’s Elemental Attributes.

Physique 7, Spirit 12, Perception 5, Life 4… Hmm, he is indeed an old stonemason who has ignited the fire of the mind. I doubt he has more than fifteen years left to live.

Over on the other side, Kartol declined the kind offer from the Baron and his wife. He sat down on the sofa and sized Victor up with his cloudy old eyes, a look of great interest on his face.

“You are Viscount Victor W. Randell? I have heard Roland and Edward mention you,” the old stonemason said with a grin.

Victor nodded and smiled. “Master Benjamin, this is the first time I have met you, yet I have a very familiar feeling.”

The old stonemason just smiled, unconcerned. “That means you have a great talent for sculpture. I have many stone carvings in Aerie Fortress. They are like my children, bearing my mark. This fool Ben looked at them for twenty years and couldn’t see a thing.”

“Lord Randell is indeed very talented. He always learned sculpture and painting exceptionally quickly,” Master Benjamin said, abashed.

And just like that, a connection is made?

Ternis was filled with utter admiration for Victor. He quickly offered the Dumu wine to be of service. “My lord, would you care for a glass?”

“Thanks, but I don’t touch a drop of alcohol.” The old stonemason waved his hand, opened his mouth, and then pointed to his eyes. “I’m so old I barely have any teeth left, and my eyes can’t see clearly anymore. Only these hands are still steady. Fine wine would make me lose my last pride. Better to let me take that pride to my grave.”

Ternis put down the wine bottle, looking mortified. Victor changed the subject. “Master, when I was young, I lived in Aerie Fortress. Seeing those statues of warriors with swords during the day, I didn’t think much of it. But one night, I ran outside, and those statues seemed like real warrior guards. I was so scared I scurried back into my room. Your skill is truly impressive.”

The old stonemason nodded. “Her Highness the princess said you have elven bloodline, and a natural intuition for the arts. However, such a noble talent should not be wasted on sculpture and painting. You have a more important mission, like the knights of the Auguste family. I am merely a skilled stonemason. To be able to sculpt stone statues for noble knights is my greatest honor, and the meaning of my existence.”

“I have sculpted a stone statue for His Majesty Manfred Auguste, for His Majesty Ryan Auguste, and also for His Highness Roland, His Highness Williams, and His Majesty Edward… I have sculpted stone statues for many great knights in my life, but I have never sculpted an elf before.” Baron Kartol paused, then smiled again. “Victor, how about I sculpt an ancestor statue for the House of Randell as well?”

Knightly lords placed great importance on their tomb statues. Compared to the ancient emperors of Huaxia building mausoleums for themselves, commissioning a statue in one’s lifetime was far more economical. But to start arranging one’s own posthumous affairs so early, Victor found it unlucky no matter how he thought about it.

He hesitated for a moment and politely declined, “Master, I am not an elf.”

“It doesn’t matter. I can sculpt you into a noble elf.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have the time…”

“It won’t take long.” The old stonemason shook his head and sighed. “Just let me touch your face and arms for a moment. His Majesty Edward didn’t have much time to stand there for me to study, either. I only had to touch his hand and face to sculpt his adult appearance. Alas, my eyes are failing me. Otherwise, a single glance would be enough.”

Lady Laelia, standing nearby, urged him, “Victor, this is a rare opportunity. You mustn’t disappoint the Baron’s kind intentions.”

Victor readily accepted the good advice. “Alright then… but how much should I pay you? And where should I collect the statue?”

“No payment is needed.” The old stonemason shook his head, chuckling happily. “His Highness Roland said you will become, what was it… the second Sword Saint. To be able to sculpt a statue for a great figure like you is payment enough for me. I am returning to my home in Kalai Town tomorrow. Once the statue is finished, I will have someone deliver it directly to the Randell Fief. What do you think?”

“Then I shall trouble Your Excellency.”

Victor shifted his position. The old stonemason reached out and gently traced his forehead, brow bone, nose bridge, and cheeks, then felt his arm and fingers. He nodded. “That’s enough.”

“My lord’s skill is truly divine!” Ternis seemed even happier than Victor. He said with a smile, “It’s getting late. I will have someone prepare an evening banquet to welcome the two masters to the Blue Amber Inn.”

Victor, however, stood up. “My apologies, I have an engagement for dinner with Lady Sylvia. Father, Mother, my lords, please excuse me. Over the next few days, I will have Narsen come and instruct my brother in his martial skills. I will take my leave now. No need to see me out.” After speaking, he gave the old stonemason a deep look, then turned and left the living room.

Gru and Shak were waiting in the hallway. They fell in behind their master as he appeared. Victor put on his cloak, raised his hood, and walked unhurriedly towards the inn’s entrance.

His heart was a mix of shock and delight.

The shock was because when the old stonemason had touched him just now, the Purple Gold Coin pressed against his chest had warmed up slightly. Although the temperature change was subtle, it could not escape the detection of X-3.

The Auguste family’s tomb keeper was a Wizard!

The delight was because Father Miller’s so-called amulet really worked. With the Purple Gold Coin amulet protecting him, no Wizardry could harm him.

That old charlatan is probably a formidable figure himself! Otherwise, how would he dare to lecture Clement? ‘Our Lord is not the Lord, the Lord is not our Lord’—what on earth does that mean? What does the Auguste family want by sending a Wizard here? Why did the Queen take the little Baron’s first time? Sculpted into a noble elf… the second Sword Saint?

Countless thoughts intertwined into a tangled mess, making Victor’s head throb. Just as he was about to leave, he came upon a group of people entering the inn, so he stepped aside. The man at the head of the group first nodded in acknowledgment, but then seemed to catch sight of the peerless face beneath the hood. He suddenly walked over and said eagerly, “This beautiful Miss, I am—”

“Your Excellency, you are too close!” One-Eyed Dragon Gru took a step forward, blocking the man’s path.

With a whoosh, Gru’s burly body flew backward, crashing heavily onto the floor several meters away.

Victor was abruptly jolted back to his senses. He saw a guard beside the man retracting his arm, saying flatly, “You were too close, too.”

Chapter 411: Humiliation (Part 1)

Gru was in the prime of his life, standing over 1.9 meters tall and weighing nearly 110 kilograms. He specialized in a simplified version of the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form. While he hadn’t reached a profound level, his stance was incredibly stable; two or three strong men would have trouble pushing him over.

Gru, physically powerful and skilled in martial arts, had been shoved by the other party’s guard and sent flying like a scarecrow, completely unable to resist.

Without a doubt, the guard who had acted was a true Knight!

Victor looked up and swept his gaze over them. His elemental vision revealed that among the fifteen people, there were three Knights, four apprentice knights, and nine guards. Of them, the two female apprentice knights were exceptionally beautiful, rivaling even Alice and her sister. They flanked the man in the lead, one on his left and one on his right, and were likely his personal handmaidens.

The man appeared to be in his thirties. He had blond hair, blue eyes, and handsome features. His figure was tall and well-proportioned, his body’s ratio bordering on perfect. The skin on his hands was smooth and delicate, without any obvious flaws or calluses.

He was, shockingly, a senior knight with a Spirit attribute of fourteen.

A senior knight with Knight guards and apprentice knight handmaidens was certainly no ordinary Knight-Noble. But Shak, the Lithe Ape militiaman, couldn’t care less about the other party’s status. He unhesitatingly drew his refined iron longsword. The faint blue gleam of the blade flashed once as the sword went from illusory to solid, its cold edge pointing directly at the heart of the Knight guard.

The blond noble’s guard never expected that after merely disciplining a common soldier, the other side would actually draw a sword on him.

Shak had a plain face and an ordinary demeanor; he was clearly not the scion of some noble with a powerful bloodline. But his exquisite sword skills and indifferent gaze left no doubt as to his resolve.

The guards seemed to receive a command. Clang, clang, clang! Their purple Adamantine longswords were unsheathed in unison. But they lacked Shak’s decisiveness, merely forming a protective circle around the blond noble while warily watching the elite swordsman’s every move.

If this reckless fellow dared to take another step forward, they would chop off his hand before his foot even lifted!

The Knights had such confidence and strength, yet their duty as guards required them to maintain a posture of complete and focused vigilance.

As Shak faced off against the group alone, Victor calmly turned and walked toward Gru. Before the man could get up, Victor instructed him in an extremely soft voice, “Stay down and don’t move.”

The “noble miss’” world-toppling beauty, combined with her calm and composed grace, only increased the blond Knight’s admiration. He waved his hand with gentlemanly conduct. “Why so tense? Sheathe your swords.” Then he spoke politely to Shak, “Warrior, please sheathe your sword as well. I am…” Before he could finish, he watched in astonishment as the swordsman seized the lull in the atmosphere to pull a strangely shaped ceramic instrument from his waist, lift it to his lips, and blow.

Alchemical humans were cold, merciless, and fearless, but they weren’t idiots. Knowing he couldn’t win, if he didn’t call for reinforcements now, when would he? The Master’s safety was paramount. As for whether the opponent was human or monster, Shak wouldn’t trouble himself with such a pointless question.

HONK! HONK! HONK!

The peculiar ceramic instrument emitted a series of rapid, deep notes, shattering the tranquility of the Blue Amber Inn.

HONK! HONK! HONK!

The same calls rose and fell outside the inn, accompanied by human cries of alarm, the frantic barking of hounds, and the crunching sound of sharp talons trampling withered leaves and branches, growing closer by the second. A flock of giant birds, as large as horses, smashed through the wooden fence and scrambled to the inn’s entrance, surrounding the blond Knight and his retinue.

They craned their necks, opened their massive, axe-like beaks, and let out resounding cries. Their gray feathers puffed up, making their huge forms even more terrifying. Their dagger-like talons scraped restlessly at the ground, all poised to attack.

The blond Knight’s guards exchanged horrified glances, their longswords drawn once more as they formed a circle and tried to move back toward the inn.

“You dare move!” a thunderous roar blasted their eardrums, making them ring.

A blurry figure shot toward them like an arrow, coming to an abrupt halt five meters away.

Seeing their companion arrive, the flock of strange birds was instantly emboldened. Their “honking” cries turned to low “cooing” rumbles as they eagerly prepared to attack at any moment.

Immediately after, more than twenty well-armored soldiers arrived. One of them, a giant of a man over 2.3 meters tall, casually snapped a Crocodile date tree as thick as a man’s thigh. He strode up behind the newcomer, shaking the treetop and roaring, putting on an “I’m very fierce” expression. His ferocious act did little to hide his timid nature, a sight that was truly comical.

Fruits rained down, continuously thudding against his and his companions’ heads, bouncing away.

“Barbarians?”

“Are there barbarians that fat?”

“He looks like an idiot.”

The guards wanted to laugh, but they didn’t dare.

The first man to arrive was in his prime, his gaze as focused as a steel awl. Though he was bare-handed, the savage and violent aura he radiated was overwhelming. The guards felt as if they were facing a ferocious beast choosing its next victim to devour; if they made the slightest move, the beast would pounce and tear them to shreds.

Narsen’s mood was absolutely foul. Although his Master was extraordinarily powerful, he was trapped in the cramped inn by a group of noble Knights, making it difficult to use his movement techniques. If the other side attacked regardless of casualties, it was only a matter of time before they subdued his Master. And he was stuck outside, hesitating to act for fear of collateral damage. Even with all his strength, he could only watch helplessly.

This was the worst-case scenario.

Anxiety, frustration, and fury ignited his blood, power surging endlessly from within his body. Yet Narsen’s mind was preternaturally calm. He locked onto his opponents with his gaze and his will, his soul seeming to detach from his body, observing everything from a high vantage point as he frantically searched for a counter-strategy.

This was the state where the fire of the mind ignited both inside and out, illuminating the self.

“Aka, stop shaking that. Give me the axe.” Narsen took the Adamantine battleaxe from Caligula’s hand. His eyelids drooped, leaving only a sliver of light, avoiding provoking his opponents while still locking onto their leader. “When I say go, you swing that tree trunk horizontally.”

Caligula obediently brought the seven-meter-long tree trunk around in a wide arc. Using his body as an axis and his arms as the lever, his posture was fluid and coordinated. Now, no one would doubt this giant could match an Ogre in strength, and the technique he used to channel his power left the Knights opposite him dumbfounded.

The blond Knight’s expression finally changed.

The strange birds were just large, powerful raptors. They excelled at coordinated hunting, making them only slightly more troublesome than an equal number of brown bears. The leather-armored guards were of no concern. The giant was immensely strong but lacked fighting spirit, so he was not a threat. But the man in his prime moved like thunder and was as still as a mountain. This fusion of motion and stillness was the very embodiment of a Knight’s mind-body unity, yet his features were plain and his build was not perfectly proportioned—he was clearly not a Knight-Noble. His battle intent, however, was so palpable it could crush an opponent’s spirit.

All of this indicated that he was an immensely powerful Ferocious Warrior, one whose strength was comparable to a Silver Knight.

A beauty that could topple nations… a Silver-rank Ferocious Warrior… large, land-bound birds of prey… and the silver moon sigil on the guards’ leather armor… If the blond Knight still hadn’t figured out the “noble miss’” true identity by now, he would be the real idiot.

He definitely couldn’t win a fight, and even if he could, he couldn’t act. The only option now was to quickly state his identity and prevent the situation from escalating further.

Just as the blond Knight was about to speak, a cold, pleasant voice sounded from behind him. “Don’t move. You’re too close now.”

An icy wind circled and cut at his neck like a knife, and this was no mere mental illusion. The blond Knight raised his hands and slowly turned to see the “noble miss” had removed her cloak, revealing black hair, black eyes, and slightly pointed ears. Her aura was ethereal and natural, her features as exquisite as a work of art. A ceaselessly surging current of air surrounded her. His hand was gripping the hilt of his sword, a deep blue storm swirling around the scabbard, on the verge of unleashing a thunderous strike.

“Sheathe your swords,” the blond Knight ordered his men calmly, then turned back with a bitter smile. “Your Excellency Randell, this is a misunderstanding. I am…”

Victor cut off his explanation, his eyes narrowing as he said coldly, “You knew I was Viscount Randell? You just approached within two meters of me, humiliated me, and subdued the Captain of my Personal Guard. Are you sure you want to state your identity now?”

Beast avoids beast. Knights, with their extraordinary power, were even mightier than beasts. When unfamiliar Knights met, they had to maintain a distance of over two meters. Only after they had properly identified themselves was it possible for them to walk arm in arm. And wind-element Great Knights were always given an even wider berth by other High-ranked Knights.

The void wind element could not reinforce leather armor or Mithril plate; its notoriously weak defensive properties were as impressive as its terrifying killing power.

The Wind Knight originated from the Moon Elf bloodline. But while Wind Knights could at least reinforce their Physique with Aura, the Moon Elf nobles were equally renowned for their peerless beauty and their frail bodies.

A famous Moon Elf noble blocked at an inn’s entrance? Humiliated? His Captain of the Personal Guard injured?

The servants sent by other guests to investigate all pulled their heads back, followed by the sound of doors shutting throughout the inn.

They couldn’t afford to get mixed up in disputes between great nobles. Now that Viscount Randell had revealed his identity, his safety was assured. Whether the other party shamed him or he embarrassed them, it was best for the other guests to feign ignorance.

Chapter 412: Humiliation (Part 2)

Horra Ludwig was in a foul mood.

He had only come to buy some coffee, yet he’d stumbled into this mess!

The Ludwigs of Dodor and the Ludwigs of Gambis shared a common ancestor, but served different sovereigns. They were distinguished by the Golden Dawn Sparrow sigil and the Blue Dawn Sparrow sigil.

Horra hailed from the Golden Dawn Sparrow family. His grandfather was the cousin of the Gold Knight, Duke Ludwig, and his half-sister was Dodor’s future queen—Claudia Ludwig.

Thanks to his cousin, Horra had followed the Crown Prince since childhood, serving as an attendant knight for the House of Friedrich.

This was his first visit to Gambis as an envoy of Dodor, and he wanted to bring back some gifts for his cousin and the Crown Prince. And Gambis’s most famous specialty product was none other than the coffee from the Centaur Hills.

Horra had found out that in Blinor City, the coffee was sold exclusively at the Blue Amber Inn. But that was the property of Viscount Ternis Ludwig.

The Golden and Blue Dawn Sparrows looked down on each other, often tripping each other up in secret and causing public embarrassment. Horra didn’t want to be personally ridiculed by the Blue Dawn Sparrow Marquess over some coffee. He figured that if he showed up in person, giving Ternis no chance to be tipped off, wouldn’t the fellow who had just married into the Blue Dawn Sparrow family have to obediently hand over the coffee?

After attending a small luncheon at Aerie Fortress, Horra first found a way to dismiss the attendants from the fortress’s Household Department before rushing to the Blue Amber Inn with his men. Then, he mistook the rapidly rising Viscount Randell for a noble lady of unparalleled beauty, triggering a series of incidents.

Only lesser nobles below the rank of Earl would stay at a manor-style inn in the outer district. In Horra’s eyes, that beautiful noble lady was no exception. It was just that her one-eyed guard didn’t understand the situation; not only did he look vicious, but his spittle had nearly sprayed onto Earl Horra’s face. Of course the Earl’s knight-guards had to teach him a lesson.

Who could have known that a Wind Walk Archer of noble blood would be at the Blue Amber Inn? Who could have known that the Captain of a viscount lord’s Personal Guard would be an ordinary man? And who could have known that the renowned Viscount Randell would be so treacherous?

It was too late for words now. Viscount Randell had piled one accusation after another upon him, and all the residents of the Blue Amber Inn had retreated into their rooms. No one would step forward to clear up the misunderstanding for Horra Ludwig. If he revealed his identity, the story would become that an envoy from Dodor had attempted to approach a frail noble of elven bloodline and had even injured his personal guard.

What was the Dodor Kingdom trying to do to Viscount Randell? Humiliate him by treating him like a noble lady, or attempt to harm him?

Horra could not afford the consequences of either conclusion.

However, Viscount Randell had clearly recognized him. By preventing Horra from revealing his identity, he was also preventing this misunderstanding from escalating into a diplomatic crisis. But Horra had to pay a price for it—the price of being humiliated by Viscount Randell.

Having thought it through, Horra ordered, “Throw your swords on the ground!” Raising his hands, he said cautiously to Victor, “Your Excellency Randell, this is truly a misunderstanding. Please allow us to withdraw from here first. We can clarify the misunderstanding and offer our apologies outside, so as not to disturb the other guests… What do you think?”

“Back away, one by one.”

Dejected, the men from Dodor retreated outside, where they were surrounded by the personal guard of the House of Randell.

“My lord, are you alright?” Narsen came over and asked.

“I’m fine… Aka, you can put the tree down.” Victor shook his head and added, “Gru is injured. Send someone to check on him.”

Gru came out, supported by Shak. He said weakly, “My lord, I have disappointed you.” As he spoke, he opened his mouth and spat out a mouthful of bloody water.

The fellow’s strength is lacking, but his mind is sharp enough. He’s mastered the art of playing dead to stage an injury all by himself, even secretly biting his own tongue… Victor was amused, but he wore a grim expression. “Two of you, take Gru to the Church and ask a priest to treat him.”

Once the actor had exited the stage, Horra stepped forward, bowed, and said earnestly, “Your Excellency Randell, I apologize for my and my men’s reckless actions. I am willing to pay a knight’s ransom as compensation for offending the House of Randell.”

“A knight from the Briatte family once trespassed on the Randell Fief and was captured alive by my men. His father paid a knight’s ransom of twenty thousand Gold Sol before I agreed to preserve his dignity.” Victor asked nonchalantly, “How much are you prepared to pay?”

Horra faltered for a moment, then gritted his teeth. “I’ll pay fifty thousand Gold Sol.”

“Good! Pay up.”

With a pained expression, Horra nodded to his personal handmaiden. The beautiful female apprentice knight pouted and handed a money pouch to Shak. The Lithe Ape militiaman poured the dazzling Purple Gold Coins into Caligula’s large hands, counted them meticulously, then put them back into the pouch and gave it to Victor.

Fifty thousand Gold Sol was the price of an Alchemical Dragon-Lizard… and an Alchemical Dragon-Lizard was equivalent to a Silver-rank Ogre chief… Victor’s anger subsided, and he nodded with considerable satisfaction.

Horra breathed a sigh of relief and said respectfully, “Your Excellency Randell, we will take our leave then.”

“Wait!”

Victor stopped Horra and his men, his gaze fixed on one of the knights. He said coldly, “You injured the Captain of my Personal Guard. Do you plan to just walk away like that?”

The knight-guard froze on the spot. Although he was a Bronze Knight who had advanced using Vigor Potions, a Knight was still a Knight. His extraordinary ability to unify mind and body made him very aware of the force behind his strike; he hadn’t injured that one-eyed man at all.

“Your esteemed Excellency Randell, forgive my bluntness. The Captain of your Personal Guard is not seriously injured. At most, he bit his own tongue… I think he’s afraid of being punished by you and is deliberately pretending to be hurt,” the Guardian Knight said resentfully.

Lower-class people are lower-class people, playing dead when they can’t win! How dare he deceive his master of noble blood? Watch me expose his true colors!

Horra Ludwig also gave a tactful reminder, “Your Excellency Randell, the Captain of your Personal Guard should be fine. You might want to consult a priest’s opinion.” The others also looked at Victor with pitying eyes, as if sympathizing with him for being fooled by his subordinate.

How could there be such naive Knight-Nobles? Don’t they even understand staging an injury for extortion?

Victor didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but on second thought, he realized that no commoner would dare to stage an injury to extort a Knight. Extortion among Knight-Nobles was either for a Bloodline, territorial resources, or a large ransom—in short, it was never a trivial matter. The disputes of nobles would naturally not use an ordinary vassal as a pretext.

Victor had Gru play dead merely to punish a noble Knight. Such an act was indeed rather unseemly, or it could be said, a humiliation to the Knight-Nobles. However, Horra had crossed a line with Victor. His subordinate was destined to be the chicken killed to scare the monkey.

Calling me a “beautiful Miss”… How can I cure your blindness without slapping your face?

“Can I not see whether my subordinate is injured? It is Your Excellency’s eyes that need treatment from a priest.” Victor couldn’t be bothered to pretend anymore. He waved his hand. “Narsen, break his left arm. Let him accompany His Excellency here to see a priest.”

The Knight said angrily, “I’d rather duel!”

Horra’s face changed drastically. He said grimly, “Your Excellency, no one would insult the honor of a noble Knight like this.”

“What honor is there for a Knight who attacks a commoner?” Victor gave a contemptuous smile and turned his head. “Narsen, this Knight wants a duel…”

“I’ll gladly oblige!” Narsen stepped forward with a fierce grin, brandishing his axe. “Bare-handed, I’ll break both your arms. With weapons, I’ll grant you your honor.”

The knight-guard’s face flushed red. He knelt on one knee and said to Horra, “Master, please allow me to defend my honor.”

“Robert, calm down.”

Horra turned his head and glared at Victor. “I will not apologize for a guard who is playing dead. We choose unarmed combat.”

Victor curled his lip in disdain and gave Narsen a look. “Be careful… don’t go and kill his lordship the Knight.”

“Don’t worry, my lord.” Narsen tossed his battleaxe aside, crossed his arms, and stepped forward. He jutted his chin out. “Which arm do you want broken first?”

Robert said grimly, “I hope the Bear of the Northlands’ claws are sharper than his mouth!” With a single sliding step, he appeared before Narsen as if he had shrunk the ground, his left fist cutting through the air as it whistled toward Narsen’s chest.

A Knight was a Knight, after all. Robert’s punch was executed to perfection, possessing both speed and power, leaving no openings in his form. Even if his opponent were an indestructible iron man, he would have been sent flying.

Narsen was no iron man; his Physique, however tough, was still flesh and blood. A Silver Knight could protect themselves with the void element and take a full-powered blow from an initial-rank knight head-on. If Narsen were hit, he would at least lose his balance, if not be seriously injured, and then be subjected to a relentless storm of blows.

A Ferocious Warrior’s greatest advantage was their combat intuition, which surpassed that of a Knight. They were born knowing how to handle dangerous situations. Narsen had already ignited the fire of the mind, his Spirit attribute had reached sixteen, and his combat power was enough to match a Great Knight who had just entered the Silver realm.

He was seen to curl his body, his chest caving inward as he sublimely dodged the sharp fist. Before his opponent could adjust his footing, Narsen grabbed his arm and, with twice the strength of an ordinary knight, twisted it back. The sound of a bone breaking instantly rang out.

Unflustered, Robert used the momentum to lean in, raising his right elbow to strike at Narsen’s face.

Unfortunately, the gap in their strength was too great for any technique to bridge.

As if foreseeing the move, Narsen blocked the elbow strike. He countered with the Gryphon Combat Technique taught by Tournans to restrain Robert, his immense strength forcing him to a knee, unable to move. Narsen intended to break Robert’s arm in an execution-like posture.

“My, my, Lord Narsen, what are you doing?”

Ternis arrived fashionably late. He walked over with his guards and said in surprise, “Earl Ludwig, you’re here too?”

Horra Ludwig’s face was dark, and he said nothing. His men, however, glared at Ternis.

If this guy had shown up earlier and helped mediate, Robert wouldn’t have been humiliated. Showing up now, is he here to watch the show?

Not a single one of the Blue Dawn Sparrows is any good! Not even the son-in-law who just married into the family.

But Ternis, as if oblivious, smiled and said, “Is this gentleman sparring with Lord Narsen? Earl Ludwig, you might not know this, but Lord Narsen’s Tutor is the Legendary Sacred Warrior, Lord Tournans. His combat techniques are naturally outstanding.”

Horra and his knights were stunned, while Robert’s mood improved considerably.

There was no shame in losing to a legendary warrior’s disciple.

“So it’s the esteemed Earl from the house of Ludwig…” Victor chuckled lightly and said, “Narsen, let him go… And put away your swords.”

The personal guard sheathed their weapons and calmed the Swiftbirds. Narsen released Robert and retreated behind Victor.

“My lord Earl, have you come to the Blue Amber Inn for lodging?” Ternis asked with a beaming smile.

Horra said expressionlessly, “Just looking around. We’re leaving.”

The men from Dodor crowded around the Court Earl and left the orchard, not even bothering to pick up the adamantine longswords they had dropped on the ground.

After they had gone, Victor smiled. “It wasn’t wise of you to come out just now. If you’d come out earlier, they would have been grateful. By coming out now and revealing Narsen’s background, the Golden Dawn Sparrow people will only transfer their hatred to you.”

“I had to let you vent first. Besides, I have no plans to visit the Dodor Kingdom anyway.” Ternis shrugged nonchalantly, then laughed heartily. “The Golden Dawn Sparrows treat us like a collateral branch, thinking they’re superior. That fellow Horra is always sarcastic whenever he sees the Marquess. Now that he’s made a fool of himself in front of me, let’s see if he still dares to act so arrogantly in front of the Marquess again.”

“Speaking of which, I should thank you. The Marquess will surely be pleased when she hears about what happened today.”

Victor smiled. “You’re trying to win Susanna’s favor, aren’t you?”

Ternis shook his head with a wry smile. Victor then asked, “Have my sister and brother gone up?”

“They’ve already gone up through the back door. They’re with Baron and Lady Chatain now,” Ternis nodded.

“Good. I should be going. Please go up and tell my parents I’m fine, so they don’t have to worry.”

Victor waited for his men to collect the seven adamantine longswords, then mounted his Swiftbird and rode off.

Normally, he should have gone to reassure his parents, brother, and sister in person. But Victor had just noticed a detail. When the old stonemason’s servant peeked out, his eyes had a brief exchange with a servant dressed in a gray short robe.

That servant’s Elemental Attributes were all at eighteen. He was a high-ranked Silver Knight.

High-ranked Knights were arrogant by nature and valued their reputation greatly. Perhaps only a royal family with a deep heritage could make a Great Knight disguise himself as a servant to quietly protect a Wizard.

The old stonemason was clearly very important to the August family. A Wizard’s extraordinary abilities were known to be mysterious and unpredictable. Victor wasn’t too worried about Wizardry for himself at the moment, but it was a different story for Narsen and Caligula.

The Blue Amber Inn was a place of trouble. It was best to leave as soon as possible.

Chapter 413: An Accident

The inner city, York family’s residence.

Sylvia lay in Victor’s arms, shaking with laughter. Her soft golden hair, illuminated by the crystal lamp on the headboard, flowed like liquid sunshine, bright and warm.

Victor reluctantly tore his gaze away, rubbing his nose and asking, “Is it that funny?”

Sylvia tilted her head up and first offered him a lingering, fragrant kiss. Her long, graceful fingers brushed across Victor’s neck as she said intimately, “My dear, it’s not the least bit strange that your beauty can even move a Knight. But why would a senior knight from the Golden Dawn Sparrow family mistake your gender? Even if you were completely covered by a cloak…”

“I used to have an Adam’s apple to mark my masculinity… Now it’s gone,” Victor said dejectedly.

“Exactly. A face flushed with wine, lush and alluring. A daughter of a noble house with no backing would be his for the taking, wouldn’t she? All female knights have a powerful will deep in their bones. No matter how beautiful they are, none of them have your frail, ethereal, and captivating aura. This is why nobles with elven bloodline are so sought after,” Sylvia said, her smile like a blooming flower.

“You might as well just say I’m safe enough to be pushed around at will,” Victor said, displeased. “Just wait until I comprehend the Surge talent. We’ll see who dares to look down on me then.”

“Then I’d better seize the chance to push you around a bit first.” Sylvia squeezed Victor’s cheeks, her eyes darting playfully. She let out a laugh. “Has Roland ever pushed you around? For instance, made you wear women’s clothes…”

Victor pressed his lips together, responding with silence. He had not only worn them, but he had done so more than once. It was truly a memory too painful to revisit.

“My dear, don’t be angry,” Sylvia cooed, pecking him on the lips. “Life is full of accidents, and accidents fill a dull life with joy. Your joy brings me happiness. Don’t you want me to be happy?”

“As long as you’re happy,” Victor said, surrendering with raised hands. He changed the subject. “You think this was an accident, not something deliberately arranged by the August family?”

“If you treat it as an accident, it’s an accident. If you treat it as intentional, it’s intentional. The important thing is, what do you want to get from it? And what can you get from it?” Sylvia sat up straight and tidied her hair.

“That’s a lord’s perspective.” Victor shook his head, wrapping his arm around the Spirit Knight’s slender waist. “What’s the reality of the situation?”

“It should be a coincidence.” Sylvia pressed down on her lover’s hand as it slid downwards and lay down beside him, saying affectionately, “The tomb keeper is indeed an important member of the family, especially since his skill has reached a transcendent level. But that’s precisely what proves that Kato the stonemason couldn’t have been part of the August family’s scheme. His single-minded devotion to stone carving has limited his wisdom in other areas. It would only bring trouble if the August family involved such an eccentric craftsman in their secret plots.”

Victor said nothing about the Wizard; he couldn’t explain the origin of the Purple Gold Coin amulet to Sylvia. It would expose Miller’s existence.

Despite Sylvia’s extraordinary magnanimity, it was only because she stood at the peak, looking down on everyone else. In truth, the Spirit Knight’s desire for control was extremely strong. If she learned that a God-favored individual on par with herself was hidden in the Centaur Hills, the situation would likely spiral out of control.

Father Miller’s origins were unknown, his purpose a mystery. Victor intended to probe him slowly, but he couldn’t drag Sylvia into an unknown vortex.

No matter where the Spirit Knight’s limits lay, he could not accept his woman being implicated.

Victor remained silent for a moment before asking, “What about Dodor’s special envoy?”

Sylvia gazed into Victor’s eyes for a moment, then her crimson lips parted. “You handled that matter very poorly.”

“The Golden Dawn Sparrow family’s history can be traced back to before the Randt Empire, and they played an important role in the Empire’s fragmentation. In a sense, the House of Friedrich and the Ludwig family jointly rule the Dodor Kingdom. The current Duke Ludwig is addressed as ‘Your Highness’. The friendship of a Gold Knight is clearly worth more than fifty thousand Gold Sols. If you want to mend your relationship with the Golden Dawn Sparrow family, the price you’ll have to pay will certainly be more than fifty thousand Gold Sols.”

Victor said thoughtfully, “I should have just laughed it off and forged a friendship with the Golden Dawn Sparrow family?”

“We ally ourselves with the strong, we don’t make enemies of them. Isn’t that how all nobles are?” Sylvia raised a delicate eyebrow. “I want to keep you in the Centaur Hills, and the August family wants to keep you in Gambis. They won’t deliberately create opportunities for you to befriend a great lord from Dodor. Your falling out with the Golden Dawn Sparrow Earl is a complete delight for the August family. Don’t forget, you are my man, the master of the house in the Centaur Hills.”

“Earl Ludwig wouldn’t have deliberately humiliated me. The August family also didn’t expect I would retaliate against him so relentlessly.” Victor nodded slightly, pressing his lips together again. “But I don’t regret it one bit! That bastard might as well be blind!”

Sylvia leaned against Victor’s shoulder and said softly, “My dear, do you know how accidents happen?”

“How do they happen?”

“Because of your will, and my indulgence,” Sylvia said faintly. “A truly great noble should try to prevent all unexpected situations. A sharp-minded steward is indispensable, and one should do as little as possible oneself. Aerie Fortress can’t possibly monitor all of Blinor City, but the Household Department should have arranged an entourage for you. Do you like being followed? A life without accidents is unchanging, tedious, and utterly dull. Thank goodness you are freer than I am. Thank goodness I have you…”

Victor hugged the stunning beauty in his arms, savoring a moment of warmth before saying, “Let’s talk about the New Tax.”

“The New Tax? Let the New Tax go see the Lord of Radiance!” Sylvia feigned anger. “Right now, you should first prove you’re a male elf!”

Victor looked down into a pair of azure eyes, crystal clear and as brilliant as peerless gems. He couldn’t help but become lost in her watery gaze.

Late at night, at Marquess Golan’s estate.

Catherine, dressed in a long gown, sat with dignified grace in a chair, facing Marquess Golan from a distance.

The Regent paced slowly around the small room, his hands clasped behind his back. His shadow, cast by the candlelight, shifted direction constantly.

“The candles need to be changed,” Williams said with a soft sigh, stopping his pacing.

Marquess Golan nodded and reached out to ring the small golden bell on the table. The wooden door to the room was pushed open, and a draft rushed in, causing the candlelight to flicker wildly. A servant in a gray tunic entered alone.

“My Lord Marquess, Your Majesty the Queen, Your Highness the Regent,” he said with a slight bow, greeting all three at once.

“Vincent, thank you for your hard work. Is the Master doing well at the Blue Amber Inn?” Williams said with a smiling nod, then asked eagerly.

“The Master is well. He says not to worry.”

The gray-robed servant took a letter from his pocket and handed it over. Williams gestured for him to give it to Marquess Golan.

The Marquess took the letter, inspected the wax seal, broke it, and read the contents. He then placed it in a drawer, looked up, and asked, “What happened with the Golden Dawn Sparrow and Victor?”

“An accident. The Household Department attendant assigned to Earl Horace ran into me, so he didn’t dare to interfere. I was afraid of being exposed, so I didn’t take any action either,” explained Vincent, the Great Knight.

“Why were you worried about being exposed?” Catherine asked after a moment of thought. “Sylvia is at the York family’s residence. Who could see through your true strength?”

Vincent shook his head. “The Master told me to be wary of Viscount Randell; it seems the Viscount has exceptionally sharp eyes.”

“Oh, right. I also discovered something interesting,” Vincent said. “Viscount Randell has a giant with him whose strength might surpass Narsen’s. I saw the Crocodile Date Tree he broke. It was shattered by the force from his fingers.”

“What does that mean?” Catherine asked, her brow furrowed.

“The Crocodile Date Tree is even tougher and denser than hemlock. A fool, even one who has undergone the training of a Sacred Warrior, shouldn’t possess such strength,” Williams said, his eyes blazing. “This means the secret martial art created by Tournans is extremely valuable!”

“Vincent, I trust your judgment. You may leave for now,” Marquess Golan instructed faintly.

“Yes, my lord.” Vincent bowed and departed, closing the door behind him.

Williams shook his head and smiled. “An accident may have occurred, but the more accidents like this, the better!”

“The next accident might not be to our advantage,” the Queen said dismissively.

“Advantageous or not, accidents are hard to avoid. Unless… see for yourself.” Golan tossed the scroll, personally written by the Wizard, to the Queen.

Catherine caught the scroll. As she unrolled it, her pupils contracted instantly. She murmured, “Thirty-two years, golden hair, golden eyes.”

“Let me see.” Williams took the scroll and began to laugh as he read. “Haha, faster than expected… but it gives us enough time to set our plans… The Sword Saint bloodline and the bloodline of our Auguste family complement each other perfectly… Haha, this is truly wonderful.”

Marquess Golan rubbed his temples. One unreliable bloodline was already giving him a headache, and now he had to deal with a free-spirited wind… However, such a perfectly compatible bloodline was enough to sustain an empire for over a thousand years. Just like the Baselius family, who were still the legitimate rulers of their dynasty to this day.

“Roland’s view was correct,” the Marquess said in a low voice. “The nature of the wind is freedom. A Moon Elf noble locked away in a house is ultimately just a flower vase. And freedom always brings accidents… Sylvia saw this. For Victor to have come this far is not only due to the Master’s help, but also thanks to the deliberate indulgence of Rose Manor.”

“No wonder there hasn’t been a second Sword Saint since Draven,” Catherine said with a nod, then added worriedly, “What if an accident befalls Victor in the meantime?”

Williams let out a soft laugh and said solemnly to Golan, “I support Her Majesty the Queen continuing to take the Fertility Potion. And of course, we must select additional high-ranking female knights.”

Fertility Potion? She probably never stopped taking it… Golan grumbled to himself but still nodded in agreement. “Victor values his old relationships. We must consider this in our future plans.”

Values his old relationships… The corner of Catherine’s lips curved into an imperceptible smile.

Chapter 414: Taxes and Currency

The next morning.

Victor completed his indispensable morning exercises, enjoyed a lavish breakfast, and took a comfortable hot shower before changing into the viscount’s ceremonial robes that Nicole had personally tailored for him. Only after everything was in order did he walk to the small parlor of the Duke’s residence.

This morning, in his capacity as the lord of Gambis, he would go to Aerie Fortress to have an audience with the new king and present a congratulatory gift. But before that, he needed to have a brief discussion with Sylvia, Katerina, and Duke York about the kingdom’s annual tribute tax.

Victor walked into the parlor. Duke York was the first to greet him. “Victor, would you like something to eat or drink?” On the tea table before him were beef pies, a fruit salad, and a large bottle of fresh goat’s milk.

“Thank you, I’ve already had breakfast… I’ll have a cup of Snow Ear Tea.” Victor handed his cape to a handmaiden and sat in the empty chair beside Sylvia, apologizing, “I’m sorry to have kept you all waiting.”

Katerina was exquisitely dressed, her hair coiled high, a string of ruby necklaces gracing her long, fair neck, matched with earrings of the same style, giving her an air of dignified grace, at once beautiful and captivating. She sized Victor up with her gray-green eyes and smiled. “Victor, you look… very spirited.”

“He looks charming,” Sylvia interjected, her smile a mix of mischief and allure.

Victor’s handsome face fell. “My dear lady, that’s not funny… All right, laugh if you want. You all know anyway…” he muttered.

“Haha, Victor, I heard about your exploits yesterday the moment I got out of bed. Hmm, two versions in total. By now, there are probably seven or eight different rumors circulating in Blinor City, all about the dispute between you and the Dodor envoy,” Enbise said, his eyebrows dancing with excitement.

“It wasn’t me who said it,” Sylvia pouted aggrievedly, before bursting into laughter with Katerina again.

Katerina smiled faintly and said, “Victor, you’ve made an enemy of the Golden Dawn Sparrow family. Aerie Fortress won’t pass up this chance for publicity. I expect it’ll spread throughout the entire circle of nobles… and I mean… all of it.” She traced a circle in the air with her fair, slender index finger.

The York family handmaiden, suppressing a laugh, presented a fragrant cup of Snow Ear Tea. Victor picked up the cup, took a sip, and shook his head in self-mockery. “The appetizer before a nobleman’s meal, the delightful dessert at a tea party… My reputation has its uses, though not ones I’m fond of… Of course, the Golden Dawn Sparrow family won’t be happy either. That, at least, is some consolation.”

“I suspect no one will be happy about our next topic,” Victor said, his expression turning serious. “His Highness the Regent, through Viscount Tenis, is sounding out the Centaur Hills’ attitude toward the annual tribute tax reform.”

“Lady Sylvia just discussed it with us.” Enbise took a large gulp of goat’s milk and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “No one wants to pay more taxes, and no one can pay less. The kingdom’s annual tribute tax is levied based on the Church’s tithe. The way the priests collect taxes is the way the kingdom’s tax collectors do it, right from the Church’s ledgers. It’s normal to pay more when you earn more. The most the lords can do is band together to resist and delay it for a few years. The Regent’s annual tribute tax will eventually be implemented. Dodor, Naville, Sasan… the kings, the emperors, and the local bishops will all follow suit. No lord can escape.”

“One can only say that His Highness Williams’s timing is impeccable.” Duke York tossed down his fine linen napkin, patted his round belly, and sighed, “We have a tax exemption period of fifteen years and eight months. The Centaur Hills has no reason to resist the New Tax. By the time the Regent has dealt with the other families, we won’t be able to find a single ally and will have no choice but to pay up obediently. Besides, the tithe reform started in the Centaur Hills. Even if other lords complain, they’ll blame us for cooperating with His Holiness the Pontiff to change the annual tithe to a semi-annual one. I imagine His Highness Williams and the new Cardinal would be more than happy to praise the York family’s astuteness in front of the other families.”

He glanced at Victor before continuing, “Of course, we need the support of His Holiness the Pontiff, and we must support the Pontiff’s faction. By having the Centaur Hills cooperate with the Church’s tax reform, we first help His Eminence Clement and Bishop Pello stabilize their position. Only then will they have the capacity to help us.”

Resting her chin on her hand, Katerina sighed softly. “Bishop Saen, soon to be robed in red, is from Patriarch Tamor’s faction. There are reports that the Pontiff has ceded the archbishoprics of both Borui and Gambis to Patriarch Tamor. This way, the dioceses of Borui and Sus, and Dodor and Gambis, will all be connected, which is beneficial for the southern expansion strategy. On the surface, Patriarch Tamor’s influence has surged, but in reality, he’ll be scrambling for a long time. This means that even if we align ourselves with Patriarch Tamor, he’ll be hard-pressed to look after the interests of the Centaur Hills. The Pontiff’s faction, on the other hand, a power has become more concentrated, allowing them to help us and the Kingdom of Naville to the fullest extent. This retreat by His Eminence Clement was a move that considered the bigger picture—a clean, decisive, and absolutely brilliant retreat!”

“No one would deny Clement’s wisdom,” Sylvia said with a nod. “Although he’s left the York family with no choice, I do like an intelligent ally.”

Sylvia smiled at Victor. “My dear, since we have no other option, we might as well support the Regent’s new tax system. As a lord originating from Aerie Fortress, Viscount Randell should set an example and present the new king with a grand gift.”

She was tactfully implying: you started this, so you should pay the tax, and the favor from the Regent will be credited to you.

Victor pondered for a moment, then tapped the table and asked, “Then what about the tax collector in Raven Town and the trade tax?”

“Trade tax? Williams can forget about it!”

Duke York slammed his hand on the tea table and shrieked, “We have a tax exemption period of fifteen years, eight months, and seventeen days! And even when it expires, Aerie Fortress can’t dream of collecting a trade tax from me. The Two-headed Lizard Merchant Guild can sell their goods to whomever they please!” He took a ferocious bite of a beef pie and mumbled indistinctly, “I will unite all the great and minor lords to collectively resist the trade tax.”

“By the way, Victor, it was a brilliant move to hand over the management of raw sugar to the Two-headed Lizard Merchant Guild!”

“It is acceptable for Auguste to install a tax collector in Raven Town,” Sylvia nodded, then sneered, “A trade tax? What is that?”

“We are definitely not paying a trade tax… I don’t oppose Williams’s New Tax, nor do I oppose him placing a tax collector in Raven Town… I just want to know, if all the lords resist the New Tax, how will the situation develop?” Victor glanced around the room, his gaze finally resting on Katerina’s lovely face.

Katerina furrowed her slender, willow-leaf brows. Of the four people present, she knew the Auguste family best, but after wracking her brain for a long while, she came up empty. She could only shake her head, her bewildered expression looking both cherubic and adorable.

Sylvia cast a faint, teasing smile at Katerina, then turned her body towards Victor and asked, “What idea do you have now?”

Victor smiled confidently and softly uttered three words:

“Gold Sol, Silver Sol, Copper Sol.”

“Currency?” the portly duke mused, a sharp glint flashing in his narrowed eyes.

Katerina still wore a dazed and innocent look.

“You’d better explain yourself clearly!” Sylvia rolled her eyes prettily and gave Victor’s thigh a pinch that was neither too light nor too heavy. “I hate it most when you speak in riddles, deliberately showing off in front of ladies,” she reproached, shooting a glance at the slightly blushing Katerina.

Victor swore he had absolutely no intention of teasing Katerina, but Sylvia’s perfectly measured, faintly sweet jealousy, while making the atmosphere a little awkward, also sparked his confidence and desire to perform.

“Er… I wanted to first understand the military strength of the Auguste family,” Victor said with a wry smile.

“It’s very strong.” Katerina, having regained her dignified and elegant composure, said thoughtfully, “The vassal lords of the Auguste family possess a total of forty thousand provincial troops, while the Royal Capital’s Imperial Guard numbers over twenty thousand. Every soldier in the Imperial Guard is an elite, in no way inferior to our Fanged Legion. If you were to add up all the elite soldiers under the command of the lords of Gambis, their number would probably only exceed the Imperial Guard’s by a few hundred.”

“The Auguste family’s military might is at its peak, but it’s still far from enough,” Victor said, changing the subject. “On one hand, Aerie Fortress must maintain its rule within the country and peace on its borders, while also preparing to cross the river south to expand its territory. I estimate that the Imperial Guard must be at least doubled in size for the Royal Family to maintain its advantage. I wouldn’t even be surprised if Marquess Golan followed the Centaur Hills’ example and recruited refugees to form mercenary legions.”

“They don’t need to,” Sylvia said, shaking her head. “Loyalty is always the foremost condition when selecting and cultivating a family’s elites. It’s difficult for us to imagine a family distributing precious potions, limited land, and fine armor and equipment to men who are strong but lacking in loyalty. That would inevitably lead to the family’s collapse. A system of clear hierarchy and favoritism is what maintains the stability of a family, and by extension, the kingdom.”

“Our recruitment of refugees to form mercenary legions was a last resort. But the equipment, training,待遇, and status of the mercenary legions must be distinct from those of vassal soldiers.”

She paused, then sighed. “Gambis was founded over three hundred years ago, and the kingdom has been constantly taking in Dodor citizens displaced by war. These people have lived and multiplied in the kingdom’s north and the central plains of Blinor for at least seven generations. The vassal lords of Aerie Fortress have absorbed a portion of them, and while the rest are freemen, they actually consider themselves subjects of Auguste. With a single command from the King, Aerie Fortress could mobilize eighty thousand loyal soldiers from the north and the central region at any time.”

Katerina nodded slightly and added, “All the Ministry of Military Affairs has to do is urge the Ministry of Internal Affairs to relocate the surplus refugees, making room for militia families to live and grow, and then use the farmland and terraced fields developed by water projects to transform the militia into vassal soldiers. And those refugees, in turn, become the source of soldiers for the Centaur Hills’ mercenary legions.”

The topic was getting sidetracked. Victor quickly interjected, “In any case, the kingdom needs money!”

“Lots and lots of money,” Duke York nodded in agreement.

“What if Williams’s New Tax can’t be implemented?”

“They’ll mint gold coins to plunder our wealth,” Duke York clamored. “Damn it! I’d rather Williams continue collecting the annual tribute tax in goods than have him mint more gold coins.”

“You think the Regent will mint more Gold Sols? But what effect could that have on us?” Katerina didn’t even glance at Enbise, instead posing her question to Victor.

Is it really okay to treat your husband like that… Victor mourned for Enbise in his heart, but still explained, “Gold itself has no value. Exchanging gold for goods is an incredibly profitable business. If Williams is pushed into a corner by Marquess Golan, it’s the only thing he can do… No! He will definitely do it. It’s just a matter of when.”

Katerina pondered for a moment, then smiled bewitchingly. “Gold itself has no value… This is the first time I’ve ever heard such a thing, but on careful thought, your point is very reasonable. However, not even the royal family can violate the ancient Sol Agreement. Gambis has a fixed quota for minting gold coins.”

The Sol Agreement was a currency minting pact established in the holy cities by the great Knight families, spearheaded by Pope Sol the thirty-seventh. It unified the material, size, design, and exchange rates of currency, as well as its circulation. The agreement stipulated that every thirty-six years, the empires, kingdoms, and dukedoms of humanity would send representatives to the holy cities to jointly negotiate their respective Gold Sol minting quotas. The various kingdoms would then mint an equivalent value of Silver Sols according to their gold coin quota. The Church received one-tenth of the total Gold Sols issued and was responsible for the minting of Copper Sols.

The emergence of the Sol Agreement marked the end of the Silver Age and the rise of the Bronze Age. From then on, the legitimacy of the kingdoms was recognized by the Church, the vassalage system completely replaced the city-state system, and the Church’s tithe officially took its place on the stage of history.

As the various kingdoms could mint Silver Sols of equal value, the wealth of the royal families invisibly doubled. Consequently, the nascent royal families were particularly strong supporters of the Sol Agreement.

For thousands of years, the sanctity of the Sol Agreement had been deeply ingrained in people’s minds. Even the daughter of a great noble like Katerina had never considered the meaning behind the currency pact.

Perhaps only Victor would dare to disregard authority and tradition, to peel back the sacred veneer of the Sol Agreement and expose its bloody side.

“Where did the kingdom’s Purple Gold Coins come from?” he asked placidly.

“When the Auguste family was developing the wilderness, they lacked funds. They mixed Adamantine into Gold Sols to mint Purple Gold Coins and promised to exchange…” Katerina’s voice grew softer and softer. She recalled that Gambis’s Purple Gold Coin was modeled after the Boreans’ Purple Gold Coin. Now, all the major kingdoms had their own Purple Gold Coins.

Victor said, “The Purple Gold Coin was initially a debt certificate issued by the Boreans to help them raise funds for the construction of the Seven Great Islands. The various kingdoms scrambled to imitate them. Whenever a kingdom’s finances were tight, they would mint a batch of Purple Gold Coins to harvest the wealth of their lords. Although the Purple Gold Coin is backed by the royal family’s credit and tax revenue, it has, in fact, bypassed the Sol Agreement to become a new form of currency.”

He shook his head and added, “There are still many things I don’t understand about the nature of currency. But what is certain is that gold itself has no value. When everyone accepts that gold can be exchanged for goods, only then does it have value.”

Katerina was once again in a state of confusion. She pressed her lips together and said hesitantly, “But, the kingdom has not, after all, violated the Sol Agreement by secretly minting Gold Sols and Silver Sols. And the Purple Gold Coins can indeed be exchanged for the promised number of gold coins.”

Sylvia asked thoughtfully, “Duke Erickson secretly minted Gold Sols for ten years. Where did those coins go?”

“They were swallowed up by the Dodor Royal Family and the Church,” Duke York said with a sigh. “Erickson was an idiot. King Friedrich deliberately allowed him to secretly mint Gold Sols, and when the Dodor Royal Family could no longer withstand the pressure from the Church, they used him as a scapegoat. Erickson lost his life, but the money ended up in the pockets of the Dodor Royal Family and the Church.”

“If Friedrich can do it, so can Auguste, as long as they’re short on money,” Victor noted with a nod.

Sylvia turned her gaze to Victor and asked gravely, “Tell me, what does the power to mint currency truly mean for the kingdom? Will the Auguste family forsake the Sol Agreement?”

“A very interesting question.” Victor nodded and smiled. “What does it mean to exchange worthless gold for valuable herbs, ores, grain, beast hides, and other goods? It means this is a power like a monstrous flood; it means this is a power that must be held in the hands of the Royal Family.”

“Whether Williams can implement the New Tax or not, the Auguste family, and all royal families, will mint Gold Sols and Silver Sols, but they will not violate the Sol Agreement.” A playful smile tugged at the corner of Victor’s lips.

“Because the Sol Agreement is destined to fall apart.”

Chapter 415: Minting Rights

“The ancient and sacred Sol Agreement is destined to crumble?”

Such a world-shaking view was difficult to accept on the spot. Even Sylvia wore a grave expression. Victor, however, spoke with unconcerned confidence, “My deduction stems from the actual situation in the Randell Fief. As you all know, with the development of the New Agro-husbandry, the produce of the Randell Fief has increased, and the construction of public transport has brought prosperity to the market. However, a currency shortage has become a major factor hindering trade. Every week on the day of rest, after attending service at the Church in Laketon, the hired laborers clutch handfuls of Copper Sols and head to the market to buy daily necessities. But because the shops can’t make change, they’ve adopted a bundling strategy. The laborers don’t need so many goods, and they would rather not buy at all, leading to the phenomenon of workers forming groups to make purchases.” He shook his head. “But this is very inconvenient. Many transactions have fallen through as a result, leading to a decline in the Randell Fief’s transaction tax revenue.”

“So you’re preparing to mint new copper coins, and you even received the Pontiff’s permission?” Sylvia asked.

“Yes.” Victor nodded and continued, “In fact, this kind of currency shortage is a widespread problem. According to my statistics, the transaction prices for goods in the Wildwillow City market have dropped… Take pork lard for example. The total amount of lard we sold to Wildwillow City this year increased by seven percent compared to last year, but the price dropped by eleven percent. The goods from other families are also decreasing in price… The strange thing is, the total transaction volume in Wildwillow City has increased by seventy percent year-on-year… The market is incredibly active.”

Victor then added, “Goldwater City is the largest distribution hub for supplies in the Centaur Hills. The situation there is likely similar.”

The portly duke nodded gravely and sighed. “The volume of goods traded in Goldwater City has doubled, while prices have dropped by an average of fifteen percent… I have repeatedly asked the lords under me not to raise so many pigs, but they ask me in return, with so much Wolftail Grass planted on the terraced fields, what else are they supposed to raise? In truth, no matter what the lords raise or plant, as the fief’s produce becomes more abundant, the prices of goods will fall… We can’t just let the goods rot in the warehouses. The major caravans are frantically sweeping up goods in the Goldwater City market… Fortunately, the overall growth rate of our family’s wealth far exceeds previous years.”

Victor smiled and said, “The Wellington family, the Joshua family, House Sorim, and the Chapman family—they’re all selling goods in Wildwillow City while also purchasing large quantities of them. Although their profit margins on sales have decreased, Wildwillow City doesn’t charge a transit tax, transaction volumes are high, and capital turnover is fast. They can also procure cheap supplies, so all in all, the pros outweigh the cons. However, the one sweeping up goods most ferociously in Wildwillow City is the Four-Leaf Clover Trading Company!”

“I originally thought the Four-Leaf Clover Trading Company was under Sophia’s command. It was only recently that I learned that they are registered under the Wimbledon Merchant Association. More than half of the company’s stewards and aides are from the Queen’s main branch—the Tyrell family. You could say the Four-Leaf Clover Trading Company is the Queen’s personal caravan.” Victor sneered. “The Four-Leaf Clover Trading Company sells very little in Wildwillow City, mostly just some luxury items, but its purchasing volume is astonishing. Interestingly, they initially used Silver Sols for transaction settlements, but this year they began using Gold Sols.”

“I sent people to investigate the movements of the Four-Leaf Clover caravans. There are signs that their convoys, fully laden with goods, make a brief stop in the Wellington family’s city of Vistock without unloading anything, then head directly for Blinor City.”

Hearing this, Sylvia cast a placid glance at Enbise. The Four-Leaf Clover Trading Company was also the largest buyer in Goldwater City.

Duke York picked up a napkin and wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead, explaining, “We have an agreement with the Wimbledon Merchant Association for the Four-Leaf Clover Trading Company to pass unhindered. Besides, they hold the raw iron that Sophia transports to the Centaur Hills. I have no way of stopping them from purchasing large quantities of goods in Goldwater City.”

Katerina frowned and asked, “Enbise, you know full well that gold coins have no practical value, so why did you specify that the Four-Leaf Clover Trading Company must use Gold Sols for payment? What will we do if we have money but can’t buy supplies? We would be better off demanding that they sell us scarce resources like medicinal herbs or Adamantine, or else restrict their purchasing volume in Goldwater City.”

“It’s not that simple…” Duke York shook his head with a bitter smile. He simply couldn’t explain the subtleties of trade to the two family protectors.

“Hoarding gold coins is the right move!” Victor exclaimed in admiration, slapping the table.

Duke York laughed heartily. “See, Victor understands my plan. However…” His expression immediately turned worried. “I’m genuinely concerned now that those gold coins will end up worthless in my hands…”

“They won’t!” Victor shook his head with a smile.

Sylvia’s expression softened slightly. She glanced sideways at Victor and huffed, “If Aerie Fortress secretly mints Gold Sols, why won’t our stored gold become worthless? Explain that to me.”

“Yes, that’s what I’m worried about now, too. The Raven Town trade route alone isn’t enough,” Duke York said, looking at Victor with anticipation.

“Let me answer your questions one by one.” Victor paused in thought for a moment before speaking. “For example, one Gold Sol used to be able to purchase forty sheepskins. Now, one Gold Sol can purchase fifty-five. That’s because sheep have become more plentiful while the total number of gold coins in the market has not changed, so the purchasing power of gold has naturally increased. The Regent sees that sheepskins have gotten cheaper and thus orders the Four-Leaf Clover Trading Company to purchase them. They first use up their Silver Sols, then start using Gold Sols. When the Gold Sols are also gone, they find that the price of goods continues to fall. What can they do? The Auguste family only mints Gold and Silver Sols once every thirty-six years. Before the next minting, they can only watch helplessly as others buy up cheap supplies. Therefore, the Royal Family must bypass the restrictions of the agreement and mint currency. The upper-level foundation of the Sol Agreement will thus disappear.”

“Now let’s look at the common folk. Due to the shortage of circulating Copper and Silver Sols, merchants, in order to complete transactions, can only use copper beads, silver beads, copper ingots, and silver ingots as currency. If all else fails, they’ll use copper or silver rings… As long as the purity and weight of the copper, silver, or gold are correct, they don’t care if the currency is square or round. In this way, the lower-level foundation of the Sol Agreement is gone too.”

Sylvia nodded and summarized, “The total amount of goods is constantly growing, and the existing currency can’t meet the demands of trade… For the Royal Family, the once-every-thirty-six-years Sol Agreement has become a hindrance. The major kingdoms must take back their minting rights… The ancient Sol Agreement has truly reached its end.”

Victor turned his gaze to Enbise and said, “My Lady Katerina is worried about having money but being unable to buy things. My lord Duke was also just worried about the Gold Sols becoming worthless… These are actually two related problems. One is the trade channels, and the other is the value of the currency. Raven Town, Wildwillow City, and the Two-headed Lizard Merchant Guild are all trade channels we’ve established. We don’t need to discuss that for now. Let’s just talk about the value of currency.”

Victor took a sip of Snow Ear Tea and said to Sylvia, “The increase in the purchasing power of Gold Sols is what I call appreciation. Lord Enbise saw this appreciation, which is why he hoarded Gold Sols. He deduced from the quantity of goods produced in the Centaur Hills that commodity prices would continue to fall, and that hoarding gold coins would help him avoid losses from price fluctuations.”

Enbise interjected, “A good portion of the kingdom’s gold coins are stored in the Treasury in Goldwater City—that’s Sophia’s hoard. I judged that the amount of Gold Sols in circulation was very limited, and with twenty-eight years until the next Sol Agreement, I was preparing to use my reserves of Gold Sols and the price difference in commodities to make a great profit.” He paused, then said with frustration, “I never once considered that the Auguste family might bypass the Sol Agreement and mint Gold and Silver Sols ahead of schedule.”

“That situation is what’s known as depreciation.” Victor shook his head with a smile. “But I must say, my lord Duke’s worries are unnecessary.”

“Depreciation only occurs when the quantity of currency in circulation grows faster than the supply of goods. Under the current circumstances, the possibility of depreciation is minuscule.”

“Firstly, gold is stable in nature, not easily corroded, and has a beautiful color, making it a natural currency. But gold is scarce. Even if all the major kingdoms mined their gold mines at full capacity, they couldn’t meet the ever-growing demands of trade. Secondly, wise sovereigns will not issue currency recklessly. They must maintain a reserve of gold and use their right to mint currency to keep prices within a reasonable range.”

“Manipulate prices with currency?” Sylvia’s expression flickered, and she said with a warm smile, “But I don’t want to be held by the throat by the Royal Family. Dearest, your suggestion is…”

The Centaur Hills had the structure of a Dukedom, Sylvia had the ambition to found a nation, and Duke York and Katerina were at the family’s center, with their vassals below them.

From this perspective, they were not opposed to Williams’ tax reforms. If Gambis’s New Tax could be implemented, Sylvia could justifiably place tax collectors in each vassal’s town, thereby strengthening Rose Manor’s control over the Centaur Hills.

Victor, who had cooperated with the Pontiff’s tithe reform, could hardly oppose the Royal Family’s New Tax. To a certain extent, Victor even welcomed the trade tax.

House Randell had two development paths, one overt and one covert. On the surface, Victor presented the proper attitude of a new lord, respecting the authority of the Church and the Royal Family, with a limited degree of deference. Behind the scenes, he had to seize every opportunity to create favorable conditions for strengthening The Golden Company.

If Gambis were to actually collect a trade tax, it would perversely stimulate the growth of The Golden Company. Unfortunately, the trade tax was merely a bluff by Williams. A kingdom built on the vassalage system simply lacked the ability to collect trade taxes from independent lords.

Victor’s real concern was the new copper coins for the Randell Fief.

Although the Pontiff had agreed to let House Randell mint new copper coins, he had demanded that the new coins be pegged to Copper Sols. In other words, Victor could only mint new coins equivalent in value to the Copper Sols he held. If the Randell Fief couldn’t redeem them for Copper Sols, it would be a disaster.

But this way, not only did the cost of issuing the new currency double out of thin air, but the quantity that could be issued was also severely restricted. Minting new coins became a deal that would lose him a fortune.

Unless Victor could obtain the right to mint Copper Sols himself.

Due to issues with smelting technology and the actual value of copper, for an ordinary lord, minting Copper Sols was a slightly unprofitable venture. No lord was willing to do it. The Church had used a soft approach of persuasion and pressure to force the minting of Gambis’s Copper Sols onto House Sorim. The declining House Sorim needed the Church’s support, so they grudgingly accepted. The two parties had cooperated for nearly a century without incident. It would not be easy for Victor to take over the minting rights for Copper Sols.

Given House Randell’s background and credibility, the Pontiff wouldn’t dare entrust the minting of Copper Sols to Laketon, not even in his wildest dreams.

House Randell didn’t have the qualifications to mint Copper Sols, but the York family did. So, Victor thought of using them as a front. He had been “brainwashing” Sylvia with his admittedly shallow knowledge of finance, all to stoke her interest in the right to issue currency.

Sylvia’s request for advice invigorated Victor. He declared with high spirits, “Gold is a universally recognized currency; you can’t go wrong storing gold. And storing gold is not limited to Gold Sols—gold products, gold nuggets, and gold ingots should all be stored. Only with a gold reserve can we set the rules of the game.”

“I never thought of that,” Duke York murmured.

Katerina asked hesitantly, “Victor, are you asking us to privately mint Gold Sols?”

Victor shook his head and said, “The authority of the Church must not be violated, and the human kingdoms need a unified currency. No matter how the Sol Agreement changes, the material, design, and exchange rate of Gold Sols, Silver Sols, and Copper Sols will not change. As for the right to mint gold coins… that won’t change in the short term either.”

“But one day, Gold Sols will be minted freely. We just have to wait patiently for the kingdoms to lift the lid, and build up a gold reserve in advance,” Sylvia interjected.

Katerina’s eyes lit up, and she pressed, “What about silver?”

Duke York gave a dry cough and said slowly, “Silver tarnishes over time, and the loss from re-smelting is significant… The silver mines in the Centaur Hills can remain untouched. We just need to store gold.”

Victor then explained, “My Lady Katerina, it’s like this: gold possesses a unique quality—it guarantees the value of silver. The amount of gold you have determines how many Silver Sols and Copper Sols of equivalent value you can mint. If one day, gold were to guarantee the value of straw paper, you shouldn’t be surprised to see straw paper used as currency.”

“Who guarantees the value of gold?” Sylvia suddenly asked.

Victor thought for a moment. “The Church. The Church is using its authority and credibility to guarantee the value of gold.”

Sylvia shook her head gently. “It is power. The power of Knights and clergy balancing each other. The Order that arises from this balance is what guarantees the value of gold.”

“An incisive explanation.” Victor did not stint on his praise, then pivoted, “Besides storing gold, we can also mint Copper Sols…”

Sylvia tilted her head, a soft smile playing on her lips. “Dearest, that is your goal. You want the right to mint Copper Sols.”

“Dearest, your wisdom and your beauty both captivate me,” Victor flattered her first, before admitting frankly, “That’s right, I need the right to mint Copper Sols. I can guarantee…”

“No need to explain. Minting Copper Sols is a thankless task…”

Sylvia cut Victor off. Just as a look of disappointment crossed his face, she added slyly, “But I am so fond of you, how could I possibly refuse your request?”

This public display of affection made Victor’s face flush red. Sylvia covered her mouth to hide a giggle, while Katerina and Enbise were left dumbfounded.

Sylvia’s smile faded, and she said coolly, “In a couple of days, I will invite Marquis Sorim, Lady Judy, Duke Joshua, and Bishop Saen to a Tea Party for the York family. I suspect the Regent will try to transfer House Sorim’s minting rights to the Chapman family… Earl Chapman is notoriously stingy. How could he possibly agree to mint Copper Sols? I will handle what comes after.”

“It’s getting late. You should set off for Aerie Fortress to have an audience with the new king.” Sylvia stood up, her eyes blazing. “Roland and Goron are waiting for the Centaur Hills’ Blue Taro, and I am also looking forward to the Auguste family’s alchemists creating a Blue Taro potion specifically for Gold Knights.”

Chapter 416: A Pleasure Doing Business (Part 1)

“Victor, wait here a moment. I have something to discuss with Katerina. You can use this time to discuss the details of the coin minting distribution with Enbise.” Sylvia beckoned to Katerina. “Katerina, please come with me.”

Victor was about to see Sylvia out when he heard this. He asked, uncertain and surprised, “Ah? My Lady Katerina is also going to Aerie Fortress?”

“His Highness Roland invited me to Aerie Fortress… Hmm, let’s just say it’s a trip down memory lane.” Katerina stopped, her bright eyes flashing as she tilted her head slightly, asking with a mix of feigned annoyance and delight, “What’s this? My dear little Wil doesn’t want to travel with his Big Sister Rinna… That’s truly heartbreaking.”

Wil was the nickname—a stage name, really—that Roland had given the little Baron. Only a few people knew Victor by that name, and Katerina was one of them.

The legitimate daughter of Duke Joshua had nearly become the Queen of Gambis. As one of Roland’s closest friends, she had known the little Baron for a very long time.

In Victor’s memory, Katerina had been very kind and attentive to the adorable little prince, but in front of the other young attendants, she always maintained a proud and refined posture. She occasionally joined in the games Roland invented and directed, and only then would she use Victor’s nickname.

Victor had been quite startled when he first met Katerina at Rose Manor. They had a tacit understanding to avoid mentioning their past at Aerie Fortress, let alone reminisce.

For Katerina to call out Victor’s little-known nickname in public was a clear sign of intimacy. But Victor couldn’t put himself in the shoes of the little Baron at all; he only felt awkward. Composing himself, he gave an elegant bow. “It would be my honor to travel with you, the esteemed My Lady Katerina.”

Katerina lifted her chin slightly, the corners of her lips turning up in a smile that twinkled in her eyes, as if to say: You know what’s good for you. Then, she let out a soft laugh, linked arms with Sylvia, and glided lightly out the door.

Only Victor and Duke York were left in the room, sitting opposite each other. They stared blankly at one another, the atmosphere indescribably strange.

The person Victor wanted to see the least was Enbise York. Perhaps because of Sylvia, he always felt uncomfortable, even a little disgusted, when facing the fat duke. But now, he could only feign composure and ask, “My lord Duke, do you have any other questions regarding the right to mint Copper Sols?”

“I like it when people call me ‘My lord Duke,’ but I’d prefer it if you called me Enbise.” Duke York shifted his corpulent body and said, “Her Highness Sylvia thinks too highly of me. I really haven’t studied currency much. However, I can’t shake the feeling that there are loopholes to exploit in the Sol Agreement regarding the minting of Copper Sols, but as for the specific problems…” He paused and shook his head. “I need some time to think it over carefully before I can discuss our cooperation.”

“In that case, I won’t disturb your meal.” Victor prepared to take his leave.

Enbise nodded and cut a piece of pie, then suddenly asked, “Victor, have you known Katerina for a long time?”

Is he warning me to stay away from Katerina? You can’t even keep an eye on her yourself, what does that have to do with me? If you dare give me any trouble, don’t blame me for not being courteous… A jolt went through Victor, immediately followed by a surge of anger. He sat back down and said nonchalantly, “Yes, I saw her when I lived at Aerie Fortress. We weren’t close. I thought she was just another handmaiden at the royal palace.”

Duke York’s fat face broke into a friendly smile. He changed the subject. “Victor, have you ever noticed a strange phenomenon? Among the five Royal Capital marquesses of Gambis, besides Sophia, not a single one is an Extraordinary Knight.”

The five great marquess families of the Royal Capital—Leopold, Grehwald, Bastern, Ludwig, and Wimbledon—are all illustrious houses with long histories. They do not lack High-ranked Knights, but the one who inherits the title of Marquess is often an ordinary scholar of the family. The family’s Knights, on the other hand, are almost always far from the kingdom’s political center, either serving in the military, acting as vassal lords, or serving in the entourages of the Royal Family.

It was a peculiar phenomenon for regular nobles to suppress Knight-Nobles. Victor, however, dismissed it with a laugh. “Silver Knights can live to be one hundred and twenty. If they become high ministers of the kingdom, no one else will ever get a chance to rise. If I were king, I wouldn’t want my ministers to all be powerful Extraordinary Knights either. Look at His Highness Williams and Her Majesty Catherine—they always have to be so careful around Marquess Golan, terrified the Minister of War will put them to shame.”

“We don’t want the House of Randell to recruit Knights. In fact, you haven’t been preparing to recruit any family Knights, and you’re even more unwilling to accept Sophia’s subordinates… The prosperity of the Randell Fief has a great deal to do with this decision of yours,” Duke York said with a broad smile.

Victor was silent for a moment before nodding his head. “I won’t deny it. Knights are difficult people to manage.”

“Knights are difficult to manage… and Extraordinary Knights are even more so.” Duke York let out a long sigh, then continued, “Of the five most powerful lords in Gambis, Duke Joshua is an apprentice knight, Duke Nimes is a Knight who advanced through potions, Duke Wellington is a scholar noble, and I… I was once a Knight who advanced through potions, but now I’m a regular noble. Only Marquis Sorim is an Extraordinary Knight, and House Sorim is already in decline. Victor, do you know the reason for this?”

Victor’s interest was piqued. He thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Please enlighten me, My lord.”

“Call me Enbise.”

Duke York pushed his food away and called out to a handmaiden, “You there… Ilia, my darling, please take the breakfast away. I need to speak with Viscount Randell alone.” As the handmaiden cleared the table, he reached out and gave her firm, rounded bottom a squeeze.

The beautiful, slender handmaiden flashed the fat duke a flirtatious smile, picked up the remaining food, and turned to leave the room.

Enbise smacked his lips, a look of longing on his face. “What a stunner…” Then, he said fiercely, “Ilia is my darling. Don’t even think about seducing her.”

Victor tried to keep a straight face but couldn’t help but laugh. He could only shake his head and say, “My… Enbise, you’re overthinking things.”

Enbise roared with laughter, and the awkward atmosphere instantly dissipated. After a moment, he returned to the previous topic. “Extraordinary powerhouses have unshakable wills. No matter how wise or smooth they appear, their dominant nature never changes. Every concession on a matter of principle is a heavy blow to them. It’s like two saber-toothed beasts, tooth to tooth, claw to claw. When both have the power to kill the other, how could they possibly get along?”

“House Sorim only has two Great Knights. Copper City’s situation is so dire, yet the other Great Knight is hiding away in Blinor City. Why? Isn’t it just to avoid the unyielding Marquis Sorim?” Duke York said mockingly.

Victor was puzzled. “I don’t understand. Why can’t the old Marquess Sorim tolerate a Silver Knight from his own family?”

“He’s not as fat as I am, so how could he possibly tolerate a Silver Knight?” Enbise squished his fat face into a strange shape, then let go and chuckled. “I think that’s hilarious, don’t you?”

Victor watched speechlessly as the fat on Enbise’s face jiggled. After a long pause, he finally said, “Whatever makes you happy.”

“A Great Knight doesn’t entertain himself just because he’s bored.” Enbise shrugged and spread his hands. “Their actions always put immense pressure on their peers. Even if Marquis Sorim asked the Great Knight of his family to carve him a piece of roast meat, the Great Knight would have to guess the Marquess’s true intentions… And the old Marquess Sorim would likewise ponder the family Great Knight’s every move. The worst part is, almost every Silver Knight can eventually resonate with thirty-six Elemental Nodes. With the same strength and the same nobility, neither will submit to the other… Since there are no Gold Knights in the family, they can only elect a fellow with a low bloodline to be their leader. That’s how primogeniture came to be.”

“What? I thought primogeniture was to maintain the integrity of the family…” Victor muttered.

“But it is to maintain the integrity of the family… A powerful family leader forces Great Knights of the same rank to leave, while the eldest son’s task is to help the family accommodate more Great Knights,” Duke York said with a smile. “Do you think my position as Duke is rather pathetic?”

Victor was silent for a moment, then asked in return, “Why are you telling me all this?”

“What do you think?” Duke York smiled meaningfully, then said candidly, “Victor, you don’t understand the life of a great family. You have a misunderstanding about me… and that’s not good. We should understand each other and clear up any misconceptions.”

“My grandfather, Duke Geoffrey York, was a full nineteen years younger than his wife, the previous Family Guardian—Lady Isabella. No one expected the mediocre Geoffrey to become a Great Knight… This sort of thing happens occasionally; the eldest son of a great family, through relentless pursuit, achieves the rank of Silver Knight.”

“My father wasn’t so lucky. Geoffrey was only sixteen when he was born, not even an apprentice knight, and Isabella was just a senior knight. My father relied on a cleansing potion to barely become an apprentice knight. Later, Geoffrey and Isabella had another girl and a boy. My aunt married into Naville, and in exchange, my mother was married into our family… My uncle is Terlanden. My grandfather was already a Great Knight when he was born, so Terlanden isn’t much older than me.” A nostalgic look appeared on Duke York’s face as he continued, “Although my father was the weakest in terms of strength, he was the eldest son, destined to inherit the York family… He never became Duke York before a spotted tiger took his life.”

Enbise shook his head with a bitter smile. “Actually, my father’s martial skills were excellent, but he refused to believe he had gotten old. He thought the spotted tiger was a little kitten… Isn’t that ridiculous?”

“That’s a tragedy. I’m sorry for what happened to your father,” Victor said sincerely.

“A tragedy? Perhaps. At least he proved the courage of the descendants of the Fang and didn’t let Geoffrey watch his eldest son die of old age in his bed…” Duke York muttered, “My grandfather lived for far too long…”

“Of course, my father lived a wonderful life. He was always busy, with no regrets.” The fat duke perked up and continued, “For the same reason, to keep the family’s Great Knights, Geoffrey handed over the family’s affairs to my father early on. Everyone called him Little Geoffrey, the young Duke York. He loved his children dearly, especially Fredrick, even though he wasn’t his own flesh and blood.”

Enbise glanced at the dumbfounded Victor and grinned mischievously. “Fredrick’s biological father is a certain Highness; I won’t mention his specific name. Without such a deep connection, why would Ulena have married Terlanden? Fredrick knows his own origins. More importantly, he knows he is a scion of the York family, the son of Little Geoffrey, and the younger brother of the current Duke York.”

“Finding it hard to accept the tangled marital relationships of the great families?”

Before Victor could answer, Enbise said gravely, “The family relationships of small family members are simple and stable—but that’s in Gambis, and it’s because Gambis has great families. Go take a look at the Eastern Alliance. Those honorless louts treat their maids’ daughters as maids, as commodities, completely disregarding their own paternal role. This is a pain we cannot bear, a fate we strive to change. We cannot lose our noble Bloodline. Primogeniture came from this.”

Chapter 417: A Pleasure Doing Business (Part 2)

“A human kingdom cannot be without Knights! Bronze Knights come from Silver Knights, Silver Knights come from Gold Knights, and Gold Knights come from the ancient Gold Bloodline.” Duke York paused, looked Victor straight in the eye, and said, “Do you know what a Gold Bloodline is? It produces a Gold Knight in every generation, enough to sustain an empire. The Baselius of three thousand years ago and the Neowist of over a thousand years ago were both Gold Bloodlines.”

“As for a Silver Bloodline, their infants are born with Aura. They’re guaranteed to become Great Knights upon reaching adulthood, and they are born with the ability to stir the Elemental Sea. The royal families of humankind are all of the Silver Bloodline, and every king is at least a Silver Knight. Kings rule their kingdoms with their noble bloodline. They cannot make way for their vassals, which is why the most important ministers in the kingdom are all scholar nobles.”

“The knight’s bloodline of House Sorim is in decline. They have a greater need than the Royal Family for a Great Knight to act as the family leader, to display their own nobility and unite the family.” Duke York shook his head and sighed. “Unfortunately, they cannot bear the price the Royal Family pays, so they can only abandon primogeniture and weed out the weak to keep the strong, hoping for a sliver of a chance to turn things around.”

Victor asked curiously, “What price did the Royal Family pay?”

Duke York answered, “To maintain the purity of their bloodline, members of the Royal Family always wait until they are at the peak of the Silver-rank before having children. Their spouses are often noblewomen with weak bloodlines. Her Highness Roland’s father was a Gold Knight, while Queen Linda was a mere mortal. When Roland was born, she had the platinum hair of the Auguste family’s ancestors, which proves her bloodline is incredibly pure. After giving birth to a powerful heir, Queen Linda’s body grew weaker by the day, and she passed away very early…”

“Wait!” A thought struck Victor, and he pressed, “You just said Queen Linda died because she gave birth to Roland?”

“Yes… A strong father and a weak mother tend to produce outstanding offspring, while a strong mother and a weak father tend to have children who are generally inferior. A mortal’s bloodline always develops first, making it difficult for an ordinary woman to bear a knight’s progeny. That’s why the child must temper their will to become a knight, or use a cleansing potion before the age of eighteen… And should a mortal mother happen to give birth to a pure-blooded knight, she is certain to die young. This is a secret known to all the great families.”

“The Royal Family generally marries noblewomen with low bloodlines from the Royal Capital… The union between King Ryan and Queen Linda was extremely rare, and it was met with unanimous opposition from the nobles of the Royal Capital. Roland’s birth was a resounding slap in their faces. Catherine was only sixteen when she gave birth to Edward and was merely an apprentice knight. She, on the other hand, fit the Royal Family’s criteria for a spouse…” Duke York glanced at Victor strangely and probed, “It seems your birth mother was also the daughter of an ordinary lord, and she passed away when you were two?”

“Yes.” Victor nodded, his face expressionless. “Like Her Highness Roland, I too lost my mother at a young age.”

“No wonder Her Highness Roland is so close to you…” Duke York had a moment of realization, then gave a couple of dry laughs, rubbing his hands together as he offered comfort, “May your mother’s soul bask in the holy light of the Supreme Lord.”

Fellow sufferers? A coincidence?

If he hadn’t seen through Catherine’s identity, if he hadn’t encountered the Wizard raised by the Royal Family, Victor would have believed these were all coincidences. Now, he had to put a question mark on this “coincidence.”

“I don’t even remember what my birth mother looked like…” Victor gave a bitter smile, then nodded. “Enbise, please continue.”

Enbise went on, “Because the Royal Family strives to maintain the purity of their bloodline, their family line is thin, always in danger of being severed. Wasn’t the Neowist’s Gold Bloodline cut off by the Radiant Knights?”

Victor nodded, then suddenly thought of the little king’s betrothal. “That’s not right… Katerina was almost Edward’s wife, and Edward’s current fiancée, Margaret Wellington, is also a high-ranking female knight… How do you explain that?”

Duke York was silent for a moment before shaking his head. “Her Highness Sylvia changed the fates of many… Besides, with so many court ladies in the royal palace, do you think His Majesty Edward fears having no outstanding heir?”

“Ah… That makes sense.”

“The great families like ours are of the Bronze Bloodline. Ordinary Knights are the main strength of the family, while the family’s Silver Knights ensure the continuation of the knight’s bloodline, and at the same time, we aspire to a Silver Bloodline. But because the Bronze Bloodline is too convoluted, our Silver Knights cannot touch the Elemental Sea and can only resort to the Trial of Life and Death.”

“The union of strong and weak avoids friction and forms a stable family structure…” Victor nodded, unable to resist asking, “Enbise, if I may be presumptuous, what about your mother?”

“As I said, Her Highness Sylvia changed the fates of many.”

Duke York laughed nonchalantly. “Old Geoffrey cleared the way for the family’s new Guardian, not hesitating to break The Agreement. He compensated Lady Dori with all the Mithril the family had in storage. Lady Dori then used the Mithril as her dowry and became the intimate companion of a certain highness.”

“That… uh…” Victor stammered, “Enbise, did you ever love… Katerina?”

“Katerina? Heh.” The portly duke shook his head with a smile. “I was once deeply in love with Audel Branstett. She was supposed to be my wife. When she was to marry Fredrick, we both cried… Don’t you laugh, I used to be a handsome and charming noble knight. After she married, Audel would still look at me with tender affection. Fredrick could grind his teeth in anger, but it was no use.”

“And then later… Audel started looking at me like I was a fat pig,” Enbise said dejectedly. “There are no mortals in the eyes of a High-ranked Knight.”

Victor sat up straight, his eyes blazing as he asked, “Then do you still love ‘her’?”

Duke York shot Victor a meaningful glance and retorted, “Do you really think mortals are the weak ones? Do you truly believe I am merely a puppet for the High-ranked Knights?”

“In your eyes, the high-ranking female knights are stunningly beautiful. They are women first, and knights second. But in my eyes, they are the family’s precious power, and I am the one who wields that power.” Enbise rapped the table and waved his hand with an imposing air. “These weren’t my words. They were Duke Geoffrey York’s instructions and advice to me before he departed, spoken in front of Sylvia and the other High-ranked Knights.”

“After Geoffrey’s one hundred and fourteenth birthday, he shut himself in his room, refusing all food and drink, not thinking, not speaking, for a full fifteen days. We knew his time had come. Sylvia personally broke the door latch. I saw a stone statue, just like Geoffrey’s statue in the cemetery. The statue cracked before my very eyes, turning to dust that fell to the floor. Geoffrey was sitting perfectly fine in his chair, still as young and handsome as ever. He smiled and asked me, ‘Enbise, do you still want to become a High-ranked Knight?’ Did I want to? I once did, but at that moment, all I felt was sorrow and fear…”

Duke York rose with difficulty, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression serene as he spoke: “Enbise, when you no longer fear the cold, you cannot appreciate the warmth of a bearskin coat. When you have not suffered from hunger, you will not know the joy of a delicious meal. When you are far from old age and sickness, you forget the beauty of youth and the bliss of health. Without these, what do you have left? What else could you possibly pursue?”

“We have gained power, but we have lost far more, because we need so little… Remember, an Extraordinary Knight is the family’s power. You are the Duke of the York family. You must revere this power, treat this power well, and use this power correctly… Duke Geoffrey bathed and changed, and Bishop Monica personally presided over a prayer of holy light for him. He donned his Mithril armor, took up his Tusk Sword, and, escorted by Sacred Warriors, headed for the Twilight Forest in the Kingdom of Sus. From then on, there was no news of him.”

Enbise’s powerful, resonant voice echoed in the room until it faded into silence. Victor was speechless for a long time.

“And that is the truth. There is a vast chasm between Extraordinary Knights and mortals, a chasm that severs their connection to the mundane world. The people of Dodor needed aid to resist the Sasan Empire. Duke Geoffrey said, ‘Alright, we’ll give them aid,’ and then he paid it no more mind. It was my father who mobilized ten thousand cattle, fifty thousand sheep, three thousand sets of leather armor, one thousand suits of chainmail, five thousand spears, two-hundred thousand fletched arrows… The King would not do these things, Marquess Golan would not do them, but Grand Vizier Bastern would… I would!”

“This is the deeper reason why scholar nobles serve as important ministers in the kingdom, and why the eldest son inherits the family!”

Duke York squeezed back into his chair, sat down, and said with a grin, “Her Highness Sylvia demanded that Goldwater City support the Rand Territory with grain and raw iron. The specific orders were issued by me. The stewards, aides, soldiers, apprentice knights… Her Highness can’t even be bothered to glance at them. They obey only the orders of the Duke of York.”

“The reason I can sit in this position is because of the rules set by the High-ranked Knights, but they created these rules to meet the needs of mortals. The Duke has never been a puppet. Duke is a position, Duchess is a position, and Guardian is also a position. These positions have nothing to do with love or family relationships; they have their own set of rules.”

“Victor. In the Centaur Hills, I am the only one who can truly help you. Fredrick and Audel are completely useless…” Duke York said with great enthusiasm. “And you are the one who can help me the most. Your water project, your Two-headed Lizard Merchant Guild… they have all helped me strengthen my control over the family… Although we haven’t spoken much, we’ve always cooperated well. Because I know how to get things done, I understand your way of thinking best, and you understand my abilities. For example, the Copper Sol… A ten-percent share of minted Copper Sols must be paid to the Church, and another twenty-percent to the King, with the rest for yourself. Add in the costs of labor, transport, fuel… all things considered, you operate at a loss, never a profit. However, the Copper Sol is different from the Silver Sol. It represents the value of raw copper and is not tied to the Gold Sol. Therefore, the price of copper is the Copper Sol’s bottom line; it is destined not to depreciate… According to your view, as the purchasing power of the Copper Sol increases, it will appreciate! This way, minting Copper Sols becomes profitable. We must get our hands on the right to mint Copper Sols before the King and the other lords realize what’s happening! We will use Copper Sols and your new copper coins to earn money from the common folk. Individually, they’re paupers, but all together, they’re a force to be reckoned with… There are over seven thousand shanties outside Goldwater City. For a month’s rent, a refugee has to pay The Cabbages eight Copper Sols… Let me calculate how much that is in a year… Never mind, in short, the refugees are very rich!”

Victor sucked in a cold breath. He finally understood why he detested Duke York. Besides the matter with Sylvia, this pragmatic fat man was too astute. Victor even suspected that Enbise could figure out his entire grand scheme from just a few subtle clues.

Thank goodness I’m planning to pull the York family into The Golden Company… Victor celebrated inwardly.

Victor’s expression remained wooden, as if unmoved by his words. Enbise grew anxious. He slammed his hand on the table and said, “Your High… that is… Katerina should not be an obstacle to our cooperation… None of the high-ranking female knights in the family are obstacles to our cooperation. Fine! I’ll be blunt. The problem lies with you.”

“Huh?” Victor snapped out of his thoughts and stared blankly at the portly duke before him.

“Barbarians like mates of their own kind, high-ranking female knights also like mates of their own kind, and I too only like mates of my own kind. In their eyes, you are one of them. They smile at you, but they won’t smile at Enbise. To me, Katerina is like a piece of bone-chilling ice. This is the will she expresses to Enbise. At the same time, she is an extraordinary power of the family, so she will smile at the Duke of York. But a peer like you connects them to the mortal world, which is exactly what the high-ranking female knights need. Through you, they can experience the joys and sorrows they have gradually forgotten… and this gives you the illusion that they are all helpless, frail noblewomen who need protection.”

“I know… they are strong. That’s not my problem at all… Damn it, what I mean is, I’m not troubled at all!” Victor yelled in frustration.

“My name is not ‘Dammit’,” Enbise shook his head. “Knowing is one thing, understanding is another.” A cunning glint shone in his eyes. He chuckled. “Three days… Trisley is lukewarm towards you. If you were to truly pursue her, within three days, I guarantee she’d be inseparable from you. But why haven’t you pursued her? And why hasn’t she pursued you?”

“Because you see Trisley as a woman, but Trisley is first and foremost a powerhouse. She can control her emotions. The family’s high-ranking female knights like to tease you. They’re just having a bit of fun, proving their charm and existence, and don’t actually have any untoward intentions. It’s like when a beautiful handmaiden walks by, the household guards will always take a second look, out of pure appreciation. It’s only if you show interest that an extraordinary female knight might accept your courtship.”

“But you, with the mindset of love from a minor family, think of possessing them and establishing a stable family relationship. You forget that they are extraordinary powerhouses, born free, and do not like to be dominated…”

Victor’s head was starting to ache from the lecture. He extended a hand and said, “A pleasure doing business with you!”

“A pleasure doing business with you!”

Enbise, still in his chair, leaned his massive body forward and firmly shook Victor’s hand, then started chattering away again, “The Pope says you now have a top-tier Silver Bloodline… In short, you are no mortal… Don’t be bound by mortal concepts of marriage. Of the family’s high-ranking female knights, you can have a child with whomever you want… Katerina seems to see you as a younger brother, but that’s fine. Remember my words, in three days you’ll be…

Victor watched the babbling Duke of York with pity.

“In three days, I’ll be what?”

Katerina pushed open the door and shot Duke York a cold glare that froze him on the spot. Then she turned to Victor with a radiant smile and said, “My dear brother Wil, it’s time for us to depart.”

Chapter 418: Nature and Love

Katerina was dressed very formally in a sky-blue duchess’s gown that accentuated her lovely figure while remaining dignified and elegant. A touch of light makeup made her already beautiful features even more radiant and captivating. Her fair, smooth, oval face held the faintest hint of a smile, and her every move was poised and graceful. Even the most discerning court lady would have found no fault.

However, this was not a formal audience, but a private meeting initiated by Princess Royal Roland.

Blue Taro could effectively alleviate the phenomenon of the Elemental Sea eroding the soul, making its discovery of great significance to Gold Knights. But its rarity meant it could never be popularized as a delicacy. Furthermore, if Gambis wanted to monopolize this precious marsh resource, they had to process the Blue Taro into a potion to prevent others from discovering its true form. After all, the Centaur Hills was not the only part of the Great Marsh that humans had explored. In the Eastern Alliance, a large group of marsh hunters made a living by gathering resources from the Nidam Great Marsh.

Sylvia and Roland had reached an agreement. The Centaur Hills would provide the raw materials, and the Royal Family’s apothecaries would be responsible for developing the potion. The two parties would then split all the Blue Taro potions equally.

This agreement concerned the vital interests of the three Highnesses of Gambis, so naturally, the fewer people who knew about it, the better.

Roland had summoned Victor for an audience under the pretense of meeting a friend. This way, the gifts he carried would not have to be inspected and registered by the Aerie Fortress Household Department.

Victor was responsible for transporting the first batch of Blue Taro and finalizing the details of the potion’s distribution. He had originally thought Sylvia would send a family apothecary disguised as his attendant. He never expected Katerina to be proficient in potion-making. She was the special envoy appointed by Sylvia, responsible for overseeing the manufacturing process and output ratio of the Blue Taro potion, to determine exactly how many vials could be made from one pound of Blue Taro.

Sylvia clearly didn’t want Victor to stay in Aerie Fortress for several days. She didn’t mind if the high-ranking female knights of Aerie Fortress rekindled old flames with her paramour, nor was she worried that Victor would fall at their feet and forget to come home. The Queen of Roses had enough confidence in her own charm.

Viscount Randell becoming overly familiar with Aerie Fortress would give other families the wrong impression. Given the current favorable situation, Sylvia was doing her utmost to avoid sending the wrong political signals.

As a good friend of the princess, Katerina had ample reason to stay in Aerie Fortress for a few days.

Because it was a private meeting, Victor and Katerina did not enter the inner court of Aerie Fortress through the Knight’s Hall. An attendant from the Household Department led them to a lounge in the outer fortress.

Angelina was very unhappy about this, her small mouth pouting the whole time. She had been hoping to admire the scenery of Aerie Fortress’s rear gardens.

Although the Household Department had arranged for them to wait in the outer bailey of the royal palace for their audience with Her Highness the Princess Royal, this lounge was where key members of the Royal Family had always entertained the Royal Capital’s marquesses with whom they were close. The room was decorated in warm tones, the furniture featured curved lines, and the layout emphasized comfort and intimacy. There were no stiffly dressed, serious-faced attendants here. Hosts and guests could move about freely, talking and laughing loudly without worrying about excessive formalities.

Angelina stood with her hands behind her back, enthusiastically examining a huge mural on the wall.

The painting depicted the famous Battle of the Three Forks River. The founder of the Auguste dynasty—the Legendary Knight Fordring Auguste—had slain the Gnoll King Loguls in the Three Forks River basin of Brinol, laying the foundation for the Iris-Sparrow family.

The artist’s skill was exquisite. Not only were the eight Pioneering Knights depicted vividly, but the relationships between them were also subtly indicated.

Fordring stood with eight knights—four women and three men—raising their longswords high, their feet resting on a massive Gnoll. The four female knights were young ladies from the Bastern, Ludwig, Grehwald, and Leopold families. The other three male knights were sons of the Nim, Joshua, and Wellington families.

The platinum-blonde Fordring stood in the center, a smug smile on his lips, his eyes full of a passion for life and an exuberant curiosity. The four distinctive female knights crowded around him, glaring at one another as if fighting for the spot next to their beloved, completely ignoring the Gnoll King beneath their feet. As for Nim, Joshua, and Wellington, one was throwing his head back in laughter, another was solemnly examining the formidable enemy at his feet, and the last was clutching his chest with a look of relief.

In the eyes of a lord, this painting symbolized that the four great marquesses were connected to the Iris-Sparrow family by blood, intermarrying for generations to maintain the purity of the royal bloodline. The Nim, Joshua, and Wellington families, as followers of Auguste, shared an unbreakable bond with Aerie Fortress. The Wimbledon, York, and Sorim families, however, were latecomers and thus did not appear in the painting.

But in Anna’s eyes, she saw an epic, legendary battle and a moving love story.

Fordring, an illegitimate child without even a noble surname, had carved a path with his sword, overcoming all obstacles to reach the legendary realm and claim a rich Pioneer Fief. With his noble bloodline and sincere heart, he had won the undying loyalty of the sons of great families and the devoted love of noblewomen, ultimately establishing the Auguste royal family.

Anna stared at the figures in the mural, her pretty face sometimes breaking into a smile, sometimes furrowing her brow, her young girl’s heart lost in thought.

Victor leaned back in a deerskin sofa chair, his legs propped up on the coffee table. He glanced at the youthful, lively Angelina, then at the properly seated Katerina, and couldn’t help but say, “My Lady Katerina, don’t you think you’re being a bit too serious? There’s no one here…”

“Call me sister!” Katerina’s grayish-green eyes glanced over, her tone a mix of feigned anger and delight.

Victor was taken aback for a moment, then flatly refused. “I’m sorry, but I can’t bring myself to call a noble lady in the prime of her youth ‘sister’.”

“My dear Wil, your mouth is as sweet as honey. No wonder so many noble ladies in the prime of their youth are always eager for a taste,” Katerina said with a delicate laugh, covering her mouth. As a noblewoman from a great family who had borne two children, her teasing was even sharper than Victor’s.

Victor would have been happy to flirt with the beautiful high-ranking female knight to pass the time, but there was a twelve-year-old girl in the room. He could only give a wry smile and remind her, “Katerina, my wife’s student is here. You can’t…”

“Don’t mind me… I didn’t hear a thing.” Anna’s eyes darted around, then she suddenly turned back and said, “If you think I’m in the way, I can go for a walk…”

“Dream on! Aerie Fortress is huge, you’ll get lost,” Victor said, shaking his head.

“I can ask a guard for directions,” Anna said self-righteously. Seeing Victor’s stern face, she added in a small voice, “I’ll be very polite.”

“Even the palace guards get lost. And there’s only one fate for those who get lost in the royal palace—they become non-existent people… No one has ever seen them, no one has ever heard of them, as if they were fictional characters made up out of thin air… I certainly wouldn’t want the lovely Anna to become a non-existent person… All right, I think you understand what I mean,” Victor threatened.

“But you promised you’d show me the beautiful sights of Aerie Fortress,” Anna accused her guardian of breaking his word.

Victor replied righteously, “This is Aerie Fortress. I’ve kept my promise. I brought you in, and I’ll take you out in one piece. Now, please find a chair, sit down, and chat with us like a proper young lady.”

“You just said Aunt Katerina was too serious…” Anna pouted, throwing herself into a high-backed armchair. She propped her finely crafted leather boots right onto the coffee table and said, “Let’s talk about something interesting!”

Seeing their two comfortable, relaxed postures, Katerina said in annoyance, “It’s all Roland’s fault, insisting I wear formal attire…”

“You could roll up your skirt. Then you could use the coffee table,” Victor suggested helpfully.

“No! The dress will get wrinkled.”

Katerina rejected Victor’s suggestion and complained again, “Why is it that a lady’s formal wear is a dress, while you men can wear trousers? I think we should switch. Let you men try wearing dresses for a change.”

“Yes, yes, and high heels…” Anna chimed in enthusiastically, agreeing with Katerina’s point.

“Because ladies love beauty,” Victor said calmly.

Katerina raised a slender eyebrow and retorted, “And men don’t? If men don’t love beauty, why do they demand that women have long, flowing hair, wear jewelry, and dress in skirts? Look at the ancestors of the four great marquesses. They were knights, they fought in the Battle of the Three Forks River, so why couldn’t they have short hair like the male knights? It’s because men like beautiful women. Even a female knight must use her beauty to please her partner.”

“That’s very unfair,” Anna said with a nod.

“This is an interesting question.” Victor rubbed his smooth chin, pondered for a moment, then asked, “Would you want to cut your long hair?”

Katerina and Anna looked at each other and shook their heads almost in unison.

“You see, that’s the heart of the matter,” Victor said, spreading his hands with a smile. “Men certainly like beautiful women, and women are equally concerned with their own beauty, using it to please their beloved. This difference is actually caused by human nature.”

“It’s like strong male bears. They usually守 their territory and avoid other predators as much as possible, because an injury from a fight could prevent them from hunting, leading to starvation. But during the brown bear’s mating season, the males become exceptionally fierce. They fight and bite each other to compete for a mate, and these conflicts are often fatal. In other words, a male bear will risk his life for a female. You see, for the male, the instinct to reproduce is stronger than the instinct to survive. Of course, a mother bear can also overcome her fear of death to protect her cubs, confronting a strong, unfamiliar male.”

“Interestingly, if the male bear kills the cubs, most mother bears won’t fight to the death. They will choose to accept the tragic outcome.”

“Docile herbivores, fierce beasts, and even intelligent races have similar natures, including us humans.”

“Victor, how can you compare animals to us humans? We have familial love, friendship… and romantic love! Do animals have that?” Anna bared a set of small white teeth and yelled angrily.

A little brat talking about love… Victor looked at Anna’s petite but well-proportioned figure and suddenly remembered that, by Earth’s standards, she was already eighteen years old. It was just that people in this world developed more slowly, and those with a knight’s bloodline grew even slower. But there was no doubt that Anna was now a young maiden.

He suddenly had a bad feeling… Could it be that Anna had fallen for that Edward kid at first sight?

“Angelina, you’re not of age yet… You can only start thinking about love after you turn fifteen.” Victor fell silent for a moment, feeling that such a blunt method of education was a bit inappropriate. After some thought, he added, “However, as an apprentice knight… and a future Extraordinary powerhouse, I feel it’s necessary to discuss Lady Sylvia’s views on human nature with you.”

“Okay!”

Anna cheered, lowering her long, straight legs. She sat up straight, ready to listen attentively. Katerina also pricked up her ears.

Victor cleared his throat and explained Sylvia’s theory of humanity’s three natures in one, but he changed “bestial instinct” to the more acceptable term “nature.” He paused, then continued, “A male noble’s formal attire is designed for mobility, for drawing a sword—in short, it’s designed for combat. A noblewoman’s gown is the opposite. It’s designed purely for beauty and elegance, with no regard for fighting. This shows that men are naturally prepared for battle, while women are naturally meant to be protected… A man’s rivals include not only monsters but also his own kind, and their struggles with their own kind are often for a beautiful woman, nominally to defend their dignity and love… This is fully reflected in the public order records of Laketon.”

“Nobles and Knights will also draw swords on each other for their beloved, and even High-ranked Knights are no exception. Although such behavior among High-ranked Knights is strictly forbidden, it can’t be completely eradicated. The most famous duel of love occurred between Sword Saint Draven and the Grand Commander of the Radiant Knights.”

“At the time, Draven and Alijie already had a child together, and he had proven he wasn’t a Wizard. But Grand Commander Trigovar, to defend his own dignity, challenged Draven to a knight’s duel. Perhaps out of guilt, or perhaps to protect Alijie’s reputation, Draven readily agreed and gave up his bow, which he was best at. You must understand, if Draven had used a bow, Trigovar wouldn’t have stood a chance. But for Draven to face a legendary paladin with dual swords, the possibility of him losing his life was much greater… The danger of close-quarters combat meant neither side could hold back, and it would inevitably end with one of them falling… In the end, Draven won, and he earned the title of Sword Saint.”

Anna said with no small amount of envy, “Alijie is so happy…”

“She must have been in so much pain…” Katerina shook her head and sighed.

Anna’s delicate face scrunched up. After struggling for a long moment, she nodded decisively. “Painful, but happy!”

Victor shook his head with a laugh and asked, “In the future, will you duel another female knight for a man?”

Anna made a face and rolled her eyes. “Dream on!”

“Exactly,” Victor said, jutting his chin toward the mural. “The ancestors of the four great marquesses all loved Fordring. In the end, they shared him, and they all bore the fruit of his love. That is the difference between men and women.”

“Let’s say the situation were reversed: men wore dresses, and women fought for men while having multiple male partners. But a woman’s pregnancy lasts eight months, and she only gives birth to one or two children a year… How can she defend her home and compete for a mate while heavily pregnant and caring for children? If the number of women were to plummet, the entire race would be finished!”

“Therefore, men fight to protect their homes, winning women’s hearts with their strength, while women avoid combat for the continuation of the race, capturing male partners with their beauty.”

Anna nodded, as if she partly understood. She suddenly jumped up, one hand on her hip, the other pointing at Victor. “You look down on female knights! I’m going to tell Aunt Sylvia… and Tutor Sophia!”

“No! Women are far greater, more resilient, and more noble than men…” Victor shook his head and said to the aggressive girl, “Even if you go and tattle, I still won’t let you run around the palace!”

Like a punctured leather ball, Anna deflated and slumped back onto the sofa. “Barbarians aren’t like that,” she said, unconvinced. “Raegzo is super fierce.”

Victor smiled slightly and explained, “A man’s strength comes from his mother, so women also have a formidable side. However, races where women are keen on battle are all weak. The barbarians’ physiques are naturally stronger than humans’. They have several hundred Gold-rank Urus, and probably no fewer than one thousand Berserkers with Gold-rank combat strength. Humans, on the other hand, only have a few dozen Gold Knights. This is a difference caused by racial talents and standards for measuring strength. To give you an analogy, a very small number of exceptional hounds can kill a brown bear, while most dire wolves can hunt brown bears. But the number of dire wolves is too small, and they are in constant danger of extinction. They pose no threat to the numerous, cooperative hounds. The barbarians seem to live for battle. Their social structure is deformed, their population is no more than two hundred thousand. In terms of racial potential, they are not even on par with Goblins.”

“How could we humans have allied with the barbarians if we weren’t absolutely certain of our superiority? And where we humans are stronger than the barbarians is in our women, who are not only beautiful but also great. They have unified human society.”

“Victor, your eloquent demeanor is like that of a wise scholar and master…” Katerina’s eyes were full of admiration and her voice was gentle, but her tone shifted as she pursed her lips in a smile. “So, noblemen can have multiple beautiful partners at the same time, while great noble ladies can only have one lover at a time? Why do I feel like you’re deliberately elevating women to make excuses for your own philandering?”

Anna nodded emphatically, looking at Victor with disdain.

Facing their skepticism, Victor’s expression didn’t change. He said in all seriousness, “That is not my point… As powerful Knights, you have complete freedom… But who can place their will above Sylvia’s? Even she is conforming to nature to avoid excessive erosion from the Elemental Sea. Alijie, three thousand years ago, was also a legendary paladin. She had the power to stop the duel between Draven and Trigovar, but she didn’t. This is also an Extraordinary Knight’s respect for human nature.”

Katerina’s smile vanished. She turned to Anna and warned her solemnly, “Anna, if high-ranking female knights don’t understand how to conform to nature, the knightly class will perish. If you become a High-ranked Knight in the future and don’t understand the value of humanity, you won’t live to be one hundred, much less aspire to the Gold realm!”

Anna nodded in a daze, her hands cupping her chin. “But I don’t want to share my lover with anyone at all…” she said worriedly.

Katerina let out a long sigh and said wistfully, “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that… Under normal circumstances, you will enjoy a pure and beautiful love. Once you become a Silver Knight, your views on love will change… unless you get involved in the love between extraordinaries prematurely…” As she spoke, she shot Victor a harsh glare and said with self-pity, “Sometimes, pain is also a precious experience for us.”

Victor shrugged as if to say it had nothing to do with him, adding silently in his head: I just hope the object of Anna’s affection isn’t the little king!

“In the future, once we’ve defeated all our rivals, the human kingdoms will promote a system of monogamous marriage. Although its effectiveness is hard to say, the moral concept of marriage will undergo a huge transformation,” Victor said comfortingly. He stood up, straightened his clothes, and said lightly, “I hear footsteps approaching… five people… ah, it’s Edward and his four Sworn Knights.”

Anna shot to her feet, frantically smoothing out her clothes, even though there was nothing to fix on her simple and elegant Knight’s Squire uniform.

“Huh? There’s another person’s footsteps… very light, yet crisp. It’s the sound of crystal shoes… It must be a high-ranking female knight, but not Her Highness Roland. She wouldn’t let me hear her approach.”

Victor shook his head, surprised to see that Katerina was also prepared.

But what’s with that combativeness in your eyes?

Chapter 419: Political Marriage and Love

Before long, a series of footsteps stopped in the hallway outside. A moment later, a polite knock sounded at the door.

The three people in the lounge were already prepared. Victor spoke up, “Come in.”

Five youths filed in one by one. First was the shield-bearer from the Bastern family. He carefully surveyed the room, then gave a steady nod to those behind him, signaling that it was safe. Next, the sword-wielding knight from the Leopold family flanked Edward’s side, while the bow-wielding knight from the Grehwald family and the knight-equerry from the Ludwig family followed close behind.

The young knights’ performance was impeccable, but Victor could see the traces of rehearsal, and the element of a game.

After all, they were not yet thirteen, an age of soaring youthful energy.

His adult sense of superiority gave Victor a condescending perspective as he observed the young king and his knights.

Well, perhaps it was disdain, and if he dug deeper, it would become jealousy.

The young king was dressed in tight-fitting leather hunting attire. Exquisitely crafted, hawk-shaped gold epaulets fastened a white, half-length cape. On his feet were high-topped leather boots, the whole ensemble making him look tall and sharp, exuding a heroic air.

Edward had inherited the handsome features of the Auguste family, but his exposed skin was lightly tanned. His hands were rather rough, with many calluses between his fingers and palms—traces left from long practice with various weapons. Combined with his full forehead, high-bridged nose, and tightly pressed lips, he gave an impression of tenacity and perseverance, while his sincere and passionate eyes made him as warm and pure as the morning dawn.

This kid is really handsome… Victor praised silently.

When Victor had first transmigrated, he had been particularly astonished by the otherworldly beauty of Sophia and the high-ranking female knight, a beauty that almost reached the retouched effect of Earth’s photography technology. It was only later that he realized that as Extraordinary Knights approached Oneness with Nature, their appearances became outstanding. Even Marquess Goron, who deliberately kept his scars, had a sense of rugged perfection.

However, an Extraordinary Knight’s appearance was a reflection of their mind and will. Unless they took the initiative to show goodwill, they always exuded an inviolable dignity or sanctity.

Edward and his young knights were radiantly handsome and full of heroic spirit. Their vibrant, upward-striving youthful energy made one instinctively want to be close to them, and the unspoken understanding and trust they shared through their body language was even more enviable. It was like the feeling a child gets, always wanting to join a particular clique.

Deep bonds are forged from childhood. It was no wonder the great families had a tradition of exchanging their underage children as wards. Duke York also had a retinue of fiercely loyal knights, and his claim to have been in love with Audel in his youth was likely not a boast.

Victor collected his thoughts, stepped forward, and bowed. “Your Majesty, good day.” Straightening up, he glanced outside the door and asked with a smile, “Has His Highness Roland not arrived?”

As an extraordinary being of an ancient bloodline, Victor was not required to perform the Vassal’s Salute to the young king in an informal setting. Besides, Edward was not originally part of this private meeting, which made his sudden arrival all the more strange.

“Victor, long time no see.”

“Hello, Big Sister Rinna.”

Edward didn’t answer Victor’s question, simply offering a smiling greeting before turning his gaze to Angelina. He said enthusiastically, “Anna! I heard from the Household Department that you’d arrived at Aerie Fortress, so I came especially to see you! It’s so wonderful that you came to see me!”

“Your Majesty, I didn’t come to see you…” Anna wrinkled her nose slightly, pouted her petal-like lips, and lifted her chin, speaking with feigned arrogance. But the corners of her lips turned up, and her beautiful, large eyes curved into crescents, unable to hide her delight.

Edward stared dazedly at the girl, stunned. It wasn’t until Anna rolled her eyes at him that he snapped out of it. The young king blushed and stammered, “Ah? You didn’t come to see me? Oh, that doesn’t matter. In any case, you’re here… I promised I’d take you to see the menagerie at Aerie Fortress… It’s full of all kinds of ferocious beasts… Oh, right, let me introduce you to my four good friends first.”

“Miss York, hello. I am Edward’s equerry, Ebenezer Ludwig… Edward said there are crabs in the Great Marsh west of the Centaur Hills that are bigger than tea tables and taste delicious… Is that true?”

“When did I say they were as big as tea tables? I said they were bigger than a silver basin…” Edward hurriedly corrected.

“Miss York, I am His Majesty the King’s sword-wielding knight, Mirshak Leopold. You can call me Mik… By the way, may I call you Anna?”

The four young apprentice knights crowded around Anna, eagerly introducing themselves. Victor and Katerina, who had been ignored by the king, looked at each other in dismay.

What was going on?

When Victor first met Edward, the little prince was just over two years old, equivalent to a four-year-old boy on Earth. And Katerina had watched Edward being born. Edward’s memories of his childhood playmates and fiancée were vague, so naturally, he didn’t feel any deep affection for Victor or Katerina.

Besides, Katerina had once changed the boy’s wet trousers, and he had even wiped his drool on Victor. For the young king, these were embarrassing incidents he wished no one would ever mention.

In comparison, a radiant and charming girl of his own age was far more appealing.

The question was, when had Edward and Anna met?

Victor recalled that Edward had once visited the Centaur Hills. According to etiquette, the direct descendants of the York family had to host the young prince. Edward had probably met Anna, who was of noble bloodline and similar age, at that time and struck up a friendship.

Edward lived in Aerie Fortress. His mother was the Queen, and his sister was a Gold Knight. Both his fiancées had been daughters of great lords. He was surrounded by either strong-willed adult Knight-Nobles or attendants who were utterly deferential to him. Growing up in this environment, Edward was particularly adept at acting cute and obedient around high-ranking women, yet he longed for companions with whom he could interact as an equal. And Angelina, with her prominent status, had almost no peers of her own age within the York family. When the proud Angelina met the easy-going young prince, the two naturally became good friends.

Twelve is an age when it’s hard to tell the difference between friendship and love. When the young boy and girl were reunited after a long separation, it was inevitable that they would blush and their hearts would race, with feelings of affection budding between them.

Anna and Edward exchanged flirtatious glances, their proud yet shy, happy yet sweet expressions inspiring a sense of longing in anyone who saw them.

Victor, however, couldn’t bring himself to feel happy.

First love is pure and beautiful, without a single impurity. Whether on Earth or in this world, there are countless stories celebrating love, and in them, there are always evil parents or wicked older brothers trying to separate the couple who are truly in love. Without exception, they become the villains of the love story, cursed by the world.

However, when it happened to one’s own family, everyone became the “evil parent” or “wicked brother.”

‘If you want to take my precious treasure away, you first need to show sufficient sincerity and have the ability to bear responsibility. Only then can we talk about love.’

Victor was not Anna’s parent or brother. Seeing Edward and Anna making eyes at each other didn’t give him the feeling of his own dear cabbage being rooted up by a pig. But as the lord of the Centaur Hills and the guardian of Angelina Branstat York, Victor felt it was necessary for him to play the “villain” who snuffs out a first love.

Anna was completely unaware that her guardian was preparing to ruin her reunion with Edward. She was enthusiastically asking the young king, “Edward, what’s your prey for this hunt?”

“A very large male bear,” the bow-wielding knight interjected.

“It’s the bully bear of the Minsk mountains. It can eat a lively young bull in one sitting. But the court’s master of the hunt has started reducing its food and will starve it for two more days to make it even fiercer,” the shield-bearer added.

“Don’t worry, I can handle it,” Edward said confidently.

“I’m not worried about you, I’m just worried about the bear. I hope it doesn’t get so scared by the king that its legs turn to jelly. The hunt would be too boring then.” Anna shook her head and chuckled, her radiant little face like a blossoming flower, so beautiful one couldn’t look away.

Perhaps this was why the girl attracted Edward. Other noblewomen of the court would only urge the king to be careful, ignoring the boy’s pride.

Edward stared foolishly at Anna without blinking. Anna shyly lowered her head, then raised it again to shoot him a mock-reproachful sideways glance.

Edward realized his faux pas and puffed out his chest to cover his embarrassment. “I promise it will be a spectacular hunt! Er, when the time comes, I’ll offer you the bear’s tooth… Its teeth are so long and sharp… By the way, would you like to go see it?”

“Oh, yes!” Anna said happily.

Victor could finally bear it no longer. Before Anna and Edward could leave, he stepped forward to stop them. “Your Majesty, please wait!”

Edward paused and asked with feigned curiosity, “Victor, is something the matter? Oh, by the way, Big Sister Roland will be here shortly. Why don’t you and Big Sister Rinna wait a little longer?”

Acting! Keep acting for my benefit! Victor ranted internally. You’re about to run off with the little princess of the York family, and you’re asking me what’s wrong? Doesn’t a king raised in Aerie Fortress know even the most basic courtesy?

While he was ranting internally, Victor maintained an elegant and gentle smile. “I have not received a formal invitation from Aerie Fortress, and neither has Anna.”

“Oh, is that so…” Edward said, as if in a moment of “sudden realization,” nodding his head. “Then I now formally invite Anna to visit the menagerie at Aerie Fortress.” His eyes held a trace of expectation and pleading.

Victor didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but he still shook his head. “Not today. And the person the King summons cannot be Angelina Branstat York.” As he spoke, Victor’s gaze passed over Edward, and he said with authority, “Anna, come back.”

Unfortunately, with his delicate features and refined temperament, Victor’s stern face lacked much intimidating force. Anna pouted and stood her ground, looking woeful. This gave Edward immense confidence. When he looked at Victor again, it was as if he were looking at a rival in love.

Edward stood in front of Anna, puffed out his chest, and said, “Lord Randell, in my name as the King of Gambis, I invite Miss York to visit Aerie Fortress!”

“This is a request from His Majesty the King!” The shield-bearer from the Bastern family took a step forward and said through clenched teeth. But his eyes darted about, not daring to meet Victor’s gaze. Facing an extraordinary being of an ancient bloodline, the young apprentice knight from the Bastern family clearly lacked confidence.

However, all Edward could see was his stalwart back. The other young knights followed suit, stepping forward one by one, encouraging each other, and widening their eyes, trying to force Viscount Randell to give up with their naive glares.

Including Anna, every young apprentice knight here had resonated with eleven Elemental Nodes, making them senior apprentice knights. Moreover, they could step into the Bronze realm at any time. But because the youths’ bodies and minds were not yet fully mature, they had to first temper their physiques and wills, waiting until adulthood before resonating with the remaining Elemental Nodes. Only then would their path as Knights be smoother.

With low base attributes, the enhancement from Aura resonating with Elemental Nodes was very limited. Edward’s current combat ability was not even on par with an adult apprentice knight of a common bloodline.

The five of them combined wouldn’t be enough for Victor to handle with one hand.

Of course, Victor couldn’t discipline the king and his Sworn Knights. Katerina stood to the side, smiling without a word, looking as though she was enjoying the show.

So, Victor decided to watch Edward walk into trouble. He said with feigned difficulty, “Since it is the king’s request… very well, as you wish, Your Majesty.”

Edward was overjoyed. He laughed happily and said, “Victor, thank you. Uh… During the hunt, I’ll treat you to bear ribs.” Then, he took Anna’s small hand and started to walk out.

“Let’s leave quickly, while…”

“Your Majesty, please be mindful of your etiquette.”

With the cool, pleasant voice, a slender and graceful figure appeared in the doorway, blocking Edward and Anna’s path.

This tall young lady wore no jewelry, just a pure white court dress. She had brown hair, light blue eyes, and extremely delicate features. Her skin, white as snow and crystalline, was pale, and her cherry lips were only a faint pink. Combined with her cold temperament, she looked like a beauty carved from ice and snow.

Without a doubt, this was a High-ranked Knight.

Upon seeing her, the four Sworn Knights stood stock-still, silent as cicadas in winter.

“Hi… Margaret… you’re here too…” The young king twisted his stiff neck and gave a dry laugh, but he didn’t let go of Anna’s soft little hand. In fact, he held it even tighter.

Margaret Wellington, the legitimate daughter of the Wellington family, a Silver Knight, Edward Auguste’s fiancée, and the future Queen of Gambis. Her mother was the Guardian of the Wellington family, the Raging Wave Knight Therall Wellington, and her father was Duke Wellington, but her birth father was the Gold Knight, Marquess Goron Auguste.

Ever since Sylvia abducted Katerina, Queen Catherine had proposed a marriage alliance proposal with Duke Wellington. The Duchess of Wellington was unwilling to send the bloodline of a Gold Knight into the royal palace, but Duke Wellington, for political considerations, convinced the Family Guardian to send Margaret to Aerie Fortress to become a powerful supporter for Catherine and her son.

It was precisely because of the special relationship between Margaret and Marquess Goron that the Protector of the Kingdom remained neutral when the princess refused to ascend the throne, objectively supporting Edward’s claim to it.

The Wellington family had paid a great price, but they also reaped rich rewards. Two successive queens were enough to secure the Wellington family’s interests for decades to come, especially in the context of the great pioneering era, where the close relationship between the Wellington family and Aerie Fortress was invaluable.

Margaret’s background was illustrious, but Angelina’s was no less so.

As the little princess of the York family, she also possessed the bloodline of a Gold Knight, held dual inheritance rights to the Branstat and York families, her parents were Great Knights, her aunt was a Spirit Knight, and her guardians were the Marchioness of Wimbledon and an ancient-blooded Moon Elf noble. Most importantly, Edward had given the proud young girl immense courage.

She squeezed the young king’s hand back, a look of naive innocence on her face. “Wow, what a beautiful sister… Edward, is she one of your court ladies?”

Faced with Anna’s provocation, Margaret’s gaze only met Katerina’s for a moment. At some point, Katerina had unleashed her full aura, her bearing and style in no way inferior to the future queen of Gambis. Between the two high-ranking female knights, the young apprentice knights had to stand aside.

Victor finally understood where Katerina’s fighting spirit from a moment ago had come from.

One ex, one current… and Edward was still holding onto another… But why? You already have a child, why are you still competing for the little king’s favor? Is it because you changed his diapers?

Margaret withdrew her gaze and turned to Anna. “Miss York,” she said, coolly and seriously, “I am not one of Edward’s court ladies, but I will certainly be the first woman to sleep with Edward, because I am his fiancée, Margaret Wellington.”

Edward Auguste covered his face with his hands, utterly bewildered along with his Sworn Knights.

Anna: “…”

Katerina: “…”

Victor: “…”

“Your Majesty, a vassal’s vassal is not your vassal. A king should abide by the duty of Respect, must uphold the prestige and reputation of his vassals, and is not permitted to strike a vassal, nor to take liberties with a vassal’s wife or daughter,” Margaret continued.

Under the future queen’s cold gaze, Edward finally let go of Anna and stammered, “Anna is my friend.”

Margaret thought for a moment, then calmly shook her head. “She is not yet of age. Her guardian does not consent to you taking her away.”

Anna and Edward looked at Victor imploringly.

“I indeed cannot agree.” Victor shrugged helplessly.

“Disagree with what?” A head of platinum-blonde hair jumped into Victor’s view as Roland, dressed in hunting attire, appeared charmingly in the doorway.

Tapping her half-heeled leather boots, she bounded over to Katerina and gave her close friend a big hug. “My dear, I’m so happy to see you.”

“Wow, Katerina, you look absolutely gorgeous today. All of Aerie Fortress pales in comparison to your arrival,” Roland exclaimed with exaggeration after releasing her friend. As she spoke, she shot a sidelong glance at Margaret.

Victor had a moment of sudden realization.

Only Roland could pull off something so outrageous. She had specifically called on Katerina to put the future queen in her place, to back up her own brother and vent his frustrations. And for Katerina to have become such a close friend of Roland’s, she must also have a spoiled and willful side.

One could only say that ordinary people could not understand the friendship between these two women… Well, they were two peas in a pod.

Still, for Margaret to be able to push Roland to this extent, she had to be a rare specimen, one in a hundred.

Roland sauntered over to Victor, narrowed her eyes, and held out a fair, slender hand. “Where’s my present?”

“Over there.” Victor pointed to a wooden box on the cupboard. Just as he was about to turn and get it, Roland stepped on his right foot.

The heeled leather boot ground neither lightly nor heavily on Victor’s instep. Roland wrinkled her nose and huffed, “Why didn’t you bring the little cutie?” Her eyes darted, and she added, “Since Beldina isn’t here, I’ll have Angelina keep me company for a few days.”

Victor grimaced in pain and said angrily, “Dream on! Anna must return with me. Katerina can stay with you for two days.”

“Four large hourglasses… I’ll just go see the menagerie at Aerie Fortress and then I’ll go back with you. My lord, please,” Anna pleaded pitifully.

“Victor, I give you my word,” Katerina also began to plead for Anna.

“All right,” Victor finally nodded in agreement.

Roland seized the opportunity to ruffle Victor’s hair twice. She tried to touch his ear, but Victor dodged away.

“Hmph! Stingy.” Roland made a face at Victor, walked over to the cupboard, picked up the wooden box, and said haughtily, “Let’s go.”

Before leaving, the princess said to Margaret, “Help me entertain Viscount Randell… Margaret, if you were willing to smile, you would surely be very beautiful.”

Margaret gave a cold nod but showed no intention of smiling.

After Roland and the others had left the lounge, Margaret walked to within three meters of Victor, took a light breath, and said calmly, “Your Excellency Randell, you smell very nice.”

Victor was speechless. Then he heard her say, “Roland wants you to seduce me.”

“…That is destined to be futile.” Victor retreated to the sofa and couldn’t help but ask, “Miss Wellington, are you always this direct? Er… please, have a seat. You are the host here.”

Margaret found a chair and sat down, still maintaining a three-meter distance from Victor. “What can be said needs no concealment. What cannot be said, I do not say.”

“Hmm, that might not be very endearing… but I respect your ways,” Victor said with a nod.

“Thank you.” Margaret nodded, her expression blank. “His Highness Roland and Edward both dislike me.”

“I don’t see it that way.” Victor shook his head and smiled. “The princess is… very warm to people. If she dislikes someone, she ignores them; she would never deliberately make trouble for them. I would say you’ve piqued her interest. She wants to change you, or perhaps make you happy. As for Edward… I can only say that your attitude and way of speaking put a great deal of pressure on him.”

Margaret watched Victor quietly for a moment before saying, “Edward will be a good husband, a good father, and a good friend. I must also make him a good king, because this is a political marriage. It is my responsibility to groom him.”

“A political marriage can also have love. The descendants of Auguste always pursue love first before considering a political marriage. The way you are acting is making Edward feel very defeated. You could try changing your strategy first, and then groom a good king.”

“But I do not love him now. Not unless he becomes a good king.”

The awkward conversation could not continue. Victor could only fall silent, pretending to simply admire the ice beauty before him.

Just then, the voice of a court attendant announcing a visitor came from outside the door.

“Her Majesty the Queen Mother has arrived.”

Chapter 420: Fruit and Love

Two quarters of an hour ago.

Soft sunlight filtered through the colorful crystal windows, casting a dreamy, hazy glow over the Queen Mother’s bedchamber.

All sorts of clothes were scattered across the exquisitely carved feather bed, and a dazzling array of dresses were draped over the deerskin sofa and wooden chairs. The large wardrobe, however, was completely empty.

Catherine, wearing only a close-fitting bustier and culottes, stood barefoot on her snowy, jade-like feet before a bright silver mirror.

The mirror, painstakingly polished by court artisans, faithfully reflected a beautiful woman with an enchanting figure and skin like jade. Catherine smiled faintly at her reflection, then stood on her toes and spun halfway around before furrowing her delicate brows. She muttered to herself, “I’m not tall enough, I need a pair of high heels… but not too high… just half an inch shorter than Victor would be perfect. Yes, I’ll wear those bright silver high heels… My chest isn’t full enough either… What kind of dress should I pair with those heels to hide this flaw?”

“Countess Ariel, I need your advice,” Catherine commanded without turning her head.

“My dear Catherine, your bosom is perfectly shaped. It is by no means a flaw.”

A court lady in a floor-length gown appeared behind Catherine. Her fiery red lips drew close to Catherine’s ear as she whispered teasingly, “As for what dress to wear… it would be best to wear nothing at all!”

Catherine jumped in fright. Seeing the mischievous smile on the face of her confidant and close friend, she felt both flustered and annoyed, shooting her a fierce glare. But then she burst out laughing, pressing a hand to her burning cheek and saying in a near whisper, “It’s not time for that yet… I have to mend my relationship with Victor first.”

“Your Majesty, what does you taking a bath have to do with Victor?” Ariel asked with a “confused” look, then added in feigned shock, “You… you want to invite Victor to tour the inner court’s bathhouse?”

“Ariel!”

Catherine stamped her foot in frustration, gritting her teeth. “I’m being serious with you!” Then, she reached out and pinched the court lady, and the two of them instantly dissolved into laughter.

After a moment of playful roughhousing, Countess Ariel tidied her messy hair, her smile fading. She advised, “Catherine, what I mean is, you shouldn’t go see Victor.”

“We haven’t wronged Victor. He was the one who betrayed Aerie Fortress. As the mistress of Aerie Fortress, you have no reason to summon a traitorous attendant, let alone go to him willingly and humbly to ‘mend’ your relationship. Even if he is now the lord of the Randell Fief, a noble Moon Elf.”

“Betrayal? I don’t think that word should be used for Victor,” Catherine analyzed calmly.

“All of his men were killed, and even Lord Abel, whom I sent to retrieve him, didn’t dare to take him away. In such a dangerous situation, Victor remained perfectly calm. His response was truly impressive. Besides…” A sweet smile bloomed on her lovely face, her tone filled with relief and a hint of pride, “he did not remain at Black Fortress, and he later refused the York family’s recruitment.”

“Sylvia wanted to turn Victor into a vassal lord of the York family. She was even willing to give up the mining rights to two refined iron ore mines for it. At the time… we had almost given up on him.” Catherine lowered her head and bit her lip, her voice turning gentle. “In any case, Victor is now a lord of Gambis and a Vassal of the King. He may rely on the York family, but which independent lord who started as an attendant of Aerie Fortress doesn’t rely on their powerful neighbors?”

Have your emotions clouded your wisdom?

Ariel sighed inwardly, then said with a smile, “The moment I speak ill of Victor, you immediately find so many reasons to defend him. It’s clear you’ve been thinking about this for a long time, but you only want to reach conclusions that absolve Viscount Randell, thereby convincing yourself that Victor still holds a measure of respect and love for Aerie Fortress and for Her Majesty the Queen, that he was merely forced by circumstance to…”

“Enough!”

Catherine cut the Countess off, declaring resentfully, “Yes, I am making excuses for Victor! But it’s not just to convince myself… You should know that both Victor and I need a ladder to approach one another.” After a pause, Catherine’s tone softened. “Victor lived in Aerie Fortress for six years. I think… he must still hold some lingering affection for this place.”

“My dear Catherine, just look at yourself right now.” Ariel placed her hands on Catherine’s shoulders, gesturing toward the mirror with her chin as she said with a grin, “The mere mention of Victor makes your eyes light up with excitement, and you defend him at every turn… like a diligent gardener, wanting to show off the ‘fruit’ you’ve cultivated, while not allowing anyone to speak a single bad word about it, and terrified that your ‘fruit’ might be stolen… You’ve become sensitive and suspicious, and all the more captivating for it.”

The Countess’s tone then shifted, and she spoke solemnly, “Your Majesty, I must remind you, this ‘fruit’ is not yours alone. Chief Tofwen has toiled his entire life for this ‘fruit,’ and Aerie Fortress has paid a tremendous price. He is destined to belong to the August family!”

The “fruit” Ariel mentioned was a playful term high-ranking female knights used for their young husbands and paramours.

Marriage among the Knight-Nobles was centered on the continuation of the family line and was built upon a stable structure of master and servant, of strong and weak. Knightly families would usually arrange marriage partners for their young scions, allowing them to cultivate deep affection from a young age. But there were always exceptions. Some knights lost their partners for various reasons, such as a couple both advancing to the same extraordinary rank, thereby losing the intimate and stable structure of their marriage, or a spouse meeting with an accident, or a knightly family being unable to find a suitable wardship for a marriage alliance, and so on.

In such situations, male knights could easily find a suitable new partner, but it was more troublesome for female knights, especially Silver female knights without an heir.

If a Silver female knight had no heir, her wealth and lands would inevitably be coveted by all sides, and all manner of troubles would follow. Worst of all, having no heir meant a Silver female knight could not find meaning in her duty of protection. A life without love and family would leave a void, weakening her connection to the physical world. A lonely Silver female knight would be hard-pressed to even break through to the Gold realm, let alone live to be one hundred.

However, the vigor of Gold Knights was limited; they could not handle too many partners. And a proud Silver female knight would never lower herself to pursue a more powerful Gold Knight as a partner.

Being unable to aim high, nor willing to stoop low, was the perfect description of a Silver female knight’s marital dilemma.

Fortunately, high-ranking female knights were as beautiful as flowers, their youth eternal. They had more than enough time to cultivate a suitable lover according to their own wishes.

Single, high-ranking female knights solved the problem of a partner and an heir by adopting the young son of a certain family. For many families, this was undoubtedly a way out for a younger son. The female knights, in turn, derived great pleasure from the process of cultivating their lovers, often teasingly referring to their paramours as their “fruit.”

Those who cultivated “fruit” were generally female lords, court ladies, and Queen Mothers like Catherine.

Catherine had never imagined that she, too, would one day cultivate a “fruit.” As the youngest daughter of Baron Tyrrell, she was born a vine, destined to cling to a great tree for support.

When she first entered Aerie Fortress, the daughter of the Tyrell family was filled with trepidation, but Ryan and Roland helped her quickly adapt to court life. The King’s nobility, his handsome features, his power, his easy-going nature, his humor, his deep affection, and that tiny bit of boyishness fulfilled all of Catherine’s fantasies about a husband. She loved Ryan deeply, loved Roland deeply, loved her family, loved Aerie Fortress, and strove to be a worthy Queen.

However, the towering tree she clung to had fallen without warning. Without the tree’s protection, Catherine immediately felt the malice within Aerie Fortress.

The Four Great Princes had always been vines clinging to the August family. Towards a new vine, they were filled with hostility, unable to wait to be rid of her.

For generations, the Four Great Princes had intermarried with the Augusts, firmly holding the positions of Queen and Prince of Aerie Fortress. The families of nearly all outsider Queens or Princes had been driven from the kingdom’s center of power.

Even an Auguste of pure bloodline like Roland was criticized by the Royal Capital’s nobles because of his maternal family’s background, let alone the Tyrell family, who were backed by Wellington.

The court ladies and attendants in Aerie Fortress almost all came from the families of the Four Great Princes. Their children with the King had no right to the throne, but they could bear the surnames of the princely houses, becoming vassal lords in Gambis, generals in the army, knights of the Household Department, and secret knights. One could say that the kingdom’s center of power, both inside and out, was filled with people from the Four Great Princes, Aerie Fortress included.

The potential of the Four Great Princes was shocking to Catherine. But the intelligent Queen soon realized that the four great families clung not to the King, but to the Silver Bloodline of the August family. Any act that dared to disturb the Silver Bloodline would be met with their strong counterattack.

In reality, the Four Great Princes and the Augusts were essentially one and the same family. This meant that the concepts of the strong leading the weak and the virtue of loyalty still held sway over the Four Great Princes.

To become a hound was to be torn apart by four stronger hounds. The only other choice was to become the master of the hounds.

Catherine had to put Edward on the throne, otherwise she and her son would be purged by the Four Great Princes as impurities in the royal bloodline. This was the fundamental reason why Ryan had tried to make Edward the Crown Prince and why Roland refused to ascend the throne.

Faced with the bloodline protection mechanism of the entire royal family, not even a Gold Knight Queen could guarantee Catherine and Edward’s safety.

When Grand Duke Williams was moved to action by this bloodline protection mechanism, Catherine had no choice but to push forward, however reluctantly. But she had far too few cards to play, and Roland, aside from making a scene, could not garner any meaningful support.

Roland personally took care of Edward’s daily life and meals. Catherine slept with her sword in her arms, yet she would always wake with a start from her dreams. She was like a drowning person, clutching at any lifeline she could find.

It was under these circumstances that Catherine and Victor had their first time.

Catherine didn’t know what her feelings for Victor truly were, but she certainly did not think of him as a “fruit.”

Later, Victor became a hidden piece on the Queen’s chessboard. She hoped that if the situation became untenable, she could exchange Victor’s Fertility Potion for the protection of a Spirit Knight. Yet deep in the heart of Tyrell’s daughter, she had fantasized countless times of Victor appearing as a Sword Saint to save her and her son from peril. She would still wrap herself around him like a vine, depending on him, just like in her fondest memories.

When Victor awakened his Wind Walk talent, his shadow finally overlapped with Catherine’s fantasy, igniting a love the Queen had longed for.

However, the situation was different now. Edward had won the struggle for the throne, and the crisis was over. A relaxed Catherine found herself missing Victor even more intensely. Perhaps she hadn’t realized that she was only in love with a phantom, an unknown pillar of spiritual support. She was like a young girl in the throes of first love—sometimes sweet, sometimes sorrowful, sometimes hesitant.

The feeling of being in love was like a fine wine with an endless aftertaste. The more she savored it, the more flavor it had, making it impossible for Catherine to extricate herself.

However, things were not that simple.

With Edward’s ascension, Gambis had a King once more. The old spider lurking in Aerie Fortress finally revealed a grand plan, one that had been in motion for decades—a plan to elevate the royal bloodline.

Tofwen was a Wizard who could purify a knight’s bloodline. The Augusts had acquired him and done what needed to be done.

From then on, high-ranked knights, Knights, and apprentice knights from the August family and the Four Great Princely Houses emerged in endless streams. Aerie Fortress’s strength grew by leaps and bounds. But Ryan’s father and Tofwen discovered a serious problem—the Silver Bloodline of the August family was finding it difficult to command so many high-ranked knights and the Four Great Princes, whose power had surged.

Worse yet, Tofwen’s Wizardry couldn’t help the August family’s Silver Bloodline break through its limits. Once Tofwen died of old age, the hidden danger of a weak master and strong vassals would inevitably lead to disaster.

Thus, the old King and Tofwen devised a secret plan. They intended to cultivate the ancient Gold Bloodline to replace the Augusts’ Silver Bloodline.

The Wimbledons became the primary subjects for cultivation.

To achieve their final goal, the old King and Tofwen bypassed the Night Owl and secretly formed the Faceless, giving the Faceless de facto control over the Night Owl.

Through the joint efforts of the Faceless and the Night Owl, every Wimbledon in Gambis became one of Tofwen’s test subjects. Soren became a Silver Knight as a result, while Victor, despite his humble origins, awakened the Moon Elf bloodline.

Unfortunately, neither of them was of the Gold Bloodline. But Tofwen saw hope in Victor. He secretly guided Ludwig to marry a naturally awakened Moon Elf noblewoman. No one expected that the eldest son of the Peter family would actually kill her.

The old spider coughed up blood in fury but was helpless to do anything.

Fortunately, Victor, who had been considered a failure by Tofwen, had the full potential of his bloodline unleashed under Sylvia’s correct cultivation. Tofwen was ecstatic. He risked exposing his identity to reconfirm Victor’s bloodline potential.

The conclusion was gratifying: in thirty-two years, Victor would transform into a noble form with golden hair and golden eyes.

Tofwen appeared kind and amiable on the outside, but he had a heart of stone. He had even secretly schemed to have the late Queen Linda killed, all for the sake of cultivating Roland Auguste. Moreover, Tofwen was loyal to Ryan’s father. He followed the old King’s orders, allowing only the King of Gambis and the death commandos of the Faceless to participate in the plan. Even Roland and Marquess Golan were kept in the dark, and they were even reduced to pawns in his game.

In fact, Marquess Golan had also sensed the crisis of the Auguste bloodline. His invitation for His Highness Andre to visit Aerie Fortress was similarly driven by the idea of elevating the royal bloodline. But why had he sensed it? Why had he thought of Andre? And why did Roland refuse to give Andre even the slightest chance?

Catherine shuddered just thinking about it now. She had long been a pawn of the old spider.

The shadow of the Spirit Knight always loomed over Aerie Fortress. Snatching the “fruit” back from Sylvia’s hands would surely provoke her thunderous wrath. But having paid such a great price, how could the Augusts possibly give up on Victor?

Catherine dared not think about the next steps of the scheme, yet she couldn’t stop herself from doing so.

If Victor refused the August family’s goodwill, Aerie Fortress could only destroy him. Before that happened, before the old spider perished, Aerie Fortress had to obtain his bloodline as a backup plan.

Catherine was the one tasked with executing this plan.

To be able to love Victor tenderly was something Catherine had dreamed of, but the fact that her “beloved” might be in mortal danger was a source of great torment for her.

Clinging to the noble sentiment of saving her lover, Catherine said angrily, “Victor is not a ‘fruit’! He won’t just fall into the basket on his own, and I’m not a breeding tool. Only genuine feelings can win Victor’s trust! And feelings need to be cultivated. Do you, a Faceless, understand that?”

“As you wish, Your Noble Majesty. I would be more than happy to take your place and have a child with Victor,” Ariel said with delightful surprise. “I will go and relay your decree to the Chief at once.”

“Wait!”

Catherine grabbed Ariel, who was turning to leave, and said, weakly and shyly, “Who said I wasn’t willing?”

“My dear, you’re right. I am a Faceless, and one of the three Vice-Chiefs of the Faceless at that. But the Faceless have feelings too! I loved Ryan deeply, though he never once spared me a thought… My lover is gone, but I am still alive… Do you know what this is?” Ariel took Catherine’s slender hand and placed it on her own lower abdomen.

Catherine snatched her hand back as if shocked by electricity and asked in surprise, “You’re pregnant?”

“Mm.” Ariel caressed her abdomen, her face full of bliss. “A little life, from my husband. Though I will always miss Ryan, I also love the ‘fruit’ I cultivated with my own hands, and our child. Because I am a Silver female knight, procreating the bloodline is my greatest honor and happiness. But I waited until my little husband became a Knight before I conceived this life.”

“My dear Catherine, you have always treated me as a sister, and I have never once failed you,” Ariel said, looking directly into Catherine’s eyes.

Catherine was silent for a moment before saying softly, “Yes. In my most difficult times, you always protected me and Edward.”

“The Faceless obey only the orders of the Royal Family. I would never betray you, even if it meant sacrificing my life! This was the late King’s command to me, and it is also my own will. Please, believe me. The fruit is not yet ripe. Now is not the time to taste it,” Ariel said earnestly.

A brilliant blush rose on Catherine’s face. She chided, “What are you thinking? I am only going to see him in my capacity as the Queen Mother.”

“Your hair has already grown to your waist.” Ariel lifted Catherine’s long tresses and said with a light laugh, “How long has it been since you last circulated your Aura? Two years, or three? Emotion has overwhelmed reason. In your current state, you won’t be able to resist Victor’s temptations at all. As for Victor, hehe, those with elven bloodline have never had any resistance to beautiful things. Otherwise, His Majesty Draven would never have taken possession of a legendary paladin. In our eyes, what is the difference between that and suicide? It was just that his luck was rather good; Alijie didn’t take the opportunity to strike a fatal blow while he was lost in passion.”

“If you go see Victor now, what is bound to happen will happen. Do you want to let the efforts of three generations go to waste? Or, you could circulate your Aura right now to eliminate the effects of the potion in your body. I certainly won’t stop you from having a tryst with Victor then.”

Catherine sighed deeply, closing her eyes. “Fine,” she whispered. “I accept your counsel. I will not go see Victor.”

Ariel’s jade hand caressed Catherine’s smooth, flat abdomen. Biting at her ear, she chuckled, “My dear, just endure it a little longer. The day will come when you get your heart’s desire and conceive a child of noble bloodline with Victor.”

Just then, a court handmaiden knocked on the wooden door and announced from outside, “Your Majesty, it appears His Highness Roland and Miss Wellington have started a conflict, right in the lounge where Viscount Randell is.”

Catherine’s spirits lifted, her eyes shining. “Wait a moment, I’ll be right there.” With that, she pushed Ariel aside, casually grabbed a white dress, and put it on. Then, wearing the bright silver high heels, she pushed the door open and walked out with her hair still unbound.

Ariel stamped her foot in frustration. Chasing after Catherine, she grumbled under her breath, “Women in love are truly terrifying… When you scare Victor away, let’s see you regret it then.”

Chapter 421: Love at First Sight

When the Queen Mother walked into the lounge, Victor’s eyes lit up.

Catherine’s beauty was beyond question. It was said that the late King Ryan had married the daughter of Baron Tyrrell precisely because her features were strikingly similar to those of a young Roland. He had even required the new Queen to play the role of the princess’s mother. Catherine, aware of her natural advantage, acted in perfect harmony with Roland. They spent their days together, like mother and daughter, yet also like sisters. This aligned perfectly with the mental theory of the Legendary Sacred Warrior Tournans—the mind changes one’s inner potential, and inner potential changes one’s outer appearance.

For Knights who had ignited the fire of the mind, the integration of internal and external meant that their appearance was born from their heart. When Catherine stepped into the Silver realm, her face became almost identical to Roland’s, differing only in hair color, eye color, and temperament.

In Victor’s memory, Queen Catherine was the epitome of a mature, dignified, elegant, and charming noblewoman. She favored magnificent, intricately designed long dresses, her hair coiffed and adorned with the Queen’s coronet and exquisite jewelry. Her demeanor was dignified but not contrived, stunningly beautiful but not frivolous, self-assured and composed but not harsh or arrogant. She always used subtle, vivid expressions and a pair of bright eyes to convey joy, sorrow, reproach, praise, encouragement, and playful displeasure.

Today, Catherine wore a simple, waist-cinching dress. She wore no jewelry, giving her a more modest look. But the dress was expertly tailored, flawlessly outlining her firm, full bust and slender, supple waist. A half-moon neckline that revealed her delicate collarbones and a stretch of snowy, fine skin, yet without a hint of overt seduction. It made one anticipate the view should she bend over. Beneath the hem of her skirt, a pair of shapely, jade-like calves were paired with eye-catching silver high heels, looking both natural and graceful, yet hiding a subtle allure.

Graceful when still, enchanting when in motion. A dress paired with high heels was truly a woman’s ultimate beautifying weapon. Victor was genuinely captivated by Catherine’s attire.

Victor’s high-ranking knight companions were all peerless beauties. Sylvia’s beauty and allure were unparalleled, beyond anyone’s reach. Sophia, with her purple hair and purple eyes, possessed a natural charm that outshone all the noblewomen of the Royal Capital, earning her the title of Blinor City’s number one beauty. Gillian was born with a seductive allure, her cold beauty no less captivating than Sophia’s.

However, in Victor’s eyes, Catherine was one of a kind.

The little Baron’s first crush had been the Queen, and his youthful infatuation had some lingering influence on Victor. But this was not the main reason Catherine attracted him.

The greatest psychological problem for a transmigrator was an inescapable sense of loneliness. When a person lived in a strange world, they would naturally long for a companion, and if they could choose, a companion of the opposite sex would be best.

Victor had replicated high heels for Gillian out of nostalgia for his past life. Now, high heels were all the rage among noblewomen, and dresses naturally followed. The noble ladies and socialites in their new attire looked very much like modern women, but they all shared a trait that set them apart from the world of Earth.

Wearing one’s long hair down in public was a privilege of noblewomen. Even the wives and concubines of vassals who did no manual labor had to tie their hair in braids or cover it with a silk scarf if they did not have a noble surname; otherwise, they would be guilty of impersonating a noble. However, noblewomen only kept their hair shoulder-length for ease of combat, and in an emergency, they would not hesitate to cut their beautiful locks.

Modern women accustomed to a peaceful life would likely turn pale and scream at the sight of a short, ugly goblin. The noble female knights were all breathtakingly beautiful, surpassing the belles of Earth in looks and figure by a wide margin. Yet, they could slaughter a dozen goblins without batting an eyelid and then chat and jest as if nothing had happened.

Thus, the shoulder-length hair of the noble ladies constantly reminded Victor that beneath their beautiful and moving exteriors lay ruthless hearts.

Catherine had a delicate nose, cherry-like lips, and bright, expressive eyes. Her hair cascaded down to her waist like a waterfall. At a height of 1.68 meters, she was considered petite among female knights, possessing a natural, delicate charm that elicited pity.

For a Great Knight, the inner self determined the outer self. When Catherine shed the grand attire of a queen, her lovely and gentle true self was revealed. Of course, given her background, it was not surprising for her to have a demure, dependent personality.

Victor didn’t know how Catherine had reached the Silver-rank with such a disposition, but it was that waist-length hair that touched a memory deep inside him. Victor saw a modern city girl in a flowing white dress with long hair dancing in the wind, walking with an elegant catwalk stride into a scroll painting of swords and castles. This made him feel refreshed, as if bathed in a spring breeze, and incredibly close to her.

It had been a long time since Catherine had used her Aura to enhance her Perception, but the sharp eyes of a Great Knight allowed her to clearly see the astonishment and ardor in Victor’s gaze. Her heart, which had been fraught with anxiety, finally settled, then plunged into a vat of honeyed wine—sweet, intoxicating, as if floating on clouds, yet feeling exceptionally grounded.

Catherine found she loved everything about her secret crush’s dumbfounded, handsome appearance. And so, the tender affection welling up from her heart transformed into a stunning coquetry that was reflected directly in Victor’s eyes.

In truth, although Victor was handsome with a mysterious air, he lacked a masculine aura. He appealed more to the aesthetic of those with strong wills, while holding less attraction for weaker women who were accustomed to depending on the strong.

The Tyrell family had a shallow foundation; flattery and currying favor were their means of survival and advancement. The education Catherine received from a young age was all about how to please a powerful and noble partner, cultivating a gentle and frail disposition. But she was, after all, a Great Knight who had served a noble Gold Knight. At the very least, she shouldn’t lose her composure at the mere sight of Victor. Yet Catherine knew very well that this handsome, almost feminine young lord before her would become the second Sword Saint Draven in thirty-two years.

A Sword Saint! The sovereign of the Elves, more ancient, noble, and powerful than even the Moon Elves—a Sun Elf!

Some scholars claimed that over ten thousand years ago, the Moon Elf royal family intermarried with the Wimbledons primarily to use the Elemental Sea’s effect of purifying a knight’s bloodline, hoping to recreate the lost imperial family of the Elven Empire.

The Sword Saint Draven had dominated his era. Even the invincible Spirit Knights had to submit under his radiance, able to ensnare him only with their peerless beauty and overflowing tenderness. Draven’s lovers were all Gold female knights; any other noblewomen who had dalliances with him were driven far away.

Victor would be the same in the future. But for Catherine, to have loved the future Sword Saint, to have borne his child—what more could she ask for?

At this moment, Catherine was so filled with joy she felt she might burst. Her look full of tender affection intertwined with Victor’s passionate gaze, and time seemed to freeze in that instant.

Countess Ariel simply couldn’t watch anymore. She took a step forward, partially blocking Catherine, and said, “Your Excellency Randell, Miss Wellington, please come forward and pay your respects.”

“Margaret Wellington greets Her Majesty the Queen Mother. May Your Majesty’s youth and beauty last forever,” Margaret’s voice was as cool as ever, seemingly oblivious to the flirtatious glances being exchanged between the Queen Mother and Viscount Randell.

Victor snapped back to his senses, a mix of disappointment and bewilderment in his thoughts. Catherine is still Catherine, she couldn’t possibly be a transmigrator like me… otherwise the high heels and dress would have appeared long ago… But why is she looking at me with such deep affection? Could it be Wizardry? That can’t be right. A Great Knight’s internal and external are integrated, their mind is complete, and their will is as solid as a rock, able to resist most forms of Wizardry… Is she trying to seduce me? She wouldn’t do it right in front of the future queen… I’d better be careful.

“Good day, Your Majesty,” Victor said, his expression cool.

The former queen caught the flicker of disappointment in Victor’s eyes and automatically interpreted her beloved’s cold reaction as a deliberate attempt to protect her reputation. Catherine suddenly felt there were too many people in the room, and Margaret and Ariel were two particularly glaring eyesores!

An eyesore… and in the way… how annoying!

“This is a private occasion, there is no need for such formalities.” Catherine gave a reserved nod and asked with a smile, “What were you two talking about?” Her gentle, watery gaze shifted from Victor’s face to Margaret’s, and it immediately carried a hint of vigilance, like a wife scrutinizing a woman who was chatting with her husband.

Victor said, “Oh, we were discussing some of the local customs of Blinor City and Vistock…”

“We spoke of my marriage and love with Edward. For the rest of the time, we said nothing at all,” Margaret said with a calm expression, exposing Victor’s lie.

The atmosphere instantly grew cold.

Catherine paused, then asked, “Margaret, what are you doing here?”

“Earl Folt, who was in charge of protecting the King, was temporarily reassigned by Roland to the Glory Knights to handle some non-essential duties. I am following His Highness Roland’s orders to take over from Earl Folt and protect His Majesty the King.”

“Then where is the King?” Catherine asked curiously.

“He was taken away by His Highness Roland, along with Miss Angelina of the York family and My Lady Katerina,” Margaret reported to the Queen Mother with a calm expression. “The princess deliberately used My Lady Katerina and Viscount Randell to provoke me. She wants me to give up tutoring His Majesty the King.”

Catherine rubbed her temples and said with a headache, “I understand… Roland is acting recklessly. I will reprimand her… Dear Margaret, you may go and rest for now. I will receive Viscount Randell. Ariel, please see Margaret out.”

“That won’t be necessary. I can see myself out.”

Miss Wellington curtsied to each in turn, lifted the hem of her skirt, and left the room without a backward glance.

Catherine withdrew her gaze and asked with a smile, “Margaret has a cold personality… She didn’t neglect you, did she?”

“Miss Wellington has a straightforward temperament… it’s admirable!” Victor said sincerely. He paused, then bowed to the court lady beside him. “Tutor Ariel, I am very pleased to see you as beautiful as ever.”

The Countess shot Victor a look full of charm and covered her mouth with a giggle. “Lord Randal, I’d be thanking the heavens if you just don’t hold a grudge against me for spanking your bottom.”

Victor raised an eyebrow and said, “A hard spanking makes a lasting impression. I have never forgotten my tutor’s teachings. My gratitude for you is also from the heart.”

The Countess sighed softly, “Victor, you’ve grown up… and become more charming… To have been your tutor is the honor of my lifetime.”

Ariel had been responsible for teaching the little Baron courtly etiquette. The little Baron had felt the sting of her rattan cane, but she had also taught him the techniques for pleasing a mistress. They hadn’t done what they shouldn’t have, but they hadn’t omitted anything they should have. This was also why Ariel had said Ryan had never truly cared for her.

Ryan Auguste was gone, and the little man before her was destined to become a great figure of world renown… Ariel regretted why she had clung to her fantasies about the King back then, why she hadn’t thrown caution to the wind and become more intimate with Victor. The Viscount Randell of today was no longer a fruit she could dare to touch… However, in the future, I can tell my children: Grandma stole His Majesty Randell’s first kiss, and she spanked him hard, more than once… Ariel gently caressed her lower abdomen, where her happiness and hope now lay.

Catherine shot Ariel a jealous glance and smiled elegantly. “Victor, how long has it been since we last saw each other?”

“We just saw each other three days ago,” Victor said after a moment’s thought, adding, “at the King’s coronation ceremony.” Seeing Catherine’s crestfallen expression, he couldn’t help but add softly, “Before that, I hadn’t had an audience with Your Majesty for four years, fifteen months, and twelve days.”

So you remembered so clearly… Ariel is so annoying… such an eyesore!

Catherine’s displeasure turned to joy. Her pretty face beaming, she said with deep emotion, “It’s been almost five years since you left the Royal Capital for your post in the Centaur Hills, two thousand eight hundred and fifty-six days in total… There wasn’t a single day I didn’t think of you… I still remember, when you said goodbye, you told me you wouldn’t let down my high hopes, that you would make a name for yourself in the Centaur Hills and be an outstanding lord… My dear Victor, you certainly did it. I am so proud of you.”

Victor, of course, remembered the little Baron’s process of pledging loyalty to his mistress. He also remembered something someone had said in his past life: when a woman becomes sad or happy because of your words, she must be in love with you.

This saying was not a universal truth, because the profession of acting existed. If an extraordinary female knight were to transmigrate to Earth, she would undoubtedly become an unprecedented superstar.

Victor tested the waters, “Your Majesty, I am grateful for your favor and cultivation, but I can no longer return to the past… Her Highness Sylvia is my lover, and the York family is my strong supporter.”

“Of course. If you were to betray Her Highness Sylvia’s deep affection, I would look down on you.”

Catherine’s dimples appeared as she lowered her head and said softly, “Don’t call me Your Majesty… there can only be one mistress of Aerie Fortress. Once Edward and Margaret are married, I will leave Aerie Fortress with the rank of Duchess… You can call me Duchess, or… Catherine.”

In this world, women were never expected to remain chaste widows. Even a Queen Mother could start a new family and continue her own bloodline. In fact, King and Queen were first and foremost positions, and only then a familial relationship. Their marriages also followed the partner structure of dominant and subordinate, strong and weak. It was just that the vast majority of queens were noblewomen of low bloodline, naturally placing them in a weaker position in the marriage. A marriage like Margaret and Edward’s was purely for political purposes; even if Edward advanced to Gold Knight, their children could not inherit the throne and would belong only to the Wellington family.

Catherine’s intention to court him was laid bare. She said this to preemptively remove any obstacles to their union.

Victor, maintaining a cautious attitude, remained silent.

Catherine continued, “Sending you to the Centaur Hills was something I had no choice but to do… At that time, His Highness Andre was proposing to Roland, and the nobles of the Royal Capital all supported the marriage. Our situation was perilous. I had to unite with the Wimbledon Merchant Association, so I could only follow Sophia’s suggestion and send you out of the Royal Capital… When I realized Sophia wasn’t truly loyal to Edward, I tried to use the Church’s power to bring you back… Thinking about it now, I was too naive… Fortunately, you were wise enough not to cooperate with my plans, and even won Her Highness Sylvia’s favor because of it… Otherwise, if something had happened to you, I would never have been able to forgive myself… My dear, you don’t blame me, do you?”

The soft, sweet voice of the mistress of Aerie Fortress made half of Victor’s body melt, while the other half’s hair stood on end. He composed himself, first shaking his head, then nodding. “Sophia’s courting of Andre was useless. The conditions for a Gold Knight to choose a Silver Knight companion are extremely strict. An intimate relationship is not so easily established.”

“I know.” Catherine said with a smile, “But Roland needed an excuse to refuse… Marquess Golan, in league with the families of the Four Great Princes, was putting pressure on her, and even she was finding it hard to bear.”

A glint appeared in Victor’s eyes. He asked, feigning deep thought, “Bastern, Grehwald, Ludwig, and Leopold? Are they your political enemies?”

“Former political enemies… now loyal dogs.” Catherine shook her head with a laugh and sighed in relief. “Alright, that’s all in the past. Let’s not talk about such unhappy things… Victor, would you like to see your old bedchambers?”

Catherine’s state was somewhat odd. Considering the Wizard in Aerie Fortress, Victor had no desire to get entangled with her, but since there was no escaping it, he decided to take the opportunity to probe the reasons behind it.

After confirming once more that the Purple Gold Coin amulet he kept close to his body showed no anomalies, Victor nodded and accepted Catherine’s invitation.

The little Baron’s former residence was located in the Inner Court of Aerie Fortress, quite a distance from the Outer Bailey. Fortunately, the scenery in Aerie Fortress was unique, and Victor was accompanied by a peerless beauty with flowing long hair and a dress as white as snow. Whenever Victor’s eyes drifted her way, Catherine would immediately return a shy smile full of tender affection. A strangely warm feeling accompanied them the entire way, and by the time they reached the door of the old residence, Victor found himself thinking that time had passed too quickly.

In front of the old residence stood a stone statue of a warrior holding a sword. The statue was not carved to be lifelike or exquisitely detailed, but its rough lines exuded a heavy and imposing aura. If one were to stumble upon it unexpectedly, it would indeed be startling.

“In an inn in Blue Amber, I met a master carver of extraordinary skill. He claimed to be the imperial stonemason of Aerie Fortress and even said he wanted to carve a statue of me in elven form… But he’s so old, I don’t know if I’ll ever get that statue…” Victor caressed the warrior statue and sighed, shaking his head.

Although Catherine couldn’t use her Aura, she was already prepared for this question. She furrowed her brow slightly and asked in a thoughtful tone, “What’s the name of this master who claims to be the Aerie Fortress stonemason?”

“Baron Kartol Benjamin… Hmm, he looks to be over eighty, but his hands were very steady,” Victor said, a sharp glint hidden in his eyes as he casually probed.

“Then it must be him,” Catherine nodded and said with a radiant smile. “Baron Kartol is the tomb keeper of Aerie Fortress. His carving skills are so extraordinary they transcend the mundane and enter sainthood, but he has a solitary nature and doesn’t like to interact with people… He had already retired to the countryside before you even entered Aerie Fortress… It’s your good fortune that Master Kartol was willing to carve a statue for you… However, he is indeed getting on in years… How about this.”

The stunningly beautiful Queen Mother turned around and commanded with authority, “Countess Ariel, relay my decree. Have the Household Department send men to deliver four vials of Gold-Rimmed Sunflower Potion and five hundred Gold Sols to Baron Kartol. Once the Baron has completed His Excellency Randell’s statue, have it transported directly to Laketon.”

Ariel read a hint of pleading in Catherine’s eyes. Her heart softened, and she curtsied. “As you wish, Your Majesty… I will be right back. Please wait for me for half a quarter of an hour.”

The court lady’s figure disappeared around the corner of the hallway. Catherine bit her lip gently, took Victor’s arm, and said with a charming smile, “My dear, why don’t we go inside and take a look?”

For some reason, Victor no longer resisted this level of intimacy from Catherine. He allowed his former mistress to hold his arm as he stepped into the little Baron’s old home.

The furnishings in the room were just as they were in the little Baron’s memories on the Will Side, even the decorative flower pots were the same ones, though the Evergreen grass within them had grown lush and vigorous. However, Victor was no longer the little Baron, nor did he need to imitate his past personality.

“The other court attendants in my batch had to share a room six to a person, while I had two rooms all to myself. I was ostracized for it and even cried secretly at night… I wonder how those fellows are doing now?” Victor turned his head and asked.

Catherine, who was bolting the door, was startled. She spun around gracefully, her slender hand pressed to her chest, her eyes filled with a shy yet sweet panic. Seeming to feel this was improper, her delicate face flushed red as she quickly walked to a chaise lounge and sat down, giggling softly, “My dear little Victor, you were a special one…” Taking a deep breath, she sat up straight with elegance, boldly meeting Victor’s scorching gaze. “My dear, can you tell me about your experiences in the Centaur Hills?”

“Of course,” Victor suppressed the wanton thoughts in his heart and nodded.

“Not so fast. As an attendant of Aerie Fortress, seeing the mistress who once raised you, you have yet to perform a one-knee kneel. That is hardly the chivalry a gentleman should possess.” Catherine extended her slender, fair right hand to Victor, a playful, mischievous smile gracing the corners of her lips.

Kissing the back of a noble lady’s hand was normal social etiquette, but performing a one-knee kneel for a seated lady carried two different meanings. One represented devout and submissive loyalty. The Knight had to maintain a proper distance, not touching the mistress’s body, and the noble lady would likewise maintain due decorum. The other was purely a gesture of courtship. After a Knight asked for a noble lady’s love and received permission, physical contact, such as holding the lover’s calf or kissing, was permitted.

Catherine held out her delicate hand with an elegant posture, her straight, well-proportioned calves crossed tightly. Her gaze was bold and ardent, filled with a plea and an invitation for love.

The unconventional etiquette filled the room, which held unforgettable memories for them both, with an ambiguous atmosphere.

Victor was not the type to be immobilized by the sight of a beautiful woman; he was the type to be pushed over by a female knight with a single shove. His will was no match for a Knight’s; even Lilia had easily pushed him down. The reason he dared to play such a dangerous game with Catherine was due to Miller’s amulet and the Biochip X-3.

Miller was at least a legendary-level God-favored, comparable to a legendary-level Wizard. His amulet was sufficient to protect Victor from harm by Wizardry. And the X-3 could put him in a state of absolute rationality, making it impossible for Catherine to charm him.

Victor overestimated the X-3, and even more, he overestimated himself.

If Catherine were like Sophia, able to stir his emotions with a single glance, he might have had the motivation to activate the X-3. But Catherine’s feelings for Victor were genuine. From her attire to her physical and mental state, she had touched Victor’s heart. Coupled with the sensual images from the little Baron’s memory and the contrast brought by her status as Queen, all of this deeply stimulated Victor. He was now at a point of no return.

Catherine making eyes at him did not fall under the dangerous conditions set by the X-3. Instead, based on Victor’s emotions, it adjusted his hormone levels, making him more charming and invisibly encouraging Catherine’s courage in her courtship.

If it lacked this function, the X-3’s design would have been a failure.

It could be said that the X-3 was greatly responsible for Victor’s unfailing success with high-ranking female knights.

When two people full of mutual affection are alone in a room, what is bound to happen, will happen.

Victor knelt before Catherine. His right hand moved past her jade-like fingers, slowly and firmly grasping her well-proportioned calf. The delicate, tender, yet elastic touch made Victor say on a sudden impulse:

“Golden Mask.”

Gazing into her beloved’s deep, enchanting dark eyes, his peerless handsome face, and feeling the ceaseless wind that billowed the hem of her skirt, Catherine was already utterly intoxicated. When she heard Victor say “Golden Mask,” her mind buzzed, and her whole body felt on the verge of collapse.

Heavens… he knows… Of course, he’s the future Sword Saint. How could he not know… He was always going to find out… Will he think I’m a wanton woman… Will he doubt my love for him… What should I do… What should I do?

Catherine turned her head, not daring to meet Victor’s eyes. Her beautiful face was flushed as if with rouge, the blush spreading all the way to the tips of her ears. Fine beads of sweat appeared on her delicate, slender nose, her long eyelashes trembled incessantly, and a glint of tears seemed to shimmer in her half-closed eyes. If not for the warmth of Victor’s hand, she feared she would have already melted onto the chaise lounge.

At this moment, what Victor saw was not a powerful extraordinary knight, not a high and mighty queen. He saw a peerless beauty who was frail and enchanting to the extreme.

All sorts of emotions were pushed to their peak, then mashed into one, leaving only the reckless desire to possess and conquer.

Victor lifted Catherine’s delicate chin, drawing close to her glistening, moist red lips.

Catherine hadn’t circulated her Aura for a long time. Ever since taking the Fertility Potion, her body and mind had been prepared to receive Victor. Her vine-like personality intensified her self-suggestion regarding love. Facing her beloved’s passionate kiss, she offered no resistance, only submission.

At this moment, she felt as if she were enveloped in immense happiness. She closed her starry eyes, responding to her lover’s kiss with all her heart, completely failing to notice the fleeting golden gleam that shone in Victor’s eyes.

Victor had always passively accepted love. His partners all had the flavor of a political alliance, and behind the compromises was an instinctive resistance to this other world.

Only this impulse was a pure eruption of emotion—a tryst with his former mistress. When Victor recklessly sought to possess Catherine, it meant he had accepted the little Baron, and also accepted this world.

Where there is longing, there will be an echo.

The Golden Toad Mystic Form, which pursued Oneness with nature, activated on its own, beginning to construct a new breakthrough point. The X-3 from Earth, however, could not process the interaction between the Moon Elf bloodline, the power of the mind, and the world’s origin. It was on the brink of collapse, about to be transformed by the Golden Toad Mystic Form into a new state that was compatible with the world’s origin.

Yet Victor knew none of this.

“Not even half a quarter of an hour… Catherine, I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist… You have no idea how the Fertility Potion and Victor are drawn to each other…” Ariel sighed incessantly in her heart. She paced back and forth outside the door, gnashing her teeth, before finally raising her hand and striking the door bolt open.

The amorous scene made Ariel both angry and amused, with a hint of envy.

Catherine seems to be beyond saving… The Countess cleared her throat and raised her voice at the little attendant who was “oppressing” the Queen, “Your Excellency Randell, is this how you repay Her Majesty? Is it not far too discourteous?”

Victor was abruptly jolted awake. The Golden Toad Mystic Form came to a sudden halt, the about-to-collapse X-3 re-coalesced, and clarity returned to his eyes.

Catherine lay on the chaise lounge with her eyes closed, panting for a moment before rising and leaning into her lover’s embrace. She murmured, shy and sweet, “My dear, now is not the time… I promise that from now on, I will belong only to you… When there’s a chance in the future, I want to have your child…”

The Vice-Chief of The Faceless had no idea what she had just done. If she hadn’t stopped it, Aerie Fortress would have obtained its coveted Gold Bloodline ahead of schedule, and Victor would have taken a most crucial step.

Victor’s mind was a complete blank. He seemed to sense something, yet it was as if nothing had happened. He was stunned to find that the X-3 had no record of the last few moments.

In Catherine’s eyes, her beloved lover’s expression was so awkward it was adorable. She let out a giggle, pecked Victor on the lips, retied her belt, straightened her dress, put on her high heels, and before leaving, gave her dazed lover a reluctant glance. She thoughtfully closed the door behind her, giving him space to calm his emotions and tidy his clothes.

Catherine shot Ariel a glare, huffed, and with an elegant, brisk stride, left the attendant’s residence hallway.

I’m not going to tell you how much I enjoyed being with Victor.

Victor remained in the room, thinking blankly.

Just now… what on earth happened?

Chapter 422: Disappeared

Time flew by, and in the blink of an eye, it was the second month of the Season of Water.

The weather began to turn cold. In the early mornings especially, a thin, chilly mist filled the air, clinging to the body with a bone-piercing dampness.

At this time of year, one needed immense determination to leave a warm bed and go out to train. If there was a living, breathing beauty in that bed, then mere determination was not enough; one would also need great perseverance. And to crawl out from the gentle embrace of two female knights, one required determination, perseverance, will, stamina, and charm in equal, indispensable measure.

Victor did not lack great determination or perseverance, and he possessed extraordinary stamina and charm, but his willpower was merely average. He did, however, have the Biochip X-3.

As morning arrived, his eyes opened on schedule.

Three hours of deep sleep left Victor feeling refreshed, his mind sharp and his senses keen.

Sophia and Natalya knew what their man was doing but were simply unwilling to open their eyes. In their view, Victor’s daily morning training was meaningless. No matter how exquisite the secret martial art created by Tournans was, it was useless to a Knight, and even more so to one with an elven bloodline.

You clearly rely on the innate gifts of your bloodline, so why are you practicing a mortal’s combat technique? You’d be better off spending more time with us… Those were Viscountess Randell’s exact words.

Victor had already come to realize that he was not purely human, and Tournans’ Gryphon Combat Technique was indeed of little use to him. Moreover, while the Biochip X-3 had unlocked his potential, it had also confined his path. It was as if a train, no matter how fast, could only run on its designated tracks. If no one laid new tracks, Victor could only ride the high-speed train, taking in the fixed scenery, unable to explore unknown territories.

Even if practicing combat techniques couldn’t improve his strength, it was still good for tempering his will. Unfortunately, the X-3 handled everything. Like a faithful and miraculous steward, it allowed its master to enter deep sleep and wake up on time, prompting him to go out and exercise. Unless Victor changed his mind, it would forever execute its default commands.

This left Victor feeling rather helpless.

Persisting in his morning training had become a habit, or rather, a form of psychological conditioning for Victor—a way to reassure himself and integrate into society.

I train diligently in martial arts every day, so how could I not be human?

The common folk had no concept of extraordinary bloodlines. The guards of the House of Randell deeply approved of their lord’s diligence and took him as their role model, training hard in their combat techniques every day. The lord’s example could inspire people and boost morale. At last, Victor had found some meaning in his persistence.

The cold mist struck his face, a chill that pierced the heart. Even wearing his python-skin inner armor, Victor shivered. He now dearly missed the large bed in his bedroom and the two beautiful wives in it.

After loosening his joints, Victor jogged into the back garden of the Marquess’s estate.

Narsen and a group of guards were already in the garden, practicing their combat techniques. He was bare-chested, revealing his powerful muscles. With each breath, the mist around him swirled and churned, making him look like a humanoid monster exhaling clouds. Caligula sat foolishly across from him; whenever Narsen breathed out a white plume, he would blow hard to disperse it, having the time of his life. The guards, meanwhile, were concentrating on practicing the Gray Wolf Combat Technique.

The combat techniques improved by Tournans drew inspiration from Mystic Form stance practice, emphasizing gradual progress and forbidding giving up halfway. As Narsen and the guards cultivated their techniques, they paid no heed to their master’s arrival. Victor didn’t disturb them either, preparing to find an empty spot to complete his daily practice. Caligula, however, trotted over eagerly, grinning with a gappy mouth, and mumbled, “Master, good morning.” He was losing his teeth.

Narsen and Alice were also losing their teeth—a side effect of the Dragon’s Vein Potion reshaping their bodies.

Of course, losing baby teeth was a good thing. It meant the body was starting to redevelop, which not only delayed aging and increased lifespan but also allowed one to become stronger or more beautiful, according to the desires held during the body’s reshaping. The only drawback was the slight embarrassment when talking or eating.

For this reason, Alice had shut herself in her room, refusing to see her husband. Narsen felt ashamed as well. Fortunately, Baron Chatain and his family had already left Blinor City to return to their fief. Otherwise, he would have had to wear a helmet and faceplate to teach his master’s younger siblings the simplified version of the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form. He now tried to avoid speaking as much as possible, spending his days training hard and eating voraciously, hoping to grow new teeth as soon as possible. Only Caligula was completely unconcerned, showing off his new teeth to anyone who would look, amusing others and himself.

“Aka, why aren’t you practicing your combat technique?” Victor asked, affectionately patting Caligula’s stomach. He had intended to pat his family retainer on the shoulder, but the man was simply too tall.

“Master, I finished… I’m waiting for Narsen. He’s taking me for mutton porridge… One barrel for him, two for me,” Caligula said, smacking his lips.

Victor nearly burst out laughing. He waved his hand and said, “Go practice one more time, and I’ll have someone prepare four extra stewed quails for you.”

Caligula immediately struck a pose and began practicing the Gryphon Combat Technique again. Three streams of white vapor, like tangible yet immaterial longswords, flowed in and out of his mouth and nose, looking quite mystical.

The Gray Wolf Combat Technique was divided into two stages, with a total of twelve stances and sixteen movements. An adult under thirty who regularly consumed Body-strengthening Potions and trained systematically for four years could reach the standard of an elite archer and possess relatively agile skills.

The Gryphon Combat Technique aimed for the fire of the mind, belonging to the realm of true secret arts. It had four levels. The first two could only be cultivated by children who had not yet matured. If they could achieve internal strength and external power before the age of twenty, they could proceed to the third level and attempt to ignite the fire of the mind.

Narsen had reached the peak of the third level. The power of his mind harmonized his internal and external self, and his vitality was as robust as a great beast’s. Caligula, on the other hand, had already entered the fourth level, where his vitality was condensed and he moved with ease. If he reached the peak of the fourth level, the power of his mind would command both his external and internal potential. In practical terms, the Burst skill of the Gryphon Combat Technique would transform into active abilities like Bloodlust or Frenzy.

Currently, Narsen could instantly double his strength and speed for eight seconds or use five consecutive Bursts, making his combat power explode in an instant. Caligula’s base strength was in no way inferior to Narsen’s, and he could easily use eight consecutive Bursts. Even Narsen was jealous of his talent.

In truth, while Caligula’s physique was formidable, his mind was as pure as a newborn’s. When his body was reshaped, he fully accepted the divine art of the mind’s fire, directly igniting his own. His Spirit attribute had now reached eighteen points, his Physique and Perception had both broken past fifteen, and his Life was at seventeen.

As for his power level… he was worse than Black Iron, possessing no combat ability whatsoever.

Caligula never got angry at anyone. It would take him a good long while to process killing a cow, and even an ordinary soldier could seize an opportunity to strike him down on the spot.

If you don’t dare to fight, what’s the point of having a power level?

All that talent gone to waste… he was nothing but a useless glutton!

After a wave of envy, jealousy, and hate, Victor decided to add Half-dragon hearts to the list of swamp resources to be collected, so he could trade them with the Church for more body-reshaping slots.

The Gryphon Combat Technique had to be started from a young age, but children are naturally playful, and very few could settle down to practice martial arts. If they failed to reach the third level of the Gryphon Combat Technique before the age of twenty, it would be difficult to ignite the fire of the mind, wasting the resources invested in their early years.

According to Victor’s agreement with the Church: eight hundred Gold Sols, ten Half-dragon hearts, and a certain amount of swamp medicinal herbs could be exchanged for one body-reshaping slot.

This slot was a precious opportunity to cultivate elite combatants for his family.

Besides, Half-dragons had a tradition of killing one another… as long as he provided them with armaments to make their bloody battles even more brutal, would he have to worry about a lack of Half-dragon hearts?

Victor reined in his thoughts, found a quiet spot, and began his morning practice.

When the sun had dispersed the morning mist, Victor let out a long breath. Narsen and the guards had left the back garden quietly, so as not to disturb their master. Sophia, bringing Angelina with her, was smiling as she watched Victor relax his stance.

The little princess of the York family snorted, lifted her chin, and turned her head to the side with a proud air, a bear-tooth carving clutched in her hand, which she waggled defiantly.

The Gambis Royal Family’s Knight Tournament and the great hunt had both concluded. At the hunt, Edward Auguste had single-handedly killed a giant bear. According to protocol, the new king should have bestowed the bear tooth upon a vassal or his future queen, but the boy had walked straight towards Angelina under the watchful eyes of the crowd. Murmurs rippled through the onlookers, and Duke Wellington’s face turned ashen. Fortunately, Victor stepped forward just in time, knelt on one knee, and accepted the bear tooth, avoiding an awkward situation. Roland, however, had stormed over and snatched the King’s war trophy away.

Anna returned to the Marquess’s estate and shut herself in her room for a good cry.

One would have thought the matter was over. But who knew that that very night, Roland would bring Edward over the wall and into the Marquess’s estate, where the little king presented Anna with the bear tooth he had carved himself. And then, they actually kissed!

Victor could only watch helplessly as the two little ones, both under thirteen, were being lovey-dovey in the back garden. Roland was staring at him like a tiger watching its prey. As for Sophia, her tutor, she didn’t even come out.

From then on, Anna resented her guardian and would show off the bear tooth from time to time.

“Anna, you go practice your sword first. I have something to discuss with my lord,” Sophia said, handing a longsword to Anna.

Watching Anna skip away, Victor shook his head and said, “You’re really not a qualified tutor.”

Sophia just smiled without a word, her slender finger tapping her luscious, moist red lips. Her amethyst eyes were brimming with charm. An image of her pained yet blissful expression from last night surfaced in Victor’s mind. His heart skipped a beat, and he stepped forward to pull the peerless beauty into his arms.

The two kissed for a moment, then held each other tenderly for a long while. Victor released the stunningly beautiful Marchioness and said with dissatisfaction, “Why are you charming me again?”

“Clearly, you’re the one seducing me and Natalya,” Sophia said in a soft, coquettish voice.

A blush crept up Victor’s fair cheeks. For the past two months, he had indeed been very attentive to his women, but the root of it all was Catherine.

Victor and his former mistress had sealed their love with a kiss at Aerie Fortress. After that, they had almost no opportunities to be alone. But in public, Victor and Catherine would exchange furtive, flirtatious glances, the thrill of which only they could understand.

Williams had hosted a farewell banquet at the Regent’s residence for the envoys of various nations. He had not invited the great lords of Gambis, only Archbishop Lazarus, the Marquess of the Royal Capital, and Earl and Countess Chapman. His true intention was to have Archbishop Lazarus force the minting rights for Copper Sol upon Earl Chapman.

Aerie Fortress was determined to prop up the Chepman family, so the Church had no reason to continue supporting House Sorim. Transferring the minting rights for Copper Sol was an inevitability.

This was all part of Sylvia’s calculations.

Victor, as the husband of the Marchioness of Wimbledon, also attended the banquet. The ugly expression on Earl Chapman’s face brought him a secret delight, but he feigned indifference on the surface. Later, he found an opportunity to slip into the Queen Mother’s resting chamber and had a tryst with Catherine.

The two shared sweet, passionate kisses and professed their feelings for each other, but they still couldn’t take the final step. Countess Ariel was watching from the side.

Victor was very annoyed, but Catherine explained her predicament.

Edward was not yet an adult and had a simple heart; he probably wouldn’t be able to accept Catherine becoming intimate partners with her childhood playmate. Catherine implored her beloved to wait until she stepped down from her position as Queen Mother before they defined their relationship.

Victor knew there might be something between Catherine and Williams, but he just didn’t want to delve into it. He admitted he was mesmerized by Catherine. He was also certain that Catherine’s affection for him came from the heart. Faced with his lover’s lovely, pitiable, and sorrowful expression, Victor had no choice but to give up in frustration.

He wanted to steal a moment, but he couldn’t. Victor was filled with pent-up frustration and, at the same time, a deep sense of guilt towards Sylvia.

And so, Victor poured all his passion and remorse onto his own lovers. His relationship with Sophia progressed by leaps and bounds, and they became inseparable.

Now, Victor was truly reluctant to leave Sophia. However, he adhered to one bottom line: he could be with a high-ranking female knight, but she could not move her forces into the Randell Fief.

The political power in the Randell Fief was too fragile to withstand internal strife. The Golden Company, however, could absorb Sophia’s forces.

“My dear, is something on your mind?” Victor asked, holding Sophia’s hand as they strolled through the garden.

Sophia stopped and looked into Victor’s eyes, asking softly, “How did you know something was on my mind?”

“Throwing yourself into my arms first thing in the morning—isn’t that a plea for comfort?” Victor said with a smile.

Sophia rolled her eyes at Victor, then puffed out a laugh. She shook her head and sighed, “You… you really know your lady… Alright, I have indeed run into some trouble.”

“Eckert has disappeared.”

Chapter 423: Each Makes Their Intentions Clear

“Lord Eckert Wimbledon, one of the five leaders of the Stag Merchants’ Guild. You met him once at the Marquess’s estate, I wonder if you remember…”

Sophia walked through the garden with her arm linked through Victor’s, speaking as they went: “Eckert is in charge of six caravans, responsible for a trade route from the southeastern territories of Dodor to the Naville Basin. He spends his years traveling between Stonetooth City of the Dwemic family and Ironridge City of the Smirlov family, rarely returning to Blinor.”

The little Baron’s Will Side held no memory of Lord Eckert. He was an insignificant passerby. But Eckert was currently in Victor’s hands. As for his specific itinerary and location, not even Victor knew.

The Gold Restoration Potion was of immense importance to Knight families, and Victor using it to strategize for The Golden Company would inevitably draw the overt and covert scrutiny of the York family. The potion’s effects were outrageously potent, and Victor couldn’t think of a perfect way to explain away its origins. No matter how he schemed, Sylvia would surely see the flaws.

Trying to explain it away would be like painting on white paper with a black brush—the more you try, the darker it gets. And trying to act smart in front of someone truly intelligent only makes one look all the more foolish.

Since that was the case, it was better not to explain at all and let the intelligent person fill in the blanks themselves.

Victor had made his request to Barol without inquiring about the details of its execution. The old spy didn’t know the true value of the formula, so his plan was bound to be full of holes. If Sylvia were to press him, Victor would feign ignorance, offer no explanation, and refuse to hand anyone over. As long as Sylvia couldn’t abandon the immense benefits of the Restoration Potion and The Golden Company, the York family would naturally have to cover up the formula’s origins for Victor, promote The Golden Company’s development, and ensure a steady flow of key medicinal ingredients from Arreat to the Centaur Hills.

Victor had formulated this plan of using a flaw to patch a flaw only after careful deliberation. He was absolutely certain it would work.

Wasn’t it the same with the rock bricks?

Sylvia just hadn’t called him out on it, a fact of which Victor was well aware.

The Alchemical Empire’s technology was meant to be used; it was impossible to keep it strictly secret. The alchemical creatures were Victor’s core secret. Sylvia had toured the secret fortress in the hills, and alchemical humans had been in her line of sight more than once, yet she had failed to notice anything unusual. What else did Victor have to worry about?

“Eckert? I don’t recall… Please, go on, my dear.” Victor shook his head honestly. He truly didn’t know Lord Eckert.

“The Boreans have been using violence within the Dodor Kingdom to intimidate the outer members of the Stag Merchants’ Guild, forcing them to join the Southwind Merchant Association. But the Guild’s upper echelons are firmly resisting the Southwind Merchant Association’s bullying. Eckert is one of the leading figures in this resistance. Because he bears the Wimbledon surname… it’s almost impossible for the Southwind Merchant Association to give a Wimbledon from the Stag Merchants’ Guild a position of importance, unless they are willing to renounce their noble status.”

Sophia continued, “Eckert was personally holding the line in Stonetooth City, clashing covertly with the henchmen of the Southwind Merchant Association. Over two months ago, he suddenly left Stonetooth City, taking only a few of his trusted guards with him. He said in a letter that he had intercepted a crucial piece of intelligence concerning a deal between the Boreans and a Dodor lord. To prevent the news from leaking and avoid being hunted by the Dwemic family and the Boreans, Lord Eckert planned to hide his tracks and secretly return to Blinor. He reported his progress to the Marquess’s estate twice using Red-Eyed Crows. The last time, he was at the southern border of the Dodor Kingdom. Logically, he should have entered Gambis over a month ago… but since then, Eckert has vanished without a trace. I’m certain he’s missing.”

“You didn’t send knights from the Marquess’s estate to meet him?” Victor asked.

“I did, but they couldn’t find him at all… Eckert had three messenger crows with him. We could only maintain one-way communication with him. How could my knights possibly arrange a rendezvous?”

Sophia shook her head and sighed. “You know the situation with the Gambis Wimbledons. Our heritage is passed down by name, not by bloodline… I, the Marchioness, don’t even have Wimbledon blood. Lords like Eckert and Abel don’t have the Wimbledon bloodline either. In truth, they do business in the Wimbledon name, but they feel no real loyalty to the Marquess’s estate.”

“You suspect Eckert has sided with the Boreans? That he faked his disappearance and death to protect his family and his title?”

Sophia nodded. “That’s highly likely. Whether Eckert was truly silenced by the Boreans or he betrayed me, the outcome is equally terrible. If the noble leaders of the Stag Merchants’ Guild all meet with misfortune, the guild will quickly fall apart.” With that, Sophia leaned into Victor’s embrace and said softly, “My dear, you promised to help me… I believe you will, but right now, I must first make a trip to the Dodor Kingdom.”

Victor placed his hands on Sophia’s shoulders, looked directly into her violet eyes, and said in a low voice, “At the invitation of Earl Horra Ludwig?”

Her little husband was perfect in every way, except for his intense jealousy. He always saw his partners as his vassals, allowing no one else to touch them. But this also showed that he was a man of deep feeling and was utterly devoted to her.

Sophia felt both helpless and a little thrilled. She bit her red lip and said aggrievedly, “Didn’t I refuse Ludwig’s gentlemanly gift? Why don’t you trust me? Accepting the invitation is just a pretext for the visit. I need an audience with His Majesty King Friedrich. Regardless of whether my negotiations with the King of Dodor make progress, it will reassure the people of the Stag Merchants’ Guild.”

The Dodor envoy had on multiple occasions, both public and private, expressed his admiration for the Marchioness of Wimbledon. Following the etiquette of a knight’s courtship, he had sent Sophia a set of jewelry and invited her to visit the Ludwig family.

The dispute at the Blue Amber Inn had made Horra a laughingstock in noble circles. It shouldn’t have been a big deal. Horra admitted his lack of propriety, claiming he had mistaken Viscount Randell for a noblewoman, and praised the Moon Elf noble’s unparalleled beauty. According to his version of events, the one who should have been embarrassed was Viscount Randell.

Sylvia was right here in Blinor City. Who among the nobles of Gambis would dare mock her lover for looking like a lady? The Dodor envoy had already offered a sincere apology and paid a ransom of fifty thousand Gold Sols. To keep harping on the subject would be unreasonable.

The storm over the Blue Amber Inn quickly subsided. Horra was quite pleased with his own cleverness.

However, how could the Blue Dawn Sparrow family let an earl of the Gold Dawn Sparrow family off so easily? A bucket of dirty water was promptly splashed upon him.

Before long, a new rumor began to circulate in Blinor City: Earl Horra Ludwig preferred men and had no interest in women. It was said that the reason he remained unmarried yet traveled with two beautiful female apprentice knights was merely to conceal this flaw in his character. Otherwise, why would he constantly praise Viscount Randell’s appearance?

This rumor was not only disgusting, but also vicious.

A knight who could not propagate their bloodline had no standing in their family. With Edward Auguste’s coronation as king, envoys from all nations had gathered in Blinor City. If such a rumor were to spread, the consequences would be dire.

Horra finally panicked. After some consideration, he began to publicly express his adoration for Sophia, attempting to turn the Blue Amber Inn incident into a rivalry between two male nobles vying for a lady’s affection.

Propagating the bloodline was always a major issue for knight-nobles. Noble circles utterly despised knights with a “confused Nature,” but a knight’s pursuit of a partner of the opposite sex was considered a romantic tale. Both parties would be praised by noble society, including the partner of the person being courted, as long as the pursuing knight did not pester the object of their affection after being rejected.

You’re outstanding, but my lover rejected you, which proves I’m even more outstanding. If you dare to pester her relentlessly, believe me, a white glove will be thrown in your face. What? My lover accepted you?… A white glove will be thrown in your face!

Looked at another way, Horra hadn’t even courted Sophia yet, and Viscount Randell had already come to blows with him. In effect, he was subtly implying that Victor was narrow-minded and lacked gentlemanly conduct. Sophia, of course, would not accept Earl Ludwig’s courtship. If by some chance she accepted, Horra could at worst surrender to Victor and admit defeat. After all, they had fought, he had lost, he had paid the compensation—no one could laugh at him anymore.

Horra’s calculations were shrewd, but he didn’t realize he had thoroughly offended Victor. Of course, even if he had known, he wouldn’t have cared, since Victor was the one who had initiated the hostilities.

Earl Ludwig was doing this primarily to eliminate the negative repercussions from his conflict with Victor. But it was unlikely he didn’t have other intentions.

Sophia was so beautiful; Victor refused to believe for a second that Horra had no designs on her.

This was the way of noble circles, so there was no point in Victor getting angry. Some noblewomen deliberately sought out suitors, accepted their gentlemanly gifts, and then gracefully rejected them to raise their own standing. Gillian had been courted by more than thirty men, and she had even shown Victor the gentlemanly gifts she’d received. In a fit of anger, Victor had bought them all at a high price, melted them into a single lump, and thrown it into the Goldwater River.

Sophia had at least eighty suitors, if not a hundred. Her refusal of Horra’s gentlemanly gift was already giving Victor a great deal of face.

A gentlemanly gift was a medal of a female knight’s charm, and also the threshold for a knight’s courtship. If a female knight refused the courtship but accepted the gift, it was considered an acknowledgement of the suitor’s high status and sincerity. To do the opposite was to show contempt for the suitor.

“Yes, you refused Ludwig’s gentlemanly gift… his face was grim for days.” Victor released Sophia, looked her straight in the eye, and asked, “If that idiot helped you deal with the Southwind Merchant Association and asked only for a night of pleasure in return, would you agree or not?”

Sophia froze for a moment, then shook her head with a laugh. “My dear, your jealousy is truly frightening… Do you think Horra has that kind of ability?”

“And what about King Friedrich? If he were to court you, what would you do?” Victor’s gaze became deep and inscrutable, his tone aggressive.

Sophia flew into a rage. Her face turned cold as she said, “Victor, treating me as your personal property is going too far! If the King of Dodor were to pester me relentlessly, would you throw down the white glove for my sake?”

The question was like an arrow through the heart, pinning Victor to the spot. He lowered his head in thought while the radiance faded from Sophia’s beautiful face. Neither of them spoke, and the atmosphere grew heavy and cold.

After a long while, Victor looked up and sighed. “Enbise was right… He said I’m too greedy, always wanting to possess my partners completely, yet failing to understand that a high-ranking female knight is a powerhouse first, and a woman second… Powerhouses demand respect. If you were to leave me, I would respect your choice. But I want to know, in your heart, who is more important: the Wimbledon Merchant Association, or me?”

A pang of sorrow shot through Sophia’s heart. She took Victor’s hand and said apologetically, “My dear, don’t be angry. I was just upset…” She bit her lip and said softly, “I’m so happy that you have me in your heart. Although all the high-ranking female knights want you and none of them wish to leave you, as a fellow Silver-rank extraordinary, you must learn to respect our will. You want me to submit to you, but that won’t happen unless you become a Gold-rank powerhouse or higher. Or perhaps… there is another way…”

Sophia wrapped her arms around Victor’s neck, tilting her head with a faint smile, “Give me a child… no, two. Give me two children, and I will serve you, please you, and belong only to you forever.”

Victor was overjoyed. He wrapped his arms around Sophia’s slender waist and laughed. “Isn’t that simple? We’ll definitely have children… as soon as my bloodline purification has completely stabilized.”

“Simple? Are you sure?” Sophia raised an eyebrow, shaking her head with a laugh. “The more powerful an extraordinary being is, the more difficult it is to have children. His Majesty Draven had five Gold Knight partners and six children. Besides the Ironmountain Empress, who gave birth to twins, all the other highnesses had only one child.”

“Your Moon Elf bloodline is still purifying, and everyone hopes you’ll become the second Sun Elf. The female knights flock around you, doting on you, all to secure a spot in advance. Suppose you give them no hope—who would be willing to waste their life in endless waiting? I’m afraid even Her Majesty Catherine wouldn’t be so enthusiastic about you anymore.”

“Ah… you… you saw all that?” Victor was dumbfounded, stammering.

Sophia pouted, released his neck, and said peevishly, “During the grand banquet at Aerie Fortress, so many high-ranking female knights were eyeing you. Besides Sylvia, me, and Judy, the only one you were making eyes at was Catherine. Did you think we were all blind? The reason Roland was so fierce with you was because you were hitting on Edward’s mother.”

“You don’t have to worry. Roland didn’t issue a clear warning, which means she supports Catherine’s pursuit of you.” Sophia’s tone was languid, but her slender fingers gave her husband’s side a vicious pinch.

“You still haven’t answered my question directly,” Victor complained, rubbing his side and grimacing.

Sophia looked at Victor for a moment, then said seriously, “All my life, I have walked on thorns, pressing bravely forward, and I never let go of what I grasp! If I cannot hold onto the Wimbledon Merchant Association, then I must hold onto you all the more tightly.”

“My dear husband, don’t even think of getting rid of me! There is a place for me in the House of Randell.”

“Are you satisfied with that answer?”

Victor let out a breath and said meaningfully, “Very satisfied!”

Sophia was magnanimous and free-spirited; from beginning to end, she never asked Victor in return: who was more important, the Randell Fief or her?

As a man, how could Victor’s own magnanimity and breadth of mind be less than that of his own woman?

Setting aside personal feelings, Sophia was to play a crucial role in Victor’s plans. Her stance determined Victor’s attitude.

The moment Sylvia obtained the Restoration Potion would be when The Golden Company moved from the shadows into the light. To grow, The Golden Company would inevitably have to ally with powerful lords who controlled trade routes. Therefore, it needed a public agent.

Sophia was the perfect candidate.

She had the ability to disperse the Wimbledon Merchant Association, moving it from the public eye into the shadows, instantly bolstering The Golden Company’s strength. Only then could The Golden Company gain the approval of powerful lords.

On the other hand, if Sophia gave up the Wimbledon Merchant Association, the fundamental conflict between her and the Royal Family would disappear. Aerie Fortress would not strip her of her marquessate, because her husband was Victor. The Auguste family would be very welcoming of a Marquess of the Royal Capital who possessed an ancient bloodline. Moreover, having control over Victor’s descendants would help strengthen Aerie Fortress’s influence over the Centaur Hills.

Sophia’s position would be very secure, and her control over The Golden Company would even surpass Victor’s.

Of course, Victor personally leading The Golden Company would maximize his own interests. However, compared to The Golden Company, Victor’s own home base was more important.

Victor controlled the main ingredients for the Dragon’s Vein Potion and could continuously cultivate loyal family elites. If Laketon could obtain the minting rights for Copper Sols, Victor, with his fire-crystal furnace technology, would only profit from minting them. Adding to that the two money-pots of the joint-stock merchant association and Wildwillow City, the effectiveness of The Golden Company’s manpower and financial resources would be diminished in comparison to the Randell Fief.

In the long run, with the power of the Alchemy Tower and the Randell family, it wouldn’t be difficult for Victor to start from scratch and rebuild another Golden Company. But in his heart, Victor didn’t want to one day find himself at odds with Sophia. She wouldn’t stand a chance, and she was so beautiful and stubborn; once a rift formed, their relationship would be difficult to mend. And all of it would have been of Victor’s own making.

Besides their marital bond, Victor had almost no means of controlling Sophia.

“My dear, don’t be in such a hurry to go to the Dodor Kingdom. I already have a vague idea that could help you escape your predicament completely.” Victor paused, then shook his head. “I still need a little more time to refine this idea.”

“Really?” Sophia’s eyes lit up, but then she said suspiciously, “You’re not just trying to make me happy, are you? Tell me a little bit, and then I’ll believe you.”

“Er… the key to solving the problem lies in the fact that the Stag Merchants’ Guild isn’t loyal enough.” Victor had no choice but to offer a little substance to his claim, giving her a hint.

“Not loyal enough?” Sophia furrowed her lovely brows, thinking for a long time, before finally asking in a soft, alluring voice, her eyes like silk, “My dear, could you be a little more specific?”

“Don’t use your charm Nature. Right now, my mind is completely filled with you… I’ve forgotten all my ideas!”

Victor tapped his head in frustration. A moment later, cool red lips pressed against his, and a soft, fragrant tongue slipped into his mouth, its sweet taste intoxicating.

After kissing her husband for a long time, Sophia licked her luscious red lips and asked with a grin, “Remember now?”

“This is terrible, now I’ve forgotten everything.”

“Hmph! To help you remember, you’ll be sleeping alone tonight!”

“Oh, I remembered a little something. First, we need to win Sylvia’s support. Otherwise, if she cuts off trade between Naville and the Stag Merchants’ Guild, you’ll have no choice but to be a good little Viscountess Randell.”

“Yes, that is the most crucial problem.” Sophia’s face was clouded with worry. Looking as delicate as the legendary beauty Xizi clutching her heart, she asked, “When will you go see her?”

Victor gave up on the idea of activating X-3, quietly savoring the wonderful feeling of her charm Nature. He said, “Today, the Senate is holding a meeting to discuss the Fishman War and the matter of building a port. Sylvia will definitely be there as an observer. I’ll go see her now. My dear, are you satisfied with my attitude?”

“Of course. Tomorrow evening, Natalya and I will be sure to prepare a family dinner and await the return of my love.” Sophia gave a mock curtsy, lifting her skirts in an elegant gesture.

“It’s funny, really. We’re also Marquesses of the Royal Capital, yet we don’t have a seat in the Senate.” Victor shook his head and walked toward the inner quarters of the Marquess’s estate.

Before leaving the garden, Victor stopped, turned, and said, “Oh, right. If the King of Dodor dares to pester you relentlessly… I will kill him.”

Gazing at her little husband’s confident and powerful back, Sophia felt that the sunlight in the estate’s garden had never been so bright.

Chapter 424: Each Gets What They Need

Sunlight streamed through the windows of the Senate, casting a row of bright spots on the birchwood floor. In the vast conference hall sat a single young nobleman.

He had a pair of pure, amber eyes and appeared to be around twenty-five years of age. Dressed in brand-new Marquis’s ceremonial robes, he sat leisurely in the seat reserved for the Sorim family. Perhaps he was recalling some fond and amusing memory, for a warm smile hung on his handsome face, softening his slightly stern features and making him seem like a refined, approachable young scholar.

However, a brownish airflow, now visible, now hidden, swirled around his body, reflecting the light in his amber eyes. An invisible force field enveloped a one-meter radius around the young noble, and the air in the room grew still as the void earth element manifested. Yet, whenever the brown current touched the solid wood tables and chairs, it dissolved into a cloud of dust and vanished without a trace. The heavy earth element seemed to be nothing more than an insubstantial phantom.

Only an Earth Knight who had resonated with thirty-six Elemental Nodes could make the lazy, heavy void earth element so lively and agile, switching between solid and ethereal at will, as pliant as their own limbs.

A figure as imposing as a lion burst into the conference room. The oppressive weight in the room immediately vanished, and the stagnant air began to flow again. Two pairs of amber eyes met, and the phenomenal force field around the young noble disintegrated as if it had never been there.

If a Silver Earth Knight was a lord of the void earth element, then a Gold Earth Knight was its king. When the king arrived, even the most powerful lord had to put aside his arrogance and show respect.

Marquess Golan’s thick brows furrowed as he said in a deep voice, “Your Excellency Sorim, have you lost control of even the void element?”

“Not at all. This is my first time attending a Senate meeting, and I couldn’t resist showing off a little.” The young noble smiled and nodded, his expression calm and sincere. His amber eyes had already turned brown.

Marquess Golan nodded. “Your Excellency Sorim, you are in excellent condition. I sincerely hope this is not the last Senate meeting you attend. So, for this meeting, you are not planning to arrange for a Scribe?”

The Senate did not welcome Extraordinary Knights at its meetings. They exerted a strong pressure on mortals and regular knights, and could even influence the will of the attendees.

If a Senate family appointed an Extraordinary Knight to a meeting, the other families could only respond by sending a powerhouse of the same rank. Since the Senate’s discussions concerned the fundamental interests of the lords’ coalition, arguments and insults were inevitable. It was one thing for regular nobles to slam tables and kick chairs. Extraordinary Knights would not be so crude; they would simply channel the void elements to express their intense displeasure. The meeting hall would be filled with elemental torrents, making it impossible to hold a meeting. They might as well just have a fistfight.

And in a fistfight, who could possibly beat Sylvia? Besides, how could the strength of an Extraordinary powerhouse represent the full power of a political faction?

Mortals were the main actors in the Senate. To avoid mistakes, attendees usually stationed their family think tanks in the Senate’s rest areas. Their respective scribes would record the meeting’s proceedings and relay the information to the think tanks, helping the attendees make the right decisions.

Sylvia respected the Senate’s traditions and remained in the York family’s rest area to listen in. But the old Marquess Sorim’s days were numbered, so his personal attendance was something no one could really object to. Marquess Golan, for his part, had to be present to maintain order and ensure the meeting could proceed normally.

“All family matters that needed to be arranged have been arranged. As a descendant of Sorim, I have a clear conscience. Right now, I am more concerned with whether I can take that final step.”

Marquess Sorim rose and bowed. “Your Highness, although I am twenty-two years your senior, you are the forerunner on the path of a Knight. I hope to receive Your Highness’s guidance.”

“I would be delighted to see another ‘Highness’ in Gambia.” Marquess Golan returned a Knight’s salute and nodded. “Feel free to ask about anything that puzzles you, Your Excellency.”

“About three years ago, I felt a summons from the Elemental Sea. As time passed, the urgency from the void earth element grew stronger. My appearance began to grow younger, and my body and Aura reached an unprecedented peak. Yet, I can’t seem to find the gate into the Elemental Sea.” Marquess Sorim shook his head and mused, “An ancestor of House Sorim who was a ‘Highness’ once spoke of the importance and method of forging a Knight’s conviction, but he did not elaborate on the details of communicating with the Elemental Sea. I wish to learn from Your Highness about what to pay attention to during the Trial of Life and Death.”

Marquess Golan nodded. “The root of a Knight’s power is perfect control, both internal and external. The balance of the four major elements—earth, fire, wind, and water—creates a perfect cycle. But the structure of a perfect cycle is exceedingly stable, which greatly limits the potential for improvement. Therefore, a Knight’s advancement is actually a process of breaking that balance and re-establishing perfection.”

“The Gold Knight ancestors of House Sorim belonged to the Silver Bloodline. They were naturally able to stir the Elemental Sea and use its disturbance to break the balance that limits the progression from Bronze to Silver. Therefore, for a Silver Bloodline, the key to advancing to Gold Knight lies only in their own conviction.”

“But we Gold Knights of the Bronze Bloodline have faced two problems: breaking the balance and establishing conviction. To put it simply, we have no door. We can only draw the attention of the Elemental Sea by slamming against the wall, getting it to open a door for us, and then going in and coming out alive.”

“Breaking the balance is no simple matter. Only the intense stimulation between life and death can break through the limitations of perfection.” Golan sighed. “During my time as a Knight, I was forced through a trial of life and death. I survived by a stroke of luck, which led to today’s achievements. In reality, the higher a Knight’s rank, the more terrifying the trial. That is why so few Silver Knights can pass the Trial of Life and Death. My advice to you is to forget everything, attune yourself to the nature of the earth element—be calm and tenacious, and fight to the death without retreat!”

“Thank you for your guidance, Your Highness,” the old Marquess said, bowing solemnly.

“Then, the meeting can begin.”

Marquess Golan found a chair and sat down in a corner of the conference room.

The attendees from the Senate families filed in one after another, each accompanied by five or six scribes. Once everyone was seated, the spacious conference room suddenly seemed rather crowded.

This was an exceptionally important meeting, one that concerned the long-term interests of the Kingdom of Gambia. A Gold Knight was present to keep order, the Regent was presiding, and powerful lords not only attended in person but also brought their families’ teams of scholar-advisors. Meanwhile, the vassal lords of the Senate families waited anxiously in the rest areas. Whenever a scribe, as diligent as a worker bee, ran into a rest area to announce the meeting’s progress, they would all chime in with the scholar-advisors, discussing every point item by item, then watch with bated breath as the scribe carried their counsel back to their suzerain in the meeting.

At first, the powerful lords managed to maintain their noble decorum in the presence of Marquess Golan and the Regent. But as time went on, the volume of their arguments grew louder, punctuated by the thump, thump of fists hitting tables. This was probably why the Senate only used cheap furniture.

Finally, a roar from Duke Enbise York ignited the passions in the hall. A chorus of curses, taunts, and noble-specific greetings erupted. Even the venerable Regent Williams began to rant furiously. The bee-like scribes shuttled back and forth between the conference hall and the family rest areas, their faces flushed with an astonishing red as one announced excitedly, “Duke York called our master a despicable, shameless scoundrel who only knows how to imitate Goldwater City’s goods. He also called our master a curly-haired sheep.”

“‘Curly-haired sheep’? Curly-haired sheep follow the bellwether’s rear end all day long, not even realizing when they’ve fallen off a cliff. He’s calling our master brainless and stupid!” a scholar sputtered, spittle flying. “Tell our master to tell Duke York to eat fewer cakes, and that the large, straw-stuffed leather balls are especially popular right now.”

“What does that mean?” the scribe pressed.

The scholar berated him, “Idiot! You don’t even get that? The York family uses pig stomachs to make those straw-stuffed leather balls… It’s the same as calling Duke York a fat pig, and a greedy, straw-stuffed idiot!”

This was destined to be a long meeting. The Senate’s conference hall was now no different from a noisy market.

And a market is noisy for only one reason: money.

With the port not yet built, it was too early to discuss the distribution of benefits from pioneering the Southern Continent. The lords were arguing endlessly over money.

In fact, the important matters had already been discussed before the meeting was convened.

Sophia had regretfully informed Victor that she had chosen to build the port in Chapman territory. The budget to build a port in the Randell Fief was over 2.4 million Gold Sols, a full 600,000 more than in Chapman territory. On top of that, she had to pay 800,000 in military funds for the Fishman War. Her total expenditure exceeded 2.6 million, which was half of her entire fortune.

2.6 million Gold Sols was a fat prize that everyone wanted a bite of. But the Centaur Hills could only look on helplessly.

The Regent’s reasoning was sound. Marchioness Wimbledon was funding the port, so she had the right to choose its location. If the Centaur Hills wanted a port, they would have to fund it themselves. If the York family had that kind of money, they should first focus on building those three fortresses. After all, the kingdom had granted the York family a twenty-year tax exemption and allocated 1.2 million Gold Sols from the treasury to cover the quarrying, processing, and transportation of stone for the fortresses.

Of course, the Regent still saved some face for Sylvia. The York family would receive 20,000 Gold Sols in military funds for the Fishman War. This was only because the York family’s shoreline was cleaner than if a dog had gnawed on it, with only a few schools of fish here and there. Even if they wanted to contribute more troops, they had no excuse.

The other families, busy dividing up the remaining 2.58 million Gold Sols, were too happy to care. Who would speak up for the Centaur Hills?

Everyone unanimously agreed that the main forces guarding the kingdom’s western border should remain vigilant against a突袭 by the Ant-man tide. A small matter like the Fishman War could be left to them.

The Chapman family received the largest slice of the cake. They were responsible for the labor and raw materials for the port, which would net them a profit of at least two to three hundred thousand Gold Sols. The strange thing was, the southern lords’ rest area was even more deserted than the York family’s. Marquess Sorim hadn’t even brought a scribe and seemed unprepared to join the discussion. The southern lord families were probably at Earl Chapman’s residence discussing the details of their cooperation.

The Joshua family was the second-largest beneficiary. As the masters of Deepwater City, they were experts in port and shipyard construction. Sophia had paid the Joshua family 100,000 Gold Sols for the port’s design. Moreover, the shoreline controlled by the Joshua family was adjacent to Lake Fies, where the fishman population was quite dense, making it the primary designated battlefield for Gambia. Therefore, in addition to collecting a handsome sum in military funds, the Joshua family could also sell supplies to the other lords’ armies, earning a substantial profit.

In Victor’s eyes, Sophia was undoubtedly the biggest loser.

Spending 2.6 million Gold Sols just to get the barbarians across the river, and getting nothing else in return.

What a spendthrift lady… even if you couldn’t get ownership of the port, securing permanent leasing rights to four berths would have been something… The fishing industry on the Goldwater River is an inexhaustible source of wealth.

Victor was heartbroken by Sophia’s miscalculation, beating his chest in frustration over the immature commercial rules of the human kingdoms. But his ideas were without legal basis.

A fief’s wealth belongs to its lord. A port built on someone’s land belongs to them. Victor would never agree to overthrow this Lord’s Law.

It was precisely because of this provision in the Radiant Code that the Church’s clergy were kept from secularization, and the interests of the Knight-Nobles were protected. At the same time, it constrained the power of the suzerain, creating a rule of the game: “you can take by cunning, but not by force.”

In Auguste’s eyes, Sophia’s wealth belonged to Aerie Fortress. The Royal Family letting her keep 1.9 million Gold Sols was purely out of respect for the legendary barbarian Elder. Sophia knew very well that if she broke her promise to the barbarians, she would lose her greatest political asset. That was why she was willing to spend more than half her fortune to fulfill the Elder’s request.

The Chapman family had paid far, far too little to deserve the port. But Aerie Fortress’s methods for acquiring the port’s territory couldn’t be too crude. Marriage was a legal basis for dividing territory; exchanging benefits was the unwritten rule for seeking it. The moribund House Sorim became a sacrifice in the game between Aerie Fortress and the regional lords. But even so, the Regent had to put in quite an effort to hand Copper City over to the Chapman family.

Two months ago, Sylvia had invited the future Archbishop and Marquess Sorim to a tea party. Williams immediately had the current Archbishop strip House Sorim of its Minting Rights, thereby severing the ties between the Church and House Sorim, turning Copper City into a lamb for the slaughter.

However, Aerie Fortress did not wield the knife to slaughter the lamb; instead, it protected it.

The King, as suzerain, could not interfere, nor could he allow others to interfere, with a family’s legal right of succession. This was the bottom line of the game’s rules.

If the old Marquess Sorim successfully advanced through his bloody trial, Copper City would remain Sorim’s Copper City. If he unfortunately fell, the lamb would seek the Chapman family’s protection on its own. Aerie Fortress had merely laid the groundwork in advance, without violating its duties as suzerain.

This meeting of the Senate seemed to have nothing to do with the York and Sorim families anymore.

Duke York did not think so. Just as everyone was heatedly discussing troop deployment ratios, he posed the crucial question.

How many ships can one port handle? Without enough ships, how can you transport enough soldiers to the Southern Continent? Without enough soldiers, how can you establish a foothold there? The Kingdom of Borea’s seventy thousand pioneers were pushed back by the barbarians of the South Shore. If Gambia doesn’t have a pioneer army of one hundred and twenty thousand, then it shouldn’t take the risk.

Therefore, the Centaur Hills needed to build a port.

Pioneering new territory was the very basis for convening the Senate. When it came to the matter of pioneering, the lords all nodded in agreement, but one sentence from Williams left them all speechless.

“If you want to do it, do it yourselves. Aerie Fortress has no money. If you have the money to support the Centaur Hills in building a port, we might as well talk about the New Tax.”

The Senate’s agenda shifted from building a port and deploying troops to discussing the New Tax. The lords and the Regent were now at loggerheads.

Duke York, enjoying the show, timely produced a personal letter from Viscount Randell, which stated: Raven Town welcomes the Royal Capital’s tax collectors.

Everyone finally understood. Sylvia and Williams had a tacit understanding; each had gotten what they needed.

“Sophia disregarded the bigger picture of the southern expansion strategy by refusing to invest in a second port in the Centaur Hills. Aerie Fortress will first reprimand her, then strip her of her title, and then rebuild the Wimbledon Merchant Association. As Viscountess Randell, wouldn’t her remaining 1.9 million Gold Sols be your money?” Sylvia took a sip of her coffee, speaking with deep satisfaction.

Victor couldn’t feel happy at all.

His wife was immensely wealthy, of noble blood, extraordinarily powerful, had a retinue of loyal knights, and was backed by a Gold-rank barbarian Berserker and two barbarian Weapon Masters… If she were to become the mistress of Silver Moon Manor, the House of Randell was truly in for a seismic shift.

“My money is your money… but your money is still your money,” Victor said with a pained expression, setting down his cup of fragrant Snow Ear Tea.

Sylvia paused for a moment, then beamed, grabbing Victor’s head and kissing him on the lips for a long time. She then said with a lilting laugh, “Darling, that’s the most beautiful sweet nothing… I’ll be sure to reward you handsomely tonight.”

Victor licked his lips, still savoring the taste, and looked up to ask, “Have you thought about Nicole?”

“My problem is your problem, but your problem is still your problem.”

Sylvia said with a cunning smile, “I believe with my love’s charm, there’s no female knight you can’t handle, including Her Majesty the Queen Mother.”

Victor rubbed his nose awkwardly and muttered, “I feel like you’ve got that backwards…”

Sylvia knelt in Victor’s embrace, her body shaking with laughter. After a long moment, she said, “My love, you really do have self-awareness.”

Just as Victor was about to offer a jest in return, his ears twitched. He frowned and said, “The Senate has gone quiet. What happened?”

Sylvia tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and said coolly, “That old fellow Sorim has finally counterattacked… He just proposed an interesting topic… Heh, very interesting indeed.”

Chapter 425: Reasonable Support

Marquis Sorim knocked on the table, and the boisterous conference hall instantly fell silent.

No one could scorn the dignity of an earth Knight, especially one on the verge of his final transformation. Nor could anyone ignore the opinion of a great lord; though House Sorim’s Bronze Bloodline was in decline, the army of Copper City still reigned supreme among the southern lords.

“This might be the last Senate meeting I attend… so I’ll be blunt about a few things.”

The old Marquess was pleased with the lords’ attitude. He raised his voice and said, “Before the Kingdom of Gambia was founded, House Sorim established a settlement on the north bank of the Goldwater River. That was 632 years ago. As the guardians of Gambia’s southern border, House Sorim has a history of 364 years.”

“Although we are the Guardians of the South, all you lords here are well aware of the situation in the southern part of the kingdom… It’s surrounded by mountains, making travel difficult. The Fishmen on the banks of the Goldwater River and the Forest Centaurs to the west all keep to themselves and don’t bother Copper City… I must admit, for a long time, House Sorim’s contribution to the kingdom has been far, far too little. As the Guardian of the South, the title is undeserved.” The old Marquess sighed, his voice low.

Too little contribution, an undeserved title.

This single sentence encapsulated the fundamental reason for House Sorim’s decline. Upon hearing it, the four great dukes couldn’t help but sigh in lament.

House Sorim had once been a Court Earl of the Randt Imperial Family. To counterbalance the growing power of the Auguste lordly faction, the Imperial Family had invested Sorim as the Empire’s Guardian of the South, tasking them with leading a Legion to develop the wastelands on the north bank of the Goldwater River and form a pincer movement against Auguste from the north and south.

When the Neovys family fell from power, House Sorim pledged allegiance to the Iris-Sparrow family. But there was a natural rift between Sorim and Auguste, so much so that they renounced the ducal title of Gambia and refused to marry noblewomen from the Royal Capital.

The Knights of Gambia’s great families answered Aerie Fortress’s call, marching north to the Dodor Kingdom to fight the invading Sassans. Only House Sorim dragged its feet, dispatching just a small number of their vassals’ soldiers in response to the King’s Call to Arms. The allied forces of Gambia’s lords harbored resentment toward House Sorim, so of course, the soldiers from Copper City met a bad end.

The elite soldiers of Copper City were always wiped out. This further convinced House Sorim that Auguste was targeting them, so they stopped sending even their vassals’ soldiers, instead using prisoners, refugees, and Mountain folk to pose as family troops just to go through the motions.

This situation exacerbated the conflict between the lords of Gambia and Copper City. The Knightly families of Dodor and Naville also looked coldly upon the insular House Sorim, unwilling to form marriage alliances with Copper City.

Without external enemies, internal strife breeds. While the Knights of other families shed their blood on the battlefield, the number of Knights in House Sorim grew and grew, and they married noblewomen from minor families. Bronze Knights sired apprentice knights, and apprentice knights sired regular nobles. The vast number of noble offspring became entangled with one another, and the internal struggle for interests within House Sorim grew increasingly fierce.

Buriatt and Chapman were both losers in Sorim’s internal strife. Not only were they driven out of Copper City, but they were also stripped of the Sorim surname. Acting as independent lords of Gambia, they instead gradually managed to create opportunities for themselves.

Aerie Fortress seized the opportunity, trading high-quality cleansing potions for Copper City’s resources and completely disrupting Sorim’s Bronze Bloodline. This ultimately led to House Sorim’s disintegration.

“Your Highness the Regent, on behalf of House Sorim, I accept the stationing of the Royal Capital’s tax collectors in Copper City.” The old Marquess stood up and bowed deeply to Williams.

Conceding only now… isn’t it a bit too late… Enbise thought with a sigh.

The York family once had similar worries to House Sorim. But Fanged City was situated on flat plains with no natural defenses, and the York family’s strength and Bloodline were inferior to Sorim’s. Fanged City had no choice but to do its utmost to curry favor with Auguste. In the war against the Sasan Empire, compared to Joshua, Wellington, and Nim, the Knights of the York family always undertook the most dangerous missions and showed no mercy to the Sasan Knights. The first High-ranked Knight from Gambia to be sacrificed came from Fanged City, and the York family had more than fifteen Knights killed in action or captured.

Thanks to the heroic efforts of their Knights, Fanged City not only integrated into Gambia but also won the respect of the nobles of Dodor and Naville. Through the introduction of a great lord from Naville, the York family was taken on as a supporting ally by the Blanstait family. They exchanged scions to preserve their Bronze Bloodline and finally gained a firm foothold in the eastern part of the kingdom.

Even so, the York family was still severely suppressed by the Royal Family. The area of Fanged City’s actually controlled territory shrank by nearly thirty percent, which was used to settle the attendant knight-lords of Aerie Fortress, while the land that Deepwater City gave up was pitifully small. The Yorks and Joshuas were in constant friction, viewing each other with hostility. Those peripheral lords were all turncoats, constantly causing trouble for Fanged City.

The combined suppression and infiltration by the Royal Family and the Joshua family caused the York family’s overall strength to hit rock bottom among Gambia’s great lords. Otherwise, Ryan Auguste would never have dared to partition the three eastern provinces in the presence of a Spirit Knight. In the end, Aerie Fortress shot itself in the foot, and even the future Queen became a Guardian of the York family.

You can’t be too bold, but you can’t be too timid either… What was it Victor used to say? It’s like walking on ice—you must be cautious, yet advance boldly… Enbise York glanced at Williams, then at Marquis Sorim, and then at Duke Joshua, and he couldn’t help but straighten his back.

If he had a waist, that is.

“As for the specific details of the New Tax collection, that will be handled by my successor. I will not discuss it.” The old Marquis Sorim looked around and continued, “Building ports and ships to cross the river and expand south concerns the future of Gambia. As the kingdom’s Guardian of the South, I have a suggestion.”

“Your Excellency Sorim, please speak freely,” the Regent said with a gesture.

The old Marquess’s gaze turned to Enbise, and he said with a smile, “I completely agree with Duke York’s view. If Gambia wishes to expand south, it must have sufficient ports and ships. However, in the section of the Goldwater River from the Centaur Hills to Sorim territory, both banks are mountainous, with few riverbanks suitable for port construction. Moreover, the channel is narrow and the current is rather swift. It is difficult for large sailing ships to cross; they can only follow the river downstream, gradually approaching the South Shore, and then they must search for a suitable place to land and build a port.”

“Have any of you considered how our ships would return to port if they were to travel upstream?”

The hall fell silent for a moment, the only sound being the scratching of the scribes’ quills on parchment.

The white-haired Duke Joshua narrowed his eyes and chimed in with a smile, “Your Excellency Sorim need not worry about ships traveling against the current. Every Season of Wind, the large fishing and hunting vessels of the Kingdom of Borea use the monsoon winds to travel upstream for over a thousand kilometers, entering Lake Fornas near the Kingdom of Sus, where they cast their nets and hunt Water Lizards. Our warships can certainly…”

“They can sail into Lake Fies first, and when the Season of Wind arrives, the warships can then set sail westward from Lake Fies and return to a port nearly a thousand kilometers away.”

Marquis Sorim, with a wooden expression, cut Duke Joshua off. He then said, “None of you lords spoke just now. It’s clear that everyone understands that the shores of Lake Fies in the southern part of the kingdom’s eastern territories are the best location for building ports.”

“Since we’re going to launch a Fishman War, and since we’re going to build two ports upstream, why can’t we build one more on the shores of Lake Fies, where the geographical conditions are far superior?”

As if on command, the scribes all rolled up their meeting minutes. With hurried steps and anxious expressions, they left the conference room and ran toward their respective rest chambers.

The Goldwater River flows from west to east, stretching for tens of thousands of kilometers. In its stretch within Gambia, the North Shore is dense with hills, while the South Shore is mostly sheer cliffs, completely unsuitable for crossing and landing. Fortunately, the Goldwater River flows through the southeastern corner of Gambia, where it converges into the largest lake in the human world—Lake Fies.

Lake Fies covers an area of over 100,000 square kilometers. The lake extends over 700 kilometers from east to west and is over 300 kilometers wide at its broadest point. The northern shoreline alone is more than 1,900 kilometers long, lined with dense forests, gentle terrain, and many shallows. Four major tributaries of the Goldwater River flow into the lake. Besides the Blinor River and the Saint Louis River, the other two great rivers, the Pituru River and the Sorrowful Red River, both originate from the Southern Continent.

It is said that over ten thousand years ago, to escape the slaughter by the Chosen, the Barbarians of the north gathered in the millions, felled forests to build rafts, broke through the obstruction of the Fishmen, and set off from the northern shore of Lake Fies, escaping to the Southern Continent via the Sorrowful Red River.

If the Barbarians’ rafts could cross Lake Fies, what of Gambia’s large warships?

In fact, Gambia’s warships would have to sail into Lake Fies first before looking for a suitable landing spot. And the Barony of Krumen, in the Kingdom of Gambia, is located at the mouth of Lake Fies. The current there is gentle, and it is only 43 kilometers from the shoals of the southern shore. The Krumen fief is the perfect location for building a port.

If the Barony of Krumen had a port, Gambia’s ships could come and go as they please. Warships traveling between north and south wouldn’t have to wait for the monsoon season before sailing westward against the current, back to the distant Port Chapman and Port Rose.

Everyone knew that the Barony of Krumen’s geographical conditions were uniquely advantageous, but no one, apart from the old Marquis Sorim, mentioned it.

There were two other major powers on the northern shore of Lake Fies: the Kingdom of Ayr and the territory of the Randt Empire. If Gambia were to launch a Fishman War at the mouth of Lake Fies, Nachtigal and Neovys would certainly seize the opportunity to raise their armies, clear out the massive population of lakeside Fishmen, and build their own ports.

Once Gambia’s Fishman War became a joint Fishman War of three great powers, it would become a matter of political stance. King Ryan had fallen at the hands of the Randt Emperor, and Gambia could absolutely not allow the Randt Imperial territory to grow strong again.

The laughable thing was, the Randt Emperor was still the nominal liege lord of the Kingdom of Gambia, so Marquis Sorim’s proposal could not be considered treason.

Duke Joshua, as the Guardian of the Kingdom’s eastern territories and Baron Krumen’s suzerain, had to make his political stance clear. He didn’t even need the advice of his family’s think tank.

“I object!”

Duke Joshua rose from his seat. He first glanced at the smiling Regent, then his gaze swept across the hall before he spoke in a calm and composed manner, “The number of Fishmen on the northern shore of Lake Fies exceeds one million. Provoking them is tantamount to launching an all-out war. Everyone must not have forgotten that the Five Great Families of Borea fought the Fishman War for a full eighty years just to clear out the riverbank Fishmen, and were pushed to the brink of collapse. We absolutely must not repeat the same mistake! Gambia’s mountainous riverbanks are our greatest strategic advantage, because the number of Fishmen there is relatively small, with their population scattered among various riverbanks, making them easier to deal with.”

“Our so-called Fishman War is mainly about luring away the riverbank Fishmen in order to build our ports. It is absolutely not about mobilizing the entire kingdom’s strength to fight a meaningless racial war, only to hand an advantage to our neighbors for free.”

“How can the strength of Borea’s Five Great Families back then compare to Gambia’s today? And how can the Fishmen of Lake Fies be compared to the Fishmen of the Great River Bend?”

Marquis Sorim pushed back his chair, walked before Williams, and knelt on one knee. He said in a low, heavy voice, “Your Highness, I swear that House Sorim has never committed any act of betrayal against Auguste. Not in the past, not now, and not ever in the future.”

Williams nodded. “Mm, I am certain of that.”

“Your Highness, the Theocracy of Ayr’s main forces are in the eastern Sasan lands and the Twilight Forest of Sus. The strength of the Neovys and Nachtigal families alone is insufficient to clear out the Fishmen of Lake Fies, let alone build ports. But the great expansion has become a consensus among humanity. When the nations let down their guard against one another, when we and the Kingdom of Borea achieve success on the Southern Continent, the Church will surely need its own ports. I believe that even if the Radiant Knights cannot be spared, the Kingdom of Sus will cooperate with the Theocracy of Ayr to build a few ports on the shores of Lake Fies. In that case, why can’t we unite and clear out the Fishmen of Lake Fies together?”

Williams said with an amiable smile, “I’m more inclined to believe the Kingdom of Sus will develop the Eastern Alliance, or cooperate with the Kingdom of Borea… Your Excellency Sorim, please continue stating your views.”

The old Marquis Sorim lowered his head and said in a heavy voice, “His Highness Golan showed me the path to advancement, and I need a spectacular battle. House Sorim is ashamed of its failure as Guardian of the South, having not fulfilled its duties to the kingdom. I am willing to offer one million, five hundred thousand Gold Sols to fund the construction of a port on Lake Fies and will summon five thousand elite soldiers from Copper City to act as the main force for slaughtering the Fishmen. If I die on the lake’s shore, let it be atonement for House Sorim’s past failings. If I am fortunate enough to step into the Gold realm, House Sorim is willing to be the sharp sword in Your Highness’s hand, to clear a path for Gambia on the Southern Continent, and will not shirk from it, even in the face of ten thousand deaths.”

House Sorim was making a last-ditch struggle. Williams felt this was a very thorny problem.

A king should create favorable conditions for a High-ranked Knight’s advancement. Marquis Sorim was betting all his family’s wealth and power and swearing fealty to the Royal Family. If Aerie Fortress still refused him, it would make Auguste seem to lack any kingly magnanimity. Not only would Williams be put in a very awkward position, but it would also sow discord among the other lords.

If Williams accepted Marquis Sorim’s request, Gambia would inevitably have to cooperate with the Neovys family. Williams would rather cut off Neovys’s head, so how could he possibly form an alliance with the Randt Emperor?

Marquess Golan sat quietly in a corner like a lifeless statue. Williams withdrew his gaze, tapped the armrest of his chair, and said calmly, “Your Excellency Sorim, please rise.” With that, the Regent stood up and addressed the crowd, “I personally support Marquis Sorim’s proposal, but I do not have a vote. Now, regarding Marquis Sorim’s proposal, I ask you lords to cast your votes.”

“Opposed.”

“Opposed.”

“Opposed.”

Amidst a chorus of opposition, it was the York family’s turn. Enbise took the letter the scribe had just handed him, glanced at it, and said in a low voice, “The York family seconds the motion.”

The hall fell into a deathly silence. Everyone stared at Duke York in disbelief. Even Marquess Golan opened his eyes.

Williams was the first to react, saying, “Only Duke York seconds the motion. Your Excellency Sorim’s proposal cannot pass.”

The old Marquess gave a carefree smile and said, “In that case, I will take my leave. I shall soon be heading north to see if the Centaur clans of the Northern Wildlands are as wild as their reputation suggests.”

“May your martial fortunes flourish, Your Excellency Sorim. May your longsword drink its fill of enemy blood, and may you ascend to the peak.” Everyone stood, bowed, and said in unison.

Marquis Sorim said nothing and walked toward the wooden doors of the conference room. Just before leaving, he turned and nodded to Duke York. “Your Excellency, please convey my regards to Her Highness Sylvia.”

After Marquis Sorim had left the conference room, Enbise jiggled the fat on his cheeks, lowered his head, and muttered in a voice everyone could hear, “You should be conveying your regards to Viscount Randell…”

Now the attendees’ gazes grew even more peculiar. Enbise felt that throwing Victor under the bus like this was a bit inappropriate. He quickly thought of a way to mitigate the political fallout and continued to mutter in a low voice, “That fellow is head over heels for the young Miss from the Chapman family and doesn’t want her to marry someone else… Sigh, he truly has no sense of what’s important.”

Everyone’s eyes shot in unison to the Regent. Williams said with a stern face, “Let’s move on to the next item on the agenda.”

Brinol, the York family’s residence.

Sylvia, her arms crossed, complained coquettishly to Victor, who was examining a map, “You owe me a reasonable explanation. Why did you support Marquis Sorim’s proposal? This puts us in a very passive position!”

Victor looked up and said with a smile, “Because it was reasonable.”

“It’s precisely because building a port on the shores of Lake Fies is so reasonable!”

Chapter 426: Uninvited Guests

“My dear, come look.”

Victor wrapped an arm around Sylvia’s slender waist and pointed at the beast-hide map on the table. “The Kingdom of Ayr is the political center of the human world, and also its largest hub for goods and resources. The tithes from the Eastern Alliance and the Kingdom of Borea converge in Ayr via the trade routes of the Kingdom of Sus. The tithes from the Sasan Empire and the Warton Great Plains flow into Ayr through the Kingdom of Naville. And the tithes from the Dodor Kingdom arrive through the trade routes of Gambis.”

“The vast majority of the tithes paid by lords are kept by the local bishops for their own use, so the total amount of goods transported to Ayr is small and more symbolic. Because of this, the various cardinals and the Holy See often entrust large merchant guilds with transporting the tithes and relief aid. The guilds’ caravans can’t be expected to make a trip to Ayr just for the Church. Their primary business is trade, and they transport the Church’s goods along the way. Over time, the Royal Capital of Ayr has become the largest trading city in the human realms.”

“If there were a port on the shores of Lake Fies within Ayr’s territory, the goods from our Centaur Hills could travel directly to the trade center via the Goldwater River waterway. During the Season of Wind, the fleet could then bring back purchased goods to Port Rose. By my calculations, the cost of shipping by water is only twenty percent that of overland transport. Moreover, the fleet can travel freely, without having to pay transit taxes to the lords along the way. This means the Centaur Hills can break free from the exploitation of caravans and lords, and our profits from sales could increase by at least five times!”

“My dear, do you know what a five-fold increase in profit means?”

Victor released Sylvia, planted his hands on the beast-hide map, and said with exuberant passion, “The Randell Fief’s sales revenue in Wildwillow City last year was nineteen thousand Gold Sol. After deducting all costs and labor, the net profit was no more than two thousand Gold Sol. If the profit quintuples, that’s ten thousand Gold Sol…”

“Wait.” Sylvia’s beautiful eyes widened in surprise. “Enbise told me he earned eighteen thousand Gold Sol in Wildwillow City last year, and fifty-four thousand in Goldwater City. How did the Randell Fief earn so little?”

Victor paused for a moment before realizing Sylvia didn’t understand the difference between revenue and profit.

Most fiefs operated on a self-sufficient agricultural economy. Lords had no clear concept of trade profits and production costs. Take animal husbandry, for example. Once cattle and sheep were grown, they were sold off quickly, with no consideration for costs like feed or sales. After all, the grass in the fief grew back after being cut, and the wages for laborers were pitifully low. Selling the surplus livestock was pure wealth; only what was left to rot was considered a loss.

“My dear, revenue and profit are not the same thing. You can think of profit as additional income… Let’s put it this way, if not for the market in Wildwillow City, I’m afraid I wouldn’t have even earned a profit of two thousand Gold Sol.”

Victor explained with a bit of a headache. Seeing Sylvia’s lack of interest, he decided to throw out something that would pique her curiosity. “Once the Goldwater River waterway is opened, it’s tantamount to breaking Aerie Fortress’s blockade of the Centaur Hills. Mithril, medicinal herbs, and silk from the Twilight Forest, raw iron and gold ore from Naville, and even Adamantine and Breadfruit from the Boreans can all be shipped directly to the Centaur Hills via the Goldwater River.”

And fire element crystals and Thorium ore, Victor added silently in his mind.

Sylvia nodded and said thoughtfully, “Continue, I’m listening.”

“Have you noticed? Lake Fies is also a territory waiting to be developed.” Victor tapped a spot on the map. “If the shallow waters on the North Shore of Lake Fies can support a million Fishmen, how much wealth does the entire lake hold? According to the principle of ‘he who develops it, owns it,’ neither Ayr nor the Randt Imperial territory will stand by and watch the people of Gambis plunder the riches of Lake Fies. The old Marquess Sorim’s assessment was spot on—Ayr will certainly build a port on the lake. It’s only a matter of time.”

Sylvia rested her left arm on the table and propped her delicate chin with her right hand. The curve of her slender waist dipped, accentuating the full, round curve of her hips. She looked up and saw her lover’s fervent gaze fixed on her waist and hips, and couldn’t help but say with a mock pout, “You had no intention of supporting Marquis Sorim’s proposal to build a port at the mouth of Lake Fies. You knew his proposal was bound to be opposed by everyone. But Marquis Sorim would leak the details of the meeting. All the lords of Gambis are against allying with the Randt Imperial territory to fight the lakeside Fishmen; only the York family expressed support. When Neowist eventually builds a lakeside port, you can use this to establish good diplomatic relations with the Imperial territory.”

“My dear Lady, isn’t that precisely why you agreed with me?”

Victor sat down next to Sylvia, his right hand naughtily stroking her waist and hip. “The mouth of Lake Fies is a strategic point. If Aerie Fortress controls it, they can blockade the Goldwater River waterway. Even if we had a port and warships, we’d be trapped. So Aerie Fortress will definitely build a port at the mouth of Lake Fies. When Neowist takes the initiative to launch a Fishman War, they’ll seize the opportunity to rush construction of a port in the Barony of Krumen, thereby grabbing the throat of the Goldwater River and seizing the upper hand in developing the Southern Continent. It’s just that… Marquis Sorim spelled out the truth that everyone already understood.”

“If we can maintain an ambiguous relationship with Neowist, the strategic value of Port Krumen will be greatly diminished.”

Victor continued, “At that point, Aerie Fortress will have to ally with us instead to curb Neowist’s activities on Lake Fies.”

Sylvia shook her head. “Have you ever thought about this? If building a port has so many benefits, why hasn’t the Kingdom of Sus built one on Lake Fornas or Lake Fies?”

Victor frowned. “Although Lake Fornas is close to the Kingdom of Sus, it’s still nearly a thousand kilometers from the border. The main legions of the Kingdom of Sus are concentrated along the Twilight Forest. Even if they had the strength for a two-front war, they couldn’t possibly march to the distant Lake Fornas to fight an irrelevant Fishman War. If they did, the Radiant Knights would have the perfect excuse to move twenty thousand troops from the Temple Army from the Twilight Forest front to the eastern part of the Sasan Empire.”

“But I believe that over the next twenty years, the Kingdom of Sus will support Ayr in building a port on the shores of Lake Fies…”

“Absolutely not!”

Sylvia raised an eyebrow. “Did you know that the Empress of Neowist is Queen Elayanuo’s youngest aunt?”

Victor nodded in thought. “I know. Over seven hundred years ago, the Radiant Knights lured and killed the Emperor, Crown Prince, Grand Dukes, and other direct members of the Randt Empire’s bloodline. To renew their noble bloodline, the Imperial Family reached an agreement with the Sus Royal Family of that time. The Neowist emperors would only take a noblewoman of the purple-eyed bloodline as their Empress.”

“After the New Covenant of Light, the Kingdom of Sus began to curry favor with the Sasan Empire, becoming a staunch ally of the Radiant Knights,” Sylvia picked up. “For over three hundred years, the children of the Neowist emperors and their purple-eyed Empresses have either died in infancy or met violent ends; none have been able to inherit the throne. Instead, it’s the children born to the emperors and noblewomen of the Nachtigal line that have maintained the Randt Empire’s line of succession. The last three purple-eyed Empresses haven’t even borne the Neowist emperor any children at all; they only maintain a marriage in name. The ancient pact is now a mere shadow of its former self, yet the Sus Royal Family refuses to relinquish the title of Empress of the Randt Empire, willing to push their own noblewomen into a pit of fire… My dear, don’t you find that strange?”

Victor said, bewildered, “I find it very hard to understand.”

“It is the will of the Radiant Knights,” Sylvia said flatly. “The Neowist line, seeing that the grand tide of affairs had turned against them, fully threw their lot in with the Nachtigal family. And the Ayr royal family has always been the Pope’s loyal hounds. The Randt Imperial Family became the secular representative of the papal line. By controlling the position of the Neowist Empress, the Radiant Knights can effectively curb the Randt Imperial Family’s secular influence over the three kingdoms.”

Victor frowned. “The papal line? Hasn’t the Pope been sidelined? Do the Radiant Knights really need to keep targeting the Randt Imperial Family?”

“Sidelined? If any clergy below the middle ranks heard you say that, do you think they wouldn’t try to kill you?” Sylvia shot Victor a sidelong glance, a faint, mocking smile on her lips. “True, every Pope is now appointed by the Holy See. But the moment a descendant of Inoc wears the papal crown, he becomes a Sanctuary-rank expert. Do you really think a Spirit Priest, someone even I must be wary of, would be content as a puppet? A Pope elevated so high is all the more reason for caution. In the eyes of the common people and the low-to-mid-ranking clergy, his status is second only to the Supreme Lord.”

Sylvia fell silent for a moment, her eyes growing deep and unreadable. She spoke with calm resolve, “No one wishes for the papal line to regain divine authority, and no one will help Ayr build a port. The lords of the three kingdoms, especially, will not allow the Neowist line to make a comeback.”

“The old Marquess Sorim understood all of this. The reason he made an impossible proposal was purely a final effort for his family. Only by doing so could he let everything go and focus on breaking through to the Gold realm. You’re the only fool who doesn’t get it, who stands in opposition to everyone.”

Sylvia said sternly, “I don’t care what ideas you have, do not get entangled with the Neowist line. Not unless they are willing to renounce the throne and completely end the legacy of the Randt Empire.”

Victor nodded. “I understand.”

Understanding didn’t mean Victor was abandoning his plan to build a port on Lake Fies, nor did building a port on Lake Fies necessarily require a political connection with the Neowist line.

Victor planned to hand over the Golden Company’s north-south trade to Sophia, while he would concentrate his efforts on managing the east-west trade route. The Goldwater River waterway was of great significance to the Golden Company. As for the ownership and usage rights of the port, they could be partitioned through the Church’s Curia.

Victor believed Pope Clement would surely be happy to support a neutral organization that was friendly to the Curia. The Curia’s very foundation was its impartial, neutral stance, and the Golden Company itself was a neutral armed trade group. As long as the Curia was willing to provide an endorsement for the Golden Company, many difficult problems would be easily solved.

The clergy does not interfere in secular affairs… What a wonderful rule!

Of course, now was not the time to lay his cards on the table with Sylvia. Victor had a belly full of words he could only keep to himself.

“Thankfully, Enbise was quick-witted enough to use Gillian as a cover for you,” Sylvia sighed, then smiled. “Otherwise, you would have gotten me into serious trouble.”

“Then why did you support my proposal?” Victor retorted, unconvinced.

Sylvia’s smile was mischievous, her expression feigning grievance. “You didn’t explain your reasons in detail at the time. I thought you were deliberately making things difficult for Williams because of Gillian’s marriage. I supported your decision without even asking, wasn’t it to please My love?”

An uneasy feeling rose in Victor, and he pressed, “What about Gillian’s marriage? Isn’t her marriage partner Earl Weigel Auguste?”

“Aerie Fortress and the Chapmans have not reached a formal betrothal. Anything is possible.” Sylvia shook her head and smiled. “I heard that Aerie Fortress intends to have an exchange of children with the Chapmans.”

For a Silver Knight like Gillian, an exchange of children was tantamount to raising her own intimate partner. No wonder Earl and Countess Chepman hadn’t brought their heir to the King’s coronation ceremony; they were worried Gillian would ask Victor for help and sabotage the political marriage between their family and the Royal Family.

A blaze of anger flared in Victor. Just as he was about to stand, a flawless, fair hand rested on the back of his. Sylvia’s tender gaze gradually calmed him down.

“You should understand that Gillian has to marry someday. She can’t stay by your side forever,” Sylvia said softly. “Of course, she can maintain her familial duties with her husband while remaining your intimate partner. But things have changed now, and the problem lies with you.”

Completely baffled, Victor asked, “Why?”

“The Auguste family will not allow Copper City to possess a Silver Bloodline.” Sylvia stared into Victor’s eyes, her crimson lips parting slightly. “And neither will I!”

“The Chapmans have seen the lesson from Sorim’s past failure. If they want to rule Copper City, they cannot refuse the Auguste family’s infiltration. As the heir to the Chapman family, Gillian must pay the price for this. So, the exchange of children between Aerie Fortress and the Chapmans is, in effect, using a young Auguste to preemptively trade for any child you and Gillian might have. If you two have no children in the next ten years, Earl Chepman will naturally have to pick a child from his family to give back to Aerie Fortress, and Gillian will have no choice but to procreate with her now-adult husband.”

Victor said with a stony face, “So, you’re saying I only have a few more years with Gillian?”

“You still have me, and I only have you,” Sylvia said gently. Her eyes darted, and she added with a coquettish laugh, “If you whisk Gillian away, I’ll absolutely support it. Or, I could compensate you with Trisley, Ulena, Audel, and Katerina. How about that?”

“Can we not talk about this?” Victor said, annoyed.

“Loneliness is the greatest enemy of a High-ranked Knight. Once a Silver Knight becomes estranged from secular life, the erosion of their soul by the Elemental Sea becomes more severe. While their strength increases rapidly, their lifespan shortens. You have time to console another family’s high-ranking female knight, so why do you turn a blind eye to my high-ranking female knights?” Sylvia pouted her red lips slightly, speaking with dissatisfaction.

A thought struck Victor, and he murmured, “The ancient knights must have had a way to resist the Elemental Sea’s erosion of the soul… Blue Taro might be the main ingredient for a related potion, and not just for Gold Knights.”

Sylvia shook her head. “In the Era of the Chosen, Silver Knights didn’t even have the right to have children. They were the main force for carrying out the city-states’ combat missions, often accompanying Wizards on expeditions. Their days were both dangerous and fulfilling. Sophia has inadvertently walked a similar path. The Silver Knights of ancient times all strived to break through to the Gold realm; they never considered the issue of their own lifespan. Modern Silver Knights have become the source of Bronze Bloodlines, so of course, the longer their lives, the better.”

Victor thought to himself: The Wizards were indeed consciously protecting the knight’s bloodline. The papal line, which represents mortals, is the exact opposite… The Mages’ Association’s legacy must have been severed, but the Masked Brotherhood clearly has the shadow of the Alchemical Empire behind it. What secrets are hidden in all this?

“If you tease me anymore, I’ll eat you up right now!” Sylvia leaned close to Victor’s ear, her breath as fragrant as an orchid.

Victor quickly pulled his hand away from Sylvia’s shapely rear and shook it awkwardly.

Whenever he was with Sylvia, he always found himself taking advantage of her.

It was definitely a bad habit.

“Hmph, don’t you think it’s too late,” Sylvia said, her expression bewitching as she wrapped her arms around Victor’s neck.

Looking into those watery azure eyes and at those glistening, lush lips, Victor’s heart skipped a few beats. Just as the two were leaning closer and closer, Trisley, looking like a graceful young maiden, burst into the bedroom and said flatly, “Apologies for interrupting your intimacy.”

“It’s no problem. You’re always welcome to join us,” Sylvia said, always enjoying teasing her guardian knight.

“I absolutely did not mean that!” Victor quickly raised his hands to declare his position. Trisley had never looked kindly upon him, and he had no desire to provoke Nicole’s Tutor.

Trisley rolled her eyes at Sylvia, then shot Victor a cold glare. “A few uninvited guests have arrived at our encampment in the outer district of Brinol. They claim to be guards from the Randall family and say they have something important to report to Viscount Randell.”

“Victor’s subordinates? Why did they go to our encampment instead of the Marquess’s estate?” Sylvia asked with a frown.

Trisley glanced at Victor’s surprised expression and replied, “They wouldn’t say, specifically. The household guards didn’t dare to give Viscount Randell’s people a hard time. Also, they’ve brought a nobleman with them. That nobleman claims to be Lord Eckert Wimbledon and has requested to see Sophia.”

Sylvia turned her gaze to Victor and asked, “Who is Eckert?”

“Lord Eckert is the Stag Merchants’ Guild’s general manager in Stonetooth City. Sophia said he’d been missing for two months… I’m not sure of the specifics.” Victor shook his head in confusion, then stood up. “I’ll go take a look first. I’ll explain everything when I get back.”

“Alright. I’ll wait for you.”

Sylvia fetched a cloak and personally tied it for Victor, a smile playing on her lips. “Trisley, you go with Victor and protect him closely. We can’t have assassins posing as guards from the Randall family trying to harm my lover.”

Chapter 427: Victor’s Gentlemanly Gift

“

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“Write down the formula,” Victor said, his voice gentle as he tapped the table.

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Ruke had made his living with the Stag Merchants’ Guild since he was young. He had traveled far and wide, enduring the elements, working his way up from a stable boy brushing horses to a caravan steward. He considered himself experienced, worldly, and quite capable. When he had offended the guards of the Randall family this time, he hadn’t thought much of it. He had even planned to use the intercepted formula to negotiate terms with Lord Randall. But now that he was truly facing the Viscount, he felt an overwhelming urge to kneel. As those deep, dark eyes swept over him, he found he couldn’t muster a single thought of resistance. He simply grabbed the quill and wrote down the formula.

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Victor took the parchment and confirmed that the formula Ruke had written was identical to that of the Restoration Potion. He casually handed it to Trisley, who stood beside him.

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Trisley memorized the formula’s contents, then tossed the parchment into the roaring brazier, coldly watching it turn to ash. The room gradually filled with the stench of burnt animal hide.

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Victor pulled his gaze away from Trisley’s exquisite profile and turned back to Ruke. “Are you certain no one else has seen this formula?”

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“Honored Master, I am certain that no one else knows the contents of the formula,” Ruke replied respectfully, his head bowed low.

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The steward of the Stag Merchants’ Guild had a clear mind and a glib tongue, and his attitude was exceptionally deferential. He explained the matter with complete clarity, making no attempt to conceal key information or justify his actions. But his character was vile. To obtain the formula, he had been willing to murder the mercenaries who had fought alongside him, a decision that had instead led to the deaths of more than twenty of his own caravan guards.

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The War Bear Mercenaries had also engaged in killing to silence people while escorting caravans, but they did it for survival and would never turn their blades on their own comrades.

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Nobles, however, would choose to silence people for profit. They represented their families, and the principles by which a family operated could not be measured by an individual’s moral standards.

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Victor didn’t care about Ruke’s fate, but he had to consider the safety of Fermi and the others. The Restoration Potion was priceless. To protect the secret of the formula, Sylvia might not be willing to spare the Randall family’s guards. After a moment’s thought, he said, “Ruke, if this formula proves useful, I’ll ensure you live.”

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“Thank you, my lord! Thank you, my lord!” Ruke bowed repeatedly.

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Trisley glanced at Victor but said nothing, turning to leave the confinement room. When Victor came out, she asked coolly, “Do you have anything to say?”

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“Say what?” Victor shrugged nonchalantly. “Didn’t you hear everything? Ruke intercepted the formula for a new type of berserk potion. He was worried there were Borean spies among the mercenaries and ruffians, so he planned to silence them all before giving the formula to Sophia. Then he and Lord Eckert were apprehended by my men.”

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“Why did you send your subordinates to Dodor’s Stonetooth City? And why did they get involved with the Stag Merchants’ Guild?” Trisley asked coldly, staring into Victor’s eyes.

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“I will explain to Sylvia,” Victor said calmly.

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“Then we’ll return to the Duke’s residence right now.”

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Trisley took two steps, but when she noticed Victor wasn’t following, she stopped and looked back at him, puzzled.

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“I’ll go and placate Sophia first, then send men to deliver the medicinal ingredients from the Marquess’s estate’s inventory to the Duke’s residence. Have your apothecaries prepare the potion according to the formula. I’ll go see Sylvia later,” Victor said, stepping forward. “The Household Department from Aerie Fortress has people watching outside. I’d rather not attract the Royal Family’s attention.”

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“Fine,” Trisley nodded. “I’ll take Lord Eckert, Ruke, and your guards back with me.”

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An ordinary person would find it difficult to resist the mental intimidation of a peak Silver Knight. Ruke’s submissiveness was a result of Trisley circulating her Aura to influence him. If Fermi and the others fell into Trisley’s hands, the situation could turn ugly.

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“No! My guards go with me and no one else.”

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Victor refused flatly. “Only Ruke knows the contents of the formula. You only need to take him and Eckert to see Sylvia… What’s with that look?”

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Trisley stood her ground, her eyes slanted as she looked at him, an expression on her face that said, I knew you were up to something. A surge of anger rose in Victor, so intense it made him laugh. He stepped closer, looking down at her, and scoffed, “Actually, I’m quite taken by your beauty and temperament. Sylvia always says she wants to give you to me… Perhaps I should accept her offer and pursue you. But even if you were my partner, you would have no right to interfere in the internal affairs of the Randall family.”

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They stood very close, glaring at each other, neither willing to back down.

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Trisley had a pure and tranquil air about her, with delicate and beautiful features and a graceful, willowy figure, like a sixteen-year-old in the flower of her youth. But at only 1.65 meters tall, she was even shorter than Katerina. The way she had to tilt her head up to glare at him had no menace at all; in fact, it was exceptionally cute. Victor couldn’t help but want to reach out and pat her head.

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Seeing the amusement in Victor’s eyes, Trisley rose onto her toes, furrowed her slender brows, and took a half-step back.

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Victor felt that treating Nicole’s Tutor this way was perhaps a bit rude, so he suppressed his smile and said sincerely, “My apologies. I must be responsible for my vassals.”

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Without a word, Trisley took a wooden footstool from a light carriage, stepped onto it, and crooked a pale, delicate finger at Victor.

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What’s this? Is she going to compare heights with me now that she’s on a footstool?

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Victor was both amused and exasperated. He hadn’t intended to respond to her baffling behavior, but seeing her serious expression and the guards watching from a distance, he thought for a moment and walked over.

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“I was going to say, you don’t need to be self-conscious about your height. Petite is also very cute… If you’re really not happy, you could consider high-heeled leather boots…”

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Before the rambling Victor could finish, Trisley took hold of his face and kissed him.

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Victor’s eyes went wide. It was the first time he had been forcibly kissed in public, and by Trisley of all people.

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The York family guards pretended they saw nothing. Trisley kissed him as if no one else was there, with single-minded concentration. Just as Victor was becoming lost in the moment, she slipped from his embrace like a fish.

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Trisley licked her glistening pink lips and looked down into Victor’s eyes, her expression calm as she commented, “Tastes good.” Then she lifted her chin haughtily and said with a cold smile, “Hmph, you came over as soon as I crooked my finger. And here I thought it would take three days of being inseparable… Enbise really overestimated you.”

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As her bouncing ponytail retreated into the distance, Victor stood frozen, feeling dejected and lost.

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So, the fat man was talking about me…

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He finally understood why Trisley disliked him.

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Her kissing technique was a perfect copy of Sylvia’s.

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“My lord, what do we do?” Fermi of the Kestrel Mercenary Company sidled up and asked cautiously.

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Victor touched his lips and gave a carefree smile. “First, back to the Marquess’s estate… to wait for the storm.”

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Two days later.

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In a secret chamber within the Duke of York’s residence.

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“How enchanting.”

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Sylvia reclined on a sofa, an intoxicated expression on her face as she swirled a crystal vial. The liquid inside was like molten gold, shimmering with a dazzling light under the candlelight.

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“It is enchanting… practically blindingly beautiful,” Katerina murmured in awe, her eyes fixed on the potion in Sylvia’s hand.

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“Give it to me.” Trisley extended a delicate, snow-white hand toward Sylvia.

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“What do you want it for?” Sylvia turned her body warily, her back to her protection knight, and said with a light laugh, “This is a gentlemanly gift from Victor. Don’t even think about taking it from me.”

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“It’s a waste on you… We’ve already wasted one bottle.” Trisley snatched the potion and carefully placed it in a box made of Adamantine, where four identical vials already lay.

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She sighed resentfully. “We only managed to concoct eight vials of Gold Potion in total. Malos used two and managed to resonate with four Elemental Nodes. And we just had to drink one!”

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“How would we have known Victor’s gift was so precious if we hadn’t drunk it?” Sylvia said, a seductive smile playing on her lips. “I’m already starting to miss him… Trisley, be a dear and go to the Marquess’s estate. Bring him back to me.”

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“Let’s deal with important matters first, then you can have a tryst with your paramour!”

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Trisley locked the Adamantine box and sat on a chair, lost in thought for a moment. Even now, she hadn’t fully recovered from the shock of the Restoration Potion.

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Ruke had sworn that the formula he provided was for a brand-new berserk potion that could simultaneously increase a soldier’s strength and agility. But once the potion was concocted, the York family’s apothecaries judged from its golden texture alone that it was definitely not a new berserk potion, and possibly not even a potable one.

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After taking the first sip, Sylvia had wordlessly dismissed everyone else, keeping only her two Silver Knights. Trisley circulated her Aura and drank the second sip, and then her mind went completely blank. Katerina took the vial from her hand, but she didn’t react—or rather, she was in no state to react. Her Aura was gently flooding her entire body, its total volume a full thirty percent higher than usual, and the source was the Gold Potion.

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This wasn’t some new berserk potion; it was clearly a new type of Vigor Potion.

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Only a Vigor Potion could increase a Knight’s total Aura. Yet the Aura provided by the new potion merged perfectly with one’s own, which meant it was also a combat potion exclusive to Knights.

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Subsequent tests confirmed the new potion’s effects. Malos, a secret knight from Rose Manor, consumed two vials of the Gold Potion and, in one day and one night, successfully resonated with four Elemental Nodes, greatly increasing his strength.

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If Knights who had advanced using potions could use the Gold Potion to break through their barriers, then apprentice knights who had activated their bloodline would surely be able to as well!

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Non-naturally awakened apprentice knights had always been in an awkward position. Their knight’s bloodline was pitifully thin, and their personal strength was comparable to that of an ordinary Mystic Warrior. As such, apprentice knights with activated bloodlines could only serve as retainers, charging into the fray on the battlefield, constantly facing the risk of death or disability. The scions of great families would rather become noble scholars than rely on a cleansing potion to awaken their Aura talent.

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Veteran apprentice knights were a different matter. If their martial skills were superb and their minds strong, they could contend with ordinary Knights. Resonating with the eleven foundational Elemental Nodes could also increase the purity of their bloodline, giving their descendants a chance to awaken their Aura. The only drawback was their inability to sustain Aura circulation for long periods, making it difficult to maintain high-intensity combat for more than two hours.

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The Gold Potion perfectly solved all these problems. Its appearance signified the rise of the Knight class and a leap in a family’s power.

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One could not be too cautious with such a precious potion. But all Sylvia could think about now was a tryst with Victor?

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Trisley shot her a sharp glare, let out a breath, and said, “Currently, only the apothecary Rhett, Ruke, and the three of us know the formula for the Gold Potion. Lord Eckert is completely unaware, and neither Rhett nor Ruke knows the formula’s true nature… Ruke is not one of us. He should be silenced permanently.”

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“The Household Department was already tailing me when I went to the soldier’s garrison with Victor. Then he sent another cart of medicinal ingredients. I’m sure the residence is now surrounded by spies from Aerie Fortress. Just in case, I suggest we summon Bruce. Also, Victor knows the potion formula, but he won’t tell anyone. As for his guards… they’re a potential risk.” Trisley looked at her liege lord with a troubled expression.

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Sylvia rose gracefully and said coolly, “Victor promised Ruke would live. His promise is my promise! As for his household guard, don’t even mention it.”

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“The Gold Potion is of immense value. How do you plan to keep it a secret? Hoard it and not let anyone use it? Then what value does it have? There are no secrets for things that are meant to be used.” Sylvia wagged her long index finger. “Can either of you tell me what the crucial point is here?”

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Katerina smiled. “According to Lord Eckert and Ruke, they intercepted the formula from the Masked Brotherhood. The main ingredients come from Arreat and the Great Marsh, respectively. The Boreans control half of the trade resources in the Nidam Swamp but lack the ingredients from Arreat. It’s no wonder the Boreans are going to such lengths to deal with Sophia. The Southwind Merchant Association wants to replace her, or at least prevent her from completely monopolizing the barbarian trade. This also means the Boreans possess the Gold Potion formula.”

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Sylvia nodded and sighed. “The Boreans’ problem is also our problem. The priority now is to stabilize the situation with Sophia… All my plans will have to be readjusted.”

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“None of that is the point!”

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Trisley stared at Sylvia and said, word for word, “Victor deceived us!”

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“How could the Kingdom of Borea entrust something as important as the Gold Potion to Mik? And how could they send ordinary soldiers to transport it? It was secretly transported and still intercepted by Ruke, who was then captured by the Randall family’s guards… Isn’t that too much of a coincidence?”

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“There are always coincidences in the world… Alright, what are you getting at?”

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Trisley lowered her gaze and said pensively, “Neither Victor nor Nicole wanted Sophia to return to the Randell Fief. With the Gold Potion formula in our hands, he’s gotten his wish. His rock bricks, giant brick kilns, sluice gates, water projects, New Agro-husbandry, Wildwillow City, Raven Town, public carriage, share-based merchant association, Minting Rights, secretly sending people to infiltrate the Stag Merchants’ Guild… Everything is interlinked, premeditated.”

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Sylvia asked with a faint smile, “And your conclusion is?”

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Trisley took a deep breath and said in a low voice, “He set up an unimaginable scheme behind our backs!”

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“Yes. Victor has set up a scheme beyond imagination… That’s my Lover.” A faint smile touched Sylvia’s lips, and a captivating blush bloomed on her jade-like cheeks, a beauty so stunning it was suffocating.

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“You’re not worried he’s plotting something? You don’t want to know his secrets?” Trisley asked coldly.

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Sylvia lifted her head, her gaze sharp. “What could Victor possibly be plotting? His origins are well-documented, I know his life story like the back of my hand, I even know that his first woman was Catherine. Even if he is hiding something from me, that is a matter between the two of us, and not for an outsider to comment on.”

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“You’re calling me an outsider?!” Trisley trembled with anger.

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“Have you possessed him? When I am with My love, where is my dearest protection knight?” Sylvia arched a slender brow and shot back triumphantly.

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“You… You’re being unreasonable!” Trisley stomped her foot and turned her head away.

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“Darling, don’t be angry.” Sylvia took Trisley’s hand and smiled gently. “I remember when I was little, there was a servant in our house who always hid the silver he stole in the stables. I didn’t expose him. Instead, when no one was around, I would quietly take a few pieces. That fool kept stealing, and I kept taking, and in the end, I got more than he did. It was such fun. Everyone can have secrets. If you expose them, the surprise is gone. What’s the point?”

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Trisley pouted. “Victor is no dumb servant. He’s very clever…”

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“And I’m no longer that little girl. Silverware can’t satisfy my appetite anymore,” Sylvia said with a shake of her head and a sweet smile. “You only half-understand the feelings between Victor and me…” She paused, then her expression turned serious. “Whether you understand or not, you must trust in my will and my wisdom… Go and summon Victor and Sophia… Let us see just how outstanding the man I’ve chosen truly is.”

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“As you wish. My Honored Master.”

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With a cold expression on her delicate face, Trisley curtsied and departed.

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A flicker of light in Katerina’s eyes, she smiled, “I’ll go talk to her.” With that, she followed her out of the secret chamber.

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Sylvia walked to the table. Her slender, pale fingers tapped the Adamantine potion box, and her azure eyes turned a dark crimson, as if they held roiling, scorching magma.

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“It seems a marriage alliance is the only way.”

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“How do you plan to persuade me?”

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Trisley stood in the dim corridor, calmly looking at Katerina who had followed her out.

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“Come with me.” Katerina took Trisley’s arm, pushed open a wooden door, and pressed her into a chair before turning to light a candle.

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The small flame flickered, dispelling the quiet darkness.

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Katerina rested her chin in her hand and studied Trisley for a moment before speaking. “The Gold Knight ancestor of the Joshua family once said that when a Gold Knight looks south, he cannot see the north; when he looks east, he cannot heed the west. But when he stands still, he is like a fire in the darkness, attracting countless people who seek warmth. A knight’s individual strength, no matter how great, is limited. But when countless people follow him, his power is magnified countless times.”

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“In truth, every extraordinary being has a similar attractive quality. Spirit Knights are like embodiments of the Elemental Sea; they possess a charm that transcends reality, affecting not just people, but things as well. Aren’t you, I, and all the Great Knights and Knights of the York family drawn to Sylvia? So, Sylvia and Victor’s meeting was no accident. You could say he is a gift from the Elemental Sea to the Spirit Knight.”

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Katerina swept her hair back and said wistfully, “Back then, when the Ant-man army swarmed the Randell Fief, Victor asked Sylvia for help, but for the sake of her family, Sylvia didn’t save him…”

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Trisley nodded and sighed. “Yes, Sylvia has held onto that, filled with regret ever since.”

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“But Victor survived,” Katerina said, her eyes burning bright. “From that moment on, I knew he would surely become a Sun Elf. He and Sylvia are drawn to each other, and no one can stop it.”

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Trisley pressed her pink lips together and nodded. “I understand what you mean.”

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“You understand what I mean, but you don’t understand Victor and Sylvia,” Katerina shook her head and asked, “On whose behalf is Victor laying his plans? And who is the greatest beneficiary?”

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Trisley thought for a moment and said with a self-deprecating laugh, “It’s us… I really shouldn’t have doubted his motives.”

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“Us? Hehe, you overestimate the York family.” Katerina gave a bitter smile and said with a sigh, “Victor acts only for Sylvia. The two of them are playing a game of love.” She paused, then sighed again. “Victor probably doesn’t even realize it himself, but every scheme he lays is to please Sylvia… He uses the political situation as a gentlemanly gift in his pursuit of her. The sheer scale is staggering… and makes one utterly jealous. And the two of them are enjoying every moment of it.”

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“When the Senate convened, Victor asked the York family to support Marquis Sorim’s proposal. Sylvia supported his decision without a single question, because she was anticipating the surprise he would bring.”

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“Are you saying,” Trisley asked, her voice laced with surprise and uncertainty, “that Victor is plotting another major move?”

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“I am completely certain of it,” Katerina nodded firmly, then said gently, “What will you do?”

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Trisley blinked and replied coolly, “What do you mean, ‘what will I do’?”

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Katerina sighed softly. “You’ve progressed too quickly, resonating with thirty-six Elemental Nodes, just to follow in Sylvia’s footsteps. You never had any intention of advancing to Gold Knight.”

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Trisley was silent for a moment before admitting frankly, “That’s right. As Sylvia’s protection knight, I cannot bring shame upon a Spirit Knight. This has been my conviction since I was a child. Besides, with my bloodline, it’s highly unlikely I could advance any further.”

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“And your lifespan?” Katerina said softly. “Sophia resonated with thirty-six Elemental Nodes, and she has the determination to press forward relentlessly. But you only want to accompany Sylvia through her brief, lonely life, and you still haven’t considered marriage or family. If this continues, I’m afraid you’ll perish even before Sylvia.” She leaned close to Trisley’s ear and chuckled. “Sylvia has a partner now. As her intimate sister, do you truly feel nothing for Victor? Female protection knights generally share the same partner as their mistress.”

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“Are you mocking me for being jealous that Victor has usurped my position?” Trisley said, annoyed.

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“Don’t forget my current position. I want the family to grow stronger, so naturally, I want the family’s High-ranked Knights to live longer, and ideally, advance even further. But from our respective standpoints, you are clearly easier to get close to than Ulena or Audel.” Katerina stood up. “Victor is your opportunity. Of course, you could also groom your own partner. The choice is yours. However, if you start your own family, you’ll have to leave Sylvia.”

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“And what about you? Do you have no designs on the Sun Elf?” Trisley raised an eyebrow, pressing the question.

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“Me? A sibling-like affection is more suitable for Victor and me… In fact, Victor dislikes breaking up marriages, he looks down on… never mind. Besides, Audel, Ulena, and I all have children. The one in the most danger now is you. Think it over carefully.” Katerina left the secret chamber, closing the door behind her.

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Whether Trisley would take the bait, however, was the question.

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Chapter 428: Justifying Himself

In the evening, the carriage of Marchioness Wimbledon arrived at Duke York’s residence.

Victor stepped down from the two-wheeled light carriage, offered his arm with a suave and gentlemanly air to help his beautiful wife alight, and nodded to the Knights of the Household Department not far away.

The knights, clad in golden armor, returned the salute solemnly, watching as Viscount Randell and his wife walked into the Duke’s residence.

Sylvia’s identity was distinguished and her status lofty; her every word and action attracted exceptional attention. For the past two days, the Household Department had been paying close attention to the small maneuvers between the York family and Viscount Randell. They not only inspected the medicinal herbs sent from the Marquess’s estate to the York family but also increased their manpower to openly monitor the movements of both Duke York’s residence and Marchioness Wimbledon’s residence.

The Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence was as transparent as a glass house to Aerie Fortress’s Household Department. But the Household Department would never dare, in Sylvia’s presence, to infiltrate the York family’s residence.

This was why Victor had sent the two witnesses directly to the York family. And that cart of medicinal herbs included all the samples in the Marquess’s estate’s inventory. The Household Department couldn’t find anything amiss at all. However, they had to show everyone that Aerie Fortress was the true master of Blinor City.

I’m accompanying my wife to Sylvia’s private dinner. How many people will have a sleepless night tonight? And how many people’s fates will be changed? Before I knew it, I’ve already reached this level… If Catherine were to act coquettishly with me, I could only coldly refuse to tell her the truth… This is the kind of shrewdness a great noble must possess.

Victor’s mind raced with these smug, rambling thoughts, deliberately omitting Sylvia.

The plan Barol implemented was full of holes. Heaven knew how Sylvia would react.

“Darling, you’re a little tense,” Sophia said, her soft voice exposing his current state of mind as she held her little husband’s arm.

Victor’s steps were steady as he said with a placid expression, “How could I be tense? I’m very familiar with this place.”

“Tense, conflicted, uneasy, excited, thrilled… Just like the first time you climbed into my bed.”

Sophia leaned in slightly, her red lips close to Victor’s ear, and whispered, “You can’t hide it from me. It’s a talent of the purple-eyed bloodline. Especially when I’m holding your arm like this.”

Victor immediately felt the soft elasticity from his right arm and Sophia’s steady, strong heartbeat.

He laughed softly. “My dear lady, I am indeed a bit nervous… We are going to decide a major matter tonight… But I’m much better now.”

“I’ll be watching,” Sophia replied with a faint smile.

An attendant from the Duke’s residence led them to a door. Before he could knock and announce their arrival, Sylvia opened it from the inside. Then, right in front of Sophia, she gave Victor a long, passionate kiss.

Sophia was a little surprised. It was the first time she had seen Sylvia display such a captivating sentiment.

Sylvia’s cheeks were flushed, her starry eyes half-closed, her brilliant golden hair cascading over her shoulders. Her right foot, clad in a high-heeled shoe, tapped lightly on the floor as her body leaned, delicate and weak, into Victor’s embrace. She was like a young wife reunited with her husband after a long separation, not a lofty Spirit Knight.

Sophia closed the door behind them and, seeing the two stuck together intimately with no intention of letting go, let out a cold snort.

Sylvia wrapped her arms around Victor’s neck and said cheerfully, “I like your gift.” Then, she turned to Sophia with a charming smile. “My dear cousin, I like your gift even more.”

As long as Sylvia is happy, she won’t give me too hard a time… Victor quietly exhaled.

In truth, Sylvia had never given him a hard time, let alone probed into his affairs. It was just that Victor was captivated by the Spirit Knight’s extraordinary charisma, hopelessly entangled in love without even realizing it.

Sophia pouted and said sourly, “If you’re talking about that cart of medicinal herbs, Victor has already paid for them. If you’re talking about Victor… he is still my husband right now.”

“I’ve never denied that.” Sylvia smiled gracefully, released Victor, and turned to walk towards the room’s wine cabinet. “Sit wherever you like. What would you like to drink? Dumu wine from Borui, Golden Iris Wine from the Centaur Hills, or the new green wheat ale from the Sasan Empire?”

“The green wheat ale,” Victor said, pulling out chairs for the two ladies.

Sophia sat down with an elegant posture. “I’ll have the green wheat ale as well.”

Sylvia returned to her seat with a bottle of green wheat ale and poured a glass for everyone.

The Sasan Empire’s green wheat ale was a dark green color, its smell pungent and sharp, yet carrying a rich, enticing aroma of wheat.

Victor raised his glass and took a sip. He felt a line of fire burn from his tongue down to his stomach, then instantly ignite his entire body. His mind grew dizzy, and he almost lost control of his body.

X-3 activated naturally, weakening the negative physical and mental reactions and issuing an alert to take over his body. Victor had no choice but to use his Activation talent. The water element within him swiftly dissolved the alcohol’s potency. The flush on his face subsided, leaving his whole body feeling warm and seemingly full of strength.

“Is this meant for people to drink?!” Victor exclaimed loudly, setting down his glass in a flustered manner.

“There are two types of green wheat ale. This one is specifically for barbarians,” Sylvia said, raising her glass to Sophia in a toast.

Sophia sighed faintly, raised her glass, and drank it all in one go.

Watching the two women down a full glass of green wheat ale without a change in expression, Victor couldn’t even begin to describe his frustration.

Sylvia toyed with her glass and said, “The Southwind Merchant Association has been shipping green wheat ale from the Sasan Empire. Earl Horra Ludwig specially brought a few barrels to present to His Majesty Edward. It’s said the Dodor are preparing to transport the green wheat ale to Raven Town to sell to the barbarians there.” She put down her glass and asked Sophia, “You have good relationships with Bronze-Halberd City and the Teutonic Duchy. Did they tell you about the green wheat ale?”

Sophia shook her head dismally.

“It’s one thing for the Sassans not to tell you. But the Stag Merchants’ Guild does business with Bronze-Halberd City; it’s impossible for them not to know. For them to hide it from you as well… This one glass of green wheat ale reflects your current situation.” Sylvia shook her head, then changed the subject. “What did Victor say to you yesterday?”

Sophia glanced at Victor and said after a moment of thought, “He said Eckert was at the Duke’s residence, and that he was willing to help me ask you for help. Then he took a cart of medicinal herbs… He didn’t explain the specifics. I chose to believe him.”

Sylvia’s clear, azure eyes turned to Victor. She chuckled softly. “Darling, shouldn’t you explain to us why your men appeared in Stonetooth City and even abducted Lord Eckhart?”

Victor cursed inwardly. He should have explained things to Sylvia alone first, then explained the matter of The Golden Company to Sophia together. But Sylvia didn’t play by the rules at all, summoning him and Sophia for a direct confrontation.

This was definitely revenge!

Victor composed himself and began to speak slowly. “This matter goes back several years… When the House of Randell was first established, I was extremely short on money. I had Snow Sugar, coffee, and raw sugar, but I couldn’t sell them for a good price. As it happened, Narsen’s War Bear Mercenary Company had dealings with caravans all year round, so we also started to form a caravan, hoping to secretly ship the specialty products of Randell Fief out for a huge profit.”

“Why secretly ship them out?” Sylvia’s willow-leaf brows shot up as she demanded, “Tell me, how much coffee and Snow Sugar did you hide in Randell Fief? How much did you plan to sell it for?”

Victor stammered, “Not much… just five hundred thousand Gold Sols.”

“Five hundred thousand? You hid this from me to try and make five hundred thousand!” Sylvia flew into a rage, grabbing the feather cushion from behind her and throwing it at him.

Victor caught the cushion and muttered, “Who was it that didn’t think much of coffee and Snow Sugar in the beginning? You took the Purple Cane wine, so what choice did I have but to find a way myself?”

“Darling, I’m very curious. How on earth could you make five hundred thousand Gold Sols? I’ve never heard of the Randell family having a long-distance caravan,” Sophia said, her eyes narrowed in a faint, knowing smile.

“You want to ask how I transported the goods.” Victor set the cushion down and changed the subject with a smile. “I don’t have any long-distance caravan. My men are only mercenaries. They formed a mercenary company, took a few merchants, and traveled through the wilderness and mountain forests to transport the specialty products of Randell Fief to the farthest eastern part of the kingdom, right to the border of Naville.”

“That’s impossible,” Sophia said coldly. “If traveling merchants had it that easy, every lord could do the same. The Wimbledon Merchant Association would have collapsed long ago.”

“Nothing is impossible.” Victor took a dark red crystal from his waist pouch, tossed it onto the table, and said, “An unpolished fire element crystal, from Baron Garrott’s fief in the Kingdom of Naville.”

Sylvia snatched the fire element crystal before Sophia could, her face beaming with a smile. “Is this for me?”

“Er… The quality of the fire element crystals provided by Baron Garrott is quite poor. I’ve never been able to bring myself to present it…” Victor said with an embarrassed smile.

The corners of Sylvia’s lips turned up. She took Victor’s hand and said with deep affection, “I love it.”

“Can you two stop being so sappy?” Sophia rolled her eyes and stared at Victor. “Randell Fief is thousands of kilometers away from Naville. How did your mercenary company manage it?”

“By imitating you.” Victor met Sophia’s amethyst-like eyes and said, “You once smuggled Mithril, traveling through the wilderness to avoid the inspections of lords along the way, all the way from the Twilight Forest in Sus back to Blinor City. You even helped the people of Naville open up a secret trade route directly to the Great Plains. Darling, your adventures were a great inspiration to me… Of course, my men are all ordinary mercenaries with mediocre strength. Even with their rich experience in wilderness survival, traveling through the mountains and forests for extended periods still carries great risks.”

“I couldn’t have succeeded with just them.”

Victor walked to the wine cabinet, took a bottle of Golden Iris Wine, filled his glass, and raised it towards Sylvia. “So, I also have the beautiful Queen of Roses to thank.”

Sylvia lifted her azure eyes, surprised and curious. “Thank me?”

“Mmm.” Victor downed the sweet wine in his glass with a heroic flourish, then carried the bottle back to his seat. “Gambis ceded the three eastern provinces to Neowist. Over two hundred thousand people followed the York family in their Westward Migration to the Centaur Hills. Some of them became refugees in the wilderness and were taken in by the fortified villages of the Wildmen in the mountains and forests. The growth of the mountain folk made neighboring villages uneasy. They cut back on the grain supplied to the mountain strongholds, forcing the mountain folk’s fortified villages to kill one another for resources. A portion of the mountain folk hunters followed the refugees to Randell Fief to make a living.”

“When I was developing Randell Fief, I subdued nearly a thousand mountain folk. They are a significant force for the House of Randell.” Victor paused, then continued, “These people are familiar with the mountain terrain. They know where the dangers are, the locations of the mountain strongholds, what those strongholds need, and they know the people in them. With them leading the way, my mercenary company used iron arrowheads, cloth, and salt to knock open the gates of the fortified mountain villages and gained the support of the mountain folk hunters. Those strongholds became my trading outposts, not only helping the mercenary company open up the trade route but also providing supplies, trading mountain goods, and replenishing our forces.”

Sylvia’s gaze was burning as she asked, “How many mountain strongholds do you control now, and how many mountain hunters serve you?”

“Thirty-six strongholds, with a total of over nine thousand people,” Victor said proudly. This number was less than a quarter of the truth.

“A single mercenary company, some worthless supplies, leveraging such a massive force…”

Sylvia gazed at Victor with admiration in her eyes and said softly, “Darling, you always think of things no one else can, and you manage to make your ideas a reality. I’m so proud of you.”

Victor smiled reservedly. But Sophia pressed on, “How much money has this trade route earned you?”

“It’s always over twenty thousand Gold Sols a year,” Victor replied.

“A profit of over twenty thousand Gold Sols a year?” Sophia’s eyebrows shot up, her face full of disbelief.

“The shipping price for one pound of coffee with three pounds of Snow Sugar is ten Gold Sols. In Naville, the selling price is around forty-five Gold Sols. Your mercenary company only travels on rugged mountain paths, making one trip a year at most, with no more than three hundred pounds of coffee and nine hundred pounds of sugar. I’ve never even heard of a Baron Garrott, so he must be a minor rural lord. Can he really consume that much coffee? A price of twenty Gold Sols from him would be more like it. Adding in the profit from reselling mountain goods, you’d make eight thousand Gold Sols a year at most.”

“I also have raw sugar.”

Victor said, “I recruited a shrewd freeman merchant. He transports raw sugar to the mountain strongholds, has the mountain folk gather wild fruits to make candied fruit with the raw sugar, and then sells the candied fruit in the towns. He is now the biggest Black Market merchant in Deepwater City, with over twenty shops under his command, but the Joshua family has no idea he’s my subordinate.”

“My dear lady, I have many such Black Market merchants. They are spread throughout Copper City, Vistock, Blinor, and Ojibwa, and they help me earn tens of thousands of Gold Sols every year.”

Sophia was silent for a long time before sighing softly, “You sell the specialty products of Randell Fief in Wildwillow City to cover the source of the Black Market merchants’ goods. No one knows their main products actually come from your secret trade route… What a brilliant scheme.”

Sylvia interjected, “However, one secret trade route wasn’t enough to satisfy you. You started forming more mercenary companies, attempting to open up a secret trade route in the Dodor Kingdom, and even including the Sasan Empire.”

“Unfortunately, your men weren’t familiar with Dodor’s mountain environment. Their progress in the Dodor Kingdom was slow. So you changed your approach and sent people to infiltrate the Stag Merchants’ Guild. Your mercenary company in Stonetooth City managed to connect with Lord Eckhart, which led to everything that followed.”

Sophia glared at Victor, grinding her teeth. “You were after me from the very beginning! You’re just like the Boreans, wanting to swallow up my Stag Merchants’ Guild… You bastard, I…”

Victor asked with a cold smile, “You what? From the very beginning, I wanted to defeat you and conquer you. Is that reason enough?”

Sophia was instantly speechless, her head drooping with a complicated expression.

Chapter 429: A Sufficient Reason

A soft sigh made Victor, who was feeling secretly pleased with himself, go tense. He avoided Sylvia’s reproachful gaze and said nonchalantly, “The Randell Fief’s finances have improved, allowing me to maintain a mercenary legion several thousand strong. You could say I single-handedly support the standing defenses of the Southern Fortress. The York family has also benefited. I’ve never bought supplies in Goldwater City on credit.”

Sylvia’s annoyance melted into delight. She pursed her lips and smiled. “Go on, my dear.”

“Everyone benefits from my secret trade route. Together, we’ve gradually formed a power bloc. I call it The Golden Company.”

Victor continued, “The Golden Company seeks to grow, and I can’t stop it even if I wanted to. Take Baron Garrott, for example. He went from being a poor lord to a wealthy one, able to purchase Adamantine to trade with my caravan and make even more demands. If I want Adamantine, I have to find a way to satisfy his appetite. The Mountain folk, the black goods merchants, the village heads who provide cover for the shipments—they all want more… The Golden Company has grown to the point where even if I were willing to let it go, someone else would just take over!”

“My dear, do you want me to let it go?” Victor asked in a low, smiling voice.

“How could I?” Sylvia shook her head, then asked suddenly, “Does Nicole know about The Golden Company?”

This time, she was serious.

Sylvia could treat Victor hiding The Golden Company from her as a little surprise between lovers. But for Nicole, her confidant and vassal lord, to know and not report it would be a far more serious matter.

“Nicole? Nicole is only responsible for spending money. She never asks where my money comes from,” Victor said quickly.

Sylvia gave a noncommittal smile and nodded. “In that, she’s just like Trisley.”

And Trisley is just like you, Victor grumbled in his heart. He went on, “Compared to the actual value of this trade route, making a fortune is no longer the most important goal. Mutual exchange is the key. The Four-Leaf Clover Trading Company sells Adamantine to the Centaur Hills at an exorbitant price, not to mention the trade quotas. Aerie Fortress could ask Sophia to reduce or even terminate the Adamantine trade with the Centaur Hills at any time. The Golden Company can help us break free from that constraint.” At this, his tone shifted, and he shook his head. “Unfortunately, The Golden Company’s development has hit a bottleneck… It needs a more suitable leader.”

“How about I hand The Golden Company over to you?” Victor said to his wife with a sincere smile.

Sophia stared at Victor’s handsome face, feeling a little faint. A mix of shock and joy was in her voice as she asked, “To me? Are you sure you want to hand your life’s work over to me?”

Victor simply smiled without a word and nodded.

Sophia pondered for a moment, then shook her head with a sigh. “I understand… This is the escape route you’ve prepared for me… You don’t want me anymore.”

Victor’s wise and deeply affectionate persona shattered in an instant. He was speechless for a long moment.

Sophia burst out laughing, her expression radiant. “I’m just teasing you. Give The Golden Company to me. I promise you won’t be disappointed!”

Sylvia gently caressed her wine glass, leaning back in her chair and asking lazily, “What’s your plan?”

“Neutrality!” Sophia smiled, her voice full of confidence. “The Golden Company can’t grow because Victor is unable to maintain a neutral position. The Stag Merchants’ Guild is on the verge of collapse for the same reason—the Radiant Knights doubt my neutrality. Victor said the key to my predicament was the Stag Merchants’ Guild’s disloyalty. In fact, turncoats like them are the only ones who are truly neutral. That’s why the Stag Merchants’ Guild has had many masters and many names, but that group of people has passed down through generations, always remaining the same. In that case, I can abandon the name of the Wimbledon Merchant Association, move them from the light into the shadows, and strengthen The Golden Company.” She added, “If necessary, I can also renounce my title as Marchioness Wimbledon…”

“Giving up the merchant association and moving into the shadows is the right choice. But giving up your title as Marchioness… then I can only give up on you.” Sylvia shook her head and retorted, “As Viscountess Randell, who would believe that you hold a neutral position?”

“But The Golden Company is made up of Black Market merchants…”

A look of disdain crossed Sylvia’s face as she chuckled. “Black Market merchants? If Victor were satisfied with black market trade, he wouldn’t be handing The Golden Company to you.”

“I’m not an expert in commerce, but I understand politics,” Sylvia said calmly. “Clement’s Holy See is the only truly neutral power. I was puzzled at first by Victor’s tireless efforts to develop the public carriage system. Now I understand. He was planning for The Golden Company.”

A flash of insight lit up Sophia’s mind. “The secret trade route’s cargo capacity is too small, so you plan to use public carriages to solve the transportation problem. The freemen merchants, eager to curry favor with the priests in their fiefs, are willing to lease the carriages even at a loss. And since the public carriages can transport goods over short distances under the protection of the Church, the lords can only tacitly allow the freemen merchants to take these measures to cut their losses. As long as we control the public carriages in two fiefs and bribe a few village heads for cover, the goods can be transported out. Once the lords get a taste of the profits, they’ll start secretly supporting the freemen merchants’ activities.”

“Victor, you truly are a genius,” Sophia sighed with sincere admiration. “I know what to do now.”

A genius? I’m just parroting what others have said. The intelligence of these two women is what’s truly impressive… Yes, a smart, beautiful woman who knows how to play dumb is particularly charming.

Victor looked at the smiling Sylvia and said, “Besides the channels, you also need a market. The Golden Company must win over certain great lords. Each kingdom needs a powerful ally to support The Golden Company. The shareholding system can help us achieve this. Sophia, you have a wide network of contacts. You can select partners for The Golden Company, but that excludes the Royal Family and their vassals.”

“At the moment… that’s a bit difficult.” Sophia’s slender brows furrowed, but then her expression filled with fighting spirit. “I will overcome the difficulties.”

Sylvia was silent for a moment before saying with emotion, “Sophia, you are tenacious and unyielding, drawing strength to advance from your struggles. I think it was a mistake to keep you in the Centaur Hills.”

Sophia smiled faintly, took Victor’s hand, and said softly, “If this path doesn’t work, I still have another. But with your support, I will not fail.”

“This is a trap… Let’s not talk about this for now.” Sylvia shook her head and changed the subject. “What do you know about the Masked Brotherhood?”

Victor pricked up his ears as Sophia said, “The Masked Brotherhood? All the villainous factions in the Kingdom of Borea call themselves the Masked Brotherhood, and that includes the bandit gangs in the eastern part of the Kingdom of Sus and the mercenary companies in the Eastern Alliance. The Brotherhood is actually a loose alliance of gangs, each supported by the eastern lords and clergy, and they’re responsible for controlling the freemen settlements in the Eastern Alliance.”

Victor was inwardly shocked, but he feigned curiosity and asked, “The Masked Brotherhood actually has the Church’s support? Which faction of the Church specifically?”

“Mainly the Inquisition… and some priests from small monasteries,” Sophia explained. “The Eastern Alliance is vast and its land barren. Most areas are overgrown with poisonous Devil Grass, which prevents any crops from growing. Those refugee settlements of various sizes have become breeding grounds for Wizards. The Inquisition supports the Masked Brotherhood mainly to gather intelligence on Wizards. The mercenary companies of the Masked Brotherhood are basically armed forces supported by the Inquisition and the monastery priests.”

Sylvia asked casually, “Is something wrong, my dear?”

Victor collected his thoughts and shook his head. “Nothing… No wonder the Masked Brotherhood was able to get the better of my men in Stonetooth City.”

Sylvia then asked, “Was the Dwemic family in Stonetooth City the partner you selected? How did you originally plan to persuade them?”

“Slap them in the face, and once it’s swollen, we’d talk cooperation.”

Victor smiled, calm and nonchalant. “The magistrate of Stonetooth City openly shelters the Masked Brotherhood and has killed many of my people. I was preparing to incite the Stag Merchants’ Guild to lure him into a trap and kill him, then frame the Masked Brotherhood for it. First, I’d sever the cooperative relationship between Stonetooth City and the Boreans, and then I’d negotiate with Marquess Dwemick.”

“If he refuses to cooperate, then we’ll just kill a few more magistrates.” Victor’s tone turned chillingly sharp. The core operatives that Quicksilver had painstakingly cultivated had been lost at the hands of Stonetooth City, leaving him simmering with rage.

“That’s just reckless,” Sophia said, shaking her head. “Do you really think the Dwemic family is such a soft persimmon? They have five Great Knights, over twenty Knights, and more than two hundred apprentice knights. Marquess Dwemick runs Stonetooth City like an iron fortress, and he has the backing of the Dodor Royal Family. I absolutely do not want to go head-to-head with him.”

“It is indeed reckless,” Sylvia said with a nod. “You only get one chance to strike, and it has to be enough to knock Dwemic down for the count… What good would luring and killing some insignificant magistrate do?”

Sylvia took a sip of the spicy Green Wheat Ale, parted her red lips, and said lightly, “Then, on Dwemick’s own turf, kill the Dodor Royal Family’s special envoy—Earl Horra Ludwig.”

Horra and Victor had clashed at the Blue Amber Inn, but their minor conflict had not reached the point of life and death. Moreover, Ludwig had publicly yielded and compensated Victor with a huge sum of money.

Victor had gained both face and fortune; he really couldn’t find a reason to hold a grudge against the man. Most importantly, Victor disliked pointless killing.

There were many ways to solve a problem, and violence was perhaps the simplest and most direct. But using violence to solve problems teetered on the bottom line between civilization and barbarism. Lawless places like forests, grasslands, and wastelands operated under the Law of the Dark Forest, where anyone could use any means to protect themselves without reproach. But high society had already formed its own fixed moral concepts and etiquette for resolving disputes. These social rules of coexistence protected everyone.

In other words, civilized people followed social rules to protect themselves.

You might not be the strongest, and even if you were, you could not remain strong and prosperous forever.

As a transmigrator from a highly civilized society, Victor always adhered to the bottom line of civilization—within the rules, do not abuse violence.

This was not weakness or pedantry, but a conviction essential for the strong.

Only by respecting power can you control it; otherwise, power will devour you.

The fall and demise of the Chosen were the most vivid examples.

Austin of the Briatte family had murdered the guards of the Randall family, so Victor could seek revenge. The magistrate of Stonetooth City had interfered in the struggle between Quicksilver and the Masked Brotherhood, killing spies of the Randall family, so Victor could have him killed. Earl Horace had already resolved their dispute, and Victor had no intention of crossing his own bottom line.

“I need a reason,” Victor said in a heavy voice, his gaze fixed on Sylvia.

“A reason?” Sylvia looked at her unusually serious paramour in surprise, then asked with a smile, “Earl Ludwig offended the companion of a Spirit Knight. He also tried to seduce the wife of Viscount Randell. Are those two reasons not enough?”

“Not enough,” Victor said, shaking his head. “He has already paid reparations of fifty thousand Gold Sols.”

Sylvia tapped on the table and said, “Kill Ludwig, and Marquess Dwemick will become a supporter of The Golden Company.”

Victor thought for a moment, but still shook his head. “There are many methods we haven’t tried yet… I cannot agree.”

“You’ve done well, my dear.” Sylvia nodded with a smile of approval. Then she rose to her feet, stared into Victor’s eyes, and said softly, “Killing Horra can save Sophia. Otherwise, she will never live past the age of seventy.”

Stunned, Victor looked at Sophia, who was as calm as still water, and then nodded. “That reason is sufficient.”

Chapter 430: Heartless, Heartfelt

“I don’t understand. If the Dodor Kingdom’s special envoy was assassinated in Marquess Dwemick’s Fief, why would the Dwemic family support The Golden Company?” Sophia lifted her head, her exquisitely beautiful face filled with confusion.

Sylvia smiled faintly and asked Victor, “Darling, what are your thoughts on this?”

“I have a rough idea, but I haven’t figured out the deeper reasons and specific details…” Victor mused for a moment, then shook his head and asked gravely, “Right now, I only want to know what this has to do with saving Sophia. Is she in grave danger?”

“A Raging Wave Knight who has resonated with thirty-six Elemental Nodes is that close to the Elemental Sea. Would you say that’s dangerous or not?” Sylvia glanced at Victor before turning her gaze to Sophia. “For a Bronze Bloodline family, no important scion becomes a Knight before eighteen, they don’t advance to Silver Knight before thirty-five, and they only consider resonating with the thirty-sixth Elemental Node after the age of seventy. High-ranked Knights like that can generally live to be about one hundred and ten. In their long lives, they experience growth, education, love, marriage, childbirth, and raising the next generation. They fully experience worldly emotions and build their own conviction before finally facing the torrent of the Elemental Sea.”

“You’ve progressed too quickly and haven’t had enough time to let things settle. In a short twenty years, you’re already standing on the shores of the Elemental Sea.” Sylvia leaned back in her chair, took a sip of Green Wheat Ale, and asked with great interest, “Your destination is clear, but have you ever properly considered what driving force has pushed you forward?”

Sophia’s expression grew pensive, and her voice was a melodious, almost self-reflective murmur. “I act more than I think. I wanted to heal my disability, so I awakened my Aura and became an apprentice knight. I wanted to support myself and Aunt Helen, so I joined the Wimbledon Merchant Association and became a caravan guard. I wanted to lead my own caravan, which meant I had to risk smuggling Mithril out of the Twilight Forest. I craved greater power, so I became a Knight and got my wish. I hoped for higher status, so I led my caravan to open a secret trade route. As a result, I ran into a saber-toothed beast, killed it with my own hands, and became a Silver Knight. In the end, the old Marquess left his legacy to the only Great Knight in the merchant association…”

Sophia’s voice became clear and firm. “I gradually came to understand a truth: only the power of a Knight can bring health, beauty, wealth, status, and the respect of the Nobles. I was overjoyed with every Elemental Node I resonated with, and before I knew it, I had arrived where I am today.”

“You call to the Elemental Sea, and the Elemental Sea calls back to you. The more It gives you, the stronger Its pull on you becomes. When your body and soul are completely assimilated by the void element, It will reclaim the power that does not belong to the mortal world. The law of the Elemental Sea is a cycle.” Sylvia nodded, continuing, “Sophia, I am certain you have already embarked on the path of the ancient knights—chasing the power of the Elemental Sea to elevate your level of life.”

“Level of life?” Victor looked at Sylvia curiously.

“Gold, Silver, and Bronze have never represented levels of power, but rather the unique levels of life for Knights, corresponding to the Elemental Sea, the void element, and the mortal world, respectively.” Sylvia explained, “Mortals are accustomed to applying the life levels of Knights to other creatures as a measure of their combat strength. This is actually a mistake. Darling, you must never assume that a Gold-rank creature can crush a Silver or Bronze-rank monster. The Snow Monster of Arreat could knock a Gold Knight to the brink of death with a single swipe, but Sophia lured it into a pond and killed it. The barbarians acknowledge her as an Urus, but no one would acknowledge her as a Gold Knight. In a battle of life and death, there are no ranks, only outcomes. There is no room for arrogance, nor is there room for fear.”

After educating her paramour, Sylvia turned back to Sophia. “Right now, you are an anomaly among Knights. But you haven’t realized this. That is why traps and dangers have always accompanied you.”

“Your Highness, I ask you to show me the way.” Sophia stood and performed a solemn Knight’s salute.

Sylvia pursed her lips into a smile and said playfully, “I harbor ill intentions toward you, yet you still seek my guidance?”

Victor looked from the startled and uncertain Sophia to the calm and composed Sylvia, and stammered, “What… What’s going on?”

Sylvia shook her head and chuckled. “You don’t even understand your own situation. No wonder everyone wants to take advantage of you.”

Sophia bit her plump, rosy lips. Feeling wronged yet defiant, she lifted her head. “No one ever taught me…”

“The paths of Knights are all different. How could anyone teach you? Who would be able to?”

Sylvia sighed. “The greatest problem for an anomaly is the desire to fit in with the group, to deny one’s true nature. But no matter how an anomaly denies themselves, the group will still ostracize them. This ostracism is natural; it has nothing to do with good or evil. It’s like a flock of sheep raising a wolf cub. It’s a carnivore, yet they insist on giving it the tenderest pasture grass. Good intentions bear evil fruit, and the wolf cub can only starve to death.”

“The Knights of the Bronze Bloodline fear the Elemental Sea. Through time and accumulation, they foster a deep attachment to their families, which they use as courage to forge ahead in the final moments of their lives. Almost no high-ranked Knight of a Bronze Bloodline can naturally advance to the Gold rank.” Sylvia shook her head, then added, “The ancient knights were all of the Gold Bloodline. They yearned to embrace the Elemental Sea, and seven or eight out of ten would advance successfully. Those who feared the Elemental Sea were, on the contrary, ridiculed by others.”

Realization dawned on Victor. “I see. The Knights of the Bronze Age are afraid of dying…”

“Nonsense!” Sylvia snapped. “The Gold Bloodline has a ship to brave the wind and waves. The Bronze Bloodline can’t even find the gate to the Elemental Sea. And even if the Silver Bloodline can find the gate, they have to swim back up on their own after jumping in… Those who die because they are not afraid of death are all fools. A reckless sacrifice is worthless; they’d be better off siring a few more Knightly descendants.”

“You’re absolutely right, darling,” Victor said sheepishly.

Sylvia shot him a glare and turned back to Sophia. “Sophia, you are of the Bronze Bloodline, yet you walk the path of the ancient knights. You have stirred the Elemental Sea and have already half-stepped through the gate to the Gold rank. The Elemental Sea’s pull on you is exceptionally strong; you can delay until you are eighty at most. How can you turn back now to rebuild a family conviction?”

“As long as you are willing to give up your influence over the barbarians, the Radiant Knights will demand the kingdoms grant you a fief, allowing you to establish your own family and rebuild your Creed of protection. On the surface, this is a sign of goodwill. But good intentions that bear evil fruit are, in fact, ill will.”

Sylvia gave a cold smile. “Besides a Gold Knight, who could enable a high-ranking female knight who is halfway to Gold to bear children? Which family would dare let their Gold Knight risk his life to sire a bloodline for a fledgling house? Or are you willing to entrust your life to a strange Gold Knight? I’d wager he would seize the opportunity to kill you and then take your fief as your partner.”

“Without heirs, how can you speak of protecting a family? After you perish, your influence over the barbarians will vanish into thin air, and your masterless fief will return to the King’s hands.” Sylvia poured a glass of ale, handed it to Sophia, and asked with a smile, “My dear cousin, is this not a trap?”

“The Radiant Knights hope I perish sooner rather than later… I had anticipated this, or I wouldn’t have brought Elder Harald to the Centaur Hills… It’s just that their manipulations leave me powerless to resist.” Sophia took a sip of the Green Wheat Ale, her gaze burning as she stared at Sylvia. She asked softly, “Why did you say you also harbor ill intentions toward me?”

“You don’t have deep feelings for the York family, so of course I must be wary of you.” Sylvia smiled candidly. “You walk the ancient knights’ path of relentless advancement. Any invitation for you to return to family life is ill-intentioned. But if you join any other power, you will have no chance of reaching the pinnacle. I, however, can give you the only chance you have—to protect the House of Randell.”

“You’ll live to eighty at most, which isn’t even as long as I will. If you perish, your wealth will belong to Victor, which means it will belong to me. If you successfully advance to Gold Knight… I will not permit anyone to divide my legacy. I would have no choice but to suppress you before my own fall.” Sylvia shook her head with a look of regret.

Looking at the perfectly composed Sylvia, Victor felt a chill run down his spine. He couldn’t help but ask, “Why must you be so heartless?”

Sylvia smiled gently. “You see? My Lover is utterly bewitched by you. With you by his side, I truly cannot expect him to protect the York family.”

“You’re overthinking things!” Victor said, indignant and upset.

“I’m overthinking things? Fine. In the future, when we’ve conquered vast territories, you can be the Emperor, and then I won’t have to think so much. Would Edward agree to that? If he doesn’t, could you kill Catherine’s son, Roland’s brother? For your sake, I don’t want to follow in Veronica’s footsteps. Why should Baselius be some Empress? Can’t I simply wish to leave a legacy for the York family?”

“I love you so much, yet you call me heartless?! That bastard Ryan was very romantic, wasn’t he? How many innocent people died because of him? You are full of sentiment, so I can only be ruthless. You are soft, so I can only be hard…”

Sylvia was on the verge of tears. Her Lover’s accusation of being “heartless” had struck a nerve with the Spirit Knight. The more she thought about it, the more wronged she felt. She allowed the sorrow to fester and spread, and crystal-like teardrops began to slide down her flawless white cheeks. Her shoulders trembled, and soon her face was a picture of tragic beauty, like a pear blossom in the rain.

The Spirit Knight was actually crying!

Looking at the heartbroken and helpless Sylvia, Sophia felt that Victor was the greatest villain of all. She lifted her high-heeled shoe and kicked him.

“Hurry up and comfort her!”

Victor snapped back to his senses and clumsily wrapped his arms around Sylvia, filled with self-reproach, apologizing, making vows, wiping her tears, and kissing her.

Watching the two of them in a deep, sweet, and tender embrace, Sophia felt a turmoil of mixed emotions. She couldn’t bear to shatter such a beautiful moment, yet a pang of sourness twisted in her heart.

Sylvia’s tears had deepened the bond between her and Victor. And I’m the one who personally delivered Victor to her, Sophia thought, her heart aching. Just as she was about to suppress her complicated and inexplicable emotions, she heard Sylvia’s voice, still thick with sobs.

“Don’t use your Aura… Savor these real emotions. This is a precious experience.”

“Darling, thank you. I haven’t cried in many years… This feeling is wonderful, and so unforgettable,” Sylvia said softly, holding Victor’s hand.

Victor held her, shaking his head with difficulty. “I still don’t like seeing you cry.”

Sylvia let out a laugh, like a rainbow after a storm, and the entire room seemed to brighten.

“Don’t hold me… Go sit over there.”

Sylvia gestured with her chin toward an empty chair. Once Victor was seated, she straightened her disheveled hair and said with a pout, “Go on, laugh at me if you want to.”

Sophia mulled over her own emotions for a moment before saying with frustration, “I’m obviously jealous, but I just can’t bring myself to be angry with you… I don’t want to laugh, and I want to cry but can’t.” As she spoke, she shot Victor a harsh glare and stomped on his foot again.

Victor sighed and shrugged innocently. Both of them were his women, and both faced severe problems, creating a strange relationship that left him both tormented and happy.

“The Golden Toad Mystic Form aligns with the Knight’s path of reversing the course to godhood. Teaching it to them might be counterproductive…” Victor thought to himself.

Sylvia composed herself and said calmly, “If you can neither laugh nor cry, then you can only move forward.”

“The Radiant Knights have set a fatal path for you. If you return to the House of Randell and take up the conviction of protecting our cause, I can give you a chance. But you will only have a sliver of an opportunity to advance to Gold Knight. I have to say, the path Victor arranged for you is the most suitable for your situation. You give up the merchant association, hold onto your title of Marchioness, find a way to ally with the Curia, and you have a Lover behind you who is infatuated with you and supports you. The official establishment of The Golden Company will be your moment to charge the Elemental Sea.”

“As for whether you can succeed, I have no answer for you here.” Sylvia shook her head. “You must choose your own path.”

The corners of Sophia’s lips curved up, and she declared, “I’ve come this far without anyone to guide my way, relying solely on my intuition. The Boreans tried to intimidate and entice me; I refused. The Pope gave me the choice of crossing the river at Great River Bend or returning to the Centaur Hills to build a port; I chose to return to the Centaur Hills. You asked me to return to the Randell Fief; I hesitated. Only Victor’s proposal filled my heart with joy.”

“The Golden Company is destined to be mine!”

“Destined to be ours,” Victor corrected.

Sophia took Victor’s hand, gave him a beautiful smile, and said firmly, “Yes, my husband, The Golden Company is destined to be ours!”

Sylvia nodded in approval. “If anyone were to block my path as a Knight, I would draw my sword against them. Sophia, you had the courage to face a saber-toothed beast and a Snow Monster. Do you not have the courage to carve out a path for yourself?”

“Then the Dodor Kingdom will just have to be the first to bear the brunt of your sword.”

Chapter 431: A Covert Advance

“The Dodor Kingdom’s geographical location is exceptionally advantageous,” Sylvia said, glancing at Victor before turning to Sophia. “To its north lie the Warton Great Plains, to the east the Naville basin, to the south Gambis, and to the west it connects with our Centaur Hills. If the Golden Company wants to enter the Sasan Empire in the north, it must first open up Dodor’s trade routes.”

Sylvia continued, “Victor’s choice of the Dwemic family as the Golden Company’s partner was very wise. Stonetooth City has a trade route connected to the Naville basin. Our York family has close relations with the great lords of Naville. Moreover, the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild has helped the people of Naville open a mountain path to the Worton Plains. As long as Stonetooth City is willing to support you, the Golden Company will face far less resistance on its way north.”

“I know that.”

Sophia shook her head and sighed. “The reason I’ve never dared to fall out with Dodor’s great lords is because they control the north-south trade channels. As for the mountain path I opened… it can’t be used to transport bulk goods.” She looked up and asked in confusion, “But I don’t understand. What does winning over Stonetooth City have to do with assassinating Dodor’s special envoy?”

“It has everything to do with it.”

Victor interjected, “For the past two months, I’ve been gathering intelligence on the Dodor Kingdom and studying their expansion strategy. Bishop Saen told me that the Dodor Kingdom plans to first develop the source of the Worton River—the Ghost Forest. They believe it’s rich in soft steel ore.”

“The Ghost Forest is on the periphery of the Endless Forest; no one knows how much wealth lies within. The Dodor Kingdom plans to use the Ghost Forest’s abundant water and timber to build fortresses and settlements, using Dragonbone Steel to forge more military heavy crossbows and superior armaments, building up their strength for another push into the Endless Forest.” Victor tapped the small round table. “But I believe there’s a deeper reason behind the Dodorians’ strategy to develop the Ghost Forest.”

“The Worton River makes a bend in the north of Dodor. That section of the river is called the Whitewater River. Dodor’s craftsmen pan for soft steel ore sand in the Whitewater River and smelt it into Dragonbone Steel. The Dodor Kingdom has a strong military presence at Whitewater Fortress, not just to defend against their northern neighbors, but also to monopolize the precious Dragonbone Steel.”

“However, the Dodorians now have a competitor—the Baselius family of the Iron Mountain Empire.”

Victor smiled and continued, “The Baselius family has suffered greatly at the hands of the Radiant Knights, but they are, after all, descendants of Spirit Knights and the only Gold Bloodline in the human kingdoms. Not only do they possess the powerful Griffin Knight Order, but they also have six Highnesses who answer the call of the Griffin banner. In terms of high-end military power, the Baselius family is stronger than the Dodor Kingdom. Their weakness lies in their grain shortages, inadequate armaments, and limited basic forces.”

“The new agropastoral system can help the Baselius family achieve self-sufficiency in food and shake off the Sasan royal family’s control. What they lack most are metal ores. The Radiant Knights will not allow the arrogant Iron Mountain Empire to rise from the ashes. The Baselius family has no hope of seizing mineral veins in the Northern Wildlands. Their gaze will inevitably turn south, towards the Ghost Forest and the Endless Forest.”

“And I’ve discovered another interesting phenomenon.”

Victor took a sip of sweet wine and said, “The Church is heavily promoting the new agro-husbandry. Logically, the Sasan Empire should first focus on recuperation, internal consolidation, and building up its forces, waiting for the Kingdom of Naville’s army to march north from Giantstone Fortress before joining forces to crush the centaur clans. Yet, the Sasan Empire continues to maintain frequent military activities in the Northern Wildlands.”

“And what have you deduced from that?” Sylvia asked with a smile.

Victor nodded. “To the north of the Baselius family’s territory is the Teutonic Duchy, to the west are the high mountains connecting to the Arreat Plateau, and to the east is the central part of the Sasan Empire. Only to the south do the Warton Plains lie open. The Griffin Knight Order can attack the gnoll clans of the Ghost Forest through the Warton Plains. If the Dodorians occupy the Ghost Forest first, the Baselius family will have no choice but to obey the Sasan royal family’s directives and focus their efforts on developing the Northern Wildlands.”

“Therefore, I believe the Feliett family and the House of Friedrich have reached a tacit understanding. The Sasan Empire will temporarily tie up the main legions of the Baselius family, allowing the Dodor Kingdom to seize the strategic points in the Ghost Forest first.”

Sylvia clapped her hands and laughed. “Dearest, your insight is sharp. This is the key for the Golden Company to snatch victory from the chaos.”

Sophia thought for a moment, then shook her head. “I still don’t understand. What does this have to do with the Golden Company?”

“Time.”

Victor set down his wine cup and explained, “Pope Clement’s faction is about to take over the church affairs of the Twelve Holy Cities on the plains from the Sasan Patriarch, Frieders. His Holiness the Pope maintains a neutral stance, advocating for resolving disputes between lords through negotiation. With the Pope’s student overseeing the plains’ church affairs, the Dodor Kingdom has fewer worries. However, the Sasan Empire has managed the Worton Plains for three hundred years and has immense influence over the plains’ nomads. If the Sasan Empire were to invade the south again, even if the Twelve Holy Cities remained neutral, the nomads would still provide cover and supplies to the Sasan army.”

“The Dodor Kingdom’s clearing of the gnoll clans on the Worton Plains and building a city on the outskirts of the Ghost Forest not only helps the plains people open up more pastures but also shelters the nomads during the cold Season of Water. With a few nomad tribes acting as their eyes and ears, it will be difficult for the Sasan Empire, including the Baselius family, to launch another surprise attack on Dodor’s northern border.”

“The strategy of developing the Ghost Forest is of paramount importance to the Dodor Kingdom!”

Victor’s tone shifted as he shook his head. “Unfortunately, the Dodorians lack time… The Sasan royal family can’t stall for too long, ten years at most, before the Sasan Empire must enter a phase of recuperation. The Dodor Kingdom must complete its initial development of the Ghost Forest before the Baselius legions return… The problem is, the Dodor Kingdom needs ample food and supplies!”

“Dearest, haven’t you always wanted to know what the Southwind Merchant Association used to buy off the Dodor lords?”

Victor smiled at Sophia. “I’ve been pondering that question as well. But then I realized, the main reason the Dodor lords are cooperating with the Southwind Merchant Association against you is to gather resources as quickly as possible!”

“Think about it. The Sasan Empire has turned the northern territories of the Dodor Kingdom, their most important grain-producing region, into ruins. The Dodor Kingdom has always been short on grain. How can they develop the Ghost Forest without enough food? The great lords of the Sasan Empire are all watching the royal family; the Feliett family absolutely cannot openly subsidize their empire’s old enemy.”

“So, the two sides came up with a solution.”

“The Southwind Merchant Association is fighting with the Stag Merchants’ Guild, and the Boreans are selling their purchased green wheat to Dodor’s great lords at a low price. Dodor’s great lords then make the same demand of the Stag Merchants’ Guild. If you don’t agree, the great lords remain silent and watch as the Masked Brotherhood attacks the Stag Merchants’ Guild’s sales network. The freemen merchants, isolated and helpless, can only turn to the Southwind Merchant Association. The Boreans thus replace the Stag Merchants’ Guild and establish their own sales network. On the other hand, regardless of whether you agree to the Dodor great lords’ conditions, they gain control of the domestic green wheat trade. They then sell the cheap green wheat to the lesser lords at a high price, rapidly accumulating wealth and resources.”

“This is why Dodor’s lesser lords oppose the Southwind Merchant Association and support the Stag Merchants’ Guild. But one can’t fight against the powerful. With the major lords determined to fleece them, the lesser lords have no choice but to bow their heads and accept their fate.”

Victor paused for a moment, then continued, “Of course, the Southwind Merchant Association is definitely taking a loss by doing this. But they killed Marquess Ephesus and took the wealth the Ephesus family had accumulated over centuries. The Southwind Merchant Association can afford the loss. You can’t.”

“Do you know what will happen next?” Victor asked, looking at Sophia with sympathy.

Sophia silently drained the Green Wheat Ale in her hand and said in a low voice, “The Stag Merchants’ Guild won’t be able to make money in the Dodor Kingdom and will have to cut its trade share. The merchants on the periphery of the guild will abandon me, and the guild’s members will also seek other opportunities…” She looked up, her eyes full of expectation. “Dearest, you’ve thought this through so clearly. You must have a way to break this scheme!”

Victor nodded reservedly and said with a touch of pride, “We will go from overt to covert, and divide and conquer.”

“Aerie Fortress has always seen the Wimbledon Merchant Association as its moneybag. If you lose the Dodor Kingdom’s market, it will create an avalanche effect. Aerie Fortress will urgently need a new commercial noble to replace you, or at least to hold on to the markets in other kingdoms. The Four-Leaf Clover Trading Company will be the first to jump out and oppose you, and then the core members of the Stag Merchants’ Guild will disperse and join new merchant associations. Since that’s the case, we should go with the flow and preemptively absorb the core members of the Stag Merchants’ Guild. In this respect, you have a natural advantage… Send out the Sabertooth Tiger Knights to help the Golden Company absorb the core members of the Stag Merchants’ Guild.”

Sophia pursed her lips and nodded. “Alright, I’ll listen to you.”

“On the other hand, Dodor’s great lords are not a monolithic bloc…” Seeing Sylvia listening with great interest, Victor continued, “They can unite to deal with you, but when it comes to dividing the spoils of development, they are bound to be competitors! This gives us an opportunity.”

“You’ll send someone to lure the magistrate of Stonetooth City into a trap and kill him, framing the Masked Brotherhood. Marquess Dwemic will be furious and order the expulsion of the Stag Merchant Association. The conflict between you and Dodor’s great lords will become public, forcing you to drop all pretenses of goodwill with the Dwemic family. You can then take the opportunity to bow to the other great lords, selling them green wheat at a low price, while refusing to do business with Stonetooth City. Instead, you’ll send caravans to trade with the surrounding lesser lords, disrupting Dwemic’s plan to exploit them. I’ll give you the raw sugar, and you can announce that you’ll cut off the raw sugar and green wheat supply to anyone who helps the Dwemic family.”

A playful smile appeared on Victor’s face. “Do you know what will happen next? Dodor’s powerful lords will be delighted to have one less strong competitor. They will secretly unite to pressure the Boreans, demanding that the Southwind Merchant Association reduce Stonetooth City’s trade share. Your firm stance will boost the morale of the Stag Merchants’ Guild, which will help the Sabertooth Tiger Knights convert its core members. The Dwemic family will be isolated by the other great lords. Not wanting to be left behind, Marquess Dwemic will have no choice but to negotiate with you. And just like that, our cooperative relationship will be established.”

“Didn’t Stonetooth City kill my men? Wasn’t Dwemic arrogant to my wife? First, we beat him black and blue, then he’ll be willing to sit down and talk,” Victor said with a cold smile.

Sophia stared at her little husband, lost in thought.

Victor raised an eyebrow. “What is it? Are there any other problems?”

“No,” Sophia shook her head, a faint smile on her lips. She said in a low voice, “I just suddenly find you especially… charming.”

“Brilliant,” Sylvia said, clapping. Then she added, “A pity this plan’s scope is too small. It doesn’t befit Sophia’s true power.”

“I don’t have that much time to waste on the House of Friedrich either.”

Victor thought for a moment, then nodded. “Dodor’s special envoy dies in Marquess Dwemic’s territory, and he has to face censure from both the Royal Family and the Ludwig family. Our plan to assassinate Earl Horra Ludwig is more drastic and the effect would be more obvious, but the risks and difficulty increase exponentially… The consequences are hard to predict.”

Sylvia shook her head. “The Dodor Kingdom has two Silver Bloodline families: the royal House of Friedrich, and the Queen’s family, House Ludwig. The five powerful lords are thus divided into two factions. However, Queen Ludwig’s children belong only to the Ludwig family, while the Friedrich Crown Princes are all born of low bloodline court ladies. The Ludwigs originally occupied the fertile northern part of the kingdom, but the Sasan Empire’s army pushed them into the central region. The Friedrichs have taken over the defense of the kingdom’s north, and this has also caused friction between the two great powers.”

“King Friedrich executed Duke Erickson of the Centaur Hills and enfeoffed his territory to the Royal Family’s vassals, like Viscount Negus. This shows that the royal family’s strategic focus is shifting to Dodor’s part of the Centaur Hills. The Ghost Forest just so happens to connect to the northernmost part of the Centaur Hills. The Friedrichs’ intention to seize the territories around the Ghost Forest is very clear.”

Victor frowned and muttered, “I didn’t notice that.”

Sylvia smiled. “I’ve received news that the Ludwigs want their northern territories back. The Dodor royal family, however, is using the excuse of compensating the great families for their sacrificed Knights to propose a plan to buy back the northern territories. Dodor’s powerful lords can obtain land in the north by providing resources and wealth. The Friedrich family is not participating in the buy-back. But Dwemic is a follower of the royal family…” Sylvia glanced at Victor. “How could the Dodor royal family let Dwemic fall behind? If you kill Marquess Dwemic’s magistrate, it’s a minor inconvenience for him; he can just endure it. King Friedrich will certainly support him secretly.”

“If the Golden Company is going to make a move, it must cut off Dwemic’s support. If Earl Horra Ludwig dies in a bandit attack in Stonetooth City, Duke Ludwig can use the opportunity to cause trouble, and the King of Dodor will have no choice but to punish Marquess Dwemic for his negligence. TheLudwigs will have lost a son, but they’ll gain a piece of territory. They will definitely keep a death grip on Dwecmick.” Sylvia leaned back in her chair and said lightly, “Now that is true isolation.”

Sophia said hesitantly, “Horra is a core member of the Ludwig family, after all, and Duke Ludwig is a Gold Knight. I’m worried that the Ludwigs will retaliate against the Golden Company in the future…”

“They won’t dare!”

Sylvia giggled. “My dear Sophia, you don’t know how powerful you really are. Even I have to coax you and scheme around you. Who would dare to openly oppose you?”

Seeing the surprised looks on Victor’s and Sophia’s faces, she asked slowly, “The Mountain Dwarves have left Arreat. What will the barbarians do when they can’t get enough to eat?”

“The barbarians’ grand market! They need to trade with humans!” Sophia exclaimed in sudden realization.

“Raid the lowlands…” Victor gasped in horror.

“If an alliance isn’t possible, then war is the only option,” Sylvia said with a sigh. “How can the Sasan Empire not be nervous? How can the Radiant Knights not be nervous? How can the Church not be nervous? How can we not be nervous?”

Victor glanced at Sophia and nodded. “No wonder everyone wants to weaken Sophia’s influence over the barbarians.”

“Weaken Sophia’s influence? How easy do you think that is?”

Sylvia scoffed and asked Sophia, “You once told me that the barbarian Elders at Halotes Fortress are divided into a traditionalist majority and a progressive minority. The traditionalist Elders lost a fight to the great elder of the progressives, and only then did they agree to let you undergo the Urus trial?”

“Yes,” Sophia nodded.

“Did you hear that?” Sylvia pointed at Sophia and said to Victor, “This human Urus is an Urus recognized by all the barbarian Elders. I can’t think of anyone who could replace her. If she were to be bullied, it would be seen as representing humanity’s attitude towards the barbarians! If the traditionalists gain the upper hand, the consequences would be unimaginable.”

“Do you know why Clement instructed Archbishop Oleg to cooperate with the Boreans to make trouble for Sophia? Because once Sophia gets the barbarians across the river, no one will be able to weaken her influence over Halotes Fortress! That is a situation Clement cannot accept. The Church must find a way to get closer to Elder Harald.”

Sylvia looked at the dumbfounded Sophia and shook her head. “Even if you had chosen to cross the river back then, I guarantee that all sorts of unexpected situations would have arisen to make you change your mind.”

“So, the Sasan Empire doesn’t dare to cut off the Wimbledon Merchant Association’s trade. When the Radiant Knights direct the Boreans and the Dodorians against you, they only dare to touch the freemen merchants, not the noble stewards of the Stag Merchants’ Guild. They are afraid of provoking you.” Sylvia sighed softly. “The old Marquess Sorim is preparing to challenge the Elemental Sea, so he dares to say anything, and no one can do anything about him. It’s not surprising for a half-Gold Raging Wave Knight to do anything. The Radiant Knights can only use gentle means against you, and it just so happens that you haven’t defined your own conviction and are still thinking of solving problems the way nobles do.”

Sylvia poured a cup of wine and handed it to Sophia. “My dear cousin, you have many trump cards, you just don’t know how to play them. You need the Golden Company, so I’m giving you the Golden Company. Our interests are aligned. You can trust my sincerity.”

“I trust you… and I trust my husband.” Sophia looked at Victor with tender affection, took the cup, and drank it in one gulp.

“Then I’ll tell you what to do.” Sylvia put down her empty wine cup and said, “In the eyes of the Radiant Knights, the Wimbledon Merchant Association belongs to the Auguste family. As long as you give up the merchant association, you can defuse the Sasan Empire’s biggest worry. Bullying the Dodorians a little is no problem at all. I’ll help you keep your Marchioness title, and the core members of the Golden Company will be loyal to you.”

“Within two days, you will set off with Raegzo for Stonetooth City. Before Horra leaves Marquess Dwemic’s territory, eliminate him. Then go to the Dodor Royal Capital to meet His Majesty King Friedrich and tell him frankly that you did it, that you admit defeat and just wanted to vent your anger. The raw sugar can soothe the King of Dodor’s resentment. Then, head north to the Sasan Empire, take the people from the Radiant Knights on a tour of Halotes Fortress, and let them see the strength of the barbarians and the ore of the dwarves with their own eyes. By the time you come down from the mountain, I guarantee you will be an honored guest of the great lords of the Sasan Empire. You don’t need me to teach you what to do after that.”

“Mm.” Sophia nodded and smiled confidently. “I will tell the Sassans that after the barbarians cross the river, I will dissolve the Wimbledon Merchant Association. Before that, the Wimbledon Merchant Association will handle the procurement of ore and herbs from Halotes Fortress. I’ll use this time to transition the Wimbledon Merchant Association from an overt operation to a covert one, and I’ll win over Bronze-Halberd City in the Sasan Empire to cooperate with the Golden Company.”

Sophia frowned and said, “I still feel that Victor’s mountain stronghold trade isn’t very useful. The mountain paths are rugged and difficult, the transport volume is too small, and the transportation costs are too high… If a great lord joins the Golden Company, we can use their influence to win over lesser lords and open up a better trade route. The mountain folks’ goods would still flow into the Golden Company through the territory’s villages.”

“I don’t know about that,” Sylvia said with a shake of her head and a smile. “But I must remind you, don’t forget the public carriages. The Holy See’s Curia will become the Golden Company’s most powerful supporter.”

“You’re right… The shareholding system is also crucial. I must ensure the Golden Company’s neutral position, settling dividends only with gold coins according to shares.”

“Do as you please. But you must guarantee that the barbarians’ specialty products can be transported to the Centaur Hills, and you must give me a sufficient share. One more thing, you must reconcile with the Boreans!”

“I will.”

In just a few exchanges, the two women had decided on the Golden Company’s development plan. Victor couldn’t get a word in edgewise. He shook his head in frustration, thinking to himself, I knew it. The moment I handed over the Golden Company, it wouldn’t be mine anymore… Fortunately, they can’t do anything about the mountain stronghold. Only my alchemical soldiers will work for me without fear of sacrifice or demand for reward to win over the mountain folk hunters.

Sylvia noticed her lover’s dejection and asked with concern, “Dearest, is there anything you’d like to add?”

Victor shook his head. “No… you two can decide.”

Sylvia pondered for a moment, then said to Sophia, “I won’t hide this from you. Lord Eckhart is in my hands. But I will not hand him over to you, and don’t ask why… Anything I value is not simple. It’s better for you not to know for now. The Sasan Patriarch, Frieders, is also a formidable character. You would find it very difficult to resist his truth-telling divine art.”

Sophia was silent for a few seconds, then said grimly, “I need to kill a chicken to scare the monkey and consolidate the internal factions of the Stag Merchants’ Guild. I’ll just announce that Eckhart was assassinated by the Masked Brotherhood… They can think whatever they want!”

Sylvia nodded and said, “Horra Ludwig won’t be easy to deal with. He himself is a senior knight, and he has two Knights, eight apprentice knights, and one hundred elite soldiers under his command. When you visit Stonetooth City with Raegzo, the Dwemic family’s Great Knights won’t dare to be careless and will surely be focused on you. However, even if Marquess Dwemic doesn’t send a Great Knight to escort Earl Horra safely out of his territory, he will still send a knight squad and regular soldiers. Can your people handle them?”

Sophia shook her head with difficulty. “Unless I act personally… Otherwise, I’ll have to have a Weapon Master disguise himself as a barbarian follower of the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild…”

“You absolutely cannot let a barbarian attack a noble! Not even the barbarian warriors of the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild.”

Sylvia flatly rejected Sophia’s proposal. After a moment’s thought, she said, “How about this. I’ll have Trisley take a few Rose Knights to help the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild eliminate Horra, but I can’t send Tusk Soldiers over. You’ll need to mobilize at least two hundred merchant guild guards to pose as bandits.”

An idea struck Victor, and he interjected, “I’ll do it. I’ll send Narsen. I still have over three hundred mountain folk hunters in Stonetooth City.”

“You’ve hidden that many people in Dodor?” Sylvia gave him a sidelong glance that was half a smile. “Are you sure you want to risk Narsen? Horra is a senior knight of the Ludwig family. He could advance to the Silver realm at any time. Remember, any time!”

Victor had intended to use this opportunity to dig out Shadow of the Masked Brotherhood as well. If the Sabertooth Tiger Knights and the York family hadn’t gotten involved, Victor could have achieved both goals without even sending Narsen. The current situation, however, left him feeling constrained.

It seemed he would have to forego the alchemical militia and mobilize the alchemical auxiliary soldiers and mountain folk hunters to help Narsen complete the mission… Victor gritted his teeth and said, “I’m sure that Narsen is stronger.”

“Alright. I’ll have Trisley rendezvous with Narsen and the Sabertooth Tiger Knights to ensure the assassination is foolproof.” Sylvia shrugged nonchalantly, then stood up. “A Marquess from the Royal Capital cannot stay overnight at a powerful lord’s residence. Victor, see Sophia out. And then…” She wrapped her arms around Victor’s neck and smiled charmingly. “Then, wait for me in the bedroom… I’ve prepared a gift for you tonight.”

Sophia snorted and turned to leave the room. Victor, with an awkward expression, hurried after her.

The two walked side by side in silence. When they reached the entrance of the Duke’s residence, Sophia stopped, gazed into Victor’s eyes, and asked softly, “You said you formed the Golden Company to get back at me for abandoning you, that you wanted to defeat the Wimbledon Merchant Association and make me obediently be your wife… Was that the truth?”

Victor nodded. “It was true.”

Such thoughts would indeed occur to the little Baron.

“Then why have you now given the Golden Company to me… Should I be happy, or should I be sad?” Sophia looked down at the tips of her toes.

“Do what you love to do. If you’re happy, I’m happy,” Victor shrugged and smiled. “In any case, you are Viscountess Randell, and I am the husband of the Wimbledon Marchioness. No one can change that.”

A captivating smile bloomed on Sophia’s beautiful face. She placed a light kiss on her husband’s lips and said softly, “Dearest, you’re right… I promise you, no one can change the fact that I am your wife… Tonight you belong to Sylvia, but tomorrow night, you can only be with me.” With that, she turned gracefully, boarded her carriage, and waved goodbye to Victor.

The Marquess’s carriage disappeared into the beautiful night of Blinor City. Victor touched his lips, then turned and walked back into the Duke’s residence.

Chapter 432: A Night Visit (Part 1)

The nights of the Season of Water were always cold and dark.

A dense layer of clouds concealed the silver moon, leaving only a dim halo in the sky. The faint moonlight could not even cast a shadow. The square in Blinor’s inner city was pitch-black, a place where you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. In the center of the square, the grand cathedral had lit numerous braziers, which glowed like a towering lighthouse, illuminating hope and direction for the people in the deep night.

The four Sacred Warriors responsible for guarding the cathedral gates huddled around a waist-high brazier, warding off the damp, cold mist while murmuring amongst themselves, their gazes occasionally darting toward the nearby streets and alleys.

The nobles enjoyed their rich nightlife only in the comfort of their homes, where there were warm fireplaces, bright candlelight, exquisite food, attentive servants, intimate companions, and comfortable beds. After nightfall, the once-bustling cathedral square became empty and desolate. Only the patrols of Blinor City’s night watch would pass through the square, pausing briefly at the cathedral entrance to warm their cloaks and chat with the Sacred Warriors to relieve the boredom.

However, from sunset until now, the Sacred Warriors on duty had not seen the patrol’s torches. They gossiped amongst themselves, all feeling that something significant was afoot tonight.

The crisp clatter of horse hooves and the rumble of wheels over flagstones confirmed the Sacred Warriors’ speculation. Out of the darkness, a four-wheeled carriage pulled by two ponies slowly approached and stopped before the cathedral steps. A sword-bearing attendant leaped down from the open-air seat at the back of the carriage and, ignoring the cathedral guards who came forward to question him, held up a crystal lantern in one hand while gently placing a golden footstool at the carriage door with the other.

The four Sacred Warriors did not reprimand the attendant for his impudence. Instead, they stood tall and solemn, forming an honor guard to welcome a distinguished guest.

In Blinor’s inner city, only core members of the Royal Family and the three Guardians were qualified to ride in a four-wheeled carriage. A rose sigil was painted on a corner of this carriage’s wall, leaving no doubt as to the identity of its owner.

Two tall, slender noblewomen alighted from the carriage one after the other. They were completely shrouded in hooded cloaks, obscuring their features, but the unique rhythm of their graceful movements projected an aura of unparalleled beauty. This was especially true for the woman in the lead. It was as if the very ground she trod upon was the center of the world. Though she was clearly ascending the steps, the towering cathedral seemed to be actively drawing near to her.

The Sacred Warriors bowed their heads, guarding the two noble ladies as they climbed, their minds filled with nothing but awe.

“I will receive our distinguished guests. Return to your posts and do not let anyone else approach the cathedral.”

A bald, eyebrowless Sacred Warrior appeared as if from nowhere, and the disorienting spatial phenomenon instantly dissolved. The four Sacred Warriors on duty breathed a sigh of relief and saluted respectfully. “As you command, Lord Tournans.”

“Your Highness, please follow me. His Holiness the Pope is waiting for you in the confessional chamber in the side hall.” Tournans nodded in greeting, then glanced up at the dark, unlit alleyways of the square and muttered under his breath, “Was it really necessary to cause such a commotion? Nearly startled me out of my mental dreamscape…”

“Lead the way,” Sylvia said coolly.

Tournans turned to lead the way, grumbling as he walked, “Several nights of effort, all wasted… Whatever you two talk about, I’m listening in.”

The three of them descended a spiral staircase to the lowest level of the cathedral, where they faced a smooth stone wall with an oak door set into it. Tournans pushed the door open. The room was sparsely furnished with only a table and two chairs, bathed in the soft glow of a tallow candle. Pope Clement, dressed in a white robe, sat in one of the chairs and smiled, nodding at his two guests.

“Our arrival was abrupt. I hope we have not disturbed His Holiness.”

Sylvia lowered her hood, revealing a face of devastating beauty, and entered the cramped, secret room with her companion. Tournans was the last to enter, closing the door behind him. He leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, an expression on his face that clearly said, “I’m staying right here.”

Clement shot the Legendary Sacred Warrior a helpless look before turning to his guests. “Your Highness Sylvia, please, have a seat.” Then he said apologetically to the other woman, “Lady York, welcome to Brinol Cathedral. I’m afraid we didn’t prepare many chairs.”

Katerina curtsied gracefully, lifting the hem of her skirt. “Your Holiness, please forgive Katerina’s presumptuous visit.”

Clement nodded and smiled at Sylvia. “I plan to depart for the Holy See in ten days. I hope you won’t delay me for too long.”

“I won’t take up too much of His Holiness’s time.”

Sylvia glanced at the half-burned tallow candle on the table and nodded. “At most, the time it takes to replace a candle… Before we begin, I would like to confirm something with Your Holiness.”

“Please, ask,” Clement said gently.

“Archbishop Oleg is a dear friend from your student days. He has presided over the church affairs of the Kingdom of Borea and the Eastern Alliance for over twenty-two years. I imagine he must know that the Borrey United Kingdom has recently developed a new Vigor Potion?” Sylvia asked with a smile.

Clement mulled it over for a moment before speaking slowly, “Church affairs in the Eastern Alliance have always been in the hands of the Inquisition; Oleg is merely a figurehead. As for the Kingdom of Borea’s new Vigor Potion, we have indeed heard of it. But we do not know the specific formula, only that it requires several herbs unique to the Arreat Plateau.”

The scholars and priests of the Curia were keen on researching potions for common people and had little interest in the Vigor Potions and cleansing potions exclusive to Knight-Nobles. They would neither go out of their way to pry for such intelligence nor would they readily disclose a lord’s research findings to others.

Clement had tactfully stated his position, but he keenly sensed Katerina’s sudden relaxation and couldn’t help but feel a flicker of suspicion. Sylvia, however, had no intention of being coy. “I have some of the new Vigor Potion with me. I trust His Holiness will be interested in trying it.”

Katerina produced a vial of golden liquid and placed it on the table. Sylvia explained, “Due to time constraints, I only brought a small portion of the potion. The time it takes for half a candle to burn should be enough for His Holiness to experience its extraordinary effects.”

Clement picked up the crystal vial. After checking it with a detection divine art, he opened the cap and poured the golden liquid into his mouth.

“This is…”

A pure Aura surged endlessly from his stomach. Clement focused his mind, circulating his own Aura with all his might. Time passed, second by second. When he opened his eyes again, he saw a new candle on the table. Tournans asked with concern, “Your Holiness, my intuition tells me the potion is beneficial to you. So? What are its effects?”

Clement shook his head without answering, his brow furrowed in deep thought.

When the new candle had burned halfway down, the Pope tapped the table, his brow smoothing. “What do you want?”

Sylvia said gently, “Your Holiness, you are well aware of Sophia’s condition and circumstances. Sophia will soon be visiting Halotes Fortress and has invited the Radiant Knights to jointly expand the barbarian trade. When she and her retinue pass through the Dodor Kingdom, I hope the Church can guarantee her safety. After all, the Dodorians once murdered a Great Knight of Gambis.”

“The Dodor Kingdom murdered who?” Tournans’s eyes widened as he pressed for an answer.

Katerina answered, “Austin Briart.”

“Austin? Wasn’t he…” Tournans’s expression shifted to one of dawning realization, then he clamped his mouth shut, maintaining a grave and serious demeanor. He thought smugly to himself, That was a close one. I can just ask His Holiness after Sylvia leaves.

Clement remained silent. Sylvia continued, “I assure you, Sophia will dissolve the Wimbledon Merchant Association within twenty years, and it will be beneficial to the bigger picture. At the very least, I am more respectful of the Holy See than King Friedrich, am I not?”

“Ten years at most,” Clement said, shaking his head.

Sylvia let out a soft laugh. “We need fifteen years.” Seeing Clement still shaking his head, she added, “The matter with the Kingdom of Borea will be resolved by me. Furthermore, Sophia will invest heavily in the public carriages of Dodor and Sasan.”

Clement considered this and finally nodded. “Very well, no more than fifteen years… Also, this is a one-time exception. If there is a next time, there is no need to come find me.”

“Agreed.” Sylvia rose and curtsied. “I have other matters to attend to. I shall take my leave.”

Sylvia and Katerina left the secret room. Tournans pricked up his ears for a moment before sidling up to Clement, looking at him with expectant eyes.

“That small vial of potion allowed me to resonate with a new Elemental Node,” the Pope explained helplessly.

“Hmm.” Tournans rubbed his gleaming scalp and paced around the room a few times before nodding. “I think I mostly understand… And then?”

“Sylvia, Auguste, the Five Great Families of Borea, and we ourselves will need to join forces to establish a new balance with the Radiant Knights.”

“Hmm… And specifically?”

“You should be in bed.”

“Tutor, I can’t sleep,” Tournans pleaded.

Clement shook his head with a smile. “Sylvia intends to forge a path to the Gold rank for Sophia. Some will benefit from this, and some will have to pay a price. I can guess how events might unfold, but guesses are not outcomes. Because no one can control all the variables, things could get better, or they could get much worse. If we become too deeply involved, we will lose our room to maneuver and might even become pawns in someone else’s game… I don’t want to know Sylvia’s specific methods, which is why she had no need to spell them out for us.”

“Tournans, you must remember, your stance is your bottom line. Knowing too many details is tantamount to changing our own stance, and we would lose our value as collaborators.”

Before boarding her carriage, Sylvia beckoned toward the mouth of an alley.

A man clad in the armor of the Household Department emerged from the darkness. The silver harrier sigil on his armor identified him as a Silver Knight. He bowed and asked, “Your Highness, what are your orders?”

“Inform Her Highness the princess and His Highness the Regent to wait for me at Marquess Golan’s residence,” Sylvia commanded coolly, then boarded the carriage with Katerina.

“As you wish, Your Highness.” The Knight of the Household Department bowed to the carriage and quickly turned to depart.

The coachman flicked the reins, and the carriage slowly pulled away from the cathedral square.

Marquess Golan’s residence was adjacent to Aerie Fortress and not far from the cathedral. Even so, the coachman took a full half-hour, driving at a leisurely pace to reach their destination.

The Silver Knight from the Household Department stood guard alone at the entrance. When Sylvia and Katerina stepped down from the carriage, he led the two ladies silently through the Marquess’s garden. Along the way, they encountered not a single servant or guard; Marquess Golan had clearly prepared for a secret meeting. The three of them came to a stop at the door of a detached small building, and the knight halted.

The moment Sylvia and Katerina entered, they saw Roland.

The Eldest Princess of Gambis was wearing a blue nightgown, her platinum-blonde hair loose and her feet clad in bearskin slippers. She looked as if she had just crawled out of bed—languid and annoyed, yet with a hint of furtive curiosity. She first gave Katerina a warm embrace, then asked Sylvia, “Trisley didn’t come with you?”

Sylvia shot Roland a sidelong glance and walked straight toward the last room in the corridor.

“Your Highness, why do you mention Trisley? And why haven’t you changed?” Katerina asked Roland softly, falling a few steps behind Sylvia.

“Isn’t this the time for sleeping? What’s wrong with me wearing a nightgown?” Roland complained self-righteously. “I was sound asleep when old man Goron insisted on dragging me over here…”

“You were sleeping in again,” Katerina said, stifling a giggle with her hand. “I should have known.”

“My dear, I thought you would be spending a wonderful evening, but I never expected it would be you accompanying Sylvia,” Roland whispered mischievously.

Katerina was completely baffled at first, but then she understood her close friend’s teasing. Her pretty face flushed slightly red as she retorted, “What nonsense are you talking about? I’ve brought you good news.”

“The moment Sylvia left, I knew it was good news. I told them she would definitely come, but old man Goron didn’t believe me. Now they have nothing to say for themselves,” Roland said, lifting her delicate chin proudly.

“My dear princess, you are the smartest, most beautiful princess in the world. Is that enough?”

“Of course.”

The three of them reached the end of the corridor. Williams pushed open the door from inside and said warmly, “Your Highness, your late-night visit must mean you have good news for us.”

Sylvia entered the room, nodded a greeting to Marquess Golan, and said with a smile, “Good news is always accompanied by great trouble… I hope it won’t be too much of a bother for you all.”

Williams and Katerina exchanged greetings. He closed the door and said, “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Let’s sit and talk.” Marquess Golan personally pulled out chairs for the two ladies.

After sitting down, Sylvia said to Marquess Golan, “Time is of the essence. Please summon a knight guard. Seeing is believing.”

Marquess Golan tugged a rope on the wall. Before long, a young knight with a steady demeanor entered the room and bowed. “My lord, what are your orders?”

Sylvia took the crystal vial from Katerina’s hand, placed it on the table, and said, “Have him drink this, circulate his Aura, and resonate with a new Elemental Node.”

Williams was visibly shaken. Roland’s eyes lit up, and she reached for the crystal vial, only to be stopped by Sylvia.

“No one else is to touch it. I want to watch him drink it and absorb the entire potion with my own eyes,” Sylvia said with a meaningful smile.

Marquess Golan’s profound gaze swept across everyone’s faces, and he gave a slight nod. The knight picked up the potion, tilted his head back, and drank it down. He then closed his eyes and silently circulated his Aura.

A half-hour later, he opened his eyes and stammered, “My… my lord, I’ve resonated with another… another Elemental Node.”

“Incredible! Absolutely incredible!”

Williams walked over to the knight, studying him with delight.

“Interesting.” Roland perched on the edge of the table, swinging her shapely, snow-white calves. “Sylvia,” she said, her voice filled with interest, “you’ve brought a trouble that surpasses all imagination.”

“Your Highness, mind your etiquette.” Golan shot her a glare before turning to the knight guard. “Becker, you are not to mention this to anyone! If there are more of these potions later, you will be the first to use them. You may leave.”

“Thank you for your patronage, my lord.” The knight guard bowed, cast a grateful look at Sylvia and Katerina, and left the room.

“Becker’s father and older brother died in battle in the three eastern provinces. When the Swift Dragon Knights were expanding for war, Becker followed my orders and used a Vigor Potion to advance to Knight, but he only resonated with thirteen elemental nodes… There are many more Swift Dragon Knights like him,” Marquess Golan said with emotion. He paused, his gaze burning as he asked, “Your Highness Sylvia, what is this potion?”

Sylvia held the crystal vial in her palm. A deep green void water element swirled in her hand until the vial had been completely corroded away, at which point it dissipated into a cloud of mist. Sylvia withdrew her jade-like, flawless hand and said with a beaming smile, “Gold Restoration Potion. It is equally effective for apprentice knights, but it cannot help a Knight reach the extraordinary realm.”

“A Gold Potion? It lives up to its name.” Marquess Golan nodded. After a moment of thought, he said, “I only hope it is not as rare as a Gold Knight.”

“If it couldn’t be mass-produced, Sylvia would have called it a Legendary Restoration Potion, and she certainly wouldn’t be up at this hour calling us all here,” Roland said with a grin.

Gambis has thousands of Swift Dragon Knights, most of whom are apprentice knights and Knights who advanced with the help of potions. If the Gold Potion could bring them all to the level of senior apprentice knights and senior knights, the overall strength of the Glory Knights and Swift Dragon Knights would see an unimaginable boost. Why would Sylvia bring out such a precious extraordinary potion? Unless she wants something from us… That’s it, it must be Aerie Fortress’s secret cleansing potion! Our cleansing potion is exceptionally effective and has a high probability of awakening Aura in regular nobles. The York family is preparing an aberrant war beast knight order; they need more apprentice knights. Haha, this way, the value of the Gold Restoration Potion is transferred to Aerie Fortress’s secret cleansing potion… Williams’s mind raced, instantly grasping Sylvia’s objective. Suppressing his excitement, he tentatively asked, “How can we obtain the formula for the Gold Restoration Potion?”

Sylvia’s bright gaze fell upon the Regent’s face as if she could see right through him. Her red lips parted, and she uttered a word familiar to every noble.

“A marriage alliance.”

Chapter 433: A Night Visit (Part 2)

“A… A marriage alliance?”

Williams froze on the spot. Before he could even react, Roland hopped off the table and declared, “If it’s Anna marrying Edward, I fully support the proposal for a marriage alliance!”

Marquess Golan’s gaze, sharp as lightning, pierced Roland’s emerald eyes, but she stared back without the slightest hesitation. Golan lowered his eyelids and said grimly, “This matter…”

“In ten days, I will return to the Centaur Hills. You must make your decision within ten days, hold the betrothal ceremony, and inform the Holy See and the lords of Gambis.” Sylvia cut Marquess Golan off. “Please, consider this carefully, all of you. I shall take my leave now.” With that, she nodded to Roland and left the room with Katerina.

Marquess Golan sat rigidly in his chair, his eyes closed in deep thought. Roland, out of boredom, idly twirled a lock of her fine hair around her finger. Williams paced back and forth, his head bowed.

After a long while, Williams stopped pacing and looked up. “My mind is a complete mess right now. Let’s all share our thoughts. I’ll start.” He paused, then began, “Let’s set aside the recipe’s origin and the Pontiff’s involvement for a moment, and just talk about the Gold Restoration Potion itself.”

“All extraordinary powers have an attractive quality, and that includes extraordinary potions. The Gold Restoration Potion’s allure is certainly no less than that of a Gold Knight’s Bloodline. I can imagine that once Sylvia begins to use the Gold Restoration Potion openly, the scions of the minor families will flock to the Centaur Hills, risking life and limb. Especially those apprentice knights with no confidence in reaching the Bronze-rank. With the Gold Restoration Potion, their bloodline purity can reach the level of a senior knight, and their descendants will have a high chance of naturally awakening an Aura. That’s because they’ll be able to find partners who are also senior knights in the Centaur Hills.”

“The minor families follow Gold Knights to improve their descendants’ bloodlines, but the Gold Restoration Potion can enhance their own strength and bloodline purity. The York family has a Silver Knight, land, a title, and a Spirit Knight Guardian. The longer they monopolize the Gold Potion, the smaller the gap in strength between us becomes, and they might even surpass us.”

“In truth, Aerie Fortress’s secret cleansing potion isn’t that important to Sylvia.” Williams looked at Marquess Golan and sighed heavily. “We cannot do without the Gold Restoration Potion.”

Marquess Golan waved his hand. “Don’t consider my relationship with Margaret. If necessary, I will personally persuade her mother to have Margaret relinquish her position as Queen. What I’m worried about is that the political impact of this marriage alliance will outweigh the benefits of the Gold Restoration Potion.”

Every few generations, the Auguste family would arrange a marriage alliance with a powerful lord. This was beneficial for strengthening Aerie Fortress’s influence over the great families. But the York family was not among them—or rather, the Royal Family could not so easily form a marriage alliance with the family of a Spirit Knight. It would be one thing for the York family to marry a noblewoman from a collateral branch of the Augustes, but for a noblewoman of the York family to ascend to the throne as Queen… in the eyes of the great nobles, that would be tantamount to the Auguste family bowing its noble head to the Yorks. And if the Royal Family had already conceded defeat, what reason would the other great families have to continue containing the Centaur Hills? Marriage alliances from great families and pledges of allegiance from minor families would become the norm for the Yorks, and it would be very difficult for Aerie Fortress to curb Sylvia’s political influence.

While Williams and Marquess Golan were caught in a dilemma, Roland said nonchalantly, “Sylvia has Victor. She couldn’t be bothered with external powers. She wants a York family she can command as an extension of herself, one whose mainstream bloodline she can elevate so her legacy will endure for ages. You two are truly overthinking things!”

Marquess Golan thought for a moment, then slowly nodded in agreement with Roland’s assessment.

Williams cleared his throat and asked, “If that’s the case, why does Sylvia want a marriage alliance with us? And what makes her so certain we will bend to her will? To the first question, I believe Sylvia must have our support to acquire more Gold Potions. You saw it just now—Sylvia watched Becker digest the potion and even destroyed the crystal vial in front of us. This shows that she is wary of the extraordinary skill of Aerie Fortress’s apothecaries. It also means she knows that the Gold Potion’s recipe cannot be kept secret.”

“For an extraordinary potion this important, secrecy is impossible once you start using it. It’s only a matter of time before the recipe is revealed,” Marquess Golan nodded, then fixed his gaze on Roland. “Tell me,” he asked in a low voice, “what trump card does Sylvia have that would compel us to make Angelina the Queen, even at the cost of offending the Wellington family?”

Roland flew into a rage, leaping up and pointing at Marquess Golan’s nose. “You old man! Margaret’s personality is just as domineering as her mother’s! But don’t you forget, Edward is not Duke Wellington. He is of the core bloodline of Auguste, the son of Ryan, the Lord of Gambis, and the brother of the most beautiful, noble, and intelligent princess in history. By what right do you manipulate his marriage? Margaret wants to bend Edward’s will, but Edward is stubborn and proud. He will only succeed in changing Margaret’s mind. There’s no way their marriage could be happy. Are you trying to sever their paths as Knights?”

“The marriage of a King and Queen is a duty. Once Edward achieves the Silver-rank, they will have every right to pursue their own love and happiness.” Marquess Golan retorted with a stone-cold expression, “How do you know Edward won’t fall in love with Margaret?”

Roland’s anger suddenly deflated. Her eyes darted around, and she stretched lazily. “I’m so sleepy. I’m going to bed.” She walked toward the door, yawning, but turned her head before leaving. “Since you’re thinking so hard, I’ll give you a hint—time, and the Boreans.”

With a soft click, Roland shut the door and her light footsteps faded down the corridor.

“Time… the Kingdom of Borea?”

Williams repeated the words several times, his eyes gradually brightening with understanding. “I see now,” he said, realization dawning on him. “Tutor, we need to buy time. ‘We’ refers to the Augustes, Sylvia, the Pontiff, and the Kingdom of Borea.”

“The Sassans are under pressure from the Eastern Wildlands. The people of Sus have to defend against the Gnoll kingdom in the Twilight Forest. They both rely on the strength of the Radiant Knights. But the Kingdom of Borea doesn’t have these problems. In fact, Sus and Borea are competitors, especially when it comes to medicinal herbs. The Kingdom of Sus has been using the Radiant Knights’ power to exploit the Kingdom of Borea. The Five Great Families of Borea have a very cool relationship with the Radiant Knights. They have no reason to cooperate with the Radiant Knights to suppress Sophia’s merchant association. Unless, they are forced to!”

Marquess Golan frowned. “Are you saying that Sylvia’s Gold Restoration Potion comes from the Kingdom of Borea?”

“Yes!” Williams smiled. “The Boreans have been trying to modify the recipes for the cleansing and restoration potions, hoping to break free from the Kingdom of Sus’s control and cultivate more knights and apprentice knights. Replacing the herbs from the Twilight Forest with other ingredients has become the primary research direction for Borean apothecaries. I suspect they accidentally invented the Gold Restoration Potion, but it requires herbs from the Arreat Plateau.”

Marquess Golan pondered for a moment before nodding. “That would make sense. Sophia controls the barbarian trade, but the Sasan Empire and the Dodor Kingdom control the trade routes. Without their permission, no herbs can be transported to the Kingdom of Borea. With Sophia facing ruin, the Boreans could only choose the Radiant Knights. Borea’s establishment of the Southwind Merchant Association was both to curry favor with the Radiant Knights and to replace Sophia’s caravan, opening up their own trade route for the Five Great Families.”

“The Radiant Knights don’t know about the Gold Restoration Potion yet,” Williams interjected. “The Boreans have offended Sophia, and she has cut off their access to the barbarian trade. If the Radiant Knights find out prematurely that the ingredients for the Gold Potion come from the Arreat Plateau, they would need something from Sophia, and might even sacrifice the Boreans’ interests to get it. That would actually be a bad thing for the Kingdom of Borea.”

“But Archbishop Oleg would surely find out about the Gold Restoration Potion!”

Williams paused for a moment before continuing, “Let’s assume the Radiant Knights obtained the Gold Restoration Potion. Scions of knights from all the kingdoms would flock to pledge their allegiance to the Sasan Empire. The Church’s northern expansion strategy would inevitably overwhelm the southern expansion strategy. Patriarch Frieders’s prestige would soar, and it’s highly likely he would gain complete control of the Holy See’s Curia.”

“Not likely. It’s a certainty!”

Marquess Golan shook his head and sighed. “Clement cannot accept the Radiant Knights gaining total influence over the Church, but he also cannot violate the principle of clerical unity on this issue. So, he secretly passed the recipe into Sylvia’s hands, with Sophia being the key.”

“Weakening Sophia’s influence over the barbarians was a plan orchestrated by the Pontiff himself. Sophia won’t last much longer. The Sasan Empire and the Dodor Kingdom will gradually cut off her trade routes within ten years. However, Archbishop Oleg of Borea suddenly obtained the recipe for the Gold Restoration Potion. Clement’s only hope is that the southern lords can stockpile enough herbs before Sophia’s influence is completely diminished, thereby retaining the scions of their families and preventing the southern expansion strategy from collapsing.”

“So it really is a matter of time…” Marquess Golan said, frustrated. “As things stand, Sylvia and Sophia’s relationship is the closest… and it’s the same with Victor.”

“We have our own advantages,” Williams said with a confident smile. “The Radiant Knights can’t possibly monopolize the herbs of the Arreat Plateau; that would trigger a full-scale war. But their control over the distribution of the herbs would still be a major headache for us. Sylvia intends to use Sophia’s influence over the barbarians to fight for distribution rights. On this point, the interests of the southern lords are aligned.”

“Angelina is not just a noblewoman of the York family; she is also Sophia’s only student. Sylvia proposed this marriage alliance to protect Sophia’s title. Only then will Sophia be motivated to continue her trade with the barbarians. As long as we hand over the recipe for the cleansing potion, Sylvia will have Sophia help Gambis establish a new merchant association and secure a share of the barbarian trade. Sophia has the ability to do that. Furthermore, because of her relationship with the future queen, the share of herbs the York family occupies will be second only to Aerie Fortress, and the other lords will have no grounds for complaint.”

“Of course, it would be more beneficial for us if Sophia stayed in Blinor City. The Marchioness of Aerie Fortress is, after all, the wife of a future Sword Saint.”

Williams laughed heartily and said with pride, “Roland truly is the most noble, beautiful, and intelligent princess.”

“And the most unreliable one,” Marquess Golan said with a wry smile, shaking his head. “We have no choice but to form a marriage alliance with the York family. I will deal with Wellington and the Four Great Princes. You make a trip to Cedar Town and ask for Chief Tofwen’s opinion.”

“Good. I’ll go at once.” Overjoyed, Williams hurried toward the door.

Aerie Fortress unilaterally tearing up the betrothal with the Wellington family would cause severe turmoil in the political landscape of Gambis. The newly appointed Regent decided it was best to lie low for a while. He would reappear to clean up the mess after the old man Goron had dealt with the main trouble.

Just as he was about to leave, Marquess Golan called out to him again, “Williams.”

The Regent’s steps faltered. He turned his head and gave a strained smile. “Tutor, do you have any other instructions?”

Golan looked at that smile, so unique to the Augustes, remained silent for a moment, then waved his hand. “Go, and return soon.”

“Don’t worry, Tutor. I will definitely be back.”

Williams bowed deeply, then turned and stepped out of the room, gently pulling the door shut behind him. As he walked, the smile on his face gradually vanished, replaced by a heavy and resolute expression.

“Roland, are you planning to leave? Is that why you supported Sylvia’s marriage proposal?” Williams murmured to himself, then broke into a carefree smile.

“Go if you want to. Leave the family’s affairs to me. I look forward to the day our Auguste family has a second legendary figure.”

Chapter 434: A Show of Strength

At dawn, Victor opened his eyes right on time.

The luxurious, spacious bedroom was pitch-black and as cold as an icehouse. The cold air from outside seeped into the room through the fireplace chimney and the vents in the walls, making Victor shiver. He couldn’t help but burrow back into the fragrant quilt, pulling a warm, soft, and supple body into his arms.

Last night, Victor had discovered the gift Sylvia had so carefully prepared for him on her large bed. There were no candles lit in the bedroom, nor was the fireplace burning, but with his dim vision, Victor immediately recognized Trisley, curled up under a bearskin blanket.

Sylvia’s sworn female knight was the gift… or perhaps, he was the gift Sylvia had carefully prepared for Trisley.

None of that mattered.

As the commonly accepted theory among Knights went, extraordinary beings of the same kind were drawn to their opposite sex. A noble with a Moon Elf bloodline and a weak will had little resistance to a High-ranked Knight who was approaching perfection.

However, now that the sky was brightening, Victor decided to get up and begin his indispensable morning training.

“I never want you to serve me again…”

Trisley, her back to him, said in a soft, tiny voice, “Unless you agree to two conditions.”

“…” Victor said, feigning sorrow. “Me serving you? Darling, if only you’d be honest with me… Fine, name your conditions.”

“First, don’t let Nicole know.” Trisley’s voice was steady, but her heart was pounding like a drum.

Victor was struck speechless for a moment, then chuckled. He ventured, “I don’t think Nicole would mind.”

“I mind.”

The words, squeezed through Trisley’s gritted teeth, trembled with a murderous intent. Victor said decisively, “Alright! I promise I won’t tell Nicole.” He paused, then added weakly, “If she figures it out on her own… you can’t blame me. At least, not just me.”

Trisley remained silent, but her tense body clearly relaxed. Victor waited for a long while before asking proactively, “Darling, what’s your other request?” When Trisley gave no sign, he added in a gentle voice, “If you haven’t thought of the second condition yet, you can take your time. Just tell me when you’ve decided… Now, could you let go of my hand so I can go train?”

Just as Victor was about to get up, Trisley suddenly turned over, her long, limber leg hooking around her partner’s waist and abdomen.

“Have your eyes changed color?” Victor asked in surprise, gazing into Trisley’s shy eyes. Her emerald-green, cold eyes had turned a gentle, light blue.

Trisley’s face flushed. She lowered her head with a small smile, curling her entire body into Victor’s embrace, clinging to him without a word.

“You’re making me anxious! Trisley’s second condition is for you to skip your morning training today. She wants to be the first woman to make you stay in bed.”

With a startled “Ah!”, Trisley instantly shrank back under the bearskin blanket.

At some point, Sylvia had appeared, standing not far from the bed. With her hands on her slender hips and her head tilted, she watched Victor with a grin.

“My dear, you… when did you get back?” Victor asked, feeling guilty and flustered.

“I’ve been here the whole time.” Sylvia pouted her luscious red lips and, with her snowy feet bare, gracefully walked to the edge of the bed. She asked with a double meaning, “Darling, are you satisfied with the gift I prepared for you?”

“Satisfied…” Seeing Sylvia’s willow-like eyebrows begin to arch, Victor quickly tried to salvage the situation, “…but I would be even more satisfied if you were here too.”

“Is that so?” Sylvia’s lips curled into a smile, and she shot Victor a flirtatious look brimming with suspicion.

In the afternoon, Victor returned to the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence, full of vigor. He had used up two of his talent Activations, but everything had been so wonderful.

The Marquess’s estate was much quieter than the day before. Sophia’s personal guard and the estate’s knights were nowhere to be seen. The estate’s steward, Helen, told Victor that Sophia had taken them to the manor outside the city to arrange matters for her visit to the Dodor Kingdom and wouldn’t be back until evening.

Victor took advantage of this lull to summon Narsen to the study in the Marquess’s estate.

“My lord, you were looking for me?” Narsen wore an eager, excited expression, as if he knew a fight was coming.

Following his gaze, Victor saw the enormous, ferocious head of a saber-toothed beast mounted on the wall. He patted the armrest of the Moonlight Wood chair and asked with a smile, “Do you recognize this creature?”

“I’ve heard of them, but this is the first time I’ve seen one.” Narsen withdrew his gaze and said with a grin, “In the past, if the War Bear Mercenary Company had run into a monster like this, we would have been wiped out. Now, though, I’d really like to take one on.”

“The saber-toothed beast, also called a sabertooth tiger. It’s an incredibly terrifying and ferocious monster. They say an adult male can single-handedly wipe out a small Ogre tribe. And it’s true; when a saber-toothed beast is active in an Ogre’s territory, the Ogres will often choose to migrate.”

Victor’s tone shifted. “But to say that a saber-toothed beast is stronger than a berserk Ogre chief… I’m not so sure. It’s a natural-born master of tactics. An Ogre chief, to protect its tribe members, can only cede its territory. However, female saber-toothed beasts are generally stronger fighters than the males, yet they will mostly avoid Ogres, or end up as their prey.”

“To protect their cubs? They choose to fight the Ogres head-on?” Narsen’s eyes lit up as he pressed for an answer.

“Having a weakness exploited by an enemy is tantamount to giving up your life.” Victor nodded and said, “But no one can deny that a saber-toothed beast has the power to fight an Ogre chief head-on. And an Ogre chief can threaten a Silver Knight, while an Ogre Warlord from among them can even contend with a Gold Knight directly.”

“This was a berserk female protecting her cubs. When Sophia killed it head-on, she was only an initial-rank Knight,” Victor sighed with emotion.

Narsen praised her wholeheartedly, “His lady possesses unimaginable courage and strength.”

Victor was silent for a moment, then nodded. “Miracles are usually born from bursts of power in desperate situations, and Knights are perhaps the type of people most likely to create them. In that moment of life and death, Sophia stirred the Elemental Sea. The Elemental Sea’s blessing pushed her combat power to an extraordinary level, a level that even a peak Great Knight would have to shy away from. This saber-toothed beast witnessed the miracle of a Knight with its life.”

“I want you to go kill a Silver Knight now. Are you afraid?”

“Who?”

“The special envoy from the Dodor Kingdom, Earl Horra Ludwig.”

“Yes!” Narsen said without hesitation.

“I’m very satisfied with your attitude.” Victor asked with a smile, “Aren’t you going to ask why?”

Narsen scratched his head and grinned. “I just follow my lord’s orders.” After speaking, he quickly covered his mouth, afraid his master would see his newly grown front teeth.

Victor was in no mood to tease his most capable subordinate. He shook his head and said, “Many people are willing to offer me their loyalty with their lives, but I have high hopes for you. You’re different from Reno and the others. I hope you can learn to think for yourself and stand on your own two feet when I’m not able to act.”

“Narsen, only by knowing why we have to kill Horra can you decide how to do it and formulate a specific strategy.”

“My lord, I’m not very good at that… but I’m willing to learn.” Narsen shrugged and asked with a dry laugh, “My lord, why are we killing Horra?”

Victor let out a breath and said gravely, “To show the Marchioness Wimbledon the strength of the House of Randell.”

“Marchioness Wimbledon… Marchioness Wimbledon, isn’t she the lady of the House of Randell?” Narsen shook his head in confusion, then flew into a rage, roaring, “His lady is visiting Dodor, does that mean she’s accepted Horra’s courtship? My lord, don’t you worry, I’ll chop that scum into a pile of mangled flesh and bring his head back to you!”

Narsen beat his chest with a series of thumps, sending dust flying in all directions.

Victor didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “How could that be? It’s always the female knights who pursue me, alright… ahem, I’m getting sidetracked.” He cleared his throat and said seriously, “I’ve already given The Golden Company to Sophia.”

The Golden Company is an external extension of the House of Randell’s power. Besides its considerable commercial potential, it also serves military, intelligence, diplomatic, logistics, recruitment, and talent development functions. In Victor’s view, the value of The Golden Company far exceeded that of the Restoration Potion itself.

When he laid out his entire plan for The Golden Company, Sylvia and Sophia didn’t seem very enthusiastic, not even asking for details on how to build it.

Victor couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed that his masterpiece was unappreciated. But Sylvia showed him with her actions what it meant to take something seriously.

Sylvia spent the entire night deploying two development plans, one overt and one covert.

Overtly, she leveraged the Gold Potion and Sophia’s special background, intending to act before the Radiant Knights could gather intelligence and take countermeasures. Her plan was to ally with the Curia, Gambis, and the Kingdom of Borea to first stockpile a sufficient quantity of key medicinal ingredients, help Gambis establish a new merchant association, and secure the distribution rights for the Gold Potion’s raw materials.

Covertly, she would help Sophia secure her Marchioness title and secretly develop The Golden Company.

If Sylvia’s plan succeeded, the Centaur Hills would gain two trade routes, one overt and one covert; they would control the formulas for both the Gold Restoration Potion and the Aerie Fortress’s cleansing potion; with Anna on the throne as Queen, the York family’s containment of Gambis would be resolved, paving the way for the debut of the rock bricks; and the Centaur Hills’ direct connection to Sophia would be severed, which would help allay the Radiant Knights’ wariness of the York family, while also winning over the established powers in the Randell Fief.

To achieve her ultimate goal, she didn’t hesitate to offend the Dodor Royal Family, preparing to assassinate the Golden Dawn Sparrow Earl and even forcing Auguste to marry Angelina as his Queen. The Wellington family also became a sacrifice for this plan.

Sylvia moved with grand, sweeping ambition, turning tides with a flick of her wrist, stirring up a political storm that would affect several kingdoms overnight. In comparison, Victor’s methods of roping in mountain folk and roving bandits and suppressing ruffians and gangs seemed like child’s play, not even worth mentioning.

Undeniably, all of this was the result of Victor’s secret guidance. But Sylvia warned him not to interfere with the formation of The Golden Company. Sophia would enjoy the process of building it, which was very important for her path as a Knight.

Her exact words were: “Don’t ask for a gift back once you’ve given it. If you’re not careful, you might end up as enemies with Sophia.”

In truth, with Sophia’s connections, title, resources, and wealth, it would be more than ten times easier for her to form The Golden Company than it was for Victor.

The Golden Company had changed hands. Sylvia contributed the effort, Sophia contributed the people and money, and Victor had merely come up with the idea.

Victor had gone from being the one in control to a minority shareholder. All his initial hard work was for naught—how could he be content with that? And how could the status of a minority shareholder befit the Scion of the Alchemical Empire? Victor felt it was necessary to show his two women some muscle.

Narsen, not understanding the reasoning, asked with a confused look, “My lord, isn’t Sophia the lady of the Randall family? We’re on the same side.”

“Yes, she is the lady of the House of Randell. She’s also Marchioness Wimbledon, with five Knights, fourteen powerful barbarian followers, seventeen apprentice knights, over six hundred elite soldiers, and thousands of mercenaries and gang enforcers under her command. Tens of thousands of people make a living in her name at the Wimbledon Merchant Association.”

Victor spread his hands. “Do you understand? She can form The Golden Company without using anyone from the House of Randell. And once she does, our smuggling caravan, our mountain folk strongholds, and our Black Market merchants will all have to be disbanded. Because she can invest in public carriages and directly win over priests and minor lords. She looks down on the small achievements we’ve made.”

“Th-that can’t happen!” Narsen was deeply troubled. He couldn’t act against his own lady, and even if he did, he couldn’t win.

Victor said with a smile, “Sophia has run into a problem.”

“Horra Ludwig!” A vicious light gleamed in Narsen’s eyes. He clenched his fists so hard the air crackled around them. He had finally found an outlet for his frustration.

Victor said, “We need to let Sophia know the strength of the House of Randell!”

“I understand!” Narsen replied loudly. “It’s like when several mercenary companies divide up a mission and the bounty—the bigger your fist, the bigger your share!”

“Exactly.” Victor laughed heartily, tapping the Moonlight Wood desk and shaking his head. “Sophia has better trade routes; she has no use for the mountain folk’s small paths. But I won’t give up the mountain strongholds and the freemen camps. That’s why I’ve secured this opportunity… You will go and eliminate Horra, display the combat strength of the smuggling caravan, and only then can we control the military power of The Golden Company. Then, using its wealth and trade routes, we can win over more mountain folk hunters and develop an armed force loyal to the House of Randell.”

“To put it simply, my wife will handle the money-making, and I will command more sources of troops and train more warriors!”

Sophia’s biggest problem is the constant corrosion of her soul by the Elemental Sea; she is in perpetual danger of perishing. Victor doesn’t want Sophia to perish, but he has to consider the possibility. If Sophia were to reach the Gold rank, she would care even less about the House of Randell’s overt strength. If she were to unfortunately perish, many factions would vie for control of The Golden Company. In either scenario, as long as Victor lays the groundwork for The Golden Company’s military power ahead of time, he won’t be completely helpless when the situation develops.

Victor paused for a few seconds, then said pensively, “I will make adjustments to the subsequent plans… The most urgent task now is to fight a magnificent battle.”

“Now, let’s talk about Horra Ludwig’s true strength.”

Chapter 435: Semi-elementalization

“An initial-rank Knight who can resonate with twelve Elemental Nodes will possess five times the strength of an ordinary soldier once they circulate their Aura, and they achieve unity of mind and body, have swift reactions, are adept at controlling their emotions, and can exert their strength to its absolute limit. In fact, strength and skill at the level of an initial-rank Knight are enough to harm any living creature… A senior knight who can resonate with twenty-four Elemental Nodes has twice the strength of an initial-rank Knight. Their Physique, endurance, reaction speed, and Perception far surpass those of an initial-rank Knight.”

Victor sighed. “Knights are truly the darlings of the Elemental Sea.”

“But they are not invincible.”

Narsen’s gaze was profound as he said, “Anyone who makes a move will produce a result, and Knights are no exception. For example, if you block, you can’t slash. If you slash, you can’t thrust. If you stab the heart, you can’t stab the eyes. The different choices made by opposing sides determine their respective victory or defeat. And victory and defeat are often decided in an instant. Though I am not a Knight, I was born knowing how to strike and when to strike. It’s like when the War Bear Mercenary Company encountered that Sasan knight on the Warton Great Plains. When faced with his Leaping Slash, I didn’t even think, I just charged forward and cut him down. In hindsight, I admit that if I had waited for him to land, I would have been no match for him.”

“Oh?”

Victor looked Narsen up and down, saying in surprise, “You sound like a scholar or a master now.”

Narsen chuckled. “Tournans said those first few sentences. He also said that a Knight’s fire of the mind focuses on balance and control, while my fire of the mind leans toward combat intuition. As for who is stronger, you only know after a fight. In any case, with my current strength, I can definitely threaten a Silver Knight.”

“Combat intuition… It has a hint of prediction to it. It’s said that a barbarian Berserker once killed a Gold Knight relying on combat intuition. It is clearly an extraordinary talent.” Victor nodded, then warned gravely, “But you must not be careless. Intuition can be wrong, especially when facing an unknown enemy.”

Victor stood up, clasped his hands behind his back, and paced a few steps in the middle of the study. His expression was serious as he said, “You can’t even imagine how powerful an Extraordinary Knight is.”

Narsen was Victor’s top general and held a pivotal position in the Randall family. If Narsen were to die in battle, Victor’s military and political structure would suffer a major blow. But in this world, the human kingdoms built their armies around Knights, forming a unique military culture that promoted the martial spirit of Knighthood to inspire the soldiers’ morale. Even the King of Gambis had died on the battlefield, and even Sylvia had to personally take the field to exterminate the Ant-men. As the military leader of the Randall family, Narsen had no room to retreat or evade battle.

Although one raises an army for a thousand days to use it in a single moment, Victor still hoped to minimize the danger. A leader would not normally reveal the secrets of Extraordinary Knights to an ordinary person, and Tournans hadn’t shared such information with Narsen, but Victor couldn’t be bothered with that now.

“The more Elemental Nodes a Knight resonates with, the stronger they become, but a Silver Knight’s greatest advantage lies in manifesting void elements.”

Victor paused, then frowned and said, “There are two ways a Silver Knight uses void elements. The first is to release them externally, forming elemental force field domains of varying sizes. In this state, the Silver Knight’s strength and Physique decrease, while their agility and speed increase; their Perception remains unchanged. Anyone or anything that enters the force field will be affected by additional gravity, ranging from one to several pounds. The more condensed the force field, the stronger the gravitational effect. This means an enemy’s weapon or arrow is weighed down, losing accuracy and speed. A physically weaker enemy might even feel their chest tighten and find it hard to breathe. A Silver Knight can also suddenly double the gravitational effect, causing a close-combat opponent’s movements to distort and create an opening. Such an opening is certainly fatal.”

“So, for fighting many enemies at once?” Narsen said with sudden understanding. “No wonder Austin Briart killed our Elite Guards as easily as slaughtering chickens back then. I was wondering why their movements were so badly distorted. It turns out they were affected by the void earth element.”

Victor nodded and continued, “The other way of using the void earth element is the complete opposite of a force field domain. It’s purely for breaking through tough defenses.”

“A Silver Knight condenses the void elements within their body. Their strength, speed, and Perception increase explosively, while their agility remains unchanged. Their Physique and bones become incredibly tough—truly as hard as rock…” Victor fell silent for a moment, then said with considerable jealousy, “And they can still maintain enough dexterity to fully utilize all their power.”

“If they are equipped with Mithril armor and a longsword, the void elements can also strengthen the equipment, giving it a durability surpassing Adamantine. At the same time, it will be coated with an elemental barrier that can inflict at least a hundred pounds of concussive damage.” Victor looked up at Narsen and said, “Fortunately, Austin didn’t have Mithril equipment back then and could only use most of his power… Of course, even if he had a full set of Mithril gear, it wouldn’t have been hard for me to kill him, but you would have been in danger.”

Narsen’s eyes gleamed as he said, “My lord, I’m not the same man I was. Even if he were actually made of iron, I’m confident I could take him down!”

“It’s not that simple.” Victor shook his head. “After a Silver Knight internalizes void elements, their body takes on the extraordinary characteristic of semi-elementalization, leaving them with almost no weaknesses.”

Narsen asked with a face full of curiosity, “What’s semi-elementalization?”

Victor chuckled lightly. “An arm can be cut off without bleeding… or maybe just a little. Reattach it, and they can continue fighting immediately. A ruptured organ or shattered bones don’t matter… As long as the void elements are still circulating, no injury will affect an Extraordinary Knight’s combat effectiveness.”

Narsen’s eyes went wide. He stammered, “Th-then… even if their intestines spill out, it won’t affect the fight?”

“If they don’t even bleed, will their intestines spill out?” Victor shot him a look. “Even if they do, just stuff them back in. If that doesn’t work, just leave them. It won’t have any effect anyway.”

“Is… is that still human?” Narsen muttered to himself.

“Why else would they be called Extraordinary Knights?”

Victor sighed. “Extraordinary Knights aren’t mortals to begin with… The semi-elemental state is not a body of pure flesh and blood. They can temporarily become immune to most damage.”

“That sounds incredible…” Narsen said, not without a trace of envy.

Victor also envied the powerful effects of semi-elementalization, but Extraordinary Knights were even more envious of Moon Elves.

Moon Elves could condense void wind elements and absorb void water elements just through their bloodline talent. They were exceptionally powerful, eternally youthful, and had lifespans of at least two hundred years. In contrast, High-ranked Knights constantly endured the erosion and assimilation of the Elemental Sea, allowing them to live up to one hundred and sixty years at most, and they also experienced emotional apathy.

No one was willing to give up the joys of life in the pursuit of power. Semi-elementalization accelerated the Elemental Sea’s erosion of a Knight’s soul. For a High-ranked Knight, great power represented a great burden.

“Then what about elementalization?” Narsen pressed.

Victor gathered his thoughts and said expressionlessly, “Annihilation. The entire person turns into void elements and returns to the world’s origin.”

“Unaffected, ignores damage… How are you supposed to fight that?” Narsen scratched the back of his head, lost in thought.

“Extraordinary Knights are not invincible.” Victor made a slicing motion across his neck. “If a Knight suffers a severe blow to the head, they can’t circulate their Aura, the Elemental Nodes stop resonating, and the semi-elemental state is immediately cancelled.”

“Also, void elements will spontaneously repair physical damage, but they aren’t very good at it. The more grievous the injuries an Extraordinary Knight sustains, the faster their Aura is consumed. Once their Aura is depleted, they’ll die if they were meant to die, or be crippled if they were meant to be crippled. Even if they don’t die, they’ll be half-dead.”

“During the Silver Age, Extraordinary Knights always charged into the fray, only to return covered in wounds to find a priest. In the end, the Knights didn’t die, but the priests were worked to death first. It was from that time on that Knights and clergy formed a relationship of life and death.” Victor shook his head and chuckled. “I’ve heard that a level four Paladin can heal themself once every half-day. Before their divine arts are used up, even a Gold Knight cannot defeat a Silver-rank Paladin.”

“Horace is not a Paladin, nor is he even a Silver Knight. However, he could step into the Silver realm at any moment and give you a surprise. As for how many Elemental Nodes he can break through to, that depends on his accumulation.” Victor continued, “Also, as a scion of House Ludwig, he definitely has Mithril equipment. You must be careful of this.”

Narsen nodded, saying worriedly, “I’m only worried that he might have a priest with him…”

“A priest? There won’t be one, at least not accompanying Earl Horace in DeWeimik’s territory.” Victor smiled silently. “Sophia is visiting Dodor with Raegzo and two barbarian Weapon Masters. They will pass through Stonetooth City, where the local Bishop will gather all the clergy to keep an eye on Sophia… After all, if Raegzo goes on a rampage, not even House DeWeimik’s Extraordinary Knights could stop him. Compared to Earl Horace’s safety, the High-ranked Knights of House DeWeimik need the clergy’s support more.”

The Church not sending a priest to escort Horace was actually a tacit understanding reached between Sylvia and the Pope. There was no need for me to mention the details behind it. Victor changed the subject. “Horace won’t have a priest, but he will certainly have extraordinary-class healing potions… I have prepared even better Regeneration Potions for you, as well as Bloodboil Potions.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Narsen bowed, then asked hesitantly, “What if… what if that Horace fellow travels with his lady?”

“Then it’s none of our business,” Victor sneered. “He would be killed for attempting to offend the Marchioness of Wimbledon… I don’t think many nobles are willing to provoke a strange peak Silver Knight, especially when she has a barbarian Berserker by her side.” He paused, then added, “Sophia and Raegzo are leading a large caravan, which is enough to tie up Stonetooth City’s High-ranked Knights and main legion. According to noble etiquette, the guards arranged by a host for a guest cannot outnumber the guest’s own retinue, otherwise it would be suspected as coercion. Horace’s men include two Knights, four apprentice knights, one hundred elite cavalry, and dozens of servants. With the addition of House DeWeimik’s guards, their forces can at most double.”

“Baritt’s Bear Company is stationed in the mountains of Redleaf Town. They have over one thousand men in total, including more than three hundred elite death commandos, one hundred and seventeen Elite Guards, and over two hundred mountain folk hunters and wandering mercenaries. The rest are women and children. In addition, the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild has secretly mobilized over two hundred Elite Soldiers, three Knights, and six apprentice knights. Lady Trisley…” A gentle smile touched the corners of Victor’s mouth as he looked down and said, “She will lead five Rose Knights and twenty-six Mystic Warriors to coordinate with your operation.

“If we can’t take down Horra Ludwig with this much power, then I’ll be damned.” Narsen struck his fist into his palm, speaking excitedly.

“It’s not as easy as you think.” Victor shook his head. “To make a show of our strength, we can’t have Trisley strike first. You can only mobilize the men from The Bear Company and the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild, and you must also take care to conceal the identities of the family’s death commandos and Elite Guards… You may not be able to use your full strength.”

“Then we might as well do it ourselves…” Narsen said, frustrated.

“Who’s to say we shouldn’t.” Victor sighed. “I grant you the authority to make decisions on the spot and I guarantee Trisley will not interfere with your operational plans. But I must set a few principles for you. First, do your best to protect yourself; do not force things. Second, eliminating Earl Horace is the sole objective. There should be no needless slaughter, but you don’t need to be timid either. Third, arrange a retreat route in advance to guard against pursuit and retaliation from House DeWeimik.”

“My lord. Narsen Randall, Commander of the First Legion, obeys your command!” Narsen struck his right breast with his fist in a military salute, took a step forward, and asked eagerly, “When do I depart?”

“Tonight. Choose a few of your Personal Guard to set out with the Rose Knights.”

“Can I bring Aka? That guy needs to see some blood,” Narsen asked.

Victor thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No, Aka’s size is too conspicuous. He looks like a barbarian…” As he spoke, he turned his gaze to the study door.

The sound of high heels clicking on the floor came from the corridor. A moment later, Sophia, leading Anna, pushed open the door and walked in.

She was dressed in well-fitting women’s hunting attire and high-heeled leather boots, which accentuated her perfect figure. The faint melancholy that had clouded her brow was swept away, replaced by a vibrant, heroic spirit. She was like the rising sun, radiant and dazzlingly bright.

“Narsen greets his lady,” Narsen said, stepping forward to bow.

“Lord Narsen, there’s no need for such ceremony.” Sophia gave him an appreciative glance, then her amethyst-like eyes turned to Victor. She said with a charming laugh, “My dear, you’re finally back.”

Before Victor could reply, Anna chirped merrily, “My lord, I want to go to the barbarians’ homeland with my Tutor!”

Victor’s gaze hardened as he looked at his wife. Sophia explained, “I plan to take Anna out to see the world…”

“Absolutely not!” Victor interrupted her, his face stern.

Sophia said, somewhat displeased, “How can a Knight raised in a greenhouse ever achieve anything? I am Anna’s Tutor. I am responsible for her.”

“You don’t get a say.” Anna gloated, pulling a face at Victor before smugly hugging Sophia’s arm.

This was what was unlikable about Sophia. She was too headstrong. How could she not know to give her husband face? She really needed to be taught a lesson… Victor tore his gaze away from his wife’s enchanting figure and turned to Anna. “You’re not going anywhere either. Lady Sylvia has ordered you back to the Duke’s mansion… From now on, you may have to live in the royal palace forever.”

Anna’s mouth hung open, and it took her a long moment to process what he’d said. She cupped her blushing cheeks and turned to run out.

Victor shook his head and ordered, “Narsen, take a few men and escort Miss Anna back to the Duke’s mansion. Be sure to protect her well. Anything can happen at a time like this.”

“As you wish, my lord.” Narsen strode out after her.

Sophia wore a look of utter shock. Composing herself, she asked, “My dear, are you saying… Anna is to marry the King?”

Victor returned to his seat and gave a faint sound of affirmation.

Sophia’s eyes darted about. She closed the study door, sat on her husband’s lap, and wiggled her ample hips. Her eyes were seductive as she asked, “My dear, you haven’t had dinner yet, have you? Would you like to have the main course, or a light meal in the bedroom?”

Victor confirmed that the Activation of his talent was ready and nodded. “A light meal in the bedroom, of course.”

“Alright. I’ll go get Natalya. My dear, we’ll be waiting for you in the bedroom.” Sophia gave a beautiful smile, pecked her husband lightly on the lips, and rose gracefully, leaving the study.

Sophia and Natalya would be visiting Halotes Fortress, and it would be at least a year before they returned to Blinor City. By the time they came back, Victor would have long since left the Royal Capital. In the future, Victor and Sophia would each have their own endeavors, and they might not even see each other more than a few times a year.

All three of them cherished their reunion this night, but for the great nobles of Blinor City, this night was the beginning of a political storm in Gambis.

Chapter 436: The Royal Family and the Queen’s Family

In the study of Marquess Golan’s residence.

“Either you kill me, or you give me an explanation!”

Duke Wellington sat in his chair, staring across the desk with a murderous gaze at the Protector of the Kingdom, his voice laced with malice.

The previous night, Golan, Roland, and Williams had resolved to push forward the marriage alliance between the Auguste and York families. However, a sudden new betrothal for the Royal Family had wide-reaching implications. Ideally, they would need two to three years to lay the groundwork, preserve the royal authority and dignity, balance the various powers, and minimize the negative impact of breaking the promise. But Sylvia had only given Aerie Fortress ten days.

Such a short time was not even enough for a fever to break on its own. Faced with the impending political tsunami, the new Regent had fled overnight, and Princess Royal Roland had shut herself away, leaving Marquess Golan to bear all the pressure alone.

As the backbone of the Kingdom of Gambia, Golan Auguste had never lacked the ability or the will to turn the tide, and he took great pride and satisfaction in it.

That morning, in his capacity as Minister of Military Affairs, Marquess Golan had urgently summoned the High-ranked Knight Guardians of the Four Great Princes for a brief, closed-door meeting. After the meeting, Marquess Golan invited Duchess Therall Wellington for an outing in the countryside, while the High-ranked Knights of the Four Great Princes returned to their family residences as if nothing had happened to hold one-on-one secret talks with their family leaders.

No one dared to probe into the contents of a military conference personally chaired by Marquess Golan, and few knew that the calm surface of Blinor City concealed a surging undercurrent.

No Knight could resist the temptation of a Gold Restoration Potion. For apprentice knights and Bronze Knights, it represented the hope of promotion; for High-ranked Knights who had achieved Semi-elementalization, it represented power and life. Marquess Golan had disclosed the matter of the Gold Restoration Potion to the High-ranked Knights of the Four Great Princes and to Therall, immediately winning their support. But the real trouble was just beginning.

The Gold Restoration Potion was a top-tier extraordinary potion, one of immense significance to the Kingdom of Gambia. But the rarity of extraordinary potions meant that the quantity could never satisfy the appetite of all the knightly families. Before the Radiant Knights obtained this intelligence, Aerie Fortress had to stockpile as many raw materials as possible and strive to secure the trade distribution rights for Arreat’s medicinal herbs.

Secrecy became the crucial prerequisite for Gambia’s plans regarding the Gold Restoration Potion. Sylvia had demanded that Sophia take the initiative to reconcile with the Kingdom of Borea precisely because she feared the Boreans would leak the secret of the Gold Restoration Potion. Since Aerie Fortress could not make the matter public, the Royal Family owed the lords of Gambia an explanation.

Aerie Fortress’s unilateral betrayal of the betrothal severely damaged the reputations of the Auguste and Wellington families. Duchess Wellington had cried and thrown a tantrum until Marquess Golan promised that the Wellington family’s share of the medicinal herbs would be second only to the York family’s, at which point her tears turned to joy. Golan was well aware that placating his lover did not mean the Wellington family would let the matter rest.

As Golan expected, Duke Wellington came calling that very evening.

The person Golan least wanted to face was Duke Wellington. This was not because Therall was Duke Wellington’s wife; in fact, after Therall’s promotion to Silver Knight, the vast difference in their level of life had automatically dissolved their spousal relationship. Therall saw Marquess Golan’s concession as a lover’s apology; aside from expressing her joy, she had offered no promises. Duke Wellington, on the other hand, was representing the entire bloc of south-central lords, and he needed a reasonable explanation from Aerie Fortress.

Duke Wellington’s hair was a mess, his eyes were bloodshot, and he spoke as if his life depended on it. His expression was one of absolute grief and desperation, completely devoid of the wisdom and elegance befitting a great scholar and a high noble. He looked more like a street ruffian.

When a duke played the ruffian, he could not be brushed aside with one or two Gold Sols.

And who didn’t know how to play the ruffian?

“You’ve put root juice in your eyes, doesn’t it sting?” Marquess Golan said, rolling his eyes. “State your terms, whatever they are. Then, you can help me come up with an explanation.”

“It does sting,” Duke Wellington said, taking out a damp silk handkerchief to wipe his eyes. “But it doesn’t matter if I sting a little. The honor of Aerie Fortress and the Wellington family cannot be disregarded.”

“During my studies at the Silver Spire, the first task my Tutor assigned me was to observe a wolf pack,” Duke Wellington said, tossing the handkerchief aside. “I discovered that the wolf king is the strongest and healthiest male in the pack. To maintain its strength and health, it always eats first, monopolizing the most nutritious parts of the prey. But these methods alone are not enough for the wolf king to resist aging. So, it selects several strong female wolves from the pack as mates. The alpha female eats second, followed by the other females, who eat in an order set by the wolf king and the alpha female. Last are the other males in the pack. If the male wolves don’t get enough to eat, they naturally cannot challenge the pack’s order. The wolf king will also lead its mates to drive any threatening males out of the pack. If the alpha female becomes old or disabled, the wolf king implicitly allows other females to replace her. The method for this is also demonstrated in the feeding order. The old alpha female is quickly pushed out of the second group to eat, because the other pack members all want to eat their fill. They will use their fangs to make the old alpha female understand her current status, while also currying favor with the new one.”

“I came to a conclusion: the secret to the wolf king’s enduring strength lies in its wisdom, not its fangs and claws,” Duke Wellington said with a sigh. “Humans are not wolves. We are not only more intelligent, but we also possess noble character. For a thousand years, the Wellington family has offered its loyalty to the Auguste family.”

“The Auguste family has never questioned the loyalty of the Wellington family. What about the future?” Golan asked in a deep voice.

“That won’t change in the future either!”

Duke Wellington paused, his expression complicated. “But I have to wonder, how much support can a weakened Wellington family offer the Augustes?”

Marquess Golan was silent for a long moment before shaking his head. “The Auguste family will not allow such a thing to happen.”

“I believe you,” Duke Wellington said with a nod. “Therall told me not to ask why… and I didn’t. This afternoon, the four marquesses of the Royal Capital paid a joint visit to the Wellington residence. They hoped the Wellington family would take the lead in pressuring Aerie Fortress… I did not agree. I trust in the wisdom of our Family Guardian, I trust in the character of His Highness Golan, and I trust even more in the ancient alliance forged between the Auguste and Wellington families.”

“But how am I to explain this to the members of the Wellington family, to the seven lordly families of the south-central region? Am I to tell them that Aerie Fortress betrayed the Wellington family because it was pressured by a Spirit Knight?”

Duke Wellington spoke with great anguish, “Your Highness, a marriage alliance between Aerie Fortress and the York family is the worst possible choice! You should be well aware that a Spirit Knight will never be content to be subordinate, and under her leadership, the York family will have no other choice. Sylvia proposed a marriage alliance with Aerie Fortress, and her methods seem gentle, but that is only because she can now forge a Silver Bloodline for the York family. If she did not have Viscount Randell, you would see the radical side of a Spirit Knight, and the York family’s expansion would be unstoppable.”

“I would rather the second scenario occurred. Without a mainstream bloodline, no matter how much the York family expands, they would eventually have to spit out everything they swallowed,” Duke Wellington said, shaking his head with a sigh. “But if the York family gains a Silver Bloodline, they will have the foundation to break away from Aerie Fortress. If the York family established a Dukedom, that would be acceptable. But now, they are also the Queen’s family. It would be perfectly reasonable for the various lords of Gambia to flock to the Queen’s family. If this continues, the York family won’t be establishing a Dukedom, but a kingdom.”

Marquess Golan gave him a faint look and said, “I’m not using my Spirit to pressure you, so don’t you try to probe me… Just say it, what have you figured out?”

Duke Wellington smiled and nodded. “Aerie Fortress must have prepared for any problem I can think of. For Aerie Fortress to be willing to break its promise to form an alliance with the York family, besides the irresistible terms offered by Her Highness Sylvia… I believe you have a backup plan.”

“If I’m not mistaken, Victor is Aerie Fortress’s backup plan,” Duke Wellington said, his gaze burning.

Marquess Golan remained noncommittal. “The Night Owl’s spies report that you’ve been paying particularly close attention to Viscount Randell’s administrative policies. It seems you’ve studied him quite a bit.”

“The history of the Wellington family can be traced back to the early days of the Randt Empire. Even before the Auguste family appeared, the Wellington family began collecting information on Spirit Knights and Sun Elves,” Duke Wellington continued. “A Spirit Knight’s level of life is too high. Aside from a Sun Elf, no one can allow a Spirit Knight to propagate their bloodline. A noble with a Moon Elf bloodline is certainly no exception… You sent Victor to the Centaur Hills mainly to placate Sylvia’s emotions and moderate the York family’s foreign policy. Viscount Randell is young and exceptionally talented; he must be the product of Aerie Fortress’s careful cultivation. All his administrative measures point towards cooperation and mutual benefit, not confrontation and hostility, which has subtly influenced Sylvia’s attitude towards the Royal Family. But you never expected that Victor’s Moon Elf bloodline would be purified.”

“I don’t know if Victor can evolve into a Sun Elf. But in this Era of the Chosen, Moon Elf nobles belong to an ancient Gold Bloodline. Their first-generation descendants are not affected by the maternal bloodline; they are destined to be Gold-rank Gale Knights.”

Duke Wellington shook his head and chuckled. “A Gold Bloodline can sustain an empire, and an empire can accommodate two or more Gold Bloodline families. The Auguste and York families marrying for generations—one the Royal Family, the other the Queen’s family—is a perfect arrangement. How could Aerie Fortress refuse when Sylvia proposed the marriage alliance? As long as the future political structure of the empire is stable, what’s the sacrifice of a single Wellington family?”

“How presumptuous!” Marquess Golan said coldly.

“For an affair of this magnitude, it’s normal for a few high nobles to die,” Duke Wellington said, raising his left hand. “Before I came, I gave the divine arts ring bestowed by the Pope to Therall. I now place my life in Your Highness’s hands, and I only hope you will allow me to finish what I have to say.”

Marquess Golan looked speechlessly at Duke Wellington as he continued, “Sword Saint Draven’s level of life reached the Saint realm; only a Gold Knight could conceive his bloodline. Therefore, in its golden age, the Iron Mountain Empire had four Gold Bloodlines and one legendary bloodline. Today, the Iron Mountain Empire’s royal family’s legendary bloodline has degenerated into a Gold Bloodline, and those four Gold Bloodlines have degenerated into Silver Bloodlines, yet they have always served the Baselius family.”

“That being the case, why can’t the Wellington family serve the Auguste Royal Family as a Gold Bloodline?” Duke Wellington asked sincerely.

Marquess Golan shook his head, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. “Have you not considered Victor’s own will? Never mind that he has yet to reach the apex of the Moon Elf bloodline; even if his bloodline purification process completely stabilizes, do you think you can make a Gold-rank Wind Walk Archer bend to your will? Even Sylvia can’t do that…”

“For Margaret, I must try!”

Duke Wellington shot to his feet, speaking with fury. “Margaret is of your blood. But I am her father! I taught her to speak, to write, to ride a horse, and it was I who sent her to Aerie Fortress… She must reach the Silver-rank to secure her footing in Aerie Fortress. She has made no mistakes, yet now she is betrayed by the Auguste family! What about her honor? What about her path as a Knight?”

Marquess Golan said with a wry smile, “It’s not that we’re abandoning Margaret… The Auguste family will select a descendant with an excellent bloodline to be fostered by her.”

Duke Wellington snorted coldly. “No one understands Margaret better than I do. She has had a cold and proud temperament since she was a child. She should experience love, marriage, family, and childbirth before advancing to the Silver-rank. Aerie Fortress unilaterally breaking the betrothal will hurt her too deeply. I worry she will resort to extremes, prematurely resonating with thirty-six Elemental Nodes and charging into the Gold realm to wash away her shame.”

“Then what do you propose?” Marquess Golan asked, a headache forming.

“It wasn’t Aerie Fortress that abandoned Margaret, but Margaret who looked down on His Majesty Edward.”

“Excellent idea!” Marquess Golan’s eyes lit up, his interest piqued. “Explain in detail.”

“Here’s how it would go…”

Duke Wellington explained his plan in detail, and Marquess Golan nodded repeatedly as he listened. At the end, Duke Wellington summarized, “If Margaret takes the initiative to annul the marriage, it will preserve both Aerie Fortress’s honor and her own pride. I will grant Margaret the territory near Wildwillow City, and I will also give her all the Wellington family’s businesses in Wildwillow City… As for whether Margaret is willing to pursue Viscount Randell? Whatever the final outcome may be, I will not force her.”

Marquess Golan nodded. “In that case, we won’t need to provide an Auguste foster child, will we?”

“How could that be acceptable?!” Duke Wellington quickly retorted. “The Royal Family has broken its word, and the Wellington family is taking all the blame. How could one Auguste descendant be enough to compensate for the Wellington family’s sacrifice? We need at least two, a boy and a girl.”

Marquess Golan shook his head. “Only one… Will you have the boy, or the girl?”

Duke Wellington thought for a moment, then decided to arrange another fallback for Margaret, clenching his jaw as he said, “A boy… no older than ten, with no fewer than eight resonated Elemental Nodes.”

Duke Wellington’s proposal had solved Aerie Fortress’s biggest problem. Marquess Golan’s mood improved immensely, and he said with a smile, “On behalf of the Royal Family, I accept the Wellington family’s request. You may go back and put on your divine arts ring now.”

“Then I shall take my leave.” Duke Wellington straightened his clothes and hair, gave an elegant bow, and turned to leave Marquess Golan’s study.

The sound of Duke Wellington’s footsteps faded into the distance. Golan flicked a small gold bell on his desk with his finger. Before long, an elderly noble with a full head of white hair and a vigorous spirit pushed open the door and walked to the desk.

Marquess Golan laughed heartily and asked, “Marquess Bastern, you heard my conversation with Wellington just now, didn’t you? Now, do you still oppose the marriage alliance between Aerie Fortress and the York family?”

“The Royal Family? The Queen’s family? Heh, Duke Wellington is worthy of being the late King’s chief advisor. I don’t see things as clearly as he does.”

The Grand Vizier of the Kingdom of Gambia shook his head with a wry smile, sat down in the seat Duke Wellington had just vacated, and let out a long sigh. “After hearing Duke Wellington’s words, I now also support a marriage alliance between the Royal Family and the York family… But I must still oppose Sylvia’s marriage proposal.”

Chapter 437: Support and Opposition

The old man’s silver hair was combed immaculately. His back was straight, his lips pressed into a firm line, and his slightly clouded eyes revealed an unshakeable resolve.

Marquess Bastern had served as the Grand Vizier for over thirty years, known for his gentle temperament, wisdom, prudence, diligence, and loyalty. The nobles of the Royal Capital privately called him the “good-tempered Grand Vizier,” a jab at his worldly-wise and sleek manner, suggesting he only knew how to curry favor with the King and lacked his own political principles. When King Ryan fell in battle in the three eastern provinces, some nobles in the Royal Capital openly accused Bastern of failing in his duty as a vassal to provide counsel, demanding that the Grand Vizier resign to take responsibility. It was only after Marquess Golan, the Protector of the Kingdom, and Princess Royal Roland jointly visited the Marquess’s estate and invited the Queen and the Grand Duke to attend a banquet hosted by the Bastern family that the slander against the Grand Vizier within noble circles subsided. Bastern lived up to expectations, containing the conflict between the Queen and the Grand Duke to a relatively small scale, preventing it from affecting the Imperial Guard and the regional lords, thereby ensuring the normal operation of the Kingdom of Gambia.

Marquess Golan had never seen Bastern so much as raise his voice at anyone, but at this moment, he saw in the old Grand Vizier’s eyes a determination to make any sacrifice.

“You support Aerie Fortress marrying a noblewoman from the York family and oppose Sylvia’s marriage alliance proposal? You are challenging the majesty of a Spirit Knight…” Marquess Golan lowered his gaze and asked gravely, “Your reasons?”

“My lord, how long have we known each other?”

Marquess Golan thought for a moment, then shook his head. “I can’t quite recall… It must be at least seventy years.”

“Seventy-four years. The first time I saw you, I had just turned ten. The old King was holding a banquet at Aerie Fortress to celebrate His Majesty Ryan’s birth. You, as an attendant knight of the court, were providing deferential service to the guests. You even carved a slice of roast venison for me.”

Marquess Golan asked in surprise, “You can remember that?”

“How could I possibly remember… I looked through the family’s daily records.” Bastern leaned back in his chair and smiled slyly, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepening. He said with a sense of nostalgia, “Time flies… I’m already eighty-four without even realizing it. This morning, my cousin Edur ran over to see me, telling me that Aerie Fortress was going to form a marriage alliance with the York family and that I shouldn’t oppose it… Damn it all, he looks younger than my eldest grandson. I used to hold him when he needed to pee when he was little, and now he won’t even bother to give me a proper explanation… How could I let him off so easily? When I pressed him, he finally said impatiently that this was your decision.”

Marquess Golan nodded. “There are some things that are not suitable for too many people to know at present.”

“I understand… Is it related to the north-south expansion strategy?” Bastern ventured, and seeing Golan’s expression remain unchanged, he continued on his own, “Sylvia has given us too little time. This happens to coincide with His Holiness the Pope’s itinerary… It’s obvious that the marriage alliance between Aerie Fortress and the York family is a show of determination to the Pope. The Curia has always maintained a neutral stance. If it weren’t for the imbalance of power between the Sasan Empire and our southern lords, neither you nor Sylvia would be in such a hurry to win the Curia’s support.”

Marquess Golan said pensively, “Since you’ve figured it all out, I don’t wish to hide it from you… But I cannot disclose the specific details. You are not a High-ranked Knight, after all. If this were to leak, we would be in a very passive position… If we don’t take such measures, the Kingdom of Borea is very likely to completely side with the Radiant Knights. Gambia would be left in an isolated and helpless predicament. Even if we were to compromise with the Radiant Knights, we would only be at the bottom of the pecking order.”

“When you get old, you’re bound to talk in your sleep now and then,” Bastern said with a self-deprecating shake of his head. His expression then turned serious as he met Golan’s imposing eyes. “Your Highness doesn’t need to explain to me. In fact, once Edur told me the marriage alliance was your decision, I no longer had any worries.”

“Duke Wellington trusts his Family Guardian, so of course, I trust the Protector of the Kingdom.” Bastern paused, then continued, “If this were the decision of His Highness Roland and His Highness Williams, that would be another matter entirely.”

“His Highness Williams just walked away and left this mess for you… He truly is a Regent of the Auguste family.”

Marquess Golan said, “I was the one who had him step aside. A new Regent must first establish his authority.”

“I should have known.” Bastern chuckled, then nodded. “You’re like the Auguste family’s guardian lion, protecting Williams, Roland, and Edward all too well.”

“It is my knight’s conviction.” A flicker of pain crossed Marquess Golan’s eyes as he shook his head. “A pity I couldn’t protect Ryan.”

The old Grand Vizier fell silent for a moment, then said with a severe expression, “The late King wanted to dismantle the York family and reintegrate the three eastern provinces. You, Queen Catherine, and the families of the Four Great Princes were staunchly opposed, while Roland, Williams, Joshua, Wellington, and Nim all expressed support. I once gave my counsel to His Majesty Ryan that if Prince Edward married a noblewoman from the York family, we would all support his succession to the throne. But His Majesty Ryan insisted on accepting Duke Joshua’s marriage alliance proposal. He confidently told me it was to unite the three ducal families while putting pressure on the York family. He also said that Sylvia had long been displeased with the York family’s peripheral lords and wanted to kick out all those turncoats. Ryan was certain that the reintegration of the three eastern provinces would succeed!”

“Ryan was the King, and a Gold Knight. Besides obeying the King’s will, what else could I do?” Bastern said with vexation. “In the end, His Majesty Ryan became the first Gold Knight to suffer Annihilation in battle in over three hundred years.”

“I often wonder, who set up the scheme to murder my King? The Dodor Kingdom, the Kingdom of Naville, the Sasan Empire, the Radiant Knights, Neowist, and Nachtigal behind him—even His Holiness the Pope was involved. Who has the ability to unite so many factions against Ryan?”

Bastern’s aged voice, filled with a charm of both bewilderment and wisdom, echoed in the small study. Even Marquess Golan couldn’t help but listen intently.

“I later came to a conclusion. Ryan died because of the Auguste family’s romantic Nature.”

“Spirit Knights are gods in the eyes of other knights. Their power is invincible in the mortal world. Their existence proves the world origin’s favor toward knights, proves the nobility and power of knights. Every knight’s bloodline has the potential to become a Spirit Knight; they are the source of a knight’s pride. What of the Chosen? Even the most frenzied Chosen would not dare to use a knight in a Blood Sacrifice. They fear the wrath of the world’s origin, that it would send down more Spirit Knights. And what of the Lord of Radiance? We knights have our own spirits, how could we bow our heads to the Church? For more than ten thousand years, the extraordinary have reached a consensus—the majesty of a Spirit Knight shall not be offended!”

“The majesty of a Spirit Knight shall not be offended is equivalent to the majesty of all knights shall not be offended.”

“This consensus is tradition, it is conviction, it is an incomparably vast power. In the face of this power, the Chosen retract their claws. In the face of this power, Pope Inoc bows his head in compromise. We knight families rule the secular world by this power. However, this power is not that of the Spirit Knights themselves. It is the power of hearts and minds, rooted in the bloodlines of all knights.”

“Ryan Auguste could not suppress the romantic Nature in his bloodline. He wanted to do what others dared not do—challenge this power. And so, all the factions saw a fool courting his own death… Why not give him a push and tear off a piece of his flesh? At that point, Sylvia’s thoughts no longer mattered, the tacit understanding between her and Ryan no longer mattered. She could only watch as Ryan was crushed by this power.”

Marquess Golan stood up and paced the study like a lion patrolling its territory. He suddenly looked up and said in a low, firm voice, “Sylvia cannot control this power!”

“Of course she cannot control this power. She can only submit to it, and then borrow a tiny bit of it,” Marquess Bastern said with a light laugh, holding up his little finger.

Marquess Golan returned to his seat and said with a relaxed tone, “The power of hearts and minds is condensed from the bloodlines of knights. A very profound insight.”

The old Marquess Bastern continued, “Why would the lords of Gambia and the nobles of the Royal Capital submit to Ryan’s Nature? Because Ryan was the master of Gambia, and as his subjects, we must offer the King our loyalty. This is also part of the power of hearts and minds, and it is called the kingdom’s system. But a kingdom is not the King’s alone; it has a will of its own.”

Marquess Golan asked pensively, “What are you trying to say?”

“The kingdom should have two different voices—one of support, and one of opposition.” Bastern’s eyes were bright as he spoke in a calm tone. “Back then, when Ryan wanted to form a marriage alliance with the Joshua family, I expressed my opposition and proposed an alliance with the York family instead. Now, His Majesty Edward is to marry a noblewoman from the York family. Marquess Bastern has no dissenting opinion, but Grand Vizier Bastern expresses his opposition.”

“Your Highness Golan, the ancestors of Gambia’s Four Great Princes and Three Great Dukes were all followers of the Augustes, but we have our own internal and external distinctions, our own positions.” Bastern stood up and bowed formally. “Aerie Fortress unilaterally breaking the engagement seriously damages the reputation of the Auguste and Wellington families. Duke Wellington’s proposed response fully embodies the Wellington family’s core strategy of aligning with the Augustes. This is no different in essence from the Wellington family’s series of actions: supporting Ryan, supporting Roland, supporting Edward, and sending Margaret to Aerie Fortress.”

“Viscount Randell flirts with Miss Margaret, Margaret’s affections shift, and she takes the initiative to break the engagement. Considering His Majesty Edward is only twelve and still an apprentice knight, it is natural for Margaret to be unable to resist Viscount Randell’s temptations, which aligns with the Nature and path of a high-ranking female knight. This will not cause too much trouble for little Edward. Although Margaret’s actions bring shame upon Aerie Fortress and the Wellington family, a political marriage has turned into a romantic affair, greatly diminishing its negative impact.”

“The York family, as the suzerain of the Centaur Hills, must take responsibility for the trouble Viscount Randell has caused. Aerie Fortress will expel Margaret. Wellington will immediately marry Angelina Branstat York. The timing is a bit tight, but with a little guidance of public opinion, it will evolve into a story where the Royal Family, in order to cover up the scandal, demands the York family make amends. The York family is thus forced to offer up their most outstanding noblewoman to appease the wrath of Aerie Fortress.”

Old Marquess Bastern chuckled. “The noble circles love nothing more than to gossip about the romantic affairs of the great nobles. When enough people talk about it, the false becomes true… It’s a bit unseemly, but the Augustes preserve the authority of the royal family, and it doesn’t harm the bigger picture.”

Golan smiled and nodded. But old Marquess Bastern’s tone shifted again. “However, Aerie Fortress will privately owe Wellington a huge favor. But on the surface, the necessary reprimands cannot be spared. Duke Wellington, feeling deeply alarmed, will strip Margaret of her inheritance and banish her to the southern fief of his duchy, which borders Wildwillow City. This is, of course, to make it convenient for her to have trysts with Viscount Randell. Duke Wellington expresses his apology, yet also fulfills his fatherly affections. The knights of the Wellington family, though ashamed, can’t help but feel a little smug and secretly pleased. There will be no disloyalty or discord within the Wellington family; on the contrary, they will become even more united and close-knit under external criticism. The reason is simple: Margaret is the Wellington family’s most outstanding Silver Bloodline female knight, yet high-ranking female knights have few partners and difficulty bearing children, while Viscount Randell possesses a noble, ancient bloodline. The ambiguous relationship between them brings new hope to the Wellington family.”

“And it gets even more brilliant!” Bastern clapped his hands in praise. “Sylvia once wanted to make Viscount Randell a vassal of the York family, but she eventually gave up on the idea. Victor’s reluctance was one reason, but his refusal also made Sylvia realize the significance of Viscount Randell’s status as an attendant of Aerie Fortress… Ensuring the Randell family’s independence helps the York family build an informal diplomatic channel with Aerie Fortress, preventing the Centaur Hills from being completely isolated by the Kingdom of Gambia.”

“Now, the York family is forming a marriage alliance with the Augustes. The Randell family’s diplomatic function is utterly lost, and Viscount Randell’s political influence is greatly diminished. Whether Sylvia likes it or not, in the eyes of the lords of Gambia, Viscount Randell can no longer represent the will of Goldwater City, nor can he express the attitude of Aerie Fortress. In other words, Victor is no longer the sought-after great noble in Gambia he once was. The Randell family has politically faded from the sight of Gambia’s powerful lords. From now on, Victor will move from the light into the shadows. Many things the great families didn’t dare do before can now be done. For example, sending spies into the Randell Fief. For example, competing with the Randell family for interests in Wildwillow City…”

“Victor will soon discover he can no longer shelter Lady Judy, no longer control the situation in Wildwillow City.” Marquess Bastern shook his head with a smile. “Surely Judy and her son won’t allow Victor to assassinate the few remaining knights of the Briatte family? Therefore, Victor needs an external supporter… And as it happens, his rumored lover—Baroness Margaret Wellington—is right next door.”

“Duke Wellington believes Victor is a backup plan planted by Aerie Fortress at Sylvia’s side and has proposed the imperial political structure of the Royal Family and the Queen’s family. Regardless of whether his speculation is true, we should accept his strategic vision and work towards it.”

Marquess Golan said sternly, “This is the first I’ve heard of this vision, but I agree with it in principle.”

“This is the brilliance of Duke Wellington…” The Grand Vizier of Aerie Fortress sighed deeply and said, “The kingdom is about to cross the river and expand south. The strategic position of the southern territories is crucial. The Joshua and Nim families must find a foothold in the south… and there is no better breakthrough point than Wildwillow City… It is perfectly reasonable for the royal family to support House Sorim, and for the Joshua and Nim families to help the Queen’s family build a port. Having accepted favors from two great families, how can Sylvia support Victor? Victor looks around and finds that only the Wellington family can help him… Duke Wellington has completed his strategy of suppression and recruitment without even lifting a finger.”

“Moreover, he is doing it to win Viscount Randell over for the Auguste family… If he succeeds, the Wellington family will instantly become the third most powerful family, second only to the Auguste and York families. If he fails, they suffer no loss…” Bastern leaned back in his chair, caught his breath, and then asked, “Your Highness, Duke Wellington’s strategy is breathtaking. But all of his plans first ensure the interests of the Augustes before seeking benefits for his own family. If the two conflict, he prioritizes abandoning his family’s interests. Duke Wellington is more like a noble of the Royal Capital than the Four Great Princes! Do you know why that is?”

Without waiting for Golan to respond, Bastern sneered, “To obtain the Auguste bloodline.”

“With the Royal Family producing two Gold Knights in a row, the Auguste’s Silver Bloodline has reached its zenith in this era. Of course the Wellington family must cling to the Augustes’ coattails and offer their loyalty. It doesn’t even matter if Victor rejects Margaret; Wellington can still draw upon the noble bloodline from the Augustes.”

“Of course, Duke Wellington’s actions are also what we are happy to see. In fact, the noblewomen of the Four Great Princes’ families have made enormous sacrifices to purify the Auguste bloodline… They bear the children of High-ranked Knights with the strength of apprentice knights and generally do not live past the age of fifty… But this is the mission of our four families, and we have no regrets.” Bastern’s expression was sorrowful, but his gaze was sharp as he asked, “But what if something happens to Victor? Duke Wellington has already arranged a line of retreat for himself. Where is the retreat for us, for Aerie Fortress?”

Marquess Golan said with a headache, “You also believe Victor is a backup plan we arranged?”

“That’s not important! He is there, and no one can ignore his bloodline! Just as no one can ignore the majesty of a Spirit Knight.” Bastern said seriously, “Your Highness, you must admit that Victor’s bloodline is the foundation for Sylvia’s marriage proposal and also the foundation for the strategic vision of an imperial political structure with a royal and queen’s family. But anything can happen.”

“The ancient elves loved beauty and slaughter; beneath their exquisite appearance lay a heart for hunting and killing. Draven grew through combat. Victor killed a Savage Gnoll, awakened his Wind Walk talent, dared to face an Ogre, hunted countless Ant-man chiefs, and when faced with the Great Knight Austin, he shot to kill without a second thought. Victor followed his hunting Nature to get where he is today. Unfortunately, the nobles of the Moon Elf bloodline are too fragile… Raymond Peter of the Kingdom of Borea awakened his Wind Walk talent in a battle against Barbarians, while the Queen of Sus’s second Moon Elf noble lover died a miserable death in the Twilight Forest. This is perhaps why the Sword Saint Draven is one of a kind. If you let them run free, they will inevitably face greater dangers, but if you tie them down, the Moon Elf bloodline may degenerate. So who can guarantee that Victor will always be lucky?”

Marquess Golan’s gaze sharpened, and he asked again, “What are you trying to say?”

“We must prioritize the protection of the Auguste bloodline,” Bastern said calmly. “Edward awakened his Aura the moment he was born, proving he is a direct descendant of the Auguste core faction. Otherwise, how could we have made him King? Angelina’s birth is noble, but she is of a Bronze Bloodline, after all. A mixed bloodline is the greatest enemy of a Silver Bloodline! According to tradition, the children of Angelina and Edward belong to the York family. But what if Edward is as willful as Ryan and insists on making Anna’s child the Crown Prince? What should we do then? If Sylvia loses Victor, she will surely support Anna’s child for the position of Crown Prince in order to obtain the Auguste’s Silver Bloodline, thereby seizing control of the situation in Gambia…”

Bastern rose again and bowed. “Your Highness, I ask you, who can stop the Spirit Knight of Gambia’s Queen’s family from interfering in the internal affairs of the Royal Family?”

Golan’s brow furrowed. He tapped his fingers on the table and said, “I have also considered this problem… I might as well tell you, Roland has reached her breaking point. She plans to leave the Kingdom of Gambia to break through to the legendary realm. With Roland gone, Aerie Fortress needs to unite with Sylvia even more… Do you have any other concerns now?”

Marquess Bastern was stunned for a moment, then overjoyed. He nodded with a smile. “That’s good. As long as His Highness Roland is safe and sound, she can rely on her long lifespan to eventually return to Gambia and right the wrongs. But I must still leave a backup plan for the Auguste family.”

Golan looked at the Grand Vizier’s aged face, unable to decide if he felt disgust, indignation, or admiration and respect. He finally let out a long sigh and said with a complicated expression, “Bastern, although you are not a knight, you have a knight’s spirit of sacrifice… But if you challenge the majesty of a Spirit Knight, no knight in Gambia will stand with you. You must think this through.”

Bastern laughed heartily. “Your Highness Golan, I have lived long enough. Duke Wellington was right. For something this momentous, it’s only reasonable for one or two great nobles to die. As it happens, His Eminence Clement wants to hold a Holy Light prayer for Her Highness Sylvia. I will use this old life of mine to make His Eminence Clement understand that a Spirit Knight cannot bow their head to the Church!”

“For matters of the kingdom, where there is a force of support, there must be a voice of opposition. Only then can we advance and retreat as needed.”

“Gambia needs someone to tell her ‘no’!”

Chapter 438: A Ruined Reputation

The next morning, in the northern outskirts of Blinor City.

Sophia, clad in exquisitely crafted double-headed Dragon-Lizard leather armor, rode a massive, ferocious-looking, six-legged Swift Dragon. Looking down, she chided in a delicate voice, “Natalya, hurry up and get on. Raegzo is getting impatient.”

Raegzo let out a low growl in perfect sync, while the other two barbarian Weapon Masters loudly mocked Natalya for dawdling like a Grelor goat. Having learned that Sophia was heading to Halotes Fortress, the three barbarian warriors were ecstatic, eager to return to their homeland at once. They had long grown tired of Natalya’s tearful farewell with her husband. The moment Sophia spoke, they began to unleash their unique barbarian taunts on the lingering Natalya.

The barbarians’ trash talk was as sharp as their axes. Natalya couldn’t withstand it and finally pulled away from Victor’s embrace. She gazed into his dark, mysterious eyes and asked sorrowfully, “My love, will you miss us?”

“Of course… I promise.”

Victor found the blonde beauty far more endearing than Sophia at that moment and couldn’t help but say, “When you return from your mission, you can stay at Silver Moon Manor as the Liaison Officer between the House of Randell and the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence.”

Natalya blinked her eyes and smiled sweetly. “Don’t forget me… I’m leaving now.” With that, she leaped onto the Swift Dragon.

Sophia spurred her Swift Dragon, and it galloped north along the road. Raegzo let out a wild howl, leading the other two barbarians in pursuit on foot. Four Sacred Warriors mounted on Horned Wolves and eleven retainer knights followed close behind.

Watching Sophia and Natalya disappear at the end of the road, Victor felt a wave of relief, yet also a twinge of wistfulness.

The noblewomen of Sus were known for being clever, obedient, gentle, and charming. Just like Natalya—she knew Victor was surrounded by many women and that she held no special place in his heart. This parting might be their last, yet she made no excessive demands, only showing her reluctance to leave. Sophia, on the other hand, hadn’t even looked back.

Sophia’s gentleness was just a facade. She was rebellious and untamable, fiercely competitive, and only grew stronger with every setback—the type of powerhouse who would fight for toys in kindergarten, for the spotlight in school, and for top performance in the workplace. When she heard about the formation of The Golden Company, she was as pumped up as if she’d been shot with adrenaline, pushing aside all thoughts of her husband.

To put it bluntly, she was belligerent by nature, finding her sense of self and accomplishment through conflict.

A woman with such a personality was absolutely not suited to be Victor’s wife, much less the lady of the House of Randell.

Under Sophia’s command were over six hundred Elite Soldiers and more than twelve hundred caravan hands. They came from over seven hundred families, totaling more than ten thousand people. If a force this large, led by Sophia, were to flood into the Randell Fief, it would be a miracle if the Randall family didn’t undergo a massive change.

Victor had once been reluctant to part with Sophia’s beauty and tenderness, but now he finally understood. Nicole’s worries were not unfounded. With Sophia’s contentious and combative personality, if she ever moved into Silver Moon Manor, she would undoubtedly whip all of Victor’s lovers and subordinates into submission.

It wasn’t that Sophia had no feelings for Victor. If Victor had been a High-ranked Knight, Sophia might have restrained herself. But since her husband was unaffected by the Elemental Sea, she could naturally exercise her own will with impunity and swiftly build her knight’s conviction.

Normally, as the leader of the House of Randell and Sophia’s husband, Victor should have done everything in his power to help the family’s only Knight of the Raging Tides build her knight’s conviction.

However, a High-ranked Knight’s Creed of protection was fundamentally incompatible with the path of development for the Randell Fief.

Although Victor had lost control of The Golden Company, he had also prevented Sophia from bringing disaster to his fief. All in all, it was something to be thankful for.

“Let’s go.” Victor averted his gaze, shook his head, and boarded the two-wheeled carriage.

Gru, the Captain of the Personal Guard, urged his Swiftbird forward and asked, “My lord, are we returning to the Marquess’s estate?”

Victor had originally planned to see Sylvia, but Natalya’s tender display had reminded him of Nicole. With Nicole away and Alice unwilling to see him for the next six months, Victor decided to go and check on Judy.

“To the Briatte family’s residence.”

The two-wheeled carriage sped along the stone-paved streets of the inner city. Along the way, young nobles nodded in deference to the husband of the Marchioness Wimbledon. But Victor overheard their hushed discussions.

“That’s Viscount Randell…”

“What’s he doing here?”

“Princess Roland just forced her way into the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence with her men… Her Highness didn’t catch Viscount Randell…”

“Her Highness went to Duke York’s mansion… Should we go inform Her Highness that Viscount Randell is heading to the Briatte family’s residence?”

A bad feeling washed over Victor. He tapped the carriage’s armrest and ordered, “To Duke York’s mansion.”

The streets grew more crowded, and the entrance to the lane leading to the Duke’s mansion was completely blocked. The crowd of gawking young nobles saw Victor’s carriage and automatically cleared a path. A dozen fully-armored Swift Dragon Knights stood guard at the mansion’s gates, glaring menacingly at Viscount Randell in his carriage.

Victor’s gaze turned cold. A gentle breeze swirled around his body, gradually transforming into a harsh, dark-green torrent of air. He leaped from the carriage, his hand on his sword hilt, and strode directly toward the mansion’s main gate. The Swift Dragon Knights all fell back. Victor sneered and was just about to step through the gate when he ran into Roland and Anna.

The princess, clad in Mithril armor, was storming out with a sword in one hand and Anna’s arm in the other, her face flushed with anger. Seeing Victor arrive, she snapped, “You’re just in time…”

“Darling, come over here. Let’s see who dares to touch you.”

A pleasant voice made the Swift Dragon Knights, who had been spoiling for a fight, freeze on the spot. Roland glanced back at the serene-looking Sylvia, stomped her foot, and shouted, “We’re leaving!”

Tucking Anna under her arm, she mounted her unicorn. Before leaving, she scolded Victor, “Look what you’ve done!” Her voice wasn’t loud, but it carried a great distance.

Anna secretly stuck out her little tongue and gave Victor a thumbs-up, her face full of admiration. The Swift Dragon Knights parted the crowd and escorted the princess away in a grand procession.

Victor stood stunned for a long moment before muttering to himself in bewilderment, “What did I do?”

Sylvia came forward, took his arm, and explained as they walked, “At Aerie Fortress, you seduced His Majesty Edward’s fiancée—Miss Margaret Wellington. Now Miss Wellington has shown up here and refuses to return to the royal palace. Roland couldn’t stand it, so she brought her people and abducted Angelina. She declared that if the York family doesn’t hand over you and Margaret, she’ll hold onto Anna.”

Victor: “…”

“Why are you looking at me like that? To protect you, I had no choice but to sacrifice Angelina.” Sylvia pouted aggrievedly.

Victor was silent for a moment, then shook his head with a wry smile. “Roland is a great actress, but I didn’t expect you to be just as good.”

Sylvia let out a chuckle and said, “This is indeed Auguste’s best way to break off the engagement.”

Victor said with a grimace, “But what about my reputation?”

“Your reputation?” Sylvia shot her lover a sidelong glance and giggled into her hand. “Darling, you’re as audaciously lecherous as the Sword Saint Draven… You took Duchess of York for yourself, took her guardian knight Trisley, took the Young Lady of the Chapman family, took Viscount Briart’s wife, and seduced the young lady of the Wellington family. It wouldn’t be surprising if you end up seducing the Queen Mother in the future… What good reputation do you have left to speak of?”

“What, are you going to deny it? Are you going to let us women bear the reputation of seducing you?” Sylvia’s long, slender fingers rested on Victor’s arm as she chided him coquettishly.

“I… I’m speechless.”

Sylvia gave her lover a ‘that’s more like it’ eye-roll and sighed softly. “Margaret is the biggest victim in all this… I’ll go with you to see her.”

Miss Wellington sat alone on the sofa in the small drawing-room. Her skin was bloodless, with a jade-like translucence that, paired with her pure white gauze dress and cold temperament, made her seem like a beauty carved from ice and snow. When she saw Sylvia and Victor enter, she merely rose and curtsied with a detached expression.

Sylvia pulled Victor to sit opposite her and said apologetically, “Miss Wellington, I’m very sorry. We’re the ones who got you into this mess.”

Margaret shook her head and said, “The root cause is that I am no match for Princess Roland.”

“True.” Sylvia nodded. “Auguste’s descendants are passionate and rebellious, they hate restraints and yearn for freedom. Capturing His Majesty Edward’s heart wouldn’t have been difficult, but with Princess Roland backing him, it’s a different story. In any case, this incident has damaged your reputation. Please, name any request you have. We will do our best to compensate you.”

Margaret asked, “Your Highness, my mother says my Nature is cold, and it is difficult for an ordinary partner to develop deep feelings for me. Besides bearing heirs and protecting my family, I have no other worldly attachments. May I ask if you have a solution for this?”

Sylvia shook her head and sighed. “Gold Knights steal their power from the Elemental Sea; they were never meant to exist in the physical world. By deliberately pursuing the power of the Elemental Sea, you risk losing yourself. I suggest you forget the Elemental Sea and enjoy your life.”

“I can try.” Margaret looked up and asked Victor, “Your Excellency, my father wants me to pursue you. Will you accept me?”

Victor braced himself and said, “I’m sorry, Miss Wellington. Although my reputation isn’t the best, I’ve only formed intimate relationships with my partners under special circumstances. We can be friends…”

“Friends?” Margaret seriously considered Victor’s suggestion before shaking her head. “I don’t sense any sincerity from you. You’re just placating me.”

“Er… It’s a process,” Victor explained awkwardly.

Sylvia smiled. “He’s afraid you’ll hurt him… Margaret, if you were to pledge your allegiance to me, I would grant you the title of Earl and a corresponding fief, and I guarantee you could enjoy the pleasure of being pursued by a Moon Elf.”

Margaret continued to shake her head. “I will not betray the Wellington family.”

“Nothing is set in stone. If Duke Wellington thinks you’ll be an easy catch for Victor, he’s gravely mistaken. Perhaps before long, only Gold Knights will be able to attract Victor, and the extraordinary charm of a Sun Elf can also help a Silver Knight step into the Gold realm. Think it over carefully. We won’t disturb your rest any longer. We’ll take our leave.” Sylvia grabbed Victor’s hand and left the small drawing room.

Victor shook off Sylvia’s slender hand and said irritably, “What do you take me for? I have no feelings for her at all…”

“And what if you did have feelings?” Sylvia asked, tilting her head.

Victor’s face flushed then paled as he mumbled, “It seems I have little resistance to high-ranking female knights… This is a serious problem.”

“It’s the Nature of a Moon Elf.”

“What nature?” Victor asked blankly.

“A love for perfect things,” Sylvia explained. “I suspect the Sun Elves rule the Moon Elves by exploiting this elven nature of pursuing perfection. The Moon Elves rule the Greater Elves, who in turn rule the Lesser Elves, and this forms the social structure of the Elves.”

“The bodies and minds of high-ranking female knights approach perfection. While they can’t control you like the High Elves can, their desire for possession will create a special attraction on a spiritual level. Otherwise, do you think Draven would have risked his life to climb into a female Gold Knight’s bed?” Sylvia eyed Victor and chuckled teasingly, then shook her head. “You seem to have a talent for resisting spiritual charm… by becoming completely apathetic… I don’t know if Draven had a similar talent, but judging from his path of growth, I suggest you follow your Nature.”

“Follow my Nature? A Nature that is as lecherous as my life depends on it?” Victor said, his expression grim.

Sylvia snuggled into Victor’s arms, caressing his cheek as she said affectionately, “Darling. You attract the high-ranking female knights first, and only then do they want to possess you… His Majesty Draven was never harmed by his lovers. I can see a unique manifestation of the Elemental Sea in you. Compared to the life form of a Gold Knight, you seem gentler, more natural, and more stable, but you haven’t reached your limit yet.”

Victor frowned. “Having a weak will is never a good thing.”

“Your will must also follow your Nature.” Sylvia shook her head with a smile. “To what extent do you want to temper your will? To the point of forcing yourself to like a Goblin? I’m not encouraging you to be promiscuous, I’m just suggesting you don’t deliberately use that talent of yours to suppress the Nature in your bloodline… The specifics of where to draw the line and the dangers involved, you’ll have to grasp yourself. I can’t help you with that, and you don’t like me interfering, right?”

Victor stared at Sylvia and demanded, “Then what made you so sure I would pursue Margaret?”

“Can’t I just trick her into coming over first?” Sylvia huffed righteously. “Too bad she didn’t fall for it… It’s all your fault for not cooperating! I don’t care, you have to compensate me.”

“Alright, what compensation do you want? Wait a minute…”

Victor looked at the charming and beautiful Sylvia and said in confusion, “You sold me out, and not only did I go along with it, I practically helped you count the money. So why do I have to compensate you?”

Sylvia giggled. “Then why don’t you sell me out, hmm?”

Victor shook his head seriously. “No!”

What a joke. How could a real man sell his own wife?

Chapter 439: The King’s Betrothal

The Kingdom of Gambia had no specific holidays. For the nobles of the Royal Capital, the Royal Family’s fixed annual hunt was a yearly festival, and the Three Forks River Grand Military Tournament was a major celebration held every five years. As for significant events like a new king’s coronation, a king’s wedding, the birth of a crown prince, or the investiture of a grand duke, these were considered grand kingdom ceremonies.

Not all nobles of Gambia were qualified to attend these kingdom celebrations or grand ceremonies. The scions of noble families who couldn’t an invitation could only take pride in being well-informed, and discussing the related news became their primary pastime and entertainment.

This year, Gambia’s coronation ceremony for the new king treated the nobles of the Royal Capital to a stunningly brilliant spectacle.

The young Prince Edward was formally crowned, Grand Duke Williams became regent, the Senate passed Princess Royal Roland’s Call to Arms for the Fishman War with a unanimous vote, and at the same time, the two great kingdoms of Gambia and Dodor reached an agreement. Dodor’s main legion would withdraw from the Minsk Fortress front, and Gambia’s overall strategy would shift from the north to the south.

Every noble knew of these great matters of the kingdom. The vast majority of them yearned to one day hold great power and decide the kingdom’s fate, but that was merely a desire. They were more interested in the amusing anecdotes circulating within noble circles, trying to find opportunities to curry favor and climb the social ladder. Among these, the most eye-catching figure was undoubtedly the kingdom’s new star, Viscount Randell.

Viscount Randell came from a humble background. He had served as an attendant in Aerie Fortress for a few years before marrying into the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence, becoming the “little husband” of the most beautiful woman in the Royal Capital. Afterward, thanks to the favor of Marchioness Wimbledon, he became the baron lord of the Centaur Hills. Then, for his merits in the Ant-man War, he was granted the title of viscount lord by the Royal Family.

Generally speaking, the starting point for an Aerie Fortress attendant was very high. A noble scion from a lesser family, as long as they were selected for Aerie Fortress and served the Royal Family for eight years, was guaranteed an enviable future. On the eve of an attendant’s departure from the royal palace, the Royal Family would generously prepare a cleansing potion or a vigor potion for each of them. Those attendants who successfully advanced to become knights would have the honor of joining the mighty Glory Knights and becoming noble Swift Dragon Knights. If they served in the Knight’s Hall for twenty-five years, they would have the right to recruit two apprentice knights and twenty cavalrymen from among their retiring comrades, and take their Swift Dragon companion with them, enjoying a lifetime royal allowance of 1,500 Gold Sol per year. Those who performed exceptionally well could even receive a letter of recommendation from Aerie Fortress, join a lord’s family, and obtain a fiefdom of their own.

An outstanding Aerie Fortress attendant would begin training at the age of eight and would need thirty-three years to become a hereditary lord. Viscount Randell, however, had spent only ten years making the magnificent transition from an Aerie Fortress attendant to a viscount lord. The legendary tale of Viscount Randell was a favorite among bards, but it also drew the envy and jealousy of other noble scions.

The noble scions could only be envious of Viscount Randell’s Bloodline. As for his wisdom, courage, and effort, they considered themselves his equal in every way. Thus, Viscount Randell’s good looks and romantic affairs became the subject of their after-dinner conversations, and the content of these talks contained absolutely no praise, only malicious banter.

For example, to establish a foothold in the Centaur Hills, Viscount Randell had betrayed his supportive wife and fallen at the feet of the Duchess of York. Viscount Randell hadn’t held fast to his territory to resist the Ant-man tide; instead, he had seduced the Young Lady of the Chapman family and hidden in their fortress. Viscount Randell had coveted the wealth of Wildwillow City and the beauty of Viscountess Briart, murdering Lord Austin Briart. Viscount Randell had disregarded the bigger picture of the kingdom and humiliated the special envoy of the Dodor Kingdom, Earl Ludwig… Whenever these topics came up, the noblemen would scoff with disdain, and the noblewomen would tremble. But secretly, they all wished they could trade places with him.

Now, Viscount Randell had done something else, something earth-shattering.

His Majesty Edward Auguste’s fiancée suddenly led her family attendants out of Aerie Fortress and moved into the Duke of York’s mansion. Her Highness Roland led the Glory Knights to arrest Miss Wellington and Viscount Randell, but was unsuccessful, instead abducting the York family’s little princess. All signs pointed to Viscount Randell having seduced the King’s fiancée, sparking this incident.

The noble circles of Gambia were in an uproar. The heads of every family strictly forbade their children from discussing the matter, fearing they would get caught in the crossfire. The Regent, who had been away on vacation, rushed back to Blinor City overnight and convened an emergency cabinet meeting to discuss countermeasures. For a time, widespread panic gripped Blinor City, and the Kingdom of Gambia seemed to be on the brink of civil war.

Fortunately, the venerable Pope had not yet left Brinol Cathedral. Thanks to his diligent efforts to mediate, the situation took a turn for the better.

Two days later, Duke Wellington retrieved Miss Margaret from the Duke’s mansion and quietly returned to Vistock. The Royal Family and the Duke of York reached an agreement. Miss Angelina Branstat York moved into Aerie Fortress alone, in the capacity of His Majesty Edward’s fiancée. However, the nobles of Gambia generally believed she was a hostage the York family had handed over to the Royal Family. Miss Anna’s status was extremely special; she represented the marital alliance between the York family and the Blanstedt family. Her entry into Aerie Fortress meant the York family would face censure from their in-laws and would very likely lose a powerful external ally.

The sudden crisis in the kingdom concluded with the Wellington family withdrawing from Aerie Fortress and the York family surrendering its most promising noblewoman. All three parties were left with egg on their faces. It was said that Miss Wellington was even stripped of her inheritance rights by her family and exiled to the southern part of the Wellington duchy. The future Queen of Gambia had become a minor Baron. And the instigator of it all, Viscount Randell, was once again thrust into the eye of the storm of public opinion.

Rumors about Viscount Randell and Miss Wellington ran rampant. Some cursed Viscount Randell for being audaciously lecherous, while others praised Miss Wellington for bravely pursuing love, even wanting to become her followers.

Since they were rumors, all sorts of speculation were inevitable.

A certain theory began to circulate in Gambia’s noble circles, suggesting that this whole affair was actually a conspiracy by the York family. During their Westward Migration to the Centaur Hills, the York family had abducted Prince Edward’s first fiancée, Miss Katerina of the Joshua family. Then, they had sent Viscount Randell to seduce King Edward’s second fiancée, Miss Margaret of the Wellington family. Their goal was to place a York noblewoman on the throne of Gambia and then, as the Queen’s family, control the situation in the kingdom.

However, compared to the conspiracy theory, the noble circles were more enthusiastic about discussing Viscount Randell’s romantic affairs. The theory of the York family plotting for the position of the Queen’s family only circulated within a small circle, and its influence didn’t seem to be very great. But the truth was likely not so simple, because “small circle” referred to the inner circle of the great nobles.

Victor didn’t have time to ponder the suspicious details. He was already at his wit’s end.

Anna’s parents had arrived in Blinor City. Viscount Fredrick had a huge argument with Enbise, while Lady Audel wept before Victor, complaining that he hadn’t watched over her daughter properly and that she now had no way to answer to the Blanstedt family. Although she didn’t say it outright, her pitiful, resentful expression was undoubtedly a silent demand for an explanation from Victor.

The Fredricks had entrusted Anna to Victor’s guardianship in the hopes that she would remain in the Centaur Hills as a Guardian for the Fredrick family. Now, Victor had lost their daughter. Faced with the sorrowful and moving Lady Audel, he could neither defend himself nor offer comfort. Sylvia stood on the side, fanning the flames, shifting all the blame onto him.

Victor was unable to defend himself against the accusations and simply moved into Judy’s residence, staying there until the Aerie Fortress’s Household Department sent an invitation to Edward and Anna’s engagement banquet.

Thousands of lizard-oil candles illuminated the Knight’s Hall of Aerie Fortress as if it were broad daylight. Every Gambian lord who was staying in the Royal Capital attended the engagement banquet hosted by the Royal Family. Guests gathered in small groups, chatting and laughing, and the atmosphere of the banquet was relaxed and harmonious.

In a corner of the great hall, Viscount Ternis Ludwig held a wine glass and smiled at Victor. “I remember the preparations for His Majesty Edward and Miss Wellington’s engagement banquet were more thorough and on a grander scale, but every guest was forcing a smile. You couldn’t feel the joyous atmosphere we have tonight at all. It seems Miss York was destined to be Gambia’s Queen.” He paused, raised his glass, and teased, “And it’s all thanks to you, my friend.”

Victor pursed his lips and said, “You believe those rumors too?”

Ternis clapped Victor on the shoulder and laughed heartily. “My dear friend, you don’t need to pay any mind to the rumors of the jealous. The reason everyone is so happy is that we no longer have to worry about Gambia falling into a civil war… Look, all those beautiful noble ladies and madams are searching for Viscount Randell’s figure. Why not go out and say hello to them? I guarantee you’ll receive the warmest of welcomes.”

Victor said irritably, “Thank you for your kind intentions, but I have enough trouble as it is… I think I see your wife looking for you… ahem, you’d best go over to her and let me enjoy the quiet alone.”

Ternis followed Victor’s gaze and saw his wife, Susanna, looking around with a mature noblewoman and a young nobleman. He readily accepted the advice, saying, “Susanna mentioned before that she wanted to introduce her distant aunt and cousin to me… I’ll head over now, so they don’t disturb you.”

Victor raised his glass in a gesture. After Viscount Ternis left, he quietly moved into a blind spot in the lighting. On second thought, he realized Viscount Ternis’s actions would soon expose his position, so it wasn’t wise to stay there. Just as Victor was about to shift along the wall towards a side door, a Knight of the Household Department approached him and said in a low voice, “Your Excellency Randell, His Highness the Regent requests your presence in the small meeting room.”

“What does His Highness want with me?” Victor asked.

“Your Excellency is Miss York’s guardian. The betrothal contract requires your personal signature and the seal of the Randell family.”

“Then let’s go.”

The small meeting room was packed with people. With the exception of the Wellington and Sorim families, the heads of Gambia’s Senate families were all present, along with important members of the Royal Family, Pope Clement, Tournans, Archbishop Lazarus, and his successor, Bishop Saen.

Seeing Victor enter the meeting, Regent Williams was the first to greet him. “Lord Randell, these documents require your signature.”

Victor walked to the table, picked up the parchment documents, and quickly scanned through them.

The core of the betrothal contained only one clause: the children of Angelina Branstat York and the King will not have the right to inherit the throne. They will only have inheritance rights to the York and Blanstedt families, and their guardianship rights will first and foremost belong to the Randell family.

Victor looked up, first at the exquisitely dressed Sylvia. After receiving her nod of approval, he looked at Anna and Edward, who were holding hands with blissful expressions, and then glanced at the lavishly-haired Katerina. Princess Royal Roland, standing beside Katerina, glared at him and barked, “What are you looking at! Hurry up and sign.”

Victor picked up the quill and signed his name on each of the three documents. He then took out his lord’s seal, dipped it in the ink paste, and stamped each one in turn.

Williams took the documents, handed them to Archbishop Lazarus at his table, and said with a smile, “The Royal Family, the Duke of York, and Anna’s guardian have all confirmed the contents of the betrothal. Your Excellency, Archbishop, please bear witness.”

The Cardinal pushed the documents in front of the Pope and chuckled. “His Majesty Edward’s marriage has had its twists and turns. I have signed two different betrothal contracts, and regrettably, both were overturned. It seems an old fellow like me is not suited to be a witness for betrothals. It’s better to ask His Holiness the Pope to witness it instead.”

“I can also only witness this betrothal in a private capacity. In the future, the marriage of His Majesty Auguste and Miss York will have to be presided over by Saen,” Clement said with a faint smile as he signed the document.

The crowd let out good-natured laughter. Williams, his spirits soaring, announced, “Next it is the turn of the Protector of the Kingdom and the Senate families to sign as witnesses.”

Sylvia, Roland, and Goron, the three Gold Knights, along with the representatives of the Senate families, signed the betrothal one by one. The document was finally passed to the hands of the Grand Vizier, old Marquess Bastern.

“The Bastern family agrees to witness the betrothal of His Majesty Edward and Miss Anna.” The old marquess signed his name, placed the Grand Vizier’s seal on the table, and said slowly and clearly, “The Grand Vizier of Gambia, Matus Bastern, refuses to witness the betrothal of His Majesty Auguste and Miss York.”

The air in the meeting room instantly froze. The gazes of everyone present focused on old Marquess Bastern. The spiritual pressure of more than a dozen Extraordinary powerhouses made it difficult for him to breathe, rendering him unable to speak.

Marquess Goron walked up behind Bastern and said in a deep voice, “The Grand Vizier has an obligation to offer counsel.”

Marquess Bastern felt the pressure ease. He took a deep breath and began to speak, “There is a rumor in the Royal Capital that the York family, in their plot to secure the position of the Queen’s family, forced out Miss Margaret Wellington…”

The little king shouted angrily, “That’s a rumor, not the truth!”

“Your Majesty, may I ask what the truth is?” Bastern asked with a respectful bow.

Edward stared blankly at Marquess Bastern, suddenly feeling that the kind and amiable old Grand Vizier was a complete stranger. He then looked pleadingly at Roland, Katerina, and Williams. Finally, his gaze fell upon Victor.

Victor’s face was ashen. He wanted nothing more than to tear this old fool to pieces, but Angelina’s pleading eyes made him relent. He said, word by word, “The truth is, Miss Margaret Wellington has the right to choose her own partner!”

“That explanation is hardly convincing,” Bastern said with a light chuckle before his expression turned serious. “To quell the rumors, I, in my capacity as the Grand Vizier of Gambia, request that Your Highness Sylvia swear an oath to the Supreme Lord that the children of Miss Anna and His Majesty Edward will never ascend the throne of Gambia!”

Marquess Goron sighed and stepped back. A strange silence fell over the meeting room. The guardian of the Bastern family, Earl Edur Bastern, couldn’t help but step forward and say, “Brother, have you gone mad?”

The old Grand Vizier closed his eyes and said nothing, his thin figure appearing desolate yet resilient. Earl Edur nodded, then shook his head, and silently retreated to the side.

At this moment, no one besides Victor dared to look directly at Sylvia, yet her every move was clearly imprinted in everyone’s mind. Sylvia rose gracefully, picked up a wine bottle, and poured a glass of Dumu wine to celebrate the betrothal. She said softly, “Bastern, your loyalty and courage are admirable. Drink this wine, and I will grant your request.”

Sylvia’s azure eyes turned dark red, and an invisible psychic sword shot straight toward Bastern’s brow. The old Grand Vizier took a step toward the wine glass, his vision gradually blurring, and an endless darkness caused him to crumple onto the cold floor.

For a mortal to challenge the majesty of a Spirit Knight was to court certain death.

Sylvia sighed with a touch of melancholy, raised the glass, and drained it in one go. She nodded to Edward and said, “Your Majesty, this is where I am helpless.”

Victor vaguely felt that Sylvia’s intended audience was actually Princess Royal Roland, who stood behind Edward.

“What happened to Lord Bastern?” the young king asked with a trembling voice.

No one answered Edward’s question. Victor didn’t even know why Bastern had to provoke Sylvia. But like everyone else, he felt not a shred of sympathy for Bastern’s fate. And the truly strong never needed sympathy.

In the end, Archbishop Lazarus gave the official verdict on the marquess’s death.

“Marquess Bastern was old and frail. He died of natural causes.”

The Pope, his face grim, nodded in agreement with Lazarus’s statement. He stepped over Bastern’s body, walked up to Edward and Anna, and said gently, “Edward, Angelina, a king must have a queen, and a queen must have a prince consort. But the love between a king and a queen will not be a smooth journey… You must especially cherish each other.”

Clement left the meeting room with his subordinates. From beginning to end, neither he nor Lazarus had spared Bastern’s body a single glance. Only Bishop Saen, just before leaving, quietly made a prayer gesture of the Radiant Holy Mountain over his chest.

The Church protected the right to life of the nobles. Although Sylvia had acted out of necessity, killing Bastern in public, it was now impossible for Clement to ever perform a Holy Light prayer for her. Bishop Saen, of Patriarch Tamor’s faction, felt a sense of relief at this.

“Earl Edur, take the Lord Grand Vizier back to the Marquess Bastern’s estate,” Marquess Goron instructed. He then turned to the grieving, crying Edward and said, “Your Majesty, you should be proud to be a knight, composed because you are a king, and gratified by Marquess Bastern’s loyalty. A king should not cry.”

“Auguste’s descendants can cry when they want and laugh when they want!”

Roland strode furiously to the table, grabbed the Grand Vizier’s seal, and stamped it on the betrothal contract. She then pulled Edward and Anna out of the room. The princess’s pleasant voice drifted back from the hallway, “Edward, you spineless little brat… I, for one, think you should be happy… That old man had ill intentions towards you and Anna. Hmph, Sylvia just helped me vent some pent-up rage…”

Williams shook his head with a smile in his eyes and said in a relaxed tone, “The betrothal has been concluded and is now in effect. Everyone, feel free to enjoy this evening’s feast.”

The people in the meeting room filed out, all laughing and talking as if nothing had happened. Victor moved closer to Sylvia and asked in a low voice, “Why did Bastern have to provoke you?”

Sylvia took Victor’s arm and said with a calm and nonchalant smile, “To question the succession rights of Anna’s children. In the future, the Four Great Princes would have an excuse to overthrow Edward and Anna’s descendants.”

“Treason?”

“Legal treason.”

Chapter 440: Roland’s Entrustment

Can rebellion be legitimate?

The answer to this question is wildly different depending on one’s standpoint.

From a king’s perspective, rebellion is undoubtedly an act of high treason, an unforgivable crime. But if the king himself is illegitimate, then rebellion becomes a heroic deed to right the wrongs. Of course, the final verdict is always decided by the victor.

However, the knightly values of loyalty and courage determined the social order of the human kingdoms. A liege lord held supreme secular power over their vassals. A vassal who dared to overthrow their lord’s rule would inevitably face internal skepticism, external attacks, and severe sanctions from the divine authority of the Church.

The forms of power transition within kingdoms, and even empires, could not exceed the basic constraints of the Radiant Code—the knight’s bloodline determined the right of succession. Take the imperial family of the Sasan Empire, for example. With their Gold Bloodline in decline, a single glance from a Gold Knight lord of the Empire could make Emperor Lant tremble with fear. How could the imperial family exercise the power of a liege lord under the spiritual pressure of an Extraordinary powerhouse? The Randt Imperial Family simply distanced themselves from the Empire’s center of power, retreating to a remote region to recuperate. The Eagle Empire eventually fractured into the three great kingdoms of Dodor, Naville, and Gambis.

Even so, the lords of the three kingdoms could not deny that Neowist was their nominal liege lord, much less commit the great sin of regicide. Otherwise, acts of rebellion would repeat endlessly, leading to the demise of the knightly families’ bloodlines one by one.

The King’s power came from his noble bloodline. Bastern had worried that Anna’s bloodline would pollute the Auguste family’s Silver Bloodline. Although Sylvia had followed the tradition of the Queen’s family and agreed that any children of Anna and Edward would belong to the York family, the direct line of the Auguste family was notoriously willful. The late King Ryan had rejected the noblewomen from the families of the Four Great Princes, insisting on marrying Linda and Catherine. He even ignored the pure-blooded Princess Royal Roland and Grand Duke Williams, wanting to pass the right of succession to his second son, Edward. If the young King was like his father, valuing kinship over the duties of a king, and took the initiative to name Anna’s child as Crown Prince, then with a Spirit Knight backing Anna, the Four Great Princes would have no choice but to compromise. They absolutely could not allow Sylvia to purge the four great families and plunder the Auguste Silver Bloodline in the name of defending the King.

Fortunately, Spirit Knights had relatively short lifespans. The Four Great Princes could yield for now, wait for Sylvia’s Annihilation, and then find an opportunity to cleanse Blinor City of the Queen’s family’s influence, pull Anna’s children from the throne, and re-establish the royal Auguste bloodline.

However, during this process, the marriage between Queen Anna and King Edward was legitimate, and their children’s right to the throne would be recognized by the Church and the lords of Gambis. The “rebellion” of the Four Great Princes would need a cloak of legitimacy.

Sylvia had killed the old Marquess Bastern in public. The Four Great Princes could use this to declare: the betrothal between the Auguste and York families was coerced by a Spirit Knight and was not His Majesty Edward’s true intention; therefore, Queen Anna’s children have no right to inherit the throne. Archbishop Saen, from Patriarch Tamor’s faction, was a witness to the Marquess’s death. Patriarch Tamor’s faction would be more than happy to use this incident to damage the prestige of Clement’s faction.

If Edward did not want his and Anna’s descendants to meet with disaster, if Sylvia did not want the York family to be engulfed in the chaos of war, they had best abide by the core terms of the betrothal contract and let Anna’s children obediently accept the Royal Family’s arrangements.

Grand Vizier Bastern, planning for a rainy day, used his own life to coerce the King and the Spirit Knight into keeping their promise, preventing the Kingdom of Gambia from sinking into a mire of internal conflict in the future. His actions were shameless, his sacrifice heroic. Though his scheme was highly effective, it was also exceptionally malicious.

After sharing the opening dance, Edward and Anna returned to the throne, both wearing gloomy expressions. With her beloved unhappy, how could Anna be happy? She hung her head, her beautiful eyes red-rimmed, barely managing to hold back tears. The young king sat for a moment before leaving the Knight’s Hall. Fortunately, he didn’t forget to take his fiancée with him. The two young ones had perhaps gone somewhere private to comfort each other. But in the eyes of the guests, His Majesty the King was clearly reluctant about this betrothal. This, too, was likely part of the old Grand Vizier’s calculations.

First love is pure and beautiful, the love between a young boy and girl untainted by any impurity. To be betrothed to one’s love should have been a joyous occasion, yet the groom’s representative had forced the bride’s guardian to kill him at the engagement ceremony, right in front of the new couple. And the purpose of his suicide was to deal with the couple’s future children… No one could accept such a thing.

Bastern’s intentions were damnable. His despicable act had caused great harm to Edward and Anna’s relationship. But to the Auguste royal family and the lords of Gambis, Grand Vizier Bastern was magnanimous and commendably loyal.

Victor sympathized with Edward and Anna’s plight, but what could be done? One was a king, the other a noblewoman from a great family.

The marriage of a king and a noblewoman from a great family had to first satisfy political needs; love was an optional extra. At least, in the eyes of the lords, this was all as it should be.

Bastern had dared to offend the majesty of a Spirit Knight; he got what he deserved! He was not worthy of sympathy. Edward and Anna’s unhappiness was not worthy of concern. The Auguste family and the Spirit Knight had formed a powerful alliance, the political situation in Gambis was stable, there was no fear of civil war, and the kingdom’s southern expansion looked promising. That was enough.

The King and the future Queen quietly departed, but the nobles of the Royal Capital and the regional lords continued their merrymaking.

Victor hid alone in a corner of the great hall, watching the jubilant guests, his mood quite sullen.

Bastern really deserved to die! To publicly force me to be the scapegoat and coerce my Sylvia… I should go and comfort Sylvia, but the guardians of the three kingdoms aren’t at the banquet… Who are those two high-ranking female knights with Judy? They look like Duchess Joshua and Duchess Nimes. Forget it, better not to stir up trouble… Right, Edward has suffered a blow, so Catherine must be very upset. I should comfort my former mistress… When will I see her again after this? Who knows?

Victor stared intently at the poised and beautiful Queen Mother.

Catherine was chatting with a few noblewomen. After a moment, she raised a delicate hand to her smooth, full forehead and knitted her willow-leaf brows, looking as fragile as if she couldn’t hold her liquor. Hiding half her face with a round fan, she said something to the lady beside her and then, accompanied by a court handmaiden, walked toward a side door of the great hall.

Victor slipped through another side door and, following the dim corridor, silently trailed behind Catherine. The sound of her high heels clicking on the floor painted a clear picture in his mind. When Catherine reached the door of a lounge, she instructed her handmaidens to return in an hour, saying she needed some time alone. The two court handmaidens curtsied and departed.

Once the handmaidens were gone, Victor dodged a patrolling guard and stood at the door for a moment. After confirming he could only hear Catherine’s heartbeat and breathing inside, he gently pushed open the unlocked door, only to freeze on the spot.

Roland, dressed in a sky-blue princess gown with her hair draped over her shoulders, was sitting beside Catherine with her legs crossed, glaring at him like a tigress.

“This is Catherine’s private lounge. What are you doing here?”

Victor’s smile vanished. He straightened his collar, placed a hand over his chest, and bowed. “My apologies, I seem to have taken a wrong turn.”

“A wrong turn? Hmph, follow me.”

The princess sneered, strode past Victor, and walked straight out the door. Catherine propped up her charming, pointed chin, her red lips pouting slightly, her eyes filled with mischievous amusement. Victor shrugged with a wry smile, gently closed the door, and followed in Roland’s footsteps.

The two of them exited the inner corridor of the Knight’s Hall, crossed the palace’s Inner Court, and, under the hazy moonlight, entered a quiet, deserted rear garden.

Deep within the garden was a small pool, on the bank of which grew two old oak trees so large it would take five people to encircle them. Wisteria vines coiled around their trunks, and a few vines stretched across the surface of the pool, connecting the two ancient trees that faced each other.

Roland leaped lightly onto an old oak tree, her high heels landing on a wisteria vine as thick as a bowl. She gracefully walked to the middle of the pool, directly above the reflection of the silver moon in the water, and gestured with a wave of her hand. “You come up, too.”

Victor jumped onto the wisteria vine. Roland’s lips curved into a smile as she applied a little force, causing the vine to swing high. Victor, as if one with the endlessly swaying wisteria, unhurriedly strolled to the princess’s side.

“Do you remember this place?” Roland asked softly, flicking her platinum-blonde hair and looking down at the silver moon in the water.

“Mm,” Victor nodded and said with a smile, “The first time I climbed up, you shook me off. I swallowed several mouthfuls of pool water and almost drowned. Not two years later, you shook Edward off, too.”

Roland giggled for a while, then said gently, “I fell in, too. My father shook me off. He also shook my mother and Catherine off… Father and Uncle Williams were shaken off by my grandfather.”

“Is this an Auguste tradition?” Victor said with a smile.

“It is,” Roland said, her face alight with a grin as she pointed to the opposite bank. “Ever since this wisteria vine climbed to the tree on the other side, every Auguste has fallen in. My grandfather was also shaken into the water by his father…” She fell silent for a moment, then said leisurely, “I never met my grandfather. He fell not long after Uncle Williams was born, having failed in his attempt to ascend to the Gold rank. He was only seventy-one at the time… Almost every Auguste Crown Prince never gets to meet their grandfather or grandmother. They try to advance too early.”

The earlier a Silver Knight attempted to brave the Elemental Sea, the greater their chance of success, but that was merely the difference between one percent and five percent. Kings with the Silver Bloodline generally waited until after they were ninety before considering the matter of advancing to Gold Knight. Roland had advanced to the Gold rank in her twenties, Ryan in his forties, and Roland’s grandfather had attempted it at seventy-one. It was clearly not normal for the Augustes to attempt to reach the Gold realm so early.

Victor couldn’t help but ask, “Why such a hurry?”

Roland sighed and shook her head. “Grand Vizier Bastern was ten years older than my father, but he looked like my grandfather. When I was little, he would come to the royal palace every day to tell me stories and play with me… He treated Edward the same way… I once saw him as my own grandfather, and Edward always thought of him as his grandfather… But Bastern was not our grandfather.”

“Ryan disliked Bastern, and he disliked every Marquess from the four great families. I later found out that while Bastern was telling me stories, he was having people slander my mother. Now, he’s used his own old life to threaten Edward and Anna’s children.”

Roland tilted her head, baring her cute little canines, and asked, “Tell me, did that old scoundrel deserve to die or not?”

Victor said flatly, “He’s already dead, in any case.”

“There has never been a shortage of Basterns. There were in the past, there are now, and there will be in the future,” Roland said, her cheeks puffed out in annoyance. “Ryan had six children. Edward and I are the youngest two. During his time as a Knight and a Silver Knight, Ryan sired two sons and two daughters with court ladies. My older brothers and sisters were taken away from Ryan when they were very young. Ryan was furious, just as furious as I am. He believed that only by becoming a Gold Knight could he do whatever he wanted. So he advanced to Gold Knight and married a common noblewoman to be the Queen of Gambis. He and Linda had me, and then he watched as Linda grew weak and died. Ryan swore to give me a future of freedom. He married Catherine, wanting to have another child to bear the responsibilities for me…”

“Do you understand how it all fits together now?”

Victor nodded silently. He understood everything now.

The Auguste family was romantic by nature, not naively so. And Roland was no simple-minded damsel. She was gifted and exceptionally intelligent, possessing a political eye and cunning that ordinary people could hardly match.

Edward’s three betrothals fully reflected the political situation in the Kingdom of Gambia.

The majesty of a Spirit Knight could not be offended. Sylvia’s sudden appearance had made the Extraordinary powerhouses of the human kingdoms take notice. The diplomatic strategy of suppression followed by appeasement was absolutely not applicable to Sylvia. Although Sylvia had revealed her identity as a Spirit Knight, Ryan had not given up on his strategy to annex the Dodor Kingdom. He made a secret agreement with Sylvia, having Edward become engaged to a noblewoman from the Joshua family and consolidating the three eastern provinces, all to create the false impression of discord between the Royal Family and the Spirit Knight in an attempt to lull external powers into a false sense of security. Unfortunately, both he and Sylvia underestimated the influence of a Spirit Knight, and he ultimately fell.

Ryan’s death caused an irreparable rift between the Auguste and York families. Aerie Fortress could only make the best of a bad situation, using the threat of the Spirit Knight to rally the kingdom’s regional lords. With the York family’s Westward Migration to the Centaur Hills, the Joshua family’s strategic importance vanished. Whether Sylvia had abducted Katerina or not, Aerie Fortress would have broken the betrothal between Edward and the Joshua family. Sylvia saw through this and conveniently snatched Katerina away. Aerie Fortress used the Nim family in the west as a buffer against Sylvia and the Wellington family in the south-central region as the main force to counter the York family. Margaret naturally replaced Katerina.

Sylvia was also using external pressure to consolidate power within the York family. She wanted to first establish a stable and orderly political structure before absorbing external forces and calmly growing her own strength. But Victor’s appearance changed the developmental trajectory of the human kingdoms.

The new agropastoral system eased the fundamental contradictions in human society, making the great expansion possible. Sylvia realized that the York family’s strength alone would be insufficient to gain a firm foothold on the Southern Continent. The York family had to change its strategy and unite with the lords of the Kingdom of Gambia, both great and small. At this point, a marriage alliance between Goldwater City and Aerie Fortress was in everyone’s best interests.

As Victor carefully pieced together the course of events, he discovered that Roland had been particularly active at every key juncture. She was the one who had first proposed the marriage alliance.

It was Roland who sent Edward to visit the Centaur Hills and revealed Victor’s bloodline potential at Leopold’s Evening Banquet, all as signals of reconciliation to Sylvia and the lords of Gambis.

Duke Wellington’s cooperation with the House of Randell, prompted by Victor’s noble bloodline, had in fact altered the political landscape of confrontation between the south-central lords and the Centaur Hills. The cooperative relationship between the Wellington family and the Centaur Hills had shaken Margaret’s position as future queen. Sylvia grasped Roland’s intention; her clandestine encouragement of Audel to send Anna to Victor’s side was a speculative move, a spare piece laid down in advance for a marriage alliance with the Royal Family. Otherwise, how could she have allowed a vassal lord of the York family to question the succession rights of Enbise’s line?

The beginning of the marriage alliance occurred precisely during the period when Roland was accompanying the barbarians on their visit to the Centaur Hills.

Victor rubbed his nose and said sullenly, “Edward visited Goldwater City. After he returned, he told you about Anna. You attended the Tournament in the Centaur Hills and spoke to Sylvia about it. And because Viscount Randell is a vassal lord of Aerie Fortress, I became Anna’s guardian… In truth, you and Sylvia had a tacit understanding all along.”

Roland stretched languidly, sat down on the vine, took off her high heels, and dipped her fair little feet into the emerald pool, shattering the silver moon in the water. She pouted and asked, “Am I very selfish?”

The princess’s feet were exquisitely beautiful, delicate and well-proportioned, her skin glowing with a gentle luster under the moonlight as if carved from pristine ivory. Victor glanced at them once before unnaturally looking away.

Roland kicked her jade-white calves, her cheeks flushing red. Her eyes shimmered as she asked with seductive charm, “Want to touch them?”

“Yes… uh.”

The moment the word left his mouth, Victor wanted to slap himself in regret.

“I won’t let you,” Roland said, hiding her feet in the water and looking at the mortified Victor with a grin.

Victor shook his head and chuckled in spite of himself. “Is it fun teasing me?”

“Not as fun as it used to be.”

Roland smiled, then changed the subject. “Be good to Catherine. I know she was the first person you liked, because she wasn’t a high-ranking knight back then and couldn’t influence your will.”

Victor was silent for a moment before asking, “Why are you telling me all this?”

“You, you…” Roland jumped up, planting her hands on her slender waist, and said imposingly, “In any case, I am your tutor. Is it so difficult for me to ask you to take care of Catherine and Edward in the future?”

Victor smiled and bowed. “As you wish… Your Highness, my Tutor.”

Roland reached out and ruffled Victor’s black hair, saying with satisfaction, “Mm, now that’s the obedient student I raised.”

Chapter 441: The Coming Freezing Rain

Stonetooth City, Poor District, Crippled Dog Tavern.

The cold Season of Water was the busiest time of year for taverns. Refugees, after a busy half-year, finally had some money to spare and enough leisure time to seek out some entertainment. Cunning tavern owners would use ale, food, gambling games, tender-skinned waitresses, and a rare warmth to empty every last foul-smelling coin from their refugee customers’ pockets.

Four towering, burly men stood with their arms crossed, guarding the oaken main door of the Crippled Dog Tavern, their grim, predatory gazes fixed on the passersby. The vicious dogs at their feet bared their sharp teeth and barked furiously at anyone who approached. Pedestrians on the street gave them a wide berth, taking care to detour around the tavern’s entrance, while those who were genuine patrons immediately turned and chose to visit other establishments upon seeing the scene.

An uninformed person might think the tavern’s owner had gotten into trouble and was being suppressed by a gang, preventing him from doing a single piece of business during the peak season.

Such things were common. Prosperous taverns and inns always attracted the jealousy of their competitors, and this line of business was inextricably linked with the underworld.

The Crippled Dog Tavern was different. It was the largest, best, and most fair tavern in Stonetooth City’s Poor District; no ruffian dared to cause trouble here. That was because it was also a stronghold for the Stonetooth City Thieves’ Guild.

For the last three days of the second month of the Season of Water each year, the Crippled Dog Tavern did not do business with the public. Gang leaders from all over Stonetooth City gathered here to exchange intelligence, discuss the division of territory, and pay their tribute to the Magistrate’s Office. The topics they discussed involved theft, fraud, robbery, armed brawls, human trafficking, and murder incidents that occurred in Stonetooth City, so naturally, outsiders could not be allowed to listen in.

The tavern was bustling with activity. Over a hundred vicious-looking thugs and enforcers packed the great hall on the ground floor. They didn’t have to pay for their food, drink, and entertainment for these three days; the gang leaders had already paid their tribute to the Magistrate’s Office and didn’t mind spending a little extra to buy the loyalty of their trusted enforcers.

The aroma of ale mingled with the stench of sweat. The men’s wild laughter and angry curses were interspersed with the shrieks and giggles of the waitresses. The tavern owner, Caspar, watched the reveling crowd with a smile, the noisy environment causing him to miss the whimpering of the vicious dogs outside, until the heavy oaken door was shoved open with great force.

A tall, slender figure stood in the blast of cold wind. He looked to be a young man of about twenty, his entire body clad in metal scale armor. Three massive, crisscrossing scars marred his face, almost severing his high-bridged nose and twisting his once-handsome features into a ghastly, demonic visage. His gaze was sharp, like a cold blade that could slice a man’s throat. Where he looked, a dead silence fell, and the noisy tavern became as quiet as a graveyard.

The young man carried a sheathed longsword and walked towards the bar. The crowded throng of people immediately parted to form a path for him. A brawny, middle-aged soldier in dark blue chainmail followed behind him, his war boots leaving a trail of bloody footprints that faded with each step.

“The Ghostface Knight!”

An enforcer attending the thieves’ gathering for the first time, having realized something, couldn’t help but cry out in alarm. The companion beside him suddenly shot out a brawny arm, grabbed him by the hair, and viciously slammed his head against a wooden table with a loud thump. He then skillfully stuffed the unconscious fool under the table. The surrounding ruffians acted as if they had seen nothing, maintaining the silence in the tavern.

First, Lord Knight Clark did not like people mentioning “Ghostface.” Second, he was truly a Knight.

This was a conclusion the thieves of Stonetooth City had reached at the cost of six lives.

The tavern owner, Caspar, poured two glasses of Green Wheat Ale with an obsequious smile and offered them to Clark and his capable subordinate, Ron. He said solicitously, “My lord, this is a new malt ale. The taste is quite unique. Please, have a taste.”

Clark placed his longsword on the bar, picked up the glass, and took a sip, only to find the liquor bitter and harsh, difficult to swallow. He spat it out, stared at the white foam in the glass, and said in a low, hoarse voice, “Disgusting.”

The soldier, Ron, however, silently drained his entire glass of Green Wheat Ale. Caspar noticed large, dark red bloodstains on Ron’s refined iron chainmail, and the corner of his eye twitched involuntarily. If the bloody footprints Ron had left on the floor were from the dogs, then the bloodstains on his armor were definitely human.

Knight Clark was specially tasked by the Magistrate’s Office with eliminating roving bandits in the marquess’s domain. He had clearly just returned from a mission, his chest still brimming with killing intent. Caspar smelled the sweet, cloying scent of blood, and his scalp tightened. He explained in a subservient tone, “My lord, we’ve been out of Purple Cane wine for a month. We really don’t have any better wine.”

“Hmph. Have Lucy and Jenny prepare hot water. I’m going back to my room to bathe.” Clark gave the order, picked up his longsword, and started for the second floor with Ron.

About five months ago, the Crippled Dog Tavern had received four uninvited guests, led by the very same Ghostface Clark. He rented three rooms with fireplaces, monopolized the two prettiest waitresses, and feasted on fine food and meat every day. But after staying for over ten days, he refused to pay a single Copper Sol. The tavern owner ran a fair business, but he was no saint. He had his ways of dealing with customers who ate, drank, and whored for free. Once the waitresses had figured out their background and found their wallet containing a full forty-eight Gold Sols, Caspar decided to handle things according to the rules: take their money pouch and sell them into hard labor in the mines.

That night, a dozen fierce and powerful gang enforcers burst into Clark’s private room, and six of them were killed on the spot. Seeing the situation spiral out of control, Caspar quickly called for the magistrate’s guards outside to suppress them. Unflustered, Clark produced a sheepskin document. The attitudes of the magistrate’s guards, who had been as fierce as wolves and tigers, changed dramatically. They respectfully escorted him and his men to the Magistrate’s Office.

The Thieves’ Guild made inquiries overnight. When Caspar learned that Clark was actually a noble Knight, he was nearly scared to death. What he hadn’t expected was that “Lord Clark” would return the very next morning and move back into his original room, with Jenny and Lucy becoming his personal handmaidens. From then on, he treated the Crippled Dog Tavern as his own home, eating and living there for free right up to the present day.

Caspar was bewildered. Shouldn’t a noble lord like a Knight live in a villa in the Nobles’ District? At the very least, he could choose an inn in the Vassal District. Why would Knight Clark insist on staying in the Poor District? Caspar didn’t dare ask, and neither did the Stonetooth City Thieves’ Guild, because Clark was now a Magistrate’s Captain, specifically responsible for leading men to wipe out bandit camps in the marquess’s domain. Every time he went out for half a month, he would return covered in blood. Of his four soldier retainers, only Ron remained. The Thieves’ Guild had used its connections to confirm that Knight Clark had personally killed at least sixty-seven ferocious bandits. Over time, the name “Ghostface Knight” began to spread throughout the underworld of Stonetooth City.

Before heading upstairs, Clark glanced at the trembling thugs and enforcers, a sense of contempt rising in his heart.

He believed his current strength was a match for most initial-rank Knights, but he wasn’t arrogant enough to think he could take on a hundred men alone. In truth, there were quite a few skilled fighters among these ruffians. If they swarmed him, heedless of their own lives and using the narrow space to their advantage, they might well be able to take him down by sacrificing a dozen or so of their own. But in the face of a Knight, the ruffians had not a shred of fighting spirit. It was like a flock of sheep, no matter how numerous, could never kill a lone wolf; they would only become prey for its claws.

Of course, the main reason the gang ruffians revered the Ghostface Knight was that he was one of Magistrate Wamon’s men. Every thieves’ guild had to rely on the power of the Magistrate’s Office to survive. In the eyes of the Stonetooth City gangs, the Ghostface Knight could be considered one of their own.

The Ghostface Knight was none other than Tao De. He had managed to attract the attention of Stonetooth City’s magistrate, Wamon, and successfully infiltrated the Magistrate’s Office. But Lord Wamon hadn’t assigned him a post within the city. Instead, he had sent him out to do the dirty work—wiping out the freemen camps in the marquess’s domain.

The freemen camps were, in reality, bandit camps. They illicitly harvested the domain’s wild resources and robbed and killed passing refugees, making them absolutely vicious. However, the freemen camps had their own backers. Just as the city’s Thieves’ Guild answered to the Magistrate’s Office, the freemen bandits in the wilderness were deeply entangled with the garrison. The refugee camps could help the garrison monitor the situation in the wilderness, limit the activity of monsters, and raid caravans and travelers who didn’t take the official roads.

Leading the magistrate’s guards to wipe out the bandit camps, Tao De had met with fierce resistance. Three of the four Mystic Warriors Viscount Randell had given him had died. He realized that the magistrate of Stonetooth City had not coordinated things with the garrison commander at all; he had been swept up in an internal struggle between the Magistrate’s Office and the garrison. Tao De couldn’t think of a second possibility other than Magistrate Wamon using him, the newcomer, as a scapegoat. However, Tao De didn’t care about the magistrate’s schemes. He had been living in Stonetooth City’s den of thieves for several months and had already investigated everything he needed to.

Just as Tao De was informing Baritt to close the net, he received a new order. Baritt demanded that he lie low for the time being and investigate the deployment of military forces in Stonetooth City, road patrols within the domain, the defensive arrangements of outposts, and the locations of bandit camps.

This order was both thrilling and terrifying for Tao De. Earl Ludwig’s procession was passing through Stonetooth City at this very moment; it was highly likely that Lord Randal was plotting something big. The thought that he could contribute to his master’s grand endeavor made Tao De immensely excited. As for the possibility of being silenced by his master, he disdained to even think about it. From the moment he swallowed the Gold Potion, Tao De had placed his life on the gambling table of the House of Randell. He would bet his loyalty on a glorious future.

Once a true gambler had placed his bet, he would never think of taking it back.

After a hot bath and a change of clothes, Tao De hurried to the Magistrate’s Office with Ron.

Magistrate Wamon received him immediately. After listening to his mission report, Lord Wamon asked in a gentle tone, “Clark, you’ve been living in a lower-class people’s inn. It’s beneath a noble’s dignity. Why not move into the Trout Inn in the Vassal District? Or rent a small villa in the Nobles’ District. With your annual stipend of three hundred Gold Sols, if you’re a bit frugal, you can absolutely afford a villa.”

Tao De touched the scars on his face and said with a bitter smile, “My lord, I have no money…”

When Wamon Dwemic first met Tao De, he thought he was a Wild Knight. But Tao De confessed that he had once been one of Duke Erickson’s secret knights and was now a fugitive from the Dodor Kingdom. He had fled from the Centaur Hills to Stonetooth City with four soldier retainers, hoping to find a childhood companion and seek a way out for himself. But he couldn’t get in touch with his friend and could only temporarily stay in a lower-class inn. Subsequently, Wamon found the companion Tao De spoke of—Scribe Keli from Stonetooth City’s Administrative Hall. Keli confirmed Tao De’s identity to Wamon.

Considering Tao De’s exquisite sword skills and the fact that he was a senior apprentice knight who could resonate with eleven Elemental Nodes, Lord Wamon, after receiving Marquess Dwemick’s approval, took him in. He even forged a new identity for him, changing his name to Clark.

Clark was highly obedient, never failing to carry out orders to eliminate bandits, and he didn’t complain in the slightest even after three of his retainers died. Coupled with his strength, which was no weaker than an initial-rank Knight’s, Wamon began to entertain the idea of winning him over.

The magistrate mulled it over for a moment before asking, “Clark, do you know how refugee bandits and gang leaders build their power?”

Tao De shook his head and said, “I’ve never considered this question.”

“A Magistrate’s Captain should consider this question.” Wamon said with a smile, “When you have ten refugees willing to kill for you, you can control sixty refugees. If you have thirty refugees who obey your orders, you can control three hundred bandits. All gang leaders and bandit chiefs need to do is keep their claws happy.”

“Destroying them is also easy. Just kill the leader and a few of his claws, and the gang or bandit group will naturally fall apart.” Wamon paused, then continued, “We nobles are different. We manage a family. If the head of the family dies, he still has an heir. The family remains, and the power is unchanged. That is why we value family, spouses, brothers, and children.”

“I know what you’re thinking.” Wamon made a gesture over his own face and said, “Save up a sum of money, buy a Regeneration Potion, and ask a priest to help you restore your noble face, then restore your reputation… A single Regeneration Potion is worth eight thousand Gold Sols. Even I can’t afford it. Can you?”

“This…”

“If you had that kind of money, you’d be better off buying a Vigor Potion and trying to break through to the Knight rank. But you still can’t afford it.” Wamon spread his hands and shook his head. “In this matter, I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

Tao De remained silent, his eyes filled with unwillingness. Wamon chuckled and said, “Didn’t you ruin your own face to evade capture? If you restored your face, even the Marquess couldn’t continue to protect you. How would you restore your reputation? As for the Vigor Potion, you basically have no hope of getting one either.”

“My lord, your meaning is?” Tao De asked hesitantly.

“Start over with the identity of Clark. Forget about your noble face.” Wamon shook his head, then changed the subject. “Aren’t you curious why I would send people to wipe out freemen camps during the Season of Water?”

“My lord, I come from a background of secret knights. I only know to obey orders and not ask why,” Tao De said respectfully.

“I am very satisfied with your attitude, but I must still tell you the reason.”

Wamon stood up, walked to the window, and gazed at the streets of Stonetooth City. He said slowly, “Starting with my grandfather, our family has always served as the magistrate of Stonetooth City. The soldiers of the Magistrate’s Office are all sons of my family’s vassals. In the past few months, we have destroyed three freemen camps. You lost three retainers, and my soldiers suffered thirty-seven casualties. I paid a great price for the sake of acquiring more fiefdoms.”

“The mountainous land occupied by the refugee bandits was originally useless, but things are different now. My vassals only need to build three stream reservoirs to establish three villages, expanding my lordship’s territory to five hundred and eighty square kilometers. However, those refugee bandits obey Commander Malte. If I don’t strike first, the Marquess will most likely grant that land to the Malte family.”

“Speaking of which, you’re the only outsider in the Magistrate’s Office. However, you fought bravely in battle and protected many of the magistrate’s guards. They’ve spoken quite highly of you in my presence.” Wamon turned around and said flatly, “Pledge your loyalty to me, and I’ll give you a village and marry my niece to you. Although she is just an ordinary noblewoman, she will not be repulsed by your face.”

Tao De knelt on one knee, saying with “excitement,” “I am willing to die for my lord’s service!”

Whether or not this scapegoat would be thrown out was still uncertain. How could he possibly accept his pledge of fealty so quickly?

Magistrate Wamon stepped forward to pull Tao De up, laughing heartily. “There’s no rush to swear your fealty to me… I have a task for you.”

“My lord, please just give the order.”

“Earl Ludwig hasn’t left yet, and Marchioness Wimbledon has already arrived at the border of our family’s domain. She’s brought three hundred guards and a large caravan of six hundred people. She also has a dozen or so barbarian followers, and it’s said one of them is a Gold rank barbarian Berserker…” Wamon shook his head and sighed. “The Marquess has demanded that the family’s armies be on full alert, but the Golden Dawn Sparrow Earl is unwilling to meet with Marchioness Wimbledon and insists on departing ahead of schedule. That fellow Malte refuses to escort Earl Ludwig, saying the City Defense Garrison must coordinate with the Marquess’s military deployments.”

The magistrate sneered. “As if I don’t know what he’s thinking! You’ve dispersed three camps of bandits. Those refugees have lost their livelihood; they’ll either come to Wamon City for the winter or fight to seize the lairs of other bandits. When Earl Ludwig sees that the roads in the marquess’s domain are unsafe, Malte will definitely take the opportunity to speak ill of the Magistrate’s Office in front of the Marquess! If chaos breaks out in Stonetooth City, it will be my responsibility as well.”

Tao De’s heart pounded, but he feigned composure and asked, “My lord, do you mean for me to escort Earl Ludwig?”

“You?” Wamon shot him a glance and laughed contemptuously. “That face of yours won’t do, and your status is insufficient… I will personally escort the Golden Dawn Sparrow Earl!” Then, he clapped Tao De on the shoulder and said, “The Ghostface Knight has a fearsome reputation; all the thief-chiefs in Stonetooth City know you. I’m taking the elite forces of the Magistrate’s Office with me, so I’m leaving the security of Stonetooth City in your hands. If those roving bandits and refugees cause any trouble in Stonetooth City, I will hold you solely responsible!”

“My lord, rest assured! I will never bring shame upon the Magistrate’s Office!” Tao De said, offering a solemn Knight’s salute with a loud promise.

Wamon nodded in satisfaction and waved his hand. “I’m not leaving you with many men. Go back to the Crippled Dog Tavern and prepare… The freezing rain is about to fall. We can’t have too many refugees dying in Stonetooth City.”

“Clark will not disappoint you, my lord.” Tao De bowed and took his leave.

He walked out of the Magistrate’s Office, looked up at the leaden, cloud-filled sky, and chuckled softly to the Lithe Ape militiaman, Ron, “It seems this freezing rain over House DeWeimik won’t be a small one.”

Chapter 442: Tonight and Tomorrow Night

The north of Gambis has many mountains and little land; the south of Dodor has little land and many mountains.

In the southeastern part of the Dodor Kingdom, the Marquess Dwemick’s fief was encircled by mountains and covered in dense forests. The geography was complex, and the population was distributed unevenly. The central region, with its abundant water and fertile soil, was densely populated, while the surrounding deep valleys and thick woods were sparsely inhabited, often haunted by fierce beasts and monsters.

Because of the war, the people of northern Dodor had been turned into refugees by the ravages of the Sasanian iron hooves. Carrying their families and leaving their homes, they migrated toward the central and southern parts of the kingdom. House DeWeimik, responding to the call of the King and the Church, settled a portion of these people, but many refugees remained in the wilderness. They relied on streams and mountain springs, building fortified camps for self-preservation and surviving by growing vegetables, gathering herbs, hunting, and logging. Faced with both internal and external pressures, the southeastern lords adopted a policy of appeasement toward these refugees who occupied the mountain forests—neither recognizing their claims nor driving them out, instead using trade and the Church’s influence to control them.

Gradually, many freemen’s camps of varying sizes appeared in the remote areas of Marquess Dwemick’s fief. The smaller camps housed only two or three hundred people, while the larger ones had nearly a thousand. Although the lord staunchly refused to recognize the legality of the refugee camps, the freemen within them always maintained contact with the outside world, even assisting the lord’s army in clearing out monster lairs in the wilderness and combating cross-border caravans and bandit miners. For a long time, the refugee camps and the local villages coexisted peacefully, forming a symbiotic, cooperative relationship.

In the past year, the relationship between the two sides suddenly took a sharp downturn. The legal villagers of the fiefdom began to resent the refugees living in the wilderness. They exploited the refugee camps’ accumulated wealth by raising the prices of food and daily necessities. If refugee hunters expanded their hunting and gathering territories, they would be pursued by the militia. The lord’s garrison also abandoned its patrol routes in the remote areas and no longer provided weapon supplies to the refugee camps. The refugees’ lives became increasingly difficult, and conflicts with the local villagers were incessant. Cries to exterminate the “bandits” grew louder and louder throughout the fief.

Through marriage ties with the locals, the refugee camps learned that the villagers had mastered the technology for building stream reservoirs and terraced fields, as well as for raising wild boars. They had set their sights on the land occupied by the refugees and wanted to drive all the outsiders away. The head priest of the fief also told the refugee representatives that the war in the north was over, and the Church would organize their return to their homeland in batches to rebuild their homes.

The refugees in the Dwemick fief had lived on this land for nearly a century and had long forgotten their northern homeland. Though they were a hundred times unwilling, they could only silently accept the arrangements of the lord and the Church.

However, the village lords lacked patience; they were eager to seize the land. Within half a year, the Stonetooth City Magistrate’s Office and the garrison, under the pretext of exterminating bandits, had stormed five refugee camps. The lord’s army’s anti-bandit operations left the refugees in a state of panic. The leaders of a dozen camps took the initiative to collude with nearby village heads, leading their families and trusted henchmen to help the militia disband the refugee camps.

Over four thousand refugees were left homeless. Most of them flocked to the shantytowns of Stonetooth City, while some desperate men with blood on their hands fled toward the more remote mountains, attempting to blend into other camps to escape the militia’s pursuit.

A small camp in a hidden valley in the northern part of the marquess’s fief welcomed a group of uninvited, malevolent guests. At first, there were only a few dozen of them. They smashed the camp’s gate, subdued the refugee leader with force, and over the next several days, hundreds more outsiders streamed into the camp.

The camp’s residents discovered in terror that these men were no mere refugee bandits, but a troop of elite soldiers. They were all valiant-looking men with sharp eyes and nimble movements, equipped with fine armor and weapons. Almost every one of them carried a strong bow or crossbow, a long spear and a sharp sword, and wore leather armor and battle boots. Some were even dressed as heavy infantry, equipped with chainmail, kite shields, and one-handed poleaxes.

Even the slowest person knew that these soldiers did not come with good intentions. Fortunately, they did not engage in wanton killing, merely controlling the camp’s residents and providing them with daily food. But those who tried to escape were, without exception, slain on the spot, their heads hung up as a warning. Under the threat of death, the camp’s residents chose to submit.

In the center of the camp, a newly built small wooden building now stood. Inside, the leaders of the soldiers were discussing a surprise attack.

“According to our intelligence, Stonetooth City’s magistrate, Wamon, is leading four apprentice knights, eighty cavalry, and one hundred infantry to escort Earl Horace’s convoy. Earl Horace’s total force currently includes four knights, eight apprentice knights, and two hundred and eighty elite soldiers. Additionally, they can temporarily arm eighty servants to act as light archers. If all goes as expected, this force will enter our attack range within a day. Five days from now, we must catch up to them and launch a surprise attack. Our food supplies will only last for three days,” explained Baritt, the commander of the Randall family’s Bear Company.

“Over three hundred enemy soldiers, more than we expected, including one hundred and eighty cavalry… I don’t think Lord Randal’s mountain folk hunters can handle them alone. Can the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild send more elite troops?” The speaker was Oro, a secret knight from Rose Manor.

In Oro’s view, although the Randall family’s mountain folk mercenaries were numerous and of decent quality, they lacked experience fighting alongside knights and could easily be routed by an enemy knight squad. If they scattered in battle, they would not only fail to support the knights but would also endanger them. Oro would have preferred the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild to assemble more guards for this operation. The raid was about to begin, yet the guild had only gathered ninety-seven armed guards. Such a small number was insufficient to hold the line for four hundred mountain folk mercenaries, let alone provide cover for the Rose Knights. Oro was deeply dissatisfied with this.

Nikolai, the Sabertooth Tiger Knight, gave a bitter smile and said with difficulty, “We’ve done our best… The Sabertooth Tiger’s elite forces are mostly concentrated around my master. Marquess Dwemick’s men are watching my master’s caravan very closely. They can’t get away. For now, we can only rely on Lord Narsen’s mountain folk mercenaries to carry out the raid.”

Oro shook his head and said coolly, “As long as the knights don’t fall, the knight squad won’t collapse. As long as the knight squad doesn’t collapse, even if the soldiers temporarily retreat, they can quickly regroup and charge again. If the knights don’t have elite retainers to coordinate with, they have no chance of victory against an enemy knight squad. The Sabertooth Tigers have brought three knights and six apprentice knights, and those ninety-seven guards are your personal entourages. If no one provides cover for the Rose Knights, we can only act as Lady Trisley’s retinue and carry out a decapitation strike.”

“That’s how it should be,” Nikolai nodded, pointing at the map on the table. “This is a medium-sized outpost of the DeWeimik family. It has four arrow towers and fifteen-meter-high stone walls, with a permanent garrison of forty soldiers. Earl Horace’s convoy will definitely rest here for the night, but a medium-sized outpost can’t accommodate over four hundred people. Earl Horace’s retinue and common soldiers will have to camp outside the outpost. At that point, their knight squad will be separated from their regular soldiers by the outpost. We can attack Earl Horace’s convoy at night. Once their knights come out to support, we’ll charge in. With Lady Trisley present, Earl Horace won’t escape even if he grows wings!”

Baritt frowned and asked, “My lord, what if Earl Horace and his men refuse to come out and defend their position?”

Nikolai said dismissively, “This outpost only has two drawgates, and fifteen-meter stone walls are no obstacle for a knight. If Earl Horace holds his ground, once we’ve routed his soldiers, you can block the gates. We Sabertooth Tiger Knights will follow Lady Trisley and the Rose Knights to break through from the walls, then open the gates from the inside, and you can all charge in.”

Baritt shook his head and pointed at the map. “Fifteen kilometers from this outpost, there’s a village with over two thousand people. If Earl Horace lights the outpost’s beacon tower, he only needs to hold out for the time it takes two large hourglasses to run out to receive reinforcements of at least six hundred militiamen. Moreover, the outpost is located beside the road, which is perfect for a cavalry charge.” He looked up, stared at Nikolai, and asked in a low voice, “Even if we kill Earl Horace, how are my men supposed to escape the pursuit of the DeWeimik cavalry in this open terrain?”

Nikolai coughed, looking slightly embarrassed. “My master, uh… I mean, our mistress, Lady Randell, will grant compensation to the warriors who make the sacrifice.”

“No! My master ordered me to lead the Bear Company, not to use them as sacrifices!” Baritt shot back stiffly.

“Then what’s your idea?” Nikolai asked, displeased.

“A noble’s convoy is large and bloated, moving slowly, covering forty kilometers a day at most. It’s the rainy season now, so Earl Horace’s convoy will inevitably have to camp on high ground for the night to avoid the rain.” Baritt’s smile was grim. “Mountainous terrain restricts cavalry mobility, messenger ravens can’t fly at night, and campfires don’t count as beacon fires. They’ll be isolated and helpless, perfect for our surprise attack.”

“They’ll also have the high ground, waiting at ease for our exhausted forces. They could pin your men down with just bows and crossbows… Fight like that? Heh, retreating would be very convenient, though.”

Nikolai sneered and turned to Narsen. “Your Lordship, what do you say?”

Narsen laughed heartily, his voice booming. “If you ask me, you all can just watch from the sidelines!”

Nikolai and Oro were worried the mountain folk mercenaries would be routed by Earl Horace’s army, but while the Randall family’s Mystic Warriors could be annihilated, they would never break. At least, Narsen believed his family’s Mystic Warriors were fearless.

How strong is an army that doesn’t break? One could look at the performance of the Ant-men for reference.

Narsen had once asked Tournans: could a Gold Knight, by himself, kill one thousand Ant-men?

Tournans had replied that a Gold Knight, by making full use of time and space, could slowly kill not just one thousand, but even ten thousand Ant-men. The problem was, an Ant-man chief wouldn’t let a Gold Knight do as he pleased. If a Gold Knight was surrounded by an army of Ant-men, one thousand of them would be more than enough to overwhelm him.

For Lord Randal’s mission, Baritt had assembled four hundred Bear Company mercenaries, including two hundred Mystic Warriors and fifty Elite Guards. Although the Mystic Warriors trained by the House of Randell were only about as strong as regular elite soldiers individually, the combat prowess of the Elite Guards was comparable to that of senior apprentice knights.

If they couldn’t even defeat Earl Horace’s guard detachment with this force, Narsen might as well just bash his head against a wall and die.

Narsen’s almost blind confidence left Nikolai and Oro staring at each other in astonishment. After a moment of contemplation, Nikolai stood up, bowed to Trisley, and asked, “My lady, we await your command.”

Trisley, clad in a suit of ladies’ Mithril armor, was leaning against the window, watching the Bear Company mercenaries outside with great interest. After a moment, without turning her head, she asked softly, “Victor must have poured a lot of heart and soul into the Bear Company, hasn’t he?”

Narsen exchanged a glance with Baritt and spoke up, “The core of the Bear Company consists of the first mountain folk hunters who followed our Master. They experienced the Ant-man war in the Randell Fief, have been training in my Spirit Monkey Mystic Form for four and a half years, and take three expensive Body-strengthening Potions every month. We then selected over two hundred of the best hunters from nearly ten thousand mountain folk across more than forty strongholds in Gambis. That’s how we have the Bear Company of today.”

Trisley had been startled when she first saw the Bear Company mercenaries. If not for their distinct mountain folk hunter characteristics, she would have thought they were elite soldiers cultivated by one of the great families. For instance, they had thick calluses on their feet, moved silently, were taciturn, and were accustomed to communicating with hand gestures. Only their leaders spoke with outsiders. They were skilled with bows and traps, proficient in wilderness survival techniques, and generally had no faith. Most frighteningly, they could build defensive fortifications and use resources from the wilderness to create poisons, hemostatic potions, bows, crossbows, javelins, and even fine greatbows and vine-hide armor.

The Bear Company was an army that could cross mountains and ridges, be self-sufficient, and continuously replenish its ranks!

Setting aside the mountain folk mercenaries’ actual combat ability, the fact that Victor possessed the Bear Company meant he could use mountain paths to attack or support any lord!

Previously, Trisley would certainly have been suspicious of Victor’s intentions, but now… Isn’t my man’s army my army?

Trisley was truly reluctant to let the Bear Company fight a war of attrition. But on second thought, she realized that the Golden Company and the Bear Company were complementary; wherever the Golden Company went, the Bear Company could establish mountain folk strongholds. Victor had handed over the Golden Company, so the Bear Company had lost its source of funds and external support. Victor could only order the Bear Company to help Sophia fight a tough battle, as only then would Sophia be willing to continue funding them.

Narsen’s words confirmed Trisley’s suspicions. With her back to the others and a smile on her lips, she thought to herself, That man is full of schemes.

Seeing Trisley remain silent, Narsen waited for a moment before taking the initiative. “My lady, my master instructed me that it’s best not to ask for your help… to avoid bringing you unnecessary trouble and danger.”

Narsen’s true intention was to prevent the Raging Wave Knight from participating in the raid, lest she discover the secrets of the Elite Guards and Mystic Warriors in battle. Trisley, however, heard only Victor’s concern for her. Her smile grew even more tender, her large, pale blue eyes curving into crescents.

Trisley looked up at the dark, heavy sky and said faintly, “It’s raining.”

As soon as she spoke, a drop of rain hit the window frame, and then the pitter-patter of rain began outside. Trisley turned around, her expression calm, and asked, “This won’t be a light rain; it will last at least until tonight. Earl Horace’s convoy will surely make camp to shelter from the rain. If we set out now, about when can we expect to run into them?”

Baritt answered without hesitation, “We’ll need at least half a day to travel. Then we can rest until the second half of the night and launch our raid!”

Trisley nodded and gave her orders. “From now on, the Sabertooth Tiger and Rose Knights will obey Lord Narsen’s commands. I will take only two Rose Knights and ten of my family’s Mystic Warriors to operate on the periphery of the battlefield. If Earl Horace and his men attempt to retreat from any other direction, I will personally take his life. But if he tries to break through the front line…”

Narsen’s eyes burned as he said in a cold voice, “Leave him to me.”

“Then let’s move out.”

Baritt strode out of the house and blew forcefully into a strangely shaped whistle. As a howl like a wolf’s echoed through the forest, the entire camp came to life.

Nikolai ran to catch up with Narsen in the rain. “Your Lordship, what should we do with the refugees in the camp?”

“My master dislikes killing the innocent…”

Narsen grinned. “That’s why the mountain folk and refugees in the Bear Company are willing to serve him.”

“Leave a few dozen men to watch them until the second half of the night, then let them flee for their lives.”

Tao De trod along the muddy path, strolling through the shantytowns of Stonetooth City. The rain was getting heavier, but he had no intention of taking shelter, merely pulling up the hood of his cloak to cover his hair.

Lord Wamon had repeatedly claimed that he was temporarily in charge of Stonetooth City’s security, but the magistrate’s guards didn’t take orders from him at all. All Tao De could do was rely on the fearsome reputation of Ghostface to occasionally wander through the shantytowns, intimidating the restless refugee bandits. If the refugees were to riot, of course, the responsibility would still fall on him.

A raven in the sky, seemingly unable to withstand the force of the freezing rain, circled a few times before landing on the roof of a shanty. Ron pulled his gaze away from the raven and approached Tao De, whispering, “Our people have arrived.”

A stir went through Tao De’s heart. Pretending to seek shelter from the rain, he hurried to the shanty and slipped inside. In the cramped, damp shack, a tallow candle was lit. By its dim, yellow light, Tao De saw five men. Among them was a familiar face—the round-faced assassin, Fitch.

Fitch grinned at Tao De, then he and two other middle-aged men tumbled out of the shanty as if they had been kicked out by Ghostface.

Inside the shanty, a middle-aged man with graying hair and an aquiline nose said softly, “I am Barol.”

Tao De thought for a moment, then bowed slightly. “What are my lord’s instructions?”

“To catch Shadow of the Masked Brotherhood, of course.”

Barol smiled. “In fact, this underground war is about to end. The master might even start cooperating with the Boreans. However, the master wishes to understand the secrets of the Masked Brotherhood. So we must capture their key figures before they disappear.”

Tao De frowned. “That’s a bit difficult… Although I have identified a few targets, I can’t be sure who Shadow is—the one who controls the Masked Brotherhood’s messaging methods. The most likely suspect lives in a courtyard near the Nobles’ District, and that area is a key patrol zone for the magistrate’s guards. I can’t mobilize the magistrate’s guards at the moment to create an opportunity for you to make the arrest.”

Barol nodded. “House DeWeimik’s vassals are rushing to drive out the refugee bandits to seize land, causing turmoil and chaos in the fief. The transition between the old and new order is inevitable, but it gives us a chance to fish in troubled waters… You may have already guessed that a major event is about to happen in the Dwemick fief.”

Tao De shook his head with some regret. “A pity I couldn’t personally take part in this major event.”

“You are a man of Quicksilver. Quicksilver has its own mission.”

Barol continued, “Without Quicksilver’s help, that lord would have had a hard time sneaking several hundred men in without the DeWeimik family finding out. Of course, this is mainly to your credit; the intelligence you provided was a great help. Now, I want to do you a great favor, too.”

“Help me?”

“Yes.” Barol nodded. “The master thinks highly of you, and so do I. you have achieved what I could not. Quicksilver needs a noble knight as its leader, or we won’t be able to keep up with the family’s pace. Quicksilver should be led by you. This is why I risked meeting you.”

Tao De said, almost to himself, “This is also what I need…” He looked up and asked in a low voice, “How do you plan to help me?”

“Tomorrow night, Marquess Dwemick will host a banquet for our mistress. I can guarantee they won’t receive the bad news until tomorrow night. Then I will incite the refugee bandits who have infiltrated the shantytowns to start a massive brawl. That will keep the Magistrate’s Office and the Thieves’ Guild busy.”

Tao De nodded. “I understand… How many men have you prepared for me?”

Barol glanced at Ron and said with a smile, “Thirty good men like Ron are all at your disposal. I’ve also prepared over sixty more mercenaries for you, who are practically indistinguishable from the refugee bandits.”

“That’s enough.”

Tao De’s lips curved into a smile as grim as a ghost’s.

Chapter 443: A Bout of Life and Death

In the dead of night, Horra Ludwig was sleeping soundly in his luxurious, warm carriage, two female apprentice knights nestled in his arms. The frantic barking of the sentinel hounds in the distance startled him from his slumber.

Although the hounds’ barks were shrill, Horace couldn’t be bothered to open his eyes. He reached out and kneaded the fragrant, soft, and supple body in his embrace, coaxing a soft moan from his personal handmaiden. Not to be outdone, the female apprentice knight behind him wound her long, slender legs around him as well.

The sentinel hounds bred by House Ludwig were medium-sized and had little combat prowess, but their senses were exceptionally keen, especially to the blood of their own kind, making them perfect for night watch. The territory of DeWeimik was mountainous and densely forested to the north; it was perfectly normal for a nocturnal beast to attack a sentinel hound. The scout on duty would soon deal with the reckless animal.

The scout’s whistle suddenly became piercing and urgent. Horace’s eyes snapped open. The orderly sounds of activity within the camp calmed him slightly, but he still pushed away the entangled beauties, threw off the thick cashmere blanket, and stood naked on the carriage floor, commanding in a deep voice:

“Armor me.”

Earl Horace’s figure was tall and well-proportioned, his muscles taut and firm. In the hazy glow of the carriage’s crystal lamp, he looked like a sculpture brimming with power and masculine beauty. The two female apprentice knights giggled, stepped off the soft couch, and began to don their master’s armor.

They were also stark naked, and as they bent and stooped, the exquisite curves of their fair bodies were on full display. Yet Horace paid no mind to the tantalizing sight of their swaying hips and breasts. His expression was cold and serious, and he remained unmoved by the brushing and rubbing of his two handmaidens.

Before long, a sharp whistling sound approached from the distance, and Horace’s expression finally changed. A thud sounded from the roof of the carriage, immediately followed by the pained whinnying of warhorses and the agonized screams of soldiers from within the camp.

“Greatbowmen!”

Horace squeezed the word out from between his teeth. He turned his head to see that the lovely faces of his two personal handmaidens had lost all color, turning as white as paper. He smiled faintly. “Darling, don’t be afraid… Go get my Mithril armor.”

Their master’s composure gave the handmaidens immense comfort and courage. They performed with the proficiency expected of apprentice knights, lifting the bedding to drag out a heavy wooden chest. From it, they retrieved a set of silver-white heavy plate armor and skillfully began to buckle it onto Horace.

The carriage’s copper-plated wooden door was ripped from its hinges by brute force. A bone-chilling wind, carrying with it shrieks and whinnies, rushed into the warm carriage. The two handmaidens cried out in alarm and hid behind Earl Horace.

The Guardian Knight Robert instinctively glanced at the two lithe, fair-skinned bodies before his eyes shifted to Earl Horace, and he shouted, “My lord, we’re under attack!”

“Get out!”

Robert opened his mouth, then immediately jumped down from the carriage, turning his back to the door.

Horace wasn’t angry that Robert had caught a glimpse of his personal handmaidens’ nakedness. In a matter of life and death, what did two female apprentice knights who served him with their bodies matter? Horra Ludwig needed time to break through to the 25th Elemental Node, to step into the extraordinary realm, and seize a chance at survival.

His long-honed Aura was exceptionally pure. It easily resonated with the 25th Elemental Node, a node that ordinary Knights yearned for, then the 26th, the 27th… until it resonated with the 28th Elemental Node, where the surging Aura finally subsided, unable to advance further. Horace shook his head with a hint of regret; with another five years, he could have resonated with a full thirty-two Elemental Nodes, reaching the intermediate stage of a Silver Knight. Now, he had merely perfected the initial stage. But regardless, his very state of being had undergone a qualitative change. He was no longer a mortal.

The exchange between the void element and his body allowed Horace to perceive that some three hundred and fifty meters away, approximately two hundred greatbowmen were continuously raining down conical arrows on their makeshift camp. This realization diluted the joy of his promotion to the extraordinary realm, and a heavier weight settled in Horace’s heart.

The greatbow was a formidable weapon, with a maximum firing distance of nearly four hundred and twenty meters. At two hundred and eighty meters, it could pierce hardened leather armor and padded armor, or penetrate a suit of chainmail. A direct hit within one hundred and fifty meters could not be withstood even by plate armor, and at a range of eighty meters, the armor-piercing conical arrows fired from a greatbow were virtually unstoppable.

Correspondingly, a greatbowman had to possess a strong Physique, superb skill, and a stable mentality, requiring years of arduous training to fully unleash the power of the bow and arrow.

Of course, these enemies were only using plunging fire at maximum range on a fixed camp; they couldn’t be considered professional greatbowmen. However, the implication behind them sent a chill down Horace’s spine.

Beyond three hundred and twenty meters, a greatbow had little practical value in combat. An arrow at the end of its flight had no effective killing power, let alone accuracy; even ordinary soldiers could maneuver to dodge the shots. But in the darkness, the greatbowmen didn’t need precision. They just had to use the light of the bonfires to shoot their arrows into the camp. The extreme range negated the advantage of the camp’s high ground, leaving the camp’s heavy crossbowmen with no way to retaliate. Even if the volleys of arrows had a low casualty rate, they could suppress the camp’s guards, keeping their heads down. Being attacked without being able to fight back would quickly crumble the soldiers’ morale, while the startled warhorses would scatter, causing chaos throughout the camp. Losing their horses meant they had no way to escape. Because greatbowmen never acted alone.

How many enemies were behind those two hundred greatbowmen? Six hundred? Eight hundred? And how many Knights… or High-ranked Knights did they have?

In other words, these enemies had a clear objective, possessed all the intelligence, and held overwhelming strength. Yet Horace knew nothing about them.

However, now was not the time to investigate the enemy’s identity. Horace had to find a way to save his own life.

“My lord, are you alright?” one of the personal handmaidens asked timidly.

Horace snapped back to his senses, smiling with a mix of frivolity and gentleness. “Darling, make yourselves pretty and wait in the carriage for my return.”

Cheeks blushing like a peach, the two female apprentice knights carefully fastened Horace’s Mithril gauntlets and put on his helmet. As he turned to leave the carriage, they called out in sweet voices, “May rivers of blood flow from your enemies’ bodies beneath your sword.”

“Mm.” Horace paused for a moment, grunted in acknowledgment, and stepped out of the carriage without looking back.

Seeing the faint yellow airflow flickering around Horace, Robert’s expression was complicated as he stammered, “My lord, you’ve advanced ahead of schedule…”

“Don’t worry about it, my friend. The enemy came for me. If I don’t use my full strength, wouldn’t I be doing them a disservice for going through all the trouble to come and corner me?” Horace laughed heartily and clapped Robert on the pauldron, then looked up towards the camp.

As Horace had expected, apart from a few unlucky souls who had been wounded by the first two volleys of arrows, most of the soldiers were safely sheltered behind the carriages. But the panicked horses and livestock were running wild, and some had already broken out of the camp. Fortunately, the ground was damp from the recent rain and the bonfires had been extinguished, so no fires had started. But the enemy’s long arrows were still falling into the crowded, dark camp, indicating that those greatbowmen were no ordinary archers.

Robert blocked a falling long arrow with his Adamantine shield and asked, “My lord, who is attacking us?”

“We have no priests with us… it’s most likely Marquess Sophia.” Horace shook his head, walking against the whistling rain of arrows as he spoke, “It’s pointless to wonder who the enemy is now. The key is…” He suddenly shouted, his voice a mixture of shock and fury, “Wamon Dwemic! You stop right there!”

The magistrate of Stonetooth City completely ignored Earl Horace’s enraged roar. He mounted his warhorse and led forty-odd cavalrymen, charging straight towards the direction the long arrows were coming from.

“My lord, Lord Wamon gathered a group of warhorses, saying he was going to scatter the enemy greatbowmen,” Robert explained, his voice laced with shock and uncertainty. Just a moment ago, he had been admiring Knight Wamon’s heroic feat.

“That bastard is running away!” Earl Horace said through clenched teeth. The void element surrounding his Mithril armor suddenly expanded, and the invisible force field pushed Robert back half a step.

Running away? Why would Wamon charge towards the enemy’s position? Wasn’t that suicide?

The Guardian Knight Robert was baffled, but he didn’t dare question the furious Silver Knight for an explanation.

Horace was of noble birth and had received the education of an elite commander since childhood. He had already grasped the current battle situation while still in his carriage.

The enemy had snuck up under the cover of night and launched their surprise attack from a single direction, which meant they had a limited number of forces at their disposal. This meant they couldn’t, and weren’t prepared to, annihilate everyone in the camp. Their objective was to assassinate Horace. The rain of greatbow arrows covering the camp, while looking impressive, actually inflicted limited casualties on the soldiers. Its main purpose was to scatter the warhorses, create chaos, and then allow an elite force to storm the camp. In this situation, he should organize the soldiers to defend the camp, using the carriages as cover to snipe at the enemy from their high ground on the hillside. If they could just hold out until dawn and release a Red-Eyed messenger crow, they might well turn defeat into victory.

If they were to abandon their advantageous terrain and lead the soldiers in a breakout, the soldiers would inevitably scatter in the dark, on the slippery ground, with the enemy in hot pursuit. Without the cover of his soldiers, Earl Horace would be exposed to the elemental Perception of the enemy’s High-ranked Knights.

Lord Wamon had seen through this. He knew he wasn’t the enemy’s target and had no desire to be buried with Horace. He chose to break through the enemy’s front line mainly because he was worried that extraordinary Knight squads in other directions might mistake him for Earl Horace.

The reason was simple. If the enemy had three or more High-ranked Knights, they wouldn’t have needed greatbowmen to provide covering fire; they would have already stormed the camp. So Wamon decided to take a gamble—a gamble that the enemy, in their effort to break the morale of the camp’s soldiers, would let him live.

There were still over one hundred soldiers from the Magistrate’s Office in the camp. Lord Wamon’s desertion in the face of the enemy would have a huge impact on them. Horace wouldn’t even be surprised if the enemy took the opportunity to turn them. Fighting back-to-back with them was out of the question.

Horace loathed Wamon to the bone, but he was in no mood to explain it to his subordinates, nor did he have time to hesitate. He commanded, “Mobilize all the soldiers! Abandon the horses, we fight on foot! Once Wamon scatters the enemy greatbowmen, we break through their front line!”

“Yes, my lord!” Robert roared, beat his chestplate, and ran towards the camp to relay his master’s orders.

Before long, the sounds of close-quarters combat erupted from the bottom of the slope, and the rain of arrows on the camp thinned out. Clad in Mithril armor, Horace leaped onto the roof of a carriage, drew his Mithril longsword, and bellowed, “Can a soldier of House Ludwig turn his back to the enemy?”

“Never! Never!” The roar of a hundred soldiers echoed defiantly through the valley.

“Can a Warrior of the Dodor Kingdom flee from a death in battle?”

“Never! Never!” The blood of the hundred-plus soldiers from the Magistrate’s Office boiled as they joined in the battle cry.

“Then grip your weapons and shields, take the Bloodboil Potion! Follow me, and we will crush the enemy head-on!”

Over three hundred soldiers downed their Bloodboil Potions, banged their weapons against their shields, and let out a great roar of “Kill!” Squad after squad charged out of the camp, like frenzied pythons lunging straight at the enemy in the darkness.

For soldiers in a blood-boiled state, the four-hundred-meter downhill path was covered in an instant. The darkness and their spread-out formation greatly limited the effectiveness of the greatbowmen. Still, a small number of soldiers were pierced by whistling, sharp arrows. The screams of their comrades spurred the soldiers’ courage and fury. They charged through two volleys of arrows and finally saw the shadowy figures of the enemy.

These leather-armored enemies, facing their foes at close range, issued no slogans, showed no retreat. They simply dropped their greatbows, fired a round from their crossbows, then dropped the crossbows, drew their longbows, and scattered, firing as they moved.

Mobile archery was a difficult close-quarters skill to master. An archer needed a calm mind, agile movements, and ample stamina, as well as the courage to not panic when facing an enemy at close range. Only then did the soldiers of House Ludwig realize that the enemy greatbowmen were actually elite close-combat archers.

However, a close-combat archer was a niche and often impractical unit. Almost no house would train them, with the exception of the mountain folk hunters, who lacked close-combat weapons!

The elite soldiers of House Ludwig wore steel ring mail over hardened leather armor. Although they were riddled with arrows and looked terrifying, most of their wounds were minor. Only those hit in the head, face, or throat suffered fatal injuries.

In the dim light of night, trying to maintain a distance of over fifteen meters while moving and aiming for a vital spot was no easy task.

The soldiers of House Ludwig had taken the Bloodboil Potion, greatly increasing their speed and strength. Many found their chance, lunging forward with their long spears to thrust at the close-combat archers. However, the enemy was exceptionally agile, and their leather armor was lighter and more flexible than chainmail. They could even draw their refined iron scimitars and face the shield-and-spear infantry of House Ludwig head-on. Even when impaled by a one-handed spear, they would grab the shaft piercing their body, lunge forward ferociously, and hack off the soldier’s head or arm in a backhanded swing.

The fight became a confused melee, but it was not as intense as one might imagine, and the number of casualties was not high. Horace’s soldiers and the Magistrate’s soldiers roared continuously, chasing and hacking at the enemy archers with such ferocity that they failed to even maintain their squad formations. Horace watched with growing anxiety. With a flash of his body, he cut down two close-combat archers and yelled, “Don’t get bogged down! Break through!”

Just then, three squads of heavily-armored halberd-and-shield soldiers, led by three armored Knights, charged onto the battlefield, attempting to scatter the soldiers who were trying to regroup.

Horace’s eyes lit up. He pointed his Mithril longsword at the enemy Knight squad and ordered, “Finish them!” Then, he grabbed Robert, who was turning to fight, and said quickly in a low voice, “The enemy’s High-ranked Knights haven’t shown themselves yet. We’ll use the chaos to break out!”

A Knight’s stamina and speed far outstripped that of a warhorse; retainer soldiers without mounts could never keep up with their knightly liege. From the very beginning, Horace had never intended to lead his soldiers in a breakout. The purpose of these soldiers was to cover his escape from the battlefield. Now that the enemy’s Knight squad had appeared, the forces of the High-ranked Knight responsible for intercepting them were divided. This was the perfect opportunity for Horace to lead his guardian knights in a breakout. If Horace could break through in the chaos, the enemy would have no interest in annihilating so many soldiers. Horace just needed to run for his life, and by the time the enemy’s High-ranked Knights reacted, they would be unable to catch him.

However, Earl Horace had only taken two steps with his Knights when he ran into his true opponent.

Three Knights clad in Adamantine armor, along with more than thirty soldiers, blocked their path. The one in the lead wielded two 1.6-meter-long Adamantine beheading greatswords, and his gaze from beneath his mask was like an invisible, yet tangible, steel awl.

A familiar figure emerged in Horace’s mind. He let out a long laugh, pointing his Mithril longsword at his opponent. “So it’s Lord Narsen Randall! Did you think I wouldn’t recognize you just because you aren’t using your battleaxe?”

“Heh, I can kill you with anything now,” Narsen said, flourishing the two greatswords as if they were weightless.

“Kill me? You think a mere Ferocious Warrior like you can kill a Great Knight?” Horace said with a sneer. “Your three knights are tied up with my soldiers back there. I have two Knights and six apprentice knights. And you only have two Knight helpers. Once I’ve killed you, I’ll go settle the score with Sophia!”

“A pointless probe.”

Narsen crossed ten meters in a single step, reaching Horace in three. His Adamantine beheading greatsword swung down at Horace’s head with tremendous speed. Horace channeled his Aura, the void earth element sinking into his body. His Adamantine shield shattered the air, striking the descending greatsword with a turbulent shockwave.

Horace was fully confident he could parry the Ferocious Warrior’s Downward Chop. The void earth element made the mud beneath his feet as solid as rock. A Silver Knight with an affinity for the earth element, drawing power from the earth, could never be knocked back or overwhelmed in a frontal clash. How much strength could a Ferocious Warrior muster while standing on muddy ground?

A brown Aura swirled around his Mithril longsword. He only needed to wait for Narsen to expose an opening, and he could pierce his armor and shatter his heart!

Just then, Horace heard a powerful heartbeat, like the booming of a war drum. The beheading greatsword slammed down, its power suddenly doubling, pressing the Adamantine shield down and biting deep into Horace’s Mithril pauldron, nearly cleaving him in two.

Narsen had used his Vibration Secret Art. The immense power drove the greatsword into Horace’s body. He only felt as if he were cutting through tough rock; the blade’s edge stopped just above the heart, unable to advance another inch.

Horace’s Adamantine shield was desperately blocking the heart-cleaving blow. A thin mist of blood sprayed from the horrific wound, only to be sucked back by an invisible force. He raised his head, his gaze deep and icy. The hairs on Narsen’s entire body stood on end. Without a second thought, he released the greatsword in his right hand and kicked out at Horace’s chestplate.

The furious kick failed to budge Earl Horace an inch. Narsen used the recoil to retreat rapidly.

Narsen retreated quickly, but Horace pursued even faster. The slick mud solidified under his feet, power surging through him. His Mithril longsword let out a terrifying hum as it thrust straight for Narsen’s chest.

The standard knight combat technique—Thrust!

The Knights on both sides had already clashed. It seemed no one could change Narsen’s fate. But a common soldier darted out from his side, unhesitatingly meeting the unstoppable Thrust!

Horace’s eyes looked ready to burst from their sockets. With a twist of his Mithril longsword, the soldier’s strong body was torn to shreds by the power of the void earth element. Amidst the spray of flesh and blood, a piercing violet light flashed, streaking across Earl Horace’s neck. His noble head, accompanied by a fountain of blood that shot to the sky, flew through the air and landed in the muddy filth.

The victor lives, the loser dies. Victory and defeat, life and death, all decided in a single, perilous moment.

Chapter 444: The End and the Beginning

At the crack of dawn.

The rising sun cast a dim morning light through the dense clouds, and a cold mist, surging like waves, enveloped the mountains, forests, and fields.

Narsen heaved a final shovelful of dirt and, covered in dew, leaped out of a ten-meter-wide pit. Dozens of cold corpses were arranged neatly along its edge. Mercenaries from the Bear Company had brought dry firewood and oilwood from the Dodorians’ temporary camp, laying them layer by layer at the bottom of the pit.

Baritt, along with two knights, Nikolai and Aug, walked over to Narsen’s side. He clapped him on the shoulder and said in a heavy tone, “There are seven more severely wounded brothers who probably won’t make it… I’ve prepared some poppy juice for them. It will make them more comfortable.”

Narsen was silent for a moment, then tossed the copper shovel aside and said in a gruff voice, “Then let’s wait a little longer.”

The battle had ended an hour and a half ago. Earl Horace and all his knights had been annihilated. Of his guards, forty-seven were killed in action, thirteen were gravely wounded, and twenty-four surrendered and were captured. The rest had scattered and fled. Rose Manor had lost eleven Mystic Warriors, but the Rose Knights were unharmed. The Bear Company had fifty-three mercenaries killed on the spot, seventeen seriously wounded, and thirty-two with minor injuries, with casualties approaching thirty percent of their total force.

The Sabertooth Tiger halberd-and-shield soldiers suffered the lightest losses. Apart from one who died from a stray arrow to the eye socket and eleven who received minor arrow wounds, the remaining seventy-seven were largely unscathed. Their kill count was zero.

It wasn’t that the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild guards were shirking the fight. In fact, three Sabertooth Tiger Knights and six apprentice knights had slain twenty-three enemies. One apprentice knight had even been killed by an enemy after being unfortunately struck by a stray arrow from a Bear Company mercenary.

Horace’s guards were all elite soldiers, tempered by war. They had consumed Bloodboil Potions, making their speed not much less than that of an apprentice knight. When the Sabertooth Tiger Knights’ squad charged onto the battlefield, the guards decisively abandoned their shields and refined iron one-handed spears, using only their swords to break out and scatter in all directions. The halberd-and-shield soldiers from the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence couldn’t catch them and had to be wary of the arrows flying all over the field, so it was impossible for them to have any kills. In fact, most of the Bear Company’s casualties came from their own comrades’ arrows.

In this well-prepared ambush, the side with the advantage had somehow suffered heavier casualties than their opponents. One could only say that close-combat archers were a major liability. But this was unavoidable. The Bear Company’s mercenaries, lacking chainmail and shields, were ill-suited for close-quarters combat with elite soldiers. Moreover, while individually powerful, the Alchemical humans imbued with Mystic Form were far inferior to the Dodor lord’s elite soldiers in terms of battlefield adaptability and coordination.

The Bear Company’s debut performance was less than satisfactory, but they had ultimately achieved their objective. Regardless, slaying the enemy’s knight leader was a glorious victory, especially since Earl Horace was a Silver-rank Great Knight.

However, the core members of the Bear Company, including Narsen, were believers in the Lord of Radiance. Preaching priests required their followers to treat those who could no longer resist with kindness. Narsen, following the priests’ teachings and mercenary rules, administered necessary first aid to the wounded who had surrendered and had them carried back to the temporary camp for shelter. When the Church’s priests arrived to handle the aftermath, most of these men would survive. But Narsen could not take The Bear Company’s own gravely wounded with him; he could only grant them a quick release. This was because the Bear Company was playing the part of bandits. The Church would not shelter wounded bandits who had attacked a noble. Even if the priests saved them, they would have to be handed over to Marquess Dwemick for brutal interrogation.

The Bear Company had suffered over a hundred casualties—a crippling blow—and now had to abandon their dying comrades. Narsen felt a pit in his stomach.

The old mercenary Baritt was silent for a moment, then changed the subject. “We’ve seized a full eighty sets of fine cavalry equipment from the camp, including steel ring mail, helmets, round shields, short swords, one-handed spears, crossbows, longbows… There were too many arrows and crossbow bolts to count, and oh, six military heavy crossbows.”

Narsen’s mood lifted, and he said with a smile, “With this equipment, the Bear Company can form combat squads of infantry supported by archers…” He then shook his head with a touch of regret. “It’s a shame about those warhorses. The Bear Company has no use for them for now. And we can’t take them with us.”

“We also found over twenty-seven thousand Gold Sols… Split three ways, we get nine thousand Gold Sols,” Baritt said with a grin.

Narsen’s eyes instantly lit up. He counted on his fingers, muttering, “Nine thousand? Are you sure you didn’t miscalculate?”

Nikolai, the knight from the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild, could no longer hold back and interjected, “My lord, about the money…”

“The money can be split three ways! The equipment is ours!” Narsen waved his hand and shook his head, his posture leaving no room for negotiation.

Nikolai’s mouth twitched. “The Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild wants neither the money, nor the supplies, nor the equipment… My master will pay the Bear Company their fee and compensation. I just want to ask, my lord, what are your plans for those two female apprentice knights and the thirty-odd handmaidens?”

“Female apprentice knights? What’s this about?” Narsen asked, turning to Baritt.

“They’re Earl Horace’s two personal handmaidens. They didn’t resist and led the camp’s servants and handmaidens to surrender to us, demanding treatment befitting their status,” Baritt explained with a dry cough. “You know, the mountain folk have their own rules. Whoever wins the fight gets the women and children. Those rascals can’t walk straight when they see a pretty woman, and they’re all clamoring to take them back as wives. I was just about to ask you to make a decision.”

Narsen rubbed the back of his head and smacked his lips. “Oh, I’ve seen them… They are indeed very beautiful.”

Nikolai couldn’t help but grow tense. The raid was over, but the real danger was just beginning. The Golden Dawn Sparrow Earl had been assassinated in Dwemick’s territory; Stonetooth City would be enraged. Although the nearby village militia wouldn’t dare throw their lives away by coming here, and although it was a long journey to Stonetooth City—a full day’s ride for a messenger—and although the Bear Company had trained forest falcons to hunt messenger ravens, Marquess Dwemick would receive the news this morning at the earliest, or tonight at the latest. He only needed to dispatch three squads of high-ranked knights, and they could arrive at the scene in half a day. The Bear Company and the Sabertooth Tiger guards had to retreat as soon as possible, vanishing into the vast mountains to escape the pursuit of high-ranked knights.

Nikolai had tolerated the Bear Company erasing their tracks and cleaning the battlefield. He had tolerated their leader respecting religious doctrine and treating the wounded. He had tolerated them looting war trophies because they lacked provisions. He found it strange that they insisted on cremating their fallen comrades, but considering the burial customs of the mountain folk, he had tolerated that as well. However, for the mountain folk hunters of the Bear Company to treat the handmaidens as the most important spoils of war, intending to abduct them all, was something Nikolai could not accept.

The handmaidens trained by the Golden Dawn Sparrow family were all exquisitely beautiful. But beyond their beauty, they were also skilled in martial arts; two or three strong men were no match for a noble’s handmaiden. Furthermore, they were exceptionally skilled at seducing men and gathering intelligence. For several hundred men to travel through the mountains in the rain while trying to hide their tracks was already difficult enough. To do so while dragging along a group of treacherous, beautiful, and intelligent noble handmaidens was undoubtedly a suicide mission.

If it weren’t for the fear of getting lost in the endless mountain forests, Nikolai would have already fled for his life with his men, leaving these crude mountain mercenaries to their fate.

Narsen claimed to possess Silver-rank strength, which the Sabertooth Tiger Knights had been skeptical of. Now that Narsen had proven his power through his actions, Nikolai had no choice but to respect his opinion, but at the same time, he worried that Narsen wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation of the female apprentice knights. Mortal lords all yearned to improve the noble bloodline of their descendants and establish a true knightly family. In a sense, these two female apprentice knights were indeed the Bear Company’s most precious war trophies.

Narsen wasn’t the only War Bear under Viscount Randell. By leaving his two personal handmaidens in the carriage, Earl Horace had actually secured a chance of survival for them.

“He didn’t make his women die for him… Earl Horace was a true knight.”

Narsen remarked with a sigh of admiration, then said to Baritt, “The Bear Company is Lord Randal’s army. An army has its rules. The bad habits of the mountain folk mercenaries must be changed! All those women are to be left behind. Anyone who objects will be dealt with by military law!”

Baritt clapped his hands and laughed. “With those words from you, I can now chop off a few heads with peace of mind.” Then, he sighed wistfully, “I’ve already sensed it. The mercenary company’s code of the unguarded back is hindering the Bear Company’s development… I’ve been a mercenary for decades, only to end up abandoning the very code I was once so proud of…”

“Uncle Baritt, you’re not abandoning it. You’re building a new standard and a new law for professional mercenaries upon its foundation,” Narsen consoled him. “That’s what Lord Randal said… He also said that he wants the Bear Company to be recorded in the annals of the Church and the Silver Spire… When you return to report, my lord will discuss the future of the Bear Company with you personally.”

“Really?” Baritt said excitedly. “Good! I’ll go enforce discipline right now.”

The Bear Company commander strode toward the camp with his guards. Nikolai breathed a sigh of relief and nodded to Narsen. “My lord is wise! We should leave this place as soon as possible.”

“Mm,” Narsen nodded, his gaze shifting to the Rose Knight, Aug. “Does Lady Trisley have any instructions?”

“Lady Trisley said that we Rose Knights will not travel with the Bear Company. You also need not arrange a guide for us,” Aug replied.

Narsen asked, puzzled, “Then how will you find your way out of the mountains?”

“Lady Trisley will lead us along the main road through Dwemick’s territory,” Aug said as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He then added, “Lady Trisley also wanted me to inform Your Excellency that Earl Horace’s Mithril equipment must not be touched! That is a high-ranked knight’s coffin… Our assassination of Horra Ludwig was not out of personal enmity… If you take his Mithril equipment, you will forge a personal feud with House Ludwig.”

Mithril equipment was rare, priceless, and held special significance for high-ranked knights. Of the York family’s ten high-ranked knights, only four possessed a full set of Mithril equipment. It would be best if the Bear Company took Horace’s Mithril armor and sword and resold it to the York family. But Trisley was thinking of her lover and didn’t want his number one subordinate to face retaliation from House Ludwig.

Narsen didn’t know the reasoning behind it, but he respected Earl Horace’s strength and wisdom. The man’s final, all-out sword strike, with its unreserved and unerring intent to kill, was enough to shatter the will of ordinary elite soldiers, who wouldn’t dare to stand in its way. Unfortunately for Horace, the retainer who blocked the blow for Narsen was an Alchemical militia with an immortal soul. Faced with Narsen’s counterattack, Horace could only die filled with regret.

“I will heed your words,” Narsen nodded and said solemnly. “The Bear Company will not touch Earl Horace’s effects.”

“My lord, we shall part ways here,” Aug said, saluting as he took his leave.

The soldiers of the Bear Company placed the bodies of their comrades into the pit. Narsen poured the last barrel of fire oil, took a torch, and personally set the pit ablaze. Roaring flames shot into the sky, consuming the slumbering warriors. Narsen plunged his beheading greatsword into the earth, stood against the searing heat, and observed a moment of silence. He then pulled his Adamantine beheading greatsword from the ground and yelled:

“Let’s move out!”

Night descended, and darkness and cold enveloped the mountain-forged Stonetooth City.

The Knight’s Hall in Stonetooth Fortress was ablaze with candlelight as Marquess Dwemick hosted a grand banquet for his guests.

The heavily tattooed Raegzo sat on the floor with two similarly tattooed barbarian companions. Several formidable soldiers in chainmail brought three basins of steaming roasted ox legs to their table. Raegzo picked up the fragrant roast and took her first bite from the hoof. The hard bone was easily crushed between her teeth with a sharp crunch, and golden grease mixed with threads of crimson blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.

The barbarian berserker’s ferocious appetite and eating habits made Marquess Dwemick swallow subconsciously. As a rule, creatures that could eat a lot were exceptionally strong, and those who could endure hunger were exceptionally tough. The barbarians were both.

Comparing Raegzo’s beast-hide top, which barely covered her magnificent chest, to his own beautifully crafted Adamantine heavy armor, Dwemick felt a sense of reassurance. This was the gap in civilization.

Nearly all the noble guests and attendants at the evening banquet were clad in armor and armed with weapons. The sole exception was Marquess Dwemick’s guest of honor—Marchioness Sophia Wimbledon.

She wore a pink spider silk long dress that traced her graceful figure. Her clear yet deep eyes were like exquisite amethysts, and her translucent red lips held an elegant, enchanting smile. Surrounded by armored figures, Marchioness Sophia appeared soft, graceful, and dazzlingly radiant.

Marquess Dwemick was over sixty, but as a senior knight who could resonate with twenty-four elemental nodes, he had handsome features and was brimming with vigor, appearing to be no older than forty. Every gesture he made was filled with the charm of a mature man. Due to the nature of his firstborn’s bloodline, Marquess Dwemick could never step into the extraordinary realm, making the pursuit of beautiful women his greatest hobby and flaw.

The purple-eyed noblewomen of the Kingdom of Sus were famed throughout the world for their beauty and gentleness, but they were willing to serve only Gold Knights or those of a Silver Bloodline, leaving House Dwemick with no chance to even try.

Faced with a peerless beauty like Sophia, so flirtatious and alluring, Dwemick was greatly moved. However, even if Sophia were to throw herself into his arms, he wouldn’t dare to truly touch her.

It wasn’t just that Dwemick didn’t dare to provoke Sophia; even Gold Knights didn’t want to get too entangled with her.

A half-goldenized Silver Knight was extremely dangerous. The erosion from the Elemental Sea had caused irreversible changes to their bodies and souls. Only by stepping into the Gold realm could they effectively control their physical and mental states. It was not surprising for a half-goldenized knight on the verge of losing control to do anything. The constraints of noble traditions and rules held minimal sway over them.

Of course, the power of secular society was all-encompassing and omnipresent; no one could resist the social order constructed by all of humanity. The papal line had once tried to challenge the laws of secular society’s development, and the result of their attempt to swim against the current was that Inoc’s descendants lost their divine authority.

And had Sophia not personally come to sue for peace in the face of this intangible pressure?

Dwemick was secretly pleased. He leaned to the side and offered an obsequious compliment, “Beautiful Lady Wimbledon, to have such powerful barbarian followers is truly enviable.”

“Your Excellency Dwemick, I must correct you. These three barbarian warriors are not yet followers of the Marchioness Wimbledon… at least, not for now,” Wallace, Vice-Commander of the Temple Army, interjected with a hint of dissatisfaction.

Wallace hailed from the Eresrel family, one of the Seven Great Paladin Families, and he could have become a powerful Paladin. But because the number of Paladin positions was limited, Wallace had renounced his noble surname and the path of a semi-elementalized extraordinary knight. He piously served the Lord of Radiance as a senior knight and eventually became a Sixth-level Sacred Warrior, second only to Tournans. His strength and prestige were less than that of the First Sacred Warrior, but his network of connections and power were beyond what Tournans could compare to.

“Your Excellency Wallace is correct. Until I complete Harotus’s commission, Raegzo and her companions are not my followers. However, they consider me a companion… Even if they do become my followers in the future, they carry diplomatic responsibilities between Arreat and the human kingdoms. Therefore, I will not treat Raegzo and her companions as ordinary followers.”

Sophia smiled faintly and addressed Marquess Dwemick, “Lord Dwemick, the title ‘Lady Wimbledon’ is somewhat inappropriate… You may call me Marchioness Wimbledon, or Viscountess Randell.”

Dwemick’s smile froze. He said awkwardly, “Marchioness Wimbledon, my apologies. I was impolite.”

Sophia nodded, her amethyst-like eyes turning to a middle-aged knight across from her. She laughed charmingly, “Your Highness Friedrich, I didn’t expect you to be a guest in Stonetooth City as well. I thought I would have to travel to the Royal Capital of Dodor to witness the splendor of the Commander of the Iron Wall Knights.”

“Sophia, you may call me Duke Duenkel.”

Duenkel Friedrich, one of Dodor’s three Gold Knights, was King Friedrich’s youngest uncle, the former Grand Duke of Dodor, and now a Duke of the Dodor Royal Family and the Commander of the Iron Wall Knights.

During this time, the great families of the Kingdom of Dodor had offended Sophia severely. When she suddenly led a massive caravan across Dodor’s borders with the intent to visit the Royal Capital, the Dodor Royal Family extended a cautious welcome. To prevent any incidents, King Friedrich had requested the Iron Wall Knights to escort Sophia and her barbarian followers along their journey.

Duke Duenkel paid no mind to the veiled sarcasm in Sophia’s tone and said flatly, “The Kingdom of Gambia is preparing to launch the Fishman War. The Glory Knights stationed at Minsk Fortress are about to move south. To demonstrate our sincerity, His Majesty King Friedrich has ordered the Iron Wall Knights to return to the Royal Capital. As it happens, we will be traveling with the Wimbledon Merchant Association.”

“It is my honor to travel with the renowned Iron Wall Knights,” Sophia said, her eyes downcast and her lips slightly pursed.

Seeing the atmosphere at the banquet grow a little cold, Marquess Dwemick raised his wine glass, just about to liven things up, when an attendant hurried over and placed a sheepskin letter on his table.

Marquess Dwemick read the letter’s contents and set down his wine glass without a word. In the candlelight, his expression flickered, unreadable. After a long moment, he slowly rose to his feet. His sharp gaze swept across the entire hall, finally settling on Sophia’s exquisitely beautiful face as he said gravely:

“Last night, Earl Horra Ludwig was ambushed and killed in the northern territories of Dwemick.”

The entire assembly of guests and attendants fell into a deathly silence.

Crunch, crunch, crunch…

The sound of the barbarian berserker chewing on an ox leg bone echoed through the dead-silent great hall, sending a chill down every spine.

Chapter 445: The Furnace

“Who would assassinate a noble Court Earl in the Dwemick Fief?”

Sophia’s long, slender brows furrowed. Her expression was one of sorrow and confusion, and her voice was crisp and pleasant.

“And who could murder a powerful Silver Knight on my lands?”

Marquess Dwemick stared intently at Sophia, the fury in his eyes seemingly providing the answer to his own question.

The guests’ minds raced. Sophia had led a large caravan north to the Teutonic Duchy, intending to visit Dodor’s Royal Capital, Isqin, at the invitation of Earl Horra Ludwig. However, Earl Horace had not waited in Stonetooth City for Sophia’s arrival; instead, he had departed seven days prior. House DeWeimik had then managed to delay Sophia for another three days, only holding a banquet to welcome her and the barbarian envoys after Duke Duenkel arrived with the Iron Wall Knights. By then, Earl Horace’s party had been gone from Stonetooth City for a full ten days.

It was obvious that Earl Horace was unwilling to travel with the famously beautiful Marchioness Wimbledon. This was because Dodor’s great nobles now felt a certain unease in Sophia’s presence.

For a long time, the Wimbledon Merchant Association had maintained very close trade cooperation with Dodor’s powerful lords. When Sophia inherited the old Marquess Wimbledon’s enterprise, she also inherited his network of contacts. To solidify her position, Sophia had proactively renegotiated trade agreements with the great families of Dodor. The Stag Merchants’ Guild offered concessions to the powerful lords by raising purchase prices and lowering their selling prices. As a result, the Stag Merchants’ Guild could only turn a profit from Dodor’s minor lords and freemen.

Then, the Wimbledon Merchant Association clashed with the Kingdom of Borea’s Southwind Merchant Association. Logically, the powerful lords of Dodor should have staunchly supported Sophia. Yet they turned on her without a second thought, completely disregarding their past relationship. The ties between them deteriorated rapidly.

If Sophia had been an ordinary commercial noble, they could have bullied her and moved on, perhaps offering some symbolic compensation elsewhere to smooth over the broken promises. But Sophia was a Raging Wave Knight with a will of iron, close to a Spirit Knight, and had the barbarians at her back. When the Boreans offended her, she cut off the Kingdom of Borea’s trade with Arreat. While the Dodor Kingdom controlled the north-south trade routes and didn’t fear similar trade countermeasures, they had to be wary of her revenge.

Now, Sophia was visiting the Dodor Kingdom with barbarians, and her passage through Stonetooth City had put House DeWeimik on high alert. How could Earl Horra Ludwig dare travel with her? The Golden Dawn Sparrow Earl had been ambushed and killed right after Sophia arrived in Stonetooth City. Marquess Dwemick certainly had reason to suspect her of being the mastermind.

“As I understand it, the Dwemick Fief has been overrun with bandits recently,” Sophia stated calmly. “They have been brazenly attacking the freemen merchants of Stonetooth City, causing the Stag Merchants’ Guild to suffer significant losses. I wrote several letters, hoping that House DeWeimik would apprehend these bandits. But the Marquess ignored my requests, replying that clearing out the bandits of Stonetooth City was an internal affair of House DeWeimik, in which the Wimbledon Merchant Association had no right to interfere. Perhaps Earl Horace was attacked by bandits.”

“Bandits?”

Instead of flying into a rage, Marquess Dwemick’s expression grew thoughtful. After a moment, he rose to his feet and declared grimly, “A special envoy of the kingdom, the noble Golden Dawn Sparrow Earl, has been ambushed and killed in the Dwemick Fief. As a lord of the Dodor Kingdom and the Marquess of House DeWeimik, I will not let any of Earl Horace’s murderers escape. I order House DeWeimik’s Rock Leopard Knights to lead two thousand mountain cavalry to depart immediately and hunt down the culprits.” He had an attendant present a letter to Duke Duenkel and bowed. “Your Highness, the attack occurred late last night. The murderers of Earl Horace cannot be far. I shamelessly request the assistance of the Iron Wall Knights!”

The faces of House DeWeimik’s High-ranked Knights changed. The Marquess had directly requested aid from the Iron Wall Knights without consulting the Family Guardian. This implied that House DeWeimik had lost control of its own territory and was helpless against the perpetrators. The kingdom’s Senate could use this as grounds to demand House DeWeimik accept a reduction in rank as punishment.

However, if the assassins could kill Earl Horace in the Dwemick Fief, they could strike at any core member of House DeWeimik. The most critical issue now was not the political fallout from Horace’s death, but the complete annihilation of this hostile force. Furthermore, it was a foregone conclusion that House DeWeimik would face Duke Ludwig’s thunderous wrath; the family needed to show its unreserved support for the Dodor royal family through Duke Duenkel.

Marquess Dwemick’s blatant move to cling to a powerful ally gave Duke Duenkel a headache. After reading the letter, his head felt ready to explode. He cursed inwardly, For crying out loud, couldn’t you have shouldered this yourself first?

The Gold Knight pondered for a long while before tapping the table. He tossed the letter to Sophia and said, “A survivor stated that Earl Horace called out his killer’s name before he died… Lord Narsen Randall.” Before Sophia could react, he changed the subject. “Of course, it’s possible Earl Horace was deliberately misled by the killer… Regardless, please remain in Stonetooth City for the time being, Marchioness Wimbledon. We will sort out the truth once the Iron Wall Knights have captured the culprit.”

Who was Lord Narsen Randall? He was Viscount Randell’s most trusted confidant. Viscount Randell was Sophia’s husband. Viscount Randell was also the Queen of Roses’ only beloved… The High-ranked Knights of House DeWeimik had a sudden epiphany. No wonder the Marquess was in such a rush to get Duke Duenkel’s backing. The Golden Dawn Sparrow family alone was more than they could handle. Add a Spirit Knight, and perhaps a future Sword Saint… not even a fortress forged from Adamantine could withstand that.

Fortunately, Duke Duenkel was a man who shouldered responsibility. The unicorn war steeds of the Iron Wall Knights were full of stamina, powerful, fierce, and skilled at tracking, able to adapt to all kinds of complex terrain. If Duenkel dispatched just one hundred Iron Wall Knights, none of the killers would escape. Of course, the Iron Wall Knights were unlikely to leave any survivors.

The High-ranked Knights of House DeWeimik had mixed feelings. At this point, they didn’t want to uncover the truth; they just needed to cooperate with the Royal Family in the ensuing war of words.

Wallace, the Vice-Commander of the Temple Army, let out a cold snort and spoke up. “I can guarantee that Marchioness Wimbledon was not involved in this attack. If House DeWeimik is incapable of apprehending bandits, it can request assistance from the Inquisition. However, the Marchioness is about to travel to the Sasan Empire to escort two highnesses from the Radiant Knights on a visit to Halotes Fortress, where she will discuss an alliance with the great elder of the barbarian tribes. This matter concerns the bigger picture for the Church and all the kingdoms. No one may detain the Marchioness!”

The crowd gasped. Their greatest fear had come to pass—Sophia was done playing games and was flipping the table! The number and strength of the cards she held up her sleeve were staggering.

The kingdoms and the Church were in consensus that diplomacy with the barbarians could not be controlled by any single secular lord. Sophia had been under pressure from all sides because of this. Now, she was proactively helping the Radiant Knights establish diplomatic ties with Halotes. The Radiant Knights would be overjoyed. What did letting her vent a little pent-up frustration matter in comparison?

Duenkel had long been prepared for the Radiant Knights to discard him once he’d served his purpose, but he still gritted his teeth in frustration. Just then, a priest from Stonetooth City rushed in, face pale and stammering in a grief-stricken voice to Bishop Solz, “My lord… terrible news… There’s a refugee riot in the Stonetooth City shantytown!”

“What! Supreme Lord above… tell me clearly, what in the world happened?!” Bishop Solz strode over the dining table, grabbed the priest’s shoulders, and roared.

“My lord, it’s… it’s the people from the refugee camps! They’re fighting back against the oppression of the local freemen! A large-scale brawl has broken out! We need Stonetooth City to dispatch troops to suppress the situation immediately!”

Bishop Solz’s face turned crimson. His fierce gaze swept over Sophia, saw her equally shocked and bewildered expression, which didn’t seem feigned, and then pointed a finger at the ashen-faced Marquess Dwemick. “I told you this would happen…” he snarled, “I told you to delay driving out the refugee camps! You were too impatient, you wouldn’t listen to me, and now look! There are eighty thousand freemen followers of the faith outside the city! If blood flows like a river tonight and the casualties exceed five thousand, you can all wait to be held accountable by Lord Trigovar!” He kicked over a table and bellowed, “My dear Marquess, what are you standing there for? Mobilize your troops and suppress the riot!”

Duenkel nodded at Marquess Dwemick, then said to a High-ranked Knight in Mithril armor, “Hernando, I’m lending you thirty unicorn war beasts. Take House DeWeimik’s High-ranked Knights and pursue the killers.”

The unicorn war beasts possessed astonishing combat power, capable of even tearing apart a full-grown Ogre. Thirty Aberration unicorn war beasts, coupled with three squads of High-ranked Knights, were more than enough to crush the enemies who had attacked Earl Horace. But Duenkel did not dispatch the Iron Wall Knights themselves, clearly leaving room for maneuver. The Guardian of House DeWeimik understood. He bowed to the Duke and left the Knight’s Hall with two Silver Knights.

And with that, the evening banquet in Stonetooth City ended on a sour note.

After Marquess Dwemick left with his men to quell the riot, Duenkel said gently, “Sophia, we need to talk alone.”

Wallace had originally intended to follow Duenkel, but when he saw Sophia beckon Raegzo to accompany her, he sat back down. With the barbarian Urus protecting Sophia, Duenkel would never dare to try anything.

The three of them passed through a long corridor and arrived at a sitting room. With gentlemanly conduct, Duenkel pulled open the oak door for Sophia. Raegzo hunched over, trying to squeeze into the room with Sophia. In the end, she shook her head, muttered a few curses in the barbarian tongue, and stood guard outside, refusing to enter.

Duke Duenkel gave the iron-tower of a barbarian warrior woman an amused look, then walked into the room without closing the door. He smiled at Sophia. “They say a barbarian Weapon Master has the strength of a Silver Knight, but I’ve noticed those two Weapon Masters are no weaker than this Urus.”

Sophia smiled faintly. “The barbarians have no concept of Gold, Silver, and Bronze ranks. Urus is merely an honorary title. Those two Weapon Masters both possess the Frenzy talent; they simply haven’t yet encountered prey worthy of boasting about.”

“A Knight’s Gold rank represents an extraordinary level of life, not just combat strength. Barbarians are naturally far stronger than humans… Halotes Fortress is a force to be reckoned with.” Duenkel nodded, then added, “But we humans have potential that surpasses any other race. The various kinds of beastmen need to unite just to stand against us. Take the Centaurs; their average weight exceeds one thousand pounds, and their strength is not much less than that of the barbarians, but without their Goblin slaves to serve them, those brutes are no match for us. Because we humans possess wisdom and know how to judge a situation.”

“You should know that giving you a hard time was not the intention of the lords of Dodor. The Church is the mastermind. Our Dodor Kingdom must adapt to the changing times, avoid civil war, and strive to expand outward.”

“So I’ve surrendered,” Sophia said, her beautiful eyes shifting from violet to green and back to violet. “Your Highness, you should also be aware of my situation. I can give up the Wimbledon Merchant Association, facilitate cooperation between the barbarians and us humans, and then content myself as a lord. But can you make Sylvia give me my husband back? Can you let me make protecting the House of Randell my life’s work? Sylvia has told me to my face that my and Victor’s child will become a Guardian for the York family. Who, then, will inherit my legacy? Can you persuade her to change her mind?”

Duenkel was suddenly at a loss for words. Sophia sneered, “You can’t help me, yet you want to destroy my conviction. Isn’t that cutting off my path as a Knight? If someone tried to cut off your path as a Knight, Your Highness, what would you do?”

“What do you plan to do?” Duke Duenkel shook his head with a wry smile.

“For the next fifteen years, I will act as a great commercial noble and do everything in my power to help humanity win the trust of everyone in Halotes, from the top to the bottom. Then, as the Marchioness Wimbledon, I will charge into the Gold realm… and hope that Victor’s Bloodline will stabilize and give me an heir for the Marquessate…” A gentle smile graced Sophia’s lips, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. Her voice turned cold. “Until then, no one is to touch my merchant association!”

“I understand,” Duke Duenkel said with a nod. “As the Protector of the Kingdom of Dodor, I promise you that the lords of Dodor will protect the interests of the Wimbledon Merchant Association… But this mess, how do you intend to solve it?”

“You must give our House of Friedrich an explanation regarding the matter of Earl Horace!”

Sophia raised an eyebrow and said tauntingly, “If Earl Horace hadn’t died, you wouldn’t be asking for my terms… This is truly some belated respect.”

Duenkel was, after all, a Pinnacle Knight, and he had already chosen to compromise. Sophia knew when to stop, her voice crisp as she said, “I have already secured the monopoly on raw sugar. I promise that House Friedrich can receive a quota of eight million pounds of raw sugar per year, at eighteen Copper Sols per pound.”

Raw sugar was easy to store and transport and could effectively help soldiers recover stamina and replenish nutrients. For pioneers, raw sugar was a vital strategic logistical resource. The Dodor Kingdom had been paying twenty Copper Sols per pound and could only procure three million pounds a year. Duenkel was very satisfied with Sophia’s price, but not with the quota. He shook his head. “Eight million pounds is not enough. At least twenty million pounds.”

“Twenty million pounds? The Randell Fief’s annual raw sugar production is only sixty million pounds… Besides House Friedrich, I also have to give House Ludwig a quota of five million pounds. What is the Dodor Kingdom dissatisfied about with a thirteen-million-pound share?” Sophia shook her head repeatedly. “The price and quota for raw sugar are non-negotiable, but I guarantee I will not sell it to any other lord in Dodor.”

Duenkel thought for a moment, then probed, “You don’t need to give House Ludwig their raw sugar quota. Just sell it to us, House Friedrich.”

“Impossible!” Sophia shook her head firmly. After a pause, she added, “I can adopt the Southwind Merchant Association’s trade model and exclusively trade green wheat and other food supplies with the great lords of Dodor. But the prices for these goods will be slightly higher. The Wimbledon Merchant Association needs to earn a certain amount of profit to maintain its operations.”

The Southwind Merchant Association’s model was to dump goods on the great families of Dodor at low prices while purchasing their commodities at high prices. This helped them monopolize the domestic grain trade, allowing them to exploit the wealth accumulated by minor lord families through high grain prices. This policy of the Dodor Kingdom was shameless and unsustainable, but it was beneficial to the kingdom’s greater goal of expansion.

Since Sophia was willing to cooperate with House Friedrich’s trade policy, Duenkel immediately made a decision. “Alright, it’s settled!”

“That does not include House DeWeimik. Anyone who dares to secretly support them will be making an enemy of me!” Sophia added coldly.

Duenkel stiffened slightly. “Why must you do this?”

“The Stag Merchants’ Guild is demoralized and on the verge of collapse. I must restore their morale!” A charming smile bloomed on Sophia’s face as she spoke with bewitching grace. “House DeWeimik meddled in the struggle between the Stag Merchants’ Guild and the Southwind Merchant Association, openly helping the Masked Brotherhood attack the Guild’s mercenaries. My subordinates are terrified, and even Lord Eckhart has gone missing. House DeWeimik brought this upon themselves!”

“When I reach the Gold rank, or perhaps on a day when I’m feeling happy, I will lift the trade ban on House DeWeimik.”

Sophia rose gracefully, walked to the door, and looked back over her shoulder. “The riot in Stonetooth City has nothing to do with me.”

“No noble would dare incite a large-scale brawl among refugees,” Duke Duenkel said, still seated, nodding emphatically.

“You people are truly audacious…”

Tao De’s face was pale as he stood on high ground in Stonetooth City, looking down at the Freemen’s shantytown at the foot of the mountain.

Two ribbons of light, formed by torches, divided the shantytown into two dark areas. One was shrouded in an oppressive silence, the other in desperate chaos.

The large-scale brawl in Stonetooth City’s freemen district had begun under the cover of night. Countless rioters, wielding torches and blades, killed anyone they saw and set fire to any dwelling they passed. Fortunately, a recent downpour had left the straw huts too damp to ignite easily, averting a major conflagration. The church in the freemen’s district was the first to react. Sacred Warriors, holding torches, formed a warning line, cordoning off the riot area. Enforcers from the Thieves’ Guild, led by the magistrate’s guards, charged into the scene, indiscriminately killing any refugee holding a torch.

When darkness fell upon the shantytown, the veritable feast of slaughter, where friend and foe were indistinguishable, finally began.

Tao De couldn’t see clearly into the darkness, but he could hear the sounds of trampling, the screams, the wails, the shouts, the roars, the mad laughter, the clash of weapons, and the thud of blades sinking into flesh. These sounds formed a hellish vision of a river of blood in his mind, making him feel as if he had been plunged into an icy abyss. He trembled all over, wishing he could block his ears.

“Hundreds are probably going to die…” he murmured.

“At least!” Barol, clad in black leather armor, whispered like a ghost. “Perhaps over a thousand, who knows.”

“So many people dying… and you don’t think it matters?”

Tao De gripped his longsword until his knuckles turned white. He didn’t dare look at Barol, afraid he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from cutting down this devil.

“What is meant to happen will happen,” Barol sighed, his voice dry and cold. “In this world, everyone is as hard as iron, as cold as iron. Every kingdom, every fief, is a furnace, large or small. No matter how hard or cold you are, the furnace will melt you into molten iron and forge you into farm tools, armor, longswords, crowns… From the highest noble Knights to the lowliest refugees, no one is an exception. If the furnace is too small, the molten iron will spill out, just like this.”

Barol lifted his chin and spoke from his high vantage point. “Look at them, killing each other like beasts. If you want to quell the chaos, you have to become a beast yourself and join the slaughter. But what is it you want to do? Save people, or kill people? Who is worthy of being saved, and who needs your salvation?”

“If the refugee bandits want to join Stonetooth City, they have to be tested in the furnace. Everything must be done according to Stonetooth City’s rules. If your home was destroyed, your land seized, and then they skimped on your rations, stole your wife and children, and turned you into a farmer, a miner, or a craftsman with nothing to your name… what would you do? I guarantee you’d do the same as them. You’d argue, you’d beg, you’d be beaten, then you’d fight back, and then you’d kill.”

“This kind of thing is unavoidable. If not in Stonetooth City, then in some other fief, and it would only be more brutal. At least we made arrangements in advance…” Barol shook his head and sighed. “Even if you tell them the furnace is too small and can’t smelt this much iron, they won’t believe you. And even if they believe you, they can’t change it. Only when molten iron covers the ground will the furnace be made bigger. The fact is, the Church needed this riot, the lord needed this riot, the refugees needed this riot, everyone needed this riot!”

“I am a man of the House of Randell. I feel no guilt over the riot in Stonetooth City.”

Tao De looked at the smiling Barol in surprise. “I didn’t think you possessed such insight…”

“Heh heh, how could I have such ability? This is Lord Randal’s insight… The Master is exceptionally talented and wise. He has invited everyone in the family to help forge a new furnace, a great and good one. He listens to our opinions and is willing to nurture us. That’s why something like this will never happen in the Randell Fief! And we will not allow it to happen.” Barol’s voice was low. “To be able to serve such a master is the honor of my lifetime!”

“…It is the honor of my lifetime as well.” Tao De’s perspective shifted in an instant. Looking down at the brutal brawl below, he now felt a sense of calm and nonchalance, his body filled with a proud strength. “The Master is no mortal. His Bloodline is incomparably noble; his wisdom and vision are naturally far-reaching.”

“Oh, you know how noble the Master’s bloodline is?” the old spy asked with great interest.

Tao De smiled proudly. “Hmph, it’s too complicated to explain to you.”

Barol shrugged, unconcerned, and switched to a smile. “My lord, let’s get to it. You leading men to the Vassal District to capture our targets—that’s the truly audacious part. I can’t handle a job like that.”

Tao De gripped his longsword, gave a signal, and dozens of capable warriors followed him, disappearing into the pitch-black streets and alleys.

The Shadow of Quicksilver stroked his beard, pulled up his hood, and lowered his head, chuckling softly. “Lad, you’re still a bit green.”

“The Master also said that wisdom is not intelligence. It has nothing to do with bloodline… It requires experience.”

Chapter 446: The Melting Secret

Most of the adult men living in the Vassal District were low-ranking officers of House DeWeimik, along with their sons, nephews, and retainers. When the refugee riot broke out in Stonetooth City and the cathedral’s alarm bell rang, they immediately armed themselves and left their homes to assemble at the Administrative Hall.

The roads were filled with armored warriors holding torches, rushing to their posts. Tao De and his thirty Elite Guards, disguised as soldiers from the Magistrate’s Office, didn’t stand out on the street, and no one stopped them for questioning. They reached their target’s residence without any trouble and surrounded it.

The streets of the Vassal District were now completely deserted. Only the old, the weak, women, and children remained in the houses lining the roads. They had bolted their gates and were hiding quietly inside.

Tao De took a deep breath and gave Ron a quiet order, “The target’s name is Willie. He’s middle-aged, short, stout, and bald, with a red mole above his left eyebrow. He has two bodyguards, a young manservant, and a personal maid with him. You’ll take fifteen men inside to make the arrest. I’ll stay out here with the others on watch. Take him alive if you can, but if you meet any resistance, kill on sight! You have to be quick, or we might not make it out of the inner city.”

“Understood.”

Ron nodded and gave a hand signal. A tall, sturdy Elite Guard smashed through the heavy, thick oak door with a loud bang that sounded exceptionally jarring on the silent street. A dozen agile Elite Guards, holding torches, poured one after another through the splintered, warped doorway. A woman’s piercing scream came from inside, only to be cut off abruptly, as if her throat had been grabbed. It was impossible to tell if she had been choked to death or merely knocked unconscious.

The commotion alerted the nearby residents, who peered down from the gaps in their second-floor windows. Tao De had no choice but to shout, “The Magistrate’s Office is apprehending a fugitive! Uninvolved persons, stay in your homes! Don’t run around, and watch out for stray arrows!”

The sound of windows shutting echoed all around. A short while later, Ron and his men emerged with their target in custody. Tao De’s eyes widened in surprise. “That was it?!”

The bald, middle-aged man, his hands bound behind him with ox tendon, glanced at Tao De and chuckled. “And who did I think it was? Why, if it isn’t the esteemed Lord Ghostface…”

A thought stirred in Tao De’s mind. He asked in a low voice, “You know me?”

“Who doesn’t know the famous Ghostface?” The bald man laughed dismissively. “I just didn’t expect you to go to such lengths to capture me…” As he spoke, he jutted his chin toward the unconscious woman and young servant being carried on the Elite Guards’ shoulders. “I bought that boy and woman from the Crippled Wolf Inn. They don’t know anything. I advise you to kill them both, lest they ruin your plans.”

He was prepared? Does he think we’re his contacts?

Though suspicion grew in his heart, Tao De’s expression remained impassive. “What we do is none of your concern,” he said coldly. He turned to Ron. “Take a few brothers and search the house…”

“Don’t waste your time. There’s no intelligence in the house. I am the Masked Brotherhood Liaison Officer you’re looking for. Just take me to your master, and I’ll tell him everything… If we don’t leave now, we might not get the chance,” Willie urged anxiously.

Tao De held up his torch, illuminating Willie’s face. “You seem a little scared,” he said faintly.

Willie leaned his head back to avoid the heat of the flame and snapped in frustration, “Damn it! You’re not one of House DeWeimik’s secret knights. If you don’t hurry up and withdraw, aren’t you afraid of attracting the Church’s attention? When that happens, none of us will escape!”

Although the Masked Brotherhood’s liaison was acting strangely, now was not the time to investigate. After a moment of thought, Tao De gave the order to retreat.

After regrouping with Barol, he gave him a look to hold his questions for later. Then, taking advantage of the chaos in Stonetooth City, he led the team out of the inner city without incident and rushed to the first temporary rendezvous point under the cover of night.

Before dawn, Tao De finally escorted his prisoner into a dense mountain forest. Willie, covered in dew and pale-faced, collapsed onto the ground, panting. “Can you untie me first?” he complained. “This ox tendon is killing me.”

Barol was also exhausted. He shot Tao De a look before finding a rock to sit on himself. The Elite Guards dropped the shivering woman and young manservant on the ground and began to eat their journey rations and raw sugar with relish.

The bald Willie swallowed hard and grumbled in a low voice, “Give us something to eat. On an empty stomach, we won’t be able to keep up with you.”

At a signal from Tao De, the Elite Guards fed the prisoners some food and water. When they had finished, Tao De asked, “How did you know I wasn’t one of House DeWeimik’s secret knights?”

Willie licked his lips and sneered. “How long has Ghostface been with the Magistrate’s Office? If you were one of House DeWeimik’s secret knights, why would you need to infiltrate the Magistrate’s Office? You incited the large-scale brawl among the refugees, wasn’t that all just to get me out quietly?”

“Who are you, really?” Tao De’s gaze, sharp as a knife, bored into Willie’s eyes.

Willie spat on the ground and said with haughty disdain, “I can tell from the scar on your face that you’re no Extraordinary Knight. You don’t have the right to ask my identity. And I don’t need to know yours. You don’t dare untie this ox tendon, and I won’t make things difficult for small fries like you… Enough nonsense, lead the way! This old master is in a hurry to see someone who can make decisions.”

Tao De’s face turned ashen. Barol stepped forward, a fawning smile on his face. “Esteemed master, the colder the dew, the tighter the ox tendon shrinks… If you can tell us who we are, we’ll take it upon ourselves to loosen your bonds first. Otherwise, we can only take you to our master tied up like this.”

Willie’s eyes flickered for a moment. He said nonchalantly, “It doesn’t matter who your master is. I have something he wants… Are you sure you want to know?”

Barol chuckled. “No, not at all. Let’s go.”

The Elite Guards led the five prisoners deeper into the mountain forest. Barol sidled up to Tao De and whispered, “He’s brazenly confident. I’m afraid he has a trick up his sleeve. We need to be careful.”

Tao De nodded silently, falling to the back of the line with Barol. The sky was beginning to pale when the group finally reached the temporary rendezvous point.

Inside the camp, two beautiful young women saw Tao De and rushed forward joyfully. The bald Willie’s maid suddenly cried out, “Lucy? Jenny?”

The two women stopped in their tracks and stared at the maid in surprise. “Mary? What are you doing here?”

Seeing the three women embracing, Willie’s expression changed drastically. “Now!” he roared. His pupils turned completely white as an invisible wave swept across the entire camp. Tao De felt an intense wave of drowsiness wash over him, while Barol and the others simply collapsed to the ground. The bald Willie’s two bodyguards snapped their ox-tendon bonds and stood up, their faces murderous. Tao De tried to draw his longsword but couldn’t summon an ounce of strength; even his thoughts seemed to freeze. In a daze, he vaguely saw Quicksilver’s Mystic Warriors swarm forward, instantly stabbing the two newly freed bodyguards to death before pressing their longswords to Willie’s neck.

It felt like a long time before Tao De regained control of his body and senses. He found that all the ordinary people in the camp had collapsed into a deep slumber. Only he, the Mystic Warriors, and the bald Willie were still conscious.

Tao De walked over and kicked the two bodyguards twitching in pools of their own blood, confirming they were dead, before looking up and asking, “Ron, how long was I out?”

“Just a moment,” Ron replied succinctly.

Tao De looked at the dazed, bald middle-aged man with a new sense of awe. He took out his waterskin and splashed Barol awake. Once the old spy had come to his senses, Tao De said in a low voice, “Willie is an evil Wizard.”

Barol was stunned for a long moment. Trembling, he made a prayer sign over his chest and prayed with a piety he had never shown before, “Supreme Lord above, may Your radiance protect Your followers from the harm of the Evildoer.”

Tao De was silent for a moment before asking, “Should we wake the others?”

“There’s no hurry… let them be for now.” Barol, having regained his composure, waved a hand and walked over to the bald middle-aged man. He asked hesitantly, “So, uh, Mr. Wizard… will the unconscious people die?”

The bald Willie, all his previous arrogance gone, looked timidly at the Mystic Warriors surrounding him and forced a smile. “My lord, they’re fine… They’re just asleep.”

Seeing Willie’s submission, Tao De’s knightly courage overcame his fear of the Wizard. He gripped his sword hilt and asked, “What was that Wizardry just now?”

“Just a sleeping spell,” the bald man answered honestly.

The old spy interjected, “So, can we have a proper chat now?”

“Of course… but… you two might not get the chance.” A strange smile spread across Willie’s face. He turned to Ron and the others and said, “I know the secret of the Bloodlust Legion. I am very important to your master. I order you now to kill these two men!”

Tao De’s face changed color. He instantly drew his longsword and took a defensive stance. The surrounding Alchemical militia, however, didn’t move. Kahn, the leader of the Crouching Ox Militiamen, thought for a moment and, mimicking the tone of the War Bear Mercenaries, cursed at Willie, “Did you get your head stuck in a cow’s ass? Is your brain full of cow shit?”

“…” Willie stared at Kahn, mouth agape, his face a mask of misery. “You… you’re the brainless ones…”

“Hmph.” Tao De sheathed his sword and looked coldly at the ashen-faced Willie. “You almost had me fooled.”

Barol smiled and ordered, “Untie his bonds.”

Kahn, the Crouching Ox Militiaman, took out a dagger and cut the ox tendon on Willie’s arms. Barol shook his head with a laugh. “See? These warriors, who are immune to your Wizardry, obey us. Now, you can answer our questions properly.”

Willie rubbed his arms and said readily, “Ask away. As long as you don’t kill me, I’ll answer anything.”

“Who did you think we were?”

“The Dodor Royal Family’s spy organization—Cunning Fox.” Willie continued to explain, “I’ve heard the leader of Cunning Fox is an incredibly formidable character. The Bloodguards trained by our Masked Brotherhood can’t escape his notice. He was bound to try and capture one of us liaisons eventually to torture the secrets of the Bloodguards out of us.”

Barol pondered for a moment before asking, “Why did you suddenly attack?”

“We were only prepared to defect to Cunning Fox, but you are not Cunning Fox’s people.” Willie pointed at the three sleeping women. “I know all three of these women. They were the prettiest waitresses at the Crippled Wolf Inn. When I bought Mary, Lord Ghostface hadn’t arrived in Stonetooth City yet, so he doesn’t know her. But I am very certain that none of them are spies with powerful backgrounds, otherwise I wouldn’t have dared to sleep with Mary in the same bed every night. And there’s no way Cunning Fox’s secret knights would bring two waitresses along with them. So I guessed you weren’t spies for any of the great families… Only the great families dare to keep Wizards. If a regular family captured a Wizard, they would most likely sell him to the Church. Since you captured me, I had no choice but to strike first to avoid being silenced by your master.”

Tao De’s face flushed. In a moment of soft-heartedness, he hadn’t wanted to involve two pitiful women and had Quicksilver bring them along. He never thought it would nearly lead to a disaster. Barol patted him on the shoulder, consoling him, “Don’t worry about it. If it weren’t for these two women, bringing a Wizard to our master would have been the real danger.” He then turned back to Willie. “Why did you order our men to kill us?”

“I was afraid you would kill me.” Willie smiled slyly. “Even great nobles have big trouble keeping Wizards. Silencing those in the know is an unavoidable necessity. I know the secret of the Bloodlust Legion, so your master certainly wouldn’t kill me… But the same can’t be said for you two… To save your own skins, you might have tried to kill me in secret.”

“I had assumed these mystic death commandos were like the Bloodguards, capable of protecting their master’s interests. Who knew they were just a bunch of brain-dead sheep!” Willie cried out in frustration.

Barol and Tao De exchanged a look. “It seems we really should kill you,” Barol said impassively.

“It’s not certain,” Willie said, full of confidence. “These mystic death commandos have strong wills, but their minds are rigid. They only know how to obey your orders. If you go back to your master, you’re dead either way. You might as well take them and throw in your lot with me.”

Barol was silent for a moment, then commanded, “Tell us the secret of the Bloodlust Legion.”

“Do you really think that’s possible?” Willie shot back with a jeer.

Tao De presented his longsword, pressing the tip to Willie’s chest. “Believe it or not, I’ll gut you right now,” he said, his voice chilling.

“I believe it!” Willie stared straight into Tao De’s eyes without flinching. “Kill me, and you’ll only have a dead end. Swear fealty to me, and you’ll have a chance to live. In the end, you are just humble mortals. But I can grant you great power.”

Barol placed a hand on Tao De’s arm and said thoughtfully, “There is a Wizard organization behind the Masked Brotherhood. Your position in the organization isn’t very high, or you wouldn’t have been sent to Stonetooth City to manage things. Your leader wants to use the secret art of Bloodlust to defect to the King of Dodor. He and Cunning Fox must have been in contact for some time. A liaison officer like you is merely a pawn sent to test the waters… Besides, how could something so important be known to outsiders?”

Willie sneered but said nothing. Barol continued, “I didn’t even have to ask, and you brought up the Bloodguards yourself… The truth is, the moment you saw Ghostface’s two women, you knew we were subordinates of the Stag Merchants’ Guild—your old rivals. For us to defect to you, now that would be foolish!”

Barol shook his head and said with regret, “A Wizard’s Wizardry is too dangerous. We can’t take you with us.”

“What are you doing?” Willie shouted, his voice sharp but his courage failing, as he stared at the longsword in Tao De’s hand. “I know the secret of the Bloodlust Legion. If you dare kill me, your master will definitely kill you!”

“Seize him.”

Kahn pinned the bald Wizard’s shoulders firmly, rendering his struggles useless. Barol took a crystal vial from his pocket and said, “Our master won’t kill us, because you’re about to spill all your secrets.”

Willie screamed in terror, “Don’t! No! I can’t tell you… I’ll die!”

“You won’t die. But you will become an idiot.” Barol pinched the bald Wizard’s jaw and poured the entire bottle of hallucinogenic potion into his mouth.

Willie tried desperately to cough up the potion. His skin turned redder and redder, and his body temperature rose higher and higher. Barol quickly let go, stumbling back several steps in alarm and motioning for the others to get back. The bald Wizard writhed in agony on the ground, yet no sound came from his mouth. His clothes, flesh, and bones began to melt like a burning candle, visibly dissolving into a disgusting pile of grease.

The bizarre and horrific transformation left Barol and Tao De at a total loss, their faces pale. Tao De fought back his nausea and fear, staring at the yellow grease. “There seems to be something in there?” he said uncertainly.

“It looks like a crystal.” Barol moved closer, studied it for a moment, and ordered, “Get it out with tongs, and wash it… Don’t forget to wear deerskin gloves.”

An Alchemical Militiaman retrieved a sticky solid from the grease and rinsed it with a waterskin, revealing a crystal covered in fine cracks and streaked with blood. Before Barol could get a good look, the blood-streaked crystal shattered completely, turning into a pile of fine powder.

Barol and Tao De stared at each other. After a long moment, Tao De said, his voice still shaken, “So what that guy meant just now was that he couldn’t reveal any secrets about the Wizard organization or the Bloodlust Legion, otherwise he’d die like a candle?”

“The secret could probably only be told to a designated party. For example, Dodor’s Cunning Fox.” Barol shook his head and gave a bitter smile. “A Wizard organization wants to ally with the Dodor Kingdom… Perhaps we’ve already been exposed.”

Tao De was startled. He suddenly felt countless terrifying eyes watching him from the surrounding forest. “Then should we retreat immediately?” he asked anxiously.

“Yes,” Barol nodded gravely. “We really do need to run for our lives.”

Chapter 447: The Secret of the Legacy

The royal palace of King Friedrich in Isqin.

The King of Dodor rested his arms on the small, round Moonlight Wood table, his eyes fixed on the sheepskin letter in his hands.

The term “sheepskin letter” was generally used to refer to any letter written on hide paper. This particular letter was crafted from tanned calfskin, its texture tight and fine, with a smooth surface on both sides that allowed the quill strokes to appear rich and full. Although its craftsmanship was exquisite and its quality outstanding, for the King of Dodor, calfskin letters like this were a dime a dozen and not worth his attention.

The line of characters written on the letter was elegant and graceful, yet stately and grand, giving the impression of something naturally formed and flawlessly perfect. Even an illiterate commoner could imagine the beautiful scene of a peerless beauty putting pen to paper, but Friedrich saw through the script to the solid weight of the earth element, the searing brilliance of fire, the nimble ethereality of wind, and the unceasing flow of water.

In all the human kingdoms, only Sylvia could so vividly showcase the characteristics of the origin of the world through her writing.

If the words Sylvia wrote with her will, saturated with a Spirit Knight’s understanding of the Elemental Sea, were cherished by high-ranked knights, then the content she wrote sent a shiver of fear down the spine of His Majesty Ausaiberg Friedrich.

The letter contained only a single person’s name—Austin Briart.

“The matter is already quite clear. Sylvia used Sophia’s power to kill Horra Ludwig… This is both revenge and a warning from the Queen of Roses.”

Duke Ludwig tapped a finger on the table. His deep, cold gaze swept past Duenkel before finally landing on the King of Dodor’s face. He said slowly and deliberately, “The question is, why should the Golden Dawn Sparrow family bear the Queen of Roses’ retaliation when it was His Majesty the King who attempted to murder Viscount Randell?”

A month ago, Earl Horace had been killed in an attack within the Dwemick Fief. Marquess Dwemick had borrowed thirty unicorns from the Iron Wall Knights and dispatched three high-ranked knights to pursue the culprits. At the scene of the incident, they encountered Sylvia’s guardian knight—Trisley York.

Even though the high-ranked knights of the Dwemic family were completely confident they could capture the York family’s Raging Wave Knight, they did not dare to make a move. Trisley offered no explanation, simply tossing down a letter personally written by Sylvia before leading the Rose Knights away.

After reading the letter’s content, the head of the Dwemic family immediately went to Duke Duenkel to air his grievances. The implication was clear: the Queen of Roses suspected that the Dodor Kingdom had once tried to use Austin Briart to assassinate Viscount Randell, which resulted in the Kingdom of Gambia losing a Great Knight. Now, the Queen of Roses was taking retaliatory measures, sending someone to assassinate one of Dodor’s Great Knights. This matter originally had nothing to do with the Dwemic family, but Stonetooth City had inexplicably become the scapegoat. Dwemick had to provide an explanation to the Golden Dawn Sparrow family to appease Duke Ludwig’s wrath.

Duenkel firmly denied this accusation but could only let Marquess Dwemick pass the letter on to Ludwig.

As expected, upon receiving the letter written by Sylvia, Duke Ludwig came knocking, aggressively demanding an explanation from the King.

The King of Dodor let out a long breath, dismissed the attendants in the parlor, and shook his head. “She has no proof…”

“She didn’t say you did it, either!”

Duke Ludwig was naturally furious about Horra’s murder. But deep down, he was unwilling to confront Sylvia and the half-goldenized Sophia over a dead Great Knight. However, the dignity of a Gold Knight could not be offended, and the reputation of House Ludwig could not be ignored.

However, Sophia’s decision to relinquish leadership of the Wimbledon Merchant Association within fifteen years had won her the support of the Church and the various kingdoms. The Golden Dawn Sparrow family discovered they had almost no means to retaliate against Sophia. Just as Duke Ludwig was at his wit’s end, the Dwemic family delivered Sylvia’s personal letter.

This letter, which came out of nowhere and contained only a name, brought Duke Ludwig to a sudden realization: Sylvia’s slap was not aimed at the Golden Dawn Sparrow family’s face, but was retaliation against the Dodor Kingdom for getting one of Gambia’s Great Knights killed.

A private grudge between families had turned into a feud between kingdoms, giving Duke Ludwig a way out to redirect the internal pressure.

Horra could not die in vain. But since the Dodor Royal Family had struck the first dark blow, the debt could only be laid at Friedrich’s feet.

How could Duke Ludwig possibly agree to His Majesty the King trying to shirk responsibility?

He cut off the King’s defense, put away the letter, and said coldly, “When Austin clashed with Viscount Randell, Sylvia’s Rose Knights just happened to be in the Duchy of Erickson, in a standoff with the Iron Wall Knights. Otherwise, Austin Briart wouldn’t have dared venture deep into the Randell Fief, and Sylvia would never have let Viscount Randell shoot down one of the kingdom’s Great Knights. Such a coincidence speaks for itself. Sylvia doesn’t need any proof.” After a pause, the Duke added with a sneer, “If she had proof, Your Majesty would already be imprisoned in the Inquisition’s dungeons by Trigovar… and we likewise have no proof that it was Gambian nobles who assassinated Horra.”

Friedrich was extremely frustrated. Back when the Sassans spread rumors that they intended to wed the Eldest Princess of Gambis and make her the Empress of their Empire, the Dodor Kingdom was caught between two great powers to the north and south, in constant danger of being overthrown. The kingdom’s three Protectors were helpless, which was why Friedrich had proposed the plan to win over Sylvia and split Gambia. As the liege lord of Aerie Fortress and Sylvia’s partner, Viscount Randell was the link connecting the two sides. For Cunning Fox to complete the King of Dodor’s mission, he had to eliminate Viscount Randell first.

Duke Ludwig knew about the plan to assassinate Viscount Randell but did not participate. But who could have predicted that Viscount Randell was no ordinary noble with a Moon Elf bloodline, but a Silver-rank Wind Walk Archer? Viscount Randell had become a line that could not be crossed with Sylvia, so Duke Ludwig was even less likely to admit he had any connection to Cunning Fox’s assassination attempt.

It was one thing for Ludwig to deny it, Friedrich would deny it too; Sylvia would retaliate regardless. But what did it mean for Duke Ludwig to use something they all denied to accuse the King?

Friedrich remained silent. Beside him, Duke Duenkel tried to smooth things over. “Austin Briart’s death has nothing to do with us. Earl Horace being attacked by bandits has nothing to do with Marchioness Wimbledon. The kingdom will certainly give an account for Earl Horace’s misfortune.”

“I’m listening,” Duke Ludwig said, interlocking his fingers in a gesture of attentiveness.

Friedrich mulled it over for a moment before speaking. “Bandits run rampant in the Dwemick Fief, which led to Horra’s death in an ambush. Marquess Dwemick must be held accountable for his negligence. The Senate will order the Dwemic family to compensate House Ludwig with six hundred thousand Gold Sol, and they will be barred from participating in the buyout of the northern territories. The Dwemic family’s buyout rights will be transferred to House Ludwig.”

“Didn’t the Church demand that Dwemick be stripped of his title?” Duke Ludwig asked faintly.

“Well… Dwemick is, after all, a great lord of the Dodor Kingdom. Sylvia is targeting him, perhaps with some other scheme in mind.” Friedrich offered an apologetic smile. “Uncle Walter, you are Maeve’s father. As the Queen’s family in Dodor, House Ludwig must consider the kingdom’s interests.”

“Ausaiberg, I don’t care if you protect Dwemick,” Duke Ludwig said, eyeing the King with a half-smile. “Since you know I am Maeve’s father, and since the Golden Dawn Sparrows are the Dodor Kingdom’s royal in-laws, then please, Your Majesty, explain to me the matter of the Bloodlust Legion.”

“The Bloodlust Legion?”

Duke Duenkel’s eyes narrowed. He asked in a grave voice, “Ausaiberg, what is this Bloodlust Legion? I need an explanation.”

“Duen, allow me to explain,” Duke Ludwig interjected. “Her Majesty the Queen sent word to me, her father, that Ausaiberg is secretly building an extraordinary legion. Every soldier in this legion possesses the Bloodlust talent, enabling them to increase their strength and speed by fifty percent, reaching the level of an initial-rank Knight for a quarter of an hour.”

“Isn’t that the effect of the Bloodboil Potion?” Duenkel asked with a frown.

“No! It far surpasses the efficacy of the Bloodboil Potion. It’s nearly equivalent to the Bloodlust talent of a Gnoll,” Ludwig stated coldly.

Friedrich shook his head with a bitter smile. “Maeve is truly too reckless…”

“Reckless?” Duke Ludwig said angrily. “In the eyes of outsiders, Friedrich and Ludwig are one and the same. Sylvia’s revenge on Ludwig is equivalent to revenge on Friedrich, and Horra died because of it. Yet you kept this from the Queen, from the Queen’s family with whom you share a blood tie, to secretly form a Bloodlust Legion. And now you have the gall to call the Queen reckless? Ausaiberg, are you planning to renounce the marriage alliance pact between House Friedrich and House Ludwig that has lasted for 680 years?”

“I also kept it from Uncle Duenkel!”

Friedrich stated calmly, “The formation of the Bloodlust Legion involves Wizards. The fewer people who know, the better. I kept it from you to protect the Queen and the Protectors of the Kingdom. Once I am ready, how could the Bloodlust Legion possibly be kept from the Queen? Uncle Walter, you are overthinking things.”

Duke Ludwig reined in his anger and followed the King’s tone. “The late King was my cousin. Even if the Bloodlust Legion involves Wizards, the Golden Dawn Sparrows are not afraid to bear the responsibility as Dodor’s royal in-laws.”

Duenkel let out a cold snort, his face grim. “Ausaiberg, since when can a king of House Friedrich form a ‘Bloodlust Legion’ behind the backs of the Family Guardians?” If Duke Ludwig’s anger was feigned, his was genuine.

Friedrich said with a苦 smile, “Uncle, the Bloodlust Legion might also involve the Church’s Inquisition. I had to be cautious.”

“How could Wizards be connected to the Church’s Inquisition?” Duenkel asked, confused.

“Let’s put that question aside for now. Let’s talk about the Bloodlust Legion.”

The King of Dodor shook his head and said, “The Boreans hired the Masked Brotherhood to suppress the Stag Merchants’ Guild. Their activities in Isqin were under Cunning Fox’s close surveillance. Cunning Fox discovered that among the Masked Brotherhood’s enforcers, a portion were secret art death commandos who possessed the Bloodlust talent. The Brotherhood calls these men Bloodguards. Cunning Fox captured one of them alive.”

“After testing, we found that the Bloodguards possess a Physique that surpasses ordinary people, with strength comparable to an initial-rank apprentice knight who has resonated with three Elemental Nodes. Furthermore, a Bloodguard can activate their Bloodlust talent once every hour, drastically increasing their strength, agility, and speed, making them no less formidable than an ordinary initial-rank Knight.” Friedrich said with a hint of pride, “You should know what Bloodguards mean for the kingdom.”

Knights needed soldiers to act as their eyes, ears, and claws, to cover all directions and execute various tactics. Only through tight coordination could a knight’s squad form perceptive, mobile, combat, and survival capabilities that surpassed individual limits. But in certain special environments, ordinary elite soldiers would actually slow down a knight’s mobility. For instance, dense forests where warhorses could not penetrate.

The Dodor Kingdom was about to open up the Great Plains and the Ghost Forest, both of which were filled with Gnolls that posed a huge threat to warhorses. Although the unicorn war beasts bred by Dodor were not afraid of Gnolls, their food supply was a serious problem. If Dodor’s knights had the support of Bloodguards, their combat effectiveness and survivability would be greatly enhanced.

Duke Duenkel’s heart leaped, and he pressed, “Can the training method for Bloodguards be widely implemented?”

“Of course,” Friedrich nodded with a smile. “It’s even simpler than you might imagine… Training Bloodguards requires only three things: a Wizard, a Bloodlust Potion, and raw sugar.”

Duke Ludwig followed up, “I want the recipe for the Bloodlust Potion.”

“The recipe can be yours. However, without a Wizard to imbue it with magic, a bloodlust potion is ultimately not a magical potion,” the King of Dodor said with a sly smile.

Duke Ludwig thought for a moment and said, “Your Majesty, I won’t hide it from you. House Ludwig does indeed have a few Wizards… What price must I pay for you to give me the method for a Wizard to imbue it with magic?”

Duenkel’s eyes flashed, and he deliberately interjected, “Magical potions? Weren’t magical potions lost to time?”

“That is also what I would like to know,” Ludwig said faintly. “The Lord of Radiance changed the Laws of the world, cutting off the connection between Wizards and the Elemental Sea. This led to a sharp decline in the power of the Chosen, and the Church cut off their magic legacy. Wizards today cast spells based on innate talent; they don’t understand the application of magic, let alone how to create magical potions.”

“However, there are always exceptions. Over a thousand years ago, the Moon Bear family of the Teutonic Duchy was just a minor family in the Iron Mountain Empire. All their knights died in the Beastmen War, their knight’s bloodline was severed, and they lost their lands and their name, ending up struggling to survive in the northern tundra. According to the rules of the Radiant Code, this family was extinct. But then they suddenly mastered a method to breed Moon Bear war beasts. With the power of these war beasts, they established a foothold in the northern tundra, took Moon Bear as their family name, absorbed wandering knights, and founded the Teutonic Duchy.”

“The moon bears of the northern tundra are merely ordinary beasts, but after being bred by the Moon Bear family, their physique, form, habits, and intelligence underwent astonishing changes. They could even intimidate the barbarians from the mountains!”

“An ancestor of House Ludwig investigated this matter. There were signs indicating that the Moon Bear family was not using an Aberration Potion, but a type of magical potion.”

Duke Ludwig paused, then continued, “Around the same time as the rise of the Moon Bears, another earth-shattering event occurred in the human kingdoms.”

“The Pantheon Uprising!” Duenkel said grimly.

The air in the parlor instantly grew heavy and stifling, as if even sound could not travel.

Ludwig waved his hand, dispelling the strange phenomenon of the void earth element. He then said, “There are no outsiders here, so I might as well speak bluntly…”

Duenkel’s heart froze. Duke Ludwig was even more powerful than he had imagined, definitely ranking among the top ten Gold Knights.

“In terms of heritage, House Friedrich is still somewhat lacking compared to the Dawn Sparrow family.” Ludwig glanced at Duenkel and said faintly, “During that period, it was fashionable for lords to keep Wizards, and the Church could do nothing about it. There were two reasons. First, facing the threat from the northern beastmen tribes, the Iron Mountain Empire needed to rely on the extraordinary power of Wizards. Second, the Iron Mountain Empire was powerful, and the Knight-Nobles had deeply infiltrated the Church, weakening the Pope’s authority.”

“Some high-ranking members of the Church believed that the Wizards kept by the lords had no legacy of their own and also believed in the Lord of Radiance, so they posed no great threat to the Church. Some extremist clerics even clamored for the establishment of a black-robed order to place the lords’ Wizards under the Church’s jurisdiction…”

Friedrich nodded. “You’re speaking of Uleric. He was the first person the Inquisition burned at the stake.”

“That fool demanded that the nobles hand over their Wizards. He threatened the interests of all the lords, so of course he had to be burned,” Duke Ludwig said with a contemptuous smile, before changing the subject. “Uleric was burned, but his vision lived on, and even became a reality. The person secretly pushing this matter was none other than the Trigoval family, who control the Inquisition.”

Duke Ludwig fell silent for a moment, then suddenly asked, “Ausaiberg, did you say earlier that the Bloodlust Potion involved Wizards and the Inquisition?”

Friedrich hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yes. Cunning Fox had dealings with a Wizard organization. The Masked Brotherhood’s Bloodguards are secret art death commandos secretly trained by that organization. Cunning Fox managed to capture one of their Wizards, and from him, we extracted the method to imbue the Bloodlust Potion.”

Duenkel’s eyes lit up as he interjected, “Magical potions require the Chosen’s legacy, and the Chosen’s legacy was never truly broken. It has always been in the hands of the Church… or rather, in the hands of Inoc’s descendants. Could the mastermind behind that Wizard organization be the Pope?”

“Heh, if it were the Pope, Inoc’s descendants would not have lost their divine authority.”

Ludwig laughed heartily. “I, on the other hand, believe that the mastermind behind that Wizard organization is the Inquisition—more precisely, the Trigoval family.”

“Trigovar tricked the Pope out of the Chosen’s legacy, single-handedly orchestrated the Pantheon Uprising, then used the pressure from the Pantheon to establish the religious inquisition, and finally, murdered the Pope and all the cardinal bishops.”

“Their goal in doing all this was to take revenge on the descendants of Sword Saint Draven, reclaim the throne of Grand Commander of the Radiant Knights, and seize the ultimate power in the human kingdoms!”

Chapter 448: The Inquisition and the Wizards

Negotiations between nobles were filled with intimidation and lies. Each party sought to exploit imbalances in information to gain influence, hoping to make their opponent submit without a fight.

At a time like this, showing weakness meant making concessions.

Unwilling to show weakness before Duke Ludwig, King Friedrich said after a moment of silence, “These secrets about the Pantheon and the Inquisition are merely the speculations of House Ludwig’s successive generations of scholars.”

“Speculations based on historical fact,” Duke Ludwig replied with a confident, elegant smile. “Don’t forget the Dawn Sparrow sigil of House Ludwig.”

A family crest reflects the origins and traditions of a house. Families originating from court guards generally used shields or armor for their crests; those of military generals used various weapons; Pioneer Lords used some kind of fierce beast; and families that arose from personal attendants often chose objects related to their duties. For example, a carriage crest indicated the family’s patriarch was once the master of carriages for a great noble, a mill represented a master of kitchens, and a hound, a master of the hunt.

House Ludwig rose during the golden age of the Iron Mountain Empire. As court nobles of the Empire, they chose the Dawn Sparrow as their family crest. The song of the Dawn Sparrow marks the beginning of a new day. The founder of House Ludwig was specifically responsible for the daily living arrangements of the Iron Mountain imperial family—in layman’s terms, they were the personal attendants who made the beds, folded the linens, and woke their masters.

The Empire’s landed lords looked down upon court nobles who came from the attendant class. In truth, however, the influence a court attendant had on their liege lord, and their invisible power over the landed lords, could not be underestimated.

The reason was simple: a king or lord was most concerned with how their power could remain unrestricted in the process of enfeoffment. Thus, a lord detested freemen and would always elevate unfree subjects to be their vassals, granting them a certain degree of power and high social status—a stable master, a blacksmith, or a personal attendant, for example.

Furthermore, primitive communication methods meant that the king needed trustworthy people to serve as couriers, conveying his will to the lords and mobilizing vast armies. And these couriers were often court nobles who had started as attendants.

One must never assume that court nobles were merely sycophantic, greedy, lecherous good-for-nothings. A king does not keep fools by his side, for fools do not last long there. The court attendants who managed to distinguish themselves possessed the virtues of loyalty, profound knowledge, and outstanding talent.

For over two thousand years, the Dawn Sparrow family grew and spread its branches, successively serving the Iron Mountain imperial family, the Lante imperial family, and co-founding the Dodor Kingdom with Friedrich. One branch even followed Auguste of Gambis. They spent every day with their liege lords, enjoying freedom of speech in court, acting as listeners and advisors. The court secrets they knew were beyond the imagination of ordinary people.

When Duke Ludwig said that House Friedrich’s foundations were shallow compared to the Dawn Sparrow family, it was no empty boast.

Duke Duenkel nodded and added, “During the Era of the Chosen, Wizards tried to use Blood Sacrifices to help their kinsmen and proteges master extraordinary power. In the end, what the ancient Wizards failed to do, the Radiant Church accomplished. The difference between the two lies in blood sacrifice versus faith. Considering the special connection between faith and holy power, it’s not hard to see that Trigovar indeed had a reason to orchestrate the Pantheon and establish the religious inquisition.”

Through records and statistics, the great families with long histories discovered that the fewer believers the Lord of Radiance had, the fewer clergy the Church had. But the proportion of clergy members remained unchanged. This meant that the Paladin families, priests, and Sacred Warriors divided the power of faith according to the proportions set by the first Pope.

The Nachtigal family had served as the Pope’s personal guards for generations, so they were allocated the fewest Paladin positions. The Radiant Knights were dedicated fighting forces, so the family of its Grand Commander ranked first among the Seven Great Paladin Families and received the most Paladin appointments. The Pope, however, was the one who decided the ranking of the Paladin families, and by this, he controlled the other six.

Duke Ludwig gave Duenkel an appreciative look and nodded. “Three thousand years ago, the Trigovar family was deeply trusted by the Pope and served as the Grand Commander of the Radiant Knights. They had the largest number of Paladins and were immensely powerful. Even the Testier family had to marry off Alijie, the only female Gold Knight in the order, to a Trigovar in order to vie for the second-place ranking among Paladin families.”

“Later, Alijie was captivated by His Majesty Draven Wimbledon and abandoned Trigovar…” At this, Ludwig smiled with a hint of disdain. “It’s quite amusing, really. The Sacred Domain is both a Paladin’s advantage and their weakness… This divine art lessens the corrosion of the Elemental Sea on Gold Paladins, allowing their lifespans to reach their limits and enabling them to use the Elemental Domain of a Legendary Knight. But it also makes them emotional. Alijie was hopelessly lost in the Sword Saint’s charm, while Trigovar, out of jealousy, committed a series of foolish acts… He not only lost his own life but also condemned his family to a state from which it has yet to recover.”

“The legendary Ogre King, City-Smasher Vulcan, united the Centaurs, Ogres, Gnolls, Satyrs, and Goblins to attack the human kingdoms. The beastmen army was unstoppable, and the Anz Empire was shattered. At the time, the only way to turn the tide was to kill the Ogre King Vulcan, causing the beastmen army to fracture so they could be defeated one by one.”

“However, under the watchful eyes of a ring of Ogre Warlords, assassinating the legendary Ogre King was easier said than done.”

“The lords proposed two plans to decapitate the beastmen leadership: either ask the Spirit Knight, Veronica Baselius, to act, or have Pope Paul III sound the Golden Horn to summon a Radiant Angel. But either option carried the risk of one of humanity’s two greatest powerhouses falling in battle.” Duke Ludwig shook his head. “Neither side could make a decision, and so a stalemate ensued… At the most dangerous moment, Draven, for Empress Veronica’s sake, volunteered to slay the legendary Ogre. But he needed someone to draw away the Ogre King’s guards. Yet, jealousy had clouded Grand Commander Trigovar’s mind. He insisted that His Holiness the Pope should act and refused to dispatch the Radiant Knights to assist Draven. In the end, it was Alijie who led two legendary Paladins from the Testier family, along with Empress Veronica, to draw away the Ogre Warlord guards, allowing His Majesty Draven to win his fame in a single battle!”

King Friedrich laughed. “You can’t really blame Trigovar. At the time, no one knew that Inoc’s descendants were not the first Pope. Paul III was already so weak he couldn’t even sound the Golden Horn, but he had to keep this a secret. Trigovar was still trying to use the Pope to establish the authority of the clergy, but his attempt to curry favor backfired spectacularly.”

Duke Ludwig smiled and said, “Draven returned with the City-Smasher’s head. Pope Paul III was overjoyed and befriended Draven. He even personally baptized Draven and Alijie’s child, thus de facto recognizing their marriage. Alijie became the Grand Commander of the Radiant Knights, and the Testier family rose to the first rank among the Paladin families. The Trigovar family fell from grace, sliding to the bottom of the Paladin rankings.”

“In desperation, Trigovar challenged Draven to a knightly duel, and with his life, he cemented Draven’s title as Sword Saint.”

Duke Duenkel pondered for a moment, then said with a sigh, “From another perspective, Trigovar made the most correct choice at the time. If His Majesty Draven’s assassination attempt had failed, the legendary Paladins acting as decoys would have all been hunted down and killed by the berserk Ogre King; no one would have escaped. Gold Knights aren’t lettuce heads growing in a field; the Paladin families couldn’t afford such a loss. With the Radiant Knights not acting, Empress Veronica, unwilling to let her lover risk his life alone, had no choice but to cooperate with Draven. The Spirit Knight’s participation was enough to ensure the assassination plan’s success. Grand Commander Trigovar preserved the Gold Knights of the Seven Great Paladin Families, laying the first seed for Trigovar’s eventual resurgence.”

“His Majesty Draven turned the tide, gaining immense prestige. He had children with the Spirit Knight and founded the Iron Mountain Empire. The Sword Saint’s secular influence surpassed the Pope’s, and his close relationship with the Radiant Knights made the Pope wary. It was at this moment that Trigovar challenged His Majesty Draven to a duel. Only the Pope had the authority to stop Trigovar, yet not only did he not stop it, he even had Grand Commander Alijie stand by and do nothing. This shows that the Pope also hoped Trigovar could eliminate Draven.”

“If Trigovar had won the duel, his reputation would have been ruined, but he would have demonstrated his loyalty. Even if he wasn’t heavily rewarded by the Pope for it, his family would have regained the favor of the papal line. If Trigovar died in battle, it would have shown the Paladin families the Pope’s true face.”

“This was the second seed he planted.”

“The Pope’s will was corrupted by supreme power, his mind clouded. He lacked the responsibility and courage of a leader and thus lost the support of the masses,” the Commander of the Iron Wall Knights said.

King Friedrich fell silent for a moment before remarking with emotion, “A king’s bearing is defined by the responsibility and courage shown in the face of peril. This is the source of the papal line’s decline.”

Duke Ludwig nodded. “The duel between Trigovar and Draven created an irreparable rift between the six great Paladin families and the Pope, leading to the political landscape of today. But in the process, many other intriguing historical events occurred.”

“Over the next fifteen hundred years, the situation Pope Paul III feared came to pass. The descendants of the Testier family carried the bloodline of the Sword Saint Draven and were regarded by the knight-lords of the Iron Mountain Empire as their ‘invisible liege’ and ‘knightly liege.’ Many noble clergy within the Church used their connections to the Testier family to climb to high positions. The other five Paladin families, through marriage alliances with the Iron Mountain knight-nobility, also gathered around the Testiers. Although the Pope controlled the distribution of holy power, they could not shake the Testier family’s status among the clergy. The Testiers held a firm grip on the position of Grand Commander of the Radiant Knights, while the other four major Paladin families took turns as vice-commander. Only Trigovar’s ranking remained at the very bottom.”

“Checks, balances, and interests,” the King of Dodor stated, his expression calm.

“The Pope hated being checked, the common and noble clergy needed to be balanced, and Trigovar wanted a larger share of Paladin appointments,” Duke Ludwig interjected. “By the end of the Iron Mountain Empire, Pope Jacob ordered the formation of the religious inquisition to deal with the increasingly rampant wizard organizations… What wizard organizations did the Iron Mountain Empire have? The lords were unanimous in their belief that the Pope was using this as an excuse to sanction secular lords and strike at the noble factions within the Church. Just as the religious inquisition faced resistance, a wizard orchestrated the infamous Kadir Village Massacre, leaving the mark of the Pantheon at the scene.”

“The Pantheon had risen from the ashes.”

Duke Ludwig sneered, “The Pantheon had been extinct for thousands of years. Their symbols existed only in the historical documents of knightly families and the Church. How could a new generation of Wizards possibly know about the Pantheon? Everyone believed this ‘Pantheon’ was something Jacob had cooked up…” He paused, then shook his head. “After some debate, Pope Jacob appointed His Highness Bethel of the Testier family as the Director of the Inquisition, with Godelac Trigovar as his deputy. Only then did the secular lords and the clergy reach a compromise on the matter of the religious inquisition.”

“However, the Archwizard of the Pantheon, Claire, actually killed the legendary Paladin, His Highness Bethel! In the battle, all the noble clergy within the Inquisition were killed, but Godelac Trigovar was not present.”

“Claire easily annihilated the main force of the Inquisition. If she could crush Bethel, she could kill anyone! The clergy and secular lords were all terrified for their own safety. Trigovar took over as Director of the Inquisition, set up a scheme to lead the Pantheon into a trap, and had the Wizards and Pope Jacob’s faction perish together, including Jacob’s most trusted high-ranking commoner clergy.”

“From then on, the papal line was sidelined. The Radiant Knights gained control over the distribution of holy power. The Testier family ranked first, the Trigovar family ranked second, serving as vice-commander for generations and also presiding over the religious inquisition.” Duke Ludwig concluded, “The fact is, Trigovar first cooperated with the Pope to orchestrate the Pantheon, and then ultimately sided with the Paladin Faction.”

The King of Dodor exchanged a look with Duke Duenkel and asked, “Regarding the Pantheon Uprising, I have two points of doubt that I’ve never figured out… According to the documents collected by House Friedrich, after Archwizard Claire and her brother annihilated Bethel’s main force, the Pantheon vanished without a trace. How did Godelac lure them out? Second, the Lord of Radiance severed the connection between Wizards and the Elemental Sea. Where did Claire and her brother get their extraordinary power?”

Duke Ludwig smiled reservedly. “Only a very small number of families know that Claire fell in love with a handsome and elegant young nobleman. Trigovar used her beloved to set the trap.”

“Who was that man… no, I want to know which family the Archwizard’s lover belonged to,” King Friedrich asked, his gaze burning.

Duke Ludwig was silent for a moment before he slowly said, “The Iron Mountain imperial line split into several branches. That family was from the branch last in the line of succession… They now command the Griffin Knights and occupy the western territories of the Sasan Empire.”

“So it was an ancestor of Uthain Baselius!” the King of Dodor exclaimed, slapping the table. “I was wondering why they would suddenly abandon their rich fiefs and migrate their entire clan westward. So they were trying to use Claire’s power to seize the imperial throne, but fell into the trap set by the Pope and Trigovar… Heh, this exiled branch of the Baselius family, on the contrary, managed to preserve its strength in the subsequent beastmen wars and carry the banner of the Iron Mountain Empire. A pity that the Testiers hate them to the bone, preferring to support the Feliett family and establish the Sasan Empire just to push them out of the core of power.”

“As for the second question, I don’t have a clear answer here…” Duke Ludwig nodded, his deep eyes fixed on the King as he calmly asked, “Why are you concerned about the extraordinary power of Claire and her brother?”

“Uncle Walter already has his suspicions.”

King Friedrich smiled openly. “I want to cooperate with the Wizards outside, but I must first clarify two key issues. First, are they currently under the control of the Inquisition? Second, can evil gods still influence this wizard organization?”

“I believe that if Trigovar had the chance to become the first Paladin family, they would absolutely not want to be second. Therefore, they weren’t planning for Pope Jacob to die, but how could Claire and her brother, being so powerful, allow themselves to be manipulated by the Pope and the Inquisition? Jacob’s battle to establish authority and consolidate power became the death knell for the papal line. It’s possible that before his death, Jacob entrusted the Golden Horn to Trigovar to bring back to the Holy See, but Trigovar saw the weakness of the papal bloodline and instead handed the artifact for distributing holy power to Grand Commander Testier. Because the Trigovars are also knights; they know full well how terrifying the Stormwind Paladins are, and they know that commoner clergy are no match for noble clergy.”

“The Church’s military strength was severely damaged, and the Iron Mountain Empire was on the brink of collapse. The hidebound papal line was mediocre and incompetent. Under their rule, the population dwindled, and with it, the power of faith. Rather than let the papal line remain in power, it was better to let the knight-nobility clean up the mess and regroup. In any case, Trigovar only wanted a larger share of holy power… If it were me, I would have made the same choice.” At this point, the King of Dodor shook his head. “Besides holy power, Paladins also need Divine Favor to raise the level of their divine arts.”

“Trigovar presides over the religious inquisition, relying on hunting Wizards to obtain Divine Favor. However, the awakening of a Wizard’s talent is too discreet, and the Inquisition’s knights don’t encounter them easily. Trigovar thought of farming them, using a wizard organization to gather Wizards, with their lair set up in the most chaotic Eastern Alliance! The Masked Brotherhood, controlled by the Inquisition, became the public face of this wizard organization.”

“But how could Wizards with extraordinary power possibly be willing to be treated like dogs and pigs? Once they have a legacy, knowledge, wealth, and power, they ultimately want to become nobles. Just like the Moon Bear family founded by Wizards, and Claire falling in love with a young nobleman… The bloodline and beauty of a knight hold an irresistible attraction for Wizards. This has been true from the ancient Chosen to the Wizards of today.”

Ludwig suddenly asked, “What conditions did those Wizards offer you?”

“A noblewoman of a true knight’s bloodline, a lordship, and the kingdom’s protection,” King Friedrich sneered. “Their appetites aren’t large, and their lifespans are short… For us, keeping Wizards is simply a matter of being accommodating.”

Duke Ludwig frowned. “So, you haven’t obtained the method for concocting the magical potions yet?”

“Not at all,” King Friedrich said, shaking his head. “The Bloodlust Potion is very harmful to a person. After consuming it, it’s easy to go insane or die; the success rate is very low. Those Wizards proposed an effective solution: the soldier first consumes fifteen pounds of raw sugar. That way, the potion won’t directly drain his stamina before it starts siphoning his life force. Those Wizards have a female wizard apprentice who can soothe a person’s mind, ensuring the soldier won’t go mad from the potion.”

Duke Ludwig’s mouth twitched. He said, his face expressionless, “Whoever controls that female wizard apprentice controls the appointments of Bloodlust Warriors?”

King Friedrich spread his hands and smiled smugly. “Uncle Walter, those Wizards clearly trust the King more.”

“I’m more concerned about whether these Wizards who have come knocking on our door are a trap set by the Trigovar family!” the Commander of the Iron Wall Knights interjected, displeased.

“Unlikely.” The King of Dodor shook his head again. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “That… Cunning Fox hired that wizard organization to assassinate Viscount Randell. There are signs they did indeed make a move… The assassination failed, Viscount Randell was exposed as a Wind Walk Archer, and that wizard organization immediately cut off all contact with Cunning Fox and vanished without a trace.”

The Dodor Royal Family only keeps loyal vassal Wizards. Cunning Fox sold the kingdom’s unaffiliated Wizards to the mysterious wizard organization in exchange for their assistance. This limited cooperation model corroborates the theory that the Inquisition is farming Wizards. But the Trigovar family would absolutely not provoke a Spirit Knight just to round up one or two rogue Wizards.

If Viscount Randell had been assassinated, an enraged Sylvia would certainly have forced the Pope to use the Great Divination to find the true culprit. In that case, the Inquisition’s secret of farming Wizards would have been exposed to the world, and Trigovar would be finished. Therefore, after Viscount Randell killed Austin, Trigovar decisively withdrew the wizard organization from the Dodor Kingdom. Since those Wizards carried out the assassination attempt, it shows that the Trigovar family’s control over them is limited, most likely operating through a single line of contact.

The wizard organization is loosely structured with numerous factions. It wouldn’t be out of the question for the Dodor Kingdom to swallow up two or three useful Wizards.

Duke Duenkel instantly understood the connections and nodded silently, signifying his approval of the plan to form the Bloodlust Legion. But King Friedrich said worriedly, “The Inquisition wouldn’t dare to make a big fuss about this with us. What I’m worried about is whether there are evil gods behind those Wizards. The struggle between Claire, her brother, and the Church was very likely influenced by evil gods.”

“Even if the power of Claire and her brother came from evil gods, they still lost to the Lord of Radiance!”

At this moment, Duke Ludwig couldn’t let the King back down. He said, “The Wizards we keep can’t hear the whispers of evil gods at all now. At most, they hear a few fragmented, meaningless sounds. It’s obvious that the power of evil gods cannot penetrate the Lord of Radiance’s influence to affect the real world.”

The King of Dodor sighed, his brow furrowed in worry. “I hope so.”

Ludwig thought for a moment, then added, “I speculate that the power of Claire and her brother may have come from a sacred object of the barbarians.”

“During the Era of the Chosen, before the Pantheon Wizards fled south, they gathered their remaining strength, ventured deep into Arreat, and seized a sacred object of the barbarians. The value of a sacred object is self-evident. The ancient Wizards failed to take the object with them. For 1500 years ago, the sacred object appeared in the hands of the Iron Mountain Empire’s ‘Pantheon’—or perhaps it was part of the Pope’s collection all along. After Claire and her brother were eliminated, it was a critical period of power struggle among the Paladin families. Yet, a legendary Paladin from House Trigovar traveled thousands of miles, tracking a wizard who had fled with the sacred object all the way to the Assyrian Empire in the Endless Forest.”

“On what grounds could the Trigovar family’s legendary highness have destroyed the Assyrian Empire’s evil god altar? It’s possible that the sacred object is already gone.”

King Friedrich nodded. “Mm, that makes sense.”

Duke Duenkel was somewhat dismissive of the King’s caution. “Your Majesty, if we refuse the Wizards’ Bloodlust Potion, they can just as easily go to Gambis, Naville, or the Baselius family of the Sasan Empire. If the Baselius family forms a Bloodlust Legion, our pioneering strategy can be declared a failure. The most important thing now is to control that female wizard apprentice. As for evil gods and barbarian sacred objects, those are not problems the Dodor Kingdom needs to consider. Have we been paying our tithes for nothing?”

“I’ve been overthinking things,” King Friedrich said, shaking his head with a self-deprecating laugh.

“Instead of worrying about some mysterious evil god, you should be worrying about Sylvia and Viscount Randell,” Duke Ludwig reminded him from the side. “Perhaps Viscount Randell could become the next Sword Saint. Sylvia killed an Earl of House Ludwig, so the matter of the assassination attempt on Viscount Randell is considered closed.”

A Spirit Knight couldn’t possibly overthrow a kingdom with personal might alone, of course. But behind Sylvia stood all the knight-lords of Gambis. If she were to lead an army onto the battlefield, Dodor’s Gold Knights would have to hide in their castles, watching helplessly as the Gambis army besieged their cities and plundered their lands, while Dodor’s noble families would surrender at the first sight of her.

In the eyes of a knight, a Spirit Knight was like an incarnation of the Elemental Sea. This unique sentiment was almost akin to faith; knights felt no psychological burden in bowing their heads to a Spirit Knight.

A Sword Saint had a similar effect, and his political influence was even more far-reaching than a Spirit Knight’s. At the very least, high-ranking female knights were more than willing to get close to a Sun Elf, including the legendary female knights of the Paladin families.

Sylvia had avenged Victor, thus eliminating a hidden threat to the Dodor Kingdom. And House Ludwig had paid the price for it.

King Friedrich said in a heavy tone, “Then we’ll proceed according to the unicorn’s distribution plan. For every Bloodlust Warrior the Royal Family trains, we will train one for House Ludwig. However, when we pioneer the Ghost Forest and the Great Plains, I want to see House Ludwig’s army there. But I will be the one to distribute the newly pioneered lands.”

Duke Ludwig rose and bowed. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

Chapter 449: Council President Charlie

A biting wind howled as snowflakes danced, blanketing the world in a vast expanse of white. Davo City, standing alone in the fields, was quickly dyed the color of the swirling snow.

Davo City was located in the center of the Eastern Alliance, its scale smaller than the main town of an ordinary baron’s fief. Twenty-meter-high walls enclosed an area of fourteen square kilometers, which was home to three kings, six dukes, and fifteen marquesses. No matter how small Davo City was, it could never be called Davo Town.

Of course, the kings, dukes, and marquesses of Davo City were all self-proclaimed; their influence did not even extend throughout the entire city. However, they did indeed possess the bloodlines and surnames of Knights. According to the rules of the Radiant Code, a legitimate territory required three elements: a priest, a Knight, and the common people.

This small city was surrounded by 120,000 mu of pastureland and a river. In the eastern plains, which were overrun with Devil Grass, its natural conditions were exceptionally favorable. Moreover, Davo City was only a fifty-four-day carriage ride from the Kingdom of Borea, and a caravan could reach the border towns of the Kingdom of Sus in no more than seventy days.

The two great kingdoms of Borea and Sus had granted all the down-and-out Nobles of Davo City the title of kingdom lordship and, in their names, carved out roads and built supply posts along the routes. Over time, the city had become an important trade hub and resting point for traveling merchants in the Eastern Alliance.

Davo City did not produce grain, yet it was quite prosperous, with a permanent population exceeding eight thousand. During the rainy and snowy seasons, when the roads became slick and difficult to traverse, large caravans would stay in Davo City for two months, waiting for the ice and snow to melt in the spring before setting out for their destinations. The caravans brought a dazzling array of goods and bulging coin purses. The city was filled with grand shops, taverns, and inns. People flowed through the streets under the heavy, goose-feather snow, bustling with a lively energy that completely defied the desolate chill of the Season of Water.

Bang! With a loud crash, a figure burst through the tavern’s wooden door and tumbled into the center of the street, causing pedestrians to cry out and dodge. It was a sturdy, middle-aged man with graying hair. His magnificent fur coat was covered in filth and seemed to bear the scorch marks of a fire. He was curled into a strange position, twitching on the ground, clearly in shock.

“It’s Master Liber of the Gray Rabbit Caravan!”

A sharp-eyed onlooker recognized the victim’s identity. The crowd of spectators immediately erupted into an uproar.

“It really is Master Liber.”

“This is going to be interesting.”

“Who dares to cause trouble in Davo City? What nerve!”

“Quick, go notify the mercenary guards of the Brotherhood… A few of you, help get Master Liber to the Church. If he dies here, it will ruin our reputation.”

Davo City was a place where all sorts of people gathered; fighting and brawling were commonplace, and a death or two was nothing to make a fuss about. But no one could openly harm a patron of Davo City.

The caravans were the patrons of Davo City.

Master Liber of the Gray Rabbit Caravan was known for his generosity and open-handedness, making him very popular among the residents of Davo City. Moreover, the Gray Rabbit Caravan was an enterprise of the Masked Brotherhood, and seven out of every ten residents here were peripheral members of the Brotherhood. The fact that a caravan leader from the Brotherhood had been seriously injured on the Brotherhood’s own turf instantly ignited the residents’ fury.

However, the Brotherhood was divided into three major factions and more than twenty different powers. Liber might well have been injured by a rival within the Brotherhood. The surrounding crowd maintained a basic level of restraint, but they had subtly split into several large and small groups, facing off against one another. With swords drawn and bows bent, they were ready to clash at any moment.

Before long, the mercenary guards of Davo City rushed to the scene. The mercenary Captain leading them checked Liber’s breathing, then lifted his eyelids to check his pupils, nodding to indicate that his life was not in immediate danger. Just as the mercenary guards were about to carry Liber away, a shrill voice rang out:

“No one is to touch him!”

A short, fat old man strode out of the tavern. He was dressed in a luxurious bearskin coat, his face pale and his eye bags heavy, giving him an air of frivolity born from excessive indulgence.

Upon seeing him, the mercenary Captain’s ferocious expression instantly morphed into a fawning smile. Nodding and bowing obsequiously, he said, “Esteemed Father Bierka, you’re here as well?”

The Nobles of Davo City had nothing to do all day but either host lavish banquets or work on producing heirs. The city’s administration had nothing to do with the Nobles; Father Bierka was the one who truly held power. In the name of Davo City’s Nobles, he hired mercenary companies from the Masked Brotherhood to maintain Order, collect taxes from passing merchants, and then distribute the earnings to every mercenary Guard.

Father Bierka nodded with a dignified and reserved air. Pointing at the unconscious Liber, he screeched, “He is an evil Wizard!”

The crowd scattered as if a bomb had gone off. The mercenary Guards scrambled away, hiding in the throng and shivering so hard they could barely hold their one-handed spears steady. Two unfamiliar men, both sturdy figures with a calm demeanor, walked through the shattered tavern door, lifted Liber by the arms, and dragged him toward the town’s Church.

Only then did the revelers inside the tavern cautiously poke their heads out, beginning to discuss the event with a mixture of lingering fear and thrilled excitement.

“That scared me to death… To think Liber was a child of the Devils.”

“I saw it! A fireball the size of a human head shot out of his hand… It must have been a Devil’s hellfire.”

“Supreme Lord above… Liber was going to burn the whole city down to please his Devil parents. Thank goodness the Evildoer couldn’t escape Esteemed Father’s eyes.”

“Praise the Supreme Lord! I saw that Warrior knock the Devil’s child flying with a wave of his hand. Even that terrifying hellfire couldn’t harm him in the slightest.”

“You frog-eating fool! Didn’t you see? That Warrior is a noble and upright Paladin!”

Only then did the people on the street notice a mysterious figure, completely wrapped in a cloak, standing beside Esteemed Father Bierka. This must be the legendary Paladin.

The populace believed that noble Paladins were the embodiment of justice and strength. Tales of Paladins battling evil Wizards were things they had only heard in the songs of Bards. Today, they had witnessed with their own eyes a Paladin defeat a Wizard and save Davo City. The faithful fell to their knees in the snow, praising the glory of the Supreme Lord in one voice.

Father Bierka nodded in satisfaction, his thin, reedy voice commanding, “Tomorrow at noon, the noble Lord Paladin Conlar Trigovar will personally preside over the ritual to Purify the evil one. Make sure everyone knows the news of our victory… You there, take some men and arrest all the attendants of the Gray Rabbit Caravan. Interrogate them thoroughly. Don’t let any of the Wizard’s accomplices slip through the net.” Having said this, the priest turned to the Paladin, a sycophantic smile on his face. “My lord, shall we return to the Church now?”

The mysterious man gave a slight nod and strode forward. The crowd spontaneously parted to form a wide path, watching the Paladin and the priest depart with awe and gratitude. Some pious believers even knelt to kiss the footprints the Paladin left in the snow. Meanwhile, inside the tavern, a brawl had already broken out over who would get the cup the Paladin had used.

The Church was the most magnificent building in Davo City, its interior solemn and splendid. Paladin Conlar, however, bypassed the main building of the Church and entered a modest-looking small building in the back courtyard.

The interior of the building was a stark contrast to its plain exterior. It was filled with every imaginable luxury: redwood furniture from the Kingdom of Gambia, painted woolen carpets from the Worton Plains, spider silk oil paintings of court ladies from the Kingdom of Sus, crystal chandeliers from Naville, adamantine candlesticks and lizard-oil candles from the Kingdom of Borea, decorative armor from Dodor, and centaur-leather sofas from Sasan—all of the finest quality.

Conlar removed his cloak. Several beautiful, scantily clad young girls with bare, white feet came forward to greet him, but they were shooed away by Father Bierka. Each of these girls was as exquisitely beautiful as a jade carving, innocent and lovely, yet their eyes held a hint of flirtatiousness. Their intimate manner with Father Bierka made it clear they had all been tutored by him.

The Paladin’s azure eyes narrowed slightly. He said coolly, “You certainly know how to enjoy yourself.”

Father Bierka obsequiously took the cloak, his fat face resembling that of a boar. “You flatter me, Lord Trigovar,” he said. “It’s just a small hobby of mine.”

The only specialty product of the Eastern Alliance was its people, and its biggest trade was the trade in human beings.

Strictly speaking, the population trade was not considered a criminal enterprise. After all, the upper echelons of society had a tradition of adoption with an inducement fee. The children of common families could only hope to climb the social ladder by following a noble master, and their living conditions would improve as a result.

Knights belonged to an extraordinary class of humans, progressing toward perfection. As the Knight bloodline spread among the common people, beauty and health became the most direct standards for judging a person’s nobility.

When those at the top have a preference, it’s bound to flourish among those below. The Eastern Alliance was originally a land of exile for Nobles. Lacking the natural conditions to pioneer new territories, the down-and-out Nobles were trapped in their isolated cities with nothing to do but procreate.

The ancestors of House Elayanuo had founded the Kingdom of Sus by relying on the population trade and lover’s diplomacy. With the example of House Elayanuo before them, the population trade in the Eastern Alliance flourished even more, gradually becoming a massive and astonishingly profitable industry.

Caravans would bring handsome men and beautiful women they had gathered to the Eastern Alliance and sell them to the local Nobles. They would use the inducement fees to “adopt” the Nobles’ young children, then resell them at a high price to lords in need, to be trained as attendants, handmaidens, family death commandos, or secret knights.

In fact, even the clergy needed to improve the appearance and temperament of their descendants to conform to the aesthetics of high society. It was not surprising for the Church in Davo City to adopt a few beautiful girls, but Father Bierka’s penchant for abusing underage girls filled Paladin Conlar with disgust.

However, Father Bierka came from the most ancient Holy Mountain Monastery. Ever since the papal line had been sidelined, the priests of the Holy Mountain Monastery had gradually withdrawn from the Holy See’s core of power, becoming a lesser faction among the Church’s monasteries. The Trigovar family had gone to great lengths to bring their former political rivals into their fold, putting them in charge of church affairs in the Eastern Alliance.

Hiding away in Davo City, Bierka had no chance of ever becoming a high-ranking priest. A fallen priest for fallen Nobles—it was only natural that the atmosphere among the upper echelons of the Eastern Alliance was one of luxury and depravity. Most importantly, Bierka was sufficiently loyal to House Trigovar, and he was very useful. Conlar would not allow his own moral sensibilities to lead him to criticize his family’s loyal claws and henchmen.

“Lord Trigovar, you have already achieved the Silver-rank, and now you have captured a Wizard. Becoming a level four Paladin is just a matter of time,” Father Bierka said respectfully. “I cannot leave Davo City to attend your promotion ceremony. I have specially prepared one hundred holy power crystals as my personal congratulatory gift to you.”

Conlar’s expression softened slightly. He said thoughtfully, “Capturing a Wizard so easily this time was all thanks to the help of Black-robed Bishop Charlie… Make the arrangements. I will take the little black-robe to see him now.”

“As you wish, my lord,” Bierka said, bowing as he withdrew.

A moment later, he returned to the room with a small, thin boy draped in a black robe. The boy was about eight years old and clutched a small wooden box tightly in his hands. Upon seeing the Paladin, he was about to bow in greeting.

Conlar raised a hand to stop him and stood up. “Jamie, hold on to the box. I’m taking you to meet your mentor.”

The boy, Jamie, followed the Paladin out of Father Bierka’s residence. They entered through the back door of the Church and climbed a spiral staircase all the way to the top of a high tower. Conlar pushed open the wooden door to the attic, and a strange smell washed over them, like honey mixed with rotting flesh. A single whiff was enough to make one gag with nausea.

Jamie pinched his nose and entered the cramped room, where he saw an emaciated old man sitting in a rocking chair. The man was covered with a thick blanket, and beside him was a ferocious mountain ape with sleek, shiny fur and a giant owl half as tall as a man. The ape scrutinized the two visitors with curious eyes, while the owl’s eyes were closed, motionless, like a lifeless specimen.

“A little Wizard?”

The old man’s voice was dry and hoarse as if he had not spoken in many years. Two orbs of dark red fire flickered in his deep-set eye sockets, seeming to burn straight through a person’s soul. Jamie trembled all over, clutching the wooden box. He tried to hide behind the Paladin but was pulled out from behind him.

“Lord Charlie, Jamie is a pious child. His parents are servants of our Lord,” Conlar said with a smile, taking Jamie’s hand.

The old man’s fiery red gaze softened, losing its soul-piercing power. He nodded and said, “So this is the heir you have found for me?”

“Yes.”

Conlar Trigovar looked down at Jamie and said, “The lord before you is Charlie, Chief of the Black-robed Order of Protectors, the Sky-Watcher, the Seer, the Pious, Black-robed Bishop of the Inquisition, and the forty-first Council President of the Shadow Council.”

“Only he can save your soul from the hands of the Devils.”

Chapter 450: Hall of Dreams

The Black-robed Bishop’s gaunt face twisted into a smile that looked more like a pained grimace. Little Jamie was already dizzy and disoriented, bombarded by so many titles. In his eyes, the old man’s smile was filled with a mysterious, unfathomable power, and a sense of reverence welled up within him.

Old Charlie was very pleased with the little wizard apprentice’s current attitude. The red light in his eye sockets shrank to the size of a pinprick as he asked, “Little one, what is your talent?”

Jamie lowered his head in embarrassment. Paladin Conlar said with a faint smile, “Jamie can make any frog within two meters of him turn belly-up.”

Old Charlie was stunned for a moment. An image of the little boy walking by, leaving a trail of frogs and toads lying belly-up, flashed through his mind, and he couldn’t help but laugh. Paladin Conlar laughed along with him. The ferocious mountain ape let out a sharp laugh and began rolling on the floor. Jamie’s face flushed red, and he wished he could find a crack in the ground to crawl into.

“A very good talent.” Old Charlie stopped smiling, and the mountain ape instantly fell silent. “Little one, do you know what my talent is?”

Jamie looked up, glanced envyingly at the powerful mountain ape and the half-man-tall great owl, and said in a small voice, “Lord Council President, can you control animals?”

“Call me Lord Bishop… if you can become my disciple.” The old man was silent for a moment before shaking his head. “What you see are not animals; they are my familiars. My talent isn’t controlling animals either. It’s making water bubble.”

“Are you disappointed?”

The red light in the old man’s eyes flickered. Jamie took it as a sign of a kind smile and nodded instinctively, then quickly shook his head and said, “No, no, My L—My lord, I’m not disappointed.”

Old Charlie didn’t linger on the topic and instead asked, “Child, do you consider yourself an Evildoer?”

“I… I think so,” Jamie said dejectedly. He was so upset his eyes turned red.

“You are very honest,” Old Charlie said in a hoarse voice. “A true Evildoer would never consider himself evil. If you were an Evildoer, you would not be here. And I would not have lived to this day. No one is born evil, and wizards are no exception. We are human first, and wizards second. The supreme Lord of Radiance redeems humanity, and that of course includes us wizards.”

“Is… is that true?” the little boy asked excitedly.

Sacred Warrior Conlar smiled gently. “Of course, it’s true. Your devout confession has lit an Atonement Holy Crystal. The merciful Lord has not abandoned you; otherwise, I would have Purified you long ago.”

“Praise our Lord, may Your radiance shine upon every corner of the world.” The little boy set down the wooden box, knelt with practiced movements in devout prayer, then rose and bowed repeatedly to the Paladin. “Thank you, My lord, thank you.”

“Don’t celebrate too soon.” Old Charlie, sitting in his rocking chair, poured a bucket of cold water on him, saying grimly, “An evil devil covets your soul. It will whisper in your ear, tempting you with immense power, causing you to forsake your faith and fall into the Abyss. It will use your eyes to peer at the world, use your mouth to spread blasphemy, and use your hands to murder the innocent and seize their souls, before finally devouring your own.”

Jamie’s face turned pale with fright. “What should I do?” he asked, terrified.

“Follow the Lord’s teachings, maintain a devout faith at all times, and complete your own salvation,” Old Charlie said calmly. “Devils like to pay attention to wizards with powerful talents, who are also particularly susceptible to their temptations. They become lost in great power and turn into true Evildoers. The Lord’s servants can redeem their souls, but in the process, evil wizards cause immense harm to the innocent, making the devils even stronger. To protect innocent believers, the Paladins of the Inquisition have no choice but to Purify evil wizards.”

“However, our brothers and sisters in the Inquisition always follow our Lord’s teachings and uphold the virtue of mercy. They are willing to help wizards achieve their own salvation.” Old Charlie continued his patient lecture, “Wizards with weak talents, like you and me, are not likely to attract the attention of devils. As long as we maintain a firm faith and temper our minds using the methods bestowed by the Supreme Lord, we can master the extraordinary power on the other side of light, complete our own salvation, and redeem more wizards, thereby protecting the innocent lambs.”

“My lord, what is the other side of light?” Jamie asked, puzzled.

Paladin Conlar countered, “What do you think?”

Jamie saw the great owl’s shadow cast upon the wall. His eyes lit up, and he chirped happily, “Shadow! I understand! Where there is light, there is shadow. Wizardry is the power of shadow. It, too, is a gift from the Supreme Lord.”

“You are very clever.” Old Charlie nodded in appreciation, then shook his head with a sigh. “Unfortunately, the vast majority of people fear the power of shadow. Even the clergy within the Church cannot accept wizards, even if we are their brothers and sons…”

Little Jamie thought of his priest father, who, upon learning his son was a wizard, had angrily declared he would burn him to death with his own hands. He began to sob sorrowfully.

“Only the Paladins of the Trigovar family have understood the Lord’s will and embraced us with compassion. This is the origin of the Black-robed Order of Protectors and the Shadow Council,” the Black-robed Bishop said with great emotion.

Conlar gave the old man an elegant bow, then turned to face the little wizard and asked solemnly, “Jamie, are you willing to don the black robe, join the Inquisition, and become the Lord’s missionary in the shadows to fight evil and save the people?”

Little Jamie dropped to one knee, his face resolute, and said in a firm, resonant voice, “I am willing!”

“Rise.” Conlar pulled the boy up and, placing his right hand on his shoulder, said gravely, “You still need to train and learn. You must first gain Lord Bishop Charlie’s approval to have the right to become a Black-robed Cleric of the Inquisition.”

“I will work hard, My lord,” Jamie said with exceptional earnestness.

A little boy from a priest’s family, his mind still immature, had suddenly awakened his wizarding talent and was consequently abandoned by his family, his faith on the verge of collapse. At his most difficult and bewildering moment, the bloody and cruel Inquisition extended a helping hand. The contrast in his circumstances and the intense emotional fluctuations would leave an indelible mark on his psyche. The Black-robed Bishop had deliberately created an atmosphere that shifted from fear to hope, filling the boy’s heart with a sense of identity, a sense of mission, and a sense of belonging. Coupled with the guidance of the High-ranked Knight’s extraordinary spirit, even if Jamie’s spiritual power were to reach the level of a level-six Mage in the future, it would be impossible for him to escape the Trigovar family’s mental control.

Most importantly, his wizarding talent was very weak and could not generate a powerful extraordinary allure. Such a Shadow Council President would pose no threat to the Trigovar family.

Wasn’t Charlie a living example? Without our support, he is nothing!

Conlar Trigovar thought to himself.

“Seeing you, I feel as if I am seeing my former self… and my mentor.”

The red light in the Shadow Council President’s eye sockets flickered. After a long pause, he smiled in satisfaction. “According to the tradition of the Black-robed Clerics, I should prepare a gift for you… I will transcribe a copy of the Spiritual Meditation for you.”

The mountain ape crouching on the floor got up and walked to a cabinet, from which it retrieved a quill, ink, and a sheepskin letter. It then bent over a desk and began to transcribe the Black-robed Order of Protectors’ Spiritual Meditation.

Little Jamie’s eyes widened. He pointed at the mountain ape and stammered, “Tu… Tutor, it… it’s like a person… it can write!”

“Don’t make such a fuss,” Old Charlie chided softly. The mountain ape put down its quill, walked to the rocking chair, and lifted the blanket covering the old man. Jamie clapped a hand over his mouth, horrified to see that the muscles in the old man’s four limbs had completely withered, leaving only skin and bones.

The mountain ape deftly covered the old man’s shriveled limbs with the blanket again, then returned to the desk to continue writing. Old Charlie said faintly, “How can one fight against evil devils without paying a price? Are you afraid, child?”

Jamie saw the Paladin’s scrutinizing gaze, quickly put his hands behind his back, and shook his head forcefully.

“You don’t need to worry. This mountain ape familiar is an extension of myself, and it is much stronger and more nimble than I am… In fact, we Black-robed Clerics can project our souls into our familiars’ bodies, controlling them as if they were our own,” Old Charlie explained with a smile. “In the future, you too can have your own familiar.”

Jamie’s eyes lit up. Pointing at the great owl, he asked, “Then can I fly like an owl?”

Conlar spoke up from the side, “Of course. Lord Bishop Charlie has flown across all the human kingdoms. That is why he holds the title of Sky-Watcher.”

“You are tired, child. Go to bed.”

Jamie was about to say he wasn’t tired, but as his eyes met the old man’s fiery sockets, he found himself walking involuntarily to the small bed in the attic. He fell onto it and was instantly asleep.

Conlar smiled slightly and said respectfully, “My lord, thank you for luring the wizard Borie to Davo City this time. We were able to capture him smoothly, preventing him from causing major civilian casualties.”

Old Charlie shook his head and sighed. “Borie practiced a modified Spiritual Meditation and was already capable of blocking the devil’s whispers. I didn’t expect that greed and ambition would still cause him to lose his piety to the Lord. Borie is undoubtedly an evil wizard who needs to be Purified.”

Borie was actually a very devout wizard-believer. Every time he passed through Davo City, he would go to the Church to pray and make an offering. However, Father Bierka had misled the Black-robed Bishop, claiming that the wizard Borie had forsaken his faith in the Lord. The reason for this was that Conlar needed Divine Favor to advance to a level four Paladin.

Conlar, of course, would not reveal the truth. He remained silent for a moment, then picked up the small wooden box from the floor, walked over to Old Charlie, and said, “My lord, I have brought what you asked for.”

The mountain ape left the desk and took the wooden box from the Paladin’s hands. It opened it and looked inside. There was a recent church affairs report from the Holy See, fifteen platinum-colored Sacred Warrior Crystals, and eight blood-red Atonement Holy Crystals. The ape unfolded the letter and began to browse the Holy See’s report, while Old Charlie’s sparse eyebrows knitted together. “Fifteen Sacred Warrior Crystals is correct, but there aren’t enough Atonement Holy Crystals!”

Holy Crystals were charged White crystals that contained holy power. Clergy could draw upon the holy power within to supplement their own, or use the Holy Crystals to construct spell models and cast additional divine arts. For example, if a Sacred Warrior carried a divine art crystal for healing, he could cast a priest’s healing spell.

The value of Holy Crystals could not be measured in money, and the Church did not permit them to be circulated on the market. Bierka’s gift of one hundred Holy Crystals to Conlar was a serious act of corruption. But Bierka was like a local tyrant in Davo City; the Holy See’s Curia had no power over him. If the Holy See wanted to sanction Bierka, it had to go through the Inquisition.

If Holy Crystals were blank Divine Crystals, then Sacred Warrior Crystals were natural divine art crystals.

Before a Sacred Warrior’s death, all the holy power, divine arts, and martial skills in his body would be infused into the White crystal he carried, forming a Sacred Warrior Crystal. By activating a Sacred Warrior Crystal, a priest could obtain the extraordinary power of a Sacred Warrior until their holy power was depleted. Such priests were known as battle priests.

Atonement Crystals were also called Blood Crystals. Compared to Holy Crystals and divine art crystals, Atonement Crystals were especially precious.

During the Chosen’s civil war, the Mage Council helped the first Pope construct all the divine art models in the Pool of Holy Power. The Church’s clergy could only draw divine arts from the pre-existing models in the pool. These inherent divine arts could not meet the tactical needs of the clergy, so the monastery priests, drawing on the legacy of the Mage Council, began to construct new spell models. But no one could alter the Radiant Code, and no one could add new divine arts to the Pool of Holy Power. Therefore, the monasteries attempted to use Holy Crystals to construct new divine arts.

However, the Mage Council had long since developed a relatively complete system of divine arts based on the characteristics of holy power. Priests could not create new divine arts with Holy Crystals alone. But Atonement Crystals, containing intense negative emotions, allowed the monasteries to make breakthroughs outside the system of holy power, evolving spiritual curse divine arts. For example, the Chaos spell, Weakening spell, Stunning spell, and so on.

Although extraordinary beings with strong minds had high resistance to spiritual curses, in the heat of battle, a slight influence could often be the line between life and death.

Seven hundred years ago, the Radiant Knights successfully lured and killed Emperor Lant by using a Blood Crystal enchanted with a Stunning spell; otherwise, the outcome would have been hard to predict. And that Blood Crystal was provided by the Holy Mountain Monastery.

In fact, almost all spiritual curse divine arts were invented by the wizards of the Shadow Council, which was controlled by the Trigovar family. The Holy Mountain Monastery, as a claw of the Trigovar family, acted as the creator of these new divine arts. In the eyes of the clergy, the ancient Holy Mountain Monastery was, in any case, now a place that could only peacefully research divine arts.

Charlie was a true genius Wizard. He had innovated upon the Mage Council’s Spiritual Meditation, and his own magical power had reached the level of a level-six Mage. He had single-handedly created several new spell models. The Frenzy spell he constructed had even broken through the limitation of spiritual curses being single-use, allowing multiple targets in a small area to slaughter each other indiscriminately, friend or foe.

The Radiant Knights’ successful campaign against the Centaur clans in the Northern Wildlands was in no small part due to Old Charlie’s contributions.

Old Charlie’s importance was beyond doubt, and the Trigovar family did their best to meet his demands for spell resources. But Conlar was now in a difficult position.

The Radiant Knights did not lack Sacred Warrior Crystals, but Atonement Crystals were primarily in the hands of the Curia. The Atonement Crystals collected by the Eastern Alliance alone could not satisfy Old Charlie. Conlar couldn’t possibly tell Old Charlie that the Black-robed Order of Protectors, with its legacy of over a thousand years, had no official connection to the Church and was merely the Trigovar family’s private army.

Conlar pondered for a moment before saying, “My lord, the most vicious believers do not think they need to atone. When ordinary believers commit sinful deeds, they usually hide at home and pray to the Supreme Lord for forgiveness. Those devout believers willing to confess their sins to a priest to cleanse their bodies and souls are far too few… We will deliver the Blood Crystals you specified, but we need time to collect them.”

Old Charlie was silent for a long time before sighing, “Such is humanity. I do not blame you. You may leave.”

“As you wish, My lord.” Conlar bowed respectfully and left the attic.

When the footsteps of the attic guard stopped outside the door, the red light in the Black-robed Bishop’s eye sockets gradually faded. The mountain ape also closed its eyes, becoming completely still, like an inanimate object.

In the endless darkness, Old Charlie regained his youthful appearance and strong body. He trod upon a black mist that felt tangible, kneeling as he intoned, “Your Excellency, who commands the shadows, the Messenger begs for your response.”

After chanting continuously for over a hundred times, a pinpoint of white light appeared before Old Charlie. The light expanded rapidly, and the illuminated black mist transformed into a dark golden stone floor. Smooth stone pillars grew, supporting a high, vaulted ceiling. The floor and ceiling curved towards each other, forming walls and steps. Then, carpets, tables, chairs, candelabras, and murals appeared one by one.

Old Charlie found himself in a magnificent hall.

A level-six spell, the Hall of Dreams.

“I am here.”

The figure of a little boy appeared on the throne at the top of the steps. He looked down upon the Black-robed Bishop and said with a light laugh, “Tutor Charlie, in the entire Shadow Council, only the two of us can meet in the Hall of Dreams. It’s truly lonely.”

Charlie bowed deeply and said with profound respect:

“The Messenger greets the Lord Shadow Council President.”

Chapter 451: The Council President, Keeper of Secrets

“There are only the two of us in the entire Hall of Dreams… Tutor, please, just call me Rudy.” The Shadow Council President on the throne sighed deeply. “I am currently overcome with worry that the Shadow Council’s research from the last thirty years will have no one to carry it on.”

Charlie took a step forward, appearing on the high platform. An obsidian throne materialized beneath him, level with the Shadow Council President’s. He glanced at the empty hall and said with a sigh, “My mentor told me that in the Shadow Council’s most glorious days, eight Archmages would gather here to discuss the true nature of magic. In its bleakest times, the Council President’s line alone guarded the secrets of the Hall of Dreams. Today, the Black-robed Order of Protectors has only five members. The academic talent has withered away. Besides this old man, none of the others have reached the magical prowess of a level-six Mage… I fear the Shadow Council is truly about to enter a period of hibernation.”

Rudy fell silent for a moment before shaking his head. “Tutor Charlie, you don’t need to test me. Regarding the secret legacy art of the Shadow Council President’s line, I cannot speak of it. But I can guarantee that my line will never be broken!”

Charlie met Council President Rudy’s eyes and nodded. “As long as the Trigovar family still controls the Inquisition, the Black-robed Order of Protectors will not be broken. Though my time is short, in the future, there will always be a Black-robed Cleric who achieves the rank of a level-six Mage and enters the Hall of Dreams. If he sees no Shadow Keeper of Secrets in this hall, then the Shadow Council’s legacy will truly be severed. Your line of Keepers of Secrets has always been a single line of succession, and I truly fear something will go wrong with you.”

“It won’t!”

Council President Rudy thought for a moment, then added, “This is not the first time the Shadow Council has entered a period of hibernation. Tutor, you need not worry.”

“I hope so.”

There is only one Black-robed Order of Protectors, but there are two Shadow Councils.

Trigovar might cultivate the Black-robed Order of Protectors as a family asset, but the Black-robed Clerics themselves do not see it that way. They possess lofty ideals and pursuits, and they have made outstanding contributions to the Church, and even to all the human kingdoms.

The awakening of a Wizard is random, and their innate talents are bizarre and varied. As early as 1700 years ago, in a capital city in the heartland of the Iron Mountain Empire, a freeman awakened a plague talent. In the course of his migration, he caused more than seventeen thousand people to fall ill and die. The Church and the local lord were helpless against the sudden great plague until the Pope used the Great Divination, which allowed the clergy to capture the main culprit. Tragically, the Wizard himself had no idea what had happened.

That was the most devastating wizard-related incident in human history.

In light of this, a cleric from the Holy Mountain Monastery, Uleric, formally proposed the concept of the Black-robed Order of Protectors. He believed that the wizards of the day were all lambs of the Church, capable of providing the power of faith. Rather than suppressing wizards, the clergy should bring them under the Church’s supervision. Only then could a similar tragedy be averted.

The Church could select wizards from among the faithful in the Theocracy of Ayr—those with unwavering faith and weak talents—to form the Black-robed Order of Protectors. These Black-robed Clerics would be responsible for guiding ordinary wizards to abandon their innate wizardry talents and focus solely on practicing the Spiritual Meditation of the Mage Council. This way, wizards could only increase their magical power but would have no spell models to use. Consequently, even the most powerfully talented wizard would be reduced to a weak Mage, incapable of threatening the safety of the human kingdoms.

Uleric’s idea was good, but he made a fundamental error.

The first Pope had founded the Radiant Church on the magnificent achievement of suppressing the Chosen. Uleric openly declared that the Church should ally with wizards. Where did his argument leave the divine and orthodox authority of the papal line? At that time, Pope Paul III was planning to use the pretext of eliminating wizard organizations to strike at the noble factions within the Church. Uleric was practically serving his own head on a platter for the Pope to make an example of.

Pope Paul III established the religious inquisition, and the first order he issued was to purge the heretics from within the Church.

Uleric died, but his pragmatic vision was inherited by Trigovar and the Holy Mountain Monastery.

With the help of the priests from the Holy Mountain Monastery, Trigovar perfected the Black-robed Order of Protectors’ concepts of a self-redemptive mission, its organizational structure, and its principles of conduct.

The Black-robed Order of Protectors had one Chief and one Vice-Chief. They practiced a special Spiritual Meditation that would gradually weaken their bodies until they were paralyzed, confined to a tower designated by the Inquisition, living in complete isolation. But their souls would grow powerful with their magical prowess, enabling them to possess familiars and grant these familiars certain spellcasting abilities, such as the Insight Art to distinguish wizards from mortals.

The primary duty of the Chief and Vice-Chief was to use their familiars to find wizards and monitor the wizard members within the organization.

Black-robed Clerics would be the first to contact wild wizards discovered by the Black-robed Bishops, urging them to join a wizard organization. The Black-robed Clerics were also responsible for serving as mentors to these wild wizards, teaching them to practice another type of Spiritual Meditation.

This Spiritual Meditation came from the collection of the Holy Mountain Monastery and was inherently flawed. Its only benefit was that it made the practitioner feel euphoric and eager to meditate. However, its unique magical properties were incompatible with a wizard’s innate talent. For a wizard to use their own talent, they would need to spend a short amount of time constructing a magical circuit. This made such wizards exceptionally easy for the Inquisition’s clergy to capture.

The Black-robed Order of Protectors had to adhere to the principle of secrecy. A Black-robed Cleric must never reveal his true identity to his wizard proteges. The reason given by the Holy Mountain Monastery was unassailable: secrecy was to avoid detection by Devils, allowing the Black-robed Clerics to covertly observe the Evildoers within the wizard organization, thereby completing their own redemption and the redemption of all wizards. Otherwise, the Black-robed Clerics could be targeted by Devils and eventually slide into the abyss of sin.

The Black-robed Clerics maintained one-way communication with their wizard proteges. Trigovar’s secular power, under the guise of the wizard organization, lurked near the proteges, helping the Inquisition track the movements of wild wizards.

This is how the Shadow Council came to be.

The Black-robed Order of Protectors was undoubtedly the core of the Shadow Council, but under this structure, the connection between the Black-robed Clerics and their wizard proteges was severed by the Trigovar family.

For thousands of years, the Black-robed Order of Protectors gathered countless wizard apprentices, and Trigovar effortlessly reaped an endless supply of Shadow Wizards.

However, there is no wall in the world that is completely soundproof.

Wizards could not use holy power, but likewise, the clergy did not understand the mysteries of magical power. Although the Black-robed Bishops lacked powerful spells, they had raised their magical power to level five. Their intelligence, spiritual power, and soul strength had long surpassed those of mortals. They were well aware that not all of the Shadow Council’s wizard proteges had been tempted by the Whisperer or were unfaithful to the Supreme Lord. Not all the wizard proteges purified by the Inquisition were Evildoers who heeded the whispers of Devils.

But what could a paralyzed Black-robed Bishop, locked in a high tower, possibly do? Some Black-robed Bishops questioned the Inquisition, but the Trigovar family could always find a grandiose excuse to silence them. After all, the Black-robed Bishops were isolated from the world, possessed very little outside information, and had not formed deep bonds with the wizard proteges.

One could only say that the organizational structure of the Black-robed Order of Protectors designed by the Inquisition was too ingenious. The Black-robed Clerics and the Shadow proteges had no room to resist.

However, the Inquisition’s actions went against the very purpose of the Black-robed Order of Protectors. Trigovar had underestimated the dedication and persistence of the Black-robed Clerics in their pursuit of their ideals.

The Black-robed Bishops delved into Spiritual Meditation, spell models, and divine art models. They hoped that the Shadow Wizards could help the Church develop new divine arts, make the Inquisition recognize the value of the Shadow Council, and ultimately realize their noble ideal of redeeming all wizards.

After generations of relentless effort by the Black-robed Bishops, the Shadow Council achieved significant results in meditation techniques and spiritual curse divine arts. The Inquisition began to adopt a more lenient policy towards the Shadow Wizards.

A towering tree may have its roots dug out, but as long as there is sunlight, water, soil, and air, the earth will eventually sprout new flowers.

The Inquisition provided the environment and cover, the Holy Mountain Monastery supplied the Spiritual Meditation of the Mage Council, and the Black-robed Bishops now had a magic legacy. A new council with organizational cohesion was born.

There are differing voices within any organization, especially one like the Shadow Council, which was artificially split into Black-robed Clerics and Shadow Wizards.

The Black-robed Bishops hoped to legitimize wizards by researching divine arts. The Shadow proteges, however, wanted to sell their extraordinary skills to secular lords and become nobles.

The Shadow Council fractured into the Black-robed academic faction and the secular power faction.

As for the wizards of the power faction, the Inquisition would strike them down without mercy before they could pledge allegiance to a secular lord; not a single one escaped the net. But not all Shadow Wizards were obsessed with secular power; among them were also academic wizards who were devoted to magical research. Yet, because they were not Black-robed Clerics, the Inquisition would still purify the academic Shadow Wizards as long as their research was unrelated to divine art crystals.

Many of the Shadow Council’s theoretical studies and academic projects were thus cut short. The Black-robed Bishops were grief-stricken but helpless.

Seven hundred years ago, a figure of astonishing talent emerged in the Shadow Council—Romon.

Romon’s talent was deduction—a wizardry talent that possessed no offensive power but was exceptionally formidable. He deduced a brand-new Spiritual Meditation and invented the Stunning spell. The Black-robed Bishops of his time practiced Romon’s meditation and, in their sleep, entered the Hall of Dreams that Romon had constructed.

For the first time, Black-robed Bishops and Shadow Wizards came into face-to-face contact. The Bishops learned about happenings in the outside world through Romon, and Romon, in turn, learned the secrets of the Shadow Council and the Black-robed Order of Protectors.

From that moment on, Trigovar lost its control over the Shadow Council.

After more than a dozen meetings and discussions, Romon proposed the Shadow Council’s political platform—the Shadow Council should become a third political force, independent of the Church and the secular lords.

He argued that as long as wizards were prey for the clergy and the Shadow Council was attached to the Church, the ideals of the Black-robed Order of Protectors could never be realized. After deep consideration, the Black-robed Bishops finally agreed with Romon’s assessment. Together, they established the Shadow Council’s organizational structure, development strategy, and principles of conduct.

Faith is Survival: The Lord of Radiance is the protector of humanity. Only by believing in the Supreme Lord can members of the Shadow Council find a foothold in human society. Members who abandon their faith must be handed over to the Inquisition for purification to prevent harm to the Council’s survival.

Secret Legacy: The magic legacy is the foundation for the Shadow Council’s growth and power. The academic faction of wizards should hold the real power within the Shadow Council.

Any wizard who could diligently practice Romon’s meditation to level six would automatically enter the Hall of Dreams; all other wizards could be sacrificed and utilized. In the Hall of Dreams, the level-six wizards would exchange academic findings and information from the outside world, and formulate the Shadow Council’s development strategies. Romon would serve as the Dream Keeper of Secrets, responsible for recording all academic achievements. The Black-robed Bishops would be responsible for trading the Shadow Council’s academic achievements with the Church for more historical secrets and legacies from the Mage Council.

The Keeper of Secrets operates outside the purview of the Black-robed Order of Protectors, independently training their own proteges. As long as the Dream Keeper of Secrets is not extinguished, the legacy of the Shadow Council will not be broken.

Secularization: The Shadow Council must develop secular power, strive to win the support of lords and the common people, and compel the Church to recognize the legitimacy of wizards. The Dream Keeper of Secrets would serve as the Council President of the Shadow Council, while the Black-robed Bishops would serve as the Council’s Messengers and Couriers.

The Inquisition believed the Black-robed Bishops were the Shadow Council Presidents, but in reality, power was in the hands of the Keeper of Secrets. The Shadow Council later created the Advent Spell, controlling the Masked Brotherhood through wizard Councilors. The Shadow Council operated in the Eastern Alliance for several hundred years, building a vast, hidden power.

In recent times, the Shadow Council has been linked to many major events in the human world. They even participated in the Holy City Uprising three hundred years ago. At that time, Shadow Wizards aided the Neowist family in an attempt to restore the Randt Empire to its former glory, but the effort ended in failure. The Pope was inexplicably slapped with the massive accusation of colluding with wizards, erupting in a heaven-shaking scandal. Nachtigal furiously berated Neowist, who never dared to shelter Shadow Wizards again. Trigovar was also scared into a cold sweat and secretly purged the Black-robed Order of Protectors. Not a single Councilor from the Shadow Council’s power faction survived. The Shadow Council entered its longest period of hibernation, and only when a Black-robed Cleric once again entered the Hall of Dreams did the Shadow Council get back on track.

In the end, Trigovar could not bear to part with the extraordinary power of wizards. After lying dormant for over two hundred years, the Shadow Council began to grow active again. The Shadow Wizards were showing signs of losing control, a fact that deeply worried the Black-robed Bishop Charlie.

“A few years ago, we accepted a commission from the Cunning Fox to assassinate Viscount Randell. The assassination mission led to the disappearance of two Councilors, the Corruptor and the Beast King. This time, Ribo has again violated the Council’s resolution, privately handing over the secret of the Bloodguards to the Dodor Kingdom. He wants to betray the Council and become a noble of Dodor himself!”

Charlie said coldly, “I hope tomorrow’s purification will serve as a wake-up call to the other Councilors.”

Council President Rudy chuckled. “The current Councilors are all new-generation power-faction wizards. They lack interest in magical research and are obsessed with power and authority. They have never experienced the sharp pain of purification. It is indeed necessary for us to have the Inquisition purify a Councilor as an example for them to see.”

Charlie nodded and asked, “Should we then withdraw all of Ribo’s proteges who are still in Dodor?”

“The Council’s cooperation with the Dodor Royal Family cannot be terminated. We must send someone to take over Ribo’s proteges in Dodor.”

“What?” Charlie asked in surprise. “Lord Council President, didn’t you say the Council was to secretly infiltrate the lower strata of the kingdoms to gather newly awakened wizard apprentices?”

Council President Rudy shook his head. “Two things have happened that have forced me to change my mind.”

“The Masked Brotherhood has met its match in Stonetooth City. Our Bloodguards and Shadow Warriors have suffered heavy losses, and even Willie, the wizard responsible for communications, is dead.”

Charlie frowned. “Could the Stag Merchants’ Guild have hired High-ranked Knights to intervene?”

“On that day, the York family sent High-ranked Knights to attack the High-ranked Knights of House Ludwig. But before that, our Bloodguards and Shadow Warriors were already met with powerful resistance. It’s impossible for High-ranked Knights to get involved in the struggles of the common folk. Moreover, Willie suffered a backlash from a Secret Word Spell.”

“I don’t believe a High-ranked Knight’s spiritual power is enough to force a level-three wizard to reveal secrets… unless it was Her Majesty from the Centaur Hills herself who acted. And that is clearly impossible,” Council President Rudy said. “I suspect that the southern three kingdoms also harbor a secret wizard organization. They too want to establish a power base among the lower classes.”

The Black-robed Bishop pondered for a long while before nodding. “That’s highly possible. Spirit Knights possess an extraordinary allure, and they can always gather many forces around them. Since that mysterious organization helped Marchioness Wimbledon fight against the Masked Brotherhood, they most likely intend to align themselves with the Centaur Hills.”

Council President Rudy gave a bitter smile. “Therefore, our plan to infiltrate the lower classes of the western kingdoms and gather wizard apprentices has already failed…”

“The other matter is the refugee riot in Stonetooth City, where more than three thousand people died. Pope Clement emerged as the biggest winner. The Curia has ordered all lords to temporarily halt the dispersal of refugee camps, and the Curia itself will arrange for the relocation of the refugees.”

“What does that have to do with us?” the Black-robed Bishop asked, puzzled.

Council President Rudy shook his head and sighed. “Pope Clement is the main proponent of the new agropastoral system. He now controls the right to distribute the refugee population, and the new system will cover all territories within a few years. The strength of the kingdoms will be greatly enhanced. Our original strategy was to infiltrate the lower classes of the western kingdoms and the Sasan Empire, gather wizard apprentices, build our strength, and help the Sasan Empire fight the beastmen of the Northern Wildlands.”

“We are no longer that important to the Sasan lords. And our plan to infiltrate the lower classes of the western kingdoms to gather apprentices has failed. Our only choice now is to take the high-level route and have the Dodor Royal Family help us gather wizard apprentices… Also, we can try to contact the Baselius family.” Council President Rudy’s voice was heavy. “Of course, this might arouse the Trigovar family’s suspicion. However, if we achieve nothing during this era of great expansion, it will be difficult to gain the support of lords and the people later on.”

“…You’re right,” the Black-robed Bishop murmured to himself, then suddenly looked up and asked, “Could we choose to pledge allegiance to the Centaur Hills? With the protection and support of a Spirit Knight, Trigovar wouldn’t dare act rashly.”

Council President Rudy said thoughtfully, “I’ve considered that too… If we pledge allegiance to the Centaur Hills now, we will come up against that powerful competitor. Furthermore, factions built by Spirit Knights are often like a flash in the pan, difficult to sustain. Let us first use the power of King Friedrich and the Baselius family to strengthen the Council. When Viscount Randell becomes a Sun Elf, it won’t be too late to contact the Centaur Hills.”

“My lord, your considerations are very thorough,” the Black-robed Bishop said, genuinely convinced.

Chapter 452: The Red Queen’s Law

In the 15th month of the Radiant Year 7569, a refugee riot broke out in Stonetooth City in the southeastern part of the Dodor Kingdom, resulting in over three thousand seven hundred casualties. Horra Ludwig was passing through the DeWeimik Fief when he encountered a roving band of bandits and was unfortunately killed in battle.

News of the Golden Dawn Sparrow Earl’s death sent shockwaves through the noble circles. After a joint investigation by the Dodor Royal Family and the Church, it was determined that the unrest in Marquess Dwemick’s fief was caused by Lord Wamon Dwemic, the magistrate of Stonetooth City, who had acted on his own authority to disperse the refugee settlements.

The King of Dodor severely reprimanded Lord Wamon’s liege lord, Marquess Dwemick, and ordered the Dwemic family to compensate Horra’s heir with two hundred thousand Gold Sols and materials worth three hundred thousand Gold Sols. Marquess Dwemick stripped Wamon of his title and family name and handed him over to the religious inquisition for trial. Inquisitor-General Trigovar, in accordance with the New Covenant of Light, sentenced Wamon to the highest penalty for a Knight. He and his relatives, 376 people in total, were sentenced to guard the Twilight Forest defense line for twenty-five years. After their sentences are served, any survivors will be exiled to the Eastern Alliance. At the same time, Pontiff Clement expressed his fury over the tragedy in Stonetooth City. He dismissed Bishop Solz from his post, recalled him to the Holy See, and demoted him to the position of a monastery priest. The three Patriarchs of the Curia jointly signed a decree prohibiting lords from dispersing refugee camps on their own authority and declared that the Curia would take full responsibility for the matter of refugee migration.

By the time Victor received the decree, he and Sylvia had already returned to Rose Manor.

It had been snowing in the Centaur Hills for three consecutive days. The mountains and rivers were stark, heaven and earth were draped in white, and the quiet, elegant Rose Manor was clad in silver.

The manor’s crystal conservatory, however, was as warm as spring and full of life. A flue system for underfloor heating was built beneath the green brick floor, and red copper pipes of varying heights were distributed throughout the conservatory. Servants used a special crank mechanism to pump boiling water into the copper pipes. The billowing hot steam escaped through holes in the pipes, painting the colorful crystal conservatory like a scene from a fairytale.

“Did you do it?”

Victor’s gaze shifted from the snowy landscape outside the crystal conservatory. He turned to see Sylvia sitting in a wicker chair, her long legs crossed, savoring her coffee. She wore a daffodil-yellow, low-cut, cinched-waist long dress. Her sun-like golden hair cascaded over her shoulders, revealing a long, elegant neck.

Her posture wasn’t exactly prim, but it was very intimate, filled with a languid, alluring charm, like a wife before her husband.

Meeting Sylvia’s clear, azure eyes, Victor shrugged, feigning ignorance about what she was asking.

“The large-scale brawl between the refugees in Stonetooth City,” Sylvia reminded him, stirring her coffee with a silver spoon.

“It wasn’t me…” Victor hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. “At least, I can’t be sure yet if it was my people.”

Goldwater City was over four hundred kilometers from Stonetooth City, and the alchemical crows Barol released could only fly to the Alchemy Tower. Victor would only be able to see Quicksilver’s report after returning to the Randell Fief. So, for now, he truly didn’t know the specifics of the brawl in Stonetooth City.

However, even if Quicksilver had secretly orchestrated the large-scale brawl, Victor wouldn’t feel any guilt over it.

From ancient times to the present, disputes over land and water had often led to bloodshed. Externally, this meant war; internally, it was large-scale brawls between local clan forces and outside refugee groups. This was not something that could be changed by individual will but was a problem of social structure and political systems. Vassal lords and the Church couldn’t prevent conflicts between their subjects and the refugees; they could only wait for the conflict to erupt and then mend the fences.

From Victor’s perspective, it made no difference whether the brawl happened in Stonetooth City or some other fief. All he needed to do was ensure the stability of the Randell Fief and the Centaur Hills.

“The King of Gambis got a new fiancée, and a Grand Vizier died. A Court Earl of the Dodor Kingdom was killed. Thousands of refugees were killed or injured in Stonetooth City.” Victor sat down across from Sylvia and asked with a smile, “The nobles of Gambis are focused on Anna. The nobles of Dodor are focused on the truth behind Horra’s ambush… Darling, why are you focused on the refugee brawl that nobody else seems interested in?”

Sylvia took a sip of her coffee, raised a slender eyebrow, and retorted, “Darling, do you think I shouldn’t have left Anna alone in Aerie Fortress?”

With the matters in Blinor City settled, the lords returned to their respective fiefs. The York family returned to the Centaur Hills, but Anna was left all alone in the royal palace. Sylvia hadn’t even assigned a family attendant to her. Although it was unlikely that the families of the Four Great Princes would harm a noblewoman of the York family, the resolute defiance shown by Grand Vizier Bastern, who had fought to the death, had left a deep impression on Victor.

The cruelty of court struggles was something an ordinary family could never compare to. The Four Great Princes had countless ways to deal with a naive little girl.

Victor shook his head. “Roland told me that the late King Ryan couldn’t even protect her mother. If Anna runs into trouble in the royal palace, she won’t have a single person by her side to talk to.”

“If Ryan couldn’t protect the late Queen Eline, what could I do to protect Anna?”

Sylvia set down her silver cup and said in a low voice, “That fellow Bastern dared to offend my authority, wasn’t it because he was afraid of the York family meddling in the royal family’s internal affairs? He died, but he also won… If Anna had people from the York family by her side, the Four Great Princes would eliminate them first. So, Anna is safer now as a child of the Auguste family.”

“From the family’s perspective, the Auguste and York families have entered a betrothal. Aerie Fortress got the Gold Potion formula, and we got their secret cleansing potion formula. As for Edward and Anna’s private affairs, they’re of no importance. If Anna is murdered, I’ll just send another child to Aerie Fortress and, while I’m at it, slaughter a Court Marquess.”

“I’d like to see just how many Marquesses the families of the Four Great Princes have for me to kill.” Sylvia’s eyes shifted, and she smiled. “There’s no need to give warnings for this kind of thing. Let the facts speak for themselves.”

Victor seemed to understand. Sylvia glanced at him and added, “Do you think being the Queen is so easy? Anna can only rely on Edward now. The pressure of court life will instead force the two youngsters to build a deep bond. This will help them on their path to becoming Extraordinary Knights.”

“The fact that you care about Anna shows that you now care about the York family as well… I’m very happy.”

Sylvia gave a beautiful smile, took her lover’s hand, and said with a frown, “However, we’re facing a major hidden danger now, and I need your advice.”

“What hidden danger?” Victor asked in surprise, blinking his eyes.

“Right now, what is the most difficult problem for the Dwemic family?” Sylvia poured a cup of fragrant, hot coffee and handed it to Victor.

Victor took a sip of the coffee and said tentatively, “They’ve been isolated diplomatically and commercially?”

Sylvia shook her head gently. “Over four hundred elite soldiers attacked Horra’s convoy in the DeWeimik Fief. How did they get there? How did they retreat? Where are they hiding? How are their supplies managed? Will this kind of raid happen again? Until these questions are answered, no lord will be able to sleep peacefully.”

A barony of twenty thousand people could mobilize several thousand militia, but the number of elite soldiers who could actually be deployed for battle generally did not exceed five hundred. Otherwise, the fief’s operations would suffer greatly. An army like the Bear Company, capable of crossing countless fiefs and launching raids over thousands of kilometers, was something no powerful lord could field.

Of course, the Bear Company was able to achieve this mainly due to the core role played by the alchemical humans. Without the Alchemy Tower, Victor couldn’t have projected an army a thousand kilometers away, no matter how capable he was. It was just that Victor couldn’t reveal the secret of the Alchemy Tower to anyone right now. He thought for a moment and said with a hint of pride, “You already know all this, don’t you? My smuggling caravans have won over many mountain strongholds to serve as transport nodes and logistical supply stations for the Bear Company. In the future, no matter where Sophia expands the Golden Company, my Bear Company will be able to put down roots in the nearby mountains and forests.”

Sylvia pondered for a moment, then nodded. “Regardless of an army’s combat strength, the Bear Company is indeed an extremely intimidating force.”

“Darling, are you interested in the Bear Company?” Victor asked, feigning nonchalance.

“Not interested.”

“Huh?”

Sylvia slowly shook her head. Victor was utterly baffled. He saw her purse her lips and say with a smile, “The Bear Company relies on mountain strongholds for its development. It will face two problems and is destined not to last long.”

“I’m listening,” Victor said with a serious expression.

“If an army used the mountain strongholds near the Randell Fief to threaten the safety of the Randall family, what would you do?”

Victor was taken aback for a moment, then said, unwilling to concede, “But…”

“But what?” Sylvia lightly brushed her hair, a faint smile on her face. “But you only want to do business with the mountain folk and the various lords, and you’re not prepared to use force to coerce them. Do you believe that yourself? In the past, the lords tolerated your smuggling caravans colluding with the mountain strongholds because they valued the smuggling trade. But now that the Bear Company has ambushed and killed a Great Knight in Marquess Dwemick’s fief, who would dare say that the smuggling caravans and mountain strongholds pose no threat to them? Once Sophia’s Golden Company reaches secret trade agreements with the lords, what use will the smuggling caravans be? The first thing the local lords will do is eliminate the surrounding mountain strongholds.”

“This is the external problem the Bear Company faces.” Sylvia paused, then asked with a beaming smile, “You must spend a lot of gold coins to maintain those smuggling nodes, don’t you?”

Victor sighed and shook his head. “More than half of the profits from the smuggling trade are spent on maintaining the smuggling nodes.”

“If I were Sophia, I would use trade with my left hand and armed mercenaries with my right, first coercing and tempting the various lords to join the Golden Company. Once the Golden Company is established, would she still need to spend a fortune maintaining the armed mountain folk? Even if she wanted to keep the Bear Company, the lords of the Golden Company would never agree!”

“You don’t even know if your subordinates planned the large-scale refugee brawl in Stonetooth City. This proves you can’t effectively control matters from a thousand kilometers away. If the lords cleanse or buy out the surrounding mountain strongholds, you won’t be able to support the mountain folk in time. They will either scatter or surrender.” Sylvia shook her head, looked into Victor’s eyes, and said softly:

“Darling, don’t take the lords for fools. The mountain strongholds are too far from you and too close to them. If you reach out too far, your hand will be chopped off.”

Victor was speechless for a moment, then said defiantly, “If there’s a problem, I’ll solve it… I’ll think of a way.”

“I have no doubt about that.”

Sylvia reached out and caressed Victor’s face, smoothing his furrowed brow and coaxing a smile. She pouted and said, “Darling, the Bear Company is unimportant… The refugee migration is the big problem. You have to help me think of a solution.”

Victor said helplessly, “Then you have to at least describe the problem clearly.”

Sylvia released her lover’s face and said with a frown, “The Bear Company was able to infiltrate the DeWeimik Fief smoothly mainly because there was chaos in their territory.”

The DeWeimik Fief’s expulsion of the refugee camps had disrupted the original balance, leading to chaos in the fief’s surveillance system. The Bear Company had exploited this defensive loophole to sneak into their attack position. If the DeWeimik Fief’s army had the refugee camps acting as their eyes and ears, the Bear Company could never have sent several hundred men into the territory of a powerful Marquess.

Victor nodded, indicating his agreement with Sylvia’s view.

“The large-scale brawl in Stonetooth City proves that the refugees and the subjects of the DeWeimik Fief are not of one mind,” Sylvia said, her face full of worry. “Those refugees have lived in the DeWeimik Fief for over a hundred years, and still, they are not accepted by the subjects of the Dwemic family. How can it be any different in my Centaur Hills?”

“Because of the brawl in Stonetooth City, the Curia has completely taken over the matter of refugee migration for all the kingdoms. Clement’s political influence has instantly swelled several times over. The Centaur Hills and the Kingdom of Naville are the places Clement envisions for resettling the refugees. According to our original agreement, the Centaur Hills must accept at least four hundred thousand refugees…”

A glint appeared in Victor’s eyes as he said softly, “Can the Centaur Hills not accommodate four hundred thousand refugees? I think the Centaur Hills could take five hundred thousand people right now without much of a problem.”

“It’s too early, and too fast,” Sylvia said, shaking her head. “With what happened in Stonetooth City, Clement’s prestige has certainly soared, but he must quickly show results in organizing the refugee migration. And I’m not ready yet.”

“The York family originally had over sixty thousand subjects. When the Ant-men invaded the Centaur Hills, the other families abandoned their territories. I took in their subjects, over fifty thousand of them. To this day, I still haven’t fully assimilated them. Then the Centaur Hills recruited another one hundred and twenty thousand refugee workers. If Clement sends another four hundred thousand people my way, how can the sixty thousand-odd subjects of my York family control over five hundred thousand refugees?”

“…The guests are strong while the host is weak. That’s a problem.” Victor nodded, then smiled again. “Of the one hundred and twenty thousand refugees in the Centaur Hills, over eighty thousand are with me, and I haven’t had any trouble, have I? Don’t worry, the Church can’t possibly migrate so many people over at once. As long as the refugees enter the Centaur Hills in organized batches, we’ll have time to settle them.”

Sylvia shot Victor an exasperated look and sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead. “It’s the fact that the Church is organizing the migration that makes it so terrible… I have plenty of ways to deal with disorganized refugees. But a large-scale brawl just happened in Stonetooth City, with thousands of casualties. Who would dare use harsh methods against refugees now? With the Church as their backer and their vast numbers, they will inevitably coalesce into a massive force. How do you expect my subjects to control them?”

“If someone were to incite these united refugees to oppose the York family… the consequences would be unimaginable! Moreover, a force of four hundred thousand refugees could even sway the opinions of the priests. A political power beyond my control would emerge in the Centaur Hills!”

Sylvia’s azure eyes shifted, and she adopted a frail expression. She grasped Victor’s wrist and said pitifully, “Darling, you’re experienced in governing refugees. I can only rely on you now.”

“Relying on me is the right choice!”

Victor laughed heartily, patting Sylvia’s soft, boneless hand. He stood up and said with great verve, “I’ve had a plan in mind for a while… but before we solve this problem, you must believe that population is a lord’s greatest asset! The ultimate goal of both lords and the Church is population growth…”

Sylvia was noncommittal and seemed uninterested. Victor immediately felt a bit stumped. His solution involved a major change, and while Sylvia was as wise as the sea, she was still a product of her time and probably wouldn’t be able to accept it right away. Victor paced back and forth a couple of times and decided to change his approach.

“When I was little, I had a nightmare. I was standing under a tree with a Red Queen beside me. In the distance, a wicked wolf was charging toward us. I was so scared that I ran for my life. However, after running for a long time, I was still in the same place. I yelled, ‘Why is this happening?’ The Red Queen said arrogantly, ‘Here, at your current speed, you can only stay in place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast!’”

Sylvia propped up her sharp, charming chin and asked with great interest, “And then what happened?”

“Then, I woke up in a fright.”

Sylvia chuckled and shook her head. “A Red Queen… must run at twice the speed… What are you trying to say?”

Victor had shamelessly borrowed the Red Queen’s Law from Earth.

“I think it has two meanings. First, I must run faster than the wolf to survive. The wolf must run faster than me to avoid starving. So, slower animals either get eaten or starve to death. Not moving forward is falling behind. Stagnation means extinction. This is competition.”

“Competition is everywhere. It’s true for individuals, and it’s true for families,” Victor said. “If the York family wants to win this competition, it has to keep up with the changing times and keep itself in the lead.”

Sylvia broke into a smile. “A very interesting dream… So what does the Red Queen represent?”

Victor smiled faintly. “If you run too fast all by yourself, a force will pull you back to where you started.”

“For example, when a knight pursues an enemy, if his squad can’t keep up, both the knight and his squad are in danger if he continues the chase alone. Therefore, the speed of the knight’s squad limits the knight’s speed. By the same token, a family’s reforms are affected by its established forces.”

Victor’s gaze was burning as he said, “I’m talking about our subjects and vassals.”

Sylvia sat up straight and asked, perking up, “You want to change the vassalage system?”

“No! If you run too fast, you get pulled back…”

Victor shook his head. “Darling, do you know why I’m unwilling to accept the Sabertooth Tiger Knights? Because the mindset and traditions of knights would hinder the developmental speed of the Randall family.” He paused, then gave a bitter smile. “But now that the Randell Fief has developed to this point, my own followers are starting to hold me back… The vassals and subjects of the Randall family are not very willing to accept more refugees.”

Sylvia’s eyes shone brightly. She nodded and said, “Not too fast, but not too slow either… So what is your solution?”

“Create a transitional class, below the subjects but above the refugees.” Victor wagged a long index finger. “I don’t intend to give up on population as a resource. At the same time, I also have to look out for the interests of my subjects.”

“The traditional village is the most basic administrative unit of a family. Villages produce food, manufacture goods, forge armaments, raise the next generation, train soldiers, cultivate craftsmen, and control territory. If you trace it back, the people of a village originate from a single family. They are very united and have a strong sense of kinship. Even a lord would find it difficult to shake the power of a village.” Victor shook his head and chuckled helplessly. “The problem is, they’re exclusive.”

“Mmm.” Sylvia nodded and encouraged him, “Darling, go on.”

“How do villages assimilate refugees? Through adoption with an inducement fee… The village powers only absorb the children of refugees who are good-looking and healthy. Their parents and relatives will always remain refugees.” Victor said, “Assimilating refugees through adoption with an inducement fee is too slow to keep up with the changing times. If four hundred thousand refugees flood into the Centaur Hills, the subjects of the York family truly won’t be able to handle it.”

“You’re worried that the refugee groups will form powers similar to the subjects’ villages. In that case, we can’t let the refugees stick together for survival, nor can we let the subjects be exclusive,” Victor said, laying out his strategy.

“Break up the refugees into small families attached to the subjects’ villages. I call these families ‘tenant households’.”

“Tenant households?” Sylvia chewed on the word for a moment, then pressed, “Explain.”

“A family that rents land from a subject is a tenant household.”

Victor explained in detail, “First, a tenant household must obtain a land lease certificate issued by the lord. This is to separate them from the Church’s influence. Second, tenant households will practice monogamy and cannot exceed twelve members, to prevent them from forming small factions. Tenant households with more than twelve people must arrange for the excess members themselves, or the lord will reclassify them as refugee workers. The final point is that the lord designates which village a tenant household is attached to, and they will perform basic production labor. This way, the subject families can be freed from heavy farm work and have more time for military training, learning artisan crafts, and producing goods and armaments.”

“Brilliant!” Sylvia’s smile was like a blooming flower. She urged, “Darling, keep going.”

Victor smiled and continued, “We need to distinguish between tenant households and refugee worker families to make the tenants more dependent on the lord and prevent refugee groups from growing too powerful. Therefore, we must grant tenants some special rights.”

“First, the children of tenant households have the right to an education.”

“Children from four to eight years old have no labor capacity and require limited food. They can board at a school for general education jointly run by the Church and the subjects’ villages, receive a free education, and cultivate loyalty to the family. The other members of the tenant household will then have time to work and expand production. Subject families can only choose candidates for adoption with an inducement fee from the school for general education. In addition, we will also establish military schools and artisan schools. If a tenant household wants to get ahead, they will have to spend money to send their children for further education. Both of these schools lead to the mercenary legions. In other words, the children of tenant households have the opportunity to join a mercenary legion and eventually become subjects or vassals.”

“Second, tenant households have the right to rent land.” Victor rubbed his nose and said succinctly, “Through this method, we help tenant households accumulate family wealth and establish a relationship of dependence with the subjects.”

Sylvia tapped on the table and demanded in a coquettish tone, “Details, details! Don’t think you can gloss over it!”

“Well… they get a thirty-percent share of the harvest,” Victor said cautiously.

“Thirty percent?” Sylvia’s beautiful, slender eyebrows gradually rose. “The Church takes ten percent, the subjects take thirty percent, the tenants take thirty percent… how much is left for me?”

“Thirty percent… Actually, it’s ten percent. You have to account for the vassals and the kingdom’s annual tribute,” Victor said, subtly inching backward.

Sylvia’s beautiful blue eyes widened in anger. “Ten percent? Am I, the lord, worse off than a tenant?”

Displaying an astonishing will to live, Victor quickly remedied the situation. “Darling, don’t be hasty. You have to look at the total volume. All the arable land in the Centaur Hills is yours, and you also have mines, forests, cattle, sheep, and pigs, various goods… Oh, and the transaction tax.”

“That’s still not acceptable! Grain reserves are very important!”

“The grain hasn’t decreased. It’s all stored in the village office’s bakery… When we need it, we can just take it out and use it.” Victor said nonchalantly, “Besides, what’s the use of having the grain counted under the lord’s name? The excess that can’t be eaten has to be donated to the Church anyway, right?”

Sylvia stopped, one arm across her chest, the other supporting her chin. “That does make sense… But a lord can’t just seize things by trickery or force and disregard her reputation, can she?”

“We buy it with money.” Victor smiled slyly. “Don’t forget, we can mint coins.”

Sylvia was stunned for a moment. Her eyes lit up, and biting her red lip, she said with a bewitching charm, “Darling, you’re a true genius… How should I reward you?”

“Why don’t you stay at Rose Manor and let me serve you well. You can return to the Randell Fief after Trisley comes back.”

Victor pulled the stunning and enchanting Spirit Knight into his arms and shook his head. “Darling, I’m not in a hurry to return to the Randell Fief, but I need to inspect Raven Town.”

Chapter 453: Beyond One’s Reach

After an eighteen-day journey, Victor finally arrived at the Randell family’s northern enclave—Raven Town.

The first thing he did upon stepping into Raven Castle was to climb the tower and overlook the entire town.

Three years ago, Raven Town consisted of only a castle and a village enclosed by a wooden fence. Now, its area had expanded by at least seven times, reaching nearly two-thirds the size of Laketon’s urban district. The former wooden fence had been replaced by a city wall twelve meters high and four meters wide. Within the walls were row upon row of green brick and tile-roofed houses, with a towering Church standing in the center of the town. Not far behind the Church was a one hundred mu stream reservoir, providing an abundant water source for the residents of Raven Town. A canal connected to the reservoir acted as a dividing line, splitting Raven Town into a residential area and a cargo and Trade District.

The sky was just clearing after a snow, and brilliant sunlight poured down, gilding the blanket of snow on the rooftops with a dazzling gold. The snow-covered Raven Town looked like a fairytale town forged from gold and silver, filled with a fantastical and charming air.

Victor breathed out a puff of white mist. The beauty of Raven Town, however, only made him frown.

The layout and architectural style of Raven Town were completely different from Laketon. Here, the buildings were of varying heights, each with its own character. Shops lined the streets one after another, with not even a firebreak reserved between them. The streets were winding and twisting, sometimes wide, sometimes narrow, unlike the straight, spacious streets of Laketon. Overall, it gave a sense of prosperity, crowding, and the urgency of unregulated growth.

This was not the style Victor advocated. Through the buildings of Raven Town, he saw Sophia’s influence, and a deeper problem.

The straight-line distance between Raven Town and Laketon was over eight hundred kilometers, and the journey by carriage was more than one thousand one hundred kilometers. This separation in space and time had weakened the central authority of the family over its enclave.

For the first time in his life, Victor profoundly understood the practical meaning of the saying, “a general in the field is not always bound by his sovereign’s decrees.” This was not to say that Raven Town’s Mayor Butz, Garrison Commander Old Ham, and the town’s Magistrate’s Office had defied Victor’s will, but rather that they had compromised with and adapted to reality.

Raven Town currently housed barbarians, over two thousand soldiers of the Temple Army, tax collectors from Aerie Fortress, the Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild, the Two-headed Lizard Merchant Guild, caravans from King Friedrich and Duke Nimes, and spies from various factions… Each of these groups had a more formidable background than the last, including Knight-Nobles and high-ranking clergy of the Church. Old Ham and the others simply could not handle such a scene.

When the liege lord is not present, one must follow the lady’s arrangements; to do otherwise would be betrayal.

Sophia had naturally taken over Raven Town. The Sabertooth Tiger Merchants’ Guild had long-standing collaborations with the caravans of various families, so there were always favors to be exchanged. Raven Town was now an important trading port, and all the merchants wanted a shop on the bustling commercial street. They had the Sabertooth Tiger Knights approach the Administrative Hall to present their requests.

Faced with the requests of the Sabertooth Tiger Knights and the bribes from the merchants, should Old Ham and Butz have refused, or should they have agreed?

Refusing the merchants’ bribes might have brought all sorts of trouble for their master and created a rift between their liege lord and his lady. Agreeing to the merchants’ requests meant they couldn’t possibly send a messenger raven to their master for every single shop that was built. And so, space had to be squeezed out of the commercial street even where there was none. Illegal constructions sprang up like mushrooms after a spring rain, and Raven Town eventually became what it was today.

If this was the inevitable result of Butz’s words carrying no weight, unable to withstand the internal and external pressures, then replacing him with a Knight-Noble as town mayor would only have made things worse. Victor would have been able to do nothing but collect some lordly tribute from Raven Town each year.

In fact, Butz and Old Ham had done quite well. Overall, Raven Town had not deviated from Victor’s original positioning and planning. It had mature systems for taxation and handicrafts, as well as relatively complete infrastructure. It was just that barbarians had replaced Alchemical humans in continuously delivering resources from the Larkspur Mountains to Raven Town to be processed into goods and sold. Moreover, the merchants had paid out of their own pockets to buy bricks and build houses, yet the property rights belonged to Victor. The rent they paid this year for shops and warehouses amounted to six hundred Gold Sol. The commodity transaction tax in Raven Town exceeded one thousand six hundred Gold Sol, and the sales profit from processed goods was five thousand eight hundred Gold Sol.

In a single year, Raven Town had turned over a fortune of eight thousand Gold Sol, equivalent to a quarter of Laketon’s annual income, while its territory was less than one-eighth the size of the Randell Fief.

Besides income from the fief, a lord hopes even more that his subordinates will carry out his will to the letter. But a lord is not omnipotent; he clearly cannot decide everything.

Whether under a vassalage system or a centralized one, the will of the ruling class is subject to environmental factors. It was like how the Sassans could brew alcohol with green wheat; if a southern lord tried to brew alcohol with wheat, the resident priest would curse him to no end.

Different environments create different ways of life, which in turn give rise to different cultures. Even modern nations with highly developed communications and transportation must adapt to environmental changes, respect local customs, and formulate different local policies and regulations for different regions.

A modern Western philosopher from Earth once said: He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you. But an ancient proverb from Huaxia offers a more profound perspective: He who is near vermilion is stained red, he who is near ink is stained black; a harmonious sound gives a clear echo, an upright form casts a straight shadow.

The weak are assimilated by their environment, while the strong adapt to and also transform their environment. The secret to this is not force, but ideology.

Victor controlled the Alchemy Tower and had great potential for war. But compared to the Church, the force at his command was not worth a second glance. Even the Auguste family could easily take him out. In a protracted war of attrition, the Alchemy Tower could not even cope with a single powerful lord. It took twelve hours for the Alchemy Tower to create one Alchemical human, whereas a powerful lord could replenish his troops instantly. When an alchemical soldier died in battle, his equipment was lost with him. How could a newly created, empty-handed Alchemical militia fight?

The power accumulated by the great families over a thousand years was not something Victor could easily shake.

Auguste commanded over a thousand Swift Dragon Knights, yet even he could not control the entire Kingdom of Gambia; he still had to collude with lords from various regions. What then of Raven Town, over a thousand kilometers away from Victor, or the even more distant mountain folk villages?

Sylvia had said: “If you reach too far, your hand will be chopped off!” This was a warning to all powers, including the Church and the King.

Force is limited by environment and distance, but ideas are not limited by space.

Victor’s greatest trump card was the Alchemy Tower, but his greatest advantage was that the House of Randell was as clean and pure as an infant, allowing him to mold and transform it as he wished.

A centralized system was clearly more efficient than the feudal system, but feudalism was deeply ingrained in people’s hearts, and the members of the House of Randell were all influenced by it. Fortunately, they had not formed village clans powerful enough to oppose the central authority, which gave Victor the opportunity to create a new state of affairs.

The tenant household system could transform the vassal families of the Randell Fief into a landlord class. The chasm between the upper-class man and the lower-class people ensured they would not form powerful clan forces by marrying into tenant households. And small, weak families were no match for the will of their sovereign.

The policy of hiding wealth among the people and public education could unite the small families under their sovereign, forming the ideological foundation for a unified empire.

Nipping the budding clan powers, hiding wealth among the people, and public education—as long as Victor handled these three things well, he could still accept Knight-Nobles. In another thirty years, the competitive advantage of the House of Randell would be unparalleled. Other noble families, even if they introduced a tenant household system, would not be able to change course, not unless a bloody revolution erupted in their territories, shattering all the village clan powers.

Compared to the overall development strategy of the House of Randell, the architectural layout of Raven Town and the mountain folk villages returning to the fold of neighboring lords were all insignificant, trivial details, not worth mentioning.

Looking at the scenery of Raven Town again, Victor’s mood suddenly brightened.

Victor left the tower and returned to the Knight’s Hall of Raven Castle. Butz and Old Ham had been waiting for a long time.

A fire was blazing in the hearth, its rolling heat waves dispelling the chill of the Knight’s Hall. On the walls hung swords, shields, battleaxes, and one-handed halberds, along with five stark white ox skull specimens.

“Wild, primitive, with a forceful beauty. It’s quite good.”

Victor retracted his gaze, made his assessment, and sat down on the lord’s throne.

“My lord, these ox skulls are the handiwork of the barbarians,” Raven Town’s Garrison Commander, Old Ham, said cheerfully.

A thought struck Victor, and he asked, “The barbarians have started a business in handicrafts?”

“They don’t do business with ox skulls.” Old Ham shook his head and explained, “Our mistress was worried the barbarians would cause trouble, so she had people transport wild red bulls from the Warton Great Plains to Raven Town to serve as trial prey for the young barbarians. The barbarians value the skulls of their prey. They gave the ox skulls to Raven Town as a symbol of friendship because we taught them the art of brewing.”

Victor was silent for a moment, then asked, “What else have the barbarians learned?”

Mayor Butz took over, “My lord, seven kilometers east of Raven Town, there is another stream reservoir, three hundred mu in size, which the barbarians and the Sacred Warriors helped dig. The town walls were also built with the barbarians’ help. The soft silver ore they mined has filled three warehouses, and they also help herd cattle and sheep, gather medicinal herbs, feed pigs, log trees, build houses, and forge weapons… As long as we give them food and drink, they are willing to do any work, uh… except farming. That’s the one thing they refuse to learn.”

“Forging weapons? Who is teaching the barbarians to forge weapons?”

“The Sacred Warriors.”

Victor frowned slightly. The barbarians learning human production and labor techniques was itself a cause for vigilance. What was most suspicious was why the Church would impart the techniques of ironworking and forging to the barbarians. Weren’t they afraid of losing their technological advantage over them?

Suppressing the doubt in his heart, Victor changed the subject with a teasing tone, “You two are glowing with health. Life seems to be treating you well.”

Old Ham and Butz glanced at each other and gave a sheepish laugh. “We’re tired of taking the money, but we can’t refuse it…”

“You can take the money, but your hand can’t go soft, and your heart even less so.” Victor laughed heartily. “From now on, the bribes those people give you don’t need to be turned over to the Inspector. I permit you and the town magistrate to keep thirty percent, with the remaining seventy percent going into Raven Town’s treasury. But there must be detailed accounts.”

“Thank you for your generosity, Master,” Old Ham and Butz said, placing a hand over their chests in a salute.

Victor waved his hand and said with a serious expression, “Taking money and gifts is fine, but you absolutely cannot take women, nor can you touch the waitresses in the taverns. This is the bottom line I am drawing for you.”

Seeing Victor’s cold, grim eyes, a chill ran down Old Ham’s and Butz’s spines. They said in unison, “Master, we would never dare to defy your will.”

Victor’s expression softened as he admonished them, “All great families have an ironclad rule: village and town heads can only marry household maids trained by the lord’s wife. The merchants in Raven Town are all spies for the various families; there are more spies here than merchants. The things you know are limited, but the power you hold is very useful to them. These spies have no way to control you, except through women and children. Therefore, your children must be sent to Silver Moon Manor at the age of four to receive attendant education. This is for your protection. If you get involved with women from the outside, don’t blame me for disregarding our past relationship.”

“Master, I will engrave your teachings in my memory,” the two men said in unison.

Victor nodded and leaned back in his chair. “I came this time mainly to see Elder Harald. I won’t be in Raven Town for many days. If you have any difficulties, you can tell me now.”

“Raven Town is short of manpower,” Garrison Commander Old Ham said, looking up. “Right now, Raven Town has a permanent population of about seventeen thousand, but only a little over five thousand are the family’s registered subjects. The rest come from all over—Dodor, Naville, Sus, Borea, and even the Sassans. And these people don’t seem like scattered refugees; they each have their own factions and are engaged in endless scheming… With the two hundred and eighty soldiers under my command, it’s a bit much to handle.”

“My lord, could you send me another three hundred men for a mercenary army?” Old Ham asked cautiously.

Victor tapped on the armrest and shook his head. “Raven Town is a free trade town. I cannot station too many troops here, lest I provoke a backlash from Viscount Negus and Viscount Soren… Raven Town has the Church’s two thousand Sacred Warriors. Those people can’t make any waves. Once the barbarians leave, they will naturally leave as well.”

Old Ham and Butz looked worried. After all, they were not Knights, and they lacked the ability to protect themselves against the pressures from various factions.

Victor thought for a moment and said, “How about this: I will go find Priest Kent in a bit and ask for his Sacred Warriors to help patrol the territory. You only need to guard the castle and be responsible for the order within the town. In addition, the Two-headed Lizard Merchant Guild is also a strong ally for Raven Town. If anything happens, you can go and consult with them. Great Knight Viscount Harnas’s army will enter Raven Town at the first sign of trouble.”

“Are there any other problems?”

“No more,” Butz said, shaking his head.

Victor waved his hand and ordered, “Prepare a carriage for me, and send someone to the Sacred Warrior garrison to contact Priest Kent. Tell him that Viscount Randell wishes to pay him a visit.”

“As you wish, Honored Master.”

Butz and Old Ham bowed and took their leave. Victor watched their departing figures and thought to himself, “It’s time to cultivate the secret knights of the House of Randell.”

Chapter 454: Priest Kent

On the west side of Raven Town, at the Sacred Warrior garrison.

“Your Excellency Kent, this is a suit of close-fitting soft armor tanned from the hide of a Giant Python. The Giant Pythons of the Lizard Marsh are immensely powerful, impervious to blade and sword. Their hides are exceedingly tough, offering strong resistance to slashing and piercing attacks, though the hide’s lack of thickness means it offers little protection against blunt-force trauma. But precisely because it is thin and smooth, it can be worn as soft armor under a suit of mail. The craftsmen of the York family used a special process to merge two layers of python hide into one, sandwiching a layer of densely woven Cassan vine armor in between, with an inner lining of soft, sweat-absorbent takin leather. The end result is this suit of python-hide soft armor. Tests have shown that this armor can withstand a volley of crossbow bolts at close range. If worn with an outer layer of Dragon-Lizard leather armor, even a military heavy crossbow cannot pierce it from beyond one hundred and fifty meters.”

Victor presented the gift, taking the opportunity to size up Kent, the sixth-rank battle priest of the Temple Army.

He was about sixty years old, wearing exquisitely crafted Dragon-Lizard leather armor, over which lay an Adamantine suit of chainmail that shimmered with a purple light. He was tall and sturdy, his muscles full and well-proportioned, giving him an appearance that was both strong and agile. His exposed skin had an oily, bronze sheen—the mark of having undergone three body reconstructions and being treated with the Church’s secret potions.

Sixth-rank priests were known as Legendary Priests. This was not to say that a sixth-rank priest’s personal martial prowess could rival that of a Legendary Knight; in fact, their combat ability was lower than that of an ordinary Knight. But on the battlefield, the impact of a sixth-rank priest was greater than that of a Gold Knight, possessing the tide-turning ability of a legendary powerhouse.

However, battle priests specialized in combat. Their martial skills were far more formidable than those of ordinary priests, generally reaching the level of an initial-rank apprentice knight. But on the battlefield, battle priests were priority targets for beastmen powerhouses. For a battle priest to successfully advance to the sixth rank, luck, personal strength, wisdom, and combat experience were all indispensable.

Thus, sixth-rank battle priests served as commanders in the Temple Army. They were far fewer in number and much younger than the sixth-rank preaching priests.

Kent was a prime example of an outstanding battle priest. He came from an ordinary vassal family in the Teutonic Duchy. Lacking any significant background, he could only start as a battle priest in a Temple Army squad. He had experienced countless fierce battles, and through personal effort and Divine Favor, he had advanced step-by-step to become a sixth-rank clergyman.

As a commoner priest, Kent had ignited his fire of the mind in the life-and-death struggles against the beastmen tribes. The Church’s secret art of body forging had allowed his physique to break through mortal limits, reaching the level of a senior apprentice knight. With martial skill alone, he could contend with an initial-rank Knight. If he activated a high-rank Sacred Warrior Crystal and combined it with his sixth-rank divine arts, he even had the astonishing record of holding his own against a Gold-rank Centaur Khan.

Now, Kent served as an aide to Wallace, the Vice-Commander of the Temple Army, with two hundred Horned Wolf Sacred Warriors and one thousand eight hundred Junior Sacred Warriors under his command. His extraordinary power and social status were equivalent to that of a Gold Knight.

As Victor sized up Priest Kent, Kent was also secretly observing the renowned Viscount Randell.

The young lord with black hair and black eyes possessed a beauty that transcended the mundane. His skin was fair and lustrous, shimmering with the glow of life. A faint, intermittent breeze swirled around his body, accentuating a mysterious and noble air. Beneath his long, straight eyebrows was a pair of deep, ink-black eyes. His gaze was calm yet profound, as if he possessed the extraordinary ability to see through to the truth. Though he was looking straight ahead, it gave one the feeling of being scrutinized from a great height.

Kent couldn’t help but feel a little discouraged. Moon Elves were inherently a Silver-rank, long-lived race, their level of life naturally higher than that of humans. Even if Viscount Randell wasn’t pure Moon Elf royalty, he couldn’t be far from it. He associated with the most powerful and influential figures. In his presence, a sixth-rank battle priest had no reason to be proud and was, in fact, at a disadvantage.

That fellow Wallace just left, and now Viscount Randell shows up… this can’t be good!

Kent grumbled internally, but his face maintained a cordial smile. He took the python-hide soft armor and exclaimed, “This is truly a fine thing… A battle priest’s physique is not as robust as a Sacred Warrior’s, so we can’t wear heavy refined iron scale armor. Besides, in close-quarters combat, nimbleness is more important than sturdy defense. To deceive the beastmen, battle priests usually imitate the Sacred Warriors and wear only leather armor. This is also the main reason for the high casualties among battle priests. If this python-hide soft armor could be widely distributed, it could save the lives of many battle priests.”

“Giant Pythons are not numerous to begin with, and they are very dangerous.”

Victor shook his head and said with a troubled expression, “The Swamp Scouts of the Randall family only captured three Giant Pythons last year, and we lost two men in the process. The hides from three pythons can only make eight sets of this soft armor… I’m afraid it will be very difficult to popularize it.”

Kent sighed, then switched to a smile. “The Vine-hide hard armor from the Centaur Hills is also quite good… I just wonder when the Centaur Hills will be willing to make the production method for Vine-hide armor public.”

Priest Kent was beating around the bush, refusing to get to the point, but Victor had patience in spades. He shook his head and smiled. “That’s almost impossible, unless the Church can convince other families to publicize their own technologies… including the Church’s own Monasteries.”

Priest Kent chuckled, then shook his head again. “I’ve always found it perplexing. The lords and the Church share a common enemy, so why is everyone so unwilling to share their achievements? Although I have repeatedly called for the Church to disclose some secret techniques to the secular lords, the Curia has always rejected it.”

Victor thought for a moment, then nodded and said, “I admire Your Excellency’s character and virtues, but keeping techniques secret is a necessity. If everyone could just wait for others to invent and create, no one would be willing to innovate. Take the Vine-hide armor, for example. If the Temple Army is willing to fund the purchase of Vine-hide armor, the Centaur Hills could expand its production scale and reduce manufacturing costs. Once the York family earns a profit, they will be willing to invest more Gold Sols to fund their family scholars and engage in technological innovation. As the lords of the Centaur Hills become prosperous, the Church’s tithe will naturally increase. This is actually a win-win method of cooperation.”

Kent was stunned for a long while, then murmured, “I feel your view is very reasonable… But, the servants of the Supreme Lord cannot engage in business, lest their faith be corrupted by greed.”

“Of course, the servants of the Supreme Lord cannot engage in trade.”

Victor said with a smile, “But we can be clever about the method. For instance, the lords donate the Vine-hide armor, and the Church provides rewards or… relief aid.”

Priest Kent put down the python-hide soft armor in his hands, his expression serious as he shook his head. “Donations are a sign of piety to the Lord; they cannot be tainted with selfish motives.”

Victor was taken aback for a moment. He immediately stood up, placed a hand on his chest in a salute, and said sincerely, “My apologies, I misspoke.”

“Your Excellency also meant well…” Kent waved his hand and said earnestly, “But the Lord’s teachings must not be transgressed!” A hint of regret and frustration flickered in his eyes.

Victor sat down again and said with a smile, “Then let’s use the method of a designated tithe, allowing the Temple Army to receive a sufficient supply of Vine-hide armor.”

“What?” Priest Kent looked up, his face a mask of astonishment.

Victor smiled faintly. “The Curia issues an edict, requiring the Sasan Empire to purchase Vine-hide hard armor from the Centaur Hills as its tithe, to be handed over to the Sacred Warriors of the Temple Army.”

“Yes, that’s a brilliant idea!”

Priest Kent stood up excitedly, clasping his hands behind his back and pacing back and forth in the room. He stopped, then laughed heartily. “Your Excellency Randell, you have truly done me a great service.”

Kent was over sixty. His physical strength was declining, and his personal power was past its peak. He was no longer suitable to serve as a front-line battle priest in the Temple Army. The Radiant Knights had stationed him to guard the barbarians, which was also a protective measure. When the barbarians crossed the river to head south, it would be his time to leave the Temple Army. Patriarch Frieders intended to appoint Kent as a Bishop of a region, but Kent believed a sixth-rank priest deserved at least the position of a Cardinal, and he even hoped to secure a seat on the Curia’s Council. However, being far from the Temple Army’s command center, Kent had no opportunity to network. He urgently needed to put forward a political initiative of his own to re-enter the sights of the Radiant Knights.

Victor’s suggestion was exactly what Kent wanted. Regardless of whether the Curia accepted the proposal of a designated tithe, Kent’s backer in the Radiant Knights—the Eresrel family—could speak on his behalf.

Priest Kent naturally let his guard down. He returned to his chair and asked enthusiastically, “Your Excellency Randell, what matter brought you to see me today?”

Victor had long since gotten a clear picture of Kent’s background through Sylvia and Sophia. He might be an excellent military commander, but his political wisdom and historical knowledge were far inferior to that of Wallace, who came from the Eresrel family. Victor wanted to confirm the relationship between the Alchemical Empire and Halotes Fortress from the mouth of the barbarian Elder. But due to Wallace’s presence, Victor had not had a face-to-face conversation with Elder Harald, lest the Eresrel family see through his plans.

With Wallace accompanying Sophia on a visit to the Sasan Empire, Victor finally had the opportunity to visit the barbarian Elder.

In truth, the suggestion of a designated tithe was not Victor’s spur-of-the-moment decision. It was something he, Sylvia, and Sophia had discussed and agreed upon.

For a long time, resident priests had always been able to grasp the non-core technologies of various families through the lords’ craftsmen. The Church had no need to change its tithe collection methods for a new product. However, Vine-hide armor was indeed a fine thing, but the Church would not provoke a Spirit Knight just for its production technique. The Centaur Hills had the armor but no large orders, which was ultimately a problem.

If the Church issued an edict designating that the lords of the Sasan Empire pay their tithe with Vine-hide armor, then the Centaur Hills could bypass the Gambis Royal Family’s ban on military equipment exports. With more buyers, the price of Vine-hide armor would naturally rise, thereby increasing the revenue of the Centaur Hills. By the same logic, the lords of Gambis could also purchase technological products from other kingdoms in the name of paying their tithe. Against the backdrop of the great expansion, as long as everyone was willing to sit down and talk, there was no military equipment that couldn’t be exchanged.

Frequent commercial activity would not only create favorable conditions for the development of The Golden Company, but the Curia would also need to entrust a neutral commercial organization to handle the settlement and transportation of tithe goods. By cooperating with the Church, The Golden Company was bound to become a behemoth of a commercial organization.

Priest Kent had no idea that even if he didn’t make the suggestion, another clergyman would have proposed it to the Curia. Pope Clement would see to it that this matter was accomplished. Because a neutral Golden Company could help him further expand the Curia’s influence.

Victor said with a smile, “Your Excellency Kent, I have come specifically to thank you. The Sacred Warriors and the barbarians helped Raven Town excavate two stream reservoirs. One solved the town’s water supply issue, and the other has given me an additional twenty-one thousand mu of arable land. Oh, and the town walls of Raven Town were also built with the help of the Sacred Warriors…”

“The walls are still less than half complete. However, please rest assured, Your Excellency, the Sacred Warriors will finish the remaining walls next year.” Priest Kent leaned to the side and smiled at Victor. “Speaking of which, having the barbarians help Raven Town build walls and dig canals was your wife’s idea. To be honest, I was also worried that the barbarians would get bored and stir up trouble. Viscountess Randell having the barbarians excavate useless soft silver ore and build walls actually solved a big problem for me.”

Heh, that was my idea, Victor thought smugly, but he said politely, “Your Excellency Kent, I intend to visit Harald and express my gratitude to him personally.”

Kent’s gray eyes contracted slightly. He sat up straight, gave two dry laughs, and said, “Your Excellency, Elder Harald and the barbarians are living in Skylark Mountain to the west. The mountain is snowed in now, and the paths are difficult to travel… Why not wait until the weather warms and the barbarians descend from the mountain? You can visit aelder Harald then?”

“Then I shall stay in Raven Town for a month. In any case, the Season of Water will be over in a few days,” Victor said with unconcerned smile.

Kent’s thick eyebrows furrowed. He calculated that there was no way Wallace could return within a month. Thus, he shook his head helplessly and said, “Viscount Randell, to be frank with you, many lords are interested in the barbarians, but barbarian diplomatic relations are of great importance. It is best for lords not to establish private connections directly with Elder Harald, to avoid causing misunderstandings with other families. I believe it would be better for Your Excellency to avoid suspicion.”

“This is Raven Town.”

“The barbarians’ camp is on Skylark Mountain, which is not the territory of the House of Randell.”

“As the lord of Raven Town, it is all the more reason for me to foster good relations with my powerful neighbors.”

“The Sacred Warriors will protect the townspeople’s safety. Moreover, Her Highness Sylvia and Elder Harald have already reached The Agreement not to harm each other.” Priest Kent shook his head repeatedly, refusing to give an inch.

Victor’s smile vanished. He tapped his index finger on the tabletop and said bluntly, “But I doubt your impartiality. If a conflict arises between the barbarians and my subjects, I don’t believe the Sacred Warriors will remain neutral.”

The young lord’s aggressive attitude thoroughly annoyed Kent. He remained silent for a long time before saying sullenly, “Viscount Randell, please think of the bigger picture.” After a pause, he added, “Even if Her Highness Sylvia were here in person, I would not agree.”

Victor stood up and stated with a cold expression, “Either you accompany me, or I go by myself.”

Kent was inwardly enraged, but he suddenly caught a flicker of golden light in Victor’s eyes. He was greatly startled. Looking closely again, all he saw was the same pair of deep, black eyes, as if that flash of golden light had been an illusion.

How could a Legendary Priest have an illusion?

Kent was certain his eyes had not deceived him. He pondered for a moment, then, meeting Victor’s surprised gaze, he said with a hint of restraint, “Your Excellency, please forgive my rudeness, but if you agree to let me use the Art of True Sight to examine your condition, I can take you to see Elder Harald.”

Victor thought for a moment and nodded his consent.

A circle of tiny runes materialized in Priest Kent’s eyes, dyeing his gray irises a sacred and solemn platinum-gold. He studied Victor carefully for a moment, and his platinum-gold pupils gradually returned to normal.

“Is there something wrong with my body?” Victor asked curiously.

“Ah, no, nothing is wrong, Your Excellency is very healthy.” Priest Kent came to his senses and said, wringing his hands, “Uh… if you have any questions, you can ask Her Highness Sylvia… It’s not really convenient for me to discuss matters between you and Her Highness Sylvia.”

“How about this, you prepare yourself, and we’ll set off immediately to visit Elder Harald?” Priest Kent lowered his posture, seeking Victor’s opinion.

Victor thought for a moment and decided to see Harald first. He would ask Sylvia about the divine art of true sight later. He nodded and said, “Alright, I’ll return to Raven Castle now to prepare a gift.”

Priest Kent personally escorted Victor to the main gate of the Sacred Warrior garrison. Turning back, he returned to his study, took out a sheet of parchment and a quill, and bent over his desk to write: Victor Wimbledon Randell. His entire body presents the jade-green color representing the void water element. The region of his head has a small patch of golden brilliance, which is spreading towards his eyes.

Kent put down the quill, rolled up the letter, sealed it with wax, and shouted towards the door, “Ziman! Ziman! For our Lord’s sake, get your ass in here!”

Before long, an Adjudicator clad in Dragon-Lizard leather armor walked into the study, saluted, and said, “My lord, what can I do for you?”

Kent placed the letter into a wooden box, shoved it into the hands of his confidant, and clapped him on the shoulder, saying, “Deliver this letter to Lord Eresrel. Remember, no one else must see it.”

“Which Lord Eresrel? Lord Wallace?”

“Idiot! Would I call that fellow Wallace ‘My Lord’? I’m talking about His Highness Eresrel of the Radiant Knights!”

Chapter 455: The Mystery of the Grayhollow Satyrs

The barbarian camp was not far from Raven Town, but the mountain path was rugged and winding. Snow, half a meter deep, concealed the trail, and a single careless step could send one tumbling into the deep ravines below.

Fortunately, Victor, Priest Kent, and their entourage were no ordinary people. A Legendary Priest accompanied by two Adjudicators, four mid-rank Sacred Warriors, a Wind Walk Archer, and two Elite Guards could handle most perilous environments. And Caligula’s performance was simply astounding.

The big oaf carried several hundred pounds of metal ingots on his back and walked at the very front of the group. He seemed to treat clearing the snow as a game. The long pole he had used to probe the snow was long gone; now, as soon as Priest Kent pointed in a direction, he would stride forward on his long, thick legs, plowing a path through the snow with sheer force. Then, with a silly grin, he would stand a hundred meters away, waiting for the party to catch up.

The legendary battle priest, treading the path Caligula had cleared, remarked with emotion, “Your Excellency, this member of your entourage is no ordinary man.”

Based on his strength and stamina alone, Caligula could be compared to a barbarian warrior. His choice of path was also exceptionally accurate, as if he was born knowing where the path was and where the pits were.

Victor’s Blind Sense had a maximum radius of 2.2 meters, but it couldn’t penetrate solid objects that blocked the air. The air within the snow was thin, and Victor could barely perceive the road conditions half a meter below the surface. Without activating his Wind Walk talent to lighten his body, it would be impossible for him to sprint through the snowy mountain terrain like Caligula without losing his footing.

One could only say that Caligula’s intuition was exceptionally sharp. To describe it using the theory of the Golden Toad Mystic Form, it was the state of “reflecting the world with one’s mind.”

Victor, half-jealous and half-deflecting, shook his head. “A pity he’s a timid fool. He doesn’t even dare to kill a cow, and he still hasn’t learned to pray.”

As expected, Priest Kent lost interest in Caligula. The youngest Sacred Warrior even showed a look of disdain and disgust.

In the eyes of the clergy, an idiot who couldn’t pray was a lamb forgotten by the Lord. If even the clergy couldn’t redeem him, he must be burdened with original sin. The Church believed such people should be left to fend for themselves. Viscount Randell had likely taken the big oaf in because of his strength, and also as a way to flaunt the nobles’ virtue of benevolence.

In truth, Victor had high hopes for Caligula. His intelligence was developing in sync with his teeth. If Caligula ever had a breakthrough, perhaps not even Narsen would be his match.

Of course, even if Caligula ultimately couldn’t overcome his timid and cowardly nature, it didn’t matter. After spending so many days together, Victor had already formed a master-servant bond with the kind and simple-hearted oaf. At the very least, he possessed the brute strength and intuition of an Ogre, and his knack for scouting paths and avoiding danger was invaluable.

With Caligula clearing the way, Victor’s group took only half an hour to reach the barbarian settlement.

The camp was situated on the peak of the highest hill. There were no fences or walls, just shanties made of logs that looked like snow mounds sitting on a thick blanket of snow. Two barbarians spotted the approaching group from afar and came to meet them. They wore only loincloths of animal hide, their broad chests bare, covered in tattoos and scars. Their gnarled muscles seemed to contain endless power, and around their thick necks hung necklaces of beast teeth, most of which were from Gnolls.

Ever since the barbarians had settled on Skylark Mountain west of Raven Town, the surrounding Gnoll tribes had met with disaster. The Sacred Warriors had guided the barbarians to use the Gnolls for combat trials, and Viscount Negus had easily claimed two thousand square kilometers of wilderness. In a sense, this was the fruit of the alliance between humans and barbarians.

Priest Kent was clearly familiar with the two barbarian sentinels. He left the group and spoke cordially with them in the barbarian tongue. Caligula, meanwhile, shrank behind Reno, seemingly trying to hide his 2.3-meter-tall frame behind Reno’s 1.9-meter-tall body.

The moment he saw barbarians taller and stronger than himself, the guy immediately chickened out.

Over there, the two barbarian warriors conversed with Priest Kent for a moment before turning to lead Victor and the others into the camp.

Inside the camp, the sound of hammers striking anvils was incessant. Most of the barbarians were busy forging weapons. Only some barbarian women were active outside, gathered in small circles of three or five, constantly rubbing the bodies of newborns with snow.

Compared to human infants, barbarian newborns were oversized. Their little arms and legs had distinct muscle lines. The bone-chilling snow touched their reddish skin, causing puffs of white mist to rise. Such a cold environment seemed overly harsh even for barbarian babies. When an infant’s cries were no longer loud, a female barbarian would pull over a snorting, red-furred bull, knock the beast of over three thousand pounds to the ground with a single punch, take out a sharp axe, slice open its belly, and stuff the dying infant into the steaming hot abdominal cavity, leaving only its head outside.

At this point, an older barbarian woman would begin to softly chant to the infant in the bull’s belly. The syllables were pure sound, devoid of meaning, yet they were filled with a mysterious power. She would only turn to the next infant when the first one began to snore peacefully.

Victor perceived that the chanting caused the infant’s heartbeat and the bull’s hot blood to vibrate, achieving a sustained resonance between the two, which created an all-encompassing stimulation of the infant’s body, both inside and out.

“Kajin the singer, a female barbarian who has mastered a mysterious power. It is said that this ritual helps barbarian infants absorb a beast’s life force, making them stronger and more resilient. It’s equivalent to the body reforging of a human Mystic Warrior,” Priest Kent explained to Victor.

The beast-tooth necklaces and the newborn ritual represented the barbarians’ traditions, while the iron forging represented their innovation. A guess began to form in Victor’s mind. He nodded and followed Priest Kent towards the largest wooden house in the center of the camp.

“You all stay outside.”

Priest Kent gave the order and lifted the reindeer-hide door flap. Victor nodded to Reno and Shak, indicating they should follow the priest’s arrangements, and turned to enter the house. The barbarian sentinel took the large wooden crate from Caligula’s hands and followed him inside. The Alchemical militia and Caligula were led away by the Sacred Warriors.

Orange-red flames danced in the fire pit, illuminating the barbarian Elder’s body, which was covered in scars and muscle. He sat on a crude, ugly, yet incredibly sturdy oak stool, holding a piece of gleaming obsidian and honing the great axe in his hands. He looked up, his cornflower-blue eyes meeting the visitors, and an oppressive aura, heavy as a mountain, washed over them.

Victor activated X-3, dissolving the mental pressure. His dark pupils became deep and cold, like a bottomless abyss that could absorb all light.

Harald’s pupils contracted slightly. He reined in his aura and said in the Common Tongue, “Young elf, I can feel the sharp, ruthless power within you. You have the Qualification to be my enemy, or my friend.”

Priest Kent’s eyes flashed like burning flames. He took a step forward and said in the barbarian tongue, “Elder Harald, this is Sophia Urus’s husband. He is not your enemy.”

“And I’m not an elf.”

Victor spoke in fluent barbarian. “Harald Gorsa, you seem hostile towards elves?”

Priest Kent was taken aback. He turned his head and asked in surprise, “Your Excellency Randell, you can speak the barbarian tongue?”

“I just learned in the last three months,” Victor answered calmly.

Kent was speechless. He came from a vassal family in the Teutonic Duchy and had started dealing with the barbarians at the foot of the mountains since he was a boy. It had taken him a full five years to master their language. Yet Victor had managed it in just three months, and was already speaking it fluently.

How could the gap between a natural extraordinary and an ordinary person be so vast?

With X-3’s powerful memory, analysis, and induction functions, Victor could easily master any language in the Human language family, as long as the vocal cord structures were similar. In fact, he had spent only three afternoons specifically learning the barbarian tongue. His classroom had been a carriage, and his tutors were Sophia and Natalya.

“I know of you, but I’m not sure if you are Sophia Urus’s spouse, or Lady Sylvia’s spouse?” the barbarian Elder said, perplexed, as he continued to hone his axe. “I’ve never been able to understand your complex human family relationships.”

Victor’s expression turned awkward, and he didn’t know what to say. Priest Kent, having composed himself, explained dryly, “Er… well, Knights are not ordinary humans. Female Knights, in particular, have a duty to improve their children’s knight’s bloodline to prevent it from declining. So, they will share a partner with a strong bloodline.”

“Barbarians are the same. The strong have multiple female barbarian spouses, while the weak do not have the right to procreate.”

Harald looked up. “But in Raven Town, I see many fat, weak men and old men who have multiple wives, while those strong young human men often have no spouse… It seems ordinary human males decide who has the right to reproduce based on their different clothes… Will such human infants be strong?”

Priest Kent was dumbfounded. He was speechless for a long moment before saying, “Uh… I think what Gorsa says makes a lot of sense.”

“What a strange race,” the barbarian Elder said, shaking his head and returning to his work.

Victor gave a dry cough and asked, “Harald Gorsa, why are you hostile towards elves?”

“The elves recruited the Mountain Dwarves, forcing me to leave the great and harsh Mount Halotes.”

“Can you be more specific?”

Harald focused intently on honing his weapon. Sparks flew as the obsidian continuously scraped against the axe blade, the piercing sound echoing lonely in the room.

“I’ve brought a gift for the barbarians.”

Victor turned and opened the wooden crate. Inside were stacks of pale purple metal ingots. “Here are five hundred pounds of refined iron ingots mixed with Adamantine. They can be used to forge strong, sharp Adamantine weapons.”

Harald stood up, his tall back covering half the wall. He said, “What do you need the Children of Arreat to do for you?”

“I want to help my barbarian friends.” Victor shook his head and smiled. “The natural environment of the Southern Continent is different from the Arreat Plateau. I see that Elder Harald is having his people learn human production techniques, presumably so your people can survive and prosper on the Southern Continent. You don’t seem very confident in finding the sacred object. It could take hundreds of years, or even longer… or you might never find it. I am willing to help the barbarians find the sacred object. Although success isn’t guaranteed, humans are numerous. With our help, your chances of recovering the sacred object will be greater. Perhaps you can return to your homeland of Arreat within your lifetime.”

Harald glanced at Priest Kent and asked, “Your King has already promised to help me find the sacred object. Is he going back on his word?”

Priest Kent frantically signaled to Victor with his eyes, but Victor shook his head and said, “The promises of the King and the Church are of course valid. I’ve only come to confirm what the barbarian sacred object looks like.” As he spoke, he took a piece of Saronite Demon Iron Ore from his belt pouch and handed it to Priest Kent beside him.

Kent examined the ore in his hand and asked in surprise, “Is this Blackgold Ore? Your Excellency, where did you find this?”

A thought flashed through Victor’s mind, but he shook his head nonchalantly. “I don’t know what kind of ore it is… The Swamp Scouts under my command discovered this mineral in the Lizard Marsh. I thought its color and luster were similar to the runes in the illustrated book of the barbarian sacred object provided by His Excellency Constantine, so I brought it for Elder Harald to identify.”

Kent weighed the Saronite Demon Iron Ore, tossed it to Harald, and explained to Victor with a smile, “In ancient times, this was called Blackgold, and it only existed in the Era of the Chosen. It has the property of conducting the void element. Equipment forged by ancient Knights from Blackgold, Mithril, and Adamantine was superior to our modern Mithril gear. However, smelting Blackgold Ore requires extremely high temperatures, which our modern furnaces cannot achieve. The forging methods for Blackgold equipment have been lost. The Nachtigal family’s ‘Morning’s Light’ is possibly the only surviving Blackgold longsword.”

Harald looked at the ore in his hand and nodded. “This is indeed Blackgold Ore, the Mountain Dwarves’ favorite.”

Victor added the relevant information into X-3 and asked, “I heard that you, Harald Gorsa, possess a replica of the sacred object. May I see it?”

The barbarian Elder lifted a beast-hide rug, took a replica from a hidden compartment in the floor, and tossed it to Victor.

It was a semi-circular metal object, forged entirely from Mithril. The black runes on the front and back were inscribed with Saronite Demon Iron.

“It looks like a component of some device,” Victor probed, walking forward to return the replica to Harald.

“The style, size, material, and patterns are all the same as the sacred object, but it is not the sacred object,” Harald said, placing the replica back in the compartment. “The Mountain Dwarves forged this replica. We always thought it was the real thing, until the Mountain Dwarf king demanded the sacred object from Harotus. Only then did we and the dwarves realize it was a fake.”

“The dwarves demanded the sacred object from you? Isn’t the sacred object barbarian property?” Victor asked, completely baffled.

“No.” Harald shook his head. “The barbarians have no sacred object, no prophecy… The sacred object and the prophecy both belong to the dwarves… The Children of the High Mountain failed their promise, so the Mountain Dwarves left us.”

Victor composed himself, sat down on the crate, and asked, “What exactly happened at Arreat over eighty years ago? Why did the Mountain Dwarves migrate?”

“I wasn’t born over eighty years ago,” the barbarian Elder said flatly, running a coarse thumb over his axe blade.

“…”

“According to the Great Elder, over eighty years ago, a few elves came to Arreat. They demanded that the Mountain Dwarf king honor an ancient pact and hand over the Source of Power. The dwarf king then demanded that Harotus hand over the sacred object that the barbarians had guarded for generations. But the sacred object was a fake. The dwarf king couldn’t hand over the Source of Power, so he had to honor the ancient pact and lead a million Mountain Dwarves to migrate with the elven envoys.”

Harald threw down his axe and continued, “Before the dwarf king left, he accused Harotus of failing to keep his oath to safeguard the sacred object for the dwarves. He demanded that the Children of the High Mountain go to the Southern Continent to retrieve the lost sacred object, or else the barbarian race would bear the consequences of their broken oath.”

Victor rubbed his nose and asked Priest Kent, “What is going on here?”

Priest Kent hesitated for a moment, but finally said, “Based on the Church’s historical documents and Elder Harald’s account, we have pieced together the course of events…”

“About nine thousand years ago, the Pantheon organized an army to invade the no-magic zone—the Arreat Plateau—with the intent of seizing the sacred object that the dwarves had entrusted to the barbarians for safekeeping. The Pantheon’s expeditionary force was almost completely wiped out, but their Legendary Knight defeated Harotus’s barbarian Elder in a duel and won the sacred object. This Legendary Knight presented the sacred object to the Paladin families as a gesture of allegiance to Her Majesty Inoc.”

“We don’t know the significance of the sacred object to the dwarves and barbarians, but we speculate that a dwarven craftsman back then forged a counterfeit and gave it to the barbarians to guard. The real sacred object, or the dwarves’ ‘Source of Power,’ was in the Church’s Treasury. As it turned out, fifteen hundred years ago, the sacred object was stolen by a Wizard… There are signs that it eventually ended up on the Southern Continent. This coincides with the dwarf king’s divination.”

“Neither the Mountain Dwarves nor the barbarians today know the truth of what happened… The Elves probably ran into some trouble, so they sent envoys to demand the Mountain Dwarves honor some ancient pact and hand over the sacred object. Since the dwarf king couldn’t produce it, he had no choice but to lead his people to fight for the Elves.”

Kent paused, glanced at the barbarian Elder, and said somewhat awkwardly, “Well… the Arreat Plateau lacks firewood. The Mountain Dwarves relied on subterranean fire to forge weapons and armor and to grow cave mushrooms. After the dwarves migrated, Grayhollow Satyrs occupied the dwarven tunnels… As you know, barbarians are tall and simply can’t enter the dwarven tunnels. The Satyrs used the terrain and fed on the dwarves’ cave mushrooms, gradually multiplying and expanding. They have already become a threat to the barbarians’ survival.”

“This is the consequence of the barbarians breaking their oath!”

Harald touched the scar on his chest and abdomen. “This is the honor the Grayhollow Satyrs left me with.”

Victor studied the shocking, enormous scar on the barbarian Elder and asked doubtfully, “It looks like a wound from some kind of large monster… how could they fit into the dwarven tunnels?”

Priest Kent explained, “The Grayhollow Satyrs are divided into small, herbivorous Satyrs and giant, carnivorous Satyrs. The herbivorous Satyrs are numerous. When they develop to a certain stage, an omnivorous Satyr Queen and many carnivorous male Satyrs will appear in the group. The Queen and the males reproduce, creating herbivorous Satyr offspring. When the young grow up, they eat a portion of them. The Queen and the carnivorous males grow larger and larger, and birth more and more young Satyrs. The large groups in the tunnels split into smaller ones, expanding out of the caves and producing new Satyr Queens and carnivorous male Satyrs. Those carnivorous male Satyrs are as tall as two point eight meters, even more powerful and mindless than Ogres. They are spreading everywhere, their territory overlapping with the barbarians’ hunting grounds. They even desecrate the graves of barbarian warriors, stealing their funerary weapons and armor, and hunting the reindeer and beasts of the Arreat Plateau.”

Harald interjected, “My people lack prey and weapons. The young of the barbarian race don’t have enough beasts for the newborn ritual. The weak infants die of starvation, unable to withstand the test of the cold wind. Although we have killed countless Satyrs, it’s useless unless we kill the Satyr Queens in the tunnels!”

Priest Kent whispered to Victor, “The flesh of the Grayhollow Satyr is poisonous… Barbarians who eat them become stupider. In just eighty years, the barbarian population has been reduced by half…”

Victor’s expression became exceptionally grave. He was silent for a long time before asking, “Ogres, Goblins, and Gnolls all engage in cannibalism. But they would never resort to eating their own kind unless absolutely necessary… Are the Grayhollow Satyrs truly naturally evolved monsters?”

Harald was silent for a few seconds before speaking again. “The Children of Arreat have guarded the Holy Mountain for generations. Our people hunt around the Great Chasm. Legend says it is an entrance to Hell, and the Grayhollow Satyrs are descendants of hell-spawned demons. Without the barbarians’ protection, the Mountain Dwarves couldn’t handle the Grayhollow Satyrs. Without the Mountain Dwarves, the barbarians cannot protect the great Mount Halotes!”

“I must find the dwarves’ Source of Power!”

Priest Kent said loudly, “Brave Gorsa, please believe that humans can help the barbarian people guard the Holy Mountain! The Grayhollow Satyrs are our common enemy!”

A rare smile appeared on Harald’s rugged face. He brandished his huge battleaxe and said, “Priest, I have already seen the hope that humans have brought to the barbarians, but my ancestors once betrayed their oath. I cannot evade my duty.”

Victor nodded silently. “I will do my utmost to help the barbarians reclaim their honor and dignity. Elder Harald, we will take our leave now.”

After leaving the barbarian camp, Victor was heavy-hearted and said nothing on the way. As they were about to descend the mountain, Priest Kent pulled Victor aside and whispered, “Your Excellency Randell, please do not spread the word about the Grayhollow Satyrs. In fact, the Highnesses of the human kingdom and Sophia know the truth, but we have all sworn an oath never to reveal it. We are preparing to transfer people to the Teutonic Duchy and establish a stable line of defense. If the refugees learn that there are millions of demonic beasts on the Arreat Plateau, ready to descend at any moment, they will just scatter in a panic.”

Victor shook his head and said grimly, “Perhaps… it won’t just be the Grayhollow Satyrs descending.”

“Yes, perhaps the three hundred thousand or so barbarians will descend first,” Priest Kent sighed with emotion.

Victor frowned and couldn’t help but ask, “Has the Church never considered that there might truly be demons from the Abyss below the Great Chasm?”

Priest Kent’s lips tightened. He was silent for a moment, then said with a resolute expression, “By the Supreme Lord, no matter what is in the Arreat Great Chasm, we must unite with the barbarians!”

“Yes… I hereby swear to the supreme Lord of Radiance that I will never spread word of the Grayhollow Satyrs.”

Victor made a triangular gesture over his chest, representing the Radiant Holy Mountain. He raised his head, his gaze burning as he stared at the battle priest, and asked, “Since only the Highnesses of the human kingdom are supposed to know the truth, why did you agree to bring me to see Elder Harald, Your Excellency Kent? What did you discover about me with your divine art of true sight?”

Priest Kent laughed heartily and said mysteriously, “I discovered nothing… If Your Excellency has any questions, you can go and ask Her Highness Sylvia.”

Victor gazed in the direction of Goldwater City, a gentle smile gracing the corners of his mouth as he thought to himself:

“I don’t need to ask. I already know. She won’t allow anyone to interfere with my choices, be they elves or humans.”

Chapter 456: Transcendent Status

Goldwater City, Black Fortress, great hall.

The vassal lords and High-ranked Knights of the Centaur Hills answered Duke York’s summons, gathering here to discuss the issue of settling the refugees.

“Victor’s proposal of a tenant household system is a brilliant idea!”

Enbise York slammed his hand on the long oak table, his round face filled with excitement and admiration as he declared passionately, “The core idea of the tenant system is this: the lord makes the populace wealthy, and a wealthy populace makes the family strong!”

The lords looked at each other, none daring to speak. Their gazes darted back and forth, finally settling on the Earl of Longstone Keep.

Duke York’s uncle, the Great Knight Terlanden, had no choice but to stand. “My lord,” he asked, “what do you mean by ‘the populace is wealthy’? If you mean making the family’s subjects wealthy, I can support that. But if you’re talking about refugees… what does the wealth of refugees have to do with the strength of our family? In fact, even the wealth of our subjects has no direct bearing on their liege lord. A lord can’t just seize his subjects’ wealth without cause, can he?”

“Please, sit, Uncle.” Duke York gestured with his hand and said with a smile, “Find it perplexing? Heh heh, before Victor left for Raven Town, he and I discussed it for a whole morning. At the time, I couldn’t understand his viewpoint either. On what grounds should lowly refugees share our land and wealth? We are not their masters!”

The crowd broke into murmurs, nodding in agreement. But Lady Ulyana spoke up with a charming smile, “As long as it is a governance proposal from Victor, it is worthy of discussion, regardless of whether we understand his intentions.”

The great hall instantly fell silent. Earl Teldrane shot the Countess an appreciative glance. He had no desire to oppose Victor on matters of governance. It was just that as Enbise’s uncle, the family members always saw him as a remonstrator, a check on the Duke’s power.

Enbise nodded and smiled. “The Countess is right. After discussing it with the family scholars for two days, I finally understood Victor’s vision.”

“At present, the three defensive walls to block the Ant-man tide have been completed. According to The Agreement, the Centaur Hills are obligated to accept four hundred thousand refugees from the Kingdom of Gambia within twenty years. However, the Church believes that, given the actual situation in the Centaur Hills, we are fully capable of taking in one million refugees. Regent Williams has sent a letter requesting that we accept sixty thousand refugees from the Northern Commanderies in batches before next year’s Season of Wind. The Church will be responsible for the specifics of the refugee migration.”

“Since we are now part of the Queen’s family in Gambia, we have no reason to refuse the Royal Family’s request.”

Duke York paused before continuing, “I must remind you all that the refugees from the Northern Commanderies are not your typical, scattered refugees. They have lived in fortified villages in the north of the kingdom for over a hundred years. Compared to those rootless bands of refugees, they are more capable, more knowledgeable, more prosperous, more united, and a force unto themselves.”

“The biggest problem before us is how to control these outsiders.”

The refugees from Gambia’s Northern Commanderies were primarily refugees from the Dodor Kingdom. They had lived in Gambia for over a century, and now their lords were suddenly demanding they give up their lands and move to the distant Centaur Hills. It was inevitable that they would harbor resentment. Moreover, if the people of the Kingdom of Gambia could drive them out once, they could do it a second time. This left them feeling even more lost and insecure about their future.

If the Centaur Hills were to accept a few dozen, or even a hundred at a time, it wouldn’t be a major issue. But even if the Church organized the migration in batches, each group would number in the thousands.

Thousands of refugees, sharing the same plight, harboring resentment and inner turmoil, would inevitably watch over and help one another on their journey, banding together for strength. For the priests responsible for the migration, an organized group of refugees was easier to work with. But for the lords of the Centaur Hills, a group of thousands of refugees represented a significant hidden danger.

Before one wave of refugees could be settled, the next would arrive. The trouble would snowball, growing larger and larger until it became completely unmanageable.

The High-ranked Knights were silent in contemplation, while the minor lords looked even more worried. Duke York scanned the room, speaking with complete confidence, “Victor believes that population is the most valuable asset for the Centaur Hills, and the higher the quality and capability of the refugees, the better. The key is how to turn these people into our assets. The tenant system Victor proposed perfectly solves this problem.”

“What do the refugees from the Northern Commanderies desire most right now? A stable life, a home they won’t be driven from again—in essence, the legal status of a subject.”

Enbise reached out, picked up a sheet of hide paper from the table, and waved it. “This tenancy contract fulfills their desire. Once they have this document, they gain the status of a tenant household. Tenants are not refugees; their tenancy contracts are issued by a liege lord and are legally binding. Tenants are also not registered subjects. The tenancy contract is renewed every twenty-five years, and the tenant family has priority in renewing it. If a tenant fails to pay rent on time, is lazy and ignorant, or violates the family’s laws, the liege lord has the right to terminate the lease. Other than that, there is no difference between a tenant family and a subject’s family. They keep a thirty-percent share of the harvest and perform four months of labor or militia training each year. With a tenancy contract, the refugees will see their families as subjects. What could be more attractive to them than this?”

“The most brilliant part is that tenancy contracts are only issued to monogamous refugee families. Refugee leaders usually have many women, so they are destined not to become tenants. Those bachelors without wives will only serve to undermine them. The refugee gangs will thus disintegrate, and our problem will naturally be solved.”

“Excellent!”

Earl Teldrane exclaimed in admiration, “The children of tenants will be eligible to join the mercenary companies, and tenants who want to renew their leases will inevitably work hard. Our subjects will have more time to forge armaments to meet the needs of the mercenary legions, which is beneficial to the southern expansion strategy. Victor’s tenant system turns refugees into our assets!”

Since they were discussing Victor’s proposal, it was certain that the tenant system had Sylvia’s approval. Ever since Sylvia had dealt with him (for opposing the merchant association of shares and having his youngest son taken away), Earl Teldrane had been very reluctant to act as the Duke’s remonstrator again. Sylvia had brought a little Auguste back from Aerie Fortress, and Earl Teldrane and his wife were still thinking of claiming the child as their own. In any case, the children that Edward and Anna would have in the future were to be returned to Fredrick and Audel. The task of checking the Duke’s power should be left to the parents of the future queen.

Besides, Victor’s tenant system was truly impressive.

No matter how good a policy was, as long as the Duke was pushing it on his vassal lords, someone had to stand up and question it. This was the system by which great families maintained stability. All eyes focused on Viscount Fredrick. With a helpless air, Fredrick stood up and said, “The tenant system satisfies the refugees, the subjects, and the Church, but it harms the interests of the lords. In order to settle the refugees, we’ll lose a thirty-percent share of our harvest for no reason, and this will happen year after year. Of course, I can afford it, but what about the family’s new lords? They are particularly short of funds…”

Several newly invested vassal barons nodded frequently, only to hear Fredrick continue, “A thirty-percent share of the harvest for the tenants is too much… a fifteen-percent share is enough.” Seeing the dark expressions on the faces of those few barons, Fredrick added, “We are helping the kingdom’s lords settle their refugees, so they should be paying us. I propose that the family provide funds to subsidize the new lords.”

Enbise shot to his feet, straining to widen his narrow eyes as he glared at his younger brother and demanded loudly, “Subsidies? Are you going to ask for them, or am I? Are you paying for it, or am I?”

Fredrick shrugged, spread his hands, and sat back down with an innocent expression, as if to say: You all saw it. It’s not that I didn’t object, it’s that His Grace the Duke won’t agree to subsidize everyone.

Several gazes landed sharply on Enbise’s plump face. His cheeks trembled, and he said with a pained expression, “You are all so shallow… What did Victor say? A rich populace makes for a strong family. A suitable population is the most precious asset… Why must you see the tenants as separate from your own wealth? Why can’t you see the tenants as your wealth?”

Great Knight Bruce interjected, “My lord, I believe in Victor’s talent and foresight, but I’m still not clear on the relationship between a wealthy populace and a strong family. We’ve always believed that a wealthy and powerful family… Please, explain to us what ‘a rich populace makes for a strong family’ means.”

Enbise patted his portly belly, and an attendant immediately presented him with a glass of fresh goat’s milk with honey and a napkin. Enbise raised the glass, drained the milk, and wiped his mouth with the napkin before speaking in a measured tone, “Poor devils of refugees, with no fixed abode, lacking food and clothing—their children are malnourished and frail. Prosperous tenants, living and working in peace, with no worries about food or clothing—their children will naturally be stronger and smarter than the children of refugees. A skinny refugee worker can cultivate fifteen mu of land; a strong tenant farmer can cultivate thirty mu. Eight skinny workers can cultivate one hundred and twenty mu. With eight strong tenants, four can cultivate one hundred and twenty mu, and the other four can work as laborers, learn a trade, or become mercenaries. Therefore, the poorer, the weaker; the richer, the stronger.”

“Should we be accepting poor and weak refugee workers, or should we be cultivating prosperous and strong tenants?”

“The children of tenants, between the ages of four and eight, can board for free at the school for general education. This age is crucial for a child’s future growth and development. We will instill in them the family values of loyalty and courage while they build their bodies, temper their wills, and practice the first level of the Gray Wolf Combat Technique’s secret art, cultivating a source of qualified soldiers for the mercenary legions in advance.”

“When tenant parents see hope for their family in their children, they will naturally be willing to use their savings to send heir children to military schools and artisan schools to study. When their children come of age, we will have elite mercenary soldiers, skilled craftsmen, and robust farmers. Has the family not grown stronger?”

This line of reasoning ignited the enthusiasm of the vassal lords. A buzz of conversation filled the hall.

“So that’s how it is… A rich populace truly does make for a strong family.”

“As expected of the partner chosen by Her Highness Sylvia… Viscount Randall’s talent leaves me speechless.”

“In my opinion, Viscount Randall’s wisdom is comparable to that of the great scholar Arya…”

The hall was in an uproar. Duke York had to slam his hand on the table and raise his voice. “All of you, quiet down! Let me finish, then you can discuss.”

The crowd fell silent, and Enbise continued, “The brilliance of the tenant system isn’t limited to cultivating soldiers and craftsmen. It is a governance plan that Victor tailored for the Centaur Hills. Other families cannot imitate this system.”

“In the past, a York family village controlled a territory of a twenty-kilometer radius, capable of supporting three thousand to ten thousand subjects. The liege lord was responsible for ensuring the livelihood of his subjects. Therefore, the larger the population of a village, the less tribute was paid to the lord. But in the Centaur Hills, three hundred square kilometers of land can support ten thousand to twenty thousand people, or even more. The Centaur Hills currently does not lack land; it lacks warriors, farmers, miners, and craftsmen. If the Centaur Hills has enough tenants, our subjects can lead those tenants to open up wastelands and build new villages. In this way, the lord’s total wealth will actually increase.”

“On the other hand, although the tenants are attached to the villages, they are assigned by us. The tenants and the villagers belong to two different groups. The small tenant families do not have the ability to confront the Village office; they are destined to rely on the liege lord. The tenants will act as the lord’s eyes and ears, creating a system of mutual supervision and checks and balances with the villages. The lord’s influence will be further expanded. At the very least, the Village head will no longer be able to underreport the territory’s total income.”

As he spoke, Duke York shook his head and chuckled. “In the past, the territory’s natural resources were limited, so when villagers gathered resources from the domain, everyone just turned a blind eye… Now, half of the hills are terraced fields. The territory’s harvest is no small sum. Otherwise, why would the Church change its method of collecting the tithe? We can’t be like the Regent and post a tax collector in every village, can we?”

The vassal lords couldn’t help but chuckle. A thorny problem had been solved just like that.

Duke York tapped the table with his plump, white fingers and continued, “As for the share of the harvest given to the tenants, you all need not worry. Tenants are not refugees; they cannot move about freely, or else they will lose their right to lease land. The lord makes the rules, and the people obey the rules. We have too many ways to control the tenants’ income. For example, monopolizing trade channels and manipulating prices. You all must adhere to one principle: the produce and goods of the populace can only be sold to the liege lord, and the liege lord’s goods can only be sold to the Two-headed Lizard Merchant Guild.”

The High-ranked Knight lords who held shares in the Two-headed Lizard Merchant Guild showed no change in expression, but the minor vassal lords without shares looked a bit uneasy. They had no way to defy the will of the family, however. The Two-headed Lizard Merchant Guild controlled numerous resources and had, in effect, already monopolized the external trade of the Centaur Hills.

Duke York felt a bit of a headache. When Victor had first proposed the merchant association of shares, he had already set up a scheme that surpassed his imagination. Victor and Sylvia were now preparing to connect the Two-headed Lizard Merchant Guild with The Golden Company, a matter that also involved the secret of the Gold Restoration Potion. These things couldn’t be disclosed to all the vassal lords for the time being. But as the Duke of the York family, Enbise had a responsibility to soothe the feelings of his family members. He pondered for a moment before saying:

“I guarantee everyone present that whether you are purchasing supplies or selling goods, the Two-headed Lizard Merchant Guild will offer the most reasonable prices. At the same time, the Guild will provide low-interest loans to family members who do not hold shares. The loan amount will be equivalent to three times the annual income of your territory. You may take a loan once every three years, with a repayment period of no more than five years.”

The expressions of the new lords immediately brightened. Enbise nodded and asked, “Does anyone else have any objections to the family implementing the tenant system?”

Everyone shook their heads, expressing their agreement to implement the tenant system. Enbise nodded and said, “Then, everyone may return for now. Send your family scholars here to jointly formulate the specific details of the tenant system. I will then provide the implementation plan to Bishop Pello and ask the Church to cooperate with us in assigning the tenants.”

The lords rose, bowed to Duke York, and left the great hall one after another.

Enbise sat alone for a while, then shook his head and said to Max, his Scribe, who was standing beside him, “You see? The water project, the green brick trade, the Two-headed Lizard Merchant Guild, the mercenary army, The Golden Company, the tenant system… as long as it’s Victor’s proposal, it always passes smoothly. When I merely asked the lords to implement centralized procurement and purchasing, almost no one supported me…”

Max took a step forward and bowed. “Viscount Randall is brilliantly talented, but the main reason everyone supports his proposals is because the Viscount’s status is transcendent. If he were in your position, he would still be met with the same doubt and resistance from the lords. However, all of Viscount Randall’s governance measures are particularly advantageous to you… The influence of the Black Fortress has unwittingly spread to every corner of the family.”

“Max, you’re right.” Enbise struggled to his feet from his chair and laughed heartily, clapping the Scribe on the shoulder. “Victor does it all for Lady Sylvia… My Lady is the real backer of the Black Fortress.”

“Send someone to report the results of the meeting to Rose Manor.”

Rose Manor, crystal conservatory.

Sylvia took the minutes of the Black Fortress meeting from the old steward’s hands. After the old steward had left the conservatory, she turned to Trisley and said with a charming smile, “My dear, take a guess. What was the outcome of the discussion?”

“The tenant system was proposed by Victor. What is there to guess? It must have passed…” Trisley said lazily, sitting in a rattan chair by the round table and propping her chin on her hand.

Sylvia walked gracefully over to Trisley’s side, sat down, and teased, “So much faith in Victor? Could it be that love has robbed my Protection Knight of her ability to think… Let me see, has it gotten any bigger here?”

Trisley slapped away the delicate hand Sylvia was extending toward her chest and snapped, “What are you doing?”

“It’s not like I haven’t touched them before. Now that you have a lover, you’ve forgotten all about me. It’s truly heartbreaking.” Sylvia pouted her red lips, feigning a look of hurt and grievance, then couldn’t help but break into a giggle.

Trisley’s face flushed red. She bit her pink lip and turned her head away unnaturally. Sylvia gathered her shawled hair and chuckled. “You’ve only seen Victor’s stunningly brilliant side. The truth is, he has his foolish and adorable moments too.”

Trisley turned her head, looked into Sylvia’s azure eyes, and asked in surprise, “Are you talking about the Bear Company that Victor formed? But I think the Bear Company is very valuable.”

Sylvia reached out a slender, beautiful index finger and tapped Trisley’s forehead. “This is why I say you’ve been swept off your feet by love, trying to defend your beloved at every turn… Sophia wouldn’t think so. She would use the Bear Company first, and then abandon it. Otherwise, her enterprise could never succeed. When Victor formed The Golden Company, he didn’t think it through at all… No lord with any real power can control a commercial organization with such enormous potential. As long as he is my man, he can forget about leading The Golden Company, let alone possessing the armed force of the Bear Company.”

“Once the connection between the Bear Company and Victor is exposed, it will surely be hunted down and destroyed by a coalition of lords.”

Trisley suddenly recalled how, after the High-ranked Knights of House DeWeimik confirmed her identity, their faces had all turned exceptionally sour. If the Bear Company could bring her to DeWeimik’s territory, it could cooperate with Sylvia to attack any lord. Not even a Gold Knight could guarantee his own safety.

A Bear Company like that was simply too terrifying!

No one could tolerate Sylvia extending her reach into their own territory. If the Bear Company was not destroyed, no lord would ever cooperate with The Golden Company.

“You understand now? Sophia is the only suitable person to be in charge of The Golden Company. All we have to do is collect dividends based on our shares.” Sylvia shook her head and sighed. “Fortunately, that fellow handed The Golden Company over to Sophia. Otherwise, it would have brought huge trouble for him and for me… trouble more vexing than him shooting Austin Briart.”

Trisley thought for a moment, her eyes lighting up as she asked nonchalantly, “So, does this mean Sophia and Victor’s relationship can’t be good anymore?”

“Mm, the stronger The Golden Company becomes, the colder their relationship will be… unless Sophia advances to Gold rank, or Victor becomes a Sun Elf. Then they’ll be as inseparable as ever.”

The corners of Trisley’s mouth, which had been secretly turned up, immediately drooped, and her pale blue eyes dimmed a little. Sylvia let out a soft laugh and put a hand on Trisley’s shoulder. “You’ve let it slip, haven’t you? Nicole learned all her jealousy from you.”

Trisley shot Sylvia a sideways glance, pouted, and propped her chin up again, murmuring, “I wonder where that fellow is now?”

Sylvia rose gracefully and said with a serious expression, “Protection Knight Trisley, I order you to go and bring my lover back to Rose Manor.”

Trisley gave a slight curtsy, a sweet smile appearing on her exquisitely beautiful face.

“As you wish, my noble and beautiful Master.”

Chapter 457: A Sense of Urgency

Five days later, in the afternoon.

Twenty Swiftbird light cavalrymen surrounded a luxurious carriage emblazoned with the Silver moon sigil as it arrived at the main gate of Rose Manor. A manor guard on the wall dispatched someone to inform the steward while opening the refined iron gate. They watched as the handsome Viscount Randell stepped out of the carriage and walked into the manor, looking thoroughly perked up. Just as the guards were about to close the gate, a slender, graceful figure emerged from the carriage.

She wore a white Spider silk long dress, her hair was a fair gold, and her eyes were light blue. Her features were exquisite, and she possessed a noble yet aloof air. She was none other than Lady Sylvia’s trusted confidante—Trisley York, the Raging Wave Knight.

The guards stood at attention with their hands at their sides, respectfully clearing a path. Trisley followed behind Viscount Randell, maintaining a distance of three meters, her expression as cold as ever. But the manor guards felt that the family’s Raging Wave Knight was a little different today.

She seemed much taller… and listening closely, they realized Lady Trisley was wearing high heels.

The manor guards remembered that Lady Trisley rarely wore dresses and never wore high heels.

Victor stopped in the empty corridor, and the clacking sound behind him came to an abrupt halt. He turned to face Trisley, who was three meters away, and said, “Darling, you don’t have to keep your distance from me… We’ve shared a carriage for five whole days. Everyone who should know, knows. See, the old steward didn’t even dare to come out and welcome us…”

“Shut up and keep walking… And don’t call me ‘Darling’ in Rose Manor.”

Trisley chided in a delicate voice, a charming blush appearing on her fair, youthful face.

When High-ranked Knights begin to enjoy worldly emotions, they reveal a more vibrant side to their personality. Trisley had the personality of a proud yet shy young woman. When they were alone, she loved to cling to Victor, but when others were around, she was terrified of anyone discovering their intimate relationship.

In truth, this side of Trisley’s personality was especially cute; Sylvia loved to tease her. Victor was now beginning to appreciate Sylvia’s amusement. In fact, it was only by winning over Trisley that Victor could be said to have fully entered Sylvia’s life.

“Alright, whatever makes you happy.” Victor shrugged, feigning disappointment, then asked with an expectant look, “What about when no one’s around?”

“You… you’ve already been calling me that,” Trisley said in a tiny voice, her gaze lowered.

“What about when we’re with Sylvia?”

The mischievous grin on Victor’s face was still as handsome and charming as ever. Trisley stomped her foot, puffed out her cheeks, and turned to leave. “You… you rogue… Go see Sylvia by yourself. I’m not going with you!”

Seeing that Trisley seemed genuinely angry, Victor silently regretted his words. Just as he was about to go after her, the old steward emerged from the shadows, bowed, and said, “My lord, My Lady is waiting for you.”

Victor sighed. He had no choice but to follow the old steward to see Sylvia first.

Upon reaching the manor’s master bedroom, the old steward bowed and took his leave. Victor pushed the door open and entered alone.

“My dear, you certainly took your time coming back.”

The bedroom was as warm as spring, with Oilwood fires lit in both small fireplaces. Sylvia, dressed in a thin silk nightgown, was leaning back against a Manticore-hide sofa. She looked up at her lover at the door, her lustrous golden hair cascading over her shoulders. Her gaze was as gentle as water, and a smile played on her red lips, a mix of feigned annoyance and delight. Her graceful body was faintly visible beneath the nightgown, and her long, straight legs were propped up on a round stool, revealing a pair of smooth, jade-like calves and snow-white, delicate feet—an utterly alluring sight.

A jade-like beauty, her presence perfuming the entire chamber.

Victor’s heart warmed at the sight. He took off his boots and coat, walked over to Sylvia’s side, and sat down. “The snow is melting outside, and the roads are muddy. The carriage was actually slower than it was a while ago.”

The weather is coldest in early spring when the snow melts. Extraordinary Knights, especially those with an affinity for the water element, didn’t mind this level of cold. Sylvia had lit the fireplaces in her bedroom entirely for Victor’s sake. This made him feel a wife’s care and warmth.

Sylvia curled up her legs and nestled into Victor’s arms, pouting playfully. “So, you and my Protection Knight spent the whole time in the carriage?”

“Yes.” Victor nodded with great honesty, unable to resist asking, “You’re not jealous of Trisley, are you?”

Sylvia giggled and pushed Victor down, her breath as fragrant as an orchid as she said, “I’m jealous of you both… If you please me now, I’ll help you tease her. Otherwise, I’ll help her bully you.”

After a long, passionate kiss, Sylvia finally let go of her little man. She gracefully straightened her messy hair and smoothed her skirt, once again covering her fair, rounded thighs, before asking, “You’ve met with Elder Harald?”

“Yes.”

Victor nodded and explained the entire matter to Sylvia in detail.

After listening, Sylvia shook her head and sighed. “Over three hundred barbarians, and only twenty-one newborns in two years… The barbarians’ fertility is even lower than that of Knights.”

The more powerful a creature, the more difficult its reproduction. However, a race’s ability to procreate is also closely tied to its living environment. The living conditions in the human kingdoms were far superior to those on the Arreat Plateau, yet the barbarians’ fertility rate had not improved at all. This indicated that the barbarians’ racial traits had completely solidified. In fact, they were more likely to go extinct in a bountiful region, as they would face far more competitors.

The Great Elder of the barbarians had sent Harald to lead the elite warriors of various tribes away from the Arreat Plateau to the vast Southern Continent in search of a sacred object lost for ten thousand years.

This was a nearly impossible task.

The Great Elder’s purpose in doing this was twofold: first, to persuade the tradition-bound barbarians to try forging an alliance with humans; second, he hoped Harald could lead the young warriors away to ensure the continuation of the barbarian race.

Harotus, the current Great Elder, was undoubtedly a wise man among the barbarians, but he had not anticipated that with their low birth rate, even if Harald and his three hundred-plus elite barbarians successfully crossed the river, they would be unable to put down roots and flourish on the Southern Continent.

Behind all this, however, was a crisis no one could ignore—millions of Grayhollow Satyrs.

Victor was now certain that the Ant-men were a mutated form of ancient alchemical creatures, as the water element concentration in the Ant-man chief had reached the level of a natural creature. And it was highly likely that the Grayhollow Satyrs were connected to the mysterious race that had invaded the Alchemical Empire. Of course, Victor couldn’t prove it; this was a conclusion reached through logical deduction and personal conviction based on the available information.

Ancient Alchemists had used void Alchemy to defeat the invaders, but there was no information to suggest the invaders were completely wiped out. Since Victor could reactivate the Alchemy Tower, it stood to reason that the equally powerful mysterious invaders wouldn’t have just perished.

The Will Side of the Alchemical humans lacked specific information about humans, elves, and barbarians. This implied that these two races were on friendly terms with humans during the era of the Alchemical Empire, which was why the Alchemical militia had not listed them as targets for hunting or vigilance. During the Era of the Chosen, the fact that human Knights formed marriage alliances with Moon Elves and northern barbarians also confirmed the friendly relations between the three races.

When ancient humans faced a powerful invading enemy, the Elves and barbarians, as allies, could not have stood idly by. In other words, the mysterious invaders were a common enemy to all three races. They had formed an alliance under the pressure of this external threat. Victor even suspected that after the fall of the Alchemical Empire, it was the Elves and the northern barbarians who helped the human Mages stabilize the situation.

Then the Chosen suddenly went mad, inciting the Blood Sacrifice civil war, which led to the Elves’ distant retreat and the northern barbarians’ extinction, causing the alliance of the three races to crumble. Victor would never believe the mysterious invaders hadn’t had a hand in it. Assuming they were indeed involved, they were clearly preparing in advance for another invasion of the human world.

In just a few decades, the Elves had summoned over two million Forest Centaurs, more than two hundred thousand Halflings, and over a million Mountain Dwarves. They had thus formed a military bloc composed of archers, cavalry, scouts, craftsmen, infantry, miners, blacksmiths, and stonemasons.

Who was the hypothetical enemy of this powerful force?

Humans? If the Elves wanted to go to war with humanity, they could have done so thousands of years ago; they wouldn’t have waited until now. Therefore, the Elves’ enemy was self-evident: the ancient invaders. And it was very likely the same subterranean race that both the barbarians and the Mountain Dwarves were guarding against.

The Arreat Plateau had the Great Chasm; it was not impossible for the Endless Forest to have a similar underground passage.

Assuming the Elves were already engaged with the invaders in the depths of the Endless Forest, the Elves alone would most likely be unable to hold back the subterranean invaders. Yet, the Elves had not requested an alliance with the human kingdoms.

The implication sent a deep chill down Victor’s spine.

The Elves held a blood feud with humanity, but in the face of their race’s survival, what was a ten-thousand-year-old grudge? The Elves were clearly confident in their ability to defend the Endless Forest, so what about the Great Chasm on the Arreat Plateau?

All signs pointed to the human world facing a great cataclysm. The Elves were preparing for a rainy day, moving their vassal races to the Endless Forest, accumulating strength while they sat back and watched as the humans and the subterranean invaders wore each other out.

Of course, humanity wasn’t helpless; otherwise, why would the Elves feel they could stay out of it? Humanity’s greatest trump card was undoubtedly the Lord of Radiance, who had changed the Laws of the world and expelled the evil gods.

Victor believed the Lord of Radiance was the ultimate weapon created by the ancient Alchemists and the Mages’ Association. Compared to the Alchemy Tower, a void creation, the Lord of Radiance, which could convert the power of faith into extraordinary holy power, was clearly more advanced. Although humanity had suffered repeated defeats against the beastmen armies, that was only because the first Pope had failed to use the Lord of Radiance correctly.

What would happen if humanity was exterminated by the mysterious invaders?

There were two possibilities. First, the Lord of Radiance would fall silent or perish. Second, considering the world Law that allowed Spirit Knights to ignore the limits of time and space and their opponent’s strength to mobilize the Elemental Sea and annihilate enemies, the Lord of Radiance would most likely scour the land with its power.

This was likely the reason the Elves dared to watch the tigers fight from a mountaintop. The ultimate move left behind by the ancient Alchemists was simply too terrifying; it completely broke the balance between the three intelligent races. No wonder the Elves were no longer willing to ally with humanity.

If this line of reasoning from X-3 could be established, then the great cataclysm would not happen immediately. This strategic plan of the Elves concerned the survival of their race and required a buffer period to accumulate even greater strength. And for the Elves, this buffer period would be measured in centuries at least.

For Victor, this was good news.

Ever since Victor’s transmigration, it was as if an invisible force had been pushing him to prepare for this cataclysm. The death of the little Baron, the reactivation of the Alchemy Tower, the Ant-man tide sweeping his territory, falling in love with a Spirit Knight, the silent protection of the God-favored Miller, the barbarians’ journey south… After experiencing this series of events, if he still hadn’t had The Awakening, he would be a natural-born idiot. Especially after Victor learned that his soul was bound to the Alchemy Tower, the thought of “There is no escape, only the fight” had taken root in his mind.

Fortunately, the Lord of Radiance had changed the Laws of the world, which must have weakened the extraordinary power of the mysterious invaders. The humans of today might not be without a chance to defeat this powerful enemy. There was no shortage of wise people among humanity; many could foresee the dangers Victor saw. Everyone desperately needed this buffer period to actively promote New Agro-husbandry, increase the population, train armies, and open up greater strategic depth, preparing for a protracted war against an unknown opponent.

Victor wrapped his arms around Sylvia’s lithe body and said in a heavy voice, “My dear, Trisley and I talked about the Bear Company and the issue of the Grand Legion Strategy… I admit, her points were very reasonable. So…”

Sylvia did not know why her lover’s sense of urgency was so strong, but her Spirit Knight’s intuition told her that Victor’s appearance by her side, much like the union of the Sword Saint Draven and Veronica, had a wondrous connection with the diffuse will of the origin of the world.

No matter what changes the future might bring, the Victor before her now was someone Sylvia was exceptionally fond of, so much so that she wanted nothing more than to ravish him. She kissed her lover’s cheek and smiled beguilingly. “So… what is it that you want?”

Victor turned his face, savoring the lovely red lips so close to his own, until Sylvia was panting softly. He said, “I want the cleansing potions from Aerie Fortress to cultivate the House of Randell’s secret knights.”

“Done.” Sylvia nodded, leaning against her lover’s shoulder and saying languidly, “If the tenant system succeeds, the problems of troop sources and logistics for the Grand Legion Strategy will be solved. You once told me that forming the Bear Company was to perfect the tactics of the Grand Legion… Why don’t we talk about the Grand Legion’s structure and combat methods now?”

Chapter 458: Eclectic and Inclusive

Victor smiled. “I’m cultivating the House of Randell’s secret knights precisely because I took Trisley’s advice.”

The Grand Legion Strategy was a military concept proposed and implemented by Victor, intended to counter the opponents of the ancient Alchemists. It involved reforms in many fields, including politics, economics, military affairs, logistics, equipment technology, and infrastructure. But ultimately, it had to be reflected in the innovation of concrete tactics and methods of warfare.

Through Victor’s clever design, the Grand Legion Strategy first gained the support of Sylvia and Clement. With the backing of a Spirit Knight and the Pontiff, the knightly lords of the Centaur Hills and the Kingdom of Naville broadly accepted the concept of “winning through attrition with a Grand Legion.”

However, Victor’s attempt to copy the military systems and battle formations of Earth’s pre-gunpowder era was met with skepticism from the vast majority of knightly lords.

Among them, the opposition from Duke York and Lady Katerina was the most strident.

For the York family to develop their territories on the Southern Continent, they first had to ensure there were no threats to their rear in the Centaur Hills. The three walls blocking the Ant-men required a garrison of at least twelve thousand soldiers, and the reserve forces in the Centaur Hills could not be less than twenty thousand. The lords of the York family would have to fully implement Victor’s Grand Legion Strategy to meet the needs of both an expansionary front and a defensive one.

However, if all the lords in the Centaur Hills adopted the House of Randell’s five-thousand-man mercenary legion structure, Duke York and Katerina would have to recruit even more mercenary soldiers just to maintain their military superiority as liege lords. The York family would be mired in an internal arms race. It was possible that Goldwater City’s finances would collapse before they even began their expansion into the Southern Continent.

Katerina could not openly state that the mercenary legion structure advocated by Victor would bankrupt the ducal line. Instead, she elaborated on the various flaws of the Randell mercenary legion from a military perspective. This included the slow movement of a five-thousand-man legion; its inability to leverage the core strengths of Knights and clergy; its extremely low combat effectiveness and mobility; and its particular susceptibility to collapse when facing a strong enemy, among other things.

Victor admitted that Katerina’s points were correct. A five-thousand-man mercenary legion had to be arranged in a tight formation to ensure operational order and smooth command; otherwise, it was just a rabble. Moreover, a priest’s divine arts could not possibly cover five thousand men at once, and Knights would find it difficult to exert their own strength within such a formation. If the formation collapsed, the Knights and priests would be utterly unable to control the fleeing soldiers.

The soldiers in the formation were mere mortals; of course they would break. If an army never routed, what would be the point of battle formations? In fact, since ancient times, nearly every battle in Earth’s history had ended with one side routing.

But Victor’s ideal Grand Legion numbered over a hundred thousand troops. Without legions of five thousand men, what commander could possibly command so many people?

Katerina had discussed the issue of legion composition with Victor many times. She hoped the House of Randell would divide its three thousand eight hundred mercenaries into eight smaller legions, each with a full strength of five hundred men. Only then could the mercenary legions accommodate the extraordinary power of Knights and battle priests.

Victor remained firm. Sylvia, for her part, also remained silent on the matter.

She wanted to see what other brilliant methods her beloved had up his sleeve, but Victor was already starting to waver.

Katerina had posed two questions to Victor: Why did a mercenary legion need to be composed of five thousand men? Could a mercenary legion not be formed with just five hundred?

Victor was stunned for a long moment before he realized he had made a cognitive error.

On the internet of his world, Earth, the Macedonian phalanx was hyped up to be a force of mythical proportions, yet the Macedonian phalanx had been defeated by the legions of the Roman Empire. Victor had taken it for granted that the Roman phalanx was superior, and the composition of the Randell family’s mercenary legion was a reference to the Roman legionary structure.

But what invincible battle formation or tactic could there be in this world? If one existed, how could it have ever been replaced?

It was hard to imagine that an infantry phalanx from before the common era could have endured unchanged through the ages, sweeping across all creation.

It was logically inconsistent, and the facts of history bore witness to the constant淘汰 and improvement of battle formations and tactics.

Macedonian soldiers had defeated the numerically superior armies of the Persian Empire in frontal assaults, yet the legions of the Roman Empire used the new tactic of javelins and short swords to shatter the Macedonian phalanx.

By the third century, the Germanic “barbarian” tribes, pressured by the Huns, began migrating into the territory of the Roman Empire. To deal with this threat, the Roman Emperor Diocletian implemented military reforms, shrinking the six-thousand-man Roman legions down to one thousand men.

In the fourth century, Attila, King of the Huns, beat the Roman Empire into submission. Even after the “Scourge of God” suffered a crushing defeat at the Battle of Châlons, the Huns still used their wagon laagers—a tactic they had learned from the armies of the Han dynasty—to block the Roman coalition’s attack.

In the early eighth century, after Spain fell, the Frankish Grand Vizier, Charles Martel, abandoned infantry phalanx tactics, formed armored cavalry, and defeated the invaders. From the ninth to the tenth century, Viking raiders and Hungarian cavalry swept across Europe one after another. In the face of these elusive enemies, the infantry of the Western European kingdoms were useless, but armored cavalry shone brilliantly. The castles and knights of medieval Europe arose from this period.

The invincible orders of iron-clad knights defeated the Viking Berserkers and Hungarian cavalry, only to encounter the Mongol horse archers. Then came the English longbowmen… The once-resplendent tactics of the Roman legions had long been buried in the dust of history.

War is not constant in its conditions, just as water has no constant shape. One who can achieve victory by adapting to the enemy is a master of the art.

Blindly imitating the warfare methods of Earth’s pre-gunpowder era was simply not feasible.

In comparison, the tactics and strategies that combined Knights, clergy, and human soldiers were far more suited to the actual conditions of this other world.

A knight squad consisted of one Knight, four apprentice knights, and twenty to thirty Elite Soldiers. A knight squad, in coordination with three battle priests and fifteen Sacred Warriors, could lead one hundred and forty vassal soldiers to form a knight battalion. Three knight battalions formed a standard legion of about five hundred men.

This was the largest military unit in the human kingdoms. Any larger, and chaos would inevitably arise, reducing the combat effectiveness of the standard legion.

In fierce battles, several, or even dozens, of standard legions would coordinate and fight together. As long as the knightly liege and battle priests remained, the loyal and courageous vassal soldiers would not break. If the knightly liege fell in battle, the battle priests would lead the soldiers of the knight battalion to continue fighting. When all the Knights and priests of a standard legion were killed, the soldiers had to try to disengage, regroup in the rear, and, with a conviction to avenge their liege, join other battered standard legions and fight on.

What would be the consequence of a five-thousand-man legion retreating in the middle of a battle? Wouldn’t the soldiers who hadn’t been blessed by a priest’s divine arts be terrified? How could an army fight when a Grand Legion was split into two groups of heroic soldiers and timid soldiers?

Most critically, even if the mercenary legion had enough battle priests, those priests were not Victor’s subordinates. How could they allow an enforcement squad to use bloody methods to suppress fleeing mercenary soldiers?

Trisley had told Victor that the casualties in the Stonetooth City large-scale brawl were mostly due to trampling. Victor finally made up his mind to cultivate his own secret knights.

“I’m preparing to reduce the size of the mercenary legions.”

Sylvia blinked her enchanting blue eyes, a faint, teasing smile on her lips as she asked, “My dear, are you planning to give up?”

A thought struck Victor, and he asked, “My dear, what are your thoughts?”

Sylvia lifted a slender hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and said lightly, “Traditional tactics and strategies won’t help me gain an advantage on the Southern Continent.”

Auguste had tens of thousands of vassal soldiers, while the York family’s overall strength among the great lords of Gambis was second only to House Sorim. If the Centaur Hills used traditional methods of warfare to expand into the Southern Continent, they would not only be at a disadvantage against Auguste’s royal family but even against the Wellington family.

Sylvia said softly, “In my view, a Grand Legion should be able to accommodate more tactics and strategies. For example, the wagon laager you designed is excellent… My dear, standard knight legions are indispensable, but the new tactics of the mercenary legions cannot be abandoned either. An eclectic and inclusive approach is the future of the Grand Legion.”

Victor broke into a relaxed smile. He wrapped his arms around Sylvia’s soft, fragrant body and said with renewed enthusiasm, “My dear, we’re thinking the same thing.”

The professional mercenary legions were the York family’s trump card for surpassing the other great families, but in Victor’s eyes, these rapidly formed and constantly replenished legions represented humanity’s hope of defeating the mysterious invaders.

The main reason for the low combat effectiveness of the mercenary legions was the limited number of Knights and priests.

However, with the promotion and perfection of the new agropastoral system, the number of believers and clergy would grow in tandem. Meanwhile, the cleansing potions and Gold Restoration Potions would significantly increase the number and capabilities of apprentice knights.

Victor’s readjustment of the mercenary legion’s combat structure was not a complete negation of the Grand Legion’s mode of operation, but a necessary supplement to its tactics.

The individual combat strength of the Alchemical militia was close to that of a senior apprentice knight, but their ability to make decisions on the fly was too poor for them to lead an army. Victor planned to adopt one hundred children from destitute noble families and use cleansing potions, Gold Potions, and body-sculpting secret arts to cultivate a batch of death commandos for his family. If even half of them could awaken their Aura and become senior apprentice knights, the House of Randell would possess fifty commanders comparable to initial-rank Knights. Combined with the Alchemical militia and Alchemical auxiliary soldiers, Victor could form twenty elite ranger corps.

“I plan to draw from the War Bear Mercenaries to establish a Staff Department to oversee all affairs of the Randall Legion. Within twenty years, I will build a Grand Legion of thirty thousand, including twenty ranger corps, each with three hundred men, for a total of six thousand elite rangers.”

“In addition to the elite rangers, there will be infantry corps, chariot corps, archer corps, armored cavalry corps, and supply corps, and so on…”

Victor laid out his military reform plans in detail. After listening, Sylvia frowned and said, “The Staff Department will have immense authority. Your War Bear Mercenaries are commoners. Will the House of Randell’s secret knights obey their orders?”

Victor said seriously, “A Grand Legion has a strict hierarchy. Orders must be carried out without fail, and those who disobey will be executed. Otherwise, those mercenary armies will be a disorderly mob, routing at the first sign of battle. The trampling alone could cause the legions to suffer more than fifty percent casualties… Besides, the Staff Department is only responsible for providing advice to the commander. The orders are issued by the commander personally.”

Sylvia’s eyes lit up, and she pressed, “And you are the commander of the Randall Legion?”

“I am certainly the supreme commander of the House of Randell.”

Victor said with a smile, “But under me, there might be field commanders… For example, if the House of Randell had five grand battalions, how could I possibly control them all by myself?”

“My dear, you’re actually facing the same problem right now. You are undoubtedly the supreme military commander of the Centaur Hills. If the vassal lords of the York family each have a large contingent, they are your field commanders. Of course, you can’t issue specific tactical instructions to your field commanders, only clear combat objectives. For instance, requiring Earl Teldrane to capture high ground and build defensive fortifications within ten days.”

“To put it simply, you only require the field commander to complete the mission. You don’t control how they fight.”

Sylvia nodded, then pouted, saying unhappily, “Then won’t I be deprived of the fun of fighting on the battlefield?”

Victor shook his head and said, “A Spirit Knight’s extraordinary intellect is better suited for controlling the overall situation… We’re talking about a grand campaign on the scale of over a hundred thousand troops! Only after you’ve cornered the enemy’s main force can you lead The Rose Knights to charge their lines.”

“A campaign of a hundred thousand…”

Sylvia’s face flushed, and her delicate tongue licked her lovely red lips. She giggled. “That sounds rather interesting.”

Victor stared blankly at the incomparably stunning Sylvia. After a few seconds, he cleared his throat with a dry cough and said, “My dear, about the cleansing potions…”

“The ingredients are common, but the potion is very expensive,” Sylvia said with a beaming smile.

Victor chuckled. “You’re not going to sell them to me for one thousand Gold Sols a piece, are you?”

Sylvia shook her head, held up her jade hands, and waved them in front of Victor. “Three Mystic Warrior slots in exchange for one cleansing potion.”

“What?!”

Victor was about to jump up but was pressed back onto the sofa by Sylvia, who sealed his mouth with her red lips. A moment later, she released him and chided, “You think that’s expensive? Then we’ll go with the price of one thousand Gold Sols per potion. You should know that the cleansing potions secretly brewed by Aerie Fortress are worth three thousand Gold Sols each.”

Victor said helplessly, “My dear, that really is a bit expensive…”

The House of Randell and the Church had an agreement: ten Half-dragon hearts, plus a set of swamp medicinal herbs and four hundred Gold Sols, in exchange for one Mystic Warrior slot. The resources the House of Randell spent to train a single Mystic Warrior were definitely worth more than one thousand Gold Sols. However, cultivating one secret knight required at most ten cleansing potions. At a price of one thousand Gold Sols per potion, Victor would have to prepare ten thousand Gold Sols to train a single apprentice knight. To train one hundred apprentice knights would cost one million Gold Sols.

Victor didn’t have that much money on hand, but he could provide the resources to train Mystic Warriors. With Imoson the Wizard and the Alchemical militia, the resources of the Great Marsh were his for the taking.

Victor was prepared to accept Sylvia’s terms, but he couldn’t agree so readily, lest she see through his bluff. Just as he was about to start haggling, Sylvia shook her head and said, “The scholars at Rose Manor are currently breeding aberrant war beasts. The Swift Dragon cavalry of Aerie Fortress are all apprentice knights. I don’t have that many apprentice knights… but I can train Mystic Warriors to serve as war beast cavalry.”

“However, the Church has quotas for training Mystic Warriors for each family. Auguste’s is one thousand, and our York family’s is three hundred.” Sylvia turned her head to look at Victor and asked, “Why does the House of Randell have no quota for Mystic Warriors?”

It dawned on Victor. “So, all this time, Pontiff Clement was just creating a smokescreen to train Mystic Warriors for you?”

“What did you think? This was one of the conditions of my alliance with Clement.”

Sylvia raised a shapely eyebrow, glancing sidelong at Victor. “The Randell Fief isn’t the only territory near the Lizard Marsh.”

Seeing her beloved looking a little dejected, she comforted him, “My dear, the cleansing potions from Aerie Fortress are exceptionally effective; on average, five potions are enough to create one apprentice knight. But potions alone are not enough; you need noble offspring. I’ve already arranged for Audel to go to the Kingdom of Sus to use inducement fees to adopt children of nobles from the Eastern Alliance. I can give you some… Are you satisfied?”

Victor’s spirits lifted, and he quickly said, “Of course, I’m satisfied. We’ll do it on your terms!”

“Four thousand Gold Sols to adopt one child with a knight’s bloodline.”

“Give me twenty to start.” Victor gritted his teeth and nodded heavily. The price was a bit inflated, but he currently had no channel for trading in noble populations.

Sylvia was greatly satisfied. Her eyes curved into crescents as she asked, “In the future, how do you plan to settle the secret knights of the House of Randell?”

“Twenty-five years of service for a fief of fifty square kilometers.”

For a secret knight, a fifty-square-kilometer fief was a bit small, but land in the Centaur Hills was a different matter. Sylvia nodded and pressed, “A lordship?”

Victor hesitated for a moment before saying, “They will certainly receive a lordship title… However, the nobles of the House of Randell will only have ownership of the land. The rights of use and administration will be directly managed by Laketon. Just like Lord Narsen—he and Linda hold important positions, and their fiefs are entirely entrusted to my administration. Of course, emerging families like theirs don’t have the capacity to govern their own fiefs. On the other hand, the power they wield now is far greater than that of a lord with a lordship.”

Sylvia’s gaze was scorching as she said, “You really are going to make a move on the vassalage system!”

Victor said placidly, “The times have changed. The family’s apprentice knights are growing more numerous. How many fiefs do we have to grant? And which lord is willing to weaken their own power? Family knights can be enfeoffed as Barons or higher… As for the rank of lordship, it’s better to keep that in our own hands.”

Sylvia looked at Victor quietly, her red lips parting slightly. “Very good. That is the outcome I desire as well.”

She stood up, her smile like a blooming flower, and asked, “By the way, you said earlier that I am the supreme military commander of the Centaur Hills. Does that mean you will obey my orders too?”

Victor nodded and said seriously, “War is not a game. Military orders are absolute and must be followed. As a member of the Centaur Hills, I will of course obey the orders of the supreme commander.”

“Good, then.” Sylvia placed her hands on her slender hips, lifted her delicate chin, and said to Victor with an air of arrogance, “I now order you to serve me well and satisfy all my demands!”

Victor feigned great anger, swept Sylvia up into his arms, tossed her onto the magnificent feather bed, and pounced on her ferociously.

“In this house, I’m your man!”

Chapter 459: Family Banquet

After lingering at Rose Manor for a few days, Victor finally set out on his journey back to the Randell Fief.

It was late January in the Season of Earth. The weather had turned warm, melting the ice and snow. The bright sun had dried the roads and was coaxing green shoots from the earth. Victor’s carriage traveled south along the tree-lined road by the Silvermoon River, reaching Laketon in just ten days.

It was evening when he arrived. Victor had originally planned to head straight back to Silver Moon Manor to rest, but a border guard of the Randell Fief informed him that his lady was holding a banquet at Laketon Castle to welcome him home.

The “lady” the guard referred to was Nicole. During Victor’s absence, she had presided over the family’s center of power—Silver Moon Manor—in her capacity as the partner of Viscount Randell, exercising the authority of the Viscount’s wife.

Nicole hailed from a lordship family within the York family. Although her parents’ status was low, she had grown up in Rose Manor, was tutored by the Great Knight Trisley, and had once served as Sylvia’s personal guard. She was considered a trusted member of the Queen of Roses’ core faction.

According to the bloodline theory of a strong father and a weak mother, the constitution of an ordinary noblewoman would struggle to bear the bloodline of a high-ranked knight. To produce healthy offspring with pure bloodlines, Silver Knights often chose naturally awakened female apprentice knights as their spouses. Therefore, at Rose Manor, Nicole had primarily received an education befitting a lord’s wife and a personal handmaiden.

Compared to Sophia, Nicole was far more like a competent viscountess, lacking only the legal title. Moreover, she was very close to Lilia. In the minds of Victor’s earliest followers, Nicole was the master’s wife.

Most importantly, Victor and Nicole had been through life and death together and shared a deep emotional bond.

Convening the important members of the fief for a family banquet to welcome the lord home and thereby announce the transfer of power was one of the duties of the family’s deputy head.

The carriage stopped right at the edge of the drawbridge. Victor stepped out, glanced up at the imposing sight of Laketon Castle, and then, flanked by two squads of guards, crossed the drawbridge and passed through the gate into the Knight’s Hall.

Nicole, leading the young-attendants-in-training of Silver Moon Manor, stood at the entrance to welcome the master of the house on his return. Her hair was worn loose, and she was dressed in a noblewoman’s long gown. Her posture was dignified and elegant, her aura gentle and captivating, and her beautiful eyes were brimming with tender affection.

A warmth spread through Victor’s heart. He walked forward, about to praise Nicole, when a little chubby kid rushed into his arms.

“Master, Master, I’m losing my baby teeth! Look, look, haven’t I gotten taller?”

Beldina tugged at Victor’s collar, shaking it incessantly. She secretly stood on her tiptoes, her small, round face lifted up, lips pulled back to reveal a little mouth with missing front teeth, her clear, big eyes full of expectation.

The little girl’s comical appearance was simply adorable.

Victor swept Beldina up into his arms and planted several kisses on her rosy-apple cheeks. “Yes, my little Bel has certainly grown taller.”

Caligula sidled up, bent over, and pointed to his own teeth, showing off foolishly, “Master, Aka is losing his teeth too. Bel, look, Aka is losing his teeth too.”

“Bel has lost six teeth. Aka, how many have you lost?” Beldina hooked her arms around Victor’s neck and craned her little head to curiously inspect Caligula’s teeth.

“One, two, three, four…” Caligula counted on his fingers several times before saying very seriously, “Aka has lost twenty-one teeth.”

“You’re lying! If you lost that many teeth, why haven’t you grown taller?” Beldina was furious. How could anyone have lost more teeth than her? The little girl didn’t consider the possibility that losing teeth meant losing all of them.

Caligula looked utterly bewildered. Beldina hadn’t grown taller at all, so why did the Master say she had?

Victor shook his head with a helpless smile and passed the chubby girl to Aka. With practiced ease, she climbed onto the big guy’s shoulders, hugged his head, and giggled nonstop.

As long as Beldina was happy, everyone else felt happy. Attendant’s etiquette… what was that?

Nicole gathered her skirts and curtsied to Victor. “My lord, welcome home.”

Victor stepped forward, took Nicole’s delicate hand, and praised her affectionately, “My lady, I am so happy to see you. And you look absolutely beautiful today.”

Nicole smiled sweetly. Following the etiquette for a noble couple, they kissed each other on the cheek, and she took his arm as they walked into the Knight’s Hall.

Hundreds of Greensage candles blazed brightly, illuminating every corner of the Knight’s Hall. The air was filled with the distinct, fresh fragrance of greensage grass and amber. The village heads from across the Randell Fief, Magistrate Munk, and the young attendants from Silver Moon Manor all bowed to Victor. Of course, Narsen and the Bear Company Commander, Baritt, were also there. They had completed their assassination mission and returned covertly to Laketon directly from Stonetooth City, waiting to report to Victor. Barol and Tao De of Quicksilver had also returned, but their special status made it inappropriate for them to appear in public.

Victor gave Narsen and Baritt a meaningful look, then let go of Nicole’s arm and knelt on one knee before Father Miller, the resident priest of the Randell Fief.

The old priest, dressed in a fine linen robe, held his scepter level and tapped it lightly on Victor’s shoulder, intoning with a solemn expression, “Viscount Randell, may our Lord bless you.”

The resident priest’s confirmation of the lord’s identity was a declaration to all: the lord had returned to his family, and power was naturally transferred back to him.

Victor recited, “Praise be to the supreme Lord of Radiance.” Then he rose to his feet and teased warmly, “Old fellow, you’re looking well. Should I arrange a personal maid for you?”

Miller rolled his eyes and grumbled, “Let’s get this feast started. My stomach is rumbling!”

Victor laughed heartily and led Nicole to the head of the long dining table. The others took their seats, and servants entered in a line, carrying platters of food. In no time, all five long tables were laden with an assortment of fine wines and delicacies.

A banquet held by a lord in the Knight’s Hall followed a fixed etiquette, with everyone’s seating position meticulously arranged. Victor and Nicole sat side-by-side at the head of the table. To his right was Father Miller, the resident priest, and to his left was the Commander of the guards, Lord Narsen. Seated next to Narsen was a stunningly beautiful woman with a voluptuous figure and features as sharp as a sculpture. Her name was Laveta Randell, a female apprentice knight from Rose Manor. She was once Nicole’s subordinate and was now Lord Narsen’s personal handmaiden.

Directly opposite Laveta was, of course, the little foodie Beldina. She sat beside Father Miller, swinging her short legs, her large, brownish-red eyes fixed on the feast before her, a continuous slurping sound of drool coming from her mouth.

Next were the old Marquess Sorim’s illegitimate children, the siblings Brandon and Shirley. As Viscount Randell’s adopted son and daughter, their status was considerable despite their young age. Seated after Brandon and his sister were the seventeen children from noble families whom Nicole had brought into the House of Randell with inducement fees. The big oaf Caligula sat at the very end.

The seating arrangement at the banquet was determined by noble bloodline and family name. Baritt, the village heads, Magistrate Munk, the personal guard captains Gru, Reno, and Shak, the Swamp Scouts’ leader Jack, and the young attendants from Silver Moon Manor could only sit at the other tables.

Beldina was the exception; no one would have objected even if she had sat on Victor’s lap.

Victor glanced around the hall, then turned halfway and asked in a low voice, “Why aren’t Lilia, the Elina sisters, and Lord Narsen’s wife here?”

Nicole smiled, revealing her pearly white teeth. Narsen cleared his throat, covering his mouth with a fist as he mumbled, “Linda… my two sons have an upset stomach. Linda has to take care of them, so… hehe.”

Victor couldn’t help but smile. Lilia, the Elina sisters, and Linda had all undergone body reconstruction and were in the process of losing their baby teeth. They probably wouldn’t make any formal public appearances until their new teeth grew in.

It was one thing for women to be conscious of their appearance, but Narsen’s bashfulness was hilarious, especially for someone who had just slain a Silver Knight.

Victor was about to tease him when Nicole pressed his hand and said softly, “My dear, it’s time for the toast.”

Victor raised his adamantine goblet, stood up, and declared in a loud voice, “Everyone, please drink this cup to the bottom. May the glory of the Supreme Lord protect us, and may the House of Randell prosper and flourish.”

Everyone rose to their feet, echoing loudly, “May the glory of the Supreme Lord protect us, and may the House of Randell prosper and flourish.”

The banquet’s appetizer wine was brewed from Purple Cane and Green cherry-plums. Its sweet and sour taste was a perfect appetite stimulant. Victor drained his cup and smiled, “Everyone, please enjoy tonight’s feast to your heart’s content.”

With a cheer, everyone sat down in their respective places and focused on tackling the food on the tables.

A family banquet hosted by a lord was a very serious affair. In the Silver Age, it was common for a lord and his household knights to have to don their armor and ride out to battle halfway through a meal. Although the Kingdom of Gambia was relatively peaceful, the urgent tradition of the lord’s banquet had been passed down and developed into a set of etiquette.

The lord would prepare a sumptuous feast in advance. The family members were to treat the food with a proper attitude, not speaking while eating. It did not matter whether they used their hands or utensils, but they had to eat their fill as quickly as possible and maintain a clear head. Each person was allowed only two cups of wine: the first as an appetizer, the last to aid digestion. After tasting the main course, one would tap their plate with their knife and fork to signal they were full. They could not touch any more food but were free to chat with others who had also finished.

The atmosphere of a family banquet was tense and solemn. During the meal, the only fun was competing to see who could eat the most.

A good appetite at the table showed that you were very satisfied with the food provided by the host and also demonstrated your own strength and valor.

The culinary skills of the House of Randell’s master chefs were, of course, beyond question, and they worked with only the finest ingredients: charcoal-grilled six-legged crocodile tail, Giant Python meat soup with white mushrooms, steamed white-bellied salmon, roast suckling pig, ground lizard skewers, wine-seared goose liver, pan-fried marsh prawns, braised lamb chops, marinated beef tongue, and cream vegetable salad… The enormous dining tables were laden with food.

The clatter of knives and forks and the sound of teeth tearing into roasted meat echoed through the Knight’s Hall. The three big foodies—Caligula, Beldina, and Narsen—feasted with gusto, their mouths glistening with grease.

Narsen gnawed on an entire crocodile tail; Caligula had already devoured a pig’s trotter, two lamb shanks, and four beef tongues; not to be outdone, Beldina buried her chubby little face in the roast suckling pig. Spurred on by these three, everyone’s appetite soared, and entire platters of food were cleared away as soon as they were served.

What surprised Victor was that Father Miller’s appetite was even greater than that of Reno, the Crouching Ox Militiaman. A maid had already replaced the old priest’s plate four times.

Before long, four strong servants carried out the main course of the banquet: a three-meter-long Marsh Tiger-striped Fish.

Adult Tiger-striped Fish were massive, weighing up to 500 pounds. They were ferocious, with sharp teeth, and were a type of Savage state deep-water predatory fish. The Half-dragons in the Great Marsh would hunt them to offer to the Hydra Lizards, often at the cost of their own lives. The fish’s meat was coarse and dense, but unlike that of land-based savage beasts, it was tender enough for ordinary people to chew. Although the texture of the meat was poor, it was rich in a special colloid that could improve a human’s physical constitution. The Alchemical Empire classified Tiger-striped Fish meat as a class-two ingredient. However, its roe had an affinity for the void water element, making it a class-one extraordinary ingredient.

This particular fish was missing its head; the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard had clearly exercised more restraint than a wild Marsh Dragon-Lizard. Nicole gracefully stepped forward and, with an adamantine dagger, made a light incision along the fish’s belly. Glistening, ox-eye-sized roe, coated in a thick sauce, spilled out. A maid carefully collected the roe in a large crystal bowl and followed behind Nicole.

Nicole elegantly distributed varying amounts of roe to everyone at the main table. Finally, she walked over to Jack at the secondary table and said, “The Swamp Scouts discovered this Tiger-striped Fish in a deep-water lake in the Great Marsh, its head crushed by a six-legged crocodile. Captain Jack is worthy of enjoying its roe.”

Jack stood up, pressed a hand to his chest in a salute, and said humbly, “We were just lucky.”

Nicole smiled and nodded, giving him four eggs before returning to her seat. A maid cleared away the remaining roe, which was reserved for Lilia, the Elina sisters, Linda, and Narsen’s twin sons.

Victor shook his head inwardly. The roe of the Tiger-striped Fish had an extraordinary anti-aging effect and was incredibly valuable. When the fishermen of Borui caught a female Tiger-striped Fish, the roe was sold by the egg, each fetching a price of twenty Gold Sols.

Giving such a food, rich in the Life element, to the Alchemical militia was a complete waste.

With a sense of regret, Victor tasted an egg. It had a fishy smell but made his whole body feel relaxed. He had a preference for food with an affinity for the water element, regardless of its taste.

The Elemental Sea governed the laws and matter of this world. Ordinary people interacted with the outside world by consuming food. Different foods had different properties, but their most fundamental nature was still based on the four great elements: earth, fire, wind, and water. The Alchemical Empire categorized these as the four attributes of living beings: Physique, Soul Fire, Perception, and Life. Modern Potion-making was a legacy of the Chosen’s potion-craft, and tracing it back even further, it likely originated from the legacy of the ancient Alchemists and the Mages’ Association. The current theories of Potion-making mainly served mortals—that is, Knights who were not yet extraordinary, clergy, and ordinary people. But the fundamental principles remained the same.

The water element corresponded to the Life attribute, which manifested as reproduction, physical energy, youth, healing ability, lifespan, and so on. The Season of Water was the season for procreation, and the fetuses of living beings were rich in the water element. A peculiar secret art circulated among the nobility: they would select a pair of healthy goats and, for two years, feed them only a few special herbs. Then, in the spring of the third year, they would slaughter the ewe, remove the fetus, and consume it to slow aging and repair bodily injuries.

How could a specially prepared goat fetus even compare to the roe of a Tiger-striped Fish?

However, no food or potion had much effect on an Extraordinary Knight, with the exception of the Blue Taro, which was highly esteemed by the ancient Alchemists.

Extraordinary Knights constantly interacted with the void element. Their eating and drinking were more a matter of biological instinct, a way of adhering to the laws of mortals. They could survive without food or water, but in a matter of months, they would be assimilated by the origin of the world, which was equivalent to starving or dying of thirst.

One could say that Extraordinary Knights walked a path from the mortal world toward the origin of the world, while mortals walked the evolutionary path of the world’s laws.

The Elemental Sea had given rise to countless mortal beings. Victor was not an ordinary human, but he was still a type of mortal. The laws of the world had bestowed upon him the innate ability to automatically absorb the void water element. Although he could not command the void element as freely as a Raging Wave Knight, his body was overflowing with the water element, which represented Life.

For Victor, the Tiger-striped Fish roe was merely a delicacy. It could neither enhance his Life attribute nor help him comprehend the Surge talent. A taste was enough.

Losing interest, Victor tapped his plate with his knife and fork, picked up his napkin to wipe his mouth, and signaled that he was full.

“My dear, would you like my roe?” Victor offered gallantly to Nicole.

Nicole smiled and shook her head, tapping her own plate. “I don’t need it,” she said softly. “My dear, let’s share it with the others.”

Beldina and Caligula were both staring expectantly at Victor and Nicole, having already devoured their own portions of roe. Victor smiled, first spooning four eggs onto Miller’s plate. He clapped the old priest warmly on the shoulder and said, “Old man Miller, eat up. Live a few more years.”

Miller accepted without ceremony, tilting his plate and eating the roe in one go. Beldina’s gaze immediately shifted from Miller’s plate back to Victor and Nicole’s.

“Narsen, Laveta, Joanna, this is for you.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

Seeing that the little foodie was on the verge of tears, Nicole pursed her lips and distributed the roe to everyone at the table. Beldina received four, Caligula three, Brandon and Shirley two each, and the other noble attendants one each. However, a boy of about ten next to Brandon received two eggs.

Nicole turned to Victor and explained, “Klaus has awakened his Aura and resonated with one Elemental Node.”

Klaus came from a declining noble family. When the Tournament was held in the Centaur Hills, he had traveled with his uncle to Goldwater City, where Nicole had purchased him for seven hundred Gold Sols to become a young attendant for the House of Randell. As Victor recalled, the blond, blue-eyed boy was shy and quiet but incredibly diligent. When the other children were asleep, Klaus would often be secretly practicing the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form, for which he had been punished by Elina more than once.

Now, Klaus had naturally awakened his Aura, which was a pleasant surprise for Victor. He asked, “Klaus, when did you awaken your Aura?”

The young attendant quickly finished his food, tapped his plate, and stood up. Covering his mouth, he answered indistinctly, “Two months ago.”

Nicole covered her mouth and chuckled. “Klaus demonstrated the most difficult lunging technique in the manor tournament, defeated all his opponents, and won the championship. I permitted him to undergo body reconstruction, and I never expected him to actually awaken his Aura. Now he’s losing his teeth too, so he speaks with a lisp.”

Klaus blushed and nodded. The other young attendants looked on with envy. Victor motioned for Klaus to sit down and asked Nicole in surprise, “Body reconstruction can help a noble awaken a knight’s bloodline?”

Nicole nodded. “Unwavering dedication is bound to be answered, and tireless pursuit is bound to be rewarded. Body reconstruction requires the blessing of the Divine Art of the Fire of the Mind, and the Eagle-Lion Mystic Form also aims to ignite the fire of the mind. Klaus is usually very diligent. These three factors created a naturally awakened apprentice knight. It’s not impossible for him to become a true Knight in the future. Some of the secret knights at Rose Manor awakened their Aura during the body reconstruction process.”

“So that’s how it is… No wonder Sylvia wanted to trade cleansing potions for body reconstruction slots… Heh, this is wonderful. I can save a fortune.” Victor clapped his hands and laughed, then another thought occurred to him. He asked suspiciously, “Does the Randell Fief diocese have Adjudicators now?”

“Yes.” Nicole nodded and said, “Three months ago, Master Yukar arrived in Laketon with a group of missionaries to prepare for the construction of a school for general education. Master Yukar has been at the southern fortress for the past few days, which is why he did not attend the evening banquet.”

“Then who performed the Divine Art of the Fire of the Mind?”

“Me,” Father Miller said, tapping his plate and pointing to his own nose.

“Aren’t you a second-rank priest? The Fire of the Mind is a level four divine art!”

Miller nodded and said, “Yes, it is.”

Nicole jumped, her eyes widening in shock. “What? Father Miller, His Holiness the Pope didn’t promote you when he left the Randell Fief?”

“Hehe, actually, I only know the Divine Art of Holy Light,” Father Miller said smugly. “Our Lord said the Holy Light can heal wounds, so the Holy Light is a healing spell. Our Lord said the Holy Light can ignite the fire of the mind, so the Holy Light is the fire of the mind.”

“Our Lord is not omnipotent, but in the domain of Holy Light, our Lord is supreme.”

Victor was silent for a long time. He tapped his fingers on the table and said with emotion, “A little over five years ago, I was still worrying about food… Without even realizing it, we’ve become so powerful.”

Chapter 460: Strength

How powerful is the House of Randell now?

The territories under Victor’s actual control include: the Randell Viscounty, the Phoenix Barony, Raven Town, a mountainous region in the southern part of the Larkspur Mountains that is twenty kilometers wide and eighty kilometers long, and an area of nearly four thousand square kilometers on the eastern side of the Great Marsh, for a total area of over 18,600 square kilometers. Within these lands are three high-quality iron veins, one low-grade iron mine, three Thorium mines, one Mithril mine, a crystal vein, and a Saronite Demon Iron mine, 550,000 mu of Purple Cane forest, over eight hundred thousand mu of cultivated terraced fields, and nearly 1.6 million mu of natural pastureland. The rest consists of natural forests and marshy wetlands, with an uncountable wealth of wild flora and fauna.

The population under the administration of Laketon, Rose Town, and Raven Town is close to one hundred thousand, with fourteen stream reservoirs of various sizes, a total of eight administrative villages and twenty-one farmsteads. Excluding Nicole’s Rose Castle and the southern fortress currently under construction, Victor possesses three castles: Laketon Castle, Raven Castle, and a mountain castle. The forces directly under Victor’s command include: 3,500 hired soldiers, three hundred vassal cavalry, and two hundred and sixty Swiftbird light cavalry. Victor also indirectly controls fifty-one mountain strongholds with over seventeen thousand mountain folk… Every four years, he can easily recruit three hundred mountain folk hunters.

In terms of high-end martial power, the House of Randell does have its Knights.

Nicole, a senior knight who has undergone the Trial of Life and Death, is capable of stepping into the Silver realm at any moment. She is currently in a phase of accumulation and may even have the potential to challenge the Gold rank in the future. Under Nicole’s command are another knight and an apprentice knight. Both are secret knights trained at Rose Manor who participated in the Ant-man battle, possessing top-tier combat will and individual martial skill. If Victor were to provide them with Gold Restoration Potions, they would undoubtedly become a senior knight and a senior apprentice knight.

Of course, Victor doesn’t find it entirely convenient to command these three knights, including Nicole. After all, their surname is York, not Randell.

However, Tao De, Laveta, Brandon, Shirley, and Klaus are all knights of the House of Randell.

Tao De is resilient and tenacious, his swordsmanship divine; he is a formidable warrior who has ignited his fire of the mind. He has taken a Gold Potion and resonated with eleven Elemental Nodes, putting him not far behind an initial-rank knight.

Laveta. Victor doesn’t know her very well, but Sylvia chose her to be Nicole’s right-hand woman, and there must be a convincing reason for it. Compared to other noblewomen among the knights, Laveta’s looks are not outstanding. She distinguished herself from the secret knights of Rose Manor through merit, ability, and character. According to Narsen, his wife has been through countless battles, participating in the Three Provinces War and the Ant-man battle, and has cleared out monster lairs in the Centaur Hills. She has already ignited her fire of the mind.

The siblings Brandon and Shirley, of the House Sorim bloodline, are ten and eight years old, respectively, and have resonated with four and two Elemental Nodes. The old Marquess Sorim sent these two illegitimate children to Victor through his eldest grandson, Boris. He hopes that one day, Brandon and Shirley can leverage the power of the Centaur Hills to revive the House Sorim.

The reason is simple. Although House Sorim has declined, the marquessate is still intact. In the political struggles of the kingdom, and even the Empire, great families are more than willing to support a puppet marquess as an ally or a buffer, so they don’t have to fight on the front lines themselves.

The old Marquess Sorim had four of his seven illegitimate children adopted by Auguste, Joshua, Wellington, and the Nim family, respectively. At the time, because the York family was being ostracized by the Gambis Royal Family, Sylvia was not prepared to meddle in the murky waters of Copper City, lest she provoke a united boycott from the great lords of Gambis. Thus, Marquis Sorim entrusted Brandon and Shirley to the buffer between the York family and the Royal Family—Viscount Randell.

Sorim’s illegitimate children are young and have yet to form a strong sense of family identity. After being tutored, they will only identify with the families that adopted them. Otherwise, who would support a Marquis Sorim who is not loyal to them? However, a hound let off its leash will slowly turn into a wolf. In a hundred or two hundred years, House Sorim will simply be House Sorim.

Brandon and Shirley are not physically robust; their respective mothers were likely ordinary noblewomen of outstanding beauty. This congenital deficiency limits the siblings’ potential. But their father is an Earth Knight, after all, so Brandon and Shirley can at least reach the Bronze-rank. Moreover, the siblings are very beautiful. Shirley, in particular, already has an exquisite, flower-like face at her young age and is sure to become an absolute stunner in the future.

Beauty, combined with their frail strength, forms a unique advantage… they will receive the affection and protection of the powerful; they can absorb noble bloodlines; and because they are easy to control, they can be sent out to contend for the title of Marquis Sorim.

Well, in the eyes of the world, Viscount Randell is a classic example of a male pet’s rise to power. Although Victor insists that this should be blamed on the little Baron… Marquis Sorim clearly had the same idea, it’s just that Victor has now become the object of Shirley’s attachment.

This is actually a common tactic for leveraging power. Because of this, the future and fate of the Brandon siblings are for Victor to decide. In any case, Victor has Gold Restoration Potions, so the siblings will at least become senior knights of the House of Randell. Perhaps the Dragon’s Vein Potion can even compensate for their congenital deficiencies, allowing them to step into the Silver realm.

Victor decided to pay close attention to these two little ones.

Klaus, of humble birth and mixed bloodline, has a very low probability of becoming a Silver Knight. But his value far exceeds that of the Brandon siblings.

It’s like buying the bones of a prized steed to attract living ones; the power of an example is infinite.

Children, muddle-headed and ignorant, eat, sleep, train, and study at the behest of adults. It’s difficult for them to clearly define their own convictions and paths. Even if Victor provides ample resources, he cannot guarantee the success rate of the young noble attendants. But Klaus represents the current and future young noble attendants of House Randell. His perseverance and success show his companions the way, inspiring their hearts and spurring them onward. The House of Randell will see the rise of a batch of truly strong individuals, regardless of whether they become apprentice knights.

Once these valiant and spirited young nobles accept Victor’s ideology, they can completely break free from the shackles of the vassalage system. They will hold up half the sky for the House of Randell.

Klaus will definitely be a senior knight in the future. Victor has already bestowed upon him the family name and promoted him to be his personal retainer.

As for the Elina sisters, besides being responsible for being as beautiful as flowers, they are also in charge of training the household maids. Victor only hopes that their strength, along with Lilia’s, is sufficient for self-preservation at the very least; he has no other demands.

Besides knights, the House of Randell also has top-tier Ferocious Warriors.

Narsen, wise but appearing foolish, loyal and brave, is Victor’s most trusted confidant. His personal strength is comparable to an initial-rank Silver Knight, and he can always solve complex problems with simple methods.

When the Ant-man tide swept through the Randell Fief, Narsen actually managed to use the Ant-man army to remove two of Victor’s thorns in his side, then lured the Ant-men to Earl Chapman’s domain. Narsen saved five hundred thousand mu of Purple Cane forest. Otherwise, how could the Randell family’s finances be so flush? The Chapman family even has to be grateful to Narsen for the favor of tipping them off.

Caligula, immensely strong, kind and simple-minded, with sharp intuition. If it were just a contest of martial skill, even Narsen would be no match for him. Victor believes that the simple-natured Caligula has already touched the edge of the Touch of the Mind. The value of this precognitive-type talent is comparable to a Gold Knight’s elemental Perception, and perhaps even surpasses it.

The big guy’s rapid growth might be related to his pure heart. Victor has adopted a hands-off approach with him. Once he stabilizes his realm of the power of the mind, Victor will have him slaughter pigs and sheep to try and overcome his timid-as-a-mouse psychological barrier.

Marcy, a ferocious refugee leader who once beat Caligula to the brink of death, is now Lilia’s personal guard. Her value is similar to Klaus’s—to serve as a benchmark. The only difference is that she represents the direction for cultivating Ferocious Warriors.

As the strongest Ferocious Warrior of the current age, Tournans’s understanding and application of external force, inner potential, and mental force are second to none. He believes that if Marcy cultivates his improved “Stupid Bear” secret art, she might become a second Narsen.

Rather than saying Tournans has a high opinion of Marcy, it would be more accurate to say he has high hopes for the new secret martial art based on Stance practice. In a sense, Marcy is one of Tournans’s test subjects. He uses the clergy in the Randell Fief to keep abreast of the effects of Marcy’s cultivation of the secret art, and continuously adjusts the training plan for the secret martial art. As long as Marcy remains at Silver Moon Manor, Victor can grasp the latest “Stupid Bear” secret art.

Of course, Tournans’s test subjects definitely aren’t limited to just Marcy. The House of Randell will most likely only receive a weakened version of the new secret art. But as long as this new secret art can cultivate Ferocious Warriors with powerful minds, Victor is already quite satisfied.

According to the Church’s research and statistics, one in every seven thousand people is born with a naturally powerful mind. Due to postnatal factors such as environment, nutrition, and training, many potential Ferocious Warriors become ordinary people. But the “Stupid Bear” secret art and body reconstruction give them a chance to grow and develop once more.

This is a legacy—the legacy of the Ferocious human’s secret art.

Now that the House of Randell has this legacy, why would it fear a lack of Ferocious Warriors?

Victor renamed the “Stupid Bear Secret Art” to the “Raging Lion Combat Technique” and ordered his subordinates to keep an eye out for people with naturally sharp intuition. Quicksilver and the smuggling caravan have followed his orders and already sent two candidates for cultivation: one is Barol’s adopted son, a master thief named Red Wolf; the other is a young mountain folk boy taken in by the Warhammer Mercenary Company, Rogers.

In truth, Victor doesn’t place much importance on the individual martial prowess of Ferocious Warriors. However, the power of their minds is naturally strong, making it easier for them to ignite the fire of the mind than ordinary people.

The greatest value of the fire of the mind lies in dealing with complex problems quickly and effectively. For example, if a warrior is surrounded by ten enemies, an ordinary person would be at a loss, unsure whether to advance or retreat, and unable to use even a third of their full skill. But a warrior who has ignited the fire of the mind can instantly make the most rational judgment and immediately act on it—break out, counter-kill, or fight to the death to take a few more enemies down with them.

Warriors who have ignited the fire of the mind are the ranger commanders Victor needs.

In the mystical domain, Victor has the Alchemy Tower, Imoson the Wizard, and Miller, the God-favored.

The Alchemy Tower, a masterpiece of ancient alchemists, is soul-bound to Victor. It has 11,807 points of Soul Fire and five types of alchemical units with different functions. The most expensive of these, the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard, weighs a full 1,200 kilograms. Its physical strength alone can crush a 360-kilogram Ogre warrior, and it possesses the talent of Extraordinary Regeneration. Although they are not the combat units of the Alchemical Empire, their individual strength absolutely surpasses any kind of aberrant war beast, reaching the level of the Silver-rank.

Victor could easily form a Silver-rank war beast cavalry corps.

Imoson the Wizard. His power is like a rolling snowball; its limit is a powerful army of monsters. If Imoson is smart and ambitious enough, he is undoubtedly a wizard of legendary caliber.

In Victor’s eyes, Imoson is like a sharp double-edged sword that could hurt him if not wielded properly. Fortunately, Imoson’s body is frail, and with the Alchemical militia keeping an eye on him, Victor doesn’t have to worry about the situation spiraling out of control.

Father Miller, a God-favored individual whom Victor is reluctant to interact with but must face nonetheless. His existence is a constant reminder for Victor to be mindful of the hidden dangers behind the Alchemy Tower, as well as the protector of humanity—the Lord of Radiance.

Victor doesn’t know how strong Miller truly is, nor is he clear on his real purpose. But Miller has shown sufficient goodwill toward Victor, and as a God-favored of the Lord of Radiance, he presumably will not violate the principles of the Radiant Code. From Pope Clement’s attitude, it’s clear the Church has experience in dealing with the God-favored. In fact, apart from the first Pope Inoc, most of the God-favored have lived in obscurity, and they have not changed the historical course of the human kingdoms. Most importantly, Victor speculates that the Lord of Radiance and the Alchemical Empire belong to the same faction. The fact that Father Miller helps Victor resist the harm of Wizardry and helps his attendants complete their body reconstruction both confirm this relationship.

For now, a priest capable of saving the dying is of extraordinary significance to the House of Randell.

The current power and prosperity of the House of Randell did not come without a price. From the day Victor gave the rock bricks to Sylvia, he has been like a vine clinging to the great tree of the York family, desperately absorbing nutrients and sunlight. While the House of Randell grew rapidly, it was also stamped with the mark of the York family.

To this day, the core members of the House of Randell have accepted the York family’s suzerain status. Their spouses are mostly household maids trained by Elina, and their descendants will also continue to be influenced by Rose Manor.

Victor has no regrets. He climbed into Sylvia’s bed himself, so what more is there to say?

Lords don’t like to be lectured. Sylvia handles this aspect particularly well. She arranges a seat for Victor beside her own throne, rather than looking down on him from on high.

Victor worried that if he dragged the York family into a vortex one day, how would he face the woman he loved most?

Nicole pushed open the door to the castle’s master bedroom and saw Victor leaning against the feather bed in a daze, a smile involuntarily gracing her lips. She casually bolted the door, strode elegantly to the bedside on her long, slender legs, kicked off her shoes, and snuggled up to Victor like a kitten, asking softly, “Darling, what are you thinking about?”

She had just bathed and emanated a fresh, pleasant fragrance. Her flushed, oval face was stunningly beautiful, and her low-cut black fine linen dress accentuated her soft, snow-white skin. Her exquisitely curved body was partially concealed, making her look exceptionally alluring.

“I was thinking of you.” Victor never blushed when it came to pleasing his spouse.

“Thinking what about me?” Nicole shot her lover a look that was both feigned annoyance and delight. She knew Victor had been thinking about something else, but her lover’s sweet words always left her completely satisfied.

Victor hugged the fragrant Nicole and said solemnly, “I want to thank you.”

“Thank me? Why would you thank me?” Nicole pouted her red lips, asking with a mix of dissatisfaction and delight.

Victor was silent for a moment before recounting the matter of the Golden Company and Sophia in full detail. He finished with a shake of his head and a sigh, “My political acumen is still lacking… No, it’s just too naive. I once thought of controlling Sophia to get my hands on the Golden Company. If I had really done that, the House of Randell would have faced a severe crisis… Sylvia originally intended to leave Sophia and her fortune in the Centaur Hills. But after hearing about the Golden Company, Sylvia immediately changed her mind and let Sophia continue as a Marchioness.”

“Darling, it was you who made me change my mind.”

Sophia is not a woman who plays by the rules. If she returned to the House of Randell, she would inevitably stir up trouble and try to usurp the top position. Since Sophia knows of the Golden Company’s existence, she would never let it go and would only incite Victor to develop the Golden Company with all his might.

Sylvia doesn’t care how much trouble Sophia stirs up in the Centaur Hills. But if she extended the Golden Company’s feelers to distant foreign lands, the problem would become serious.

In the eyes of outsiders, the Golden Company is an aggressive force belonging to a Spirit Knight. The York family would be isolated by all the other lords, and as the buffer, the House of Randell would bear the brunt of it, facing joint suppression from all sides. Sylvia and Sophia would become severely opposed over the issue of the Golden Company, and the excellent situation in the Randell Fief would immediately collapse.

Victor changed his mind for me… Nicole’s heart felt as if it were filled with mead, sweet and intoxicating. She rested her head on the man’s firm chest and said, her gaze full of tender affection, “Victor, I love you… I’m willing to do anything for you.”

“Darling, I love you too. No matter what happens in the future, I will never abandon you.”

The two silently enjoyed their shared warmth. Suddenly, Nicole raised her head, looked at Victor intently, and said resentfully, “But I’m not the only one you love…”

Victor was startled. An image of Trisley’s charming, lightly angered face flashed through his mind. He asked dryly, “You… you know?”

Nicole burst out laughing. “Your romantic affair with Miss Margaret is already the talk of the Kingdom of Gambia… Gillian even wrote me a special letter. She told me to tell you to go explain yourself to her when you get back.”

Victor breathed a sigh of relief and shook his head with a laugh. “I have no special relationship with Margaret. There’s another story behind those rumors… As for Gillian,呵呵, she’s just using this as a pretext to get something out of me.”

“Get what?”

“A commission for the House of Randell to mint Copper Sols,” Victor said calmly.

Nicole’s eyes lit up, and she asked with a charming laugh, “Are you so sure? Isn’t that perfect?”

“Not sure. But I’ll make it a reality.”

Victor shook his head. Continuing to discuss other women with Nicole was definitely not a wise move. He changed the subject, “Let’s talk about something else interesting.”

“The things you assigned before you left…”

“Let Lilia tell me about those things,” Victor huffed. “The three of them can’t just avoid their husband because they’re losing their baby teeth, can they?”

“Alright.” Nicole nodded helplessly, then said gleefully, “I found a special talent… His name is Imoson, and he’s an outstanding animal tamer. He worked under Jack as a Swamp Scout for a year and a half. Imoson helped the Swamp Scouts train many forest falcons and green-eyed eagles, so Jack recommended him to Lilia.”

“I questioned him myself. Imoson is from the east. He once worked as an assistant to a master of the hunt and learned his animal taming skills there.”

“Really?” Victor asked, feigning surprise. “You didn’t tell Rose Manor about Imoson?”

“Hmph, I’m not that stupid. He’s our House of Randell’s animal tamer.”

Nicole crinkled her cute, upturned nose, hugged Victor, and said in a sweet voice, “I’ve arranged for two household maids to be Imoson’s wives. You should grant him investiture as a family vassal tomorrow.”

Victor was silent for a moment, then shook his head and said, “Let Imoson be a commoner for three years first. After he has rendered meritorious service, it will be appropriate for me to grant him investiture as a vassal.”

Nicole thought for a moment and nodded. “You’re right, darling. Vassalage cannot be granted lightly!”

“Oh, right. There’s another amusing story,” Nicole said with a beaming smile. “A few of the young attendants from the manor took Beldina to play at the casinos in Laketon. As it turned in, Beldina won nine out of ten bets. Those casino owners now pay Beldina a tribute of one hundred Silver Sols every month, just to ask her to stay away from the casinos.”

“Little Bel was so smug, she walked around with her chin up for days. In reality, those lower-class people know how much we dote on the little girl; they’re just trying to curry favor with Silver Moon Manor.”

Nicole shook her head and chuckled, but suspicion bloomed in Victor’s heart.

Beldina has all sorts of unusual traits. Her development is especially slow. Even after undergoing body reconstruction, her condition doesn’t seem to have improved. But Miller said there was nothing wrong with her body, that she was just growing slowly.

Could this just be Miller’s well-intentioned consolation?

The little girl is especially lovable; even the most ferocious hounds like her. Imoson had mentioned that when the Ogre caught Bel, not only did it not eat her, it planned to raise her into a chubby little Ogre. The cruel and cold-blooded Half-dragon also became good friends with Bel.

Tournans said that Beldina’s power of the mind naturally possesses a charm attribute, but isn’t cross-species charm a bit too ridiculous?

The most suspicious thing is, after spending so much time with her, why wasn’t I the least bit alarmed? It’s as if some special power made me deliberately overlook Beldina’s abnormalities… Could it be that Bel is a little Wizard? But Clement checked Beldina’s body with the divine art of true sight, and Miller’s amulet showed no reaction… No! Miller and Beldina are very close. If Miller was the one who tampered with things, it would explain everything! Could it be that Beldina’s talent can help me? Is her talent… luck?!

The X-3 operated at high speed, arranging all the details into a coherent line in Victor’s mind. He wished he could go and test Beldina right away.

“Darling, what are you thinking about again?” Nicole hummed softly, her watery eyes filled with allure.

Victor smiled faintly. He would not forget that this night belonged to Nicole.

Chapter 461: Light of the Mind

The next morning.

Victor finished his morning exercises, had someone prepare the gambling paraphernalia, and then called Beldina into the study alone. He planned to verify his suspicions, and testing the little chubster was obviously easier than testing Father Miller.

“Beldina, we have many secrets. You’ve kept them very well. So I’m going to reward you.”

Smiling, Victor took out pastries, candied fruits, jams, and cream pies from a basket, laying them out one by one on the desk.

Beldina propped her arms on the table, resting her round chin on her chubby little hands, her eyes fixed on the half-table of delicacies. She gulped, then asked adorably, “Master, are all of these for me?”

“Hmm… Have you been to see Imosen?” Victor asked nonchalantly as he poured warm goat’s milk into a crystal glass.

“Old… Imosen doesn’t know me, hmph, and I don’t know Imosen.” Rolling her reddish-brown eyes, Beldina quickly corrected herself.

If Imosen’s identity were to be exposed, there was no telling how many people would be implicated. Both Victor and Imosen had repeatedly warned Beldina that she must pretend to be a stranger to her father. Beldina had always behaved well, never mentioning her life in the Great Marsh to anyone.

The little girl is pretty tight-lipped, after all, she’s supposedly seventeen or eighteen… Tsk, why do I feel like she’s more of an elf than I am? If she had a natural lifespan of over two hundred years, she would indeed look about six or seven right now… As Victor pondered this, he handed the goat’s milk over. Beldina’s next words, however, stunned him.

“Imosen is a big meanie. He beats Melani and Carol,” Beldina said indignantly. Seeing the surprise on her Master’s face, she added, “I heard it with my own ears. Imosen locked them in the room, and he hit Melani so hard she was shouting. The next night, it was Carol’s turn… It’s a good thing I don’t know Imosen.”

Victor’s handsome face turned from pale to white, finally darkening completely. “Someone, attend me!” he shouted.

Reno, the Crouching Ox Militiaman, pushed the door open and entered. Victor instructed him, “Notify Laketon’s Administrative Office to arrange for a large residence. Have Imosen’s family move out of the lord’s mansion today and settle in Laketon.”

Reno nodded and left the study. Victor leaned back in his chair, watching Beldina gulp down the goat’s milk, and felt a headache coming on.

It had been over a decade since Imosen had been with a woman, so letting loose a little was understandable. But Beldina’s habit of eavesdropping was simply terrible. The lord’s mansion at Silver Moon Manor only had two Alchemical auxiliary soldiers; no one else could do a thing about the little foodie… She was truly spoiled!

Victor decided to punish Beldina a little. In front of the little foodie, he placed half of the pastries back into the basket and said, “Bel, you must learn to follow the rules. You can’t run around at night, and you certainly can’t eavesdrop on others’ conversations…”

“But Imosen wasn’t talking to Melani and the others, he was punishing them… Why does no one believe me?” Beldina argued, her cheeks puffed out.

Victor was silent for a long moment before saying with a straight face, “We’ll discuss this issue later… For now, let’s play a game.” He took a leather pouch from a drawer. “It’s a simple game of drawing numbered wooden tags. We each draw once, and whoever draws the higher number wins. If you win, you can have a pastry. If you lose, I take one away.”

Beldina sat up straight, looking at Victor with pity, an ‘I’m a master gambler’ expression on her face that, combined with her chubby cheeks, was utterly hilarious.

Victor smiled faintly, passed the bag to the little gambling god, and gestured for her to draw first. Beldina reached into the leather pouch and pulled out a wooden tag with the number 12.

That was a high card!

The rules of the game were simple. The wooden tags were nearly identical in material and size, with a number painted on one side. There was only one number 14 tag, two number 13s, three number 12s, and so on. It was a game of high card, with equal stakes, and the higher number took all.

On the surface, this kind of gambling was fair, but it was actually a scam. Experienced gamblers could judge the number on a tag by the slight raised texture of the paint. The house shark would use a specific drawing order to ensure they never lost. But the players weren’t all suckers; they demanded that each draw take no more than two seconds, or it would be considered cheating.

To draw a winner-takes-all high card in two seconds was a true test of a gambler’s skill.

Skill was the one thing Victor didn’t lack. His slender hand stirred lightly inside the bag, plucked out the number 13 tag, and then he placed a pastry back into the basket.

Beldina’s eyes widened, and her mouth, missing three front teeth, fell open. Victor gloated inwardly… How could I not take you down a peg?

“Again.”

The two of them went back and forth, thoroughly enjoying the game. After two more rounds, not a single pastry was left on the table. A small portion had gone into Beldina’s stomach, but most had been returned to the basket by Victor.

Although Beldina drew high cards almost every time, with the lowest being a 9, she still lost more than she won overall.

This wasn’t the result Victor wanted. He had a faint feeling that the pastries weren’t a strong enough incentive for Beldina.

When did the utterly charming little girl ever have a shortage of treats?

“Bel, you need to lose some weight!”

Victor tapped the table with a serious expression and said solemnly, “Starting today, your daily snacks and pastries are cut in half…” Before Beldina could start wailing, he added, “Don’t cry, my little darling. I’ll give you a chance. We’ll play one more round, thirteen draws. If you can beat me, your snacks and treats will remain the same. How about it?”

Beldina rubbed her eyes, reached her little hand into the leather pouch, and pulled out a tag.

Fourteen! A clean sweep!

Victor didn’t even need to draw. He gestured for Beldina to continue.

Fourteen again!

Still fourteen!

And still fourteen…

Beldina had drawn the winner-takes-all 14 five times in a row.

For the next eight draws, it was Victor’s turn to go first. He reached in and drew a 13. Beldina drew a 14.

Beldina had now won six rounds in a row. If she won one more, Victor would lose… Picking out the only number 14 tag from a large bag of them within two seconds was no easy feat, even for Victor.

He decisively entered the Apocalypse state. X-3 operated at full power. The flow of time slowed by more than a factor of ten, his Perception doubled, and the diameter of his Blind Sense expanded to three meters. In Victor’s eyes, Beldina was placing the number 14 tag back into the bag at an extremely slow speed, then shaking the pouch. The crisp clacking of the number 14 tag against the others was recorded and processed by X-3, forming an image in Victor’s mind. When the sound stopped, Victor had isolated a general area. He reached his hand into the pouch, and the image in his mind grew clearer with the sensation from his fingertips. Irrelevant data like temperature and humidity faded, while the minute differences in hardness and shape of the various tags were highlighted. After identifying the number 14 tag, his sense of touch memorized its characteristics.

Fourteen! Fourteen again! Always fourteen…

Victor drew the number 14 tag six times in a row. On the final, decisive round, Beldina’s little face was tense. She shook the leather pouch with all her might. The shaking went on and on… there was no time limit for shaking the bag, after all.

When Beldina was red-faced and panting, she finally set the pouch down. Victor calmly reached inside, found the number 14 tag, but deliberately pulled out the number 11 next to it.

Upon seeing the number 11, Beldina visibly relaxed, but then her little eyebrows furrowed. She looked torn, lacking confidence. Muttering a prayer to the Supreme Lord, she reached in and drew a tag. The number on it was 13.

“I won! I won! I won…” Little Bel raised her hands high, jumping and dancing around the study.

Victor shook his head and chuckled. As if he would ever really reduce the little foodie’s snacks. Beldina walked up to Victor, lifted the hem of her skirt, and curtsied, saying very, very seriously, “Master should keep his promise.”

“I keep my promises,” Victor said with a smiling nod.

“That’s great, that’s great! Bel likes Master the best.”

Beldina let out a cheer, climbed onto Victor’s lap, hugged his face, and planted a kiss on his cheek.

Victor wiped away the little chubster’s saliva with a handkerchief, set her down, and patted her head dotingly. “Go on and play. The pastry basket is yours too… But you can’t tell anyone about today’s game. Can you do that?”

“Bel is the best at keeping secrets,” Beldina promised, patting her chest. She picked up the pastry basket and happily skipped out of the study.

Victor stroked his chin and unconsciously drew a wooden tag from the bag. His pupils contracted in an instant. He opened his palm, and there it was—the highest card, the number 14!

He hadn’t used any extraordinary abilities at all this time!

Victor tried a few more times, and every tag he drew was a 14. He thought for a moment, then said in his mind, “I want a number 13 tag.”

Then, he casually drew a 13.

“I want an 11.”

He drew an 11… Victor tested this nine consecutive times before the wish-fulfillment effect finally ended.

X-3 recorded the following: Beldina, suspected Wizard, possesses three unverified extraordinary talents. First, Longevity: Beldina’s physical and mental development is slow, and her appetite is voracious. No signs of weakness have been detected to date. Second, Charm: Beldina has an ordinary but innocent and cute appearance, and possesses a startling affinity for intelligent life and animals. Third, Luck: Beldina’s luck places her in states beneficial to herself, almost to the point of interfering with reality. However, the effect is directly proportional to the intensity of her emotions; the greater her desire, the stronger the effect. Additionally, her luck talent can be transferred to others. The first observed transfer lasted for 23 seconds. Further data is required. It must be noted that the luck talent’s priority is lower than absolute power. When the probability of an event’s outcome is 100%, Beldina’s luck is ineffective. It does not cause a true alteration of reality, such as making the opponent have illusions, make mistakes, or cause various accidents to change the outcome. Therefore, Beldina’s talent has significant limitations. In a critical situation, she would most likely be killed.

Victor finished the entry for X-3 and began pacing the room excitedly, striking his fist into his palm as a wild idea came to him:

Holy hell, this is incredible! What is this? Is Beldina a Child of Fortune, or a Child of the Plane? Does she come with her own protagonist’s halo? No, no… Since I am her Master and she is my little retainer, then I must be the protagonist… Right, I have the protagonist’s halo, and Beldina has the luck aura, haha…

Good grief, I’ve been so foolish. Imosen’s ability is powerful, but with his weak mentality, how could he possibly have survived in the perilous Great Marsh? It must have been Beldina’s luck aura shielding him… That bastard, the story he told me back then was probably fake too! Later, I’ll have Barol take some men to the Randt Imperial territory to investigate Imosen’s background.

In a world with gods, the appearance of Beldina and Father Miller by my side is probably no accident… In fact, I’m not some protagonist at all. It was just by a twist of fate that I became the inheritor of the Alchemical Empire’s legacy… The struggle involving the gods is about to begin, so it’s only natural that forces of the same faction would gather together.

That’s right, we are human… Knights, Wizards, clergy, and mortals are all remnants of the Alchemical Empire. Our enemy is the mastermind who destroyed the Alchemical Empire!

I’m not alone! But… do I still count as human? If I become an elf… where will my loyalties lie?

Victor gradually calmed down, reining in his chaotic thoughts. He sat back in his chair, staring blankly into space. He looked at the wooden tag in his hand, and inspiration suddenly struck. He murmured, “‘That which is never forgotten will surely be echoed; that which is tirelessly sought will surely be rewarded…’ A wish come true… After the fire of the mind comes the Touch of the Mind, and after that, there is another realm, the power of the mind that can interfere with reality… Wizardry interferes with reality. The Chosen, the God-favored, those chosen and favored by the gods… In the domain of holy light, is our Lord truly supreme?”

Faith is actually the power of the mind of the believers! The Lord of Radiance collects the power of the mind from his followers and converts it into holy light and divine arts… Victor shot to his feet, a golden brilliance flashing in his eyes before quickly dimming.

“I understand… The third realm of the power of the mind can break through one’s own limitations and interfere with reality.”

“It should be called the Light of the Mind!”

At that moment, the familiar sound of footsteps echoed from the corridor outside the study, interrupting Victor’s thoughts. An image of Lilia in her high-heeled shoes formed in his mind.

Chapter 462: The Ability to Suffer a Loss

Lilia’s footsteps stopped at the doorway. A few seconds later, the oak door was pushed open, and a slender, graceful, beautiful silhouette entered Victor’s sight.

She wore an orange-red spider silk dress and matching calfskin high heels that accentuated the smooth, gentle curves of her feminine form. Her hair was styled in an elegant noblewoman’s updo, revealing a long, snow-white neck. A black veil hung over her face, concealing everything below her eyes. A pair of bright, charming eyes looked at Victor with a mix of shyness and joy, tinged with a hint of playful resentment.

After more than six months apart, Lilia missed Victor dearly, but she wanted even more to show her husband her most perfect self. Yet Victor had to summon her at this very moment… her teeth hadn’t even fully grown in yet. Couldn’t he have waited a few more months? It was so infuriating.

“My dear, come and sit,” Victor said with a smile, patting his own thigh.

Lilia was petite and usually loved to sit on Victor’s lap. Seeing her husband’s warm smile, her heart sweetened. She walked over with a bewitching gait, wrapped her arms around Victor’s neck, and sat down. Turning her face to the side, she pleaded in a soft, quiet voice, “Darling, please don’t take off my veil…”

Victor nearly burst out laughing. With his extraordinary vision, the black veil on Lilia’s face was practically non-existent. But considering the young woman’s pride, he chose to see through it without saying a word. Well, to win a lady’s favor, one must first learn to attend to their feelings.

Gently massaging Lilia’s smooth, well-proportioned calves, Victor chuckled in a low voice, “My dear, we haven’t seen each other in months, and your legs have gotten longer. Your skin is even more delicate and soft… and especially your eyes, as clear and pure as a baby’s… Darling, you look absolutely beautiful.”

Lilia’s eyes instantly curved into crescent moons. “Really?” she asked, delighted.

“Absolutely,” Victor affirmed with a firm nod.

“That’s good…” Lilia breathed a sigh of relief, then added in a coquettish tone, “You have no idea how painful it was when my body was being reshaped. Every bone and muscle in my body was torn and shredded, bit by bit. It was both painful and itchy. I wanted to move but couldn’t, wanted to die but couldn’t, and my mind was exceptionally clear… Fortunately, it was all worth it, but I never want to go through that a second time.”

Victor tightened his arm around Lilia’s slender waist as a sign of comfort and asked, “How did you get through it?”

Lilia thought for a moment, then said slowly, “It was very painful at first, but later on, I lost all feeling. It was as if my soul was replaced by a spark of white-gold fire. Then, I broke free from my restraints and could move freely within my own body, adjusting the healing of my muscles and bones according to my will…” She suddenly blushed and said resentfully, “I wished for stronger bones and tougher muscles… and maybe a slightly higher nose, longer legs, and a little bit bigger chest… When I used up all my strength, I fell asleep. How was I supposed to know that reshaping my body would also mean losing my baby teeth?”

In Huaxia, there was a folk belief that if a pregnant woman looked at photos of beautiful babies, her own baby would be beautiful too. While this saying has no scientific basis, it represents the wonderful wishes of parents. However, a mother-to-be’s mood is closely related to her hormone levels, and her mood can indeed affect the healthy development of the fetus.

Throughout the history of Earth’s civilization, materialism and idealism have existed as two completely different philosophical concepts. But no one denies the powerful driving force of subjective will. For instance, the Huaxian fable of The Foolish Old Man who Moved Mountains is a classic tale of wishes creating miracles. The Great Wall, built by the ancestors of Huaxia, is a real-world miracle. To give more specific examples, those ageless goddesses and fitness gurus, driven by their own strong desires and paying a price that ordinary people can hardly bear, ultimately achieve their goals.

To dare to think and to dare to act; where there’s a will, there’s a way. This was, in fact, a basic application of the power of the mind by humanity on Earth, from which a rich and colorful civilization was born. Some of it became scientific reality, like spacecraft landing on the moon; some became mythological fantasy, like the Golden Toad Mystic Form, which pursued Oneness with nature, longevity, and immortality.

The Laws of this world were different from Earth’s. Victor couldn’t even dream of high-tech things like airplanes and cannons, but the Golden Toad Mystic Form might actually be useful.

In this world, the power of the mind led directly to the extraordinary. It could make Lilia young and beautiful; make Narsen as strong as an ox, with his mind and body as one; allow Tournans to foresee danger and even twist an opponent’s mental senses; enable Imosen to alter the souls and bodies of animals; let Beldina be blessed by fortune; allow Father Miller to save the dying; and let Sylvia kill an ordinary person with just a glance.

The power of the mind held infinite possibilities and was divided into three realms: the fire of the mind, the Touch of the Mind, and the Light of the Mind. Tournans, who had mastered the Touch of the Mind, was already one of humanity’s top powerhouses, and he was currently exploring the realm of the Light of the Mind. That was clearly the legendary Saint realm, capable of rivaling Spirit Knights.

In other words, the Saint realm was definitely a height that humans could reach.

This conclusion greatly encouraged Victor.

Strictly speaking, the Golden Toad Mystic Form was also a secret art for cultivating the power of the mind, and the final realm it described was precisely the Light of the Mind.

Victor had been persistently practicing the Golden Toad Mystic Form but had yet to achieve a breakthrough. This could be due to differences in the world’s Laws, meaning the Mystic Form needed modification, or it could be because of his elven bloodline, or perhaps X-3.

However, the fact that the Alchemy Tower could generate the Golden Toad Mystic Form skill was enough to prove its value and potential.

Alchemical humans can’t cultivate the Golden Toad Mystic Form, and the Wind Walk Archers have hit a bottleneck, but that doesn’t mean it’s ineffective for ordinary humans or Knights… If I borrow from the cultivation results of others and improve the Golden Toad Mystic Form, could I also reach the realm of the Light of the Mind? Even if the effects of the Golden Toad Mystic Form have been artificially exaggerated, it might be able to ignite a cultivator’s fire of the mind! And what if Narsen uses it to reach the realm of the Touch of the Mind? Then I’d have hit the jackpot… The more Victor thought about it, the more excited he became, wishing he could immediately summon the young death commandos secretly trained by the family and form a “Golden Toad Mystic Form training camp.”

Seeing Victor’s rapturous expression, Lilia couldn’t help but giggle. “Darling, you look even happier than I am.”

The Golden Toad Mystic Form was a matter of great importance; the fewer people who knew about it, the better. Victor wasn’t even planning to share this secret with Sylvia. Lilia was just an ordinary person; before the experiments yielded results, she could not be involved.

Victor reined in his thoughts and turned his attention back to Lilia. He brought his lips to her ear and teased in a low voice, “Of course… Tonight, you’ll keep me company.”

Lilia was startled. She was about to object, but then she saw Victor’s incredibly handsome face and the tender affection in his eyes. Her heart began to pound like a frightened deer. She lowered her head and stammered, “Then… then no candles.”

For a Wind Walk Archer, what difference did it make whether a candle was lit or not?

Victor chuckled to himself, nodded, and changed the subject. “How are the few things I assigned you before I left coming along?”

Lilia cleared her throat and said seriously, “In the first two months of last year’s Season of Water, I mobilized more than thirty thousand hired laborers to reclaim and plant eighty thousand mu of wheat and one hundred thousand mu of ground-potatoes on the east side of the Silvermoon River. We built nine large new farms, taking in a total of over eight thousand five hundred refugees. Bishop Pello expressed his satisfaction with the Randall family’s benevolence.”

“We currently have two hundred and eighty thousand mu of wheat fields, three hundred thousand mu of ground-potato fields, and three hundred thousand mu of fallow land. The terraced fields are not included in this count.”

“We’ve finally started developing the land on the east bank of the Silvermoon River,” Victor sighed. “Once we have the ring canal and settlements, the rest will be easy… Well done.”

The Randell Fief’s cultivated land was mainly concentrated on the west side of the Silvermoon River. The east side still had large tracts of undeveloped land. With the construction of the ring canal, the fief’s population and farms could expand to the east bank. It was estimated that within five years, the fief’s cultivated area would exceed two million mu. Based on a three-year crop rotation system, two million mu of land could support at least six hundred thousand people, which was almost half of the entire registered population of the Kingdom of Gambia.

“The east bank needs a castle and a small town,” Lilia gently reminded him.

“That… will happen. Aren’t we short of stone for building castles right now? Let’s wait a little longer. The Iron bricks will be ready soon,” Victor said, waving his hand dismissively, a headache coming on. Building a castle would cost a huge amount of money, and he would rather use that money to produce a few more Alchemical Dragon-Lizards.

“Then we can build the town first. Darling, give it a name…” Lilia insisted.

Victor thought for a moment and said, “How about East Canal Town?”

“That’s very good.” Lilia nodded with a smile, then continued, “Lord Boris of House Sorim, who is Brandon and Shirley’s father…”

Victor interrupted her, emphasizing, “Boris is not Brandon and Shirley’s father now, nor will he be in the future. Those two children belong to the House of Randell.”

“I misspoke,” Lilia said, adopting Victor’s tone. “The heir of House Sorim, Lord Boris, in accordance with the agreement signed with you, sold eighty tons of soft silver ore to Laketon at the price of stone. Processing this ore requires a large amount of charcoal, so I placed an additional order for four hundred tons of charcoal from the Four-leaf Clover Merchant Guild.”

“Transporting so many materials to Laketon for processing is a bit of a hassle. I suggest we build a freight yard and an ore roasting yard in East Canal Town. We can process the soft silver ore into chunks first, then transport it back to Laketon to build the town’s inner wall.”

At that moment, Victor wanted to laugh out loud. Eighty tons of raw Thorium ore could be refined into at least eight hundred pounds of Class-I pure Thorium, enough to forge four hundred sets of Thorium cavalry equipment. The Alchemy Tower’s exchange price for Class-I Thorium was one hundred and twenty Gold Sols per pound, but its actual value was far greater. Once the human kingdoms began using Thorium equipment, the price of Thorium ore would likely be comparable to that of Adamantine ore. And the price House Sorim had sold the Thorium ore to Victor for was the stone price of thirty Gold Sols per ton.

“Do as you suggest,” Victor said with a nod.

Lilia shot Victor a sidelong glance and continued, “Three months ago, Adjudicator Master Yukar arrived in Laketon with one hundred and four missionaries. These missionaries will serve as tutors in the general education schools of the Randell Fief…”

Victor sensed Lilia’s faint resentment and frowned. “Is there a problem?”

“No problem at all,” Lilia said with a gentle smile. “According to the statistics from Laketon’s Administrative Office, there are a total of eight thousand seven hundred and sixty-six children between the ages of four and eight in the Randell and Phoenix Fiefs. We will need to build more than twenty schools for general education. Then, we also have to cover the costs of food and lodging for these children, as well as the annual salaries of the missionaries.”

Lilia revealed her true intentions. She held out her small hand to Victor and declared lightly, “Give me money.”

Victor hesitated. “Is… is there no money left in the family treasury?”

“There are still one hundred and seventy thousand Gold Sols in the treasury.” Lilia sighed and shook her head. “Building East Canal Town costs money, mining the soft silver ore and buying charcoal costs money, roasting the ore costs money, building Laketon’s inner wall costs money, building the schools costs money… Also, you promised the Church you would cover the construction costs of Laketon’s cathedral. Father Miller pesters me every day now, asking when construction on the cathedral will begin. Oh, right, Narsen came to see me yesterday, saying something about how the House of Randell is about to fight the Fishman War and the soldiers’ pay needs to be doubled…” Lilia raised her voice and sneered, “Heh, double the pay for three thousand eight hundred soldiers? Do I need to prepare extra compensation funds as well?”

Victor felt his head swell. “That should still be enough, shouldn’t it…” he said cautiously. “Otherwise, I have some here. I can take it out for the emergency?”

“How much?” Lilia asked, her eyes narrowed at Victor.

“Eight thousand Gold Sols.”

Victor decisively reported a fraction of his total. The one hundred and sixty thousand Gold Sols of private savings he had were for feeding the Alchemy Tower.

“You keep it,” Lilia huffed, her face etched with worry. “The money in the treasury can hold out for now, but our financial income is decreasing. If this continues, I’m afraid we’ll be spending more than we’re earning…” She looked up, gazing into Victor’s eyes, and said seriously, “With the completion of the main canal in the Randell Fief, the business rights for green bricks were handed over to Goldwater City. The green bricks we produce can only be for our own use, so we’ve lost a huge chunk of income… Our raw sugar used to sell for six Copper Sols per pound, but now we sell it to the Two-headed Lizard Merchant Guild for only four Copper Sols, while the market price for raw sugar has risen by thirty percent! Besides raw sugar, the Randell Fief’s carriages, pork, beef, mutton, oilcloth, flax cloth, bristle brushes, sheepskin, soap, straw paper, and other goods are all sold to the Two-headed Lizard Merchant Guild at lower prices. Last year, our financial income was ninety-three thousand Gold Sols, and raw sugar sales accounted for sixty-three thousand of that. This year’s income probably won’t exceed seventy thousand.”

Victor understood at once. He asked with a knowing smile, “You think we suffered a loss by joining the Two-headed Lizard Merchant Guild?”

Lilia said nothing, which was a tacit admission.

“Suffering a loss is a fortunate thing. All my efforts have been in order to have the ability to suffer a loss,” Victor said with emotion.

Lilia looked at her husband, bewildered, and reached out to touch his forehead… he didn’t have a fever.

Victor caught Lilia’s soft, smooth hand and said with a smile, “You can think of ‘suffering a loss’ as the ability to bear risks. Having the ability to bear risks is, of course, a good thing… Five years ago, we were dirt poor; back then, we absolutely could not afford to suffer a loss. For the poor to suffer a loss means to starve to death! That’s why when Lady Sylvia let slip that she might raise grain prices, I furiously went to her door and made the agreement with Rose Manor to trade Purple Cane wine for food and supplies. Now,呵呵, no one can force me to submit by raising grain prices. This is the House of Randell’s ability to ‘suffer a loss’!”

“Back when the Centaur Hills was building its water project, Rose Manor couldn’t even spare a single copper coin. That’s why the lords of the York family agreed to give the monopoly on green bricks to the Randell Fief. But for something like green bricks, the profit from selling them early versus selling them late is completely different! The House of Randell sold the bricks first, built the canals and reservoirs, and took full advantage. But the other lords of the Centaur Hills are still struggling. Take our old friend Bruce, for example. His family’s net income is only five thousand Gold Sols a year, and that’s including the six thousand Gold Sol annual tribute that Duke York subsidizes him with.”

“We’re grasshoppers on the same rope; no matter how strong an individual is, they can’t jump far alone. For both emotional and logical reasons, we should help our companions get rich. Otherwise, they will only drag us down.”

“So Bruce is that poor…” Lilia quietly stuck out her tongue and said sheepishly, “Darling, I’m sorry. I was wrong.”

Victor shook his head and chuckled. “When you truly have the ability to suffer a loss, you’ll find it’s hard to suffer one even if you want to!”

“Why?” Lilia asked curiously.

Victor said calmly, “When you have the ability to suffer a loss, no one will dare make you suffer a loss for nothing. Not unless they can kill you in one blow… Instead of going to all that trouble, they would be better off befriending you. On the other hand, those who can’t afford to suffer a loss will act recklessly, but their capabilities are negligible. If they dare to bare their fangs at you, just strike them down.”

“Isn’t that just like our relationship with the Chapman family?”

Lilia let out a giggle, the veil fluttering. She quickly held it down and chuckled, “The Young Lady of the Chapman family has now become your lover.”

Victor smiled. “The Chapman family and us are also grasshoppers on the same rope. If we can’t stop the Ant-man tide, the Chapman family will suffer along with us… But let’s talk about the Two-headed Lizard Merchant Guild.”

“The Two-headed Lizard Merchant Guild engages in centralized procurement and purchasing. As major shareholders in the guild, we also benefit. The Randell Fief doesn’t sell green bricks anymore, but we get a share from any bricks sold by any lord of the York family. We gave up some profit on raw sugar, but we got the profit from Purple Cane wine back. The York family is about to start selling refined iron externally, which will be another considerable source of income… You’ll see, when the dividends are paid at the end of the year, Duke York will give us a surprise. The House of Randell’s future financial income will only increase, not decrease!”

Lilia was overjoyed. She nodded vigorously and said, “Darling, you’re right… Besides the Two-headed Lizard Merchant Guild, we also have The Golden Company.”

“The Golden Company…” Victor rubbed his nose, a strange expression on his face. “There have been changes with The Golden Company as well… Go and call Narsen, Baritt, Barol, and Tao De here. We’ll discuss the matter of The Golden Company in detail.”

“No! I don’t want to see them…” Lilia turned pale with fright. She quickly stood up from Victor’s lap and walked towards the study door. Before leaving, she glanced back with a smile, her voice soft and charming. “Tonight, you can tell me alone.”

Chapter 463: Take Your Pick

Narsen led Tao De and the others into the study of Laketon Castle, where they saw the black-haired, black-eyed Viscount Randell, whose features were as exquisitely carved as a sculpture.

The group bowed to their liege lord in unison. Victor waved a hand and said in a gentle voice, “No need for formalities. Please, have a seat.” His gaze first turned to Narsen, and he teased, “Let me start by congratulating Lord Narsen on his new marriage.”

Narsen’s old face flushed red. He scratched the back of his head and said sheepishly, “Thank you, My Lord.”

Not long after he returned to the Randell Fief from Stonetooth City, Duke York and My Lady Katerina had selected a young and beautiful common noblewoman and sent her to Laketon to be the lord’s personal handmaiden. Narsen now had one wife and three personal handmaidens: Linda, Joanna, Laveta, and Laika.

A noble marrying a personal handmaiden did not hold a wedding ceremony. Their union was blessed by Father Miller at the Laketon Church and officially registered, thus giving them a legal marital relationship. Nicole, representing Victor, presented a generous gift and personally attended Narsen’s family banquet.

Victor paid attention to Narsen’s family because his domestic situation was a reflection of the unique political ecosystem of the Randell Fief.

A lordship of three hundred square kilometers was enough to make many knight-nobles green with envy, and Narsen had thus won the favor of many a noblewoman. Ordinarily, a newly invested lord ought to focus his energy on his fief and his family, marrying his four companions as soon as possible so they could manage the fief, bear heirs, and raise the next generation to lay the foundation for the family’s future. However, Narsen’s situation was unique. He and Linda had very few loyal and reliable followers, and the main population of his lordship consisted almost entirely of refugee workers. Furthermore, Narsen and Linda had no savings and had no choice but to hold important posts in Laketon, collecting an annual stipend to maintain the dignity of a lord’s household. Besides, they had to safeguard Lilia’s position, which made it even more impossible for them to leave the center of power in the Randell Fief.

Lord Narsen had neither money nor men, so he could only entrust the management of his fief to Viscount Randell. With Laketon managing the refugee workers in the lordship, Narsen had become a land-owning noble of the Randell Fief.

Katerina had originally intended to select a female apprentice knight of a refined Bloodline to give to Narsen, the military leader of the Randell Fief. She had wanted to use a marriage alliance to strengthen the military ties between Goldwater City and Laketon. But Nicole had beaten her to it, marrying the secret knight Laveta to Narsen. Victor and his army could now be considered a core armed force of Rose Manor, on par with Goldwater City’s Fanged Legion. Duke York’s faction naturally abandoned its initial plan.

Victor’s proposal of the tenant system in Goldwater City was exactly what Duke York had been itching for. A liege lord could grant land, but was absolutely unwilling to delegate power. The tenant system, in effect, stripped a lordship of its autonomy, because the tenants were directly managed by the upper liege lord and were not considered the lord’s subjects. Victor would not allow a noblewoman from the York family to change the status quo of Lord Narsen’s fief, and Duke York also hoped that the Randell Fief could set a successful example for this reform.

The two sides hit it off immediately, and Goldwater City arranged for a politically weak and isolated personal handmaiden for Narsen.

Narsen’s family represented the future direction of the Leasehold Employment System—a fief-based centralized system.

The so-called fief-based centralized system meant that ownership of the fief belonged to the noble, while the right to rule the fief belonged to the central authority. For instance, if the young knight Klaus served in the army and helped the House of Randell conquer vast territories, Victor would reward him based on his merits, investing him as a Baron and selecting various plots of land from different provinces to make up the one hundred fifty square kilometers granted to Klaus. Baron Klaus would create his own family, but he could only lease his land to tenants and would have to continue serving in a military post. Klaus’s knight’s conviction would transform from protecting his family and fief to protecting his family and the kingdom. And a council of nobles would satisfy the great knight-nobles’ need for political participation.

In reality, the fief-based centralized system was nothing new. Back in the Golden Age, the political model of several knight families co-ruling a city-state and its vast territories was a form of centralized system. The investiture of court nobles by kings in the Bronze Age also had a shadow of a centralized system. However, the fief-based centralized system was good at offense but poor at defense. In the Silver Age, because mortal armies could not keep pace with knights, knight families suffered heavy casualties, and the centralized system was consequently eliminated by history. Of course, the Pope’s actions to hold things back was also a contributing factor.

Under the feudal system, knight-lords established states within their fiefs, supporting each other in layers of protection. Even if a certain knight family was crushed by beastmen, it would not cause a devastating blow to the entire knightly class of the kingdom. The defeated still had the chance to draw on their bloodline and stage a comeback.

For thousands of years, knight-nobles and noble clergy had been dedicated to enhancing the combat effectiveness of mortal armies. Victor’s emergence provided an opportunity to shift from defense to offense. The feudal system, which was more than adequate for defense but lacking in initiative, was destined to be replaced by a centralized system once more.

The deeply entrenched feudal ideology was now the greatest obstacle to the liege lords’ reforms.

Those who didn’t understand still didn’t, and those who did pretended to be oblivious. Everyone was eagerly watching Viscount Randell be the first to eat the crab.

Victor’s decision to start with the lordships was an absolutely brilliant move.

The vast majority of liege lords wanted to seize power over the lordships, so there was no resistance to the tenant system. If a lordship was a small crab, then a barony was a jumbo crab—delicious, but troublesome. As for giant crabs like viscounties and earldoms… not troublesome, but fatal.

Therefore, the House of Randell’s conditions were uniquely favorable. While other powerful lords were still battling the giant crabs in their own homes, Victor would likely have already feasted on crabs until he became a behemoth.

Victor looked at Narsen, Tao De, Baritt, and Barol as if they were four little crabs, and his heart bloomed with joy. He said with a grin, “Lord Narsen, you have a wife now, and an heir. You can start designing your own family crest… What do you think of a crab?”

“A crab?”

Narsen shook his head like a pellet drum and said in a booming voice, “Crabs don’t look good. I still prefer a bear.”

A bear with two big crab claws… Victor pushed the comical image from his mind and turned to the slightly aged Baritt, nodding. “Baritt, it’s been a long time. It must have been hard roughing it with the Bear Company… Now that you’re back, take good care of your health. I’ve prepared two of Aerie Fortress’s secret Goldensun Potions for you. If you want to stay in the Randell Fief, then hand over the Bear Company’s affairs. Narsen could use a hand here.”

Baritt stepped forward, placed a hand on his chest, and bowed. “Thank you for your concern, My Lord. My body can still hold up…” He gave a wry smile and said in a low voice, “The Bear Company has about a thousand men now, and they all call me Father Baritt… I’d be truly reluctant to leave them behind.”

“Oh, that’s right.” The old Instructor straightened his back and said, his spirits perking up, “I married three women, and they gave me a son and a daughter. My little boy is only a year old. I’ve brought him back and would like to entrust him to Narsen’s care.”

Victor gave Baritt a deep look and asked pensively, “What is his name?”

“Master, his name is Wolf,” Baritt replied with the utmost respect.

The main force of the Bear Company was composed of Alchemical humans, so Victor was not at all worried about losing control over it. But Baritt offering a son to show his loyalty was, in itself, proper etiquette. Victor had no reason to refuse, especially since Baritt’s land and property in the Randell Fief needed someone to inherit and oversee them.

“Wolf.” Victor nodded, his expression placid. “Then from this day forward, Wolf is your heir. Lord Narsen and his wife will serve as his guardians.”

“Yes.” Baritt visibly relaxed and stepped back to his seat.

Victor’s gaze swept to another seat. Tao De immediately stood up, his eyes steady, yet concealing a hidden excitement.

“Tao De, I’m very curious. You had a chance to escape in Stonetooth City. Why didn’t you leave alone, or seek refuge with the Dwemic family? Were you not afraid that I would silence you by killing you?”

“My lord, I have always demanded of myself to be a knight,” Tao De said in a low voice, bowing his head.

Victor’s eyes flickered, noncommittal. He continued to ask, “When you evacuated Stonetooth City, you insisted on taking two waitresses with you?”

Tao De’s heart turned bitter. He braced himself and explained, “Those two women at the Lame Dog Inn helped me gather intelligence on the Masked Brotherhood… I couldn’t bear to implicate them… but I guarantee, they know nothing! Later, I gave them a sum of money and let them go.”

“Oh yes, they knew everything. They risked their lives for you, hoping one day to become the Ghostface Knight’s women…”

Victor shook his head with a sigh, tapped on the table, and said coldly, “The large-scale brawl in Stonetooth City caused thousands of casualties and created a huge uproar… Even if they didn’t know you did it, couldn’t they have guessed? The Golden Dawn Sparrow Earl was assassinated on the very same day as the brawl. If they couldn’t figure it out, do you think Marquess DeWeimik couldn’t figure it out either?”

“Those two waitresses have been captured by my men. I want you to go and kill them.” Victor stared at Tao De with profound eyes.

Tao De’s face went pale, and cold sweat beaded on his forehead. He dropped to his knees and said with a tremor in his voice, “My lord, I have made a mistake and am willing to accept any punishment. I will no longer make excuses for those two women… Although my hands are stained with blood, I… I cannot murder people who have genuinely helped me.”

A repressive silence instantly fell upon the study. Tao De, however, felt a sense of relief as he quietly awaited his lord’s judgment.

“Loyalty, humility, pride, mercy… Now I believe you are a knight.” Victor nodded and said with a smile, “You have rendered meritorious service to Quicksilver, but I have already rewarded you for that. That you are able to adhere to your principles, follow the Virtues of a knight, and treat those who help you with kindness is worthy of praise.”

“Welcome to the House of Randell, Tao De. Lord Randell.”

Tao De’s head snapped up, his Adam’s apple bobbed, and finally, he dropped to one knee and swore a solemn oath to Victor, “Tao De Randell is willing to die for my Master!”

Victor had no intention of making things difficult for Tao De, nor had he captured the two waitresses. His test was merely a method of managing his subordinate.

Birds of a feather flock together; people are sorted into their own kinds. Nothing could inspire a subordinate’s loyalty more than their liege lord affirming their principles and character. If Tao De had obeyed Victor’s command and chosen to silence them, Victor would have just laughed, praised his loyalty, and then taken him into his service. However, in that case, Victor would have inevitably grown wary of Tao De.

Tao De was no good man; he had once used bloody means to suppress the mine slaves for Duke Erickson. But he also had a compassionate side. He had used two prostitutes to complete his mission, yet he had let them live, putting himself in a dangerous position. In a sense, both good and evil are flaws of humanity. It is flaws that lead to change, making humanity complex and full of vigorous life.

For a family, good and evil should not be the standard for judging its members. After all, someone has to do the dirty work. But a person without flaws, without principles, is destined to be an uncontrollable lone wolf. If he believes the family is a detriment to him, he will immediately turn on it.

Victor himself was soft-hearted, especially when it came to hurting women and children. In any case, he had a group of completely inhuman alchemical creatures. If he was truly pushed into a corner, then out of sight, out of mind. When the refugees had stormed the Randell Fief, the Alchemical Warhounds had bitten to death some of the old, the weak, women, and children.

As for those two waitresses, letting them go was no big deal. When it came to matters like assassinating a knight-noble and inciting a refugee riot, who would demand evidence from a liege lord? If Marquess DeWeimik used two lower-class people to accuse Viscount Randell, Victor could immediately find two hundred lower-class people to counter him. If House DeWeimik actually did that, they would only become a laughingstock.

Tao De’s choice was in line with Victor’s own moral aesthetic. In fact, the concepts of clan and family in this other world’s human society placed special emphasis on treating women and children with preferential care.

Victor was also deeply influenced by this, and he now found Tao De rather likable.

“Rise,” Victor said pleasantly. “I hear the Shadow of the Mask you captured is a Wizard?”

Tao De rose to his feet, recounting the details of his encounter with the Wizard with lingering fear. He concluded, “Fortunately, the Elite Guards secretly trained by the family are not afraid of that Wizard. Otherwise, both Barol and I would have died at their hands.”

Narsen couldn’t help asking, “Are Wizards that powerful?”

“It’s not that he was powerful.” Tao De shook his head and explained, “I was dazed for a moment, and the Wizard’s Shadow Warriors had more than enough time to kill me several times over.”

Victor glanced at Narsen and said in a deep voice, “This is related to the power of the mind. That level of Wizardry shouldn’t be able to affect you.”

Narsen gave a dry laugh, while the other three wore worried expressions. The fact that there was a Wizard behind the Masked Brotherhood, and possibly more than one, made the problem extremely thorny.

Victor was unwilling to discuss the details further and instead asked, “Did you collect the crystal fragments from the Wizard’s body?”

Barol took a small pouch from his waist and respectfully placed it on the desk.

Victor picked up the pouch, weighed it in his hand, and casually tossed it into a drawer. He said impassively, “Tao De, I will now give you two choices.”

“This Season of Fire, the House of Randell will launch the Fishman War, which will last for several years. You can choose to join the mercenary Legion, under the command of Lord Narsen, and lead a five-hundred-man infantry regiment to carry out the mission of clearing out the Fishmen on the tidal flats. When the war is over, I will reward you based on your merits.”

“Or you can continue to serve in Quicksilver, but you will have to lead men to the Kingdom of Sus to expand Quicksilver’s periphery. You will definitely clash with the Masked Brotherhood… Choosing Quicksilver carries great risk. If you can complete the mission of expanding Quicksilver’s periphery, the position of Quicksilver’s leader will be yours!”

Narsen laughed heartily and clapped Tao De on the shoulder. “Your swordsmanship is quite good, kid, perfect for dealing with those Savage Fishmen. Join our mercenary Legion! As long as you distinguish yourself in battle, I’ll recommend you to command your own army. How about a future conquering new territories for My Lord?”

Tao De’s heart pounded. He turned his head and saw Barol’s eyes lowered, not saying a word. He instantly hesitated again.

Narsen’s power was too great. Working under him, he would always be overshadowed. Quicksilver, though dangerous, was the Master’s most trusted confidant. The House of Randell had the miraculous Gold Potion and secret art death commandos who could resist Wizards. They had eliminated a Silver Knight from a great family from thousands of kilometers away. Even Lord Narsen and the Bear Company had to obey Quicksilver’s orders. The potential of Quicksilver was staggering. If I join Quicksilver, the Master might even help me advance further… The more Tao De thought about it, the more excited he became. His blood boiled, and his eyes shone like burning flames. He stepped forward and said, “Master, I am willing to go to the Kingdom of Sus!”

“Good.” Victor nodded, looking Tao De up and down before speaking. “The scar on your face has to go, and your physique and appearance will also have to be changed. I will arrange for you to undergo a Sacred Warrior’s body reconstruction. This will not only give you a new lease on life, but also significantly enhance your physical prowess and power of the mind. You can use these next three months to learn various useful little tricks from the spies under Barol. Once you have completed all these preparations, you will head to the Kingdom of Sus. I will prepare for you six thousand Gold Sols, thirty Elite Guards, and forty secret art death commandos…”

Victor paused and turned to Barol. “How many men can Quicksilver spare?”

“My lord, we have over three hundred black market merchants in Gambis alone, and over six thousand peripheral enforcers who depend on them for a living.” The old spy said nonchalantly, “It’s no problem at all to pull seventy or eighty reliable hands. Black market merchants, swindlers, thieves, assassins, ruffians, women of the night… take your pick.”

Hearing Barol’s words, Narsen and the others were dumbfounded. Victor was silent for a long moment, then said furiously, “So that’s why the Golden Company makes no money… it’s supporting this many people!”

Chapter 464: The Investigation

“How many people does The Golden Company have now?”

Barol couldn’t say for sure. He was responsible for cultivating Quicksilver’s inner lines, who would then independently develop their own outer lines—the carriage drivers, gang enforcers, Black Market merchants, tavern owners, and general store proprietors who relied on The Golden Company to feed their families. Barol had been tied up in Stonetooth City, dealing with the Masked Brotherhood for some time, and Quicksilver’s inner lines in Gambis had been developing on their own. It was only after his return that he had begun to manage Quicksilver’s affairs in Gambis. The information he currently had was incomplete; all he knew was a rough estimate: seven to eight thousand outer-circle members, and that was a conservative figure.

Since Barol reported only to Victor, Lilia was also unaware of The Golden Company’s true size. Her domain was the smuggling caravans and the mountain strongholds. The total number of smuggling mercenaries and mountain folk was close to twenty thousand.

The Golden Company’s channels, end-points, and intelligence were all under separate command; Lilia and Barol, the two major heads, were ignorant of each other’s operations. The person who should have had the clearest picture of The Golden Company was its founder, Victor. But if even Barol couldn’t give a clear number for the outer-circle members, what could Victor possibly know?

He only knew that the profits generated by The Golden Company were a far cry from what he had expected.

He had originally thought that the three-and-a-half-year-old Golden Company was still a small dairy cow that needed careful nurturing… he never imagined it had already grown into a fat bull!

But where was the promised milk?

Viscount Randell decided to get to the bottom of two crucial questions:

Who took my money? And how did they do it?

And so, Barol, wiping sweat from his brow, gave an example:

Baron Schultz’s fief was rich in redwood, sedge-grass candles, and charcoal, but it lacked the herbs needed to concoct the Body-strengthening Potion: Red-vein grass, Blue-thorn berries, and Iron-ox flowers. The Golden Company’s smuggling caravans passed through the Schultz fief, and a Quicksilver inner line had developed an outer-line merchant in Redwood Town. This merchant would take candied fruit, soap, and various mountain goods from the smuggling caravans to sell. Among these goods were the very herbs the Schultz family desperately needed.

Once the outer-line merchant had made some money, he followed the inner line’s instructions and immediately purchased a carriage, leased two public transport routes, and made regular offerings to the Church. In doing so, he earned the protection of the revered Father.

As the public carriage routes connected to the Schultz fief, the volume of smuggled goods surged. Bulk commodities like pig lard, smoked meat, and oilcloth began to appear in Redwood Town’s market. This drew the attention of Baron Schultz. However, because the outer-line merchant had a good relationship with the Father and the goods he sold met the needs of the Schultz fief, the Baron refrained from using heavy-handed tactics and simply had someone investigate his background.

The investigation concluded that this freeman merchant had connected with carriage drivers from a neighboring fief and was using the public carriages to smuggle goods from Wildwillow City to sell for a profit in the Schultz fief.

The merchant and the carriage drivers colluding to resell goods and evade transit taxes was harming the neighboring fiefs, but the Schultz fief, in contrast, gained a new trade channel with relatively cheaper goods. Baron Schultz turned a blind eye to the audacious freeman merchant and even secretly protected him.

The outer-line merchant thrived. He kept more than twenty enforcers, acquired several shops, hired clerks and drivers, leased more public carriage routes, paid tribute to the Magistrate’s Office, and made offerings to the Church. He had, for all intents and purposes, become the top dog in Redwood Town.

However, things took an interesting turn. The villagers in the Schultz fief started mixing cheap pig lard with beef tallow to create a new kind of sedge-grass candle. It smelled awful, burned dimly, and didn’t last long, but its production cost was only one-fifth that of a tallow Greensage candle. The villagers originally made them for their own use, but the outer-line merchant saw a business opportunity. He began purchasing these mixed-oil candles in bulk for the price of two copper coins for five and resold them to other outer-line merchants in other fiefs for two copper coins for three. Since the outer-line merchant had begun exporting goods via public carriage, he naturally included other specialty products from the Schultz fief. And his purchase prices were considerably higher than what the caravans offered.

The Golden Company’s outer line was now exporting a rich variety of goods at low prices, while also purchasing local products at reasonable rates. Baron Schultz could hardly contain his glee. He chose to completely ignore the fact that the outer-line merchant was reselling goods from Wildwillow City via the public carriages.

The outer-line merchant had already formed deep connections of mutual interest with the local gang, the village head, the Magistrate’s Office, the Father, and even Baron Schultz himself. Killing the merchant would be simple, and replacing him would be easy, but this trade channel, which the refugee merchant had created spontaneously, could not be severed. Otherwise, the Schultz family’s losses would far exceed the revenue from collecting transit taxes.

Baron Schultz’s mixed-oil candles eventually lit up the shantytowns of Deepwater City, selling for two copper coins apiece.

The Quicksilver inner lines replicated this model, and now The Golden Company’s outer-line merchants were spread across every major town in the Kingdom of Gambia.

After hearing the explanation, Narsen, Baritt, and Tao De were utterly astonished. But in Victor’s mind, a single phrase appeared: savage growth.

The Quicksilver inner lines had pointed out a path to wealth, and the outer-line Black Market merchants had expanded The Golden Company all on their own. These merchants independently handled short-haul transport, warehousing, purchasing, sales, security, and all the other links in the chain. Every link required manpower, and behind every person were family and friends. This meant that The Golden Company’s current membership included twenty thousand mountain folk, more than three hundred unlicensed merchants, over six thousand enforcers, an equal number of clerks, and tens of thousands of family members.

With so many people feeding from The Golden Company’s trough, how much could possibly be left for the House of Randell?

Of course, this savage growth was in line with Victor’s initial vision. When the House of Randell was short on money and men, it was necessary to offer up profits to fully mobilize the refugees’ enthusiasm, using their financial and human resources to strengthen the entire organization. That was how The Golden Company had become a behemoth in just a few short years.

However, savage growth meant a loss of control.

In The Golden Company’s operational model, the Quicksilver inner lines hid behind the scenes, connecting with Black Market merchants and using the public transport network and various markets to distribute goods from the Randell Fief layer by layer. The House of Randell made money, and the smuggling caravans, minor lords, vassal village heads, and Black Market merchants all got their share of the profits. It also supported a large number of carriage drivers, gang enforcers, and shop clerks.

On the surface, it was a situation that pleased everyone, but the total annual economic activity generated by The Golden Company exceeded one million Gold Sols. Victor only received a small fraction of that profit. How could he be content? Take the candle business in the Schultz fief, for example. Victor wanted a piece of that meat, but he couldn’t even get a sip of the soup.

The candle business didn’t even pass through Victor’s hands, so of course he couldn’t get a piece of the meat. In reality, the Black Market merchants didn’t even know the name “The Golden Company,” nor did they know any “big boss” behind the scenes. They only wanted to curry favor with the local lords and priests. The worst part was, once the unlicensed merchants and minor lords joined forces and established their own public transport network, they would no longer rely on the mountain path channels opened by the smuggling caravans.

This would severely weaken Victor’s control over The Golden Company.

The Golden Company was vast and bloated, its organizational structure was loose, it had no unified pricing strategy, no control over costs at each stage, and no clear profit distribution plan. If an entrepreneur from Earth were to transmigrate to this world and see the state of The Golden Company, they would surely say: This thing would be better off going through bankruptcy and restructuring.

Victor spoke slowly, “I am very dissatisfied with The Golden Company’s current state!” He paused, then added, “We’re getting too little money.”

Narsen was taken aback and mumbled, “My lord, I think it’s not bad… Last year, I received three thousand Gold Sols!”

The Golden Company had an internal dividend distribution plan for the House of Randell. For the money earned by each smuggling caravan, all costs were first deducted, then Victor took half of the remainder, and the rest was distributed according to shares. The House of Randell currently had thirty-seven smuggling caravans. Last year’s net profit was sixty thousand Gold Sols. Narsen held a ten-percent share, so he received three thousand Gold Sols. Victor also gained an extra thirty thousand Gold Sols for his private savings. But this small sum was likely not even a fraction of a fraction of The Golden Company’s annual revenue.

Victor sighed and shook his head. “Would you be so happy if you knew The Golden Company’s total transaction volume last year exceeded a million Gold Sols?”

Narsen sucked in a sharp breath, exclaiming, “How could it be that much?”

“Hard to believe, isn’t it? The matters of commodity circulation are too complex for me to explain to you. You just need to know that nearly one hundred thousand people rely on The Golden Company to eat. That number shouldn’t be surprising!”

Victor counted on his fingers. “The Golden Company now has two trade channels: the mountain paths for valuable goods and the public carriages for reselling bulk supplies. In fact, the wealth created by the public carriage channel is more than ten times greater than that of the mountain paths! The lords, churches, village heads, unlicensed merchants, ruffian enforcers, carriage drivers, and shop clerks everywhere are all using both of The Golden Company’s trade channels to make money. But our income only comes from the smuggling caravans’ mountain path channel. The public transport channel doesn’t have half a copper coin to do with us!”

“I was the one who founded The Golden Company, yet they’re earning more than we are! Why is this happening?”

Victor looked around, his gaze finally landing on the old spy, Barol.

“Because most of the outer-line merchants don’t listen to us,” Barol replied, his expression calm.

“They don’t listen to us… You’ve hit the nail on the head!”

Victor clapped his hands and smiled. “The twenty thousand mountain folk in the strongholds listen to us; the smuggling caravans can easily recruit fourteen hundred mountain folk as mercenaries. But The Golden Company’s outer-circle members number at least seventy or eighty thousand, yet Quicksilver can only mobilize a few dozen reliable people… This is because we have failed to effectively control the outer-line merchants.”

Narsen shot a contemptuous look at Barol. He had been momentarily intimidated by the old spy’s tone just a moment ago.

He can only mobilize a few dozen people, yet he has the nerve to talk about over six thousand enforcers. If those enforcers don’t listen to you, what’s the use of having so many! Fortunately, my lord is brilliant and saw through this old fraud at a glance. In the end, it’s us, the War Bear Mercenaries, who are most useful to my lord… Narsen thought to himself with a touch of smugness.

Victor took in Narsen’s expression and waved a hand. “The unlicensed merchants not obeying orders is my responsibility. It has nothing to do with Quicksilver.”

“My lord is wise,” Barol said, bowing with sincere admiration.

“Then how do we make the unlicensed merchants obey?” Victor tapped the table and lifted his chin at Narsen. “You tell me… don’t look around, I’m talking to you.”

“Huh? You’re asking me?” Narsen pointed at his own nose. Seeing Victor nod, he rubbed the back of his head vigorously and said, feigning deep thought, “Well… I think to make the merchants obey, we first need to figure out why they don’t obey. I think… I’m thinking, how can they earn a million Gold Sols a year? That’s the key question!”

Victor was greatly surprised. Narsen, this fellow who knew nothing about commerce and trade, had managed to hit the nail on the head with his question. This was a testament to his natural talent and wisdom.

Victor said pleasantly, “Re-processing, re-production, re-selling… Take Baron Schultz, for example. We sell cheap pig lard. The public carriage drivers transport the lard to the Schultz fief, adding only a shipping fee. Baron Schultz uses the cheap lard to produce candles and sells them to merchants, who in turn sell the candles to refugee families. Isn’t that more profitable than simply reselling pig lard?”

“Oh, so that’s how it is,” Narsen said, rubbing the stubble on his chin and shaking his head. “The candle business has nothing to do with us. No wonder those merchants don’t listen to us.”

“That’s the logic, but they are using The Golden Company’s channels,” Victor said unreasonably. “I want them to obey me now and give us a share of the candle business. What do you suggest we do?”

Narsen thought for a long time, then shrugged and threw up his hands. “I don’t know.”

Victor shook his head with a wry smile and turned his gaze to Barol.

Barol revealed a fawning yet cunning smile. “My lord, you have already arranged a way to control the merchants in advance.”

Second chapter update will be in the evening. I’m a dog if I don’t update!

Chapter 465: Adjustments

“Oh.” Victor raised a slender eyebrow, his interest piqued. “Do tell.”

“First, we forbid Old John in Wildwillow City from selling goods to the freemen merchants. We cut off their supply at the source and force them to submit,” Barol declared.

Narsen pumped his fist in the air, exclaiming jubilantly, “Yes! That’s what we should do!”

“That’s an incredibly stupid idea.”

Victor retorted irritably, “House of Randell isn’t the only shop in Wildwillow City. If Old John doesn’t sell to the freemen merchants, other families will. Even if the unlicensed merchants can’t get goods in Wildwillow City, they can still sell their own lords’ products. The Randall family would only lose a sales channel, and outsiders would benefit for nothing.”

“Your insight is profound, my lord.” Barol offered a bit of flattery before continuing with confidence, “There are over three hundred outer-line merchants in Gambis, and each of them only knows a few of the others. But our Quicksilver inner line knows every single one of them and understands their sales channels. The lords and gangs of Wildwillow City all listen to you, my lord. You can cut off the outer-line merchants’ supply for a few months at least. Quicksilver can use this opportunity to threaten them into compliance. If anyone refuses to be sensible, we’ll support a new merchant to replace them. As long as their business can continue, the lords and their vassals won’t care who does the job.”

“These were the two backup plans my lord arranged in advance.”

A smile touched Victor’s lips. “And then?” he asked.

“And then, we make all three hundred-plus outer-line merchants pay us regular protection money.”

“That’s right…” Narsen slapped his thigh, then looked at Victor in confusion. “No, wait. If my lord already had this backup plan ready, why didn’t we use it?”

He had once again hit upon the crucial point.

Old Instructor Baritt could no longer hold back and interjected with an explanation, “If we did that, the unorganized freemen merchants would become the organized Golden Company. The moment the lords start investigating, all our secrets will be exposed.”

“And what are the consequences of being exposed?” Narsen asked in a low voice, his brow furrowed.

“I don’t know,” Baritt said, shaking his head. “My lord must have his reasons for not wanting The Golden Company to be exposed.”

Baritt was truly worthy of his role as the War Bear Mercenary Company’s combat commander; he was meticulous, calm, and a thoughtful strategist. Narsen was sharp and decisive, adept at seizing battlefield opportunities. The two of them complemented each other perfectly… Victor mused silently before speaking aloud, “All the lords want The Golden Company. None of them would yield to another, so none of them would get it… The result of a premature exposure would be The Golden Company being ground to dust by lords great and small. Our smuggling caravan and Quicksilver would be the first to fall.”

“Keeping The Golden Company in the shadows is not in our best interests, but bringing it into the light will subject it to the lords’ oppression.”

Victor’s tone shifted as he said with a smile, “Gentlemen, you need not worry. I have already handed The Golden Company over to Marchioness Sophia Wimbledon. She will find a powerful backer for it—the Holy See’s Curia.”

“Aren’t you surprised?”

Victor had deliberately emphasized Sophia’s title as Marchioness, wanting to draw a clear line between the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence and House of Randell. However, the four men present all wore expressions that suggested this was only to be expected.

Victor and Sophia were a lawfully wedded couple. They might be at odds today, but they could be as sweet as honey tomorrow. As vassals of Viscount Randell, it was wisest to remain silent on their lord’s family affairs.

The four men sat there obediently, as if they hadn’t heard their lord’s question.

After a moment of thought, Victor added, “Sophia believes The Golden Company doesn’t need the smuggling caravan or the mountain folk strongholds.”

Narsen remained silent, turning a deaf ear, like a well-behaved child.

Victor gritted his teeth in frustration and decided to lay his cards on the table. “Sophia is bringing The Golden Company out of the shadows. Our profits will at least triple. But The Golden Company is my brainchild, and I don’t intend to just let it go.”

“Sophia is my wife, and we have no argument. However, the vassals of the Marchioness of Wimbledon are not the vassals of House Randell. Sophia can build her own Golden Company with the people from her residence. Those people won’t be paying to support the Bear Company, the smuggling caravan, or Quicksilver. Therefore, you must contend with them for influence within The Golden Company.”

“As you wish, my Master,” the four men said in unison, rising to their feet. As long as it wasn’t aimed at their lady, Sophia, anything was fine.

“Sit down.” Victor gestured with his hand and continued, “The Golden Company is massive; it doesn’t matter who she uses. But if you want their lady, Sophia, to accept you into the upper echelons of The Golden Company, you must produce results that leave no room for argument.”

“For the next three years, Sophia and her vassals will focus their efforts on opening up the trade routes to the Sasan Empire, the Worton Plains, the Dodor Kingdom, and Naville. She will go north, so we will go east. We will open the trade routes to the Kingdom of Gambia, the Randt Imperial territory, the Kingdom of Ayr, the Kingdom of Sus, the Eastern Alliance, and the Kingdom of Borea. When our two sides merge, your positions in The Golden Company will be secure.”

“Tao De, do you know what you must do?” Victor asked.

Tao De hadn’t expected to be involved in such a major undertaking so soon after joining House of Randell. Suppressing his excitement, he said respectfully, “My lord, this is the first time I’ve heard the secret of The Golden Company… Your wisdom and vision leave me in awe. I am willing to give my all for the family’s enterprise! Although there is still much I don’t understand, I will humbly ask Tutor Barol for guidance.”

Victor nodded, then turned to Instructor Baritt. “Once my connection to the Bear Company is exposed, your situation will become very dangerous… Sophia needs a deterrent force to open up the northern trade routes. If the Bear Company operates under her banner, you won’t be targeted for annihilation or retaliation by the lords.”

“If you can win Sophia’s trust and esteem…” Victor trailed off, falling silent.

Sophia adhered to the principle of neutrality held by the commercial nobility; she would not maintain an armed force that specialized in infiltration and raids. For now, she needed to use the Bear Company to intimidate her external rivals and eliminate the hidden dangers within the Stag Merchants’ Guild. Once she completed her internal and external consolidation, she would surely have to divest herself of the Bear Company. Otherwise, the faction of the Pope would never provide an endorsement for The Golden Company.

Victor shook his head and said, “Never mind… I have other plans for the Bear Company in the future. Your main task for now is to assist Sophia, and on the side, help Quicksilver develop its inner and outer lines in the Dodor Kingdom, the Kingdom of Naville, and the Sasan Empire.”

“Yes,” Baritt said steadily.

Victor turned to the old spy. “Barol, I recall there’s a merchant named Weyrich in charge of The Golden Company’s candied fruit business?”

“Yes,” Barol replied. “Weyrich was once a freeman merchant in Black Fortress Town and has had dealings with Lord Narsen. He’s now the biggest unlicensed merchant in Deepwater City.”

“I remember him too,” Narsen said in his booming voice. “That fat man wanted to buy our Snow Sugar at the price of salt. Later, I dumped the Snow Sugar into the drains of Black Fortress Town, and he was hopping mad on the sidelines but still refused to raise his price.”

“Weyrich is a talented man,” Victor said with a nod and a smile. “Actually, for Sophia, Gambis is the hardest nut to crack. Her Four-Leaf Clover Trading Company has exclusive responsibility for trade in the Kingdom of Gambia, but Four-Leaf Clover swears fealty to Aerie Fortress. Sophia can’t use their people to develop The Golden Company in Gambis. So, we’ll pave the way for her in advance.”

“Isn’t Weyrich planning to open branch stores in the major towns of Gambis? Have him ship his goods from Wildwillow City. Those outer-line merchants who rely on The Golden Company for their livelihood must periodically hand over a share of their candied fruit profits to Weyrich. Anyone who refuses to pay is out!”

“I understand,” Barol nodded, glanced at Narsen, and then asked, “What if he doesn’t dare to come?”

Weyrich had run his first smuggling trip with Iron Hammer of the War Bear Mercenaries, and the two were on good terms. Weyrich was also the only merchant who had consistently paid tribute to the smuggling mercenary company, so his backer was the War Bear Mercenary Company.

“Don’t worry about the friendship between Weyrich and Iron Hammer.”

Narsen waved a hand dismissively and said, “If he doesn’t dare to come, then he’s out. I, for one, think that fat man has the guts for big things.”

“Good. From now on, Weyrich is Quicksilver’s inner line. As long as he dares to come, I will do my best to ensure his safety,” Barol said, his expression unchanging.

The candied fruit dividend could be seen as Victor forcibly collecting a franchise fee from all beneficiaries of The Golden Company. This change would bring the Randall family an extra seventy to eighty thousand Gold Sols in annual income. Weyrich’s position was crucial and extremely dangerous. It wouldn’t be many years before he was exposed to the eyes of the Four-Leaf Clover Trading Company. Victor couldn’t even step in to protect Weyrich, or the spies from Aerie Fortress would immediately arrest him. Barol’s so-called protection was, in reality, about concealing Weyrich’s identity as much as possible and, if necessary, silencing him by killing him preemptively. Weyrich’s chance for survival lay in the speed at which Sophia took control of The Golden Company in Gambis; only Sophia could protect him.

High risk meant high reward. As long as Weyrich could hold out until Sophia made her move, he could secure a place for himself in The Golden Company—as a secret agent of House Randell, of course.

Whether Sophia liked it or not, Victor was going to infiltrate Quicksilver into The Golden Company. He believed that the rise of The Golden Company was unstoppable, and every major power would try to plant their spies within it. Only by securing high-level positions in advance could he ensure the interests of House Randell and control the direction of The Golden Company’s development.

Victor was very pleased with Narsen and Barol’s performance. He smiled and asked, “Are there any other questions?”

“My lord, did you just say that My Lady intends to abandon this trade route?” Narsen stood up and asked. “What about our smuggling caravan and mountain strongholds?”

“Abandon it? How could we abandon it? Business as usual, everything as before!”

“Yes!” Narsen struck his chest with his fist and responded loudly.

The small mountain paths were long, the environment treacherous, and plagued by monsters and beasts. The low-volume, high-risk transport conditions greatly increased the cost of shipping goods. Now that there was a public transport network, it made sense to abandon the mountain routes. Speaking purely from a business perspective, Sophia’s thinking was perfectly reasonable.

However, Victor had his own considerations.

The finances of House of Randell were divided into two parts. The income subject to the tithe and the kingdom’s annual tribute was managed by Lilia and deposited into Laketon Castle’s treasury. All expenses for materiel procurement, fief construction, the mercenary army’s pay, and the stewards’ and aides’ stipends came from this treasury. The income from The Golden Company, which was not subject to any taxes, was Victor’s private savings, mainly used for the development of Quicksilver and the smuggling caravan, as well as the creation of alchemical creatures.

Currently, the produce of the Randell Fief was exclusively handled by the Two-headed Lizard Merchant Guild, but the coffee, Snow Sugar, and resources from Skylark Mountain and the Great Marsh in Victor’s possession were not part of the centralized procurement and purchasing. These goods had always been transported and sold by the smuggling caravan.

Otherwise, where did Victor’s private savings of over one hundred thousand Gold Sols a year come from?

Abandoning the mountain routes meant that Victor could only sell the resources collected and processed by his alchemical auxiliary soldiers through normal channels. Not only would he have to pay a large amount of tax, but he would also expose all the secrets of Skylark Mountain and the Great Marsh. Moreover, reselling the herbs and beast hides collected and processed by the mountain folk was also a considerable source of income.

In the short term, Victor needed to use the mountain routes to sell valuable goods like coffee, Snow Sugar, clam seasonings, crystals, and rare herbs, worth hundreds of thousands of Gold Sols, and to purchase hard currency like gold and silver, as well as fire element crystals.

In the long run, the human kingdoms were about to face their gravest test, and the valiant mountain folk hunters were a force worth winning over.

Sophia might worry that courting the mountain folk would anger the regional lords, but Pontiff Clement wouldn’t necessarily see it that way. If the Church had the means, he would be more than happy to spread the faith to the Wildmen. Victor’s Alchemical humans could create those means.

As long as he properly managed the relationships between the mountain strongholds, the smuggling caravan, the Radiant Church, and the regional lords, Victor’s efforts to win over the mountain folk could instead enhance his political prestige and give him more influence.

“I will make Sophia change her mind.” A confident and elegant smile appeared on Victor’s face. “And that goes for everything.”

“If there are no other questions, you are all dismissed. Barol, you stay.”

Chapter 466: The Spy’s Discovery

Narsen and the others bowed and departed, leaving only the old spy, Barol, seated across the desk.

Victor had known Barol for over four years. Back then, Sylvia had made her first attempt to win Victor over completely. Full of enthusiasm, she had ordered the magistrate of Black Fortress to set a trap, having Narsen kill the steward of the Queen’s cousin. This was meant to force Victor to switch sides, leaving him no choice but to accept the York family’s protection.

In truth, Victor held no deep affection for Aerie Fortress, so Sylvia’s efforts had been in vain. But the affair had changed the fortunes of many; some lost their lives, while others rose to prominence. Barol was one of the lucky ones.

At first, Victor did not trust Barol. He was merely interested in the lord’s spy and wanted to acquire relevant knowledge from him. When the Ant-man tide swept through the Centaur Hills, Victor led his alchemical creatures in a steadfast defense of his territory, losing contact with the outside world. It was Barol who went to great lengths to pass him information, helping him understand the overall situation in the Centaur Hills and make the right decisions.

Through this, Barol earned Victor’s trust. In the time that followed, he repeatedly proved his ability and loyalty through his actions, becoming Victor’s right-hand man and single-handedly establishing Quicksilver, the spy organization of the House of Randell.

Victor acknowledged that Barol was very clever. However, there was no significant difference in intelligence among normal people, and the Randell Fief had no shortage of clever men. That Barol was able to stand out was due not only to good fortune but, more importantly, to a will to survive and an ambition that far exceeded the ordinary.

Desire and ambition had fully unearthed Barol’s potential. Within the House of Randell, he was one of the few who had voluntarily accepted Victor’s ideological reshaping. His enthusiasm for learning was second only to Nicole’s and Lilia’s.

Nicole and Lilia were young, after all, and deeply in love with Victor. They admired his talent and were eager to help their lover build an enterprise. For Barol, who was already over fifty, to possess such drive was truly rare.

Over the years, Barol had rushed from place to place, making immense contributions to the development of Quicksilver and The Golden Company. His spirit was still vigorous, but the wind and frost of his travels had left indelible marks on his face. Though his hair, dyed with cochineal beetles, was meticulously styled, the graying roots betrayed his age.

Victor’s scrutinizing gaze softened. “Is Tao De the successor you’ve chosen?” he asked kindly.

“Yes.” Barol nodded, then gave a wry smile. “I recently received a letter from Paul. He said the noble scions at the Silver Spire have suddenly started treating him much better. He wanted to ask me what on earth happened.”

Paul was a young spy Barol had personally trained and his most favored disciple. Victor had once arranged for his two best young spies to study at the Silver Spire, and Paul was one of them. Since the Silver Spire only trained noble scholars, Victor had Lord and Lady Narsen adopt Paul, giving him the status of a lord’s son.

The adopted son of a minor lord was of low status, so Paul was bound to have suffered much discrimination in an environment like the Silver Spire. For the noble scions to change their attitude toward him, there could be only one explanation: news that Narsen had become a student of Tournans and had slain the Silver Knight Horla had reached the Silver Spire.

In this roundabout way, Barol was pointing out that Lord Narsen’s adopted son could not be the leader of Quicksilver.

The War Bear Mercenaries had already become the primary political force of the House of Randell. Lilia was in charge of the Randell Fief’s administration and finances, Narsen controlled the mercenary legion and vassal guards, Linda was responsible for oversight, Baritt led the Bear Company, and the remaining War Bear Mercenaries indirectly controlled twenty thousand Mountain folk.

Victor’s vassal village heads had long since abandoned any thought of competing with the War Bears. Magistrate Munk was determined to keep the War Bear scions out of the Magistrate’s Office, but he was fighting a losing battle. Not only was Munk ostracized by everyone, but he had also had a falling out with his own sister. This was because Elsa’s adoptive parents were War Bear Mercenaries, and she was now married to the adopted son of another War Bear family.

Only Nicole could keep the War Bears firmly in check. Even so, Rose Manor still had to use a marriage alliance to win over Narsen. This just went to show how powerful the War Bear Mercenaries were in the Randell Fief.

Victor smiled faintly and asked, “What are your plans now?”

“Quicksilver has expanded too quickly. The backgrounds of our inner line members are complex—we have all sorts of people, which makes us particularly vulnerable to infiltration by other powers. I plan to stay in the Randell Fief and train some loyal family spies for you, my lord, to replace those unreliable Quicksilver inner line agents,” Barol replied respectfully.

It wasn’t just Quicksilver that had expanded. The entire House of Randell was expanding, so much so that the family’s foundations were becoming unstable.

The vast difference in their levels of life meant that the rule of an extraordinary lord in this world was fundamentally different from that of a king on Earth. The servants of the Lord of Radiance had established the ideology for every class of humanity; knightly lords never had to worry about their mortal vassals rebelling.

Only powers of the same level needed to be balanced and constrained. As the most powerful extraordinary individual in the House of Randell, no one could shake the foundation of Victor’s rule.

However, those at the bottom could deceive the Aide, the Aide could deceive the steward, the steward could deceive Narsen and his sister, and Narsen and Lilia could deceive Victor.

A lie covered by a greater one, a mistake triggering a cascade of errors, ultimately leading to catastrophic consequences. If the House of Randell were to pay a heavy price because Victor was deceived, Lilia and Narsen would not escape punishment.

This was how a leader could be completely deceived.

This was what it meant for the foundations to be unstable.

You couldn’t put all your eggs in one basket; a lord needed to hear different voices. Victor’s training of apprentice knights to serve as commanders for the rangers was one way of dividing the eggs. Barol’s return to the fief to train family spies was another way of adding more eyes and ears for the lord.

“Barol,” Victor praised with gratification, “it’s excellent that you’ve been able to keep a clear head, that you haven’t been blinded by Quicksilver’s achievements and power!”

“Even if you hadn’t wanted to come back, I would have recalled you. The population under the family’s rule now exceeds one hundred thousand. The Randell Fief needs Quicksilver more than ever.” Victor steepled his fingers and leaned back in his chair. “I have established a secret manor in the Larkspur Mountains to the west of the fief. The family has used inducement fees to take in over eighty orphans between the ages of three and six, all of whom are living there. Thirty-four of those children have undergone body reconstruction by Sacred Warriors. I plan to hand that secret camp over to you, to serve as a training camp for Quicksilver spies.”

Barol was suddenly overjoyed. His face flushed with excitement as he bowed. “I will be worthy of your trust, my lord.”

Victor waved his hand and shook his head with regret. “It’s a pity you’re too old… Undergoing a Sacred Warrior’s body reconstruction at this age would only harm you. I’ve specially prepared some Goldensun Potion for you. If you take one dose a year, you should live at least another seven or eight years.”

“Thank you for your generous gift, my lord.”

“Right, the main ingredient of the Goldensun Potion is Kui Root. Besides slowing aging, it will also make you more vigorous.” Victor looked Barol up and down and teased, “An old bachelor like you should get married and have children… Why don’t you tell me, what kind of woman are you looking for? And how many?”

Barol was taken aback. “My lord,” he asked cautiously, “have you heard?”

“Heard what?” Victor watched the old spy with a half-smile until he was thoroughly embarrassed, then feigned a sudden realization. “Oh, now I remember… you gave my Elite Guards a certain ‘special’ potion, just so the tavern waitresses could earn their money… According to Baritt, it was quite effective?”

“The Elite Guards’ aversion to women was too conspicuous… I did it as a cover… purely as a cover,” Barol said with a dry laugh.

“No need to explain.” Victor leaned forward and asked mischievously, “I’m just curious, how do you know the formula for such a potion? Do you… use it often yourself?”

Barol admitted frankly, “I do use that potion often. All my old pals, the spies, use it… In truth, we’re just like your Elite Guards. We have no ability to procreate.”

The smile on Victor’s face vanished instantly. His eyes grew deep and cold. Shaking his head slowly, he said, “Barol, you don’t need to beat around the bush with me. I require you to speak to me with complete honesty.”

“Yes.” Barol looked up, his expression serious. “My lord, I’ve told you before that I was a spy trained by the Kartolin family. This family’s history can be traced back to the early days of the Randt Empire; they were always court nobles of the Neowist royal family. About forty-three years ago, the Kartolins, in league with two other court-noble families, betrayed the Neowist royal family and defected to the Kingdom of Gambia. This ultimately triggered the Eastern Province War.”

Victor nodded and continued, “Ryan died in battle, and three Earls were executed by the Neowist Emperor on charges of treason. The York family migrated west, and Gambis ceded the three eastern provinces to the Randt Imperial territory.”

Barol paused for a moment before continuing, “Regardless of the Kartolin family’s ultimate fate, they were, after all, court nobles from the early days of the Randt Empire and possessed many unknown secret arts. That includes the secret training methods for Mystic Warriors.”

Victor listened quietly, offering no comment. Barol added, “From my earliest memories, I was trained with many other companions in the Kartolin family’s secret fortress. A month before we were to leave, our instructor ordered each of us to drink a bottle of potion and memorize a formula. Then he took us to a tavern… A waitress there made me a man. I was seventeen that year.”

“The Kartolin family spies are all the same. Without the potion, our desires are faint; with it, we are still infertile.” A reminiscent look appeared on Barol’s face. “The old spy who led me on missions claimed the potion was to hide our identities, and our celibacy was to better complete our tasks. But as I gained more experience, I came to a different conclusion.”

“A family spy is a lord’s eyes and ears. He must report what he sees and hears truthfully. Marriage inevitably leads to mutual influence, infiltration, and conflicts of interest that can compromise a spy’s position.”

“A family spy should not have the ability to procreate.”

Victor pondered this for a moment, then nodded. “That does make sense. It’s like Monkey. The magistrate’s guards under him are always entangled in some messy familial relationships with the work point system families. The same incident is described in many different ways by different people. If Monkey only listened to his guards, he wouldn’t be able to get anything done. That’s why he also uses the ‘White Necks’ to do work for the Magistrate’s Office… Heh, everyone laughs at Monkey and calls him ‘Dung-head’.”

Barol shook his head. “Master, the Magistrate’s Office and the mercenary army are your claws, while the Inspectorate and Quicksilver are your eyes and ears. Monkey is no longer one of Quicksilver’s people. I will never go to see him, and he cannot come looking for me.”

“I like a man with discretion… Continue with what you were saying,” Victor said with an approving smile.

Barol cleared his throat. “It wasn’t until I worked alongside the Elite Guards that I realized the Kartolin family might have originally intended to train us as Mystic Warriors. But we were the ones who were weeded out, fit only to be trained as family spies.”

Chapter 467: Quicksilver’s Ambition

“We?”

Victor raised an eyebrow and asked lightly.

Barol hurriedly explained, “The old pals I recruited in Deepwater City feel the same way. The Elite Guards are especially powerful, possibly because they completely abstain from women… I’ve already brought all those old pals back. I’ll never let them reveal the Elite Guards’ secret.”

Seeing that Victor had no intention of reprimanding him, Barol breathed a sigh of relief and continued, “Later, we examined the Shadow Warriors of the Masked Brotherhood. Their… things were only this big.” Barol held out his little finger, and his deadpan expression looked particularly lewd. “So, we guessed that all powerful Mystic Warriors must share the trait of being unable to reproduce. That potion from the Kartolin family was actually a cover for the Mystic Warriors’ identity.”

A glint of light flashed in Victor’s eyes. He chuckled and asked, “You were able to uncover the secret to the Mystic Warriors’ power just from observing the Shadow Warriors and the Elite Guards?”

Barol thought for a moment and said, “My lord, you see, the bulls the Randall family castrates grow faster and bigger than ordinary bulls…”

“That’s called being fat!”

Victor retorted impatiently, “Ten castrated bulls couldn’t beat one real one. Aside from their tender meat, they are completely useless!”

“Right, you can’t castrate them! The moment you do, they become useless!”

Barol’s eyes lit up. He then explained with an awkward laugh, “This isn’t my idea… I have an old pal who is exceptionally good at autopsies. In his spare time, he likes to study animals, insects, and the like. He says that powerful creatures have difficulty reproducing, while weaker ones can give birth to many at once. Some insects die soon after laying their eggs. It’s as if their entire life’s mission is to procreate.”

“He believes that a person’s various abilities exist in a balanced whole; if one area is stronger, another is weaker, and reproductive ability occupies the greatest potential of the human body. If a person’s ability to reproduce is locked away, their other abilities can be greatly enhanced. For example, they become stronger, more agile, and more intelligent…”

Barol added, “We have firsthand experience as well… My memory is particularly good, and my sight and hearing also surpass that of an ordinary person.”

This rather vulgar topic had delved into the deep secrets of the world’s laws. But the subject and the timing of the discussion were not right.

Victor pondered for a moment, then asked, “Why are you only telling me about the Kartolin family’s secret fortress now?”

“I didn’t dare.”

The old spy raised his sleeve to wipe the cold sweat from his forehead and said in a hoarse voice, “I didn’t dare to probe into the secrets of the Elite Guards… I thought you knew all the details of training Mystic Warriors.”

Victor nodded, sighed, and said, “But you didn’t expect that I had no idea how to conceal the extraordinary nature of the Elite Guards… What I received was an incomplete family legacy… Fortunately, you’re here to help me patch the holes.”

“Barol, you’ve done me a great service,” Victor said earnestly.

The old spy bowed deeply. “My lord, it is what I ought to do.”

“So why are you risking it to bring this up with me now?” Victor asked with a gentle smile.

“My lord, I believe the Masked Brotherhood has the complete legacy of the Wimbledon family that you need… At the very least, it can complete your legacy.”

Barol said respectfully, “The Shadow of the Mask was a Wizard. Just as he was about to leak the secret, he was silenced by another form of Wizardry. From this, we can see that the Masked Brotherhood may be secretly controlled by a wizard organization… This conclusion is hard to believe, but it is the most logical explanation.”

Victor remained noncommittal, gesturing for Barol to continue presenting his views.

“Furthermore, I discovered that the Wizard seemed to expect to be captured by the Dodor Royal Family’s spies. This shows they want to pledge their allegiance to the Dodor Royal Family… The secret arts for training Bloodguards and Shadow Warriors are the wizard organization’s stepping stone to gain favor.”

Barol raised his head and looked directly into Victor’s eyes, his tone fervent. “My lord, they are both Mystic Warriors, but the Elite Guards go to an extreme. They are fearless in the face of death, ruthless, loyal, and possess an iron will, even able to resist Wizardry. The Shadow Warriors, aside from their… things being too small to be of any use, are well-rounded in their other abilities, and they are extremely clever… Once, three of our Elite Guards were taken down by a single Shadow Warrior… Frankly, the Shadow Warriors are much stronger than the family’s Elite Guards. It’s possible that even a Knight could fall at the hands of a Shadow Warrior.”

“Since the Wizards of the Masked Brotherhood want to join the Dodor Royal Family, why can’t they swear fealty to you?”

Victor smiled and shook his head. “Barol, since when did you become so arrogant? Can the House of Randell be compared to the House of Friedrich?”

“The Golden Company can.”

Barol said, “In reality, you don’t need the Wizards’ fealty, you just need the secret art of their legacy. Besides, it should have belonged to you in the first place. Only the ancient Wimbledon family could have a complete record of the ancient Wizards’ legacy.”

Victor tapped the table, took out a bag from the drawer, and pinched some of the crystal fragments inside. “I can confirm that these are fragments of a Holy Crystal.”

“That… How is that possible?!” Barol’s face paled in horror, and he suppressed a loud gasp.

“And only the Church could sponsor a wizard organization. Because they have collected the most complete legacy of the ancient Wizards.” Victor summoned a small breeze, sending the crystal dust on his fingertips back into the bag. “The Radiant Code doesn’t require the clergy to kill Wizards. However, clergy who Purify Wizards can obtain Divine Favor… It seems contradictory, but it isn’t at all. In truth, for the Church to exterminate Wizards, they would first have to exterminate all mortals.”

The old spy felt a devastating sense of loss, as if the sky were falling. He muttered blankly to himself, “How could this be?”

Victor let out a cold laugh. “Stay calm. A moment ago, you were telling me to sponsor Wizards. How is it that when it’s the Church’s turn to sponsor them, it’s suddenly unacceptable?”

Barol composed himself and said righteously, “My lord, you are a lord. Sometimes, a lord is forced to do things that can’t see the light of day. We sponsor Evildoers only to make use of their power. But how can the servants of the Supreme Lord do bad things? They can only do good deeds!”

Victor couldn’t help but roar with laughter. “Haha, your logic is so powerful it leaves me speechless.”

“The Masked Brotherhood has a complex background, mainly divided into three factions: the Thieves’ Guild supported by the lords of the Kingdom of Sus, the port’s Thieves’ Guild supported by the Kingdom of Borea, and the mercenaries of the Eastern Alliance supported by the Inquisition. The backer of those Wizards is most likely the Inquisition.”

At this moment, Barol’s mind was a complete muddle, utterly unable to think. He shook his head and asked, “Why would the Inquisition do this?”

“It’s like how we raise wild boars. Instead of letting them run wild outside and ruin crops, it’s better to pen them up… and once the pigs are fattened, we slaughter them for meat.”

Victor pursed his lips and shook his head. “The Eastern Alliance is even larger than the Sasan Empire, and human settlements are scattered everywhere, making it easy for a powerful monster tribe to emerge. But the power of the Church and the knightly lords is limited; they can’t watch over the Eastern Alliance. That’s why the Inquisition came up with the idea of using the power of Wizards to form a powerful Masked mercenary company to suppress the monster populations. The Church and the great lords are probably aware of it, but even if they are, they won’t expose it. And if anyone dares to leak this, the Inquisition will kill them!”

“So that’s how it is.” Barol nodded, his expression improving considerably.

Victor glanced at the old spy and said, “When the Golden Company sets foot in the Eastern Alliance, we will have a chance to meet with that wizard organization and discuss the secret art of the Shadow Warrior legacy… This is what you really want, isn’t it?”

“My lord is wise.” Barol smiled, a little awkwardly.

The old man had no wife or children and regarded Quicksilver as his own child. All he wanted now was to strengthen Quicksilver and leave a rich legacy for his successor. If the spies he trained were to form their own families and have a bunch of children, they would no longer be Quicksilver’s spies. The Alchemical Humans were simple and rigid, only suitable as soldiers. The Shadow Warriors were, in Barol’s mind, the most ideal Quicksilver spies.

Then again, if Quicksilver wanted to establish a firm footing within the Golden Company, it would have to face challenges from other intelligence organizations. With Quicksilver’s current skill, it really wasn’t enough.

Although Barol had his own selfish interests, it didn’t harm the bigger picture. After pointing this out, Victor said, “Leave the matters of the Eastern Alliance to Tao De. You and your old pals can focus on training the family’s spies… Before that, I have another matter I need you to handle.”

Barol said grimly, “My lord, please give your command.”

Victor hesitated for a moment before asking, “You were a spy in the eastern part of the kingdom. Have you heard of Baron Santon?”

“I have been to Baron Santon’s domain.” Barol nodded. “Over twenty years ago, the Santon family bred the superior Santon Warhorse and Santon Hound. The Santon Warhorse has a stocky build; its burst of speed is less than that of a regular warhorse, but it has extreme endurance, is adapted to rugged mountain roads, and can travel a distance of 400 kilometers in a single day. After the Three Provinces War, Baron Santon became a vassal of the Randt Imperial territory.”

Victor’s spirits lifted. “It’s said that the Santon family possesses a secret art of animal taming. I want to borrow their experience to breed the Randall family’s Swiftbirds.”

Barol frowned. “Prying into another family’s secret art of animal taming will likely require a long period of infiltration.”

“Experience in breeding warhorses may not necessarily be suitable for breeding Swiftbirds.”

Victor waved his arm and said, “Find a way to capture the master of the hunt from the Santon family and interrogate him. If they have the secret art of animal taming, they have it. If not, so be it. I won’t force the outcome. However, you are not to participate in the interrogation. I will have the Elite Guards handle it. Do you understand?”

“As you wish, my lord.”

“Go back and prepare. Leave in three days, and don’t let anyone else know. You may leave.”

“Yes.” Barol retreated backward out of the study.

Victor sat in his chair, lost in thought. Barol’s speculation about reproductive ability and Mystic Warriors had given him a great deal of inspiration.

X-3 retrieved all sorts of stored information and began to construct various models, like building with blocks, running logical deductions. After an unknown amount of time, an idea began to clarify in Victor’s mind. He walked to the window, opened his fair and elegant hand, and gazed at the sunlight falling on his palm, murmuring to himself, “The Elemental Sea illuminates the path of a species’ evolution… The path is the Law, and the Law is the Creator’s Light of the Mind.”

“This is a world with a Creator.”

Barol isn’t naive; he has faith.

Chapter 468: Simulated Inspiration

An old Huaxia proverb says: A full belly and warm clothes lead to lustful thoughts, while hunger and cold breed larceny. In one sentence, it lays bare two of humanity’s fundamental instincts: procreation and survival. At the same time, the proverb itself reflects a third human instinct: thought.

Thinking is the instinct that distinguishes sapient humans from non-sapient creatures. When a person is idle and bored, they inevitably contemplate the meaning of life.

Victor’s Will Side contained life experiences from two worlds: one, a modern society of great material abundance and an information explosion; the other, the life of a lord in another world, free from worries about food and clothing. In both lives, he had ample time for idle speculation, attempting to sort out the relationship between himself and the world.

Just now, Barol’s talk of the fertility of Mystic Warriors had triggered in Victor a desire to contemplate the Laws of this other world. He used the X-3 to combine the two life experiences within his Will Side, constructing a virtual model like a movie scene, which he observed and ran deductions on from a third-person perspective.

Earth, several million years ago. On the bank of a great river, a female hominid enjoyed the prey captured by her male spouse. Her belly full, she engaged in a pleasant activity with her spouse. The exhausted male fell into a deep sleep, but the female lay in her nest of grass, gazing at the bright moon in the sky, and suddenly thought:

“Who am I? Where am I? Where am I going?”

And so, the first human was born. Her three questions would puzzle countless descendants, yielding endlessly different answers, and to this day—and into the future—there will be no single standard.

Several million years later, a human clan appeared on the same riverbank. The clan’s chieftainess sat alone on a rock, lost in a daze. A small, skinny boy came running over and asked curiously, “Amu, what are you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking about whether to go to the eastern thickets to gather wild fruit tomorrow, or to the western plains to hunt mammoths.” The chieftainess stroked the boy’s head. This was her favorite little son; he had a pair of quick, clever eyes.

The little boy’s bright eyes darted around as he said in a wheedling tone, “I want to go to the Black Forest in the south.”

The chieftainess shook her head. “We don’t know what beasts are hiding in the Black Forest. It’s very dangerous! I forbid anyone from entering the Black Forest!” Her voice turned stern. The little boy lowered his head in disappointment, then immediately looked up again. “Amu, why do we have to gather wild fruit and hunt mammoths?”

“To survive,” the chieftainess said with a smile. She enjoyed answering questions, but there were too few members of the clan who liked to ask them.

“And what is survival for?”

“For procreation?”

“What is procreation for?” the boy asked, confused.

“Silly child, procreation is for survival, of course.” The chieftainess pulled her little son into her arms and explained carefully, “I gave birth to you, and you will grow up to be a warrior and a hunter. When the clan has more warriors, we can drive away the wolf packs on the plains, gather more fruit, and hunt more mammoths. Then we won’t have to go hungry.”

“Do I need to procreate too?”

“Of course. You’ll become an Abu of the clan, and the women of the clan will bear strong offspring because of you,” the chieftainess said with pride.

The little boy fell silent for a moment before saying timidly, “But the Abu has to accept challenges to procreate with the women, and the loser dies. Even if the clan’s Abu and women have many strong offspring, they will still die.”

“Amu, if procreation is for survival, why are the men in the clan willing to die just to be the Abu?”

The chieftainess was stumped. She thought and thought, murmuring to herself, “Survival is for procreation… The Abu would rather die than give up the chance to procreate. I have procreated, but I will still die… So what is procreation for?”

Just then, the chieftainess’s spouse walked over. He was the strongest warrior in the clan, who had once killed the chieftainess’s old Abu and a challenger with his stone axe.

“Stop thinking. Come with me.” The Abu pawed clumsily at his spouse’s arm. Her thoughts interrupted, the chieftainess spat at him in anger, but he simply picked her up and slung her over his shoulder.

The chieftainess furiously pounded her spouse’s thick lower back, cursing loudly, “All you think about besides hunting and eating is making children with me! You don’t know how to think! What’s the difference between you and those wild beasts? You gorilla, let me go!”

“Why think?” the Abu grumbled, carrying the chieftainess and striding towards their hut.

The little boy was left behind. His face changed into Victor’s. Stroking his chin, he murmured to himself, “Why think? If you don’t think, how could you ask that question?”

Survival is for procreation. What is procreation for? Why think?

He left these questions to the little boy’s descendants.

Several hundred years later, the clan had become a tribe. Two of the tribe’s sages were discussing the questions left by their ancestors by the river.

The middle-aged sage triumphantly picked up a bow and arrow and said, “Look, through thinking, I invented the bow. With bows, the tribe’s hunters can capture more prey and have completely driven the sabertooth tigers from the plains. Our hunters have concentrated their strength to explore the Black Forest, discovering many berries and new game. With this food, we can procreate more offspring.”

“I’ve figured it out. Survival is for procreation, and thinking is for better survival, which allows us to have more offspring. Therefore, procreation is the ultimate goal.”

The old sage looked at the bow with envy. He had once been the wisest man in the tribe. But the middle-aged sage had not only invented the bow but had also solved one of the ancestors’ questions. The people of the tribe would soon see him as the wisest. The old sage couldn’t accept that someone was cleverer than him. He asked coolly, “Then what is procreation for?”

The middle-aged sage was taken aback. He shook his head and said, “I haven’t figured that out yet… But haven’t I already answered why we think? I’m sure I can find the purpose of procreation.”

“Hmph! Why do you think that? Who made you think that way?” The old sage breathed a secret sigh of relief, clasped his hands behind his back majestically, and strolled away from the riverbank with an air of profound wisdom.

His two questions struck the middle-aged sage like a bolt of lightning, leaving him stunned.

“Who made me think that way? It was me… Why do I think this way? If I thought of it myself, I should know why I think it. But why can’t I answer?”

The middle-aged sage watched the old sage’s retreating back with awe, thinking, “As expected of the tribe’s foremost sage. I still have a long way to go…”

In the days that followed, the middle-aged sage pondered this question constantly. The more he thought, the more confused he became, but he still couldn’t find an answer. He couldn’t help but seek the old sage’s guidance, but the old sage always maintained an inscrutable air, telling him to think for himself.

Before long, the old sage died. The middle-aged sage could no longer find anyone to ask about the question. Depressed and unhappy, he soon fell ill. On his deathbed, he summoned his sons, posed the question to them, and finally said, “The ancestors left a mystery and two questions. Survival is for procreation, but what is procreation for? And why do we think? I figured out ‘why we think,’ but I never figured out ‘why we are able to think?’”

“Thinking is for better survival, and survival is for procreation. So why are we able to think? The old sage said there is someone who makes us think. But he died without telling me who that person is. I want you to find him. If you find him, you will know the purpose of procreation.”

“Why do people think?” became “Who makes people think?”

The question spread like wildfire throughout the tribe. At first, everyone discussed it with great enthusiasm, wanting to find the person who made them think, but no matter how they searched, they couldn’t find him. As time went on, “that person” became a shadow looming over the entire tribe. Hunters lost the heart to hunt, and women and children didn’t dare to go out and gather, fearing “that person” was hiding in the dark, waiting to ambush them.

If he is benevolent, why hasn’t he shown himself? If he is dead, why can I still think?

Decades passed, and the tribe grew weaker, but that person was still active because everyone could still think. This led to other questions:

How can he live for so long? If I find him, can I learn to become immortal too?

The instinct for survival makes humans fear the unknown, yet the instinct for survival and development also makes humans love to explore the unknown.

The more they feared, the more curious they became. Every member of the tribe yearned to see that person. Finally, one day, a woman in the tribe fainted from hunger. Believing she was dying, her intense desire to live stimulated her deepest craving—to find “that person.” And then she had a hallucination and saw “that person.”

After waking up, the woman told all the tribe members that she had seen “the person” who made them think. And what’s more, “that person” had saved her.

The tribe members, having witnessed the woman seemingly return from the dead, were skeptical but intrigued.

However, who wouldn’t want to come back from the dead?

Trembling with a mixture of fear and anticipation, they asked the woman, “Where is that person?”

The woman shook her head, pointed to her heart, and said, “He lives in my heart. Only I can see him and hear him speak.”

“How can a person live in your heart? That’s definitely not a person.”

The crowd buzzed with discussion. Someone even suggested cutting out the woman’s heart to see.

The woman flew into a rage, her voice shrieking, “That was not a person, He is a god. None of you can see the god. Only I can speak with Him. I am the Shamaness.”

“The god told me that everyone in this tribe will die before winter is over! We must cut out his heart and offer it to the god. Only then will we receive the god’s protection.”

The Shamaness pointed at the man who wanted to cut out her heart. The look of terror, madness, malice, and glee on her face made the tribe members tremble with fear.

With a god, the tribe members no longer felt panicked or weak. Whenever they encountered something they didn’t understand, they would consult the Shamaness. If the Shamaness didn’t understand, she would defer to the god.

Someone ate a poisonous fruit and died—the god’s will. This fruit is bitter but edible—the god’s blessing. Someone got injured, rubbed some plant juice on the wound, and it healed—they remembered that plant; it was the god’s guidance.

Because of the god’s existence, the tribe members were unprecedentedly united and courageous. They expanded into larger territories and encountered more new things. The Shamaness, responsible for communicating with the god, had to answer the members’ questions, so new discoveries were brought to her. Through the Shamaness’s recording and organization, the tribe’s knowledge base grew richer. The Shamaness became the most authoritative person in the tribe. But she couldn’t manage it all alone, so she chose assistants and created writing. The knowledge collected by the tribe could now be accumulated and passed down.

However, this accumulation and organization of knowledge was all built upward within the framework of the god. The prototype of a religious theological system appeared.

The burgeoning tribe encountered other tribes, and through war and annexation, a kingdom was formed.

But every tribe had its own god. What should the kingdom’s god look like? What powers should He possess?

As the tribes merged, their shamans gathered to discuss the form and power of the god. To their surprise, they discovered that the gods of all the tribes had many commonalities, just described in different ways. This was because humans cannot imagine things that do not exist; the form of a god is constructed from the shaman’s cognition. With this foundation, the shamans of the various tribes exhausted their imaginations, chose a proposal acceptable to all, and unified the god’s form and power using humanity as a template.

God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. God created all things in the world. God created humankind in His own image.

Human religion was born.

During the Age of Discovery, the Pope pushed open the prison door alone. Inside the dark, damp cell, a disheveled old man with ragged clothes and messy hair was frantically writing formulas on the floor with a pebble, aided by the dim candlelight.

“Edwen, it’s time,” the Pope said softly.

“Wait a little longer. Let me finish the formula,” the old man said without looking up. The sound of the pebble scraping against the floor grew more urgent and piercing.

“You can calculate it outside,” the Pope said, stepping forward and blocking the space where Edwen was writing with his boot. “You are free.”

“Move! You’re in my way!”

Edwen shouted, then suddenly came to his senses. He looked up, using his left hand to tidy his messy hair, revealing a withered, haggard face and a pair of piercing eyes.

“You said I can go out and calculate these formulas?” Edwen pointed to the floor and asked uncertainly.

He wasn’t concerned about his freedom, only his research.

The Pope sighed inwardly and nodded. “Yes. you can go out and verify these formulas, and you can continue your scientific research… You are free now.”

“Why?” Edwen licked his chapped lips and asked in a hoarse voice. He clutched the pebble tightly, as if afraid of letting the truth slip through his fingers.

“Sir Edwen, the fleet you funded has returned.” The Pope paused, then said calmly, “The Earth is round.”

Clack. The pebble fell to the floor. Sir Edwen swayed, murmuring to himself, “The Earth is round, the Earth is indeed round… I knew it was round, I knew it all along…” He composed himself and looked at the smiling Pope, asking coldly, “Just because Captain Marin proved the Earth is round, you’re letting me go?”

“It is God’s will,” the Pope replied, his smile unwavering.

An inexplicable anger rose in Edwen’s heart, and he couldn’t help but roar, “Over a hundred years ago, Tacitus pointed out that the Earth was round. You called him a Heretic and burned him alive in the public square! Now, I’ve proven Tacitus was right, and you say it’s God’s will? A god who makes mistakes—is that still a god?” He pointed at the formulas on the floor, his eyes fixed on the Pope, and demanded, “Do you know what this is? I’m telling you, not only is the Earth round, it revolves around the sun! I will prove that God doesn’t exist at all!”

The Pope met Edwen’s aggressive gaze with calm composure and shook his head. “God does not err; it is man who errs. God had you correct Pope Aug III’s error.”

“Ha… Ludicrous, absurd, hypocritical,” Sir Edwen sneered, saying with disdain, “You sicken me!”

The Pope looked at Edwen with pity in his eyes and asked thoughtfully, “Sir, what do you think God is?”

“God corrected Pope Aug III’s error. According to you, aren’t I the god you speak of?”

Edwen scoffed, then said firmly, “I am not a god. There is no god in this world!”

“God created all things, created all life, and embodies all things and all life. He is omnipresent and omnipotent. God is the light, God is the beacon, God exists deep in your mind, guiding your way,” the Pope said piously. “All that we see, hear, and perceive are incarnations of God. You are God, and I am God.”

Edwen stared at the Pope, dumbfounded. After a moment, he said in shock, “To think that you are the greatest Heretic of all!”

“A heretic to the Holy See is not a heretic to God. God created the world; within the world, there are no heretics to God,” the Pope said with a smile.

Edwen was silent for a long time before his expression softened. “Your Majesty, your thinking is very enlightened. I apologize for my rudeness just now. But your viewpoint is too vague… There is no evidence to prove that God exists objectively. The Church claims the Pope is God’s representative on Earth and that only the Pope can hear the oracle. But Pope Aug III burned Tacitus, and now you are refuting Aug… I don’t believe the Church’s subjective fallacies, not unless I can verify them myself.”

“I will let you see right now.” The Pope took two steps forward, raised his hand, and snuffed out the candle on the table. The cell was instantly plunged into darkness.

“I can’t see anything now!” Edwen grumbled in dissatisfaction.

“Can you write and calculate in the dark?”

“How is that possible?”

The Pope struck a flint and lit the candle, and the room was once again filled with light. He turned and asked, “What is light?”

“What is light?” Edwen frowned in thought, finally shaking his head. “I can’t explain it now… Once I’ve completed my heliocentric research, I’ll study the nature of light.”

“And what if your lifespan is not long enough to complete your research on light?” the Pope asked.

Edwen shook his head forlornly. “Then there’s nothing I can do. I can only let later generations continue the research.”

“Let me tell you my understanding of light.” The Pope smiled faintly and began, “You cannot write in the dark. The light illuminates the room, but it also limits the scope of your writing. Therefore, I believe light establishes a rule, and you can only complete your writing within that rule.”

“Where does the rule that lights this cell come from?”

Edwen glanced at the wooden table and said, “The candle.”

“I gave you the candle.” The Pope nodded with a smile. “I established the rule that you would write in this cell, or not write, and when you would write. This is God’s guidance to me. Because God establishes all rules.”

“Sophistry! Pure sophistry.” Edwen’s beard bristled with anger. “You don’t emit light; the candle does. It’s a natural phenomenon, an objective phenomenon that awaits my research!”

“But you are emitting light,” the Pope interjected. “Your research, your ideas, they illuminate the path of research for future generations, and they also define the direction of their research. For example, heliocentrism and the nature of light. Therefore, you establish rules.”

“Then who illuminated your path?”

“Tacitus…” Edwen said blankly.

“And if we trace it further back? All the way back to the origin of humanity… Who illuminated our path? Who established the rules of human development?”

The Pope’s gentle voice was like a clap of thunder, making Edwen’s ears ring. He clutched his head, crouched on the ground, and said in pain, “It’s natural law… Don’t ask me who established natural law!”

“I call Him God.” The Pope shook his head with a chuckle, then asked, “I’m very curious. You knew you would be burned by the Inquisition, so why did you keep calculating your formulas?”

“Curiosity,” Edwen said, shaking his head. He slowly got to his feet, weak and drained.

“Curiosity, the thirst for knowledge. I call these the instinct to think.” The Pope nodded, sat down on the edge of the filthy, cluttered wooden bed, and said, “Humanity has three great instincts: survival, procreation, and thought. Thinking is the process from curiosity to seeking knowledge, to exploration, and then to observation, study, research, and utilization. Whether you are willing or not, thinking helps humans survive better. With survival comes procreation. So what is the purpose of procreation?”

“Humanity has always been searching for the answer to this question, unless you are incapable of thinking. So why are we able to think?”

“Are you trying to say that God makes people think?”

“Obviously.” The Pope nodded. “Hundreds of thousands of years ago, in the ignorant age of humanity, our ancestors learned to think. But they didn’t know why people could think, so they used a god to explain all their doubts. Humans erected a supreme beacon for themselves. His appearance was like a lighthouse, illuminating the dark realm of human thought. From then on, humanity had a direction and a motivation to move forward: to get closer to God.”

“What does God look like?” Edwen asked, full of suspicion and uncertainty. He was now beginning to believe that the Pope before him was indeed God’s representative.

But the Pope shook his head. “Humans cannot imagine things that do not exist. Conversely, everything humans imagine has a basis in reality. The appearance of God…” He pointed at Edwen’s chest and said, “is your heart’s greatest desire: to be omniscient, omnipotent, the creator of all things, and eternal. God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light. Was it man who wanted light, or God who wanted light? The answer is, God said there should be light; God said humanity wants light. Light is the path, the Law, the limit, the authority. It is the light of nature, and also the Light of the Mind of humanity.”

“From ancient times to the present, all of humanity’s activities have revolved around the three instincts of survival, procreation, and thought. All religions that worshipped anomalous gods have perished, because anomalous gods could not satisfy humanity’s desire—to approach God, to become God. Religious faith unified humanity’s Light of the Mind, and it did indeed allow a portion of people to grasp a part of God’s authority… Do you want to travel to the moon?”

“I do!” Edwen said without hesitation.

“You can’t!” the Pope said decisively. “But if your wish could unify the Light of the Mind of the masses, establish rules, and point the way, someone will eventually set foot on the moon. Although you would be long dead, your spirit would have fulfilled its original wish. Placed tens of thousands of years ago, wouldn’t that be a miracle? Wouldn’t that count as eternal and undying?”

Edwen took a deep breath and muttered to himself, “No wonder Pope Aug III wanted to burn Tacitus. They were fighting for authority over the Light of the Mind.”

“Pope Aug III lost. Because Tacitus followed God’s will.”

The Pope elaborated, “God, or what you call natural law, has defined the path of human development: think, survive, and procreate to grow stronger; more people think, survive, and procreate to grow even stronger, and so on in a cycle. Aug restricted humanity’s instinct to think. He violated God’s will.”

Edwen’s eyes lit up. “So you’re letting me out? But I research science. Aren’t you afraid that one day, science will replace religious faith?”

The Pope closed his eyes and remained silent for a long time. When he opened them, he said, “This cell is too small, and the candle is too dim to accommodate too many people. I hope you can erect a new lighthouse and build a larger house. The larger the area of darkness you illuminate, the greater God’s power becomes, and the more authority we can borrow.”

Tacitus mumbled with a complicated expression, “You admit that humanity is creating a god…”

The Pope smiled and shook his head. “Humans cannot imagine things that do not exist, which means humans cannot create the world. The world was created by God, and He allows us to transform it. The god the Church believes in is merely a projection of the true God, a beacon He uses to guide us. Science can establish new beacons, concentrating humanity’s Light of the Mind, and through building upon and revising them, illuminate the path toward God.”

“Why do we need to get closer to God?” Tacitus couldn’t help but ask.

“It’s not for us to choose. God has already established the rules. The ultimate expression of survival, procreation, and thought is to get closer to God. If we do not, we will surely be eliminated. Too many species on this Earth have been abandoned by God, and new species will embark on the path of seeking Him. I truly hope that there isn’t a second Earth beyond our sun,” the Pope said with a sigh.

“Go. Use your subjectivity to explore objectivity. Uncover the secret of the procreation instinct. This is God’s will.”

The Pope pulled the cell door open. Edwen hesitated for a moment before walking out. The warm sunlight stung his eyes. He looked back at the Pope in the darkness, bowed deeply, then turned and walked away.

Several hundred years later, humanity entered the electrical age. Various scientific theories sprang up like bamboo shoots after a spring rain. Among them, the quantum observer effect and the Big Bang theory almost pointed to a Creator. In reality, these theories were more like conjectures, but they served as lighthouses to guide the direction of scientific research, thereby gathering humanity’s Light of the Mind, concentrating its strength, and constantly exploring and building upwards—a method similar to how religion uses faith to unite people’s hearts.

And, of course, there was the terrifying Fermi paradox…

The Earth scene simulated by the X-3 didn’t help Victor completely crack the secret of the procreation instinct. But he drew inspiration from it and came up with several hypotheses.

In this world where gods made their presence known, the instincts of survival, procreation, and thought covered all intelligent beings, including elves and humans.

When man thinks, God laughs. It ought to be a laugh of joy, not of ridicule.

Chapter 469: An Attempt

“Philosophy is the study of self-awareness, understanding the world, and then pursuing self-improvement. To put it simply, it’s about what powers and authorities I can master in this world and how to master them.”

Although the laws of this other world and Earth are different, the starting point for intelligent humans is the same. They share the same instincts for survival, procreation, and thought, resulting in social structures that are astonishingly similar between the two worlds. Some theories are even universal.

For example, the Radiant Church’s theory on the power of the mind.

The fire of the mind is the master of the self. You can decide to sleep in today, watch some TV, eat some snacks, or you can choose to study, go on a diet, or head out for exercise.

The Touch of the Mind is the process of influencing oneself and the external world through their interaction. As you are out exercising, you notice that the small river by your house has a swift current. So, you decide to spend a few months building a watermill on its bank.

The Light of the Mind is establishing rules to realize your ideas. You take out a sum of money, purchase materials, and hire craftsmen, demanding they build the watermill at a designated location within a specified time, all according to your vision. A few months later, the watermill is completed, and your idea has been made real.

The Light of the Mind is, in essence, the mastery of power and authority under a set of rules. The weakest Light of the Mind for an ordinary person might be something like, “If you don’t listen to me, I’ll beat you up,” which then gets them arrested by the police and thrown in a detention center. An entrepreneur’s Light of the Mind might be, “Let’s all work hard so we can go public this year,” which, due to tax evasion, lands the entrepreneur in prison. The First Emperor’s Light of the Mind was to conscript a million laborers to build the Great Wall, but because this violated the people’s fundamental instincts for survival and procreation, the Qin Empire fell after just two generations. The Light of the Mind of Sage Confucius, however, was extraordinary. It illuminated Huaxia for several thousand years, and through the continuous efforts of Confucian scholars, it was built up and perfected, forming the incomparably glorious Huaxia Civilization, even radiating to neighboring smaller nations. But because the light of Confucianism restricted the people’s instinct for thought, Huaxia had no choice but to erect a new lighthouse, break its shackles, and be reborn in blood during the modern era when the West was liberating its minds and advancing rapidly in science and technology.

As a transmigrator, Victor’s greatest advantage was the knowledge he brought from Earth. His Light of the Mind illuminated the path of development for the House of Randell and had a profound impact on the human kingdoms. In particular, the York family’s implementation of his tenant system already showed the nascent form of centralized feudal power. The potential that this unleashed within the human kingdoms was in line with Victor’s desire to resist the mysterious invaders.

However, this was a world with extraordinary beings. The Light of the Mind was not only expressed through swaying the hearts of people; it was also an extraordinary power of an individual’s will to interfere with reality.

Tournans’s mind had perfect control over his body, allowing his physical strength to grow to roughly twenty times that of a normal person. He could also draw upon his inner potential to simulate beastmen talents like Bloodlust and berserk. The power of his mind could even perceive danger and distort the senses and intuition of an Ogre Warlord.

The existence of the First Sacred Warrior was proof of the extraordinary nature of the power of the mind.

What Victor coveted was not Tournans’s strength, but his understanding and application of the world’s Laws. Tournans was like a pioneer, fumbling his way toward his goal and mastering the powers along his path. Victor had the path of a Wind Walk Archer, but before him lay only darkness; he couldn’t tell north from south and had no clear direction to advance.

Barol’s discussion about the relationship between Mystic Warriors and fertility had given Victor a new line of thought: since the intelligent humans of both worlds shared common fundamental instincts, why not imitate Earth’s theological systems and erect his own lighthouse? Through building upon it, using verification and falsification, he could continuously approach the Origin Law of this other world and master his own powers from within it.

Of course, Earth’s theology, which stemmed from human instincts, also had its flaws. It pointed out that the ultimate expression of the procreation instinct meant that intelligent beings of different types but equal standing could not coexist; they could only establish a hierarchical relationship where one’s Light of the Mind must illuminate the path of the other (“You must listen to me”).

However, the intelligent beings of this other world had coexisted to this day. There was conflict, there were vassals, but there were also alliances. Humans, elves, and Barbarians had at least coexisted as equals for tens of thousands of years.

The best thing about setting up his own mental lighthouse was that he didn’t have to be afraid of making mistakes. Humans could not imagine things that didn’t exist, so no matter how he went about it, he would still be jumping around inside the great house of the world’s Laws. The lighthouse would illuminate what it could, and if he took a wrong turn, he could just tear it down and build a new one.

Victor still held a trump card.

The Golden Toad Mystic Form was, in fact, a complete method for cultivating the power of the mind developed by the Daoist priests of ancient Huaxia. Its Internal vision was like the fire of the mind, reflecting the world with one’s mind was similar to the Touch of the Mind, and Oneness with nature was almost equivalent to the Light of the Mind.

Victor didn’t know if the Golden Toad Mystic Form was useful on Earth. But since Tournans had reached the realm of the Touch of the Mind, it proved that the Laws of this world supported the power of the mind transcending the physical body. This coincided perfectly with the pursuits of the Golden Toad Mystic Form.

Victor intended to modify the cultivation method of the Golden Toad Mystic Form to make it compatible with the laws of this world. Before that, however, Victor had to gain some understanding of this world’s laws.

This required him to draw upon Earth’s theological systems and use X-3 to conduct hypothetical deductions.

First, Victor hypothesized the existence of a supreme Creator. He awakened from Chaos and manifested the four great Elemental Seas of Earth, Fire, Wind, and Water. He established the first world Law—the Elemental Cycle: the Elemental Seas transform into void elements, the void elements transform into all things in the world, and all things return to the Elemental Seas in the form of void elements.

As the void elements converted from the Elemental Seas descended, they intertwined. The void elements were about to form a second Elemental Sea, creating a cycle with the first. The Creator disliked such a world, so He transformed the void elements into four stable world elements: earth, fire, air, and water, representing matter, energy, space, and time, respectively.

This was the second Law: The stability of the elements of the physical world.

This alone was not enough. The Creator began to reshape the world. His will split into many parts, each carrying out its own task. Due to the Law of the stability of real-world elements, the Creator’s conscious entities combined with the four elements and became many Primordial Gods. They were avatars of the Creator, possessing the immense power of the Light of the Mind to command the Elemental Seas and reshape the world.

The third Law: The Light of the Mind of the Primordial Gods reshapes the world.

The Primordial Gods,秉承 the Creator’s will to enrich the forms of the world, each had their own preferences. One primordial being had a particular fondness for swamp environments; the ancient Alchemists called him the King of the Black Marsh. Another primordial being loved soil and rock; she was Mother Earth in the Will Side of the Alchemical humans.

Mother Earth created a plain, but no sooner had she left than the King of the Black Marsh came over and turned it into a swamp. Every primordial being vied to reshape the world. In imitation of the Creator, they began to create primordial life forms to serve as their helpers. The King of the Black Marsh’s ancient Serpent Lizards appeared, and Mother Earth created the Mountain Giants.

With more helpers came more encounters, and conflict was inevitable. Giants killed ancient Serpent Lizards, and ancient Serpent Lizards killed Giants. To deal with the strife between primordial life, the King of the Black Marsh continued to create new life to protect the ancient Serpent Lizards. The Marsh Giant Lizard was born.

However, this was a vicious cycle. The more life there was, the more intense the wars became. The Primordial Gods produced numerous offspring, and their power was dispersed throughout their bloodlines.

The ancient Serpent Lizards gave birth to Hydra Lizards, and the Marsh Giant Lizards evolved into all sorts of swamp creatures. These beings possessed the two most important instincts: survival and procreation. A portion of them developed intelligence and evolved into Lizardmen.

Hydra Lizards, enormous and extraordinarily powerful, were capable of digging waterways and changing the landscape. The Lizardmen could not leave their swamp environment; if they wanted to survive, procreate, and grow stronger, they had to assist the Hydra Lizards in expanding the swamp’s territory.

If the swamp creatures continued to multiply and grow stronger, defeating all their competitors, the entire world would be transformed into the swampy divine kingdom of the King of the Black Marsh. However, the primordial beings who favored rivers and lakes created ferocious aquatic creatures to resist the Hydra Lizards, such as the giant Water Lizards, the razor-toothed Tiger-striped Fish, the riverbank Fishmen, and so on.

The physical world became rich and colorful, presenting a stable diversity, which represented the world’s Laws trending towards stability and variety. At this point, the supreme Creator had become a pan-conscious entity, continuously reshaping the world and establishing the Laws of the physical realm. The King of the Black Marsh was likewise the pan-conscious entity of all swamp creatures, and his Light of the Mind illuminated their path of development.

The supreme Creator perfected its own Laws by creating, reshaping, and stabilizing the world. He bestowed upon the Primordial Gods the Light of the Mind to command the Elemental Seas and reshape the world. The Primordial Gods bestowed upon the descendants of the great beasts the Light of the Mind to command the void elements and stabilize the world. The ancient great beasts bestowed upon their bloodline descendants the Light of the Mind for survival, procreation, evolution through conflict, and adaptive evolution.

The greater the total consciousness of all living beings, the more power over the Laws the Creator mastered. His sea of consciousness commanded the Elemental Seas, transforming Chaos into a part of itself.

The world was expanding outward.

The ultimate end for an intelligent species’ procreation and development was to reshape the world into a form that suited them. A move toward a uniform world form would mean that the pan-conscious entity of one of the Creator’s avatars would gain supreme authority. At the same time, the Laws mastered by the Creator would diminish, and the world would stagnate, gradually heading toward the end point of Chaos.

Therefore, the supreme Creator’s pan-consciousness had a corrective mechanism to maintain the world’s diverse balance. When a certain race threatened the balance of the world, it would face strong resistance from other species. This meant that any species had the potential for crisis evolution, allowing them to run faster, perceive more acutely, become stronger, become smarter… or even suddenly possess some kind of extraordinary talent.

Rather than saying they suddenly possessed it, it would be more accurate to say it was awakened. Because if one traced a creature’s procreation backward, one would find the ancient great beasts and the Primordial Gods.

Procreation, or rather, bloodline, held the secrets of the gods.

This model of a Creator that Victor had hypothesized still had many shortcomings. Those evil gods with their own self-awareness did not fit the model of a pan-conscious deity. But it did explain the extraordinary phenomenon of the Light of the Mind interfering with reality.

First, a creature’s power of the mind was not fundamentally different from the Creator’s power of the mind. It possessed the same imaginative quality of being able to mobilize elements to change reality. The Lord of Radiance’s Pool of Holy Power was an imitation of the Creator’s sea of consciousness; by collecting the power of the mind from human believers, it gained the authority to command void elements and change reality.

Second, the form of an individual creature was stable. An ordinary human could not use their imagination to turn themselves into a Centaur, an Ogre, or another species. But individual creatures possessed the bloodline potential bestowed by their progenitor gods. Moon Elves could control the wind, Gnolls could have Bloodlust, Ogres could go berserk… but not every creature could master its bloodline talents.

In reality, only a few Ogres possessed the berserk talent and a keen intuition for danger. Without exception, they were all individuals with powerful minds.

If an individual creature was seen as a personal world, then it was in itself a collection of the Laws of the physical world. Its power of the mind was equivalent to the ruler of that personal world. The stronger the power of the mind, the higher its authority to rule its own laws, and the more bloodline potential it could unlock.

The question was, how could one strengthen their own power of the mind?

Victor had already found the answer—crisis evolution.

There were two situations that could trigger the crisis evolution mechanism: death and extinction.

Extinction corresponded to procreation. Victor guessed that the power of the mind of an individual insect was extremely weak, but their ability to procreate was exceptionally strong. If insects faced a crisis of extinction, a special individual could condense the collective power of the mind of its group, manifesting in an aberrant state and becoming a Biological Aberration—incapable of procreation, but massive in size and able to absorb the bloodlines of other creatures. After the Aberration died, its flesh and blood would contaminate other creatures, gradually leading to the evolution of a new species.

Alternatively, Mystic Warriors locked their own procreation instinct to free up more power of the mind, allowing them to mobilize other aspects of their bloodline potential.

Of course, Victor would never choose this path.

What was the point of power if you had to be alone your whole life?

Death corresponded to the destruction of one’s personal world, a terror felt by the ruling mind. The Knights’ Trial of Life and Death could maximally stimulate the bloodline to resonate with the Elemental Sea. Narsen’s power of the mind had continuously grown stronger in life-and-death battles. Victor had a personal understanding of this as well; it was when facing a Savage Gnoll that he had awakened his Wind Walk talent.

However, the Trial of Life and Death was extremely risky. If you died, you were really dead. This extreme method of cultivating the power of the mind was not sustainable.

The Golden Toad Mystic Form could solve this problem. In fact, the Life Concealment of the Golden Toad Mystic Form was a simulation of the mental state of life-and-death annihilation.

By cultivating the Golden Toad Mystic Form, Victor had awakened the Moon Elf’s Blind Sense talent. He obtained the scroll left behind by the Sword Saint Draven, mastered the void wind element, and created the Azure Blade. In the Gloomy Forest, while repairing the Law Crystal of the Alchemy Tower, he interacted with the void water element and unintentionally entered the Internal vision of the Golden Toad Mystic Form, gaining the Activation talent.

After that, Victor had never managed to gain any new bloodline talents from cultivating the Golden Toad Mystic Form.

Regarding this point, Victor had a vague idea where the problem lay… he was somewhat repulsed by his elven bloodline, and deep down, he didn’t want to become a member of the Other races.

But today, he decided to verify his hypothesis.

Victor left his study, taking four Alchemical militia with him. He crossed the corridor, descended the spiral staircase, and climbed to the top of the castle tower.

“Guard this spot. Don’t let anyone disturb me,” Victor instructed Reno, before entering the attic alone.

The cramped attic was silent and dim. Victor pushed open two opposing windows, and air, along with sunlight, rushed into the room, whistling in his ears.

Victor faced a mirror, which reflected a handsome youth with a slender, well-proportioned figure and facial features as exquisite as a work of art. His glossy black hair accentuated his jade-white skin. His ears were slightly pointed, his long, thin eyebrows were as straight as swords, and his pair of dark, deep eyes shimmered with a glow that made him appear both gentle and mysterious.

“Not bad-looking at all…”

Victor struck a few rather narcissistic poses in front of the mirror, took a deep breath, and looked at his reflection, whispering, “Actually, being an elf wouldn’t be so bad. At least I’m better looking than most silver-ranked female knights… First, I’ll use X-3 to suggest to myself that I’m a High Moon Elf with the Wind Whisper talent. Then, I’ll use the form of a Moon Elf as my visualization object, and X-3 will simultaneously record the self-adjustments of the Golden Toad Mystic Form… Let’s see, what kind of changes will the cultivation method undergo?”

With all preparations made, Victor lay down on his side on the bed, curling into the fetal position. He closed his eyes and visualized himself as a High Moon Elf. His main consciousness gradually entered the state of Life Concealment—devoid of thought, desire, and worldly cares. His breathing and heartbeat synchronized, becoming intermittent and barely perceptible, representing the budding and cessation of life.

The gentle breeze, in time with his heartbeat, sometimes swirled around his body, and sometimes dissipated without a trace.

An unknown amount of time passed before Victor’s main consciousness awakened from the darkness. The ability to observe was the first thing to become clear. He examined himself from a high, commanding perspective, like a lofty god observing a world.

Victor “saw” a field of emerald green, and within it, a streak of dim, fresh red. Beyond the emerald were four other radiances: dark green, indigo, brownish-yellow, and gold. The dark green radiance continuously merged into the emerald; the brownish-yellow radiance clung to the surface of the emerald, neither increasing nor decreasing; the golden radiance absorbed the emerald to maintain its own unceasing glow; and whenever the golden radiance flickered, the indigo radiance outside the emerald would change along with it.

He understood. The emerald was his Moon Elf bloodline, and the red was his human bloodline. The four radiances represented the four elements. The void water element automatically poured into his body, strengthening his Moon Elf bloodline; the lazy, solid earth element was like the world’s shell, maintaining the stable structure of his body; the golden radiance, representing his Soul Fire, drew energy from the emerald to control the indigo void wind element.

Only then did Victor realize he could “think.” He tried to make the emerald begin to flow. At once, the golden Soul Fire burned brighter, its speed of absorbing the emerald accelerating. As the Soul Fire blazed, the emerald finally began to move. To his surprise, he found that the brownish-yellow light also grew stronger, maintaining a balanced and stable form. However, the speed at which the dark green radiance merged into the emerald couldn’t quite keep up with the Soul Fire’s consumption, and the red streak grew even dimmer…

This was the new Surge talent!

Victor stopped the surging of the water element, and everything returned to balance. He continued to observe for a while, then tried to perceive the outside world. And so, he ascended, “seeing” his own body lying on the bed. The scene around his body was clear, but it became blurry beyond a two-meter diameter.

This was the Blind Sense talent! Could it be strengthened?

Victor “opened” his eyes wider with effort, and the scene inside the attic slowly became vivid and clear. A thought struck him, “Can I see the scenery outside the attic?”

First the windowsill, then his perception spread down the stone walls of the tower. Victor could even “see” the mortar filling the gaps between the green bricks.

“Why am I climbing? I’m not a physical entity right now… I can fly!”

The scenery changed in an instant. Victor “saw” the stables below the castle, where a groom in a coarse flax tunic was cleaning out horse manure with a rake. The next moment, he was at the top of a nearby tree, observing a family of squirrels in a tree hollow. Then he was by the well in the courtyard, “watching” several maids draw water and wash clothes.

It was a wondrous state. He couldn’t see sunlight, smell odors, or hear sounds, yet he could clearly observe the scenery within a thirty-meter radius. Beyond that, everything was a blur. But the speed at which the scenes switched was incredibly fast, almost like riding the wind.

The wind is carrying information to me! This is the ultimate talent of the High Moon Elves—Wind Whisper!

Victor wasn’t excited. He had become the joyous, free wind itself, playfully wanting to lift the maids’ skirts, though he failed, his strength too faint. He swept past the well, flew towards the Swiftbird pens, encountered a bloodsucking horsefly, and plucked it from a Swiftbird’s neck.

The poor horsefly tumbled in Victor’s “embrace,” beating its wings desperately to no avail. Finally, it was carried to a bird’s nest on a branch and dropped directly into the wide-open mouth of a fledgling begging its parents for food.

“You’re welcome…”

Victor rustled through the leaves with a sigh and flew off into the distance. Just as he was having fun, he suddenly felt a wave of panic. He knew instinctively:

X-3 is issuing a warning, requesting to stop the Golden Toad Mystic Form, or X-3 will cease to exist!

This is Victor’s hypothesized worldview, not reality!

Chapter 470: The Path

“Something’s wrong with X-3?!”

Victor was alarmed and immediately disengaged Wind Whisper. The next second, his consciousness returned to the area of Blind Sense within the attic. He perceived that his posture and breathing rhythm had changed. His body was fully relaxed, and his long, deep breaths accelerated the airflow, maximizing his absorption of the void water element.

Victor didn’t have time to think. He quickly withdrew from his Blind Sense and used his Internal vision to inspect the changes in his bloodline again.

The furiously burning golden Soul Fire was rapidly contracting. After it stabilized completely, its brightness and size were about one-sixth larger than before, indicating that his Spirit attribute had increased by at least two points. The brownish-yellow radiance remained at its original intensity, meaning his Physique attribute had not been enhanced. The indigo glow of the wind element was much brighter and more dazzling; his Perception attribute had certainly risen as well. The verdant green, however, had thinned considerably, showing a single, jade-green main artery. Fortunately, the void water element was continuously replenishing the verdant glow, indicating that using the Surge and Wind Whisper abilities consumed the water element stored in his body, but it could eventually be restored, and might even raise the upper limit of his Life attribute. But the bright red line representing his human bloodline had grown even thinner.

Overall, this session of Mystic Form cultivation had enhanced Victor’s power of the mind and his Moon Elf bloodline. His Spirit, Perception, and Life attributes had improved, while his Physique attribute remained unchanged. But his human bloodline had been further weakened.

The most pressing concern now was, what was wrong with X-3?

Victor was still in the state of cultivating the Golden Toad Mystic Form. As he felt his bright red human bloodline weakening with the strengthening of his Moon Elf bloodline, a sense of understanding dawned on him.

His main consciousness had left his inner world, yet his body’s posture and breathing rhythm had changed. This was clearly X-3 mobilizing his subconscious mind, spontaneously pushing the Golden Toad Mystic Form to make adaptive adjustments.

A Spirit attribute of sixteen was the standard for an initial-rank Silver Knight and was perfectly capable of mastering the Surge ability, but it wasn’t enough to activate the Wind Whisper ability. Only in the deathly stillness of his cultivation state, with his power of the mind temporarily boosted, had Victor managed to barely toy with Wind Whisper.

If Victor continued to cultivate this way, his power of the mind and his Moon Elf bloodline would continue to grow stronger until he mastered the Wind Whisper ability, which represented a Gold Bloodline. But his ordinary human bloodline and X-3 would both disappear!

The Wind Whisper ability was clearly within the domain of the Light of the Mind. During the Era of the Chosen, very few High Moon Elves were able to master Wind Whisper. They were all members of the Elven Royal Court, possessing lofty status and formidable power. In a way, a Moon Elf with Wind Whisper was even more terrifying than a Gold Knight who commanded the winds. The Sword Saint Draven’s battle against the Ogre King was a case in point; he had relied on his Flowing Fire Arrow combined with the Wind Whisper ability to strike from beyond visual range, securing victory early on.

Furthermore, the bloodline of a Moon Elf with Wind Whisper was extremely potent. A male of this bloodline could impregnate even a female Gold Knight in her prime. And she would invariably give birth to a Gold Bloodline descendant with an affinity for the wind element.

Victor now had to make a choice: the Wind Whisper Moon Elf bloodline, or his ordinary human bloodline?

Without hesitation, he chose X-3. He immediately stopped cultivating the Golden Toad Mystic Form… no, it should be called the Silver Moon Mystic Form!

X-3 was called a bio-chip, but it was actually a new functional area in Victor’s brain. If the Moon Elf bloodline completely replaced his ordinary human bloodline, his life form would change, and X-3, having lost its foundation, would naturally disappear.

Putting aside X-3’s Overlimit function for a moment, its information organization and logical Deduction capabilities had helped Victor see through complex phenomena to the essence of problems, allowing him to summarize the theory that bloodlines were Law and the mind was the master. Based on this theory, he designed a cultivation method where the mind drove the bloodline, and the bloodline, in turn, nourished the mind.

The facts proved that Victor’s hypothesis was partially correct, and his method of cultivating body and mind was remarkably effective.

Without X-3, Victor would become stupid! So stupid he probably couldn’t even manage his duties as a lord properly.

Between wisdom and the Wind Whisper Moon Elf bloodline, Victor had to—and could only—choose wisdom.

In truth, the key to the cultivation method Victor designed was the Golden Toad Mystic Form. For an ordinary person to cultivate the Golden Toad Mystic Form through standing stances and visualization, it would take decades of painstaking effort to progress from Life Concealment to Internal vision, and then to Annihilation, with no guarantee of success. With the help of X-3’s functions, Victor had reached the state of Annihilation in just five years. Moreover, X-3’s auto-suggestion was indispensable. It had also corrected and recorded the evolution of the Golden Toad Mystic Form, ultimately yielding the cultivation method for the Silver Moon Mystic Form.

If Victor allowed X-3 to disappear, the Silver Moon Mystic Form cultivation method it recorded would be gone too… Once this cultivation session ended, what would he do next?

Wind Whisper wasn’t the end of the Moon Elf bloodline; there was still the Sun Elf beyond that. The Sword Saint Draven had risen from obscurity, wandering with his harp and bow, and leveling up by killing monsters. Victor didn’t think he had that kind of luck, nor did he see the need to abandon his position as a lord to run off and become a Bard.

The Silver Moon Mystic Form was still rudimentary and needed further optimization in many areas. As long as X-3 was around, Victor could continue to cultivate the Silver Moon Mystic Form at any time, and he’d even have more and better options.

The Golden Toad Mystic Form and X-3 were like a ladder for Victor, allowing him to climb a great tree and pick its fruit. Without the ladder, Victor would be stuck, unable to go up or down, left standing on a branch, drooling at the sweetest fruit. In other words, with the ladder in hand, he didn’t need to bet everything on a single tree; he could harvest the fruit of other great trees as well. For example, the human bloodline.

Pope Clement, through Bishop Pello, had provided Victor with some documented information about the ancient Elves.

The documents showed that elven society was a matriarchy with a strict hierarchy. The Moon Elf Queen passed down her title from generation to generation. Below the Moon Elves were the Dark Elves, Greater Elves, Wood Elves, and Wild Elves. The high-and-mighty Moon Elves and Dark Elves were arrogant and condescending towards the lower-ranking elves, yet the Wood Elves and Wild Elves revered the Elven Queen as a deity, calling her the Daughter of the Moon Goddess. The elven caste system, just like that of the swamp creatures, was a form of bloodline worship pointing back to an ancestral god.

In fact, the Elves did have an object of faith—the Moon Goddess, Freya. The Elven Queen was the high priest of the Moon Goddess, and they claimed to be able to hear the Moon Goddess’s will.

How could an ancestral god that was a pan-conscious entity issue decrees? Either Victor’s hypothesis was flawed, or the Elven Royal Court was lying… If it were true, that would be terrifying.

Freya, the Moon Goddess, was also called Freyja. Frey means “sun” in the elven language. Was the goddess Freyja the sister of the sun? His wife? Or his daughter? If we assume that Frey, who represented the Law of the Sun, was the progenitor of the Elves, then the Moon Goddess might truly possess an independent consciousness.

The Sword Saint Draven had mysteriously disappeared. Williams claimed he was killed by the Spirit Knight Veronica, but most people believed Draven went to the Endless Forest to find his elven kin. This was because the main purpose of the marriage alliance between the Moon Elf royal family and the Wimbledon family was to use the bloodline-purifying ability of a High-ranked Knight to cultivate a Sun Elf.

Whether Draven returned to the Elves to be a stud horse or to inherit the throne of an Elven Empire made no essential difference. The key was the Moon Goddess’s call to him… The Spirit Knight Veronica had just fallen, and Draven ran off… The more one thought about it, the more terrifying it became.

This was the main reason Victor was repulsed by the elven bloodline. He had no desire to be ordered around by the Moon Goddess, without an ounce of will to resist.

Was the ordinary human bloodline truly worthless?

The Will Side of the Alchemical militia contained information on some of the ancient colossal beasts. The King of the Black Marsh had evolved into descendants like the Hydra Lizard, Lizardmen, and Marsh Dragon-Lizard; Mother Earth corresponded to creatures like the white ape, Centaur, and Goatman; the Titans corresponded to Ogres and perhaps Goblins as well; and the King of Gluttony corresponded to Gnolls. In the Era of the Chosen, the Elves worshipped the Moon Goddess Freya, the northern Barbarians worshipped the Sky God Donar, and the Dwarves worshipped Karon, a Giant son of Mother Earth.

Only humanity had no object of faith, at least not the humans of the ancient Alchemical Empire or the Era of the Chosen. From this, Victor deduced that the Lord of Radiance, a pan-conscious entity, was a creation of the Alchemical Empire. It was more like a tool than a master of humanity.

Ancient humans were already so powerful that they didn’t need the protection of gods, and they certainly had the confidence to back it up.

So where did humanity originate?

Did he even need to think about that question? One look at Sylvia was enough to know: an incarnation of the Elemental Sea, a direct descendant of the Creator.

Of course, that was patting himself on the back a little.

Victor guessed that when the Creator split its will, it intentionally or unintentionally created some flawed gods. A normal Primordial God possessed both the Light of the Mind and the authority to command the Elemental Sea, which was why they had the power to reshape the world at will. The flawed ones either only mastered the Creator’s Light of the Mind or only the authority to command the Elemental Sea… They had a miserable time of it and could only stick together for survival.

But they were, after all, incarnations of the Creator. As the world’s Laws became more diverse and intertwined, this was also reflected in them. These gods hadn’t participated in reshaping the world, but they had retained their most primitive, singular forms. Their descendants evolved into Elves, Barbarians, and humans. And humans were the most primitive form of life.

This hypothesis of Victor’s was full of holes, but the innate Wizardry of a Wizard was indeed directional, corresponding to a single Law of the world. And a Gold Knight could only crudely apply the power of the Elemental Sea. Combining the two, they had cobbled together the powerful Alchemical Empire. By that time, the world’s Laws had become intertwined, and the descendants of the Primordial Gods no longer possessed the power of their ancestors. The human-led Alchemical Empire rose to prominence.

Victor was not a Knight, and the Moon Elf bloodline in him meant he could not become a Wizard. But whatever exists is rational.

Since Victor possessed two bloodlines, why couldn’t he forge his own path?

The Moon Elf’s Wind Walk, Blind Sense, Surge, and Wind Whisper abilities, plus the human’s savage physique, keen intuition, and Touch of the Mind, combined with X-3’s Overlimit, would only be more powerful than a Sun Elf! He might even be able to awaken the Light of the Mind that Tournans dreamed of.

With the Silver Moon Mystic Form as a foundation, it was worth a try!

Furthermore, Victor had already mastered the basic theory of mind and bloodline and a set of effective cultivation methods. The next step was to use X-3 and the Golden Toad Mystic Form to experiment and develop a complete mind-bloodline cultivation system to train the Mind Warriors of the House of Randell!

And, the Alchemy Tower had generated the Golden Toad Mystic Form skill. Because the original Golden Toad Mystic Form wasn’t compatible with the bloodline Laws of this other world, the Alchemical humans couldn’t load it. If Victor could figure out a new Mystic Form that Alchemical humans could cultivate, and then find a way to repair the Alchemy Tower’s memory upload function, what kind of Alchemical militia could the Number Seven Alchemy Tower produce?

Golden Toad militia? That name… whatever, I’ll think about it later.

Victor reined in his thoughts, slowly opened his eyes, and struggled to stand up from the bed. The moment his feet touched the floor, he felt a weakness he had never experienced before.

“I just played around with the Wind Whisper ability for about ten minutes, and it actually consumed more than half of the water element in my body…” Victor shook his head with a wry smile, forced himself to stay alert, and immediately checked X-3’s status.

“Subconscious memory function is intact. Hmm? The latter half of the Silver Moon Mystic Form has changed quite a bit. Good thing I stopped cultivating in time, or it would have been a one-shot deal… Overlimit function is intact. No need to test Apocalypse, I don’t have the stamina right now… Elemental Vision function… My Elemental Vision is… gone?!”

Victor’s vision went black, and he flopped back onto the bed. After a long moment, he came to his senses and consoled himself: “Well, Elemental Vision is gone, so be it. It was a useless skill anyway… Good thing the function that disappeared was Elemental Vision. Heh, I’m really lucky.”

His limbs felt weak as he sat cross-legged and began to cultivate the original Golden Toad Mystic Form to replenish the depleted water element.

Although the Silver Moon Mystic Form was more efficient at absorbing the void water element, Victor wouldn’t dare use it again, even if it killed him.

After cultivating until nightfall, Victor had recovered most of his stamina.

Normally, he should have been fully replenished after so long. This could only mean that the consumption of the Wind Whisper ability was immense, and that the Silver Moon Mystic Form had also raised the upper limit of Victor’s Life attribute. Victor estimated his Life attribute was probably close to thirty points now.

The high Life attribute of the Moon Elves was more about accessible inner potential than regenerative ability. But regardless, a water element concentration of thirty points represented an increase in his level of life. Even if he wasn’t a Gold Bloodline yet, he couldn’t be far off… Victor felt a little better. He once again tested X-3’s Super Sense, Overlimit, and Apocalypse, confirming there were no problems before he pushed open the wooden door and stepped out of the attic.

Reno and Shak, who were guarding the door, bowed to Victor.

“My lord, you’re out,” Reno said obsequiously. His emotional intelligence was much higher than before.

Victor patted Reno’s thick shoulder and asked, “Has anyone come looking for me?”

“My Lady Lilia sent an attendant to ask when you would be returning to Silver Moon Manor,” Shak blurted out. “We had him wait downstairs.”

Tonight, Victor and Lilia had a tryst, but he was in no mood for it now.

“Tell him to go back and inform Lilia that I won’t be returning to Silver Moon Manor for a while.”

Victor shook his head and gave more orders: “Have someone prepare Snow Ear Tea, Kui Root Soup, and dinner for me immediately. I’m so hungry I could eat a whole cow! Right, also, tell Jack to find a way to get some Tiger-striped Fish roe… For the next few days, I’ll need to replenish my water element at any moment.”

Chapter 471

The next morning, two carriages stopped by the drawbridge of Laketon Castle. A dozen servants began to unload exquisite, luxurious furniture and daily necessities from the carriages, carrying them into the castle.

Rudy, the steward of Laketon Castle, hurried out to greet them. He bowed to a woman with an enchanting figure whose face was hidden by a white veil. “My Lady Lilia, good morning.”

“Hmph. I plan to stay at Laketon Castle for a few days. Have your men move my things into the master bedroom,” Lilia said with a slight nod, walking into the castle with a feline grace in her high heels. Marcy, clad in crocodile-hide armor, guarded her from behind.

“Yes, My Lady.” Rudy, the steward, quickly called for the castle servants to help carry the furniture while he caught up to Lilia, following her step for step.

“Where is the Lord Viscount?” Lilia asked casually as she walked.

Rudy answered respectfully, “My lord left Laketon Castle with a few of his Personal Guards before dawn today.”

The crisp, pleasant tapping of high heels came to an abrupt halt. Lilia turned, her shapely brows furrowed as she asked, “Where did he go? When will he be back?”

Lilia’s hazel eyes were clear and pure, shimmering like exquisite gems. Rudy dared not look for long, lowering his head and saying cautiously, “My lord did not say where he was going. He only said to contact him with an Ash Falcon if there was any business.”

Lilia was disappointed, but her expression remained unchanged. She gave a cool nod. “I see… You may go.”

“Yes, My Lady.” Steward Rudy bowed and took his leave.

Seeing the steward walk away, Marcy leaned in and whispered to the distracted Lilia, “My Lady, are we… still moving in?”

Lilia snapped back to her senses and bit her lip. “Of course, we’re moving in! Didn’t I say so? Laketon Castle is close to the town hall… We’ll stay here!” With that, she shot her ferocious female guard a glare, stomped up the stairs, her heels striking the steps with an exasperated thump, thump.

Marcy followed behind Lilia, snickering to herself. Laketon Castle was damp and gloomy, and the air was dreadful—a far cry from the living conditions at Silver Moon Manor. Lilia had used handling official business as an excuse to move into Laketon Castle, intending to have her husband all to herself for a while, but she had unexpectedly come up empty.

Upon reaching the fourth floor, Lilia pushed open the wooden door to the master bedroom. Seeing it was completely empty, her face fell instantly. She swung the door shut with a “bang,” closing Marcy out. Kicking off her high heels, she padded across the room on her tender, fair feet and threw herself onto the large, soft bed. She hugged a goose-down pillow, shaking it forcefully as she murmured to herself:

“You bad man… Don’t you know I’ll grow old?”

The beloved Lilia had been longing for was currently deep within the vast mountains on the westernmost edge of the Randell Fief.

Crack!

A twenty-meter-tall Hemlock tree snapped at its base. The thick, heavy trunk crashed into the crown of a neighboring Hemlock with a tremendous roar, startling countless birds into flight and sending a shower of dark green needles raining down.

A slender figure stood silently amidst the downpour of needles, clad head to toe in black armor. The armor was exquisitely crafted with sleek lines, its surface shimmering with a dark metallic luster. There were no visible metal rings or leather patches at the joints; it looked as if it had been naturally grown as a single, seamless piece.

Victor clenched his gauntleted fists, his dark eyes filled with irrepressible excitement and elation as he stared at the splintered trunk of the Hemlock.

Hemlock wood was dense and as hard as iron, certain to sink in water. Ordinary lumberjacks had to use sharp refined iron saws and felling axes, taking turns sawing and chopping to fell one. It would take two men working together for over half an hour just to bring down a Hemlock tree that was over ten meters tall.

This Hemlock was twenty-two meters tall with a trunk as thick as a man’s waist, yet Victor had shattered it with a single punch!

Nothing made Victor’s blood boil with excitement more than indestructible power. If there was one thing, it would be the physique that could withstand such power.

The Surge talent had mobilized the water elements within Victor’s body, boosting his strength a full six-fold to the level of an initial-rank Knight—equivalent to the combined strength of six Elite Soldiers. The immense force that snapped the Hemlock also recoiled upon Victor. However, the surging water elements made his body as resilient as a military-grade rubber tire, leaving him completely unharmed.

The greatest weakness of a Wind Walk Archer was their fragile body.

The Thorium armor Victor wore was crafted from the carapace of an Ant-man chief. Back then, even a full-strength blow from the Silver Knight Gillian had failed to cleave the chief in two, a testament to the natural sturdiness of its carapace. Infused with Thorium, its defensive capabilities had risen to another level. Even a close-range volley from a military heavy crossbow could not penetrate the Thorium Ant-man armor.

However, the kinetic energy from a heavy crossbow bolt would generate a terrifying impact, inflicting severe blunt-force trauma on the wearer. The Thorium Ant-man armor thus became a burden for a Wind Walk Archer, less practical than light and flexible leather armor. This, in turn, limited their close-combat capabilities.

The Surge talent, which enhanced both strength and physique simultaneously, compensated for Victor’s greatest weakness. The resulting increase in his combat prowess was not a simple matter of one plus one equals two; it was an exponential growth.

Previously, when faced with a Silver-rank earth Knight closing in, Victor’s Azure Blade was useless. He would have to fire two arrows and then pull back, putting immense psychological pressure on both sides. Now, Victor could stand his ground and fire five consecutive shots. The Surge talent allowed him to wield a more powerful Thorium bow and wear Ant-man armor, increasing his range and firing speed, while also greatly enhancing his movement speed, agility, and defenses.

At this moment, Victor felt an unprecedented sense of power. This power stemmed from confidence; he believed that Silver-rank earth Knights and Raging Wave Knights were no longer his match. He would feel no fear even if he were to face a Gold Knight.

A breeze manifested, swirling around his body before quickly transforming into a visible torrent of dark-green air. Victor bent his knees and stomped down hard. The ground instantly caved in as a howling wind lifted him into the air. He leaped fifteen meters high and landed steadily on the ground, completely unscathed.

No longer suppressing the wild joy and pride in his heart, Victor let out a long, clear, and piercing cry. He shot off into the distance like a bolt of lightning, disappearing without a trace in a flash.

The few Alchemical militia standing guard nearby turned to look at Reno almost simultaneously. The first Crouching Ox Militiaman created by the Alchemy Tower scratched the back of his head and turned to Shak. “My lord ran off…”

“I saw,” the Lithe Ape militiaman, Shak, replied expressionlessly.

“What do we do?”

Shak thought for a moment, then looked at Reno with an innocent expression. “We’ll follow your lead.”

“…” Reno’s lips twitched. He said glumly, “My lord is too fast, we can’t catch up… Have a crow follow him. The Alchemical Warhounds will follow the crow, and we’ll follow the Alchemical Warhounds.”

As it turned out, not even the crow could spot its master speeding beneath the forest canopy. It wasn’t until dusk that a thoroughly satisfied Victor, surrounded by Alchemical Warhounds, returned to the mountain stronghold. He first feasted on Tiger-striped Fish roe, then soaked leisurely in a hot bath before lying down on the large bed in his room to take stock of his gains and losses.

As his Moon Elf bloodline purified, Victor’s Elemental Attributes and innate abilities had changed.

Although X-3 had lost its Elemental Vision and data-analysis capabilities, Victor could clearly feel the growth in his Spirit, Perception, and Life attributes.

The Perception attribute was related to the Moon Elf’s extraordinary agility, extraordinary perception, Wind Walk, Blind Sense, and Wind Whisper talents. Victor’s current agility and perception were even greater than they had been in his Overlimit state five years ago—a huge improvement to his fundamental capabilities.

Secondly, Wind Walk had become a passive talent. The swirling breeze consumed none of his vigor, and the vigor-consuming azure gale had been upgraded to a dark-green tempest. With this, Victor had finally mastered Sword Saint Draven’s Azure Moon combat technique. He had used a condensed wind blade to hunt an adult wild boar just today… and though it took dozens of slashes, the thick-skinned beast eventually fell.

Furthermore, the time to condense an Azure Blade with Wind Walk had been reduced to 0.3 seconds, while the charge-up time had been extended to twenty-one seconds. This meant the Azure Blade was more powerful, and his tactics had become more flexible.

The diameter of his Blind Sense talent remained unchanged at 2.2 meters. Victor could now control the airflow within the Blind Sense area to create wind resistance, allowing him to interfere with an opponent’s movements and senses. However, due to the inertia of the replenished airflow, it was difficult for Victor to control the air within the Blind Sense area with fine precision.

To turn Blind Sense into a practical combat ability, he would need more practice and further purification of his Moon Elf bloodline.

Regardless, the Blind Sense talent showed the early form of a combat domain. This was the main difference between a Wind Walk Archer and a Gale Knight. Victor decided to call it the Raging Wind Domain.

Finally, there was the Surge talent.

Victor hadn’t expected Surge to be so similar to a passive talent. It could be activated and deactivated at will, and the degree of enhancement to his strength and physique was entirely under his control, though it had an upper limit. The strength cap from Surge was six times his own strength, while the duration was tied to the amount of void water element stored in his body.

The principle behind Surge was similar to how Tournans used inner potential to amplify external force. The only difference was that the inner potential a Wind Walk Archer mobilized was the void water element.

At maximum enhancement, Surge could be sustained for sixty-seven minutes. The original Golden Toad Mystic Form required 320 minutes to replenish its water element, and natural replenishment would take no less than forty hours. This meant Surge had a cooldown of six hours and twenty minutes. However, Victor rarely needed to maintain high-intensity combat for a full hour. Ranged attacks were his primary means of eliminating enemies.

Thanks to the strength and physique enhancements from Surge, Victor’s maximum combat movement speed was now fifty-two meters per second, and his fastest sprint speed reached an astonishing seventy-eight meters per second. He could sprint for twenty minutes straight, covering a distance of nearly ninety-four kilometers. He could also wield a 450-pound-draw Thorium bow, and the power and range of his Wind Walk arrows were 0.7 times greater than before.

Of course, Victor was still inferior to a Gale Knight in terms of speed, strength, and stamina. A semi-elementalized Gale Knight had no weaknesses in either close or ranged combat and could be considered the bane of a Wind Walk Archer. However, Victor was a different matter. He was no ordinary Wind Walk Archer.

Besides his bloodline talents, Victor’s power of the mind had also been strengthened, specifically manifested in X-3’s Overlimit.

The mind dominates the Laws of bloodlines. Once Victor entered his Overlimit state, his Spirit attribute would break its threshold, causing his thought speed and talent abilities to soar.

X-3 integrated all of this into what it called Apocalypse!

Now, Victor’s base Spirit attribute had increased by at least two points. In his Apocalypse state, his thought process and reflex speed were 0.6 times faster than before, and his perception of time slowed by 0.6 times, creating a divine perspective that put him in control of everything. In addition, the radius of his auditory perception reached 1700 meters; the sounds he captured were filtered and supplemented by X-3, helping him lock onto targets in advance and strike first. The strength amplification from Surge reached the strength of twelve men, with his physique increasing in tandem to a level approaching that of a senior knight. The Raging Wind Domain formed by his Blind Sense immediately gained practical combat value. The power of his Azure Moon and Azure Blade became instantly explosive.

What did this all mean?

Victor could discard his Dragon-Lizard leather armor and his two Adamantine-silver swords, and instead don the Thorium Ant-man armor and wield two Adamantine-refined iron swords, each weighing over thirty-five pounds. In his Apocalypse state, he could cover 110 meters in a second, felling trees as he passed. Even an iron oak tree that took two men to encircle would be severed with a single swing.

Victor was certain that in his Apocalypse state, his close-quarters combat ability had firmly stepped into the ranks of the Gold rank!

Unfortunately, his Apocalypse state now only lasted for 150 seconds, a full four times shorter than the previous twelve minutes.

This was mainly because Surge and the Raging Wind Domain consumed a vast amount of water element.

Victor also discovered an interesting phenomenon: his Activation talent had disappeared… or rather, Activation had become Surge. And Blind Sense was the prerequisite for the Wind Whisper talent.

If he mastered Wind Whisper, would his Raging Wind Domain be just as Draven had described? Would the Azure Moon manifest at will, its wind blades sweeping like a storm, capable of wounding even the Ogre King Vol’gan?

Victor’s heart pounded, but he quickly shook his head. No, no, no matter how strong I get, I’ll just be a Sword Saint using cold weapons. That’s nothing compared to the cruise missiles from Earth… My X-3 is so advanced, it must be more expensive than a missile! As long as I have X-3, even a small increase in my base attributes will lead to an exponential rise in my personal strength… The human bloodline increased my Spirit by one point and Physique by two points. What would happen to my Overlimit and Surge? I’ll hold off on the Silver Moon Mystic Form for now. I must first strengthen my human bloodline, then strengthen my Moon Elf bloodline!

The more Victor thought, the more excited he became. He tossed and turned in bed, not falling into a deep sleep until well after midnight.

For the next ten days, he went nowhere, hiding in the mountain stronghold, using Silent Void and X-3 to modify the Golden Toad Mystic Form to suit his human bloodline. He successfully created three new cultivation mystic forms.

However, Victor’s human bloodline seemed to be locked by some mysterious power. No matter which mystic form he practiced, it remained completely unchanged.

On the eleventh day, Victor awoke from his deep meditation with a dark expression. He slowly walked to the window, staring blankly at the scenery outside, lost in thought.

My method isn’t wrong. I’ve deeply hypnotized myself into believing I’m human and successfully achieved Internal Vision, watching as X-3 adjusted the Golden Toad Mystic Form. Why is it having no effect? Could it be that the elven and human bloodlines cannot coexist? Impossible. If that were true, what would that make the nobles with elven bloodlines? What on earth is the problem?

Victor was completely baffled. He collected himself, walked out of his room, and went to the Knight’s Hall, where he summoned Reno, Jack, Shak, and Busuo.

“Busuo, have any of the over 300 Alchemical humans in the mountain stronghold successfully achieved Internal Vision?” Victor asked the leader of the Alchemical auxiliary soldiers, sitting on the lord’s throne.

“No one,” Busuo answered curtly.

Victor turned his gaze to the leader of The Swamp Scouts. Jack shook his head and said, “None of the Alchemical humans at the Swamp Forward Base have achieved Internal Vision either. Myself included.”

Before Victor could ask, Reno spoke up. “My lord, I fall asleep whenever I try to practice.”

The Lithe Ape militiaman, Shak, added, “I fall asleep too… It’s the same for the others.”

Victor was greatly disappointed. The Golden Toad Mystic Form was inherently difficult to practice. The first level, Life Concealment, required the body to be asleep while the consciousness remained awake, which wasn’t much different from a half-dreaming state. Internal Vision was a level higher than Life Concealment. Even with Victor’s modifications, the mystic form could not bypass the three progressive mental states of Life Concealment, Internal Vision, and Silent Void.

Then again, the Alchemical militia were not natural life forms. They lacked spiritual essence, and their potential was already exhausted. They probably wouldn’t achieve anything even if they practiced for ten years… Victor pondered for a moment, then dismissed Busuo and Jack and stood up to leave the castle.

Outside, brilliant sunlight slanted down from the sky. Victor squinted and signaled for Reno to prepare the Swiftbirds.

A short while later, Victor and several Alchemical militiamen from his personal guard mounted the Swiftbirds and rode out of the mountains. Reno rode beside Victor and asked, “My lord, are we returning to Laketon?”

“Good, you know to ask questions now.” Victor smiled faintly, pointed north of the Larkspur Mountains, and said, “We’re not going back to Laketon. We’re going to Quicksilver Manor, behind the Purple Cane forest.”

“Send word with an alchemical crow. Tell Narsen to come see me. Alone!”

“My practice of the new Golden Toad Mystic Form had no effect, and you all can’t practice it… I refuse to believe that a Ferocious warrior who has ignited the fire of the mind can’t practice it either!”

Chapter 472: The Spark of Quicksilver Manor

Quicksilver Manor was a training camp for the family’s death commandos, secretly established by Victor in the depths of the mountain forests northwest of the Purple Cane forest.

It was isolated from the rest of the world and rarely visited. All of the training camp’s supplies were provided by the mountain stronghold. The upper echelons of the Randall family had heard of Quicksilver Manor, but very few knew its exact location.

This was also Narsen’s first time going to Quicksilver Manor. The night before, he had received a message from Ash Falcon and traveled alone to a contact point below the secret fortress on the hill. After the Alchemical militia guarding the secret fortress on the hill confirmed the letter in Narsen’s hand, they led him on an overnight journey to Quicksilver Manor.

At dawn, riding Swiftbirds, they arrived at a densely vegetated mountain hollow. The Alchemical militiaman dismounted and started a bonfire on his own. Narsen looked around and asked curiously, “Why have we stopped?”

The Alchemical militiaman took some yellow powder from his tactical backpack and sprinkled it over the bonfire. A peculiar smell drifted on the morning breeze.

“My lord Narsen, I don’t know where Quicksilver Manor is,” the Alchemical militiaman said with a wooden expression. “Someone will be here to pick you up shortly.”

Narsen asked no more questions. He pulled out a large piece of beef jerky, tore it into strips, and fed his darling mount first before sitting on the ground and eating heartily himself. Before long, a rustling sound came from the bushes. The Swiftbird mount raised its head and let out a warning coo.

“Warhounds trained by the Master?”

Narsen quickly got to his feet and shouted at the Alchemical militiaman, “Herbert, they recognize you, right? I’d rather not harm the Warhounds our family has raised!”

As soon as he spoke, three large, brown-furred dogs shot out of the bushes. They barked furiously at the two Swiftbirds but didn’t dare to get close, merely circling them relentlessly.

“So they’re sentinel hounds. Don’t get excited, old pal. Even if it calls over the guard hounds, they’re no match for you. Down, down, they’re not your prey. That’s right, just like that. What a good boy,” Narsen said, smiling as he soothed the agitated Swiftbird.

Imosen had bred two types of war dogs for Victor: the Randall Sentinel Hound and the Randall Guard Hound.

The sentinel hounds had an average weight of ninety pounds and possessed the characteristics of Prairie Tiku hounds. They had keen Perception, high mobility, a suspicious nature, and relatively high intelligence, allowing them to carry out their master’s commands well. Their only weaknesses were their low attack power, their cowardice, and their tendency to bluff by barking loudly.

The guard hounds were enormous, weighing a full two hundred pounds. They had a firm and steady temperament, a strong Physique, and were brave and tenacious. Once they launched an attack on a target, it was a fight to the death. But the guard hounds were stupid. They didn’t bark, lacked initiative, and couldn’t distinguish between friend and foe. Without their master’s command, they wouldn’t even attack anyone.

Both types of war dogs had significant flaws, but when put together, they complemented each other perfectly. A standard twenty-five-man patrol team in the House of Randall was equipped with three sentinel hounds and one guard hound.

Where there were sentinel hounds, there were bound to be guard hounds, and where there were guard hounds, there was bound to be a Houndmaster.

Sure enough, a tall, sturdy man leading a glossy black guard hound came running out of the woods.

“Legion Commander, I’ve been ordered to receive you.” The big man pounded his chest with his fist in a military salute.

Narsen returned the salute and strode forward with a booming laugh, clapping the man familiarly on the shoulder. “Bull, it’s you, kid… Iron Hammer was just asking me where my lord had transferred you. So this is where you are, at Quicksilver Manor.”

Bull, the fourth Crouching Ox Militiaman Victor had created, had worked as an unlicensed merchant with the War Bear Mercenary Iron Hammer for two years and was more mentally agile than an ordinary Alchemical human. He gave a simple, honest smile and said, “Lord Randall is still waiting for you.”

“Then let’s go quickly.”

Narsen waved a greeting to the Alchemical militiaman who had led him there, took the reins of his Swiftbird, and followed Bull into the mountain forest.

As the sun rose, they arrived in a valley. Narsen looked at the tall fences and arrow towers and nodded. “This place is quite hidden.”

Bull blew a whistle, and the guards inside the camp lowered the drawbridge. The two entered Quicksilver Manor, one after the other.

Within the manor stood rows of wooden houses. On an open field, dozens of burly men were single-mindedly drilling the Gryphon Combat Technique. Their eyes were vacant, and their movements were so synchronized they looked like a single person.

These are all Mystic Warriors under my lord’s command… Could it be that Quicksilver Manor is a place specifically for training Mystic Warriors?

Narsen’s pupils constricted, and a sudden weight settled in his heart.

He followed behind Bull to the only green brick villa in the manor and stopped. “My lord should be doing his morning drills at this hour, right? We can wait for him at the door.”

“I no longer need morning drills.”

Victor pushed open the villa door and gestured for Bull to withdraw. He ambled down the steps and asked Narsen with a smile, “What do you think of this place?”

“It’s pretty good…” Narsen looked at the simple buildings around them and added honestly, “Better than Hill Camp. Er… Hill Camp in the beginning.”

Victor couldn’t help but grin. In its early days, Hill Camp didn’t even have proper wooden houses; it was a complete wilderness.

Narsen’s comparison brought back memories of the hardships and joys of his early endeavors. Half reminiscing, half showing off, he said, “Come! I’ll show you around.”

“This manor could also be called Barol Manor. This is the training camp he built for me to cultivate Quicksilver’s spies… In the future, Barol and his spy companions will retire here.”

Victor pointed at several large wooden houses not far away and said, “Living there are sixty-seven young spies, all children between the ages of four and eight. Thirty-seven of them have undergone body reconstruction by the Church. Those houses to the west are the residences of the Ferocious warriors. The Smuggling Caravan and the individuals with strong minds recruited by Quicksilver all live there. They will cultivate the Raging Lion Combat Technique in this training camp and then serve me. In return, I provide them with secret arts, potions, and quotas for body reconstruction to help them gain formidable power.”

“Forty secret art death commandos and twenty Elite Guards are responsible for the training camp’s defense and miscellaneous duties… Oh, and there are also twenty Swiftbird war beasts and over a hundred war dogs.” Victor shook his head and chuckled. “Don’t be fooled by the simple houses in Quicksilver Manor. It’s already costing me over seven thousand Gold Sols a year… and the expenses will only grow in the future.”

“Of course, the House of Randall will also grow stronger!” Victor declared, brimming with confidence.

Not every family had the ability to raise spies and death commandos. A family like the House of Randall, which began training secret art death commandos less than six years after its founding, was truly one of a kind.

Narsen looked around, stroking his chin, and commented, “It seems… there are no women.”

Victor choked for a moment, then said, annoyed, “This is a training camp! Why would there be women? There are a few little girls… What on earth is going through your mind?!”

Narsen’s lips trembled. Steeling himself, he dropped to one knee and said in a low voice, “Master, I wish to offer you Counsel.”

Counsel was a vassal’s duty and right. Narsen exercising his duty of Counsel was as rare a sight as a wild boar climbing a tree.

Victor asked curiously, “What do you want to say?”

“My lord, to die on the battlefield is a soldier’s fate; to seek pleasure is a soldier’s enjoyment. When we were mercenaries, after every mission, we’d always find a tavern to have some fun… Bull and the others are loyal, brave, and powerful warriors. They’ve accomplished more than we have, yet while we can drink and make merry, they have no enjoyments at all… My lord, I just feel that stripping a warrior of his pleasure as a man is too cruel,” Narsen said in a muffled tone. He paused, then looked up and offered his Counsel with great sincerity:

“My lord, can we find another way to train the family’s Mystic Warriors?”

Victor was dumbfounded. Narsen was a hardened, ruthless warrior, but not a cold-blooded, heartless tyrant. In his eyes, it was natural for soldiers to kill and be killed, but to be castrated by one’s own people was what he considered cruel. Of course, he felt this way mainly because he saw the Alchemical militia as his comrades-in-arms. He couldn’t care less if strangers lived or died.

It wasn’t just Narsen. Victor knew that Reno wasn’t human in the truest sense, yet he still felt some affection for him. However, Alchemical humans were manifestations of the Alchemy Tower’s Light of the Mind. Their deaths were merely a return to the Alchemy Tower, a descent into a dormant state. Pitying an alchemical creature was as ridiculous as pitying an immortal god.

“Narsen, some things we have no choice about.” Victor shook his head and lifted his chin. “Get up.”

A dejected look appeared on Narsen’s face as he awkwardly got to his feet, but then he heard Victor say, “Perhaps you can help me solve this problem.”

“Me?” Narsen pointed to his own nose, then said excitedly, “My lord, just give the order.”

“Follow me.” Victor nodded and led Narsen to the training camp’s martial arts arena.

“Did you think Quicksilver Manor is where I train Elite Guards? That I intend to train all those children into Elite Guards?” Victor asked.

“Oh, I thought so,” Narsen said, rubbing the back of his head and nodding.

“No.” Victor shook his head. “The Elite Guards are simple-minded. Their main purpose here is to receive training from Quicksilver, to learn the basics of social etiquette. Practicing martial arts is just their daily routine.”

Alchemical humans had a process for laundering their identities. They would first go to the mountain stronghold, then blend in with the refugee workers building the southern fortress, then join The Swamp Scouts. After a year and a half of learning and tempering, they could finally join the mercenary Legion, the Smuggling Caravan, or Quicksilver.

Recently, the sacrifices among the Alchemical humans had been quite high. To shorten their learning period, Victor had asked Barol to send people to teach the Alchemical humans basic social knowledge.

The head instructor Barol had arranged was a disabled spy named Bly, who was missing both hands. His assistants were captured gang leaders, including thieves, swindlers, assassins, and ruffians. These people would never leave Quicksilver Manor in their lifetime, so there was no possibility of secrets being leaked.

There was no need for Victor to explain these details to Narsen. He patted Narsen on the shoulder. “You are my most trusted subordinate. Even Barol doesn’t know the secret of the Warhounds. Only you do.”

“My lord, I swear to serve you to the death and protect your secrets,” Narsen said with a solemn expression.

Victor nodded, raised his hand, and a dark cyan wind blade shot out, striking an Iron-oak target twenty meters away. With a crack, the air let out another piercing shriek. The wooden target, wrapped in Vine-hide hard armor, swayed violently. The Vine-hide hard armor was torn apart by the turbulent airflow, revealing a deep gash on the Iron-oak target, as if it had been slashed by a sharp blade.

“How about that?” Victor asked smugly.

Narsen closed his gaping mouth, ran over to inspect the wooden target, and clucked his tongue in amazement. “Amazing!”

He walked back, shaking his head, and said seriously, “My lord, if I may be blunt. This level of damage is enough to threaten an ordinary Knight. But its practical application might not be as you wish… A Knight in Adamantine heavy armor won’t fear your wind blade, and one in light armor will be able to dodge as soon as you raise your hand. For experts at the Knight level, anything within twenty-five meters is considered close-quarters combat… Unless the wind blade’s range can exceed seventy meters, it would be better to prepare for close combat.”

Victor laughed heartily. “The wind blade was always a skill for bullying the weak and fearing the strong. I wanted you to see the speed of my progress. Six months ago, I hadn’t reached this level.”

“Next, I’m going to tell you a secret, a secret art that can enhance your strength…”

Victor’s smile vanished, his expression turning serious. “You must swear that you will never teach this secret art to anyone without my permission.”

Narsen was overjoyed. He quickly knelt and swore a solemn oath. “I swear upon my soul to the supreme Lord of Radiance that I will keep my master’s secrets and obey my master’s arrangements, or may my soul be cast into the Abyss.”

Victor nodded. “Let’s talk inside.”

Back in the villa’s living room, Victor sat on the sofa and gestured for Narsen to sit as well.

“Besides the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form and the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form, I have inherited another Mystic Form… one that specifically cultivates the power of the mind, the Golden Toad Mystic Form.” Victor leaned back on the sofa, pondered for a moment, and said, “The Golden Toad Mystic Form is completely different from the Church’s secret art of the mind. The Church’s secret art of the mind uses physical pain to stimulate the mind’s growth while strengthening pious faith, achieving a state where mind, body, and holy power are unified. For a non-cleric, this path does not lead far.”

“Then what should I do?” Narsen asked, looking crestfallen.

Victor raised an eyebrow and asked lightly, “Do you believe there are higher divinities above the Lord of Radiance?”

“Don’t be so quick to answer!” Victor raised a hand to stop Narsen’s rebuttal and nodded. “The Lord of Radiance is the protector of humanity, possessing the power to bring the dead back to life. Marcy smashed Aka’s head in, yet Father Miller was still able to save his life. Even if there are other true gods in this world, if they are of no benefit to us, what use are they? The Lord of Radiance is indeed the supreme god of humanity. However, faith and conviction are two entirely different things. If you can’t break free from the limitations of faith, you can never become a truly powerful expert.”

“You are not a member of the clergy… You are my Vassal,” Victor stated a simple fact with a calm expression.

Narsen hesitated for a moment, then his expression became resolute. “Master, I’ll listen to you!”

“Very good.” Victor smiled in satisfaction and began to speak. “High-ranked Knights firmly believe that the Elemental Sea is the origin of all things, and that even gods are creations of the Elemental Sea. We cannot perceive the Elemental Sea, nor can we perceive the holy power bestowed by the Lord of Radiance, but a god resides within our bodies all the same.”

Victor pointed at Narsen’s heart and said, word by word:

“That god is your mind!”

“My… my mind is a god?” Narsen touched his chest, stammering.

“Correct!” Victor lowered his hand and explained further. “Every world has a supreme ruler. I see the human body as a world, and the mind is the ruler of that world-body. When the god of the mind is powerful, it—or you—can reconstruct the world of the body to the greatest extent, and even communicate with the external world, reaching the state… of the Touch of the Mind!”

Victor wasn’t sure what the Light of the Mind of an ordinary human was like, so he simply didn’t mention it.

Narsen was overcome with joy, scratching his head and ears as he asked, “What should I do?”

Victor smiled faintly and said, “The Golden Toad Mystic Form is a secret art that specializes in cultivating the mind. Through Stance practice and visualization, one experiences the physical and mental states of Life Concealment, Internal vision, and the Silent Void of life and death, with the goal of awakening the slumbering mind and reshaping one’s own world.”

Narsen stared blankly at Victor and shook his head. “My lord, I don’t understand.”

“…” Victor thought for a moment and said, “When the world faces destruction, the gods can no longer sit still… That’s probably the gist of the Trial of Life and Death. Also, human life is finite. The mind achieves immortality through human procreation. I once heard a story about an ordinary mother who saw her child get run over by a carriage. In her desperation, she single-handedly overturned the fully loaded carriage. Afterward, her strength returned to normal. This indicates that her mind had once again fallen into slumber.”

Narsen’s face immediately scrunched up. He stammered, “Is… not liking women the reason why Reno and the others are so strong?”

Victor laughed. “Rest assured, the method used by the Golden Toad Mystic Form is to simulate the destruction of the body’s world. It has nothing to do with fertility.”

“That’s good, that’s good,” Narsen said with relief.

“You understood that part, at least,” Victor said, shooting Narsen a sideways glance. “Do you want to learn it or not?”

“I’ll learn!”

In the days that followed, Victor personally taught Narsen Stance practice, breathing, and visualization, asking about his progress and feelings.

There was no flash of lightning or clap of thunder, no strange phenomenon descending from the heavens. Neither Victor nor Narsen clearly realized that they were heralding a new epoch. From this day forward, human Mind Warriors would step onto the stage of history, standing on equal footing with Knights and the clergy, becoming a core force that would dictate the fate of humanity.

In the years to come, Victor would acquire many titles: the Gold-Eyed Earl, the Raging Wind Sword Saint, the Pale Knight, the Blood Demon King, the Blood Emperor, the Conqueror, the Savior, the Betrayer. But to the Mind Warriors of humanity, he would always be revered as the Light of the Epoch.

This day would be forever remembered by history.

Chapter 473: The Hypothesis of Simulating Talents

”

Narsen was, after all, a Ferocious warrior who had ignited the fire of his mind. Although a power of the mind had not yet reached the point where he could freely mobilize his inner potential, he could coordinate the movement of his muscle groups with near perfection. Under Victor’s guidance, he quickly mastered the Stance practice and breathing techniques for the three new Golden Toad Mystic Forms.

”

For the next twenty-some days, Narsen single-mindedly practiced the Mystic Form, finally integrating the visualization, Stance practice, and breathing techniques. He was able to perform the three new Golden Toad Mystic Forms flawlessly in their entirety.

”

Victor expressed his admiration for Narsen’s diligence and talent, but when it came to the substantive Life Concealment stage, he fell asleep…

”

More than a month passed, and Narsen was still unable to enter a state where his body slept while his consciousness remained awake. His cultivation progress was stuck at the Life Concealment stage.

”

On this day, Narsen opened his eyes, took a deep breath, and stretched. A series of cracking sounds rippled through his entire skeleton. He slowly exhaled the stale air from his chest, and with a light push of his elbow, his whole body seemed to be pulled by an invisible force, rising straight up from the wooden floor.

”

Anyone who didn’t know better would have thought a thousand-year-old zombie had just reanimated… Victor, sitting on the sofa and looking at the refreshed and energetic Narsen, couldn’t help but complain in his head.

”

“My lord, I fell asleep again,” Narsen said, rubbing the back of his head with a grin, a look of shameless nonchalance on his face.

”

Victor squeezed out a smile and consoled him, “It’s alright, the Golden Toad Mystic Form is notoriously difficult to practice… Er, you’ve still made progress.”

”

“Really?” Narsen asked in pleasant surprise.

”

“Er… you changed your visualization subject today and fell asleep much faster than before. You basically conked out the moment your head hit the pillow… And you slept for an hour less than usual.” Victor’s mouth twitched as he struggled to maintain a graceful smile, afraid of discouraging Narsen’s enthusiasm.

”

“Yeah, I definitely sleep more soundly when I visualize a toad than when I visualize myself.”

”

Narsen nodded with a profound expression, then said dejectedly, “But what’s the use of that?”

”

Victor quickly tried to salvage the situation. “What do you mean ‘what’s the use’? It’s incredibly useful…” He rose and walked to the solid wood dining table, poured a glass of milk, and handed it to Narsen himself. Placing a hand on his shoulder, he said enthusiastically, “Look, you used to need a full six hours of sleep a day. Now, by practicing the Golden Toad Mystic Form, you only need three hours of sleep to stay energetic all day. That means you gain an extra three hours every day, thirty extra hours every ten days, and in a year of five hundred and twelve days, that’s an extra one thousand five hundred thirty-six hours… That’s equivalent to living sixty-four extra days a year compared to a normal person! As long as you keep practicing the Golden Toad Mystic Form, you’ll live one extra year for every eight years you live. Isn’t that useful?”

”

“That makes so much sense…” Narsen drained the milk, set the glass down, and asked in a seeking tone, “So what can I do with the extra three hours I have every night?”

”

Victor rubbed his nose and answered, “You have four beautiful wives.”

”

“It really is useful! So incredibly useful!” Narsen slapped his thigh in delight. After a moment of foolish glee, he knitted his thick brows and muttered, “But… it takes me three hours to practice the Golden Toad Mystic Form, from the stance, to the visualization, to the Life Concealment…”

”

The atmosphere in the living room instantly grew cold. The two men stared at each other, wide-eyed, before bursting into laughter, sweeping away two months of accumulated frustration and gloom.

”

“My lord, is it because I’m not talented enough? Should we call that Big guy over?”

”

Caligula’s mind was pure, and his talent for martial arts was unmatched. Even Narsen felt inferior.

”

But Victor shook his head. “Aka is too simple-minded; he’d have a hard time keeping a secret. The Golden Toad Mystic Form is a matter of great importance. We can’t let anyone know about it until we’ve made some progress!”

”

A shiver went down Narsen’s spine. He asked tentatively, “My lord, when I practice the Golden Toad Mystic Form, I treat myself as a god. Does that count as blasphemy against the Supreme Lord?”

”

Blasphemy? If this counted as blasphemy against the Lord of Radiance, then Father Miller would be the greatest blasphemer of all. He and Sylvia were my inspiration.

”

Victor’s personal strength had just barely touched the Gold rank, so he couldn’t be considered a top-tier expert. But he had constructed a worldview with the Supreme Creator at its center and, from that, pioneered the theory of the mind’s sovereignty. In terms of vision and insight, Victor was absolutely among the top of his generation, perhaps even beyond what Sylvia and Miller could compare to.

”

Sylvia said: humanity’s three natures in one. Miller said: My Lord is not the Lord, the Lord is not my Lord. Their views represented the paths of High-ranked Knights and high-ranking priests, respectively.

”

If the souls of High-ranked Knights would be assimilated by the Elemental Sea, wouldn’t the souls of high-ranking priests be assimilated by the Pool of Holy Power?

”

The answer was obvious.

”

The human mind and body are like an iceberg, with most of their potential hidden beneath the surface. The Church’s fire of the mind refers to controlling the tip of the iceberg above the water. The clergy, through the union of mind, body, and holy power, slowly pull the iceberg out of the water, turning it into their own strength. This requires devout faith. But the holy power bestowed by the Lord of Radiance is ultimately an external force, one that inevitably taints the soul of the clergy. If a priest’s mind isn’t strong enough, it will be overwhelmed by the immense holy power, and their body and soul will immediately collapse.

”

This was why clergy who overused divine arts aged particularly quickly. Although the Pool of Holy Power contained access to level-seven divine arts, since time immemorial, apart from the papal line and the naturally God-favored, almost no high-ranking priest or Sacred Warrior had ever reached level seven.

”

It wasn’t that they couldn’t, but that they didn’t dare!

”

Even so, the extraordinary power of the papal line was in constant decline. Compared to the first Pope Inoc, they had now become little more than manifestations of the Radiant Code. As long as the Pope’s Bloodline continued, the high-ranking clergy wouldn’t have to worry about the Church losing the divine favor of the Lord of Radiance.

”

The God-favored Miller presented his Proverb to Pope Clement: The master of “me” is not the Supreme Lord; the Supreme Lord cannot master “my” Path.

”

Of course, his original intent might have been: If even the Supreme Lord can’t dictate my path, what right does the Church have to boss me around? Don’t get in my way!

”

Miller’s Proverb also pointed to the heart of the matter: without a powerful mind, one has no right to wield holy power of level six or higher.

”

From this, it was clear that Miller had already surpassed the level-six limit and was at least at the level of a Spirit Priest. He was practically using the Lord of Radiance as a tool! And the prerequisite for this was correct and pious faith.

”

Miller was not a fanatic, not a nominal believer, and not a false believer. He was a True Believer!

”

For an ordinary member of the clergy, Miller’s path as a priest was like a poison that promised transcending the mundane and entering sainthood; the slightest misstep would result in the collapse of one’s faith.

”

However, the facts were right there. Who would dare say that Miller did not have a pious faith in the Lord of Radiance?

”

The secret art of the mind that Victor had deduced had no external force to borrow from. It used a method of “deception” to stimulate the subconscious power of the dominant instinct, first pulling a section of the underwater iceberg out, then familiarizing oneself with and mastering the part of the iceberg above the water. This process would be repeated, achieving a state where the mind masters itself and breaks through its own limits.

”

It was precisely because Victor’s secret art of the mind could not rely on external forces like the Elemental Sea or the Pool of Holy Power that its cultivation process had to start from imperfection and imbalance to eventually reach a state of perfect balance.

”

No matter how difficult this path was, one thing was certain: with Miller’s example, Victor’s secret art of the mind was in no way an absolute conflict with religious faith! If Tournans learned of the secret art of the mind, he would undoubtedly come running, demanding to participate in its research.

”

In fact, not only was the secret art of the mind compatible with the clergy, but it was also of great help to Extraordinary Knights. This was because neither Knights nor clergy had escaped the instinct of their human bloodline. A human’s Bloodline was closely related to their soul; a Knight with a strong soul could naturally resist the corrosion of the Elemental Sea and obtain more extraordinary power. This was perhaps the difference between a high-bloodline Knight and a low-bloodline one.

”

At the very least, the secret art of the mind could help Knights simulate the effects of a Trial of Life and Death! Perhaps they could go even further and, like the Alchemists of old, mobilize the power of the Elemental Sea in a rational and effective manner.

”

Victor had a faint feeling that a High-ranked Knight could achieve this possibility as long as he cultivated to the realm of the Light of the Mind.

”

For some reason, Victor was currently unwilling to share his secret art of the mind with Sylvia.

”

Even though the secret art of the mind could extend her life, win her favor, or even help me perfect it… An image of Sylvia’s beautiful face, a mix of feigned anger and resentment, appeared in Victor’s mind. He remembered the sweet and tender moments between them, and a sense of guilt welled up inside him.

”

Perhaps I’m just petty; perhaps I want to use this to completely conquer Sylvia; perhaps I’m ambitious… Fine, who says a grandmaster can’t be petty? Can’t have ambitions? Those stories and what-not are all nonsense, get as far away from me as possible! Sylvia, my darling, wait until your man achieves divine mastery, then I’ll come rescue you… Gahaha!

”

Victor shook his head, pushing aside his troubled thoughts. He pondered for a moment and asked, “Narsen, do you still believe in the Supreme Lord?”

”

“Er… I believe in the Supreme Lord,” Narsen said, thinking for a moment before nodding emphatically.

”

“Then isn’t that settled? Is that old fellow Miller going to forbid you from worshiping?”

”

Victor chuckled and shook his head, then changed the subject. “You’ve achieved mind and body as one now, so it is indeed a bit difficult for you to enter a state where your body is asleep but your consciousness is awake… This is the problem we must face. What are your thoughts?”

”

Hearing Victor’s words, Narsen visibly relaxed. “My lord, why don’t we find a young one to try it out?”

”

“You mean those little spies?” Victor sighed and shook his head. “It would take an ordinary adult at least three years of practice to master the Stance practice, breathing techniques, and visualization of the Golden Toad Mystic Form, let alone a restless child.”

”

Narsen was silent for a few seconds before speaking. “My lord, I think the problem is with the visualization.”

”

“Hmm? Explain in detail.” A glint flashed in Victor’s eyes. He looked at Narsen hopefully. The intuition of a Ferocious warrior was worth looking forward to.

”

“My lord, you had me visualize a toad today, and I fell asleep immediately. I never fell asleep that fast before.” Narsen gave a sheepish smile, then said with confusion, “Before, the object of my visualization was myself. But I don’t understand, what can I do myself?”

”

“Visualizing yourself is to believe in yourself…” Victor began to explain patiently, but halfway through his sentence, a flash of inspiration struck him, and he was instantly lost in thought.

”

Victor’s Silver Moon Mystic Form used himself as the object of visualization, drawing inspiration from the innate talent of the High Moon Elves. But what talent do ordinary humans have?

”

The Moon Elves belonged to an extraordinary, long-lived species, with traits fixed by the Law of their Bloodline. Their talent path was clear… By designing the Silver Moon Mystic Form with myself as the visualization object, I was actually using self-suggestion to first accept the Moon Elf Bloodline, and then, when water flows, a channel is formed; I could advance along the Moon Elf’s talent path.

”

Victor had a sudden realization and immediately mused, “Ordinary humans are a short-lived species. The Law of their Bloodline is compact, and their talent is unknown. What effect could there be from using oneself as the object of visualization? It’s like being surrounded by darkness with no path to follow! One must set up their own lighthouse and grope their way forward… So, what talent should be assumed first?”

”

Narsen fell asleep visualizing a toad, Tournans could simulate the talents of beastmen… Right, I speculated that humanity’s Ancestral Gods were incomplete incarnations of the Creator. Their Light of the Mind could reflect various Principles for transforming the world, which is why the Wizardry of Wizards is so strange and varied, each with a different focus… Simulation! The hypothetical lighthouse for an ordinary human’s talent should be simulation… It seems it’s no accident that the Golden Toad Mystic Form uses a Golden Toad as its visualization object… Victor’s brow furrowed and relaxed, his expression shifting between sunny and overcast.

”

“My lord, are you alright?” Narsen waved a hand in front of Victor’s eyes and asked cautiously.

”

“Oh, I’m fine! I’m great…” Victor collected himself, stood up, and began pacing back and forth in the room. “I’ve never been better!” He stopped and laughed heartily. “Narsen, what monster or beast do you admire the most?”

”

“I like bears the most!”

”

Narsen grinned. “When I was little, the War Bear Mercenary Company ran into a huge pack of Gnolls in the wilderness. We fought as we retreated and accidentally entered the territory of a Savage Bear… That big guy stood over four meters tall. With one swipe of its paw, a Gnoll was turned into meat paste. The Savage Bear was unstoppable, slaughtering Gnolls everywhere, and we took the opportunity to escape. Ever since then, I’ve liked bears.”

”

Victor muttered to himself, “What are a bear’s skills?”

”

“Limitless strength, thick skin and hide, keen perception, brave yet cunning, can eat a lot but also endure hunger, and it even hibernates!” Narsen answered without hesitation.

”

Victor looked Narsen up and down a few times and nodded. “No wonder… Ahem, I mean, let’s change the visualization object. You will visualize a bear.”

”

“Alright!” Narsen swiped a hand along his jaw and chin, and half-inch-long whiskers fell away. He asked excitedly, “Do we start now?”

”

“Not so fast.” Victor shook his head and said thoughtfully, “The visualization object has changed, so the Stance practice and breathing techniques must be adjusted to match the characteristics of a bear… The toad-sleeping thing definitely won’t work anymore.”

”

Narsen said in a deep, booming voice, “My lord, if you ask me, we should just use the Gryphon Combat Technique with the visualization method. We can modify it as we practice.”

”

Victor struck his fist into his palm and nodded. “Let’s do that. In any case, with that old fellow Miller around, we don’t have to be afraid even if you run into problems with your practice!”

”

“…” Narsen.

”

For the next several dozen days, Victor and Narsen were completely immersed in the joy of cultivating the Mystic Form. With a clear division of labor, they discussed things with each other. Narsen put it into practice, using his own body as a test subject. Victor observed, recorded, and made deductions and modifications. He even ordered the Alchemical militia to venture deep into the northern end of the Larkspur Mountains to capture a few bears as reference subjects. Unfortunately, they couldn’t catch a Savage Bear… but this did nothing to dampen their enthusiasm, because Tournans’s Gryphon Combat Technique had already been altered beyond recognition. Not only had the bear visualization been added, but it had also achieved preliminary success.

”

Time flew by, and in the blink of an eye, the first month of the Season of Fire had arrived.

”

“Awooo.”

”

In the martial arts arena, Narsen’s chest swelled as he let out a low, bear-like roar. His entire body instantly expanded by a size, and the resulting gust of air cracked the compacted ground beneath his feet like a spider’s web. A tangible sense of power rushed forward.

”

He let out a long breath, and his brawny body returned to its original size. He shouted to Victor in pleasant surprise, “My lord, I succeeded! I just clearly felt my consciousness leave my body, watching myself from above, controlling myself… Is this the Life Concealment of the Golden Toad Mystic Form?”

”

“Hehe, the fire of the mind is still there.” Narsen grinned foolishly, flexing his thick arms. “My strength is greater than before, and my Physique is stronger too.”

”

Victor nodded with a blank expression. “You can’t call it Life Concealment, and you can’t call it Golden Toad Mystic Form… Of course, the principle is the same.”

”

“Then what should it be called?” Narsen asked.

”

“You created this Mystic Form, you name it yourself,” Victor said, his face dark.

”

“Then let’s call it the War Bear Mystic Form!”

”

Narsen nodded happily, then said to Victor in a comforting tone, “My lord, the War Bear Mystic Form might not be suitable for you, you don’t have to mind… Just tell me what kind of beast you like, and we’ll create a Mystic Form that’s suitable for you next.”

”

Victor’s face grew even darker. X-3 had lost its Elemental Vision function, but he could still sense that Narsen’s Physique attribute had clearly improved. The effects of the War Bear Mystic Form were undeniable.

”

Narsen’s War Bear Mystic Form was purely a training method and was a great help in strengthening one’s Physique. Its cultivation efficiency was much faster than the Golden Toad Mystic Form, giving it value for popularization, but how much potential the War Bear Mystic Form had still needed to be considered… But why was it that when I practiced the War Bear Mystic Form, it had no effect? In any case, the hypothesis of simulating talents has been preliminarily verified. The road ahead will be much easier to walk… Victor collected himself and snorted coldly, “Don’t get happy too soon. You still have to attempt Internal vision with the Hibernation Stance.”

”

Just as he was speaking, Reno walked over holding a sheepskin letter. “My lord, a message from My Lady Lilia. Miss Gillian is waiting for you at Silver Moon Manor. Also, the Fishman War has begun. My Lady Lilia requests that Legion Commander Narsen return immediately to oversee military affairs.”

”

“The Fishman War has started?” Narsen jumped in surprise and quickly asked, “My lord, how many days have we been at Quicksilver Manor?”

”

“Four months and eleven days, a total of one hundred and thirty-nine days…” Victor said, a headache coming on. He had been so engrossed in cultivating the Mystic Form that he hadn’t seen Nicole and the others for over four months, hadn’t seen Sylvia and Trisley for over five months, hadn’t seen Judy for seven months, and hadn’t seen Gillian in over a year!

”

All the emotional debts he owed would have to be repaid.

”

Chapter 474: Commissioning the Minting of Coins

The two twin oak trees in the front courtyard of the lord’s residence were lush with leaves, their canopy-like crowns shielding the manor from the watery moonlight.

Victor stood in the black shadow of the oaks, his slightly pointed ears twitching. He heard the bathroom door in the lord’s residence open, the sound of high-heeled boots following a handmaiden’s footsteps toward the master bedroom. The handmaiden’s sweet voice excused herself, and the owner of the boots entered the master bedroom alone, followed by the sound of the door closing.

Hearing this, Victor revealed an elegant smile. He straightened his clothes slightly and walked with a light-hearted gait toward the main door of the lord’s residence.

Young Lady Gillian Chapman’s temper was as fiery as her figure, but beneath her wild and arrogant exterior was a soft and delicate heart. It was just like her magnificent body, encased in Mithril armor, which held an equal and endless fascination for Victor.

She was the ultimate woman among female knights—beautiful, sexy, proud, powerful, stingy, money-grubbing, gentle, and utterly devoted to her handsome lover. She loved sparkling jewelry and glittering Gold Sols.

All women needed to be coaxed, and Young Lady Gillian, having been neglected by Victor for a year, was especially in need of his appeasement.

In Victor’s view, making Gillian happy was an easy task. She was the only one of his lovers who would openly ask for courtship gifts at the dinner table, and she did so righteously and shamelessly.

After all, Victor hadn’t paid her any mind for a year, and she had to come to him herself.

At times like this, simply presenting her with some expensive jewelry was guaranteed to make her overjoyed. He wouldn’t even need to put it on for her, and he could spare the sweet, playful words.

Gillian was just that easy to please. She had once publicly declared, “The right to present me with courtship gifts, I grant only to my dearest Viscount Randell.”

Unfortunately, Gillian had chosen poorly; her lover was even more miserly than she was.

He couldn’t help it. Jewelry crafted by Blinor City’s Master Benjamin cost at least three thousand Gold Sols. If Victor prepared a set of jewelry for Gillian, Sylvia would demand a courtship gift five times as valuable, and then there were Nicole, Trisley, Judy, Lilia, and the Elina sisters… Victor truly couldn’t afford to give many courtship gifts.

Victor entered the lord’s residence alone and came face to face with a pair of stunning red-haired, green-eyed beauties. The beautiful sisters wore matching dresses and high heels, and they curtsied to Victor in unison.

“My lord, welcome home.”

Their voices were like the chirping of orioles, their smiles sweet, revealing neat rows of pearly white teeth. Victor gazed at their two nearly identical, charming faces and was suddenly reminded that he had been separated from Elina for a full twelve months.

Victor stepped forward and wrapped his arm around Elina, the one with the dimple on her left cheek. He reached out to gently caress her delicate, smooth face and praised with a smile, “Elina, Darling, you’ve become even more beautiful… and Alice is just as lovely as you.”

Elina’s eyes began to redden. She raised a slender, pale hand and pressed it against the back of Victor’s, rubbing it against her own cheek. Alice huffed, then petulantly grabbed Victor’s other hand and pressed it against her own face as well.

Elina did not forget her duties as a Personal handmaiden. After a moment of tenderness with her husband, she released his hand and said softly, “My lord, Young Lady Chapman is visiting Silver Moon Manor. She is resting in your bedroom.”

“I was just about to see her,” Victor said with a slight nod, a hint of apology in his voice. He had neglected Young Lady Chapman for a year, and now she had come to see him of her own accord, most likely to discuss the Minting Rights. It was only right, both emotionally and logically, that he appease her first.

Alice’s personality was not as docile and gentle as Elina’s. She pouted her red lips aggrievedly, her green eyes darting about as she said in a sweet voice, “My lord, let us attend to your bath.”

This, too, was the duty of a Personal handmaiden.

“Thank you for your trouble,” Victor said with a smile and a nod.

Elina smiled faintly, her lips pursed, and called for the household maids to prepare hot water. Alice, meanwhile, clung to Victor’s arm and led him towards the bathroom.

Attended by the beautiful sisters, Victor had a quick and simple wash. He changed into a fine linen shirt and trousers, took a crystal candelabrum, and walked alone down the fourth-floor corridor to the door of the master bedroom.

He knocked politely on the wooden door, but without waiting for Gillian to respond, Victor pushed the door open. The moment he stepped into the lord’s bedroom and looked up, he froze at the entrance.

Gillian was leaning back against a leather sofa, clad in a short, gleaming black Water-Lizard leather sheath dress. The dress clung tightly to her body, outlining her perfect curves. Her shoulder-length hair had replaced her former bob cut, softening her somewhat stern aura into something more alluring and enchanting. A cold smile played on her full red lips as her amber phoenix eyes slanted towards the dumbfounded Victor.

Long hair… a form-fitting dress… The sweet nothings Victor had been composing for half the day disappeared without a trace. The words that tumbled from his lips were:

“Why are you wearing this dress?”

Young Lady Chapman revealed her snow-white canine teeth and gently wagged her long index finger, her voice husky and laced with temptation.

“I know why your women like to wear dresses, because… you can’t tear a Spider silk long dress!”

Victor’s slender eyebrows shot up. Spider silk was incredibly tough; even an initial-rank apprentice knight might not be able to tear a Spider silk long dress, let alone Victor. Water-Lizard leather was breathable and waterproof but not nearly as resilient. Still, for Victor to rip it, he would have to use all his strength. Most importantly, Water-Lizard leather wasn’t as expensive as spider silk.

Can’t tear it? Fine! This is so very Gillian. Although she grew her hair out for me, her words are as sharp and provocative as ever, betraying a weakness beneath that tough exterior… hmph, I’ll show you what true power is!

The flames stirred by the Elina sisters had not yet died down, and now Gillian was adding fuel to the fire. Without another word, Victor strode forward…

The next morning.

Victor opened his eyes and asked with a smile, “Darling, want to get up for breakfast?”

“Are you going for your morning training?” Gillian rolled on top of Victor, her long index finger tracing circles on his chest, showing no intention of letting him get up.

“No… I’m afraid I’ll be bad to you again.”

“You’ve already been bad to me…”

Gillian enjoyed her lover’s caresses, her eyes smoldering as she asked, “Last night, I felt a disturbance of the water element… have you mastered the Surge talent?”

“Yes,” Victor nodded, adding, “You’re the first person to know.”

Gillian didn’t speak, only holding Victor tighter.

Victor extracted his hand from Gillian’s soft embrace and lifted a lock of her beautiful hair. “Your hair… is very lovely. I like it a lot.”

“Mm,” Gillian hummed lazily, closing her eyes as if to hide her delight from Victor. After a moment, she said lightly, “The Fishman War is about to begin. The Chepman family hopes you will give it your all.”

The purpose of the Fishman War, launched by the Kingdom of Gambia, was to construct ports. Completely annihilating the riverbank Fishmen was an impossible goal. The lords only needed to lure the Fishmen clans to designated riverbank battlefields to keep them from harassing the craftsmen building the ports. The Centaur Hills was responsible for seven of these battlefields, with the Randall family’s mercenary Legion as the main fighting force. But these riverbank Fishmen had grown clever; the moment they saw the Randall family’s infantry phalanx, they would hide in the river and refuse to surface. If Victor wanted to draw them out to fight, he would have to abandon the tightly formed infantry phalanx and adopt traditional Wolf Pack Tactics. This meant the Legion would face fierce combat, and casualties among the mercenaries would be unavoidable—in fact, they would be necessary, otherwise the Fishmen wouldn’t come ashore at all.

As long as the Fishmen hid in the Goldwater River, the Chapman territory couldn’t build its wharves, and neither could the ports in the Centaur Hills be built.

Victor’s eyes were deep as he said in a level voice, “The Randall family’s mercenary soldiers cost me so many Gold Sols each year, they’re all turning into esteemed masters… If they don’t dare to bleed and fight to the death, what use are they to me?”

“Esteemed masters? What upper-class man doesn’t dare to fight? How can soldiers who fear bloodshed and sacrifice become vassals and masters?” Gillian lifted her head and asked, perplexed.

Victor gave a dry laugh. “A slip of the tongue… In any case, I will control casualties, but I won’t shy away from sacrifice!”

Gillian nodded, then changed the subject. “How long has it been since you went to Wildwillow City?”

A thought stirred in Victor’s mind, and he countered, “What’s happened in Wildwillow City?”

“Nothing much… I heard the Briatte family is preparing to replace their magistrate. Primo Briatte’s maternal grandfather and his-paternal cousin are at each other’s throats over it… What? Didn’t Judy tell you?” Gillian bit her lip lightly, a cunning glint in her beautiful phoenix eyes.

Ever since Viscount Briart and Austin died, Judy’s father and brother could be said to have one hand covering the sky in Bryat’s fief. For young Primo, his mother’s family having so much power was not necessarily a good thing. As Primo’s mother, Judy had to make plans for her beloved son to take power in the future. The fact that Primo’s father’s clan was now stepping up to challenge his mother’s clan might very well be the result of Judy’s subtle guidance.

It’s just a magistrate. How could that shake my interests in Wildwillow City? Since Judy hasn’t asked me for help, why should I interfere in the Briatte family’s internal affairs… Victor chuckled inwardly, feigning nonchalance. “What do the Briatte family’s internal disputes have to do with me?”

Gillian’s cunning smile instantly froze on her face. She had originally planned to use helping Victor stabilize the situation in Wildwillow City as a condition to get him to accept the Chepman family’s minting commission. She hadn’t expected Victor to be completely unconcerned about the turmoil in Wildwillow City, making the rest of her conversation untenable.

Could it be that he already knows the Joshua and Nim families are secretly meddling in Wildwillow City’s affairs? Her Highness Sylvia must have given Victor a heads-up… Gillian, feeling sullen, leaped out of bed with a cold expression, the magnificent waves of her body making Victor’s head swim.

“You tore my dress. You have to compensate me with a better one!” Gillian said in a hard tone, one hand on her hip.

Looking at Gillian’s long hair, the fiery look in Victor’s eyes softened. she was the first high-ranking female knight to change herself for him, and perhaps the only one.

The Young Lady of the Chapman family was not as shrewd and worldly as she appeared. In fact, she was stupidly cute. Especially in front of Victor, her intelligence plummeted, making her no different from any ordinary woman in the throes of passionate love.

Under normal circumstances, Gillian, as the heir to Earl Chepman, should have first polished her Aura, experienced love, marriage, and childbirth, and then advanced to the Silver-rank. When the Ant-man army invaded the Chapman territory and Earl Chepman was trapped in Blue Goose Keep, Earl Chepman and his wife did not ask Gillian to advance ahead of schedule.

What use would a Silver Knight who had only resonated with twenty-five Elemental Nodes be against the overwhelming Ant-man tide?

Yet Gillian had secretly advanced to Silver Knight anyway, just to save her father. In the end, she failed to save her father and nearly got herself killed.

Gillian and Sophia had completely opposite personalities. She was just a spoiled, willful, and frank girl who was nevertheless soft and delicate on the inside.

This was not surprising at all. Both of Gillian’s parents were Great Knights with an affinity for the water element; her mother had a strong personality, while her father was more gentle. The harmonious relationship between Earl Chepman and his wife and their warm family life had a great influence on Gillian. She was full of beautiful hopes for love, and Victor’s appearance filled the void left by her rash advancement to Silver Knight. Although she enjoyed sparring and scheming with Victor, she had never truly gained the upper hand.

Just like this time. She could have discussed the Minting Rights directly, but she insisted on bringing up the disputes in Wildwillow City first, trying to use it as a bargaining chip… Wasn’t she just afraid that her family would take advantage of her dear lover? If Earl Chepman knew his darling daughter was negotiating with Victor like this, he would probably die of anger.

“Of course I’ll compensate you with a better dress…”

Victor smiled faintly. Without moving, a condensed ball of dark green Aura materialized from thin air and shot out, striking the golden bell on the table.

Before long, Elina and Alice entered the bedroom carrying a set of ladies’ undergarments and leather armor. Seeing Gillian’s perfect body, they couldn’t help but show looks of envy. Gillian, however, paid no mind to her state of undress. She walked over quickly, snatched the exquisitely crafted black leather armor, and asked in delighted surprise, “Is this for me?”

Victor let his personal handmaidens dress him, then walked to Gillian’s side, wrapped an arm around her slender waist, and nodded. “This is Dragon-Lizard leather armor made from the hide of the two-headed Dragon-Lizard Itugos. It has one hundred percent elemental affinity. For a Great Knight, this set of leather armor surpasses ordinary Mithril armor in every way except for its limited lifespan. When Her Highness Sylvia slew the great beast Itugos, I asked for an extra piece of its hide… I was originally planning to give this to you as a gift to congratulate you on advancing to mid-rank Silver Knight. But now… I’ll have to give it to you early.”

“Here, let me help you put it on and see if it fits,” Victor said, solicitously helping Gillian into the undergarments and the Dragon-Lizard leather armor.

Gillian looked at herself in the mirror from every angle, her beautiful face flushed with joy. She rose on her tiptoes, then suddenly frowned and said, “I’ve gotten shorter… Why don’t the ladies’ combat boots have heels?”

“Darling, this is for your safety,” Victor said softly.

Gillian turned her head, looking at Victor with disdain. “Hmph… you just wanted to save on the Dragon-Lizard leather.”

Victor stared at Gillian’s breastplate and said indifferently, “Save on material? Heh, Darling, you’re overthinking it.”

Gillian proudly puffed out her chest, her smile like a blooming flower. “It fits quite well.”

“Of course it does. I measured it myself and cut it myself. How could it not fit?” Victor teased.

Gillian rolled her eyes, leaned into Victor’s embrace, wrapped her arms around his neck, and asked in a cloying voice, “Darling, you just said this was a gift for my advancement to mid-rank Silver Knight?”

Victor instantly had a bad feeling. He heard Gillian ask again, “Then you still have to compensate me for a dress. My standards aren’t high. A Spider silk long dress will be enough for me to forgive your rudeness.”

“…”

Victor gestured for the Elina sisters to leave first. After Elina closed the door, Victor took a copper coin from a drawer in the cabinet and tossed it to Gillian.

Gillian’s slender hand shot up and caught the coin, holding it between her fingers for a closer look. She saw that the copper coin was a perfect imitation of a Copper Sol, but it was only half the size and one-fifth the thickness.

“Is this a new copper coin you’ve minted?”

“Mm,” Victor nodded and said, “A Copper Penny. Ten Copper Pennies for one Copper Sol. I lose fifteen percent of the copper material when I mint Copper Pennies. The more I mint, the more I lose… How much does the Chepman family lose minting Copper Sols?”

“Five-percent.”

Gillian bent a finger and said, “Darling, well, what I mean to say is, there’s no need for two minting workshops to exist at the same time… don’t you agree?”

“Fine by me…” Victor said, looking at Gillian with a smile that wasn’t quite a smile.

“Not fine!” Gillian’s expression changed drastically. She waved her hands repeatedly and said fiercely, “Don’t you dare think I’ll mint Copper Pennies for you! Don’t even think about it!”

“I’ll mint Copper Sols for you,” Victor said with “deep affection.”

“Deal!” Young Lady Chapman agreed decisively, slapping the back of Victor’s hand. Her eyes crinkled with a smile as she said, “No take-backs… and we’ll just forget about you tearing my dress.”

“…” Victor fell silent for a few seconds, collecting his chaotic emotions before looking up. “Gillian, the Randall family’s financial burden is much heavier than the Chepman family’s. To complete the task of minting five million Copper Sols a year, I would lose 485 Gold Sols annually. And that’s not even counting the transportation costs for the copper ore… If Earl Chepman wants me to mint coins for him, he’ll have to bear the shipping costs for the copper ore and half of the annual minting losses.”

“What if we just pay for the shipping?”

Gillian started to act coquettishly. Whenever she acted coquettishly with Victor, her IQ would drop. But Young Lady Chapman would never act that way in front of others. That was why Victor had sent the Elina sisters away.

“We can sell you the refined copper directly. That way you can save on the cost of smelting the copper ore.”

How could Victor possibly agree to such an “outrageous” condition? By refining copper ore with his fire-crystal furnace and then minting Copper Sols, Victor could earn an extra seventeen percent. The more he minted, the more he earned. Minting coins from refined copper would truly be a losing proposition.

He asked, “Will refined copper and copper ore be the same price?”

Gillian snapped angrily, “How is that possible? Do you take me for a fool?”

“Even if you bring me refined copper, I’ll still have to re-melt it.”

Victor shook his head and said, “How about this: the Chepman family supplies me with an unlimited amount of copper ore at ninety percent of the market price. I will mint Copper Sols for you, at least eight million a year.”

Gillian still wanted to haggle, but Victor silenced her with a kiss on her full, sexy lips.

“Darling, don’t say any more… You can’t make this decision. Go back and ask My lord Earl Chepman and see if he agrees,” Victor said, releasing Gillian and shaking his head. “The Chepman family definitely loses more than a five-percent share on minting Copper Sols—it’s at least fifteen percent. And I need Copper Sols to guarantee the value of the Copper Penny. Earl Chepman isn’t afraid that I’ll refuse to take on the task of minting Copper Sols. However, while I collect a transaction tax, I can’t collect it in Wildwillow City, much less the Chapman territory. If I lose too much, I’d rather not mint Copper Pennies at all! If the Chepman family sells me ore at ninety percent of the price, they’ll make less profit, but they won’t lose money. If you mint the Copper Sols yourselves, not only will you lose money, but you’ll also lose the profit from that batch of copper ore.”

“My dear, please convey to My lord Earl that this is the only condition… and a one-time offer,” Victor said seriously. “I am willing to give you a priceless two-headed Dragon-Lizard leather armor, but I am not willing to concede even a single Copper Sol when it comes to my family’s interests.”

Gillian blinked, then smiled with satisfaction. “Now that’s the kind of man I like.”

Victor’s heart hammered in his chest, terrified that Young Lady Chapman might suddenly decide she didn’t want to take “advantage” of her lover after all.

Fortunately, his worry was entirely his own. Gillian hugged Victor, then turned to walk towards the door, only to be yanked back into his arms.

“We haven’t seen each other in so long… and you’re leaving already?”

“You’re so fast,” Gillian said, looking at Victor in surprise. Seeing his displeased expression, she giggled. “Darling, I’ll go back to the Chapman territory first to convey your intentions to my father. I’ll be back.”

Wearing the Aberration Dragon-Lizard leather armor her lover had given her, rushing back to show it off and get praise from her parents—that, too, was Young Lady Chapman’s style.

Victor shook his head and said resignedly, “I’ll see you off.”

The two of them boarded the same carriage and departed from Silver Moon Manor.

Before they parted, Gillian asked through the carriage window, “My dear, you really don’t care that the Randall family has no share in the shops of the expanded Wildwillow City?”

Victor revealed an elegant smile that said everything was under control, and waved goodbye to Gillian.

As he watched Gillian’s carriage drive into the Chapman territory, Victor’s radiant smile was instantly shrouded by a dark cloud.

He pondered for a moment, then raised an eyebrow in a cold sneer, pulled on the reins, and said calmly, “Let’s go back.”

Twenty fully armed Swiftbird light cavalrymen surrounded their master and rode off towards Laketon.

Chapter 475: Frazzled

How important was Wildwillow City to the House of Randell?

Randell Fief was situated on the southwestern frontier of the human kingdoms, a terrible geographical location that made it susceptible to being marginalized. If it weren’t for the existence of the Ant-men, Victor would have preferred to close his doors, focus on development, and live a life of leisure. But since Randell Fief had become the front line against the Ant-men, Victor needed to supplement his population, resources, and technology to strengthen his domain as quickly as possible. The long, narrow territory of Bryat’s fief was the best bridge for Victor to connect with the outside world.

Over eighty percent of the Randell family’s trade took place in Wildwillow City. The refugees absorbed by the family were also guided through Bryat’s fief, flowing into the Randell Fief in an orderly fashion. To ensure the long-term stability of his family’s trade port and population absorption policies, Victor had taken control of one-seventh of the shops in Wildwillow City.

The proportion of shops determined each family’s influence in the Wildwillow City market.

For the sake of his Golden Company strategy, Victor had decided to revitalize trade in Raven Town, which was hundreds of kilometers away. He pushed for the Centaur Hills to form the Two-headed Lizard Merchant Guild for centralized procurement and purchasing. But Raven Town was too far from Randell Fief, so the bulk of the Randall family’s goods were still sold through the Wildwillow City market.

Logically, since the House of Randell’s goods were now to be sold to the Two-headed Lizard Merchant Guild, Victor’s shops in Wildwillow City had become less important. But in reality, he still had goods from the Larkspur Mountains and the Great Marsh. These goods had to pass through the shops in Wildwillow City, be sold to freemen merchants, flow into the Black Markets of various large towns, and ultimately realize the Golden Company’s eastward expansion strategy.

If the House of Randell were to lose its influence in the Wildwillow City market, it would mean losing control over the freemen merchants. They could simply buy goods from other families’ shops for transport and resale. The Golden Company’s eastward expansion strategy would completely collapse.

When the Briatte family planned to expand the Wildwillow City market, Victor had given Judy a heads-up, requesting to secure one-seventh of the new shops to maintain the Randell family’s percentage of ownership.

Today, Wildwillow City boasted convenient transportation, prosperous trade, abundant resources, and a dense population. The Briatte family relied on the city’s commerce, reaping handsome profits. Victor wouldn’t dare claim all the credit for the Briatte family’s current situation, but he was a major driving force behind it.

So when Gillian suddenly told him that the House of Randell had no share in the new market’s shops, Victor was shocked, furious, and suspicious.

Why didn’t Judy inform me about the power struggle between her paternal and maternal relatives within the Briatte family?

Victor first suspected that Judy had betrayed him, then guessed that she might be held against her will, unable to act freely.

After sending Gillian off, Victor returned to Laketon that same night and immediately summoned Old John, the man in charge of the Wildwillow City shops and gangs, to inquire about the situation. Old John reported that all was calm in Wildwillow City, with no abnormalities whatsoever.

Still uneasy, Victor dispatched a 500-man battalion of mercenaries to the border outpost between the Randell and Bryat fiefs the next night. He himself took thirty Personal Guards to secretly visit Judy’s father—the lord of Golden Creek Town, Baron Matthew Briatte.

The Baron was extremely enthusiastic about Victor’s sudden visit. He beat around the bush for a long time, but the gist was that he hoped Victor could persuade Lady Judy to change her mind and not trust outsiders.

Victor finally understood. It was all as he had predicted. Baron Matthew’s influence in the Briatte family had grown too large, and Judy and her son were beginning to consider the issue of balance, promoting Primo’s paternal cousin to the position of fief magistrate to limit the maternal family’s power. Although Baron Matthew repeatedly insisted that Judy had been misled, he denied that she and her son had lost their freedom.

Victor didn’t give a clear stance, merely inviting Judy to be a guest at Silver Moon Manor.

Two days later, Lady Judy gladly accepted the invitation. Under Victor’s pressing questions, she tearfully explained the whole story.

It turned out that Baron Matthew’s recent greed had been too blatant, and he had been caught red-handed. Young Primo seized the opportunity while his Uncle James was away leading the family soldiers in the Fishman War. In front of Judy, he produced the account books and openly accused his maternal grandfather’s family of embezzling tax revenues from Wildwillow City. He then demanded that his paternal cousin be appointed as the city’s magistrate.

With concrete evidence of Baron Matthew’s embezzlement of his liege lord’s wealth, Judy was speechless and could only order her parents to leave Wildwillow City and return to Golden Creek Town.

Judy told Victor that she felt caught between her son and her parents, and that this was a good opportunity to chasten Baron Matthew. But it was, after all, a Briatte family scandal, so there was no need to broadcast it.

As for the new shops in the expanded Wildwillow City market, Judy stated clearly that she would absolutely protect the interests of the House of Randell and was saving the best shops for Victor.

Was it really that simple?

Victor believed Judy wasn’t lying; she didn’t have the ability to deceive him. He also believed Earl Chepman wasn’t lying; he had no reason to play such a joke on Victor.

So what was Earl Chepman’s purpose in having Gillian deliver that message? Why did he say that there were no shops for the House of Randell in the new market?

Earl Chepman’s status was worlds apart from Judy’s. He knew things that Judy might not, even if they concerned the internal affairs of Wildwillow City.

The animosity between the two factions in the Briatte family had been brewing for a long time, so their infighting seemed logical. But without an external push, the balance of power in Wildwillow City would not have shifted so easily. Since both Judy and Baron Matthew were in the dark, it meant Primo’s paternal family had found a powerful backer.

In the Kingdom of Gambia, the only powers that could make Earl Chepman wary were the Royal Family and a few dukes. The Royal Family could be ruled out first, as Earl Chepman was close with Aerie Fortress. Duke York and Duke Wellington had businesses in Wildwillow City; they too would not want outsiders sharing the commercial profits. That only left Duke Nimes and Duke Joshua. If either of them extended their influence into Wildwillow City, it would certainly alarm Earl Chepman, because the city was too close to Copper City—a fief he coveted.

The question was, if Duke Nimes or Duke Joshua wanted to meddle in Wildwillow City’s trade, why didn’t they inform Laketon first?

The matter was already clear. By hiding it from Lady Judy and secretly supporting Primo’s paternal family in their power grab, they were probing Victor. If Victor failed to take effective measures, Judy would surely be driven out of the Briatte family.

However, Victor had no energy to deal with the affairs of Wildwillow City right now. Their timing was perfect, right at the start of the Fishman War.

The Fishman War in the Centaur Hills had begun. The performance of the Randell family’s mercenary soldiers on the battlefield could only be described as abysmal.

Overwhelmed, Victor said nothing. He sent Judy away and went straight to the main battlefield of the mercenary legion.

In the first month of the Season of Fire, the weather grew progressively hotter. The scorching sun baked the earth, and the water level of the Goldwater River dropped, exposing large swathes of sun-dried tidal flats. Hundreds of Fishmen scrambled over the flats, feasting on the corpses of their own kind, the thick stench of blood filling the air.

On the other side of the tidal flat, Randell craftsmen had enclosed a safe zone with cheval de frise and arrow towers. Inside, Centurion Alda was roaring at a group of mercenary soldiers, their left arms bound with black cloth strips.

“My equipment is the same as yours! Hardened leather armor—the Fishmen don’t have it! A shield—the Fishmen don’t have it! A helmet—the Fishmen don’t have it! A one-handed refined iron spear—the Fishmen don’t have it! Battle boots, hardened leather gauntlets, hard leather greaves… the Fishmen have none of these! All they have are scales that can’t stop a refined iron spear, teeth that can’t bite through hardened leather armor, ridiculous brains, and short statures! One warrior handling three Fishmen is no harder than butchering three large fish.”

Alda pointed to an arrow tower and yelled, “See that? That’s an arrow tower. Our job is simple: go out onto the tidal flat and slaughter Fishmen, then retreat within the tower’s range to rest. Then slaughter more Fishmen, and retreat to rest again… Isn’t that simple? Yet some of you can’t even do something so simple! Some of you still retreat in the heat of battle, getting your brothers killed!”

The centurion’s eyes were bloodshot, his face contorted in a ferocious snarl. “I’m talking about you lot, the ‘black bands’! You’re as weak as maggots in a cesspool, as disgusting as a boil on a cow’s ass… Ptooey!”

Alda spat on the ground and began pacing murderously in front of the deserters, a cold smirk on his face. “Do you know why I chose you for my unit? Because killing you is even easier than killing Fishmen! If you dare to run, I’ll slaughter you all from behind like rabbits, and then my company can retreat and rest!”

Alda’s predatory gaze made the “black bands” turn pale and tremble uncontrollably.

“You’re lucky you have the merciful Master Randell. Even if I slaughter you, the Master will preserve your honor, have you buried in the family cemetery, and grant your families ten mu of allotted land! If you ask me, you cowards don’t deserve such treatment at all!”

Alda pulled over a soldier with a red band tied to his arm and bellowed, “Him! Yesterday, he was just like you, wearing a black band. Today, he’s already switched to a red one!”

“Soldier, tell these scum how you got rid of your black band!”

“Follow orders! The black bands charge first to kill Fishmen and are the last to retreat. As long as you don’t betray your comrades, you can get rid of the black band!” the soldier answered loudly, puffing out his chest. He paused, then grinned. “Getting killed by a Fishman also gets rid of the black band.”

“That’s right! Whether you live or die, as long as you’re brave, you can get rid of the black band.” Alda laughed heartily, clapping the soldier on the shoulder. “Warrior, tell these wretched worms how you earned your red band!”

“I killed six Fishmen yesterday. The Legion Commander himself tied this red band on for me and even rewarded me with one Silver Sol!” the soldier said with pride.

“Did you hear that? Kill five fish and survive, and you’ll be qualified to wear a red band! You get five Copper Sols for every fish you kill! The riverbank is littered with Copper Sols, just waiting for you to pick them up!”

The eyes of some among the “black bands” began to gleam, and they looked eager to try.

Alda’s voice grew hoarse. He untied his waterskin, took a few big gulps, wiped his mouth, and cursed under his breath, “Shouting at these idiots is more tiring than killing Fishmen.” He paused, then continued to shout, “The brave get rid of their black bands, and the brave and wise wear red bands. What is wisdom? Trusting your comrades, protecting your comrades, relying on your comrades, and using everything you’ve learned! Do you understand?”

“Understood!”

“Move out!”

Alda put on his helmet, picked up his shield and one-handed halberd, and led ninety soldiers past the safety line and onto the tidal flat. Two other prepared centuria followed. All the “black bands” formed up in a battle line at the very front of the formation.

Seeing the invaders, the Fishmen on the tidal flat shrieked and charged. The two sides collided, slaughtering each other, and the blood of the Fishmen soon stained the riverbank red. As the mercenaries pushed forward, more Fishmen emerged from the river. The battle became a stalemate, and the “black bands” serving as the assault team began to take casualties. Those who turned to flee were, without exception, ruthlessly cut down by the three centurions and their guards.

Atop an arrow tower in the camp, Narsen, wielding two Adamantine battleaxes, watched the battle below and laughed with satisfaction. “I feel so much better seeing those ‘black bands’ get killed! It’d be great if all those cowards who got their comrades killed died!”

“It’s much better than ten days ago.”

Nicole, clad in Adamantine armor, turned her gaze to Victor beside her and said with a small smile, “You really have a way with things, my dear.”

The mercenary soldiers were superior to the Fishmen in strength, intelligence, equipment, martial skill, and organization, but the cowardice and incompetence of the new recruits had been unexpected.

The Fishmen wouldn’t venture beyond the tidal flats, and the purpose of the Fishman War wasn’t to exterminate the entire Fishman race. The human army had complete control over the intensity and frequency of the battles. In theory, 500 mercenary soldiers should have been enough to control a stretch of riverbank and toy with the Fishmen. The reality, however, was that the mercenaries had collapsed on the spot upon seeing the dense swarm of Fishmen crawling ashore from the river. They didn’t even know how to flee properly. How could deserters, pushing and shoving each other in a chaotic mob, possibly outrun riverbank Fishmen?

Fishmen had always grown more frenzied with victory, their numbers swelling as they did. A full-strength battalion of 500 had lost nearly half its men, with all officers at the rank of Centurion and above, along with the Alchemical auxiliary soldiers, wiped out. Nicole and Narsen had been forced to intervene personally to scatter the pursuing Fishmen.

The law of the mercenary army was clear: desertion in the face of the enemy was punishable by death!

But how to carry it out? If they truly executed them all, the entire 500-man battalion would be dead, and the 3,000-strong mercenary army would be finished instantly. But not executing them… meant they were even more finished!

The first thing Victor did upon arriving at the riverbank was to single out the deserters, tie black bands on them, and integrate them into other centuria, forcing them to serve as cannon fodder. After several vicious battles, most of the deserters were dead, and those who survived had been transformed.

Ten days into the war, the mercenary legion had suffered over 400 casualties, more than 200 of whom were deserters executed by officers. The number was staggering, but in the context of each battle, it seemed insignificant. By the tenth day, the morale of the mercenary legion had finally stabilized, its combat effectiveness had greatly improved, and the number of casualties for the day was kept to just over a dozen.

Victor shot and killed a Savage Fishman 800 meters away, then lowered his greatbow and said, “This Fishman War will last at least five or six years… so far, compensating the fallen of the mercenary legion has cost me over four thousand Gold Sols and nearly four thousand mu of allotted land.”

Narsen lowered his head and muttered, “If you ask me, those deserters don’t deserve any compensation…”

“Compensation! Of course, there must be compensation… the allotted land is still my land, the compensation money will still flow back into the family’s Treasury, but the mercenary legion is no longer the same mercenary legion it once was.” Victor watched the mercenaries fighting bravely and smiled. “Bring all the mercenary soldiers over and have them take turns on the front line.”

Nicole’s heart stirred, and she asked softly, “My dear, are you leaving?”

“Yes.” Victor nodded. “Last night, Father Dayn sent someone to show me a letter from the resident priest of Wildwillow City. I already know that Duke Nimes and Duke Joshua have joined forces to plot against our House of Randell… I’m preparing to make a trip to Rose Manor to talk to Sylvia about this.”

Nicole said worriedly, “If My Lady didn’t alert you, she must have her difficulties…”

As she was speaking, One-Eyed Dragon Gru climbed the arrow tower. He saluted Victor and Nicole and said breathlessly, “My lord, Father Dayn sent a message. Esteemed master Miller has heard about the ‘black bands’ and is coming to settle accounts with you… Father Dayn can’t stop him, so he said you’ll have to figure something out yourself.”

Narsen’s face changed dramatically, and he said quickly, “My lord, we absolutely cannot let Father Miller come over here!”

Victor gave a dry laugh and turned to Nicole. “I’ll head back first… You two carry on as you have been! In any case, all those who die in battle are my vassal soldiers.”

Chapter 476: The Unhappy Miller

The small church in the center of Laketon had been demolished, and the church square had become a massive construction site where a thousand craftsmen toiled under the sweltering sun, their sweat pouring down like rain.

For the construction of the Randell Fief’s great cathedral, the villagers from every corner of the fief vied with one another to volunteer their labor. To the faithful, laying even a single brick for a sacred church was an honor, and they would not ask for even a single Copper Sol in wages.

The Church never worried about manpower or wages when building cathedrals, but the costs of building materials and the food and lodging for the craftsmen still had to be covered. Viscount Randell had taken on the expenses for the cathedral’s construction materials and meals, a single act that saved the Church over two hundred thousand Gold Sols.

According to the architectural plans, the Randell Cathedral would use limestone for its foundation and green brick for its main structure. It would cover a total area of nineteen thousand square meters and be able to accommodate over thirty thousand people for Mass at once. The prayer hall would be forty-one meters wide and one hundred and two meters long, with the central vault reaching a height of forty-five meters.

The main body of the cathedral was expected to be completed in five years. The rest of the work would be the carving of its exterior features, including pointed arches, pilasters, crystal windows, and over a hundred spires pointing toward the sky. The tallest of these would be ninety-seven meters high, second only to the one hundred and twenty-six-meter-tall Silver Spire and the one hundred and forty-seven-meter-tall Cathedral of Radiant Brilliance in Eyer. In addition, there would be over a thousand statues of various shapes and sizes inside and outside the cathedral, and the vaulted ceilings would be adorned with frescoes. The entire project would take at least fifty years to be fully completed.

The overall architectural plan for the Randell Cathedral was personally designed by Victor. It emphasized the accommodation of believers from all social classes to pray together, creating an atmosphere that was both magnificent and solemn, yet also possessed a vibrant, worldly feel. It was designed to integrate the functions of preaching, recreation, art and knowledge collection, and medical aid, subtly catering to the needs of the centralized system of allotted land—a design anachronistic for its time.

Victor was investing a huge sum of money and decades of effort into building the Randell Cathedral not only for his own political purposes but also to continuously draw upon the knowledge the Church had accumulated over the years.

When Father Miller heard Victor’s design proposal, his old face bloomed into a smile. His favorite pastime now was to wander around the construction site every day.

Today, however, the workers did not see Father Miller’s familiar figure.

A carriage laden with military supplies was stopped on the road outside Laketon. The driver stared in bewilderment at the two priests who were pulling and tugging at each other. A few church attendants standing nearby were snickering.

Dayn, dressed in the robes of a level four priest, grabbed Miller’s arm and spoke to the driver with a dignified yet gentle tone, “Believer, the soldiers fighting at the front need these supplies. You should get on your way, lest you be punished by His Excellency the Legion Commander!”

Remembering the consequences of being late, the driver immediately shrank back, quickly urged his draft horse forward, and called out, “Esteemed Fathers, I’ll be on my way!”

“Hey… Don’t go! Take me with you, take me with you…”

Miller finally broke free from Father Dayn’s pestering and chased a few steps after the carriage. Seeing it speed up with no sign of slowing down, he had no choice but to stop. He turned and furiously rebuked Father Dayn, “Dayn! I am the resident priest of the Randell Fief, and you are my assistant!”

Straightening his wrinkled priest robes, Dayn said unhurriedly, “My lord Miller, you are the resident priest of the Randell Fief, and I am your assistant priest.”

“Then where is my carriage?” Miller pointed at Dayn’s nose and commanded loudly, “The resident priest needs to travel. Get my carriage for me!”

“The church carriage is broken and is being repaired.” Father Dayn spread his hands and shrugged.

“Fine!” Father Miller laughed in exasperation and nodded. “If the carriage is broken, I’ll walk. If I want to go somewhere, there is no place I cannot reach.” With that, he beckoned to two young church attendants. “Come, walk with me to the riverbank defenses. Your Tutor’s greatest skill is walking on his own two feet. You two little ones must also learn to walk long distances… There’s a lot to it.”

The two church attendants glanced at each other and trotted to catch up with the old priest. Dayn and his own attendants followed as well. He earnestly tried to persuade him, “My lord Miller, you and I are both preaching priests. During wartime, we have no right to interfere in the affairs of battle priests. Since the battle priest Marka has not sought our help, we should not forsake our duties as preaching priests. If we were to abandon our posts, the church affairs in the Randell Fief would descend into chaos… The sick would go untreated, no one would organize the believers for prayer… If the lambs cannot find their shepherd, they will think a full-scale war has broken out in the Randell Fief. Not only will the fief’s operations suffer serious problems, but if the populace panics and flees, the consequences will be unimaginable!”

Father Miller’s walking pace had slowed noticeably. Dayn struck while the iron was hot, saying with great distress, “There are one hundred thousand people in the Randell Fief! Pacifying these hundred thousand lambs is the responsibility our Lord has entrusted to the resident priest of the Randell Fief. Are you going to abandon a hundred thousand lambs and let them live in fear and anxiety? Let them scatter and flee, causing an irreversible disaster?”

Miller finally stopped and said hesitantly, “But isn’t there still you?”

“How can I compare to you… The Randell diocese was founded by your hand. Before His Holiness the Pope left, he presided over a great service in Laketon. In front of tens of thousands of believers, he personally handed the scepter of authority into your hands.” Father Dayn offered a sycophantic smile before his expression turned serious again. “During wartime, the resident priest must not leave the church without authorization… This is the rule, and also tradition. As long as the believers see you in the Laketon church, they will know this is still a land illuminated by the holy light.”

Miller’s graying brows furrowed, and he muttered, “Why is it so troublesome? I never had so many rules when I was a priest in other places.”

An offensive war and a full-defensive war were entirely different in nature. The Fishman War initiated by the Kingdom of Gambia was an offensive war. With the lord having an heir and the resident priest having an assistant, they could perfectly well leave the fief or diocese during an offensive war.

Father Dayn was deliberately conflating the concepts. Miller didn’t know the specific regulations, but he knew Dayn wasn’t telling the whole truth. Still, Miller had to admit that Dayn’s words held some reason. The real reason Father Miller had stopped was because he foresaw that Victor was about to arrive.

Just as Dayn was about to persuade him further, the cry of Swiftbirds echoed from a distance. Not long after, Viscount Randell, flanked by dozens of Swiftbird cavalry, rode up to the two priests.

“Your Excellency Dayn, I’d like to speak with Esteemed Master Miller alone.”

Victor dismounted his Swiftbird and gave Father Dayn a friendly, meaningful look.

Dayn understood immediately. He nodded and gestured for all the church attendants to leave.

“On guard,” Victor ordered, and the Swiftbird light cavalry scattered to form a perimeter.

Victor took Father Miller’s arm and walked a few steps into the woods by the roadside. He released his arm and smiled. “Dayn served as a church attendant by His Eminence Clement’s side for ten years and worked as an assistant under Bishop Pello for a full twelve years. He’s already a level four priest before the age of forty-five, one could say his future is boundless. To have the Pope’s student as your assistant shows just how much face you have.”

“The Church has been supervising God-favored priests for more than a day,” Father Miller said expressionlessly. “God-favored priests require supervision, but what about lords? Do they not need it?”

Victor pondered for a moment, then nodded. “A lord accepts the supervision of the resident priest. But what if our views differ? Shouldn’t we have a proper talk?”

“Talk!” Father Miller snorted. He found a tree stump to sit on and asked with a face full of anger, “Let’s talk about those ‘black bands.’”

Victor smiled faintly. “You first. What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know what to do!”

Father Miller said righteously, “I am learning how to be a resident priest. Do you want me to learn only from Dayn, or do you also want me to learn from you?”

The justification was simply too powerful.

Victor could not refuse to be a tutor to a powerful God-favored one. He eagerly drew his longsword, sketched a simple map on the grassy ground, and said, “The Fishmen are dull-witted. When they encounter a strong enemy on the tidal flat, they will retreat into the river to gather more of their kind to drive away the invaders. We are using this very habit of theirs to launch the riverbank Fishman War and build our port.”

“There are endless Fishmen in the Goldwater River, but the conditions on the Gambis riverbank are uniquely advantageous. The endless hills divide the riverbank into tidal flats of various sizes. The size of the tidal flats limits the number of Fishmen. The Randell Fief has over a dozen tidal flats, but only eight of them are suitable for Fishmen to charge across. One of them is the sluice gate port, and of the remaining seven, the largest can only hold just over five thousand Fishmen, while the smallest holds just over two thousand.”

“What we need to do is simple.” Victor drew a line on the ground. “The Fishmen won’t leave the tidal flats. We build simple fortifications and camps outside the flats, a so-called safety line. The soldiers leave the safety line, enter the flats, and drive the Fishmen into the river. When the Fishmen gather their kin from the water and charge the shore, our soldiers retreat back inside the safety line. Once the Fishmen disperse, the soldiers attack again. By doing this, all the Fishmen in the Randell Fief’s section of the river are drawn to these seven battlegrounds. The Fishmen in the river rush to the battle, with no time for anything else. At that moment, the ten thousand-plus able-bodied hired laborers at the sluice gate flat are racing against time to build an earthen dam by the river, creating the necessary terrain for constructing the port.”

“The soldiers of the Fanged Legion form a line, holding long spears with hemp ropes tied around their waists, standing guard at the perimeter to prevent laborers from being dragged into the river by Fishmen. Even with such thorough protective measures, one soldier and two laborers have been dragged into the river so far… The more lax the soldiers responsible for luring the Fishmen are, the greater the casualties suffered by the laborers and the guard soldiers…” At this point, Victor paused and laughed self-deprecatingly. “Compared to them, my mercenary soldiers are practically playing a game! We have complete control of the battlefield, so I have no idea how those idiots managed to break down.”

“When they saw several thousand Fishmen charging at them, they disobeyed orders, abandoned their officers on the tidal flat, and turned to run.” Victor held up four fingers and said bitterly, “My three Centurions, one Battalion Commander, and all their guards died in battle! That Battalion Commander was an old War Bear veteran who had been with me for nearly six years… Of course, they were inept at leading their troops, so they deserved to die.”

“My officers deserved to die, but what about those deserters? Do they deserve to die?”

“This is not an excuse for you to force them to their deaths!”

Father Miller jumped up and said with deep sorrow, “They were just farmers two years ago! The performance of the other mercenary battalions might not be any better than theirs. You should give them an equal chance…”

“I have given them a chance to redeem themselves… They wear the black bands, charge at the forefront, and retreat at the rear. If they die in battle, I will provide compensation, allot land, and bury them in the family cemetery. If they survive, I will treat them equally and reward them based on merit.”

Victor’s gaze turned chillingly cold. “I am confident that no other lord would do better than I have… For the soldiers, fighting Fishmen is like a risky competitive game, but for the lord, it is a real war.”

“This war will last for several years, until the port and shipyard are built. Every war camp consumes the lord’s military supplies and grain daily. If the Dodor Kingdom’s main legion weren’t still stationed along the Minsk Fortress line, the Kingdom of Gambia would be in no position to trouble the Fishmen. If this isn’t war, what is?”

“Since it’s a war, the Fishmen don’t care if you were a refugee or a soldier two years ago.” Victor smiled. “The Fishmen don’t care, so how can I? I didn’t force them to join the mercenary army… To get free food and drink every day, plus military pay, and then turn back into selfish refugees when they encounter a war—where in the world can you find such a good deal?”

Miller opened his mouth, his neck stiff as he argued, “Isn’t there a better way? If that fellow Narsen had led the troops personally from the beginning, they wouldn’t have become deserters.”

“You were a priest in the Eastern Alliance for so many years. Have you never heard of a Fishman Slayer?”

Victor shook his head and sighed, explaining, “It’s easy for a Knight to kill Fishmen. Kill enough, and he becomes a Fishman Slayer. The Fishmen will actively avoid a Fishman Slayer. If they don’t come ashore, the Fishman War fails… and that’s not the worst of it. If a Fishman Slayer occupies a tidal flat for too long, the Fishman population will give rise to a Fishman Lord.”

Victor frowned. “A Fishman Lord is powerful and possesses tactical wisdom. I once witnessed a Fishman Lord secretly gather over ten thousand Fishmen and annihilate more than two thousand Ant-men in a single engagement. Fortunately, it was killed by the Ant-man chief, or we would have had a huge problem.”

“This is a lesson the Boreans learned with their lives and blood.” Victor smiled at Father Miller and shook his head. “So, I didn’t dare use infantry phalanxes to fight the Fishmen in the later stages. The Fishmen would flee at the sight of that ‘monster.’ If I pushed them too hard and a Fishman Lord appeared, my infantry phalanx would have been completely wiped out.”

The God-favored one fell silent for a few seconds, then cried out unwillingly, “It would still be good if I went and cast a few divine arts…”

Victor’s gaze sharpened, and he said, half-probing, “Old man, we both know what the Randell Fief will face…”

“Hehe, child, you tell me, what will the Randell Fief face?” the God-favored of the Lord of Radiance asked with a grin.

Victor coughed dryly and changed the subject. “No matter what happens in the future, with a port, we can escape to the Southern Continent. But the soldiers of the mercenary army will still have to face even stronger enemies. In your eyes, every mercenary soldier is an object of salvation. But what I see is an army. An army is a whole. To save an army, you must purge it of its impurities. Only then can the army protect itself and the people.”

“How noble of you.” Miller laughed loudly and pointed at Victor. “Why don’t you send Caligula to the battlefield? You know he would desert, and you’re unwilling to force him to his death. So you have your own selfish motives. If you have selfish motives, how can you decide the fate of the ‘black bands’? On what grounds can those officers decide the fate of the ‘black bands’? Can you guarantee that none of them are deliberately delaying the retreat to send the ‘black bands’ to their deaths?”

“I… I don’t know.” Victor’s expression turned grave. He shook his head, pressed his lips together firmly, and said, “I don’t think anyone can be truly selfless… Everyone must be responsible for their own decisions. I do not regret my decision. That’s all.”

“No regrets?”

Father Miller shook his head, his gaze filled with pity. “Child, you are far from ‘no regrets’… To learn ‘no regrets,’ you must first learn ‘to endure discontent.’”

A flash of understanding struck Victor, and he asked cautiously, “What does it mean to learn ‘to endure discontent’?”

“Right now, I am discontented!”

Father Miller said with a stern face, “I want to go to the riverbank battlefield, and no one in this world can stop me! Not even that wife of yours! But I didn’t go. I am here, learning from you. So you are content, and I am discontented! Tell me, did you make me discontented, or did I make myself discontented?”

For a skinny old man with a wrinkled face to be discussing his discontentment with a Knight-lord was somewhat comical. But if a Spirit Priest said he was “discontented,” that was another matter entirely.

Victor smiled obsequiously. “Who could make you discontented? Of course, you made yourself ‘discontented’…”

Miller squinted at Victor. “It’s very easy for me to be content, but very hard to make myself ‘discontented.’ That wife of yours also makes herself ‘discontented’… One day, when you are so powerful that no one can restrain you, yet you can still persevere in being ‘discontented,’ only then will you have the Right to Negotiate with me properly.”

Victor’s heart leaped a few times. He asked with a tense expression, “You… you know what my problem is? Can you help me? No, no, you should help me, right? You’d be so lonely with no one to chat with.”

A faint, white-gold radiance flickered in Father Miller’s cloudy old eyes. He looked Victor up and down and said disdainfully, “Isn’t it just a withering Bloodline?”

Victor was instantly stunned, then looked at the old priest with fervent eyes. “Then please treat me!”

Father Miller clasped his hands behind his back and walked toward Laketon without turning his head. “Where in the world can you find such a good deal? After you return from Rose Manor, I have a difficult problem I need you to solve… You make me content first, and then I’ll help treat you.”

Chapter 477: A Normal Change

Father Miller held everyone in contempt. He had the right to.

Victor hadn’t said he was going to Rose Manor, yet Miller already knew. This was the first time he had displayed his precognitive abilities in front of Victor, which was tantamount to admitting he was a Saint realm priest.

Miller had revealed far too much information during their conversation.

Even if Sylvia could kill Miller in a single move, she truly couldn’t stop a Spirit Priest with precognitive abilities. Victor had even less of a chance. If a Spirit Priest were to use divine arts in front of the mercenary army, he could make the soldiers valiant and indomitable, or he could make them bow in submission. For instance, he could announce the immediate disbandment of the mercenary legion, and no one would be able to pursue charges against the soldiers for desertion.

This was a world where gods manifested, and the faith of mortals in the Lord of Radiance was unbreakable. If Miller were to actually do that, all Victor could do was stare blankly. Miller hadn’t done so; he had shown Victor ample goodwill, indicating that he would not interfere with his secular authority.

He hadn’t done so today, and he would never do so in the future. He wasn’t guaranteeing this with the reputation of a Spirit Priest, but with his very own Path.

The God-favored had explicitly stated that he was learning from Victor, although he had to endure discontent to do so.

Victor understood Miller’s “discontent” as the self-restraint of a Sanctuary-rank expert.

The emphasis wasn’t on “restraint” but on “self.” To restrain the self was to stabilize the self. It was like a strong guard dog that ate and slept, slept and ate, barking when something was amiss and bullying the female dogs when bored. It was a carefree life, but toss it a bone, and it would come running with its tongue hanging out.

One must endure discontent to avoid regret. But what regret could a stupid dog have?

A person who loses their sense of self will be controlled by external forces, no different from a stupid dog. Experts who cannot be restrained by anyone need self-restraint even more, because a self-indulgent expert is more susceptible to the covetousness and manipulation of those with ulterior motives. Wasn’t the wise and powerful First Emperor of ancient Huaxia still played for a fool by court alchemists? The so-called promise of immortality was like a bone dangled before a stupid dog.

The problem a God-favored priest faced was even more severe. The Holy Light of the Lord of Radiance was, in essence, the fervent wish of believers for their own salvation. That was why Miller wanted to go and save the “black bands.” If he had actually done so, he would have felt gratified, but he would have lost his sense of self and been assimilated by the Holy Light.

Miller had told Victor, “One day, when you are so powerful that no one can restrain you, and you can still make yourself ‘endure discontent,’ only then will you have the right to have a proper talk with me.”

This sentence contained so, so much meaning.

Before Victor established the Lighthouse of the Supreme Creator and pioneered the secret art of the mind-bloodline, Miller had never had a deep conversation with him. This meant that Miller wasn’t interested in Victor himself, but in the new ideas Victor brought. In the eyes of the Spirit Priest, Victor himself was no different from an ordinary believer. But once Victor had set out on his own Path, everything changed.

According to the deductions of X-3, Father Miller’s meaning was as follows:

First, we are on completely different levels. I will not interfere in secular matters, nor will I allow extraordinary powers of the same level to interfere with the evolution of the secular world. You are just a lord; don’t even think about borrowing my power.

Second, your Path is correct, and you have the potential to become a Sanctuary-rank expert. I am already being eroded by the Holy Light, afraid of losing my true self and becoming a puppet of the Light. Once you touch upon the upper-level Laws, what kind of attention and covetousness will you attract? If you can restrain your self and hold true to your self, we can still cooperate. If not, if you lose your true self and become the puppet of some existence, I will have no choice but to kill you.

Third, reaching too high while your grasp is weak is your current flaw. I cannot reveal any secrets right now. You help me solve my difficulties, and I can help you solve your problems. To hold true to your self, you cannot be superstitious about prophecies. I refuse your attempt to probe me.

Holding true to one’s self was for the sake of grasping one’s own destiny. Victor had personally witnessed ancient Alchemists enslave alchemical creatures on a mental level; what he feared most was being manipulated by some unknown existence. Therefore, he would rather give up the extraordinary power of the Sun Elves to walk his own Path. And Miller had all but told Victor that his goal was to save the human race and that he would not influence Victor’s choices.

This conclusion was based on the inevitable outcome of the Randell family’s development model and Miller’s demand that Victor hold true to himself.

The God-favored’s words filled Victor with confidence for his future.

At the very least, he can help me solve the problem of my withering Bloodline.

The greatly encouraged Viscount Randell performed with extreme valor in the Queen of Roses’ boudoir. The shy Trisley couldn’t bear being teased by the two miscreants and simply “fell asleep.” Sylvia, her heart filled with joy, pulled her lover out of the bedroom to admire the night view of Rose Manor.

The soft, gentle moonlight, like a thin veil of mist, permeated the tranquil rear garden. Victor held Sylvia, sitting on a rattan swing, enjoying the quiet tenderness.

Sylvia rested her head on her lover’s shoulder and chuckled softly, “My dear Victor, you are even faster than I expected.”

“Faster at what?” Victor was completely baffled.

“The Surge… I originally thought you would need ten years to master the Surge talent.”

Sylvia extended a slender, fair hand, gently stirring the formless moonlight. A cool stream of void water element flowed into Victor’s body, invigorating his spirit.

“What made you decide to embrace the Moon Elf bloodline?” Sylvia turned her head to look at Victor. Her golden hair fell naturally, her watery eyes were like azure lakes, and her crystal-clear red lips curved into a sweet smile.

I can’t tell you that… Victor’s expression was a mixture of confusion and concealed pride. “I don’t know either… Anyway, now that I have the power of a Knight, those high-ranking female knights won’t tease me so easily anymore.”

“Darling, it’s quite the opposite,” Sylvia said, covering her mouth with a delicate laugh, her bell-like voice filled with delight. “When a Silver female knight gestates a Gold Bloodline heir, she can clearly perceive the changing patterns of the Elemental Sea, which is like having one foot in the Gold rank. Your mastery of the Surge means the void water element is constantly purifying your Moon Elf bloodline. This process is irreversible… You are only the Wind Whisper talent away from a Gold Bloodline. Before, the high-ranking female knights only teased you because of my pressure. Now, I won’t be able to control them.”

Irreversible? Irreversible… How could that be?

Seeing Victor a little lost in thought, Sylvia raised her willow-like brows and asked with concern, “My dear, what’s wrong? Isn’t this good news?”

Victor collected himself, shaking his head evasively. “Good news and bad news are twins.”

“The bad news is that you can’t get a female knight pregnant. You’re destined to have few descendants.” Sylvia pecked Victor on the lips and said with a radiant smile, “If you awaken the Sun Elf bloodline, only a female Gold Knight will be able to bear your offspring… and me.”

Victor didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “That seems like good news too.”

“Of course.” Sylvia pouted her red lips and lifted her chin, looking both proud and smug. Then, she wrapped her arms around Victor’s neck and giggled.

After a moment of tenderness, Victor spoke up, “My dear, I want to talk to you about Wildwillow City.”

“Mm,” Sylvia nodded, sitting up straight. She elegantly swept her hair behind her shoulder, her azure eyes fixed on Victor as she asked softly, “I am your wife, right?”

“Without a doubt,” Victor replied with a calm nod.

Sylvia considered her words for a moment before saying tactfully, “My dear, I don’t need to know everything that happens at Silver Moon Manor, but Elina, Alice, Lilia, and Nicole will report to me about who you get close to.”

“Actually, I don’t want to interfere with your private affections either. But the Silver Bloodline and Gold Bloodline are no small matters. Where there are those who wish to obtain it, there are those who wish to destroy it. I won’t meddle with your past lovers, including Catherine. But in the future…” Sylvia said with a half-smile, “in the future, if you wish to take someone as a partner, shouldn’t you get your wife’s consent?”

There was never simple love between lords. Any female knight Victor chose as a partner would inevitably form a political marriage alliance. Political life was treacherous and unpredictable; sacrificing a high-ranking female knight to eliminate a Gold Bloodline was a perfectly normal consideration.

Sylvia’s request was not at all excessive; she was even compromising. Victor raised his hands in surrender and said with a wry smile, “Having you all is enough for me. Please don’t add to my troubles… Even if you agree to someone else’s request, I won’t.”

“Then let me be clear. Now that your Bloodline has stabilized, you can only give priority to the high-ranking female knights of the Centaur Hills.” Sylvia shot Victor a look and said fiercely, “They won’t try to harm you! Even if you refuse them, you must be tactful. They are in great need of emotional comfort before they challenge the Elemental Sea… Mmm, it would be best if they could conceive a Gold Bloodline heir.”

Victor’s head throbbed. He said in exasperation, “We’re talking about Wildwillow City, how did we get back to bloodlines?”

Sylvia blinked and said aggrievedly, “We are talking about Wildwillow City… You had a tryst with Gillian first, then invited Lady Judy as a guest. I knew that when you came to Rose Manor, it was to talk to me about Wildwillow City.”

“My dear, don’t blame Elina for tipping me off… If something were to happen to you, I’d need to know who to take revenge on, wouldn’t I? At worst, you can bribe Trisley to spy on me for you and report back,” Sylvia said with a mischievous smile. “Or how about I move into Silver Moon Manor, or you move into Rose Manor?”

It was only natural for a wife to ask to live with her husband. This proposal was one he absolutely could not respond to.

Victor nodded solemnly and said, “Let’s talk about Wildwillow City. Duke Nimes and Duke Joshua are joining forces against me. You couldn’t have been unaware of this, could you?”

Sylvia hummed, a sound caught between grievance and playful reproach, and asked faintly, “And how did you find out?”

“Father Dane has extensive connections. He helped me ask the resident priest in Wildwillow City,” Victor replied.

“Dane?” Sylvia nodded and said thoughtfully, “Clement’s student is also quite unlucky. After all these years, he could have presided over the church affairs in the Randell Fief, but he ran into a God-favored… Now he can only be responsible for supervising him.”

Victor stared at Sylvia in shock, stammering, “You… this, Father Miller is a God-favored?”

“Don’t be so surprised.” Sylvia’s eyes shifted, and she shot Victor a look. “A second-rank priest who can bring the dead back to life, what could he be if not a God-favored?”

“Clement already told me that Miller was a God-favored before he left.”

Sylvia paused, then frowned and sighed, “According to Clement, the God-favored vary in strength. The strongest was, of course, the first Pope Inoc. And Father Miller is likely a top-tier God-favored as well, one you could consider a top-level Wizard from the Era of the Chosen… However, since Inoc, the powerful God-favored have all been particularly repressed individuals. They are silent figures in history, but the Church believes that the opponents the powerful God-favored face are not in the real world. Clement told me not to mind Miller’s presence, and more importantly, not to provoke him.”

Sylvia nodded and said, “I agree with Clement’s assessment, because I have firsthand experience. The stronger the power, the greater the pressure one endures. It’s impossible for Miller to deviate from the path of salvation.”

Victor’s gaze was burning as he asked, “Why did Clement tell you all this?”

“He wanted to strengthen my resolve to build a port and expand south,” Sylvia explained, a playful smile on her lips. “Miller arrived right after the Ant-man tide… Clement thoroughly investigated the Curia’s records of priest assignments. Miller was very coincidentally chosen for the Randell Fief, and then inexplicably stayed… You helped with that, too.”

“Do you know what this means?”

Sylvia’s red lips parted, and she uttered a single phrase: “Great Divination.”

Legend had it that the Great Divination was not part of the system of divine arts, but a supreme divine art that only the Pope and the Pontiff could master, possessing the immense power to make words into law. The Pope and Pontiff had to pay the great price of a shortened lifespan to cast the Great Divination. There had to be a reason why Miller would use it just to stay in the Randell Fief.

“Rest assured,” Sylvia said, her eyes growing deep and inscrutable. “If the Great Divination involved me, or you… I would have sensed it.”

“It’s the low-level secular schemes that give me a headache. Father Miller clearly doesn’t possess… that kind of ability.”

Sylvia shook her head, dispelling the images of the Pope, Nachtigal, and Neowist from her mind. She said to Victor, “Don’t provoke Miller. It’s a good thing he’s staying in the Randell Fief… Just let him be.”

Victor composed himself, nodded, and then asked, “What do Duke Nimes and Duke Joshua want? Since you knew, why didn’t you tell me?”

Sylvia sighed softly and shook her head. “My dear, the York family is now the Queen’s family of Gambis.”

“What do you mean?” Victor asked, confused.

“It means that everything in Gambis has returned to normal… A Duke no longer needs to mind the mood of a Viscount.”

Chapter 478: The Queen’s Methods

The history of the Joshua and Nim families could be traced back to the early days of the Randt Empire. Their ancestors had followed the Auguste family to conquer the lands of the Brinol Three Forks River basin, jointly founding the Kingdom of Gambia. These two families had endured for a thousand years without falling, their foundations far deeper than anyone could imagine.

And how long was the history of the House of Randell? By April of this year’s Season of Wind, it would have been just six years since Victor’s transmigration. Strictly speaking, the history of the Randell family was less than five years old. Compared to the ducal families with their thousand-year foundations, it was practically a newborn.

The social nature of humanity dictates a pyramidal social structure. It was like a troop of ancient apes—an individual could not survive alone and had to rely on the strength of the group to thrive and multiply. If one member of the group wanted to go east and another west, the group would cease to exist. In such a case, the strongest ape would use violence to force the others into submission. As the troop grew, the leader’s individual violence was no longer enough to maintain the group’s integrity, and the leader required helpers. Thus, upper, middle, and lower strata emerged within the group. When the ape troop evolved into a human kingdom, rule by class-based violence would lead to internal strife, a world where men asked, “Are kings and nobles destined by birth?” Thus, human kingdoms also required rule by class-based ideology.

Violence, class, and ideology were all tools of governance in a human kingdom, and they formed the rules of the political game.

If Victor’s military force was powerful enough to be unrivaled, then he would certainly set the rules of the game himself. But Victor was keenly aware that the Randell family was pitifully weak.

The shallow-rooted Randell family lacked a reliable middle class. The Randell Fief was said to have a population of one hundred thousand, but in reality, half of that population was in Baroness Phoenix’s fief, building fortresses and harbors, managed by the vassals of the York family. The Randell family could not control such a large population.

And look at the people Victor had promoted to his middle class. War Bear Mercenaries, farmers, refugee leaders, freemen merchants… Now look at the middle class of a powerful ducal family… Knights who had naturally awakened the fire of the mind.

Could a Knight commander and a mercenary commander be the same?

Victor had already begun to cultivate his own young Knights, but that would take time. For now and for the foreseeable future, he would have to rely on and respect the political rules of the human kingdom.

In a pyramidal social structure, there was no logic in a superior fawning over a subordinate. Of course, a Duke did not need to heed the whims of a Viscount.

In the past, the Auguste family and the Spirit Knights were locked in a political standoff. Victor had acted as a bridge between the two sides, and the great lords of the kingdom had all been polite to him. Now, with the marriage alliance between the Yorks and the Augustes, Victor’s political halo had naturally vanished. Duke Nimes and Duke Joshua could now contact Goldwater City directly if they had any business; there was no longer any need to consult with Viscount Randell. This was the principle of political parity.

Victor quickly adjusted his mindset, saying with self-deprecation, “After standing before a dragon for so long, I started to think I was a dragon myself.”

“Those are wise words, but I don’t like them.”

Sylvia gave Victor a gentle push and said coquettishly, “You are a part of the dragon.”

“Then why did you hide this from me? What benefit did they give you?” Victor asked, his tone cold.

Whatever Duke Nimes and Duke Joshua were plotting, they were following the rules, and Victor had nothing to say. But for Rose Manor to hide it from him was going a bit too far.

Looking at Victor’s stern face, Sylvia felt a mix of love and exasperation.

As a female Spirit Knight, Sylvia could not find a better partner than Victor. She gave Victor the greatest freedom, fearing he would stray from the natural instincts of his Moon Elf bloodline. Victor had accumulated a mountain of romantic debts outside, and Sylvia had tolerated it. For now, it seemed this hands-off approach to his development was working.

But as the leader of a major power, what Sylvia detested most was the feigned compliance of peripheral lords. In the past, the minor peripheral lords of the York family had lorded their association with the Spirit Knights over others, acting tyrannically and causing trouble that the York family then had to clean up. Sylvia had driven them all away, not sparing a single one. Viscount Randell was brilliant, countless times better than those idiots, but his political instincts were too dull, and he always liked to act first and report later. His capacity for destruction was also countless times greater than those idiots’.

If she tried to control him, she feared she would stifle his talent. If she didn’t, his capacity for damage was simply too astonishing.

Sometimes, when Sylvia thought about the things Victor had done, she would grind her teeth in frustration.

Over a trivial matter, Victor had brazenly shot and killed Austin, a Silver Knight of the kingdom. A dead Great Knight versus a living one—which was more valuable? If Victor had just revealed his Wind Walk talent, Austin would have surrendered on the spot. Wildwillow City would be as it is now, but the York family would have gained the young Primo.

No sooner was the matter of killing a Silver Knight of the kingdom resolved than Victor secretly created The Golden Company. Sylvia had no choice but to readjust her family’s strategy.

You hide so many things from me, and now you have the gall to blame me for not informing you? No, I have to knock some sense into this man… Sylvia lowered her eyelids and smiled gently. “Half a month ago, Bishop Pello showed me the design plans for the cathedral in the Randell Fief. He couldn’t stop praising Viscount Randell’s talent and generosity, joking that he’d want to move there once the Randell Cathedral was built… Just imagining what the Randell Cathedral will look like, I’m already struck by its solemnity and extravagance.”

“My dear, the Randell Cathedral must have cost you quite a lot of money, didn’t it?” Sylvia raised her beautiful face, her gaze full of tender affection.

His lover’s smile was as sweet as honey, but the hairs on Victor’s neck stood on end. He forced a dry laugh. “Not that much… It’s a fifty-year construction period, so the annual cost is only about four or five thousand Gold Sols.”

Sylvia nodded and said softly, “Indeed, not that much money… The political significance of a cathedral is extraordinary. My dear Viscount Randell, your ambition is truly admirable. You are my man, after all. In the future, even the cathedral in the Royal Capital will be overshadowed by the Randell Cathedral, to say nothing of my cathedral in Goldwater City.”

Victor steeled himself and said, “Darling, the Randell family’s foundations are shallow. I’m mainly building the cathedral to attract the collections of books and records compiled by the Church. On the other hand, the Randell Fief won’t have a Monastery without a cathedral… You see, I have to purchase medicinal herbs from Wildwillow City every year to make potions. If the Randell Fief had its own Monastery, the monks would sell me the herbs they grow and teach the farmers fruit grafting techniques…”

“I want to build a grand cathedral too.”

Sylvia looked at Victor with a pitiful and helpless expression.

Victor fell silent for a few seconds. He admitted that on this matter, the Randell family had not considered the York family’s feelings and had violated a basic political rule.

“Alright! I will design an even larger and more beautiful cathedral for Goldwater City. The construction will take thirty years, and the Randell family will donate fifteen hundred Gold Sols to the Goldwater City cathedral annually to fund the construction,” Victor, not one to dither, readily agreed.

“My dear, you’re so good to me!”

Sylvia’s expression shifted from pique to delight. She offered him a fragrant kiss and then said, “The Nim and Joshua families each sent a gift of fifty thousand Gold Sols to congratulate the York family on having a Queen in its ranks.”

Victor raised a slender eyebrow and demanded, “For one hundred thousand Gold Sols, you just stood by and watched them set a scheme to drive Judy out of the Briatte family?”

Sylvia did not respond. Victor continued, “Putting aside my personal relationship with Judy for a moment, you should know the value of the shops in Wildwillow City. The more shops the Randell family has, the more influence I have in the Wildwillow City market. I can decide which shops The Golden Company’s black market merchants purchase goods from. If I lose my influence in the market, it means losing control over The Golden Company’s merchants.”

“My dear, I am in the process of consolidating The Golden Company in Gambia…” Victor explained his plan in full detail, concluding with sincerity, “It will take Sophia at least five years to consolidate the northern trade routes. In those five years, I can sell four hundred thousand Gold Sols’ worth of coffee to Naville, Sus, and the Kingdom of Borea. Help me protect Judy, and I’ll give you half the profits. It will definitely be more than one hundred thousand Gold Sols.”

Sylvia gave Victor a deep look, then shook her head and chuckled. “You’re really something else, using such a method to vie with Sophia for control of The Golden Company. Aren’t you afraid she’ll turn on you? Oh, that’s right, you don’t have to worry. Viscount Randell is bound to have the Gold Bloodline.”

“Does that mean you agree?” Victor asked, his eyes fixed on Sylvia.

Sylvia sighed and tilted her head with a smile. “Walk with me.”

The silver moon was setting in the west as the eastern sky turned a pearly-gray. Sylvia walked across the lawn with her arm linked through Victor’s. Through the slit of her nightgown, her long, shapely legs were faintly visible. Her delicate, jade-like feet, now dotted with morning dew, seemed exceptionally brilliant.

“Gambia’s two ports are being built in the Chapman territory and Nicole’s fief, respectively. The Royal Family, the Joshua family, the Nim family, and the Wellington family all need a foothold near a port to store supplies, transport soldiers and subjects, gather intelligence… There is no better choice than Wildwillow City.”

“What an astonishing fortune this represents, doesn’t it?”

“The kingdom cannot use brute force or political means to compel the Briatte family to obey. But if they were to exercise their rights as lords, raising the rent on shops and warehouses and levying high transaction taxes, that would be unacceptable to everyone,” Sylvia said with a faint smile. “As you said, the proportion of shops determines the influence in the Wildwillow City market. But for the Briatte family, who rely on free trade, market influence can sway their decisions. If all the shops boycott the Briatte family’s new policies, they won’t be able to implement them.”

“Wildwillow City is expanding with a new market. The four ducal families and the Four Great Princes have already decided to reallocate the shops in Wildwillow City. You and the Chepman family are both on the list to be cut down.”

“Who told you to be so close to the port? And to be so weak… Earl Chepman is not resigned to this, so he’s using you,” Sylvia chuckled lightly. “Everyone thinks you are a part of the York family, and that is indeed the truth. I don’t want to take away your existing shops, but the major powers will not allow the York family to occupy the largest share of shops. So, you won’t be getting any new ones.”

Victor thought for a moment, then nodded. “If that’s the case, so be it… But you can at least protect Judy’s position, can’t you?”

“My dear, we have no choice.”

Sylvia shook her head. “For a minor family to climb up, it must rely on the bloodline of a great family. When they develop to a certain point, will a great family give them a descendant with a noble bloodline? At that point, they must find a way to cultivate a noble bloodline themselves. The method is simple: have a naturally awakened female apprentice knight bear the family’s descendants. The Briatte family has adhered to this method for over two hundred years… That is why Viscount Briart married Judy. Primo is the descendant the Briatte family painstakingly cultivated, and he will most likely advance to Silver Knight. As for Judy, having given birth to the descendant of a Silver Knight, her body was damaged. Her path as a Knight is severed, and she can only rely on Vigor Potions to barely reach the initial-rank of a Knight. It is an almost inevitable fate for female apprentice knights from minor families to first bear children for a High-ranked Knight and then remarry… Judy is considered lucky; at least she became Viscount Briart’s wife.”

Sylvia stopped, turned around, and gazed into Victor’s eyes. “Great Knights have strong personalities. If Primo achieves the Silver-rank and takes control of the Briatte family, with you as his backer, what will he do? What will you do? What will you both do?”

The three questions left Victor speechless.

Sylvia said coolly, “We drive Judy out, severing the intimate relationship between you and the Briatte family, and in return, we get a stable Wildwillow City. I will allow Judy to use the Gold Potion. That way, you will gain a beautiful and gentle, experienced female knight. What do you think, my dear?”

“So we just forget about The Golden Company?” Victor asked, unwilling to give up.

“Once the relationship between The Golden Company and the York family is exposed… you know the consequences.”

Sylvia spoke firmly, “Let Sophia deal with the headache of The Golden Company in the east… I only want the medicinal herbs from Arreat. In fact, besides The Golden Company, there are more important things waiting for us.”

“Your rock bricks!”

Sylvia began to walk again, taking Victor’s hand. As they walked, she said, “Rock bricks are more precious than The Golden Company. But we cannot monopolize the rock bricks, nor would it be possible. The key is how to sell the rock brick technology for a good price… With my strength alone, the Centaur Hills cannot withstand the pressure from all sides. But if the entire Kingdom of Gambia stands with us, that’s a different story… Internal disagreements within the kingdom can be negotiated slowly. With the kingdom united against outsiders, what can the Centaur Hills get in exchange for rock bricks?”

Victor said, sounding less than interested, “It can be exchanged for too many things… gold coins, supplies, secret formulas, young Knights with excellent Bloodlines.”

“My love, I believe you can give me all of those things.”

Sylvia wrapped her arms around Victor’s neck, her red lips close to his ear, her breath as fragrant as an orchid.

“What about the right to mint Gold and Silver Sols?”

Chapter 479: Indulgence and Forbearance

Victor’s carriage disappeared at the end of the tree-lined road. Katerina’s smile faded. She glanced at Sylvia, then at Trisley beside her. Seeing them still gazing down the road where the carriage had gone, she couldn’t help but frown, a troubled expression on her face.

“Katerina, what is it you wish to ask?” Sylvia inquired lightly, without turning her head.

Katerina pressed her lips together, her hazy eyes turning resolute. In a low voice, she said, “Your Highness, Victor is building a cathedral of magnificent scale in the Randell Fief, yet he did not discuss it with you beforehand. He has made his will and ambition perfectly clear… I don’t understand why you would still share the minting rights for the Gold Sol with the House of Randell.”

Sylvia turned gracefully, smiling at Katerina. “Victor did speak with me about building a cathedral in the Randell Fief, back when His Eminence Clement was visiting.”

“As for the minting rights…” Sylvia began walking along the path toward Goldwater City. Her back was straight, her long blue dress hiding her boots, making her seem to glide across the ground like flowing water, the picture of a graceful and noble Queen. Well-trained, sword-bearing guards quickly fanned out around them, while Katerina and Trisley followed behind her.

“The minting rights are to be exchanged for rock bricks. Rock bricks are an invention of the House of Randell. Is there a problem with us sharing the minting rights with Victor?”

“But…” Katerina hesitated, but pressed on. “But the scale of the Randell Cathedral surpasses Goldwater City’s, and a fifty-year construction period is enough to keep the Church hooked… It’s true that Victor provided the rock brick technology, but he can’t exchange that technology for minting rights on his own… The Randell Fief is near a port, it will have a grand cathedral, and now you want to give Victor the minting rights for the Gold Sol. The Centaur Hills will end up with two central cities!”

“Your Highness, allow me to offer my counsel. I believe you are being too indulgent with Victor.” Katerina knelt on one knee, lowering her head. “The minting rights cannot be shared with the House of Randell.”

Sylvia stopped, turned, and pulled Katerina to her feet with a captivating smile. “Aren’t I doing this for all of you? The minting rights are a dowry I’m preparing… My dear, are you not willing to be partnered with a Gold Bloodline? If you’re not, Trisley, Audel, and Ulena would be more than happy.”

At this, Trisley’s lips immediately formed a pout. She was quite happy with the idea of having a child with Victor, but she didn’t want the other high-ranking female knights of the family getting ideas about him.

“Hmph. I see Victor as a little brother,” Katerina said coolly.

A little brother? That’s perfect… A flicker of imperceptible joy rose in Trisley’s pale blue eyes.

“A little brother? What good is a little brother?” Sylvia chided with exasperation. “A Knight with a Gold Bloodline resonates with the Elemental Sea. Bearing the child of a Gold Bloodline is like prying open the gates to the Elemental Sea, allowing you to bypass the Trial of Life and Death. Even if you don’t reach the Gold rank through it, you can still live to be a hundred and twenty… And Victor is quite delectable.” She licked her red lips, then tilted her chin at Trisley with a seductive look. “If you don’t believe me, ask Trisley.”

Trisley’s expression stiffened. She silently turned away and stood still, her ears pricked to hear Katerina’s response. Ordinarily, she would have walked off long ago rather than let Sylvia tease her like this.

Katerina, feeling playful, deliberately drew out her words. “Is that so? Then I might have to reconsider… But there’s no hurry. After all, Victor is such a pushover… Isn’t that right, Trisley?”

Trisley, both embarrassed and annoyed, flushed red and stomped her foot. “I don’t know!”

Sylvia and Katerina shook with laughter, and the tense atmosphere instantly dissipated. Katerina smoothed her hair and said softly, “My Lady, Victor has comprehended the Surge and will inevitably awaken Wind Whisper, becoming a Highness of the Gold Bloodline. Like you, I hope he can advance even further… But he isn’t a Highness yet, and it’s still unknown if we can even obtain the minting rights… Isn’t your promise to him a bit premature?”

“Do you think I’m doing this for myself?”

Sylvia’s teasing gaze made Katerina feel a pang of shame. She quickly composed herself and met those eyes, as vast and pure as the sky.

Rock bricks were light, sturdy, uniform, and easy to transport and build with. The raw materials were readily available, and production costs were low. According to estimates from the scholars of the York family’s secret fortress, building a castle with rock bricks instead of heavy, quarried limestone reduced construction time by an average of forty percent and costs by seventy percent. It also allowed for construction on complex terrain, such as mounds and steep cliffs. This meant a qualitative leap in a lord’s control over their territory.

Especially in the current era of great expansion, the rock brick technology would drive every power in the human kingdoms into a frenzy, potentially even sparking wars.

The York family had no way, nor any need, to monopolize the rock brick technology. The key question was what benefits they should exchange it for.

Initially, the York family had been weak and isolated in the vast and sparsely populated Centaur Hills. Sylvia had planned to lie low for twenty years, accumulating strength, before building hundreds of rock brick castles and fortresses in one go to secure a firm grip on the Centaur Hills. Only then would she negotiate with the great powers using the rock bricks. However, Victor then introduced his water projects and New Agro-husbandry. The political landscape of the human kingdoms shifted abruptly, with the various kingdoms turning from internal conflict to external expansion. The York family’s power grew by leaps and bounds, and the Pontiff’s faction allied with Goldwater City. Before Sylvia could adjust her strategy, Victor came up with the Gold Potion and The Golden Company. Shared interests brought the York family and the Auguste royal family together. The York family had, almost inexplicably, achieved a centuries-old ambition—breaking into the inner circle of the Kingdom of Gambia.

The more favorable the external environment, the better the price the rock brick technology could fetch.

Based on the monetary theory Victor had proposed, Enbise suggested exchanging the rock brick technology for permanent minting rights.

Victor believed the ancient Sol Agreement would one day crumble, and gold and silver would circulate freely. But this was not in the York family’s interest. Enbise had gathered the family’s scholars to carefully study Victor’s monetary theory. Their conclusion was that gold and silver could not circulate freely, because neither the Church nor the royal families of the various kingdoms would ever renounce their right to mint Gold and Silver Sols. The Church used faith to rule the common people, while kings used bloodlines to rule the upper nobility; no one had the power to overthrow the ancient Sol Agreement. The only result would be the emergence of new currencies, like the Randell Copper Penny, but in the form of silver and gold pennies.

If the York family could obtain permanent minting rights for Gold and Silver Sols, the benefits from the rock bricks would be maximized.

Enbise had devised a detailed plan: first, unite the great powers of the Kingdom of Gambia as much as possible. Within three years, they would release the costly iron bricks, trading the refined iron of the Centaur Hills for reserves of raw iron. The lords of the Kingdom of Gambia would welcome this. Once the family’s finances began to strain, they would unveil the world-shaking rock bricks. Then, with the Kingdom of Gambia taking the lead, they would convene the royal families of all kingdoms and force the Church to amend the Sol Agreement. From then on, the royal families and the York family could freely mint Gold and Silver Sols without the arbitration of the Church and the Silver Spire, and the York family would enjoy permanent minting rights.

This plan was almost guaranteed to succeed.

First, freely minting currency would alleviate the shortage of circulating money, which aligned with the fundamental interests of all royal families. If the Augustes tried to prevent the York family from gaining minting rights, they would face pressure from both within and without. The great lords of Gambia did not have minting rights themselves; their priority was obtaining the rock brick technology.

Second, the Radiant Knights and the Sasan royal family had deep connections, and they too were desperate for rock brick technology. Without the support of the Radiant Knights, the Holy See’s Curia and Council of Elders would be powerless against a united front of secular lords.

The benefits for the York family of obtaining permanent minting rights were obvious. The family would thereafter enjoy the economic privileges of a royal family. When they needed money, they could simply mint it, ensuring their finances remained comfortable long-term. Even if the York family’s secret gold mine and three silver mines were exhausted, they could buy gold and silver ore from other families. Besides, newly expanded territories were bound to have gold and silver mines.

On a political level, the York family would be permanently equivalent to a royal house, attracting the allegiance of Knight-Nobles. Combined with rock brick fortresses, the Gold Potion, and aberrant war beasts, the York family’s foundation would become incredibly strong and unshakable.

Right! All of this for the family had been brought by Victor. Katerina was grateful for it. Victor’s talent, his Bloodline, his looks, his mystique, and his soft personality all held a deep attraction for her. When Katerina was bored, she would sometimes fantasize about being lovey-dovey with Victor to drive away the suffocating loneliness. But personal feelings were one thing, and the family’s political principles were another.

When Bishop Pello brought the design plans for the Randell Cathedral to Black Fortress, a chill ran down Katerina’s spine the moment she saw them. Only then did she realize that beneath Victor’s frail and handsome exterior lay a towering ambition that refused to bow to anyone.

This was all the result of Sylvia’s indulgence. However, the scale and construction time of the Randell Cathedral had already touched the York family’s bottom line!

As Victor was traveling from the Randell Fief, before he reached Goldwater City, Sylvia had urgently summoned the family’s high-ranking knights and legacy scholars. She publicly presented a report from Elina, stating that Victor had awakened the Moon Elf’s Surge talent and was certain to advance to a Gold Bloodline. He was coming for the shops in Wildwillow City. Then she asked: what does Victor want most?

The family’s legacy scholars replied: Victor wants what he cannot have. Since he has already secretly formed The Golden Company, it means both The Golden Company and Wildwillow City are within his grasp. The free minting rights he proposed are what he truly desires most.

Sylvia’s declaration: Then we will share the minting rights with Victor.

The hall had immediately erupted in an uproar. Duke York was the first to jump up in opposition. He declared he would rather give Victor the family’s shops in Wildwillow City, even shares in the Two-headed Lizard Merchant Guild, to help him protect Lady Judy, than give him a share of the minting rights. Because Victor already had the York family’s rock brick technology and Gold Potion, and he possessed the will to be independent. Giving him minting rights on top of that would mean Black Fortress could no longer restrain the House of Randell. The urgent priority was to placate Victor with Wildwillow City first, then devise a new strategy. At the very least, they had to secure the permanent minting rights first. Victor could not know about this plan!

But Sylvia had said: The family also has everything, which is why it needs a Gold Bloodline even more. I would rather give up the profits from rock bricks than lose Victor!

A Gold Bloodline was, of course, paramount. Without a noble bloodline, a family lacked a unifying force. The larger the territory and the greater the wealth, the more intense the conflicts among family members, making it easy to collapse from within.

But would minting rights truly satisfy Victor? He was already showing signs of wanting independence… What if he took the rock brick technology and negotiated with Aerie Fortress himself? Wouldn’t the family be left with nothing? Enbise’s stalling tactic was the safest approach.

Regrettably, Sylvia refused to listen to any counsel. She offered Victor the minting rights, but with two conditions:

First, aside from Sophia, Catherine, and Gillian, he was not allowed to get involved with any other high-ranking female knights from outside the York family.

Second, he was to give up on Wildwillow City and not interfere with the kingdom’s plans concerning the Briatte family.

Victor agreed immediately and left happily.

Now Katerina was even more baffled. If Sylvia wanted to win Victor over, wouldn’t it have been better to offer him the minting rights with no strings attached and help him protect Judy? What was the point of these strange conditions? Victor was a pushover; did he even have the energy to fool around with other women? These were the demands of a female lord on her husband, not the actions of a wise leader.

Katerina now suspected that Sylvia had fallen so deep in love that she couldn’t pull herself out, and her intelligence had plummeted.

“My dear, you’ve made a mistake.”

Sylvia saw through Katerina’s thoughts and covered her mouth with a smug, delicate laugh. “I know Victor better than you do. He designed the Randell Cathedral to show off his architectural talent and artistic gifts, just like when he invented high heels. It was simply to satisfy his Moon Elf aesthetic desires. He has no idea what it means for the Randell Cathedral to be larger than the one in Goldwater City.”

“Mmm,” Trisley nodded in deep agreement, a shy blush once again gracing her lovely face, making her look exceptionally beautiful and charming.

Katerina looked at the two extraordinary female knights before her with pity. They were too close to the Elemental Sea, indulging in the taste of worldly love, and had been utterly bewitched by Victor.

What is to be done?

Katerina’s face was clouded with worry. She shook her head and sighed, “Construction on the Randell Cathedral has already begun… Regardless, Victor’s design is proof enough of his ambition.”

“That is the result of my indulgence. He is the man I have cultivated,” Sylvia said gleefully, her azure eyes filled with unconcealed pride.

“Katerina, that is your second mistake. You are not facing a true Highness with the proper attitude!”

“What?” Katerina stared at Sylvia in shock, asking hesitantly, “Are you talking about Victor? He is a Gold-rank Wind Walk Archer now.”

“His Bloodline hasn’t reached the Gold rank yet… but he is indeed a Gold-rank Wind Walk Archer. His strength is equivalent to a Gold-rank Gale Knight.” Sylvia nodded gravely, then chuckled softly. “Victor has a secret that only I know… His mental force can grow explosively. He has already reached the minimum level of Spirit for a Gold Knight. Without a doubt, my Lover is a Gold-rank Wind Walk Archer. If he comprehends the Wind Whisper talent, he will certainly become a legendary Highness.”

“Do you understand? Among the powerful figures of humanity, besides myself and Tournans, no one can guarantee a victory over Victor. At the very least, he would be very difficult to capture. No matter how soft Victor may seem, once his power reaches this level, it’s inevitable that his personality will become more assertive. It is only natural for Randell to build a great cathedral.”

Sylvia’s eyes sparkled as she pressed, “Is the credit not mine?”

“Of course, the credit is yours…” Katerina murmured. “Does the York family have two Highnesses now? The most difficult kind, at that?”

“That’s right.” Sylvia bit her lip, speaking with feigned vexation. “By rights, I should be living with Victor, but I have even higher expectations for him. I have no choice but to continue indulging him for a while. However, Victor’s weaknesses are his fragile body and his Nature that loves beauty.”

“So that’s why you made the first condition? To stop him from fooling around outside?” Trisley asked eagerly, then immediately lowered her head in embarrassment.

“Yes.” Sylvia nodded and said gravely, “This secret, I am only telling you few high-ranking female knights. The project over at the sluice gate now requires high-ranking knights with an affinity for the water element to stand guard. Audel, Ulena, and you two will take turns in pairs to guard the sluice gate and prevent the underwater Fishmen from attacking the craftsmen repairing the docks. I am creating an opportunity for you to get close to His Highness, Lord Randall. Whether you can seize it, and whether you are willing to seize it, is entirely up to you.”

A Gold Knight possessed an unparalleled, extraordinary charisma. They basically never had the chance to develop their own family independently. The high-ranking female knights of their faction would be the first to be drawn to them, and then the supreme power of the great family would shift to the Gold Knight. The entire faction would belong to the Gold Knight, so why would he need to painstakingly develop his own family? Just look at Marquess Golan. He now wields the power of the Auguste family. His wife is Roland’s aunt, and his son has a claim to the throne.

How could the York family let His Highness, Lord Randall, get away? What did it matter if the Randell Fief built a great cathedral? What did minting rights count for?

Katerina’s perspective changed instantly. Just then, she heard Trisley say, “Audel and I will go first!”

The relationship between Viscount Fred’s line and the Duke’s line was delicate, a position of mutual restraint. Katerina did not want Audel and Ulena to grow too close, so she approved of Trisley’s arrangement.

Sylvia sighed, her gaze turning solemn. “I also made a mistake… I believe that the woman Victor loves most is me. This is determined by the Moon Elf’s bloodline Nature, which strives for perfection. As his Moon Elf bloodline purifies, the difference in our levels of life will cause Victor to gradually grow distant from mortal women. Just like with His Majesty Draven, the partners who could ultimately accompany him were all Gold Knights. Judy’s interests are insignificant in my eyes. I had no need to consult Victor about a small matter in Wildwillow City; it was nothing more than giving Judy to him as a handmaiden.”

“It is precisely because of its insignificance that I nearly fell into the Auguste family’s trap.” Sylvia turned to Katerina. “The Randell Fief has a population of one hundred thousand, so building a cathedral is reasonable. But do you think Archbishop Saen would agree to the Randell Cathedral being even larger than Brinol Cathedral?”

“How did I overlook that… Could it be?”

Sylvia nodded. “Saen actually agreed to something he shouldn’t have. It’s a pity that although Lazarus is gone, his connections remain. When Pello came to me with the design for the Randell Cathedral, I was also taken aback. Pello also told me that Brinol Cathedral’s Mithril reserves were insufficient to build even a small magic array for the Randell church. If they were to requisition Mithril from Eyer, it would take at least four months. Heh, in four months’ time, wouldn’t I stop Victor from building such an astonishingly large cathedral? Archbishop Saen gave me no time to react. Where did his Mithril come from? It could only have been provided by the Auguste family.”

“Why would the Royal Family help Victor build the Randell Cathedral?”

Katerina drew a sharp breath and said bleakly, “To drive a wedge between us and Victor.”

“Yes, to drive a wedge… Just then, Duke Joshua brought up how Primo’s relationship with Victor would hinder the plan for Wildwillow City. For a small matter like taking down Judy, I naturally wouldn’t need to inform Victor… Heh, once there’s discord on both sides, who will His Highness, Lord Randall, turn to for help? His lover, Catherine. And Margaret Wellington just happens to have taken over the Wellington family’s shops in Wildwillow City. There are rumors about her and Victor, you know.”

“I…” Katerina opened her mouth, but didn’t know what to say.

“My dear, pay it no mind. You are the matriarch of the York family now, not a young lady of the Joshua family.” Sylvia squeezed Katerina’s delicate hand and gave a small, reassuring nod. “Duke Joshua might not even know about it.”

Trisley’s cool, pleasant voice came from the side. “Sylvia, since the Augustes want to compete with us for His Highness, Lord Randall, why did you make Victor give up Wildwillow City?”

Sylvia was silent for a moment before shaking her head. “I’ve long suspected that Aerie Fortress has a Wizard capable of enhancing Bloodlines. It’s highly likely that Victor’s Moon Elf bloodline was purified by him. Because Victor’s mother’s situation was as if from the same mold as the late Queen Eline’s. But how could Victor’s father compare to a Gold Knight? The early death of Victor’s mother proves the point. I suspect that because Victor’s Moon Elf bloodline showed no progress for a long time, the Auguste family gave up on him. Now that Victor has awakened the Wind Walk talent, the Augustes want to get him back…”

“I am the one who created the Lord Randall of today. How could I possibly allow Victor to leave me!”

Sylvia’s long hair flew up without a breeze, and a tangible mental force washed over Katerina and Trisley, causing their faces to pale.

The Spirit Knight calmed down and smiled faintly. “I’m worried the Auguste family’s Wizard left some kind of countermeasure on Victor. The worst-case scenario would be the destruction of his Bloodline… but it’s also possible it could enhance his Bloodline, allowing him to advance to a Sun Elf! I can’t take that risk… So, I tolerate Catherine’s pursuit of Victor, and I can tolerate the Auguste family’s petty tricks to drive a wedge between us. We must pretend we know nothing and have Victor give up Wildwillow City.”

“I understand now,” Katerina said, completely convinced. “Your Highness, you gave Victor the minting rights. He will never speak of it. The Augustes’ attempt to win him over with shops in Wildwillow City will be nothing but a joke. Everyone will be able to see that His Highness, Lord Randall’s feelings for you are loyal and unwavering!”

“His feelings for me were already unwavering!” Sylvia rolled her eyes and pouted. “It’s true that I’m loyal to him, but as for him to me… Hmph!”

“I don’t mind if the Augustes get a child with a Gold Bloodline. If they can help Victor advance to a Sun Elf, they can have two… But Victor must belong to me, and only to me!”

Chapter 480: A Change in Mentality

Gold-rank powerhouses were equivalent to strategic assets for human kingdoms. Their every word and deed drew attention. The moment they obtained power, they lost their personal freedom. Gold Knights spent most of their time in their fiefs, surrounded by loyal and elite retainers. Even going on a hunt was a troublesome affair. If they wished to visit a neighboring kingdom, they had to make preparations months in advance, first obtaining the consent of their own king and the kingdom to be visited. The Church would then make the arrangements, with clergy monitoring them throughout the journey to prevent any unnecessary misunderstandings.

Of course, the primary reason was that the King feared his kingdom’s Gold-rank experts would be assassinated.

No matter how powerful an individual was, there were limits. As long as one was a living being, one could not escape the fate of death. If a Gold Knight with terrifying destructive power were to sneak into another’s territory, it would be seen as an act of utmost malice. If the local lord was confident enough, they would absolutely attempt an ambush to capture or kill the intruder.

In fact, the leaders of any faction were burdened by power and reputation. It was best for them to stay put at home and not dream of roaming about freely.

There were some powerful Rangers in the human kingdoms who valued freedom, but they still had to rely on the Church’s credibility to deal with secular lords, always carrying validating documents issued by the Church to avoid conflicts with villagers. When a Ranger’s strength reached a certain level, a group of followers would naturally gather around them. If the Ranger and their followers were unwilling to accept a lord’s recruitment, a high-ranking priest from the Church would entrust them with the task of eliminating monsters in the wilderness. The reward, of course, would be the legal right to develop the land. Even if a Ranger yearned for personal freedom, they often had to consider their followers, eventually becoming a power in their own right.

The ancestor of the Auguste family was the best example of this.

Once a noble possessed Gold-rank strength, they were immediately thrust upon a throne of power by their political bloc, and all sorts of troubles would follow.

Everyone understood the logic, but experiencing it firsthand was another matter entirely. Victor was not yet clearly aware that a whirlpool of schemes would soon form around him; he was completely immersed in the fantasy of minting his own Gold and Silver Sols.

The Golden Company and minting rights each had their own focus, and both were of extraordinary significance to Victor. From a purely political and economic perspective, one earned money while the other printed it; one played by the rules while the other made them. The difference in status was immediately obvious; the minting rights were clearly in a class of their own.

Realistically, Victor could act on his ideas for the Golden Company and Wildwillow City whenever he wanted, but for now, minting rights were just a thought. However, as the Golden Company developed, it would certainly have to venture into the financial sector. With the right to issue currency in the hands of outsiders, the Golden Company would be completely choked off. To prepare for a rainy day, Victor had preemptively put forth his theory on currency circulation, hoping to guide Sylvia to work in that direction. By his estimates, it would take at least several decades to overthrow the Sol Agreement.

Victor had not expected that fatty Enbise to be so fixated on minting rights, wanting to trade the rock brick technology for permanent—and free—minting rights!

The plan devised by the York family was meticulous. From green brick to iron brick and then to rock brick, they would leverage the barbarians of Raven Town, unite the Kingdom of Gambia, win over the royal families of other kingdoms, and coerce the Church into revising the Sol Agreement. With layered preparations and calculated steps, not only would they perfectly conceal the origin of the rock brick, but they also had an eighty-percent chance of obtaining the minting rights.

Sylvia had expressed her willingness to share the free minting rights with the House of Randall, on the condition that Victor abandon his support for Lady Judy. Her reasoning was simple: it wasn’t that the York family couldn’t protect Judy’s position of power, but going back on their word over such a trivial matter would be a blow to the Spirit Knight’s reputation.

Happiness had come too suddenly. Victor didn’t need to think twice; he agreed on the spot.

With free minting rights in hand, what heights could the Golden Company not reach?

According to the York family’s plan, in as little as four years or as long as eight, Victor could use rock brick to build the walls and fortress of Laketon. Once the main structure of the cathedral was complete, Laketon would immediately be upgraded to a city. Construction could also begin on the Candlefort stronghold on the hill, which would protect the Alchemy Tower.

With the self-sufficient and defensible Candlefort, free minting rights, and Alchemy Tower No. 7, Victor would have nothing to worry about.

Of course, there would still be taxes on free minting. Of the currency Victor minted, a ten-percent share would go to the Church. Twenty-percent of the remainder would go to the Kingdom. As for the rest, it would be split seventy-thirty with the York family, according to the standard for vassal lords. In other words, for every one thousand Gold Sols Victor minted, he would only receive 504 Gold Sols.

The question was, why did Victor have to mint coins at all? He had a better option.

The rule for creating alchemical creatures in the Alchemy Tower was to exchange the master’s Fortune for them. This manifested as sacrificing wealth, including currency and various materials. However, the Alchemy Tower valued materials at less than the circulation value of currency.

For example, with the current appreciation of currency, creating an Alchemical Warhound that cost eight hundred Gold Sols now only required 788 Gold Sols. If one used cowhides produced in the Randell Fief, the amount required remained the same. Yet, 788 Gold Sols could now buy cowhides that were originally worth 830 Gold Sols. If currency had no value, one could only offer materials as a sacrifice.

From this, it was clear that the Alchemy Tower’s sacrificial mechanism encouraged Victor to exchange materials for alchemical creatures.

Logically, Victor should purchase cowhides and sacrifice them to the Alchemy Tower. But he still hadn’t figured out what the tower’s exchange mechanism truly meant. He had concluded that “Fortune” boiled down to harming others to benefit oneself. For instance, the pork turned in by villagers was valuable, while pork from pigs raised by the alchemical militia was not. When Victor sacrificed the villagers’ pork, the villagers had less to eat. In return, Victor received alchemical creatures that were sterile and short-lived. Meanwhile, the villagers’ children, lacking meat, would suffer from malnutrition and grow up thin and short.

Therefore, Victor adhered to a simple principle: whatever the Alchemy Tower’s sacrificial mechanism wanted, he would refuse to give. He would only give it gold coins.

Who knew what that thing really was… it certainly wasn’t human!

Victor had also discovered an interesting phenomenon: the Alchemy Tower valued raw gold and silver far less than the circulation value of Gold and Silver Sols, but raw copper and Copper Sols were valued equally. This was because Copper Sols had always represented the value of the copper itself.

Conversely, once Victor had the right to mint Gold and Silver Sols, he could just sacrifice raw gold and silver directly!

The mountain stronghold held nearly one hundred tons of silver ingots, and Victor had been wondering how to get rid of them. Besides, Lizard Marsh was vast; there were bound to be gold and silver mines. In fact, the alchemical militia of the smuggling caravan had already discovered a gold mine in the mountain forests. Victor was fully capable of mining those minerals and secretly transporting them back to the Randell Fief.

This task required the Golden Company.

The Golden Company’s function wasn’t just to make money; it also had military, intelligence-gathering, and resource-collection functions, while simultaneously shouldering the task of exploring the ruins of the Alchemical Empire.

Minting rights were important, but Victor had no intention of abandoning the Golden Company!

Sylvia believed that “one can’t have both fish and a bear’s paw,” and she had made Victor choose between Wildwillow City and the minting rights. However, she didn’t know that Victor had an Alchemy Tower.

Fish and bear’s paw—Victor could have them both.

Sylvia was right about one thing: in the hands of Viscount Randell, the Golden Company would die the moment it came into the light.

Victor had known this from the beginning. But giving up influence in Wildwillow City didn’t mean giving up the Golden Company. Besides Wildwillow City, he also had Pine Forest Town.

Pine Forest Town was located in the southwestern corner of the Chapman territory. From there, it was only a two-day walk to Victor’s Mithril mine. It also controlled a natural canyon pass, on the other side of which was Bull’s Tail Village in Bryat’s fief. That village was relatively remote, more than forty kilometers from Wildwillow City, and subsisted mainly by exploiting the mountain folk for their goods. The villagers’ master was Judy’s father—Baron Matthew.

Victor and the Chapman family had been secretly trading Mithril, Adamantine, and potions in Pine Forest Town. Initially, he had used the Mithril trade to demand that Pine Forest Town relax its restrictions on freemen merchants and waive the transit tax. His real intention was to turn Pine Forest Town into a black market for his smuggling caravan. At first, the Randall family’s smuggling caravans had all set out from Pine Forest Town.

Later, Judy became Victor’s lover, and Wildwillow City naturally fell into the hands of the Randall family. However, Victor worried that the hustle and bustle of Wildwillow City, with its many prying eyes, would easily expose the secrets of his smuggling caravan, so he continued to stick to the Pine Forest Town black market route. It was only after Victor had complete control over Wildwillow City’s underworld and had improved the public transport in Bryat’s fief that he moved the Golden Company’s black market to the more prosperous Wildwillow City. In the process, the village head of Bull’s Tail Village had become a secret agent for the Golden Company.

Now, Aerie Fortress and the four Grand Dukes had all squeezed their way into Wildwillow City, intending to turn Bryat’s fief into a staging post and supply hub for the major powers. The Wildwillow City market and its underworld gangs were bound for a reshuffle. Even if Victor protected Judy’s position, the Golden Company would be exposed to the spies of every major power.

Wildwillow City no longer met the conditions to serve as the Golden Company’s black market.

Victor decided to reactivate the Pine Forest Town black market!

The key was to act quickly, before Judy completely lost her power, and have Old John use force to compel the black market merchants of the Golden Company to source their goods from Pine Forest Town. At the same time, he would drag Earl Chapman deeper into the affair.

There was almost no difficulty in this; the Chapman family was already in deep, unless they no longer wanted to trade Adamantine for Mithril.

Victor’s carriage did not enter the Randell Fief, but headed directly for Wildwillow City.

Wildwillow City, Wildwillow Castle.

Lady Judy sat gracefully on the Water Lizard hide sofa, her legs held neatly together. Her golden hair was swept up into a noblewoman’s updo, revealing a fair, slender neck. A faint smile graced her lovely red lips, and her emerald eyes were like two pools of spring water, brimming with tenderness, making her look exceptionally charming and moving.

The new magistrate, Lord Weylin Bryat, stood ramrod straight in the middle of the drawing room, his hands pressed tightly against the seams of his trousers. His eyes were fixed forward, his posture as reverent as a well-trained butler’s, not that of a Knight-Noble.

Normally, Weylin would have fixed his gaze upon the beautiful and bewitching Viscountess Bryat. Although this noble lady, famed for her stunning beauty, was beyond his reach, it was in line with noble etiquette to discreetly admire a lady’s beauty. In those moments, Weylin would always fantasize about the enchanting scenery beneath her spider silk long dress, imagining that one day, it would reveal its true form to him.

Weylin was no lecher. In his eyes, Viscountess Bryat was beautiful but shallow, like a fragile, exquisite flower vase. But if possessing this flower vase could serve as a testament to one’s own power and status, any knight would let his imagination run wild about her.

As the cousin of Viscount Bryat and Austin, Weylin believed that Judy was responsible for the deaths of the family’s two Great Knights, which had caused Wildwillow City to lose its autonomy. After being suppressed by Baron Matthew, the family members led by Weylin grew to resent Judy even more. Fortunately, the family heir, Primo, was of noble Bloodline, intelligent, and mature beyond his years. Though young, he could distinguish right from wrong. With the help of Viscount Bryat’s confidant servants, Weylin maintained contact with him, making him realize that his maternal uncle and grandfather were too powerful, endangering the stability of the family. Weylin and the others were greatly encouraged, lying low in silence and awaiting the day Primo could restore the Briatte family to its former glory.

However, just two months ago, things had changed again. Primo’s uncle, responding to the King’s call, had led three family knights and six hundred soldiers south to the Chapman territory to participate in the Fishman War. Envoys from Duke Nimes and Duke Joshua had jointly visited Lord Weylin, hoping to secure a share of the shops in the Wildwillow City market. They promised that the York family would not interfere in the internal affairs of the Briatte family and presented a Vigor Potion specially made in Aerie Fortress to help Weylin and another apprentice knight get promoted to Knight.

The York family promised not to interfere in the internal affairs of the Briatte family. Did that mean Judy had been abandoned by Viscount Randell?

Weylin and his faction’s morale soared. They eagerly presented evidence of Baron Matthew’s corruption and in one fell swoop, reclaimed the position of magistrate of Wildwillow City.

Having finally vented his frustrations, Lord Weylin now looked at Lady Judy with different eyes, and a few new ideas had sprouted in his mind.

Family Bloodline cultivation stressed a clear distinction between primary and secondary lines. According to noble tradition, a widowed noblewoman should step away from the family’s center of power before the heir came of age, so as not to interfere with the family’s line of succession. Not even someone as noble as Queen Catherine of Gambia was an exception. Judy was not a Guardian of the Briatte family; she was merely a female apprentice knight. Since Judy had already produced an heir for the Great Knight, her beauty was of little importance to the noble Viscount Randell.

But Judy was Primo’s mother, after all. She had three knights under her command and was a naturally awakened apprentice knight herself. If she took a high-quality Vigor Potion, she had a chance of becoming an initial-rank knight. The Briatte family was weak now and needed to unite its internal strength more than ever. It would be a pity to force Judy to marry outside the family.

Weylin was eager for an opportunity to have a frank discussion with Lady Judy, to make her see the situation clearly and help restore order to the Briatte family. It would be best if she chose a knight from within the family as her partner.

Today, Lord Weylin had been summoned for a private audience with Lady Judy. He had rushed over excitedly, but upon entering the highest study in Wildwillow Castle, he saw an uninvited guest standing with his back to him at the window, gazing out at the scenery of Wildwillow City.

He was tall and well-proportioned, dressed in a loose fine linen shirt and trousers. His silhouette seemed a little slender. His short, black hair couldn’t hide his slightly pointed ears, and the skin on the nape of his neck was as smooth and lustrous as a finely polished crystal glaze stone. The gentle breeze from the window swirled around his body, ruffling his hair and shirt like flowing water, a picture of natural, dynamic beauty. Yet his quiet, solemn stillness made one feel the surging, immense power beneath that calm surface.

At this moment, Weylin felt as if he were standing in a cold river. He held his breath, standing respectfully with his hands at his sides, afraid that a single misstep would cause him to be swallowed by the river’s undercurrent.

After what felt like an eternity, a cool voice reached the magistrate of Wildwillow City’s ears.

“I personally planned Wildwillow’s market district… Now, it has become so prosperous.”

The man turned around and asked faintly, “Magistrate Weylin?”

Lord Weylin saw a pair of dark eyes that were like the tranquil, profound night sky. He couldn’t help but lower his head and bow respectfully. “Weylin Bryat has the honor of meeting Your Excellency Randell.”

Viscount Randell nodded. “I have seen you. You may leave.”

“Yes.”

Weylin bowed deeply and walked backward out of the room. After he closed the door, the heavy pressure slowly dissipated, yet his mind was void of any extraneous thoughts, possessed only by the desire to leave Wildwillow Castle as quickly as possible.

“Darling, did you come all this way just to see my new magistrate?”

Judy walked forward with a smile, taking Victor’s arm and asking curiously.

Because she was meeting with a vassal subordinate, she wore a relatively conservative Spider silk long dress with a cinched waist. The dress was tailored to perfection, exquisitely outlining her ample bosom, long legs, slender waist, and pert hips. Its elegance concealed a hidden allure, inspiring an impulse to tear the dress to shreds. Half of a delicate, jade-like foot peeked out from under the hem. Her toes were small and rounded, and faint, slender veins were visible on the soft, snow-white arch of her foot. Though not as flawless as that of an extraordinary female knight, that very fragility of life could stimulate a man’s most primal instincts.

Judy was as beautiful as a flower and had a gentle temperament, completely obedient to Victor. Yet Nicole and Trisley, the most jealous of Victor’s women, had never paid her any mind. In fact, even the sisters Lilia and Elina were characters they tended to ignore.

How long could such beauty last? Even if Judy were to resonate with twenty-four Elemental Nodes and step into the ranks of senior knights, a day would come when she would be a woman past her prime. At that time, standing next to Victor, they would look like mother and son.

The difference in their level of life decreed that Judy could never be Victor’s partner.

Victor didn’t share the detachment of a high-ranked knight. While he couldn’t claim to treat all his women equally, he always harbored some degree of affection for them. But as his strength grew, Victor’s mentality had shifted, and when he looked at Judy now, he could clearly feel an indifference in his heart.

As a naturally awakened female apprentice knight, Judy originally had a slight chance of reaching for the Silver realm. But by bearing the bloodline of Viscount Bryat, she had traded her path as a knight for a life of comfort. It was said that Viscount Aubert and Judy had a harmonious relationship, but their sweet love had been as fleeting as a night-blooming cereus. If Judy used a Vigor Potion to advance to an initial-rank knight, she could have one more child. If she failed, she would never be able to conceive again. Viscount Aubert would inevitably have had to find a new woman.

In the end, Judy and Aubert’s mother were both just breeding tools for the Briatte family’s procreation.

This was the fate of nearly every female apprentice knight from a minor family.

Looking at Judy’s emerald eyes, shimmering like spring water, Victor was filled with a sense of pity. He gently stroked her smooth, tender cheek and asked, “If one day, Primo wants to drive you away, what will you do?”

“How could that be possible?” Judy shook her head with a light laugh, speaking with confidence. “Primo is my son. I know him!”

Victor was greatly disappointed. A true partner should be of one mind and walk side-by-side. They could lack power or eternal youth, but they could not lack wisdom and will.

Judy had been in charge of the Briatte family for so long, yet she was completely oblivious to the changing situation, not even knowing that her own son was being manipulated. Victor had to learn of the changes in Wildwillow City from Earl Chapman’s mouth, and he had immediately realized that Judy was about to lose her power.

It would be simple for Victor to rescue Judy now. He only needed to publicly display his Gold-rank combat strength, and Judy’s predicament would resolve itself.

But what was the point? He could help her once, twice, three times, but not endlessly.

If Earl Chapman had remained silent, by the time Judy was driven out of Wildwillow Castle, it would have been too late for Victor to do anything.

Even Sylvia didn’t openly interfere in the internal affairs of other noble families, let alone Victor.

In fact, Victor would rather lose Wildwillow City than reveal his true combat strength.

What if alchemical creatures discovered a new Alchemy Tower? If His Highness Randell was then followed everywhere by a large group of clergy and Knight-Nobles, Victor would be frustrated to death.

Just as Victor could build the Wildwillow City market, he could build a new Pine Forest Town black market. He could give up his share of shops in Wildwillow City, and he could also give up Judy.

Sylvia had spoken of giving Viscountess Bryat to Victor as a senior knight’s handmaiden, her tone as contemptuous as if she were giving away a toy.

If Judy had just been willing to seriously consider Victor’s question, no matter how she answered, Victor would have chosen to let her go, give her a Gold Restoration Potion, and arrange for her to remarry some minor lord.

That would have been the best ending for Judy. Following His Highness Randell, she wouldn’t even have children. She could only be a flower vase, a toy to be ravished at will.

Now, Victor decided to take this stunner before him for himself.

“Darling, what’s wrong?”

The handsome Viscount Randell no longer had his usual gentle elegance. His predatory gaze made Judy’s heart pound like a frightened deer. It was as if she were facing a Dragon—awed by its majesty, yet intoxicated by its beauty and power, giving rise to a desire to be completely conquered.

This strange and wonderful feeling made Judy flush like a peach blossom, yet she trembled with unease. Her full bosom heaved with her rapid breaths. As Victor closed in, she instinctively backed away, but he caught her by her pale wrist.

The next afternoon, Victor left Wildwillow Castle. In a rare departure from custom, Viscountess Bryat did not see him off.

Victor boarded his carriage and glanced through the window at the towering Wildwillow Castle. He sighed under his breath, then shook his head with a faint smile, his brow clearing.

“Let’s go. To Bull’s Tail Village. We’ll take the detour through the mountain valley. I want to reach Pine Forest Town before nightfall.”

Victor lowered the cattail leaf curtain. The wheels began to roll, and the carriage headed toward Wildwillow City’s South Gate. The Randell family carriage had not gone far when a pleasant female voice called out from a distance.

“Your Excellency Randell, please wait. Isa Tyrrell, tax collector of Aerie Fortress in Wildwillow City and a Court Baron, requests an audience.”

Chapter 481: Schemes

“Tyrrell… Isn’t that Catherine’s family? The Aerie Fortress’s tax collector in Wildwillow City is one of the Queen Mother’s people? Why did she stop me? What does she want?”

Victor’s mind raced, a mixture of surprise and suspicion. He pulled back the carriage curtain and peeked outside. A noblewoman with red hair, blue eyes, a fine figure, and a beautiful face was holding the hem of her skirt and approaching gracefully.

She looked to be about twenty years old, dressed in the skirt of a Court Lady with the rank of Baroness and wearing high-heeled leather shoes. Her movements were coordinated and elegant; her steps seemed slow but were actually swift, and with her back perfectly straight, she moved as if gliding, leaving a pleasing and beautiful impression.

One of Catherine’s former court ladies. Her real age should be over thirty… She looks younger. Her heartbeat is steady, her muscles are firm and powerful, and she has perfect control over her body. It seems she has just advanced to an initial-rank Knight… Victor recognized her identity in a single glance.

Isa Tyrrell, accompanied by two attendants, walked up to Victor’s carriage and curtsied. “Lord Randell, good day.” Then she smiled charmingly and said, “Your Excellency, would you mind if I came aboard to speak with you?”

Victor thought for a moment, then nodded. “Of course, beautiful lady.”

“You are truly a gentlemanly lord.” Isa giggled, covering her mouth. She took a scroll pouch from her attendant, lifted her skirt, and climbed into Victor’s carriage.

Victor knocked on the carriage wall and casually lowered the curtain. The carriage began to move slowly, and the light inside grew dim, creating a certain air of intimacy as it separated them from the outside world.

Isa knew full well that Viscount Randell’s gaze was sharp enough to see through the dimness, but she still couldn’t resist the opportunity to study his handsome face.

Sensing the bold curiosity in her eyes, Victor asked faintly, “Shall I light a candle?”

“Ah, no need… This is fine,” Isa said, her face blushing as she lowered her eyes. In a soft, quiet voice, she added, “As you wish.”

Victor smiled slightly and said, “So, your name is Isa.”

“My lord, you know me?” Isa asked, pleasantly surprised.

Victor smiled. “I remember you were one of Her Majesty the Queen’s four court handmaidens, but I didn’t know your name… After my third year at Aerie Fortress, I never saw any of you again.”

“Yes, that was many years ago… I didn’t expect you to remember.” The female knight nodded repeatedly, then said with emotion, “You were only eleven then… We never even spoke.”

The earlier awkwardness vanished, and Isa even began to use a less formal tone to close the distance between them.

“I’ve always had a good memory.”

Victor asked casually, “By the way, where did you go after that?”

Isa smiled demurely and explained, “The royal family decrees that any court lady who has not naturally advanced to Knight by the age of twenty-three must leave Aerie Fortress. I left to serve Lord Rowen Leopold and advanced to Knight with the help of a Vigor Potion. Recently, I was summoned back to Aerie Fortress by the Household Department. Her Majesty the Queen Mother bestowed upon me the surname Tyrrell and the title of Court Baron, appointing me as the resident tax collector for Wildwillow City.”

Twenty-four is the peak age for an apprentice knight. If one failed to naturally advance before then, the chances of success later were extremely slim. At that point, female apprentice knights would typically serve a high-ranked Knight, bearing his children to carry on a strong Bloodline.

If a court lady of Aerie Fortress was not favored by the King and failed to become a Knight, her only option was to serve a high-ranked Knight from one of the great princely families. After giving birth, she would receive a Vigor Potion and attempt to advance to an initial-rank Knight. The lucky ones could stay with the princely family as a high-ranked Knight’s personal handmaiden. The unlucky ones could only leave the bustling Royal Capital and marry some minor lord in the countryside.

This was how the royal families of the various kingdoms strengthened the court’s control and influence over the regional lords.

Isa had served Rowen, a Great Knight of the Leopold family, yet she had not been granted the Leopold surname. She had clearly been nothing more than one of Rowen’s lovers. Still, compared to the court ladies married off to poor, remote regions, her luck was far better.

Victor nodded slightly and, changing his form of address, asked, “Miss Isa, you were not born into the Tyrrell family?”

“I was not.”

Isa shook her head gently and pursed her lips. “I grew up in Aerie Fortress and don’t know which family I was born into… Her Majesty Catherine has always treated me like a sister. To be granted the Tyrrell surname is the greatest honor for me.”

The Four Great Princes are on high alert and guarding against the upstart Tyrrell family… No wonder Catherine sent Isa to the Great Knight Rowen, only for her to be used up and discarded by the Leopold family… In that case, Isa must be Catherine’s confidant, Victor mused.

“By the way, Her Majesty the Queen Mother has a letter for me to deliver to Your Excellency.”

The court lady handed over the scroll pouch. Victor took it, removed the scroll, and read it carefully.

The characters on the scroll were neat and graceful, clearly written in Catherine’s own hand. Every line was overflowing with her affection. The letter was mostly about her admiration and longing for Victor, mixed with some trivialities of court life. She expressed her hope for a chance to meet with Victor and, at the end, urged him to be sure to write back so they could pour out their hearts to each other.

It was the first love letter Victor had ever received, and from his former mistress no less. The more he read, the happier he became. After reading it several times, a smile gradually appeared on his face. Isa seized the opportunity to say, “Your Excellency Randell, if you wish to write a letter to Her Majesty Catherine, I can help you deliver it.”

Victor put the love letter away and nodded. “I would be grateful.”

The two arranged a method for sending and receiving letters. After a bit more small talk, Catherine’s messenger and the kingdom’s tax collector took her leave from the carriage.

The cavalry from the Briatte family escorted Victor’s carriage out of the South Gate of Wildwillow City, heading toward Bull’s Tail Village.

By dusk, the convoy reached Bull’s Tail Village. Baron Matthew had been waiting for a long time and had prepared food and lodging. Victor and his guards had dinner in the village, then declined Baron Matthew’s kind offer to stay the night and drove the carriage toward the mountain valley.

Upon reaching the mouth of the valley, the Briatte cavalry could go no further. They turned their horses and returned to Wildwillow City, leaving Victor’s convoy to enter the valley alone.

The valley was winding and tortuous, thirty-four kilometers in total. Although a simple road had been built, it connected Bryat’s fief and the Chapman territory, making it a no-man’s-land. Naturally, no outposts could be established, nor patrols arranged. The valley was flanked by towering mountains and dense forests, and wild beasts were a common sight. During the day, caravans and travelers would take this shortcut, but at night, the valley was deserted and desolate.

Halfway through, the sky turned completely dark. The soldiers lit Oilwood torches one by one, and the convoy moved like a fiery dragon through the darkness-shrouded valley.

The firelight attracted the attention of wild beasts. Countless pairs of green eyes flickered in and out of sight in the woods, and the howls of wolves rose and fell one after another. Thirty sentinel hounds patrolled the perimeter of the convoy. Hearing the wolves’ howls, they would bark ferociously, their fur bristling and fangs bared, sometimes leaping several meters forward before trotting back victoriously to the guard dogs, showing off their prowess. They never, however, ventured beyond the range of the torchlight.

These creatures, bullies of the weak and cowards of the strong, perfectly embodied the meaning of throwing one’s weight around. With companions by their side, their desire to attack was particularly strong. When hunting wild boar, the sturdier guard dogs had often not yet engaged before the sentinels would be the first to charge, attacking the hindquarters, biting the groin, and tearing at the soft underbelly, displaying the cunning and ferocious nature of canines.

The entire convoy consisted of forty-three Swiftbirds, fifteen Alchemical militia, twenty-five well-trained personal guards of the lord, one noble’s carriage, one small armored war chariot, two supply wagons, ten guard dogs, and thirty sentinel hounds. Forget a mere pack of wolves; even a sleuth of brown bears would be nothing to fear.

The sentinel hounds were exceptionally excited, and so were the young noble attendants like Klaus and Brandon. They stood behind the armored war chariot’s railings, holding crossbows, eager for a fight. They wished a wolf would leap out from the woods.

Viscount Randell usually took them along on his travels, but this was the first time they had passed through the valley at night. The young ones were eager to show off in front of their master.

Shirley, the prettiest of them all, was an exception. She always liked to stick close to Victor. Beldina used to do the same, but ever since Victor suspected she was a Wizard, he was afraid her identity would be discovered and rarely dared to take her out and about. As for Caligula, Victor had kicked him off to the slaughterhouse to kill pigs and build his nerve.

Inside the carriage, the little handmaiden Shirley was kneeling on a cool cowhide mat, her little head nodding off. Her eyes would open and close, fighting to stay awake. If it had been Beldina, she would have long been sprawled out, fast asleep and snoring, probably even drooling.

Looking at Shirley’s delicate little face, Victor had to admit that this little girl, not yet nine, would one day grow into an absolute stunner.

Shirley’s birth mother must have been an exceptionally beautiful common noblewoman, or perhaps an initial-rank female apprentice knight who had advanced with a cleansing potion, like the Elina sisters. The reason was simple: naturally awakened female apprentice knights were almost all claimed by the royal family and the great nobles. House Sorim had been in decline for a long time; it wouldn’t have been easy for them to gather female apprentice knights.

Marquis Sorim’s method of raising illegitimate children was just like the royal family’s method of continuing their Bloodline. The kings of the various kingdoms would resonate with thirty-six Elemental Nodes, then choose noblewomen with weaker bloodlines to produce outstanding heirs before attempting to charge the Elemental Sea. This was why Roland had said she had never met her grandmother or grandfather. Her grandfather died failing to charge the Elemental Sea, and her grandmother’s life was shortened by bearing a powerful descendant, leaving her with a lifespan shorter than even a commoner.

Catherine was an exception. If she had given birth to the royal heir Edward during her time as an apprentice knight, her own path as a Knight would have been cut off. Only a female knight could bear the Bloodline of a Gold Knight without sacrificing her own future.

But this was against the rules.

According to Victor’s self-created theory of the Mind and Bloodline, the stronger a person’s procreative ability, the weaker their Mind’s Dominator. Not weak, to be precise, but dormant. Even if their physical world faced danger, it would be difficult to awaken the Mind’s Dominator.

They already have so many children, so if they die, they die.

Victor remembered seeing a very old movie about societal elites who were too busy with their careers and research to have children, missing their prime childbearing years, while fools with nothing to do all day had a bunch of kids, resulting in humanity becoming progressively dumber.

This was, of course, a tasteless joke. But the descendants of high-ranked knights were indeed very rare. If a high-ranked knight’s Bloodline could severely harm the mother, what would her Mind’s Dominator do?

It would most likely strangle the high-ranked knight’s Bloodline, develop its own, and do its best to preserve itself. Otherwise, if the mother died, the child wouldn’t survive either.

That was why ordinary women couldn’t bear the offspring of a Gold Knight. Female apprentice knights, on the other hand, were relatively strong, could circulate their Aura, and resonate with eleven Elemental Nodes. Out of procreative instinct, they would strive to gestate a Gold Knight’s heir, but their own weaker Bloodline would be consumed by the Gold Knight’s stronger one. In the end, they would give birth to an offspring with a single Bloodline, and their own bodies would inevitably be damaged.

A female knight’s mind and bloodline were far stronger than a female apprentice knight’s. Her own bloodline would be fighting on home turf, holding every advantage. While preserving both mother and fetus, the offspring she bore with a high-ranked Knight would have a mixed Bloodline. When a Silver Knight and a Silver Knight couple, neither can overwhelm the other, and their offspring still has a mixed Bloodline. However, because both parents’ bloodlines are strong, most of these children can advance to Silver-rank. For the offspring of a Gold Knight and a Gold Knight, a mixed Bloodline doesn’t matter, as they have a high probability of advancing to Gold-rank anyway.

For Catherine, an experienced female knight, to have given birth to Edward, it was no wonder the Four Great Princely families had so strongly opposed Edward’s succession to the throne.

The problem was, Edward’s talents and personality were very similar to his sister’s, which indicated he had inherited the pure bloodline of the Auguste family.

Could an experienced female knight and a Gold Knight producing a single-bloodline offspring be a coincidence?

As a lord, Victor was already accustomed to considering coincidences as inevitable events—a habit commonly known as being overly suspicious.

Stroking Catherine’s love letter, Victor felt more and more that something was amiss.

His first love letter had come from a high-ranking female knight. High-ranked knights were all strong-willed, proud people. Victor was often teased by high-ranking female knights, but it was only ever teasing. If they really wanted something to happen with him, they would be direct and pin him down, just like Gillian.

Writing a love letter… Hah, it’s more like you should be writing one to me.

However, Catherine’s posture before Victor was extremely humble. Victor could sense her vulnerability and passion. The most damnable part was that he himself was attracted to her; the two of them together were like dry tinder and a burning flame, igniting at the slightest touch.

Victor calmly analyzed his intense possessiveness towards Catherine. Her beauty, which couldn’t compare to Sylvia’s, accounted for only a ten-percent share; the vanity of conquering his former mistress accounted for twenty percent; her being the little Baron’s first woman was ten percent; Catherine’s pliant personality was another ten percent. The remaining fifty percent was inexplicable, attributable only to instinctual attraction.

Where did such a strong instinctual attraction come from?

Connecting the dots between the little Baron’s mother dying young, the mysterious Wizard at the Blue Amber Inn, Catherine’s night of abandon with the little Baron, and his own withering human bloodline, a wave of panic washed over Victor.

Could it be that Catherine and I were both tampered with by a Wizard… just like how Catherine bore Edward for Ryan?

In that instant, through personal conviction, Victor understood many things.

Sylvia was initially unwilling to inform me about the situation in Wildwillow City because she was afraid I would object, putting her in a difficult position. She wanted to present it as a fait accompli. But with Earl Chepman playing the spoiler, I went straight to Rose Manor, and for this “small matter,” she gave me a share of the Minting Rights. If I had known nothing and Judy had been pushed out, Sylvia wouldn’t have been able to help even if she wanted to. Catherine exchanging love letters with me and happening to learn of this matter, then helping me secure a share of the new market’s shops, no matter how small, would have made my relationship with Aerie Fortress even closer. Now that I have the York family’s Minting Rights, whether I have those shops or not is irrelevant… The Auguste family is trying to drive a wedge between me and Sylvia, and Sylvia saw through it… Why didn’t Sylvia tell me? How does the Auguste family dare to do this? There’s only one possibility: they are confident they can turn me into a Sun Elf. Sylvia doesn’t dare offend them, so she can only endure it.

Heh, once you reach Gold-rank, your strength really is different. Even your brain gets smarter… A pity. With my secret art of the Mind and Bloodline, I have a chance to become a Sun Elf on my own. That’s just one trump card… My fate is for me to decide. No one can control my will!

My darling Sylvia promised to give me a share of the Minting Rights, so what benefit can I squeeze out of the Auguste family? Hmm, that Wizard is very formidable. Even the Pontiff couldn’t detect any Wizardry on me… No, wait. The old charlatan said nothing, only that my human bloodline was withering. That means it isn’t Wizardry… If it’s not Wizardry, that’s easier to handle. The Wizard of Aerie Fortress is very knowledgeable about bloodlines. His knowledge can help me perfect the secret art of the Mind and Bloodline! I have to find a way to get his knowledge… Seizing the initiative is the most crucial part. First, I need to ask the old charlatan to help me resolve the hidden danger in my bloodline.

Victor wished he could return to the Randell Fief immediately to find Miller, and then find a way to plot for the Auguste family’s bloodline secret art.

The carriage slowed down. Gru, the captain of the personal guard, knocked on the carriage wall and said, “My lord, the lord of Pine Forest Town is ahead with his men to welcome us.”

Shirley tried hard to open her eyes, but her little head swayed back and forth. The sight of her struggling to wake up was utterly adorable.

Victor picked up the little girl, planted a kiss on her pretty cheek, laid her down flat on the mat, covered her with a thin blanket, and whispered, “Go to sleep.”

Shirley immediately closed her eyes and drifted into dreamland.

Chapter 482: The Trait of Attraction

Lord Dayton, the lord of Pine Forest Town, led Victor into the castle’s study. Here, Victor met Gillian’s father—Earl Chapman.

Lord Dayton bowed to his liege lord, then turned and left the study, closing the door behind him to allow the two men to speak privately.

Victor and Earl Chapman exchanged pleasantries before sitting down. He glanced at the study’s simple furnishings and the three Greensage candles casting a dim, yellow light, then said with a smile, “Lord Dayton is truly frugal, lighting only three candles for his own liege lord.”

“Mm… Frugality is a precious virtue.” Earl Chapman nodded with a serious expression, then added, “These three candles were prepared by Dayton for Your Excellency. If I were inspecting Pine Forest Town alone, he wouldn’t light a single one for me.”

“…” Victor fell silent for a moment before getting straight to the point. “This is a private meeting, with no records and no witnesses. We can speak freely, without holding anything back.”

“I agree.”

Victor stopped dwelling on the matter of his being worth only three candles and asked Earl Chapman, “You had Gillian inform me about the situation in Wildwillow City. What does the Chapman family want from me?”

Earl Chapman seemed to have prepared for this. He nodded and said, “On the first day of the first month of this year’s Season of Earth, the old Marquess Sorim left Copper City with two attendants. He gave too much to House Sorim and thought too little of himself. He will never have the chance to return. Of course, according to the tradition of a Knight’s life-and-death trial, the Church and the King will wait another five years before announcing the Annihilation of the kingdom’s High-ranked Knight, the Marquess of House Sorim, Bern Sorim.”

“Copper City will have a new master.” Earl Chapman leaned back against the hard pine chair and said with a smile, “If you trace back the bloodlines of the southern noble families, they all lead back to Sorim. According to the bloodline succession rights of the Radiant Code, every Sorim can legally possess Copper City. As for his surname, that’s irrelevant… It could be Sorim, it could be Briatte, or it could be Chapman.”

“As Your Excellency can surely see, ever since the Sorim bloodline began to decline, the southern noble families have all wanted to cultivate their own. Our Chapman family has been the most successful.”

The Chapman family has four Great Knights, possibly even five… The Earl and his wife’s eldest daughter is a Silver Knight, and their youngest son also has the potential to reach the Silver-rank.

Victor indicated his agreement, saying, “The Chapman family is also the strongest.”

Earl Chapman gave a reserved nod of acknowledgement, saying with a hint of pride, “Chapman’s success today is due not only to luck, but also to the virtue of frugality.”

“…” Victor glanced around, spread his hands, and changed the subject. “What does Your Excellency plan to do?”

“We want to take direct control of Copper City.” Earl Chapman paused, then said, “Aerie Fortress, the elder families of Gambis, and the Church have all shown goodwill towards Chapman, but we need the recognition of the southern noble families even more. To represent the southern lords, Chapman must make a stand on the issue of Wildwillow City.”

“Aerie Fortress, the Yorks, Wellington, Joshua, and Nim are redividing the shares of shops in Wildwillow City. Why exclude Chapman? Even if the Chapmans are not yet the leaders of the southern noble families, that’s no reason to strip Copper City of its influence in the Wildwillow City market.”

“The Wildwillow City market was developed by Your Excellency, and Lady Judy is your representative. Since the House of Randell has also been excluded, can we not join forces and make our voices heard?” Earl Chapman gestured with his hand and smiled. “This was my initial reason for having Gillian sound out Your Excellency… Of course, my daughter, she is not aware of this.”

I know she isn’t, Victor grumbled to himself. He shook his head and smiled. “What can a minor viscount like myself do? And what reason do I have to make my voice heard?”

Earl Chapman watched Victor quietly for a few seconds, then said in a calm tone, “The matter of minting Copper Sols is generally entrusted to the King by the Church. The reason House Sorim took over the minting of Copper Sols was certainly to win the Church’s support, but the main reason was the abundance of copper in the south. Otherwise, why would Aerie Fortress have agreed to let House Sorim mint Copper Sols?”

A glint flashed in Victor’s eyes. He asked in a low voice, “Was it also Aerie Fortress’s idea for you to commission the House of Randell to mint Copper Sols?”

Earl Chapman nodded. “Minting five million Copper Sols a year results in a loss of no more than one million Copper Sols, worth 772 Gold Sols. The Chapman family can afford that much. Besides, the price of copper continues to rise, and the Copper Sol is also appreciating in value. The losses from minting will only get smaller. Aerie Fortress supports the Chapman family’s bid for Copper City, but they don’t want us getting too close to the Church. However, His Highness the Regent has required me to entrust the minting rights for the Copper Sol to the House of Randell.”

“Your Excellency wants to mint Copper Sols, and Aerie Fortress is obliging you, but His Highness Williams wants to do it through the Chapman family. Your Excellency should understand the reason for this.”

The reason, of course, was for Aerie Fortress to both bribe and restrain Victor. If Williams had given the minting rights directly to the House of Randell, Victor would have assumed it was a favor from Sylvia. As it was now, Victor had Earl Chapman to thank. Through this method, Aerie Fortress was declaring a fact that wasn’t true—that the House of Randell was an independent lord of Gambis who swore fealty to the King. The truth was that the independent lords of Gambis all had their own factions, and the House of Randell was clearly an important member of the Centaur Hills bloc.

However, since it was a commissioned minting, Aerie Fortress could also retract the commission, creating a leash. For example, if they raised the annual minting quota from five million to twenty million, the House of Randell wouldn’t be able to bear the losses from minting Copper Sols and would have no choice but to give up minting coins.

Victor possessed the fire-crystal furnace technology. For every ten million Copper Sols minted, he could produce an additional one million seven hundred thousand Copper Sols, equivalent to one thousand three hundred and eleven Gold Sols. Combined with the minting profits from currency appreciation, the direct profit from minting ten million Copper Sols was at least two thousand Gold Sols.

The more he minted, the more he earned.

The question was, how could Aerie Fortress possibly know the true secret behind Victor’s minting of Copper Sols?

Victor raised an eyebrow and said with a faint smile, “Minting Copper Sols is a money-losing business. It’s not as if I absolutely must do it.”

“That is not the attitude of a ‘speak freely’ conversation.”

Earl Chapman shook his head, his narrow eyes holding a cunning smile. “Lord Randell is known for his wisdom. Your every move is watched. Regardless of whether people understand your profound intentions now, it is never wrong to make arrangements in advance.” At this, Earl Chapman shook his head again. “At first, I couldn’t understand your reasons for minting Copper Pennies and Copper Sols… With a population of one hundred thousand in the Randell Fief, how much could you possibly collect by imposing a transaction tax on refugee worker families? Perhaps not even enough to cover the losses from minting… It wasn’t until Your Excellency clearly proposed the tenant system that everyone finally saw your scheme.”

Earl Chapman slapped the table in admiration. “The tenant system is a brilliant idea! Refugee families don’t pay tribute to the lord, but the liege’s subjects’ families do. Tenant households are not subjects, nor are they considered refugees. You’ve perfectly solved the problem of their tribute with Copper Pennies and a transaction tax. With the tenant system, the Centaur Hills can accommodate more refugees and fill the labor shortage. If the Randell Fief had three hundred thousand tenant households, the transaction tax they’d pay would be quite substantial.”

Earl Chapman made no effort to hide his astonishment and envy. Victor felt a secret sense of pride. He shook his head and said with a smile, “The tenant system has two primary functions: one is to convert refugees, and the other is to reclaim power from one’s lord vassals. The prerequisites for implementing the tenant system are land and a refugee population. Unfortunately, you lack these conditions. Of course, the Centaur Hills had no choice either… If we had enough of our own subjects, who would be willing to train refugees?”

“There will be land, and the refugee population will only grow larger.”

Earl Chapman nodded, then changed the subject. “From these matters, I can see two things. First, Your Excellency’s influence on Aerie Fortress is considerable. Second, you are in dire need of money. If Your Excellency were to publicly oppose the shop allocation plan in Wildwillow City, Chapman would be the first family to stand up and support you.”

Victor looked deeply at Chapman and shook his head. “Impossible… And Your Excellency has not been entirely honest with me.”

“I just returned from Wildwillow City… The city is more prosperous than ever now, and its market district is worth its weight in gold. And the reason for this is the Fishman War!”

“The soldiers and supplies of Aerie Fortress, Joshua, Wellington, and the Nim family all need a place to stop on their way south. The soldiers also need a place to relax during their rotations, and that place is Wildwillow City. But Chapman and Randell do not have this need. If I were to stand up and oppose the shop allocation plan for the Wildwillow City market, I would lack a reasonable basis. Compared to the benefits in Wildwillow City, you and I are even less willing to accept the permanent stationing of other families’ armies in the Chapman territory or the Randell Fief. By the same token, the southern lords also fear having the knights and armies of other powers lingering in their territories for long.”

“The Fishman War and the expansion south of the river are the grand tide of the kingdom’s affairs. Bryat’s fief has convenient transport links, and Wildwillow City is close to two ports. It is the best trade hub and transfer point for personnel and materiel. The great families’ arrangements in the Wildwillow City market are intended to ensure the Briatte family’s neutral stance.” Victor shook his head and said, “Anyone who opposes this plan is doomed to fail. But Chapman wants to be the leader of the southern families, so you must put on a show for the blood-kin families… Regardless of the outcome, doing something is better than doing nothing.”

“I am not a southern bloodline lord, and no one would dare station troops in the Randell Fief.” Victor said with a mirthless smile, “So what is the meaning of Lord Chapman encouraging me to come forward and oppose the shop allocation plan for the Wildwillow City market?”

Earl Chapman thought for a moment, then nodded and said, “I admit it. I want to borrow Your Excellency’s influence to convey the southern families’ attitude to Aerie Fortress—that they should not take from us as they please.”

Is… is this a pledge of loyalty? The southern lords want to follow my lead?

Victor was taken aback. He asked tentatively, “What influence could I have? Are you sure you don’t mean to borrow the York family’s influence?”

“The York family is also involved in this matter… they would never support me.” Earl Chapman shook his head and observed Victor with a meaningful gaze. “As for what happens in the future, who knows?” He then shrugged and said, “In any case, there’s no harm in making a little noise behind Your Excellency for now.”

What an old fox… Victor didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He cursed inwardly before saying aloud, “Rather than making a couple of meaningless noises, we might as well do something constructive.”

“Since Chapman doesn’t have a large enough share of the market in Wildwillow City, why not just build your own?”

Earl Chapman looked up, surprised. “In Pine Forest Town?”

“Correct!” Victor nodded. “The Royal Family went to great trouble to crack that tough nut Sorim. How could they possibly allow Chapman to grow powerful? The kingdom’s suppression of the southern bloodline lords is inevitable. But one step back leads to another, and another, until in the end, you’re just a disorderly mob. If I’m not mistaken, Aerie Fortress is currently draining the wealth that Copper City has accumulated over centuries.”

Earl Chapman said with a blank expression, “Many of Sorim’s apprentice knights have moved to the Royal Capital… and they took their assets with them.”

House Sorim had at least six hundred apprentice knights who had refined their bloodlines. Now that the Royal Family had the formula for the Gold Potion, they would naturally not let this potential force go. Sylvia, however, showed sufficient rationality. What the York family needed most right now was to build a solid foundation; they would rather develop slowly than expand too quickly. The House of Randell had even less ability to control Sorim’s apprentice knights; those men would surely stick together. But to Earl Chapman, Aerie Fortress digging out Copper City’s apprentice knights was like carving out his own flesh, causing him great pain.

Victor nodded in sympathy and said, “What they won’t give you, you build for yourself. There is no better response than that. It won’t be until Primo turns twelve that things will change in Wildwillow City. There are still more than three years. I am fully confident that I can develop the market in Pine Forest Town…”

Earl Chapman let out a soft laugh and held up a hand, cutting Victor off. “If this is the purpose of your invitation to meet… then I agree.”

“Don’t be surprised.”

Earl Chapman stood up and said, “We have common interests, and we each have leverage over the other. I can see your ambition… but I must still offer a piece of advice. The population of the Randell Fief is growing. That Mithril mine should be sealed. If Her Highness Sylvia finds out, you and I will be in great trouble.”

“Perhaps one day in the future, we southern lords will swear fealty to Your Excellency, Lord Randell.” He gave Victor a Knight’s salute and said politely, “I hope Your Excellency has a good night’s sleep in Pine Forest Castle. I shall take my leave.”

Watching Earl Chapman push open the wooden door, Victor couldn’t help but call out, “My lord Chapman, I don’t care who the southern lords swear fealty to in the future… I just want to remind you, Gillian is my… Don’t force her to do things she’s unwilling to do. I will only respect her own will!”

Earl Chapman froze for a second, then burst out laughing as he walked out the door. “Victor, I won’t meddle in your affairs with Gillian either.”

In the study of Pine Forest Castle, moths fluttered around the candle flames. Victor sat alone for a long time, then with a flick of his finger, sent a puff of air to extinguish the three irritating flames. Leaning back in his chair, he let out a long sigh. “I’m not ready… and now everything is happening at once…”

“Not a single one of them is easy to deal with!”

Chapter 483: Baffling

Earl Chepman’s words corroborated the information Victor possessed. They were logically connected and should all be true.

A pyramid is the most stable political structure for a kingdom, and its most direct expression is the clear distinction between insiders and outsiders. The York family and House Sorim had chosen to swear fealty to the Kingdom of Gambia, yet they were consistently suppressed by Auguste. The difference was that the York family’s territory had no natural defenses, so they chose to lie low and strive to integrate into the Kingdom of Gambia. House Sorim’s territory, on the other hand, was encircled by mountains, easy to defend and difficult to attack, so they chose to resist the kingdom’s central authority.

Neither the York family’s submission nor Sorim’s resistance could solve the fundamental problem.

It was like a chieftain distributing fruit. If everyone received an equal share, it might seem to please everyone, but in reality, it would be as if the chieftain didn’t exist at all. To treat everyone with an even hand was to lose the authority to distribute benefits; there was no stupider method of leadership.

Gambia’s land and resources were finite, as were the number of minor nobles with outstanding Bloodlines. If Auguste treated all the lords of the kingdom equally, what would his three follower families—Wellington, Joshua, and Nim—think? When these three families saw the miserable state of the Yorks and Sorims, they would not only feel schadenfreude but also a quiet sense of relief and alertness. This would make them revere the authority of the Royal Family even more, and they would continue to suppress the York and Sorim families to avoid being replaced by these two competitors. Thus, the conflict between the Yorks, the Sorims, and the Royal Family was shifted onto the three follower families. The political structure of the Kingdom of Gambia became incredibly stable.

Whether in the workplace or the political arena, when models and exemplars are established, there are always some who are trampled underfoot. No amount of fawning, honest obedience, or aggressive striving could change their position. To get ahead, one could only rely on ability and wisdom.

Sorim isolated itself and was ostracized by everyone, eventually being dismantled from within by Aerie Fortress. The York family managed to get ahead because the family had produced a Spirit Knight.

Now, House Sorim had collapsed, and the York family had become the second-largest family in Gambia. Aerie Fortress looked out over the entire Kingdom of Gambia and wondered, Who should we trample on now?

No one needed to be trampled. In a state of external war, the established political balance was bound to be broken. The great lord families would be ranked according to their strength, and the old political machinations would become meaningless. This was true for the Fishman War, and even more so for the pioneer war. Power within the kingdom would shift toward whoever had the strength to seize the most land and resources. The political landscape of the Kingdom of Gambia, and even the Gambis Empire, was facing a reshuffle.

Earl Chepman despaired because of this. He had mentioned the tenant system and the transaction tax.

Aerie Fortress had spent hundreds of years dismantling the Southern Lords’ political faction. But Copper City, the political and economic center of the kingdom’s south, was too far from the kingdom’s core. If Aerie Fortress took direct control of Copper City, it would violate the rules of the feudal system and the Church’s bloodline succession rights. Not only would this be met with joint resistance from the lords and the Church, but it would also cause a strong backlash from the southern bloodline lords. Even if Aerie Fortress could suppress all dissenting voices, a new political bloc of lords would eventually form in the south over time.

Rather than dispersing its political power to cultivate a new great lord, Aerie Fortress found it better to support the Chepman family through a marriage alliance, allowing them to control the situation in the south. The Chepman family, wanting to ascend to the ranks of first-rate great families, could not do without Aerie Fortress’s support. They lacked the power to resist Aerie Fortress’s carving up of the wealth House Sorim had accumulated over centuries. Instead, they had to follow Aerie Fortress’s lead closely, a situation that would not change for at least several decades.

Victor’s refinement of the tenant system changed everything.

Aerie Fortress had over a thousand apprentice knights who had refined their Bloodlines, and how to settle them had always been a headache. While Aerie Fortress used Gold Potions to increase their strength, the burden of settling them grew even heavier. The tenant system perfectly solved this problem. The apprentice knights of the Swift Dragons and the Glory Knights would become vassal lords of Aerie Fortress. They would serve in the army and normally reside in the Royal Capital. Their lordship fiefs would be managed by their superior vassal lords and rented out to tenant households, with the fief’s income serving as their stipend. The Royal Family not only strengthened its control over the fiefs and maintained a powerful military force long-term, but it could also effectively alleviate financial pressure and the problem of settlement.

House Sorim’s six hundred-plus apprentice knights immediately became valuable assets to be won over. From Aerie Fortress’s perspective, absorbing these apprentice knights would strengthen the Royal Family’s power, giving them an initial military advantage in the future war to expand south.

The Chepman family did not know about the existence of the Gold Potion, but if Aerie Fortress could implement the tenant system, so could they. The problem was, with Aerie Fortress having poached all the apprentice knights from Copper City, what would the Chepman family use to pioneer the Southern Continent?

Aerie Fortress and the four Grand Dukes divided the market share of Wildwillow City, yet the Chepman family was excluded. On the surface, this was a small matter, but it sent a very clear political signal to the apprentice knights of Copper City: the Chepman family was still a second-rate family.

With an opportunity to join the Royal Capital’s Imperial Guard and carve out new territories in the Southern Continent, who would be willing to swear fealty to a second-rate family?

Earl Chepman’s heart was like dead ash.

The issue was no longer about the wealth and apprentice knights of Copper City, but the possibility that the Southern bloodline lords’ faction could disintegrate, with lords great and small each seeking their own way out. If that happened, the Chepman family really would be confined to being a second-rate family.

Of course, the Chepmans would not sit idly by and wait for their doom. They soon discovered a detail. Victor’s tenant system was designed to settle refugees in the Centaur Hills. The York family had land and titles and had already begun to trial the tenant system and transaction tax, yet Sylvia showed no reaction to Aerie Fortress absorbing the apprentice knights from Copper City.

As the royal family of Gambia, Auguste held the claim of legitimacy. However, the York family had a Spirit Knight in their corner and were also the Queen’s family. The difference was that the York family lacked a complete system of court nobles and fiefs. If they were to bring in a large number of apprentice knights from Copper City, they could only disperse them among their various vassals, which would disrupt their hierarchical family political structure and be detrimental to the family’s long-term development.

The root cause was still the Bloodline.

A Spirit Knight’s status was comparable to the Pope’s; they were noble and powerful, but their political influence was limited. This was because Spirit Knights could not have children.

The knight’s bloodline was the political foundation of the kingdom.

Earl Chepman had found his breakthrough. Now, the influence in the Wildwillow City market, the wealth of Copper City, and the apprentice knights were no longer important; stabilizing the southern lord families was the key. By shouting his support after Victor, he could give the southern bloodline lords hope: Why must we live under someone else’s roof and be trampled upon? If we follow the noble Lord Randall, we’ll surely have a place in the future Gambis Empire!

When Chepman learned from his darling daughter that Victor had awakened the Surge talent, he was ecstatic. He expressed to Victor: any form of cooperation was acceptable. They no longer wanted the Mithril. The Chepmans had no intention of holding His Excellency hostage, nor did they have the political ambition to surpass Auguste and the Yorks. They would not make things difficult for His Excellency; everything would be done according to His Excellency’s wishes.

To say that the Chepman family would henceforth follow the Randall family’s lead would be far too naive. But the scheming and maneuvering of Auguste, the Yorks, and the Chepmans made Victor clearly realize just how great his own potential influence was!

The Wind Whisper Moon Elves were themselves royalty among the Elves. Their extraordinary power surpassed that of ordinary Gold Knights, reaching the level of Legendary Knights—and the most difficult kind to deal with at that. All Victor had to do now was practice the Silver Moon Mystic Form, and he would soon master the Wind Whisper talent, sublimate it into a Gold Bloodline, and immediately ascend to the pinnacle of power. Although he wouldn’t have the title of King, a Legendary-rank Guardian with a Gold Bloodline was no different from an Empire’s Emperor. His blood-kin descendants would surely wear the crown.

Compared to this honor and power, X-3 and the pitiful foundation of the Randell Fief were nothing!

Yet, faced with this power that was within his grasp, Victor was simply not happy. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why, but he just felt displeased, uncomfortable, and ill at ease. His heart felt heavy, as if he were being crushed by some invisible force, leaving him so stifled he could barely breathe.

I don’t want to become one of the Other races? The Surge is irreversible. The way I look now, what’s the difference between me and an elf… Do I still yearn for the Path of the Sun Elf? The Wind Whisper Moon Elf is a prerequisite for the Sun Elf; without achieving the Wind Whisper talent, how can I advance to Sun Elf… Am I afraid of being controlled by the Elves’ Ancestral God? That’s just baseless paranoia… Am I worried about losing the Alchemy Tower in the Randell Fief? It’s soul-bound, who could possibly take it? And the Alchemy Tower isn’t a Wizard. If I become the Protector of the Kingdom, revealing the tower’s secrets would actually be a good thing… What wire is crossed in my brain? Forget it, forget it, there must be something wrong with my head… I’ll finish the task that old charlatan gave me first, then ask him to take a look at me. Maybe my withering human bloodline is driving me mad!

Victor shook his head, cast his gaze toward a camp up ahead, and spurred his Swiftbird on, quickening his pace toward it.

The camp guards saw a squad of Swiftbird light cavalry approaching and quickly notified the camp’s steward. In a short while, Logen, the War Bear veteran in charge of the camp, came out with his men to greet them.

“My lord, good day.” Logen touched his iron-hooked right hand to the ground, performing a one-knee kneel for his lord.

“Rise,” Victor said, dismounting from his Swiftbird. He turned and ordered, “It’s too hot. Give the Swiftbirds some clean water and find a shady place to settle them.”

Logen waved his hand, and the camp guards led the personal guard and the Swiftbirds into the camp. Following behind Victor, Logen glanced at the young attendants clad in leather armor, short swords at their waists, their faces full of vigilance, and chuckled to himself.

Dressing like that in this heat, aren’t they afraid of heatstroke… What is there to worry about in our own camp? If there were really assassins, My lord would have to look after you little ones.

These little attendants were nobles, so Logen only mocked them in his heart and wouldn’t say it aloud. He shooed away a few tail-wagging sentinel hounds and asked with downcast eyes, “My lord, what are your orders?”

“I’m here to find someone… and to inspect the refugee camp while I’m at it.” Victor pulled up his hood, concealing his handsome face, and strode into the camp.

The Refugee Reception Camp was a checkpoint for the Randall family to process refugees. The camp was divided into ten living and residential areas. Refugees seeking to make a life in the Randell Fief had to stay in a designated area for ten full days. During these ten days, they had to attend to their personal hygiene, wash their clothes, get rid of any parasites, have their health checked by attendants from the Randell Fief’s Church, and then report their origins, family ties, and skills. They also had to learn the rules for hired workers in the Randell Fief. After confirming they had no infectious diseases, the camp guards would break up the refugee groups according to their family connections, and only then could the aides from each village lead them away. Then, a new batch of refugees would be brought in.

To cater to Viscount Randell’s preferences, the refugee shelter was clean and tidy, orderly and well-maintained. There was no trash or sewage to be seen on the ground, flowers and trees were planted along the roads, the refugees’ pit-dug shanties were neatly arranged, and even the laundry was hung out to dry in designated areas.

“Something’s not right…” Little Brandon gripped his scabbard, looking around vigilantly. “It’s exceptionally quiet. I don’t see anyone, and I can’t smell the stench of the lower-class people!”

The other little attendants instantly grew tense and excited. Only little Klaus remained composed. He gripped the hilt of his sword, glanced around, and said, “Don’t be nervous. This is normal.”

“What’s normal about it?” little Brandon retorted, unconvinced.

“It’s exceptionally quiet because loud noise is forbidden in the reception camp; you can’t see anyone because people aren’t allowed to wander around freely, and it’s hot now, so the refugees should be in their pit shanties escaping the heat; you can’t smell any stench because the refugees have to wash their hair and bathe with soap and change their clothes every day.”

“You… how do you know all that?”

Klaus gripped his sword hilt tightly, continuing to observe his surroundings as he said, “Before we came, I asked My Lady Lilia about the rules of the reception camp.”

Victor stopped and looked at Klaus. “Then why are you still holding your sword?”

“Brandon raised the alarm, so I should draw my sword,” Klaus replied, tilting his head up.

“What else do you know?” Victor asked, deliberately testing Klaus.

“This camp has thirty-three soldiers, seventeen handymen, one beacon tower, and is equipped with three carriages, ten fast horses, and ten messenger Ash Falcons. There is an outpost five kilometers southeast of the camp, permanently staffed by ten soldiers. The patrol team makes a fixed round trip eight times a day: twice in the morning, twice in the afternoon, twice in the early night, and twice in the late night. Every morning, the Aide from Laketon comes to the camp with three carriages to collect refugees and drop off supplies. Every evening, new refugees move into the camp.” Little Klaus’s gaze shifted to the left, and he lifted his chin, saying, “At this time, residential area number seven should be empty.”

Logen quietly gave Gru, the Captain of the Personal Guard, a thumbs-up with his left hand. Victor patted Klaus’s little head and said with a smile of appreciation, “Thoroughly prepared. Excellent!”

“Brandon is not bad either, very alert.” Victor also patted Brandon’s head and said, “If you two cooperate well, you can become my capable generals in the future.”

Brandon and Klaus glanced at each other, then simultaneously turned their heads away.

Victor shook his head and chuckled. These two little ones couldn’t stand the sight of each other and loved to compete whenever they were together.

“Let’s go, to the camp office.”

Logen led Victor into a small green brick building in the center of the camp. Victor sat down in the host’s seat in the living room. Shirley and two other little handmaidens lit a small portable bronze stove and began to boil water to brew Snow Ear Tea. The other young, sword-bearing attendants dispersed to the corners of the living room.

Victor paid them no mind and asked Logen, “I heard there’s a refugee couple who have been living in the camp for a year?”

“Yes,” Logen said with a bow. “The man is named Carson, his wife is Laura, and they have a son who bears the original sin. He is four years old this year.”

“Bring them all here.”

Logen nodded and turned to leave the living room. Before long, he returned with three people and brought them before Victor.

“Kneel… You’re all incredibly lucky to be able to see Lord Viscount Randell,” Logen barked at them.

The family of three hastily dropped to their knees, so terrified they didn’t dare to even lift their heads. The man looked to be in his thirties, in the prime of his life. He had an ordinary face but a sturdy, muscular build, with thick bones. He appeared strong and powerful, and the thick calluses on his hands and palms were marks left by the frequent use of close-combat weapons. His eyebrows were set close to his brow bone, and his eyes were deep-set, hiding a fierce glint. He was a ruthless character who had seen bloodshed. His wife was buxom with fair skin and a pretty face, possessing some charm among the refugee women, but her face was pale, her lips bloodless, and her brows furrowed with worry. Their son resembled his mother, but his mouth was twisted, his limbs contorted. His father held him趴 on the floor as he giggled foolishly. This was an idiot who didn’t even know how to kneel.

Victor frowned slightly and said faintly, “Don’t be nervous… Father Miller let you live here, so you can continue to live here. You may go.”

The couple’s faces lit up with surprise. They picked up their foolish son and backed out of the living room with bowed waists.

Victor fell into deep thought and only snapped out of it when Shirley presented him with a fragrant cup of Snow Ear Tea. He asked Logen, “What’s their story?”

“Carson used to be a mercenary, the leader of a group of refugees. A year ago, he brought his group here, trying to make a living in the Randell Fief. I found out his son bears the original sin, so how could I let him in? I told him, either leave that sinner at the poorhouse of the Wildwillow City Church, or they could all get lost… The fellow begged and pleaded, saying the poorhouse in Wildwillow City wouldn’t take him… What a joke. If the Wildwillow City Church poorhouse won’t take him, it’s not like our Laketon Church has a poorhouse… People who bear the original sin should be thrown into the mountains to fend for themselves!”

At this point, the old mercenary smacked his lips and sighed, shaking his head. “That group of refugees saw that things were good here and insisted on staying. Carson had two other women and the healthy children go with other people. He and his wife were preparing to go back the way they came with their idiot son when they happened to run into Esteemed master Father Miller. The Esteemed master pitied them and told me that without their group, Carson and his wife wouldn’t be able to survive with an idiot son… If Carson went out to work alone, his pretty wife would be coveted by others. If he stayed to guard his wife and child, the family would have no food. If you ask me, why not just get rid of the idiot son? But how could I dare say that to the Esteemed master… The Esteemed master told me to let them stay, so I had no choice… Carson’s carpentry skills are not bad, and he’s strong enough. The couple works as handymen in the camp. They don’t take wages, just food. They’ve been here like this for a year.”

Victor picked up the silver teacup, took a sip of Snow Ear Tea, and asked, “How did they get in in the first place?”

“They gave the child medicine to make him sleep. He looked like a normal person.” Logen raised his iron hook to scratch his hair and said sullenly, “I got into a huge fight with my corporal son at the border outpost over this. I slapped him hard a few times… Now, anyone who’s sleeping must be woken up. My lord, you can rest assured, I guarantee no one bearing the original sin will ever slip into the Randell Fief again.”

Victor nodded and asked again, “The couple hasn’t had any more children, have they?”

“How can the parents of a child with original sin have more children?”

The old mercenary’s face turned fierce as he said, “I’ve already made it very clear to them. If they dare to violate the Church tenets, I’ll bury them myself!”

“His wife takes medicine every month… there won’t be any more children.”

Bearing the “original sin” referred to idiots, the mentally deficient, and madmen who could not pray. The populace believed that people with original sin would pass it on to the next generation. The Church’s priests demanded that those with original sin not marry or have children, and forbade parents of such children from conceiving again. Victor supported this tenet with both hands, stipulating that refugees taken in by the Randell Fief must be of sound mind and body. But with tens of thousands of refugees absorbed into the fief, some were bound to slip through the cracks.

Caligula was one such person who bore the original sin, but when he wasn’t speaking, he looked quite normal and could understand his master’s instructions. Moreover, his original master was a merchant who had established residency by building a house, spending a large sum of money to move into Laketon. He had stimulated the Randell Fief’s economy, so bringing along a foolish servant was of little consequence.

What the Church clergy hated most were Wizards; second to them were those who bore the original sin. They believed those with original sin were beyond salvation and would contaminate the Lord’s lambs. Clergy generally took a tacitly approving stance toward believers who abandoned their children with original sin. Some fanatical clergy would even secretly encourage believers to do so.

Miller took in someone with original sin and even wanted me to come and see… What is that old charlatan up to?

Victor pondered for a moment, then decided to go back and ask Miller for clarification. He stood up and said, “We’re returning to Laketon.”

Chapter 484: Redeeming the Last Vestige of Goodness

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When Victor returned to Laketon, he did not find Father Miller at the construction site of the Randell Church. The church attendant overseeing the project’s progress told the lord that Father Miller was waiting for him at the small chapel in the town’s east district.

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The East District Church was Laketon’s cemetery church, located in a relatively remote area. Around the cemetery, many evergreen cypress trees with ramrod-straight trunks had been transplanted. They stood like silent soldiers, guarding the Laketon cemetery and creating a solemn, tranquil atmosphere. Dressed in a short, white, coarse-flax priest’s robe, Miller stood alone before a new tombstone. His thin, stooped figure looked exceptionally lonely among the rows of graves.

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“Tarno, a vassal soldier of the House of Randell and a Centurion of the mercenary legion, sacrificed in the Fishman War on the riverbank.”

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Victor walked to Miller’s side, looked at the tombstone, and said in a low voice, “Tarno and his grandfather were among my very first followers. The first time he made an impression on me was at my wedding to Lilia… The lad had a secret crush on Lilia and drank half a small cask of Purple Cane wine by himself, getting so drunk he was dead to the world… Later, when the Ant-men attacked the Randall family’s Hill Camp, I ordered my followers to retreat via the ropeway. Tarno’s grandfather couldn’t keep up with the group on the way to Black Fortress Town and disappeared. Tarno became an orphan. Makal of the War Bear Mercenaries adopted him. Both father and son died on the riverbank.”

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Victor glanced at the tombstone next to Tarno’s and sighed, shaking his head. “Lord Narsen wanted to save them at the time, but Makal’s glare told him to get lost… Makal never imagined that just as he had refused Narsen’s aid, Tarno would also refuse his order. Tarno chose to face the thousands of crazed Fishmen alongside his adoptive father, his superior, the captain of the mercenary legion’s Third Battalion. I am grateful to Makal and his son for defending the honor of the House of Randell with their lives, grateful for their loyalty to me, grateful that they colored the mercenary banner with their blood and courage. But I would rather they had been deserters, worn the black bands, and started over… Tarno was only twenty-two. He had just become a father.”

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“May their souls find peace in the Lord’s divine kingdom.”

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Father Miller traced the triangular holy symbol over his chest and said solemnly, “Rich or poor, powerful or weak, wise or foolish, all will have their day of eternal rest. This is the fairness of Life.”

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“The truth,” Victor acknowledged with a nod.

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“What I mean is, the East District cemetery is a bit small.”

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Father Miller turned his face to stare into Victor’s eyes, his expression serious. “Tarno’s son will become your soldier too… and many more mercenary soldiers will serve you, won’t they?”

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Victor nodded. “Not everyone is worthy of being buried in this cemetery… This place is for my very first followers. Of course, Laketon will become Lake City, and every one of the House of Randell’s valiant soldiers, diligent farmers, and skillful craftsmen will have their own place of eternal rest. This is a lord’s responsibility, and I promise I will see it done.”

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“Come, let’s go discuss our difficult problem.”

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The old priest remained noncommittal about Victor’s words, leading him toward the cemetery church.

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The cemetery church was not a church in the true sense of the word, but a private chapel for the lord’s family. Only when a family member was being buried would the resident priest dispatch a novice priest to preside over the funeral and prayers and accept offerings from the deceased’s family. Normally, the cemetery church was managed by the family’s tomb keeper, and the building would not be very large.

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Laketon’s cemetery church was a small, three-story building of green brick. The tomb keeper had been temporarily sent away by Victor’s Personal Guard, leaving the chapel empty. Miller closed the main door, walked to the chair opposite Victor, and sat down. He said with a wide smile, “You’ve met Carson’s family, I trust? I hope you can redeem the family of one who bears original sin.”

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A sense of foreboding instantly rose in Victor’s heart. He slapped his chest in a grand gesture and said, “No problem. I’ll send someone to bring Carson’s family over right away and arrange a job for them… Oh, right, Lilia is planning to open a natural pasture on the west side of the Randell Fief. She happens to need shepherds… The scenery there is beautiful, the air is fresh—it’s very suitable for the Carson family to live there…”

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“Stop, stop, stop.”

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Father Miller cut off Victor’s eloquent speech with a cold laugh. “Do you think a problem I’m facing would be so simple?”

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Victor’s shoulders slumped. “You don’t want me to relax the policy for accepting refugees and allow those with original sin and disabilities into the Randell Fief, do you?”

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The God-favored man remained silent, just looking at the young lord with an expression that screamed, “You guessed it.” Victor seethed inwardly and said coolly, “A priest has no right to interfere with the policies of a secular lord. Your Excellency is exceeding your authority…” After a moment’s thought, he softened his tone. “The diocese in the Randell Fief is still fragile. If I allow disabled refugees into the fief, many such people will flood into Laketon… You know as well as I do that the House of Randell is under enormous financial strain. There are many major projects in the fief that urgently need to be built, and we operate on a system of pay-for-work. Refugee workers must work hard to earn money. It’s not easy for disabled refugees to make a living in the Randell Fief. Relaxing the policy may not be a good thing for them.”

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“Why is it not easy for disabled refugees to make a living in the Randell Fief?”

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Miller answered his own question. “The Randell Fief breaks the refugee bands into refugee worker families and promotes monogamy. If a disabled person appears in a refugee worker family, a healthy person must take care of them. This family loses one laborer and gains two burdens, so life naturally becomes difficult.”

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Victor rubbed his nose and said sheepishly, “Old man, I didn’t think you had such insight.”

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Miller rolled his eyes and said, huffing with irritation, “I’ve dealt with refugees more than anyone. How could I not know how they get by? Every refugee band has a few disabled members, more or less, either from fights with other bands or from birth. When a refugee band arrives in a new place to make a living, they first send the disabled to the Church’s poorhouse. Once they’re settled, they take them back.”

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“Are they never abandoned?” Victor asked curiously.

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“Normally, no… unless the refugee band gets broken up. Then there’s nothing to be done.” Miller shook his head and explained, “A disabled person can receive one portion of relief aid per day. Sometimes, the refugee band has to rely on that aid to temporarily fill their stomachs. Besides, refugees are all believers; they won’t easily violate the Church tenets.”

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“Victor, I’m not trying to interfere with the Randell Fief’s refugee policy,” Miller advised earnestly. “Since you’ve broken up the refugee bands, I hope you’ll consider the refugee worker families. What happens if one of their family members becomes disabled? Will you expel them from the Randell Fief? Without their band, how do you expect them to survive after leaving your fief?”

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“Well… those who are disabled due to war or construction will receive compensation,” Victor said awkwardly. He truly hadn’t thought about these problems in detail.

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“What about those who are accidentally disabled?” The old priest’s eyes burned into Victor’s as he said, spittle flying, “Compensation? Missing a hand or a foot, paralyzed and unable to move—what damned use is compensation? Can it provide for a lifetime?”

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“I understand what you mean,” Victor nodded and said. “I’ll order that the poorhouses in all the villages and farms be built first… As for providing relief to the disabled and weak, that is your duty. The tithe is mainly used for this purpose… The Church can’t expect me to pay to support disabled believers… At worst, I’ll donate a bit more in offerings. That should satisfy you, right?”

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“Not satisfied!”

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Father Miller slammed his hand on the table and said, deeply distressed, “Are you playing blind with me? The poorhouse can provide temporary care, but they have families. They can’t live in the poorhouse. At most, the poorhouse can distribute rations as relief aid. The fundamental problem isn’t solved! Look at the Carson family of three. The couple has to take care of the child, so they can only be counted as one and a half laborers. That child can only receive half a portion of relief aid rations…”

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Victor impatiently cut Miller off, his voice cold. “Since they have family, the family is naturally responsible for their care. As for that child… he is one who bears original sin. I am the lord of the Randell Fief, and I am only responsible for the people of the Randell Fief. I can assist you in improving the poorhouses in the Randell diocese, but I will not allow those with original sin and disabilities to enter the Randell Fief!”

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The old priest stared at Victor and shook his head. “No one is born with original sin!”

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Victor was silent for a moment before speaking. “More than five thousand years ago, the Church confirmed that idiocy, mental deficiency, and madness are all related to Bloodline defects. This defect spreads to the populace through procreation and cannot be redeemed.”

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“It’s not all Bloodline defects!” Miller said with certainty. “A pregnant woman who is frightened, malnourished, accidentally injured, or eats toxic food… all of these can cause mental damage to the infant. Laura’s child has a problem with his brain because she was starving and ate mildly toxic hemp berries to satisfy her hunger.”

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Victor pressed his lips together firmly and shook his head. “But you can’t determine whether each mentally disabled person is the result of a Bloodline defect or an accident. All the priests in the Church combined couldn’t do that… Have you ever thought about it? Once this tenet is transgressed, the future troubles will be endless!”

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“You’re right. I cannot redeem those who bear original sin.” Miller nodded grimly, then looked up and asked, “But do the Carson couple not need redemption either?”

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“According to the Church tenets, the Carson couple cannot have more children. This is their only child, a child who will need their care forever. But they will grow old. When they become too old to work, do you know what they will do?”

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The God-favored man stood up, pointed a trembling finger in the direction of the Refugee Reception Camp, and said sharply, “They will first strangle their own son! Murder their own flesh and blood!”

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“Do you know what that’s called? Killing your kin! The greatest sin in all humanity!”

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Murky tears flowed down the ravines on his face as the God-favored man choked back a pained sob. “Child, can you fathom the despair of one who kills their own kin? I hope you can redeem the last vestige of goodness in humanity. Don’t let them sink into the sin of killing their own.”

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Killing one’s kin. The heavy subject pierced Victor’s chest like a cold, sharp blade, laying his bleeding heart bare. He thought of his own father, his father on Earth, who fell by accident and was paralyzed from the neck down. His cousin’s family saw him as a burden and starved him to death in his bed.

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Victor’s hatred from his past life had long since scattered with the wind, but his father’s last words still echoed in his ears: Live well.

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That exhortation was filled with his father’s attachment to life and his reluctance to leave his beloved son. It had forged Victor’s tenacious and unyielding character, one that never gave up hope even in the face of despair. He had stumbled along this path, encountering countless difficulties and obstacles, but he had overcome them one by one to arrive where he was today.

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“I can understand… I can understand…”

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Victor murmured to himself. He finally, completely understood what Miller meant.

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The Randell Fief was implementing a tenant system, breaking up refugee bands into monogamous worker families. These small families had no power to resist the central authority, and their ability to bear risks was pushed to its absolute limit. If a family member became disabled or mentally deficient, it would be a catastrophic blow to the small family. When the worker family could no longer bear the disaster, the worst outcome was killing their kin.

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If a person would even kill their own blood, what else were they not capable of?

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Every small family is the most basic cell of society. An unhealthy cell might die off on its own, or it could become a tumor that harms the body. If a small family, in order to care for and treat a disabled member, had parents who could not go out to work, took on heavy debt, and even struggled to eat, let alone learn and progress, the family unit would declare its own dissolution, and its impoverished members would flow into society. A family problem would become a social problem. Robbery, theft, murder, arson, and other crimes would arise from it.

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The problem was right there. If the one in power pushed the risk onto the small families, playing deaf and dumb and turning a blind eye, the problem would still be there. It wasn’t about good or evil, right or wrong; it was about the stability of his rule.

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A mature society could not lack a welfare and social security system. The tenant system Victor was implementing was in full swing, but he had not established a social security system to perfect it. Instead, he was borrowing the Radiant Church’s relief aid system.

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The problem was, the Church’s relief system relied on the power of village clans and refugee bands, making it completely incompatible with the tenant system!

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The optimal solution for the tenant system’s social security was to establish welfare institutions to centrally care for the disabled members of worker families, freeing up those families to have the vigor to work and study, helping them improve their standard of living. As the worker families became prosperous, they would pay more taxes and could provide the lord with strong soldiers and clever craftsmen, forming a virtuous cycle.

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The reality was that the Church did not have enough manpower to centrally care for the disabled. They needed the power of a secular lord.

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However, divine authority belonged to the Church, and secular matters belonged to the lord. Redemption was the domain of the clergy. If Victor rashly intervened in the domain of redemption, he would certainly touch the Radiant Church’s bottom line.

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The Radiant Code was no joke!

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Victor thought for a long time, then said with frustration, “Regarding this matter, I need to write a letter to His Eminence Clement, discuss it with him, and offer some suggestions.” He looked at the old priest’s tear-streaked face and complained, “I’m a lord, not the Pope. What use is it to come to me? You should be the one petitioning the Church!”

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Miller raised a sleeve to wipe his face and cried, “A letter from you will be useless! A petition from me will also be useless! The Church isn’t run by Clement alone… and he might not even support you. You broke up the refugee bands into worker families, so you have to solve this problem. Let’s just get it done first and talk later!”

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Victor flew into a rage, stood up, and waved his hand. “Are you trying to get me killed? I’m making things clear to you today: if I do what the Church is supposed to do, then what’s the point of the Church? Aren’t you asking me to undermine the Church? The Church does the Church’s business, and the lord does the lord’s business. That’s the rule! The power of the rules transcends the power of any individual. Even Sylvia has to obey the rules, let alone me! You are no exception, understand?”

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“The people who made those rules died thousands of years ago, and not even their ashes remain,” Miller said faintly. “What’s so scary about a stone statue on the Radiant Holy Mountain?”

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Victor sucked in a sharp breath, gave a thumbs-up, and said, “For a priest to comment on the first Pope like that… you’ve really got guts.”

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Miller was unconcerned by Victor’s sarcasm. He said with a sincere tone, “Child, the reason I was willing to stay was because you did what the Church should have done. You built longhouses and made wool coats, and not one of the more than twenty thousand refugee workers died of hunger or cold. I saw an extraordinary power in you. Ask your own heart: why are you unwilling to accept the Moon Elf’s Bloodline? Why are you unwilling to ascend the throne of power? A Bloodline is a path, but also a cage. Power is the same. When you’ve thought these things through, whether you are willing to redeem the last of their goodness or not, I will help you cure your withering Bloodline.”

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A Bloodline is a cage? Power is a cage?

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Victor felt as if he had grasped something, yet it was as if he couldn’t see anything clearly. He stood there for a long time, then nodded grimly at Father Miller and walked out of the church with heavy steps.

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Before leaving, he stopped, turned his head, and forced a smile. “I will think it through… I will also think of a solution. I always have a way.”

“

“

The great doors of the cemetery church closed, leaving Miller sitting alone at the table. A smile appeared on his face as he shook his head and murmured to himself:

“

“

“Yes, you can always think of a way… All you need is the courage to recognize your path.”

“

“

Chapter 485: Seeing One’s True Nature

On the way back to Silver Moon Manor, Victor kept pondering why he was hesitating in the face of power and influence that were his for the taking.

Miller had said that bloodline and power were both a path and a cage. Victor felt as if he had grasped a key point, yet he still couldn’t sort out his thoughts. He only had a vague sense that the tenant system’s safeguards were closely related to the path of power and the path of influence, and that he was facing the most important choice of his life.

Back at Silver Moon Manor, Lilia, Elina, and Alice were lightly powdered and rouged, their smiles like blooming flowers. They directed a group of household maids with slender figures and beautiful faces to light the crystal candelabras and arrange a sumptuous feast on the long dining table. It was the height of summer, and the household maids had changed into short-sleeved mid-length dresses of fine linen and half-heeled calfskin sandals, revealing fair, supple arms and a glimpse of delicate, rosy calves. In the candlelight, each one looked delectable and alluring.

Unfortunately, Victor was preoccupied and showed little interest in the candlelight dinner his three personal handmaidens had so carefully prepared. With their master in low spirits, the little attendants eating with him also wore tense expressions, eating with extreme care, afraid of making too much noise and drawing his attention. Only the carefree Beldina was feasting away. The atmosphere at dinner grew heavy. Lilia and the twin sisters exchanged glances. Elina, in particular, looked dejected, her beautiful eyes shimmering with unshed tears, though for what reason, no one knew.

After finishing dinner distractedly and washing up, Victor changed into a silk nightgown. He declined the three handmaidens’ requests to attend to him and entered the master bedroom alone, closing the door behind him. He decided he needed to properly think through his own problems.

However, Victor was anxious about his prospects, his thoughts a chaotic mess. He pondered for a long time without getting anywhere, growing increasingly irritable and impatient. Shaking his head, he reined in his tumultuous emotions and decided to take a walk in the courtyard to relieve his frustration. Just then, he heard the sound of high heels pacing in the corridor. He accessed X-3’s records and discovered it was Elina. She hadn’t slept all night and had just been walking back and forth outside, which piqued his curiosity. He pushed open the door and called out to her.

“Come in.”

Head bowed, Elina walked into the bedroom in her high heels. She wore a low-cut, short nightgown, her hair unbound. Her long, shapely legs were pressed tightly together, her delicate hands clasped nervously. She looked both enchanting and pitiable.

She stole a glance at Victor and said timidly, “My lord…”

“Why aren’t you asleep?”

Victor was in a poor mood, and his tone was naturally cold. Tears immediately welled up in Elina’s eyes and slid down her cheeks. She curtsied and said in a choked voice, “My lord, I’m sorry. I’ll go to sleep right away.” Though she said this, she remained standing where she was, looking at Victor pitifully, with no intention of leaving.

Victor sighed and beckoned to her. “Darling, don’t cry. Come sit down and tell me what’s upsetting you.”

The red-haired beauty obediently sat in her master’s lap and sobbed, “My lord, I didn’t mean to pry into your secrets… I reported the matter of you mastering the Surge talent to Rose Manor… I don’t know how to explain it to you. I’m afraid you won’t want me anymore…”

Elina was gentle and quiet by nature, the most timid of them all, accustomed to being subservient and never daring to argue with anyone. In theory, Nicole, Lilia, and Alice all had a duty to report what happened around Victor to Sylvia, but none of them were willing to do so. In the end, the responsibility of making regular reports to Rose Manor fell to Elina alone. She felt wronged but didn’t know how to express it, and she always felt uneasy when facing Victor. This time, Victor’s coldness had truly terrified her.

After listening to Elina’s story, Victor didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. To him, it was a trivial matter, yet in Elina’s eyes, it was as if the sky were falling.

Ever since Victor had mastered the Surge, his Bloodline and power had both been enhanced. The difference in their levels of life had greatly diminished his attraction to Lilia, the Elina sisters, and Judy. It was slightly better with Lilia, as she and Victor shared a deep emotional bond, and she was hardworking enough on her own. As for those like Judy and Elina, the more they lacked the will for self-reliance, the more apathetic Victor felt toward them.

Beauty and gentleness alone could not win the respect of the powerful.

Victor felt irritable, in no mood to explain himself to his personal handmaiden.

Victor’s anger vanished completely, and his mind gradually calmed. Looking at Elina’s beautiful face, he couldn’t help but feel a wave of emotion.

Sylvia considered herself his official partner. A high-ranking female knight had the right to arrange personal handmaidens for her partner to keep track of his every move. As the suzerain of the Centaur Hills, it was also necessary for Sylvia to place handmaidens by the side of her subordinate lords to serve as an unofficial bridge for communication.

An open liaison was of no consequence; it was the secret planting of spies to steal intelligence unilaterally that constituted malice. This was like an inspector in modern society simply exercising their official duties. The only difference was that a personal handmaiden from the suzerain’s family had a legitimate marital relationship with the lord.

Such were the characteristics of Family politics, and Victor had nothing to complain about. Otherwise, what would that make his own practice of training household maids and wedding them to key members of the Randall family?

The matters Elina reported to Rose Manor were all things Victor wanted Sylvia to know. As for the secrets he wished to hide, Elina had no way of learning them.

In the long run, the Elina sisters would be happier marrying some minor lord than staying with Victor. But their power and willpower were too weak; they could not control their own destinies and could only be compelled by their family’s arrangements.

Compelled by circumstances? Am I not also compelled by circumstances… Who is mastering my path?

An idea flashed through Victor’s mind. After a moment of thought, he gently pushed Elina away, sat up, got dressed, and walked out of the bedroom towards the study on the top floor.

The top-floor study housed the backup accounts for the Randell Fief and the Phoenix Fief. It was a forbidden ground in the lord’s residence, guarded by two Alchemical auxiliary soldiers. No one was allowed to enter without permission from Victor, Nicole, or Lilia.

Climbing the stairs to the top floor and crossing the corridor, Victor arrived at the study door. He instructed the Alchemical auxiliary soldier on night duty, “I need to be alone for a while. Don’t let anyone disturb me.” With that, he entered the study, bolted the door, and lay down on the small bed inside. He had X-3 take over his sight, hearing, smell, and Blind Sense, allowing his primary consciousness to sink into a silent darkness.

Victor decided to eliminate all distractions and dig for the answer to his problem from the depths of his own heart.

The events he had experienced since his transmigration to this world replayed in his mind, one scene after another: choosing to betray his little Baron status to escape the vortex of political struggle, leading his followers to the desolate south to carve out his own territory; activating Alchemy Tower number seven, his confidence soaring, absorbing knowledge by any means necessary, working with the Tower Spirit to deduce the historical secrets of this world; the refugee leader’s refusal to submit, giving the order to exterminate the bandits for the first time, killing hundreds; rejecting the York family’s recruitment; the setbacks in the raw sugar, Snow Sugar, and coffee trade, sparking the idea of building his own trade channels; killing for the first time with his own hands; his first conflict with a lord; the first time he had the thought of undermining the foundations of the Church… Victor gradually came to understand that all the difficulties he had encountered stemmed from his unwillingness to be reconciled, his unwillingness to submit… an unwillingness to be controlled by others, a refusal to yield to reality.

For thousands of years, everyone has been like this, so why are you different? Why are you unwilling to be a vassal lord? Why did you have to form The Golden Company? Why did you have to create a centralized system of allotted land? Why did you have to create a secret art for the Bloodline of the mind? You fight against tradition, so your every step is a struggle, so you are beset by difficulties!

Yes, I have never truly compromised. All my compromises have been my tools and my methods, all for the sake of not compromising… What do I truly want?

The scene turned to Edward and Angelina’s engagement banquet. In the secret chamber, Marquess Bastern, facing the lofty Spirit Knight, stated resolutely, “I refuse to sign.”

The Spirit Knight’s almost tangible psychic sword pierced the old Marquess’s brow. He had sacrificed his precious life but had failed to pick up the wine glass that was right within his grasp.

The little King’s face was pale as he mumbled in confusion and pain, “Why would Grandpa Bastern object to my marriage with Anna? Doesn’t he wish for our happiness? Why would Her Highness Sylvia kill the Grand Vizier of the kingdom?”

Sylvia shook her head and sighed, “Your Majesty, this is what I find so helpless.”

Marquess Golan said gravely, “The dignity of a Spirit Knight cannot be challenged by a mortal! Your Majesty, please remember Marquess Bastern’s loyalty.”

Princess Royal Roland said angrily, “This is coercion against Auguste!”

Pope Clement said calmly, “Marquess Bastern was old and frail. He died of natural causes.”

The scene froze. Bastern’s resolve, Sylvia’s helplessness, Golan’s gravity, Roland’s anger, Clement’s calmness, and Edward’s confusion and pain were all laid bare before Victor’s eyes.

“Sylvia could have silenced Bastern with a single glance, but she didn’t… Golan stood before Bastern like a mountain. Even though Golan detested a mortal challenging a supreme Knight, he did not stop Bastern. He even praised Bastern’s courage and loyalty… Roland was angry because Bastern had shattered her brother’s romantic ideals. She had foreseen it but did nothing to stop it… Clement’s mentality was the most complex. Overall, it was a sense of gratified matter-of-factness. He was gratified by Bastern’s insistence, and he saw the Gold Knights’ restraint as only natural…”

“This was an education for His Majesty the King!”

Victor walked up to “Bastern” and asked with a frown, “From where does your conviction come? Who was it that educated you? And who educated the Gold Knights and the Pope, teaching them to restrain their own will and power?”

“It was me.”

The scene suddenly shattered, and a female priest in a white robe appeared before Victor. She had an elegant an refined appearance and a tranquil, detached air. Beneath her smooth, full forehead was a pair of piercingly bright eyes, and a watery light bloomed around her, as if she were the incarnation of the goddess of wisdom.

Victor raised his right hand to shield his eyes, as if to ward off the light of wisdom radiating from the priestess, but then he lowered it again. He nodded with a smile. “Arya, the creator of the vassalage system, the founder of the Bronze Age, the creator of the Silver Spire.”

“I am Arya. I united the Knight-Nobles and the clergy, with scholars as the bond between them. Bastern was my disciple.” The female priest Arya tilted her head to study Victor and asked with a smile, “Do you hate me?”

“No!” Victor bowed deeply and said with sincerity, “I am filled with respect for you. Your power and influence were negligible, but your teachings transcended the power of Gold Knights and the authority of Kings. Even Spirit Knights must abide by your constraints…”

“I’m sorry, but you cannot constrain me.” A longsword appeared in Victor’s hand. He thrust it forward, its tip sinking into “Arya’s” chest.

The female priest looked into Victor’s eyes, her smile unchanging. She nodded and said in a sincere tone, “If there is a path after mine… I would be very happy.”

As her voice fell, the scene changed again. A step appeared where “Arya” had stood, and Victor climbed it. At the top of the steps, he saw a figure made of platinum holy light. Its radiance was so intense and dazzling that it was impossible to look at directly. At the center of the light was a book, so ancient and heavy it seemed to carry the vicissitudes of history itself.

“The Radiant Code… the first Pope, Inoc?”

“You are not satisfied with replacing Arya?” the figure of holy light asked in an indifferent voice. “Do you wish to replace me as well?”

“I did not replace Arya.” Victor shook his head and said, “She paved the step for me. I am standing on her shoulders.”

“I have always been curious. Over nine thousand years ago, you could have easily unified humanity, created a theocratic empire, and held supreme power… Yet you chose self-restraint, compromising with the Knights. Only now do I understand that there has never been such a thing as supreme power!”

“Arya had wisdom but lacked power; her ideas had to be attached to the Radiant Code. Sylvia is half-human, half-god, possessing both power and wisdom, but she is constantly being eroded by the Elemental Sea and must have an anchor to maintain her sense of self. Protecting her family is the best spiritual anchor for a Gold Knight… In truth, not all Gold Knights are obsessed with power; they are more concerned with boredom and loneliness. That is why Sylvia, knowing I have many secrets, does not expose them. In her eyes, I am like a goose that lays golden eggs, always keeping things fresh for her, always bringing her surprises. Even if it harms the interests of the York family, she still chooses to indulge me. Roland is an exception among the Gold Knights. She is full of passion and curiosity for life, and the shackles of power cause her pain, which is why she is unwilling to inherit the throne… I even suspect she wants to run away from home and become a wandering princess.”

Victor laughed freely. “I am not a Knight, so the Elemental Sea has no direct effect on me. With my abilities, I could live very well even if I were all alone… galloping across the wilderness, soaring through dense forests, running in the mountains, and enjoying the beauty of nature to the fullest; or I could be a willful Ranger, protecting the weak and punishing bullies, fully enjoying the pleasure that power brings, unfettered and free… or I could be an emperor with great power in my hands… With ability comes countless choices. Once an individual’s ability surpasses power, power becomes his cage. Only those with insufficient ability will crave the pleasure that power brings.”

“Right now, I only want to know one thing: what is above power?”

“Above power is light, is rules, is The Path,” the figure of holy light said, its voice identical to Victor’s.

Victor laughed happily, nodding repeatedly as he exclaimed with admiration, “Yes, the one who plays the power game is inferior to the one who makes the rules. The one who wears the crown is inferior to the one who places the crown upon his head. That is what I want.”

The figure of light asked dispassionately, “Do you want to overthrow me? That would lead to a惨烈 bloody war.”

Victor glanced at the Radiant Code within the holy light and shook his head. “I don’t have the ability, nor is there a need… The power of the holy light is still useful to me…” He held his longsword and moved past “Inoc’s” position. From beneath his feet, a throne rose out of thin air, lifting him high.

Victor sat behind “Inoc”, looking down from on high as the steps below him grew wider. He said with a resolute expression:

“The position I want is here!”

Chapter 486: Boundless Ambition

“Commoners want to be vassals, vassals want to be lords, lords want to be kings. So what do kings want?

“Everyone fantasizes about possessing a king’s power. If they cannot obtain it, they will convey their ambitions to their superiors, creating opportunities for their own advancement. Commoners influence vassals, vassals influence lords, and lords influence the king. If a king cannot assert his own will and is instead manipulated by the will of his subjects, he is nothing more than a puppet.

“Take Edward Auguste, for example. Even falling in love resulted in a bloody tragedy. What an interesting king he is. His father, Ryan Auguste, was no better. A mighty Gold Knight, he was practically trembling when he had an heir with a noblewoman from the Tyrell family, terrified that the Four Great Princes would secretly have the child killed.

“The Auguste family wields the royal authority of Gambis, yet the kingdom’s vassals and the Church’s clergy dictate what they can and cannot do. The king’s power and his reputation for being just and benevolent have become a cage, shackling the Augustes.

“In contrast, there was the first Pope Inoc. He renounced secular power, declared that Knights and clergy should coexist as equals, that Spirit Knights and the Pope held equal status, and he established a social system built on protection, redemption, and devotion.

“The clergy and the Knights were indeed equal, but this equality was decreed by the first Pope. Inoc himself stood above everyone, including all future Popes and Spirit Knights.

“A true king is not bound by love, not entranced by power, not burdened by reputation. He reshapes the world according to his own will, using power and prestige merely as tools to realize his ideals.

Victor opened his eyes, which shone with a divine light, as bright and clear as the moon. All a trace of his confusion had vanished, replaced by an unshakeable conviction.

In that moment, he had found his Path.

From the work point system to the Leasehold Employment System, and now to the Centralized Allotted Land System, Victor already had his own political ideals. The next step was to have the Centralized Allotted Land System completely replace the feudal system and be placed above even the Radiant Code.

A centralized system is absolute; there is no such thing as so-called equal coexistence. In Victor’s vision, the Church would be incorporated into the second tier of the centralized system’s pyramid, serving the secular regime rather than playing the role of supervisor and enforcer. This aligned perfectly with the ambitions of the Knight-Lords, for Victor was, by his very nature, on the side of the secular lords.

For a long time, ambitious Knight-Nobles had wanted to crush the Church under their heel. They adopted a two-pronged strategy. The first was to spread the noble bloodline through the feudal system, allowing nobles to infiltrate the Church and seize authority over the divine arts. The second was to unify the human kingdoms, bringing all common people under their rule and forcing the clergy to submit to imperial power.

Unfortunately, neither strategy could succeed. For the Knight-Lords, the question of who would be emperor was an unsolvable problem. Objectively speaking, the Church was unified while the lords were fragmented. The noble clergy formed their own faction and had no desire to see a great, unified empire. With the Church stirring up trouble, it was harder for the lords to unify the kingdoms through force and marriage alliances than it was to ascend to the heavens.

Thus, whenever a powerful empire showed signs of unifying humanity, it would quickly collapse. The Iron Mountain Empire fell, the Randt Empire fell, and the Sasan Empire’s war of aggression was half-hearted… The Knight-Lords had become the Church’s shepherd dogs. And all of this was Inoc’s doing.

Only by trampling Inoc underfoot could he feel a true sense of accomplishment!

Victor’s Centralized Allotted Land System could make the clergy bow their heads in submission without needing to unify the human kingdoms.

The people relied on the Church, and the Church relied on its believers. The Centralized Allotted Land System transformed refugees into tenant households who, under the protection of their lord, would multiply in number. The clergy’s power would grow with the number of believers, but they could not escape the constraints of the Radiant Code. If they were unwilling to renounce the power of faith brought by the tenant system, their only option would be to rely on the power of secular lords to implement it. Once tenant households became the main source of power for the Pool of Holy Power, it would be too late for the Church to turn back. The Radiant Code would not permit them to do so, either.

The lords held the scattered tenant households hostage, and the vast population of tenants held the Church’s clergy hostage.

You want faith? I’ll give you faith. But secular power belongs to me. You should cooperate with me, not the other way around.

Perhaps a scene like this would unfold in the future: the Inquisition wants to sanction a certain lord, so the lord mobilizes a vast number of tenant households to plead their case at the church. The resident priest reports this to his superiors. How could the Holy See remain indifferent? If the King also mediated, the Church would have no choice but to yield. Otherwise, they would face pressure from the entire kingdom.

The success of the Centralized Allotted Land System depended on two key points. The first was to use a sound monetary and financial system to concentrate resources in the hands of the lords, with the tithe and the kingdom’s annual tribute all settled in currency. The second was to increase the tenant households’ dependence on secular lords while reducing their dependence on the Church.

Victor was already working on the first point. As for the second, only Victor could accomplish it.

If the Mind Bloodline secret art could enhance the power of ordinary people, giving them the courage and confidence to expand their territories and rise to become kings and ministers, they would naturally gravitate towards secular lords.

But before that, there was a fatal flaw in the Centralized Allotted Land System that needed to be addressed—the social security system for tenant households could not be entirely controlled by the Church. Otherwise, the Church would turn the tenant households into its own political force and, in turn, restrict the power of secular lords.

The inertia of a system is incredibly powerful, possessing the ability to self-correct and self-improve. The Centralized Allotted Land System was not yet a closed loop. With the Church dominating its support system, there could be no talk of centralization. Victor’s political ambitions might as well be declared dead on arrival.

“To force the Church’s head down, I must step into the domain of redemption!”

Victor paced back and forth in his study, continuously running various scenarios through the X-3. A detailed plan gradually formed in his mind.

After a moment’s thought, he raised a hand and pushed open the study window. Leaping out, a stream of dark-green energy enveloped his body. He placed one hand on the white sand-adorned wall and slid noiselessly to the ground. With a light tap of his feet, he shot like an arrow toward Laketon.

The rushing airflow cut through the thick air, seeming to form a channel of extremely low resistance. Like a weightless phantom, Victor leaped over the wall, flew across the treetops of the hills, and reached Laketon, five kilometers away, in just one minute and twenty seconds.

He avoided Laketon’s night patrols and silently arrived at the small church where Father Miller resided. Two Sacred Warriors on night duty guarded the church entrance, while inside the courtyard, someone patrolled back and forth with a sentinel hound. He vaulted over the wall, darted to the base of the bell tower, and scaled it with ease, using both his hands and feet. He then descended the spiral staircase to Miller’s bedroom and knocked gently on the door.

After a long moment, the old priest rustled out of bed. Holding a candle, he pulled open the wooden door and let Victor in. He cautiously peered outside, and seeing that no one had noticed the disturbance, he closed the door.

Victor found a chair and sat down, saying smugly, “When I don’t want to be seen, no one can see me.”

Miller yawned, stuck the candle to the table with a bit of wax, rubbed his eyes, and said irritably, “What are you doing, running over here like a thief in the middle of the night instead of sleeping?”

“Well, I am here like a thief.”

Victor smiled and nodded. “Old man, I’ve thought it through… The question is, have you thought it through?”

“Right now, all I want to do is sleep… Don’t you know how precious an old man’s sleep is?”

Miller grumbled, then sat on his bed and muttered, “Alright, what has a little rascal like you figured out?”

Victor shrugged, propped his legs on the table, and said nonchalantly, “I’ve told you about the tenant system in the Randell Fief, and you’ve seen its problems. With the Church’s current system, it’s quite difficult to redeem the tenant households. You’re counting on me to solve the problem, and I can agree to that now… but have you ever considered what it truly means if I do this?”

“What means what? Just say what you mean!” Father Miller glared at Victor, his face a mask of impatience.

If you can’t figure it out, just say so. Why pretend? Victor was secretly amused. He cleared his throat, wagged his long index finger, and said, “Redemption is the authority of the clergy. When I start redeeming the people on behalf of the clergy, the Church’s influence over them will be weakened… Hah, let’s put it this way: I redeem the people, the people love and respect me. They won’t report me to the Church; on the contrary, they’ll defend me at every turn. The Church will no longer be able to find any excuse to restrain me.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Miller paused, then shook his head, his expression solemn. “Redemption has never been an authority, but an obligation of the clergy. For the clergy to seek power in the name of redemption is to stray from the Lord’s path… This is a corruption that needs redemption, the root of all tragedy!”

“Others don’t see it that way…” Victor mused for a moment, then continued to probe, “Actually, if you reported the problem of redeeming tenant households to your superiors, the Holy See would surely find a way to resolve it.”

“How long would that take? Ten years? Twenty, or thirty?” Miller sneered and shook his head. “They’ll bicker and drag their feet. Only when a major disaster strikes will they try to solve the problem, seizing power for themselves in the process… and the people are the ones who suffer. Victor, you go all out. I support you!”

Victor was startled and quickly waved his hands. “Your support is doing nothing. If you jump into the fray, it’ll all be ruined… Be discreet, understand? I’ll handle things quietly, you pretend you know nothing, and someone else will naturally take the blame.”

“Who?”

“You’d best not ask.”

The old priest’s mouth moved, and he asked, unwilling to let it go, “You have to reveal something to me, right? Otherwise, how will I know you’re not just fooling me?”

Victor raised an eyebrow, a mysterious smile gracing his lips. “I recall two Church tenets: the clergy shall not seek profit; and the people should practice self-redemption.”

“Correct.” Miller nodded and explained, “The clergy are forbidden from engaging in any for-profit activities; they can only receive a monthly stipend and subsidies according to their rank. That’s why even when the Monastery sells medicinal herbs to a lord, it must be done in the form of relief aid and donations. As for the people’s self-redemption, it teaches believers to be loving and mutually supportive… However, that tenet was added later. It isn’t in the Radiant Code, but it aligns with the spirit the Radiant Code promotes.”

“That’s enough,” Victor nodded and said. “The method I’ll use is closely related to these two tenets… As for the specific details, it’s not convenient for me to reveal them… Just you wait and see.”

“Is that so.” The old priest stroked his beard and nodded. “Then I’ll wait and see… You can go now. I need to sleep.”

Victor sneered, “Old man, have you forgotten something?”

“What thing?” Miller looked at Victor blankly.

Victor flew into a rage, grinding his teeth. “My human bloodline!”

“Oh, look at my memory.” Miller slapped his forehead and chuckled. “I completely forgot to tell you, I’ve already cured it.”

“Cured it?” Victor looked at the old priest suspiciously. “When? How come I didn’t know?”

“It was that day… when you went to Rose Manor. I was observing your physical condition and cured your withering Bloodline on the spot.”

Victor shot to his feet, pointed at Miller’s nose, and growled, “Nonsense! I didn’t feel a thing! You… I… I know for a fact that nothing about me has changed.”

“What change could there be? What change did you want?” Miller demanded, his beard bristling and eyes wide.

Victor slowly sat back down. After a moment of silence, he said, “I want to strengthen both my human and Moon Elf bloodlines simultaneously.”

Miller shook his head and said, “Someone used a potion to lock your human bloodline. Every time your Moon Elf bloodline becomes active, it draws strength from your human bloodline. Eventually, your Moon Elf bloodline will completely replace your human one. If you want to strengthen your human bloodline, your Moon Elf bloodline will weaken, and your innate abilities will vanish one by one. I have removed part of the medicinal seal, allowing your human and elven bloodlines to strengthen in sync. But this is not easy. You must find the common ground between the Moon Elf and human bloodlines.”

“Understand now? If I hadn’t treated you, you would have had no choice but to become a Moon Elf. Now, I have given you a choice, but you must find the specific method yourself.”

I… I was drugged… Victor’s expression flickered between light and shadow. He gritted his teeth and asked, “Who gave me the potion?”

“Who do you think?” Miller looked at Victor with pity. “Frankly, I think you should thank them.”

“The Augustes…” Victor shook his head with a bitter smile, then sighed and asked with great anticipation, “You removed part of the medicinal seal… What about the rest?”

“Heh heh, it’s your fertility.” The old God-favored man gave a lecherous wink and teased, “You can’t have children with other women right now. Only a woman who has taken the same potion can bear your offspring… Of course, I can restore your fertility, but once you have it, your bloodline will be permanently fixed. I advise you to think it over carefully before making a decision.”

An image of Catherine surfaced in Victor’s mind. He shook his head and asked gloomily, “Is there no other way?”

Miller replied, “Once you’ve pushed your bloodline’s potential to its limit, you will naturally gain fertility. Or, you could have your partner take that potion.” At this, Miller’s expression turned serious. “I must remind you, the stronger your bloodline, the fewer descendants you will have. If your Moon Elf and human bloodlines both reach their peak, you will have at most four children. If you use that potion to have children with your partner now, it will inevitably weaken your bloodline’s potential.”

No wonder the Court Ladies at Aerie Fortress wouldn’t let me be alone with Catherine… Realization dawned on Victor. Then, he thought of another crucial point. Forcibly suppressing his excitement, he asked, “If… let’s assume my human and Moon Elf bloodlines both reach their peak, will Sylvia and I have descendants?”

Miller shook his head, then nodded. “I said it wouldn’t be easy… But yes, you will!”

So, the Sun Elf bloodline and the human bloodline are compatible! My Path is indeed the correct one… Victor couldn’t help but smile.

“Hurry up and leave… I can still get some more sleep.” Miller blew out the candle, lay down on the bed, and spoke with his back to Victor.

Victor jumped to the bedside and nudged Miller. “One last question. What is the common ground between the Moon Elf and human bloodlines?”

“I don’t know… How could I possibly know everything? You’ll have to figure it out yourself.” Miller turned his head, glared at Victor, and threatened, “If you disturb my sleep again, believe it or not, I’ll remove the medicinal seal on you right now!”

Victor immediately turned and fled in disarray.

Chapter 487: Mutual Aid Association

Laketon, Administrative Hall, round table meeting room.

“The Lord says, all who believe in me shall hold a heart of kindness and mercy. Aid those who have fallen on hard times, offer fire to those who are lonely and cold, share food with those suffering from illness. Do not bury your brothers and sisters while they still draw breath, do not cast out widows and orphans, do not abandon the old, the weak, and the disabled…”

Kohler kneeled on the floor, his hands clasped before his nose, his expression solemn. Sweat dripped from his chin as his knees grew sore and weak, the muscles in his thighs twitching uncontrollably. His fine linen shirt, soaked through, clung to his body, an utterly unbearable sensation.

The stuffy heat of the meeting room and the priest’s endless chanting made his head swim. Only a single thought remained:

Why isn’t this over? Why isn’t this over yet?

“…He who helps others shall be helped; he who saves others shall be saved. This is the path of self-redemption, and also the path of devotion… Follow the Lord’s Path, and His radiance will be with you.” The priest made the holy symbol over his chest, declaring the sermon’s end. He nodded to the church attendants beside him, signaling for them to open the doors and windows to air out the sweaty stench in the room.

Kohler hastily made the triangular holy symbol over his own chest, stood, and rubbed his aching knees. He suddenly saw a portly man beside him, drenched in sweat, struggling to get up from the puddle he had formed at his feet. An inexplicable sense of satisfaction bloomed in his heart.

This portly man was named Weyrich and had only recently moved to Laketon from Wildwillow City. It was said he was once a prominent merchant in Deepwater City’s Black Market, with over two hundred clerks, more than twenty general stores, four inns, and two taverns under his command—a truly wealthy and powerful figure. But because his business had grown too large, he had attracted unwanted attention. He was forced to sell off his Deepwater City storefronts at a low price, pay a hefty sum to the Deepwater City gangs, and then flee to Wildwillow City to make a living.

Business in Wildwillow City was indeed good; anyone with a shop could get rich. However, storefronts were now the hardest thing to acquire there. It was a mystery how Weyrich had pulled his connections, but he had somehow gotten in touch with Wildwillow’s Master John. Master John not only entrusted six shops to Weyrich’s management but also introduced him to Laketon.

Freemen merchants would do anything to squeeze into the Wildwillow City market, while the freemen merchants of Wildwillow all wanted to settle in Laketon. Everyone knew that for any merchant who purchased a home and established residency in Laketon, their business in Wildwillow City was secure. Now, Laketon no longer sold property to outsiders; it didn’t matter how much money a freeman merchant offered.

Kohler was one of the first freemen merchants to purchase a house and establish residency in Laketon, and he had a deep appreciation for its benefits.

The market in Laketon was not as bustling as Wildwillow City’s on a normal day, but every weekend, tens of thousands of refugee workers would flood the market, opening their purses for food, drink, entertainment, and shopping. The market would be a sea of people, shoulder to shoulder, even livelier than Wildwillow City. Although there was no major business to be done with the workers, the profit margins on retail goods were high. Like a steady stream that gathers into a river, the total profits were astonishing.

The merchants of Laketon transported bulk commodities from the Randell Fief to sell in the Wildwillow City market, and then purchased goods from Wildwillow to retail back in Laketon. By doing business on both sides, they earned profits from both ends, leaving them all grinning from ear to ear.

The House of Randell’s annual Midsummer Carnival was only ten days away. Kohler had received a notice from the tax collector early that morning, requesting his presence at the Administrative Hall in the afternoon for a merchant gathering hosted by the Laketon market supervisor to discuss discounts and tax exemptions for the Carnival.

Not all merchants were qualified to attend these deliberation meetings held by the Administrative Hall. The Laketon market supervisor had selected twenty-six representatives from the two hundred and seventy-four merchant households. Kohler was one of them.

He had eaten lunch early, groomed himself meticulously, changed into respectable clothes and the latest style of gentleman’s leather shoes, and arrived at the Administrative Hall ahead of schedule with the other twenty-five representatives. They hadn’t expected to see the portly merchant Weyrich, who had only just joined them in Laketon, nor had they expected Father Dayn from the Laketon Church to preach to them in the round table meeting room.

They were told they were coming to discuss business, so how had it turned into a sermon?

Looking at the twenty-seven miserable-looking merchants, Father Dayn also found the situation strange. He preached to the faithful every day, but this was the first time he had ever done so in the lord’s Administrative Hall.

Many new and curious things will happen in the Randell Fief. You must study them well and ponder them carefully… Recalling Pope Clement’s advice, Father Dayn shook his head with a wry smile, cleared his throat, and said, “Is there anything you still do not understand about the path of self-redemption?”

“We understand, we understand everything… We shall surely follow the Lord’s teachings,” the merchants nodded hastily.

Servants from the Administrative Hall entered the meeting room with cool well water, handing it out to the merchants. After they had drunk and cooled down, Father Dayn began again in a slow, deliberate tone, “Now, there is a matter that will test your pious hearts.”

The merchants exchanged glances, groaning inwardly… Is Father Dayn asking for offerings?

The cup of cool water cleared Kohler’s head considerably. He was the first to speak up. “Respected Father Dayn, whatever you need, please just give the word. As long as it is within my power, I will not shirk my duty!”

The others, catching on, chimed in one after another.

“Yes, yes, as long as it’s within our means, we will certainly not refuse.”

“I know that everyone here is a pious and generous believer who donates monthly… For the construction of the cathedral in Laketon, your offerings have been the largest among the commoner faithful.” Father Dayn nodded in approval, then said thoughtfully, “Among the one hundred thousand people of the Randell and Phoenix Fiefs, some believers are living in hardship. Although the Church provides much relief aid, it cannot completely solve their difficulties… They need the self-redemption of you, their fellow parishioners.”

Tch, it’s still about money!

The merchants exchanged looks, their gazes converging on Kohler. He stepped forward, bowed deeply, and said with sincerity, “I am willing to offer four hundred Silver Sols to help our brothers and sisters overcome their difficulties.”

The others generously opened their purses. “I am willing to offer four hundred Silver Sols to help our brothers and sisters with their self-redemption.”

“I’ll give three hundred and eighty Silver Sols…”

“I’ll give three hundred and sixty Silver Sols.”

The portly merchant Weyrich raised his right hand, his voice the last to be heard. “I’ll give one hundred…”

How dare he shout so loudly for one hundred Silver Sols… Kohler and the others wore expressions of disdain.

“…Gold Sols!” the portly merchant finished, catching his breath.

One hundred Gold Sols? That’s thirty-six hundred Silver Sols! That damned fatso is loaded… So what if he has a bit of stinking money… The merchants nodded amicably at their new partner, their eyes hiding a trace of contempt.

Father Dayn also gave the portly merchant a second look before shaking his head. “This is not just a matter of money… The Kingdom of Gambia is at war with the savage Fishmen. Not long ago, three hundred and seven brave mercenary soldiers from the Randell Fief unfortunately died in battle, and over a hundred more were injured, twenty-seven of whom were left with permanent disabilities… In addition, The Swamp Scouts responsible for monitoring the Ant-man army also suffer casualties from time to time. To date, a total of eighty-three Swamp Scouts have been disabled, some of them paralyzed for life… Although Viscount Randell provides them with compensation, they need someone to care for them. Their wives, parents, and siblings are forced to stop working and stay home to look after them. Some families consist only of a couple and their underage children. If the wife cannot go out to earn a living, the compensation will one day run out, and such families will face even greater hardship. Then there are the bachelors with no one to care for them, who can only live in the Church’s poorhouse long-term…”

Father Dayn paused, then continued, “In the future, there will be more such unfortunate souls, and more such families… I hope that all of you here can contribute both money and effort to help these families achieve self-redemption.”

This is indeed not a matter of money… It’s a matter of a great deal of money. You can help with an emergency, but not with chronic poverty. This is a bottomless pit!

The merchants’ faces turned ashen. They resolved among themselves to seek out My Lady Lilia as soon as the priest left and beg her to intervene, to make him give up this demand that would be the death of them.

“I have already discussed this with My Lady Lilia…”

The merchants’ hearts instantly turned to ash… Can we even stay in Laketon anymore?

“She has agreed to let you form a Mutual Aid Association. The purpose of this association will be to help families in need complete their self-redemption.”

Father Dayn said with a faint smile, “The Mutual Aid Association will build a Mutual Aid House next to the poorhouses in every village, town, and farmstead, specifically to shelter the Randell Fief’s orphaned, widowed, disabled, and frail, allowing their families to have a new lease on life. Is there anyone willing to join the Mutual Aid Association?”

“I am!” The portly merchant Weyrich raised his hand again, shouting, “I am willing to contribute four hundred Gold Sols to join the Mutual Aid Association!”

“Good! From this day forward, you will be the first chairman of the Randell Mutual Aid Association.” Father Dayn pointed at the fat man and asked in a cordial tone, “Believer, what is your name?”

“Respected Father, my name is Weyrich.”

The portly man’s smug expression drew furious glares from the other merchants.

The atmosphere in the room grew a little stiff. Father Dayn cleared his throat, looked around, and said, “Of course, it is not realistic to have the core members of the Mutual Aid Association bear all the relief costs. The poorhouses will provide for the basic needs of the orphaned, widowed, disabled, and frail, while the Mutual Aid Association will be primarily responsible for their centralized care. Lord Viscount Randell will permit the association to hire staff specifically to look after their daily needs. In addition, the association can collect a certain monthly fee from the families receiving aid to fund the operation of the Mutual Aid House.”

Hmm? This could work!

Kohler’s eyes lit up. He raised his hand and shouted, “I’ll contribute one hundred and fifty Gold Sols! No! I’ll contribute two hundred and forty Gold Sols to join the Mutual Aid Association!”

The Mutual Aid Association is a civic organization initiated by the Church and permitted by the lord. Although joining might mean a small long-term financial loss, it will elevate my social standing in the Randell Fief!

The others reacted as well, shouting one after another:

“I’ll contribute two hundred and twenty Gold Sols!”

“I’ll contribute two hundred and forty Gold Sols!”

“I’ll contribute one hundred and eighty Gold Sols…”

Father Dayn nodded in satisfaction. He performed the Divine Art of Holy Light and said in a solemn voice, “The Pious shall be rewarded. May the Lord bless you.”

“May the Supreme Lord’s radiance endure forever!” The crowd knelt on the ground, praying devoutly.

As the faint holy light gradually dimmed, a voice as pleasant as a warbler’s song sounded from the doorway.

“Father Dane, have you concluded your business?”

The stunningly beautiful My Lady Lilia strode gracefully into the meeting room and curtsied to Father Dayn, lightly holding her skirt. Her personal guard, Marcy, bowed in greeting.

“Lady Randell, may the Lord guide your Path.” Father Dayn made the holy symbol over his chest.

“Good day, Lady Randell.” The merchants bowed respectfully.

Father Dayn left his seat and walked to Lilia’s side. He announced to the merchants, “My Lady Lilia has a tax-free business deal to entrust to the Mutual Aid Association.” He raised his arm and gestured. “My Lady, if you please. I shall take my leave.”

Lilia smiled faintly and, in her high heels, walked gracefully to the head of the table. She took a black piece of paper from Marcy’s hand and addressed the merchants. “This business is called the Mutual Aid Voucher. It is, in fact, a lottery… issued once a week, with the draw held on the weekend… Twenty percent of the total revenue will go to issuance costs, forty percent to the prize pool…”

As Father Dayn led his church attendants to the door, he glanced back and saw the merchants listening quietly, their eyes filled with respect. He couldn’t help but recall a famous saying within the Church:

Even the most pious believer must still eat and be clothed.

Laketon Castle, the lord’s study.

Victor sat behind his desk, toying with a black piece of paper on which an eight-digit number was written in a special white dye. He hadn’t expected the Randell Fief’s improved paper to be used for lottery tickets before it was even used for writing.

The rules and use of funds for the Randell Fief’s lottery imitated those of lotteries on Earth, but the name had been changed to “Mutual Aid Voucher.”

The paper and dye for the Mutual Aid Vouchers were made from several special plants. When lit, they would burn with orange and indigo flames. The Alchemical humans used these plant-based fuels for signal fires, and they were difficult for human craftsmen to replicate, which was enough to ensure the vouchers were counterfeit-proof.

Compared to the technology behind the Mutual Aid Voucher, its significance was far more extraordinary.

The emergence of the Mutual Aid Association and the Mutual Aid Voucher meant that the barrel of the Centralized Allotted Land System finally had its bottom plank plugged. With the upward mobility offered by the education system and the self-healing capability of the social security system, it could now securely hold “water.”

This “water” was not just limited to refugee tenants, but also included the liege’s subjects, vassals, knight-nobles, scholars, clergy, and the lord himself.

If the tenant system had no safety net, bankrupt tenant households could only appeal to the Church. The Church’s priests would hand them over to knights, and once a knight had followers, he could establish his own minor family. The Centralized Allotted Land System would still lose out to the feudal system.

But when the most fundamental refugee tenants gained the ability to self-heal, they would no longer rely on knights and priests, but would be stably united under the lord’s rule. Knights, unable to recruit enough followers, could only rent their land to tenants and take up positions at the lord’s side, gradually transforming into a landlord nobility. The tenants, liege’s subjects, and vassals would likewise transform into the landlord class.

In other words, Victor could now begin recruiting Wild Knights!

With military, political, and legal power all centralized in Victor’s hands, the efficiency and strength of the House of Randell was something no ordinary lord could match. In the pioneer wars, the more land resources the House of Randell occupied, the stronger its attraction would be to refugees, knights, scholars, and clergy. The snowball would grow larger and larger. Traditional feudal lords would be unable to compete with Victor; their families would weaken, and newly-risen knights would only pledge allegiance to the House of Randell.

Thus, Victor would achieve a lead by ‘overtaking on a curve’.

When the forces of production change, whoever first adjusts the relations of production will be the first to gain an advantage from the new system.

Whether the Mutual Aid Association could succeed was the absolute key.

Victor wasn’t worried about the Church controlling the Mutual Aid Association. Its core members were all merchants from the Randell Fief whose sources of goods and shops were all in his hands. Victor could reduce them to poverty, and once they lost their wealth, they would naturally be out of the game. Piety would be useless then.

His fear was that the upper echelons of the Church would quickly realize the gravity of the situation and immediately shut down the Mutual Aid Association, establishing a new relief system for tenants. Clement in particular, with his shrewd judgment and sharp insight, was the most likely to spot the problem first.

After thinking it over, Victor realized that the best tool at his disposal was the internal power struggles of the Holy See.

Clement’s desire for power and survival are both strong. If I can back him into a corner, I should be able to drag him into this… Victor thought for a moment, then picked up his quill and wrote a fiery love letter to Catherine. In the letter, he boastfully described his concepts for the tenant system and the Mutual Aid Association… as well as the otherworldy version of a lottery.

“My lord, Father Dayn requests an audience.”

“Send him in.” Victor put down his quill and tucked the letter into a drawer.

Father Dayn walked into the study and bowed. “Your Excellency Randell, good day. May the Lord guide your direction.”

“Call me Victor.”

Victor rose from his seat and greeted him warmly, “Dayn, is the matter of the Mutual Aid Association settled?”

“Uh… Victor, I think we should hold off on the Mutual Aid Association for now.”

Father Dayn hesitated for a moment, then said with a frown, “I have a feeling the scale of the Mutual Aid Association will grow larger and larger… I should report this to Bishop Pello first.”

“How large can it get? It’s just a few dozen freemen merchant representatives. The association’s funds come mainly from the Mutual Aid Vouchers and are under the dual supervision of the Church and the Administrative Office. These merchants are just using the money to hire caregivers. There’s nothing to worry about,” Victor said with an unconcerned smile.

“But the group the association helps will grow larger and larger…” Dayn said hesitantly. “I just feel an inkling of unease.”

Victor leaned against the desk, his arms crossed. He nodded and said, “That’s right! The scope of the association’s aid also includes the elderly who have lost the ability to care for themselves, to prevent them from becoming a burden on tenant families. Although they have lost their ability to work, their faith in the Supreme Lord has never wavered. The Mutual Aid House will be built right next to the Church, and they will pray day and night… Isn’t it a good thing for the Church to have a group of pious believers singing hymns every day? Or are you saying this merit is too great for you to bear?”

Father Dayn wanted to speak but stopped, his eyes darting about, clearly finding it difficult to decide.

Victor stepped forward and placed his hands on the priest’s shoulders, looking him straight in the eyes. “My friend, His Holiness the Pope is not in a good position. He has had to give up many dioceses. Anything he supports, someone will oppose; anything he opposes, someone will support! If you report the Mutual Aid Association, many people will fight with His Holiness for the merit. If they fail to get it, they will suppress him even more ferociously. In the end, you will be the one to suffer… and me.”

Victor released his grip and said lightly, “I designed the tenant system to coordinate with His Holiness’s refugee resettlement efforts. The simplest and most effective way to solve the tenants’ self-redemption problem is polygamy. The Randell Fief currently has over three thousand bachelors. Even with a two-wife system, the number of bachelors would increase to over twenty thousand. You can take these thirty thousand bachelors away; I don’t want them! And what lord would dare to accept tens of thousands of bachelors at once?”

“Furthermore, the treatment of tenants is not much different from that of my liege’s subjects. If my subjects can have two wives, and tenants also have two wives, what will my subjects and vassals think? Isn’t that asking for my own downfall?”

Father Dayn laughed awkwardly and praised, “Heh, Victor, your design for the Mutual Aid Association and vouchers is very clever. I think there’s no need to change it.”

“I think so too…”

Victor rubbed his smooth chin, his expression serious as he nodded. “Dayn, for you, this is both a risk and an opportunity! Do you understand? His Holiness Clement has hundreds of attendant-students. If you want to stand out, you must produce results that command respect! If you win great prestige within the Church, His Holiness Clement’s pressure will be lessened. And the first person he will promote is you!”

“Even if someone wants to suppress you and steal your merit… could your situation get any worse?” Victor looked at Dayn with a pitying gaze.

“Right now, you are merely the assistant to the resident priest of the Randell Fief.”

Dayn’s face instantly turned ashen. Victor continued coldly, “Old man Miller doesn’t manage anything… The lord and the priest need to support each other. You support me, and I will support you. The higher your position becomes, the more help you can be to me. The farther I go, the stronger my support for you will be.”

“Get this done, and we will be the closest of allies.”

The heat in Father Dayn’s eyes gradually intensified, burning like a flame. He nodded gravely. “Alright! Let’s establish the Mutual Aid Association first!”

Chapter 488: All Kinds of Marvels

By the end of the second month of the Season of Fire, the people of Randell Fief welcomed the annual three-day Carnival. The fierce sun could not dampen the passion in people’s hearts as tens of thousands flooded into Laketon, filling its streets and alleys. A joyous atmosphere permeated the young town.

In fact, this year’s Randell Carnival was only the second one, the same age as Laketon itself. Many people speculated about the true purpose behind House of Randell spending real gold and silver to let the lower-class people revel. Some even believed the Randell Carnival was merely a sudden whim of the Viscount and would not last. But the subjects of Randell Fief would proudly tell them that the Carnival would continue forever, because the noble Viscount Randell himself had said:

“The people have watered this town with their sweat, so it must bring them joy and happiness.”

I have sweated for this town, I have watched it grow day by day, and it brings me joy. This is my town, my home… The lively atmosphere of the Carnival ignited the sense of belonging and accomplishment hidden deep within their hearts.

Outsiders could not understand this sentiment, nor could the subjects of Randell Fief articulate it clearly. But they were truly happy and joyful.

During the Carnival, the merchants of Randell Fief had stocked up on goods in advance, selling them at half the usual price. Inns and taverns prepared an abundance of cheap food and fine wine, and the Administrative Hall invited more than twenty song-and-dance troupes and circuses to Laketon for public performances. The women shopped extravagantly in the market; the men lingered in taverns and inns, drinking fine wine and talking boisterously; the children watched the rare song-and-dance, acrobatics, and animal taming shows for free. They stood on tiptoe or rode on their fathers’ shoulders, shrieking with laughter, their little hands red from clapping without feeling any pain.

However, the most talked-about topic this year was not how cheap the goods and wine were, nor how splendid the troupe performances were, nor even the damned Fishman War, but rather the Mutual Aid Association, the Mutual Aid Vouchers, and three incredibly lucky bastards.

“Did you hear? Three grand prizes were hit today! That guy Mike bought two vouchers with the same number and took home four thousand Copper Sols all by himself!”

“Four thousand Copper Sols? For real?”

“I saw it with my own eyes! The three of them were up on the stage collecting their prizes, each one stuffing his pockets with a full bag of silver coins…”

“I know that kid Mike. We came to Randell Fief in the same batch. I was assigned to George Village, and he went south to build the fortress… I shouted his name from below the stage when he was getting his prize, but he didn’t hear me… There were too many people, it was louder than a goose pen.”

“Haha, even if he heard you, he would’ve pretended not to. He was probably afraid you’d ask to borrow money…”

“I’m a married man now, why would I be asking him for money? If he can win a grand prize, so can I… Too many people were buying vouchers today. I’ll buy one tomorrow when I go back to George Village. I’ve already thought of the numbers.”

“So, did you win anything this time?”

“I hit the smallest prize with three consecutive numbers, good for six Copper Sols… I should have bought a few more. It’s all my wife’s fault for being so stingy, only letting me buy one.”

The moment Sykes stepped into the tavern, he was hit by a deafening roar of noise, but every patron’s discussion was related to “Mutual Aid Vouchers” and “winning.”

This tavern’s business was booming. The small space was divided into two levels and crammed with over twenty tables, each one full, with a ring of customers who couldn’t find a seat standing around them.

Perhaps it was because of Sykes’s distinct attire—he wore a long-sleeved fine linen shirt, while the patrons inside were all in sleeveless vests, exposing their hairy, powerful arms. Among this crowd of rough, burly men, Sykes appeared respectable and out of place, immediately drawing the attention of the tavern owner.

“Come on, you lot, show some of the generosity of Randell’s subjects and make way for this handsome young outsider,” the tavern owner said, tugging the grey towel around his neck as he waved for two burly men at the bar to make room.

Sykes squeezed through the crowd and stood at the bar. Before he could even speak, the tavern owner poured him a small cup of purplish-red liquid.

“This one’s on the house.”

The sweet and sour taste immediately conquered Sykes’s palate. He set the cup down and said politely, “Thank you. Could I have another? I’ll pay.”

“A large mug is three Copper Sols, a medium is one Copper Sol and five pennies, and a small cup like that is seven pennies… I also have a two-year-old Purple Cane wine, double the price. Which one would you like, guest?” the tavern owner asked solicitously.

Sykes hesitated for a moment, then smiled shyly. “I can’t really hold my liquor… I’ll have a small cup of the two-year-old Purple Cane wine.”

“Can’t hold your liquor? Then what are you doing in a tavern?”

A brawny, ugly-looking man nearby sized Sykes up with a vulture-like gaze. The more he looked at this pretty boy, the more he disliked him.

“You’re a male actor from a song-and-dance troupe, aren’t you? Kicked out by the girls in your troupe, I bet?” the tavern owner said with a grin as he handed Sykes the small cup of Purple Cane wine and took two Copper Sols from his hand.

Sykes lowered his head and took a sip of the wine to hide his embarrassment. The ugly man, however, pressed the tavern owner, “How did you know this pretty boy was kicked out by the girls in his troupe?”

“You ignorant bumpkin. The pretty girls in the troupes have to do business at night, it’s not convenient to have outsiders around,” the tavern owner said, casting a disdainful glance at the ugly man.

“Do business at night? Not convenient to have outsiders around…”

The ugly man had a sudden realization. He threw an arm around Sykes’s neck and asked with a provocative smile, “Which troupe are you from? How many girls are in your troupe? Name your price… I’ll go sleep with one of your girls too.”

“It’s a solo performance,” Sykes mumbled in his defense, looking at the tavern owner with pleading eyes.

“Get your filthy hands off my customer.”

The tavern owner once again tugged the grey towel around his neck and counted out six Copper Pennies for Sykes. A look of fear appeared on the ugly man’s face. He let go of Sykes and grumbled, “I’m your customer too…”

“You cheapskate. Before the Copper Penny was in circulation, I never saw you patronize any tavern. Now every time you come for a drink, you only order a small, four-penny cup of Purple Cane wine and can’t bear to spend a single extra Copper Sol,” the tavern owner scolded.

The ugly man’s face grew even uglier. The patrons at the bar roared with laughter, though some laughed a bit unnaturally. Realizing his words had offended a group of people, the tavern owner quickly tried to smooth things over with a pleasant expression. “Do you have any idea how much it costs to sleep with a troupe girl for a night? At least twenty silver coins… Are they for people like us to have fun with? If you have money, you should save it. The proper thing to do is to hurry up and get married.”

The patrons nodded in agreement. Someone said with a woeful face, “The inducement fee for a wife has gone up again… They’re asking for fifteen Gold Sols over in Wildwillow City. Even if I don’t eat or drink, I’ll have to save my wages for twelve years to afford that.”

“In your dreams… Aren’t men with wives and kids already rushing over to our Randell Fief on their own? The inducement fee to buy a woman from Wildwillow City is only going to get more and more expensive!”

The ugly man slammed his empty cup on the table and shouted, “I’ve figured it out now! I’ll eat what I want, drink what I want, and buy a Mutual Aid Voucher every single time. If I’m lucky enough to hit a few grand prizes, I’ll ask an Aide to help me find a wife in Randell Fief. If I don’t win, I’ll just consider it as helping someone else get married first… If all else fails, I’ll sign up for The Swamp Scouts. After serving three years, I’ll have everything… Besides, with the Mutual Aid Association, even if I get maimed, someone will take care of me.”

“Mutual aid… we help each other out.”

“Owner, another one!” The ugly man pulled out four Copper Pennies and slapped them heavily on the bar.

The tavern owner deftly scooped up the Copper Pennies and refilled the ugly man’s small cup from a large jug. The transactions were small, but there were many of them. The tavern never used to have this many customers.

Others followed suit, each one “generously” pulling out Copper Pennies. The tavern owner’s face instantly lit up with a smile.

Sykes held the six Copper Pennies in his palm, observing them carefully before looking up to ask, “Owner, this is my first time seeing Copper Pennies… How does the exchange work? Can they be used elsewhere?”

“Ten Copper Pennies for one Copper Sol. Any shop in Laketon or Wildwillow City will exchange them for you.”

Sykes nodded, then asked meekly, “Why did my small cup of Purple Cane wine cost seven Copper Pennies, while they only pay four?”

The surrounding crowd burst into laughter. The ugly man clapped the young actor on the shoulder and said smugly, “Because you’re an outsider, not one of the Randall family, so you don’t get the Carnival discount.”

“For our noble Master, for our House of Randell, for our Laketon, we celebrate here!” the ugly man shouted, raising his cup. The other patrons cheered in response, and the tavern’s atmosphere was instantly pushed to a climax.

After the tavern owner and his staff had refilled the cups at every table and returned to the bar, Sykes seized the opportunity to ask, “Owner, what’s this about the Mutual Aid Association and Mutual Aid Vouchers? Could you explain it to an outsider like me?”

The tavern owner spoke with great enthusiasm, “Mutual aid, it’s about helping each other! We buy Mutual Aid Vouchers from the Mutual Aid Association, and the Association uses that money to help the old, weak, sick, and disabled…”

“You can win a grand prize with a voucher! That’s the Supreme Lord’s reward for our self-redemption!”

“There are small and medium prizes too, also blessings from the Supreme Lord!”

“One number on a voucher costs three Copper Sols. The grand prize is at least two thousand Copper Sols, with no upper limit…”

Everyone chimed in, rushing to explain. Sykes gradually began to understand. He pointed to his own nose and asked, “Can an outsider like me buy a Mutual Aid Voucher?”

The tavern owner and the patrons exchanged glances. He said hesitantly, “Well… I really don’t know about that.”

“You can! You definitely can!” a patron declared loudly. “The Supreme Lord teaches us that every believer should seek self-redemption… As long as you’re a believer of the Lord, you can buy a voucher!”

“That’s right! You definitely can. Praise the Supreme Lord.”

“Praise the Supreme Lord,” Sykes said, making a faint holy symbol. He looked up and asked, “If I win, how would I redeem my prize?”

“Well…” The tavern owner scratched the back of his head and said thoughtfully, “The voucher prizes are drawn once a week. If you stay here until the weekend, you’ll naturally be able to redeem it.”

He didn’t consider whether a song-and-dance troupe would be able to stay in Laketon for a whole week.

The young actor smiled and nodded. “Then I’ll go buy a Mutual Aid Voucher tomorrow and try my luck.”

The next day, beside the church in the west district of Laketon, Sykes squeezed through a long queue and bought a Mutual Aid Voucher. He clutched the black piece of paper, a smile touching the corners of his lips, his eyes gentle, and murmured to himself, “A marvelous Laketon, a marvelous Lord Randal, a marvelous Mutual Aid Voucher…”

Three days later, all the song-and-dance troupes and circuses that had participated in the Laketon Carnival left Randell Fief. They spread the news of Randell Fief’s various marvels throughout the kingdoms.

Four months later, the Mutual Aid Voucher that Sykes had bought appeared on the desk of the Regent of Gambis.

Williams Auguste put down the report compiled by the Night Owl spies and picked up the black piece of paper. His gaze swept over Princess Royal Roland, Marquess Golan, and Queen Mother Catherine, finally landing on the new Grand Vizier, Marquess Ludwig. He smiled and said, “Just five days ago, a lucky fellow in Wildwillow City hit twenty-one grand prizes at once, taking home a prize of sixty thousand Copper Sols. Laketon paid it out in full… The next day, the number of people buying Mutual Aid Vouchers in Wildwillow City exceeded two thousand. On the third day, it exceeded four thousand. On the fourth day, the gangs of Vistock found Lame John in Wildwillow City, wanting to participate in Randell Fief’s Mutual Aid Vouchers through his channels… On a side note, Lame John is Viscount Randell’s agent in Wildwillow City… And just yesterday, Goldwater City invited Bishop Pello to discuss the matter of the Mutual Aid Association and its vouchers.”

“Viscount Randell has leveraged an unimaginable amount of wealth and power with a small piece of paper. The scope and speed of its influence are truly breathtaking.” Williams leaned back in his chair and sighed, then looked up, a brilliant smile revealing his perfectly white teeth.

“It is now necessary for us to have an in-depth discussion about Victor’s various measures concerning the tenant system and the Mutual Aid Association!”

Chapter 489: Following Suit

Marquess Ludwig pulled a thick stack of black paper slips from his pocket, each bearing a number in white digits. He took one out, held it to a candle flame, and lit it. The black paper caught, producing an orange flame. When the fire reached the white number, it flared an indigo blue, the orange flame wrapping around the indigo. A unique, acrid odor spread through the air.

“The Randell Mutual Aid Vouchers cannot be counterfeited.”

Marquess Ludwig dropped the nearly burnt-out slip of black paper, then waved the thick stack of vouchers in his hand. “Currently, very few people know how to make paper, let alone imitate this special paper and dye. In the beginning, when Viscount Randell first ordered craftsmen to make paper from wheat straw, everyone thought he was just trying to process the straw into fuel that could be stored for a long time. Later, the Viscount forced the refugee workers to use the paper to wipe… ah, for personal hygiene. To teach the refugees about cleanliness, the paper and soap in the Randell Fief were compulsorily used to offset a portion of the refugee workers’ wages. The noble circles believed this was simply a part of Viscount Randell’s nature—his love for clean and beautiful things. Some even mocked that his mysophobia was so severe he would even meddle in the personal hygiene of refugees… Looking at it now, it’s clear Viscount Randell had a plan all along.”

The Regent spoke up, “And what is our Viscount Randell planning?”

“Wait, let me see your Mutual Aid Vouchers first.”

Princess Royal Roland darted over to the new Grand Vizier’s side and snatched the vouchers from his hand. Her beautiful, large eyes curved into crescents as she asked gleefully, “Wow, so many… Are there any winners? Are there any winners?”

“I had my attendant buy four hundred Mutual Aid Vouchers in Wildwillow City. I won fifty-two small prizes and seven medium prizes…” Marquess Ludwig shook his head with a wry smile. “Although the winnings were minuscule, I was still delighted when I found out I’d won. One of my vouchers was only a single digit away from the grand prize… I wrung my hands and sighed, unable to resist the urge to keep buying. Even I, a Court Marquess, couldn’t stop thinking about the two-thousand-Copper-Sol prize. You can imagine how much of a draw these vouchers must be for the poor.”

Marquess Ludwig paused, then said with a sigh, “Viscount Randell is so young, yet his grasp of human psychology is so precise… it’s almost frightening.”

The stack of vouchers was suddenly thrust under his nose, shaken, and then quickly pulled back. Roland clutched the vouchers, rustling them loudly, her eyes shining as she asked, “Are the winning vouchers in here? Who do I see in Wildwillow City to redeem the prizes?”

The Eldest Princess of Gambis already considered these vouchers her own.

“Your Highness, Roland Auguste, we are discussing important matters,” Marquess Golan reminded her in a low voice.

“Old man, winning a prize and redeeming it is also an important matter,” Roland said righteously, lifting her incomparably beautiful face.

Seeing the two were about to argue, Catherine skillfully smoothed things over. “Dear Roland,” she said in a gentle tone, “may I see the Mutual Aid Vouchers Victor invented?”

Roland returned to her seat and handed the vouchers to Catherine. She propped her chin on her hands and pouted, “I want to win a grand prize, too.”

Her charmingly naive and girlish demeanor made one want to indulge her every whim. Marquess Ludwig, as if speaking to his most beloved granddaughter, said, “Your Highness, the probability of winning the grand prize is one in ten million—practically nil. As for the medium and small prizes, they are fifteen and six Copper Sols respectively. The winnings are pitifully small, so it hardly matters whether you claim them or not. Of course, there’s no need to claim the grand prize either.”

“So you didn’t claim them?”

Roland’s eyes, as beautiful as a turquoise lake, immediately began to sparkle. A wide smile spread across her face as she said, “Then I’ll go claim them.”

Marquess Ludwig said with a苦笑, “They’re useless now… The vouchers have a seventy-two-day period for redemption, after which they expire. I bought these over two and a half months ago.”

Greatly disappointed, Roland flopped listlessly onto the table and grumbled, “Victor is so cunning.”

“Extremely cunning,” Williams nodded repeatedly. “I’ve read the spy’s report. Twenty percent of the proceeds from selling the vouchers goes to distribution costs, forty percent goes into the prize pool, and the remaining forty percent belongs to the Mutual Aid Association. Victor is exchanging paper slips for money; it’s a gambling business with colossal profits and no risk of loss.”

Catherine lowered her head and secretly curled her tempting red lips.

Hmph, cunning? That’s wisdom.

“Viscount Randell wastes his ingenuity on lower-class people just to earn a little pocket change. What a waste of his intelligence and talent.”

Marquess Golan shook his head in disapproval, his expression one of regret.

A Copper Sol was just a Copper Sol. One million Copper Sols were only worth 772 Gold Sols. The annual fiscal revenue of the House of Randell exceeded fifty thousand Gold Sols, so why would Victor bother with this?

“Your Highness Golan, this is no small amount of money.”

Marquess Ludwig said with a grave expression, “The Randell Mutual Aid Vouchers have already spread to Goldwater City, Copper City, and Vistock. Even in the outer district of Brinol, refugee gangs are imitating the vouchers and setting up their own gambling businesses. However, the materials they use for the numbers are very easy to counterfeit, so their businesses have never managed to take off. In effect, Viscount Randell has monopolized the voucher gambling market with his black paper, forming an entire industry. Take the Wellington family’s Vistock for example. The local gangs there charge the refugees four Copper Sols per slip, collecting the stake money and writing down the numbers. Then they send the numbers to Wildwillow City to purchase the actual Randell Mutual Aid Vouchers. Besides collecting a commission of one Copper Sol on each number, they also take a ten-percent share of any prize money.”

“If Minsk County, the Royal Capital of Brinol, Joshua’s Deepwater City, and Nim’s Ojibwa weren’t so far from Wildwillow City, the Randell Mutual Aid Vouchers would have already covered the entire Kingdom of Gambis… Even so, the vouchers have reached a population of over a million. Lord Randell’s weekly income from selling vouchers is at least eight hundred thousand Copper Sols!” At this, Marquess Ludwig held up his right index finger and stressed, “That’s eight hundred thousand Copper Sols a week… a minimum of three million two hundred thousand Copper Sols a month.”

“Based on the forty percent profit margin of the vouchers, Viscount Randell can pull one million two hundred eighty thousand Copper Sols from the pockets of the common people every month just with slips of paper.”

“And what can one million two hundred eighty thousand Copper Sols do?”

Marquess Ludwig took a step forward, facing Marquess Golan. “I personally visited the shantytowns of Brinol and investigated the living conditions of the refugees. An able-bodied refugee worker can earn about six Copper Sols a day, which is two hundred sixteen Copper Sols a month. With one million two hundred eighty thousand Copper Sols, Viscount Randell can hire six thousand able-bodied refugees. These are the attendants the Mutual Aid Association needs.”

Golan looked at Marquess Ludwig in surprise for a few seconds before nodding in admiration. “The Grand Vizier of the great Kingdom of Gambia personally dealing with lower-class people… It must have been difficult for you.”

Ludwig shook his head. “All of Viscount Randell’s administrative measures are related to the lower-class people. As Grand Vizier, I certainly can’t keep putting on the airs of a noble master anymore… In truth, he didn’t spend a single Copper Sol; he had the refugees pay to support several thousand of his Mutual Aid Association employees. Compared to his methods and intellect, I am truly humbled.”

“Grand Vizier Ludwig.”

Queen Mother Catherine’s eyes held a trace of anger as she asked coolly, “From the way you’re speaking, are you implying the Mutual Aid Association and the Mutual Aid Vouchers weren’t Viscount Randell’s idea?”

Marquess Ludwig pondered for a moment before bowing. “Your Majesty, Viscount Randell is brilliant, but he is only twenty-four years old and has been a lord for just six years. His manipulation of human psychology is so masterful, don’t you find it contrary to common sense? The announcement from Brinol Cathedral stated that the Randell Mutual Aid Association was established by Father Dayn. Considering Father Dayn’s relationship with His Holiness the Pontiff, I believe His Eminence Clement must be the one orchestrating this from the shadows. Only a priest could understand the mentality of the refugees so well.”

“You know nothing about Victor!” Catherine sneered, turning her head away in disdain, the corners of her lips curled up slightly, her eyes filled with tenderness and pride.

“I can understand a high-ranking female knight having a certain fondness for Viscount Randell,” Marquess Ludwig said, his expression unchanged.

“Alright, we’ve strayed from the topic.”

Williams stood up with a smile. “Lord Ludwig, you said earlier that Victor had a plan all along. What is he planning?”

“They had a plan all along.”

The new Grand Vizier explained with a calm expression, “Sylvia, Clement, and Viscount Randell are planning a new system. The goal is to help Clement secure his position on the Pontiff’s throne. This system is too ingenious and brilliant to have been conceived by the young Viscount Randell. Otherwise, his wisdom would be comparable to that of the noblewoman Arya, the founder of the Silver Spire. And the biggest beneficiary of this system is the Church.”

Williams said, displeased, “Lord Ludwig, do you truly not believe in Victor’s wisdom? Or are you opposing my implementation of the tenant system?”

Marquess Ludwig spoke respectfully, “Your Highness, I do not oppose your plan for a ‘virtual fief’ system. After all, there are far too many apprentice knights from Aerie Fortress who need to be settled… However, we must consider the actual situation in Auguste.”

“If we carefully study Viscount Randell’s tenant system, it’s not hard to see that his ultimate goal is still to turn refugees into his subjects. The tenant households in the Centaur Hills enjoy the same treatment as his subjects. Their children receive a primary education in the schools for general education, after which the best are selected and trained to become mercenary soldiers and skilled craftsmen. After serving the lord for twenty-five years, these mercenary soldiers and craftsmen can become subjects. For this, Sylvia and Victor have paid a heavy price.”

“The treatment of tenants and subjects is almost identical: they keep a thirty-percent share of the harvest and perform four months of labor service a year. Victor and Sylvia have simply given up thirty percent of their income for nothing. And the mercenary army is a bottomless pit that can never be filled… Victor has an annual revenue of fifty thousand Gold Sols, yet he still has to rack his brains to squeeze money from the refugees’ pockets. This shows just how strained the finances of House Randell are.” Marquess Ludwig shook his head and continued, “The combat effectiveness of the mercenary army is a complete joke. They suffered over four hundred casualties just fighting Fishmen; they’re worse than our militia.”

Marquess Golan lifted his eyelids slightly and said calmly, “Our militia are all trained to the standard of elite soldiers. The mercenaries of House Randell have only been undergoing formal training for two years, so of course they can’t compare to militia who have trained for over a decade. From what I know, the performance of the Randell Fief’s mercenary legion has greatly improved, almost reaching the level of ordinary vassal soldiers. Naturally, the feeble Fishmen are no measure of a soldier’s upper limits. However, in a pioneer war, we will have a great need for such a mercenary army to assist the Imperial Guard in combat, as well as to construct defensive fortifications, roads, and bridges, transport supplies, conduct patrols, and cultivate the land.”

“At the same time, I have high hopes for the virtual fief system,” Marquess Golan said, his eyes half-closed, saying no more.

Ludwig nodded. “The virtual fief system is of course excellent. It allows our knights to focus on military affairs and saves them from spending all their vigor on their fiefs. The tenant system is the foundation of the virtual fief system, but the precondition for the tenant system is the availability of land. When Viscount Randell first began to develop his fief, he had neither people nor money, only land. His tenant system was born from that.”

“We have money and people, but we lack the land to settle the tenants.”

“According to the statistics from the Ministry of Internal Affairs, the refugee population in the central and northern parts of Gambis exceeds nine hundred thousand. I have divided these refugees into rural refugees and urban refugees. The rural refugees, who occupy the arable land, number close to four hundred thousand. The remaining five hundred thousand are urban refugees. Meanwhile, Auguste’s registered subjects currently number over seven hundred thousand, an increase of over one hundred thousand from six years ago. I am taking measures to encourage our subjects to have more children. In another fifteen years, the Ministry of Internal Affairs projects that the number of registered subjects will exceed one million, and the size of the Imperial Guard can be tripled! The prerequisite for all of this is that the rural refugees must make way for our registered subjects to procreate and develop.”

Marquess Ludwig paused, then said to the Regent with sincerity, “Your Highness, there is no need to rush the implementation of the virtual fief system. We can drive the rural refugees to the Centaur Hills, and we still have hundreds of thousands of urban refugees to deal with. We have already mastered the details of the tenant system. Once the Imperial Guard has pioneered a large expanse of land on the Southern Continent, we can immediately implement the virtual fief system. Otherwise, our finances will be crippled by the tenant system, and our registered subjects will become disillusioned with Auguste.”

Williams leaned back in his chair and let out a frustrated breath. Marquess Golan broke the silence, nodding. “The Grand Vizier’s opinion is most pertinent.”

“You said Victor had no people, no money, only land… This lord, with no vassals, no wealth, and exceptionally young, took only six years to establish the House of Randell, possessing two castles, one hundred and twenty thousand subjects, a mercenary legion of over three thousand men, a million mu of farmland, several million mu of pasture, and an annual income of fifty thousand Gold Sols.”

Roland’s voice was cold as she asked, “I ask you, who could achieve this? Sylvia couldn’t. Auguste couldn’t. Not a single lord could. But Victor did… and he not only did it, he created a new system. Do you know how he did it?”

“In Victor’s eyes, there is no wealth, no land, and no people. He sees land, wealth, and the populace as one and the same. Therefore, he gives land to the refugees, he gives wealth to the refugees, and he sees the refugees themselves as wealth. This is a magnanimity and vision that other lords cannot even imagine.”

“His magnanimity and vision surpass that of any lord, any noble scholar, and even that of the noblewoman Arya. Otherwise, he could never have accomplished all this!”

Roland shook her head and sighed with emotion, “Sigh, as expected of my one and only student.”

Marquess Ludwig stared, dumbfounded, at the narcissistic princess. Williams laughed heartily. “Roland, don’t you have many students? How did Victor become your only one?”

“I don’t recall having many students.” Roland looked from side to side in confusion, then lifted her chin and said proudly, “A princess as beautiful and intelligent as me, of course everyone wants to be my student. Uncle, have you been deceived by someone?”

“You are my student,” Marquess Golan stated flatly.

Roland glared at Marquess Golan, but was distracted by a sharp intake of breath. She turned to see Catherine, whose eyes were practically shooting flames.

“Roland Auguste, you read the letters Victor wrote to me!”

Roland quickly waved her hands in denial. “I absolutely did not peek at the love letters Victor wrote to you. If you don’t believe me, go check the hidden compartment in the Moonlight Wood wardrobe in the bedroom. I guarantee not a single one is missing.”

Catherine shot Roland a hateful glare, then stood up and walked towards the door. Before leaving, she turned back and said, “I will not ask Victor any questions in my letters, nor has he asked me about anything. What I can tell you, I will not hide. What I cannot tell you, do not ask me.”

Once the sound of Catherine’s footsteps had faded down the corridor, Williams leaned over and whispered to Roland, “Did Victor really not mention anything about Wildwillow City in his letters?”

Marquess Golan and Marquess Ludwig both pricked up their ears, but Roland simply shook her head. The Regent, the Guardian, and the Grand Vizier all looked dejected.

Sylvia’s pull on Victor was too strong; Catherine alone really couldn’t compete with her.

“What are you looking at me for?” Roland’s fierce glare forced the three men to turn away.

“Ahem.” Marquess Ludwig cleared his throat and asked, “Your Highness, would you be able to… transcribe Viscount Randell’s letters for me to see?”

“What do you think? Heh, heh, heh… In your dreams.”

With a string of peculiar laughs, the Eldest Princess of Gambis tilted her head high and sauntered out of the small conference room with the grace of a cat.

Williams knocked on the table and said to Marquess Ludwig, “We don’t have the conditions to implement the tenant system for now, but the mercenary legion is something I am determined to have. We will first form a small-scale legion to gain experience and train a core cadre. Also, we will do whatever Victor does. He’s stockpiling charcoal, so we’ll stockpile charcoal. He’s purchasing soft silver ore and building an inner town wall, so we’ll also procure some soft silver ore from lords of other kingdoms and keep it in reserve. The methods must be subtle, so as not to attract attention.”

Marquess Golan nodded. “I agree.”

“As you wish, Your Highness,” Marquess Ludwig said with a bow.

“As for the Mutual Aid Association and the Mutual Aid Vouchers…” Williams stroked the handsome mustache on his upper lip and smiled meaningfully. “Clement has been put on the spot by Victor… Once he has won or lost against the other two Patriarchs, we will then coordinate with the Church and establish our own Mutual Aid Association.”

“The Mutual Aid Association is flawless and its implementation is inevitable. It just remains to be seen which Patriarch will get the merit for it.”

Marquess Ludwig shook his head and sighed. “If the Mutual Aid Association and the vouchers really are Victor’s creations… I honestly don’t know if he is a lord or a clergyman.”

A sharp glint flashed in Marquess Golan’s eyes as he nodded. “This Excellency of ours is truly formidable.”

The three core figures of Auguste exchanged a smile, everything understood without a word.

Chapter 490: Naville’s Trouble

Of all the royal cathedrals, Keggston Cathedral in the royal city of Naville was the shortest, and also the most expensive. Its entire body was constructed from precious white-glazed rock, while its towering bell tower was made of the even rarer yellow-glazed rock. When dusk fell and twilight shrouded the skies of Naville’s capital, Keggston Cathedral would glow with a magnificent, ethereal light in the sunset’s afterglow. The seven-ton purple-gold great bell would swing back and forth, its melodious toll ringing throughout all of Keggston. People would stop in their tracks and look up, their eyes immediately captivated by the purple-gold gleam at the top of the bell tower.

The style of Keggston Cathedral was just like the taste of Naville’s Nobles—opulence, opulence, and more opulence.

Naville was dense with mountains and forests, crisscrossed by ravines, and rich in various ores, timber, beast hides, and rare spices and medicinal herbs. But to say that every lord in Naville was rolling in wealth was certainly a rumor. In fact, Naville’s minor lords were generally quite strapped for cash. However, when all the Knight-Nobles of the kingdom gathered in the city of Keggston, the trend of flaunting wealth became rampant, naturally creating the most luxurious royal city in all the human kingdoms.

Fildera Rex stood in the resplendent reception room of the cathedral. His short, inch-long golden hair stood on end, making him look energetic and cheerful. His laughter was hearty and highly infectious.

“Your Holiness, the tenant system and the Mutual Aid Association are truly marvelous designs! With this merit alone, you are certain to leave your mark on the history of the Church and the kingdoms. I believe even the noblewoman Arya would marvel at your wisdom.”

Clement, dressed in a white robe, sat in his chair and looked at the King of Naville with a gentle gaze. He nodded. “You are right. The one who created the tenant system possesses wisdom and vision in no way inferior to Priestess Arya. But that person was not me.”

“I know, I know.”

A knowing smile appeared on Rex’s face. “The tenant system was created by the Queen of Roses’ lover. You merely established a new system for missionary work based on it. If Frieders and Tamor want to make an issue out of the tenant system and the Mutual Aid Association, they’ll have to ask the Queen of Roses for permission first.”

King Rex did not believe Clement’s claim that Viscount Randell had established the tenant system and the Mutual Aid Association.

The tenant system and the Mutual Aid Association were ingeniously designed, rigorous, and complete, encompassing both governmental and church affairs while perfectly integrating with the vassalage system. After careful study, the Royal Family’s scholars in Naville unanimously agreed that this brand-new system was built upon the foundation of New Agro-husbandry, serving as an extension and evolution of the vassalage system. It held incomparable guiding significance for the era of the great expansion. Its historical status was certain to surpass that of the vassalage system.

At the end of the Silver Age, the city-state to which the noblewoman Arya belonged was breached by beastmen. A young Arya was separated from her family and followed the tide of refugees south. Alone, she drifted from place to place, tasting the full bitterness of the human world. At the age of twenty-nine, she formally became a noble priestess. After the wars in the north subsided, the noble priests lost their real power and were all transferred by the Holy See to the Kingdom of Ayr, where they specialized in training priests and Sacred Warriors. At the age of forty-two, Arya spent twenty-two years at the Ivory Sanctum, poring over books, studying history and doctrine, and cultivating in seclusion before she proposed the vassalage system.

At that time, the noblewoman Arya was sixty-four years old.

And how old was Viscount Randell? A young viscount of twenty-four, a lord for only six years, could surpass the founder of the Silver Spire, the cornerstone of the Bronze Age? He hadn’t even received a scholar’s education at the Silver Spire.

Perhaps Viscount Randell had unintentionally discovered the advantages of deep plowing and careful cultivation, pioneering New Agro-husbandry and water projects, but inventing agricultural and water management techniques was entirely different from constructing a political system. Moreover, lords were not versed in church affairs. Only the resident priests worried about such things for the lords. There had never been a lord who would go to such lengths to help a priest achieve Redemption for refugees.

Were tithes paid for nothing?

Governance and preaching belonged to different domains. Even if Viscount Randell had the leisure and interest, he lacked the ability to design the Mutual Aid Association.

In Randell Fief, the Mutual Aid Association and its vouchers might just be a topic of casual conversation for the nobility, but within the Church, they had already stirred up a massive storm. The Kingdom of Naville had always been close to the Pope’s faction of priests, and Rex and Clement were on excellent personal terms. He could understand the importance of the Mutual Aid Association system to the Church.

The poor’s faith in the Lord of Radiance was more devout than the rich’s, the elderly more so than the young, the sick more than the healthy, refugees more than the liege’s subjects, and the liege’s subjects more than vassals. The refugee population, being both poor and weak, had always been the primary target of the Church’s relief aid, but they were not the main providers of the power of faith.

The church formations that collected the power of faith were in fixed locations, while refugees wandered from place to place without a permanent home. Most of the power of faith generated by their prayers went to waste. It was like Naville’s plan to absorb one million refugees from the Kingdom of Sus and the Sasan Empire, organizing four hundred thousand able-bodied men to build large-scale water projects. The workers quarried stone and built roads in the barren mountains and wildlands, dug earth for canals, and set up camps to rest. There were no churches around, so they could only pray on their own. Although Clement had dispatched some priests to follow the work crews, organize the faithful for prayer, and use white crystals to collect holy power, this work was limited by the shortage of both priests and white crystals. Compared to the power of faith wasted from the workers’ spontaneous prayers, the effect of the white crystals was better than nothing. And compared to the entire refugee population across the human kingdoms, Naville’s four hundred thousand workers were just the tip of the iceberg.

For the Church, the more devout believers, the better, of course, but a stable community of believers was even more important. This was the fundamental reason why resident priests favored the registered subjects.

The Church had always encouraged refugees to settle down and urged lords to accept them as much as possible. The practical contradiction was that wherever refugees gathered, local food prices would gradually rise, and the cost of the Church’s relief aid would multiply. The registered subjects would be full of complaints, and the conflict between the two groups would intensify. High food prices often led to the refugees being the first to leave, and there was nothing the resident priest could do.

The tenant system, evolved from the new agropastoral system, could fundamentally solve the problem of refugee settlement. But the lords were not enthusiastic about it; they preferred to distribute newly developed land to their registered subjects. Furthermore, the pressure of providing relief aid to the tenant households was also becoming overwhelming for the Church.

The Mutual Aid Association and its vouchers from Randell Fief perfectly solved the problem of providing aid to the tenants.

The clergy were forbidden from engaging in secular business activities in any form. The tithes collected by the Church had to support the Temple Army, the Radiant Knights, and the Holy See’s Curia, as well as the preaching priests in various regions. The portion that could actually be used for aiding believers was very limited. Resident priests, on one hand, requested donations of grain and money from lords, Nobles, and wealthy believers, while on the other hand, they taught refugee believers about self-redemption to reduce the pressure on the Church’s relief aid.

The Mutual Aid Association raised funds by issuing Mutual Aid Vouchers to all social classes, hired attendants, aided the disabled, elderly, and weak in tenant households, and collected a portion of money and goods from the families to maintain the stable and orderly development of the tenant community. The Church and the lords completed the relief aid for the tenants without spending a single copper coin. Most crucially, the Church could organize the most devout groups—the elderly, weak, and disabled—to pray daily, constantly collecting holy power.

Was this not the ideal system of Redemption that the preaching priests sought?

Adjectives like “ingenious” and “brilliant” seemed pale and powerless before the tenant and mutual aid systems. “Great” should be its prefix! Besides Clement, who had the ability, who had the standing, to create such a great missionary system?

The problem was, Clement’s timing in introducing the mutual aid system was wrong.

Faced with such a monumental achievement, not to mention the three Patriarchs—Frieders, Tamor, and Clement—even the elders of every monastery, large and small, would have to step up to claim a piece of the pie. Through lengthy discussions, criticisms, suggestions, and accusations, they would revise and revise again, going in a large circle just to sign their names on the document of the mutual aid tenets.

Patriarch Frieders’s faction was attached to the Radiant Knights and would never hold the position of Pope. They had always acted as balancers, choosing allies between the other two patriarchal factions to prevent any one faction from growing too strong for too long. Clement’s faction had produced two consecutive Popes. For the next Pope to be a priest from Tamor’s faction was what served the Radiant Knights’ needs. Therefore, the Curia members from both factions joined forces to push Clement out of the pioneer sequence, assigning him to be solely responsible for the church affairs of migrating refugees and pacifying believers.

Currently, Clement had only three dioceses under his control. The Warton Great Plains diocese had no lord, so its political power was negligible. In the Centaur Hills diocese, Sylvia’s prestige was high, but the York family was not strong enough, and they were under the Kingdom of Gambia, making them barely a Dukedom. The Naville diocese was his only kingdom-level diocese, possessing five Gold Knights and dozens of High-ranked Knights, but Naville’s population was insufficient, and it relied on food imports. If this problem was not solved, Naville would have no ability to compete with the Sasan Empire for the pioneering rights to the Northern Wildlands.

It seemed hopeless for the priests of Clement’s faction to earn merit through pioneering. If the kingdoms made progress in developing their lands and began to implement the tenant system, and Clement then proposed the mutual aid system to solve the tenant relief problem, his faction of priests would gain sublime prestige and outstanding merit.

For Clement to present the mutual aid system now was tantamount to revealing his trump card prematurely, putting him in a very passive position. Frieders and Tamor had to get a share of the credit, even if they hadn’t earned it; otherwise, Tamor wouldn’t stand a chance.

The three Patriarchs chose to hold their secret meeting in Keggston Cathedral in the Kingdom of Naville precisely to first squeeze out the smaller factions within the Monastery Council of Elders before carving up the cake of the mutual aid system.

Rex guessed that the tenant system and the mutual aid system were actually both Clement’s inventions. He used Viscount Randell’s name mainly to borrow momentum from the Spirit Knight. In reality, House of Randell was a buffer in the wrestling match between the three Patriarchs.

This was a common political tactic used by lords and Archbishops.

As for why Clement chose to introduce the Mutual Aid Association and its vouchers at an inappropriate time? The King of Naville was also very puzzled.

Could it be that Clement saw that Grand Commander Testier intended to use Naville as a sacrifice? That he had to act early to help me out of a tight spot? That must be it… Our Kingdom of Naville is His Holiness’s greatest trump card!

Rex stroked his beloved beard, a smile on his face, perfectly displaying closeness and gratitude.

“Fildera… your smile is so fake.”

Tournans stood with his arms crossed, looking at the King of Naville with a blank expression. His shiny bald head reflected the light from the golden candelabra, appearing exceptionally dazzling in the reception room.

Oh, dear, how did I become friends with this ridiculously curious idiot? I’d rather face an Ogre Warlord than explain riddles to him… I am the King of Naville, not your Tutor… This is so foolish… Rex sighed inwardly, then put on a serious expression, spread his hands, and said, “I’m out of money… uh, alright, Naville’s water project has emptied my pockets.”

Tournans glanced at the four enormous element crystal rings on His Majesty Rex’s right hand and shook his head with a cold smile. “Didn’t Naville set aside twenty million Gold Sols for the water project? How are you out of money so quickly?”

“It was a bluff.”

Rex put his right hand behind his back and shrugged. “If I hadn’t said that, how could I have tricked the gold coins out of the lords’ hands? The ones who benefit from the water project are the lords below me. Why should I, the King, foot the bill? In reality, the budget for the water project is only four point eight million Gold Sols.”

“This budget was originally more than enough… According to the initial plan, we were to blast an opening in the Misty Mountains to the east, use the Kajimorsen Grand Canyon as a natural river channel to divert water from Lake Boer in the Twilight Forest, build a dam to store water and form a lake, and then build irrigation canals to water one hundred and eighty million mu of mountainous land in the kingdom’s south-central region, creating pastures, farmland, and terraced fields.”

“Who knew that the craftsmen would dig up a Core of the Earth at a key location in the Kajimorsen Grand Canyon…”

Rex waved his left hand and paced back and forth in the room before stopping, saying in frustration, “That thing is a manifestation of the earth element, connected to the earth itself. You can’t break it, and you can’t move it! We can only wait for it to disintegrate naturally, which might take a few days, or a few decades… Now the entire project plan has to be revised!”

Realization dawned on Tournans. He rubbed his reflective head and said, “The project was revised, so you ran into that legendary Gnoll—Windfang?”

Rex’s face darkened as he said, “Windfang had vanished from the Twilight Forest for eight years. We all thought he had threatened Hogus’s position and been eliminated by the Gnoll King of the Twilight Forest. We never expected him to lead more than three hundred of his kin to the outskirts of the Misty Mountains. That day, Windfang was out hunting, and my soldiers mistook that band of Gnolls for an ordinary small tribe and wiped them out. When Windfang returned, he went berserk, attacking humans everywhere… That damned beast is too cunning. Their Highnesses Farul and Andalusia personally led a team to hunt him down, but after a month, they haven’t even touched a single hair on him!”

“Now, the workers are too scared to work, and the whole project has come to a standstill… I’m counting on you!” Rex patted his friend’s shoulder.

Tournans frowned and asked, “Is he a lone wolf now?”

“Yes. Otherwise, I wouldn’t need to ask for your help.”

“Tsk… a bit tricky.”

The First Sacred Warrior clicked his tongue and shook his head. “That beast runs faster than me… The key is that the Misty Mountains are too big. It won’t be easy for me to even run into him, let alone ambush him… I’ll do my best, but I can’t guarantee I’ll catch him.”

“Three months.”

Rex grabbed Tournans’s shoulder with his left hand, held up three fingers with his right, and said with wide eyes, “I’ll personally lead two hundred Sword Mantis Knights to assist you. I guarantee we’ll kill that beast in three months.”

Tournans looked at the element crystal rings on the King of Naville’s fingers and said with a grin, “You’re short on money…”

“These things can be exchanged for food, but the food will eventually be eaten. After the workers finish the food, they’ll still need to eat more.”

Rex shook his head with a bitter smile. “According to His Holiness the Pope’s request, Naville will build the kingdom’s water project within twenty years and take in a million refugees… We’ve now recruited one hundred and seventy thousand able-bodied workers, who, along with their families, make up four hundred and fifty thousand refugees. How could Naville’s stored grain possibly be enough? We have to purchase green wheat and meat. The grain shipped from the Sasan Empire by the Wimbledon Merchant Association and the Southwind Merchant Association is getting more and more expensive. The one hundred and seventy thousand refugee workers get two free meals a day, but they still have to feed their families. With the high price of grain, they’re clamoring for a wage increase. The daily wage of six Copper Sols has risen to eighteen Copper Sols. Just on wages, I have to pay out two thousand three hundred Gold Sols every day, which is one point two million Gold Sols a year. At this rate, the budget for the water project will be used up in less than four years…”

“I wrote a letter to Emperor Frederick of Sasan. I asked him, now that the Sasan Empire’s green wheat isn’t selling, why is it even more expensive than before?” Rex paused, then asked Tournans, “Do you know what he said in reply?”

“What did he say?” the First Sacred Warrior transformed into a curious child, his eyes shining.

“Frederick wrote back saying that Sasan’s green wheat used to be sold to three kingdoms, and now it’s only sold to Naville. I’ve already gotten a great deal, so of course the price has to go up!”

“Hmm, that makes sense…” Tournans nodded gravely, then immediately asked with renewed interest, “And how did you reply to him?”

“Reply?” Rex waved his hand sharply. “I directly doubled the price of raw iron and refined iron!”

“Good, that’s what you should have done!” Tournans laughed and slapped the King of Naville’s shoulder.

Rex said with a deadpan expression, “He doubled the price of grain as well.”

Tournans: “…”

“My father used to say, those who sell iron can’t win against those who sell grain.” Rex shook his head and said with a frown, “I just don’t get it… The York family is dirt poor, so how can they build water projects and become richer and richer?”

“I know the answer to that.” Tournans crossed his arms, cupped his chin, and said in a low voice, “The York family has Sylvia. Naville doesn’t even have a single female Gold Knight.”

“A Spirit Knight and a female Gold Knight can’t conjure food out of thin air,” Rex said, shaking his head with a laugh.

Tournans shot Rex a disdainful look and said flatly, “Sylvia has Victor.”

Rex was stunned for a moment, then turned his head and asked pensively, “Are the tenant system and the Mutual Aid Association truly Viscount Randell’s masterpiece?”

“It’s the absolute truth,” Clement said with a nod. “Victor Randell pioneered the New Agro-husbandry, explicitly proposed the tenant system and the Mutual Aid Association, and he is also proficient in water projects and architectural design. If you could invite him to help, I believe many complex problems would become simple.”

Rex’s eyes instantly grew profound. After a long period of thought, he looked up, his gaze burning, and said, “The mutual aid system can only be Your Holiness’s design!”

Clement gave a wry smile and said helplessly, “Now… it can only be my design.”

Rex nodded thoughtfully and said, “Whether I can invite Viscount Randell over or not, I’m going to implement the tenant system and the Mutual Aid Association… right now!”

“The priests will cooperate with the lords of Naville to implement the tenant system and the Mutual Aid Association.” Clement nodded, then said seriously, “The Rex family has guarded the Theocracy of Ayr for over a thousand years. No one can force you to do anything. I guarantee this! You have the right to choose.”

“Ahem.” Tournans cleared his throat, looked at Rex, and said, “You can explain what you and Tutor were talking about later… I need to tell you that Grand Commander Testier has arrived. He’s already at the cathedral’s main gate.”

Outside the cathedral, a disturbance of the void wind element flashed by, imperceptible yet razor-sharp and bone-chilling.

A playful smile appeared on Rex’s face. “I feel it… Since the Grand Commander of the Radiant Knights has come to see me in disguise, I might as well hear what he has to say.”

As soon as he finished speaking, four Great Knights in Mithril armor, their hands resting on their longswords, pushed the door open. They bowed to the Pope and Tournans, then looked at the King.

Rex waved his hand and instructed, “It’s fine. His Highness is Grand Commander Testier. You may leave for now.”

The four Silver Knights gave a slight nod and left the room without a word. Not long after, three men cloaked in high-priest robes entered the reception room, simultaneously bowing slightly to the Pope seated in the chair.

The leader of the group pulled back his hood, turning to Rex. He had raven-black hair, features as exquisite as a sculpture, and beneath his long, straight eyebrows were a pair of ice-blue eyes, like two frozen, solidified storms. His thin lips curved upwards in a faint smile as he said softly:

“Your Majesty Rex, I heard you’ve run into some trouble… How about I help you take care of that Gold-rank Gnoll?”

Chapter 491: Selfishness and Righteousness

“Howard Testier, I will be in Naville for three months. You won’t need to lift a finger to deal with Windfang!”

Tournans crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. Even when facing the most powerful man of the day, the Grand Commander of the Radiant Knights, not a trace of reverence could be seen on his face.

Testier’s ice-blue eyes turned to the Legendary Sacred Warrior. He raised a slender eyebrow, a playful smile gracing his handsome face. “Brother Tournans, I can’t defeat you, but you can’t catch me.”

Tournans smacked his lips, rubbing the bald spot on the back of his head before turning to Rex. “Howard’s right. I’m not as fast as he is.”

The King of Naville did not reply, instead bowing to the other two high-ranking priests. “Rex greets Patriarch Frieders and Patriarch Tamor.”

Frieders was tall and powerfully built. His full head of silver hair was neatly combed, his complexion ruddy and free of wrinkles. His grayish-brown eyes were like a falcon’s, sharp and majestic. The old Patriarch, known for his unyielding rigidity, gave Rex a slight nod in return. He pulled out a chair for himself and sat down at Pope Clement’s right hand.

“Your Majesty Rex, this is an informal, secret meeting. There is no need for such ceremony.”

Patriarch Tamor was all smiles and affability. The youngest of the Patriarchs also pulled out a chair for himself, sitting to the Pope’s left, and said with a grin, “If Your Majesty and Grand Commander Testier have matters to discuss, you may proceed.”

Rex said nothing, his heavy gaze meeting Testier’s sharp, reserved one for a moment.

The Grand Commander of the Radiant Knights nodded and began to speak. “A thousand years ago, the second Emperor of the Randt Empire also encountered a savage badger in Naville’s Misty Mountains that he was powerless against. He spent several months playing cat and mouse with it, and in the end, he had to summon two thousand four hundred soldiers to help before he could finally capture his prey. And that was only because the savage badger had a strong territorial instinct and never tried to flee the area.”

“Windfang is no mindless, savage beast. The Knights and Sacred Warriors of Sus guarding the Twilight Forest line have already experienced its power and cunning. A Silver Knight and an Adjudicator have fallen to Windfang, while it remains completely unscathed. The fact that it dared to initiate an attack on a Silver Knight is proof enough that it is a Gold-rank Savage Gnoll.”

“The Bards of the Kingdom of Sus sing tales of this monster’s vicious, bloodthirsty reputation, but we all know that Windfang is a Gold-rank Gnoll that can smell a human from several kilometers away, see through darkness, and perceive danger, possessing the dual talents of Wind Walk and Bloodlust… You annihilated its kin, and now it is a lone wolf, bent on revenge, with nothing to lose.”

“I am not being an alarmist. The Sword Mantis Knights of Naville will inevitably suffer casualties in their attempts to hunt Windfang. The scope of the operation, the time it will take, and the extent of the Sword Mantis Knights’ losses are all beyond your control.”

Testier glanced at Tournans, his gaze returning to the King of Naville. He said calmly, “Since Windfang was able to lead its kin out of the Twilight Forest from under the Gnoll King’s very nose, no powerhouse in the entire human realm would dare guarantee they could hunt and kill it within three months. The four legendary powerhouses—Sylvia, Nachtigal, Neovist, and Tournans—might be able to do it, but the first three would have their reputations to consider, and Naville must consider the kingdom’s honor. If Tournans and I cooperate, we can certainly eliminate this threat to the Kingdom of Naville within three months.”

“First, we’d have to actually run into Windfang within those three months,” Tournans mused, then added, “With Howard assisting me, we only need to encounter it once. Windfang will die for sure!”

Rex looked Testier straight in the eye and asked, “And what if we don’t? How long can you stay in Naville?”

“I can stay for a month and a half at most,” Testier said with a smile. “However, I can dispatch a Silver Paladin from the Testier family to lead a thirty-man squad of Sacred Warriors to assist Naville’s knights in hunting Windfang. They will be rotated annually until Windfang is successfully slain. With them here, that monster will be forced to restrain its lust for vengeance and blood.”

Only a Gale Knight could restrain a Gold-rank Gnoll with Wind Walk.

However, the wind element affinity bloodline, originating from the Moon Elves, was the most unstable of knight’s bloodlines. It was especially prone to being overwritten by earth and water-element bloodlines and required careful maintenance to have any chance of being passed down. The fluid nature of the wind element meant that Wind Knights were exceptionally rare. Besides the Testier family, there were currently only five wind-element Great Knights in all the human kingdoms.

Sword Saint Draven had fathered seven children with six Gold Knight lovers. Empress Baselius’s bloodline was too powerful; their twins both possessed Gold Bloodlines with earth and water elemental affinity. The other four female Gold Knights did give birth to children with wind-element Gold Bloodlines, but with the collapse of the Iron Mountain Empire, the four ducal families lost the resources to maintain the Sword Saint’s bloodline, and their families’ wind-element bloodlines were eventually replaced by ordinary knight’s bloodlines.

The Testier Paladin family, by leveraging the special effect of the Mark of Light to maintain their ancient bloodline, became the sole remaining wind-element bloodline family. In a sense, the Testiers were the true direct descendants of Sword Saint Draven. But those family members who had not undergone the baptism of the Pool of Holy Power were still knights of ordinary bloodlines. This was the main reason the Seven Great Paladin Families vied for their family’s ranking.

Regardless, with three Gold Paladins and twelve Silver Paladins, the Testier family was the most powerful knight family of the age, bar none.

A fourth-rank Silver Paladin could unleash the combat power of a Gold Knight. A Silver Paladin from the Testier family would be more than enough to suppress the Gold-rank Gnoll’s mad frenzy and minimize the damage it could inflict upon the Kingdom of Naville.

Rex, however, remained unmoved. “Compared to the sky-high grain prices in the Sasan Empire, the harm Windfang brings to Naville is negligible. Don’t you agree, Your Highness Testier?”

“Indeed,” Testier conceded with a nod. “His Majesty Frederick has his difficulties. The Sasan Empire is at war with the Centaur tribes and is in dire need of all kinds of military supplies. These things all cost money. Now that the Sasan Empire can’t sell its green wheat, he can only turn his attention to the Kingdom of Naville.”

“I have a proposal. The Kingdom of Naville deploys its forces from Giantstone Fortress to join the Radiant Knights, the Temple Army, and one hundred thousand cavalry from the Sasan Empire in a campaign to encircle and annihilate the Blackhoof tribe and slay the Great Khan of the Blackhoof, Orogar. The Sasan Empire’s army will attack the Blackhoof tribe’s main force head-on, the Radiant Knights and the Temple Army will assault Orogar’s Centaur personal guard, and Naville will be responsible for cutting off the Blackhoof tribe’s retreat and sweeping up their Goblin vassal army. Once we have slain Orogar and annihilated the Blackhoof tribe, the three hundred thousand square kilometers of land north of the Giantstone Mountains will all belong to the Kingdom of Naville. It is a fertile, red-soil plain suitable for growing green wheat. With that land, will Naville still fear a lack of grain? Why continue to spend a fortune on building large-scale water projects?”

Testier raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile on his lips. “The people of Naville are brave and skilled in battle, and Your Majesty Rex’s martial prowess is praised by all. You wouldn’t be afraid to fight even the weak and timid Goblins, would you?”

Rex chuckled grimly. “The people of Naville often raid the supply lines of the Sassans. Aren’t you afraid we’ll just run away mid-battle, Your Highness Testier?”

“That is why I only ask Naville’s army to cut off the Centaurs’ retreat. If the people of Naville are afraid of even the fleeing remnants of the Blackhoof tribe, you are free to withdraw at any time!”

Grand Commander Testier spoke with pride. “Frankly, I am not confident in letting the Kingdom of Naville’s army fight a pitched battle. With or without Naville’s participation, our victory is assured!”

“As long as Your Majesty dispatches your troops, regardless of the outcome or when you retreat, I guarantee the Sasan Empire will provide grain aid to Naville until you have established your city in the Northern Wildlands. Alternatively, we can supply you with low-priced green wheat to help Naville settle refugees and build water projects.” Testier smiled. “The Sasan Empire is promoting New Agro-husbandry, and the biannual green wheat harvest now yields over a thousand pounds per mu. The Empire’s grain is piled up like a mountain. Your Majesty Rex need not worry that we would break our promise.”

The King of Naville nodded and said in a heavy voice, “For five years, the Radiant Knights, the Temple Army, and the warriors of the Sasan Empire have annihilated over ten thousand Blackhoof Centaur warriors and eliminated thirteen Blackhoof Chiliarchs. The Centaur Great Khan now has only three Gold-rank Centaur Chiliarchs by his side. Your Highness Testier is indeed certain of victory… For this, two Silver Paladins, twenty-nine Paladins, thirteen Adjudicators, sixty-seven battle priests, over seven thousand Sacred Warriors, four Sasan Great Knights, sixty-one Sasan Knights, and over seventeen thousand Sasan soldiers have spilled their blood on the battlefield. The Sasan Empire has sacrificed more soldiers than half of the Kingdom of Naville’s total military strength.”

“Windfang is just a single, lone Gold-rank Gnoll. Facing the Kingdom of Naville, it cannot afford to make a single mistake. The moment it does, I can kill it! The army of the Kingdom of Naville, facing the Blackhoof Centaurs, also cannot afford to make a single mistake. One mistake, and we will be doomed beyond recovery.”

Rex asked faintly, “Should Naville’s knights ignore a Gold-rank Gnoll to go fight a life-or-death battle against a Legendary-rank Centaur Great Khan? Your Highness Testier, tell me, what choice should I make?”

“Understandable.”

Testier nodded. “For this month, I will remain in Naville and cooperate with Tournans to hunt Windfang. After a month, I must return to oversee the war against the Blackhoof tribe. As for whether we can catch Windfang, that will depend on luck. If our luck is poor, I too will find it regrettable. When the war ends, then the Testier family’s Silver Paladins can help the Sword Mantis Knights hunt Windfang.”

“Let’s not waste time. We’ll find a place right now and talk about a plan for hunting the Gnoll.”

Testier gestured with his hand, signaling for Rex and Tournans to leave the Church’s reception room. Tournans caught Clement nodding at him and followed behind Testier, saying as he walked, “Howard, we can talk, but you’re not allowed to speak in riddles with Rex in front of me… Also, you just said Sasan’s grain is piled up like a mountain, so why is Frederick still selling it at a high price? Isn’t he afraid the green wheat will rot in his granaries?”

“Not at all… It can be used to brew wine, and to feed pigs, cattle, sheep, and horses.”

“Then shouldn’t the prices of wine, cattle, sheep, and horses come down?”

“…Tournans, why do you talk so much?”

“Is this the first day you’ve met me?”

The First Sacred Warrior’s voice gradually faded into the distance. The old Patriarch Frieders’s eyelids were half-closed as he said in a cold voice, “Their selfish interests outweigh the greater good. This is what I detest about secular lords.”

Clement’s expression was grave. “Great Divination is not omnipotent. Once an action exceeds the scope of the Great Divination, the forces of fate will self-correct, leading to unforeseeable consequences. The prophecy concerning the Sasan Empire and the Blackhoof tribe has already been fulfilled… I oppose the Radiant Knights’ operational plan to completely annihilate the Blackhoof tribe and slay the Centaur Great Khan!”

“Great Divination has its limits, but what if you add power to it?”

Frieders withdrew his gaze from Clement’s face and said calmly, “Three days ago, my youngest son returned to our Lord’s embrace.”

Clement and Tamor were taken aback and recited in unison, “All glory be to the Lord.”

Frieders was silent for a moment before saying in a deep voice, “Scouts from the Radiant Knights have detected large numbers of Centaurs and Goblins moving toward the Blackhoof tribe’s territory. The Beast-tongue Shamans kept by the Feliett family have confirmed they belong to seven different Centaur tribes, coming in response to the Great Khan’s summons.”

Patriarch Tamor frowned. “According to the original prophecy, the Blackhoof tribe’s dominant position would be challenged by other Centaur tribes. We should be watching from the sidelines as the Centaur tribes fight amongst themselves.”

“Orogar is a Legendary-rank Centaur.” Frieders’s hawk-like eyes stared into Tamor’s as he said coldly, “It has summoned other Centaur tribes for aid, but it could also be subjugating them. We cannot take that risk. The best course of action is to slay Orogar and throw the Centaur tribes into complete chaos.”

Tamor smiled humbly, a gesture of concession. Frieders turned to Clement and asked, “Why did His Majesty Inoc grant the Pontiff the authority to use Great Divination twice?”

“The price of casting Great Divination is immense. The Pontiff should share the Pope’s burden,” Clement replied.

“The papal line has long been unreliable,” Frieders scoffed. “For over three hundred years, no Pontiff has ever cast Great Divination twice. If the situation changes, will you cast a second Great Divination?”

Clement did not respond. But Tamor smiled and said, “If I were Pontiff, I would also only cast Great Divination once. And if it involved a Spirit Knight, I would have to think twice.”

Frieders snorted and said, “And that is why I have always believed that the Radiant Knights are the hope of humanity…”

“Our philosophies differ. There is no need for further discussion.”

Clement’s gaze was gentle, his tone calm. Yet Patriarch Frieders fell silent.

“Grain prices in Naville are exorbitant, and the people are living in hardship. What do you propose we do?” the Pope asked.

Frieders and Tamor exchanged a look, and Frieders spoke up. “The Dodor Kingdom has donated fifty thousand sets of cavalry equipment to the Sasan diocese.”

Tamor continued, “The Dodor Kingdom has applied to the Church for corresponding relief aid in the form of raw iron and refined iron.”

Clement nodded. “Very well. I will press Rex to donate raw iron and refined iron to the Dodor diocese.”

“Within a week, the Sasan Empire will stabilize grain prices. Furthermore, the first batch of relief grain donated by the Sasan Empire will arrive at the Naville diocese within three months, enough to feed three hundred thousand people for one month. After that, a donation will be made once a year until the water project is complete,” Patriarch Frieders promised.

Having settled the relevant church affairs, Patriarch Tamor mulled it over for a moment, then said, “Your Holiness, I have studied the tenant system of the Randell Fief and your Mutual Aid Association system. I believe they will greatly enhance the power of the secular lords…”

Clement looked at Tamor. “You all just witnessed His Majesty Rex’s attitude. Do you believe the tenant system and the Mutual Aid Association could allow the secular lords to unite into a great empire?”

Patriarch Frieders said dismissively, “Absolutely impossible!”

Clement added, “The Golden Horn, which allocates the authority of the Pool of Holy Power, is in the hands of the Radiant Knights. The Pope’s bloodline, which upholds the Radiant Code, is under the control of the Holy See. Is it possible for the Church to be split?”

Tamor and Frieders shook their heads almost in unison.

“Then what is there to worry about?”

Clement turned to Tamor and asked, “Do you have any other suggestions regarding the Mutual Aid Association?”

Tamor smiled bitterly and sighed. “The Mutual Aid Association system designed by Your Holiness… I can find nothing that could be improved upon.”

“The design of the Mutual Aid Association is flawless. It is truly admirable,” Frieders also praised. “Your Holiness’s talent for managing church affairs is far beyond my own.”

Clement sighed silently in his heart and said, “Then let us co-sign it and list the Mutual Aid Association as a new Church tenet. Promote Dayn to a level five priest, and have him return to the Randell Fief to continue serving as Father Miller’s assistant priest.”

“What? Oh, I obey Your Holiness’s decree.” Tamor was first surprised, then delighted, bowing his head in acceptance.

On paper, it was Father Dayn who had proposed the Mutual Aid Association system. For such a merit, a promotion of one level was to be expected, and he would even be qualified for a position in the Holy See’s Curia. Yet Clement had voluntarily given up the chance to strengthen his influence. For Dayn to continue serving as an assistant priest with the status of a high-ranking clergy was tantamount to a punishment. This meant that he had gone behind Clement’s back and revealed the Mutual Aid Association ahead of time, and was thus being punished by Clement.

To have such a student, no wonder Clement wasn’t pleased at all… Frieders looked at the Pope with a hint of sympathy.

At dusk, Rex summoned Marquess Wolert, the Grand Vizier of Naville, to the royal palace to discuss the Radiant Knights’ invitation to send troops and the matter of the tenant system.

“Your Majesty should refuse Grand Commander Testier. If we lose, the Kingdom of Naville will be severely weakened and will no longer have the strength to compete with the Sasan Empire for the right to develop the Northern Wildlands. Even if we win, building a city on the plains north of the Giantstone Mountains would leave us with no natural defenses. The kingdom would be drawn into a long-term quagmire of see-saw warfare with the beastmen tribes, effectively serving as the Sasan Empire’s eastern shield. In the long run, Naville would become the Radiant Knights’ second vassal.”

“We should implement the tenant system and the Mutual Aid Association, follow the York family’s example of converting refugees into subjects, train a mercenary legion, build up our strength, and then send troops to develop the Northern Wildlands,” Marquess Wolert said.

Rex clasped his hands behind his back, paced a few steps in his study, then stopped and asked, “There’s no need to speak of the benefits of the tenant system and the Mutual Aid Association. Just the tenants serving four months of labor service will save us a huge sum of money… I only want to know why His Holiness Clement wants me to invite Viscount Randell?”

“I do not know.”

Marquess Wolert shook his head, taking a step forward to explain. “I do not know why Viscount Randell would push His Holiness Clement into the spotlight while he himself hides in the shadows. If His Holiness Clement hasn’t figured it out either, the best response is to drag Viscount Randell into the light. A person like that is simply too terrifying…”

Rex was silent for a few seconds, his brows knitting together. He asked hesitantly, “What does the Pope intend to do to Viscount Randell? I have no desire to die on the end of Sylvia’s mithril longspear…”

“There’s no possibility of what Your Majesty is thinking.”

Grand Vizier Wolert smiled. “Your Majesty, you’ve heard about what happened with Marquess Bastern, haven’t you? Clement wanted to perform a Holy Light prayer for the Spirit Knight, but Bastern ruined it… That old fox Bastern handled that matter beautifully! Since Clement can’t perform the Holy Light prayer for the Spirit Knight, Viscount Randell is clearly the better choice. Perhaps, in Clement’s mind, Viscount Randell’s importance has now surpassed Sylvia’s.”

Rex was stunned for a moment, then burst into hearty laughter. “You old dog, that’s what you’re really thinking, isn’t it?”

“Viscount Randell can scheme against the Pope and still leave us unable to discern his intentions.” Wolert smiled faintly. “It’s only normal that I would have such thoughts.”

Chapter 492: Nothing To Do

The blink of an eye brought early January in the Season of Water. The weather turned cold, perfect for slaughtering pigs and sheep to make cured meat.

Caligula had donned a blood-stained oilcloth apron that radiated a murderous aura. With an agility that belied his clumsy appearance, he snatched a fat pig’s hind leg, effortlessly hoisting the nearly four-hundred-pound creature upside down. Before the pig could even let out a heart-rending squeal, the handle of a knife struck its forehead, and its eyes immediately rolled back as it passed out. Caligula carried the limp, fat pig out of the pen and, in a few steps, reached the slaughtering station. He flipped the knife, slanted the tip, and plunged it into the hollow just below the pig’s neck. Hot pig’s blood gushed out into a wooden basin on the ground. Once the blood had drained, he dunked the pig into a large wooden barrel of scalding water that had been prepared beforehand. After rolling it around a few times, he lifted it out and began scraping off the bristles with the very same butcher knife. The blade slid from leg to head, stripping the carcass clean in just a few strokes. Caligula turned, gave the clean white carcass a light toss, and gripped it by the back of the neck. He slid the blade down the pig’s chest, and with a flick of his wrist, its entrails slid out with a wet plop into another large basin. Several butchers immediately carried it away.

By now, Caligula had already removed the pig’s head and split the carcass in two.

He held the pig with one hand and butchered it with the other. From catching and killing the pig, to bleeding, de-hairing, gutting, and finally sectioning it, the entire process was a single, fluid motion that took only nineteen minutes.

If one could ignore the unbearable stench of blood and viscera, Caligula’s performance had a fluid, graceful beauty to it in Victor’s eyes.

This was no different from the masterful skill of Cook Ding Cutting an Ox.

It was hard to imagine that Caligula had only truly started butchering pigs four days ago. For the preceding months, he had been struggling with his own psychological barriers. To help him overcome his timidity and cowardice, Victor had resorted to the crudest form of hunger therapy. He first starved him for ten full days, then fed him half-cooked beef, then raw beef, then half-cooked blood sausage, and finally, only raw cow’s blood. After six months of this torment, Caligula finally began to kill fish, then geese, then ground lizards, then sheep, and finally, pigs…

In four days, Caligula had butchered more pigs than an ordinary butcher would in forty.

If he didn’t work, he would starve. The moment he did, no one else was his match.

What did it mean to be extraordinary? This was extraordinary.

Cook Ding Cutting an Ox required decades of practice, yet it took Caligula only four days to master dissecting a pig with one knife. The gap between an ordinary person and an extraordinary one was clear at a glance. But the extraordinary were, after all, a minority, and their power had limits. Even a Gold Knight would have to clean pigs one by one; there was no such thing as waving a hand and processing a whole herd. In contrast, even the slightest improvement in the vast majority of ordinary people could gather into a force like a deafening roar.

Victor beckoned to Caligula, and the big oaf immediately dropped his knife and trotted over. Beldina squirmed free from Shirley’s grasp and, like a little fat monkey, scrambled onto Caligula’s shoulders. Riding on his neck, she covered his eyes with her small hands, directing the big oaf left and right, giggling with delight.

Shirley stomped her foot in frustration, calling out in a crisp voice, “Bel, come down! Come down right now! The big oaf stinks!” Seeing that Bel was unmoved, she tugged on Victor’s sleeve and said plaintively, “Master, please tell sister Bel to come down.”

Bel is actually seven years older than you, yet you still see her as an adorable little sister… Victor shook his head and chuckled. Each of the little attendants wanted to monopolize Beldina. They had even held negotiations and reached a consensus: each person would be responsible for taking care of Bel for one day. Today was Shirley’s turn to be Bel’s “sister.”

Of course, there was a practical reason for this. Whoever was close to Bel would find their mood lifted and their luck especially good. When picking mushrooms, they would always be the first to fill their basket, and when digging for ground-rats, they were rarely bitten.

If Caligula’s talent represented the developmental direction of individual martial prowess, then Beldina’s ability belonged to the realm of fate.

Caligula possessed immense strength and sharp intuition, his close-combat skills surpassing even Narsen’s. Beldina had a native luck aura. Combined with Victor’s sharp long-range attacks and the X-3’s powerful computational ability, as long as Caligula could tie down an enemy for a moment, a luck-boosted Victor could lock in the victory.

Such a combination was nigh perfect. With these two by his side, Victor believed there were very few people who could defeat him.

The Randell Fief was now a large and thriving enterprise, but it lacked powerhouses who could hold their own. Nicole and Narsen had to guard the territory. Victor indeed needed a powerful combination by his side.

Unfortunately, Beldina might be a little Wizard who would die upon discovery, so Victor didn’t dare let her interact with outsiders.

If that bastard Imosen dares to lie to me, I’ll show him what’s what!

Victor ground his teeth in anger, but on second thought, the possibility of Imosen deceiving him was almost zero.

If Imosen had known Bel was a Wizard, he would have sought Victor’s protection long ago.

Who would joke about their own precious daughter’s life? Imosen had raised Beldina for so many years without noticing a problem, so Bel was probably fine… right?

Under Bel’s “control,” Caligula walked over. The little attendants all backed away, their faces full of disdain. Victor couldn’t help but frown. Caligula had, after all, ignited the fire of the mind. Now that he had overcome his psychological barriers, having him continue to slaughter pigs and sheep served no real purpose. Victor had originally planned to let Caligula practice on Fishmen, but he now changed his mind.

“Brandon, Klaus, take everyone and go slaughter a fattened cow.”

The young noble attendants’ faces changed drastically. Brandon was pushed forward by the others and stammered, “Master, I… we don’t know how to kill a cow.”

“Ha, you don’t know how? What kind of Knight’s Squire doesn’t know how to process game? Go ask My Lady Nicole if she didn’t follow her Tutor into the wilderness from a young age to practice survival skills. Setting up camp, hunting, gathering, dressing game, and cooking wild food—is there anything she can’t do?”

The little attendants hung their heads in shame and said in unison, “We will obey our master’s command.”

Victor said coolly, “Father Dayn has returned from the Holy See. I am hosting an Evening Banquet at Laketon Castle tonight to celebrate his promotion to a high-ranking clergyman. I require each of you, in accordance with the tradition of a Knight’s Squire, to personally slaughter a fattened cow, clean it, cook it into dishes, and offer respectful service to the guests. Anyone who can’t do it, or does it poorly, gets no food tonight!”

The little attendants looked at each other in dismay. Klaus stepped forward, bowed, and said, “My lord, we have no cow, no salt, no spices, no side dishes, and no cooking tools.”

“Mm.”

Victor nodded and languidly retorted, “Then do you not have eyes and mouths? Hands and feet? Do you not have brains?”

“Huh? Oh, I understand, I understand,” Shirley’s eyes lit up as she said happily. “Master is telling us to figure it out ourselves!”

“That’s right, my sister is so smart,” Brandon exclaimed proudly.

Figuring out how to deal with a fat cow and turn it into dinner on their own—wasn’t that just like playing a game?

The little attendants instantly grew excited, chattering amongst themselves.

“We should find a fat cow first.”

“But we don’t have any money, and we also need spices and salt. So we should pool our money first… The problem is, who do we borrow money from?”

“We don’t necessarily have to borrow money. We can trick… oh, I mean, get it on credit. Yes, we can figure out a way to get the materials we need on credit.”

“Gentlemen, ladies.” Victor clapped his hands, drawing the little ones’ attention back to him. He said with a smile, “It’s already afternoon… I must remind you, you don’t have much time. Also, no one is allowed to sneak any food. I want to ensure you are on an empty stomach… when you accept your punishment.”

Klaus looked up at the sun slanting westward and muttered to his companions, “What we need most right now is help.” He walked up to Caligula, bowed very seriously, and said with sincerity, “Mr. ‘Giant,’ would you be able to help us?”

“‘Giant’ won’t help ‘little ones.’”

Beldina, still perched on Caligula’s neck, mimicked his booming voice, then tilted her head and giggled. “Bel can persuade ‘Giant’ to help the ‘little ones.’ What will the ‘little ones’ give Bel to thank her?”

The little attendants enthusiastically huddled together to discuss. In the end, Brandon tilted his head up and shouted to Bel, “There are seventeen of us here. Each of us will give Bel one day’s worth of our snacks.”

Bel sucked in a mouthful of saliva, let out a cheer, and tugged on Caligula’s ear, shouting, “Let’s go! Caligula, let’s go get a cow, go get a cow!”

Caligula grinned foolishly as he was surrounded by a crowd of little attendants who only came up to his thigh, and they all headed towards the cattle slaughterhouse.

Watching the little brats gradually walk away, Victor suddenly didn’t know what he should do.

The Randell Mutual Aid Vouchers had been in circulation for two months. Dayn had been recalled to the Holy See to report on his duties and only returned to the Randell Fief today.

As Victor had expected, the Holy See’s Curia issued new Church tenets. In principle, they encouraged lords to establish Mutual Aid Associations and acknowledged the legitimacy of the vouchers, but they offered no concrete countermeasures.

There was no way to counter it. The Church strictly forbade clergy from engaging in for-profit business activities, yet also required believers to practice self-redemption. The Mutual Aid Association satisfied both these tenets, leaving the Curia with no grounds to object.

As the originator of the Mutual Aid Association, Dayn was commended by the Holy See and promoted one rank ahead of the normal schedule, becoming a rank-five high-ranking priest. Yet he himself felt no joy in this. According to him, Clement had not seen him at all, and Bishop Pello, displeased with his unauthorized actions, had become very cold towards him.

All signs indicated that Dayn had been pushed out of the core circle of Clement’s faction.

Victor, however, was very pleased. This was all part of his plan.

The fundamental reason the Church had not opposed the Mutual Aid Association was that neither the clergy nor the knights had grasped the concept of “the will of the people”. The chasm between the extraordinary and ordinary people had created a social structure unique to this world. Mortals were accustomed to devotion and obedience, praying to the extraordinary for protection and advancement. Their struggles were largely confined to the lower rungs of society and did not affect the rule of those at the top.

However, a change was about to begin.

As the Mind Bloodline secret art became increasingly refined, a third political force would soon emerge in human society. The knightly class and the clerical class would inevitably take countermeasures, with the ultimate goal of suppressing this third political force. The fatal problem was that the Mind Bloodline secret art was built upon the foundation of the human race, capable of enhancing the power of both knights and clergy simultaneously. In other words, Victor could not monopolize the Mind Bloodline secret art. As soon as he used it to train soldiers, it would be imitated and improved upon by knights or clergy. It was only a matter of time.

As the creator of the Mind Bloodline secret art, Victor’s own interests were not guaranteed unless he took active and effective measures.

The clergy and knights already stood at the apex of society. If Victor tried to curry favor with them using the secret art, he would gain nothing more than an empty reputation. Rather than do that, he might as well use the Mind Bloodline secret art to cultivate a new power and establish a new system to propel House of Randell to the pinnacle.

In the Centralized Allotted Land System, the first thing Victor had to topple was the Church’s absolute influence over the mortals. Otherwise, all the elites cultivated by House of Randell would just run off with the Church, and who could Victor complain to then?

One had to remember, the Radiant Code protected Knights, not Wind Walk Archers. The Sword Saint Draven was once hunted for thousands of kilometers by the Radiant Knights.

Suppose Victor had handed the idea of the Mutual Aid Association to Clement. Clement would have only held onto the concept, shelving it for twenty years to seek greater political gain. Could Victor hide the Mind Bloodline secret art for twenty years? Once Clement saw the Mind Warriors cultivated by House of Randell, he would quickly realize the gravity of the situation.

So Victor exploited a time lag. No matter how brilliant Clement was, he did not understand the fearsome power of the people’s will!

Since the Church failed to nip the Mutual Aid Association in the bud, once the vast population of believers enjoyed its benefits, the clergy could only go with the flow.

As for Dayn’s predicament, it was actually a good thing for Victor. A rank-five priest’s extraordinary divine arts were equivalent to the Gold rank, but Dayn was now isolated and without support. He could only cling tightly to the House of Randell, hoping to rise as they did.

Only if House of Randell prospered would Dayn have a chance to return to the Holy See and enter the core layer of the Curia.

In other words, Dayn was one of them now. House of Randell had a Gold-rank priest.

Aside from the liege lord, the Centralized Allotted Land System did not judge a person’s worth by bloodline alone; everyone had a position befitting their abilities. Take Caligula for example. Though simple and foolish, he now possessed Silver-rank combat strength. How could Victor tolerate the young noble attendants looking down on him?

First, let them get along. The young noble attendants would naturally come to realize the vast gap between themselves and Caligula. If that didn’t work, he would have no choice but to expel them.

However, Victor had full confidence that the little attendants would change their way of thinking.

A complete system has the ability to assimilate differences. As long as it maintained a smooth path for advancement and a self-healing support system, everyone’s mindsets and behaviors would be assimilated, and they would spontaneously maintain and improve the current system.

Dayn also had his place. He was an auxiliary, situated on the second tier of the pyramid of the centralized system, equivalent in status to the Nobles. If he could bring the ideology of the Centralized Allotted Land System into the upper echelons of the Church and form a faction, that would be for the best.

The Centralized Allotted Land System was already established. It operated and improved on its own, and the remaining minor details were handled by dedicated personnel, requiring no concern from Victor. For instance, the fat Weyrich, head of the Mutual Aid Association, had sold Mutual Aid Vouchers all the way to Raven Town and begun to earn money from the people of Dodor. Last month’s mutual aid fund exceeded one million eight hundred thousand Copper Sols, and it was expected to surpass two million this month. For another example, the supervisor of the Copper Sol minting workshop had recruited apprentices, expanding the team of over two hundred minters to six hundred. They could now mint one hundred thousand Copper Sols and one hundred fifty thousand Copper Pennies daily.

Victor’s main job now was to study the Mind Bloodline secret art.

Using Tournans’s Gryphon Combat Technique as a foundation, Victor and Narsen had developed another Mind Bloodline cultivation method suitable for the majority of people. The first two stages of this method were identical to the Gryphon Combat Technique, but the third realm incorporated the Mountain Ape visualization.

The individual strength of a mountain ape was less than that of bears, tigers, or leopards, but it possessed both strength and agility, making it one of the beasts closest in form to humans. Moreover, mountain apes excelled at coordination and were extremely fierce in nature; even a Nightblade Panther would not dare to easily provoke a troop of them.

For this purpose, Victor had the smuggling caravan capture a dozen mountain apes and transport them to the Randell Fief. He observed their movements, postures, and sleeping habits day after day, eventually designing a complete Mountain Ape Mystic Form.

Based on Narsen’s cultivation results, the X-3 calculated that it would take an ordinary person about eight years to reach the third realm of the Mountain Ape Mystic Form. Mastering the third realm would most likely allow one to ignite the fire of the mind, after which they could enter the fourth realm of the Internal Vision stage. How far one could go beyond that depended on the cultivator’s talent and diligence. The third realm of the Mountain Ape Mystic Form could also enhance a cultivator’s strength, agility, and power of the mind, reaching the level of a rank-two Sacred Warrior. Its cultivation effects were even more outstanding than the Gryphon Combat Technique.

Unfortunately, Victor’s own progress with the Mind Bloodline secret art had stalled. He still hadn’t figured out what the common ground was between the Moon Elf bloodline and the human bloodline.

Victor stood there thinking for a long time but came up empty. He decided to go check on the sluice gate. He had nothing to do these days, either leading his little attendants on strolls, having a tryst with his lover, writing love letters to Catherine, or… having an affair with Trisley behind Nicole’s back.

Sylvia had sent Trisley to guard the sluice gate. Relying on her abilities as a Water-type Great Knight and her Semi-elementalization, she sniped Fishmen in the Goldwater River, protecting the craftsmen building the docks from harassment.

Victor and Trisley’s intimate relationship was known to very few. Being with her secretly always provided a different kind of thrill.

Chapter 493: Gathering Clouds (Part 1)

The Season of Water was the procreation season for the Fishmen. Those with the ability to reproduce returned to the shallows to mate and lay their eggs, leaving only the old, weak, sick, and disabled on the riverbanks. When faced with the provocations of the two-legged, iron-clad monsters, they often did not respond.

Humans and Fishmen were now in a truce period. Only a small number of troops were stationed at the frontline camps along the riverbanks, with most soldiers having returned to the towns to rest. But for the hired laborers building the pier, the intense and arduous work was far from over.

Starting from the first month of the Season of Fire, Victor had mobilized more than eighteen thousand able-bodied workers. Over the course of two hundred and ninety-four days, they constructed a fourteen-kilometer-long, seventeen-meter-high levee on the riverbank where the sluice gate was located. This project altered the topography of the riverbank by the sluice gate, ensuring the Fishmen would no longer use this area as a gathering point and clearing the way for the construction of the port town to follow.

With the arrival of this year’s rainy and snowy season, the waters of the Goldwater River were bound to surge. To prevent the rushing water from overwhelming and destroying the levee, the York family successively dispatched more than thirty-four thousand able-bodied workers from the Centaur Hills. They came in batches to the sluice gate, racing to raise and widen the levee before the rainy season began. They compacted the earth and lined the outer face with green bricks to prevent the water from washing away the soil and causing a collapse.

This levee had to withstand the test of the Goldwater River. It was also a test of the Centaur Hills’ mobilization and construction capabilities, as well as its logistical organization system.

With over fifty thousand able-bodied laborers plus logistics personnel, a total of nearly eighty thousand people were directly involved in the levee construction project. Yet, the grain harvest and wheat planting in the Centaur Hills still proceeded in an orderly fashion. The York family’s performance left the Kingdom of Gambia and the Church dumbfounded and amazed. Even the lords of the York family could hardly believe they were capable of such a feat.

In truth, the Centaur Hills, and especially the House of Randell, had accumulated a wealth of experience in centralized construction from building water projects, stream reservoirs, and the southern fortress. Meanwhile, the implementation of the new agropastoral system had allowed the Centaur Hills to stockpile vast amounts of food and supplies. Most importantly, the tenant system continuously dispersed new immigrants into small family units, settling them in various villages and farms. These tenant households could immediately engage in agriculture, animal husbandry, and handicrafts, ensuring that the production activities of the Centaur Hills could operate in a stable and continuous manner.

The sun slanted west, its light shimmering like gold on the surface of the Goldwater River. On the levee, a sea of people bustled with extraordinary clamor. The sight of tens of thousands of people, their sweat pouring down like rain, was truly magnificent.

Inside the most luxurious room of the sluice gate castle, Trisley, dressed in a thin silk nightgown, leaned against the window, admiring the spectacular view below. The river wind lifted her slightly damp, pale gold hair, revealing her elegant neck and her snowy, rounded shoulders. Her expression was serene and focused.

A soft sound came from the door. Trisley didn’t turn around, but a faint blush rose on her porcelain-like cheeks, her eyes a mixture of fluster and a sweet, knowing smile.

Victor deftly closed the door, walked to the window, took Trisley’s small hand, and sat down on the sofa. “Darling,” he teased, “have you already bathed?”

Trisley’s face grew crimson. She hummed a soft “mm-hmm,” then lifted her moist, light blue eyes to look at her lover’s handsome face. “We’re about to go to Laketon Castle for Father Dayn’s celebration banquet…” she chided. “You’re not allowed to do anything naughty to me.”

“How could I? I came through the main door, not climbing through the window… I’m obviously here to personally invite Miss Trisley to the Laketon Castle Evening Banquet.” Victor said with a wicked smile, “Nicole is waiting for us…”

“Ah?!” Trisley’s face paled, and she made a move to stand up, but his next words reached her ears: “She’s waiting for us in Rose Town.”

“You fiend… I’ll bite you,” Trisley said, a mix of shyness and vexation. She leaned in and pressed a light kiss on Victor’s pointed ear, then sighed. “I never expected Nicole to manage a project with tens of thousands of people so meticulously and with such ease.”

“Of course. Just look at whose woman she is.” Victor lifted his chin, looking quite pleased with himself.

“She’s also my student, you know…”

Trisley rolled her eyes at Victor and said huffily, “Sylvia entrusted the project to you, but you threw the work to Nicole and Lilia, while you loaf around all day, neglecting your duties. How can you have the nerve to take credit for Nicole’s work?”

“I didn’t take credit for Nicole’s work. I took her Tutor… and her Tutor’s mistress.”

Deeply embarrassed, Trisley buried her head in Victor’s chest as he continued, “Nicole is outstanding because I taught her how to manage and coordinate… And I haven’t been neglecting my duties. I’ve been doing what a lord should be doing.”

Trisley lifted her head and asked curiously, “What should a lord do? Give orders?”

“Give orders when necessary, but most of the time, one should be cautious in speech and action, relaxed and at ease…”

Victor shook his head, looking at Trisley with a strange expression, and smiled. “Darling, you’re usually not interested in the fief’s affairs. Why are you asking for my teachings today?”

“I was just asking… If you don’t want to say, then forget it.” Trisley pouted, turning her head away petulantly.

“My dear, I couldn’t be happier that you’re willing to listen to my thoughts and views… How could I not tell you?”

Victor smiled faintly and said softly, “A lord who handles everything personally lacks confidence. Doing everything himself will only cause trouble and pressure for his subjects, stifling the initiative and creativity of his subordinates, making them seek only to avoid mistakes rather than achieve merit… A truly mature lord knows how to inspire courage and fighting spirit in his subjects, to spark their wisdom and talent…” He paused, then scoffed, “Spiritual inspiration isn’t something you can achieve with a few rousing words. You must let the subjects see hope for the future and have the security for survival and development. Establishing such a system is what a lord ought to do. I have already achieved this.”

“The tenant system and the Mutual Aid Association?”

“That’s right.” Victor nodded, saying confidently, “Even if I leave the Randell Fief for a while, the House of Randell can still function normally. So, I don’t need to stay on the construction site every day giving orders… I should be doing more important things.”

“What things?” Trisley asked curiously.

Victor said, half-joking and half-serious, “Right now, I need an heir… and that seems to be more difficult than creating a whole new system.”

Trisley bit her glossy pink lip, her face flushing as she asked in a tiny voice, “Victor, do you love me?”

Victor found this a little funny and a little pleasing. He said, “Darling, of course I love you.”

Trisley pressed, “How much?”

Victor saw Trisley’s light blue eyes begin to sparkle and sucked in a sharp breath. This question was a death loop; he should avoid it at all costs.

“Darling, you’re acting strange today, a little insecure? Has my charm increased?” he changed the subject in a narcissistic tone, turning to look in the mirror, but Trisley cupped his face.

“In two more months, Audel will be back.”

Victor said in pleasant surprise, “Really? That’s wonderful… How many young Nobles is Audel bringing back from the Eastern Alliance? How many can Sylvia spare for me?”

“I don’t know.”

Trisley let go of his face, asking unhappily, “If she pursues you, will you accept her?”

“No.” Victor shook his head, smiling wryly. “She has a husband, a child, a family… I just don’t think it’s appropriate.”

Trisley was silent for a moment, her expression growing complex. She said softly, “I’m so conflicted… I don’t like sharing you with others, but I know the difficulties that High-ranked Knights face… If Fredrick and Audel truly love each other, they should advance to Earth Knight and Raging Wave Knight… But if they do that, although they can be together, they will sever their hope of advancing to Gold Knight. Their lifespans will also become very short, and it goes against the family’s interests.” She lifted her head, staring into Victor’s eyes as she spoke. “If you refuse their advances, they’ll find themselves a paramour to ward off the loneliness. Just like Enbise and Fredrick’s mother… She has already left that Highness, started her own family, and had an heir with the little husband she cultivated. I hear she’s now preparing to challenge the Elemental Sea.”

“Everyone has their own destiny. I can only respect my own choices.”

Victor sighed, his tone calm. “In the York family, I chose you, Nicole, and Sylvia. If one day, I can only have children with a Gold Knight, and you all do not meet that condition, I will have no choice but to pursue a female Gold Knight from the human kingdoms… As for whether or not they have partners, I won’t be able to care about that. I must leave behind my Bloodline. The enterprise I have created cannot be without an heir.”

“No matter how far I go in the future, my feelings for you all will never change. I absolutely do not want you or Nicole to recklessly charge into the Gold realm,” Victor said with a serious expression.

Trisley tilted her head, pressing with great interest, “Then between me, Nicole, and Sylvia, who do you like the most?”

A massive headache set in for Victor. He retorted, “Between me and Sylvia, who do you like more?”

“Sylvia, of course!”

Trisley rolled her light-blue eyes, giggling as she fell into Victor’s arms.

Victor was startled and horrified. He turned his head and saw Sylvia in a dark corner of the room, arms crossed, staring at him with a smirk.

“My dear, what are you doing here?” Victor was surprised, happy, and embarrassed all at once. He tried to stand, but the Raging Wave Knight grabbed his arm, and he couldn’t break free for a moment.

Sylvia gracefully strolled over to Victor, nudged Trisley, and feigned anger. “Move it! My man and I only see each other once every two months. You two are stuck together every day, what are you still clinging to him for?”

“It’s not like we’re together every day…” Trisley pouted, obediently moving to the side.

Sylvia sat on Victor’s other side, raised an elegant eyebrow, and asked with a grin, “Was that a surprise? Did I scare you?”

Victor felt a cold sweat gather in his heart. “I don’t even dare to sneak up behind Nicole, for fear she’d suddenly hit me with something nasty…” he said, annoyed. “Please don’t play this kind of joke again, okay?”

Sylvia lowered her eyes demurely and said in a pitiable voice, “As you command, My lord.” Then she giggled and winked playfully. “If anyone dares to sneak up on you, feel free to give her something nasty.”

Victor rubbed his nose and said gloomily, “In that situation… I think my best choice would be to flee for my life immediately…”

“A wise decision.” Sylvia nodded in agreement, her eyes twinkling as if to tease: Would hitting me do any good? Could you even run away? If you’re not convinced, then hurry up and advance.

“My dear, why did you sneak over here? Did something happen?” Victor asked softly.

Sylvia opened her eyes and nodded. “A rank-five priest has emerged in the Randell diocese. Naturally, the York family has to offer congratulations. It’s just… not convenient for me to reveal my identity publicly… You know the reason.”

Victor shook his head decisively and said in a deep voice, “I don’t know.”

Sylvia stared into Victor’s dark, deep eyes for a moment, then said, “Bishop Pello also thinks you don’t really understand the actual situation within the Holy See, but what Dayn did was indeed a bit much.”

She raised a hand to tidy her messy hair, then continued, “Clement’s faction of scholar-priests is currently studying new methods of evangelism and relief aid based on the characteristics of the tenant system… The school for general education was a move by Clement, but they haven’t yet devised a concrete strategy for providing relief aid to tenant believers… One must first see the problem to solve it. You, however, got ahead of the Holy See and had Dayn propose and establish the Mutual Aid Association… Archbishop Saen learned of the association and immediately reported it to Patriarch Tamor. Tamor, along with Frieders, summoned Dayn back to the Holy See to report, catching Clement completely off-guard… In the Curia, they heaped praise on Father Dayn, attributing all the credit for the Mutual Aid Association to him alone. Their goal was to create the illusion of a split within the Pope’s faction. You see, the clergy in the Pope’s faction are not all Clement’s students; they also include the disciples of his close friends. Those people are extremely dissatisfied that the Pope kept them in the dark and secretly authorized his own disciple to monopolize the glory. Clement will never tolerate a split in his faction, so it’s inevitable that Dayn will be shelved.”

“Archbishop Saen originally wanted to send someone to the Randell diocese to congratulate Dayn on his promotion to High-ranked Priest, but Bishop Pello blocked it.”

“Although we are now the Queen’s family in Gambis, we must maintain a basic level of independence. In terms of divine arts, I cannot be controlled by Brinol Cathedral. Clement’s faction of clergy is a force I must unite with. So, I can only come quietly to congratulate Dayn on his promotion to High-ranked Priest.”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Sylvia asked faintly.

Victor raised his head alertly and asked with a frown, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, Clement saw through your intentions.” Sylvia smiled softly, her red lips parting. “You instigated Dayn to act first and report later because you were worried Clement would focus his main forces on the Kingdom of Naville, weren’t you? You wanted a Gold-rank priest, and now Clement has given you one.”

Chapter 494: A Storm is Brewing (Part 2)

“So that’s how it works…” Victor clicked his tongue in amazement and nodded. “Clement is too far from the Centaur Hills, but very close to Naville… That’s only part of the reason.”

Sylvia smiled, her lips pursed. “Half of Gambis and a good portion of Dodor are buying Randall Mutual Aid Vouchers. You must be very happy, aren’t you? The Monastery Council of Elders proposed that the vouchers be issued by territory, and that each territory’s Mutual Aid Association should not be allowed to sell vouchers to other territories. The Curia passed the proposal, but Clement used the Pope’s authority to temporarily suppress it. He had Pello tell me that he’ll give us two more years to use the vouchers to earn Mutual Aid funds from other territories. After two years, the vouchers can only be issued within our own territory.”

Victor laughed. “The Mutual Aid funds are just small change. The reach of the Goldwater City and Randall Mutual Aid Vouchers only covers most of Gambis and a small part of Dodor. I want to use the influence of the vouchers to sell paper all over the world.”

“Enbise thinks so too,” Sylvia nodded.

“There’s something else he doesn’t know.” A smile touched Victor’s lips as he raised an eyebrow. “The emergence of the Mutual Aid Association will make Clement realize the importance of a neutral commercial organization to him… I’m certain that The Golden Company and Clement will hit it off immediately. That’s why the first President of the Randall Mutual Aid Association is someone I arranged. He will be the one to realize all my plans for The Golden Company. If he can catch Clement’s eye, the Pope, for the sake of balance, won’t let Sophia kick him out of The Golden Company’s decision-making circle.”

Sylvia paused, then shook her head with a laugh. “You deliberately scheme against your own wife… I don’t even know what to say.”

“I feel so sorry for Sophia,” Trisley said, nodding emphatically. But the corners of her eyes and brows were crinkled in a sweet smile, showing no hint of sorrow.

“I simply believe I can do a better job than Sophia,” Victor said, unconcerned. “If she had half of your magnanimity, she would only be happy.”

Sylvia shot Victor a look and huffed, “Don’t think you can get away with acting on your own just because you complimented me!”

“I extricated you from the situation, the Centaur Hills gained a Gold-rank priest, and you didn’t offend Clement… Isn’t that a good thing?” Victor asked, spreading his hands.

At Sylvia’s level, she would never deign to lie when questioned by Bishop Pello. She would simply state whether she knew or not. But the signals sent and the consequences would be entirely different. If Victor had informed Sylvia beforehand, she would certainly have suppressed the Mutual Aid Association before handing it over to Clement.

Sylvia grabbed Victor’s pointed ear, gritting her teeth. “Pello mocked me for not being able to control my own man. Can I control you or not?”

Victor caught Sylvia’s soft little hand and said with a grin, “Of course you can. I promise I won’t flirt with other women… Besides, you wouldn’t want your man to be a complete yes-man, would you?”

Sylvia let Victor caress her jade hands and sighed, shaking her head. “A rank-5 priest needs four Adjudicators to fully unleash the power of his divine arts… The Randall diocese only has one Adjudicator, and Pello is about to transfer him away. In fact, Clement could transfer Father Dayn away too.”

Victor’s long, thin eyebrows furrowed as he asked in a low voice, “What are His Holiness Clement’s conditions?”

Sylvia was silent for a moment before letting out a breath. “Two months ago, one hundred thousand cavalry from the Sasan Empire, along with the Radiant Knights, the Temple Army, the Feliett family’s Horned Wolf Knights, the Teutonic Duchy’s Moon Bear Knights, and the Baselius family’s Griffin Knights, won a great victory in the Northern Wildlands…”

In the first days of the third month of the Season of Wind, the Radiant Knights mobilized fifty thousand soldiers from the Temple Army and joined forces with one hundred thousand Sasan cavalry, a grand army of one hundred fifty thousand in total, to advance on the territory of the Blackhoof tribe, the Centaur overlords of the Eastern Wildlands. The Blackhoof tribe fled without a fight. Over three hundred thousand Blackhoof Centaurs abandoned their territory, scattered their nearly one million vassal races, and migrated east.

The Radiant Knights split their forces. Thirty thousand Temple Army soldiers and seventy thousand Sasan cavalry remained behind to mop up the vassal races like the Gnolls, Goblins, and Kobolds. The Feliett Emperor personally led the Horned Wolf Knights, Griffin Knights, Moon Bear Knights, and thirty thousand elite cavalry, in coordination with the Radiant Knights, to pursue the Blackhoof Centaurs. They adopted a tactic of tailing them to ambush their rescuers. Dividing into dozens of units, they took turns attacking the old, weak, and young of the Blackhoof tribe, drawing out the Blackhoof warriors to different rescue locations, where they could then be eliminated. They continuously chipped away at the Blackhoof tribe’s effective strength, with the ultimate goal of assassinating the Great Khan of the Blackhoof, Orogar, before he could rendezvous with other Centaur tribes!

“Orogar is the Great Khan most likely to unify the Centaur tribes on the eastern side of the Northern Wildlands. If he is killed, it means the dozen or so Centaur tribes on the eastern border of the Sasan Empire will fall apart and resume their internal conflicts.”

Sylvia said, “Testier has already pursued them for over a thousand kilometers. Orogar has fewer and fewer Centaur warriors under his command. He’s finished!”

Victor mused, “My knowledge of Centaurs is limited… Why didn’t Orogar choose a pitched battle with the Radiant Knights, instead exposing his own weakness?”

Trisley explained, “Centaurs are highly mobile, but they rely on Goblins to grow stronger. The Goblins plant green wheat, raise herds of herbivores, and use Kobold slaves to mine ore and forge weapons. All of this requires stable territory. That’s why the major Centaur tribes have their own lands. The way Centaur tribes merge is also unique. The Khan of a large tribe periodically summons the chiefs of other tribes to a duel. Surrender means slavery, defeat means death, and victory means kingship. The Khans of any tribe that refuses the summons will be attacked, and their tribe members, demoralized, will often choose to surrender. It’s said that in the last forty years, the Blackhoof tribe has used this method of conquest to annex four other Centaur tribes, which also alerted the Sasan Empire.”

Sylvia smiled. “That’s right. Grand Commander Testier’s timing for the attack was particularly clever… Recently, Orogar issued a summons to the nearby tribes according to Centaur tradition. In the past, no Centaur tribe ever dared to answer his call to duel, but this time, seven Centaur tribes turned out in full force… The Radiant Knights’ and the Sasan Empire’s five-year campaign against the Blackhoof tribe has paid off… Seeing the Blackhoof’s weakness, these Centaur tribes finally found the courage to face them head-on… At least, in Orogar’s eyes, they were there to seize his territory.”

“Testier’s all-out offensive was the fatal blow to the Blackhoof tribe! Facing the massive human legion and the hostile Centaur tribes, Orogar was caught between a rock and a hard place. By choosing to retreat, the Blackhoof tribe still had a chance of survival. If he had chosen a pitched battle, he would have been doomed.”

After hearing Sylvia’s account, Victor was silent for a long time. The Centaurs had no ability to organize their own logistics, and by domesticating Goblins, they lost their famed mobility. Their reliance on Goblins was both their strength and their downfall.

On the other hand, the Goblin race was indeed terrifying.

Trisley frowned and asked, “Grand Commander Testier and His Majesty Feliett have stretched their battle lines so far… How are they handling supplies?”

“It’s a Season of Wind offensive… The Goblins in the Northern Wildlands have scattered green wheat seeds everywhere. Do you think the soldiers will have trouble finding food?”

Sylvia added lightly, “Aberrant war beasts just need meat to eat… I heard that centaur leg meat is edible when cooked, and tastes quite good.”

Trisley blinked and nodded. “If I have the chance, I’d like to try it too.”

Humans are the most savage of all… Victor secretly glanced at Sylvia and Trisley, raising a hand to his cheek.

“There’s no meat, but there’s plenty of centaur hide.”

Sylvia said with a smile, “Priest Kent from Raven Town came to see me. He proposed trading centaur hides for one hundred fifty million pounds of raw sugar. The specifics of the trade can be negotiated, but the York family has to sell half of the Centaur Vine-hide armor they make to the Sasan Empire.”

“Is centaur leather that good?” Victor asked.

“It’s tough and dense. Its defensive qualities far surpass cowhide armor.”

Victor was tempted, but he still shook his head. “The monopoly on raw sugar has already been given to Sophia. We cannot break our contract… Let the Sassans talk to Sophia.”

Sylvia explained, “Sophia is currently on the Arreat Plateau and won’t be back until next year. The Sasan Empire needs too large a quantity, and the steward of the Stag Merchants’ Guild is afraid you don’t have that much raw sugar, so he doesn’t dare to make the decision on his own. The Sasan Royal Family eventually found Priest Kent of the Temple Army, and now he’s asking me. Kent said you talked to him about Vine-hide armor and even gave him some ideas.”

“…I did give him some ideas.”

Victor paused, then shook his head. “I can satisfy the Sassans’ request for one hundred fifty million pounds of raw sugar, but a deal this large can’t be completed in a single year… I’ll provide thirty million pounds of raw sugar first, as a favor to Priest Kent and Wallace the Sacred Warrior… As for the rest of the deal, Sophia must have full authority. My love, we can’t go around her.”

“Of course not.” Sylvia nodded with a smile, then sighed and pouted. “What Kent means is that the Sassans are going to build a city in the Northern Wildlands… They plan to expand eastward by five hundred thousand square kilometers and immediately implement the tenant system… Our own expansion south of the river is still a distant prospect, yet the Sasan Empire is already making progress…”

“Er… What can we do? The Sassans and the Radiant Knights are in cahoots. Darling, we don’t need to rush… We haven’t even finished digesting the Centaur Hills yet,” Victor said comfortingly, squeezing Sylvia’s hand.

“Wearing the same pair of pants? The thought alone is amusing.”

Sylvia’s fingers intertwined with Victor’s as she shook her head with a smile. “We may not be in a hurry, but the people of Naville can’t sit still… They’ve run into difficulties building their water project, and seeing the Sassans expanding their territory in the Northern Wildlands, how could they not be green with envy? Patriarchs Clement and Tamor had strongly opposed Testier’s military adventure. His Majesty Rex refused the Radiant Knights’ invitation to send troops because of it. The Naville Royal Family is under immense pressure now. Clement hopes that Viscount Randell will visit the Kingdom of Naville and help them redesign their water project.”

“So that’s the condition the Pope offered you for cooperation. If you don’t agree, he really will transfer Father Dayn away.”

I’ve already achieved all my goals… So what if he’s transferred? Let’s see him try to transfer Miller… Victor was secretly amused, but his expression remained impassive as he asked, “What’s the specific difficulty?”

“It’s related to a Gold-rank Savage Gnoll…” Sylvia briefly explained the situation.

Victor was immediately interested. Having mastered the Surge talent, he was looking for an opponent. “Clement wants me to take out that Windfang?”

“He wants you to design the water project.” Sylvia rolled her eyes at Victor and said, “My love, don’t you understand yet? You went behind my back to scheme against Clement, and you’ve already caught his attention. He believes your talents are comparable to the noblewoman Arya’s, and he wants to be your Guide… Tournans is already hunting Windfang, so there might be results soon. In fact, whether you actually help Naville solve their problem or not, as long as you go, Clement will give you the credit, then preside over a Holy Light prayer and grant you the investiture of a Saint. By doing so, he wins favor with both you and me, counteracts some of the Radiant Knights’ influence, and boosts the morale of the southern expansion lords and the lords of Naville.”

A Saint? Like Draven? Being so famous isn’t necessarily a good thing for me… My every move would be watched, and the secret art of the mind I created would be exposed prematurely… It would be best to delay this for ten years and train a large batch of elite warriors first… Victor thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Clement wants to borrow my influence. I have no interest in cooperating with him.”

Sylvia smiled without a word. Trisley took Victor’s left hand and said softly, “My love, you should go.”

“Why?”

“Riding the momentum of their great victory, the Radiant Knights can draw mid- and high-rank clergy from every diocese… All that’s left for us are low-rank priests and low-rank Sacred Warriors.” Trisley looked into Victor’s eyes and said slowly, “If Father Dayn is transferred to the Sasan Empire, what was the point of you propping him up? We need the power of mid-rank and higher divine arts. We have no other choice.”

Sylvia added, “I want you to go, Aerie Fortress wants you to go, and Clement and Tamor both want you to go… We need to show the world that the results of internal development are just as worthy of anticipation. Only then will the voices within the Church not completely side with the Paladins.”

Under the tender gazes of the two women, Victor was caught in a dilemma. Suddenly, his ear twitched. “Nicole is here,” he said.

“Ah!” Trisley let out a soft cry, leaped to her feet, and dashed to the wardrobe. She yanked off her nightgown, grabbed a formal dress and clutched it to her chest, glaring at Victor. “Turn your head! No peeking!”

Seeing Trisley so flustered and embarrassed, Victor looked away sheepishly, listening to the rustle of her changing clothes.

Soon after, Nicole’s sweet voice came from outside the door. “Tutor Trisley? Victor? Is anyone in there? If not, I’m coming in…”

Just as Nicole was about to push the door, it was pulled open from the inside. Victor stood there, smiling at Nicole, who was dressed as the Viscount’s wife. Her jade hand, suspended in mid-air, moved to smooth out a wrinkle on Victor’s clothes. She winked mischievously with her beautiful, large eyes and chided, “My dear, you invited my Tutor to a banquet. What took you so long?” After speaking, she excitedly pushed past Victor, only to see Trisley in a long dress standing behind a sofa, upon which sat the incomparably radiant Sylvia.

“Ah… My Lady? What are you doing here?”

Nicole hastily moved to perform a one-knee kneel to Sylvia, but Victor caught her and gestured to her dress. Blushing, Nicole gathered her skirts and performed a curtsy instead.

Sylvia rose and walked gracefully to Nicole. She lifted her sharp chin, helping her up, and teased with a hidden meaning, “Darling Nicole, you’re late… You’ll have to be earlier next time.”

“Let’s go,” Trisley said, her delicate face cold, as she walked past the three of them.

Nicole, trailing at the back, quietly stuck out her tongue, looking both mischievous and cute. Victor took her hand and whispered, “Centaur leg meat, do you want to eat some?”

“Centaur meat?” Nicole looked at her lover, puzzled, then nodded. “If there was nothing else to eat, I would.”

It’s true… they’re exactly the same.

The celebratory evening banquet at Laketon Castle was held as scheduled. Father Dayn was particularly thrilled by Sylvia’s attendance and was plied with so much wine by Narsen and the others that he ended up drunk under the table, revealing the frail constitution of a High-ranked Priest.

After the banquet, Sylvia stayed at Silver Moon Manor for three days, but Victor still couldn’t make up his mind to go to the Kingdom of Naville and become a public target. Sylvia urged Victor to think it over, mentioning that the invitation from the Naville Royal Family was at Aerie Fortress and would be effective the moment he agreed. Trisley also clamored to return to Rose Manor to rest, though she was really just trying to lie low. Unable to persuade them to stay, Victor could only prepare carriages for his two ladies.

However, that night, Reno, the Alchemical militia, quietly found Victor and handed him a parchment scroll. “My lord, an important message has arrived from the Alchemical auxiliary soldiers following Master Edwin.”

Master Edwin was overseeing the construction of the water project for the Kingdom of Naville. He had selected a group of skilled craftsmen from the Centaur Hills who were adept at building canals and stream reservoirs, and among them were six Alchemical auxiliary soldiers. Their main task was to secretly survey and map the Kingdom of Naville.

Victor unrolled the scroll, his pupils contracting instantly. It read: Naville, Misty Mountains, Kachenathen Grand Canyon. Suspected Alchemy Tower discovered. Master Edwin calls it the Core of the Earth. Below the message was a detailed description of the Core of the Earth.

Was there any need to hesitate?

Victor tossed the scroll into the furnace, turned, and strode toward the master bedroom. He pushed the door open and called out to Sylvia, “My love, I’ve thought it through. I’m willing to visit Naville.”

Sylvia’s eyes lit up. She walked over to Victor, her snow-white arms wrapping around his neck, and said softly, “My love, will you ride with us in the carriage to Goldwater City and wait for the invitation?”

Victor shook his head. “Just the round trip to the Kingdom of Naville will take up a year of my time, and I still have many things to handle. You two go on ahead. I’ll set off in two days.”

Trisley walked over in her high heels, her voice cool. “We’ll wait two days for you and return to Rose Manor together.”

Chapter 495: Preparations Before Departure (Part 1)

The next morning, Victor and Nicole gathered Lilia, Narsen, and Magistrate Munk in the Administrative Hall of Laketon to formally announce the transfer of the lord’s authority.

“My visit to the Kingdom of Naville this time will be quite long. At the earliest, it will be two and a half years before I can return to the Randell Fief.”

Victor surveyed the heads of military, political, and security affairs for House of Randell and said slowly, “As usual, during my absence, Lady Nicole will be in charge of all internal, military, and security matters of the family. The three of you will answer only to Lady Nicole and are not to interfere in each other’s duties.”

“As you wish,” the three said in unison.

Victor nodded in satisfaction and said to the magistrate, “Monkey, you may leave us.”

“Yes, my lord. My Lady, I will take my leave.”

Monkey bowed to Victor and Nicole respectively, took a few steps back, then turned and left the council chamber, closing the door behind him.

“Now that the official business is concluded, we should discuss the lord’s travel arrangements… Hmph, so much for separating public and private matters. When you’re not home, I’ll just hand the security affairs over to Lilia.”

Nicole shot Victor a sidelong glance, pushed a letter across the table to him, and said in a charming voice, “This is the list of attendants I’ve drafted. See if you want to make any changes.”

Victor just smiled at Nicole’s little trick to win over Lilia. He picked up the letter, skimmed it quickly, and nodded. “Have Elina accompany me. Alice will stay at Silver Moon Manor. Also, Shirley and the other young noble’s handmaidens will stay behind… On this trip, I’ll be surveying terrain in the wilderness of Naville. I can’t look after everyone. Naville isn’t Gambis, after all. We must take the necessary precautions.”

“Alright.” Nicole took the letter back, made corrections with a quill, and said, “Klaus, Brandon, and Caligula will lead twenty of the lord’s attendants… Gru, Reno, and Shak will lead forty Swiftbird light cavalry, one hundred cavalry, and one hundred guards… Elina will lead twenty sword-wielding handmaidens, thirty household maids, and one hundred and twenty servants.” She looked up, asking for Victor’s opinion. “Is that acceptable?”

“That will do.”

Victor nodded, noticing Lilia press her lips together slightly, her fair, slender hands clenching and unclenching. He asked, “My dear, do you have anything to add?”

Lilia glanced up at Victor before quickly lowering her head, saying in a small, soft voice, “I want to go too… I’ve never accompanied you on a visit abroad before.”

Narsen immediately barked, “What would you go for? You can’t even protect yourself! You’ll just be a nuisance to my lord… Just stay home obediently!”

Her brother’s harsh tone and stern expression startled Lilia. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she didn’t dare to cry. In her memory, her brother was usually doting and rarely lost his temper. Every time he did, it concerned her safety, and she was not allowed to disobey in the slightest.

And it was true. Lilia held the authority of Steward of the Randell Fief and knew the family’s affairs like the back of her hand, but she neither possessed a noble bloodline nor formidable strength. Currently, the great lords of the various kingdoms were very interested in the secret behind the rise of House of Randell. And Lilia Randell was the easiest target to capture, as well as the most valuable one.

If Lilia were to disappear in Naville, the King of Naville would certainly appease Viscount Randell’s wrath with the heads of a few officials and a hefty ransom. But for the great nobles of Naville, it would all be worth it. Even if the Navillians didn’t make a move, the great lords of other kingdoms might be tempted to act.

Never underestimate the audacity of the titled nobles!

Narsen might not have fully grasped this principle, but he keenly sensed the danger involved. After all, he had personally slain a Court Earl.

Nicole rose from her seat, walked gracefully over to Lilia, and took her arm, leading her out. As they walked, she consoled her, “Dearest Lilia, if you run off, what will I do? Besides, after you arrive in Naville, he’ll be off to the wilderness to survey the terrain. You’ll be staying in the Royal Capital of Naville, so you’ll still be separated… yes, yes, I know you used to camp in the wilderness often, but look how well you’ve taken care of your skin now…”

The sound of the two women’s footsteps faded into the distance, and Victor sighed softly. His bond with Nicole was deep, so a separation of a few years didn’t bother her. Lilia, however, was in the prime of her life, but she would one day grow old. That was why she cherished every moment with Victor. This was the natural chasm between an Extraordinary Knight and an ordinary person.

In theory, the Mind Bloodline secret art could enhance an ordinary person’s strength and level of life, but the possibility of completely eliminating this natural chasm was minuscule. This was mainly because it was incredibly difficult for an ordinary person to grasp the state of Silent Void. Without thirty or forty years of arduous training, success was impossible. And even if they succeeded, the practitioner would already be in their twilight years, and it was hard to say how effective the Mind Bloodline secret art would be for them.

In truth, the Mind Bloodline secret art Victor had designed using X-3 and the Golden Toad Mystic Form was not very suitable for ordinary people; it was better suited for Knights who had naturally ignited the fire of the mind. In contrast, the simulated Mystic Form visualization method that Narsen had devised had more potential for widespread use. However, the potential of the simulated visualization method was limited. At most, it could allow a practitioner to ignite the fire of the mind and achieve the physical constitution of a level-three Sacred Warrior. To advance further depended on the practitioner’s individual talent and luck.

This was perfectly normal. It would be strange if ordinary people and geniuses were the same.

Of course, the theory of the Mind and Bloodline had only been around for a little over half a year and still had much room for improvement. Victor was eager to draw knowledge from the Wizards of Aerie Fortress and the Church to further perfect the Mind Bloodline secret art.

Lilia was not just Victor’s woman, but also his most capable assistant. Victor secretly resolved to design a Mind Bloodline secret art tailored for Lilia, one that could preserve her youth and grant her a long life.

Narsen didn’t have so many complicated thoughts. His sister now held great authority and lived a life of comfort and privilege; as her older brother, he was already content. Narsen was more concerned about his liege lord’s safety. He scratched the back of his head and said in a grave voice, “My lord, I feel that something isn’t right… How about I go with you?”

Victor chuckled and teased, “I’m not going to war, so why would I bring you along? Besides, you can’t even beat Aka now. What use would you be?”

“Aka is useless!” Narsen grumbled resentfully. “Even the mountain apes can run circles around him… He’s a big guy for nothing. In a real fight, I bet even a common soldier could kill him.”

Narsen had once locked Caligula in an arena with two male mountain apes, hoping to hone his fighting spirit. But the next day, Narsen found the bruised and swollen apes huddled by Caligula’s side, picking lice off him… It turned out Caligula had beaten the apes badly with just passive defense, but he didn’t have the offensive desire to kill them. The clever apes chose to submit to Caligula.

The mountain apes had sharp teeth and claws, and their strength and stamina far exceeded that of ordinary soldiers. But the simple-minded apes lacked the intelligence and fighting will—or rather, the cunning—of human soldiers. If a soldier were to sneak up behind Caligula with a refined iron spear and strike a vital point, he could definitely kill him.

In close-quarters combat, victory and defeat, life and death, are often decided in an instant. Any hesitation or mercy is extremely fatal. Take Narsen, for example. He would struggle to kill a Silver Knight and would have no chance of survival against a Gold Knight. Yet, if he managed to strike a Gold Knight in the head, the latter would surely die.

In a true life-or-death battle, ten Caligulas would be no match for Narsen.

Victor nodded and said seriously, “Nicole is still in the accumulation phase. I don’t want her to advance to Silver Knight prematurely. You must stay behind to help Lady Nicole handle any unexpected situations.”

Seeing the profound depth in Victor’s dark eyes, Narsen’s heart shuddered, and he agreed, “Yes!”

“Don’t worry about me… The number of people who can subdue me in the wilderness can be counted on one hand, and they are all renowned…”

Victor touched the Manticore detoxification Bone Bead and the Purple Gold Coin amulet hanging on his chest. After a moment of thought, he said, “Your concern is not unfounded… It is necessary for me to prepare a support force in secret… Have Iron Hammer send one hundred and twenty Elite Guards to Warhammer Camp 4. Also, I am dispatching thirty Warhounds to the mountain forest near Camp 4. Have the mountain stronghold nodes along the way set up trail markers.”

The five smuggling caravans under Iron Hammer’s command deal exclusively with Baron Garrott of the Kingdom of Naville. For convenient resupply and rest, the smuggling caravans brought along refugees and mountain folk to build several mountain stronghold camps at key points along the trade route. These camps are under the direct jurisdiction of House of Randell. They are isolated from the world, their locations are concealed, and without the help of the smuggling caravans, the camp dwellers cannot come and go freely, so there is no risk of leaks.

Warhammer Camp 4 is located deep in the mountain forests on the border between Baron Garrott’s fief and the Randt Imperial territory. It houses seventeen Alchemical militia, thirty-one Alchemical auxiliary soldiers, and over three hundred ordinary camp dwellers. Their main work is gathering wild fruits and making candied fruit. They also farm, raise pigs, practice martial arts, and train archer-huntsmen. At critical moments, Warhammer Camp 4 can muster an armed force of over one hundred men.

Although Warhammer Camp 4 is not within the borders of the Kingdom of Naville, it is House of Randell’s closest supply point to the kingdom. With the mobility of the Lithe Ape militiamen and the Alchemical Warhounds, they can infiltrate the Kachenathen Grand Canyon from Camp 4 in just over thirty days, providing Victor with powerful support.

“Alright. I’ll go find that boy Iron Hammer right now and have him prepare. He’ll lead the team himself and set up the trail markers.”

Narsen had just turned to leave when Victor called him back.

“Hey, don’t be in such a hurry…”

Victor paused, then lowered his voice and asked, “Do you remember the Wizard who was burned to death in Black Fortress Town six years ago?

“I remember! He was a gardener named Will.” Narsen’s memory of the Purification Ceremony in the square of the Black Fortress Town Church was still fresh. He said with emotion, “When the priest Purified him with the Holy Fire, the Devil inside him revealed its true form. It made vines grow from the stone and uttered a vicious curse, saying something like, ‘You will fail’… Truly an evil being!”

“Evil… hmm, Wizards are evil…”

Victor gave a dry cough, tapped the table, and said softly, “Narsen, you are my most trusted subordinate, so I might as well tell you: all the great lords want to keep Wizards… Lady Sylvia always mentions the gardener Will with great regret… If the York family had discovered he was a Wizard beforehand, they certainly would have hidden him away secretly… He might have been able to improve the Spiked Kidney Bean and feed countless commoners, or accelerate the growth of various medicinal herbs… I even think that if the matter hadn’t become such a huge incident, the Church might have chosen to secretly imprison the gardener Will instead of burning him to death in front of everyone.”

Narsen’s eyes went wide, and he stammered, “My… my lord, you… I, does House of Randell also… have a Wizard?”

“Not ‘also have,’ but ‘want to have’…”

Victor nodded and said, “What I mean is, the population of the Randell Fief is growing denser, so it’s possible a Wizard might appear. If you discover a Wizard among the people of the Randell Fief, do your best to protect them until I return to deal with the matter. If the Wizard’s abilities are useful to us, I will keep him. If not, I can always hand him over to some clergyman… In fact, all the great families do this… For example, if a certain Wizard could make your son as powerful as you, what would you choose?”

“I… I…” Narsen’s face was a mess of conflicted emotions, just like his heart at that moment.

Victor chided, “In short, if a Wizard appears in the Randell Fief, don’t be a fool and report it to the Church. That would leave Father Dayn with no room to maneuver. Understand?”

Hearing this, Narsen’s conflicted expression became very strange, but he eventually relaxed and said in a low voice, “My lord, I will follow your orders.”

Victor nodded and said, “I have already spoken with Nicole, Lilia, Monkey, and the village heads of each village separately… To prevent a desperate evil Wizard from causing serious harm to the people or creating panic, House of Randell, following the traditional practices of the great families, will establish secret contact points in each village and town. If the populace discovers a Wizard, they are not to publicize it. They must report it quietly to the village head, who will report it to a liaison. Then, a special team will secretly investigate the target and carry out a clandestine capture. All you need to do is feign ignorance, eliminate any influence within the army, the Magistrate’s Office, and among the villagers, and strictly prohibit your subordinates from starting false rumors or spreading gossip.”

Narsen instantly let out a sigh of relief, patting his chest resoundingly. “My lord, rest assured! I know what to do!”

Victor lowered his gaze and said faintly, “In another three years, the population of the Randell Fief will exceed one hundred and eighty thousand. Who’s to say whether a Wizard will appear among them. You must remember, Wizards are not your concern. Don’t get yourself or Lilia involved… You may go.”

“Yes, my lord!” Narsen thumped his fist against his chest in a military salute, but remained standing with a grin.

Victor looked up and asked in surprise, “Is there something else?”

“Well…” Narsen sidled closer with a fawning look and said in a low voice, “My lord, if… if there really is a Wizard who can help my son increase his strength… could you?”

“Isn’t that obvious? If I had such a Wizard, would I have waited until now?” Victor said, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

“Then if you discover such a Wizard in the future…”

“Do you think Wizards are heads of lettuce in a field? You can just have any kind you want? Get out!”

Chapter 497: Preparations Before Departure (Part 2)

Victor had always been somewhat suspicious of Beldina’s true identity. He feared that while he was away, the little foodie might suddenly awaken her powers, manifesting wizardry phenomena that would get her captured by Church priests and burned at the stake. So, he made the necessary arrangements in advance and gave Narsen and the others a subtle heads-up.

After giving his instructions, Victor led his personal guard to Hill Camp, which was now known as the Hill Secret Fortress.

The personal guard stopped at the checkpoint below the secret fortress. Accompanied by Reno and Shak, Victor crossed the heavy, seven-meter-long, four-meter-wide drawbridge.

Jack, the first of the Lithe Ape militiamen, had been waiting at the entrance for some time. He came forward and bowed, saying, “My lord, one hundred Lithe Ape militiamen, twenty Crouching Ox Militiamen, and thirty Alchemical Warhounds are ready. They can set out for Warhammer Camp 4 at any time.”

“Take me to see them.”

Jack led Victor through several maze-like alleyways to the wooden door of a courtyard and knocked. From behind the green brick wall came the arrogant barking of sentinel hounds. These sharp-nosed creatures had scented a stranger, but when they saw their master open the door and bow to said stranger, their ears flattened and they began to wag their tails at him, fawning excessively. Inside the courtyard, a dozen burly and robust guard hounds were tied to wooden posts. They showed no particular reaction to the stranger, merely lying about lazily.

The sentinel hounds bred by Imosen possessed a strict sense of hierarchy and group coordination. The guard hounds he bred were loyal and fearlessly brave. The difference between the two stemmed from their intelligence. The Alchemical Warhounds, on the other hand, possessed both high intelligence and fearless bravery.

Thirty Warhounds, as large as calves with blue-black fur, ran to Victor’s side, wagging their tails and scattering the sentinel hounds in a panic. Victor gestured for the Warhounds to sit, then turned his gaze to the center of the courtyard, where one hundred and twenty Alchemical militia bowed to him in near-perfect unison.

“My lord, good day.”

The synchronized chorus of voices was powerful, but Victor frowned.

Inexperienced farmers could be dull and ignorant, but they must never offend vassals and nobles. Distinguishing and greeting one’s superiors was a social skill Victor required all Alchemical humans to master. But their movements were so uniform they looked like products off an assembly line. Placed together, they were extraordinarily conspicuous, and it would be easy for someone to spot that something was amiss.

This could only mean that they were a group of rookie Alchemical militia.

“How old are these men?” Victor asked.

Jack replied, “Thirty are one year old, fifty-nine are two, twenty-two are three, six are four, and three are five.”

Victor shook his head and asked, “Only nine Elite Guards… Can’t you transfer more?”

“My lord, a small portion of the Randell Fief’s Elite Guards are in your personal guard, and the rest are scattered across various posts… You gave me too little time to prepare. I could only mobilize Alchemical militia from the mountain stronghold,” Jack said.

Victor was speechless. The Randall family’s operations had grown too large, and they were running short on Elite Guards aged four and above. He walked forward to inspect the Alchemical militia’s equipment.

They were uniformly outfitted in suits of chainmail paired with Vine-hide hard armor, refined iron helmets, hard leather greaves, leather combat boots studded with iron plates, and hard leather gloves. Each carried a heavy recurve bow and a crossbow, with a refined iron scimitar and a short dagger hanging from his waist. In the sunlight, each Alchemical militiaman shimmered with a faint blue light. Their builds were robust, their expressions wooden, and their eyes indifferent, giving off a profound impression of valiant, grim, and elite soldiers.

“No, this is too eye-catching,” Victor said with a frown. “The key is to conceal their identities… None of this fine equipment can be used. They also need to be trained in the common customs of Quicksilver Manor!”

“I’m afraid there isn’t enough time,” Jack said.

“There is. Travel is difficult during the rainy and snowy seasons. I will definitely be spending the winter in the Royal Capital and won’t head to Naville until the Season of Earth next year. At a lord’s pace of travel, it will take me about eight months to reach the capital of Naville. You will take them to Quicksilver Manor for two months of intensive training on common customs. They just need to arrive at Warhammer Camp 4 before autumn next year.”

“Then what about their weapons and equipment?”

“Weapons and equipment? Heh.” A confident smile appeared on Victor’s face. “I’ve been developing my smuggling caravan for so long that I have seven of my own stronghold camps. If I can’t even handle the equipment and supplies for one hundred and twenty men, I might as well go kill myself with a block of tofu!”

“Travel light. Iron Hammer will be responsible for the Alchemical militia’s equipment and supplies!”

“Yes, my lord!” Jack paused for a moment, then asked, “My lord, what kind of weapon is a ‘tofu’? Do I need to record it and have the mountain stronghold replicate it?”

To be able to kill the Master… a tofu must be a very powerful weapon.

“…I don’t know! And don’t ever mention ‘tofu’ again!”

The corner of Victor’s mouth twitched. His expression hardened as he changed the subject. “Is the new war bow I asked for ready?”

“It was completed two months ago.” Jack nodded and beckoned to a nearby Alchemical auxiliary soldier. “Bring the master’s war bow over.”

The Alchemical auxiliary soldier turned and walked into a green brick storehouse. A short while later, he returned with a metal recurve shortbow and two quivers of adamantine arrows.

The recurve shortbow was pitch-black. The metal was Dragonbone Steel, unique to the Dodor Kingdom, and its shape was modeled after the Eagle Wing Bow that Princess Sus had given Victor. However, the bowstring was not Mithril, but a more pliable Spider silk bowstring.

Victor put on his gauntlets and took the metal bow, giving it a test draw. The pull was a full 380 pounds, equivalent to the strength of two men to draw it fully. Although the draw weight of this metal war bow was far from the limit of his Surge talent, it allowed for a maximum rate of fire and stability, meeting the needs of a Wind Walk Archer for mobile shooting and stamina conservation. He could use it to perform three extraordinary arrow techniques, creating a wide variety of tactics.

First was the Wind Walk Arrow. A gentle breeze wrapped around the arrow, consuming no vigor at all. The arrow’s initial velocity was 246 meters per second, with an effective kill radius of 470 meters. Its power was comparable to an 800-pound Standard Battle Crossbow, and with adamantine arrows, it could pierce refined iron armor. While moving at high speed, Victor could fire five Wind Walk Arrows in four seconds, killing five fleeing wild wolves.

Second was the Gale Arrow. A cyan-black gale swirled around the arrow, consuming a small amount of vigor. The initial velocity of the arrow was 307 meters per second, with an effective kill radius of 712 meters. Its power was comparable to a 1100-pound military heavy crossbow and could penetrate 14 centimeters into an Iron-oak target placed behind adamantine armor. Furthermore, the air turbulence clinging to the arrow would tear the wound, causing secondary internal damage. It could also disrupt the target’s balance and movement, causing a brief pause, stagger, slow, or knockback. When Victor used the Gale Arrow, his movement speed decreased significantly, and his rate of fire was one shot every 1.3 seconds.

Third was the Charged Shot, Victor’s ultimate attack. It could only be performed from a stationary position. After charging for eleven seconds, the power of the void wind element would reach its peak. The arrow would be imbued with elemental damage, rendering it unstoppable, and it carried armor-piercing properties, void wind element turbulence, and the burning and paralyzing effects of lightning. Its initial velocity reached a terrifying 624 meters per second, with an effective kill radius of 1287 meters.

Within four hundred meters, if an enemy couldn’t accurately predict the moment Victor released his shot, even a Gold Knight would fall to his Charged Shot.

Of course, if the enemy was a Gold Knight, that distance was equally dangerous for Victor. He would only have one chance to shoot. If he missed, he would have to quickly pull away, or else face the enemy in close combat.

The Charged Shot consumed a great deal of vigor. At Victor’s current level, his limit was to use it eight times in succession. After that, he would be completely drained of vigor and fall into a semi-conscious state, without even the strength to flee.

According to X-3’s calculations, using a Charged Shot at sixty percent power once every thirty minutes was the most reasonable combat plan.

Victor took out an adamantine-tipped arrow and drew the Spider silk bowstring again. The Dragonbone Steel limbs of the bow tensed like an eagle folding its wings for a dive. The cyan-black airflow around the arrow turned deep blue. The void wind element vibrated frictionally, and fine sparks of lightning wrapped around the arrow, emitting a dense crackling sound as an extremely dangerous aura spread out.

Vwong!

The bowstring vibrated. The arrow shot out like a bolt of lightning, transforming into an indigo stream of light that instantly crossed a kilometer, pierced a wooden fence in the upper camp, and vanished without a trace. The berserk void wind element exploded from the hole in the fence, splintering into more than a dozen turbulent currents that, like sharp razors, tore the surrounding Iron-oak into irregular shards.

A Charged Shot at sixty percent power posed a fatal threat even to a Gold rank expert.

A Wind Walk Archer did not rely on Mithril equipment; this Dragonbone Steel shortbow was sufficient to unleash Victor’s three extraordinary arrow techniques. As for why the Alchemical auxiliary soldier had crafted it in the shape of the Eagle Wing Bow, that was merely to satisfy Victor’s aesthetic desires.

Victor was very pleased with the new war bow. He held it in his hands, stroking and admiring it, when a series of hurried horn blasts suddenly echoed from the upper camp. Immediately following were the sounds of squads of soldiers’ footsteps and the frantic barking of sentinel hounds from outside the camp.

“My lord, the upper camp has sounded an alarm,” Jack said.

Victor glanced at the war bow in his hand, then looked up at the惨miserable state of the Iron-oak fence in the upper camp. He handed the bow to Reno, clasped his hands behind his back, and said in a calm and nonchalant manner, “I know. I was just testing the defense mechanisms of the Hill Secret Fortress.”

Jack thought for a moment and said, “My lord, if the secret fortress guards can’t find the attacker, according to regulations, they will release a messenger crow to request your assistance. If you don’t respond, the guards will request aid from Lord Narsen, and finally from Lady Nicole… If none of you three respond, the fortress guards must destroy the Snow Sugar and coffee production workshops as soon as possible.”

“Er… then, call off the alarm,” Victor said, rubbing his nose. He turned and walked towards the gate, saying as he went, “Jack, get on with the task I gave you… Reno, Shak, we’re going to the Alchemy Tower.”

A series of whistles to call off the alarm sounded one after another. By the time Victor walked into the Alchemy Tower’s cavern, the Hill Secret Fortress had returned to its usual tranquility.

The population of Randell Fief was growing denser, and with it came spies from various major powers. It was an open secret that the Hill Secret Fortress held the Randall family’s secret formula for producing Snow Sugar and coffee, but no one knew that the coffee and Snow Sugar were just a front. The purpose was to use this as a pretext to declare the Hill Secret Fortress a forbidden ground within the Randell Fief. The real secret Victor wanted to hide was the Alchemy Tower cavern in the upper camp.

The cavern was filled with miscellaneous items, making it look like an unimportant natural storage room. Victor led Reno and Shak through a narrow passage formed by stacked wooden crates and into the inner cave where the Alchemy Tower was located.

Spring water trickled. Red, yellow, blue, and green lights intertwined and shone brilliantly. Directly above the altar, countless mystical runes revolved around a completely naked, ethereal man. This was an Alchemical auxiliary soldier about to step into the physical world.

Victor watched for a moment, then connected his consciousness to the Tower Spirit. “King, cease the production task immediately,” he ordered.

“My lord, ceasing the production task now will result in a loss of five hundred Gold Sols,” King warned.

Victor was unmoved. “Execute the order.”

“As you wish.”

The mysterious runes swiftly dissipated. The ethereal image of the Alchemical auxiliary soldier gradually blurred and finally vanished completely. The multi-colored, dazzling cavern returned to its dim, ordinary state.

Victor tapped the alchemical altar, which had returned to its simple, ancient appearance, and said in his mind, “King, report the current basic information of the Alchemy Tower.”

“Alchemy Tower No. 7. Total Soul Fire units: 12,380. Soul Fire used: 11,210. Remaining Soul Fire: 1,170. Reserve funds: 127,060 Gold Sols. Current inventory: 162 Crouching Ox Militiamen, 578 Lithe Ape militiamen, 667 Alchemical auxiliary soldiers, 104 Alchemical Warhounds, 477 alchemical crows, 6 Alchemical Dragon-Lizards.”

“The number of alchemical creatures is ample, and the financial reserves are healthy. Not bad.”

Victor nodded and smiled. “King, my Alchemical auxiliary soldiers have discovered a suspected Alchemy Tower. What are your thoughts?”

“I am eager to integrate its Rune Crystal,” King replied without hesitation, its tone as flat as ever.

“How come I don’t detect any hint of happiness in your voice?” Victor said, rubbing his chin teasingly.

“My lord, I will never have the function to express emotions.” The voice King projected into Victor’s mind was completely devoid of inflection. “But I can feel my lord’s excitement and joy.”

“Mm, we are one and the same,” Victor laughed. “I have long been looking forward to repairing the memory upload function of Alchemy Tower No. 7!”

“Besides repairing the memory function, we can also upgrade the base level of the Alchemy Tower,” King reminded him.

“We’ll talk about that later.” Victor waved his hand habitually, a lingering fear in his heart. “Last time, the process of recovering the fragmented Rune Crystal in the Gloomy Forest was not pleasant at all… That Rune Crystal nearly drained all the water element from my body. I never want to joke with my own life again… This time, I’ve decided to use a different method to retrieve the Rune Crystal. I’m going to bring you there and let you integrate the Rune Crystal yourself.”

“Do you think it’s feasible?” Victor asked.

“It is worth a try. My lord, our souls are bound. The worst-case scenario is that I am unable to integrate and absorb the Law of Creation from that Rune Crystal, but our own connection will not change, nor will I be damaged by it.” King gave an affirmative answer, then added, “However, I must remind you, my lord, that once I leave this place where the four elements converge, my autonomous consciousness will be frozen. We will be unable to communicate in any way, nor will you be able to issue me any commands or instructions. This will be the case unless the void element at the location of the suspected Alchemy Tower is still in a state of balanced convergence. In that case, I can rebuild Alchemy Tower No. 7 on the spot and re-establish contact with you. If the suspected Alchemy Tower does not meet this condition, you will have to bring me back here to reactivate Alchemy Tower No. 7.”

Victor asked thoughtfully, “So?”

“You must preset the repair projects for Alchemy Tower No. 7,” King replied.

“What specific functions are awaiting repair?”

King said, “One: Upgrade the base level of Alchemy Tower No. 7. You would gain higher authority within the Alchemical Empire, the Soul Fire capacity of Alchemy Tower No. 7 would multiply, and it would be able to load more functional modules.”

“Two: Repair the memory upload function. When an Alchemical human produced by Alchemy Tower No. 7 dies, their memories right before death, as well as the skills they have mastered, will be transmitted back to the Alchemy Tower. For a certain fee in gold, Alchemy Tower No. 7 can generate new skills.”

“Three: Repair the rapid production function. When Alchemy Tower No. 7 activates rapid production, the efficiency of creating alchemical creatures increases by thirty percent, and the production cost also increases by thirty percent.”

“Four: Repair the communication transfer function. Alchemy Tower No. 7 can connect with other activated Alchemy Towers to transmit information, acquire their stored alchemical creature skills, or copy their functional modules. The initiative in these interactions is determined by respective authority levels. A tower with lower authority must submit a request to a higher-authority tower and obtain the consent of its master to transmit information. A higher-authority tower can directly extract skills and functional modules from a lower-authority tower’s reserves, but it has no authority to manipulate the other’s production activities or alchemical units.”

“Five: Repair the information preservation function. During the process of integrating with other Rune Crystals, Alchemy Tower No. 7 can save their functional modules.”

A thought struck Victor, and he asked, “If I repair the information preservation function, does that mean that Alchemy Tower No. 7 can acquire the functional modules of other Alchemy Towers and form new functions, such as producing new alchemical units?”

“Correct. But the prerequisite is to upgrade my base level so that I can load new production function modules,” King finished explaining, then added, “My lord, I strongly recommend you set upgrading the base level of Alchemy Tower No. 7 as the primary objective.”

The highest level for an Alchemy Tower was ten, with a Soul Fire capacity of fifty thousand points. It could also load all of the Alchemy Tower’s functions and produce different types of alchemical units, such as Dragon Warriors, Savi Warriors, and so on.

Upgrading the Alchemy Tower’s base level was of course important. The last time he repaired Alchemy Tower No. 7, King had suggested upgrading its base level, but Victor had rejected it.

This was because increasing Soul Fire capacity was not the same as increasing the amount of Soul Fire. The Rune Crystal in the Gloomy Forest had no Soul Fire units at all, whereas Alchemy Tower No. 7 had undergone a mutation after absorbing the Ant-man chief’s Soul Fire. Its current Soul Fire capacity and units had reached 12,380 points.

Upgrading the level of Alchemy Tower No. 7 would not directly translate into combat strength, so he had chosen to repair the production function for Alchemical Dragon-Lizards instead.

The problem now was that it wasn’t even certain if the ruin in the Kachenathen Grand Canyon was an Alchemy Tower. Assuming it was indeed an ownerless Alchemy Tower, its state of preservation would determine the extent of repairs for Alchemy Tower No. 7.

If it was a complete, level-ten Alchemy Tower, and King absorbed it, Alchemy Tower No. 7 would immediately reach its peak. Of course, the probability of this was almost zero. Alchemy Tower No. 7 was already incomplete, and the Rune Crystal from the Gloomy Forest was even more fragmented, only repairing the function to produce Alchemical Dragon-Lizards.

The Kachenathen Alchemy Tower was most likely also fragmented. How many functions King could repair would be purely a matter of luck. Therefore, Victor had to establish an order of priority for Alchemy Tower No. 7’s repair projects.

The greatest advantage of Alchemical humans was their ability to learn; their greatest weakness was their short lifespan. The memory upload function could extract the skills mastered by Alchemical humans and load them into the Will Side of other Alchemical humans. In essence, the memory upload function represented the Alchemy Tower’s ability to learn and evolve. Victor had already tasted the benefits of the Crouching Ox and Lithe Ape militiamen, and he greatly looked forward to the emergence of Eagle-Lion, Gray-Wolf, and War-Ape militiamen. Perhaps in the future, he would have even better Mind Bloodline secret arts for the Alchemical humans to learn.

Repairing the memory upload function was definitely the first priority.

The Alchemist’s line of succession had been broken. Every Rune Crystal was fragmented and damaged, making it impossible to restore the Alchemy Tower’s related functional modules. Once one was used, it was gone forever.

When Victor used the Gloomy Forest Rune Crystal to repair Alchemy Tower No. 7’s function for producing Alchemical Dragon-Lizards, the Dragon Warrior and Savi Warrior production functions within that Rune Crystal were lost.

Even a clever housewife can’t cook a meal without rice. Without functional modules, the Alchemy Tower had no ability to produce new alchemical units.

Alchemy Tower No. 7 should first repair its information preservation function, collect various precious production functional modules, and then upgrade its base level to load and activate new production functions.

Victor weighed the pros and cons and finally said to King, “First priority: repair the memory upload function. Second priority: repair the information preservation function. Third priority: use the information preservation function to extract functional modules from other Rune Crystals. Fourth priority: upgrade the base level of Alchemy Tower No. 7. Repairing the rapid production function can be fifth… As for repairing the communication transfer function… Heh, that useless function is optional. Put it last!”

“Task priority established,” King responded. “My lord, you may now retrieve the Rune Crystal of Alchemy Tower No. 7.”

Victor took a step forward and placed his palm on the alchemical altar. Cracks spiderwebbed across the altar’s surface as light seeped out from within, growing increasingly brilliant. The altar split into several stone blocks that levitated in mid-air, revealing the Rune Crystal hidden in the center. Victor extended a finger and tapped it lightly. Amidst a beautiful, swirling mist of light, the exquisite Rune Crystal transformed into four mysterious runes—yellow, red, blue, and green—that were impossible to remember and impossible to replicate. They slowly revolved around his finger. The stone blocks that had formed the altar crashed to the ground with a tremendous boom that shook the entire cave.

The runes representing the four great elements merged into his palm at his will, then reappeared, transforming back into a Rune Crystal that others could not touch.

Victor repeated the test several times to confirm it was working correctly, then absorbed the runes into the skin of his left hand. He looked at his left hand, which showed no abnormalities, and muttered to himself with a shake of his head, “Alchemy Tower No. 7 carved off one point of my Soul Fire… Does this make me complete?”

After dealing with the Rune Crystal of Alchemy Tower No. 7, Victor rushed to Laketon without stopping. He needed to add another layer of insurance for himself.

A simple ring of wooden sheds had been set up on the west side of the cathedral construction site, where craftsmen could eat and drink. Father Miller stood behind a long table, smiling as he ladled hot Earth root soup for every worker who came to drink and rest. A long line of workers had formed in front of the old priest. Suddenly, a slight commotion broke out at the end of the line. People turned to look and saw the site supervisor, Village Head Moline, leading a handsome, black-haired, black-eyed nobleman forward.

The workers doffed their hats one by one and bowed to the young, handsome nobleman.

“Master, good day.”

“Honored Master, my respects to you.”

“Benevolent and generous Master, may the supreme Lord of Radiance protect you and House of Randell.”

Victor kept his eyes forward and strode quickly to the front, pulling the old priest away toward his temporary quarters.

There are so many people, how could I possibly respond to them all… Just nodding would make me look like a ridiculous chicken pecking at rice.

Once inside, Miller shook off Victor’s arm and grumbled, “You little rascal. Coming to find me instead of keeping your good ladies company must mean trouble.”

Victor bolted the door, rolled up his sleeve, and held out his slender, fair left hand, waving it in front of Miller. “Old man,” he whispered, “take a look. Is there anything different about me?”

Miller examined it carefully, then reached out and pinched it. His expression grew grave as he said, “This isn’t normal…”

Victor’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach. On this trip to Naville, he would inevitably have to deal with Clement. If Miller could see the Rune Crystal hidden in his left hand, the Pontiff might be able to see it too.

The difference was, the old God-favored one most likely knew of the Alchemy Tower’s existence, but for some unseen reason, he couldn’t discuss it in detail with Victor. Clement, on the other hand, representing the high-level leadership of the Church, might know some of the history of the Alchemical Empire; after all, the Church’s accumulated knowledge was a legacy from the Chosen. It was truly difficult to predict what measures Clement would take regarding Victor’s Rune Crystal.

“Your hand… looks more like a woman’s hand than a woman’s hand,” Miller said, shaking his head and smacking his lips with relish.

“Old man… you!”

Being teased by Father Miller like this actually made Victor relax. He feigned exasperation and pressed, “I don’t have time to joke with you! Use your Art of True Sight and see, is there really anything abnormal about me?”

Father Miller’s sly smile vanished, and his expression became exceptionally serious. “Victor, you are a resourceful viscount lord, and I am just an old priest with limited knowledge. You should not be seeking my advice; on the contrary, I should be humbly learning from you… The one who makes the final decision can only be you. You must take responsibility for your own decisions and bear the corresponding consequences. If you want to master your own destiny, you cannot be superstitious about others!”

“You must remember this. This is the principle of our association.”

Chapter 497: Traveling Companion

The battlefield of powerful God-favored individuals is not in the physical world.

Victor finally understood why the upper echelons of the Church held such a view of the God-favored.

Miller was perhaps the most powerful priest alive today, yet his status was utterly incommensurate with his extraordinary power. On the rare occasions he did appear, he did so under heavy disguise, never overstepping the identity of a level-two priest. For instance, when he gave Victor the purple-gold coin amulet, he had to do so by invoking a legend of the ignorant country folk.

Victor could sense the profound suppression deep within Miller’s heart, which sparked many conjectures in his mind.

Who could place such immense pressure on a Saint-realm priest?

The very first article of the Radiant Code, established by the first Pope Inoc, forbade the clergy from interfering in worldly affairs in the name of a god. He was clearly targeting his own kind—the God-favored of the Lord of Radiance. This also confirmed that Inoc sabía that the God-favored could, through the Lord of Radiance, hear what should not be heard and see truths that should not be seen. Once the truth was revealed, it could have unforeseeable and severe consequences for the human world. Therefore, Inoc did not permit the God-favored to speak nonsense; anything they said would be a lie, a blasphemy against the Lord, and would result in the stripping of their holy power.

Assuming the ancient Alchemists and Archmages had jointly created the Lord of Radiance, in what way would they have left behind those key pieces of information for their descendants?

Perhaps only Miller knew the answer to that question. What Victor could be certain of was that the truth included the hypothetical enemies of the ancient Alchemists and Archmages—the adversaries the Lord of Radiance was meant to face.

Adversaries on the level of gods, whom the Radiant Church called Devils and the Knights called evil gods.

If the Pope, the Pontiff, and the God-favored could wield the authority of the Great Divination, how could the “Devils,” who were on the same level as the Lord of Radiance, possibly have no grasp of the power of fate?

The moment Miller saw the truth and learned of his opponent’s power, he immediately lost his nerve. He cautiously worked to eliminate the “Devils’” interference in the physical world, terrified that humanity’s destiny might be altered, leading to the utter defeat of the Lord of Radiance. After all, the Lord of Radiance was dependent on humanity’s power of faith.

The great nobles and the Church hierarchy all explained the self-suppression of top-tier God-favored in this way, and Victor accepted this explanation.

However, high-ranking Knights were generally unconcerned with Devils, evil gods, or similar beings. They saw the vast Elemental Sea and firmly believed that no existence in the physical world could transcend the limits of its laws. The elemental power wielded by Spirit Knights was the absolute limit the physical world could contain.

If an evil god dared to enter the physical world, its form would inevitably be materialized, and a Spirit Knight could certainly kill it for good. If an evil god could not manifest in the physical world, its power was meaningless.

In truth, this understanding stemmed from the laws of the world that humanity’s strongest had touched upon. But for most people, Devils and evil gods were just monsters from myths and legends, useful for scaring children to sleep and nothing more.

Such esoteric beings were too far removed from Victor. He had only wanted to borrow the power of a God-favored to conceal the Alchemy Tower’s secrets, but Miller had refused him. However, this did not change Victor’s plan to take Alchemy Tower No. 7 to the Kachenathen Grand Canyon.

He was now like a poor boy who had stumbled upon a great windfall. It could allow him to soar to success, but it would also attract envy and invite disaster. If this was a windfall he couldn’t get rid of, his only way out was to rapidly convert it into his own strength, making himself so powerful that others wouldn’t dare to be envious.

The repair mechanism of Rune Crystals, which involved them devouring and integrating with one another, caused the masters of Alchemy Towers to be mutually hostile. Yet Victor wasn’t worried about potential competitors; at least, he had yet to discover any rivals of his kind aside from the Ant-man. The problem was that the Alchemy Tower had the potential to shatter the balance of power among the human kingdoms.

Shattering the balance meant strife and conflict until a new equilibrium was reached.

Putting himself in their shoes, if the master of Alchemy Tower No. 7 were that young fellow Primo Briatte, would Victor, as the stronger party, be able to sit by and watch his neighbor’s strength grow continuously while he did nothing?

The Centaur Hills implemented water projects and New Agro-husbandry, and other lords also promoted New Agro-husbandry and stream reservoirs. Victor created the tenant system and the Mutual Aid Association, and the major powers studied and emulated them. Sophia reached a trade agreement with the barbarians, and Marquess Ephesus of the Kingdom of Borea went so far as to act as a pawn for the Radiant Knights just to jump out and bring her down. Sylvia herself admitted she couldn’t monopolize the rock brick technology, choosing to compromise, share it, and exchange it for other benefits.

When it came to core interests and fundamental security, great lords would take by clever means if they could. If they couldn’t, they’d steal. If they couldn’t steal, they’d buy. If they couldn’t buy, they’d rob. And if robbery was useless, their only recourse was to fight. Only after being defeated would they kneel… What great lord who did nothing wouldn’t be an idiot?

Rock bricks could be sold, but the Alchemy Tower was soul-bound to Victor. How could he sell it?

Victor had no path of retreat, only the way forward. His efforts to win over the York family, establish The Golden Company, and form a mercenary army were all in preparation for the strife to come.

In fact, Victor had a premonition that the secret of the Alchemy Tower wouldn’t hold for much longer. The volume of goods being shipped from the mountain stronghold and the Great Marsh was growing ever larger and becoming difficult to explain away. With the rise of the market in Pine Forest Town, the goods flowing out of the Randell Fief would inevitably attract the attention of various powers. All they had to do was check the tithe records submitted by House of Randell with the Church to see the discrepancies.

Furthermore, the simple-minded alchemical humans’ lack of interest in women was particularly conspicuous. Many tenant households in the Randell Fief wanted to marry their daughters to the alchemical soldiers, but they were all brushed off with the excuse that the soldiers wanted to join the lord’s personal guard. To conceal the peculiarity of the alchemical humans, Victor required members of his personal guard to swear an oath: not to take a wife, not to have children, to be unburdened by family, and to serve the lord with their whole heart and soul. Only after retiring could members of the personal guard start a family.

Such a small trick could only solve the problem temporarily. Even if Victor replaced his entire personal guard with alchemical humans, they wouldn’t live past fifteen years.

Might makes right. Victor could not afford to miss any opportunity to enhance the Alchemy Tower’s power… even if it meant taking some risks.

In the middle of the first month of the Season of Water, Victor and Sylvia returned to Rose Manor in Goldwater City. An invitation from the Kingdom of Naville was already lying on Sylvia’s desk.

“This invitation arrived far too quickly.”

Victor put down the invitation, leaned back against the soft cushions of the sofa, his expression a mixture of confusion and a hint of unease.

The handwriting on the invitation was neat and graceful, clearly penned by a lady. The crucial thing was that Victor recognized the handwriting. The writer had once shared an intimate “tutor and disciple” relationship with the little Baron.

Countess Carolyn Grehwald, a silver female knight of the Kingdom of Gambia, and also the half-sister of the Gold Knight, Farul Rex. When Carolyn was six, the royal families of Naville and Gambis engaged in an exchange of children for fostering and marriage alliances. Carolyn came from Naville to Gambis, took up residence in Aerie Fortress, and adopted the Auguste surname. Later, she married the eldest son of Marquess Grewald, becoming Countess Grehwald.

Although Carolyn’s brother was the King of Naville’s most trusted right-hand man, she herself was undoubtedly a high-ranking female knight of the Auguste family.

Since when could the Augustes write invitation letters on behalf of the Rex family?

If this invitation didn’t bear the postscript and seal of Brinol Cathedral, Victor would have doubted its authenticity.

Sylvia took the invitation from Victor’s hand, placed it on the table, and said with a light laugh, “When Bishop Pello’s assistant priest delivered this invitation, he told my steward that Tournans has already left the mountains of Naville and entered the Northern Wildlands to rendezvous with the Radiant Knights. He and Testier are preparing to launch a final offensive against the Blackhoof tribe before the rainy season arrives, joining forces to slay the Centaur Great Khan, Orogar.”

“What does that have to do with the invitation?” Victor asked, confused.

“The Church only has two people who can hold off the Centaur Great Khan head-on: Nachtigal and Tournans. Nachtigal is both the King of Eyer and the Pope’s chief guard; he cannot possibly leave the Royal Capital of Eyer. Tournans’s position differs from that of the Paladins, but Clement won’t just stand by and watch the Radiant Knights suffer heavy losses… Grand Commander Testier and Patriarch Frieders coordinating with Tournans, plus the four Paladins assisting from the side—such a lineup is more than enough to kill the Centaur Great Khan.”

“Killing Orogar doesn’t mean the war is over… There are still seven other Centaur tribes eyeing the human armies covetously. All together, they have three hundred thousand Centaur warriors and nearly a million vassal races. These Centaurs are very interested in the territory of the Blackhoof tribe… The Sasan Empire is preparing to push its border eastward and build a defensive line further ahead. The imperial army won’t engage in large-scale battles with these Centaurs, but they will encounter raids and plunder from elite Centaur units. Grand Commander Testier and Patriarch Frieders will surely do everything in their power to keep Tournans there. Only he can elude the danger Perception of the ferocious beastmen and deal heavy blows to the powerful warriors among the Centaur tribes.”

Sylvia’s long, slender finger drew a circle on the invitation. She raised her eyes and continued, “For the Kingdom of Naville, this is a terrible signal. Because Windfang still hasn’t been caught. With Tournans remaining in the Northern Wildlands to help the Sassans deal with Centaur raiders, the lords of Naville will begin to suspect if the Pontiff’s stance has changed.”

She picked up her purple-gold cup, took a sip of the hot, fragrant coffee, and then asked, “My dear, do you remember how you designed the water project for the Centaur Hills?”

Without waiting for Victor’s reply, Sylvia continued on her own, “You traveled all over the Centaur Hills and determined the locations for five hundred stream reservoirs. Our lords didn’t have to wait for the canals to be completed; they built the stream reservoirs based on the locations you marked, opening up many new farmlands and pastures ahead of schedule.”

“Uncle Edwen and Naville’s great scholars don’t have that kind of ability.” Sylvia tilted her head, a playful smile on her face, and continued, “They also surveyed several hundred stream reservoirs in the south-central region of Naville, but they’re worried the locations weren’t measured accurately. So, they chose the safest method: clear a path through the Kachenathen Grand Canyon, divert water from the Twilight Forest, build artificial reservoirs and aqueducts, fill a few reservoir nodes first, and then extend outward, building the other stream reservoir nodes in stages.”

“Now, with Windfang roaming the wilderness, tens of thousands of able-bodied refugee workers are in a state of widespread panic, unwilling to work on large-scale construction in the open. The project in the Kachenathen Grand Canyon has already ground to a halt. The regional lords of the Kingdom of Naville have paid their money but see no progress on the water project… one can only imagine the pressure the Naville royal court is under.”

In truth, a single Gold-rank Gnoll could only do limited damage to the workforce, but panic spread like a plague. When a hundred thousand refugee workers and their families all voiced their fears at once, it was enough to make the priests side with their flock. Thus, the Fathers pressured the lords to organize the able-bodied workers to retreat to towns for safety.

While Windfang and Naville’s Sword Mantis Knights played hide-and-seek in the wilderness, hundreds of thousands of refugees were holed up in towns, eating and drinking for free. Neither the lords of Naville nor the Church could bear it. The best solution, then, was to disperse the hundreds of thousands of refugees so they no longer had the collective power to sway the will of the priests, and then arrange for the workers to head to various parts of the kingdom to build stream reservoirs.

The Gnoll was a minor problem. Every time it attacked humans, it would reveal its location; it was only a matter of time before the Sword Mantis Knights killed it. A few thousand workers could build a single stream reservoir. Even if they were attacked by Windfang, they could simply retreat to a town, while construction on other reservoirs continued. As long as the water project resumed, the Rex royal family could placate the regional lords of Naville.

However, this required precise surveying of the reservoir node locations.

The Kingdom of Naville was mountainous and densely forested with complex terrain, making precise surveying extremely difficult. But the terrain of the Centaur Hills wasn’t much better, and since Viscount Randell was able to survey the stream reservoirs there, he could presumably help Naville solve this problem as well.

Sylvia sat down on Victor’s lap, her arms wrapping around his neck, and giggled. “The Rex family is very anxious. They’ve authorized Aerie Fortress, via a Church messenger raven, to write this invitation on their behalf.”

Victor nodded and asked, “When do you want me to leave?”

“The sooner, the better. Once the refugee workers start building the stream reservoirs, Clement’s priests will have a valid reason to remain in Naville. Otherwise, if the Radiant Knights transfer some priests away from Naville, don’t expect them to be returned to Clement obediently. In the end, it is our divine arts’ power that will be weakened.”

Sylvia gazed into Victor’s eyes and said softly, “My dear, I’ve chosen three Rose Knights and forty Mystic Warriors to serve as your guards… Katerina, Ulena, and Audel, all three are Great Knights. Choose one to be your companion.”

“What is this for?” Victor was taken aback and quickly said, “I’m going to Naville to survey terrain and design stream reservoirs. I won’t have time for dalliances with a female knight.”

Sylvia smiled. “You are the master of the house of Rose Manor. Of course they must lead the Rose Knights to protect you personally.”

When she said “personally protect,” she stressed the words with an ambiguous tone.

Victor was planning to sneak out alone at night to explore the Alchemy Tower ruins in the Kachenathen Grand Canyon. How could he accept the “personal protection” of a high-ranking female knight?

“I don’t need protection… I’ll be safer alone,” Victor said, shaking his head in refusal.

“Alright,” Sylvia nodded. She stood up from his lap, took two steps forward, then turned back and said lightly, “Then Catherine will have to go with you.”

Victor stared at Sylvia and asked, “What do you mean?”

“My dear, what do you think we are protecting?” Sylvia raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on her lips as she looked at Victor.

“Protecting your safety? No! We are protecting our partner.”

She placed a hand on her hip, lifting her sharp, captivating chin, her beautiful face filled with soaring fighting spirit. “We must let the other high-ranking female knights know that Viscount Randell is not for them to covet! This is a matter more important than supporting Clement, and it is the Kingdom of Gambia’s bottom line. If you do not agree to have the Queen Mother accompany you, Aerie Fortress will not let you leave!”

“Katerina, Ulena, Audel, and Catherine. You choose one.”

Victor was dumbfounded, utterly speechless. On the surface, Sylvia was letting him choose from four high-ranking female knights, but in reality, he only had one option. The high-ranking female knights of the York family, given the chance to travel with him, would absolutely make the situation irreversible. Catherine, though she might think about it, wouldn’t do so—not unless Victor’s Moon Elf bloodline reached the Gold rank.

By the same token, the high-ranking female knights of Naville would not let a prize like Viscount Randell, delivered right to their doorstep, slip away. With Catherine by his side, Victor could indeed save himself a lot of trouble. Most importantly, Catherine would not be living with him, so he would still have the opportunity to slip out and explore the Alchemy Tower.

Victor weighed his options for a moment, then looked up and met Sylvia’s bright, azure eyes. In an instant, he understood. She already knew about the Auguste family’s plan to use Wizards to cultivate the Moon Elf bloodline and had reached a tacit understanding with Aerie Fortress.

Perhaps I should use this opportunity to make contact with the Aerie Fortress Wizards… Victor wasn’t worried that the wizards could harm him or reverse his Moon Elf bloodline. Although this body was an experimental subject secretly cultivated by Aerie Fortress, Victor’s creation of the Mind Bloodline secret art had already freed him from the Wizards’ control. Moreover, the purple-gold coin amulet from Miller could defend against Wizardry.

Having made up his mind, Victor said with sincerity, “Actually, I don’t want to choose any of them.” He then brought a fist to his lips and added dryly, “Catherine is, after all, the Queen Mother of Gambis… isn’t that a bit inappropriate?”

Sylvia rolled her eyes at him and sighed. “Do you know why I didn’t let Trisley or Gillian go with you to Naville? They can’t handle this kind of situation. Catherine has a noble status and is adept at scheming with other nobles. She’s also not a core member of the Auguste family, and she’s single now. In another two years, Catherine will move out of the royal palace and be granted the title of Duchess. She will have the right to choose her own partner.”

Sylvia paused, then pouted. “When Catherine visits Naville, she will certainly be escorted by Knights of the Household Department. Given the Queen Mother of Gambis’s esteemed status, she can only stay in the Royal Capital of Naville; she won’t be able to accompany you trekking through the wilderness. To protect her beloved, our Queen Mother will probably have to send Knights of the Household Department to follow you.”

“Since when did my man need the Auguste family’s protection?” Sylvia gave a cold smile, then turned to Victor. “So, master of Rose Manor, do you want the Knights of the Household Department following you, or do you want the Rose Knights as your escort?”

“The Rose Knights, of course.”

Sylvia leaned into Victor’s embrace, planted a light kiss on his lips, and said softly, “My dear, Trisley and I will see you part of the way. Let’s set off now.”

Three days later, Sylvia and Trisley stood at a crossroads in Redleaf Town, watching Victor’s convoy drive off into the distance.

Only when the convoy had disappeared among the rolling hills did Sylvia pull Trisley onto the carriage to return to Goldwater City.

On the way back, Trisley was silent, her delicate little face as cold as ice. Sylvia rested her cheek on her hand, casually gazing at the scenery outside the window, and said in a lazy tone, “We kissed him goodbye in public and everything, what more do you want?”

Trisley was silent for a few seconds, her voice remaining flat, though her lips were pouting. “If you had let me go, Victor definitely wouldn’t have chosen Catherine to accompany him.”

“Whether Victor chose her or not, Catherine was going to accompany her lover on his visit.”

Sylvia glanced at Trisley and smiled. “What good would you be? Can you outmaneuver the high-ranking female knights of Naville? Naville is a traditional ally of our York family. The mothers of Enbise and Fredrick were female knights from Naville. I can’t very well fall out with them over Victor’s romantic affairs with Naville’s noblewomen, can I? Catherine doesn’t have to do anything; her status alone represents the stance of the Kingdom of Gambia.”

Trisley retorted defiantly, “I can protect Victor. Can Catherine camp with him in the wilderness?”

“A Victor who needs protecting is not the man I want!”

Sylvia’s eyes turned cold, and Trisley immediately lowered her head. Sylvia softened her tone, her eyes turning misty as she said, “I have a feeling Victor is more than just a Wind Whisper Moon Elf. He can go much further.”

Trisley looked up, a complex mixture of surprise, joy, and disappointment on her face. She stammered, “Are you saying Victor… he… he can get you pregnant?”

Only a Sun Elf could impregnate a female Spirit Knight, and only a Gold Knight could birth a Sun Elf bloodline. Trisley recalled the conversation she’d had with Victor about an heir, and couldn’t help but feel dejected.

“Aerie Fortress doesn’t do things for no reason.”

Sylvia shook her head gently, her gaze shifting to the window. She smiled faintly. “I just want to see if Catherine can bear Victor’s child. If she can get pregnant, you’ll be next.”

Trisley bit her glossy pink lip, her slender hand quietly resting on her flat, supple abdomen. Her bright, light blue eyes held a mixture of shy joy and vexation.

Chapter 498: Closely United

Dark clouds obscured the sun, and the air was damp and bone-chillingly cold, heralding the coming of freezing rain.

The magnificent and towering Aerie Fortress stood like a great giant, unmoving in the bitterly howling cold wind.

The Aerie Fortress was a vast and winding complex. No one could say for certain just how many rooms it contained, nor how many secret passages and chambers were hidden within.

For nearly eighty years, The Faceless, an organization secretly cultivated by the Auguste family, had controlled the main system of secret chambers in Aerie Fortress. The largest of these chambers was not only the secret residence of the Chief of The Faceless but also the Auguste family’s most important potion laboratory.

It was not built in some gloomy, damp cellar, but was located in the upper levels of the castle, a full fifty-six meters above the ground, and even had a small window and a row of ventilation holes. People looking up from below would only assume it was an ordinary attic. But without a member of The Faceless to lead the way, anyone could only enter an ordinary little attic, not the hidden secret chamber.

Inside the secret chamber, four lizard-oil candles, each as thick as a man’s wrist, were placed in the four corners of the room, their bright light illuminating the entire space as if it were day.

“Sylvia has seen through it… If she didn’t figure it out herself, then someone must have leaked it!”

Williams slammed one hand on the walnut table, his eyes filled with rage and worry. Across from him, Marquess Golan sat with a calm expression. He nodded and said, “Whether Sylvia figured it out herself or not, The Faceless should conduct a strict internal investigation. Any factor that could possibly endanger the Master’s life must be eliminated!”

Tofwen put down the letter from Rose Manor, raised his cloudy old eyes to look at the Guardian and the Regent of the Auguste family, then lowered his drooping eyelids again. “Every path walked leaves a trail,” he said in a weary voice. “I’ve lived long enough and left far too many trails. It’s not surprising to be seen through, and to be seen through by a Spirit Knight, well, that is my honor.”

“Master…”

Tofwen waved his hand, cutting Williams off. He said slowly, “The Faceless was founded by me and your father… I still remember how excited he looked when he proposed its creation. I was infected by his enthusiasm at the time.” At this, the old Wizard gave a wry smile and sighed, shaking his head. “That fellow was only busy with it for four months before he lost interest in The Faceless and threw it all to me… Right up until the eve of his attempt to breach the Elemental Sea, when he privately gave me his last instructions, he never mentioned The Faceless. It wasn’t that he forgot; he just treated it like an outdated game… What a memorable bastard he was.”

Golan Auguste showed a rare, nostalgic smile. “Bonelatte never mentioned The Faceless to me, either.”

Tofwen clasped his hands over his abdomen and leaned back in his rocking chair, his voice relaxed. “The truth is, you both know very well that it’s impossible for The Faceless to have a leak. The person most likely to have leaked it is Roland… but I watched her grow up. I know Ryan’s daughter would never betray me, no matter how much she dislikes me.”

“You only did what had to be done,” Golan said with a nod.

“The late Queen Eline never regretted her choice, not even in death. And I have never regretted making her choose. We simply did what an Auguste had to do.”

Tofwen sat up straight and stared at Williams. “You want me to hand over The Faceless?”

Meeting the old Wizard’s soul-piercing gaze, Williams let his smile fall away and said frankly, “Yes.”

“I am old, and my days are numbered… It is time to hand over The Faceless.”

The old Wizard leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes as if he had fallen asleep. Williams and Marquess Golan waited patiently. After a long while, they heard Tofwen speak:

“The Faceless has two Great Knights, seven Knights, twenty-four apprentice knights, two Wizards, four wise gnomes, one hundred and twenty-seven master craftsmen, thirty-seven impersonators, forty-two berserk guards, one hundred and seventy-three trackers, and four hundred and sixty-six armed warriors.”

Williams couldn’t help but draw a sharp breath. Besides the Knights and Wizards, all the others were secret art death commandos meticulously trained by Tofwen. They each had their own specialties. Williams only knew that the armed warriors among The Faceless were skilled with all sorts of weapons, and even the weakest among them had the combat power of an initial-rank apprentice knight. Since Tofwen ranked the armed warriors at the very bottom, the other types of Mystic Warriors must have extraordinary abilities of their own.

The Faceless was a staggering force!

Tofwen gave the Regent a faint glance and said, “I do not plan to give The Faceless to you. I want to give The Faceless to Roland Auguste.”

“What?! Why?” Williams could hardly believe his ears, blurting out the question in a loud voice.

Tofwen said dismissively, “The final decision lies with Golan.” He turned his head to face the Guardian and asked, “You decide. Who should command The Faceless?”

Marquess Golan’s lips were pressed into a tight line, his expression stern. After a moment of thought, he said in a deep voice, “Roland intends to follow the example of her Auguste ancestors and break through to the legendary realm. She is preparing to leave Aerie Fortress. You want to give The Faceless to her? I need a reason.”

The old Wizard said listlessly, “In my eyes, there is no Williams, no Roland, no Edward—only Auguste. With Roland’s charisma and ability, whether she steps into the legendary realm or not, a group of followers will gather around her. But how can I allow outsiders to whisk away the princess of the Auguste family? If The Faceless follows Roland, whether she forges a new path or returns to Gambis, she is still a princess of the House of Auguste.”

Marquess Golan nodded, then shook his head with a wry smile. “My only fear is that Roland won’t accept.”

“Doing it subtly is still better than doing nothing at all.”

Golan looked at Williams and said tactfully, “Your Highness, the iris finch doesn’t always lay its eggs in the same nest. What do you think?”

“I have no objections,” the Regent said with a wry smile. He then turned to the old Wizard. “Uncle Tofwen, for my grandfather’s and my father’s sake, you have to leave something for Aerie Fortress, don’t you?”

Tofwen pointed at Williams and chided with a laugh, “You rascal, I’m not dead yet.”

“The Master’s most precious asset is not The Faceless, nor is it the Auguste high-ranking knights who owe their existence to him… or Victor. It is his great achievements in the field of Potion-making.” Marquess Golan said to Williams, “Your Highness, Master Tofwen’s most valuable treasure has been left to Aerie Fortress.”

Williams spread his hands, complaining with an innocent expression, “…I was just joking. Can’t you people have a sense of humor?”

“Augustes… heh.” Tofwen shook his head helplessly, picked up the letter again, and asked, “Why do you think Sylvia has seen through Victor?”

Williams nodded and said, “Twenty-three days ago, Duke York sent the first letter to Aerie Fortress, proposing that Catherine and Victor visit Naville together. I suspected then that Sylvia had seen something, but the request was a good thing for us. So, we followed the protocol for royal visits, listing Viscount Randell as an attendant to the Queen Mother, and began preparations for the visit.”

“Who would have thought that Sylvia would personally write to Aerie Fortress in her capacity as Protector of the Kingdom, demanding that Viscount Randell be the chief envoy for the visit to the Kingdom of Naville, and that Catherine was merely accompanying her lover on a private trip to Naville.” Williams frowned and continued, “This is against protocol! It could even damage the reputation of the Gambis Royal Family… My scholar-advisor believes that Sylvia’s move is intended to publicly announce Victor and Catherine’s relationship as lovers, and also to show us that the York family is willing to promote a political structure of a royal family and a queen’s family. But I know Catherine’s special nature. For Sylvia to specifically name Catherine to accompany Victor to Naville is very likely a suggestive probe. This indicates she must have sensed something.”

Tofwen pondered for a moment, then closed his eyes and sighed. “The wisdom of an extraordinary being is beyond the imagination of ordinary people.”

Williams nodded in deep agreement. “Sylvia is a Spirit Knight, after all. She deduced a scheme Aerie Fortress has been laying for over a decade from just a few minor details and accurately identified the key person, Catherine.”

“I was talking about Victor,” Tofwen said, shaking his head to correct him.

Marquess Golan’s expression shifted slightly. He cut in before Williams could speak, “Master, you also believe that Victor has already reached the Gold rank?”

“Gold rank? Didn’t you say Victor needed over forty years to advance to the Sun Elf bloodline? Logically, he shouldn’t have touched the Gold rank so quickly… It hasn’t even been a year!” Williams asked in surprise.

Tofwen rolled his cloudy eyes. “I did say Victor needed forty-four years to advance to a Sun Elf. Over a decade ago, I also said Victor had no hope of awakening, and I was wrong… Who knows what has happened to Victor now? Perhaps within a few years, his Moon Elf bloodline will begin to mutate towards a Sun Elf.”

“Damn it, in such a short time, I can’t come up with a new scheme for Victor!” Williams slapped his forehead, his face full of vexation.

“Scheme? Who gave you the gall to scheme against a Highness?” Tofwen’s tone was grim as he admonished him. “We spent resources worth hundreds of thousands of Gold Sols to create Victor, but now that he has reached the level of a Gold rank powerhouse or higher, you still want to control him? And on what grounds could the Auguste family control a Highness with a Gold Bloodline? Look at what Roland does, look at how Sylvia treats him, and look at what Pope Clement does!”

Williams was taken aback. He said with shame, “Roland treats Victor with sincerity and moves him with emotion, elevating him into the circle of the great nobles early on… In terms of vision and wisdom, I am no match for Roland.”

But the old wizard shook his head. “The gap between you and Roland isn’t in wisdom or vision, but in your mentality. After Ryan died, the burden of the kingdom fell on your and Golan’s shoulders. One Spirit Knight in Gambis was already more than enough to handle; you instinctively want to bring all variables under control and are unwilling to see another Highness rise outside of the Auguste family. Roland doesn’t have this burden. With Ryan’s death in battle, she only thought of increasing her own strength, so from the very beginning, she decided to win over Sylvia to prepare for her own departure. In her eyes, showing goodwill to her former playmate, who is now Sylvia’s lover, has no downsides, only benefits… So why not do it?”

Marquess Golan let out a long breath and said heavily, “The Master’s lesson is right. Sylvia’s two letters revealed many suspicious things, but I was so set on the hope of bringing Victor back under the iris finch banner that I ignored Sylvia’s warnings and the one fact that could explain everything.”

“From the York family’s perspective, they certainly don’t want Victor’s bloodline to flow elsewhere. When Victor visits Naville, Sylvia would surely arrange for a high-ranking female knight to accompany him. But the York family doesn’t want to incur too much resentment from Naville’s high-ranking female knights, so they use the Queen Mother of Gambis as a shield. The problem is, Victor didn’t agree to be accompanied by a high-ranking female knight from the York family. That is why Sylvia had to write the second letter, making Catherine accompany him to Naville in the capacity of Viscount Randell’s lover.”

A complex smile appeared on Marquess Golan’s face, a hint of schadenfreude mixed with the frustration of a setback.

Realization dawned on Williams. He nodded and said, “Through his love letters to Catherine, Victor revealed to Patriarch Tamor that Clement had designed the mutual aid system. He was scheming against the Pope! His astounding wisdom, skill, and courage are enough to prove he is now a true Highness. Therefore, Sylvia must respect Victor’s wishes. Although Clement was schemed against by Victor, he values his potential and status. The Pope decided to go with the flow, asking Victor to help Naville through its difficulties, then commending his merits and personally holding a Holy Light prayer for him, indirectly forming a formal alliance with the Spirit Knight. But the Pope’s main goal was to get closer to Victor!”

Marquess Golan said with a blank expression, “At the Saint investiture ceremony presided over by the Pope himself, the presence of a high-ranking female knight from the York family by Viscount Randell’s side would have been enough to prove the close, seamless relationship between this newly-promoted Highness and the York family. Since there is no high-ranking female knight from the York family by Victor’s side, Sylvia would absolutely not want Catherine to publicly attend Viscount Randell’s Saint investiture ceremony in her capacity as the Queen Mother of Gambis.”

Williams could no longer contain his anger. He slapped the table and stood up. “This is too much! Sylvia is deliberately reinforcing that Catherine is His Highness Randell’s lover, not His Highness Randell’s liege lord… Where does she place our Auguste Royal Family? No, I’ll write a letter to His Majesty Rex right now and tell him that it is Catherine Auguste, the Queen Mother, who is leading Viscount Randell on a visit to the Kingdom of Naville!”

Without a word, Tofwen took a blank sheet of parchment from a drawer and, along with a quill and ink, pushed it toward the Regent of Gambis.

“Go on, write.”

Williams picked up the quill and held it suspended in the air. He hesitated for a long time before finally putting it down. He said with a bitter smile, “If I wrote that, the political vision of an Auguste Royal Family and a York Queen’s family would be finished…”

“Better than your brother,” Tofwen glanced at Williams, leaned back in his chair again, and said slowly, “Sylvia was testing our sincerity to begin with… You’re unhappy, but the Spirit Knight is even more so. None of Victor’s lovers are bound by marriage, with Sylvia being the only exception. This shows how important Sylvia is to Victor. Can Catherine compete with Sylvia for Victor? With His Highness Randell by her side, why would the York family still be willing to be the Queen’s family of Gambis? Sylvia didn’t have Trisley accompany Victor. Isn’t that enough to show her sincerity towards us?”

“Sylvia longs for a true partner. She isn’t sure if Victor can reach a level to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with a Spirit Knight. Victor himself cannot be sure either, but the House of Randell also needs an heir.”

“Only Gold Knights and Spirit Knights can conceive Sun Elf descendants. The problem is, two Gold Knights can only have one child together, and there are far too few Gold female knights. Currently, in all the human kingdoms, there are only seven Gold female knights. Including Roland, only three Highnesses have not yet borne a child while at the Gold rank. Gold female knights are not like silver female knights; they are already at the pinnacle. Whether they have children or a partner is of little importance to them.”

Tofwen scoffed, “In the early days of the Iron Mountain Empire, the Ogre King Vol’gan squeezed the forces of the human kingdoms into a tight ball. That was how Sword Saint Draven ended up with six Gold rank lovers. Now, the political situations in the various kingdoms are stable. The Gold female knights each belong to their own factions. They might be willing to have a child with His Highness Randell, but would they give the child to the House of Randell?”

“Until his Moon Elf bloodline stabilizes, Victor cannot get a silver female knight pregnant. Sylvia just wants to see if I can enable Catherine to conceive His Highness Randell’s child… Fortunately, my Wizardry can satisfy the most pressing desires of both Her Highness Sylvia and His Highness Randell!”

Marquess Golan slowly rose to his feet, a vibrant, upward-surging aura emanating from him. He bowed solemnly to the old Wizard and said, “Because of Your Excellency, the four Highnesses of Gambis are closely linked together. And because of Your Excellency, the reins of Gambis’s carriage have always remained in the hands of Aerie Fortress. I, the Sworn Knight of the late King Bonelatte, Guardian of the Kingdom of Gambis and the Auguste family, Golan Auguste, pay my highest respects to Your Excellency!”

The old Wizard waved his hand and turned to the Regent. “Little William, do you know why the Spirit Knight submits to the status of Gambis’s Queen’s family? Because the resources and heritage of the Auguste family are something the York family cannot match. That is true now, and it will be true in the future.”

“The royal family must have the magnanimity of royalty. Ever since I realized Victor would become one of the exalted, I have had no thought of controlling him. We should regard this Highness as a Protector of the Kingdom, not a vassal lord of Aerie Fortress.”

Williams nodded and bowed. “William Auguste will take Uncle Tofwen’s teachings to heart.”

Tofwen closed his eyes. After a long pause, he suddenly asked, “Where is His Highness Randell’s carriage now?”

Marquess Golan thought for a moment and replied, “By now, he should have passed Longbridge Town. He’s still fifteen days away from Brinol.”

“I suggest having Her Majesty Catherine take the initiative to rendezvous with His Highness Randell, then head north directly to the Kingdom of Naville without detouring to the Royal Capital… As soon as His Highness Randell leaves Gambis, we move immediately. Force that Viscount’s wife in Wildwillow City to leave the Briatte family, and then send her to Silver Moon Manor.”

Williams considered this for a moment and nodded. “That is indeed what we should do. We can’t wait any longer.”

Tofwen tapped the table, took out a small calfskin scroll from a drawer, and handed it to Marquess Golan. “Although His Highness Randell has voluntarily given up his intention to control Wildwillow City, we must still make a gesture. The Blue Taro potion I developed can reverse the state of brain elementalization in Gold Knights. It is very suitable for Sylvia… Let’s give this formula to His Highness Randell as a gift.”

Chapter 499: The Battle of Barreto (Part 1)

In the Northern Wildlands, at Barreto Valley.

The last rays of the setting sun pierced through the gaps in the leaden clouds, like immense swords of light slanting down between the rolling hills. The eastern side of the valley was bathed in patches of gold by these blades of light, while the western side lay in deep, gloomy shadow.

A fierce north wind funneled into the valley as the sky grew ever darker. The shadows of the western forests spread eastward like a tide, threatening to drown the mottled light.

Countless human warriors and half-man, half-horse monsters battled fiercely, weaving between light and shadow.

The centaurs were tall and brawny. Their lower bodies resembled large draft horses, but their forehooves had four toes suited for gripping and climbing. Their tails were thick and long, like powerful, flexible snakes. Their upper bodies were akin to powerfully built humans with bulging muscles, but their features were flat and ugly, and their ears were downward-spiraling horns, as if they were devils straight from Hell.

They formed charging phalanxes, sweeping back and forth across the valley, trampling any opponent—or even their own kind—who dared to stand in their way into a bloody pulp. Against enemies who pursued them, the centaurs would respond with swift arrows and wild laughter, leaving them far behind. Then they would sling their greatbows, draw their heavy javelins, and charge back, hurling their projectiles at the panicked enemy and pinning them to the ground.

The thunder of hooves shook the heavens, and a rain of arrows and javelins fell. The charging centaur clusters were unstoppable!

If they couldn’t be stopped, they weren’t stopped. If they couldn’t be caught, they weren’t chased!

The human warriors wore light, flexible suits of thick leather armor and carried hardwood shields plated with steel and sharp, refined iron scimitars. A blood-red light of fury shone in their eyes. They formed tight tortoise shell formations, their shields interlocked to withstand the overwhelming volleys of arrows and javelins. Whenever the centaurs had launched two javelins, the warriors would quickly scatter to the flanks, signaling the aberrant war beasts roaming the perimeter to close in. The heavily-armored knights remained in place, picking up the crude, heavy obsidian javelins and hurling them at the centaur clusters. As the centaurs came thundering in, the knights drew their Adamantine beheading greatswords and gathered behind the High-ranked Knights. The centaur tide crashed against them as if against an unbreakable reef, their formation splitting in two, leaving behind a trail of blood and the dying wails of their comrades. The human soldiers on the flanks seized the opportunity to use their scimitars to slice horrific wounds into the centaurs’ sides. Immensely strong and ferocious Griffins, Horned Wolves, and Moon Bears joined the heavy knights in pursuing the rear of the centaur clusters, tearing them to pieces until their masters’ whistles called them off.

One particularly massive Moon Bear, unable to suppress its bloodthirsty killing instinct, reared up on its hind legs. Its body, over four meters long, towered over the battlefield. With a mighty swipe of its giant paws, it snapped a centaur into two twisted halves. Ignoring the prey’s agonized shrieks, it pounced, tearing hungrily at its flesh. A long arrow shot out, piercing the Moon Bear’s iron shoulder plate and sinking deep into its flesh. Enraged, the Moon Bear abandoned its prey and charged toward the centaur that had wounded it.

The centaur broke into a run, periodically twisting its upper body to fire its greatbow, luring the exceptionally powerful war beast up a slope. The Moon Bear’s running speed was astonishing. Just as it was about to be overtaken, the centaur displayed incredible agility. Its left foreclaw gripped a rock tightly and, using its momentum, its nearly twelve-hundred-pound body pivoted on its left foreleg, turning in mid-air to cleverly evade the war beast’s swipe. Immediately after, it stomped its powerful hind hooves, rearing up in an instant. Its four-toed forepaws pressed down on the Moon Bear’s head, forcing the berserk behemoth to the ground, while the metal javelin in its hand plunged downwards, right through the bear’s eye and into its brain.

The Moon Bear war beast died instantly without a sound. The savage centaur warrior stood atop the small mountain of a bear’s corpse and let out a string of cackles, proclaiming its victory. It leaped nimbly on the slope, using its greatbow to pick off human warriors in the valley below.

These were the centaur sharpshooters, the elite warriors of the Blackhoof tribe. They did not charge into the fray with the main force but maneuvered freely hundreds of meters away, sniping their enemies with precision.

This centaur sharpshooter used a greatbow to fire heavy arrows a full 1.3 meters long. Their power was comparable to a heavy crossbow, easily piercing armor and shields. Nearly every shot felled a human warrior. Soon, a dozen men lay dead by its bow, its strange cackles never ceasing. Suddenly, a sense of alarm rose in its heart. It decisively dropped its greatbow, snatched two crude but heavy spiked clubs from its waist, and, without a second thought, swung them horizontally into the shadows to its left.

“Die, you ugly monster!”

A figure flashed through the gap between the spiked clubs. A brilliant red flower bloomed on the savage centaur’s torso. Before it could even scream, a refined iron flail, shimmering with platinum light, swung high like a living serpent and shattered its skull.

As gore and bone fragments rained down, a man whirled and darted away, quickly disappearing into the dense woods. His Sacred Warrior leather armor was spattered with crimson blood, and five silver stripes were faintly visible on his shoulder. The flail in his hand vibrated slightly, and after the platinum sheen faded, it was utterly unstained.

The Church’s Adjudicators and Paladins were using the cover of the trees and shrubs to specifically hunt the Blackhoof tribe’s centaur sharpshooters.

This Adjudicator had been too active. After killing six centaur sharpshooters in a row, he had finally attracted the attention of a powerful centaur.

He had just emerged from a thicket when a javelin tore through the air. A white vapor trail streamed from its tail, yet it was completely silent—it was faster than sound!

A Silver-rank Blackhoof Centaur Commander!

The Adjudicator’s pupils instantly shrank to pinpricks. Platinum holy light surged from his body, forming a set of platinum runes on the surface of his leather armor, making the ordinary armor glow with a divine, dazzling light. He tried desperately to swerve left. The metal javelin thrown by the Centaur Commander pierced his armor, empowered by the Art of the Sacred Armor, and exited through his back, leaving a bowl-sized hole in his right chest, but it had missed his heart.

Using the Art of Sacred Indwelling and the Art of the Sacred Armor, the Adjudicator had avoided a fatal blow and wasn’t even knocked to the ground by the javelin’s terrifying kinetic energy. But the intense heat from the javelin’s friction with the air had nearly scorched half of his right lung. A wound this severe would have incapacitated a Bronze-rank Knight, yet he bolted for the forest as if nothing had happened. Through the hole in his chest, a platinum radiance could be seen, staunching the flow of blood and constantly repairing the wound.

This was the Art of Sacred Healing, capable of temporarily suppressing injuries and pain. As long as the Adjudicator could reach the forest, he could find a High-ranked Priest to treat his wound. Unfortunately, the Blackhoof Commander gave him no chance to escape.

Another terrifying javelin flew from hundreds of meters away, reaching the Adjudicator’s back in the blink of an eye. Just as he fell into despair, an Adamantine shield glowing with holy light appeared between him and the projectile. The powerful centaur javelin struck the angled shield and ricocheted into the air, leaving only a drawn-out shriek as it tore through the air.

A Paladin clad in Mithril armor supported the Adjudicator with one hand and unleashed a wave of platinum holy light that enveloped his body. Fresh blood began to seep from the charred wound, which then healed at a visible rate.

Seeing this, the brown-furred Centaur Commander turned and fled down the slope. A stream of azure light shot out from the thicket like blue lightning, piercing the commander through the back. The impossibly sharp torrent of the void wind element raged within its body, dicing its organs to shreds. The Silver-rank Centaur Commander coughed up blood mixed with pieces of its organs from its mouth and nose. It staggered forward for another two hundred meters before finally collapsing, twitching powerlessly.

The shield-bearing Paladin helped the Adjudicator, who was now bleeding from the corner of his mouth, into the woods. He first nodded to the Paladin holding the Mithril warbow, then smiled at the Adjudicator. “Wegler, you need to be more careful. Patriarch Frieders only has one son left.”

“All glory to the Lord… I will have revenge for my brothers and sisters… I will kill all those beasts!”

“Alright, alright, stop talking. The High-ranked Priest will heal you.”

The Paladin half-carried the Adjudicator to a man-made clearing. A High-ranked Priest wearing Dragon-Lizard leather armor with a mace at his waist took the gravely wounded Wegler. However, instead of using divine arts to heal him, he took out a Regeneration Potion and poured it over the wound.

This way, Lord Frieders’ only son would have to lie down quietly and miss the rest of the battle.

A middle-aged knight shifted his gaze from Wegler to a handsome knight with rare blue hair. “Frederick, the effects of the Bloodboil Potion are about to end… It’s time for us to take the stage.”

This middle-aged knight had black hair and amber eyes. The crest of a griffin—the head of an eagle, the body of a lion—adorned his Mithril armor. He was none other than the heir to the Ironmount royal family, the Gold Knight most likely to step into the legendary realm today—Uthain Baselius.

Astov, the Duke of Moon Bear from the Teutonic Duchy, chimed in, “Your Majesty, our warriors are about to break… I request permission to lead the charge!”

Although the human warriors were the cream of the Sasan Empire’s crop, many of them apprentice knights and Sacred Warriors, they were still outmatched by the tall, powerful, and swift Blackhoof centaurs. Once the effects of the Bloodboil Potion wore off, the elite soldiers of the Sasan Empire would be overcome with fatigue. Without the cover of the infantry, the casualties among the apprentice knights and Sacred Warriors would skyrocket.

Neither the Sasan Empire nor the Temple Army could afford such losses!

Faced with such a grim situation, the Sasan Emperor’s expression was grave. He forced out a single sentence from between his gritted teeth:

“Wait for Grand Commander Testier to fire the first arrow!”

Testier was also waiting, his Mithril warbow drawn into a full moon. The purple, shimmering arrowhead was aimed at the Centaur Great Khan three hundred meters away. Beside him was another Gold Paladin, his bow also drawn. The two highnesses of House Testier had their target locked, yet they held their fire.

They were waiting for the Church’s First Sacred Warrior to use Smite Evil and shatter the Armor of the Earth on the Centaur Great Khan.

Orogar couldn’t care less about the two little bugs. Although their arrows were incredibly sharp, he could dodge them with a mere flick of his neck. A hit to the body was inconsequential. Mother Earth had granted him a resilient body; as long as his four hooves touched the ground, he could draw an endless stream of power.

The most annoying thing was this little bug right in front of him… or maybe it was an Ogre lord disguised as a little bug?

Orogar couldn’t understand how this bald human could suddenly become as tall and burly as an Ogre lord, his fists striking Orogar’s indestructible body with enough force to make his bones go soft, and then just as suddenly shrink to the size of a Goblin, easily dodging his all-destroying spiked clubs.

A metal-clad fist filled Orogar’s vision and slammed heavily into his chest, making his knees buckle. He nearly fell, but in the next second, the power of the earth surged into his body, and he stood firm again.

He’s big again, again, again, almost taller than me… have the children gotten far enough away? I’ll hold on a little longer, then lead my warriors in a breakout, before this monster gets even bigger and stronger, strong enough to knock me into the air… The entirely orange-yellow Centaur Great Khan swung his two spiked clubs in a seamless blur, churning the air into a thick paste that let out a sorrowful whine. However, Orogar had already given up on chasing the bald monster; he was purely on the defensive.

Chasing it was useless. He couldn’t hit the bald monster, and it would only make him seem smaller, allowing him to break through the clubs and land an even heavier blow.

These were all illusions!

Complex, sacred platinum runes covered Tournans’ forehead, face, armor, gauntlets, and boots. From five hundred meters away, Patriarch Frieders had cast Heroism Art, Sacred Aegis, Deflection, Rejuvenation, and the Power of Blessing upon him, allowing him to leap and move like a phantom, landing countless heavy blows on the Centaur Great Khan. Yet Tournans wasn’t using his full strength, nor had he inflicted any effective damage on Orogar’s body.

In truth, if Tournans were to use the Sacred Warrior’s sixth-level divine art, Smite Evil, he could kill Orogar in two punches… or be killed by him.

A deeply savaged centaur like Orogar, who had awakened a top-tier Bloodline talent, could unleash power beyond its limits in the face of death. Even Tournans at full strength would find it difficult to survive its counterattack.

And he wasn’t here to die with Orogar.

The clash between Tournans and Orogar involved both body and mind. Every blow Tournans landed on Orogar chipped away at its will to fight, distorted its senses and intuition, and planted the idea that Tournans was an unstoppable force, making it lose faith in its own Bloodline talent.

The moment the legendary centaur turned to flee would be the moment of its death!

To create these conditions, the combined elite forces of the Radiant Knights and the Sasan Empire had let the main force of the Blackhoof tribe escape, forcing Orogar to lead his personal centaur guard as the rearguard. The High-ranked Paladins and battle priests of the Radiant Knights had cordoned off an area on the blood-soaked battlefield for Tournans and Orogar to duel.

To take down Orogar, the Gold Knights of the Sasan Empire hid in the woods, the Radiant Knights’ top combatants were tied down, and the Imperial Knights and Temple Army held back the frenzied assault of the Blackhoof centaur guards. If Tournans were hit even once by Orogar, his chances of survival would be slim to none.

If Tournans fell, if the human army collapsed, the Radiant Knights and the Sasan Empire would have to sacrifice their own to break the legendary centaur’s Armor of the Earth and kill Orogar by force. There was no telling how many High-ranked Knights and high-ranking clergy would die under the legendary centaur’s counterattack.

Even victory would be a pyrrhic one… Both sides were dancing on a knife’s edge. Fortunately, Tournans was in control of the battle’s rhythm.

Through the Touch of the Mind, the Legendary Sacred Warrior accurately grasped the Great Khan’s physical and mental state. Its combat intuition was weakened, its Perception distorted. Its seemingly peerless, mighty swings were full of openings!

Orogar took another heavy blow to the stomach. He felt no anger, only panic. The bald monster is in front of me, how did he hit my stomach? Who is hitting me?

Orogar swept his spiked club backhandedly. The air tore, creating a series of vortexes, but it hit nothing. When he looked again, the bald monster was gone!

His steady breathing finally became labored, like a dozen blacksmiths pumping a bellows. A huge crack appeared in Orogar’s mind, immediately filled with the thought of escape. Suddenly, he saw the vanished bald monster appear beside him, like a titan that touched the heavens, looking down on his tiny self. Then, it raised a fist larger than a tent and brought it crashing down!

A ring of platinum runes appeared on Tournans’ Adamantine Gauntlets, rapidly coating them in a sacred platinum-gold—Smite Evil! A sixth-level divine art specialized in severing elemental connections, with the armor-shattering concussive effect of the Sacred Sword Art!

The entirely orange-yellow Centaur Great Khan was struck by Smite Evil and reverted to his original form, his body once again made of flesh and blood… Now!

Frieders pointed the blood-red Holy Crystal in his left hand at Orogar. Red runes appeared, and a psychic wave pierced the Great Khan’s mind. With his right hand, he flicked his fingers twice, and platinum flames ignited on the arrowheads of the two Stormwind Paladins.

Chaos spell! Sacred Flame Art!

Two deep blue arrows shot forth, aimed straight for the legendary centaur’s head and heart.

At the brink of death, Orogar broke free from Tournans’ mental influence, but Frieders’ Chaos spell made him inevitably hesitate for a split second. With a turn of his neck, he dodged the arrow aimed at his head as if he had foreseen it, but his chest was pierced by Grand Commander Testier’s arrow.

The wind element from the Elemental Sea, now almost tangible, ravaged Orogar’s body with sharp, ruthless force, shredding all the organs in his upper body. The platinum holy fire burned his flesh, preventing his upper body from drawing strength from the earth to expel the void wind element. From the forest, the Gold Knights of the Sasan Empire, led by their commander, charged onto the battlefield, their longswords reaping the lives of the Blackhoof centaurs with impunity. High-ranked battle priests unfurled Divine Canopies, the power of their divine arts helping the human soldiers recover their stamina and heal their wounds.

Orogar turned his head, his crimson eyes fixed on the rapidly retreating yet continuously growing bald monster.

So, he never shrank, and he never grew… that hateful bald freak, die!

The earth cracked beneath the legendary centaur’s hooves as a yellow-brown shockwave shot after Tournans. The Sacred Warrior, having anticipated this, tapped his toes on the ground and dodged the centaur’s dying counterattack. The shockwave quickly dissipated, leaving a straight furrow in the ground.

Orogar could no longer maintain the Armor of the Earth on his horse body. The wind element burst out, tearing open countless wounds. Blood gushed out, dyeing his body red.

“May your flesh and blood also be devoured by Mother Earth!”

Orogar lay in a pool of blood, uttering a curse in the centaur tongue.

Grand Commander Testier flew over. With a few flashes of his longsword, he severed the Blackhoof Great Khan’s human torso from its body and cut off its head. He held it up by its horns and said coolly:

“Your head and pelt are still useful. It would be a shame to let them be burned by the Holy Fire.”

Chapter 500: The Battle of Barreto (Part 2)

Howard Testier, Grand Commander of the Radiant Knights, held high the head of the legendary Centaur Great Khan. Patriarch Frieders, his heart surging with an uncontrollable tide of emotion, couldn’t stop the old tears from streaming down his face.

The appearance of Orogar had united the fractured centaur clans into nine great tribes. Each tribe had at least seven or eight Gold-rank Savage Centaur Chiliarchs. The most powerful of them, the Blackhoof tribe, even boasted a legendary Great Khan, thirteen Centaur Chiliarchs, more than eighty thousand male centaur warriors, and a total population of nearly four hundred thousand, not to mention the almost one million vassal races they had enslaved.

If Orogar had succeeded in unifying the centaur clans west of the wildlands, he could have commanded all the beastmen tribes of the Northern Wildlands, becoming one of the few Kings of Beastmen in history. And every King of Beastmen had turned the conflicts between different tribes towards humanity, bringing deep disaster upon the human kingdoms.

A large-scale beastman invasion often resulted in the collapse of human empires, the loss of territory, and the displacement of believers, leading to the decline of the Church’s power and triggering a series of chain reactions. The secular lords would see their power reshuffled, and it would take decades, even centuries, for the human kingdoms to regain their balance. Reclaiming the lost lands, however, was an almost impossible task.

The Sasan Empire was humanity’s last fertile land. The Radiant Knights had spent more than three hundred years integrating their forces, both internal and external, and accumulating strength, preparing to use the Sasan Empire as a base to launch a counterattack into the Northern Wildlands and retake their lost territories.

The rise of the Blackhoof centaurs not only threatened the security of the Sasan Empire but also became an obstacle to the revival strategy of the Radiant Knights and the Sasan lords.

Orogar had to die!

To achieve this goal, the Church and the Sasan Empire had begun planning and maneuvering more than a decade ago. They used a precious casting of the Great Divination to tip the scales of fate in the Sasan Empire’s favor and, following the steps of the prophecy, launched a military campaign against the Blackhoof tribe.

They spent seven years systematically eliminating eleven of Orogar’s Gold-rank Centaur Chiliarchs, causing chaos in the Blackhoof tribe’s command structure. Tribe members living on the periphery of their territory began to migrate toward Orogar’s royal encampment. As their power waned, other centaur tribes began to encroach on the Blackhoof’s traditional lands. Orogar was forced to issue a Great Khan’s summons, and seven major tribes joined forces, hoping to compel Orogar to recognize their newly established spheres of influence as a fait accompli.

Before the centaurs could hold their alliance council, the Sasan Empire and the Radiant Knights went all-in, mobilizing one hundred thousand cavalry and fifty thousand soldiers of the Temple Army to launch a final assault on the Blackhoof tribe’s royal encampment.

Orogar fought a retreat, leading hundreds of thousands of his people on an eastward migration. The Sasan Empire dispatched four thousand Moon Bear cavalry, twelve hundred Horned Wolf cavalry, eight hundred Griffin cavalry, and thirty thousand elite cavalry. They coordinated with the Radiant Knights’ four thousand Horned Wolf cavalry and seventeen thousand Temple Army cavalry—a total of ten thousand war beasts and fifty-seven thousand warriors—to pursue and harry the Blackhoof tribe for over a thousand kilometers, even entering the sphere of influence of the Whitetail Centaur tribe.

The other seven centaur tribes were busy fighting over the Blackhoof tribe’s territory. The Whitetail tribe, unable to stand alone and unwilling to be Orogar’s scapegoat, refused his request for an alliance. However, they agreed to dispatch troops to tie down the main human force and opened the Barreto Valley for the Blackhoof tribe to pass through.

This played right into Grand Commander Testier’s hands. He left forty-nine thousand cavalry to confront and maneuver against the Whitetail centaurs, while he led eight thousand war beast cavalry to attack Barreto Valley. To cover the retreat of the tribe’s females and young, Orogar had two Centaur Chiliarchs lead the tribe members away while he himself gathered thirteen thousand Blackhoof warriors for a pitched battle against the human war beast cavalry in the narrow terrain of Barreto Valley. In the end, he was slain by the combined might of the Legendary Sacred Warrior, the Stormwind Paladin, and Patriarch Frieders.

The lords of the Church and the Sasan Empire, after eighteen long years, had achieved their primary objective: the death of the legendary Centaur Great Khan.

For this, both the Sasan Empire and the Church paid an enormous price. Over seven years, more than forty-eight thousand valiant warriors had shed their blood on the wildlands, far more than the twenty-thousand-plus reported by the Church. In the most tragic battle, the Radiant Knights’ vice-commander, His Highness Benedict, led over ten thousand cavalry as bait, firmly latching onto the Blackhoof main force to help the Radiant Knights break out of an encirclement. An enraged Orogar personally broke through His Highness Benedict’s line. The vice-commander of the Radiant Knights, along with two Silver-rank Paladins and three Sasan Silver Knights, died on the spot. Not a single one of the more than ten thousand human soldiers survived. Patriarch Frieders’ two sons and one daughter also died heroic deaths.

After the battle, the Church and the Sasan Empire kept Benedict’s fall a secret, fearing it would shake the morale of the imperial soldiers fighting against the centaur tribes.

All the sacrifices were worth it… Today, the sacrificed would finally reclaim the glory that belonged to them!

“Benedict, do you see this? We’ve won!”

Howard gripped Orogar’s horns, staring into its pale, dead eyes. He raised the monster’s head high again, and the ever-present wind element carried his clear voice throughout the valley:

“Orogar is dead! Warriors of humanity, kill all these monsters!”

Patriarch Frieders closed his eyes, then opened them again, his expression having returned to calm. He instructed the few battle priests beside him, “Lend me your strength.”

The battle priests cupped their hands before their chests, and a gentle holy light enveloped Frieders. This was the Patriarch’s authority, the power to command the holy power of his colleagues to cast large-scale divine arts. Frieders mirrored their gesture, and a platinum-gold pillar of light shot a hundred meters into the sky before spreading out, forming a brilliant and glorious Divine Canopy. A platinum-gold mist descended from it, blanketing an area several hundred meters across. The soldiers within this area felt their fatigue vanish, their pain lessen, their spirits rise, and their courage double.

In truth, there were not many soldiers around Frieders, but a large-scale Heroism Art was tantamount to a miracle from the Lord of Radiance, announcing the victory to all.

“When all is dark, only radiance endures. The Centaur Great Khan has been beheaded! Soldiers, brothers and sisters, slaughter the Blackhoof centaurs!”

Patriarch Frieders’ voice, amplified by the divine art, was like a bugle call for the final charge. The Knights, clergy, and warriors in the heat of battle responded with a blood-boiling roar:

“Kill them all!”

“Let the enemy’s blood flow like rivers beneath our blades!”

“Kill! Kill! Kill!”

The soldiers abandoned their tactical formations, tossed aside their shields, and brandished their chipped refined iron scimitars, charging the Blackhoof centaurs behind the war beasts, Knights, and Sacred Warriors. Wounds that had not fully healed split open again, staining their bandages with fresh blood. Some had their intestines spilling out; they just shoved them back in haphazardly, then bit down on their scimitars and clutched their stomachs as they continued to chase down the centaurs. The low-ranked battle priests accompanying the troops had to call on the Sacred Warriors to pin these reckless soldiers to the ground.

It had been hard enough to save them; for them to die not in the heat of battle but at the moment of victory would be utterly senseless.

When the Blackhoof centaur warriors saw the humans hoist their Great Khan’s head on a spear, their will to fight shattered. They had no heart for battle and fled, following their clan commanders toward the eastern exit of Barreto Valley. Otherwise, the common soldiers and low-ranked clergy would have surely suffered even more fatal blows.

Once again, it was proven that two-legged humans could not outrun four-legged centaurs. The High-ranked Knights chased the Blackhoof centaurs for a time, then reined in their war beasts, formed a temporary defensive line, and directed the soldiers to clean up the battlefield and treat the wounded.

The casualties and spoils were quickly tallied. The Sasan Empire and the Radiant Knights had lost a total of 1,107 soldiers and 2,336 aberrant war beasts. Over 2,900 were wounded, more than 700 of them seriously. Another 100-plus aberrant war beasts were incapacitated and could only be put out of their misery. In contrast, the allied human forces had annihilated 2,649 Blackhoof centaur warriors.

Because the allied forces took no beastman prisoners, there would be no living centaurs on the battlefield. The casualty ratio was 3,574 humans to 2,649 Blackhoof centaurs.

Without a doubt, this was a glorious victory. Facing the elite of the Blackhoof tribe, not a single High-ranked Knight or high-ranking clergy member from the human side had fallen in battle. The Blackhoof tribe, however, had lost the legendary centaur Orogar and 191 Savage Centaur warriors.

Night fell completely. The soldiers lit bonfires, dug pits, and prepared to make camp. Some were busy butchering the centaur corpses, tossing the upper bodies and entrails to the aberrant war beasts. They then skinned the equine lower halves, cut up the horse meat, and skewered it on spears to roast.

The smell of blood and roasting meat merged into a thick, brutal aroma that wafted through Barreto Valley, causing the wild beasts and monsters in the mountain forests to fall silent, cowering and trembling in the most distant, hidden corners.

Tournans trod on the soft ground and entered a temporary open-air enclosure. The high-ranking clergy and High-ranked Knights sat around a bonfire, talking and laughing. A simple wooden frame stretched out a huge, reddish-brown horsehide. Testier stood beneath the hide, a graceful smile on his handsome face, using a Mithril dagger to slice thin pieces of meat from Orogar’s hind leg. He threaded them onto a longsword for the High-ranked Knights to take and roast.

The slices of meat were as thin as a cicada’s wing, showing no muscle texture, and were a translucent amber color, as if carved from the finest yellow-glazed rock. Under the licking flames, the meat curled slightly but gave off no scent of fat.

Tournans sniffed, sat down cross-legged beside Frieders, and stared at the piece of meat on the tip of his sword. “Isn’t it done yet?” he asked.

A rare smile appeared on the old Patriarch’s stern face. He turned his longsword and said, “How can this stuff ever be properly cooked? Do you want to try some? I can’t chew it anyway.”

Tournans took the slice of meat from the sword’s tip, placed it in his mouth, chewed a few times, and swallowed. “Where’s Storch?” he asked.

The Feliett Emperor, who had rare blue hair, chimed in with a smile, “His Highness Storch Testier took Orogar’s equine heart and went to the Giantstone Mountains to the east. He plans to take the legendary centaur’s heart back to the Holy See while it’s still fresh to make top-tier Dragon’s Vein Potions… Your Highness Tournans, would you like another piece?”

“It can produce at least two thousand Dragon’s Vein Potions… Tournans, the Templars can have three hundred.”

Commander Testier handed over a longsword skewered with a slice of meat. Tournans took it and began to roast it while chewing on the horse meat the Feliett Emperor had given him.

His eyes reflected two dark red bonfires, and a teeth-grating chewing sound came from his mouth. A heavy, oppressive atmosphere quietly spread. The Gold Knights present felt a chill in their hearts. Although they were not circulating their Aura, and Tournans was not deliberately targeting anyone, the power of the mind naturally emanating from the Legendary Sacred Warrior was already affecting their will.

Truly worthy of being the First Sacred Warrior praised by Sylvia!

Tournans swallowed the thoroughly chewed piece of meat and said gravely, “I feel uneasy.”

The wind howled mournfully, and the leaping bonfire cast flickering shadows on everyone’s faces. Testier’s expression was exceptionally grave. “Tournans, what is your premonition?”

Tournans closed his eyes. After a long moment, he opened them and shook his head. “It’s not clear… Something terrible will happen tonight.”

The cold wind abruptly stopped, and the bonfire flames shrank to their lowest point. Testier’s ice-blue eyes slowly turned, the azure storm within them recongealing into ice. A moment later, the phenomenon vanished, and the bonfire flared up again.

“I trust brother Tournans’ premonition.” Testier looked around with a smile. “We’ve achieved our objective. The Blackhoof tribe’s leadership-level centaurs are almost all wiped out, but their main fighting force is still largely intact. The reason we were able to hunt down Orogar was because he lost eleven of his claws and couldn’t control the vast Blackhoof tribe. It was also for this reason that the other centaur tribes dared to challenge the Blackhoof’s supremacy. Now that Orogar is dead, the remaining two Blackhoof chiliarchs are even less capable of leading hundreds of thousands of their kin to migrate and survive. The Whitetail Centaur tribe, for one, won’t pass up this juicy piece of meat!”

Patriarch Frieders nodded and added, “If those two Blackhoof chiliarchs take the initiative to surrender to the Whitetail tribe, our situation could become very grim! If the Whitetail tribe wants to swallow the Blackhoof tribe whole, they’ll have to raise the banner of avenging Orogar, rally the remaining Blackhoof warriors, pin us down here in Barreto Valley, and then move their entire tribe west to compete with the other centaur tribes for territory.”

Frederick lightly tapped his sword blade and nodded. “In fact, it was our pestering pursuit of Orogar that kept the other centaur tribes from acting rashly. We are now an isolated force, surrounded by powerful enemies. Our situation has become dangerous. Tonight is the perfect opportunity for the Whitetail centaurs to launch a surprise attack… We cannot engage the Whitetail tribe, lest we become a stepping stone for them to subdue the Blackhoof centaurs.”

The Sasan Emperor’s gaze swept across the group. “We’ll withdraw tonight and let the remaining centaur tribes fight amongst themselves. When they’ve bled each other dry, they’ll just splinter into small clans. Then we can come back to skin the horses and eat the meat!”

Uthain Baselius set down the Centaur Great Khan’s head, his gaze shifting to the Duke of Moon Bear. “Eistoff, what do you say?”

The Duke of Moon Bear’s expression was grim. In this battle, more than half of the aberrant war beasts killed were Moon Bears from the Teutonic Duchy, accounting for nearly a quarter of the Duchy’s entire Moon Bear population. This was mainly because the thick-skinned Moon Bears were a bit duller than the Horned Wolves and Griffins. In battle, the Moon Bears faced the centaurs’ massed charges head-on, effectively protecting the soldiers and Knights, but suffering heavy casualties themselves.

Fortunately, while the Moon Bears were slow-witted, they weren’t true aberrant war beasts. They were beasts bred with Wizard’s magical potions and possessed a rare talent. After feasting on the fresh flesh and blood of Savage creatures, Moon Bears could enter a dormant state for anywhere from two days to half a month. The longer the hibernation and the fresher the meat consumed, the greater the enhancement the Moon Bear would receive, even potentially entering a Deeply Savaged State.

It was a rare opportunity to have so many Savage Centaur corpses for the Moon Bears to feast on. If they retreated overnight, what the Moon Bears ate as Savage Centaurs would come out as bear dung. All the hard work of those stupid bears would be for nothing.

However, a centaur was a man on a horse’s body, able to both run and fight. War beast cavalry, on the other hand, often had to dismount during combat to allow their war beasts to fight at full capacity. This led to a very awkward situation: war beast cavalry could outrun centaurs, but they couldn’t beat them in a straight fight. In a one-on-one encounter, the war beast cavalry would win. Ten-on-ten, the war beast cavalry would still win. But a hundred-on-a-hundred, the centaurs had the upper hand, unless the war beast cavalry were all elites of the apprentice knight level. Among all the human kingdoms, only the war beast cavalry of Gambis were all apprentice knights… The August family was simply deranged!

If the Whitetail centaurs truly launched a night raid, the soldiers and low-ranked Sacred Warriors in the valley would be in extreme danger.

The Duke of Moon Bear understood this. He stood up and walked out. A moment later, they all heard him roar:

“Bram, tell our bears to stop eating the centaurs… Pack it all up to go! Now! Immediately! At once!”

Commander Testier smiled faintly and rose to his feet. “This battle will be recorded in the annals of history. The heroic deeds of everyone here will surely be sung by generations to come!” As he spoke, he nodded to Uthain, who shared his hair color and a common ancestor. “Baselius has not brought shame to our ancestors’ name.”

“The Griffin banner has never been shamed. Not in the past, and not in the future,” Uthain Baselius said coolly, also rising and leaving the simple enclosure.

The Feliett Emperor smiled without a word. Patriarch Frieders got up, and the others followed suit. He said, “Killing Orogar has already exceeded the scope of the Great Divination, but this was all under the guidance of the Supreme Lord… We have sacrificed much, but we have mastered a proven method for fighting centaurs. Our future is bright!”

“Praise be to the Supreme Lord of Radiance!”

Frederick said with authority, “In the name of the Sasan Emperor, I order the imperial troops to withdraw and return to our lines immediately… Before we leave, mount all the centaur heads on stakes as a tribute to the warriors who died on the battlefield. May their souls find peace in the Lord’s divine kingdom.”

“As you command, Your Majesty,” the High-ranked Knights of the Sasan Empire responded in unison.

The Knights and clergy filed out. Testier lingered behind and tossed Orogar’s head to Tournans, clapping him on the shoulder. “Charlottia Benedict is in the rear. You have avenged her father’s blood feud. Give this head to her… She will be very happy!”

The unease in Tournans’ heart had not lessened with the decision to retreat. He shook his head, deciding to leave this valley first.

The bald Sacred Warrior, carrying the head of the Centaur Great Khan, caught up to Testier. “Howard, there’s something I’ve never understood. You call me brother, so why is my wife your niece?”

“Because Charlottia’s father was my distant cousin. You married Charlottia, but she is still my niece.”

“But you’re fifty-five years younger than Benedict… My wife is two years older than you.”

“That is of no consequence.”

“How distant is a distant cousin, exactly?” Tournans pressed, unwilling to give up.

“Hmm… Very distant, but not too distant… In short, you married my niece. And your two children have to call me grandfather.”

“I don’t believe you. You’re definitely taking advantage of my son! Your son is taking advantage of my son too…”

“You don’t believe me? Go look it up in a book on heraldry!”

“…I’d rather not. That stuff gives me a headache…”

The human soldiers withdrew under the cover of night, leaving a deathly silence and a grim atmosphere in Barreto Valley.

In a dark, lightless thicket of shrubs, two dark red points of light appeared. A stooped figure moved with a twisted gait toward the valley floor. It had the head of a hyena, a hunched back, and a coat of messy, blood-stained fur. A dark red light glowed in its eye sockets. It had two arrows piercing its chest, no breath, and it staggered as it walked.

An undead! A Gnoll undead!

If a priest of the Lord of Radiance were present, he would have prayed to the Supreme Lord and sworn to find the Wizard behind this undead and send him to the Church’s pyre.

Undead absolutely did not appear under natural conditions. Only the most evil of Wizards could make a corpse that had lost its affinity for the water element rise again. The servants of the Lord of Radiance never showed mercy to Wizards who desecrated the dead, vowing to Purify them even if they had to chase them into the depths of the Northern Wildlands.

Unfortunately, there were no priests here. Only the howling night wind, several thousand centaur heads impaled on stakes, and the earth, stained red with blood.

The Gnoll undead walked to the spot where the Centaur Great Khan, Orogar, had fallen. The legendary centaur’s blood had once pooled there. From its sharp-toothed mouth came the prayer of an ancient Chosen:

“As the gods are my witness, the scales of fate will eventually find balance. Those who scorn destiny shall be scorned by destiny. Great Earth Mother, your favored child has suffered the injustice of fate. In the name of the great King of Shadows, I swear to you that I will return your favor to your creation, and I will visit your wrath upon those who scorn destiny.”

As the undead prayed, dark runes, deeper than the night itself, arranged themselves in a circle. The thousands of centaur heads seemed to open their eyes, scrutinizing the Gnoll undead’s oath. A bloody mist rose from the black, dried pool of blood and coalesced around the Gnoll. Its Physique rapidly filled out. It casually pulled out the arrows piercing its chest, the wounds healing and muscles bulging high. Its fur regained its luster, and its dark red eyes grew brighter.

“Not enough, not enough! More, more… They killed one Orogar, I’ll give you back two Great Khans!”

The Gnoll undead’s cackling laughter drifted on the wind. More blood mists rose in Barreto Valley, converging on it. Its body swelled at a visible rate. Its mane fell out as its form expanded, and its skin bulged and burst with countless cuts, squeezing out clumps of pale muscle until it became a terrifying, 2.6-meter-tall monster.

The black runes silently dissipated, the blood mist subsided and sank back down. The eyes of the thousands of centaur heads remained as dead as before, as if everything that had just happened was a false illusion.

The 2.6-meter-tall Gnoll undead, its body a mass of explosive muscle, dropped to all fours and sprinted against the night wind toward the eastern exit of the valley. It moved as fast as a phantom, vanishing at the end of Barreto Valley in an instant.

Laketon, the small church in the East District. Miller sat by his bed, gazing at the candlelight on the table. A mocking yet gratified smile slowly spread across his deeply-lined face.

“Heh heh, you finally couldn’t sit still… Those who scorn destiny shall be scorned by destiny. But what about you? And what about the one who stands outside of destiny? Ha, ha, ha, King of Shadows, your defeat begins tonight!”

Chapter 501: A Change Spiraling Out of Control

The Sasan Empire’s war beast cavalry withdrew from Barreto Valley and, after rejoining the main cavalry force, began a slow retreat to the west.

When the Khan of the Whitetail tribe saw the centaur head impaled on a human spear, he impatiently split his forces. One contingent would “escort” the human army out of their territory, while the other rushed to “detain” the passing Blackhoof centaurs.

The Blackhoof tribe was renowned in the wildlands for their numerous females and robust foals. Now that they had lost their leader, the Whitetail tribe certainly wouldn’t let them go. All the able-bodied male Whitetail centaurs mobilized at their chieftain’s call, gleefully setting out to intercept the Blackhoof tribe.

The Whitetail Khan even began to imagine the scene of taking Orogar’s beautiful wives and concubines for himself. But he never expected that shortly after he left, his tribe’s camp would erupt in turmoil.

Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh!

Arrows rained down like a swarm of locusts, peppering a large hide tent. A hundred centaurs circled the tent, running and firing without pause. They were swift and their bodies relatively slender, their facial features softer than the males; they were the adult females of the Whitetail tribe.

Even as females, their average weight exceeded 900 pounds, and their strength and stamina far surpassed that of small- to medium-sized intelligent creatures like Gnolls. Under their relentless assault, the hide tent, riddled with holes, finally collapsed, kicking up a cloud of dust. The centaurs ceased their fire, and a group of stout, squat Bugbears immediately scrambled forward on their short legs, howling as they charged the collapsed tent.

With a loud rip, the hide was torn asunder and logs went flying. From the ruins of the tent, a tall, deformed figure emerged. It stood a full 2.6 meters tall, hairless, with the head of a Gnoll atop a burly body. The proportions were jarring, as if it were a monster stitched together from the corpses of a Gnoll and an Ogre, creating a sense of horrifying unreality. Bulging, knotted muscles stretched its shriveled skin to the breaking point, a deathly-pale color devoid of life. The only color on its entire body were two deep red embers glowing in its eye sockets, making it look like a demon crawled out of Hell.

It tore apart the strong but brainless Bugbears with its massive claws as if butchering a herd of docile herbivores. As its gaze swept over them, the female centaurs and the Gnoll slaves lagging behind felt their scalps tingle and shrank back. The difference was that while the female centaurs felt fear, the Gnolls’ fearful gazes held a flicker of calculation and excitement. They exchanged subtle glances, clearly nursing malicious thoughts.

Braving a hail of arrows, the monster tore the last Bugbear that dared to attack it in two. The female centaurs finally gave up their attack, preparing to flee. Just then, the monster picked up the mangled corpse of a centaur foal from the rubble and began to tear at it viciously.

The female centaurs’ eyes instantly turned red. They drew their heavy javelins and, with a great cry, launched a group charge at the monster. The javelins, powerful enough to pierce the hide of a wild red bull, struck the monster’s body as if they had hit an Ogre Warlord’s tough hide, bouncing harmlessly off its pale, knotted muscles, leaving not a single wound. The female centaurs immediately scattered, forming a circular firing line to shoot heavy arrows at the monster.

If a charging javelin had no effect on the monster, the female centaurs’ heavy arrows were even less effective. However, this crisscrossing ring formation allowed them to cover each other and restrict the monster’s movements, preventing it from hunting down the tribe’s foals and weaker members.

The female centaurs resolved to stall for time, to wait for the tribe’s Warriors to return and deal with this terrifying monster.

However, the monster had no intention of getting pestered by the female centaurs. The muscles on its legs bulged, and the ground beneath its feet spiderwebbed with cracks. Its strong, twisted body shot forward like a cannonball, breaking through the centaurs’ encirclement.

A few female centaurs were caught off guard, their bones shattering as they were sent flying by the monster’s impact. They hit the ground with horrific shrieks. The remaining females tried to give chase, only to be suddenly ambushed by the Gnoll slaves.

These cunning, bloodthirsty, and cruel beastmen seized the opportunity to launch a rebellion, fiercely attacking the other races in the camp. The female centaurs were incensed, furiously unleashing their javelins and heavy arrows on the rebellious slaves.

The indiscriminate slaughter and suppression triggered chaos that engulfed the entire camp. Now, no matter who, and whether they wished it or not, they were forced to fight back. Centaurs, Goblins, Gnolls, and Kobolds tore at each other in a chaotic melee.

The “monster” swatted away a few fawning Gnolls, and the Shadow Council President possessing it grew ever more anxious. This vessel carried too much centaur Bloodline power and would soon collapse. Yet he still hadn’t found a suitable centaur to inherit Orogar’s Bloodline power and complete the Earth Mother’s blessing ritual.

Research from the Council of the Chosen showed that whenever any race faced a great disaster, many “heroes” would emerge from among their people. They grew in adversity, shouldering the mission of saving their people from peril. This phenomenon was closely related to the will of the race’s Ancestral God. Tracing it back to its essence, it could be seen as fate’s self-correction.

When mortal power alters the course of fate, fate will always rebound in various ways. The Church’s use of Great Divination to deal with the threat of the Blackhoof centaurs hadn’t touched upon the survival of the entire centaur race, so naturally, it didn’t cause any unforeseeable consequences.

According to the normal correction of the Force of Destiny, the decline of the Blackhoof would lead to the rise of several other centaur tribes.

However, a divided collection of centaur tribes posed no threat to the Sasan Empire, much less the human kingdoms as a whole.

What the Shadow Council President had to do was redirect this natural correction of fate’s power toward a specific “hero,” allowing a new Great Khan to rise among the centaur tribes. Only then could he achieve his goal.

The Shadow Council, under the protection of the Church’s Inquisition, was as obscure as rats in a sewer, unknown to the world. Seeing that the human kingdoms were about to shift from defense to offense, the Shadow Council would be forsaken by fate and ultimately fade into oblivion if it failed to make its mark on the grand stage of this new era.

Fate is ethereal and complex, with many forms of expression. Besides rebounding from adversity, another of its principles was that the strong grow stronger while the weak grow weaker, and the rich grow richer while the poor grow poorer. This manifested as a tendency for fame, power, resources, and strength to attract more of the same.

The Shadow Council had acquired the legacy of the Council of the Chosen through ancient documents collected at the Holy Mountain Monastery. The line of succession for the Shadow Council President had, to this day, accumulated considerable knowledge. The current President had studied history and contemporary politics, keenly sensing that the human kingdoms were in a phase of rebounding from adversity.

The beastmen tribes occupied the fertile Northern Wildlands and had lost their drive, embroiled in internal conflict. Meanwhile, humanity was squeezed into the barren south, where Knight-Nobles and the clergy had sidelined the Pope, completed the reintegration of the Church, and given rise to the Spirit Knights. Outstanding individuals were emerging one after another. The Church’s scholars had spent hundreds of years cultivating wheat from foxtail grass, and Viscount Randell had discovered the method of deep plowing and careful cultivation, solving humanity’s food crisis. The Forest Centaurs had migrated, the barbarians had come down from the mountains seeking alliances with humans, the various kingdoms were united against a common foe, and the Sasan Empire was poised for action.

Every sign indicated that the scales of fate were finally tipping in humanity’s favor!

In the surging river of fate, whoever could intercept a portion of its power would advance further, gaining prestige, authority, resources, and even breaking through their own limits to reach a higher realm.

The Council of the Chosen called such people the Favored of Destiny. Their counterparts were the Forsaken of Destiny.

The first Pope Inoc, ten thousand years ago, was one of the Favored of Destiny. The various knightly families had also intercepted a portion of fate’s power, while the Chosen had become the tragic Forsaken of Destiny.

Now, the Radiant Knights, the Pope, the three great Patriarchs including Frieders and Tamor, and all the great royal families were vying for the Force of Destiny. Those who did nothing would simply lose fate’s favor and be forgotten by history.

Of course, the Shadow Council President had to compete as well. He had guided the Shadow Wizards of the Council to create Bloodlust Potions and, risking exposure, helped the great nobles cultivate Bloodguards and Shadow Warriors. The goal was to gain the support of secular lords so the Council could come out of the shadows and thus intercept the Force of Destiny in the tides of fate!

Although the Shadow Council’s plan had encountered setbacks, it was generally proceeding smoothly. The Shadow Wizards had made contact with both Dodor and the Baselius family. However, Viscount Randell’s sudden introduction of the tenant system drove the Shadow Council President to despair.

The tenant system transformed refugees into tenant households, directly administered by the great nobles. This was tantamount to the great nobles controlling the vast majority of wizards.

Would the great nobles hand over the wizards they captured to the Shadow Council? Without new blood, how could the Shadow Council survive?

The President would rather the Shadow Council only be semi-public than lose the organization’s independence. Only then could he seize more of the Force of Destiny and reach a higher realm.

If the situation continued to develop this way, forget going semi-public; the entire organization would disintegrate. The power, beauty, and wealth of the Knight-Nobles were incredibly attractive to the Shadow Wizards. If they all took the Shadow Council’s research and defected to the great nobles, the centuries of scheming by his line of Presidents would be nothing but a joke.

Therefore, the Shadow Council President used the mystical rituals of ancient wizards to interfere with the fate of the centaur race, creating two powerful Legendary-rank centaurs. He would use them to strike a heavy blow against the Radiant Knights and the Sasan Empire, and then, in the guise of a savior, coerce the Church and the lords into recognizing the legitimate status of a “Shadow Archbishop.” This would free the Shadow Wizards from the control of the Trigoval family and establish them as an independent branch under the Church, specifically to manage the wizards in the human kingdoms and help the various kingdoms expand their territories, thereby currying favor with fate.

From then on, the Shadow Wizards would be called the Supreme Lord’s Shadow Shepherds.

He had even planned out the Shadow Wizards’ future name and organizational structure, but he never imagined that there wouldn’t be a single adult male in the Savage state in the Whitetail tribe’s camp… They had all fucking run off to intercept the Blackhoof centaurs!

Although an ordinary centaur foal could also bear Orogar’s Bloodline power, it would take at least twenty years for them to go from the Savage state to a deep Savage state and finally master their Legendary-rank Bloodline talent. If the vessel took too long to mature, it would no longer pose an urgent threat to the Sasan Empire.

Given the Sasan Empire’s current size and strength, ten years of the tenant system would at least double the Empire’s power. In twenty years, what level would the combined strength of the human kingdoms reach?

The Shadow Council President couldn’t wait twenty years. Right now, he couldn’t even wait twenty minutes.

This Gnoll undead’s shell was collapsing, a faint blood mist swirling around its body. In fifteen minutes at most, it would dissolve into a pile of rotten flesh!

Is this how it ends? Damned beasts… If they’re damned beasts, then let them die!

The wizard’s desperate emotions caused the red light in the monster’s eye sockets to flare malevolently. It began to slaughter the female centaurs and foals in the camp with frenzied brutality. Wherever the monster went, it left a trail of blood and gore. The females and the old and young of the Whitetail tribe shrieked in despair and agony under its claws.

A heavy javelin flew in from a distance. The monster didn’t dodge or evade, about to tear apart the female centaur beneath it. With a thud, the javelin pierced the monster’s tough body, the immense force sending it flying back several meters.

The President looked up in delight. Three powerful male centaurs were galloping toward them. The one in the lead was taller and more robust than his companions. He raised his arm, and another javelin whistled through the air, striking the monster in the chest and pinning it to the ground.

A Savage Centaur warrior! Only one? There’s not enough time. I can only divide Orogar’s Bloodline power among the other two ordinary centaurs… That’s fine too. The three of them seem to be brothers… A Legendary-rank centaur aided by two Gold rank brothers should be able to gain control of the Whitetail and Blackhoof tribes quickly.

The Gnoll undead pulled the two javelins from its chest, climbed to its feet, and let out a defiant roar at the Savage Centaur warrior. But when the three Whitetail warriors saw the terrifying monster pull the javelins from its chest as if they were nothing, they immediately sensed the danger. They fanned out to the sides, running while firing heavy arrows from their greatbows at the monster.

Kiting was a traditional centaur tactic for fighting powerful enemies, especially effective against resilient foes like Ogres or giant beasts. The heavy arrows they fired were indeed more powerful than those of the females, and even the Gnoll undead’s bulging muscles couldn’t withstand them. Its chest and thighs were soon bristling with a dozen heavy arrows.

The President grew secretly anxious. The mystical ritual required testing the centaur vessel’s courage and spirit of sacrifice. Only a true hero could bear the destiny of the tribe and receive fate’s favor. These three centaur warriors had to face the murderer of their people head-on and kill it in a direct confrontation for the ritual to succeed.

The President directed the undead to give chase, but the Savage Centaur galloped off toward the edge of the camp, clearly trying to lure the monster away from its home.

A beast is a beast, absolutely no sense of honor!

The President was about to go mad. He had never encountered a situation like this, and stuck in the undead’s body, he couldn’t use any other types of spells.

The Savage Centaur ran forward, its upper body constantly twisted back to fire arrows. Its anxious gaze flickered to the injured female on the ground. An idea struck the President. He turned and drove off another centaur warrior who was trying to rescue the female, then returned to his spot, stomped on the female’s back, and extended his monstrous claws, carving deep, bone-visible wounds into her body.

Blood gushed out, dyeing the ground red. The female centaur’s four legs twitched in pain. Her hands clenched the soil, digging two pits that quickly filled with her blood. But she clenched her jaw and refused to scream.

The three centaur warriors fired their heavy arrows with increasing urgency. The monster raised its thick arm to shield its eyes, allowing its body to be shot into a porcupine. After the centaur warriors fired their last arrow, it wriggled its pale muscles, forcing all the arrows out of its body. Then, it gouged a large, bloody piece of flesh from the female centaur’s leg, stuffed it into its mouth, chewed for a moment, and contemptuously spat it onto the ground.

“Don’t mind me! Cover our sisters and get the children out of here!” the female centaur cried out to the warriors, tears streaming down her face.

“Cowardly Whitetail centaurs, you are unworthy of your bows and javelins. Watch as I take her head…”

The monster spoke with Orogar’s voice. It crushed the female centaur into a pool of her own blood with its clawed foot, then squatted, grabbing her by her curved horns and forcing the warriors to see her bloodless face.

“Alita! No!”

The Savage Centaur warrior’s eyes turned crimson, and white mist snorted from its nostrils. Its powerful heart beat violently, and the veins on its body bulged as it began a final charge at the monster. The earth trembled beneath its hooves. Its javelin flew like lightning, piercing the monster’s chest. It brandished two heavy spiked clubs, closing the four-hundred-meter distance in an instant as the two behemoths crashed into each other.

The monster knocked away the two spiked clubs and pinned the centaur warrior to the ground with berserk strength, swiping its claws and leaving three bleeding gashes. The Savage Centaur warrior fought back desperately, grabbing both of the monster’s claws with his hands. His four-toed hooves clenched into fists and slammed into the monster’s abdomen with the sound of muffled thunder.

“Cowardly Whitetail centaur, do you think this is enough to defeat me? Do you think this is enough to save your people?”

The monster sneered as it pressed its claws toward the centaur warrior’s neck, letting him hammer its chest and abdomen. With every blow it took, the blood mist around the monster thickened, drifting toward the centaur warrior’s wounds. The centaur warrior felt his strength growing, yet he couldn’t budge the monster an inch.

Just as the Savage Centaur warrior was about to collapse, the other two Whitetail centaurs charged in. They stabbed at the monster’s chest and head with their short spears. But the monster broke free and swatted them to the ground with its claws.

With his brothers’ help, the Savage Centaur finally got to its feet and grappled with the monster. His brothers scrambled up one after another and joined the fray. The four giants fought, inflicting wounds on each other. However, what flowed from the centaurs was blood, while the monster gushed clouds of blood mist.

The blood mist grew thicker, soon obscuring the figures of the centaurs and the monster. The three centaurs only felt their strength swelling, while the monster seemed to be getting weaker and smaller. But they didn’t notice that the mist was seeping into their bodies through their wounds.

“This monster can’t be killed!”

“We have to find a way to twist its head off!”

An obsidian dagger pierced the monster’s neck from behind, slicing its head clean off… It was the female centaur. She had somehow gotten behind the monster. The wounds on her body had already scabbed over, with only a small amount of blood seeping out.

The President, seeing through the undead’s eyes, stared in astonishment at the female holding the monster’s head. He spoke the final prayer of the ritual in Orogar’s booming voice:

“Kweglo!”

The Gnoll head spoke, startling the female centaur so much she immediately threw it away. The monster’s severed neck gushed a sky-full of blood mist like a spring. The mist seemed alive, continuously merging into the wounds of the four centaurs, with the female centaur absorbing the most. Their wounds healed rapidly, their bodies growing full and well-proportioned, their coats shining with a healthy luster. When the blood mist vanished, the Whitetail tribe saw four exceptionally magnificent centaurs.

The females, foals, and old centaurs of the camp emerged from the rubble and gathered around the four. A gaunt, balding old centaur suddenly whinnied:

“Kweglo!”

In the centaur tongue, Kweglo means: the steed carried by the earth.

One of the Savage Centaur’s brothers had a sudden realization. He grabbed the arms of the female and the Savage Centaur and shouted, “Alita, Kweglo! Polta, Kweglo!”

“Alita! Polta! Kweglo!”

“Kweglo! Kweglo!”

The rebellious Gnoll slaves began to flee, but the Whitetail centaurs had no mind to pursue them. They gathered together, raising their javelins and bows, shouting loudly, proclaiming their tribe’s heroes to the world, to all the spirits, and to the Earth Mother.

“Alita, Kweglo! Polta, Kweglo!”

Five hundred kilometers away, Tournans pulled on the reins of his Horned Wolf, looking back to the west. Testier turned his own Horned Wolf and trotted to his side, asking with concern, “Brother, how are you feeling? Do you think the Whitetail tribe will pursue us?”

The Legendary Sacred Warrior shook his head and said in confusion, “The feeling of danger suddenly vanished…”

Testier breathed a sigh of relief. It had been nearly three days since they left Barreto Valley, and Tournans had constantly felt some kind of threat. It had kept everyone on edge, afraid that the Whitetail and Blackhoof tribes would catch up and attack the allied army.

“It’s finally over…” The Grand Commander smiled and raised his eyebrows. “Isn’t this a good thing? Brother, if you frown any harder, you won’t have any eyebrows left.”

Tournans moved his lips and muttered, “I don’t know why, but the feeling of danger vanished abruptly, as if a sharp blade had sliced through a rope… I’ve never experienced anything like this before… It always fades away slowly.”

“Maybe the Whitetail Khan suddenly died, or the two tribes suddenly started fighting,” Testier said with a shrug. He then asked, “Is it gone now?”

Tournans hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “It’s… gone now!”

Chapter 502: The Hidden Highness (Part 1)

The Blinor River slammed against the rocky highlands where the Royal Capital of Gambia stood, its surging waters splitting into two main tributaries. One rushed eastward before turning south, passing the Joshua family’s Deepwater City, and finally merging into the Goldwater River. The other flowed westward, making a wide loop before also turning south to empty into the same Goldwater River.

The people of Gambia called these two largest tributaries of the Blinor River the East Noir River and the West Noir River, respectively. Between them lay the heartland of the Kingdom of Gambia—the fertile Three Forks Plain.

The East and West Noir Rivers formed a natural barrier for the Three Forks Plain. To connect the eastern and western territories of Gambia, the Auguste family had built numerous ropeway bridges, pontoon bridges, and ferries over the two north-south flowing rivers. However, there were only two major transportation hubs capable of accommodating heavy carriages. One was Deepwater City on the East Noir River, and the other was Longbridge Town, situated on the middle reaches of the West Noir River.

A stone arch bridge, over one hundred and forty meters long, spanned the river, connecting the Three Forks Plain with the kingdom’s western territories. This was how Longbridge Town got its name.

The main body of this long bridge was constructed from sturdy limestone, with a total of thirty arches. The bridge deck was composed of a series of ironwood drawbridges and gatehouse outposts, which not only reduced the bridge’s weight and facilitated maintenance but also served a military purpose. When the drawbridges were lowered, the bridge deck was a full eighteen meters wide, divided into two lanes that could allow six heavy carriages to pass side-by-side. When defending against an enemy, soldiers could raise the drawbridges, turning the long bridge into an impassable natural barrier.

As a vital gateway guarding the kingdom’s heartland, more than half of all goods traveling between the Royal Capital and the western territories passed through Longbridge Town. The endless stream of large caravans and travelers added a strong commercial atmosphere to this military stronghold. Both the east and west ends of Longbridge Town boasted large trade yards filled with rows of shops, taverns, inns, and other places of leisure, and of course, high-end inns for nobles to stay.

Longbridge Town was densely populated and well-supplied, one of the few prosperous towns in the kingdom, but staying too long could become tedious. The little attendants, on their first long journey with Master Randell, were especially eager to see the Royal Capital on the Blinor.

Nine days ago, the Randell family caravan arrived in Longbridge Town. Their master ordered the caravan to rest for a day to replenish supplies before continuing to the Royal Capital for the winter. But as the caravan was leaving, the Garrison Commander of Longbridge Town caught up to them, holding a letter delivered by messenger raven from Aerie Fortress. He requested that Viscount Randell stay in Longbridge Town for a few more days, explaining that a great and honored personage was coming to join the Randell family caravan.

So, the caravan returned to the west side of town. Master Randell did not reveal the identity of this great personage, but everyone could see that their master was full of anticipation.

It was not until last night that Viscount Randell finally announced to everyone that Her Majesty the Queen Mother would be accompanying him on his visit to the Kingdom of Naville. The caravan’s itinerary would also have to be adjusted. They would depart from the west side of Longbridge Town and travel north along the bank of the West Noir River, stopping in Minsk County before the snowy season began. They would then continue to Naville the following year, after the ice and snow had melted.

Early this morning, the little attendants, their hearts pounding with a mixture of excitement and unease, tidied their appearances, composed themselves, and put on their best faces, ready to welcome Her Majesty the Queen Mother, Catherine Auguste. In the afternoon, a troop of cavalry escorting three noble carriages, each engraved with an ibis sigil, crossed the hundred-meter-long bridge and stopped before the Randell family caravan. Two noble ladies, wrapped in ermine fur cloaks with their faces veiled behind hooded cowls, stepped out of their carriage. Viscount Randell took the initiative to step forward and greet them. After exchanging a few words with them in a manner that was both warm yet polite, he led them aboard the main Randell family carriage.

Seeing this, Brandon’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.

The Queen Mother… she… she… she went into the Master’s carriage! And closed the door?

The vast majority of apprentice knights had no right to enter the circle of extraordinary beings. The little attendants of the Randell family were unaware that the incomparably beautiful Lady Sylvia was in fact the most honored personage of the current age. In the minds of these youngsters, the King held the highest status, followed by Dukes and Marquesses as the great nobles, then Earls and Viscounts as the middle-ranking nobility, and finally Barons and lordships at the bottom.

The Queen Mother was addressed as ‘Her Majesty,’ a status equivalent to the King’s, yet she had slipped into their master’s carriage in front of everyone?! Was the Queen Mother of Gambia also their master’s lover?!

It was no wonder the little attendants were so shocked; even the Garrison Commander of Longbridge Town wore an expression of utter disbelief. He didn’t even bother with a farewell, simply turning around and leading his soldiers away. From his flustered look, it was clear he would not be seeing them off.

A nudge in his side brought Brandon back to his senses. He turned to see it was Klaus.

“Brandon, was that lady just now Her Majesty the Queen Mother?”

“Yes, I think so… I’m not sure,” Brandon answered distractedly.

“Why don’t you… go ask Lady Elina?” Klaus prodded, pushing Brandon to stick his neck out.

Brandon snapped to his senses, rolled his eyes, and countered, “Why don’t you go?”

“…Together?” Klaus said tentatively.

Brandon’s spirits instantly lifted, and he nodded without hesitation. “Alright! Let’s all go together.”

The little attendants jostled Brandon and Klaus forward, toward where Lady Elina was standing. Seeing her from a distance conversing with several Knights of the Household Department in their exquisite armor, they ducked behind a carriage and waited. Only after the knights had left did they step forward to bow and offer their greetings.

“I was just about to send for you.”

The red-haired, green-eyed Lady Elina had shed her usual gentle and approachable demeanor. She stood with her back straight, chest out, and head held high, appearing solemn and majestic. “The caravan is about to depart. From now on, the duty of attending the main carriage will be handled by the Rose Sword-wielding Handmaidens… You will ride in the attendants’ carriage behind. Do not approach the family’s main carriage without a summons from the Master.”

“My Lady, what should we do then?” Klaus asked.

A smile touched Elina’s lips. “You must remember, this is the Randell family caravan. The Master has entrusted security to Sir Aug of Rose Manor, and I am responsible for the caravan’s daily affairs. You will serve as my couriers and assistants.”

“Yes, My Lady,” the little attendants answered in unison.

Klaus secretly shoved Brandon again. Steeling himself, Brandon asked, “My Lady, how should we interact with those… guests?”

Elina hesitated for a moment before speaking in a soft but firm voice, “Her Majesty the Queen Mother and Countess Ariel have brought four Knights of the Household Department, twenty apprentice knight squires, and twenty court handmaidens… but they are not guests. They are part of the caravan’s entourage. As for Her Majesty the Queen Mother… you are to treat her with the etiquette due to a lady of the family… do not use her surname. Address her as Lady Catherine.”

The little attendants looked at each other, the glances they exchanged filled with hidden excitement and amazement.

Her Majesty the Queen Mother really is the Master’s lover!

Viscount Randell was finally on the move. The massive caravan departed from Longbridge Town, winding its way along the riverside road. Catherine, leaning against the crystal carriage window, gazed at the scenery along the riverbank. With her back to Victor, she said excitedly, “This is my first time traveling so far… Darling, come look! There’s a flock of blue-feathered swans by the river.”

The moment she had boarded the carriage, she had kicked off her high-heeled shoes, removed her cloak and veil, and changed into a light and comfortable Spider silk long dress before slipping into the resting chamber in the rear of the carriage. Her flaxen hair cascaded down to her waist, and the pink dress traced the beautiful lines of her body. Her full, rounded hips settled back onto her slender, jade-white feet, tucked gracefully beneath her, creating an exquisitely alluring posture of casual languor.

Victor’s gaze grew hot, as did his heart. He reached out, pulled the mistress of Aerie Fortress into his arms, and lowered his head to kiss her lovely red lips. Catherine gave a soft gasp and melted into his embrace, closing her eyes and tilting her exquisite, radiant face up to respond to him with equal fervor.

It was only when Countess Ariel’s soft cough came from beyond the curtain separating the compartments that Catherine opened her moist, dazed eyes. Her cheeks flushed, she pulled her slender hand from within Victor’s shirt and gave a weak, token push.

Among all his high-ranking female knight partners, Victor’s feelings for Catherine were the shallowest. When they were apart, he hardly ever thought of her, yet every time they met, they were like fire, unable to restrain themselves.

Victor now understood that both he and Catherine were under the influence of the Wizard’s magical potion.

This potion was no low-grade aphrodisiac, but something related to the Law of bloodline procreation. For extraordinary beings who struggled with fertility, the attraction caused by the potion was extremely strong and particularly important.

From his position as a lord, the issue of an heir for the Randell family had become a weight on Victor’s mind. Before his own Bloodline stabilized, he couldn’t let any of his partners conceive a child. After it stabilized, only a Gold female knight or Sylvia could bear his offspring.

Sylvia would certainly never hand a child over to Victor. Among the remaining Gold female knights, there were only three candidates who could bear his children. Setting aside whether they would even be willing to accept Victor’s courtship, even if they did bear his child, they would likewise refuse to give the child to the Randell family.

Silver female knights couldn’t give birth to his child, and Gold female knights wouldn’t surrender their offspring. Victor was at a complete loss as to how to solve his predicament.

Of course, he could adopt a child to be the heir of the Randell family. But how could Victor, a possessor of an ancient Gold Bloodline, be content with raising a Bronze Bloodline heir?

The Mind Bloodline secret art depended on the practitioner’s talent and luck, whereas the knight’s bloodline was the most stable form of extraordinary power. One could say that the knight’s bloodline determined the stable succession and future of a family.

Consider this: an Extraordinary Knight’s personal martial power was far inferior to the airplanes, cannons, aircraft carriers, and nuclear bombs of Earth. If Extraordinary Knights were to appear on Earth, they might initially become playthings for the powerful. But what about three generations later? With their beauty, longevity, eternal youth, outstanding intellect, and extraordinary power, their bloodlines would inevitably be sought after by mortal elites. A new class of Knight-Nobles would quickly emerge in the world of Earth.

If a highly civilized modern society would bow to the charm of the knight’s bloodline, what chance did the Mind Warriors, who were still a far-off concept, even have?

In the political system Victor envisioned, the Knight-Nobles still sat at the apex of the pyramid. This was an objective reality that could not be shaken by personal will.

If Catherine could conceive Victor’s child now, it meant that other silver female knights could too. The key lay with the mysterious Wizard of Aerie Fortress.

Victor was almost certain of this; otherwise, Aerie Fortress would not have made their intimate relationship public! He wanted to possess Catherine right now, but the beautiful and charming Countess Ariel was sitting just beyond the curtain.

In fact, the little Baron had originally been a partner prepared for the high-ranking female knights of Aerie Fortress. Both female knights in the carriage had been very intimate with him. It was just that Victor’s level of life had crossed into the extraordinary realm, reversing the primary and secondary roles in their relationship. Aerie Fortress’s choice of Countess Ariel as Catherine’s personal guard was clearly not to obstruct Victor, but to remind Her Majesty the Queen Mother to exercise restraint.

The fruit was not yet ripe; it was not time for picking.

Victor knew that Aerie Fortress wanted his Gold Bloodline. If that was the price for the Wizard’s magical potion, Victor was willing to accept it. But he would not easily give up X-3 and the human bloodline just for the sake of an heir for the Randell family.

He circulated X-3 slightly, and the boiling desire quickly subsided. The burning heat in Victor’s eyes returned to clarity. Catherine, however, caught a fleeting golden glint in his pupils.

“Darling, your eyes…” Catherine, forgetting the hands that had been mischievously roaming under her dress, cupped Victor’s face and carefully studied his dark eyes.

Seeing Catherine’s slightly parted red lips and her pearly white teeth, Victor leaned in and pecked her lightly, smiling. “What’s wrong with my eyes?”

Both puzzled and delighted, Catherine offered a kiss of her own. Wrapping her arms around Victor’s neck, she whispered, “Just now, they shone with a golden light… I’m sure I wasn’t mistaken.”

“Is that so?” Victor quickly turned his head to look at a mirror inside the carriage and circulated X-3, but nothing happened.

The sound of breathing from beyond the curtain paused for a moment, then came Countess Ariel’s charming voice: “Your Excellency Randell, may I come in?”

Victor gathered his thoughts and called out, “Please come in, Countess Ariel.”

Chapter 503: The Hidden Highness (Part 2)

A Court Lady lifted the curtain, stooped, and entered the spacious but low-roofed rear carriage. She leaned against a soft cushion on the divan, curling her long legs. The hem of her skirt naturally covered her jade-like feet, and her elegant, languid posture exuded the charm of a mature woman.

Ariel’s gaze shifted to Catherine, who was nestled in Victor’s arms. Covering her mouth, she giggled. “My dear, Her Majesty, your dress is torn.”

Catherine blushed, pulling her long legs—whiter than frost and snow—under the bearskin blanket. Leaning against Victor, she smiled. “My dear, you might not know this, but your Tutor Ariel gave birth to a beautiful son eight months ago.”

Ariel was both amused and exasperated. Catherine lost all the wisdom and composure of a high-ranking knight whenever she saw Victor, acting like a little woman, afraid she would seduce her beloved.

Just as she expected, Victor’s gaze moved up to her face, his expression becoming calm and clear. He gave a reserved and polite nod, smiling. “Countess Ariel, I offer you my congratulations. I will prepare a gift for you and your son.”

According to the research of The Faceless’s wise gnomes, one of Viscount Randell’s principles for choosing a partner was that they must be single. This was likely because Viscount Randell was not a Knight skilled at controlling his emotions. He was intensely possessive of his lovers and yearned to establish a stable marital relationship with them. He was unwilling to destroy others’ marriages, nor would he allow anyone to destroy his own.

Viscount Randell’s self-discipline indicated that his resistance to high-ranking female knights was weak, making him a type that was particularly easy to entice. This was also why high-ranking female knights enjoyed using their charms on him.

In fact, the young Victor had received an education in Aerie Fortress tailored to grooming him as a male pet for comforting high-ranking female knights; he never took part when the court attendants went out to temper their martial skills and will. The Chief of The Faceless had initially nurtured the nobleman of Moon Elf bloodline with two goals in mind: first, to prepare a husband for Princess Royal Roland who was gentle in temperament but possessed a powerful bloodline; second, to placate the Spirit Knight Sylvia, thereby indirectly infiltrating and influencing the York family. It was only because the young Victor’s bloodline did not show sufficient potential that the Chief of The Faceless had sent him to Sylvia’s side through the hands of Catherine and Sophia.

Who could have guessed that the young Victor would awaken a powerful bloodline after leaving Aerie Fortress… In any case, the current Viscount Randell was the kind of partner most high-ranking female knights yearned to have.

While the Auguste family inexplicably losing a Gold Bloodline Family Guardian was certainly a cause for regret for The Faceless, the most important thing now was to prevent Viscount Randell’s bloodline from being lost to another family. On the other hand, Viscount Randell’s stubborn attitude towards partners and marriage was also a headache for Aerie Fortress.

Victor was intensely possessive of all his high-ranking knight lovers, let alone his own children. If Viscount Randell insisted on taking away his and Catherine’s child, and if Sylvia were to support him, then with the southern lords already stirring, the Auguste family would truly have to reconsider their position.

Ariel raised her slender, fair right hand, elegantly sweeping the strands of hair from her chest to behind her shoulder. She let out a light laugh and a soft sigh. “My little husband will leave me one day. Thankfully, he gave me a little angel.”

“Hm? Countess Ariel, are you so pessimistic about your own marriage?”

The Vice-Chief of The Faceless explained with a smile, “He is a naturally awakened Knight… and a naturally awakened Knight cannot remain under his wife’s wing forever. You could say that all Knights are hard-hearted fellows who are unwilling to be bossed around by their wives, even at home. If he advances to a Silver Knight and risks giving me another child, he would have repaid the help I gave him. After that, he will pursue a higher level of life… A gentle, obedient lover is indispensable, as that would make him full of confidence… Our relationship ends there.”

Victor touched his nose and smiled a little awkwardly.

Ariel lifted her eyes and spoke with calm composure, “High-ranking female knights are not weak. We do not need to depend on men, nor do we need any sympathy. We have great strength, long lifespans, and ageless beauty. Even alone, even in the wilderness, we can raise our children. For thousands of years, high-ranked Knights have opened new frontiers, won glory, and defended their families and kingdoms, while high-ranking female knights have been responsible for raising the next generation, as well as cultivating their little husbands and paramours into powerful Knights. When necessary, we too will go to the battlefield… I have had two men in my life, and perhaps I will have a third or a fourth… My current little husband is the young son of a female knight. In the future, my own son may also become the little husband of some high-ranking female knight.”

Victor nodded and said solemnly, “I have always believed this to be the greatness of female knights.”

“Greatness is a pursuit for men and Gold Knights.” A charming smile graced Ariel’s beautiful face as she spoke with a captivating air, “As silver female knights, being a good mother and a good wife is our main spiritual solace. According to the traditions of high-ranked Knights, children generally belong to the mother. If you were to deprive a silver female knight of her right to be a mother, Victor, wouldn’t you say that is too cruel?”

Victor gave the Court Lady a cool glance, slightly tightening his arm around Catherine’s slender waist.

As Viscount Randell’s deep eyes swept over her, Ariel’s heart skipped a beat. She suddenly realized that this viscount lord, as handsome and frail as a youth, was very likely a true Highness.

The Vice-Chief of The Faceless composed herself, took a soft, thin sheet of hide paper from her belt, and handed it to Victor, cooing, “Your Excellency Randell, Aerie Fortress has prepared a gift for you.”

Victor took the letter and scanned it quickly. Looking down at Catherine, he raised a slender eyebrow and asked, “This is a Blue Taro potion formula? It’s different from the one given to the York family last time.”

“This is a new formula that Aerie Fortress’s Potion-makers have only recently developed. Compared to the palliative effects of the first Blue Taro potion, this one can partially reverse brain elementalization.” Catherine rested her head on Victor’s shoulder and said softly, “My dear, it’s a gift from Aerie Fortress for you.”

When Gold Knights drew upon the power of the Elemental Sea beyond their limits, their brains would begin to undergo elementalization. While Gold Knights gained immense power, it also meant they were being assimilated by the Elemental Sea. Fortunately, Gold Knights could consciously control this process, but Spirit Knights could not. Brain elementalization shortened their lifespans, and as a Spirit Knight’s power reached its peak, their personality would grow cold and belligerent.

Victor understood at once. This formula was actually prepared by Aerie Fortress for Sylvia.

Not all Spirit Knights lived to their maximum lifespan of one hundred and twenty years. Whenever a Spirit Knight was on the verge of Annihilation, the human kingdoms would be plunged into chaos. It was rumored that the first Pope had divided the authority of Great Divination and given it to the Pontiff precisely to deal with mishaps involving Spirit Knights. This was because, throughout history, all Spirit Knights except for the Ironmountain Empress had run off to the Northern Wildlands to vent the fury of the fire element. Correspondingly, the Pontiff of that generation would be the first to fall.

However, the Knight-Nobles did not believe that Great Divination could work on a Spirit Knight at their peak. They believed that the Spirit Knights voluntarily accepted the guidance of Great Divination.

The Auguste family was terrified that Sylvia would become emotionally unstable and meet an early end, which would send a massive shockwave through the Kingdom of Gambia. Aerie Fortress needed to arrange a caring lover for Sylvia to alleviate her loneliness. But for them to give this Blue Taro potion formula to Victor was rather interesting.

If Aerie Fortress had given the formula directly to Sylvia, it would have lessened her emotional dependence on Victor. Then, if Aerie Fortress tried to reclaim Viscount Randell, Sylvia would not have been so enraged.

The question was, would Victor be willing to break up with Sylvia?

Aerie Fortress had clearly not considered this question. they were proceeding with their predetermined plan, step by step. With Viscount Randell unable to produce an heir, his value and influence within the York family were greatly diminished. The ostracized Viscount Randell would grow despondent. Aerie Fortress would then offer him benefits, exchange his territory, present the new Blue Taro potion, and then recall the dejected Viscount Randell, winning him over with gentle means. Even if Viscount Randell advanced to a Sun Elf in the future and got back together with Sylvia, he would be emotionally more inclined towards the Auguste family.

This formula would be of great help to Sylvia. If Aerie Fortress had given it to her secretly, it would have been suspicious, an attempt to drive a wedge between the two of them.

Now, Aerie Fortress had thrown the problem to Victor, forcing him to decide: to give, or not to give.

Give it, and Sylvia’s feelings for Victor would become more rational, and relationships between lords were tied to political interests. Therefore, this would benefit the York family and harm the Randall family. It would also show that Victor didn’t much care for the Randall family’s interests in the Centaur Hills, and that the Randall family had its own independence.

Don’t give it, and it would be an incredibly selfish act, disregarding Sylvia’s personal interests. Viscount Randell would then realize his feelings for Sylvia were not unbreakable, and his inner guilt would be impossible to resolve. The two would only drift further apart.

Victor couldn’t help but to applaud enthusiastically for Aerie Fortress’s overt scheme.

Unfortunately, Aerie Fortress’s brilliant overt scheme was too petty and laughable compared to Victor’s own plans. He was more interested in the two signals Aerie Fortress was sending:

I know you are a Highness now, and Aerie Fortress gives you the respect you deserve; my mastery of Potion-making is unparalleled. If Your Highness knows about magical potions, then there is no mistake—it was I who cultivated your Moon Elf bloodline, and only I can help you.

Victor looked at the formula again and again, thinking with delight, “This is probably the correct way to use Blue Taro… That mysterious Wizard at Aerie Fortress is incredible, to be able to recreate even the ancient Alchemists’ method for using Blue Taro… It seems I need to have a good talk with him.”

After rolling up the hide formula, Victor gently set the Queen Mother aside, pushed open the carriage’s crystal window, and beckoned to a Knight of the Household Department.

The Knight of the Household Department came over and asked respectfully, “My lord, what are your orders?”

“I want you to deliver this formula to Rose Manor and hand it personally to Lady Sylvia. Tell her it is a gift from me. You may choose a Guard from Rose Manor to lead the way. After you complete the mission, rejoin the convoy and report back to me.”

“As you command, My lord.”

The Knight of the Household Department took the formula, called over two guards, and rode off in the opposite direction.

Catherine and Ariel showed no displeasure at Victor bypassing them to directly command a Knight of the Household Department; instead, their faces revealed a secret delight. Victor pulled Catherine back into his embrace and said with a smile, “I have mastered the Surge talent.”

Catherine covered her mouth, her eyes filled with delighted admiration. Countess Ariel’s gaze sharpened. She sat up straight, nodded, and said, “My apologies, I must excuse myself for a moment.”

She slipped out from behind the curtain, put on her high-heeled shoes, pushed open the carriage door, and jumped directly from the moving vehicle. Not long after, Victor heard the flapping of a messenger raven’s wings.

Ariel was undoubtedly reporting to Aerie Fortress about Victor mastering the Surge talent. The reply from Aerie Fortress was what was truly worth waiting for.

The little Baron’s father had a weak bloodline. For the Aerie Fortress Wizard to be able to awaken the Moon Elf bloodline in his son was proof enough that his magical potions could enhance the bloodline of a fetus. Victor was now just a step away from a Gold Bloodline. If his deductions were correct, Catherine could give birth to an heir with a Gold Bloodline right now.

Victor’s mood soared. He pressed the petite and exquisite Her Majesty the Queen Mother down onto the soft bearskin couch and whispered with a low laugh, “Darling, let’s have another kiss.”

The two embraced intimately, kissing with deep passion. As Catherine’s soft, long hair brushed against Victor’s fingertips, a sudden tremor went through his heart, and he recalled Roland’s parting words:

Be good to Catherine.

Roland’s mother died young, and the little Baron’s mother also died young. Did this mean that using magical potions to enhance a fetus’s bloodline was very harmful to the mother?

Victor gazed at the fine beads of sweat on the tip of Catherine’s nose, at her face, made all the more radiant by her blush, and at her eyes, as hazy as spring water. His heart gradually softened.

“My dear, what’s wrong?” Catherine blinked her beautiful eyes and buried her flushed face in Victor’s chest. Her beloved’s affectionate gaze made her feel both shy and sweet.

How long has it been since you circulated your Aura… Victor opened his mouth, but the words remained unspoken. He held Catherine’s boneless, pliant body and said calmly, “My dear, I will not harm you, nor will I let anyone else harm you.”

Catherine was silent for a moment before saying softly:

“My Highness, I have no doubt about that.”

For the rest of the journey, Victor and Catherine were inseparable during the day, sharing an intimate and seamless bond, but they returned to their own carriages to rest at night. Catherine’s face constantly glowed with a radiance that was hard to look at directly. The accompanying Father Dayn dared not associate this bright, beautiful, and cheerful belle with the graceful and noble Queen Mother of Gambis.

He could only sigh in silent admiration. Viscount Randell’s charm was irresistible… at least, to a silver female knight.

Ten days later, the convoy arrived at a small town in the north of Gambis. The entire group rested in the town for half a day. After replenishing their supplies, the convoy prepared to continue their journey.

Father Dayn hurried back from the town’s Church, found Victor, and brandished the sheepskin letter in his hand, blurting out:

“The Church has announced that twenty-five days ago, the combined forces of the Radiant Knights and the Sasan Empire killed the Legendary Centaur, Great Khan Orogar, in the Barreto Valley of the Northern Wildlands!”

Then, he lowered his voice. “Victor, Tutor Clement asked me to tell you that he hopes you can make it to the Royal Capital of Naville by the first month of the Season of Earth next year.” After speaking, Dayn looked at Victor expectantly, still hoping to regain the Pontiff’s favor through this.

Victor patted his shoulder, took the letter, and smiled. “I won’t make things difficult for you… I will certainly arrive at the Royal Capital of Naville before the end of the first month next year.”

“Excellent! I’ll go arrange for the convoy to depart immediately!” Father Dayn was overjoyed and turned to run back to the convoy.

Soon, the convoy was on the road again. Victor gazed at the scenery outside the window and asked faintly, “Why does the Pontiff want me to arrive at the Royal Capital of Naville early?”

“The Radiant Knights have done something earth-shattering… They currently hold the initiative in pioneering the wilds. I’m afraid Naville and Dodor can no longer sit still.”

Catherine put down the Church’s announcement letter and sighed, shaking her head. “If I were the King of Naville, I would issue a Call to Arms, mobilize the lords, and dispatch troops to Giantstone Fortress to begin pioneering the Northern Wildlands ahead of schedule. But that would not be wise!”

“You’re right.”

Victor turned his head and nodded. “The prestige the Radiant Knights gain from killing the Great Khan of the Blackhoof is secondary, and the benefits of pioneering the Northern Wildlands are not the priority. The key is that the Sasan Empire now holds The Initiative in the centaur war. They can pull back their lines and let the centaur tribes fight amongst themselves, or they can take the offensive, escalate the war, and use that as a pretext to call upon the Church’s clergy… Naville’s and Dodor’s clergy would bear the brunt of it!”

“Once Dodor makes a move on the Ghost Forest, Naville will have to follow suit, and then they’ll be led by the nose by the Sasan Empire.”

Catherine continued, “Therefore, I would not issue a Call to Arms. I would host a grand evening banquet to shift the lords’ attention to Viscount Randell, and then do my best to appease the restless, war-hungry sentiment in the country.”

“Her Majesty is wise.”

Victor took Catherine’s slender hand. She lifted her chin and smiled slightly. “Lord Randell, are you praising your lover or flattering the Queen Mother?”

“Aren’t they one and the same?”

Seeing the two flirting with their eyes and trading playful banter, Countess Ariel couldn’t help but interject, “Victor, do we really need to help the Kingdom of Naville stabilize the situation?”

“And why not?”

Victor’s eyes, as deep as the night sky, made Ariel feel an intangible pressure. The wise gnomes’ assessment of him involuntarily came to mind:

Viscount Randell’s talents can be compared to those of Noblewoman Arya. The New Agro-husbandry and tenant system he created will define an era. However, the purpose behind his various actions… is unknown… and cannot be fathomed.

“I know what you’re worried about.” The sharpness in Victor’s eyes softened as he chuckled. “The Radiant Knights and the Sasan Empire want to drag Naville into the fray. If I disrupt their plan, the Radiant Knights might take their anger out on Gambis by drawing clergy from here. However, the truth is quite the opposite. The Pontiff would rather draw clergy from Gambis than see Naville become the Radiant Knights’ second vassal. If the Curia really does draw clergy from Gambis, Patriarch Tamor and Clement will fall out… which is exactly what the Radiant Knights want.”

“By stabilizing Naville, Clement and Tamor might be able to join forces to resist the ambitions of the Radiant Knights. Conversely, if Naville’s army marches into the Northern Wildlands, the scale of the war will expand, and the risks will grow with it. If something happens to Naville, can we in Gambis just sit by and watch? Our kingdom’s army would have to march to Giantstone Fortress to shield Naville from the beastmen. Our southern expansion strategy would be essentially over.”

“The Sasan Empire just defeated the Blackhoof Centaurs. The Sasan lords’ desire for war and expansion is at its peak. If you add Naville’s army to the mix, the Sasan Emperor and Grand Commander Testier will find it very difficult to control the pioneer war. I don’t mind helping them cool down a bit…”

Victor shrugged and said with a raised eyebrow, “In any case, we are fighting the Fishman War. How we fight it, and what the outcome is, is for us to decide. No one should even think about drawing clergy from Gambis.”

Catherine’s left hand was intertwined with Victor’s. Her right hand supported her cheek as she stared at his face without blinking, the corners of her mouth turned up in a heart-stoppingly sweet smile.

Victor smiled back. “My dear, reaching Naville within three months won’t be easy, especially in the month of Snow.”

Catherine giggled and said without turning her head, “Countess Ariel, please draft a decree for me, ordering the prefects of the northern provinces to dispatch men to clear the snow and repair the roads, ensuring Lord Randell’s carriage can pass unimpeded.”

Ariel lowered her eyes and replied meekly, “As you command, Her Majesty.”

Chapter 504: Arrival

On the 11th day of the 13th month of Radiant Year 7571, Howard Testier, commander of the Radiant Knights; Storch Testier, vice-commander; Tournans, Chief of the Templars; and Patriarch Frieders of the Curia slew Orogar, the Great Khan of the Black-hoof Centaurs, in Barreto Valley.

Thus, after seven years of bloody battle, the allied forces of the Sasan Empire and the Church finally defeated the most powerful Centaur tribe in the Empire’s eastern territories, nipping a terrible threat in the bud.

This was a glorious victory worthy of being recorded in the annals of history!

The Church planned to wait until the following spring to organize a celebratory tour that would span the kingdoms, displaying the head and hide of the legendary Centaur to the faithful in every diocese to proclaim the great achievements of the clergy and the Knight-Nobles. But the news of the Paladins’ triumphant return seemed to grow wings, flying over the snow-filled Season of Water, and had already spread to every town and city in the human kingdoms.

Bards, song and dance troupes, and wandering performers in every town learned the details of the Battle of Barreto from the local churches and caravans. Under the guidance of the church fathers, they adapted the heroic deeds of the clergy and the Knight-Nobles into poems and plays, which they then performed for the townspeople.

During the rainy and snowy season, the well-to-do townspeople were particularly fond of the plays and poetic performances of the song and dance troupes. They were not expensive, yet they broadened one’s horizons, distinguishing them from the ignorant country folk. While the content performed by each troupe varied, the source material was the same: the clergy and knights battling brutal beastmen, with some tear-jerking, blood-pumping subplots of love or revenge added in. Of course, the trope of the hero reclaiming fertile lands was also a must.

This was what the audiences loved to see.

The Radiant Knights and the Sasan Empire’s allied forces crushing the Black-hoof Centaur tribe became the most popular and inspiring topic of the day.

The Titled nobles of the various kingdoms had little enthusiasm for watching new plays; this was, after all, a propaganda tool for the Church to harvest faith. They had long since received detailed battle reports from the Church, and the reality was far more solemn and grim than any exaggerated theatrical performance. Benedict, the vice-commander of the Radiant Knights, had fallen; five Silver Knights and thirty-one high-ranking clergy had died heroically; tens of thousands of soldiers and initial-rank clergy had perished on the battlefield. Even Patriarch Frieders had lost three sons and a daughter in the war.

It was a victory forged in blood and life, but that was not the focus of the great nobles’ attention.

Although the war was not yet over, its nature had changed. The Sasan Empire’s overall strategy shifted from a defensive posture to an offensive expansion.

The Radiant Knights and the Sasan Empire seemed to have raised the curtain on a new era, taking the lead in the pioneer war.

The Sasan imperial family began granting fiefs in the Northern Wildlands, with the total area of the first batch exceeding one hundred and forty thousand square kilometers. The Radiant Knights publicly announced that the second stop of the legendary Centaur head’s tour would be Naville, scheduled for the third month of Radiant Year 7572.

When the news spread, the Titled nobles of Naville were instantly in an uproar. The south-central lords, whose fiefs were barren, were particularly eager, rubbing their hands in anticipation. The proposal to pioneer the Northern Wildlands was formally placed on the table of the House of Nobles. Once the House of Nobles passed the pioneering proposal, the Senate would have to vote on it.

However, the Kingdom of Naville was not yet ready, and the senatorial families were unwilling to act as a shield for the Sasan Empire’s expansion into new territories. Faced with the questioning voices of the south-central lords, King Rex was at his wit’s end. One day he would meet with this viscount, the next he would dine with that earl, and after placating the viscounts and earls, a few baron lords would pop up.

In truth, the south-central lords were not ignorant of the bigger picture. It was just that the Radiant Knights’ propaganda campaign had taken effect, and the lords, pressured by their vassals and liege’s subjects, had to demand an explanation and some benefits from the King to answer to their people.

On the 34th day of the 1st month of Radiant Year 7572, the tumultuous Kingdom of Naville welcomed the creator of the New Agro-husbandry and the tenant system—Viscount Randell of the Kingdom of Gambia.

“Cousin Victor, what do you think of my Korgeston?”

The King of Naville, riding a well-built, pure black Woldan purebred horse, asked spiritedly, gesturing with his riding crop. He wore a set of magnificent, eye-catching ceremonial armor. He was tall and sturdy, with bronze skin, brown hair, and the amber eyes unique to an Earth Knight. On his cheeks was a full beard, rare for a High-ranked Knight, which made him look rugged, valiant, and dashing.

Victor had no idea how this rugged and boisterous fellow had become his cousin. In any case, after the King of Naville personally led a party to welcome Victor’s carriage and they had exchanged salutations, he began addressing Victor as his younger cousin.

Apparently, one of his most favored court ladies was a Moon Elf noblewoman from the Wimbledon family. According to the records of heraldry, he was indeed Victor’s cousin-in-law.

The King of Naville was grand in his etiquette, cordial and warm. Victor, however, did not lose his composure, saying with sincerity, “Your Majesty, Korgeston has nearly blinded me.”

This was spoken from the heart. Rex had pointed at the purple-gold great bell of the Korgeston Church with his gold-threaded riding crop, and the sight had nearly blinded Victor.

Based on the size and luster of the purple-gold bell, Victor estimated that it weighed at least seven tons. It was cast from gold and Adamantine, with an Adamantine ratio of three parts per thousand, totaling about forty-six pounds of Adamantine… alright, this bell was worth ten million Gold Sols. The House of Randell earns one hundred thousand Gold Sols a year; saving for a full hundred years would amount to roughly that sum.

Rex was quite pleased. He laughed heartily and rode alongside Victor, chatting and laughing.

It was early spring; the ice and snow were melting, and the weather was warming up. The main road was lined with crowds of brightly dressed people. The first two rows were almost entirely filled with noblewomen of Naville. When Victor and Rex’s procession approached, some of the young and beautiful noblewomen took colorful petals from their handmaidens’ baskets and tossed them at the procession. However, most of the petals landed on Victor’s side, making the King of Naville seem almost like his foil.

This was treatment Victor had never received even in the Royal Capital of Gambis.

Korgeston might not be the largest royal capital in the human kingdoms, but it was certainly the city with the highest concentration of Knight-Nobles. In Naville, almost all lords with the rank of Baron or higher had a residence in Korgeston, and their children and relatives saw their king often. Compared to the children of nobles in other kingdoms, they had less awe and more familiarity for their king, His Majesty Rex. Even if a knightly lady of Naville rolled her eyes at him in public, Rex would only smile and turn aside, allowing more petals to fall upon Victor.

Victor kept his eyes forward, a faint, perfectly measured smile on his lips—neither cold nor overtly warm. He heard the sound of a curtain being drawn in the carriage behind him; Catherine was likely sitting inside, grinding her teeth in secret.

And so, with hooves treading on petals, Viscount Randell’s procession arrived at the entrance of the Korgeston Cathedral.

Rex leaped from his mount and very gentlemanly helped the Queen Mother of Gambis alight from her carriage. With one hand on King Rex’s left arm and the other holding her skirt, Catherine gracefully glided to Victor’s side. She naturally reached out to brush an orchid petal from her lover’s shoulder and then smoothly took his arm, turning to give Rex a smiling nod.

“Your Majesty, the hospitality of the people of Naville has left a deep impression on me.”

Rex, though outwardly coarse, was inwardly shrewd. He naturally understood the source of the Queen Mother of Gambis’s defensiveness, but to this day, he still didn’t know what etiquette to use when receiving Catherine Auguste. In the end, he decided to adopt the tradition of High-ranked Knights and simply treat Catherine as his cousin Victor’s lover. He gave her a Knight’s salute.

“Haha, the people of Naville have always been as passionate as fire… Ahem, Cousin Victor, Lady Catherine, you should go into the church to pray. I shall take my leave for now… Tonight, Shatia and I will be hosting a welcoming banquet at Boulderhold to welcome you both. Enchino and Louisa will serve as your Liaison Officers in Naville.”

Two young attendant knights stepped past Rex and saluted Victor and Catherine respectively.

Enchino was nineteen, an initial-rank knight. He had delicate features, with hair and eyes of a dark brown. According to Rex’s earlier introduction, he was the nephew of that Moon Elf court lady, which also made him Victor’s nephew.

Louisa was twenty-five, an experienced female knight from a renowned Naville family. She held the title of Court Baron and was a Court Lady to Queen Shatia Rex. She had blonde hair and blue eyes, an elegant and serene disposition, and a figure and appearance that stood out even among female knights. Moreover, she was not yet married.

The people of Naville were indeed very enthusiastic.

Victor first nodded to the two Liaison Officers, then returned a Knight’s salute to Rex. Catherine also curtsied. Rex nodded to Father Dayn, Master Edwin, and Countess Ariel, who had caught up, then mounted his Woldan purebred horse and led his procession toward the royal palace.

Catherine’s eyes flickered, and she said with a smile, “Louisa, you will be my Liaison Officer. Enchino, you will attend Lord Randal.”

“As you wish, my esteemed lady,” the two attendant knights replied in unison.

“My dear, let’s go in,” Catherine said, taking Victor’s arm and leading the group into the magnificent Korgeston Cathedral.

Archbishop Vispucci of Naville personally presided over a prayer ceremony for Victor and Catherine and wrote a formal record of their visit.

Having completed the official registration, Victor donated an offering of five thousand Gold Sols to the Korgeston Cathedral. The Archbishop of Naville, however, did not exchange many pleasantries with Victor, merely asking Father Dayn to stay behind.

One was Clement’s close friend from his student days, the other was Clement’s direct disciple. They had much to discuss that was not convenient to say in front of outsiders. Even if Archbishop Vispucci had matters to attend to, he would have to relay them to Victor through Dayn.

In truth, Victor’s status was special, but he was, after all, just a minor viscount lord. For King Rex to condescend to personally greet Victor’s carriage outside the city and organize the children of the capital’s nobles to line the streets was already an extraordinary courtesy. Behind this courtesy lay the internal conflicts of the Church. But no matter how dissatisfied Archbishop Vispucci was with the Radiant Knights, he couldn’t let Victor witness the Church making a fool of itself.

In fact, Victor had been continuously receiving information from various sources during his journey. The prefects of the northern counties of Gambis had organized men to repair roads and bridges, clear snow, and lay down dry straw to clear the way for Victor’s convoy. They had also presented the latest intelligence for the Queen Mother to review. Catherine not only read these letters to her lover but also analyzed and annotated them for him.

Currently, Clement and Tamor remained silent. Within the Holy See, only Frieders’s voice was being heard, but the bishops of the various dioceses had differing opinions on the Radiant Knights’ next moves. And Vispucci of Naville was the first Archbishop to speak out publicly, expressing his concerns about the Radiant Knights’ aggressive war strategy. He believed that the Sasan Empire’s policy of relocating refugees to the Northern Wildlands was rash and reckless, and suggested that the Radiant Knights and the Sasan Empire adopt a conservative strategy: watch the Centaur tribes fight amongst themselves, train new recruits, and allow the lords’ armies and the Temple Army to recover before making plans to pioneer the Northern Wildlands.

Vispucci was staking his political life on this. Because his words flew in the face of the facts.

The Sasan Empire had millions of registered subjects, more than half of whom had received standard military training. Its war potential was enormous. The Imperial army had been maintained at a scale of one hundred thousand men only due to limitations in high-quality equipment. Although the Sasan lords had lost tens of thousands of cavalry in the seven-year war, with the Dodor Kingdom lifting its restrictions on arms exports, the Sasan Empire had raised another one hundred and fifty thousand elite cavalry. Moreover, Sasan’s vassal soldiers, having been dispatched in rotations, were baptized by fire and had accumulated rich real combat experience. Their combat proficiency was generally higher than that of the vassal soldiers of the southern kingdoms.

This war, far from crippling the Sasan Empire, had actually made them stronger with each battle. Riding the tide of a great victory, the Sasan Emperor was rewarding merit and granting lands. The empire’s lords were unprecedentedly united, army morale was high, and the populace was gazing at the fertile Northern Wildlands with eager anticipation.

At a time like this, to ask the Sasan Empire to adopt a conservative strategy—would the Feliett imperial family give up the opportunity to consolidate its power? Would the empire’s lords agree? Would the empire’s vassal soldiers agree? What would the people of the empire think? If the Feliett Emperor dared to provoke public outrage, the Baselius family would absolutely move to re-establish the Iron Mountain Empire!

Therefore, Vispucci was severely reprimanded by Patriarch Frieders. Once the Sasan Empire expanded eastward, built fortresses, established a first line of defense, and gained a firm foothold in the Northern Wildlands, Archbishop Vispucci could only retire.

He had no chance of winning. It was a matter of three to five years at most.

Vispucci knew he was playing with fire, but he had no choice. He had been strong-armed by the Kingdom of Naville.

There were reports that after Clement returned to the Holy See, Rex went to the Korgeston Cathedral every day to chat with the Archbishop. Shortly thereafter, Vispucci publicly criticized the Sasan Empire’s aggressive strategy, and the talk of sending troops to the Northern Wildlands in Korgeston’s noble circles quieted down considerably.

In reality, the Radiant Knights’ goal was clear: they wanted to turn the Kingdom of Naville into their second vassal. Once the Kingdom of Naville joined the Paladin Faction, the Radiant Knights would, externally, consolidate the forces for pioneering the Northern Wildlands, and internally, dismantle the alliance of the three southern kingdoms. Without Naville’s support, the Dodor Kingdom would have no choice but to side with the Radiant Knights. From then on, the Sasan Empire would have no worries about its rear, and could join forces with the two great kingdoms of Naville and Dodor to launch a full-scale northern expedition to reclaim the territories of the Northern Wildlands. The six Paladin families would once again control the authority of the Radiant Church.

The question was, could the Radiant Knights treat everyone equally?

If the Radiant Knights granted Naville and the Sasan Empire equal status, the lords of Naville would be more than happy to join the Paladin Faction. But that was absolutely impossible!

In the eyes of the Radiant Knights, the eastern lords of the Empire led by the Feliett family came first, the central lords of the Empire led by the Moon Bear family came second, and the western lords of the Empire led by the Baselius family came third. If Naville were to align with the Radiant Knights now, it could only be placed at the very end.

Could the support Frieders offered Naville compare to the support from Clement?

Rex’s only choice was to help Clement through this difficult time. The specific method was to first unify the voices within, swiftly push forward with the construction of water projects to get the hundreds of thousands of refugees to work, and keep all of Clement’s clergy here.

This required using Viscount Randell’s authority in the fields of water projects and New Agro-husbandry to persuade the lords and vassals of Naville.

In short, even if Victor were to just casually draw a few circles on a map, Rex could get Naville back on track according to his will. As for Vispucci, it didn’t matter if he fell from power; Clement would promote his own disciple to the position of Archbishop of Naville.

Victor was more than happy to help Rex. Although it would offend the Radiant Knights, he couldn’t care less.

The Ant-man army had ravaged the Centaur Hills for so long, nearly uprooting all of the Purple Cane in the Randell Fief. The York family’s Fanged Legion had suffered heavy casualties, yet the Radiant Knights had never sent the Temple Army to support them. Victor and Sylvia had held a grudge about this ever since.

Now, with a chance to disrupt the Radiant Knights’ plans, Victor could finally vent some of that old pent-up frustration.

Of course, Victor’s journey of thousands of kilometers to Naville to help Clement break the deadlock was not just about venting his own anger.

The Sasan Empire followed closely at the heels of the Radiant Knights, the Paladin families wanted to win over the Kingdom of Naville, but Naville insisted on clinging to Clement’s coattails… this interesting phenomenon revealed the essence of the problem:

The Church exploited the disunity of the lords, playing all sides to manipulate secular politics; the Knight-Nobles used the Radiant Code’s constraints on the clergy to obtain the extraordinary power of divine arts.

Whoever could mobilize the Church’s divine arts could rise to prominence. Every lord wanted to strengthen their influence over the Church, and Victor was no exception. Therefore, he had to accelerate the promotion of the tenant system in Naville. This would not only help Clement stabilize the situation but also allow Victor to establish a new political initiative within the Church, thereby expanding the influence of the Pope’s faction and attracting a large number of clergy.

As Clement walked the path Victor had laid out for him, he would soon encounter the indispensable Golden Company. With both sides interdependent and cooperating closely, the House of Randell would naturally become more important to Clement than the Kingdom of Naville. Because the Golden Company’s focus was on the entire human realm, not just a single kingdom.

Victor thought it through very clearly. He had three objectives to achieve in the Kingdom of Naville: inspect the suspected Alchemy Tower, promote the tenant system, and design the water project system for Naville.

Leaving the great cathedral, Victor took a parchment scroll from his pocket and handed it to the liaison officer arranged by Rex. “Your Excellency Enchino, please deliver this letter to His Majesty Rex.”

The attendant knight took the letter, saluted, then turned, mounted his horse, and galloped towards the royal palace.

“My dear, what did you give him?” Catherine walked up, took Victor’s arm, and asked curiously.

“A small suggestion regarding the Evening Banquet… You’ll find out then.”

Victor gave a mysterious smile, then turned to Master Edwin and asked, “Uncle Edwin, where will we be staying?”

As a great scholar from the Silver Spire, Master Edwin was serving as the chief designer for the Kingdom of Naville’s water projects. It had been nearly three years since he and Victor had parted. His hair had grown a little whiter, but his spirits were high. Facing Catherine, he said respectfully, “Your Majesty, what are your intentions?”

“Master Edwin, wherever Victor stays, I will stay,” Catherine said with a radiant smile.

The concept of embassies did not yet exist between the kingdoms, but the great families generally had marriage ties in each kingdom. Those without were minor families not worthy of consideration, and they could only rent rooms in noble inns.

The House of Auguste and the House of Rex had an exchange of children, so Catherine could have stayed at Boulderhold, but she preferred to respect Victor’s opinion.

Edwin nodded. “In that case, please follow me to the residence of Countess Dori de Keiser. I have been staying there all this time.”

Countess Dori de Keiser? Dori? She was the birth mother of the brothers Enbise and Fredrick, Master Edwin’s cousin-in-law, and the Family Guardian who had been driven away by the old Duke York because of Sylvia… It was fine for Edwin to stay at her residence, but if she decided to take revenge on Sylvia by deliberately embarrassing me, it would be utterly humiliating… Victor froze for a moment, then forced himself to say, “I was just thinking of paying a visit to Lady Dori…”

Catherine pursed her lips and smiled. “Lady Dori is Angelina’s grandmother. I should indeed pay her a visit.”

Huh, I almost forgot, I’m still Angelina’s guardian… Heh, such complicated family ties, even the X-3 is no use… Victor sighed in relief, patted Catherine’s delicate hand, and smiled.

“My dear, you are absolutely right. Let’s go and pay our respects to Countess de Keiser.”

Chapter 505: A Secret Invitation

Countess Dekeizer’s residence was not in the Nobles’ District of Korgeston, but rather in a corner of the outer city’s western agricultural and pastoral district.

The Nobles’ District of Naville’s Royal Capital was overcrowded, the area within the inner city’s high walls packed with the residences of powerful and prestigious families. The Dekeizers were a new family and had not yet earned the right to occupy a place in the Nobles’ District. In fact, most of Naville’s nobles lived in the outer district. They longed to build their own villas in the Royal Capital’s agricultural zone, but this required the Royal Family’s approval. Considering that Lady Dori had only recently founded the Dekeizer family, her ability to claim territory and build a residence in the highly sought-after agricultural zone was a testament to her connections and capabilities.

The location of the Countess’s residence was a bit remote, but it boasted a beautiful environment and ample space. It covered an area of nearly three hundred mu, surrounded by fruit trees whose new buds were just sprouting. Within its walls were several detached villas, as well as stables, barracks, storehouses, and gardens—a complete noble manor.

Master Edwin’s choice to stay at the Dekeizer residence was a sensible one; at the very least, Victor didn’t have to worry about lodging for his retinue of several hundred people.

Outside the main residence, which resembled a small castle, the Countess and her household attendants had been waiting for some time.

She wore a purple court dress. Her skin was as fair as jade, her golden hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her eyes were a verdant green. Her features were as exquisite as a classical sculpture, with a smooth, high forehead and slender, straight eyebrows that were like sharp swords. Below her high-bridged nose were full, pursed red lips. Combined with her tall, well-proportioned figure, she left a profound impression of nobility and majesty.

The aura exuded by Countess Dekeizer was one Victor had seen before in Duchess Wellington.

Beauty, pride, cold elegance, determination, and an unquestionable dominance.

They had many things in common: both were noblewomen from distinguished families, both were high-ranking female knights, both were Family Guardians, and both had a Gold Knight lover… He just didn’t know what they were like in the presence of their Gold Knight lovers.

A strange thought suddenly popped into Victor’s head, and right after, he saw Lady Dori’s icy demeanor melt away, replaced by the warmth of a spring blossom.

“Your Majesty, your arrival is the greatest honor for the Dekeizer family.” Lady Dori’s tightly pursed lips curved into an elegant and moving smile. She lifted her skirts and curtsied to Catherine.

“Lady Dori, please call me Catherine.”

Catherine stepped forward and, smiling, took the Countess’s hand to help her up. She spoke with a natural and poised grace, “I am accompanying my lover on a visit to the Kingdom of Naville in a private capacity, not as the Queen Mother of Gambis. In fact, when we return to our kingdom, I will be receiving the title of Duchess of Aerie Fortress.”

“Come, let me introduce you.” Catherine took the Countess’s arm and gestured towards Victor, saying, “This is my lover, Victor, Viscount Randell.”

Dori’s gaze lingered on Victor’s face for a moment before she lowered her eyes, curtsied slightly, and extended her left hand to him.

Victor stepped forward, took her fair, slender hand, and placed a light kiss on her delicate index finger. He offered a respectful and formulaic praise, “Countess Dekeizer, may your beauty be everlasting and your youth eternal.”

“Victor, make yourself at home,” Lady Dori said with a smile, her tone that of an elder.

Catherine was greatly pleased and turned gracefully to take Victor’s arm. Lady Dori’s gaze shifted to Countess Ariel, and she smiled, “Ariel, it’s been a long time.”

“I am delighted to see you again, my esteemed lady.”

The two women shared a light embrace. Dori beckoned to someone behind her. “Let me introduce you all. This is Baron Robert Dekeizer. He comes from the Mackenzy family of Sus and is now my husband.”

A young noble Knight stepped forward and gave a Knight’s salute, greeting everyone in turn. He was about twenty years old, with red hair and brown eyes, a handsome face, and a tall, slender physique. He carried himself with a dashing but slightly shy and quiet gentlemanly conduct, possessing a gentle and elegant temperament.

Victor saw a shadow of the little Baron in him, though the little Baron was not a Knight. It was commonplace for high-ranking female knights to cultivate Knight lovers, but perhaps only male knights from the Kingdom of Sus possessed such a tranquil and gentle quality.

“The Mackenzy family?” Catherine mulled it over for a moment, sized him up slightly, and asked with a smile, “What is Duke Redhawk to you?”

Robert glanced at Lady Dori before bowing and replying, “Duke Redhawk is my distant maternal great-grandfather. My maternal grandfather is the Duke’s paternal cousin’s son, Earl Clark Mackenzy. My mother is Earl Mackenzy’s youngest daughter, Baroness Shaniya Florence.”

Lady Dori took her little husband’s arm and explained with a smile, “Robert was fostered in the Mackenzy family since childhood, but he is a noble of Dodor.”

“My apologies,” Catherine said, withdrawing her scrutinizing gaze and nodding lightly.

“Let’s talk inside.”

Dori nodded, released Robert’s arm, and placed her slender hand on his shoulder, giving a command that was both affectionate and implicitly firm. “My dear, go and assist Master Edwin in arranging lodging for our guests’ retinue.”

“As you wish, My Lady,” Robert replied respectfully. He turned and gestured for Master Edwin to follow him out of the manor’s gates.

Victor suddenly felt a pang of sympathy for Lady Dori’s little husband. Sylvia never ordered him about so bossily, to say nothing of his other lovers. Even the stubborn Sophia, when she was with the little Baron, acted as both a wife and an older sister, as gentle and alluring as water.

He even started to miss that naturally charming, purple-eyed beauty.

Following Lady Dori into the lord’s residence and bypassing the lavishly decorated waiting hall, Victor arrived in a spacious and bright reception hall.

The decorative style of the great hall was markedly different from the opulent front hall, leaning closer to the Gambis style of “luxury hidden in understatement.”

Exquisite and unique murals, sculptures, and harps replaced the coarse and ostentatious beast specimens and displays of swords and armor. The floor was laid with hundred-year-old paulownia wood from the Twilight Forest, its dark, heavy tones setting off a mirror-like surface. Nobles of Naville, by contrast, generally preferred expensive and dazzling white-glazed rock tiles.

However, a Naville-style luxurious ostentation was still hidden here. For example, Naville nobles were accustomed to using golden candelabras and would not hesitate to mock others for their silver ones. But in the great hall of the Dekeizer residence stood over a hundred seemingly simple red copper candelabras. They faintly shimmered with a purple luster, clearly alloyed with a certain amount of Adamantine.

That’s right, there were no golden candelabras in Lady Dori’s parlor; she used Adamantine to make them directly.

Victor could almost imagine Naville nobles visiting the manor, selectively ignoring these candelabras, and then pretentiously critiquing the murals. Following that, Lady Dori would casually correct the errors in her guests’ remarks, subtly mocking their shallow understanding of art.

Whether they were close or not, nobles from Gambis would never embarrass their guests. In Naville, however, the closer you were, the more likely they were to put you in an awkward position.

Mutual mockery and teasing were a Naville way of expressing warmth and trust.

Everyone sat down according to their status as host and guest. Several handmaidens approached the sofa tables with silver platters, serving each person drinks, refreshments, and a ceramic water jug.

“This is a specialty product of Naville—fruit vinegar. The taste is very unique.”

Lady Dori lifted her silver cup, took a light sip, and raised her beautiful jade hands in a gesture. “Please, share your thoughts.”

Countess Ariel raised her cup, drained it in one go, and savored the aftertaste for a moment before nodding with a smile. “It lives up to its reputation… The taste is certainly unique, but I’m not quite used to it.”

“Thank you, I won’t have any.”

Catherine refused without hesitation. She turned to Victor, her expression serious as she advised, “My love, I suggest you taste this with caution… Perhaps you could dilute it with some water first.”

The beverage in the cup was a murky green. Victor merely took a sniff, and his mouth began to water uncontrollably. It was said that Naville’s fruit vinegar was sour to the extreme, a drink used specially by high-ranked knights to regulate their body and mind and to strengthen their mundane instincts.

Victor had never tried it… but it certainly looked delicious.

Under Catherine’s worried and sympathetic gaze, Victor took a tiny sip. His face remained expressionless as he took the ceramic jug from Catherine’s hands and gulped down fresh water.

The cool, sweet spring water diluted the sour taste in his mouth, but the acidity lingered, long and deep. A blush spread across Viscount Randell’s exquisitely handsome face, making him look quite “enchanting.”

He wasn’t embarrassed, just flushed from the sourness.

“A rich mouthfeel, a mellow flavor, with distinct layers… Alright, I can’t make this up anymore.”

Victor opened his eyes, shrugged his shoulders, and took another gulp of spring water. He wiped his mouth in a flustered manner and spat, “Damn it, this reminds me of the Green Wheat Ale the Sasan Empire brews especially for the barbarians… My love, are my teeth still there?”

Catherine snapped out of her daze from her lover’s ravishing beauty, let out a “pfft” of laughter, and then leaned on his shoulder, her flower branches shaking. Lady Dori and Countess Ariel couldn’t help but smile.

The joyful atmosphere brought about by the prank closed the distance between them. They chatted idly, speaking of Lady Dori’s two sons, Duke York and Viscount Fredrick, and her granddaughter, Angelina Blanstait Auguste, the future queen of Gambis. Dori even had a handmaiden bring her infant son to the parlor to meet the guests. Catherine held the chubby baby, unable to put him down. Victor also sincerely praised the Dekeizer family’s heir, still in his swaddling clothes.

After the little one’s excitement wore off, he began yawning nonstop and fell into a deep sleep. A handmaiden carried him back to his room. Just then, Countess Dekeizer’s old steward walked over, bowed, and said:

“My Lady, messengers from eleven families have just delivered invitations for Viscount Randell.”

“Leave them to me.”

Before Lady Dori could respond, Catherine stood up and took the initiative. “My love, you stay here and chat with Lady Dori. I’ll go set up our lodgings and make arrangements for the welcome banquet at Boulderhold.”

“Lady Dori, please excuse me.” Catherine nodded to the Countess, took the stack of gold-leaf invitations from the steward’s hands, and walked toward the door with Countess Ariel and Louisa. As she walked, she flipped through the invitations and said to the Liaison Officer from the King of Naville:

“Baroness Louisa, from now on, for any invitations for Lord Randal to be a guest or to meet, please politely decline all those from families below the rank of Earl. Give those from Earls and above to me. I will personally reply and tell them that Viscount Randell is busy with affairs and has no time to spare.”

“As you wish, my esteemed lady.”

In the parlor, Victor sat opposite the Countess. She waved her hand, and the surrounding attendants and guards quietly departed, but the old steward remained.

Lady Dori swept up her golden hair and asked with a smile, “Is Bruce doing well?”

“Bruce?” Victor suppressed his surprise and nodded. “Baron Bruce is a Silver Knight now, held in high regard by Duke York and My Lady Katerina. He commands a rich fiefdom of six thousand square kilometers, and he and his wife recently had a lovely daughter.”

Lady Dori nodded, then gestured to the old steward. “Let me introduce you. Lord Henry Dekeizer, Bruce’s Tutor, and also his wife’s father.”

Victor’s eyes narrowed as he carefully studied the old steward’s appearance. He was sturdily built with well-proportioned muscles, his back ramrod straight. His full head of silver hair concealed its original color, but his face was smooth and ruddy. His features and grey-green eyes did indeed resemble those of Baroness Bruce.

Victor withdrew his gaze and said thoughtfully, “As far as I know, Bruce’s Tutor is deceased.” He paused, then added, “He and the Baroness both believe so.”

“Henry York is dead… Henry Dekeizer is alive.” The old steward’s voice boomed with laughter. “I was right about that boy Bruce… Is he good to Ilisa?”

“Lady Ilisa has advanced to a Knight after taking a Vigor Potion… Bruce is a little afraid of her; he doesn’t even have a single personal handmaiden,” Victor said, diplomatically complimenting Bruce and his wife’s relationship.

“That’s good, that’s good…” The old steward’s face lit up with a smile, then it turned to a frown as he shook his head. “That’s not right of Ilisa. If a Silver Knight doesn’t have more offspring, how will the family grow stronger?”

“My lord, I would like to ask two things of you. Please persuade Ilisa to prioritize the family’s future. Also, please do not tell them that I am still alive. Let them think I am already dead.” The old steward bowed deeply.

Victor was silent for a moment before nodding in agreement. “Alright.”

“Thank you, my lord… My Lady, if there is nothing else, I will take my leave.” Lord Henry said to Lady Dori. Seeing her nod, he took a few steps back and turned to leave the parlor.

Only Dori and Victor were left in the spacious and bright hall. The Countess was the first to break the silence. “How is Audel?”

The person she actively cared about wasn’t either of her two sons, but Audel. Victor had long since noticed that Lady Dori’s appearance was strikingly similar to Audel’s—both had blonde hair and green eyes, with the same slender, straight eyebrows. The only difference was that Audel was full of charm, gentle to the bone, while Lady Dori was cold and majestic, noble and imposing. If one ignored the difference in their temperaments, the two would look like a pair of sisters standing together.

“You and Audel are…” Victor asked tentatively.

Lady Dori’s smile didn’t falter as she said lightly, “My mother was the paternal cousin of Audel’s grandfather. She married into Dodor… I also have the Blanstedt family’s bloodline. By that count, Audel is my distant cousin-niece.”

“Then… Lady Ulyana?”

“That’s a bit complicated. She calls my brother’s wife ‘Aunt’.”

Victor fell silent. He stared at the silver cup of fruit vinegar for a while, then looked up and asked, “I heard that My lord Countess is preparing to resonate with thirty-six Elemental Nodes and attempt to charge the Elemental Sea?”

Lady Dori’s smile vanished. She picked up the silver cup, took an elegant sip of the fruit vinegar, and nodded. “I do have that intention.”

Victor thought for a moment before speaking. “My wife, Sophia, should also be your cousin-niece. She rushed into the Elemental Sea ahead of schedule because of the Trial of Life and Death, and also resonated with thirty-six Elemental Nodes. Now she is a half-goldenized Raging Wave Knight. She has to constantly keep herself busy, constructing her own conviction, otherwise she faces the danger of Annihilation… A silver female knight can generally live to be a hundred and twenty years old. Lady Dori, you still have decades of youth ahead of you. Why be in such a hurry?”

“Thank you for your concern, Your Excellency.” Lady Dori set down her silver cup and smiled faintly. “All nobles from Sus can claim some kinship, so it’s not wrong to say Sophia is my cousin-niece. I envy Sophia’s beauty, but I admire her courage even more… It is true that silver female knights live longer than male Silver Knights, because they find spiritual solace in marriage and family. And it is for this very reason that the number of Gold female knights is far less than that of men.”

“The earlier one tries, the greater the chance of success.”

Victor fell silent for a moment, tracing the rose pattern on the silver cup. He sighed inwardly, a smile on his face as he asked nonchalantly, “My Lady, do you also like roses?”

The Countess smiled and nodded. “I founded the Rose Manor of the York family… It’s just that Sylvia likes roses more.”

The threads of the story were becoming clear. Duchess Wellington was actually a princess of the Auguste bloodline. The York family, long suppressed by Aerie Fortress, had seen their bloodline gradually decline. But they won Naville’s friendship in the war against the Sasan Empire and were able to draw on the Silver Bloodline of the Naville Royal Family to maintain their own Bronze Bloodline. Then came the old Duke York, who unexpectedly advanced to a Silver Knight. He and the Duchess had several outstanding children, thereby expanding the scope of their fostering and marriage alliances. Lady Dori, from a distinguished family, was exchanged into the York family.

She advanced to Knight, and first had Enbise with the young Duke York. She advanced to Silver Knight, and then had Fredrick with a certain Highness from Dodor. By this time, she was already the Guardian of the York family, diligently planning for the family’s future. She used the old Duke’s youngest daughter to get Ulyana as a wife for Terlanden. He had no idea what methods she used, but she also managed to lure Audel of the Blanstedt family to the York family to be Fredrick’s wife. In all this, her Gold Knight lover must have helped… And Sylvia was Audel’s dowry handmaiden, who often arranged flowers for Lady Dori at Rose Manor.

One could say that the current high-end martial power structure of the York family was single-handedly created by Lady Dori. But no one expected that Sylvia would turn out to be a Spirit Knight… The old Duke York demanded that Dori step aside, and she could only leave in sorrow. The Rose Knights loyal to Lady Dori also left the York family with their Guardian.

Dori had lived in the York family since childhood, making the protection of the family her knight’s conviction. Her sudden ousting from the York family was equivalent to severing her path as a Knight.

No wonder Master Edwin respected Lady Dori so much… But this grudge was quite a big one.

Victor was silent. Lady Dori seemed to see through his thoughts and shook her head with a smile. “It’s not what you think. The old Duke asking me to leave was also an act of care.”

“Oh, is that so?” Victor smiled, but he didn’t believe it.

Lady Dori sighed with emotion. “In the Battle of Whitewater Fortress, Sasan lost three Great Knights and Dodor lost two. They were all sacrifices for the Spirit Knight.”

The root of the conflict between Sasan and the three kingdoms was the Green Wheat War. Vassal soldiers on both sides suffered numerous casualties, but the core Knights of the families could generally be ransomed. In the Battle of Whitewater Fortress, Sasan broke their tacit understanding and killed the core Knights of several Dodor lords. Viscount Negus had no choice but to shoot and kill three Sasan Silver Knights, causing the war to escalate completely. All of Sasan’s Gold Knights mobilized, only to be crushed by Sylvia… revealing her identity as a Spirit Knight.

In reality, the Battle of Whitewater Fortress was aimed at Sylvia from the start. The high-ranked knights who fell on both sides were indeed sacrifices for the Spirit Knight.

“And His Majesty Ryan Auguste, the dukes of the three provinces, two high-ranked Swift Dragon Knights… Roland slaughtered a town in the Randt Imperial territory, killed two of Neowist’s Great Knights, crippled the Unicorn Knights, and even His Highness Adrian almost perished at her hands… Sylvia didn’t lift a finger, yet so many Knights died because of her.”

Lady Dori sighed faintly. “At first, I couldn’t accept the old Duke’s arrangement. It was only after all this happened that I understood his painstaking efforts. The old Duke understood my character. His advice for me to leave truly did protect me.”

“The old Duke was farsighted,” Victor agreed with a nod.

“Speaking of which, my achievements today are also largely thanks to Sylvia.” Lady Dori’s gaze swept over the Adamantine candelabras in the great hall as she smiled. “It was out of respect for her that the lords of Dodor enfeoffed me with a vast territory, one with two Adamantine mines.”

Victor smiled. “She probably… still did nothing at all.”

Lady Dori stared at Victor for a while, her gaze like rippling water, before she covered her mouth and laughed charmingly. The sudden display of alluring charm from the Countess made even Victor’s heart stir. In any case, his heart stirred often, but what Lady Dori said next was more than he could handle.

“Victor, you are truly outstanding. If I advance to Gold Knight, I would also court you.”

Heh, in your dreams. I have Catherine now… Victor thought smugly, but he still responded to the Countess’s praise according to the etiquette between Extraordinary Knights: “My Lady’s favor is my honor.”

Lady Dori studied Victor’s expression, raised a slender eyebrow, and said in a playfully pouty tone, “Lord Randell, it seems winning you over won’t be easy… and my ascension to Gold rank will be even harder.”

A light flickered in Victor’s eyes. He leaned back against the sofa and asked lightly, “How may I be of service to My Lady?”

Lady Dori reined in her charm and reverted to her cold, composed self. She said softly, “I have always pursued perfection in my work, but my territory is all mountains and forests, with only scattered valleys and no flat plains. The number of subjects I can support is very limited. Victor, you are an authority on water projects. Edwin holds your talents in the highest esteem. I hope Your Excellency can help me design a stream reservoir and a new agropastoral system.”

Victor considered this and said, “I am visiting Naville this time at the invitation of His Majesty Rex to redesign the water projects for the entire realm. This doesn’t seem to pose any difficulty.”

Lady Dori shook her head. “My territory is too remote and is not within the scope of the kingdom’s water project. I must trouble Your Excellency to personally survey my lands and create a separate design before I can build my own water project.”

“I see.” Victor nodded and asked, “Where is it located?”

“The southernmost part of the Dodor Kingdom, near… the Randt Imperial territory.”

Lady Dori said it as if it were a casual remark, but her beautiful eyes were fixed on the changes in Victor’s expression.

Victor’s deep, dark pupils contracted sharply, a glint of sharpness flashing through them. A cold, chilling vortex of air suddenly swirled through the parlor. Lady Dori instantly sat up straight, but as Victor blinked, the strange phenomenon subsided in an instant, as if nothing had happened. Viscount Randell was as beautiful as ever; the chilling severity of a moment ago seemed to have been an illusion.

“My Lady, I will take my leave for now. I shall see you at the banquet tonight.” Victor rose, bowed with impeccable manners, and turned to walk out of the parlor.

Lady Dori’s expression was grave as she watched Victor leave. Her body sank into the softness of the sofa. A long while later, a smile curved her lips.

“To think, he’s a Highness… No wonder Aerie Fortress keeps such a close watch on him.”

Chapter 506: Connections

The moment Lady Dori mentioned the Randt Imperial territory, Victor exposed his true strength.

This was of little consequence; a sharp awl will always poke through its pocket. To repair the Alchemy Tower and seek the support of divine arts, Victor had to step into the spotlight and openly support the Pope in his struggle against the Paladin families for influence within the Church. It was inevitable that he would draw attention.

Before coming to Naville, Victor had guessed the Radiant Knights might try to intervene, but he hadn’t expected Neowist to be the first to jump out, much less that Lady Dori would act as a middleman for Emperor Lant.

In truth, the conversation in the great hall had been perfectly normal; Lady Dori had given no hint that she was arranging a private meeting between them. Victor’s conclusion stemmed from the study of noble heraldry.

In the eyes of the Knight-Nobles, Bloodline is power, and family is the foundation. The two cannot be conflated.

In other words, family bonds, built upon the foundation of the house, are far more important than ties of blood.

Knights believe their birth is the will of the Elemental Sea, and ties of blood alone are not enough to push them to the pinnacle. Take Sylvia, for example. If she hadn’t been born into her birth family, she would have been born into another. Since her blood relatives gave her up, leaving the opportunity to other children, there was nothing to be attached to. On the other hand, the York family gave her the culmination of a thousand years of their heritage, which formed the basis for her conviction. If, hypothetically, Sylvia’s blood relatives had the ability and intent to destroy the York family, she would show them no mercy!

At first, Victor also found it difficult to accept the Extraordinary Knights’ view of kinship. However, the world of Earth was not much better. Even in ancient Imperial Huaxia, where filial piety was a supreme virtue, there were countless examples of royal relatives slaughtering one another.

On the surface, it was for personal gain—selfish and cruel—but in essence, it was for self-actualization, an unwillingness to compromise.

For instance, Emperor Wu wanted to pacify the Xiongnu, while the Crown Prince wanted a period of recovery and peace. If the Crown Prince had fully supported the Emperor’s policies, how could the two have fallen for a villain’s plot to sow discord between them? If the Emperor and the Crown Prince had been in lockstep, what villain would have thought to drive a wedge between father and son in hopes of a meteoric rise?

Knights, especially Extraordinary Knights, can easily satisfy their lower-level needs; what they pursue is self-actualization. These proud Knights revere family bonds, yet they make no secret of their indifference to ties of blood, openly and brazenly so.

However, Knights live far longer than mortals, and Extraordinary Knights are blessed with eternal youth. As Knight-Nobles are scattered across the lands, intermarriage inevitably creates ethical problems. Therefore, the primary purpose of heraldry, which records bloodlines and families, is to help nobles find their place within the knightly circle and avoid intermarriage between blood relatives within two generations. That is, the children of siblings cannot marry, but the third generation can.

Although heraldry itself does not concern itself with ties of blood, no one can ignore the diplomatic function it inherently serves.

When Catherine had asked about the relationship between Robert Dekeizer, the little Baron, and Duke Redhawk, Victor hadn’t paid it much mind at first. But when Lady Dori mentioned that her fief bordered the Randt Imperial territory, Victor was instantly on alert.

The House of Elayanuo had established the Kingdom of Sus with the support of the Randt Empire. The relationship between the Sus nobility and the Randt Imperial Family was complex and inseparable. The Mackenzie family, one of the six great houses of Sus, still had lingering ties to the Randt Imperial Family. The current Duke Redhawk’s cousin was married to a Highness named Adrian of the Randt Imperial territory, and the Duke’s distant great-grandson had become Lady Dori’s little husband. This meant that Baron Robert Dekeizer was a distant blood relative of Duchess Adrian.

Through this connection, the Neowist family could correspond with Lady Dori and establish diplomatic ties.

X-3’s powerful memory function made the complex field of heraldry simple and clear. Lady Dori would never have dreamed that the young Viscount Randell was so well-versed in such a tedious subject.

Victor had long wanted to control a port on the shores of Lake Fies, within the territories of the Theocracy of Ayr and the Randt Empire. This would open up a shipping route from the Centaur Hills to the Kingdom of Borea, and the House of Randell’s fleet could even reach the sea via this route. But the Radiant Knights, the Holy See’s Curia, and the Monastery Council of Elders had no incentive to build a port on Lake Fies. They would rather the Theocracy of Ayr remain as it was than allow King Nachtigal to seize the opportunity to cultivate pro-papal forces in Ayr.

The Randt Imperial territory had a pressing need to build a port, but Neowist had killed Ryan Auguste, forging a blood feud with Gambis.

Last year, the old Marquess Sorim had made a final bid to secure benefits for his family. He proposed to the Senate that the Chapman territory’s port be moved to the mouth of Lake Fies, but he was met with unanimous opposition from most of the senatorial families. Victor had prompted Sylvia to have Duke York cast the sole vote in favor.

This news must have reached Neowist’s ears. He likely wanted a private meeting with Victor to see if the York family might be able to mediate, allowing the two sides to reconcile, jointly deal with the Fishmen, and push forward the plan to build a port on Lake Fies.

Victor had supported the old Marquess Sorim’s proposal only to guide Neowist toward the idea of building a port in advance, but he was not prepared to meet with Neowist personally.

As a lord of the Kingdom of Gambia, he still had to maintain a basic political stance.

Viscount Randell could not be seen hobnobbing with Neowist. But The Golden Company could.

The Golden Company’s lifeline was actually in the hands of a few great lords, but its official status was that of a freemen merchants’ guild under the protection of the Holy See. No matter how naive Sophia was, she would never admit to being the leader of The Golden Company. Even if everyone knew the truth, there was nothing they could do about it.

Since The Golden Company was a neutral commercial organization under the Curia’s protection, its hiring of armed mercenaries was perfectly reasonable and legal. And the Randt Imperial territory simply lacked the strength to build a port on Lake Fies on its own.

Victor’s plan was that once the House of Randell’s fleet was launched, The Golden Company would negotiate with Neowist. With the Curia acting as guarantor, they would build a neutral port on the Randt Imperial territory’s shore of Lake Fies through a permanent lease.

A private meeting? What a joke. If you have the ability, build the port yourself. If not, just obediently collect your rent and don’t get any other ideas.

Lady Dori’s attempt to lure Victor to the remote Dekeizer territory for a secret meeting with Neowist filled him with rage.

Gambis’s comprehensive national strength was ten times greater than that of the Randt Imperial territory. Faced with the Glory Knights assembled by Roland, Adrian hadn’t dared to engage directly. He only emerged to fight after the Glory Knights had slaughtered the militia of an entire town, and he still nearly died at Roland’s hands. If not for the military pressure exerted by Dodor and Naville, and Nachtigal lurking in the shadows, eyeing Roland like a tiger, the Glory Knights, composed entirely of Knights, could have truly annihilated the empire’s Unicorn Knights.

The barefoot are not afraid of the shod. Since Neowist dared to snatch food from a tiger’s mouth, what else wouldn’t he dare to do?

Victor was unprepared, but Neowist was. If talks broke down, who knew what he would do? Victor’s bloodline was tied to the future political landscape of Gambis, giving Neowist ample reason to move against him and coerce Sylvia into cooperation. Even if Neowist didn’t dare to use force, if he let slip that the meeting had occurred, Victor would be in deep trouble.

However, family bonds were stronger than ties of blood. Compared to the Randt Imperial territory, Lady Dori had a closer relationship with the York family; she had no reason to plot against Victor. So what means did she have to control the situation?

Or rather, what power stood behind Lady Dori, one that could keep a Legendary Knight like Neowist in check?

No matter who they were, by daring to treat Victor as a pawn to be manipulated, they had made a very serious mistake.

The strong do not tolerate being slighted, and lords hate surprises. Victor had already learned to seize the initiative and control variables as much as possible. Lady Dori creating a so-called “chance encounter” by hiding the truth from him might have avoided many troubles, but even if her intentions were good, it was unacceptable!

Therefore, Victor didn’t mind revealing his strength to make her understand that she was dealing with a Highness.

Requests must be made openly. His Highness Randell is the one who makes the final decision.

Of course, these were just Victor’s preliminary judgments based on heraldry and were not necessarily accurate. He still needed to analyze the situation from a geopolitical perspective to see how deep the ties of interest between Lady Dori and Neowist truly ran.

Victor arrived at the detached villa where he was staying, asked Liaison Officer Enchino for a feudal map of the Kingdom of Naville, and went into the study alone.

He spread the map out on the desk and examined it carefully, his long, fine eyebrows knitting together.

Lady Dori’s fief was located in the southernmost part of the Kingdom of Naville, right next to the northern plains of the Randt Imperial territory. Its total area was nearly eight thousand square kilometers, and the location of Warhammer Camp 4 was also drawn within the Dekeizer family’s sphere of influence.

The feudal map didn’t mark the topography of the Dekeizer Earldom in detail, but the Alchemical militia had surveyed the mountain forest terrain, resources, and Mountain folk distribution within a one-thousand-five-hundred-square-kilometer area around Warhammer Camp 4.

As far as Victor knew, that stretch of mountain forest had not been under the effective control of any lord. Inside, there were about seven scattered mountain strongholds, with a total population of around four thousand Mountain folk. They were standard Wildmen, trading with villages in Baron Garrott’s fief to the west and the Randt Imperial territory to the south, but they did not serve any lord. Within the forest, there were only a few scattered, narrow valleys suitable for building castles and settlements.

A year ago, these valleys were occupied by Gnolls and Goblins. Victor wasn’t sure what the current situation was, as he hadn’t been in contact with Warhammer Camp 4 for several months.

If Lady Dori wanted to take effective control of that territory, she would not only have to clear out the beastmen from the valleys but also build stream reservoirs to secure a stable water source.

The problem was, there were no mines of any kind in that one-thousand-five-hundred-square-kilometer stretch of forest. If there had been any valuable mineral deposits, Victor wouldn’t have had the chance to build Warhammer Camp 4 there.

The lords of Naville were experts at mining in the mountains.

Would the Dekeizer family go to so much trouble—clearing out beastmen and building reservoirs—just for a few barren, narrow valleys?

That wasn’t even the main point. By marking the entire southern mountain forest as the Dekeizer family’s sphere of influence, Lady Dori had eliminated the buffer zone between Naville and the Randt Imperial territory. Without the approval of the Neowist family, the Naville Senate would never have agreed to her drawing the border this way.

However, due to the compression of the mountain range, those few narrow valleys were faintly arranged along a north-south line.

Victor constructed a map in his mind, following this line south until it fell upon the shore of Lake Fies in the Randt Imperial territory. A trade route, roughly three hundred kilometers long, appeared!

It cut through from north to south, connecting the Randt Imperial territory and Naville, leading straight to the shores of Lake Fies!

Victor’s long fingers tapped on the desk. He leaned back in his chair, a playful smile on his face.

“Interesting… Very interesting.”

If the kingdoms had continued their infighting, Neowist might have had a chance at restoration. But now that the kingdoms had shaken hands and were each expanding outward, the Legendary Knight was stumped. If he did nothing, in a few decades, the young Princess Royal Roland would turn around and deal with him.

But northern expansion was hopeless for the Randt Imperial territory; its only choice was to expand south of the river. To expand south, they first needed a port, and Neowist lacked the strength to defeat the lakeside Fishmen of Lake Fies—unless the Kingdom of Gambia launched a fierce assault on the Fishmen at the mouth of Lake Fies, sharing the pressure.

Getting Gambis to set aside its old grudges would be difficult, but not impossible. At the very least, Viscount Randell’s attitude at the Gambis Senate meeting had given Neowist a glimmer of hope.

Neowist had sought out Lady Dori through various channels, offering this trade route as a condition, and asked her to arrange a private meeting between the two sides.

This trade route was of extraordinary significance to the Kingdom of Naville!

The Kingdom of Naville’s grain imports were heavily reliant on the Sasan Empire, and Dodor controlled its main trade route. Without even thinking too far ahead, for the twenty-odd years that Naville would be constructing its water projects, Sasan and Dodor could casually manipulate the Naville people. With this trade route, grain from the Randt Imperial territory could flow directly into Naville, continuously increasing their grain reserves.

From Lady Dori’s perspective, Dekeizer was just a new family, even younger than House Randell. They had no ability to gain any advantage in the Kingdom of Naville’s northern expansion war. Moreover, Naville’s northern expansion was set to begin in eighteen years. In such a long time, Lady Dori’s drive to challenge the Elemental Sea would have been worn away. If she opened this trade route, the importance of the Dekeizer Earldom would be immediately highlighted.

In reality, regardless of how Victor’s talks with Neowist went, the Randt Imperial territory would have to strengthen its ties with Naville. Opening this trade route was inevitable for both sides. Lady Dori was merely acting as a go-between. Even if Victor refused, she would suffer no loss.

But there was a problem in all this. If Lady Dori’s plan to lure Victor south for a “chance encounter” with Neowist had the tacit approval of the Naville Royal Family, on what grounds could the Naville people guarantee that the Savage state Legendary Knight wouldn’t make a move against Viscount Randell? One had to remember, Neowist was the nominal liege lord of the three kingdoms. If he seized the opportunity to detain Viscount Randell, he could drag Naville into the conflict to confront Gambis together.

“No, that’s not right. The force behind Lady Dori can’t be the Kingdom of Naville. Them and the Emperor of Randt combined are no match for us in Gambis.”

Gambis was the strongest of the three kingdoms. Victor didn’t even know how many Knights Auguste had; all he knew was that all the Swift Dragon cavalry were apprentice knights. Naville had no need to take such a risk for Neowist, and Neowist wouldn’t be foolish enough to provoke Sylvia.

Then who was it that was guaranteeing this private meeting?

Victor clasped his hands behind his back, pacing back and forth in his study, calculating the key points.

The Pope? Tournans wasn’t in Naville; he couldn’t keep Neowist in line. Patriarch Tamor didn’t have that ability either… Suddenly, an image of the most unlikely faction flashed through Victor’s mind.

Could it be the Radiant Knights?

The presence of just two Gold rank Paladins would be enough to suppress Neowist, and Viscount Randell wouldn’t just turn and flee. If Neowist could set aside the seven-hundred-year-old feud, it was indeed possible for him and the Radiant Knights to collude.

The Centaur Hills and the Mountain Dwarves had suddenly migrated. The Radiant Knights were the core of the Church; it was impossible that they had no precautions for future changes. If a problem arose in the northern continent, the Goldwater River would be a natural barrier against a powerful enemy. It was quite necessary for the Theocracy of Ayr to build a port on Lake Fies as a fallback route.

However, the Radiant Knights were the leaders of the northern expansion strategy. If they openly built a port on Lake Fies, they must have water on the brain… If the Radiant Knights were already preparing a fallback route, would the lords of the Sasan Empire still have the heart for northern expansion? They’d be better off rushing to seize the port!

The Radiant Knights secretly supporting Neowist in building the port could prevent the spread of panic and, at the same time, prune away Nachtigal’s secular power.

The papal line’s most hated enemy was the Radiant Knights. There was no possibility of compromise between them.

As for Naville… who said we can only expand north and not south of the river?

“Ha, so Naville plans to use the Fishmen on the shores of Lake Fies to train new recruits? And then demand usage rights to the port from Neowist? The precondition is that I persuade Gambis to expand the scale of the Fishman War and build a port at the mouth of Lake Fies… and then the whole board comes alive.”

Victor chuckled, sitting back down in the armchair and stroking his smooth chin, thinking:

“Who said I can only expand south and not north? What if I plant a nail on the coastline of the Eastern Alliance ahead of time?”

From outside the door came the crisp, pleasant sound of Catherine’s high heels. Victor was about to put the map away, but after a moment’s thought, he left it spread out on the desk.

After a knock, the magnificently dressed Queen Mother pushed the door right open. She wore a black, off-the-shoulder, cinched-waist long dress. She twirled on her toes, and the skirt, designed with a high slit, bloomed like a petal, offering a fleeting glimpse of her beautifully contoured long legs before they were once again hidden by the petal-like skirt.

“My dear, is it lovely?” the radiant and captivating Catherine asked with a smile, performing an elegant curtsy.

Victor was dumbfounded, his eyes wide.

What am I seeing? Stockings… black stockings? There are dresses, and now there are stockings… I only casually made a pair of high-heeled tall boots for Gillian back then.

Chapter 507: Various Troubles

The astonishment and flame in Victor’s eyes sent a secret thrill through Catherine’s heart. Treading on delicate stiletto heels, her long, beautiful legs wrapped in black stockings flickered in and out of view beneath her fluttering skirt. She glided gracefully to her lover’s side and said in a sweet voice, “Lord Randell, where is your chivalry? Should I refresh your memory on how to praise a lady?”

“Your Majesty, please forgive my impoliteness. Your beauty made me forget my manners and left me tongue-tied. A lesson from Your Majesty on how to compliment a lady is precisely what I need.” Victor rose from the sofa, placing a hand over his chest in a sincere salute.

A bewitching smile touched Catherine’s lips, her emerald eyes like two pools of spring water. She rested a fair, slender hand on Victor’s shoulder, gently pushing him back into the sofa. Cupping his face, she initiated a long, passionate kiss.

After a long moment of tenderness, Catherine returned to her original question:

“Darling, what do you think of my outfit?”

“Utterly captivating.”

“Good. Then I’ll wear this tonight for the ball after the banquet,” Catherine said with a nod, her eyes shining brightly.

Victor was taken aback. Catherine had chosen a black, off-the-shoulder, cinched-waist petal dress paired with black stockings and stiletto heels. The ensemble highlighted the snow-white flawlessness of her skin, making her look mysterious, noble, sexually alluring, and elegant all at once. It was incredibly eye-catching, yet it seemed more suited for adding spice to a private moment between partners. When Sylvia had her first tryst with Victor, she had worn a spider silk petal dress. Even without stockings and high heels back then, Sylvia had utterly bewitched him.

The thought of Catherine wearing such an outfit to a royal ball just felt strange to Victor.

Of course, both Catherine and Ariel were high-ranking female knights of royal birth, well-versed in royal etiquette. They wouldn’t make such a low-level mistake in a public setting.

After some thought, Victor decided to trust his instincts. “Darling, a petal dress might not be formal enough for a royal ball.”

“Not formal enough? Of course I’ll be changing into several different gowns and sets of jewelry… Surely the Naville Royal Palace has a dressing room for female guests?”

The Queen Mother of Gambis looked puzzled for a moment. Then, her emerald-like eyes twinkled as she bit Victor’s earlobe and whispered with breath as fragrant as an orchid, “Darling, are you saying you wish I would only wear this for you?”

Victor smiled without a word, a silent affirmation. This clearly delighted Catherine. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kicked off her heels, and raised her gracefully contoured legs to show off her black spider silk stockings to her lover.

“Before there were stockings, a slit petal dress was an outfit noblewomen wore specifically to please their partners, so of course it couldn’t be worn to a ball. It’s different now. The royal tailors of the Sus Royal Family, inspired by high heels, have invented spider silk stockings of all colors. They make the flowing petal dress less frivolous and better suited for showcasing a Knight-Noblewoman’s dancing posture.”

Catherine paused, then sighed, “High heels are truly a great invention.”

Stockings could conceal flaws on the legs, hiding scars, large pores, bruises, and blemishes, while also slimming down any excess flesh, making a lady’s legs appear smooth, flawless, and elegantly shaped. They also offered protection from the sun and prevented swelling. However, Knight-Noblewomen didn’t have these flaws, especially high-ranking ones, whose bodies were nearly perfect, their delicate skin taut and immaculate. For them, wearing stockings actually covered their legs and diminished their feminine charm by a degree, but it was still a vast improvement over the cumbersome court dresses of the past.

The advent of high heels enriched the wardrobes of Knight-Noblewomen. First came dresses that showed off the calves, followed by thigh-high stockings that flaunted the entire leg. The complex and ornate fashion style of the noblewomen’s circle had now evolved into one of simple elegance, which in turn had brought about changes in the attire of male nobles.

Belted robes that looked like dresses, ridiculous puffed-sleeve shirts, and silly pointed-toe shoes were now obsolete. The long trousers, leather shoes, shirts, and jackets that Victor had promoted had become the new trend, widely embraced within noble circles.

One could say that Victor, with a single pair of crudely made lizard-skin high-heeled boots, had single-handedly pushed forward the development of noble fashion. His only frustration was that there were no intellectual property laws here. Noblewomen would only reward their tailors and cobblers with gold coins, but they wouldn’t even offer a word of thanks to him, the “inventor.”

This also served as a testament to the intelligence and initiative of ordinary people. With the right guidance, they could unleash astonishing creativity.

Victor nodded, accepting the changes in social etiquette, and offered Catherine his own suggestion.

“Darling, black is too somber and solemn. You could choose a brighter color, like purple.”

Catherine was not one to blindly obey her beloved. She tilted her head and said with a faint smile, “Queen Rex sent people with petal ballgowns of every color for me to choose from. I chose the only black one for the entire ball… because your hair and eyes are black. I’ll leave the purple one for the Queen of Naville. She has the purple-eyed bloodline, after all.”

“By the way, darling, I’ve already chosen your ceremonial robes for the banquet. Do you want to try them on now?” Catherine said, placing a hand on Victor’s, her eyes full of charm.

While the Queen Mother of Gambis placed great importance on the subtle signals of evening attire, it was a small matter to Victor. “My dearest Your Majesty, I will abide by your wishes.” He took Catherine’s delicate, perfect ankle, helped her put on her high heels, and prepared to try on his evening wear.

“Is this the latest map of Naville’s enfeoffments?” Catherine stood up and casually picked up the beast-hide scroll from the table. Her pupils contracted slightly when she noticed Lady Dori’s fief.

“The Dekeizer family’s territory is this close to the Randt Imperial territory? There’s no buffer zone at all?”

“No,” Victor said with a nonchalant nod. “From the map, I think Naville is interested in the shores of Lake Fies. They might want to build a port in cooperation with Neowist. It’s even possible the Kingdom of Sus is involved.”

“Darling, are you planning to do something?” Victor asked with a smile.

“Whatever I do will have to wait until after the banquet and the ball… Let’s go.”

Catherine flashed Victor a sweet smile, took his arm, and walked toward the study door, saying enthusiastically, “Darling, I’ll help you try on your clothes myself… How does that sound?”

“My beautiful Your Majesty, it would be my honor.”

“Then you have to do as I say… No objections, no impatience, and… no interfering with my work.”

“…I just hope we won’t be late.”

“Behave yourself, and we won’t be.”

After a full three hours of fussing, the satisfied Queen Mother of Gambis, with her proud creation on her arm, boarded the carriage for the banquet.

They arrived thirty minutes early at the private lounge in Boulderhold prepared specially for Viscount Randell. Before the banquet began, King Rex and Queen Shatia entered the lounge with a retinue, which included Marquess Faroul, the Gold Knight who had once visited the Centaur Hills.

“Lady Catherine, your radiance makes Boulderhold itself seem dim tonight.”

Rex first praised the glowing Catherine before turning to Victor and saying warmly, “Cousin Victor, let me introduce you. This is my wife, Shatia Rex.”

The Queen of Naville wore a pale blue court gown. She was stunningly beautiful, tall and well-proportioned, with black hair and a pair of rare purple eyes. Not only was she a Silver-rank female knight, but she was also the Queen of Sus’s younger half-sister.

Victor bent to lift the Queen of Naville’s jade hands, performed the gesture of kissing the back of the hand, and offered a blessing, “Your Majesty, may your beauty be everlasting and your youth eternal.”

“Your Excellency Randell, it is your beauty that is the greatest I have ever seen,” the Queen of Naville said with a beautiful smile, turning to chat amiably with Catherine.

When spoken by a Knight, “beauty” referred more to one’s level of life. Shatia’s husband was a Gold Knight, so her praise for Victor contained no hint of flirtation, a fact Catherine well understood. After exchanging just a few words, the two royal noblewomen were as close as sisters.

“And this is your older cousin, Marchioness Corinna W. Rex.”

When introducing the other noblewoman beside him, the ruggedly handsome King of Naville showed a rare hint of tenderness.

Marchioness Corinna wore a beige-colored long dress. Her features were exquisite, with black hair, black eyes, long, thin eyebrows, and slightly pointed ears. She was exceptionally beautiful, though a touch less so than the purple-eyed queen. However, the spiritual power constantly radiating from a high-ranking female knight inspired awe in ordinary people, making them difficult to look at directly. Lady Corinna, on the other hand, was delicate and gentle, exuding a moving vulnerability that easily aroused a man’s protective instincts. The attendants and guards in the lounge couldn’t help but steal glances at her. If they were to choose the most beautiful woman in the room, it would undoubtedly be Marchioness Corinna.

She stepped forward on her own and took Victor’s hands. After they touched cheeks in greeting, she smiled and said, “Cousin Victor W. Randell, you are the pride of Wimbledon.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Cousin Corinna W. Rex,” Victor said respectfully.

Before King Rex had even reached the Silver rank, this noblewoman of Moon Elf bloodline had been by his side and had even borne him his eldest son, who had no right of succession. This period of loving, mutual devotion had been a great help in Rex’s advancement to Gold Knight, and as a result, Marchioness Corinna was deeply favored by the King of Naville.

It was said that Duke Peter of the Borrey United Kingdom had married a noblewoman with Moon Elf bloodline as his official wife. This lady had once been the lover of Duke Peter’s older brother. After his brother went missing, Duke Peter, in his pursuit of his beloved, rejected a political marriage arranged by his family. He won the Moon Elf noblewoman’s heart with his sincerity. After their marriage, they had a son, and Duke Peter successfully stepped into the Gold realm, creating a romantic tale widely sung by bards.

Most Knight-Nobles were unwilling to let their partners with Moon Elf bloodline go on adventures freely. This was likely the reason for the scarcity of Wind Walk Archers.

It suddenly occurred to Victor that there was at least a fifty-year age gap between him and this cousin of his, yet she looked to be in the prime of her life, with the face of a woman in her twenties!

No wonder heraldry was necessary… Things could get chaotic too easily among extraordinary beings!

“Victor, welcome to Naville.” Marquess Faroul took a step forward and performed a Knight’s salute from two meters away. For high-ranked Knights, this was a very close distance.

“Naville’s other three Highnesses are busy hunting that Gold-rank Gnoll and cannot attend the welcome banquet at Boulderhold. They asked me to convey their apologies to Your Excellency.”

“It’s no matter. If I have the chance, I’d also like to join Naville’s Highnesses in the recreational activity of hunting Gnolls,” Victor said with a slight smile, before adding, “Of course, that will have to wait until after I’ve reorganized Naville’s water project.”

“Haha, but first you must attend the banquet and ball at Boulderhold,” King Rex said with a great laugh. “Cousin Victor, let us go. The nobles of Naville are eager to witness the splendor of Viscount Randell.”

In the resplendent Knight’s Hall, crystal candlestick chandeliers had already been lit, and nearly a thousand nobles of Naville were gathered together. King Rex gave a toast, and the grand welcome banquet officially began.

Victor ate with great pleasure, though not because of the sumptuous delicacies spread across the table. In addition to the usual knives, forks, and spoons, the chefs of Boulderhold had specially prepared a pair of silver chopsticks for each guest, intended for dealing with steamed fish and stir-fried dishes. The pan-fried giant rhino ribeye was also exceptionally fragrant and tender, cooked with Naville’s unique mustard seed oil, and the pan-frying method itself had come from the Randall family. Every dish at the feast was also seasoned with the shell-less clam seasoning from the Randell Fief.

It wasn’t a feast without shell-less clam seasoning, even though the stuff was as expensive as gold.

Cream, edible plant-based oils, seasonings, chopsticks, paper, high heels, dresses, spider silk stockings, shirts and jackets, the mouldboard plow, giant brick kilns, water projects, the tenant system, and even the Mutual Aid Association… From eating habits to fashion trends, from modes of production to ways of life… without realizing it, Victor had already left an indelible mark on this world.

As the candles in the crystal chandeliers were about to burn out, King Rex announced the end of the banquet. The guests returned to their respective lounges, allowing the court attendants to clear the tableware and furniture, lower the crystal chandeliers from the ceiling to replace the lizard-oil candles, lay down carpets, and set up the ballroom. The noble ladies also needed time to change into their sexually alluring and elegant petal ballgowns.

Once everything was ready, the guests returned to the great hall. The King of Naville invited Catherine for the first dance, and Victor invited the Queen of Naville.

To the strains of a melodious tune, Victor held the beautiful and bewitching Queen Shatia, gliding and twirling across the ornately patterned carpet.

“Victor, your Sus court dance is excellent. Did Cousin Sylvia teach you?” Queen Shatia asked in a soft voice.

“Sylvia and I rarely dance. In fact, she has attended a ball only a handful of times. The tutor who taught me the Sus court dance was actually my wife, Marquess Sophia,” Victor replied.

Shatia glanced at Catherine and Rex and said with a light laugh, “From Sasan to Borrey, almost all the royal families have close ties with Sus, except for Friedrich and Auguste.”

Victor mulled this over for a moment before saying, “The purple-eyed bloodline is indeed uniquely blessed, but the number of purple-eyed noblewomen is also very small… I just don’t understand why the House Elayanuo insists on maintaining its marriage alliance with the Randt Imperial Family. Is Gambis not powerful enough?”

Shatia shook her head almost imperceptibly and smiled. “The Dodor Royal Family is because of Ludwig’s in-laws, and Auguste because of his own romantic Nature, but the main reason lies with Sus’s own problems.” Seeing that Victor had no intention of replying, she took the initiative to ask, “Do you still remember Princess Shireen Elayanuo?”

An image of the black-haired, purple-eyed little princess of Sus who loved forging flashed through Victor’s mind. He nodded. “Of course. Princess Shireen left a deep impression on me. I’ve always treasured the Eagle Wing Bow she forged for me. Your Majesty, is Princess Shireen well?”

“My niece has never forgotten Your Excellency…” the Queen of Naville sighed. “But she has no say in her own marriage. Her father, Duke Meiding, is preparing to marry Shireen to the eldest son of the Peter family in Borrey.”

“Raymond Peter?” Victor’s pupils contracted.

This was the same Raymond who had sent assassins after him, an account Victor had yet to settle. On one hand, Raymond’s father was a Gold Knight. On the other, Victor suspected he was connected to the Wizard who had harmed the little Baron. Victor was not in a hurry to alert his quarry, treating Raymond as a clue—a clue that could very well lead to a god-level entity. One day, Victor would capture Raymond and get to the bottom of the matter.

Although Victor and Princess Shireen had no significant emotional entanglement, he didn’t want the somewhat naive Sus princess to be drawn into this terrifying vortex.

“I heard that Raymond Peter lost his family inheritance rights,” Victor said coolly, his arm around Shatia’s slender, pliant waist.

“He not only lost his inheritance but was also exiled to the Southern Continent to take part in missions against the Barbarians. During battle, he awakened the Wind Walk talent and is now a Wind Walk Archer himself. Of course, he is still far inferior to Your Excellency.”

The Queen of Naville spun several times with Victor’s steps, her purple dress blooming like a flower. Her breathing remained steady as she said, “With Raymond marrying into the House Elayanuo, Shireen’s claim to the throne will be elevated to the first in line… Poor Shireen is not happy about this marriage, and her mother can do nothing about it… because you rejected Shireen’s proposal of love, which was an opportunity Cynthia had fought for from Duke Meiding. Now, Shireen’s marriage is for the Duke to decide.”

“Unfortunately, my daughter does not have the purple-eyed bloodline, and there are particularly few purple-eyed noblewomen in Shireen’s generation. Even my sister, Princess Fenna, must marry into the distant Baselius family.” Shatia looked sorrowful, her expression of heart-wrenching pity as if she were lamenting Shireen’s fate.

This level of charm was far inferior to that of the purple-haired, purple-eyed Sophia, and even Sophia could no longer shake Victor’s iron will.

Purple-eyed noblewomen could purify the paternal bloodline, and the fact that the Rex Royal Family had several Gold Knights was largely thanks to their long-term marriage alliances with purple-eyed noblewomen from House Elayanuo. But the purple-eyed bloodline itself had never produced a Gold Knight, which had caused the Elayanuo royal family to be reduced to a breeding tool for the five great houses of Sus.

As for whether Shireen was truly unwilling to marry Raymond, that was not necessarily the case. What was true was that Queen Cynthia wanted to use the power of Victor and Sylvia to break the political deadlock in the Kingdom of Sus and thereby escape the control of the five great houses. Shatia was most likely testing Victor’s attitude on behalf of her sister.

The internal politics of the Kingdom of Sus were a tangled mess, and York and the great Sus house of Blanstedt were related by marriage. Victor had no desire to wade into these murky waters.

“May the Supreme Lord bless Princess Shireen,” Victor said with a solemn expression.

At that moment, the music ended. The hall erupted in thunderous applause. Victor released the Queen of Naville’s delicate hand and slender waist and bowed. Shatia smiled faintly, curtsied in return, and said in a low voice, “We will be counting on Your Excellency for Naville’s water project.”

“Your Majesty, I will certainly do my utmost.”

Victor sighed inwardly. First, it was the Randt Imperial territory, and now the Sus Royal Family… Inside Gambis, all was calm and peaceful, but the moment he stepped outside, all sorts of messy affairs came flying at him.

Next, Catherine, Ariel, and Lady Dori took turns dancing a set with Victor. In between, Victor also invited the wives of Naville’s other four Highnesses to dance. Until the ball ended, Catherine gave no high-ranking female knight of Naville any opportunity to get close to Victor.

As the night deepened, the guests of the ball began to depart. However, Naville’s Grand Vizier came forward to ask the Archbishop, the lords of Earl-rank and above, and Victor to stay for a court tea party.

Chapter 508: Academic Standing (Part 1)

The reception room of Boulderhold was luxurious, magnificent, and had a distinct style. Three crystal candlestick chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their candlelight refracted through the pure crystal into a dazzling display that filled every corner of the room. The taxidermied heads of ferocious beasts and an array of practical, elegant adamantine weapons were nailed to the walls. The furniture, with its simple, heavy designs, was mostly trimmed with gold leaf and adorned with gemstones to mask its crudeness.

All of this showcased the valor and wealth of the Naville people, reflecting the characteristics of the Kingdom of Naville itself: dense forests, abundant beasts, rich mineral resources, and thriving trade. Its subjects were mostly valiant hunters and simple-minded miners, with a scarcity of meticulous and highly-skilled craftsmen.

However, the leatherworking skill of Naville’s tanners was second to none.

The leather sofa Victor sat on was squarish and blocky, without a single curved line. Yet the leather itself was dense, its color a dark red bordering on black, imbued with a profound sense of history. The surface was glossy and smooth, the pores so clearly visible that it was obvious no lacquer or dye had been used; it retained its original color. Judging by the degree of its patina, it had seen at least several decades of use, yet it was remarkably supple, showing none of the cracks common to old leather. It didn’t look like an antique sofa at all.

Rex noticed Victor’s curiosity about the sofa and laughed heartily, saying with considerable pride, “This is a centaur-hide sofa. It was a war trophy of mine from five years ago. A full seventeen intact centaur hides, and they’re all here.”

Victor looked up in surprise, his gaze sweeping over the more than thirty leather sofas, all occupied by guests. “Incredible,” he said. “I would have thought these sofas were preserved for over fifty years.”

The great scholar of Naville, Grand Vizier Marquess Wolert, stroked his graying beard and explained with a warm smile:

“We in Naville have a special vegetable tanning process. The resulting leather is not only durable and breathable, but it also changes color when it absorbs water. It’s not very obvious with dark colors, but with light colors, especially white, it’s quite distinct. The surface of the leather turns red when wet, and when it dries, the color deepens. This significant color change with use is also known as ‘color nurturing’ or ‘aging.’ That’s why Naville leather becomes more beautiful with use. Even brand-new vegetable-tanned leather possesses a rustic, gentle, and elegant quality due to its low color saturation.”

Archbishop Vispucci, dressed in a red robe threaded with gold, nodded and added, “The hardened leather armor made by Naville’s tanners is of outstanding quality. With proper maintenance, its defensive capabilities can remain unchanged for at least twenty years. The leather armor equipped by the Church’s Sacred Warriors comes mainly from the tithes submitted by the Kingdom of Naville.”

A look of realization, followed by a “chagrined” smile, crossed Victor’s face. “So the Sacred Warriors are equipped with Naville’s finest leather armor… Heh, it makes me hesitant to even bring up the topic with Father Dayn.”

The Sacred Warriors’ leather armor looked like aged leather, and Viscount Randell was renowned for his piety and generosity. His reluctance to discuss the matter with his fief’s priest was, of course, due to a fear of being asked for another donation.

Viscount Randell’s self-deprecating words bridged the distance between him and the lords, while also subtly praising Naville’s wealth. The Naville nobles present let out laughs that were either reserved or hearty, and even Archbishop Vispucci shook his head with a smile.

They were supposed to be talking about the glorious feat of hunting centaurs, so how did the topic turn to leatherworking?

King Rex’s laughter was cheerful, but inwardly he was quite frustrated. Queen Shatia glanced at her husband, covered her red lips with a round fan, and said with a lovely smile, her eyes crinkling, “Viscount Randell certainly focuses on different things. No wonder the House of Randell has achieved such enviable success.”

Victor shrugged his shoulders and said, “The Randell Fief has no centaurs, nor any mineral deposits. I have no choice but to worry about filling the stomachs of my subjects.”

“The coffee and sugar of Randell Fief are worth more than any mineral deposit.”

The Grand Vizier of Naville raised his cup, took a sip of the fragrant coffee, and leaned back against the sofa, saying with deep satisfaction, “The effects of coffee are truly magical. For an old fellow like me to maintain the vigor and mental sharpness of my youth, it’s all thanks to drinking coffee.”

“And that’s not all,” King Rex said, his eyes bright. “The resonance of the fire element node is crucial for an apprentice knight to become a Knight, and for a Knight to become a Silver Knight. Any Knight who resonates with the fire element node first is basically guaranteed a smooth promotion. Coffee can stimulate a slight increase in one’s Spirit, helping Knights perceive the rhythm of the fire element’s pulsation. When knight-nobles of a low bloodline consume large doses of coffee, their chances of resonating with the fire element node also increase.” He paused, glanced at Catherine, and continued, “I’m not familiar with the promotion situation for the knight-nobles of Gambis, but in any case, the knight-noble scions of Naville have developed a method of consuming coffee to resonate with the fire element node. They mix four pounds of coffee powder with one pound of water to form a paste, cut it into small pieces, and after consuming it all, they circulate their Aura and attempt to resonate with the fire element node.”

“The Naville Royal Family has already classified coffee with its fire element affinity as an extraordinary material.” Rex shook his head and sighed. “Unfortunately, there’s just too little coffee. In Korgeston, the price is as high as fifty-five Gold Sols per pound, and it’s still in short supply. Also, the powder’s effect on boosting vigor is a bit weak. It would be wonderful if Gambis could make coffee into a potion.”

Catherine smiled faintly and said in a clear voice, “The coffee production in Randell Fief is limited. After Victor deducts the tithe, the amount of coffee submitted to Aerie Fortress annually is only about nine hundred pounds. By that calculation, Randell Fief produces at most five thousand pounds of coffee a year. There really isn’t much to distribute to Naville.”

She studiously avoided mentioning any potions made from coffee, but a thought stirred in Victor’s mind.

The Alchemical militia turned detoxified Dark Astringent Fruit into coffee and used the non-detoxified fruit to make a hallucinogenic potion for interrogations. But the Dark Astringent Fruit was originally a raw material for Spirit potions, specifically used to temporarily enhance a person’s Spirit attribute. Besides the formula for the Spirit potion, the Alchemical militia also had methods for preparing Physique, Perception, and Life potions. The alchemists of the Alchemical Empire used the Gold Potion to restore Aura to maintain high-intensity work continuously, unlike modern knights who used the extra Aura from the Gold Potion to resonate with more elemental nodes. Because knights relied on this external force, they missed the opportunity to truly comprehend the four elements. They could not break through their bloodline barriers, stalling at the senior apprentice knight and senior knight stages.

Since the ancient alchemists were all knights, they must have developed a system of potion-making that benefited them. The Physique, Spirit, Perception, and Life potions were very likely potion-making products that helped ancient knights comprehend the four elements and advance smoothly.

Regrettably, the raw materials for these formulas had either been renamed or gone extinct. The possibility of Victor recreating these ancient potions was almost zero.

However, Aerie Fortress had a Wizard skilled in concocting magical potions; Auguste’s skill in potion-making was world-renowned. If Victor collaborated with Aerie Fortress, he might be able to improve the ancient formulas and bring many lost ancient potions back to light.

In the past, Victor had been too weak and dared not bargain with a tiger; he had to hide his good things away. Now, Viscount Randell was no longer the man he once was. He had the ability to protect his own interests and could certainly cash in some non-core knowledge for usable technology.

Collaborative research and sharing the results was really a game of borrowing a hen to lay eggs, and it was also a trend in social development. The House of Randell didn’t have a hen that could lay eggs yet, so holding onto the ancient knowledge, which was merely chicken feed, was meaningless. The key was whether he could get a share of the eggs in the end, and how those eggs should be divided.

Victor’s mind raced, adding the collaborative research and development plan to X-3’s list of strategic objectives. He was surprised to find that the list of pending strategic objectives was getting rather long… it included: gaining control of The Golden Company, perfecting the Mind Bloodline secret art, resolving the heir issue, comprehensively strengthening the House of Randell’s power, collecting the Alchemy Tower’s Rune Crystals, building a port and a fleet, probing the secrets of the Masked Brotherhood, establishing a secret stronghold on the coast of the Eastern Alliance, collaborating on the research and development of ancient technology, and obtaining free minting rights.

Fortunately, there were no conflicts between these strategic objectives. In fact, many of them intersected and could be advanced simultaneously.

Above all these goals, Victor had an even longer-term, more magnificent objective: to push for the reform of the tenant system and to pull the clergy from the apex of the pyramid.

The Radiant Church should serve the secular regime, not stand as equals with the great lords.

To put it bluntly, Victor wanted to seize the power of the Lord of Radiance. If the Lord of Radiance was truly the highest achievement of the Alchemical Empire, then He must have been made to serve the imperial regime. The ancient alchemists would never have allowed their own creation to ride on their heads.

Since Victor was a secular lord and the successor to the Alchemical Empire, he felt it was his duty to right the wrongs.

And if the Lord of Radiance was not a creation of the alchemists… who would care?

“Coffee, and the other inventions of the House of Randell, primarily come from the wisdom of the common people.”

Victor nodded in greeting to Master Edwen, who sat beside Grand Vizier Marquess Wolert, and said, “I must thank my Uncle Edwen. His views on collecting and organizing the knowledge of refugees have had a great influence on me. Although I have never studied at the Silver Spire, I consider my Uncle Edwen my academic tutor.”

Edwen beamed, nodding repeatedly. Grand Vizier Wolert, however, shot him a sideways glance before turning to Victor and saying, “Edwen is an old friend from my student days, but I completely disagree with his views. How can the wisdom and insight of refugees compare to those of the nobles? Some of their experiences are worth drawing from, but that’s all. To deliberately collect and organize the knowledge of refugees is both unnecessary and impossible. Because refugees possess no knowledge at all.”

“You old goat, you still refuse to admit the facts right in front of your eyes,” Edwen retorted, his beard bristling. “The life experience of refugees is knowledge. I admit that the wisdom of refugees is far inferior to that of the nobles, but their sheer numbers are undeniable… What we scholars must do is collect and organize the scattered life experiences of the refugees, incorporate them into the existing academic system, and then innovate. In this respect, the House of Randell is the most successful example.”

Father Dayn also nodded and said, “I have firsthand experience with what Master Edwen is saying. It was with the assistance of refugees that I invented soap.”

“Your Excellency Dayn, you are the inventor of soap, not the refugees.”

A court scholar from Naville spoke up in rebuttal, “If the refugees were capable of inventing soap, they would have done so long ago. The fact is, they can do nothing without scholars. Scholars, on the other hand, can still make inventions without the assistance of refugees. Therefore, the scholar is the key figure.”

“You cannot ignore the facilitating role the refugees played, and their experience was the foundation for Dayn’s invention of soap,” Archbishop Vispucci said decisively. “This point is not up for debate!”

Seeing the court tea party devolve into a squabble between academic schools of thought, the lords and court nobles of Naville quickly lost interest and began to chat amongst themselves.

“Edwen, you say that many of the House of Randell’s inventions benefited from refugees, but what about the tenant system? I imagine Viscount Randell’s creation of the tenant system had nothing to do with refugees, did it?”

Grand Vizier Marquess Wolert, seeing Edwen at a loss for words, stroked his beard with a triumphant smile. He stood up, gave Victor a slight bow, and asked:

“Your Excellency Randell, you are the creator of the tenant system. I have a few questions about it that I would like to ask you.”

The tenant system?

The titled nobles of Naville immediately perked up their ears. The chatter in the reception room instantly died down, and all eyes focused on Viscount Randell.

Victor set down the silver cup of Snow Ear Tea, a confident smile on his face. “Marquess Wolert, my lord, please ask away.”

Chapter 509: Academic Standing (Part 2)

“Lord Randell, the main body of your tenants consists of refugees, not the lord’s registered subjects. They have no obligation of loyalty to the lord, yet they enjoy the rights of your subjects… renting land, taking a twenty-percent share of the harvest, and when the fief faces disaster or danger, they are not even required to defend their homes. What, then, is the cornerstone of this tenant system? Is it built purely upon the benevolent virtues of the lord?”

Grand Vizier Wolert looked at the young and handsome Victor and said meaningfully, “Without night, there is no day. Without cold, there is no warmth. Benevolence without authority will only foster cunning and contempt among the lower-class people, failing to win true respect and gratitude.”

In the reception hall, there were eleven lords of the rank of Earl or higher and over thirty court nobles. Most of them did not know the Grand Vizier’s true intention for inviting them to this tea party. It was only when Marquess Wolert brought up the tenant system and posed a sharp question to Viscount Randell that the guests began to understand.

This court tea party was, in essence, a hearing on the tenant system.

The Kingdom of Naville had a sparse population, and the mountain folk hunters were still in a semi-autonomous state, which resulted in a limited number of vassal soldiers available to the lords. If the Kingdom of Naville wished to develop the Northern Wildlands, it had to expand its army and actively prepare for war.

King Rex was determined to follow the example of the Centaur Hills and implement the tenant system, absorbing hundreds of thousands of refugees to form a mercenary legion as an auxiliary force for the kingdom’s army. The Royal Family’s subjects were mostly concentrated in the Naville Basin, which was already overpopulated and could not accommodate more refugees. The northern mountainous regions directly under the Royal Family could at most hold one hundred thousand refugees, leaving the remaining four hundred-thousand-plus to be settled by the lords of south-central Naville.

The King had no authority to interfere in the internal affairs of his lords; whether to implement the tenant system within a fief was up to the lord to decide.

The lords of south-central Naville had rather complicated feelings about the tenant system. On one hand, the tenant system had given rise to the virtual fief system. By granting virtual fiefs of real land, lords could award lordships to alleviate internal family conflicts and keep their knights within the family’s central authority, thereby strengthening the lord’s power. On the other hand, the cost of implementing the tenant system was high and fraught with hidden dangers. The tenants farmed during the busy season and worked for wages during the idle season, receiving a share of the harvest and earning money. If the fief faced a crisis, they might very well abandon their leases and flee. Moreover, the mercenary legion recruited from the tenants drew military pay every year, and the lord also had to provide compensation for the dead and wounded, which added to the family’s financial burden.

The Grand Vizier’s question spoke to the very heart of the south-central Naville lords’ concerns. All eyes were fixed on Viscount Randell, waiting to see how he would answer.

“A protector is never lacking in authority.”

Victor stood up, his deep black eyes sweeping across the room. He spoke with calm elegance, “The tenant system is built on the cornerstone of the vassalage system; it is an extension of it. The tenant system emerged because of changes in production capacity and the mode of production, which in turn drove reforms in the distribution system.”

“In the past, the output of a single village was very limited. To ensure seeds for the next year and maintain the fief’s grain reserves, the lord had to collect the majority of the grain from the villagers. The villagers’ rations were insufficient, so they had to rely on foraging on common lands to survive. The lord, in turn, would only symbolically collect some resources from the common lands as a tribute. But now…”

Victor smiled and continued, “What I give the tenants is not a twenty-percent share of the harvest, but thirty percent. Yet, the total grain and produce reserves of the House of Randell have increased by nearly two hundred times! The Randell Fief is full of hills, and Naville is mostly mountainous. What the House of Randell can achieve, all of you present can achieve as well.”

Archbishop Vispucci nodded and said to the lords, “The tithe of agricultural and pastoral goods paid by the House of Randell last year was more than all of you combined.”

The reception hall immediately erupted in an uproar. After a moment of discussion among the lords, an Earl stood up and said with a smile, “Your Excellency Vispucci, that’s not a fair comparison. My fief doesn’t produce grain, only minerals, timber, herbs, and beast hides.”

The Archbishop glanced at him and said slowly, “Indeed. And the Randell Fief has no mines and has only been under development for seven years.”

The lords of Naville were left speechless, their gazes on Viscount Randell growing intensely fervent. Grand Vizier Wolert pondered for a moment before asking, “Lord Randell, what do you mean by ‘changes in production capacity and the mode of production driving reforms in the distribution system’?”

“Oh, my dear Marquess, who cares about all that?”

The same Earl, ignoring the Grand Vizier’s glare, asked eagerly, “Lord Randell, how did you do it?”

“These are, in fact, the same question.”

Victor explained, “We adopted the method of deep plowing and careful cultivation. We used fewer seeds but harvested more grain. Although I increased the share for my tenants and subjects, the total amount of produce I received increased rather than decreased. With higher yields, the tenants and subjects no longer needed to rely on foraging on common lands to make a living. When the returns from farming surpassed those from foraging, they were more than happy to turn the wilderness and common lands into taxable farmland and pastures. The cultivated area in the Randell Fief has grown from the initial eighty thousand mu to the current one and a half million mu. In the next decade, the cultivated area in the Randell Fief will reach three and a half million mu.”

“This is how productivity drives changes in the distribution system. It can also be called: Productivity determines the social system.”

“Productivity determines the social system… Productivity determines the social system…”

Grand Vizier Wolert looked utterly stunned, muttering to himself. The other scholars present also fell into deep thought.

Rex grew secretly anxious. A few dry coughs failed to rouse his Grand Vizier from his reverie. This tea party was meant to promote the benefits of the tenant system to the south-central lords, and there were still two key issues to discuss, yet Wolert was lost in a daze.

What was all this about productivity and distribution systems? Couldn’t these academic concepts wait until after the important business was concluded, to be mulled over back home?

Rex truly wanted to splash a basin of cold water on that old dog Wolert to wake him up!

Queen Shatia’s eyes shifted gracefully. In a soft and enchanting voice, she asked, “Cousin Victor, can the mountainous regions of south-central Naville become as rich as the Randell Fief?”

“On that question, I believe Marquess Faroul has the most right to speak.” Victor smiled slightly, his gaze turning to the Gold Knight of Naville.

Marquess Faroul nodded and began to speak. “During my visit to the Centaur Hills, the Randell Fief left a deep impression on me. There, I saw boundless farmlands and pastures, stream reservoirs connected by canals, terraced fields built on the hills, and aqueducts…” He paused, then faced Victor and said, “However, at that time, the area of cultivated land and terraced fields in the Randell Fief was only just over three hundred thousand mu. I never imagined that in just three short years, Lord Randell has expanded the farmland fivefold.”

“The main canal of the Randell Fief now runs through the entire territory.” Victor changed the subject slightly, saying, “Of course, the growth in farmland is still mainly due to the development of terraced fields.”

A glint appeared in Lady Dori’s eyes, and she pressed, “Victor, Naville’s water project doesn’t involve my fief. If you were to plan for the Dekeizer Earldom, what would it become?”

“That… would depend on the specific geographical conditions of the Dekeizer Earldom.”

Victor thought for a moment before saying, “But I believe that building stream reservoirs to control mountain floods, creating terraced fields, and constructing aqueducts would certainly not be a problem. The sun-facing terraced fields could be used to grow cash crops like Spiked Kidney Beans, rye, ground-potatoes, foxtail pasture grass, and fruit trees. The shaded side could be used for certain herbs and spices that prefer shady environments, or for cultivating spider silk shrubs to develop a spider silk weaving industry. Furthermore, the stream reservoirs can not only provide a stable water source for villagers and livestock but also be used for aquaculture. When necessary, the reservoirs can release water to prevent floods, and the silt deposited by the floods is very fertile, which villagers can use to make fertilizer…”

The lords listened with rapt attention, their minds filled with visions of prosperity. Even King Rex’s eyes shone as he nodded repeatedly. The Scribe’s quill scratched across the hide paper, the rustling sound like a symphony accompanying Viscount Randell’s speech.

Catherine rested her snow-white, porcelain-like cheek on her hand. Her emerald eyes reflected the image of her beloved speaking with such eloquence, her expression focused and filled with affection. But no one knew what the Queen Mother of Gambis was thinking at that moment.

“The above are some of my humble views.” Victor bowed his head slightly, concluding the topic.

Dori gave him a deep look and smiled enchantingly. “Your Excellency, just hearing your brief description, I already feel that the future of the Dekeizer family is incredibly bright.”

“My Lady, you flatter me,” Victor responded with polite grace.

“Lord Randall, allow me to introduce myself again.” The Earl who had spoken first placed a hand on his chest in a salute and said enthusiastically, “I am Manfred of House Meitens. My fief is in the central part of Naville. May I have the honor of inviting you to visit the Meitens Earldom?”

Before Victor could respond, Queen Shatia immediately cut through the lords’ restless stirring, chiding, “Earl Meitens, Lord Randell is an esteemed guest invited by the Royal Family. He has traveled a long way to help Naville design its water project. Your invitation is highly inappropriate!”

“My apologies, I was too impolite.” Earl Meitens quickly apologized, then asked eagerly, “Lord Randell, according to what you’ve said, does this mean we can build stream reservoirs and aqueducts to develop New Agro-husbandry even before the main canal is completed?”

“Yes.” Victor nodded, his expression turning serious. “I must make one point clear: a stable water source is extremely important, and the effect of small-scale water projects is in no way comparable to that of large-scale ones. If you gentlemen only wish to develop small-scale water projects in your own fiefs, an ordinary designer would be sufficient. There would be no need for me to visit the Kingdom of Naville at all.”

Earl Meitens noticed King Rex glaring at him like a tiger and quickly tried to salvage the situation.

“Lord Randell has put it perfectly! What I mean is, if each family’s small-scale water projects can proceed in tandem with the kingdom’s large-scale project, our financial burden would be much lighter.”

King Rex laughed heartily. “I invited Cousin Victor to visit Naville precisely to solve the problem of constructing these water projects concurrently.”

Once Viscount Randell identified the node reservoirs for the large-scale water project, the local lords could immediately anse those nodes as a basis to develop their own small-scale water systems. The improvement of the water systems meant the flourishing of agriculture and animal husbandry, and by the following year, the fiefs would have additional income.

In Naville, the prices of agricultural and pastoral products had always been high. Even lords with mines at home cried poverty, and those noble families who had exhausted their mines had truly fallen to the point of “selling their sons and daughters.”

Agriculture and animal husbandry were the true gold mines that would never run dry. Without a doubt, Viscount Randell possessed the Midas touch.

The assembled lords began to calculate what kind of gifts they should offer to persuade Viscount Randell to prioritize their fiefs. They looked at Victor as if he were a goose that laid golden eggs.

Faced with pairs of eyes brimming with passionate “flirtation,” Victor’s elegant smile finally stiffened. He could handle the beautiful ladies, but the soulful gazes from the male nobles truly made the hair on his neck stand up.

At this moment, Grand Vizier Wolert, having recovered from his contemplation of the new academic theory, quickly scanned the Scribe’s records of the conversation. He cleared his throat and asked respectfully,

“Venerable Lord Randall, since developing water projects and New Agro-husbandry can provide us with farmland and pastures, why do we need to implement the tenant system? Wouldn’t we accumulate more wealth if we simply hired refugee workers?”

The reception hall fell silent at once, and all eyes focused on Viscount Randell.

“There is only wealth where there are people. Without people, wealth is meaningless.”

Victor sat back down on the sofa, patting its gold-leaf-trimmed armrest. His voice was clear and pleasant as he said, “This leather sofa is made primarily from Centaur hide and high-quality wood, decorated with gold and gems, making it quite valuable… but only to humans. In fact, every process in making this sofa was completed by people. It is people who gave it the concept of value, or rather, human labor created its value.”

“We consider gold coins to be a general equivalent of wealth, but it’s hard to imagine a bear using Gold Sols to buy this sofa.”

Victor’s witty description elicited a roar of laughter. When the laughter died down, he continued, “In my view, the concepts of ‘noble’ and ‘lord’ should be discussed separately. Because a noble has the attributes of a person, while a ‘lord’ is a position of authority arising from the obligation to protect and does not possess individual attributes. A noble should enjoy wealth, but as an individual, how much wealth can a noble truly enjoy? It’s like how I only occupy one seat on this sofa. His Majesty Rex owns all these priceless sofas, but are they not for us to enjoy?”

“Well said!”

A Marquess nodded in praise. “We lords are said to possess all the wealth of our fiefs, but we still only eat three meals a day. Aren’t the resources that belong to the lord ultimately used to support our subjects? Isn’t the grain we store ultimately used to aid those refugees for free?”

“Therefore, a lord does not enjoy wealth; a lord should control wealth.”

Victor said with a smile, “Based on the obligation of protection, the non-individual lord must view the populace as wealth to be protected and controlled. The tenant system is designed to help lords transform refugees into controllable wealth—wealth that needs protection! The House of Randell’s achievements today were built by over one hundred thousand people. Without them, there would be no canals and reservoirs, no millions of mu of farmland and pastures, no towns and villages, no castles and armies, and no House of Randell.”

Clap, clap, clap.

Archbishop Vispucci applauded and said, “Well said, Lord Randell!”

The reception hall immediately erupted in fervent applause, and Victor had to stand up and bow to the guests in acknowledgment.

As the applause subsided, Earl Meitens rose to speak. “Venerable Lord Randall, I would like to ask you, if a tenant household leaves the fief and takes all their grain and wealth with them, how are we to control that wealth?”

Victor glanced at the Archbishop, then nodded with a smile. “The tenants have the right to do so. However, the lord has the lord’s authority. In our Randell Fief, we do not allow tenant households to build their own storehouses. They must store their grain in the village office’s bakery. If tenants choose to leave the Randell Fief, they can only take with them currency of an equivalent value. The grain reserves of the Randell Fief remain under the control of the House of Randell. As for the currency, that is the wealth the tenant household has earned… Do the lords of Naville want Copper Sols, or do they want grain?”

“Grain, of course. Naville has plenty of copper mines; Copper Sols can’t buy much grain at all!” Earl Meitens said with a loud laugh.

Victor nodded and said, “The lords of Naville keep the precious grain. The tenants take their Copper Sols to other kingdoms, where they can buy more grain. Once Naville has built its water projects and achieved self-sufficiency in agriculture and animal husbandry, the price of grain will also be under your control, and you will no longer be at the mercy of others.”

“Of course, that is another topic, one that I would be happy to discuss with you all, but it is getting late, and I plan to return to rest. Early tomorrow morning, I must head to the Misty Mountains to survey the terrain.” Victor announced his intention to leave.

“Wait, Lord Randall, I would like to ask one last question,” Grand Vizier Marquess Wolert stood up to detain him.

“Marquess, please ask.”

“In your opinion, are tenants the lord’s registered subjects or freemen?”

The previous discussion had been about the theory and practical application of the tenant system, but this question concerned its legal basis. If the legal issue could not be clarified, the tenant system would lose its foundation for promotion.

Victor blinked and said, “This question should be answered by His Excellency Vispucci.”

A flicker of excitement crossed the Cardinal’s eyes. He foresaw that with the successful implementation of the tenant system in the Naville diocese, the negative impact from his criticism of the Radiant Knights would be completely offset; his merits might even outweigh his faults. With Naville’s successful example, the Sasan Empire would also need to follow suit.

“All people who follow the obligation of contribution are lambs of the Lord and enjoy the right to be protected and redeemed.”

Vispucci said in a deep voice, “Refugees, freemen, and registered subjects are all concepts that formed later and are not in the specific text of the Radiant Code. How did freemen and refugees come to be? When lords and clergy lost the ability to protect and redeem the people, they became freemen and refugees. If the lords and clergy can effectively exercise their duties of protection and redemption, then whether they are tenants or refugees, they have an obligation of contribution to the lords and clergy.”

“What is secular belongs to the lord, and divine authority belongs to the Church. The lord has the right to enact secular laws to manage tenants, but the lord must ensure that the children of tenant households attend a school for general education free of charge, receiving a dual education from both the lord and the clergy.”

Earl Meitens was the first to jump in again, speaking loudly, “House Meitens will implement the tenant system and fully agrees that tenants’ children should receive a dual education. However, the form of this education in the schools for general education is open for discussion.”

“There is nothing to discuss!” Vispucci said decisively. “We will follow the model of the Randell diocese. Children from ages four to eight will be boarded at the school for general education free of charge. All expenses will be borne by the lord, and the Church will be responsible for dispatching some preparatory priests to serve as tutors and assist the lord in managing the schools.”

“No, no, where would I get that much grain to supply the children of tenant households?” Earl Meitens shook his head repeatedly.

“Meitens! Even if your brother were here, I’d still beat you so badly you’d be looking for your teeth on the floor!”

Vispucci flew into a rage. Tearing off his mask of scholarly gentility, he rolled up his sleeves and was about to advance on Earl Meitens. King Rex rushed forward to hold him back, but he still roared menacingly.

“Rex, let go of me! Let me teach this fool a lesson. The schools for general education are clearly to help lords convert refugees and cultivate proper subjects… and he dares to negotiate terms with me? Bah!” With that, he threw the coffee cup in his hand.

“That should still depend on each family’s actual situation… Old man, don’t go too far! I may not be able to beat you, but I can certainly outrun you!” Meitens, his own confidence clearly faltering, ducked behind other lords while still shouting defiantly.

This valiant and fierce scene left both Victor and Catherine dumbfounded.

“Cousin Victor, Lady Catherine, please forgive the display.” The Queen of Naville said with a gentle smile, showing not the slightest hint of embarrassment, clearly accustomed to such scenes.

“Your Majesty, this… perhaps we should take our leave now.”

Archbishop Vispucci pushed Rex away, straightened his vestments, and said to Victor with a kindly air, “Victor, I will have my carriage take you back to Dekeizer Manor.”

“Uh… that would be our honor.”

With the departure of Victor and Vispucci, the raucous tea party came to an end.

“All of you, go on back to sleep.”

Rex waved his hand impatiently, and Naville’s powerful lords left the reception hall, whispering amongst themselves. Queen Shatia smiled. “My dear, you have things to discuss with your advisors. I will take my leave first.”

The beautiful Queen of Naville led her attendants out through a side door. Rex sat down in Victor’s seat, took a parchment scroll from his pocket, placed it on the coffee table, and said with a shake of his head,

“Viscount Randell is unfathomable… but even the unfathomable must be plumbed. Tell me, why do you think he had me host this tea party and ask him those three questions?”

The court scholars looked at each other, all turning to the King’s chief strategist. Grand Vizier Marquess Wolert simply sipped his coffee slowly, as if he hadn’t heard the King’s question.

A young noble scholar was the first to speak. “Viscount Randell is, of course, helping us implement the tenant system. If our internal development strategy fails, we will inevitably have to push our expansion into the Northern Wildlands prematurely to occupy the fertile red soil. The Kingdom of Gambia clearly does not want us to completely align with the Radiant Knights and the Sasan Empire.”

“I know that. What I’m asking is, what is Viscount Randell’s personal intention? He may be helping us, but there’s no need for him to be this enthusiastic.”

Wolert set down his coffee cup and sighed. “Viscount Randell is a man of immense talent; I cannot fathom his thoughts. However, he does remind me of someone.” After saying this, he lowered his eyelids and fell silent.

A thought struck Rex, and he instructed his other advisors, “All of you may go back to sleep as well.”

The advisors filed out through the main door. Once they had all left the reception hall, Rex turned to his Grand Vizier and asked, “Who did you think of? Noblewoman Arya?”

“Noblewoman Arya created the vassalage system. Her wisdom and knowledge were certainly top-tier, but she was only a senior knight who served as a priestess at the Ivory Sanctum’s Monastery. Whereas Viscount Randell has the Saint realm potential of Sword Saint Draven… Though His Majesty Draven was a Sanctuary-rank expert, at heart he was a free-spirited Ranger, not a lord.”

Marquess Wolert shook his head and continued, “In all of history, only one person has possessed outstanding wisdom, extraordinary power, and formidable influence all at once.”

Rex sucked in a sharp breath, his voice low and powerful. “The first Pope, Inoc!”

Wolert pondered for a moment, then nodded. “Viscount Randell cannot yet compare to the first Pope, but he undoubtedly shares Inoc’s three characteristics.”

Rex stood up and paced back and forth in the room a few times before stopping. “The fundamental difference between them is that Viscount Randell stands from the perspective of a secular lord!”

“Is that why His Holiness Clement wishes to elevate Viscount Randell to the position of a Saint?”

“Yes. A kite cherishes its feathers, while a crow forages among carrion. The first Pope’s character was beautified by the adoration of all. A Saint Randell, of course, would not be able to simply do as he pleases.”

Chapter 510: Bestowing Gifts

Before dawn the next day, the Naville Royal Family dispatched the Palace Steward to deliver a magnificent gift to Viscount Randell. As if on cue, the titled nobles of Korgeston also sent their stewards, gift lists in hand, to call upon the viscount.

In no time, the once-secluded Dekeizer Manor was bustling with activity. The line of carriages bearing gifts stretched from the manor’s main gate all the way to the edge of the orchard.

Victor, of course, did not need to personally receive the lords’ stewards and attendants, but his planned departure from the city that morning had to be postponed until the afternoon.

Near noon, Catherine and Countess Ariel, having attended a morning tea party hosted especially for them by Queen Shatia, arrived at the standalone villa where Victor was staying. They found the great hall filled with chests of all sizes. Viscount Randell’s personal handmaiden was directing attendants to inventory the gifts before sorting and repacking them.

Piles of gold, gemstones, black-glazed rock statues, weapons and armor, amber, beast hides and horns, silks, and element crystals were laid out on the floor, dazzling the Queen Mother of Gambis.

“Reno, Shak, move the Adamantine, gemstones, and element crystals to the room on the left, and arrange for the family’s Personal Guard to watch over them in shifts… The amber, beast hides, and silk need to be protected from moisture. Wrap them in oilcloth first, then put them in the storeroom on the right… Caligula! Who told you to carry the black-glazed rock statue? Put it down, gently, don’t damage it… You’re responsible for moving the packed gold to the room on the right… Oh, Supreme Lord above, you’re taking… Never mind, be careful not to drop it on your feet!”

The giant-like Caligula effortlessly lifted two iron chests and strode towards the corridor behind the living room. Catherine estimated that if the chests were full of gold, they had to weigh at least 800 pounds.

As Caligula left the great hall, Elina finally noticed Catherine and Countess Ariel. She quickly curtsied and said, flustered, “My Lady Catherine, good day. Countess Ariel, good day… My Lady, I’m so sorry, I didn’t notice you had returned.”

Elina’s hair was elegantly pinned up, her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes sparkled with countless tiny lights. Catherine glanced around the brilliant, dazzling living room and thought, It would be strange if you had noticed me any sooner.

“There is no need for such ceremony. Where is Victor?” the Queen Mother asked coolly.

“My lord is in the study on the second floor, replying to the great families according to the gift lists.”

Elina’s face was a picture of distress as she said, “So many gifts… We don’t even know what to give in return.”

Catherine looked at the upturned corners of her mouth and nodded silently. “I will go see him.” With that, she tapped her way up to the second floor, crossed the corridor, and stopped before the study, raising a hand to knock on the door.

“Come in.”

Catherine pushed the door open, her heart instantly warming at the sight of her beloved sitting behind the desk, as exquisite as a work of art. The gloom brought on by the Naville nobles’ extravagant “bribes” to a Highness of Gambis vanished without a trace. She raised her hands to undo her coronet and hairpins, gave her head a gentle shake, and her flaxen hair cascaded down to her waist like a waterfall. Her stiletto heels tapped out an alluring, elegant rhythm as she walked to Victor’s side and asked in a honeyed voice, “Darling, what are you looking at?”

“I was just looking at the original designs for the water project… Now, I’m only looking at you.” Victor set down his quill, reached out, and pulled his noble lover onto his lap. Before he could say anything more, a cascade of sweet nothings was silenced by a soft, fragrant little tongue in his throat.

Catherine cupped her paramour’s fine, smooth cheeks and kissed him for a long time. Finally satisfied, she took a breath and purred with a laugh, “The gifts from the Naville nobles have your personal handmaiden overjoyed, but what do you plan to give in return?”

“Return gifts? There is no need for them. Compared to the wealth I am bringing them, their gifts can only be described as meager.”

Victor smiled faintly, took a scroll from a drawer, and said, “Darling, this is the gift list Elina compiled. See if there is anything you like. I’ll let you pick first… If nothing catches your eye, you might as well wait until this afternoon. More people will be coming with gifts then.”

Catherine took the scroll. A quick glance was enough for her eyes to go wide, despite all she had seen during her years in Aerie Fortress. She covered her mouth and gasped, “So much?” Then, as she read it more carefully, her lovely willow-leaf brows slowly furrowed. Finally, she lowered the scroll, lifted her eyes to Victor, and sighed, “The gifts from the Naville Royal Family alone are worth four hundred thousand Gold Sols. All the gifts together are probably over seven hundred thousand.”

“It’s not that much,” Victor said with a restrained smile that concealed his pride. “Some gifts are priceless and have no market, the purity of the gold is inconsistent, and while the Adamantine, white crystals, green-veined amber, spider silk, and beast hides can be accurately valued… the total is probably around three hundred thousand Gold Sols.”

Catherine didn’t know whether to laugh or be angry. “…They’re helping you build up the resources and heritage of the House of Randell. This favor could be worth a million Gold Sols, for all we know.”

The gifts the Rex family had sent Victor included ten pounds of Adamantine, two top-tier element crystals of each of the four types, one hundred top-tier raw gemstones, fifty white crystals, two hides of a Centaur Centurion, and thirty thousand gold coins.

The Royal Family being the first to send a gift also set the upper limit for what the titled nobles could bestow. Lords with deep resources and heritage offered rare treasures from their family collections, those in slightly worse condition sent specialty products from their territories and gold coins, and families in dire financial straits simply sent gold ingots as gifts.

Victor had received 1.1 tons of gold ingots alone, along with another fifteen pounds of Adamantine, countless raw gemstones, element crystals, white crystals, and amber. He had a full cart of beast hides and spider silk, eighteen crafted statues, four sets of ceremonial armor, seventeen Adamantine longswords, and forty thousand gold coins.

Of these, only the gold coins, Adamantine, white crystals, and amber could be considered hard currency. The prices of things like gold, raw gemstones, element crystals, crafted statues, armor, and swords were uncertain. For instance, only Gold Knights could release the elemental power within top-tier element crystals, but Gold Knights were even rarer than the crystals themselves. They did not lack such items, much less need to buy them. Top-tier element crystals were almost impossible to liquidate; using them to curry favor with a Gold Knight was merely icing on the cake, a welcome but unessential flourish.

The market prices for raw gemstones and works of art had no standard; the general rule was that the larger the supply, the less they were worth. And without minting rights, the 1.1 tons of gold ingots could only be sold at twenty percent of their value, so it was best to treat them as decorative material.

What Victor found most regrettable were five top-tier fire element crystals. He desperately wanted to use them to construct an element Furnace, but they were all recorded on the gift list. Not wanting to expose the secret of the fire element Furnace, he could only use them to try and win Sylvia’s favor.

If all these gifts were sold as a lot, fetching three hundred thousand Gold Sols would be a stretch. But as Catherine said, if the gifts were considered part of the treasury and heritage of the House of Randell, then the greater Victor’s fame grew, the more priceless they would become.

Unfortunately, the Alchemy Tower disregarded the noble circle’s methods of calculating the value of favors. To it, beautiful gemstones and finely carved black-glazed rock were still just broken rocks… It would have been more practical to just give gold coins… or even to have exchanged it all for lesser fire element crystals!

At this moment, Victor was feeling particularly frustrated. Catherine’s mood was also quite complex. After a moment of silence, she bit her lip and said, “You just arrived in Naville, handed a letter to the Liaison Officer, and it was to have Rex host last night’s tea party? And today, they send you these magnificent gifts…”

“Knowledge is wealth.”

Victor neither confirmed nor denied it, instead turning the question. “Darling, why was King Rex the first to send me a gift?”

“If he hadn’t, the other lords would have rushed to do so. By going first, he ensures no one can give more than the king,” Catherine said with a light laugh. “The King is the leader, after all.”

“Correct, but incomplete.” Victor nodded with a smile and picked up the original designs for the water project from the desk, handing them to Catherine. “Take a look at this.”

Catherine studied the blueprints for a while, then looked up, confused. “I don’t really understand water projects… Naville’s water projects seem to be concentrated in the central region of the kingdom, deliberately ignoring the southern lords.”

“This design document is actually the Rex family’s industrial layout for the Kingdom of Naville,” Victor said with a nod. “Boulderhold hopes the central lords of Naville can develop irrigated agriculture and animal husbandry to achieve food self-sufficiency, thereby reducing the burden on the Northern Basin. But the southern families’ territories are too far from Korgeston. If they also lead their vassal armies back to their lands to develop their own water projects, it won’t be easy for Rex to mobilize the south’s power again.”

“So, King Rex is bribing me with lavish gifts, hoping I’ll adjust the water hubs according to his design and not overturn his industrial layout.” Victor smiled and asked in return, “Aerie Fortress doesn’t need to bribe me, and I’m still willing to contribute my strength to Gambis. But Gambis’s industrial structure is generally in a reasonable state, with agriculture, mining, handicrafts, and commerce all in place and no obvious weaknesses. What lord there would welcome me pointing fingers at his internal construction?”

Catherine smiled sweetly, resting her head on Victor’s shoulder. She said in a coquettish tone, “Darling, I’m just a little jealous… You are a Highness of Gambis, after all.”

Victor stroked Catherine’s hair and smiled. “A Highness of Gambis cannot sit by and watch an ally struggle… nor can he be completely guileless.”

“Lady Dori has close ties with the Naville Royal Family, and although the Dekeizer family is young, they are Rex’s designated leader for the southern families. I can help Lady Dori design a water system that, in turn, will cut off her trade route with the Randt Imperial territory.”

Catherine asked in surprise, “That can’t be easy, can it? I imagine Lady Dori would rather give up the water project than lose the trade route connecting to the Randt Imperial territory.”

“It’s not easy… but it is simple,” Victor said with a confident smile. “The water project designed for Naville by the Silver Spire has a flaw: they didn’t consider firebreaks.”

“Firebreaks?”

Victor explained, “The spread of wildfire is a terrible disaster for forested mountain regions. Because vegetation grows lushly during the Seasons of Earth and Fire, and the weather is damp and cold during the Season of Water, the chance of a forest fire is low. But during the Season of Wind, man-made fires are often difficult to control. So, every Season of Wind, the mountain lords send out rangers to catch poachers. As the population grows denser and human activity in the mountains increases, relying solely on rangers to monitor and prevent fires is not enough. This necessitates the creation of special clearings, reservoirs, and channels for fire prevention, containment, and extinguishing. I can first help Lady Dori design a water system that satisfies her, and then use the firebreaks to sever the Dekeizer family’s trade route with the Randt Imperial territory.”

Catherine was overjoyed, her laughter like a string of bells. “Darling, you’re so clever.”

“Don’t celebrate too early,” Victor said, shaking his head with a serious expression. “This little trick could lead to worse consequences… At the ball yesterday, Queen Shatia told me that Princess Shireen of the Kingdom of Sus is interested in having Raymond Peter of the Kingdom of Borea marry into her family.”

Catherine nodded, hesitating before she spoke. “I’ve heard about this… The Radiant Knights have transferred ten thousand Temple Army soldiers from the Twilight Forest defensive line. The military pressure on Duke Meiding, the great lord of the north in the Kingdom of Sus, has doubled. He plans to form a marriage alliance with the Peter family of Borea to support Princess Shireen’s first-in-line succession right, thereby facilitating a military alliance between the Kingdom of Sus and the Kingdom of Borea.”

“What benefit is there for the Kingdom of Borea to send troops to help Sus defend against the Gnolls of the Twilight Forest? Could it be that the Boreans can use the marriage of Shireen and Raymond to annex the Kingdom of Sus?” Victor asked, raising an eyebrow.

Catherine was startled. After a moment of thought, she frowned and asked, “You mean… the Boreans want to use the Kingdom of Sus as a springboard to cooperate with Neowist and build a port on Lake Fies?”

Victor nodded, then shook his head. “When Shatia talked to me about Shireen’s marriage, I thought she was acting as a lobbyist for House Elayanuo… But how could the Queen of Naville truly be considering the interests of the Kingdom of Sus? The Kingdom of Borea’s agriculture depends on the breadfruit trees of the Seven Great Islands. They don’t have the natural conditions to develop New Agro-husbandry, which means there’s no possibility of expanding their army. And on the far shore of the Seven Great Islands is a powerful Barbarian Kingdom. On what grounds could the Boreans defeat them? But if the Boreans build a few ports along the rivers of the Kingdom of Sus and on the shore of Lake Fies, their fleet could sail west for thousands of kilometers with the wind, land on the South Shore of Lake Fies, bypass the main forces of the Barbarian Kingdom, and pioneer the Southern Continent.”

“The Boreans are overreaching. The people of Naville aren’t happy about it. They also want a port on the shores of Lake Fies to serve as a retreat.” Victor sneered. “Assuming Neowist chooses to cooperate with the Kingdom of Borea, how should we in Gambis react?”

Catherine stood up from Victor’s lap and walked to the window. With her back to him, she said softly, “Naturally, we wait for Neowist to land on the Southern Continent, then find an opportunity to annihilate him.”

“Besides hatred, there are interests,” Victor said coolly. “Neowist plus the Kingdom of Borea would be enough to challenge our pioneering rights on the Southern Continent. Because we would both be landing on the South Shore of Lake Fies, we would be too close to each other, our strengths would be comparable, and there is hatred between us. War would be inevitable.”

“The best way for the Kingdom of Borea to maintain peace with us while pioneering the Southern Continent would be to sell out Neowist. Neowist must surely doubt whether the Boreans would go to war with Gambis for his sake. I believe Neowist is equally unwilling to choose the Kingdom of Borea as an ally.”

“Neowist plans to win over the Kingdom of Naville. Has he abandoned the papal line?” Catherine asked.

“I’m afraid so,” Victor said with a nod. “Naville’s strategic focus is on the Northern Wildlands, and the Rex family has close ties with the Curia. If Neowist allies with the Kingdom of Naville, he poses no threat to us, and with the Curia mediating, we would truly have no excuse to cause him trouble.”

“I understand… Not no excuse, but no need.” Catherine’s shoulders trembled slightly, but she quickly regained her composure. She turned around, gave Victor a beautiful smile, and said, “Dear Your Highness Randell, what is your opinion?”

“I have no opinion. I am only stating the current situation.” Victor shook his head. “As a legendary powerhouse, Neowist will definitely build a port. If he cooperates with the Boreans, we will have another competitor on Lake Fies.”

Catherine’s eyes darted. “Darling,” she chided playfully, “as a Highness of Gambis, you have a responsibility to offer counsel to the kingdom.”

Victor shook his head and chuckled. “Alright. My advice is to find a way to sabotage the marriage alliance between the Meiding family and the Peter family, to prevent Borea’s fleet from entering Lake Fies. Naville’s strategic focus is in the north, not the south, so their support for Neowist will be limited. They can’t possibly throw all their weight behind helping him wipe out the Fishmen of Lake Fies. They will have to rely on the power of Gambis to have any chance of building a port on its shores. We can launch a feint against the Fishmen at the mouth of Lake Fies, giving Neowist a glimmer of hope that he can build his port, and keep stringing him along, continuously draining his effective strength.”

“Of course, once Naville completes its internal consolidation, they will still send a mercenary legion and craftsmen to help Neowist build his port, but that will be more than ten years from now. By then, Gambis’s warships will have been built and launched, and we will have sufficient power to control the entire waterway of Lake Fies.”

“Delaying their port construction and southern expansion is indeed a viable strategy,” Catherine nodded. After a moment’s hesitation, she added, “The problem is, I’m afraid it will be very difficult for us to disrupt the marriage alliance between Borea and Sus… If it were an ordinary family alliance, it would be one thing, but Sus needs to borrow the Kingdom of Borea’s strength to defend against the Gnolls of the Twilight Forest. This kind of political marriage is very stable.”

Victor tapped his fingers on the desk and shook his head. “The Kingdom of Naville is the power that most wants to disrupt this political marriage. I have a feeling they must have a backup plan.”

“I hope so,” Catherine sighed. “I’ll write a letter to Aerie Fortress first.”

Chapter 511: Leveraging the Faction

By the time the House of Randell’s attendants had finally finished sorting the hall full of treasures, it was nearly noon. A relaxed Elina then realized she had yet to arrange for the day’s lunch.

Everyone sorting the treasure was so caught up in their excitement that they wouldn’t have noticed if they had gone a whole day without food or sleep. But the lord’s personal handmaiden should not lose her composure in the face of treasure. It would make the House of Randell’s resources and heritage seem shallow… even if that was indeed the case.

Elina had received strict etiquette training at Rose Manor and was perfectly capable of upholding the dignity of a minor family. But she was, after all, a beautiful young woman. Seeing so many sparkling treasures for the first time, she had blissfully lost track of time, just like a country lord’s wife who had never seen the world.

Oh, how embarrassing, how rude… Why didn’t anyone remind me? Especially that big oaf. Usually, his stomach rumbles like thunder if he’s even a little hungry, but today, not a peep. It’s infuriating… Ashamed and annoyed, Elina glared fiercely at Caligula, stomped her foot, and said petulantly, “Caligula, you don’t get any lunch today!”

Caligula blinked, watching Lady Elina’s retreating back. He scratched the back of his head and asked Klaus with an innocent look, “Why did My Lady say I don’t get lunch?”

“Maybe… perhaps… Oh, I don’t know either.” Klaus spread his hands and suggested, “Why don’t we have Brandon ask her?”

“Get lost! Why don’t you go ask?” Brandon shot Klaus a furious glare.

The two immediately launched into their daily squabble, while the others watched in amusement. Only Caligula was left to his lonely sorrow.

He was truly wronged. Ever since he had trained the Gryphon Combat Technique to the third level, he not only no longer suffered from a rumbling stomach, but he had even stopped snoring in his sleep. According to Tournans’ martial arts theory, Caligula had already gained preliminary control over his inner potential and was just a step away from simulating the Bloodlust and berserk talents. He could now go ten days or half a month without eating and still maintain a vigorous and energetic body.

But eating was his only hobby!

Though time was short, the House of Randell’s master chef was highly skilled, with deft knife work, and the ingredients were well-prepared. Once they received Elina’s menu, they quickly whipped up a simple yet exquisite meal.

Of course, the attendants could only gather around the dining table in the back hall, chewing on dry bread and cursing the big oaf. When Caligula helped bring the large pot over, not a single drop of the wheat and meat porridge was left inside.

Victor paid no attention to the small interlude among the attendants. He was accompanying Catherine and Ariel for lunch.

The Queen Mother’s bearing was natural and elegant, her dining etiquette flawlessly perfect, yet Victor could clearly sense the turmoil in her heart.

Catherine was already captivated and mesmerized by the wisdom and insight her beloved displayed. She was more than half-convinced by his judgment that the Boreans were plotting for a port on Lake Fies, and it filled her with anxiety.

In truth, Victor’s analysis had no irrefutable evidence; it was purely far-fetched speculation and could not be taken as fact. He was taking advantage of the Queen Mother’s not circulating her Aura, which made her emotions particularly easy to influence.

Rex was using the water project to restructure the Kingdom of Naville’s industrial framework. Victor had his own plans as well, but his target was not a single kingdom. Instead, he intended to use The Golden Company as a tool to integrate the resources of all the human kingdoms.

Victor’s original intention in forming The Golden Company was to realize the House of Randell’s Northward and Eastward Advance strategy.

The Randell Fief was located in the southwestern borderlands of the human kingdoms. To its east was Lizard Marsh, to the south the Goldwater River, to the west the southern territories of Gambis, and to the north the duchy of York. Although Victor currently seemed to wield great power in the Kingdom of Gambia, the reality was that his fief’s remote geographical location meant that the transport of people and goods for the House of Randell was constrained by external powers. The Kingdom of Gambia could blockade the Randell Fief’s borders at any time, leaving the House of Randell’s raw sugar, grain, and other goods to rot in warehouses, thereby forcing Victor to surrender the vast majority of his profits.

If the situation developed to that point, Victor would have only two choices: war or surrender.

War was always a lord’s last resort. Both victor and vanquished would suffer heavy losses, benefiting only the onlookers. Victor was unwilling to start a war lightly, nor was he willing to surrender meekly. Under the circumstances at the time, the idea of forming a smuggling caravan had occurred to him, which eventually crystallized into the strategic vision of The Golden Company’s Northward and Eastward Advance.

The Northward Advance strategy included opening a trade route through the Dodor Kingdom, the Kingdom of Naville, the Warton Great Plains, and the Sasan Empire, which was now being implemented by Sophia.

The Golden Company’s Eastward Advance strategy could no longer be left to Sophia. Victor had to control the trade route from west to east himself to counterbalance Sophia’s influence over The Golden Company. Otherwise, the logistics and flow of people in the Randell Fief would be at the mercy of Marchioness Wimbledon.

The Goldwater River flowed from west to east, passing through Gambis, the Randt Imperial territory, the Theocracy of Ayr, the Kingdom of Sus, the Eastern Alliance, and the Borrey United Kingdom—a total of six major powers. By developing shipping on the Goldwater River, Victor could immediately break the Randell Fief’s marginalized position. The House of Randell’s large merchant ships, laden with goods, could sail downstream directly to the ports of the Borrey United Kingdom. When the Season of Wind arrived, they could sail back upstream, transporting supplies back to the Randell Fief.

No power could restrict the House of Randell’s shipping trade, because no one could contend with Thorium warships on the water. However, the monsoon season that supported upstream navigation lasted only four months, which was not long enough for Victor’s merchant fleet to return to the Randell Fief from the distant Great Borean Bend.

Shipping on the Goldwater River would inevitably adopt a relay-style transport model, making the construction of ports for ships to dock a crucial part of The Golden Company’s Eastward Advance strategy.

The first transit port Victor envisioned was on the North Shore of Lake Fies, the largest known lake in the human world.

The conditions at Lake Fies were simply too good. The House of Randell’s fleet could set out from Port Rose and, after drifting downstream for a little over ten days, enter the wide, calm waters of Lake Fies. The fleet could drop anchor to cast nets and fish, or weigh anchor and sail south into the tributaries of the Southern Continent. If the fleet docked at a port on the North Shore, goods from the Centaur Hills could be radiated out to the Theocracy of Ayr and the Randt Imperial territory, and even flow directly into the Kingdom of Naville through Lady Dori’s fief. Continuing east, the fleet would pass through the Kingdom of Sus and the Eastern Alliance, reaching the mouth of the Goldwater River where the Borrey United Kingdom was located.

Given the immense importance of Lake Fies, Victor was desperate to control a transit port on its North Shore.

Victor had designated the construction of a port on the North Shore of Lake Fies as a key part of The Golden Company’s Eastward Advance. As the saying goes, one judges others by one’s own standards; he feared that other powers were also eyeing Lake Fies. Therefore, when Lady Dori mentioned that Dekeizer Earldom bordered the Randt Imperial territory, and Shatia revealed the marriage alliance between Sus and the Kingdom of Borea, the two matters might not have been truly connected. But the first thing Victor thought of was the issue of a port on Lake Fies.

In reality, for thousands of years, the lords of the various kingdoms had been keen on expanding their lands; they had not yet clearly recognized the immense advantages of shipping trade. For example, both the East and West Noir Rivers in Gambis had the hydrological conditions for navigation, but the floating bridges, ropeway bridges, and stone arch bridges built by lords had effectively choked off the Brinol waterway. Even the Kingdom of Borea, which occupied The Seven Great Islands, limited its shipping activities to short-distance transport of goods between islands or between islands and coastal ports.

At present, long-distance trade on the Goldwater River existed only in Victor’s mind; neither the Knight-Nobles nor the clergy had any concept of it.

However, past experience told Victor that Knight-Nobles were strong learners with sharp judgment. If they saw Victor doing something beneficial to his family, they would immediately imitate and improve upon it without a day’s delay. For things that offered no benefit, they would rather crane their necks and watch the show.

Take papermaking, for example. The House of Randell’s technology for making straw paper was relatively mature, but the cost of producing writing paper remained high. Victor had hoped other lords would invest manpower and resources to advance papermaking techniques, but no one had responded. Now that Victor had introduced the Mutual Aid Voucher lottery, other lords were finally beginning to build their own paper workshops.

With the lords being so cunning, it was no wonder Victor was always suspicious. He believed that the moment he showed the slightest sign of his intentions, the major powers would immediately jump out to compete with him for control of the Goldwater River shipping, and a port on the North Shore of Lake Fies would bear the brunt of it.

Ultimately, this was all a result of the disparity in family resources and heritage. The thousand-year-old great houses possessed complete artisan foundations, independent research systems, mature networks of connections, complex webs of marriage alliances, and well-trained spies. They could imitate all of Viscount Randell’s administrative measures and inventions—papermaking, shipbuilding, and port construction were no exception.

The House of Randell had only one marriage alliance, with the York family. Although Victor had created the Quicksilver spy network, he was completely in the dark when it came to high society. He had no way to verify the inside intelligence others gave him and had to rely entirely on his own guesswork, making him particularly susceptible to being misled and exploited.

Victor couldn’t confirm whether Lady Dori had vested interests with Neovys. He also couldn’t be certain if the marriage alliance between Princess Shireen of Sus and Raymond Peter of the Kingdom of Borea meant that the Boreans had designs on Lake Fies.

What Victor could be sure of was that if he were in the position of the Kingdom of Borea or Naville, he would definitely seize control of a port on the North Shore of Lake Fies. But he was a Highness of the Kingdom of Gambia, and Gambia had drafted a plan for southern expansion, already viewing Lake Fies as its own backyard. It would absolutely not welcome the warships of other kingdoms into its waters.

Therefore, Victor clearly expressed his stance to Catherine: Gambis should build a port at the mouth of Lake Fies. If Auguste still clung to the idea of not letting Emperor Lant benefit, then he should assemble an army at the mouth of Lake Fies to create a military deterrent against the Randt Imperial territory. This would make the other kingdoms recognize the grim situation and prevent them from actually reaching for Lake Fies.

In short, the plan was to stall. Use every means possible to delay the plans of external powers regarding Lake Fies, stalling until Gambis’s warships were launched, stalling until The Golden Company built a port on the North Shore of Lake Fies!

While the House of Randell was still fledgling, Auguste’s resources and heritage were deep. Matters that Victor found difficult, Auguste could accomplish with ease. Catherine had just written a letter to Aerie Fortress, asking Auguste to investigate. Victor would soon have the relevant details to see if his judgment was correct. If his suspicions were true, Aerie Fortress would naturally use its diplomatic resources to obstruct the intentions of the Naville people or the Boreans.

Victor didn’t need to worry about the specific actions Aerie Fortress would take.

Viscount Randell had only to move his lips, and the Queen Mother of Gambis would fret over it. This was the influence a Highness had on a kingdom.

After lunch, Victor returned to his bedroom and changed into his two-headed Dragon-Lizard leather armor, preparing to set off for the Misty Mountains to survey the terrain for Naville’s main canal. When Victor came out, Catherine’s beautiful eyes sparkled. She came forward, took his hand, and said affectionately,

“Darling, this is the first time I’ve seen you in battle armor… you look absolutely captivating.”

Victor’s full-body armor, made from the hide of a two-headed Dragon-Lizard, had been personally designed by Sylvia. It fit his body lines perfectly, outlining the tall, well-proportioned figure of a Moon Elf with a narrow waist and long legs. The bluish-black exterior had a metallic sheen, flawlessly blending yin and yang into a unique temperament, like an Adamantine longsword in its scabbard—deeply reserved, its sharpness concealed.

Countess Ariel stared at Victor for a long while, a look of astonishment in her eyes. She couldn’t help but tease, “Lord Randell, I heard that Gold rank Gnoll is still wandering the mountains of Naville… Do you need my personal protection?”

“There’s no need to worry about my safety, especially in the wilderness.”

Victor smiled slightly, looked down at Catherine, and said, “I have Father Dayn with me, and Archbishop Vispucci has sent three high-ranked Adjudicators to protect me. If we still run into Windfang, it just means our luck is good, and we are destined for renown.”

“But you need a handmaiden to tend to your daily needs.”

Catherine said softly, “Darling, Ariel is a silver female knight. She also took care of you when you were at Aerie Fortress. Just let her accompany you.”

Victor was at a loss for whether to laugh or cry. He shook his head and said, “There’s really no need… When I was pestering the Ant-men in the Randell Fief, I was surrounded by clumsy mountain folk hunters. Darling, I’m not who I used to be. Don’t think of me as so delicate.”

It’s precisely because you’re not who you used to be that I worry some people will find you too “delicate and delicious”… Catherine sighed inwardly. She maintained her respect for a Highness and took a subordinate position, not voicing her inner worries. If it had been Sylvia, she wouldn’t have had so many reservations and would have said what needed to be said.

This was, perhaps, the difference between a lover and a wife.

Catherine gently fastened the cloak to Victor’s pauldrons, carefully adjusting the details of his attire until she was satisfied. Then, she said with a smile,

“Darling, I’ll wait here for you to return. But you can’t keep me waiting too long… you must come back to see me once every four months. Otherwise, I’ll come find you myself.”

“I promise to do as you wish, my beautiful Majesty.”

Victor took a step back, gave Catherine a court attendant’s bow, and smiled. “If all goes well, I should be able to finish all my work and return to your side before this year’s rainy season arrives.”

Catherine nodded, took Victor’s arm, and asked as they walked outside, “Who are you planning to take with you?”

“Naturally, the attendants and Personal Guard of the House of Randell and the Knights from Rose Manor, plus the clergy from the Church. Fifty people in total. Elina and the handmaidens from Silver Moon Manor will stay at Dekeizer Manor. While I’m away, I’ll have to ask you to help look after them.”

“I will.”

Catherine accompanied Victor outside, where the attendants and Personal Guard of the House of Randell were already assembled and ready to depart. Father Dayn approached with a high-ranked Sacred Warrior with brown hair and blue eyes, introducing him enthusiastically, “Lord Randell, Lady Catherine, this is Deputy Commander Dietmar of the Templars.”

“Her Majesty Auguste, good day. Your Excellency Randell, good day.”

The Sacred Warrior stepped forward to salute. He looked to be about thirty years old, with a handsome face and a fit physique. The skin on his hands was smooth and delicate, not rough at all—a clear sign of a Knight. Six dark gold stripes were painted on his left pauldron, signifying his status as a Sixth-level Sacred Warrior.

Catherine was visibly moved. Lifting her skirt, she curtsied to the Sacred Warrior. “Lord Dietmar, good day.”

The extraordinary power of a Sixth-level Sacred Warrior was on par with that of a veteran Silver Knight, and when paired with a level four priest, they could unleash the combat power of a Gold Knight. Moreover, Sixth-level Sacred Warriors were rare, of high rank and authority, and their social status was equivalent to that of a Gold Knight. they were either deputy commanders in the Temple Army or served as commanders of the Templars in the Curia. Most importantly, the vast majority of Sixth-level Sacred Warriors were Knight-Nobles; only the life force of a Knight could allow a Sacred Warrior to be promoted to a sixth-rank clergyman.

Catherine paid her respects to Dietmar with the etiquette reserved for a High-ranked Knight, in accordance with the traditions of extraordinary individuals.

Victor noticed the closeness between Dayn and Dietmar and instantly understood. This Deputy Commander of the Templars was likely one of Clement’s confidants.

“Lord Dietmar, it is an honor to meet you.” Victor also stepped forward and returned a Knight’s salute. “You can call me Victor.”

“Alright, Victor. You may also call me by my name,” Dietmar said with a nod and a smile. He spoke directly, “I am under orders from His Holiness the Pontiff to protect you during your time in Naville. His Eminence Clement has given instructions that I am not to interfere with your actions.”

Effective protection naturally requires interfering with the protected target’s actions. Not interfering is called cooperation… Dietmar’s words seem to have a deeper meaning… Victor pondered for a moment, then said with a smile, “I’m going to get my mount. He has a foul temper and never obeys anyone’s commands except for mine and Sylvia’s. Please excuse me for a moment.” After speaking, he led Catherine towards the stables behind the villa.

The dire Swiftbird, Hercules, saw his master approaching and lowered his head, making a friendly cooing sound in his throat. Victor stroked Hercules’s blue neck feathers, led him out of the stable, and asked Catherine in a low voice, “Darling, do you know Dietmar? Which Paladin family is he from?”

“This is my first time meeting Deputy Commander Dietmar as well… I know the reputation of all the Sixth-level Sacred Warriors.” Catherine shook her head. “The Templars have one commander and three deputies, for a total of four. Tournans and Dietmar are the Pontiff’s confidants, while the other two are Patriarch Tamor’s men. None of them have blood ties to the Paladin families. The Sixth-level Sacred Warriors in the Temple Army, however, are almost all from Paladin families.”

“Darling, what are you thinking?” Catherine’s eyes flashed as she asked softly.

“Tournans is in the Northern Wildlands. His Eminence Clement has now sent Dietmar here to protect me. The Pontiff has no more Sixth-level Sacred Warriors available to him… don’t you find that odd?”

“You’re saying that Clement has heard a rumor that the Paladin families want to approach you privately?” Sharp as a tack, Catherine figured out the key point in an instant.

Victor nodded. “That’s a possibility.”

“Since the Pontiff has arranged for Lord Dietmar to accompany you, there’s nothing to worry about.” Catherine smiled gracefully and said tactfully, “I was originally thinking of having Aerie Fortress’s Mystic Warriors protect you… It seems that won’t be necessary.”

Originally I didn’t need protection, but now I do… Victor could tell this was her speaking in reverse. He mounted Hercules’s saddle and reached down to pull Catherine up behind him.

“The House of Randell has sworn fealty to the King of Gambis. Aerie Fortress naturally has an obligation to protect the safety of Viscount Randell.”

Catherine was overjoyed. She wrapped her arms around Victor’s waist and said softly, “Darling, I guarantee that Aerie Fortress’s Mystic Warriors will defend the will of Prince of the Kingdom Randell with their lives!”

Victor smiled without a word. This was the treatment a Prince of the Kingdom deserved. The internal conflicts of Gambis were resolved within their own faction; to the outside world, they were united.

The dire Swiftbird let out a long, clear cry, carrying the two of them towards the front courtyard. Catherine looked up from Victor’s embrace, her pretty face full of surprise.

“Hmm? Roland told me that besides Sylvia and you, Hercules never lets anyone else ride him. Roland grumbled to me for days because he couldn’t get a ride on the dire Swiftbird.”

“This fellow only listens to Sylvia’s commands when she’s around… When Sylvia’s not here, he listens to mine.”

Victor patted Hercules’s neck, speaking with considerable pride. Then he suddenly realized he probably only ranked a distant third in Hercules’s heart… after Sylvia came the little chubster, Beldina.

Chapter 512: Envy

The north-south running Misty Mountains lie to the east of the Kingdom of Naville, named for the dense forests and lush vegetation that keep them shrouded in clouds and mist year-round.

The climate of the mountain forests blessed the Misty Mountains with a diverse and vibrant natural environment. Coniferous forests, mixed forests, alpine meadows, lakes, and waterfalls intertwined to form a magnificent, poetic landscape. The valleys and low slopes were covered with all sorts of trees. Besides the common linden, oak, hemlock, spruce, and Korean pine, there were also nut-bearing forests of hornbeam, chestnut, and hazel, as well as dozens of varieties of berry plants.

The mountains were covered in lush grasslands, forming natural, high-quality pastures that were home to herds of Camelopes, yellow goats, short-tailed deer, wild bison, wild boars, and Giant Rhinoceros Beasts. There were also countless smaller herbivores like mountain hares, ground-rats, and ptarmigans. Of course, this meant there was no shortage of various birds of prey, ferocious beasts, and monster colonies.

The Misty Mountains were rich in flora and fauna, and also held astonishingly large reserves of high-quality mineral deposits. Mining and quarrying in this vast mountain forest had always been the main source of income for the south-central lords of the Kingdom of Naville. In particular, the Golden River Valley within the Misty Mountains was world-famous for its production of gold and blue diamonds.

Kajimorsen was the shortest and deepest valley in the Golden River Valley, only nineteen kilometers long and flanked by steep cliffs. After more than two hundred years of mining, the gold and blue diamond resources of the Kajimorsen Valley had been depleted. The people of Naville removed it from the list of Golden River Valley locations, renaming it the Kajimorsen Grand Canyon.

These days, no gold prospectors frequented Kajimorsen Grand Canyon. It was like a fallen, dilapidated family, neglected by all, its former glory a distant memory. A gentle stream flowed solitarily through the gravel and pebbles, and the occasional cry of a Mountain Ape from the cliff walls only made the place feel all the more desolate and barren.

A cavalry troop of several dozen men shattered the tranquility of the Kajimorsen Grand Canyon. They were fully armed, mounted on war beasts, and advancing deep into the canyon along the pebble-strewn riverbed.

Marquess Farul, a Gold Knight of the Kingdom of Naville, was at the very front of the troop. He was clad head to toe in gleaming mithril armor, and his mount was the Sword Mantis, a source of great pride for the people of Naville.

This aberrant war beast closely resembled a mantis magnified a hundred times over. Its body was slender and streamlined, its pair of forelimbs were like two sharp adamantine longswords that could easily pierce armor forged from refined iron. The ends of its lateral and hind limbs had grappling claws suited for vertical climbing, and its body was covered in an astonishingly strong and tough carapace. An initial-rank Knight would need to strike the same spot twice with an adamantine beheading sword just to have a chance of breaking a Sword Mantis’s natural shell. Its head was flat, its mandibles formed a mouthpart that looked like a giant pair of scissors, and a pair of antennae for sensing temperature and smell grew from its forehead. A pair of large, jet-black eyes were set in its face, making it look surprisingly cute and dopey. But upon closer inspection, one would find that these were actually compound eyes made up of countless smaller eyes, indicating it possessed the talent of Dynamic Vision. The fine hairs on its six limbs gave it a keen sense of touch, allowing it to even detect subtle changes in air currents.

Among the aberrant war beasts, the Sword Mantis was the lightest and had the weakest life force. It had no Burst ability and couldn’t jump. However, they ate relatively little, were adept at climbing over obstacles, excelled in both offense and defense, and possessed supersensory abilities, making them arguably the strongest aberrant war beast in terms of individual combat power. The downside was their low intelligence; they were incapable of tactical cooperation with their comrades. At the same time, this low intelligence also made them fearless and extremely difficult to deal with.

The entire troop consisted of only twenty-four Sword Mantis Knights; the other sixty men rode Swiftbird war beasts raised by the House of Randell. Marquess Farul was quite interested in these spirited, land-bound birds of prey, which were as large as warhorses. He was especially envious of the savage Swiftbird leader that Viscount Randell rode.

As a normal bird of prey, the Swiftbird’s physical attributes and combat strength were a level below the Sword Mantis’s. The straight-line distance from Korgeston to the Kajimorsen Grand Canyon was over four hundred kilometers. If the entire troop had ridden Sword Mantises, they could have departed in the morning and arrived at Kajimorsen that same night. But because the Swiftbirds’ stamina and rock-climbing abilities couldn’t match the Sword Mantises’, the troop had to bypass the steep and difficult shortcuts, taking thirteen days and traveling nearly a thousand kilometers to finally reach the Kajimorsen Grand Canyon.

For the Swiftbirds to cover an average of eighty kilometers of mountain forest per day was already an astonishing speed. The fastest forced march speed for Naville’s elite pony cavalry was only one hundred thirty kilometers.

One must understand that a forced march and normal travel were two completely different states.

At Marquess Farul’s request, Viscount Randell had demonstrated the forced march speed of his Swiftbird light cavalry. That day, they had traversed one hundred seventy kilometers of mountain roads, far exceeding the limits of the mountain ponies.

Naville’s mountain ponies also had the ability to climb up and down slopes, but they were a far cry from the Swiftbirds. As for combat strength, the ponies had none to speak of, whereas the Swiftbirds were as strong as bears, fierce in temperament, and capable of facing a common brown bear head-on. Along the way, the Swiftbird flock’s coordinated hunting of a wild bison left Naville’s Sword Mantis Knights in complete awe.

Coordinated combat with Sword Mantises? Such a thing was simply non-existent… During battle, a Sword Mantis had to remain within five hundred meters of its master; otherwise, it would basically become lost and unrecoverable. In fact, a Sword Mantis was several times more likely to get lost and go missing than to be killed in battle.

All other aberrant war beast knight orders had elite cavalry for support, except for the Sword Mantis Knights. This was because much of Naville’s terrain presented obstacles that mountain cavalry could not cross.

If Naville could acquire Swiftbird war beasts, it would shore up the Sword Mantis Knights’ greatest weakness. At the very least, they wouldn’t have to chase after their nearly-lost Sword Mantises on foot anymore.

With this thought in mind, Marquess Farul had been constantly observing Viscount Randell’s Swiftbird light cavalry. To his surprise, he discovered that the Swiftbird light cavalry already possessed the mature structure of a war beast cavalry unit.

Forming a combat-effective war beast cavalry unit was not as simple as just throwing cavalrymen and war beasts together. It required a mature and unique establishment capable of handling various emergencies, an orderly combination of factors including combat techniques, animal taming, horsemanship, tactical coordination, equipment, supplies, and maintenance.

More than half of the Swiftbird cavalry were Mystic Warriors from Rose Manor. This was nothing special; if one were to add up all the Mystic Warriors under the command of Naville’s lords, the total would easily exceed two thousand. The basic cavalrymen of the Sword Mantis Knights were also Mystic Warriors from the Rex family. What was truly outrageous was a unit like Gambis’s Glory Knights, where every single war beast cavalryman was an apprentice knight whose body had been shaped through divine arts.

The equipment on the Swiftbird cavalry made even Marquess Farul green with envy. They were uniformly outfitted with six-legged crocodile vine-hide armor, paired with adamantine scimitars, iron-oak round shields, refined steel one-handed spears, yew recurve war bows, and a crossbow. In terms of equipment quality, they were on par with the Sword Mantis cavalry.

Most crucially, the Swiftbirds were highly intelligent and had an emotional connection with their masters. They would seek praise from their masters when happy, spit at them when angry, and even cooperate in hunts and share their prey. This meant the Swiftbird light cavalry could execute a variety of brilliant tactics. For instance, the Swiftbirds could puff up their feathers to make themselves look bigger and emit threatening calls to attract a target’s attention, creating an opportunity for their riders to take a sneak shot with an arrow. Or, they could rapidly weave through the enemy’s ranks to disrupt their targeting and cover each other’s retreat. Or, they could scatter and flee, luring the enemy into pursuit, using their calls to transmit information and find opportunities to pick off their foes one by one.

Of course, predatory beasts that hunt in packs have similar skills, but integrating human soldiers into this was no simple feat. Marquess Farul first thought of the Radiant Church’s Horned Wolf cavalry. The Horned Wolf was the weakest individual aberrant war beast, yet the Horned Wolf cavalry was widely recognized as the strongest war beast legion, precisely because of their coordinated combat.

The Swiftbird light cavalry had a bit of the Horned Wolf cavalry’s flavor.

Farul couldn’t help but compare his Sword Mantis cavalry with the Swiftbird light cavalry as hypothetical enemies. The conclusion was both depressing and exciting. Without the involvement of High-ranked Knights, if fifty Swiftbird light cavalrymen engaged fifteen Sword Mantis Knights, the Swiftbird light cavalry would suffer heavy casualties, but the Sword Mantis Knights would be completely annihilated. With their masters gone, the Sword Mantises would inevitably wander off and get lost.

Without a doubt, Viscount Randell’s Swiftbird light cavalry was an elite war beast cavalry unit.

The House of Randell was only a few years old, yet it already possessed a war beast army?!

Farul couldn’t help but chuckle at his own astonishment. How many miracles had Viscount Randell created? Adding one more Swiftbird light cavalry unit to the list wasn’t much. Perhaps… no, not perhaps—he himself was the most eye-catching miracle of the current age.

I must give Rex an official counsel to find a way to import the Swiftbird light cavalry from the Centaur Hills… Just importing the Swiftbirds is useless. We must have the entire set of breeding methods, training methods, tactics, and the equipment plan for the light cavalry… But I can’t be too hasty. First, I’ll ask His Holiness the Pontiff to intercede. If that doesn’t work, I’ll negotiate directly with Sylvia. In short, I must try to bypass Viscount Randell in this matter… The commander of the Sword Mantis Knights schemed silently, his face a placid mask.

Victor had long sensed Marquess Farul’s designs on his Swiftbird light cavalry. As long as the people of Naville offered a price that satisfied him, he would consider selling the Swiftbirds. This was because Imoson the Wizard had already bred a fourth generation of Swiftbird chicks with much stronger bones. The Randall family’s Swiftbird war beasts would soon see an all-around upgrade, making the first three generations of ordinary Swiftbirds perfectly sellable. But he hadn’t anticipated that the Naville Gold Knight’s wariness of him already surpassed his wariness of Sylvia; Farul had no intention of discussing the acquisition of Swiftbirds with him at all.

Throughout the journey, Master Edwin had constantly pestered him with discussions on metaphysical theories of political economy. Victor was actually a pragmatist. Annoyed, he had casually offered Master Edwin a few pointers, which had unexpectedly left Marquess Farul with the impression that he was profound and inscrutable.

Until you’re fully prepared, don’t rush into negotiations with someone smarter than you.

The great nobles of Naville who had attended the midnight Tea Party at Boulderhold now all believed that the young Viscount Randell possessed a rare, extraordinary talent for wisdom.

The troop soon arrived at a fork in the Kajimorsen Valley. A one-hundred-meter-high cliff stood in the middle, splitting the valley in two, leading in different directions. Several mountain streams cascaded down the cliff like bolts of white silk, converging into a shallow pool at the bottom. Caligula suddenly ran out from the troop, dashed into the pool, bent down, and fumbled in the water for a moment before returning to Victor’s side, holding a round pebble. “Master, look! Aka found a treasure!” he said, as if presenting a prize.

The stone in Caligula’s hand was the size of a man’s head, covered in dark green moss. It looked unremarkable, just like an ordinary rock. Marquess Farul glanced at it, but then his gaze sharpened. His eyes lingered on Caligula’s large face for a moment before he said thoughtfully, “That should be yellow-glazed rock… Why not break it open and see?”

Dietmar, the Vice-Commander of the Templars, overheard and also came closer, looking at Caligula and the stone in his hand with a mixture of surprise and doubt. Seeing this, Victor nodded at Caligula. “Crack it open and let’s see.”

Caligula curled the index finger of his right hand and tapped the middle of the stone. The stone split open silently, revealing a crystalline, translucent yellow glaze. The Sixth-level Sacred Warrior couldn’t help but suck in a sharp breath, while Marquess Farul gave Caligula a deep look and said, “Moist and glossy, without a single flaw. This is top-tier yellow-glazed rock.”

Master Edwin reached out, took half of the yellow-glazed rock, and stroked the mirror-smooth cross-section. He nodded. “The quality is pure, truly rare. It could sell for at least thirty Gold Sols.”

Caligula grinned foolishly, scratching the back of his head. He asked in a booming voice, “The treasure Aka found, how many roasted wild bison legs can it be traded for?”

“Haha, you can’t even get one roasted bison leg for it. You can only get one ox tail,” Master Edwin said, winking mischievously, deliberately teasing Aka.

The big simpleton blinked and started to bargain. “I’ll give you the treasure, you give Aka two ox tails.”

“Aka, is this your treasure?” Victor reprimanded Caligula sternly, saying with a serious face, “This is the territory of the Kingdom of Naville. All treasures within the territory belong to the Kingdom of Naville. Give the yellow-glazed rock to His Highness Farul.”

As a lord himself, Victor naturally had to uphold the rules of a lord’s interests. Caligula timidly handed the remaining half of the yellow-glazed rock to Marquess Farul, mumbling, “I only have half left… Master Edwin snatched the other half.”

Edwin roared with laughter. “Aka, I didn’t snatch your yellow-glazed rock. I traded one ox tail for it. You even profited half an ox tail.”

Caligula quickly said to Farul, “Your Highness, wait for the Master to give me the ox tail, then I’ll give the ox tail to you.”

“Then wouldn’t you have lost half an ox tail?” Marquess Farul couldn’t help but smile. He took the yellow-glazed rock and said in a gentle tone, “How about this. You find another treasure, and this piece of yellow-glazed rock is yours.”

Seeing his master nod in silent approval, Caligula turned and walked into the mountain stream, bending over to pick through the pebbles. Master Edwin, still a child at heart, hopped off his Swiftbird mount and called for the Randall family’s little attendants to join him in a treasure hunt along the dry riverbed. The guards also dismounted, undid the reins, and let the Swiftbirds drink and play in the stream.

Marquess Farul pulled his gaze away from Caligula, turned his head, and said with considerable envy, “Victor, this retainer of yours is truly astonishing.” He raised the yellow-glazed rock in his hand and added, “He has probably touched upon the realm of the Touch of the Mind.”

Victor smiled. “It could also be luck.”

Caligula was unusually tall and had a simple, foolish nature, making him the only retainer without a mount. He was often the butt of his companions’ jokes along the way. It was hard for Marquess Farul not to notice him. If Caligula had randomly picked a gemstone out of the water, it might have been good luck. But his objective had been very clear: he was going for the treasure in the water.

Luck couldn’t explain his motive.

Farul was close with Tournans and knew well the mystery and value of the Touch of the Mind. Caligula’s actions clearly showed the characteristics of the Touch of the Mind. Gold Knights were incredibly proud, but they would still respect a warrior in a Deeply Savaged State, and the Touch of the Mind represented almost the highest level of extraordinary power for a Ferocious warrior.

Dietmar, the Sixth-level Sacred Warrior, clicked his tongue in amazement. “I heard Tournans mention Caligula… he was once gravely injured and near death, saved by a priest’s divine arts. Tournans personally reshaped his body and commented that his heart is pure and transparent. If Caligula can reach the extraordinary realm of the Touch of the Mind, it is also a blessing from our Lord.”

“A near-death rebirth? No wonder he has achieved what he has today.”

Marquess Farul nodded in understanding and said to Victor, “Victor, could you lend me your retainer for a while… After we capture Windfang, I will surely reward you.”

Before Victor could answer, Dietmar shook his head and cut in, “It’s useless… Caligula is too timid. He could never generate the impulse to hunt a Gold rank Gnoll like Tournans can. Without the impulse, there’s no active premonition. Active versus passive is the key difference between the Touch of the Mind and danger sense.”

“Don’t worry, Farul. Windfang will be caught sooner or later.” Dietmar smiled. “With Caligula by Victor’s side, if he senses Windfang stalking us, I will certainly help you eliminate that beast.”

“I hope so,” Marquess Farul sighed.

Victor asked curiously, “Is Windfang very powerful? Even Your Highness isn’t confident in catching it?”

“It’s not necessarily that powerful, but it’s certainly cunning.”

Marquess Farul shook his head and said, “That beast’s Wind Walk talent is different from yours. The air currents it manipulates can’t be attached to a weapon. Instead, it’s more like a Gale Knight’s Semi-elementalization. The inside of its fur is filled with wind elements, making its body lighter and allowing it to change direction mid-air. Add to that its Bloodlust talent and danger sense, and its movement speed is comparable to a Gale Knight’s—silent, traceless, and scentless. Moreover, it will never show itself unless it’s certain of victory. When it does appear, someone is certain to die.”

“Tournans can not only distort Windfang’s danger perception, but also determine its general location based on the traces of slaughter it leaves behind… Unfortunately, before we could catch it, Tournans was reassigned by the Radiant Knights to fight the Centaurs. However, we’ve already trapped Windfang in a mountainous area. We’ll get rid of it sooner or later.”

Farul paused for a moment, then continued, “The longer this drags on, the greater the chance of Windfang breaking through. After you’ve inspected the pass in the Kajimorsen Grand Canyon, I must hurry to the encirclement to hunt for Windfang in the mountains. I originally planned to leave ten Sword Mantis Knights to protect you and Master Edwin, but with Dietmar and Caligula by your side, you shouldn’t run into any danger. In that case, I’ll take all the Sword Mantis Knights with me.”

Victor’s retinue alone included two priests, three Adjudicators, and five third-rank Sacred Warriors among the clergy. It also included three secret knights from Rose Manor and twelve Mystic Warriors; fourteen Elite Guards and seven retainers from the Randall family; and Catherine had sent one Knight of the Household Department and nine Mystic Warriors to accompany them, for a total of fifty-six guards.

Among them, apart from Gru, the Captain of the Personal Guard, and the six little attendants from the Randall family who were relatively weak, the rest were at least a match for the Alchemical militia. The Mystic Warriors from Aerie Fortress, in particular, were each close to the strength of an initial-rank knight.

Victor suspected they were secret art death commandos cultivated by Aerie Fortress with magical potions.

A troop like this didn’t need protection; it needed surveillance. King Rex sending only a Liaison Officer, two guides, and one scholar was more of a gesture of trust.

Or… is it to avoid suspicion? The Paladin wants an opportunity to approach me, and the Rex family doesn’t want to be directly involved in the hidden wrestling match between the Radiant Knights and the Pontiff?

Victor’s mind raced. He was wary of the Radiant Knights’ assertiveness but also pleased with the Kingdom of Naville’s restraint. Their choice to observe rather than intervene represented a respect for Victor’s right to choose. If he were some small fry, the Kingdom of Naville wouldn’t have bothered to consider whether he was willing to speak with the Radiant Knights.

“Alright, let’s hurry to the end of the canyon,” Victor nodded and asked nonchalantly, “Which path should we take?”

“The path on the left leads to the pass with the Core of the Earth. The path on the right leads to the construction site, which is a bit farther.” Marquess Farul pointed to the canyon on the left and said, “Back then, Windfang attacked the construction site, resulting in the deaths of over a hundred hired laborers. Until we have Windfang’s head, the refugees won’t dare to come back, so the site is temporarily abandoned.”

Core of the Earth… or the ruins of the Alchemy Tower?

Victor said with great interest, “I’ve heard that the Core of the Earth is a rare earth element condensation phenomenon. I’d very much like to see it… Shall we go to the right pass first?”

“Such a rare Elemental Manifestation of earth is certainly something one must see,” Dietmar said with a smile.

Marquess Farul nodded his agreement. Victor turned to the side and called out, “Master Edwin, Caligula, have you found any treasure?”

Caligula straightened up, his hands empty, and replied, “Master, there’s no more treasure here.”

Victor laughed loudly and called out, “Then let’s go. The ox tail is gone, but I can give you a roasted bison leg.”

Chapter 513: Core of the Earth

”

”

Half an hour later, the party arrived at the end of Kajimosen Gorge, where a steep ridge barred their path. It was about two hundred meters high, composed mainly of limestone, with a slope of nearly eighty degrees. The cliff face was covered in slippery, dark green moss, the remnants of a dried-up waterfall.

”

”

“The Core of the Earth is up there.”

”

”

Marquess Faroul halted his Sword Mantis and pointed to the left. “We can go up that slope.”

”

”

Victor followed the Marquess’s finger and saw a man-made gentle slope on the northern side of the gorge. Its packed roadbed was paved with bluestone slabs, wide enough for five heavy carriages to travel abreast with room to spare. He estimated it would take the Sword Mantises at least seven or eight minutes to reach the top of the cliff via the sloping path.

”

”

That was enough time for him to investigate the details of the Core of the Earth alone.

”

”

Victor looked up at the cliff face before him, quickly calculated a climbing route, then leaped off his Dire Swiftbird. Turning to Marquess Faroul and Deputy Commander Dietmar with a smile, he said eagerly, “I’ll go on ahead and take a look.” With that, he entered his Apocalypse state. His surging spiritual power stirred the dormant water elements within his body. He stomped his feet hard on the ground, pulverizing the cobblestones beneath his boots. A cyan-black airflow swirled around his Dragon-Lizard leather armor, making the air around him smooth and fluid. He shot twenty meters into the air, landed on a protrusion on the cliff face, and ascended gracefully, like a startled swan. After a few bounds, he vanished over the top of the cliff.

”

”

Hercules, seeing his master leave him behind, screeched in distress. Its sharp talons dug into the cliff rock as it scrambled thirty meters up. However, the cliff was too steep and slippery for it to maintain its balance. It had no choice but to spread its wings and descend back to the ground, crying out as it ran toward the slope on the left.

”

”

Dietmar’s jaw dropped. He gawked at the towering, treacherous ridge, then looked down at the marks Victor had left on the riverbed. “So fast… so reckless…” he muttered. “That power… could it be the legendary Surge talent? Victor can’t be far from the Gold rank, can he?”

”

”

The Surge talent meant that Victor was interacting naturally with void water elements, just like a Silver Knight. His Moon Elf bloodline was in an irreversible state of purification. The only difference was that a Silver Knight’s path ultimately led to the perilous barrier of the Elemental Sea, whereas he would smoothly advance to become a Wind Whisper Moon Elf of the Gold Bloodline.

”

”

The members of his retinue were all dumbfounded, their expressions blank. The four knights from Aerie Fortress and Rose Manor, however, could hardly conceal their delight. As secret knights cultivated by great families, they had some understanding of the mysteries of the Moon Elf bloodline and were thrilled that the Kingdom of Gambia was about to gain a Highness. Master Edwin straightened his back, his face beaming with joy. Victor was Sylvia’s partner; even if he couldn’t reach the level of Sword Saint Draven, he would surely become a Guardian of the York family.

”

”

He’s already Gold rank!

”

”

Marquess Faroul circulated his Aura to suppress his shock. Deputy Commander Dietmar possessed the extraordinary power of the Gold rank, but he wasn’t a High-ranked Knight. Without the talent for elemental Perception, he couldn’t know what had just happened.

”

”

To a Gold Knight, all living beings were special manifestations of the four elements in an orderly combination. The measure of whether a being had reached the Gold-rank level of life was solely its soul’s strength—that is, the strength of its fire element, which represented spiritual power.

”

”

Anyone who entered a state of focus could not hide their true level of fire element. During his visit to the Centaur Hills, Marquess Faroul had witnessed Viscount Randell’s unique method of fire element disturbance. Compared to then, Victor’s current spiritual power had unquestionably broken through the upper limit of a Silver Knight and stepped firmly into the domain of a Gold Knight.

”

”

Dietmar glanced at Marquess Faroul and said with a chuckle, shaking his head, “Viscount Randell is usually so quiet and elegant, I forgot he’s only twenty-five. I thought he was a staid lord, but it seems he has a lively, youthful side too.”

”

”

Showing off? Would a Highness so profound and unfathomable show off his skills?

”

”

Suspicion bloomed in Marquess Faroul’s mind. His eyes shifted slightly, taking in the astonished and excited expressions of the Gambian knights and Master Edwin. He thought, Viscount Randell has hidden the fact that he is a Highness from his entourage. He has no reason to expose his true strength just to show off… Could it be that he has something to discuss with me in private and deliberately separated himself from his retainers?

”

”

This cliff faced west and never saw sunlight. The rock face was shaded and damp, overgrown with slippery moss. Even an initial-rank Knight in perfect unity of mind and body would risk losing their footing and falling if they tried to climb it bare-handed. But this was no challenge for a Silver Knight, and even less so for a Gold Knight, though none could have reached the top as quickly as Viscount Randell.

”

”

Marquess Faroul considered for a moment, then turned to the high-ranked Sacred Warrior and said with a hearty laugh, “I’ll follow him up and check out the view.”

”

”

Dietmar was taken aback for a second, then he too laughed. “Since Your Highness is in the mood, let’s see who can reach the top first.”

”

”

The Pontiff’s line was close with the Naville Royal Family, but Dietmar represented the Curia and was responsible for Viscount Randell’s safety. He could not permit a Gold Knight to be alone with Victor in the wilderness, not even an old friend.

”

”

Marquess Faroul nodded, unfastened the Mithril longsword and dagger at his side, and tossed them to Aug, the secret knight from Rose Manor. By this time, Dietmar was already scrambling up the cliff with his hands and feet, as agile as a mountain ape, and was a good twenty meters off the ground in an instant. The Sword Mantis Knights of Naville began to jeer, cursing the Templar Deputy Commander for cheating and being shameless… Dietmar responded with a great laugh as a circle of platinum runes lit up around him. Under the effect of a divine art of lightness, his holy power simulated the weight-reducing effect of the wind element, and his climbing speed suddenly doubled.

”

”

The Gold Knight’s expression finally changed. Without bothering to remove his heavy armor, a brownish-yellow airflow emerged, and an invisible force field supported his body. His plate boots gouged hollows directly into the hard rock wall as he took steps five or six meters high, hot on Dietmar’s heels.

”

”

The Sword Mantis Knights cheered loudly for their commander, while the clergy from Korgeston Cathedral hollered encouragement for Dietmar. Someone seized the opportunity to act as a bookie, and the two sides quickly placed their bets, even inviting Viscount Randell’s guards to wager.

”

”

The Rose Knight, Aug, glanced at the Mithril sword Marquess Faroul had entrusted to him, then looked up to see Knight Conrad from Aerie Fortress’s Household Department looking conflicted nearby. The knight wanted to lead the Mystic Warriors up to eavesdrop on the conversation between the three great figures, but he was afraid of angering Gambia’s future Highness.

”

”

Seeing this, the three Rose Knights exchanged a smile, a sense of pride swelling within them. Gambia’s future Highness—Viscount Randell—was Lady Sylvia’s beloved, the master of the house of Rose Manor.

”

”

When Victor reached the top of the cliff, he immediately saw the so-called Core of the Earth. It was a perfect sphere, its surface smooth and flawless, a pure, earthy yellow. The upper half was exposed, while the lower half was buried in the rock, looking exactly like the Alchemical Empire ruins in the Gloomy Forest.

”

”

Victor rushed forward and placed his left hand on its surface, feeling the same texture as the ruins in the Gloomy Forest. His heart surged with emotion, and he wished he could use the Alchemical Empire’s authority to test its authenticity right away.

”

”

In his irrepressible excitement, he had hastily rushed up, wanting to check for himself if the details of the Core of the Earth matched the Alchemical Empire ruin, and hadn’t thought things through. He had forgotten about a Gold Knight’s ability to perceive elemental changes.

”

”

It would be fine if the Core of the Earth wasn’t an Alchemy Tower. But if, by some chance, it cracked open at his will, the disturbance of the four elements would definitely not escape Marquess Faroul below the cliff. Besides, he and Dietmar were almost at the top.

”

”

Victor deactivated Apocalypse and continued to operate his X-3, reining in his turbulent emotions. He began to plan how he could evade everyone’s notice and stealthily open this suspected “Alchemy Tower” to retrieve the Rune Crystal inside. Back in the Gloomy Forest, he had gone to great lengths to deceive the 5th-level Adjudicator accompanying him. Now, his retinue included several clergy and a group of Mystic Warriors from other families. If Victor wanted to shake them off, he would have to plan carefully.

”

”

Marquess Faroul was the first to “walk” onto the clifftop. He saw Viscount Randell bent over, tapping at the base of the Core of the Earth. He hesitated for two seconds, then cleared his throat to alert Victor to his presence. He then walked over unhurriedly and said slowly, “The Core of the Earth looks like a stone sphere on the surface, but in reality, it changes.”

”

”

“Oh? How does it change?” Victor straightened up and asked curiously.

”

”

“When it’s buried in the mountain, no one knows its true form. After it’s excavated, the upper part is spherical, and the lower part is connected to the mountain. If the surrounding mountain is damaged, it will gather Void Earth Elements to repair the mountain and make the surrounding rock just as indestructible.”

”

”

Faroul stomped his foot hard. His Mithril boot struck the base of the Core of the Earth, and the air boomed with the impact, but the brownish-yellow rock pedestal didn’t even tremble.

”

”

“The Core of the Earth cannot be destroyed, and even the ridge that supports it cannot be excavated.”

”

”

“Haha, Faroul, I admit you were faster than me.”

”

”

The Sacred Warrior Dietmar leaped up and strode toward Victor and Faroul, saying with a laugh, “But I didn’t have Dayne use Sacred Wings on me… you were only a little bit faster.”

”

”

Marquess Faroul patted his Mithril breastplate and said coolly, “You’re in leather armor, I’m in plate mail. And you started before me.”

”

”

“Well… Victor was faster than both of us.” Dietmar gave a dry laugh and changed the subject. “So this is the Core of the Earth?” The Adjudicator balled his fist and struck the brownish-yellow stone sphere, producing a deep, long, muffled thud.

”

”

“It’s no use,” Faroul said, shaking his head. “The Core of the Earth manifests the Law of Firmness from the Elemental Sea of Earth. No external force can move it.”

”

”

“It certainly is firm.” Dietmar nodded, pulling his arm back from the stone sphere. “There are records in the Ivory Sanctum’s collection. Since the beginning of the Radiant Calendar, humans have unearthed four Cores of the Earth. This one in Naville is the fifth…”

”

”

A thought struck Victor, and he asked, “Where are the other Cores of the Earth?”

”

”

“In the Northern Wildlands… They’ve all disappeared now.”

”

”

Dietmar paused, then shook his head. “After all, a Core of the Earth isn’t meant to exist in the real world. They say that when exposed to the air, it will gradually lose the properties of the Law of Earth and eventually become an ordinary stone. The process can be long or short. The longest took seventy-two years, while the shortest weathered and disintegrated after only five.”

”

”

The Rune Crystal of an Alchemy Tower needs a balanced convergence of the four void elements to maintain its basic form. If the four elements become imbalanced, the Rune Crystal might sink into the earth to maintain its extraordinary void element properties and avoid being assimilated by the laws of the real world. Its ability to gather Void Earth Elements can be seen as a self-preservation mechanism for the Rune Crystal, but it inevitably consumes the power of the earth element rune… Once the power of the earth element rune is exhausted, the Rune Crystal is completely finished… Victor lamented the Cores of the Earth that had been wasted, and worried that this one wouldn’t last long enough for him to verify and retrieve it, that it would be assimilated by the world’s laws prematurely.

”

”

The Rune Crystal in the Gloomy Forest took one year and fourteen months from its excavation to his retrieval. According to the Alchemical auxiliary soldier’s report, this Core of the Earth had been unearthed for nearly two years. The rock around the Core had freshly chiseled marks; the Kingdom of Naville had clearly been sending people to regularly clear away the soil it gathered and transformed, hoping to hasten its change.

”

”

I really should have come to Naville sooner!

”

”

Victor was secretly anxious but remained nonchalant on the surface. He patted the Core of the Earth and asked, “How much longer can it last?”

”

”

Marquess Faroul sighed and shook his head. “It’s precisely because we’re uncertain that we gave up on this ridge and chose to dig through the southern pass, which is farther and higher… We didn’t expect to anger a Gold-rank Gnoll there… The nearby lords have been sending soldiers to clear away the loose soil gathered by the Core of the Earth, hoping it will turn into a mundane object sooner.”

”

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Victor’s heart was bleeding, but he couldn’t help but say, “Letting such a magical elemental creation disappear seems like too much of a pity.”

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”

A pity? What’s there to be pitiful about?

”

”

Faroul believed Viscount Randell’s words had a hidden meaning. After a moment of contemplation, he said, “Your Excellency, please come this way.”

”

”

The three of them came to the eastern side of the ridge, and the view before Victor opened up dramatically. A lush, green forest stretched to the horizon, with several rivers meandering from north to south like giant white serpents coiled in the jungle. Not far below the slope, they converged into a large, shimmering turquoise lake. Herds of wild animals drank and played by the lakeside, painting a magnificent and vibrant picture,

”

”

“This is the Twilight Forest, and that’s Agate Lake below.”

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Marquess Faroul pointed to the abandoned man-made structures at the bottom of the slope. “We mobilized fifty thousand able-bodied hired laborers to break through this pass, quarry rock from the ridge, and build a fortress and a canal below to divert the lake’s water into the Kajimosen River Valley.”

”

”

“Actually, the central mountains of Naville have many natural waterways. During the rainy and snowy seasons, the water from the central region flows into the lakes of the Korgeston basin and eventually on to the Dodor Kingdom. However, these are seasonal rivers. By the Season of Fire and Season of Wind, the rivers run dry, and water for people and livestock becomes a problem. Without a stable water source, we can’t establish more settlements.”

”

”

“The great Kajimosen River Valley runs east-west. We can divert water in the east and build a dam in the west, turning the valley into a lake. During the dry season, we can open the floodgates and release the water. We wouldn’t even need to build irrigation ditches to have water available in the natural riverbeds year-round.”

”

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Victor looked down at the dilapidated shanties, roads, and the half-finished fortress foundations below and said calmly, “What a grand undertaking… this is practically a town.”

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“When Master Edwin and I discussed Naville’s water projects, I pointed out that he had designed two incompatible water systems. The Kajimosen River Valley project, in particular, is hugely expensive and completely unnecessary! Natural riverbeds can support settlements, but they can’t irrigate many terraced fields on the mountainsides.”

”

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“If you were to adopt the design plan with stream reservoirs and aqueducts, I estimate the total cost of the water project would not exceed one million Gold Sol. It would only take ten years to complete, start yielding benefits within three, and the lord would break even within five.”

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Victor glanced at Marquess Faroul and said with a faint smile, “Master Edwin offered no explanation, only that I would understand once I saw it for myself.”

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“I admire Master Edwin. He is a true Silver-White Scholar. He maintains a neutral stance and doesn’t discuss Naville’s politics.”

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Marquess Faroul nodded and said frankly, “Building Lake Kajimosen just for settlements would indeed be a waste… but if it’s for the Pioneering Rights to the Twilight Forest, that’s another matter entirely.”

”

”

The Giantstone Mountains to the north, the Misty Mountains to the east, and the Minsk Mountains to the southwest enclose the Kingdom of Naville, making it easy to defend but also confining it to a corner. Its industrial structure is extremely unbalanced, and its price levels are completely different from other kingdoms. Now, once the Kingdom of Naville opens the pass in Kajimosen Gorge and the trade route in Countess Dekeizer’s earldom connecting to Randt Imperial territory, it will suddenly be accessible from all directions.

”

”

The people of Naville, having failed to make headway in the Northern Wildlands, turned their attention to the fertile Twilight Forest east of the Misty Mountains. The fortress in the Kajimosen River Valley would serve the same purpose as Giantstone Fortress: to keep the beastmen of the Twilight Forest out. With the Kingdom of Sus drawing the main force of the Gnolls, not only could the Naville people easily encroach upon the Twilight Forest, but they would also hold the upper hand in diplomacy with the Kingdom of Sus. The Radiant Knights have transferred ten thousand soldiers of the Temple Army from the northern border of the Kingdom of Sus, and the lords of Sus are very hopeful that Naville will make a move in the Twilight Forest.

”

”

The Sasan Empire is expanding into the Northern Wildlands from the west, and its territory is now connected to the exit of Giantstone Fortress. This places the Kingdom of Naville at the very heart of the human kingdoms. Able to attack or defend at will, with developed agriculture and animal husbandry and flourishing trade, it stands in an invincible position. The war trophies the Neowist family acquired on the Southern Continent also need to be transported through the trade route in Countess Dekeizer’s earldom to be sold in the Kingdom of Naville.

”

”

In other words, the Kingdom of Naville, the Kingdom of Sus, and the Randt Imperial territory have reached a consensus, with Naville taking the leading role.

”

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“His Majesty Rex’s great talent and bold vision are astounding.”

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Victor’s face showed no sign of astonishment. He stared at Marquess Faroul and said, “I grew up in Aerie Fortress. The Randt Emperor killed His Majesty Ryan Auguste, and the Neowist family has a blood feud with us Gambians. I only want to know: does Boulderhold have any direct connection with the Neowists?”

”

”

The Auguste blood feud was a joke in the face of the kingdom’s political interests, but the political stance of a lord and his allies still had to be emphasized.

”

”

Marquess Faroul said with a serious expression, “Gambia is Naville’s traditional ally. I guarantee that Boulderhold has no direct connection to the Neowist family. None of us wish to see the Randt Empire restored.”

”

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Victor remained noncommittal and turned his gaze to the Templars’ Deputy Commander.

”

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The Kingdom of Naville was practically the Pontiff’s favorite son. For matters they couldn’t handle openly, the Pope could act on their behalf.

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Dietmar gave a bitter smile and shook his head. “I am only following orders. I know nothing of matters His Holiness the Pope has not instructed me on.” He hesitated for a moment, then said gravely, “But one thing is certain: the Curia also does not wish to see the Neowist family restore the Randt Empire and change the current political landscape!”

”

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“That’s enough.” Victor breathed a sigh of relief, nodded with a smile, and extended his hand to the Gold Knight of Naville.

”

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Marquess Faroul shook Victor’s hand and laughed heartily. “Then we’ll be entrusting Naville’s water projects to Your Excellency.”

”

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“I will certainly do my utmost!”

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Victor withdrew his arm, thinking to himself:

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”

“If Naville is attacking the Gnolls in the Twilight Forest, acting in military concert with the Kingdom of Sus to relieve the defensive pressure on Sus’s northern border… then why is the little princess of the Sus Royal Family entering a marriage alliance with the Peter family of the Kingdom of Borea?”

”

”

Chapter 514: Aerie Fortress’s Support

Aerie Fortress, Regent’s Council Chamber.

Grand Vizier Ludwig stood before the wall, holding a long, thin wooden pointer. Tapping at the massive map on the wall, he said:

“By opening up the Kajimorsen Grand Canyon in the Misty Mountains, the Kingdom of Naville can construct a large fortress on the shores of Agate Lake in the Twilight Forest. When the Gnolls of the Twilight Forest launch a Beast Tide to attack the northern border of the Kingdom of Sus, Naville need only dispatch some Sword Mantis Knights to raid the Gnoll settlements, killing their young and females. This will leave the Gnolls unable to defend both their front and rear, weakening their racial potential and forcing their tribes to migrate to the northeast of the Twilight Forest, away from the west near Naville and the south near the Kingdom of Sus.”

“The northern border of Sus overlaps with the southern Twilight Forest, leaving it without natural defenses. In the short term, this military cooperation will place most of the pressure on the Kingdom of Sus, while the people of Naville will first seize the territory around Agate Lake. But in the long run, this strategy aligns with the fundamental interests of both kingdoms.”

“Now, let’s look at the wilderness north of the Giantstone Mountains.”

The wooden pointer tapped the location of Giantstone Fortress on the map. Marquess Ludwig took a breath and continued, “As the legions of the Sasan Empire march east, they move progressively farther from their imperial heartland. Logistics will become a significant factor limiting the pace of their expansion.”

“Based on an estimate of the Sasan Empire’s current national strength, they will have to halt every five years after advancing their border 120 kilometers eastward to organize tenant households, reclaim wasteland, build towns and villages, and consolidate their newly acquired territory. After fifteen years, the Sasan Empire’s border will extend at least 360 kilometers into the Northern Wildlands. However, the Sasan army and the Radiant Knights must establish a fifty-kilometer buffer zone in front of their border. If, in fifteen years, the people of Naville march out of Giantstone Fortress, the armies of both sides will rendezvous in the Northern Wildlands. The Sasan army and the Radiant Knights will receive a stable supply of materials from Giantstone Fortress, and in return, Naville will receive military aid from the Sasan Empire.”

“To the south, Naville has opened a trade route connecting Countess Dekeizer’s Earldom to the Randt Imperial territory. Even if Neovys lacks the ability to expand into the Southern Continent, as long as they build a port on Lake Fies, the produce we acquire from the Southern Continent can flow into Naville through that port and trade route. Of course, the produce Naville obtains from the Northern Wildlands and the Twilight Forest can also be transported directly to us in Gambis via this trade route, without having to detour through the Dodor Kingdom.”

Grand Vizier Ludwig set down his pointer and sighed. “In this way, the Kingdom of Naville will, in twenty years, become the central kingdom connecting the north and south.”

Regent Williams tapped his fingers on the redwood desk, his gaze shifting to Marquess Golan as he chuckled scornfully. “They all say Rex is brash and valiant, but I see he’s truly cunning… It’s a good thing Victor saw the clues, or we’d all have been deceived by his appearance.”

“The people of Naville have always been cunning… Every time Sasan cavalry invades the Kingdom of Dodor, Naville plunders the Sassans’ logistical supplies and war trophies, rarely engaging their cavalry head-on.”

Marquess Golan shook his head, then his tone shifted as he said thoughtfully, “However, this setup is comprehensive and interconnected. It doesn’t seem like something the people of Naville would conceive.”

“His Highness Golan is right,” Marquess Ludwig interjected. “Ever since the Pope’s faction of priests gave up the two major dioceses of Gambis and Borea, they have thrown their full support behind the Kingdom of Naville. It’s not surprising they would be advising Rex. As the leader of the Holy See, His Eminence Clement has the standing to oversee and coordinate cooperation between the various dioceses, and this is reflected in the Kingdom of Naville’s strategy.”

“We have already confirmed that the military cooperation between Naville and Sus is the result of joint promotion by Clement and Patriarch Tamor. Under the combined pressure from the two Patriarchs, Patriarch Frieders, who oversees church affairs in the Sasan Empire, has temporarily abandoned his ambitions for the grand diocese of Naville. Tournans is leading the elite of the Templars to help the Sassans deal with Centaur bandits, and the Radiant Knights are no longer pressuring Naville to dispatch troops to Giantstone Fortress.”

The information Victor sent back from Naville had drawn Aerie Fortress’s attention. The Gambis Royal Family had leveraged all its connections and, after two months of investigation, had unraveled the matter. With the Pope’s help, Naville had reached a tacit understanding with Sus, the Randt Imperial territory, and the Sasan Empire almost simultaneously. But what concerned Gambis most was the movement of the Borrey United Kingdom.

Williams asked, “And what’s this about the Peter family of the Kingdom of Borea forming a marriage alliance with the Sus Royal Family?”

“The Boreans’ official story is that Duke Peter’s eldest son, Raymond Peter, is enamored with Princess Shireen and is willing to marry into the Sus Royal Family, having actively proposed the marriage alliance himself.”

Ludwig paused, then said, “Of course, things are not so simple. Tracing back the origins of the Borea and Sus kingdoms, their founders both came from the Eastern Alliance, making them natural allies, and they have always maintained marriage alliances. But there has never been a precedent for the Borean army setting foot on Sus soil. This, you could say, is the unique aspect of Raymond and Princess Shireen’s marriage. Whether the Borean army is going to the Twilight Forest to help the people of Sus defend against the Beast Tide or not, this requires someone to act as a guarantor. Otherwise, Duke Meiding could never convince Queen Cynthia and the other four great families to agree to a Borean noble becoming the future Prince of Sus.”

“It must have been the Radiant Knights who brokered the deal, with Patriarch Tamor acting as guarantor!”

Williams slammed his hand on the table, rising from his chair. He paced back and forth a few times before raising his voice.

“The Kingdom of Sus belongs to Patriarch Tamor’s faction’s diocese, but the Radiant Knights have greater influence over the Sus nobles. Without the support of the Temple Army, the people of Sus would be completely unable to secure a foothold on the front lines of the Twilight Forest and mine the mithril there. Now, the Sasan Empire is focused on its eastern expansion, and the Radiant Knights plan to withdraw the twenty thousand soldiers of the Temple Army stationed on the Twilight Forest front… this void needs to be filled… The Radiant Knights approached Patriarch Tamor and proposed that the Borean army fill the gap on the Twilight Forest front, preparing for a full withdrawal of the Temple Army. And Tamor, having just taken over church affairs in the Kingdom of Borea, also wants to use this opportunity to expand his influence among the nobles of Sus and Borea. The two sides hit it off and jointly facilitated the marriage between Raymond and Princess Shireen.”

At this, Williams couldn’t help but wave his hands, complaining, “Gambis is also Patriarch Tamor’s diocese! Why does he play favorites and ignore our needs?”

Marquess Golan stirred his coffee with a silver spoon, his voice low. “A prince consort has no real power, and Raymond is not a knight of firm will. He is far inferior to Victor, unable to resist the charm of a purple-eyed noblewoman, and is especially easy to manipulate. Rather than calling Raymond the future Prince of Sus, it would be more accurate to call him Borea’s hostage for stationing troops in Sus. The Boreans are sending troops to help the Kingdom of Sus defend against the Gnolls, and they’re even handing over a Wind Walk Archer as a hostage. So what is their objective?”

Grand Vizier Ludwig was silent for a moment before saying, “I’m inclined to agree with Viscount Randell’s judgment. The Boreans have designs on the land on the South Shore of Lake Fies… Ninety years ago, the Boreans’ expansion south of the river from The Seven Great Islands ended in failure. Their military actions caused the Barbarians on the opposite shore to unite into a single force. The Barbarians drove out the Borean pioneers and, relying on the defenses and production facilities of Vanguard Fortress, established a Barbarian Kingdom. For a long time, the Kingdom of Borea has consistently sent elite squads to raid and destroy the production facilities of the South Shore Barbarians. Intelligence shows that under the pressure from the Borean knight squads, the Barbarian Kingdom has become increasingly unified, even developing a professional army. It will be very difficult for the Boreans to extinguish the Barbarian Kingdom…”

“The Kingdom of Sus is cooperating with Naville to jointly develop the Twilight Forest. The Boreans have a powerful opponent to their south. Where else can they expand?”

Ludwig turned back to the wall, his wooden pointer tracing the Goldwater River on the map to the location of Lake Fies. “Aside from a landing point on Lake Fies, I can’t think of any other place.”

“The Kingdom of Sus is very close to Lake Fies. With the Borean army stationed near the Twilight Forest, they can both train their troops for war and use the Kingdom of Sus as a springboard to move to the shores of Lake Fies. The Boreans will first help the Kingdom of Sus stabilize the Twilight Forest front, and then Patriarch Tamor will step in to have us, Gambis, and the Kingdom of Borea cooperate to jointly develop the Southern Continent. Because Tamor now controls the four dioceses of Dodor, Gambis, Sus, and Borea, his divine arts power is too dispersed. If we cooperate fully with the Kingdom of Borea, it would be the most ideal southern expansion arrangement for Tamor’s faction of clergy.”

“Perhaps this is the condition for Borea dispatching troops to the Twilight Forest.”

Williams sneered, “The Boreans messed up on their own, and now they want to come and snatch our territory? We have sufficient strength; we don’t need to cooperate with them.”

“The Boreans are also very confident. They are equally unwilling to develop it jointly with us, otherwise they would have approached us to negotiate terms,” Marquess Golan added. “The Boreans are planning to leave the matter of coordinating the conflict between us to Tamor to solve… They are here to snatch territory!”

The Regent clasped his hands behind his back, paced a few more steps, then looked up and said, “I do not wish to see the fleet of the Borrey United Kingdom in Lake Fies! What is the Grand Vizier’s counsel?”

A bitter smile creased the corners of Marquess Ludwig’s mouth. “The Twilight Forest has an abundance of high-quality timber, and the Boreans are skilled at shipbuilding… The key is the port on Lake Fies… Neovys once sent someone to sound out Aerie Fortress about jointly building a port on the shores of Lake Fies, but we ignored him. Just last month, Neovys and his Empress were seen traveling together in a carriage, touring the scenery of Lake Fies. Neovys even personally slew a Savage Fishman as a gift for the Empress.”

For generations, the Empresses of the Randt Empire had been purple-eyed noblewomen from House Elayanuo. Ever since the Neovys imperial family fell into decline, the great nobles of Sus had gradually sided with the Radiant Knights. Bound by the constraints of an ancient pact, the Sus Royal Family still maintained marriage alliances with Neovys, but it was a perfunctory gesture, dispatching a noblewoman of a low bloodline to marry into the Randt Imperial Family. Without a purple-eyed noblewoman to bear children, the Neovys family’s bloodline suffered a devastating blow. The relationship between the two sides completely fractured, not even maintaining a facade of harmony.

The current Randt Empress came from a minor family in Sus. In terms of beauty and bloodline, she was unworthy of Emperor Neovys. She had no children with Neovys and was perennially locked away in the palace, little more than a prisoner. The Randt Emperor had a deep affection for Imperial Concubine Lucretia, who came from Nachtigal, and their daughter, Princess Elizabeth, had already been named the first heir by the Emperor.

Neovys brazenly touring Lake Fies with the Empress did not signify a change in his relationship with Nachtigal. But it was an unmistakable signal:

If you of Gambis are unwilling to let go of your hatred, then I will cooperate with the kingdoms of Sus and Borea!

Williams emotionlessly spat out two words: “Counsel!”

Ludwig shot him a cautious glance and began, “I support Viscount Randell’s counsel. First, find a way to sabotage the marriage alliance between Sus and Borea. Second, dispatch troops to the mouth of Lake Fies and make a show of building a port there. Adopt a strategy of no contact, no statements, and no negotiations with Neovys. Let him hold out hope for us, yet remain suspicious and fearful, buying as much time as possible to train a navy in advance.”

Williams considered this for a moment, nodded noncommittally, and said, “I will consider it. My lord Ludwig, you may leave us.”

“As you command, Your Highness the Regent.”

Ludwig bowed and departed. Once the sound of his footsteps had vanished down the corridor, Marquess Golan walked to the side wall of the council chamber, pushed open a cupboard, and revealed a hidden door behind it.

Four sword-wielding female attendants escorted Tofwen the Wizard out of the pitch-black secret passage. Williams personally stepped forward to help the ancient-looking Wizard to a sofa, asking respectfully, “Master, you heard everything, didn’t you?”

“My hearing is poor, I didn’t hear… Lisa told me.”

Tofwen shook his head, leaned back against the sofa, and closed his eyes to rest. The four female attendants brought out small bronze censers, lit charcoal, and added Calming Grass, Redvein Leaf, Golden Iris, Dark Astringent Fruit husks, and green-veined amber. A pale blue smoke arose, filling the council chamber with a wondrously invigorating fragrance. A handmaiden brought a censer to Tofwen. He took a deep breath of the pale blue smoke, opened his eyes, and said with a smile:

“I just finished carving the elf statue for Victor, so my Spirit was a bit drained. I feel much better now… You should go and see it when you have time. It’s my most satisfying work to date.”

“We will certainly go see it…”

Williams presented a cup of fragrant coffee and asked with great anticipation, “Master, what are your thoughts on the matter the Grand Vizier just discussed?”

Tofwen took a sip of coffee and said slowly, “Naville, the Randt Imperial territory, Sus, Borea, and Sasan… all of it is Clement’s scheme. By proactively giving up the two major dioceses of Gambis and Borea, he both made a concession and concentrated his power. Meanwhile, Tamor took control of church affairs in the Kingdom of Gambis and the Borrey United Kingdom, comprehensively presiding over the implementation and coordination of the southern expansion strategy. On the surface, his influence has surged, but in reality, his power is dispersed. If he wants to integrate the clergy of the two new dioceses, he absolutely needs Clement’s cooperation. Clement is using this as a condition to join forces with Tamor, forcing the Radiant Knights to back down on the Naville issue… Clement has taken everyone’s interests into account, leaving no room for complaint.”

“In contrast, look at Tamor… With the Radiant Knights withdrawing from the Twilight Forest, the Kingdom of Sus is in desperate need of military support and is bound to ask Tamor for help. Clement having Naville guard the Misty Mountains alleviates pressure on the Kingdom of Sus, meaning Tamor owes the Pope a favor. On the other hand, the three Patriarchs jointly facilitated the Borrey United Kingdom’s deployment to the Twilight Forest. Let’s assume the Boreans’ condition is to land on the Southern Continent from Lake Fies, bypassing the Barbarian Kingdom’s forces, and to cooperate with us in Gambis on the expansion. This is a good thing for Tamor, as his clergy also have to manage the Dodor Kingdom’s expansion plans. However, the shortcomings of Tamor’s faction are also exposed: they are short-handed and need time to bring the lower-ranking clergy of the new dioceses into their fold. If Tamor were to have us and the Kingdom of Borea sit down for negotiations ahead of time, before we’ve suffered any setbacks, we would never agree to the Boreans coming over to snatch our territory!”

Tofwen sighed. “So, Tamor is now flustered and can only take things one step at a time. In the end, if he can’t get us and the Boreans to cooperate fully, he can only ask the Pope to mediate, because the Centaur Hills diocese is still in Clement’s hands.”

“The result is that Clement plays a crucial role in the northern, eastern, and southern expansion strategies. No one can shake his papal throne!”

Marquess Golan nodded and said in a low voice, “No wonder Naville granted its southern border to Countess Dekeizer… This is likely also part of Clement’s scheme.”

The relationship between Lady Dori and Sylvia was delicate, but it was certain that the upper echelons of the York family were generally grateful to Lady Dori. Sylvia and Neovys had once used each other, but as the York family and Aerie Fortress entered a honeymoon period, the tacit understanding between the two Legendary Knights had vanished. If necessary, Sylvia would act against Neovys—for example, if he was dead set on bringing the Boreans to Lake Fies. However, if Lady Dori stepped in to mediate the relationship between Neovys and Sylvia, it was unlikely Sylvia would refuse to give her face.

No one could underestimate the power of a Legendary Knight, especially one like Neovys who could enter a Savage state.

If Sylvia didn’t act, Aerie Fortress would have to pile up the lives of their High-ranked Knights, or else watch as the tiny Randt Imperial territory jumped about, playing all sides.

Williams’ face was clouded with gloom, a murderous glint in his eyes. He clenched his fist, then relaxed it, then clenched it again.

Marquess Golan’s gaze was like lightning as he barked, “Williams, calm down! Now is not the time for you to break through to the Gold realm… Even if you achieved the Gold rank, the two of us combined would be no match for Neovys!”

Williams let out a long breath and nodded. “I shouldn’t be angry…”

“Child, hatred has blinded you. The reason for your indignation is that you do not see as high as Clement, nor as far.”

Tofwen chided him, “Let me ask you, if Gambis’s expansion south of the river goes smoothly, that’s one thing. But what if our southern expansion is thwarted? Will we need to rely on the power of the Boreans and Neovys then?”

Williams froze for a moment, then gave a bitter smile. “Master, you are right. I was wrong…”

Tofwen nodded with a smile. “From Clement’s perspective, this is not a trap aimed at Gambis at all, but rather thorough preparation for the entire southern expansion strategy. Therefore, we cannot resist his scheme, nor do we need to deliberately oppose it.”

“I agree with the Master’s view.” Marquess Golan nodded, his expression relaxed. “Clement probably didn’t expect that Victor could see through his scheme from subtle details and propose an effective countermeasure. Otherwise, we would still be completely unaware of the changing situation.”

Tofwen’s expression turned strange. He hesitated, “That… perhaps the Pope didn’t underestimate Victor. Perhaps Victor’s reaction was also within his expectations. Victor doesn’t have all the information, so it’s inevitable he would be used. Look, Clement sent Dietmar to Victor’s side, and Victor immediately concluded that the Radiant Knights wanted to contact him privately.”

“Is that right? Why would the Radiant Knights want to contact Victor privately?” Williams asked, puzzled.

“I don’t know…” The old Wizard shook his head. “We must remind Victor that the Radiant Knights are not without their internal divisions. The Paladin families are constantly engaged in endless scheming for rank… Tell Victor to be careful not to be used as a blade by Clement.”

“Also, Rex’s Queen told Victor that House Elayanuo is dissatisfied with Princess Shireen’s betrothal… This is both a fact and a trap… Clement is deliberately tripping up Tamor. If we step in to sabotage the marriage between Sus and Borea, we’ll be playing right into Clement’s hands!”

Williams nodded and added, “Our discord with the Kingdom of Borea will only give Tamor a headache. If he can’t resolve the conflict between us, he can only ask the Pope to step in and mediate.”

“There is one more thing that even Clement doesn’t know.”

Tofwen took a sip of coffee. After a handmaiden wiped the corner of his mouth, he continued, “Having designs on Lake Fies is not the Boreans’ main objective for sending troops to the Twilight Forest!”

A flash of inspiration struck Williams. “Are you talking about the Gold Restoration Potion?”

Marquess Golan also had a moment of realization. “That makes sense. It’s not enough for them to just have the Gold Potion; they must have sufficient cleansing potions, and the Kingdom of Sus controls the raw materials for those. Raymond Peter is atoning for his mistake by marrying into House Elayanuo and acting as a hostage for the Kingdom of Borea, so that the Boreans can obtain medicinal herbs from the Twilight Forest.”

Gambis had already reached an agreement with the Kingdom of Borea to jointly guard the secret of the Gold Potion. The Five Great Families of Borea didn’t know how the formula for the Gold Potion had leaked and had conducted a strict internal investigation. The result of that investigation led to Raymond Peter being stripped of his territory and his leadership of the West Wind Merchant Association, ultimately reducing him to a tool for a marriage alliance.

“It’s not just the cleansing potion.”

Tofwen shook his head. “Based on a sample of the Bloodboil Potion, I have optimized its formula. But no matter how I run my Deductions, the main ingredient of the Bloodboil Potion must be Gnoll spinal marrow.”

“The Bloodboil Potion?” Williams frowned. “In the Sasan Empire’s recent defeat of the Black-hoof Centaurs, the Bloodboil Potion performed brilliantly. All the major powers have placed orders with the Kingdom of Borea… If the Bloodboil Potion requires Gnoll spinal marrow, then the Twilight Forest is indeed very important to the Boreans…”

Tofwen’s lips turned down, his expression becoming exceptionally grave as he shook his head. “Regarding the Bloodboil Potion, I’ve discovered it has a toxicity that accumulates in the user’s body and can even be passed on to the next generation…”

Williams was startled and asked urgently, “What kind of consequences will that cause?”

“Based on the current experiments, newborns contaminated by the toxin exhibit a stronger Bloodboil effect after taking the potion…”

The old Wizard’s wrinkles knotted together. He shook his head and sighed, “My current lifespan is insufficient to continue observing the effects of the Bloodboil Potion’s toxin on the third generation… I have developed an antidote specifically for the Bloodboil Potion, which can be taken after the Bloodboil effect ends, but it cannot completely clear the residual toxin from a soldier’s body… It seems to root itself in the Bloodline…”

“It’s that potent!”

Marquess Golan was visibly moved. He knew Tofwen’s abilities all too well. If even Tofwen couldn’t purge the Bloodboil toxin, it showed that the Potion-making mastery of the potion’s inventor was incredibly profound.

Tofwen shot Golan an indignant look and said coldly, “If that bastard was truly skilled, he wouldn’t have invented a potion with such strong side effects… I am currently concocting a new Strength Potion. When the time comes, you’ll know who is truly skilled!”

“In short, it’s best to use the Bloodboil Potion sparingly!”

“Yes, yes.” Marquess Golan’s lips twitched as he respectfully agreed, shooting a glare at the Regent, who was struggling not to laugh.

The old Wizard, having regained his usual composed and wise demeanor, picked up his coffee cup and said calmly, “Victor possesses extraordinary wisdom. Let him contend with Clement… We will provide intelligence support. Report the contents of today’s conversation to him… There’s no need to mention the Bloodboil Potion. I have a feeling he will come to me on his own.”

“I agree. I will sign the documents immediately to dispatch troops and craftsmen to the mouth of Lake Fies,” Williams said with a smile.

Tofwen suddenly raised his weary, yellowed eyes and said cautiously, “Right, have the people in Wildwillow City act quickly. Expel Judy from the Briatte family, send her to Silver Moon Manor, and strip her of her surname. We must sever Victor’s ties of interest with Wildwillow City before the southern lords can react. Otherwise, if all the southern lords become His Highness Randell’s followers, things will become troublesome later.”

“Sylvia won’t be willing to let His Highness Randell’s will be influenced by the southern lords, either. But we have to be the ones to play the villain!”

Chapter 515: The Downfallen Judy

A brand-new carriage, unmarked by any family sigil, drove solitarily into Silver Moon Manor and stopped outside the lord’s residence.

Several attendants quickly moved forward, placing a footstool, opening the carriage door, and helping a noble lady with a slender waist and a graceful figure alight. She was dressed in a black gauze dress and a black, round-brimmed lady’s hat, with a black spider silk veil obscuring her face from the nose up, revealing only a delicate, fair chin and pale, cherry-red lips. She clutched a leather case designed for potions, refusing a handmaiden’s attempt to take it from her.

The noble lady looked up at the twin oak trees, which were now lush with leaves, then turned her gaze to the carriage driver. Her cherry lips parted as she spoke in a low, gentle voice, “John, thank you for bringing me to Silver Moon Manor… You have a bad leg, so there’s no need to bow. I am no longer the lady of the Briatte family.”

Wildwillow City’s notorious gang leader, John “Limping Dad,” lamented inwardly. Overnight, the beautiful and noble Viscountess Briatte had been suddenly exiled by the Briatte family, stripped of her eminent power, and driven out of Wildwillow City alone, to be escorted to Silver Moon Manor by none other than him, a gang leader.

But no matter what, Judy was Master Randell’s woman, not someone a vassal of the Randall family could afford to neglect. Furthermore, during her time in power, she had always taken good care of the men the Randall family had stationed in Wildwillow City.

Old John climbed down from the carriage, bowed formally, and said with sincerity, “My Lady, it is John’s honor to drive for you!”

Judy managed a faint smile and a slight nod. Clutching the leather case, she followed a manor handmaiden into the lord’s residence.

Inside the great hall, the magnificent and elegant decor lifted Judy’s spirits slightly. She took the initiative to ask in a soft, low voice, “Why do I not see Lady Alice and Lady Lilia?”

The handmaiden didn’t answer, only saying, “My Lady, you must be tired from your journey. We have prepared hot water for you. Please, bathe and change first.”

It was early summer and the weather was hot. Judy had suffered a great upheaval and hadn’t slept all night; she was mentally and physically exhausted. Hearing the Silver Moon Manor handmaiden’s words, she suddenly felt sticky and uncomfortable. Without much thought, she followed the handmaiden up to the second-floor bathroom.

Upon entering the bathroom, the handmaiden helped Judy remove the black gauze dress that signified her widowhood. Her golden hair was let down, and she slid like a mermaid into the enormous bathtub built of white-glazed rock, immersing her delicate and well-proportioned body in the perfectly warm water.

The familiar surroundings soothed her confused and complex emotions, and only then did Judy begin to carefully recall the events that had befallen her.

Just last night, the magistrate of Wildwillow City had suddenly led soldiers to storm Wildwillow Castle, taking control of the steward, guards, and attendants. Horrified, Judy had sent a signal for help to the Garrison Commander, Lord Francis, while trying to stall the rebels. However, she was soon confronted by all her family members, including her parents and brother, her vassal lords, and the resident priest of Wildwillow City. In the presence of the priest, they swore fealty to Judy’s son, Primo Briatte. They then publicly read from an ancient scroll of matrimonial inheritance of the Briatte family, demanding that Primo, in accordance with family tradition, sign the document. This would grant Judy the right to marry freely, strip her of the Briatte family name, and sever all her inheritance ties with the Briatte family.

The ancient scroll not only bore the signatures of generations of Briatte lords but also the seal of the kingdom’s Senate. Judy even saw her late husband’s own signature. To her horror and grief, her beloved son, only ten years old, signed his name right in front of her. Her own parents advised her to respect the lordly family’s tradition and accept reality, transferring Primo’s guardianship to her younger brother.

Seeing Primo standing with his uncle, Judy signed the document produced by the resident priest, agreeing to transfer Primo’s guardianship to Lord James Briatte.

In the end, Judy left alone, carrying ten Vigor Potions gifted by the Briatte family, and boarded Old John’s carriage, leaving Wildwillow City in the dead of night.

Arriving at Silver Moon Manor was like a frightened little beast returning to its den. Judy’s chaotic and complex feelings settled into tranquility, but a sense of loneliness from losing all her kin washed over her, and she felt a desperate urge to confide her grief and grievances to someone.

“Why didn’t Alice and Lilia welcome me… It all happened so suddenly, they must be on their way… Alas, if Victor finds out about this, will he take his anger out on Primo? In that situation, Primo had to sign to protect me… All the lordly families have similar ancient scrolls… But why didn’t you tell me beforehand? Besides, Primo isn’t even twelve yet!”

“Victor, where are you? Do you miss me?”

At this moment, Judy missed Victor more than ever. In this very bathroom, she had once shared passionate and tender moments with her handsome lover. It was as if only by desperately recalling those joyful times with her love could she forget the pain of being betrayed by her own family.

The warm water felt like a lover’s gentle embrace. A captivating blush rose on Judy’s pretty face, and her long, snow-white legs instinctively intertwined. A moment later, she slowly closed her eyes, long lashes still beaded with tears. A smile, however, graced her once-pale cherry lips as she leaned against the wall of the pool and drifted into a deep sleep.

After some time, two household maids woke Judy. They helped the weak noble lady out of the tub, dried her body and hair with towels, re-tied her hair into a bun, and dressed her in a sleeveless spider silk long dress and a pair of women’s sandals woven from rush grass.

“My Lady, please follow us.”

An older household maid picked up the potion case, pushed open the bathroom door, and led the way out. Judy followed her up the stairs to the third-floor reception room.

Phoenix, dressed in a magnificent viscountess’s long gown, sat upright in the host’s seat on the sofa. Her exquisitely sculpted face was devoid of any smile, and her gray-green eyes were filled with scrutiny. Alice and Lilia stood solemnly behind her with their hands folded before them. The atmosphere was heavy and serious.

Seeing Judy hesitate, her eyes unfocused, Nicole gestured with her chin towards the armchair opposite the sofa and ordered, “Sit.”

Judy composed herself, gave a slight curtsy while holding her skirt, and sat down on the edge of the armchair.

Nicole stared at Judy’s face for a moment before her red lips parted. “What happened in Wildwillow City?” she asked.

Judy’s eyes immediately reddened. She recounted her ordeal, and upon finishing, she lowered her head, her shoulders trembling slightly as she wept silently. Her long, fair neck was bent, like a swan with a broken wing, looking especially pitiful.

Hmph! And you think my Victor likes your type… Nicole secretly gritted her teeth. Judy’s innate fragility was something she could never imitate. After a moment, she said flatly:

“The system of matrimonial inheritance for lordly families has been in practice for thousands of years. It’s just that most nobles have no need to know about it, because it was established by High-ranked Knights to ensure the stable succession of their families.”

“Weak parents cannot raise strong Knights. Therefore, minor families usually entrust their outstanding offspring to the Knights of their suzerain family to be raised. There, they are taught the Path of the Knight, provided with the necessary resources, and helped to build the right convictions, along with a network among the Knight class… friendships between Knights, and suitable partners.”

“Little Primo has the potential to become a Silver Knight, and his mother’s weak character would become an obstacle to his advancement.”

“I… did not…” Judy wanted to argue, but meeting Nicole’s cold gaze, her voice trailed off into a whisper.

“You don’t even have the courage to look me in the eye. How are you qualified to teach Primo what courage is?” A cold sneer touched Nicole’s lips as she continued, “The Briatte family has been cultivating their Bronze Bloodline for centuries. Viscount Briatte fell during the Ant-man tide, Great Knight Austin is dead, and Primo is now their only Bronze Bloodline. How could they let him be ruined in your hands? Primo is the heir to Bryat’s fief. Since he cannot leave Wildwillow City, the only option was for you to leave. Even the noble Auguste royal family adheres to this system of matrimonial inheritance.”

Judy bit her lip and nodded. “I understand… I shouldn’t blame them.”

“And what about you?” Nicole raised an eyebrow and said coldly, “You are a naturally awakened apprentice knight. You originally had the chance to become a Knight, even a High-ranked Knight. Viscount Briatte, though he loved his wife and son, never told you the truth. In the eyes of a High-ranked Knight, you exist to nurture the family Bloodline. Your lifespan will not exceed that of a High-ranked Knight, so there was no need to explain the pros and cons to you. Now, you have borne an outstanding heir for the Briatte family, yet you have lost your chance to advance to Knighthood and have been stripped of your status and family name.”

“If you had understood the marriage traditions of High-ranked Knights back then, would you still have chosen to be Viscount Briatte’s spouse? From beginning to end, Viscount Briatte lacked a Knight’s respect for you… The Briatte family gave you no choice, which means they showed you no goodwill as an individual.”

Judy’s beautiful face turned pale with grief. She covered her mouth as tears streamed down her face. Nicole sighed and shook her head. “Alright, we must first resolve the issue of your surname.”

Nicole glanced at the leather case at Judy’s feet. “According to the marital traditions of Knight families, a widowed lady should remarry into another minor family. The Vigor Potions are your dowry. It can ensure your status in your new family.” She paused, then explained further, “You are not meant to give the potions to your husband, but to take them yourself first. If you advance to Knighthood with their help, you can bear another child, who will be the heir of that minor family.”

Nicole concluded, “Obviously, the Briatte family didn’t arrange a way out for you in advance.”

“But… I… Victor, he…” Judy choked back her tears, trying to say something incoherently.

Nicole cut her off. “I will give you two choices now.”

“On Victor’s account, I will permit you to swear fealty to me and become a Sworn Knight of Baroness Phoenix… or, I can arrange a marriage for you in the Centaur Hills and ask Duke York to grant you the York family name.”

Judy looked as if she’d been struck by lightning. Her face turned deathly pale. She finally understood: Nicole wanted to drive her away from Victor’s side. After a long moment, she said weakly:

“I want to wait for Victor to return before I make a decision.”

“There is no need to wait!”

Nicole spoke from her position of power, her words sharp and aggressive. “Victor is not here. I am in charge of the Randall family’s affairs!”

Judy cast a pleading look towards Lilia and Alice, only to see Lilia lower her head in silence while Alice turned away, avoiding her gaze. Dejected, Judy said sorrowfully:

“You all knew… didn’t you?”

“You mean to ask if Victor knew all along.”

Nicole raised an eyebrow, a smile playing on her lips as she nodded. “That’s right, Victor knew all along. And you, who held great power in Wildwillow City, knew nothing… Victor taught you how to manage the Briatte family, planned the layout of Wildwillow City for you, and earned astonishing wealth for the Briatte family, yet you let all his efforts go to waste! On what grounds do you expect him to take you in? Your beauty? Your wisdom? Your strength? Even if Victor did take you in, what status would you have here in the Randall family? A personal handmaiden? Lilia is the Steward of the Randell Fief, Elina manages the attendants and handmaidens of Silver Moon Manor, and Alice serves as the family’s Liaison Officer. They are all doing an excellent job; there is no place for you. A mistress? What is the difference between a mistress with no noble surname and a household maid? A Knight of the Randall family? Do you honestly think you are qualified?”

The sharp questions were like daggers, piercing the pride that had been wrapped in Judy’s vanity, causing her heart-wrenching pain. She trembled uncontrollably, but at the same time, it forced her to re-examine her inner self and see the weak, laughable Viscountess Briatte she had been.

It’s over now. I should start anew… Judy sighed in her heart and said faintly, “Victor must be very disappointed in me, isn’t he?”

Nicole frowned slightly, then nodded. “The southern fortress to block the Ant-man tide is nearing completion. The military alliance against the Ant-man tide between the Randell Fief, Bryat’s fief, and the Chapman territory will change. As for our Randall family’s interests in Wildwillow City, they will naturally be secured… Judy, for the sake of our past friendship, I advise you to plan properly for your own future.”

“Thank you.” Judy nodded lightly. She bent down and picked up the leather case with the ibis sigil at her feet. She took out the potions, placing them one by one on the coffee table.

The Vigor Potions in the crystal bottles glowed with a magnificent purple haze. A soft smile appeared on Judy’s face as she said quietly, “I lost my potential to become a High-ranked Knight, lost my family, lost my family name… I lost everything, and in exchange, I received these ten Vigor Potions.”

Judy carefully placed the Vigor Potions, secretly crafted in Aerie Fortress, back into the leather case. She raised her hands to undo her bun, letting her golden hair fall to her shoulders. Looking directly into Nicole’s eyes, she smiled. “Fortunately, I have not lost myself… It was Victor who saved me. I love him, and whether he loves me or not, I have not lost my devotion to him. Now, I want to fight for the chance to stay by his side.”

“My Lady Phoenix, you just asked me on what grounds I could stay in the Randall family. I am not clever enough, not strong enough, and my Bloodline is weak; I am not worthy of the noble Viscount Randell. But I am sufficiently obedient. I once obeyed my parents’ arrangements, obeyed my husband, obeyed Victor’s instructions, and obeyed my family’s traditions. From now on, I am willing to offer Viscount Randell my body, my soul, my everything, to submit to his will and become his Sworn Knight, just so I can remain by his side. If…”

Judy caressed the potion case, tilted her head, and smiled sweetly, looking utterly charming. “If Victor refuses me, I will become a Wandering knight.”

Nicole’s prominent chest heaved once. “Judy, do you still not understand?” she said, word by word. “I can drive you out of Silver Moon Manor, and out of the Randell Fief.”

Judy stood up and gave Nicole a Knight’s salute. She said solemnly, “The Randall family is recruiting for its mercenary army. I will join the mercenary legion as a wandering apprentice knight and participate in the Fishman War until Victor returns. Before then…”

“My lady, you cannot drive me away. You do not bear the Randall name.”

Nicole’s sharp gaze bored into Judy’s eyes. Though Judy lowered her head to avoid it, she did not move an inch. The atmosphere in the reception room became icy and heavy. Lilia and Alice kept their eyes downcast, and the surrounding handmaidens didn’t dare to breathe.

After a tense standoff, Nicole nodded, rose gracefully, and smiled dazzlingly. “Very well. You refuse my goodwill. Then we’ll do things according to the mercenary army’s rules… Lilia!”

“My Lady, your orders?” Lilia replied in a small voice.

“Where is the mercenary legion’s most remote pig farm?”

“A valley right up against the Larkspur Mountains. The road has not yet been built. It takes a Camelope transport team five days to get there.”

“Give Judy leather armor and a weapon, and send her to guard that pig farm… As a senior apprentice knight mercenary, she alone can look after the entire farm. Recall all the others.”

Lilia inwardly bemoaned her fate but did not dare to refuse. Nicole’s gentleness was reserved only for Victor; she was usually extremely authoritative, harsh, and strict with her subordinates. Once, a household maid had tried to seduce Victor. Nicole had her seized and brutally interrogated. Only after confirming the maid wasn’t acting on someone else’s orders did she have her sold off to the Eastern Alliance. Any attendants and handmaidens caught having an affair by Nicole also met with miserable ends, even implicating their work point system families.

When Victor himself had interceded on their behalf, Nicole had retorted: “There are over one hundred thousand people in the Randell Fief. Who knows how many spies with malicious intentions are among them? It’s unrealistic to screen them one by one. Only strict rules can prevent other families from finding an opening.”

Victor had been rebutted into silence. From then on, the core members of the Randall family were all terrified of Lady Nicole, afraid of making the slightest mistake.

Lilia and Judy had been on good terms in the past and had received many precious gifts from her, but Nicole was Lilia’s political backer in the Centaur Hills. Moreover, watching Nicole discipline Judy, Lilia also felt a secret thrill and a bit of envy.

Nicole could discipline Victor’s lover without worrying about creating a rift between them; she had complete confidence in their relationship.

In fact, Judy had been wrong about one thing. Nicole, possessing the potential to reach the Gold realm, really could drive her away.

Lilia smiled faintly. Lifting her voluminous skirt, she walked toward the door and said over her shoulder, “Come now, Judy. I’ll take you to get your mercenary equipment.”

Chapter 516: The Old and the New

Ten days later, Victor received a report from Silver Moon Manor.

By now, the Season of Fire was nearing its end. He had spent close to four months in the central mountain forests of the Kingdom of Naville, surveying six primary stream reservoirs and twenty-three secondary ones. Depending on the value of the gifts he received, he devised detailed hydro-agricultural plans for three of Naville’s influential central lords.

These three families immediately recruited eighty thousand refugees from the Korgeston basin, turning them into tenant households. They organized the new tenants to construct waterworks and open up terraced fields, with the first returns from the New Agro-husbandry expected by the Season of Wind next year.

When news of this reached Korgeston City, another wave of gift-giving to Viscount Randell swept through the central and southern lords of Naville. Elina’s hands went limp from taking in all the gold at Dekeizer Manor, and Victor was so busy that he couldn’t even attend the Radiant Knights’ celebratory parade of the Centaur Great Khan’s head.

In the middle of the second month of this year’s Season of Fire, the alchemical creatures began arriving at Warhammer Camp 4. Victor finally had an elite force beyond the prying eyes of the Naville lords. At the same time, Quicksilver, the smuggling caravans, and the mountain stronghold nodes were all adjusted accordingly. Over ten thousand people worked in concert, continuously funneling intelligence from various regions to Warhammer Camp 4. The War Bear Mercenary, Iron Hammer, and the head of Quicksilver’s inner line, Fitch, were both stationed at the camp, providing Victor with external intelligence support and standing by for his orders.

Setting up a temporary command post in the wilderness of Naville was incredibly costly, and information transmission was often delayed. But Victor no longer needed to rely on the intelligence systems of Aerie Fortress and the York family, allowing him to gain a more accurate and comprehensive understanding of the outside world. For instance, neither Aerie Fortress nor Goldwater City had informed him of the sudden overnight coup in Wildwillow City and the change of power within the Briatte family.

It was no surprise that Aerie Fortress had made a move on Wildwillow City. In fact, in the first year after the Ant-man plague ended, before Victor had even begun his machinations in the city, Grand Duke Williams had already started trying to win over Austin Briart. His intention was to strengthen Aerie Fortress’s influence over Wildwillow City and thereby infiltrate the southern part of the kingdom.

For centuries, the southern lord bloodlines led by the Sorim family had always feigned compliance with the Gambis Royal Family, obeying direct military commands but ignoring political summons. Meanwhile, the south-central plains controlled by the Wellington family were flat and indefensible, leaving them directly exposed to the military threat of Copper City. The Auguste royal family and the Wellington family had spent over two hundred years using cleansing potions and trade tactics to break down the southern lord bloodlines from within. With the old Marquess Sorim’s departure for the Northern Wildlands to undertake his Trial of Life and Death, the southern lord coalition finally crumbled, becoming a disorderly mob.

However, constrained by the “Principle of Silence,” the Auguste family could not openly take control of Copper City, as it would provoke a strong backlash from the kingdom’s regional lords and the Church. Therefore, Aerie Fortress needed to support an agent to manipulate southern politics, and they also had to control a bridgehead from which they could launch military interventions into the kingdom’s southern territories.

Bryat’s fief, the buffer zone established by the Sorim family, became Aerie Fortress’s target.

The well-connected geographical position of Bryat’s fief was no accident. If the kingdom’s army were to march on Wildwillow City, it would only take two days for Copper City and at most five days for the more distant southern lords to dispatch troops to Bryat’s fief to support Wildwillow, preventing the flames of war from reaching the heartlands of the southern lords. This was the fundamental reason the Sorim family had established Bryat’s fief.

By the same token, with the Briatte family pledging allegiance to the Royal Family, the Auguste and Wellington families could use Wildwillow City as a base to point their blades at any of the southern lords. Furthermore, since Wildwillow City was not the political center of the southern territories, the Auguste family’s move on Bryat’s fief wouldn’t look too blatant.

One could say that the Auguste family had been planning this for over two hundred years. With or without Victor’s intervention, they were determined to bring the Briatte family under Aerie Fortress’s command. It was merely Victor’s special status at the time—being both a vassal lord from Aerie Fortress and a peripheral lord of the York family—that had given Williams pause. To avoid provoking Sylvia, given the tense relationship between the York family and Aerie Fortress, he had temporarily shelved his plans for Wildwillow City.

Wildwillow City’s so-called neutrality was a complete joke. During Judy’s time in power, the Briatte family had been utterly obedient to Victor. This had forced the Wellington and Joshua families to increase their trade shares in Wildwillow City to exert their own influence on the Briatte family. Thus, despite the fact that the booming free trade in Wildwillow City was severely harming the interests of the Four-Leaf Clover Trading Company, Williams had tolerated it.

But when the Kingdom of Gambis’s overall strategy shifted south, Wildwillow City’s importance was once again highlighted, and none of Gambis’s major powers could stand by and watch Victor continue to control the Briatte family. Under the pretext of tax reform, Williams dispatched a permanent tax collector to Wildwillow City. On one hand, he genuinely wanted to integrate the trade tax into the kingdom’s financial system; on the other, it was to back the patrilineal nobles of the Briatte family.

If it were merely for tax reform and practical influence, Aerie Fortress would not have needed to incite the Briatte family to expel Judy. The real problem was that Victor possessed the Gold Bloodline and formidable extraordinary power. The scattered southern lord families could have rallied around Victor through Judy, using His Highness Randell’s reputation to bargain with Aerie Fortress.

Not only could Aerie Fortress not accept seeing two hundred years of hard work go down the drain, but even Sylvia could not tolerate Victor switching his allegiance, breaking away from the Centaur Hills faction to become the suzerain of some southern families.

Judy was a lost cause. She had gone behind Victor’s back and driven Baron Matthew’s family out of Wildwillow City, which led to her parents and brothers all being turned against her by Aerie Fortress, leaving her utterly alone. If Judy had been a little smarter and asked Laketon for help earlier, Victor might have been willing to put up a fight for her.

Now, with troubles both at home and abroad, Victor’s loss was not an unjust one.

Of course, it was a bit of a shame to relinquish control of Wildwillow City, but Victor did not regret it.

Victor’s initial plan for Wildwillow City was to break the commercial nobility’s monopoly on trade profits, sell the goods from his Randell Fief, and accumulate his initial development capital. Now, Victor’s smuggling caravan was gradually growing, the Twin-Headed Lizard Merchant Guild had implemented centralized procurement and purchasing, the Raven Town trade port was flourishing, and the Golden Company was poised for action. Wildwillow City’s role was not as crucial as before; at best, it was just a major trading end-point in the Golden Company’s commercial network. Victor could replace part of its function simply by establishing a Black Market in Pine Forest Town.

In short, Bryat’s fief was not currently a core interest of the House of Randell. To fight to the bitter end with the kingdom’s major powers for influence in Wildwillow City was not in the fundamental interests of his family.

Besides, the prospect of House Randell winning over the southern lords and establishing a suzerain political force seemed tempting but was actually a huge pitfall.

Silver Moon Manor had only just begun to cultivate young Knights loyal to the family, and Victor didn’t even have an heir yet. What could he use to form marriage alliances with the southern lords? A suzerain who couldn’t practice Fostering for a marriage alliance with his followers wasn’t a true suzerain at all, merely a fool being propped up to take the blame.

Victor hadn’t expected Aerie Fortress to be so ruthless as to cast Judy out without even an attendant. And Nicole sending Judy off to raise pigs made him not know whether to laugh or cry. However, Judy’s decision to stay in the Randell Fief, even if it meant raising pigs, was completely beyond his expectations.

Thinking about it carefully, it all made sense. Aerie Fortress had punished Viscountess Briart severely to kill the chicken to scare the monkey, establishing the Royal Family’s authority and crushing the southern families’ unrealistic ideas. Nicole was very petty and far from kind or magnanimous; her greatest regret was not having the title of Viscountess Randell herself. That Nicole hadn’t driven Judy away when she wanted to take the Randell family name was already a show of restraint. Judy, for her part, had never had much of her own mind and was accustomed to submitting to Victor’s will. The one time she had acted on her own, replacing the magistrate of Wildwillow City, it had ended in disaster. Her confidence was shattered, and she yearned for her lover’s forgiveness and comfort. Until she could see Victor, she would not dare let anyone else dictate her fate again.

There was no pure love among lords. Victor’s feelings for Viscountess Briart were quite shallow, not even as deep as his affection for the Elina sisters. But Judy was no longer a lord; love or acceptance would become her emotional anchor from now on. Since she would rather defy Nicole’s good intentions and wait for Victor’s decision, then he ought to give his woman a chance to return to the circle of great nobles.

After all, Judy was a naturally awakened apprentice knight. With a Gold Restoration Potion, she could surely become an experienced female knight.

To make an experienced female knight raise pigs… was a bit much. Not even the Auguste royal family was that extravagant… Victor thought for a moment and decided to let Judy be tempered in the Fishman War. He leaned back against the tree trunk, took out the quill he carried with him, and wrote his decision on the back of the letter.

“Go. Take this letter back to Warhammer Camp 4.”

The alchemical crow on Victor’s shoulder hopped onto his arm, pecked his finger gently, grasped the sheepskin letter in its claws, flapped its wings, and flew over the treetops. After circling twice in the air, it let out a caw and flew south.

A while later, the figure of the Sacred Warrior Dietmar appeared in Victor’s field of vision. He hopped onto a rock and looked around. A flash of metal reflecting from the canopy revealed Victor’s position. Dietmar walked over and shouted up at the dense foliage, “Victor, we should head back to Korgeston City to rest.”

Victor sheathed his Adamantine longsword and, steadying himself with one hand on the trunk, slid down from the treetop twenty-seven meters above.

Dietmar walked up and complained, “You’re really hard to find.”

Victor smiled. “You have to climb high to see far. How else do you think my surveys are more accurate than those of the tower scholars? I have to live up to the generous hospitality of the Naville lords, don’t you think?”

Dietmar shook his head and sighed, “His Holiness the Pope told me to protect you, but you run off way too fast… The retinue can’t keep up with us, and neither can Father Dayn. Tell me, should I be following you or protecting them?”

Victor was laughing inwardly but put on an apologetic expression. “It must be the Nature of a child of the forest… When I see the woods, I can’t help but want to race through them. Sylvia advised me to follow the free Nature of the Moon Elves, as it’s related to my future bloodline talent… You should prioritize protecting the priest and the retinue. You don’t need to worry about my safety.”

By bringing up Sylvia and his bloodline talent, Victor left the Sacred Warrior with no way to persuade him to stick with the group. Dietmar could only nod resentfully. “Fine. The retinue and the priest do slow down your surveying progress. The sooner you finish your work, the sooner we can go back and report… But even if you’re moving freely, you need to stay within a certain distance of the group. If anything happens, we need to be able to contact each other in time, right?”

Victor’s arrangements in Wildwillow City had already helped the Golden Company open up the situation and achieve its initial goals. Continuing to get entangled there would only disrupt his later plans and lead to the awkward situation of being isolated and targeted by all the major powers in Gambis. From now on, Victor’s main focus would be on controlling the Golden Company and the Goldwater River shipping route, but the most pressing matter was to retrieve the Rune Crystal from the suspected Alchemy Tower.

Victor had already ordered the Alchemical militia to head to the Kajimorsen Grand Canyon to monitor the changes in the Core of the Earth. He was also using his Moon Elf Nature as an excuse to frequently leave the group and act alone, to get his retinue and the high-ranked Sacred Warrior accustomed to Viscount Randell’s disappearances. When the Season of Water arrived this year, the mountain mists would obscure all vision. Victor planned to use his speed and memory to shake off any tails, travel several hundred kilometers overnight, and attempt to retrieve the Rune Crystal from the Kajimorsen Grand Canyon.

“Alright, when we get back to Korgeston this time, I’ll ask Lady Dori for a few pairs of Red-Eyed messenger crows. From now on, I’ll carry a Red-Eyed Crow with me, so you won’t have to worry about not being able to find me,” Victor said with a smile.

“Good.” Dietmar nodded and smiled as well. “Let’s hurry back… After four months of trekking through these mountains, I feel like I’m about to sprout saplings. I can’t wait to soak comfortably in a hot bath at Vispucci’s.”

Victor shrugged his shoulders and said, “Let’s go then.”

The temporary camp wasn’t too far from the Royal Capital of Naville. Traveling on Swiftbirds, Victor and his party made it back to Korgeston City in just six days. With Viscount Randell’s return, there were bound to be all sorts of social engagements. However, even King Rex had to let Victor rest for two days first. Victor and Dietmar first went to Korgeston Cathedral to pray (reporting their whereabouts) before heading directly back to Dekeizer Manor. After a brief chat with Lady Dori, Victor met the eagerly awaiting Catherine in his temporary villa.

Catherine’s teasing words nearly made Victor lose control. He activated his X-3 and complimented her, “My dear, your charm is undeniable, but my willpower… Tutor Ariel, if you don’t come in soon, I’m about to make a mistake.”

Catherine pouted her red lips, gave Victor a coquettish eye-roll, and climbed off him. She sat beside him, tidying her revealing dress. A moment later, the mature and stunning Countess Ariel pushed the door open, walked in on high heels, and sat on the sofa opposite them. She crossed her legs gracefully, her gaze sweeping over Victor and Catherine before she covered her mouth and giggled. “This will be the last time I spoil your fun.”

Hmm? It seems the Aerie Fortress Wizard can really enhance an infant’s bloodline, just as I imagined… I just wonder if his magical potion will affect the potential of a high-ranking female knight? It would be terrible if I were to harm Nicole… Victor blinked and said with a serious expression:

“I believe extraordinary individuals should respect each other, not become sacrifices for one another!”

Catherine was deeply moved. She kissed Victor on the cheek and said with deep affection, “My dear, thank you… I will explain everything to you.”

“I hope that day isn’t too far off. My willpower can’t withstand your charm for long.”

Victor made a lighthearted joke to change the subject. “Is there any new intelligence from Aerie Fortress?”

Countess Ariel rose gracefully, walked to a cabinet, pulled open a drawer, and took out two parchment scrolls, handing them to Victor.

Victor unrolled the letters and read them word by word. He mused, “The letter says the Pontiff’s faction is committed to making the Kingdom of Naville the future Central Kingdom. I agree with the assessment of Aerie Fortress’s advisors. But it also says that the Kingdom of Borea, in order to secure the medicinal resources of the Twilight Forest, has proactively proposed a marriage alliance with the Sus Royal Family…”

Catherine and Ariel exchanged a look, and Catherine asked, “My dear, is there a problem with that?”

Victor shook his head gently, raised the letter in his hand, and said in a low voice:

“The letter says that Gambis, through the Pope, proposed to the Boreans that they jointly keep the Gold Potion a secret. The Five Great Families of Borea conducted an internal investigation because of this, and the result was that Duke Peter’s eldest son, Raymond, was stripped of his domain and dismissed from his position as Chief of the Southwind Merchant Association… It seems Raymond was the main culprit for the leak. Since Raymond knows the secret of the Gold Potion, wouldn’t letting him marry into the Sus Royal Family violate the agreement with Gambis? Aren’t they afraid we’ll have Sophia cut off their supply of the potion?”

After hearing this, Catherine smiled faintly and said softly, “Raymond is not a high-ranked knight; it would be difficult for him to resist the spiritual charm of a purple-eyed noblewoman. This, in fact, proves that he doesn’t know the secret of the Gold Potion. I suspect the Kingdom of Borea demoted Raymond because he once championed attacking Sophia’s Stag Merchants’ Guild. To appease Sophia’s anger and resume cooperation with the guild, the Five Great Families drove Raymond out and had him marry into the Sus Royal Family.”

“Actually, even if Raymond knew, it wouldn’t matter.”

Ariel chimed in from the side, “The value of the Gold Potion is too great; no one can monopolize the formula. Pope Clement promised us that this secret would not be spread for the time being, not that it would never be spread. Once the Gold Potion catches the eye of the high-ranked knights of the various kingdoms, His Holiness Clement will naturally have to inform the Rex family. The Kingdom of Sus borders the Twilight Forest to the north and connects to the Goldwater River to the south. All of the Kingdom of Borea’s trade routes are in the hands of the Sus lords. So what if Borea’s alchemists invented the Gold Potion? If the Kingdom of Sus blocks the Southwind Merchant Association’s caravans, they won’t be able to get a single blade of grass. The Kingdom of Borea will first secretly stockpile some medicinal materials, and when the Gold Potion becomes public knowledge, they’ll have Raymond proactively present the formula to the great lords of Sus. This will help elevate his status there.”

Ariel sighed, “They all say Duke Peter favors his eldest son… He has certainly gone to great lengths for Raymond.”

Is that really the truth?

The Gold Potion wasn’t invented by a Borean alchemist at all. When Victor presented the Restoration Potion formula, he wasn’t even certain if the Boreans possessed the Gold Potion. He only knew that the Masked Brotherhood had a color-changing dye, and from that, he judged that they had ties to a Wizard organization.

Assuming the Wizard organization behind the Brotherhood is a remnant of the Council of the Chosen, then many mysteries can be easily resolved. I’ve also long suspected that Raymond’s relationship with the Wizard organization is ambiguous. Raymond used the Masked Brotherhood to attack the Stag Merchants’ Guild and ultimately failed, and now he is to marry into House Elayanuo. Does this mean that the Wizard organization is preparing to infiltrate the Sus Royal Family from the Eastern Alliance? And Raymond is their agent?

To figure these two questions out, he first needed to investigate whether marrying into House Elayanuo was Raymond’s own initiative or a deliberate arrangement by Duke Peter.

Victor shook his head. Investigating such details would be incredibly difficult. He would have to infiltrate Duke Peter’s circle of trusted stewards to have any chance of finding out.

“My dear, why are you shaking your head again? Were we wrong?” Catherine suddenly asked.

“Oh, I was thinking about something else.”

Victor collected his thoughts and said after a moment of contemplation, “Aerie Fortress’s gesture of sending troops and craftsmen to the mouth of Lake Fies is not enough… It would be best to arrange a territory exchange with the lord at the mouth of Lake Fies. That way, Neovys would basically believe that we are truly serious about building a port there, and he won’t be in a hurry to cooperate with the Boreans.”

Catherine thought for a moment and nodded. “Mm, I will pass your opinion back to Aerie Fortress.”

“Oh, right. Have the people from the Radiant Knights all left Korgeston?” Victor asked again.

“They all left after the parade of the Centaur’s head. By now, they should have reached the royal capital of Dodor with Orogar’s head.”

Victor’s long, thin eyebrows furrowed for a moment, then he dropped the letter and broke into a smile. “The Radiant Knights are very patient, aren’t they… If they’re in no hurry to show themselves, I’m in even less of a hurry.”

Catherine took Victor’s hand, her voice filled with worry. “The analysis of Aerie Fortress’s advisors is probably correct… It’s not the Radiant Knights who want to find you, but a certain Paladin family that wants a private meeting. Although we don’t know their purpose, getting caught up in the Radiant Knights’ internal ranking struggles is a troublesome affair.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not that foolish.”

Victor patted Catherine’s slender hand, stood up, and stretched. “My dears, I’m going to take a bath and change my clothes, then I’ll join you for dinner. Please excuse me for now.”

Victor left Catherine’s private villa and returned to the small building where the Randell family was temporarily staying. Elina, wearing the summer dress of a head handmaiden, led several household maids to greet him. They curtsied and said in a sweet voice, “My lord, welcome back. I have prepared hot water for you. Would you like to bathe first, or review the new gift list?”

“A bath first, of course.”

Victor lifted Elina’s delicate, pointed chin.

He could now withstand the scorching heat. After four months of roughing it in the wilderness, his body remained clean and spotless, but right now, he needed to quell the agitation brought on by the magical potion.

Chapter 517: Collecting the Rune Crystal (Part 1)

Victor ended up recuperating in Korgeston for a full thirty days, far longer than he had anticipated.

Dozens of great scholars from the Silver Spire paid a joint visit to Boulderhold. King Rex and Archbishop Vispucci held a continuous series of Tea Parties for twenty-seven days, arranging for them to exchange new academic theories with Victor in various fields, including water project design, New Agro-husbandry coordination methods, and the “relationship between productivity and social systems.”

Of course, most of the time, it was Victor who explained his ideas while the scholars diligently took notes. They were also keen to ask Victor questions and introduce their own academic views. However, before Victor even had a chance to answer, the scholars would start bristling and glaring, trading barbs until they were all arguing amongst themselves.

Although Victor was willing to spread his ideas to the noble academic circles, at this rate, the scholars’ disputes wouldn’t end in half a year. Overwhelmed, Victor stormed out and refused to attend any more of Boulderhold’s scholarly Tea Parties. However, after repeated requests from Master Edwin and Master Sterling of the Auguste family, Victor reluctantly agreed to continue, but only after laying down three rules for the Silver-White Scholars: he would only speak for half a day, he would answer only four questions, and the scholars had to discuss their questions amongst themselves first before presenting them at the next day’s Tea Party.

Thirty days later, having said all that needed to be said and answered all that needed to be asked, Viscount Randell slipped away. He led his retinue and plunged into the south-central mountains of Naville. Master Edwin did not continue to follow Victor; he returned with the other scholars to the Silver Spire in the Royal Capital of Eyer.

Another four months passed. Autumn gave way to winter, and the withering Season of Water arrived as scheduled. During this time, a momentous event with far-reaching consequences occurred in the human kingdoms.

The Silver Spire convened an academic summit where twenty-one master scholars, by a unanimous vote, conferred upon Viscount Randell the title of “Great Scholar of the Silver Spire.” The Spire also formally proposed the theory of social productivity, stating that the emergence of the tenant system corresponds to changes in social productivity, adapts to the needs of the Age of Expansion, and is not subject to the will of any individual. At the same time, the Silver Spire classified freemen into two groups—urban freemen and tenant households—while refugees who illegally occupied land were directly labeled by the Spire as bandits.

This was the first time since its founding that the Silver Spire had publicly and unanimously labeled refugee camps as bandit lairs. The Church had yet to make a statement on the matter, though it was said that the Curia and the Monastery Council of Elders had already begun discussions. However, the human kingdoms, including the Sasan Empire, began to reclassify the freemen population, building a legal basis in advance to crack down on the refugee camps illegally occupying their lands.

The issue of refugee camps had always been sensitive. Lords everywhere insisted on using trade to exploit the refugee camps within their lands and refused to accept their tribute. This prevented the formation of a relationship based on protection, Redemption, and tribute, meaning the camps themselves lacked legitimacy. However, the Church’s clergy were loath to give up the increase in believers that came with the growth of the refugee population, and they worked to mediate relations between vassal villages and refugee camps, attempting to transform the refugees into legitimate subjects.

Now that the lords were willing to open their doors to the groups of refugees illegally occupying land, turning them into tenant households and bringing them under their rule, the Church had no reason to continue sheltering those refugee camps that refused to become tenants. The Church’s delay in making a statement was to buy a buffer period for the refugee camps to migrate and disband. In truth, the Church and the lords had already reached a tacit understanding: the lords would apply pressure on the refugee camps, and the resident priests would step in to appease them, persuading them to disband and move. When the time was up, the stubborn and ambitious among them would face severe sanctions from the lords.

The Silver Spire and the Spire Faction were two completely different concepts; the Silver Spire even had great scholars from the Sasan Empire among its members. On the surface, the Silver Spire was a neutral academic organization, but in reality, it was a mouthpiece for secular lords to jointly voice their opinions to the Church. The ancient Sol Agreement and the New Covenant of Light from three hundred years ago were both examples of the Silver Spire fighting for the interests of secular lords. Before these, Minting Rights and the right to sanction nobles were held entirely in the hands of the Church. But both the Sol Agreement and the New Covenant of Light had been preceded by long negotiations and even bloody conflict before the two sides compromised. For the Silver Spire and the Church to reach a consensus so quickly on the tenant system was truly unprecedented.

Although the Curia had not yet made a clear statement, the joint guidance of the bishops of the major dioceses and powerful lords made Viscount Randell’s academic theories the hottest topic of the day. The so-called “evolution of the social system is determined by productivity and is not subject to the will of any individual” was an implicit suggestion that no one could stand against the tide of history. This laid the theoretical foundation for the great lords to promote the tenant system.

At the same time, the theory contained an undercurrent of “populist determinism.” The reformist faction within the Church used the lords’ unprecedented defense of the people’s interests as a starting point to silence the opposition from the conservative faction.

The theories of political economy from modern society naturally aligned with the idea that “the people are more important than the ruler,” but in practice, it was not an absolute truth. In fact, even on twenty-first-century Earth, there were many polities with sufficiently advanced productivity but relatively backward relations of production. The rulers always maintained control over their country’s social structure and ideology.

The social nature of humans dictates a pyramid-like social structure, and no political system can escape the reality of “the few ruling the many.” If this reality were ever broken, and every individual tried to realize their own ideas, it would trigger catastrophic consequences. Human civilization would immediately collapse, social order would cease to exist, and the destruction of nations and peoples would be imminent.

If this was true for a world like Earth, where the differences between levels of life are not significant, how much more so for a world with vast disparities in individual power?

If the core members of the Church had unanimously opposed reform, the tenant system would have been impossible to implement. It was their shared interests that brought the secular lords and the clergy together.

The kings and great lords wanted to use the tenant system to strengthen the central authority. Ordinary lords and vassals saw tenant households as wealth for their domains. The clergy, meanwhile, saw the tenant system as a highly efficient way to harvest faith. For Victor, this was the first step toward success, and the most crucial one.

For thousands of years, the Church had sanctioned lords in the name of Redemption, and the lords had held the Church hostage in the name of protection. The infiltration and struggle between the two sides had never ceased. If Victor had closed his doors to practice his Centralized Allotted Land System and build his mercenary legion on his own, the Church could have crushed him at any time. But by inviting everyone to play along, where everyone benefited, it became much more difficult for certain people to use the Church’s power to sanction Viscount Randell.

Patching up loopholes and eliminating risks in advance was the main reason Victor spread his new ideas and grafted the tenant system onto the vassalage system.

On the other hand, the Silver Spire taking the lead in championing the tenant system signified that the secular lords had mastered a new political solution for “leveraging the people’s support.” From now on, the secular lords would present themselves as the representatives of the people’s interests, giving them the initiative in their power games with the clergy.

Aside from this major event, which was enough to change the course of human history, another significant incident occurred in the human kingdoms.

Sophia had returned from the Arreat Plateau and had arrived at Bronze-Halberd City, a major trade hub in the Sasan Empire. According to the Church’s announcement, Sophia, representing the human kingdoms, had reached a new trade agreement with the barbarians. Halotes Fortress had abolished the great barbarian assembly held every four years and replaced it with unrestricted trade year-round, to be handled exclusively by Sophia Urus.

After ten thousand years, humanity had once again established diplomatic relations with another race and had actually influenced their decisions.

This was undoubtedly good news, but Victor had no way of knowing the specific details for now.

In other news, the Gold-rank Gnoll Windfang, who had been plaguing the Kingdom of Naville, was once again cornered in the southern mountains… and this was not the first time he had successfully broken through an encirclement.

The Sword Mantis Knights’ repeated failures to capture Windfang had infuriated King Rex. Boulderhold issued a King’s Decree, offering a bounty of two hundred thousand Gold Sols and a barony for Windfang’s head. The Church spread the Kingdom of Naville’s bounty notice to every diocese. For a time, many rangers and mercenary companies hoping to try their luck gathered in the southern forests of Naville, their total numbers exceeding seven thousand.

However, Victor believed the Naville Royal Family had deliberately released news of the bounty. A Gold-rank Savage Gnoll was certainly difficult to catch, but it was unlikely that the Kingdom of Naville was completely helpless against it. Over the past six months, the number of times Windfang had actively attacked human settlements had plummeted. He had fled from the relatively populated central part of the kingdom to the sparsely inhabited southern mountains, yet he was still cornered by the Sword Mantis Knights.

These signs indicated that everything was under the control of the Naville Royal Family. Victor wouldn’t even be surprised if the Kingdom of Rex produced Windfang’s head tomorrow.

Surely a kingdom of this size kept some Wizards with special abilities on its payroll?

The mountain folk in southern Naville had never paid much mind to the local lords. Rex was using the hunt for Windfang as a pretext to teach those arrogant and unruly Wildmen a lesson, bring them completely under the rule of the kingdom’s lords, and, while he was at it, recruit the more than 7,000-strong force of mercenaries and knight-errants.

By issuing a bounty, Rex had even saved the expense of holding a Knight’s Tournament.

Victor estimated that the two-hundred-thousand-Gold-Sol bounty and the barony were likely already spoken for in secret. If King Rex couldn’t even manage that, he might as well just go and die.

Naville’s clever little trick to gain both fame and fortune had nothing to do with Victor. He was busy with his own work.

The lords of Naville’s south-central region had showered Victor with gifts; the gold ingots alone weighed nearly two tons. The purity of the gold varied, but it would be worth 187,000 Gold Sols if sold to the Gambis Royal Family. If Victor were to mint them into Gold Sols himself, they would be worth at least a million!

Having taken so much money, how could he not put in some effort?

After more than eight months of trekking through mountains, weathering the wind, and sleeping under the stars, Victor had basically completed his task of surveying the terrain and re-planning the water and agro-husbandry facilities. Only the Earldom of Dekeizer remained.

Victor had saved Lady Dori’s domain for last. First, because the Earldom of Dekeizer was the most remote; second, he couldn’t appear overly enthusiastic with Neowist’s neighbor in front of Catherine; and third, of course, was to stall for time, waiting for the Season of Water, when people would be sheltering in towns for the winter, making it convenient for him to collect the Rune Crystal from the Kajimorsen Grand Canyon.

That evening, Victor deliberately led the group to a leeward mountain hollow in the central forests of Naville to make camp.

Viscount Randell’s guards and retinue were all extraordinarily strong Mystic Warriors with extensive experience in wilderness survival. They felled trees, using oilcloth and timber to build many rainproof shelters. Then they split up to hunt and gather, fetch water and chop firewood, feed the Swiftbirds, and start fires to cook, handling everything with practiced ease.

After dinner, everyone gathered for a brief chat, arranged the night watch schedule, and then returned to their own shelters to rest, preparing to set off for Korgeston at first light for a period of recuperation.

Knight Conrad of Aerie Fortress and the Mystic Warriors under his command were responsible for the first half of the night. The weather tonight was unusually fine. There were few clouds in the sky, only a high-hung silver moon casting its tranquil, cool light. Knight Conrad decided not to light a bonfire to avoid the clouds of smoke that the damp wood would produce, which might bother his companions resting in the camp. He set up three sentry posts on the camp’s perimeter, stationing two Mystic Warriors at each, and used Oilwood torches for signaling. He and the remaining three Mystic Warriors split into two groups to patrol around the three posts.

As the night deepened, a cold mist drifted into the mountain hollow. Conrad rested his hand on his sword hilt, stopping to listen to the distant, rising and falling howls of wild beasts. He glanced at the torchlight from the sentry posts, saw nothing amiss, and continued his patrol with his companion.

Hearing the howls of beasts in the mountain forest at night was a sign of safety; if all was silent, it meant they were being stalked by a powerful, savage monster. Conrad had yet to encounter such a situation in the mountains of Naville. The force led by Viscount Randell was extremely powerful, and savage monsters had keen instincts. They would usually give them a wide berth. The ones that came looking for death were ordinary creatures. No matter how strong or fierce they were, without sharp combat intuition, Conrad could easily deal with them without needing Lord Randell or the Adjudicator Sacred Warriors to intervene.

However, what put Conrad most at ease was the “timid Giant,” Caligula. His intuition for danger was at an extraordinary level. With him around, there was no need to worry about a surprise attack by a powerful monster. Although Caligula lacked the courage to fight monsters, Conrad believed that based on his extraordinary intuition and loyal character, His Highness Golan would have also made Caligula a trusted retainer and granted him the status of a Sworn Knight.

It was good that Caligula was one of His Excellency Randell’s personal guards and retainers… A smile touched Conrad’s lips. He walked on, his alligator-skin boots crunching on the dead leaves and branches. The Knight of the Household Department thought to himself:

In the future, I will serve the child of Lord Randell and Her Majesty Catherine. Then I, too, will be a confidant of His Highness Randell’s royal bloodline.

The faint sound of footsteps suddenly came from the direction of the camp. Conrad turned to look and saw a tall, slender figure gradually emerge from the cold mist. He groaned inwardly.

Viscount Randell, clad in two-headed Dragon-Lizard leather armor, two Adamantine longswords at his waist and the Silver Wing Bow on his back, walked toward Conrad alone. The Knight of the Household Department led the Mystic Warrior to meet him, bowed, and asked respectfully:

“My lord, are you going out alone again?”

Viscount Randell smiled slightly, lifting a corner of his cloak to show the Knight of the Household Department the two Red-Eyed messenger crows tied to his side.

“Yes. The moonlight is good tonight, perfect for a little stroll.”

Chapter 518: Collecting the Rune Crystal (Part 2)

Viscount Randell, who possessed the bloodline of a Moon Elf, found his retinue too slow and often scouted the mountain forests alone. He especially loved going out on moonlit nights, indulging the free nature of his Moon Elf blood. His men would often wake up to find that Viscount Randell had already completed a topographical survey of a fifteen-kilometer radius. He would then work with the scholars of the Naville Royal Family to draw a map of the area before moving on to the next region to be surveyed.

Everyone had grown accustomed to Viscount Randell’s unique and efficient work method. Knight Conrad, not suspecting a thing, nodded with a smile. “I wish you a pleasant excursion tonight, my lord.”

“There’s no hurry. Let’s talk for a bit first.”

Victor unslung his Silver Wing Bow, walked over to a freshly cut tree stump, and sat down, his mink cloak draped over his shoulders. He pointed to another stump nearby, indicating for Conrad to sit as well.

The patrol team on the other side, seeing the firelight here go still, waved their torches to signal an inquiry. Conrad took a torch from one of the guards and waved it twice in response, ordering the Mystic Warrior to lead the well-trained hounds and continue the patrol. He then took a seat on the stump himself.

Victor sized up the Knight of the Household Department and began, “Conrad, you must be thirty this year, aren’t you?”

“I am thirty-one, my lord,” Conrad replied.

“Thirty-one… only five years older than me. You should have been in one of the two classes of attendant knights at Aerie Fortress before me, yet I’ve never seen you there,” Victor said with a smile.

“My lord, I am a secret knight trained by the Household Department, not an attendant knight from Aerie Fortress.”

Conrad leaned his sheathed longsword against the stump and explained, “Attendant knights are generally trained at Aerie Fortress. After coming of age, they are assigned to the Swift Dragon Knights, the Imperial Guard, or the garrisons of the various prefectures. We secret knights, on the other hand, have no family heritage. We receive knightly training at Auguste’s secret fortress from a young age and then join the Household Department to directly serve the House of Auguste.”

“We are the personal guard knights of House Auguste,” Conrad added, his expression one of reserved pride.

Victor nodded. “The training for secret knights must be very harsh, I imagine?”

“Our knight’s bloodlines are mixed and of low quality, so arduous training is to be expected.”

Conrad spoke frankly, “In our early childhood, we undergo a body reconstruction and consume a Dragon’s Vein Potion. The lucky ones will naturally awaken their Aura before their eighteenth birthday and have a chance to advance to Knighthood. Those with slightly worse luck who fail to advance naturally by the age of twenty-seven can consume a Vigor Potion to charge the twelfth Elemental Node. Of course, more than half of us only become apprentice knights who have had their bloodlines cleansed. As for the rest, their luck is just too poor, and even the cleansing potion doesn’t work. They have no choice but to undergo another body reconstruction and be trained as Mystic Warriors for Aerie Fortress.”

“So you were one of those with ‘slightly worse luck’?” Victor asked with a smile, tipping his chin toward the moving torchlight in the cold mist. “And are they the noble scions with the worst luck?”

“Them?” Conrad hesitated slightly, then shook his head and said simply, “They don’t have noble bloodlines. They are the children of commoners.”

Victor’s retinue contained soldiers from three different houses: the personal guard of the Randall family, the Mystic Warriors of Rose Manor, and the Mystic Warriors of Aerie Fortress. Having spent over a year living, eating, and marching together, they had all become familiar with one another. The soldiers from the three factions had developed a rapport, but a sense of rivalry was unavoidable. The Elite Guards of the Randall family lacked a common person’s competitiveness; apart from Reno and Shak making a show of things, the other Alchemical militia performed averagely, only a little stronger than ordinary Elite Soldiers. The power gap between the Mystic Warriors of Rose Manor and Aerie Fortress, however, was quite significant.

Just how strong were the Mystic Warriors of Aerie Fortress?

To use the most direct measure, strength, as an example: on Earth, the world record for weightlifting is a 214-kilogram snatch and a 264-kilogram clean and jerk. A healthy adult farmer in this world, however, could easily snatch a weight of around 150 kilograms and walk thirty meters without breaking a sweat. The strength and stamina of an Elite Soldier were one-and-a-half times that of a normal person; they could lift a 220-kilogram weight and carry it for over one hundred meters. As for an initial-rank Knight who had resonated with twelve Elemental Nodes, lifting a log weighing around one ton was a common feat.

The Mystic Warriors of Aerie Fortress were roughly at the level of an elementary Knight. Their strength, stamina, and physical resilience were slightly superior even to Reno’s, though their speed and combat techniques were a little inferior to those of a Lithe Ape militiaman. But the Alchemical militia weren’t natural humans.

In Victor’s estimation, the Mystic Warriors of Aerie Fortress could match Narsen from eight years ago. Of course, if they were to truly fight to the death, the Mystic Warriors would likely be no match for Narsen. Unless they had ignited the fire of the mind, the Combat intuition of a Ferocious human would play a decisive role.

Regardless, the physical condition of the Mystic Warriors of Aerie Fortress had reached an unbelievable degree.

Physical fitness does not equate to actual combat power, but it signifies greater compatibility and expandability—for instance, the ability to wear heavy armor and wield heavy weaponry, greater speed and endurance, and a stronger capacity to resist extreme cold and heat and to withstand injuries, among other things.

Tournans once said that a knight’s physique represented the limit of an ordinary person, and that anyone could potentially ignite the fire of the mind. Now, with a living example right before his eyes, Victor was deeply envious.

The secret knight from the Household Department was clearly unwilling to discuss the topic of Mystic Warriors any further, but Victor had no intention of letting it go.

“How are they trained?” Victor asked bluntly.

Conrad hesitated for a moment before saying sincerely, “This… my lord, I cannot say much. In truth, I myself know very little.”

“But I am genuinely interested in the method for training Mystic Warriors.”

Victor smiled gently. “How about this? I’ll ask questions. You can answer what you are able to, and you can refuse to answer what you find inconvenient.”

Conrad thought for a moment and nodded in agreement.

“I’ve heard that powerful Mystic Warriors lose their fertility.”

Victor’s gaze shifted to the patrolling guards before returning to Conrad. “Is that true for them as well?” he asked curiously.

“There is such a saying,” Conrad nodded, then continued, “Our methods for training Mystic Warriors are more advanced… once their bodies reach their peak condition, their fertility can be restored, and they are no different from ordinary people. However, Mystic Warriors are confidants trained by their family and are often carrying out missions assigned by the family… Keeping secrets, maintaining loyalty, and staying focused are essential prerequisites. Young Mystic Warriors are full of vigor and are especially prone to making mistakes when it comes to women. Therefore, the Mystic Warriors of Aerie Fortress have their fertility restored only after they retire and their minds have matured, at which point Aerie Fortress helps them start their own families.”

“My lord, your requirement that the members of the Randall family’s personal guard not take wives or have children is truly a wise move,” Conrad said, trying to flatter him and change the subject.

Victor wasn’t falling for it. His curiosity unabated, he asked, “I’ve also heard that some families make their Mystic Warriors fight beasts from a young age, forcing them to survive life-and-death trials. The survivors are said to become exceptionally strong… Is that how the Mystic Warriors of Aerie Fortress are trained?”

“Uh, that’s absolutely a rumor.”

Conrad, resigned, had no choice but to continue the topic of Mystic Warriors. He explained, “Just as you believe, every healthy child is a precious asset to a family and should not be sacrificed in vain. If you make weak children fight beasts, they would have great difficulty surviving to adulthood. Any who were lucky enough to survive would likely be no different from beasts themselves. This would not only violate the traditional Virtues of the family, but it would also be contrary to the original purpose of training Mystic Warriors. We need smart, strong, brave, and loyal warriors, not cold-blooded, ruthless beasts. And another thing, Mystic Warriors generally undergo a body reconstruction in their youth, a procedure that costs close to eight hundred Gold Sol. A family would hardly spend eight hundred Gold Sol just to feed beasts.”

Victor nodded, then raised an eyebrow. “Then why are the Mystic Warriors of Aerie Fortress so powerful?”

“They… underwent two sessions of body reconstruction.”

“Is it that simple?” Victor stared at the secret knight from the Household Department with a faint smile, as vortexes of air bloomed and vanished around his body. The white mist churned as the friction of the airflow created a sharp whistle, like an arrow piercing the sky.

Conrad was startled, realizing that Viscount Randell was growing impatient. He remembered the words of the Chief of the Faceless: treat Viscount Randell as a semi-master and do his best to win his favor. Thus, Conrad gritted his teeth and said, “The potions we use to train Mystic Warriors are rather special. I don’t know the exact details, but to put it simply, they allow the Mystic Warriors to eat well and sleep well.”

“Eat well and sleep well?”

Seeing the strange phenomena around Viscount Randell disappear, Knight Conrad breathed a sigh of relief and nodded. “Yes. The Mystic Warriors regularly consume a special potion. Their daily food intake is three times that of a normal person, and they can also eat their fill in one go and maintain sufficient stamina for six consecutive days without food. Although they haven’t ignited the fire of the mind, they can effectively control their sleep state like a Knight. For instance, they can quickly fall into a dreamless sleep in a noisy environment and can sleep for up to two days and one night straight. They can also stay awake for four days while maintaining a clear mind.”

Victor was inwardly astounded. “Eating well and sleeping well” might sound laughably gluttonous, but upon careful thought, it touched upon the mysteries of both the body and the mind. One represented the ability to digest food and absorb nutrients, while the other represented the self-repair and strengthening of one’s spirit and bodily functions.

A key characteristic of igniting the fire of the mind was the control of sleep. Victor had X-3, which made falling asleep and waking up as simple as flipping a switch. His need for food, however, was less than that of a normal person, a result of his body’s passive interaction with the void water element. Knights also interacted passively with void elements, and High-ranked Knights could even achieve active interaction, which was why their dependence on food was relatively low. In contrast, Narsen and Caligula not only had voracious appetites, but their absorption of nutrients was also incredibly efficient. They could even chew up and digest tough ox bones.

The difference between a Knight and an ordinary person lay in their different bloodline Laws. From this, it was clear that the simple acts of eating and sleeping were, in fact, two of humanity’s bloodline Laws.

Cultivating the Ox-Subduing Mystic Form could greatly increase one’s appetite, and the Golden Toad Mystic Form similarly emphasized the importance of hibernation. Aerie Fortress, however, had achieved the same effects with special potions.

The achievements of the Aerie Fortress Wizards made Victor envious and opened a new door for him.

Making the simple extraordinary was the very definition of the extraordinary, and this was precisely the direction the Mind Bloodline secret art explored. Victor used secret techniques; the Aerie Fortress Wizards used magical potions. If the two were combined, what kind of effect would be produced?

Of course, human potential had its limits. Whether through the Mind Bloodline secret art or magical potions, the key was the efficiency of unlocking that potential.

After a moment of thought, Victor asked again, “What is the cost of training one Aerie Fortress Mystic Warrior? And is the attrition rate high?”

Conrad gave a wry smile and said respectfully, “My lord, the men I lead are the elite among Mystic Warriors. I don’t know the total resources required to train one elite Mystic Warrior. But for them to undergo two body reconstructions, Aerie Fortress needs to pay the Church two White Crystals, plus eight hundred Gold Sol. As for the attrition rate… perhaps one can be selected from every fifty healthy infants?”

Two White Crystals plus eight hundred Gold Sol was sixteen hundred Gold Sol. Factoring in other kinds of potions and food, the cost of training a top-tier Mystic Warrior was certainly no less than three thousand Gold Sol… much more expensive than creating an Alchemical militiaman, but a Mystic Warrior’s term of service was also much longer… If my Mind Bloodline secret art could lower the training cost and attrition rate, and increase the likelihood of igniting the fire of the mind, that would be wonderful!

Victor ran the numbers in his head, then clapped Conrad warmly on the shoulder, a genial smile on his face. “Conrad, thank you for satisfying my curiosity.”

“It is my honor, my lord,” Conrad replied, displaying a perfectly calibrated look of being flattered.

Victor’s tone shifted as he inquired, “What do you think of Shak’s strength?”

Aerie Fortress was not omniscient about the Randall family, but it had a grasp of the basic situation.

Viscount Randell had three Ferocious warriors under his command. The chief general, Lord Narsen, was from the War Bear Mercenary Company and was a famous Ferocious warrior with the strength of an initial-rank Silver Knight. Caligula was originally a simpleton taken in by Viscount Randell, and his current achievements stemmed from a miracle of the Lord of Radiance; such a family retainer was a once-in-a-lifetime find. Reno hailed from the eastern refugees, was simple and honest, possessed astonishing strength, was loyal to Viscount Randell, and served as the vice-captain of the Randall personal guard.

However, Aerie Fortress’s spies believed that Reno, like most Ferocious humans, had not received systematic martial arts training in his youth, had lost his combat intuition, and was left with nothing but brute strength, making him not worth too much concern.

The Aerie Fortress spies were more focused on a mountain folk hunter leader named Jack, who controlled the Randall family’s Swamp Scouts. Jack was cold-blooded, had no interest in women, had a steady personality, was an extremely skilled archer, and possessed a wealth of experience in wilderness survival.

It was said that all of Jack’s relatives had died in the Ant-man plague, and Shak was his only brother. Shak currently served as the other vice-captain of the Randall personal guard.

When Conrad had accompanied the Queen Mother on her visit to Naville, he had met the Randall family’s Reno, Caligula, and Shak. The first two were as impressive as their reputations suggested, but Shak’s performance had greatly surprised Conrad.

He’s practically an agility-focused Ferocious warrior… Recalling Shak’s nimble movements and his flawless archery, Conrad praised him sincerely, “Captain Shak’s strength is extraordinary, no less than that of an average Mystic Warrior. It’s a pity his combat intuition has already degraded.”

Victor chuckled. “Shak was never a Ferocious human to begin with.”

“What?” Conrad stared at Viscount Randell, his expression one of astonishment.

“To be precise, when I met Shak, he was an ordinary mountain folk hunter. Whether he had the combat intuition of a Ferocious human as a child, I do not know. Shak’s current strength is thanks to the Mystic Form cultivation method pioneered by Lord Narsen. The initial Mystic Form was only suitable for Ferocious warriors to cultivate, but after I and Tournans improved it, it can now significantly enhance an adult’s strength, agility, and stamina, and can even help Ferocious humans recover a portion of their strength… It’s not impossible for them to even ignite the fire of the mind.”

Victor stood up, undid his mink cloak, and slung his Silver Wing Bow over his back. “Alright, I should be going.”

Conrad hurriedly stood as well and asked, “My lord, when will you return?”

Victor smiled without speaking. He gently stroked the Red-Eyed messenger crow sleeping quietly in its pouch, then tossed his cloak to Conrad. He leaped backward, disappearing silently into the dark night, leaving only a straight trail of churning white mist in his wake.

Chapter 519: Retrieving the Rune Crystal (Part 2)

Victor left the camp and, after making a wide circle nearby, changed direction and sped southeast toward the Kajimorsen Grand Canyon.

To slip away from his retinue’s watch and retrieve the Rune Crystal undetected, Victor had laid a great deal of groundwork in advance. But none of his excuses were false; he truly enjoyed bathing in the moonlight, shuttling through the mountain forests.

He moved through the woods like a bolt of lightning. X-3 perfectly commanded his extraordinary agility, extraordinary Perception, Blind Sense, Wind Walk, and Surge talent, constantly correcting the map in his memory and superimposing it upon the real environment. Fallen trees, tangled vines, hidden pits, protruding rocks, intersecting ravines, and slippery streams could not slow his pace; instead, they became aids to his acceleration.

The gentle air flowed tenderly over his body like an invisible suit of armor, parting the biting, knife-like north wind and shielding him from its piercing howls. His boots, made from Dragon-Lizard hide, pushed off a solid rock, and his figure shot forward like an arrow released from its string, crossing a 20-meter-wide river valley. He landed lightly on the opposite cliff face and vanished after a few leaps. Under the watery moonlight, a dissipating channel of white, misty air marked his passage.

To ride the wind and roam free was the romance of the Moon Elves.

Victor ran continuously at 80 kilometers per hour for one hour and forty-three minutes before stopping on the branch of a tall oak tree. He felt nothing but joy, a hearty and exhilarating rush. His surroundings were reflected in his mind without a single omission. Even without entering the state of Silent Void, he could clearly feel his Moon Elf bloodline cheering, and he nearly let out a long cry.

He understood that his Moon Elf bloodline had awakened further. At this moment, he only needed to accept it, to embrace it, and he could easily master the Wind Whisper talent and become a true Gold Bloodline.

However, this was by no means a good thing for X-3 and his human bloodline!

Victor suppressed the urge to cry out, calmed the instincts in his blood, and forced his attention onto the hill not far away.

That was the pass on the eastern side of the Kajimorsen Grand Canyon. The Core of the Earth was up there!

Not a sound from any bird or beast could be heard here, only the mournful howl of the mountain wind blowing through the forest. It was like a dead zone, devoid of life. Even the bright moonlight seemed ghastly white and dim, adding to the gloomy and terrifying atmosphere. Even someone with no experience in the wilderness could sense the danger hidden in the darkness. If it were mountain folk hunters, they would immediately turn around and stay far away from this area.

There might be a new “lord” nearby.

Victor quickly scanned his surroundings and soon spotted a faint silhouette in a thicket of black thorns. X-3 referenced the images in his memory, automatically completing the silhouette’s lines and drawing the image of an Alchemical Warhound, curled up and sound asleep, in his mind.

“Useless mutt. Didn’t even notice someone arrived. See if I don’t slaughter you.”

A mischievous, wicked thought flashed through Victor’s mind. The Warhound’s green eyes snapped open in an instant. Its ears stood erect, its fur bristled, and its powerful, calf-sized body seemed to swell. Its lips curled back, revealing terrifyingly sharp fangs. A deep, powerful growl rumbled in its throat as it shot out of the thicket and began circling under the oak tree. From different directions in the distance came the howls of five other Alchemical Warhounds. They were rapidly approaching, and in no time, they had all gathered under the branch where Victor was perched.

“It’s me.”

Victor leaped down from the high treetop. The six ferocious Alchemical Warhounds immediately flattened their ears, lolled their tongues, and trotted over, wagging their great tails frantically, doing their best to curry favor with their master.

“No licking! All of you, sit!”

Victor hastily stopped the Alchemical Warhounds from pouncing on him to play. He patted each of their large heads and said with a satisfied smile, “Come, let’s go see the Alchemy Tower.”

The Alchemical Warhounds escorted Victor up the hill. About two dozen nimble figures closed in from all sides. They were clad in old leather armor and equipped with hunting bows, long forks, short axes, and nets—all dressed as mountain folk hunters. They bowed to Victor in salute.

Victor unslung his Eagle Wing Bow and two quivers, tossing them to a burly, bald-headed man. “Bull,” he asked in an excited tone, “has there been any change in the Core of the Earth?”

Bull, one of the first Crouching Ox Militiamen, was now seven and a half years old. Having spent years selling smuggled goods with the Warhammer Smuggling Caravan, his intellect had reached that of a young man, fully capable of understanding his master’s words.

“No changes. Ten days ago, the nearby mountain stronghold sent its last party to clear the loose soil accumulated by the Core of the Earth. They probably won’t send anyone else until after this year’s rainy and snowy season,” Bull said.

Victor nodded and quickened his pace. “Crouching Ox Militiamen, with me,” he commanded as he walked. “The rest of you, spread out and keep watch.”

The Lithe Ape militiamen led the Alchemical Warhounds away from the hill, dispersing into the surroundings, while the remaining eight Crouching Ox Militiamen followed Victor closely.

Soon, Victor saw the Core of the Earth.

Perfectly round, smooth, heavy, and abrupt. The silver moonlight, filtering through the hazy mist, coated it in a mysterious yellow halo, proclaiming its extraordinary nature. Victor couldn’t hide his excitement. He took off the gauntlets forged from Dragon-Lizard hide and Adamantine, strode forward, and placed his slender palm on the surface of the Core of the Earth—but in the end, he still hesitated.

For tonight’s retrieval operation, Victor had made long and thorough preparations, considering every last detail. For instance, he had figured out the Naville people’s schedule for monitoring and managing the Core of the Earth. The nearby mountain stronghold inspected its condition once a month, but during the Season of Water, the weather was cold and damp, the mountain shrouded in mist, and the environment perilous. The wild beasts still out hunting at this time grew exceptionally ferocious. The stronghold’s inhabitants wouldn’t risk venturing out during the Season of Water; they could only resume their task of clearing the Core of the Earth in the spring of next year.

Victor couldn’t be sure how long it would take for Alchemy Tower No. 7 to integrate with the Rune Crystal, but choosing today gave him a full three months. Even if the integration failed tonight, he had a contingency plan: have the Alchemical Warhounds pose as savage beasts to block the mountain folk’s paths and prevent any accidents. Bull would be responsible for monitoring the integration process. Once the Rune Crystal successfully integrated, Victor could come back out to retrieve it under the pretext of cultivating his Moon Elf bloodline.

However, these were just minor details. Victor had no idea what kind of changes would occur when Alchemy Tower No. 7 integrated with the Rune Crystal.

The worst-case scenario: Alchemy Tower No. 7 would be completely destroyed, ceasing to exist. Due to their soul bond, Victor would die on the spot!

The best-case scenario: The integration would be a success. Victor would not only possess a more powerful Alchemy Tower No. 7 but would also have discovered a method for retrieving Alchemy Tower Rune Crystals, a step toward restoring the glorious achievements of the Alchemical Empire!

This was a high-stakes gamble that would decide his fate!

Death and the unknown are the sources of fear and excitement. Victor’s heart contracted violently, pumping blood to his brain. The water elements in his body surged unconsciously, and his eyes shone with a golden light. If he were in the Internal Vision state of Silent Void at this moment, he would be thrilled to discover his human bloodline and Moon Elf bloodline pulsing in unison. Unfortunately, X-3 detected a spike in his hormone levels due to the intense emotional fluctuation, which posed a threat to the subject’s life and health. It began operating autonomously, swiftly calming his emotions and forcing him into the absolutely calm state of Overlimit.

No one can plan for everything; no one can completely control every variable. The development of things is like rowing a boat upstream: to not advance is to fall behind. If you can’t keep up with the situation, you will be eliminated. What was once a help will become a stepping stone. This applies to Wildwillow City, and it applies to Alchemy Tower No. 7 as well. The current state of Alchemy Tower No. 7 can no longer keep up with the speed of House of Randell’s growth. If it remains as it is, its use to me will only diminish. I am preparing to cooperate with the Aerie Fortress Wizards to jointly study the secrets of the Mind Bloodline. Once the Mind Warriors of House of Randell take shape, they can completely replace the current alchemical forces. I have a backup plan, so it’s not a great loss even if Alchemy Tower No. 7 is destroyed.

However, things will not go as I wish. Various signs indicate that I am already caught in a wrestling match between unknown entities, representing the side that seeks to revive the Alchemical Empire. House of Randell, The Golden Company, and the Mind Warriors are my trump cards for breaking free from the shackles of fate, but I still need the help of Alchemy Tower No. 7 to get through this interim period. If I reject this path of fate now, the mission to revive the Alchemical Empire will likely be passed on to someone else, who will become my mortal enemy!

In other words, the probability of me successfully retrieving the Rune Crystal is very high! Besides, I doubt I can defeat the formidable enemy that brought down the Alchemical Empire by relying on Mind Warriors and the Lord of Radiance alone.

My loved ones and I will all die! Everything I treasure will be destroyed!

His mind raced. Victor calmly analyzed the pros and cons, quickly steeling himself mentally. He shut down X-3’s Overlimit, took a deep breath, and, just as he had in the Gloomy Forest, used his own will to command the stone sphere to open.

The ground trembled. Victor took a few steps back, watching as the Core of the Earth—which not even a Gold Knight could budge—broke free from the solid rock layer and floated into the air. Light bloomed from within it, forming patterns on the sphere’s surface. It then cracked into thirty-six pieces of rock, revealing a Rune Crystal, shrouded in a glowing mist, suspended in the center.

It really is an Alchemy Tower!

With a ding, a solid crystal fell from one of the cracked, floating rocks into the hemispherical crater below, catching Victor’s attention. It was a dark yellow, slender, diamond-shaped crystal, with dense, solidified runes inside that gave it a mysterious beauty.

This was the second surviving artifact from the Alchemical Empire that Victor had seen. The first was the Saron Demon Iron Rune Sword fragment that the Alchemical militia had found in the Gloomy Forest. This perfectly preserved crystal was clearly more valuable.

Victor did not rush forward to pick it up. He turned and asked, “What is this?”

Bull shook his head, a puzzled look on his face. “I don’t know either,” he said.

“You, go pick it up. Be careful, don’t use force. Back up 50 meters first, then hold it out in your hand for me to see.”

A Crouching Ox Militiaman followed Victor’s instructions, jumped into the round crater, picked up the yellow crystal, jumped out, and took several dozen steps back. He then opened his palm to show Victor the mysterious ancient artifact.

Victor observed it carefully for a moment and saw the yellow crystal lying inert in the Crouching Ox Militiaman’s palm. He frowned and had the militiaman run back another 500 meters, as far away from the Alchemy Tower’s Rune Crystal as possible.

“This far… it should be fine, right?” Victor muttered, his gaze returning to the Rune Crystal. Its luster was dimmer than the one from the Gloomy Forest, but it was twice the size, and half again as large as the Rune Crystal of Alchemy Tower No. 7.

It might be a higher-grade Alchemy Tower. Perhaps it can help Alchemy Tower No. 7 unlock more functions… The first integration took twenty-three minutes. I wonder how long this one will take?

Having made up his mind, Victor would not delay. Four elemental runes—yellow, red, blue, and green—appeared on his left hand, circling his index finger before coalescing into the Rune Crystal of Alchemy Tower No. 7. With a light flick of his finger, the Rune Crystal of Alchemy Tower No. 7 drifted toward the newly revealed Rune Crystal. The two collided soundlessly and became one. At the same moment, the floating blocks of stone fell, landing with a series of muffled thuds. At this moment, Victor’s mental connection with Alchemy Tower No. 7 still existed, but he could no longer control it at will.

This situation was identical to the first integration. Victor couldn’t help but let out a huge sigh of relief.

All that was left to do was wait patiently.

“How is Warhammer Camp 4 doing now?” Victor asked, all while sensing his connection to Alchemy Tower No. 7.

“Iron Hammer is following your orders and has begun evacuating the personnel from the camp. Because Camp 4 has too many supplies stocked up, a population of over 1,500 people, and many women and children, plus the limited transport capacity of the Warhammer Smuggling Caravan, it will take another two months to evacuate them all to other camps.”

Bull paused, then added, “My lord, I received an alchemical crow message yesterday. Iron Hammer asked me to tell you that soldiers from Countess Dekeizer’s territory came to Camp 4. They left a map and warned the camp’s personnel to be wary of the Savage Gnoll, Windfang… If they discover its whereabouts and report it to the local outpost in a timely manner, they can receive a handsome reward. He also demanded that Camp 4 provide supplies and assistance to the mercenaries, Rangers, and soldiers hunting Windfang, and that no disputes should arise, otherwise they will be treated as bandits. If the mercenaries and Rangers attack the mountain folk, the camp can send someone to appeal to the Dekeizer family for help.”

“Just as I expected. The Kingdom of Naville wants to consolidate the southern mountain strongholds to ensure the trade routes in the Randt Imperial territory remain unobstructed,” Victor said with a slight smile. “Tell Iron Hammer that no matter what methods he uses, he must evacuate all the ordinary mountain folk from Camp 4 within a month. The House of Randell’s secret art soldiers can be the last to evacuate, at the end of the rainy and snowy season.”

“Yes.”

Victor glanced at the alchemical militiaman standing in the distance and gave another order. “Later, arrange for the alchemical militia and the six Alchemical Warhounds here to escort that yellow crystal directly back to the mountain stronghold in the Randell Fief. No one else is to know about the crystal. Remember, this is a top-priority mission!”

“As you wish, my lord.”

As time passed, Victor’s mental connection with Alchemy Tower No. 7 grew stronger and stronger. After thirty-two minutes, it finally returned to its normal level. He strode forward and tapped the illusory Rune Crystal. The crystal immediately split into four elemental runes, which spun and merged into his palm.

With a thought, the four elemental runes reappeared and coalesced into the Rune Crystal of Alchemy Tower No. 7. After testing it a few times, Victor retracted the Rune Crystal. No longer able to contain his excitement and elation, he threw his head back and laughed, his clear and melodious laughter drifting far away on the night wind.

He had won the gamble!

“Congratulations, my lord!”

Bull offered his praise. Though his expression wasn’t fawning, it was sincere. For him, such a display was quite rare.

Victor composed himself, reigning in his joyful excitement. He pointed to the stone blocks on the ground and said, “Put all these stones back where they were!”

The Core of the Earth had lost its heavy, solid properties. The Crouching Ox Militiamen worked together and quickly restored it to its original shape. Victor caressed the cracks on the sphere’s surface and asked with a grin, “Bull, what do you think the Naville people will do when they discover the Core of the Earth is cracked?”

Bull scratched the back of his head, thought for a long moment, and answered honestly, “I don’t know.”

Victor was overjoyed, his smile as bright as the moonlight.

“That’s right, they don’t know anything…”

Chapter 520: Shrouded in Suspicion

Before dawn, Victor returned to the temporary camp, treading through the morning mist.

The Randall family’s young attendants immediately rushed forward, diligently taking the weapons and quiver from their master’s hands. Dimat, a high-ranking Sacred Warrior, was sitting on a wooden stump in front of a shanty. He smiled at Victor and said:

“You went out last night without your cloak, so your little attendants thought you would be back soon. But then you never showed. The two little rascals, Brandon and Klaus, woke me up at the crack of dawn, clamoring to go out and find you. I was just about to release a Red-Eyed Crow when you returned… Huh? Victor, you seem a little different from yesterday…”

A thin layer of mist flowed languidly over the surface of his Dragon-Lizard leather armor, veiling Victor in what looked like a living shroud—tangible yet ethereal, giving him an unreal, mysterious quality.

A look of astonishment crossed the high-ranking Sacred Warrior’s face, and he couldn’t help but stand up.

Because of Sword Saint Draven, the Church’s Extraordinary powerhouses paid special attention to the secrets of the Moon Elf bloodline’s talents. They had specifically compiled and studied all the records of every noble with a Moon Elf bloodline, both before and after Draven.

Dimat was not unfamiliar with the phenomenon Victor was exhibiting. As far as he knew, a Moon Elf’s Wind Walk talent could be activated at will. When a Moon Elf’s bloodline was purified to a certain degree, the rate at which Wind Walk consumed vigor would be slower than the natural rate of vigor recovery, allowing Wind Walk to be treated as a passive talent. However, a Wind Walk Archer wouldn’t normally activate Wind Walk under normal circumstances. For Victor to be triggering it completely unconsciously could only mean that his Moon Elf bloodline was in an active stage of growth.

Did roaming freely at night really work? Was this the method to enhance the Moon Elf bloodline? Or did it only apply to Victor’s specific situation?

Various thoughts spun through Dimat’s mind as he stood there, lost in a daze.

“Is that the lovely smell of stewed grouse?”

Victor twitched his nose. He saw a clay pot on the small charcoal stove in front of the shanty, bubbling away and releasing a fragrant steam. Inside, grouse, Bigfoot mushrooms, white-ear tubers, mountain bamboo shoots, and taro were simmering. The mountain delicacies tumbled in the fine, white broth, which was topped with a glistening yellow layer of oil. His appetite whetted, Victor walked into the shanty, grabbed a bowl, chopsticks, and a wooden stool, and sat down by the stove. He ladled himself a bowl of the stew and began to eat without ceremony.

The grouse, fattened for the winter, were at their most delicious. The stew had been simmered for just the right amount of time, melding the fats with the flavors of the various mountain treasures. The Bigfoot mushrooms, unique to the Misty Mountains, were especially delectable. Having absorbed the savory essence of the other ingredients, they were full, smooth, and exceptionally delicious to the bite. After eating several pieces of the mushrooms and drinking every last drop of the soup, Victor set down his bowl and chopsticks and said with great satisfaction:

“They sell dried Bigfoot mushrooms in the markets of Wildwillow City, and they aren’t cheap, but the flavor is far inferior to fresh ones.”

“Well… if you like it, you can have it all.” Dimat sat down beside him and asked tentatively, “Wind Whisper?”

Victor’s expression was one of pity, yet it concealed a hint of pride. “I’ve had a taste of it. I’m just a hair’s breadth away.”

Dimat coughed dryly and lowered his head to hide the shock he felt.

According to the documents in the Church’s collection, since the Wimbledon family’s marriage alliance with the Moon Elf royal family, no more than forty nobles with the Moon Elf bloodline had awakened the Wind Whisper talent. The most famous among them was, of course, Sword Saint Draven. After Draven, in the nearly three thousand years that followed, only four nobles had mastered the Wind Whisper talent, and all of them were descendants of the Testier family.

Dimat felt as if he had grasped the key, found the pattern. His heart pounded with excitement, and his mind raced with possibilities.

Victor could be the fifth Wind Whisper archer not descended from the Sword Saint’s bloodline, and he shared something in common with Sword Saint Draven. Draven had awakened his Wind Whisper talent at the age of forty-seven; Victor had touched its threshold twenty-one years earlier. By the lifespan of a Moon Elf, they had both awakened all their elven talents before reaching adulthood.

Could mastering all bloodline talents before adulthood be a necessary prerequisite for mutating into a Sun Elf bloodline?

Did this mean that Victor would certainly become the second Sword Saint Draven?

Regardless of whether Victor could ultimately mutate his bloodline into that of a Sun Elf, the Wind Whisper talent represented a noble and ancient Gold Bloodline, the very source of the Gale Knights. His emergence could inject new vitality into the declining knightly bloodlines and represented greater political influence.

As a member of the papal line, the same faction as Victor, Dimat was naturally delighted by this development. Seeing no sign of沮丧 on Victor’s face, he teased him with a smile:

“In the future, when I write my memoirs, I can record that the silver moon, the Season of Water, and the mountain forests of Naville are conducive to a Moon Elf noble awakening their innate talents.”

Victor shook his head and smiled. “I hope you’ll note in your memoirs that any Moon Elf noble who tries this method of enhancing their bloodline must have the strength to protect themselves.”

“Er… you have a point.” Dimat shook his head with a wry smile, then his spirits rose again as he suggested, “Victor, why don’t we… postpone our journey, and you can try a few more times?”

Just then, the attendants began to emerge from the shanties to fetch water, wash up, chop firewood for cooking, and feed the Swiftbirds. They started strapping supplies to the backs of the Camelopes, preparing to return to Cogston City to rest for the winter.

Victor’s gaze shifted from the Dire Swiftbird, Hercules, and he shook his head, saying, “The Swiftbirds can eat some raw meat, but they also need to graze on pasture grass. At this time of year, there aren’t many plants in the wilderness to feed them… These guys are the Randall family’s darlings. I’d be heartbroken if even one starved. We should head back to the city for the winter.”

Swiftbirds live in family units, with a dozen or two occupying a large territory, so hibernating in a group was no problem. But artificially gathering over sixty Swiftbirds in one place made supplying fodder for the winter a major issue.

Dimat nodded. After a moment of contemplation, he said, “How about this? We select a few elites to travel on foot to the Dekeizer Earldom, and let the others take the Swiftbirds back to the city to rest. That way, you can continue trying to enhance your bloodline while also saving three months and finishing the survey of Naville’s water system sooner.”

Victor fell silent for a moment, then looked at the high-ranking Sacred Warrior with a faint, knowing smile.

“I left the survey of the Dekeizer Earldom for last because Lady Dori’s domain is too remote. Besides, Her Majesty Catherine requested to accompany me to the Dekeizer Earldom… You know the reason… I am, after all, the Lord of Gambis, who has sworn fealty to the Auguste family. Traveling alone to a place adjacent to Neo Wester, I must consider Her Majesty Catherine’s feelings.”

“How could I have forgotten about that?”

Dimat slapped his forehead, annoyed. “Victor, I have absolutely no other intentions. I was purely worried you would miss this golden opportunity for your bloodline to advance…” He went on to explain his speculation about the age limit for the Moon Elf bloodline, concluding:

“A Moon Elf reaches adulthood at sixty-five. After that, no matter how many talents they awaken, their bloodline is fixed, and they lose the potential to advance. Therefore, the sooner you master the Wind Whisper talent, the more beneficial it will be for you.”

“Thank you for your counsel, Your Excellency.”

Victor thanked him sincerely. After a pause, he smiled meaningfully. “I’m young and not very good at hiding my thoughts… Dimat, we’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Heh heh, of course, we are…”

Dimat gave a dry laugh, thought for a moment, then lowered his voice. “I understand what you want to know… Tournans has gone far away to the Northern Wildlands to deal with Centaur bandits; he won’t be back anytime soon. His Holiness arranged for me to come to Naville to protect you, and I found it puzzling myself. But if His Holiness doesn’t say why, I don’t ask… Sometimes, knowing everything clearly just leaves you with fewer choices and puts you in a difficult position.”

Victor grumbled in dissatisfaction, “Then you have to give me something, right? It’s better than letting my imagination run wild.”

Dimat’s expression stiffened for a second. He gritted his teeth and said softly, “This is just my wild guess, so don’t take it as fact. Just listen.”

Victor pricked up his sharp ears as the Sacred Warrior said, “His Holiness sent me to protect you, I’m afraid it has something to do with the one on the Radiant Holy Mountain…”

“The Po… Wasn’t he sidelined?” Victor asked, his face a mask of confusion.

“Er… don’t forget, besides His Holiness on the Mountain of Light, our King of Ayr is the First Paladin.” Since they were already on the topic, Dimat continued, “Patriarch Tamor is maneuvering everywhere, planning to create a Legion of Sacred Warriors specifically for the southern expansion strategy, based on the Templars’ structure. The King of Ayr has jumped in, demanding to form a mercenary legion for the Kingdom of Ayr, otherwise he’ll… Heh, just ask around about the Lightguard and you’ll understand what’s going on.”

Victor’s eyes glinted. He nodded and asked, “The subjects of the Theocracy of Ayr are all descendants of the clergy. Does Ayr have freemen to recruit?”

“The entire Eastern Alliance diocese, managed by the priests of the Holy Mountain Monastery, is full of freemen.”

“But the Theocracy of Ayr doesn’t allow refugees to pass through or stay. How would the King of Ayr quarter his mercenary legion?”

“Well… it’s not that Ayr forbids refugees from entering; it’s to prevent believers from undertaking arduous pilgrimages, which is an exhaustive drain on the people and treasury and violates their duty of devotion.”

Dimat explained awkwardly before returning to the original topic. “Don’t forget, the Neo Wester royal family is nominally the suzerain of the Kingdom of Ayr. The King of Ayr can entrust his mercenary legion to them. Victor, do you understand now?”

Victor took a deep breath, stood up, and said, “I think I understand the gist of it.”

Five days later, in Cogston City, at Dekeizer Manor, inside a detached villa in the rear garden.

“The Church’s Sacred Warriors are organized into Three Grand Legions: the Temple Army under the Radiant Knights; the Curia’s Templars; and also Nachtigal’s core faction—the Lightguard.”

Catherine sat beside Victor, whispering secrets of the Church to her lover.

“The Temple Army is the largest, followed by the Templars. Nachtigal’s Lightguard has the fewest members. Though their numbers are limited, their strength is not to be underestimated. In reality, they are the iron guard of the papal line, independent of the Radiant Knights and the Curia, with their own priests, Paladins, and Sacred Warriors.”

“The first Pope Inoc founded the Radiant Church, established the Radiant Code, and made it clear that the Knight-Nobles would control the secular City-states, while the clergy would be responsible for redemption and missionary work, without establishing secular regimes. The first Paladin family to follow Inoc, Nachtigal’s ancestor, resigned from his post as Grand Commander of the Radiant Knights to serve as the city lord of the City-state of Ayr.”

“Ayr is the birthplace of the Radiant Church. Over thousands of years, it grew from a City-state into a kingdom. The Church’s clergy thrived and multiplied in Ayr, so people also call it the Theocracy of Ayr. The Nachtigals have been the Kings of Ayr for generations. The Radiant Code has special rules for them; they possess the nature of a secular lord, but also hold a Church office—Chief of the Lightguard.”

“The title of King of Ayr is nominal; the Lightguard is a real post. The Nachtigal family has flourished to this day, and almost all members of the Lightguard are their blood-kin. It is said that the battle priests of the Lightguard are all Nachtigal knights, which shows just how powerful they are.”

Victor shook his head and sighed, “Solid as a rock, with no weakness to exploit.”

“Yes.” Catherine nodded lightly, pursed her lips, and said, “Moreover, while the number of clergy in the Church can change, the proportions of clergy always remain the same… Patriarch Tamor is seeking to expand the Templars, which means the Temple Army will also have to expand, and of course, the Lightguard will expand along with them.”

“I estimate that Nachtigal is demanding that the Holy See form a mercenary legion for his family in exchange for allowing the Lightguard to be expanded last. This is because the Lightguard’s expansion has priority even over the Temple Army.”

Victor noticed the subtle change in Catherine’s expression and instantly understood: the Auguste family also knew the secret of the Pool of Holy Power.

For great families with a legacy stretching back a thousand years, one only needed to look at the family’s historical records to notice the phenomenon of fixed clergy proportions. Following this clue, it would not be difficult to discover the secret of the Pool of Holy Power.

However, the lower-ranking clergy couldn’t see the whole picture and thus couldn’t perceive the mystery within. If they learned that the Church’s upper echelons distributed divine arts based on the holy power stored in the Pool of Holy Power, it would inevitably shake their conviction and lead to a frenzy of currying favor, causing many problems. Therefore, those who knew could not speak of it. If it was spoken, the Church would deny it and severely punish the rumor-mongers.

Catherine reached out a small hand, smoothed Victor’s furrowed brow, and said gently, “Darling, what are you thinking about?”

Victor took Catherine’s slender hand and said, “Nachtigal’s Lightguard is independent of the Curia, the Monasteries, and the Radiant Knights, and they have their own establishment of Paladins, priests, and Sacred Warriors… Isn’t that a small church in itself?”

Catherine flashed a smile. “Yes. If the Church were to suffer a severe blow, the Lightguard could protect the Pope and prop up the entire structure of the Church again. However, the Lightguard cannot stray far from the Pope, so the Nachtigal family’s ability to exert influence externally is extremely limited.”

Victor was unconvinced by Catherine’s view. He was more focused on the secular side of the Nachtigal family, even suspecting that the first Pope had made Nachtigal’s ancestor resign as Grand Commander of the Radiant Knights not only to create a reserve force for the Church, but also to preserve the knightly bloodlines.

If the Church faced a setback, Nachtigal’s Lightguard could compensate for the losses of other institutions and stabilize the Church’s situation. On the other hand, if the secular knight families suffered a blow, Nachtigal’s descendants could likewise take their place as knights, governing a city-state or establishing a kingdom.

As the Nachtigal family put down roots and flourished, sending out its knightly bloodlines, the Church’s influence over the secular world would continue to grow until it covered all the city-states. This was likely the true intention of the first Pope and Nachtigal’s ancestor.

What was perplexing was that the Testier family had taken a similar path, with its blood-kin founding the Sasan Empire in Emperor Friedrich’s name. Yet the Nachtigal family had done nothing. What was so suspicious about all this?

The York family’s knowledge of heraldry is incomplete. I need more sources of information, Victor thought to himself. He turned to Catherine and asked:

“Darling, not all descendants of Paladin families can become clergy. Do you happen to know if the Nachtigal family established any other secular regimes before the Iron Mountain Empire?”

Catherine blinked, looking troubled. “That… that history is too ancient. I can’t answer your question right now. I’ll help you look into it after we return to our country.”

Victor thought for a moment, then shook his head. “If they intended to hide their identities, it’s probably impossible to find out… unless the Church is willing to publish its Ranger records from the past several thousand years and let everyone see how many Rangers who founded families were Nachtigal’s descendants.”

Catherine gave Victor a gentle push and said coquettishly, “Lord Randall, I’ve finished speaking. It is now your turn to offer me your counsel.”

Victor reined in his wandering thoughts, smiled, and said, “So many years have passed. I doubt how much loyalty the Nachtigals still have for the papal line. But one thing is beyond doubt: the Pope is a trump card in the Nachtigal family’s hand. One side of this card is the Lightguard, and the other is the Holy Mountain Monastery. More than fifteen hundred years ago, the Pope’s Lightguard and the priests of the Holy Mountain Monastery were massacred by the Pantheon. The papal line was sidelined, and the priests of the Holy Mountain Faction were suppressed by the Radiant Knights and squeezed out of the Curia’s core of power. Afterward, they sought refuge with the Inquisition and took charge of the Eastern Alliance diocese, which was tantamount to exile.”

“Now look at the Nachtigals. Because of their knight’s bloodline, they have recovered their strength, but they lost the support of the Holy Mountain priests and can only lie low within the Church with little influence. Worst of all, after the Testier family came to power, no knight family dared to form a marriage alliance with the Nachtigals. Their knight’s bloodline was weakened. Apart from their Paladins, who relied on the power of divine arts to maintain their ancient bloodline, their non-Paladin blood-kin grew weaker with each generation, completely incapable of infiltrating the secular world. This went against the Nachtigal family’s original intention for giving up the Radiant Knights, and it was something they could not accept. So, they joined forces with Neo Wester.”

“After more than four hundred years of rest and recovery, Nachtigal and Neo Wester launched a counterattack three hundred years ago, attempting to restore the papal line to power. This was the famous Holy City Uprising. But in the end, it failed.”

Victor paused his analysis, looked at Catherine, and asked, “What was the reason for their failure?”

Catherine bit her lip, then spoke. “They dragged the Holy Mountain priests into it. The priests of the other factions in the Church could not accept the Holy Mountain priests returning to the central authority of the Holy See, so they compromised with the Radiant Knights instead.”

Victor laughed heartily. “You see, whether the papal line holds power directly is not important to Nachtigal. The Pope is bound to be a sidelined puppet. But Nachtigal needs to find a partner within the Holy See who can represent their interests. They chose the Holy Mountain priests.”

Catherine pondered for a moment and said, “You think Casten Nachtigal is recruiting freemen from the Eastern Alliance to form a mercenary legion in order to cooperate with the Holy Mountain priests again? But three hundred years ago, Trigovar’s Inquisition imprisoned all the priests involved in the Holy City Uprising until they died. The current Holy Mountain Monastery has no connection to the papal line.”

“After more than three hundred years, all hatred should have been let go. I, for one, believe that His Majesty Casten has accepted reality.” Victor shook his head. “My guess is this: Nachtigal will no longer scheme for power in the Holy See’s central authority. He wants secular power in the Eastern Alliance. This would both provide a place for their in-laws, the Neo Wester family, and also carve out a path for his family’s ordinary knights. The so-called recruitment of a mercenary legion is just a pretext for the Neo Wester family to enter the Eastern Alliance.”

“Casten is the First Paladin, after all. If all he wants is a desolate place like the Eastern Alliance, the Curia and the Radiant Knights have no reason to object. However, no one within the Church wants to see the Lightguard expand their secular power. On the other hand, the two great kingdoms of Sus and Borui have been bleeding the Eastern Alliance dry for centuries; they aren’t happy to just hand over their own backyard to Neo Wester.”

“The key lies in Neo Wester’s attitude. If he is unwilling to go to the Eastern Alliance, Nachtigal’s hands are tied. Therefore, the people of Sus and Borui are trying to draw Neo Wester’s attention to the south bank of the Goldwater River. The Curia and the Radiant Knights cannot openly refuse Nachtigal’s small request, so they secretly add fuel to the fire, hoping to split Neo Wester from Nachtigal’s camp and thus weaken the Lightguard’s secular influence.”

“If he had a choice, Neo Wester certainly wouldn’t go to the Eastern Alliance, which is overrun with Devil Grass. Right now, he’s playing both sides, intent on crossing the river for a southern expansion. And the Church, fearing we in Gambis will interfere, has not sent a formal notice to Aerie Fortress but is secretly testing our attitude.”

Victor pointed at his own nose and said innocently, “Testing me… and perhaps other great families. In short, they can’t approach Aerie Fortress directly.”

The situation was both complex and simple. Over a decade ago, Auguste had harbored two earls who betrayed the Randt Imperial Family. The Neo Wester Emperor had killed King Ryan Auguste in the name of punishing rebels, an entirely legal act. It would be equally legal for the lords of Gambis to seek revenge for their liege lord. The problem was that if Gambis were to launch a war of revenge against the Randt Imperial territory, it would force Nachtigal to resign as Chief of the Lightguard and join the Randt Empire. Even without his divine power, Nachtigal was still a Legendary Knight. No one wanted the Randt Imperial territory to have two Legendary Knights. The Church especially didn’t want Sylvia to kill two of humanity’s greatest legendary powerhouses. And even if Gambis could win the war, Roland and Goron would likely not survive. With the Auguste family losing two Highnesses, Gambis would essentially disintegrate.

Waging a war of vengeance was not a viable option. But the Church was demanding that Gambis reconcile with the Randt Royal Family in order to sever the relationship between Neo Wester and the Lightguard. The members of Gambis’s royal family could not accept this emotionally, and the lords of Gambis had no political standing to reconcile.

Catherine’s heart was in a turmoil. She didn’t want to appear heartless in front of Victor, yet she worried he would suspect she couldn’t let go of her past feelings and wasn’t completely devoted to him. After a long silence, she said faintly, “Darling, I won’t accompany you to the Dekeizer Earldom… I firmly believe that with your wisdom, you can handle any situation. I will wait for you to return in Cogston.”

“I…”

Catherine placed a hand over Victor’s mouth, tilted her head, and smiled shyly. “Your Highness Randall, I am not the Queen Mother of Gambis right now. I am just your woman. Before you leave for the Dekeizer Earldom, you must keep me good company.”

For the next two months, Victor and Catherine were inseparable, appearing as a pair at various social events held by the nobles of Naville, touring the scenery of the Naville basin, and spending a leisurely and beautiful time together. But several questions lingered in Victor’s mind.

First, the Nachtigal family had deep resources and heritage, an orderly line of succession, and a history even longer than the Radiant Church’s. No one knew how many secrets they possessed, nor how many they had hidden. Why would such a family be interested in the barren and desolate Eastern Alliance?

Second, the Wizard organization in the Eastern Alliance had a legacy of Mages from the Alchemical Empire. Why didn’t they produce the Gold Restoration Potion sooner? Why wait until Alchemy Tower No. 7 came into being? Or was it that those Wizards had only recently discovered an Alchemical Empire ruin in the Eastern Alliance?

Third, the Wizard organization ran the Masked Brotherhood in the Eastern Alliance and controlled a powerful armed force, whose Mystic Warriors were almost unmatched in the current era. Was the Nachtigal family’s coveting of the Eastern Alliance related to this Wizard organization? Was it related to the Alchemical Empire ruin?

There were no answers to these questions for now, but Victor had already achieved his main objective of collecting the Rune Crystals. It was foreseeable that the power of Alchemy Tower No. 7 would rise to another level. Regardless of whether the other party was friend or foe, he held the upper hand.

The simplest and most direct method was for Victor to continuously dispatch alchemical creatures to the Eastern Alliance; he could wear the other side down.

Time was on Victor’s side. All these mysteries could be left to be solved later. But to get a tail on the Wizard organization, he had to keep a close watch on the noble representative they had put forward—Raymond Peter.

Victor secretly gave Quicksilver an order: find a way to plant a nail next to Raymond Peter.

In the fourth month of the Season of Water, a great snow arrived as expected, blanketing Cogston City in silver. At Dekeizer Manor, Victor received an old acquaintance.

Chapter 521: Bounty Diplomacy

The wind was harsh and biting, and snowflakes danced in the air. The back garden of Dekeizer Manor was blanketed in pristine white snow, and the villa where the Randall family was staying seemed to stand in a crystalline, fairytale world.

A fire blazed in the hearth of the villa’s master bedroom, filling the room with warmth. Natalia rested her chin in her hand, her beautiful eyes fixed unblinkingly on Victor across from her. Her mesmerized gaze was a mixture of joy and loss, sorrow and pleading—brimming with affection, yet utterly pitiful.

Victor was quite surprised. He hadn’t expected an ordinary female knight to be able to convey such complex emotions with just her eyes.

If this wasn’t an extraordinary talent, it could only mean that Natalia was deeply in love with him.

Using X-3 to sort through Natalia’s past, Victor found that his understanding of her was very limited. In the young Baron Wimbledon’s memories, Natalia was a dispensable character, one he even felt a certain aversion to. At that time, the young Baron had been utterly bewitched by Sophia, with room in his heart for no one but his wife. He had complied with Sophia’s will and established a partner relationship with her sworn Protection Knight, Natalia. But Natalia’s passion always stirred up the young Baron’s humiliation from being meticulously “trained” by a high-ranking female knight, making him naturally want to avoid her.

In truth, Natalia was stunningly beautiful. With her pale gold hair, light blue eyes, and delicate, lovely features, she gave a first impression of gentle charm. Her skin was fair and smooth, and her figure was tall and voluptuous. Though she was a bit older, her every move was filled with a mature, captivating grace.

If time were turned back twenty-five years, and one discounted the self-perfecting effects of being an extraordinary female knight, Natalia’s beauty would likely have surpassed even Sylvia’s. As for Sophia, she was out of the question; back then, the future Marchioness Wimbledon had still been an ugly duckling.

As far as Victor knew, Natalia came from a noble family in the Kingdom of Sus. She was a naturally awakened female apprentice knight who had left her family to escape an arranged marriage. Later, she met Sophia in the Eastern Alliance, and the two became fast friends, joining the Wimbledon Merchant Association together. Natalia was a clear example of the Sus nobility’s fanatical pursuit of beauty.

Natalia had used a Vigor Potion to advance to an initial-rank Knight. Had she taken a Gold Potion and resonated with twenty-four Elemental Nodes, she would have been infinitesimally close to the extraordinary, her physiological state would have been locked at around forty-five years old, and with the help of expensive beauty potions, she would look no older than thirty-five.

However, the allure of a mortal’s beauty held less and less appeal for Victor. The vast difference in their level of life and the reality that they could not have children both indicated that Victor and Natalia were no longer of the same kind.

But Natalia and Sophia were extremely close. They had faced life and death together, rescued each other, and trusted each other implicitly, building a deep friendship. They shared a history of growth, wealth, and power—and even the same intimate partner. Moreover, Natalia had rich experience in managing a merchant association, making her a rare talent in business who would undoubtedly hold an important position in The Golden Company in the future.

From the perspective of his family’s interests, Victor ought to continue his intimate partner relationship with Natalia.

Victor studied Natalia with an appraising gaze, his expression stern as he asked, “We haven’t seen each other in over a year… Have you been with other men behind my back?”

Natalia froze for a moment, then her face lit up. “Victor, darling,” she said, her voice filled with pleasant surprise, “are you jealous for my sake?” As she spoke, she reached out, wanting to pinch Victor’s cheeks.

Victor caught her hands. “You haven’t answered my question,” he said, displeased.

Natalia paid it no mind, settling herself into Victor’s lap and wrapping her arms around his neck. She showed him the ring on her finger and, with a smile as radiant as a blooming flower, said, “Of course not! I abide by the partner principles. I belong only to you. As long as I don’t leave you, you can’t abandon me.”

A Knight’s partner relationship had some overlap with marriage, but the principles they followed were different. For a Knight’s partnership, the principles were: power must be respected, and a lover is not a vassal.

As the more powerful party, Victor could establish partner relationships with other female knights without Natalia’s consent. But he first had to seek Sylvia’s opinion; otherwise, Sylvia would have the right to challenge the other woman to a duel. Any female knight who wanted to set her sights on Victor also had to have Sylvia’s tacit approval.

As a woman, Natalia could not have a foot in both camps, but she had the right to break up with Victor and unilaterally dissolve their lover relationship.

The partner principles of Knights protected the rights of women to the greatest extent possible. They decided when to begin or end a partnership, and any children belonged to the mother. If they didn’t initiate a breakup, the male partner could not end the relationship and was required to respect, protect, and provide for her in a manner befitting her status. Their only obligation was to remain faithful to their partner.

A man’s right lay in the initial refusal or agreement. Once he agreed, he had no right to go back on his word, unless Natalia took another lover behind his back… which was almost impossible. She could end their relationship and start a new romance simply by writing Victor a personal letter. Otherwise, Victor would have the right to challenge his rival in love and wash away his shame with the man’s blood.

Before pursuing a female knight, a male noble had to check if she wore a partner’s ring and would be wise to visit a Church to confirm her current relationship status. One-night stands were out of the question; accidentally falling into a death trap like that would be a huge problem. In practice, a knightly lord’s lovers were generally arranged and designated by the lord’s wife.

The Church and the Senate jointly endorsed the partner principles, mainly because female knights bore the responsibility of procreating the bloodline and raising children, while male knights could die on the battlefield at any time. Protecting the rights of female knights was equivalent to protecting the continuation of knightly bloodlines. Meanwhile, a female knight’s obligation of fidelity helped maintain order in the kingdoms, preventing young knights from killing one another over trivial romantic affairs. The higher a noble’s status, the stronger the constraints, making it nearly impossible to find a pretext for disputes arising from emotional entanglements.

This was why the high-ranking female knights of Aerie Fortress had stopped pursuing the young Baron Wimbledon after he married Sophia. Catherine’s relationship with Victor was also only able to proceed after receiving Sylvia’s approval, which was when Countess Ariel finally relaxed her surveillance of the two. Families like the Chapmans and the Briattes had also asked for Sylvia’s opinion in advance; Victor had simply been unaware of it at the time.

No one could steal something of Sylvia’s, especially when it involved an ancient and noble bloodline.

Of course, hogging all the profits was not a good habit. The great nobles of Naville and Sus, also interested in Victor’s bloodline, had approached Sylvia, hoping she would allow their high-ranking female knights to freely pursue Victor. Not wanting to offend her allies, Sylvia had simply used Catherine as a shield. Although Victor was the more powerful party in his relationship with Catherine, he had absolutely no desire to get involved with any more high-ranking female knights.

Once you got involved with a knightly lover, you couldn’t get rid of her. There was little benefit, only a host of troubles. For instance, if a lover’s family faced annihilation, Victor would be morally obligated to offer her protection and find a way to help her rebuild her family.

Love was tied to political interests, so the great nobles had to be extremely cautious in matters of romance.

Natalia and Victor’s partner relationship had been designated by Sophia and was on record with the Church. Not even Sylvia could overturn it.

Regardless of whether Victor had genuine feelings for Natalia or not, at this moment, he had to display his chivalry and respect for his knightly partner. After a long separation from a lover, business had to be set aside. Simple pleasantries would make their relationship seem distant, whereas an unreasonable display of “petty jealousy” was a perfect way to express closeness and importance.

The two were affectionate for a good while, and the sense of unfamiliarity from their long separation gradually faded, as if they had returned to the old days. Natalia leaned on Victor’s shoulder and chuckled softly. “Back at the Marquess’s estate, I was always the one holding you, and you always looked so unhappy… Now that you’re holding me, I’m a little unused to it… but I’m very happy.”

Victor spoke with sincerity. “Back then, I was under the charm of the purple-eyed bloodline, and my eyes saw only Sophia. It was only after I left her that I found myself again and remembered all the people and things I had overlooked… My dear Natalia, I apologize to you on behalf of the young Baron Wimbledon of the past.”

Natalia was silent for a moment, then spoke, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion. “Whether that’s true or not, you’ve moved me… But I’m not the least bit jealous of your passion for Sophia. Without her, I would never have had such a cute and beautiful little husband… Sophia fulfilled all my fantasies about life.”

“Alright, Sophia is your best sister.”

Victor smacked his lips, then lifted a lock of Natalia’s pale gold hair. “What was your dream back then? You must have come from a nobler family than Sophia. Why did you end up wandering?”

The mature and glamorous female knight puffed out her cheeks, a childishly cute expression that betrayed her girlish heart. “There’s no need to mention my blood family’s name,” she said, annoyed. “I’m a distant relative of the Mackenzie family…”

“Mackenzie? The Dukes of the Southern Realm of Sus, the Redhawk family?”

Natalia nodded. “Yes. I naturally awakened my Aura at fifteen and resonated with six Elemental Nodes by nineteen. According to family rules, a noblewoman who doesn’t advance to Knight by twenty must serve a high-ranking Knight. At the time, the master the family arranged for me was the Duke of Mackenzie’s youngest son… I was already preparing for the marriage when my older female cousin secretly told me that if a female apprentice knight serves a high-ranking Knight, her own path to becoming a Knight will be cut off.”

“Sigh, I was still a bit unwilling to accept that… My cousin encouraged me to run away from the marriage and even helped cover for me. I acted on impulse and ran…” Natalia said hatefully, “Only later did I find out that the bitch took my place and married the Duke of Mackenzie’s youngest son, becoming a Silver Knight’s Personal handmaiden.”

Victor was dumbfounded. It was a completely melodramatic, cliche story of a naive and sweet noble girl being schemed against and replaced by her cousin. The most tragic part was that she hadn’t reached the pinnacle of her life’s journey afterward; she had still ended up taking a Vigor Potion, cutting off her path to becoming a high-ranking Knight. Meanwhile, her cousin had a family, children, and a noble and powerful husband. All things being equal, she was probably a female knight herself by now.

Victor asked curiously, “You made sacrifices and suffered hardships, so why did you still take a Vigor Potion?”

Natalia sighed. “I didn’t understand anything back then, and reality is much crueler than fantasy… After I left my family, I couldn’t even afford to eat. Then I met Sophia. The two of us apprentice knights had to rely on Aunt Helen to survive. Eventually, we had no choice but to give up being Rangers and join the Wimbledon Merchant Association together… Sophia was daring enough to smuggle Mithril in the Twilight Forest, but the Meding family found out. If we had been caught, the consequences would have been unimaginable. So we fled into the wilderness, but we were tracked by Gnolls. The situation was critical. Sophia would rather die than take a Vigor Potion. I was so scared, I took the potion to become a Knight… and that’s how it happened.”

Victor couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Natalia pouted. “Don’t laugh.”

That only made it worse. The moment she said it, Victor laughed even harder. In the end, even Natalia started laughing with him.

Jokes aside, Natalia and Sophia’s story was filled with too much bitterness and hardship. Victor admired their resilience and friendship. He nodded and said, “If I get the chance in the future, I’ll help you get your revenge.”

“You mean my cousin?” Natalia smiled charmingly. “There’s really no need. I’m much better off than her now… Sophia and I once dreamed of becoming famous, leading a group of followers, and establishing our own family. Unfortunately, the path of a Ranger didn’t work out… We joined the Merchant association and then dreamed of becoming great commercial nobles, keeping a handsome and obedient little husband, just like the Queen of Sus. You see, haven’t our dreams come true? Even the Queen of Sus’s lovers aren’t as outstanding as you… Now, the nobles of Sasan and Dodor are all talking about Viscount Randell’s glorious deeds and academic achievements. They say you are a natural-born genius on par with Noblewoman Arya… Darling, you are famous now. Sophia and I are so proud of you.”

Victor stroked his smooth chin and said seriously, “That’s a very accurate way of putting it. Almost no female knight Rangers have ever established a family by taming the wilderness. All they have to do is marry a good man to realize their dreams. Clearly, you and Sophia are the most successful examples.”

Natalia laughed until she trembled, resting in Victor’s arms for a long while before looking up. “My dear Victor, I believe that with all my heart.”

Victor nodded. “For you to come all the way from the Dodor Kingdom to see me in Naville on a snowy day, Sophia must have run into some trouble.”

“Yes.”

Natalia gathered her golden hair, smoothed out her dress, and sat beside Victor, her expression turning serious. “Have you heard about the new trade agreement Sophia made with the barbarians?”

“I’d like to hear the details.”

“Actually, the new trade agreement is more of an alliance, with bounties as the focus and trade as a supplement…” Natalia furrowed her brow and began to explain.

During the Season of Water last year, Sophia arrived at Halotes Fortress with the clergy of the Radiant Knights. The conservative faction of barbarian Elders did not welcome outsiders into their holy land and blocked them outside the fortress, demanding that Sophia Urus take the clergy away. Even the intervention of the barbarian Great Elder was useless, as the conservative Elders were in the vast majority. So, the Great Elder proposed a solution: the clergy would undergo a barbarian trial and single-handedly hunt a powerful beast. Those who succeeded could enter the fortress; those who failed would be devoured.

The targets of the barbarian trial were always somewhat stronger than the participants. The Gold Paladin leading the group was assigned to hunt an Earth Dragon. However, the Arreat Plateau was a no-magic zone. Paladins and priests couldn’t use their divine arts, and even Sacred Warriors, whose holy power resided within their bodies, could only use it in its raw form. Without the enhancement of divine arts, how could the clergy possibly hunt an Earth Dragon or a Snow Monster alone?

The Gold Paladin, Clark Testier, proposed an alternative to the barbarians: they would enter the underground caves of the Mountain Dwarves and collectively hunt a satyr queen. The barbarian Elders agreed to his request.

Sophia, Testier, and Wallace led six Silver-rank Adjudicators into the dwarven tunnels and successfully completed the mission of hunting the satyr queen. But nine people went in, and only four came out. Five Adjudicators lost their lives in the underground caves.

The barbarian Elders accepted the clergy of the Radiant Church, but they did not pass the barbarian trial alone, so Halotes did not recognize their status as Urus. They were only acknowledged as followers of Sophia Urus. The alliance was made with Sophia alone, and she was responsible for fulfilling all bounties and transactions. The main terms were that the mountain tribes would cancel their quadrennial grand market and set up a trade post in the Teutonic Duchy for year-round trade with the human kingdoms. In addition to normal goods exchange, the barbarians could trade the head of a Grayhollow Satyr Queen for fifty sets of refined iron weapons and one hundred reindeer, and the head of a Grayhollow warrior for ten sets of weapons and twenty reindeer. Humans were also required to sell at least eight hundred strong, live beasts to the barbarians annually to help them conduct their newborn rituals.

Hearing this, Victor’s expression grew grim. “Was the content of the alliance also proposed by Vice-Commander Clark Testier?” he asked in a low voice.

“I think so,” Natalia replied. “Sophia wouldn’t tell me the specific details…”

Victor rose and walked to the window. Staring out at the white snow through the crystal pane, he said slowly, “The situation might be even worse than we imagined… The specifics do indeed need to be kept secret.”

The Grayhollow Satyr was a type of monster living on the Arreat Plateau. They were omnivores, cannibals, and had a high rate of reproduction and expansion. A satyr queen could birth an entire satyr clan. The young satyrs ate all kinds of plants and grew quickly, serving as food for the queen and the warriors—a survival mechanism that resembled food collection and conversion. Ordinary satyrs killed and ate each other, rapidly evolving into male warriors whose strength and physique rivaled Ogres. When a satyr clan grew to a certain size, a new queen would be born, and the clan would split and expand outward.

The satyr clan’s expansion model was extremely efficient. If not for the barbarians and Mountain Dwarves culling them, they might have already spread from the Arreat Plateau to the Northern Wildlands, or even into the human kingdoms.

With the Mountain Dwarves having migrated from the Arreat Plateau, its ecological balance had been shattered. The satyrs invaded the dwarven tunnels, breeding and expanding continuously. The tall barbarians were helpless against the satyr clans in the tunnels, and life for the mountain tribes grew increasingly difficult as they fell into decline. Humans, in turn, had to be vigilant against two potential future calamities: the barbarians descending from the mountains, followed by the Grayhollow Satyrs.

Either scenario would be a disaster for the human kingdoms.

The Radiant Knights certainly wanted to bypass Sophia and establish direct diplomatic ties with the barbarians. So, what exactly did the vice-commander of the Radiant Knights see in those dwarven tunnels that made him act on his own authority and establish a bounty-based trade alliance with Halotes Fortress?

It was obvious that the ecological imbalance on Arreat had become a strategic imbalance. Clark Testier would rather let Sophia temporarily monopolize barbarian diplomacy and trade than delay in quickly constructing a new strategic balance for Arreat.

Victor’s heart grew heavy. He had long suspected that the Grayhollow Satyrs were connected to the enemies that had invaded the Alchemical Empire. The Alchemy Towers created alchemical creatures by consuming natural resources. The Grayhollow Satyrs, with their rapid breeding and environmental destruction, would devour all renewable plant and animal resources, forcing the Alchemy Towers to shut down.

Did the abnormality of the satyrs in the dwarven tunnels mean that the Great Chasm, patrolled by the barbarians, was also about to change? Were the enemies of the Alchemical Empire stirring?

No! I have to find Sophia as soon as possible and get the details about the dwarven tunnels… Victor turned around and asked, “Where is Sophia now?”

Natalia thought for a moment and replied, “Right now, she and the Stag Caravan should be taking shelter from the snow in Marquess Dwemick’s territory in the Dodor Kingdom. In another two months, she should be back in the Royal Capital of Gambis.” She paused, then asked, “Darling, do you remember Princess Anqi from the Sasan Empire?”

“Anqi, that blue-haired, high-ranking female knight?”

Victor nodded. “I saw her at the Tournament in the Centaur Hills. I remember she has the bloodline of the Sasan royal family, comes from the Moon Bear family in the Teutonic Duchy, and is now married to the heir of Bronze-Halberd City. She’s the next Guardian of Bronze-Halberd City.”

Natalia continued, “She’s also a good friend of Sophia’s… Sophia wants to bring her into The Golden Company to open up a trade route in the Sasan Empire… But Princess Anqi refused. She said that unless Sophia disbands the Wimbledon Merchant Association’s mercenary company, she won’t agree to any form of cooperation.”

“Also, the Dodor Kingdom has begun to develop the Ghost Forest, and the Dwemic family has been excluded, so trade in Stonetooth City is declining. According to the original plan, Sophia tried to win over House DeWeimik to open up a trade route for The Golden Company in the southern part of the Dodor Kingdom. But Marquess Dwemick and the Guardian of Stonetooth City refused to meet with Sophia…”

Natalia looked at Victor, pouting her lips in a wronged expression. “The reason is simple. Your Bear Company infiltrated Marquess Dwemick’s territory and successfully assassinated the Golden Dawn Sparrow Earl… The blame for that has been pinned on Sophia, and it’s made the great nobles wary. They’re demanding that Sophia first give up her mercenary forces and guarantee that her private merchant group is harmless before they’ll even talk about cooperation.”

Victor was silent for a moment, then raised an eyebrow. “What are you trying to say?”

Natalia rose from the sofa and, with a graceful sway of her slender waist, strolled to Victor’s side. She took his hand and said softly, “Darling, Sophia hopes you’ll agree to separate The Bear Company and its mountain strongholds from The Golden Company. That way, she can negotiate with the Dwemic family. She sent me to ask for your opinion…”

“Naive!”

Victor suppressed his annoyance, took a deep breath, and swept the mature, lovely female knight into his arms. He broke into a smile.

“My dear, I was supposed to spend a few days with you, but with so much happening, I have to return to Gambis as soon as possible to speak with Sophia face to face. I’ll set out tomorrow morning for Countess Dekeizer’s earldom to finish my final tasks. Please, make a trip to Stonetooth City tomorrow and tell Sophia to bring her caravan back to Gambis first, then go to the Centaur Hills and stay at Sylvia’s Rose Manor… We can talk about everything else after I get back.”

Natalia’s cheeks flushed. She wrapped her arms around her little husband’s neck and said dazedly, “Mmm, I’ll do whatever you say…”

Chapter 522: The Final Job

Victor was anxious to return to Gambis to find Sophia and learn about the Grayhollow Satyr situation. He didn’t want to delay any longer in Naville. The next morning, after seeing Natalia off, he informed the Church and Boulderhold that he intended to travel light. He would venture on foot through the snow to the Dekeizer Earldom to complete his remaining work within two months.

The high-ranking Sacred Warrior Dimat and King Rex were puzzled by Victor’s sudden change of heart, but they did not press for a reason and instead cooperated with his preparations for departure.

Victor chose three retainers to accompany him: Caligula, Reno, and Shak. The rest of his Personal Guard and attendants remained at the earldom’s manor. From the Church, Dimat and Father Dayn brought two Adjudicators and one third-level battle priest. Knight Conrad from the Auguste family selected two Aerie Fortress Mystic Warriors. The two secret knights from the York family each brought one Mystic Warrior. Together with King Rex’s liaison officer, Enchino, and two guides, they formed a nineteen-man team. That afternoon, they departed from the bustling city of Cogston, embarking on their journey to the Southern Realm of Naville.

It was the month of Snow, and the mountains were sealed by heavy drifts, with the temperature dropping below zero. Although the Kingdom of Naville had roads, they were unlike those in Gambis, where outposts were set up every forty kilometers to regularly clear snow from the main routes. This was especially true in the central and southern regions of Naville, where towns and mountain strongholds were scattered and isolated from one another. Traces of travelers were almost nonexistent. The snow came up to their calves, the roads were slick and difficult to traverse, and the harsh weather conditions made even hunting, setting up camp, and cooking exceptionally difficult.

Fortunately, there were no ordinary people in the group. Even the two esteemed priests had undergone body reconstruction, and their personal strength was no less than that of the Mystic Warriors from Rose Manor. Walking over a hundred kilometers a day was no problem at all.

They simply adopted a method of extreme marching, traveling day and night without eating or sleeping. When hungry, they ate a piece of raw sugar; when thirsty, they drank a mouthful of snow. They walked until they reached a town or fortified village before stopping to rest, eat their fill, and sleep. Once their strength was restored, they would continue on their way.

Though the extreme march was arduous, it was nothing to Victor and his companions. They even had the presence of mind to enjoy the snowy scenery along the way and casually dispose of any beasts or monsters they encountered. Of course, the priests received special care. The tall and sturdy Caligula carried a wicker chair, and the two priests took turns sitting in it, meaning they only walked half the distance of everyone else. The benefits of this arrangement were also obvious: if someone grew tired, a priest would cast a Restoration Art, and they would instantly feel re-energized. If they couldn’t sleep due to the chaotic schedule, a Calming Art would immediately send them into a deep slumber.

The gap in strength between ordinary people and the extraordinary created a bottleneck effect, but the presence of the priests shortened this gap, allowing even the Mystic Warriors to keep pace with the Knights. It could be said that a priest’s divine arts determined the lower limit of a team’s overall strength. Without the priests, Reno and Shak, the two Alchemical Militia, would have severely slowed Victor down.

Thirteen days later, Victor arrived in the Dekeizer Earldom and met Lady Dori in the Dekeizer family’s castle.

The Countess was dressed in exquisitely crafted Mithril armor, a longsword hanging at her waist. Her shawl of beautiful hair was tied into a simple, neat ponytail. It was a complete change from her usual cold and enchanting demeanor, now fully displaying the dashing and heroic bearing of a high-ranking female knight.

“Victor, my apologies. The Earldom’s affairs are demanding. I just returned from a hunt for Windfang with the Sword Mantis Knights and haven’t had time to change.”

Lady Dori handed her longsword and helmet to an attendant and gestured for them to withdraw. She turned and said with delight, “I didn’t expect you to visit the Dekeizer family’s domain during the month of Snow, nor did I expect you to arrive so quickly… Let’s sit and talk.”

Victor bowed slightly to the Countess and sat down on a solid wood chair. “In seven months, Edward will marry Angelina. Catherine and I both need to set aside enough time to prepare for the King and Queen’s wedding celebration.”

This was the excuse Victor had prepared for his change of plans, but Lady Dori just smiled and said, “I heard Sophia went deep into the dwarven caverns on the Arreat Plateau and hunted a monster, forging an alliance between the human kingdoms and the mountain tribes. She should be reaching Gambis soon, shouldn’t she?”

Victor sighed and frowned. “That is precisely what worries me… Her way of doing things is becoming increasingly radical and reckless.”

“Sophia’s achievements today are related to her personality.” Lady Dori nodded, then sized Victor up, her gaze soft and alluring. She pursed her lips in a delicate smile. “And having a lover like you… her luck is enough to make even a silver female knight envious.”

Sophia was a half-goldenized Raging Wave Knight, and the pull of the Elemental Sea on her was exceptionally strong. Every time she mobilized the void element, she risked taking that final step. Actions like delving deep into dwarven caverns and battling monsters could have unforeseeable consequences for her. Yet, if Sophia did nothing, she would soon feel the call of the Elemental Sea and likewise be forced to challenge the Gold realm prematurely. Therefore, she needed to keep herself constantly busy, leaving no time to ponder the secrets of the origin of the world. Sophia’s betrayal of the Gambis Queen and conflict with Aerie Fortress, her rejection of the Kingdom of Borea’s recruitment and struggle with the Southwind Merchant Association—her stubborn personality was one aspect, but the Elemental Sea was also a factor.

To put it simply, Sophia had to have things to do, and if there was nothing, she had to find something. Once she was idle, she would think about breaking through to the Elemental Sea. A romantic life could soothe her body and mind, and if she could have a child with Victor and experience the joy of being a mother, that would be for the best.

In reality, there was no turning back for any Extraordinary Knight. In Lady Dori’s eyes, His Highness Randall was anxious to return to comfort his wife.

Victor was indeed worried about Sophia. Aside from the deep bond between them as husband and wife, Sophia was also his crucial partner. Her current energy was focused on forming The Golden Company, and she temporarily held a monopoly on trade with the barbarians. If something were to happen to her, the entire strategy for The Golden Company would suffer a major setback.

“In any case, I am grateful for your arrival.”

Lady Dori raised a delicate hand, untied the ribbon from her ponytail, and let her long hair fall loose. She inclined her head and said, “Over twenty thousand people have gathered here. I must settle them as soon as possible… I need your help to survey the Dekeizer Earldom for settlement locations.”

“My esteemed lady, I would be happy to be of service.” Victor stood and gave an elegant salute, saying with full confidence, “A month will be more than enough.”

Lady Dori rose and returned a Knight’s salute, her lips curving into a vibrant smile. She asked softly, “Then… Your Highness Randall, how shall I repay you?”

Ignoring the Countess’s teasing, Victor sat back down and said, “Tell me what you are at liberty to tell me.”

“Of course.”

Lady Dori nodded and, after a moment of contemplation, said, “Naville has a bounty on the Gold-rank Gnoll, and over seven thousand mercenaries and rangers have flooded into the Dekeizer Earldom. They can’t handle Windfang, but they can serve as my eyes, ears, and mouths. And I hope they will stay here to become the spears and swords of the Dekeizer family. Therefore, the Dekeizer family has issued many tasks to clear out monsters and tame the Wildmen.”

A lord controls their territory through towns, roads, outposts, villages, armies, and messenger ravens. Soldiers stationed at outposts, upon receiving a message from the lord, can convey their master’s will to nearby villages in just half a day. The villagers, in turn, can travel safely between their villages and the towns via the outposts and roads. Once this system is perfected, even the most distant village from the central town is under the lord’s control.

The terrain in the mountains of Naville is complex, and the lords, especially in the south-central region, lack the means to fully control their territories. Some mountain strongholds are so distant from the lord’s town that a round trip for a Camelope caravan might take dozens of days. Outsiders cannot get in, and those inside cannot get out. The stronghold chief holds the most influence. With one hand covering the sky, they can distort the lord’s will and pass on false information, saying whatever they please. The lord, unable to verify the truth of the information, can only allow them to maintain a semi-autonomous state.

Such mountain folk are called Wildmen. All the mountain strongholds in the Dekeizer Earldom are Wildmen strongholds.

Victor’s water project and New Agro-husbandry could transform the natural environment, linking the mountain settlements together and solving the practical problems of Naville’s lords at their root. But this would be a long process. In the meantime, the Wildmen strongholds could, like monsters, impede the fief’s new agricultural and pastoral development. Moreover, each Wildman stronghold is a natural settlement, so of course, Lady Dori could no longer leave these Wildmen to their own devices.

Without proper justification, actions cannot be successful. If a lord were to directly send troops to attack a Wildmen stronghold, the Church’s clergy would be obligated to intervene. The hunt for the Gold-rank Gnoll provided a perfect excuse for the lords and the Church. The Kingdom of Naville posted a bounty on Windfang, and Lady Dori recruited rangers and mercenaries to clear out the monsters in her territory, exercising her duty as a lord to protect her lands. When conflicts arise between the mercenaries and the Wildmen strongholds, the lord adjudicates. The verdict would certainly result in the death or surrender of the Wildmen leaders. The lord’s army would then enter the Wildmen strongholds, dismantle their closed power structure, and resettle the scattered Wildmen.

In the end, the Wildmen, mercenaries, rangers, and freemen laborers were all cooked into one pot by the Countess, allowing the Dekeizer family to absorb them and grow stronger.

This was why Victor had ordered Warhammer Camp 4 to withdraw. The Dekeizer family would not spare a single Wildmen stronghold.

Eight years ago, when Victor pioneered the Randell Fief, the first thing he faced was freemen camps of all sizes. He directly ordered Narsen to break several refugee strongholds, killing over two hundred people. Yet, right up until the eve of the ant swarm that swept through the Randell Fief, Victor had never been able to completely solve the refugee problem.

In comparison, Lady Dori’s methods were more brilliant and subtle. However, the Dekeizer family had the full support of the Church and the Kingdom, whereas House of Randall back then had nothing and could only resort to the simplest and crudest methods.

Victor felt a sense of empathy and nodded with considerable emotion. “When I first pioneered my fief, I encountered the same problem.”

Viscount Randall was now an object of study and attention for all major powers; his past had been thoroughly dug up. Lady Dori had heard of the difficulties he had faced and said with a smile:

“Victor, you are a natural-born sage. You should be able to see that the Dekeizer family is preparing to trade with the Randt Imperial territory. The mountain folk of Naville have a habit of robbing people and goods. If I don’t tame them, I cannot guarantee the safety of the Camelope caravans, nor can I guarantee the progress of the water projects and New Agro-husbandry.”

Victor nodded and asked, “Are you in contact with Neo Wester?”

“There is contact, but it has nothing to do with you.”

Lady Dori shook her head and said, “Your statuses are too sensitive. I don’t have the power to arrange a meeting for you, nor can I guarantee anything. However, if you want to meet with Neo Wester, I can pass a message for you, but you cannot meet openly in my territory. At least, not where I would know about it.”

Victor shook his head with a light laugh. “I don’t plan to meet with him.”

Lady Dori was silent for a few seconds before speaking. “Listen, Victor. You are famous now, just like a Gold Knight. The Church monitors your every move, and the great families can learn of your whereabouts through the cathedral… Neo Wester knows you are currently in the Dekeizer Earldom.”

Victor blinked and raised an eyebrow. “So?”

Dori said earnestly, “With your current status, no one can make decisions for you. But the greater your influence, the more useful you are to Neo Wester. The three Patriarchs of the Holy See and the Radiant Knights all hope for Gambis to reconcile with the Neo Wester family. We in Naville are unwilling to offend the Auguste family, and it’s also difficult to refuse the Holy See’s suggestion… On this matter, we remain neutral. However, Neo Wester is, after all, one of the three Legendary Knights. If he wants to slip into the Dekeizer Earldom, I have no ability to stop him. I hope you can understand.”

“Understandable… House Dekeizer remaining neutral is also what I hope for.”

Victor smiled and nodded, then rose and performed a salute. “I will start surveying the terrain of the Dekeizer Earldom tomorrow,” he said politely. “I’ll go back and rest first.”

“I am in your debt, Your Excellency,” Lady Dori said, rising to return the salute, her smile like a blooming flower.

“Excuse me.” Victor nodded and turned to walk out the door.

Watching Victor’s tall, slender back disappear through the door, Lady Dori sighed inwardly with emotion.

Eight years ago, this handsome young viscount was flustered just dealing with a few refugee camps. Now, he could decide the political landscape of the kingdoms and was one of the top figures of his time.

Chapter 523: Bloodline Common Ground

Lady Dori’s attitude was clear: whether Neo Wester and Victor would meet was for the two parties to decide themselves. At most, she would help pass a message, but she would not get involved in the specifics, nor would she even permit the two to meet openly on Naville’s soil.

The Dekeizer Earldom was a Pioneer Fief, and Lady Dori had yet to gain complete control over its entire territory. If Neo Wester wanted to infiltrate it, she couldn’t stop him, and she had no idea whether Victor was willing to meet with the Randt Emperor.

Currently, the powers with the means to expand into the Southern Continent included Borea, Sus, the Randt Imperial territory, and Gambis. The Kingdom of Borea had a Barbarian Kingdom on the opposite shore, the people of Sus were held in check by the beastmen of the Twilight Forest, and the Randt Imperial territory lacked the strength to build a port on the North Shore of Lake Fies. Only Gambis possessed formidable power and held the initiative in the expansion south of the river. If the armies of Borea or Sus were to enter Randt Imperial territory and challenge Gambis’s core interests, war would break out immediately.

Everyone hoped that Gambis and the Randt Imperial territory would reconcile, allowing the southern expansion forces to unite and face the unknown challenges together. However, on this matter, the Church, Sus, Borea, Naville, and Neo Wester all acted with caution. Victor had been staying in Naville for nearly a year, yet Neo Wester had not made a single appearance before him.

The fundamental reason was that the core members of the Gambis royal family were more emotional than rational. When they had a whim, they would throw the playbook out the window, and no one knew what they would do. Sylvia was in a hurry to enhance the York family’s bloodline, but with her hands tied by Auguste, she could only choose to bide her time. Victor’s situation was the same; whether the House of Randell had an heir with a noble bloodline was for Aerie Fortress to decide.

In truth, even if Victor were not constrained by Aerie Fortress, he had no desire to deal with Neo Wester. For The Golden Company to ascend to the world stage, building a port on Lake Fies was an excellent entry point. It would allow The Golden Company to complete its magnificent transformation from a purely commercial organization into a commercial-military conglomerate.

With Aerie Fortress’s attitude unclear, Victor could not openly meet with Neo Wester. He prepared to hand this matter over to Sophia for her to handle.

His most pressing task was to return to the Randell Fief, activate Alchemy Tower No. 7, and discuss the Grayhollow Satyr, The Golden Company, and many other matters with Sophia.

For the time being, Victor pushed this little interlude to the back of his mind and focused on completing the work at hand.

Over the next ten-odd days, Victor surveyed the core region of the Dekeizer Earldom, a territory of over four thousand square kilometers. He replanned their water project and new agropastoral system, then traveled without rest to the earldom’s periphery to survey the terrain around the Wildmen mountain strongholds.

The Dekeizer Earldom had fourteen Wildmen mountain strongholds, each one a habitable human settlement that could be converted into a small town or village to protect the earldom’s core region. Once he had surveyed all these strongholds and integrated their agropastoral plans with the core towns of the earldom, Victor’s work in Naville would be complete.

It was now early January in the Season of Earth. The gloom that shrouded the sky had not yet fully dissipated, and ice and snow still covered the mountains and forests. Victor stood atop a redwood tree, gazing at the surrounding scenery. The mournful mountain wind, carrying fine particles of snow, rustled against the branches and slid gently past him, unable to stir even his mink-fur cloak.

After committing the layout of the surrounding mountains and rivers to memory with X-3, Victor leaped down from the redwood. He took a quill and a piece of hide paper from Liaison Officer Enchino and quickly began to write and draw.

Sacred Warrior Dimat walked over. Watching Victor record the topographical markers, he said with a smile, “This is the last area. Once we finish this, we can go home.”

“Two more days at most.”

Victor nodded, handed the finished hide paper to Enchino, and gestured for him to take out another blank piece.

Enchino looked embarrassed and stammered, “My lord, this is the last piece of hide paper… I’ll go to a nearby stronghold right away to get some more. Please wait for me here…”

“Absolutely not!”

Dimat shook his head firmly and said in a grave tone, “Windfang has been lying low for over a month without leaving a trace. According to the Sword Mantis Knights’ report, it should be trapped in the eastern mountains. However, the Wildmen in a stronghold to the west suddenly evacuated, and several nearby strongholds have reported seeing Windfang… Right now, no one is certain if Windfang has slipped into the western mountains… In any case, we must be careful. Everyone moves together and maintains a five-meter distance from each other.”

The evacuated stronghold was Warhammer Camp No. 4. Victor hadn’t expected Iron Hammer’s withdrawal to cause such a chain reaction. The Wildmen in the strongholds near Warhammer Camp No. 4 grew suspicious and fearful, one after another requesting aid from Countess Dekeizer. The Dekeizer family thus justifiably took control of all the western strongholds, dispatching mercenaries and Rangers to their western territories to search for any sign of Windfang. Even the Sword Mantis Knights had sent a mobile force south.

Although it was not yet certain that Windfang had infiltrated the western part of the Dekeizer Earldom, a hole had appeared in the encirclement laid by the Sword Mantis Knights; it was no longer airtight.

What was certain was that Windfang had not preyed on any large animals for over a month. It was in its weakest state and desperately needed to eat to replenish its strength. The Dekeizer Earldom was crawling with scouts and informants; if Windfang dared to show itself, it was doomed. For this very reason, the cornered Gnoll had become exceptionally dangerous.

For safety, Dimat had left Father Dayn and the Mystic Warriors at the Dekeizer family’s castle, bringing only the level-three battle priest with them. Dayn was a High-ranked Priest; without him, the level-three battle priest would receive the Adjudicators’ primary protection, making him even safer. Dimat had originally wanted to exclude Reno and Shak as well, but Victor insisted on bringing them, so Dimat had to relent.

In truth, with a danger pre-cognizant like Caligula in the group, there was no need to worry about Windfang’s threat. Unable to launch a surprise attack, Windfang couldn’t even handle Dimat alone, let alone with a Gold-rank Wind Walk Archer nearby.

So everyone was quite relaxed, marching in a single file with a two-meter spacing towards a nearby stronghold. After walking for about five kilometers, Caligula suddenly stopped. Standing on a hill, he gazed eastward.

Dimat raised a hand, signaling the column to halt. Resting his hand on his sword hilt, he walked to Caligula’s side and asked in a low voice, “Aka, what is it?”

Caligula said uneasily, “I feel… we might run into that monster.”

The five Knights and two Silver-rank Adjudicators immediately closed ranks, forming a circle around Victor, the priest, and Caligula. Dimat’s eyes lit up as he pressed, “Can you sense which direction it’s in?”

Caligula glanced at the high-ranking Sacred Warrior’s excited face, then raised a hand and pointed west, saying hesitantly, “It’s… I think it’s over there.”

“The southwest? Isn’t that where Countess Dekeizer’s town is? Why would Windfang go there to die?” Dimat said, completely baffled.

The group exchanged glances, and seeing Caligula’s timid, shrinking posture, they burst into laughter.

The cowardly fellow was trying to hide in the Dekeizer family’s castle, so he had deliberately claimed the monster was to the west.

Dimat shook his head and chided him with a laugh, “You little rascal, you’ve actually learned to be clever…”

The group’s laughter grew louder, but Victor’s expression was stern, his eyes cold as he asked, “Aka, which direction is it, really?”

Caligula dared not deceive his master. He hung his head and pointed eastward. “That direction.”

Victor was silent for a few seconds before he said coldly, “Caligula, I am very disappointed in you. Lying to your companions could get many people killed. Whatever your reasons, since you came out with us, you entrust your safety to us. Any deception or concealment will cause you to lose our trust. When we get back, go to Reno and receive ten lashes, and you will not eat for three days… I hope you learn from this. If there is a next time, I will abandon you! Do you understand?”

Caligula nodded repeatedly, like a child who had done something wrong.

Misleading one’s companions was a terrible offense under any circumstances, but everyone believed the big guy had meant no harm. After Victor finished reprimanding his own retainer, Dimat spoke up, “If Caligula’s intuition is correct, Windfang should still be near the Sword Mantis Knights’ encirclement. I reckon Farul and the others will be closing the net soon… Do you want to go and watch?”

Victor shot a fierce glare at Caligula before turning his head. “Psychic intuition is a vague premonition. A general direction won’t help us pinpoint the Gnoll’s location. I think we should finish the task at hand first. If there’s enough time, we can go join the excitement.” After a pause, he added teasingly, “Windfang has been so scared it hasn’t dared to show itself for two months. I don’t think the Sword Mantis Knights will let it slip away this time.”

The Gold-rank Gnoll had created some trouble for the Kingdom of Naville, but the Navillians had also used the hunt for Windfang to its fullest extent. As Windfang was driven from the Misty Mountains in the east to the Dekeizer Earldom in the south, the Wildmen strongholds along its path all pledged their allegiance to the lords. The Kingdom of Naville also recruited a large number of mercenaries and Rangers, all while promoting the renown of the King, the Church, and the lords. The entire incident had been turned into a classic case of knightly protection, clerical redemption, and popular devotion.

Dimat also smiled and nodded. “Let’s head to the nearby stronghold to resupply first.”

There was only one stronghold nearby, whose Wildmen had submitted to the Dekeizer family three months ago. It now served as a supply post for the Sword Mantis Knights and mercenaries. Victor had spent the night in this very stronghold two days prior.

The group continued onward. After cresting a hill, the stronghold was already in sight. But Victor noticed eighty-seven fully armed soldiers, including five Sword Mantis Knights, gathered at the edge of the forest twenty-seven kilometers north of the stronghold.

Dimat channeled holy power to his eyes but could only make out eighty-seven small black dots, unable to discern their identities. He asked Victor, “What’s happening over there?”

“Sword Mantis Knights… It looks like Windfang has appeared,” Victor said with a frown.

“That beast finally couldn’t hold out any longer.” A grim smile stretched across Dimat’s lips. He turned his head and raised an eyebrow. “So?”

Clergy could gain Divine Favor by slaying man-eating monsters, and the three Adjudicators were all eager to try. Victor nodded with a smile and said, “Since we’ve run into it, of course we have to go take a look.”

“Haha, then what are we waiting for? Let’s go!” Dimat, full of spirit, rushed to the front of the group.

An hour later, Victor and the others approached the forest. The soldiers’ hounds were the first to bark wildly at them. The leading Sword Mantis Knight was delighted when he saw who was approaching and shouted:

“My lord Dimat, Your Excellency Randell, what brings you here?”

“So it is Viscount Stanley.”

Dimat greeted him warmly and explained, “His Excellency Randell and I were just passing by when we noticed the commotion here, so we came to see what was going on.”

Stanley motioned for his colleagues and the soldiers to remain on alert while he went forward alone, leading Victor and Dimat to the scene. As they walked, he said, “Praise the Supreme Lord. I just found traces of Windfang here and sent a messenger raven to inform the four Highnesses, and then you two lords arrived.”

Dimat asked, “What exactly happened?”

“Last night, Windfang raided the camp and abducted a mother and her child. It was too dark, and I was worried about the camp, so I chose to hold our position and didn’t dare to lead a pursuit. This morning, I sent scouts out to search. Following the tracks Windfang left, we tracked it all the way here and found that the woman had been killed. Her baby is missing, likely taken into the forest by Windfang. I’m afraid it’s unlikely to survive… Look, right here.”

A mutilated corpse lay face down at the edge of the forest, surrounded by shredded clothing. The dark red bloodstains were particularly glaring against the pure white snow.

She looked to be about twenty years old, a young woman. Her lower body had been completely devoured, but her chest and head were intact. Her left arm was frozen stiff in the snow, stretched forward as if trying to reach something. Her lower lip was torn, and two streams of bloody tears had flowed from her dull eyes, yet a smile of encouragement was frozen on her deathly pale face.

Victor had seen Gnolls, Ogres, and bear-headed Goblins, but this was the first time he had ever seen a human savaged by a monster. He had killed monsters and enemies with his own hands and thought himself accustomed to life and death, but the tragic scene before him struck his heart with an impact he had never experienced before.

Power comes from responsibility, and responsibility comes from ability. The greater the ability, the greater the responsibility. The clergy see their followers as their flock; a lord sees their people as their wealth. Setting aside the differences in status, upon seeing one of their own kind slaughtered by a monster, the weak would be terrified, while the strong would be consumed by rage.

It was because of his power that Victor could clearly reconstruct what had happened. The Gnoll had tossed the baby in front of the victim, then, like skinning prey, tore off her clothes, pinned her back, and began to eat her from the feet up. The intense pain made the young woman scream and struggle desperately, leaving clawing marks in the snow. Her child, terrified, cried and crawled towards its mother again and again, only to be kicked away by the Gnoll. Knowing that she and her child could not escape, the young mother endured the pain, bit through her lip, broke her teeth, her eye sockets tearing as she shed tears of blood. She fixed a smile of encouragement on her face, stretching out her arm, wanting one last time to touch and soothe her terrified child.

The Gnoll Windfang had eaten a mother in front of her baby!

It was because of his power that Victor could so clearly feel the victim’s pain and despair, the depth of her maternal love, and the monster’s cruelty. The stronger he was, the more intense the feeling became. Complex and powerful emotions brewed deep within him, and strength surged ceaselessly from within his body, so much so that he was unwilling to let X-3 calm him down.

“She was eaten alive!”

The high-ranking Sacred Warrior’s face was grim. “When Windfang hunts large prey, it’s bound to leave traces, and hunting an adult human would also expose it. It chose to raid a human camp, abduct a mother and son, and deliberately lead us here to see it eat a person alive and take the child… This is a provocation! It wants to enrage us, to draw out the experts from the Sword Mantis Knights. If it succeeds in breaking through just once, it can use its speed to escape!”

“Hehehe, Windfang plans to fight us to the death in this forest.”

“My lord, your insight is sharp as a torch, I…”

Caligula suddenly rushed forward, letting out a deafening roar towards the depths of the forest. The rolling sound wave was filled with thunderous fury, startling birds into flight, sending beasts fleeing, and causing the snow on the branches to fall in a cascade.

It was a roar of vengeance, a declaration of a certain kill.

Sorrow, rage, vengeance, the hunt… Victor understood: revenge and the hunt were the common ground between the human and elven bloodlines.

The mind was the sovereign, the bloodline its law. The sovereign wielded the law to fulfill its own desires. X-3 set revenge and the hunt as its primary mission and no longer controlled the host’s emotional fluctuations. The intense desire pushed the integration of his bloodlines forward. Victor’s spirit, his bloodline’s power, broke past its limit, causing his body, his soul, and even X-3 to undergo a metamorphosis.

“Hey, Caligula, calm down. Windfang wants us to go in there and fight it to the death… Wait for the Sword Mantis Knights to surround the area. We’ll go into the forest together. With you leading the way for us, I guarantee it will die this time…”

Viscount Stanley had heard of Caligula’s reputation and tried to persuade him, hoping Caligula would join their coordinated effort. Not far behind him, an intense fluctuation of fire element made the Great Knight of Naville turn his head sharply. He saw Viscount Randell kneeling on the ground, reaching out to close the victim’s eyes.

“I have no memory of my birth mother… and this is the first time I have seen a human mother savaged by a Gnoll.” Victor raised his head and said calmly, “Priest, please pray for this mother.”

The level-three battle priest stared blankly into Victor’s eyes. He only snapped out of it when Dimat nudged him. He walked over to the victim, made the sign of a holy symbol in the air, and intoned, “Pitiable soul, may you find peace in the Supreme Lord’s divine kingdom.”

Dimat said cautiously, “Victor, you…”

“Windfang has enraged me. I will kill it with my own hands.” Victor nodded, tore off his cloak, and ordered Reno, “Prepare my weapons.”

Reno immediately took the Eagle Wing Bow from his back, undid the leather straps on the bow’s limbs, and re-strung it with the Spider silk bowstring. Victor inspected his two Adamantine longswords, letting Shak hang two quivers and a tactical pouch on him. He then took the Eagle Wing Bow from Reno, drew it back experimentally, and nodded in satisfaction before gesturing for Caligula to come over.

Caligula walked before his master and knelt on one knee. Victor clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Aka, I’m taking this one for myself.”

Victor turned back to the Great Knight of the Sword Mantis Knights and said, “Your Excellency Stanley, Her Highness Sylvia once told me, ‘Anyone who obstructs my path as a Knight is a mortal enemy!’ Please convey my will to the five Highnesses of Naville… If I succeed, there will be a generous reward!”

At that moment, a golden light swirled within Victor’s dark eyes—brilliant, noble, and impossible to look at directly, as majestic as a divine being.

Stanley performed a standard Knight’s salute, lowered his head, and said with utmost respect, “As you wish, esteemed Your Highness Randell.”

Victor’s figure vanished into the forest. Stanley sidled up to Dimat and asked in a low voice, “My lord, do you think His Highness Randell is a legendary Sun Elf?”

Dimat shook his head, his expression grave. “According to the records, the Sword Saint Draven had dark golden eyes and golden hair. Victor is not quite there yet, but he has undoubtedly taken the most crucial step. When he comes out, he should… no, he will certainly transform towards the Sun Elf bloodline.”

“My lord, Windfang is not easy to deal with… What if, by some chance, something happens to His Highness Randell? What should we do then?” Stanley asked uneasily.

Dimat rolled his eyes and said, “Do whatever you want… If you’re not afraid of dying, you can lead your men in… Give me paper and a pen.”

Stanley chuckled and gestured for an attendant to present Dimat with a letter and a goose quill.

The Vice-Commander of the Templars thought for a moment, then put pen to paper:

On January 3rd of Radiant Year 7571, the Gnoll Windfang brutally murdered a mother and child of the Mountain folk in the eastern mountains of the Dekeizer Earldom. His Highness Victor W. Randell, greatly angered, his eyes glowing with a golden light, entered the forest alone, vowing to hunt down Windfang and avenge the fallen.

“Copy this letter and circulate it to all the dioceses.”

Chapter 524: Honing

Naville’s mixed forests had a peculiar environment and complex terrain. Coniferous trees stood tall and straight, with wide gaps between them; deciduous trees had short, thick trunks and interconnected canopies. The two grew intermingled, making the woods sparse at times and dense at others, creating diverse variations in space and light. At this moment, ice and snow covered the land. The forest was a patchwork of colors, and animal tracks crossed the pure white snow, only to vanish into the dark earth beneath the trees.

In such an environment, tracking prey was difficult, but misleading a hunter was simple. If the hunter was misled, their roles would instantly reverse.

To be precise, the hunter was also the prey, and the prey was also the hunter.

Victor stood on the branch of a redwood, using the canopy and snow to conceal his form. His eyes were half-closed, his breath barely perceptible. He was completely in the stealth state of Life Concealment, his life force retracted as if he were a dead thing. Yet his spirit was active and his Perception keen, aware of the slightest stirrings within a five-kilometer radius.

He had not let rage cloud his judgment. Instead, he had first calmly analyzed and considered all the known factors to formulate the most effective tactics, all to achieve his ultimate goal: to hunt and kill Windfang.

Windfang was infamous. It frequently attacked human armies in the Twilight Forest and had once killed a Great Knight and a Silver-rank Adjudicator. The soldiers and clergy of the Kingdom of Sus had witnessed Windfang in battle many times. The Church had even compiled a special file on it, listing it as a top-tier target for Rangers. The combined bounties on Windfang from the Kingdom of Naville, the Kingdom of Sus, and the Church exceeded two hundred and ninety thousand Gold Sols.

Victor had never seen this renowned Gold-rank Gnoll, but through the Sacred Warrior Dimat, he had already gained a detailed understanding of it.

Windfang was a male Gnoll in a Deeply Savaged State and possessed three extraordinary talents: wild intuition, Bloodlust, and Wind Walk.

Every extraordinary talent had its own foundation; a creature awakening a Bloodline talent was a gradual process. Take the Gnoll’s Bloodlust, for example. For a certain period, it could increase a Gnoll’s strength and speed, drive its mind into a frenzy, make it reckless, dull its sensation of pain, and render it immune to the fear of death. The higher the level of the Bloodlust talent, the stronger the effect, with the maximum boost being a sixty-percent increase in strength and speed.

Such a massive power boost required a strong body and a high Spirit attribute to support it. Victor had witnessed this firsthand during his first encounter with Gnolls in the Centaur Hills, where he saw a Gnoll chieftain continue to counterattack Knight Eskri even after its heart had been pierced.

Therefore, the prerequisites for the Bloodlust talent were life fortitude sufficient to endure severe injuries and a Spirit attribute capable of controlling the surge in strength and speed.

Windfang was clearly far more powerful than the Gnoll chieftain from the Centaur Hills. In addition to a higher-level Bloodlust, it also possessed the Wind Walk talent.

The prerequisite for the Wind Walk talent was extraordinary Perception. Gnolls were born with keen senses, including night vision, a sensitive sense of smell, and superior hearing. The fact that Windfang had mastered the Gnoll’s Wind Walk talent indicated that its innate senses surpassed the limits of an ordinary Gnoll.

Moreover, a Gnoll’s Wind Walk allowed it to infuse its body with the wind element, reducing its weight and giving it the ability to change direction in mid-air. The Wind Walk Gnoll that Victor had killed with his own hands had changed direction in the air to evade Nicole’s horizontal slash.

The combat value of this ability was beyond question, and it was also extremely useful for evading trackers. For instance, based on the footprints Windfang left behind, one might search about twenty meters straight ahead, but it could change direction in the air and land elsewhere, using its old tracks to mislead its pursuers.

Compared to Bloodlust and Wind Walk, what gave Victor the biggest headache was Windfang’s wild intuition.

The wild intuition of intelligent creatures comprised two aspects: premonition of danger and Combat intuition.

Premonition of danger was a form of vague premonition. Since Victor was determined to kill Windfang, the moment he entered this forest, Windfang had a general sense of his direction. The closer they got, the clearer its perception would become. This meant Windfang could lock onto Victor’s position in advance.

Combat intuition was pre-judgment in battle, often allowing one to seize an opponent’s weakness for a fatal blow, or to turn the tables and snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. Narsen had once relied on his Combat intuition to slay a Sasan Knight who was stronger than him. Windfang’s mid-air directional changes combined with its Combat intuition complemented each other perfectly, making its attacks and evasions unpredictable.

However, Windfang’s talents also had their own shortcomings. Bloodlust offered no defensive boost, nor did it grant Elemental Resistance. Victor’s Azure Blade could slice it in two with a single strike; no amount of life fortitude would help. Furthermore, Bloodlust had a time limit. Once it was exceeded, Windfang would fall into a weakened state.

Secondly, a Gnoll’s Wind Walk could not imbue objects with the wind element, so Windfang would not use weapons or equipment. This meant its most powerful attacks were in close-quarters combat.

Considering all factors, Windfang was a Gnoll with high attack, low defense, high Perception, and high agility, coupled with strong life fortitude. It excelled at stealth, ambushes, and unarmed combat.

In fact, the time Windfang killed the Great Knight from the Kingdom of Sus, it had first used its wild intuition to predict the opponent’s position, then silently crept near the target. Catching him off guard, it pierced his heart with a single claw before swiftly escaping into the Twilight Forest. That Semi-elementalized Great Knight had not managed to hold on for the Aid of a High-ranked Priest and had ultimately fallen.

Windfang certainly outclassed Victor in strength and also had the advantage in speed. If it adopted ambush tactics, the probability of it successfully killing Victor was very high. But Victor’s greatest strength was ranged attacks, and his Life Concealment could block wild intuition, rendering him invisible to the opponent’s senses.

Ambushes were also the tactic he excelled at.

The most critical question now was, how could he lure Windfang into the range of his Eagle Wing Bow and lock onto its precise location first?

X-3 distinguished and filtered the various sounds within a three-thousand-meter radius, marking the sounds of air brushing against branches and of animals moving and foraging. A holographic map composed of different sound sources formed in Victor’s mind, yet he still couldn’t detect any unusual activity.

“Right, I’m currently ‘invisible’,” Victor thought. “Windfang is unsure of my location. It’s suspicious and has chosen to lie low… I can’t find it, so I must make it come to me…” Victor exited Life Concealment, drew a feathered arrow, nocked it to his Eagle Wing Bow, and aimed at an animal in a clearing not far away before loosing the Adamantine arrow.

It was a wild bear, roused from its hibernation by Caligula’s earlier roar. After a moment of panic, it was overcome by the fire of hunger in its belly and was digging through the snow, searching for edible tubers and small animals hidden beneath. But disaster struck from the heavens. A feathered arrow wreathed in a cyan-black airflow pierced its skull. The resulting turbulence exploded within its cranium, pulping its brain. Without so much as a grunt, it collapsed onto the snow, killed instantly.

Victor entered Life Concealment once again. Since killing the bear hadn’t made much noise, X-3 easily corrected the sound source map. The howling of the mountain wind through the trees remained unchanged, but the animal communities shifted subtly. The bear’s blood attracted the attention of numerous predators. They approached the source of the scent, causing a commotion among the forest’s inhabitants. X-3 identified wolf packs, mountain cats, forest badgers, jackals, and Serpent-headed vultures, adding their sound signatures to the new map.

Before long, a wolf pack defeated the other predators and began feasting on the bear’s corpse. Victor stood on a treetop, waiting patiently, and soon noticed something amiss.

To the southwest, 1123 meters away, a troop of monkeys suddenly fell silent. Then, 893 meters away, the sounds of a herd of forest deer ceased abruptly. 674 meters away, a nest of squirrels in a tree hollow stopped moving. Yet, Victor heard no other sounds.

No ordinary beast had the need, or the ability, to move through the forest so silently as to evade Victor’s hearing.

It had to be Windfang!

The forest denizens couldn’t hear Windfang’s movements. By the time they saw the Gnoll, it was already too close. They didn’t dare sound an alarm, falling into a stiff, terrified silence.

The sound source holographic map constructed by X-3 was a balanced acoustic warning system. Windfang’s superb stealth ironically exposed its trail, like a stone tossed into a calm pond, the ripples instantly catching Victor’s attention. He quickly sketched out Windfang’s stealth speed and trajectory in his mind, using the changes in sound signals to predict and verify his hypotheses. After some minor adjustments and calculations, he arrived at a vague location.

However, the sound source holographic map had many blank areas. When Windfang entered one of these, Victor lost track of it and could only delineate a general area where it might be hiding. Whether Windfang was moving, or in what direction, Victor had no way of knowing. What he could be sure of was that Windfang was hidden somewhere in the woods around the bear’s corpse, secretly watching.

Victor and Windfang both knew the other was nearby, but neither knew the other’s exact position.

Now, it was a battle of patience. The first to reveal themselves would be the loser.

Time ticked by. The sun shifted west behind the clouds, the light changed, and the forest gradually dimmed. Suddenly, Victor realized he had made a mistake.

Maintaining the Life Concealment state required him to remain stationary. The moment Victor moved, Windfang would be able to lock onto his position. But if Windfang moved, it would be very difficult for Victor to detect. Although Victor had the dim vision talent, it couldn’t compare to Windfang’s night vision. If he dragged this out until the sunless night, Victor’s extraordinary vision and shooting accuracy would be hampered, which would work to Windfang’s advantage.

Judging from Windfang’s actions—raiding a human camp, kidnapping a Mountain folk mother and child, and deliberately provoking its pursuers—it understood human Knights very well. This also suggested it had been pushed into a desperate corner by the Sword Mantis Knights, forced to burn its bridges and strike back… The Sword Mantis Knights clearly had a way to determine Windfang’s general location, and Windfang, in turn, could sense the source of the danger. It was using itself as bait, luring the Sword Mantis Knights to encircle this forest and tighten their cordon. If it could successfully break through their encirclement, it could use its speed to shake off the most threatening Gold Knight. If the breakout failed, it could still use the terrain to kill a few more Sword Mantis Knights… So, for Windfang, which had higher priority: escape or counterattack?

Windfang had wreaked havoc in Naville for over a year, killing and wounding more than eight hundred humans in total, but the frequency of its attacks had plummeted. Aside from this recent night raid on the mountain stronghold, there hadn’t been a single other case of Windfang attacking humans in recent months. This indicated that Windfang’s hatred for humans had waned; its primary goal was now to escape.

A Gold Knight’s elemental Perception could detect Windfang’s Bloodlust talent, and when Bloodlust ended, it would leave the body weakened. If it wanted to escape, it couldn’t use Bloodlust during the day. At night, however, that restriction was lifted… The nighttime forest was Windfang’s home turf!

The probability of me making a preemptive strike with the bow now is very low. The chance of a close-quarters engagement is almost one hundred percent… My threat to Windfang in close combat is relatively low, so it’s unlikely to use Bloodlust on me… Assuming Windfang doesn’t use Bloodlust, the gap in our strength and speed won’t be that great. I’m wearing Double-headed Dragon-Lizard leather armor, and with the toughness effect from my Surge talent, I should be able to withstand a surprise attack… I have Blind Sense with a two-meter range. If Windfang doesn’t use Bloodlust to boost its speed, it’s impossible for it to ambush me successfully! Besides, my Apocalypse can maximize all my talents and combat techniques, allowing me to counter-kill Windfang if its ambush fails!

Victor analyzed the Gold-rank Gnoll’s mentality, weighed his own abilities, and decided to take a risk to lure and kill his opponent.

He shot and killed several wild wolves in quick succession, sending the pack fleeing into the forest. Deactivating his “invisibility,” Victor hung his Eagle Wing Bow on a branch, slid down from the treetop to the ground, and drew the two Adamantine longswords from his waist. He plunged the boa-skin scabbards into the ground and walked toward the mauled corpse of the bear.

The bear’s corpse had been mangled by the wolves, and a thick, bloody stench filled the air. Victor’s boots crunched on the snow, the sound punctuating a deathly silence, as if he were the only living thing in the area. Victor knew perfectly well that in the dark forest, the Gnoll was watching his every move. He didn’t know where Windfang was hiding, but he was certain it would appear behind him.

A light breeze swirled around his body. Victor, holding the two Adamantine longswords, walked unhurriedly into the broadleaf forest. X-3 recorded every tree, every thicket of thorns, every rock. He could run through the forest at full speed, weaving and dodging, even with his eyes closed.

Windfang definitely couldn’t do that, but it would assume the forest environment was to its advantage.

Victor understood Windfang, but Windfang did not understand its opponent. This was his advantage!

The Gold-rank Gnoll was even more cautious and patient than he had imagined. Victor made a circuit through the woods, but it never launched a surprise attack or made any deceptive probes. There was only a deathly quiet that slowly pressed down on its opponent’s mind.

Victor’s mind was clear of distractions. He walked with his twin swords toward the clearing outside the deciduous forest. As his boots stepped onto the snow once more, the blade of an Adamantine longsword reflected a blurry shadow silently drifting down from the canopy behind him.

Now—Apocalypse!

His Soul Fire blazed fiercely, and his spiritual power instantly leaped to another level. His deep, dark eyes turned golden, and his Blind Sense expanded to a 3.6-meter radius. The flow of time seemed to distort and slow, and everything around him became slow motion, every detail presented in his mind without omission.

The gentle breeze around his body turned into a cyan-black airflow. He leaped backward, spun, and thrust. The descending black shadow unfolded before Victor’s eyes like a freeze-frame.

It had a slender, streamlined body, topped with the head of a hyena. Its eyelids were half-closed, leaving only a slit through which green eyes glinted with cunning and cruelty. Its black mane, wreathed in air currents, was fluffy and wild like the Grim Reaper’s cloak. Its claws, soaked in black mud, seemed to grasp a piece of shadow. Its legs were coiled, the muscles like loaded springs, ready to unleash immense power upon landing to pounce on its prey and shatter its skull with its claws.

However, it was now in mid-air with nothing to push off from, and a longsword wreathed in blue light was thrusting toward its chest.

Azure Blade!

The instant Victor activated Apocalypse, Windfang knew it had fallen into its opponent’s trap, transforming from hunter to hunted. Its wild intuition told it that if it was struck by the sword glowing with blue light, it would be defeated and killed, with no possibility of survival.

Spurred by the terror of death, Windfang mobilized all its potential. The wind elements inside and outside its body circulated rapidly, changing its descent into a horizontal shift. It dodged the chest-piercing sword by a hair’s breadth, its muscles bulging and eyes turning crimson. It viciously kicked its claws against a tree trunk, intending to use the power of Bloodlust to counterattack.

Windfang’s reaction was incredibly fast, its adaptation flawless, fully demonstrating the formidable power of a Gold-rank Gnoll.

A sharp wind blade appeared out of thin air and struck Windfang, clashing with its Wind Walk. The resulting turbulence instantly hindered the Gnoll’s movements. As Victor and Windfang’s figures crossed and they switched places, the Adamantine sword in his left hand, wreathed in a gale, slashed across the Gnoll’s ribs.

Azure Moon! Gale Sword!

Crack… A deep indentation appeared in the thick tree trunk where Windfang had kicked off. Using that force, Windfang shot toward the clearing and vanished into the coniferous forest in the space of three blinks. In an instant, the Gnoll’s slender figure disappeared into the vast woods, leaving only a shocking, straight trail of blood on the snow-covered clearing.

Victor stood his ground, not giving chase. He was rather surprised that a heavily wounded Gnoll could move with such speed. But no matter how fast Windfang fled for its life, he had multiple ways to kill it.

The first opportunity: the trump card he used to wound Windfang was the Gale Sword, not the Azure Blade. If his left-hand sword had also been the Azure Blade, the void wind element would have penetrated Windfang’s body, shredded its internal organs, and left it critically injured and near death.

The second opportunity: as Windfang fled, the Azure Blade in his right hand had accumulated enough power to strike its back through the air, dealing even greater damage.

The third opportunity: Windfang’s ribs had been sliced open by the Gale Sword. Victor was absolutely confident he could have caught up to it and killed it before it escaped into the coniferous forest.

Victor had intentionally let Windfang go.

The fight itself had been very brief, but the dangers within were breathtaking, a clash of wisdom, will, psychology, strength, speed, skill, and talent.

Life is full of contradictions, both tenacious and fragile. In a real battle, there’s no simply throwing one skill here and using one talent there. It’s about blending all of one’s abilities together for an instantaneous burst, where life and death, victory and defeat, hang by a single thread. Yet this decisive process elevates life to an intense peak, squeezing out every last drop of one’s potential.

From the moment Victor decided to hunt Windfang alone, both his Bloodline and X-3 had changed. His dormant human bloodline was activated, and X-3 no longer automatically corrected his emotional fluctuations. When Victor clashed with Windfang, he truly felt the great terror of death, yet his will remained detached from his emotions, as if the Mind’s Dominator had awakened an ability deep within his bloodline to face the challenge of his own destruction and the need to hunt a powerful enemy.

It was a very wondrous feeling.

Victor’s Mind Bloodline secret art used the state of Silent Void between life and death to simulate the destruction of his body’s world, awakening the Mind’s Dominator and activating dormant Bloodline talents. But it lacked a clear direction.

Bloodlines correspond to Laws. The bloodlines of both humans and elves contain multiple Laws. Without direction, which Laws should be activated? Were these Laws conflicting or compatible? How should they be coordinated?

Elves were a long-lived race, humans a short-lived one. If Victor wasn’t careful, he could activate a bloodline talent that made him sleep for twenty hours a day or only able to eat grass. That would be no laughing matter.

This time, with the ultimate goal of hunting Windfang, X-3 established a mission: to coordinate, activate, and utilize his various bloodline talents. The bloodline Laws of human and elf did not clash, but instead began to merge.

Simply put, it was making him smarter, his body tougher, his stamina more abundant, his Perception keener, and his intuition more accurate.

Victor even had a faint feeling that he might be able to maintain his Life Concealment state while moving. However, a single clash was clearly not enough. He still needed to be tempered by many more trials before he could possibly reach a completely new level.

Windfang was his whetstone.

Victor walked over to the corpse of a wolf, used his longsword to carve off a chunk of bloody leg meat, and, suppressing his nausea, placed it in his mouth to chew, slowly savoring its sweetness.

This too was part of the tempering required to hunt Windfang. The hunt had only just begun.

Chapter 525: Legendary

Twenty-five days later, in Cogston City’s Boulderhold.

Rex sat high on his throne, his expression deep and solemn, his gaze unfocused. The index finger of his left hand, adorned with a top-tier element crystal ring, tapped gently on the purple-gold armrest. Those who knew him well understood that His Majesty the King was deep in thought.

In Grand Vizier Marquess Wolert’s impression, King Rex was brave and martial, disdainful of ceremony, but also possessed immense strategic acumen. It was just that his strength was reserved; he was skilled at listening to his subordinates’ opinions, often letting his vassals fully voice their suggestions, guiding them subtly before making a final decision. He was not only a powerful Gold Knight and a king beloved by the subjects of Naville, but also an outstanding statesman.

Only when under immense pressure would Rex reveal such a thoughtful expression in front of his vassals.

Marquess Wolert was not surprised, for the root of the problem was His Highness Victor W. Randell.

The emergence of a new Highness in the human kingdoms was always a major event, one that could change a kingdom’s political landscape. Conventionally, the Church was responsible for informing the various kingdoms of a newly advanced Highness. But for a great lord, a Highness from another country had limited influence on their own. Sending a congratulatory gift was sufficient to fulfill diplomatic courtesy. Only a Spirit Knight could command the full attention of the major powers.

Sun Elves were just as eye-catching.

The vice-commander of the Templars had informed the major dioceses of the news that Viscount Randell was on the verge of transforming into a Sun Elf. In just ten days, Boulderhold had received letters of inquiry from every imperial and royal family. Boulderhold’s dilemma was that Viscount Randell had advanced to the rank of Highness in Naville, but he himself was not a Naville noble. How to reply to the royal families’ inquiries and how much information to disclose was a matter that required His Highness Randell’s opinion, but Boulderhold currently had no way to communicate with him and could only be vague in their replies.

Dealing with the inquiries and probing of the various royal houses was not even the most pressing issue. Boulderhold currently could not guarantee His Highness Randell’s personal safety. If he were to unfortunately perish in his battle with Windfang, Naville would immediately be thrust into the eye of a storm of public opinion. As the hosts who had invited His Highness Randell to visit the Kingdom of Naville, how could the Rex family explain this to the Gambis Royal Family and Sylvia? Even His Eminence Clement would likely be implicated. If Clement were to be censured by his political enemies and pulled down from the papal throne as a result, it would cause irreparable damage to Naville’s Central Kingdom strategy.

Rex slapped the purple-gold armrest of his throne, his amber eyes sweeping over the crowd in the great hall. He spoke, “The Queen of Roses has, through the Church, sent a formal notice to all Highnesses, forbidding anyone from interfering with His Highness Randell’s hunt. Otherwise, they shouldn’t blame her for breaking the rules! Heh, a Spirit Knight’s status is equivalent to the first Pope’s. If they are determined to ignore the Radiant Code, the Church can only try to play deaf and dumb at first.”

“His Highness Randell might meet with misfortune while hunting Windfang… I’m not sure if this is Sylvia’s true intention. I wrote her a private letter, but she gave no response.”

Rex stroked the beard on his chin and bared his teeth. “The Regent of Gambis, however, did send us a formal request. Aerie Fortress hopes we will do our utmost to ensure His Highness Randell’s safety and confirm his whereabouts. If after two months, His Highness Randell still hasn’t completed his hunt, Aerie Fortress requests that Boulderhold intervene and recall him to Gambis.”

“Sylvia’s and Aerie Fortress’s opinions are completely at odds. What do you think the people of Gambis are really trying to do?”

The court scholars whispered amongst themselves, their discussions abuzz. A moment later, Grand Vizier Wolert stepped forward and said, “The Queen of Roses clearly does not care about His Highness Randell’s personal safety; she is more concerned with whether her partner can advance to the Sun Elf bloodline. The Auguste family, as His Highness Randell’s liege lord, has an obligation to protect their vassal. From any perspective, Aerie Fortress’s notice is irreproachable.”

“We can understand Sylvia’s urgency, and we can also understand Aerie Fortress’s position as his suzerain… Pompous requests can be handled with pompous reasons, but a Spirit Knight’s warning is definitely no joke… In truth, we can interfere with His Highness Randell’s hunt, but we cannot guarantee his personal safety. He and Windfang are too fast, and their battles too fierce, with multiple close-quarters engagements. The Sword Mantis Knights can hardly keep up with them, nor can they provide timely rescue to His Highness Randell.”

A glint flashed in Rex’s eyes as he asked, “Are you saying we should comply with Sylvia’s request and adopt a stand-by-and-do-nothing attitude?”

Marquess Wolert bowed and said, “Yes.”

Rex nodded, then turned to the Queen beside him and asked, “My dear, what are your thoughts?”

Shatia raised a round fan to cover her lovely red lips, her purple eyes shifting slightly. With a soft laugh, she said, “The Eleanor family is passionate about researching knight’s bloodlines, and the Moon Elf bloodline is a particular focus of the Sooth royal family. As everyone knows, the Wind Whisper Moon Elf is the source of the Gale Knights. The wind-element Gold Bloodline is powerful, but fickle, and is the most difficult knight’s bloodline to maintain. That is why the Ironmountain Empress chose to leave behind the bloodline of a Spirit Knight for the Baselius family, rather than the wind-element bloodline of Sword Saint Draven. The imperial family of the Iron Mountain Empire has endured for over three thousand years, and the Baselius family remains a Gold Bloodline to this day. Although the Iron Mountain Empire’s four great families of the empress’s kin were derived from Sword Saint Draven’s wind-element Gold Bloodline, they have all since declined, and two of those families have even died out.”

“The Kingdom of Gambis is currently establishing a political structure based on the queen’s family… To be honest, I don’t believe the York family’s bloodline is fit to be Gambis’s queen’s family… Sylvia is preparing to emulate Empress Verodica and leave behind a Spirit Knight’s Gold Bloodline for the York family. But what if Victor fails?”

“Let’s set aside the possibility of His Highness Randell unfortunately perishing in his fight with the Gnoll for now. The Moon Elf bloodline, unlike a knight’s bloodline, suffers from an instability that leads to regression. His Highness Randell currently displays the characteristic of golden eyes, but there is still some time before he reaches the stable state of golden hair and eyes. That is to say, even if he slays Windfang, it’s still possible for him to regress to a Wind Whisper Moon Elf.”

“Although a Wind Whisper Archer is a Gold Bloodline, he cannot impregnate Sylvia, but there is a low probability that he can have offspring with a Silver-rank Raging Wave female knight. Victor’s lover, Trisley, is a Raging Wave Knight. His other lover, Phoenix, even has the potential to challenge the Elemental Sea. The Auguste family has even more options… Princess Royal Roland and Marchioness Sophia Wimbledon can certainly bear a Wind Whisper Archer’s children.”

“His Highness Randell might leave two bloodlines in Gambis: one in Aerie Fortress, and one in Goldwater City. According to the principles of heraldry and marriage alliances, after three generations, these two wind-element Gold Bloodlines can intermarry, ensuring the purity and stability of the bloodline. With a Gold Bloodline, Gambis would have what it takes to evolve into a thousand-year empire.”

“Even if the high-ranking female knights of the York family fail to bear children with Victor, Goldwater City can obtain the Gold Bloodline from Aerie Fortress through the exchange of children between the royal family and the queen’s family. But in either case, for three generations, the York family and Aerie Fortress will need to use Silver-blooded female apprentice knights to maintain the purity of the wind-element Gold Bloodline. The noblewomen of the Auguste family’s core faction will have to make enormous sacrifices… For this reason alone, Rose Manor would have to bow its head to Aerie Fortress.”

“The conflicting opinions of Rose Manor and Aerie Fortress precisely reflect Sylvia’s own conflicted feelings.” The purple-eyed queen lowered her fan, her red lips parting as she spoke with confidence, “I am certain that Sylvia absolutely does not want any harm to befall her paramour! If Victor were to fall in Naville, Boulderhold and His Eminence Clement would find themselves in a very difficult position. As for whether Victor can advance to a Sun Elf, it has no real impact on us. In fact, Gambis having one less powerful Sun Elf is also in Naville’s interest.”

“Aerie Fortress has given His Highness Randell a deadline of one and a half months. The longer he drags out his hunt for Windfang, the greater the risk he bears. I suggest we respect Aerie Fortress’s request and have the Sword Mantis Knights join His Highness Randell’s hunting party!”

The Queen’s counsel contradicted that of the court scholars. Rex shook his head and chuckled, “All of you… why are you overlooking the most important person? Can’t you see that Sylvia’s public declaration is actually Cousin Victor’s will?”

Shatia’s willow-like brows furrowed slightly. She said hesitantly, “Windfang is no ordinary monster. It has the power to kill your Cousin Victor.”

Rex exchanged a look with Marquess Faroul, who was seated below him. The commander of the Sword Mantis Knights understood immediately, stood up, and waved his hand, saying, “The Grand Vizier will remain. Everyone else, withdraw.”

The scholars of Boulderhold all rose and left the council chamber along with the guards. Rex picked up a golden bell from the table and shook it. A moment later, a mysterious figure in a long brown robe entered the chamber alone through a hidden door and bowed to the King and Queen.

The mysterious person wore a silver mask. With no belt tied, his entire body was completely concealed by the loose robe, revealing no hint of his gender. His attire might have prevented Marquess Wolert from discerning his identity, but it could not deceive the eyes of a High-ranked Knight.

Queen Shatia asked in surprise, “Black Fox? Why are you back in Boulderhold? How are the Sword Mantis Knights tracking His Highness Randell and Windfang now?”

The mysterious person, codenamed Black Fox, was a Wizard maintained by the Rex family. His wizardry allowed him to retrace past events, and it was thanks to Black Fox that the Sword Mantis Knights had managed to stay hot on Windfang’s tail.

Rex explained vaguely, “Black Fox was injured in the Dekeizer Earldom. I ordered the Sword Mantis Knights to bring him back to recuperate.”

Marquess Faroul faced the Queen and said, “Your Majesty, after Black Fox left the Dekeizer Earldom, the Sword Mantis Knights lost track of His Highness Randell and Windfang three days ago. I came back this time to ask Black Fox to first check on their location and condition. Then, I’ll take him back to the mountains to continue tracking Windfang.”

Rex waved his hand, cutting Faroul off. “Alright, let’s see the latest situation between Cousin Victor and Windfang.”

Faroul took a small leather pouch from his belt and handed it to the Wizard, but the latter recoiled a half-step as if avoiding a viper, as if the pouch contained a deadly danger.

“Don’t worry. Inside is a lock of Windfang’s mane that the Sword Mantis Knights found in a valley on the eastern side of the Dekeizer Earldom. It has been carefully cleaned to ensure there are no items or blood belonging to His Highness Randell… In fact, based on our survey of the scene, we are certain His Highness Randell was not injured in this most recent battle.”

Only then did Black Fox take the leather pouch, holding it in the palm of his left hand. He then extended his right palm. Blue and green runes emerged from the void, rotating and alternating to form a profound circular pattern. Water vapor in the air continuously gathered, gradually forming a water screen.

Naville’s King, Queen, Grand Vizier, and Minister of Military Affairs stared intently at the water screen. As the circle of runes spun, a clear image appeared on the screen.

It was a valley at night. The silver moon was dim, a river gurgled, and a slender, upright figure appeared at the mouth of the valley. He walked closer and closer. It was Viscount Randell. He held two Adamantine longswords, his steps light and nimble. His every move was filled with a compact, powerful continuity, yet it gave off a sense of relaxed leisure. There were three tears in his Double-headed Dragon-Lizard leather armor, located at his chest, ribs, and abdomen. Through the rips in the armor, several faint scars could be seen. Then, he stopped. A teasing smile appeared on his incomparably handsome face, and a ring of dark gold light swirled and surged around his jet-black eyes.

Marquess Wolert crossed his arms uneasily. Even through the water screen, he had the illusion that Viscount Randell had seen through all his secrets, and he felt a bone-deep chill, as if all the blood in his body had frozen.

The image on the water screen suddenly zoomed in. Viscount Randell raised a slender eyebrow, and a幽藍 (you lan - deep blue) light flowed over his body before he vanished without a trace, replaced by a rapidly receding landscape.

The scene changed so quickly that the water screen became a blur. Marquess Wolert grew dizzy, agitated, and nauseous, feeling an overwhelming urge to vomit.

“Stop, Black Fox.”

The circle of blue-green runes slowly stopped and dissipated. The water screen abruptly turned into a cloud of white mist that spread through the room. Black Fox lowered his suspended right arm, bowed slightly, and retreated to a corner of the council chamber.

“Old dog, feeling better?” King Rex asked with concern.

Marquess Wolert caught his breath for a moment and nodded with a wry smile. Rex turned his gaze to Black Fox and asked, “How far back can Windfang’s mane let you retrace?”

Black Fox held up four fingers, then flipped his hand over, indicating he could retrace four days forward and back.

Rex smiled. “It seems you’ve recovered well. Go and prepare. When I’m done here, we’ll go track Windfang together.”

Black Fox nodded and walked silently through a side door of the chamber. After the sound of his footsteps faded, Marquess Faroul spoke up. “Let me explain. The scene just now was from Windfang’s perspective and perception.”

“The valley was very dark at the time. The image was clear because of Windfang’s night vision. That beast is a master of stealth. Unless it deliberately exposes its tracks, it’s almost impossible to track it at night using normal means. And yet, Viscount Randell found its hiding place directly. What does that tell you?”

Marquess Wolert said pensively, “I’ve heard that Wind Whisper Archers can survey scenes from several kilometers away…”

“It’s not that simple.”

Queen Shatia, her expression grave, slowly shook her head. “His Highness Randell used Wind Whisper to search for the Gnoll, so how did he know Windfang was hiding in that specific valley? If he had to search inch by inch with Wind Whisper, his vigor would never be enough. I saw that His Highness Randell was full of spirit, his entire body overflowing with immense power, enough to make even a Gold-rank Gnoll tremble. Moreover, Windfang possesses a danger sense. From the way it fled, it didn’t seem like it was intentionally leaving tracks to ambush Viscount Randell, but was simply hiding… Why was His Highness Randell able to so accurately find a deliberately hidden Gold-rank Gnoll?”

Rex sighed and said, “I thought of Tournans’s and Caligula’s psychic intuition.”

Grand Vizier Wolert muttered, “How could it be psychic intuition? Even Sword Saint Draven didn’t have that ability…”

“We know too little about Sun Elves. Just because His Majesty Draven didn’t have it doesn’t mean Cousin Victor doesn’t.”

Rex paused, then continued, “They are from different eras, in different environments, with different upbringings. It’s reasonable that they would awaken different Sun Elf talents. Just now, I saw Victor use the void wind element to evade Windfang’s attack. That’s an ability even Draven didn’t possess.”

“We can discuss the differences in talent between Victor and Draven later.”

Marquess Faroul interjected, “His evasion speed was so fast that Windfang couldn’t even track it with its eyes. When Windfang fled, it chose to face His Highness Randell directly. Why didn’t it turn and run? There’s only one possibility: its wild intuition told it that turning its back on His Highness Randell meant death! This is the intuitive impression Victor’s will left on Windfang—he forced Windfang to fight him! In reality, His Highness Randell let Windfang escape again, only taking a lock of its mane…”

At this point, Marquess Faroul paused for a few seconds before saying gravely, “Windfang no longer poses a threat to His Highness Randell. Victor can find it and kill it at any time! He is now a legendary Highness.”

A legendary archer who could fight a Gold-rank Gnoll in close combat, and possessed both psychic intuition and the Wind Whisper talent?!

Silence fell over the council chamber. Grand Vizier Wolert bowed his head, lost in thought for a long while before speaking in a hoarse voice, “Why didn’t His Highness Randell finish Windfang off?”

King Rex glanced at the old Marquess and said lightly, “Are you scared? I was scared too… I can tell you, Windfang ambushed Victor at least three times, but every single time was a frontal assault, and every single time it failed. If it could have attacked Victor from behind, even just once, Victor would already be dead. But Windfang couldn’t do it. Victor never gave it a single chance. From start to finish, Victor controlled the pace of the battle. He grew stronger and stronger in combat, to the point where he still had power to spare even when facing a bloodlusted Windfang.”

“You guessed correctly. Victor is using Windfang to improve his own strength. His newly awakened bloodline talents have not yet stabilized. If someone were to interfere in his hunt, it might cause his bloodline talents to regress. But I can guarantee that whoever that person is, they will take Windfang’s place and become the target of Victor’s hunt. So, don’t get any funny ideas… Tell me, now that Cousin Victor has successfully stepped into the ranks of legendary powerhouses, what kind of impact will that have on Naville?”

Wolert thought for a moment, then said with a cheerful smile, “Only benefits, no harm!”

“Only benefits, no harm… I think so too.” Rex nodded and smiled. “The Northern Empire backed by the Radiant Knights and the Southern Empire backed by the Curia keep each other in check, while our geographical advantage has determined Naville’s path as the Central Kingdom… Alright, prepare the king’s carriage and a bounty of two hundred thousand Gold Sol. I want to be the first to congratulate my Cousin Victor.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty.” The Grand Vizier and Marquess Faroul rose at the same time, bowed, and took their leave.

After the two lords had left the council chamber, Rex turned to the Queen and said, “My dear, the Queen Mother of Gambis has already left for the Dekeizer Earldom. Right now, she can’t stand the sight of any high-ranking female knight. While I’m away from Boulderhold, you must keep an eye on the high-ranking female knights in Cogston. Don’t let them run off to the Dekeizer Earldom to ask for trouble.”

Shatia raised her willow-like brows and said petulantly, “Your Majesty, aren’t you going to explain things to your Queen?”

Rex scratched his head and asked in confusion, “Explain what?”

“Black Fox is a Wizard, protected by High-ranked Knights and Mystic Warriors. He doesn’t even have to participate in combat, so how did he get injured? And have to run all the way back to Boulderhold to be treated by the ‘Physician’?”

“Oh… that matter.”

Rex patted the Queen’s slender hand and clicked his tongue. “Black Fox obtained a fragment of armor Victor left behind and tried to retrace his battle perspective. He collapsed on the spot… According to the ‘Physician’, when Black Fox tried to scry on His Highness Randell, he suffered a wizardry backlash, and his soul was damaged. Luckily, Faroul sent someone to rush him back to Boulderhold. Otherwise, he probably would have been crippled.”

Shatia’s beautiful face lost all color as she said in horror, “How could this be? Could it be…”

Rex shook his head and said, “How could a noble with the Moon Elf bloodline be a Wizard… I estimate this is because Victor is being closely watched by a Spirit Knight. Any scrying involving a Spirit Knight, even the Great Divination cast by the first Pope, would trigger unpredictable consequences. Black Fox’s wizardry is far too inferior compared to the Great Divination of a Pope or Pontiff. For him to use wizardry on Victor and be caught in Sylvia’s wake, it’s not surprising he suffered a backlash.”

Shatia composed herself and nodded. “I always thought the idea that Spirit Knights transcend all divine arts and wizardry was just a legend… I never thought Sylvia truly possessed such peerless power.”

Rex was silent for a moment before shaking his head. “Sylvia and Spirit Knights can’t simply be lumped together, but if she were to unseal all her power, she would be able to perceive it even if someone merely spoke her name… This is my understanding of the origin of the world. However, Black Fox’s experience convinces me that if Neo Wester dares to harm Victor, Sylvia will know immediately… That certainly saves us a lot of trouble.”

“Neo Wester has snuck into the Dekeizer Earldom?”

“Mm.” Rex nodded, his expression glum.

Shatia gave a beautiful smile, grasping her husband’s hand to comfort him. “Don’t worry, my dear. Emperor Lant has no intention of harming His Highness Randell… nor does he have the ability.”

“I now even doubt if he has the courage to appear before His Highness Randell alone.”

Chapter 526: Nemesis

The Dekeizer Earldom, on the fringe of the eastern mountains.

The Gnoll, Windfang, dragged a massive stag out of the woods and climbed straight onto a limestone rock jutting out from the cliff. The view here was open and unobstructed. Opposite was a dense thicket of short trees, overgrown with thorns, dark and lightless. The two sides were separated by more than thirty meters. A mountain torrent raged and roared in the river valley below, its turbid waters crashing violently against the steep cliffs, creating a deafening boom.

This place seemed like a dead end, but Windfang paid no mind to the surrounding terrain. He sat on the rock, tore off a leg from the stag, and stuffed it into his mouth, tearing and chewing. His powerful jaws easily crushed the stag’s leg bones, tendons, and hide. Crimson droplets of blood dripped from his fangs onto his glossy black mane. The Gnoll’s body was covered in a crisscrossing network of scars. The wounds had healed, but the fur would not grow back. The bare scars revealed taut, solid muscle lines, making him look sturdy and formidable.

These wounds were all masterpieces left by a dual-wielding enemy. Ever since Windfang had raided the human camp and first clashed with that enemy in the dark forest, he had been marked. After more than forty sunrises and sunsets, Windfang had come to a profound realization: he had been reduced to mere prey, with no ability to fight back. His opponent was like a young saber-toothed beast that had just struck out on its own, honing its skills by toying with weaker prey. No matter what tricks the prey tried, it was impossible to shake off a saber-toothed beast that was rapidly growing stronger. Danger constantly clouded Windfang’s mind. Although mountains and forests separated them, his keen intuition told him that his opponent had a pair of invisible eyes observing his every move.

Under the gaze of those invisible eyes, hiding, sneaking, and ambushing had all become meaningless, yet a frontal assault was hopeless. But Windfang had not despaired because of this; he was still filled with fighting spirit.

Today, he was going to give his opponent a big surprise right here!

After devouring both of the stag’s hind legs, hide, bone, and all, Windfang lay down on the rock and fell into a deep sleep. He had no way of ambushing his opponent now, nor did he need to worry about being ambushed himself.

An unknown amount of time passed before a sharp, cold killing intent stabbed Windfang awake from his deep slumber. He opened his eyes to see that fearsome hunter appear at the edge of the forest, blocking his only escape route.

The two were separated by more than three hundred meters. Verdant green eyes met dark eyes ringed with dim gold from afar, and both had the same thought:

What an ugly monster!

Victor and Windfang had chased each other for over a month and fought no fewer than twenty times. Both found the other incredibly ugly, but they also acknowledged that their opponent was powerful enough to be a formidable enemy that required a cautious approach.

“It seems you’re done with hide-and-seek… In that case, let me send you to Hell! You disgusting monster!”

Victor dropped his Eagle Wing Bow and quiver, drew his two Adamantine longswords, and pointed their tips toward the ground as he calmly strode toward Windfang.

The Gnoll couldn’t understand human language, but he could feel Victor’s malice and mockery. He curled his lip, revealing sharp teeth intermingled with flesh and blood. A strange laugh rumbled in his throat. He turned his body, presented his rear to Victor, and gave his hips a little wiggle. Then he tore open the stag’s belly, pulled out a handful of bloody intestines, and took a few savage bites, as if to say:

I’ll rip out your guts and eat them!

Victor flew into a rage. The light breeze around him turned into a stream of blackish-green air, his twin swords glowed with a deep blue light, and he shot toward the Gnoll like an arrow loosed from its string.

“I’m going to cut you into pieces and stuff you into a cow’s ass, piece by piece!”

Victor was outwardly furious, but his heart was as cold as ice. He appeared to be going all out, but he held some strength in reserve, his feet never leaving the ground at the same time, ready to change direction at a moment’s notice.

Windfang’s cunning was a part of his strength. Victor could only gain the upper hand by never making a mistake!

A hunter who never made a mistake was enough to make most enemies despair, but Victor knew that Windfang was not one of them.

This Gold rank Gnoll never gave up any opportunity. It was precisely because of his tenacity that Victor had kept him alive until now, as a stepping stone to improve his own abilities.

The distance of over three hundred meters was covered in an instant. The fur on Windfang’s backside was already clearly visible. The Azure Blade, with its armor-piercing sharpness, was aimed at his vitals. In the next second, he would make the Gnoll understand what painful despair truly was.

Windfang’s muscles bulged in an instant, and his glossy black mane stood on end. A powerful current of air swirled around his body, like a suit of air armor.

Bloodlust! Wind Walk!

A berserk counterattack was imminent, yet Windfang did not turn to fight.

He’s prepared to take a fatal blow from the Azure Blade, then use the full power of his Bloodlust talent to trade life for injury, to use his life’s tenacity to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat… Victor’s mind raced. He decisively entered the Apocalypse state, minutely adjusting his movements, changing his thrust to a slice. The Azure Blade cut toward Windfang’s legs.

At that moment, Windfang moved. His legs kicked powerfully against the gray rock. The explosive speed from his Bloodlust and Wind Walk was as fast as lightning. He dodged the Azure Blade’s Horizontal Slash, rushed to the edge of the cliff, and leaped high into the air, flying across the turbulent river valley!

Not a counterattack?! It was an escape… Victor’s eyes sharpened. The Azure Blade left his swords, transforming into two streams of indigo light that shot straight for the mid-air Windfang.

It was as if the Gnoll had eyes in the back of his head. The instant Victor unleashed his full power, he manipulated the air currents, changing direction twice in a row to evade the sharp streams of the Azure Blade. Like a bird, he landed on the opposite cliff and, without looking back, plunged into the dense, dark thicket.

Victor stood on the protruding rock, twin swords in hand, and watched helplessly as Windfang’s figure carved through the thorny bushes and quickly disappeared into the depths of the thicket. Below his feet was the roaring, rushing mountain torrent. The opposite cliff had a drop of six meters and was thirty-eight meters away. He couldn’t jump that far even if he used every ounce of his strength. If he were to circle around downstream, Windfang would already be over one hundred kilometers away, making it nearly impossible to ever catch him again.

Glancing back at the Silver Wing Bow he had dropped on the ground, Victor’s expression immediately soured.

I… I was played by a Gnoll.

In his battles with Windfang, Victor had squeezed his own potential, achieving enormous growth in his personal strength. His base strength had doubled, and a change in base strength represented a comprehensive improvement in his Physique, Spirit, Perception, and Life attributes. His Surge could now increase his strength by fourteen times, far exceeding the initial six-fold amplification. This was equivalent to the combined strength of nine Elite Soldiers, allowing him to lift objects weighing around two tons, approaching the level of a senior knight.

Of course, Victor’s current strength and speed were still no match for Windfang in his Bloodlust state. However, the improvements in his four major Elemental Attributes supported a brand-new Bloodline talent.

Victor and Windfang had been entangled for forty-eight days and nights. Both sides had employed various stratagems, staging spectacular displays of ambushes, sneak attacks, feints and counter-kills, forceful breakthroughs, and evasive maneuvers. But Victor had never once shown his back to the Gnoll, and Windfang was always able to dodge at the very instant he loosed an arrow, rendering his Eagle Wing Bow useless.

Frontal combat was extremely perilous. On one occasion, Windfang’s claws had torn through Victor’s Dragon-Lizard leather armor, the wound penetrating straight to his sternum, nearly killing him on the spot. At that critical moment between life and death, he had awakened his human bloodline’s Combat Intuition. The X-3 had melded it with his Moon Elf bloodline’s extraordinary perception, extraordinary agility, and Wind Walk talent into a brand-new skill. In an instant, void wind elements replaced the air currents surrounding his body, sensing the changes in the air stirred by his opponent and allowing him to perform an extreme evasion.

Even with his Bloodlust and Wind Walk activated, Windfang had failed to kill Victor and had taken a hit from the Azure Blade instead. Both were heavily injured. They chased each other for a while, but neither could get the better of the other, so they each went into Concealment to heal.

During Life Concealment, Victor had awakened his human bloodline’s Life Tenacity, which, combined with the Moon Elf bloodline’s Surge talent, evolved into a healing skill. Within half a day, Victor’s injuries were fully healed. He then hunted Windfang down until the Gnoll was fleeing in terror, cementing his victory from that point on.

While Victor had been training, Windfang’s strength had also changed, but he had kept it hidden until today, when he set a trap for Victor, unleashing his full power to change direction twice in mid-air and leap across an impassable natural barrier over thirty meters wide to escape with his life.

First, he chose a dead-end location, conserved his energy, and adopted a stance of making a final, decisive stand against Victor. Victor, wanting to use the Gnoll to further hone his extreme evasion, had discarded his Eagle Wing Bow and opted for a direct confrontation. If Victor had hidden in the shadows, using Life Concealment to evade the Gnoll’s danger sense, and unleashed a Charged Shot from his Eagle Wing Bow, Windfang would have had no chance of survival. But he knew his opponent could pinpoint his location and was playing a game of cat and mouse, practicing extreme evasion multiple times in their battles. So Windfang created the atmosphere of a final battle, luring Victor into putting down his bow and fighting all out.

Only when his opponent discarded the bow could Windfang leap without reservation.

Second, Windfang deliberately used Gnoll-like behavior to humiliate Victor, creating the illusion of a mutual-destruction gambit. Victor instantly adjusted his movements, and Windfang seized the gap created by this change, catching his opponent off guard to execute his pre-planned escape.

Finally, Victor had been using wind elements to monitor the Gnoll’s movements and had never seen him jump so far in a single bound. In other words, Windfang had never practiced it beforehand. He himself didn’t know if he could clear the canyon, so how could Victor have possibly guessed his true intentions?

It was precisely because of his forbearance and his all-or-nothing gamble that Windfang had deceived his opponent, achieving a breathtaking leap that pushed his limits and allowed him to escape death.

Just as Tournans had said, a rabbit can never harm a tiger, but to escape from the tiger’s jaws is its own kind of strength.

Life takes many forms, and the levels of life are not all the same. When facing an unbeatable opponent, survival itself is an undeniable victory.

Although Victor loathed the man-eating monster, the power, skill, talent, cunning, and fortitude that Windfang displayed, along with his intense will to live, had left a deep impression on him and spurred his own growth. Victor acknowledged that Windfang was an opponent worthy of Respect.

The Gnoll had escaped Victor’s line of sight, but not his Perception. The omnipresent wind elements were transmitting its every move into Victor’s mind. Windfang was crashing through the thicket in a straight line, his body propelled by the power of Bloodlust, his speed held back by nothing. Each leap covered a distance of twelve meters, smashing through any obstacle. He was about to leave Victor’s Perception range.

“You’ve given it your all. Now it’s my turn.”

Victor embedded his longswords into the rock. The ring of dim gold on the outer edge of his irises rapidly expanded, dyeing his deep, dark pupils a brilliant golden-yellow. His Soul Fire burned violently as a surge of spiritual power, like a volcanic eruption, connected with the wind elements around Windfang. Driven by this spiritual power, the air formed a blackish-green current, which then transformed into a stream of indigo light that shot toward the back of the Gnoll’s head, trailing fine sparks of electricity.

Three kilometers away, Windfang suddenly sensed immense danger and smelled the stench of death. Without time to think, he let out a savage howl, spurred his heart, and unleashed all his potential, increasing his fleeing speed by a full thirty percent. But no matter how fast he was, he could not outrun the tangible yet formless void wind element. The stream of blue light curved around the back of his head and shot into his weak eye socket. The sharp void wind element exploded inside his skull, shredding his brain, then churned into a turbulent airflow that whipped the shattered brain matter into a pulpy mess.

Windfang’s eyes burst, and blood mixed with brain matter spewed from his mouth, nose, eye sockets, and ears. His tenacious life force carried him forward another three hundred meters before he finally staggered and collapsed in the bushes, twitching nonstop.

As the Gnoll’s life ended, Victor’s wind elemental perception went dark. The brilliant luster faded from his golden eyes, returning them to dark pupils with a ring of dim gold.

The Moon Elf’s Wind Whisper talent was a strategic skill capable of observing scenes beyond the line of sight, but it possessed no killing power on its own. The Sword Saint Draven had communed with the Elemental Sea of fire and, combined with the Wind Whisper talent, created the Flowing Fire Arrow combat technique, which had a ‘can’t miss’ property.

When Victor integrated his human and Moon Elf bloodlines, the Moon Elf’s top-tier talent—Wind Whisper—also disappeared. In its place was a brand-new talent.

Windfang had the ability to change direction in mid-air, making his tracks difficult to predict. In the process of tracking Windfang, Victor had fully utilized the X-3’s identification capabilities and gradually awakened his human bloodline’s psychic intuition. But it was not the danger sense of a Ferocious warrior; it was a special kind of tracking intuition. When Victor saw the tracks left by Windfang, he could intuitively determine the direction to search. His intuitive judgments became more and more accurate, always allowing him to find the next track in the shortest amount of time.

His Tracking Intuition talent continuously improved until it reached an extraordinary level. It then combined with the X-3’s Apocalypse, and the Moon Elf bloodline’s Wind Whisper, Wind Walk, and Blind Sense, mutating into a new talent with an over-the-horizon strike capability.

Victor named it: Nemesis.

To activate the Nemesis talent, he first had to identify the target’s features. The more information he identified, the larger the tracking range and the clearer the image became; he could even use wind elements to perceive its weaknesses. After identification came the lock-on. The wind elements would transmit information about the target within a five-kilometer radius to Victor. After the X-3 identified and cross-referenced it, Victor would use his spiritual power to direct the wind elements to lock onto the target’s position—a circular area of about 2.6 square meters, which happened to match the size of his Blind Sense area. The final step was to call upon the void wind element and kill the target from beyond visual range.

Simply put, Nemesis required him to first see the target, then lock on, and finally hunt and kill it. Once the target was dead, he could no longer observe it.

Victor sheathed his twin swords, turned back to retrieve his Eagle Wing Bow, and prepared to head to the thicket on the other side to claim the Gold rank Gnoll’s head. He no longer had the Elves’ bad habit of favoring beauty and loathing ugliness. Besides, Windfang’s head was worth two hundred thousand Gold Sols. Even if it were ten times more disgusting, Victor would have gotten his hands on it.

Forty minutes later, Victor circled around to the thicket on the opposite bank and, guided by memory, walked toward the location of Windfang’s corpse.

Good thing Windfang’s skull was tough enough. If it were an ordinary creature, its head probably would have exploded… Victor mused inwardly as he pushed aside a thick patch of thorns. His pupils contracted in an instant.

Windfang… was gone?!

Chapter 527: Neo Wester

”

The ground was spattered with the Gnoll’s blood and brains, but its body was nowhere to be found. Victor walked over and carefully examined the clues left at the scene, discovering a line of footprints left by leather combat boots. Unlike the heavy tracks of men’s boots, these were slender in shape, with a break between the sole and the heel—clearly the latest style of half-heeled women’s combat boots. Following the tracks, he saw a copper-red sigil embedded in the trunk of a low tree, engraved with the pattern of a spread-winged eagle.

”

Neo Wester?

”

The Randt Empire was also known as the Eagle Empire, and the eagle was the family sigil of House Neo Wester. Victor removed the copper-red sigil, weighing it in his palm. His gaze followed the footprints toward the west side of the copse, a scene forming in his mind:

”

About twenty minutes ago, a female knight arrived at the site where Windfang had fallen. She picked up the Gnoll’s corpse, wrapped its head in cloth to prevent blood from dripping onto the ground, and then, carrying Windfang’s body single-handedly, walked to the small tree. She embedded the Neo Wester family sigil into the trunk before heading west, out of the copse.

”

Her meaning was clear: Victor only had to take this sigil to the small Church in the Dekeizer Earldom and meet with Emperor Neo Wester to retrieve Windfang’s body.

”

Victor’s face darkened, his heart seething with rage. He hated being coerced, and he hated being spied on in the wilderness even more. This was no longer a question of how much Windfang was worth, but of how the other party had managed to find him so precisely. It hadn’t been long since Victor had killed Windfang, and that female knight had immediately stolen the corpse. This meant she had been nearby, witnessing the entire battle. If she had decided to do something then, the consequences would have been unpredictable.

”

On second thought, Victor seemed to understand their methods. The Sword Mantis Knights could determine Windfang’s general location. They must have sent a scout squad of Silver Knights to shadow him and Windfang from a distance. A few days ago, Victor had felt Father Miller’s amulet heat up, after which the Sword Mantis Knights had lost his trail for a time. Only recently had they reappeared on the periphery of the battlefield. That female knight only had to follow the Sword Mantis Knights’ scout squad to pinpoint Victor’s area. Both Windfang’s Bloodlust and Victor’s Azure Blade would disturb the void element, something a High-ranked Knight’s elemental Perception could not miss. But to clearly perceive such elemental changes, one had to be a Gold Knight. And only a Gold Knight could have eluded the eyes and ears of the Sword Mantis Knights’ scouts.

”

Gold female knights were pitifully few in the human kingdoms. House Neo Wester only had two Silver female knights, both of whom were Nachtigal’s legitimate daughters, and they would never facilitate a reconciliation between the Randt Imperial territory and Gambis.

”

After much deliberation, Victor concluded that the Gold female knight could only be a core member of one of the six great Paladin families. Only the Radiant Knights would be so eager to sever the close ties between Neo Wester and Nachtigal.

”

Only with Aerie Fortress’s agreement to the Randt Imperial territory’s expansion south of the river would the Randt Imperial Family be determined enough to break with Nachtigal. If the talks fell through, Neo Wester would have to continue clinging to the Lightguard. Before a consensus was reached, any private meeting had to be conducted with extreme caution, ensuring Nachtigal remained unaware.

”

This must have been a prerequisite for cooperation between House Neo Wester and the Radiant Knights, which was why the Curia and the Radiant Knights had gone to such lengths to conceal it, leaving no trace.

”

However, for a female Paladin to steal Victor’s fortune of several hundred thousand Gold Sols and coerce him into a meeting with Neo Wester was showing far too little regard for His Highness Randell.

”

This was outrageous!

”

To have finally killed a monster, only for someone to steal the corpse… Victor felt as sick as if he’d swallowed a fly.

”

Seething with frustration, His Highness Randell immediately gave chase. Before he had gone far, a man’s combat boot prints appeared on the ground, alongside the female knight’s. They walked shoulder to shoulder, very close to each other, indicating they were of equal status and had an intimate relationship.

”

The Gold female knights of the Paladin families all had Gold Paladin partners. Victor didn’t know much about Gold Paladins, only that they were said to possess Legendary-rank strength. He felt he could handle one with ease, but if he had to face two at once, he would have to be cautious.

”

Anything could happen in a wilderness encounter. To be safe, Victor used his familiarity with the terrain to make a wide circle, climbing a ridge where he found a concealed position to silently await his targets.

”

Before long, a man and a woman came into Victor’s view. The female knight had brown hair and green eyes, a beautiful face, and a slender figure. A longsword hung at her waist, and she wore an exquisite set of women’s Dragon-Lizard leather armor, bearing no marks to identify her family. The male Knight had broad shoulders and a narrow waist, stood 1.95 meters tall, and wore a plain suit of rhino leather armor. He carried no weapon, but Windfang’s corpse was slung over his shoulder. He looked to be in his twenties, with handsome features, amber eyes, and dark red hair the color of blood—the mark of the Neo Wester family’s barbarian Bloodline.

”

Victor was greatly surprised. Neo Wester and Gambis were currently hostile. For him to be tracking a lord of Gambis in the wilderness could only be seen as malicious. This was hardly the attitude for a negotiation.

”

How could the Emperor of Randt be so reckless? And who was the female knight beside him?

”

Victor pondered for a moment, then began to carefully identify Neo Wester’s features, calling upon the wind element to lock onto his information and mark him as a Nemesis target. Then, he concealed himself and sensed Neo Wester’s movements.

”

With his current Spirit, he could only lock onto one Nemesis target at a time. The image of Neo Wester returned by the wind element was very clear, but the female knight beside him was a blur. However, within a circular area 2.6 meters in diameter, air vibrations were converted into sound signals, allowing Victor to “hear” their conversation.

”

“Vera, I still feel that taking His Highness Randell’s prey wasn’t right…”

”

“Hmph, what’s not right about it? If I didn’t do this, he wouldn’t agree to meet you… For me, a legitimate daughter of House Relgarrel, to stoop to stealing someone’s prey, wasn’t it all for you?”

”

“I… actually, I think things are fine as they are.”

”

“Fine? Nachtigal wants you to go to the Eastern Alliance, and you think that’s fine? Does Uncle Adrian think so too?”

”

“That’s not what I mean. I meant things in the Randt Imperial territory are fine…”

”

“Don’t say another word. Just be good and listen to me… Our child will inherit a fertile domain, not be banished to the Eastern Alliance!”

”

“Alright… Vera, I think we should give Windfang’s body to the Sword Mantis Knights and tell them His Highness Randell was the one who killed it…”

”

“You… you’re scared?”

”

“His Highness Randell is a Legendary. His methods are mysterious and unpredictable, impossible to defend against. He might have already caught up to us… but I’m not afraid of him.” Neo Wester pursed his lips and continued, “I’m worried he’ll use you to threaten me… In any case, stay close to me. I can protect you.”

”

“Hehe, what a good little brother. Call me ‘sister’ and let me hear it.”

”

“…Vera, I’m ten years older than you.”

”

“I don’t care… There’s no one else here. Call me sister, and I’ll have a reward for you.”

”

“No.”

”

“Say it!”

”

“Sister.”

”

The two chatted and laughed as they walked, with the female knight mostly teasing her lover, while Neo Wester stammered, struggling to keep up. Victor also overheard some secrets. For example, Neo Wester’s lover was a noblewoman from the core faction of the Paladin family Relgarrel. She was a Silver Knight, but not a Paladin, and she was three months pregnant. Neo Wester was content with the status quo, but his lover and his subordinates all hoped to expand into the Southern Continent. The Gold Knight Adrian had great influence over the Emperor of Randt and was the main force pushing for the alliance with the Radiant Knights.

”

What stunned Victor was that the Legendary Knight Neo Wester was so meek and submissive with his lover, completely unlike the decisive Emperor of Randt he was supposed to be.

”

But then, who decreed that a Gold Knight must be forceful and domineering?

”

A Gold Knight’s appearance reflects their inner self. Neo Wester looked to be in his twenties, appearing green and tender, and that was his personality. But that didn’t mean his conviction was weak. It was just that his conviction might not be the revival of the Randt Empire.

”

As far as Victor knew, this generation’s Emperor of Randt was a product of House Neo Wester’s endogamy. He was pushed onto the throne by Duke Adrian because he had awakened his barbarian Bloodline.

”

Endogamy violated the principle of heraldry against marriage between blood relatives within three generations and was a taboo among the Knight-Nobles. Only those families desperate to cultivate a pure bloodline would secretly practice it. The partners in such marriages were always marginal blood-kin with no importance in the family. They held no power and lived in seclusion, their main task being the restoration of their ancestors’ pure bloodline.

”

Having grown up in such an environment, it was inevitable that Neo Wester would have a pure personality. And it was because of this purity that he was able to step into the legendary realm. As for the great responsibility of reviving the Randt Empire, it was likely something Adrian had forced upon him.

”

Seeing Neo Wester like this, Victor believed his conviction was the original one: to restore the glory of his ancestors.

”

Reviving the Randt Empire and reviving House Neo Wester were not the same concept. There was much to exploit here.

”

After careful consideration, Victor decided to meet with Neo Wester. He turned and left the ridge, running toward a valley up ahead.

”

As Neo Wester and Vera entered the valley, he suddenly pulled his lover behind him.

”

“Careful.”

”

An adamantine-tipped arrow shrouded in a cyan-black airflow shot swiftly toward them. Neo Wester looked up. As the arrow flew into the ten-meter radius around him, the airflow rapidly dissipated, and the projectile slowed from a blur to a crawl, finally hanging suspended in mid-air. Neo Wester gently plucked it from the air.

”

The Elemental Domain of a Legendary Knight.

”

Vera Relgarrel followed Neo Wester’s gaze and saw a young man holding a war bow standing on a giant rock to their left. He had a slender, straight posture and wore a torn suit of Dragon-Lizard leather armor. His features were refined, his ears slightly pointed. He had black hair and black eyes, and the dark, profound orbs were ringed by a halo of dark gold, mysterious and reserved, noble and restrained.

”

“His Highness Randell!”

”

Victor ignored the high-ranking female knight, his eyes fixed on the Gnoll corpse on Neo Wester’s shoulder. He spoke, word by word, “That is my prey!”

”

Neo Wester hastily dropped Windfang’s body, lowered his head, and rubbed his hands together awkwardly. “I’m sorry,” he said, ashamed. “We shouldn’t have taken your war trophy.”

”

Is there really an Emperor who follows the rules so a-dherently… Victor suppressed the urge to facepalm and nodded. “You may leave.”

”

“Thank you.” Neo Wester took his lover’s hand to walk forward but was pulled to a stop by her.

”

“Wait!”

”

Vera rolled her eyes at Neo Wester, then turned her beautiful, lake-green eyes to Victor. She smiled and said, “It seems His Highness Randell already knows my love’s identity. Allow me to introduce myself. I am the second daughter of His Highness Morit Relgarrel, a Countess of the Kingdom of Ayr, and the Silver Knight Vera Relgarrel… Your Highness, please allow me to explain. We only wanted to help you carry the Gnoll’s body back to the Church in the Dekeizer Earldom…”

”

“It’s worth three hundred thousand Gold Sols… I can carry it myself.”

”

Victor planted his Eagle Wing Bow on the ground with one hand, raised his fine, sword-straight eyebrows, and said bluntly, “My Lady Relgarrel, you were tracking me in the wilderness. Do you expect me to thank you?”

”

Vera’s eyes darted. “Your Highness emphasizes that the wilderness is a lawless place,” she said with a charming smile. “In that case, was there anything wrong with us taking the Gnoll’s corpse?”

”

Since the wilderness was a lawless place, anything could happen, and anything could be discussed. The basis for dialogue was mutual strength, and both Neo Wester and Victor possessed it. If Neo Wester had been afraid, he wouldn’t have taken Windfang’s body. If Victor was afraid, he wouldn’t have revealed himself. If he had actually gone to the Church to retrieve his war trophy, he would have lost the upper hand.

”

She’s a formidable character, no wonder she has Neo Wester wrapped around her finger… Victor smiled faintly and said, “Let’s not waste any more time. What is it you want to say?”

”

“I believe it should be Your Highness who asks the questions,” the female knight said with a purse-lipped smile.

”

Though he knew it was one of Vera’s negotiation tactics, Victor was still satisfied. “Why did you seek me out?” he asked.

”

“In the Gambis Senate, Your Highness is the only lord who supports building a port at the mouth of Lake Fies. We believe that with your wisdom, you can see further than others.” Vera paused before continuing, “Do you remember Priest Kent from Raven Town? When you visited the barbarian Elder, Lord Kent determined that you would advance to the Legendary rank. He passed this news to my father. Therefore, we believe you not only have vision, but also sufficient influence.”

”

She added, “This matter is being led by my House of Relgarrel and has the approval of the six great Paladin families. You need not worry about being drawn into the Radiant Knights’ ranking disputes.”

”

Victor nodded. “So, House Relgarrel is preparing to develop secular power in the Southern Continent?”

”

“Yes. The Southern Continent is vast and boundless, full of unclaimed land. Gambis is powerful, but it cannot swallow all of it. After we intervene, we can discuss a cooperative plan to ensure Gambis receives benefits commensurate with its strength. Her Highness Sylvia will play a most crucial role in the distribution of these benefits, which also aligns with House of Randell’s desires, does it not?”

”

“At the very least, our intervention in the southern expansion strategy can prevent the Kingdom of Borea from holding Gambis back… It’s much better than Nachtigal’s intervention.”

”

Victor gave a noncommittal smile and asked, “And your sincerity?”

”

Vera gently caressed her lower abdomen, a happy smile on her face. “I’m pregnant…”

”

Neo Wester puffed out his chest, stepped forward, and wrapped an arm around Vera’s still-slender waist. “It’s my child,” he declared loudly.

”

Flaunting their love like that… And I don’t even have an heir… Victor pressed a fist to his mouth, coughed dryly, and nodded. “Congratulations… This is the reason I agreed to see you.”

”

Neo Wester being involved with a high-ranking female knight from a Paladin family, and with a child on the way, was a fact that revealed many signals. In short: Neo Wester and the Paladin families had set aside over seven hundred years of hostility and established mutual trust. Gaining the support of the Radiant Knights was equivalent to betraying Nachtigal. And Nachtigal was very likely the mastermind behind the murder of Ryan Auguste.

”

But this didn’t mean that House Auguste was willing to let go of its hatred for Neo Wester.

”

“You killed my King,” Victor said, his gaze cold as he looked at the Emperor of Randt.

”

“I… did not!”

”

Neo Wester shook his head, refuting the claim. “There were those who hoped I would kill Ryan in a knightly duel, but I didn’t want to do that… I promised Ryan three attacks. As long as he could make me take half a step back, I would withdraw from the Eastern Province and pardon the two Earls for their rebellion. If Ryan could not, he would hand the rebels over to me, cede territory, and kneel before me… Ryan didn’t keep his word. After three attacks failed to move me, he used an immature Transcendent combat skill and ended up having his body and mind consumed by the Elemental Sea.”

”

“Although I was injured, it wasn’t serious. I had the chance to deal with Roland, but I held back.”

”

Vera explained from the side, “At that time, Her Highness Sylvia was on the walls of Fanged City and witnessed the entire duel. If Neo Wester had counter-attacked Ryan, she would never have let him go.”

”

Victor was at a loss for words. Neo Wester only defended, never attacking, not retreating a single step. Where was Ryan supposed to put his pride? With the rare opportunity to spar with a Legendary Knight, the audacious Ryan Auguste naturally took the chance to glimpse the mysteries of the legendary realm, only to get himself killed.

”

One could only say that Neo Wester’s personality made people want to take advantage of his honest nature, making them forget that he was a Highness with Legendary power.

”

“What’s the point of saying all this now? Roland will not let you go.”

”

“I await her challenge at any time.” Neo Wester nodded, then said with an indignant huff, “Please convey to Her Highness Roland… in a duel to the death, I will not hold back. Especially not with House Auguste… they do not respect the rules of a knightly duel.”

”

Victor’s mouth twitched. He changed the subject. “We in Gambis have a vision of founding an empire. If you announce the dissolution of the Randt Empire and assume the title of a Duke, I will have the standing to propose to Aerie Fortress the matter of cooperating with Neo Wester to develop the Southern Continent. But I make no promises that my counsel will be accepted by the Senate… I am certain of one thing, though. The conditions for a port at Lake Sus are superior, and one day, there will be a lakeside port.”

”

“Dissolve the Randt Empire?!”

”

Vera was stunned at first, then her expression grew thoughtful. Neo Wester glanced at her, then said uncertainly, “This matter… I must return and seek the counsel of my family’s vassals.”

”

“So be it.”

”

Victor nodded, picked up his Eagle Wing Bow, and said, “Leave Windfang. We will part ways here.”

”

Seeing Neo Wester shielding Vera as they walked toward the other end of the valley, Victor couldn’t help but ask, “May I ask one thing? Your Majesty, why were you unwilling to follow Nachtigal’s advice and kill King Ryan during the duel?”

”

Neo Wester stopped and looked up. “I think the Randt Imperial territory is fine as it is… There’s no need to stir up conflict.”

”

“…But he told you that if you did nothing, your Imperial territory would be continually eroded by Gambis?”

”

Neo Wester nodded in surprise, said nothing, and continued walking.

”

Once they were out of the valley, Vera sighed. “Dissolving the Randt Empire is actually a very good suggestion… But this matter has far-reaching implications. You will face great difficulty, and may even be vilified. Moreover, if you dissolve the Randt Empire, you lose your sovereign status over the four kingdoms. House Auguste can then legitimately launch a war of revenge against you, and Nachtigal will no longer interfere. His Highness Randell came from Aerie Fortress’s attendants and is close to Roland. It’s possible he might join the crusade against you… In other words, we cannot be certain if this is a trap deliberately set by His Highness Randell… The key is how much support the Radiant Knights can give you. I’ll go back and ask my father.”

”

Neo Wester thought for a moment and said, “All I need is for the Radiant Knights to guarantee that Sylvia won’t interfere!”

”

“What do you mean?”

”

“Although His Highness Randell is a Legendary, he can’t beat me,” Neo Wester said, full of confidence.

”

The words had barely left his mouth when a gentle breeze suddenly transformed into a cyan-black airflow, which then shifted into an indigo void wind element and shot toward Neo Wester’s hair. He abruptly raised a hand, catching the sharp, blue streak of light and crushing it in his palm.

”

With a “hiss,” the air crackled and turbulence erupted. Neo Wester’s rhino leather gauntlet was torn apart by the void wind element, but his palm was completely unscathed.

”

Vera glanced around before turning back, her expression a mix of shock and doubt. “Is that the Transcendent combat skill His Highness Randell used to kill Windfang from a distance?”

”

“He can’t beat me… and I can’t beat him,” Neo Wester said honestly, looking at his tattered gauntlet. Then his expression changed drastically.

”

“This is bad…”

”

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Vera hid in Neo Wester’s arms, looking around warily, afraid that Victor might send an attack her way as well.

”

“He probably heard me call you ‘sister’…” Neo Wester said, somewhat embarrassed.

”

“Pfft. Adam, why are you so adorable?”

”

Four kilometers away, Victor was cutting off the Savage Gnoll’s head, tendons, and heart. A moment ago, he hadn’t been able to resist testing the effect of his Nemesis ability against a Legendary Earth Knight like Neo Wester.

”

“It seems neither of us can do anything to the other. But I’ve only just stepped into the Legendary rank. I still have enormous room for improvement!”

Chapter 528: The Forging Method

On February 15th, Radiant Year 7571, Victor Randell, Viscount Lord of Gambis, slew the Gold-rank Gnoll Windfang in the mountains of the Southern Realm of Naville. The Viscount’s eyes had taken on a strange dark gold hue. He returned with the Gnoll’s head. The King of Naville held a celebration for Randell in the Dekeizer Earldom, addressing him as a Highness and ordering bards to sing of His Highness Randell’s heroic slaying of the Gnoll.

The Holy See designated Viscount Randell as a Highness, informing all dioceses in the human kingdoms.

Aerie Fortress officially announced that on November 15th of this year, the wedding celebration of King Edward Auguste and Angelina Blanstait Auguste would be held. His Majesty Edward would also conduct the investiture of His Highness Randell as the Earl of Gambis, bestowing upon him the title of Protector of the Kingdom.

The powerful families of the various kingdoms, as well as all Highnesses, dispatched envoys to Blinor City bearing gifts to congratulate the King of Gambis on his wedding and the addition of a new Protector of the Kingdom.

With this, Gambis once again had four Highnesses. Its high-end military might surpassed all other kingdoms, solidifying an unshakeable position.

Opinions on His Highness Randell’s strength were varied. Some believed that as an extraordinary archer capable of crushing a Gold-rank Gnoll in close combat, he had to be a legendary powerhouse. Others held the opposite view, arguing that since His Highness Randell did not use his Eagle Wing Bow to kill Windfang, it was not enough to prove that his extraordinary archery surpassed his close-combat abilities, and he should be considered a Gold-rank Highness. But no one doubted that His Highness Randell would one day step into the legendary realm, or perhaps even go further. For his eyes had taken on a strange dark gold color, just like Sword Saint Draven from three thousand years ago.

In the future, when his form fully transformed to have gold hair and gold eyes, he would be able to procreate with the Spirit Knight Sylvia. Their offspring would be favored by the origin of the world and could add a noble and stable Gold Bloodline to the human kingdoms.

Compared to His Highness Randell’s Gold-rank ancient bloodline, his personal martial prowess was of secondary importance.

A secret theory circulated three thousand years ago suggested that Spirit Knights were born from the will of the world’s origin, and any Knight could potentially become a Spirit Knight, representing the highest level of the knight’s bloodline. The ancient Chosen had arranged a marriage alliance between a Knight and the Moon Elf royal family in order to uncover the secrets of the knight’s bloodline origin through the offspring of a Sun Elf and a Spirit Knight. If humans could master the method by which Moon Elf nobles ascended to become Sun Elves, they would no longer need to fear the weakening and extinction of the knight’s bloodline. However, instances of Sun Elves were far too rare, and the Knight-Nobles and the Church had never managed to discern the pattern.

Now, this theory was being unearthed once more. For a time, Randell’s golden eyes became a hot topic in the circles of Extraordinary Knights. The major powers all wanted to know about his experiences in the Kingdom of Naville, investigating every detail of his diet, sleep, combat, daily routines, and even his mood swings. Ideally, they wanted to speak with His Highness Randell face-to-face.

But this was impossible. After attending the celebratory banquet hosted by King Rex, Randell accepted no more invitations, declined all meeting requests, and avoided the public eye. Even among the lords of Naville, few knew where he was now.

In a remote and scenic valley in the western part of the Dekeizer Earldom, where few people ever set foot, Countess Dekeizer had her family craftsmen build wooden houses and an outpost for His Highness Randell to use for his secluded cultivation.

No matter the clamor of the outside world, for Victor, the most important thing at present was to consolidate his gains and tailor a Mind Bloodline secret art for himself.

After more than twenty days of exploration and experimentation, Victor finally linked his newly awakened talents with the theory of the Mind and Bloodline, mastering an effective training method.

First were the four fundamental attributes: Physique, Spirit, Perception, and Life. They represented the four basic elements: earth, fire, wind, and water. The Alchemy Tower had already revealed that these four elements were the source of all changes in the Laws, existing in a state of flowing equilibrium. When one attribute changes, the others also change to establish a new state of balance, which could be stronger or perhaps weaker.

This gave Victor two paths of thought: a slow, balance-breaking improvement, or a rapid, balance-shattering weakening.

Victor called them the Forging Method and the Sundering Method, respectively.

The Forging Method prioritized the enhancement of fundamental attributes. A skyscraper is built from the ground up. The more solid the foundation, the higher the tower, until all other mountains look small from its peak. As his spiritual power grew, Victor could perform many more feats with his Mind Bloodline secret art and extraordinary talents. To increase his spiritual power, he could focus on the attributes of Physique, Perception, and Life.

When a person’s physique is strong, their life force grows with it. As their spirit controls an increasingly powerful body, it is naturally enhanced, which in turn sharpens their perception. Training one’s perception could also enhance spiritual power, and more directly at that. However, this might weaken the Physique and Life attributes.

Victor took a two-pronged approach. Through stance training and internal visualization, he exercised his tendons, bones, and internal organs. Through meditation, he trained his Spirit and Perception. He changed his visualization object to his own ideal state, adjusting the bloodline Laws of digestion, absorption, growth, and repair.

Now, his appetite had increased dramatically. He consumed large quantities of meat, grains, and fruit every day, no longer favoring a vegetarian diet as he once had. Although X-3 had lost its digitized vision, its function for precise calculation remained unchanged. Victor was certain that during his battle with Windfang, his Physique attribute had increased from 9 to 12. After this period of secluded training, his Physique attribute had reached 15, equivalent to the total strength of 1.5 Elite Soldiers, or 2.25 times that of an ordinary adult male.

The improvement in his Physique attribute had a direct effect on his Surge talent. Initially, Victor could use his Surge talent to increase his strength by six times, and with the increase in his body’s toughness, he could barely reach five times the strength of an Elite Soldier. Now, Surge boosted it by eight times, equivalent to the combined strength of twelve Elite Soldiers, putting him on the level of an initial-rank Silver Knight. If he used Apocalypse, Victor’s burst of strength and physical toughness could rival that of a high-rank Silver Knight.

The increase of Surge from a six-fold to an eight-fold boost was also related to his Spirit and Life attributes.

By referencing his remembered body data and combining it with his current physical changes, Victor calculated his four elemental attributes to be: Physique 15.4, Spirit 26.7, Perception 32.6, and Life 31.3.

The growth and changes in his four attributes not only greatly enhanced Victor’s original bloodline talents but also gave them more room for application.

Healing: The human bloodline’s Life Tenacity talent combined with the elven bloodline’s Surge talent. Under the states of Life Concealment and internal visualization, and with X-3’s meticulous control, it could mobilize the water element to repair bodily trauma.

This involved many mysteries of bloodline Law and the principles were extremely complex. Simply put, Victor could withstand severe physical injuries. Even if his heart were pierced, he wouldn’t die right away. By actively using his Healing talent, he could repair wounds, with the speed of healing related to the severity of the injury.

If he used a Regeneration Potion, combined with his digestion, absorption, and Healing talents, even limb regeneration was achievable. Of course, Victor wasn’t foolish enough to chop off a hand or foot, or stab himself in the heart to verify this; it was a conclusion reached through X-3’s Deduction.

Even if there was a discrepancy between the estimate and reality, having the Healing talent was equivalent to having an innate healing divine art within his body.

Limit Evasion: The combination of Combat Intuition and the Wind Walk talent. Under X-3’s Apocalypse state, it would manifest void wind elements to surround his body, allowing for a pre-emptive dodge that broke through his limits.

Since Limit Evasion involved a high level of premonition and required a burst of all of Victor’s potential and X-3’s full computational power, it was as fast as an instantaneous flash. However, he could not think or perform any other actions during the process, making it akin to a trigger-style passive talent.

Victor had a faint feeling that Limit Evasion had enormous potential, almost touching upon the mysteries of the Elemental Sea of wind. If all of Victor’s extraordinary talents were to be graded, Limit Evasion would be on par with Nemesis. Combining the two to work in concert was Victor’s path to breaking through to the Legendary-rank.

Unfortunately, Victor had only practiced Limit Evasion four times against Windfang. After Windfang’s fourth full-power attack failed to injure him, the Gnoll lost its fighting spirit and stopped trying to counterattack. With Windfang having lost its value, Victor killed it. His exploration of Limit Evasion was still insufficient; he would have to wait until he returned to the Centaur Hills and ask Sylvia for help with drills.

Nemesis: The highest expression of all of Victor’s current abilities. It possessed Tracking Intuition lock-on, beyond-visual-range monitoring, the ability to summon wind elements, manifest void wind elements, and a sure-hit property. Besides lacking a condensed Law Rune, it was no different from Wizardry, having reached the level where the Light of the Mind could alter reality.

With his spiritual power, Victor could lock onto one target at a time within a 6.3-kilometer radius, with a 3-meter area of effect. He could subject the target to a continuous 7-second wind blade vortex or four consecutive void element strikes. In Nemesis’s ranged state, Victor would lose the target if he moved, but as long as the target did not leave the 6.3-kilometer radius, he could quickly lock on again. The closer Nemesis was to Victor, the fewer the restrictions and the more terrifying its effect.

At that moment, King Rex was witnessing this astonishing scene. Streams of cyan-black airflow swirled and coiled around Victor like void pythons. The air friction was contained within a fixed area, so he couldn’t hear the ear-piercing shriek, but the monstrous pythons of air swept up the turquoise pool water and fine gravel, shredding branches and blades of grass, which was enough to demonstrate their terrifying power and outstanding field control.

Rex believed that even a dense volley from military heavy crossbows could no longer harm Victor.

Victor noticed the King’s visit. The light in his golden eyes blazed, and the cyan-black air currents transformed into a dozen wind blades, shooting forward. A sharp whistle cut through the air, and all the shrubs and short trees within thirty meters ahead of him snapped and broke.

The golden light in his eyes receded into a dark gold ring. Victor let out a long breath, ending today’s Drill.

Countess Ariel, clad in Mithril armor, took a step forward and said, “Your Highness, His Majesty Rex is here. I saw that you were practicing a Transcendent combat skill, so I did not report to you immediately.”

As she spoke, the Countess of Aerie Fortress shot a glance at Enchino, the Naville Liaison Officer, who was busy writing and recording on a piece of parchment nearby.

Announcing Rex’s arrival should have been Enchino’s responsibility, but this young Knight spent all his time observing His Highness Randell’s practice of his secret art and combat techniques. It would be one thing if he just watched, but he was also drawing diagrams and taking notes on hide paper. And if that wasn’t enough, he was pestering His Highness Randell with all sorts of questions.

Is Victor your Highness, or our Highness?

The knights from Aerie Fortress and Rose Manor were full of complaints about the people of Naville. When Catherine saw Rex approaching, she couldn’t even be bothered to greet him, simply hiding in the wooden house and refusing to show her face.

Humans knew nothing about the Elves’ system of power. How Moon Elf bloodline nobles grew stronger was entirely a matter of self-exploration. The Transcendent combat skill created by Sword Saint Draven was regarded as a priceless treasure by the great families. Victor shared the same bloodline as Draven yet had walked a different Path. Compared to Draven’s combat technique scroll, his cultivation method progressed from simple to profound and was summarized with a corresponding theory, forming a complete system of inestimable value.

The knights of Gambis were perplexed. His Highness Randell clearly knew the people of Naville were recording his secret art, so why did he still answer all of Enchino’s questions in detail?

Victor didn’t think much of it. He had achieved what he had today by standing on the shoulders of giants. The theoretical legacy of the Alchemical Empire, Draven’s combat technique scroll, Sylvia’s three-in-one nature, Roland’s assistance, Tournans’s Light of the Mind, and Father Miller’s Proverb had all benefited him greatly.

Knowledge lies in legacy and accumulation, and a true powerhouse will always light the way for those who follow. Draven left behind a precious combat technique scroll for his successors, and Victor possessed the same magnanimity.

However, teaching was one thing, but tuition still had to be collected.

The gifts the lords of Naville gave Victor were worth, at a high estimate, one million Gold Sols, and at a low estimate, no less than three hundred thousand Gold Sols. Of course, Victor’s help to Naville was beyond the measure of ordinary wealth and could not be valued in money. But the 200,000 Gold Sol reward that King Rex had delivered immediately was a different matter.

The Church had a bounty of 20,000 gold coins on Windfang’s head, the Kingdom of Sus offered 70,000, and Naville offered 200,000, for a total of 290,000 Gold Sols. In truth, Windfang wasn’t worth that much. Naville’s offer of 200,000 and a barony was intended to support the youngest son of a Highness. Boulderhold had already used the Sword Mantis Knights and a Wizard to trap Windfang and could have taken its head at any time. Victor had meddled and disrupted Boulderhold’s plan, yet Rex said nothing and promptly paid the 200,000 Gold Sol reward.

Victor had said before that hunting Windfang would be richly rewarded. Now that the dust had settled, he fulfilled his promise, teaching this unique Forging Method without reservation.

As for whether the people of Naville could learn it, Victor thought it unlikely. On one hand, the number of Moon Elf bloodline nobles was too small, limiting the audience. Without practitioners, the Forging Method would most likely be hidden away in Boulderhold’s secret vault to collect dust. On the other hand, this Forging Method was tailor-made for Victor himself. Many parts of it required X-3. With X-3, it was a natural success; without X-3, the effort would be doubled for half the result, making it difficult to touch upon the secrets of the Mind and Bloodline.

In the Forging Method, X-3 played a supporting role, but in the Sundering Method, it was the core. Victor’s Limit Evasion and Nemesis both relied entirely on X-3’s integration and mobilization of his talents. If an ordinary elven bloodline noble practiced Victor’s Forging Method, it was uncertain if they could awaken the Surge talent, but mastering Wind Walk would be no problem. If they wanted to replicate Victor’s Sundering Method combat techniques, they couldn’t even get their foot in the door.

Victor nodded to Rex and said with a smile, “Your Majesty, I’ve kept you waiting.”

“Cousin Victor, you don’t have to be so formal with me.” Rex laughed heartily, looking him up and down before asking curiously, “Was that a new Transcendent combat skill you were just using?”

Victor nodded and said with reserve, “Raging Wind Domain… it’s still not perfect. I need to keep refining it.”

A domain… A control domain has always been the specialty of an Earth Knight. Since when did a Wind Whisper Archer have a domain?

Rex grumbled inwardly as he heard Victor continue:

“The Raging Wind Domain is fine for bullying weaker creatures, but against ferocious monsters with tough physiques, its killing power is lacking… Wind element, after all, is not void wind element. It seems intangible, but it’s actually a physical-level attack. If it runs up against an Earth Knight’s void element field… the Raging Wind Domain is basically rendered useless.”

Not ‘basically’ useless, it would definitely be rendered completely calm… Rex thought with a hint of pride. Just as he was about to comfort his cousin, he heard him say:

“I’ve positioned the Raging Wind Domain as a form of interference, controlling air currents to enter a monster’s nose, mouth, ears, and eyes to disrupt in its senses. If it isn’t wearing pants… the result could be quite miserable. It would be great if I could convert the wind elements that enter a monster’s body into void wind elements… Unfortunately, I can’t manage such extreme control at the moment…”

Rex’s mouth snapped shut. He remained silent for a long moment before saying dryly, “Cousin, I’m not familiar with void wind elements, so I can’t help you… I’ve brought you the things you asked for.”

Chapter 529: Sundering Method

A Sword Mantis Knight walked forward, carrying a large iron chest. Rex opened the lid, took out the Eagle Wing Bow, and tossed it to Victor.

“I had it readjusted according to your specifications. See if it’s got enough kick… That Two-headed Dragon-Lizard leather armor of yours is torn to shreds, it’s beyond repair. I wanted to have my craftsmen make you a new dragon-lizard leather armor in the Naville style, but I just don’t have any dragon-lizard hide…”

“533 pounds. That’s got some kick!”

Victor released the spider silk bowstring and said nonchalantly, “Don’t trouble yourself with the leather armor. My wife, Sylvia, still has plenty of hide from the Two-headed Dragon-Lizard…”

An uncanny silence fell over the scene. Victor turned his head and saw Rex looking as if he’d seen a ghost. Countess Ariel and the Sword Mantis Knights averted their gazes, pretending they hadn’t heard a thing.

“What is it? Is the way I talk not in the Naville style?” Victor asked, puzzled.

Countess Ariel let out a snort of laughter and turned to walk towards the wooden cabin, her steps hurried and her shoulders trembling. High-ranked Knights were adept at controlling their emotions, but the opportunity to laugh at the King of Naville was a rare one.

Rex glared at Victor and yelled, “What do you mean, ‘Naville style’? Naville is a kingdom that values etiquette above all! We would never use the word ‘wife’! Never!”

“Rex, I’ve heard you use that term…”

“You heard wrong! You must have heard wrong!” Rex denied it flatly. He then pulled two different arrows from the chest, shoved them into Victor’s hands, and laughed heartily. “Try out your new bow and arrows… My blacksmith swore when he forged these that if anyone could hit a target three hundred meters away with either of these, he would shave off his beloved beard. I’d love to see him without it… Hopefully, his bad temper will disappear along with his beard.”

Victor smiled faintly. He took the two arrows in his right hand and nocked one of them. This arrow was oddly shaped, forged entirely from Adamantine and high-grade raw iron. It was as thick as a little finger, its shaft covered in sharp, spiraling ridges.

A light breeze circled the shaft, quickly turning into a stream of cyan-black air. Victor drew the bow to its full extent. The metal warbow resembled a diving eagle folding its wings. The spider silk bowstring let out a soul-stirring hum as the arrow, shrouded in the cyan-black airflow, shot out like a streak of black light, gliding through the air at high speed and striking a tall hemlock three hundred and eighty meters away.

Bang! With a loud crack, the airflow exploded. Wood splinters flew everywhere, and hemlock needles rained down. A gaping hole the size of a bowl had appeared in the trunk of the tree, which was as thick as a man’s embrace.

Liaison Officer Enchino’s jaw hung open, his eyes filled with shock. The Sword Mantis Knight also raised an eyebrow. Rex, however, nodded in praise. “The high-speed rotation of the airflow causes the arrow to spin rapidly. Both the air and the arrow tear into the target’s wound, causing immense damage… A very clever extraordinary archery skill. It has enough power, but its flight speed and range are somewhat reduced.”

Victor’s skill in the Forging Method was at the pinnacle of the current era, but his Sundering Method was still at a lower level, primarily focused on physically striking a target’s body. Sylvia slaying the great beast Itugos and Tournans killing the Centaur Great Khan were both acts of discerning an enemy’s weakness, disrupting their elemental balance to achieve victory against a stronger foe, and then retreating unscathed.

Sylvia and Tournans represented the highest level of the Sundering Method for Knights and clergy, respectively. Although Victor possessed a Legendary-rank combat technique, he still had no good way of dealing with the Aberrant Two-headed Dragon-Lizard or the Legendary Centaur. He wouldn’t reach the realm of discerning an enemy’s elemental balance anytime soon, so for now, he could only enrich his arsenal of extraordinary combat skills to handle different types of enemies.

Giant, large, medium, small, and tiny creatures all coexisted in the same world, each with their own talents: wild intuition, Life Tenacity, a tough Physique, regeneration, the power of the earth, and so on. In his clashes with Windfang and Neo Wester, Victor had become aware of the shortcomings of his Sundering Method.

Bows and arrows were inherently less lethal. Even if a hunter hit a wild bison or wild boar in a vital spot, he would still have to track it for several kilometers to retrieve his prey. The Gale Arrow enhanced the bow’s lethality, but Windfang, relying on his Life Tenacity, had weathered a Gale Arrow and charged straight at Victor. Fortunately, the arrow had disrupted his Wind Walk, slowing him down; otherwise, the gnoll would have torn Victor’s entire chest cavity open.

Ferocious monsters with exceptionally keen intuition could dodge the moment an archer loosed their string. It was difficult for an extraordinary archer to hit their vitals. Victor could use Life Concealment combined with a Charged Shot to kill Windfang, but the problem was that he couldn’t move while using Life Concealment, and there was no telling when a ferocious monster would enter his effective range.

Fortunately, there were not many creatures with such powerful wild intuition, but there was no shortage of resilient monsters.

On the battlefields of the Southern Continent, Victor wouldn’t be able to use Charged Shot many times. When facing a massed charge of centaurs or barbarians, a single Gale Arrow would struggle to seriously injure even one enemy.

The increase in his spiritual power had brought a qualitative leap in both the range and skill of his wind control. Previously, Victor could only control the wind element within his Blind Sense area; the wind element on Wind Walk Arrows and Gale Arrows would dissipate automatically after two seconds of flight. Charged Shot was slightly better, but the void wind element it carried could only be sustained for 2.3 seconds. Now, Victor could make the wind element rotate at high speed, driving a heavy, spiraling arrow to create a cavitating effect upon impact.

One arrow, one large hole. Even if it didn’t kill, it would cause a grievous wound.

This Heavy Gale Arrow was specifically designed for enemies with high Life Tenacity.

This extraordinary archery skill was largely thanks to Nemesis’s ability to control the wind element from a distance, but Nemesis itself had flaws. Its most potent offensive method was pure void wind element damage.

Over twenty days ago, Victor had manifested the void wind element in an attempt to cut Neo Wester’s hair. Neo Wester crushed the sharp void wind element with his bare hands, and not a single drop of blood was drawn from his palm. Neo Wester was a Legendary-rank Earth Knight; the void earth element and void wind element were naturally opposed to each other. The intensity of the void element Victor could mobilize was no match for Neo Wester’s, so it was perfectly normal that Nemesis couldn’t harm him.

However, as a Legendary-rank archer, Victor needed to be able to handle Legendary-rank monsters, or his title would be nothing but empty fame. Yet, many powerful monsters possessed high Elemental Resistance and superb wild intuition. They could withstand the unmissable damage of the void wind element and could evade an archer’s shot in advance.

Against such enemies, neither Charged Shot nor Nemesis would work. But perhaps a combination of the two would.

The second type of arrow was forged for this purpose. Its arrowhead was Adamantine, its shaft Dragonbone Steel, and it had no fletching, looking like a long, thin steel cone.

Dragonbone Steel was a soft, flexible steel that could be bent into any shape. Victor’s idea was to use his ability to control the void wind element from an extreme range to guide the arrow, making it turn and change direction. Even if an enemy could predict the moment the arrow left the string, it could not evade Victor’s tracking arrow.

This tracking arrow technique needed to be fast, leaving the opponent no room to dodge, and have a long enough range to prevent the opponent from counterattacking. Therefore, it couldn’t utilize the shooting technique of the Heavy Gale Arrow, nor was Victor capable of making the void wind element rotate. The tracking arrow might not be able to inflict serious damage on highly resistant enemies, but if Victor could land a few shots, it would be easier for him to close in and finish the job.

In fact, the psychological impact of a long-range attack was terrifying. As long as the tracking arrow could cause effective damage, any enemy Victor targeted would have to worry about being shot in the eye even while sleeping. In battle, an extraordinary archer could often play a decisive role.

Currently, the distance over which Victor could continuously control the void wind element was 744 meters. The tracking arrow was meant to be a guaranteed hit within that range.

“See that Larch Pine over there on the left? I’m going to shoot to the right, and still hit it.”

Victor drew the bowstring taut. His dark eyes turned golden-yellow, and the cyan-black airflow around the conical arrow shifted into the indigo of the void wind element. After brewing for a few seconds, the conical arrow shot towards the sky.

Liaison Officer Enchino’s gaze followed the streak of blue light intently. He saw it tremble in mid-air, then explode into a turbulent gust of wind that gradually dissipated, as if nothing had happened at all.

It failed? How could it fail? How could His Highness Randell possibly fail?

Enchino’s eyes widened in disbelief as he carefully observed the spruce on the left. It stood there perfectly fine, not torn apart by the void wind element. The young knight from the Wimbledon family felt a wave of dejection, not even daring to look at His Highness Randell’s face.

Victor shook his head, muttering to himself in frustration, “How did Sword Saint Draven make his Flowing Fire Arrow a guaranteed hit within a thousand meters? Could it be because of the sea of fire elements?”

Rex furrowed his thick brow and spoke up, “Victor, you might have a misunderstanding about the Elemental Sea.”

Victor turned his head and said solemnly, “I am listening.”

“Enchino, get lost! This isn’t something you should be hearing right now.”

Rex shooed the young knight away before turning back to Victor. “The Elemental Sea is the origin of the world. Within It are endless void elements, but void elements are not meant to manifest in the material world. Extraordinary Knights manifest void elements through their bodies and souls to gain extraordinary authority. The difference between Gold and Silver Knights lies in the magnitude of their extraordinary authority. What we call ‘communicating with the Elemental Sea’ is really just a matter of that authority’s magnitude. The extraordinary power manifested by a Gold Knight is still void element, not fundamentally different from that of a Silver Knight. It’s just that a Gold Knight can mobilize void elements with greater intensity and control than a Silver Knight.”

“In other words, an extraordinary individual manifests void elements using their body and mind as a vessel. Take Neo Wester, for example. His physique and soul are far stronger than those of an ordinary Knight. We have to be meticulous when honing our extraordinary combat skills, but Neo Wester can withstand the scouring of the Elemental Sea on his body and mind multiple times. Of course, it’s easier for him to master extraordinary combat skills and obtain the extraordinary authority of a Legendary-rank. The intensity with which he wields the earth element is several times that of an ordinary Gold Knight.”

A Gold Knight’s extraordinary combat skills were mainly for gaining a deeper understanding of the Elemental Sea, not all of them being combat skills. Generally, a Gold Knight who mastered seven extraordinary combat skills was considered to have stepped into the legendary realm, and their ability to mobilize void elements far surpassed those of the Gold rank.

Realization dawned on Victor. “The void element can only use a body and mind as a vessel,” he said. “When I tried to make the void wind element change direction, it struck the arrow, immediately exhibiting its sharp, cutting properties, which shredded the arrow before dissipating.”

Rex nodded. “That’s right… Sword Saint Draven used a Law Rune to transform void wind element into void fire element. The arrow he shot merely constrained the forward direction and distance of the void wind element. After more than eight hundred meters, the void wind element turned into fire element, the arrow was incinerated, and it was the fire element that flew towards the target, a guaranteed hit… Anyway, I don’t believe the Flowing Fire Arrow can make a feathered arrow turn and change direction… No arrow could bear it!”

Victor said wistfully, “Not even Mithril… It seems my idea is hopeless.”

“Younger male cousin, you are a pioneer of the Moon Elf bloodline. Creating new combat techniques is also paving the way for future generations. How can you give up so easily?” Rex laughed heartily. “Tell me the principle behind this technique. Maybe I can give you some ideas… If it’s inconvenient to say, then forget it.”

Under normal circumstances, a Gold Knight should not inquire about the secrets of Victor’s power. Only someone with Rex’s frank and magnanimous character would make such a direct request.

There was a widely accepted rule in the circle of extraordinary individuals: fights between Gold Knights should be restrained, and they should not fight to the death. Even powerhouses like Sylvia and Neo Wester abided by this rule. Victor was not a Knight, but he was still an extraordinary powerhouse of the human kingdoms. His arrows should be aimed at the other races, not used to kill Gold Knights.

The Highnesses of the human kingdoms kept their civil wars confined to a lower level. For Victor, as a legendary powerhouse, to hide his trump cards from other Highnesses would be a major taboo.

During the Battle of Whitewater Fortress, the wind-element Great Knight, Viscount Negus, killed several of the Sasan Empire’s Great Knights in a row, and the fighting escalated. The Gold Knights of the Sasan Empire and the three southern kingdoms all took the field, and it was Sylvia who suppressed them all, ending the war.

When Gold Knights relied on duels to determine their final influence, it was extraordinary archers like Victor who were in the most awkward position.

Once a bow is drawn, the arrow cannot be recalled. How could a Gale Knight’s attack be restrained? They couldn’t win against Earth Knights and Raging Wave Knights in close combat, so even if they were stronger, they couldn’t just back down, could they?

Therefore, the deterrent power of a Gale Knight was present throughout a war. If someone was foolish enough to provoke him, he didn’t need to be polite.

If you’re not afraid to die, then come and try me!

Victor revealing his extraordinary combat skill would help increase his deterrent power and influence among the human kingdoms, which could save him a lot of trouble.

“My Bloodline ability is to convert wind element into void wind element. Originally, I could only proficiently control the wind element in a two-meter radius. Now… there is nowhere within six kilometers I cannot reach,” Victor said faintly.

Rex clicked his tongue in wonder and praised, “How miraculous. No wonder you can devise a guaranteed-hit extraordinary archery skill… Gale Knights don’t have this kind of ability. They’re just a bunch of brainless brutes, especially the Testier family!”

Victor shook his head. “My control over the void wind element is stable enough, but its intensity can’t compare to that of a Gold-rank Gale Knight. That’s why I thought of using archery techniques to compensate for the lack of power.”

Rex stroked his great beard and said, “I do know of one impossible possibility… The Nachtigal family has a Black Gold sword passed down from the Era of the Chosen. It can carry the flow of void elements… Black Gold is an extremely rare mineral. It is said that it can guide void elements, unlike Mithril’s affinity. However, the method for smelting Black Gold has been lost, mainly because furnace temperatures aren’t high enough… Even if Nachtigal gave you his family heirloom, you wouldn’t be able to smelt it into arrows. Besides, Black Gold is very hard; it can’t be bent.”

Victor blinked and sighed, “What a pity… I’ll have to think of another way.”

“Right! You should go back and talk to your wife about it, hahaha!”

Rex laughed loudly, and after chatting and joking with Victor for a while, he took his leave.

After seeing the King of Naville off, Victor suppressed his inner excitement and sat alone by the pool, lost in thought.

Isn’t Black Gold just Saron Demon Iron? So, it can carry void elements just like a Knight. No wonder the Alchemical Empire classified it as a super-class material… The fire-crystal furnace can refine demon iron ore, and adding a certain proportion of Thorium should solve the problem of the arrow shaft’s softness… If that’s the case, Saron Demon Iron has even wider applications, such as making an Earth Knight’s armor indestructible, or imbuing a Raging Wave Knight’s longsword with a strong freezing effect… The ancient Alchemists were indeed Knights. Much of their legacy can directly enhance a Knight’s abilities.

Victor was overjoyed by his discovery but could find no one to share his happiness with. Suddenly, he saw a pair of beautiful eyes flash in the window of the wooden cabin. The admiration, shyness, and longing they held instantly turned the joy in his heart into a roaring flame.

His Highness Randell walked into the small wooden cabin with light steps. Not long after, Countess Ariel left with several of Aerie Fortress’s handmaidens, closing the door behind her.

A month and a half later, in Aerie Fortress, the Regent’s reception room.

Williams and Marquess Golan sat facing each other. After a long silence, Williams finally spoke, “His Highness Randell has arrived at Flashthunder Town, east of Gambis…”

“I am already aware,” Marquess Golan nodded and asked, puzzled, “You invited me for a secret talk just for this?”

Williams leaned back in his chair, a strange expression on his face. “Catherine is pregnant.”

A genuine smile bloomed on Marquess Golan’s face, seeming to make the scar on his cheek glow. “This is wonderful news! Haha, excellent… Is the information confirmed?”

“The message came from Ariel. It can be trusted.”

Marquess Golan stood up, his face wreathed in smiles. “Send someone to bring Catherine back to Aerie Fortress at once!”

Williams gave a wry smile. “The problem is, His Highness Randell refuses to leave Catherine’s side for a moment.”

Marquess Golan’s expression immediately darkened. He paced back and forth in the room like a restless lion.

He stopped, took a deep breath, and asked, “Sylvia must also know by now. What is her stance?”

Williams shook his head and replied, “There’s been no news.”

“Hmph! This concerns the Gold Bloodline. There is no room for compromise whatsoever!”

Golan snorted heavily and said in a low voice, “I will take the Swift Dragon Knights. We can reach Flashthunder Town by tomorrow morning.”

“Also, do not tell Roland about this… She will only make things worse!”

Rules of Civil War: In wars of annexation, the losing side’s Gold Knight challenges the victor’s Highness. A win means ceding territory and paying reparations; a loss means the entire kingdom surrenders and accepts annexation. Gold Knights cannot attack mortal armies and generally do not kill other knights, instead seeking to capture them to weaken the enemy.

Chapter 530: Persuasion to Leave

Early morning, at the Flashthunder Town lord’s manor.

Catherine opened her eyes. She inhaled the scent of her lover that lingered in the sheets and lazed for a while longer in the comfortable bed, gently stroking her flat, firm abdomen as a happy, sweet smile graced her beautiful face.

“Darling, good morning.”

After gently greeting the little life inside her, Catherine left the large bed. Her delicate, snow-white feet bare, she walked to the bedroom door, pushed open the unlatched wooden door, and saw her lover sitting at the desk in the small living room, writing and drawing with a quill.

Victor stopped his quill and turned to look at Catherine, who was clad in a loose nightgown. He smiled and said, “My love, did I wake you? you should sleep a little longer, and also…”

“And also, a pregnant woman should keep warm and not run around the house barefoot… Alright, please spare me. You’re even more of a nag than my childhood housekeeper.”

Catherine rolled her eyes beautifully, walked over, pushed Victor back into his chair, and sat on his lap. Picking up the parchment from the desk, she asked curiously, “What are you busy with?”

Victor carefully wrapped his arms around Catherine’s waist and said, his face alight with excitement, “I’m designing a shock absorber for a carriage… The one the Baron of Flashthunder Town provided is simply awful. I’m going to ask him to gather craftsmen and build a new carriage. It will be sixteen feet long, seven feet wide, and eight feet high. It can accommodate four people, will have four windows, and be split into two levels. The top level will be an open-air deck with a wide, sunny view, perfect for enjoying the scenery along the way…”

“An open-air design? What about when it rains?”

“Don’t worry, there’s a rain cover… The interior of the carriage will have five rooms, including a washroom, a living room, a storage room, a bedroom, and a servant’s room. Oh, and we can add a small trailer to the back, which would let us turn the storage room into a playroom.”

Catherine leaned softly against Victor’s chest, feeling his strong, vibrant heartbeat. A smile played on her lips as she asked, “How long will it take to build this carriage?”

Victor first calculated the various factors in his mind before stating with certainty, “If I work on it myself, it will only take two months.”

Catherine’s eyes widened in astonishment. “Two months? Are you saying we’re going to stay in Flashthunder Town for two months?”

“Mhm.” Victor nodded, rubbing his chin. “Many new parts need to be forged, and the necessary materials need to be prepared… I’ve already set aside fifteen days. I believe the lord of Flashthunder Town will be able to fulfill my requests.”

Hearing the seriousness in Victor’s tone, Catherine sat up straight. Looking into his eyes, which held a dark golden halo, she said tactfully, “My love, Flashthunder Town is just a remote little town. You shouldn’t make things too difficult for them. Let’s just go directly to Deepwater City and have Duke Joshua prepare a carriage for us.”

Victor shook his head repeatedly. “It’s a thirty-nine-day journey from Flashthunder Town to Deepwater City. With that broken-down carriage, I’m worried it will fall apart midway… I can’t bear to let you and our child suffer such a rough ride. Besides, how can a carriage from the Joshua family compare to one made by me? In the future, I want to take you and our child on a tour of the Centaur Hills in it.”

Catherine’s heart sank slightly. She cupped Victor’s face, gave him a long, passionate kiss, and said softly, “Flashthunder Town doesn’t have many resources. Instead of wasting time here, we might as well walk to Deepwater City. I estimate we can get there in ten days.”

“No, no, how could that possibly work?”

Victor shook his head again and again, but Catherine just smiled gently. “How about this? We send a messenger raven and have Deepwater City send a carriage to meet us. We can also have them prepare the carriage parts you need. We’ll head towards them and rendezvous with the carriage. Once we’re in Deepwater City, you can build the new carriage… I don’t want to stay in this little country town for another day. How about it? I’m truly looking forward to the carriage you’re preparing for me and our child.”

“Well, in that case…”

Just as Victor was seriously considering Catherine’s suggestion, Countess Ariel knocked on the door. After receiving a reply, she entered the antechamber and glanced at the two of them clinging to each other, a smile tugging at her lips. “I’m not interrupting, am I?”

“Not at all. Is Catherine’s breakfast ready?” Victor asked, shaking his head.

“Of course.” Ariel nodded, then added, “But I’m here to tell you that Marquess Golan and the Swift Dragon Knights have arrived.”

“So soon?”

Catherine’s eyes lit up. She stood up from Victor’s lap and said, “I’ll go change to welcome His Highness Golan.”

“No.” Victor stood up and placed both hands on Catherine’s shoulders, instructing her, “My love, you don’t need to concern yourself with him. Just eat your breakfast on time and summon him when it’s convenient. Believe me, I’ll handle it.”

With that, Victor grabbed his coat, pushed open the door, and clattered down the stairs, shouting to an attendant, “Is My Lady’s breakfast ready? Take me to see it first.”

Catherine and Ariel stared at each other, then couldn’t help but burst into laughter, shaking like flower branches in the wind. After a moment, Ariel mouthed silently, “His Highness Randell is as excited as a child.”

The Randell family’s convoy had departed from Cogston City months ago, taking a detour through the Dodor Kingdom to return to Gambis early. By now, Elina and the others should have reached Redleaf Town, which bordered the Centaur Hills. Catherine had selected an elite force to travel to the Dekeizer Earldom and rendezvous with Victor. After Victor killed Windfang and ascended to the Legendary realm, Catherine stayed with him, living in seclusion in a mountain cabin while he focused on his training.

Once Victor had finished modifying his Forging and Sundering Methods, he bid farewell to King Rex and the Sacred Warrior Dimat, leading his party on foot from the western mountains of the Dekeizer Earldom back to Gambis.

Along the way, Catherine discovered she was pregnant, a fact she had initially intended to keep from Victor. But Victor detected the baby’s heartbeat and immediately slipped into the role of a husband and father-to-be. He was overjoyed but also became a bundle of nerves, constantly fussing over Catherine, attending to her every need personally. For a small stream four meters wide, which Catherine could have crossed in a single step, he insisted on ordering his secret knights to build a wooden bridge, as if he had forgotten that Catherine was a Great Knight whose Aura was fully functional again.

When they arrived at Flashthunder Town on the northeastern border of Gambis, Victor’s behavior became even more exaggerated. He complained that the local lord’s carriage was shabby and cramped, declared that a pregnant woman could not ride a horse or travel far on foot, and demanded that the town prepare materials for a new carriage, intending to personally build a luxurious one for Catherine. He would also talk to the baby in Catherine’s belly and, in his capacity as a great scholar of the Silver Spire, give this willfully foolish behavior a scholarly name—prenatal education?

A willful child could be placated with a jar of honey, or a couple of spankings if that failed. But a willful Highness… that was a much bigger problem.

The Legendary Highness’s authority and powerful spirit began to influence everyone below the rank of Silver Knight. Even Father Dayn thought Victor’s anxiety was not without reason. He personally inspected Catherine’s meals every day and would ask every few days if she was feeling uncomfortable anywhere and if she needed divine arts for healing.

And so, with a Legendary Highness and a High-ranked Priest acting this way, the entire town of Flashthunder was mobilized, bustling about for Her Majesty Catherine. And Catherine, it seemed, was thoroughly enjoying it. At this point, anyone who dared to voice an objection would have become a public enemy.

Ariel watched all this with growing anxiety. She believed Victor had grown so fretful because he realized he would soon have to part with Catherine.

If Victor tried to spirit Catherine away to the Centaur Hills, the problem would become extremely serious. Ariel had sent a secret letter to Aerie Fortress, which responded with lightning speed. Marquess Golan led an elite detachment of the Swift Dragon Knights and rushed over through the night.

Ariel breathed a sigh of relief, but she still felt she needed to give Catherine a little reminder: she absolutely could not go with Victor to the Centaur Hills.

Catherine smiled faintly and sat back down on the sofa, using lip-reading to reply, “My dear Ariel, I admit I am thoroughly enjoying Victor’s meticulous care and affection, but I haven’t lost my reason as a Silver Knight over it.”

“I know what I’m doing… Just let us be willful for a while.”

Ariel’s lips moved, but when she caught sight of Catherine’s emerald eyes, as bright and clear as mirrors, she just smiled sweetly and said, “Your Majesty, allow me to help you change.”

Outside the town, Marquess Golan saw a tall, slender figure walking alone to meet him. The man had black hair, a handsome face, and unusual dark gold eyes. His build was well-proportioned, and his stride carried two completely different qualities: nimble agility and steady power.

Compared to the soft beauty of a Moon Elf, he now has a more masculine air and is already beginning to transform into a Sun Elf… Marquess Golan nodded to himself, dismounted from his swift dragon, adjusted his cape, and removed his helmet, preparing to exchange formal greetings with His Highness Randell.

Victor walked straight past Marquess Golan, scanned the Swift Dragon Knights behind him, then turned back to Golan and asked:

“Where’s the carriage?”

The hand Golan had raised fell back to his side. He was completely baffled. “What carriage?”

His Highness Randell pointed at the six-legged Swift Dragons and demanded furiously, “What carriage?! Are you planning to have Catherine travel on such an ugly beast?”

The Swift Dragon Knights, on a forced march, naturally hadn’t brought a carriage. Without a carriage, Victor, of course, refused to set out. Marquess Golan and his thirty Swift Dragon Knights had no choice but to remain in Flashthunder Town and help Victor build a carriage.

Fifteen days later, Victor and Catherine finally departed. Upon receiving an urgent report from the lord of Flashthunder Town, Duke Joshua of Deepwater City had hastily dispatched a luxurious carriage, personally escorted by his Family Guardian, to meet the Queen Mother of Gambis.

After seeing His Highness Randell and Her Majesty Catherine off, the lord of Flashthunder Town was so emotional that tears nearly streamed down his face.

Although Victor had been generous and brought a small fortune to Flashthunder Town, the pressure it had been under was immense.

When the convoy arrived in Deepwater City, the Joshua family held a grand evening banquet to welcome His Highness Randell, His Highness Golan, and Her Majesty Catherine. Victor, however, was less than enthusiastic. He complained that the Joshua family’s carriage was uncomfortable and insisted on personally building a new one for their long journey.

As a result, the Swift Dragon Knights had to put up with Victor’s antics for another ten-odd days. Only after the carriage was built did they finally set off on their journey back to Blinor.

The closer the party got to the Royal Capital of Gambis, the worse His Highness Randell’s temper became. He would often argue with Marquess Golan over the most trivial matters. Fortunately, whenever Catherine intervened, she could always calm Victor down. But the atmosphere in the convoy still grew heavier by the day.

On this day, the convoy reached a major town east of the capital. At Marquess Golan’s repeated invitation, Victor was finally coaxed out of the carriage. The two of them rode their Swift Dragons, ambling at the very front of the column.

“This is the most fertile land in the Brinol Plains.”

Marquess Golan pointed to the endless green wheat fields beside the road and said, “It has farmland, lakes, rivers, forests, and pastures, with a total area of fourteen thousand square kilometers. In the future, this will be Grand Duchess Catherine’s fiefdom.”

Victor replied distractedly, “It’s a little small for a duchy.”

Marquess Golan chuckled. “Heh, since the Auguste family first developed the Three Forks River basin, the central Brinol Plains have been under the direct control of the House of Auguste. The Grand Dukes of Aerie Fortress through the generations have never had their own fiefs. Their descendants either marry into external kingdoms or are absorbed into the great lord families of Gambis. As for the Grand Duchess of Aerie Fortress, that is merely an honorific title; it’s even more impossible for one to have a fief.”

“In fact, most queens do not outlive their kings. A Grand Duchess of Aerie Fortress like Catherine, while rare, is not unheard of. Their bloodlines and origins were much nobler than Catherine’s, yet they did not receive her treatment.”

“Aerie Fortress has paid a great price to maintain the noble bloodline of the Auguste family. Many outstanding Auguste scions have spent their entire lives with nothing more than the title of Court Earl. This fief is worthy of your and Catherine’s child. He or she will inherit Catherine’s ducal title, and after three generations, can ascend to Aerie Fortress and become the Emperor of the Gambis Empire.”

Victor was silent for a few seconds before saying, “The future is the future. All I know is that a child needs his father’s companionship. Your Highness is a father yourself; you should be able to understand my feelings.”

Golan nodded. “What do you propose?”

Victor’s spirits lifted. “I want to invite Catherine to Silver Moon Manor. It won’t be too late for her to return to Aerie Fortress after the child turns eight.”

Golan glanced at him, then turned his head to look straight ahead, asking faintly, “Will she and the child be able to return?”

Victor nodded. “I promise I will respect Catherine’s choice.”

“Then do you respect Sylvia’s choice? I believe Catherine can come back, but I don’t believe her child will be able to.”

Victor was at a loss for words, but said stubbornly, “I will do my best to persuade Sylvia to respect Catherine’s wishes.”

Golan shook his head and sighed. “I’m not worried about Her Highness Sylvia, I’m worried about you, Your Highness Randell… Your thinking is quite terrifying. Catherine is your lover and the mother of your child. She is weaker than you, so she should bend to your arrangements. By your logic, Sylvia is stronger than you. If she decides to keep Catherine’s child, you would be powerless to refuse. Sylvia would have originally abided by the partner principles of a Knight, but she would also take advantage of the situation… Is that fair to Catherine?”

“I must remind Your Highness, a lover is not a vassal, and Catherine is not your breeding tool!”

Rage flared in Victor, his eyes turning a pure gold. After using X-3 to control his emotions, he said coldly, “I just want to fulfill my duties as a father! It seems to me that Aerie Fortress is the one treating Catherine as a tool for procreation.”

“Fine! I admit it.”

“You… you old bastard.”

Marquess Golan turned his head and looked Victor straight in the eye, a smile on his face. “Roland used to call me that too… Catherine never did. She never thought I was a bastard… I’m not so sure about you, though. I can give you an opportunity to prove that I’m the bastard, and you are not.”

“I will resign from my position as Minister of Military Affairs. You can take my place. You can live permanently in Blinor City, accompanying Catherine and your child, fulfilling your duties as a husband and a father. Can you do it?”

Victor’s expression flickered, and for a long time, he couldn’t utter a single word.

Golan shook his head and continued, “Your Highness Randell, we are not mortals. A mortal’s capabilities are limited, so they can only look after their own family. But a Highness only considers their House, their Kingdom. The concept of a small family simply doesn’t exist. If you insist on having your own way, you will only force Catherine to dissolve her partnership with you.”

“Hmph! You don’t get to decide. I’m going back to the carriage.”

Victor leaped down from his mount and started walking back against the flow of the convoy toward Catherine’s carriage. Just then, he heard Marquess Golan call out from behind him:

“Victor, there is someone who you might be willing to talk to.”

Chapter 531: Collaborative Research (Part 1)

At night, the Queen Mother’s convoy stopped at an outpost by the road. On either side of the road lay the royal forest hunting grounds. The silver moonlight illuminated the trees, casting dark shadows that made the entire forest seem shadowy and indistinct, its depths unfathomable.

Marquess Golan led Victor and Caligula through the deep, quiet woods. Along the way, the howls of wolves intertwined with the chirping of insects. The forest seemed normal at night, yet Victor discovered many hidden sentries. Caligula, trailing behind him, looked all around, his gaze lingering on the very spots where the sentries were hidden. He muttered incessantly, “Master, there’s someone there, and over here… over there, there, and here, they’re all watching us.”

Marquess Golan stopped and glanced back at Caligula, who was built like a giant, and said to Victor, “You really didn’t need to bring Aka with you. I trust his loyalty to you, but I don’t trust his ability to keep a secret.”

The corners of Victor’s mouth turned up in a meaningful smile. “Aka is a miracle,” he said lightly. “Perhaps someone would be delighted to meet him.”

Hearing his master call him a miracle, Aka immediately puffed out his chest, which was thicker than a water bucket, a smug, foolish grin spreading across his face.

Marquess Golan looked slightly surprised. He pondered for a couple of seconds, then nodded and said no more, continuing to lead the way. Before long, the three of them arrived at a clearing where they saw a ranger’s cabin. A dozen or so guards stood outside, among them two of Victor’s acquaintances: one was the Deputy Director of the Household Department, vice-commander of the Glory Knights, and Great Knight, Earl Foster; the other was Conrad, the secret knight who had accompanied Victor to Naville.

Earl Foster led the十几-odd guards forward and took the initiative to salute. “Welcome back to the Kingdom of Gambis, His Highness Randell.”

Victor returned the Knight’s salute, unfastened his two adamantine longswords, and handed them to Earl Foster. He nodded with a smile, “Your Excellency, I have lived in Aerie Fortress since I was a child. Thank you for taking care of me, arranging for me to have a private room and dedicated guards.”

“Your Highness is a natural-born sage; you should understand that none of this was a coincidence.” Foster smiled faintly, taking Victor’s swords. He made an inviting gesture with his hand. “This way, please. The Chief is waiting for you.”

Victor first nodded to Conrad, the secret knight, then said to Caligula, “Aka, you stay outside with Lord Conrad.”

Caligula watched with longing eyes as his master and Marquess Golan walked into the wooden cabin. His puffed-out chest immediately deflated, and he squeezed out an ingratiating smile at Conrad, whom he knew best. The secret knight chuckled and patted Caligula’s elbow. “Aka, let’s stand a bit further away. Don’t eavesdrop on His Highness’s conversation.”

The ranger’s cabin was sparsely furnished. In the center was a long, rough-hewn log table, still covered in bark. On each of the three walls hung two thin wooden planks, which could be laid flat to serve as either benches or beds. Four exquisite palace-issue crystal candle lamps on the table bloomed with light, their soft, steady glow illuminating an old man by the table.

His white hair was sparse, his face a web of wrinkles, and his eyes were murky. There were several coin-sized scars on his slack-skinned face, and the corners of his eyes and mouth drooped severely. A set of magnificent ceremonial robes fit for a baron could not conceal the aura of decay and decrepitude about him. But his hands—his fingers were long and slender, the skin taut and lustrous, like the hands of a young man.

The old man looked up and greeted him with a smile, “Victor, we meet again.”

Seeing the old man’s kind smile and his toothless gums, the image of a Wizard surfaced in Victor’s mind. He hesitated for a moment before sitting down opposite him. “Lord Baron Jeming,” he asked, “the last time we met was at the Blue Amber Inn in Blinor City. At that time, you were a master sculptor being commended by the court. What is your identity this time?”

The old man gazed at Victor’s eyes, which held a dark golden sheen. His smile turned satisfied as he said amiably, “Don’t be nervous, child. From the day you were born until you left Aerie Fortress, we met every year. You just didn’t know it… you were a very deep sleeper.”

Golan sat down beside the old man, placed his hands on the table, and interjected, “Victor, let me introduce you. This is a family retainer invested by the late King Bonelatte, the Chief of The Faceless, Lord Tofwen Auguste.”

Victor took a deep breath and sighed with emotion. “This is an unimaginable favor.”

There were two principles for a liege lord bestowing a surname: one was based not on bloodline, but on merit, like Narsen; the other was based on favor, like Caligula. To gather outstanding talents from all over, the Royal Family had the right to establish a commendation surname. In Gambis, the commendation surname was “Jeming,” and such a surname did not bear the mark of the liege lord’s family.

Bestowing a surname out of favor was not uncommon, but bestowing a family surname upon a Wizard was exceptionally rare.

The Church had always turned a blind eye to great lords keeping Wizards. If one was discovered, the lord simply had to hand over the Wizard and declare he had been deceived, and the Church would not usually pursue the matter. But if a lord bestowed his family name on a Wizard as a sign of favor, it was tantamount to backing the Church into a corner, leaving no room for maneuver.

Out of his affection for Beldina, Victor had originally wanted to grant her his surname to win over Imoson the Wizard. But when he discovered that Bel might also be a Wizard, he immediately dismissed the idea, fearing he would bring disaster upon himself and stir up immense trouble.

He didn’t even know how to describe Roland’s grandfather. For something like this, the Inquisition would only need to cast a few Detect Lie divine arts, and Bonelatte wouldn’t be able to deny it even if he wanted to. He would surely be thrown into the sunless dungeons of the Inquisition.

And Bonelatte didn’t have a Spirit Knight backing him up.

Tofwen, however, suddenly shed tears. “Yes… an unimaginable favor…” he said with a sigh. “Back then, I was just a weak little Wizard… That fellow Bonelatte was especially unreliable. Heh, all the Augustes are the same. They may not be good kings, but they are certainly the best of liege lords.”

“My apologies. When you get old, you tend to reminisce about the past.” Tofwen wiped the corners of his eyes and said with a small smile, “I carry out the will of the late King Bonelatte, having founded The Faceless and served as its Chief to this day… Your Highness Randell, in a sense, you are also a member of The Faceless. Of course, your will is your own, free from any of The Faceless’s constraints.”

Victor picked up on his cue. “I knew nothing of this. If the Chief considers me a member of The Faceless, would you be willing to tell me about your past?”

Tofwen looked surprised at first, then sized Victor up with great interest. He laughed, “Victor, you’re not in a hurry to learn about your own situation, but are instead willing to listen to an old man like me ramble on?”

Victor shrugged. “I have a general idea about my own affairs; the rest is just a matter of confirmation. But the opportunity to speak face-to-face with a Chosen is rare.”

“I am a Wizard, not a Chosen.”

Tofwen corrected Victor, then nodded. “As expected of a natural-born sage. It was my failure not to have noticed your gift for wisdom at the beginning… Since Your Highness wishes to hear my story, I would be delighted to tell it to you.”

The old Wizard began to speak of his life, with Marquess Golan occasionally narrating for him and Victor interjecting with questions. The three of them talked late into the night.

Victor now understood the full story, but his greatest gain was a deeper understanding of Tofwen’s Wizardry talent, his formative experiences, his temperament, and his values. With this, he could formulate his strategy for the negotiations to come.

Tofwen was utterly loyal to the Auguste family, a classic family death commando, but he possessed ability and wisdom far beyond that of an ordinary loyalist. Aside from wholeheartedly supporting the Augustes, his main pleasure in life was delving into the study of Potion-making.

The Auguste family’s Wizard was engrossed in the study of Bloodlines and Potion-making, seeking to understand the mysteries of the world through this Path, and he had already achieved considerable results.

Victor mused for a moment, then said, “My father’s cook was a spy for The Faceless. You used him to administer potions to me. Were my little brother and sister also your test subjects?”

Tofwen shook his head. “Do you know how many resources The Faceless has invested in you? Even if I wanted to continue cultivating nobles with the Moon Elf bloodline, I no longer have that many rare herbs.”

Victor’s face was stern as he said coldly, “You killed my mother. You bear the weight of countless innocent souls.”

“Death row inmates, betrayers, spies—I always use them for my experiments first, before I move on to commoners and Nobles,” Tofwen said slowly. “I am the King’s retainer, a Partisan of Order. I have done everything I could. Even if innocents died because of me, I feel no shame… To gain power, one must always pay a price. That is all.”

Victor nodded and smiled. “A Partisan of Order… Very well. We have a basis for further discussion.”

Tofwen and Marquess Golan exchanged a look. The Marquess asked, “Victor, would you allow the Master Tofwen to hold your hand?”

Victor was immediately in a difficult position. The Rune Crystal was hidden inside his body; it would be disastrous if Tofwen sensed it. He thought for a moment, then looked up and said, “Will my blood do?”

Tofwen chuckled. “That would be for the best.”

Marquess Golan tossed him an adamantine dagger. Victor used it to prick his finger, squeezed out a drop of blood, and let it fall into the palm of Tofwen’s hand.

The old Wizard closed his eyes and sensed it carefully for a long time before murmuring, “Strange… Does the Sun Elf have such a form?”

Victor blinked. “How is it? Is there a problem with my Bloodline?”

Tofwen opened his cloudy, yellowed eyes and smiled. “Victor, it seems I’ll have to carve a new statue of you… Your Bloodline is a Gold Bloodline, there’s no doubt about that. You will have golden hair and golden eyes in the future. It’s just that your human bloodline has completely vanished…”

At this, Marquess Golan grew tense. He frowned and asked, “What is the effect of that?”

Tofwen shook his head. “The last time I tested Victor’s Bloodline, I saw its ultimate form: golden hair and eyes, a height of two meters, long pointed ears, affinity for the three elements of fire, wind, and water, and a lifespan of over 450 years—a perfect Sun Elf. But this time, his height and ears will not change. He has affinity for the four elements of earth, fire, wind, and water, with his wind element affinity being twice as high as before, but he can no longer draw on the fire element from the void… and his maximum lifespan is only 200 years.”

“Logically speaking, the human bloodline should have nurtured the Sun Elf bloodline until it fully stabilized… Why would the human bloodline disappear?”

The old wizard fell into deep thought, but Marquess Golan interrupted his train of thought. “Can Sylvia and Victor have children?”

Tofwen was startled back to the present. “I’m not sure…” he said with some difficulty. “I cannot be certain. This matter is very troublesome.” He looked up at Victor. “Your Highness, your human bloodline has vanished. This means that whether your Bloodline reaches its peak or degrades, you will only be able to have children with a Gold Knight, because your current Bloodline is the starting point. Any degradation will still result in a Gold Bloodline. However, I can help you have children with a silver female knight.”

Victor asked coolly, “What are your conditions?”

Marquess Golan rubbed his brow. “A male Gold Knight can have at most four children, while a female Gold Knight can only give birth once. But Empress Baselius gave birth to a set of twins. This is explainable; a Spirit Knight’s control over their own body surpasses that of a Gold Knight. Verodica was originally only one point seven eight meters tall. After marrying Draven, she grew to one point nine eight meters in a month, whereas Draven’s Gold Knight lover took several years to adjust her height. Hasn’t Sylvia also become younger? We believe that Sylvia can also have a set of twins with you, as long as she is willing.”

“The Iron Mountain Empire’s imperial family has survived to this day because of the Spirit Knight bloodline. But in the later stages of the Iron Mountain Empire, the four great families of the Queen’s family engaged in endless scheming and mutual slander to compete for the imperial bloodline. This led to a sharp increase in the Empire’s internal strife, which was the fundamental reason for its collapse. Gambis cannot repeat the same mistake. We hope that the royal family and the Queen’s family of Gambis will exchange bloodlines, to jointly maintain the stability of the Empire. This requires Sylvia to give up one child. Otherwise, the political balance between the royal family and the Queen’s family will be lost. When the bloodlines of both sides deflect, the Empire will head toward schism. I imagine His Highness Randell does not wish to see his descendants slaughter one another, correct?”

Victor was dumbfounded. He was stunned for a long time before crying out, “Something this important, and you still haven’t reached an agreement with Sylvia?”

“We have spoken with her. She did not give a clear answer.” Golan shook his head, his expression heavy. “We were convinced that you could make her give her promise. However, we did not expect your Sun Elf bloodline to mutate.”

Victor’s thoughts turned, and he sneered, “If Sylvia and I have no children, then there’s no problem at all. If we do have children, you hope that I will persuade Sylvia to give one child to Aerie Fortress to maintain the balance between the royal bloodline and the bloodline of the Queen’s family?”

“That is correct,” Marquess Golan admitted.

“Alright,” Victor said. “I can tell you this for certain: Sylvia and I will definitely have children.”

The old Wizard asked with a faint smile, “Why is Your Highness so certain?”

Why am I so certain? Esteemed master Miller said Sylvia and I would have children. How could I not be certain?

Victor pointed at his own nose. “Do you know why my human bloodline vanished? I made it vanish. To be precise, I merged my human bloodline into the Sun Elf bloodline. My understanding of my own Bloodline is beyond your imagination.”

Marquess Golan pondered for a moment before speaking. “Your Highness, this is no small matter. Do you have any proof?”

“Of course I have proof.” Victor nodded, then changed the subject. “The question is, what will you use to persuade Sylvia and me to give up a child?”

Tofwen gave Victor a long, deep look and said slowly, “We don’t need to persuade Her Highness Sylvia. The question is, what do you want Gambis to become? Can’t we just do as you say?”

The concept of a balanced royal family and Queen’s family was already the most ideal political structure for Gambis. The House of Randell didn’t even have an heir; there weren’t any new tricks they could play. Tofwen saw through Victor’s bluff and deliberately threw the question back at him.

Victor coughed in embarrassment and spread his hands. “You have to at least give me something to convince Sylvia with, right?”

“Heh, what does Your Highness wish to get from an old man like me?”

Victor sat up straight, his eyes gleaming. “First, tell me the secrets of the human bloodline. Then we can talk about cooperation.”

Chapter 532: Collaborative Research (Part 2)

Tofwen was silent, and the room was still for a moment. The candlelight flickered within the crystal lamp shade. After a long while, the old Wizard spoke in a weary tone, “I am too old. My life is nearing its end. I no longer have the strength to cultivate a knight’s bloodline.”

Victor smiled and said in a relaxed tone, “Your Excellency Auguste also knows that you yourselves are the greatest source of imbalance. While you are making arrangements for the Gambis Empire hundreds of years from now, Sylvia is currently troubled by the political balance of the royal family and the queen’s family. Since the royal family already holds an absolute advantage, you should take the initiative and show your sincerity. Prove to Sylvia that you truly support the political vision for the royal family and the queen’s family, and aren’t just deliberately trying to lull the Centaur Hills into a false sense of security.”

“Sincerity means the most crucial magical potion formula.”

The Auguste family possessed deep resources and heritage, with high-ranked Knights emerging one after another. Under their command were three Dukes and four Marquesses. Their influence was several times greater than that of the York family. The southern expansion strategy was the foundation for cooperation between Goldwater City and Aerie Fortress for the next century, while the concept of the royal family and the queen’s family was the political foundation for the Gambis Empire to last for a millennium. However, given the vast disparity in power, Sylvia would never be naive enough to believe the grand promises painted by Aerie Fortress. After all, the York family had been suppressed by the Augustes for so long; the animosity between them could not be so easily dispelled.

Sylvia was proceeding at her own pace, carrying out the York family’s established strategy. First, to enhance the York family bloodline; second, to feign submission to the Augustes; and third, to rely on the power of the Gambis Kingdom and use her status as part of the queen’s family to claim territory on a map in the Southern Continent.

In short, the York family intended to leech off the Augustes, strengthening their own power, and would absolutely not entrust their family’s future to the political vision of the royal and queen’s families.

Even if Aerie Fortress was full of sincerity now, who could guarantee that Aerie Fortress would remain unchanged several hundred years later?

Strengthening oneself was the only hard truth for a family’s development.

Marquess Goron was not worried about Sylvia’s plans. If the Augustes needed to rely on suppressing their lords’ development to maintain their superior position, it would only mean that the family was already in decline. On what basis could they then establish a great empire?

Aerie Fortress held the authority of the liege lord. By implementing the same policies as the Centaur Hills, as the York family grew stronger, the Auguste family would only become even more powerful than them.

Of course, the Spirit Knight’s bloodline would threaten the Auguste family’s position as liege lord, but Sylvia and Victor did not even have a child. How could the Spirit Knight’s bloodline have any influence? Meanwhile, Aerie Fortress already possessed the Gold Bloodline. It was as if the Augustes were about to reach the finish line, while the York family had only just begun.

Leave the future to future generations. Aerie Fortress’s advantage was so obvious; if the descendants of Auguste still lost to the York family, then Goron would have nothing more to say.

What worried him most right now was the next protector of the Centaur Hills—His Highness Randell—extending his reach to the noble families of the kingdom’s Southern Realm.

Spirit Knights had limited lifespans. Victor, as Sylvia’s partner and a Legendary-rank Highness, would inevitably be the York family’s next Guardian. If he were to bring the disorderly mob of southern lord families under his command and control all the ports on the North Shore of the Goldwater River in Gambis, Aerie Fortress would have no choice but to go to war.

Because if Victor controlled the ports of the Goldwater River, he could decide how many soldiers and supplies each family could transport to the Southern Continent. If Aerie Fortress took no action, it wouldn’t be long before the three great Dukes might defect to the Centaur Hills.

This was not a matter of winning at the finish line, but of being tripped right before it.

To ensure the royal family maintained control over the ports and fleet, Aerie Fortress had taken many measures, including driving away Lady Judy and stationing troops in Wildwillow City, as well as removing apprentice knights from the Sorim family to support the Chapman family’s entry into Copper City. If the old Marquess Sorim couldn’t advance to Gold Knight within eight years and return to Gambis, Aerie Fortress would find a way to replace the Chapman family’s territory.

All of this was done behind Victor’s back. To enhance her family’s bloodline, Sylvia chose to endure it. But neither Tofwen nor Goron had expected Victor to advance so quickly. Aerie Fortress still needed another five years to install the Chapman family in Copper City and achieve control over the situation in the kingdom’s Southern Realm. With Victor’s promotion to Legendary-rank, the Chapman family was now too close to His Highness Randell and too far from Aerie Fortress; any choice they made would not be surprising. Unless… His Highness Randell fully supported the political marriage alliance of the royal and queen’s families.

This meeting was, in fact, Aerie Fortress’s attempt to sound out the next Guardian of the Centaur Hills.

Hearing Victor’s words, both Tofwen and Goron realized that His Highness Randell had seen through to the heart of the matter. The strategy of emotional appeal and gentle persuasion had already failed.

Marquess Goron interjected, “Your Highness said yourself that the Augustes hold the advantage. If we had a magical potion formula, how could we not present it to demonstrate our sincerity?”

Victor raised an eyebrow, his gaze turning to the old Wizard.

Tofwen shook his head with a bitter smile and said slowly, “His Highness Randell, I don’t even have the ability to manifest Wizardry runes. By the standard of Wizardry altering reality, I can’t even be called a Wizard. How could I possibly have a magical potion formula?” He paused, then raised his voice and continued, “The Chosen’s method of making magical potions has long been lost, but a potion must be able to change reality to be called a magical potion, for instance, turning the person who drinks it into a monster. The Church’s Dragon’s Vein Potion is the closest thing to a magical potion, yet it still requires divine arts to restore a person’s completely shattered muscles and bones.”

“My talent in Wizardry is merely to investigate changes in the human bloodline and understand the properties of medicines, making me the most useless kind of Wizard. I only mastered the method of cultivating a knight’s bloodline after long study and repeated experiments. Every knight’s bloodline is different, which requires me to track their bloodline changes over a long period and constantly adjust the potion formula to ensure their promotion to Silver-rank. It took me a full sixteen years to cultivate the Moon Elf bloodline… Do you think, with my current lifespan, I have the vigor to cultivate another Silver Knight? My ability to cultivate a knight’s bloodline cannot be replicated. When I die, how could there be an imbalance between Aerie Fortress and the Centaur Hills? Besides, doesn’t the York family have a Wizard? Even if they don’t have one now, will the future queen’s family of Gambis not have a Wizard?”

Victor nodded and said, “Master Tofwen, please let me be the judge of whether Aerie Fortress has a magical potion formula. All you need to do is talk to me about your knowledge of the human bloodline.”

Tofwen thought for a moment, then nodded. “Then let’s talk about my understanding of the human bloodline… In my eyes, the human bloodline is highly inclusive. It can accommodate the bloodlines of elves, barbarians, and even Gnolls and Ogres…”

“Wait, wait!”

Victor was startled and raised a hand to stop the old Wizard. He asked cautiously, “Master, there is real evidence that the human bloodline can accommodate elven and barbarian bloodlines, but accommodating Gnolls and Ogres… isn’t that a bit too frightening?”

Tofwen shook his head and smiled. “The accommodation I speak of isn’t procreation, but that the human bloodline inherently carries the traits of many monstrous bloodlines. They usually remain hidden and need to be briefly activated through potions. A berserk potion works by first causing self-harm to stimulate great power, which is identical to the principle of an Ogre’s berserk state. The effect of a Bloodboil Potion is also the same as a Gnoll’s Bloodlust. These are enough to prove that the human bloodline contains many bloodline talents.”

Victor’s eyes flickered, and he nodded. “Master Tofwen, please continue.”

“Because of its inclusiveness, the human bloodline is complex and varied,” the old Wizard continued. “I have seen hundreds of variations in the human bloodline. The ability to carry the void element is one of these variations, which is the knight’s bloodline.”

“The human bloodline is complex and varied, so it has great plasticity. The principle of shaping it is to purify one aspect and let the others lie dormant. High-ranked Knights purify their bloodline through the void element, while I use potions to purify the bloodlines of Knights and Moon Elves.”

Marquess Goron interjected with an explanation, “Victor, a Gold Knight purifies his knight’s bloodline and passes it down to his children. After four or five generations of procreation, the mixed elements in his descendants’ bloodlines begin to awaken. Master Tofwen uses potions to keep those mixed bloodlines dormant and purify the knight’s bloodline. This is why the Augustes have produced so many high-ranked Knights in recent decades.”

Tofwen nodded and continued, “The shaping principle of purification and dormancy reveals the stability of the human bloodline. It’s like water in a basin: if one side is high, the other side will be low, but it’s ultimately contained within the same basin. No matter how you adjust and change the human bloodline, it remains human… The Moon Elf bloodline is an exception. Sword Saint Draven eventually became an elf. That’s why I believe that by making the Moon Elf bloodline draw strength from the dormant human bloodline, I can cultivate a Sun Elf.”

“However, the human bloodline is complex and varied, so the Sun Elf bloodline is not necessarily singular. It’s clear that you have walked a different path from Draven.”

“The bloodline has hundreds of variations. To purify one and make hundreds of others lie dormant… how could I possibly achieve such complex control with a single magical potion formula? In fact, I have to constantly adjust the potion formulas to achieve bloodline purification and dormancy.”

Tofwen looked up, glanced at Victor, and asked with a playful smile, “Can Your Highness also see bloodlines? I wonder, in your eyes, what do bloodlines look like?”

Victor thought for a moment and answered truthfully, “I see two different colors, red and dark gold.”

“Heh heh… Being able to see the color of bloodlines is quite remarkable,” the old Wizard said with a reserved nod.

Victor had previously claimed he could see bloodlines and had even integrated the human bloodline into the elven bloodline, both of which Tofwen found utterly unbelievable. His current claim that the human bloodline was red and the Sun Elf bloodline was dark gold only strengthened Tofwen’s conviction.

A bloodline wasn’t blood; how could something that couldn’t be observed with the naked eye have color? It was utter nonsense!

His Highness Randell was boasting like a child, but Tofwen, being over a hundred years old, had no intention of exposing him… After all, he had watched him grow up.

“Inclusiveness leads to diversity, diversity leads to plasticity, and plasticity is possible because of stability… a very self-consistent theory.” Victor nodded in admiration. Tofwen’s research on the human bloodline was profound, earning Victor’s respect and providing him with great insight.

Victor explored the world’s mysteries by setting up a hypothesis, carefully building upon it, and meticulously testing it to separate fact from fiction. Tofwen’s research on the human bloodline filled in a piece of the puzzle for him and overturned one of his hypotheses.

He had initially assumed that the Creator evolved the Ancestral Gods, who then propagated the lineage-based races, and that humans also had their own Ancestral God. But Tofwen’s description of the complexity and diversity of the human bloodline seemed to point to another possibility—that all intelligent races originated from a single ancestor.

This corroborated what the Old Ogre had said more than seven years ago. At the time, it had told Edwen: We have a common ancestor.

Master Edwin had stated that the Old Ogre possessed a bloodline legacy that granted it ancient knowledge and had asked Bruce to capture it alive. In the end, Nicole had slaughtered it, and Edwen had been quite torn up about it for a long time.

Thinking back on it now, Victor also found it a great pity. The old Wizard did not have much time left, so he could not let this opportunity slip away.

He decided to drop a bombshell to get Tofwen’s attention, knocking on the table and saying, “I need to call my retainer in.”

Tofwen nodded in agreement. Marquess Goron rose and left the cabin, returning shortly after with Caligula.

“Aka, put your hand on the table and let this lord feel it,” Victor instructed.

“Oh.”

Aka obediently placed his hand, twice the size of a normal person’s, on the table. He blinked, looking at the unbelievably old man with a face full of curiosity. Tofwen pressed down on the back of Caligula’s hand, then rubbed it vigorously a few times, his sparse white eyebrows knitting together. Only after a good while did he withdraw his hand.

Victor nodded at his retainer and waved a hand. “You may leave. Stay far from the cabin.”

Caligula, as if granted a pardon, bowed his head, hunched his shoulders, and slipped out of the wooden cabin with a fluid and swift motion. Marquess Goron couldn’t help but give him a second look, thinking to himself: Even a Knight is no better than that, and yet he has such a large frame…

“Incredible… incredible… Even if a human grows tall, how can he possess the strength and physique of a barbarian?” the old Wizard said, his face filled with shock. He turned to Goron. “In terms of pure strength and stamina, he’s only a little weaker than you. He has already surpassed the limits of a Ferocious warrior.”

Goron was visibly moved. He looked at Victor and asked, “Your Highness, Caligula, he…”

“Don’t be hasty,” Victor said with a slight smile, then asked Tofwen, “Master, can a human become a barbarian?”

The old Wizard thought carefully before shaking his head with a sigh. “I cannot do it… A magical potion that changes reality might be able to.”

“Magical potions are related to a Wizard’s ability to alter reality. So, can a Wizard turn an apple into a piece of meat?”

“Of course. The talents of Wizards are weird and wonderful. A form of Wizardry that turns an apple into meat could very well exist,” Master Tofwen said with a nod.

“I can also turn an apple into meat.” Under the astonished and suspicious gazes of the two Augustes, Victor added, “Anyone can do it… by feeding the apple to a pig.”

Tofwen and Goron were momentarily dumbfounded. The Gold Knight was the first to react, frowning as he asked, “Victor, what are you trying to say? Are you showing off your wisdom?”

“Your Excellency, do you believe the Elemental Sea has a consciousness?”

Goron shook his head with great certainty. “It has no consciousness.”

“But in my view, we are the consciousness of the Elemental Sea! Every person, every creature, every soul is the consciousness of the origin of the world!”

The two giants of the Auguste family looked at each other. Tofwen’s gaze was profound as he said, “Your Highness, what you are saying is very abstruse. We are having a little trouble following your line of thought. Please, continue to elaborate on your views.”

Why can’t you just cooperate with a shocked expression… Victor complained internally, then continued:

“The origin of the world constitutes the countless Laws of the real world. A Wizard can use these Laws to change reality, and so can we. The only difference is in the process, but the will, the principle, and the result have no fundamental difference. They are all applications of the world’s Laws. And we ourselves are a reflection of the world—the mind is the sovereign, the bloodline is the Law… we can change the law of the bloodline as well.”

Tofwen fell into deep thought. The pupils of Marquess Goron’s eyes turned a pure, earthy yellow, and his voice deepened.

“You have mastered the secret art of the mind from the Church!”

“No, I have created the Mind Bloodline secret art,” Victor said faintly. “Caligula became so strong by practicing my Mind Bloodline secret art. I also relied on the Mind Bloodline secret art to achieve the integration of human and elven bloodlines. This is the evidence I offer you.”

Marquess Goron was silent for a moment before he couldn’t help but ask, “How did you do it?”

A faint smile appeared on Victor’s face as he nodded. “It’s fine to tell you. Narsen created a set of Stance practice suitable only for Ferocious warriors. Tournans modified it. Building on their foundation, I added a method of meditation. With the mind as the sovereign, the body as the world, and the bloodline as the Law, I simulated the world on the brink of destruction, with the sovereign mobilizing the Laws… And then, I saw the withered human bloodline and the vibrant elven bloodline.”

Marquess Goron uttered, word by word, the secret art acknowledged by all Knights:

“Trial! Of! Life! And! Death!”

“It’s more advanced, and it’s effective for ordinary people as well. Narsen’s strength has also improved immensely, and he even designed the War Bear and Berserk Ape secret arts,” Victor said.

“Using Caligula as an example, I call them Mind Warriors!”

“Mind Warriors… warriors comparable to Knights?” Marquess Goron’s expression finally turned complex. He said with a bitter tone, “The tenant system was designed for this new force… Everyone was guessing Your Highness’s objective. It turns out you are creating a new era.”

Victor smiled. “Sylvia doesn’t know yet. You two are the only ones, besides Narsen, who know this secret at the same time.”

Marquess Goron’s mood instantly lifted. He said with a laugh, “Victor, your Mind Bloodline secret art allows Knights to simulate the process of the Trial of Life and Death. Its significance is immense and its impact far-reaching. On behalf of all Knights, I express my highest respect to you.” As he spoke, he stood up and performed a solemn Knight’s salute. He then added, “But the Mind Bloodline secret art is not suitable for more people to know about at this time…”

Tofwen interjected, “Your Highness must have a use for me. Please speak directly. I will stake my old life to get it done for Your Highness.”

“The Master’s insight is like a torch.” Victor first offered a piece of flattery before saying seriously, “The meditation phase of the Mind Bloodline secret art is very difficult. Besides myself, neither Narsen nor Caligula can enter the psychological state of life-and-death Silent Void. I want to research a Spirit potion to help them enter meditation…” After a pause, Victor said with a troubled expression, “That kind of potion only makes people absent-minded and answer any question asked, and then it turns them into idiots… I’ve modified it a few times, but it’s no use. I can only turn to the Master for help.”

“Your Highness was born with an awakened talent for wisdom and could disturb the fire element even during the Wind Walk stage. Your spiritual power is extraordinary. No wonder you can cultivate the Mind Bloodline secret art…” Tofwen nodded and said, “If I research the formula, and we add your Mind Bloodline secret art, even after I die, the Auguste and York families will still be able to cultivate Silver Knights. It’s equivalent to having a magical potion formula… I have no reason to refuse. So, how shall we cooperate?”

“I need all of Your Excellency’s research on the human bloodline and the properties of medicines. When I return to the Centaur Hills, I will send Lord Narsen to Aerie Fortress to teach the Mind Bloodline secret art. When you have developed the Spirit potion, he will bring the formula back to the Centaur Hills. However… absolutely do not use Narsen for experiments!”

“Heh heh, Your Highness can rest assured. Gambis has many vicious death row inmates. I would never test potions on Lord Narsen,” the old Wizard said with a smile.

“I have research drafts stored at home. I will give you my original handwritten manuscripts… Since we are sharing the Gold Potion and the Mind Bloodline secret art, then the imperial political structure of the royal family and the queen’s family will also be our common interest and pursuit.”

Victor agreed, “I completely agree.”

Taking a Day Off

Taking a day off.

There is too much transitional content to write, so I am taking a day off today. I will post two chapters tomorrow.

Chapter 533: A Conversation

In the back garden of the princess’s residence in Aerie Fortress, beneath an ancient tree.

Roland, wearing a multicolored floral wreath and a simple white handmaiden’s dress, sat barefoot on a vine swing, swaying back and forth. Her platinum hair danced in the wind, and the hem of her dress fluttered. The fair-skinned, incomparably beautiful young woman looked like a forest fairy.

“…And that’s what happened.”

Victor stood not far away, his gaze naturally drawn to the fleeting glimpses of spring beneath her swaying skirt. “Your Highness, Neo Wester is no ordinary legendary powerhouse,” he said. “Please, you must take his warning seriously.”

“You think I’ll be no match for him even after I advance to the Legendary-rank?” Roland asked nonchalantly. The swing came back, her skirt rising to her knees and revealing her slender, jade-like calves.

Victor averted his eyes and said with a smile, “There is no creature a Gold Knight cannot kill… but I believe that in a duel between you two, he would have a greater chance of winning.”

“What kind of person is Neo Wester?”

“Powerful, but seemingly not one for scheming. He follows the rules… He’s pure.”

Victor thought for a moment before adding, “That’s the feeling he gives me. Pure. He has enough power to solve problems in the simplest way, like an iron hammer. No matter what’s on the anvil, he just smashes it. Your Highness, Neo Wester said he did not counterattack the late King…”

“Are you saying Ryan had it coming?!”

Roland’s voice shot up. She pressed the tips of her toes to the ground, stopping the swing. Baring her cute little canines, she glared angrily at Victor, like a kitten whose tail had been stepped on.

Victor shrugged and held up his hands. “That’s not what I mean, but Neo Wester truly didn’t counterattack… Nachtigal demanded he use his full strength, yet he adhered to the traditions of a knightly duel. It was because he didn’t submit to Nachtigal’s will that a rift formed between them, which the Radiant Knights exploited. And now, he has formed a secret partnership with Relgarrel’s legitimate daughter…”

“Enough! Are you going to keep droning on and on?” Roland stomped her snow-white foot, pointed at Victor’s nose, and demanded, “Tell me! Whose side are you on?”

Seeing Roland’s pretty eyebrows begin to furrow, Victor quickly said, “I am, of course, on the side of the most beautiful, wisest, bravest, and noblest Tutor Roland.”

Roland’s eyes curved into crescents. Her lips curled, and her chin lifted. Finally beaming with a smile, she then felt that such an expression before her prize student was not dignified enough. She composed herself, clasped her hands behind her back, and began to stroll across the lawn.

“People like Neo Wester are the most insidious… Don’t you dare be fooled by his appearance… Hey, you, catch up.”

Everyone knew that Roland was not to be trifled with when she was in character. Victor slowly followed behind her, playing the role of the student.

“You don’t even know him, and he suddenly appears before you, says he wants to duel, and promises only to defend… What would you think?”

Roland frowned, stopped, and turned to shoot Victor a sideways glance. “Let’s just act it out… You attack me three times. I promise I won’t counterattack. If you can make me take even half a step back, I’ll… I’ll be your lover.”

The princess’s expression was shy, but her eyes held a hidden killing intent. A deep green aura, bone-chilling and heart-freezing, swirled around her small fists. Victor had no doubt that if he was struck by one of those fists, he would have no chance of survival. Although forcing Roland back was not difficult, that was based on the premise that she would keep her promise. It simply wasn’t worth the risk.

“I won’t do it…” Victor raised his hands and said with a wry smile.

“Hmph, you coward.” Roland shot Victor a proud and smug glance, dismissing the void water element from her fists. She began to educate her student, “See? When an honest person suddenly turns on you, it’s easy to get your opponent killed… Neo Wester is just that treacherous.”

Victor gave Roland a sincere attendant’s salute, his expression solemn. “Thank you for your teachings, Tutor.”

“Tsk, tsk, such a good actor… Ha, haha, hahaha.”

Roland’s joy was infectious, and their laughter echoed through the garden, prompting the orioles in the trees to sing in response.

After a moment of laughter, Victor said, “Princess, I just hope you won’t be swayed by hatred. That’s all.”

“Do I look like I’ve been blinded by hatred?” Roland tilted her head, her bright smile returning as she posed the question.

Before Victor could answer, Roland sighed faintly. “After Father died, I led the Glory Knights into Randt Imperial territory and slaughtered the militia of an entire town… In that moment, I crawled out of the mire of hatred. I even felt remorse… My refusal to let Neo Wester go is not just for revenge.”

Roland swept aside her platinum hair and suddenly asked, “Victor, if the two of us joined forces, could we kill Neo Wester?”

It was rare for Roland to speak so seriously, and Victor was taken aback. He replied gravely, “He would die without a doubt.”

“You see, Gambis’s strength far surpasses that of the Randt Imperial territory. I have many ways to get revenge on Neo Wester… as long as I’m willing to pay the price. For example, I could have pursued His Highness Randell long ago…”

Roland sat down sideways on the lawn, curling her long legs. She patted the grass in front of her with a smile. “You sit down, too. Just like when we were little.”

Victor hesitated for a moment before sitting cross-legged opposite Roland. “I’m fixated on Neo Wester because I had a dream,” she continued. “In the dream, my father, Ryan, said to me, ‘Darling, seize this opportunity, and you can advance to the Legendary-rank’… I’m just fulfilling my father’s last wish.”

Roland vividly mimicked King Ryan’s tone and expression, looking both adorable and naive. Victor, however, winced as he asked, “Princess, do Gold Knights even dream?”

“I miss my father, so of course I can dream of him,” Roland said with a pout.

Victor nodded. “That’s your heart’s deepest desire… to see the late King and to advance to the Legendary-rank.”

“It is both my heart’s deepest wish and a revelation to me from the origin of the world,” Roland said faintly, a smile playing on her lips.

Roland’s emerald eyes were like deep pools. A concept from the Golden Cicada Mystic Form surfaced in Victor’s mind:

Cosmic resonance!

His spirit immediately focused, and the dark golden halo in his eyes began to slowly rotate.

Seeing the strange phenomenon in Victor’s eyes, Roland couldn’t help but give a beautiful smile. She said in a tone of an equal, “My father’s fall involves the mysteries of the origin of the world and changes in the physical world. Its influence is extremely far-reaching, and it has intersected with the trajectory of your own destiny… Do you want to know the whole story?”

Victor nodded. “I very much want to know.”

Roland’s exquisite, radiant face took on a thoughtful expression. Her eyes shone with the light of wisdom, and her lively air became tranquil and graceful. After a pause of a few seconds, she spoke slowly.

“There were many incomprehensible coincidences surrounding the late King’s fall. The turn of events was exceedingly complex… A few months ago, when the Church displayed Orogar’s head in Blinor City, I saw the Legendary Centaur’s head and the Paladin, and I understood everything.”

“Over a decade ago, the Radiant Knights discovered that a Legendary-rank Great Khan had appeared among the Black-hoof Centaurs. They had the potential to unite all the centaur tribes on the western side of the wilderness, posing the most fatal threat to the human kingdoms. To nip this danger in the bud, the Radiant Knights had to mobilize the full strength of the Sasan lords. At the time, the three southern kingdoms were intent on retaking the Warton Great Plains to establish a defensive depth. If the Radiant Knights couldn’t first resolve the Sasan Empire’s concerns about their rear, the Sasan lords couldn’t fully cooperate with the Paladins to crusade against the Black-hoof Centaurs.”

“So, the Radiant Knights prompted Nachtigal to ask the Pope to use the Great Divination once. Based on the術, they launched the Battle of Whitewater Fortress with all their might, causing Sylvia’s identity to be exposed prematurely, which triggered the subsequent series of events.”

“The destructive power of a Gold Knight is staggering. A Highness hiding their identity is an act of malice, let alone a Spirit Knight. We did have designs on the Dodor Kingdom back then. According to Ryan and Sylvia’s plan, once Gambis was ready, the allied army of lords would march north to attack the Dodor Kingdom’s weakly defended Southern Realm. Sylvia would then act to capture Dodor’s Gold Knight. In the face of a Spirit Knight, the lords of Dodor would have surrendered at the first sign of trouble, and eventually the Friedrich family would have had no choice but to bow their heads and declare allegiance to Gambis. Once Gambis took the Dodor Kingdom, it could have used trade to compel Naville to join our new Empire.”

“The exposure of the Spirit Knight’s identity shocked all the major powers. The Dodor Kingdom’s main legions moved south, and Naville distanced itself from Gambis, growing closer to the Dodor people. With their concerns to the rear gone, the Sasan Empire could concentrate its forces to deal with the Black-hoof Centaurs.”

“The relationship between Gambis and Dodor took a sharp turn for the worse, and Nachtigal and Neo Wester saw their chance. During their surprise attack on the three eastern provinces, the Dodor army did indeed pin down our main forces. Otherwise, Ryan would not have died!”

Roland turned her head to look at Victor. “A Highness hiding their identity is an act of malice. Neo Wester also hid his identity as a Legendary Knight. He suddenly appeared before Ryan, yet declared he would only defend and not attack. Don’t you find that strange? He isn’t Sylvia. Facing Ryan’s full-powered attacks, wasn’t he afraid of being killed?”

Victor’s brow was tightly furrowed, his mind racing with thoughts. The deeper he considered it, the more bizarre Ryan’s death seemed.

Roland’s question could be compared to a standoff between two people: one holding a sharp broadsword, the other a deadly pistol. The gunman says to the swordsman: “I’ll stand right here and let you slash at me three times. I promise not to shoot. If I take even half a step back, you win!”

In that situation, does the swordsman even need to consider whether the other person is telling the truth? He either kills his opponent in one strike or throws down his sword, kneels, and surrenders.

Of course, a pistol’s destructive power was nowhere near that of a Gold Knight. Both Ryan and Neo Wester had the ability to kill each other. The process of their exchange was simple and clear, but the confrontation on a mental level was extremely complex and incredibly perilous.

“There are many details you don’t know,” Roland said, taking the initiative. “Let me tell you what happened then.”

“Sylvia was standing on the city wall, in a remote standoff with Nachtigal, who was hidden in the shadows. With these two top-tier Knights watching from the side, it influenced both Ryan and Neo Wester.”

“Ryan didn’t know Neo Wester at all. How could he trust his words or his character? He was facing two Highnesses, Neo Wester and Adrian, while Sylvia’s intentions on the city wall were unclear and Nachtigal was hidden. Ryan was surrounded by powerful enemies. Neo Wester’s promise of three attacks without retaliation was arguably his only chance of survival. Therefore, Ryan’s first strike was a probe, leaving strength in reserve for contingencies; the second strike was primarily offensive with a secondary defense, a further probe; only the third was an all-out attack, but it had no effect… So he used an unmastered Transcendent combat skill and ended up having his body and mind corrupted by the Elemental Sea.”

At this, Roland blinked and asked, “After three fruitless attacks, Ryan had already fulfilled his duty as liege lord to the two Earls. Why didn’t he throw down his sword and admit defeat, instead insisting on using a Transcendent combat skill that pushed him beyond his limits?”

“Sigh… Only by forcing Neo Wester back could the late King have conceded.”

Victor sighed and shook his head. “His Majesty Ryan didn’t trust Neo Wester at all. His third strike was an all-out attack, leaving him unable to cope with Neo Wester’s pursuit. He had to force him back first… Most crucially, when the late King saw Neo Wester only defending, he realized Sylvia was locking onto his opponent with her spirit. If he could force Neo Wester back and then concede, he could re-establish trust with Sylvia… and if he could kill Neo Wester in the process, so much the better.”

“Clever.”

Roland nodded with a smile. “The York family was worried Ryan would lead the Swift Dragon Knights and the Unicorn Knights to storm Fanged City, so Sylvia chose to close the gates and watch. For Ryan to concede in front of Sylvia would have been a show of trust in the Spirit Knight… However, your analysis is too rational. I know my father better… He felt he’d been played by Neo Wester and, in his annoyance, wanted to show him what he was made of.”

“Can Gold Knights really be that emotional?” Victor asked, astonished.

“Under normal circumstances, a Gold Knight would certainly not be influenced by their own emotions in battle.” Roland’s eyes gleamed as she said with a light laugh, “But the Great Divination can… At the final moment, Ryan saw the path to the Legendary-rank. Coupled with his inner emotional turmoil, he recklessly unleashed a Transcendent combat skill that broke his limits… All of it was the result guided by the Great Divination.”

“My father died from the backlash of the Great Divination.”

“Backlash? I don’t quite understand…” Victor fell silent for a few seconds, then looked up and asked in confusion, “How does the Princess know the Great Divination’s backlash struck His Majesty Ryan, and not the one who cast it?”

“When I was feeling down after slaughtering the militia of that small town, I glimpsed a part of the Great Divination’s mysteries in a dream. Or you could say, I gained a new understanding of the laws of the world’s origin.” Roland puffed out her chest proudly. “Your Spirit has reached the Legendary-rank, but you haven’t been able to communicate with the Elemental Sea. I can’t explain it clearly to you… You just need to understand that if I can perceive traces of the Great Divination, the perceptions of Neo Wester and Sylvia can only be clearer than mine. But what we saw was different.”

“Neo Wester hid his identity, his hostility was obvious. Even as a Legendary Knight, facing three all-out attacks from Ryan, he was not without risk of death. That’s why Nachtigal told him not to hold back! But Neo Wester sensed traces of the Great Divination, insisted on his own choice, and thus avoided its backlash.”

“When Sylvia saw Nachtigal, the first thing she would have thought of was the Pope’s Great Divination. Only the Great Divination could make her so wary, even to the point of doubting Ryan.”

“Let’s assume Neo Wester had counterattacked and killed Ryan on the spot. Sylvia would have had to take his life to avenge Ryan, lest the York family gain the infamous reputation of failing to save their liege lord. But from a higher perspective, I believe Sylvia sensed the power of the Great Divination and realized that avenging her liege lord would allow her to seize fate’s favor… And Neo Wester made the most accurate choice, giving Sylvia no opportunity to kill him. I believe this was a prompt from the origin of the world to a Legendary Knight.”

“I don’t understand…” Victor said with difficulty.

“The world is in balance, and the future is chaos. When the Great Divination shatters that balance to establish a future, how can there not be a price to pay? The key is, who pays that price?”

Roland explained further, “The Blackhoof tribe was on the rise. The Pope used Great Divination to change the fate of the Black-hoof Centaurs. If his Great Divination had acted directly upon Orogar, he would not have been able to influence the course of destiny at all and would have been killed instantly by the backlash… Therefore, the Church must have a way of casting the Great Divination while avoiding the backlash. The target of the backlash became the human kingdoms as a whole, and Ryan and another Gold Paladin Highness became the sacrifices of the Great Divination. Do you know who he was?”

Victor nodded. “Benedict, the vice-commander of the Radiant Knights and Tournans’s father-in-law. He was killed by Orogar while covering the retreat of the Radiant Knights’ main force.”

Roland hugged her knees, saying morosely, “Both were sacrifices of the Great Divination, but Benedict died like a hero, while my father’s death was so inexplicable… I don’t even know who to take revenge on!”

Victor wanted to comfort Roland but didn’t know where to begin, so he remained silent.

The two of them sat in silence on the lawn. After a moment, Roland spoke again, “How can the Lord of Radiance be compared to the Elemental Sea? When the Great Divination changes the course of destiny, the origin of the world will repair itself. When the backlash struck the Gambis Kingdom, the origin of the world also recoiled.”

“So, the Gambis Kingdom lost King Ryan, and welcomed His Highness Randell.”

Chapter 534: Warning

“If Ryan hadn’t died, where would you be now?”

Roland gazed at Victor’s face, her eyes swirling like a hazy mist, yet seemingly clear as spring water, filled with an indescribable, profound meaning.

Victor was silent for a long moment before letting out a long breath. “If the late King had not fallen, I would not have gone to the Centaur Hills. I would not have met Sylvia, encountered the Gnolls, or awakened my Moon Elf bloodline talent. I certainly wouldn’t have gone to Naville and run into Windfang. And of course, the His Highness Randell of today would not exist.”

Roland smiled and nodded. “We all believe the Elemental Sea has no consciousness, but you’re the only one who says that every life, every soul, is a part of the origin of the world’s consciousness.”

“A pan-consciousness,” Victor corrected.

“Fine, a pan-consciousness.” Roland pursed her lips, then her expression turned animated as she said, “In any case, the origin of the world is alive. He’s like an old grandpa who saw Gambis being bullied by a villain and decided to compensate us. In the end, that benefit fell to you. You’re the old grandpa’s compensation for us, for Gambis.”

Victor couldn’t help but shake his head and laugh. “Your Highness, your analogies are truly unique.”

“Everyone sees things from a different angle, so the conclusions they reach are not always the same. This is especially true for how Gold Knights understand the Elemental Sea. That’s why we can’t share our experiences of roaming the Elemental Sea with Silver Knights, lest we get them killed.”

“In my eyes, all Gold Knights are thieves. They break into the Elemental Sea’s home, dodge all sorts of traps and mechanisms, and steal its power. The owner doesn’t welcome thieves. The slightest mistake, and they’ll be struck down by the owner, their stolen goods confiscated.”

Roland plucked a few blades of evergreen grass and held them in her palm. She manifested a void water element, and a flowing green current corroded the grass to nothingness.

She clapped her small hands together, her eyes sharp and clever. “The old grandpa must really hate people destroying the world He worked so hard to create. The use of the void element by Gold Knights must be limited. Once they exceed that limit, the old grandpa will deal with them… Do you think my theory makes sense, great scholar?”

Victor cleared his throat. “He’s already being generous by not striking you with lightning.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Please, continue.”

Roland huffed, then went on, “The power of the Elemental Sea is vast and boundless. Popes and Pontiffs are but fragile souls, so what tricks can they possibly pull? When they use the Great Divination to disturb the trajectory of the Elemental Sea, one wrong move and they’re dead… The way I see it, them using the Great Divination is like poking the old grandpa’s roof with a wooden pole. If a stone falls from the roof and kills someone, they’re unlucky. If gold from the roof falls into someone’s hands, they’re lucky. But they must never use that pole to poke the old grandpa’s pets directly. Otherwise, the old grandpa will get angry and slap them right across the face, killing them instantly!”

“Ryan was the unlucky one crushed by a stone, and you’re the lucky one who found the gold… But don’t forget, besides the unlucky and the lucky, there are also thieves close to the roof.” Roland pointed to her own nose and said boastfully:

“I’m one of those thieves. When the roof broke, I just happened to be nearby.”

“The old grandpa compensated you, but I don’t need compensation. I can just steal it!”

Victor’s gaze flickered. He inexplicably lowered his voice and asked, “Steal what?”

Roland glanced from side to side, then covered her mouth with a small hand and whispered conspiratorially, “Legendary… The Great Divination disturbed the trajectory of the Elemental Sea, and its fluctuations allowed me to see the path to becoming Legendary… If I make it my goal to surpass Neo Wester, I can ascend to the Legendary realm.”

The two were very close, their posture intimate, their breaths mingling. But Victor felt no romantic inclinations. His mind was entirely consumed by the question of the special connection between the Great Divination and Gold Knights.

Neo Wester had hidden his identity to ambush King Ryan. The malice in such an act was obvious, and he should have been wary of a full-force counterattack from Ryan. A direct, crushing victory would have been the safest approach. Yet, he rejected Nachtigal’s suggestion and insisted on a sparring match with Ryan. This might have been due to his personality, but it was not necessarily unrelated to the Elemental Sea.

Sylvia couldn’t have locked onto Neo Wester for no reason. She had wanted to act but didn’t, precisely because Neo Wester had not killed Ryan.

In the end, Ryan’s rash use of an unmastered combat technique was also aimed at Neo Wester. During her pursuit of Neo Wester, Roland had glimpsed the path to becoming Legendary. From this, she deduced that Ryan must have also seen a breakthrough point, which was why he couldn’t resist taking the risk.

In other words, the Great Divination used Neo Wester as a coordinate and the mysteries of the Elemental Sea as bait to create a backlash of the Force of Destiny. But this process was spontaneous, a result of the divination itself, because the Pope and Pontiff could only give it a single poke; they had no ability to control the countless coincidences and changes that followed.

After some thought, Victor asked, “Your Highness, who are the old grandpa’s pets?”

“Orogar, of course, and Ryan. They were both the old grandpa’s favored. The Pope’s pole poked them directly, so the world’s old grandpa struck him dead in return.” Roland sat up straight and said with a grin, “Sylvia isn’t one of the origin of the world’s favored, she’s his actual daughter. She can never fall out of favor. If the Great Divination dared show any malice toward Sylvia, even the first Pope would be a dead man.”

Victor frowned. “The Legendary Centaur and Gold Knights are both favored by the world’s will. What about Neo Wester?”

“He wasn’t before, but he is now.” Roland wagged a slender index finger. “I believe the world’s favored have nothing to do with race or power, but with fame and influence. Neo Wester wasn’t well-known back then, so it wouldn’t have been surprising if the Pope’s Great Divination had killed him. Conversely, even a common noble lord, if he is famous enough and has sufficient influence, the Pope would have to be very careful about targeting him.”

Victor mused, “According to your point of view, Nachtigal should have understood the drawbacks of the Great Divination. Was he up to no good when he had Neo Wester make a move?”

“That I don’t know.” Roland shook her head. “I only know that a Legendary Knight isn’t easy to control, and Neo Wester doesn’t have Nachtigal’s blood in him.”

She paused, her expression turning serious. “Victor, the Transcendent combat skill you created is nearly indecipherable. I wouldn’t call it invincible, but the number of people who can harm you is pitifully small. However, the Great Divination could kill you without you ever knowing why. If you increase your own fame and influence, it will be much harder for the Church to move against you.”

A thought struck Victor. “Why would the Church want to deal with me?”

“Balance, of course.” Roland pursed her lips. “I heard the Pontiff wants to elevate you to the throne of a Saint, but the other two Patriarchs suppressed the motion. They did it to curb the Pontiff’s growing prestige, of course, but the reason they gave was that His Highness Randell is now a legendary powerhouse, young and hot-blooded, and needs to be observed for a while longer. They said he must perform deeds befitting a legendary powerhouse before he can receive the investiture of a Saint.”

“Alright…”

Roland rose gracefully. Before Victor could stand up, she reached out her small hand and playfully ruffled his hair. “You created the Mind Bloodline secret art, and I revealed the mysteries of the Great Divination,” she said proudly. “Am I a qualified Tutor or not?”

Victor stood up, smiling. “Qualified, of course you’re qualified… you’ve completely stunned me.”

Roland glanced at the height difference between herself and Victor, muttering, “You’ve all grown up, how boring…” Her eyes darted around, and she added with a grin, “When your and Catherine’s child is born, I’ll be sure to teach them well.”

Victor’s face immediately darkened. “If you want to teach my child, first ask that old geezer Goron if he agrees,” he said curtly, then turned and walked out of the garden. “I’m leaving!”

After leaving Roland’s private garden, an attendant from Aerie Fortress led Victor out of the royal palace through the North Gate, which was not normally open. Three carriages were parked by the roadside: two two-wheeled light carriages and a four-wheeled supply wagon. The retinue consisted of a total of eleven people. Aside from two Church attendants, the rest were three secret knights and three Mystic Warriors from Rose Manor, along with Caligula, Reno, and Shak.

Such a procession could only be described as shabby, completely beneath Victor’s current status. When the Rose Knight, Aug, saw Victor approaching, he said cautiously:

“My lord, the steward of the family’s residence in Brinol said that Lady Sylvia wants us to hurry back to Goldwater City. That’s why a larger convoy wasn’t arranged.”

“It’s fine. This is good,” Victor said, patting the Rose Knight on the shoulder as he walked toward the first carriage.

In nine months, the King would hold his wedding celebration, and Victor would have to return to the Royal Capital. If he insisted on a grand procession, the lords along the way would surely hold banquets in his honor, and he might as well not bother returning to the Centaur Hills at all; there simply wouldn’t be enough time. In fact, Victor had only lingered in Aerie Fortress for two days.

Just then, Father Dayn poked his head out of the window of the second carriage and called out, “Victor, want to come chat in my carriage?”

Victor replied in an annoyed tone, “Right now, I just want to be alone.”

Dayn chuckled and ducked back into the carriage. It was understandable that Viscount Randell was in a bad mood, having failed to persuade Catherine to return to the Centaur Hills with him.

Once Victor boarded his carriage and lowered the curtain, Knight Aug gave the order, and the carriages set off, heading down the road into the distance.

Last night, Catherine and Victor had a deep conversation. She had clearly stated that she was unwilling to give up her duchy, hoping Victor would respect her choice. She had also said bluntly that she and the House of Randell could provide mutual support.

Just as Ariel had said, a high-ranking female knight was powerful enough not to need to rely on a man. Even if stranded in the wilderness, she could raise a child on her own. The formidable individual strength of a Knight led to a unique partner relationship in marriage. Moreover, Aerie Fortress had assigned all of Catherine’s confidants to her, including twenty-eight Knights, sixty-one apprentice knights, one hundred twenty Mystic Warriors, and their families and vassals, a force numbering over a thousand people.

Who could so easily give up such a significant force? Even if Catherine went to the Centaur Hills with Victor, how would the House of Randell accommodate all these people?

Pushing thoughts of Catherine and the child in her womb to the back of his mind, Victor began to ponder the matter of the Great Divination.

If the dismantling of the Black-hoof Centaur tribe was the starting point of the Great Divination, then the Battle of Whitewater Fortress was its entry point, triggering the series of events that followed and sweeping Victor himself into its currents.

However, more than eight years ago, the Church’s Great Divination had taken a very clear turn in the Centaur Hills. The Wizard had murdered the little Baron of Wimbledon, Victor had been born into this world, the Alchemy Tower had been activated, and the course of development for the human kingdoms had been altered.

This was enough to show that unknown extraordinary beings had interfered with the trajectory of fate. It was even possible that the Church’s Great Divination had been orchestrated by them.

Roland had warned Victor to be wary of the Great Divination’s influence on him, but she couldn’t have known that he was already deeply entangled, struggling desperately. Still, there was one point of Roland’s that Victor completely agreed with: the greater his own influence, the stronger the protection he received from the origin of the world, and the weaker any artificial interference with his fate would become.

It was like on Earth: while everyone’s form of life was essentially the same, if a small fry met with a disaster, no one cared. But if the head of a nation had an accident, it would immediately create waves, big or small.

According to Victor’s own theory of the mind, this was the act of unifying the Light of the Mind of the masses to wield the authority of a god. Any divination or other ability that could alter fate would surely meet a bad end if it clashed with a Light of the Mind as powerful as a god’s.

Gathering power and unifying the Light of the Mind of the people could be said to be an effective means of defending against spells that manipulated fate. However, once Victor truly reached that level, he would naturally want to uncover the truth behind it all, and ideally, to seize fate’s favor for himself. Ryan, Neo Wester, Nachtigal, Sylvia, and Roland—every Gold Knight affected by the Great Divination had done the same.

Victor could not perceive the changes in the origin of the world as a Gold Knight could, but he could use various signs to make preparations in advance and respond to future changes.

Wherever one walks, traces are left behind. No matter how secretive these extraordinary beings were, as long as they interfered with the physical world, they were bound to leave clues.

I can’t see you, but I know you exist. And I can also figure out what you’re trying to do.

Victor had already dug through his own experiences and historical events about as much as he could. Sifting through them again was unlikely to yield any new discoveries. For the next few days, he carefully reviewed the old wizard’s manuscripts, hoping to borrow from the Wizard’s knowledge to perfect his own worldview and dispel more of the fog.

Tofwen’s notes were complex and varied, but Victor’s most immediate impression was that his understanding and application of the human bloodline had reached an exceptionally high level. According to Tofwen’s view, humans, elves, and Barbarians all stemmed from a common source. The human bloodline was more primitive, while elves and Barbarians had both evolved from it.

What was the reason for this Bloodline evolution? Tofwen had no answer, but Victor noticed the most recent entry in the notes.

While testing the Bloodboil Potion, Tofwen discovered that people who took it multiple times underwent irreversible changes to their Bloodline, and they would pass these changes on to the next generation. The old wizard had classified the Bloodboil Potion as a half-magical potion and warned Aerie Fortress to use it with extreme caution.

Victor placed the scroll back in its box, tapping his fingers on the lid. He thought to himself:

“The Masked Brotherhood again… Just what does the master behind you all really want?”

Chapter 535: Having Each Other

The two-wheeled carriages were light and swift, requiring only a single fine horse to pull them. Though prone to jostling, they required very few supplies. Coupled with the excellent condition of the roads in the Gambis Kingdom and the outposts along the way that provided horse changes and provisions to nobles and clergy, Victor’s convoy traveled 140 kilometers a day. Thirteen days later, they had passed Redleaf Town and arrived at the bank of the Silvermoon River. There, they saw a low bridge of stone and wood construction, a full 12 meters wide, spanning the river, with a large outpost on the opposite side.

A Rose Knight who had been sent ahead to scout galloped back to the convoy and reported to Victor through the carriage window:

“Your Highness, My Lady is leading the lords of the family to welcome you on the other side of the river.”

Victor emerged from the carriage and glanced back at Father Dayn, who was just stepping down from the second carriage. He smiled and said, “Shall we ride across the river?”

“Praise the Supreme Lord, we’re finally home.”

Dayn made the sign of the holy symbol over his chest, walked up to Victor, and looked him over. He eyed Victor’s fine linen shirt, then his own casual clothes, and joked with a half-teasing smile, “Shouldn’t we change into formal attire first? Ah well, how could we let a small matter like changing clothes spoil His Highness Randell’s mood at this moment… Let us ride across the bridge.”

A Rose Knight brought two warhorses from the rear of the convoy. Victor swung into the saddle and was the first to set foot on the bridge. Caligula followed on foot with great strides, while Father Dayn and the Rose Knight kept close behind. Reno and Shak drove the carriages with the Mystic Warriors, bringing up the rear.

As Victor passed through the outpost, the first person he saw was Sylvia, standing by the side of the road. She was dressed in a magnificent queenly gown, her golden hair coiled up and adorned with a purple-gold coronet, which was inlaid with three flawlessly clear fire element crystals. Her azure eyes were as distant and profound as the sky, complementing her impeccably delicate features. She was like an incarnation of perfection, the focus of the world.

Even though His Highness Randell was the main figure of the day, all eyes—those of Trisley, Katerina, Fredrick, Audel, Terlanden, Ulena, Jiris, Harnas, Bruce, Narsen, Nicole, Duke Enbise York, as well as all the lords of the Centaur Hills and nearly a thousand Tusk Cavalry—were fixed on Sylvia.

She walked toward Victor. Father Dayn and Caligula automatically stepped back. With her every step, a strange sensation seized everyone’s hearts, steadily drawing all attention to Victor’s presence. When Sylvia took Victor’s arm, everyone’s gaze converged on him.

In that moment, it was as if the world revolved around him.

“We welcome His Highness Randell’s return to the Centaur Hills!”

As if on a single command, nearly a thousand people bowed and shouted in unison. Narsen and the Randell attendants behind him performed a one-knee kneel. Caligula scratched his head and hurriedly knelt on one knee as well.

Victor gave a slight nod, signaling the Randell attendants to rise. He turned to look at Sylvia, whose eyes were fading from a dim red, and chuckled softly, “My dear, you’ve truly given me a grand surprise.”

“My love, this is the hope of the York family. They wished even more to perform the one-knee kneel for His Highness Randell… And I hope that one day, you can accept it with ease,” Sylvia whispered, turning her face to his ear.

Victor’s gaze froze for a moment before he nodded. “It would be my honor.”

The two exchanged a smile and walked hand-in-hand to where the high-ranked knights stood. Trisley and Nicole each led forth two Woldan purebred horses, handing them the reins. Victor mounted his horse, winked at Trisley and Nicole, and urged his steed forward, riding abreast with Sylvia toward Goldwater City.

Nearly a thousand Tusk Cavalry formed ranks and followed behind the two Highnesses, their lances held high, glinting in the light. The long column, with its fluttering banners and thundering hooves, snaked like a dragon, galloping across the rolling green hills.

Victor rode north along the river until he reached the South Gate of Goldwater City. He and Sylvia were the first to cross the drawbridge and enter the city. The main thoroughfare was packed with welcoming crowds on both sides. They were well-dressed, with rosy complexions and high spirits—all nobles and vassals of the Centaur Hills.

As Victor and Sylvia approached, the crowds lining the street doffed their hats and bowed in greeting, while handmaidens on both sides tossed rose petals at the procession.

Looking at the dense crowd, Victor asked in a low voice, “How many people are here?”

Duke York, who was following behind, spurred his horse forward to a position half a length behind Victor. A sycophantic smile appeared on his chubby, pale face. “Over one hundred and seven thousand subjects of the Centaur Hills welcome Your Highness’s return.”

Victor was taken aback. “You didn’t summon the subjects from every family, did you? Won’t the Centaur Hills be paralyzed?”

“It is their honor to catch a glimpse of Your Highness. The Centaur Hills has implemented the tenant system. Each family only needs to leave a few experienced elders behind to manage the tenant households. The entire Centaur Hills won’t be paralyzed even in ten days or half a month,” Duke York said with a rather boastful air.

Organizing a hundred thousand people for such a magnificent welcoming ceremony was enough to display the York family’s sincerity toward His Highness Randell, and it also proved Enbise’s own competence.

Victor smiled and said no more, riding onward side-by-side with Sylvia. Upon reaching the imposing Black Fortress, he dismounted and extended his arm to help Sylvia to the ground. They walked hand-in-hand into the rear hall of the Black Fortress.

“You are all dismissed. I wish to be alone with His Highness Randell for a while,” Sylvia said, turning to give the order.

The Silver-rank experts and the various lords bowed and took their leave. Nicole, however, pouted and remained where she was, her watery eyes fixed on Victor’s back. She wanted to wait until everyone was gone to secretly follow him, but Trisley grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her out of the rear hall.

Sylvia and Victor ascended the dark, spiral staircase, their steps falling on each stone tread in silence. They climbed slowly upwards, their movements coordinated and synchronous, as if they were one, filled with a sense of ceremony.

Upon reaching the top of the watchtower, Sylvia pushed open the wooden door. Sunlight flooded the stairwell, and the view before Victor opened up dramatically. Standing by the parapet and looking down, he could see the crowded throngs, the bustling streets, the towering cathedral, and the neat rows of houses—the entirety of Goldwater City was laid out before his eyes.

Sylvia came to Victor’s side, and shoulder to shoulder, they gazed at the scenery of Goldwater City. “You’ve seen Lady Dori?” she asked lightly.

“Yes.”

Sylvia smiled faintly and said, “On the eve of her departure from the York family, Lady Dori told me, ‘Sylvia, you are supreme, with no one to stand beside you’… It was a compliment, a taunt, and also the truth… When a high-ranking female knight nurtures a lover, she is also nurturing an heir. But I was the one exception, unless there was a miracle… Over eight years ago, right here in the Black Fortress, the first time I saw you, I knew you were the miracle that belonged to me.”

“Because you have an extraordinary soul.”

Victor turned his head to look into Sylvia’s beautiful, sky-blue eyes and asked with a smile, “How is it extraordinary?”

“I didn’t know what it was called before, but I do now…” Sylvia returned a captivating smile and said softly,

“A unique intellectual talent.”

“I didn’t believe you fell for me at first sight, but I do now…” Victor shook his head with a helpless laugh. “If I were you, I wouldn’t have bothered giving a little Baron fifty thousand Gold Sol to go develop some fief… I would have just ordered someone to forge his signature on a land exchange document, then locked him up in Rose Manor and used him to bargain with Marchioness Wimbledon.”

“My dear, your method of nurturing a lover isn’t very original, you know.”

“You think everyone is like you… with an endless stream of new ideas?” Sylvia rolled her eyes and let out a chuckle, her radiance so brilliant it seemed to outshine the sun. “I never expected you to grow so quickly… It would take two outstanding individuals like Draven and Arya combined to compare to you… Fortunately, I have you.”

Victor lifted Sylvia’s delicate chin and kissed her glistening red lips. At the highest point of the Black Fortress, they embraced in a passionate kiss. After a long while, Victor wrapped his arm around Sylvia’s slender waist and said with a smile, “I thought it was I who had you.”

Sylvia leaned against Victor’s shoulder and nodded gently. “That’s right. The moment I gained you, you gained me as well.”

“For extraordinary people like us, there is no need to actively pursue power, status, wealth, or fame; they always follow,” Sylvia said, gesturing to the crowds below.

“This city, this land, these knights, these subjects, this family—they all belong to me… And when I possess them, they also possess me. One day, I will return to the Elemental Sea, and they will be the witnesses to my existence… For the York family, the most urgent need is not a noble Bloodline, but a powerful, wise, and just Guardian.”

Sylvia looked back into Victor’s eyes and said softly, “Victor, the House of Randell isn’t enough to showcase the abilities of a Highness. You need a grander stage—the Centaur Hills and the York family.”

“Uh… My surname isn’t York,” Victor teased deliberately.

“You wouldn’t be able to part with it,” Sylvia said, shaking her head with a light laugh. “You’ve already left your mark on the York family; you won’t abandon her… Besides, our child will bear the York name. He is destined to inherit our life’s work.”

“Alright… as long as it makes you happy, I’ll begrudgingly protect the York family,” Victor shrugged, then changed the subject. “However, I need to stay in the Randell Fief for the time being. I…”

“You have a more magnificent plan, and your sights are set on more than just the Centaur Hills.”

Sylvia finished Victor’s sentence and nodded. “You have already forged the Randell Fief into the most important territory in the Centaur Hills. You should indeed be stationed there before our expansion south of the river. Besides, a shift in power also requires a period of adjustment… However, from now on, you’ll have to take turns living at Rose Manor and Silver Moon Manor for a time to strengthen your influence over the entire Centaur Hills.”

Victor nodded in agreement, then asked, “Why haven’t I seen Sophia?”

“Today is the York family’s celebration to welcome His Highness Randell. It would naturally be inconvenient for Marchioness Wimbledon to appear… She is at Rose Manor right now,” Sylvia said with a placid expression.

Victor stroked his chin and sighed, “You have a point. She isn’t a member of the Centaur Hills… In a little while, I’ll go to the cathedral to pray first, then go to Rose Manor to see her.”

Sylvia suddenly cupped Victor’s cheeks, turned his head to face her, and said with a stern expression,

“I want you to remember this: you possess all of the Centaur Hills, and the Centaur Hills possesses His Highness Randell… but for the next three days, you belong only to me. Nicole, Trisley, and Sophia can all step aside!”

Victor quickly replied, “As you wish, my beautiful Lady Sylvia.”

“That’s more like it.” Sylvia’s feigned anger melted into delight. Her azure eyes grew misty and moist, and her red lips parted as she spoke in a soft, enchanting voice,

“One more thing… turn your eyes gold for me.”

Chapter 536: Research Direction

Three days later, in His Highness Randell’s study at Rose Manor.

“Your Highness, the scroll on the left is the list of Rose Manor’s secret knights, seventy-four knights and two hundred twenty-three apprentice knights in total. The scroll on the right is the record of the various families’ secret knights, but Rose Manor only has a partial list; it’s incomplete.”

Victor put down the parchment scroll in his hand and leaned back in his chair. Looking at the silver-haired yet sharp-spirited old steward, he asked with a smile, “Dr. Morris, have you taken the Gold Potion?”

A grateful smile appeared on the old steward’s smooth, ruddy face. He bowed slightly and said respectfully, “Thanks to Your Highness and My Lady, I am now a senior knight.”

Victor smiled and nodded. Glancing at the four large chests of scrolls in the corner of the room, he said, amused, “Don’t be in such a hurry to thank me… Since you’re a senior knight now, your retirement will have to be postponed. You’ll have to continue serving as the steward of Rose Manor.”

The old Dr. Morris said with heartfelt sincerity, “It is my life’s honor to serve you both, Your Highnesses.”

Victor tapped the table and changed the subject. “The number of secret knights at Rose Manor exceeds my estimate, but the number of Mystic Warriors is lower than I expected, only one hundred ninety-three people, even fewer than the number of apprentice knights. Why is that?”

“Your Highness, Rose Manor originally had only half the number of secret knights it does now.”

Dr. Morris explained, “During the Tournament in the Centaur Hills, we took in many children with noble bloodlines. Lady Audel also brought back two hundred fifty children of fallen nobles from the Eastern Alliance this time. We now have an abundant pool of candidates to be trained as secret knights. Thanks to the baptismal potions and Vigor Potion formulas provided by Aerie Fortress, there has been a significant increase in the number of noble children successfully advancing to initial-rank apprentice knight and initial-rank Knight.”

“On the other hand, according to the York family’s rules, secret knights retire at fifty-two, and apprentice knights retire at forty-five. Lady Sylvia gave them a choice: those who took the Gold Potion had to extend their service by ten years. All my old pals chose the Gold Potion. That’s why the number of secret knights at Rose Manor is more than half again as large as it was five years ago.”

“As for the Mystic Warriors…”

The old steward pondered for a moment before saying, “Training a single Mystic Warrior costs at least two thousand Gold Sols… The family’s financial burden is already great, so our various potion resources can only be prioritized for the secret knights.”

Victor nodded, then asked, “Are the other families also training secret knights?”

Dr. Morris bowed again and replied, “Your Highness, Rose Manor cannot conveniently inquire into the internal affairs of the various families. If you wish for a detailed list of their secret knights, I can have our spies investigate the matter secretly. However, I cannot guarantee the accuracy of the intelligence.”

“No need to investigate… I was just curious.” Victor waved his hand with a smile, his expression relaxed as he asked, “Does Duke York have secret knights and Mystic Warriors under his command as well?”

Dr. Morris hesitated for half a second before saying respectfully, “Yes, we have a relatively good understanding of the forces under the My lord Duke’s command… Your Highness, would you like to see the list?”

“That won’t be necessary.” Victor stood up from his seat, straightened his collar, and instructed, “Take me to the crystal conservatory. I want to see Sylvia.”

Dr. Morris responded, “Your Highness, My Lady is not in the crystal conservatory at the moment. She should be in the manor’s secret chamber, studying the royal family’s notes you brought back with the family’s legacy scholars.”

“Lead the way.”

“Yes.” The old steward pushed open the door and led Victor deeper into the manor.

Victor’s ascension to a Highness and his subsequent move into Rose Manor, though it had only been three short days, sent a very strong political signal. It was tantamount to Victor and Sylvia holding a wedding, and it brought a new political influence to the Gambis Kingdom and the Centaur Hills.

Because His Highness Randell’s current strength could rival Sylvia’s, the fact that they continued to live together without any need for adjustment was enough to show their deep affection and mutual trust. Everyone in the York family, from top to bottom, was overjoyed by this.

However, for the York family to accommodate His Highness Randell, the political structure of the Centaur Hills had to be adjusted.

Victor and Sylvia’s long-awaited reunion naturally involved a great deal of being lovey-dovey and whispering sweet nothings, but they didn’t spend all their time stuck to each other. They were mainly discussing the future political structure of the Centaur Hills.

Sylvia had long prepared a relatively stable solution. The core of it was that her and Victor’s son would marry the youngest daughter of Catelyn and Enbise, and his heir would be the Lord of the Centaur Hills. Victor’s children with Trisley or Nicole would inherit the House of Randell and swear fealty to their half-brother. All political restructuring would revolve around this core.

Victor had no objections to this. In truth, the House of Randell and the York family faced the same problem: if the family heir was not powerful enough, they would be trampled by external forces and lose the political legacy of their ancestors. In that case, Victor’s push for the Centralized Allotted Land System to strengthen the House of Randell would have been for nothing but to pave the way for outsiders.

Aside from Nicole and Trisley, it was unlikely any other high-ranking female knight would be willing to give her and Victor’s child to the House of Randell. From this perspective, Victor had to accept Sylvia’s proposal and become the Guardian of the next generation of the Centaur Hills.

The Centralized Allotted Land System replacing the feudal system was the general trend, but the York family was massive, with intricate internal factions. Neither political restructuring nor system reform would be easy.

Fortunately, Victor and Sylvia still had ample time to lay their plans in advance. Before that, Victor needed to gain a deep understanding of the York family’s current political system.

Great families generally adopted a dual-core political system of a Guardian and a firstborn lord. The Guardian was a high-ranked Knight of the family, responsible for protecting the interests of all family members, playing the role of supervisor, arbitrator, and decision-maker, and holding the highest authority. To maintain their authority, a Guardian would generally not make decisions lightly, but once an order was given, no opposition was tolerated.

The firstborn lord was a buffer not only between the Guardian and the family’s other high-ranked knights, but also between the Guardian and external powers. When internal and external conflicts could not be resolved, the firstborn lord might be thrown out as a scapegoat.

Marquess Ephesus of the Kingdom of Borea and Marquess Bastern of Gambis were bloody examples of this.

This was because the firstborn lord’s power was immense, so immense that they had to risk their lives for it. As the executors and architects of family policy, as long as they did not harm the family’s fundamental interests or bully vassal members, they could influence nearly all of the Family Guardian’s decisions. Even if a high-ranked knight from a vassal family caused them trouble, the Family Guardian would back them up.

The position of firstborn lord was always passed down through blood relatives, while the Guardian was designated by the previous Guardian. However, for the royal family and the queen’s family, the lord and Guardian were often the same person.

In fact, the royal family and the queen’s family already had the makings of a centralized system. The York family intended to adjust its political structure in the direction of the queen’s family.

The York family was different from ordinary families. Sylvia was exceptionally strong-willed. She had extended Rose Manor’s reach into every corner of the Centaur Hills, openly placing informants in every vassal family, and the children of all families had to come to Rose Manor to receive training as attendants. Nominally, however, she also had to abide by the principle of not interfering in the internal affairs of her vassal families.

It was like how Rose Manor would not deliberately investigate how many secret knights a vassal family had, but if Sylvia truly wanted to know, it wouldn’t be impossible to find out.

Dr. Morris led Victor into the rear garden, to a solitary three-story stone building. The two knights guarding the secret chamber saluted Victor and took the initiative to open the door.

Victor entered the stone building alone, walked through a narrow corridor, and went straight to a small wooden door at the end. He raised his hand and knocked. Hearing Sylvia’s response, he pushed the door open and went inside.

Seeing Victor enter, Sylvia waved to the few family legacy scholars in the room, signaling for them to withdraw.

The scholars put down Tofwen’s manuscript, bowed to the two Highnesses, and then left the room, leaving Victor and Sylvia alone.

Sylvia sat behind the desk and asked with a broad smile, “Darling, have you finished reading all of Rose Manor’s documents?”

“I’ve gone through them roughly,” Victor nodded, pulling out the chair in front of the desk and sitting down to face Sylvia. “I’m not the Guardian of the York family yet, and I still want to do a few things with the House of Randell. I don’t plan on getting directly involved in Rose Manor’s affairs just yet.”

“Darling, I never intended to hold you back.” Sylvia shook her head and said with a half-smile, “But that’s not what I wanted to hear… I’ve shown you all of Rose Manor’s secrets. Shouldn’t you tell me all of the House of Randell’s secrets?”

Victor put on an innocent face. “It hasn’t even been nine years since I founded the House of Randell. There’s no place in the Randell Fief you can’t go. What secrets could the House of Randell have? What secrets could I have? Hmm… The only mystery in the House of Randell is old Miller. But his lips are sealed tighter than a fortress wall. His Proverb was a great help to me, but other than that, he refuses to tell me anything else.”

Sylvia nodded thoughtfully and asked softly, “Our Lord is not the Lord, the Lord is not our Lord… This Proverb practically reveals the true nature of the material world. Your ‘The mind is sovereign, the bloodline is the Law’ is built upon this Proverb?”

“Yes.” Victor said with emotion, “In a world where gods reveal themselves and Devils lurk, without Miller’s Proverb, I would never have dared to imagine that my own soul is a part of the world’s will. If I couldn’t affirm the sanctity of the self, how could the Mind Bloodline secret art even exist?”

Sylvia sighed faintly. She glanced at Victor’s dark gold, mismatched eyes and said with a small smile, “Your intellectual gifts are extraordinary. Clement is wise, but he has walked too far down the path of the clergy. Even if he heard Miller’s Proverb, it would be difficult for him to grasp its meaning.”

“Are you saying old Miller’s Proverb was meant specifically for me?” Victor’s eyes flickered as he asked, “What is he trying to do?”

“Don’t try to change the subject!”

Sylvia waved the parchment scroll in her hand, raised a slender eyebrow, and said teasingly, “This manuscript from the Aerie Fortress Wizard is of inestimable value. He was willing to trade his own research for your Mind Bloodline secret art, which shows just how important it is… And you kept something so important from me? Last night, you kept telling me I was the woman you loved most, and today you say you have no secrets from me?”

“I can explain this.”

Victor took Sylvia’s slender hand in his and caressed it gently, his expression exceptionally sincere. “My Mind Bloodline secret art is not mature at all. When I ran into Windfang in Naville, I understood the common ground between the two Bloodlines and merged them, but the Mind Bloodline secret art only works for me. It’s far from a success… How could I show my failure to the woman I love most?”

Sylvia giggled nonstop. Propping herself up with one hand on the desk, she floated lightly into Victor’s lap, wrapped her arms around his neck, and cooed, “I’m definitely the woman you love most, and you are the only man I currently love…”

“What do you mean, ‘currently’?! Does that mean you’ll love another man in the future?” Victor bristled with mock anger, exclaiming loudly.

Sylvia kissed Victor’s cheek, her star-like eyes half-closed as she said dreamily, “In the future, I will also love our son…”

“Hmm, that’s acceptable,” Victor said, stroking his chin and nodding.

After a few moments of tenderness, Victor returned to the previous topic. “The key to the success of the Mind Bloodline secret art is whether Tofwen can develop a spirit meditation potion… I’m optimistic about this. He has a very deep understanding of the human bloodline, and his notes are a great help to me in perfecting the Mind Bloodline secret art.”

But Sylvia shook her head. “I don’t think the Mind Bloodline secret art will have a very obvious effect on a knight’s advancement to the extraordinary realm. According to Tofwen’s explanation of the human bloodline, the knight’s bloodline is just one of hundreds of variations. Even with the aid of a spirit meditation potion, it would be very difficult for a cultivator to single out the knight’s bloodline.”

A thought struck Victor, and he asked, “Have you tried?”

“Yes.” Sylvia nodded and said flatly, “I can’t see my own bloodline, because I can’t visualize the destruction of the Elemental Sea.”

“…visualize the destruction of the Elemental Sea,” Victor was stunned for a long moment, then said in frustration, “If you can’t see it, then no Extraordinary Knight can… I’m not a knight, so I can’t design a Mind Bloodline secret art for knights.”

Sylvia frowned. “The Mind Bloodline secret art provides a theory. Ordinary Knight-Nobles can use it as a basis to explore on their own. The Auguste family’s Silver Bloodline is relatively pure, so it will be easier for them to see their own knight’s bloodline. And with Tofwen the Wizard there to observe and record… I think the August family will soon create a knight’s version of the Mind Bloodline secret art. The problem is, they won’t share it with us.”

Victor, however, said with relief, “A brand-new theory needs people to explore it from different directions to correct its errors and enrich its content. Let the Auguste family research the knight’s Mind Bloodline secret art. We will concentrate our efforts on researching the Mind Bloodline secret art for common warriors and Ferocious warriors.”

“Common people and Ferocious humans?”

“That’s right.” Victor said with a smile, “I’m very good at this field, and its prospects are vast. Ferocious warriors are born with strong minds, making it relatively easy for them to ignite the fire of the mind. If they achieve something in cultivating the Mind Bloodline secret art, they will be no weaker than knights. As for common soldiers, their numbers are enormous. If they can just improve their physical constitution, the power they represent when gathered will exceed our imagination.”

Sylvia’s eyes lit up. “What kind of support do you need from Rose Manor?” she pressed.

Victor said with complete confidence, “I hope the York family’s apothecaries can use Tofwen’s research notes to formulate assistive potions that meet my requirements. For now, we will focus on two aspects: first, deep sleep, and second, enhancing digestive absorption. Also, the simpler the types of medicinal herbs, the better, and the more common the varieties of herbs, the better.”

“Alright!”

Sylvia stood up from Victor’s lap, took his hand, and said, “Darling, let’s go change into our combat gear.”

“What for?” Victor asked, confused.

Sylvia’s lips curled into a cunning smile. She waved a fist in front of Victor’s nose and said, “To beat you!”

A golden light flashed in Victor’s eyes. He shot up from his chair in an instant, let out a long laugh, and said eagerly:

“Then let’s try!”

Chapter 537: The Meaning of Beauty

Sylvia stood bare-handed on the lawn of the rear garden. Her sun-bright golden hair was tied in a simple ponytail, and the form-fitting women’s leather armor of a two-headed Dragon-Lizard accentuated her exquisite body, outlining her perfectly proportioned curves. A dark red halo appeared around her azure eyes, seeming to churn with scorching magma.

She lifted her delicate chin and said to Victor, who stood six meters away, “My dear, are you ready?”

Victor was clad in crimson Vine-hide armor made from a six-legged crocodile. He too was helmetless and empty-handed, and his dark-golden heterochromatic eyes held a hint of excitement. Spars between him and Sylvia were not uncommon, but this was the first time she had revealed this dark red state in her eyes, showing that even a Spirit Knight had to take his current strength seriously.

Victor’s confidence soared. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly as he said, “Come at me!”

The moment the words left his lips, Sylvia shot forward in a single step, her fingers forming a knife-hand as her fair, jade-like hand stabbed toward Victor’s chest. At the same time, he felt a crushing force spread throughout his body from the inside out, as if countless invisible threads were pulling at his thoughts, his perception, his blood, his organs, his bones, his muscles, and even his skin and hair, creating a slight sense of paralysis.

This was by no means a mental illusion, but a real and tangible spiritual power.

The spiritual power of a Spirit Knight!

Sylvia had once killed Marquess Bastern from a distance for challenging the dignity of a Spirit Knight. Her spiritual power could directly crush a mortal’s soul; even a Gold Knight would be affected by it, feeling a pain like the pricking of needles. Gold Knights called this power the Mental Spike.

The intensity of Victor’s Soul Fire far surpassed the limits of a mortal, having reached the Legendary-rank. Sylvia’s Mental Spike only made him feel a physical and mental discomfort. But precisely because there was no distracting pain, he could clearly perceive the hopeless, irresistible danger hidden behind the Mental Spike.

—Any subtle change in his body would be completely exposed before Sylvia. No matter what evasive action he took, her hand would surely strike his chest… Perhaps he could struggle for ten seconds, maybe twenty-five, but the result would not change!

Although he knew before the spar that Sylvia would not truly harm him, at this moment, X-3 naturally entered its Apocalypse state. Golden rings of light lit up in Victor’s eyes, his Soul Fire blazed violently, and his spiritual strength instantly surged to its peak. Everything around him seemed to be frozen in a block of amber, every detail presented in his mind without omission.

He “saw” Sylvia’s movements immediately become slow. Her golden hair streamed straight back, the air parting around her armor which glinted with blue light. Her blue eyes, ringed in dark red, reflected his expressionless face. Her flawless, jade-like hands were wreathed in a bone-chilling, emerald-green airflow, stabbing towards his chest in a slow but continuous motion.

The time-stagnation phenomenon of the Apocalypse state was actually X-3 mobilizing spiritual power for extremely rapid calculations, not a true freezing of time and space. Even though Sylvia’s movements were slowed in Victor’s perception, his own movements were even slower than hers.

This could only mean one thing: Sylvia’s movements were faster than his own top speed!

All of X-3’s calculated solutions were rejected. Victor’s mind went blank, and his gold-ringed eyes turned completely dark gold. The world faded layer by layer, turning into an indescribable chaos. The void wind element poured into his body and mind, and his slow movements broke through the gel-like restraints.

Limit Evasion!

Victor felt only a moment of ultimate freedom. When the world returned to its normal colors, he saw Sylvia’s upright back. Her red hair, like flowing fire, draped over her shoulders. The sight was so beautiful it made him hold his breath and his thoughts ceased, as if everything around him had fallen into a wondrous silence.

Just then, a faint noise and the sound of conversation came from a short distance away, followed by the sound of two people turning back. The recent fluctuation of the void wind element had alerted Sophia and Trisley. They had run over to check on the situation but were stopped by the secret knights on guard duty. After the secret knights explained the situation to the two Raging Wave Knights, they left.

Sylvia turned around, and Victor’s mind, which had just regained its clarity, wavered once more.

Some beauty could make one feel ashamed of their own inferiority, making it difficult to look directly, such as a one-in-a-thousand handsome man or beautiful woman. Some beauty could inspire worship and pursuit, treating them as an idol, like a naturally gorgeous superstar. Some beauty could make a sovereign’s judgment clouded by infatuation, making them utterly compliant, like a devastatingly beautiful temptress. Yet, the beauty of a Spirit Knight transcended the limits of the senses, piercing straight to the soul, making one want to prostrate in worship, as if in the presence of a deity.

Seeing Victor staring at her in a daze, Sylvia was puzzled. The spiritual power of a legendary powerhouse could illuminate the self, clarifying both inner and outer worlds. Even if she used her Mental Spike at full power, she couldn’t hurt their souls, let alone charm their will.

Victor’s current state was strange. A thought stirred in Sylvia’s heart, and she decided not to disturb him, merely maintaining the peak circulation of her Aura as she stood quietly to the side.

After a while, Victor’s gaze focused, his eyes regaining their clarity. He nodded and smiled, “Your Highness, your beauty has moved me.”

“Oh?”

Sylvia took Victor’s arm. Her fiery red hair turned back to a soft, shining gold, and her eyes returned to their sky-like azure. She asked softly, “What new mystery have you discovered?”

Victor strolled with Sylvia across the lawn, saying as he walked, “I’ve mentioned to you before that survival, procreation, and thought are the three great human instincts. All human activities, including mental and physical ones, originate from these three instincts. So what is beauty? Why do people love beauty and loathe ugliness? Where do the standards for judging beauty and ugliness come from?”

“If we say the instincts for survival and procreation are the source of ordinary human emotions—leading to the evolution of love, family affection, friendship, and the emergence of emotions like jealousy, hatred, and indifference… then where does the love for beautiful flowers, pretty stones, pleasant sounds, rich colors, and scenic views come from? It seems people are born able to distinguish beauty from ugliness. Who bestowed this standard of judgment? Why does the standard of beauty show such universal common ground?”

Sylvia smiled faintly, her eyes full of admiration and encouragement, and asked in a soft voice:

“And what is your answer?”

“In you, I see that beauty is a manifestation of the perfection of the world’s Laws.” Victor’s gaze was profound, his voice filled with a power that could tear through the fog of confusion.

“The love of beauty is the pursuit of the perfection of the world’s Laws. It is the fourth instinct bestowed upon humanity by the Creator. It is the driving force of thought, the source of wisdom, and the greatest distinction between intelligent beings and lower life forms. Only intelligent beings possess a love for beauty. It is because they love beauty that they break free from the instinctual shackles of foraging and mating, stop their hurried pace, and observe the world… observing flowers, trees, fruits, insects, mountains and rivers, the changing winds and clouds, and all other natural creations. And from that, they learned to think and ignited the light of wisdom.”

Sylvia’s eyes were entranced. She sighed and said, “Victor, the beauty of your wisdom moves me.” After a pause, she added with anticipation, “And what about the practical significance?”

“The practical significance? It’s enormous!”

Victor laughed heartily, his expression radiant as he said, “The human bloodline has hundreds of Law variations. The Shamaness Tofwen spent nearly a century, sacrificing the lives of many death-row prisoners, to verify them one by one, just to cultivate Mystic Warriors whose physical fitness could rival an initial-rank Knight. Once Shamaness Tofwen dies of old age, this technique will be lost. In fact, my Mind Bloodline secret art faces the same problem. The hundreds of bloodline variations form a balanced whole. Altering the bloodline’s Laws carries great risk. If not practiced correctly, death, injury, and disability are inevitable… But if I modify the secret art according to the aesthetic principles of harmony, proportion, symmetry, and unity in diversity, I can avoid mistakes to the greatest extent possible. You could say that the principle of beauty will save me decades of time in perfecting the Mind Bloodline secret art… If this theory holds, in ten years at most, we will have Mystic Warriors comparable to senior apprentice knights!”

Sylvia pouted slightly and asked, “My dear, isn’t it Mind Warriors?”

“Mind Warriors? Haha, my dear, you’re too greedy.” Victor shook his head with a chuckle, then said ambitiously, “Mind Warriors will have Tournans as their benchmark. They must be at least at the level of a senior knight!”

“My dear, you’re the greedy one.”

Sylvia couldn’t help but smile. She hugged Victor’s arm with both hands and said joyfully, “But I like it.”

“Alright, let’s put the matter of the secret art of the mind aside for now… In my eyes, they can’t compare to a single one of your fingers.” Sylvia gently pinched Victor’s arm, sighed, and said, “Do you know what just happened to you?”

Victor was startled out of his joy. He asked in surprise, “That was my Limit Evasion combat technique. Is there a problem with it?”

“Mm.” Sylvia nodded, then said thoughtfully, “Limit Evasion shouldn’t be simply called a combat technique. It’s a top-tier talent… First, tell me, what are your expectations for Limit Evasion?”

Victor answered without hesitation, “When I trigger Limit Evasion, I end up behind the enemy. I can’t control this process; I can’t even think. I hope to control Limit Evasion, or at least maintain my own will so I don’t experience a perceptual blank.”

“A perceptual blank is a fatal flaw. Maintaining one’s own will allows for the greatest chance to counter-kill the enemy.”

Sylvia first nodded, then shook her head. “But that’s impossible. You can’t maintain your consciousness during Limit Evasion… because Limit Evasion connects to the Elemental Sea of wind. You were in a state of complete elementalization.”

“What?!” Victor’s face changed drastically. He stopped in his tracks and said in horror, “How is that possible? I’m not a High-ranked Knight… Complete elementalization, wouldn’t that… wouldn’t that mean returning to the origin of the world? But I’m still alive and well…”

Sylvia glanced at him and said with a frown, “You transformed into the void wind element, and your evasion speed was extreme, but I saw blue Law Runes.”

Victor froze on the spot. Sylvia pulled him along to continue their walk, saying, “I estimate that only I can perceive your Law Runes… The Sword Saint Draven can also manifest Law Runes to control the power of the fire Elemental Sea. And you control the power of the wind Elemental Sea… In other words, your application of the void wind element is similar to a God-favored’s spell model. The difference is that yours is a Bloodline talent, while theirs is a soul talent.”

“There’s good news and bad news. Which do you want to hear first?” Sylvia asked with a smile.

Victor came back to his senses and said breezily, “I’ll hear the good news first.”

“The good news is that your Limit Evasion’s authority over the Elemental Sea is very high, close to the essence of the void wind element… which means you performed a spatial movement.” Sylvia tilted her head and smiled. “Wizardry, divine arts, void elements, physical attacks, a frontal assault, or a sneak attack from behind—you can dodge one fatal injury. The only vulnerability is the momentary opening right after the blink ends.”

Victor was overjoyed, grinning from ear to ear. “Then what’s the bad news?”

“The bad news is, if you encounter an opponent with higher authority over the Elemental Sea than you, Limit Evasion will turn you into…” Sylvia held her palm up to her red lips, blew a puff of air, and said, “…into the wind element.”

Victor stood stunned for a long time, his face gradually turning pale. He looked at Sylvia and asked in a trembling voice, “Just now… when you used your full power, turning your hair and eyes red, was it to save my life?”

“Sigh… I used all my power to completely push aside the other three series of void elements. It took everything I had to keep my beloved husband from vanishing into the wind.” Sylvia shook her head with a sigh, took Victor’s hand, and pressed it against her full chest. She said pitifully, “You scared me to death… Listen, my heart is still pounding.”

“Thank you…” Victor withdrew his hand, his expression wooden, then cried out in anger:

“How can there be such a terrible talent!”

Limit Evasion was triggered passively, beyond Victor’s control, and it left a fatal opening at the end. Even against a Gold Knight, there was a risk of being counter-killed. If he encountered a Legendary-rank enemy, like the Centaur Orogar or the earth Knight Neo Wester, Victor would surely die.

Sylvia comforted him, “My dear, don’t forget, you’re an extraordinary archer of the Legendary-rank. You shouldn’t be engaging in close combat in the first place. In a dire situation, the Limit Evasion talent can at least give you a sliver of a chance to survive.”

Victor’s expression softened. He nodded and said, “My dear, you’re right…” He grasped Sylvia’s slender hand and said gratefully, “Thank goodness I had you to help me test Limit Evasion. Otherwise, I might not have even known how I died.”

Sylvia smiled and said, “Actually, the level of Limit Evasion is very high, touching upon the origin of the world. It might be your path to breaking through to Legendary and stepping into the Saint realm… My suggestion is, since you can’t think during the evasion, decide on the direction and distance before you evade. Change it from a passive ability to an active one… If you succeed, your Nemesis will also see a huge improvement, and Limit Evasion will have to be renamed. It should be called ‘Void Blink’.”

“Void Blink? A great name!” Victor’s eyes lit up. He pressed on, “My dear, what should I do?”

Sylvia shook her head helplessly. “This is where I can’t help you… If High-ranked Knights could master Law Runes, we wouldn’t have to use the power of the Elemental Sea so crudely… I think there’s only one person who can help you: the God-favored Miller.”

Victor’s long, thin eyebrows furrowed. He said hesitantly, “That old man Miller is so secretive, I have no idea what he’s thinking… Especially after hearing Roland’s interpretation of the Great Divination, I’m even more worried about Miller.”

“Roland’s insight on Great Divination is very sharp. I also benefited greatly from it. Combined with my perception of the Elemental Sea’s fluctuations back then, I feel I’ve glimpsed the mysteries of the Great Divination.” Sylvia nodded in praise. “For Roland to have such insight, she’s not far from Legendary, and she’ll surely be a particularly powerful Legendary Knight. That’s because the essence of the water element is the flow of time, which is closely related to the Great Divination.”

Victor asked in disbelief, “You knew nothing about Great Divination before?”

Sylvia rolled her eyes at him, lowered her head, and ground the tip of her foot into the lawn, saying discontentedly, “Knowledge doesn’t just fall from the sky. How can the York family’s legacy and resources and heritage compare to the Auguste family’s? Since the Great Divination is the Church’s ultimate deterrent against High-ranked Knights, is it so strange that I knew nothing about it?”

“Hmph, tell me! Have you started to like Roland?”

Victor quickly said, “I like her, but not as a lover. Our relationship is like that of a brother and sister. On this point, I am being honest, with absolutely nothing to hide.”

“To think you’d even use an oath to defend yourself… You really do have designs on her.”

Sylvia shot her Lover a sidelong glance, but her heart felt sweet. She elegantly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and changed the subject.

“Tournans, Nachtigal, Neo Wester, the current Pope—none of them are qualified to be mentioned in the same breath as me. Only the God-favored Miller might be a figure on par with a Spirit Knight. But Miller’s power comes from principle and self-discipline. Judging from the help he’s given you, he is full of goodwill towards you.”

“We pursue power to gain the freedom of choice. If Miller can help you advance further, why not give it a try? If you become even stronger, why would you need to worry about Miller’s schemes?”

Hearing Sylvia’s words, Victor felt a sense of sudden enlightenment. He smiled, “My dear, you’re absolutely right. After I return, I’ll go have a good chat with old man Miller!”

Sylvia pursed her lips and smiled. “Before you go to see old man Miller, you should probably go comfort your My Lady first.”

“I’m afraid Sophia has been waiting impatiently.”

Chapter 538: The Satyr Kingdom

Rose Manor, in the guest villa in the rear courtyard.

Victor pushed open the redwood door that separated the bedroom from the parlor. A graceful figure was seated before a dressing table. Her soft, lustrous purple hair was gathered in a loose, casual style, and the silver mirror on the table reflected a delicate and beautiful face. Paired with her white, fine linen nightgown, it created an aura of hazy languor, making one yearn for the moment she would turn around.

“You didn’t knock.”

Sophia’s melodious voice was tinged with resignation, yet also a hint of reproach. But behind the reproach, Victor heard an imperceptible sense of relief and secret delight.

He took off his boots, changed into a pair of slippers, unfastened his coat, and casually hung it on the clothes rack to his left. “I’ve told you before,” he said in a nonchalant tone. “I don’t need to knock to enter my wife’s room.”

The last of Sophia’s apprehension instantly vanished. She quickly slipped into the role of a wife, and with her back still to Victor, she said sarcastically:

“My husband was promoted to a Highness, yet I, his wife, had to learn of it from the Church’s announcement. I followed my husband’s request and waited for him at Rose Manor for a full six months. My husband returns to the Centaur Hills and actually leaves me hanging for three days. I, his wife, wasn’t even allowed to attend the Evening Banquet in Goldwater City to welcome my husband.”

Victor was stunned. Sophia had a difficult personality, despised authority, and responded to soft tactics but not hard ones. He had originally thought that with his promotion to a Highness, placing him in a position of power, Sophia would adopt a cold and reserved posture. He never expected her to be so forward in seeking his affection.

He walked to the bedside and sat down, chuckling lightly. “What a sour tone. It’s like you’ve knocked over a jar of fruit vinegar from Naville.”

“Jealousy is a wife’s prerogative… His Highness Randell wouldn’t deprive me of one of the few privileges I have left, would he?”

Sophia turned her head. A sweet yet willful smile played on her lips, but her amethyst-like eyes revealed a frailness that begged for pity. A sense of intimacy and submission blended into a unique charm, but when she saw Victor’s unusual dark gold eyes, the enchanting expression on her face instantly turned into one of irrepressible, stunned admiration.

Seeing Sophia’s slightly parted lips and wide eyes, Victor teased her smugly, “I’m a Highness now. Well? Did the charm of your purple-eyed bloodline suffer a backlash?”

Sophia gracefully rose and walked toward Victor with elegant steps. The slits on the sides of her nightgown revealed flawless legs, long, straight, fair, and soft. She came to a stop before Victor, placed her hands on his shoulders, bent her right leg, and knelt on the edge of the bed. Her elegantly curved neck bent down, lowering her stunningly beautiful face. A faint smile hung on her lips, and her eyes shone with wildness and passion.

“Do you admit it? That I am your wife? Your partner?”

“Of course,” Victor affirmed with a nod.

“Prove it to me.”

Sophia’s eyes grew hazy, and she gently licked her luscious red lips.

Sophia giggled charmingly, cupping Victor’s face as her voice filled with passion. “Don’t be in such a hurry… darling. I want to see your gold eyes… Change them for me just once, won’t you?”

“…”

The next morning, sunlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains, illuminating the dim bedroom.

Sophia curled up at Victor’s side, her fair cheek resting against his shoulder.

“I love you.”

Victor could hear the earnestness in her voice, but he didn’t want to move. He smiled and asked, “So you didn’t love me before?”

Sophia sighed faintly, her voice low and gentle. “I did, but that love was like a favorite piece of jewelry. When I couldn’t even protect myself, I could give it away to someone else.”

Victor raised an eyebrow, asking in surprise, “Then what is this love now? Awe for the power of a Highness? That doesn’t sound like the Sophia I know…”

Sophia lifted her head, glanced at Victor, then buried her face again and said gently:

“When Natalia went to Naville to see you, you were already a Highness, weren’t you? But you didn’t look down on her… I detest the high and mighty great lords and great nobles. In their eyes, a Knight with a low bloodline can never compare to one of high birth… Victor, you are different from them. As a Highness, you didn’t give Natalia the cold shoulder because of her status. So, I love you, regardless of your status or power, but simply because of the consideration and care you show your partners.”

Victor fell silent for a moment before shaking his head. “I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood something… In truth, on the matter of a Knight’s status, I’m no different from the great lords… It’s just that my attitude towards my partners is different from theirs. I’m unwilling to let go of any of my women.”

“This is what people criticize me for,” Victor said with a wry smile, then added indignantly, “They believe I violate the partner principles of High-ranked Knights, that I lack Respect for a lover’s will, and that my mindset is entirely that of a small family.”

“I couldn’t care less,” Sophia said sweetly, hugging Victor. “All I know is that you won’t abandon me. Whether I’m rich or noble, even if I lose everything, you’ll still take care of me.”

Victor nodded and said, “There will always be rooms for you and Natalia in the lord’s residence at Silver Moon Manor, but on the condition that…”

“On the condition that I don’t go fooling around with other men…” Sophia reached out and pinched Victor’s nose, chuckling. “Why do you always emphasize the one thing you don’t need to worry about? Even if you weren’t a Highness, what Gold Knight would dare accept my advances? And I would never accept the attentions of a Gold Knight, for fear they would have ill intentions towards me… For the past two years, whenever I felt myself sinking into loneliness, the person I thought of most was you… Did you think of me?”

“I thought of you often. I worried you’d meet with disaster, worried you wouldn’t be able to resist the pull of the Elemental Sea…” Victor let out a breath and said frankly, “Sylvia has already told you about the Gold Potion… Besides not wanting to lose you, I was also worried The Golden Company’s plan would suffer a setback because of you.”

“Thank you for your honesty.” Sophia planted a light kiss on Victor’s lips, then got up, draped a robe over herself, and walked to the sofa, sitting down with her legs crossed.

Victor also got dressed and sat on the bed, asking curiously, “Darling, aren’t you angry?”

Sophia swung her fair, slender feet and chuckled softly. “I’m not angry. Realizing my own value has always been my pursuit. On the Arreat Plateau, I could have chosen not to venture into the dwarven mines, but how could I let the Radiant Knights usurp my position? If I truly lost my value, I’m afraid the Sasan Empire would find a way to harm me. Now, things are good. I have a monopoly on barbarian diplomacy and trade. Both the Radiant Knights and Sylvia are afraid something will happen to me. Sylvia not only told me about the Gold Potion but also provided me with the Blue Taro potion.”

“This miraculous potion can alleviate the corruption of the Elemental Sea. Taking one dose every three months on average, I can even live to the maximum lifespan of a Silver Knight, so I don’t have to rush to break through to the peak domain. Its only drawback is that it spoils too quickly, in only twenty days… It seems I’ll have to come to the Centaur Hills for holidays more often in the future,” Sophia said with a grin.

The Blue Taro potion was a potion Wizard Tofwen had concocted for Sylvia, capable of alleviating the Elemental Sea’s corruption of a Spirit Knight. The twenty-day shelf life was most likely a time limit deliberately set by Tofwen, and Sylvia had used this limitation to tie Sophia down.

But then again, the Blue Taro potion was extremely valuable and only beneficial to Sophia. If Sophia hadn’t monopolized the barbarian trade, Sylvia might not have offered it.

Victor nodded and said, “The Blue Taro potion was specially made for Sylvia by the Aerie Fortress apothecaries, so of course it’s effective. Unfortunately, Blue Taro is a specialty product of the Great Marsh; its yield is low, and it is exceedingly rare. When you feel you need to recuperate your mind and body, just return to the Centaur Hills. I will order The Swamp Scouts to mark the Blue Taro in the Great Marsh to ensure you have a supply of the potion.”

Sophia bit her lip and said tenderly, “My regular holidays in the Centaur Hills won’t just be for the Blue Taro potion… Once your Bloodline stabilizes, we’ll have a child, and he will inherit our joint enterprise—The Golden Company. But I’ve run into trouble now. The Golden Company’s plan is being resisted by Stonetooth City and Bronze-Halberd City. I need your help.”

“Er… let’s put that aside for a moment.” Victor changed the subject, pressing, “First, tell me what you saw in the dwarven caves. And also, talk to me about the details of the barbarian trade.”

Sophia blinked, then nodded. “The problem with the dwarven caves is quite serious, but as long as the human kingdoms and the mountain tribes jointly carry out their trade agreement, we can completely handle the threat of the Grayhollow Satyrs.”

She pondered for a moment before continuing, “In truth, there’s not much to say about the process of entering the caves and slaying the satyr queen… We discovered that satyr clans in the wilderness are forcing a lesser type of satyr to mine minerals and transport them into the dwarven caves. The satyr clans inside the caves use the minerals and the earth-fire furnaces left behind by the dwarves to forge weapons and tools, and then they have the fatter lesser satyrs transport the metal implements out of the caves. These fattened lesser satyrs serve as both transport slaves and food for the satyr clans in the wilderness. They also develop into new satyr clans, encroaching on more barbarian territory. Meanwhile, the scrawny lesser satyrs responsible for bringing minerals into the caves remain inside, feeding on underground mushrooms.”

A chill ran down Victor’s spine. “The dwarves left the Arreat mines less than a hundred years ago,” he said in surprise, “and the Grayhollow Satyrs have already developed their own civilization?”

Sophia nodded gravely. “All signs indicate that above the many satyr queens, there is a supreme queen leader. The barbarians call her Kasalongli, which means Mother of Vile Things. She hides in the depths of the mines, using an unknown ability to control all the satyr queens. She can even control satyrs from different clans, as long as they enter a twenty-kilometer radius of the caves, they will submit to the will of the cave clan. Kasalongli possesses high intelligence. The satyrs under her direct control have all displayed organizational and coordination skills. Transportation, gathering, mushroom cultivation, tool and weapon forging, patrols, combat, and hunting are all carried out in an orderly manner with a clear division of labor.”

“This is truly the worst news I’ve heard,” Victor muttered, frowning as he asked, “Did you discover any new types of satyrs?”

Sophia sighed at length. “This is why Vice-commander Testier chose to compromise… Inside the caves, we encountered a new type of satyr, about the same size as dwarves. Their intelligence is slightly higher than that of ordinary satyrs, and their strength is lower than a human’s, but they were equipped with armor and weapons.”

Victor’s expression darkened. “Did the new type of satyr evolve from the lesser satyrs? How strong are the lesser satyrs? Do you have an estimate of their total numbers?”

“We estimate the total number of lesser satyrs to be close to three point six million. Their strength is comparable to Kobolds.”

Sophia frowned and shook her head. “As for whether the new satyrs evolved from the lesser satyrs… We were driven out before we could venture deep into the caves, so we couldn’t determine the relationship between the new satyrs and the lesser ones.”

“However, according to the Great Elder, the mushroom fields in the dwarven mines can support at most one million lesser satyrs. The new satyrs are close to dwarves in size, so their numbers shouldn’t exceed the dwarven population level, which is over four hundred thousand. Considering the satyrs live intermingled, the actual number will only be lower.”

Victor’s expression relaxed slightly. “The satyrs in the dwarven caves are limited by their food supply… That’s good news.”

Sophia also smiled. “Vice-commander Testier proposed that the barbarians plunder the minerals and ironware transported by the satyrs, then take them down the mountain to trade with humans for daily necessities, food and wine, weapons, armor, and other supplies. The barbarians can also come down the mountain to collect bounties from humans for annihilating satyr clans in the wilderness.”

“The bounties are jointly covered by the Church and the Sasan Empire, so the barbarians’ mineral resources are prioritized for the Sasan lords. I sell the other resources, but I have to pay a tax to the Teutonic Duchy of a five-percent share of the goods plus a ten-percent share of the profits.”

Victor thought for a moment and asked, “Why not persuade the barbarians to seal all the tunnels connecting the dwarven caves to the outside?”

Sophia smiled and explained, “The barbarians live as nomadic hunters and are unwilling to settle down and stand guard. The Great Elder did suggest something similar, but it was met with strong opposition from most of the barbarians. Challengers to the Great Elder came one after another, and she had to beat down seven or eight provocateurs every day. After half a month of fighting with no results, she simply gave up.”

Victor said, dumbfounded, “The Great Elder is a female barbarian?”

Sophia smiled and pursed her lips. “She is Elder Harald’s granddaughter, the strongest War-chanter, the strongest barbarian warrior, and also the most beautiful female barbarian.”

“Is she very beautiful?” Victor asked curiously.

“Two point seven meters tall, weighs at least three hundred thirty kilograms. Very charming.”

“Er… For a barbarian, that is indeed very charming,” Victor nodded, then changed the subject. “Did you guys consider at the time that the new satyrs might break through more tunnels and dig more caverns?”

“We did… but what better way did we have?” Sophia shook her head, paused, then added, “Darling, have you considered this? The barbarians are intercepting the lesser satyrs transporting minerals. The number of lesser satyrs in the wilderness clans is decreasing, and they can’t eat the mushrooms from the caves. To replenish their numbers, might they not start eating the raw materials for the Gold Potion?”

Victor’s eyes shifted. “What’s your suggestion?”

Her smile was like a blooming flower as Sophia said, “Increase the purchase price and bounties for Arreat’s medicinal herbs, motivating the barbarians to spend more energy gathering herbs and exterminating the satyr clans in the wilderness… This will require a lot of capital from me, but The Golden Company’s plan has stalled, so…”

“Darling, I know what you mean.” Victor raised a hand to cut Sophia off, shrugging his shoulders.

“Regarding the matter of The Golden Company, I’ve invited Duke York to discuss it… The meeting is set for tonight.”

Chapter [arabic_numeral]: Temporary Notice

Stuck on Kaven, so I’m taking a day off. Don’t wait up, everyone; I’ll make it up with a double update tomorrow.

Chapter 539: The Boundary

On the matter of building The Golden Company, Victor and Sophia’s main disagreement was this: one wanted to forge it into a commercial military group under his own control, while the other hoped it would follow a neutral path, becoming a purely commercial trade organization that could win the trust and support of the great lords and thereby seize the opportunity to expand rapidly.

Initially, the Radiant Knights had hoped to use Sophia’s introduction to establish a direct diplomatic channel with Halotes Fortress. But in less than a century, the once-dull Grayhollow Satyrs had developed into a monstrous kingdom, posing a grave threat to the barbarians and the Teutonic Duchy. Anyone could perceive the abnormality behind the Satyr civilization and the imminent crisis it represented.

Superseding Sophia’s influence over the barbarians was no longer the primary objective for the Radiant Knights and the Sasan Empire. The Gold Paladin of House Testier made a swift decision, forging a bounty-for-trade alliance with Halotes Fortress to quickly establish a new strategic balance on the Arreat Plateau.

The barbarians did not understand the political and commercial stratagems of the human kingdoms, but they trusted Sophia Urus to protect the interests of Halotes.

As a result, Sophia monopolized trade and diplomacy with the barbarians, and for the short term, almost no one could challenge her political standing. Moreover, she controlled some of the raw materials for the Gold Potion; Sylvia would never risk offending Sophia for the sake of dominating The Golden Company.

Therefore, Sylvia simply refused to involve herself in the matter, leaving Victor and Sophia to resolve it on their own.

Victor was equally unwilling to discuss The Golden Company with Sophia alone, as such talks would inevitably devolve into a squabble between husband and wife. Regardless of the outcome, Sophia would simply turn around and kick Victor’s mercenaries out of the picture. When Lady Randell played dirty, Victor could do nothing but stare in frustration. In truth, the House of Randell no longer possessed the objective means to restrain Sophia. Even revoking her exclusive rights to raw sugar would be of little use; none of the kingdoms would refuse her caravans now. Without raw sugar, she would merely lose one source of profit.

Sophia had a stubborn personality and rarely compromised, but she honored her commitments and possessed the spirit of contract common among the commercial nobility. A private conversation between them as husband and wife was bound to fail, but an official one might work. According to their original agreement, the House of Randell, the York family, and the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence were all major shareholders in The Golden Company. With no other powers invested, the company’s development strategy was supposed to be decided through joint consultation among the three families.

As long as the Marchioness Wimbledon made a promise in the presence of the York family, she would not go back on her word.

If Victor couldn’t budge Sylvia, surely he could summon Duke York?

Enbise York had established the Two-headed Lizard Merchant Guild in the Centaur Hills to interface with The Golden Company, making him the person responsible for related affairs. When His Highness Randell requested his presence for negotiations, he had no reason, nor the standing, to refuse.

However, after Victor and Sophia finished their dinner and had two cups of Cherre tea in the small drawing-room of Rose Manor, Duke York still had not appeared.

“Enbise isn’t coming.”

Sylvia, dressed in a blue dress with her hair down, glanced at Victor and Sophia seated on opposite sides of the round table. She sighed, placed her coffee cup on the table, and leaned back in her wicker chair. “I will represent the York family in our discussion.”

Victor crossed his legs and rubbed his chin, his gaze profound. “This makes things difficult. You are both my women. How are we supposed to negotiate?”

Sylvia shot him an exasperated look. “This is all your fault! You’ve made a simple matter so complicated. Couldn’t you two have just solved it yourselves? You just had to drag me into it…”

Sylvia felt helpless as well. A Family Guardian was supposed to remain behind the scenes, rarely voicing an opinion and only making final decisions, certainly not participating directly in negotiations. Matters like The Golden Company should have been handled by their respective advisors through multiple rounds of consultation if needed. What sense was there in letting the decision-makers themselves enter the fray?

The more a Guardian meddled in the details, the greater the chance of making a mistake, which would not only damage their own authority but also eliminate all flexibility in the family’s internal and external affairs. However, Victor and Sophia had no truly capable people under them and had to handle everything personally. How could Enbise possibly negotiate when facing a Raging Wave Knight and a Highness directly?

Thus, when Victor asked Duke York to join the discussion, Sylvia had no choice but to step in herself.

The more she thought about it, the more annoyed she became. She gave Victor another glare and said, “Since it’s the three of us discussing this, let’s not waste any more time. Let’s each state our positions. Please speak frankly.”

“In truth, I don’t care about The Golden Company, or the Wimbledon Merchant Association. I only care if Sophia can guarantee the supply of medicinal herbs for Centaur Hills,” Sylvia said, looking at Victor with a reproachful tone.

“As long as Sophia transports the raw materials for the Gold Potion to the Centaur Hills, we will give her our full support. As for how she does it, that is her own business… Why are you so concerned with it?”

Sophia was overjoyed, her smile radiant. “Cousin Sylvia, you’re the best to me… Unlike a certain someone, who thinks about taking back the things he’s given me. Hmph.” With that, she cast a triumphant sidelong glance at Victor.

Sylvia smiled gently. “My dear cousin,” she said kindly, “that certain someone you speak of is my designated successor, the next Guardian of the Centaur Hills. We should still listen to his opinion.”

Sophia’s expression turned serious. She nodded and said, “If I wasn’t seeking his consent, I wouldn’t have waited for him in the Centaur Hills for over six months.”

Hearing this, Sylvia couldn’t help but raise an elegant eyebrow. Noticing that Victor also looked surprised, she said with great interest, “It seems something has happened that I am unaware of.”

Sophia gave a faint smile. “I once made a promise to the Gambis Royal Family and the Radiant Knights that after a few years, I would voluntarily relinquish control of the Wimbledon Merchant Association, retaining only the title of Marchioness Wimbledon. As things stand today, they wouldn’t force me to honor that promise even if I continued to hold the merchant association. In other words, it doesn’t matter to me whether I develop The Golden Company or not.”

Victor’s pupils contracted slightly. “I thought it was strange, too,” he asked. “Given the current situation, you could maintain control over the Wimbledon Merchant Association for a long time. Why are you still so enthusiastic about developing The Golden Company?”

“Because of you, my dear.”

Sophia gave Victor a beautiful smile, then lowered her head, gently stirring the Cherre tea before her with a silver spoon. “I know you won’t give up on your plans for The Golden Company,” she said softly. “If I were to abandon it and continue managing the Wimbledon Merchant Association, I would face a powerful competitor in the not-so-distant future… A competitor I could not possibly defeat, because it would be The Golden Company forged by His Highness Randell.”

She looked up, meeting Victor’s unique, dark-gold eyes, and said earnestly, “Since I returned to the human kingdoms from the Arreat Plateau, most of the news I’ve heard has been about your deeds. The Teutonic Duchy, the Sasan Empire, the Dodor Kingdom—all the nobles are discussing the tenant system you created. Everyone praises your talent, believing you to be a sage comparable to Noblewoman Arya… I feel proud of you, but also worried. The great scholar Randall’s design for The Golden Company could not possibly be simple. It must hold some special meaning for you.”

At this, Sophia fell silent for a moment. Staring at the verdant Cherre tea, she said slowly, “You’ve been secretly weaving a big net for me, haven’t you?”

Never underestimate the intelligence of others, especially a High-ranked Knight… Victor mused silently. He lifted his silver cup, took a sip of Cherre tea, and chuckled. “My dear, you say you often think of me… Is this how you think of me?”

“I am not a flower vase, nor do I wish to be one. And you would never respect a flower vase… If you don’t respect me, how could you truly come to love me?” Sophia’s lips curved into a dazzling smile, which then faded as she grew serious again. “I investigated the Stag Merchants’ Guild’s accounts for the past year. The total amount of raw sugar sold from the Centaur Hills is close to fifty million pounds, three times the volume of the year before. And yet, the kingdoms are still demanding to buy more… The reason is simple: the Sasan Empire’s cavalry used it to pursue the Black-hoof Centaurs. The raw sugar effectively replenished the stamina of both soldiers and their mounts, playing a vital role in battle.”

“In truth, I’m not at all worried about Stonetooth City and Bronze-Halberd City refusing to cooperate. As long as The Golden Company transports raw sugar to their gates, House DeWeimik and Princess Anqi will naturally accept it and even proactively ask to participate. In other words, with a strategic resource like raw sugar in your hands, you could build another Golden Company at any time.”

Sophia paused, her gaze sweeping over Sylvia and Victor. “I control the barbarian trade, and you control the raw sugar. We can cooperate, but we must first establish boundaries. My demand to remove Victor’s Bear Company and smuggling mercenaries is the first step in defining these boundaries.”

Victor heaved a long sigh and nodded in praise. “My dear lady, you’ve matured.”

Sophia retorted angrily, “I’m not an idiot! I didn’t understand politics before and was beaten black and blue for it, but one is bound to learn.”

Sylvia glanced reproachfully at Victor before turning her gentle gaze back to Sophia. “Cousin, I’ve warned this man before not to over-extend his reach… What kind of boundaries do you wish to establish?”

Sophia smiled faintly, sitting up straight. “A system. We must establish a system for The Golden Company. Just as Victor once said, the member families will participate in profit-sharing, but they will not interfere in the company’s operations. I can guarantee that The Golden Company will protect the core interests of the Centaur Hills; after all, my husband is the Guardian of the Centaur Hills… However, if The Golden Company becomes merely a tool of power for the Centaur Hills and loses its neutrality, it certainly won’t go far.”

Just as Victor was about to speak, he heard Sylvia say:

“Fine! I agree.”

Sophia was thrilled, but then she saw Sylvia cross her arms, an elegant smile on her lips but a sharp glint hidden in her eyes. Sylvia raised an eyebrow and asked:

“Do you believe me?”

Sophia’s expression shifted, from stunned to surprised, then to indignant, and finally settling into a self-deprecating smile. “So,” she sighed, “you’re the one who is unwilling to give up The Golden Company.”

“My dear Sophia, it’s not that I’m unwilling to give it up, but that I cannot,” Sylvia said, shaking her head.

“Years ago, I told Victor, ‘If I don’t grasp you, someone else will.’ Catherine, Earl Chepman, the Briatte family, even Duke Wellington—all of them tried, openly or secretly, sooner or later, to win him over, just in different ways… I was able to get Victor because we were the closest. This wasn’t a matter of geographical distance, but of the York family’s influence as Governor-General of the Centaur Hills, which could extend into Victor’s domain. I could send knights to help him eliminate monsters and bandits, provide him with trade channels and material aid… We must reach for anything within our grasp. If we don’t, it will become an obstacle for us.”

“It’s like flowing water. Wherever a void appears, it is immediately filled, and a balance is eventually formed.”

“By the same logic, if we don’t involve ourselves in The Golden Company, others will. And their methods of involvement will be so varied that you won’t be able to guard against them, so numerous that you’ll be left helpless.”

Sylvia gestured toward Victor with her elegantly curved chin and said to Sophia, “Do you know what this man has done? Water projects, New Agro-husbandry, public transport, the tenant system, the Mutual Aid Association—he has led the entire human realm into a new era. Refugees are on the verge of disappearing, transforming into two groups: tenant households and Urban Freemen. Because resources have become plentiful, craftsmanship has developed, the variety of goods has increased, and trade has begun to flourish. With sufficiently convenient public transportation and peaceful roads, an Urban Freeman can travel between towns with just a single pack of goods, plying his trade for profit.”

“The conditions are now ripe for freemen to engage in trade. Whether you establish The Golden Company or not, something like it will emerge. It’s inevitable.”

Sylvia picked up her cup, took a sip of coffee, and continued:

“Traveling freemen will form groups. Local gangs will get involved, forming organizations of all sizes. But any organization must ultimately serve a political purpose, or it will lose the space to survive and grow. If my vassal lords have their own freemen caravans, can I just tell them to give them up? If other families imitate The Golden Company and develop freemen caravans, can I afford not to have one?”

“My dear cousin, a so-called neutral organization has always been a joke. By asking Victor not to interfere with The Golden Company, aren’t you just trying to turn it into your own political force?”

“I…” Sophia was at a loss for words, murmuring weakly, “I never thought of it that way…”

“I believe you didn’t, but it would eventually become a political organization, and not necessarily one belonging to you… and that’s only if it could survive the competition in the first place.” Sylvia nodded, leaning back into the wicker chair. “I don’t know what The Golden Company would become in your hands,” she said languidly. “I don’t care about The Golden Company, nor the Wimbledon Merchant Association. I only care about strengthening my own power and solidifying the foundation for my family’s development. What is meant to appear will appear, and what is meant to be, will be.”

She turned her head to look at Victor, a brilliant smile gracing her lips, filled with a mixture of adoration, indulgence, helplessness, and a hint of coquettishness.

“My love, we don’t need to be in a hurry. As long as we keep moving forward, step by step, that’s all that matters. If The Golden Company is gone, we can always form a Mithril Company, can’t we?”

“I originally didn’t want to ask you this; it would rob me of many pleasant surprises. But today, our conversation has reached such a point…”

The Queen of Roses paused, resting an arm on the round table, her delicate hand propping up her flawless white cheek. Her azure eyes fixed on Victor’s handsome face.

“My beloved His Highness Randell, please tell me, why are you in such a hurry? What is it you truly want to do?”

Sophia’s amethyst eyes instantly constricted, and she stared at Victor without blinking.

That damned fatso… Victor silently cursed the Duke of York for his last-minute retreat. Looking at the two flawless faces before him, he quickly organized his thoughts. After a moment, he let out a relaxed laugh.

“Alright, I’ll start with how The Golden Company might evolve…”

“Start with your purpose,” Sylvia interrupted, her expression serene. “There are no outsiders here.”

Sophia’s eyes instantly brightened, and she looked at her husband with a smile that was not quite a smile.

Victor shook his head. “How am I supposed to talk with each of you stepping on one of my feet?”

Sylvia and Sophia exchanged a glance, and their slender feet under the table pressed down simultaneously.

“Alright, I’ll talk…” Victor raised his hands in surrender, his eyes burning with intensity.

“My purpose is to seek the power of the Lord of Radiance.”

Chapter 540: Reaching a Consensus

Sophia’s beautiful purple eyes instantly turned emerald green, like a bottomless, icy pool. She had to circulate her Aura to suppress the tremor in her heart.

The elegantly decorated small drawing-room fell silent for a moment, as if the very air had been frozen by the properties of the void water element. After a few seconds, Sylvia broke the chilling silence. Pressing the back of Sophia’s hand, she said with a calm expression:

“Don’t be deceived by this man’s words. The power of the Lord of Radiance isn’t just about divine arts; it’s more like the core political force of the human kingdoms. Since Pope Inoc founded the Radiant Church, countless people have sought the power of the Lord of Radiance. The most successful examples are the six great Paladin families. They even overthrew the Pope to seek this power, so what does it matter if Victor wants to do the same?”

A strange smile appeared on Victor’s face. He shook his head and said, “Sylvia, that you’re not surprised is what surprises me.”

“What’s so strange about it? At a certain stage, almost every great lord has similar ideas. I’d find it strange if you didn’t have such thoughts.” Sylvia chuckled. “The difference is, I have the ambition but not a good method. You, on the other hand, have not only thought about it but have also started to lay your plans. It’s just that I don’t understand your setup.”

“I… don’t understand at all.” Sophia gave a bitter smile. Seeing Sylvia sipping her coffee slowly, completely uninterested in explaining, she cast a pleading gaze at her husband.

Victor smiled and began to explain, “For thousands of years, the Knight families have been probing one question: does the Lord of Radiance have self-awareness? The default conclusion is no… This leads to a second question: if the Lord of Radiance has no self-awareness, then He is a powerful force that can be controlled. Since His Majesty Inoc could control this power, why can’t we?”

“From the Golden Age to the Bronze Age, the main political struggle in the human kingdoms has been for the power of the Lord of Radiance. The Knight-Nobles continuously infiltrated the Church. More than one thousand five hundred years ago, the six Paladin families united with the noble factions within the Church to overthrow the papal line, emerging as the biggest winners. Over three hundred years ago, the secular lords of the south, in alliance with some noble factions within the Church, challenged the Radiant Knights and secured a place in the Holy See’s Curia… Even today, the struggle hasn’t stopped. Sylvia herself was dragged into it.”

Meeting Sophia’s inquisitive gaze, Sylvia nodded and said, “Nachtigal was behind Neo Wester’s surprise attack on Ryan. The King of Eyer wanted to push me to support Neo Wester in restoring the Randt Empire, thereby expanding secular influence. Then, through the Randt Empire, he planned to cultivate and absorb lower-ranking clergy to help them return to the Church’s central authority. At its root, it’s all about seeking the power of the Lord of Radiance.”

“However, the Lightguard have long been marginalized by the Church; their potential is limited. If I got mixed up with them, I would only be pushed further from the power of the Lord of Radiance… The York family was still very weak at the time. Even if they had secured a high position in the new Randt Empire, after my Annihilation, the Yorks would have been attacked from all sides and might even have been wiped out.”

Sylvia let out a soft laugh and said lightly, “So, I led my entire family on a Westward Migration. It seemed like we were running to the western fringe of the human kingdoms, but politically, the York family grew closer to the Curia and the Radiant Knights.”

Sophia was stunned for a long while before saying faintly, “I really had no idea you great nobles think about these things all day… I thought the Church was quite peaceful nowadays.”

Victor chuckled. “You like the Church to be peaceful and don’t want it in turmoil because the clergy creates a relatively fair environment. When you run into trouble, you can appeal to the Church. But you’ve forgotten the attraction of the extraordinary… I met the Templar Dimat in the Kingdom of Naville. He was an initial-rank Knight, but once he mastered divine arts, he possessed the power, authority, and status of a Gold Knight. What kind of status can a non-naturally promoted initial-rank Knight have in the Centaur Hills? After decades of service to his family, he’d be nothing more than a minor lord. If they had the chance to master divine arts, do you think they’d hesitate to throw themselves into the arms of the Church? However, there are only so many positions for the clergy. It’s impossible for the Radiant Knights, the Curia, and the Monastery Council of Elders not to compete. And the internal struggles of the Church ripple throughout the human kingdoms, and we are compelled by circumstances to take part.”

“…When the Ant-man tide swept through the Centaur Hills, I nearly lost my life… I just don’t get it. We’re all lords, we all pay the tithe, so why did the Radiant Knights transfer all the Sacred Warriors from various regions to the Sasan Empire but turn a blind eye to the Centaur Hills? Clement used every ounce of his strength just to scrape together less than a thousand Sacred Warriors to support the Centaur Hills, and they were all new recruits!”

Victor reined in the anger in his eyes and said coldly, “From that moment on, I secretly resolved to seek the power of the Lord of Radiance.”

Sylvia lifted the teapot and, with an elegant gesture, refilled Victor’s cup with Snow Ear Tea. Her eyes downcast, she smiled and said, “My dear, I’m more interested in your method.”

After a moment of thought, Victor began to speak. “Pope Inoc’s political structure is brilliantly designed; it’s almost flawless… The Knights control the secular world, and the clergy controls divine authority. But on the vertical axis of time, Knight families rise and fall. On the horizontal axis of space, geopolitical forces compete against each other. This vertical and horizontal grid breaks the Knight families into pieces, while the Church is rooted in the vast population of mortals, drawing in the power of faith. It’s like the Church is the trunk of a great tree, and the Knight families are its branches. The branches can never fight the trunk. When a branch representing a certain Knight family withers, the trunk of the Church immediately grows a new one to replace it. This is what makes the human kingdoms so resilient.”

Sylvia’s expression flickered. “The Seven Great Paladin Families?” she ventured.

Victor nodded. “Testier supporting the Sasan Empire, Relgarrel’s legitimate daughter becoming Neo Wester’s partner and meddling in the Southern Continent’s territories—these are all examples of the Paladin families putting down roots and flourishing. I believe there must have been many similar examples throughout history.” He paused, then added with admiration, “His Majesty Inoc was truly an outstanding figure. The great tree he planted has stood for over nine thousand years. Even with the papal line sidelined, the Church’s clergy has always held the highest authority in the human kingdoms. The scattered secular lords are simply unable to stand against a unified Church, and the Church won’t allow the secular lords to unite into one great empire. If the secular regime were to unify, the conflict between the two sides would become irreconcilable, and the final result would be everyone’s demise.”

“Sharp confrontation is definitely not the solution to obtaining the power of the Lord of Radiance!” Victor declared forcefully.

Sophia thought it over and, while Victor was taking a sip of tea, asked, “My dear, I think… isn’t it fine the way it is?”

Victor shot her a look of disappointment, as if scolding a child who wouldn’t live up to expectations. He scoffed, “How is it fine? The Paladin families have already started developing their secular power. If we let them continue, how much support from divine arts will we get? If we don’t fight for the power of the Lord of Radiance, we’ll be completely marginalized!”

“That’s enough,” Sylvia said, setting down her silver spoon with dissatisfaction. “In the future, you two can close the door and have one teach while the other learns… Right now, I just want to know how you plan to use The Golden Company to seek the power of the Lord of Radiance?”

Sophia bit her lip lightly, giving Victor a flirtatious wink.

“Ahem…” Victor cleared his throat and continued, “I’ve discovered two insurmountable flaws in the Church. First, the more believers there are, the more clergy are needed, but the number of clergy can never be enough to rule over the corresponding total number of believers. Otherwise, after the Church killed the Black Emperor and completely seized control of secular political discourse, they wouldn’t have suffered repeated defeats at the hands of the beastmen… They simply don’t have the manpower to manage so many people.”

“Second, the rulers and the ruled are always in opposition. The Church, which relies on the power of faith, cannot stand in opposition to its believers. When believers face danger, they migrate to the rear. Production halts, defensive lines collapse, and the Knight families retreat along with them. It’s no use even if the Church is hopping mad.”

“The Church needs secular lords; the two sides are interdependent and mutually influential. Testier felt the secular lords were disobedient, so they propped up the Emperor Friedrich’s royal family. The Sasan Empire and the Radiant Knights support each other, and the Paladin families’ voice in the Church is growing ever louder, already showing a trend of overwhelming the factions of both Clement and Tamor.”

“As the Paladin families continue to expand their secular power, if we don’t take other measures, the influence of the Centaur Hills on the Church will only grow weaker. But The Golden Company can break through geographical limitations, infiltrating the major cities and towns of the human kingdoms and connecting countless freemen. She possesses unimaginable potential. For example, the Grayhollow Satyrs pose a serious threat to the Teutonic Duchy. If the Duchy falls, our Centaur Hills will also be affected. I don’t want to entrust our fate to the Radiant Knights and the Moon Bear family. I can use The Golden Company to send support to the barbarians and the Teutonic Duchy… With The Golden Company’s secular power being so strong, what would happen if she supported Clement?”

Sylvia’s eyes lit up. “I understand,” she said with a smile. “You want to use The Golden Company to support an agent within the Church.”

“Exactly.” Victor stood up, speaking with high spirits. “Developing The Golden Company is like digging a canal. Each member family is a reservoir node. Our control over The Golden Company’s business operations is like controlling a sluice gate, placing all the power in our hands. By helping Clement or Tamor gain more power, they will in turn help us control The Golden Company… Of course, I’m more inclined towards Clement, because he especially needs the support of secular forces, and the Warton Great Plains diocese is also in his hands.”

Victor turned his gaze to Sophia and sat back down. “Sophia, let me tell you what would happen to The Golden Company without my intervention. Various freemen unlicensed merchant organizations would pop up like mushrooms after the rain. Then the Holy See would establish freemen merchant guilds in every diocese, managed and taxed by the King. Your Golden Company would be brought under the King’s jurisdiction, and she still wouldn’t belong to you.”

“This is why I’m in a hurry. We must dig The Golden Company’s canals before things get out of hand, leaving no opportunity for other lords and Kings.”

Sylvia gently stroked Victor’s hand, gazing at him with a look full of tender affection. “Brilliant!” she praised. “My dear, I can almost foresee your success.”

“My dear cousin, what do you say?” Sylvia turned her head to look at Sophia, her gaze deep and probing.

Sophia gracefully rose, pushed her chair back a half-step, held the sides of her skirt in a mock curtsy, and bent her knees in a formal salute. “I am willing to join.”

“But I insist on retaining operational control of The Golden Company. I hope Your Highnesses will act from behind the scenes, according to the Family Guardian system.”

Sylvia rose and stepped forward, taking Sophia’s hand and helping her back to her chair. “Don’t be so formal,” she said warmly. “Your and Victor’s child will inherit The Golden Company. You two can discuss its affairs together. I won’t interfere or ask questions. If things take a turn, I will step in to clean up the mess.”

“Victor, you should show some sincerity. Withdraw the Bear Company and your mercenaries. That way, it will be easier for Sophia to gain the trust of Marquess Dwemick and Princess Anqi and quickly occupy two important trade hubs. As long as Stonetooth City and Bronze-Halberd City join The Golden Company, no other freemen unlicensed merchant organizations will be able to overcome their regional limitations.”

Victor frowned. “Without an armed force, The Golden Company will be like a fat piece of meat on a chopping block.”

“It’s just a temporary withdrawal,” Sylvia said. She then turned to Sophia. “Sophia, I must remind you, The Golden Company is particularly vulnerable to infiltration. If you want to control her, you must introduce another force to create an internal balance… And there’s no better choice than Victor’s men.”

“I agree. I will arrange it.” Sophia nodded in assent. She gave Victor a sweet smile and asked, both playfully and alluringly, “My Guardian, what is The Golden Company’s next step in its development?”

Victor spoke with complete confidence. “You’ll be in charge of the northbound route, and I’ll handle the eastbound route for now. Once you’ve opened the trade route to the Sasan Empire, I’ll hand over my entire trade network to you. Also, find a suitable opportunity soon to meet with Countess Dekeizer.”

“Lady Dori?” Sophia asked, puzzled.

“Yes.” Victor nodded. “Once you establish a cooperative relationship with her, you will enter Clement’s line of sight. After that… if I’m not mistaken, he will take the initiative to find you and discuss building a port on the shores of Lake Fies.”

Sylvia knitted her willow-like brows. “You’re planning to build a port for Neo Wester?”

“No, it’s for The Golden Company… The Golden Company must secure the shipping rights on the Goldwater River all the way to the sea!” Victor paused, a sly smile gracing his lips. “I suspect His Eminence Clement has some kind of connection to the Neo Wester family… because the port on Lake Fies is related to his Central Kingdom strategy. With the Pope’s help, the Goldwater River commercial shipping route will be in the palm of our hand.”

Sylvia wanted to press for more details, but the sound of high heels clicking on the floor came from the corridor outside.

A moment later, the door was pulled open from the outside. Trisley, as beautiful as a young girl in her white dress, leaned against the doorframe and asked coolly:

“Are you finished talking? If you are, please return my man to me.”

Chapter 541: No Regrets

The next morning, in the rear courtyard of Rose Manor.

Trisley sat on the stone steps of the corridor, one arm wrapped around her knees, the other propping up her chin. Her pale blue eyes were fixed on Victor in the distance, lost in a daze.

Wearing only a pair of knee-length breeches, Victor was practicing his Forging Method bare-chested on the lawn. His movements were fluid and continuous, revealing meticulously sculpted muscles that rippled with the beauty of strength and coordination.

After practicing the entire set of basic Forging Methods twice, Victor let out a long breath, concluding his morning exercise. He turned and walked toward Trisley, who was waiting for him.

As the sunlight cascaded over him, it cast a brilliant sheen on the beads of sweat on his skin. A faint blush suddenly crept onto Trisley’s fair, beautiful face. She quickly stood up, bent down to pick up the wool towel draped over the edge of a wooden bucket, and dipped it into the warm water inside. After wringing it out, she began to carefully and gently wipe Victor’s body.

“Why are you sweating?”

The Raging Wave Knight, who looked like a stunning sixteen-year-old girl, stood on her tiptoes, her eyelids half-closed, her long lashes trembling slightly. As she wiped Victor’s face, she tried to use the question to distract him and hide her own shyness.

Victor was well aware of Trisley’s shy and reserved nature and privately delighted in teasing her. But with the handmaidens of Rose Manor nearby, if he angered her, she would just toss the towel aside and walk away, and he would miss out on her gentle service.

“Sweating is a manifestation of the principles of our shared human and elven bloodlines. For mortals, sweating not only lowers body temperature but also expels waste from the body. It’s closely related to the properties of the water element. By replenishing fluids, it creates an internal and external cycle, somewhat similar to the void element interaction of a High-ranked Knight.”

Victor turned around to let Trisley wipe his back, explaining enthusiastically, “I’ve mastered the Surge talent, so my body passively interacts with the void water element, and I no longer need to sweat. This Forging Method I designed is specifically for ordinary soldiers. A part of it involves expelling waste through sweat, then replenishing with water and potions to repair internal organ damage and enhance vitality… Once I perfect it, long-term practice should allow ordinary soldiers to break through their physical limits and achieve twice the physical constitution of a normal person… Of course, the Forging Method is only complete with the right potions and diet… I demand that the corresponding potions be cheap enough for widespread use, keeping the cost of training an Elite Soldier under four hundred Gold Sol.”

“Darling, you’re truly amazing,” Trisley said, her eyes filled with adoration and her cheeks flushed red as she helped Victor put on his shirt.

Her bashful expression was especially endearing. Victor leaned down and stole a quick kiss from her small, pink lips. Unexpectedly, Trisley didn’t get angry. She took Victor’s arm and said in a whisper:

“Yesterday afternoon, Nicole and Narsen returned to Randell Fief… I was the one who told her to go back.”

“…” Victor was stunned into silence. Trisley, though cool and proud on the outside, was shy, gentle, and rather jealous on the inside. The previous night, terrified that Sophia would continue to monopolize Victor, she had brazenly burst into the reception room, interrupting his conversation with Sophia. Trisley would never have done such a thing if she didn’t love Victor to an extreme degree.

But Victor had never expected her to send Nicole away.

Had the tutor and disciple fallen out?

Victor felt a pang of displeasure, but in the end, Trisley had only sent her most prized student away for his sake. He suddenly realized he had no grounds to be angry with her, and a wave of guilt washed over him. He started to ponder how he would appease that big jar of vinegar, Nicole, when he returned to Randell Fief, to mend the rift between her and her tutor.

…Otherwise, there would be no peace in his own house!

Oblivious to her beloved’s worries, Trisley held his arm and walked deeper into the courtyard. As she walked, she spoke in a voice as soft as a mosquito’s buzz, “Nicole and I already agreed. I will go to Aerie Fortress to take that… Fertility Potion, and she will stay here with you. Nicole has been through the Trial of Life and Death and disturbed the Elemental Sea, so she has a chance to become a half-goldenized Raging Wave Knight… whereas I really need the Fertility Potion from Aerie Fortress. We heard from Sylvia that after taking it, you can’t use Aura for four years, and you also can’t… can’t… Anyway, you need to spend more time with me now. When I come back from Aerie Fortress, don’t come looking for me… Hmm, but you can’t ignore me either.”

So that’s what it was… Victor’s tangled feelings immediately smoothed out. He said cheerfully, “Why not let Nicole go to Aerie Fortress too?”

“Humph! The Augustes are asking for two hundred and sixty thousand Gold Sol, and they claim the cost of the Fertility Potion is definitely more than that.”

Trisley pouted her glossy pink lips and kicked at the lawn with her high-heeled shoe, then sighed. “If I take the Fertility Potion, the Centaur Hills will lose a High-ranked Knight… Whether in wealth or in Silver Knights, we can’t compare to the Augustes… It’s been almost seven years since the Ant-man plague. I wonder when the next one will break out.”

“It will definitely break out within eight years.” Victor nodded, holding Trisley’s small, soft hand. His gaze was sharp as he said, “The three-sided city walls are complete. We’re just waiting for those monsters to show up and get a taste of my Extraordinary Archery.”

Trisley smiled faintly. “It really feels like a dream. My partner is actually a Legendary-rank Highness… With you and Sylvia each guarding one high wall, and the other Silver Knights working together to hold the last one, even if the Ant-man tide is three times larger, they won’t be able to set foot in the Centaur Hills!”

Victor smiled and said, “We shouldn’t have a big problem dealing with the Ant-man plague, but we can’t let the Ant-men tie down all our High-ranked Knights in the Centaur Hills. There are many other challenges on the Southern Continent that will require their strength.”

Trisley nodded. “Don’t worry. In another four years, the Southern Fortress will be the first to be completed. We’ll only need to station four thousand soldiers to hold back the Ant-man tide with the fortress’s ballistae and trebuchets. Currently, the permanent population of the Centaur Hills is nearly eight hundred thousand, with one hundred and ninety thousand able-bodied hired laborers. We’ve already transferred over forty thousand of them to start construction on the central and northern fortresses, which are expected to be completed in ten years. If we can use rock bricks, the construction period could even be shortened.”

Victor turned his head and asked in surprise, “If you divert so many able-bodied men to build fortresses, what about the port?”

Trisley tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a distinct curve forming at the corner of her lips. “The land reclamation for the port is complete. The pier extends thirty meters out over the river and withstood last year’s flood season. The remaining construction can be handled by seven thousand craftsmen. We estimate that in fifteen years, we will have a port, four shipyards, and twenty docks… The family’s high-ranking female knights no longer need to take turns stationed at Port Rose. Are you disappointed?”

Victor paid no mind to Trisley’s little gloat. He frowned and said, “It will take us fifteen years to build warships? That’s too long…”

Trisley asked curiously, “What’s wrong? Is there a problem?”

“I want the Centaur Hills’ warships to enter Lake Fies within ten years to intimidate the Neo Wester family. Otherwise, I’m worried the Boreans will build a port and warships in Randt Imperial territory.” Victor shook his head, then asked, “How is the Auguste family’s port coming along? When will their warships be launched?”

“…Their plan is about the same as ours.” Trisley thought for a moment and said, “The fifteen-year plan wasn’t made randomly. By that time, the children of our Vassals and tenant households will have grown up. The number of Vassal soldiers will exceed thirty thousand, the tenant households’ sons will replace those useless mercenary soldiers, and the mercenary legion will number close to one hundred fifty thousand. The family’s power will be at its peak, and the war potential of the Centaur Hills will be greatly enhanced… Oh, right, our war beast legion will take another twenty years to take shape. Right now, it’s a bottomless pit; the five hundred thousand Gold Sol budget is almost gone. Enbise is so worried about the family’s finances he can’t sleep, and he’s even gained a whole size… If you suddenly want to change the plans, you’ll need money… I’m guessing that as soon as you voice your opinion, Enbise will come to you to borrow money.”

That damned fatty, he’s actually eyeing the gift money the Lord of Naville gave me… Victor complained internally, then said with a dry laugh, “I’m not the Guardian of the Centaur Hills right now. I want to have fun for a while longer… During the King’s wedding, I’ll try to persuade Aerie Fortress to get the Auguste family to adjust their strategic deployment, form a fleet as soon as possible, and take control of the waters of Lake Fies.” He paused, then changed the subject. “Darling, if you take the Fertility Potion, you’ll lose the power of a Silver Knight. Who will protect you while you’re in Blinor City?”

Trisley pursed her lips and sniffed. “I wanted Audel to accompany me, but Sylvia won’t allow any of the family’s high-ranking female knights to go to Blinor City ahead of time. she chose Bruce to go with me.”

“…” Victor was silent for two seconds before asking, “When do you leave?”

“At the end of this month.”

Victor calculated the time and said, “I happen to be sending Narsen to Aerie Fortress to teach a Forging Method for Mind Warriors. That guy isn’t very clever, and I’m worried he won’t be able to handle Aerie Fortress’s schemes. Could you postpone your trip by fifteen days and help me look after him… After Edward and Anna’s wedding celebration, we can all return to the Centaur Hills together.”

“Alright.” Trisley agreed with a nod. She hesitated for a moment, then added, “The Chapman family has reconciled with the Royal Family… Aerie Fortress withdrew the apprentice knights from Copper City, and Earl Chepman stirred up some trouble with a few families in the Southern Realm for a while. Then, Aerie Fortress sent an envoy to see Earl Chepman, expressing support for the Chapman family’s leadership over the Southern Realm and explaining that withdrawing Thorim’s apprentice knights was to clear the way for the Chapmans to take control of Copper City… They deliberately let the news reach the Centaur Hills… You should understand their intentions by now.”

Gambis’s Southern Realm was a core part of Aerie Fortress’s southern expansion strategy. If not for His Highness Randell, Aerie Fortress might have dismantled the bloodline family powers in Copper City. But Earl Chepman, riding on Victor’s prestige, had forced Aerie Fortress to compromise. Now that both sides had reached an understanding, there was nothing left for Victor to do.

In truth, Victor had never intended to meddle in the kingdom’s Southern Realm. The House of Randell simply didn’t have the strength to swallow an elephant. If he truly extended his hand into Copper City, he would only be drawn into the center of a vortex, unable to escape, without even getting a bite of the meat. He would just be propped up by the southern lords as a mascot.

Ports, canals, farms and pastures, Mithril, Thorium, refined iron, Purple Cane forests—Randell Fief had all these resources in abundance. Victor couldn’t care less about the kingdom’s Southern Realm. He only cared about Gillian.

From the look of things, Gillian would probably be the first of Victor’s intimate partners to leave him of her own accord.

Trisley’s eyes were filled with worry and pity. Although she was very jealous, she pitied her lover even more.

Victor reached out and hooked a finger under her chin, laughing heartily. “Darling, you’re overthinking it. I’m perfectly fine.”

Four days later, Sophia left Rose Manor to return to Blinor City. Victor finally breathed a sigh of relief. Being surrounded by three high-ranking female knights had left him mentally drained.

The Nature of a High-ranked Knight was a bit like that of a Dragon; even the closest kin wouldn’t live under the same roof for long. Trisley had followed Sylvia since childhood, acting as her partner and Protection Knight, so of course, the two of them got along fine. But that little jar of vinegar simply couldn’t stand the sight of Sophia and couldn’t resist making sarcastic remarks at the Marchioness Wimbledon’s expense.

And it’s not like Sophia was a pushover, either.

The two Raging Wave Knights engaged in endless scheming, with His Highness Randell as the focus of it all. Sylvia would even join in on the fun from time to time. Victor was running around putting out fires, and his head felt two sizes bigger. He secretly swore never to let his high-ranking female knight lovers live in the lord’s residence at Silver Moon Manor at the same time.

The blame lay with Sylvia, who had no sense of her role as his lady, but on second thought, High-ranked Knights truly lacked a concept of strict family hierarchy. If a silver female knight were to transmigrate into an ancient family on Earth, if anyone dared to act high and mighty or lecture them about rules, they’d be slapped to death on the spot.

One could only say that Victor had not yet learned how to handle relationships with extraordinary Knight partners. But why should His Highness Randell be bound by partner principles?

The day after Sophia left the Centaur Hills, Victor and Father Dayn embarked on their journey back to Randell Fief.

Seven days later, at dusk, Victor stopped at the border between Randell Fief and the duchy of York. He dismounted his warhorse and said to Dayn:

“I plan to go to Purple Hibiscus Manor in the Chapman territory by myself. You can take Caligula and the others back.”

The High-ranked Priest looked up at the dimming sky, dumbfounded. “At this hour, you’re sneaking off alone to have a tryst with the Young Lady of the Chapman family? That’s not appropriate. You’re a Highness now…”

“Can’t a Highness have a sincere love?” Victor shot Dayn a disdainful look.

“It’s not that you can’t have it… it’s that it simply doesn’t exist.” Dayn shook his head vigorously, then looked Victor up and down suspiciously. “You’re not planning to coerce the Young Lady of the Chapman family, are you?”

Victor was furious. “How could I possibly coerce a Silver-rank female knight? I have no desire to be embraced by the Supreme Lord before I’ve even come of age.”

“Then what are you planning to do?”

Victor was silent for a moment, then smiled. “The outcome doesn’t matter. But as Gillian’s man, I have to at least make an effort, so that neither of us will have any regrets.”

Chapter 542: Luring Away

The Purple Hibiscus tree was also known as the Oil Tree, or oil palm. It was a valuable cash crop, mainly used for producing Fire oil. The Purple Hibiscus tree itself was also a high-quality fuel. When smelting Adamantine-Mithril alloys, blacksmiths had to add Oilwood to the furnace to raise the temperature.

A five-year-old Purple Hibiscus tree could yield Oilwood seeds worth forty Silver Sols annually. The wood from a Purple Hibiscus tree older than twenty years produced very little smoke when burned, making it the preferred fuel for Nobles to warm themselves in winter. Each old tree could be sold for a high price of at least thirty Gold Sols.

Valuable as the Purple Hibiscus tree was, its appearance was also unique. The trunk was tall and straight with no branches, and oval-shaped purple leaves grew from the top, curving downwards in all directions. Viewed from above, it looked like a large, blooming purple flower. However, few Nobles were willing to live near Purple Hibiscus trees, as their fruit and flowers always emitted an odor that made one cover their nose. This was especially true in the summer when the Purple Hibiscus flowers bloomed; the stench, reminiscent of dead rats, could be smelled from a great distance, attracting countless flies and insects to buzz around the crown of the tree.

Compared to the value of the Oil Tree, Gillian couldn’t care less about a mere strange smell. When Victor built the noble manor for her, she insisted on using Oil Trees instead of ornamental vegetation and named it Purple Hibiscus Manor.

In reality, Purple Hibiscus Manor was essentially a large agricultural estate, with eight hundred mu of Oilwood forest, four thousand mu of farmland and pastures, and a medium-sized stream reservoir. It was fully equipped with facilities like breeding pens, a mill, warehouses, a blacksmith shop, animal pens and stables, and farmhouses. Within this area of over five thousand mu, the only highlight was a garden villa in the southwest corner, occupying less than sixty mu of land.

Only in this remote corner could one feel the artistic atmosphere and luxurious refinement of a noble’s leisure manor.

At this moment, the silvery moon hung high in the sky. The buildings within Purple Hibiscus Manor were dark, save for the master bedroom on the third floor of the garden villa, which was lit by candlelight.

Inside the spacious and luxurious bedroom, dozens of lizard-oil candles were lit. Gillian, dressed in a short nightgown, was sitting on a calfskin sofa with her breathtakingly long legs propped up on the coffee table. In the candlelight, the shadows played across her strong yet graceful figure, filling it with an indescribable charm.

At this moment, Gillian’s long, phoenix eyes scanned the lizard-oil candles on the silver candelabras one by one, her gaze finally landing on an exquisitely beautiful woman on the opposite sofa.

“Saliste, we don’t need candles to see each other. Lighting seventy-two candles is a complete waste!”

The lady had chestnut hair and gray-green eyes. Her features were impeccably exquisite, her skin as white as snow and smooth. A high-bridged nose paired with thin lips gave one an impression of a strong and confident woman. She sat with her legs crossed gracefully, her arms spread out to rest on the armrests on either side of the sofa. Though she was on the guest’s sofa, she looked as if she were sitting on a throne.

She was none other than the Guardian of the Chepman family, Countess Chapman, Gillian’s mother, the Raging Wave Knight—Saliste Chapman.

“Your father saves money just so I can spend it.” The Countess’s smile was elegant and enchanting, her tone righteous.

Gillian tilted her head back, looked at the ceiling, and rolled her eyes, muttering to herself, “In a little while, I’ll have someone hide all the candelabras. Let’s see how you’ll waste candles then…”

Saliste said lightly, “I didn’t rush from Blue Goose Keep to Purple Hibiscus Manor just to light some candles. And you didn’t put out these exquisite candelabras for me, either.”

Gillian’s expression faltered for a moment. Her amber eyes darted around as she mumbled, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Usually, don’t you keep the silver candelabras hidden in your vault?”

“Ha, silverware needs to be taken out and polished often, so it won’t tarnish and can be sold for a good price. I was just polishing the candelabras today, and you happened to arrive…”

Saliste brought her legs together, shifting into a softer, more amiable posture. She smiled and said, “Seven days ago, His Highness Randell left Rose Manor. He is currently on his way back to the Randell Fief.”

Gillian’s eyes lit up. She immediately put down her legs, which had been propped on the coffee table, and leaned forward, asking with irrepressible joy, “Really? Then his carriage will be back in five days…”

“No wonder this news makes you so happy. Ever since His Highness Randell returned to the Centaur Hills, you’ve been waiting for him at Purple Hibiscus Manor. You’ve been waiting for sixteen days… How much longer do you plan to wait?”

Gillian’s expression turned cold. Staring at the Countess, she asked through gritted teeth, “What do you mean?”

“His Highness Randell spent nine days at Rose Manor, meeting with each of his partners. He still has many matters to attend to when he returns to the Randell Fief, so he might not rush over for a tryst with you… Perhaps you’ll have to wait a few more days.”

Saliste’s tone shifted as she mocked her daughter bluntly, “Of course, I’m sure you two will meet… In any case, you’ll be the last lover he sees.”

Gillian propped her legs back up on the redwood coffee table and leaned against the soft sofa cushion. “My dear Saliste,” she said languidly, “I’m long accustomed to the way you talk. I don’t care about your sarcasm in the slightest… So what if I’m the last lover Victor meets? To him, I am the one and only Gillian Chapman… And what does it matter if we have to wait a few more days to see each other? If he doesn’t come to Purple Hibiscus Manor, I can go to Silver Moon Manor…”

“Then why didn’t you go to Rose Manor to be the first to congratulate your lover on his promotion to Highness, like the others did?”

Gillian raised an eyebrow and said huffily, “That’s none of your business.”

The Countess smiled and shook her head, saying softly, “My dear, you know very well that you are not a high-ranking female knight of the Centaur Hills, while Victor is a Highness of the Centaur Hills. You are a Silver Knight, and he is a Highness with the Gold Bloodline. You won’t have children. Continuing to be entangled like this will only bring embarrassment to you both… Let him go. It’s your right, and it’s a way out that preserves both of your dignities.”

“I won’t… I absolutely will not!”

Gillian puffed out her cheeks. The Countess asked, amused, “Why?”

An idea flashed through Gillian’s mind, and she came up with a powerful reason. “I heard Victor brought back a lot of treasure from Naville, enough to fill more than a dozen four-wheeled carriages… I’m waiting for the courtship gift he prepared for me.” As she spoke, her eyes grew brighter and brighter, and the corners of her mouth curved into a radiant smile.

Saliste glanced sideways at her ecstatic daughter and said with disdain, “How many gold coins could a courtship gift be worth? Five thousand… or fifty thousand? In a few years, we will move to Copper City and become the Lords of the Southern Realm of Gambis. Can the enterprise you are to inherit be measured in money?”

Gillian looked at her mother with pity in her eyes. “Does that conflict with me receiving a courtship gift from Victor? He owes me a lot of courtship gifts, and this time, I’ll make him give them all to me, hmph!”

Seeing her daughter’s charmingly naive expression, Saliste couldn’t help but chuckle. She shook her head and sighed, “My darling, it’s not the courtship gift you can’t bear to part with, but the person who gives it… At your age, you should taste the sweetness of love. I don’t want to stop you, not at all. But as your mother, I can’t watch my child lose her future. You must understand, His Highness Randell does not belong to you. He belongs to the Queen of Roses, to the Centaur Hills… or rather, the Centaur Hills belong to him.”

“How could a mere Randell Viscounty be worthy of a Highness? Lady Sylvia has forbidden the House of Randell from recruiting knights from outside, and required the families of the Centaur Hills to implement similar policies. Now, the House of Randell can integrate smoothly into the political circles of the Centaur Hills without any obstacles or major turmoil… Lady Rose began paving the way for His Highness Randell to rule the Centaur Hills eight years ago… And we have made no preparations whatsoever to welcome His Highness Randell… I’m talking about His Highness Randell, not the Baron Victor Wimbledon of the past.”

Gillian said angrily, “Why must you mix love with family interests? Does my love really have to be sacrificed for the benefit of the family?”

“My dear Miss Chapman, you have it backward.”

Saliste crossed her legs and said calmly, “The political systems established by the Knight-Nobles are all created to serve the Knight-Nobles. Primogeniture, the Guardian System, the Principle of Silence, the Partner Principle, and so on, all reflect one core concept—respect for power. In a family, an apprentice knight receives the respect due to an apprentice knight, a Knight receives the respect due to a Knight, and the same goes for Silver Knights and Gold Knights. A Gold Knight can kill a Knight who offends him in battle, but he cannot strip his opponent of the respect they are due, for example, by allowing them to surrender.”

“This respect serves only one purpose—to clearly define oneself.”

“My daughter,” Saliste paused, her voice softening, “one day, you will undergo the baptism of the Elemental Sea. It will wash over your soul, cleansing your emotions and instincts. If you lose your sense of self, you will be assimilated by the Elemental Sea and become a part of the origin of the world… Family interests are the interests of us Knights. If one day, the family requires you to sacrifice your own will and abandon your Path as a Knight, I urge you to forsake the family without hesitation. If love becomes an obstacle that causes you to lose yourself, I also urge you to give up love without hesitation… The Partner Principle of Knights exists to protect this very right of yours.”

“A High-ranked Knight enjoys love, but is never lost in it, never bound by it.”

Gillian grumbled, “Victor isn’t a High-ranked Knight…” Then she added defensively, “And he still owes me a lot of courtship gifts.”

The Countess said in exasperation, “How did I end up with such an idiotic daughter… You are the heir of the Chapman family, sworn to fealty to the Auguste royal family. He is the Highness of the Centaur Hills. The foundation of mutual trust between you is already gone. He cannot dissolve your partner relationship, but he can distance himself from you, give you the cold shoulder… If you think being with him will allow you to continue on your Knight’s Path, then I will let your little brother take your place as heir, and you can go pledge your allegiance to the Centaur Hills. But the problem is, can you have children? If you cannot become a mother, your life will be incomplete. How can you face the baptism of the Elemental Sea while harboring such regret? Do you think you’re Princess Royal Roland?”

Gillian stiffened her neck and said stubbornly, “You’re not him, so how would you know he doesn’t trust me? I trust him, and he knows it, so he trusts me too… It’s that simple for us. He would never ask me to give up my family’s interests, and I would never betray him for my family’s interests.”

“You are too naive, to actually presume to know the thoughts of a Highness.” The Countess shook her head and said, “I’ll bet he won’t come to see you of his own accord. That would be the most obvious sign of him distancing himself…”

The words had barely left her mouth when a faint breeze suddenly appeared beside Gillian, rustling her hair like a lover’s caress.

“Victor!”

Gillian leaped up in delighted surprise, ran barefoot to the window, pushed open the wooden shutters, and jumped out without a moment’s hesitation. Saliste was inwardly horrified. Her gray-green eyes turned a deep, emerald green. She rose and walked to the open window to look out. Several hundred meters away, a tall figure stood bathed in moonlight atop a thatched shed. Gillian, in her short nightgown, darted swiftly toward the shed, then leaped high into the air, her graceful body landing in the uninvited guest’s arms. The roof of the shed instantly caved in, and the two of them fell right into the hut.

At that moment, alerted guards were patrolling with hounds that barked incessantly. Warning whistles rose and fell, and torches began to light up as the entire manor was roused.

Saliste summoned the villa’s steward and jutted her chin toward the solitary thatched hut. “What is that place?” she asked.

The steward looked up and replied respectfully, “A warehouse for storing dry hay.”

“…A hay warehouse.” The Countess’s expression remained unchanged, still noble and dignified. She gave a faint command, “Call off the alert. Tell them all to go back to sleep.”

“Yes.”

The steward bowed and retreated. The Countess then asked, “Are there rats inside?”

“Well… we have two cats in the warehouse.” The steward’s answer indirectly confirmed that there were, in fact, rats.

“…Heh heh.” The Countess finally broke into a smile. She shook her head and muttered, almost inaudibly, “Love…”

“Prepare my horse and summon my retinue. I am returning to Blue Goose Keep.”

On the haystack in the warehouse, Gillian carefully frisked Victor’s clothes and pants. Then she turned back, pressed her forehead against his, stared into his unusual, dark gold eyes, and raised her eyebrows to ask:

“Where’s my courtship gift?”

“…Aren’t I it?”

Gillian clung to Victor like an octopus and wheedled, “Then turn your eyes gold for me.”

Chapter 543: Reactivation

At noon, daylight shone through a hole in the warehouse roof, illuminating the haystack. Gillian lifted her head from Victor’s arm and gazed at his face, an inexplicable emotion stirring in her heart.

As the Chapman family’s heir, she was no stranger to the rules of politics. The Chapman family belonged to the Thorim lineage, giving them a legitimate claim to inherit Copper City and lead the families of the Southern Realm, but the Gambis Royal Family preferred to break up the Thorim coalition of lords. The reason Aerie Fortress supported the Chapman family’s exclusive control over Copper City was to prevent Centaur Hills from meddling in the kingdom’s Southern Realm. In a way, Gillian’s partner relationship with Victor had prompted Aerie Fortress to compromise with the Chapman family.

Now that both sides had reached a consensus, any interaction between Gillian and Victor became particularly sensitive.

The partner principles were a recognized matrimonial tradition among the Knight-Nobles, seemingly unbound by region or faction. Copper City and Centaur Hills were part of the same kingdom and not hostile to one another, but His Highness Randall’s political influence was now extraordinary. His every move would be interpreted by various factions as a different political signal.

The Chapmans had just pledged their loyalty to the Royal Family, yet the Chapman heir was immediately having a tryst with His Highness Randall. What would Aerie Fortress think of the Chapman family? And what would the families of the southern lords think?

The Southern Realm families were a disorderly mob. The Chapmans needed time to consolidate the bloodline lords of Copper City, establish order in the kingdom’s Southern Realm, and prepare for the expansion south of the river. However, there would always be restless troublemakers looking to stir the pot for their own gain. The Chapman family could not afford to give them any false ideas.

Under these circumstances, it was inappropriate for Gillian to be in close contact with His Highness Randall. At the very least, she had to avoid any suspicion during this period. When Victor invited her to be a guest at Silver Moon Manor, she should have politely declined; when Victor came to the Chapman territory to see her, she should have found a way to avoid him… After a few times, Victor would stop seeking her out, and the trust between them would truly vanish.

So, Gillian had left her family’s capital city and waited anxiously in their love nest for news of her lover’s carriage, planning to secretly meet him on his way back. That was why the Countess had come to persuade her to give up, telling her plainly that if she dared to go to Silver Moon Manor, her right of inheritance would be revoked.

Though Gillian was unwilling to admit it, she knew her mother’s advice was correct. From the moment Victor was elevated to a Highness, her romance was destined to end.

No one would have ever imagined that Victor would come to Purple Hibiscus Manor to secretly meet her, all by himself. A Highness of a Gold Bloodline having a clandestine meeting with his High-ranked Knight lover was something Gillian had never even heard of. Victor’s actions had no political repercussions for her, yet he himself had shouldered an unimaginable risk, which spoke of his immense trust in her.

Even now, Gillian was enveloped in a profound sense of happiness. She desperately wanted to abandon everything and return to Centaur Hills with Victor. But seeing his dark gold, heterochromatic eyes, she regained the rationality of a High-ranked Knight.

Extraordinary beings despised reckless, all-consuming love, considering it a base instinct of lower beings. It was like a moth to a flame; no matter how mortals romanticized love stories, they could not hide the baseness of being enslaved by instinct. Only a free soul was worthy of respect.

Victor had risked coming to see her, but it was certainly not to enslave her with the sweetness of love. A silver female knight was not worth such an effort from His Highness Randall. Victor did it simply for Gillian. Chapman.

If she lost herself, she would lose her love with Victor.

The hay warehouse, the hole in the roof, the sunlight pouring down, the messy haystacks, the old cat curled in a corner, her handsome and noble lover, and the straw stuck in his hair… Gillian was suddenly struck by a feeling that was both real and unreal. She hugged Victor tightly and smiled. “I heard that men and women from the manor have trysts in the fodder warehouse… Does that mean what we’re doing is also a tryst?”

Victor held Gillian in his arms and teased lazily, “You heard? You mean you were eavesdropping, right?”

“Pah, I would never be so bored.” Gillian blew a puff of air into Victor’s ear and explained, “When I have nothing to do, I just count my gold coins in the vault… I just happened to overhear when someone was reporting to the steward… I never ask about such things.” She paused, then asked curiously, “Victor, do you think the love of lower-class people is the same as that of Knights?”

Victor chuckled. “How could it be the same… They can live together for long periods, and the easiest person to bully is the one right beside you. If their partners could, like a Knight, generate several tons of force with a clash of their arms, they too would understand respect and distance. So the difference between a Knight and lower-class people lies in power.”

Gillian pressed on, “How do lower-class people bully their partners?”

“When you live together for a long time, it’s inevitable that you’ll want to dominate the other and make them listen to you. Husbands hitting their wives and wives hitting their husbands are both very common.”

“Then aren’t ordinary women at a huge disadvantage?”

Victor shook his head and smiled. “Not entirely. A smart woman can always get her husband to be completely obedient… Just look at Narsen. His strength far surpasses that of an ordinary Knight, yet he always does whatever Linda says.”

Gillian was intrigued. Her eyes darted around, and she snuggled up to Victor, saying in a treacly voice, “Your Highness, you know so much.”

Victor was instantly amused. This vixen usually put on the air of a cold and aloof queen, yet she also knew how to use gentle tactics. She was a natural.

“This doesn’t seem like the Gillian I know.”

With bits of wheat straw still in her hair, Gillian gently rubbed her fair, smooth legs against Victor’s and said coquettishly, “I want to try an ordinary person’s love, too.”

Victor clicked his tongue. “You just said that people often come to this warehouse for trysts… and that someone reported it to your steward?”

Gillian’s expression changed. She immediately scrambled off Victor and began searching for her clothes in the hay.

Seeing Gillian grabbing a shirt and trying to put it on, Victor grew anxious. “Hey, that’s not your shirt…”

“I don’t care. It’s your fault for tearing my nightgown last night.”

“…I’ve told you so many times to wear a Spider silk nightgown, but you insist on wearing that fine linen short… alright, it’s all my fault… Darling, listen to me, you won’t be able to fit into my shirt.”

Gillian exhaled completely, but she still couldn’t button up the front of the shirt. She had no choice but to take it off, toss it in Victor’s face, and huff in annoyance, “You have to compensate me with a long, Spider silk nightgown… And what am I supposed to do now? Quickly, think of something.”

As Victor put on his shirt and trousers, he said, “I’ll go get you some clothes from the garden villa.”

“No, no, you can’t let anyone know we had a tryst in the warehouse last night… Otherwise, it won’t be as fun.” Gillian lay on the haystack, kicking her shapely legs in the air, and giggled. “Go to the villa and steal a set of clothes for me.”

“No problem.”

Victor got fully dressed, jumped down from the haystack, and pulled on his boots. Before leaving, he looked back at Gillian on the hay and said slyly, “While I’m out stealing clothes, what will you do if someone comes in to pitchfork the hay?”

“What do ordinary people usually do?” Gillian asked with a frown.

“I’d guess they hide in the haystack.”

“That’s simple.”

Gillian gave a slight wiggle of her beautiful body and sank into the haystack, leaving only her head exposed. “Is this okay?” she asked.

Victor looked at her coolly enchanting face, suppressed a laugh, and nodded repeatedly in approval. Gillian bit her lip and ducked her head into the hay as well.

Outside the warehouse, the sun was shining brightly, and Purple Hibiscus Manor was bustling with people. Even for a Gold Knight, sneaking into the garden villa under so many watchful eyes would be a difficult task. But Victor possessed extraordinary Perception, and combined with his familiarity with the manor’s layout and the guards’ patrol routes, he easily slipped past countless eyes and ears and into his and Gillian’s love nest.

To his surprise, there was no one in the villa. Full of suspicion, Victor climbed to the third floor, pushed open the door to the master bedroom, and saw a set of ladies’ hunting attire laid out neatly on the bed. It was obvious the Countess Chapman had made arrangements for them.

“How boring.”

Victor muttered, pouted, then rolled up Gillian’s clothes and slipped back to the warehouse just as stealthily as he had left.

The two teased and cuddled for quite a while longer before they left the memorable haystack warehouse hand in hand. The surrounding farmers’ jaws dropped in astonishment when they saw their mistress and her lover emerge from the fodder warehouse. Gillian, of course, paid them no mind and, holding onto Victor’s arm, returned to the garden villa.

For the next stretch of time, Victor and Gillian were inseparable. They fished, collected goose eggs, picked fruits and vegetables, teased the cats and dogs, cooked, and did laundry in the manor, living the life of an ordinary married couple.

Three days later, the resident priest of Earl Chapman’s domain hurried to Purple Hibiscus Manor. He urged Victor to return to his own fief immediately and demanded that he leave the same way he had arrived. In short, no one could know that His Highness Randall had secretly entered another family’s territory without the Church’s notice; otherwise, Father Dayn would be in big trouble.

With that, Victor’s objective was achieved. He believed it wouldn’t be long before the fantastic tale of His Highness Randall’s tryst with the Young Lady of the Chapman family became the talk of the town. This was clearly not in line with the conduct of great nobles, but it wasn’t political either; it was purely a juicy piece of gossip for noble ladies and debutantes to relish. There was no need for Aerie Fortress or the Chapman family to continue monitoring Victor and Gillian’s normal interactions. And the lord families of the Southern Realm could forget about using his partner relationship with Gillian to stir up trouble.

That evening, Victor bid Gillian farewell and returned to Randall Fief alone. He didn’t alert anyone, but quietly made his way to the Alchemy Tower cavern in Hill Secret Fortress.

Broken stones were scattered across the floor of the inner cave. Victor’s eyes shone with a golden light in the darkness. It was time to verify the results of the second repair of Alchemy Tower No. 7.

He activated x-3 to calm his turbulent emotions, then turned his head and asked the Crouching Ox Militiaman beside him in a deep voice, “Bull, the relic crystal I had you bring back, is it well hidden?”

Bull replied, “Yes, My lord. I’ve followed your instructions, placed it in a refined iron box, and buried it five meters deep in the furthest corner of the lower camp.”

While collecting the Naville Rune Crystal, Victor had discovered a relic crystal from the Alchemical Empire that was entirely yellow and inscribed with tiny runes. Unsure of what effect it might have on the Alchemy Tower, Victor had cautiously ordered Bull and the others to bring the crystal back from Naville to Hill Secret Fortress and bury it deep underground instead of touching it directly.

He was about to activate Alchemy Tower No. 7. To be on the safe side, Victor decided not to retrieve the relic crystal for the time being.

“Step back.”

Bull retreated two meters. Victor extended his right hand and, with a thought, activated the Rune Crystal within his body. Four elemental runes materialized from the void, circling around Victor’s long, slender fingers. The four colors of light—yellow, red, blue, and green—illuminated the pool in the cave, reflecting a dazzling display of light and shadow.

The four elemental runes quickly fused into a single, diamond-shaped crystal shrouded in a luminous mist. As if drawn by an unseen force, it floated to a position directly above the rubble, the point where the four void elements converged.

The shattered stone fragments levitated into the air, reassembling into a complete altar. The strange phenomenon within the cave abruptly ceased, and it returned to its original state.

Victor eagerly connected to the Tower Spirit in his mind:

“King?”

“My lord, I am here.”

King’s voice rang in his mind. Victor finally relaxed, let out a light whistle, and commanded, “Report the basic status of Alchemy Tower No. 7.”

“As you command,” King responded. “Alchemical Empire First-Level Authority, Alchemy Tower No. 7. Total Soul Fire: 14,031. Remaining Soul Fire: 3,103. Remaining Resources: 70,300 Gold Sol. Controlling: 6 Alchemical Dragon-Lizards, 421 Alchemical militia, 75 Alchemical Warhounds, 950 Alchemical auxiliary soldiers, 0 alchemical crows.”

The total Soul Fire increased from the original 12,380 to 14,031, an increase of 1,651. It seems the Alchemy Tower in Naville had residual Soul Fire. But why was Alchemy Tower No. 7 able to absorb it? I was away for too long, so all the alchemical crows died out, and the warhounds probably don’t have much time left either. I must prioritize replenishing these two units… Though perhaps it’s not that urgent. The forest falcons, red-eyed crows, green-eyed eagles, sentinel hounds, and guard hounds that Imosen has been breeding can replace the roles of the alchemical crows and warhounds.

Victor reined in his wandering thoughts, suppressed his excitement, and asked, “Report on repaired and newly added Alchemy Tower functions!”

“Memory upload function repaired. New element adjustment function added. One new alchemical combat unit added… All others remain unchanged!”

There was a strange fluctuation in the consciousness King transmitted, but Victor overlooked it, completely immersed in a state of wild joy.

Chapter 544: An Uncomfortable Tower Spirit

The memory upload function was one of the core components of Alchemy Tower No. 7. When an alchemical creature died, it would upload its experiences from the last five minutes before death, along with its location, to the Alchemy Tower. This meant that Victor, by connecting his consciousness to the King, could understand what was happening thousands of kilometers away in real time, unrestricted by space or time.

For example, an alchemical crow could search for a Hydra Lizard’s nest according to preset instructions. Its flight speed was fast, and its high-altitude perspective was extremely broad; five minutes was enough time to scout and memorize a large area. Once it found its target, it would launch a suicidal attack, and Victor would immediately receive the images the alchemical crow saw before its death, allowing him to pinpoint the Hydra Lizard’s nest.

If the Alchemy Tower lacked the memory upload function, an alchemical crow that found a Hydra Lizard’s nest would have to fly all the way back. Setting aside the risk of accidental death mid-journey, it could only convey simple information, a far cry from the details of real-time footage.

By the same token, with the footage of the Hydra Lizard nest transmitted by the alchemical crow, Victor could dispatch Alchemical militia and Alchemical Warhounds to probe the Hydra Lizard. Through their uploaded death-frames, he could directly observe the creature’s habits, fighting style, and innate abilities.

In other words, Victor could now send several alchemical creature scout squads through the Great Lizard Marsh, into the Endless Forest, to search for the Ant-men’s main nest; or, he could send alchemical humans to infiltrate the Arreat Plateau and investigate the Grayhollow Satyrs; or he could search for the Elves, scout the monstrous tribes of the Southern Continent… and so on.

On the other hand, the memory upload function would collect the skills learned and mastered by the alchemical humans, enriching the content of related skill plug-ins or generating new ones. For example, Tournans’ creations, the Gryphon Combat Technique and the Gray Wolf Combat Technique. Knowledge such as new potion formulas, new forging methods, new construction techniques, and even skills in papermaking, animal husbandry, and animal taming learned by the alchemical auxiliary soldiers would be added to the gathering, forging, and construction skill plug-ins respectively. Newly created alchemical auxiliary soldiers would then be proficient in the relevant skills.

The current Alchemy Tower No. 7 possessed the ability to gather information, learn, and evolve, much like a “living” alchemical creature.

With the memory upload function being so powerful, Victor was even more expectant of the newly added alchemical combat units and the element adjustment function.

“King, report on the new alchemical combat unit.”

The Tower Spirit responded, “The Alchemical Soldier, based on a human male template, has 20 points of Physique, 15 points of Spirit, 15 points of Perception, and 6 points of Life. Its service life is seven years. It costs 11,820 Gold Sols, takes thirty-six hours to create, can be loaded with five skills, and possesses four talents: Learning, Combat Acuity, Vital Tenacity, and Active Adaptation.”

“Combat Acuity: Alchemical Soldiers have an intuitive, mind-level connection with each other, and they are born with an understanding of how to fight cooperatively with their own kind. This talent is itself a form of combat intuition, and Alchemical Soldiers also possess combat intuition, allowing them to react quickly to different combat situations.”

“Vital Tenacity: Alchemical Soldiers have ample stamina, tough muscles, and a bone strength comparable to an Ogre’s. They can withstand severe injuries while maintaining mobility, and possess a slight Elemental Resistance, minor self-healing, and tolerance to hunger and thirst, allowing them to adapt to different survival environments.”

“Active Adaptation: Alchemical Soldiers can actively adjust their Physique and Perception attributes based on actual needs, becoming stronger or more agile to adapt to complex combat and survival situations. The maximum adjustment is three points. The total attribute points remain unchanged, as do the Spirit and Life attributes. Physique can reach a maximum of 23 points, with Perception at a minimum of 12. Alternatively, Physique can be a minimum of 17 points, with Perception at a maximum of 18. Active Adaptation can also adjust Elemental Resistance. By weakening the other three resistances, a single Elemental Resistance can be boosted to a maximum of 12%, with the others dropping to zero. The adjustment is instantaneous, with a cooldown of forty-five minutes.”

The talents of alchemical creatures were characteristically interconnected, and the Alchemical Soldier was no exception. Victor envisioned them in battle: several Alchemical Soldiers forming a combat squad, using their Combat Acuity to quickly adjust their individual Physique and Perception attributes and boost a single Elemental Resistance. They could transform into different types of combat units to deal with different targets and environments—strength-based tanks, balanced warriors, and agile hunters—cooperating to achieve a rich variety of tactical combinations.

Clearly, the Alchemical Soldier was a basic alchemical combat unit, and it fell into the category of extraordinary creatures. As a product of the Alchemical Empire, Victor had no doubt about their value in war.

However, a service life of only seven years was just ridiculous, wasn’t it?

Victor’s expression flickered as he asked through gritted teeth, “The Alchemical militia only has 3 points of Life, yet their service life is fifteen years. The Alchemical Soldier has 6 points of Life, but their service life is only seven years, not even half that of the militia! Why is that?”

“My lord, the concentration of the water element in an Alchemical Soldier is related to their Vital Tenacity talent. The concentration of the water element related to their lifespan is only 1.5, which is why their service life is seven years. In truth, as consumables of war, Alchemical Soldiers do not require a long lifespan,” the King explained in Victor’s mind.

Victor sighed. “Then they’re not very cost-effective… For the same money, I could make ten Alchemical militiamen. That’s ten pairs of eyes, ten pairs of ears, and ten pairs of hands and feet. More than enough to take down a single Alchemical Soldier.”

The King said, “However, the combat power of an Alchemical Soldier is far greater than that of an Alchemical militiaman, and they have five skill slots, whereas the militia only have four.”

Victor scoffed resentfully, “Ha… so one skill slot costs me over ten thousand Gold Sols? I’ve long known how the Alchemical Empire fell… they went broke!”

“The combat prowess of the Alchemical Soldiers is indeed something to look forward to, especially their cooperative fighting ability… But I must tell you, warriors who haven’t ignited the fire of the mind are all weak. The difference between them and a Knight lies in the application of power and nuanced control, not physical attributes and extraordinary talents… Any initial-rank Knight can pick up any weapon and master it instantly. With the same shield bash, an initial-rank Knight can unleash a strike of four or five tons in an instant. An Alchemical Soldier’s shield bash wouldn’t exceed three tons. The moment they clash, the Knight would immediately slice off the Alchemical Soldier’s head.”

His enthusiasm dampened, Victor shook his head and changed the subject. “Forget it… Tell me about the element adjustment function.”

“As you command, my lord,” the King replied. “The element adjustment function can increase an alchemical creature’s elemental attributes, but not its Life attribute. The rule is, for every 1 point increase in Spirit, Physique and Perception also increase by 1 point. However, this requires additional resources… For every 1-point upgrade to the Spirit attribute, the base cost increases by 60%, with subsequent increases compounding.”

An alchemical creature’s Spirit attribute was for driving its body, talents, and perception; it had nothing to do with the power of the mind. Even a Dragon Warrior with a Spirit attribute of 40 couldn’t ignite the fire of the mind. But a Dragon Warrior could transform into a giant draconic monster, with its strength and perception increasing to terrifying levels. This showed how important the Spirit attribute was for alchemical creatures.

Victor’s eyes suddenly lit up. He asked urgently, “What do you mean by ‘compounding’? Use an Alchemical militiaman as an example. How much would it cost in total to increase its Spirit by 1 point? What about 2 points, or 5 points?”

The King said, “Currently, creating one Alchemical militiaman costs 1,188 Gold Sols. Increasing its Spirit by 1 point would cost 1,901 Gold Sols. Increasing it by 2 points would cost 3,041 Gold Sols. Increasing it by 5 points would cost 12,457 Gold Sols. At that point, the Alchemical militiaman’s attributes would be 22 points of Physique, 15 of Spirit, 15 of Perception, and 3 of Life, with a service life of fifteen years and a creation time of thirty hours.”

Victor quickly calculated the adjustment price for an alchemical auxiliary soldier. An auxiliary soldier upgraded twice would have 12 points of Physique, 9 of Spirit, 9 of Perception, and 3 of Life, costing 1,254 Gold Sols. It wasn’t as cost-effective as creating an Alchemical militiaman, but it occupied one less Soul Fire unit, making it suitable for a swarm strategy.

A level-four Alchemical militiaman was not much worse than an Alchemical Soldier. Although it lacked three extraordinary talents and one skill slot, its service life was longer, and it was 5,000 Gold Sols cheaper… The Gryphon and Gray Wolf Combat Techniques designed by Tournans were suited for battle, especially the Gryphon technique, which even incorporated the Throat-slitter’s Vibration Secret Art, giving it astonishing burst power… If the upgraded Alchemical militia were loaded with the Gryphon technique and the alchemical auxiliary soldiers with the Gray Wolf technique, their base attributes might be optimized even further.

Victor’s mind raced with possibilities, his heart full of joy, but he didn’t lose his reason. He knew that the fire of the mind was a difference in realm. Mindlessly stacking high base attributes wouldn’t produce a Knight-level alchemical human; it would only lead to his own bankruptcy. But the necessary tests still had to be done.

He laughed and said, “Haha, I can finally experience the Alchemist’s joy of void creation! Make one Alchemical Soldier to see how it turns out. Also, make one of each upgraded Alchemical militiaman, from one to five upgrades, and one of each upgraded alchemical auxiliary soldier, with one and two upgrades.”

The King responded swiftly, “The total cost will be 97 points of Soul Fire and 43,908 Gold Sols.”

Victor felt a phantom ache in his jaw. He was just planning to test the new units and functions, and forty thousand Gold Sols were gone just like that. And the memory upload function, while seemingly free, was a gold sink in practice. The control radius of an alchemical crow was 400 kilometers; beyond that, it would just fly towards the Alchemy Tower. To scout targets beyond 400 kilometers, he would have to dispatch a squad of alchemical creatures. And that wasn’t even considering the alchemical crow’s one-year service life. Victor estimated that exploring the Ant-man nest would require sacrificing at least several hundred alchemical creatures, a venture that would likely cost no less than a hundred thousand Gold Sols.

Victor fell silent for two seconds, then gritted his teeth and said, “Before that, let’s test the memory upload function…” He paused, took a deep breath, and ordered with a heavy tone, “Bull, go fetch the relic crystal… Also, inform our comrades who have been exclusively practicing the Gryphon and Gray Wolf combat techniques… It’s time to return to the Alchemy Tower.”

The Crouching Ox Militiaman didn’t understand his master’s complicated mood. He asked with a placid expression, “My lord, there are forty such comrades in total. Should they commit suicide now?”

“Have them return in shifts, one every half-minute. They can carry out the order just outside the cave… I can hear them,” Victor said with a slight nod, blinking once.

Even though the Alchemical militia weren’t truly human, ordering them to commit suicide just to extract new skills still made Victor feel somewhat uncomfortable.

Bull turned and left the Alchemy Tower’s cavern. Not long after, a group of Alchemical militia arrived at the upper encampment. Victor heard the sound of sharp blades cleaving necks, of heads rolling, and of blood gushing.

Thump, thump. The cold, cruel sounds continued methodically. The ever-thickening scent of blood gradually spread, provoking the sentinel hounds into frenzied, mournful barking, which was quickly silenced by the alchemical auxiliary soldiers.

“Notify me as soon as the skills are generated,” Victor said to the King in his mind.

“As you command, my lord.”

Gradually, Victor’s face turned ashen. At first, he had felt pity, but now his heart was bleeding. To ensure the Alchemy Tower successfully generated the new skills, Victor had ordered the Alchemical militia with 10 Spirit points to focus on practicing the two combat techniques created by Tournans years ago. Today, the time had finally come for those twenty Lithe Ape militiamen and twenty Crouching Ox Militiamen to prove their worth, but with each one that died, Victor lost 1,200 Gold Sols.

After sixteen Lithe Ape militiamen had been sacrificed, the King finally announced, “The Gray Wolf Combat Technique has been generated.”

Victor quickly lit up his gold eyes and used the wind element to carry his voice, ordering the remaining Lithe Ape militiamen to cease their suicides. Only one of the Crouching Ox Militiamen who specialized in the Gryphon Combat Technique remained when the King finally declared that the Gryphon Combat Technique had been generated.

Victor said with a blank expression, “Let me see what’s so special about these two combat techniques that cost me 42,000 Gold Sols… King, report on the status of the level-three Gray Wolf Militiaman and Gryphon Militiaman, respectively.”

“A level-three Gray Wolf Militiaman has 16 points of Physique, 13 of Spirit, 17 of Perception, and 3 of Life. It has a service life of fifteen years and costs 4,866 Gold Sols.”

“A level-three Gryphon Militiaman has 17 points of Physique, 13 of Spirit, 16 of Perception, and 3 of Life. It has a service life of fifteen years, costs 4,866 Gold Sols, and possesses the Vibration Secret Art. By consuming stamina, it can achieve a burst of power and speed, lasting a maximum of two seconds. After nine consecutive bursts, it will lose its ability to move and suffer severe internal injuries.”

“The attributes are well-balanced. Very good, and just as I expected.” Victor nodded, then frowned. “The Gray Wolf Militiaman seems a bit weak… Report on a level-two alchemical auxiliary soldier loaded with the Gray Wolf Combat Technique.”

“My lord, a level-two Gray Wolf auxiliary soldier’s attributes are 10 points of strength and 11 of perception. The rest are unchanged.”

“Loading the alchemical auxiliary soldier with the Crouching Ox or Lithe Ape Mystic Forms didn’t change their attributes. Now there’s finally a change, but it’s still useless… The Gray Wolf Combat Technique was designed for the mercenary army, after all. It’s not even as good as the Lithe Ape Mystic Form.” Victor couldn’t help but shake his head.

But the King said, “My lord, I’ve discovered a strange phenomenon… After an alchemical auxiliary soldier is loaded with the Gray Wolf Combat Technique, their mastery of ranged weapons, melee weapons, polearms, and shields all become ‘proficient’… Only a talent can override a skill. This indicates that the Gray Wolf Combat Technique hides a Martial Skill Mastery Talent. Therefore, an alchemical human loaded with the Gray Wolf Combat Technique no longer needs to be loaded with weapon skills.”

Saving skill slots… Victor was overcome with a mix of surprise and joy. He quickly pressed, “What about the Gryphon Combat Technique?”

The King responded swiftly, “It has no ranged weapon talent, but is otherwise the same.”

The Gryphon Combat Technique had a chance of igniting the fire of the mind; its Forging Method was more important than its Sundering Method. The Gray Wolf Combat Technique, on the other hand, was designed for rapid mastery and focused more on the Sundering Method. No wonder it came with a built-in Martial Skill Mastery Talent… The First Sacred Warrior’s reputation was truly well-deserved. Greatly energized, Victor gave his orders: “Create the production tasks according to my previous request. Load the Alchemical Soldier with Gathering, Forging, Construction, the Gray Wolf Combat Technique, and the Gryphon Combat Technique… By the way, what are its attribute changes when loaded with both combat techniques?”

“Its Physique becomes 18 points, its Perception becomes 17. The rest are unchanged. However, the adjustment limit for the Active Adaptation talent increases to 4 points, and it can be adjusted twice every forty-five minutes… It can adjust its attributes one extra time during combat, refreshing the cooldown of the last adjustment.”

An adjustment of 4 attribute points? Physique could reach a maximum of 22, and Perception could break past 21!

Victor was stunned for a moment, then nodded. “Gryphon is superior to Gray Wolf, and Gray Wolf will serve only as a weapon talent. I’m very satisfied… Then load all the upgraded Alchemical militia with the Gryphon, Gray Wolf, Gathering, and Construction skills… Load the alchemical auxiliary soldiers with Gray Wolf, Gathering, and Forging… Begin production in half an hour.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

Just then, Bull returned to the cave, carrying a dirt-stained refined iron box. Victor gestured for him to take out the relic crystal from the box and place it on the altar, then commanded the King:

“Appraise this crystal.”

“My lord, I cannot appraise the object you call a crystal. I cannot even sense any sacrificable item at all.”

It can’t be appraised? What’s going on?

Victor frowned and walked forward, taking the amber-like relic crystal in his own hand for the first time. It felt cool to the touch, but he didn’t sense anything unusual.

Weighing the relic crystal in his hand, Victor decided to set aside unlocking its secrets for now. He handed it back to Bull for safekeeping and said to the King in his mind, “I’ll be back in five days. I’ll give you some more money then.”

The King was silent for a moment before saying:

“My lord, I have something to report… I feel uncomfortable.”

Chapter 545: Confident and Unafraid

A Tower Spirit was claiming it felt… uncomfortable?

Victor didn’t react at first, then his heart clenched, and his eyes turned a solid gold.

Alchemy Towers could be damaged!

He reined in his agitated emotions, his will issuing an icy command, “King, immediately run a self-diagnostic on all functional components and report the results.”

“Soul Fire containment function normal… Production function normal… Will Side loading function normal… Memory upload function normal… Element adjustment function normal… Rune Crystal collection function normal… Rapid Construction Function damaged… Self-diagnostic complete.”

“Initiate a production task immediately and check the operational status of all functions.”

Above the Alchemy Tower’s altar, four void element runes materialized. They gave rise to layers of countless smaller runes, which began to revolve around one another in a profound pattern, revealing the universal law of evolution from simplicity to complexity, from singularity to diversity. All the runes, like a dense smattering of stars, shrouded the altar. A vaporous mist of light gathered in the center, constrained by some mysterious force, faintly outlining a humanoid silhouette.

Despite having observed the Alchemy Tower’s void creation process many times, Victor was still awed by the interweaving of reality and illusion before him.

“The Alchemy Tower is operating normally.”

King’s unchanging voice echoed in his mind. Victor finally relaxed, his golden eyes reverting to their deep, dark state, ringed with dark gold. He spoke with obvious jest, “How are you feeling uncomfortable? Does it hurt? Or itch… Or did the memories of the Alchemical militia returning to the tower frighten you?”

“My lord, I do not possess such functions, nor can I experience the feelings you describe,” King replied calmly. “Alchemy Tower No. 7 contains 14,031 units of Soul Fire, close to the level of a third-rank Alchemy Tower… Alchemical Soldiers are a production unit of a second-rank Alchemy Tower. Additionally, I have no information regarding the element adjustment function component and cannot determine its permission level.”

As Alchemy Tower No. 7 was being repaired, the Tower Spirit King was also completing its own database. For any functional component or alchemical unit it came into contact with, repaired or not, it could obtain complete information, knowing its specific contents and permission level.

King’s inability to acquire the permission information for the element adjustment function was an anomaly for Alchemy Tower No. 7.

Victor furrowed his fine, long brows and asked, almost to himself, “What does that mean?”

“There are multiple possibilities. I cannot deduce a definitive answer,” King responded, taking up his master’s question. “After I awakened, my database came to contain dozens of templates for alchemical creatures that cannot be manufactured. They have no specific information on Elemental Attributes, only their external features… Would you care to see them?”

Victor’s spirits lifted, and he said with great interest, “Of course, send them over.”

A series of images appeared in his mind, and Victor was instantly dumbfounded.

They were all exceptionally beautiful male and female humans… perhaps they couldn’t be called human, because they were not purely so. For example, there was a woman with delicate features and long, pointed ears who had a pair of transparent wings on her back; a half-human, half-deer female with smooth, lustrous fur and a slender, bewitching figure; a well-built, handsome male human with horns sprouting from his head and a smooth tail trailing behind him… There were also various small animals of different forms, all adorable and cuddly, each a fusion of different creatures: half-cat, half-rabbit; half-dog, half-sheep; and so on.

An ordinary person seeing these images would surely condemn the ancient Alchemists for their decadence and depravity, but Victor did not think so. He had his own understanding of the world. Templates for alchemical creatures were all taken from existing real-world creatures. These bizarre alchemical creatures could not be made, because the Laws of the world did not permit it.

“This Alchemist… had quite the imagination. But if he could create all these fantastical creatures, he’d be no different from the Creator,” Victor said with a smile, stroking his smooth chin. “My guess is that the Alchemy Tower in Naville belonged to some mad Alchemist. It was an experimental tower, different from your type. That’s why you can’t get the permission information for the element adjustment function.”

King said, “This useless information is like trash that can’t be thrown away, cluttering my Will Side… Moreover, Alchemy Tower No. 7 is a first-rank Alchemy Tower, yet it has the Soul Fire of a third-rank tower, the alchemical combat units of a second-rank tower, and a function with an unreadable permission level… There is no logical beauty to it. That is the reason for my discomfort.”

Logical beauty?

Victor was startled. Beauty was the manifestation of the world’s perfected Laws, and the love of beauty was an instinct bestowed upon intelligent beings by the world’s will. It was as if the Creator loved the world of His creation, and humans, as vessels for the Creator’s consciousness, instinctively loved the world they inhabited. This manifested as a love for beauty and the observation, protection, study, imitation, and application of beautiful things.

Things that were not beautiful were naturally not in line with the Laws of the world. It was like a majestic cathedral: heavy and large at the bottom, light and small at the top, its overall layout symmetrical, presenting an architectural beauty. If it were built upside down with a chaotic layout, it would be unsettling just to think about, and such a cathedral could never be built in the first place.

King saying that Alchemy Tower No. 7 currently lacked logical beauty was essentially the same problem.

A first-rank Alchemy Tower possessing the soul fire capacity of a third-rank tower, the alchemical units of a second-rank tower, and an experimental element adjustment function was inherently illogical. It should have ceased to function.

However, the illogical had already occurred. What should have stopped working was continuing to operate, which was rather thought-provoking.

Victor pondered for a moment, then said to King in his mind, “It is no accident that Alchemy Tower No. 7 can collect the Rune Crystals of other Alchemy Towers and the Soul Fire of the Ant-men. I don’t understand the principles behind it, but I can guess there must be a reason… You once advised me to repair the Soul Fire containment function first, upgrade its rank, and then repair and add other functional components. But I am certain that no matter how I repair it, the final result will be the complete restoration of Alchemy Tower No. 7, followed by the reappearance of the Alchemical Empire’s civilization… This is the work of some force of destiny… At the very least, we now know that the Core of the Earth is an Alchemy Tower’s Rune Crystal, and we have mastered a method for collecting them. We can absolutely continue to repair and upgrade Alchemy Tower No. 7.”

“King, you’re somewhat alive now, but don’t overthink things. As long as Alchemy Tower No. 7 can operate normally, that’s enough. Later, if I discover new Rune Crystals, you will continue to repair Alchemy Tower No. 7 according to my previous priorities… First, extract new alchemical units and add new functional components. Then, repair the Rapid Construction Function. And finally, upgrade the Alchemy Tower’s rank.”

King replied without a hint of hesitation, “As you wish, My lord.”

“Mm.”

Victor acknowledged, then broke his mental connection with the Tower Spirit and walked out of the Alchemy Tower’s cavern.

Hmph, an Alchemy Tower. I’ll repair it if I want to, and I won’t if I don’t feel like it. I am powerful enough on my own now, with many options. In another twenty or thirty years, my Mind Warriors will be ready. Alchemy Tower No. 7 is merely a stepping stone… The initiative is in my hands. Why should I fulfill your wishes?

Victor gazed up at the silver moon casting its light, a relaxed and confident smile gracing his lips.

In the master bedroom of the lord’s residence at Silver Moon Manor, Nicole lay flat on a cooling mat made of calfskin, her hands pillowed behind her head. The graceful curves of her body rose and fell with her breathing, her long, straight legs crossed and held together. She stared at the ceiling in a daze, her eyes distant.

Victor had run off to the Chapman territory for a tryst with Gillian, and Father Dayn was still dragging his feet on the road, refusing to return, trying to cover for His Highness Randell’s transgression of trespassing on another family’s land. Nicole was one of the few who knew the truth. The thought of Victor disregarding the Highness’s reputation and the risk of trespassing just to see the Young Lady of the Chapman family made her grind her teeth in frustration.

That bad guy! All he knows is how to bully me. He just bullies me! When you come back, I’m leaving immediately. I’ll move back to Golden Oak Manor and won’t see you for ten days!

Nicole thought it over and realized she probably couldn’t do it. She quietly amended her plan:

I won’t see you for three days… Hmph! I’ll give you the cold shoulder for one day first, then make you apologize to me.

I wonder if that bad guy is still with that Miss Chapman right now? Gillian might be a bit silly, but she’s much better than Sophia… At least she won’t try to monopolize Victor… It’s so infuriating! Why did Victor have to see her first? Because she’s a Silver Knight? Victor is a Highness now, so maybe I should advance to the Silver-rank? Besides me, all of Victor’s partners are Extraordinary Knights. If I become a Silver Knight, I won’t be the most special one anymore… Should I become a Silver Knight or not?

Just then, the crisp sound of tapping on crystal came from outside the bedroom window. Nicole sprang from the large bed, crossed to the window in a single step, and swept aside the Spider silk curtain. Bathed in the moonlight, she pushed open the crystal window.

Victor slipped silently through the window. The moment he landed on the floor, a soft, fragrant body threw itself into his arms.

The next morning, after finishing her morning prayer, Lilia sat quietly on a chair. Only after the last of the faithful had left the small chapel did she rise elegantly and, on her high heels, pace over to Father Miller. She gave a faint curtsy.

“Reverend Father, I wish to make a confession.”

The old priest, dressed in a coarse flax robe, sized her up and nodded with a smile. “Lilia, if you wish to repent for your sins, you may confess to the Lord. But I don’t think you’ve come to repent… If you wish to talk, I am happy to listen.”

“Macy, go wait for me outside.”

Lilia first dismissed her personal attendant, then turned to Miller and said, “Reverend Father, I don’t know how to begin…”

Miller nodded, gesturing for the church attendants to leave. He smiled slyly, “Let’s just chat. Talk about whatever you want to… I promise I won’t let Victor know.”

Lilia’s face flushed. She hesitated for a moment, her carefully groomed, willow-like brows knitting together as she murmured:

“I haven’t seen my husband for more than two years. I miss him very much. But for some reason, now that he is about to return, I find I don’t want to see him…”

A smile bloomed on Miller’s wrinkled old face. “Heh heh, I for one can’t wait for Victor to get back. Then Dayn will have to stay in this chapel every day and preside over mass for you nobles… This old man isn’t afraid of Victor, so what does a beautiful noble lady like you have to worry about? Last year, you asked My Lady Nicole to have her Tutor perform a second body reconstruction for you. Wasn’t that so you could show Victor how you look now?”

Lilia bit her tender lip and said in a small voice, “I’ve undergone two body reconstructions and practiced the Gryphon Combat Technique diligently every day. Whether in appearance or ability, I believe I’m no worse off than Elina or Alice… But when Elina returned from Naville with fourteen full carts of treasure, I truly realized that the distance between Victor and me is growing ever wider. No matter how hard I try, I can’t keep up with him… I will grow old, but my husband will remain forever young.”

“Who told you that? Who can tell you what the future holds?”

Meeting Lilia’s surprised gaze, the old priest asked, “If one day, Victor lost his power and beauty and became an ordinary mortal, would you still love him?”

Lilia’s expression turned solemn. With a serious tone tinged with a hint of pride, she said, “Yes, I love him, whether he is a noble Highness or an ordinary man.”

“I’m not so sure…” The old priest glanced at her and shook his head. “Whether you would love an ordinary Victor, I cannot say. But I am certain that the one at Rose Manor would still love Victor. She loves Victor because she loves herself, affirming her own experiences. You love Victor because you want Victor to love you… You don’t understand yourself, you don’t know how to love yourself, you aren’t sure of yourself, so you are too easily changed by the outside world… You yourself are so fickle, so how can you know that your feelings for your husband will never change?”

Lilia’s eyes were blank with bewilderment. She listened as the old priest continued:

“A future that is unchanging makes the world a cold tomb. Perhaps, one day, you will become the high and mighty Empress Lilia, wielding unimaginable power and authority; perhaps you will lose everything you have now and become an ordinary person; perhaps you will be reduced to a destitute beggar; perhaps you will become a high-ranking clergy… But your soul will not change, because every person’s soul possesses the same essence. In this, you are no different from a Knight, no different from Victor.”

Lilia came to her senses and murmured, “Reverend Father, I don’t understand what you’re saying…”

Miller smiled. “To not understand is to be unwilling to admit that Knight-Nobles and commoners have the same soul… Let me ask you, can a Highness have one more blink of an eye in a day than you? Will a Highness not have a day when he must face death? Was a Highness not born of a Mother?”

“Child, the essence of the world is ruthless fairness. Our Lord says, ‘Walk towards the light.’ Everyone’s starting point is the same, and their destination is the same. What matters is the direction of their journey. You and your Lover are heading in the same direction, so there’s no need to chase his footsteps… You will be able to see his tracks, and he will lead you along.”

Lilia was completely baffled by all this, but she maintained a perfectly timed expression of enlightenment on her face and curtsied. “Reverend Father, thank you for your counsel. I feel much better… But… what if Victor finds me lacking?”

All that talk for nothing. If he finds you lacking, what good does it do to complain to me?

The old priest rolled his eyes internally. Waving his fingertips, he let holy light spill forth and said with pity, “Child, may the Lord bless you.”

“Praise the Supreme Lord, may Your radiance shine upon all things in this world forever.”

Lilia clasped her hands, pressed them to her brow, and prayed piously. Then she stood up, her face radiant, and said, “Thank you, Reverend Father, for your blessing.”

Miller asked with a knowing smile, “It was Lord Narsen who told you to come, wasn’t it?”

“How did you know?” Lilia asked, a little surprised.

How did I know? Using a private emotional problem to make a confession to a priest—only that foolish brother of yours could come up with such an idea… the God-favored man complained internally. Before he could speak, Macy’s voice came from outside the door. “My Lady, His Highness Randell has arrived at Silver Moon Manor. He has sent someone to summon you.”

Lilia didn’t even have time to bid Father Miller farewell. She gathered her skirts and rushed out of the small chapel in a matter of steps.

“Quick, have my carriage brought around! We’re going to Silver Moon Manor immediately.”

“My Lady, we would be faster if we ride the Swiftbirds.”

“No, I can change my clothes and fix my makeup in the carriage.”

Chapter 546: Domain Integration

Lilia walked into the lord’s study, and Victor felt his eyes light up.

Her eyebrows were picturesque, and she wore no makeup. She was dressed in a white, spider-silk, belted dress accented with blue trim, its hem falling just past her knees to reveal a pair of well-proportioned, slender calves. Her delicate feet were clad in elegant, white calfskin high-heeled shoes, which made her tall figure seem even more upright, giving her an air of grace and youthful beauty.

Victor remembered that Lilia was twenty-seven this year. Originally 1.61 meters tall, her height had increased to 1.67 meters after her first body reconstruction. Now, she stood at 1.72 meters, her proportions nearly perfect. Her skin was snow-white and flawless, her hair glossy and smooth, and her facial features exquisite and beautiful, with no discernible flaws. Her brown eyes, as clear and moist as a baby’s, made her look like a peerless beauty of twenty.

Moreover, her movements were coordinated, each step as precise as if measured with a ruler. Her seemingly frail body concealed a strength that an ordinary person could not comprehend. Every action flowed with a fluid grace, a blend of power and agility that was the mark of someone who had cultivated the Gryphon Combat Technique to the third level.

Lilia’s current physical condition was on par with an initial-rank apprentice knight. Victor couldn’t discern her fighting spirit, but her combat strength was undoubtedly greater than that of the Elina sisters.

In truth, Victor didn’t much care for Lilia’s current power or beauty; in fact, even a Silver-rank female knight held little attraction for him anymore. What he feared was loneliness. He cherished every sincere emotion and was unwilling to let go of any of his intimate partners. In the eyes of the extraordinary, His Highness Randell’s behavior was arrogant and rude, disrespectful of the free will of his high-ranked knight lovers. Victor had to admit that he was powerless to resist the partner principles, as they were a code of conduct based on personal strength.

However, Lilia and the Elina sisters were not just Victor’s women; they were also his vassals. As their liege lord and husband, Victor bore full responsibility for them and enjoyed all the rights that entailed.

Pleasing his little wife was a way of pleasing himself.

Victor stepped forward proactively, swept Lilia up by her waist, and returned to his seat, teasing, “Darling, I haven’t seen you in two years, and you’ve changed so completely I almost didn’t recognize you.”

Lilia’s忐忑 heart finally settled. On her way over, she had changed into several outfits of different styles. Just before arriving, she recalled Father Miller’s words and decided to remove her makeup and wear her simplest dress, to let Victor see her true self.

The look of astonishment in Victor’s eyes was her greatest reward.

At that moment, tears welled up in Lilia’s eyes. She wrapped her arms around Victor’s neck and choked out in a soft, nasal voice, “Victor, I missed you so much…”

“My dear, don’t cry… I’m back now, aren’t I?”

“My eyes have a new ring of dark gold, but other than that, nothing’s changed… I’m still the same man who adores my Lilia,” Victor said with a faint smile.

Biting her lip with her pearly white teeth, Lilia lowered her head to hide the flicker of delight in her eyes and murmured, “…You’ve become more mature, more charming, more charismatic.”

Victor’s gentle facial contours had become more defined, and the unusual dark gold of his eyes added an air of sunny majesty. His handsome features would no longer cause him to be mistaken for a woman, and he seemed much more mature, looking like a young man in his early twenties.

The most crucial part was his maturity.

Lilia was particularly concerned about the difference in their apparent ages. His appearance had been frozen in his mid-teens, as if time would leave no mark on him. It was much better now; his twenty-year-old appearance was a good match for her current state. As long as Lilia took care of herself, even in twenty years, no one would mistake their relationship.

Victor understood Lilia’s thoughts and asked with a smile, “I heard from Nicole you went through another body reconstruction?”

“Mmm,” Lilia whined coquettishly. “…It hurt so much, but I think it was worth it. I want to do it again in the future.”

Victor shook his head and laughed. “Darling, it’s useless now… As a woman, you’ve already excavated your potential to its fullest, and the minor flaws in your body and appearance have been corrected. Undergoing another body reconstruction would be meaningless, aside from the pain. In truth, the first three levels of Tournans’ Gryphon Combat Technique are all about excavating one’s external force and inner potential. The fourth level is what ignites the fire of the mind.”

“Which is to say, if a Sacred Warrior practices the first three levels of the Gryphon Combat Technique, they can skip one body reconstruction, saving the Church an astonishing expense.”

Lilia furrowed her fine brows and asked, unwilling to give up, “So if I perfect the fourth level of the Gryphon Combat Technique and ignite the fire of the mind, can I slow down my aging?”

Victor sighed. “Igniting the fire of the mind with the Gryphon Combat Technique is actually just an unverified hypothesis of Tournans. Theoretically, it’s possible, but the chances of achieving it are infinitesimal… Besides, the fire of the mind is a spiritual state of mind-body unity; it has nothing to do with improving one’s physique or slowing aging. However, the fourth level’s training methods are all techniques for channeling internal and external force and balancing the body. If you practice them diligently, you can improve your real combat ability… As for igniting the fire of the mind, you shouldn’t get your hopes up.”

“Why not?” Lilia pouted, unconvinced. “I work very hard. I practice the Gryphon Combat Technique for six hours every day, once in the morning and once in the afternoon.”

Victor gave a wry smile. “This isn’t a problem that can be solved with hard work. The prerequisite for igniting the fire of the mind is the strength of one’s spirit. A Ferocious warrior who practices the Gryphon Combat Technique has a minuscule chance of igniting the fire of the mind. An ordinary person has no chance at all… Of course, I’m sure Tournans has a more advanced version of the Gryphon Combat Technique, but even the most advanced technique can’t change an ordinary person’s spiritual strength. It can only increase a Ferocious warrior’s chance of igniting the fire… Hmm, the difference wouldn’t be more than between one percent and five percent. That’s because I understand the principles behind igniting the fire of the mind with this technique very well.”

Lilia’s face lit up with understanding. “No wonder Master Yulir, the Adjudicator at the Randall Church, used to frequently guide Macy in her Gryphon Combat Technique practice. But ever since he was transferred back to the Holy See, his replacement never asked about Macy’s training progress… Lord Tournans must have already modified the Gryphon Combat Technique… Is he unwilling to teach us the latest version?”

Victor asked, “Has your female guard ignited her fire of the mind?”

“Not yet… My brother said that Macy has hit a bottleneck in her strength and it’s difficult for her to improve further.” Lilia shook her head, clinging to Victor’s arm and pleading, “My lord, you’re a Highness now. Could you speak to Lord Tournans on our behalf and persuade him to teach us the new Gryphon Combat Technique?”

“There’s no need!”

The Church’s research on the secret arts of the mind was focused on igniting the fire of the mind in Sacred Warriors, which could be understood as a combined application of divine arts and the mind. The Church’s legacy spanned over nine thousand years, yet it had never been able to make the fire of the mind widespread among Sacred Warriors, showing just how difficult it was for an ordinary person to ignite it. However, the Church was not without its successes. The Divine Art of the Fire of the Mind, mastered by level four priests, could temporarily ignite a person’s fire of the mind, though it was limited by its specificity and duration. The Gryphon Combat Technique pioneered by Tournans brought one infinitely close to the state of the fire of the mind, separated only by a thin barrier. But this barrier was almost impossible for a mortal to overcome, and even the naturally spiritually powerful Ferocious warriors faced immense difficulties. Yet, the power of a divine art could help a Sacred Warrior grasp the mystery of the fire of the mind. Tournans’ modified Gryphon Combat Technique surely combined it with the Sacred Warrior’s Heroism Art to achieve that breakthrough. Although the Heroism Art was time-limited, it would bring a qualitative leap to the Church’s armed forces.

Divine arts had nothing to do with mortals. Even if Tournans made the Sacred Warrior’s Gryphon Combat Technique public, it would be useless for an ordinary person to practice it.

The research direction of the Mind Bloodline secret art was to elevate a person’s level of life, encompassing both the power of the mind and bloodline talents. Although Victor couldn’t guarantee that an ordinary person could ignite the fire of the mind, the Mind Bloodline secret art could enhance a practitioner’s spiritual strength, increasing their chances of doing so.

The growth and development of the mind depended entirely on an individual’s talent, effort, and luck, and Victor had no easy solutions. But he was fully confident in his ability to cultivate Mind Warriors, similar to Alchemical Soldiers, who could master the two great talents of Vital Tenacity and Active Adaptation. Life characteristics like extending lifespan and slowing aging also fell within the research scope of the Mind Bloodline secret art.

When Victor said there was no need to seek Tournans’ help, it was both a statement of fact and a display of unparalleled confidence.

The dark gold ring outside his black pupils slowly rotated. The powerful confidence Victor exuded left Lilia utterly intoxicated. Her cheeks flushed, and she leaned limply against his chest, wishing she could stay by his side forever.

Victor couldn’t manipulate his spiritual power to directly influence a mortal’s mind like a high-ranked Knight could. But he possessed a Legendary-level soul, and to an admirer like Lilia, it was the ultimate form of charm.

“Darling, I brought back a new formula for a beauty and longevity potion from Aerie Fortress. Its effects are far superior to the potion you’re using now. In a little while, I’ll tailor-make a set of combat techniques and secret arts for you. Paired with the beauty potion, I guarantee you’ll stay as young and beautiful as an experienced female knight.”

“Okay,” Lilia nodded, asking in a soft voice, “Is that potion very expensive?”

“Not expensive… Many of the medicinal ingredients can’t be bought with money; they’ve long been carved up by powerful families. But I can get them! Don’t forget, you are now the Personal handmaiden of His Highness Randell. Of course, you have the right to enjoy the most top-tier beauty potion… Besides, we have The Golden Company controlling the flow of resources everywhere.”

Victor’s ears twitched. He suddenly said, “Nicole is coming.”

A moment later, the sound of high heels clicking on the floor came from the corridor outside. Lilia quickly stood up from Victor’s lap and sat down beside him.

Nicole walked into the study, her eyes flicking to Lilia’s flushed face. She covered her mouth and giggled.

“My dears, I hope I’m not interrupting?”

Lilia stood up, her face red, and curtsied to Nicole. Nicole came forward and took her hand, teasing, “Tonight, he belongs to you. But right now… you have to attend the round table meeting. All of Victor’s followers are already in the second-floor conference room.”

“Ah? There’s a round table meeting today? What about the welcome banquet?” Lilia asked in surprise.

“I was the one who summoned them for the meeting… Leave the banquet arrangements to Nicole’s steward. Let’s go down.”

Victor adjusted his collar and walked towards the door. Nicole naturally took his arm, with Lilia following half a step behind. The three of them walked down the corridor with its polished floor, descended the stairs to the second floor, and entered the lord’s grand conference room.

The spacious, bright room was already filled with people. Upon seeing Victor, they rose from their chairs, formed a line, and knelt on one knee in salute, their voices united:

“Congratulations, Master, on your promotion to Highness. Welcome back to the family, Your Highness Randell!”

Victor’s gaze swept across the room, taking in House of Randell’s Military Commander Lord Narsen, Liaison Officer Alice, Silver Moon Manor’s Steward Elina, Inspector Linda, Magistrate Munk, Raven Town’s Mayor Butz, Raven Town’s Garrison Commander Old Ham, Benditch Town’s Mayor Moline, Brick Kiln Steward Dean, and then the village heads of the four administrative villages: Fero, Kent, George, and Bansen.

They were all Victor’s old subordinates, each one visibly excited and feeling immensely honored by their master’s promotion to Highness.

“All of you, rise.” Victor nodded and gestured to the large round table in the conference room. “Be seated!”

After Victor, Nicole, and the three ladies were seated, the others took their places. Victor smiled slightly and said:

“Ever since I established the round table meeting system, the family has held two fixed meetings a year. Everyone presents issues and brainstorms, making great contributions to the family’s growth. During my absence, Lady Nicole presided over the round table meetings for all of you. This is the first time… and the last time that Lady Nicole and I will attend a meeting together.”

“I declare that the House of Randell’s meeting system will continue, but I will no longer participate in the round table meetings… This is the last time I will preside over the round table meeting. From now on, Lady Nicole will be the chairperson.”

Nicole nodded to Victor, her expression calm as she sat in her place, seemingly oblivious to the drastic change in the expressions of the Randell family officials.

Narsen shot his hand high into the air. The moment Victor nodded, he asked impatiently:

“My lord, are you not going to manage us anymore?”

Victor shot him an exasperated look and chided, “What nonsense are you talking about… I’ll explain after the meeting. Right now, we still have a few new attendees to welcome.”

Nicole picked up a small golden bell from the table and rang it. Before long, several well-dressed men walked into the conference room and bowed to Victor.

Narsen stood up, a look of pleasant surprise on his face. “Jomosen, you’re attending the round table meeting too?”

Faced with Narsen’s enthusiastic greeting, Jomosen gave a wry smile and said, “I am deeply honored by His Highness Randell’s esteem, to be able to participate in Silver Moon Manor’s round table meeting.”

“All of you, find a seat.” Victor beckoned for Jomosen and the others to sit, then said, “You are all familiar with one another, but I must still make a formal introduction.”

“Lord Jomosen, Commander of the Guard for Baroness Phoenix’s fief, Deputy Commander of the First Legion, Deputy Garrison Commander of the Southern Fortress. Heh, Jomosen is more or less Narsen’s deputy.”

“Papo, Mayor of Rose Town, formerly the President of the Stonemasons of Black Fortress Town. The sluice gate, the Southern Fortress, Rose Lake, Rose Castle, and the port currently under construction were all projects he organized and supervised.”

“Lord Hals, Magistrate of Baroness Phoenix’s fief. From now on, he can be considered Magistrate Munk’s deputy.”

“Dennis, Village head of Stream Village. He used to be the head of The Cabbages in Black Fortress Town, responsible for the logistics and supply for tens of thousands of hired laborers in Baroness Phoenix’s fief.”

“Lady Nicole’s steward, Lord Geoffrey, was unable to attend today’s meeting. In the future, he can be considered Lady Lilia’s deputy.”

Victor paused, then addressed Nicole’s four men, “This is your first time attending the round table meeting. You will only listen, not speak.”

“As you wish, noble Your Highness Randell.”

Victor nodded and said, “Well then… let’s begin the reports.”

“We’ll start with Lilia.”

Chapter 547: A Great Household and a Vast Estate

“The Silvermoon River flows from north to south, passing through our territory and eventually merging into the Goldwater River. It divides the… family territory into two parts: east and west of the river.”

Lilia, sharp as a tack, saw Victor summon Nicole’s vassals to the round table meeting and astutely referred to Phoenix’s barony and the Randell Fief together as the “family territory.”

Nicole’s subordinates had no objection to this. In truth, the two sides had long become indistinguishable. Phoenix’s barony was entirely dependent on the House of Randell for its finances, military, and food supply. Furthermore, the barony was small, a mere three thousand square kilometers with little potential for development. Nicole’s vassals were all scrambling to send their second sons and second daughters to Silver Moon Manor to serve as Victor’s attendants and handmaidens, hoping to secure a future for them within the House of Randell.

Lilia smiled faintly, her red lips parting as she continued, “In the past, we primarily developed the land west of the river. Now, with the completion of the circular canal and irrigation system on the eastern bank of the Silvermoon River, we have begun to cultivate the eastern region. Currently, the west side of the river has Laketon, Rose Town, and six administrative villages, which oversee eleven smaller villages and seventy-two tenant farms. The eastern region has Riverbend Town and two administrative villages, which oversee five smaller villages and thirty-five tenant farms.”

“The total cultivated land, including the terraced fields, is over 3.83 million mu. Our pastures cover 4.66 million mu, the total area of our reservoirs is 15,730 mu, and our Purple Cane forest is 570,000 mu. The remaining territory, over six thousand square kilometers, consists of undeveloped hills and forests.”

“The family uses a three-year crop rotation system. Last year’s total grain yield was 280,000 tons. The pastures can support over five hundred thousand head of cattle, sheep, horses, Camelopes, and pigs annually. Last year’s fish harvest was 1.33 million pounds. We harvested 32,000 mu of the Purple Cane forest, producing 54.2 million pounds of raw sugar… As for the other cash crops, I won’t report them now. The Laketon Administrative Hall has detailed records, and I will have a copy sent to each of you present.”

“In terms of population, the family has over sixty-seven thousand registered subjects, over ninety-five thousand tenant households, and more than twenty-seven thousand freemen hired laborers. The total permanent population exceeds one hundred and eighty thousand.”

My subjects number over one hundred and eighty thousand?

Victor was secretly overjoyed. He tapped the table and said with a casual expression, “Tell me the specifics about the young, the old, and the newborns.”

Lilia pursed her lips, thought for a moment, and said, “There are about forty thousand people over the age of fifty, and over fifty thousand children under the age of fifteen. There are more than seventy thousand able-bodied adults… The year before last, there were over 3,300 newborns. Last year, that number was over 5,200, and this year, it’s estimated to be close to 7,000.”

Victor turned to Nicole with a smile and nodded in praise. “Well done.”

Nicole’s gaze was gentle as she said, “You required every family to have at least four children, with a couple having a child every three years on average. The Church sings high praises for the birth policy you proposed, but the family has paid a high price to encourage childbirth…”

“Ahem… let’s discuss that issue later.” Victor promptly changed the subject, turning his gaze to Butz. “Report on the situation in Raven Town.”

Butz exchanged a look with Old Ham and spoke first. “Raven Town oversees one village and six tenant farms, with a permanent population of over seventeen thousand and 180,000 mu of cultivated land. The grain we produce can only satisfy our subjects and tenants. The food for merchants and freemen depends on the output of Soren’s Viscounty, while the daily supplies for the barbarians and Sacred Warriors are provided by the Two-headed Lizard Merchant Guild… However, we lease out shops and warehouses, collect a transaction tax from caravans, and purchase mountain goods and minerals from the barbarians, which we process and resell. This brings in a net income of at least eight thousand Gold Sols per year. Last year, we submitted five thousand Gold Sols to the family.”

“Oh, right,” Butz added, beaming with delight. “The inner wall of Raven Town, built with soft silver ore, is complete. My lord, if you have time, you should go see it… It’s incredibly sturdy, and beautiful too.”

Hearing that the Thorium ore inner wall of Raven Town was complete, Victor’s mood lifted immensely. He said with a broad smile, “I will… In that case, you can consider building the outer wall of Raven Town with soft silver ore as well.”

Butz’s expression immediately soured. He stammered, “My lord, this… could we perhaps build the outer wall of Raven Town with green brick and rammed earth? That… using soft silver ore to build the wall is sturdy enough, but it’s just too expensive… We have to buy the soft silver ore from the barbarians, and it consumes a huge amount of firewood to crack the ore, not to mention the labor costs. The overall budget is staggering. If we could save this expense, I guarantee that Raven Town’s net financial income would be no less than thirteen thousand Gold Sols per year!”

Victor sensed Nicole and Lilia looking at him with wary eyes, as if they would immediately speak up to stop him if he insisted on using Thorium ore for the town’s outer wall.

I use Thorium ore to fill the walls, which in the eyes of outsiders is something I’m forced to do. If I continue to use Thorium ore for the outer wall regardless of the cost, it will inevitably arouse suspicion… Victor mused silently, asking with a placid expression, “Is building a soft silver wall that expensive?”

“Extremely expensive! It costs nearly three times as much as a normal wall!” Nicole said through gritted teeth. She paused, then softened her tone and suggested, “My dear, we don’t actually need to rush the construction of Laketon’s inner wall… We just have to wait for the Royal Family to finish building the port in the Chapman territory, and the kingdom’s Southern Realm will start selling stone to the Centaur Hills. Why don’t we halt the construction of Laketon’s inner wall for now… and then continue building the inner and outer walls of all the towns once we have cheaper stone?”

The “cheaper stone” Nicole mentioned referred to rock brick. According to Duke York’s plan, the Centaur Hills would unveil the Iron brick during King Edward’s wedding, using the occasion to sell the design for the giant brick kilns to the envoys of the various kingdoms. They would make a large profit first, and then, after two or three years, they would introduce rock brick and unite with the royal families of the various kingdoms to force the Church to relinquish its minting rights for gold and silver Sols.

This was an open secret to Victor, but he couldn’t afford to abandon the Thorium ore resources in Marquess Sorim’s domain. He pondered for a moment and asked, “What’s the status of Laketon’s inner wall?”

Lilia looked at Victor, full of expectation, and said in a crisp voice, “It’s more than halfway done… Should we stop for now?”

Victor frowned, a look of distaste on his face. He shook his head. “More than halfway done? And then we’d continue building with stone? That would be too ugly… Continue using the soft silver ore to finish the inner wall. We’ll forget about the outer wall.”

The Moon Elves’ love for beauty was well-known. Since His Highness Randall had spoken, Nicole and Lilia could only nod in acquiescence.

Victor then asked, “What about Raven Town’s defenses?”

Old Ham replied, “My lord, Raven Town has one hundred and twenty Guards, eighty cavalry, and thirty Swiftbird light cavalrymen. Their main tasks are to patrol the borders, drive away beasts, and capture poachers. There are two thousand Sacred Warriors permanently stationed in Raven Town, so security and order within the town are not an issue. The barbarians mostly hide in the mountains now and are reluctant to deal with us. All their trade with Raven Town is coordinated by the Sacred Warriors.”

“Does the Magistrate’s Office have anything to report?”

Monkey stood up and said respectfully, “My lord, the Magistrate’s Office currently has 354 guards, while the territory’s population is one hundred and eighty thousand. We are severely short-staffed. Almost none of the magistrate’s guards get a weekend, and many don’t even have time to go home when their wives are giving birth. I request that my lord expand the magistrate’s guard, adding at least another three hundred men.”

Lilia said coldly, “You control two gangs, and you have over two thousand members of The Grey Towels working for the Magistrate’s Office.”

Monkey gave a wry smile. “My Lady, the Hyenas and the Grey Towels don’t get paid. If you ask them to maintain public order, they’ll just take bribes. If you don’t believe me, you can ask Lady Linda.”

Linda also interjected, “My lord, the Inspectorate also needs more staff…”

“Don’t even think about it,” Lilia rolled her eyes and muttered audibly.

Linda’s eyes widened as she glared at Lilia. Lilia, completely unafraid, raised an eyebrow and glared back at her brother’s wife. The two women, both from the War Bear Mercenary Company, stared daggers at each other, not at all like close companions.

A thought occurred to Victor. He motioned for Monkey to sit down and turned to Elina. “How many family attendants does Silver Moon Manor have now?”

Elina smiled gracefully and said in a gentle voice, “My lord, I haven’t been back with the family for long. It would be better to have Alice answer that question.”

Alice wrinkled her lovely, pert nose and said, “Silver Moon Manor has a total of 745 attendants and handmaidens. There are one hundred and thirty-three attendants who will soon turn eighteen, and one hundred and two handmaidens who have reached the age of sixteen…”

“I’ll take all one hundred and thirty-three attendants! All of them!” Narsen suddenly raised his hand and shouted.

Victor gave him a cool glance and said to Alice, “Ignore him. Continue.”

“There are 368 household maids, sixty-four of whom are eligible for marriage this year. There are fifty-five little attendants of noble bloodline—thirty-nine boys and sixteen girls… Oh, right, during last year’s Season of Fire, one of the little attendants underwent body reconstruction and naturally awakened his Aura,” Alice said, lifting her sharp chin proudly as if asking for credit.

A little attendant who had naturally awakened his Aura was certain to become a senior knight after consuming a Gold Potion. Victor was ecstatic and pressed, “What’s his name?”

Nicole smiled and said, “He’s a little attendant Lady Audel brought back from the Eastern Alliance. He’s ten years old this year. I gave him the name Dick… This time, the two hundred and fifty children from noble families that Lady Audel acquired with the inducement fee are all quite good. I picked thirty of them first, paying a total of seventy-five thousand Gold Sols.”

Dick alone made the seventy-five thousand Gold Sols worth it. Victor and Nicole exchanged a knowing smile before moving on. He then asked, “What about the school for general education and the vocational school?”

Alice pouted a little. “The school for general education has compulsory enrollment for children aged four to eight. Every town, village, and farm has one, with a total student body of over twenty-two thousand. The vocational school has been running for two years. The artisan school has 556 students, and the soldier school has 377…”

Narsen sprang up from his chair and said urgently, “I’ll take all the kids from the soldier school!”

Victor said helplessly, “The oldest among them is only ten. What would you do with them now?”

“Is that so? Then I’ll wait a bit longer.” Narsen sat down sheepishly, still emphasizing, “The children from the soldier school will definitely become soldiers… None of you can steal them from me.”

Victor ignored him, frowning as he pressed on, “Why are there so few students in the vocational schools?”

“The vocational schools charge tuition. The soldier school, in particular, uses Body-strengthening Potions, so its tuition is much higher than the artisan school’s. Tenant households aren’t very wealthy yet, so after their children complete their general education, their parents call them back to help with work. The children who truly enroll all come from the families of our subjects. But even some subjects believe it’s unnecessary to send their children to the soldier school to learn martial arts. The mercenary legion will recruit soldiers anyway. They think it’s better to wait until their children turn sixteen to join the mercenary army, saving on tuition and earning a commission at the same time,” Nicole explained softly.

“Hmph! So short-sighted.”

Victor let out a frustrated breath, tapped the table, and said with a headache, “To train elite Rangers, we must start their martial arts training from a young age… but I can’t afford to support so many people… How about this: issue a notice that the soldier school will be changed from a four-year to a three-year program. The mercenary legion will give priority to recruiting young people who have trained at the soldier school. In addition, we will establish a Retainer Training Camp, which will recruit outstanding students from the soldier school. The recruitment ratio will not exceed thirty percent of the graduating class, with an annual cap of no more than 1,500 recruits. All expenses for the Retainer Training Camp will be covered by the family, and we will even provide a secret martial art. But remember, a retainer is a retainer. There is no backing out halfway… The Retainer Training Camp will have free potions, a secret martial art, and the prospect of being granted land for meritorious service, all without the parents having to spend a single Copper Penny… I think the subjects’ families will be very willing to send their children to the soldier school. And as for the tenant households that can’t afford to raise their children? We will encourage subjects’ families to adopt outstanding children from the general education schools. The foster child’s future achievements will count toward the adoptive family’s merit, with no connection to their birth family.”

Nicole thought it over carefully and said slowly, “That’s a good idea… If a subject’s child can’t become an attendant at Silver Moon Manor, they can become a family retainer. If a subject family pays to adopt a tenant family’s child, the tenant family will have money to raise their other children. But…” Her tone shifted and she frowned. “Most of Randall’s subject families are descended from refugees; they don’t have the tradition or method of adopting a vassal’s children. Moreover, the children will be eleven years old when they graduate from the soldier school and will have their own ideas. If they aren’t selected for the Retainer Training Camp, I’m afraid they might be mistreated by their adoptive parents.”

Victor took Nicole’s slender hand and smiled. “My dear, you’re actually opposing my idea. You’re just saying it this way to save my pride.”

Nicole’s eyes were full of affection. She smiled without a word, her fingers intertwining with Victor’s.

As the lord put on a public display of affection, the vassals below sat straight and solemn, averting their gazes and pretending not to see as they heard Victor say with a laugh:

“Did you think you could pay a little money and buy someone else’s child to work like a horse for you? There’s no such thing. I’m just having them cover three years of sponsorship fees, not a true adoption with an inducement fee. After the child graduates from the soldier school, they will still return to their birth family. However, when they join the mercenary legion or the Rangers in the future, they must repay three times the original sponsorship fee from their own salary. A ten-percent share of any merit they earn, rewards they receive, and even their death compensation will be deducted and given to the family that sponsored them. In addition, if they are unfortunately killed in battle, the sponsoring family will receive one spot in the Retainer Training Camp or the mercenary army, while their birth family will have no right to inherit that spot.”

“So that’s how it is.” Nicole’s smile was like a blooming flower as she looked at Victor and nodded. “My dear, you are truly worthy of being called a great scholar of the Silver Spire. You’ve solved a major problem with ease.”

Lilia massaged her smooth, full forehead and said painfully, “My lord, the family is short on available manpower, but we’re even shorter on money… The manpower problem is easy to solve; we can just transfer people from Narsen’s command. But the money… I really don’t know what to do!”

“How can you transfer people from my command? I disagree, absolutely not!”

Narsen jumped up and declared loudly to Victor, “My lord, the First Legion has already been downsized to three thousand men. We can’t go any lower!”

Lilia slammed her hand on the table and said resentfully, “Right, the First Legion was downsized from 4,100 to 3,000 men, but you took the extra 1,100 and put them into the Second Legion, and then you recruited another 1,900. Now the Second Legion also has 3,000 men, for a total of 6,000 mercenaries! Do you have any idea how much money they cost each year?”

Narsen didn’t even spare his sister a glance, only explaining to Victor, “My lord, I was just following your orders to form the Second Legion… You also said that the southern fortress needs a rotating garrison of four thousand soldiers, and we still need to develop the Southern Continent. With six thousand soldiers, if we subtract four thousand, what can we do with the remaining two thousand? You also said that the family’s mercenary army should reach a scale of at least thirty thousand, organized into ten legions. I’ve only formed two, and Lilia already wants to poach my men!”

Victor said with a headache, “Developing the Southern Continent is still a decade away. Aren’t you being a bit too eager?”

“My lord, you said it yourself, the First Legion is a cradle, where veterans train new recruits… Aren’t we fighting the Fishmen right now? I formed the Second Legion to give them some practice against the Fishmen and train up veterans for the mercenary army.”

Narsen spoke righteously, peppering his speech with “you said,” leaving Victor speechless.

“Then give us an overview of the family’s current military situation.”

“Oh.” Narsen puffed out his chest and said excitedly, “The family currently has two mercenary legions, totaling six thousand soldiers; The Swamp Scouts, with over 1,400 members; and 18,555 registered militia. All of the family’s elite guards have been spread throughout the mercenary legions and can be recalled at any time, including five hundred elite cavalry and six hundred foot soldiers. Your personal guard still has 350 Swiftbird light cavalry.”

Victor nodded in satisfaction. “1,100 elite soldiers for a 4,900-strong mercenary army is a reasonable ratio, but the Church doesn’t allow mercenaries to participate in Family Wars. I still need a family Ranger force of six hundred.”

Narsen slapped his chest and guaranteed, “No problem. The First Legion has been through the Fishman War and has produced many qualified core soldiers. As long as you give me all of Silver Moon Manor’s attendants for the next two years, I can pull out the elite guards and form a new elite Ranger force.”

“Are you planning to recruit another six hundred mercenaries?” Lilia asked, her gaze icy.

Narsen scratched the back of his head and chuckled. “Well… I was planning to pick some people from The Swamp Scouts. If that’s not enough, I’ll definitely have to find a way to fill the ranks.”

Lilia shot him a fierce glare, then turned her head and said, “My lord, the family’s financial situation is not ideal. Last year, the family’s total revenue was 180,000 Gold Sols…”

A sharp intake of breath echoed through the meeting room. Nicole’s four vassals were stunned by the figure.

“Is that all?” Victor said with a frown.

Is that all? He calls 180,000 Gold Sols ‘all’?

The two knights, Jomosen and Hals, were utterly flabbergasted, while Town Mayor Papo and village chief Dennis were simply dumbfounded. They had heard that His Highness Randall had a Midas touch, but they never imagined he would treat an income of 180,000 Gold Sols so lightly. Meanwhile, the officials of the House of Randell all wore expressions as if this were perfectly normal, which made Jomosen and the others feel ashamed, as if they were unsophisticated country bumpkins.

“It is indeed a little low,” Lilia said, looking aggrieved. “But there’s a reason for it.”

“The revenue includes 130,000 Gold Sols from raw sugar, 21,000 Gold Sols from the sale of various goods, an 18,000 Gold Sol dividend from the Two-headed Lizard Merchant Guild, 5,600 Gold Sols in transaction taxes, and a 5,000 Gold Sol tribute from Raven Town.”

“Over the past two years, we’ve taken in more than twenty thousand refugees. Combined with the growth from newborns, the territory’s population has surpassed one hundred and eighty thousand. Because of the population increase, our grain and goods have become self-sufficient, but our external sales have plummeted. Although the citizens also purchase food and daily goods, the profits from internal sales of grain and goods don’t compare to external sales, which has also reduced the dividend from the Two-headed Lizard Merchant Guild. If Lady Nicole hadn’t ordered the harvest of 32,000 mu of the Purple Cane forest to increase the raw sugar sales quota, our finances would have been in the red last year.”

“Even so, our financial surplus last year was only a little over eight thousand Gold Sols.”

Victor sighed and shook his head with a wry smile. “An income of 180,000 Gold Sols, with a surplus of 8,000… You all spent 170,000 of my Gold Sols in one year… Good. Very good.”

“So, tell me, how were these 170,000 Gold Sols spent?”

Chapter 548: Starlight Brilliance

“How were one hundred and seventy thousand Gold Sols spent?”

Lord Jomosen sat bolt upright, quietly listening with pricked ears. If an annual income of one hundred and eighty thousand Gold Sols was enough to shock him, the question of how one hundred and seventy thousand of it was spent piqued his curiosity even more. He couldn’t help but imagine how he would allocate such a staggering fortune, a thought that filled him with a thrill. Compared to the sense of accomplishment from listening to, overseeing, questioning, and vying for the allocation of these one hundred and seventy thousand Gold Sols, managing his own small lordship felt utterly insignificant.

This was the allure of power, a power that a Highness was sharing with a lordly Knight!

“Financial expenditures are mainly divided into three areas: internal construction, Silver Moon Manor, and military investment.”

“Let’s start with the financial expenditures for internal construction… The construction of Randall Cathedral has been underway for nearly three years. The family bore the cost of its materials and a portion of the labor, which amounted to an expenditure of twenty thousand Gold Sols last year. The construction costs for Riverbend Town, the ring canal, villages, tenant households’ farms, roads, bridges, and outposts totaled seventeen thousand Gold Sols. The annual stipends for various town mayors, village heads, stewards, aides, and general education tutors totaled fifty-six hundred Gold Sols. The total expenditure for internal construction was approximately forty-two thousand six hundred Gold Sols.”

Lilia seemed to have been well-prepared. Even though Victor had convened this round table meeting on short notice, she knew the family’s financial situation like the back of her hand, rattling off various figures from memory. It was clear she went over them often.

“Silver Moon Manor’s total expenditure last year was sixty-eight thousand Gold Sols. The remaining sixty-thousand-odd Gold Sols were all spent on military construction… My lord, you should let them explain it themselves,” Lilia said with a pout, her tone clearly conveying her pique.

Alice smiled demurely and said in a sweet voice, “Silver Moon Manor paid an inducement fee to adopt noble children, which was paid to Goldwater City in two installments: forty thousand Gold Sols the year before last, and thirty-five thousand last year. Last year, Silver Moon Manor spent sixty-five hundred Gold Sols training household maids, thirty-six hundred Gold Sols training attendants and handmaidens, and forty-six hundred Gold Sols on food and lodging for the children in the school for general education. The manor’s master of the hunt spent ninety-eight hundred Gold Sols breeding and improving Swiftbird war-fowl, warhorses, warhounds, and Camelopes. The rest was for Silver Moon Manor’s daily expenses… which came to a little over ten thousand Gold Sols.”

Narsen clicked his tongue and said, “Over ten thousand Gold Sols for Silver Moon Manor’s daily expenses. Isn’t that a bit too high?”

Nicole shook her head. “Not at all… That includes the expenses for formal exchanges and banquets with other Nobles, merit-based rewards and invention prizes for our subjects, the expenses for family members’ body reconstruction, donations to the Church, and relief aid from the Mutual Aid Association… Moreover, the Lord’s personal guard is funded from His Highness’s private treasury and isn’t even counted in Silver Moon Manor’s daily expenses.”

“I haven’t even said I’m cutting the military budget yet. What are you worried about?”

Victor stared at Narsen. “Never mind how much others are spending. Just tell me, how did you use that sixty thousand Gold Sols?”

Having his little scheme seen through, Narsen first chuckled sheepishly, then said with a serious expression, “The first and second mercenary legions are at their full complement of six thousand men. Last year, we paid out roughly thirty thousand Gold Sols in commissions, merit-based rewards, and disability compensation. We purchased about twenty-one thousand Gold Sols’ worth of military equipment, combat potions, and Body-Tempering Potions. Combat and training attrition, plus daily expenses, did not exceed ninety-five hundred Gold Sols. The total military expenditure last year was sixty-one thousand seven hundred and eighty Gold Sols. I have the detailed ledgers for all military expenses with me. They are in the rest chamber next door, for my lord’s inspection.”

Victor pointed at Narsen and said with a smile, “You’ve really come prepared… I don’t want to see your ledgers. I just want to know, can the military budget be reduced this year?”

Narsen said solemnly, “My lord, the cost of equipment procurement will certainly drop this year, but the budget for commissions, rewards, compensation, and daily training can only increase, not decrease. Last year, we purchased two hundred sets of mercenary equipment from the Two-headed Lizard Merchant Guild, at forty Gold Sols per set, for a total of eight thousand Gold Sols. The mercenary soldiers are all equipped now, so we can save that expense this year.”

Victor turned to Nicole and asked with a frown, “Why are we purchasing military equipment from outside? Can’t the armaments workshop at the Hill Secret Fortress meet the army’s needs?”

Nicole shook her head gently. “The mercenary legions have expanded, and with the Fishman War ongoing, the mercenaries’ consumption of arrows and equipment is very high. Without your personal order, the Hill Secret Fortress doesn’t take commands from anyone else and continues to produce various military supplies according to its original plan. We’ve had to purchase arrows and leather armor from the Two-headed Lizard Merchant Guild. As for worn-out weapons, we repair what we can. If they can’t be repaired, we have to buy new ones… But as you know, skilled blacksmiths are in high demand and have long been recruited by other lords. We can’t even pick out a few decent blacksmiths from House of Randell’s one hundred and eighty thousand subjects.”

Victor nodded. “That’s my oversight. I will find a way to solve this problem.” His tone shifted as he smiled at Lilia. “This year, we can save the expense of paying inducement fees to adopt noble children, but the investment in education, training, and inventive research can only increase, not decrease… Which part of the family’s budget are you planning to cut this year?”

Lilia glanced at Narsen and said, just as expected, “Cut military spending.”

“Why not cut the spending on internal construction?” Narsen asked in a rumbling voice, his face dark.

Lilia arched a brow and retorted, “Aside from the construction of the cathedral, all the family’s investments in internal construction have yielded returns. Would you dare cut the construction budget for the cathedral? The mercenary legions, on the other hand, only spend money and don’t make any. If I don’t cut your budget, whose budget should I cut?”

Narsen was tongue-tied, at a loss for words.

Lord Jomosen, sitting beside him, muttered to himself in a barely audible voice, “Forming the Second Mercenary Legion is also for training outstanding soldiers.”

“Haha,” Narsen laughed loudly, saying triumphantly, “My Lady Lilia, my lord just said that investment in education and training can only increase, not decrease… We formed the Second Legion to train soldiers for the family, so how can you cut the mercenary legions’ budget?”

Lilia’s eyes flashed with anger, and she was about to argue further when Victor raised a hand to stop her. He asked with a smile, “Lilia, which part of the mercenary legions’ budget are you planning to reduce?”

“Reduce the mercenaries’ commissions.” Lilia’s anger turned to delight, and she spoke rapidly, “Last year, each mercenary soldier received an average of five Gold Sols, potions cost one and a half Gold Sols, and the food bill was about two Gold and twenty-five Silver Sols…”

“Hey, hey… How can the mercenaries’ food be counted as a military expense? They serve my lord, defend the family from foreign enemies, and expand our territory. They deserve to eat for free! Besides, my lord approved the mercenaries’ food standard…” Narsen was enraged, his voice rising, but the renowned Bear of the Northlands couldn’t bring himself to be harsh with his precious little sister. His tone was fraught with panic and frustration. Finally, he looked to Victor for help.

Lilia sighed and softened her tone. “I know the mercenary soldiers should be provided with food by the family, but you can’t deny that if we sold all the grain, fruits, vegetables, and meat consumed by the mercenary legions in a year, it would amount to sixteen thousand two hundred Gold Sols… The stewards and aides under me also receive annual stipends and a free lunch, but they use their salaries to buy daily necessities and their other meals. The mercenary soldiers, however, don’t pay for food or daily necessities, and they get four or five Gold Sols in commission each year, all of which they save up. Their thirty thousand Gold Sols in annual commission doesn’t flow back to us. To us, that’s a net expenditure!”

“My point is, this net expenditure needs to be cut in half, back to the original commission budget of twelve thousand Gold Sols.” After a pause, Lilia emphasized again, “They don’t spend the money anyway, so why give them such high commissions?”

Was five Gold Sols a year in commission for a mercenary soldier a lot?

Not at all. Five Gold Sols was equal to one hundred and eighty Silver Sols. Over a year of sixteen months, the mercenary soldiers fought on the front lines, transported supplies, built fortifications, and patrolled the territory. Receiving a military pay of eleven Silver and nine Copper Sols per month was not much at all.

Could the mercenaries’ military pay be docked?

Of course not. Docking their pay would cause the mercenary legions’ morale to collapse and severely damage the prestige of the House of Randell. No one would be willing to join the Randell family’s mercenary legions ever again.

The mercenaries’ pay was neither high, nor could it be docked. Lilia couldn’t possibly fail to understand this. Her playing the villain was surely to set the stage for someone else.

A faint smile played on Nicole’s lips. Her demeanor was serene and calm, as if the confrontation between the siblings had nothing to do with her.

Narsen was renowned and powerful. He cultivated the Mind Bloodline secret art and had created the Berserk Bear and Raging Ape combat techniques. Among the Silver Knights of the Centaur Hills, besides Raging Wave Knight Trisley, no one could be certain of defeating him. As the commander of the southern fortress and the military leader of the House of Randell, his influence could not be ignored, regardless of his personal wishes.

In the two and a half years Victor was away, working with Narsen would not have been easy for Nicole.

Forbearance was necessary for Nicole, but constant retreat was out of the question… The mercenary legions originally had thirty-eight hundred men. After losing over four hundred in the early stages of the Fishman War, only thirty-three hundred remained. Yet Lilia had said the First Legion had forty-one hundred men, which meant Narsen had recruited another eight hundred new recruits… His character was pure and his will firm; otherwise, he could never have reached the high-tier of a Silver Knight. Narsen would never become corrupt, but he had spent too long in the army. His colleagues and subordinates knew his temperament all too well, and it was inevitable that they would curry favor from above and below, getting connected individuals into the mercenary legions… Without a doubt, the core of the First Legion had formed a political faction around Narsen… Narsen is loyal to me, and even I would intervene to curb the First Legion’s expansion of power. So how could Nicole not?

Rather than giving ground step by step, it was better to take the initiative! Nicole first had Jomosen encourage Narsen to form the Second Legion. Firstly, the southern fortress truly needed enough soldiers to fend off the next Ant-man tide. Secondly, expanding the mercenary force with a Second Legion could disrupt the internal structure of the First Legion, allowing for a reshuffle before they could a achieve balance and consolidate their power, letting the two legions serve as checks and balances on each other… When that oaf Narsen sought Nicole’s approval for the expansion, she decisively signed off on it. But she didn’t get involved herself, instead sending Narsen directly to Lilia for the funds… That little miser Lilia had her brother wrapped around her little finger. Did Narsen think getting money from her would be that easy?

Failing to get the money, Narsen went back to Nicole… Lilia always liked to stay in Nicole’s good graces, and a single word from Nicole would make her obediently hand over the money. But Nicole obviously wouldn’t do that; otherwise, she would have gone to Lilia herself in the first place… The money was squeezed out bit by bit. Narsen was overjoyed, but Lilia’s heart ached more and more. The financial problems she saw became increasingly severe, and her thinking grew clearer. She had actually discovered an economic principle… Under Nicole’s deliberate guidance, the conflict between Lilia and Narsen was not a sibling squabble, but a system of mutual checks between the House of Randell’s civil and military systems… This was simply brilliant.

How proud was Trisley’s character? She didn’t even hold Narsen in high regard. The only reason she was willing to perform the body reconstruction for Lilia was entirely out of respect for Nicole… Ah, so that’s why Nicole, that big jar of vinegar, would let me be with Lilia. It turned out she had already won Lilia over completely.

My darling Nicole has grown… Victor’s feelings were quite complex. He was proud of Nicole’s growth, yet also felt a pang of nostalgia for his own past, recalling what Sylvia had told him on the night before he left Rose Manor:

Your light is too brilliant, it will only cause those under you to dim and slumber. A Guardian should remain behind the scenes, controlling the overall situation, so that others can shine and have room to grow.

Hasn’t my own growth been the same… Nicole has been setting up this scheme for two years. I shall lend her a hand.

Victor turned to look at Nicole, nodding with a smile. “My dear, what is your opinion?”

Nicole’s eyes shimmered as she said solemnly, “Although the mercenary soldiers come from humble origins, they are willing to fight for the family, and I consider them a part of the family. A mercenary who serves for twenty-five years becomes a Vassal soldier of the family. If they die in battle, their merits are not diminished, and their wives, children, parents, and siblings are protected… We absolutely must not go back on our word! I believe that the commissions and rewards for the mercenary soldiers can only be increased, not decreased!”

Narsen stood up, bowed solemnly, and declared, “My Lady is wise! Oh… but this is still for Lord Randell to decide.”

“But…”

“Little sister Lilia, don’t be anxious.”

Nicole smiled faintly, patting the back of Lilia’s hand. Her gaze shifted to Narsen, and she said in a soft voice, “Lord Narsen, the mercenary legions consume forty to fifty thousand Gold Sols of the family’s budget annually. For the family, this is indeed a heavy burden. I believe the expansion of the mercenary legions must be adjusted according to the family’s financial situation. I suggest that from now on, without a direct order or commission from Lord Randell, no one is to expand the ranks of the mercenary legions.”

Nicole turned her head and smiled radiantly at Victor. “My lord, Lilia said that the food consumed by the mercenary legions each year is worth over ten thousand Gold Sols. This is also a fact, but we cannot cut the soldiers’ food supply. However, the Swiftbirds raised by the family eat better than the soldiers, and their food consumption is four times that of a normal person. There are currently over thirty-six hundred of them, and their numbers will only grow larger in the future… If we must cut financial expenditures, let’s cut from there… I suggest we distribute the Swiftbirds to other families for them to raise and breed, or charge a fee to raise them on their behalf. If we can save on the Swiftbirds’ feed, selling it would also be a significant source of income.”

Victor rubbed his nose and said with a look of resignation, “All this talk of cuts, and they ended up on my head…”

“Alright, I approve all of My Lady Nicole’s counsel!”

Chapter 549: Stimulating Domestic Demand

Initially, only the House of Randell possessed the technical means to domesticate and rear Swiftbird war-fowl in all of the Centaur Hills. Sylvia and Victor had reached an agreement: Goldwater City would give the several hundred wild Swiftbirds it had collected to the House of Randell, and Victor would, in turn, provide Goldwater City with a fixed proportion of Swiftbird war-fowl each year, with a minimum of no less than forty birds annually.

The benefit of this agreement was that the House of Randell expanded its Swiftbird population and further perfected its techniques for selective breeding, rearing, domestication, and combat training, allowing them to be the first to form an elite unit of Swiftbird light cavalry. In particular, Imosen the Wizard used his innate talent for Wizardry to stimulate the Swiftbirds’ Bloodline instincts and alter their diet, transforming the flock of lazy, fat, foolish birds into true land-bound birds of prey.

The Randell Swiftbirds were now solidly muscled, with significant improvements in their stamina, explosive power, sprint speed, load-bearing capacity, and will to fight. The proportion of meat in their diet had increased, and they no longer relied on the sugar-rich leaves of the Purple Cane; a little raw sugar added to their plant-based feed was all they needed. This meant the Swiftbird light cavalry had broken through its geographical limitations and was now capable of campaigning far from home.

As the number and capabilities of the Randell Swiftbirds grew, the regular deployment of Swiftbird light cavalry was on the horizon, but the drawbacks of centralized rearing were also becoming apparent.

Swiftbirds simply ate too much. The food consumed by a single adult Swiftbird each year was worth eight Gold Sols. With over thirty-six hundred Swiftbirds of various sizes, Victor was spending nearly twenty thousand Gold Sols a year to feed them. Half of these were female birds unsuitable for combat, and the House of Randell bore the entire cost of their upkeep, which had a significant negative impact on the fief’s economy.

Nicole had proposed dispersing the Swiftbirds to the other lords of the Centaur Hills for decentralized rearing. This was a good way to reduce the risks of cultivation and the cost of feeding the Randell Swiftbirds.

The Swiftbirds were not the only ones eating and drinking for free in the Randell Fief. Mercenary soldiers and children between the ages of four and eight also received free meals. While one could argue the Swiftbirds and mercenaries served the House of Randell with their lives, Victor funding the upbringing of his subjects’ children seemed a bit overly benevolent.

Even in the modern societies of Earth, few countries could manage such a feat.

However, this world was not Earth. All resources within a fief, including its subjects, belonged to the lord. From this perspective, all subjects were eating and drinking for free. If a nation on Earth concentrated resources in its own hands to the same degree as Victor, levying a seventy percent income tax on its subjects and conscripting them for four months of labor service each year, all while expecting them to raise their own children, it would undoubtedly incite a popular revolt!

The people of this world would not rebel, but they would flee. A lord’s benevolent Virtues were, in fact, an investment in and a competition for human resources.

Lilia believed that if the grain, fruits, and vegetables consumed by the mercenary legion each year were sold, it could increase the family’s fiscal revenue by sixteen thousand Gold Sols. From this, she deduced that the food supply should be included in the mercenary legion’s budget.

Her reasoning seemed sound, but unfortunately, she only saw half the picture. Moreover, this kind of thinking was fundamentally at odds with Victor’s philosophy of viewing his people as an asset.

Nicole had only suggested cutting the financial expenditure for rearing Swiftbirds; she hadn’t dared to challenge Victor’s general education policy. However, by classifying the cost of feeding the Swiftbirds as a family financial expense, she had clearly accepted Lilia’s method of calculating wealth. The school for general education was currently raising over twenty thousand children. In the future, when that number became one hundred thousand, or two hundred thousand, could the family’s upper echelons, having accepted Lilia’s ideology, firmly continue to implement the general education policy? They might not dare to defy His Highness Randell’s will, but as the executors and administrators, they would find many clever ways to cut corners on child-rearing funds.

Victor felt it was necessary to once again unify the ideological understanding of the House of Randell’s management.

Lightly tapping the solid wood table to draw the attendees’ attention, Victor turned to Nicole and asked, “My dear, did you just say that the family is paying a great price to implement the pro-natalist policies I drafted?”

Nicole nodded. “Through the Church, you give every pregnant woman a relief payment of eight Copper Sols per month. For the first child, a family receives a pair of ground lizards; for the second, two pairs of ground lizards; for the third, a green-feathered goose; and for the fourth, a sheep. In addition, after a newborn is weaned from its mother’s milk, we must ensure they receive a cup of cow’s or goat’s milk every day until they turn eight… Tenant households practice monogamy. The Randell Fief now has more than thirty thousand young married couples. If they have a child every two years, the fief will welcome more than ten thousand newborns annually. After eight years, that’s one hundred and twenty thousand young children… It’s an astonishing number, and our investment is unimaginably large.”

“What a beautiful vision. With children drinking milk every day, they will grow up big and strong. When they turn eight and graduate from the school for general education, they’ll be able to help with light chores at home… Unfortunately, we won’t actually reach those numbers. By my estimate, with the family’s current population, we’ll be lucky to have seven thousand newborns a year,” Victor said with a smile, then shook his head in regret.

Nicole’s eyes were filled with helplessness. “In fact, to reduce the so-called mortality rate, we’ve had to recruit more women over the age of forty-five and organize more nursing corps to assist the Church’s medical relief efforts in response to the baby boom in the fief… Each nurse is considered half of a strong laborer, and we have to offer them higher wages to keep them dedicated to their work… This is yet another huge expense.”

Victor smiled and said, “A young couple can rent eighty mu of land. With a three-year crop rotation, they still have to plant twenty-five mu of wheat and twenty-five mu of ground-potatoes or fodder grass in a year… A single man can handle that much work with ease. If he works hard for his thirty percent share of the harvest, with no wilderness resources to gather, he can support a family of two or three at most. If he strives so hard yet still can’t support more children, then in the future, who will till our fields and work for us?”

“The wool comes from the sheep’s own back. Since the lord takes seventy percent of the tenant’s harvest, he has the responsibility to ensure the livelihood of the tenant’s family.”

Victor then turned and asked, “Lilia, you said that the free food for the mercenaries and the children in the school for general education has reduced the family’s financial income…”

Lilia pouted her red lips and muttered aggrievedly, “I didn’t say anything about the children…”

“The principle is the same. The number of children in the school for general education will only increase, and this is what I require. For this, I am willing, and I must, provide them with free food.”

Victor continued, “If we measure it purely in terms of currency, the family’s financial income mainly comes from commodity trade, transaction taxes, and minting coins. Financial expenditures, on the other hand, are reflected in procurement of goods and payment of salaries.”

“Last year, what were the main goods the family purchased from outside?”

Lilia thought for a moment and replied, “Stone, decorative materials, and wood for the construction of the cathedral; soft silver ore for the inner wall; large quantities of charcoal, and high-quality redwood from the Gloomy Forest stockpiled for shipbuilding… There was also raw iron, refined iron ore, copper ore, and salt… The most expensive items by unit price were potion ingredients.”

Victor nodded. “All these materials have to be bought with money… Where does the money come from? From selling the family’s goods… In the past, food and meat exports were the lion’s share of the family’s regular trade. But now, the fief’s population has grown, the number of people eating for free has increased, and the consumption of food and daily necessities has also risen. The amount of surplus food the family can export is decreasing… You immediately noticed that the family was earning less money while its expenses were growing, so you concluded that the increase in the number of mercenary soldiers and young children had caused a reduction in the family’s financial income.”

“Lilia, let me ask you,” Victor paused, tilting his head. “How much money could the food and meat consumed by the mercenary legion and the school for general education last year have sold for?”

Lilia didn’t understand the intent behind Victor’s question. She bit her lip and looked at him in confusion for a moment before venturing, “Around twenty or thirty thousand Gold Sols?”

“Heh… In your dreams!” Victor chuckled. “All the refugees from the entire Brinol Plains have moved to the Centaur Hills. Why would the Nim family, the Wellington family, and Aerie Fortress still need to purchase food? Right now, the lords of Gambis are all developing the New Agro-husbandry. They’d love to sell their surplus food to me, so how could they possibly still purchase large quantities of wheat flour, beef, mutton, and pork from the Centaur Hills like they did a few years ago?”

“Naville and Dodor do need food and meat… but they are too far from us. Cured meat lasts seven or eight months at most; by the time it got there, it would be spoiled. As for shipping wheat, the cost would increase more than tenfold. How could it compete with the Sassans’ green wheat?”

Victor tapped the table, his gaze sweeping across the room. He sighed and asked:

“My food supplies can’t be turned into money right now, and I don’t want them to rot in the warehouses… Will someone tell me what should be done?”

“I know!”

Narsen’s voice broke the silence in the meeting room. He stood up, his expression excited, and said:

“We store the grain and meat in the bodies of the soldiers and children, making them strong and powerful to expand our territory and cultivate the land for the family!”

“Simple and clear! Rather than let the grain and meat rot in the warehouses, it’s better to use them to cultivate strong soldiers, craftsmen, and farmers!”

Victor slapped the table, nodding with a smile. “Narsen, you are absolutely right.”

Narsen grinned, giving a silent, proud smile as he sat back down.

Lilia was quite crushed. She had thought of it too, but before she could say anything, her oafish brother had beaten her to it. She didn’t know that Narsen had heard Victor explain the theory of the Mind Bloodline secret art—that converting food into external force and inner potential was the most fundamental Bloodline Law of humanity.

“On the other hand, when we raise the children of tenant households, their parents and elders have more energy and time to farm and work, creating more wealth for the family. And when those children grow up, they will have a stronger sense of belonging to the family—that is loyalty! You can think of it as me trading food that can’t be sold and will spoil for loyal, strong soldiers, craftsmen, and farmers.”

“To be honest, only in the Centaur Hills can we implement the school for general education so unimpeded, and so carefully cultivate the future strength of our family… This is our advantage over other fiefs.” Victor’s eyes burned brightly as he spoke. “As long as the tribute the family collects from its subjects is no less than sixty percent, the policy of providing free food and education to children must be upheld. I will not allow anyone to alter the family’s hundred-year plan in any way!”

“This is my will! Do you all understand?” Victor’s tone was solemn, his eyes shimmering with a golden light.

A shiver went through everyone’s hearts, and they all said in unison:

“As you wish, Your Highness, the noble Randell.”

Victor nodded in satisfaction. His tone softened as he said, “But the problem My Lady Lilia has pointed out cannot be ignored. The tenant households, including some subject families, are still in the stage of accumulating wealth. They are reluctant to shop, preferring to save their wages. If the salaries we pay out don’t flow back, the family’s currency reserves will become very tight…” He paused, then turned to Munk the magistrate and smiled. “Munk, think of a way to get the military pay out of the pockets of the mercenary soldiers.”

A wry smile appeared on Monkey’s face. He lowered his head and said thoughtfully:

“My lord, with monogamy being implemented for tenant households, the waitresses in taverns and inns have all married and started families. There’s not much fun to be had in the taverns besides drinking and boasting… In reality, the mercenaries’ pay is all being borrowed by others to get married. The gangs over in Wildwillow City charge forty Gold Sols just to introduce a woman who can bear children. Here in the family’s domain, if you want to arrange a marriage with a family that has a daughter, you have to give fifty Gold Sols first… Most of the disputes in the fief are related to these betrothal deposits.”

Victor stroked his chin and chuckled. “Well, if these fellows can use the money to buy wives and children from outside and bring them back to the fief, it’s not a complete waste.”

“My lord!”

Alice cried out coquettishly, and Nicole also rolled her eyes at Victor. The others joined in with a roar of laughter. Narsen laughed the loudest. Only Jomosen and the others did not dare to be so presumptuous in His Highness Randell’s presence, but their eyes showed surprise and envy.

So, His Highness Randell really did joke around so freely with the members of the round table meeting!

Victor continued to jest, “Farming, working, having children… the lives of the people in the fief are too monotonous. We must enrich their weekend entertainment and make them willing to spend their wages. Otherwise, how are we supposed to collect transaction tax?”

“Munk, besides inns and taverns, are there no other forms of entertainment? If not… you’ll have to invent some. Horse racing, cockfighting, rat fighting, organizing Handball leagues, musical theatre, puppet serials, circus performances… There are plenty of amusements, it just depends on whether you have the ability to organize them.”

Monkey’s eyes lit up, and he said loudly, “My lord, rest assured, I will handle it well.”

“Why should you be the one to do it?” Narsen glared, shouting.

The other town mayors and village heads started clamoring along with him.

“Alright, everyone here can take part in this business, but I am designating my magistrate as the specific operator. Hmph, without the Magistrate’s Office stepping in, it wouldn’t be easy for you to run it properly anyway.” Victor put a stop to the bickering in the conference room and turned to Monkey. “I’m entrusting this matter to you. If anything goes wrong, you will be the one I hold accountable… For anything involving gambling, I will levy a heavy tax, and I’ll set two more rules for you: gambling must not lead people to financial ruin, and those who are addicted to alcohol are useless, so the sale of alcohol must be limited… Didn’t the Magistrate’s Office need more men? I approve. You can start by recruiting one hundred and fifty magistrate’s guards from the Swamp Scouts, but you must maintain order in the fief.”

“Linda, the Inspectorate may select adult attendants from Silver Moon Manor. I will give you forty slots.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Linda was overjoyed. She rose from her seat and curtsied to Victor.

Narsen looked left and right, then pointed to his own nose and said, “So, what about me? My lord, what about the mercenary legion?”

“The mercenary legion will have to pass this year…” Victor spread his hands and said helplessly, “All the remaining attendants and handmaidens at Silver Moon Manor have been given to your sister.”

Lilia gave a haughty sniff and lifted her chin at her dumbfounded brother.

“The Kingdom of Gambis has completed its population distribution, Naville and Dodor are both thinking about bringing in refugees, and the Sasan Empire is no longer sending refugees abroad. Only Sus, Borui, and the Eastern Alliance are exporting refugees, but it will hardly be our turn to absorb refugees from the east. Starting this year, the Centaur Hills will no longer experience large-scale population migrations.”

Victor sighed and leaned his arms on the table. “In other words, for the foreseeable future, the family must fully shift to a strategic contraction. The next few years will be a lean season for the family’s talent pool. Cultivating core talent and retaining the tenant population will be your most important work. You don’t need to worry about finances; just cut down some more Purple Cane, and you’ll have money. I’m giving you such good conditions. If you still let your tenants move to other families, then there’s no need for you to continue sitting in your positions.”

“That’s all for today’s meeting. You are dismissed.” Victor waved his hand, ending the day’s round table meeting.

The attendees bowed and took their leave. Outside the conference room, they automatically split into three groups. Lilia and Linda went with the various town mayors and village heads, including Dennis and Papo; Monkey and Lord Hals, the magistrate of Rose Town, went off together; and Narsen pulled Lord Jomosen into a lounge on the second floor.

Narsen took a bottle of seven-year-aged Purple Cane wine from the liquor cabinet, along with two crystal glasses. He walked to the sofa, sat down, and poured a full glass for Lord Jomosen beside him. He said with a broad smile:

“My lord Victor and I snatched this wine from the mouths of the Ant-men… That year, the Ant-men broke through the Hill Camp and swept across the Randell Fief. My lord and I were hiding from the Ant-man tide, ambushing the Ant-man chief, and scavenging for supplies everywhere. We found twelve barrels of Purple Cane wine in the cellar of the Chapman family’s camp. We’ve kept it until now, and only eight barrels are left. In the entire Silver Moon Manor, Lord Victor only places this seven-year-aged Purple Cane wine in my private lounge… Come, have a taste. What do you think?”

The two clinked their glasses. Jomosen took a sip of the Purple Cane wine and praised, “The flavor is mellow. It’s very good.”

Narsen drained his glass in one go and chuckled. “The taste is actually just average, but I can’t bear to give it to anyone else.”

Jomosen tilted his head back and finished the rest of his wine, smiling. “Then I am truly honored.”

“My friend, you saw it today. The round table meeting is all about grabbing money and people…” Narsen said as he poured more wine. “My sister has the numbers on her side. My wife and those village heads all follow her. That fellow Monkey and Hals are nothing to worry about. Only I am Lord Victor’s number one confidant; the mercenary legion’s budget has never been cut.”

Narsen downed another full glass of wine, set the crystal glass down, and sighed dramatically. “Sigh… With Lord Victor no longer presiding over the round table meetings, life for the mercenary legion is going to be difficult… My sister and My Lady Nicole are very close, and that little miser has always been stingy. She’s never happy when I ask her for money… You are My Lady Nicole’s number one subordinate. The future budget of the mercenary legion is counting on you.”

“My lord, please rest assured. No matter what, I am also the Deputy Commander of the mercenary legion. I will do my utmost to fight for the legion’s budget from My Lady,” Jomosen promised, patting his chest. He paused, then added, “It would be best if my lord could ask His Highness Randell to set a bottom line for the mercenary legion’s budget.”

Narsen’s eyes lit up. He shot to his feet excitedly and said, “Excellent idea! I’ll go find Lord Victor right now.”

Jomosen was startled. Though the idea was his, he was still a little scared that Narsen would give him up so quickly… That was a Highness, after all.

“My lord, there’s no rush,” Jomosen quickly advised. “His Highness Randell is probably speaking with My Lady right now… Perhaps you could find an opportunity to invite His Highness to inspect the mercenary legion. When His Highness is pleased with what he sees, we can then offer our Counsel. The effect will be much better.”

Narsen sat back down on the sofa, thought for a moment, and said with a profound expression, “You have a point…”

Just then, a knock came at the door, followed by an attendant’s voice from outside:

“Lord Narsen, the Master summons you to the study.”

“Alright, I’m on my way.” Narsen stood up and smiled at Jomosen. “My friend, make yourself at home. We’ll have lunch together, and this afternoon we can go hunting in the forest west of Silver Moon Manor. Tonight, we’ll attend the banquet at Laketon Castle.”

“My lord, please, go ahead… Don’t forget about inviting His Highness to inspect the mercenary legion… I mean, at an appropriate time.”

“Don’t worry, I understand.”

Lord Jomosen stood to see him off. After Narsen left the lounge, he muttered to himself in relief:

“Thank goodness, thank goodness…”

Chapter 550: His Highness’s Private Savings

Third floor, study.

“Lord Jomosen has also started strategizing for Narsen… To be precise, he now sees himself as the Deputy Commander of the mercenary legion, not just the lord of a small fief.”

Victor patted Nicole’s smooth, delicate knee and said with a proud smile, “That’s the effect of the round table meeting.”

“You can hear their conversation from a floor away, through a dozen rooms?” Nicole leaned against Victor’s shoulder, raising her slender eyebrows slightly in a show of curiosity and admiration.

Victor nodded and said lightly, “Yes. I am a Legendary-rank extraordinary archer, after all. I can clearly distinguish the slightest sound in more than half of the manor house.”

Noticing her lover’s lack of excitement, Nicole looked surprised and ventured, “Darling, you seem… unhappy?”

Victor fell silent for two seconds, then shook his head and sighed. “When I first stepped into the Legendary-rank, I was very excited. But after a while, it became tedious… When you can perceive every movement around you, there are no more accidents or surprises, only calm and indifference. It’s like watching the little attendants play through a window. You see everything clearly, but you can’t join in, and you feel nothing.”

“…However.”

Changing his tone, Victor pointed to his own head and said with a sly smile, “I can hear when I want to hear, and not when I don’t… To be able to look down with indifference, but also to indulge and enjoy—that is the state of mind an Extraordinary powerhouse should have.”

Her dim eyes regained their captivating sparkle. Nicole hugged Victor’s right arm and pouted coquettishly, “You just love to bully me.”

Looking at Nicole’s charmingly naive expression, Victor recalled her passionate and alluring display the night before and teased, “And I love bullying you.”

Nicole blinked and suddenly asked, “Between me and Tutor Trisley, who do you like to bully more?”

“Uh, we should be discussing business right now.” His Highness Randell’s expression grew awkward, and he changed the subject, saying, “My biggest worry was that your vassals would cling to their little villages and refuse to let go, resisting the Randell Fief’s Centralized Allotted Land System. The round table meeting system is a good solution to this problem.”

“Mm,” Nicole nodded, sitting up straight. She raised a slender hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and said, “In the past two years, I’ve noticed that the Randell Fief’s town mayors, village heads, magistrates, and inspectors, even including Narsen and Lilia, have all been able to see the bigger picture. As long as they’ve attended a round table meeting, the orders I issue are carried out smoothly… Darling, when you created the round table meeting, were you already planning to change the feudal system?”

Meeting Nicole’s adoring gaze, Victor asked with a smile, “How does it feel to have so much power in your hands?”

Nicole’s lips curled into a confident smile, “It feels wonderful.”

Victor nodded. “A lord wants to know what a baron knows, a baron wants to know what a viscount knows… A marquess or a duke wants to know what a king knows, and they always find a way. But it’s very difficult for lower-ranking nobles to get information from the top. The harder it is to obtain, the more they desire to know.”

“The round table meeting provides my subordinates with an opportunity to obtain high-level information, broadening their horizons and making them look beyond their own small villages. Although they can’t decide anything in the meetings, as long as they can listen in, speak, and make requests, they won’t want to give up the chair they’re sitting in. They will spontaneously defend the round table meeting system.”

Victor raised his right hand and clenched his fist, his gaze profound as he said, “In reality, they are defending the power in our hands! They’re defending the Centralized Allotted Land System.”

Nicole said thoughtfully, “No wonder the Chapman family is so desperate to obtain a seat in the Senate… It seems the kingdom’s Senate and House of Nobles are somewhat similar to our round table meetings.”

“You’re right.” Victor nodded. “I didn’t invent the centralized system. The kingdom’s fiefs and the House of Nobles are both products of centralization, and the round table meeting was based on the House of Nobles. Fief lords argue in the House of Nobles, but the Royal Family makes the final decision. The Senate is different; it’s a standard feudal system, serving to consolidate factions and unite the powerful lords of the kingdom. More than seven hundred years ago, the Randt Empire’s imperial family’s Gold Bloodline was severed by the Radiant Knights, yet the empire endured for another four hundred years before splitting into three kingdoms, precisely because the Imperial Senate was still functioning. If the Auguste family had managed to restore their noble bloodline during the time the empire continued, the Randt Empire might not have fragmented and perished.”

Nicole nodded, then asked hesitantly, “Then… in the future, will your Centralized Allotted Land System also become a system of fiefs and a House of Nobles?”

Victor smiled slightly and said, “That is something I will do my utmost to avoid… The Centralized Allotted Land System and the fief system are fundamentally different. It aims to concentrate military, political, and judicial power in the central authority, with each administrative, military, and legal unit being independent of the others, providing checks and balances. That’s why the town mayors and village heads in Randell Fief have no guards and no law enforcement authority; the mercenary legion and the magistrate’s guards do not engage in any production and have no autonomy over their supplies… By the way, your handling of Narsen this time was beautifully done.”

Nicole smiled demurely and said in a sweet voice, “I knew I couldn’t hide it from you… Your Highness is a natural-born sage.”

Victor shook his head and chuckled. “I don’t doubt Narsen’s loyalty, but he’s not the only one in the mercenary legion. Those centurions are also shrewd, capable, and ambitious characters. Below them are captains and corporals, with social ties reaching all the way down to the lowest-status tenant households. Since being a mercenary soldier means free food and drink, a military salary, and learning skills, many people will certainly want to join the legion. It’s a good thing for the family when our subjects revere martial valor and are eager to enlist. But a good thing must be kept in our hands; we can’t let it turn into a bad thing. Narsen has a pure character and lacks political cunning, which actually makes him the most suitable person to command the mercenary legion.”

“I understand.” Nicole nodded. “Once the attendants from Silver Moon Manor hold key positions in the mercenary legion, we won’t have to worry about those ambitious centurions causing us trouble. I now understand the importance of cultivating talent.”

“Hehe, the family is in a transitional phase right now. Once the next generation has grown up, everything will fall into place.” Victor smiled and said, “But the future is ever-changing. I can’t say for sure how long the Centralized Allotted Land System will last… At the very least, I will implement it in the Centaur Hills!”

Nicole snuggled into Victor’s embrace and said softly, “Darling, I will always support you.”

Holding the fragrant, soft female knight, a smile played on Victor’s lips as his thoughts drifted.

The title of Queen of Roses was not for nothing. With Sylvia taking charge of Rose Manor, driving out the turncoat peripheral lords, and leading the family’s Westward Migration to the vast Centaur Hills, the York family already had the makings of a centralized system. Victor had encouraged Duke York and the various lords of the Centaur Hills to form the shareholding Two-headed Lizard Merchant Guild, further strengthening the influence of the Centaur Hills’ political center. By sending stewards to the merchant guild, the vassal lords could stay informed about the Centaur Hills’ trade activities and economic situation, and attending shareholder meetings was equivalent to a round table meeting where they could listen, participate, and voice their opinions.

Victor had already laid the groundwork for the full implementation of the Centralized Allotted Land System in the Centaur Hills; the only obstacle came from the lords of various ranks themselves. However, the lords themselves wanted to centralize power within their own domains. They yearned for a centralized system. While they might resist being centralized in practice, they had no ideological opposition to it. If the Gambis Kingdom were to open up large territories on the Southern Continent and the empire’s political center shifted south, the idea of a centralized system could easily be transformed into a political reality.

Sylvia and Victor had never discussed this issue, but they had a tacit understanding. She had suggested more than once that Victor should form a partner relationship with Katerina.

Regardless of whether Victor wanted a marriage alliance with the Guardian of Duke York’s lineage, developing his own core faction was the top priority. Nicole and Narsen were undoubtedly his right-hand men.

The two sat embracing on the sofa, enjoying a moment of warmth. Before long, the sound of Narsen and Lilia’s footsteps came from the hallway outside the study.

Releasing Nicole’s soft, slender waist, Victor spoke just before the knock came, “Come in.”

Lilia and Narsen entered the study, one after the other. They bowed to Victor and Nicole, then found seats for themselves.

“Darling, come sit by my side.”

Victor patted the spot to his left, motioning for Lilia to sit there, and then said bluntly:

“I am a Highness now, and soon I will be enfeoffed as the Protector of the Kingdom. My power and political influence have already exceeded the scope of the Randell Fief. For the foreseeable future, I will reside at Silver Moon Manor and Rose Manor, alternating every four months. The affairs of House of Randell, big and small, will be left to Lady Nicole.”

Narsen said with a flash of realization, “My lord, you’re going to take charge of the Centaur Hills!”

Victor shook his head with a smile. “What kind of Guardian personally handles trivial matters?”

“Then what do Guardians usually do?” Lilia turned her head and asked curiously.

Victor laughed heartily. “Of course, they amuse themselves. It’s just that the way a Highness amuses himself is different from that of a regular noble. A Gold Knight Highness likes to explore the mysteries of the world’s origin, hone their transcendent combat skills, and find the path to the legendary realm. As for me, I must focus on researching the mysteries of the Mind Bloodline and seek an opportunity to break through to the Saint realm.”

Narsen was taken aback for a moment, then said with utmost sincerity, “My lord, I want to do that too.”

Victor smiled. “I’ll scout the path first. It won’t be too late for you to do the same once you’ve been promoted to a Gold rank Mind Warrior.”

Narsen’s eyes lit up, and he asked, overjoyed, “My lord, I can reach the Gold rank too?”

“Of course. Isn’t Tournans the best example? Even without the enhancement of divine arts, he is still a Legendary realm Ferocious warrior.”

Narsen had an almost blind faith in Victor and exclaimed excitedly, “Yes! There’s nothing my lord can’t do. If you say I can do it, I definitely can!”

Nicole and Lilia were completely baffled. Nicole, after all, was an experienced female knight with a firm will and her own path. Although she was curious about the Mind Warriors Victor mentioned, she didn’t ask, simply sitting quietly by his side. Lilia, however, couldn’t help but ask:

“What… Mind Warriors?”

Victor glanced at her and said, “This morning, I said I would make you as young and beautiful as a female knight. Did you think I was just trying to make you happy? The matter of Mind Warriors is of great importance; only a few people in the entire kingdom know about it. Don’t ask any more questions. When the time is right, I will naturally tell you.”

Lilia was overjoyed, the corners of her mouth curling up uncontrollably. She suddenly recalled Father Miller’s words and muttered to herself, “…Walk towards the light… Walk towards the light. My lord is my light.”

A thought stirred in Victor’s mind. He stroked his chin and said, “Walk towards the light? That sounds like old Miller’s tone… You went to see old Miller. What did you two talk about?”

Lilia’s face instantly turned bright red. She glared fiercely at her brother, who was grinning and about to speak, “Don’t you dare say it! Don’t you dare!”

Suppressing his curiosity, Victor laughed freely. “Fine, don’t tell me… Narsen, you must make a decision on my request to form the first Ranger unit within five days.”

Narsen said with some difficulty, “My lord, if we draw elites from the mercenary legion now to form a 600-man Ranger unit, the legion’s framework might collapse… I need more men to supplement our numbers, but if I transfer them from the Swamp Scouts, then the Swamp Scouts will be shorthanded.”

Victor nodded. “I’ve already thought it through. We originally planned to convert the elite Mountain folk controlled by the Golden Company into the family’s soldiers. Now is the time to execute that plan.” He paused, then asked, “How many Mountain folk mercenaries does the Golden Company’s unlicensed merchant caravan currently have?”

Narsen replied, “Sixty-three smuggling caravans, with about twenty-two hundred mercenaries.”

“Relay my orders. Each smuggling caravan is to pick five of the most obedient young Mountain folk to return to the family. They are to fill the personnel gaps in the smuggling caravans themselves by recruiting from the Mountain folk strongholds. Also, tell Baritt to bring the Bear Company back to report for duty.”

Nicole’s expression shifted slightly. “The Bear Company is currently inside the Sasan Empire. Including men, women, and children, there are nearly two thousand people. To withdraw so many people… I’m afraid they’ll be treated as a refugee band by the Dodor Kingdom and swallowed whole on the way… Could we have them withdraw back to Gambis in batches with the Stag Merchants’ Guild’s caravans?”

Victor frowned, shook his head, and said, “I’m afraid not… We’ve reached a tacit understanding with Sophia. We must separate the Bear Company’s armed force from the Wimbledon Merchant Association.”

“What happened?” Nicole’s face remained impassive, but a hint of barely perceptible glee showed at the corners of her eyes and brows.

Victor, noticing the subtle change, immediately understood that the big jar of vinegar thought he and Sophia had had a falling out. Amused and annoyed, he explained:

“Back when Narsen killed the Golden Dawn Sparrow Earl in DeWeimik’s territory, Sasan’s Bronze-Halberd City and Dodor’s Stonetooth City grew wary of the infiltration capabilities of Sophia’s mercenaries. They demanded that Sophia give up her mercenary force before they would discuss cooperation. Stonetooth City and Bronze-Halberd City are the Protectors of the Southern Realm for Dodor and Sasan respectively. Their geographical locations are crucial. As long as they’re willing to cooperate, the Golden Company can monopolize the cross-border trade of the northern-route freemen caravans. Lady Sylvia has asked us to first show our sincerity and help Sophia through this difficult time. Therefore, the Wimbledon Merchant Association must make a gesture of cutting ties with the Bear Company and can no longer bring them back.”

Nicole pouted and asked, “Then what should we do?”

Victor said, vexed, “Let Baritt act as he sees fit. I suggest he disperse his forces and try to detour through the Warton Great Plains and Naville to return to Gambis. I’ll write a letter to King Rex and ask him to let them pass… No, that won’t work. The people of the plains have a custom of ‘persuading’ guests to stay. The Bear Company won’t make it back if they disperse, but if they stick together, I can’t expose my connection to them. Otherwise, the infamous rumor of His Highness Randell dispatching troops abroad will spread like wildfire…”

Seeing his master’s troubled expression, Narsen spoke up, “My lord, the Bear Company was originally formed to study grand legion tactics. Why not just let them go test their mettle against the centaurs in the Northern Wildlands… In my experience, Sasan lords will definitely need to recruit mercenary companies when developing their fiefs!”

Lilia said angrily, “How could you even think of that! Wouldn’t sending Uncle Baritt to fight centaurs be sending him to his death?”

Narsen said nonchalantly, “That’s what we used to do for a living.”

“We used to fight Gnolls, not centaurs!” Lilia retorted.

Gnolls? The Bear Company can handle Gnolls… A flash of inspiration struck Victor, and he smiled. “Then let the Bear Company temporarily accept employment from the Dodor Kingdom. They can go near the Ghost Forest on the west side of the Warton Great Plains and see if the claws of the plains Gnolls are sharp enough.”

Nicole frowned. “In the end, the Bear Company will still be absorbed by a Dodor lord.”

Victor said lightly, “It doesn’t matter. I have no use for people who would defect to a Dodor lord. Some people… they can’t be poached no matter how hard others might try.” He took Nicole’s hand and said softly, “Darling, I will explain it to you in the future.”

Having been by Victor’s side for so long, Nicole was somewhat aware of the Randell family’s Mystic Warriors. But since Victor didn’t speak of it, she wouldn’t ask.

“Darling, without secrets, there’s no fun. And some secrets shouldn’t be dug up carelessly.” Nicole used Sylvia’s tone to close the topic, implying that Sylvia was also remaining silent on the matter.

Victor nodded in understanding. Having stepped into the legendary realm and come into contact with the secrets of the Great Divination, he understood that Sylvia and Miller were also wary of an existence beyond the physical world.

Narsen looked around, pretending he hadn’t heard anything. After all, it was Victor who had told him not to mention the elite warriors to anyone. Although Nicole was the lady of House Randell, she was not his master. He even felt a little smug, believing that the Bear Company was Victor’s true core confidant faction.

Lilia bit her lip, changed the subject, and said, “Victor, the gift money you brought back from Naville, are you going to deposit it into the family treasury?”

Victor laughed heartily. “Don’t even think about it. That’s my private savings!”

“What do you need so much money for?” Lilia muttered, looking down.

Victor asked with a grin, “How much money is there?”

“The Kingdom of Sus commissioned the Church to pay a seventy-thousand-Gold-Sol bounty for the Gnolls. Adding the Church’s twenty thousand Gold Sol, we collected a total of ninety thousand Gold Sol from Bishop Pello.” Nicole said with a smile on her lips, “The treasure Elina brought back has been inventoried. There’s three hundred twenty thousand Gold Sol in gift money, twenty-three pounds of Adamantine, 3.2 tons of gold ingots of varying quality, and six whole carriages of other valuable gifts whose value has yet to be estimated.”

Lilia shook Victor’s arm and wheedled, “Darling, you have four hundred ten thousand Gold Sol. Just spare a little, please.”

Victor dodged the question and asked, “How much money is in the family treasury and the Golden Company’s treasury?”

“The Golden Company’s treasury has ninety-five thousand Gold Sol, and the family treasury has… has one hundred fifty thousand Gold Sol,” Lilia said haltingly.

Victor sneered, “The family treasury has one hundred fifty thousand Gold Sol, and you still have your eyes on my private treasury?”

Lilia pressed on, unwilling to give up, “You have so much money now… so can the money in the Golden Company’s treasury be merged into the family treasury?”

“The money in the Golden Company’s treasury is also my private savings!”

Victor rolled his eyes and said righteously, “His Highness Randell has a total of only five hundred thousand Gold Sol in private savings. Is that a lot? Do you think my research into the Mind Bloodline secret art and training Mind Warriors is free?”

Chapter 551: A Hall Full of Talent

The funds in the Randall family treasury came from the family’s annual fiscal surplus. The gold coins inside almost only ever went in, never out. Over seven years, a total of one hundred and fifty thousand Gold Sols had been amassed. The Golden Company’s treasury held the net profits that the smuggling caravans turned over to Victor. The Golden Company’s expansion, Quicksilver’s budget, and the daily expenses of the lord’s personal guard were all paid from it. Only the remaining money could be fed to the Alchemy Tower. After deducting all necessary expenditures and setting aside sufficient risk funds, the Golden Company’s treasury could provide the Alchemy Tower with, at most, five or six thousand Gold Sols per year.

Besides the fiscal surplus and the Golden Company’s net profit, Victor had another enormous source of extra income—the various resources and goods from the mountain stronghold that had been liquidated through the Golden Company in recent years. This included the swamp resources gathered by the Half-dragon and Goblin slaves.

Thus, Victor’s private savings were not just five hundred thousand Gold Sols, but six hundred and ten thousand. The other one hundred and ten thousand was the wealth created by the mountain stronghold.

Six hundred thousand Gold Sols was undoubtedly a huge sum, but for a bottomless pit like the Alchemy Tower, it was nothing much, equivalent to only twelve Alchemical Dragon-Lizards, or fifty Alchemical Soldiers, or one hundred and twenty-two level-three Gryphon Militiamen.

Over the past few years, the Randell Fief and the Golden Company had developed by leaps and bounds. The mercenary army, smuggling caravans, and Quicksilver had all doubled in scale. To ensure that every mercenary hundred-man company and every smuggling caravan had absolutely loyal Alchemical humans, Victor had created a large number of Alchemical auxiliary soldiers. Despite this, the alchemical creatures were still in short supply. This caused the number of Alchemical humans at the mountain stronghold to plummet, turning it from a production base into a social skills training base. The labor force barely remained at around two hundred people, and the output of materials and goods dwindled, causing Victor’s secret income to drop drastically. He simply ordered the mountain stronghold to specialize in processing and stockpiling the swamp resources gathered by the Half-dragons and Goblins.

If Victor hadn’t received a huge sum of remuneration and rewards from Naville, the Alchemy Tower’s plan to upgrade the Alchemical militia would have likely fallen through.

In truth, the expansion of Victor’s forces was limited by the Alchemy Tower’s production capacity, but at its root, it was still a matter of money.

Rapidly expanding one’s forces was indeed expensive, but the benefits were also obvious. Victor’s will could now reach the Sasan Empire several thousand kilometers away; he could draw mountain folk hunters from the strongholds controlled by the Golden Company; and he could acquire specialty resources from various kingdoms. But no matter how tempting the prospect of expanding his power was, Victor would not draw funds from the family treasury to meet the Alchemy Tower’s needs.

This was because Victor’s purpose in developing the family and the Golden Company was to fully control the right to use the Alchemy Tower—to be able to use it or let it lie idle, not to be held hostage by it.

For the next twenty years, the Alchemy Tower would continue to play a key transitional role. By the time the next generation of the Randell Fief grew up, and by the time a combat technique from the Mind Bloodline secret art could be popularized, Victor’s initial goal could be realized. The subjects of Randell would be the main body of the primary force, the level-three Alchemical militia would serve as the elite armed force, and the Alchemical auxiliary soldiers would specialize as technical craftsmen. This was Victor’s ideal personnel structure.

Nicole and Lilia were unaware of Victor’s thoughts. They were worried that His Highness Randell would take the money from his private treasury to Rose Manor to help the other families in the Centaur Hills develop their territories. They tried everything from dropping hints and acting cute to wheedling and pestering. They exhausted all their tricks, clinging to Victor for an entire afternoon, but failed to pry a single Gold Sol from his private treasury. In the end, Lilia could only help Nicole bathe, change, and do her makeup, preparing to attend the family banquet at Laketon Castle.

As evening approached, the attendants and handmaidens who had been helping at the school for general education returned to Silver Moon Manor one by one. The first person Victor saw was Beldina.

She was surrounded by Brandon, Klaus, and Shirley in the middle of the attendants. She wore a small blue handmaiden’s dress. Her face was still round and chubby, but she had grown much taller, and one could even see the budding curves of her figure. With bright eyes and pearly teeth, her skin as white as milk, she looked like a little girl just over ten years old. The moment she saw Victor, she picked up her skirt and ran wildly across the lawn, giggling as she leaped into his arms. Then she clung to him like a little bear, eager to show off.

“Master, Bel has grown taller… Bel has grown taller! Wow, Master’s eyes are so beautiful.”

Having advanced to the Legendary realm, Victor possessed a natural majesty. If he didn’t restrain his spiritual power, ordinary people wouldn’t dare to look him in the eye. This also deepened the chasm between him and the mortal world. Beldina’s natural display of affection and innocence was an emotional experience he cherished.

She’s actually developing… my daughter has turned into a little sister. She’s not as fun as she used to be.

Holding Beldina’s soft body, Victor grumbled inwardly. He placed Beldina back on the ground, patted her head, and said with a warm smile, “You really have grown taller…” He paused, then deliberately teased her, “And you’ve become prettier, just not as cute as you used to be.”

Bel dropped back from her tiptoes, blinked her large, long-lashed eyes, and puffed up her cheeks as she argued, “No matter how tall Bel gets, she’ll still be as cute as before!”

Victor teased, drawing out his words, “Oh, really? Well then… roll around on the ground for me. Let me see if you’re the same as before.”

Plop… Bel immediately lay down on the lawn and started to roll, muttering as she did.

“Am I the same as before? Am I the same as before?”

Victor burst into joyous laughter. The people around them couldn’t help but stifle their own laughter. The tall and sturdy Caligula, seeing how happily Bel was rolling on the lawn, also got down and started rolling. His massive body was surprisingly agile, changing direction instantly to avoid touching Beldina.

Nicole shot Victor a reproachful glare, then stepped forward to pick up little Bel, who was now in a rolling competition with Aka. She brushed the grass clippings from her clothes and chided in a doting tone:

“Stop fooling around! Go take a bath and change your clothes. We have to go to Laketon Castle to preside over the evening banquet soon… Caligula, get up already!”

Only after Caligula scrambled up from the ground did the little attendants step forward to give Victor a one-knee kneel, saying in unison, “Welcome back to the family, Master Randall.”

Victor’s sharp gaze swept over the thirty new little attendants. Most of them were under ten years of age. Their Bloodlines were not yet apparent, but their looks and physical condition were clearly superior to the first batch of children from wandering noble families. In fact, these children from the Eastern Alliance were products of endogamy within their families; the success rate of refining their Bloodlines would be no less than sixty percent.

“All of you, rise,” Victor commanded, then gestured for Shirley to come over.

Shirley was now an eleven-year-old girl. Having not seen the master she was fondest of for over two years, she felt a little shy and timid. She walked forward with a fluttering heart, but Victor patted her head, and a blush of shy delight instantly rose on her delicate little face. This was a special treatment reserved for her and Beldina.

“Shirley, go find Bel.”

Victor smiled faintly and turned his gaze to a little attendant beside Brandon. He had brown hair and blue eyes, with delicate and handsome features, at the age of ten, somewhere between a boy and a youth.

“You must be Dick?”

“Dick greets the Master,” the little attendant said, bowing nervously.

“I’ll remember you,” Victor nodded, retracting the golden light in his eyes. He then ordered, “Brandon, Klaus, take Dick to the attendant’s bathroom in the lord’s residence to bathe. The rest of you, hurry to the main bathhouse and wash up.”

In this world, Knights and commoners had to be treated differently. As Dick had naturally awakened his Aura, he earned the right to have his own room in the lord’s residence. The other little attendants obediently headed for the large bathhouse behind the mansion.

“This batch of attendants is of good quality,” Victor said, turning his head to smile at Nicole. “It would be even better if more of them could naturally awaken their Aura.”

Nicole nudged her chin towards Caligula, who was walking among the little attendants, and said, “Aka is already an adult. It’s not appropriate for him to be mixing with the little ones anymore.”

Victor looked at Caligula’s giant-like back and fell silent for a moment before saying, “He lost an opportunity for mental growth in Naville… I wonder if Aka will ever be able to trigger his own courage in the future.”

The evening banquet at Laketon Castle was held on time. All of Victor’s earliest followers attended. He also saw Imosen and his two young wives.

However, Imosen had deliberately chosen to sit in the most remote corner, afraid of being noticed. Victor pretended not to see him, and Beldina was also well-behaved enough not to go looking for her old father. This little one with her luck aura was also a conspicuous character; Father Dayn and his Adjudicators repeatedly gave the best food to Beldina.

Next to Dayn sat the old nun Kalila from South Hill Monastery and Kai, the head of missionaries for the school for general education. They were all clergy from Clement’s line.

However, Victor’s attention was mainly focused on Miller. His hopes of finding a way to break through to the Saint realm probably rested on this God-favored man.

His Highness Randall kept casting “looks full of tender affection” in his direction, making the old priest feel uncomfortable all over. Before the attendants could even bring out the evening’s showpiece dish, he had already excused himself from the table.

Victor was secretly amused, but now was not the time for a deep conversation with Miller. His gaze swept across the hall, and a sense of absurdity washed over him. Wizards and clergy shared the same table, yet they were all forces he could use.

Victor suddenly realized that the extraordinary power gathered around him was uncommonly strong… Father Miller, a God-favored comparable to a Spirit Knight; Imoson the Wizard, a powerful Wizard who controlled a Half-dragon tribe and thousands of Goblin slaves, whose innate Wizardry was at least Legendary-level, regardless of whether his Spirit attribute had reached that realm; Dayn, a Gold-rank, fifth-rank priest; the lovely little Beldina, whose abilities were hard to determine; Caligula, a Ferocious human who had mastered the Touch of the Mind, whose Spirit had reached the Gold rank, though he lacked combat capability; Narsen, a Ferocious warrior with both the fire of the mind and combat intuition, who possessed the heart of a champion, making his potential inestimable; Nicole, a potential Raging Wave Knight… Beyond them, the Randell Fief also had one Adjudicator, two third-rank priests, two initial-rank Knights, Jomosen and Hals, and seven apprentice knights, four of whom had naturally awakened their Aura and were sure to become senior knights in the future.

Of course, Victor had not forgotten Judy. It was just that Nicole had demoted her to the mercenary legion to deal with the Fishmen by the river, so she hadn’t received an invitation to the banquet.

Judy had lost Wildwillow City and then openly refused Nicole’s recruitment offer. Neither Lilia nor Narsen would plead for her. Even Victor was unwilling to overrule Nicole on this.

However, the stronger the force, the more troublesome it was, like the Alchemy Tower and Father Miller. A senior knight who could resonate with twenty-four Elemental Nodes was very much in line with His Highness Randell’s needs. He still had to find an opportunity to bring Judy under his command.

After the banquet ended, Narsen ran over and asked Victor to find time to inspect the mercenary legion’s combat operations.

Victor thought for a moment and said, “Then tomorrow morning, we’ll go take a look at the Fishmen battlefield by the Goldwater River.”

Chapter 552: Encouragement

Randell Fief, on the tidal flat position by the Goldwater River.

Hundreds of mercenary soldiers endured the scorching sun, their feet sinking into the soft silt as they advanced to slaughter the fishmen scattered across the riverbank. Clad in hardened cowhide armor and leather helmets, they were divided into combat squads. Each squad consisted of ten men: two archers, two javelin infantry, three spearmen, and three shield-halberd infantry. Three squads formed a thirty-man combat group, staying no more than fifteen meters apart. They arranged themselves in a loose triangular formation, providing alternating cover as they advanced rapidly, continuously killing any fishmen who dared to charge their formation and cutting off others to prevent them from massing for an assault.

The archers freely shot down any fishmen within thirty meters. Those who slipped through the net were met by the concentrated thrusts of the spearmen. The shield-halberd infantry protected their comrades, while the javelin infantry rarely threw their javelins. They served as the squad’s corporal and deputy, responsible for observing the battlefield dynamics and commanding the squad. Only when they encountered a particularly strong fishman would they hurl their javelins and signal their teammates to focus fire on the target.

Rash and brave fishmen were, after all, a rarity. Most of them dove into the water in time, leaving only a few dozen of their corpses on the vast riverbank. The mercenary soldiers quickly retrieved their arrows and javelins and retreated.

On the surface of the Goldwater River, fishman heads began to appear, their frequency increasing until an unusual agitation filled the air. When a thousand fishman heads bobbed on the waves, staring with hateful eyes at the invaders on the riverbank, the oppressive feeling of an impending battle weighed on the heart of every mercenary soldier.

The first fishman climbed onto the bank, followed by another, and another, until they swarmed out of the water. The sunlight reflected off their scales, creating pinpricks of dark light that merged into one sheet, pressing forward like a tide. The cacophony of their comical and bizarre shrieks rose and fell, and as it formed a single wave of sound, the black tide of fishmen surged wildly across the tidal flat.

By this time, the five hundred-odd mercenary soldiers had formed a tight formation. The strong shield-halberd infantry stood in the front rank, their kite shields interlocked to form a solid shield wall. The spearmen were arrayed behind them, their four-meter-long, two-handed spears jutting out from the gaps in the shield wall. The sharp spear tips and the gleaming halberd blades formed a forest of blades.

The infantry phalanx!

The mercenaries’ infantry phalanx looked like a giant beast covered in spikes, baring its fearsome fangs, ready to tear its prey to shreds. But the simple-minded fishmen, intoxicated by their numerical superiority, charged onward. Their webbed feet and lighter weight gave them the ability to sprint across the silt, their charge as fast as galloping horses as they swarmed toward the mercenaries’ iron defense line.

A horn blast sounded as the commander issued an order:

“Front and center, one hundred meters, volley!”

The javelin throwers on the phalanx’s flanks and the archers at the rear unleashed their projectiles in unison. Javelins and arrows fell like a swarm of locusts, wave after wave crashing into the fishman tide. Fishmen tumbled to the ground, blocking their kin behind them, and gaps inevitably appeared in their charging line.

However, the fishmen’s minds were chaotic, and they had no formation to begin with. As long as they outnumbered their opponents, their charge would not stop. The power of arrows volleyed from ordinary greatbows was slightly insufficient. The fishmen’s naturally slimy scale armor offered some protection, and even if they were knocked down by feathered arrows and trampled into the silt by the webbed feet of their comrades, they could still crawl back up, shrieking as they rejoined the charge. Only the heavy javelins could inflict fatal blows, but the javelin throwers were few, and with each man carrying only three javelins, it was not enough to halt the fishmen’s attack.

Nevertheless, the rain of arrows disrupted the rhythm of the fishmen’s charge, causing them to crash into the solid defensive line of shield-halberd infantry and spearmen in waves.

Spears thrust out and halberds swept, sending fishman flesh and blood flying as they died gruesome deaths on the spot. After reaping a wave of fishmen lives, the infantry phalanx would retreat a short distance to prevent corpses from piling up, slowly withdrawing toward the camp behind them.

On an arrow tower in the camp, Victor and Narsen stood side by side, looking down upon the entire battlefield.

“They assemble and disperse with flexibility, advance and retreat in an orderly fashion. For the Second Legion, with half of them new recruits, to perform like this is quite impressive!”

Victor nodded in praise. “Narsen, you’ve done better than I imagined!”

Narsen grinned and seized the opportunity. “My lord, your money wasn’t spent in vain.”

Victor smiled but didn’t take the bait, only saying, “I understand now. There is no invincible method of warfare, only appropriate tactics. The advantage of a Grand Legion lies in its countless minds. When they strive for a single goal, the wisdom and power they unleash surpasses that of any single extraordinary individual, myself included.”

Narsen scratched the back of his head and said, puzzled, “My lord, even I could easily break that infantry phalanx below, to say nothing of you.”

Victor smiled. “It wouldn’t be difficult for me to break the phalanx, and killing a few hundred soldiers is only a matter of time. But the army still creates a problem for me, and they can escalate that problem into a difficult one, and then a fatal flaw… Today, let’s not discuss how armies deal with extraordinary powerhouses, but rather what this mercenary battalion has accomplished that neither you nor I could.”

“The fishmen aren’t as fast as me, nor as strong. They can’t catch me, and they can’t beat me; their numbers are useless. However, if I kill too many and become a Fishman Slayer, they’ll just flee into the river the moment they see me. So, I can’t kill all of them, nor can I attract them. In fact, if I stood alone on this tidal flat, the fishmen would never gather a thousand of their kind just to deal with me. I can’t draw the fishmen out of the river, so how could we build the pier at Port Rose? A legendary powerhouse, by their strength alone, cannot achieve the ultimate goal of the Fishman War. Therefore, in the grand scheme of things, extraordinary powerhouses are never the primary factor in determining the outcome of a conflict between races.”

Victor pointed at the infantry phalanx below. “Over five hundred ordinary soldiers, fighting as they retreat, can continuously draw out the fishmen from this part of the river.” He paused, then added with emotion, “An infantry phalanx can’t handle monsters of enormous size and extraordinary strength, but it’s very effective against opponents of the same size. What’s most commendable is their ability to retreat in unison, making the fishmen mistakenly believe the invaders are cowardly and fleeing, which in turn makes them summon more reinforcements.”

“However, a five hundred-man phalanx is a bit thin. The flanks and the rear are especially vulnerable. They’ll be finished if the fishmen surround them… If you don’t send someone to support them soon, I suspect things will get ugly.”

The fishmen’s nature was chaotic, but not mindless. Some, finding their frontal assault blocked, began to sweep around the flanks of the infantry phalanx. A tall Savage Fishman, running far faster than its kin, was the first to crash into the phalanx’s left flank. The javelin throwers guarding the flank were elite corporals and decurions, now holding only their last javelin, wielding round shields and longswords. The elite corporal who faced the Savage Fishman’s fierce charge blocked it in time with his round shield, but the difference in strength sent him stumbling backward. Several archers braced his back, and together they pushed the Savage state monster off, while the other javelin throwers took the opportunity to kill the Savage Fishman with their refined iron longswords.

The Savage Fishman, stronger than an ordinary soldier, had failed to inflict any casualties on the mercenaries. But from Victor’s perspective, the left flank of the phalanx had bent backward for a moment. Though it quickly stabilized, the entire phalanx had still fallen into a brief moment of disarray.

From the river, more and more fishmen emerged, their numbers now exceeding two thousand, among them many lightning-fast Savage Fishmen. The infantry phalanx was still over four hundred meters from the safety of the camp. Judging by their relative speeds, the fishmen would surely surround the mercenaries before they could escape.

The situation for these five hundred-odd mercenaries could be described as precarious. Narsen, however, was full of confidence. “Don’t worry, My lord. This drill is to temper the new recruits’ will and courage, and to build trust between comrades-in-arms. It’s good for them to feel a little pressure from these small monsters… I’ve already made arrangements. Look over there, and over there…”

Following Narsen’s finger, Victor saw a thirty-man knight squad charge out from the hills on both the east and west sides of the riverbank, cutting straight into the battlefield. The fishmen reinforcements, seeing new invaders, changed their direction of attack. The fishman tide’s momentum immediately faltered, and the infantry phalanx steadied its line, resuming its fighting retreat at a fixed rhythm.

The knight on the west was Lord Jomosen. The one leading the charge on the east was Judy.

She had cut her hair short and wore dark red six-legged crocodile hide armor. Wielding an Adamantine longsword and a refined steel knight’s shield, she was at the very tip of the knight squad’s formation, like a tigress charging into the surging fishman tide. A few ferocious shield strikes, each unleashing a ton of explosive force, sent dozens of fishmen flying over twenty meters away. They crashed into the fishmen on either side, sending them tumbling and wailing in agony. A gap was instantly torn in the dense fishman tide, and the thirty elite soldiers plunged in like a sharp knife, their refined iron halberds cleaving into the dazed fishmen and tearing the gap even wider.

Judy slowed her pace, specifically targeting the more threatening fishmen. Whether Savage or ordinary, they were all split in two by a single strike of her longsword.

Victor could in no way connect the delicate and gentle wife of Viscount Briart with the blood-drenched female knight before him.

Narsen, completely oblivious to his master’s current mood, said to himself:

“The pier and anti-fishman wall at Port Rose are already finished. Normally, we just poke at the fishmen a little; we don’t need to form a phalanx to engage them. That actually increases the risk, especially for the knight squads when they withdraw from the battlefield, as they lack cover and our elite soldiers might suffer casualties. We conduct an intense battle like this periodically, mainly to train the courage of the new recruits… But, when fighting fishmen, we have to fight a battle to be lost, not won. If we win this fight, the fishmen in the nearby waters will run off to another riverbank. We’re worried they might go harass the hired laborers at Port Rose. So, in the end, we must withdraw from the battlefield and give this tidal flat back to the fishmen… A battle to be lost, not won, is the hardest to control. It all depends on the knight squads to cover the mercenary soldiers’ retreat, and it’s especially expensive.”

“When we give this tidal flat back to the fishmen, we can’t get back those feathered arrows and javelins.” Narsen said with a cheeky grin, “My lord, even a brainless fishman knows to snap the arrows and javelins before throwing them into the water… We can’t recover them even if we want to. Every training drill consumes a lot of military equipment. We can’t even bear to use the armor-piercing arrows for the greatbowmen. If the mercenary legion could get a little more for its military budget, I’d like to bring the greatbowmen up to test them out.”

Victor pulled his gaze away from Judy and also said, as if to himself, “An extraordinary powerhouse isn’t the primary factor in determining the outcome of a conflict between races, but they can decide the outcome of a single battle.”

“This battle, I will win!”

Drawing two four-finger-wide Adamantine longswords, Victor leaped down from the arrow tower before Narsen’s astonished eyes. His feet tapped the ground, and he cut into the battlefield as swift as wind and lightning.

If the knights’ charge was like a tiger among sheep, an irresistible force, then Victor was an unstoppable hurricane. A black-and-azure aura shrouded him in a four-meter radius. The rushing air itself seemed to be countless invisible blades, sweeping in all directions. A storm of blood and gore erupted wherever he passed, and fishmen heads flew through the air. Even fishmen twenty meters away from him were sliced in two by the wind blades.

The fishman tide, before this all-consuming hurricane, instantly broke and reversed its course. Watching from the arrow tower, Narsen’s blood boiled with excitement. The thick stench of blood ignited the savagery in his heart. His eyes glinted fiercely as he leaped from the tower, ripped the shirt from his body, and bared his muscular chest. He picked up two hundred-pound Adamantine beheading greatswords, and his roar echoed through the entire camp:

“All forces, advance! Follow the Master, and kill all that scum!”

Like a human-shaped evil dragon, Narsen charged onto the tidal flat. His two terrifying beheading greatswords were invincible, sweeping through the fishmen who were fleeing in utter chaos.

The horns for a pitched battle sounded from within the camp, and column after column of soldiers poured out. The infantry phalanx was the first to respond; it dispersed its forces, and its combat squads pounced like wolf packs.

Judy, longsword in hand, stared dazedly at Victor as he strolled toward her. The black-and-azure aura swirled around his body, and his golden eyes shone with nobility and ruthlessness, as if a demonic god, a sovereign of raging winds, had descended upon the world. Any fishman that dared to approach within twenty meters of him was torn apart by the blades of wind.

Powerful and merciless, no one could stop him, no one could fight by his side… Is this His Highness Randall?

“Lady Judy, watch out!” Macy, Lilia’s fierce female guard, shouted at the distracted Judy. A fishman was lunging at her back.

With a flick of her wrist, Judy swung her longsword back and down, bisecting her ambusher without even turning her head.

Victor, dozens of meters away, gave Judy a small smile and an approving nod before turning to leave without a moment’s hesitation.

My dear, did you come to encourage me?

A sudden surge of strength welled up inside Judy, sweeping away her hesitation and sense of loss. Her gaze, now resolute, turned to the fleeing fishmen, her sword following suit.

Chapter 553: Mobile Field Fort

The three thousand mercenary soldiers of the Second Legion charged, and the battle was over in a flash. The Fishmen fled back into the water, not daring to show their heads, leaving behind several hundred corpses on the riverbank. While Lord Jomosen directed his soldiers to clean up the battlefield, Victor and Narsen rode away from the Second Legion’s front-line camp.

“Haha, it’s been a long time since I’ve had this much fun.”

Narsen, now in a simple suit of leather armor, waved his fist excitedly from atop his warhorse. He was still immersed in the exhilarating rush of the battle.

In truth, the Fishmen fled as swiftly as they had charged, and the armored mercenary soldiers couldn’t catch them no matter how hard they tried. The scattering Fishmen were here one moment and gone the next. Narsen had only managed to cut down a little over twenty of them on his rampage from the camp to the river, and the mercenaries following behind him hadn’t managed to claim a single Fishman head. But this did nothing to dampen the soldiers’ excitement and elation.

While a strategy of feigned retreats tested a mercenary legion’s control over the battlefield, the hot-blooded new recruits desperately craved an overwhelming victory. Victor’s magnificent entrance, his invincible fighting style, and the fact that he alone had crushed a wave of Fishmen far exceeded all the mercenaries’ fantasies about their Randell liege lord. It left an indelible impression on every soldier who fought, greatly boosting the legion’s morale and transforming it into the motivation to charge forward and serve their lord in battle.

Winning the soldiers’ devotion was that simple for Victor. He didn’t need to eat and live alongside them or love them like his own children. He only had to display his extraordinary power in battle, and no one could shake his family soldiers’ loyalty to him.

For thousands of years, the ideals of the clergy providing redemption, knights providing protection, and the common folk offering their devotion were already deeply ingrained in the people’s hearts. For the family’s soldiers, it was their honor to offer their faith to the Lord of Radiance and their loyalty to their liege lord. When their liege lord appeared on the battlefield as a Guardian, the family soldiers would never break, even under immense pressure, and would defend their lord to the death.

According to the parlance of Earth, the family’s soldiers were die-hard fans of the Family Guardian.

Legally, the mercenary soldiers of the First and Second Legions were not yet soldiers of House of Randell. The thoughts and fears of being abandoned by the family, or abandoning it, still had fertile ground to grow. To groom these six thousand mercenaries into the backbone of his family army, Victor felt it was necessary to let them experience the glory of following a Family Guardian firsthand.

Of course, this did not come without a price.

Narsen clicked his tongue and said with some regret, “The Second Legion’s training grounds will be unusable for the next half a year… My lord, could you perhaps ask another family to lend us their tidalflat front for a few months? Once the Fishmen in that area return, we’ll give the front back to them…”

There were eleven Fishman-infested tidal flats of various sizes along the Goldwater River in the Randell Fief. All the families in the Centaur Hills had answered the Call to Arms for the Fishman War, dispatching their vassals’ armies and mercenaries to strike at the riverbank Fishmen. However, their mercenary forces averaged less than four hundred men, so they could only attack the smaller tidal flats. The two largest fronts were the responsibility of the Randell family’s mercenary legions. Now that one of those battlefronts had been decimated, Narsen was starting to eye the others.

Victor, however, smiled and said, “You need to train your mercenaries in real combat, but the other families are also honing their own. I think this is for the best. At least it will save me a large sum in military funds for the next few months.”

Narsen’s expression froze. His eyes darted around before he said, “My lord, the craftsmen in Goldwater City have built the modular war-wagon according to your design. It’s at the Laketon barracks. Would you like to go see it?”

Victor’s interest was piqued. “Oh? Take me to see it at once.”

The two of them led their personal guards, spurring their horses along the road toward Laketon. They arrived at the barracks east of the town before noon. After recognizing the riders on their warhorses, the sentries stood down the tower alert and opened the barracks gate.

Narsen and Victor rode straight through the gate, galloping one after the other toward the training grounds at the rear. In an open space, Victor saw a unique structure.

It was less a building and more a fortification. It stood 4.7 meters high, 4.5 meters long, and 2.3 meters wide, formed by two stacked wagon chassis. Its surface was plated with a shell of red copper. The lower wagon was heavy and solid, with three hooked scythe-spears of refined iron protruding from its outer wall. The upper wagon had no roof, and its walls resembled a castle’s battlements, mounting a medium ballista and a small catapult. Combined, they could attack from afar and defend up close, while also providing the advantage of firing from a high position. It could truly be called a small fortress.

Narsen signaled for a guard to take their horses and began his introduction to Victor.

“My lord, I’m no expert when it comes to building wagons, I just know this thing is especially sturdy and useful… Its lower chassis is a supply wagon with a maximum payload of 7.6 tons. It has three arrow slits that can house three heavy crossbowmen. It can also be fitted with hooked scythe-spears. If a large monster like an Ogre gets close to the wagon, we can stab it right in the gut. I guarantee it’ll pull its intestines out… The upper wagon is a light war-wagon with a payload of 2.3 tons. It has a ballista on a swivel base, so it can turn freely to fire. Using refined iron armor-piercing bolts, it can fire one shot every twenty seconds at fastest, with an effective range of five hundred meters. That small catapult is for launching caltrops, but it can also hurl small incendiary projectiles, though its range is only two hundred and eighty meters… Besides these two weapons, the war-wagon is normally crewed by two heavy crossbowmen. For a static defense, we can add another two.”

Victor walked up and knocked on the side wall, feeling its sturdiness. He then activated Surge and tried to give it a push, but the wagon didn’t move an inch. He was greatly satisfied with this. Many large monsters possessed astonishing strength and could easily flip a ten-ton object when enraged, but the wagon’s base had a contact area of ten square meters, and its own weight exceeded that of most monsters. Any monster trying to push it would only succeed in pushing itself away. Tipping it over was virtually impossible, so it naturally couldn’t harm the soldiers inside.

He leaped onto the top of the wagon and entered the war-wagon section, noticing five locking mechanisms on the floor that connected it to the lower wagon, ensuring the upper section was secure and couldn’t be pushed off by a monster. Just then, Narsen also jumped up and pointed to a triangular brace on the wall.

“The master craftsmen in Goldwater City told me this little thing can help the walls withstand large rocks thrown by Ogres… Heh heh, that’s assuming they can even survive crossing the ballista’s firing range. And they’ll have to watch their step… I doubt they’ll be very careful.”

Narsen took a three-pointed caltrop made of refined iron from a bag next to the small catapult, weighing it in his hand with a grin. “This little thing will make a charging monster hop around clutching its foot, then tumble into a ball and get trampled to death by its own comrades… My lord, the master craftsmen can’t stop praising your design. They say you’re a true genius.”

Victor smiled without a word, jumping down to the ground and entering the lower wagon. The interior also had triangular support structures, with three load-bearing pillars added in the middle, making the already small space feel even more cramped. It was filled with sandbags. Narsen stood outside and said:

“The sandbags are filled with dirt to increase the vehicle’s weight, bringing it to eleven tons. When the vehicle is on the move, we can replace them with supplies. As long as it doesn’t exceed eight tons, the wagon moves just fine. And all its parts are standardized, so they can be replaced and repaired on the spot.”

“Standardization is the most important part,” Victor said as he climbed out of the wagon. “How long does it take to reassemble the wheels on the supply and war-wagons and get them moving, and how many men does it require?”

“Thirty trained soldiers can get it moving again in two hours. If we’re just removing the wheels to connect and fix the fortifications, it only takes a little over fifty minutes.” After answering, Narsen asked eagerly, “My lord, shall I have someone demonstrate for you?”

Victor shook his head with a smile and said calmly, “There’s no need. This was my mobile field fort concept to begin with.”

The mobile field fort was a tactical concept designed by Victor for the southern expansion strategy, drawing inspiration from the ancient Huaxian tactics of wagon laagers and powerful crossbows. In unfamiliar territory with difficult supply lines, it allowed for the flexible deployment of a circular wagon formation to establish defensive works, quickly seize key geographical locations, and then leisurely gather natural resources to build a stable bastion.

Humans were physically outmatched by large monsters like Centaurs and Ogres and lacked the ability for a direct confrontation, relying heavily on sturdy fortifications. But building castles and fortresses took time, and lands rich in water and grass were inevitably coveted survival zones for both humans and monsters. Without a fortress, humans would face monster attacks directly. Even if elite Rangers defeated the monsters and beastmen, ordinary mercenary soldiers would still be subject to harassment and surprise attacks. This not only increased the mercenary legion’s casualties but also slowed down the construction of the bastion, trapping the human army in a war of attrition with the monsters. This was because monsters and beastmen would do everything in their power to prevent humans from erecting fortifications in resource-rich areas.

But if the human army already had sturdy fortifications, the situation would be reversed. When monsters failed to break through after prolonged sieges and suffered heavy casualties, they would give up the fight for the territory.

According to Victor’s plan, each mobile field fort would consist of forty lattice-sided freight wagons, seventy supply wagons, and seventy war-wagons, manned by one thousand mercenary soldiers, over one hundred craftsmen and physicians, and a unit of three hundred elite Rangers. A supply wagon and a war-wagon joined together formed a defensive outpost. Seventy such outposts linked with forty lattice-sided freight wagons, supplemented by simple fortifications built from local materials, would be enough to form a temporary field fort.

In addition to the outposts’ ballistae, catapults, and heavy crossbows, the fort’s interior would house over a thousand greatbows and foot-cocked crossbows, giving any attacking enemy a taste of dense arrow volleys and precise kill shots.

Three mobile field forts would constitute a full-strength mercenary legion. Combined, they formed a medium-sized bastion; spread out, they provided mutually supporting positions, establishing an effective defense in depth.

The high-ranked knights of the York family were full of praise for the military concept of the mobile field fort. Sylvia had gathered a group of outstanding craftsmen to build the supply wagons and light war-wagons according to Victor’s specifications. They had been hard at work in Laketon for three years and had finally produced a prototype.

All that remained were issues of standardization and fine-tuning the details. Victor asked, “Do you feel there are any shortcomings with the supply and light war-wagons?”

Narsen replied, “My lord, the main issue is the draft animals. The supply wagon is already as large as it can be. Any bigger and the chassis might break, but any smaller and the interior space wouldn’t be enough. But with a payload of nearly eight tons, it’s too much for one draft horse, but two feels like a waste, consuming a lot of extra fodder and supplies.”

A glint shone in Victor’s eyes. He nodded. “I understand. I’ll think of a solution… Anything else to add?”

Narsen scratched his head and chuckled. “My lord, a supply wagon costs two hundred and eighty Gold Sols to build, and a war-wagon costs seven hundred. The mercenary legion will have to place orders with the Hill Secret Fortress and purchase them with the military fund… You’ve entrusted all family affairs to Lady Nicole, and Lady Nicole is particularly fond of that little miser Lilia. Lilia is definitely going to cut the military budget… You see, couldn’t you set a rule for Lilia, guaranteeing the mercenary legion an annual budget of fifty-five thousand Gold Sols, which cannot be reduced?”

Victor did not know whether to laugh or cry. “It’s not like I’m never coming back, is it? Even if I no longer directly manage family affairs, you, Moline, and the others can still have an audience with me to present your petitions and counsel.”

Narsen muttered, “I’m just afraid My Lady Nicole will lose the argument with you, and then she’ll take her anger out on me… If you set the rules in advance, Lilia will have no reason to go to Lady Nicole to cut the mercenary legion’s budget.”

Victor nodded. “You have a point… I should indeed respect Nicole and Lilia and not overturn their policies lightly… Setting a bottom line for the mercenary legion’s budget in advance can avoid a lot of trouble. However, a budget of fifty-five thousand Gold Sols is a bit high. I’ll set a minimum budget of forty-nine thousand Gold Sols for you. If the budget is insufficient in a given year, you’ll have to explain it and negotiate with Nicole yourself. If there’s a surplus, it will be rolled over into the next year’s military budget.”

“Why forty-nine thousand, and not fifty?” Narsen asked, perplexed.

“It sounds better and is easier to justify if the minimum military budget is under fifty thousand. Lilia’s subordinates won’t get too jealous.”

“Thank you, my lord!” Narsen was overjoyed. He struck his chest with his right fist in a military salute, then paused and added, “My lord, Lady Judy has no handmaidens to attend her. It’s not very dignified for her to keep living in the front-line camp. Do you have any arrangements for her?”

If I reassign Judy the moment I return, it would only cause Nicole to lose face, and they’d never be able to work together in the future… Victor grumbled to himself, then said with a placid expression, “I was never willing to be a mere flower vase, and I certainly don’t need one now… Judy has changed a lot, but I still want to let her stew for a few more days.”

Victor didn’t care about Judy’s current mood or thoughts, and Narsen certainly didn’t either. He shrugged and said, “As you wish, my noble master.”

“Alright, I’m heading back to Silver Moon Manor first. In three days, come to Quicksilver Manor. I have matters to discuss with you.”

“As you command, my lord!”

Patting Narsen on the shoulder, Victor called to his personal guard, mounted his warhorse, and galloped off toward Silver Moon Manor.

Chapter 554: Meeting with Barol

Upon returning to the study in his manor, Victor ordered someone to bring him the blueprints for the supply wagons and light war-wagons.

The blueprints for the two types of wagons filled a large chest. Victor went through every hide paper scroll one by one and was very satisfied. The designs detailed every component of the wagons: the wheels, axles, chassis, walls, arrow slits, mounted crossbows and catapults, and even the support poles and triangular braces, all with precise dimensions and test data.

For craftsmen who relied on experience and inspiration to design and build wagons, perfecting the parameters for assembly and being able to replicate components and assemble the wagons based on those parameters was an incredibly difficult task. To meet Victor’s requirements, the two hundred-plus craftsmen of the York family had toiled for more than three years before finally producing the supply wagons and light war-wagons.

This was the core concept of the Grand Legion Strategy—Standardization.

The Grand Legion was not just a military strategy; it encompassed military affairs, internal administration, education and training, production, and daily life. Once Victor separated the military, administrative, and public security systems, he had to rely on standardization to link the family’s activities in every field and implement the strategic goals of the Grand Legion. Only then could the family become an efficient, unified whole. If a mercenary legion suffered losses, it could be immediately replenished with soldiers and equipment, instantly restoring its combat effectiveness. As long as the family’s foundations remained intact, the mercenary legions could never be completely wiped out.

Faced with a military-political entity that could not be broken, not to mention the other races of the Southern Continent, Victor might even possess the ability to resist should the old rivals of the Alchemical Empire reappear.

The premise was that the Lord of Radiance had indeed altered the Laws of the world, weakening the abilities of extraordinary creatures and closing the gap in individual power between them and humans.

All signs indicated that the Lord of Radiance was very likely the crowning achievement of the Alchemical Empire, and that the ancient Alchemists and Archmages had created Him with the primary goal of changing the balance of power between otherworldly creatures and humans.

If his judgment was wrong, Victor had no better alternative. The Grand Legion was already the most advanced strategic concept he could possibly realize.

Katerina had once advised the noble families of the Centaur Hills to establish mercenary legions of four or five hundred men to avoid the internal drain of an arms race. Only Victor had rejected her advice, steadfastly expanding his 3,800-man mercenary legion to 6,000.

The pioneer war was not expected for another decade or so, and there were currently no major conflicts in the Centaur Hills. The First Legion and Second Legion consumed tens of thousands of Gold Sols every year, and many people could not understand why Victor maintained such a massive army. But what sort of elaborate tactics could one develop with a mercenary army of only four or five hundred men?

These 6,000 mercenary soldiers might not need to cross the river for the southern expansion for over a decade, but they would be used to deduce and refine standardized training, standardized tactics, standardized logistics and supply, standardized military conduct, and standardized equipment use. Tactical concepts like infantry phalanxes, greatbow phalanxes, and mobile field forts simply couldn’t be practiced by two or three thousand mercenaries, let alone used to establish the military standards of a Grand Legion.

Victor invested immense capital and time to establish a set of effective standards. Veteran mercenaries would go to the military school to teach boys aged eight to eleven the Gray Wolf Combat Technique and the legion’s training standards. The two months of annual militia training would ensure that those boys continued to practice both after graduation. Once they came of age, they would be the source of recruits for the mercenary legions. As long as the new recruits were proficient in the legion’s training standards, every 600 veteran mercenaries could form the backbone of a new mercenary legion. Six thousand veteran mercenaries meant that the House of Randell could rapidly expand to ten standard mercenary legions in the near future.

There were surely spies from the Royal Family in the Randell Fief. The supply wagons and light war-wagons were displayed openly on the military training grounds. It wouldn’t be difficult for top craftsmen from Aerie Fortress or other powers to copy, or even improve upon, their design. But without the standardized production molds, standardized assembly components, and standardized operating procedures, what was the use of merely copying the war wagons themselves?

Standardization was the essence!

The House of Randell had come the furthest on the path of standardization. By the time the other major powers reacted, Victor would have already become the one who set and exported those standards. To achieve this goal, the annual fiscal investment of over one hundred thousand Gold Sols was worthwhile, because standardization would become Victor’s immense political capital.

Picking out the blueprints for the wagon shafts of the supply wagons, Victor examined them carefully and agreed that the design requiring two draft horses to pull a single supply wagon was debatable.

Once a standard was established, any modification would have far-reaching implications. If he adopted the blueprints for a shaft designed for two horses, then all future supply wagons would have to be equipped with two heavy draft horses. This was not merely a matter of increasing the budget; it would increase the burden on the entire logistics system.

The supply wagons and light war-wagons served as transport vehicles and fighting platforms, so naturally, the larger their volume and capacity, the better. For technical reasons, the York family craftsmen had maximized the carriage size, but they couldn’t strike a balance with the draft power, creating a situation where one horse couldn’t pull it, but two seemed wasteful.

Thorium could be used to reinforce the wagon chassis, increasing the supply wagon’s size and load capacity to a level that two draft horses could pull. However, modifying the supply wagon’s design would mean the light war-wagon would also have to be changed. Victor was not yet so extravagant as to build wagons out of Thorium.

A feasible solution was to change the draft animals. Alchemical Dragon-Lizards were out of the question; Victor would only use them as Silver-rank war beasts. Wild red bulls were a good option. These powerful herbivores weighed a good 1.7 tonnes, had twice the strength of a heavy draft horse, and possessed incredible stamina, able to migrate thousands of kilometers at a time. They were immensely strong, physically robust, and fierce by nature; even the barbarians considered them formidable beasts worthy of hunting. Every year, Sophia would procure a few particularly ferocious wild red bulls from the Warton Great Plains and have them transported to Raven Town as sacrificial offerings for the barbarians’ newborn rituals.

Tens of millions of wild red bulls inhabited the Warton Great Plains, yet they had never been domesticated. But in this world, there was also no wild animal that Imoson the Wizard couldn’t tame.

The domestication or modification of wild red bulls was automatically added by Victor to Imoson’s list of research projects.

After putting away the war-wagon blueprints, Victor called Reno in, instructing him to return the chest of scrolls to the secret chamber. He then added, “Have Barol come see me.”

“As you command, My lord.” Reno left the study, carrying the large chest.

Victor walked to the window and gazed at the scenery outside. The lawn in front of the manor was empty and seemed a little desolate. After all, even the little foodie Beldina now had proper work to do, spending half of each afternoon as a teacher for young children at the school for general education. The other little attendants were in similar situations, which just went to show that the House of Randell was thriving and gradually getting on the right track. As for himself, he now needed more time and vigor to improve his innate combat techniques, then to delve into the Mind Bloodline secret art, consolidate the noble families of the Centaur Hills, push forward the standardization process there, and participate in the internal and foreign affairs of the Kingdom of Gambis. On top of that, there were matters like the Golden Company’s deployment, the search for Alchemical Empire ruins, infiltrating the Masked Brotherhood, and investigating the movements of the Ant-men and goat-people—all waiting for him to address one by one.

But this did not mean Victor would no longer concern himself with the affairs of the House of Randell. As the family’s Guardian, he had to have a way to maintain control over the overall situation. Besides maintaining communication with the core members of the family, he also controlled the Quicksilver spies, who answered only to him.

Before long, Barol, the Steward of Quicksilver, walked into the lord’s study.

He was dressed in a brown gardener’s uniform and held a straw hat for sun protection. He stooped slightly, his posture respectful and humble, a fawning smile on his face, looking just like a good-natured gardener.

Good-natured gardeners were generally not very skilled, and Barol indeed lacked the craftsman’s touch for tending to flowers and plants. He had managed to secure a gardener’s post at Silver Moon Manor entirely by being good at pleasing his master.

“My lord, you sent for me?”

Victor turned around, sized up Barol, and asked with a smile, “The first thing my vassals say when they see me is to congratulate me on my promotion to a Highness. Why don’t you learn from them?”

Barol bowed and replied, “My lord, no matter your station, Quicksilver is loyal to you and swears fealty only to you.”

Victor smiled, returned to his seat, and leaned back. “I believe you. But the proteges you’ve taken in, apart from Monkey and Red Wolf, don’t know me. How can they be loyal to me?”

“My lord,” Barol said, his eyes cold, “Quicksilver Manor has already trained a batch of family spies who are absolutely loyal to you. Moreover, the young family spies from back then have grown up. They are now scattered throughout the major towns of the various kingdoms, acting as the core of Quicksilver’s inner line, ready to replace Mia, Spider, and Fitch at any time.”

“The ability to replace Quicksilver’s core members at any time is a necessary precaution, but it doesn’t mean we have to act on it.” Victor nodded, then changed the subject. “Your three proteges have rendered meritorious service to Quicksilver’s development. they should be rewarded, not punished… Recall them. I will meet with them personally, allow them to reunite with their families, grant them land and wealth, and also permit them to swear an oath of loyalty to His Highness Randell. I will also grant them power beyond the ordinary, and authority.”

“Your Highness, you truly are a generous and merciful master,” Barol said respectfully.

Victor blinked and said with mock solemnity, “I can take that as praise for my power, wisdom, wealth, and influence. Because a down-and-out noble has no ability to be generous and merciful.”

“My lord, you are truly wise!” Barol said with sincere admiration.

Victor laughed and shook his head. “Your skill at flattery isn’t half as good as Narsen’s.”

Barol gave a wry smile and continued his blatant sucking up: “Honored Master, I too worship your wisdom and power.”

“Alright,” Victor waved a hand, his smile vanishing. He asked, “What is Quicksilver’s current situation?”

“Quicksilver has developed very rapidly. The family-trained spies acting as core members total 157. We have developed over 1,800 people on the inner line, and countless more on the outer line. Mia is hiding in Stonetooth City, nominally leading the Quicksilver organization in the Dodor Kingdom. She has 62 core members and over 600 on the inner line under her. Spider is hiding in Bronze-Halberd City, responsible for the Quicksilver organization in the Sasan Empire, with 34 core members and over 300 on the inner line. Fitch is assisting Tao De, developing Quicksilver in Rainbow City in the northern part of the Kingdom of Sus. He has eight core members and 34 on the inner line. The rest are mainly distributed throughout the towns and cities of Gambis.”

Barol paused for a moment, then elaborated, “In the past two years, the freemen camps in the various kingdoms have been persuaded to leave, disbanded, or absorbed. However, a large portion of the refugees have flocked to capital cities like Bronze-Halberd City and Stonetooth City. There are signs that the great lords are secretly hiring Bards, Rangers, and freelance mercenaries to spread propaganda among the refugees, telling them that the capital cities are prosperous and wealthy, with recruitment points for tenant households, and that the great families regularly recruit tenants from among the refugees. As a result, many refugees want to try their luck in the capital cities to see if they can become tenant households for a great family.”

Victor chuckled at this. “The great lords are snatching up tenant populations from the minor lords beneath them.”

“Yes.” Barol continued, “With the large influx of refugees into the capital cities, the lords need time to convert them into tenant households. The local underworld forces were the first to feel the impact, with new gangs constantly emerging. Coupled with the urban freemen’s demand for more goods, Quicksilver, relying on goods from the Stag Merchant Association and smuggling caravans, quickly developed our own underworld influence in the capital cities.”

Victor nodded and mused, “Quicksilver’s development in the Kingdom of Sus doesn’t seem to be going so smoothly?”

Barol lowered his head and said, “My lord, the underworld forces in the capital cities of the Kingdom of Sus all operate under the banner of the Masked Brotherhood. Tao De and Fitch originally had over a hundred enforcers, but dozens were killed while trying to infiltrate the Sus gangs… Seeing the situation was bad, Tao De and Fitch took the remaining men to Cattail Town, north of Duke Meiding’s duchy. That place is an outpost against the Gnolls of the Twilight Forest, a gathering place for mercenaries, Rangers, and exiled knights. The underworld there is complex, and it’s only a five-day journey from Duke Meiding’s Rainbow City. Fitch is hiding in Cattail Town, remotely controlling Quicksilver’s inner line and trying to find a way to infiltrate Rainbow City.”

Victor frowned slightly and pressed, “Why choose Duke Meiding’s Rainbow City?”

“My lord, the situation in Sus is different from other kingdoms. The land is mostly plains, with few mountains or forests, so there are very few refugee camps or mountain folk settlements. Without refugees, there are no new tenant households. The gangs in the major towns are all placid, making it very difficult for Quicksilver to infiltrate. The enforcers we sent to join local gangs were all treated as patsies, which is why so many died…”

Gangs have their own ways of survival. Each town can only support a certain number of ruffians and enforcers, so outsiders trying to join a gang are practically courting death. When Barol was knocking about in Black Fortress Town, he once ordered his men to lure newly arrived refugees into testing the Goat Tavern opened by Victor. Those refugees all ended up dead at the hands of gang ruffians, who then used their deaths to extort Old John at the Goat Tavern. Newcomers like them are what the gangs call “patsies.”

The gangs in Sus had no room for more members, and the smuggled goods couldn’t be delivered, so it was no surprise that Fitch and Tao De had been beaten black and blue.

“Only Duke Meiding’s Rainbow City is recruiting refugees from the Eastern Alliance. According to Fitch’s report, Rainbow City has already taken in over twenty thousand eastern refugees. Under the cover of these people, Quicksilver can secure a foothold among the underworld forces of Rainbow City.”

Victor tapped the table and nodded. “As the great lord of the northern territories of Sus, Duke Meiding wishes to continue expanding into the Twilight Forest. He does indeed need to gather refugees and turn them into tenant households… But I’ll bet you that among those more than twenty thousand eastern refugees, there are definitely core members of the Masked Brotherhood.”

Barol said in a low voice, “My lord, isn’t it Quicksilver’s mission to infiltrate the Masked Brotherhood and find the Wizard organization behind them? Rest assured, apart from Tao De and a few family spies, the rest of Quicksilver’s inner line, including Fitch, don’t know about the connection between Quicksilver and the House of Randell. Even if they are exposed, those Wizards won’t be able to trace it back to you.”

Victor smiled nonchalantly. “Wizards have all sorts of strange abilities. Who knows if they can trace it back to me or not?” He paused, then asked, “What is Tao De doing?”

“My lord, Tao De has taken the alias Duncan and registered as a Ranger at the church in Cattail Town. He is employed by the local lord to deal with monsters from the Twilight Forest.” Barol said respectfully, “You can find his name on the Church’s Ranger roster, though his ranking is rather low.”

Rangers had a special status. They often had dealings with mercenaries, gangs, and Bards, and could also strike up conversations with priests and nobles, making them a well-informed group. Moreover, Rangers registered with the Church belonged to the Knight-Noble class, so a Wizard would have to be very cautious about dealing with one.

Victor was momentarily startled, then praised with a smile, “That Tao De is quite resourceful… Fitch, on the other hand, is in more danger. Recall Fitch for now and order the Quicksilver spies in the Kingdom of Sus to go dormant. Leave only two lines of contact for Tao De.”

Barol looked up and offered his counsel, “My lord, if we do that, Quicksilver’s development in Rainbow City will be too slow…”

Victor raised a hand to cut him off. “Duke Meiding arranged a marriage alliance between his daughter, Princess Celine, and the eldest son of Grand Duke Peter of the Kingdom of Borea… Grand Duke Peter’s eldest son is named Raymond Peter. He once sent people to assassinate me.”

Barol’s pupils contracted in an instant. His gaze was as sharp as a falcon’s, but he stood perfectly still, listening quietly.

Victor revealed a hint of admiration, then continued, “Of course, I won’t let Raymond go. But his attempt to assassinate a noble of Moon Elf bloodline was very likely instigated by a Wizard organization. My guess is that he is a representative for a Wizard organization from the east… Based on this assumption, there must be members of that Wizard organization among the refugees in Rainbow City. The probability of Quicksilver running into Wizards while developing its underworld network in Rainbow City is very high. What I require is for Quicksilver to plant a mole near Raymond Peter, and I don’t want to alert the enemy over other matters.”

“I issued this order back in Naville… Do you have a concrete plan yet?” Victor asked, leaning back in his chair with a half-smile.

Barol gritted his teeth and answered truthfully, “My lord, we don’t have a single clue… Quicksilver uses a grassroots approach; we know nothing about the customs of the great families. We don’t even know Raymond Peter’s age, appearance, personality, or preferences. Even though Tao De is a Ranger now, his status is too far removed from Raymond’s. He has no way to get close.”

Victor said coldly, “Quicksilver gets whatever money and men it asks for… If you can’t do it, then I’ll have the spies from Aerie Fortress handle it.”

Beads of sweat formed on Barol’s forehead. He bowed with the utmost respect and said, “My lord, please give me five months to formulate a plan. I will also need information on Raymond Peter, especially regarding his assassination attempt on the noble of Moon Elf bloodline. Also, I want to activate Paul.”

Paul was Barol’s most prized protege. Because of his handsome appearance, sharp mind, and noble bearing, he had been sent by Victor to study at the Silver Spire. At first, Paul suffered all kinds of discrimination at the Silver Spire, but as Victor’s status and reputation grew more distinguished, Paul became a sought-after figure among the students there. Victor had even asked the Church to perform two body reconstructions for Paul and another young spy studying at the Spire.

Victor thought for a moment and said, “I don’t intend to have Tao De or Paul go undercover near Raymond. The mole I want must be ignorant and unwitting… We can’t send anyone from the family’s Elite Guards either.”

Barol said, “My lord, I understand your concerns, and I too am very wary of the Wizards’ methods… I want to use Paul to devise a plan and to scout for candidates for the mole. Because right now, he is the person in Quicksilver who best understands high society.”

“Very well.”

Victor nodded in agreement, then asked:

“I once sent you to the Randt Imperial territory to investigate the master of the hunt from Baron Santon’s family eighteen years ago. Have you found anything?”

Chapter 555: Soul Fire Contamination

Imosen and his daughter were captured by the Alchemical militia in the Great Marsh and brought to the mountain stronghold. He claimed to be the master of the hunt for Baron Santon of the three eastern provinces. He also told Victor a story about his newborn daughter being mistaken for a Wizard, her mother being killed by her own brother while protecting the girl, and the Wizard husband, filled with remorse, fleeing to the Great Marsh with his daughter.

Victor valued Imosen’s abilities and wasn’t interested in the truth of the story. It wasn’t until Beldina displayed her unusual luck that he decided to investigate Imosen’s background.

Imosen and Beldina’s abilities were extremely useful. Even if Imosen had lied to Victor, he had no intention of digging deeper, but rather sought to mend any loopholes. Three years ago, he found an excuse to send Barol to Baron Santon’s domain to steal the Santon family’s secret art of animal taming, but forbade Barol from participating in the Alchemical militia’s interrogation of the Santon family’s master of the hunt.

At this moment, Victor’s abrupt question stunned the old spy for a moment. He said, “My lord, the task is complete, but I don’t know the specific details… You’ll have to ask Badu, or read his report.”

Barol was not a Knight, and the changes in his heart rate and breathing rhythm, which did not escape Victor’s Perception, were within the normal range, showing no deliberate concealment.

Victor breathed a small sigh of relief. Barol was a clever man, and the biggest problem with clever men was their heavy curiosity; they wanted to know everything, to understand everything. Imosen was now House of Randell’s master of the hunt. If Barol had sensed something amiss from this matter, Victor could no longer let the old spy out on missions, for the sake of Imosen and his daughter’s safety.

“I’ll read it.” Victor nodded, then asked pensively, “There are many spies from other powers in Randell Fief. How many have you identified?”

The old spy’s somewhat turbid eyes lit up, and he said spiritedly, “I have already locked onto seventeen people. I believe that by keeping a close watch on them, I can also dig out the spies who snuck into the family while I was away.”

Barol’s greatest passion was the business of being a spy, including infiltration and counter-infiltration. As for his skill level, Victor was pessimistic, believing him to be a far cry from the spies trained by great lords. But Barol insisted that his espionage craft was passed down from the Randt Imperial Family, as his former master had been a vassal Earl to the Neo Wester family.

Victor didn’t care if Barol could outwit the spies from other powers. This in itself was a minor issue, like ants getting into the kitchen; even if you squashed them all, more would come.

“I don’t care which power the spies come from. As long as they abide by the rules of Randell Fief, they are my subjects… Their descendants might become outstanding craftsmen or excellent soldiers.” Victor smiled and instructed, “Keep a close watch on them, try to find out which families they swear fealty to, but don’t move against them rashly… I believe they will be of use later.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

After some more small talk, Victor dismissed Barol to his duties and had Reno fetch the intelligence scroll written by the Alchemical militia, Badu.

After reading the interrogation record about the Santon family’s master of the hunt, Victor put down the scroll, a playful smile gracing the corner of his mouth… Imosen really hadn’t told the truth!

“Reno, prepare the Swiftbird mounts. I’m going to the menagerie.”

The menagerie was a place where the lord raised and domesticated fierce beasts, under the jurisdiction of the family’s master of the hunt. House of Randell had two menageries. One was dedicated to raising beasts like bears, wolves, tigers, and leopards, while the other was Imosen the Wizard’s research facility for breeding Swiftbirds, warhounds, green-eyed eagles, forest falcons, Camelopes, and warhorses. Thus, its location was very secluded, built deep within the Larkspur Mountains on the west side of the domain, seventy-seven kilometers from Laketon, and with no connecting road.

Victor, taking Reno and Shak, two Alchemical militia, rode Swiftbirds, arriving at Imosen’s hidden menagerie in just over two hours.

An Alchemical Warhound with blue-black fur was the first to emerge from the shadows, wagging its head and tail to welcome its master. The three Swiftbird mounts, however, bristled, their throats emitting guttural warning sounds as they adopted a combat stance, refusing to take another step forward.

After calming the Swiftbirds and ordering the Warhound to resume its patrol, Victor and his two companions passed through a lush, wooded valley and heard the barking of sentinel hounds. The Alchemical militia guards at the menagerie recognized the arrivals, silenced the blustering sentinel hounds, and bowed to Victor. “Good day, my lord.”

Victor dismounted his Swiftbird, handed the reins to a guard, and asked, “What is Imosen doing?”

“The master of the hunt is conducting an experiment in the Swiftbird breeding area. Do you want me to call him over?”

“Don’t disturb him. I’ll go over myself,” Victor said with considerable interest. He was very curious to see how a Wizard conducted an experiment.

The hidden menagerie had no defensive fences, and the buildings were all very simple. Forty Alchemical humans served as Imosen’s assistants and bodyguards. Outside the menagerie, eight Alchemical Warhounds patrolled continuously. If an emergency occurred, the Alchemical militia would cover Imosen’s rapid retreat to the mountain stronghold from any direction.

Imosen was the most precious treasure here.

The Alchemical militia led Victor into an open-air shed. Imosen was murmuring to a female Swiftbird, “Darling, push harder, you must lay the egg whole… Remember, a whole egg, not just the shell.”

The Swiftbird lying in the straw nest was clearly another kind of creature. The feathers on its back and wings had completely fallen off, revealing keratinized black skin; a cluster of white bone spurs grew from the middle of its wings, showing a tendency to evolve into claws; its beautiful tail feathers had been replaced by a hairless tail that resembled a snake’s, but with a hook-like barb at the end; its axe-like giant beak was filled with tiny teeth, and its eyes, suffused with blood-red, looked savage and bloodthirsty.

“A Biological Aberration?”

Victor’s sudden voice startled the fully focused Imosen. His expression immediately changed drastically as he cried out, “Kill it! Quick!”

The Alchemical militia beside him moved with a swift flash of a knife. The refined iron scimitar drew a sharp arc of light, and the Aberrant Swiftbird’s head instantly fell, crimson blood gushing out. With a thought from Victor, the air swirled rapidly, forming a barrier. The splashing blood flew to the side like a crimson rainbow. Imosen, too rushed to be surprised, said repeatedly, “Quick, quick, quick, get the eggs out.”

The Alchemical militia flipped over the Aberrant Swiftbird’s corpse, used the sharp refined iron scimitar to slice open its belly, and reached a hand wearing a long deerskin glove into the still-twitching abdominal cavity, retrieving two huge eggs.

The surface of the Aberrant Swiftbird’s eggs was coated with mucus, which corroded colorful patterns onto the shells. Without waiting for Imosen’s instruction, the Alchemical militia conscientiously and quickly used a dagger to scrape off the mucus from the eggshells, then wiped them clean with a damp towel until the shells no longer emitted a pungent white mist.

Clearly, this was not the first time he had done this.

Imosen extended a finger and gently poked an eggshell, saying with lingering fear, “Thankfully, the shells haven’t softened yet. It shouldn’t be a big problem… Kukes, take these two eggs to incubator number four. Be careful, don’t break them!”

The Alchemical militia took the Aberrant Swiftbird’s eggs, placed them in a container, and turned to leave the shed, cradling them.

At that moment, Reno, at Victor’s side, demanded, “Master of the hunt, why do you not bow to the Master?”

Imosen’s excited expression froze on his face. He turned to see Victor’s dark gold, mismatched eyes, and his excitement turned to terror. His knees buckled, and he was about to perform a one-knee kneel.

“No need for formalities during work.”

Victor reached out a hand to support his arm and asked with a grin, “Imosen, what… are you doing?”

The flattered Imosen’s face lit up again. He pulled off the towel covering his mouth and nose, opened his mouth to explain his experiment but didn’t know where to start, finally squeezing out a single phrase.

“…Laying eggs.”

If I hadn’t seen it, I would have thought you were a pig butcher… Victor complained internally as he looked the Wizard up and down.

He wore a fine linen shirt with an oilcloth apron over it, a hood on his head, and had just had a towel over his face. If he had been holding a pig-butchering knife, he would have been indistinguishable from the butchers in Randell Fief.

Considering Imosen was engaged in forbidden research and couldn’t confide in outsiders, and that the Alchemical humans around him were more wooden than the last, it was normal for him to have a bellyful of words he wanted to say but be temporarily unable to sort them out. Victor thought for a moment and asked, “What is the purpose of laying eggs?”

Imosen’s eyes lit up, and he began to speak torrentially: “My lord, I’m trying to increase the muscle and bone strength of the Swiftbirds… In the past, I used selective breeding, feeding, and training methods to cultivate stronger and fiercer Swiftbirds. But this couldn’t change their bone and muscle structure, especially their hollow bones, which severely limited their carrying capacity and resistance to blows. I thought, Swiftbirds don’t really need to fly, so their lightweight hollow bones have no real practical meaning. It would be better to let them grow solid bones. So, I chose fifteen female birds, subjected them to mild Aberration to change their body structure, and then used their eggs to try and hatch Swiftbirds with solid bones.”

Victor asked curiously, “Aren’t Biological Aberrations supposed to be unable to reproduce?”

“That’s right!” Imosen explained enthusiastically. “Biological Aberrations absorb the fetus as part of their body. I’ve experimented with pregnant dire wolves and sentinel hounds, all without success. But Swiftbird fledglings are incubated outside the body, and their exterior is protected by an eggshell.”

“Although the Aberrant Swiftbird’s body also secretes mucus that dissolves the eggshell, and the first six Aberrant Swiftbirds all failed, I can control the Aberrant Swiftbirds and command them to lay their eggs. During this process, the Aberrant Swiftbird can suppress the instinct to absorb the egg and stop producing large amounts of mucus…”

Imosen paused, shaking his head with regret. “Unfortunately, the body structure of the Aberrant Swiftbird has changed, making it impossible for them to lay eggs… We can only kill the female bird and retrieve the eggs manually. And even when an Aberrant female bird is dead, its flesh and blood are still alive and will still corrode the eggs. Due to our inexperience, many eggshells were dissolved, and we only obtained five eggs that were not completely intact.”

“I’m not sure if these eggs can hatch new fledglings… I think naturally laid eggs have a higher chance of successful hatching.”

“The Aberration level of the Swiftbird just now was the lightest; there was hope it could lay its own egg. When I was controlling it… something went wrong, so we could only retrieve the eggs manually…” Imosen said in frustration. He could control the Biological Aberrations, but he couldn’t precisely control the Aberration process. Who knew when he would get another Aberrant Swiftbird that retained its oviduct.

Victor felt no guilt whatsoever for interrupting Imosen’s important experiment. A different question was swirling in his mind. After a moment of thought, he said, “The Aberrant Swiftbird changed the strength of its bones. Will the eggs it had before the Aberration undergo a corresponding change?”

Imosen’s heart skipped a beat. He wrung his hands and said with an apologetic smile, “My lord, I’m not certain… This is an attempt. If by any chance it succeeds, you can obtain even stronger Swiftbird war-fowl.”

“I’m not blaming you for sacrificing fifteen adult female birds… Being willing to spend effort researching Swiftbird breeding techniques is a good thing worthy of encouragement.” Victor smiled slightly and asked, “Why didn’t you combine your Wizardry talents to breed Swiftbirds before?”

Imosen smiled awkwardly and explained, “My lord, I didn’t dare to before. Now my courage has grown, and I wish to win your favor.”

“Because I am now a Highness of the kingdom, and have the ability to protect you?”

Imosen’s expression wavered. After a moment, he said frankly, “Yes. I used to be afraid of being captured and Purified by the Church. I didn’t even dare to go to the Church in Laketon for worship. But I was also worried about exposing myself, so I had to steel myself and attend morning and evening prayers at the Church. In the end, nothing happened, and Father Miller even praised my piety… Now I’m afraid that Your Highness will find me useless, so I’ve gathered my courage to experiment with my Wizardry.”

After hearing the Wizard’s statement, Victor shook his head and said, “These are all superficialities, not the real reason. Before, you and Bel lived in the wild marsh, barely clothed and fed, busy all day just to survive. Now, you live in comfort and ease, with no need to worry about survival. It’s inevitable that you’d want to research your extraordinary abilities.”

“Simply put, you’re curious because you’re idle.” Victor’s eyes burned as he stared at Imosen, asking with great interest, “So, what is the principle behind your Aberration of animals and insects?”

Imosen’s heart tightened. Feeling a pressure that could not be refused, he said respectfully, “My lord, through my research and experiments during this time, I’ve discovered that I always change the animal’s soul state first, and only then do they undergo Aberration and completely submit to my will.”

“How do you change the animals’ souls? What do you change them into?” Victor pressed, his voice deep.

Imosen thought carefully, then explained hesitantly, “I can’t say exactly how I change it… This is a Wizardry talent, close to an instinct. If I had to describe it, it would be ‘contamination’… Yes, contamination!” He nodded forcefully, raising his voice. “In my eyes, the souls of almost all animals are red, like a burning hot flame. But for different animals, the brightness and color of the soul-flame are different. Some are dim, some are bright, some are orange-red, some are deep red… For any creature I cause an Aberration in, their soul-flame becomes the same brightness, the same color… I suspect that is the proper brightness and color of my own soul-flame.”

“…However.” Imosen stopped speaking, discreetly glancing at the Alchemical militia beside Victor.

Victor was secretly amused. Imosen had always mistakenly believed that a powerful Wizard was hidden by his side, that the Alchemical Warhounds and Alchemical humans were that Wizard’s masterpieces, and because of this, he was terrified, afraid of being controlled by that mysterious Wizard himself.

“All of you, fall back. Move further away.” Victor waved away the Alchemical militia beside him and said coolly, “You may speak.”

Imosen lowered his voice, saying with a bit of nervousness, “Your Highness, I also discovered that your dire wolves are completely different from ordinary creatures. Their soul-flames are dark gold. I was even injured from peeking at their soul-flames… I must remind you, the reason I can control my Aberrations is because of soul contamination. Your dire wolves are probably similar to my Aberrations… They are all controlled by someone.”

Nonsense, what’s the use of creating alchemical creatures that can’t be controlled? However, Imosen’s soul contamination for controlling an Aberration and my Soul Fire splitting for controlling the Alchemy Tower are based on the same principle… This also corroborates some of my conjectures about the Ancestral God splitting its soul to create bloodline descendants, for instance, the Hydra Lizard’s hold over the Lizardmen… The principle of soul contamination in Aberration Wizardry seems to indicate that when the soul’s form changes, the Bloodline Laws are all activated, presenting as a chaotic, disordered mutation, evolving into another form of life… Does this mean that the difference between non-human races like the Barbarians and humans lies in the difference in soul structure? Tofwen the Wizard discovered the primitiveness and diversity of the human bloodline. Is the reason humans can still maintain the human life form because of the stability of their souls? If the human soul’s form changes, will humans turn into other forms of creatures? For example, are elves, the Barbarians, or the barbarians all transformations of humans?

What is it that changed the human soul structure, yet didn’t cause a chaotic, disordered mutation in the human bloodline?

Victor reined in his thoughts, his gaze focusing on Imosen’s face. He said with a friendly smile:

“Kukes, Reno, Shak, they are all Mystic Warriors carefully cultivated by the family. You don’t need to worry about their loyalty, and you certainly don’t need to worry about your own safety… As long as you are loyal to me, I will grant you wealth, status, power, and even a longer life and youth. Most importantly, you will earn my trust.”

Imosen quickly knelt on the ground, saying loudly, “Your esteemed Highness Randell, I am grateful for your protection and for taking me in. I swear fealty to you!”

A graceful smile played on Victor’s lips as he said coolly, “Should I believe you? …Maklin of the Santon family.”

Hearing the name Maklin, Imosen’s knees instantly went weak, unable to support his body, and he collapsed, prostrate on the ground.

Chapter 556: Riddled with Flaws

The corpse of the Aberrant Swiftbird was still twitching and squirming in the straw shed. Its creator, pale-faced, was prostrated on the ground, trembling uncontrollably.

The chattering of Imosen’s teeth made his pleas of “My lord, have mercy” fragmented and almost incomprehensible. Victor couldn’t help but shake his head inwardly. A Wizard who possessed great power but lacked willpower was easily manipulated, making any talk of loyalty meaningless.

Imosen could create an Aberration of and control fifteen Swiftbirds at once, which meant the strength of his Soul Fire far exceeded that of a mortal, reaching at least the peak of Silver level. Yet before Victor, he lacked even the courage to beg for mercy or offer an excuse. It was clear his will was weaker than that of an Elite Soldier trained by the family.

Victor’s Legendary-level Spirit was primarily used to control his own Bloodline talents. In terms of spiritual pressure, he couldn’t even compare to a high-level Silver Knight. The spiritual power of an Extraordinary Knight could target an Elite Soldier, causing him to feel instantaneous fear, stiffness, or hesitation, but it could not make him betray his liege lord and drop to his knees in surrender. Even Sylvia could only use a Mental Spike to kill Marquess Bastern; she could not charm him into changing his mind. It was a different story with Imosen. Victor suspected Sophia could probably make him spill all his secrets with a single glance. He who could kneel at Victor’s feet could just as easily surrender to any Gold Knight Your Highness.

Imosen had received the education of a vassal since childhood. Logically, his will shouldn’t have been so fragile.

The problem might lie in his personal experiences… He fled his family with Beldina, effectively betraying his former liege lord and his faith in the Lord of Radiance. In doing so, he also negated the quality of loyalty he had pursued for more than a decade, creating an irreparable flaw in his Will Side. He craves a liege lord’s recognition once more, yet he constantly denies his own self-worth. The guilt of betraying his family suffocates him, and now that I’ve exposed his lies, the first thing he thinks of is the punishment a betrayer deserves… This kind of psychological damage can’t be fixed by increasing his power or status. If I were to teach him the Mind Bloodline secret art, it would only be counterproductive, helping him down a path of independence… It seems I’ll have to approach this through his family life. I’ll arrange a strong-willed wife for him, and they can have a bunch of children… Those two household maids are useless for this. Imosen’s wife must be resolute and loyal to the family… I’ll have to groom a senior female apprentice knight from among the noble attendants at Silver Moon Manor to be his wife.

Victor automatically dismissed the idea of using Beldina to tether Imosen. For one, he was reluctant to return the little chubster to him. Secondly, Beldina’s luck aura involved the Force of Destiny, and old Miller was particularly fond of her. Victor had a faint feeling that Beldina’s appearance was no coincidence. Whether it was for good or ill, keeping such a variable under his control was the best choice.

“Don’t just lie there on the ground. Let’s talk at your residence,” Victor stated coolly before turning and walking out of the straw shed.

Imosen, still unaware that Victor was planning to find him a formidable female knight for a wife, kept his head down and trailed fearfully behind him.

Entering the small wooden building in the menagerie, Victor took the main seat in the living room. He glanced at the despondent Wizard and said flatly:

“I’ll give you one more chance to explain yourself.”

Imosen looked up in surprise, then quickly resumed his posture of standing at attention with his head bowed, awaiting judgment. He took two deep breaths and tentatively used a more intimate and humble form of address, “Esteemed master…” Seeing Victor’s impassive expression out of the corner of his eye, he mustered his courage and continued:

“Esteemed master, most of what I told you before was true… My real name is Maklin, the second son of Baron Santon’s master of the hunt. My wife was the Baron’s steward’s daughter, and her name was Tina… That year, I was with little Bel accompanying Tina on a visit to her family. Bel was sleeping in her room, and when I went in alone to check on her, I awakened the Wisdom Guidance Wizardry. At that moment, my hand was on Bel’s face, and the runes of Wizardry appeared. It just so happened that a maid saw it. She mistook Bel for a Wizard and started screaming, which brought the Baron’s steward’s eldest son—that is, Tina’s brother, Bel’s Uncle (maternal)… He snapped the maid’s neck on the spot.”

“Actually, no maid saw the Wizardry runes. The one who misunderstood was Tina… Bel’s biological mother.” As he said this, a weight seemed to lift from Imosen’s heart, and his tone became lighter. “Tina didn’t scream. She quietly asked me what we should do. How would I know what to do? I was scared stiff at the time, unable to say a single word… So Tina went to find her brother, and then the Baron’s steward found out. That same night, my father also came secretly to the steward’s manor. They all decided to… dispose of Bel. I mean, to abandon her in the wilderness and let her fend for herself. In truth, I was planning to control Aberrant warhounds to rescue her in secret.”

The Wizard suddenly became agitated, his voice rising. “But Tina insisted on poisoning Bel first, and then burying her! Esteemed master, can you imagine? Bel’s own mother wanted to poison her own child! That was our first child! I was only nineteen, and Tina had just turned eighteen. She actually wanted to kill Bel!”

There are many kinds of cold-blooded people. Since the decision was made to dispose of Bel, using a painless poison was far more merciful than abandoning her in the wilderness to be devoured by insects and torn apart by beasts. In fact, Tina’s chosen method was riskier than Imosen’s proposal. Bel getting lost in the wilderness and ending up in the belly of a beast would be considered a common accident, nearly impossible to trace. A buried body, however, could be discovered. It seemed more like a funeral insisted upon by a mother.

Imosen must have understood Tina’s intentions; otherwise, he wouldn’t have included his wife’s name in Bel’s. He simply couldn’t face the cruel reality, so he used the excuse of his wife’s cold-bloodedness to lessen his own guilt.

Victor wouldn’t pick at Imosen’s scars; that would completely crush the Wizard.

“The facts,” Victor said.

“We took Bel into the wilderness. Tina was holding her, and her brother started digging a pit. I…” Imosen fell silent for a long time. His face darkened, and his voice became as cold as the winter wind. “Tina kissed Bel over and over, but her brother grew impatient. He took out some poisoned honey and tried to feed it to Bel… Heh, how could I allow them to murder my daughter? I ordered a pack of hounds to attack Tina’s brother, and then I killed him… Only then did Tina realize that I was the Wizard. I wanted her to come with us. She pretended to agree, but when I wasn’t looking, she grabbed Bel and tried to run, screaming for help and cursing me as a spawn of Devils… Esteemed master, I am not a Devil’s sp—”

“Enough nonsense!”

Imosen lowered his head resentfully and continued, “I forced Tina to drink the poison and dug a separate grave for her. Then I fled with Bel, running until I was rescued by you, Esteemed master.”

A rational person would not believe one side of a story so easily. Imosen’s account was purely from his own perspective, a one-sided testimony meant to conceal another truth. Victor was in no hurry to point out the flaws in his story. He asked calmly, “Why did you lie to me and claim Bel’s mother was killed by her own brother while trying to protect her?”

With a thud, Imosen was on his knees again, pleading in a tone of self-reproach and terror, “Esteemed master, I’ve always told Bel that her mama loved her very much, so I made up that story… The first time you summoned me, Bel was right beside me. I… I really couldn’t bring myself to tell her, in front of her, that her own mother wanted to kill her.”

Victor nodded and sighed with a touch of emotion. “Imosen, you are indeed a good father…”

Hearing His Highness Randell call him by his alias, Imosen, and not his real name, Maklin, the Wizard breathed a sigh of relief. He composed himself and said humbly, “Master, I beg you to forgive my transgression of dishonesty.”

A vassal who commits a transgression of dishonesty should request punishment from his liege lord. Imosen, however, begged for forgiveness, which indicated he still had a guilty conscience and was hiding something from Victor.

Imosen’s guilt and lack of confidence actually satisfied Victor. If a person were to feign a request for punishment while trying to conceal a greater secret, he would be no good sort—either malicious or merely thinking himself clever enough to fool his liege lord and muddle through.

Of course, even if Imosen were like that, Victor wouldn’t cast him aside. His Highness Randell was confident in his ability to handle such self-important individuals, as long as they were as valuable as Imosen.

Victor flawlessly perceived every subtle change in Imosen. The holes in his words and his delicate psychological state were all laid bare by Deduction.

“Imosen, the two household maids from Silver Moon Manor have been married to you for three years now, yet you still haven’t had any children… Is it because you find them unattractive, or is the problem with you?” Victor asked in a bantering tone. “If you don’t like them, don’t hold them back. Let them marry someone else.”

The Wizard instantly grew anxious, stammering out a defense, “My lord, we get along very well… It’s just, it’s just…”

“…It’s just,” Victor finished for him, leaning forward slightly, his eyes turning grim, “that you’re worried any child they give you will be a Wizard, just like Beldina!”

Imosen froze on the floor as if struck by lightning.

Victor continued, “You repeatedly emphasized that Bel was mistaken for having awakened a talent for Wizardry, and that’s why the steward and the master of the hunt decided to quietly dispose of her. You were trying to tell me that Bel is not a Wizard… If that’s the case, then when Bel’s uncle and mother wanted to kill her, all you had to do was step forward, reveal your identity as the Wizard to clear up the misunderstanding, and flee by yourself. That would have solved everything. Tina would have taken good care of Bel… So why did you kill Tina and her brother, and then flee with Bel?”

“You had to kill your wife and brother-in-law… because Bel wasn’t misunderstood. She is, in fact, a little Wizard.”

Chapter 557: A Fateful Gathering

“Also, you claim you fabricated a story telling Beldina that her mother loved her very much… How could you possibly kill her uncle and mother in front of Bel?”

Victor clasped his hands together on his desk, the corners of his mouth curling into a cold, sarcastic smile. “There’s only one possibility: Bel didn’t witness what happened. She was unconscious the entire time.”

“My guess is that this is what happened… On that day, the one whose Wizard identity was exposed wasn’t you, but little Bel. When she manifested the Wizardry runes, she was asleep from the moment she was discovered to the moment Baron Santon’s steward came to discuss countermeasures with your father. Bel is so adorable; if she had been able to cry and make a fuss, her maternal grandfather and paternal grandfather might not have had the heart to dispose of her… Do you know why I say ‘dispose of’ rather than ‘kill’? Little Bel remained unconscious, unable to eat or drink on her own, making her very difficult to keep alive. If they kept her, news of the Baron’s steward’s granddaughter’s illness would soon reach the ears of the resident priest… If Bel had a strange illness and they didn’t seek treatment from a priest, wouldn’t people become suspicious? But if they did seek treatment, wouldn’t that be walking straight into a trap? Since Bel couldn’t survive and would only drag down two families and Baron Santon, the only option was to dispose of her quietly… You and Tina both accepted the steward’s suggestion, didn’t you?”

Victor leaned back in his chair, observing the changes in Imosen’s expression as he spoke. “When it came time to act, you both had regrets. Tina was reluctant to let go, and her brother lost his patience. He used force against her to take Bel away. You couldn’t help but fight him, but you were no match for him and were beaten to the ground. As you watched your brother-in-law about to force-feed Bel a potion, you summoned your pack of hounds and killed the steward’s son.”

“You used Wizardry in front of your wife to kill her own brother. At that moment, Tina was completely convinced that you were an incarnation of a Devil, and that Bel was part of a devilish conspiracy. She tried to eliminate both you and Bel, or perhaps she intended to report to the priest that you were both Devils… Left with no choice, you then killed Bel’s mother with your own hands.”

“Imosen, you concealed from me the fact that Bel is a Wizard.”

Victor’s voice was laced with deep regret, but to Imosen’s ears, it made the hairs on his body stand on end. He cried out in a panic, “Your Highness, it’s not like that, it’s not! Bel isn’t a Wizard, she really isn’t… I’m begging you, please spare Bel…”

“Enough!” Victor shot a disgusted look at the wailing Imosen and said flatly, “Don’t waste my time with nonsense. You can either choose to continue explaining, or you can continue to grovel on the floor like a slug.”

“My lord, I’ll explain, I can explain…” Imosen scrambled up from the floor, wiped his face messily with his sleeve, and said in a rushed voice, “My lord, your speculation is mostly correct, but at the time, I truly had just awakened the Wisdom Guidance talent and manifested Wizardry runes. I wasn’t sure if I was the one who caused Bel’s coma, nor was I sure if my Wisdom Guidance Wizardry was triggered by her… I… I really didn’t know back then if Bel was a Wizard or not…”

A thought struck Victor, and he interrupted him, asking, “Why couldn’t you be sure at the time?”

Imosen’s face took on a reminiscent look. After a moment, he said, “Because I heard broken whispers. That was the first time I heard the Devil’s voice, and the only time. My mind went completely blank, I lost all ability to think, muddled and unaware of anything. When Tina woke me up, I saw my hand was still resting on Bel’s forehead, with Wizardry runes swirling above her head… My lord, I told you I can’t remember what Wizardry runes look like, and that was the first time I had ever manifested them. I didn’t know what was happening. I suspected then that Bel was a Wizard too… But later, I knew. She is not a Wizard.”

Victor pondered this for a moment and asked, “And your reason?”

“My lord, Bel and I depended on each other in the Great Marsh, living together for twelve years, and I never once saw her use any kind of Wizardry!” Imosen clasped his hands to his chest, pleading desperately, “My lord, if Bel were truly a Wizard, I would never dare to hide it from you. That would be a death sentence for her… It’s precisely because she’s not a Wizard that I want her to live a normal life. Besides, besides, Esteemed master Miller is especially fond of Bel, and His Holiness the sacred Pope even personally used divine arts to heal her. How could she possibly be a Wizard? Lord Busuo at the mountain stronghold told me that no one can awaken Wizardry after the age of fifteen… Bel is already twenty-one. She won’t become a Wizard!”

Victor’s expression softened slightly. “Then why were you unwilling to have more children?”

With a pained expression, Imosen explained, “I was afraid my future children would be like Bel, unable to grow up properly, unable to live long… It was my fault Bel contracted that strange illness. My sudden awakening of Wizardry caused her to fall into a coma, and after she woke up, her growth was incredibly slow… Thankfully, Your Highness asked His Holiness the sacred Pope to heal Bel, and she’s finally doing a bit better now. But you can’t possibly take care of every child with a strange illness. That’s why I’ve been secretly taking herbal concoctions.”

His long index finger tapped gently on the desk. Victor considered this, then asked, “You hid the truth from me mainly to protect Bel?”

Imosen was silent for a long time. When he looked up, his face was streaked with tears. Wiping them away, he choked out, “I didn’t want to kill Tina… Tina picked up a shovel to smash Bel’s head in. I was injured, lying on the ground, powerless to stop her. I didn’t have time to command the aberrant warhound to just pull at her clothes… the hound bit her neck… I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Mm,” Victor nodded. He stood up from behind the desk, walked over, and patted the Wizard’s shoulder before heading for the door.

Imosen gritted his teeth and followed Victor out of the wooden house. Before Victor mounted his Swiftbird, Imosen asked in a trembling voice, “My lord, my family… what happened to them?”

Victor swung himself onto the Swiftbird and looked down at him, saying flatly, “You killed the son and daughter of Baron Santon’s steward and betrayed the Santon family. What do you think happened to your family? Your family was censured by Baron Santon. They lost the position of master of the hunt, had to compensate the steward with eight hundred mu of allotted land, and the position of master of the hunt was given to the steward’s paternal cousin’s son… However, it seems Baron Santon will have to appoint a new master of the hunt again.”

Imosen’s expression darkened. “I brought this upon them.”

“Hmph. Kukes, give Imosen three lashes. From now on, whenever you see him, give him three lashes, every month for five consecutive months. Don’t cripple or kill him,” Victor said, shaking the reins and riding off with Reno and Shak.

“Thank you, Master! Thank you, Master!” Overjoyed, Imosen knelt on the ground and thanked Victor’s retreating figure repeatedly, only to be hauled away by the Alchemical militia like a helpless chick to have his sentence carried out.

The tragedy of Imosen’s family was lamentable, but Victor felt nothing. It wasn’t that he was cold-blooded and ruthless, but that a difference in mentality resulted in a different perspective. An extraordinary being can control their own emotions, and it is difficult for a lord to adopt the viewpoint of an ordinary person.

The root of this tragedy wasn’t a matter of right or wrong, but of weakness. The Church suppresses Wizards to cut off the Devils’ prying into the mortal kingdoms and to maintain the existing ruling order. Baron Santon, his steward, and the master of the hunt were all beneficiaries of the Radiant Code; there was nothing wrong with them upholding the tenets established by the Church and eliminating the influence of Wizards. If the Santon family had been a great and powerful lordship, capable of controlling and keeping Wizards, the outcome would have been different.

Since they couldn’t protect Bel, Tina’s brother was not wrong to decide to dispose of his niece for the sake of his family. His mistake was in failing to grasp the situation, acting rashly, and provoking his Wizard brother-in-law when he was no match for him. He deserved to be killed in return.

When Tina saw her husband suddenly use Wizardry to kill her brother, she believed Imosen was possessed by a Devil and that Beldina was a Devil’s child. In her mind, she was eliminating a relative for the greater good, wanting to eradicate the threat. This was also not wrong. Her mistake was her ignorance, her lack of self-awareness, and the same reckless impulsiveness as her brother. Had she feigned compliance, first figuring out Imosen’s true situation, she would not have died a violent death on the spot, regardless of whether she chose to flee with her husband or avenge her brother.

As for Imosen, forced to eliminate the threat from his wife and brother-in-law to protect his daughter and himself, he was even less in the wrong. His mistake was his cowardice and timidity, his indecisiveness, his unwillingness to face reality and defy authority. This led to him killing his beloved wife and kin with his own hands, leaving him with a lifetime of regret and mired in inescapable pain and remorse.

If he had promptly used his aberrant hounds to control the situation, dealt with the relatives who wanted to dispose of Bel first, and then confessed his identity to them, stating his intent to flee with his wife and child, would they have dared to refuse? Would they have dared to report him to the Church? They would only have tried to cover up the truth, claiming to the outside world that the master of the hunt and his wife and child had met with a tragic accident involving wild beasts.

Therefore, true strength doesn’t depend on power, intelligence, wealth, or influence, but originates from one’s character, will, and wisdom.

Fortunately, a person’s character and will can grow in adversity, and wisdom deepens with age. The Imosen of today was worlds apart from the callow youth Maklin was over a decade ago.

Victor only felt a brief moment of emotion regarding Imosen’s plight. He took note of that one coincidental instance of hearing whispers.

It was because of those Devil’s whispers that Imosen’s Wizard identity was exposed, forcing him to flee Baron Santon’s domain with Beldina. But that specific point in time coincided with the migration of the Forest Centaurs and the Gambis Kingdom’s expansion into the Centaur Hills. If it hadn’t been during that period, it would have been impossible for Imosen and Bel to traverse the Forest Centaurs’ territory and secretly settle in the Great Marsh… Eight years later, I activated the Alchemy Tower, and Master Edwin explored the Great Marsh, encountering Imosen’s aberrant rats; then I sent the Alchemical Militiaman Jack into the Great Marsh to collect Purification Crystals, and Jack discovered the footprints of Beldina and Itugos. Immediately after, the Ant-man tide pushed east, forcing Imosen to relocate near the half-dragon tribe, a location close to the western side of the mountain stronghold. Then Father Miller arrived in Randell Fief, I dispatched the Alchemical militia to scout the terrain of the Great Marsh, and we captured Imosen and his daughter, which caused Itugos to lose control and become a true Biological Aberration… Sylvia slayed the two-headed Dragon-Lizard, allowing the Centaur Hills to foster an aberrant war beast Legion, while Imosen became my subordinate, and Beldina grew very close to old Miller.

In the unseen world, a force of destiny has connected all of us… I am the herald of the Alchemical Empire’s revival, so the existence that sent me to the Centaur Hills must be from the Alchemical Empire’s faction. The Lord of Radiance is suspected to be the crowning achievement of the Alchemical Empire, so Father Miller should be on the same side as me. Miller is close to Beldina and helps cover up her and Imosen’s Wizard identities, so could the mysterious existence pushing the fate of Imosen and his daughter be the same entity as the extraordinary being behind me?

Assuming that I, Sylvia, Beldina, and Miller all belong to the same faction, or can at least aid one another, then our meeting cannot be a coincidence. The mysterious existence has gathered the four great powers—the master of the Alchemy Tower, a Spirit Knight, a God-favored of the Lord of Radiance, and a Wizard—together. It must be to deal with a particularly powerful opponent.

The key is time! And the form of the enemy, and how the disaster will erupt!

Victor’s expression was grim, his gaze profound as he looked toward the cathedral in Laketon. It’s time for a talk with old Miller, he thought.

Chapter 558: Their Respective Domains

The next morning, in Laketon.

Thousands of craftsmen toiled under the scorching sun, their sweat pouring down like rain on the cathedral construction site. Dayne, dressed in the white fine linen robes of a High-ranked Priest, stood on a temporary high platform. He looked at the gradually emerging majestic form of the Randell Cathedral and the swarming believers and craftsmen, a satisfied and expectant smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Three years ago, when he had accompanied His Highness Randell on a visit to the Kingdom of Naville, the Randell Cathedral had just begun construction of its above-ground structures. By the time they returned, the cathedral had already taken shape. The lower framework of limestone had risen from the ground, and the craftsmen were beginning to lay green bricks for the middle and upper sections. At this rate, the main body of the Randell Cathedral would be completed in another two years, with only the work of carving and beautification remaining.

For a clergyman who served the Lord of Radiance, watching the magnificent and grand Randell Cathedral become a reality day by day brought an immense sense of accomplishment and satisfaction. Not only did Father Miller enjoy strolling around the construction site a few times each day, but Sister Karina from the monastery and Kai, the preaching priest from the school for general education, also found excuses to drop by the cathedral site whenever they had a moment to spare. Dayne would rather his brothers and sisters didn’t offer unsolicited advice; he considered inspecting the site and supervising the cathedral’s construction progress as part of his daily routine.

In truth, this was a power reserved for the resident priest, and all clergy in the Randell Fief, including Dayne, were supposed to obey Miller’s orders. But in reality, the clergy all looked to Dayne for leadership. His ability to control church affairs in the Randell Fief was due not only to his own competence, background, and status as a High-ranked Priest, but also to his excellent relationship with His Highness Randell, which was another important factor.

Of course, Father Miller barely concerned himself with the church affairs of the Randell Fief, which saved Dayne a great deal of trouble.

The lower-ranking clergy of the Randell Fief held a certain disdain for Miller, believing he lacked the competence to manage the religious affairs of nearly two hundred thousand believers. They thought he had attained his current position only through the grace of the Supreme Lord, having had the good fortune to meet His Highness Randell early on.

Dayne did not think so. The more authority he gained in the divine arts, the more he revered Father Miller. He would occasionally fantasize about one day reaching Father Miller’s level.

Hadn’t His Highness Randell also begun to retreat behind the scenes? For top-tier extraordinary individuals, power was merely a tool in their hands—something they could pick up but also put down, never allowing it to bind their free will. In this respect, the clergy, who relied on the power of faith from mortals, were far inferior to High-ranked Knights. Within the entire Church, perhaps only Miller and Tournans could remain unburdened by power and influence.

Clement had told Dayne that top-tier God-favored like Miller were akin to the eyes and ears of the Supreme Lord, responsible for monitoring and repairing the potential influence of Devils on human kingdoms. Their power came from the Supreme Lord himself, requiring no authority from the Pool of Holy Power. In a sense, the missionary system that the Church had painstakingly built also served them.

A Sacred Warrior standing beside him suddenly pointed to a slowly approaching carriage and said, “My lord Dayne, look over there.”

It was an ordinary two-wheeled carriage, suitable for traveling within the city, with no markings on its exterior. But Dayne recognized the coachman and the attendant; they were both His Highness Randell’s Personal Guards.

“I’ll go have a look by myself.” A thought stirred in Dayne’s mind. He gave the instruction to the Sacred Warrior and ambled down from the platform alone.

Walking up to the carriage, Dayne nodded to Reno and Shak, then smiled at the person behind the curtain. “Victor, not coming out for a chat?”

Victor’s listless complaint drifted from the carriage: “In this heat, if I wear a hood, people think I’m a fool. If I don’t wear a hood, I get crowded and judged… I’m not getting out, either way. The carriage is too small for two people anyway. My friend, you’ll have to suffer standing outside to talk with me… Haha.”

Dayne shook his head, clucking his tongue in retort, “I don’t mind the heat… I can go wherever I want, I don’t need to wear a hood, and no women will judge me. Even if they did, it wouldn’t matter, since I wouldn’t hear them anyway.”

A Knight’s beauty could sometimes be a nuisance. To the common folk, a handsome Noble was like a celebrity, attracting a crowd wherever he went. An Extraordinary Knight could resonate with the void element to weaken their presence, but Victor lacked this ability. To make matters worse, his hearing was exceptionally sharp, and he could hear the public’s whispers with perfect clarity.

Of course, being looked at wasn’t a big deal, but every time Victor appeared in Laketon, the local traffic would become snarled, and even the functioning of an entire street block would be affected. Lilia had strongly requested that he not wander around Laketon when he had nothing better to do.

He couldn’t even stroll through the city he himself had built. Victor was so frustrated he was at a loss for words.

Dayne roared with laughter outside the carriage, only to hear Victor ask, “Can you go to lively places in Laketon like inns, taverns, and casinos? Oh, you can go, but after you do, everyone inside will slip away one by one.”

The High-ranked Priest’s smug laughter died in his throat, and the expression on his face instantly became a picture. He then shook his head with a wry smile and asked, “Your Highness, what brings you here today?”

“I came to find old man Miller,” Victor replied.

“…Father Miller.” Dayne’s smile vanished. He frowned and said, “He just left. Said he was going out to gather blue-core grass and might be staying in the wilderness for a few days.” After a pause, he asked probingly, “Does Your Highness need Father Miller for something?”

It’s the season for picking blue-core grass, but with a hundred and eighty thousand people in the Randell Fief, why would Father Miller need to go gather herbs in the wilderness himself? He’s deliberately avoiding me… Victor grumbled to himself, then said casually:

“I have a question about my own Bloodline talent that I’d like to ask Father Miller.”

Dayne felt a surge of solemn respect, pride, and joy for Father Miller. Sylvia, despite being a Spirit Knight, could not point the way for her lover, yet Father Miller could help him. Among the secular Highnesses, Victor was clearly closer to the Church. He seized the opportunity to say:

“Victor, have you heard that Goldwater City is preparing to issue an order forbidding the young children of vassal families from attending the schools for general education?”

Victor pulled back the carriage curtain, sized up Dayne, and asked with a smile, “I’d like to know, if Wizards appear among the young children in the general and vocational schools, how does the Church plan to handle it?”

Dayne replied without hesitation, “Purify them, of course.”

Victor’s elegant smile turned playful. He raised an eyebrow and asked, “Purify them where? And when? Here? Or escorted back to the Inquisition headquarters?”

“…Well.” Dayne’s expression stiffened slightly. He explained tactfully, “Generally speaking, adult Wizards are too dangerous and should be purified on the spot. Young Wizards are secretly transported back to the Inquisition for purification… After all, publicly purifying child Wizards doesn’t look very good.”

“So that’s how it is.” Victor shot him a look, then averted his gaze and said, as if to himself, “There are many spies from other families in the Randell Fief. As long as they abide by the rules here, I treat them as my subjects. But if they endanger the House of Randell, I can only make them disappear.”

Dayne sighed and nodded. “The Church does not interfere with a lord’s right to rule.”

A smile appeared on Victor’s face. “I will promote the establishment of schools for general education in the Centaur Hills and strive to have every child of every tenant household enrolled. If the vassals are unwilling to entrust their children to the schools for general education, there’s nothing I can do.”

Dayne made the sign of a holy symbol over his chest and intoned, “May Your Highness be bathed in the glory of the Supreme Lord.”

Having reached a preliminary consensus with Dayne, Victor had the carriage turn around and head out of Laketon.

Three hours later, in a hilly valley on the northeastern side of the Randell Fief, he found Father Miller taking an afternoon nap in a nest of grass.

Victor walked up and called out with a grin, “Hey, old fellow, aren’t you afraid of being carried off by a wild beast sleeping here?”

The old priest opened his eyes, caught sight of him, then turned over and grumbled, “I’m hiding here, and you can still find me?”

“As long as it’s someone I’m familiar with, whose tracks are no more than three days old, and we’re within two hundred kilometers of each other, I can always find them… It’s called Tracking Intuition.” Victor squatted down, picked up the empty wicker basket beside Miller, and mocked, “You came all the way from Laketon to the wilderness and haven’t even picked a single stalk of blue-core grass. You’re worse than a young boy.”

“What do you know? I… I was bringing the church attendants out to learn how to identify medicinal herbs. They’re all gathering blue-core grass nearby.” The old priest scrambled to his feet, snatched the wicker basket back, and yelled, “You coming to find me can’t be for anything good.”

Victor just gave an unconcerned smile and said, “You promised back then that as long as I was promoted to a Highness, you would tell me all your secrets. Remember?”

Miller rolled his eyes and asked, “Did I say that? How come I don’t remember?”

Victor sneered, “Old man, you’re breaking your promise.”

“Nonsense!” Miller flew into a rage, slung the wicker basket over his shoulder, and stormed off toward the mouth of the valley.

Victor was not about to be fooled by his little trick. He followed behind, needling him, “If you don’t stand by your words, you’re just being shameless, breaking your promise. I’m telling you, my memory is excellent; I don’t make mistakes.”

Miller stopped, turned around, and a cunning smile spread across his old face. “My memory isn’t bad either. I remember exactly what I said back then.”

“What I said was, when you learn self-discipline, I will come and talk to you… Am I wrong? What’s self-discipline? You rushing over here to find me, is that self-discipline? And what does ‘I will come and talk to you’ mean? It means I find you, not you find me!”

Dumbfounded, Victor stared at the smug old priest. He was choked up for a good while before his eyes darted around and he said, “Do you know what secrets I want to learn? I haven’t even asked yet. How could you know what I want to talk to you about?”

“Hmph, no matter what you’re prepared to talk to me about, what can be said, I will naturally tell you. What cannot be said, it’s useless for you to ask.”

Victor said with a chuckle, “Since that’s the case, then I’ll just ask… You can say what can be said, and just shake your head for what can’t.”

Father Miller paused for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Little one, do you think I don’t know that you’re skilled at observing details, proficient in verbal traps, and able to fathom people’s minds? His Highness Randell has a reputation for being cunning.”

Victor’s smile faded. His gaze was burning as he said, “I’ll ask ten questions, and you ask me ten questions… Don’t you think that would be interesting?”

“Child, you don’t need to probe me to see if I know your secrets.” Miller waved his hand and shook his head. “My lack of interest in your secrets doesn’t mean I know them, or that the secrets I do know are correct. It is merely because I have self-discipline.”

He started walking, saying as he went, “I have less than a hundred years of life left, but His Highness Randell can live for more than two hundred. Can we possibly see things the same way? I am not omniscient, and neither are you. If I tell you a secret, how will you judge if it’s true or false? If you believe whatever I say, then you just have to listen to me. Why bother asking? If you don’t believe me, why should I bother telling you?”

Different lifespans mean different ways of seeing things… Is he hinting that the time scales of Devils and evil gods are different from ours, that the plots they devise might span thousands of years, or even tens of thousands, and not necessarily have a direct impact on the present? Victor frowned, following behind Miller. After a moment, he said:

“I don’t care about the truth or falsehood of the secrets. I follow a method of hypothesis and verification… You might as well just say something.”

“I care about truth and falsehood!” Miller said with some agitation. “I care about the truth becoming false and the false becoming truth… It’s like, you’re expanding into the Southern Continent, you encounter a group of Barbarians, and you formulate a plan for a surprise attack, only for the Barbarians to learn of it in advance. Would you still carry out the initial plan?”

Victor was startled, understanding Miller’s meaning. The future was unpredictable, a mixture of truth and falsehood, right and wrong. The God-favored and his opponents were engaged in a wrestling match within the domain of destiny, but neither could let the other perceive their plan. Because their lifespans and time scales were different, if the enemy simply stopped acting and waited for Miller to die of old age, what happened next would be hard to say.

Miller’s worried I’ll mess up his plans… but how can I know if his disturbances of destiny won’t harm me?

His mind raced. After long deliberation, he still asked bluntly, “Old fellow, are you going to screw me over?”

“If I screw you over, won’t you fight back?” Father Miller swept a disdainful gaze over him and bellowed indignantly, “You’re afraid I’ll screw you over, yet you still chase after me asking for some-or-other secret? Are you here to tell me a joke?”

“I’m only asking because I trust you!”

Victor shot back righteously, then added with an apologetic smile, “Father Miller, look, I spent hundreds of thousands of Gold Sols to help you build the Randell Cathedral… You could at least reveal a little something to me, right?”

“Heh heh, I may have been ignorant before, but I’m not stupid… I’ve figured out all the benefits you get from building the cathedral.” Miller chuckled as he listed them off: “You build a cathedral, and the Randell Fief diocese gets a rank 5 priest, Dayne. Under him, there will be two Adjudicators, fifteen mid-rank Sacred Warriors, and a hundred initial-rank Sacred Warriors. The Pope also established the South Hill Monastery in the Randell Fief, and Sister Karina is an expert in herb cultivation and medicine. In another ten years, when the medicinal fields tended by Sister Karina mature, the Randell Fief will have its own source of herbs, and the South Hill Monastery will also teach your subjects techniques for herb cultivation, fruit tree grafting, and compounding medicines for healing… And there’s Kai the preacher, who is both a priest and a scholar, an expert in monsterology. Your soldiers will surely encounter all kinds of monsters during the expansion south of the river, won’t they? He’s teaching the subjects of Randell how to deal with monsters in the school for general education… You built the cathedral, and Clement hasn’t treated you poorly either. I also heard that you can use the cathedral to issue adventure quests and hire top-ranked Knights and Rangers…”

“Alright, alright.”

Victor quickly cut Father Miller off. “Just say it. What do you want me to do before you’ll reveal a little secret to me? But I’ll state this up front: I won’t necessarily do it.”

“Heh heh, still probing me.” Miller said teasingly. “If I ask you to do anything now, you’ll immediately let your imagination run wild again.”

Victor shrugged his shoulders. “It’s a talent of mine. I can’t control it myself.”

Miller shook his head with a wry smile and sighed, “Victor, the secrets I know may not be true. Telling you now would only harm you… Why can’t you be like Sylvia and just do what you ought to do?”

A glint shone in Victor’s eyes. He said in a deep voice, “Sylvia firmly believes that there is no existence in this world that she cannot handle… In other words, everything in the world must obey the laws of the Elemental Sea. Be it Devil or evil god, as long as it enters the physical world, it can be destroyed.” He pointed to his own head and continued, “But I’m not Sylvia. Since I have a talent for wisdom, why shouldn’t I make full use of its characteristics and solve problems my own way? My ability to create the Mind Bloodline secret art is proof enough that my method is very effective. Collect, piece together, deduce, verify, apply—that is my method for solving problems.”

“None of us can cover all domains.” Father Miller nodded in appreciation, then hesitated for a moment before saying, “I chose the Randell Fief because it’s relatively close to a Spirit Knight… She represents the will of the world’s origin, like a lighthouse. I hide beneath its bright light, which makes it easier to conceal myself. Now, your own light is also shining brighter and brighter, and the Force of Destiny’s interference with you is diminishing… This is what you should be doing, Your Highness Randell.”

Victor was silent for a moment, then asked, “What is your view on Wizards?”

“There’s nothing wrong with them,” Miller said faintly.

Victor immediately followed up, “Humans have Wizards, Knights, clergy, common people, half-elves like me, and knights with Barbarian bloodlines like Neo Wester… A Wizard from Aerie Fortress told me that the human bloodline might be the most primordial bloodline, possessing great compatibility. Is this the cause of the problem?”

Miller tugged hard at the beard on his chin, the wrinkles on his face bunching together. After a long while, he shook his head. “I’m not sure… I’m not interested in your and that Wizard’s conjecture, nor am I interested in history that cannot be changed. I can only tell you this: humans can be called primordial beings.”

“…Primordial beings.” Victor chewed on the term in his mind, then looked up and smiled. “Just a name is of no help to me… Perhaps somewhere in the future, I will encounter this term and connect it with humanity. So, I thank you.”

Miller slapped his forehead and said with a distressed look, “I should never have discussed this topic with you.”

Victor laughed heartily and said, “My lord Priest, that’s the best flattery I’ve ever heard… I have one more thing I’d like to ask your help with… Uh, don’t leave!”

Chapter 559: The Magic Arrow and Void Walk

Two days later.

Deep within the sun-drenched Larkspur Mountains, a majestic castle stood atop a hill. It was far from the secular world, surrounded by valleys, peaks, and forests. Through the dense trees, a winding, narrow path could be faintly seen snaking through the valley and spiraling up toward the castle—a path trampled by Camelope caravans. In the valleys on either side of the castle were spacious pens where several grooms cared for herds of Camelopes. There was also the clanging of a blacksmith’s forge, giant brick kilns with straight chimneys, tanner’s workshops for curing leather, and, of course, rows of houses, warehouses, and farmland.

Victor stood on the fortress wall, gazing down at the cluster of buildings in the valley, musing that he should give this place the name of a town.

His original intention in building the mountain stronghold was to prepare a secret hideout for himself—a defense against the Ant-men, and also against Sylvia. Back then, he knew nothing about Spirit Knights and feared he might be placed under house arrest by the York family. Before leaving for Rose Manor, he had formulated a backup plan, which included the construction of this secret base.

Who would have thought that Sylvia would become his most beloved partner, while the alchemical creatures, following his will, would build the mountain stronghold to its current scale? The place could now accommodate over three thousand people, complete with production facilities. The fortress was stocked with enough supplies for five hundred soldiers to hold out for three years, making it no less than an ordinary military town.

However, the mountain stronghold was especially deserted now. The craftsmen in the production area and the fortress guards combined numbered fewer than eighty people. In fact, as Victor continued to dispatch Alchemical humans, the mountain stronghold had shifted from a production base to a training base. Its main purpose was now to teach newly created Alchemical humans common social knowledge and a number of new skills, while also functioning as a facility for processing and storing rare materials.

The mountain stronghold maintained a mining and smelting team of one hundred and twenty people. In the mountains over seventy kilometers to the north, a fire-crystal furnace had been built. The mining team excavated ore and smelted it on-site into refined iron ingots and Thorium, which were then transported back to the mountain stronghold by Camelope. Additionally, there was a forward base in the swamp west of the fortress. Saronite Demon Iron Ore, the hides of six-legged crocodiles and Giant Pythons, and other rare swamp resources collected by the Lizardmen and Goblins were all transported back to the fortress via the forward base’s cliff-side winch basket to be processed and stored.

Aside from some perishable biological resources, the mountain stronghold no longer exported supplies. But the total amount of materials it had in reserve was astonishing. The hides of the six-legged crocodiles and Giant Pythons alone were enough to make five hundred sets of top-grade leather armor. Items like Thorium heavy crossbows, Ant-man armor, Mithril ingots, Thorium spheres, and Adamantine ingots all lay quietly in the fortress’s secret chambers.

“This place is like a seed slumbering underground, waiting for the right time to sprout… From now on, let’s call it New Sprout Town.” Victor turned to the Alchemical auxiliary soldier approaching from behind and asked with a smile, “Busuo, New Sprout Town, New Sprout Fort, what do you think?”

“My lord, as long as it pleases you, it shall be called New Sprout Town,” Busuo said, stepping forward. He opened the long wooden box in his hands and introduced, “These are the Thorium-Saronite Steel Arrows forged according to your specifications.”

Inside the box lay two long, thin steel cones, their color as black as night. One end was sharp and pointed, while the other resembled the nock of an arrow but was without fletching.

Victor picked one up and bent it gently in his hands. The Thorium-Saronite Steel Arrow curved easily, then sprang back into shape, its tip a flickering afterimage that vibrated with a hum like the buzzing of a wild bee’s wings.

This was a Thorium-Saronite Steel Arrow, forged from Saron Demon Iron fused with Thorium—an extraordinary arrow that could bend freely and be infused with the void element.

“My bow.”

Taking the Eagle Wing Warbow from Shak, Victor nocked the extraordinary arrow, as black as night, onto the spider silk bowstring. A golden brilliance lit up in his eyes as he entered the Overlimit state, activating Surge and Wind Walk. With a slight exertion of his arms, he instantly drew the 560-pound metal warbow to its full extent. A stream of cyan-black energy swirled around the arrow, rapidly transforming into the indigo of the void wind element.

A miraculous scene unfolded. At Victor’s command, the berserk void wind element integrated into the Thorium-Saronite Steel Arrow. The surging indigo glow vanished, revealing the arrow, as dark as the night sky.

At that moment, Victor gained an additional perspective—the arrow’s. He understood that his Blind Sense, with its 3.6-meter diameter, had attached itself to the arrow infused with the void wind element. It was another form of Wind Whisper. A concept instantly formed in his mind:

A semi-elementalized magic arrow!

Juggling both Blind Sense and his normal vision placed a huge strain on Victor’s Spirit. Without time for further thought, he directly entered the Apocalypse state. His eyes turned golden-yellow, and the flow of time seemed to slow fifty-fold. His fingers released, and the dark, somber magic arrow shot from the bowstring, flying toward the sky at a speed imperceptible to the naked eye. But in his Blind Sense, within the 3.6-meter spherical area around the arrow, wind elements were drawn into the magic arrow in successive relays, converted into void wind element, allowing it to swim through the air slowly and flexibly. What his golden eyes saw was a long, thin, black demonic serpent streaking and weaving through the air at 461 meters per second.

It was a peculiar sensation. The Thorium-Saronite Steel Arrow infused with the void wind element seemed to have a life of its own, becoming an avatar of Victor. It changed direction at his will, making a turn and deftly weaving through the gaps between branches before piercing into the trunk of a Hemlock tree, which was as hard as iron. The wind element was cut off by the wood, and Victor lost control of his “avatar.” The void wind element instantly burst forth, shredding the Hemlock trunk into a cloud of splinters. With a loud crack, the treetop crashed to the ground, while the magic arrow, having already pierced the hard trunk, had vanished without a trace.

Victor deactivated Apocalypse, and X-3 quickly provided the test results.

Tracking Magic Arrow: projectile speed of 461 meters per second, control range of 1108 meters, and a maximum control time of 3.6 seconds. The magic arrow possessed a semi-elementalized property, giving it added sharpness and armor-piercing effects. The void wind element, constrained by the Saron Demon Iron, became more condensed, dealing both physical damage and void wind element damage to the target. When the magic arrow entered a target’s body, the infused void wind element would explode internally, making it a fatal threat to enemies with high Life Tenacity and Elemental Resistance.

Due to the extreme mental power required to control the Tracking Magic Arrow, Victor had to be in the Apocalypse state and could not move while guiding the arrow. Each use of the Tracking Arrow technique consumed an amount of vigor that required twenty-six minutes of natural recovery. With his current Spirit attribute, he could use the Tracking Magic Arrow three times in succession.

Formidable! Utterly formidable!

One could say that the semi-elementalized Tracking Magic Arrow had already surpassed Nemesis to become Victor’s most powerful offensive tool. With this combat technique, he was now a Legendary archer in the truest sense. Even a Gold Knight would find it difficult to withstand three consecutive Tracking Magic Arrows.

Of course, after using it three times in a row, he would be no different from a dead fish.

For a Gold-rank creature, a distance of one thousand meters was not far at all.

Victor stroked a white crystal ring on the middle finger of his left hand as an idea began to form.

Two days ago, he had consulted Father Miller about the matter of Void Blink. Miller had immediately stated that he knew nothing about the application of the void element and was truly unable to help.

Of course, Victor was not about to give up. He followed the God-favored around, chattering relentlessly. Pestered beyond endurance, Miller made him a divine arts ring. This ring could cast Sacred Protection four times.

Sacred Protection comprehensively boosted the four major elemental attributes and had the effect of the Healing Art. It could help a Gold Knight resist the corrosion of the Elemental Sea, allowing them to reach the Legendary realm for thirty seconds and tripling the total amount of void element they could control. It belonged to the category of fifth-rank divine arts. A rank 5 priest could only cast it once every three days, and a sixth-rank priest once a day, but none of them could possibly engrave Sacred Protection into a Holy Crystal. Yet Miller had created a divine arts ring with ease.

Completely unaware of how precious this ring was, Victor had used one charge of Sacred Protection on the spot. The effect was surprisingly good. He actively triggered Void Blink and retained his consciousness during the process. Although he still couldn’t think or make any extra movements, he had personally experienced an elementalized state. In his Perception, the previous chaos had transformed into a blurry black-and-white environment where time was nearly frozen, yet he could reach his intended destination through the inertia of his will. In the real world, his displacement was like a blink, but it wasn’t a true blink. There was still a process of movement and a consumption of time. There had to be a channel of flowing wind elements from start to finish; he couldn’t pass directly through obstacles. Therefore, it shouldn’t be called Void Blink, but Void Walk.

Theoretically, Victor could continuously use Void Walk for the thirty seconds the divine arts ring was active, but his spirit power could only support him for a distance of 238 meters. In the eyes of an observer, he blinked over two hundred meters at a time. If there were cover nearby, he could use Void Walk to get behind it, and others would only think he had suddenly vanished.

The real combat effectiveness of Void Walk needed no further explanation. Most importantly, the experience of elementalization was incredibly rare. Victor had walked once and failed to grasp the mysteries of the Sea of Wind Elements, but he had seen The Path forward.

In truth, the principle was simple. Sacred Protection had enhanced Victor’s spirit power, which in turn enabled Void Walk. As long as he could achieve the corresponding Spirit attribute on his own, he would be considered to have mastered the Void Walk talent. With this top-tier talent, he would eventually grasp the mysteries of the Sea of Wind Elements, thereby gaining a higher authority over the Laws and stepping into the ranks of Sanctuary-rank experts.

Things are often easier said than done. Sacred Protection had increased Victor’s Spirit attribute by 0.3 times, equivalent to a total Spirit attribute of 47 points. It would be extremely difficult for his spirit power to reach such a level. Until then, Sacred Protection was a crucial means of survival and turning the tables in a fight.

Victor wanted Miller to replenish the used charge of the divine art, but Miller said the white crystal ring was a gift. Only when it shattered could he get a new one. At the same time, he required Victor to owe him a promise.

A debt to a God-favored was not one to be incurred lightly. If he could find a solution himself, Victor was unwilling to trouble Miller.

The semi-elementalized magic arrow provided him with a line of thought.

My previous maximum control distance for the void wind element was just over nine hundred meters, but the control range of the Tracking Magic Arrow reached eleven hundred meters. That’s because the dissipative nature of the void wind element requires more spirit power to constrain it, whereas the semi-elementalization of Saron Demon Iron naturally constrains the void wind element, reducing the mental consumption… The principle behind Void Walk and the Tracking Magic Arrow is the same. If I had a suit of armor made from Saron Demon Iron, it could also reduce the spirit power consumption for Void Walk… Perhaps the required Spirit attribute for Void Walk isn’t as high as 47. If I use extraordinary equipment to reduce the mental drain, I might just be able to meet the minimum condition for Void Walk.

The more Victor thought about it, the more excited he became. “Busuo,” he asked, “does New Sprout Fort have enough Saron Demon Iron in reserve to forge a suit of Thorium armor?”

Busuo shook his head. “Far from enough.”

Greatly disappointed, Victor held up the other magic arrow and asked, “Then how many of these Thorium-Saronite Steel Arrows can we make?”

“About twenty-five.”

“Why so few?!” Victor’s surprise turned to anger. He cursed, “Are the Half-dragons not mining diligently? Are they busy catching fish in the water all day?”

Busuo said, “My lord, for over a year now, the Half-dragon tribe has been trading fewer and fewer materials with the forward base. Last year’s total trade volume was less than a twenty-percent share of the year before.”

Victor’s gaze hardened. He asked pensively, “To date, how many metal javelins has the forward base traded with the Half-dragons in total?”

“Over three thousand two hundred.”

Victor stroked his chin and muttered to himself, “So many javelins… no wonder they’ve lost their incentive to trade. They must be preparing for a bloody war with other Half-dragon tribes… If the Half-dragon tribe leaves, who will manage those Goblin slaves?”

The thought of the Goblins’ absurd breeding rate instantly gave Victor a headache. He ordered:

“Get Jack and Imosen in here!”

Chapter 560: The Impact of the Bloody Battle

That afternoon, Jack and Imosen arrived at New Sprout Fort. Victor received them in his study.

Glancing at the Wizard standing ramrod straight, Victor leaned back in his chair and asked with a faint smile, “Is the wound on your back alright? Do you need a priest to take a look?”

Imosen was overwhelmed by the attention. He nodded and bowed, but the movement tugged at the wound on his back, causing the corner of his mouth to twitch. “It’s nothing, my lord, nothing at all,” he said. “Kukes’s whip wasn’t that heavy. I’ve already applied an ointment, and it will heal in a few days. There’s no need to trouble the esteemed priest.”

“As long as it’s nothing serious, that’s good. Because you’ll have to make a trip to the Great Marsh very soon.” Victor nodded, took a beast-hide map from a drawer, and spread it on the desk. He gestured for the two men to come closer. “On this map, I need you to point out all the spheres of influence, including that of The Swamp Scouts.”

The map was made from a whole piece of calfskin and depicted the swamp terrain that had been explored by the alchemical creatures—an area of about twenty thousand square kilometers. It was a long, narrow strip of land, seven hundred kilometers long and thirty kilometers wide, situated right next to the western side of the Larkspur Mountains.

The Alchemical militia, Jack, pointed to the hide map without hesitation. “The Swamp Scouts are divided into three teams. The First Regiment is stationed at the Southern Fortress, with over five hundred men and an operational area of six hundred square kilometers. The Second Regiment is at the Central Fortress, with over six hundred men and an operational area of seven hundred square kilometers. The Third Regiment is at the Northern Fortress, with over five hundred men and an operational area of nine hundred square kilometers… This is our forward base, located between the Southern and Central Fortresses. We have six Dragon-Lizards, twenty-eight dire wolves, and eighty Mystic Warriors. Our sphere of influence covers over six thousand square kilometers. The Half-dragon tribe that trades with us and the Goblin slaves all live within this region.”

Victor lifted his gaze from the map and looked at Imosen. “What are the current numbers for the Half-dragon tribe and the Goblin slaves?”

A troubled expression appeared on Imosen’s face. He stammered, “My lord, I… I haven’t dealt with the Half-dragons in a year.” Noticing Victor’s displeased look, he quickly tried to salvage the situation. “The last time I had contact with the Half-dragons, their numbers were close to forty-five hundred, with over sixteen hundred warriors. The Goblin slaves numbered over six thousand, split into three groups. The largest group had over five thousand Goblins, while the other two had about six hundred and four hundred respectively. They all submit to the Half-dragons’ rule. As for now, I wouldn’t know…”

Imosen was a hundred times unwilling to deal with beastmen again. It made him feel like an anomaly, a status unbecoming of the master of the hunt for House of Randell. But he was even more afraid of losing his master’s favor. He took the initiative and said, “My lord, I can set out immediately to check on their current situation.”

Victor ignored him, frowning as he said, “The Half-dragon tribe only had a little over a thousand members at the start. Based on their procreation speed, it’s impossible for them to have over sixteen hundred warriors now. Did something happen in the interim?”

“I know about that,” Imosen said, cutting in before Jack could speak. “About a year ago, a batch of Half-dragons who lost a bloody battle fled eastward from the west. A portion of them was absorbed by our Half-dragon tribe.”

Under normal circumstances, Half-dragons would not take in their own kind unless they had their own totem behemoth, a very large territory, and sufficient food.

The Half-dragon tribe under Imosen’s control certainly did not have a totem behemoth, but with the power of the Alchemical Dragon-Lizards, they had occupied a vast expanse of the swamp.

In the wild, Marsh Dragon-Lizards were powerful and ferocious creatures, with territories ranging from five hundred to eight hundred square kilometers. They did not serve the Hydra Lizard and would prey on Half-dragons and Lizardmen, making coexistence almost impossible. Due to the Marsh Dragon-Lizard’s wild intuition, Half-dragon hunters found it difficult to kill them and would often avoid their territory, trying their best not to provoke them.

The Alchemical Dragon-Lizards, however, possessed an omnivorous nature; the plants in the swamp were enough to fill their bellies. Although the Alchemical Warhounds were carnivorous, their appetites were limited and they posed no competitive pressure to the Half-dragons and Goblins. Six Alchemical Dragon-Lizards and eighteen Alchemical Warhounds formed three teams, patrolling the sixty-thousand-square-kilometer border of their territory, providing a sanctuary for the Half-dragon tribe and the Goblin slaves.

The forward base, the Half-dragon tribe, and the Goblin slaves had formed a curious symbiotic relationship. The Alchemical Dragon-Lizards and Alchemical Warhounds protected the territory, driving away powerful, ferocious beasts. The Half-dragons mined underwater mineral deposits and hunted six-legged crocodiles, Giant Pythons, and giant Shadow Spiders. They ate the meat and gave the hides and Shadow Spider glands to the forward base in exchange for metal javelins and harpoons. The Goblin slaves, on the condition of having full bellies, contributed a large amount of swamp resources to the forward base, including Thousand-Bend Reed seeds, various herbs and mushrooms, shell-less clams, Capybara meat, ores, and so on. But they were attached to the Half-dragon tribe, not directly controlled by the forward base. Once the number of a Goblin tribe’s members exceeded five thousand, the Goblin chief would, on the Half-dragons’ orders, drive some Goblins out. These Goblins were not protected by the Half-dragons and became rations for carnivorous beasts. However, the territory patrolled by the Alchemical Dragon-Lizards was so vast that the exiled Goblins still provided resources to the Half-dragons in exchange for the right to live in the territory, gradually forming two smaller tribes.

This symbiotic structure resembled a simple little kingdom. The forward base sat at the kingdom’s apex, controlling its domain and seizing a large amount of resources through unequal trade, arming the Half-dragon tribe, exploiting the Goblin slaves, and controlling their numbers. But in the eyes of the Half-dragons, this was akin to a social relationship of serving a totem behemoth, with the six Alchemical Dragon-Lizards patrolling the territory’s borders acting as that totem behemoth.

The problem was that the Alchemical Dragon-Lizards were not the Half-dragons’ totem behemoth; they held not the slightest attraction for them.

The bloody battles that erupted among Half-dragons over the Hydra Lizard would always ripple out to affect numerous tribes. Each tribe wanted to seize the opportunity, desperately trying to get closer to the Hydra Lizard’s territory, which in turn would trigger even larger-scale bloody slaughter—this was the true nature of the Half-dragons’ bloody battle.

The Half-dragon tribe at the forward base had clearly caught the scent of this bloody battle. They were growing restless, planning to leave the kingdom Victor had built to fight for a place of their own.

Victor didn’t care if they bashed each other’s brains out; losers would always fill their spot. But who could have predicted that this group of Half-dragons would be smart enough to absorb losers from the front lines of the bloody battle, strengthening their own numbers before joining the fight among Half-dragons and Lizardmen?

The reason was actually quite simple—their lives had become too comfortable. They had stockpiled so many supplies that they could easily support new members.

If the Half-dragon tribe took all the warriors with them, the little kingdom at the forward base would completely collapse, and the Goblin slaves would become a terrible, massive problem.

Victor stood up from his chair, one hand braced on the map, and said in annoyance, “It looks like a Half-dragon bloody battle has broken out in the Great Marsh, and our tribe is certainly chomping at the bit to join in… These blockheads! To abandon a perfectly good territory to go lick the Hydra Lizard’s ass!” He paused, then asked, “Jack, if I wanted to clean out all the Goblin slaves in the swamp, do you think it’s possible with the strength of the forward base and The Swamp Scouts?”

The Alchemical militia thought for a moment, then shook his head. “These Goblin slaves have already adapted to the swamp environment. The Hobgoblins have wisdom, and the Bugbears have danger sense. We could inflict heavy casualties on them, but the possibility of completely eliminating them is almost zero.”

Victor pondered for a moment, then nodded. “I agree with your assessment… In that case, I want to know, if I were to order a massacre of the Goblin slaves to reduce their numbers, and new Half-dragons came to be our vassals, would the surviving Goblins return?”

Jack answered without hesitation, “They won’t return on their own. We could capture some and bring them back, but the rest of the Goblins would flee in all directions and breed their own separate tribes.”

Victor nodded. He faced the Wizard and said in a pleasant tone, “Imosen, you heard him. If the Half-dragon tribe leaves its territory, then there will be no one to control these Goblin slaves for us… Goblin slaves have a very nasty habit: as soon as their numbers and strength surpass their masters’, they will turn around and enslave them. The number of Dragon-Lizards I’ve tamed is too small. Once the Half-dragon tribe leaves, these Goblin slaves will surely start breeding like crazy. To eliminate the potential threat posed by the Goblins, I have formulated three plans. First, you will go and talk to the Half-dragons. Try to persuade them to leave about a thousand members behind to continue controlling the Goblin slaves. If they refuse, I want you to be the Goblin King for a while, instigating them to kill one another until the defeated Half-dragons arrive to fill the void… If neither of these plans works, then I can only find a way to first gather the Goblin slaves, and then slaughter as many of them as possible.”

Imosen begged with a mournful look on his face, “My lord, the first plan definitely won’t work… I, I really don’t want to be the Goblin King… Why don’t you just clean out the Goblin slaves directly? They’re just going to spread out in the end anyway.”

Victor smiled faintly and said, “To tell you the truth, I’m not worried at all about the Goblins spreading in the Great Marsh. Even if their numbers increase twenty or thirty-fold, when the Ant-man tide arrives, they will become the first line of defense for the Centaur Hills. They can weaken the scale of the Ant-man plague and buy me more time. I learned this trick from the Fishmen. That’s why I would rather disperse them than slaughter them. And since that’s the case, why not let these Goblins continue to gather resources and create wealth for me?”

Imosen was dumbfounded. “My lord,” he said, “you were planning this from the start?”

Victor nodded. “The Forest Centaur tribe, to prevent the Ant-man tide from entering the Centaur Hills and devouring the Purple Cane, would send out hundreds of thousands of Centaur warriors every fifteen years to cross the Great Marsh and eliminate the Ant-man tide on the other side. The swamp-dwelling races, however, could hide in the water and never confronted the Ant-man tide head-on. But with the Westward Migration of the Forest Centaurs, we have become the first line of defense against the Ant-man plague.”

“Our strength was insufficient back then, so I came up with the idea of using the Goblins as a barrier. What choice do they have, since they can’t go into the water? Other than facing the Ant-man tide head-on, they have no path of retreat.”

At this, he fell silent for a moment, then shook his head with a bitter smile. “I must admit, I did a foolish thing…”

Imosen hurriedly said, “My lord, this is a brilliant idea! How could it be a foolish act?”

Victor sighed, his voice low. “If you knew that Goblins once enslaved the beastmen of the northernmost lands, devastated human kingdoms, killed hundreds of thousands of human soldiers, and directly brought about the end of the Golden Age, you wouldn’t think so… In fact, the human kingdoms lost the fertile Northern Wildlands precisely because of the Goblins. And even the beastmen who enslaved the Goblins were consciously controlling the number of their Goblin slaves.”

“The Golden Age? What’s the Golden Age…” Imosen muttered, a look of bewilderment on his face.

“We’ll talk about that later.” Victor waved his hand. “In short, Hobgoblins are very clever. If they discover they are no match for the Ant-men, they might turn around and attack human fortifications, which would instead drain our own war provisions.”

Placing his right hand on the Wizard’s shoulder, Victor said in a tone filled with expectation, “Imosen, only you can help me remedy my mistake now… Confine the Goblin slaves to this region. Don’t let them spread out. When the next Ant-man tide arrives, the Ant-men will wipe them out completely.”

“I am willing to die for my lord!” Imosen said in a deep voice, sinking to one knee. The lord’s high regard had made him feel like a proper Vassal again.

Victor personally helped the Wizard up from the floor, smiling in satisfaction. “I don’t need you to live at the forward base in the Great Marsh long-term. You only need to visit periodically to meet with the Hobgoblin slaves. You can still live at your own manor most of the time.”

Imosen was overjoyed. He rubbed his hands together and said thankfully, “Thank you for your consideration, my lord.”

“Just in case, I grant you permission to cultivate a Biological Aberration in the Great Marsh…”

The Wizard’s face instantly turned deathly pale. Victor asked in surprise, “What? Is there a problem? Has the damage to your soul not yet recovered?”

“My lord, please spare me… If my Wisdom Guidance goes out of control one more time, I’m afraid I won’t survive. Besides… if I’m too far from the Biological Aberration, I’ll have to use Wisdom Guidance frequently to check on its soul’s state… Wisdom Guidance presents as Wizardry runes. If I’m caught by the Church, it’ll all be over,” Imosen said, trembling.

You’ve got Father Miller backing you, what the hell are you worried about… Victor complained internally, but he couldn’t say it out loud. He nodded. “Alright, I’ll dispatch another group of elites to assist you… You may go and rest for now. You’ll stay in the castle during this time. When the Mystic Warriors arrive, you and Jack can go and pay a visit to the Half-dragon chief.”

Imosen collected himself and asked cautiously, “My lord, what about my family…”

“I will send someone to tell your women that you are on a mission for me and will not be returning home for the next month.”

Still uneasy, Imosen asked again, “My lord, you won’t make them remarry, will you?”

“Get out!”

Watching Imosen scurry out of the study, Victor turned and asked, “Jack, how many Alchemical militia can we transfer from The Swamp Scouts to the forward base?”

“My lord, The Swamp Scouts currently have thirty-seven Alchemical militia and eighty-one Alchemical auxiliary soldiers, scattered across the three fortresses. To transfer them all to the forward base would take at least two months,” Jack replied.

“Forget it… such a small number won’t be much use anyway.” Victor shook his head, returned to his chair, and continued, “I will go to Quicksilver Manor shortly and transfer all the Alchemical humans there. You will take them with Imosen to meet the chief of the Half-dragon tribe, and then settle all these men at the forward base.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

Victor thought for a moment, then asked, “I want to send a team to cross the Great Marsh and enter the Endless Forest to reconnoiter the Ant-men’s lair. What kind of alchemical creature force do you think this task would require?”

Jack shook his head. “My lord, during the Half-dragon bloody battle, the swamp creatures are behaving erratically. It would be best not to send anyone across the Great Marsh. If you must go, you could choose to set out during this year’s snowy season. The team should consist of ten Alchemical militia equipped with five Alchemical Warhounds, two Alchemical Dragon-Lizards, and fifty alchemical crows.”

The alchemical creatures sent on a reconnaissance mission like that would not return. This configuration was equivalent to throwing away one hundred and ten thousand Gold Sols, with no guarantee of even making a ripple… Victor’s lips twitched, and he asked with a wooden expression, “How long does a Half-dragon bloody battle usually last?”

“Two to four years.”

Victor let out a breath and shook his head helplessly, muttering to himself.

“We’ll see when the time comes…”

Chapter 561: Primal Blood Secret Art

Before heading to Quicksilver Manor, Victor made a trip to the Hill Secret Fortress. He deposited three hundred thousand Gold Sols into the Alchemy Tower’s funds and set a new production queue. He placed two Alchemical Dragon-Lizards at the top of the list, followed by three hundred alchemical crows and fifty Alchemical Warhounds, for a total cost of one hundred fifty-five thousand Gold Sols.

The Alchemy Tower’s resource reserves were instantly halved. Victor’s heart ached at the expense, but he kept comforting himself that these investments would yield even richer returns in the future.

And indeed, this was true. Victor had previously produced seven Alchemical Dragon-Lizards, a total investment of three hundred and fifty thousand Gold Sols. A few years ago, The two-headed Dragon-Lizard Itugos had killed one of them, leaving only six. These six then occupied Itugos’s territory, an area exceeding six thousand square kilometers. Over the past five years, the half-dragons and goblin slaves within that territory had supplied Victor with a tremendous amount of swamp and mineral resources, with a market value approaching six hundred thousand Gold Sols. This far surpassed the manufacturing cost of the Alchemical Dragon-Lizards, and they still had fifteen years of service life remaining. In other words, the production structure at the forward base generated at least one hundred thousand Gold Sols in profit for Victor annually, and the output for the next fifteen years would be pure gain.

Of course, the resources collected at the forward base could not be simply converted into Gold Sols. The market lacked the capacity to absorb them, and there wasn’t enough currency in circulation. Pushing all these resources onto the market at once would only cause their prices to plummet in the local area. For example, New Sprout Fort had a stockpile of Crystal Glaze Rock contributed by the goblin slaves. At current market prices, they were worth one hundred and seventy thousand Gold Sols, but if this rock were actually dumped on the market in Wildwillow City, its trading price would drop by at least forty percent. This was because the caravans would inevitably force down the purchase price of the Crystal Glaze Rock to ensure they had enough funds to buy other goods.

In that scenario, the Gold Sol itself wouldn’t appreciate, and the cost of creating alchemical creatures in the Alchemy Tower would remain the same, yet Victor would have lost sixty-eight thousand Gold Sols for nothing.

However, if that rock were used to refine crystal and build crystal greenhouses, they could harvest fresh fruits and vegetables during the frigid Season of Water. Silver Moon Manor would no longer need to purchase produce at high prices; they could even sell the surplus or reward it to meritorious vassal families, saving a considerable amount on bounties. Therefore, in the long run, this Crystal Glaze Rock was worth far more than one hundred and seventy thousand Gold Sols.

Likewise, Victor stockpiled certain swamp medicinal herbs, like those used to compound the Dragon’s Vein Potion and the Gold Potion, for his own use rather than selling them.

The production structure at the forward base created one hundred thousand Gold Sols of wealth annually, and Victor would rack his brains to ensure it continued to operate. The key to this was not the lazy half-dragons, but the droves of goblin slaves.

Goblin slaves were the perfect labor force. Compared to the Swamp Scouts, they didn’t require equipment worth sixty Gold Sols, they drew no salary, and there was no compensation to pay if they died. As long as their bellies were full each day, they would work tirelessly. They could craft various tools and perform simple processing on resources, which improved the efficiency of transportation and storage. They could even serve as rations for the Alchemical Warhounds.

How could he give up on such useful slaves?

In seven years at the latest, the second Ant-man tide would appear. Considering the Ant-men’s devastating, plundering nature, Victor decided to make full use of the goblin slaves and seize the time to gather swamp resources. This required investing in more alchemical creatures to fill the void left by the withdrawal of the half-dragon tribes.

Besides producing two Dragon-Lizards and a batch of Alchemical Warhounds, Victor also prepared to dispatch another one hundred and fifty Alchemical humans from Quicksilver Manor to the forward base to help Imosen control the goblin slaves.

Originally, this one hundred and fifty thousand Gold Sols could have been saved and used to produce Alchemical humans instead. If only Imosen would cultivate a powerful Aberrant Beast, it would be enough to intimidate the goblin slaves. It could also explore the unknown regions of the Lizard Marsh, provide cover for a batch of Alchemical militia to cross the marsh, scout the Ant-man nests in the Endless Forest, and even help fend off the Ant-man plague.

In the past, Victor would never have allowed Imosen to control a giant Aberrant Beast. Imosen had once proposed cultivating an Aberrant six-legged crocodile to deal with the out-of-control Itugos, but Victor had vetoed it. Now, however, His Highness Randell was fully confident in his ability to suppress any Aberrant Beast the Wizard might create. The funny thing was, it was now Imosen who was unwilling.

He had once wanted to prove his worth, trying every method to please Victor, all for the sake of returning to the civilized world and reuniting with Beldina. But now he had already returned to the lands of men, enjoying the status of master of the hunt, with two beautiful young wives. He barely even thought about his darling daughter anymore. Why would he risk using Wisdom Guidance Wizardry and exposing his identity as a Wizard?

Imosen came up with a slew of reasons, the main one being his fear of being sent back to the Great Marsh to spend his days with smelly goblins.

It was a matter of personal character, and Victor couldn’t force him. Even if he coerced Imosen into following his orders, a fearful and paranoid Wizard would only make mistakes. In truth, Imosen’s worries were not unfounded. Besides Miller, there were several other mid- to high-rank clergy in the Randell Fief. Father Dane had spoken to Victor about the problem of Wizards just a few days ago. Compared to a few hundred thousand Gold Sols, Imosen’s safety and loyalty were far more important.

Victor traveled alone through the wilderness, soon arriving at Quicksilver Manor where he met Narsen, who had come to join him on his orders.

The sun had just risen. The two exchanged a few pleasantries before standing at the edge of the manor’s training grounds, watching the soldiers drill their secret martial arts.

The soldiers on the training grounds were divided into three groups. The first consisted of Alchemical humans undergoing a three-month crash course in social customs; they practiced the Gray Wolf Combat Technique daily. The second group was made up of young children, about fifty of them, whom House of Randell had adopted through inducement fees. They were, on average, less than nine years old, had all undergone body reconstruction, and were specifically practicing the Gryphon Combat Technique, which could ignite the fire of the mind. The last group was comprised of Ferocious warriors that Quicksilver and the smuggling caravan had managed to gather. Currently, there were only two, practicing the Raging Bear Combat Technique and the Raging Ape combat technique, respectively.

“My lord, the lad practicing the Raging Bear Combat Technique is Rogers. Don’t be fooled by his size and full beard; he’s only twenty-one. He’s a terrific young man, and my most prized student,” Narsen said, pointing to one of them with considerable pride.

He had brown hair and brown eyes, stood a full 1.95 meters tall, with knotted muscles and a stout frame. His bronze skin bore the marks of wind and frost, and three scars marred his chest. A messy beard connected to his hair, obscuring his sharply defined features, making him look like a man in his prime, nothing like a twenty-one-year-old youth. At this moment, he was practicing the Raging Bear Combat Technique shirtless. Every step left a deep footprint on the packed earth of the training ground. His muscles rippled in layers, his movements seamless and whole, like a great bear pouncing, filled with a sense of immense power.

“A bit stronger than you were eight years ago,” Victor commented with a nod.

“Of course! He’s practicing the Raging Bear Combat Technique that you and I created together.” Narsen slapped his chest and laughed heartily, his eyes shining with eagerness. “My lord, how about you assign this kid, Rogers, to the mercenary legion?”

Rogers was once a youth from the mountain folk. His mountain stronghold had been conquered by another band of mountain folk, and his father was brutally murdered. During the Warhammer Smuggling Caravan’s ice-breaking journey, they ran into that other band, and in the process, killed their leader, indirectly avenging Rogers’s blood feud. From then on, young Rogers joined the Warhammer Mercenary Company and was taught with great care by Iron Hammer, making him a successor to the War Bear Mercenaries.

Victor smiled without answering, his gaze shifting to the other Ferocious warrior. This one had red hair and pale grayish-blue eyes. His features were plain, his height average, and his build was lean and wiry. Dressed in tight-fitting leather armor, he was practicing the Raging Ape combat technique. He could cover seven or eight meters in a single step, his movements as swift as flight, like a monkey leaping about, coming and going freely, agile and alert.

He was called Red Wolf, a protege Barol had taken in at Black Fortress Town. He was skilled in theft and had earned the title of master thief.

Victor lifted his chin and asked with a smile, “Red Wolf is practicing the Raging Ape combat technique, so he counts as your student too. Why don’t you want him?”

A look of disdain crossed Narsen’s face. He pursed his lips and said, “His temperament is slippery, and he’s timid as a mouse… The Raging Ape combat technique emphasizes agility, but it demands even more ferocity. The flexible movements are meant for savage attacks. This kid has turned the Raging Ape combat technique into a Fox Combat Technique.”

Victor nodded. “The Raging Bear and Raging Ape techniques originated from your concepts; both carry your style of valor. The Raging Ape is even more brilliant than the Raging Bear. Unfortunately, Red Wolf’s personality is different from yours, so the Raging Ape combat technique isn’t suitable for him… But that doesn’t mean Red Wolf is useless. He could become an outstanding scout and assassin.”

Narsen was very tempted. He rubbed his chin, observed Red Wolf for another moment, and blurted out, “My lord… give me Red Wolf, too.”

Victor chuckled and shook his head. “I’m not giving you either of them! I’m going to take Rogers and Red Wolf with me to teach them personally. As for Macy and Caligula, I’ve already sent for them to come here.”

Narsen’s eyes lit up. “My lord,” he asked in pleasant surprise, “are you going to deduce a higher level of the Mind Bloodline secret art?”

Ordinary people have limited potential. To deduce an advanced Mind Bloodline secret art, it’s best to use Ferocious humans as test subjects. According to the Church’s statistics, the ratio of human feralization is one in seven thousand, but the number who can truly manifest their ferocity is extremely small. Most Ferocious humans go undiscovered.

House of Randell has been screening for Ferocious humans based on the criteria of keen intuition, but after several years of effort, they have only found Rogers and Red Wolf. All the others who claimed to have a ‘danger sense’ were proven to be merely paranoid. Clearly, it is difficult for ordinary people to use objective criteria to determine who is a true Ferocious human.

Adding Rogers and Red Wolf to Narsen, Tournans, and Macy, House of Randell has only five Ferocious warriors.

Victor was helpless about this as well. He hoped that one day Narsen and Caligula could reach Tournans’s level and use the Touch of the Mind to find true Ferocious humans.

But then again, how many Ferocious warriors could Tournans find by himself? It was already quite an achievement for House of Randell to have five of them.

Victor sighed silently and nodded. “The advanced Mind Bloodline secret art is of great importance. Although Rogers and Red Wolf are part of the family, they did come from the smuggling caravan and Quicksilver. To be absolutely safe, I plan to keep them by my side and have them act as my Personal Guards… While I’m at it, I’ll adjust the composition of the personal guard. All guards over the age of thirty-five will be transferred out, allowing them to marry, have children, and start their own families. You and Lilia must arrange their positions and benefits properly, using the standard of a Centurion.”

The lord’s personal guard was the Swiftbird light cavalry, three hundred strong. Half of them were Alchemical humans, and the other half were children from House of Randell’s earliest vassal families. Their strength couldn’t compare to the Alchemical militia, but they were all core members meticulously trained by House of Randell and personally instructed by Victor. In terms of both individual ability and loyalty, they were flawless.

Narsen reacted extremely quickly. He scratched his head and grinned. “The lord’s personal guards don’t marry or have children. That fellow Gru is already forty-one, and he’s still a bachelor… It’s about time we found him a couple of wives so he can have some strong sons… My lord, you don’t need to trouble Lilia with settling the retiring guards. They’re all warriors, so of course they should continue to serve you in the army. Aren’t you planning to form the First Rangers? I think we should let them build the framework for the Rangers… By the way, how many guards are over thirty-five? If there are too many, the mercenary legion can accommodate them.”

Glancing at Narsen, Victor shook his head. “We must first respect their own choices. You can only place those who are willing to take up positions in the army.”

“I wouldn’t want those who aren’t willing, anyway,” Narsen muttered, then said cheerfully, “That’s for the best.”

Victor nodded and said thoughtfully, “Another matter… in eight days, you are to go to Blinor City with Bruce and Trisley to teach Aerie Fortress the principles and applications of the Mind Bloodline secret art… You might meet a Wizard, but there’s no need to be alarmed. He is possibly the most outstanding potion-making master of our time. Your main task is to cooperate with him to develop a spirit meditation potion… However, I hope for broader cooperation between us and Aerie Fortress in the field of the Mind Bloodline secret art.”

“Aerie Fortress’s main focus is researching a Mind Bloodline secret art suitable for Knights, whereas I am more interested in the bloodline potential of ordinary people.” Victor paused, then continued, “During my time in Naville, I saw several Mystic Warriors trained by Aerie Fortress. Their strength, perception, stamina, and physique all reached the level of an initial-rank Knight. Yet they were not Ferocious humans.”

“Ordinary people? How did they manage that?” Narsen’s eyes shone, a look of joyful surprise spreading across his face.

Theoretically, a Knight’s physical attributes represent the peak of human potential, but this was the first time Narsen had heard of an ordinary person’s physical attributes reaching the level of an initial-rank Knight. Take the Elite Guards of House of Randell, for example. Those whose physique and strength were close to an initial-rank Knight had far inferior perception. Those with high perception and agility lacked strength. The problem with ordinary Mystic Warriors was that their attributes weren’t balanced; their weaknesses limited their overall power. Even the Church couldn’t solve this problem. To balance their attributes, Sacred Warriors would rather sacrifice extreme strength. The strength and perception of a mid-rank Sacred Warrior were only equivalent to three times that of an ordinary person.

Narsen had once desperately wanted the training methods for the Bloodguard, so much so that he was eager to lead a team himself to raid the Masked Brotherhood’s lair. He only gave up on the idea because the power behind the Masked Brotherhood was likely a group of Wizards. Still, he often brought it up with Victor, citing the Bloodguard as a source of regret. Now, his interest was intensely piqued by Aerie Fortress’s Mystic Warriors.

Victor said, “They rely on potions and body reconstruction… For certain reasons, Mystic Warriors of this caliber are almost impossible to replicate, and the cost in time and resources to train them is extremely high. That’s why Aerie Fortress isn’t very interested in Mind Bloodline secret arts applicable to ordinary people.”

At this, Victor paused, frowning as he thought to himself:

Wizard Tofwen’s life is nearing its end. He plans to spend his remaining ten-odd years concentrating his efforts on researching potions to complement the Knight’s Mind Bloodline secret art. Whether Aerie Fortress is willing to invest the Wizard’s limited lifespan on ordinary soldiers depends on whether what I have to offer can attract them… The Auguste family has a great number of Knight-Nobles. I have no advantage competing with them for the Knight’s Mind Bloodline secret art. But I can live to be two hundred, while Tofwen only has a dozen years left. As long as he’s willing to help me perfect the potion system for Mind Warriors, once that old fellow dies, I’ll have the potion system and X-3. No one will be able to compete with me in the field of Mind Warriors… Nothing ventured, nothing gained. In addition to those three secret arts, I’ll have Narsen bring the Alchemical Soldiers over for them to see, and pass them off as my Mind Warriors!

Victor made up his mind and continued, “The Mind Bloodline secret art requires the support of potion-making to reach its apex. We need to cooperate with Aerie Fortress’s potion masters to perfect the training methods for Mind Warriors. In the past few months, I have created three types of Mind Bloodline secret arts suitable for ordinary people. The first requires no potions and no body reconstruction. Children around the age of twelve, by coordinating Stance practice and breathing methods with combat techniques, and practicing four hours a day for five years, can achieve physical attributes twice that of an ordinary person. For the second secret art, combined with an ordinary Body-strengthening Potion, an eight-year-old child practicing six hours a day for ten grueling years has a chance to achieve physical attributes three times that of an ordinary person. The third secret art can theoretically allow a warrior’s physical attributes to reach five times that of a normal person, but it requires two body reconstructions and special potions.”

Narsen’s eyes widened, and he lowered his voice to a whisper. “My lord, are you saying strength, perception, physique, and stamina all five times that of a normal person? Not one of those… lopsided Mystic Warriors?”

“…Of course.” Victor raised an eyebrow and asked in amusement, “Are you calling Reno, Bull, Jack, and Shak ‘lopsided’?”

Narsen gave a dry laugh and scratched the back of his head. “That’s not what I meant… I’m just telling the truth. Look at them: the strong ones are slow to react, and the quick ones are weak. Aren’t they lopsided?”

Victor nodded. “Tournans’s Gryphon and Gray Wolf Combat Techniques both pursue balance, and I now share that view… The third secret art already belongs to the realm of a low-rank Mind Warrior’s art. Although it can’t compare to a Knight’s perfect balance, my Mind Warriors can’t lose to their Mystic Warriors.”

“These three secret arts are actually part of the same lineage. I call them collectively the Primal Blood Secret Art, because they unleash a human’s latent bloodline potential without changing the Bloodline Law, giving them strong compatibility. Warriors who cultivate the Primal Blood Secret Art can all switch to cultivating higher levels of the Mind Bloodline secret art and reach the level of a high-rank Mind Warrior—mastering a unique bloodline talent!”

Narsen’s eyes burned with intensity as he asked, “Like the Bloodguards and Shadow Warriors of the Masked Brotherhood?”

Victor said with reserve, “I believe the Bloodguards and Shadow Warriors fall into the category of Mind Warriors, but their talents are singular and lack complementarity. They’ve reached a dead end and are far from comparable to my Mind Warriors. In fact, using special methods, I have already cultivated a Mind Warrior who possesses two talents.”

“Really!?” Narsen couldn’t hide his excitement. His voice trembled as he asked, “My lord, can I meet him?”

Gazing at the two Ferocious warriors practicing their Mystic Forms on the training ground, Victor said lightly, “There’s no hurry. When Caligula and the others arrive, I will introduce him to you. We can also have Rogers and Red Wolf test his strength… For the next few days, you must learn the three sets of the Primal Blood Secret Art…”

As he was speaking, an Alchemical militia from Quicksilver Manor approached with a letter. “My lord,” he reported, “a letter has arrived from Reno at Silver Moon Manor.”

Victor took the letter, unfolded it, and scanned it quickly. His expression immediately turned peculiar.

“My lord, what happened?” Narsen asked from the side.

Victor folded the letter, turned to the curious Narsen, and said, “Nicole is asking if she can come to Quicksilver Manor. And she’s bringing Judy and Lilia…”

“What? My lord… what should we do? Has the secret of the Elite Guards been exposed? What does Lady Nicole mean by bringing Lady Judy to Quicksilver Manor?” Narsen was worried and completely bewildered, concerned that Lilia had gone against her master’s will and revealed the existence of the Elite Guards to Nicole, yet unable to comprehend Nicole’s intention in bringing Judy to Quicksilver Manor.

“…Nicole has been with me for nine years.”

A trace of warm affection flickered in his dark gold eyes. His Highness Randell said softly, “If she wants to come to Quicksilver Manor, there’s no reason why she can’t now.”

Chapter 562: Visiting Quicksilver Manor

The sun sank in the west, and its lingering rays painted vibrant swaths of color across the hills and fields. A gentle evening breeze rustled the broad leaves of the endless Purple Cane forest, making them sway like waves on the sea.

Nicole sat sideways on the Swiftbird’s back, her long, straight, and well-proportioned legs crossed and swinging gently. Her fair, beautiful face was turned toward the sunset, a sweet smile gracing her lips, while the joy and playfulness of a young girl flowed from the corner of her eyes. Her mood was as brilliant as the evening clouds in the sky.

This beautiful, magnificent sea of Purple Cane trees was located in the most remote northwestern corner of the Randell Fief. Further west lay the uninhabited wilderness of the Larkspur Mountains. The scenery there was unremarkable and couldn’t compare to the richness of the Purple Cane forest, but Quicksilver Manor was hidden within those mountains, and Victor was at Quicksilver Manor.

This morning, Reno had conveyed Victor’s order for Macy and Caligula to go to Quicksilver Manor. Nicole immediately realized her man was preparing to conduct an in-depth study of the Mind Bloodline secret art, and she was instantly quite displeased.

She had always believed the well-known Hill Secret Fortress was just a decoy Victor had set up in plain sight. The so-called secret fortress was merely a processing workshop for coffee and Snow Sugar, with a few large blacksmithies and Fishmen farms at most.

What secrets could a few workshops built on a barren mound possibly hold? Only a fool would believe it concealed any secrets. Since Victor had sealed off Hill Camp, not a single spy had even attempted to infiltrate the Hill Secret Fortress. Everyone only needed to monitor the flow of supplies to the fortress to know exactly what was inside.

Sylvia wasn’t the first person to enter the Hill Secret Fortress, nor was Victor. The York family’s knight squad had set up camp there more than a decade ago, even dismantling the cottages left by the Halflings and hauling away many miscellaneous odds and ends. Later, Victor and his followers lived at Hill Camp for a long time. It was in one of the wooden villas of the upper camp that Nicole had spent her first night with Victor. She was intimately familiar with every corner of Hill Camp, for it held her most cherished memories.

The hill was just a hill; it held no secrets. It was always people who held secrets, not a place or a house.

A partner was not a vassal; both parties maintained their independence. That was why Sylvia’s visit to Hill Camp had been discreet; she hadn’t pressed Victor for his secrets. But Nicole considered herself more than just Victor’s partner. She was more willing to be the woman behind him, to be his most trustworthy wife—she always had been.

Now, Victor had finally revealed his long-hidden secret: the Mind Bloodline secret art. This was a secret concerning the very Laws of the world.

Sylvia’s patience and trust had been richly rewarded; she could now sit back and await her lover’s results. Nicole, however, wanted to be involved, to contribute her small part for her man. But Victor had summoned all the family’s Ferocious Warriors, yet pointedly left her out. Of course, Nicole was unhappy about it. It just so happened that Judy came to Silver Moon Manor seeking an audience with His Highness Randell, so Nicole seized the opportunity, using it as an excuse to send a letter to Victor, requesting to bring Lilia and Judy to Quicksilver Manor for an audience with him.

If Victor denied the request for an audience, he would be refusing Judy, not Nicole. She would remain the most well-behaved and gentle woman by His Highness Randell’s side, and she could slowly win His Highness over later. As for her bottled-up frustration, she would naturally take it out on Judy.

Hmph, if you don’t let me go to Quicksilver Manor, I’ll just drive Judy away!

Upon receiving Victor’s reply, Nicole was overjoyed. As instructed in the letter, she waited until the afternoon before setting out for Quicksilver Manor with Lilia and Judy, following Reno and the others.

At that moment, however, Judy was feeling something entirely different.

In the group of seven, everyone except the towering Caligula, who was on foot, rode a Swiftbird. But only Judy’s mount was a beautiful female. Male Swiftbirds were ill-tempered, and as battle companions, they needed to undergo a process of acknowledging their master. The master had to set aside a fixed time each day to play with their Swiftbird mount, feed it, groom it, and train it with commands. Only after two years would they accept their master. A well-trained Swiftbird war-fowl would allow an outsider to ride it, but occasional fits of temper were inevitable. As for fighting to the death to protect their master, that was out of the question.

Judy had taken a Vigor Potion and resonated with thirteen Elemental Nodes, so handling a Swiftbird war-fowl was no problem at all. Yet Nicole had deliberately arranged a docile female bird for her, implying that she was not a member of the House of Randell.

This was a fact, but it was also an indisputable fact that Judy was Victor’s intimate partner.

For Judy, returning to Victor’s side was what mattered most. Ever since being driven out of Wildwillow City by Buriatt and then being shunned by the House of Randell after refusing Nicole’s recruitment offer, she had, for the first time in her life, actively pursued her own future. For the past three years, not a day went by that she didn’t miss Victor; it was practically the only thing that kept her going. But as time passed, she gradually adapted to being a female knight, living alone in the frontline camp by the river, with no servants, taking care of herself. On the riverbank battlefield, she fought shoulder-to-shoulder with mercenary soldiers, experiencing her own strength and earning the soldiers’ respect.

She began to re-examine herself and understand Victor anew. In the words of the House of Randell’s vassals, their master was first praised for his Virtues of strength, wisdom, benevolence, and justice, and only then for his unparalleled beauty and elegance. This showed the qualities Victor valued, and her own beauty and gentleness were insignificant in his eyes. By the same token, the loss of her status as the Viscount’s wife was also unimportant to Victor. To win back his favor, ability and loyalty were all that mattered—the very qualities lauded in a Knight.

So, she cut off her treasured long hair, burned her magnificent long dresses, and held herself to the strict standards of a Knight, finding a joy in it she had never known before.

However, just as Judy was dreaming of reuniting with her lover as a female knight, the Church announced Viscount Randell’s promotion to a Highness. At that moment, Judy wavered. She knew full well that a Highness was the pinnacle for the Knight-Nobles, representing the highest level of power, prestige, and authority.

The gap between a non-naturally promoted female knight and a Highness is too vast. Would Victor still think me worthy?

Victor had suddenly appeared on the riverbank battlefield, displaying the unrivaled power of His Highness Randell. Although he hadn’t said a word, when their eyes met, Judy read encouragement and approval in those golden eyes.

Afterward, Victor hadn’t summoned her or even made any comment about her, but Judy had given it much thought.

His Highness Randell was known throughout the world for his wisdom and decisiveness. He couldn’t possibly have been unaware that crushing the Fishmen would leave that stretch of the riverbank battlefield inactive for half a year, consequently slowing the training intensity of Randell’s mercenary legion. The Second Legion’s frontline camps were all in a state of rest and reorganization.

Judy believed Victor had done this to give her time to rest and to proactively seek him out. So, she went to Silver Moon Manor to request an audience with Victor, and then followed Nicole to the true secret fortress of the House of Randell—Quicksilver Manor.

She had a faint feeling that Nicole giving her a female bird wasn’t an insult, but rather a matter of etiquette. She was not yet a member of the House of Randell, only one of His Highness Randell’s partners. She would meet Victor in her capacity as a partner, and whether she would join the House of Randell would depend on their mutual choice. Until then, she had the rights of a partner.

The loud barking of sentinel hounds echoed from the distance. Reno led the group over a hill, and a large camp of earth and timber construction appeared before them. The camp guards lowered the drawbridge. Nicole urged her Swiftbird forward first, riding into the camp. Seeing Victor and Narsen approaching with several guards, she jumped off her Swiftbird, went to Victor’s side, and took his arm. Curious, she looked around at the buildings and asked with a charming laugh, “Darling, is this Quicksilver Manor? It’s so deserted.”

As a legendary Highness, Victor was confident he could suppress most situations. Even if the secret of the Alchemy Tower were exposed, given his current power and extraordinary strength, others wouldn’t dare to act rashly against him. At worst, it would be a mutually destructive struggle; he could just flee alone, and none of those who opposed him would ever sleep soundly again.

In truth, with Father Miller and Sylvia’s endorsement, Victor wasn’t worried about the Alchemy Tower drawing threats from the human kingdoms; he was wary of the entity behind the Alchemy Tower. If he walked The Path of conquest and unification, he could very well fall into a deadly trap. To crush the resistance of the lords and the Church, he would have to emulate the Ant-man model, plundering his opponents’ wealth and resources to continuously produce alchemical creatures. In that case, the financial system of the human kingdoms would completely collapse, gold coins would become meaningless, and the Alchemy Tower, which once consumed gold, could only be fed resources.

Sacrificing the resources of the real world to an unknown extraordinary existence was tantamount to shouldering an unknown risk. Victor would not let it have its way. He highly suspected this was how the Alchemical Empire had collapsed, and that the invaders had been deliberately released by the entity behind the Alchemy Tower to force the Alchemical Empire to sacrifice resources to it. This was the original reason Victor pushed for social progress in the human kingdoms, established The Golden Company, developed trade, and insisted on mutually beneficial cooperation.

Therefore, the fewer people who knew the secret of the Alchemy Tower, the better.

Reno, Shak, and Jack loitered around Silver Moon Manor all day. The special nature of the Alchemical militia couldn’t be hidden from Victor’s bedfellows, but they would only assume they were Mystic Warriors Victor was cultivating. Besides, no one could possibly imagine how many Alchemical militia there actually were. If Nicole saw a hundred Mystic Warriors at Quicksilver Manor, Victor would have some explaining to do. As for the people living in Quicksilver Manor, their knowledge was limited. Unlike Nicole, they didn’t understand the current state and operational methods of the House of Randell and would only think that having over a hundred soldiers training at Quicksilver Manor was normal.

Since Nicole wanted to come to Quicksilver Manor, Victor couldn’t be bothered to explain. He had moved all the Alchemical humans in the camp to New Sprout Fort early on, making the entire manor look empty, desolate, and devoid of life.

“The fewer people, the easier it is to move Quicksilver Manor.”

To Nicole, Lilia, Judy, and Macy, Victor’s bland explanation sounded suspicious. The four ladies were now certain this was His Highness Randell’s true secret fortress, a place where the fewer who knew about it, the better.

Glancing at Judy, whose expression was complicated, Victor instructed the group, “It’s getting dark. I’ve prepared food and rooms for you. Everyone, rest early and don’t wander around. We’ll talk tomorrow morning if there’s anything.”

With that, he took Nicole’s jade hands and walked toward the largest wooden villa in Quicksilver Manor. Narsen led Caligula away. Lilia and Macy followed a guard to a nearby wooden house. Judy remained where she was, gazing at Victor’s retreating back until he and Nicole closed the door. Only then, with a wronged look in her eyes, did she follow the guard to her own wooden house to rest.

Once inside the villa, Nicole let go of Victor’s arm. With the pitiful look of a child who had done something wrong, she bit her lip and asked anxiously, “Darling, are you angry with me?”

“Angry. Very angry…”

“My husband, a Wizard is secretly working for you, isn’t that right?”

Chapter 563: A Wonderful Misunderstanding

The Wizard Nicole was speaking of was definitely not Imosen or Beldina. Victor remained completely unperturbed, saying lazily, “Darling, I’m listening. Please, continue.”

Wizards were always the most sensitive of topics. Even high-ranked Knight partners wouldn’t ask each other if a Wizard was secretly serving them. Nicole didn’t expect an answer from Victor; she only wanted to establish the relationship of a liege lord and his wife with him. When the relationship of husband and wife overlapped with that of partners, her bond with Victor would become even more seamless and intimate.

Hearing Victor encourage her to continue talking about Wizards, Nicole’s heart felt as sweet as honey. She hummed softly a couple of times, a sweet, nasal sound, then leaned close to her lover’s ear, her breath as fragrant as an orchid as she spoke:

“Ever since you became the liege lord of the Centaur Hills, Reno, Shak, and Jack have always been by your side. They all have the strength of a Ferocious Warrior, but they lack a Ferocious Warrior’s keen intuition. And they don’t like beautiful women… You once had Monkey buy some women from Black Fortress Town to be wives for the War Bear Mercenaries, but Reno and the others have remained single. They even rarely go to the taverns in Laketon for pleasure… To have strength approaching that of a Ferocious Warrior yet show no interest in women is actually a characteristic of a Mystic Warrior.”

“The question is, how could you have trained Mystic Warriors when you had only just become a liege lord?”

Victor chuckled. “My dear, you have quite an imagination.”

Nicole rolled her eyes at him and said coquettishly, “Am I always just a silly little fool in your eyes?”

After thinking seriously for two seconds, Victor teased her in a firm tone, “In my eyes, you are a silly little fool most of the time.”

Nicole gently twisted Victor’s arm, let out a giggle, then sighed. “Everyone, including My Lady, was deceived by you… It wasn’t until Rose Manor discovered that people like Reno and Shak were becoming more and more common in the Randell Fief, almost forty of them, that it caught the old steward’s attention. At first, he suspected they were Mystic Warriors trained by Aerie Fortress and that you had a close relationship with them. But he quickly dismissed that possibility, because Night Owl wouldn’t be foolish enough to place Mystic Warriors by your side so openly.”

“You founded the House of Randell only a short time ago, so there’s no way you could have trained over forty Mystic Warriors. Therefore, only one possibility remains: you’ve captured a Wizard. He can turn ordinary people into Mystic Warriors, at the cost of temporary memory loss and loss of fertility, which they gradually recover. That’s why Reno and the others were so wooden and taciturn at first, but have now returned to normal. While they had lost their memories, you instilled in them the concept of loyalty, which is why you trust them so much.”

Every action leaves a trace. As long as the Alchemical Humans were active in the Randell Fief, they were bound to have a tangible impact on the Randall family. The key was, who could see the whole picture? A partial observer would certainly have limited knowledge, but the York family was a great family with a legacy stretching back a thousand years. They had a comprehensive system for monitoring their territory and could independently handle intelligence gathering, data compilation, and analysis without needing authorization from their liege lord. The Randall and York families were close, so Victor wasn’t surprised that they had noticed the peculiarities of the Alchemical Humans. In fact, during the young King’s coronation, Sylvia had sent Trisley, the head of intelligence at Rose Manor, to his bed as a gift. Victor was certain then that Sylvia and Trisley had already grasped some of the situation, and the two had even argued over him.

Nicole taking the initiative to discuss Reno and the Wizard with him was certainly not at Sylvia’s direction. If Sylvia wanted to ask, she would have asked herself; she wouldn’t have others probe Victor’s greatest secret.

Victor thought for a moment, then asked, “My dear, you’ve known for a while, haven’t you?”

Nicole nodded, snuggling deeper into Victor’s arms. “When you told me about the smuggling caravan, it was tantamount to telling me you had a special method to turn ordinary people into Mystic Warriors. No liege lord would be willing to send a team to deal with the Mountain Folk. The cost is too great, and the profits from trading with them wouldn’t even cover the loss of a single Mystic Warrior… Combining that with the special circumstances of Reno and the others, I believe you formed the smuggling caravan for two reasons. One was to build up The Golden Company and smuggle coffee and Snow Sugar; the other was to gather the population of Mountain Folk to provide candidates for your Wizard to create Mystic Warriors… After all, the Mountain Folk are isolated from the world and are the group least watched by the Church.”

“My dear, you never mentioned it, and I never asked. I just pretended I didn’t know anything.” At this, Nicole bit her lip and said, “I originally wasn’t going to bring this up with you unless you told me first… But a year ago, my Tutor Trisley happened to mention that My Lady once asked His Holiness the Pope to use the Art of True Sight to see if you were under the influence of Wizardry. The result was negative. I suspect that My Lady and my Tutor have already guessed you’re controlling a Wizard and were deliberately testing my attitude… I had to warn you.”

A year ago, Victor had officially been promoted to the rank of Highness. Logically, he should have moved into Rose Manor to govern the Centaur Hills alongside Sylvia, entrusting the daily affairs of the Randell Fief to Nicole’s care. Nicole had been by Victor’s side for so long without ever mentioning her suspicions about the Wizard to Rose Manor. Trisley worried that her “silly little fool” of a student would one day run into the Randall family’s “Wizard,” handle it improperly, and cause trouble. Behind Sylvia’s back, she had secretly hinted at it to Nicole, and Nicole, in turn, passed on her Tutor’s concern to her lover.

Those two women are truly adorable… Victor didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Darling,” he said, “that sounds an awful lot like tattling!”

Nicole hugged Victor’s arm and said righteously, “Of course not… You’re a Highness of our York family now, so it’s only right that I tell you. Besides, that Wizard is almost useless now… Your Highness has excavated his Law of Wizardry and created the Mind Bloodline secret art.”

Her eyes were full of emotion as she said proudly, “A Wizard’s power is precious, but they all die eventually. No one has ever been able to pass on a Wizard’s power, let alone improve upon it… except for my man, the natural-born sage, His Highness Randell.”

She wasn’t entirely correct, but she wasn’t far off the mark.

In the ancient Alchemical Empire, Wizards were known as Mages. Their social status was at least equal to that of Alchemists, and in the field of researching the world’s Principles, Mages might have held an even higher academic standing. Victor would never believe that Mages hadn’t participated in the invention and application of the Alchemy Tower.

An Alchemy Tower creating alchemical creatures… isn’t that just like a Wizard?

Attributing incomprehensible phenomena to the realm of Wizardry was a consensus among the extraordinary beings of this era. Nicole attributed the Randall family’s Mystic Warriors to some Wizard, and even Sylvia couldn’t escape the limits of her own perception. Even Victor himself, upon witnessing the Alchemy Tower’s process of void creation, found it utterly incredible.

However, part of his Will Side came from Earth. In that world devoid of проявляющихся deities, humanity had long been accustomed to understanding the world’s Principles and then utilizing them. Victor’s way of thinking was more open than that of the Knight-Nobles. Once he realized that the four void elements evolved into all things in the world, he could grasp the basic principle behind the Alchemy Tower’s creation of alchemical creatures. Others, who hadn’t seen it with their own eyes, could rack their brains and never imagine that Victor’s secret was truly hidden in Hill Camp.

This misunderstanding was a good thing for Victor. What was a lord like His Highness Randell keeping a Wizard for? What’s more, he was analyzing Wizardry to create the Mind Bloodline secret art, which was incredibly valuable to both the Knight-Nobles and the clergy of the Church.

“My dear, I won’t confirm or deny it. Let’s not speak of this topic again in the future.”

Nicole’s face was filled with happiness. “I understand. You’re trying to protect me, afraid I’ll be implicated… My love, I promise you, I will never discuss this with anyone! But if My Lady asks me… should I pretend not to know then, too?”

Victor wrapped his arm around Nicole and said with an amused smile, “You silly girl, Sylvia hasn’t asked you all this time precisely because she’s also trying to protect you.”

Nicole visibly relaxed. On one side was her beloved husband, and on the other was the concept of loyalty instilled in her since childhood. She would have been torn no matter which one she betrayed.

“Then… if My Lady asks, should I tell her my suspicions?”

Victor smiled faintly. “She won’t ask you.”

If My Lady doesn’t ask me, she’ll definitely ask you directly… Nicole couldn’t help but pout, but then she heard Victor say:

“Why did you bring Judy here?”

His questioning tone turned Nicole’s pout into a smile that bloomed like a flower. “If you don’t like it, I’ll take her away tomorrow.”

Victor responded with conviction, “My Lady Nicole isn’t so petty.”

Nicole was greatly pleased and explained softly, “Judy is, after all, an initial-rank female knight now. She just needs to take a Gold Potion to become a senior knight. Of course I won’t push her away, but she needs to understand that she is not fit to be the partner of His Highness Randell. If she still clings to the identity of a partner, how should our Randall family accommodate her? Judy was driven out of Wildwillow City by Buriatt without a single confidant or attendant. Even if she were to marry down to some minor lord, how could she secure her own position? She should have figured it out by now. No one would dare marry her as their lady. You are her only support… Since she’s unwilling to be my Sworn Knight, then let her be the Sworn Knight of His Highness Randell. As long as she depends on you and is loyal to you, it doesn’t matter if she resents me. To be honest, I am close to Lilia, so Judy can no longer be close to Lilia. This is the balance of power you taught me.”

Victor was silent for a moment before nodding in approval. “Well done.”

A smile bloomed on Nicole’s lips. Her slender hand caressed Victor’s face as she said, “The conditions at Quicksilver Manor are simple. If you’re going to live here long-term, you’ll need someone to serve you. Lilia and Elina’s power is weak and their willpower shallow; they aren’t suitable to participate in the research of the Mind Bloodline secret art. The attendants and handmaidens from Silver Moon Manor are even less able to keep secrets. Judy also admires you very much. She will serve you well.”

“That still depends on her being willing to become my Sworn Knight,” Victor nodded, then asked curiously, “My dear, what if I had refused to let you come to Quicksilver Manor this morning?”

Nicole pursed her lips and said resolutely, “If you had refused my request for an audience, it would have meant I am not worthy of His Highness Randell. In that case, I would have immediately attempted to break through to the Silver realm and become an Extraordinary Knight.”

Victor was taken aback. He hadn’t expected Nicole to have such a fierce side. He let out a long sigh and said, “My dear, don’t do anything foolish.”

“My love, this has nothing to do with you.” Nicole pressed her cheek against Victor’s chest, feeling his slow, powerful heartbeat, and murmured, “I use you as my anchor in the physical world. The farther you go, the more you help me… I will achieve the Gold rank and stay by Your Highness’s side for a long, long time.”

The next morning, Judy was awakened by a knock on the door. She heard Reno’s voice, “My Lady, the Master invites you to join him for breakfast. I’ve brought your clothes for you; they’re right outside the door.”

Then, the sound of Reno’s footsteps faded away. Judy swung her long legs out of bed, walked to the door, and pushed it open. On the ground outside sat a large wooden chest, still damp with dew. Someone had clearly brought it to Quicksilver Manor from outside overnight.

Lifting the chest with ease, she carried it back into the room, placed it on a table, and opened it. Her emerald eyes immediately lit up. Inside were several sets of spider silk dresses, high-heeled shoes, and magnificent jewelry, all in the styles Victor liked best.

Two hours of deep sleep had left no trace of her restless night on her face. She was as radiant as ever, a pleasant smile on her lips as she took out the colorful dresses, laid them on the bed, and prepared to choose one to wear to meet her lover. But when the bottom of the chest revealed a full set of women’s Dragon-Lizard leather armor, Judy couldn’t help but freeze.

She touched her ear-length short hair, the soft charm in her eyes gradually replaced by determination. She first put on the python skin inner armor, then equipped the Dragon-Lizard leather armor piece by piece. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she pulled on a pair of high-tube, mid-heeled women’s combat boots and stood up to move her body around.

The Dragon-Lizard leather armor was well-designed and exquisitely crafted, dyed a dark red that gave it a dignified, serious, and noble air. What pleased Judy the most was that it fit her body perfectly, outlining her beautiful curves. She felt no obvious restriction as she moved, her actions fluid and natural.

Judy couldn’t remember anyone at Silver Moon Manor ever taking her body measurements, except for Victor. Clearly, the material for this leather armor came from the Two-headed evil dragon that Her Highness Sylvia had slain. It was a suit of Double-headed Dragon-Lizard leather armor that Victor had specially prepared for her.

Picking up the Adamantine longsword that was leaning against the bed, Judy pushed open the door and strode with strong, vigorous steps toward the central villa of Quicksilver Manor.

Led by Shak, Judy entered the rear hall of the villa and saw His Highness Randell, his eyes holding a strange dark gold glint. He stood up from his seat at the head of the dining table and said with a smile:

“Darling, that Dragon-Lizard leather armor looks absolutely beautiful on you.”

Chapter 564: Charlotte Randell

Secretly circulating her Aura to suppress the urge to cry, Judy performed a standard Knight’s salute and said in a clear, bright voice, “Good morning, Your Highness.”

Victor smiled faintly, pulled out the chair to the right of the head of the table, and invited her with a warm gesture, “Please, sit.”

A warmth flowed through Judy’s heart. “Thank you,” she said softly. She laid her delicate hand on Victor’s palm as he helped her into the chair. Then, she held his hand, gazing up at the handsome face she had yearned for day and night. “My love, I’ve missed you so much…” she said gently.

Victor gave her small hand a gentle squeeze of comfort before returning to his seat. He poured her a glass of milk and said, “My love, even from the distant Kingdom of Naville, I have been watching over you.”

Without Your Highness’s attention, I would probably still be raising pigs… Judy smiled sweetly, all her anxiety and grievances vanishing in that instant. She took a sip of milk and then remarked, “My love, you’ve changed so much. You never used to have such a good appetite…”

The table was laden with a lavish spread of food, half of which was meat, in portions far exceeding what a normal person would need. In Judy’s memory, Victor had always preferred lighter fare and ate sparingly. A glass of milk, a few pieces of fresh fruit, and a small piece of white bread were usually enough for his breakfast.

Victor placed a juicy, seared steak into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. Knife and fork still in hand, he chuckled, “I’m very pleased with my current appetite. Do you know why?”

Before Judy could shake her head, he continued, “Different perspectives yield different answers. From my personal standpoint, consuming food is a most fundamental ability. Through eating, I can convert the laws of the external world into the laws of my own… I know that sounds a bit convoluted, so allow me to give you an example. Do you see the roasted goose on the table? Geese eat grass, which we do not. But by eating the goose, we can also transform the grass into a part of ourselves.”

“This part can be strength, wisdom, life, or even offspring. However, none of it can exceed the limits of our own laws. I can’t eat a goose and sprout wings, or grow feathers all over my body…”

Victor’s words were amusing, and Judy let out a small laugh. He went on, “The fundamental principle of the world is that while we cannot transcend our own inherent laws, we can utilize them to their fullest potential. I have achieved this… After I mastered the Surge talent and could naturally interact with the void water element, I developed a preference for a vegetarian diet. Now, not only can I passively absorb the void water element, but I can also fully assimilate food and convert it into my own power.”

“I have walked a different path from Her Majesty Draven from three thousand years ago.” Victor stated it as a simple fact. “I am more powerful than she was, because I possess the power to be the sovereign of my own laws, and I can impart this power to Knights, clergy, and mortals.”

Judy cupped her cheek, gazing at Victor with tender affection. Her red lips parted, her melodious voice filled with adoration and fascination, “Your Highness, I can’t fully comprehend your wisdom right now, but I believe every word you say without a doubt.”

Her admiration was plain to see. Though it wasn’t the thirst for knowledge Victor might have hoped for, it greatly satisfied his masculine pride. He cut a piece of goose breast, placed it on Judy’s plate, and added:

“I enjoy delicious food. To cook a roasted goose like this requires eleven steps and seven different spices, and it takes six hours. Even a legendary Highness like myself, who can survive alone in the wilderness, could never make this roasted goose by myself… With a single command from me, more than twenty cooks at Quicksilver Manor worked through the night to prepare it. They accomplished something His Highness Randell could not… If we trace it further back, from hatching and raising the goose to its slaughter and preparation, plus the gathering, processing, storage, procurement, and transport of the spices, hundreds of people have labored for this single dish. From that perspective, the roasted goose on this table represents power.”

“Judy, we possess strength, and we enjoy power.”

Judy looked thoughtful, silently finishing her breakfast with Victor. After the servants had cleared the dishes and wiped the table, Victor picked up a napkin, wiped his hands, and asked with a smile, “How does the taste of strength and power feel?”

Pouting almost imperceptibly, Judy said sullenly, “I’m very full.” She hadn’t grasped the intent behind Victor’s words at all, and it left her feeling dejected. Why can’t you just coax me like you used to? she thought.

“…I ate most of it.”

Stroking Judy’s cheek, which was as smooth as cream, Victor sighed and drew his hand back. “My love, you are my partner. No one can deny that. Three years ago, I planned to bring you to Silver Moon Manor to serve as my favored mistress, to keep any other man from ever touching you. But that wouldn’t be fair to a female knight… I can give you a life of luxury, but I don’t have much time to spend with you, just as I wouldn’t spend my time roasting a goose. You and I could never have children… Now, I am willing to respect your right to choose.”

“If you wish to leave me, I will arrange everything for you. If you are willing to be my favored mistress, then you will stay obediently in Silver Moon Manor and be content as a carefree caged bird… Or, you can swear an oath of fealty to me, become my Sworn Knight, be my armor and my longsword, entrust your future and your life to me, and share in my strength and power.”

Clad in her Dragon-Lizard leather armor, Judy shot up from her chair. Victor thought she was about to kneel on one knee and swear her oath, but instead, she moved to sit sideways before his chair, her legs curled up on the floor. She pressed her cheek against his knee, her beautiful eyes shimmering with tears as she murmured, “My love, I just want to be by your side. Please, don’t send me away. I’ll do whatever you ask of me…”

“…” Victor resisted the urge to cover his face in exasperation. His tone carried a hint of helplessness. “I thought you had learned the Path of the Knight.”

“Mm… I only learned the Path of the Knight to please you.”

“…And what do you think the Path of the Knight is?”

“Raising pigs… killing Fishmen…” Seeing Victor’s mouth twitch, she added pitiably, “…helping your mercenary soldiers retreat safely? My love, I’ve tried so hard. I always want to be the last one to leave the battlefield, to protect the personal guard you assigned to me as much as possible, but if I don’t retreat, they won’t leave.”

Victor rubbed his temples, a smile tugging at his lips. He nodded. “You’ve done very well… But from now on, you must ensure your own safety first. If you fall in battle, none of those guards will be allowed to live.”

“Mm, I’ll listen to you… My love, you’re so good to me.” Judy looked up, her eyes filled with joy as she asked, “My love, do you want me to be your favored mistress, or your Sworn Knight?”

Victor was silent for a moment. He looked at the Double-headed Dragon-Lizard leather armor she wore and couldn’t help but ask, “Why did you choose to wear this armor to see me?”

“What’s wrong?” Judy glanced down at her attire in confusion, biting her lip as she explained aggrievedly, “This is the armor you had specially made for me… I thought you would like it. Do you want me to go change into a dress?”

Victor was utterly speechless. He had prepared different outfits for Judy, wanting her to make her own choice. Now, he had to admit he was wrong. Not all knights were uniformly independent and strong; some people were accustomed to having their lives arranged for them, and Judy was just such a female knight.

The moment you think you can change someone else, you’ve already made a mistake… Victor admonished himself. Tapping the table, he lifted Judy’s delicate, charming chin and gazed into her green eyes. “Being my Sworn Knight and my favored mistress are not mutually exclusive. But have you ever considered that as my mistress, as His Highness Randell’s Sworn Knight, you can no longer have any relationship with your son, with your parents, with your brother, with the Briatte family!”

Judy grasped Victor’s hand and pressed it to her cheek. “I understand,” she said softly. “Primo and the Briatte family don’t need me anymore… If you don’t need me either, I don’t know where I would go. As long as you’re willing to accept me, to need me, I’m willing to do anything for you. I’ll raise pigs for you, kill Fishmen for you, and use all my strength to defend the honor of the House of Randell… But, if one day in the future, Primo… he…”

A sense of belonging? That’s not a bad conviction either… Victor nodded to himself and interjected, “I will not force my Knight, my mistress, to make such a cruel choice!”

Judy gazed deeply into Victor’s eyes and couldn’t help but confess, “Victor, I love you. From the moment you saved me, I’ve longed to serve you… Although I know you didn’t do it entirely for me, and perhaps I don’t hold much weight in your heart, you appeared before me again when I was at my most vulnerable. You affirmed my efforts, encouraged me, and gave me the courage to persevere. Whether this is love or not, whether you love me or not, I love you deeply. I have no doubt about that.”

“Victor, I do not ask for strength or power from you. I only wish to be by your side, to serve and be loyal to you for the rest of my life.”

Judy’s limpid gaze was as steady as a rock. Victor, who had long been unmoved by words, couldn’t help but feel a stir in his heart.

If you don’t want me, I’ll leave. If you want me, I’m willing to serve you. Whether you love me or not, I love you… This was, in fact, a form of loyalty to herself. Judy lacked her own opinions and was accustomed to depending on others, but that was merely a product of her personality. Her loyalty to her own feelings, however, was something not everyone could achieve.

Victor chuckled. “My love, that is the most beautiful oath of loyalty I have ever heard…”

“Ah?!” Judy quickly dropped to one knee. Glancing around, she explained in a panic, “Your guards took my sword…”

Victor shook his head with a smile, which then faded. He stared into Judy’s eyes, his gaze profound and ruthless as he said, “Before you swear your oath, I must tell you: this is Quicksilver Manor, and it is here that I will reveal my greatest secret. If you dare to divulge my secret, I will kill you… My love, it is not too late to regret this.”

“I will never regret it,” Judy said, her smile like a blooming flower. “My love, can we begin?”

“Judy, you have already made your oath.”

“Then… the joining of hands?” Judy blinked, extending her slender, beautiful hands toward Victor.

Victor smoothly pulled Judy into his arms. A moment later, he gently pushed her away and said with a smile, “My female knight, your oath of loyalty to me is one of a kind, and my joining of hands with you shall be unique as well.”

Judy’s voice was soft and alluring as she pleaded, “Master, please grant me a name and a surname.”

Victor held Judy and declared solemnly, “Your Excellency, Charlotte Randell, I, the Highness of the Kingdom of Gambie, Victor Wimbledon Randell, entrust my life to you and will cherish you with all my might. My honor is your honor, and your shame is my shame.”

Leaning against Victor’s chest, Judy softly recited:

“From this day, until forever, I am Charlotte Randell, the Sworn Knight of His Highness, Victor Wimbledon Randell. My beloved Master, I entrust my life to you and will serve you and obey you with absolute loyalty. Your honor, I shall defend with my blood; any shame you suffer, I shall wash away with the blood of our enemies.”

Victor lifted his favored mistress and Sworn Knight, setting her on her feet. He took her hand and said, full of vigor and ambition:

“Charlotte, come. I will show you our strength and our future!”

On the training grounds of Quicksilver Manor, Nicole was already waiting for Victor with Lilia and the others. Seeing Judy, clad in armor, clinging to Victor’s arm like a docile bird, she couldn’t help but wrinkle her cute, upturned nose. She stepped forward, an eyebrow raised, and said, “I offer you my congratulations, Knight Charlotte Randell. On behalf of the House of Randell, I welcome you as a member of the family.”

Hearing Nicole address her directly by her new name, Charlotte first glanced at Victor, then released his arm, took a half-step back, and curtsied. “Charlotte thanks My Lady for taking me in.”

Nicole was very pleased with the astute nature of the family’s new Sworn Knight. She smoothly took Victor’s arm and asked, “My love, we are dying to see these Mind Warriors you’ve cultivated.”

Victor’s eyes swept over the group. The most conspicuous was Caligula, with his dazed expression; his frame was simply too massive. The bearded, brawny-looking Rogers was also a big man, but he seemed short standing next to the giant. Rogers was not old, but his eyes were restless, darting glances at Macy, who stood behind Lilia. According to Iron Hammer, the boy had a particular fondness for mature, buxom women, especially those who were powerfully built—a standard of beauty for a spouse among the mountain folk hunters. Macy was clearly the type most favored by the mountain folk. She had a large frame and solid muscles, but she wasn’t sinewy and rough like a man. A layer of fat beneath her fair skin softened her lines, giving her feminine charm. She had undergone three body reconstructions, and her once plain features had become much more beautiful and youthful. She didn’t look much older than Rogers, but in reality, there was a sixteen-year age gap between them.

Macy was willing to abandon her husband and son in her pursuit of the power of a Ferocious Warrior. Her disposition is tough and decisive, not like that of an ordinary woman… I’ll observe her for a while longer. If she is loyal enough to the family, I could consider creating a tailored Mind Bloodline secret art for her and having her marry Imosen… Having mentally arranged a husband for Macy, Victor’s gaze shifted to the shadows between Caligula and Narsen, where the slender Red Wolf stood, possessing a naturally faint presence and a fondness for hiding where others wouldn’t notice.

Narsen, Caligula, Macy, Rogers, Red Wolf—all five Ferocious Warriors of the House of Randell were here. Victor beckoned for Lilia and Narsen to stand by his side, then turned to face the other four Ferocious Warriors and said:

“For a long time to come, you will all be living at Quicksilver Manor, assisting me in completing a special secret art. It will grant you extraordinary talent, giving you strength, youth, and longevity comparable to that of a Knight. Regardless of whether you can help me or not, I hereby bestow upon you the surname of the House of Randell and transfer you to my personal guard.”

Caligula scratched his head, shifted his body and asked in confusion, “Master, does that mean my name is Aka Randell Randell now?”

“Yes, you’re so clever,” Victor said, exasperated.

Caligula grinned from ear to ear, showing off to those beside him. “Master said Aka is very clever.”

Macy felt a sense of guilt toward Caligula and often brought him food to make up for her past transgressions, so she refrained from laughing at him. Rogers and Red Wolf were meeting the foolish giant for the first time and weren’t familiar with him, but their psychic intuition told them this giant was incredibly powerful and could crush them with ease. Awe-struck, they were timid and withdrawn.

Narsen had no such reservations. He roared with laughter and turned to Victor. “My lord, I really like Aka and Bel.”

Nicole, Lilia, and Judy pursed their lips, hiding their smiles. Victor couldn’t help but chuckle as well. “I like them too,” he nodded. “Alright, let me show you what a Mind Warrior who has mastered an extraordinary talent looks like.”

He clapped his hands, and Reno led four Alchemical humans over from the edge of the training grounds. They all bowed in unison to Victor.

“Good day, My lord!”

Narsen’s pupils contracted, his gaze as sharp as a steel awl, fixed on one of the men. His voice was laced with excitement.

“This one is quite formidable.”

Chapter 565: The Contest

These four Alchemical humans were a level-three, a level-four, and a level-five Gryphon Militiaman, along with an Alchemical Soldier. Their Physique and Perception attributes were quite similar. Among them, the level-five militiaman’s four major attributes were: Physique 19, Spirit 15, Perception 18, and Life 3. Aside from his Spirit and Life attributes, his Physique and Perception were each a point higher than the Alchemical Soldier’s.

Because they had all been loaded with the Gryphon Combat Technique, their physical characteristics were quite similar. They were all around 1.85 meters tall, with well-proportioned, athletic builds. Their muscles were full and solid, neither overly brawny nor lean and wiry. Their features were plain, and their eyes were equally cold and apathetic, showing no trace of emotional fluctuation, much like a Knight circulating their Aura in a state of combat readiness.

Narsen instantly picked out the Alchemical Soldier from the four nearly identical Alchemical humans, a sign that his psychic intuition was growing ever sharper.

Victor was both surprised and delighted. He asked with a smile, “Narsen, you think he’s the strongest?”

Narsen nodded with a grim expression. He withdrew his gaze from the Alchemical Soldier and answered, “They’re all quite similar, but I just feel that fellow poses a greater threat to me.”

Seeing the smile vanish from Victor’s face, he scratched his head and asked in confusion, “My lord, is something wrong?”

Victor didn’t directly answer Narsen’s question. He furrowed his long, straight brows, his inquisitive gaze sweeping over the other three Ferocious warriors one by one. Macy was the first to speak. “Yes, he gives me the strongest sense of threat.” Rogers and Red Wolf nodded, indicating they felt the same.

After a moment of contemplation, Victor turned and asked, “Aka, who do you think is the better fighter?”

Caligula’s eyes widened, and his thick index finger swept back and forth across a distance equal to the training grounds, pointing between the four Alchemical humans. Seeing that everyone was looking at him, he randomly pointed at one.

He pointed at the level-three Gryphon Militiaman, the one with the lowest attributes of the four.

Victor immediately felt a wave of disappointment. The Alchemical Soldier possessed the Combat Acuity talent, which included Combat Intuition, making him something of a semi-Ferocious warrior. When Narsen had been able to pick him out, Victor had thought that he might one day be able to select Ferocious humans from among the more than one hundred eighty thousand citizens of the Randell Fief, just as Tournans had selected Macy.

It turned out to be a moment of misplaced joy.

When Narsen and the others saw the Alchemical humans, they subconsciously viewed them as potential opponents, which allowed them to sense varying degrees of threat. Caligula, on the other hand, felt no hostility toward strangers and thus had no sense of them at all. This showed just how vast the gap was between their power of the mind and that of Tournans.

Still, comparing them to the First Sacred Warrior was more than a little unfair… Besides, their power of the mind had significant room for growth. In the process of unearthing their potential, I can also observe the mysteries of the Bloodline and the mind more deeply. This is actually a good thing.

Victor quickly adjusted his mentality. Before Nicole could ask, he took the initiative to introduce the Alchemical Soldier. “His name is Manuel. He has mastered two extraordinary talents: one passive, Life Tenacity, and the other a controllable one, Active Adaptation… For certain special reasons, his success was a fluke. Our goal is to study his talents and turn this accidental success into a secret art that can be widely disseminated… Now, you will first experience his talents for yourselves.”

As he spoke, a small, dark-green whirlwind materialized out of thin air, carving a circular area thirty square meters in size on the packed-earth training grounds. His golden eyes gradually dimmed, reverting to their usual dark irises ringed with dark gold. Victor ordered the Alchemical Soldier, “Manuel, stand in the circle.”

Turning his head, Victor saw Rogers and Red Wolf, their mouths agape and eyes glazed over. He smiled faintly. His gaze skipped past an eager Narsen and settled on the tall and sturdy Macy.

“Macy, you go up and test this fellow. Tossing him out of the circle counts as a win.”

The Ferocious warrior woman had witnessed the grand scene of Victor commanding a hurricane on the riverbank battlefield, single-handedly turning back the tide of Fishmen. She was not as dumbfounded by the extraordinary phenomenon as Rogers and Red Wolf. Hearing her Master call her name, her face instantly flushed crimson—partly from excitement and elation, and partly from deliberately circulating her blood and qi to hide her shyness. Shaking her six-legged crocodile vine-hide armor, she strode toward the circle. The bones throughout her body popped and cracked; by the time she stood opposite Manuel, she had already completed her warm-up.

Victor’s peerless good looks, noble and gentle temperament, incredible extraordinary power, and prominent status could make nearly any single woman blush and her heart race under his gaze. Lilia was already accustomed to such things. She wouldn’t hold Macy’s loss of composure in front of Victor against her; she was only worried about her sworn sister’s safety.

The fellow in the circle looked tough. Even her Brother said he was a threat… Lilia nervously tugged on Victor’s sleeve and asked in a low voice, “My lord, Macy won’t be in any danger, will she?”

“Both possess astonishing power. Manuel is rather wooden and has no sense of proportion, so there will certainly be danger,” Victor said flatly.

Macy overheard their conversation. Seeing Manuel’s emotionless, apathetic eyes, her heart tightened. The hairs on her body stood on end, her pupils contracted, her knees bent slightly, and her muscles relaxed. Her breathing became deep and long, like a tigress ready to pounce and maim at any moment.

She had entered a state of combat focus, not letting her guard down just because it was a wrestling match.

Victor nodded in silent approval. He patted Lilia’s hand and raised his voice. “Macy, go all out. Don’t hold back. It doesn’t matter if you injure or kill him… Manuel, you are to get Macy out of the circle, but try not to hurt her… Begin only when I say so.”

Hearing Victor’s instructions to the two contestants, a dumbfounded Narsen exclaimed, “How is this even a contest!”

Nicole let out a soft laugh beside him. “My dear, you have so little faith in Macy? She is an exceptionally talented Ferocious warrior.”

If an Alchemical human dies, he simply returns to the Alchemy Tower. At worst, I’ll have wasted more than ten thousand Gold Sols. If Macy dies, she’s truly gone… Victor thought to himself, his expression remaining serene as he said, “I have confidence in Manuel’s strength, but not in his mind… Narsen, move closer. The moment something goes wrong, rescue Macy immediately.”

Narsen considered it. He too felt that the threat from Manuel was stronger than that from Macy. He nodded, took two steps to the edge of the circle, and waved to signal he was ready.

“Begin.”

The word had barely left his lips when Macy covered the distance to Manuel in three gliding steps. Stomping her left foot hard, her boot sank instantly into the ground. Her thigh muscles tensed, and using the push from the resulting crater, power surged through her body as she slammed her right shoulder directly into her opponent.

She had gone all out from the very start!

Though a Ferocious warrior woman, Macy possessed a keen mind that concealed a ferocious nature, like a Giant Python in a swamp—usually quiet and gentle, but erupting like a volcano in battle, catching people completely off guard. The Raging Lion Combat Technique and Gryphon Combat Technique she practiced were both personally taught by Tournans. The high-ranking Sacred Warrior of the Holy See had watched over her for four and a half years, even reshaping her body three times, all in the hope of discovering a method to help adult Ferocious humans regain the power of their Savage state and approach the state of the fire of the mind.

Now, she was just a hair’s breadth from igniting the fire of the mind. Both her external force and inner potential, as well as her power of the mind, surpassed Narsen’s from nine years ago. The force of her charging slam was immense. Forget an Alchemical Soldier weighing around one hundred kilograms; even a wild red bull weighing over a ton would be sent flying by her blow.

Narsen, who was standing by, immediately felt the pressure. Macy’s shoulder slam was not only powerful and fierce, but it also incorporated an upward lifting technique that could knock an opponent off the ground, leaving him unable to leverage any force. It was, one could say, an extremely clever move. From Macy’s performance, it was clear that Rogers and Red Wolf together would be no match for her. Her strength definitely surpassed Rogers’s, and even more so, Manuel’s. Narsen was even a little worried that the wooden Manuel, not knowing any better, would try to block Macy’s full-force blow head-on. That would only get him sent flying, with the outcome of injury or death uncertain.

However, Manuel unexpectedly did not try to block it. He suddenly hollowed his chest and cinched his waist, his feet turning as he moved like a phantom to get behind Macy.

Thump!

A muffled sound echoed through the air as Macy’s full-force shoulder charge hit nothing but empty space. Combat intuition prompted her to make the best possible choice—to lunge forward. But she had only taken half a step before she was lifted up from behind by the waist and sent flying.

“Beautiful!”

As Macy planted her palms on the ground to change her landing posture, she heard Narsen’s cheer, but knew he wasn’t complimenting her. She turned to see Manuel standing ramrod straight inside the circle, his hands at his sides, his eyes filled with the same unchanging apathy.

Nicole showed an appreciative expression and said, “Macy’s strength is far greater than Manuel’s, and their techniques are close, though Macy has a slight edge. However, her reaction speed can’t match Manuel’s, which limits the application of her strength. It’s perfectly normal for her to lose to Manuel. But in terms of potential, Macy will likely be the first to ignite the fire of the mind.”

Macy’s charge just now was perfectly coordinated, a union of mind and body, no less impressive than that of a Knight—but only for that one instant. The difference between her and a Knight was that her state of mind-body union was not continuous; after each attack, a gap would appear between her mind and body. Furthermore, her attributes were unbalanced. Her Physique was higher than her Perception, preventing her from mobilizing all of her external force and inner potential, and also making it impossible to accurately perceive her opponent’s physical and mental state.

Victor estimated Macy’s Physique was close to 20, but her Spirit was no more than 15 and her Perception no more than 13. The Alchemical Soldier, loaded with the Gryphon Combat Technique, had a full 17 points in Perception, far higher than Macy’s. His reaction speed, balance, and perceptive abilities completely overwhelmed Macy’s.

If both sides had strength that could easily overpower the other’s size and weight, a contest wouldn’t last very long. In that case, other factors would determine the winner. Macy losing this wrestling match simply proved that there was a significant gap between her Perception and Manuel’s.

This match failed to demonstrate the Alchemical Soldier’s extraordinary talents. Nicole, being more familiar with Macy, believed she had a better chance of igniting the fire of the mind.

Victor nodded and said, “Macy, whether or not you can ignite the fire of the mind, it is necessary to improve your Perception and Spirit. In this regard, I can help you.”

Macy’s dejected expression vanished, and she bowed gratefully. “Thank you, my lord.”

Victor’s gaze turned to Rogers. He smiled and said, “Rogers, you go up and try.” When Rogers had stepped into the circle, he added, “Manuel, Rogers, you will only compete in strength. The first to force the other to the ground wins. You may not use your feet to trip your opponent.”

“This, we can try… Rogers, you have a chance to beat him.” Narsen walked into the circle and clapped Rogers on his broad shoulder as encouragement. He would also serve as the referee up close, lest the two get tangled up and accidentally snap the other’s neck.

“Begin,” Victor ordered.

Rogers and Manuel’s arms instantly locked together. He was a good half-head taller than the Alchemical Soldier, with a clear advantage in both size and weight. In fact, his strength and Physique were indeed greater than Manuel’s. He now employed the force-generating techniques of the Raging Bear Combat Technique. His powerful heart pounded fiercely, inner potential driving external force, and the muscles all over his body bulged, making him seem half a size larger in an instant. The straps binding his arms snapped under the strain of his swelling muscles. He gradually overpowered Manuel, pressing him down inch by inch.

“Well done! Don’t relax, coordinate your inner potential and external force. Let the power surge out in waves,” Narsen said from the side, greatly pleased that his prized disciple had the upper hand.

Suddenly, a bluish-black sheen appeared on Manuel’s bronze skin. The hand resting on Rogers’s shoulder felt like an immovable boulder. No matter how his opponent pulled or pushed, it held fast, slowly but surely pressing his massive, bear-like body down to the ground.

A crushing display of physique and strength!

His waist was bent completely, the ground loomed larger and larger in his vision, and the腥smell of the earth filled his nostrils. Rogers had only one thought in his mind:

Am I going to lose? No! I can’t give up!

He let out a heavy breath, muscles rolling across his body, blue veins popping on his forehead. His spine let out a series of sharp cracks, but the weight on his shoulder was like an unmovable mountain, ruthlessly suppressing all his efforts.

Narsen raised a hand and pushed on Manuel’s chest plate. It didn’t seem like he used much strength, yet the Alchemical Soldier stumbled back a dozen steps, each step cracking the ground like a spiderweb, before he finally came to a stop.

“Manuel, stop.” Victor promptly halted the Alchemical Soldier from charging at Rogers again, making him stay put. He then waved over to Rogers, who was pale and trying to catch his breath.

Rogers shifted his body, snapping his displaced joints back into place. He walked over to Victor with his head hung low and knelt on one knee. Four years ago, when he had first entered Quicksilver Manor, it was Victor who had personally taught him and unveiled a more magnificent world to him. In Rogers’s mind, Victor was both his liege lord and his mentor.

He knelt before Victor like a child who had done something wrong. Caligula cheerfully extended a large hand and began to pat his head.

Rogers was annoyed, but after shaking his head several times to no avail, he couldn’t escape the Giant’s “comfort” and had no choice but to accept it.

Victor couldn’t help but smile. He nodded in praise. “That was a good performance just now. Remember to be more flexible next time. You can go much further in the future, provided you don’t die halfway… Go on, step back.”

“Thank you, my lord.” The young Rogers stood up, finally shaking off Caligula’s well-intentioned gesture.

Just then, Narsen walked over, his interest piqued. “My lord, Manuel’s increase in strength doesn’t seem like going berserk. He seems to be able to maintain that state indefinitely, without consuming inner potential or vigor…”

Nicole’s eyes sparkled as she asked, “This is the ‘Active Adaptation’ talent.”

Victor smiled without speaking. He lifted his chin toward the lone figure of Red Wolf standing opposite them and called out, “Red Wolf, Manuel, you two will compete in speed. You cannot harm each other’s bodies, and you cannot leave the circle. The first one to touch the other’s face wins… Manuel, use your full speed.”

“As you command, my lord.” The Alchemical Soldier’s black-rock-like skin quickly returned to normal. But that wasn’t all; his full muscles gradually became more compact, giving him a lean, agile look.

“How is that possible?!” Narsen exclaimed. He ran over again, circled Manuel, observing him carefully for a moment, and said with a click of his tongue, “So this is the ‘Active Adaptation’ talent… It can enhance Physique and strength, as well as Perception and agility.”

“Red Wolf, if I were you, I’d just surrender,” Narsen said to Red Wolf as he walked into the circle. He had no faith at all in the master thief who had managed to practice the Raging Ape combat technique as if it were a fox combat technique.

The difference in their physical attributes was simply too vast. What’s more, Manuel possessed a wondrous Bloodline talent, making him a true extraordinary being.

But the master thief with red hair and light-grayish-blue eyes simply said, “My lord, I’d like to try.”

“Of course you should try. Good luck, Red Wolf.” Narsen clapped him on the shoulder, let out a hearty laugh, and turned to leave the circular area.

Red Wolf was a thief. He was older than Rogers and had fought his way up from the bottom of society since childhood. It was no accident that he had been noticed and adopted by Barol. He would never pass up an opportunity to perform in front of Victor; in fact, he was an expert at creating opportunities. His eyes darted about, looking at the Alchemical Soldier’s face one moment and his hands the next, but the corners of his eyes were always glancing at his opponent’s boots.

There was, of course, nothing wrong with Manuel’s boots. This was just Red Wolf’s psychological warfare.

Unfortunately, he was casting a flirtatious wink at a blind man.

“Begin.”

At Victor’s command, Manuel shot toward Red Wolf like an arrow loosed from a bow. Red Wolf’s reaction was even more brilliant; he flung a handful of dirt at Manuel’s face, which he must have scooped up from the ground at some point. Just as everyone thought he would take the opportunity to touch Manuel’s face, he turned and ran.

One fled, the other pursued, and they began to run in circles around the training grounds. Both were as swift as lightning, their speed so fast it was dazzling, but Manuel was clearly stronger than Red Wolf. Yet, Red Wolf was as slippery as an eel. It was as if he had eyes on the back of his head, dodging Manuel’s grabs for his shoulder in the nick of time again and again. By constantly changing direction, he never let Manuel succeed.

Nicole nodded in praise. “Red Wolf is very clever, exploiting Manuel’s wooden, inflexible weakness… Manuel is clearly proficient in the Gryphon and Gray Wolf Combat Techniques. Both of these techniques, pioneered by Tournans, emphasize the gliding step, where both feet never leave the ground at the same time. While a gliding step allows for quick changes in direction to dodge, this is a game, not a life-or-death duel… Manuel’s continued use of the gliding step is limiting his own speed. Red Wolf also insists on keeping his back to him, forcing Manuel to make two moves to touch his face. First, he has to catch Red Wolf… This move stimulates Red Wolf’s Combat Intuition, allowing him to accurately dodge Manuel’s hand every time.”

“…However,” Nicole’s tone shifted, and she smiled. “Manuel has no intent to harm, so the stimulation to Red Wolf’s Combat Intuition isn’t strong enough. He’s bound to make a mistake eventually. Plus, his stamina is clearly inferior to Manuel’s. Red Wolf is bound to lose.”

Victor coughed lightly and said with a smile, “Red Wolf is actually a thief. If he were caught often, he would have died a hundred times over by now… Of course, his stamina is indeed no match for Manuel’s, but he can still hop around for a few hours. I, however, believe they will have a winner soon, and the outcome is anything but certain.”

Nicole focused her gaze on the field and also noticed something suspicious. A smile graced her lips as she nodded and said, “I see.”

Sure enough, Red Wolf had a moment of carelessness and was grabbed on the shoulder by Manuel. But as he turned, he slapped Manuel across the face with a crisp “smack!” and then, letting out a strange cry, he hopped and skipped out of the circle. He looked at Manuel, who was still standing in the same spot, with fear and unease. Seeing that the other man wasn’t angry, merely staring back at him with an apathetic expression, a chill ran down his spine. He regretted hitting so hard just now. But if he hadn’t used that much force, how could he have touched the other’s face first?

Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!

Red Wolf slapped himself hard four times and said with an obsequious smile, “My apologies, my apologies. I was too hasty just now and offended Your Excellency.”

“You won… The Master did not command the winner to slap his own face. Why are you hitting yourself?” Manuel asked in confusion, looking at his opponent’s swollen cheeks as he pulled his own right foot out of a pit in the ground.

It was the pit Macy had made earlier when she stomped for leverage. Red Wolf had led him around this little pit for eleven laps, and had finally lured him into it.

“Brilliant!”

Victor stepped forward from the crowd and said with a smile to the swollen-faced Red Wolf, “Your performance was absolutely brilliant… Don’t worry, Manuel will not retaliate.”

Red Wolf hurried over, knelt on one knee, and said fawningly, “It is all due to my lord’s excellent guidance.”

“Haha, this is not something I taught.”

Victor laughed heartily, reaching out to pull Red Wolf up from the ground. He turned to the others and said, “Wisdom is also a form of power. It can be used to seek survival in death, to defeat the strong as the weak. But the prerequisite for using the power of wisdom is the power of will—the will to not be afraid, to not admit defeat… I believe none of you lack wisdom and will. At the same time, I must also tell you that in the face of absolute power, wisdom and will alone are not enough!”

“Caligula, go and throw Manuel out of the circle. Manuel, do your best to evade him.”

A silly grin appeared on Aka’s face. He strode into the circle and, with a sudden pounce, seized the Alchemical Soldier with 21 points of Perception.

Macy, Rogers, and Red Wolf were utterly dumbfounded. They couldn’t follow the details of Caligula’s movements at all. Open-mouthed, they simply watched as he lifted the powerful Manuel out of the circle.

Chapter 566: The Tenacity Talent

Macy, Rogers, and Red Wolf, the three Ferocious Warriors, as well as Lilia and Charlotte, found it impossible to accept that His Highness Randall’s Mind Warrior was utterly helpless against the big guy. They even suspected Manuel had let Caligula catch him on purpose.

This was because their level was too low, and they couldn’t comprehend the big guy’s current level of mastery.

Caligula had not only ignited the fire of the mind, but had also touched upon the Touch of the Mind. Although he wasn’t like Tournans, who could twist the minds of others, he could sense his opponent’s intentions. The moment Manuel’s feet moved, Caligula knew where he was going to run. They were only twelve meters apart, and the Alchemical Soldier still tried to use a gliding step right in front of him; with a single pounce, Caligula seized him.

Macy and the others couldn’t see how clever the timing and direction of his pounce were at all. They only felt as if an invisible string was pulling Caligula and Manuel together.

The big guy gently tossed Manuel outside the circle, his bull-like eyes narrowing into gleeful slits. He squatted down and invited, “Want to play again? Just one more time… You can try to catch Aka, too.”

Seeing Manuel’s stony-faced silence, Caligula turned and pleaded with Victor, “Master, Aka still wants to play with Manuel.”

Narsen walked into the circle and beckoned to Caligula. “Aka, I’ll play with you. You come and catch me.”

Caligula was overjoyed. He cheerfully walked into the circle and stopped fifteen meters from Narsen, saying with good-natured honesty, “I’ll stand a bit farther from Narsen, so it’s easier for Narsen to run.”

“Alright, come and get me.” Narsen crooked a finger, but his feet didn’t move an inch.

“Here I come.”

Caligula took a stride that covered seven or eight meters, but he suddenly saw Narsen’s gaze, like a steel awl, piercing his stomach. Fear welled up inside him. His knees straightened from their bent position, and his huge body turned its advance to retreat. The motion of shooting backward was as swift as the wind and as smooth as flowing water, a beautiful sight to behold. It was just that his flustered, terrified expression was utterly comical.

In an instant, he shrank behind Victor. Caligula, finally feeling safe, clutched his stomach and hollered, “Master, Narsen wants to hit Aka! Narsen wants to hit Aka!” After a pause, he turned to Narsen and asked, “Why did you want to hit Aka’s stomach?”

“Sorry, I was just trying to scare you. I wasn’t really going to hit you,” Narsen said with a shrug, his face full of apology.

“Narsen really won’t hit Aka?” Caligula asked, his face full of suspicion, but he lowered the hands protecting his stomach.

“When have I ever hit you? I was really just scaring you, teasing you.” Narsen scratched his head with a wry smile. To placate Caligula, the famous Bear of the Northlands was acting quite foolish himself. Rogers and the others were snickering. If His Highness hadn’t been present, they probably would have been squealing like pigs.

Caligula scratched his head and thought for a moment. Realizing Narsen had indeed never hit him, he finally stood up straight and grinned. “Narsen has never hit Aka, so don’t scare Aka again… Master will punish Narsen, and Aka won’t play with Narsen anymore.”

Who wants to play with you… Narsen complained internally, then turned to Victor and said, “My lord, what I want to say is, this game is unfair to Manuel.”

“Manuel may be wooden, but he is a Mind Warrior. A game isn’t enough to show his true strength. If he knew how to be flexible and play the game, dealing with Caligula like I did, Caligula could never have caught him, and Red Wolf couldn’t have beaten him either.”

Glancing appreciatively at the expressionless Alchemical Soldier who stood ramrod straight, Narsen pleaded with Victor, “My lord, please allow me and Manuel to have a true hand-to-hand fight, as warriors!”

If Manuel were a true human, and Narsen was willing to vouch for him, Victor would have gladly given him a push. But the main purpose of this test was to encourage Macy, Rogers, and Red Wolf, to have them decide the Research Direction of the Mind Bloodline secret art from within their own hearts.

Victor knew from personal experience that only by embracing oneself could one awaken the potential of their Bloodline; hesitation and uncertainty would only cause the Bloodline to lie dormant. And the principle of the Mind Bloodline secret art was to use the subjective power of the mind to push for the awakening of the Bloodline Law. The mental powers of Macy and the others were far stronger than those of ordinary people. Their desire to obtain the Alchemical Soldiers’ Bloodline talents might be the necessary prerequisite for the Mind Bloodline secret art to evolve from its low-level, singular form to a high-level, diverse one.

To this end, Victor did not hesitate to reveal the special existence of the Alchemical humans to them.

“You also know Manuel is rigid and wooden. How could he distinguish the line between a spar and a real fight?”

Victor asked, “Narsen, with Manuel’s strength, if he were to attack you with all his might, could you handle him with ease? Back then, Tournans invited you to attack him with your full power, then defeated you in an instant. He was wary of your lethality and didn’t let you fully display your martial prowess at all. Manuel isn’t much weaker than you were back then. If you fight him without using a suppressive strategy to end it quickly, how will you control the situation?”

“This…”

“Manuel’s use of the Active Adaptation talent has a time limit. Once he can activate the talent again, I’ll have…” Victor smiled and cast his gaze behind him.

Everyone’s eyes followed his gaze, focusing on the exquisitely beautiful Charlotte.

“…Me?” Charlotte’s emerald green eyes gazed at Victor, a pleading look in them, as she stammered, “Your Highness, I’m afraid I’m no match for Manuel.”

Seeing Victor’s favored mistress with such a heart-wrenching, beautiful look, Nicole’s heart soured with jealousy. Her eyes flickered slightly as she took the initiative to say, “Manuel’s previously displayed strength and speed do indeed surpass Charlotte’s. Let me be the one to test him.”

“No need, let Charlotte go.” Victor shook his head with a smile, gently squeezing Nicole’s slender hand. He then turned to his Sworn Knight and said, “Don’t be afraid of losing face. Follow Macy’s sparring rules, go all out, and knock Manuel out of the circle to win. I will personally be right here to ensure your safety.”

A sweetness bloomed in Charlotte’s heart. The corners of her lips curved up, and she bowed, saying, “As you wish, my beloved Master.”

After speaking, she put on her Dragon-Lizard leather gauntlets and gracefully followed Victor into the circle. After a while, Victor, having calculated the cooldown time for the Active Adaptation talent, instructed the Alchemical Soldier, “Manuel, return to your initial state of balance. Spar with Knight Charlotte according to the rules of the first match.”

“As you command, My lord.”

The Alchemical Soldier’s taut muscles swelled once more, his lean frame returning to its robust, well-proportioned state. He stepped steadily into the circle and stood facing Charlotte, ten meters apart. His sturdy, 1.87-meter frame was a good half-head taller than Charlotte in her women’s combat boots with half-heels. Paired with his cold gaze, he naturally exuded an air of iron-blooded ruthlessness, which only served to further accentuate Charlotte’s slender, delicate beauty.

“Begin.”

Manuel used a gliding step to shoot forward, arriving in front of the female knight in the blink of an eye, his arm simultaneously reaching for her shoulder. Charlotte didn’t adopt an offensive strategy like Macy. She waited until the Alchemical Soldier’s fingers brushed the pauldron of her leather armor, then suddenly shot out a slender foot to hook the back of Manuel’s knee. The force she unleashed was several hundred pounds, but it wasn’t enough to trip Manuel, whose Physique was at eighteen points. The Alchemical Soldier tensed his right leg to neutralize the female knight’s force, his body remaining as firm as a mountain, but the movement of his hand inevitably faltered for a moment. Using the force from his tensed leg, Charlotte closed the distance, raising her knee to strike his hip. The force was still not great, but it was enough to break his center of gravity.

At this moment, the Alchemical Soldier’s high Perception attribute of seventeen points came into play. He took half a step back and regained his balance, but it was already too late. Under Charlotte’s continuous attacks, Manuel was constantly adjusting his center of gravity, with no chance to fight back. Finally, Charlotte seized an opening as he was applying force.

She delivered an elbow strike that knocked Manuel’s feet off the ground, followed immediately by a standard thrusting straight punch. In that instant, she unleashed over two tons of force, landing a heavy blow on Manuel’s side. The Vine-hide armor on the Alchemical Soldier couldn’t withstand such a violent strike. With a dull thump, half of the armor shattered into pieces, and Manuel was sent flying sideways like a cannonball for over twenty meters, landing on the martial arts arena floor outside the circle.

“Ah!” Seeing the trouble she’d caused, Charlotte clapped a hand over her mouth, letting out a half-stifled shriek. Tears welled in her beautiful eyes as she looked at Victor, helpless and confused, wondering why he had let her beat Manuel to death.

Narsen was the first to run to Manuel, only to see him get up from the ground as if nothing had happened. The area on his ribs where the leather armor had shattered showed no sign of even a fracture or collapse. Dumbfounded, he yelled:

“You’re fine after that? You should at least be coughing up some blood, right? Are you an Ogre in disguise?”

Charlotte had a frail disposition, her desire to be Victor’s pet stronger than her desire to be a Sworn Knight. But she was a Knight, after all. As long as she circulated her Aura, she could control her emotions and distracting thoughts to fully unleash her power, becoming a standard fighting machine. The Alchemical Soldier’s Elemental Attributes had already surpassed that of an initial-rank Knight, but they were still a little lacking compared to a Knight who had ignited the fire of the mind.

In close-quarters combat, the line between life and death, victory and defeat, is paper-thin. A small gap is a world of difference.

A Ferocious Warrior’s Combat Intuition is a form of the mind’s predictive power, but it can’t compare to the state of having ignited the fire of the mind. The two times Narsen clashed with the knights of the Briatte family, he relied on his tough Thorium Ant-man armor to take their attacks head-on and then counter-kill them. Otherwise, he would have died by their swords long ago. It wasn’t until he ignited the fire of the mind that he truly possessed the strength to face a Knight. His Combat Intuition, combined with the fire of the mind, was the foundation of his firm standing at the Silver-rank.

Alchemical Soldiers with their fixed templates couldn’t possibly ignite the fire of the mind, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t deal with Knights. Relying on their Vital Tenacity talent, they could fight to the death and even counter-kill an initial-rank Knight. In fact, Alchemical humans, fearless of death and possessing Knight-level physiques, could swarm and kill any Knight below the peak of Silver-rank if they attacked together. From this perspective, the expensive Alchemical Soldiers were far less practical than level-three Alchemical militia. But their talents held immense reference value.

Victor clapped his hands, calling over the crowd that had gathered around Manuel, clucking their tongues in amazement. He said with a smile, “Knights are inherently noble. The secret to their power lies in perfect balance and the fire of the mind. Even for me, my Strength, Perception, and Spirit are only approaching a state of perfect balance; they cannot achieve true perfect balance. Needless to say, it’s even more impossible for ordinary people.”

Nicole pursed her lips in a demure smile and said, “A Knight’s perfect balance is the balance of the four major elements. In this state, when we simultaneously ignite the fire of the mind, not only can we control our bodies with minute precision, but we can also grasp the changes in an opponent’s force through contact, seize openings in their exertion, and deliver devastating blows. This is why, even though Charlotte’s Strength, Perception, and even Spirit are inferior to Manuel’s, she could still beat him so he couldn’t fight back. If Manuel had also ignited the fire of the mind, making the flow of his power flawless, Charlotte would have been no match for him.”

Victor nodded and continued, “Perfect balance is hopeless for you all, but igniting the fire of the mind is still possible. Among the people I know, besides Narsen and Caligula, Priest Kent, stationed in Raven Town, has also ignited the fire of the mind. He wasn’t originally a Ferocious human, just an ordinary person.” His tone shifted as he added, “However, I have never heard of anyone igniting the fire of the mind just by practicing combat techniques.”

“Narsen, like Priest Kent, is a battle-hardened veteran with multiple near-death experiences. He ignited the fire of the mind after having his body reforged once. As for Aka… this fellow has Macy to thank. She beat him to the brink of death, which gave him the opportunity to ignite the fire of the mind,” Victor said, pointing at Caligula with a laugh.

Macy lowered her head in shame, sneaking a glance at Caligula’s smugly grinning face, then heard Victor continue.

“If one must go through a Trial of Life and Death to ignite the fire of the mind, then what’s the point? Who can guarantee they’ll be the lucky one?”

Rogers’s eyes lit up. “My lord, I am willing to undergo a test of life and death to ignite the fire of the mind.”

Red Wolf disagreed with him. He turned his head and said, “Hey, buddy. The Esteemed Master’s point is that you ignite the fire of the mind to win in battle. If you’re already dead, what’s the use of igniting the fire of the mind?”

The young mountain folk hunter said stubbornly, “Sometimes, we have to fight!”

“You’re both right… Only by surviving in battle do you get the chance to ignite the fire of the mind. So how do you increase your chances of survival? Only by increasing your own strength.” Victor nodded, his gaze shifting to the Alchemical Soldier. He said, “Manuel’s physical toughness is comparable to an Ogre’s. Even a full-power attack from Knight Charlotte couldn’t seriously injure him. That is his Vital Tenacity talent!”

“Igniting the fire of the mind relies on luck, but every one of you can master the Vital Tenacity talent.”

Chapter 567: The Talent Tree

”

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In truth, every Ferocious Warrior possessed the characteristic of vital tenacity. Take Narsen, for example. His body was like steel, his life force exceptionally powerful. A backward fall onto rocks from a height of under 20 meters would, at most, leave him briefly stunned with a split scalp and blood covering his face; it would never result in torn ligaments, broken bones, or serious injuries. If he were to take a direct heavy blow from an initial-rank Knight, as Manuel had, he wouldn’t be seriously harmed either.

”

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However, Narsen’s Physique attribute was over 20, already an inhuman figure. Manuel’s Physique was only 18; although far superior to an ordinary person, it had not yet reached the standard of the extraordinary. The earth element concentration within an Alchemical Soldier is not as high as Narsen’s, yet his bone strength, physical endurance, and ability to withstand blows were on par, his self-healing ability was even better, and he possessed an Elemental Resistance that Narsen lacked.

”

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When all these factors were considered together, the difference between the two was stark. Narsen had the characteristic of vital tenacity, whereas Manuel’s vital tenacity was a Bloodline talent in the truest sense.

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Victor believed this Vital Tenacity talent could be replicated, and that its significance was extraordinary.

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The Alchemy Tower could not transcend the limitations of the Law of Creation; otherwise, the ancient Alchemical Empire would have been invincible, not destined to vanish into the river of history. Since the Alchemical Soldiers used a human template, their extraordinary talents must have originated from the Bloodline Law of humans. Furthermore, Victor had personally verified the Vital Tenacity Bloodline talent. When he was hunting the Gnoll Windfang, he was once gravely injured and relied on the Silent Void and Surge talent to rapidly recover, awakening his own Vital Tenacity talent. This enabled him to withstand severe damage, resist disintegrating toxins, stanch bleeding, heal wounds quickly, and even regenerate limbs with a Regeneration Potion, without needing a priest’s divine arts.

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Victor named it “Healing.” It stemmed from the common ground between the human bloodline and the Moon Elf Bloodline Laws, and it fell under the category of Vital Tenacity talents.

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Because the Healing talent involved the Moon Elf’s Surge talent, it was impossible for ordinary people to replicate. The Alchemical Soldier’s Vital Tenacity talent, however, was based entirely on the human Bloodline Law, possessing very broad common ground. Not only was it achievable, but it was also incredibly valuable, capable of greatly improving a Mind Warrior’s physical fitness, survivability, and adaptability to their environment.

”

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The question now was how to reverse-engineer the principles of the Alchemical Soldier’s Vital Tenacity talent and transform it into a practical application of the Mind Bloodline secret art that could be popularized among the general population.

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In the process of studying this problem, Victor gained a clearer understanding of the principles of the Mind Bloodline secret art, almost grasping the development path for Mind Warriors.

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The Radiant Church had its own set of theories regarding a person’s external force, inner potential, and the power of the mind. According to Tournans, a person’s inner potential included aspects like growth, self-healing, breathing, heartbeat, and organ function, all of which were a-la-carte and closely related to one’s external force. If a person’s external force existed above the water’s surface, then their inner potential was hidden beneath it. It was, in fact, one and the same with external force, only far vaster and normally difficult to mobilize. When a person’s power of the mind could mobilize this inner potential to drive their external force, gradually unifying external force, inner potential, and the power of the mind, he was not far from igniting the fire of the mind.

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The Wizard Tofwen of Aerie Fortress had elucidated the essence of inner potential from the perspective of bloodlines. His research was more meticulous, using potions to activate the human Bloodline Law, allowing ordinary people to possess a powerful Physique comparable to that of a Ferocious Warrior.

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The Church’s theory of inner potential and the Wizard’s bloodline theory were, in fact, two sides of the same coin. Yet neither had managed to achieve active application of this inner potential. The life forms of Sacred Warriors, Mystic Warriors, and Ferocious Warriors were not fundamentally different from those of ordinary people.

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How could inner potential and Bloodline Laws that one cannot master be called a talent?

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Therefore, Narsen was merely strong, while Manuel’s Vital Tenacity was a true Bloodline talent.

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The Alchemy Tower systematically combined principles from the human bloodline—such as endurance, tolerance for hunger and thirst, bone and muscle toughness, organ damage resistance, self-healing, and resilience—to create the Alchemical Soldier’s Vital Tenacity talent. This was precisely the goal pursued by the Mind Bloodline secret art.

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Based on his own experiences and the Alchemical Soldier’s talents, Victor established two important principles for cultivating Mind Warriors.

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First, the mind dominates the Bloodline Law; desire determines the bloodline talent.

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Over a year ago, it was under the intense desire to recover from his injuries that Victor had acquired the Healing talent. At that time, he had not yet obtained the Wizard Tofwen’s map of the human Bloodline Law. It was entirely out of his own urgent need that he naturally stimulated the common principles of vital tenacity within the human and Moon Elf bloodlines, combining them into His Highness Randell’s Healing talent.

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This led to the second principle: differences in personality lead to different bloodline talents.

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Rogers loved Narsen’s Raging Bear Combat Technique and practiced it with great flair. Red Wolf, being cunning and cautious by nature, was fundamentally at odds with the ferocity of the Raging Ape combat technique and had stubbornly trained it into a “Fox combat technique.” If a Mind Warrior inwardly rejected a certain bloodline talent, he could never activate the corresponding Bloodline Law. By the same token, if a Mind Warrior’s bloodline talent was in harmony with his own disposition, he could reach greater heights and possess his own extraordinary talent—perhaps berserk, perhaps Bloodlust, perhaps Active Adaptation, or perhaps some other type of extraordinary talent. In any case, it would not be a one-size-fits-all approach. But their starting point would invariably be their own unique Vital Tenacity talent.

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These two principles pointed the way for the development of the Mind Bloodline secret art, marking the transition of Mind Warriors from low-rank to high-rank. The hundreds of variations in the human bloodline signified the infinite possibilities for Mind Warriors.

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Simply put, the Mind Bloodline secret art is like a talent point system; Mind Warriors construct their own talent tree by combining various Bloodline Laws.

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Theory was one thing, practice another. Victor himself was crossing the river by feeling the stones. He had no clear idea about the subsequent developments of the Source Blood Secret Art, nor could he. Mind Warriors were on a path of specialization; even with ten X-3s, he couldn’t possibly oversee the growth of every single Mind Warrior.

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Tampering with the mind and Bloodline Law would inevitably lead to mistakes. Death, injury, disability, insanity, and idiocy were sure to be plentiful.

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The throne of the Mind Warriors was destined to be forged from the bones of martyrs.

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Victor explained the pros and cons to the five Ferocious Warriors and gave them two choices. The first was to forge their own path, which came with the risk of death or injury, but offered the chance to become a high-rank Mind Warrior with their own talent tree, tantamount to creating a new school of secret arts. The second was to wait for others to scout the path first and then practice according to their methods; due to differences in personality, they would be limited to low or mid-rank Mind Warriors, with at most one or two talents, or perhaps none at all.

”

”

Not one of the five backed down; all expressed their willingness to take the risk.

”

”

It was to be expected. Any Ferocious Human with a cowardly disposition would have long since faded into obscurity and would never have appeared at Quicksilver Manor. As for Caligula… he would do whatever Victor said. He was desireless anyway and would just follow the others’ practices, incurring no risk. However, Victor had a gut feeling that the muddle-headed Caligula would be a match for any type of Mind Bloodline secret art.

”

”

Four trailblazers were too few. Victor needed more subjects for observation.

”

”

Fortunately, his sphere of influence extended beyond just the Randall family.

”

”

Ten days later, Victor took Narsen to Rose Manor in Goldwater City. Trisley’s carriage was already packed and ready to depart for Blinor City.

”

”

Victor first saw Trisley off, then hurried back to Rose Manor for a detailed discussion with Sylvia.

”

”

In a small sitting room at Rose Manor, Sylvia wore a pristine white Spider silk long dress, her golden hair lightly pinned up. She sat sideways in a wicker chair with her legs crossed, looking languid, at ease, and utterly charming. Seeing Victor enter, she rose gracefully, her slender foot tapped lightly on the polished floor, and she floated into her lover’s arms. Her elegantly sculpted arms rested on his shoulders as she said with a charming laugh, “My love, you’re finally back… I asked you to see Trisley off, and you were gone for six days. I was starting to think Trisley had abducted you and taken you straight to Blinor City.”

”

”

Placing a light kiss on her slightly pouting red lips, Victor wrapped an arm around Sylvia’s soft waist, led her to the sofa to sit, and explained, “I escorted them all the way to Redleaf Town, then rushed back alone.”

”

”

Sylvia smiled, reaching for a ceramic pot on the coffee table to pour him a cup of Cherre tea. Tilting her head, she asked playfully, “Did you rush back because you missed me, or because you were worried about your Mind Warrior, Manuel?”

”

”

Regarding the Alchemy Tower, Victor had always faced two choices: should he be conservative and follow a predetermined path, accepting unknown risks? Or should he decipher its secrets, converting its power into another, controllable form, giving himself more agency?

”

”

It was like being on a great ship sailing into an unknown future: would you rather be a passenger, or the captain at the helm?

”

”

Any normal person would choose to be the one at the helm, and Victor was no exception. Although any choice he made could lead him into a trap of fate, he could only follow his true self.

”

”

The answer to this multiple-choice question was not about which option to pick, but whether Victor had the ability to secure his own interests and avoid becoming a puppet manipulated by external forces.

”

”

Viscount Randell had lacked this strength, so he had carefully concealed the identity of the Alchemical Humans by exploiting blind spots in common knowledge. By the time the York family’s monitoring system discovered the peculiarities of the Alchemical Humans, it was several years later. Moreover, they were ignorant of the truth and had automatically concocted a non-existent Wizard. By then, Victor had transformed from Viscount Randell to His Highness Randell, his power concentrated in himself, and he possessed a Gold Bloodline. Most importantly, Father Miller had been supporting him, both overtly and covertly, in taking the helm himself.

”

”

Without Miller’s hints, he would not have found the path to becoming Legendary so quickly. If the God-favored of the Lord of Radiance had wanted to make a move against him, they would have done so long ago, not waited until now.

”

”

If Miller represented the pinnacle of the Church’s power, then Sylvia was the symbol of the Extraordinary Knights. Victor could neither side with the Church nor the secular lords; he had to maintain a balance in the middle, so that the clergy and the Knight-Nobles wouldn’t come to blows over the Alchemy Tower.

”

”

Since old Miller likely already knew of the Alchemy Tower’s existence, there was no need for Victor to continue hiding the existence of the Alchemical Humans from his intimate lover. In fact, Sylvia had been playing dumb all along, secretly suppressing all criticism of Victor from within the Centaur Hills. Now, Victor was her equal, and continuing to hide it from her would cause problems.

”

”

Of course, the Alchemy Tower could not be revealed just yet. Victor had only brought Manuel to Rose Manor and introduced him to Sylvia, vaguely stating that he was a Mind Warrior cultivated through special means. Although Sylvia didn’t press for details, Victor could tell she was very happy.

”

”

However, when Victor proposed sending Manuel to Aerie Fortress for the Wizard Tofwen to perform bloodline tests and discover the method of combining bloodline talents, Sylvia objected. She insisted that the potion-makers at Rose Manor first conduct some of their own tests on him.

”

”

Taking a sip of the Cherre tea, Victor set the cup down and said with a smile, “Of course I missed my lover. In my eyes, a hundred Manuels combined are not worth a single strand of your hair… By the way, how did the tests go?”

”

”

Sylvia shot him a look that was part feigned anger, part delight, and nodded. “Manuel’s reaction to the berserk potion produced two completely opposite results. In one case, the potion had no effect; in the other, the berserk effect was enhanced. This is because he followed my instructions to use his Active Adaptation talent to increase his fire elemental resistance and water elemental resistance, respectively, which produced different outcomes.”

”

”

“The elemental fluctuations from his Active Adaptation talent are extremely subtle, but they couldn’t escape my spiritual perception. When he increases his fire elemental resistance, the water element becomes more active. Since the berserk potion is fire-aspected, the active water element neutralized its toxicity, rendering it ineffective. At the same time, his healing ability was enhanced, his body became more resistant to high temperatures, and his stamina recovered faster. When he increases his water elemental resistance, his spirit becomes more active, he gains cold resistance, and his burst power and combat intuition are strengthened, which enhances the effect of the berserk potion. When he increases his earth elemental resistance, the wind element becomes active, improving his balance and reaction speed, but reducing his muscle strength. When he increases his wind elemental resistance, the earth element becomes active, greatly increasing his strength and making his physique more solid, but at the cost of agility and speed. Normally, he slightly increases his fire elemental resistance to conserve stamina, which makes him seem slow-witted. In battle, he primarily raises his water elemental resistance to increase his spiritual strength and unleash greater combat power.”

”

”

“My love, your hypothesis was completely correct. Manuel’s Vital Tenacity talent is the foundation for the Active Adaptation talent. All Mind Warriors should first master a Vital Tenacity talent as the starting point for advancing to intermediate and high ranks.” Sylvia looked at Victor with a look full of tender affection, her azure eyes filled with admiration and approval.

”

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Victor pumped his fist, his expression exultant.

”

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“I knew it! The berserk potion and Bloodboil Potion work on humans because humans have bloodline laws for being berserk and for Bloodlust. Their side effects are so pronounced because the soldiers lack the foundation to withstand the changes from the Bloodline Law. My love, just imagine: if a warrior masters the Vital Tenacity talent that supports a berserk state, the effect of a berserk potion on him will be doubled, while the negative effects will be reduced, preventing internal bleeding, brain damage, and the complete loss of combat ability. If he advances from a low-rank to a mid-rank and directly masters the berserk talent, he won’t even need the berserk potion anymore.”

”

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Feeling the joy in her lover’s heart, Sylvia said with a beaming smile, “My love, I have already given the order to summon Ferocious Warriors from all the families to gather at the secret fortress on the shores of Lontales Lake. A total of eighty-four. However, I can’t be sure exactly how many will come. Your Mind Bloodline secret art experiment carries a certain risk. Although I won’t state it plainly to the families, a necessary warning is indispensable.”

”

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“My vassal’s vassal is not my vassal.” Victor nodded, showing he understood Sylvia’s predicament. He then said, “Besides Ferocious Warriors, I also need some senior apprentice knights who have no hope of advancement. A Knight with perfect balance cannot master a bloodline talent, but an apprentice knight can. If they gain their own Mind Bloodline talent, they will have a chance to ignite the fire of the mind in the future, making them a match for an mid-rank Knight.”

”

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Sylvia’s eyes lit up. She covered her mouth and chuckled, “I’ll arrange it. Although practicing the Mind Bloodline secret art is risky, I don’t think any apprentice knight would pass up the chance to increase their power and level of life…”

”

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Victor said pensively, “The Mind Bloodline secret art is a vast, uncharted territory. Risk and opportunity coexist, but they are not necessarily proportional. Those who pay a great price may not reap a bountiful reward… I think it’s necessary to cooperate with Aerie Fortress. Joint research can not only reduce the risks but also increase efficiency. For now, I call the different talent trees of Mind Warriors a ‘category.’ Manuel’s Active Adaptation talent is the only known category so far. Its potential might not be huge, but it’s very practical and traceable. In the process of exploring it, we can accumulate a wealth of experience and lower the risk of creating other categories.”

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Sylvia’s eyes half-closed. She toyed with a silver spoon, gently stirring the coffee before her, and pouted, “Then we’ll just study the Active Adaptation talent first. The family has excellent potion-makers anyway.” She was clearly unwilling to collaborate with Aerie Fortress on researching the Mind Bloodline secret art.

”

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Victor didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

”

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“My love, the Source Blood Secret Art I created is arguably the best combat technique secret art today. The Level 1 Source Blood Secret Art can increase an ordinary soldier’s physical attributes to twice that of a normal person. The Level 2 Source Blood Secret Art gives a warrior a chance to triple their physical attributes; this is the technique I’ve prepared for the elite Rangers. But the Level 3 Source Blood Secret Art for cultivating Mind Warriors is still incomplete. It lacks the support of a Potion-making system… The Forging Method for Mind Warriors is a combination of static Stance practice, visualization, dynamic Stance practice, a breathing method, and a meditation method. It is a system, not a simple pile-up of various methods. The potions that complement the Mind Warrior’s Forging Method must also be a system. For example, will a potion that strengthens a Mind Warrior’s bones conflict with one that enhances organ function? I believe our family’s potion-makers can figure out a Potion-making system, but I am even more certain that they will make mistakes in the process… and the people participating in the experiment will pay the price! How many Ferocious Warriors and apprentice knights can we afford to sacrifice?”

”

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Sylvia said dismissively, “We’ll experiment on death row inmates first. If that’s not enough, don’t you have over twenty thousand mountain folk under your command? Just grab some disobedient ones… What I’d rather see is ordinary soldiers being able to master a bloodline talent. Even if it’s only Vital Tenacity, that would be a good thing! Besides, you have a long lifespan and a rare wisdom talent. You have all of the Wizard Tofwen’s manuscripts. If you study Potion-making, your future achievements will surely surpass his.”

”

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Victor gave a wry smile. “My love, do you have that much faith in me?”

”

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Sylvia’s gaze was like rippling water. Leaning against Victor’s shoulder, she blew a fragrant breath into his ear and giggled. “First, admit that you have a Wizard in your service.”

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Victor admitted it frankly. “I admit it. But I must keep my promise not to reveal his identity to anyone.”

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Isn’t Imosen a Wizard? This is definitely not a lie, just a bit of misdirection… Victor mused inwardly, only to hear Sylvia say:

”

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“I’m already very satisfied that you’ve been honest with me… Your Wizard can turn ordinary people into Mystic Warriors and Mind Warriors, yet you can decipher the mysteries of his Wizardry and create the theory of the Mind Bloodline secret art. Why can’t you surpass Tofwen and become a master of Potion-making?”

”

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Victor shook his head. “The Wizard Tofwen doesn’t have much time left. He can perceive changes in the human bloodline, but I don’t have that ability. Even so, his achievements in Potion-making were built on a mountain of bones and cost millions of Gold Sols. Even if I spend my energy studying his manuscripts, how much money do we have to pour into the massive hole that is the Mind Warrior Potion-making system?”

”

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Sylvia was suddenly at a loss for words, leaning unhappily against Victor’s shoulder.

”

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Victor continued, “My love, you have extraordinary magnanimity and are broad-minded. Why bother yourself over sharing the research of the Mind Bloodline secret art with Aerie Fortress? As you said, we have long lives. If we use the ladder Aerie Fortress has built, why would we fear falling behind them?”

”

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“I am first and foremost the wife of His Highness Randell. As your woman, I’m being petty. Is there a problem with that?” Sylvia puffed out her impressive chest and said righteously.

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This time, it was Victor’s turn to be speechless.

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Sylvia sighed and shook her head. “My love, it’s not that we can’t cooperate with Aerie Fortress, but Manuel must not come into contact with Tofwen!”

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Greatly surprised, Victor pressed, “Why?”

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Sylvia lifted her silver cup, took a sip of coffee, and said with a frown, “I have a feeling… Manuel is not a normal human.” She paused, her brow smoothing as her expression turned serene.

”

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“The real reason is… the God-favored.”

Chapter 568: Sylvia’s Caution

“Miller?”

Victor wasn’t surprised that Sylvia’s mental power could scan the special condition of the Alchemical Soldiers, but he hadn’t expected her to shift the problem onto Miller.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, then smiled. “Miller does indeed possess world-shaking divine power, but he almost never involves himself in the church affairs of the Randell Diocese, nor does he interfere in the internal affairs of the House of Randell. In fact, his attitude toward Wizards is also quite lenient…”

“Of course he’s lenient. If he weren’t, that Wizard you’re harboring would have already been Purified by him.” Sylvia gave him a placid look and changed the subject. “Why is Father Miller especially lenient toward the Wizard by your side? I’m sure you have an answer to that question in your heart.”

Victor’s gaze sharpened. He fell silent for two seconds, then nodded. “I do have my suspicions, and they’ve made me anxious. I’d like to hear your opinion first.”

Sylvia smiled faintly, took Victor’s hand, and intertwined their fingers. She spoke slowly, “It’s not unusual for the great families to harbor Wizards. Aerie Fortress secretly trained Tofwen, and in the last few decades, the August family’s strength has grown by leaps and bounds. Who wouldn’t be envious? For the past hundred years, the York family hasn’t had a single Wizard. Nine years ago, when Bishop Pello publicly Purified the gardener Will in the square of the Black Fortress Town church, I was vexed for a long time. I didn’t want to attend the Church’s Purification Ceremony at all.”

Not only did Sylvia not attend the Purification Ceremony nine years ago, but none of the High-ranked Knights of the York family were present either. This was enough to show the attitude of the secular lords toward the Church’s handling of Wizards.

Why burn him? Couldn’t they have just left him for us to use? What a waste!

Victor caressed Sylvia’s long, slender, and smooth jade hands and said with a smile, “Unfortunately, that gardener Will wasn’t a child of a York family vassal. He could only be considered a Wild wizard, someone who knew nothing. Since he avoided the lord’s sight, you couldn’t shelter him.”

Sylvia nodded, her expression calm as she asked, “Then do you still remember what the gardener Will looked like before he died?”

The scene from that time instantly flashed through Victor’s mind:

The platinum sacred flame intertwined with a green radiance, vines and grass broke through the bluestone slabs, the square was lush with green grass and blooming flowers, and the Wizard Will’s roars were filled with majesty and fury… That was absolutely not a human voice, but a will that seemed divine.

Exhaling a long breath, a scornful smile played on Victor’s lips. He said lightly, “It declared, ‘You will not succeed’… I don’t know if the ‘you’ it spoke of referred to the clergy or someone else, but I didn’t like its high-and-mighty attitude.”

Sylvia asked with a smile, “My dear, can you tell me why you don’t like them?”

Victor nodded. “You’ve spoken to me about the union of the three natures. That was your personal experience from roaming the Elemental Sea. Based on your understanding, I came up with the concept of a pan-conscious deity. When an extraordinary being is eternal and indestructible, it has no need for procreation. It only has divine nature, without bestial nature or the brilliance of humanity. Its divine consciousness is completely different from our wisdom, and it exists widely within every soul. Simply put, aside from restraining our instincts, it has no real effect on our self-will.”

“We can accept the existence of this pan-conscious divine nature and call ourselves children of the Creator, affirming the sanctity of the soul. This is the theoretical basis of the Mind Bloodline secret art: the self as the world, the mind as the sovereign, and the bloodline as the Law. To overthrow it would be to negate my understanding of the world… and facts have proven that the Mind Bloodline secret art is correct.”

“Conversely, an extraordinary being with self-awareness is not fundamentally different from us.” After a pause, Victor sneered, “No matter what that thing was, the Wizard Will was about to be burned to death, and it suddenly popped up to shout, ‘You will not succeed’… Heh, how ridiculous. The most hateful thing is that it was actually hiding deep within the Wizard’s soul… No one would like having another consciousness inside their own soul.”

Sylvia interjected, “But that’s not what actually happens.”

Victor nodded. “Yes. Compared to a pan-conscious deity, the level of life of Devils or evil gods is far too low. Because of the sanctity of the soul, their consciousness cannot possibly lie dormant deep within a Wizard’s soul. But I was ignorant back then. I believed the Church’s public propaganda and thought Wizards were really the incarnations of Devils, the spawn of evil, and I felt fear and loathing because of it. It wasn’t until Master Edwen told me the history of the Chosen that I learned Wizards and Devils have some sort of special connection in terms of Law. They can even communicate, but a Devil absolutely cannot control a Wizard’s consciousness.”

Sylvia said, “The truth is, in the instant a Wizard’s soul collapses and disintegrates, a Devil can briefly observe the physical world through him. The Church uses this to fool mortal believers, but for High-ranked Knights, this is no secret. Because High-ranked Knights respect, but do not believe in the Lord of Radiance, and the Church’s clergy need to unite the Knight-Nobles to jointly fight against the Devils’ encroachment on the human kingdoms.”

She stood up, walked to the window of the lounge, and gazed through the crystal pane at the vibrant little garden. With her back to Victor, she said, “The migration of the Forest Centaurs, the Ant-man invasion of our homeland, the migration of the Mountain Dwarves, the barbarians coming down from the mountains, the Grayhollow Satyrs threatening both the mountain tribes and the Teutonic Duchy… All of this seems to herald an impending disaster. But I am not anxious about it…”

“Clement schemed to have Sophia bring the barbarians to the Centaur Hills. During his visit to Goldwater City, he had a detailed discussion with me. He represented the Church, hoping that the York family would hold the defensive line in the Centaur Hills and resist the Ant-man plague. In the course of our conversation, he revealed some secrets to prove that the so-called disaster might not necessarily happen, or at least it wouldn’t affect the core interests of the York family… The reason is that the God-favored Miller is in the Centaur Hills.”

“He said that the greatest disaster in human history was caused by Devils—the Blood Sacrifice war of the Chosen. Since then, humanity has never again faced a crisis verging on extinction. This doesn’t mean the Devils have given up since the Blood Sacrifice war; rather, the God-favored of the Lord of Radiance have been constantly foiling their plots, preventing major disasters from occurring.”

Sylvia turned around, flashing a brilliant smile at Victor, who was in the shadows. “You see, wasn’t the first disaster quelled by the God-favored Inoc?”

Victor shook his head. “Clement couldn’t convince you with just that one example.”

“Indeed.” Sylvia nodded and continued, “Clement also mentioned the Pantheon Uprising one thousand five hundred years ago. There were no Spirit Knights in that era, otherwise it wouldn’t have been Claire and her brother’s turn to be so invincible. Or perhaps, the Devils deliberately avoided the Spirit Knights and incited the Archwizards to rebel. But they couldn’t avoid the God-favored…”

Victor frowned and asked, “Is Clement certain that the Church had a top-tier God-favored during the Pantheon Uprising?”

“He isn’t certain.” Sylvia shook her head. “A God-favored on the level of Inoc stays far away from the Church’s central authority, but their art of prophecy transcends the limits of time and space. The Church has no way of recording what every God-favored has done. They don’t even know if they are top-tier God-favored like the first Pope, unless they reveal themselves. Clement is only certain of one thing: the Pope from one thousand five hundred years ago was also a Spirit Priest who possessed the wondrous power of prophecy. Besides a God-favored, who could have caused him to die at the hands of an Archwizard?”

A God-favored secretly purged the power of the papal line?

Victor was startled at first, then relieved. He nodded and said, “The papal line was single-mindedly trying to suppress the Knight-Nobles. Their actions were already threatening the continued existence of the human kingdoms. No wonder a God-favored would distort the Pope’s art of prophecy.”

Sylvia gave a beautiful smile and said, “Clement’s purpose in talking to me was to hope I would support him. He was worried I would lean toward Tamor, or Patriarch Friedes, while his level of support for the Centaur Hills is nowhere near that of Naville. He tried to brush me off with the God-favored, and I was half-convinced by his words. After all, we’ve only seen Silver-rank Ant-man chiefs, but the Ant-men were able to destroy an empire of another race. They certainly don’t lack special ant-monsters of Gold rank or higher. And as for the Ant-man Mother at the top, who knows how powerful it is? The Centaur Hills is in special need of the support of divine arts.”

“Luckily, I have you by my side.”

Pulling Victor up from the sofa, Sylvia gently embraced him and said softly, “I can feel the anxiety in your heart, and I see you growing rapidly under the pressure of the Ant-man plague… My dear His Highness Randell, you’ve given me confidence.”

The two embraced intimately, and after a moment of tenderness, Victor laughed:

“Your decision to ally with Clement probably wasn’t just because of me… His Holiness the Pope played a beautiful hand, leveraging the situation. He brought the barbarians and two thousand Temple Army soldiers to the Centaur Hills, and along with them, he drew in two hundred of Auguste’s Glory Knights and two thousand cavalry. Elder Harald, three barbarian Urus, the level-six battle priest Kent, the high-ranking Sacred Warrior Wallace… all of this is power the Centaur Hills can borrow, plus a top-tier God-favored, Miller… Clement was full of sincerity, and he also demonstrated his political skill to you. You have no reason not to bet on him.”

Sylvia smiled, slipped out of Victor’s embrace, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It wasn’t until you explained the Mind Bloodline secret art to me that I was truly convinced of Clement’s description of the God-favored.”

“According to the theory of the pan-conscious deity and the Mind Bloodline, the faith of mortals can be seen as a kind of power of the mind, and the Lord of Radiance is the collective embodiment of the believers’ power of the mind. The Church claims that at the end of the Era of the Chosen, the cries of the common people awakened the Lord of Radiance, and Pope Inoc, carrying out Its will, began to fight the crazed Wizards and bring Redemption to the people… Also, Father Miller’s Proverb, ‘Our Lord is not the Lord, the Lord is not our Lord,’ both confirm that the Lord of Radiance is a pan-conscious deity.”

“The purpose of Devils and evil gods, I do not know… The origin of the Lord of Radiance, I also do not know. But I can imagine what the basis of the Lord of Radiance’s existence is.”

“It’s human faith!” Sylvia said, perking up. “It was born from the people’s desire for Redemption, aggregating the power of everyone’s minds. Those with pure faith are the God-favored of the Lord of Radiance. They inherit Its will to redeem the people, wield Its authority, and quell the disasters in the human kingdoms.”

“When our purpose aligns with Father Miller’s—to resist the disasters threatening the human kingdoms—then this God-favored is trustworthy.”

Sylvia’s tone shifted, and she suddenly asked, “Why did Miller come to the Centaur Hills?”

Before Victor could react, a sly smile touched her lips, and her eyes sparkled as she said, “This brings us back to His Highness Randell’s anxiety… My dear, for thousands of years, no major disaster has occurred within the human kingdoms. The Ant-men are no more terrifying than the Centaurs and Ogres of the Northern Wildlands, so why are you so anxious? Because, for thousands of years, the Devils and evil gods have failed to create huge disasters from within the human kingdoms. All their plots were foiled by the God-favored of the Lord of Radiance. Now, the papal line has been overthrown, and the relationship between secular lords and the noble clergy is closer than ever. It’s almost impossible for them to create internal turmoil in the human kingdoms anymore, so they can only start from the outside. And you saw this… didn’t you?”

You’ve said everything, what’s left for me to say?

Victor’s mouth hung half-open, stunned for a long moment before he gave a wry smile. “I haven’t witnessed how formidable the Centaur and Ogre tribes are, but the terror of the Ant-man tide left a deep impression on me… As for what you said, I had my suspicions, but my thoughts on the disaster only became clear after Sophia described the situation with the Grayhollow Satyrs… My dear, don’t praise me so highly. In truth, we’re both about equally clever.”

“To receive the praise of the great scholar, His Highness Randell, is my greatest honor.” Sylvia lifted the hem of her skirt and curtsied, then leaned on Victor’s shoulder, laughing until she shook like a flower branch. “My dear, are you praising me? Or are you praising yourself?”

Victor wrapped his arms around her slender waist and said with a laugh, “Of course I’m praising both of us.”

“Hmph.” Sylvia crinkled her nose. “In any case, Father Miller came here for you. To be precise, he was drawn by your talent for wisdom and believes you are the key to quelling the disaster.”

“You have a Wizard under your control. If I said I wasn’t envious, I doubt you’d believe me, but I truly don’t care.” Sylvia continued, “How many people can your Wizard turn into Mystic Warriors? One hundred? One thousand? What would happen if I took him from you? He can’t possibly use his Wizardry without a price, and his lifespan has its limits. But you, you analyzed the mysteries of his Wizardry and created the Mind Bloodline secret art. Compared to a never-ending stream of Mind Warriors, what does one Wizard count for? Compared to my His Highness Randell, he is nothing!”

Victor blinked. “But you didn’t know I was researching the Mind Bloodline secret art at the beginning.”

Sylvia nodded. “Father Miller’s presence made me more patient, so I didn’t rush to discuss this topic with you. A God-favored can see fragments of the future. He must have his reasons for tolerating you harboring a Wizard, and I didn’t want to alert Miller and cause any unforeseen changes. Besides, what’s yours is mine, and what’s mine is yours. It doesn’t matter who holds the Wizard. Now I know he was waiting for you to create the Mind Bloodline secret art to enhance the human kingdoms’ strength against external enemies. In reality, that Wizard is no longer important. Since he involves a God-favored, I will no longer ask about him, and I’ve forbidden Trisley from discussing the matter. We will just pretend he doesn’t exist.”

“…However,” Sylvia knitted her willow-like brows and said thoughtfully, “the Mind Warriors created by the Wizard are not like ordinary humans. They are actually immune to my Mental Spike… even a Gold Knight doesn’t have that ability. This means their souls must have been altered by the Wizard. I’m worried… whether you can maintain absolute control over Manuel and the others.”

Meeting Sylvia’s questioning gaze, Victor said with a placid expression, “Father Miller doesn’t seem to be worried about that.”

Sylvia’s face broke into a smile. She held up a graceful hand and began ticking off points on her fingers.

“First, nine years ago, you personally witnessed the existence of Devils and also understand that Wizards and Devils have some way of contacting each other.”

“Second, you can’t be sure if Manuel, who was altered by a Wizard, will listen to you or to the Wizard. It’s also unknown whether a Devil might use Manuel to tempt the Wizard Tofwen, whose days are numbered.”

“Third, we have the ability to deal with the Ant-man plague now, but I absolutely do not want internal strife to break out in Gambis or the Centaur Hills, especially strife caused by Devils.”

“My dear, Father Miller will do what he should do, and we will do what we should do. We shouldn’t take risks. It’s best that Wizards who deal in the realms of bloodline and soul respectively do not come into contact. Your Wizard might have even been arranged by Miller. Having him under the God-favored’s nose makes me feel more at ease. If he weren’t still useful to you, I’d want to kill him myself.” Sylvia sighed and advised, “As for the potion-making system for the Mind Warriors, wait until we go to Aerie Fortress for the King’s wedding celebration. You can talk to the Wizard Tofwen in person then. In short, don’t let Tofwen come into contact with humans who have been altered by a Wizard.”

Sylvia’s worries were entirely superfluous, but Victor had no way to explain. He could only nod silently in agreement and seize the opportunity to say:

“We’ll do what we should do. In that case, I plan to start laying the groundwork in the Eastern Alliance. You always say I’m overreaching, but this time, you have to support me.”

Chapter 569: Exploiting the Gaps

Theocracy of Ayr, Mountain of Light, the Holy See.

The Pope, dressed in a washed-out white priest’s robe, sat behind an oak writing desk. He held a goose quill, writing on a letter, the hard nib scratching across the paper and filling the small reception room with a unique rustling sound.

Just then, the sound of footsteps approached from the corridor outside, followed by a soft, measured knock on the door. Clement placed the goose quill into the inkwell and called out, “Come in.”

The beechwood door was pushed open from the outside, and a vigorous, spirited old man walked in. He had a ruddy complexion and a straight back, and was dressed in the magnificent yet understated robes of a Cardinal Bishop. On his head, he wore a dark gold bishop’s crown, symbolizing his status as a sixth-rank priest, giving him a solemn and majestic air.

Closing the heavy door behind him and sealing the Pope’s private chambers from the outside world, the old priest removed his dark gold crown, revealing a full head of meticulously combed silver hair. In a resonant voice, he asked with a smile, “Clement, what good news do you have that you were in such a hurry to summon me?”

The Pope leaned back in his chair and pointed to the armchair opposite the desk, smiling warmly. “Lazarus, sit and we’ll talk… You don’t need me to pull out a chair for you these days.”

This spry and healthy old man was none other than the former Cardinal Archbishop of Gambis, now a Cardinal Bishop of the Curia—Lazarus. A few years ago, he had been a frail and decrepit figure, but now, having advanced to a sixth-rank priest and mastered the divine art of Life Extension, the deep wrinkles on his face and the scars on his skin had vanished completely. A long-lost vigor had returned to his body. If not for his silver hair and beard, people would find it hard to imagine he was a priest in his eighties.

Ordinary priests rarely lived to such an age. The use of divine arts would, to some extent, consume a priest’s spirit and life force, thereby shortening their lifespan—this was the price mortals paid for wielding extraordinary power. However, the sixth-rank divine art, Life Extension, could passively use holy power to nourish one’s soul and body. As long as a sixth-rank priest took care of themselves and used divine arts sparingly, their theoretical lifespan was comparable to that of a Silver Knight. They could even, before their death, inscribe the Life Extension divine art into holy power crystals, creating a life-prolonging artifact to be awarded to Sacred Warriors or regular nobles. This was, in fact, a privileged divine art that Pope Inoc had granted to sixth-rank priests.

This was precisely why the social status and prestige of priests had always been higher than that of Paladins.

After all, who could argue when the great first Pope was himself a priest?

Life Extension could prolong life but not restore youth. Lazarus and Clement were of a similar age, having served the same high-rank priest since childhood, yet their appearances suggested an age gap of twofold. Clement was not only a sixth-rank priest but also an initial-rank Knight; his soul and body were far more powerful than an ordinary person’s. Lazarus, on the other hand, was just a normal man. He had served as Cardinal in the Gambis diocese for a full thirty years before accumulating enough merit to be promoted to a sixth-rank priest and return to the Holy See, finally securing a seat as a Cardinal.

However, in order to ease the pressure on Clement in the Curia, he had handed over the Gambis diocese, which he had painstakingly managed, to Patriarch Tamor. In terms of actual influence, Lazarus was now far less powerful than the other Cardinals.

This alone showed just how deep the bond between Lazarus and Clement was.

Placing his crown on the desk, Lazarus pulled out his chair and sat down. He casually picked up the letter Clement had been writing and let out a soft “Huh?”

“Is this… writing paper? White writing paper?”

Clement clasped his hands on the desk and nodded with a smile. “A Priest Pilgen in the Sus Archdiocese ground the roots of the Eastern Alliance’s Devil Grass and the trunks of the Twilight Forest’s White Rock Wood into a pulp to create this white writing paper. Although its manufacturing process is complex and the raw materials are not cheap, it is still more affordable than parchment scrolls. Most importantly, the dimensions of this paper can be adjusted at will, making it incredibly convenient for drawing large maps, giving it an advantage over map paper made of stitched hides. Moreover, it’s thin, foldable, and easy to store and transport. Its only drawback is the complex process, which produces too many defective products, so its output is limited. For the time being, it cannot replace hide paper.”

“If we were to hand over the manufacturing process for this white writing paper to His Highness Randall of the Centaur Hills, we could receive a bounty of eight hundred Gold Sols from him. Unfortunately, Pilgen is adamant about not surrendering the process. He says this paper is specifically for issuing the Sus diocese’s Mutual Aid Vouchers.”

The Pope sighed softly, leaned back, and said, “Old pal, can you believe it? A few years ago, Victor offered a reward for developing a papermaking process. It wasn’t just to use wheat straw to solve the common folk’s personal hygiene problems; his ultimate goal was actually to invent a cheap paper that could be written on. From this alone, you can see that he had conceived of the schools for general education and vocational schools long ago… If I had been able to connect all of his governance measures back then, you would have seen the complete tenant system several years earlier… His gift for wisdom is like a miracle, truly astounding.”

“Fortunately, all three naturally awakened sages have close ties with the Church. Her Majesty Inoc and Priestess Arya are both servants of the Supreme Lord. While His Highness Randall is a secular lord, many of his initiatives have been of great significance to our missionary work. Take the schools for general education, for example. If he had insisted on running them himself, we could never have allowed it… Essentially, a sage must be able to balance the interests of the clergy, the Knight-Nobles, and the mortal believers all at once… This must be our Lord’s guidance,” Lazarus said, his eyes still on the contents of the paper.

“Praise our Lord.” Clement bowed his head and recited the phrase, then said with a smile, “Victor’s closeness to the Church should be due to Father Miller’s influence… This is indeed our Lord’s guidance.”

Bishop Lazarus looked up, holding up the piece of paper, his expression one of surprise. “This list is filled with the names of Knight-Nobles from Gambis who have been exiled over the past twenty years.”

Clement nodded, took a parchment scroll from a nearby drawer, and pushed it toward Lazarus, gesturing for him to read it.

This letter was from the distant Centaur Hills, personally penned by Bishop Pello. It recorded two matters: first, the Centaur Hills had agreed to allow missionaries sent by the Church to be involved in the daily education at the artisan and soldier schools, but the Church was not permitted to interfere with the Retainer Training Camp. The second matter was that Sylvia hoped the Pope could help the Centaur Hills “persuade” some of the exiled Knight-Noble families to allow them to adopt their children under the age of fifteen for a fee.

Expanding the scope of the missionaries’ educational reach was a primary goal for the Curia during this period. Sylvia’s agreement to allow missionaries into the vocational schools was of great significance to the Church.

Children had simple minds and were especially easy to shape in their faith in the Lord of Radiance. Moreover, their hearts were pure and innocent, providing an exceptionally pure power of faith. Missionaries at the schools for general education organized the children to sing hymns in the morning and evening. In the mornings, they learned to read and write, transcribing church classics on sand tables. In the afternoons, they exercised and learned basic martial skills. Even though the schools for general education were not within the range of a faith-generating array, the priests were able to collect holy power crystals of excellent quality from them every day.

It was rare for a lord to gather so many children together. How could a mere four years of education be enough for the missionaries? It would be best to educate them until they reached adulthood. However, the costs of the general education schools were borne entirely by the lord, so on the matter of educating young children, the Church had less say than the lord. Many lords were even unwilling to continue operating vocational schools, and at such times, the resident priests would always bring up the Centaur Hills.

Look at the results of the Centaur Hills’ development over the past few years. Even the great scholar, His Highness Randall, insists on running vocational schools. Even if you’re as foolish as a donkey, you won’t suffer a loss by following his lead. If you don’t learn from him now, while other families are doing so, you’ll live to regret it.

The Centaur Hills had become a model for other lords to emulate. Goldwater City’s decision to open its vocational schools to missionaries had set an example. Although it was a bit of a shame that the missionaries were barred from the Retainer Training Camp, it was understandable, and besides, the number of students in the Retainer Training Camp was not that large.

The second matter left Lazarus somewhat perplexed.

Exiled Knight-Nobles were generally the losers of internal family struggles or scapegoats sacrificed by their families. They were required to lead their families and vassals to the Twilight Forest defense line in the north of Sus and serve ten to twenty years of hard labor, assisting the Temple Army and the lords of Sus in resisting the invasions of the Twilight Gnolls. Accepting recruitment by a lord of Sus was their only way out. If an exiled Knight died in battle and there were no naturally awakened Knights among his blood relatives, the minor family would be exiled to the Eastern Alliance, with no chance of ever making a comeback.

It seemed normal that Sylvia would want to select some descendants with knight’s bloodlines from these hopeless exiled families, but she was approaching the wrong person.

The Inquisition was responsible for carrying out the exile of Knight-Nobles. If Sylvia were to ask the Trigoval family for a few children of exiled Knights, they would not deny a Spirit Knight this courtesy. But for the Pope to arrange this matter, the Curia would be overstepping its authority. The Inquisition was, in name, only answerable to the Pope, not subject to the Curia’s command.

Lazarus ruffled his neat, silver hair, looked at the list in his hand again, and tapped the table. He leaned forward, staring into Clement’s gentle, light blue eyes, and said in a low voice, “This isn’t persuading them to adopt for a fee. These are hostages! The Queen of Roses wants to meddle in the Eastern Alliance?”

The Trigovars, in conjunction with the Holy Mountain Monastery, treated the Eastern Alliance as their private backyard, reaping vast fortunes from the population trade and the trade of specialty products from the swamps every year. They would not allow any power besides Sus and Borui to interfere in the Eastern Alliance. An ordinary group of refugees wouldn’t even cause a ripple upon entering the East. Only exiled nobles, protected by the Radiant Code and the New Covenant of Light, could gain a foothold in the Eastern Alliance, but they too would be slowly worn down by the Inquisition and the Holy Mountain Priests.

For Sylvia to bypass the Trigovars and approach the Pope directly for people, she was clearly planning to lay the groundwork in the Eastern Alliance in secret, planting a few moles inside first.

Clement shook his head and said with a smile, “Not the Queen of Roses. His Highness Randall.”

Lazarus thought for a moment, then nodded. “You’re right. This isn’t Sylvia’s style. A Spirit Knight only becomes aggressive and unstoppable when they are on the verge of Annihilation. Before that, they are generally more restrained and do not easily make enemies for their family’s descendants.”

“Then why is His Highness Randall laying the groundwork in the Eastern Alliance now?”

“If I could see through his thoughts, I would either possess the same rare gift for wisdom or be a top-tier God-favored,” Clement said, his eyes shining. “But I believe His Highness Randall has already seen that we are preparing to make a move against the Inquisition.”

Lazarus fell silent. It was his habit to remain quiet about things he couldn’t figure out.

Clement shook his head with a wry smile. “Old pal, this is the one thing about you… Tournans asks about anything he doesn’t understand, and you can’t stop him. If you don’t ask, I don’t even know where to begin.”

Lazarus said with a straight face, “Start from the beginning.”

Clement pondered for a moment before speaking. “As you know, it was my design for Kent and Wallace to defend Raven Town, but Sylvia took the credit. Therefore, I owe Relgarrel a favor… Vera Relgarrel and Neo Wester secretly became partners, and her father asked me to arrange a meeting between Neo Wester and Victor. The root cause of this matter was Nachtigal encouraging the Randt Empire’s royal family to enter the Eastern Alliance. The Trigovars got anxious and secretly joined forces with Sus, Borui, Patriarch Tamor, and the Five Great Paladin Families to try and divert Neo Wester’s attention to the Southern Continent.”

Lazarus nodded. “This might be playing right into Nachtigal’s hands. Although we don’t want to see the Lightguard develop secular power, Nachtigal and Neo Wester have been connected by marriage for over three hundred years. How could they be so easily separated? Whether Neo Wester crosses the river south or leads his clan east, Nachtigal has broken free from the shackles of the Kingdom of Ayr.”

“Exactly. The moment the Trigovars panicked, they fell into Nachtigal’s trap and exposed their own weakness,” Clement continued. “I still can’t fully comprehend His Highness Randall’s reasons for laying the groundwork in the Eastern Alliance, but he has clearly sensed something different in the air. He sees a flaw in the Eastern Alliance and believes there’s an opportunity to be seized. After his brief contact with Neo Wester, he neither agreed to Vera’s proposal nor explicitly rejected it. Instead, he deliberately shelved the topic. He is observing the development of the situation, waiting for a chance to strike.”

“A while ago, Pello had Ron probe His Highness Randall, talking about the matter of vassals’ children enrolling in the general education schools. From such a simple conversation, His Highness Randall actually asked Ron in return, what would happen if a young Wizard was discovered in a school for general education? Ron told him the truth, that young Wizards are handled by the Inquisition… Today, he came to me with a request to help him plant moles in the Eastern Alliance.”

Lazarus took a deep breath, speaking in disbelief, “Even Ron doesn’t know you have plans to place the Inquisition under the Curia’s authority… His Highness Randall figured it out that easily?”

“He has clearly figured it out.”

Lazarus shook his head. “Clement, on this issue, I cannot support you… If we and the Trigovars fight until we are both grievously wounded, it will only benefit Tamor’s faction. Don’t forget, behind the Inquisition are the Radiant Knights and Flidis.”

Clement said gently, “Old pal, I didn’t explain it clearly… The ‘we’ that His Highness Randall saw refers to everyone except the Trigovars and the Holy Mountain Priests.”

“Including me, Tamor, Flidis, Nachtigal, and… the Five Great Paladin Families of the Radiant Knights.”

Chapter 570: Going with the Flow

“Testier’s rank is difficult to shake, and Nachtigal’s rank is undisputed, so on what grounds does Trigovar occupy the position of the second family in the Radiant Knights?” Clement summed up the internal conflict of the Radiant Knights in a single sentence.

The Testier family controlled the Golden Horn and possessed the Gold Bloodline of the Sword Saint Draven. With the full support of a secular empire behind them, the Stormwind Paladins of House Testier always stood at the forefront against the beastmen tribes. Their number one rank among the Paladins was unshakable. The Nachtigal family ranked last among the Seven Great Paladin Families, but they had their own independent force, the Lightguard. Besides Paladins, Nachtigal also had priests and Sacred Warriors, placing them completely outside the hierarchies of the Radiant Knights and the Temple Army. The Trigovar family, however, controlled the Inquisition and had held the second-highest rank in the Radiant Knights for over one thousand five hundred years. Their awkward position stemmed from the fact that the Inquisition was technically part of the Temple Army’s establishment.

The ranking of a Paladin family determined its quota of Paladins, while Divine Favor determined a Paladin’s advancement in level. Trigovar, being in the same hierarchy as the other four Paladin families, was in direct competition with them. While the other Paladin families clashed with beastmen in the Northern Wildlands, Trigovar was in the rear, rounding up a few Wizards and intimidating noble lords. Yet, they held the second rank. Inevitably, they became the target for the other four Paladin families to deflect their own internal conflicts.

Nominally, the Inquisition was responsible for capturing Wizards and eliminating wizard organizations like the Pantheon. In reality, it was a tool used by the papal line to suppress the nobility. According to the Radiant Code, any act that harmed clergy or Knight-Nobles without cause would result in the perpetrator losing their divine favor. This was precisely the kind of work the Trigovar family undertook. Although they had forsaken the Pope and chosen to side with the Paladin families, the Inquisition’s function remained unchanged. It was still the Radiant Knights’ tool for sanctioning lords. The Paladins of the Trigovar family made sacrifices for this; many lost their divine arts, becoming ordinary Knight-Nobles of the Sasan Empire.

However, ever since the Spire Faction and the Paladin Faction reached an accord and jointly signed the New Covenant of Light more than 300 years ago, the Inquisition no longer executed guilty Knight-Nobles, instead exiling them to the Eastern Alliance. The sharp conflict between the two sides was eased, and the Inquisition’s role changed. It began to act as an arbitrator for secular lords, exiling guilty Knight-Nobles to the barren Eastern Alliance. The Trigovar family played both sides, skimming off the top and engaging in a population trade of noble bloodlines in the Eastern Alliance. And precisely because the New Covenant replaced execution with exile, the Paladins of House Trigovar avoided the punishments of the Radiant Code. No longer did any of them lose the Lord of Radiance’s favor for sanctioning knights and clergy.

Trigovar neither fought the beastmen nor had to sacrifice the divine power of its Paladins, yet it still occupied the second rank. Of course, the other four Paladin families were disgruntled.

As the leader of the Radiant Knights, the Testier family could not continue to turn a deaf ear to the criticisms leveled against the Paladin families, especially in the context of the great expansion. Testier needed to unite the Paladins fighting on the front lines. In truth, Trigovar had run the Inquisition for over a thousand years and had long since accumulated formidable strength, commanding a large number of mid-to-high-rank Sacred Warriors. To launch a counter-offensive into the Northern Wildlands, the Radiant Knights even had to transfer ten thousand soldiers of the Temple Army from the Twilight Forest defensive line. Testier could not afford to ignore the Trigovar family’s power.

The Inquisition was like a sharp sword. The Radiant Knights wielded it to sanction secular lords. They severed the Gold Bloodline of the Neo Wester family, intimidated the Baselius family, and, north of the Worton Plains, founded the Sasan Empire, integrating the power of the northern lords to jointly resist the beastmen of the Northern Wildlands. After the New Covenant, the Radiant Knights sheathed this sharp sword. Whoever disobeyed would get a rap from the scabbarded blade. The three southern kingdoms organized several military plans to attack the Sasan Empire, but the Inquisition, under the pretext of capturing Wizards, sabotaged their military operations, to the point that the King of Dodor smashed his crown and roared in fury, “The Inquisition only allows us to fight with tied hands!”

Now, things were different. Viscount Randell had invented the New Agro-husbandry and pioneered the tenant system, greatly alleviating the land conflicts in the various kingdoms. The lords’ focus shifted from internal strife to expansion, and the military alliance of the three kingdoms against the Sasan Empire dissolved. The Radiant Knights could finally concentrate their forces to attack the Northern Wildlands and reclaim the lost lands of the human kingdoms. At a time like this, who were they planning to intimidate with the sword of sanction still in hand?

It could only be the southern expansion lords.

Never mind that Gambis and the Kingdom of Borea would look askance at the Radiant Knights; even Patriarch Tamor, who was wholly focused on the northern expansion, could not accept the Radiant Knights dictating terms regarding the bigger picture of the southern expansion.

If the Radiant Knights were to carry the banner of human revival, their direct leadership of the Inquisition seemed somewhat inappropriate.

But what could be done? The Radiant Knights would never relinquish the power of religious inquisition. But now, Nachtigal had lifted the lid on the Inquisition, exposing the conflict between Trigovar and the other Paladin families for all to see.

Clement convened his trusted colleagues for a secret discussion on the matter of the Inquisition. He believed they should seize this opportunity to transfer the Inquisition from the Temple Army’s command structure to that of the Templars, thereby placing it under the Curia. This proposal was opposed by the majority, including Lazarus.

The reason was simple: the Curia wanted to take the opportunity to reclaim the power of religious inquisition; the Lightguard also wanted to take over the Inquisition; and Testier hoped the leadership of the Inquisition would be rotated among the Paladin families. In such a situation, whoever moved against the Trigovar family first would be the one to lose.

The Church’s internal factions were a complex web. How could His Highness Randell see that everyone was eyeing Trigovar with hostility? Could it be that Clement had secretly informed him, hoping to use Sylvia’s and his power to secure law enforcement authority over the Inquisition?

Clement looked at the frowning Lazarus and a smile touched the corner of his lips. “His Highness Randell asked Dayne where those little wizards went. I, too, would like to know where those young wizards have gone! The Inquisition claims all young wizards have been secretly purified… Who has seen it? Now, all the lords are opening schools for general education. Soon, those little wizards will have nowhere to hide, and they will all fall into Trigovar’s hands. Old pal, do you really want that to happen?”

Realization dawned on Lazarus, and he sighed with a dark chuckle. “Victor didn’t know who within the Church opposed Trigovar. He foresaw that everyone would be extremely wary of the Trigovar family’s expansion. Clement, since you already figured it out, why didn’t you say so at the time?”

“I had no proof that Trigovar was secretly raising a group of wizards.” Clement shook his head, his gaze growing deep and distant. He spoke in a low voice, “For a long time, the Inquisition has been secretly taking away the young wizards of the Theocracy of Ayr while publicly purifying the adult ones. But everyone knows that Trigovar cooperates with the Holy Mountain Priests, secretly using the wizards’ power to invent many extraordinary potions and offensive divine arts. I admit that Trigovar’s way of handling wizards was correct. However, in the past, wizards were few, and their legacy was intermittent. Trigovar had the ability to control them. But with the spread of the tenant system, the number of young wizards captured by the Inquisition is growing. The wizards secretly raised by the Inquisition now have a stable line of successors. As they bring immense benefits and potential dangers, will they still be willing to endure Trigovar’s enslavement?”

“The wizard organization raised by the Inquisition must not be controlled by a single Paladin family!”

Lazarus nodded with a grave expression. “They will either openly rebel against the Inquisition or choose to infiltrate the Trigovar family. Either scenario is unacceptable to us.”

Clement said, “I propose that Trigovar leads the Inquisition’s Sacred Warriors and the Holy Mountain Priests to be reintegrated into the Temple Army’s chain of command. The Inquisition itself will be placed under the Templars’ establishment, with one Inquisitor-General and two deputies. For now, the Inquisitor-General will be appointed by a Cardinal from Flidis’s faction, while the two deputies will be designated by our faction and Tamor’s. In short, the Curia must first reclaim the power of religious inquisition… The Eastern Alliance diocese has been in chaos for so many years; it’s time for a reorganization.”

Lazarus tugged at his beard and said with a frown, “Then… who will take the lead?”

“No matter who takes the lead, the end result will be the Paladin families rotating control of the Inquisition… unless we make the Radiant Knights act first.” Clement said lightly, “Isn’t His Highness Randell laying the groundwork in the Eastern Alliance? We’ll give him a push from behind the scenes. He won’t fear Trigovar’s power. When the Inquisition and His Highness Randell’s people clash head-on, Trigovar will face the wrath of Sylvia and His Highness Randell, and the Radiant Knights will have to foot the bill. We just need to choose the right moment for His Highness Randell to expose the dark side of the Eastern Alliance. Will Testier still be able to sit still then? The five great Paladin families and the great lords of Sasan will probably be scrambling to carve up the Inquisition’s wizards.”

Lazarus chuckled. “Clement, our tutor once said you were his most cunning disciple.” He paused, then frowned again. “What’s so good about the Eastern Alliance? Why is His Highness Randell interested in it?”

“I don’t know… but I know Father Miller is by His Highness Randell’s side,” Clement said with unhurried composure.

Lazarus slapped his forehead. “How could I have overlooked that eminence… His Highness Randell’s move in the Eastern Alliance might very well be the result of a prophetic guidance from that eminence, to preemptively dismantle a disaster latent in the Eastern Alliance.”

Clement smiled. “If Victor truly wants to take charge of the Eastern Alliance, I can foresee it moving from chaos to order, from barrenness to abundance, from decline to prosperity. He has the ability, and he has the will… After all, he’s the kind of lord who even manages how his people wipe their bottoms.”

Lazarus roared with laughter. “Haha, then we shall gain a large diocese, and at the same time, we’ll have to worry about where to exile criminal prisoners in the future!”

“That’s a matter for decades from now. Let our successors worry about it.”

Clement tapped the writing paper on the desk and said, “This list was provided by the Inquisition. It includes all the knight families being exiled to the Eastern Alliance this Season of Wind. I’ve excerpted the exiled nobles from Gambis. You can help His Highness Randell pick a few suitable helpers.”

“Heh, they’re all familiar faces. I personally signed their orders of exile.” Lazarus took a goose quill from the inkwell and circled four names on the writing paper.

“Parker and Dave, these two older male cousins are a Knight and an apprentice knight from House Sorim. They are the former magistrates of Copper City, sentenced to exile fourteen years ago for colluding with bandits and murdering a noble. They weren’t wrongly accused… House Sorim is infamous for its insidious and vicious infighting among blood relatives. These two should be dead by now. House Sorim is on the verge of collapse, and their families and relatives in Gambis are helpless and can be of use to His Highness Randell.”

“Skeet, magistrate of Deepwater City, convicted of massacring refugees. In truth, he was following Duke Joshua’s orders to drive out refugees from the three eastern provinces and was reported to the cathedral in Deepwater City by an enemy. Duke Joshua couldn’t protect him. However, he once served Katerina, Duke Joshua’s Young Lady. Katerina now governs Goldwater City, and Sylvia should be more than willing to give Skeet’s relatives and descendants a helping hand.”

“Niget, a regular noble, and Victor’s birth mother were cousins. He was convicted nineteen years ago for stealing his liege lord’s property. In reality, he seduced six of the household maids his liege lord was grooming. I am rather curious how this petty noble, who was good for nothing but womanizing, managed to survive nineteen years on the Twilight Forest front line before dying… Hmm, his children are distant cousins to His Highness Randell. The oldest is about thirty-four this year, the youngest twenty-five. They should all have children of their own who can serve as hostages in Goldwater City.”

Lazarus put the quill back and looked up. “I’m afraid the widows and relatives of these nobles don’t have the ability to establish themselves in the Eastern Alliance. If they just obey the arrangements of the Inquisition and the Holy Mountain Priests, wouldn’t His Highness Randell’s scheme fail?”

“Old pal, don’t worry… Trigovar can hold on for at least another ten years. I won’t openly help His Highness Randell place his moles in their territory.” The Pope stood up, walked to the window, and gazed at the northwest corner of Eyer Holy City, where a silver-white spire soared into the clouds. He spoke slowly, “After receiving Pello’s letter, I did some investigating. In fifteen days, a caravan belonging to Marchioness Wimbledon will enter Eyer. They are preparing to transport a shipment of Arreat medicinal herbs to the Kingdom of Borea, passing through the Kingdom of Sus and the Eastern Alliance… His Highness Randell’s people should be in that caravan… There will probably be such caravans every year from now on.”

“The House of Randell has a student at the Silver Spire, named Paul Randall. He is the adopted son of Lord Narsen, Victor’s number one confidant.”

Clement turned back and instructed Lazarus, “You first send someone to contact him, and then covertly approach those four families awaiting exile.”

Lazarus said with a wide smile, “Rest assured, I will arrange everything properly. I definitely won’t let the Inquisition see through any of it.”

Chapter 571: Lying in Wait

The north of the Kingdom of Sus, Cattail Town.

The Ranger Duncan walked down a long street paved with flagstones, accompanied by a few followers. At the end of the street was an inn with a narrow storefront. A wooden sign, carved with the mark of an ear of wheat, was nailed to its limestone wall, which had been whitewashed with sand.

Reaching the inn’s entrance, Duncan unhooked the Adamantine longsword from his waist and handed it to a follower. Unarmed, he pushed open the heavy wooden door by himself. His followers dispersed, heading into the several taverns nearby.

The Wheat Ear Inn catered exclusively to Knights and Rangers, and had its particular customs. A Ranger was only permitted to bring one personal attendant into the inn; the rest of their followers had to rest and amuse themselves in the surrounding taverns. Still, this was far better than the treatment of freemen mercenaries. Those crude and belligerent types were not even allowed to freely enter or exit this long street.

The Ranger approached the bar. Without him needing to say a word, the bartender deftly retrieved his personal oak tankard. While carefully wiping it with a clean white towel, he asked solicitously:

“Your Excellency Duncan, the usual Sunoni red fruit wine with a roasted lamb shank, and a side of white bread with cream?”

He was about thirteen, still a boy, with gray-blue eyes and short blond hair. His features were delicate and handsome, and his smile revealed a set of neat, white teeth. His posture was respectful but not obsequious, indicating a good upbringing.

“I’m not hungry right now. Just a glass of red fruit wine,” the Ranger said to the young bartender, his expression cold.

In the Ranger circles of Cattail Town, Duncan had never been one to get close to others. Rumor had it that he had been through brutal, bloody struggles that had turned his heart as cold and hard as limestone. Perhaps he’d even been betrayed by companions, which was why he was slow to trust and rarely teamed up with other Rangers.

When on a mission in the wilderness, a Ranger could encounter anything. You couldn’t expect other Rangers to sacrifice themselves for you; when faced with the danger of total annihilation, signaling a retreat was considered fulfilling one’s cooperative duty. The fact that Duncan wore a cold, unapproachable face all day only proved he was still a novice.

It wasn’t long before a Ranger in the Wheat Ear Inn called out to him.

“Hey, Duncan, over here.”

Carrying a full glass of Cattail Town’s specialty Sunoni red fruit wine, Duncan walked over to the only occupied table, pulled out a chair, and sat down. He took a sip of the sweet and slightly sour liquid, glanced around the quiet great hall, and said expressionlessly, “It’s a bit empty today.”

The thirty-odd Rangers of Cattail Town were accustomed to exchanging intelligence at the Wheat Ear Inn. Usually around midday, aside from those out on missions, there would be a dozen or so people gathered in the inn. But today, including Duncan, there were only four Knight-Rangers in the entire establishment.

A burly Ranger with bronze-colored skin jutted his chin toward a corner of the great hall and said in a low voice, “Fakis and his group haven’t shown up at all these past two days.”

In the corner of the great hall, a beautiful young female musician was playing the harp. Sorrow clouded her features as her slender, fair fingers plucked at the strings, drawing out a mournful melody that sounded like a tearful lament.

Duncan glanced over once before looking away. The other Ranger wore a knowing smile, his tone tinged with a hint of melancholy as he said:

“In ten days, the Sacred Warriors of the Inquisition will escort a batch of exiled nobles from Cattail Town to the Eastern Alliance. Jessica and her family are among them, and a few of the other female attendants at the Wheat Ear Inn share the same fate… That Fakis and his lot are usually so sweet-tongued, but now they’re deliberately avoiding them.”

The female attendants at the Wheat Ear Inn were all relatives of exiled nobles. For those noblewomen who had reached the age of eighteen but failed to awaken their knight’s bloodline, their relatives would pull strings to find them a job at the inn. It was an implicit suggestion for them to interact more with Knight-Rangers, in the hopes they might conceive a Knight-Ranger’s child and bring new hope to their family. The only problem was that these young noblewomen still held beautiful aspirations for love, yearning for their Ranger lovers to stay with them forever. But this often led them to a cruel reality.

To save an indicted noblewoman of common rank, one needed to pay a penance fee of at least eight thousand Gold Sols to the Inquisition. Most Rangers had a group of followers to support; they lacked money, not women. Moreover, a Ranger’s ultimate goal was to obtain a letter of recommendation from the Church and become a vassal to some lord. To integrate into a family, they had to marry the noblewoman designated by their liege lord. If they still had an indicted noblewoman by their side, not only would their wife be displeased, but their liege lord would also carefully consider the indicted noblewoman’s origins and her enemy families.

There was another type of Ranger, one from a prominent and distinguished house, with a noble bloodline and extraordinary strength, who ventured out purely for the love of adventure. They didn’t worry about wealth or status, but such men were often pursued by female knights, leaving no room for indicted noblewomen to even dream.

The relationship between an indicted noblewoman and a Ranger was a matter of mutual consent, so talk of abandonment was irrelevant. The musician Jessica was caught deep in the web of love and couldn’t extricate herself. The other Rangers could hardly help her, much less would they condemn Fakis for his callous behavior.

Everyone was striving to curry favor and climb into high society; no one had it easy.

A Ranger with a handlebar mustache sighed and said, “Duke Meiding of Rainbow City is recruiting a large number of refugees from the Eastern Alliance to serve as tenant households in the Twilight Forest. Why does the Inquisition insist on exiling the indicted nobles of the Twilight Forest to the Eastern Alliance? Wouldn’t it be better to let them stay here?”

“Karl, are you joking?” The bronze-skinned Ranger scoffed and retorted, “Do you think they would be willing to accept a lord’s protection, cast aside their noble honor, and become lowly tenant households? Besides, according to the New Covenant of Light, if Duke Meiding wants to keep the indicted nobles, he must pay a hefty penance fee for each one to the Inquisition, and he also has to consider how their enemy families would react… The indicted are unwilling to give up their noble status, and the Duke can’t possibly spend a fortune to keep them. They’re better off going to the Eastern Alliance. At least they can keep their noble status and won’t have to face the Gnolls of the Twilight Forest anymore.”

“Oh, right. Karl, is it true what you said, that there are no monsters in the Eastern Alliance?”

“…No monsters, only a daunting despair.” Karl the Ranger was silent for a moment before lifting his glass and taking a sip of red fruit wine. He said grimly, “The endless Devil Grass carves up every settlement in the Eastern Alliance into an isolated island. Monsters can’t get in, but you can’t get out. Life is eternally unchanging. You wait for the armed caravans to come, begging them to take you away, but it’s futile. Unless the esteemed priest allows it, they will never take you. You have to pay a hefty inducement fee to the Church and the lord.”

“That’s for the nobles of the Eastern Alliance, and it’s the same for commoners. The only difference is the price.” Karl breathed out a puff of alcohol-laced air and continued, “Bringing one person out of the Eastern Alliance costs about twenty Gold Sols. Duke Meiding recruited over twenty thousand people from the Eastern Alliance, so Rainbow City must have spent at least five hundred thousand Gold Sols.”

The bronze-skinned Ranger nodded. “A regular noble certainly wouldn’t have the ability to cross the sea of Devil Grass…”

“Even a full knight can’t get through,” Karl said, shaking his head. “The Devil Grass is poisonous, the bugs in it are poisonous, the rats are poisonous, the frogs are poisonous, and most of the waterholes are poisonous too… Without food or drinking water, a Knight can’t get far… What? Natal, you’re thinking of adventuring in the Eastern Alliance?”

The Ranger Natal gave a dry laugh, took a sip of Dumu wine, and scratched his head. “I heard that the Eastern Alliance doesn’t have many monsters, and that as long as someone reclaims land there, both Borea and Sus will grant him investiture as a kingdom lord.”

“I’d advise you to give up on that idea.” Karl shook his head with a bitter smile and explained, “All the valuable land in the Eastern Alliance already has an owner. They’re either transport hubs for the caravans or they’re near the Nidam Great Marsh. The lands that are habitable but worthless are full of Goblins. Even if you kill all the Goblins, the caravans won’t bother visiting the territory you reclaimed. In other words, if you leave the sanctuary of the Church and enter the sea of Devil Grass, you’d be hard-pressed to make it out alive.”

Duncan interjected, “Natal, why the sudden desire to become a Pioneer Lord in the Eastern Alliance? Is it not good here?”

The bronze-skinned Ranger laughed heartily and said freely, “I’m getting old. I have no future, so I have to think about my followers.”

The table fell silent for a moment as the Rangers drank their wine quietly. They were all initial-rank apprentice knights, well past their prime. All the promising Knight-Rangers had already received invitation letters from the lords of the northern territories of Sus, while these men had to rely on experience and cunning to barely scrape by in the Twilight Forest.

At that moment, the melody played by the musician Jessica seemed to carry a thread of desolation within its sorrow.

Natal drained the last drop of wine from his glass. He gripped the tankard with his calloused right hand and said, “Ever since the Temple Army was transferred away from the Twilight Forest defense line, Duke Meiding has increased the bounties for mercenary companies and Rangers, and has been aggressively recruiting Knight-Rangers and mercenary companies. Right now, the bounty for one of our missions is double what it used to be, but these good days won’t last long. I’ve heard that the eldest son of Grand Duke Peter of the Kingdom of Borea is going to enter a marriage alliance with Princess Celine, and Borea’s army will be stationed at the Twilight Forest defense line within two years. When that time comes, people like us will be useless. The lords of Sus aren’t recruiting us now, so they won’t recruit us in the future. They look down on us, and the lords of Dodor, Naville, Gambis, and Sasan look down on us too…”

He paused, exchanged a look with the middle-aged Ranger who had been silent the whole time, and continued, “Simon and I, along with three other Rangers, have already discussed it. We’re going to save up some money first, then take our followers to the Eastern Alliance to try our luck… At worst, we can become nobles in some small town in the Eastern Alliance, just eating and waiting to die. With a title to our names, it would at least be a fulfillment of our original dream.”

“Heh, in that case, you’ll surely be invested as Princes, Dukes, and Marquesses by a few Emperors, and then you’ll spend all day busy making babies.” Karl the Ranger chuckled and shook his head. “I had a hard time sneaking out of the Eastern Alliance when I was young; I’m never going back. In the future, I’ll either die at the hands of a monster or find a small country lord and work as an instructor or something.”

He turned his head and asked, “Duncan, you’re still young. A few days ago, the Garrison Commander of Cattail Town came to talk to you, said he wanted to recruit you into the Meding family. How come nothing came of it?”

“I refused,” Duncan said coldly.

“Huh? Why would you give up such a great opportunity? The Meding family is a thousand-year-old family with a long history, and this generation’s Duke Meiding is a Highness.” Natal’s eyes went wide as he asked, full of curiosity and disbelief.

Am I the same as you masterless stray dogs? Any one of the Mystic Warriors under my command is stronger than you… My Master is His Highness Randell of the Gambis Kingdom. Can Duke Meiding even compare to my Master?

Tao De, under the alias Duncan, sneered inwardly. Maintaining his usual stiff and guarded expression, he said mildly, “My Ranger ranking is too low. I’m afraid of becoming a sacrifice for the Meding family. It’s freer being a Ranger; I can choose missions with varying levels of risk myself.”

Natal gave him a thumbs-up. “A wise decision,” he praised. “How about it? Want to join us in establishing a settlement in the Eastern Alliance?”

“Allow me to decline,” Tao De said without hesitation.

Are you kidding? I snuck out of the Eastern Alliance too.

The Ranger Karl let out a soft laugh, resting a hand on his oak tankard. “Actually, the Meding family may look down on us, but we still have two opportunities.”

“In Redfruit Town to the northwest, there’s a highly renowned Ranger—Godfrey. If I’m not mistaken, he must be a scion of some great family. If we could become his followers, we’d surely have a decent future.”

Natal nodded. “Yes, I’ve heard of him. He likes to take the most dangerous reconnaissance missions, often going deep into the Twilight Forest, and always makes it back in one piece. But his followers aren’t so lucky… Following him is certainly one way out, but our strength… Karl, what’s the other opportunity?”

“From what I know, in two months, His Excellency Raymond Peter of the Peter family will visit the Kingdom of Sus to meet with Princess Celine. Afterward, he will likely represent the Kingdom of Borea to conduct an on-site inspection of the Twilight Forest defense line in preparation for the Borean army’s stationing here. Cattail Town is a place he must visit. If we can present him with a detailed map of the surrounding forests, he might take a liking to us and allow us to serve the Borean army.”

A Ranger’s map is markedly different from the Church’s maps. It’s less comprehensive but far more detailed. The King of Borea’s eldest son is inspecting the Twilight Forest defense line himself because he wants to see something different. When the Boreans come to the unfamiliar Twilight Forest to fight Gnolls, they can’t let themselves be manipulated by the lords of Sus and the Church; they must have their own eyes and ears. What the Ranger Karl called presenting a map was, in fact, recommending themselves to His Excellency Raymond as informants. Although their strength was meager, they possessed a wealth of experience, making them precisely the kind of guides and informants the Boreans needed.

Natal and the others were greatly tempted. They huddled together, whispering about how to please the eldest son of Grand Duke Peter.

Tao De also feigned enthusiasm, his mind racing as he calculated how he could use this opportunity to plant a secret agent by Raymond’s side.

Just then, the heavy wooden door of the Wheat Ear Inn was pushed open, and several people walked in. Leading them was Cattail Town’s resident priest, Father Roch.

“Natal, why is it just the four of you?” the tall, burly Father Roch, whose face was covered in tough flesh, interrupted the harp’s melody with his booming voice.

The Rangers didn’t dare to be disrespectful and quickly rose to their feet. Natal said with a smile, “I don’t know what it is about today, but it’s just the four of us. My lord Roch, do you have a mission for us?”

Roch, who had a background as a battle priest, stepped aside to reveal a priest behind him. He introduced him smugly, “This is Priest Dimik, from the Holy See… my brother.”

Dimik appeared to be in his forties, dressed in priest’s robes of fine linen. Four silver stripes were embroidered on his shoulder, marking his rank as a level four priest—high enough to be a bishop in some region. Added to that, he was from the Holy See. The Rangers were filled with awe and stepped forward to greet him respectfully.

Karl spoke up first, “Respected Priest Dimik, is there anything we can do for you?”

Dimik said with an amiable smile, “A team of aspiring scholars from the Silver Spire is preparing to go into the Twilight Forest to collect some plant and animal specimens to broaden their scholarly experience. They need five experienced Rangers to act as guides. Would any of you gentlemen be interested in taking this commission?”

Natal seized the opportunity and said respectfully, “It would be our honor to be of service to you, Lord Dimik.”

“Don’t misunderstand.” Priest Dimik waved his hand and explained, “I am on my way to take up a post in the Kingdom of Borea. I am only passing through the Kingdom of Sus to visit my brother and, on the way, escort these aspiring scholars from the Spire to Cattail Town. For the specific mission details, you’ll have to ask the leader of the scholars.”

The young man at the very back stepped forward, offered a salute, and introduced himself, “Hello. I am the leader for this scholarly fieldwork, a disciple of Master Edwin, Paul Randell of the House of Randell.”

The House of Randell? A student from the House of Randell at the Spire?!

The Rangers swarmed forward to exchange pleasantries and greetings with the handsome and elegant young scholar. In that moment, the renowned Ranger Godfrey and His Excellency Raymond Peter were all but forgotten.

Tao De, under the alias Duncan, was among them. Shedding his usual cold and stern demeanor, he showed a rare enthusiasm while covertly making the small gestures of a Quicksilver spy making contact. After their eyes met, they confirmed each other’s identities.

That night, on the third floor of the Wheat Ear Inn, Tao De watched as Paul Randell saw the last Ranger out of his room. Only after confirming that the Ranger had gone down to the first floor did he knock on the door and say respectfully, “Your Excellency Paul, this is some information I have compiled myself. Please take a look.”

“Your Excellency Duncan, you have quite a lot of handwritten material here. Please allow me to look it over first before hearing your opinion.”

Paul took the stack of parchment scrolls from Tao De’s hands, closed the door, and gestured for Tao De to enter the study. As he leafed through the scrolls, he mouthed the words:

“Lord Barol is my spy mentor, Lord Narsen is my adoptive father, and His Highness Randell is my Master.”

Tao De’s pupils contracted and then dilated. He mouthed back, “The Master requires me to return to his side in four months, whether or not I complete the mission to plant a secret agent. Are you here to replace me?”

Paul’s lips moved in response, “No, I’m here to assist you… Compared to being a spy, I would much rather be a scholar. The Master has promised me that after this mission ends, I will have no further connection to Quicksilver. As for your future in Quicksilver, it is not my place to comment… Lord Tao De, the Master specifically instructed me that you have already ignited the fire of the mind. Your safety is of higher priority than the mission itself.”

Tao De was relieved. He mouthed, “Rest assured, the Master has also instructed me to ensure my assistant’s secrecy and safety.”

Paul smiled faintly. As he flipped through the parchment scrolls, he mouthed, “The mission has a new component: find a way to plant informants in the Eastern Alliance and cultivate a power base… It seems that won’t be too difficult. A few of the Rangers actually want to go to the Eastern Alliance to establish settlements.”

“I had my men induce them,” Tao De mouthed with a nod, then frowned and added, “But as for the operation against Raymond Peter, I’m at a loss.”

“My lord, that is because you don’t have enough information,” Paul mouthed. “The famous Ranger, Godfrey, who is active in the Twilight Forest, is actually of the Auguste family’s Bloodline, the eldest grandson of Grand Vizier Ludwig.”

Tao De pondered for a moment, then mouthed, “And?”

“Raymond Peter assassinated his fiancée, Shirley, but never received the punishment he deserved. He has been unable to resolve the resentment in his heart, which is why he left House Ludwig, took the alias Godfrey, and became a Ranger. Perhaps he hopes to heal his own heartache by renouncing his family identity… The Peter family’s whelp killed the woman he loved, yet as a direct descendant of House Ludwig, he was unable to get justice for his own fiancée. His family status brought him an indelible shame. How could he possibly continue on his Knight’s Path? From the looks of it, unless he forges a new path for himself, he won’t be returning to House Ludwig.”

Tao De’s eyes gradually lit up. He mouthed, “You want to induce Godfrey to assassinate Raymond, and then have someone rescue Raymond to gain his trust… And the candidate for the secret agent?”

Paul’s lips curled into a smile. He mouthed, “An old acquaintance of yours… the former magistrate of Stonetooth City, the exiled Knight Wamon of House DeWeimik.”

“Wamon? Heh, he is indeed a good choice.” Tao De gave a silent laugh, then frowned and mouthed, “What if Godfrey actually manages to kill Raymond? What then?”

Paul’s smile was elegant, but his eyes were cold as steel. He mouthed, “Then we’ll just kill him… The Peter family’s whelp once sent assassins after Master Randell.”

Tao De lowered his head, a cruel line forming at the corner of his mouth, revealing a flash of white teeth.

“Understood… I will give it my all.”

Chapter 572: A Reminder

Late in the second month of the Season of Wind, on the Three Forks Plain in Brinol.

Vast fields of wheat formed a magnificent golden ocean, rippling as the seasonal winds swept over them. Countless farmers swung their scythes, reaping the joys of a bumper harvest in the brilliant sea. Along the tree-lined road, flanked by round jujube trees, stood rows of two-wheeled light oxcarts. Farmers drove donkeys pulling simple sledges, loading the harvested wheat onto the carts. The oxcarts, some empty, some full, formed an endless, flowing line along the road.

Just then, two cavalrymen in glittering scale armor, holding long lances adorned with colorful ribbons, came galloping from the distance. Without them even needing to shout an order, the farmers by the roadside began yelling for the oxcarts to pull over and clear the way. They swiftly shoveled away any cow dung from the road, and the once-busy, crowded path was instantly empty.

It was as if a signal had been given. The farmers toiling in the wheat fields dropped their scythes and rushed to the roadside. Ignoring the rebukes of the farm stewards, they craned their necks, looking with anticipation and curiosity in the direction the cavalry had come from.

Before long, a convoy approached at high speed. It consisted of three standard noble carriages, two large, slatted passenger and cargo wagons, and four supply wagons. The first noble carriage was engraved with a silver moon and a nightingale, the one in the middle bore a sigil of crossed fangs, and the last carriage was a standard-issue vehicle of the Church. The livestock pulling them were all tall and sturdy heavy draft horses. The pair pulling the central carriage were especially magnificent—their coats were a flawless white, their figures full and graceful, their gait steady and powerful. They wore purple-gold horseshoes and colorful plumes on their heads, appearing divine and noble.

Among the crowd of onlookers were many who knew their horses, and they were all deeply puzzled. The two white horses showed traces of crossbreeding; they were clearly not valuable pureblood draft horses. Yet they were simply too beautiful. Even the most famous Karla pureblood draft horses would pale in comparison. The difference between them was like that between a true noble and a vassal.

However, most people were focused on the two columns of cavalry escorting the convoy—or more accurately, the giant birds they rode, which had captured everyone’s attention.

“Wow, what huge chickens…”

“Have you ever seen a chicken that big? Is that a chicken? They’re clearly a type of bird.”

“Ignorant country bumpkin… If it can’t fly, it’s a chicken. If it can fly, it’s a bird. Since people are riding them, they can’t be birds.”

“A head that’s been sat on by a donkey’s arse will never smarten up… Has your chicken never laid an egg on your roof? You’ve never seen these giant birds, so how do you know they can’t fly?”

“A head that’s been squeezed between a cow’s haunches is full of nothing but manure… An old cat can get on the roof too, does that mean it can fly? If these big chickens could fly, why would they be running on the ground instead of flying in the sky?”

“You’re the one with a donkey’s arse for a head!”

“You’re the one with a cow’s arse for a head!”

The convoy gradually receded into the distance, and the two farmers who had been trading insults finally came to blows.

Although it was the convoy of a minor family, and although they hadn’t seen the nobles inside the carriages, the giant, strange birds and the soldiers who rode them were still a novel topic of conversation. The farmers chatted excitedly about the strange birds as they hurried back to the fields to continue the harvest.

Inside the central carriage, Sylvia watched with great interest through the curtained window as the farmers doffed their hats to the carriage before leaving the road in twos and threes to return to the wheat fields.

“Mortals love to admire nobles and clergy. We understand this as the attraction of the extraordinary.”

She turned her flawless profile, her eyes, as blue and vast as the sky, reflecting the image of her lover beside her. “How does the great scholar, His Highness Randell, interpret this phenomenon?” she asked in a sweet voice.

Victor was looking over a parchment scroll. Without raising his head, he said, “Living beings absorb external Laws and convert them into an internal part of themselves. Therefore, the consciousness of intelligent beings has an instinctive need to interact with external Laws.”

Swish. The letter in his hands disappeared without a trace. His Highness Randell looked up, baffled, to see Sylvia holding the letter and looking at him with a faint smile. Her red lips parted slightly. “Is the letter more beautiful than I am?”

Her feigned anger was utterly charming.

A warmth stirred in Victor’s heart. He reached out, wrapped an arm around Sylvia’s slender waist, and explained with a smile, “Intelligent humans have an instinct to gather external information. In layman’s terms, they enjoy watching a spectacle and hearing news. A person who is ignorant of external information is uninformed, and being uninformed signifies a lower level of being. Take a mammoth, for example. It’s a hundred times stronger than an ordinary hunter, but it doesn’t know what lies ahead or what’s behind it. It will often fall into a hunter’s trap and become meat for the carving. That’s why being omniscient and omnipotent is the highest standard for a deity, and omniscience comes before omnipotence. Intelligent beings worship omniscience, and humans are no exception. Nobles and clergy have more comprehensive information than farmers, so of course they admire us. Conversely, what they see and hear is reported back to their liege lord, enriching the lord’s information and knowledge. Without seeing us himself, he’ll know who we are, how many of us there are, and how many Swiftbirds we have with us as we pass through his territory.”

Leaning against Victor’s chest, Sylvia praised him softly, “All liege lords know that their subjects are our eyes, ears, mouths, and noses, our shields and our sharp arrows, yet no one can articulate it as interestingly and exquisitely as you. My conviction is to protect my family, but it’s a simple matter for a Spirit Knight to roam the Elemental Sea. My understanding of protecting my family wasn’t deep enough; I was merely following the experiences of my predecessors. After hearing your interpretation of the world’s Laws, I now understand: I am the family, and the family is me.”

“My connection to the world has grown stronger… Darling, it is you who has allowed me to unlock greater power.”

After kissing Victor on the lips, Sylvia asked tenderly, “My love, in fifteen days, we will stand shoulder to shoulder behind the King and the Queen. Are you looking forward to it?”

Fifteen days from now was the wedding of Edward and Angelina. Before that, Edward Auguste, representing Gambis, would officially bestow upon Victor the title of Protector of the Kingdom. From then on, Victor would no longer be required to kneel before the king and would become one of the most powerful figures in the Kingdom of Gambis. The distribution of interests within the kingdom would still be decided through negotiation among the elder families, but the kingdom’s overall foreign policy would be determined entirely by the Protectors. This included matters of war and expansion, and even the king had no right to oppose a consensus reached by the Protectors. Without the support of the Gold Knights, the kingdom was simply incapable of waging a full-scale war.

This was why the Sasan Empire had deliberately spread rumors that they were preparing to seek Roland Auguste’s hand in marriage for their future Empress. Even though the York and Auguste families were suspicious of each other at the time, Marquess Golan still had to invite Sylvia to discuss countermeasures.

In a situation where the royal family lacked a Gold Knight, the Protectors could even decide the royal succession to ensure the kingdom’s noble bloodline would not be severed. Only if the royal bloodline was truly beyond recovery would the Protectors disband, leading to the end of a dynasty. The Gold Bloodline of the Randt imperial family was severed by the Radiant Knights, yet the Randt Empire endured for over four hundred years—a perfect example.

In a way, Edward and Angelina’s wedding celebration was borrowing momentum from His Highness Randell. Patriarch Tamor himself would officiate their wedding, and the highnesses of various kingdoms were sending envoys to attend the celebration, primarily to congratulate Victor on joining their ranks.

Ordinarily, for such a grand occasion, Victor should have traveled to Blinor City earlier. But he had been busy teaching the Source Blood Secret Art to the Ferocious Warriors in the Centaur Hills. He spent over three months improving the third iteration of the Source Blood Secret Art, and now it only needed the support of Tofwen the Wizard’s potions to grant a Vital Tenacity Talent.

Although there had been some delay, it was not a major issue. If Victor and Sylvia traveled without a retinue, they could get from Goldwater City to the Royal Capital in a day at most and would certainly not miss the King’s wedding. Duke York and the representatives of his vassal families had already arrived in Blinor City a month and a half earlier. The iron brick samples he brought with him had already caused quite a stir among the envoys of the various nations. Victor, accompanied by Lilia, Caligula, and a few young attendants, set out with Sylvia. They forwent any unnecessary ceremony and pageantry, traveling light. It took them only fourteen days to cross through Longbridge Town on the West Blinor River. From there, they followed the river north for another four days, and the magnificent Blinor City was already in sight.

Victor shook his head. “Compared to being in the spotlight, I’m more looking forward to meeting the Aerie Fortress Wizard.”

Sylvia pursed her lips into a smile and said teasingly, “Is that so? I’m more looking forward to seeing the child in Duchess Catherine’s belly… I’m just afraid the Auguste family won’t let me get close to them.”

Victor’s expression froze. He forced a dry laugh. “Darling, that’s not what I meant…”

“That’s not what you meant, huh?” Sylvia blinked her beautiful eyes and said with feigned grievance, “You never even mention Catherine or the child in her belly to me… Don’t tell me you don’t miss them at all. You’re worried I’ll be jealous and don’t want me to see them.”

Victor explained guiltily, “That’s not it… I’m just worried about putting Catherine in a difficult position. I… Darling, you know I would never doubt you, but I can’t control what the Auguste family thinks, can I?”

Sylvia giggled and said dotingly, “Darling, you’re so cute when you’re flustered. I, for one, think Aerie Fortress would rather let me visit Catherine and her daughter than let you meet with them.”

Victor’s face changed in an instant. “They dare!” he said, incensed.

“If you can’t bear to part with that child, and if I were Golan, I wouldn’t dare let His Highness Randell and Catherine meet frequently either.”

Victor’s handsome face fell. “Are you reminding me of something?” he said, disgruntled.

Stroking her lover’s face, Sylvia said seriously, “You must recognize what that child means to the Auguste family, and you must also understand the pressure your power and influence put on them. By following the partner principles, you might be able to maintain a close relationship with Catherine and her daughter… My love, we will have our own child. We will raise him, teach him, and dote on him together… And as a Protector of Gambis, you are also sheltering Catherine and her daughter. Isn’t that wonderful?”

Victor’s expression softened. He took Sylvia’s delicate hand and asked with a frown, “How did you know Catherine is having a daughter?”

Sylvia said softly, “An ordinary woman takes nine months to carry a child, and they can’t decide the child’s gender. A high-ranking female knight carries her offspring for a full sixteen months, and she can decide whether the child in her womb is a boy or a girl. The Gale Bloodline is notoriously difficult to maintain. In this regard, female Gale Knights have an advantage over males and can integrate more easily into the Auguste family. If I’m not mistaken, your and Catherine’s daughter will marry a descendant of Williams. This way, the Augustes will have two noble bloodlines: one of a true king, and one of a Guardian.”

“As for me, I will definitely have a son, and he will be a Legendary-rank Earth Knight. Let’s let Trisley and Nicole have daughters,” Sylvia said, shifting into a more comfortable position, her voice full of longing.

“But most of the Stormwind Paladins of the Testier family are male,” Victor said, unconvinced.

“That’s because of the Paladin’s Mark of Light,” Sylvia chuckled. “Don’t forget, the Moon Elves revere females. And the Iron Mountain Empire is structured with one imperial family and four of the empress’s kin-families. The Baselius imperial family is of Empress Verodica’s bloodline, but aren’t those four kin-families all of Sword Saint Draven’s Gold Bloodline? So, in the future, the House of Randell will be all female earls, unless they are willing to give up your Gold Bloodline.”

Victor sighed and said with a wry smile, “I can’t worry about things that far off. As long as the House of Randell has an heir, that’s enough.”

Sylvia’s eyes shone brightly. She bit her lip and seized the opportunity. “Then let’s manage what’s right in front of us… For the sake of political stability and succession, I would still advise you to become partners with Catelyn. In the future, you will not only have to lead the York family, but might also have to support the political continuity of the Gambis Kingdom. To avoid inheritance disputes, your union with Katerina is very necessary.”

Victor frowned, displeased. “I will consider it, and that’s all. But I promise you, I will support your arrangements for the family succession. Besides, you may not perish before I do. I am currently trying to solve the problem of a Spirit Knight’s soul being eroded by the Elemental Sea.”

Sylvia sighed inwardly. Victor had a politically immature side, but when it came to personal feelings, he was so moving and captivating.

She waved the sheepskin letter in her hand, changing the subject. “Clement has transferred Lazarus’s student, Dimik, to be the bishop of Borui’s Blue Gull Harbor. What are your thoughts on this?”

Victor looked at the pile of sheepskin letters beside him and thought for a long time before shaking his head. “Now I’m really a bit worried. Could Clement have sensed that I have plans to build a port by the sea?”

Chapter 573: The Uncrowned King

Victor wanted to cultivate a force in the Eastern Alliance for two reasons. First, he suspected that Wizards of the Masked Brotherhood had unearthed ruins of the Alchemical Empire’s civilization there. Second, His Highness Randall had yet to taste this world’s seafood.

For the time being, Victor had no intention of mentioning the first reason to anyone. The second reason, too, was not something he wanted more people to know about at the moment.

The ocean itself held an inexhaustible supply of fish and aquatic resources. Even if the lands of the Eastern Alliance were barren and desolate, Victor only needed to secure a few outlets on its coastline to support hundreds of thousands of people. The fleet from the Centaur Hills could sail straight down the river, then use the seaports of the Eastern Alliance to resupply and rest. The mercenary legions of the Centaur Hills could travel north along the coastline, bypass the Nidam Great Marsh, and enter the fertile Northern Wildlands. If the fleet sailed south, it could freely choose a landing point along the coast of the Southern Continent.

Controlling the shipping rights of the Goldwater River and the seaports of the Eastern Alliance meant that the Centaur Hills would possess much greater strategic flexibility. After hearing Victor’s detailed explanation, Sylvia was deeply impressed and decided to fully support his plan for an outlet to the sea.

The plan consisted of two main parts. The first was to build port nodes on the North Shore of the Goldwater River in the name of the Golden Company, ensuring that the Centaur Hills fleet could use the monsoon winds to return from the Great Borean Bend to Port Rose in the Centaur Hills. These planned ports included the Lake Fies port in Randt Imperial territory, Fort Lake Harbor in the Eastern Alliance near the Kingdom of Sus, and an intermediate river port between the Great Borean Bend and Fort Lake Harbor, which was also within the Eastern Alliance, close to the Borrey United Kingdom’s sphere of influence.

Second, the Centaur Hills had to pre-position a political force near the Eastern Alliance coastline. When the Centaur Hills fleet sailed down the river, into the sea, and then north along the coast, the two forces would rendezvous on the Eastern Alliance shore and establish an enclave for the Centaur Hills in one fell swoop.

If Victor’s previous strategic maneuvers had emphasized outward expansion and mutually beneficial coexistence, qualifying as temperate diplomacy, then the Sea Access Plan was a hegemonic strategy that bared his fangs. The easy target he was preparing to squeeze was the Eastern Alliance, a region that Sus, Borea, and the Inquisition regarded as their own private domain. Victor might even have to fight a war with the Borrey United Kingdom.

Victor was determined to fight for sea power, even at the cost of war. But to win a war for maritime rights, he had to be thoroughly prepared. This included establishing the legitimacy of the war, dismantling the alliance of interests between Borea, Sus, and the Inquisition, and stockpiling Thorium ore to build thorium warships, among other measures. In fact, the internal conflicts of the Radiant Knights gave Victor an opening. The Grand Commander of the Radiant Knights would rather the Trigovar family develop their secular power in the Northern Wildlands than tolerate them hiding away in the Eastern Alliance, watching their comrades risk their lives on the front lines. This would cause a schism within the Radiant Knights and challenge the Testier family’s leadership. For the high-ranked priests of the Holy See, this was also a perfect opportunity for the Curia to reclaim the power of religious inquisition. For these reasons, Clement was very welcoming of Victor and Sylvia extending their reach into the Eastern Alliance, hoping that the power of the Centaur Hills could open up the situation there.

As Sylvia had expected, upon receiving her letter, Clement provided many conveniences. He even had Bishop Pello deliver maps and information about the Eastern Alliance.

However, the key to the Sea Access Plan’s success was secrecy. If the plan were leaked beforehand, the Pope would, one hundred percent of the time, choose to cooperate with the Boreans instead. The Boreans, seeing the enormous benefits of sea power, would not hesitate to fall out with the Inquisition to swallow half of the Eastern Alliance. In this way, Clement would achieve his goal while avoiding a conflict between the Centaur Hills and the Kingdom of Borea.

Victor shook his head and said with some vexation, “My dear, if we’re being so secretive, the Pope will certainly grow curious about our goals. Any help he gives us is actually a series of probes. Look, Pello sent someone with a map, and on it are all the areas in the Eastern Alliance that the Church has confirmed as suitable for human settlement. The locals call them ‘Grass Sea Islets.’ Aside from the islets in the west, south, and north that are controlled by humans, the remaining unclaimed ones are mainly concentrated in the east, near the sea. And Blue Gull Harbor happens to be at the easternmost end of the Kingdom of Borea, faintly forming a line with the unclaimed islets in the east. Clement sending Dimik there to preside over church affairs in Blue Gull Harbor—isn’t that a test to see if we will develop the Grass Sea Islets on the eastern coast?”

Sylvia sat up straight, raised a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, and said with a smile, “Besides the unclaimed Grass Sea Islets in the east, where else could we possibly occupy? What’s more, we were already planning to control the easternmost coastline of the Eastern Alliance. The Kingdom of Borea has four port cities on the North Shore of the Goldwater River, and Blue Gull Harbor is the easternmost. There are also many Fishmen tribes there. Blue Gull Harbor is less a port and more a military town to block the Fishmen’s westward advance. Of the four ports, Blue Gull Harbor has the smallest permanent population, just over twenty thousand people, which is less than your Laketon. Clement’s faction of high-ranked priests has already handed over the Borean large diocese to Tamor. As Archbishop Lazarus’s confidant, Dimik could only be assigned to preside over the church affairs of the least influential Blue Gull Harbor.”

“My dear, I think you’re overthinking things.”

Victor was silent for a moment before saying, “I admit what you say makes sense. But we need at least twenty years to lay the groundwork in the Eastern Alliance, and Clement’s probing won’t stop. If he realizes we’re preparing for war, he will definitely sabotage our Sea Access Plan.”

Sylvia shook her head and said, “I’m not so sure… My dear, why don’t you tell me in detail about the mountain folk strongholds? I want to understand their population patterns and the measures you’ve taken.”

The mountain folk strongholds controlled by the Golden Company were a vital part of the Sea Access Plan. The population and soldiers Victor would deploy to the Eastern Alliance would come primarily from these strongholds. It was precisely because the initial phase of the Sea Access Plan didn’t require direct investment from the Centaur Hills, greatly alleviating the military burden on Goldwater City, that Sylvia had agreed to Victor’s scheme.

The southern expansion strategy of the Centaur Hills definitely took precedence over the Sea Access Plan.

Sylvia was not in the habit of micromanaging everything, so she hadn’t inquired too deeply into the specific details of the mountain folk strongholds at the time.

For a moment, Victor couldn’t figure out the intrinsic connection between the mountain folk strongholds and Clement’s stance, but he explained everything in detail.

“The population pattern of a mountain folk stronghold is not fundamentally different from that of a village. The resources of the mountain hunting grounds determine the population size of the mountain stronghold. When the number of newborns in the stronghold increases, the mountain folk hunters need to expand their hunting and gathering range, which greatly increases the risk of encountering fierce beasts and monster tribes. Casualties among the adult mountain folk then reduce the stronghold’s population. The population of a stronghold basically remains in a state of balance.”

“For the sake of survival, the mountain folk have many unwritten customs. For example, experienced old hunters organize many small hunting squads to hunt on the edge of the hunting grounds. Although the hunting squads don’t have the ability to defeat ferocious beasts and monsters, they can disperse the risk and prevent the stronghold’s hunters from being wiped out. When danger is encountered, the old hunters will not hesitate to stay behind as a rearguard or to lure the monsters away, buying the younger hunters a chance to escape. They almost never survive… Those elderly mountain folk women who have lost their fertility will gather nuts and wild vegetables in the farthest parts of the forest, and they are also particularly vulnerable to beast attacks.”

Victor paused, his voice turning somewhat somber. “If a stronghold has bad luck and a powerful monster invades its hunting grounds, causing casualties among the able-bodied hunters to exceed forty percent, the stronghold is basically lost. The mountain folk will abandon their homes and flee to an intermarried stronghold. Although this will cause food shortages in the receiving stronghold, the mountain folk never hesitate to extend a helping hand to those in distress. However, for strangers who encounter a mountain folk hunting squad, this custom is tantamount to barbaric plunder.”

He said with a smile, “When mountain folk encounter strangers, they usually capture them and take them back to the stronghold to arrange a spouse for them. If they don’t comply, the mountain folk will subdue them, strip them of all their clothes, take all their supplies, and leave them to fend for themselves in the wilderness. This is because the mountain folk believe that anyone who refuses to return to the stronghold with them will sooner or later be eaten by beasts. As a result, many refugees have been tied up and brought to the strongholds during their migrations.”

“The benefits of doing so are obvious. The bloodline of new members can prevent the deformities brought about by inbreeding. In fact, four or five strongholds intermarry and watch over each other, forming a great hunting ground. When one stronghold has a problem, the others take in the refugees, build up their strength, and then try to reclaim that water source. You could say that the mountain folk fortified villages effectively curb the expansion of monster tribes.”

“From my standpoint, the mountain folk possess the precious qualities of being resilient, tenacious, brave, and valiant,” Victor commented.

A charming smile graced Sylvia’s lips as she interjected, “That’s because you have tens of thousands of mountain folk under your command, scattered in the deep mountain forests of Gambis, Dodor, and the Sasan Empire. You are their uncrowned king.”

Victor laughed heartily, saying with high spirits, “I can indeed be called their uncrowned king. The smuggling caravans under my command have brought immense changes to the mountain folk villages. They taught the mountain folk techniques for planting ground-potatoes and raising wild boars, as well as medical knowledge. They provide regular supplies and military equipment, connecting the different stronghold groups. Young mountain folk men and women follow the smuggling caravans to marry into other stronghold groups far away, solving the problem of inbreeding. The mountain folks’ living conditions have improved, the infant mortality rate has dropped, their average lifespan has increased by five years, and the population of the strongholds has soared… which in turn has brought me a huge burden.”

“The water sources in the strongholds are limited and cannot irrigate many ground-potato fields. For reasons of secrecy and control, I forbid my men from helping the mountain folk build stream reservoirs. The population of the strongholds has exceeded the capacity of their hunting grounds. Now that they have the smuggling caravans to rely on, they are begging my men to help them open up new hunting grounds and settlements.”

A glint flashed in Sylvia’s eyes. “And you agreed?” she asked in surprise.

Victor spread his hands and said with a wry smile, “Could I refuse? It’s already hard for me to turn back… Right now, eighty percent of my smuggling mercenaries are young mountain folk hunters, and their ties to the strongholds are hard to sever. Since they work for me, and I’ve spent so much money on the strongholds, I can’t just leave it at that, can I?”

“The smuggling caravans attack Gnoll-occupied water sources, relocate mountain folk, and build new strongholds. These strongholds are located deep in the mountains, far from the villages of any lord, and they haven’t formed mutually supportive stronghold clusters. They are isolated, with no source of aid other than the smuggling caravans. I have to purchase military equipment to arm them and send smuggling caravans to regularly patrol the new strongholds and fight off the Gnoll tribes. Most of the Golden Company’s income is spent on these new strongholds. The annual net income is less than ten thousand Gold Sols.”

Victor sighed long and deep, saying dejectedly, “From the perspective of a commercial noble, Sophia’s request for me to abandon the mountain folk strongholds was quite perceptive…”

Sylvia gave a cold snort and pressed, “How much money did you invest, and how many new strongholds did you build?”

“Uh… There should be fifty-three new strongholds now. The profits from the smuggled coffee have basically all been spent.”

“How much money, specifically?”

“About five hundred thousand Gold Sols, I suppose. Maybe not that much…”

“Heh, five hundred thousand Gold Sols, all spent on the mountain folk… My dear, you really are rich.” Her smile was like a blooming flower, but her pearly white teeth shone with a dangerous light.

Victor loved Sylvia’s gentle red lips, but he certainly didn’t want to be bitten hard by them. He quickly launched into self-rescue mode, stroking his smooth chin and saying with a profound gaze:

“Well, these new strongholds are isolated from the world, and the mountain folk are completely dependent on me. They possess the qualities of being hardworking, resilient, and brave. As long as I instill the concept of loyalty in them and teach them the Source Blood Secret Art, they will become exceptionally fine soldiers… Each new stronghold is equivalent to one of my retainer training camps. Most importantly, their faith in the Lord of Radiance is shallow, the Church’s influence on them is very low, and they themselves are outside the sight of the Church and the lords. They don’t even know who I am. You could say this is a reliable and useful secret force.”

Sylvia’s mock anger turned to delight. She leaned in to offer him a sweet kiss and giggled, “My dear, you are the most far-sighted person I have ever met.”

Victor shook his head and sighed, “Initially, I was just trying to earn high profits from coffee. I never expected things to turn out like this.”

Sylvia said, “The fundamental reason lords are unwilling to accept the mountain folk’s identity is that their territories cannot accommodate too many people. Although lords now see refugees as wealth, migrating the mountain folk would lead to a rampant increase in Gnoll and Goblin populations. And helping the mountain folk establish new settlements would mean sacrificing the family’s soldiers and apprentice knights. Apart from Naville, no lord is willing to get involved in a troublesome matter like the mountain folk.”

“The reason you’ve done what ordinary lords are unwilling to do is because you have Mystic Warriors at your disposal, isn’t it?”

Victor nodded in agreement with Sylvia’s statement and smiled. “In any case, we now control tens of thousands of mountain folk, and we can continuously dispatch secret forces to the Eastern Alliance. It’s only a matter of time before we seize a Grass Sea Islet near the eastern coast.”

“This situation is as if from the same mold as when you established the mountain folk strongholds,” Sylvia said.

“Why don’t the Boreans build seaports and travel by sea? It’s said that coastal Fishmen are stronger, larger, and more numerous than river Fishmen. The Boreans are unwilling to fight a war of attrition with them. Their warships are not designed for sea travel, nor can they make beach-head landings in areas dense with coastal Fishmen. However, the coastal Fishmen have no ability to fight back against the infantry phalanxes of a Grand Legion. We have a standardized Grand Legion, capable of easily doing what the Boreans are unwilling to do. This is our initiative.”

“Priest Dimik belongs to Clement’s faction, but he is not Clement; he has his own political ambitions. A bishop can be promoted to Cardinal by accumulating merit, as long as he makes no mistakes. The Sasan Empire has three large dioceses, and Tamor’s faction now occupies four, while Clement’s faction has lost two. Although they still hold an advantage in terms of seats in the Curia for now, in the long run, Clement’s faction is in a very unfavorable position. Clement has placed his bets on us and the people of Naville, hoping we can win at least four new large dioceses for them in the great expansion. If we can help them open up a new large diocese in the Eastern Alliance, Dimik will be the biggest beneficiary. He would choose to support us, and Clement would turn a deaf ear. Because he owes Lazarus a seat in the Curia. Otherwise, why would he place Dimik in the dead-end post of Blue Gull Harbor?”

It suddenly dawned on Victor. He nodded and said, “Both principled and flexible—that is the mark of a mature political leader.”

Sylvia reminded him, “My dear, the situation in the Eastern Alliance is very complex. Even with Dimik looking out for us in secret, we cannot be careless. The exiled nobles Clement selected for us can be placed in the open to attract the attention of the Inquisition, the Kingdom of Borea, and the Kingdom of Sus. The down-and-out ranger you’re backing can directly develop the unclaimed Grass Sea Islets in the east. You don’t need to have too many concerns about that, and it will paradoxically make it harder for them to discover our true intentions.”

“Mm, you’re right. We will simultaneously maneuver the exiled nobles to choose settlement sites on the North Shore of the Goldwater River, while luring the ranger nobles into the uninhabited eastern areas, avoiding the Inquisition’s sight, to establish isolated encampments similar to the mountain folk strongholds.”

Just then, the happy laughter of the little attendant could be heard from outside the carriage. Victor pulled aside the curtain and saw the majestic silhouette of Blinor City standing on the distant horizon. He said calmly:

“Once our fleet sails into the Great River Bend… the established powers of the Eastern Alliance will simply be swept aside.”

Chapter 1: Temporary Notice

“

A family member had a sudden asthma attack, and I have just returned from the hospital. I am taking leave for yesterday and today. Updates will resume tomorrow. Please accept my sincerest apologies.

“

Chapter 574: The Iron Brick Feast (Part 1)

In the Nobles’ District of Blinor City, inside the reception room of the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence.

Sophia, dressed in magnificent Marquess’s ceremonial robes with her vibrant purple hair coiled up, sat in the main seat, personally receiving a visitor from the Teutonic Duchy—Earl Griel Moon Bear.

Unlike the handsome and elegant nobles common in the south, Earl Moon Bear was tall and brawny, with thick hair and a rugged complexion weathered by wind and snow. His features were sharp, his eyes a pale brown that was nearly gray, and his face was ruddy. A polished reindeer-hide band was tied around his broad forehead, and his long golden hair and beard were braided into small plaits, each secured with a bear-tooth clasp.

This unique attire immediately identified him as a man of the North, while his perfect, symmetrical build and features indicated he was an Extraordinary Knight.

The mental state and personality of a High-ranked Knight determine their demeanor and appearance. Griel possessed the ruggedness and frankness of a northerner. His voice boomed as he said:

“Sophia, we are old friends. I have only two requests. First, lend our Moon Bear family two million Gold Sol. Second, do not provide guarantees for any other family in the Sasan Empire. Sophia, if you help us this one time, I promise you on my brother’s behalf that the Moon Bear family will repay you generously.”

Two million Gold Sol was no small sum, but it was not an amount the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence couldn’t produce. What troubled Sophia was Earl Moon Bear’s second request.

The matter had begun a month ago. Duke York had invited representatives from all the great families to a banquet at the Duke’s mansion. As the evening drew to a close, Duke York had a unique decorative dish placed on every guest’s plate—a dark red iron brick.

Iron bricks, as hard as iron! A name personally coined by Lady Sylvia!

These iron-hard bricks instantly plunged the banquet’s climax into a heavy, oppressive silence, like the air before a downpour. The distinguished guests said nothing, each leaving the Duke’s residence with the iron brick from their plate. That very night, the Baselius family’s Griffin Knights, Emperor Friedrich and the Church’s Horned Wolf cavalry, Dodor’s Unicorn Knights, the Naville Sword Mantis Knights, and the Teutonic Duchy’s Dire Moon Bear Knights all departed from Blinor City. The representatives from the great families of the Kingdom of Sus and the Kingdom of Borea, lacking aberrant war beast mounts, simply dispatched Silver Knights or senior knights to carry the iron bricks back to their countries overnight, arriving no slower than those on aberrant war beasts.

That same night, Edward Auguste, in the King’s name, summoned Duke York to the palace for an audience. Early the next morning, Patriarch Tamor personally visited the York family’s residence and held a secret discussion with the Duke that lasted the entire morning.

No one dared to inquire about the content of the talks between Aerie Fortress, the Church, and Duke York. On the surface, Blinor City remained as calm as ever. However, ten days later, Duke Ludwig, a Gold Knight from Dodor, arrived in the Royal Capital of Gambis. Fourteen days later, Duke York’s birth mother, Countess Dori Dekeizer of the Kingdom of Naville, graced Blinor City with her presence. It was the first time she had set foot in the Kingdom of Gambis in over twenty years.

Clearly, both Duke Ludwig and Countess Dekeizer had come for the iron bricks. What was suspicious was that they did not visit Duke York, nor Patriarch Tamor, nor did they even meet with the representatives of the other families from their own countries. In fact, ever since the iron brick banquet, the representatives of the various kingdoms had kept to themselves, and all social activities in the Nobles’ District of Blinor had ceased.

Sophia knew this was because the iron bricks were of monumental importance; the Church and all the great families were determined to obtain them. And while Duke York usually played the fool, beneath his flamboyant and vain exterior lay a treacherous and cunning heart. In short, he was quite shameless. On a matter of this magnitude, approaching him to negotiate would yield no results and would only allow him to probe one’s own bottom line. Everyone was patiently waiting for the York family to show their first card. If their terms were too harsh, it would not be too late to join forces and apply pressure. But before that, no one was willing to be the first to stick their neck out, scurrying about to form alliances. That would anger the two Highnesses of the Centaur Hills, and they might find themselves eliminated from the game early on.

On the eve of Sylvia and Victor’s arrival in Blinor City, which was to say, last night, Duke York held another grand banquet. He publicly announced that the design for the giant brick kiln and the process for making iron bricks would be presented to the House of Auguste as Angelina Branstat York’s dowry. At the same time, he would sell the related technology to one family from each of the other kingdoms for the price of 600,000 Gold Sol, with the sole exception of the Sasan Empire, whose family would have to pay 2,400,000 Gold Sol.

For the major powers, being able to purchase the technology for the giant brick kiln and iron bricks with money was the best possible outcome.

Duke Ludwig immediately agreed, with the Golden Dawn Sparrow family putting up 600,000 Gold Sol to purchase the iron brick technology on behalf of the Dodor Kingdom. His Highness Andre Christopher also bought the technology on behalf of the Borea Kingdom. They were the only two Gold Knights among the envoys of the various nations, and the other great families of Dodor and Borea were powerless to oppose their will, offering their congratulations to the Ludwig and Christopher families. In addition, Duke York personally designated the Dekeizer and Blanstedt families to purchase the rights for the Kingdom of Naville and the Kingdom of Sus, respectively. As for the Sasan Empire, the York family told the Sassans to first negotiate amongst themselves and decide which family would fund the purchase of the iron brick manufacturing process.

Early this morning, Earl Griel Moon Bear paid a visit to the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence.

The Teutonic Duchy could be considered the Wimbledon Merchant Association’s most important partner at present. Indeed, for a long time to come, the Moon Bear family would be of great significance to The Golden Company. Unless Sophia was willing to give up her monopoly on the barbarian trade, the Teutonic Duchy was a trade route and marketplace she could not afford to lose.

The Sasan Empire had a developed agricultural and pastoral economy, single-handedly supplying the grain and meat for the barbarian trade. The reindeer meat the Moon Bear family sold to Sophia accounted for forty percent of the meat trade, with the other sixty percent being mainly various cured meats. The barbarians couldn’t eat cured meat all year round, and cattle and sheep could not cross the northern tundra. If the Moon Bear family were to raise the price of reindeer meat even slightly, the Wimbledon Merchant Association would be unable to bear it.

However, Griel was asking the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence to take a side on an issue as momentous as the iron brick technology. Sophia was secretly annoyed and naturally did not show him a pleasant face. She said coldly:

“Which distinguished guest would attend the King’s wedding celebration carrying hundreds of thousands of Gold Sol? Duke Gold Dawn Sparrow, His Highness Christopher, Earl Blanstedt, and Countess Dekeizer have not paid the York family yet. The Moon Bear family doesn’t need to be in a hurry to pay either. As long as you reach an agreement with the other Sasan families and make a promise, Lady Sylvia isn’t worried you’d dare to renege on the debt… Griel, what do you mean by coming to see me?”

Griel Moon Bear paused for a moment before saying, “If I pay the money in full first, the matter will be settled.”

“So you’re saying you haven’t reached a consensus with the other families of the Sasan Empire?” Sophia arched a fine purple eyebrow, saying with displeasure, “In other words, if I show you favoritism, the Sasan Imperial family, the Baselius family, and the lords of the central Sasan territories will all hold a grudge against me?”

Earl Moon Bear toyed with a braid, saying nonchalantly, “Marchioness Wimbledon, you may not be a Highness, but you are no less formidable. You have the power to make a choice, so you must make one. If you will not support the Moon Bear family, then I can take my leave now.”

A flash of inspiration struck Sophia. She thought it over carefully, and a charming smile graced her lips.

“I was not aware beforehand that the Centaur Hills had invented the iron brick. But my husband has returned. With a single word, I can designate which family in the Sasan Empire has the right to purchase the iron brick technology. Even if you all reach a consensus, it will be useless… Griel, why should I support you?”

Earl Moon Bear spoke bluntly, “Because the Teutonic Duchy is in desperate need of the giant brick kiln and the iron brick technology. As you know, the northern tundra doesn’t have much wood, nor any decent stone quarries. If we dared to dig for stone on Mount Arreat, the barbarians would smash our heads in… There are countless Goat-people inside Mount Arreat. If they were to charge down one day, they would only shatter themselves to pieces against our iron brick fortresses! If Baselius or Friedrich were to buy the iron brick technology, it would cost the Teutonic Duchy a far greater price to possess iron brick fortresses, and perhaps it would no longer be a price paid in gold… Sophia, you would not wish to see us side with Baselius, nor would you want to see us side with Friedrich. Of course, I am also unwilling to choose a side for the sake of iron bricks, but if others have giant brick kilns and iron bricks, the Teutonic Duchy must have them as well.”

“Of course, we also don’t wish to offend the two great imperial houses. I will follow Duke York’s method of handling things and sell the iron brick process to Baselius and Friedrich separately for 800,000 Gold Sol. The Teutonic Duchy will continue to maintain its neutral position… That Fatty York has more schemes than a honeycomb. If he can sell the iron brick technology, so can we. Ludwig, Christopher, Dekeizer, and Blanstedt can all make a hefty profit.”

He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “But if the royal families of the various kingdoms buy the iron brick technology, they would never trade it for gold… I reckon selling the iron bricks to non-royal families was the result of the secret talk between Patriarch Tamor and Fatty York. Because we definitely wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret, so it’s better to resell it for gold… This way, every great family gets iron bricks, and there’s no need to fight.”

Earl Moon Bear’s explanation was reasonable, yet Sophia felt he was still holding something back, though she couldn’t guess what it was. But she was certain that The Golden Company did indeed need the central powers of the Sasan Empire to maintain their impartial political stance.

Sophia pondered for a moment, then her red lips parted slightly. “Princess Anqi of Bronze-Halberd City is your niece and also my good friend. Although Bronze-Halberd City is located in the southern part of the Sasan Empire, she also belongs to the lords of the central Sasan region.”

Griel thumped his chest and guaranteed, “Bronze-Halberd City does not have a Highness, but we will not let Anqi suffer a loss. Once the Teutonic Duchy obtains the iron brick technology, we will charge Bronze-Halberd City only 200,000 Gold Sol to resell the technology to her.”

“200,000 Gold Sol?”

“Sophia, iron bricks and giant brick kilns are not things that can be obtained with mere gold. 200,000 Gold Sol is already the lowest price… A family that cannot even afford this much is not qualified to manufacture iron bricks.”

“It seems the Moon Bear family is preparing to make a huge profit.” Sophia gave a beautiful smile, then changed the subject. “You owe me a favor.”

Earl Moon Bear was overjoyed. He stood up, placed a hand over his chest, and bowed to Sophia. “A favor from our Moon Bear family also cannot be bought with gold. In the future, if the Marchioness needs the Teutonic Duchy’s assistance with anything, you need only ask.”

Sophia rose gracefully, returned the bow, and made a small gesture of invitation. “There is no need to worry about purchasing the iron brick technology. My lord Earl, you may take your leave.”

Just before he left, Earl Moon Bear turned back and said, “Marchioness, you can decide the Teutonic Duchy’s qualification to purchase the giant brick kiln and iron bricks not because of your husband, but because the Centaur Hills has secretly lent you its power. Otherwise, the envoys of the Highnesses of the Radiant Knights would not have remained silent on such a major issue.”

Sophia watched Griel walk out of the front hall of the Marquess’s residence. After a long moment, she wrinkled her nose and muttered to herself with a pout, “Hmph, as if I needed you to tell me.”

Just then, Natalia, dressed in Water Lizard leather, directed a team of strong guards carrying several large water troughs into the courtyard of the residence. Seeing Sophia, she paused and instructed the guards, “Be careful, don’t spill any. Take them to the cisterns in the rear courtyard to be raised for now.”

Sophia approached, glancing into the troughs with curiosity. “Blinor Red Salmon? You were out all night just to catch these?”

“Yes,” Natalia said, looping her arm through Sophia’s with a grin. “Victor used to love my grilled red salmon the most. I took some men to the Blinor River and caught a few dozen four-foot-long red salmon to be the main course for tonight. By the way, you’re in your formal robes. Are you getting ready to welcome Victor? Wait for me, I’ll change, and we can go together.”

Sophia took Natalia’s hand and shook her head. “I’m not going to greet Victor. Earl Griel Moon Bear just visited the residence, that’s why I changed into formal wear.”

“Earl Moon Bear? What did he want with you?”

“…What else but the iron bricks.”

Sophia described the whole affair to Natalia, saying with a frown, “Though the Moon Bear family is powerful, their bloodline and the location of their territory mean they aren’t the leading family of the central Sasan powers. In fact, the central lords are somewhat wary of the Moon Bears. Aside from Bronze-Halberd City on the southernmost fringe, none of them are willing to form a marriage alliance with the Moon Bear family. Obtaining the iron brick technology will enhance their influence over the central lord families… The value of the York family’s iron bricks and giant brick kilns cannot be measured in Gold Sol. Sylvia and Victor couldn’t possibly fail to understand this… Tell me, the York family clearly had better options, so why are they selling the iron bricks and giant brick kilns to outsiders?”

Natalia blinked, bit her lip, and giggled. “When Victor gets back tonight… we’ll interrogate him.”

Sophia rolled her eyes in exasperation and said peevishly, “If he were willing to tell me, he wouldn’t have hidden it from me… To think they even leveraged the barbarians’ power to prevent the Radiant Knights from openly interfering.”

“But what does it matter?” Natalia said, unconcerned. “In any case, we don’t need iron bricks to build fortresses. Besides, the Moon Bear family owes you a favor, so we’ve benefited from the Centaur Hills’ maneuver. What’s more, Victor is a Highness now, and he will sooner or later transform completely into a Sun Elf. With him and Sylvia in the Centaur Hills, even without considering your position, the Radiant Knights would most likely have adopted a cautious attitude on the iron brick issue anyway.”

“Alright, alright, my dear Sophia, don’t think about these things.” Natalia took Sophia’s hand and started walking toward the main bedroom in the Inner Court, chuckling. “Help me pick a dress and a set of jewelry. Let’s go welcome Victor’s carriage.”

Sophia stood her ground, shaking her head with a sigh. “Victor won’t be staying at the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence… He is now a Guardian of the Centaur Hills. He will only stay at the York family’s residence with Sylvia.”

Natalia stopped in her tracks and said in surprise, “But… you’re his wife, and he’s our partner.”

“Victor will reunite with us,” Sophia said after a moment’s silence, a note of apology in her voice. “Actually, I don’t want to spend too much time with him either.”

“Why?” Natalia’s expression changed, her delicate brows knitting together as she pressed for an answer.

“In my current state, I can’t bear to be around forceful people,” Sophia said with a wry smile, shaking her head. “Victor… his gentleness is his personality, but his forcefulness is his will. Ever since he left the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence, he has been constantly carrying out his own ideas, always achieving his goals without anyone realizing it… I understand now. Being forceful isn’t about having a stern face; true strength is being able to lead you by the nose. His Highness Randall is that kind of person… Other than Sylvia, I doubt any high-ranking female knight could stand shoulder to shoulder with him. I’m a little afraid of being around him now. One moment of carelessness, and I’ll be led away by him…”

Natalia’s eyes widened. She looked the incomparably beautiful Sophia up and down, then moved closer and whispered in her ear, “Dear sister, are you serious? His Highness Randall is a Sun Elf. Isn’t it normal for him to make a mother like you submit to him? We agreed, your and Victor’s child will call me Mama too.”

Sophia let out a soft laugh, and her amethyst-like eyes flowed with a stunning brilliance.

“I never said I don’t want him… It’s just that now isn’t the right time to live with him every day. Once I advance to the Gold rank, it won’t matter anymore… However, I will certainly put it to the test. Let’s see if my husband can resist the charm of a Gold-rank, purple-eyed female knight!”

Chapter 575: The Iron Brick Feast

Aerie Fortress, Regent’s Council Chamber.

“This is an iron brick, fired according to the method provided by Duke York. It’s hard, heavy, smooth, and uniform—perfectly suited for building a castle. This proves that my wife, your Queen, Anna, her uncle is not a charlatan. He wasn’t lying—there really can be castles cast from iron.”

Fifteen-year-old King Edward Auguste, dressed in a brown tunic and trousers, held a freshly kilned iron brick in his hand. His face, smudged with soot and clay, beamed with a proud and excited smile, making him look just like a young craftsman showing off his first creation.

Grand Vizier Marquess Ludwig cupped a fist to his mouth and coughed once before stepping forward. “Your Majesty, no one here thought Duke York was a charlatan… I am very curious, who has been slandering the York family’s reputation in Your Majesty’s presence?”

“Ah?” Edward was completely taken aback. He hid the iron brick behind his back and said with a dry laugh, “I… The wind has been quite strong these past two days. I must have misheard.”

“Is there any need to ask?” Marquess Golan’s deep voice echoed through the council chamber. “Roland deliberately tricked the King into building a kiln and firing bricks in the palace garden by telling him that people in the court were speaking ill of Anna’s uncle. Hmph, now that the brick is fired, who knows where Roland has hidden himself?”

The Guardian of Aerie Fortress, knowing full well the Auguste family’s penchant for mischief and play, spoke again as the young king tried to inch his way toward the door. “Your Majesty, this is not a Privy Council Meeting, but since you are already here, you might as well stay and listen.”

Edward’s blue eyes darted around as he said with a sincere expression, “I… I’m covered in soot. I’d like to take a bath and change my clothes before coming back to listen to your discussion.”

“As I just said, this is not a Privy Council Meeting.” Marquess Golan gave the young king no chance to escape, pointing to the chair beside him. “Sit here.”

I’m such a fool. Sister tricked me again… Edward cursed his own stupidity while wracking his brain for an excuse to slip out of the council chamber. The last thing he wanted was to listen to the long-winded speeches of the great ministers of the court.

“Oh! Oh… Ouch…”

The young king suddenly clutched his stomach, secretly straining until his face turned red, and groaned in a pained voice, “My stomach hurts terribly… I must have eaten something bad… I’ll be heading back now…”

With that, he staggered toward a side door. Marquess Ludwig seemed to mutter to himself unintentionally, “Shouldn’t a stomachache make one’s face turn pale? Why is His Majesty Auguste’s face so red?”

Marquess Golan’s almost tangible gaze pricked his back. Edward’s teeth itched with resentment, and he secretly vowed to make Marquess Ludwig pay once he came of age. But then he realized that by the time he came of age, Marquess Ludwig would have long since returned to the embrace of the Lord of Radiance. The thought plunged the young king into despair, and he stood at the door with his back to the council chamber, silent.

“Edward, hmm, don’t dismantle the brick kiln in the palace garden. In a little while, I’d like to try firing a few iron bricks myself.”

“Of course, Uncle Williams.”

The young king was overjoyed. He shot out of the council chamber and disappeared in a flash.

Golan turned to look at the nonchalant Williams, remembering how this man on the throne had once thrown a tantrum, rolling on the floor at the age of fifteen. Edward’s act of faking a stomachache was child’s play in comparison to his own youthful antics.

“I really do want to try the Centaur Hills’ iron brick manufacturing process,” the Regent of Gambis said with a shrug and open palms, his face a mask of innocence.

The Guardian of the Auguste family grunted and turned to the commander of the Night Owl spies standing at attention nearby. “Walus, give us a summary of what the Night Owl has learned.”

“Over eight years ago, the York family publicly claimed that the giant brick kiln was invented by Baroness Phoenix’s brother, Sir Anthony York. However, the first giant brick kiln in the Centaur Hills appeared in the Randell Fief, and it is still producing green bricks to this day. There are ample signs indicating that His Highness Randall invented the first giant brick kiln.”

“Incredible!”

Marquess Ludwig shook his head. “I have seen the blueprints for the giant brick kiln. Its internal and external structures are incredibly ingenious and perfectly align with the principles of architecture. As far as I know, His Highness Randall has never studied architecture… Eight years ago, he wasn’t even twenty.”

“But he has the wisdom talent,” Walus interjected. “From what we know, with a single glance, His Highness Randall can accurately calculate the height, slope, and volume of the hills. On his way to assume his lordship, he first survived a surprise attack by Savage Gnolls, awakening his Wind Walk talent. After arriving in his territory, he discovered that the York family had not built him a castle at all, forcing him to camp on a hill with his followers. He was mentally and physically exhausted at the time and fainted once… We speculate that it was then that His Highness Randall’s Bloodline mutated, awakening his rare wisdom talent.”

The Grand Vizier stroked his chin and said reservedly, “I am not doubting His Highness Randall’s extraordinary wisdom. But architecture requires a significant accumulation of knowledge to design something like a giant brick kiln. I am more inclined to believe that His Highness Randall proposed a clear concept, and the scholar Anthony York helped him perfect the first giant brick kiln. After all, Baroness Phoenix is His Highness Randall’s close partner. It is perfectly reasonable that she would persuade her brother to help her lover.”

Williams rapped the table and asked with an amused smile, “Lord Ludwig, is there any point in pursuing this question?”

“There is!” Marquess Ludwig answered without hesitation. “Clarifying the sequence of events will help us judge subsequent developments. We must at least understand how much leverage Sir Anthony York holds in this Iron Brick Feast. Does he possess the blueprints for a giant brick kiln designed specifically for producing iron bricks? Anthony is merely a regular noble scholar. He has no ability to protect himself and is particularly vulnerable to the machinations of external powers.”

Marquess Golan exchanged a look with the Regent, then turned to the Night Owl commander. “Does the Night Owl have any information on Sir Anthony’s recent situation?”

“He has been supervising the construction of the Southern Fortress in the Centaur Hills. He is often with priests and has two Rose Knights by his side.”

Marquess Golan nodded. “It seems the York family takes Anthony’s personal safety very seriously, but that’s not enough.”

“I also doubt the York family’s ability to stop external powers, especially the Sasan Empire, from coveting the iron brick technology,” Williams said with a faint smile. “I am certain of one thing: even with two legendary Highnesses like Sylvia and Victor in the Centaur Hills, spies from the various kingdoms will be falling over themselves to infiltrate the Centaur Hills for intelligence, and Sir Anthony will be their primary target.”

Grand Vizier Ludwig chuckled. “Your Highnesses’ views are consistent with the judgment of the Office of the Court Scribes.”

Williams, controlling the pace of the conversation, waved his hand to stop the Grand Vizier from discussing the conclusions of the court’s think tank first. He turned and asked, “Can the Night Owl confirm who invented the iron brick?”

A bitter smile appeared on Walus’s face. He bowed and said, “Your Highness, before The Iron Brick Feast, the Night Owl didn’t even know that iron bricks existed in the Centaur Hills… However, we have re-examined the intelligence related to the giant brick kilns. His Highness Randall once reached an agreement for the procurement of green bricks with the Wellington and Nim families. A key part of the agreement was that after ten years of purchasing green bricks from the Centaur Hills, they would be given the blueprints for the giant brick kiln and the brick-making process. However, before the ten-year agreement was up, Duke York publicly displayed the iron bricks. This suggests that the York family did not possess the technology to produce iron bricks at the time. Rather, the York family, in order to break the blockade on the stone trade, assigned craftsmen to develop an iron brick capable of building fortresses. With Viscount Randell’s promotion to a Highness, the Centaur Hills has enough confidence to sell iron bricks and giant brick kilns while guaranteeing its own interests… The iron brick must have been invented later.”

Williams was noncommittal. He shifted his gaze to Marquess Ludwig and asked, “And what was the result of the Scribes’ discussions?”

“The York family must possess a technology superior to the iron brick—perhaps another type of iron brick, or another type of giant brick kiln.”

The Grand Vizier stepped forward, picked up an iron brick from the table, and said, “It is made from a ten-percent share of iron powder, a ten-percent share of stone powder, and an eighty-percent share of clay, mixed with a special straw pulp solution and fired in a kiln. The iron brick itself is exceptionally hard and heavy. According to our architects’ estimates, a fortress built with iron bricks would require a deeper foundation, which means an iron brick fortress cannot be as tall as a limestone fortress. Therefore, the construction cost of an iron brick fortress is not any cheaper than a traditional fortress… In fact, it would be difficult to popularize, because no kingdom could possibly have enough raw iron to produce iron bricks.”

“However, these shortcomings have little bearing on the practical use of iron bricks.”

“Transporting iron powder, stone powder, and firewood is certainly easier and faster than transporting stone blocks. Furthermore, the remaining eighty percent, the clay, can be sourced locally. While the height of an iron brick fortress is limited, it is more than sufficient to stop large beastmen who are poor climbers. As for the supply of raw iron, with the exception of the Sasan Empire, the other kingdoms all have large quantities of rusted and damaged ironware. These items can all be a source of iron powder. Moreover, an iron brick fortress only needs an outer layer of iron bricks, with the interior filled with green bricks, rubble, rammed earth, and mortar. This greatly reduces the amount of iron powder needed without compromising the fortress’s sturdiness.”

“Bricks as a building material have the advantages of being uniform, corrosion-resistant, and fire-resistant. The efficiency of building fortresses and towns with bricks is far greater than with limestone blocks. Nor does one need to consider resources like forests or quarries. As long as there is a water source and shrubbery for fuel, you can build wherever you want. Fortifications, production facilities, and residences can take shape very quickly. The only crucial factors are the output of the giant brick kilns, the quality of the bricks, and an abundant supply of fuel.”

“The strategic value of iron bricks and giant brick kilns cannot be measured in Gold Sols. If we possessed such technology, we would never trade it with the lords of the various kingdoms for mere coin. The Dodor Kingdom’s Dragonbone Steel is a key material for making ballistae, the Sasan Empire’s Centaur hide and wild red bull leather, Naville’s ores, Sus’s medicinal herbs and Mithril, and Borea’s Adamantine are all strategic resources we desperately need, and not things that money can buy. We would only use iron bricks paired with giant brick kilns to exchange for trade shares of these strategic resources.”

Smack!

Marquess Ludwig slammed the iron brick down on the table and said coolly, “For Enbise York to trade iron bricks for a few million Gold Sols, he’s being far too accommodating!”

After a moment, Marquess Golan said in a deep voice, “One doesn’t sell something so valuable so easily, unless they have something even better.”

Walus couldn’t help but interject, “My lord Ludwig, please forgive my bluntness. You may be underestimating His Highness Randall’s magnanimity and methods… His Highness Randall encourages his subjects to invent and create. His Eminence Clement once helped House of Randell invent straw paper. Building on this, Randall’s craftsmen improved the papermaking process and invented the black paper for the Mutual Aid Vouchers. His Highness Randall could have easily sold this black paper, but instead, he made the manufacturing process public and declared that anyone who could improve the black paper process or make other inventions could receive a handsome reward from House of Randell.”

“His Highness Randall is leveraging the wisdom of the masses to drive technological progress.”

Williams nodded. “Indeed… The iron brick technology is too hot to handle. Unless you never use it, no one can monopolize the manufacturing process. Since the craftsmen of the Centaur Hills could invent iron bricks, our craftsmen can also improve the production technology. Even Sylvia and Victor are selling it. If some other family makes a huge breakthrough in iron brick production, they’ll have to share it too, at least by selling it to the Centaur Hills for gold coin.”

Marquess Golan suddenly stood up, paced back and forth in the council chamber, then stopped and asked, “But what if the York family possesses even better technology?”

“The iron bricks and giant brick kilns can be traded for strategic resource shares from the kingdoms right now, yet the Centaur Hills only sold them for a few million gold coins. If they have better iron bricks, a better kiln, what are they planning to trade for?”

The council chamber fell silent. After a moment, Marquess Ludwig said with a wry smile, “I’m afraid we’re not the only ones with a headache over this question… His Highness Randall’s wisdom is difficult to fathom. Fortunately, his style is relatively moderate, always managing to accommodate the interests of all parties while securing the most favorable external environment for the Centaur Hills, and by extension, the Kingdom of Gambis. From that perspective, we need not worry too much. In fact, the various kingdoms and the Church are not particularly resistant to The Iron Brick Feast and its subsequent developments.”

He paused, then added tentatively, “His Highness Randall hails from Aerie Fortress. He is also a Highness of our Kingdom of Gambis… Should we perhaps approach him directly? I believe that whatever His Highness Randall is plotting, he will need the support of the entire Kingdom of Gambis.”

Just then, an attendant knocked on the door. After receiving the Regent’s acknowledgment, he entered, bowed, and said, “Your Highness, Earl Greer of the Moon Bear family has just publicly announced that the Teutonic Duchy’s right to purchase the iron brick technology is guaranteed by Marchioness Wimbledon. Also, His Highness Randall has already entered Blinor City.”

The men looked at each other, stunned. Williams couldn’t help but stand up and ask, “What’s going on? Weren’t their Highnesses’ carriages scheduled to arrive at the Royal Capital at noon?”

The attendant replied respectfully, “Lady Sylvia is still with the convoy. His Highness Randall came ahead alone.”

“Where is His Highness Randall now? Brinol Cathedral?” Marquess Ludwig frowned and pressed.

“No… His Highness is right here in Aerie Fortress, with the Queen Mother Catherine.”

A knowing smile appeared on Marquess Golan’s face. He waved the attendant away and said in a relaxed tone, “We needn’t rush to disturb Victor. Let him have a reunion with Catherine first… Now that all the purchase rights for the iron brick technology have been settled, what kind of impact will The Iron Brick Feast have on Gambis’s diplomacy?”

Grand Vizier Ludwig also smiled. “Sasan, Dodor, and Borea will see little change. The Blanstedt family of Sus are traditional allies of the Yorks, and now are in-laws to the Augustes. Although they currently lack a Highness, the iron bricks will enhance their influence in the Kingdom of Sus. This is only beneficial to us. Lady Dori of Naville is Duke York’s birth mother, so it’s only natural that the Dekeizer family would get the iron brick manufacturing process. However, the Centaur Hills giving her the purchase rights is likely due to the Dekeizer family’s potential ties to the Randt Imperial territory. His Highness Randall has not given up on a port on the shores of Lake Fies. This is a matter the four Highnesses must discuss specifically at some point… I will just add one reminder: both the Kingdom of Sus and the Kingdom of Borea are capable of building a Lake Fies port within the Randt Imperial territory.”

Williams nodded, his face expressionless. He avoided the topic of his own family, the Neo Westers, and waved his hand. “Today’s discussion will yield no conclusion. Lord Ludwig, Lord Walus, you are dismissed.”

The Grand Vizier and the Night Owl chief bowed and departed.

Once they were gone, Williams looked at Marquess Golan and said, “I’ve noticed that during The Iron Brick Feast, the Radiant Knights have been unable to exert any influence. The great secular lords are all hoping the Centaur Hills will produce a better iron brick or giant kiln. They’ve vaguely formed an alliance… Is this a delicate situation deliberately created by Victor and Sylvia… Are they ultimately planning to unite the secular lords to force the Radiant Knights into making certain concessions?”

Marquess Golan nodded, patted Williams on the shoulder, and walked toward the council chamber doors.

“Let’s just watch how things unfold… Victor is also a Guardian of Aerie Fortress.”

Williams stared dumbfounded at Marquess Golan’s majestic, lion-like back, shouting, “Uncle Golan, are you that certain I can’t see through Victor’s plans?”

“Whether you can see through his thoughts, I’m not sure… In any case, I can’t.”

The Regent of Gambis sat slumped on the throne in the council chamber for a long time. He scratched his hair and thought in frustration:

What on earth is that kid Victor trying to do?

Chapter 576: Linobia

In the rear garden of Aerie Fortress.

Catherine wore a loose white robe that concealed her burgeoning belly. Her delicate hand rested on Victor’s outstretched left forearm as they strolled across the Evergreen grass lawn. Her ethereally beautiful face shone with a blissful radiance, her emerald eyes brimming with tender affection as she gazed constantly at her lover.

According to Church tenets, when lords and high-ranked knights traveled, they were to pray at a church first upon stopping in a town or arriving at their destination. This served to avoid unnecessary misunderstandings and ensure their own safety. Victor had slipped into Aerie Fortress alone without any such scruples, demonstrating his trust in the Royal Family. And this trust from His Highness Randell stemmed from his intimate relationship with Catherine.

The moment she saw Victor, Catherine was overjoyed. She firmly believed that if she were not at the royal palace, Victor would not have set foot in Aerie Fortress.

His Highness Randell had come only for her and the child in her womb.

Even with Roland having left Aerie Fortress to go on an adventure, she had no need to feel lost or worried. His Highness Randell was the towering tree at her back, shielding her, Edward, and the child in her womb from the wind and rain.

In the courtyard was a well curb built of white-glazed rock, and from its center grew a tall fig tree. It was laden with fruit, and the air was filled with the light, elegant fragrance of the fruitwood.

A gentle breeze materialized from thin air and swept the dust from the white-glazed rock well curb. Victor tested the temperature with his hand, and only after confirming it was fine did he help Catherine sit down. He held her smooth, jade-like calf and began to massage it with gentle motions.

Gazing at Victor’s handsome, focused face, Catherine smiled sweetly, her voice soft and delicate. “My love, I’m in no condition to serve you right now.”

Of course, a high-ranking female knight did not suffer the same reactions as an ordinary pregnant woman. They didn’t experience nausea or vomiting, their figures didn’t become swollen and misshapen, their movements weren’t hindered, and their legs and feet certainly didn’t swell. But Victor always felt he should be doing something—not for Catherine or the child in her belly, but for himself.

This was his first time becoming a father.

Knights of noble bloodlines rarely had children before the age of thirty. Victor’s own bloodline had not yet stabilized; whether by the lifespan of the Elves or his new form integrated with a human bloodline, he was not yet an adult. However, at twenty-seven years old in this other world, he was equivalent to a forty-year-old on Earth, and his life experiences far surpassed his actual age. He was particularly looking forward to having a child of his own.

Catherine was not only the little Baron’s first woman, but also the mother of Victor’s first child. Her heartbeat, synchronized with that of the fetus in her womb, fascinated Victor with every pulse. Listening to the heartbeats of this mother and daughter, he felt as if he possessed the entire world, his heart serene yet filled with power.

This little life was connected to him by blood, a continuation of his own life, a testament to his existence in this world—real and not illusory.

“May I touch her?” Victor asked, half-kneeling on the ground, his dark gold eyes raised in a look of anticipation and trepidation.

A tremor went through Catherine’s heart, and an inexplicable emotion rippled through her. She took Victor’s long, well-proportioned hand and gently pressed it to her abdomen. “Of course, my love,” she said softly.

Through the soft, fine linen, Victor could feel Catherine’s smooth, delicate skin. A faint but steady heartbeat echoed clearly into his palm. An image of a fetus quickly formed in his mind—this was not a depiction based on vibrations, but a resonance of the wind element.

This sudden development left Victor at a total loss. Fearing he might harm Catherine and the child in her womb, he quickly pulled his hand away. Meeting Catherine’s surprised gaze, he knitted his long, straight brows and stammered as if he had done something wrong, “I… She didn’t move. She hasn’t moved at all since I saw you.”

His Highness Randell’s rather childish words made Catherine chuckle. She wrapped her arms around her lover’s neck and comforted him, “Don’t worry, my love. She’s still small. In another two months, she’ll start kicking me. You’ll be able to see her this coming March.”

Victor breathed a sigh of relief. He sat down beside Catherine, pulling both her and their daughter onto his lap. “Will she… will she be like me, or like you… I mean, will she be a Moon Elf noble?” he asked, full of curiosity.

Resting in the crook of Victor’s arm, Catherine bit her red lip and said apologetically, “My love, she will be a beautiful and powerful Stormwind female knight… In the process of a high-ranking female knight gestating a child, she interacts with the void element while simultaneously refining the child’s knight’s bloodline. If the partner’s bloodline is weaker than that of the high-ranking female knight, his weaker bloodline will be replaced. Every child of a high-ranking female knight is at least a senior knight. But if the partner’s bloodline is stronger than ours, like your Gold Bloodline, I can’t replace it. In fact, when I circulate my Aura, our daughter also resonates with the Elemental Sea of wind. Through her, I can perceive the existence of the Elemental Sea. With this memory, I might even be able to break through my bloodline’s barrier and become a half-goldenized Raging Wave Knight.”

“My love, haven’t you noticed? The Moon Elf bloodline is mostly passed down through the women; you are a rare exception. If you want to have a child with the Moon Elf bloodline, you must have a child with a noblewoman of the Wind Whisper Moon Elf bloodline.”

In this era, besides Victor himself, there were no Moon Elf nobles who had awakened the Wind Whisper talent.

“The Moon Elves have a matriarchal society, and the spouses of Sun Elves are all top-tier experts among the Moon Elves…” Victor said, unconcerned. “I was just asking. It’s nothing to be regretful about.”

“By the way, how is your domain now? Is there anything you need my help with?”

“My followers are managing the domain.” Catherine caressed her belly and said with a smile, “For safety’s sake, even when Aerie Fortress welcomes its new mistress, I won’t be moving out of the royal palace for the time being. Aerie Fortress is closer to the cathedral, after all. We will move to the duchy when our daughter turns five. You have five years, my love, to plan the domain for your daughter and me.”

Victor nodded emphatically, his interest piqued. “It’s what I should do. I will build you the most beautiful palace and manor, the strongest castle, and the most rationally planned towns, farmlands, and pastures.”

Catherine pursed her lips and smiled. “Your Highness, I have no doubt you will.”

As Victor imagined his daughter’s future home, his thoughts drifted to her marriage. He asked hesitantly, “My love, who will our daughter marry?”

“She won’t marry anyone.” Catherine seemed to perceive Victor’s fatherly jealousy and said tactfully, “The next Duchess Wimbledon-Osvid will only take an outstanding young man from the August family as her suitor… For example, Regent Williams’s youngest son, Thomas Auguste.”

“Thomas? Why have I never heard of this boy?” Victor’s tone was filled with the indignation of a man seeing his own white rose snatched away by a black crow.

Catherine burst out laughing and explained, “Thomas won’t be born for another ten months.”

Victor’s attention immediately shifted to their daughter’s name. “Wimbledon is her bloodline surname, and Osvid is her family surname, but have you chosen her given name yet?”

Catherine raised a slender hand to caress Victor’s face and said languidly, “That is your right as her father… I was going to wait until she was born for you to name her. You had better think of a few names now. You must come up with one that satisfies me.”

“Alright!”

Eager to try, Victor wrapped his arms around Catherine’s burgeoning belly. The feeling of their bloodlines connecting through elemental resonance surged once more. He “saw” a tiny life lying in the palm of his hand—fragile yet strong, ordinary yet noble—and gradually came to a realization:

If he embraced the world, the world would embrace him back.

Powerful beings cherished their offspring dearly. Sun Elves were even rarer than Dragons. As the sustainers of the elven bloodline, they were the long-lived species closest to the Ancestral God, and primordial humans likewise treasured their own descendants. This was, in fact, another, stronger and more profound, common ground in the bloodlines of humans and elves.

Every descendant was a continuation and strengthening of one’s spiritual bloodline. The small life in his arms was the first mark of the Law that Victor had left on this world, and it was also an acknowledgment of him by the origin of the world.

Victor’s spiritual power soared infinitely. The Silver Moon Secret Art activated on its own, and he entered a state of Oneness with nature, resonating with the Law. The golden glow in his eyes turned into a reserved and solid dark gold.

“Her name will be Linobia. A father’s glory, a queen of the hunt.”

At that moment, every Gold Knight in the city of Blinor heard a whisper on the wind.

…Linobia…

In the Blue Dawn Sparrow family’s villa, Duke Ludwig of the Kingdom of Naville and His Highness Andre of the Kingdom of Borea looked up at the same time, seeing the shock and confusion in each other’s eyes.

“…Linobia?”

“This is power on the level of the Saint realm?!”

Outside the gates of Blinor City, Marquess Golan, who was waiting for Sylvia’s carriage, left his retinue under their astonished gazes and turned to stare in the direction of Aerie Fortress.

“Linobia… She will be the Legendary Guardian of the August family.”

Inside a carriage engraved with rose patterns and a tusked sigil, Sylvia stretched her graceful body, reclining on a soft snow-weasel fur couch that still carried Victor’s scent. Her gaze was like rippling water, and she giggled with a hint of jealousy.

“Linobia… My dear Victor, in the near future, you will have to give our son an even better name.”

Catherine was oblivious to all of this, completely immersed in the disturbance of the Elemental Sea, the source of which was the flesh and blood in her womb. Fortunately, the fetus isolated her from the disturbance, preventing any impact on her soul, yet it gave her a chance to glimpse a fraction of the mysteries of the world’s origin.

“Linobia… A very beautiful name.”

A voice as pleasant as the song of an oriole came from nearby. The incomparably radiant Princess Roland leaped onto the lawn, her long, platinum blonde braid bouncing with vitality. Behind her were Edward and Anna.

Seeing her son and his fiancée, Catherine instantly came to her senses. She circulated her Aura to control the blush on her cheeks and stood up from Victor’s lap with graceful composure. She smiled and asked calmly:

“Roland, when did you all get here?”

But the way she deliberately avoided her son’s curious and teasing gaze exposed her guilty conscience.

Roland played with her braid and said innocently, “We’ve been here the whole time… You two were just too busy being lovey-dovey to notice us.”

Catherine was mortified, but Anna came to her rescue. “We were in the main garden, directing the craftsmen on remodeling the brick kiln. The princess suddenly dragged us over.”

“Anna!” Roland glared at the young queen who had exposed her.

Anna stuck out her tongue and pulled a reluctant Edward forward to greet her guardian. “Your Highness Randell, good day.”

By now, Victor had returned to normal, though the dark gold rings in his eyes had become more distinct. He rose and returned the greeting with a nod and a smile. “Your Majesty, Anna, I’m very happy to see you both again.”

Edward had a strange look on his face. He simply grunted in response to His Highness Randell’s greeting.

Victor had been his childhood playmate, his sister’s student (as Roland claimed), his mother’s intimate partner, and the father of his future sister. And he was also Anna’s guardian!

Thankfully, Anna and I are getting married soon, and she won’t need a guardian anymore… Edward thought to himself. He decided to lie low for now, lest he get a stern lecture from his fiancée’s guardian.

“Hey, aren’t you happy to see your tutor again?” Roland folded her arms, tapped her right foot, and shot Victor a sidelong glance, her exquisitely beautiful face clearly saying, “Your tutor is very displeased.”

Victor was in high spirits. The state of resonating with the Law had increased his Spirit attribute by at least two points, but such feedback from the merging of his inner and outer worlds was likely a one-time event.

He stepped forward, bowed, and teased half-jokingly, “Your Highness, the princess, I have often thought of you… You’ve become even more beautiful than the last time we met.”

The narcissistic princess fell for it completely.

Sure enough, Roland caressed her cheek and said gleefully, “Really? You really have been missing your tutor. I’ve only gotten a tiny bit prettier, and you noticed.”

“You, you…” The young king pointed a finger at Victor, wanting to scold him for not being satisfied with Catherine and daring to make a move on Princess Roland.

Catherine’s pretty face darkened slightly, and Edward immediately fell silent. He looked at Victor as if he were watching a great wild boar rampaging through his own back garden, trampling the flowers with impunity, while he could only watch, helpless and heartbroken.

Victor was definitely being misjudged, but one couldn’t blame Edward. Any man who wasn’t a high-ranked knight would have similar thoughts upon seeing him speak with a woman.

Roland looked Victor up and down and asked, “You violated the Church tenets and came to Aerie Fortress alone just to give Catherine’s daughter a name?”

“Duke York’s Iron Brick Feast has caused such a stir. I can’t be bothered dealing with the envoys from the various kingdoms. Let Sylvia handle the pleasantries. I’ll go to Brinol Cathedral to pray on the eve of Edward and Anna’s wedding celebration,” Victor said lightly.

The iron brick technology had far-reaching implications, and Victor was bound to face all sorts of probing. Even though he was now a Legendary-rank Highness, he couldn’t project his spiritual power outward. In the eyes of high-ranked knights, His Highness Randell possessed a natural affinity, which could also be seen as being a soft persimmon. But no one would dare to test him so brazenly in front of Sylvia.

Roland’s eyes lit up. “So you’ll be staying at Aerie Fortress these next few days? How about we improve the iron brick process together?”

“No.” Victor shook his head. “I’d rather be in the Osvid Duchy, designing an amusement park for Linobia.”

“…An amusement park? Great! Let’s go together,” the princess said, her eyes shining as she beamed.

“And Anna and me.”

Edward raised his hand, asking to join. He secretly resolved to thwart Victor’s attempts to seduce Roland in any way possible, lest he neglect Catherine in the future.

Chapter 577: Stealing a Moment of Leisure

The King’s wedding celebration was only fifteen days away, a period of time that was obviously insufficient to begin construction on an amusement park. Fortunately, Victor only needed to handle the site selection and design; the subsequent construction would naturally be completed by the Auguste family’s craftsmen. Even if they couldn’t do it, Victor could dispatch an experienced engineering team to build the ideal playground for his yet-unborn eldest daughter.

In any case, the Double-Headed Dragon Merchant Association’s teams of craftsmen were about to head to various parts of the Gambis Kingdom to build giant brick kilns for the great lords. Establishing the Brinol Plains’ first giant brick kiln in the Osvid Duchy was a simple matter of a word from Victor.

Victor and Roland first spent three days surveying the entire Osvid Duchy. Roland wasn’t much help with the work itself; she was purely trying to ditch her retinue and enjoy the freedom of a Gold Knight roaming at will. Edward, left behind in the duchy’s castle, could only fume with impatience. Even a senior knight couldn’t keep up with the two of them, let alone the young king and Anna, who were merely senior apprentice knights.

High-ranked Knights did not believe in forcing their children’s development. Once their offspring reached the stage of eternal youth, they would naturally come to deeply understand the concept of partnership among the extraordinary. Even though Edward was the King of Gambis, he was no different from an ordinary young noble at this point, constantly worried that Victor would shift his affections to Princess Roland, creating a rift between his most beloved sister and mother and causing them to turn against each other and become enemies.

However, when Victor began to construct a topographical sand table of the Osvid Duchy, the young king immediately became interested. He followed at Victor’s heels, asking all sorts of questions and helping him place miniature models of forests and lakes on the sand table, a perfect little tag-along.

Edward was not the only such follower; the group also included Roland and Anna, as well as a team of master craftsmen assigned to the Osvid Duchy from Aerie Fortress.

Their reasons for following Victor varied, but whether it was out of personal interest or the desire to learn his techniques, everyone did their best to learn the skills of sand table construction while assisting him.

Victor did not answer any questions from anyone; he didn’t have that much time to teach apprentices. In truth, there was no secret technique to making a sand table; its value lay simply in the idea. With enough manpower and a little more time, any lord could create a miniature sand table of their domain. A sand table only possessed outstanding military value when scout cavalry also mastered the architectural knowledge of surveying terrain and drawing maps.

Of course, the military value of a sand table corresponded to large-scale legion warfare. Centaur Hills had begun training professional scouting parties several years ago.

Regardless, with the mountains, rivers, forests, lakes, farmlands, pastures, towns, and villages of the Osvid Duchy displayed intuitively on the sand table, a god-like perspective naturally emerged, stunning all who saw it for the first time. Catherine’s knights and scholars were in complete awe of His Highness Randall, while Roland and Edward excitedly pointed out landmarks on the model, discussing grand strategies.

The layout of the Osvid Duchy’s towns, roads, and military facilities was generally reasonable, with a few flaws now glaringly obvious. Although Victor hadn’t had time to investigate the distribution of the duchy’s biological resources, he had already formed a preliminary plan for the duchy’s future based on the topography displayed on the sand table.

He marked out an area of more than five thousand mu on the outskirts of Falgon Forest in the south-central part of the duchy to serve as a holiday manor for Catherine and her daughter. Then, he went to the actual site to plan the manor’s overall layout, once again presenting it in the form of a sand table for the architects and master craftsmen to observe. The detailed design plans for the houses and villas could be postponed; a few simple wooden models were enough to adorn the sand table for now.

With the preliminary work done, Victor began to work on the design of the amusement park.

The children of high-ranking female knights awakened their Aura while still in their mothers’ wombs; they were born apprentice knights. Amusement park facilities like slides, carousels, trampolines, and swings were far too childish for a little Knight and would clearly not satisfy His Highness Randall’s darling daughter.

Therefore, Victor designed a theme park. Using several heroic adventure stories as blueprints, he incorporated elements such as exploration, mazes, puzzles, deduction, treasure hunts, hunting, traps, safe houses, and secret gardens to conceive several game scenarios.

The princess and the young king were extremely enthusiastic in offering ideas. But as the siblings became more deeply involved, Victor found that the difficulty of the games was increasing dramatically, even becoming quite risky. For example, in one part of a game, Roland proposed that the player must kill a brown bear or some other fierce beast. Edward and Anna nodded repeatedly in strong support.

For God’s sake, was this an amusement park for a toddler?

With a dark expression, Victor vetoed all the projects designed by the Auguste siblings. Princess Royal Roland’s authority as “Tutor” was useless. In the end, she could only compromise with Victor, promising not to increase the game’s difficulty and only asking to continue participating in the story design.

In this respect, Roland was indeed an expert.

When no one was around, Edward and Anna snuck into Victor’s workshop carrying two wild rabbits, asking their guardian to design an amusement park for them as well. For their children, of course. The King and Queen of Gambis, who were about to enter the sacred halls of marriage, had no need for an amusement park themselves.

Victor accepted the gift and said with a smile that when they had a child, he would definitely build an amusement park for him or her—in Centaur Hills.

But that would be twenty-five years from now.

Anna was a noblewoman of a strong Bloodline. Her and Edward’s children would belong to the York family and would have inheritance rights to the Blanstedt family, but they could never ascend to the throne of Gambis.

The disappointed little Auguste king left dejectedly. However, designing an amusement park offered a different kind of fun compared to playing in one. It was more satisfying to one’s sense of achievement, like a god pitting their wits against the players from a distance.

Edward’s attention soon shifted to the theme park’s design, and he wracked his brains to add the kind of fun he wanted for his future little sister.

When it came to passion and talent for games, Victor was ten streets behind the Roland siblings. As long as they weren’t designing an amusement park for themselves, their fun ideas were endless. They proposed many constructive plans that broadened Victor’s horizons and left him speechless with admiration. In comparison, the playability of his initial plan could only be described as dry.

Victor and Edward had met in Aerie Fortress, but back then, the prince was just a little brat who needed Catelyn to wipe his nose. How could he possibly remember the little Baron? This time together brought their relationship a step closer; at the very least, the young king began to admire His Highness Randall’s wisdom and power.

During one of their chats, he told Victor that he didn’t enjoy the company of the court ministers; they were always trying to cultivate his political talents in every way possible. He wished that Uncle Williams could diligently manage the affairs of the Gambis Kingdom forever, but he knew that was impossible.

Once Williams felt the time was right, he would attempt to break through to the Gold realm. Whether he succeeded or not, he would no longer personally handle the affairs of state. He would either become a Guardian with ample free time or return to the origin of the world.

In truth, the Augustes did not dislike politics. They simply had interests that were too broad and were full of curiosity about different ways of life. As long as they were interested in a certain field, they could display talent far beyond that of ordinary people, and that included political strategy. A passion for secular life helped them advance to Gold Knight, while suppressing their free Nature would cause the Augustes to fall short at the final hurdle.

Victor believed little Edward was a sincere person, at least before he came of age.

Ten days later, Aerie Fortress sent someone to urge Edward, Anna, Roland, and Victor to return to the palace. The visitor was none other than Regent Williams.

With only five days left before the King’s wedding celebration, the work Victor had on hand was basically complete. He packed up his blueprints and boarded the Regent’s carriage.

The Swift Dragon-pulled carriage sped along the unobstructed road, the scenery outside blurring as it flew backward. Williams sat facing the rear of the carriage, a broad smile on his face as he spoke.

“Victor, the sand table you made is a true treasure. Marquess Golan praises it endlessly, and Catherine cherishes it as if it were a priceless gem. But I like the amusement park you designed even more.”

“That was actually the masterpiece of Her Highness Roland and His Majesty Edward. I merely provided an idea… the sand table was also just an idea,” Victor said humbly, withdrawing his gaze from the window with a smile.

“The most precious things are precisely these brilliant ideas,” Williams said with a sigh of wonder, then changed the subject. “For example, your idea concerning the giant brick kilns is worth five million Gold Sol.”

Faced with the Regent’s probing, Victor did not deny it. He smiled and said, “You have to include the Iron Brick for it to be worth five million Gold Sol. And the idea for the Iron Brick was not mine.”

Williams thought for a moment, then decided there was no need to beat around the bush with Victor. He asked candidly, “Victor, I would like to ask you to satisfy my curiosity… Does Centaur Hills have a better type of Iron Brick, or a giant brick kiln with a higher output? What is the true purpose of you holding the Iron Brick Feast?”

Victor countered, “Your Highness, if the Auguste craftsmen improved the Iron Brick technology, making it cheaper to produce and superior in quality, and if the giant brick kilns had a higher output, would you be confident in monopolizing the results of your family’s craftsmen? And what would you trade your new Iron Bricks and new kilns for?”

“…This.” Williams pondered for a moment, then shook his head. “The Gambis Kingdom could not bear the pressure of monopolizing the Iron Bricks. As for what to trade them for? I don’t know right now… but the Auguste family would certainly share the new Iron Brick manufacturing process with the Queen’s family.”

Victor smiled calmly. “Sharing is how we can jointly withstand the pressure from all sides. This was our original intention in offering the Iron Bricks and giant brick kilns to Aerie Fortress and the great lords of Gambis… Not knowing what to trade the new Iron Brick technology for now means we can trade it for something we want in the future.”

“The essence of the Iron Brick Feast is a solution.”

“A solution?”

Victor nodded, his gaze growing profound as he spoke in a low voice, “When the various kingdoms invent new technologies of strategic value, we can refer to the model of the Iron Brick Feast and propose a trade with them. The transaction wouldn’t be limited to money, but monetary transactions could not be refused either.”

Williams frowned, his fingers tapping on the table. Finally, he couldn’t help but ask, “It can’t be that simple, can it… I suspect you might want something from the Radiant Knights?”

Can I tell you that I’m preparing to dominate the financial system of The Golden Company?

“You’re not wrong to say that, Your Highness…” Victor nodded slightly, looking at him with a half-smile. “However, it was you who blockaded the stone supply to Centaur Hills, forcing us to develop the Iron Brick as a substitute for stone.”

Williams’s expression didn’t change. “But we lifted the stone trade blockade as soon as Anna and Edward’s betrothal was arranged. In fact, Aerie Fortress has already done its utmost by investing one million Gold Sol to supply building stone for the three great fortresses. As for the stone to build Port Rose, it was you yourselves who had no money to purchase it… You can’t expect Aerie Fortress to pay for that too, can you?”

Victor shook his head and chuckled. “By that time, we had already invented the Iron Brick… It’s just a pity that the bricks require a ten-percent share of iron powder. Even after grinding all the rusty ironware in Centaur Hills’ storehouses into powder, it was only enough to build five ordinary castles. The current Iron Brick isn’t suitable for widespread use, and we also need more funds to purchase raw iron… The biggest seller of iron ore, Naville, has a good relationship with Centaur Hills, but they are a northern expansion kingdom, after all. And we are a southern expansion kingdom… On the matter of the Iron Bricks, regardless of whether we could satisfy the Kingdom of Naville’s demands, the Radiant Knights would have incited Sasan, Dodor, Sus, and even the lords of the Borrey United Kingdom to join forces and pressure us. Then, the Radiant Knights would have stepped in to mediate. In doing so, they would have invisibly enhanced the Radiant Knights’ influence.”

“As a southern expansion kingdom, we in Gambis want to control the expansion south of the river, so we cannot boost the prestige of the Radiant Knights. That is why we would rather use the Iron Brick Feast to enhance Patriarch Tamor’s reputation. Because he is the clerical leader of the Church in charge of the southern expansion strategy.”

Bishop Pello of the Centaur Hills diocese was a student of the Pope, but Pope Clement sought a balance between the Church’s northern and southern expansion strategies. By using the Iron Brick Feast to intensify the conflict between Tamor’s faction and the Radiant Knights, Sylvia and Victor were, in fact, benefiting Pope Clement’s faction. Williams’s mind raced, and he burst out laughing. “Testier sent a Silver Paladin rushing to Blinor City, but Tamor had already handled the Iron Brick deal perfectly. The Radiant Knights accomplished nothing. If the northern expansion kingdoms have advanced technology, Tamor can completely imitate the Iron Brick Feast and demand that they resolve the technology dispute with us southern expansion kingdoms… Haha, so that’s how it is. That was truly a brilliant move.”

Victor smiled without a word, his gaze once again turning to the window outside. The silhouette of Blinor City had already come into view.

Chapter 578: Gold-Eyed Earl

On the eighteenth of November, the sky was a deep blue, and the sun was bright yet gentle, casting a comfortable warmth on all below.

Today, the King of Gambis, His Majesty Edward Auguste, would invest Angelina Branstat York as Queen in the great cathedral, formally establishing the alliance between the Auguste family and the York family. Before that, however, the King was to first invest His Highness Victor W. Randell as an Earl of Gambis, after which the Regent, on behalf of all the lords and nobles of the Kingdom of Gambis, would grant him the authority of a Protector of the Kingdom.

In the square before Brinol Cathedral, colorful ribbons fluttered and banners waved. The Glory Knights led elite soldiers to block off the intersections, prohibiting passage to carriages and pedestrians. The children of Blinor City’s nobility and the attendants of various families could only gather on the sides of the road, waiting for the procession of the King and Queen to tour the city.

At this moment, inside the vast main hall of Brinol Cathedral, four knights clad head-to-toe in exquisite armor and holding ceremonial one-handed spears escorted Victor, who was dressed in azure armor. They walked along a golden cashmere carpet, flanked by six statues of sword-wielding angels. The statues were four and a half meters tall, meticulously carved from white-glazed rock. With their wings folded, they faced the entrance of the main hall, kneeling on their pedestals with heads bowed as if paying homage to His Highness Randell.

Past the statues of the Radiant Angels, the golden carpet was lined with the lords of Gambis, great and small, and the envoys from various nations. All eyes were fixed on His Highness Randell as he approached slowly. His Highness Randell’s Perception was so keen that no sound could escape his ears. Not even the beautiful and bold high-ranking female knights would dare to whisper amongst themselves and comment on His Highness Randell on such an occasion. Everyone remained silent. The only sounds in the great hall were the resounding footsteps of the ceremonial knights and His Highness Randell. The atmosphere was solemn and heavy.

Watching Victor draw closer, Edward felt an inexplicable sense of panic. He had to discreetly circulate his Aura to suppress the urge to look away. A vast and heavy power came from behind him—it was not real, yet it felt like a towering mountain. It was spiritual energy transmitted by Marquess Golan.

Edward’s nervousness eased considerably. He glanced back at the three Protectors of the Kingdom—Golan, Roland, and Sylvia—and couldn’t help but straighten his back. His unfocused gaze sharpened once more on Victor, and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

His Highness Randell is a Protector of our Kingdom of Gambis.

Sunlight pierced through the crystal skylight at the top of the cathedral, forming a pure pillar of light in the prayer hall that fell upon the steps, enveloping Patriarch Tamor, King Edward, and Regent Williams. Victor stepped into the pillar of light, and his azure armor was coated in a faint golden sheen, adding to the sacred atmosphere. He drew his longsword, knelt on one knee before the steps, and lowered his head, holding the sword in both hands.

The young king took the Adamantine longsword from Viscount Randell’s hands, rested the blade on his pauldron, and proclaimed:

“I, Edward Auguste, Lord of Gambis, in the name of the King, do hereby invest Victor W. Randell as an Earl of the Kingdom of Gambis. From this day forth, the House of Randell shall be a hereditary house of Earls in Gambis.”

After speaking, Edward returned the longsword and took the Earl’s seal from a tray held by a nearby sword-bearing knight, bestowing it upon Victor.

The little Baron had sworn an oath of loyalty to Catherine and Edward nine years ago; the oath did not need to be repeated. Victor silently took back his sword and stood up. He placed the House of Randell’s Earl’s seal into a box held by a ceremonial knight and, from it, took out the Viscount’s seal, placing it on the sword-bearer’s tray.

With that, the investiture ceremony for the House of Randell’s earldom concluded.

Williams and Edward swapped places, and the Regent declared loudly, “I, Williams Auguste, Regent of Gambis, on behalf of the lords and nobles of the Kingdom of Gambis, in this sacred place, do grant His Highness Victor Wimbledon Randell the authority to protect the Kingdom.”

The Regent took out a Mithril dagger inlaid with a wind element crystal and presented it to Victor with both hands.

Raising the dagger that symbolized his status as a Guardian, Victor demonstrated the Guardian’s power to the lords and guests. His heterochromatic dark gold eyes turned completely dark gold, and an unseen wind carried his clear voice to everyone’s ears.

“I, Victor Wimbledon Randell, in this sacred place, under the gaze of the Supreme Lord, shall shoulder the responsibility of protecting the Kingdom of Gambis. I take this as my honor, from this day until the day my life ends.”

“May the supreme Lord of Radiance guide your Path.”

Patriarch Tamor, dressed in his official robes, made the sign of the holy symbol over his chest. His smile was warm and approachable as he said, “Your Highness Randell, accept the cheers of the subjects of Gambis. I too am overjoyed that the Kingdom of Gambis has gained another legendary Guardian.”

There had always been debate as to whether Victor was Gold rank or Legendary. Patriarch Tamor’s statement now confirmed his status as a legendary powerhouse.

With the exception of Duke Ludwig and His Highness Andre, the observing lords of Gambis and foreign envoys took a moment to process this, and a brief silence fell.

“Gold-Eyed Earl!”

A slightly hoarse yet uniquely charming female voice was the first to break the abrupt quiet—it was Gillian.

Following the sound, Victor saw the tall, cold, and elegant Young Lady of the Chapman family. Facing the focused attention of the crowd, she showed no fear, meeting only Victor’s gaze. Her chin was lifted proudly, and her full, red lips held a triumphant smile. Her charming phoenix eyes were filled with adoration and pride, like a wife sharing in her husband’s glory.

According to Victor’s way of thinking, only a lover who shared his goals could be called a partner. Gillian Chapman could no longer be considered his partner, but she was his one and only, most doted-upon lover.

Raising the Guardian’s dagger in his hand, Victor nodded to Gillian with a smile.

The Young Lady of the Chapman family lifted the hem of her skirt and curtsied. The people around them finally burst into applause and cheers:

“Gold-Eyed Earl!”

“Gold-Eyed Earl, Your Highness Randell, we salute you.”

A cathedral attendant ran out of the prayer hall, and soon the resounding sound of horns echoed from outside the cathedral, followed by the cheers of the nobles’ children and family attendants, celebrating Gambis gaining a new legendary Guardian.

Victor walked up to the high platform behind the King, standing with Sylvia, Roland, and Golan.

“Gold-Eyed Earl?” Sylvia’s eyes danced with amusement as she whispered with a low laugh.

“It really doesn’t sound very good,” Victor said with a smile.

A sour, resentful gaze instantly turned full of tender affection—it was Trisley.

She was proud and shy, and prone to jealousy. She could never be as bold as Gillian and declare her love for Victor in front of everyone, but that didn’t stop her from getting jealous and taking her anger out on him. She had taken the Fertility Potion provided by Aerie Fortress and couldn’t use her Aura at the moment, making it difficult to control her emotions. Her anger came quickly, but she was also easily placated. Having read Victor’s lips, her displeasure immediately turned to joy.

Naturally, Victor let her read his lips. She could only see it because he allowed her to, just as he had no intention of letting Gillian read his assessment.

“Victor, you’re very considerate,” joked Marquess Golan, a man known for his seriousness. A few years ago, he had approached Victor from a position of superiority, chasing down his convoy to gift him a scroll of the Flowing Fire Arrow from Aerie Fortress’s collection. Back then, Victor had merely shown the potential to catch up to the Sword Saint Draven. Now, he truly possessed the dark gold eyes.

Princess Roland’s thoughts wandered. She pointed her fair, slender fingers at the three Guardians one by one, finally pointing at herself.

“Hehe, the four great Protectors of Gambis. We have earth, fire, wind, and water all gathered.”

Sylvia used her immense spiritual power to shield the Guardians’ conversation, so that even the two Gold Knights, Ludwig and Andre, could neither “hear” nor “see” their exchange. But everyone could imagine that the strength of Gambis’s Protectors was unparalleled. His Highness Andre Christopher of the Kingdom of Borea’s deep, reserved gaze met Victor’s for a moment. He gave an elegant nod of acknowledgment, revealing nothing of his thoughts.

A Gold Knight’s spiritual power could not shake Victor’s mind, but it could convey intentions to him.

The very fact that Andre had only glanced at Victor nonchalantly, without offering any congratulations, was suspicious in itself.

Sylvia quickly cleared up Victor’s confusion. “You and Roland were having too much fun outside, so you don’t know about something yet… The Boreans and Patriarch Tamor have prepared a wonderful and lively gift for you.”

“What gift? Why didn’t you tell me?” Roland complained with curiosity.

“Who told you to be so playful?” Marquess Golan retorted bluntly.

“Tomorrow, we will all enjoy the congratulatory gift Andre and Tamor have for Victor,” Sylvia said, glancing at Victor with a smile. “My dear, you are the host, so you decide the location… It must be outside the city.”

Victor withdrew his gaze from Sophia, who was standing below and to the left, and nodded. “Then let’s set it at the Marchioness Wimbledon’s manor outside the city.”

Marquess Golan mulled it over for a moment before nodding. “Very good… Sophia’s influence is even greater than a Highness’s. It is indeed right to involve her in this matter.”

At night, the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence carriage traveled along the narrow streets of Blinor’s Nobles’ District. Sophia sat in the carriage, her eyes closed in thought, a touch of melancholy on her beautiful face.

The Evening Banquet and ball hosted by the King and Queen had just ended. As one of the five Marchionesses of Blinor City, she had stayed until the very end, even though no one had invited her to dance. This was normal. Gold Knights had their own circles, and Silver Knights had theirs. Sophia was neither a Silver Knight nor a Gold Knight, so very few were qualified to ask her to a dance. Moreover, His Highness Randell was famously possessive when it came to his partners, so much so that Trisley and Gillian were both kept at a respectful distance. So who would dare approach His Highness Randell’s wife—the Marchioness Wimbledon, known as the number one beauty of the Royal Capital?

Austin and Earl Horace were both bloody examples, after all.

Sophia didn’t care about such things; she was long past the stage of flaunting her feminine charms. In fact, she had never possessed such shallow vanity. Beauty and charm were merely her tools for integrating into the circle of nobles; she had more faith in her own strength and wisdom.

However, Sophia had seen the pregnant Catherine. The former mistress of Aerie Fortress was undoubtedly the center of attention for the high-ranking female knights. Everyone flocked to her side, envious of her good fortune. Sophia was no exception. While she envied Catherine, for the first time she felt the jealousy of a wife.

Victor’s Sun Elf bloodline was not yet stable, so the chance of him fathering a child was minuscule. Catherine had merely accompanied him on a visit to the Kingdom of Naville, spending just over two years with him day and night, yet she had somehow conceived His Highness Randell’s heir.

If this wasn’t good luck, what was?

Most single high-ranking female knights yearned to conquer a Highness with a Gold Bloodline. Sophia, of course, also adored Victor, but his cleverness made her wary. The Knight’s Path she had chosen was not the traditional one of protecting family and territory, and she had already gone too far down the path of the commercial nobility. Without even arguing, Victor could pull her into the Centaur Hills’ circle of interests. No matter how much she adored Victor, she could not lose her own will.

If only I could conceive Victor’s child, everything would be different… I could freely enjoy his love and affection, share in his wisdom, power, and authority. He would cherish me, just as he cherishes his own wife… That hateful man, he hasn’t come to see me in so many days, and when he saw me today, he didn’t even greet me… Sophia thought sourly, completely ignoring the fact that she hadn’t actively sought him out either, and simply immersing herself in feelings of self-pity.

For her, such occasional moments of weakness and lament were a rare emotional experience.

When the carriage arrived at the Marquess’s estate, Sophia composed herself and elegantly stepped out. A guard from the residence approached and reported with an excited tone:

“My Lady, the master of the house has returned. Lady Natalia is currently dining with His Highness in the dining room.”

Sophia’s eyes lit up. Gathering the hem of her elaborate, magnificent dress, she strode towards the main building of the residence in her exquisite, bright silver high heels. In the blink of an eye, her slender figure vanished from the attendant’s sight.

Before she even entered the small dining room, Sophia heard Natalia’s bell-like, charming laughter. A pang of jealousy arose in her heart. Turning past the antechamber, she saw the mature and beautiful Natalia sitting close to her husband in the adjacent chair, deboning a red salmon for him.

“Dearest Sophia, you’re finally back. Victor was just complimenting my great improvement in roasting salmon. You should try some too,” Natalia said, turning her head, her smile like a blooming flower.

Sophia pouted subtly, almost imperceptibly. She furrowed her slender, willow-like brows, placed a hand on her slim waist, and asked angrily:

“Tonight, why didn’t the Gold-Eyed Earl ask the Countess to dance?”

Chapter 579: Dispelling Wariness

Sophia was dressed in a stately and elegant court dress, its exquisite tailoring flawlessly outlining the perfect curves of her body. Her purple hair was swept up in a noblewoman’s updo, revealing a swan-like, graceful, and long white neck. Her impeccably fine features, paired with her brilliant purple hair and amethyst-like eyes, blended purity, allure, and nobility into a unique charm.

Even Victor, who was accustomed to the stunning beauty of high-ranking female knights, had to admit that Sophia held a special attraction for him. He even suspected that the purple-eyed bloodline might have originated from a branch of the High Elves. It was similar to the ancient barbarian royal bloodlines like Neo Wester’s, which could integrate into a knight’s bloodline, but couldn’t stand on equal footing with it, mutually promoting yet remaining distinct, like the Moon Elves.

Could the purple-eyed female knight’s bloodline be a fusion with the legendary Lady of the Lake, a water sprite’s bloodline?

A peculiar fantasy took root in Victor’s mind, and he couldn’t help but study Sophia for a few extra moments.

Seeing the “astonishment” in Victor’s eyes, Sophia felt a secret thrill of delight. She arched a slender, willow-like purple brow and asked with icy coolness, “What’s the matter? Has the Gold-Eyed Earl become tongue-tied at the sight of me? Or has Your Highness spoken so many sweet nothings to the Duchess of Osvid that you’re too exhausted to bother with your own lawful wife?”

So, she’s jealous of Catherine’s pregnancy and is starting to be unreasonable… That’s perfectly normal. The list of people jealous of Catherine also includes Sylvia, Trisley, and Gillian, so of course Sophia wouldn’t be left out… Victor had a moment of epiphany. He patted Natalia’s soft, fair hand. “Darling, go and prepare a hot bath for me.”

Natalia sensed Sophia’s unusual state and understood that they had private matters to discuss. She nodded乖巧地, rose to her feet, and, with a gentle sway of her hips, walked toward the door. Just before leaving, with her back to Victor, she secretly shot Sophia a look and mouthed silently:

“Quit while you’re ahead. Don’t really make Victor angry.”

Sophia rolled her eyes in annoyance. She walked over to Victor’s side, sat down, and took over Natalia’s task of using a special silver knife to debone the baked salmon, placing the prepared fillet on Victor’s plate.

Victor looked at the boneless fish on his plate, then captured Sophia’s smooth, delicate wrist, raising it to his lips for a light kiss. He looked up and asked, “My dear Countess, after you advanced to Silver Knight, have any men ardently pursued you?”

Sophia愣了一下, then gave a beautiful smile, her red lips parting to release a faint fragrance. “My dear Highness, you are like a slice of honeyed white bread—soft, delicious, and wonderfully fragrant. Even when one is full, they can’t help but want to pick it up and take a sniff.”

High-ranking female knights could project their spirit. The same smile, directed at a beloved, was an amorous glance; in the eyes of others, it was an inviolable majesty. Unless a high-ranking female knight showed favor and gave a hint, no man would dare to pursue them ardently.

Victor didn’t possess the ability to project his spirit, and Sylvia was powerless to stop the high-ranking female knights from casting flirtatious glances his way. In fact, half of the representatives from the great lords of the various kingdoms were single silver female knights, all clearly eager to witness the splendor of the Sun Elf. Upon learning that Catherine was carrying His Highness Randell’s child, they cared even less about Sylvia’s opinion. At the very least, His Highness Randell now had the right to choose his own partner.

Not only had Victor not invited Sophia to dance, but he hadn’t attended the ball at Aerie Fortress at all. The several Highnesses and Patriarch Tamor had only made a brief appearance at the Evening Banquet before being escorted out of Aerie Fortress’s Knight’s Hall by the Regent.

“The one eating the honeyed white bread feels delight, but the white bread being eaten… is just as delighted, especially a beauty like the Countess.” Victor reached out a finger to gently stroke Sophia’s lustrous, tender red lips, implying that she was the honeyed white bread, and he was the one eating it.

After teasing his beautiful wife, Victor withdrew his finger and said with a smile, “My dear, we’ve known each other for so long, yet we’ve never talked like a proper noble couple.”

He and Sophia had the name of husband and wife, and the reality of it as well, but there seemed to be an invisible chasm between them, preventing them from talking about everything and anything like most noble couples.

Victor believed the problem lay with Sophia, with her competitive and unyielding nature. After all, His Highness Randell was never wrong. If there was a fault, it was someone else’s, or the fault of the circumstances. He would always find a way to correct the error; a temporary concession was merely a way to change the circumstances so that he could continue to be correct.

In truth, everyone was like this: first adapting to their environment, and then, once they had the ability, reshaping it to their own will. The only difference lay in the methods and outcomes.

Regardless, Sophia could play a vital role for Victor, for the Centaur Hills, and for Gambis. If he allowed her personality to continue on its awkward path, the rift between them would only widen, eventually leading to irreparable losses, or even violent conflict.

Victor felt it was necessary to have an in-depth exchange with her.

A blush rose on Sophia’s cheeks, and she nodded with a radiant smile. “Yes, my husband. We are a lawful couple and intimate partners. We should converse like a true noble couple.”

“Give Natalia to me,” Victor said, gazing into Sophia’s deep purple eyes. He shook his head and sighed, “Following you, Natalia can’t use the Gold Potion until it’s publicly revealed. She’s not young anymore. I can let her advance to experienced female knight ahead of schedule… This is what I can do for her.”

“And then? Natalia becomes an experienced knight, only to be collected by you and kept at Silver Moon Manor as a flower vase for His Highness Randell?” Sophia’s voice was soft but firm. “I know Natalia. She’s not ambitious like me, but she doesn’t like to be constrained either. She’s actually a free-spirited female knight. The House of Randell won’t tolerate her carefree nature the way I do. If she joins the Randell Fief, what else can she do but be your flower vase? Will you appoint her as the Steward of salmon-catching and salmon-baking?”

Victor gave a bitter smile. “Must you be so harsh and cutting?”

“My dear, a moment of soft-heartedness on your part might not lead to the life Natalia wants.” Sophia held Victor’s hand and, tilting her head, smiled. “As the master of the house of the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence, is Natalia the only one you care about? I have seven other knights and forty-three apprentice knights under my command. Perhaps they would be more willing to serve the Gold-Eyed Earl.”

“I only care about Natalia.” Victor made it clear he had no intention of poaching from the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence. But seeing a look of disappointment, rather than relief, on Sophia’s face, he asked suspiciously, “You aren’t being serious, are you?”

Sophia nodded silently. She raised her hands to undo her updo, letting her purple hair fall to her shoulders before retying it into a simple ponytail. She began to speak.

“I once swore an oath at Brinol Cathedral that in fifteen years, I would return the Wimbledon Merchant Association to Aerie Fortress. I’ve been busy pulling out my confidants and the association’s key personnel to form The Golden Company. But The Golden Company is, after all, operating under the guise of an Urban Freemen’s merchant group. The knights of the Marchioness’s residence cannot openly manage an organization of freemen merchants. There are some among them I cannot fully trust, and these Knight-Nobles don’t yet know The Golden Company’s secret. As their liege lord, I must find a place to settle them.”

Victor pondered for a moment, then took Sophia’s slender hand and smiled. “A husband and wife shouldn’t make each other guess at their intentions.”

Her pearly white teeth bit gently on her red lip as Sophia said, her eyes filled with a smile, “My confidants consist of only five initial-rank knights and thirty-two apprentice knights. The other three knights and eleven apprentice knights joined the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence later, after the Church announced your promotion to a Highness…”

The Wimbledon Merchant Association had always maintained a public promise: any free knight who served the association for five years had the right to voluntarily join the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence and become the Marchioness’s Vassal. Because of this promise, the Gambis Royal Family and the great lords continually used the Wimbledon Merchant Association to absorb promising free Knight-Nobles, who often hailed from minor families in foreign kingdoms. Those left over were older, less promising Wild Knights. As long as they muddled through five years in the merchant association, Sophia had no right to refuse their fealty. In recent years, although Sophia was no longer so quick to recruit free knights, the Wimbledon Merchant Association still had some of these knights left over.

“I don’t think much of them, and they don’t think much of the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence. They still cling to the hope of serving a better master and haven’t asked to join. However, they’ve been diligent enough in their duties that I have no excuse to expel them. When my husband was promoted to a Highness, those dozen or so knights whose term of service was up all offered me their fealty.”

Sophia sneered. “I know what these people are thinking. They know I’m going to give up the Wimbledon Merchant Association and assume I’ll turn to expanding my territory. They aren’t qualified to swear fealty to His Highness Randell, so swearing fealty to His Highness’s wife is the next best choice. What angers me most is, are they so certain I can’t become a Highness myself? If I were to meet with Annihilation, their object of fealty would become you and my offspring, or your relatives, which is tantamount to swearing fealty to His Highness Randell.”

Victor couldn’t help but laugh. “They do have some self-awareness.”

“You’re still laughing?”

Gently biting his ear, Sophia sighed, “It wouldn’t be hard for me to win them over with a show of grace, but I detest their slickness. I don’t plan to use them, but I can’t just support them for nothing either… They do nothing and still collect a stipend from the Marchioness’s residence every month. That’s too good a deal for them. Besides, Knight-Nobles with nothing to do all day will always start getting other ideas. In the long run, they’ll cause trouble for the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence… I want to send them off to Goldwater City, far from the eyes of the House of Auguste. I don’t trust them, but I can still take their descendants under my wing and raise them for them.”

“Hmm, house arrest and exile, just like the little Baron back in the day,” Victor said, stroking his chin in a joking tone.

Sophia knew he held no resentment, but she played along perfectly, clutching his sleeve and pleading in a low, submissive voice, “My dear, it’s all my fault. I already regret it deeply. Can we not bring up the past? You said that the formation of The Golden Company must be kept from the royal families of the kingdoms. Those men have worked for the Wimbledon Merchant Association for over five years; they still have connections. Keeping them in the Royal Capital is a liability. I can only fool Auguste’s eyes and ears by sending them out of Blinor City.”

Victor was silent for two seconds before saying seriously, “My dear, you should consider participating in the southern expansion.”

Sophia stared fixedly into Victor’s dark gold, otherworldly eyes. With a soft sigh, she laid her heart bare, “My dear, what I fear most is you shaking my knight’s conviction.”

“Alright, let’s talk about something else.”

Victor shrugged his shoulders and decisively changed the subject. “The great lords of the kingdoms have sent envoys to congratulate me on becoming a Guardian of Gambis. Sylvia has been receiving them and their gifts on my behalf these past few days. According to etiquette, I will host a banquet for them. As the Countess of Randell, shouldn’t you be shouldering this responsibility?”

“…This.” Sophia was at a loss for words, feeling deeply troubled.

Victor had temporarily severed the connection between The Bear Company and the Wimbledon Merchant Association. Sasan’s Bronze-Halberd City and Dodor’s Dwemic family had begun to cooperate with Sophia to some extent, allowing her confidants, in the guise of freemen merchants, to invest heavily in building a public transport system within the spheres of influence of Bronze-Halberd City and Stonetooth City.

Monopolizing the public transport system in the border fiefs of the kingdoms was a critical part of The Golden Company’s plan to exclude other freemen caravans. The local resident priests guaranteed that the rights of the public carriages would not be plundered by the lords. Princess Anqi and Marquess Dwemick had made concessions to Sophia, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t sabotage The Golden Company’s public transport network. If they saw Sophia hosting guests at the Marchioness’s residence with His Highness Randell, whether they suspected her neutral stance was not important; what was certain was that they would have an excuse to go back on their word.

Sophia blinked, her expression sincere and aggrieved. “My dear, we need boundaries between us… If a lord from the Sasan Empire were to meddle in the public transport network of the Centaur Hills, how would you react?”

“Boundaries… You’re right.” Victor nodded, a smile of approval on his face. “Sophia, I’m glad you have your own judgment… In that case, do you think I would harm you? Do you think I would disregard your wishes?”

Without waiting for her reply, he continued, “Having your own judgment doesn’t mean opposing for the sake of opposition. I once thought I could unite the minor lords and control The Golden Company by myself. But Sylvia made me understand that it was impossible. Faced with trade profits and family bloodlines, those minor lords will always choose their knight’s bloodline first. For The Golden Company to grow and prosper, it must unite with the great lords of the kingdoms. I believe Sylvia’s view is correct, so I changed The Golden Company’s development strategy.”

“The four Guardians of Gambis are divided into two camps: the royal family and the queen’s family. If Sylvia and I, and Goron and Roland, all insisted on our own ideas, wouldn’t we be unable to decide anything? The Guardians must use their own judgment to determine the overall strategy for the Kingdom of Gambis, and our shared status as Highnesses of Gambis is the basis for resolving our differences and reaching a consensus… The precondition is trust, and then we listen to whoever makes the most sense.”

“I agree that The Golden Company and the Centaur Hills need boundaries, but how can the boundaries between a husband and wife ever be clearly drawn?” Victor stared into Sophia’s eyes, his gaze burning as he asked, “You are my wife. I will not spare anyone who dares to covet or conspire against you. Do you believe I am not worthy of your trust?”

Victor was no longer a harmless partner. If she didn’t trust him, how could she bear an heir of a noble bloodline with him?

Sophia nodded without hesitation. “I trust you.”

“Then you might as well listen to my judgment.”

Victor’s brow smoothed out. “Besides you, me, and Sylvia, no one else can see the full picture of The Golden Company. This means that what others see is what we want them to see. Weren’t you just asking how I would react if a Sasan lord interfered with the public transport system in the Centaur Hills? You greatly underestimate the assimilation ability of a family, of a fief. When ordinary people make a living under the watch of a lord, being assimilated is only a matter of time. This is the real reason why Bronze-Halberd City and Stonetooth City are allowing you to invest in public carriages. They don’t know The Golden Company’s overall strategy, nor are they sure what you truly want to do, but they are absolutely confident that they can control the situation within their family’s domain. Your confidants and managers are working under their noses; they can’t make any waves.”

“The Bear Company’s surprise attack on the Dwemic territory to intercept Earl Horace was a one-time event. Once a hidden power comes into the light, it can no longer pose a fatal threat to a lord. Bronze-Halberd City and the Dwemic family demanding that you divest the Wimbledon’s mercenary company was merely a test of your bottom line. That’s why I told you to ignore it, but you didn’t listen to me. In truth, they have yet to taste the sweet rewards of The Golden Company. Once the secret of the Gold Potion is revealed, they won’t leave even if you try to chase them away with a whip.”

Some of the raw ingredients for the Gold Potion had a relatively slow growth cycle, resulting in a limited supply that couldn’t meet the demand of all knights. It was bound to be an extremely rare medicine. Both Gambis and the Borrey United Kingdom were currently doing their best to stockpile the key medicinal herbs produced in Arreat. According to The Agreement reached between Gambis, Borrey, and Pope Clement, the secret of the Gold Potion could not be revealed until the stockpiling of herbs was complete. Otherwise, Gambis and Borrey, the two most remote southern kingdoms, would not hesitate to resort to war to fight for the distribution rights of the raw materials.

In the future, no matter how the kingdoms allocated the raw materials for the Gold Potion, Sophia would have a significant say in the matter. The member families of The Golden Company would naturally rally around the Marchioness.

Sophia nodded, abashed. “I know… I’ve been avoiding talking about this with you… I was worried you would try to control me. I wanted to keep these as my trump card for negotiating with you.”

“So you finally admit you were guarding against me.” Victor praised her with a gentle smile. “It’s right for you to be on guard against me. We are not an ordinary couple; we are two different lords. If you can’t maintain your own sense of self, how can you advance to Gold Knight? But you can judge that I bear you no malice, and your trump card is nearly unshakeable… You have my support, and the support of the barbarians. The Golden Company can belong to no one but you. Since that’s the case, why not consider a more long-term problem?”

“What problem?” Sophia asked curiously.

“My dear, when The Golden Company is in the shadows, you are in the light. When The Golden Company is in the light, you will retreat behind the scenes. Nominally, it is an organization of freemen merchants. Even if everyone knows you hold the power in The Golden Company, no one can expose it, and it would be useless if they did… Sophia Wimbledon is still a Court Marquess of Gambis. As one of the five great royals of Blinor, you must consider the matter of an heir, and also the balance between the political interests of the Marchioness’s residence and The Golden Company.”

After Victor finished, Sophia fell into deep thought. The marginalized Marchioness Wimbledon could form The Golden Company, but any royal family’s participation in it would be met with strong resistance from other kingdoms. However, once she controlled The Golden Company and arranged for her heir, she could aim for the Gold realm. Yet, a Gold Knight would never be marginalized. In that case, how would Her Highness Sophia Wimbledon face Aerie Fortress? How would the Marchioness’s residence, in control of The Golden Company, balance its interests with the political interests of the Gambis Royal Family?

“What is your suggestion?” Sophia pouted helplessly. She couldn’t think of a solution and could only turn to Victor for help.

Victor smiled. “I once served as a buffer between Aerie Fortress and the York family, but I can’t anymore… The Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence, however, can act as a buffer between the Gambis royal family and the queen’s family. Only in this way can the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence maintain its special status in the Gambis Empire for a long time, neither leaning toward the queen’s family nor favoring House Auguste.”

Sophia’s eyes lit up. She asked in a soft, nasal tone, “My dear, is this the position you’ve arranged for our child? What should I do, specifically?”

“Go to the Regent,” Victor said with complete confidence. “Ask Aerie Fortress for a little attendant. We will adopt him in both our names and give him the second right of inheritance to the Marchioness’s residence.”

The second heir was, in effect, the betrothed partner of the heir to the Wimbledon Marchioness. Victor had not chosen the York family, but had instead made House Auguste the Marchioness’s residence’s marriage partner, fundamentally dispelling Sophia’s wariness of him.

As expected, Sophia’s eyes curved into crescents as she said, “Mm, I need to discuss this with my advisor.”

The Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence once had advisors, but they were loyal to the old Marquess and had long been sent by Sophia to the Marchioness’s residence’s fief. Victor asked, amused, “You have an advisor? Have them come and pay their respects to the master of the house.”

Sophia shot her husband a flirtatious glance and brought her red lips to his ear, whispering, “My dear, my advisor just went to prepare your hot water. You’ll be able to see her in a little while.”

“It’s fine, I can wait,” Victor teased, then changed the subject. “You acted as guarantor for the Moon Bear family to secure the procurement rights for the Iron brick technology… That two million four hundred thousand Gold Sols, you need to give it to us as soon as possible.”

“The Moon Bear family promised me they would return the two million four hundred thousand Gold Sols within three months. If you need it now, I can scrape it together for you within a month. Are you satisfied, Your Highness Randell?” Sophia said coquettishly.

“Three months is fine… You don’t need to rush to pay it back.”

Victor gave two dry laughs and explained, “This money belongs to the Double-Headed Dragon Merchant Association. According to the House of Randell’s shares, I’ll only get one million of it… The Nim family, the Wellington family, and the August family don’t have to pay. The Chepman family and the Joshua family have each already paid two hundred thousand Gold Sols… Just now, Duke Ludwig paid Sylvia the full six hundred thousand Gold Sols. Andre of Borui, Countess Dori de Keiser of Naville, and Earl Blanstait of Sus have all sent knights back to raise the funds. Only the debt from Earl Moon Bear am I left to claim from you, his guarantor.”

Sophia nodded and asked in confusion, “What does the Centaur Hills need so much gold for? Don’t you know that the various families will just earn that money back by selling you inflated goods?”

An ordinary lord certainly wouldn’t trade Iron brick technology for gold coins, but Victor could use millions of gold coins to create alchemical creatures. He grinned. “Tell them not to raise their prices, or the prices of raw sugar, Purple Cane wine, and refined iron will all go up.”

Sophia burst out laughing. She took the initiative to sit on Victor’s lap, wrapped her arms around his neck, and said, “As you wish, my Highness.”

“We don’t need any boundaries. You will host a grand banquet at the Marchioness’s residence in your capacity as the Countess of Randell to entertain my honored guests.”

“Alright.”

“Tomorrow, I’ll need to use your manor outside the city to entertain Patriarch Tamor and His Highness Andre. Sylvia, Roland, and Goron will all be there. You will come with me as well.”

“Alright… Does the Gold-Eyed Earl have any other commands?”

“Uh… No, that’s all.”

Sophia’s stunning face magnified in Victor’s view. Her eyes shimmered, her red lips parted slightly, her breath fragrant like orchids and musk as she earnestly advised:

“My dear Lord Gold-Eyed Earl, a husband and wife don’t need boundaries… We need an heir.”

Chapter 580: Flowing Leaf Manor

The next afternoon, a troop of cavalry escorted two enclosed carriages into the Wimbledon Marchioness’s manor outside the city.

This holiday manor was far from the bustling city, backed by a sparse deciduous forest with a clear stream flowing before it. Along the riverbanks, two rows of tall plane trees had been transplanted. It was late autumn, and the trees were a brilliant gold. Half-withered leaves spiraled down into the river, drifting away with the current. The patchwork of colorful trees partially concealed a grey stone villa, painting a picturesque autumn scene.

Williams patted his mount’s neck. The unassuming piebald horse obligingly lifted its foreleg, allowing its master to use it as a step to dismount.

“I haven’t visited the Wimbledons’ Flowing Leaf Manor in thirteen years… It’s as beautiful as ever.”

The Regent’s tone was filled with emotion. He hadn’t visited the Marchioness Wimbledon’s country manor in over a decade because of his strained relationship with her. Back then, Sophia had supported Queen Catherine and opposed the kingdom’s Grand Duke succeeding to the throne, so naturally, the Marchioness Wimbledon would not have invited him as a guest. Later, when the Prince’s Faction and the Grand Duke’s Faction reached an accord and reconciled, his relationship with Sophia, far from improving, actually worsened.

Come to think of it, Sophia’s relationships with the great lords were all distant. Besides Victor, there was almost no one truly willing to support her, yet she had offended a great many powerful factions. Aerie Fortress, the Five Great Families of Borea, and House Ludwig and House DeWeimik of Dodor had all suffered setbacks at her hands, and the Meding family from the Kingdom of Sus had once even hunted her.

This was mainly because Sophia didn’t play by the rules. The great powers’ methods of winning her over were a combination of threats and inducements, but she was a person who yielded to neither. Anyone who tried to seize her interests would be met with her forceful counterattack.

Yet, despite such a hostile external environment, Sophia had managed to thrive, and no one had any good way of dealing with her. It was truly a marvel.

But things were different now. This morning, Sophia and Victor had visited Williams together to announce that the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence was preparing to adopt an heir.

This wasn’t surprising; in fact, it was to be expected. The matter of succession was of paramount importance to any family. Sophia had one foot in the Elemental Sea and could attempt to break through to the Gold realm at any time. Before doing so, she had to have an heir. Otherwise, the enterprise she had built, all her efforts and perseverance, would be meaningless, making it impossible for her to successfully advance to Gold Knight.

Aerie Fortress had long had a contingency plan for the matter of the Wimbledon Marchioness’s heir, but with no movement from the Marchioness’s side, Williams had been completely baffled. He had ordered Night Owl to gather intelligence on Sophia, but she had taken the clergy of the Radiant Knights on a trip to the Arreat Plateau and been gone for over two years, making it impossible for Night Owl’s spies to get close to her. As for the Wimbledon Merchant Association, that massive, loosely-structured commercial organization was spread across the world. All Night Owl could gather were fragmented pieces of information, and it would take a very long time to collate, analyze, and draw any conclusions. Night Owl’s intelligence mission progressed slowly and instead ran into many of their counterparts, resulting in considerable losses on both sides. Williams knew in his heart that Night Owl would have to expand its scale tenfold to even have a chance of understanding the Wimbledon Merchant Association’s movements from the ground up.

So, when Sophia stated her intentions, Williams was overjoyed and readily agreed to select an offspring under the age of five from the Wimbledon bloodline to give to Sophia as the second heir to the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence. In fact, Aerie Fortress already had a suitable candidate: the two-year-old youngest son of Soren, the Gale Knight. Of course, the Regent wouldn’t rush to tell Sophia, lest the Marchioness again suspect Aerie Fortress of harboring ill intentions toward her.

How could a muddle-headed two-year-old toddler have any schemes or tricks? All one could say was that Williams was truly afraid of Sophia.

Whether or not Sophia and Victor would have offspring, or if she could successfully advance to a Gold Knight, remained unknown. But Williams was certain of one thing: Victor was supplying Sophia with the Blue Taro potion, meaning even if she didn’t assault the Elemental Sea, she could live to be over one hundred years old. A long-lived Marchioness Wimbledon who monopolized the trade with the barbarians was in the interest of Gambis. The only thing that gave Aerie Fortress a headache was her destructive effect on the rules of the political game.

With an heir, the Marchioness’s residence would require Sophia to arrange tutors for him, as well as Sworn Knights and retainers to grow alongside him. After he turned eight, he would enter Aerie Fortress for four years of courtly knight education to expand his network within the aristocratic circles. All of this would directly or indirectly influence the Marchioness’s residence.

In any case, this was an excellent beginning, a sign that the half-goldenized Raging Wave Knight had finally returned to playing within the rules of the political game.

Victor, too, found Sophia’s refusal to play by the book a thorny issue. She was like a beautiful female saber-toothed beast, wary of anyone who coveted her territory—even her own husband was no exception. Victor could understand the origins of Sophia’s personality, but he could not accept her obstinacy.

New Agro-husbandry, water projects, and the tenant system were all completely open and aboveboard overt schemes. They would bring tangible benefits to the various kingdoms, and almost no lord would refuse the societal changes Victor brought. It was in the process of promoting these societal changes that Victor laid his plans in advance, securing every advantage. Sylvia saw that the spread of New Agro-husbandry and the tenant system would accelerate the social division of labor, spurring the rapid development of handicrafts and trade. With this broader environment established, Victor could then rely on The Golden Company to lay the groundwork in new fields such as public transport, trade with the freemen, arming the Mountain folk, shipping on the Goldwater River, sea power, and finance.

It wasn’t that Victor said something and Sylvia simply believed it; she couldn’t fully comprehend his ideas herself. But she was not alone. She had a team of advisors behind her, providing comprehensive support for her decisions.

Only the Marchioness Wimbledon fought alone. Sophia once had advisors. The plan to use Andre’s proposal to Princess Roland as an opportunity to send the little Baron to the Centaur Hills, thereby freeing herself from Catherine’s control, was a decision she made after listening to her advisor’s counsel. It was just that her confidant, Amy May, was a secret agent for The Faceless. After Amy May’s identity was exposed and she was killed by the Boreans, Sophia could no longer trust any of the other advisors in her residence.

Victor had reminded Sophia that, besides The Golden Company, she also needed to consider the future political standing of her residence and the matter of family succession. And Sophia had actually dragged Victor to see the Regent first thing the next morning. Her decisiveness was truly formidable—or, to put it less charitably, her actions were reckless.

But what else could Sophia do? She had no one to consult. She felt Victor’s suggestion was reasonable and immediately put it into action. And one had to admit, Sophia’s intuition for seizing opportunities was exceptionally sharp. However, when it came to matters she couldn’t understand, that was another story. If Victor were to tell her The Golden Company needed to invest in ports and compete for shipping rights, she would surely have to think about it. If he told her The Golden Company needed to venture into the financial sector, she would probably have to think about that, too.

Could these matters be delayed?

Victor was relying entirely on common social knowledge from Earth to seize the high ground. However, if a freeman merchant from Quicksilver could think of a chain of candied fruit stores, then other people had clever minds as well. In fact, Victor’s strategy of basing himself in the lower rungs of society and developing The Golden Company by winning over minor families was already showing faint signs of spiraling out of control. Some freeman merchants were spontaneously making their way to Wildwillow City to find sources for goods. If The Golden Company had developed according to Victor’s initial plan, it would have been overrun by freemen merchant guilds attached to the Church and the King before it even got off the ground. Only Sophia, with her monopoly on the barbarian trade, could help The Golden Company rapidly complete its preparations, squeezing the merchant guilds’ room for survival and thereby acquiring the right to set the rules for commerce among the freemen.

Although Victor had his absolutely loyal Alchemical humans and held practical control over The Golden Company’s armed forces, and Quicksilver was constantly infiltrating its inner ranks, he wasn’t worried about Sophia seizing control of the company. However, when it came to The Golden Company’s overall decision-making, he had no time to dither with the wild and untamed Sophia Urus.

So, Victor simply found something else for Sophia to do, drawing her into the political arena of Gambis to keep her from focusing all her attention on The Golden Company.

The benefit of doing this was that it would simultaneously divert the attention of both the Gambis Royal Family and Sophia. Sophia’s struggles against the families of the Four Great Princes would particularly require a team of advisors. It would take her at least a dozen years to cultivate her own, and during this period, Victor would be the chief advisor to the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence.

And, if Sophia was disobedient, Victor wouldn’t mind letting her suffer a small defeat at the hands of the Four Great Princes to teach her a lesson.

Having Sophia personally participate in the southern expansion negotiations between Patriarch Tamor, the Borrey United Kingdom, and Gambis was Victor’s entry point for guiding the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence into the political landscape of Gambis.

The families of the Four Great Princes had no right to participate in negotiations between the Protectors of the Kingdom.

“It’s been about nine years since I last relaxed at Flowing Leaf Manor.” Victor hopped down from his Swiftbird mount, took Sylvia’s slender hand to help her down from the back of the Dire Swiftbird, Hercules, and only then helped Sophia.

“The last time I visited Flowing Leaf Manor was eight years ago.” Andre Christopher dismounted, glanced around, and nodded with a smile. He placed a hand over his chest in a salute to Sophia. “It is my honor to once again appreciate the beauty of Flowing Leaf Manor.”

This prince from the Kingdom of Borea had golden hair, deep amber eyes, a handsome face, and an elegant bearing. His every move was filled with captivating charm. If Victor was the dream partner of a high-ranking female knight—handsome, mysterious, and noble like the sun in the sky, which mortals could not look upon directly—then Andre was the dream lover of noble young ladies, completely fulfilling all their fantasies of a prince on a white horse.

Sophia gave a faint nod in response. She had used Andre and had also tried to woo him, but Andre, in turn, had schemed against her, which led to Amy May being killed by Marquess Ephesus. Although Amy May was a spy planted by her side by Aerie Fortress, she could not tolerate the Boreans executing her knight without her permission.

As a Raging Wave Knight with a fiery temperament, Sophia naturally wouldn’t give Andre a warm reception.

Victor wasn’t as petty as Sophia. At that time, he had no real connection to her, and he certainly wasn’t going to take on her personal grudges. He chimed in, “It is also our honor that His Highness Andre and Patriarch Tamor grace Flowing Leaf Manor with their presence.”

“Hehe, Flowing Leaf Manor has a history of nearly two hundred years. It once belonged to the Leopold family as a holiday manor. It is exceptionally rare for its classical style to have been so perfectly preserved. Victor, I’ve heard that the architecture and layout of Silver Moon Manor are unique, not only leading a new architectural school but also pioneering a palatial style for noble manors. If I have the chance, I would very much like to admire the scenery of Silver Moon Manor.” Accompanied by two high-ranking Sacred Warriors, Tamor walked forward and said with a chuckle.

He appeared to be in his thirties, with a strong build and a round face that was always smiling, giving a first impression of being cordial and easygoing. He was the youngest of the three Patriarchs, his actual age not yet sixty. In the Curia, which operated on a system based on seniority, for Tamor to have reached the position of Patriarch was a clear testament to his extraordinary ability and skill.

“Silver Moon Manor awaits the honor of Patriarch Tamor’s visit,” Victor replied courteously.

“Silver Moon Manor is just big. It occupies an entire valley, plus three hills.” Princess Royal Roland leaped down from her majestic, all-gold leonine unicorn. Her eyes, as beautiful as a jade lake, circled the Dire Swiftbird Hercules twice as she chattered on, “The Osvid Manor I designed is much more interesting than Silver Moon Manor.”

“Wasn’t Osvid Manor designed by my Lover?” Sylvia linked her arm with Victor’s, a gentle smile that seemed to make the very sunlight brighter.

“Well, my student assisted me in designing Osvid Manor… he worked as my assistant.” The princess generously shared some of the credit with Victor, then made a small request, “Sylvia, lend me Hercules to play with for a few days. I’ll pledge my ‘Golden Fleece’ to you as collateral.”

The unicorn let out a low, dissatisfied growl and was promptly bopped on the head by the princess.

“Don’t even think about it,” Sylvia said with a sweet smile.

“Hmph, stingy.” Roland pouted, and her small foot in its delicate riding boot kicked a stone, sending it skipping across the water to the opposite bank.

Marquess Golan cleared his throat and raised a hand. “Ahem, let’s go inside the villa to talk.”

“Why go to all the trouble of going in just to come back out? Let’s see the gift Andre prepared for Victor first,” Roland said, her gaze turning toward the enclosed carriage guarded by the Borean knights, her expression eager.

Tamor and Andre exchanged a look, then nodded and asked, “What are His Highness Randall’s thoughts?”

“As the princess wishes,” Victor said with a smile, making a slight gesture toward Roland with his arm.

Andre flashed a sunny smile and beckoned to his retainer knights, signaling them to bring the carriage over.

“I believe you esteemed lords have already sensed the gift we have prepared for His Highness Randall… a living barbarian.”

“Open it.”

A Borean knight took out a key, unlocked the heavy iron door of the enclosed carriage, and dragged out a cage forged from refined iron. It scraped across the carriage floor with a piercing shriek. With a loud thud, the heavy cage slammed onto the packed earth.

The pupils of Victor’s dark gold, mismatched eyes dilated, and an expression of shock appeared on his face.

Chapter 581: The Orc Brute Fighter

The cage was forged entirely from refined iron, its bars as thick as a toddler’s arm. A glance was enough to tell it was extremely sturdy. Inside the cage lay a humanoid creature. It was 1.73 meters tall and wore only a pair of hide shorts. Its hands and feet resembled a human’s, but its fingernails were sharp claws. Its spine seemed naturally curved forward, unable to straighten, giving it a stooped posture. It had broad shoulders and arms, a short, thick neck, and its entire body was packed with solid, full muscles that seemed to contain explosive power. Its skin was dark red and hairless, with a keratinized texture. It was covered in dark red, almost black, patches of various sizes. The keratinization was particularly pronounced on its shoulders, back, and chest, forming a kind of natural armor. It had high brow ridges and cheekbones, deep-set eyes, a flat nose, and pointed ears. Its facial features were coarse and fearsome. On top of its head, the keratinized skin had piled up to form two horn-like protrusions.

This Barbarian seemed to be in a deep sleep. Victor couldn’t see its eyes, but from its physical appearance alone, he could sense a ferocious, savage, and valiant quality.

Princess Roland crouched in front of the cage. Her slender, fair hand reached through the bars, grabbed one of its horns, and pulled it closer. She poked its eyelid with a finger, then shamelessly pried open its lips to reveal sharp canine teeth. Then, with a look of disgust, she stood up, pouted, and said contemptuously:

“So this is what Barbarians look like? How ugly… Hmph, hmph, now I believe the rumors that the ancestral knight of House Neo Wester was abducted by Barbarians and had a bunch of Barbarian-blooded Neo Westers with a Barbarian princess.”

According to legend, Elves were elegant and beautiful, while Barbarians were brutish and ugly. Humans generally favored Elves and despised Barbarians. But Barbarians were, after all, a race that had intermarried with ancient knights. No matter how unattractive they were, they couldn’t possibly look like this.

Hairless, armored, horned, with sharp teeth and claws, it looked like a demon that had crawled out of Hell. Even in its slumber, it naturally exuded a terrifying and ferocious aura. Fortunately, the three ladies present were all powerful high-ranking female knights. If a woman from Earth were to suddenly see this monster, she would probably be screaming in terror.

Strictly speaking, this Barbarian’s physique was strong, not deformed. Its body was naturally symmetrical and perfectly suited for combat. At least in Victor’s eyes, it displayed a unique, violent beauty.

However, its physiological characteristics were too different from humans. It didn’t look like a branch of the human race at all. How could it possibly interbreed with humans?

Roland was no ordinary noble lady. As a Gold Knight approaching the legendary realm, she too could perceive the essence of a life’s level. The aesthetic sense originating from the procreation instinct would not affect the mind of a Gold Knight. The princess of Gambis, in front of Patriarch Tamor, linked the ugly and lowly Barbarians to the Neo Westers, displaying her disdain, which was actually a negotiating tactic.

This princess hates the Neo Westers. If you want to persuade Gambis to cooperate with the Randt Imperial territory on the southern expansion, you’ll have to show more sincerity. Start by making this princess happy.

Roland had raised the bar for negotiations in advance, but Andre had his own conversational rhythm. Facing Victor, he smiled elegantly. “Your Highness Randell, the Elves have retreated far into the Endless Forest. Only a noble with an elven bloodline like yourself can prove that the Elves truly exist in this world, and are not just figures of legend. But the Barbarians… they have always been right beside us, separated only by the Goldwater River.”

“When it comes to understanding the Barbarians, not even the great scholars of the Silver Spire can compare to us Knights of Borea. For nearly ninety years, we have been fighting the Barbarians on the south bank of the Goldwater River. I myself have led my retainers to the South Shore many times to strike at Barbarian strongholds.”

Andre paused, his gaze shifting to the Barbarian in the cage. He continued, “The Barbarians are divided into two different groups: the Northern Barbarians and the Southern Barbarians. What you all see now is a native Barbarian of the Southern Continent… Compared to humans, their appearance is coarse and ugly, but they are more human-like than Centaurs, Satyrs, Bear-monsters, Kobolds, or Gnolls. We call the Southern Barbarians ‘Orcs’.”

“This is an Orc. They are the majority among the Barbarians of the Southern Continent. The Northern Barbarians are a minority.”

Beastmen were the great enemies of the human kingdoms, impossible to communicate or compromise with. Andre defining the Southern Barbarians as Orcs expressed the Kingdom of Borea’s strong hostility and contempt for them, echoing Roland’s earlier comments.

Orcs are a lowly race, our common enemy.

The lords of Gambis were well aware of Andre and Tamor’s intentions. Southern Barbarians or Orcs, it didn’t matter. Since Gambis had decided to expand south of the river and seize the vast lands of the Southern Continent, the local native races were all potential enemies of Gambis. And the Southern Continent had more than just Orcs; there were many other strange beastmen races.

Loose beastmen tribes were obviously easier to deal with than an Orc kingdom. When the armies of Gambis entered the Southern Continent, to the various southern native races, they were just another competitor. But when the Kingdom of Borea’s army landed at the Great River Bend, they would become the sole competitor to the Orc kingdom.

The Gambis army, landing from Lake Fies, had the objective conditions to establish a firm foothold. The Kingdom of Borea would have to defeat the Orc kingdom first.

Victor cut short the discussion about defining the Orcs and said with a curious expression, “It looks very strong.”

“Not just strong, but also very dangerous.”

Andre smiled and nodded, explaining, “As you can see from its physical structure, Orcs are a born race of fighters. The exaggerated muscles provide explosive power far surpassing that of a human soldier, the thick bones can withstand immense pressure, and the tough skin is enough to resist a volley of crossbow bolts… Its strength is three times that of an ordinary person, equivalent to an initial-rank apprentice knight who has resonated with four Elemental Nodes. In addition, it has a powerful combat talent—Bloodrage.”

Ancient texts recorded that the Barbarians had their own legacy of power, and the core of this system was the Bloodrage talent.

Bloodrage had many branches and variations and could be divided into levels. This was what distinguished it from the racial talents of beastmen, making it closer to the knightly legacy of humans. Just like the difference between Knight-Nobles and Commoners, not all Barbarians possessed the Bloodrage talent. Those who mastered Bloodrage were called Brute Fighters by humans.

The Gambis Kingdom was preparing for its southern expansion, so it naturally had to gather information on the Southern Continent’s Barbarians through various channels. As far as Victor knew, the abilities of Brute Fighters were rather complex. Some could reduce damage; some could enhance strength and speed; some could enhance their spirit attribute; some could communicate with supernatural forces, and so on. As a Brute Fighter’s Bloodrage level increased, the effects of their abilities would be enhanced, and they would develop a wider variety of abilities. However, Gambis had limited knowledge of how the Brute Fighter’s power system was classified in detail.

The Kingdom of Borea had sent over a living Brute Fighter, which immediately sparked the intense interest of the four Guardians and Sophia.

“Let it out. I want to see this Brute Fighter’s real combat capabilities,” Sylvia commanded coolly. Everyone present felt her unquestionable will.

“Alright! I’ll test its Bloodrage talent myself,” Roland said, clenching her small, fair fists, eager to try.

Andre nodded to his retainer knight, then turned to Roland. “Your Highness, the princess, this Brute Fighter is no match for a Knight. To get a clear look at its combat strength, it would be best to send an initial-rank apprentice knight or an elite retainer soldier to fight it.”

Marquess Golan’s expression grew slightly solemn. He asked in a deep voice, “Your Highness Christopher, do you mean to say that this kind of Brute Fighter is common in the Barbarian Kingdom, ordinary, and only equivalent to a human an Elite Soldier?”

Andre nodded and said with a smile, “Only by observing the most basic individual can we understand the overall strength of the Barbarians.”

Just then, the Borean knight opened the cage, dragged the sleeping Brute Fighter to the ground, took out a potion from his pocket, uncorked it, and held it under the Brute Fighter’s nose.

A foul smell spread through the air. Some of the surrounding soldiers couldn’t help but frown. Andre explained, “An Orc’s head is as hard as ironwood, so dull-witted that it’s difficult to knock it unconscious. A servant of the Supreme Lord used a sleep-inducing divine art on it so that we could transport it to Gambis unharmed. The juice of the Stink-mud Flower can wake it from its slumber.”

“Are Orcs immune to being knocked unconscious?” Victor asked in a low voice.

“Not exactly. Compared to human warriors, by the time you manage to knock out an Orc, you’ll have certainly cracked its skull,” Patriarch Tamor said with a grin. He was undoubtedly emphasizing the fact that an Orc’s physique was tougher than a human’s.

On the ground, the Orc Brute Fighter, stimulated by the scent of the Stink-mud Flower, twitched its flat nostrils and snapped its eyes open. Its pupils were very large, almost filling its entire eye sockets, leaving only a white ring around the deep brown, almost earthy color. It had just awoken, its gaze unfocused and dazed yet filled with violence and rage. It parted its thin lips, about to roar in anger at being woken by the stench, but then it saw an exquisitely beautiful face right in front of it, looking at it with curiosity. With a yelp, it scrambled back into the iron cage and even shut the door, creating the comical sight of a wild beast turning into a kitten.

Roland pouted, stood up, and turned to everyone, saying in confusion, “Are Brute Fighters this timid?”

“You scared it,” Victor coughed, then added, “It seems the high-ranking female knights of the Kingdom of Borea have given the Orcs quite a lesson.”

Roland’s raised little eyebrows relaxed. With one arm across her chest and the other supporting her beautifully curved chin, she said with a look of longing, “Being the main character in an Orc’s horror story… that seems pretty cool.”

Marquess Golan ignored the distracted Roland and ordered a Mystic Warrior behind him, “Markel, go test the Brute Fighter… Be careful, but don’t deliberately kill it.”

“As you command, my lord.”

The Mystic Warrior caught a shield tossed to him by a colleague, drew the longsword at his waist, and strode to the front of the cage. But the Orc Brute Fighter clung to the iron door, refusing to come out no matter what.

Sylvia smiled at Roland, her teasing tone obvious. “It seems you’ve scared it quite badly.”

Roland’s cheeks puffed out in anger. “This princess is peerlessly beautiful.”

“Perhaps the opposite is true in the eyes of an Orc.”

“Hmph, you’re no different.”

Sophia’s willow-like brows furrowed, and she interjected, “It might be a Savage Orc, sensitive to danger.”

“Countess, this is an ordinary Orc Brute Fighter. As His Highness Randell said, it is indeed afraid of high-ranking human knights and judges their status based on their beauty.” Andre explained politely, then nodded at the middle-aged scholar beside him.

It seems the aesthetic sense of the Southern Barbarians is similar to that of humans. Then why does it look like this? Its body structure seems to have traces of being sculpted by an external force, deliberately shaped into a form suitable for combat… A thought flashed through Victor’s mind, but he didn’t ask it aloud, instead focusing on the middle-aged scholar’s actions.

He walked to the front of the cage and began to communicate with the Orc Brute Fighter in a strangely accented language. The Orc initially shook its head repeatedly, but as it listened, the fear in its eyes was replaced by fanaticism. With a low roar, it pulled open the iron door and voluntarily climbed out of the cage.

Victor memorized the phonetic characteristics of the Barbarian language. As the middle-aged scholar was returning, he asked with feigned curiosity, “Scholar James, you just said three sentences to the Orc, and it recovered its fighting spirit. Could you translate them for me?”

The middle-aged scholar was taken aback. He stopped and bowed respectfully. “Your Highness, the three Barbarian phrases I spoke were: ‘You are like a timid crow, afraid to touch the ground without carrion… A true warrior does not fear the Earth Mother’s embrace… The Earth Mother yearns to bury your enemies…’ We will send out warriors to accept the warrior’s challenge, one by one, until we send you into the Earth Mother’s embrace.”

“Earth Mother?”

Sylvia’s eyes flashed, and she said pensively, “I once traveled alone through the Northern Wildlands and slaughtered a small Centaur tribe. I remember those Centaur warriors also had keratinized tissue on their shoulders like armor.” She paused, then turned to Patriarch Tamor and asked, “It is rumored that Centaurs commonly worship an ancient divine being named Mother Earth… Is She the same as the Orcs’ Earth Mother?”

Patriarch Tamor chuckled. “The beastmen worship a wide variety of false gods. Whether the Centaurs’ Mother Earth is the same as the Orcs’ Earth Mother, I cannot be certain. However, the Southern Barbarians and the Centaurs of the Southern Continent are hostile to each other, constantly fighting and killing without mercy. Moreover, the vocal organs of the Southern Barbarians are close to those of humans, completely different from Centaurs. They cannot communicate through language.”

Mother Earth? In Reno’s Will Side, the Centaurs are the blood-kin of Mother Earth, but the Alchemical humans have no data on Barbarians. This means that during the era of the Alchemical Empire, Barbarians were not an enemy the Alchemists needed to be wary of… Perhaps the Barbarians had not yet been born, or perhaps, as I suspect, Elves and Barbarians are both branches evolved from primordial humans, with similar physiological structures that allow for interbreeding… Then why do the Orc Brute Fighter and the Centaur warriors have the same keratinized armor? What is the relationship between primordial humans and Mother Earth? If Mother Earth is a pan-conscious deity, who is spreading Her holy name? Could it be something like the bloodline memory of the Old Ogre?

Victor’s thoughts were in turmoil, but his expression remained calm as he nodded to the middle-aged scholar. At that moment, the Orc Brute Fighter let out a deafening roar, drawing everyone’s attention. It was babbling something. Victor could make out the three words “Warrior,” “Earth Mother,” and “bury.” After listening to the Brute Fighter’s words, the Borean scholar said, “It wants an iron hammer as a weapon.”

“Give it to him,” Marquess Golan said concisely.

A Mystic Warrior threw the two-handed heavy hammer in his hands through the air. The Brute Fighter caught the hammer, which glowed with a faint blue light, in one hand and stroked it affectionately, as if it was very fond of it.

Thump.

Markel, the Mystic Warrior from Aerie Fortress, struck his sword and shield together, letting out a muffled thump to declare his challenge.

The Orc snapped its head up. Its brown eyes were now tinged with red. The dark red spots on its skin spread out, and its entire body turned from dark red to a bright, flushed red. That crimson color was like living blood flowing over its skin. A wild aura instantly erupted from its body.

Markel was a full 1.88 meters tall, a whole head taller than the Brute Fighter. He had a sturdy build, wore a suit of refined iron chainmail over Vine-hide hard armor, had a steady stance, and his eyes were as cold and indifferent as those of a newly created Alchemical militia. His entire being radiated a grim and ruthless aura. But in front of his opponent, he gave the direct impression of being at a disadvantage; at least in terms of presence, he was losing to the Orc Brute Fighter.

The Orc let out a low roar, gripped the heavy hammer with both hands, and, generating force from its waist and hips, swung it straight at the fully armored Markel. Its attack was crude and simple, holding nothing back and leaving multiple openings, but its strength lay in its sheer power and weight. The iron hammer whizzed through the air with a brutal sound, crashing down on its opponent’s head.

A full-force, two-handed heavy hammer against a one-handed sword and shield. Even an initial-rank knight wouldn’t choose to block the Brute Fighter’s hammer blow head-on. Even if the metal-rimmed Iron-oak shield and his bones could withstand the blow, his calves would be driven into the ground.

Before the power of the Brute Fighter’s hammer strike reached its peak, Markel skillfully took a gliding step forward. He slammed his shield sideways into the Orc’s grip on the hammer handle. The ferocious force sent the Orc stumbling and off-balance, its chest and abdomen wide open. The Mystic Warrior executed a flawless horizontal slash followed by a Counter-Slash. The sharp blade struck the Orc’s unarmored body, once on the waist and abdomen, and a second time on its side ribs.

The Mystic Warrior’s martial skills were practiced to perfection, truly exquisite. Victor had no doubt about his strength and technique, but the spots where he had struck the Orc only showed two white marks, which were covered by the flowing red in the next second.

Unscathed!

Markel was not an Alchemical human, after all. Having struck his opponent without causing any effective damage, he was understandably stunned by the unexpected situation, which defied common sense. In that moment, his move was spent, and his new strength had not yet gathered, while the Brute Fighter gave a savage grin and swung its hammer in a counterattack.

The Mystic Warrior’s offensive and defensive rhythm shattered in an instant. The Orc attacked without defending, each hammer blow heavier than the last, its fierce assault like a raging storm, giving him no chance to recover. Markel’s footwork was erratic as he was pushed back. Three consecutive beautiful counterattacks were fruitless, and the disruption of his rhythm repeated itself. Fortunately, the Brute Fighter’s martial skills were crude. He began to employ a tactic of evasion and shield parries, intending to wear down his opponent’s stamina. However, the Orc’s battle cries were incessant. It fought more and more ferociously, its stamina seemingly endless, and the crimson on its skin grew even deeper. Finally, it swung its hammer in an upward slash, striking the Mystic Warrior’s shield head-on.

The battered Iron-oak shield shattered into pieces. Markel stumbled back, unable to control himself, his entire defensive posture broken. The Orc let out a furious roar, lunged forward, raised its iron hammer high, and brought it crashing down towards Markel’s head.

Just as the Mystic Warrior was about to have his brains smashed, Sophia was about to strike and kill the furiously blazing Orc. But then, its eyes rolled back, revealing large whites. The flushing red flowing over its skin rapidly faded, and its steps became wobbly. After stumbling in a few circles, it fell weakly to the ground, unconscious.

The dark red at the edge of Sylvia’s irises faded away. She smiled and commented, “The Orc’s strength is on par with Markel’s, three times that of an ordinary person. Its martial skills and agility are not worth mentioning… Its Bloodrage is quite interesting—damage reduction, enhanced combat intuition, and increased stamina.”

Roland walked over and crouched down again, carefully observing the Orc’s eyes. She exclaimed with concern, “Its eyes don’t seem like they’ll roll back… Sylvia, your Spirit Thrust hit it, didn’t it? It hasn’t turned into an idiot, has it? That would be no fun.”

“How could I turn it into an idiot? Its body and soul still hold many secrets for us to uncover,” Sylvia said nonchalantly.

Marquess Golan relaxed and turned to the Mystic Warrior. “Markel, you fought well… You have a fracture in your left forearm. Go find a priest in the back for treatment.”

The Mystic Warrior from Aerie Fortress bowed and retreated. The Personal Guard of House of Randell stuffed the unconscious Brute Fighter back into the iron cage, put a new lock on it, and carried the cage away.

It was now the property of His Highness Randell.

Marquess Golan asked Andre, “A level one Brute Fighter?”

“Level one.”

“Is this the Barbarians’ most basic type of soldier?”

Andre pondered for a moment, then said with an elegant smile, “One couldn’t say the most basic. Every adult Northern and Southern Barbarian is a warrior… The Barbarian Kingdom now has a professional army. A level one Brute Fighter’s status in it is equivalent to our Elite Soldiers. On average, one in twenty Barbarians is a Brute Fighter. Also, the ratio of Barbarians entering a Savage state is one in two hundred, and every Savage Barbarian is a Brute Fighter.”

Marquess Golan nodded, his expression grave. “Ninety-four years ago, the old Duke Christopher’s defeat was not unjust.”

Andre said in a deep voice, “The Christopher family has always considered the loss of Vanguard Fortress a disgrace.”

Although Markel was not the top Mystic Warrior of Aerie Fortress, he still had the strength of an initial-rank apprentice knight. There were two reasons for his loss to the level one Brute Fighter. First, he didn’t understand his opponent’s abilities. Second, he was following Marquess Golan’s orders and lacked the resolve to kill. If he had used a devastating Thrust, he certainly could have broken through the Brute Fighter’s defense. But when Victor assessed their respective advantages and disadvantages, he believed that if they were to meet in a narrow pass, the more likely outcome was the Mystic Warrior’s death and the Brute Fighter’s serious injury. The second most likely outcome was mutual destruction. The least likely possibility was for Markel to emerge completely victorious.

However, a level one Brute Fighter was comparable to an Elite Soldier, not a Mystic Warrior cultivated at the cost of three thousand Gold Sols! What about a Brute Fighter in a Savage state? A level two Brute Fighter? What kind of abilities and strength would a level three Brute Fighter have? Were there level four, five, or even six Brute Fighters?

Faced with these heavy questions, it no longer seemed strange that the Kingdom of Borea had lost to the Barbarians ninety years ago.

However, the individual quality of soldiers alone does not determine the outcome of a war. A Grand Legion, at least, places more importance on comprehensive strength.

Victor smiled slightly. “Why don’t we go to the villa’s living room and sit down? We still have many topics to discuss… I’m also interested in the Northern Barbarians of the Southern Continent.”

Chapter 582: Sky Spirit Donar

The lord’s residence at Flowing Leaf Manor appeared ordinary on the outside, but its interior was the pinnacle of luxury and extravagance. A curved, arched dome ceiling was crafted from hundred-year-old redwood from the Gloomy Forest, covered in gold foil, and inlaid with precious gems. A crystal candlestick chandelier hung from its center. Artists had cleverly used these expensive decorations, along with the play of light and shadow, to depict the Wimbledon family’s sigils: the silver moon, the thorns, and the nightingale.

When Patriarch Tamor first saw the magnificent dome of Flowing Leaf Manor’s great hall, he could not help but stop and admire it. After a moment, he nodded in praise. “Dazzling yet gentle, the ultimate in luxurious art. Truly befitting of a Wimbledon family holiday manor.”

A poised smile appeared on Sophia’s exquisitely beautiful face. “Your Excellency the Patriarch’s praise is Flowing Leaf Manor’s greatest honor.”

The Wimbledon family, originating from the Era of the Chosen, was ancient enough. Her Moon Elf bloodline had been passed down to the present day, and as long as nobles with the Moon Elf bloodline existed, the line of Wind Knights would never be broken. But the Wimbledon family’s legacy had been fractured multiple times. Each new incarnation merely borrowed the Wimbledon bloodline surname and had no actual connection to the previous Wimbledon family. The royal families of the various kingdoms protected the Wimbledon name, granting them a high social status. This both highlighted the nobility of the royal families and attracted scattered Wimbledon bloodlines and promising Wild Knights. At present, each kingdom had its own Wimbledon Marquess family, and all of them claimed to be the true line of succession.

This was the little Baron’s first time staying at Flowing Leaf Manor. standing for a long time in the resplendent great hall, his heart swelled with a vain sense of nobility, and he felt a deep reverence for the King to whom the Marchioness of Wimbledon had sworn fealty.

Victor would use the term “brand effect” to describe the position of the Gambis Marchioness of Wimbledon and Flowing Leaf Manor.

This Flowing Leaf Manor, designed to embody the ancient, noble, and orthodox line of the Gambis Wimbledons, was actually a masterpiece of the Auguste family, but its current owner was Marchioness Sophia Wimbledon.

A Wild Knight from a minor family had, in just twenty years, become a half-goldenized Raging Wave Knight and ascended to the throne of the Marchioness of Wimbledon. Sophia’s story was nothing short of legendary, making her a perfect fit for the title of mistress of Flowing Leaf Manor.

The Kingdom of Borea also had a place for a Wimbledon family, and their holiday manor was not necessarily inferior to Flowing Leaf Manor in Gambis. Patriarch Tamor’s praise of Flowing Leaf Manor in front of Andre Christopher was mainly because Victor was now the leading figure of the Wimbledon bloodline. Even if Flowing Leaf Manor were shabby and dilapidated, the residence of the Marchioness of Wimbledon in Gambis would still be the orthodox line.

Victor was dedicated to forging the House of Randell and the Centaur Hills political bloc into a cohesive group that moved as one, and he had no interest in the heterogeneous Wimbledon “brand.” Nevertheless, he was the undisputed master of the house at Flowing Leaf Manor.

“Your Excellency Tamor, Your Highnesses, please be seated.” Victor made a welcoming gesture with one hand, sitting beside Sophia on the main sofa in the living room.

Beautiful handmaidens, meticulously trained by the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence, presented various fruits, pastries, and purple-gold wine carafes. They filled each guest’s wineglass with a transparent liquid, and a strange, elegant yet mellow aroma filled the room. The Regent, who had been observing in silence, raised his glass in a toast, a hearty laugh in his voice. “Flowing Leaf Manor has two barrels of sixty-five-year-old Dumu wine in its collection, which I’ve been eyeing for years… Today, we are able to gather at Flowing Leaf Manor and taste the fine wine from the Marchioness’s cellars, thanks to Patriarch Tamor and His Highness Christopher.”

Everyone raised their glasses in return. Williams took a small sip of the Dumu wine, holding the golden goblet, his eyes shining as he asked, “I have heard of the Brute Fighter’s Bloodrage talent, and today I witnessed its damage reduction firsthand… I have a question I would like to ask His Highness Christopher.”

Andre nodded, placed his wineglass on the table, and gestured with an open palm, saying politely, “His Highness Auguste, please ask.”

“I detected the elemental disturbance from the Brute Fighter’s use of Bloodrage. The intensity of the earth and fire elements increased, while the water element’s intensity did not, but it was very active, integrating the changes in the earth and fire elements. It’s clear that Orcs are intelligent beings with an affinity for the earth and fire elements. For an Orc Brute Fighter to use their Bloodrage talent, it must come at the cost of their lifespan. Furthermore, since the water element’s intensity doesn’t increase in the Bloodrage state, an Orc Brute Fighter’s stamina should not improve. However, the facts astonished me; that Brute Fighter fought with increasing valor, as if tireless… I speculate that there is a mechanism to interrupt Bloodrage, or perhaps some kind of flaw?”

Andre did not hide his surprise. All High-ranked Knights could perceive changes in the void elements, but while this extraordinary ability was simple to describe, its specific application was fraught with difficulty. Williams’s ability to make such a detailed and accurate judgment of the elemental disturbance caused by Bloodrage showed that he was already beginning to conceive of his first Transcendent combat skill beyond the Gold rank. Any Earth Knight who made such preparations would go further than the average Gold Knight; it was not impossible for him to be promoted to Legendary.

High-ranked Knights with a Silver Bloodline could disturb the Elemental Sea with relative ease, but only the most top-tier Silver Bloodlines produced outstanding Gold Knights. Even if Williams were to assail the Elemental Sea now, his chances of success would be very high. However, assailing the Elemental Sea was a matter of life and death, so when Williams chose to do so was not for outsiders to advise on.

Andre suppressed his inner thoughts and nodded.

“An ordinary person’s lifespan generally does not exceed seventy-five years. Orcs rarely live past fifty-five, and ordinary Northern Barbarians rarely live past sixty. The lifespan of an ordinary Brute Fighter is even shorter. In fact, Bloodrage makes them agitated and aggressive, and very few Brute Fighters below level three ever die of old age… As for the weakness of Bloodrage, it’s like a Knight’s Aura, with an upper and lower limit for their Spirit. We call these limits the Bloodrage value. Every time a Brute Fighter is struck, or hesitates in fear, their Bloodrage value is weakened. If it falls below the lower limit, the Brute Fighter’s abilities vanish. That Mystic Warrior just now, by striking the Orc a few times in succession and making it timid and fearful, was able to easily break through its defenses. Of course, a Brute Fighter’s Bloodrage value also rises very quickly. As long as their spirits are high, their Bloodrage value will continuously increase, allowing them to fight with ever-increasing valor and break their upper limit. However, even if a level one Brute Fighter’s Bloodrage value breaks its limit, it won’t gain the abilities of a level two Brute Fighter, but an exceeded Bloodrage value will make them exceptionally resilient.”

Williams revealed a relaxed smile and said, “Given the Brute Fighters’ crude combat techniques, three cooperating Elite Soldiers could easily break its Bloodrage value and kill it.”

Andre shook his head with a smile. “In theory, you’re not wrong, but Brute Fighters also cooperate with their companions, and they are skilled at boosting each other’s morale. Moreover, their strength and Physique are far greater than those of Elite Soldiers, and they don’t have much of a disadvantage in numbers. Orc tribal warriors even dare to engage Centaurs in field battles. Both sides have their wins and losses, which is something few human armies can achieve.”

Victor nodded and interjected, “I’ve noticed that Orcs have a religious custom of worshipping the Earth Mother and facing death as if it were a homecoming. This is closely related to their Bloodrage talent… So, what is the difference between the Northern Barbarians and the Orcs?”

Andre’s gaze shifted to Victor. He pondered for a moment before speaking. “The differences between the Northern and Southern Barbarians are vast. Their physical characteristics, objects of worship, and the legacy of their Brute Fighter powers are all different… The Northern Barbarians are closer to humans in appearance, only taller and stronger. They have rugged faces, pointed ears, and brown skin. Their strength and Physique are lower than that of the Orcs, but still twice that of a strong adult male. When a level one Northern Barbarian Brute Fighter is struck, their strength and reaction speed increase dramatically, similar to an Ogre’s berserk state, but the duration is very short. We call the Barbarians’ Bloodrage ability a ‘berserk counter-attack.’ Compared to the Southern Barbarians, the Northern Barbarians are a bit smarter. They forge weapons, can make leather armor, have a legacy of combat techniques, and are more disciplined.”

“A legacy of combat techniques and discipline… that’s truly terrible news.” Victor shook his head, then asked, “Are the Northern Barbarians and the Orcs really the same race? They worship different pseudo-gods, so are they hostile to each other?”

Andre replied, “Although there are physical differences between the Northern Barbarians and the Orcs, they are indeed the same race. They can intermarry, and their offspring might be Northern Barbarians or Orcs. In fact, the physical differences between the females of the two Barbarian groups are not great. Other than the female Orcs having horns and either red or light-brown skin, they are much easier on the eyes than the Barbarian males…”

Crunch.

Roland bit into a green cherry-plum with a crisp sound, and then, under everyone’s gaze, he posed a sharp question.

“Can Barbarians and Orcs procreate with humans? Like the ancestor of the Neo Wester Knights?”

The ancestor of the Neo Wester Knights had children with a Barbarian royal princess, and occasionally, a Knight in a Savage state would appear among their descendants. As with the Wimbledons, the ancient legacy of House Neo Wester had long since been severed, but the bloodline of the Ferocious Knight was passed down. Those Knights who entered a Savage state inherited the ancient family’s surname and could all call themselves Neo Wester. The most famous Ferocious Knight, by virtue of his formidable personal might, founded the Eagle Kingdom. He painstakingly cultivated his family’s bloodline, and through marriage alliances with families with strong Bloodlines, he managed to elevate the Neo Wester bloodline to the Gold rank. In the end, the Eagle Kingdom became the mighty Randt Empire.

The Radiant Knights severed the Randt Empire’s Gold Bloodline, but they could not sever the latent Ferocious Knight bloodline. Although the current Emperor of Neo Wester is not of the Gold Bloodline, his manifested Ferocious Knight bloodline allows him to look down upon all his peers, and he is known as one of the three Legendary Knights of the human kingdoms, alongside Sylvia and Nachtigal.

All the great lords believed that the Kingdom of Borea would try to acquire the Barbarians’ Savage bloodline; it was just that no one had taken the initiative to ask.

As the Borrey United Kingdom wished to cooperate with Gambis, Roland felt no compunctions about raising this sensitive issue with Andre.

The Kingdom of Borea had clearly not obtained the Ferocious Knight bloodline, but it was unlikely they had achieved nothing. Now it was a matter of whether the Boreans were willing to show their sincerity.

Andre was prepared for this and spoke candidly, “During the Southern Expansion War ninety years ago, there were indeed some Borean soldiers who had children with female Barbarian slaves. Regardless of whether the mothers were Barbarians or Orcs, their children were all human. The descendants of these people still live in the Kingdom of Borea today, and they are just like ordinary people. The chance of turning savage is very low; not a single Ferocious warrior has appeared among them. As for the Ferocious Knight bloodline, we couldn’t hide it if we wanted to. The Kingdom of Borea has no Ferocious Knights. This may be because, over ten thousand years ago, all members of the Barbarian royal family died at the hands of Wizards… In any case, the fact that humans can have children with Barbarians and Orcs is enough to prove that the Northern and Southern Barbarians are the same intelligent species.”

Roland muttered, “Why not capture a Savage female Barbarian slave as a gift for Victor? He loves beautiful things and hates ugly monsters.”

Sylvia and Sophia covered their mouths to stifle their laughter. The others couldn’t help but smile, while only Victor was so exasperated he could have coughed up blood.

What kind of crazy logic was this? Did a Savage female Barbarian have to be beautiful? And even if she was, she was still one of the other races!

Roland’s comment was actually questioning the Boreans’ sincerity. With only an ordinary Orc Brute Fighter, Gambis obviously couldn’t uncover many of the Barbarians’ secrets. Since the Kingdom of Borea had sent only one Barbarian, there was a suspicion that Andre’s statement about the Savage bloodline was concealing something.

It was reasonable for the Kingdom of Borea to have its secrets, and it was equally blameless for Gambis to refuse to cooperate. This was the true meaning behind Roland’s jests, which were specifically for Patriarch Tamor to hear. The innocent His Highness Randell had become a shield for the princess’s negotiations.

Of course, everyone knew that Andre had no need to lie. Once Gambis began its own expansion south of the river and captured a few Barbarians, they would find out what they needed to know.

Ultimately, Gambis simply did not want the Kingdom of Borea to get involved in Lake Fies.

Andre didn’t need to explain; that would only make things seem more suspicious. He dodged the sensitive topic and said to Victor:

“Your Highness just asked me if there is conflict between the Barbarians and Orcs since they worship different beings. Unfortunately, the Barbarians worship the Sky God Donar. Both Orcs and Barbarians believe that the Sky God Donar and the Mother Earth came together to create the Barbarians. Donar is also called the Sky Father, or the Sky Spirit, by both the northern and southern Barbarians. The Barbarians worship the Sky Spirit and revere Mother Earth; the Orcs worship Mother Earth and fear the Sky Spirit. The Barbarians and Orcs have their disagreements, but there is no great schism between them. The King of Beastmen calls himself Chieftain, and he rules over the minority of Barbarians and the majority of Orcs in the Barbarian Kingdom. The Barbarian female Shamaness possesses the ability of divination and prophecy, and her status is second only to the Chieftain’s.”

“Her Royal Highness asked why we didn’t capture a Savage female Barbarian slave?” Andre gave a wry smile and shook his head. “Savage Barbarian women, whether they are Northern Barbarians or Orcs, are uncommonly powerful and hold high status. In fact, we took a great risk just to capture an ordinary Brute Fighter. Patriarch Tamor can attest to the truth of my words.”

Williams said in surprise, “Your Excellency Tamor, we did not expect that you personally went to the south bank of the Goldwater River and even captured an Orc to bring back.”

Tamor chuckled and waved his hand. “It was all thanks to Her Highness Saliste Relgarrel, who accompanied me. It was a close call, but we made it through safely.”

Saliste Relgarrel, a Gold Paladin of the Radiant Knights. House Relgarrel was interested in participating in the southern expansion and was very close to House Neo Wester. Saliste personally accompanying Tamor to scout the Southern Continent spoke volumes about their intentions.

Sylvia’s crimson lips parted slightly, and she asked with a graceful smile, “Saliste? Could it be that the main risk of landing on the South Shore was the Goldwater River itself, and that is why Your Excellency invited a Gold-rank female Paladin to accompany you?”

“That is indeed the case.” Tamor nodded, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “I have personally investigated the situation of the Barbarian Kingdom on the Southern Continent, and the problem is very tricky. I must first emphasize one point: the Barbarians are like beastmen and monsters. They cannot accept the holy light’s Redemption; they can only endure the punishment of divine arts. This is enough to prove that Barbarians and Orcs are evil intelligent species. They can be exterminated, they can be enslaved, but there can be no compromise, and certainly no communication as equals.”

“We are certain that the Sky Spirit Donar spoken of by the Barbarians and Orcs is an active evil god, not a dormant pseudo-god like Mother Earth.”

Chapter 583: Human Supreme

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Over ninety years ago, during the Kingdom of Borea’s expansion into the Southern Continent, the Church had defined the Barbarians as an evil, intelligent race. This meant that humans and Barbarians could not coexist peacefully, could not engage in equal exchange, and could not conduct diplomacy or trade.

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To antagonize an intelligent race capable of communication and intermarriage was a major strategic loss for humanity. The reason was simple: the offspring of humans and Barbarians were always human. By this logic, it should have been the Barbarians who defined humans as an evil race. The loosely organized Barbarians had clearly not realized the gravity of the situation, which conveniently provided humanity with an excellent opportunity to absorb them and strengthen their own numbers.

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Had the Kingdom of Borea adopted a policy of conciliation towards the Barbarians of the Southern Continent, they would have, with the resources and heritage of the human kingdoms, long since turned the tables and established themselves on the Southern Continent. However, when the Barbarians besieged Vanguard Fortress, the Church forced the Boreans to declare the Barbarians an evil race and swear to eliminate their threat, framing it as a protective duty of the Borean Knights. Only then did the Church organize an elite joint army of secular lords to rescue the Borean Legion trapped in Vanguard Fortress. Among them was the previous Duke of the Christopher family.

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At the time, the various kingdoms were not in a position to expand south, so they were happy to watch the Boreans make a fool of themselves and raised no objections to the Church’s definition. And so, the Borrey United Kingdom clashed with the Barbarian Kingdom for over eighty years with no progress in their southern expansion.

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Now, it was the Gambis Kingdom’s turn to prepare for its expansion south of the river. Patriarch Tamor not only personally landed on the south bank of Borea’s river cove to investigate the actual state of the Barbarian Kingdom, but also came here to emphasize the Barbarians’ evil nature to the Gambis Kingdom. Judging by the timeline, he had traveled from the southeastern Kingdom of Borea to the south bank of the Goldwater River, then rushed to the southwestern Gambis Kingdom to officiate the wedding of Edward and Anna. He had been on the move for at least twenty-four months for this matter. The four Guardians of Gambis, the Regent, and the Marchioness Wimbledon were forced to reconsider Patriarch Tamor’s true intentions.

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Perhaps, for the Church, preventing the Gambis Kingdom from engaging in diplomacy with the Barbarians was the top priority.

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The Gambis southern expansion strategy had originally listed the Barbarians of the Southern Continent as the primary hypothetical enemy. This seemed to align with Patriarch Tamor’s rhetoric, but his claim that the Sky Spirit worshiped by the Barbarians was an active evil god raised another problem.

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Before The Blood Sacrifice war of the Chosen, the Elves, humans, and Barbarians were allies. When the Radiant Church overthrew the rule of the Chosen Wizards, it vociferously condemned the Wizards’ crimes of exterminating the Northern Barbarians and forcing the Elves to flee. But now, the Church was defining the Barbarians and Orcs who had fled to the Southern Continent as evil races. In that case, how should the Elves, who also worshiped gods, be classified? Would the Church label His Highness Randall, who possessed the bloodline of the elven royal family, a Heretic?

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The superficially harmonious atmosphere turned icy in an instant, like an iceberg suddenly surfacing on calm waters. Sophia’s violet eyes practically turned green. She didn’t know what had happened, and as she circulated her Aura to think carefully, she heard the Regent’s grave voice.

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“Your Excellency, do you have concrete evidence that the Sky Spirit worshiped by the Barbarians is an active evil god?”

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“I do not.” Patriarch Tamor slowly shook his head.

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Williams let out a cold laugh and mocked him without courtesy, “Ha! No evidence? On what grounds do you assert that the Sky Spirit is an evil god, Your Excellency Patriarch? I think it’s just some silent ancient god imagined by the Barbarians.”

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“Tamor, is this your personal opinion, or a consensus of the Curia?” Sylvia’s voice was pleasant, but her gaze was profound. She had reason to suspect that Tamor wanted to drag Victor into the Curia’s internal disputes. Clement had once proposed to the Curia that Victor be invested as a Saint of the Church, only to be opposed by Flidis and Tamor.

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A platinum light shone in Patriarch Tamor’s eyes as he mobilized his holy power to resist the Spirit Knight’s mental pressure. He cleared his throat and said:

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“During the crusade against the evil Wizards, His Majesty, the first Pope Inoc, once rescued Elves who had been imprisoned and tortured by the Wizards. His Majesty Inoc’s Holy Light healed the Elves’ wounds, and he dispatched Sacred Warriors to escort them to the edge of the Endless Forest so they could find their own people. His Majesty Inoc declared the Elves to be friends of humanity, stating that the clergy should aid friends in distress and eliminate enemies. This event is clearly recorded in the Church’s historical scriptures.”

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“Oh, if I ever have the chance, I would love to read the historical scriptures in the Church’s collection,” Victor said, easing the heavy atmosphere. He squeezed Sophia’s slender hand, signaling her to listen quietly and not let her imagination run wild.

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The historical scriptures collected by the Church were as vast as the sea and not open to secular lords. Besides High-ranked Priests and the leaders of The Seven Great Paladin Families, only Saints had the right to read them.

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Tamor smiled with a hint of embarrassment, the platinum glow in his eyes quickly fading. He continued, “In the Era of the Chosen, the intelligent races imprisoned by the Wizards weren’t just Elves; they also included captured beastmen and Barbarians. They were all executed by the Sacred Warriors… because the Holy Light could not heal their wounds.”

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“His Majesty Inoc said, ‘The Holy Light can redeem souls of light; all those who cannot be redeemed by the Holy Light but can be punished by divine arts are the children of evil. The Holy Light is the will of the Supreme Lord; the Holy Light judges between light and evil.’”

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From Victor’s perspective, this statement from the first Pope conveyed a threefold message. He could understand two of them but couldn’t figure out the last one.

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First, from a theological perspective, Inoc’s words were very easy to understand. The Lord of Radiance was humanity’s Lord of Redemption, and He endowed the clergy with three powers: healing, strengthening, and punishment. Only humans could accept the strengthening of the Holy Light. As for other intelligent races, those who could be healed by the Holy Light were redeemable. Those who could not be healed but could be punished were enemies. Since the clergy could not heal Barbarians but could punish them, this must be the will of the Lord of Radiance.

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Second, from a practical perspective, humans were not the only intelligent race in the world. Before the Blood Sacrifice War, humans, Elves, and the Northern Barbarians coexisted as allies, and the Chosen had a relatively tolerant attitude toward the beastmen on the fringes of the Northern Wildlands, not launching large-scale purges against them. After the Blood Sacrifice War ended, Inoc discovered that the Wizards had nearly wiped out all the intelligent races of the northern continent in a bloody slaughter. For those races, this blood feud would be blamed on the human survivors.

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Humanity was completely isolated, their external situation extremely perilous. Fortunately, the intelligent races of the northern continent were all struggling to survive and were temporarily unable to seek revenge. However, the Elves had managed to escape from the maddened Chosen with their people intact, so their strength could not be underestimated. At the very least, the severely weakened human survivors were in no position to resist elven retaliation. It was necessary for the first Pope to express goodwill toward the Elves and other races, and most importantly, to display strength. Doing his utmost to rescue the intelligent races imprisoned and persecuted by the Wizards with divine arts was undoubtedly the best way.

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All the evil and disasters were caused by the Wizards and the Devils that beguiled them. Now, we have overthrown the Wizards’ tyranny, and the evildoers have paid the price in blood. We follow God’s will to save you. Look, behind us stands a True God who has suppressed the rampaging Devils. Our Lord says you, like us, have souls of light, and He wants us to get along… What? You ask why I killed that Ogre? Our Lord says Ogres are children of evil and cannot get along with us. You see, our Lord has bestowed upon us the divine power to Purify it.

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In short, it was about fully demonstrating the power and will of the god. Those intelligent races that could not be healed by divine arts were simply killed with divine arts.

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What Victor found perplexing was: what were the rules for the Lord of Radiance’s holy power to heal intelligent life? The issue of whom punishing divine arts could target didn’t need consideration, as they could harm the vast majority of living beings. The question was, why could divine arts heal the wounds of Elves but not Barbarians?

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Of course, Victor couldn’t ask Tamor his question directly. Church tenets clearly stated: mortals should not presume to speak of gods. It didn’t matter how High-ranked Knights privately discussed the mysteries of the Lord of Radiance, but to do so in front of a priest was crossing a line.

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Victor took a roundabout approach. “Your Excellency Patriarch, which intelligent races are the children of evil? And which possess souls of light?”

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Tamor answered with a smile, “Currently, all known beastmen, monsters, Ant-men, the Goat-people of Mount Arreat, Orcs, and Barbarians are children of evil. The Elves, Forest Centaurs, barbarians, dwarves, Halflings, and the Assyrians that the ancestors of the Trigoval family encountered in the Endless Forest all possess souls of light and are peoples we can interact with.”

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Victor couldn’t help but press further, “Is the Church certain that the Holy Light cannot heal the Ant-men?”

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“This has been confirmed,” Tamor said with a nod.

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Victor pondered for a moment, then asked, “The Gloomy Forest of Gambis has a unique half-ape, half-goat monster. Is the Church aware of it?”

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Tamor was a little surprised that His Highness Randall would mention a monster from the Gloomy Forest. After a moment of thought, he said, “Of course. There is a high-quality white crystal lode in the Gloomy Forest; in fact, it was information His Highness Randall provided to the Church during his travels there. While we were mining for White crystals, we also encountered some peculiar creatures with golden horns on their heads. They can be healed by the Holy Light, but they are not an intelligent species and don’t possess what one would call a soul. They are simply beasts unique to the Gloomy Forest.”

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This makes no sense… The goat-headed, ape-bodied monsters of the Gloomy Forest are descendants of the alchemical creature, the Savi Warrior. The Ant-men are also descendants of alchemical creatures. The Lord of Radiance is a product of the Alchemical Empire, so why can its holy power heal the Savi goat-monsters but not the Ant-men? And, Elves, Barbarians, and humans share a common origin, so why does the Lord of Radiance’s holy power have such drastically different effects on Elves and Barbarians?

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His Highness Randall was renowned for his wisdom; his questions surely had a deeper meaning. Everyone listened quietly, their attention focused on him. Victor filed away the questions in his mind, and regardless of whether they were suspicious, a relaxed smile appeared on his handsome face. He used a playful tone to mask the intent of his previous questions.

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“That’s good. If the goat-headed monsters of the Gloomy Forest were children of evil, it would be quite difficult for us to eliminate them.”

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Tamor’s expression froze, and he explained with a strained smile, “Well… the Barbarians are children of evil, but it’s not necessary to exterminate them. That would be unrealistic… But they worship an evil god, which is something we cannot turn a blind eye to.”

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Sophia could no longer contain herself. Asserting her presence as the lady of Flowing Leaf Manor, she asked with a curious expression, “My lord Tamor, how can you be certain that the Sky Spirit worshiped by the Barbarians is an active evil god? Does it reveal itself to its Barbarian followers?”

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“Countess, thus far, we have found no signs of the evil god Donar manifesting to its Barbarian followers.” Tamor nodded, his amiable smile vanishing and his expression turning grave. “Barbarians can intermarry with humans, so why has the Supreme Lord’s Holy Light abandoned them? It must be because the Donar they worship is a Devil banished by our Lord! Esteemed guests, we have never forgotten the terrible disaster the Devils brought upon humanity. Our Lord exiled the Devils that beguiled the Wizards to the depths of Hell, yet their voices still whisper in the Wizards’ ears, craving our souls and flesh. On the matter of Devils, we absolutely cannot take any risks.”

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The Patriarch’s words were now perfectly clear, and Victor gained a deeper understanding of the Supreme Lord.

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The Church never claimed the Lord of Radiance was the only god, because that wouldn’t explain why the Lord of Radiance didn’t stop the Devils from harvesting the souls and flesh of other intelligent races during the Blood Sacrifice War. The Moon Goddess worshiped by the Elves did not manifest; the Mother Earth worshiped by the Centaurs did not manifest; the Titans worshiped by the Ogres did not manifest; the Sky God worshiped by the Northern Barbarians likewise did not manifest. Only the Lord of Radiance manifested and redeemed humanity.

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The clergy referred to gods who could not manifest as “Ancient Gods” out of respect for divine authority, called active demons “evil gods,” and called the Lord of Radiance a “True God.”

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The Lord of Radiance was the only True God to have manifested, yet in several thousand years, He had never delivered an oracle to humanity. The first article of the Radiant Code precluded this possibility.

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Therefore, It was not the Supreme, but the Human Supreme.

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The first Pope Inoc had clearly seen through the essence of the Lord of Radiance. But the unmanifested Ancient Gods still had worshipers!

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If the Elves were to re-establish relations with humans, even if they still revered the Sun God and Moon Goddess, it was possible that in the face of the healing power of the Holy Light, they might secretly come to believe in the Lord of Radiance. Although the Elves’ power of faith was useless to the humans’ Supreme Lord, at least their native faith would not cause trouble for the Church.

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But the Barbarians were not redeemed by the Holy Light. Whether the Sky God Donar was truly an evil god was no longer important. If Barbarians interacted with humans and intermarried, they would not change their faith in their Sky God, nor would they hold any special reverence for the Lord of Radiance. The problem was that the offspring of Barbarians and humans were always human. Since a priest’s divine arts could not possibly attend to every single mortal, the influence of Barbarian parents on their human children would obviously be greater than that of a priest. In the long run, faith in the Sky God Donar and Mother Earth would spread throughout the human world, shaking the very foundation of faith in the Human Supreme.

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On this point, the Church had no room for compromise.

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The Barbarians must be the children of evil!

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Chapter 584: The Test

Williams’s gaze swept over the four Guardians. Roland, looking bored, twirled a lock of her platinum-blonde hair with a long index finger; Sylvia’s eyes were downcast, a smile playing on her lips as if she were recalling some pleasant memory; Victor stared at his wine glass, where the gentle breeze stirred ripples across the surface of the liquid; Marquess Golan wore a profound expression and nodded slightly.

“Thank you, Your Excellency Tamor, for explaining the doctrine to us,” the Regent said sincerely. “We of Gambis will surely follow the guidance of the Supreme Lord… the Barbarians are Children of Evil. They can be enslaved or eliminated, but never engaged with as equals.” He could not yet be certain what impact this principle of the Church would have on the southern expansion strategy and diplomacy of Gambis, but he knew that Andre and Tamor surely had more to say.

As expected, Patriarch Tamor revealed a gratified and amiable smile, shook his head, and spoke with a sigh:

“The Northern Barbarians once occupied the vast lands south of the Giantstone Mountains. Gambis, Dodor, Naville, Sus, the southern parts of the Twilight Forest, the Eastern Alliance… Apart from Eyer Holy City, which was a Wizard City-state, this entire barren south was their territory. It’s possible that Barbarians once roamed the very ground we stand on… Over nine thousand years ago, Wizards from the Pantheon secretly captured Barbarians to sacrifice to Devils, and the conflict between the Barbarians and the Pantheon Wizards intensified. The Wizards of Eyer, who belonged to the Council’s faction, failed in their attempts to mediate. The Archwizards of the Pantheon suddenly blockaded the city-state of Eyer, and the Pantheon’s allied forces crossed the Giantstone Mountains, invading the homelands of the Northern Barbarians. An all-out war erupted between the two sides. The Council Wizards of Eyer, isolated and helpless, could only watch as the Pantheon’s forces crushed the main Barbarian army, sacked the Barbarian Royal Court, and performed Blood Sacrifices on their captives. By the time the Council’s Archwizards arrived at Eyer from the distant north, the Pantheon Wizards had already sacrificed hundreds of thousands of Barbarians. The Council’s Archwizards could only exercise restraint and tread carefully around the Pantheon’s Archwizards. The Wizards and Gold Knights of Eyer secretly helped the surviving Barbarians cross the river from the shores of Lake Fies and flee. The Council had more Archwizards, but they hadn’t brought an army. The Pantheon had fewer Archwizards, but their allied forces were more than capable of storming Eyer. The two sides reached an agreement, giving the Barbarian survivors ten days to escape.”

“Ten days. The hundreds of thousands of old, weak, and young among the Barbarians didn’t even have time to build ships. They felled trees to make simple rafts, and some just grabbed logs and jumped into the water. Countless Barbarians drowned in Lake Fies, becoming a feast for Fishmen and aquatic monsters. The Barbarians’ blood stained the narrow river mouth on the South Shore of Lake Fies and nearly half the lake’s surface, which is how the Blood River got its name. His Majesty Inoc’s maternal grandfather, as a soldier of Eyer, was on the North Shore of Lake Fies at the time and witnessed that tragic scene with his own eyes… The Great Fies Lake Escape not only triggered the Blood Sacrifice War but also had a profound impact on His Majesty Inoc… We now know that the effects of the Great Fies Lake Escape have lasted to this day.”

“…Wait a minute.” Roland, who had been listening to the story with great interest, had unconsciously propped her delicate combat boots on the coffee table. With her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands, her eyes sparkled as she asked, “Were all the members of the Barbarian royal family killed? Were the ancestors of House Neo Wester and House Nachtigal both Gold Knights of Eyer? Did they plan the Great Fies Lake Escape together?”

“Well… the Church’s historical archives have no detailed records of whether any members of the Northern Barbarian royal family survived and successfully escaped to the Southern Continent.” Patriarch Tamor paused for a moment before continuing, “However, Nachtigal and Neo Wester were indeed Gold Knight families of Eyer. After the Barbarians were massacred by the Pantheon, House Neo Wester left Eyer and vanished without a trace. Otherwise, Neo Wester might have, like Nachtigal, followed His Majesty Inoc and become one of the Church’s Paladin families.”

Williams August took a sip of Dumu wine and offered a bit of his own embellished speculation, “The ancient city-state of Eyer and the Northern Barbarians were likely allies. Considering that Wizard Towers do not meddle in worldly affairs, the Gold Knight families of Eyer jointly governed the city-state. For diplomatic reasons, House Neo Wester formed a marriage alliance with the Barbarian royal family. It was precisely because of this close relationship that they helped the Barbarian survivors escape to the Southern Continent, earning the resentment of the Pantheon Wizards. Under pressure from the Pantheon’s allied forces, the Council Wizards exiled House Neo Wester.”

Roland shook her head repeatedly, her eyes filled with a dreamy light.

“House Neo Wester must have left in a rage… When the enemy invaded in force, the elder princess of the Barbarian royal family went to Eyer to seek help from the Council Wizards. But the Wizard Towers of Eyer were unable to provide aid to their Barbarian allies. Her diplomatic efforts failed, so House Neo Wester offered her refuge in the city. However, at that moment of crisis, the brave princess wanted only to be with her people, to fight the evil Wizard army to the death, rather than hide and weep behind Eyer’s walls. She resolutely refused the Neo Wester family’s plea to stay and left Eyer alone… News of the princess’s death on the battlefield reached Eyer. When House Neo Wester saw her abandoned weapon and the bloodstains upon it, they were filled with remorse and regret. They cleverly laid a trap, secretly orchestrating the Great Fies Lake Escape while dragging the selfish Council Archwizards into the mire, pitting them against the Pantheon Archwizards. This sparked the Blood Sacrifice War between the Pantheon and the Council, indirectly avenging the princess’s blood feud.”

After Roland finished her breathless tale, Sylvia shot her a sideways glance and said languidly, “What does it matter whether House Neo Wester was exiled or left in a rage? The ancient Neo Westers and the current Neo Westers are not the same family… Why are you so excited? Also, why the elder princess? Why not the Barbarian Queen?”

“That’s not the point… My version fits the aesthetic of a good story. Hey, why a Queen? Why can’t it be the elder princess?”

“Because I like it,” Sylvia said, raising a slender golden eyebrow as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Haha, so you like my story. But I’ve still decided to write a stage play about the Barbarian elder princess,” Roland said, pumping a small fist happily.

“I think changing the Barbarian princess to a Barbarian prince would be closer to historical fact,” Williams said in a deep voice.

“Don’t even think about it!” Roland rolled her eyes, looking around for a supporter. Finally, she turned to the Marchioness Wimbledon, “Sophia, what do you think?”

Sophia hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Barbarians are reckless by Nature. The Barbarian royal family was probably wiped out. The city-state Wizards and ancient Knights were aloof and wouldn’t have cared about the fate of the Barbarian survivors. I believe it was an intelligent and brave common Barbarian who exploited the conflict between the Pantheon and the Council to orchestrate the Great Fies Lake Escape.” As she spoke, she looped her arm through Victor’s, seeking her husband’s support. She asked softly, “What do you think, my dear?”

“All of those story elements can be included.” Victor shrugged indifferently and analyzed calmly, “In any case, when the Council Archwizards saw the Pantheon Wizards cultivating more of their own kind by performing Blood Sacrifices on the Barbarians, they would have acted. For the sake of strategic balance, they would rather have seen the Barbarian survivors drown in Lake Fies than let them fall into the Pantheon’s hands. The Great Fies Lake Escape was surely an inevitable outcome secretly guided by the Council Archwizards.”

Seeing the meeting at Flowing Leaf Manor being led astray by the two Augusts, the oldest Guardian of Gambis spoke up to correct them. “Interrupting our guest is rude and discourteous behavior… Your Excellency Tamor, on behalf of Roland and Williams, I apologize. Please, continue.”

Patriarch Tamor, as if waking from a dream, set down his wine glass, nodded, and said, “I believe that in the Barbarian survivors’ most desperate and helpless moment, an evil god took the opportunity to replace Donar, the Ancient God they worshiped. This entity carried out an unspeakable, evil plan, bewitching the Eyer Wizards into helping the Barbarians with the Great Fies Lake Escape… Because during that period, the great Lord of Radiance had not yet awakened, so evil gods and Devils were capable of influencing the minds of Wizards.”

Marquess Golan: “…”

Andre: “…”

“…Ahem.” The Patriarch cleared his throat and said with a serious expression, “Regardless, the surviving Northern Barbarians who fled south brought their hatred for humans to the Southern Continent, a hatred that persists to this day. During my reconnaissance mission to the Barbarian Kingdom across the Great Borean Bend, I gained a profound understanding of the Barbarians’ bone-deep hatred for humankind. His Highness Andre has brought a collection of documents compiled by the Borrey United Kingdom, all containing intelligence on the Barbarian Kingdom. If you look at them, you will understand my feelings about the Barbarians.”

Andre nodded and said, “Yes, the documents are in the carriage. On behalf of the Five Great Families of the Kingdom of Borea, I present the Brute Fighter captive, along with the detailed intelligence on the Barbarian Kingdom, to His Highness Randell as a congratulatory gift. I will leave Klock behind; he can teach the scholars of Gambis the Barbarian language… I sincerely hope our gift will be of some help to the Kingdom of Gambis’s great southern expansion.”

Sylvia rose gracefully, lightly holding up the hem of her skirt in an elegant curtsy. “Gambis sincerely thanks the Kingdom of Borea for this gift. It is of great importance to us.”

Everyone rose to their feet. Andre returned the courtesy and said, “The honor is ours.”

“Is His Highness Christopher preparing to return to his country?” Victor asked.

Andre nodded in response. “Yes, we plan to depart early tomorrow morning.”

Victor smiled and said, “I have a small request. I hope His Highness Christopher will permit a few of my men to accompany the Borean Knights, land on the south bank of the Great Borean Bend, and conduct a field investigation of the Barbarian Kingdom’s situation. I guarantee they will follow the Borean Knights’ orders completely and will not cause any trouble for your knight squad.”

Andre looked somewhat surprised and said with difficulty, “Your Highness Randell, I would be happy to oblige, but I cannot guarantee their safe return to the human kingdoms.”

Patriarch Tamor explained from the side, “Your Highness Randell, the Borean knight squad’s infiltration landings are extremely perilous. Besides dealing with Barbarian patrols and guards, a safe retreat is also a major problem… During the Kingdom of Borea’s southern expansion, they built sturdy stone docks and anti-fishman walls on the south bank of the Great River Bend, and those facilities are still usable today. To prevent the Barbarians from using the docks to build warships and attack the Seven Great Islands, the Borean fleet frequently bombards the Barbarians and Orcs on the docks with catapults and ballistae. The Barbarian Kingdom also fears that the Borean fleet might use those docks to land on the South Shore, so they have heavily garrisoned the area behind them. The knight squads responsible for infiltration, reconnaissance, and sabotage cannot land at the old docks. Other suitable landing spots, the shallows, are teeming with Fishmen who will capsize any lone landing craft. The knight squads can only choose moonless nights, travel by warship along the coast in search of cliffs, then quietly approach the shore in small boats and climb the cliffs barehanded to carry out their missions. In the last thirty years, the Barbarian Kingdom has strengthened its patrols along the cliffs. If they spot a warship, they will use catapults to destroy the landing craft, and the giant beasts in the deep water below the cliffs will also attack the small boats. If a boat is destroyed, the knight squad will be trapped on the South Shore for some time, and they might be captured or annihilated by the Barbarians. This is why I asked Her Highness Saliste to accompany me; only a Semi-elementalized Raging Wave Knight could swim me back, while the Semi-elementalization of an Earth Knight would only sink to the bottom. Many brave Borean Knights have disappeared on the South Shore, including Duke Peter’s elder brother, Tarno Peter.”

Victor’s eyes glinted, an elegant smile gracing his lips. “No matter. The Southern Expansion War will always have its sacrifices. If Lord Tamor himself braves the landing, how can the warriors of the Kingdom of Gambis shrink back from danger? Your Highness Christopher, please have no concerns about their status or mission. Just treat them as Elite Soldiers of the Kingdom of Borea.”

Andre nodded. “Very well. I will not have any concerns. Let the Supreme Lord decide the fate of these Warriors.”

The next day, Andre led his retinue back to the Kingdom of Borea, accompanied by three of the Randall family’s Elite Guards. They were all six-year-old Lithe Ape militiamen whose emotional intelligence had reached that of a normal human. They bore the mission of reporting back to the Alchemy Tower; everything they saw would be presented to Victor through the Tower Spirit. As for Patriarch Tamor, he would remain at Brinol Cathedral for another month to handle personnel transfers within the Gambis large diocese. Today, he would attend the Evening Banquet hosted by the Gold-Eyed Earl and the Countess at the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence.

After arranging the details of the banquet, Sophia entered her study and saw Victor hunched over his desk, writing something.

“My dear, is this all the intelligence on the Barbarian Kingdom provided by the Kingdom of Borea?” She walked over, picked up a parchment scroll covered in writing, and asked in surprise.

“I have a photographic memory,” Victor said, pausing his goose quill and looking smug. “Sylvia and I have both read through those documents. They’re in the Regent’s hands now. I’m transcribing the contents for you to see, and to enrich the resources and heritage of the House of Randell at the same time.”

Sophia bit her red lip and said with some dejection, “I might really be unsuited for politics…”

“Why would you say that?” Victor raised an eyebrow and praised with a smile, “My Countess is both beautiful and intelligent.”

“Thank you for the compliment.” Sophia gave a beautiful smile, but then her purple, willow-like brows furrowed as she shook her head. “I always felt there was more to Andre than meets the eye, but I can’t figure out the purpose of his visit.”

“Is there such a thing as a simple Gold Knight?” Victor nodded and said, “Back when Andre accepted Marquess Golan’s invitation to visit Gambis and propose to Princess Roland, he was probably planning to land on the South Shore from Lake Fies, in his capacity as a Prince of Gambis. In other words, the Boreans have never given up on their southern expansion strategy, and the port at Lake Fies has always been their goal.”

Sophia said, confused, “That’s right. The Orcs and the Barbarian Kingdom block the Boreans’ path south, so landing from Lake Fies is their best option. I thought Andre and Patriarch Tamor would propose an alliance with Gambis for a southern expansion at Flowing Leaf Manor. But in the end, they gave you an Orc captive, a complete set of intelligence, and a scholar for translation, yet they made no requests… They came so well-prepared, only to give up halfway? I was there for the entire meeting, yet I have no idea what actually happened at Flowing Leaf Manor.”

Victor pondered for a moment before speaking. “The Kingdom of Borea and Patriarch Tamor have already stated their conditions.”

Sophia’s amethyst-clear eyes stared at Victor. She said with a charming pout, “Don’t keep me in suspense!”

“Having an appetite is a good thing… but to satisfy it, you have to use your brain.”

Victor stood up from his seat, gently caressed Sophia’s porcelain-smooth cheek, and teased:

“I’ll give you a few hints. The Church forbids us from any communication with the Southern Continent’s Barbarians; the Barbarian Kingdom at the Great Borean Bend is extremely hostile to humans; the Boreans are able to capture Barbarians, and the Barbarians also capture Borean Knights, and both sides have mastered the other’s language… Why did the Church label the Barbarians as Children of Evil? Why is the Barbarian Kingdom hostile to humans? What effect will the interactions between the Kingdom of Borea and the Barbarian Kingdom have on our southern expansion strategy? Think about these questions more deeply, and the answer will reveal itself… Mmm, consider it homework from me. Tomorrow, Sylvia and I are going to Lake Basse, upstream of the Blinor River, to watch the navy that Auguste is training. When I return, you can tell me your answer. If I’m satisfied, I’ll take you on as my student… The opportunity to have the great scholar Randall as a Tutor is very precious.”

Sophia huffed and glanced sideways at Victor. “Fine! If I pass your test, you’ll be responsible for carving my name on the walls of the Silver Spire.”

“As the wife of a great scholar, your name can be carved next to mine, noted as ‘Countess Sophia von Randell’… But to have the name ‘Sophia Wimbledon, Scholar’ carved on its own, you’ll have to work harder,” Victor said with a grin.

“Pfft… never mind then.” Sophia shook her head with a laugh. She had a competitive nature, but she truly couldn’t muster any interest in academics.

“My dear, you handed three of your Personal Guards over to Andre. Aren’t you worried the Boreans might sacrifice them intentionally?” she asked, changing the subject.

“There’s no point worrying now. A Guardian’s word is their bond; I couldn’t possibly take back my words in front of Andre and Tamor.” Victor shook his head and sighed. “In the eyes of a statesman, there are only families, factions, and kingdoms; there are no individuals. If you view these things as a single, complete life form, you’ll find it has absolutely no need for personal emotions. It’s a cold monster that transcends the limits of individual life, an almost omnipotent deity… Politics is a cold business. As the head of a family, you must learn to be cold.”

Sophia blinked her beautiful eyes, gazing at Victor’s handsome, elegant face. She said softly, “My intuition tells me that you’re not actually cold. If that’s the case, you’re not a qualified statesman either.”

Victor was silent for a moment, then broke into a smile. “Well, it’s a good thing we play different roles, and statesman is only one of them.”

Chapter 585: Changes

Since the Bronze Age, Gold Knights have had a tradition of congratulating a new Highness. The gifts they present are mostly Mithril armor, Mithril weapons, as well as pure element crystals and some rare extraordinary materials. These gifts are enough to grant a destitute new Highness the dignity befitting a Gold Knight. Most importantly, by presenting these gifts, the Gold Knights collectively arm a new Highness.

As long as it has life, it will eventually perish. Although Gold Knights are powerful, they are not invincible. In an era where Bronze Knights were the mainstream, the bloodline of a Gold Knight was far more precious than their power. However, when the human kingdoms faced foreign enemies, the Gold Knights still had to go to the battlefield in person, fulfilling their protective duties as lords, using the blood of powerful enemies to bolster the army’s morale and maintain the ruling position of the Knight class.

Fine weapons and armor can protect a newly advanced Highness on a perilous battlefield, and they also signify the agreement among Gold Knights not to kill one another. Take Sylvia, for example. The dozens of long and short Mithril weapons and three sets of Mithril armor in her collection were all gifts from Gold Knights, engraved with the names and well wishes of their givers.

His Highness Randell is not a High-ranked Knight, so precious Mithril and element crystals are of little use to him. The Gold Knights of the various kingdoms and the Church had to put a great deal of thought into what gifts to send him. Victor received dozens of exquisitely crafted warbows and Adamantine longswords, two hides from a Gold Centaur, some antiques, art pieces, jewelry, many unengraved Adamantine ornaments, as well as 120 opportunities to reforge one’s body and a large quantity of precious medicinal herbs.

The unengraved Adamantine ornaments could be melted down to forge Adamantine arrowheads or a batch of Adamantine equipment. The 120 opportunities to reforge one’s body, coupled with the precious medicinal herbs, were perfect for cultivating a group of Mystic Warriors or for fostering secret knights.

Although Victor had once suppressed the Gnoll Windfang in close combat, the Gold Knights generally did not wish for a Wind Whisper Archer to engage in melee with foreign enemies, especially since His Highness Randell’s Gold Bloodline had not yet spread. Loyal and formidable personal guards seemed to be the blades and shields that Victor lacked.

Of course, compared to the status of a Sword Saint like Draven, these gifts were still insufficient to reflect the Gold Knights’ recognition of and friendliness toward the Gold-Eyed Earl. Simply making up the price difference between Mithril and Adamantine equipment with gold coins would have made the Gold Knights seem tasteless. Thus, the powerful lords of the various kingdoms also sent many White crystals to Victor; on average, each family gifted twenty White crystals, for a total of more than eight hundred.

White crystals could be used to purchase healing divine arts below level three from the Church, making them a form of hard currency. Eight hundred White crystals were worth two hundred and forty thousand Gold Sols.

For a Highness, neither giving nor receiving gifts were both very strong signals of hostility. Since Victor accepted the gifts, he naturally had to host a banquet to entertain the envoys of the great families. This was both a courtesy and a promise, representing that His Highness Randell would not take the initiative to harm the High-ranked Knights of the various families.

His Highness Randell’s thank-you banquet was held as scheduled at the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence. The scale of the banquet was not large; the powerful lords of the various kingdoms only sent one or two envoys each, so there were no more than one hundred guests. The standard of the banquet, however, was extremely high. Patriarch Tamor and all four of Gambis’s Highnesses attended. The new Queen, Angelina, attended with her husband, the King, in her capacity as the Marchioness Wimbledon’s student. Among the distinguished guests, Silver Knights made up half the number, while the rest were all young senior knights from the great families.

This was a banquet for the extraordinary; nobles with low bloodlines could only look on from their homes with envy. After the banquet began, Victor, following the ranking of the Extraordinary Knights, danced the opening dance with Sylvia, followed by His Highness Roland Auguste, then the Marchioness Wimbledon, and after her, Trisley the Raging Wave Knight, the female earl Dori Dekeizer, and so on.

Tonight, Victor invited every female knight to dance and warmly exchanged pleasantries with every distinguished guest. However, the guests also noticed the banquet’s second protagonist—Sophia Wimbledon, the Marchioness.

With her purple hair swept up high, she was stunningly beautiful and full of charm. She led Angelina in conversation with the guests, laughing and chatting, whispered with Sylvia, and spoke cordially with Regent Williams. She even accepted Viscount Soren Wimbledon’s invitation for a dance. The lively Marchioness Wimbledon was undoubtedly the most eye-catching sight of the entire ball.

The High-ranked Knights could feel that the three Gold Knights—Sylvia, Roland, and Marquess Golan—were elevating Sophia’s presence. They couldn’t help but recall that Sylvia had accepted gifts on His Highness Randell’s behalf, while His Highness Randell had let Sophia host the guests for him. The Gambis Royal Family and the Queen’s family were unquestionably sending a clear and public signal—the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence will return to Aerie Fortress.

Sophia had once brought shame and disgrace to the Auguste family, and she had rejected Sylvia’s recruitment. If she could not advance to Gold Knight, she seemed destined to be marginalized within the noble circles of Gambis.

However, there was no precedent for a silver female knight of the purple-eyed bloodline successfully advancing to Gold Knight. It was far from easy for Sophia to attempt to reach the pinnacle of power. Moreover, a Gold Knight first had to establish a protective conviction, and being a neutral commercial nobility was a dead end. In the eyes of the High-ranked Knights, Sophia’s promise to relinquish control of the Wimbledon Merchant Association after fifteen years clearly meant she could no longer take pioneering a commercial family as her conviction. Bringing the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence into the Gambis Kingdom’s central authority was her only choice.

On the other hand, Sophia was a half-goldenized Raging Wave Knight and a noblewoman of the purple-eyed bloodline. She could bear an offspring of noble bloodline with His Highness Randell. A Wimbledon prince with a Gold Bloodline would be extremely important to the Auguste family, and indeed to all of Gambis.

It was no surprise, then, that Marchioness Sophia Wimbledon and Viscount Soren Wimbledon, once mortal enemies, were now conversing so cheerfully.

The Gambis Kingdom possessed the potential to become a great southern empire. In the future Gambis Empire, the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence would hold an illustrious position, no longer just an empty noble title. Realizing this, the envoys of the various kingdoms fully yet subtly expressed their inner enthusiasm toward the Marchioness.

Sophia’s grace even outshone her husband, the banquet’s host—the Gold-Eyed Earl Victor Wimbledon Randell.

The Gold-Eyed Earl’s thank-you banquet lasted late into the night before the guests finally departed the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence under the hazy moonlight. The next day, the envoys from the various kingdoms took their leave of the King of Gambis and, carrying the news they had gathered, embarked on their journeys home. The lords of Gambis, however, were to remain in Blinor City for a while longer to participate in the royal hunting celebration hosted for the first time by the new Queen.

The young Queen Anna came from a prestigious family, but she still seemed inexperienced in personally organizing the Gambis Kingdom’s hunting activities. Suspiciously, King Edward’s mother, Duchess Osvid, used the excuse of being with child and needing rest to politely decline Anna’s request for assistance, instead recommending the Marchioness Wimbledon to help the new Queen.

Sophia had zero experience organizing royal hunting activities and could not refuse her student’s plea for help, so she had no choice but to bite the bullet and take charge of the arrangements.

The lords of Gambis seemed to catch a whiff of something unusual in the air.

Just as Sophia was at her wit’s end and everyone was waiting for a spectacle, the carriages of the four Guardians left the Royal Capital and headed north toward the largest inland lake in the Gambis Kingdom—Lake Basse.

Twenty-four days later, at Karil Harbor on the shores of Lake Basse.

This newly built harbor was originally a fishing village, belonging to the fief lord of Monsent County. Ever since the Gambis Kingdom resolved on its expansion south of the river, the local fief lord, on the Regent’s orders, had relocated the fishermen of Karil Village. The Royal Capital’s Imperial Guard took over the village, converting it into an inland naval port specifically for training the Gambis navy.

The buildings and facilities in the harbor were simple and rustic, with many structures built directly from logs, exuding a natural atmosphere. It was dusk, and half of the setting sun had sunk into the vast, misty expanse of Lake Basse. The afterglow of sunset reflected on the deep green water, stretching out a brilliant streak of orange-red. On the west side of the docks, a long pier extended into the lake. Victor and Sylvia sat side by side at the end of the pier, each holding a fishing rod, their eyes fixed on the wooden fishing floats on the water’s surface.

The wooden float bobbed with the waves, showing no sign of sinking yet. Victor tugged his rod, and the spider silk fishing line instantly tensed. A red-scaled fish the size of a palm was pulled from the water, swinging right in front of Sylvia.

The Spirit Knight, like a carefree noble maiden in her prime, giggled as she caught the flopping red-scaled fish, unhooked it, and placed it in the fish basket. After re-baiting the hook, she dangled her slender, snow-white feet out of the water and leaned against Victor, planting a light kiss on his cheek, praising him joyfully, “The basket is almost full… Darling, you’re amazing.”

Victor turned to look at Sylvia’s radiant, beautiful face and said with a wry smile, “Darling, if you keep praising me like that, I’m going to blush.” He cast the line out and sighed, “I used to love fishing… Now, the moment a fish bites, I know what kind it is and how big it is… Knowing the result in advance, there’s no surprise, no fun.”

Sylvia blinked her azure eyes, the corners of her lips curling into a mischievous smile. “That’s why I don’t fish,” she said. “I just want to watch you fish.”

After a moment, Victor couldn’t help but ask, “Do you think we’re bullying the fish too much?”

“Are you referring to Sophia, or the Four Great Princes?” Sylvia raised a slender, willow-like brow and said with a light laugh, “People are much more complicated than fish. Even if the four of us decide the future political landscape of Gambis, we can’t possibly control all the changes. For instance, you probably didn’t expect the Four Great Princes to try to win over Sophia in this way.”

Victor thought for a moment, then shook his head. “I didn’t expect Catherine to choose to help the Four Great Princes get close to Sophia while deliberately distancing herself from her. But on second thought, Catherine made the most rational and correct decision.”

The royal hunting celebration was both a social and an important political event. If Anna botched it, not only would she lose face, but it would also damage Edward’s reputation.

If she couldn’t even handle a hunting celebration, what else could she do?

Catherine was unwilling to help Anna and instead recommended the inexperienced Sophia. It seemed the Duchess Osvid was preparing to watch Sophia make a fool of herself. However, Aerie Fortress would not let the Queen’s political debut end in a complete rout. The families of the Four Great Princes had rich experience in organizing all sorts of court celebrations. As long as Sophia asked them for help, all her problems would be easily solved.

On the surface, Catherine still resented Sophia for her past betrayal and was deliberately trying to embarrass her. In reality, she was paving the way for Edward to come of age and rule personally. The young king might not be interested in politics now, but that didn’t mean he would be indifferent in the future. Even if Williams was willing to step down in the future, Edward would still need to win the support of the Four Great Princes. This would not be easy. Ever since Roland gave up the throne, the Royal Capital’s Imperial Guard, the Swift Dragon Knights, and the Glory Knights had once again fallen under the control of the Four Great Princes. They swore fealty to Edward, but they supported Regent Williams. To prevent Edward from making Anna’s offspring the heir to the throne, the Four Great Princes had already pushed Williams’s eldest son, Charles, onto the throne of the Grand Duke of Aerie Fortress.

No matter how powerful the faction behind Anna was, its direct influence over the royal palace was very limited. Edward truly couldn’t contend with Charles Auguste, the Grand Duke. If the Duchess Osvid joined forces with the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence to oppose the Four Great Princes, it would only unite them more tightly around Charles. The Four Great Princes also didn’t want Catherine and Sophia to join forces. Sophia had betrayed Catherine, while they had always opposed the former Queen. Even after Edward ascended the throne and Catherine became pregnant with His Highness Randell’s offspring, the Four Great Princes never allowed the Tyrell family to enter Aerie Fortress’s inner circle. Catherine could only establish the House of Osvid, and her followers all had intricate ties with the Four Great Princes.

Although Sophia was proud and unruly, she had rejected Sylvia’s recruitment, which was enough to prove her political stance leaned toward neutrality. The families of the Four Great Princes could very well accept her, and they also had to accept the fact of the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence’s rise. Catherine had created an opportunity for both sides to make contact.

Only by sending Sophia, this big catfish, into the inner circle of Aerie Fortress was there a chance to shake the position of the Four Great Princes. For this, Catherine did not hesitate to offend Queen Anna.

Victor didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I was originally hoping the families of the Four Great Princes would cause some trouble for Sophia. Catherine really gave me a ‘surprise’.”

“Sophia will definitely run into trouble,” Sylvia said with a smile. “A half-goldenized Raging Wave Knight can’t debate the four Court Marquesses face-to-face, or else Golan would have to watch her. Sophia must find a regular noble to act as the agent for her Marquess’s estate… For a small fry to participate in a Privy Council Meeting, they’re bound to encounter all sorts of obstruction. I guarantee Sophia will enjoy this kind of life… If my status didn’t limit me, I’d want to make trouble for the four Marquesses myself.”

Habitually rubbing his nose, Victor said in a low voice, “I hope Sophia uses the kingdom’s tax reform as her entry point to make her voice heard in the Privy Council Meeting. This is crucial for the survival and development of The Golden Company. I just hope the four Court Marquesses don’t make trouble for me…”

“Darling, for us, the uncertainty of the political game is where the fun lies.” Her slender, snow-white feet, exquisitely shaped, stirred up a splash in the lake. Sylvia stood up barefoot, turning her head to look toward the shore. She smiled and said, “It’s just like the southern expansion strategy. We clearly had the initiative, but then the Boreans and Patriarch Tamor sent us a Brute Fighter captive, a warning, and a file of information, and the initiative between both sides was immediately reversed. Don’t you find that interesting?”

“How could we let them have their way?” Victor reeled in his fishing rod and also stood up, looking at Trisley, who was walking up the pier from the shore.

When she saw Victor’s teasing smile, a faint blush rose on her incomparably beautiful face, making her look exceptionally lovely.

“The Regent’s carriage has arrived. His Highness Golan has sent someone to ask you to come and listen to the report from Aerie Fortress’s advisors.” As she spoke, Trisley shot a fierce glare at the grinning Victor and continued, “It’s about the information on the Barbarian Kingdom provided by His Highness Andre Christopher.”

Chapter 586: The Vacant Throne

In a newly built wooden house on the west side of Kalil Harbor, Williams paused in surprise as he saw Sylvia and Victor walk in together. They were dressed in common clothes, holding fishing rods and creels, their manner casual and their expressions affectionate, like a newlywed fishing couple.

“You also enjoy… this?” Williams asked, lowering the hand he had raised to salute, a pleasant surprise in his voice. He often took his wife and children to experience different ways of life, finding great joy in it.

“Why not?” Victor set down his fishing rod and poured the live fish from the creel into a water tank in the house. “It’s like vacationing in a fishing village,” he said with a smile, “the kind where room and board are completely free.”

“Free?” The Regent was completely baffled. “Do you have to pay for a vacation in the Centaur Hills?” he asked, bewildered.

Sylvia smiled faintly, pulled out the chair at the head of the solid wood table, and sat down. In the tone of a hostess, she said, “Gentlemen, please make yourselves at home, but don’t expect me to prepare any cheese or fish soup for you… Also, why isn’t Roland here?”

“She boarded the Golden Fleece. The ship left the harbor for training this morning and was scheduled to return this afternoon. But they still haven’t come back yet… We don’t need to wait for her. The Princess said before she left that we only need to report the results of our discussion to her.” Marquess Golan pulled out a chair to the left of the dining table and sat down. He then pointed to a seat at the lower end of the table and instructed a middle-aged nobleman in a scribe’s uniform, “Valen, that is your seat.”

“Thank you, my lord. I’m fine standing.”

Once Victor and Williams were seated, the middle-aged nobleman placed a hand on his chest and bowed, taking a deep breath. “Your esteemed Highnesses, please allow me to introduce myself. I am the Vice-Chief Royal Scribe of Aerie Fortress, Viscount Valen Leopold. It is my greatest honor to be able to report the investigative conclusions of the Office of the Scribes to Your Highnesses.”

“My colleagues at the Office of the Scribes and I spent fourteen days carefully studying the materials provided by His Highness Randall and held in-depth exchanges with Scholar Clark of the Kingdom of Borea. We have reached several preliminary conclusions that require further verification…”

Viscount Valen spoke clearly and methodically, his narration flowing with a captivating rhythm. But for Victor, the conclusions of Aerie Fortress’s advisors held nothing new. He had already deduced the Barbarians’ experiences on the Southern Continent, as well as their conflicts and entanglements with their Orc kin, based on the information gifted to him by Andre and Tamor.

The Church’s documents recorded the divine stories of the Northern Barbarians.

On a certain day in ancient times, the Sky God Donar incarnated as the first Barbarian in history. He took the first beautiful female Orc as his wife, from whom the Barbarian race evolved. He ignited the light of wisdom in the Barbarians, distinguishing them from beasts forevermore, teaching them the use of fire and imparting to them ancient knowledge.

Donar told his Barbarian descendants that their mother was, in fact, an incarnation of the Earth Mother. The Earth Mother was the mother of all things, representing silence and chaos, presiding over procreation and death. She treated all creatures that walked upon the earth as equals, be they the tiny rat or the massive mammoth, the wise or the ignorant.

Therefore, the Barbarians proclaimed themselves Children of the Sky Spirit and Daughters of the Earth Spirit. The Barbarian Royal Family were the direct descendants of the Sky Spirit Donar, representing the guidance of their Father God. Due to these two different forms of worship, the Barbarians abided by the Earth Mother’s natural cycles. They opposed altering the original face of the land, did not plant crops or herd cattle and sheep, and lived by gathering and hunting. At the same time, the Barbarians revered the Sky Spirit’s light of wisdom and respected the authority of their Royal Family. They believed that the Earth Mother would not answer the Barbarians’ prayers, but members of the Royal Family could communicate with the Sky God Donar and convey his will through divination.

Whether the Barbarian myths were true or false, intentionally fabricated by the Royal Family to maintain their rule, or imposed upon them by the Wizards of the Chosen, Victor did not know. He was certain of one thing: the Northern Barbarians, with their belief system of half nature-worship and half divine bloodline-worship, belonged to a centralized civilization, but they posed no direct threat to the human city-states. On the contrary, the Barbarians, who lived by gathering and hunting, were very dependent on the material supplies from the human city-states. The Barbarian Royal Family relied on prophecy and divination, as well as food supplies from the city-state of Eyer, to firmly control the various Barbarian tribes, but this meant they were inevitably reduced to a vassal race of the Wizard City-states.

When the members of the Barbarian Royal Family were eradicated by the Wizards of the Pantheon, Barbarian civilization immediately collapsed. The Barbarian survivors who had drifted to the Southern Continent were never able to rebuild their civilization. They had no choice but to depend on their stronger, uglier relatives on the Southern Continent—the Orcs.

The Orcs and Barbarians looked different and looked down on each other, but the Barbarians were too few in number. Their individual strength and proportion of those who could enter a Savage state were inferior to the Orcs, so they became targets of the Orcs’ bullying. Fortunately, the Barbarians had a legacy of divination. Barbarian Shamans gained a certain degree of influence within Orc tribes, spreading the primal faith of the Sky Spirit and the Earth Mother. However, this could not fundamentally change the Barbarians’ disadvantaged position.

As Barbarian Shamans spread their faith and enhanced their influence, in their attempt to assimilate the Orcs, they inevitably had to take on Orc Shaman disciples and teach them the methods of divination and prophecy. They would place the skulls of prey or enemies in a fire to burn, interpreting the results of the divination based on the cracks that formed on the bones.

The key lay in whether the interpretation of the cracks was accurate. If the interpretation was accurate, the prophecy would be effective, and they could inject all sorts of hidden agendas into the prophecy. If the interpretation was wrong, the Shaman’s prestige would be swept away, and he might even be beaten like a dog by the tribe’s members. Clearly, only members of the Barbarian Royal Family possessed the talent to accurately interpret the bone cracks. Ordinary Barbarian Shamans were not fundamentally different from their Orc apprentices. The Orc Shamans, by virtue of their superior numbers, had a higher success rate with their prophecies, overwhelming their Barbarian Shaman tutors and gradually becoming a privileged class within the tribes.

Whether they were Barbarian Shamans or Orc Shamans, to maintain their own privileges, they had to affirm the greatness and sanctity of the Sky Spirit and the Earth Mother. However, the Orc Shamans deeply disliked the idea that the Sky Spirit’s bloodline made the Barbarians kings. To acknowledge this would mean that Barbarians were closer to the Sky God than Orcs. But to completely deny that the Sky God Donar was the father of both Barbarians and Orcs would be tantamount to negating divination and the very reason for the Shamans’ existence.

Thus, the Orc Shamans reinforced the worship of the Earth Mother, promoting the natural law of the strong devouring the weak. They refused to acknowledge any so-called King of the Barbarians, and the tribes adopted a chieftain challenge system where the strong were revered, eliminating the system of hereditary leadership from its very roots. Without a power core passed down through generations, the Shamans’ influence was indeed enhanced, but it also caused the race to fracture into numerous tribes. Over thousands of years, the Orcs and Barbarians failed to form a powerful political entity, remaining a primitive tribal civilization, as scattered and disunited as a plate of loose sand.

Victor believed that the Northern Barbarians’ attempt to assimilate the Southern Barbarians had failed. The belief system spread by the Barbarian Shamans had shifted, yet it was still able to accommodate ordinary Barbarian members. In the tribes, might makes right, and since the Barbarians’ strength and numbers were inferior to the Orcs, they deserved to be bullied by them.

The Barbarians had, in fact, been assimilated by the Orcs. Unless a member of the Barbarian Royal Family appeared once more, this situation would be very difficult to reverse!

The Barbarian Kingdom on the South Shore of the Great River Bend was a human term for it. It still practiced the chieftain system where the strongest ruled. Its full name should be the Orc and Barbarian Tribal Alliance, or “Gogen” for short.

About one hundred and twenty years ago, the Boreans perfected the technology for building large, flat-bottomed sailing ships, which had the advantages of large cargo capacity, stable sailing, and a shallow draft. This innovation in shipbuilding technology allowed the Kingdom of Borea to break through the blockade of the Fishmen in the shallows, making a landing on the South Shore possible. Thirty years later, the Kingdom of Borea finished refitting its fleet with these flat-bottomed warships. Ambitious Borean lords led forty-two new warships out of Southwind Harbor and sailed majestically into the shallows of the South Shore of the Great River Bend. The warships’ ballistae and greatbows could cover more than half of the shoals.

Faced with these behemoths approaching from their rear, the Fishmen in the South Shore shoals panicked. With no ability to fight back, they fled the riverbanks in droves. Without the Fishmen’s interference, the Borean landing craft smoothly stormed the beaches. For the first time in thousands of years, the armies of the human kingdoms set foot on the soil of the Southern Continent.

The commander of the Borean army, Duke Christopher, on one hand, organized his forces to build a wharf and an anti-fishman wall; on the other, he dispatched elite scouts to investigate the surrounding area. The scouts found a piece of land suitable for settlement. It was a place of lush grass and fertile soil, with vast, dense primeval mountain forests, and a mixed tribe of Orcs and Barbarians.

For land, and for security, the pioneers of the human kingdom had to crush that Barbarian tribe.

How strong could a Barbarian tribe that revered the way of nature and lived by gathering and hunting be? Their population did not exceed seven thousand. Barbarian Warriors used stone axes and stone spears, while Orc warriors preferred to use their own claws. Their enemy was an army of sixty thousand well-trained, fully armed human soldiers, along with over three hundred Knights and two thousand clergy.

The battle, a lopsided contest of strength, began at noon. The outcome was without suspense. The main Barbarian force was annihilated, and the army of the Kingdom of Borea broke through the Barbarian camp. The remaining Barbarians scattered in all directions.

The Boreans had seized their first strategic point. Commander Duke Christopher was not carried away by this easy victory. He knew full well that where there was one Barbarian tribe, there would be a second, and a third. They absolutely could not be allowed to unite and attack the human settlement.

Rivers nurture civilization; Barbarian tribes must be built near rivers and lakes. The Borean expeditionary force advanced along the rivers, destroying eighteen Barbarian tribes one after another along the way, carving out a defensive zone seven hundred kilometers deep. Only then did the expeditionary force turn back to build Vanguard Fortress in the pioneered territory.

It must be said that Duke Christopher’s strategy was extremely effective. The Barbarian tribes, with their primal faith, had no conviction to defend their homes to the death. Fleeing in the face of a strong enemy was a commonplace affair. The fleeing Barbarians spread the terror and power of the “Ironclad Men” to even more distant Barbarian tribes.

For a full four years afterward, the pioneers of the Kingdom of Borea were not harassed by the Barbarian natives. They constructed Vanguard Fortress, reclaimed farmland and pastures in the surrounding area, planted wheat, raised cattle and sheep, and even opened a surface mine.

If not for the Barbarian Shamaness Grona, the Kingdom of Borea might have already succeeded.

This female Shamaness, highly praised by the Gogen Barbarians, summoned dozens of Barbarian and Orc chieftains and persuaded them to unite to fight against the expeditionary force of the Kingdom of Borea. No one knows the details of that chieftain council, but Grona left behind three prophecies. The general meaning was that the humans in iron skin had come to exterminate the Barbarians and Orcs. No matter what cave the Barbarians and Orcs hid in, they would be dug out and killed. The Barbarians and Orcs had to elect a Great Chieftain of Gogen, and under his leadership, they would defeat the humans, occupy the stone houses they built, learn their technology, and finally, bury the Ironclad Men for good.

The third prophecy was that she would go to see the leader of the Ironclad Men and offer the blessings of the Father of the Sky and the Mother of the Earth. Then, she would be burned by the leader of the Ironclad Men with platinum-gold flames, which even the Father of the Sky’s thunder and tears could not extinguish. In a great rain, the Barbarian Warriors would send the enemy who burned her into the embrace of the Earth Mother.

In the journal of Cardinal Razlo of the Kingdom of Borea, there is such a description:

“This morning, Vanguard Fortress received a special visitor, a Barbarian female Shamaness named Grona, or Gorang… Barbarian names are tongue-twisting and foolish; whatever they’re called, they’re still lowly Barbarians. However, this female Shamaness is not bad looking. Even by the standards of a Knight, she is a remarkable beauty, especially her dark eyes, which are like a doe’s—clean, docile, and timid. But the moment she opened her mouth, I smelled the stench of an evil god! She haltingly greeted me in the human tongue, saying she came on the oracle of the Father of the Sky Spirit, to represent the Gogen tribe in surrendering to the humans. The Barbarians were willing to offer annual tribute in exchange for the more than two thousand Barbarian slaves captured by Vanguard Fortress… Heh, an oracle? The True God is without desire, supreme and sublime, and does not need to issue oracles to his followers. A so-called oracle is either the bewitching whisper of an evil god or the ravings of a sinner who falsely claims to be a god! Whichever this female Shamaness is, she ought to be Purified… Hmm, I should go speak to His Highness Christopher and catch that Gogen tribe that worships an evil god all in one net. The Barbarian and Orc captives are all strong laborers. I will Purify the evil god’s female shamaness, Grona, with the Holy Fire of the Supreme Lord in front of them.”

Duke Christopher’s memoirs record what happened next.

“It was premeditated, and Razlo made a mistake. There were no Gogen Barbarians at the designated location, no tribute, and my Ferocious Warriors had no premonition of approaching danger. This was highly abnormal! The Barbarian Shamaness’s evil arts had blinded the danger sense of the Ferocious Warriors, a fact confirmed by the ensuing battle. Razlo insisted on holding the Purification Ceremony in front of the Barbarian captives. This not only cost him his life but also brought great trouble to our descendants… The torrential rain obscured our vision, and our waterlogged leather armor slowed the soldiers’ march, while those bare-chested Barbarian captives were unaffected… On the way back to Vanguard Fortress, endless streams of Barbarians and Orcs swarmed us from all directions. They tore through the curtain of rain and surrounded us, shouting ‘Gogen! Gogen!’… I later learned that Gogen means Son of the Sky Spirit, King of the Barbarians. In the Era of the Chosen, Gogen represented the Barbarian Royal Court. But at that moment, I couldn’t afford to think about it. We first killed all the frenzied Barbarian captives, then led the army to break out… I hoped Vanguard Fortress would not send reinforcements; that would be a nightmare.”

“Thirty-five thousand Elite Soldiers and eight hundred Sacred Warriors were completely wiped out. Razlo is dead too, because he never returned. Outside Vanguard Fortress are nothing but Barbarians and Orcs, at least two hundred thousand of them. His Highness Violito went out personally to scout the enemy. He said more Barbarians are still flocking here. They have occupied our farms, pastures, mines, and blacksmithies, and are trying to produce food and forge equipment. Vanguard Fortress has enough food reserves for four more months, but we are running low on arrows and crossbow bolts. We must use them sparingly.”

“I now believe that Razlo was correct. Neither we nor the Church can tolerate a second faith within the human kingdoms. We cannot coexist with the Barbarians. Although at first, I had no intention of exterminating them, only viewing them as a primitive intelligent race like the Centaurs. In fact, they possess the extraordinary ability of divination and prophecy and firmly believe this is a gift from the Sky Spirit and the Earth Spirit. That is to say, Grona foresaw that we could not accept the Barbarians’ tribute, foresaw that she was destined to be Purified by Razlo. Her third prophecy becoming fact made the Barbarians and Orcs believe the first two… A specific hatred, enmity, and primal faith pushed the Barbarians to change their inherent way of life. Tribes large and small converged near Vanguard Fortress, protecting the Gogen Royal Court. The Great Chieftain of Vanguard Fortress holds his position for life. After his death, the chieftains of the various tribes compete for the position of Great Chieftain through force. But the Great Chieftain is not Gogen; the throne of the King of the Barbarians is kept vacant… I am very perplexed by this.”

Victor was also perplexed. By flying the banner of the King of the Barbarians and claiming to be the true line, the Gogen kingdom could attract Barbarian tribes to its side. But the Great Chieftain could not ascend to the throne. If he tried to change the lifelong tenure to a hereditary system, the other Barbarian chieftains would never submit, which would lead to the disintegration of the Gogen kingdom. But if the Sky God Donar had truly issued an oracle to Grona…

The vacant Barbarian throne… for whom had He prepared it?

Chapter 587: Pay Them No Mind

“Gogen City’s political structure is remarkably similar to ours, human. It has two systems of power—the Great Chieftain and the elderly shamans.”

“They don’t belong to any single tribe, only to Gogen City. When a tribal chieftain defeats all rivals to become the Great Chieftain, he becomes the leader of all Gogen tribes. He mediates disputes between member tribes and has the authority to summon their warriors for war, primarily against beastmen like the Centaurs.”

“Although the beastmen tribes of the Southern Continent are the Barbarians’ primary threat, the Gogen Barbarians firmly believe we humans intend to completely exterminate the Children of the Sky God and the Daughters of the Earth Mother, and that Gogen bears the great mission of burying humanity and defending all Barbarians… this is largely thanks to the shamans of Gogen City.”

“The shamans of Gogen City welcome any Barbarian tribe to visit or join the Gogen tribal confederation, and they teach their shamans divination and mystic knowledge. At the same time, they spread Grona’s anti-human prophecies… or, more accurately, her ideology. Elderly shamans from member tribes can move into Gogen City to settle. They are responsible for assisting the Great Chieftain in managing the entire Gogen confederation and maintaining its systems and order. This Gogen shaman class, with its mastery of prophecy and mystical power, is akin to the Radiant Church. In some ways, their voice and influence surpass the Great Chieftain’s, and they can even sway his decisions.”

“Like joining a human kingdom, there are many benefits for Barbarian tribes to join Gogen City. They pay an annual tribute and, in return, receive the Great Chieftain’s protection. They can learn new technologies and new ideas in Gogen City, breaking the shackles of their primitive beliefs to begin farming, herding, mining, and forging weapons. They can also engage in trade and intermarriage with other tribes in Gogen City.”

“It’s worth noting that those Barbarians oppressed by Orcs have been leaving their original tribes to join Gogen City. After more than ninety years of thriving and multiplying, Barbarians have gradually become the main inhabitants of Gogen City. Compared to the lax and lazy Orcs, individual Barbarians may lack some strength, but they are more intelligent and disciplined. In fact, the farmers, craftsmen, miners, and herdsmen in the Gogen tribes are mainly Barbarians. To retain the Barbarian members in their tribes, the chieftains and shamans have consciously elevated the status of Barbarians. In the Gogen Kingdom, at least, Barbarians and Orcs can coexist as equals. Gogen City has even formed a professional army composed mainly of Barbarians, called the Takakusa, which means ‘the Great Chieftain’s Warriors.’ The Takakusa warriors are well-trained and well-equipped, representing the most elite force of the Gogen Kingdom, and are deeply respected and envied by Gogen’s subjects.”

“The rise of the Gogen Barbarians is terrible news for us because they are the staunchest supporters of Grona’s mystical prophecies and are extremely hostile toward humans. As the most formidable armed force in Gogen City, their fanatical ideology has also influenced the Great Chieftain.”

“Intense hostility towards human kingdoms and a primitive faith in the Sky God and Earth Mother have united the Barbarians and Orcs into the Gogen Kingdom. We must recognize that the Gogen Barbarians crave land and hate humans, making them a major obstacle to our expansion into the Southern Continent.”

Scribe Valen finished in one breath, panting slightly. The atmosphere in the wooden cabin grew heavy. The Aerie Fortress Office of the Scribes’ findings confirmed the four Guardians’ initial assessment. Gambis’s expansion south of the river was destined to lead to war with the Gogen Kingdom. Even if the pioneers of the Gambis Kingdom never set foot on Gogen Barbarian territory, the Barbarians would come looking for them. It was only a matter of time.

The world was vast and boundless; for one race to completely exterminate another was incredibly difficult. During the Era of the Chosen, the Wizard City-states had dominated the other races, yet they still couldn’t wipe out the Northern Barbarians, let alone humans today. It wasn’t that the Radiant Church couldn’t coexist with the Barbarians, but that they couldn’t coexist as equals. In the eyes of humans, there was no essential difference between the Southern Barbarians, Centaurs, Ogres, Goblins, and Gnolls. The main goal was to drive them away and seize the fertile lands they occupied. But the Gogen Barbarian Kingdom saw things differently. They classified humans as an evil force that must be buried. Whether they could achieve this or not, they had to try. Otherwise, the civilization founded by the Gogen Kingdom would collapse from within, and the Barbarians and Orcs would revert to their primitive tribal state.

Setting aside the factor of the Barbarian gods for a moment, from the Gogen Kingdom’s perspective, having humans as a hypothetical enemy was the very foundation of its existence. The anti-human ideology acted as a catalyst, driving the transformation of the Barbarian tribes’ primitive beliefs. The Great Chieftain, the Gogen shamans, and the Gogen Barbarians created external pressure to compel the Barbarian and Orc tribes to submit to Gogen City’s rule. If this external pressure disappeared, the order of Gogen City’s rule would immediately crumble, and the civilization painstakingly built by the Gogen Kingdom’s ruling class would vanish like smoke.

This would explain why the Gogen Barbarians have kept the docks and the anti-fishman wall built by the Boreans. They want the members of the Gogen tribes to see the Borean fleet, using low-intensity warfare to deflect the kingdom’s internal conflicts. If the Borrey United Kingdom were to stop attacking the docks and infiltrating the Gogen Barbarian Kingdom, the Great Chieftain would surely build warships to launch a counterattack on the human’s Southwind Harbor.

Come at me. If you won’t, I’ll come at you… The Gogen Kingdom was forcing the Kingdom of Borea to take military action; the two sides had already formed a kind of strategic balance.

The moment the Gambis Kingdom expands south of the river, it will destroy this balance. As soon as the Gogen Barbarians learn that a human army has crossed Lake Fies and landed, they will be forced to fight, even if they don’t want to. Otherwise, Gogen City would lose its legitimate authority to rally the Barbarians and Orcs.

Marquess Golan rapped the table and asked in a low voice, “How large is the Gogen Barbarian Kingdom’s sphere of influence? What is its population? How many troops do they have? What do you know about their military equipment and structure?”

“…This.” Cold sweat beaded on Scribe Valen’s temples. The kingdom’s Minister of Military Affairs had designated the Gogen Barbarian Kingdom as an enemy, but the Aerie Fortress Office of the Scribes couldn’t answer a single one of his questions.

He steeled himself and explained, “That Orc Brute Fighter was very stupid… What it knew was limited. So…”

Sylvia smiled faintly, her voice as pleasant as ringing bells. “The power of interpretation is in the hands of the Kingdom of Borea. As for detailed intelligence on the Gogen Barbarian Kingdom, the Boreans are waiting for us to ask them. Blaming the Office of the Scribes is useless.”

Marquess Golan let out a cold snort, though it was unclear if it was directed at the Office of the Scribes or his disgust for the Kingdom of Borea’s petty tricks. He nodded and asked another question: “What impact will the Gogen Barbarians have on the kingdom’s southern expansion strategy and diplomacy?”

Viscount Valen, as if granted a pardon, cleared his throat and said, “In the early days of the ancient Blood Sacrifice War, the Northern Barbarians entered the Southern Continent from the Blood River, south of Lake Fies. We use the Blood River as a dividing line, splitting the Southern Continent into an eastern and a western region. The Gogen Barbarian Kingdom is located at the far eastern end of the eastern region, no less than four thousand five hundred kilometers in a straight line from Lake Fies. With such a vast distance, we believe the Gogen Barbarians have almost no influence over the western region. Therefore, we have two options.”

“First, we can develop the western region of the Southern Continent first. It’s closest to the kingdom’s rear, so the logistical and military pressures would certainly be much less than developing the eastern region. But this would also give the Gogen Barbarian Kingdom an opportunity to grow stronger and expand its sphere of influence. If we develop the western region, we can’t possibly block the escape routes of the western Barbarians. The fugitives will spread news of our landing to the eastern region. Under our pressure, those tribes that have not yet submitted to the Gogen Barbarian Kingdom will proactively align themselves with Gogen City. The greater the pressure we exert, the faster the Gogen Barbarians will expand. In a few decades, our pioneer fiefs will face the full-scale assault of a Barbarian empire.”

“Therefore, we should ally with the Boreans and first extinguish the threat of the Gogen Barbarians. The kingdom’s army would land in the eastern region, build defenses, and advance systematically, step by step, squeezing the Gogen Barbarian Kingdom’s room for development. If Gogen sends its main force to attack our defensive line, the Borrey United Kingdom’s main legion can land at the Great River Bend, sweep through the Gogen Barbarian Kingdom’s heartland, and cut off their supply lines. The day our legions and the Borean legions join forces will be the day the Gogen Barbarians are annihilated.”

Williams slammed the table, saying angrily, “We’ll be locked in a bloody battle with the Gogen Barbarians’ main force at the front, while the Boreans take advantage of the vacuum to plunder their heartland. This is exactly what they want.”

Viscount Valen bowed slightly and spoke, “Your Highness is truly perceptive. The Kingdom of Borea only needs a small elite force to pin down the Gogen Barbarian Kingdom. The Borrey United Kingdom’s main legion should land in the eastern region from Lake Fies alongside us and face the Gogen Barbarians’ main force together.”

“That would mean building a port on Lake Fies, which is not only what the Boreans want, but also what the Randt Imperial territory and Tamor hope for.” Sylvia raised a willow-like brow, a faint smile on her lips. “Don’t forget, if the Boreans merely leak the news of our southern expansion landing from the mouth of Lake Fies to the Gogen Barbarians, we might have to fight a bloody battle with their expeditionary force the moment we land… Gentlemen, it seems the initiative has already slipped from our hands.”

The room fell silent. Williams couldn’t help but frown. Of course, the Boreans wouldn’t deliberately leak news of Gambis’s expansion south of the river, but they would need to dispatch knight squads to scout the Gogen Barbarian Kingdom’s movements. Even if they didn’t, the Gambis Kingdom would have to send its own people to reconnoiter the enemy. If a Barbarian patrol captured someone alive, they could obtain the corresponding intelligence. Besides, Barbarian shamans had the ability of divination and prophecy.

At this moment, Williams had to admit that the initiative for the southern expansion strategy had indeed shifted into Patriarch Tamor’s hands.

Marquess Golan pondered for a moment before looking up to ask, “Your Highness Randell, what are your thoughts?”

Victor smiled, his demeanor calm and nonchalant. “Fortunately, the ancient Wizards severed the Barbarian Royal Family’s bloodline. Otherwise, we might have run into a bit of trouble during our expansion south of the river.”

Viscount Valen’s mouth opened and closed, unsure of what to say. If the Barbarian Royal Family’s bloodline had found its way to the Southern Continent, Gambis’s expansion south of the river would be facing a Barbarian empire. But His Highness Randell’s confident smile was highly infectious, as if even a Barbarian empire was merely “a bit of trouble” in his eyes.

“The Gogen Barbarians can’t be stronger than the Centaur or Ogre tribes, or else they would have already occupied the territory east of the Blood River, with their range of activity including the South Shore of Lake Fies. In our expansion south of the river, we have already listed the Centaurs and Ogres as potential adversaries. Why should we care about adding the Gogen Barbarians to the list?” Victor said unhurriedly.

An idea struck Williams. He turned and ordered the scribe to leave the cabin. After Viscount Valen bowed and departed, closing the wooden door behind him, Williams faced Victor and asked, “Mind Warriors?”

Victor nodded, then shook his head. “We can do more than just cultivate Mind Warriors. We also have the Gold Potion, the New Agro-husbandry, the tenant system, Iron bricks, and the mercenary legion. In the future, we will have a fleet that can traverse the rivers, coming and going as it pleases. Our strength is clearly greater than that of the Gogen Barbarians…. The key is whether we can gain a firm foothold on the Southern Continent, not defeating the Gogen Barbarian Kingdom. If we can’t establish a foothold, then we’ll wait until we can before expanding south of the river. If we can establish a foothold, we will only grow stronger and stronger. Time is on our side. As long as we ourselves are strong enough, the initiative for the southern expansion strategy will always remain in our hands.”

Sylvia’s eyes shone brightly. Her red lips parted as she asked, “My dear, do you think we should first develop the area west of the Blood River?”

“No! We should occupy the lands on both banks of the Blood River.”

This was Victor’s first time participating in a Guardian meeting to decide the future of the Gambis Empire. He had kept his envisioned expansion strategy a secret, even from Sylvia. Now, his spirits were high, and his eyes burned with passion as he spoke:

“The Gogen Barbarians in the east are a known competitor. It is still unknown whether there are more powerful native races in the western region. It would not be a wise decision to develop the western region and use the Blood River as a natural defensive line against the Gogen Barbarians’ attacks. The Blood River basin is the strategic ground we must seize.”

“I have always believed that the main reason for the Borrey United Kingdom’s failure in their southern expansion was building the Vanguard Fortress deep in the heartland of the Southern Continent. Their supply lines were stretched too long and were easily cut off by the Barbarians, turning Vanguard Fortress into an isolated city. The Borean pioneers were caught in a dilemma, unable to advance or retreat, and could only defend the fortress and await reinforcements. If they had prioritized building a castle and a port at their landing site on the south bank of the Great River Bend, they would have been able to advance or retreat at will, and troops and personnel from the Seven Great Islands could have continuously reinforced the front line. The Boreans’ situation might have been entirely different.”

“Of course, there were no stone quarries or forest resources on the south bank of the Great River Bend. The Kingdom of Borea’s choice to first build Vanguard Fortress was one of necessity. By the time they looked back to build a port, it was already too late.”

Victor’s tone shifted as he rapped the table. “We have giant brick kilns and the iron brick technique. We can absolutely build a port and sturdy fortifications at the mouth where the Blood River flows into Lake Fies. The Blood River runs north-south, connecting to Lake Fies in the north, and who knows where it leads to the south. But the Blood River basin is bound to be rich and fertile, and there are certainly powerful beastmen or Barbarian habitats along its banks. Those fellows are our main threat. If we cannot control the Blood River, our expeditionary force is in danger of having its rear cut off. The Blood River is the supply line, the troop transport line, the very lifeline of our southern expansion strategy! If our fleet can travel up and down the Blood River, we can land and fight at any point along its banks, freely employing tactics of division, encirclement, harassment, and interception. I call this the Leapfrog Tactic.”

“Leapfrog Tactic?” Marquess Golan pondered for a moment, then said, almost to himself, “Assuming the Gogen Barbarians launch an all-out attack on our pioneer territory, we could use the Blood River waterway to employ the Leapfrog Tactic and easily cut their supply lines… This tactic would be equally effective against any opponent.” At this, the Minister of Military Affairs looked up, sizing Victor up and down, and couldn’t help but ask, “Victor, you’ve never fought a war. How did you come up with such a brilliant strategy?”

“So clever it makes one jealous,” the Regent clicked his tongue and shook his head, sighing in admiration.

Sylvia’s smile was like a blooming flower. She stroked the back of Victor’s hand with her slender, fair one and asked softly, “My dear, what is the prerequisite for the Leapfrog Tactic?”

Victor stood up, leaning on the table, and said in a low, firm voice, “To take the Blood River, we must first take Lake Fies. For our fleet to move freely on the Blood River, it must be able to travel against the current.”

Williams hesitated, “Taking Lake Fies is our predetermined goal, but the technology for traveling upstream…”

Sylvia’s willow-like brows shot up, and she said with displeasure, “Don’t count on Victor for everything. What are all those craftsmen in Aerie Fortress for?”

Williams gave a dry laugh. “For shipbuilding, we also use the Kingdom of Borea’s technology… Improving shipbuilding techniques will still require some time for exploration.”

Victor also smiled and said, “I do have some ideas, but I’ll need the craftsmen and scholars of Aerie Fortress to help me verify them and see if they work.”

Marquess Golan stood up and nodded. “Let’s go to the docks. The Golden Fleece should be back in port. Aerie Fortress’s shipwrights are on board. We can take the Golden Fleece and sail down the West Blinor River. There’s a Potion-making Master in Longbridge Town waiting for Your Highnesses.”

A bright smile graced Sylvia’s lips. She rose gracefully and nodded. “I’ve been looking forward to it.”

Before leaving, the Regent pulled Victor aside and inquired, “Then, regarding the pioneer diplomacy between Gambis and the Kingdom of Borea, does Your Highness Randell have any counsel?”

Victor said nonchalantly, “Pay them no mind for now.”

Chapter 588: Boarding the Ship

“Among the kingdoms, only Gambis, a portion of the Randt Imperial territory, and the Kingdom of Borea intend to develop the Southern Continent. Patriarch Tamor wants to integrate the forces of the southern expansion lords, but he has misjudged the situation in the Kingdom of Gambis, or rather, he has failed to grasp Victor’s true intentions.

“The upper echelons of the Church generally believe that developing the Northern Continent is more important than developing the Southern Continent. The Northern Wildlands, which the Sasan Empire and Naville are preparing to reclaim, is truly a land of milk and honey; sow a handful of green wheat seeds on its red soil, and you will have a bountiful harvest the following year. The Dodor Kingdom has its eyes on the Ghost Forest and the Worton Plains, with their Dragonbone Steel, timber resources, and herds of cattle and sheep. To the north of Sus, the Twilight Forest holds Mithril, rare medicinal herbs, and high-quality wood.

“What rare resources the Southern Continent possesses is still an unknown, but it certainly lacks the red soil needed to grow green wheat. The Northern Wildlands once nurtured billions of people, and the Chosen Wizards established a magnificent City-state civilization there. In comparison, the Southern Continent can only be considered a barren, savage land. Otherwise, why didn’t the ancient Wizards and City-state Knights set foot on the Southern Continent’s soil? The Fishmen and the Goldwater River could not have stopped their advance.

“Moreover, the beastmen tribes occupy the fertile Northern Wildlands, their population constantly expanding, posing the most direct and urgent threat to the human kingdoms. The political, economic, and cultural centers of all the kingdoms are on the Northern Continent. Reclaiming their ancestral lands in the Northern Wildlands would not only strengthen the human kingdoms and eliminate the great threat of the beastmen, but it is also a sentiment that the Knight-Nobles and clergy have cherished for a thousand years. From the perspective of humanity as a whole, everyone, including the Lord of Gambis, admits that compared to the northern expansion strategy, the southern expansion strategy is merely a fallback for the kingdoms and the Church.

“Under these circumstances, the number of priests and Sacred Warriors Patriarch Tamor could mobilize was extremely limited. He was desperate for the southern expansion kingdoms to unite and successfully open up the Southern Continent. The Borrey United Kingdom had suffered at the hands of the Southern Barbarians before; they knew well that developing the Southern Continent would not be easy and were very willing to cooperate closely with Patriarch Tamor. And while the Kingdom of Gambis’s comprehensive national strength was far inferior to the Sasan Empire’s, it possessed the most formidable political force.

“To persuade the Kingdom of Gambis to accept the southern expansion strategy he had conceived, Tamor went to great lengths. On one hand, he pushed the Church to expand the ranks of the Templars; on the other, he took the risk of landing on the South Shore of the Great River Bend, capturing an Orc Brute Fighter to present to Gambis. He was sending a message to Gambis’s Guardians: the Gogen Barbarians, who were on par with the Kingdom of Borea, occupied only a corner of the Southern Continent. How many other powerful native races were there? The national strength of Gambis and Borea were similar; Gambis’s idea of monopolizing the Pioneering rights to the Southern Continent was unrealistic. It would be best for everyone to sit down and properly discuss the matter of the expansion south of the river.

“Discuss? No matter how they discussed it, building a port on Lake Fies was an unavoidable topic.

“In the long run, Gambis’s geopolitical environment is terrible. Other than the expansion south of the river, there are no other directions for it to expand. In the future, the center of the human kingdoms will certainly be in the fertile Northern Wildlands. Even if Gambis becomes a great southern empire, it cannot change the natural conditions of the land. Disparities in population, economy, military, and politics exist between the north and south, and with the passage of time, this gap will only become more pronounced. In the end, the Gambis Empire will be unable to compete with the northern empires.

“Victor has been secretly laying the groundwork in the Eastern Alliance, seeking a seaport, all for the sake of forming a navy to bypass the Nidam Great Marsh and advance on the eastern coast of the Northern Wildlands, to compete with the lords of Sasan and Naville for the fertile red soil. If Victor had a large colony in the Northern Wildlands and controlled sea power and the shipping rights of the Goldwater River, he couldn’t say for sure that the Gambis Empire would be able to overpower the northern empires, but at least the balance of power between north and south would not be lopsided.

“As a crucial node in this strategy, Lake Fies was something Victor was determined to acquire.

“The Auguste family did not know of Victor’s grand ambitions, but they could see the significance of Lake Fies to the Gambis Empire. The Goldwater River is an impassable natural barrier. If Gambis controlled Lake Fies, it could not only neutralize the potential military threat from northern lords against a southern empire, but also significantly enhance the southern empire’s political influence. The flow of goods and personnel between the Southern and Northern Continents would be entirely in the hands of the southern lords. If a great disaster were to strike the north, the northern expansion lords would have to plead for the southern expansion lords’ support or sanctuary. In other words, to leave a fallback for their families, the northern and southern lords would have to engage in an exchange of children, so as to avoid the awkward situation of the southern empire’s knight’s bloodlines all flocking to the northern empire.

“This is the strategic value of the great chasm that is the Goldwater River. The most critical point now is Lake Fies. Whoever controls the waters of Lake Fies will hold the initiative in the expansion south of the river.

“The western outlet of Lake Fies is within Gambis’s territory, and its conditions for building a port are clearly superior to those in the Chapman and Randell Fiefs. Yet, the Kingdom of Gambis abandoned its plan to build a port at the outlet precisely out of fear that the Randt Imperial territory would seize the opportunity to build a port on the shores of Lake Fies.

“There will definitely be a port on the shore of Lake Fies within the Randt Imperial territory; the Boreans’ army stationing on the front lines of the Twilight Forest in Sus, the Radiant Knights’ dalliance with Neo Wester, and the Kingdom of Naville pulling strings from the side are all for this purpose. Their current soft approach is due to fear of provoking the Spirit Knight. If they were to recklessly dispatch troops to help the Randt Imperial territory clear out the lakeside Fishmen and build a port and docks, the Kingdom of Gambis would certainly launch a war of revenge against Neo Wester. But if Gambis refuses to yield for too long, the diplomatic pressure it faces will only grow until it is forced to submit.

“The Borrey United Kingdom and Gambis both belong to the southern expansion lord faction, and their overall interests are aligned. But in the short term, Gambis’s naval power is far inferior to the Kingdom of Borea’s; it lags far behind in both shipbuilding technology and experienced sailors. Gambis needs time to cultivate a force capable of blockading the waters of Lake Fies.

“The problem now is that if Gambis does not respond to the goodwill of the Boreans and Patriarch Tamor, it may have to bear the military risks of the southern expansion alone in the future. At the very least, a resentful Borea would certainly find ways to sabotage Gambis’s efforts.

“If they seized control of the Lake Fies waters but suffered a military defeat in the southern expansion, only to have to plead for the Borrey United Kingdom to send troops and make major concessions in the end, what would be the point of so hastily occupying Lake Fies?

“After seeing the Brute Fighter captive that Patriarch Tamor sent, among the four Guardians of Gambis, besides Victor, Sylvia, Roland, and Golan all felt a sense of uncertainty, doubting whether Gambis had the ability to support the southern expansion strategy on its own.

“Victor went against the consensus, proposing the strategy of developing the Lake Fies and Blood River basin and the concept of the Leapfrog Tactic, doing his best to placate the Regent and the three Guardians and firming up their resolve to resist external forces building a port on the north shore of Lake Fies prematurely.

“Although His Highness Randall’s wisdom was extraordinary and he had repeatedly created miracles, and Sylvia and Marquess Golan had to admit that the strategy and tactics he proposed were brilliant, the matter of Gambis crossing the river was of great consequence. They couldn’t just believe whatever Victor said.

“Marquess Golan praised Victor for having a genius concept like the Leapfrog Tactic despite having no military command experience. Looking at it another way, he was subtly raising his own doubts.

“Can the modified warships really travel upstream on the Blood River? Can the Mind Warriors who can fight level one Brute Fighters be produced on a large scale? You have to show us something tangible before we’ll accept your strategy and tactics.

“Victor was fully confident in the Source Blood Secret Art, but he had no certain grasp on the modified warships. But that was irrelevant. He just wanted to stall for time.

“In short, the lakeside port must wait until Gambis’s fleet rules Lake Fies, and then it will be contracted and leased to The Golden Company!

The evening breeze blew gently as Victor and the others walked to the docks of Karil Harbor. Under the hazy moonlight, a massive warship cut across the quiet, deep lake surface, slowly approaching the pier.

It was semi-elliptical in shape, thirty-five meters long and twelve meters wide. From the waterline to the gunwale, it was as tall as a three-story building. Four masts towered high, their huge sails catching the evening wind, pushing the vessel through the waves as if a legendary beast from Lake Basse had appeared, an awe-inspiring sight. On the bowsprit stood a slender, graceful figure. She wore a tricorne hat and had a thin rapier hanging from her waist. Her upper body was clad only in a white flax shirt, while tight breeches and high-top leather boots outlined a slender waist and a pair of astonishingly long, straight legs. Heroic and dashing, brimming with high spirits, it was none other than Princess Royal Roland.

A look of admiration appeared on Sylvia’s stunningly beautiful face. “I’ve never seen such a large warship,” she marveled. “It’s truly magnificent.” Turning to see Victor’s calm expression, her eyes danced as she asked curiously, “What? Don’t you think it’s imposing?”

Twelve hundred tons at most. It’s a far cry from a ten thousand-ton giant. Not nearly as pleasing to the eye as Roland is… Victor complained internally, but he nodded without a change in expression. “Darling, in the future, I will build a flagship exclusively for you, even more magnificent and imposing than the Golden Fleece… Yes, let’s call it the Dragon-slayer.”

A sweet warmth filled Sylvia’s heart, and she looped her arm through her lover’s. Dragon-slayer was one of her titles; a vessel named by Victor would never bring shame to the name of the Dragon-slayer.

Before the ship had even docked, Roland leaped down from the bow, a single-barreled spyglass in her hand. She paced back and forth in front of the group with a smug swagger, her deep, lake-like eyes scrutinizing each person one by one, looking every bit the captain picking out sailors at the docks.

“I am Captain Roland Auguste of the Golden Fleece. If you want to ride my Golden Fleece, you’ll have to follow the captain’s arrangements…” She pointed to the tip of her own nose, speaking with a reserved yet majestic air.

Sylvia glanced at her, lifted her skirt, and with a single leap, landed softly on the deck of the Golden Fleece. Her movements were light and fluid, her posture graceful and elegant.

Victor scooped up Trisley by the backs of her knees, holding the Raging Waves female knight, who couldn’t circulate her Aura, in his arms in a princess carry. A gentle breeze enveloped the two of them as he took a step forward, leaping onto the nearly nine-meter-high deck of the Golden Fleece.

Even without using her Aura, Trisley possessed the strength of an ordinary Knight. Even if she couldn’t jump up to the gunwale, she could have dodged Victor’s princess carry. The fact that she could have dodged but didn’t was a public display of affection. The shy Trisley’s pretty face flushed red. Before Marquess Golan and the Regent could jump up, she wriggled out of Victor’s embrace, turned on her heel, and slipped into the cabin.

Roland stomped her foot on the pier, her lips pouting, and was the last to jump aboard. Seeing the sailors bowing their heads to Sylvia, each one adopting a respectful posture as if awaiting orders, she instantly forgot her anger and hurriedly emphasized, “I’m the captain of the Golden Fleece, you can’t give orders to my crew.”

Sylvia smiled faintly, her superior, queenly aura melting away like a spring breeze turning to gentle rain. She took Victor’s arm and said softly, “Captain Roland, I require a dignified cabin. Also, please have your first mate and designer show my husband around the Golden Fleece.”

Roland’s anger turned to joy. She took off her captain’s hat and curtsied with gentlemanly conduct, “It would be my pleasure, my esteemed Lady… Malena, take this beautiful lady to VIP Room One, it’s the best room on the Golden Fleece… Baron Haigete, First Mate Hansen, take these gentlemen on a tour of my ship. Remember, the captain’s quarters are off-limits.”

The ship’s designer and the first mate of the Golden Fleece came over. Victor and Marquess Golan were about to follow them into the lower decks when Roland blocked their path.

Staring at the captain’s hat bobbing in front of him, Victor looked up in confusion. “What is it?”

Roland shot a sideways glance at Victor and Marquess Golan, her face full of disdain. “Pay up! By the rules of sailing, boarding guests must first pay a deposit. When you disembark, we’ll settle your accommodation, food, and drink bills.”

“Roland!” Marquess Golan’s face darkened as he spoke, suppressing his anger.

“Don’t give me any lip, old man, pay up first!” Roland shouted fearlessly, her next sentence revealing her true intentions: “If you don’t have money, you’ll have to work for me on the Golden Fleece to pay off your debt. That’s the rule!”

Victor patted his empty pockets and said helplessly, “I didn’t bring any money, Your Excellency Captain. Can I owe you?”

“No credit for boarding, no payment for disembarking.”

Victor silently pried a sparkling blue diamond from his belt and placed it in the hat. Looking at the beaming Captain Roland, he couldn’t help but remind her, “It’s worth seven hundred and fifty Gold Sols…” He added, “This is a deposit, remember to give me my change.”

The princess, deep in her role, patted Victor’s shoulder and said with a sympathetic look, “Sir, no payment for disembarking.” Then, she very generously declared, “This gem can count as the fare for all five of you.”

Marquess Golan gave a cold snort and lifted his foot, just about to enter the cabin, when he heard Williams and Roland arguing:

“Don’t count me in… I’ll work on the Golden Fleece to pay my fare.”

Victor and Golan looked at each other, speechless, and followed the first mate of the Golden Fleece through the cabin door.

“Sailors, no need to dock! Drop the mooring lines, let the guests’ retinue climb up themselves. Charge everyone… Roland, how much is the deposit per person?”

“Five Gold Sols for every gentleman, fifteen Gold Sols for every lady… Hey, Uncle Williams, I’m the captain of the Golden Fleece!”

“Yes, you’re the captain, and I’m working off my fare for you.”

“Bob the bosun, give this newcomer a bucket and a rag, teach him how to polish my deck!”

“Er… Roland, I don’t think swabbing the deck is worth a one-hundred-and-fifty Gold Sol fare. I can act as captain in your stead. You’ve been sailing all day, you should find a first-class cabin and get a nice sleep. I’ll handle the night voyage… Bosun Bob, weigh anchor, hoist the sails, adjust our course! We’re headed for Longbridge Town on the West Blinor River, with Captain Williams personally at the helm… By the way, where is the helm?”

“…Uncle, I’m not tired at all. Fine, I’ll waive your deposit, you’re a guest on the Golden Fleece now… Hey, don’t touch my helm, you clumsy-handed newcomer!”

The sound of footsteps on the deck carried clearly into the lower cabins. Marquess Golan shook his head and said with some embarrassment, “Victor, don’t mind those two. We’ll do what we need to do.”

Victor nodded in silence, then suddenly turned to the Golden Fleece’s first mate, Hansen, and asked:

“Are you a member of the Masked Brotherhood?”

Chapter 589: The Chase

First Mate Hansen looked to be in his fifties. He was not tall, but lean and sharp, with graying hair, light brown eyes, and a pale forehead above a tanned face and sun-bleached eyebrows. His deeply lined face was like old tree bark soaked in oil—tough and full of vitality. Every sun-and-wind-carved line seemed to tell a story of the beauty of life. The middle finger on his right hand was missing a section, and the tip of his left index finger was gone, likely lost in an unfortunate capstan accident. It was common for old sailors to be missing fingers or toes, but that didn’t stop them from deftly tying practical knots or mending all sorts of tears, whether in sails or clothes. At the same time, their ability to withstand pressure was far greater than that of ordinary people.

It was said that experienced old sailors feared neither the dark nor the storm, and always carried with them a lingering, fishy smell of the water.

The first mate of The Golden Fleece was clearly one such experienced old sailor, the kind that only the Kingdom of Borea could produce.

Hansen’s expression was one of complete surprise. He placed his right hand over a tattoo on his neck: a human face mask pierced by a dagger. The Masked Brotherhood was infamous among the lower classes of the Kingdom of Borea, but he had never expected this incredibly handsome great noble from Gambis to have heard of it.

But there was nothing to worry about. He had already reported his entire history to the Household Department at Aerie Fortress. He quickly lowered his hand, revealing the Masked Brotherhood tattoo on his neck, and said respectfully, “Yes, my lord. I was once a member of the Masked Brotherhood.”

Marquess Golan glanced at the tattoo on First Mate Hansen’s neck, then turned to Victor. “You also know of the Kingdom of Borea’s Masked Brotherhood?”

Victor nodded and said lightly, “The Southwind and Wimbledon Merchant Associations were fighting each other, and assassins from the Masked Brotherhood caused my wife a great deal of trouble.”

Walking behind them, Baron Haigete felt a chill shoot through his heart, making the hairs on his body stand on end and his scalp tingle. All the sailors he had recruited from the Kingdom of Borea had been involved with the Masked Brotherhood. Just then, Marquess Golan’s deep, magnetic voice reached him, soothing his shrunken heart.

“Oh, I’ve heard the Masked Brotherhood is a loose union of freemen. Almost all Borean sailors operate under the banner of the Masked Brotherhood.”

Haigete breathed a sigh of relief and explained politely, “The Marquess is correct. The Masked Brotherhood is composed of many freemen gangs. Fishermen and sailors join the Brotherhood mainly to negotiate and resolve disputes. As I understand it, when sailors go out to fish, they often get into conflicts with other fleets over fishing grounds. Once a ship is out of port, the rough sailors lose their reverence for a lord’s laws and frequently attack each other, resulting in heavy casualties on both sides, and no one dares to fish in peace. Shipowners and sailors suffered huge losses because of this, so the sailors gradually formed fishing gangs of various sizes, all of which joined the Masked Brotherhood. In the name of the Brotherhood, they would sit down at a table and negotiate, dividing up their respective fishing waters.”

“A sailor couldn’t get on a boat without joining a fishing gang, and joining a gang meant joining the Brotherhood. However, the Masked Brotherhood has no fixed leader; it’s really just a negotiating table for freemen.” Baron Haigete paused, then pointed a finger at First Mate Hansen and explained to Victor, “Your Highness Randell, Hansen used to make a living in the fishing ports of the Kingdom of Borea under the banner of the Masked Brotherhood. He is now my recruited vassal, a subject of the Gambis Kingdom, and has nothing more to do with the Masked Brotherhood.”

Victor gave a noncommittal nod. Looking at the tense Baron, he asked with great interest, “Your Excellency Haigete, are you also from the Kingdom of Borea?”

The conflict between the Wimbledon Merchant Association and Borea’s Southwind Merchant Association had affected the merchants and ruffian enforcers below them. Some had shed blood and died for it, but in the eyes of the leaders of both sides, the struggle for profit between the two massive commercial organizations was like two behemoths clashing—both sides sustained damage, but nothing serious, let alone any real hatred. Moreover, the final result was a handshake and reconciliation; the Masked Brotherhood’s invasion of Naville’s underworld ended in a complete retreat, and Raymond Peter, who had instigated the underground war, was stripped of his position as head of the Southwind Merchant Association by a Borean great lord. The Wimbledon Merchant Association and the House of Randell’s Quicksilver had won a resounding victory.

Baron Haigete couldn’t fathom His Highness Randell’s mentality. Seeing that His Highness had changed the subject, he finally relaxed. Placing a hand on his chest, he bowed and said with considerable pride, “My mother is Lady Michelle of the Krudas family, from the North Shore of the Kingdom of Borea. I am the youngest son, and I was fostered at my Uncle Krudas’s home from a young age. Later, I went to the Silver Spire to study, where I had the fortune of being tutored by the great scholar Keden Grewald. By my tutor’s good graces, he recommended me to the noble Grewald family. Then Her Majesty Auguste bestowed upon me the title of Court Baron and appointed me to the position of Chief Royal Shipwright Inspector.”

In the Kingdom of Borea, the families of the North Shore, outside the Seven Great Islands, were considered second-rate at best. Victor had never even heard of the Krudas family. It was no wonder Haigete was so smug about having joined the Grewald family, one of the five great marquessates of Gambis.

Victor smiled and asked, “Your Excellency is an expert in shipbuilding?”

“I have some small experience,” Haigete said with restraint. “My uncle has a shipbuilding workshop and two fishing fleets under his name. I was exposed to shipbuilding and sailing from a young age, and at the Silver Spire, I specialized in shipbuilding studies under the Art of Forging. Hansen here used to lease one of my uncle’s fleets for long periods. He once hunted two Water Lizards in Lake Karon, west of the Great River Bend, and returned to port successfully.”

Victor couldn’t help but give Hansen a second look. He had specifically studied the operational methods of the Great River Bend’s fishing fleets and knew just how difficult it was for a fleet to hunt a single Water Lizard and transport it back to port. Successfully killing the Water Lizard was one thing; the key was having the ability to protect the priceless war trophy, or to seize the fruits of another’s labor. Either way, it proved they possessed outstanding naval combat capabilities.

The fishing fleets were owned by the Borean nobles, but their use was granted to freemen captains. The plundering and compromises between fleets had nothing to do with the nobles. As long as the captain brought the ship and the catch back to port, the noble owner would take seventy percent. If the ship sank, the noble owner would consider it bad luck and was strictly forbidden from taking his anger out on other noble owners. Those were the rules of the game. A captain with a big enough name could make others submit without a fight and was extremely popular with the Borean nobles.

In a sense, Aerie Fortress’s recruitment of the obscure Haigete, granting him the surname of a great noble and entrusting him with great responsibility, was not just for his shipbuilding knowledge, but most likely also because of Captain Hansen.

“The bards sing that a ship can have a soul, and a good captain gives her one,” Victor said with a smile, his gaze fixed on the old sailor’s sharp eyes.

A complex expression, mixing nostalgia for the past with disappointment in the present, appeared on Hansen’s deeply lined, dark face. He was silent for a moment before looking down at the planks of the lower deck and shaking his head. “I… The Golden Fleece hasn’t reached that level yet.”

“The Golden Fleece is just a training vessel. Tell me, what makes a ship with a soul?” Marquess Golan asked, his deep voice seeming to possess a magic that could reach into the depths of a person’s heart, making them question themselves.

Hansen looked up, his eyes burning. “The captain and crew are as one. That one becomes an extension of the ship, and that whole becomes intimately connected with the wind, waves, and currents. A ship with a soul can wear the wings of the wind, easily slice into the undercurrents beneath the surface, and hunt Water Lizards in a storm. She is so fast and agile that the overlord of the waters is as helpless as an infant before her.”

“How many captains in the Kingdom of Borea can give a ship a soul?” Victor asked.

Baron Haigete answered, “Hansen is one. Most of the experienced captains serve the families of the Seven Great Islands. As for how many there are exactly? I don’t know either…”

Victor and Marquess Golan exchanged a look, and both saw the gravity in the other’s eyes.

“The York family has fallen behind Auguste,” His Highness Randell said with a smile.

“We have fallen behind the Borrey United Kingdom,” Marquess Golan nodded and said. “At most, we have ten years.”

Victor thought for a moment and said, “If Gambis unites and strives to catch up, perhaps we can… After all, the hydrological conditions here are different.”

A smile appeared on Marquess Golan’s stern face. He inclined his head. “Your Highness Randell has only to command, and we will cooperate with all our strength.”

“I will do my best.”

Entering the oar room in the lower deck, Victor saw dozens of brawny, broad-shouldered men. They were neatly dressed, standing ramrod straight with steady gazes, their skin a little fairer than Captain Hansen’s. They were clearly elite soldiers from the Imperial Guard.

Hansen seemed less than satisfied with these disciplined soldiers, grumbling, “A good sailor should at least be used to going shirtless.”

Haigete quickly admonished him in a low voice, “This is the Royal Navy. You need to put away the ways of freemen sailors.”

Victor waved a hand to stop Haigete from scolding Hansen and asked, “The Golden Fleece has ten pairs of long oars. With sixty oarsmen here working in three shifts, can they make the ship go against the current?”

“My lord, that depends on the state of the current and the ship’s load,” First Mate Hansen, having just been reprimanded by his master, explained honestly. “On a calm lake, there’s no up or down current. Excellent oarsmen can make a ship accelerate, decelerate, or even reverse. But if the ship is too heavy, even with three shifts, the oarsmen won’t be able to take it. As for traveling against a river’s current, you basically can’t row against it; you still have to rely on the sails… I’m referring to a keelboat going upstream on the Goldwater River. A flat-bottomed boat is slow, has a shallow draft, and carries a heavy load. Even the most capable captain couldn’t sail a large flat-bottomed boat into Lake Karon on the upper Goldwater River.”

Old sailors were often chatterboxes. The more Hansen spoke, the more animated he became. He unbuttoned his collar, revealing a sturdy chest, and said with a shake of his head, “The waters of the Great River Bend are all territory of the fleets from the Seven Great Islands. They can fish there all year round. Their fleets have large flat-bottomed boats and fast keelboats that work together. Once a large Water Lizard is targeted, it can’t escape; they catch them every time. We North Shore fleets can only go upstream to Lake Karon to fish. We go up during the Season of Wind, cast our nets when the weather turns cold in the Season of Water, and then return, otherwise the catch would spoil. We only fish once a year, and we have to brave freezing rain and heavy snow. Our keelboats can travel against the current and are fast enough, but they aren’t as stable as flat-bottomed boats. If we’re unlucky, a Water Lizard could just flip us over…”

Baron Haigete coughed lightly beside him, reminding the old sailor not to stray too far from the topic. Victor, feigning great interest, interjected with a question.

“You can’t fish in the Great River Bend, and you can only go to Lake Karon once a year. What do you do the rest of the time?”

“Transport cargo. If there’s no business, we take the small keelboats out to sea to fish.” Hansen smacked his lips, a nostalgic look on his face. “The fish and shrimp from the sea are delicious, all valuable stuff. Every time we go out, as long as we make it back alive, everyone’s purse is full. And sea lizards are more numerous and larger than the Water Lizards in the river bend. Their entire bodies are treasures, worth four times as much as a Water Lizard. It’s a pity the owners won’t let the big ships go out to sea. We only have small boats, so we can’t catch sea lizards and have to avoid them.”

Marquess Golan was old-fashioned, a man who valued aristocratic etiquette and the dignity of an Extraordinary Knight. That he would deign to speak with Captain Hansen showed just how much Aerie Fortress valued this experienced old sailor. Knowing he wouldn’t get a chance to speak with Hansen alone, Victor asked his question openly, “Has the Borrey United Kingdom’s fleet explored the coastline for landing points?”

Baron Haigete fielded the question. “They’ve tried, but all attempts ended in failure. Large flat-bottomed sailboats can’t withstand the ocean waves. Keelboats are sturdy enough, but their draft is too deep; they can’t push into the shallow waters to clear out coastal Fishmen. Furthermore, the seawater is bitter, salty, and contains a Madness Poison. The fleet lacks fresh water supplies and can’t go far. Small fishing boats under two hundred tons, like those, can only patrol near the river mouth.”

Marquess Golan chuckled. “If the Kingdom of Borea could land from the coast, they wouldn’t be looking to cooperate with us, nor would they be eyeing the lands of the Southern Continent.”

Victor shook his head with a wry smile and was the first to walk out of the lower deck. Stepping onto the main deck, he saw Princess Roland “teaching” Williams how to steer—by talking, of course, as she gripped the ship’s wheel tightly, utterly unwilling to let go.

Marquess Golan stepped forward to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Victor. Gazing at the calm lake surface, he said, “Flat-bottomed boats can’t go to sea, and once fully loaded, they can’t go upstream on the Goldwater River. Do you have any good ideas?”

Victor didn’t answer directly. Instead, he turned to First Mate Hansen and asked, “The Blinor River is about two kilometers wide. Can a large keelboat travel upstream on it?”

Hansen looked troubled. “My lord, I’ve observed the Blinor River’s currents. It’s more turbulent than the Goldwater River. If a keelboat were fully loaded with one thousand tons, I estimate it could only travel upstream during the annual monsoon season. At other times, you’d probably need trackers on the banks to pull it.”

The Blinor River and the Blood River on the south side of Lake Fies were both major tributaries of the Goldwater River, so their hydrological conditions should be similar. If keelboats could only travel upstream on the Blinor River for the four months of the Season of Wind, then the situation on the Blood River would be much the same. If Gambis’s fleet could not move freely on the Blood River, the Blood River expansion strategy and the Leapfrog Tactic would be tantamount to failure.

Victor’s long, straight eyebrows rose, a smile playing on his lips. “What if we add a couple of wheels to the ship?”

“Put wheels on a ship?”

The sharp-eared Roland abandoned the ship’s wheel and bounced over to Victor’s side, squeezing Marquess Golan aside. She linked her arm with Victor’s, her eyes twinkling as she asked:

“Did you just say put wheels on a ship? Then is it a ship, or a cart? A ship-cart?”

“A paddle-wheeler… a paddle-wheel ship.”

Chapter 590: Paddle-Wheel Driven Ship

The Blinor River meandered from north to south, winding through bare fields. The Golden Fleece’s slanted white sail caught the piercingly cold northwest wind, pushing its hull through the dark green river water and parting it into two endless white wakes.

On the forecastle deck, Sylvia, dressed in a sky-blue gown, stood shoulder to shoulder with Victor as they gazed at the scenery along the Blinor River’s banks. The cold wind of the Season of Water, wrapped in a hazy, cold mist, blew past her, lingering with affection, as if an invisible pair of hands had taken a cloak of wind and mist and draped it over her.

Her dress fluttered, outlining her infinitely beautiful curves. Sylvia cast a feignedly annoyed glance at Victor before turning her pure, azure eyes toward the riverbank.

There, six-legged Swift Dragons let out low roars as a troop of Swift Dragon Knights rode alongside the ship. Ribbons on their long lances fluttered in the wind, and their dark purple scale armor scraped and collided with a clang.

“The strength and speed of Swift Dragons completely overwhelm mid-rank Bronze Knights. They are enormous and difficult to kill with a single sword strike. An initial-rank Knight would have a slim chance of survival if pursued by Swift Dragon cavalry.” Sylvia retracted her gaze, her willow-like brows furrowing as she sighed, “Swift Dragons are good swimmers, but in the water, they’re no threat to The Golden Fleece. They would just be picked off one by one by powerful bows and heavy crossbows… If the Extraordinary Knights don’t intervene, a Bronze-rank Knight’s role in a naval battle might be less effective than Captain Hansen’s… He’s the best captain the Augustes could find, but he’s not the best captain in the Kingdom of Borea.”

“My dear, do you think the fleet we plan to build over the next ten years can truly contend with the Boreans on Lake Fies?”

“That’s why we need to introduce new technology, to close the gap between us in shipbuilding.” Victor looked back at the helm, where First Mate Hansen was teaching the rookie sailors from Gambis how to steer. The two Auguste Highnesses, who usually monopolized the helm, were both in the captain’s cabin, studying the paddle-wheel blueprints he had provided along with Marquess Golan.

Sylvia pouted her translucent, rosy lips, her expression indignant as she said in a delicate voice, “The royal family has already started to accumulate shipbuilding experience and train naval soldiers, but the Queen’s family has nothing yet. It’s so frustrating that you gave the paddle-wheel system you worked so hard to design to the Royal Family first.”

Victor wrapped an arm around Sylvia’s soft and supple, slender waist, pecked her lightly on the lips, and pointed at the surging river water with a smile. “Who can blame them for having Lake Basse and the Blinor River? My dear lady, rest assured, our efforts today will bring even greater rewards.”

Sylvia smiled, pressing her lips together, and said softly, “My love, I really hope you’ve held something back.”

Meeting Sylvia’s pure, deep blue eyes, Victor touched his nose and shook his head with a wry smile. “Actually, regarding the wheeled ship, I only provided an immature idea. The August family is responsible for refining, realizing, and applying it, and they will pay a huge price in manpower, resources, and finances for it. In a way, we’re the ones getting the better deal… They will surely hold something back from the final product, and what we need to do is find a way to take it a step further based on their foundation.”

A paddle-wheel ship is a vessel fitted with rotating wheels on its sides or at its stern. Because part of the wheel is exposed above the water, it is called a paddle-wheel ship. A paddle-wheel propeller can operate continuously, making it an improvement over oar-propulsion. Of course, it also has very obvious drawbacks: it is cumbersome, its complex structure is easily damaged, it is prone to collisions when docking, and in rough seas, the side-mounted paddle wheels are partially lifted out of the water, affecting the vessel’s stability, and so on.

Therefore, paddle-wheel ships were widely used on inland lakes and river channels with calmer waters. It evolved from the ancient wheel boats of Huaxia. The original paddle-wheel ships were driven entirely by manpower, with men treading on wooden wheels inside the cabin. In the 17th century of Earth, the French scholar Denis Papin first proposed using a steam engine to power the side wheels of a ship. In 1707, he built a side-wheel driven boat in Kassel and tested it on the Fulda River. However, that boat was not machine-powered but still relied on manpower. Nevertheless, Papin’s idea was of great significance.

In 1807, the American Robert Fulton achieved a breakthrough. His wooden paddle-wheel ship, “The Clermont,” used the steam engine invented by Watt, becoming Earth’s first successfully operational commercial wheeled ship.

This other world had no coal or oil, and the cost of producing charcoal was too high while its GCV was too low. Developing a steam-powered wheeled ship was out of the question. The paddle-wheel ship Victor proposed still had to rely on human power. Fortunately, the humans of this world were much stronger than those of Earth, and there were various secret arts to enhance strength and stamina. It would be no problem for well-trained sailors to power a paddle-wheel ship.

Whether a human-powered paddle-wheel sailboat would be faster than an oar-and-sail ship remained to be seen, and Victor was certain it was less agile. However, if this ship propulsion technology from Earth could be realized here, it would be perfectly suited for the Kingdom of Gambis’s needs to develop a navy and dominate the inland lakes and rivers.

Rowing might seem simple, but mastering its various techniques was no easy feat. Experienced oarsmen were familiar with their ships and the hydrographic conditions. They coordinated with the sail-hands and helmsman to make the ship move forward, backward, and turn around quickly. In this respect, the navy that Gambis was still in the process of building was far inferior to the Boreans’. If Gambis were to develop its naval power using Borean ship technology, it wouldn’t be able to compete with the Borean fleet in ten years, let alone fifty or a hundred.

No one could claim sovereignty over the Goldwater River, because no one had the ability to build a castle on the water. Lake Fies on the Goldwater River was, of course, an unclaimed and lawless land. In an era where Bronze Knights were the mainstream, Extraordinary Knights would not attack each other unless absolutely necessary, as it would harm the fundamental interests of the entire Knight class. On the water, a Bronze Knight was truly less intimidating than an experienced old captain. The gap between the Gambis naval fleet and the Borean fleet was like that between an infant and a strong man; a Borean captain could crush the Gambis fleet with his hands tied behind his back.

Assuming the Randt Imperial territory could only build a port ten years from now, the Kingdom of Gambis’s warships would have an absolute numerical advantage for the first two decades. But once the Kingdom of Borea’s army was stationed in the Twilight Forest, they could continuously transport shipbuilding timber from the forest to the ports on Lake Fies. With their unrivaled shipbuilding technology, Borean warships would be launched one after another, and the Gambis fleet’s numerical superiority would quickly vanish. The Borean navy, acting as freemen sailors, would run rampant on Lake Fies, often playing the part of river pirates and lake bandits. While engaging in verbal disputes with the Kingdom of Gambis on land, they would relentlessly seize control of Lake Fies. The Gambis navy, with its inferior skills, could probably do nothing but glare and spew saliva.

The only solution for Gambis was to introduce new technology and avoid competing in the traditional field of shipbuilding. The new paddle-wheel-and-sail driven warship offered this possibility.

First, the sailors on a paddle-wheel ship only needed to tread on the wheels. It required no special skills; anyone could do it in the cabin. Moreover, the power output from the legs and waist is certainly greater and more enduring than that from the arms and chest muscles. The ability for continuous operation was an advantage the paddle-wheel drive had over oars. Continuous operation meant that a paddle-wheel ship could travel upstream on a river channel with no wind or a light breeze, whereas once the oarsmen of an oar-and-sail ship were exhausted and couldn’t row, the ship would be swept back by the current.

Second, Victor had put a great deal of thought into the design of the paddle-wheel propulsion system. He made full use of the principles of leverage and gear structures to maximize the output efficiency of the paddle wheels striking the water and reduce the sailors’ stamina consumption. A traditional oar-and-sail ship required sixty oarsmen and still couldn’t operate continuously. A paddle-wheel sailboat would only need forty wheel-treaders to continuously propel the ship forward, backward, or turn, and its sailing speed might even have an advantage.

In reality, Victor’s knowledge of shipbuilding came mainly from the contents of the Alchemical Human’s Will Side. He himself was not yet sure how effective the paddle-wheel drive system from Earth would be. Sylvia, however, had complete faith in her lover’s wisdom, believing the ship propulsion system he designed was invaluable. Giving such a precious technology to Aerie Fortress made Sylvia feel a sense of regret, along with a deep helplessness.

Shipbuilding is a profound and complex science. A paddle-wheel ship was not as simple as adding one or two large wheels to a sailboat. A ship is a large system composed of many subsystems. Suddenly changing its propulsion subsystem would have a ripple effect, requiring a massive investment of manpower, resources, finances, and, most precious of all, time, for continuous testing and modification before a finished paddle-wheel ship could be produced.

skillfully maneuvering a ship was equally difficult. A large warship had a captain, a first mate, a boatswain, a navigator, lookouts, sailors, and oarsmen. They had to be familiar with every part of the ship, be competent in every task, trust each other, and work in perfect coordination. Only an excellent team of sailors could give a ship life. In a sense, on the water, these people were more powerful than Bronze Knights.

Both shipbuilding and training a team of sailors required time, as well as a suitable location.

The Centaur Hills lacked these objective conditions, and even having the Alchemy Tower was useless.

The Alchemical Human’s Will Side contained twenty-one shipbuilding plans, four of which were for practical vessels; the rest all relied on alchemical formations for propulsion. Alchemical humans with the forging skill loaded could build ships, but they didn’t know how to sail them. What was the use of Victor building a ship according to blueprints?

Moreover, the Silvermoon River in the Centaur Hills was a shallow river, impassable for large ships, and Port Rose was not yet complete. If Victor and Sylvia wanted to train a navy for the Centaur Hills, they had to find another way.

Throughout the entire Kingdom of Gambis, only the Auguste family’s Caryll Fish Port on Lake Basse and the Joshua family’s Deepwater City had the conditions to build ships and train troops. In fact, the Gambis Senate had already passed an important resolution: the six great families—Auguste, York, Joshua, Wellington, Nim, and Chapman—would concentrate their power to build a navy on Lake Basse, accumulate shipbuilding experience, train sailors, practice coordinated naval operations, and jointly seek naval supremacy on Lake Fies.

For Victor to test his idea of a paddle-wheel sailboat, he had to share the paddle-wheel propulsion technology with the Augustes.

Looking at it from another angle, Victor had only provided an idea; the actual implementation relied on the Auguste family. Once there were results, all the great lords of Gambis would share in the technology. It seemed the Augustes were the ones suffering the biggest loss, but who could they blame for being the royal family of Gambis?

For the Kingdom of Gambis, the most pressing issue now was to trade time for strategic space. If they started holding each other back on major decisions, they might as well just give up on Lake Fies!

Of course, Sylvia didn’t know that Victor had indeed held something back.

The Alchemical humans possessed mature bearing technology.

The importance of bearings for mechanical rotational motion needs no further explanation. The great scholars of the Silver Spire had invented wooden ball bearings based on artifacts left over from the Era of the Chosen, but due to limitations in processing precision and material lifespan, wooden ball bearings could not be widely popularized. They could only exist as toy-like craft items, a technological reserve waiting to be developed.

The Alchemical auxiliary soldiers used Crystal Glaze Rock to fire crystal beads of uniform size, then infused them with Thorium to create standard Thorium bearings. Victor was confident that applying Thorium bearings to vehicles and ships would result in a qualitative leap in the operational efficiency of carriages and paddle-wheel ships!

Furthermore, the Thorium flat-bottomed sea boats made by the Alchemical auxiliary soldiers were structurally sound, fearless of ocean storms, and capable of entering the shallow waters of the coastline to drive away coastal Fishmen and make beachhead landings.

With these technologies, Victor’s core fleet would surely dominate the rivers, seas, and lakes, proving to be invincible and unmatched.

This was the technological monopoly brought about by the material science of the Alchemical Empire!

The sound of high-topped leather boots treading on wooden planks echoed on the deck. Victor, recognizing the unique rhythm of the footsteps, knew it was Roland approaching without even turning around.

The stunningly beautiful princess walked over to Victor and Sylvia, took out a crystal spyglass, and feigned a look toward the front of The Golden Fleece.

“It’s been fourteen days. Have you decided on the type of ship I provided?” Victor asked with an elegant smile.

Roland’s jewel-like green eyes glanced sideways at Victor, and she let out a disdainful snort from her fine, straight nose. Tapping the spyglass in her palm, she nodded and said:

“It’s decided. You provided four manufacturing plans for paddle-wheel ships. We’re preparing to build one of each. In addition, I’ve also decided to include the flat-bottomed paddle-wheel sailboat in the trial production plan.”

Victor’s eyes widened in an instant. He asked in disbelief, “Your Highness, I must remind you that trial shipbuilding may not succeed on the first try…”

“I know.”

Roland’s calm expression gave Victor a bad feeling. He thought for a moment and said tentatively, “If it fails, it will need to be modified, and those that can’t be modified will have to be rebuilt… I asked you to choose one trial plan, but you chose all of them and even added the flat-bottomed paddle-wheel sailboat… How much shipbuilding timber will that waste?”

“Indeed. That’s why I’m demanding that the Centaur Hills provide half of the timber for the experimental shipbuilding, as well as the canvas for the skin, refined iron nails, thin refined steel hull plates, and oh, right, the special Fishman adhesive,” Roland said, ticking off the items on her slender fingers and shaking her head.

Victor sucked in a cold breath, shaking his head like a pellet drum, and said repeatedly, “No, no… Oh, I mean, it’s enough to select one plan for now. There’s no need to trial so many at once… Uh, the flat-bottomed paddle-wheel sailboat isn’t very useful, is it? It can’t go against the current in the Red River.”

“It hasn’t been built yet, so how do you know it won’t work?” Roland put her hands on her slender waist, her beautiful large eyes narrowing with a playful yet dangerous expression, like a kitten preparing to hunt a mouse.

“All the shipbuilding plans you provided are for paddle-wheel sailboats under five hundred tons. Could it be….”

“I agreed to it,” Sylvia said calmly, nodding in assent.

Victor could only nod with a wry smile, his heart aching. The timber used for shipbuilding was very particular. The hundred-year-old redwood from the Gloomy Forest was dense and did not rot in water, making it an excellent raw material. But it had to undergo processes such as soaking, air-drying, and milling into planks, which took five years before it could be used for shipbuilding. The price of redwood from the Gloomy Forest had now increased sixfold, and the Randell Fief spent over twenty thousand Gold Sols annually on purchasing it. Putting the money aside, the key was that the timber took five years to mature. Victor had spent a fortune purchasing redwood, hoping to stockpile more qualified shipbuilding material in preparation for building his fleet. For Roland to ask him to provide timber to participate in the research and development trials for the paddle-wheel ship—he would rather give money than touch his family’s reserves.

If you want to be wasteful, that’s your business. Why drag me into it?

Victor muttered to himself, then said in a righteous tone, “The trial production of the paddle-wheel ship is for the bigger picture of the kingdom. We can’t let only the royal family and the Queen’s family bear the cost. The other great families must contribute as well!”

“Hmph! I was waiting for you to say that… This is His Highness Randell’s will; it has nothing to do with my little brother.”

Roland lifted her elegantly lined chin, wrinkling her small nose in triumph, then said with a look of disgust, “The Laketon docks are just ahead. In another half-day, you’ll be able to see that old bastard.”

“Victor, stirring things up with that old bastard… I’m starting to dislike you more and more.” Roland turned to go back to the cabin. As she descended the stairs, she turned her head and threw one last sentence over her shoulder, her footsteps thump, thump, thumping as she disappeared from the deck.

Victor shrugged nonchalantly, rubbing his chin. He turned to Sylvia and whispered with a smile, “It seems they’ve figured out my intentions.”

The cold wind at the bow and the gentle breeze beside her suddenly ceased. Sylvia elegantly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and said with a dazzling smile, “Golan, Williams, and Roland don’t understand shipbuilding. They’ve been studying the plans you provided this whole time not for the ship, but to try and deduce the changes behind the plan.”

Victor sharing the technological concept of the paddle-wheel drive with the great lords of Gambis was for the bigger picture of the Kingdom. But within the bigger picture, there were smaller schemes. The strategy to develop Lake Fies and the Red River, the Leapfrog Tactic, and the plan to trial-build paddle-wheel sailboats could also be considered bait for Tofwen the Wizard.

“Now, we don’t have to worry about him not taking the bait.”

A confident smile touched the corners of Victor’s lips. His dark gold, heterochromatic eyes stared out at the vast, boundless river, his sharp gaze piercing through the hazy cold mist. The docks of Longbridge Town were already visible in the distance.

Chapter 591: The Wizard Submits to Royal Authority

In the evening, The Golden Fleece docked at the eastern pier of Longbridge Town. After the guests had disembarked, the old sailor Hansen, now promoted to captain, directed the crew to turn the sails and extend the oars. Two rows of long oars struck the water’s surface in a unique rhythm, and the thousand-ton giant ship slowly turned around on the river, drawing gasps of amazement and cheers from the crowd of onlookers on the shore.

Once The Golden Fleece had completely changed direction, the sailors threw out thick mooring lines for the cavalry on the shore to loop around the necks of the six-legged Swift Dragons. More than twenty of the immensely powerful Swift Dragons then pulled The Golden Fleece, heading up the West Blinor River. The excited crowd of spectators followed along, and the number of people on the pier instantly thinned by more than half.

The lord of Longbridge Town and its resident priest came to visit the Protector of the Kingdom and the Regent. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Williams stepped forward to decline the lord and the priest’s eager invitations to stay, explaining only that their Highnesses of the kingdom had to return to the Royal Capital overnight to discuss urgent matters.

The journey from Longbridge Town to the Royal Capital would take six days on horseback. By midnight, the cavalry entourage was beginning to struggle to keep up. Sylvia ordered the cavalry from the Centaur Hills to rest for the night at a roadside outpost and report to the Duke’s mansion in the Royal Capital on their own the next day. She rode the Dire Swiftbird Hercules, while Victor and Trisley shared a Swift Dragon, and they continued onward with Marquess Golan’s Swift Dragon Knights.

The Swift Dragons galloped without rest, leaving two small towns and eight roadside outposts behind them. A little after three in the morning, Marquess Golan led the group off the main road and onto a remote country path. After another dozen or so kilometers, a rural farmstead backed by a forest appeared before Victor’s eyes.

The farmstead’s hounds barked furiously a few times before catching the scent of the Swift Dragons and falling silent. A Swift Dragon Knight waved a torch toward the main gate, and a few guards on night watch lowered the drawbridge, allowing the Swift Dragon Knights to enter.

“Oh, most beautiful, most wise, most courageous, and most amusing Your Highness the Princess, your most faithful servant, Big-Head Lorrin, has not slept a wink, all for the sake of being the very first to welcome you.”

A small figure threw himself down before Roland’s mount. The Leonine unicorn opened its bloody maw in a yawn, revealing sharp fangs in a menacing warning. The figure shrank back in fear, yet his mouth never stopped spouting cloying words of flattery.

“Er… If you could tell your beloved pet, Golden Fleece, to stop eyeing this loyal head of Lorrin’s, I would be deeply honored to use my own big head as your dismounting stool.”

Roland’s cheerful laughter rang out like silver bells. She first gave Golden Fleece a pat to calm it down, then leaped from her saddle and bent down to pat the head of her self-proclaimed faithful servant, Lorrin. “My little short friend, have you made anything interesting to present to this princess?”

“Lorrin has made a magical box! It has no mouth, but it sings. It sings ‘The Cassa Forest,’ and its voice is as lovely as an Iris Finch. It’s very amusing, the beautiful princess will surely love it,” Lorrin said fawningly, scrambling to his feet and waving his short arms.

He was only 1.3 meters tall and wore a colorful, ostentatiously styled set of court ceremonial robes. His body was like a child’s, but it was topped with a head a size larger than an adult’s. His hands, however, were long, slender, and well-proportioned, nimbly gesturing the shape of a box.

“A singing box? Quick, take me to see it.” Roland’s eyes lit up, and she strode off toward the depths of the farmstead.

A dwarf jester?

Victor steadied Trisley’s hand, helping her to the ground. He watched the dwarf, Lorrin, scurry after Roland. Just then, a figure as tall as a Giant charged over, reaching them in an instant. The dwarf was so frightened he did a somersault on the ground. Seeing who it was, he scrambled up and, hopping and jumping, pointed at the Giant and cursed:

“Aka, you idiot! You nearly ran into me! Careful, or I’ll jump up and smash your head in!”

Caligula scratched the back of his head, grinning foolishly. Narsen, who had caught up from behind, pulled him aside. They bowed to the princess to let her pass, then walked over to Victor and Sylvia and performed a one-knee kneel.

“Master, Aka missed you… Master, let’s go home. Master, Narsen made Aka fight with the people here. I didn’t want to fight, so he wouldn’t let Aka eat his fill,” Caligula complained as soon as he saw Victor.

Narsen shot Caligula a glare, then gave a dry laugh and wrung his hands as he explained, “My lord, just a test… I had Aka test the Mystic Warriors trained by the Master Tofwen.”

Victor ignored the two of them, his gaze fixed on the back of the dwarf jester, his mind still mulling over the singing box.

He can make a music box? Does that not mean he can make geared clocks? A jester possesses such skill?

Williams stepped forward and said with a warm smile, “Lorrin is the Master Tofwen’s adopted son and Aerie Fortress’s top-tier master craftsman. His greatest ambition is to be a court jester, but unfortunately, he has no talent for it. Besides Roland, no one treats him like one. If any craftsman in Aerie Fortress can improve His Highness Randall’s paddle-wheel drive system, it would have to be Lorrin.”

People believed dwarves were smarter than the average person, that their sense of humor was innate and their hands exceedingly nimble, making them natural illusionists. This was largely true. A dwarf who did not live by his wits generally had no way to survive, and one who used their brain constantly would naturally be a bit smarter than most.

Dwarves were mostly employed as bartenders, performers of illusions, and artisans. Their income was substantial, and like celebrities, they were popular with the majority. However, the Church’s priests believed that dwarves bore an original sin and could not have children. Thus, dwarf parents would send their children to the Church at a young age to have an attendant perform a purification, washing away their original sin. Priests encouraged this act of self-redemption, casting healing divine arts on the purified dwarves for free, and even helping them find tutors and arranging well-paying work. With the priests’ praise and recommendations, purified dwarves found it easier to access high society. Nobles would keep dwarves as family jesters to amuse their wives, children, and honored guests. This was because they posed no threat to the noble’s family, were skilled at reading people and flattery, and were also very intelligent. A jester dwarf could often influence their liege lord’s decisions, wielding an invisible power.

However, High-ranked Knights did not share the foul habits of lesser nobles and lords; they had no interest in jesters whose sole purpose was amusement and games. The position of court jester was almost the pinnacle of a dwarf’s professional aspirations, but it was not easy to attain. A king’s dwarf jester had to possess extraordinary skills.

For example, a top-tier master craftsman like Lorrin?

If he could make clocks, then future military operations could be coordinated with precision. Clocks that kept accurate time also had much broader applications… Victor’s thoughts churned, but his expression remained calm as he walked shoulder-to-shoulder with Sylvia, following Marquess Golan toward a large house deep within the farmstead.

At the entrance of the house stood two warriors, so strong they barely looked human. They were nearly two meters tall, with chests and shoulders of an exaggerated width. Their limbs were corded with bulging muscle, and their arms were thicker than an adult’s thigh, like bear-ogres magnified twice. Victor estimated their weight at over 180 kilograms, not much less than the 2.35-meter-tall Caligula. Their eyes, however, were dull and vacant; they did not seem very bright.

“Master, it was these two guys! They fought Aka, and when they lost, they wanted to keep fighting. We fought for half the day. I didn’t hurt them, but they just lay on the ground and played dead. And they made Aka late for his meal,” Caligula grumbled, pointing at the two hulking men who were now staring back at him, big eyes against small.

Victor withdrew his gaze and asked Narsen in a low voice, “How strong are they?”

“Well… they have a bit of strength,” the Bear of the Northlands nodded, which was a relatively high evaluation from him.

Williams glanced at Narsen, then looked up at Caligula, cursing inwardly:

A bit of strength? Can a Mystic Warrior even be compared to a Silver-rank Ferocious Warrior? This big oaf, apart from being a bit timid, has probably already touched Gold rank… Victor really struck gold, recruiting these two top-tier Ferocious Warriors as his subordinates.

Sylvia’s eyes shifted, a smile playing on her lips as she asked, “Are they the Mystic Warriors personally trained by the Master Tofwen?”

Marquess Golan nodded and replied, “Yes, they are The Faceless’s berserk guards. Their strength is comparable to a mid-rank Bronze Knight, but their stamina is even greater. They have an extremely resilient life force, and the pain of battle can stimulate their potential, somewhat similar to an Ogre’s berserk talent, though the increase in strength and speed is far weaker than a true berserk state. The weakness of the berserk guards is their dull minds and the immense resources they consume. It costs the Master Tofwen about fifteen thousand Gold Sols to train a single one. Even with the Royal Family’s wealth, it would be difficult to maintain a large number of them… It should be said, they are close to His Highness Randall’s Mind Warriors. I hope the cost of training a Mind Warrior can be kept under three thousand Gold Sols. As for the strength and stamina of the Mind Warriors, I won’t use the berserk guards as a benchmark.”

A mid-rank Knight’s strength was seven times that of an Elite Soldier, equivalent to the combined force of eleven strong men. For Tofwen to raise an ordinary person’s strength to such a level was simply incredible.

Victor gave a faint smile and said, “The berserk guards’ bodies are massive but uncoordinated. They clearly cannot ignite the fire of the mind. My Mind Warriors don’t have this problem. As for their strength, stamina, and talents, one must witness them firsthand to make a judgment.”

“Your Highness is full of confidence. I too look forward to the extraordinary qualities of the Mind Warriors,” Marquess Golan said with a smiling nod, gesturing with his hand. “Please, enter.”

Sylvia was the first to step into the great hall. She saw an elderly man sitting in a chair, attempting to stand with the shaky support of two attendants.

“Baron Tofwen Auguste?”

With the help of his attendants, the old Wizard knelt on both knees and prostrated himself upon the floor. His voice was aged and mumbled, yet it was filled with submission and reverence.

“Attendant to the late King, Chief of The Faceless, Tofwen Auguste, greets Your Majesty, Sylvia York. You are the radiance from the Elemental Sea, the source of a knight’s pride, the spiritual leader of the secular lords, the pillar of the Gambis Kingdom. I hereby extend my utmost respect to Your Majesty, Sylvia.”

Sylvia’s gaze hardened, and a majestic aura filled the entire hall, seeming to freeze even the candle flames. She took a step forward, the center of the world appearing to shift to her feet as she naturally took the seat of honor in the great hall.

This was a Wizard paying homage to a Spirit Knight… Victor gazed at Sylvia, high upon the main seat, and could not help but recall Father Miller’s assessment of her:

A Spirit Knight and Sylvia are one, but the two cannot be simply conflated.

He understood. At this moment, Sylvia stood on the boundary between human and god. Beyond this line, she would be a Spirit Knight, a moment of irreversible, brilliant splendor. Below this line, she was Sylvia: Protector of the Gambis Kingdom, Guardian of the Centaur Hills, leader of the York family, His Highness Randall’s partner, and Victor’s lover.

At this moment, she was the incarnation of the world’s origin, the pinnacle of knighthood, on par with the first Pope, representing the royal authority of secular lords, inviolable by the clergy. Tofwen prostrating himself at Sylvia’s feet was a submission to the royal authority of secular lords, a plea for the protection of a High-ranked Knight.

Sylvia looked at the reverent Tofwen, knowing full well that beneath that old, decaying shell lay a heart of stone. The late Queen Eline herself had been reduced to his test subject and victim. His hands were stained with the blood of innocents yet possessed an unparalleled magical power. Countless people had died because of him, yet the Auguste family, the Gambis Kingdom, and even she and Victor had had their destinies changed by him. If he had been born in the Era of the Chosen, he would surely have been an Archmage of the Council. But even in this age of declining magic, hidden in the shadow of the throne, he had likewise reached the pinnacle for a Wizard. The restoration of the Gambis Royal Family could be said to be his masterpiece.

“Your Excellency, how much longer do you have to live?”

“No more than eleven years.”

Sylvia nodded slightly and turned her gaze to Victor. A smile as gentle as water blossomed on her exquisite face. The strange phenomenon in the hall vanished instantly, and the candle flames began to burn brightly once more. Her red lips parted, and she spoke in a soft voice:

“I thank you for sending Victor to my side. For the rest of your life, you may ask one thing of me.”

Chapter 592: A Debate Over Direction

The old wizard felt as if he had just accidentally knocked over a table laden with rare, finished potions, but in the process, had unexpectedly acquired a new formula. The loss was devastating, but not without some gain. He then gave the new formula to another person to cut his losses, only to discover it was priceless. The regret was so intense he wanted to claw his own eyes out, throw them on the floor, and stomp on them twice.

Tofwen had always believed that recreating the Sun Elf bloodline was his greatest achievement. All the Mystic Warriors of the Faceless, including the wise gnomes, were less valuable than a single one of the Sun Elf’s fingers. He had secretly sent young Victor to Sylvia’s side, but Sylvia felt no need to be grateful. She had told Tofwen that she would allow him to ask a single favor of her in his lifetime, but gave no promise that she would grant it. This was, in truth, a ruthless mockery of the old wizard.

The Spirit Knight was a symbol of the king’s power in defiance of the Church’s divine authority, but at the same time, was also the greatest enemy of that same royal power. A king’s authority was always diminished in the presence of a Spirit Knight. The rise of the Iron Mountain Empire from the ashes of the old Empire was proof enough that a Spirit Knight would inevitably shatter the secular political balance. The fall of Ryan Auguste was the result of Gambis’s attempt to divert the internal turmoil caused by Sylvia outward, only to be countered by an alliance of kingdoms that successfully confined the political unrest within Gambis’s borders.

No one could make decisions for a Spirit Knight. Tofwen couldn’t just tell Sylvia, “I found you a little man in the hopes that a love life might help you resist the Elemental Sea’s corrosion of your soul. Don’t be in such a hurry to topple the Auguste throne. Give Gambis a little more time to shift its internal conflicts outward.”

The Faceless had surreptitiously placed Victor by Sylvia’s side. Sylvia could have considered this a malicious act, even though she was the greatest beneficiary. Thus, Tofwen had bowed his head to her in apology.

Events had spiraled beyond Tofwen’s control. Fortunately, Roland had calmly solved Gambis’s greatest problem. She facilitated a hostage exchange between the Auguste and York families, sent Edward on a visit to the Centaur Hills, and won over the then-obscure Sun Elf. This led to a reconciliation between the Queen and the Grand Duke, laying the foundation for the political structure between Gambis’s royal family and the Queen’s family.

However, the Auguste family had also lost the favor of His Highness Randell.

A Sun Elf and a female Spirit Knight were naturally drawn to each other; Victor and Sylvia were bound to get together. But Tofwen couldn’t help but think how perfect it would be if Gambis didn’t have Sylvia… Queen Roland Auguste would have taken Victor as her consort, and His Highness Prince Victor Auguste would have led the Auguste family to the throne of an empire.

This was destined to be an old man’s regret and fantasy. Tofwen knew full well that no one could manipulate the current His Highness Randell, not even Sylvia. He had not even followed the path of the Sword Saint Draven. Instead, he had analyzed a portion of the world’s underlying laws and created the theory of the Mind and Bloodline secret art. The light of his wisdom had outshone even that of the first Pope Inoc. He was not an authoritarian leader of the human kingdoms, yet he was secretly driving immense change within the kingdoms and the Church.

No one could fully grasp Victor’s thoughts. Tofwen’s intuition told him that Victor would silently seize the greatest benefits and power from this series of changes. Most frustratingly, it seemed no one could alter this outcome. They could only silently follow His Highness Randell’s lead and compete with other powers, striving for a higher position in the new order of the human kingdoms.

Now, His Highness Randell’s schemes have reached me… Alright, these old bones of mine are still of some use to Victor. Let me play this game of chess with you to the end and see whether the Auguste or the York family is the final winner… Victor, your weakness is actually Sylvia… In this game, at least, you’re bound to lose!

A brilliant glint, sharp as a sword, was hidden behind his cloudy, dim eyes. Tofwen said respectfully, “Your Highness Sylvia, I’m afraid I will soon have to ask that favor of you and have you help me make a choice.”

Marquess Golan stepped forward and personally helped the frail, weak old wizard up from the floor, signaling an attendant to bring over the wooden wheelchair.

Once Tofwen was seated, Sylvia rested her cheek on her hand and asked with great interest, “What choice?”

“You will know soon enough.”

Tofwen nodded, then turned to Victor with a kind and benevolent smile. “Your Highness Randell, the spirit meditation potion you requested has been successfully formulated. In addition, I have another achievement here—a potion that can enhance the power of the mind. Would you like to see it?”

The dark gold rings in Victor’s eyes spun slowly, appearing mysterious and profound in the dimly lit room. He placed a hand on his chest and bowed with a smile. “Of course. That was our previous agreement. But right now, I’m more interested in whether my Brute Fighter slave is still alive. How many secrets has the Master unearthed from him?”

“They’re all in the back room. Your four Highnesses, please follow me. The other lords may wait here for now. The attendants have prepared a lounge for you upstairs.”

The rain-sheltered corridor to the back room had a straw roof and walls of rammed earth and wheat straw. Braziers were placed at intervals along both sides for light, and a row of ventilation windows lined the walls. The damp, cold fog suppressed the bright flames, causing the light in the corridor to flicker. As the group walked, their shifting shadows danced on the walls and floor.

Victor looked around and said, puzzled, “This appears to be an ordinary farmhouse. The walls on either side have no defensive function… Is the layout of Auguste’s secret fortress truly this simple? Aren’t you afraid of being infiltrated by enemies?”

Williams, pushing Tofwen’s wheelchair, chuckled. “Wherever Master Tofwen is, that is our secret fortress. When he is not here, this is just an ordinary farmhouse belonging to the Household Department of Aerie Fortress.”

Victor was taken aback for a moment, then gave a thumbs-up in praise. “A very clever method.”

The back room was actually the farmhouse’s large storeroom, used for seeds and tools. It was a modest size, but had now become Tofwen’s potion laboratory. A Faceless guard pushed open the door, and Victor saw a big-headed dwarf with a face full of hair roaring at a laboratory attendant:

“You clumsy pig! Moonflower seeds must be mixed with the juice of fig tree roots! The ratio to clear water is four to one! Boil it for half a small hourglass! How many times do I have to repeat something so simple? You idiot, you grabbed the wrong flask! Dammit, be careful with that green hunter lizard venom! If you spill it on the floor, I’ll have you lick it clean with your tongue!”

The dwarf was unkempt, his beard and hair a single, tangled mass that looked like it hadn’t been trimmed in ages. His short, stout body radiated an imposing aura, as if he were the tyrant of this room. The surrounding attendants dared not challenge his authority, obediently following his commands and cautiously enduring his explosive temper.

A gratified smile appeared on Tofwen’s aged face. He introduced in a low voice, “Glyn, the Auguste family’s most outstanding Potion Master… I rely on Wizardry; he relies on talent and passion.”

“Glyn, come here!” Williams called out on Tofwen’s behalf.

The dwarf potion master finally noticed Tofwen and the others. He slowly walked over, nodding to Marquess Golan and Williams along the way. His gaze skimmed past Sylvia, who had faded her presence, and lingered on Victor for a few seconds. Then, he scowled at Tofwen, waving his arms and complaining loudly, “Father, the droppings of the long-tailed bats from the Twilight Forest still haven’t arrived! My work has ground to a halt.”

“The Regent is here. Ask him,” Tofwen said with a grin.

Williams looked slightly embarrassed. “I don’t think there’s any difference between the long-tailed bats of the Twilight Forest and those in the mountains of Gambis.”

Glyn jumped up and down, roaring, “The long-tailed bats are the same, but the things they eat are not! How can their droppings be the same?”

The Regent spoke decisively. “That will still take some time… hmm, two and a half months. I guarantee you will get the droppings of the long-tailed bats from the Twilight Forest. Now, please bring the research data on the Orc Brute Fighter for His Highness Randell… and his wife to review.”

Upon hearing this, the dwarf brushed the hair out of his eyes and looked Victor over again with a delighted expression. He asked loudly, “You’re His Highness Randell, Caligula’s master? Could you allow Caligula to assist me with an experiment… just taking two potions…”

“No more nonsense! Go get it! Otherwise, you can wait another four months for those bat droppings,” Williams threatened, as if the dwarf Glyn’s request for bat droppings wasn’t for the benefit of the Auguste family.

“Fine! Fine! Fine! I’ll go get them now.” The dwarf scurried towards a cupboard in the back on his short little legs.

A smug smile touched Williams’s lips. He turned to Sylvia and explained, “Glyn doesn’t understand etiquette and is indifferent to the affairs of nobles. He is purely a scholar of potion-making.”

Sylvia smiled faintly, her voice soft. “I will not chide him for his impoliteness. On the contrary, I admire his dedication to his studies.”

The dwarf Glyn returned holding three parchment scrolls. As he handed them to the Regent, he stressed, “Two and a half months? Two and a half months!”

“Two and a half months,” Williams confirmed, taking the scrolls and handing them to Victor.

Watching the handsome His Highness Randell with his unusual dark gold eyes unfurl the scrolls and scan them quickly, Glyn couldn’t resist asking again, “Hey, you… Aka’s master, can you let Aka help me with two small experiments?”

“I must refuse.” Victor passed the scroll he had finished reading to Sylvia and asked casually, “Lorrin… Glyn… Is Lorrin your brother?”

“My own brother!” the dwarf potion master grumbled unhappily. “That good-for-nothing slacker. I’m ashamed of him.”

They’re really blood brothers? Not dwarves modified with potions by Tofwen the Wizard?

Victor suspected these two dwarves were also a special form of Mystic Warrior. Although he disliked using humans for medicinal experiments, he wouldn’t question Tofwen’s methods.

Well, even on Earth, this sort of thing has always happened… Victor memorized the contents of the scroll and turned to ask, “Master Tofwen, where is my Brute Fighter slave?”

“In the dungeon out back. Alive and healthy.”

The dwarf Glyn panicked, his voice shrill. “You can’t take him! You can’t! I still have many experiments to conduct! I need to concoct potions that can put an Orc Brute Fighter to sleep, weaken him, and poison him…”

Victor cut the dwarf potion master off, his gaze as sharp as a sword. “And will he remain alive and well after that?”

“Well… who knows? How should I know if you ask me?” Glyn grew even more flustered. He looked at Williams pleadingly. “Don’t let him take the Orc! You’re the Regent, your word is final… Buy the Orc with gold! Deduct it from my annual tribute!”

“Your annual tribute has been advanced seventeen years into the future. I have no more money in my pockets for you to borrow against.”

Williams ignored the deeply indebted Potion Master and nodded to Victor. “His Highness Randell can take the Brute Fighter slave away at any time.”

A gentle smile appeared on Victor’s face as he nodded. “I have no intention of taking the Orc away, nor do I object to Master Glyn using him for medicinal experiments. However, that will have to wait until I’ve first studied the Brute Fighter’s Bloodline talent to see if I can simulate the Brute Fighter’s Bloodrage with a Mind Bloodline secret art. I hope Master Tofwen will be able to assist me.”

“Agree to it! Father, agree to it! I’m begging you…” Glyn threw himself before the wheelchair, clasping his hands to his chest in supplication.

A bearded dwarf striking the pose of a child begging an adult for honey… The mental image was… something else.

“Glyn, go back to your work. I’m sure His Highness Randell will not be taking the Orc away.”

Tofwen’s words were clearly more effective than the Regent’s. Glyn obediently returned to his workbench. The old wizard looked up at Victor, then closed his eyes, his expression weary, his voice weak.

“I am old now, and my time is short. I do not have the vigor to complete all my research… Regarding the Orc Brute Fighter, what I ‘see’ is a Bloodline that is close to human, yet completely different. Orc Brute Fighters are not like Goblins, Gnolls, Ogres, or Kobolds; in my eyes, those are all just medicinal properties. This is proof enough that the Barbarians, like the Elves, are close relatives of humans, or perhaps an offshoot. The hundreds of bloodline variations in humans include the Barbarians’ bloodline, but those are all dormant human bloodlines, difficult to activate even with potions. The Barbarians’ bloodline, however, has already solidified.”

“However, while the Barbarian bloodline is not as complex and varied as the human one, it leans toward abilities of blood—Bloodlust, frenzy, blood-boiling, and so on…”

Tofwen shook his head in confusion. “I cannot see the higher life forms of the Barbarians. What’s suspicious is that a Brute Fighter’s Bloodrage can stimulate their bloodline to evolve into a variety of abilities, such as physical resilience, ignoring pain, increased strength and agility, and even mental acuity… I cannot explain this phenomenon, but I speculate that high-rank Brute Fighters might possess extraordinary abilities that can alter reality, similar to Wizardry, able to both strengthen themselves and affect their opponents… I can only be certain of one thing: Bloodrage is very much like a knight’s Aura. It could perhaps be called a Blood Aura, a unique ability of the Brute Fighters that cannot be replicated.”

Victor’s eyes burned with intensity as he nodded and said in a low voice, “This is exactly what I need. According to my vision, high-rank Mind Warriors should possess a combination of multiple Bloodline talents. And advanced Bloodline talents require a specific type of energy for activation and use. Otherwise, relying solely on pure spiritual power to drive advanced Bloodline talents would make the extraordinary effects difficult to sustain; mental power would be exhausted too quickly. The knight’s Aura and the Brute Fighter’s Bloodrage have given me an idea: use mental power to drive a special life energy, and then use that special life energy to activate extraordinary talents.”

“To use an analogy, the Mind Warrior’s talent combination is like a Divine Art Model, and the life energy is like a clergy’s holy power. When the two are combined, the high-rank Mind Warrior is born.”

“A knight’s Aura and a clergy’s holy power cannot be replicated. In comparison, the Brute Fighter’s Bloodrage is closer to the world’s underlying laws. As for human life energy, I am leaning towards the vast, latent life force within us. If a person’s mental power could restrain and mobilize this inner potential, that might be the developmental path for high-rank Mind Warriors.”

Victor calmed his excitement and said solemnly, “Studying the way Bloodrage operates can provide me with a valuable reference.”

Williams couldn’t help but ask, “Victor, how do you know that Bloodrage wasn’t a gift bestowed upon the Brute Fighters by the Sky God Donar?”

“Even so, He cannot transcend the principles of change from the origin of the world!” Victor stated definitively. “A knight’s Aura and elemental nodes stem from a knight’s special bloodline; holy power comes from the believers’ faith in the Lord of Radiance, which the Supreme Lord transforms into holy power—it essentially falls within the domain of the power of the mind. So what is Bloodrage? Based on the current conclusions, at least, it is closer to life energy.”

Marquess Golan wore a pensive expression. After a moment, he spoke slowly. “The Source Blood Secret Art taught by Lord Narsen is very brilliant. Master Tofwen tracked the little attendants who practiced the level one Source Blood Secret Art for six months. It’s certain that even without taking Body-strengthening Potions, they have a high chance of surpassing ordinary Elite Soldiers and achieving twice the physical fitness of a normal person. If they use Aerie Fortress’s specially-made Strength Potion, the training effect is significantly enhanced, and the training time is greatly reduced.”

“The significance of the Source Blood Secret Art is immense because it saves resources and time.” Marquess Golan’s tone shifted as he shook his head. “However, we have not seen any Mind Warriors with Bloodline talents. Narsen and Caligula are powerful, but they are not the Mind Warriors you describe.”

Williams nodded repeatedly, chiming in, “Victor, we believe in the correctness of the theory of the Mind and Bloodline because we have already achieved some results. However, according to your theory, combining multiple bloodline variations into a single Bloodline talent is clearly quite complex. A knight’s bloodline has only one variation. Using training methods and the power of the mind to enhance the activity of the knight’s bloodline is obviously much simpler.”

He paused, then added tactfully, “Master Tofwen’s vigor is not what it used to be. It is difficult for him to balance two different research directions for the Mind and Bloodline—one for ordinary warriors and one for knights… I sincerely hope that Your Highness will cooperate with Aerie Fortress to focus on the secret art of the mind for the knight’s bloodline. After all, Mind Warriors only exist in theory. We have seen no actual examples.”

Victor glanced back at Sylvia, pondered for a moment, then raised an eyebrow. “You want to see an example? Then the example is right before your eyes.”

He raised his right hand. A flow of cyan-black air appeared, swirling around it, instantly transforming into a sharp wind blade. With a hiss, a cut opened on his palm, and beads of crimson blood trickled down his fair, slender hand.

Chapter 593: Silver-Tongued

The crimson beads of blood on the pale, slender hand were a shocking sight. The room fell silent for a moment, then the dwarf pharmacist’s tense, urgent cry rang out:

“The gold-eyed Highness is bleeding! Quick…”

“…get me an empty cup, the largest crystal one!”

Hearing this, Marquess Golan’s amber pupils instantly dilated. With a flicker of movement, he positioned himself between Sylvia and Glyn.

“Sylvia, stay your hand! Don’t hurt him!”

The dwarf pharmacist, who had been rushing over, suddenly felt as if he were being stared down by a terrifying dragon. The moment his gaze met those deep, azure eyes, he felt as if a red-hot iron needle had pierced the space between his eyebrows. His vision went dark, and he collapsed onto the floor. The large crystal cup, sturdy enough, went clattering to the side.

Glyn, having regained his senses, scrambled backward in lingering fear, hiding behind a large table. A moment later, he cautiously peeked out with half his face and witnessed a miraculous scene.

The bright candlelight cast a pale yellow glow over Tofwen and the others. The blood on the gold-eyed Highness’s hand was drawn by an invisible force, suspending it in mid-air and pulling it drop by drop toward the fingertips of the noble lady with the terrifying blue eyes.

Green void water element quietly materialized, corroding the sphere of blood on her fingertip until nothing remained. Sylvia gazed at the wound on Victor’s hand, her gentle eyes filled with remorse, but to others, it looked like an expression of疼惜 and tender affection.

She had objected to Victor meeting Tofwen with the Mind Warriors he had created through Wizardry, which was why Victor had summoned a wind blade and cut himself.

Victor, completely unconcerned, displayed his injured right hand while his left hand came to rest on the back of the old Wizard’s. His mismatched eyes turned completely dark gold, and the wound on his right hand healed at a speed visible to the naked eye. A moment later, only a faint pink mark remained.

He nodded in satisfaction. When he had named his yet-to-be-born eldest daughter, his spiritual strength had increased by at least two points, and his Transcendent combat skill and Bloodline talent had seen massive improvements. Previously, the speed and display of his self-healing weren’t so exaggerated; the wound on his palm would have taken at least six minutes and forty seconds to heal completely.

“High-ranked Knights perceive elemental changes, and the Master Tofwen investigates bloodline variations. What are your conclusions now, gentlemen?” Victor asked, pleased and triumphant, as he wiggled his uninjured hand.

After a brief silence, Williams was the first to speak, his voice filled with amazement. “I perceived the activity of the fire element and the void water element in Victor’s body. The void water element, in particular, surged toward his hand, and then I saw the wound stop bleeding and heal rapidly… This is not the Semi-elementalization of a High-ranked Knight. It was like the effect of a level-three Healing divine art cast by a priest.”

“The bloodline variation that governs self-healing has been thoroughly activated, its activity level surpassing even that of a Half-dragon in a Savage state.” Tofwen the Wizard shook his head and added in a hoarse voice, “Neither Sun Elves nor humans possess a self-healing bloodline to this degree.”

“It’s close to the healing ability of the two-headed Dragon-Lizard Itugos,” Sylvia said with a smile, nestling against Victor’s arm.

Marquess Golan nodded. “His spiritual power guided the void water element within his body, and the bloodline variation governing self-healing transformed the void water element into life energy that could quickly staunch bleeding and repair wounds, achieving an effect similar to a divine art or a transcendent self-healing talent.”

“Incredible!”

A High-ranked Knight’s semi-elementalized body could temporarily suppress a fatal wound, but since the void element rejects the laws of the mortal world, its direct healing effect wasn’t significant. The self-healing ability of a High-ranked Knight was the same as a Bronze-rank senior knight; they could just circulate their Aura for a longer period. While a Knight’s healing ability and vitality far surpassed those of a mortal, they hadn’t reached the level of transcendent healing and still required the aid of a priest’s divine arts. The combat technique scrolls left behind by Sword Saint Draven contained no records of transcendent healing; he likely didn’t possess such an ability either.

Transcendent healing was Victor’s unique Bloodline talent.

“You wanted an example of a Mind Warrior. Here I am.”

With the facts laid bare before them, the core members of the Auguste family were left speechless. The point wasn’t whether Victor had mobilized the void water element or his Life’s Inner Potential; in the Perception of a High-ranked Knight, the fluctuations of inner potential were indistinguishable from the disturbance of the water element anyway. The key was that Victor had combined the bloodline variations for healing, transforming it from a passive, latent ability into an active, manifest one, thereby achieving transcendent healing.

The mind is the sovereign, the bloodline is the law. The power of the mind dominating the variations of the bloodline law—is that not what a Mind Warrior is?

At that moment, the alchemists and their assistants had no heart for their work, furtively observing the scene before them. Tofwen sighed inwardly and nodded. “Let’s talk somewhere else. Glyn, you come too. Bring the ‘Dreamhaze’ and ‘Despair’ potions.”

Victor and the others returned to the main house. Narsen, Trisley, and the others had already left, leaving the living room empty. Everyone gathered around the wooden sofa and took their seats. An attendant brought in a brazier of invigorating incense. The old Wizard took a deep breath from the brazier and leaned back comfortably in his wheelchair. After a moment, he asked with a chuckle, “Your Highness Randell, how did you do it?”

Victor raised a finger and pointed to his own chest. “This spot was once torn open by a Gold rank Gnoll. All my ribs were broken, and its claws nearly reached my heart. It almost cost me my life. Then, it also took a blow from my sword and was injured more severely than I was. We both hid to recuperate. Whoever healed first would seize the initiative. The one who healed slower would have a hard time escaping the other’s pursuit. It was a race of life and death, and the pressure of death combined with a fierce desire for victory spurred me to activate several passive bloodline variations, combining them into the Vital Tenacity Talent, which is skewed toward self-healing.”

“The emergence of the Vital Tenacity Talent validated my theory of the Mind and Bloodline.” Victor lowered his hand and looked around with a smile. “It also showed me a concrete path to cultivating Mind Warriors.”

“Bloodline variations are interconnected. Self-healing relies on a strong Physique and vigorous life force. Physique, in turn, determines stamina and strength, as well as resistance to different environments. And beneath the bloodline law for stamina are further laws for resisting hunger and thirst, recovering stamina, and so on.”

“These bloodline laws constitute the Vital Tenacity Talent, which grants a resilient physique, reinforced bones, damage tolerance, minor healing, superior stamina, resistance to hunger and thirst, stamina recovery, and Elemental Resistance.”

Williams’ eyes lit up, and he asked doubtfully, “Elemental Resistance? Can an ordinary human have Elemental Resistance?”

“Of course.” Victor nodded at him. “In this cold weather, the old sailors on The Golden Fleece go bare-chested and don’t even feel the cold. Their bodies and minds have clearly adapted to the cold environment, giving them a slight resistance to the water element. If they adapted to a hot environment, they would possess resistance to the fire element.”

Sylvia sat with perfect posture and nodded. “A person’s elemental resistance, or rather, elemental affinity, is innate. The principle is simple, but its operation is complex. It touches upon the mysteries of the world’s underlying laws and is extremely valuable.”

Marquess Golan understood Sylvia’s point in an instant but still turned his gaze to the Chief of the Faceless.

The old Wizard’s face was a mask of shock. He muttered to himself, “Yes, the opposite of elemental resistance is elemental affinity. The four great elements evolved all things in the world, including humans themselves. Elemental resistance and affinity determine the variations of almost all bloodline laws… I can’t believe I overlooked the bloodline variations for cold and heat resistance.”

He looked up, his gaze fervent as he pressed, “Your Highness Randell, I can ‘see’ a person’s bloodline variations for cold and heat resistance. They are latent and passive, belonging to the most inconspicuous branches of the bloodline laws. They respond sluggishly to potions and require long-term stimulation. Once the potions are stopped, they quickly revert to their original state. Moreover, the related potions are expensive to produce, requiring some precious medicinal herbs with elemental affinities. I didn’t think cold and heat resistance had any practical value, so I gave up after a period of research. How do you plan to solve the problem of these bloodline variations being insensitive, latent, and passive?”

A proud yet restrained smile touched Victor’s lips. He nodded. “Resistance to cold and heat indeed has little practical value in improving a soldier’s combat power, but they are a small window through which we can glimpse a much greater treasure. For example, those resistant to cold have an affinity for the fire element. They are spiritually active, sharp-minded, hot-tempered, brave, and fearless. They talk a lot, have loud voices, and are fond of cursing…”

Hearing this, the dwarf Glyn looked down at his own thin shirt and the sandals on his feet. He pressed his lips together, secretly tugged at his collar, and hooked his big feet under his chair.

“Those resistant to heat have an affinity for the water element. They are level-headed, mild-tempered, and have ample stamina, strong life force, and long lifespans. They are taciturn and sleep well…”

“From this, we can see that the variations of the bloodline laws are connected to changes in the mind. Conversely, the power of the mind can also influence the variations of the bloodline laws. When the bloodline laws control the mind, one is little more than a beast; but when the mind dominates the bloodline variations, one can transcend the mundane and enter sainthood. In battle, they are like a raging fire, unstoppable. In peace, they are like a land covered in ice and snow, serene and distant.”

“The integration of internal and external, sovereign of the self… This is the state of a Mind Warrior.”

The living room fell into a profound silence as the Highnesses and alchemists of the Auguste family were lost in thought.

A faint smile lingered on Victor’s lips. After a moment, he continued, “Understanding the principles of the mind’s state is one thing; taking hold of one’s own authority is another. A Mind Warrior still needs the most basic of bloodline talents, which I call the Root Talent. A Root Talent can be formed by combining multiple bloodline variations and can be acquired through exercise, meditation, and medicinal stimulation. Take cold resistance, for example. A Mind Warrior is baptized by cold fog, freezing rain, and ice and snow. Then, in the warm spring and hot summer, he needs to visualize a cold environment to awaken the latent bloodline for cold resistance.”

Glyn shouted, “Isn’t that just trickery?” He immediately clapped a hand over his mouth, furtively glancing at Sylvia with a shiver. The earlier lesson had scared him badly.

“Self-suggestion, self-hypnosis, self-affirmation… it’s all a trick. A trick to ‘deceive’ the dormant bloodline laws into activating.”

Victor nodded, leaning back in his chair and crossing his right leg. With a nonchalant expression, he said, “I have improved upon the level-two Source Blood Secret Art to create a level-three version. Practitioners can acquire the Root Talent I described earlier. The Forging Method, Meditation Method, and Visualization Method are all included. All that’s missing are the matching potions.”

Tofwen gave him a deep look, then turned to the wise gnome and instructed, “Glyn, based on the bloodline laws for the Root Talent described by His Highness Randell, draw up a list of the corresponding potions. According to…”

“Ten years, taken twice a month,” Victor added, meeting the Wizard’s questioning gaze.

“Calculate the total value of the corresponding potions based on a ten-year period, taken twice a month.”

Glyn exclaimed, “No need to calculate! It won’t exceed one hundred and eighty Gold Sols a year, and I can make it cost even less… The gold-eyed Highness’s words are very interesting. I want to keep listening and then offer my opinions. Hmm, it would be best if there was a secret art to stop my hair and beard from growing. They’re such a nuisance.”

Tofwen waved a weary hand. “Go on. You won’t be interested in the rest of this conversation.”

The dwarf grumbled as he hopped off his chair, muttering to himself as he ran off to find someone to prepare paper and a pen. Marquess Golan pondered for a moment before saying to Victor:

“The paddle-wheel warships Your Highness designed for the Lake Fies and Red River expansion strategy and the Leapfrog Tactic are no more than five hundred tons. You especially recommended the four-hundred-and-thirty-ton warship for trial production. I’ve looked at the relevant data; that type of warship can only carry eighty soldiers. A river fleet of five ships could only deploy a total of four hundred men. To execute the Leapfrog Tactic, they would have to be exceptionally elite… for instance, Mind Warriors with a Root Talent? Or perhaps even Mind Warriors with life energy and high-level talents?”

Victor smiled silently. He uncrossed his leg and spread his hands. “This is inevitable. Patriarch Tamor risked his own safety to send those Brute Fighters here as a warning that our southern expansion will not be smooth sailing. The elite soldiers of the Gogen Barbarians are all Brute Fighters, three times stronger than humans, yet they are still confined to a corner of the continent. This shows the strength of the other native races on the Southern Continent.”

“Compared to the other races who rely on their physical talents, our military advantages lie in our construction and engineering capabilities, our production systems, and the sheer scale of our civilization. Yet we still need a breakthrough, a way to pull the native races into a field where we excel and force them into an unequal competition. The Red River Leapfrog Tactic can achieve this. Constant attacks, constant harassment, constant raids, constant destruction will force them to abandon their homes and cede their territory, allowing us to build fortifications and open up farmland and pastures at will.”

“For a paddle-wheel ship to travel upstream, its tonnage cannot be too large, which inevitably limits its cargo capacity. The number of soldiers we can deploy is restricted, so they must be sufficiently elite, at least to the standard of a level-one Brute Fighter. Combined with the advantages of superior equipment and the mobility of our ships, we can break through and occupy the Red River basin at the lowest possible cost.”

Victor stood up and began to pace back and forth in the living room, his voice ringing with passion. “Once we occupy the fertile Red River basin, we will be in an invincible position. The next step is to create strategic defensive depth, eliminate potential threats including the Gogen Barbarians, and gradually expand the Empire’s territory. Surrounded by enemies on all sides, mobilizing a large army to attack any single powerful tribe would be unwise; a single misstep could lead to total defeat. Mobile infiltration by elite Rangers is the best tactical option. Ordinary elite soldiers would only slow down a Knight’s pace. Mind Warriors with a Root Talent, however, have the ability to coordinate with their knightly liege, unleashing the Knight’s full potential.”

“Above the passive Root Talent, there is active talent transformation. These are mid-rank Mind Warriors who rely on spiritual power to activate their bloodline talents. Those who possess life energy and a Talent Tree are high-rank Mind Warriors. Please note, Mind Warriors do not pursue perfect balance. They each have their own direction of specialization, allowing for tactical synergy. For example, a Mind Warrior whose Root Talent is a combination of bloodline variations like keen skin sensitivity, pores that can absorb water-soluble air, powerful cardiopulmonary function, internal organs resistant to underwater pressure, and cold resistance would be exceptionally suited for underwater combat. They could effectively support our female knights, ensuring they don’t have to face underwater opponents alone.”

“The types of Mind Warriors include scouts, assassins, sharpshooters, heavy shield-bearers, dual-wielding assault troops, long-spear infantry and cavalry, and so on… Imagine, gentlemen, a Great Knight surrounded by a Personal Guard of mid- to high-rank Mind Warriors, each with their own unique talents. How powerful would his Rangers be?”

Williams, lost in the vision, shook his head then nodded, sighing in admiration. “Extremely powerful. I would also like to have a Personal Guard like that.”

A triumphant smile played on Victor’s lips. Everything was going exactly as he had predicted.

Chapter 594: Reversal

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Victor had laid the foundation for the theory of the Mind and Bloodline, but for an entirely new field of study to go from theory to application could not be accomplished overnight. It would require a long period of experimentation, research, practice, correction, and supplementation. This cycle could take a minimum of a century, or even several hundred years, to establish a mature school of Mind Warriors.

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Tofwen the Wizard could monitor the changes in the Bloodline Law, and the Auguste family controlled a vast amount of resources and channels. They could help Victor complete the design of the Root Talent ahead of schedule and begin research into Life’s Inner Potential.

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A person’s inner potential is immense. A frail mother who can single-handedly overturn a carriage to save her child from its wheels does so by relying on a sudden burst of Life’s Inner Potential. But such situations are extremely rare. The vast majority of people, when faced with sudden danger, are unable to fully mobilize their dormant potential. Even if they manage to activate a portion of it, it is disordered and chaotic, not necessarily able to resolve the life-threatening crisis. For example, if a strong soldier is bitten by a venomous snake or has a major blood vessel ruptured, not struggling is a death sentence, but struggling only makes him die faster. His immense inner potential is of no help, wasted in vain.

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Using Bloodline talent as a model and Life’s Inner Potential as the energy source, the goal was to transform this power from disordered chaos to directed order. This, one could say, was the path to becoming a high-rank Mind Warrior as Victor envisioned it.

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He had factual evidence.

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Tournans had mobilized his inner potential to briefly simulate the effects of the berserk and Bloodlust talents. This was because the First Sacred Warrior did not have a Bloodline talent model, but he could still mobilize his inner potential.

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Establishing a talent model was basically no longer a problem, but mobilizing Life’s Inner Potential was still very difficult for Victor. He didn’t have a single clue. Tournans’s mental power was second to none, having already touched the realm of the Light of the Mind, so mobilizing his inner potential was a simple matter for him. Moreover, the Sacred Warriors’ inner potential was combined with holy power; their path was a dead end for Mind Warriors. If Victor were to cooperate with the Church to research the Mind Bloodline secret art and contribute Tofwen’s Bloodline Law map, the Church would be ecstatic. Victor, aside from gaining the title of Saint, would receive nothing. It would be completely paving the way for the Church.

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The secular lords must never sit on the Church’s side of the fence!

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Tofwen the Wizard had done plenty of things to stimulate subjects’ Life’s Inner Potential with potions. Although he hadn’t specialized in this area of research, he had accumulated an incredible wealth of experience. Furthermore, he had the Orc Brute Fighters as a reference sample. With Victor assisting from the side using the X-3’s unparalleled speculative and deductive functions, the chances of them working closely together to successfully solve the problem of mobilizing inner potential were very high.

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If the Root Talent was the first step for a Mind Warrior, then mobilizing inner potential was the crucial step toward becoming a high-rank Mind Warrior.

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Victor had even come up with a name. The Source Blood Secret Art was the foundation for all Mind Warriors, and the Life’s Inner Potential they mobilized would be called Source Power.

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However, Tofwen the Wizard was a die-hard loyalist to the knightly monarchy. From the bottom of his heart, he disregarded common people and had no interest in an ordinary-path Mind Warrior, wanting only to develop the knight-path of the Mind Bloodline secret art. But the Auguste family knew nothing about the interconnected methods of Stance practice, breathing, visualization, and meditative internal visualization that had evolved from the Golden Toad Mystic Form.

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The Auguste family hoped Victor would design a Forging Method oriented toward the knight’s bloodline, with Tofwen the Wizard monitoring the practitioner’s bloodline changes to ultimately finalize a set of potion formulas and a specific Forging Method. If successful, even after Tofwen died of old age, the Augustes would still retain a secret art for purifying a knight’s bloodline.

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Victor, however, was not willing. As an emerging family, the House of Randell had few noble descendants under Victor’s command. Looking at the entire Centaur Hills, the number of Knight-Nobles and regular nobles was far from comparable to the Auguste family. The audience for a knight-path bloodline secret art was too small, greatly diminishing its value. The most awkward part was that for Victor to design a Forging Method for the knight’s bloodline, it would have to be paired with potions. He would have no way of holding anything back from the Auguste family, or the entire secret art would fail. But with Tofwen monitoring the practitioners’ bloodline changes, he would be able to grade the potions. If Centaur Hills and Aerie Fortress shared the same knight bloodline secret art, but the potion formulas were different, the effects of the secret art would naturally vary.

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Conversely, if Tofwen solved the Source Power problem, The Initiative would be in Victor’s hands. From then on, the sky would be the limit.

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Tofwen had eleven years of life left, and only a few of those would be active ones—just enough time to accomplish one thing. For the Mind Bloodline secret art, Aerie Fortress chose the knight-path, while Victor and Sylvia chose the ordinary-path.

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This was where their disagreement lay.

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Internal disagreements are often altered by external pressures. When Tamor went through great pains to deliver an Orc Brute Fighter, Victor was absolutely ecstatic.

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The Church had made it very clear that Gambis was not strong enough, and the Church’s support in divine arts for the southern expansion was also limited. Coupled with the disparity in natural conditions between the southern and northern continents, this would lead to a power imbalance between the southern and northern Empires.

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Victor’s proposed Lake Fies and Red River development strategy, along with the Leapfrog Tactic, would be complete with the inclusion of ordinary-path Mind Warriors, capable of solving all the problems of short-term expansion and long-term balance. This was because as long as Gambis ensured that the Source Power and potion systems of the Mind Bloodline secret art did not leak out, the Mind Warriors would be the Southern Empire’s unique and powerful military force.

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The imperial blueprint Victor sketched was so captivating that even Regent Williams Auguste was moved.

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…Or so it seemed?

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“To train a Mind Warrior with a Root Talent, the annual potion expense is one hundred eighty Gold Sols. Over ten years, that’s one thousand eight hundred Gold Sols. Add to that the costs of food, training, equipment, and other expenses, as well as failures and unexpected situations… I estimate that training a single initial-rank Mind Warrior would probably cost four thousand five hundred Gold Sols… The cost of training mid- and high-rank Mind Warriors will only be higher.”

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Williams shook his head, leaned back in his chair, and sighed with a wry smile, “One thousand initial-rank Mind Warriors would require four and a half million Gold Sols in training fees alone. Three thousand would be thirteen and a half million. Their annual salary will definitely be much higher than that of an Elite Soldier… Aerie Fortress’s finances really can’t support this.”

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“It’s not like we’re paying thirteen and a half million Gold Sols all at once.” Sylvia raised an elegant eyebrow dismissively, exchanged a smile with Victor, and turned to say, “When Victor first proposed building the water project across the Centaur Hills, the budget was ten million Gold Sols. I also said it was impossible back then, and what about now? The main canal of the water project is almost complete, and the financial situation of the Centaur Hills is improving by the day.”

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Williams was left speechless. Back then, no one was optimistic about the Centaur Hills water project. The great lords of Aerie Fortress and Gambis were all waiting for the York family’s finances to collapse. And the result? They completed the project that no one believed in, leaving everyone dumbfounded. Although a water project and military investment were not the same thing, who could question His Highness Randell’s exceptional talent in managing his family’s affairs?

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“Apprentice knights can take the berserk and Bloodboil Potions,” Marquess Golan said suddenly.

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Victor instantly grew alert, returned to his seat, and quietly listened to what the Gold Knight would say next.

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“Apprentice knights have Aura and Elemental Nodes, but their bodies and minds are not one, not perfectly balanced.” Marquess Golan stared into Victor’s eyes and asked in a deep voice, “Can apprentice knights also construct a Root Talent?”

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“Yes.” Victor nodded, affirming his judgment.

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Golan smiled and nodded, then said to Sylvia, “Aerie Fortress has over one thousand apprentice knights who have undergone bloodline cleansing. The Centaur Hills should have over four hundred apprentice knights as well. The strength of an initial-rank Mind Warrior should be no less than that of an initial-rank apprentice knight, perhaps even stronger. If we train Mind Warriors, what do we do with those initial-rank apprentice knights? They receive a considerable annual salary. In that case, why not train the apprentice knights to become initial-rank Mind Warriors? They would surely be stronger than ordinary Mind Warriors, their chances of success would be higher, we could save a large sum in military expenses, and it would also resolve the competition between Mind Warriors and apprentice knights.”

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Sylvia fell into silent contemplation. Victor frowned, thought for a moment, and said, “But there’s no contradiction… Both ordinary Vassals and apprentice knights can practice the Mind Bloodline secret art. However, apprentice knights possess Aura, so I don’t believe they can mobilize the Source Power of Life. Furthermore, when an apprentice knight takes a Gold Potion to advance to a Bronze-rank Knight, their body and mind become one, perfectly balanced, and the Root Talent will disappear. Investing potions and training in them is clearly unwise. But an ordinary Mind Warrior can advance to a high-rank Mind Warrior as long as they master Source Power.”

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“The key is to find the method to mobilize Source Power.”

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“The Source Blood Secret Art… Source Power? A fine name,” Golan commented, then continued, “Indeed, there is no contradiction. However, the Gold Potion is very precious and cannot satisfy all the Knight-Nobles. Even if it could, we shouldn’t do it. Initial-rank apprentice knights have always been the backbone of the Swift Dragon Knights. Why don’t we replace apprentice knights with Mystic Warriors? Because the cost of training a Mystic Warrior is even higher than training an apprentice knight. We have top-tier cleansing potions, so why don’t we expand the scale of apprentice knights? Because the kingdom cannot afford their annual salaries and… rewards. Aerie Fortress cannot solve this problem, and the Centaur Hills cannot bypass it either.”

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The main difference between training a Mystic Warrior and an apprentice knight was that a Mystic Warrior was supported by his family, while an apprentice knight was supported by his parents.

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Mystic Warriors received martial arts training and ideological indoctrination from their families from a young age. They consumed the best Body-strengthening Potions and even took a secret potion to suppress fertility in exchange for greater physical prowess. Before this, a Mystic Warrior had to undergo body reconstruction at least once. The formulas for the Dragon’s Vein Potion and the Divine Art of the Fire of the Mind were in the hands of the Church, who decided the quota of Mystic Warriors and the price of body reconstruction. The Centaur Hills had no limit on the number of Mystic Warriors it could train, and the price was one Dragon’s Vein Potion, one White crystal, plus six hundred Gold Sols, for a total of one thousand six hundred Gold Sols. However, Victor had to trade materials for ten Dragon’s Vein Potions for one spot. Calculating each set of materials at three hundred Gold Sols, ten sets amounted to three thousand Gold Sols. For the Centaur Hills to train one Mystic Warrior cost at least five thousand Gold Sols, a massive loss.

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Apprentice knights’ living expenses and daily training were all paid for by their parents. Even the cleansing potions provided by Aerie Fortress had to be exchanged for with merit or purchased. Only at the age of twelve, upon successfully awakening their Aura, could they be recruited into the Swift Dragon Knights and receive training from the Royal Family. If they failed, they went back to doing whatever they were doing before. The materials for concocting a cleansing potion were not as valuable as those for a Dragon’s Vein Potion, yet a cleansing potion sold for one thousand to two thousand Gold Sols per vial.

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Training Mystic Warriors versus training apprentice knights was the difference between being exploited and exploiting others.

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It had to be said that Aerie Fortress’s system for recruiting apprentice knights was remarkably effective and low-cost. It would be very difficult for the Auguste family to abandon such a recruitment system.

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However, outstanding young apprentice knights were granted the privilege of undergoing body reconstruction and were trained as elites by the knight order. Since they were spending money anyway, it would be better to adopt the training method for initial-rank Mind Warriors; at least the training costs would be controllable. An apprentice knight with a Root Talent might be stronger than an ordinary Mind Warrior. Most importantly, Aerie Fortress’s recruitment and placement system would be preserved and would not cause major instability.

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Marquess Golan’s subtext was:

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We have a mature recruitment and placement system. Does the Centaur Hills? The number of ordinary Vassals is indeed greater than that of apprentice knights, but if initial-rank Mind Warriors demand the same standard of treatment as apprentice knights, what will you do? Lowering the treatment of apprentice knights will provoke dissatisfaction throughout the entire circle of Nobles; raising the treatment for initial-rank Mind Warriors—can you afford it?

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Victor couldn’t help but scratch his head. He was only one person with one mind; it was impossible to be meticulous about everything. He hadn’t even considered the organization and remuneration for Mind Warriors.

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Sylvia sat with graceful posture, serene and beautiful. A suspicion suddenly arose in Victor’s heart:

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My energy is limited, but Rose Manor should have a contingency plan… Sylvia, why didn’t you mention it to me?

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Marquess Golan saw the question in Victor’s eyes, gave a slight internal sneer, turned to his side, and asked, “Victor, the level one Source Blood Secret Art is for those under fifteen to practice and can double their physical attributes. The level two Source Blood Secret Art can theoretically allow a person’s physical attributes to reach three times the norm. Why theoretically? Are you also uncertain?”

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Victor reined in his restless thoughts, pondered for a moment, and said, “A person’s Spirit, external force, and inner potential exist in a balanced, holistic state. This whole has its limits. Exceeding this limit might break the balance of the three forces, leading to death or irreversible damage. To break through the limit while maintaining the balance of life requires extreme caution. The Master Tofwen monitors a person’s bloodline changes; he can help warriors break through their limits, but it is very difficult for a warrior cultivating on their own to do so. Therefore, most of the Church’s Sacred Warriors stop at three times their physical attributes. I believe this is the limit of the level two Source Blood Secret Art.”

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“As physical attributes approach their limit, improvement becomes more and more difficult. The level two Source Blood Secret Art must be practiced before the age of eight. Whether one can reach the limit of three times their physical attributes also depends on the practitioner’s talent, disposition, and resources.”

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“Resources? For example, as Lord Narsen mentioned, a body reconstruction is necessary?”

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Marquess Golan smiled and nodded. Without waiting for Victor’s response, he added, “A Sacred Warrior undergoes three body reconstructions to reach the ultimate balanced state of life. The level two Source Blood Secret Art requires only one reconstruction to achieve the same effect. That is already remarkable. It is a great achievement.”

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Changing the subject, Golan nodded and said, “Aerie Fortress also emphasizes improving the physical fitness of ordinary soldiers. The Master Tofwen invented the Strength Potion. We consider it one of the greatest achievements in Potion-making because its raw materials are common, and it can increase a Vassal soldier’s physical attributes to twice that of an ordinary person. The Strength Potion, combined with the level one Source Blood Secret Art, can shorten a soldier’s training time, thereby reducing potion consumption and food costs. Combined with the level two Source Blood Secret Art, the Strength Potion can replace the effect of body reconstruction at less than half the cost… Of course, body reconstruction helps a warrior ignite the fire of the mind, a capability the Strength Potion and the level two Source Blood Secret Art do not possess. However, a soldier with three times the physical attributes is no different from a Mystic Warrior. They can keep pace with Knights and contend with a level one Brute Fighter.”

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Marquess Golan stood up, his voice booming,

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“I have a proposal. The Ranger Corps of the royal family and the queen’s family will have high-priced Knights as its core, equipped with Knights, apprentice knights with Root Talents, and Source Blood Secret Art warriors. Aerie Fortress will provide the Centaur Hills with the formula for the Strength Potion, the Master Tofwen will assist His Highness Randell in perfecting the Root Talent for Mind Warriors, and His Highness Randell will work with us to create a secret art for the knight’s bloodline.”

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“Abandon the research on the Source Power of Life?!”

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Victor shot to his feet, his eyes shimmering with a golden light. The air around him howled and surged, and the candlelight flickered precariously in the wake of his roar, seeming as if it would be extinguished in the next second. “Do you have any idea that the Source Power of Life represents a new era? An era belonging to the Gambis Empire! Forgive me, but I cannot accept His Highness Golan’s proposal!”

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Facing the furious Gold-Eyed Earl, Golan did not back down an inch, stating in a deep voice, “The army, the family, and even the entire kingdom must maintain a distinction between superior and inferior, an order of rank. Lower-class people are lower-class people. They cannot be allowed to sit on equal footing with the Knight-Nobles!”

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“Then what does the vassalage system count for?”

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A slender, beautiful hand grasped Victor’s arm. Sylvia shook her head gently, signaling him to pay attention to the old Wizard opposite them.

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Victor’s inner anger was not as great as he had let on. He straightened his collar and took the opportunity to sit back down.

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The anomalous airflow vanished. Marquess Golan retracted his earth element domain and also sat down. The old Wizard, who had been resting with his eyes closed, lifted his drooping eyelids and placed the two potion vials in his hand on the small sofa table.

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One was crimson, brilliant and dazzling; the other was pitch-black, dark and lusterless.

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“This is Dreamhaze.”

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The old Wizard pointed to the crimson potion and said slowly, “Dreamhaze can put a person’s body into a deep sleep, but their Spirit remains active and their self-awareness clear. The intensity of fire element increases by double for the duration of one standard large hourglass. They cannot be woken up midway. Dreamhaze perfectly meets His Highness Randell’s requirements for a spirit meditation potion. Experiments show that it does indeed help the user visualize their own self.”

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“Excellent. I am very satisfied.” Victor’s mood lifted, and he stood up to give Tofwen a respectful bow. The Dreamhaze potion, lasting for an hour and a half, solved the problem of meditation. Its creation removed the obstacle for ordinary people to construct a Root Talent, making initial-rank Mind Warriors a reality.

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Tofwen waved his hand, picked up the black potion, and said, “This is Despair. Its effect is similar to Dreamhaze, but it subjects a person’s mind to the torment of despair and pain. Our original intention in developing the Despair potion was to simulate the mental state of a Knight during the Trial of Life and Death—to struggle out of despair and be reborn, or fail to emerge and have one’s soul dissipate. However, the effects of Despair are too potent. Of eighty-seven test subjects, only one succeeded. He was a Sasan spy captured by Aerie Fortress, an ordinary person with a noble bloodline. His knight’s bloodline was so weak as to be negligible; even I wouldn’t waste my energy on him. But his willpower was exceptionally tough. He withstood the torment of Despair, his spiritual power grew, his weak knight’s bloodline was strengthened, and after taking just one vial of a cleansing potion, he successfully awakened his Aura and became an apprentice knight.”

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“Hehe, what a delightful surprise.” The old Wizard was all smiles, stroking the crystal vial containing the Despair potion as if the dozens of lives lost were of no consequence.

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Sylvia’s expression flickered, her sapphire eyes fixed on the potion vial in Tofwen’s hand.

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Placing the vial on the coffee table, Tofwen leaned back in his wheelchair, nodded with satisfaction, and praised, “Speaking of which, I must thank His Highness Randell for providing the hallucinogenic potion formula. It helped us open the door to mind-type potions, a new field in Potion-making with countless treasures waiting to be discovered. Dreamhaze and Despair are secret potions of the mind.”

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“We all know the significance of the Despair potion. It can give regular nobles with weak bloodlines a chance to become Knights. But the effects of Despair are too terrifying. We have tried every means but cannot awaken the slumbering test subjects, only able to watch helplessly as they take their last breath. The Despair potion can be improved, and it must be improved, but we cannot use innocent nobles for the tests.”

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Tofwen shook his head and looked at Sylvia with an earnest gaze. “Your esteemed Highness, your spiritual power might be able to awaken the noble test subjects from their despair, sparing them from a terrible fate and allowing us to refine a gentler Despair potion… The sun dispels the darkness before the dawn; it represents the manifestation of the Elemental Sea of fire. The improved potion shall be named ‘Dawn,’ so that future generations will remember the grace of the Spirit Knight.”

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“It would be my honor,” Sylvia said with a smile and a nod.

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Tofwen’s gaze shifted to Victor. “His Highness Randell, for nobles with weak bloodlines, relying on the Dawn potion alone is not enough. The way Knights temper their offspring’s martial skills and willpower helps them awaken their knight’s bloodline, and this also falls within the theoretical scope of the Mind and Bloodline. We need Your Highness’s extraordinary wisdom to design more brilliant Forging and visualization methods for the knight’s bloodline. The Dawn potion, combined with your secret art, will become the Gambis Empire’s most precious knight bloodline legacy, jointly held by the royal family and the queen’s family.”

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“I would be glad to be of service,” Victor said, his expression cool. “But I hope the Master Tofwen will help me study the mysteries of the Source Power of Life.”

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Tofwen gave a wry smile. “If this is an exchange, I’m afraid I can’t meet Your Highness’s conditions. Using Wizardry to probe bloodline changes is a burden on me. My vigor isn’t enough to handle two different Research Directions…” He took a breath and continued, “Regardless of whether I research the knight-path or the ordinary-path of the Mind Bloodline secret art, the ultimate goal is to break free from the limitations of Wizardry and turn them into a stable legacy. If the Source Power of Life can be mobilized, it will eventually become a reality. Your Highness has a long time to realize your vision. My adopted son, Glyn, can help Your Highness. I provided the experimental data, and he laid the theoretical foundation for Mental Potion-making. Both Dreamhaze and Despair were concocted by him.”

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“Glyn and Lord Narsen have had in-depth discussions about initial-, mid-, and high-rank Mind Warriors. He believes that certain mental potions can enable mid-rank Mind Warriors to perform talent transformations beyond their Root Talent, turning passive talents into active ones, such as berserk, Bloodlust, body toughness, night vision, underwater breathing, and so on. This can conserve the spiritual power of Mind Warriors, preventing them from exhausting their vigor and falling into a coma.”

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“There are many types of consumable mental potions, but fortunately, we do not lack ordinary people as test subjects. These potions should be able to fill out the Potion-making system for Mind Warriors… As for the Source Power of Life,呵呵, I actually think it’s optional.” Tofwen’s smile was kindly, yet it was laced with an indifference toward mortals.

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Victor was dumbfounded, muttering, “Potion-fueled Mind Warriors… what kind of future could they have?”

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“It seems we are finding it difficult to reach a consensus… Very well, Sylvia. Her Majesty, please help me make a decision.”

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Tofwen the Wizard sighed and gestured to Williams. The Regent pushed the two potion vials in front of Sylvia.

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“Will you choose the warrior’s Dreamhaze… or the knight’s Despair?”

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The old Wizard stared intently into Sylvia’s deep, sky-like blue eyes. Everyone was watching her. The atmosphere was nearly frozen.

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Sylvia rested her cheek on her hand, gazing in a trance at the two vastly different potions. After a moment, she slowly turned her exquisitely beautiful face, gave Victor a sweet smile, and said in a charming voice, “My dear, I’m tired… Let’s go and rest.”

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Victor stared blankly at Sylvia’s flawless face, his heart sinking to the very bottom.

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Chapter 595: Knights to the Left, Warriors to the Right

The next morning, in His Highness Randell’s temporary residence.

Victor sat on the edge of the bed, lost in quiet contemplation.

“Are you still angry?”

Sylvia walked to the bedside, leaned over, and hugged Victor’s head, her eyes filled with a tender yet sly smile.

“Not angry, exactly. Just a little disappointed.” Victor pushed Sylvia’s slender hands away, his expression languid.

The experience of love between Extraordinaries was different from that of mortals. Physical beauty couldn’t sway an Extraordinary’s will. Victor’s sight could perceive the most minute flaws on Lilia’s skin, yet his mind could conjure her most beautiful form. Whether something was beautiful or not depended entirely on the will of the Extraordinary. This was likely why King Ryan married a regular noblewoman, and why Katerina had children with Fatty York. But Sylvia was different. To Victor, she was breathtakingly beautiful from every angle, near or far. Sylvia felt the same way about him. Only with each other could they experience the feeling of being husband and wife, just like mortals.

Mortal couples bickered over trivial matters of daily life; Victor and Sylvia bickered over the future of the Gambis Empire.

It was just that, but the anger had yet to fade.

Victor and Sylvia’s political interests were perfectly aligned. But on the issue of determining the future of the Gambis Kingdom, Sylvia had changed her mind at the last minute, leaving Victor both confused and frustrated. It was as if his intelligent wife had inexplicably lost her senses, suddenly going back on something they had already agreed upon, which made him, the husband, lose face and put him in an awkward position in front of others.

“Whether the Mind Bloodline secret art follows the Knight path or the common path, both serve the interests of the Gambis Empire. But for the royal family and the Queen’s family, the outcomes are completely different. The Auguste family’s resources and heritage are deeper than the York family’s, their scale is much larger, and their noble population is several times that of the York family. Given the same secret art legacy, they wouldn’t be on the same starting line. The longer the time, the greater the gap. I told you long ago not to compete with the Augustes in their area of expertise. We must pull them into an entirely new field to ensure a balance between the Empire’s royal family and the Queen’s family. The common path for the secret art legacy is that new field.”

Victor was exasperated, lecturing her earnestly, and finished with a petulant remark.

“If you, their Guardian, don’t care about the York family’s interests, then I, as a Guardian, care even less!”

“Yes, yes.” Sylvia nodded repeatedly, pouting slightly as she said indignantly, “That Master Tofwen is the worst. He insisted I make a choice, trying to ruin our marriage… We won’t fall for his trick. Darling, you decide whether it’s the Knight path or the common path. I’ll listen to whatever you say.”

If you really listened to me, you wouldn’t have tried to persuade me in private… Victor complained internally. He shook his head and smiled wryly. “I finally understand why Tofwen knelt to you. He was kneeling to a Spirit Knight. The spiritual leader of the Knights naturally has to consider the Knights’ interests.”

With a smile playing on her lips, Sylvia pulled Victor up and said with delight, “That Sasan spy caught by Aerie Fortress was definitely over eighteen. For the Despair Potion to reawaken his knight’s bloodline is nothing short of a miracle! Darling, do you know what this means?”

No wonder Sylvia was so excited. Nobles who couldn’t awaken their Aura before eighteen were considered hopeless. One step to nobility, one step to mediocrity. All young Nobles awaited the verdict of fate. Those who succeeded were enveloped in happiness and pride, while the failures suffered from pain and low self-esteem. This was an obsession and resentment passed down through generations of Nobles. Neither the little Baron nor Victor had any personal experience with such intense emotions, so naturally, they couldn’t feel the immense satisfaction that the Despair Potion brought to Sylvia, Goron, and Williams.

Victor nodded and said calmly, “Commoners mature at fifteen, while Nobles generally mature at eighteen. During the developmental stages, a person’s bloodline variation is active. Once development is complete, the bloodline solidifies, and the skeleton is set, making it nearly impossible for a young noble to awaken their Aura. One principle of the Mind Bloodline secret art is to reactivate the solidified Bloodline Law. The Church’s body reconstruction and the Dragon’s Vein Potion provide factual support for this principle. So it’s not surprising that the Despair Potion can reawaken the knight’s bloodline in an adult noble.”

“However, the Despair Potion directly extinguishes a person’s Soul Fire, which shows how extreme and evil it is. Setting aside for a moment whether ‘Despair’ can be improved into ‘Dawn’… risk and opportunity coexist. A potion’s harm is proportional to its efficacy. A gentle and safe ‘Dawn’ will certainly not have a very high success rate in awakening a knight’s bloodline—perhaps ten percent, perhaps one percent, or even less than one percent… Darling, the result might be a huge disappointment for you.”

Victor spread his arms to let Sylvia straighten his shirt, paused, and said teasingly, “They say Knights are the darlings of the Elemental Sea, and it’s true. The pan-consciousness of the world’s origin only wants to keep its darlings at home. How could it let Knights run wild all over the world?”

“That’s for Extraordinary Knights… You can put your arms down now.” After tidying Victor’s collar, Sylvia tilted her head and smiled faintly. “Right now, Bronze Knights are the mainstream. That’s why we need Your Highness Randell to design a complete knight’s bloodline secret art to increase the success rate… I’ll be very satisfied with thirty percent.”

Victor smiled and said, “Darling, the Auguste family possesses more than just a simple map of the human bloodline. Tofwen’s Wizardry has also analyzed the medicinal properties of countless plants and animals. That is an unimaginable fortune… The hallucinogenic potion formula was originally a byproduct of the process to detoxify Dark Astringent Fruit. I gave it to the Potion-making masters at Rose Manor, and what was the result? They produced nothing. When Aerie Fortress got the formula, they quickly pioneered Mental Potion-making.”

“Whether it’s the Strength Potion or the Dawn Potion, I’m sure Aerie Fortress will hold something back from us. Their Potion-making masters are capable of it.”

“You understand the stakes.” Victor gazed into Sylvia’s eyes and said flatly, “I was busy designing the Source Blood Secret Art and had no vigor to handle the recruitment, settlement, and reward-and-punishment system for the Mind Warriors. Rose Manor must have had a plan for issues that even Aerie Fortress could foresee. But why didn’t you talk to me about it? Because, like Goron, you were more eager for the Knight-path bloodline secret art, believing the common-path legacy was just an alternative, a supplement, not worthy of too much attention.”

Sylvia’s eyes narrowed as she said gleefully, “Yes, I favor the Knight-path legacy. I once thought the Augustes wouldn’t make much progress in their research of the Knight-path bloodline secret art. I never expected them to find another way, starting with regular Nobles. Though it might create a large number of apprentice knights with refined bloodlines, it’s still better than the Knight-path legacy failing completely.”

Victor said, displeased, “You had a different opinion but kept it from me. That’s what makes me unhappy.”

“…Wait.” A thought struck Victor, and he frowned. “Did you just say that you initially thought the research on the Knight-path bloodline secret art wouldn’t succeed?”

Sylvia chuckled coquettishly. “I mentioned it to you before, you haven’t forgotten, have you?”

She had once said frankly that a Knight’s four major elemental attributes were perfectly balanced, and circulating their Aura controlled their body and mind. It was meaningless for a Knight to visualize their own destruction, as their Aura would immediately circulate on its own, quickly shaking off any negative mental states. Nor could Knights visualize the destruction of the Elemental Sea. She was not optimistic about the Knight-path Mind Bloodline secret art.

“Then what about the recruitment, settlement, and reward-and-punishment system for the Mind Warriors?” Victor asked tentatively, his eyes full of confusion.

Sylvia nodded. “Rose Manor’s team of advisors studied it. They were very dissatisfied with the plan they designed, and it didn’t satisfy me either. The issue was temporarily shelved. The family’s legacy scholars suggested that we ask Your Highness Randell to solve this difficult problem himself when you have the time.”

Victor was greatly surprised and pressed, “Why is that? Is solving the organizational structure for the Mind Warriors so difficult?”

Sylvia shot him a sideways glance, her red lips slightly parted. “Tournans’s wife is Charlottia of the Benedict family.”

“Yes, I know that. Charlottia is now the vice-commander of the Radiant Knights, and her father died at the hands of the Centaur Great Khan. Tournans and the Radiant Knights killed the Legendary Centaur, avenging her father’s death… What does this have to do with the organizational structure of the Mind Warriors?” Victor asked, completely baffled.

“Charlottia is a high-ranking female knight from a Paladin family. Possessing the Mark of Light, she’s certain to be promoted to a Highness,” Sylvia continued to hint.

Victor calmed himself and considered it carefully, but he still couldn’t see the potential connection between Tournans’s wife and the Mind Warriors. He mused, “Tournans is the Church’s First Sacred Warrior, a legendary powerhouse of humanity. He’s a worthy match for a Gold-rank female knight of the Benedict family.”

Sylvia’s eyes curved into crescents. She covered her mouth and asked with a laugh, “My love, where has your wisdom gone? Actually, you’re especially cute when you look so silly… Alright, I’ll stop teasing you.”

Her expression turned serious as she asked in earnest:

“My love, you are not a Knight, but you possess a noble Gold Bloodline, the source of the Gale Knights. The Nobles, Knights, and High-ranked Knights hail you as their king… What will you use to rule the Mind Warriors?”

Victor felt as if he had been struck by lightning. All sorts of thoughts swirled in his head, a chaotic mess.

Sylvia sighed and said with a smile, “That’s right. You designed the tenant system, from which the noble’s virtual fief system was derived. But when you reward Mind Warriors for their merits—giving them land, wealth, status, and power—what more can you give them? Once they have all that, what else will they want?”

“They will only want to marry noblewomen, yearning for their children to possess a knight’s bloodline. Will a regular noblewoman satisfy a high-rank Mind Warrior? Even if Tournans lost his divine favor, with the power of his mind, he would still be a Legendary-rank Ferocious warrior. High-rank Mind Warriors with Source Power and a Talent Tree are Extraordinary beings on par with senior knights, even if they haven’t ignited the fire of the mind. If Tournans can marry a Gold-rank female knight, why can’t they marry a female knight? You can reject a Silver-rank Mind Warrior who wants to marry a silver female knight. But can you reject a Gold-rank or Legendary-rank Mind Warrior who wants to marry a high-ranking female knight? Do you even have high-ranking female knights for them to form marriage alliances with?”

“Darling, let me tell you what will happen if Mind Warriors master both Source Power and the Talent Tree.”

“High-rank Mind Warriors will distinguish themselves in the Southern Expansion War, achieving great deeds. But if they want to become the new nobility of the Gambis Empire, they must either form their own political force to oppose the Knight-Nobles or find every possible way to integrate into the noble circle. His Highness Randell, the Guardian and Uncrowned King of Gambis, would never want to see internal strife between Knights and warriors during the Empire’s founding phase. Without His Highness Randell’s support and instigation, the Mind Warriors could never defeat the Knight-Nobles. The result of confrontation would still be integration.”

“How many female knights does His Highness Randell, who holds the authority of the York family, have to offer in marriage alliances with high-rank Mind Warriors? And how many high-ranking female knights can the York family offer to win over the top-tier Mind Warriors? The York family cannot satisfy them. His Highness Randell cannot satisfy them. Those Silver-rank, Gold-rank, and Legendary-rank Mind Warriors will flock to the other great families. They will be grateful to His Highness Randell for creating them, but they will also oppose him for the sake of their new family’s interests.”

“High-rank Mind Warriors are not bound by the principle of protecting the knight’s bloodline. They are not High-ranked Knights; they share no unspoken understanding not to harm one another. They are belligerent by nature. When they encounter a problem they can’t solve, they will resort to force. This new political force will bring great trouble to Your Highness Randell. The Guardian of the Gambis Empire will have to face all sorts of rebellions, schisms, and independence movements—things rarely seen before.”

“The internal turmoil brought by the high-rank Mind Warriors could plague Your Highness Randell for your entire long life. And once the Empire’s Guardians have healed its wounds and integrated the Mind Warriors into the imperial political structure, a new problem will arise.”

“Your Highness Randell’s descendants will discover that the Empire has fewer and fewer Great Knights and Knights, but more and more apprentice knights and Mind Warriors. This is because when one of a noble’s parents is a Mind Warrior, the knight’s bloodline is weakened, and their children can at best become apprentice knights. The Empire’s Guardians will be helpless, because it was their ancestor, His Highness Randell, who brought the Mind Warriors into the noble circle. They can only watch helplessly as the Bronze Age ends… And what comes after? The Refined Iron Age? Refined iron is more precious than bronze. I say we might as well call it the Wood Age, or the Stone Age.”

Sylvia gave a scornful smile, shook her head, and looked at the dumbstruck Victor with pity. She sighed heavily. “The Church will be the happiest. Their system of divine arts is compatible with Knights, and it’s compatible with Mind Warriors. But Mind Warriors are closer to the Church’s clergy than Knights are.”

The vacant look in his eyes sharpened. Victor said bitterly, “The Seven Great Paladin Families… Charlottia Benedict married Tournans.”

“The Paladin families are blessed by the Mark of Light. Their knight’s bloodline won’t be weakened by mortals, so their offspring can form marriage alliances with the top-tier Mind Warriors. Meanwhile, the great secular lords will forbid their children of noble blood from marrying Mind Warriors. In the eyes of the Mind Warriors, the secular knights look down on them, and only the Paladin families are worthy of respect. One can imagine what the human kingdoms will become…”

Sylvia’s willow-like brows furrowed. She shook her head and asked, “Your Highness Randell, the Knight-Nobles hail you as their king, while the Mind Warriors see you as an obstacle to their upward climb. You sit on the throne of the secular knights and offer up the Talent Tree and Source Power, helping the first Pope and the ancestors of the Paladins achieve a dream that they and their descendants never could… My love, don’t you find that ironic?”

Victor was speechless. After a long while, he let out a long breath and gave a wry, bitter smile. “A warrior’s ‘Dreamhaze’ is a knight’s ‘Despair’… That name really is fitting…” He looked up, took Sylvia’s hand, and said sincerely, “Sylvia, I’m so sorry. I was the one who took the wrong side.”

“It’s good that you understand now.” Sylvia gave a beautiful smile, and the light in the entire bedroom seemed to brighten.

Victor hung his head, his complaint masking his shame. “Why didn’t you remind me sooner?”

“You’re so smart, why didn’t you think of it? If you had even actively considered the organizational structure for the Mind Warriors, you would have seen the serious consequences of Source Power. But why didn’t you think about the organizational problem?” Sylvia pouted her red lips, a look of grievance on her face.

Victor’s expression shifted, and he finally scratched his head. “I… I didn’t have time. I was captivated by the Mind Bloodline secret art…”

“The Mind Bloodline secret art fascinates my love. It’s like your child. You love her, cherish her, and hope to watch her be born, grow, and become strong… You rejoice with every success and mope with every failure. Your face glows with excitement when you talk to me about your ideas for Source Power; you pick yourself up again after every setback. All of this fascinates me just as much.”

Sylvia cupped Victor’s cheeks and said with deep affection, “My love, my king, I have never wanted to stand in your way. A husband who unquestioningly obeys my commands is not the husband I want. I have watched you draw closer to me, step by step, of your own volition and not because you were driven. You let me experience the taste of pursuing my beloved and being pursued by him. I admire your talent and love your independent soul. I do not wish to hinder you, only to walk by your side, hand in hand. It was so in the past, it is so now, and it will be so in the future.”

Victor was deeply moved. He embraced her and ambled toward the window, smiling as they walked. “Thank you. Thank you for not reminding me too soon.”

“The theory of the Mind and Bloodline is a thorough analysis of the world’s laws, destined to be a great discovery. Victor, I am proud of you. The Mind Warriors should not be smothered in the cradle.” Sylvia brushed a strand of hair from her ear and said with a smile, “Just as Tofwen said, the theory of the Mind and Bloodline has been verified, and the life-force of Source Power is destined to appear. You have a long time to uncover the mysteries of this life-force, and we also have enough time to solve the problems it brings.”

The two looked at each other and smiled, a warm and unspoken understanding blossoming between them.

Victor pulled away the old sheepskin covering the window and, with his arm around Sylvia’s shoulder, gazed at the sky outside. A thick layer of clouds tried to obscure the sun but was instead edged with a layer of gold by its light.

“When we encounter a problem, we’ll solve it. I’ll always find a way,” he said with a nod.

Chapter 596: A Powerful Breakthrough After Long Accumulation

“When you are about to unleash a new power, are you prepared to control it?”

Every trade has its own specialization. If one is not in a position, one should not meddle in its affairs. Scientists do not need to consider this problem, nor do they have the energy or ability to worry about matters outside of academia. They handle the killing, but not the burial. Therefore, politicians must carefully measure the impact and changes new technologies, new sciences, and emerging classes bring to society. They must control the direction and progress of scientific research, and must never allow fanatical scientists to bring down the entire civilization.

Victor was both a great scholar and a great noble. The resources he could mobilize were something professional scholars dared not even dream of, and almost no one could restrict his research. Fortunately, he was also a great noble, naturally standing on the side of the ruling class. The kingdom’s Guardian negotiation system had corrected his skewed perspective.

Sylvia had reminded him that even if he was the creator and founder of the Mind Bloodline secret art, the Mind Warrior class, having mastered Source Power, would inevitably lean toward the Church. They would use the power of the clergy to fight against the Knight-Nobles for secular power. The Guardians who wielded secular royal power were an obstacle the Mind Warrior class had to overcome. If they couldn’t get over it, they would jump up and fight them—with the Church backing them anyway.

Victor realized the gravity of the problem and lost all his vigor. If he had discovered the potential pressure Mind Warriors could exert on the rule of secular lords earlier, the research into the Mind Bloodline secret art might have stalled. Without the enthusiasm for research, the complete pathway to creating Mind Warriors that existed today would not have come to be.

This was something to be thankful for. Victor was frustrated because he had failed to use this brand-new field of the Mind Bloodline secret art to lead the Centaur Hills in a leapfrogging maneuver. In the face of the overall interests of the Knight-Noble class, Sylvia had chosen to concede to the Auguste royal family.

Of course, the resources and heritage of the Auguste family were plain to see. Victor’s desire to latch onto Aerie Fortress and suck its blood was a bit arrogant in itself.

The Augustes were no fools. It was neither shameful nor fatal for Victor to lose to them.

However, Victor still had The Golden Company, tens of thousands of mountain folk hunters, and the Sea Access Plan. These hidden advantages were enough to offset the lead the Gambis royal family had in the legacy of Knight-path secret arts.

Besides, the power struggle between the royal family and the Queen’s family was ultimately a benign internal competition. They chased each other, promoted each other, and jointly drove the development of the Gambis Empire.

The problem still had to be solved. If Victor wanted to protect his throne, he had to make the Mind Warriors bow to secular royal power. He could not, under any circumstances, allow them to be in cahoots with the clergy and the Paladins.

But how could that be easy?

Whether the Mind Warrior class was loyal to the royal Knightly power or to their own interests was a matter of social ideology. A social ideology could not be swayed by the whims of a certain king. It had its own inevitable course of development; or rather, a social ideology must serve the needs of survival, procreation, and thought. Ideologies that violated the basic laws of social development had no soil to survive in and would not last long.

Technological progress was unstoppable and drove changes in social ideology. But it stemmed from the human instinct for thought, aiming to open up living space for humanity, defeat all kinds of competitors, and transform the world into a “divine kingdom” suitable for humans.

If the technological progress born of thought was not for this purpose, then what was it for? Self-destruction? There were no wronged souls on the path of evolution. Once they were all dead, who would care?

The technological development of Earth leaned toward external objects. The essence of human life was the same for all, which created a kind of objective fairness. Based on this, the people of Earth constructed their social ideology. The technological development of this other world focused on humanity’s own extraordinary power. Potion-making, architecture, Forging, secret martial arts, and divine arts research all revolved around the extraordinary. The ideology of the human kingdoms was completely different from that of Earth. People had no concept of nationality, and their sense of country was weak; the sense of family consciousness reigned supreme. To give a simple example, if a Mind Warrior who had gathered great power within himself was wronged by the kingdom, he could just up and leave. He could even survive in the wilderness. Could a person from Earth try that?

Therefore, people from Earth had a very strong sense of ethnicity and nationhood, and followed moral and legal codes of conduct. The people of this other world did not. The ideology of the human kingdoms was built on the principle of extraordinary attraction. A top-tier Mind Warrior was fully capable of attracting a large group of followers, founding a family, or even a kingdom.

Earth’s social systems and scientific technologies could not be directly copied to the human kingdoms of this other world; they could only serve as references and supplements. Victor’s Centralized Allotted Land System was still centered on the principle of extraordinary attraction. It could not fundamentally satisfy the Mind Warrior group’s craving for extraordinary power.

The knight’s bloodline, as a stable form of extraordinary power, held a strong attraction for Mind Warriors. Great strength, beautiful features, a healthy body, a long lifespan, and a life without aging—all these fully interpreted the meaning of “noble.”

Who wouldn’t want to be noble? If I wasn’t born noble, surely my sons and daughters can be? I must pursue a noble bloodline for them.

After careful consideration, Victor believed that there was no structural conflict between the Mind Warrior group and the Knight-Noble class. The Bronze Age of the Knights would not come to an end with the rise of the Mind Warriors. This was because Knights were stronger than Mind Warriors. Alchemical Soldiers possessed combat intuition and the Active Adaptation talent. Their Physique, strength, Perception, and agility were all close to the level of a senior knight, yet if one faced an initial-rank female knight who had ignited her fire of the mind, the odds of victory were still not high. Using the Alchemical Soldier as a benchmark, a Mind Warrior who had not ignited their fire of the mind could not contend with a Knight.

The Mind Warrior group only posed a threat to secular knights.

The Church not only had divine arts and the largest number of believers, but also ancient knight’s bloodlines. For the Paladin families, Mind Warriors—with their low entry barrier, large numbers, and strong faith—were a perfect class of secular vassals. By supporting the Mind Warriors, they could expand their influence over secular political power, so they would certainly do so.

The very thought of the Mind Warriors he had painstakingly created being snatched away by the Paladin families was distressing to Victor.

If the Church did not have the Paladin families, Mind Warriors would submit to the rule of the Knight-Nobles. But as long as the Paladin families existed, no system the lords established could solve the most fundamental problem—the Church could give the Mind Warriors what they wanted, while the secular lords could not.

Thinking back, Victor realized that Aerie Fortress’s proposal was the most reasonable solution. The Knight-path of the Mind Bloodline secret art not only increased the number of the noble population, but most importantly, it possessed a very strong centripetal force. The Knight-Nobles would rally tightly around the great lords who possessed the legacy of the Knight Bloodline secret art.

Gambis would see a large number of apprentice knight-nobles. They would cultivate the Mind Bloodline secret art and construct a Root Talent. They could be called Mind Secret Art Knights, or Mystic Knights for short.

Mystic Knights possessed the blood of Knight-Nobles and naturally belonged to the noble faction. Their strength was greater than that of apprentice knights and ordinary Mind Warriors, but their path of advancement was already limited, so they could not possibly shake the political structure of the Gambis Empire. When a Mystic Knight accumulated achievements and won allotted land, wealth, a noble title, and an official position, he might want to go a step further and marry a female knight. At this point, his liege lord would bestow upon him the Gold Potion, first helping him advance to a full knight, and then allowing him to form a knightly family with his wife. Then, they could have children.

The Gold Potion was a gift of the liege lord’s grace, not an institutionalized reward. The Mystic Knight would only feel more grateful for his liege lord’s favor and repay it with loyalty. Once this culture took hold in the Gambis Empire, the power of the Knight-Nobles would become incredibly strong, and they would be the staunchest Partisans of the royal family and the Queen’s family.

Gambis would become the most desirable human kingdom for regular nobles with weaker bloodlines. The Auguste royal family and the York Queen’s family would thus possess extremely formidable political capital, perhaps even enough to turn the tables and cultivate a force within the Church to rival the Radiant Knights.

In contrast, the Mind Warriors would rely on the secret mind potions provided by the royal family and the Queen’s family. Lacking their own Source Power and Talent Tree, they would have no value for the clergy to exploit and could only remain docile within the Centralized Allotted Land System. Only after the Gambis Empire successfully curbed the power and ambition of the Paladin families could the Source Power and Talent Tree for Mind Warriors be popularized. Without the instigation and support of the clergy, high-rank Mind Warriors would face a powerful and united Knight-Noble class. They would not be able to make any significant waves.

On the other hand, the vast noble class of the Gambis Empire would be able to accommodate the top-tier Mind Warrior experts. The Knight Bloodline secret art could help them strengthen the knight’s bloodline of their offspring with Knight spouses, thereby integrating them into the noble circles of the Gambis Empire.

At this thought, Victor was suddenly enlightened. If the Gambis Empire could reach such a state, it would align with his primary goal—to seek the power of the Lord of Radiance.

The difference between fostering Mystic Knights first and creating Mind Warriors first was not small at all.

Of course, this did not mean that research on the common path of the Mind Bloodline secret art would be halted. Strictly speaking, only the bloodline of an ordinary person could evolve into a diverse variety of Talent Trees, fully realizing the entire value of the Mind Bloodline secret art. When it came to unknown disasters, neither Auguste nor Sylvia shared Victor’s sense of urgency. He insisted that the common path research not only shouldn’t stop but should be accelerated. However, the common path secret art could be kept as a technological reserve for now. The moment the Empire needed the strength of Mind Warriors, it could be brought out immediately.

If the old rivals of the ancient Alchemists truly invaded the human kingdoms, the political stability of Gambis and the interests of the Knight-Nobles would all become unimportant. Victor would have to unite all the forces he could, bring out all his strength, and defeat the invader from the other races before talking about anything else!

Victor proposed two conditions to Auguste:

First, Tofwen the Master would cooperate with him to construct a basic Root Talent for the common path. Afterward, the dwarf Glyn would lead a group of court Alchemists to specialize in the research of Mental Potion-making for the common path.

Second, the royal family and the Queen’s family would each cultivate two thousand low-rank Mind Warriors according to the basic Root Talent.

In exchange, Victor agreed to temporarily abandon his research into the life-force of Source Power and prioritize designing the Forging Method for the Knight-path bloodline secret art.

Tofwen readily agreed to the first condition. The experimental potions and test subjects for constructing the Root Talent were all readily available. They would certainly have to test it on ordinary warriors first to determine the Root Talent for Mystic Knights.

The second condition, however, was up for discussion. Victor’s intention was for Gambis to maintain a force of four thousand initial-rank Mind Warriors. They would be both the seeds of the Mind Warrior class and the test subjects for talent transformation and secret mind potions. The royal family and the Queen’s family could not only accumulate experience in Talent Trees and Mental Potion-making but, if necessary, these four thousand mid-rank and initial-rank Mind Warriors could immediately form a powerful armed force.

The zealous dwarf Alchemist Glyn and Victor hit it off instantly. He desperately urged Williams to agree to His Highness of the Gold Eyes’ conditions. Unfortunately, his words carried no weight. The Regent had to consider all aspects and weigh the gains and losses.

Aerie Fortress believed that the number of initial-rank Mind Warriors was too large. The scale and cost of the experiment would become difficult to control. Not only would the risk of leaks greatly increase, but the experimental funds would also be a huge burden on the family’s finances. The practical value of an initial-rank Mind Warrior was still an unknown. Everyone should first use the limited funds on the Mystic Knights. After seeing the effectiveness of the Root Talent and determining the direction of talent transformation, they could then gradually expand the number of Mind Warriors. Moreover, the Source Blood Secret Art and the Strength Potion were already mature technologies. The cost of training Source Blood Secret Art soldiers was not high and could be widespread. It was obvious that Mystic Warriors, who possessed more than double the physical qualities of an ordinary person and could coordinate with Knights in battle, were the true mainstay of the Ranger Corps.

Williams proposed that the number of Mind Warrior test subjects be maintained at one hundred per family.

Victor, of course, could not agree. It was precisely because the common path had such a wide variety of Talent Trees that it required a massive investment of resources in the early stages, which was why he wanted to drag the Auguste family into it. How could he let Williams get away with his single-minded focus on cutting research costs for the common path?

The two sides engaged in a fierce debate over this issue. From beginning to end, Williams stuck to one line:

“No money. No money. We really have no money!”

A scale of two thousand Mind Warrior test subjects was indeed too many. Not only could Aerie Fortress not afford it, but the Centaur Hills could afford it even less. But wasn’t Victor just waiting to haggle with Aerie Fortress?

Ultimately, the two sides reached a consensus: each family would maintain two hundred common path test subjects. Aerie Fortress would provide the House of Randell with the full set of potions for one thousand Mind Warriors at eighty percent of the market price and would also provide support in Mental Potion-making.

The subtext was: how many initial-rank Mind Warriors you intend to train is your own business. We can provide people, effort, and medicinal herbs, and the experimental results will be shared, but you have to pay for it yourself.

This meant that the leadership of the common path secret mind art research was transferred to the hands of the House of Randell. The House of Randell could train fifty initial-rank Mind Warriors, or one thousand, or even more. The scale and cost of the experiment were all up to Victor. The House of Randell could make use of Aerie Fortress’s Alchemists to fill the gap in their Mental Potion-making knowledge; Aerie Fortress, in turn, could participate in the experiment to get a glimpse of the mysteries of the Mind Bloodline Forging Method, as well as the talent transformation and Talent Tree of the Mind Warriors.

It was a result that pleased everyone, and Victor was satisfied with it.

On the day the cooperation agreement was finalized, the four Guardians and the Regent left the farmstead and returned to the Royal Capital of Brinol. Tofwen moved the proving ground from the farmstead to a royal holiday manor near Lake Basse.

Victor and Sylvia stayed in the Royal Capital for over half a month. After seeing off Patriarch Tamor, they went to Lake Basse again under the pretext of supervising the navy’s training and moved into the royal holiday manor.

Before this, the navy and craftsmen from the Centaur Hills, under Sylvia’s orders, had gone to Kali Fish Port on Lake Basse to receive seamanship training from Captain Hansen, while the craftsmen learned shipbuilding techniques from Baron Haigete. Mixed in with these people were Alchemists from Rose Manor and family death commandos secretly trained by Victor. They would participate in the research experiments for Mind Warriors and Mystic Knights.

Winter passed and spring came. In January of the following year, while the ice and snow had not yet melted, the first Mind Warrior in human history with a Root Talent was born.

He was a test subject provided by Victor, only twelve years old this year. At the age of four, he was adopted by the House of Randell after an inducement fee was paid. He had practiced the Golden Toad Mystic Form since childhood, mastering the techniques of visualization and the breathing method. At seven, he had undergone body reconstruction by a priest, making his mental force stronger than an ordinary person’s. He had practiced the third-level Source Blood Secret Art, which specifically stimulated bloodline variation, for a full twenty-five months and was already well-versed in the Forging Method and visualization for Mind Warriors.

Tofwen personally prepared the bloodline-stimulating potions for him, monitoring his bloodline changes daily. The Forging Method and the potions complemented each other. Coupled with the test subject’s pure mind and astonishing focus, after three consecutive months of single-minded cultivation and consuming six vials of Dreamhaze Potion, he finally succeeded in constructing the Vital Tenacity talent of an Alchemical Soldier.

The old Wizard examined his Bloodline talent and growth limits and came to an astonishing conclusion.

When the young, initial-rank Mind Warrior reached his developmental limit, he would possess physical qualities no less than a Ferocious Warrior’s and several special bloodline abilities.

Strength: His maximum height would be 1.87 meters, weight 98 kilograms. His strength limit would be five times that of an ordinary person, comparable to a mid-rank apprentice knight who had resonated with eight Elemental Nodes.

Tough Physique: His skin would be thick and rough, his muscles full and compact, exhibiting the sinewy characteristics of a Ferocious Warrior. Tensed muscles could withstand a volley of arrows from a hunting bow. His bones would be unexpectedly hard and elastic, surpassing the bone strength of a Ferocious human and approaching the level of a Bugbear.

Superior Stamina: His muscle fatigue threshold would be six times that of an ordinary person, and his muscle fatigue recovery rate would surpass that of Aerie Fortress’s most elite Mystic Warriors. In other words, his stamina would be even more formidable than that of an initial-rank knight with an affinity for the earth element.

Resistance to Hunger and Thirst: His digestive system had mutated. The breakdown function of his digestive fluids was powerful, normally weakly acidic. Only when eating would the acid concentration soar. He could eat four times the amount of an ordinary person in one sitting. The excess energy and water would be stored in his body in the form of compressed fat. He could maintain normal mobility for five days without water and fifteen days without food. When the compressed fat was depleted, his feeling of hunger would be particularly intense. This ability was actually similar to that of a beast of prey, which often alternates between feasting and starving.

Minor Self-Healing: His self-healing ability surpassed that of an ordinary person, enough to withstand relatively serious injuries. He could also repair physical damage and recover from muscle fatigue through meditative sleep.

Elemental Resistance: He had heat resistance and cold resistance, but no resistance to the earth element or wind element.

This Root Talent caused an ordinary boy’s body to evolve in a Savage state, which was enviable. Narsen was itching with curiosity, clamoring that he also wanted to construct a Root Talent, only to be harshly scolded by Victor.

Except for the resistance to hunger and thirst, Narsen was far stronger than the Mind Warrior in every other ability; this Root Talent would be of little help to him. On the other hand, although Tofwen guaranteed that the potions he provided were harmless to the human body, how could Victor let Narsen take the risk? The Dreamhaze Potion, in particular, was a mind-altering potion. Whether it had any negative effects on a person’s mind required several years of follow-up observation of the test subject before Victor could be certain.

The Ferocious warriors of House Randell could not be used as test subjects, but the Alchemical humans could.

As it happened, Nicole wrote a letter to Victor. Besides pouring her heart out to her Lover, she also urged Lilia to hurry back. The affairs of the Randell Fief were complicated, and she was already getting overwhelmed.

Victor indeed had no time to spend with Lilia, so he had Narsen and Lilia return to the Randell Fief first. Narsen also had a mission: he had to bring the formulas for the bloodline potion and the Dreamhaze Potion, as well as some key ingredients, back to the family. The Alchemists at Rose Manor were to concoct the finished products for a specific batch of Elite Guards to consume.

In the Hill Secret Fortress of the Randell Fief, there were ten Alchemical humans who had been practicing the Golden Toad Mystic Form for eight years and the third-level Source Blood Secret Art for twenty-five months. If they took the same potions, they might also be able to construct the Vital Tenacity talent of an Alchemical Soldier.

In truth, the cultivation method of the first Mind Warrior was not suitable for widespread use. For the sake of experimental efficiency, the bloodline potions prepared by Tofwen used precious medicinal herbs and were extremely valuable. Victor estimated that the total value of the potions needed for the ten Alchemical humans would be no less than sixty thousand Gold Sols.

However, once the Alchemical humans mastered the Root Talent, the Alchemy Tower could extract their memories and generate it as a loadable skill. That would be a huge profit.

A month and a half after Narsen left, spurred on by the success of the Mind Warrior, the Regent and the Alchemists of Aerie Fortress employed extreme measures and paid a high price to create a Mystic Knight.

In January of Radiant Year 7572, the first Mind Warrior was born. In March of Radiant Year 7572, the first Mystic Knight was born.

Chapter 597: The Truth of the Conspiracy

The Mystic Knight was an adult whose bloodline had already solidified, but this was not a major problem for Tofwen the Wizard. The man had never practiced the Golden Toad Mystic Form, and he had only been practicing the third-level Source Blood Secret Art for a mere fifteen months.

By rights, when an adult diligently practiced a Source Blood Secret Art and supplemented it with the relevant bloodline potions, it would take a minimum of three years, or as long as five, for their solidified bloodline to reactivate, return to a developmental state, and gradually strengthen. Only then would they have a chance to construct a Root Talent. Even so, their success rate was far lower than that of minors who had practiced the Mind Bloodline secret art from a young age.

After fifteen months of arduous practice, the bloodline components related to the Life Tenacity Talent in that apprentice knight had only just broken free from their solidified state. They were far from reaching the minimum threshold for constructing a Root Talent.

But Tofwen could not wait that long. He urgently needed a Mystic Knight to offset the influence of the initial-rank Mind Warriors and pull the Research Direction back to the Knight-path bloodline secret art. If there was no progress with the Mystic Knight soon, His Highness Randall would begin to have other ideas.

The old Wizard directly used several bottles of Gold Potion to smash the test subject into the realm of a senior apprentice knight. By resonating with eleven Elemental Nodes, the elemental attributes of his body were enhanced. Especially when circulating his Aura, his spiritual power (power of the mind) surpassed that of an ordinary person, making visualization much easier. And that wasn’t all. He had formulated a whole set of bloodline potions tailored for the test subject, many of which were highly toxic. The toxins in the potions potentiated one another yet were cleverly neutralized, resulting in astonishingly potent effects. The subject’s bloodline variation was surprisingly close to the ideal state, as if he had been practicing the third-level Source Blood Secret Art for over five years. This was also thanks to him now being a senior apprentice knight; circulating his Aura allowed him to resist the potions’ toxicity. Had it been an ordinary person, they would have long since succumbed to the poison, even with the neutralizing effects.

Tofwen’s understanding of the human bloodline was profound and thorough; his application of potions was exquisite and meticulous; his methods of combining potions with bloodlines were simply miraculous.

Victor had no doubt about the old Wizard’s knowledge and abilities. It was a pity that potions could not create the Root Talent of a Mind Warrior, and his Wizardry could only perceive a so-called “growth limit.”

Life has its limits, but the mind is limitless. The mind is the sovereign of the Bloodline Law, so who could truly see the limits of life? The extraordinariness of a Mind Warrior lay in the long-term stimulation of their bloodline by their power of the mind, keeping it active. Even an initial-rank Mind Warrior, as long as they practiced diligently, could maintain their Root Talent’s Bloodline Law in a developmental state, continuously absorbing nutrients and allowing their bloodline abilities to constantly improve, though the rate of progress would gradually slow, even becoming minuscule. But if a Mind Warrior grew lazy in their practice, their bloodline talent would also atrophy day by day.

The growth limit Tofwen saw for the Mind Warrior was based on his current Root Talent. In reality, that little fellow still had a great deal of room for improvement.

When the power of the mind broke through the body’s limitations and could alter reality, that was the highest realm of a Mind Warrior—the Light of the Mind. And even the Light of the Mind had different levels. Victor had already reached the realm of the Light of the Mind, but he could still go much further.

The premise for all of this was direction—to constrain the disordered, scattered power of the mind and bloodline variations into an orderly, controllable Root Talent, not to let one’s limited life be consumed by savage growth.

Relying on potions alone, the apprentice knight test subject could not construct his own Root Talent.

Tofwen borrowed the power of divine arts.

The test subject had learned the visualization method, but his mind was not as pure or focused as that of the children who had practiced the Golden Toad Mystic Form from a young age. So, the Aerie Fortress Wizard first had the subject take an improved version of the top-tier Dragon’s Vein Potion, followed by Dreamhaze, which put his body into a deep slumber from which he could not be woken. Marquess Golan personally stepped in, inviting Bishops and priests from the prefectures of the north, claiming that a Knight-Noble had ingested the wrong medicine, fallen into a coma, and needed to be treated with body reconstruction. Out of respect for the Gold Knight, the Bishops and priests performed the Divine Art of the Fire of the Mind and healing divine arts on the test subject.

With the help of the Divine Art of the Fire of the Mind and the Dragon’s Vein Potion, the test subject successfully constructed a Root Talent and became a Mystic Knight.

His talent ability was the same as a Mind Warrior’s, but his strength was far more formidable. He was essentially a senior apprentice knight in a Savage state.

In his normal state, his strength was six times that of an ordinary person. When circulating his Aura, it approached the average level of a Bronze Knight, equivalent to the combined strength of seven Elite Soldiers, or eleven ordinary men. Sylvia had pointed out that his apprentice knight-level Spirit and Perception limited the expression of his strength; otherwise, his Burst power would be no less than that of a Bronze Knight who could resonate with twenty-four Elemental Nodes.

Even so, the Mystic Knight’s strength was already astounding. One must know that the strength limit for a senior apprentice knight was the combined force of five Elite Soldiers. Most critically, an apprentice knight’s total Aura and recovery speed were a far cry from a full knight’s. They could only sustain about fifty minutes of fighting at their limit, and any longer would mean overdrawing their vigor, putting them in danger of utter exhaustion. With the Vital Tenacity Talent, the Mystic Knight’s base strength increased from three times that of a normal person to six times, making him comparable to a mid-rank apprentice knight even without circulating his Aura. Meanwhile, Superior Stamina helped fill the combat gap during Aura recovery, allowing them to fight while regenerating their Aura.

It could be said that the Mystic Knight’s power was a qualitative breakthrough compared to that of an ordinary apprentice knight.

Whether it was Auguste or York, all the apprentice knights who participated in the experiment were thrilled by the birth of the Mystic Knight. But the kingdom’s Highnesses and Tofwen the Wizard tacitly agreed that this kind of Mystic Knight was a failure.

First, his creation was not replicable. In addition to consuming rare resources, it also required Tofwen’s meticulous attention. The old Wizard would not live forever. The legacy of the Mystic Knights had to be widespread. The upper limit for resources consumed by each Mystic Knight was tentatively set at twenty thousand Gold Sols, and of course, the cheaper the secret art’s legacy, the better.

Second, this Mystic Knight had already walked into a dead end. He could not become a full knight even if he continued to take Gold Potions.

Apprentice knights who had cleansed their bloodline could not advance to Bronze Knight; Gold Potions could at best help them resonate with eleven Elemental Nodes. This was because their knight’s bloodline had already solidified. The very purpose of the Knight-path bloodline secret art was to break this bloodline solidification. In comparison, the Mystic Knight’s individual strength was not the most important goal.

A Mystic Knight’s Root Talent should be centered on the knight’s bloodline. They would practice diligently every day and regularly take bloodline potions to stimulate and maintain the activity of their knight’s bloodline. A single Gold Potion could then push them into the realm of a Bronze Knight. Therefore, the mind potion they needed to take was not “Dreamhaze,” but “Dawn,” which came after “Despair.” And of course, the Knight-path’s third-level Source Blood Secret Art was indispensable.

Victor was responsible for designing the Mystic Knight’s Root Talent and the corresponding Forging Method. Sylvia assisted Tofwen in improving the Despair potion.

For Victor, designing a Knight-path Source Blood Secret Art was an extremely difficult task. He was not a Knight, so how could he understand the mysteries of a knight’s bloodline?

Tofwen provided him with a large number of manuscripts, which recorded every case of the Wizard using potions to cultivate a knight’s bloodline. Alongside these were the Wizard’s own speculations, analyses of successes and failures, and other insights.

The old wizard had indeed been holding something back… For an ordinary potion master, these priceless manuscripts would be like trying to read a celestial script. But for Victor, by cross-referencing them with the map of the human bloodline provided by Tofwen, his thoughts gradually cleared, and he began to form a rough idea.

Warriors pursued extremes—for example, desiring immense power, they would train their muscles and Physique; wanting precise archery, they would train their eyesight and predictive intuition. Knights pursued balance. Simply put, they used their Spirit to coordinate strength and agility, and to govern their internal Life and external Perception. A Mind Warrior’s Forging Method leaned towards bloodline abilities, while a Knight’s Forging Method prioritized the power of the mind.

Victor, guided by the principle of aesthetics, extrapolated a Knight-path Root Talent. Compared to the Mind Warrior’s Vital Tenacity Root Talent, the Mystic Knight’s Root Talent could be described as unremarkable and singular.

This type of Mystic Knight, without circulating Aura, would have base attributes four times that of an ordinary person, making them slightly stronger than an initial-rank apprentice knight. Abilities like Superior Stamina, a tenacious physique, Resistance to Hunger and Thirst, and self-healing were all gone. Nor could they take secret mind potions to manifest talent transformations like going berserk or entering a state of Bloodlust. Its benefit was that it enhanced the Mystic Knight’s Spirit and Perception and improved their agility, allowing them to fully utilize their own strength and display more exquisite combat skills.

The Mystic Knight’s individual strength had decreased, but they could maintain the activity of their knight’s bloodline. Victor wouldn’t have been surprised if a Mystic Knight managed to resonate with Elemental Nodes on their own. Of course, their chances of breaking through the bloodline barrier and advancing to Bronze-rank by themselves were slim, but at least there was now room for self-improvement, and it was exceptionally light on money and resources.

Yes, that was the most important part.

Victor designed over a dozen experimental Knight-path Source Blood Secret Arts and gave them to the test subjects for them to practice individually. The rest of the work was to let time verify the results, after which Victor would adjust the Forging Methods based on the tests to derive the optimal Knight-path Source Blood Secret Art.

However, the improvement of the Dawn potion ran into huge difficulties.

Aside from the well-balanced Strength Potion, the Knight-path Source Blood Secret Art did not require a wide variety of bloodline potions. It didn’t seem much different from the second-level Source Blood Secret Art. In reality, the focuses of the two secret arts were complete opposites. The Knight-path Source Blood Secret Art emphasized the dynamic Stance practice of “external movement, internal stillness.” Through this dynamic Stance practice, the practitioner’s power of the mind would be enhanced, coordinating their body and mind. Victor explicitly requested that Tofwen grade the Dawn potion, creating a mind potion suitable for daily use with the dynamic Stance practice. It needed to allow the practitioner’s body to spontaneously complete a full set of movements while in a state of no-thought.

Body awake, mind asleep.

Glyn the dwarf was so angry he was hopping mad, pointing at Victor’s nose and saying, “This is the complete opposite of the Despair potion, which awakens the mind and puts the body to sleep!”

Victor calmly replied, “Not only does it have to be the opposite, it has to be cheap enough for a practitioner to take it every day until they can enter a state of subconscious-controlled action on their own. And in the end, they will still need to take the Dawn potion to construct the Mystic Knight’s Root Talent… Since you’ve already invented the positive version of the potion, wouldn’t reversing its effects be even simpler?”

Glyn and Tofwen were stunned for a long moment, then they threw themselves fanatically into the work of reverse-engineering the potion.

In any case, Victor was finally free. He calculated the time and saw there were ninety-four days until Catherine’s due date. He decided to return to the royal palace to accompany Catherine and await the birth of their darling daughter, Linobia.

His Highness Randall, along with the big guy Aka, left the resort manor, planning to head to Port Kali to rendezvous with his retinue before taking a carriage back to Blinor City.

Upon arriving in Port Kali, Victor, as was his custom, first paid a visit to the Church. As his carriage approached the Church, he encountered an old friend.

The kingdom’s former tax collector, now an official in the Ministry of Internal Affairs and First-rank Court Viscount, Ternis, spotted Victor’s carriage and hurried over to greet him.

“Ternis Ludwig pays his respects to Your Highness Randall!” he said, bowing respectfully toward the carriage from behind the guards, his voice neither too loud nor too soft.

“Please have Viscount Ludwig join me in my carriage.”

Ternis secretly breathed a sigh of relief. He straightened his clothes, gave a nod of thanks to the Personal Guard who made way for him, and stepped into the carriage.

The church square in Port Kali was crowded and conspicuous, no place for a conversation. The driver urged the heavy draft horses forward, pulling the carriage slowly towards the military docks. Ternis’s retainers followed at a distance, leading their mounts.

Inside the carriage, Victor teased his slightly reserved old friend with a smile, “Ternis, did you come here specifically to intercept me?”

Ternis visibly relaxed, a wry smile on his face. He answered honestly, “Your Highness, I’ve been waiting for you in Port Kali for half a month. I knew as soon as your retinue drove out to pick you up.”

“Oh,” Victor said, nodding faintly.

“I dare not waste Your Highness’s time.”

The Viscount sat upright and said, “I have come to find you this time because there is a matter I would like to ask Your Highness to inquire about on my behalf, and to lend a hand.”

“A month ago, there was a rumor that the son of Duke Peter, a noble of Moon Elf bloodline from the Borrey United Kingdom, Raymond Peter, was attacked while inspecting the Twilight Forest defensive line… Raymond Peter’s guards suffered heavy casualties, and Raymond himself nearly lost his life, but he successfully thwarted the attackers’ attempt. The mastermind of the attack was captured, and all his accomplices were killed.”

He paused, then said in a strained voice, “It is rumored that the mastermind was a Great Knight from our Kingdom of Borea, the eldest grandson of Marquess Ludwig, Jacob Ludwig.”

Victor pondered for a moment, then raised an eyebrow and asked, “A rumor?”

There were two kinds of noble rumors. One was a deliberately spread falsehood; the other was deliberately leaked information, a form of informal communication meant to tell the other party to hurry up and find a way to solve the problem privately, lest it be brought to the table for all to see.

Seeing the question in His Highness Randall’s eyes, Ternis sighed and shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s true… Jacob was once betrothed to Miss Michelle Dilweir of the Borrey United Kingdom. Michelle was a Moon Elf noblewoman of outstanding beauty, only fifteen years old at the time. Jacob met Michelle in the Royal Capital of Eyer and fell in love with her at first sight. After they both returned to their respective countries to prepare for the wedding, Miss Dilweir was tragically assassinated by the Throat-slitter in the Borrey United Kingdom. When she was killed, she had just turned sixteen and was two months away from marrying into the Marquess’s estate of House Ludwig.”

At this point, he hesitated, then said measuredly, “At the time, there were rumors that Miss Dilweir was assassinated by men sent by her cousin, Raymond Peter… It was said that Raymond’s love turned to hate, and out of jealousy, he murdered his cousin who had ignored him. Well, none of us were sure if it was true, but Raymond Peter was soon stripped of his family’s line of succession… His fiancée was murdered for no reason, yet he could not avenge her. Jacob was both furious and heartbroken, so he left the Ludwig family, took the name Godfrey, and became a Ranger.”

“When Raymond Peter was visiting the Kingdom of Sus, Jacob happened to be active near the Twilight Forest… He really would try to assassinate Raymond.”

Tapping his fingers lightly on the small table in the carriage, Victor asked with a profound gaze, “Are there any more specific details?”

Ternis’s face turned a little pale. He shook his head and said, “Jacob is the Grand Vizier’s eldest grandson, and also my wife’s younger male cousin. I’ve known him since we were children… When the news came, I hadn’t yet met with the Grand Vizier. I wanted to ask Your Highness to first help me find out the specific details.”

Victor did not commit directly, pressing on, “Since Jacob is a Great Knight, who captured him? And in whose hands is he now?”

“Mm.” Ternis cleared his dry throat and answered, “It is said that His Highness Medin of the Kingdom of Sus personally entered the Twilight Forest and captured Jacob. He is now being held by the Meding family. The Inquisition has not yet intervened.”

The Inquisition had not intervened, which meant that Jacob Ludwig, who had tried to assassinate a noble, could still be saved. If Victor stepped in to inquire about the situation, it would signal that His Highness Randall was personally looking into the matter, which meant there was room for negotiation.

The question was, why hadn’t the Inquisition intervened? Or rather, why were the Peter family of Borea and the Meding family of Sus hiding this from the Inquisition and instead communicating secretly with Gambis?

The Radiant Knights planned to gradually withdraw the Temple Army from the Twilight Forest defensive line, which would sharply increase the pressure on Duke Meiding, the great lord of the north of Sus. If the Twilight Forest line crumbled, life would be hard for the Kingdom of Sus, and they would make sure the Borrey United Kingdom suffered as well. The Boreans’ shipbuilding timber, the raw materials for their cleansing potions, and their trade route to the outside world were all in the hands of the Sus people. They would have no choice but to send troops to reinforce the north of Sus.

On the other hand, the Kingdom of Sus was adjacent to the Theocracy of Ayr. The high-quality timber from the Twilight Forest could be transported through the Theocracy of Ayr to the shores of Lake Fies in the Randt Imperial territory. Only if the Twilight Forest line held could the Kingdom of Borea cooperate with the Neo Wester family to build a port and ships on the shores of Lake Fies, and then begin their expansion south of the river.

If there was no hope for the Randt Imperial territory’s expansion south of the river, the Neo Wester family could only accept Nachtigal’s proposal and turn its gaze to the Eastern Alliance. That was the shared backyard of the Trigoval family, the Kingdom of Sus, and the Kingdom of Borea. Resisting the entry of Neo Wester and Nachtigal into the Eastern Alliance was in the common interest of the Inquisition, Sus, and Borea.

Under these circumstances, Raymond Peter of the Borrey United Kingdom and Princess Celine of the Kingdom of Sus were joined in a marriage alliance.

The Gambis Kingdom wanted to dominate the waters of Lake Fies and had no desire to see a Borean fleet there. At the same time, Auguste and Neo Wester had a blood feud, and Aerie Fortress was even more unwilling to see pioneers from the Randt Imperial territory set foot on the southern continent.

Therefore, Gambis had the most reason to sabotage the marriage alliance between Borea and Sus. If Raymond Peter were killed on Duke Meiding’s lands, even if the Boreans and the Sus people chose to continue their alliance, they would have to engage in a long war of words. This perfectly suited Gambis’s need to stall for time.

Jacob Ludwig was a Great Knight of the Auguste family bloodline. In the eyes of Borea and Sus, his assassination of Raymond Peter for personal revenge was an act secretly orchestrated by Gambis.

The deadliest part was that if this matter were exposed, Nachtigal would convince the Neo Wester family of the Gambis Kingdom’s resolve to prevent the Randt Imperial territory’s southern expansion, a resolve so strong they were willing to sacrifice a Great Knight of a high bloodline to destroy the marriage alliance between the two kingdoms. Neo Wester would most likely change its strategy and turn to advance east.

The Trigoval family, which controlled the Inquisition, could not let this happen. They chose to play deaf and dumb, letting Duke Meiding resolve the issue privately with the Gambis people through unofficial channels.

The murder of a noble was a grave crime. Jacob, being of the Auguste family bloodline and the grandson of Grand Vizier Marquess Ludwig, was caught by Duke Meiding after assassinating Raymond Peter. This put Aerie Fortress in a particularly passive position. If the Grand Vizier of Gambis were to directly plead with Duke Meiding, it would be tantamount to admitting that Aerie Fortress had ordered Jacob’s assassination of Raymond. Not only would Auguste lose face, but Gambis would also have to concede tangible benefits.

After much deliberation, Aerie Fortress thought of His Highness Randall.

Victor looked at the Eagle Wing Bow hanging on the carriage wall and said sentimentally, “This bow was crafted for me by Princess Celine of the Kingdom of Sus…”

Ternis was dumbfounded. After a long stunned silence, he murmured, “I truly did not know…”

“You may not have known, but Marquess Ludwig certainly did,” Victor said with a slight, self-deprecating smile. “My reputation is not very good to begin with. Another piece of gossip won’t make a difference.”

The Nobles were accustomed to using gossip to conceal the truth of conspiracies.

So what? Raymond Peter could send people to kill Michelle in the name of jealousy, but others were not allowed to seek revenge for love? If the weight of Great Knight Jacob Ludwig wasn’t enough, was the weight of His Highness Randall enough? Would it be acceptable if His Highness Randall sent someone to assassinate you, Raymond, out of jealousy?

Princess Celine’s reputation had been damaged when she confessed her love to Victor and was rejected. If Victor, out of jealousy, had instructed Jacob to assassinate her fiancé, the story would transform into this: His Highness Randall had courted Princess Celine and been rejected, and Celine had chosen Raymond Peter as her partner. Both Princess Celine and Raymond Peter would save face, and the matter could be put to rest.

Marquess Ludwig was an old fox, having His Highness Randall’s good friend Ternis come to plead on his behalf. But what he didn’t know was that Jacob Ludwig’s attack on Raymond Peter was, in fact, orchestrated by Victor himself.

Chapter 598: Disaster Strikes

Ten years ago, the young Baron Wimbledon was assassinated by an unknown wizard. From this, Victor suspected that his own arrival was related to wizards, and to the extraordinary being behind them.

If he could uncover that wizard’s origins, he might have a chance to get ahold of that extraordinary being’s tail. However, the wizard who murdered the young baron seemed to have suffered a wizardry backlash, dying in the basement of an inn in Black Fortress Town. Victor was still very weak at the time, and afraid of arousing suspicion—and even more afraid of attracting the attention of that extraordinary being—so he never sent anyone to investigate the details of the wizard’s death. The trail seemed to have gone cold.

That is, until Victor captured The Throat-slitter, who had been sent to assassinate him in his own territory. According to the assassin, he had been acting on Raymond Peter’s orders to eliminate the Moon Elf nobles in the human kingdoms. At least two nobles had died by his dagger: one was a noblewoman named Michelle, and the other was the lover of the Queen of Sus.

Nobles and commoners lived in two different worlds. Moon Elf nobles were heavily protected by the great nobles. How could a commoner assassin in a savage state possibly assassinate a Moon Elf noble? Even if he succeeded, how could he escape? And once the assassin was captured, could the mastermind have possibly gotten away?

Raymond knew his cousin’s movements like the back of his hand, so it wouldn’t have been difficult for him to kill Michelle, but it would have left very obvious traces. Queen Eleonor’s lover was well-protected; by all rights, The Throat-slitter should not have had the slightest chance of assassinating him. And yet, he had somehow killed the Queen’s lover and made a clean getaway. This meant that The Throat-slitter’s assassination of the Queen’s lover had been secretly pushed forward by the great lords of Sus. It might have been a warning from the powerful houses of Sus to the Eleonor family, but it also showed that Raymond’s plot to murder Moon Elf nobles had already been noticed by the great nobles of Sus.

The Masked Brotherhood served both Borui and the nobles of Sus. It was no surprise that The Throat-slitter’s identity and objective were exposed while using the Masked Brotherhood’s channels in the Kingdom of Sus.

When Duke Peter was warned by the great lords of Sus, he quickly investigated the truth, decisively executed Raymond’s personal steward, stripped Raymond of his rights as the family heir, and exiled him to Southwind Harbor, arranging for him to participate in a military operation to infiltrate the Gogen barbarians as a way to atone for his crimes.

The Throat-slitter was a paranoid madman, his heart filled with hatred for the nobility. Was Raymond Peter also a madman? If he wasn’t crazy, he must have been under the influence of wizardry to commit such a frantic and reckless foolish act.

The broken thread of clues was reconnected. Raymond Peter had entered Victor’s sights.

Later, Raymond took charge of the Southwind Merchant Association and attacked Wimbledon’s commercial network in the Dodor Kingdom. He utilized the power of the Masked Brotherhood. Quicksilver not only seized a color-changing cloak from the hands of the Masked Brotherhood’s Bloodguards, but also had a close encounter with the mysterious wizard organization.

Victor had reason to believe that the wizard organization’s nest was in the Eastern Alliance and that they had dealings with the Inquisition. Considering that Paladins hunted wizards, it was likely a kind of rearing relationship. The wizards, with their clandestine methods, would be unwilling to be the Inquisition’s pigs in a pen. They had the ability to support a noble as their agent.

The future Prince of the Kingdom of Sus, Raymond Peter? He was an excellent choice…

In the past, Victor lacked the power to do anything, but now… His Highness Randell could try planting an informant by Raymond Peter’s side.

The specific plan was this: Tao De would assume the identity of the Ranger Duncan and go to Jacob Ludwig, managing to entice him into attacking the young master Peter during his inspection of the Twilight Forest defense line. Tao De would then plan the assassination for Jacob, roping in Wamon, the former magistrate of Stonetooth City, to participate in the attack on Raymond Peter. In return, Wamon’s family would receive the favor and help of Jacob Ludwig. If the assassination succeeded, Jacob would pay their penance fee, freeing them from their status as criminal prisoners and allowing them to join one of the princely families of Gambis.

Wamon was the secret agent Quicksilver had chosen.

He had been convicted for the assassination of the Golden Dawn Sparrow Earl, stripped of his family surname and noble status by his liege lord, Marquess Dwemick. The Inquisition had sentenced him, his family, and his vassals to ten years of hard labor on the Twilight Forest defense line, after which they would be exiled to the Eastern Alliance.

When Narsen led the Bear Company on a night raid against Horra Ludwig, Magistrate Wamon had abandoned Horra, leading his own family to break through first. For this, Wamon and his family suffered the most severe punishment a noble could face, but at least they didn’t end up as sacrifices for Earl Horace, and their lives were preserved for the time being.

Quicksilver’s assessment of Wamon was: selfish, protective of his family, possessed of good judgment, and decisive.

A man like this would not believe Tao De’s one-sided story, especially since they were not close. Wamon could not confirm that the Ranger Godfrey was Jacob Ludwig, and Tao De would not introduce him to Jacob. This was a trap laid by Quicksilver from the beginning; Jacob, Wamon, and Raymond were all pieces on the board.

Tao De never directly incited Jacob to assassinate Raymond Peter because that would have been the most foolish approach. All Quicksilver had to do was manufacture a fatal encounter and provoke a chaotic conflict; then there was no fear that Jacob would let the murderer of his fiancée go.

Jacob knew nothing beforehand, so how could Tao De have possibly introduced Wamon to him? When Wamon was unable to meet the principal, he immediately knew it was a fatal trap. But from the moment Tao De had approached him, he had no way out.

Wamon could not report this to a priest. He was a criminal prisoner, and his words carried no weight; he could be trampled on at will. His noble status had saved him once, but it would not save him a second time. He had no evidence, the assassination had not yet occurred, and falsely accusing a Knight-Noble of high bloodline was a capital offense. His only option was to follow Quicksilver’s script—pretend to agree to the assassination, feign civility with Tao De while probing the ambush plan, and at the critical moment, betray them and do everything in his power to rescue the endangered young master Peter.

If his rescue of Raymond failed, death would be inevitable. But if he succeeded, he might win Raymond Peter’s favor. Wamon was no ignorant commoner; he could make a judgment that benefited him and would certainly seize the opportunity to change his fate.

Setting aside the fact that assisting Jacob in assassinating Raymond was tantamount to suicide, one only had to look at their respective identities and factions. One was a scion of a Gambis princely house, Jacob Ludwig; the other was the eldest son of a great lord of Borui and the future Prince of Sus, Raymond Peter. Wamon had once assisted Raymond Peter’s Southwind Merchant Association in their fight against the Wimbledon Merchant Association, earning the ire of Marchioness Wimbledon. With that history, it would be utterly unwise for him to seek refuge with the Blue Dawn Sparrow family of Gambis. He could not withstand the hostility of Marchioness Wimbledon. Raymond Peter, on the other hand, would be more likely to accept him.

Wamon could figure out who to help with his eyes closed!

And yet, all of this had been chosen for him by Quicksilver.

The best part was yet to come. Assuming Wamon successfully aided Raymond and won his favor, he could never tell Raymond the truth. Otherwise, it would be a confession of withholding information with treacherous intent. He had to pretend he knew nothing about the assassination plot, and even if someone accused him, he would have to grit his teeth and deny everything.

This gave Quicksilver a handle on him.

Of course, the person Wamon most wanted to silence was Tao De, but his worries were entirely unnecessary. Tao De would not only refrain from exposing him but would also find ways to cover for him, waiting for a suitable opportunity in the future to slowly “cook” him. As for Jacob, he did not know Wamon at all and could not possibly drag him into it.

Unable to report it beforehand and unable to confess afterward, Wamon must have realized that he had been targeted by a major power. But he had no choice but to jump into the pit Quicksilver had dug for him.

After reading the plan submitted by Barol, Victor was full of admiration. Paul Randell, at such a young age, was already full of schemes and plots, playing the knight Wamon in the palm of his hand. He was even a cut above his tutor, Barol.

In reality, this fully demonstrated the vast gap between an organization and an individual. The information Quicksilver possessed, the personnel it could deploy, and the resources it controlled were things Wamon could not hope to contend with. Even High-ranked Knights like Jacob and Raymond Peter had become Quicksilver’s targets and pawns.

Unbeknownst to him, Quicksilver had grown to such an extent… Victor was secretly pleased. The entire plan was conceived and executed by Quicksilver. He had only given the order and had not interfered in the specific details. During this time, he had been staying at the Royal Family’s resort manor, researching the Mind Bloodline secret art. Quicksilver couldn’t contact him, so he was currently unaware of the infiltration plan’s status, any unexpected incidents that occurred, how many Alchemical militia Quicksilver had sacrificed, whether Wamon was dead or alive, or if he had been taken in by Raymond Peter… Victor didn’t know these things, and in truth, he didn’t much care about the outcome.

If they failed, they could simply try again. Quicksilver now had that capability.

A smile played on His Highness Randell’s lips; he seemed to be in a good mood. Ternis ventured, “Your Highness, regarding this matter…”

Victor’s gaze returned to Ternis’s face. He smiled and said, “My friend, you should be a little more considerate of yourself right now.”

Ternis was the first court noble Victor had met, and the two had always maintained a relatively close relationship. He had even become a part of The Golden Company. Befriending Viscount Randell had brought Ternis some advantages. But as Victor’s status and position grew more revered, that advantage had turned into an obstacle to Ternis’s career. The most obvious change was his transfer from the tax department to the Ministry of Internal Affairs by the Regent, and his fiancée being changed from Marquess Ludwig’s granddaughter to his grandniece, who was also a female knight.

Ternis was originally supposed to take charge of the kingdom’s tax department, enduring a few years in that most hated position to build his credentials. Marquess Ludwig would have then paved the way for his grandson-in-law’s ascent; the position of Minister of Internal Affairs was being prepared for him. In the future, it was not impossible for him to wear the Grand Vizier’s sash.

Now that Victor had been elevated to a Highness and ascended to the throne of a Guardian of Gambis, Ternis’s political career was thoroughly finished.

The kingdom had more than one Guardian. If every Guardian interfered in the kingdom’s internal affairs, it would be tantamount to challenging the Royal Family’s bloodline and authority, which would only cause the kingdom to collapse from within. Therefore, the Guardians determined the kingdom’s direction and held ultimate decision-making power, but they could not interfere with the King’s rights, nor could they cultivate their own factions at court.

Ternis was labeled as His Highness Randell’s man, so it was a necessity for Aerie Fortress to sideline him and put him on ice.

Faced with His Highness Randell’s concern, Ternis’s heart grew heavy, but he said with great sincerity, “It is my greatest honor to be of service to Your Highness.”

Victor shook his head and chuckled. “Ternis, with all your knowledge and your ambition to assist the King, it would be a shame for you to be just a Liaison Officer between me and Aerie Fortress…” He paused, then changed the subject. “The Ranger Godfrey and the Peter family’s Raymond had a conflict due to a misunderstanding. Godfrey was careless and got captured. He is now Raymond Peter’s prisoner. According to custom, his family has the right to use a ransom to exchange for Godfrey’s freedom from Lord Peter… I just don’t know how many of the Peter family’s guards Godfrey killed, or if any Knight-Nobles died at his hands?”

How many people the Peter family lost, how much compensation was needed, and how much ransom was required to release Jacob would all be decided by the Peter family. The Blue Dawn Sparrow family had a legacy of a thousand years and must have amassed considerable wealth, but they couldn’t just let the Peter family ask for an exorbitant price. To put it bluntly, there had to be a limit to what Jacob was worth. That limit depended on how much face the mediator had.

Ternis’s eyes lit up. He said respectfully, “If Your Highness is willing to lend a hand, our Ludwig family will surely repay you.”

“If I were to mediate, your future would truly be hopeless.”

Victor waved his hand with a smile and said thoughtfully, “Actually, we have another great noble in Gambis who could easily resolve House Ludwig’s troubles.”

“…Marchioness Sophia Wimbledon.”

Ternis’s face was filled with surprise, which was quickly replaced by a look of deep thought.

Victor didn’t give him more time to think, saying directly, “Go and ask Marchioness Wimbledon for help first. If she is unwilling to step in, it won’t be too late for me to do so.”

With that, he pulled the rope tied to a small bell. The carriage quickly came to a stop, and an attendant outside opened the door.

“My friend, you can go back and discuss this with your wife now.”

Ternis hastily bowed and took his leave, quietly exiting the carriage. An attendant brought his horse over, but he missed the stirrup twice in a row.

Through the carriage window, Victor watched the distraught Ternis gradually walk away, a faint smile on his face.

The Protectors of the Kingdom did not interfere in the internal affairs of other families, so of course, His Highness Randell of the Centaur Hills could not directly meddle in the court affairs of the Auguste royal family.

Victor had no intention of undermining the Guardian System, but the kingdom’s tax and financial policies were related to the development of The Golden Company. He not only had to control The Golden Company but also ensure it could operate unhindered throughout the human kingdoms. This meant he could not pull the politically ambitious royal families into The Golden Company. But excluding the powerful royal families would harm the interests of their respective kingdoms. One could imagine how they would react to The Golden Company.

A trade tax could resolve the potential conflict between The Golden Company and the various royal families. In fact, with the development of agriculture, animal husbandry, and handicrafts, trade would only become more and more prosperous. With such a large trade sector, the kingdoms would have to impose a trade tax, whether they liked it or not.

No one liked paying taxes. Anyone who advocated for a trade tax was bound to be beaten black and blue. Williams had once tried to collect a trade tax but was met with staunch resistance from both fief lords and hereditary fief lords, and it ultimately came to nothing. The chief official in charge of the tax reform had an even more tragic end, framed for a crime and banished by the Regent to Minsk Fortress to serve as a minor logistics officer.

Since the top-down approach was unworkable, the only option was to go from the bottom up and muddy the waters.

The King would resort to extreme measures, encouraging minor lords to levy taxes chaotically. The more chaotic the situation, the better. When it became so chaotic that public resentment boiled over and priests were hopping mad, the King would then step in to clean up the mess and push forward his tax reform.

Rather than letting the kings make a mess of things, it was better to seize control of the tax reform and establish a trade tax policy that suited the needs of The Golden Company and could open the financial services sector to it.

If His Highness Randell were to do this himself, he would surely face strong opposition from the Four Great Princes of Aerie Fortress and all the other lords, even if it was beneficial to the Royal Family. In truth, Victor was also unwilling to offend all the lords. He was a Protector of the Kingdom, but also the Gold-Eyed Earl, a hereditary fief lord of Gambis.

It would be far too strange for a lord to be crying and shouting, begging to pay taxes to the King.

Only Marchioness Wimbledon had no fear of offending people. The Wimbledon family was about to give up its dominant role in their merchant association. In exchange, Sophia wanted to lead the Wimbledon family into the kingdom’s center of power. Tax reform, a task no one else wanted, was an excellent breakthrough point. If Sophia pushed for tax reform, the Four Great Princes of Aerie Fortress would have to publicly side with the lords and create obstacles for her, while secretly doing everything they could to ensure its success.

Collecting a trade tax was in the interest of the Royal Family, and the Four Great Princes and the Royal Family were, in reality, one and the same.

However, Sophia lacked a suitable representative. As she herself was a high-ranking female knight, and there was no precedent for a High-ranked Knight serving as the Minister of State—the Minister of War didn’t count, as that position had always been held by a core member of the Auguste royal family.

Viscount Ternis Ludwig was the best candidate Victor could think of. He was a member of the Ludwig family, had married a female knight from House Ludwig, and his heir would also bear the Ludwig name. If he were willing to pledge his allegiance to the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence and take charge of the tax reform, he would certainly face pressure from all sides. But once the tax reform succeeded, the families of the Four Great Princes could accept Ternis as the kingdom’s Minister of Finance.

If it were a scholar from any other family, the eve of the tax reform’s success would also be the moment of his downfall.

Most importantly, Ternis was already a member of The Golden Company; he just didn’t know it himself.

Pushing Ternis into the position of Minister of Finance would not be in vain for our acquaintance… Victor, filled with satisfaction, stepped out of the carriage and gazed at the shimmering Lake Basse.

Suddenly, a small, sailless boat caught Victor’s eye.

It was about seventeen meters long and four meters wide, with a V-shaped hull. It had three pairs of long oars on its sides, which seemed to be its means of propulsion. However, its oars were deep underwater, not rowing back and forth at all but making a semi-rotational motion. Its speed was surprisingly only slightly slower than a regular rowboat. Standing on the bow was a graceful, slender figure. She wore a female scholar’s robe, a platinum-blonde braid resting on her chest. A pair of crystal glasses sat on her straight, elegant nose. Her features were beautiful, her demeanor graceful and filled with an intellectual charm.

Who could it be but Princess Royal Roland?

Victor looked at the strange little boat, his curiosity itching. He took Caligula and strode quickly to the pier, asking a guard for a small fishing boat.

“Aka, you row, I’ll steer.”

Caligula sat down with a foolish grin and rowed with all his might. Victor raised the sail, summoned a current of air to fill it, and the small fishing boat cut a white line across the water, speeding towards Roland’s boat.

Roland saw Victor as well. She turned and gave an order, and her boat actually began to speed up and flee, clearly not wanting Victor to get close.

Victor was known as the Son of the Wind. While the gales he summoned couldn’t move a large ship, they were more than enough for a small fishing boat. Roland’s attempt to flee brought out the big fool’s playful side. He manipulated the oars to work in concert with the water’s flow, and the ordinary fishing boat was turned into a speedboat by the two extraordinary individuals. In no time, they had caught up to Roland.

“What are you chasing me for?!” The princess stood at the bow, hands on her hips, stamping her foot and scolding Victor in a delicate voice.

Victor placed a hand on his chest and bowed, saying with a smile, “I saw the most beautiful princess and couldn’t help but chase after you to offer my greetings… Your Highness, may I come aboard?”

Roland was very pleased with Victor’s answer. The corners of her mouth curled into a happy arc as she nodded. “Come on up.”

Victor and Caligula jumped onto the bow deck and immediately began to observe the boat’s propulsion system. It had no lower deck; the entire cabin was exposed to Victor’s sight. Sixteen sailors sat below, two to a station, with three stations on each side and two at the stern. They were pushing on pedal-wheels, and connecting rods from the wheels caused the oars to rotate.

“Is this… is this a sculling oar?!” Victor’s eyes widened as he exclaimed in surprise.

“Hmph, I invented it!”

Roland pushed her glasses up her nose. Seeing the dwarf Lorrin struggling to climb onto the bow deck, she added, “Lorrin is my assistant. He helped a little…”

“…just a tiny bit,” she said, holding up her right hand and pinching the tip of her little finger to emphasize that “a little bit” was really just a very, very little bit.

Caligula saw a familiar face. He bent down and lifted the hopping and jumping dwarf from the lower cabin to his eye level, greeting him with a goofy smile, “Shorty.”

Staring into Caligula’s pair of bull-like eyes, Lorrin was silent for a moment before saying softly, “Hi, Aka, so good to see you… The weather is nice today. The sun is bright, the temperature is just right, and the wind is perfect for fishing… Aka, do you know how to fish? Shaking your head means no… That’s alright, I can teach you… Could you put me down on the deck? Gently, like you’re placing a baby. Yes, just like that, well done… You big dummy. I, the great Lorrin, have defeated a foolish giant with my wisdom!”

After kicking Caligula hard, the dwarf darted behind Roland, poked his head out, and said loudly, “To the most beautiful, most wise, most courageous, most noble Princess Royal, your most loyal servant has taught a giant a harsh lesson today. This honor belongs to you!”

“Well done, Lorrin,” the princess affirmed the dwarf’s achievement.

Caligula looked around in confusion, then looked down at the dwarf making a face at him. He said to Victor, “Master, the shorty is lying. There’s no giant here.”

“…Aka, to Master Lorrin, you are indeed quite tall. Why don’t you go sit in the cabin.”

Victor looked down and asked the dwarf, “Your Excellency Lorrin, did you invent these sculling oars?”

“I invented them!” Roland said, displeased.

“Her Highness the Princess invented them!”

Lorrin jumped out, waving his arms and explaining, “Yes, yes, yes, Princess Roland invented them! I was honored that Her Highness the Princess accepted a tiny, insignificant piece of counsel from Lorrin.”

“What kind of counsel could Her Highness the Princess possibly accept?” Victor asked, his face full of curiosity.

“The paddle-wheel ship is clumsy and stupid. I don’t know which fool invented it,” Master Craftsman Lorrin said disdainfully. “The wheels are heavy, making it exhausting for the sailors to pedal; the structure is complex, easily damaged, and hard to repair; half in the water and half out, increasing drag and affecting the ship’s stability; it’s too bulky and causes collisions when docking… The beautiful Princess lamented, why can’t a paddle-wheel ship be as nimble as a fish? Lorrin counseled the princess to change the clumsy wheels into fins and a tail. Her Highness the Princess accepted Lorrin’s insignificant counsel, using the long sculling oars on the side of the hull to replace the fins and the long oar at the stern to replace the tail, thus inventing the Flying Fish Boat.”

Victor’s eyes lit up, and he said with pleasant surprise, “That’s right! With long sculling oars on the sides and stern, deep underwater, the wetted surface area is small, they’re unaffected by wind and waves, and the drag is also smaller. The sailors use pedal-wheels to make a connecting rod drive the oars in a semi-helical motion underwater, just like fish fins and tails. The propulsion efficiency is higher than a paddle-wheel ship, it’s easier to repair while underway, and even if the pedal-wheels break, the sailors can still scull directly. It’s perfectly suited for sailing on inland rivers and lakes… I have to admit, the Flying Fish Boat is superior to the paddle-wheel ship. Well done, Your Excellency Lorrin.”

“This is Her Highness the Princess’s invention. I just offered a tiny suggestion,” Lorrin corrected Victor’s erroneous statement.

Victor laughed. “Your Excellency’s tiny counsel is of great help to the kingdom. Of course, this is all to Her Highness the Princess’s credit… However, you might consider linking the pedal-wheels on both wings. That way, the movement of the long oars in the water wouldn’t interfere with each other but would be coordinated.”

“Link them? Link them! Link them… let me think, let me think… let me see.” The dwarf plopped down into the cabin and began to examine the structure of the pedal-wheels and connecting rods.

“Victor, you don’t seem angry?” Roland looked at the engrossed wise gnome and asked curiously. She had been secretly laughing when Lorrin called the inventor of the paddle-wheel ship a fool.

Victor smiled and shook his head. “Without countless fools walking the path before, there would be no great inventors to follow. At the very least, the pedal-wheel and connecting rod structure of the paddle-wheel ship still has value.”

Roland opened her mouth, speechless for a moment, and then shrugged her shoulders.

Just then, the urgent toll of an alarm bell suddenly came from the direction of Port Kali. The two of them turned to look and saw that the beacon tower of the port’s Church had been lit. Billowing smoke rose into the air, a shocking red, as if fresh blood were burning!

“The Church’s red smoke! The Guardian’s Oath!”

The Princess Royal of Gambis’s expression changed. She turned her head to look toward the distant mountains to the left of the lake shore. Reflected in her green eyes was another conspicuous column of red smoke.

“It’s coming from the north. Could something have happened in the Sasan Empire? Surely the Church’s beacon messengers didn’t light the wrong beacon fire? No, they couldn’t have. The red beacon fire requires the Patriarch’s approval to unseal the special fuel… It’s over, it’s over, I’m so excited!” Roland said excitedly, cradling her flushed cheeks.

The red beacon fire represented a crisis for the entire human kingdoms. Once the Church lit the red beacon fire, the knights of the human kingdoms had to abide by the ancient Guardian’s Oath, muster their armies, and ride for thousands of kilometers to provide aid. The last time the Church had lit the red beacon fire was three thousand years ago, when the Ogre King broke through the capital of the human empire.

Roland had stumbled upon an event that hadn’t occurred in three thousand years, and she couldn’t help but feel a yearning for heroism. The wind and fire elements around her suddenly calmed and fell silent. A profound aura spread outwards, and the ripples in the air and on the water’s surface froze. Roland turned her head to see a flowing light, like mist or a rainbow, shining in Victor’s dark gold eyes, drifting up from the corners of his eyes.

“Are you… are you, are you crying, or is this a new talent from your Mind Bloodline secret art?” Roland asked, dumbfounded. It was clearly a manifestation of the void water element and the void wind element, yet she could feel no elemental disturbance from Victor’s body at all. But that vast and profound aura was like a physical substance… the wind and waves were calm!

Could it be a special manifestation of the void fire element?

Victor’s voice seemed to come like a freezing wind from the Abyss, hollow, desolate, and bone-chillingly cold.

“I’ve been… I’m not ready… I’m a joke… Turn around, head to port. We’re going back to the Royal Capital.”

“Muster the troops for war!”

Chapter 599: A False Alarm?

Victor had started from scratch, building his empire step by step, going from weak to strong and ascending to the throne of a Guardian in just ten years. He founded the House of Randell, established The Golden Company, developed the New Agro-husbandry, promoted the tenant system, and invented the Mind Bloodline secret art. These various measures propelled the transformation of the Centaur Hills, the Gambis Kingdom, and even all the human kingdoms.

He had gained an immense sense of accomplishment and satisfaction, so much so that he had overlooked his original motivation for it all—to guide the development of the human kingdoms, enhance their strength, and jointly resist any powerful enemies that might appear.

From the moment he arrived, Victor knew this was not a peaceful world. The Elemental Sea continuously evolved and perfected the laws of the world, and these laws, in turn, constantly wove and expanded the material world. A boundless material world meant that the living space for intelligent species was not limited as it was on Earth, and unlimited living space meant that competition between intelligent species was a constant theme. But the Gambis Kingdom was in the rear of the human kingdoms. Apart from the Ant-man tide that had swept through the Centaur Hills, Victor had not experienced a brutal racial war. It wasn’t until the Radiant Church lit the red beacon fire that the almost forgotten sense of urgency once again seized his mind.

Regardless, the horns of war had sounded. Whether Victor’s centralized system and Grand Legion Strategy were ready or not, he had to fight a defensive war he was unprepared for—in the name of a Guardian, in the name of a human lord, and in the name of the vassalage system.

The alarm bells rang ceaselessly, beacon fires rose everywhere. No human kingdom could evade the trial of iron and blood!

Beneath the red smoke, the Royal Capital of Gambis was like a boiling cauldron. Swift horses charged out of the city gates, galloping in all directions; messengers from all over rushed into the Royal Capital. Above the raven towers, Red-Eyed messenger crows circled and cawed. Fully armed magistrate’s guards entered the markets, halting all trade and sealing all goods. The streets were filled with men carrying weapons, their faces grim and hurried. Parents bid farewell to their sons, wives to their husbands, and children chased after their fathers’ departing figures, their cries mingling with the clang of armor.

Blinor City was in chaos, Gambis was in chaos, and the human kingdoms were in chaos.

Chaos? No!

The human kingdoms had entered a state of total war. All human warriors were doing the same thing: grabbing their most trusted weapon, carrying three days of journey rations, and reporting to their masters.

The soldiers’ masters sought out their own lords.

The lords headed to their suzerain’s council hall.

The council halls of the Joshua family’s Deepwater City, the Chapman family’s Copper City, the Wellington family’s Vistock, the Nim family’s Ojibwa, and the York family’s Goldwater City began to prepare provisions and muster their armies, awaiting the Call to Arms from King Edward Auguste.

Edward was awaiting the final decision from the kingdom’s four Guardians.

The four Guardians of Gambis were also waiting. They waited in Brinol Cathedral for the first-hand intelligence from the Church.

The beacon fires transmitted news far faster than any messenger raven could fly. What exactly had happened at the front? Archbishop Saen of Brinol Cathedral didn’t know either. In accordance with the holy canons, he demanded that the Guardians of Gambis honor their ancient knightly oaths, issue the kingdom’s Call to Arms, and prepare for war. Whether news arrived from the front or not, the first army of the Gambis Kingdom had to march within a month, heading for the distant Sasan Empire to fight for humanity.

In truth, with the situation at the front unclear, it was Archbishop Saen who was most anxious. The red beacon fire was the Church’s highest level of war warning; only Patriarch Flidis, stationed in the Sasan Empire, had the authority to light it. His order to light the red beacon fire meant the Sasan Empire was in critical danger, and the Radiant Knights and the Temple Army had already lost control of the situation.

The Sasan Empire was not only the front line against the beastmen of the wilds, but it also possessed the last remaining expanse of red earth in the human kingdoms. If the Sasan Empire’s defenses fell, the consequences would be unimaginable. However, the Gambis Kingdom was separated from the Sasan Empire by the Warton Great Plains and the Dodor Kingdom. With such a large strategic buffer, the enthusiasm of the Gambis lords for sending aid was genuinely concerning.

With the battle situation at the front unknown, even if Gambis dispatched its first relief force within a month, it would be a reconnaissance force of scouts. By the time Gambis had ascertained the situation and mobilized a large army for a thousand-kilometer journey of reinforcement, the situation in the Sasan Empire might have already deteriorated beyond salvation.

Archbishop Saen was fraught with worry and spent sleepless nights. However, intelligence took time to travel. Besides praying to the Supreme Lord, he could only wait patiently for the special envoy from the Holy See.

The Church’s response was faster than anyone anticipated. Three days later, the special envoy from the Holy See entered Brinol Cathedral. It was none other than Patriarch Tamor, who had only recently left Gambis.

After three days and three nights of ceaseless travel across thousands of kilometers, Tamor’s eyes were still bright and sharp. His hair was impeccably combed, his clothes neatly pressed, but the signature cordial smile was gone from his face. His expression was exceptionally grave and solemn. Upon seeing King Edward Auguste, his first words were:

“Your Majesty, Brinol Cathedral has lit the red beacon fire. Will the Knights and Nobles of the Gambis Kingdom honor the Guardian’s Oath sworn here by their ancestors, the founders of the kingdom, to the supreme Lord of Radiance?”

Edward’s expression tensed. He drew the Sword of the Protector of the Kingdom and knelt before the pillar of Holy Light on the prayer platform, saying solemnly, “The King, Nobles, lords, and Vassals of Gambis have never forgotten the sacred oath sworn by their ancestors. Protection is our responsibility, protection is our right. When the red beacon fire is lit, the King, Nobles, lords, and Vassals of Gambis will fight to protect the human kingdoms!”

“May the supreme Lord of Radiance bless the Gambis Kingdom. May the Holy Light be with you, noble and loyal King of Gambis,” the clergy within the cathedral chanted in unison, devoutly making the sign of the holy symbol over their chests.

Resplendent Holy Light filled the great hall, creating a sacred and solemn atmosphere.

A gratified smile finally appeared on the Patriarch’s face. He helped Edward to his feet and nodded in praise, “Your Majesty, you are a worthy descendant of Auguste, a true sovereign of Gambis.”

Edward sheathed the Sword of the Protector of the Kingdom, blinked, and said excitedly, “I will personally lead… Ouch…”

A slender hand twisted his ear. Roland pulled the young king aside, a faint smile on her lips. “Little rascal, what were you going to personally lead?”

“Ow, that hurts… Roland, let go of me! I’m the King of Gambis, and I’m an adult now,” Edward protested loudly, grabbing Roland’s arm.

“Even if you reach the pinnacle of knighthood, you’re still my little brother,” Roland said with a grin, then kicked Edward’s bottom with just enough force to send him stumbling backward.

Marquess Golan cleared his throat and instructed the Deputy Director of the Household Department beside him, “Earl Folt, please escort the King back to Aerie Fortress.”

The earth Knight nodded, took Edward by the arm, and started walking out of the cathedral. As they went, he said, “Your Majesty, you have no offspring at present. The kingdom’s ancestors made the Guardian’s Oath, but the Church also has a provision: a king with no heir is not required to personally lead an expedition.”

Patriarch Tamor couldn’t help but sigh inwardly. The Church and the Knights did indeed have such an agreement, that a king who had not yet produced an heir was not required to lead troops into battle. He had no intention of inciting the young king, but for a High-ranked Knight of Gambis to emphasize this ancient agreement in his presence revealed Gambis’s attitude toward this total war.

Reserved and not entirely enthusiastic.

Sylvia’s eyes shifted as she asked, “Your Excellency the Patriarch, who is the enemy?”

Tamor collected himself and said bitterly, “It is the Centaurs.”

“Centaurs? Just Centaurs?”

His Highness Randall’s surprised voice was clearly heard by everyone, and they all looked at him strangely.

Was a Centaur invasion something to be… happy about?

Realizing his loss of composure, Victor breathed a sigh of relief while forcefully suppressing his delight. He salvaged the situation with a puzzled expression, “What I mean is, how can it be the Centaurs? A little over three years ago, the Radiant Knights were right here in Brinol Cathedral, displaying the head of the Legendary Centaur Orogar to the people of Gambis… The Centaur tribes bordering the Sasan Empire’s defensive line were crushed by the combined forces of the Radiant Knights and the Sasan lords. How did they reappear? To the point that Patriarch Flidis was forced to light the red beacon fire.”

Everyone’s gaze once again focused on Patriarch Tamor.

Tamor slowly shook his head and said in a heavy tone, “No one can give an accurate explanation right now, which is why the situation is especially critical.”

“The Sasan Empire’s eastern front originally had seven large Centaur tribes, with Orogar’s Blackhoof tribe being the most powerful. The Blackhoofs had ambitions to unify the other six Centaur tribes. The Radiant Knights and the Sasan lords spent more than a decade defeating the Black-hoof Centaurs, forcing them to migrate further east. Tournans joined forces with Testier and Patriarch Flidis to slay the Legendary Centaur. The other six Centaur tribes then began to fight amongst themselves to seize the territory of the Blackhoof tribe. Emperor Friedrich and the Sasan lords took the opportunity to shift the Empire’s eastern defensive line eastward, opening up two hundred forty thousand square kilometers of territory…”

After the Black-hoof Centaurs migrated, it was effectively the Sasan Empire and the other six Centaur tribes carving up their lands. The Centaur tribes fought each other, while the Sasan lords remained united. The main human forces pushed eastward, constructing a defensive line. Any Centaur tribe attempting to attack west would run into the human coalition’s defenses. A single Centaur tribe was no match for the Sasan lords and the Radiant Knights. After being bloodied against the human armies, they would retreat to fight with other Centaur tribes for territory.

It should be said that the Sasan Empire’s strategy of gradual advancement was very effective. Had they launched an all-out assault, it would have surely forced the six Centaur tribes to unite against them. In that case, the human coalition would have been the one sent scurrying with their tails between their legs. By advancing slowly and steadily, the Sasan Empire and the Radiant Knights adopted a strategy of defensive annihilation against Centaur raiders, but did not pursue those who fled. The pressure exerted by the human coalition was not enough to make the disorderly mob of Centaur tribes unite, but it was enough to deter any single tribe. The Centaur raiders near the human line were caught between a rock and a hard place. When they turned back to fight other Centaur tribes, a vacant buffer zone formed to the east of the human defensive line. While the Centaurs wore each other down with infighting, the Sasan Empire relocated refugees, settled tenant households, built fortifications, solidified their defenses, opened up farmland, and organized production. Over time, the overall strength of the two sides shifted, creating a “boiling the frog slowly” effect.

However, about a year and a half ago, things changed. The raiders from the six Centaur tribes withdrew one by one from the Blackhoof tribe’s former territory, seemingly ceding that vast expanse of red earth to the humans.

“This is highly unusual!”

Patriarch Tamor said, “The Centaurs’ sudden abandonment of the Blackhoof tribe’s former territory aroused the suspicion of Emperor Friedrich and Testier. They sent out a large number of scouts deep into the Northern Wildlands to investigate the movements of those six Centaur tribes… The results were unexpected. The Centaur tribes had withdrawn completely. Only the old, the weak, women, and children were left guarding their territories. The strong Centaur warriors had taken their slaves and all moved further east. The Sasan Empire’s army could have easily destroyed their nests, but the coalition did not do so…”

The main forces of the Centaur tribes were gathering further east, indicating that a powerful enemy had invaded from that direction, one capable of threatening their homelands. The Legendary Centaur Orogar had once forced the six tribes to unite against him. Did this mean another Legendary-rank King of Beastmen had appeared in the east? If the human coalition destroyed the Centaurs’ lairs, they would lose their homes and might surrender to the invader, turning their hatred towards the humans.

The Centaurs’ skill in field battles was unparalleled. Six Centaur tribes could delay an opponent for at least a decade.

The Sasan Empire’s best option was to let the Centaurs entangle themselves in a protracted war with their enemy, exhausting both sides’ strength, while they themselves seized the time to consolidate the newly pioneered lands, build more castles, and train more warriors.

Without the threat of Centaur raiders, the Sasan Empire’s pace of pioneering new lands suddenly quickened. The Sasan lords moved another two hundred thousand freemen into the Pioneer Fiefs, turning them all into tenant households, striving to build a stable defensive and production system within ten years.

However, the Centaurs did not give the Sasan Empire time to reforge their defensive line. Or rather, the Centaurs’ withdrawal was a trap targeting the human coalition from the very beginning.

“A little over ten days ago, hundreds of thousands of Centaur warriors launched a surprise attack on the Sasan Empire’s new defensive line. The Imperial scouts had sent an advance warning, but the Centaurs came too fiercely. The hundreds of thousands of tenant households in the Pioneer Fiefs couldn’t outrun the four-legged Centaurs. To cover the retreat of the populace, the Radiant Knights and the Imperial coalition held their ground on the still incomplete defensive line, attempting to pin down the Centaur warriors.”

Tamor paused, his expression grim as he continued, “No one expected that the Centaurs would surround but not attack, trapping the main coalition forces in three new cities. They did not pursue the retreating civilians… Seven days ago, the Centaur tribes’ slave armies arrived at the new defensive line. Goblins, Gnolls, Bear-monsters, Ogres, and Kobolds bypassed the line directly and entered the heartland of the Pioneer Fiefs. The main legions of the Temple Army and the Sasan lords were trapped in the cities by the main force of the Centaur tribes, able only to watch as countless beastman monsters poured into the Sasan Empire’s territory.”

“Three days ago, traces of Gnolls were discovered near the military garrisons protecting the Sasan Imperial Capital. Patriarch Flidis gave the order to light the red beacon fire.”

The prayer hall fell silent, the atmosphere becoming extremely oppressive. After a moment, Marquess Golan asked in a deep voice, “So you’re saying the Sasan Empire has been separated from its main legion at the front, and the Empire’s Gold Knights and the Radiant Knights are all trapped on the new front line?”

Tamor nodded silently.

Regent Williams Auguste pressed on, “How many men are trapped at the front by the main Centaur force?”

“Sixty thousand Temple Army soldiers, one hundred eighty thousand Sasan cavalry, the main force of the Radiant Knights, nine Gold Knights… Almost all of Sasan’s High-ranked Knights and Knights are trapped defending the new cities. The rear is mainly composed of the Sasan Empire’s female knights…”

Williams struck his fist into his palm and asked sullenly, “The old defensive line has no soldiers, does it?”

Tamor gave a bitter smile. “There are soldiers… They lack weapons and equipment. They can’t very well fight beastman monsters with their bare hands…”

“Ha! So the Sassans left all the supplies in the Pioneer Fiefs for the beastmen, their main army is trapped at the front, and the Imperial heartland is defenseless? They can’t even handle slave beastmen anymore?” Williams sneered, his expression mocking.

Tamor was silent for a moment before offering a defense, “Blaming the commanders at the front now is useless. Who could have imagined that the Centaurs could unite and employ such cunning schemes? The Centaurs’ mobility far surpasses that of human cavalry; when they launch an all-out assault, the common people have no time to react. Under the circumstances, Grand Commander Testier had no better choice. He couldn’t possibly have led the army out to fight field battles against hundreds of thousands of Centaur warriors, could he?”

“Testier’s and Emperor Friedrich’s supply lines have been cut…”

Roland sighed faintly, looking up to ask, “How long can they hold out?”

Tamor pursed his lips and forced out the words through gritted teeth, “Twelve months… no more than twelve months.”

Victor couldn’t help but ask, “How many monsters have poured into the Sasan Empire’s heartland?”

“Innumerable… it’s impossible to count. They’ve all scattered. Even Bronze-Halberd City, which borders the Warton Great Plains, has discovered large bands of Goblins.”

Tamor shook his head helplessly, adding, “A large Centaur tribe enslaves at least two hundred thousand monsters. The slave armies of six Centaur tribes would be no less than one million.”

Even if a million monsters lined up to be killed, it would take the Sasan female knights a year or two to slaughter them all. Moreover, there were plenty of ferociously intuitive monsters among the beastmen, and it was no easy task for a Knight to hunt down a ferocious beastman. These one million monsters were one million mouths to feed. They competed with humans for food, and they also ate humans, severely disrupting the Sasan Empire’s production and transportation. The Centaurs used their Goblin slaves to plunder Sasan’s food supplies to supplement the Centaur warriors besieging the human coalition. The human coalition’s supply lines were cut, but the Centaur and beastman coalition could seize supplies from within the Sasan Empire. The Radiant Knights, the Temple Army, and the main legions of the Sasan Empire were indeed in an extremely perilous situation.

No wonder Patriarch Flidis had to light the red beacon fire. If the Sasan Empire’s human coalition was heavily damaged or even annihilated by the Centaurs, the consequences would be dire.

Sylvia’s gaze was profound. She repeated the question Victor had first asked, word for word:

“Is it just Centaurs?”

The same question, but with a different meaning.

Centaurs were wild by nature, skilled in warfare. When they encountered a strong enemy, they could outrun them even if they couldn’t win. For other beastman tribes to conquer six Centaur tribes simultaneously was no easy feat. Orogar had the potential, but he was slain by a coalition of human experts before he could unify the surrounding Centaur tribes.

Historically, two famous Kings of Beastmen had conquered Centaur tribes.

The Legendary Ogre King—Vol’gan the City-Breaker!

The other was the Ender of the Golden Age, Tamer of White Apes—Grills, the King of Goblins.

One destroyed a human empire, the other brought about the end of the Knights’ Golden Age. Either case could be considered a colossal disaster for the human kingdoms.

Assuming no new King of Beastmen had arisen in the Northern Wildlands, why would Patriarch Tamor ride a Horned Wolf for thousands of kilometers to Blinor City to meet with the Guardians of Gambis in person? A messenger raven would have been much faster.

Patriarch Tamor shook his head. “We don’t know… We cannot be certain right now if there is a King of Beastmen behind the Centaurs. If there is, then the Centaur siege is merely its first probe against the human kingdoms. We must prepare for the worst, find it, and kill it.”

“Tournans is at the front. His Majesty Nachtigal cannot leave the Pope, but His Majesty Neo Wester has promised to lead the Unicorn Knights to aid the Sasan Empire. The Pontiff has already led the Templars to Bronze-Halberd City… As soon as we find the King of Beastmen, His Eminence Clement will perform the Great Divination.”

Tamor gave Sylvia a solemn salute and said earnestly, “Your Highness, I implore you to honor the ancient Guardian’s Oath, travel to the Sasan Empire, and strike down the King of Beastmen.”

Victor’s eyes instantly turned cold. Before he could speak, Williams interjected, “My lord Patriarch, Gambis has four Highnesses. Who will go to aid the Sasan Empire and who will remain to guard the Gambis Kingdom? We will hold a Guardian’s council immediately, and we will have a result soon.” He paused, holding up three fingers. “Three days. Within three days, the Guardians of all the great families of Gambis will gather in Blinor City, and we will present a plan to support the Sasan Empire. I guarantee that within a month, the first elite force from Gambis will set out for the Sasan Empire.”

Tamor nodded and said succinctly, “As soon as possible.”

The two parties exchanged salutes, and the Highnesses of Gambis turned to leave Brinol Cathedral. Victor had not yet stepped off the dais when Cardinal Saen hurried after him.

“Your Highness Randell, please wait a moment.”

He led Victor aside and whispered, “Your Highness, my Tutor Tamor just told me that Patriarch Flidis has not yet ordered an investigation into how many tenant Commoners in the Sasan Empire’s Pioneer Fiefs were slaughtered by the savage beastmen… However, someone in the Monastery Council of Elders is already preparing to file a motion to impeach Pope Clement.”

The dark-gold pupils contracted instantly. Victor nodded slightly and, without a word, turned to walk back toward Sylvia and the others.

Chapter 600: Full of Doubts

“To the east of the Sasan Empire lie seven large Centaur tribes. Now that they have united to launch an all-out offensive against the Sasan Empire, we can collectively refer to them as the West Parigdon Centaur Khanate. This is because they are located in the western part of the Northern Wildlands, bordering the Sasan Empire, and a section of the Parigton River runs through their territory. For short, we can call them the Westdon Khanate.”

In the military hall of Aerie Fortress, the Guardians gathered around a large table, listening to a military intelligence analysis from the Ministry of Military Affairs.

A simple, large-scale map was spread across the table. The Silver Knight giving the briefing had the same brown hair as Marquess Golan, his features as sharp as a sculpture, his bearing valiant, and his voice resonant. He was Earl Wengel Auguste, the only son of Marquess Golan and Princess Ingénierie Auguste, the Vice-Commander of the kingdom’s Ministry of Military Affairs, and the vice-commander of the Glory Knights.

Wengel, holding a thin pointer, marked out an area on the large map. He tapped it and said, “According to the information we have, the territory of the Westdon Khanate is roughly the same size as the Sasan Empire. Its overall national strength is far from a match for Sasan, but its military mobilization capacity is several times that of the Sasan Empire… Beastmen are naturally strong, and among the Centaurs, the entire population is a standing army. Male Centaur warriors are skilled with javelins and can hit targets within two hundred twenty meters with heavy obsidian javelins. Female Centaurs are all exceptional mounted archers, normally responsible for guarding beastmen slaves and capable of suppressing slave rebellions. Excluding the old, weak, and young who cannot fight, the Westdon Khanate can, when necessary, mobilize four hundred thousand male and female Centaur warriors at once. Including their servant armies, the total force would be at least a million strong.”

“However, the Westdon Khanate’s war potential is a far cry from the Sasan Empire’s.”

Wengel paused, then looked up and said, “Monsterology records state that Centaurs have a peculiar physique and extremely poor self-sufficient production capacity, relying heavily on Goblin and Kobold slaves. One adult Centaur warrior requires fifteen Goblins to support. Goblin and Kobold slaves are of paramount importance to the Westdon Centaurs. If their Goblin servant armies suffer too many losses, the decline of the Westdon Khanate will be inevitable. In reality, the beastmen’s material storage and transport efficiency are very low. Their logistical capabilities are insufficient to sustain an all-out war.”

“Unless they are forced into it!”

“The combined forces of the Sasan Empire and the Radiant Knights are trapped on the front line, and their supplies can last for twelve months. I doubt the main force of the Westdon Khanate’s Centaurs can sustain a twelve-month siege.” Wengel further explained, “With the Westdon Khanate’s beastmen slaves all mobilized, production in their rear will surely be severely affected. Even if they penetrate deep into Sasan territory to plunder human resources to supply their warriors on the front, the organizational structure of the beastmen slaves is extremely poor. The longer the war drags on, the more beastmen slaves will flee, and the more difficult supplying the front will become. The Westdon Khanate’s Centaurs cannot sustain a twelve-month siege. The moment they divide their forces to forage for food and try to round up their slaves will be the moment for the Imperial allied forces to counterattack.”

“My colleagues and I cannot see any chance of victory for the Westdon Khanate. An all-out war is fundamentally unsuited to the Centaur race. Their high mobility and surprise attack advantages have been completely squandered.” Wengel shook his head in confusion and continued, “One thing is certain: the Sasan Empire will suffer unprecedented damage… while the Westdon Khanate, having lost a great number of its slaves, will not be far from its own ruin.”

“For the Westdon Khanate to adopt such a mutually destructive strategy is simply suicidal. The Centaurs must have been forced to do this… or rather, the Centaurs of the Westdon Khanate have already become slaves to the King of Beastmen and have no choice but to act as the vanguard for a grand beastman army invading the human kingdoms.”

Wengel finally concluded, “Based on the current intelligence, our judgment aligns with Patriarch Flidis’s. The Westdon Khanate’s Centaurs are merely the first wave of attacks against the human kingdoms. Behind them lies the grand army of a King of Beastmen.”

Almost everyone now believed that the Westdon Centaurs had been conquered by some King of Beastmen. Otherwise, Flidis would not have issued a red beacon fire alert of the highest level.

Williams slammed the table and said scornfully, “The Radiant Knights displaying Orogar’s head is truly ironic! If the Legendary Centaur were still alive, the Westdon Khanate’s Centaurs wouldn’t have surrendered to a new master after resisting for only a year.” He paused, his mocking expression fading, and asked seriously, “Not all Legendary beastmen can become a King of Beastmen, and Centaurs are one of the most difficult beastman races to tame. For the Westdon Khanate’s Centaur warriors to rush to the easternmost edge of their territory to resist a supposed invader, only to surrender to a new master in less than a year while maintaining their full military strength, and then to launch a self-mutilating attack on the human defensive line… don’t you find that exceedingly strange?”

“Did those Centaurs even resist the so-called invaders? Is there even a so-called King of Beastmen?”

The Regent voiced the question lingering in everyone’s mind. They all fell silent. After a moment, Marquess Golan spoke up, “Perhaps there is a King of Beastmen, perhaps not. But we cannot put the fate of the human kingdoms on a gambling table and bet that there isn’t.”

“If there is a King of Beastmen, that would be the worst possible outcome. It was able to subjugate the wild Centaurs without bloodshed in under a year and command them to launch a nearly suicidal, all-out offensive against the Sasan Empire… What does this truly mean? I don’t need to elaborate; everyone knows the gravity of the consequences.”

“Assuming there is no King of Beastmen, then to the east of the Westdon Khanate, there is at least one Legendary-rank beastman great chieftain.”

Marquess Golan took the thin wooden pointer from his son’s hand, pointed to the eastern side of the Sasan Empire on the map, and moved it further east, saying, “The Centaurs of the Westdon Khanate, as well as their eastern neighbors, are all located on the western fringe of the Northern Wildlands. This position is not ideal for beastmen. Powerful beastman tribes should occupy the central regions of the Northern Wildlands, which are not only rich in resources but also far from the threat of the human kingdoms.”

“If Orogar were still alive and had unified the Centaur tribes of the Westdon Khanate, what would he do?”

Wengel answered, “Orogar would lead the Centaur army eastward, defeating the beastman tribes along the way, enslaving them, until he reached the central region of the Northern Wildlands and ascended to the throne of the King of Beastmen.”

Golan nodded, moving the pointer back to the Sasan Empire’s defensive line. “Before they could begin their eastern conquest, they would have to eliminate the threat at their back—the threat from the Sasan Empire. This is why the Radiant Knights had to crush the Blackhoof tribe and kill the great Centaur Orogar. The beastman great chieftain to the east of the Westdon Khanate faces the same problem, only its threat comes from the Westdon Khanate’s Centaurs.”

Williams nodded. “If His Highness Golan’s speculation is correct, then the Legendary beastman great chieftain would demand that the Westdon Khanate’s Centaurs attack the Sasan Empire’s defensive line, causing both sides to suffer heavy losses and leaving them powerless to threaten his own lair. Otherwise, he would conquer the Westdon Khanate first. The Westdon Centaurs would either be beaten into submission and become slaves before attacking the Sasan Empire, or they would attack the Sasan Empire’s defensive line first to neutralize the threat from their rear and avoid the fate of being enslaved by the beastman chieftain.”

“In other words, once the Sasan Empire clears out the beastman monsters that have invaded their heartland and re-establishes supply lines to the allied forces, the Westdon Centaurs will choose to retreat to their lair and engage the human allied forces in field battles.”

The Regent smiled, his expression relaxed. “That would be the best outcome.”

“Why are you all using human logic to fathom the thoughts of stupid beastmen?” Princess Roland was half-sprawled on the table, looking at the map, her voice light and airy. “Perhaps the Westdon Centaurs thought they could win… In my view, their offensive strategy is terrifyingly brilliant. They first withdrew from the territory of the Blackhoof tribe, luring the human allied forces into abandoning their steady, nibbling tactics. This forced them to mobilize vast amounts of supplies and people from the rear to hastily construct a new defensive line, leaving the old defensive line vulnerable. Then, before the human army could establish a firm foothold, they concentrated their forces and launched a long-range raid on the human Pioneer Fief, catching the Imperial allied forces completely off guard. And yet, when faced with Testier’s bait, they somehow restrained their desire to hunt and kill. They didn’t pursue the fleeing tenant commoners deep into the rear. Instead, they trapped the human armies in three new cities, completely thwarting Testier’s plan to lure the enemy deep and cut off their retreat…”

The official story, embellished by the Church, was that the main cavalry forces of the Radiant Knights and the Sasan Empire had chosen to hold their incomplete defensive line to cover the retreat of the tenant households and commoners, which led to them being trapped in the new cities by the Centaur army and having their supply lines cut.

The cruelty of war is not only directed at the enemy but also at oneself.

With the skin gone, what can the hair attach to? If the main force of the human allied army was annihilated, where could the tenant commoners possibly run?

Once a High-ranked Knight becomes rational, they are almost ruthless. Grand Commander Testier and Emperor Friedrich knew very well that they could not engage hundreds of thousands of Centaurs in a mobile war of annihilation. They used the tenant commoners as bait, hoping to make the Centaur army disperse in pursuit, drawing them deep into the Sasan Empire’s heartland in isolated groups. Although the old defensive line behind the Pioneer Fief was undermanned and short on arrows and crossbow bolts, its defensive system was intact. Fortresses, castles, camps, and outposts were connected by roads, forming a three-dimensional defensive network with trenches and low walls. Centaurs couldn’t climb walls or ladders. Their long-range raid was conducted without sufficient supplies, and their command system was chaotic. Once trapped in the human defensive network, they could easily be divided, surrounded, and eliminated one by one by the war beast cavalry attacking from the rear. The defenders of the old defensive line lacked military equipment and were few in number, so they could not support the military operations of the Radiant Knights and the war beast cavalry, but they were still capable of opening and closing gates. Once the Sasan Empire’s main cavalry took control of these defenses, the entire network would be activated, assisting the war beast cavalry in annihilating the roaming Centaur raiders. At that point, the undersupplied Centaur army would have a hard time retreating, and even if they weren’t completely wiped out, they would surely suffer a devastating blow.

Yet, the Centaurs, who adored the hunt, hadn’t fallen for the bait of unarmed, fleeing tenant commoners!?

Were these still the wild and untamable Centaurs?

“The Centaurs didn’t fall for the trap, and they trapped the main force of the human allied army in the three new cities. And that’s not all!”

Roland raised her voice, “We thought the Westdon Centaurs would summon their Goblin slaves to establish supply lines and assist in the siege of the human allied forces. But their actions were once again astonishing. They pinned down the main force of the human army and drove millions of beastmen slaves deep into the Sasan Empire’s poorly defended heartland to plunder and destroy, cutting the link between the front line of the Pioneer Fief and the Empire’s rear, turning the human allied army into an isolated force.”

“Tsk, tsk, the Westdon Centaurs lured the enemy, launched a long-range raid, surrounded without attacking, cut off enemy reinforcements, and sustained war with war… I find their grasp of tactical opportunities too brilliant, too precise.” Roland clicked her tongue in admiration, then her tone shifted. “If it were me, I would never scatter my supply train into the enemy’s rear heartland when the situation is unclear!”

“How did they know that the Sasan Empire’s heartland was so empty of troops?”

Victor’s voice was cool as he said, “It’s as if someone tipped them off.”

“Who tipped off the Centaurs, leading them into an all-out war with no chance of victory?” Roland straightened up, her gaze turning to Victor’s handsome, refined face, her emerald eyes like bottomless, dark pools.

Sylvia let out a light laugh and chimed in, “Perhaps it wasn’t a person?”

Not a person?

The four Protectors of the Kingdom exchanged glances, their expressions unusually calm. Williams seemed to have an epiphany and fell into silent contemplation. Wengel, not yet having reached the realm of an Earth Knight, lacked understanding of mysterious, unknown things. He nodded and said, “Hobgoblins are very intelligent. That Legendary beastman chieftain might be a Hobgoblin. It’s said that Goblin chieftains are skilled at animal taming and can enslave powerful beasts and beastmen. If it just tamed some birds, it could have scouted the true state of the human defensive line… Perhaps it used its own animal taming abilities to influence the Centaurs, pushing the Westdon Khanate into an all-out war with the human empire. But it didn’t know that behind the Sasan Empire stands the entirety of the human kingdoms. Once those beastmen slaves deep in Sasan’s heartland are wiped out by human reinforcements, they will scatter in all directions, and the Centaurs will have no way of rounding them up. The Westdon Centaurs’ plan to use slaves to plunder human resources and supply the front line will naturally fail.”

“We just need to dispatch an army to take over the Sasan Empire’s defensive facilities and mop up the scattered beastmen slaves. The main force of the Westdon Khanate’s Centaurs will surely be the first to break.”

Wengel then added worriedly, “The Goblin king doesn’t have any giant white apes, does he? If he does, that would be terrible…”

Roland rolled her eyes beautifully and retorted, “What’s the use of wild guesses? Why don’t we go and see for ourselves? Who are you planning to send? I’m definitely going, anyway.” As she spoke, she bared her small canine teeth, her fierce gaze sweeping over the faces of Williams and Marquess Golan.

“Don’t even think about stopping me!”

“Wengel is willing to serve you, Commander!” The vice-commander of the Glory Knights, his delight obvious, stood ramrod straight and declared loudly, “The Glory Knights are ready and can depart at any time! Please give the order, Commander!”

Marquess Golan shot his youngest son a glare and then sternly chided Roland, “Stop this nonsense! I will lead the Swift Dragon Knights to the Sasan Empire.”

“Old man, what are you going for?” Roland slammed the table with a bang and retorted rudely, “You’re an Earth Knight. Can you outrun a Gold-rank Centaur? Are you going all that way just to get yourself killed?”

The princess’s words were harsh, but they pointed to the tactics Gambis’s aid force would have to adopt. Gold Knights with an affinity for the earth element were immune to knockback and sinking effects, making them excellent at frontal assaults. While they weren’t slow, they were just that—not slow. They could never outrun a Gold-rank Centaur. If Golan led the army, and they encountered elite Centaurs, he wouldn’t be able to escape, and the Swift Dragon Knights wouldn’t flee either, forcing them into a grueling assault. The Raging Wave Knightess excelled at skirmishing. If Roland led the army, they would employ guerrilla tactics, which would better preserve the strength of the Gambis aid force.

In any case, the reinforcement armies of the human kingdoms were not short on Gold Knights with an affinity for the earth element. Let them handle the frontal assaults.

Marquess Golan gave Roland a deep look and said no more.

Williams, looking conflicted, began, “I…”

“You what? You want to lead men to their deaths too?” The Princess Royal crossed her arms, casting a sidelong glance at her uncle, her single sentence leaving the Regent utterly deflated.

“But the other kingdoms are sending their kings to lead the armies personally…” he said, unwilling to concede.

Sylvia smiled faintly and said, “Williams, your hope of advancing to Gold rank does not lie on the battlefield.”

Williams fell silent, though his heart grew even more conflicted. Fighting the Centaurs was undoubtedly dangerous, but answering the call of the red smoke beacon was a romance unique to Knights. The pure bloodline of the Auguste family had a free and romantic Nature. He loved too many things and had yet to define a clear Path to challenge the Gold realm. Leading an army into battle might just be the opportunity he needed.

Wengel Auguste’s eyes, however, lit up, and his posture became even more erect.

Roland’s eyes widened as she snapped, “You’re staying behind too.”

The expression of the Glory Knights’ vice-commander immediately fell, and he looked to his father for help.

Golan ignored his son’s pleading gaze and asked Victor, “What does Your Highness think?”

“I’ve only just taken my seat as a Guardian, and something this major happens…” Victor gave a self-deprecating laugh, then said seriously, “I must remind everyone that Gambis is also on the front line—the front line against the Ant-men. And the Ant-men are our great hidden danger… It has been nine years since the last Ant-man tide. No one can be certain when the next Ant-man plague will erupt. Will the Ant-man Empress make a move herself? I hope there is no necessary connection between the disaster in the Sasan Empire and the Ant-men, but the Church is preparing to withdraw half of Gambis’s clergy to support the Sasan Empire. And who knows how long the war to aid the Sasan Empire will last? We must preserve most of our strength to deal with the threat of the Ant-men.”

Victor’s gaze swept across the room as he said with a grim expression, “The Westdon Centaurs’ raid on the Sasan Empire’s Pioneer Fief is full of doubts… but I am certain of one thing: this is not just an all-out war to protect the human kingdoms, it is also a war to defend the tenant system! If Gambis cannot implement the tenant system, cannot form mercenary legions, cannot promote the fictitious enfeoffment system, with what shall we achieve our expansion south of the river?”

His chilling gaze fell upon Williams as Victor slowly said, “Your Highness Auguste, those who remain to guard Gambis will not have an easy task. We must prove to the lords and the clergy that with the tenant system, Gambis can continuously send mercenary legions to the front line. Even if there truly is a King of Beastmen behind the Westdon Centaurs, not only can we defeat it, we can also hold the defensive line at the Centaur Hills!”

Williams’s expression turned solemn as he said gravely, “I understand.”

Sylvia’s eyes glinted, and she nodded. “Marquess Golan and I will stay to guard Gambis. Princess Roland and His Highness Randall will lead the army to support the Sasan defensive line.”

Roland glanced at Victor and said in a clear, crisp voice, “I agree… As the Supreme Military Commander of Aerie Fortress, I order that from this moment, the Glory Knights and the Swift Dragon Knights are merged. Marquess Golan Auguste will assume the position of Commander of the Glory Knights and the position of Supreme Military Commander of Aerie Fortress. I will lead one hundred Glory Knights and three hundred elite cavalry, departing from Minsk Fortress in thirty days for the Sasan Empire front to fight the beastman invaders. I request that the great families dispatch elite knight squads to assemble at Minsk Fortress and march with me.”

“Tutor Golan, this is the last order I will issue to the Ministry of Military Affairs. You won’t veto my will, will you?” Roland asked Marquess Golan with a grin.

A gratified smile appeared on Golan’s face. He nodded and said, “The position of Commander of the Glory Knights will still be yours when you return in triumph.” He paused, his smile vanishing as he said seriously, “In my capacity as the Supreme Military Commander of Aerie Fortress, I appoint Her Highness Roland Auguste as the Chief Commander of the Gambis aid force, with authority over all Gambis aid force commanders except His Highness Randall. I request that the Regent of Gambis, His Highness Williams Auguste, issue a kingdom-wide Call to Arms, summoning the armies of the various families to assemble at Minsk Fortress.”

“Fifty days from now, the first main reinforcement force from Gambis will depart for the rendezvous point designated by the Church, Whitewater Fortress in the Dodor Kingdom. Aerie Fortress will dispatch ten thousand elite cavalry, and the reinforcements from the great families shall be no less than two thousand cavalry each, for a total of twenty thousand.”

Williams took out a war decree scroll, leaned over the table, and filled in the relevant details with a goose quill. He took the Regent’s seal, coated it with ink paste, and stamped it heavily on the parchment scroll. He then passed the war decree to Sylvia for her to look over.

“We have no objection.”

Sylvia and Victor each used their Guardian seals to leave their own marks on the decree.

Williams picked up the now-effective war decree and shook his head with a laugh. “We’re only sending twenty thousand cavalry. I suspect the Church won’t be pleased.”

“Gambis is also sending a Legendary-rank Highness and the strongest Gold-rank female knight of this era.” Roland’s lips curled up in a smug smile, and she quickly added, “Sylvia doesn’t count as a Gold-rank female knight.”

Victor paid no mind to Roland’s self-praise and said with double meaning, “We should provide as much leather armor and weaponry as we can to arm the Sasan militia and mercenary legions. They are the main force in this war.”

The Regent laughed heartily. “Well said. We’ll do our part.”

Victor and Sylvia left the military hall, boarded a carriage, and headed for the Duke of York’s residence.

They were silent for the entire journey. Upon reaching the private lounge in the residence, Sylvia dismissed the attendants and complained to Victor, “Darling, for us, the prestigious Queen’s family of Gambis, to only be able to send two thousand cavalry, just like Wellington and Nim… it’s truly embarrassing.”

Victor replied distractedly, “Actually, Wellington and the others could send more cavalry. Marquess Golan was saving face for you.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Victor realized his mistake. As expected, Sylvia’s slender, willow-like brows shot up. Her jade hands pinched the soft flesh on his ribs as she corrected him through gritted teeth, “He was saving face for us!”

“Er… yes, for us,” Victor quickly remedied. “The other families’ cavalry can’t compare to the Highness of the Centaur Hills.”

Elite cavalry couldn’t be trained in just a year or two. The York family’s Fanged Legion had lost nearly half its strength in the first Ant-man war. Although it had been replenished to a size of four thousand five hundred, the quality of the soldiers had invariably suffered. Now, the Centaur Hills had just begun promoting the level one Source Blood Secret Art, and the family’s army was in a lean period.

Sylvia, however, said imperiously, “I don’t care. The Centaur Hills must mobilize an additional three thousand mercenary soldiers. If they can’t ride horses, they will crawl to the Sasan Empire for me!”

Victor was taken aback for a moment, then asked, “You want to use the Centaurs and beastmen slaves to temper the mercenary legion?”

Sylvia smiled faintly. “If they don’t dare to fight beastmen, what’s the use of keeping them? Certain people in the Monastery Council of Elders will probably slander our tenant system even more.”

Victor was silent for two seconds, then frowned. “I have a strange feeling that this all-out war initiated by the Westdon Centaurs seems to be aimed at destroying my tenant system.”

Sylvia’s azure eyes deepened as she said calmly, “Whether it’s a strange feeling or not is unimportant… If this war is lost, the tenant system will be finished.”

“And the measure of victory or defeat in this war doesn’t lie in defeating the Centaur invaders, but solely in whether or not the Sasan Empire experiences a tide of refugees.”

Chapter 601: The Opportunity of War

“In large-scale warfare, logistics is king. Even with the current production and transportation systems of the human kingdoms, it would be difficult to sustain a protracted, large-scale combined arms operation.

“Just how foolish must the Westdon Centaurs be to abandon their traditional, most proficient tactics and fight a protracted war of attrition with humans, especially when their supply situation is so dire? And to top it all off, they threw their crucial logistics forces into the enemy’s deep rear. Those beastman slaves have no loyalty to speak of; they’ll flee at a moment’s notice. How many of them would actually plunder human resources to supply the centaur army on the front lines?

“The centaurs’ unexpected change in tactics had indeed caught the human coalition forces off guard. The Church’s upper echelon and the great lords generally believed that if the Westdon Khanate was not seeking its own demise, it was either forced by some external pressure into a war of attrition with the human coalition, or it had massive beastmen reinforcements coming up from behind.

“It was absolutely necessary for Father Flidis to have lit the red beacon fire.

“One thing was certain: the large-scale invasion of beastman slaves into the heartland of the Sasan Empire would bring destruction and… panic to the human empire.

“Countless tenant commoners in the Pioneer Fiefs had died or been injured, and someone had to be held responsible. The Church had numerous monastic factions, and the priests of every major monastery vied for a place in the Holy See’s Curia and a seat on the Council. It was hardly surprising that some within the Monastery Council of Elders would seize the opportunity to point their spears at Pope Clement.

“To impeach the Pope, they would first have to question the tenant system he championed.

“This was unacceptable to the secular great lords, the Radiant Knights, and the three Patriarchs.

“Putting aside the political infighting among the Church’s priests, and looking purely at the current state of the human kingdoms, the foundational beneficiary group of the tenant system was still very weak, whereas the refugee population under the old vassalage system had a very deep-rooted history. The secular lords and the powerful figures within the Church hoped to use the tenant system to encourage the refugee population to settle down, defend the land, and expand the territory. However, this depended on a shift in the refugees’ own mindset, something that could not be changed by the will of Paladins and lords alone.

“For centuries, refugees had grown accustomed to fleeing from war and beastmen. When the Church lit the red beacon fire and beastly monsters appeared near the cities, panic spread like a plague through the hearts of the urban refugees, and it was nearly impossible to contain.

“The lords of the Sasan Empire were the most ardent supporters of the tenant system. They were the first to legally classify refugee camps as bandit lairs. Some of the refugees in the Sasan Empire became tenants of the lords, while others flocked to the major towns, becoming Urban Freemen that the lords could recruit at any time.

“Take Bronze-Halberd City, the Sasan Empire’s main city connecting to the Warton Great Plains. It was already overflowing with people, its urban refugee population approaching three hundred thousand—even more than the Urban Freemen in the Royal Capital of Gambis. The Church was, of course, delighted. Concentrating believers in large cities not only greatly increased the influence of the clergy, but also made it very convenient for its churches’ faith arrays to harvest the power of faith. However, such a large population put immense pressure on the city’s infrastructure. Bronze-Halberd City had repeatedly expanded its outer district to house the Urban Freemen, but the housing there was certainly crude, and protective city walls were out of the question. Without walls to stop them, the Urban Freemen could leave whenever they pleased, and the city guards couldn’t stop them even if they tried.

“When signs of beastman activity were discovered on the outskirts of Bronze-Halberd City, the first thought of the panicked Urban Freemen was to flee—to cross the Warton Great Plains and escape to the southern kingdoms. The lower-ranking priests of Bronze-Halberd City faced a dilemma: should they organize the freemen to migrate to the safety of the southern kingdoms, or persuade them to stay?

“In truth, there was nothing they could do.

“With nearly a million beastman slaves running rampant through the heartland of the Sasan Empire, the lords had no spare troops to escort the freemen in a retreat. If the priests requested that Bronze-Halberd City open its granaries and let the refugees take food to flee on their own, it would inevitably slow their migration. Refugees burdened with families and food would become even easier targets for beastman bandits, and both the people and the grain would likely end up as supplies for the centaur army.

“The helpless lower-ranking priests would inevitably begin to question the decisions of the lords, fathers, bishops, Paladins, and Patriarchs, and to question the rationality of the tenant system itself.

“An unorganized mass migration without supplies would be an absolute disaster. The survivors would spread exaggerated rumors brewed from panic, pain, resentment, and misery to the Urban Freemen and lower-ranking clergy of the southern kingdoms.

“The Titled nobles could ignore the feelings and words of the refugees, but could the priests, whose conviction was the Redemption of the people, forbid the refugees from crying out and praying to the Lord of Radiance?

“The common folk only cared about their immediate, personal interests. They didn’t care about the greater significance of the tenant system for the human kingdoms. Moreover, the Church was not lacking in opportunists and careerists who would secretly add fuel to the fire. Combined with the effects of panic and rumors on the refugees, the fragile tenant system would lose the support and trust of the populace.

“If Pope Clement were to fall, it would mark the Church’s political rejection of the tenant system.

“Lords could ignore the Church’s ruling and continue to implement the tenant system, but when the tenants of the Pioneer Fiefs faced danger, they would, with the help of the priests, choose to flee.

“The expansion of Gambis was heavily dependent on the tenant system. The tide of refugees could not be allowed to happen, or at the very least, the freemen of the Sasan Empire had to be prevented from becoming refugees in the southern kingdoms.

“A thought stirred in Victor’s mind. He looked into Sylvia’s clear, azure eyes and asked, “Are we sending three thousand mercenary soldiers to the Sasan Empire to help the lord of Bronze-Halberd City maintain order among the Urban Freemen? Does that include preventing them from migrating to the southern kingdoms?”

“Sylvia nodded and said with a smile, “No one can stop the Urban Freemen from fleeing war, but an organized migration is not a tide of refugees, especially when the ones organizing it are the mercenary legions that rely on the tenant system.”

“Flidis and Testier’s most urgent task right now is to preserve the strength of the Radiant Knights and the position of the Paladins within the Church. To that end, they wouldn’t hesitate to make Clement the scapegoat… but I believe that if they had a choice, they wouldn’t abandon the tenant system either.”

““So, we must give them a choice.”

“Pulling Victor down to sit on the sofa, Sylvia explained in detail, “Bronze-Halberd City is the southern gateway of the Sasan Empire. All refugees wishing to flee the war must pass through it. If our mercenary legion controls the southward route of the Sasan refugees, we control the narrative… Organizing the populace to flee from danger is本来就 a responsibility of lords and clergy. This will become the new normal in the pioneer wars of the future. In the past, the norm was for lords and clergy to focus all their efforts on preparing for war and resisting the beastman threat, leaving them with no capacity to manage the migration of the people, who were left to flee the warzones on their own. Now, having a mercenary legion organize the populace’s retreat to the rear is more than enough to prove the superiority of the tenant system. We are going to make those old fellows from the monasteries shut their mouths!”

““Three thousand mercenary soldiers can’t actually do much, but besides our Centaur Hills mercenary legion, no other lord has built a true mercenary legion yet. The three thousand soldiers from the Centaur Hills are just a token force. By the time they reach faraway Bronze-Halberd City, it will be too late. However, we still have Sophia, and The Golden Company… Isn’t your Bear Company on the Warton Great Plains as well?”

“Understanding dawned on Victor, his eyes gradually brightening as he said with excitement, “This is a disaster, but also an opportunity. The Bear Company and The Golden Company are not officially connected to us, so having them directly masquerade as the Centaur Hills’ mercenaries could draw criticism. Our mercenary soldiers must reach the holy cities on the Warton Great Plains within four months; we’ll treat it as a forced march training exercise. Once the mercenary legion arrives at Bronze-Halberd City and assists the priests of the Sasan Empire in arranging the southward retreat of the freemen, they can gain a certain amount of say and recruit useful talent for the Centaur Hills… That’s just one aspect. The Golden Company’s trade routes on the Warton Great Plains can also be solidified. Most importantly, we must use this opportunity to bind Pope Clement’s interests to The Golden Company…”

““I’ll go talk to Sophia right now!” Victor started to stand but was stopped by a soft, slender hand on his shoulder.

“Sylvia shook her head, her expression gentle. Her red lips parted as she spoke softly, “My dear, Sophia is not your vassal. Don’t tell her how to do her job. She can handle the relevant issues… I only have one request for her: bring all the grain and all the refugees that meet our needs from the Sasan Empire to the Centaur Hills. Don’t let Dodor and Naville get there first.”

““…I can already see Sophia making a fortune from this war.” Victor shook his head with a chuckle, stood up, and said, “I’m going to say goodbye to Trisley, Sophia, and Catherine now… I had originally planned to wait for my daughter to be born, but it seems I won’t have the chance…”

“Sylvia and her husband were on the same wavelength. She lifted her beautiful face and asked, “Are you planning to return to the Centaur Hills?”

““Yes.” Victor nodded and said solemnly, “There are some things I need to go back and handle personally. Then I’ll lead my personal guard directly to Minsk Fortress to rendezvous with Roland.”

“Sylvia stood, took a coat from the coat rack, and gently helped Victor put it on. “My dear, Father Miller’s domain is different from ours. I suggest you don’t disturb him. We need to solve the many mysteries of the centaur’s surprise attack on the Sasan Pioneer Fiefs ourselves.”

“Sylvia believed in Miller’s will to fight against evil entities, but she believed more in her own strength. She was unwilling to be influenced by a God-favored person and alter her own decisions.

“How could a top-ranking clergyman whose conviction was the redemption of humanity possibly stand completely on a lord’s side? Blindly trusting his prophecies could very well lead one into a trap.

“Victor held the same wariness toward Father Miller, but he was already deeply entangled and was more interested in using Father Miller to probe the true nature of extraordinary beings.

““I won’t seek out Father Miller this time,” Victor agreed with a nod. “Next month, Lorrin, the Potion Master from Aerie Fortress, will be bringing his people to live in the Randell Fief for an extended period. I must make some arrangements in advance.”

“Sylvia straightened Victor’s collar and said with a smile, “My dear, the secret knights and Mystic Warriors of Rose Manor are yours to command as you please. Let them also have the honor of fighting alongside His Highness Randell.”

““The York family’s strength is my strength. I won’t refuse your offer,” Victor said with a smiling nod.

“Giving Victor a light hug, Sylvia gazed into his dark gold eyes, took his hand, and said softly, “My love, I never send my knights on suicide missions. Do you know the other meaning of that sentence?”

“Before her lover could answer, she said seriously, “As someone of noble birth, you must never sacrifice yourself for your subordinates.”

““With your strength, there are very few beings in this world who could keep you from leaving, unless you yourself are unwilling to go… Take Narsen, take Caligula, take your Sworn Knight Charlotte, take your little attendant knight, take the secret knights of Rose Manor… They are His Highness Randell’s eyes, ears, and claws, his shields and swords… Even if they all die, you must return to me safe and sound… You must always remember, I am waiting for you.”

“Victor finally understood why Sylvia had brought up the mercenary legion and the tenant system. She hoped to keep her man busy in Bronze-Halberd City, thereby keeping him away from the front lines of the war.

“Kissing Sylvia’s cherry lips, Victor said solemnly, “I will return safe and sound. I promise you.”

Chapter 602: Level Up Before Fighting Monsters

Victor and Caligula left the city overnight. After getting their bearings, they chose to travel in a straight line where there were no roads. Traversing mountains and wading through rivers, they arrived at Silver Moon Manor in the Randell Fief the next afternoon.

Nicole, the sisters Elina and Lilia, were exceptionally thrilled by his sudden return. Lilia, in particular, was so moved that tears streamed down her face like pearls. Since their marriage, they had spent more time apart than together. This time, the Randell church had lit the red beacon fire, and as a Highness of Gambis, Victor was about to head to the distant Sasan Empire to fight the Centaur armies. He might be gone for several years. Lilia was not only worried for her husband’s safety but also feared that her own beauty would fade, and she would no longer be able to stay by his side.

Victor offered some simple words of comfort to Nicole and his three personal handmaidens, assuring them he would spend a few days with them in Laketon before heading to the assembly point at Minsk Fortress. Only then did the ladies calm down and go to the kitchen together to prepare dinner for their husband with their own hands.

While Nicole and the others were preparing the evening banquet, Victor donned a hooded cloak and went alone to the Laketon church to find Father Miller.

Compared to the tense atmosphere in the royal capital of Blinor, the impact of the red smoke beacon fire on Laketon was significantly lighter. After all, this was the southernmost tip of the human kingdoms, several thousand kilometers from the war front in the Sasan Empire—a true rear area. Moreover, the tenant system in the Randell Fief was already quite well-established, and the Administrative Hall’s control over the fief was impressively strict. Nearly every tenant household was registered, and the lord could even check the basic information of any tenant family at any time, as well as the aid status of every newborn and elderly person.

The Randall family’s system of registered subjects and aid played a crucial role in appeasing the populace and uniting their hearts.

The entire town of Laketon operated like an efficient machine; everyone continued with their usual tasks. The Thorium ore inner wall was nearing completion; the giant brick kiln still billowed with thick smoke; the main structure of the cathedral was almost built up to the fourth floor… Only the horse-drawn carts, laden with supplies and heading one after another towards Goldwater City, betrayed the fact that the church tower had lit the red smoke beacon fire.

The evening prayer at the small Laketon church had just ended. After the believers had left the prayer hall, Victor lowered his hood, revealing his handsome face. Father Miller looked utterly surprised, exclaiming, “You… Aren’t you going to war? Why did you come back?”

“Old fellow, you don’t seem happy to see me.” Victor chuckled lightly, dismissed the church attendant with a wave, and shrugged. “I didn’t come to you for a prophecy, so don’t glare at me.”

Upon hearing this, Miller let his guard down and muttered resentfully, “You coming back to see me never bodes well… Sit. Want me to pour you a glass of water?”

Saying this, he picked up a water jug, poured a glass of clear water, and slid it down the long table to Victor.

Taking a small sip of the cool, clear water, Victor held the ceramic cup and said with a sigh of emotion, “This glass of water is right on time… Caligula and I ran for nearly a thousand kilometers. The first thing he did when he got back was drink half a bucket of water, then he went to play with Bel… If I didn’t drink a single drop, wouldn’t that make me a monster?”

“You are indeed very strange.”

Miller sat down opposite Victor, nodding repeatedly, then shook his head and said, “I’ve been a head priest in many remote places and met many minor lords, but none of them are like you, so fond of pondering the affairs of commoners.”

Victor asked curiously, “Do you think I’m a kind-hearted lord compared to them?”

Miller smiled and shook his head. “You’re smarter than them. I’m afraid the hearts of lords are all the same.”

Victor was taken aback for a moment, then burst into laughter. “Old man, you see things very clearly… However, my subjects adore me. Do you know the secret to making subjects adore their lord?”

The wrinkles on Miller’s face deepened. He thought for a moment, shaking his head as he tentatively asked, “What is the secret?”

“I love my subjects, and they love me as I love them. Then, they love the House of Randell and this land as I do. They will fight for me, in my name,” Victor said in a deep voice. “If I were to despise them, they would despise me and the House of Randell… I am the House of Randell. Now, I also represent the Centaur Hills. And in the future, I will represent the Gambis Empire.”

Miller gave Victor a deep look, stroking the gray beard on his chin, and sighed, “I truly hope you can remember the words you’ve spoken… Also, you are indeed a monster… Actually, have you already lived for over a hundred years and are just pretending to be a minor in front of everyone?”

“Is that a compliment?” Victor pointed to his temple and said with a smile, “I was born a sage, you know.”

“Does being born a sage include life experience?” the God-favored muttered under his breath. He suddenly felt a sense of dejection, feeling that compared to the young man before him, he had lived his long life in vain.

“You wouldn’t just stand by and watch a good lord like me meet with misfortune, would you?”

“Fine.” Miller gave a helpless, bitter smile and leaned back in his chair. “What is it you want to ask this time?”

Victor blinked and smiled. “Then I won’t be polite… Many people, myself included, believe that the human kingdoms are about to face a great disaster. But I never expected the Centaurs to launch a full-scale invasion of the human empires; this isn’t the disaster I had anticipated. However, I have a different view now. Perhaps the Centaur invasion is part of the disaster… because the time scale of evil gods is different from ours, and the timing and forms of the calamities they trigger are numerous and varied.”

Miller’s face remained impassive as he listened quietly.

Victor gripped his cup and said sullenly, “If the Ant-men were to attack the Centaur Hills at this time, that would be trouble.”

After a moment, Father Miller patted Victor’s shoulder with a grave expression and said, “Child, the future is a vast chaos, containing countless possibilities, but there is only one outcome… The origin of the world, what Knights call the Elemental Sea, or the Creator, is what turns the endless chaos of the future into the reality of this world—all that exists.”

“…For this Centaur invasion, I foresaw that you would die at the hands of the Centaurs.”

Victor’s expression stiffened for a moment, then he scoffed, “I don’t believe you!”

A cunning, fox-like smile appeared on Miller’s old face. “It’s right not to believe. If the future was unchangeable, what meaning would your efforts have? Your duty is to turn the endless chaotic future into the outcome you desire… So, don’t ask me again. Let this old bag of bones live a few more years, kind-hearted Your Highness Randell.”

Victor spread his hands and said innocently, “But, I haven’t even asked my question yet.”

“…You.” The triumphant smile instantly froze on his face. Father Miller pointed a finger at Victor’s nose and said, exasperated, “You’re playing tricks again… Is it so amusing to bully an honest old man like me?”

Brushing away Father Miller’s finger, Victor said with a grin, “Don’t be angry. Your explanation of the future and fate just now was very interesting. But I also told you the secret to making subjects adore their lord… However, what I wanted in exchange wasn’t your explanation just now; that can only be considered an extra gift from you… Actually, I don’t have a question to ask you. I just want you to act for me once, to try and save my little life. Right now.”

Father Miller was both curious and nervous. He lowered his voice and pressed, “What are you planning to do right now?”

“During my time in Blinor City, I met an… old Wizard.”

Seeing the God-favored’s calm expression, Victor felt relieved and continued, “He is a man of profound knowledge, especially in the field of Potion-making, where almost no one can compare to him. We collaborated on researching the secret arts of the knight’s bloodline. He once used potions to cultivate Knights with pure bloodlines. The late King Ryan of the Gambis Kingdom and Princess Roland both benefited from his help, smoothly advancing to Gold Knight at a young age. This is especially true for Princess Roland. Her bloodline is almost no different from that of Auguste’s Legendary ancestor—platinum-blonde hair, a love for freedom, wide-ranging interests, a bit unreliable but actually very smart. She’s practically a reincarnation of the ancestor Auguste…”

“I carefully studied the Aerie Fortress Wizard’s research records and made a startling discovery!”

After a pause, Victor’s eyes shone brightly as he said, “I found that bloodline affects a person’s character. For example, the sailors of the Kingdom of Borea are hot-tempered, passionate, and frank. Conversely, a person’s character also affects their bloodline. This was the starting point for our research into the secret arts of the knight’s bloodline—using the power of the mind to dominate bloodline variation. But then, I discovered that character can be inherited by one’s descendants through the bloodline.”

“Roland’s character is just like her ancestor’s.”

Father Miller scratched his scalp and said with a scrunched-up face, “All this talk of yours about minds and bloodlines, I’ve never been able to understand it.”

Victor said with a smile, “The knight’s bloodline is very abrupt; it doesn’t belong to any variation of the human bloodline. It actually comes from inheritance on the level of the soul.” He pointed to his chest. “Our Lord is not the Lord, the Lord is not our Lord. A god dwells deep within our souls, coming from the origin of all things in the world, from the Elemental Sea. The knight’s bloodline is inherited through the soul; that is a portion of the Creator’s authority.”

Cupping the water with both hands, Victor took a sip as if savoring fine wine, his face flushing as he said, “I concealed this discovery. On one hand, I intend to use it to create even more advanced secret arts of the knight’s bloodline. On the other, alterations on the level of the mind are extremely risky, and my discovery still needs to be verified… His Highness Randell says that character determines destiny.”

Miller said with a troubled expression, “I still don’t understand.”

“Haha, then let’s talk about something you can understand.”

Victor’s smile was joyous. After a moment, he put it away, stared into Miller’s ordinary eyes, and raised an eyebrow.

“The Mark of Light of the Paladin families.”

Miller shot to his feet, then, with his mouth half-open, slowly sat back down. He rubbed his hands together, asking nervously and expectantly, “You… what are your thoughts on the Mark of Light?”

Victor gave him a puzzled look and pressed, “You’re acting very strange.”

Miller’s old face flushed red, and he craned his neck to shout, “I… I also like to study divine arts in my spare time! Can’t I have a hobby?”

Victor had no intention of exposing Miller’s disingenuousness and said with a smile, “It seems we have a common topic… The Mark of Light belongs to the mind, er, alright, let me rephrase that. It’s a divine art on the level of the soul?”

Miller nodded. After pondering for a moment, he frowned and said, “The Mark of Light is a ninth-level divine art, an authority granted to the first Pope by the Supreme Lord. It is not within the divine art sequence of the Pool of Holy Power. It and other divine arts are two completely different systems…”

The Divine Art Model created by the Archmages and Alchemists of the Alchemical Empire? It probably also includes the summoning of the Radiant Angel by the Golden Horn… Victor thought to himself, continuing to listen to Father Miller’s account.

“I can use holy power to simulate the Mark of Light divine art, but it can’t be sustained, and… it’s very dangerous. Extremely dangerous to people.” Miller’s expression was a little uneasy. He had once tried to use the Mark of Light to change the souls of Wizards, but ended up killing those two Wizards.

He covered his mouth, let out a dry cough, and changed the subject. “You just said that bloodline affects character, and character determines destiny… According to you, souls are predetermined. How can they be changed?”

“His Highness Randell also says that knowledge changes destiny.”

A restrained yet proud smile appeared on Victor’s face as he nodded. “The soul is mysterious and complex. Indeed, altering the soul can trigger unpredictable changes. Do you know about Biological Aberrations? They are creatures whose soul structure has undergone a massive change, like animals whose souls have been tainted by Wizardry, turning them into Biological Aberrations whose instinct is to collect Bloodline Law.”

“The boundaries of the soul’s structure determine the form of life. You and Sylvia are both top-tier powerhouses of this era. In fact, you have already touched the boundaries of the soul structure. You have repeatedly emphasized that an unrestrainable powerhouse should exercise more self-restraint to define themselves, otherwise they will cease to be themselves, which is equivalent to falling. I guess if your desires were to expand without limit, the consequence would be turning into a wisp of Holy Light, and Sylvia would no longer be Sylvia. She would become a Spirit Knight through and through.”

“The soul’s structure can be changed. The Mark of Light is the best example. And… Caligula, right?” Victor’s sharp gaze pierced the God-favored’s eyes.

Miller tugged at his beard, remaining silent. Seeing this, Victor understood and continued, “Caligula was on the verge of death back then, and his soul structure had already collapsed. You saved him, which required you to re-stabilize his soul structure. Heh, bringing someone back from the dead is not so easy, is it? In any case, you have the method and experience to stabilize a soul, right?”

Miller sighed and nodded. “It seems so… I can’t deny it even if I wanted to. But I mainly did it to save the Big guy’s life. I didn’t intend to use him for an experiment, er, of course, I did end up doing just that.”

“It’s good enough that you admit you have a way to stabilize a soul structure.”

Victor nodded and said with delight, “I’ve been pondering, what is the path for a high-rank Mind Warrior after constructing the Talent Tree? Now I know. It’s to construct a soul talent! A soul talent, also called a mind talent, is a model, a structural boundary that can restrain the power of the mind, preventing its disordered and chaotic diffusion, which would cause the Soul Fire to burn fiercely and then extinguish. Such a soul talent can evolve the power of the mind into the Light of the Mind, just as a Divine Art Model turns holy power into a divine art.”

“Disordered and chaotic diffusion of the power of the soul… so that’s what happened.” Miller muttered to himself. He finally understood why those two Wizards had died so suddenly, without even a speck of dust left behind.

Victor rubbed his nose, his gaze burning as he said, “I am the most top-tier Mind Warrior. I have a complete Talent Tree and at least two soul talents. One is Nemesis, and the other is my wisdom talent. But these are all the inevitable results of my bloodline, not the result of the Mind’s Dominator itself.”

“I want to personally verify this theory. The first step is to fully release all my power of the mind while maintaining the stability of my soul structure!” he stood up, faced Miller, and said resolutely, “You will protect my safety for when I’m about to lose control.”

Miller calculated his own lifespan and a major event that would happen in the future, confirming that there was enough time. Then, his murky eyes turned platinum-blonde as he performed a brief prophecy. He pondered for a long while before shaking his head and saying, “You will succeed, but you will also fail. The consequence of failure is death… I still think there is no need to take this risk.”

“What is the probability of failure?” Victor asked.

“…Five percent.”

“Then let’s try it!”

“You’re completely insane! I can’t agree to this!”

A confident smile traced Victor’s lips as he said lightly, “Actually, when I saw the red beacon fire at Lake Basse, I was already able to mobilize all of my power of the mind. However, I didn’t dare to continue at the time. Since I’ll be facing danger when I go to the Sasan Empire to fight the Centaurs anyway, I might as well level up first.”

“You must think this through. Nothing in this world is absolute,” Miller said gravely.

Victor nodded. “If I don’t even dare to try with a five percent chance of failure, what right do I have to be the Protector of the Kingdom?”

Father Miller stood up and warned with great solemnity, “In a moment, don’t do anything unnecessary. Your failure will come from that.”

Chapter 603: Mind in Ferment

Father Miller led Victor into the confessional chamber of the small church. The chamber was half underground and about twenty square meters in area. A row of iron-grated ventilation windows ran along the top of the walls, but they were covered by black curtains that isolated the interior from the outside, creating a sealed environment. The furnishings were simple, and without any candelabras, the confessional chamber was not grim or damp, but rather gave one a sense of dark tranquility.

The prayer altar in the center of the chamber was inlaid with a circle of holy power crystals. Miller activated the altar’s formation, and a ray of pure, gentle Holy Light dispelled the darkness in the room.

Victor walked forward, looked at the Holy Crystal prayer altar, and clicked his tongue in amazement. “The Church is truly wealthy, using holy power crystals even for its sinful adherents… By the way, how many criminals in Randell Fief have prayed to you for Redemption? You know they’ve committed crimes, yet you keep their secrets. Doesn’t that count as abetting evil?”

“Even the most heinous death row inmate has the right to a final confession. Confession itself is a precious quality of goodness. It is my responsibility to redeem the goodness in people’s hearts; it is your responsibility to punish criminals. Besides, most people who confess are not true criminals. They have simply experienced the pain of others and blame themselves for their past mistakes.”

As he moved the kneeling stool from in front of the prayer altar, Miller said, “A few days ago, a child fell into the stream reservoir and drowned. His father was grief-stricken and blamed himself for not being able to save him. That father was also a confessor.”

Looking at Father Miller’s thin back, Victor couldn’t help but feel a sense of solemn respect. He fell silent for a moment before sighing sincerely, “A priest must be under immense pressure, hearing so many painful confessions.”

“Faith is our armor, and the Supreme Lord is our lighthouse.” Miller’s low voice was filled with reverence and compassion. He seemed unwilling to continue this topic, changing the subject instead. “There is no bed here. You’ll have to lie on the floor.”

Stomping on the hard limestone floor tiles, Victor asked, “Does standing or lying down affect your spellcasting?”

Miller shook his head, indicating it made no difference at all.

“Then I’ll stand.” Victor stood in the center of the confessional chamber and explained, “If you see me start to sway, it means I’m about to lose control… You have to save me!”

His nervous appearance amused Miller, but the priest still offered words of comfort. “Rest assured, I won’t let anything untoward happen to the kind-hearted His Highness Randell here…” With that, the God-favored man’s smile faded, and he warned with a very serious expression, “Remember, do not do anything unnecessary!”

“Alright, I just want to feel the power deep in my mind and determine what level of mobilization won’t affect the stability of my soul structure.” Victor vowed, “I promise I won’t do anything reckless.”

Miller looked him up and down and emphasized again, “You absolutely must not act recklessly… You may begin.”

Victor had waited a full three months for this day, to be able to personally explore the profound realms of the Mind Bloodline secret art. He wasted no more words, circulating X-3 to regulate his breathing and collect his thoughts. He quickly entered an ethereal state, transcending life and death, of silent void.

Miller watched as his eyes turned dark gold, then shimmered with a flowing golden light that gradually transformed into a golden mist, at once real and illusory, drifting upward. His black hair turned blond, starting from the roots, until he took on a form with completely golden hair and gold eyes.

If Victor’s black-haired, gold-eyed form was so handsome it would make a mortal feel ashamed and unable to look directly at him, then his current appearance was like a brilliant sun, one that seemed like it would cause injury with just a few furtive glances.

The God-favored man clicked his tongue in wonder, but he knew this was merely the outward manifestation of Victor completely unleashing his power of the mind without restraint. He did not dare to be careless. His own turbid, sallow eyes were dyed a sacred platinum-gold by holy power as he used the divine art of true sight to observe Victor’s soul. If Victor showed the slightest sign of an adverse change, he would intervene.

Victor’s self-awareness perceived a different phenomenon. Unlike the all-encompassing external observation of Wind Whisper, when his power of the mind was fully and wantonly unleashed and his black hair turned a gold as pure as sunlight, his eyes saw only a darkness of ultimate silence. There was no sound, no light; apart from his own consciousness, which was still active, it seemed that even time and space had vanished.

An ordinary person would inevitably panic in such a situation, but Victor had two similar experiences: one was the process of his arrival in this world, and the other was the activation of the Alchemy Tower. He knew that he was now deep within his soul, in the space of consciousness.

Here and now, he was his own god.

A god is omniscient, omnipotent, and omnipresent. But Victor was not a god, after all. He was a creation of the origin of the world, still constrained by the world’s laws. It was because of these constraints that he was a stable life form, and of course, he could not imagine things he did not know.

Thus, Victor saw what he wanted to see. A ball of golden flame emerged from the solidified darkness. Its light illuminated a surrounding circle of luminous orbs connected by lines. Some orbs were bright, others dim, and each was linked to the golden flame by a thread of light.

Victor casually tapped on a bright orb. Inside was a set of his memories concerning a recent conversation with Sylvia. The feelings from that time were clearly presented in his consciousness, as if time had reversed and the scene was replaying. The only difference was that Victor was re-watching it from the perspective of a “god,” yet he could still empathize completely.

In Victor’s understanding, the ancient Alchemical Empire had the most profound research on the soul. The golden flame he saw was the Soul Fire recorded in the Alchemy Tower, and the orbs surrounding it represented the Will Side.

Everyone perceives things from a different angle, so what they see will differ, but the essence of the thing is the same. If another person were to observe their soul in their own space of consciousness, it might not appear as a flame and orbs, but a soul is still a soul, and its reality and function are the same for everyone.

The Soul Fire and the Will Side constitute the soul. The Soul Fire represents the soul’s energy, while the Will Side is the soul structure. This structure constrains the radiation of the Soul Fire’s energy, preventing it from being rapidly depleted. Victor believed that the soul’s structure, or what one might call the soul fence, was set by the Creator and could be considered a most basic soul talent framework.

Once the soul framework was broken, the Soul Fire’s energy would lose its restraints, and life would quickly be extinguished. There were two ways to destroy the soul framework: one was through external force, like when the little Baron was killed by Wizardry; the other was destruction from within, where the fiercely burning energy of the Soul Fire destroyed the Will Side. Victor was currently at risk of such a fate.

Therefore, the first thing Victor had to do was to reinforce his soul structure so it could withstand both external blows and internal combustion.

He was now the supreme lord of his own inner world, so he accomplished this easily. At his will, the lines of light connecting the Soul Fire to the Will Side grew brighter, channeling energy to each orb representing the Will Side, making them stable and efficient.

This meant Victor’s soul structure had gone from a fence to a brick wall, but there was still a considerable gap before it could become a high wall built of limestone. The Soul Fire’s energy was insufficient; he had to raise the upper limit of his spiritual power.

Energy does not come from nowhere. The intensely burning Soul Fire illuminated the next layer of orbs: Victor’s hundreds of bloodline variations. Some orbs were drawing nourishment from the darkness to fuel the Soul Fire’s combustion. Victor came to understand that a variation of his High Elf bloodline was absorbing the void water element and converting it into life energy.

Wasn’t the Creator’s will to absorb the endless chaos, and through the world’s various laws, evolve and expand the world itself?

Every living creature also relied on the Bloodline Law, plundering nutrients from the outside world to strengthen itself, then splitting to reproduce.

Absorbing void water element was a Bloodline Law of the Moon Elves. Besides this, there were also the most common Bloodline Laws of eating, digestion, and absorption.

Victor couldn’t test the Bloodline Law of digestion and absorption by eating right now. He imparted more light to the law of absorbing void water element. Then, he felt the speed at which the void water element poured into his body increase, providing a continuous supply of energy for his Soul Fire.

In a state where his power of the mind was fully released, the Bloodline Law for absorbing void water element changed from a passive law to an active law at his will.

This was what the Mind’s Dominator Bloodline Law was!

However, the void water element Victor absorbed barely replenished a portion of what the Soul Fire consumed; the Soul Fire was still weakening. This was because it was also illuminating other orbs.

Victor casually dimmed several temporarily useless orbs. The rate at which the void water element replenished the Soul Fire became greater than the rate of consumption, and the Soul Fire’s energy was quickly restored.

The upper limit of his spiritual power hadn’t changed, but his vigor was effectively recovered. Tremendously excited, Victor began to turn his gaze to the entire system of orbs. He saw that the brighter orbs formed a tree-like structure—this was his Talent Tree. The other orbs were very dim, representing dormant bloodline laws.

Victor tried to light up a slumbering orb. The rate of Soul Fire energy consumption increased rapidly, causing even the orbs that made up the Talent Tree to flicker erratically. Frightened, he quickly stopped, and only then did the Talent Tree maintain a stable brightness.

Bloodline laws were interconnected and influenced one another. Lighting one would cause others to change.

Don’t do anything unnecessary!

Victor still remembered Father Miller’s warning, but for now, everything was under his control. As long as he didn’t try to light up those dim bloodline laws, there would be no danger.

His attention shifted to the orb representing the Vital Tenacity Talent. He could intuitively see that it was connected to various bloodline orbs, the most prominent of which were the Surge talent and, tracing further up, the orb representing X-3.

Although the Vital Tenacity Talent orb was connected to the Moon Elf Talent Tree, it was not located within the tree. Did this mean it could form a new Talent Tree?

The more Victor thought about it, the more his heart pounded. He immediately tried to modify the Vital Tenacity Talent… its primary function was Healing, which couldn’t be touched, but he could add Elemental Resistance and its opposite, elemental affinity.

No sooner said than done!

Victor found the orbs for the four elemental resistances. Expending Soul Fire energy, he carefully constructed connecting lines based on the principle of aesthetic symmetry. After several attempts, he successfully added the four elemental resistances to his Vital Tenacity Talent. Unfortunately, his elemental resistances were very weak and had no practical value.

However, the new Vital Tenacity Talent provided a foundation for building the next talent. Victor connected the lines from the Surge talent and X-3 to the Root Talent, combining them with Elemental Resistance to form a self-switching Twin Talent.

Body of Bedrock: Void water element is converted into earth element. The body becomes as tough as bedrock, impervious to blades and spears. Strength increases by thirty percent, reaching the level of a Gold-rank earth Knight. Agility and Perception are halved, but still comparable to a Silver-rank Raging Wave Knight.

Body of Gossamer: Void water element is partially converted into wind element. The body becomes as light as a willow catkin, similar to the Wind Walk effect of the Gold-rank Gnoll, Windfang, allowing for changes in direction mid-air. Strength and Physique attributes are reduced by forty percent, while Agility and Perception are doubled.

Although the Twin Talent was not like a High-ranked Knight’s Semi-elementalization, which could grant temporary immunity to fatal damage, they were both extraordinary talents that Victor had long craved. Moreover, they could be switched at will during combat, which meant more tactical options and higher fault tolerance. Most importantly, the Body of Gossamer faintly resonated with the elementalized Void Walk.

His confidence soaring, Victor turned his gaze to X-3.

He hadn’t chosen to modify Nemesis or Void Walk because both of these soul talents were based on X-3. Without optimizing X-3, there was no possibility of improving them.

X-3 was simply too important to Victor. He dared not act rashly. Instead, he chose to observe the bloodline basis that constituted X-3.

Strictly speaking, X-3 was an advanced form of the fire of the mind. Its composition shut down the wild intuition mind talent, enhancing control over the power of the mind—that is, improving Overlimit and Apocalypse. It was by relying on Overlimit and Apocalypse that Victor could fully release his power of the mind and achieve the state of being the sovereign of his own mind.

X-3 had already been categorized by Victor as a soul talent. As long as it was a talent, it had a source in bloodline laws. By analyzing the bloodline law basis that constituted X-3, he could, in theory, reverse-engineer the Forging Method for X-3. Since X-3 shut down wild intuition, it meant its Forging Method could be applicable to ordinary people, or Alchemical humans.

Victor would certainly not teach the Forging Method for X-3 to ordinary people, but if Alchemical humans could successfully assemble X-3 through the Forging Method, then the Alchemy Tower could produce level-three Alchemical militia equipped with the fire of the mind.

Unfortunately, although Victor successfully analyzed the bloodline law basis of X-3, he disappointingly discovered that more than half of the bloodline laws belonged to the Moon Elves. Deducing an X-3 Forging Method suitable for the human bloodline would require a great deal of experimentation.

Storing this piece of research into the orbs of his Will Side as a memory backup, the still-unresigned Victor targeted the optimization of the X-3 talent itself.

X-3 had once almost collapsed, losing its digitized vision ability. Digitized vision wasn’t very useful, but the fact that it had been altered proved that it could be modified.

Sylvia had perceived the changes in the elements and, with the skill of an initial-rank Silver Knight, had easily slain the two-headed Dragon-Lizard Itugos with two sword strikes. Victor was endlessly envious of the elemental perception of a Gold Knight. He didn’t have the combat intuition of a Ferocious human, only the precision of X-3. If he could simulate a Gold Knight’s elemental perception to discern an enemy’s dynamic weak points, that would be an excellent optimization. X-3’s digitized vision could observe a creature’s elemental concentration; if he modified it slightly, perhaps he could grasp a creature’s dynamic elemental changes, find its vulnerabilities, and deliver a precise, fatal blow.

Victor called this Insight.

This optimization proved unexpectedly difficult. Victor tried hundreds of times before he finally managed to construct the Insight model within X-3’s structural framework.

Just as he was feeling pleased with himself, a grand and majestic voice broke into his soul world.

“Stop! You have ventured too deep into the domain of gods.”

Victor was jolted awake. Only then did he discover that in order to supply the energy to construct the Insight model, he had actually shut down the bloodline law for absorbing void water element. His Soul Fire, though burning fiercely, was already flickering precariously. He quickly brightened the orb that sustained his life energy. The Insight model instantly dimmed. His internal visualization shifted to external sight, and he saw a twelve-winged archangel composed of lines of light, extending chains of platinum-gold that wrapped around his Will Side orbs, replenishing their light.

This is Father Miller’s divine form, from burning his soul power and holy power… Is this my Insight?

The thought flashed through his mind, and Victor’s consciousness slipped into an endless darkness.

Chapter 604: Feigned Viciousness and True Madness

An unknown amount of time passed before Victor awoke from the darkness. Father Miller was still the same grizzled old man in a coarse flax robe, his face a web of wrinkles. His expression, however, was not pleasant. The corners of his mouth were turned down, and his gaze was fierce. Seeing Victor sit up from the floor, he cursed, “What about your promise? You idiot, you fool, you madman. Do you have any idea you almost got yourself killed?”

Victor took a moment to recover. He ran the X-3 self-check and confirmed there were no major issues, only that the water element within his body had yet to be restored. Sighing in relief, he frowned with lingering fear and said, “Just now, I had no concept of time, completely lost in a feeling of omnipotence… It was so strange, so peculiar. I even forgot about life and death… How could this happen?”

“A divine trance.”

With a stern face, Father Miller explained, “Clergy who break through the limits of level seven and merge with the Pool of Holy Power all undergo a similar trial. No time, no space, no life or death, just like a True God. But a person is not a god, after all. To lose oneself is to die.”

Victor grew thoughtful, murmuring, “So that’s what it was… A High-ranked Knight’s swim in the Elemental Sea is probably this kind of… silent, traceless demise.”

Father Miller bristled with anger and scolded, “You still have the mind to think about such things? You were nearly finished just now! You’re truly mad…”

Victor laughed heartily. “Stealing the authority of a god is something only a madman would do…” He stood up straight from the floor, swung his arms, and said with sparkling eyes, “At least I experienced the realm of a Mind’s Dominator, and I’m still alive!”

“Bah! You people are the ones stealing the authority of a god. We are receiving the grace of the Supreme Lord.”

The old priest spat on the floor and said angrily, “You’re alive right now because of our Lord’s favor.”

“Praise the supreme Lord of Radiance.” Victor knelt before the Prayer altar, faced the Holy Light, and traced a holy symbol in the air over his chest. After a pious prayer, he stood and bowed solemnly to Father Miller, saying with a smile, “I am too far from the Lord of Radiance. I wish to express my most sincere gratitude to His God-favored, Father Miller.”

Father Miller shook his head, his expression complicated. “So you know to thank me now. You didn’t listen to my advice before your divine trance, and now I can no longer use the Great Divination. Do you think you should be happy or regretful?”

Victor froze on the spot. After a long moment, a dry smile formed on his face, and he asked cautiously, “To save me just now… was your lifespan shortened?”

Father Miller let out a cold hmph and turned to walk out the door. Victor followed sheepishly behind the priest. When they reached the prayer hall of the small church, he ventured, “I will design a life-extending Forging Method specifically for you and provide the best potions. If you practice every day, I guarantee you’ll live to be over eighty.”

“Even so, I will never use the Great Divination again.” Father Miller pushed open the heavy church doors, stepped aside, and jerked his head toward the exit, signaling for Victor to leave. “Go on, and don’t forget to teach me that Forging Method.”

“Oh.” Victor pulled up his hood and obediently walked out the door. Just before Miller could close it, he couldn’t help but turn and ask, “Actually, you also gained a precious harvest when you saved me just now, didn’t you?”

Bang! Father Miller slammed the door shut. His angry roar came from behind the oak door, “Get your ass back to your Hill Secret Fortress.”

Hearing this, Victor wore a sheepish expression. He glanced down at his shadow, checked the time, then turned and walked toward the Hill Secret Fortress at a pace that seemed slow but was deceptively fast.

In a beast pen at the Hill Secret Fortress, Beldina, dressed in a little handmaiden’s skirt, was crouching on the ground, teasing several large dogs with dark, glossy fur and robust builds. These short-haired dogs, named Katol Hounds, were the latest warhounds bred by Imosen, combining the intelligence and agility of a sentinel hound with the courage and fearlessness of a guard hound. They lay on the ground, their pink tongues lolling out, wagging their short tails incessantly, trying to curry favor with the chubby little girl. Bel, however, looked bored, seemingly tired of the Katol Hounds’ fawning.

Caligula stood beside Beldina, his expression extremely stiff, his eyes darting about. He only looked this way when he was frightened. Yet he still used his massive body to shield Bel from the secret fortress’s arrow tower.

Eight fully armed Alchemical Soldiers stood with their hands on their sword hilts, positioned in the corners of the pen, subtly surrounding Bel and Caligula. Up on the arrow tower, two Griffin Militia members held cocked military heavy crossbows, their gazes fixed on Caligula and Beldina.

Their eyes were cold and indifferent.

When Victor entered, little Bel gave a cheer, abandoned Caligula and the warhounds, and rushed into his arms. She then clung to him like a monkey, pouting her lips and whining, “Master, what took you so long?”

The big simpleton also ran over, pointing at the Alchemical humans around them and tattling, “Master, they’re all bad guys! They wanted to hurt Aka and Bel. Punish them quickly!”

“They wouldn’t let me and Aka run around, but we didn’t run around,” Bel said, her arms wrapped around Victor’s neck, her voice full of grievance.

A flash of guilt crossed Victor’s eyes. He gently patted Bel’s back, set her on the ground, and asked, “Is the Hill Secret Fortress fun?”

“No! Not fun at all,” the two of them said, shaking their heads like pellet drums.

“Do you want to come to the Hill Secret Fortress again next time?” Victor asked with a stern face.

“Aka didn’t want to come. Bel was the one who insisted on coming to play,” the big simpleton said first, pointing at the little girl.

Bel tilted up her round, chubby face, blinked her large, baby-like innocent eyes, and also started tattling on Caligula, “Master, Bel was very good. Aka wanted to run off, and I told him to just stay here obediently and wait for Master to come get us.”

Caligula scratched the back of his head, a thoughtful look on his face, trying to remember when Bel had told him to wait here for their master.

“You two head back to Silver Moon Manor first. It’ll be time for dinner soon,” Victor said with a small smile, then instructed a nearby Alchemical Soldier, “Take them out.”

Bel deftly climbed onto Caligula’s neck, hugged his head, and shouted, “Stupid Aka, let’s go quickly, or there’ll be no food left!”

Hearing there might be no food, Caligula couldn’t be bothered with his thoughts anymore. He took off at a run, following the Alchemical Soldier out of the beast pen. A moment later, the sounds of their argument drifted back from outside.

“Aka remembers now! Bel didn’t tell Aka to wait for Master. Bel told Aka to take her somewhere else to play. It was the guard from the secret fortress who told Aka to wait for Master here.”

“Bel did too tell stupid Aka.”

“…No.”

“Yes! If you say no again, I’ll have My Lady Elina stop stupid Aka from having dinner.”

“…Alright, Bel told Aka…”

The two clueless children had no idea what had just happened… Victor shook his head with a laugh, then sighed to himself.

The harvest from this experiment was exceedingly precious. Victor had reinforced the structure of his Will Side, allowing his power of the mind to be fully unleashed for a continuous six minutes. In this state, his hair and eyes would turn gold, and the orb of light representing his Bloodline talent, enhanced by the power of the mind, would become even more dazzling. This meant that for those six minutes, all his abilities would be elevated to a whole new level.

Victor named this six-minute state “Boil.”

Boil: By completely burning the power of the mind, it enhances the effects of all extraordinary talents by thirty-five percent, including the three mind talents: Apocalypse, Nemesis, and Void Walk. In the state of Boil, the tracking range of Nemesis expands from a seven-kilometer radius to 9.1 kilometers, and the number and power of void wind element strikes increase by thirty percent. Void Walk can be cast once without using the divine arts ring, with a travel distance of sixty meters. Apocalypse, in addition to its original effects being enhanced, can also be used to cast Insight once, allowing him to probe an enemy’s dynamic elemental changes to find weak points. However, using Insight requires shutting down the Bloodline talent that absorbs the void water element, which would leave Victor in a state of vigor exhaustion.

Boil could be used once every sixteen hours. By continuously keeping the void water element absorption Bloodline talent active, the cooldown for Boil could be reduced to ten hours.

Besides Boil and Insight, Victor had also reconstructed the Vital Tenacity Root Talent, mastering Body of Bedrock and Body of Gossamer. But compared to the experience of the divine trance, Boil, Insight, and the Twin Talent were all nothing.

Victor had glimpsed a part of the mysteries of a Mind’s Dominator, giving him the chance to construct another talent tree on the foundation of his original one, forming a complementary dual-talent-tree system. He had also analyzed the structure of X-3 and could now deduce a Forging Method to ignite the fire of the mind. Even if the Forging Method suitable for ordinary people wasn’t as powerful as X-3, it at least gave them a chance to increase the probability of igniting their fire of the mind through long-term cultivation.

In addition, Victor had roughly deduced a new Knight’s bloodline Forging Method. He couldn’t be sure of its specific effects yet, but it was definitely more advanced than the Forging Method he had given the August family.

Corresponding to the Source Blood Secret Art for commoners, Victor named this Knight-path Bloodline secret art the Divine Blood Secret Art. His firm grasp of the Divine Blood Secret Art meant he held a powerful gravitational pull over the Knight-Nobles. In the future, any opponents of His Highness Randell within the Gambis Empire would become fragile and easy to defeat because of the Divine Blood Secret Art.

Of course, to obtain such precious knowledge and experience, Victor had taken an enormous risk. And the main source of that risk was not the divine trance, but Father Miller.

Victor would never treat the amiable and beloved Father Miller as a trustworthy partner. Because he was mysterious, and even more so because he was powerful, almost like a god.

No one knew what Father Miller truly wanted to do, or what he was capable of doing. Victor only knew that the Pope from fifteen hundred years ago might very well have been done in by a God-favored. To display his most vulnerable side before the God-favored Miller, Victor felt he had been truly mad.

Well, true great scholars all have a bit of that moth-to-a-flame madness.

Currently, only the Radiant Church had the most in-depth research into the domain of the soul. Victor coveted the authority of a god, and besides Father Miller, no one could help him. Before cooperating with Father Miller, Victor had still made some preparations. He had used Caligula and Bel as hostages, ordering eight powerful Alchemical Soldiers to kill Aka and Bel the instant they detected their Master’s Soul Fire had been extinguished.

Victor believed the two of them held a special significance for Miller. As for whether eight Alchemical Soldiers could actually kill the Gold rank Caligula and the luck aura-wielding Bel, he deliberately ignored that question.

In truth, Victor himself had doubted whether his vicious threat would work on Miller. As it turned out, Miller had indeed saved him, and without having a hand in something deep within his mind. If he couldn’t even be certain of this point, what right did he have to call himself a Mind’s Dominator?

The price of success was steep. Miller had proven his goodwill toward Victor, but he could no longer perform the Great Divination. He had all but stated to Victor that even if he encountered danger in the future, he could not expect the Great Divination to help him. In the wrestling match of fate, Victor no longer had any backup.

Victor had a faint feeling that Miller had also benefited greatly from this costly and high-risk experiment. But he currently lacked the vigor and time to ponder Miller’s plans. He had to make the most thorough arrangements for the safety of the Centaur Hills, because the Great Divination was no more, and the Ant-men might just take advantage of this vulnerability, driven by some force of fate.

Chapter 605: Arrangements Before the Expedition

In the cavern of the Alchemy Tower, Victor’s consciousness connected with the Tower Spirit.

“King, do you notice anything different about me now?”

“My lord, welcome back.” The Tower Spirit King first greeted its Master, then sent another message: “I am unable to detect your status. The Alchemy Tower does not have this function.”

In his communication with the Tower Spirit, Victor held the dominant position; the King could not pry into his thoughts or the state of his soul. This had been clear for a long time. However, the Alchemy Tower’s reliance on a piece of its Master’s soul was a persistent vulnerability. If Victor’s Soul Fire were to be extinguished, the King would cease to exist, and the reverse was also true. As the master of Alchemy Tower No. 7, Victor was no longer the man he once was. His soul had been strengthened, yet the Tower Spirit remained unchanged. That small fragment of Soul Fire had become its fatal weakness.

Victor had harbored a fantasy that the synchronous strengthening of their souls would allow the Tower Spirit King to activate some new function, enabling them to establish a remote connection. If that were possible, even if the Ant-men attacked Alchemy Tower No. 7 while he was absent, he could still command the battle in the Centaur Hills through the Tower Spirit and his Alchemical humans.

The King’s answer was a great disappointment to Victor. If the Ant-man army broke through the Hill Secret Fortress and destroyed Alchemy Tower No. 7, his death would be utterly baffling and senseless.

In truth, as the Randall family grew and the Mind Bloodline secret art became more widespread, Alchemy Tower No. 7’s usefulness to Victor was steadily diminishing. In another twenty or thirty years, he would no longer need to depend on it. He could simply carry the tower’s Rune Crystal with him, reactivating it to produce alchemical creatures only when necessary. This was the only way to ensure his own safety to the greatest extent.

A truly strong person should be the master of their own destiny.

However, considering the current situation—Victor’s impending expedition to the Sasan Empire and the fact that Lady Sylvia and Father Miller would be holding down the fort in the Centaur Hills—it was clearly more advantageous to have the tower produce level-three Gryphon Militiamen at full capacity to bolster the Randell Fief’s mid-tier forces, rather than carrying the tower with him.

After all, Victor couldn’t be certain that the Ant-men would attack the Centaur Hills, and his current Alchemical militia were mostly seven or eight years old. Mass-producing level-three Gryphon Militiamen now would perfectly serve the need to replace the older generation of Alchemical humans.

Victor scattered three hundred Purple Gold Coins onto the alchemy tower’s altar and instructed the King in his mind, “Take these resources, and while you’re at it, report on the status of Alchemy Tower No. 7.”

“As you command, My lord.”

The Purple Gold Coins, worth three hundred thousand Gold Sols, began to shimmer with an iridescent light on the altar, creating a magnificent and dazzling spectacle.

Victor consoled himself: This bit of money is nothing. Once the rock brick is introduced, we in the Centaur Hills, along with the royal families of the various kingdoms, will reclaim our free minting rights from the Church. Then I can trade gold and silver ingots for resources… Yes, this small sum is nothing.

“Alchemy Tower No. 7: Total Soul Fire, 14,031 points. Remaining Soul Fire, 2,874 points. Controlling 8 Alchemical Dragon-Lizards, 405 Alchemical militia, 84 Alchemical Warhounds, 981 Alchemical auxiliary soldiers, 277 alchemical crows, 34 Gryphon Militiamen, and 8 Alchemical Soldiers. Remaining resources: 457,040 Gold Sols.”

Victor felt a pang of pain, as if he had a toothache. The last time, the tower had over three hundred thousand Gold Sols. Adding the three hundred thousand from this time, that was over six hundred thousand in resources. Producing two Alchemical Dragon-Lizards and eight Alchemical Soldiers had used up nearly two hundred thousand, leaving only four hundred fifty thousand Gold Sols.

An Alchemical Soldier costs twelve thousand Gold Sols—it’s too expensive… A level-three Gryphon Militiaman only costs a little over three thousand gold coins. It’s much more cost-effective to make them… Victor grumbled to himself, then asked, “Some time ago, I had my men bring back Dreamhaze Potion and the Mind Bloodline potion for ten Alchemical militiamen to consume. When they returned to the alchemy tower, did they upload any new skills?”

The King responded, “Yes, My lord. Ten Alchemical militiamen who cultivated the new skills returned to the tower. By the time the fifth one returned, the alchemy tower had generated a new skill. I have named it Source Blood Mystic Form.”

Victor was both surprised and delighted. He shook his head and chuckled, “The other five Alchemical militiamen died for nothing… Well, what’s done is done. Report the effects of loading the Source Blood Secret Art onto a level-one Alchemical militiaman.”

“A level-one Alchemical militiaman loaded with the Source Blood Mystic Form has a Physique of 16, Spirit of 10, Perception of 11, and Life of 3. The manufacturing price is unchanged. It possesses one Vital Tenacity Talent, which includes Physical Tenacity, Bone Reinforcement, Superior Stamina, Resistance to Hunger and Thirst, Minor Self-Healing, and both Water and Fire elemental resistance.”

Victor was greatly satisfied. The total attributes of the Source Blood militiamen were unchanged, but the Vital Tenacity Talent vastly improved their survivability and combat effectiveness, which was perfect for death-defying alchemical creatures. Most importantly, their manufacturing cost remained the same, and it only took up one skill slot. The only unsatisfactory aspect was their attribute distribution; the imbalance between strength and agility would affect their performance in real combat.

“Between the Dire Wolf, Gryphon, and Lithe Ape Mystic Forms, which can override the attribute structure of the Source Blood Mystic Form while retaining the Vital Tenacity Talent of the Alchemical human?” Victor asked.

“Loading either the Gryphon or Lithe Ape Mystic Forms can override the attribute structure of the Source Blood Mystic Form. Loading either the Gryphon or Dire Wolf Mystic Forms can retain the Vital Tenacity Talent,” the King responded.

Victor’s expression immediately became a little unnatural. The third-level Source Blood Secret Art was a creation he was proud of, yet the alchemy tower’s priority assessment rated it lower than the Gryphon Combat Technique designed by Tournans, and even the Lithe Ape Mystic Form. Thinking about it, it made sense. The Gryphon Combat Technique was designed to increase a cultivator’s chances of igniting the fire of the mind. The advanced cultivation method of the Lithe Ape Mystic Form was borderline evil, requiring practitioners to practice blindfolded on cliffs and ledges, aiming to develop wild intuition and the Touch of the Mind. Both belonged to the realm of mind talent, and their level was indeed a notch higher than his third-level Source Blood Secret Art.

Well, more than just a notch higher, but their training effect is far worse than my third-level Source Blood Secret Art. After all, I designed it to popularize initial-rank Mind Warriors… Victor made an objective assessment and commanded the King, “Produce three Alchemical Dragon-Lizards, fifty Alchemical Warhounds, and one hundred alchemical crows. Then, produce level-three Alchemical militiamen indefinitely, loaded with the Gryphon Mystic Form, Dire Wolf Mystic Form, Source Blood Mystic Form, and the inherent gathering skill, until the tower’s resources are depleted.”

“My lord, as you wish. The production queue has been established.”

The King’s toneless voice echoed in Victor’s consciousness. The altar, having already absorbed the Purple Gold Coins, lit up with runes of the four elements, bathing the cavern in a hazy, dreamlike glow.

“That’s all for now,” Victor nodded, then left the Alchemy Tower cavern with Reno and Shak, his two Alchemical militiamen.

Arriving at the lower camp, Victor had someone summon Jack, the first Lithe Ape militiaman and commander of the Swamp Scout unit. “Are there any disturbances in the Great Marsh?” he asked. “How is the Lizardmen’s bloody battle progressing? Are those Goblin slaves still behaving?”

Jack thought for a moment before answering, “The Swamp Scouts haven’t discovered anything unusual, but one of our alchemical crows spotted a medium-sized Ogre tribe on the southern side of the Great Marsh. Their area of activity is less than forty kilometers from the Southern Fortress’s sentry posts, and there are signs they intend to expand their territory further.”

“A medium-sized Ogre tribe? The Old Ogre Nicole and I killed was likely an exile driven out by them. They also once captured Beldina… To think they managed to survive the first Ant-man plague by hiding near the Goldwater River.” Victor frowned and gestured for Jack to continue. “Keep reporting.”

“The Lizardmen bloody battle is still ongoing. A victor will likely emerge by this year’s Season of Water. Lord Imosen stepped in and recruited a group of defeated Lizardmen escapees. We now have over five hundred Lizardmen helping us enslave the Goblins.”

“The number of Goblins has grown to over eleven thousand, and they send large quantities of supplies to New Sprout Fort in the mountains every month. However, the Alchemical humans and Lizardmen at the forward base are finding it somewhat difficult to control them,” Jack said with a bow. “My lord, I request an increase in alchemical creatures at the Swamp Forward Base… I am concerned that some of the Goblin slaves might escape to the southern part of the Great Marsh and become vassals of the Ogre tribe.”

Victor nodded. “Your concern is not unfounded. However, if an Ant-man tide appears, these Goblins and Ogres will all be finished anyway. They might even serve as a buffer for us against the Ant-man plague. But necessary precautions must still be taken. I have just produced another three Alchemical Dragon-Lizards and fifty Alchemical Warhounds. Deploy them all to the Swamp Forward Base. Also, relay to Imosen that he is to order the Hobgoblin leaders to stop cultivating more Bear-headed Goblins. Otherwise, we won’t hesitate to replace them with new Goblin leaders.”

“As you command, My lord. Do you have any other orders?” Jack asked.

“Yes. No matter how difficult the Lizardmen’s bloody battle makes it to cross the Great Marsh, I want two elite scout teams dispatched to explore the path through the Great Marsh that connects to the Endless Forest and to reconnoiter the Ant-men’s lair.” Victor gritted his teeth and continued, “Each scout squad will be equipped with one Alchemical Dragon-Lizard, six level-three Gryphon Militiamen with the Vital Tenacity Talent, eight Alchemical Warhounds, and forty alchemical crows. They must leave secret trail markers along the way. If they encounter an Ant-man tide, they are to immediately release the alchemical crows and Red-Eyed Crows to warn Laketon… This is a class-one mission. They are not expected to return alive.”

Two scout squads like that had a total cost of one hundred twenty thousand Gold Sols. Victor was forced to order them on this suicide mission out of necessity. To get the earliest possible intelligence on the Ant-man tide’s movements, he had no choice but to throw money at the problem.

After arranging matters concerning the Alchemy Tower and the forward base, Victor returned to Silver Moon Manor. Nicole and his three personal handmaidens had already prepared dinner. Charlotte Randell (Judy), having received word, had also hurried over from Quicksilver Manor.

The dinner was simple yet exquisite. Including Charlotte, every lady of House Randall had prepared one of her specialty dishes for her husband. There were no outsiders at the table. Victor was about to answer the Church’s beacon fire and travel to the distant Sasan Empire to fight the ferocious Centaurs, with no telling when he would return. Nicole and the others cherished this brief time together with him, just like in any ordinary noble or vassal family, where the wives would see their husbands off to war, allowing no attendants or handmaidens to interfere.

They chatted and laughed, deliberately downplaying the melancholy and reluctance of parting. A simple dinner stretched on for a full two hours. After clearing the table together, Victor temporarily sent Lilia and Elina away, then led Charlotte and Nicole into the lord’s study on the top floor of Silver Moon Manor.

Victor and Nicole sat in the seats of the lord and the lady of the manor respectively. He regarded the sworn female knight, who was dressed in a traditional noblewoman’s long gown, her face lovely and her figure graceful. He smiled and asked, “Charlotte, on this expedition, you will be facing Centaurs and monsters with me. Are you afraid?”

Charlotte’s emerald eyes immediately lit up. Biting her petal-like red lips, she said softly, “I am afraid… but as long as I am with you, My lord, I’m not afraid anymore… I only feel fondness.”

Nicole couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “The war with the beastmen isn’t a hunting excursion,” she chided. “Acting like this, I truly doubt you’ll make it back alive. Don’t forget your duty as a Sworn Knight.”

Charlotte had a gentle nature. Faced with a jealous Nicole, she merely smiled, lifted the hem of her skirt, and curtsied. “Thank you for the Countess’s reminder. I swear to protect the Gold-Eyed Earl with my life and will never be a burden to him.”

Being addressed as “Countess” softened Nicole’s heart. She shook her head and said, “What good can an initial-rank female knight be?”

She stood up and retrieved a crocodile-skin potion case from a secret compartment in the wall cabinet, placing it on the table.

“The Gold Restoration Potions in here will allow you to resonate with twenty-four Elemental Nodes and advance to a senior female knight. Take them and consume them.”

“What?!”

Charlotte cried out in shock. She walked over, opened the case, and saw a total of twelve crystal potion vials inside. The potion in each one was the purest shade of gold, like liquid gold.

“This… can let me advance to a senior knight?” She picked up a vial, her lips slightly parted, her beautiful lake-green eyes darting between Victor and Nicole in disbelief.

“Yes,” Victor nodded slightly and instructed, “The Gold Potion is a secret of the Randall family. No outsider must ever know of it. Even as my Sworn Knight, my intimate partner, you cannot reveal the existence of the Gold Potion to anyone. My dear, please be sure to consume it in the adjacent rest chamber. My man Reno will supervise you to ensure not a single drop is wasted. I estimate it will take you three days to resonate with twenty-four Elemental Nodes. If any of the potion is left, Reno will take it away. If it’s not enough, Nicole will give you more.”

“As you command, my Honored Master.” Charlotte clutched the potion case, her face glowing with happiness. She offered Nicole her sincere thanks, “Thank you, esteemed Countess of the Gold-Eyed Earl.”

Nicole sighed, took Charlotte’s slender hand, and said gently, “Protect yourself, and take care of Victor for me. And… you must come home alive.”

“… I will. I promise…” Charlotte’s eyes grew red. She clutched the potion case with both hands and left the study.

Once she had closed the door, Nicole smoothly settled onto Victor’s lap, wrapping her arms around her lover’s neck. “My dear,” she said worriedly, “I actually want to go with you, too.”

Victor comforted her, “Darling, don’t worry about me. I won’t do things I can’t handle.”

“Then promise me you won’t push yourself for anyone—not for Narsen, not for Charlotte, not for Caligula, not for any of your little Knight’s Squires… oh, and not for Princess Roland.”

The fact that Nicole had added Roland to the list of people to be wary of left Victor at a loss for whether to laugh or cry. He raised two fingers and said, “I swear, I will come back safe and sound and will absolutely not sacrifice myself for anyone.”

“Without attachments, no monster can defeat the Gold-Eyed Earl.” Nicole’s eyelids half-closed as she spoke in a soft but firm voice, “I will guard our home.”

Victor pondered for a moment, then said seriously, “If the Ant-man tide appears, you absolutely must not take any risks. Lady Sylvia can be back from Blinor City within a day to take charge of the bigger picture. From this moment on, I forbid you from entering the Great Marsh. In a crisis, Father Miller can be of great use… This is also a big secret. It’s enough that you know. Don’t tell anyone.”

“Father Miller? I also feel that he’s no ordinary person…” Nicole’s willow-like brows furrowed as she nodded. Then, she broke into a radiant smile and said, “I’ll listen to you in all things, my dear.”

“How are Narsen and the others?” Victor asked.

“After the red beacon fire was lit, Lord Narsen led one hundred eighty Swiftbird light cavalry and three hundred elite cavalry to Goldwater City to await your orders. Red Wolf, Macy, and Rogers are with him.”

Victor nodded. “Send a Red-Eyed Crow to Narsen. Tell him to take the one hundred eighty Swiftbird light cavalry and my Knight’s Squires, with two horses per person, and set out immediately for the rendezvous point at Minsk Fortress. The three hundred elite family cavalry are to be handed to Earl York, under the command of Terlanden. I will stay in the Randell Fief for ten days, and I will catch up with them.”

“Ten days? You’re really going to stay at Silver Moon Manor for ten days?” Nicole asked, pleasantly surprised.

“Of course. I have two secret arts to teach, one for the Elina sisters and one for Lilia. Oh, and also for Father Miller.”

Victor nodded and said thoughtfully, “Also, Aerie Fortress will be sending a few Potion Masters over next month. They are very important to me, but I must also be wary of them… It’s not too late for me to leave after everything has been arranged. In any case, it will take at most ten days for me, Charlotte, Caligula, and the eight Mind Warriors to travel to Minsk Fortress on foot.”

Chapter 606: Octavia

Aerie Fortress, in the Princess Royal’s private garden.

It was the Season of Earth, when spring was warm and the flowers were in full bloom. The garden was a carpet of green grass and a brocade of vibrant blossoms. The artful arrangement of tall trees and low shrubs created a perfect fusion of light and shadow with the natural environment. There were roses basking in the sun, and delicate, shy orchids that preferred the dark, damp shade. This design gave the small garden distinct layers, making it rich and colorful. In the treetops, the melodious songs of larks injected the beautiful garden with the vitality of nature.

The clang of armor approached from a distance. The caroling birds, startled, took wing and flew away, and the garden’s natural, harmonious atmosphere vanished with them.

“Octavia, nineteen years old, an illegitimate daughter with a noble bloodline. Her father was an unknown Bard, her mother a mercenary from the Fire Lion Mercenary Company named Dorothy. Octavia, or Viel for short, had her father abandon her mother before she was even born, fleeing the Fire Lion Mercenary Company and leaving behind only a noble name for his unborn child. When Viel was four, her mother Dorothy was unfortunately stung by a green-tailed scorpion and died from the poison. From then on, Viel lived in the mercenary company with her maternal grandfather, Kelt, the commander of the Fire Lion Mercenary Company. She developed excellent sword skills and is particularly adept with throwing knives. Two years ago, during a battle to clear out Goblins, Kelt was killed by a Bugbear. He had intended to groom his granddaughter, Viel, as his successor. His unexpected death led to internal strife within the Fire Lion Mercenary Company. Viel and her four followers were driven out by the other mercenaries, becoming wandering mercenaries.”

The gaunt and aged Tofwen the Wizard sat in a wooden wheelchair, pushed by an attendant, following behind a female knight completely encased in Mithril armor.

She appeared to be in her twenties, with dark red hair and grey-green eyes. She was tall and slender, with a full forehead and a high-bridged nose. Her features could be considered pretty, but her light brown skin was somewhat dull, which detracted from her overall appearance, making her look like a mercenary weathered by the wind and sun.

“The Red Lion Mercenary Company is actually a front for The Faceless. Viel and her parents are fabrications. However, Octavia’s bloodline certificate is genuine. Over a decade ago, The Faceless used several small Churches to test and register a group of vagrants with noble bloodlines. Viel is one of those identities.” As Tofwen explained this to the red-haired female knight, he gestured for a Mystic Warrior behind him to present the bloodline certificate.

The red-haired female knight in Mithril armor did not take the parchment scroll. With one hand on her hip, she pointed her finger back and forth between four leafy Silver Thorn Trees. Her voice, slightly hoarse, said, “I remember, was it this one… this one… or that one? Ah, forget it. Dig them all up for me!”

Several strong Guards immediately took up axes and shovels, felling the Silver Thorn Trees that symbolized good wishes, digging out their roots, and then excavating the ground beneath them.

Soil flew through the air, and the Princess Royal’s private garden, designed by a master, was instantly ruined.

Tofwen paid it no mind. He brushed the dirt from his knees and had his attendant pull his wheelchair back a few steps, continuing his introduction to the red-haired female knight. “Viel’s four followers consist of two men and two women, two married couples. One is Theodore, thirty-four years old, a Ferocious Warrior who has ignited his fire of the mind, proficient with a shield and halberd…”

“A Ferocious Warrior who has ignited his fire of the mind? How does he compare to Lord Narsen under Victor?” the red-haired female knight’s eyes lit up as she asked with curiosity.

“Ah… Lord Narsen Randall was mentored by the First Sacred Warrior, and the Pontiff himself presided over his body reconstruction. He once personally slayed the Silver Knight Horra Ludwig. There is a considerable gap between Theodore and Narsen, but Theodore is by no means inferior to a senior knight and has a wealth of experience from his life as a mercenary. He is utterly loyal to Your Highness…”

“Alright, alright, they’re all death commandos you’ve prepared for me,” the female knight said, waving a hand to cut Tofwen off. “Tell me about the others.”

“Ruth, thirty years old, Theodore’s wife. A Mystic Swordswoman at the initial-rank Knight level who wields dual swords. She is proficient in healing and Potion-making, especially skilled at concocting poisons.”

“Todd, twenty-seven years old, a Mystic Tracker at the initial-rank Knight level. He is proficient in archery, animal taming, trapping, and Tracking. A master of wilderness survival and one of The Faceless’s best scout-hunters.”

“Penny, nineteen years old, a Mystic Assassin at the initial-rank Knight level. She is skilled with shortswords, daggers, and a long whip, and is proficient in disguise, reconnaissance, stealth, and assassination techniques. Your Highness will certainly have use for her in towns.”

Tofwen paused for breath, then had his attendant present the bloodline certificate and two other parchment scrolls to the red-haired female knight. “Your Highness, one of these is a list of The Faceless’s secret agents; the other is the formula for the Face-Altering Potion. Ruth can concoct it. Please remember, Princess, the Face-Altering Potion must be taken once every five months. The moment you use your Aura, the potion will become ineffective. And your peerless beauty would be a great hindrance to your experience of mercenary life. Of course, even without using your Aura, Your Highness could easily defeat an initial-rank Silver Knight.”

“Hmph, you old fellow are of some use after all.”

The female knight casually took the three parchment scrolls. Her grey-green eyes transformed into a shade of jade, as deep and bottomless as a secluded pool. Her hair shed its dark red hue, revealing the purest platinum blonde. Her slightly coarse skin regained its former fairness and radiance. Her merely pretty face instantly became luminously, incomparably beautiful, and her noble, perfect bearing transformed the female mercenary into the nation-toppling Princess Royal Roland.

She glanced at the formula for the Face-Altering Potion and raised her elegant brows, questioning, “Why are the ingredients for this formula so rare and precious? Do you think I, a disgraced and expelled female mercenary leader, can afford these herbs?”

“Not only can you not afford them, you cannot even buy them.”

A knowing smile appeared on the old Wizard’s face. He shook his head and explained, “You are a Gold Knight, after all. The ingredients for a potion to conceal the face of a Gold Knight are naturally not ordinary. The raw materials for the Face-Altering Potion will be supplied by Aerie Fortress.”

“You dare to tie me down?”

Roland narrowed her eyes, staring at the old Wizard like a saber-toothed beast eyeing its prey. The air around them instantly grew icy and damp, the killing intent thick as frost, making one feel as if they had been plunged into a frigid abyss.

The Faceless’s secret art death commandos and the Knights of the Household Department stood motionless, yet a layer of white frost formed on their leather armor. The Deputy Director of the Household Department and Vice-Chief of The Faceless, the Silver rank earth Knight Earl Folt, stepped between Roland and Tofwen, shaking his head firmly at the Princess Royal.

“Your Highness Roland, you must not.”

Tofwen, however, said with complete indifference, “With the Church lighting the red beacon fire this time, mercenaries and Rangers from all the human kingdoms will flock to the Sasan Empire. If not for the King of Beastmen’s army in the Northern Wildlands, even if Your Highness defeats the Sidon Centaurs, there would still be countless beastmen bandits to clear out in the Sasan Empire’s pioneer fiefs and heartlands. The next decade or so will be a great opportunity for the Legendary Ranger Octavia to show her skills.”

“You will need help, Your Highness Roland Auguste.”

The strange phenomenon in the garden abruptly vanished. Roland whistled and corrected him in a crisp voice, “The King of Mercenaries, the legendary female Ranger Octavia, needs help.”

Tofwen pushed aside Folt who stood before him and said to Roland with a chuckle, “That list records The Faceless’s secret agents. They will provide the legendary female Ranger Octavia with all assistance, including relaying information and transporting the materials for the Face-Altering Potion.”

“Put them away.”

Roland tossed the three parchment scrolls to her personal handmaiden, then pointed at her and said to Tofwen, “Arrange an identity for Emily as well.”

“As you wish, Your Highness,” the old Wizard nodded in agreement.

Just then, a guard lifted a long box from one of the pits. He walked to Roland’s side and knelt, presenting it to her.

“Your Highness, we’ve found it.”

The box was crafted from expensive Adamantine, decorated with pure element crystals as gems. The exquisite embossed patterns displayed extremely fine craftsmanship. Roland took out a strangely shaped key, inserted it into the lock of the Adamantine box, and with a light twist, the latch clicked open. She lifted the lid and took out a sheathed longsword from within.

The longsword had a crocodile-skin scabbard and a copper crossguard. Compared to the Adamantine box that held it, it could only be described as crudely made. Its only redeeming feature was perhaps the hilt, which was polished smooth from use, giving it a sense of historical vicissitude.

Roland drew the longsword, flicking her wrist to create a flourish of ethereal blue light. The blade hummed like the buzzing wings of wild bees. When the sword’s light settled, a blue luminescence flowed across the blade, revealing a swirling, layered pattern.

The hundred-forged steel-cladding technique was superb, but it was still just a refined iron longsword.

Roland raised the sword, blew a breath across the blade, and said with delight, “This is it. The late Queen Eline’s sword.”

“This was my great-great-grandfather’s sword. When my mother, Eline, was seventeen, she wanted to become a Ranger. She stole this sword and ran away from home. Then, she met Ryan. They travelled together as Rangers for three months before he tricked her into coming to Aerie Fortress, where she became the Queen of Gambis.”

“Three years later, Eline became pregnant. When she was ten months along, she begged Ryan to bury this sword, along with her dream of being a Ranger, in the garden. Ryan buried Eline’s sword and planted a Silver Thorn Tree to mark the spot.”

As she spoke, Roland was moved by her own words. She raised the refined iron longsword and declared firmly, “Eline and Ryan are in their eternal slumber, but their love endures, and so does their daughter. Now, I, Roland Auguste, daughter of the late King Ryan and the late Queen Eline, will use my mother’s sword to fulfill the shared dream of all three of us—to become a Ranger sung of in epics.”

Tofwen was silent for a full ten seconds before sighing, his words muffled by his toothless mouth, “I never thought… you would still remember.”

“I don’t remember. I wasn’t even three when my mother died. I didn’t understand anything. She never told me about this, and neither did Ryan,” Roland said softly, shaking her head, her eyes glistening.

Folt and Tofwen exchanged glances. Folt tentatively asked, “Then… who told Your Highness?”

“No one told me. Ryan and Eline didn’t tell anyone. It was their little secret.” A faint smile played on Roland’s lips as she looked at Folt with profound eyes. “How did this garden come to be?”

The Deputy Director of the Household Department thought for a moment before answering, “Back then, before you were born. One night, Ryan quietly planted four Silver Thorn Trees by himself, praying for the late Queen Eline’s health and long life… Later, we designed this small garden based on those four wishing trees.”

Roland nodded. With the longsword in one hand, she brushed aside a strand of hair blown astray by the wind and said softly, “When I broke through to the Gold realm and roamed the Elemental Sea, all my memories awakened, including those from before I was born. I heard what she said to Ryan from inside my Mother’s womb… Bury this sword, don’t let our child think about a mother of humble bloodline… Ryan did as she asked. The night after he fell, I dreamt of him. He told me that my hope was buried beneath the Silver Thorn Tree in the back garden…”

Earl Folt’s face was a mask of shock, while Tofwen’s eyes blazed with fanaticism as he muttered, “Victor’s theory of the Mind and Bloodline is correct! An individual’s life is finite, but the consciousness of the collective is infinite. The Creator’s will lies hidden in the depths of every person’s mind. The Elemental Sea is both the origin of the world and an ocean of collective consciousness… So that’s why the Knight-path bloodline secret art he designed emphasizes the tempering of the mind… I understand, I understand now! A Knight’s bloodline is related to the mind, to the soul… No wonder those female apprentice knights who bear the offspring of High-ranked Knights can never advance again. They nurture their descendants with their souls, suffering an incurable wound…”

Roland gripped the hilt of her sword, her thin, willow-like brows furrowing as she said coldly, “Old man, should I hate you, or should I thank you?”

Folt suddenly understood. When Roland was little, she had adored Tofwen. Now that she had advanced to Gold Knight and recovered all her memories, it was no wonder she no longer felt close to him. However, despite holding the late Queen Eline’s sword, Roland showed no killing intent towards the old Wizard. Folt took a half-step forward and pleaded, “Your Highness…”

“Everyone must face choices.”

The old wizard laboriously turned the wheels of his chair, pushing past Earl Folt who was pleading for him, and looked directly at Roland. “And everyone must bear the consequences of their choices… The most terrifying thing is to have no choice at all. Nobles will always have more choices than Commoners, the extraordinary will always have more choices than mortals, and a liege lord will always have more choices than a vassal. The late Queen Eline chose to bear a child for Ryan. I had no right to interfere, and I have a clear conscience.”

“If Your Highness wishes to kill me to vent your anger, I can only accept my death. But the late Queen’s sacrifice can only be blamed on Ryan for falling in love with an ordinary noblewoman.”

Tofwen sighed deeply, shaking his head. “Child, my time is short. This will likely be our last meeting. Please listen to a piece of my advice: never fall in love with a mortal… It is destined to be a tragedy.”

Roland snorted, sheathed the longsword, and tossed it to a Faceless Mystic Warrior. “Give this sword to Octavia’s body double. Have her take it to Bronze-Halberd City in the Sasan Empire. I will find them when the time is right.”

Tofwen showed a complex smile, a mix of reluctance and gratification. He nodded, then added earnestly, “The beastmen war is extremely dangerous. Your Highness must protect yourself. Also, do not cause trouble for Neo Wester. You are not yet his match… Your Highness’s sudden disappearance at such a convenient time will surely make Victor suspect Neo Wester. In that case, unless Neo Wester agrees to Victor’s original demand and declares the end of the Randt Empire, His Highness Randell will never let the Neo Wester family go, if only to clear his own name… Once Neo Wester loses his status as a liege lord, when he reaches the Southern Continent, will you still fear you won’t have a chance to deal with him?”

“Furthermore, this beastmen war is a great opportunity for us, for Gambis. The longer the war remains at a stalemate, the greater the Sasan Empire’s losses will be, and the more the lords of the human kingdoms will desire land on the South bank of the Goldwater River. When Gambis begins its expansion south of the river, Knights, Nobles, Rangers, and mercenaries will flock to us. Our Auguste family will establish a great Empire spanning the Goldwater River! How could such a magnificent achievement not include the Legendary Ranger Octavia? Unveiling the mysteries of the Southern Continent will surely be more interesting than fighting beastmen in the Northern Wildlands.”

Roland tilted her head, watching the old man speak with spittle flying from his mouth. She smiled faintly and said, “Are you afraid I won’t come back?”

Tofwen closed his mouth. After a moment, he shook his head and chuckled. “Not anymore… The blood of the Auguste family flows in your veins. Your great-grandfather took me in as his adopted son. If he didn’t care for the August family, why would I? Your grandfather cared for the August family, your father cared for the August family, and you won’t fail to care either… Hasn’t the Elemental Sea already told you that?”

“…Roland, I just can’t bear to part with you.” Tofwen’s voice was low and sorrowful as he raised a sleeve to wipe the tears from the corners of his eyes.

Roland’s heart was a mix of emotions. This hard-hearted Chief of The Faceless was utterly loyal to her branch of the Auguste family, having dedicated his entire life’s work to them.

He has no wife or children. He cherished me like the apple of his eye. Besides the King of Gambis, only I could freely enter and leave his laboratory. Even when I was a mischievous child and knocked over his experiments, he never blamed me, only patiently comforted me… Perhaps he was moved by my parents’ love… Now, he is just an old man in his twilight years.

Roland thought to herself, then walked forward and knelt before the wheelchair. Just as she had as a child, she gently embraced the wizened wizard, then stood and placed a soft kiss on his forehead.

“Thank you, Grandpa Tofwen. I’m leaving. Take care.”

Leaving the weeping Tofwen behind, Princess Royal Roland Auguste put on her helmet and gave the order, “Let’s go. To the assembly point at Minsk Fortress.”

Chapter 607: Assembly

In the realm of Mind Bloodline secret arts, Victor was the undisputed master. He spent a few days designing a Forging Method for Father Miller aimed at prolonging his life and nourishing his mind. At the same time, he passed on two other Forging Methods he had conceived back at the royal manor on Lake Basse to Lilia, the sisters Elina and Nicole, and the other young noble attendants.

These two Forging Methods had very simple Root Talents and lacked the potential for talent transformation. Precisely because of their simplicity, their cultivation effects were remarkably potent. One was a secret art for enhancing beauty and fitness while improving perception and balance, designed specifically for Lilia, Elina, and Nicole.

Lilia had trained arduously in the Griffin Mystic Form. After three body reconstructions, her stamina, strength, and vitality were three times that of an ordinary person, and her combat skills were exceptional. Elina and Nicole were apprentice knights to begin with; by taking a Gold Potion, they could resonate with eleven Elemental Nodes and become senior apprentice knights. The three of them were more than capable of handling most emergencies. Improving their perception and balance would help them escape—for instance, keen hearing and sight would allow them to spot enemies first, while an outstanding sense of balance would let them surmount obstacles and traverse complex terrain.

In short, Victor didn’t need them to fight, but he wanted them to have the ability to flee for their lives. As for beauty and fitness, this was born from the three women’s own strong desires. Victor cleverly grafted the bloodline Forging Methods for beauty, fitness, perception, and balance together. The more beautiful they became through practicing this secret art, the stronger their physical functions, perception, and balance would be. However, with their life force expressed externally, their lifespans would not be very long. Lilia would live to seventy at most, only slightly longer than an ordinary person. Elina and Nicole were a little better off, but they would only reach the average seventy-five-year lifespan of an initial-rank apprentice knight. This was even with the Forging Method locking their reproductive bloodline; otherwise, their lifespans wouldn’t exceed fifty years.

Victor was no god; this was the best he could do with the beauty-enhancing Forging Method he designed. In any case, Lilia and the others could not have children with Victor, and no matter how long they lived, they would not outlive their husband. A life of aged loneliness was worse than staying by their husband’s side.

The beauty Forging Method had another benefit: it only required a general Beauty Potion. Although Beauty Potions were closely linked to life vitality, making their ingredients exceptionally rare and their production cost twenty times that of a Strength Potion, for Victor, none of this was an issue. The other Forging Method, intended for the young nobles, was a different story. It was essentially an ordinary knight’s bloodline Forging Method and required the yet-to-be-developed Dawn Potion.

Victor could only have the young noble attendants of Silver Moon Manor practice for now. Once Sylvia obtained the formula for the Dawn Potion, he would design a more advanced Divine Blood Secret Art based on the effects of their training and potion consumption.

Miller, on the other hand, had no need for the Dreamhaze Potion’s assistance. He easily entered a state of deep meditation and encountered no difficulties cultivating the Forging Method derived from the Golden Toad Stance and the Ox-Subduing Stance.

The deep meditation of the Golden Toad Mystic Form was the key to balancing the body and nourishing the mind. As long as one did not construct complex soul talents, other Forging Methods and Body-strengthening Potions served only an auxiliary role. Miller confirmed the mind-nourishing effect of this Forging Method, and his success made Victor quite envious. A God-favored was essentially a Wizard. If a mind-nourishing Forging Method was effective for Miller, it should also work for Imosen. Unfortunately, Imosen’s talent for physical training was truly abysmal; he couldn’t even master the most basic level-one Source Blood Secret Art, let alone a more advanced mind-nourishing method.

The safety of the Dreamhaze Potion had not yet been proven over time, so Victor would not risk letting the Wizards under his command take it. A Mind Bloodline Forging Method suitable for Imosen and his daughter would have to be put on hold.

However, the cheerful Father Miller intentionally or unintentionally revealed a piece of information to Victor:

The Church’s High-ranked Priests also had a unique meditation method, specifically used to coordinate holy power, Divine Art Models, inner potential, external force, and the mind. It was possible that the High-ranked Priests’ meditation method had drawn inspiration from the Wizard meditation methods pioneered by the Council of the Chosen.

Victor took this to heart. On the morning of the ninth day, he left Randell Fief and headed for the assembly point at Minsk Fortress. He took Caligula, Charlotte, eight Alchemical Soldiers, and thirty-six level-three Gryphon Militiamen with him, but left Reno and Shak with Nicole.

Narsen and the Randall personal guard had already set out from Goldwater City ten days prior. The personal guard, numbering one hundred and eighty, was Victor’s most elite Swiftbird light cavalry, which included twenty Crouching Ox Militiamen, fifty Lithe Ape militiamen, seventy Alchemical auxiliary soldiers equipped with the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form, and forty sons of his vassals.

Victor’s Alchemical militia were scattered throughout the human kingdoms. By taking the personal guard, a void was created in the core of the House of Randell’s army. Fortunately, the Alchemy Tower was producing a limitless supply of level-three Gryphon Militiamen with the Vital Tenacity Talent. Their Elemental Attributes were comparable to a mid-rank Knight, and in real combat, each could overwhelm four ordinary Alchemical militiamen simultaneously.

Before departing, Victor told Nicole that, if necessary, Reno or Shak could help her mobilize a contingent of powerful Mystic Warriors, but that their memories had been wiped. They were wooden and dull, and would require some patience to command.

Nicole understood implicitly and naturally didn’t ask any further questions.

Victor bid farewell to Nicole and his three personal handmaidens, then led his entourage north on foot along the Silvermoon River. Although the thirty Gryphon Militiamen lacked the Vital Tenacity Talent, and their stamina and muscle fatigue recovery were a far cry from the Alchemical Soldiers, they still possessed an 18-point Physique and a 17-point Perception. Their endurance and speed were in no way inferior to a mid-rank Knight’s. Carrying four hundred pounds of equipment and supplies, they could march continuously for thirty hours at a speed of forty-five kilometers per hour and still maintain full combat effectiveness. Crossing mountains and ridges was even less of a challenge.

The party set out that day, and by sunset, Victor had arrived in Goldwater City. He had a brief meeting with Duke York, Lady Katerina, the expeditionary force commander Earl Terlanden, and deputy commander Viscount Jiris.

Lady Katerina informed Victor that the two Knights, eight apprentice knights, and forty Mystic Warriors he had dispatched from Rose Manor had been formed into two knight squads and had already departed with Narsen. Terlanden and Jiris would set out in ten days with two thousand main cavalry troops. The three thousand mercenary soldiers raised by the various families were also ready and would head to the assembly point at Whitewater Fortress in the Dodor Kingdom in three days.

The mercenary legions of the Centaur Hills all used the standardized training methods jointly developed by Victor and Katerina, so there would be no problem with coordination between the mercenary soldiers from different families. Their responsibility was only to protect the military operation for the southward migration of Sasan refugees. The two thousand elite cavalry were the ones who would fight the tough battles against the beastmen. Terlanden and Jiris were Silver Knights from the York family’s previous generation. For this war, they had resonated with thirty-six Elemental Nodes, advancing to become Silver-rank Earth Knights. Each had five standard knight squads under their command as assistants.

The York family had dispatched a total of two Earth Knights, twelve Knights, and forty-eight apprentice knights. These knights had all taken the Gold Potion, but the supply was limited, so not everyone could be promoted to senior knight. Even for a senior knight, surviving the brutal beastman war depended on luck, and High-ranked Knights were prime targets for the Savage Centaurs.

Including Nicole, the Centaur Hills had only ten Great Knights in total. Sending two Silver Knights to participate in the beastman war was a great sacrifice, and Victor felt a sense of sorrow. However, Terlanden and Jiris chatted and laughed freely, completely unconcerned about the dangers of war, and even seemed quite excited.

For them, was this not an opportunity to connect with the Elemental Sea and achieve half-goldenization?

As the Guardian of the Gambis Kingdom, Victor had no authority to remove them from the most dangerous front lines. For thousands of years, dying on the battlefield fighting beastman invaders was a knight’s most romantic destiny. If Victor were to truly use his connection with Roland to let the Great Knights of the Centaur Hills avoid the most intense battles, it would inevitably bring them an indelible sense of shame, which would be no less than severing their Knight’s Path.

The only thing Victor could do was assign each of them twelve level-three Gryphon Militiamen as guards and forbid them from probing into the militiamen’s origins.

It would be useless to ask anyway; the Alchemical militia would never reveal any secrets.

In truth, the core leadership of the Centaur Hills had some knowledge of the House of Randell’s Mind Warriors. Besides, this was not the time for secrecy. Alchemical militia could be replaced by spending money at the Alchemy Tower, but the Great Knights of the Centaur Hills were irreplaceable.

The next morning, Victor left Goldwater City and headed straight for Raven Town in the far north. It took him two days and one night to reach his destination, where he met Sophia, who was there to placate the barbarians.

The Church had mobilized half of the clergy in the Gambis Kingdom but had not dispatched any clergy from the Centaur Hills to the Sasan Empire. The Sidon Centaurs’ attack on the Sasan Pioneer Fief was fraught with suspicion, and the Church’s upper echelons were on alert. They knew full well that if the Gambis Kingdom, their great rear, were to suddenly be breached by the Ant-men, then all would truly be lost. Gambis retained the bulk of its army, guarding against threats from the west of the Centaur Hills. The Radiant Knights and the Curia said nothing, but they transferred Priest Duncan and one thousand five hundred Sacred Warriors from Raven Town, leaving only five hundred behind.

The barbarians could not be allowed to cause trouble at this time. Sophia would hold the fort in Raven Town until Sylvia returned to the Centaur Hills.

Victor and his wife, Sophia, paid a joint visit to Elder Harald, explaining in detail the war being fought by the human kingdoms in the north. This legendary barbarian hero showed great interest in hunting powerful centaurs, because once they crossed the Goldwater River, they would sooner or later clash with the centaurs of the Southern Continent. But Victor refused Harald’s request to join the human allies in battle.

Barbarian berserkers were fierce and skilled in combat. If they were to clash with the wild centaurs, it would be impossible to hold them back. If Elder Harald were to die in battle, how could Sophia answer to Halotes Fortress?

The Sasan Empire was still counting on the barbarian tribes to guard the Great Rift of the Arreat Plateau and hold back the locust-like Grayhollow Satyrs.

Harald was a calm and steady barbarian elder who respected the power possessed by Sophia Urus’s husband. He took out a bracelet polished from beast bone and gave it to Victor, stating that with this token of his status as a legendary hero, Victor could seek aid from the barbarians at Halotes Fortress.

Victor was both surprised and delighted, gaining a new appreciation for the elder’s strategic vision. Allowing the barbarian tribes to intervene in the war between the human kingdoms and the beastmen was by no means a good choice, but the resources of Mount Arreat and the trade with the barbarians were crucial to The Golden Company and, by extension, the Gambis Kingdom. By the same token, if the Sasan Empire fell, the mountain tribes would lose the material support provided by their human allies, and sooner or later, the barbarians would have to descend from the mountains to compete with the beastmen for living space.

Although it is easier to invite a god than to send him away, and it was best not to ask the barbarians to come down from the mountains, one could not hesitate when the time came to ask.

Of course, Victor was fully confident in defeating the beastman army. The human kingdoms of today were not in the same state as under the Pope’s rule, when knight-lords and the Church’s clergy were divided. Noble clergy now held great power within the Church, and the New Covenant of Light, jointly established by the secular lords and the Church, had unified the ideology of the human kingdoms. Otherwise, how could the tenant system proposed by Victor have been implemented so smoothly across the human kingdoms?

The current war potential of the human kingdoms was far beyond what the beastmen could imagine. Even if there truly was a King of Beastmen behind the Sidon Centaurs, it was impossible for him to crush humanity. The longer the war remained at a stalemate, the sooner the beastman alliance would collapse from within—this was a consensus held by both the Church and the secular lords.

What the Highnesses of the various kingdoms and the leadership of the Church were thinking was how to preserve the strength of the human kingdoms as much as possible in this sudden war, to prevent the burgeoning development of the kingdoms from suffering a serious setback. If too many people died, it would take twenty to thirty years of recuperation to recover.

Victor accepted the barbarian’s token and expressed his sincere gratitude to Elder Harald. Then, he and Sophia returned to Raven Castle. Behind closed doors, the couple exchanged all the intelligence they possessed, engaging in a very deep discussion.

The Wimbledon Merchant Association was well-informed. Information transmitted by their caravans in the Sasan Empire and the Dodor Kingdom indicated that the various kingdoms were continuously transporting soldiers and military supplies to the Sasan Empire through Dodor’s traditional trade routes. The Dodor lords and resident priests were doing their best to coordinate, but due to poor road conditions, transport was still congested, especially near Whitewater Fortress. A large number of carts were lined up to cross the great bridge spanning the Whitewater River. Many transport convoys had to abandon the most direct route through the 12 holy cities of the Great Plains, opting instead for a long detour, venturing through the uninhabited areas of the Worton Plains to enter Sasan territory.

The 12 holy cities of the Great Plains were overwhelmed. They only permitted armies and convoys to pass through, strictly forbidding travelers from entering the cities to rest and resupply. This was, in effect, a ban on urban refugees from the Sasan Empire fleeing south. Large numbers of refugees flocked to the western part of the Sasan Empire, the sphere of influence of the Baselius family.

On another front, the Dodor Kingdom had withdrawn its army from the pioneer efforts in the Ghost Forest, reorganizing them in preparation to aid the Sasan Empire. Only a small number of elites and some mercenary companies were left to guard the pioneer points near the Ghost Forest. Victor’s Bear Company was one of the main forces among them. Although the Dodor Kingdom offered a generous bounty, hoping the mercenary companies would stay and guard the Ghost Forest pioneer points, the withdrawal of Dodor’s main cavalry had allowed the prairie Gnolls to become active again, placing The Bear Company and other mercenary companies under immense pressure.

Victor had originally wanted The Bear Company to stand by at one of the holy cities on the plains to meet the three thousand mercenary soldiers from the Centaur Hills and assist the mercenary legion in evacuating the urban refugees from the Sasan Empire to the south. But after hearing what Sophia said, he immediately realized this plan was unworkable.

Once The Bear Company left its post, the Dodor Kingdom’s pioneer point in the Ghost Forest would be indefensible. The moment The Bear Company arrived at any holy city on the plains, it would immediately be conscripted by Sasan lords and sent to the front lines to fight the beastmen. Moreover, the 12 holy cities of the Great Plains had closed their gates to refugees, who had all fled to the western part of the Sasan Empire. Even if the holy cities were now open to Sasan refugees, the mercenary legion from the Centaur Hills would have no one to transport.

Victor made a snap decision, issuing two separate orders: he commanded The Bear Company to hold its position and await aid, and he commanded the three thousand mercenaries to report to Raven Town and await orders.

The pioneer point in the Ghost Forest was located to the west of the Warton Great Plains, north of the Dodor Kingdom and the Centaur Hills, and south of the Baselius family’s territory. It perfectly connected the western Sasan Empire to the Centaur Hills in a single line.

Since the urban refugees from the Sasan Empire were all crowded in the west, why not rely on the pioneer points established by the Dodor kingdom in the Ghost Forest to create a new trade route connecting the western Sasan Empire to the Centaur Hills and transport the population directly there?

Rather than letting The Bear Company and the three thousand mercenaries be used as cannon fodder by the Sasan lords on the front lines, it would be better for them to cooperate with the Dodor Kingdom to strike at the prairie Gnolls and open a new lifeline.

The issues involved were highly complex, requiring clever groundwork and careful planning, and could not be put into action right away. Victor temporarily set the matter aside and discussed with Sophia in detail the rescue of Jacob, the issue of Ludwig and the kingdom’s fiscal reforms, and requested that the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence find a way to reclaim the position of Minister of Finance.

Sophia had enough time to sort through her thoughts, but Victor did not have time to stay in Raven Town and think things over with her. The two agreed on a method of communication, and Victor then departed with his entourage. Traveling east from Raven Town, he arrived at the Minsk Fortress assembly point five days later.

At this time, there were still eighteen days until the most elite vanguard of the Gambis Kingdom was set to depart. The high-ranked knight squads from The Five Great Families were arriving one after another.

Chapter 608: Deciding the Strategy

The sun crested the horizon, its brilliant dawn light waking the towering Minsk Fortress. The soldiers of the Gambis Kingdom’s vanguard filed out of the fortress barracks, led their warhorses from the stables, and walked them around to check on their steeds’ condition and warm up their bodies. They then began to organize their gear, strapping their personal supplies securely and placing them at the feet of their packhorses. Once they had finished their pre-departure preparations, the soldiers gathered in small groups, chatting and laughing. Not a trace of pre-battle tension could be seen on their faces, as if this thousand-kilometer journey to provide aid was nothing more than an ordinary long-distance trip. The sun glinted off their armor and weapons, reflecting tiny shards of cold light.

Their demeanor was relaxed, yet they exuded a palpable killing intent, like a pride of lions before a hunt.

The vanguard of the Gambis Kingdom was composed of the most elite warriors from each of the great families, with a total force of 1,126 men.

The Auguste royal family dispatched one Gold Knight, two Silver Knights, eighteen Bronze Knights, eighty apprentice knights, one hundred Mystic Warriors, and two hundred elite cavalry, for a total of four hundred and one men, plus one hundred six-legged Swift Dragon war beasts.

The four suzerain families—Joshua, Wellington, Chapman, and Nim—each sent a standard high-ranked knight squadron led by a Silver Knight, with three Bronze Knights, twelve apprentice knights, thirty Mystic Warriors, and seventy elite cavalry. Each squadron numbered one hundred and sixteen men, for a total of four hundred and sixty-four.

The York queen’s family dispatched one Legendary archer, one renowned Ferocious Warrior, three senior knights, eleven apprentice knights, sixty-four Mystic Warriors, and one hundred and eighty elite cavalry, for a total of two hundred and sixty-one men, plus one hundred and eighty Swiftbird war-fowl.

Compared to the number of knights sent by the Auguste royal family, the force deployed by the York queen’s family seemed somewhat meager. However, under Victor’s command were Narsen, a Ferocious Warrior comparable to a high-ranked Silver Knight, and Caligula, who possessed the Touch of the Mind. The Ferocious Warriors from the other great families were a far cry from these two in both combat strength and danger sense. As for the Mystic Warriors, eight Alchemical Soldiers and twelve level-three Gryphon Militiamen had all mastered the Vibration Secret Art. In terms of individual strength, none were inferior to a mid-rank Bronze Knight. The Alchemical Soldiers, in particular, possessed the three innate talents of Combat Acuity, Vital Tenacity, and Active Adaptation. They were naturally skilled at coordinated combat; the greater their numbers, the stronger their fighting force. Even a Silver Knight would be doomed if entangled by them. As for the Swiftbird light cavalry, half were Alchemical militia, each with the combat power of a senior apprentice knight.

When calculated this way, the gap between the vanguards of the York queen’s family and the Auguste royal family was not large; it was simply that the elites of the other great families were unaware of their true strength.

The warriors from the Centaur Hills, uniformly clad in eye-catching six-legged crocodile Vine-hide armor, formed their own units. They sat silently on the ground, a stark contrast to the other soldiers who were conversing and getting to know one another. Their fine equipment and grim, murderous aura gradually became a topic of discussion among the vanguard’s officers and men.

However, whenever a soldier’s comments went too far, their knightly liege would reprimand them in a low voice or skillfully turn the criticism into envy.

The knights of the great families all knew that the warriors from the Centaur Hills were not under the command of Her Highness Roland Auguste. They were an army unto themselves, coordinating only with His Highness Randall, and thus had no need to socialize with the others.

Aside from the hulking Knight Berg from the Chapman family and Baron Eskri, a Great Knight from the Glory Knights, no one else took the initiative to greet and exchange pleasantries with Lord Narsen of the Centaur Hills.

It was said that they had forged a friendship during the Ant-man plague and were old friends.

Inside the Knight’s Hall of Minsk Fortress, the commanders of the vanguard sat around a large table. They were all exceptionally beautiful high-ranking female knights, with the exception of His Highness Randall, who had dark black hair and unusual dark gold eyes, and sat at the head of the table.

As the only man present, Victor felt more than a little awkward at that moment.

“Seeing you, my ladies, leading the troops out to battle, I can rest easy.” Roland, clad in an exquisitely crafted suit of Mithril armor, let her emerald eyes sweep across the room. Her usual innocent and mischievous style was gone, replaced by the mature and confident bearing of a supreme commander. But when her gaze landed on a silver female knight with shapely brows, phoenix eyes, and honey-toned skin, she suddenly blinked. The corner of her mouth curled into a teasing arc as she nodded and said, “Gillian Chapman, you are an exception.”

A chorus of crisp, pleasant laughter instantly filled the hall.

Men would always be the mainstream in war, and male knights made up the vast majority of the vanguard. Yet, all the great families had tacitly appointed high-ranking female knights to command their vanguard forces. This was because the combat style of high-ranking female knights was completely different from that of male Great Knights. For silver female knights with an affinity for the water element, their stunning beauty was merely a byproduct. They possessed delicate minds, calm heads, and a combination of strength and speed. Their self-healing abilities and stamina surpassed those of male Great Knights, making them exceptionally suited for surprise attacks and mobile operations behind enemy lines.

The appointment of high-ranking female knights as commanders for each family’s vanguard determined the tactics the army would employ. In fact, the vanguard forces sent by the other kingdoms to the Sasan Empire would surely also choose high-ranking female knights as their commanders.

The Chapman family’s bloodline was unusual; the men had an affinity for the water element, while the women had an affinity for the earth element. Gillian Chapman was the only high-ranking knight in the hall with an affinity for the earth element.

Although the Chapman family had just become the suzerain of the Southern Realm families after taking control of Copper City and still lacked sufficient high-end martial power, the entire Copper City bloodline had seven Great Knights. Four of them were high-ranked knights from the Chapman family’s core faction, and three of those were Silver Knights with an affinity for the water element. There was no reason for the youngest family heir to be sent to battle. She wasn’t even an Earth Knight yet.

Gillian raised an eyebrow and said coolly, “I’m not slow at all. Even a Silver-rank Ant-man chief couldn’t catch me. The Gold-Eyed Earl can attest to that.”

Silly girl, the Ant-man chiefs were carrying the Alchemy Tower’s resources and were in a hurry to get back to their nest. They wanted to wear you down first before killing you to avoid being killed by you in a counter-attack. Did you really think a four-legged Silver Ant-man couldn’t outrun you… Victor complained internally. His dark gold eyes shifted slightly as he addressed Roland in a low, steady voice, “I happen to need a Great Knight with an affinity for the earth element to coordinate with. Let Gillian come with me… I will not interfere with the Chapman family’s main reinforcements that will follow.”

Roland replied succinctly, “Alright.”

Gillian couldn’t stop the corners of her mouth from turning up. Her charmingly defined chin also lifted, and the look of smug happiness was impossible to hide.

What a naive and lucky Great Knight… all the high-ranking female knights present thought to themselves.

The Chapman family’s situation was rather unique. Their family bloodline came from an external source and was not of the true line of the Copper City bloodline. It was suitable for marriage alliances with high-ranked knights, but its potential was limited, a point of contention for the families of the Southern Realm. They had just taken control of Copper City and had not yet completed their integration of the Southern Realm when the Church lit the red smoke beacon fire, disrupting the Chapman family’s plans. The lords of the Copper City bloodline had fought with Aerie Fortress for centuries and were especially worried that the Auguste family would sacrifice their high-ranked knights. By sending the family heir, Gillian, Earl and Lady Chapman were sending a two-fold message. First, it was to set an example for the families of the Southern Realm and simultaneously demonstrate Copper City’s trust in Aerie Fortress; the Chapman family would lead the southern lords in improving their relationship with the Royal Family. Second, the Chapman family was likely about to change its heir.

Rumor had it that Young Lady Chapman was particularly infatuated with His Highness Randall and was unwilling to get close to the young knight the Auguste family had sent for a marriage alliance with the Chapman house. Her little brother, on the other hand, was getting along well with his marriage partner from Aerie Fortress. From this, it seemed Gillian would have no offspring. If the Chapman family wanted to follow the example of the Wellingtons, Joshuas, and Nims by forming a marriage alliance with the Auguste family to replace their family bloodline, they would have no choice but to select Gillian’s little brother as the family heir.

The problem lay with Gillian. Knowing full well that she and Victor would have no offspring, she was still unwilling to leave her lover. She had abandoned her responsibility as the family heir, so the family had to sever ties with her.

The brief exchange between Their Highnesses, Randall and Auguste, clarified both sides’ positions. The Centaur Hills would take in Gillian Chapman but would not interfere with the marriage alliance between Aerie Fortress and Copper City.

The Chapman family was determined to replace the mainstream bloodline of Copper City and actively align with the mainstream politics of Gambis. Having their heir, who represented the old bloodline, join the vanguard was an unmistakable political signal, but Gillian seemed completely unaware. Judging by her behavior, she probably volunteered to lead Copper City’s vanguard herself. She may have done it simply to fight alongside her lover, not realizing her decision had utterly disappointed her family.

In any case, Gillian joining the expedition served the interests of the Joshua, Wellington, and Nim families. The high-ranking female knights let out ambiguous laughs, using envious and teasing words to praise Gillian’s pursuit of love, thereby concealing the cold, rational nature of family politics. The exceptions were Margaret Wellington and Princess Roland.

Margaret was cool and proud, her heart as pure as crystal, and she disdained to hide her inner thoughts. Her gaze towards Gillian was filled with incomprehension and confusion.

Could one really give up the right of inheritance for a brief love? Or did she simply not realize the consequences? How could there be such a foolish Great Knight?

Roland’s eyes, however, were filled with admiration and approval for Gillian. A love that came from the true self, that honored the true self, was pure and passionate, perfectly aligning with her own aesthetic sensibilities.

Roland considered Gillian a kindred spirit and would have loved to get close to her, but she was in the role of an army commander, and now was not the time for chatting and amusement.

“The last time the Church lit the red smoke beacon fire was three thousand years ago. The rules and traditions for the red smoke beacon fire were established in the first year of the Radiant Calendar, and there is only one rule… answer the call and send troops in support. How to support? How to fight? That is for the relief forces to decide… who would feel at ease placing the lives of their family’s offspring under someone else’s control?”

A smile on her red lips, Roland tapped the map on the table. Her tone shifted as she continued, “The command of the Gambis vanguard is in our hands; combat intelligence, supplies, and divine arts support are all in the hands of the Church. Without a doubt, the commander of the Sasan Empire’s rear, Patriarch Flidis, has us by the nose. Therefore, our vanguard must, for the sake of Gambis’s main reinforcements, break free from Patriarch Flidis’s grip and open up a theater of operations for our own Gambis main relief force.”

“This is the vanguard’s primary mission.”

“The main forces of the Sasan Empire and the Church are trapped by the grand army of the Sidon Centaurs in the three capital cities of the Pioneer Fief defense line.” Roland traced a line on the map with her finger, then moved it backward. “About ninety kilometers west of the Pioneer Fief defense line is the Sasan Empire’s eastern territories defense line. The fortresses, castles, and encampments of the eastern line are all in the hands of Sasan lords. Due to insufficient troops and a severe shortage of military equipment, the garrison forces are unable to stop the Westdon Khanate’s servant army from entering the Sasan Empire’s heartland.”

“According to the Church’s latest report, approximately one million three hundred thousand beastman slaves have entered the territory of the Sasan Empire. They are mainly Goblins, Kobolds, and Gnolls, with a small number of Ogres and Bear-monsters. Currently, these beastman monsters are concentrated in the area between the Pioneer Fief and the eastern territories defense lines, a region of about four hundred fifty thousand square kilometers. They are plundering the food and supplies left in human towns and villages. Some of the more powerful beastmen have also enslaved groups of Goblins and Kobolds and have infiltrated the empire’s heartland west of the eastern defense line. When this monster tide has consumed all the food reserves in this region, they are highly likely to spread into the Sasan Empire’s heartland, causing immense damage to the empire’s food production and leading to catastrophic consequences.”

“Therefore, our main reinforcements and those of the Dodor Kingdom must take control of the Sasan Empire’s eastern defense line before this disaster occurs, blocking the monster tide’s westward path. With over a million beastman servant troops unable to find food and blocked from spreading west, they will end up killing one another for the scarce food supplies, and may even turn on the grand army of the Sidon Centaurs on the Pioneer Fief defense line. That will be the moment for our human allied forces to launch a counter-attack against the Sidon Centaurs.”

Margaret Wellington asked in her cool voice, “The King of Beastmen?”

“It’s only a matter of time before the human allied forces defeat the Sidon Centaurs. The real fear is that the King of Beastmen’s grand army is waiting to the east of the Westdon Khanate… If we and the Sidon Centaurs fight to a mutual ruin, or if we abandon our solid defensive lines to pursue the scattering remnants of the Centaur army eastward, we could very well run straight into a devastating blow from the Beastman King’s main army.” Roland nodded, moving her finger to the Dodor Kingdom’s Giantstone Fortress. “North of Giantstone Fortress is the eastern part of the Sidon Centaur Khanate. If there really is a King of Beastmen, his main army is probably hidden east of the Westdon Khanate.”

“The Templars, the main forces of the Inquisition, and the reinforcements from the Dodor, Sus, and Borea Kingdoms are currently gathering at Giantstone Fortress. That’s about one hundred sixty thousand elite cavalry…”

Roland bared her gleaming little fangs and tilted her head with a sneer. “It makes me especially happy to think that they’re using every ounce of their strength while we’re only sending twenty thousand cavalry.”

The high-ranking female knights exchanged amused smiles, with the exception of Margaret and Victor. Margaret wondered what was so funny, while Victor still felt a little uncomfortable.

“The forces at Giantstone Fortress have already dispatched scouts to search for the King of Beastmen’s army in the eastern parts of the Westdon Khanate. If the Sidon Centaurs retreat, and the main forces of the Sasan Empire and the Temple Army are still intact, they will continue to hold the three new cities of the Pioneer Fief defense line. The western war zone commander, Flidis, will quickly resupply the three new cities, while our reinforcements and those from the Dodor Kingdom, along with the Sasan Empire’s garrison, will station themselves at the Sasan Empire’s eastern defense line. This will create a defense in depth between the two lines. Moreover, this area has already been licked clean by the Sidon Centaurs’ slaves. If the Beastman King’s main army charges in, they’ll find nothing but Goblin droppings, not a single grain of food. At that point, Pope Clement of the eastern war zone will lead his troops out of Giantstone Fortress and sweep through the beastman army’s rear supply lines. He’ll spank their bottoms, spank them until they’re red and swollen, spank them until they howl, and see if they still dare to invade the human kingdoms!”

“A scorched-earth policy and cutting off enemy reinforcements is the most effective tactic against the beastmen.”

Legendary-rank beastmen could awaken terrifying innate abilities, but there was more than one Legendary beastman in the Eastern Wildlands, and not every one of them could become the King of Beastmen.

Individual power, no matter how great, had its natural limits. One could not be in the east and west at the same time, nor could one protect the north while in the south. The difference between the great centaur Orogar and a King of Beastmen was the difference between having a hundred thousand followers and an army of over a million. Stripped of their tribal forces, individual Legendary beastmen could be killed by human powerhouses. The same principle applied to Gold Knights and high-ranking clergy.

Historically, no King of Beastmen who attacked the human kingdoms had ever succeeded. They lost due to supply issues and internal strife. But the armies of a King of Beastmen could often inflict heavy losses on human kingdoms. In reality, whether it was human city-states or empires, they all lost because of the refugee problem. The populace responsible for production and reinforcing the army would flee the towns and villages. Smaller beastmen like Goblins and Kobolds, with their powerful procreation and adaptation abilities, would gradually infiltrate human territory and attract more forceful beastmen to establish tribes of various sizes, thereby cutting off the supply lines to the castles at the front. This was how human kingdoms constantly lost territory.

The vassalage system greatly alleviated this predicament, and the tenant system was intended to solve this problem at its root.

The Ogre King Vol’gan from three thousand years ago was a special case. This rare Legendary Ogre repeatedly breached the castles and fortresses built by humans, plundering the supplies amassed by the human defenders, earning him the title of City-Breaker. It was precisely because he could seize large quantities of materiel and food from the human empire that he enjoyed extremely high prestige among the beastman army. Human armies, on the other hand, suffered from low morale, losing their will to fight and their courage at the mere sight of the Ogre King’s banner. The top powerhouses of the human kingdoms had no choice but to risk a decapitation strike.

This was the second weakness of a beastman army: their extreme reliance on the individual prestige of the King of Beastmen. Once the king was slain, the beastman coalition would immediately scatter like startled birds.

If the hypothetical King of Beastmen couldn’t fill his subordinates’ bellies, he would face a backlash from the beastmen. If he had the ability to breach humanity’s sturdy fortresses, such as the giant white apes enslaved by a Goblin King, then the Great Divination in the Pope’s hands was prepared just for him. Guided by the Great Divination, humanity’s top powerhouses would slay the Goblin King, and the giant white apes would, one hundred percent, rebel.

The question now was, how to preserve one’s own strength as much as possible in the beastman war?

Roland’s pleasant voice reached the ears of every commander. “There will certainly be sacrifices in the beastman war. Who will make them? The Sasan Empire is much larger than us. They can still mobilize hundreds of thousands of militia; they just lack the equipment and the time to organize their army. The main force for resisting the beastman invaders and defending their homeland will definitely be the Sassans, not a guest army like us.”

“Our vanguard’s main tasks are to penetrate deep into the areas where the beastman slaves are active, survey the terrain, reconnoiter the enemy, annihilate entrenched monster tribes, find a suitable fortress cluster for our twenty thousand main reinforcements to defend, and establish our own intelligence, logistics, and command-and-control systems. At the same time, we’ll buy time and space for Patriarch Flidis to arm the Sasan militia and organize his armies.”

“This is the operational objective I have set.” Roland scanned the room and asked loudly, “Does anyone have anything to add?”

Several pairs of beautiful eyes focused in unison on His Highness Randall, seated in the main position.

Victor gave a light cough, stood up, and said in a deep voice, “The Sasan Empire must not lose territory. That is the first premise. Protecting the Sasan Empire’s Pioneer Fief is the second premise. I am not encumbered by the army, so I will be responsible for surveying, scouting, and killing powerful monsters and beastmen. I will maintain contact with you and provide all necessary assistance, but I will not interfere with Her Highness the Princess’s right to command. While I am out roaming, I hope none of you forget those two premises.”

“Wow, I can almost see a trail of monster corpses wherever His Highness Randall passes,” Roland said with a grin, resting her chin on her hand.

Victor reined in the cold glint in the depths of his eyes and smiled gently. “War is a continuation of politics. Even in an irreconcilable war against the beastmen, we can hardly avoid political turbulence. Since we are paying a price and making sacrifices for the integrity of the Sasan Empire, we can’t just walk away with nothing.”

At the mention of benefits, the eyes of the high-ranking female knights sparkled. Gillian spoke up directly, “Right! The Sasan Empire should bear our military funds and supplies, and also provide a reward… ten million Gold Sols! The royal family and the queen’s family can take… take half, and the various families can split the rest.”

Silly girl, you are already mine, yet you’re still thinking of the Chapman family… Victor thought, secretly amused as he watched Gillian’s conflicted expression. She was still feeling upset and heartbroken that the royal family and the queen’s family were taking too large a share.

“How the benefits are distributed will be decided by the Senate.”

Victor’s elegant smile held a hint of cunning and confidence as he nodded. “We can forgo the ten million Gold Sol reward. We want people… the people we need.”

“Food?” Margaret asked, her expression unreadable as she stared into Victor’s eyes.

Victor revealed eight perfectly straight teeth and said, “The food for the refugees will, of course, be the responsibility of the Sasan Empire. And it must be guaranteed for four years. To achieve this, once the vanguard reaches Bronze-Halberd City, don’t rush into battle. Give me twenty days.”

Roland waved a hand and declared magnanimously, “Alright, we’re going to the Sasan Empire to snatch up people and grain…”

“Move out!”

Chapter 609: The Outpost

Harry peered through an observation slit in the arrow tower’s battlements, watching the situation inside the outpost camp.

A horde of monsters was rampaging through the camp. Short, green-skinned Goblins were gleefully hauling out sacks of green wheat from a collapsed storehouse, piling them onto sleds made of bundled branches for the Bear-headed Goblins to drag away. The main culprit behind the demolished storehouse was an Ogre. Even sitting, it looked like a mountain of flesh; when it stood, it was a full 2.7 meters tall. Its body was pure fat, with no discernible muscle definition, yet it exuded a sense of immense power.

It was the first time Harry had ever seen one of the legendary monsters, and he found it simple-minded and obese, slow and clumsy, almost comically cute. But when the Ogre picked up a massive wooden club and smashed the log-built camp storehouse to pieces in two blows, the young guard’s opinion changed.

He began to doubt whether even Sir Philip the Knight could slay such a terrifying creature.

If a monster of this strength were to so much as clip Lord Fahlan with that great club, his esteemed master would probably be sent flying out of sight, wouldn’t he?

Harry shook his head, trying to banish the disrespectful thought from his mind, yet a part of him secretly hoped the colossal brute would eat its fill and leave the outpost camp as soon as possible.

The Ogre’s lunch was an Ox, its head smashed to a pulp. The blood and shredded meat had attracted a swarm of flies. The Ogre drooled ceaselessly at the sight of it but did not pounce and devour it. Instead, it sat on the ground, patiently waiting for the Kobolds to light a campfire. Not far away, a dozen hyena-headed Gnolls prowled around the carcass, but they were intimidated by the Ogre’s club and dared not get too close. The blood and dog fur matted around their muzzles came from the outpost’s bravest warhounds. These dogs, once as fierce as leopards, had killed several Goblins, but now they had been devoured by the Gnolls, not even bones left behind.

Harry’s own spotted dog, which he had raised since he was a child, had also ended up in a Gnoll’s stomach. He gripped his warbow tightly and took aim at the nearest Gnoll. As he quietly drew a bronze arrow from his quiver and started to rise to shoot, a large, strong hand clamped down on his arm.

“An arrow used is an arrow gone. Save them for the monsters that get into the tower.” The gray-bearded Cassan released his grip and patted his grandson’s shoulder, signaling him to be patient.

Harry lowered his bow and glanced into the tower’s interior. Wooden crates were piled in the circular great hall, and in the center lay the corpses of two Gnolls bristling with arrows. The dark red blood had already congealed, and flies buzzed noisily over them. The mixed stench of rot and excrement nearly made Harry gag.

A standard outpost arrow tower was built of sturdy limestone and consisted of two parts: a seven-meter solid base and a ten-meter tower, for a total height of seventeen meters. The tower’s only entrance was at the bottom of the main structure. To enter, guards had to first use a ladder to climb onto the base. The ledge between the base and the tower was extremely narrow, only wide enough for half a foot, forcing one to press tightly against the outer wall to keep balance. The convex, curved wall made it impossible to bend one’s knees to exert force. As long as the heavy, copper-sheathed wooden door was barred from the inside, no amount of force from the outside could break down the hemlock door, which was reinforced and sheathed in copper. Anyone trying would only end up losing their balance and tumbling off the seven-meter-high base.

The two Gnoll corpses inside the tower were the result of a grave mistake.

About fifty days ago, green-skinned Goblins had appeared on the periphery of this outpost, which belonged to the Fahlan family. As the outpost was severely undermanned, Captain Hans had not led a party out to hunt them down, instead just sending out the outpost’s trained warhounds to drive them off. Twenty days later, the Goblins grew bolder, approaching the outpost in groups and even killing two warhounds with sling stones. Captain Hans, realizing the situation was serious, recalled the warhounds from patrol and began moving food, supplies, and ale into the arrow tower. A few days after that, the Gnolls appeared, allied with the Goblins. Captain Hans ordered the twenty-two guards to abandon the camp’s fences and ditches and move into the outpost’s three arrow towers, hoisting the supplies to the top. Shortly thereafter, the Goblins came within bowshot of the towers. After the guards shot down a number of them, they retreated to the perimeter. Following Captain Hans’s prior arrangements, everyone quickly dismantled the spiral staircases inside the arrow towers. Then, the giant monster appeared. Carrying its great wooden club, it smashed through the outpost’s stockade and led the Goblins, Gnolls, and Kobolds charging into the camp. In the confusion, two of Harry’s young companions, having climbed to the top of the tower via a rope ladder, forgot to bar the main door.

The seven-meter-high base was impossible for the short Goblins and Kobolds to climb, but it was no obstacle for the Gnolls, who stood over two meters tall. Four nights ago, several Gnolls had climbed onto their companions’ shoulders, crept up onto the base, and slipped inside the tower, where they began rummaging through crates for cured meat.

Fortunately, the tower’s curved inner walls offered no purchase, leaving the Gnolls powerless against the guards at the top. Cassan led five guards in raining down a volley of arrows from above. Two Gnolls took several arrows but managed to escape through the tower’s narrow entrance. The other two were trapped inside by their own kin and were shot until they looked like porcupines.

Having killed a Gnoll for the first time in their lives, fifteen-year-old Harry and his young companions were particularly excited, eager to shoot more monsters outside the tower, but Harry’s grandfather, Cassan, had stopped them.

Harry’s gaze fell upon the military crossbow in his grandfather’s hands. He licked his lips and asked, “Grandpa, can a military crossbow kill an Ogre?”

As long as this Ogre remained, the other monsters in the camp would not scatter. Even if they managed to kill a few Goblins or Gnolls, new monsters would simply be drawn to the site. Besides, it wasn’t easy to kill a monster with a warbow alone. Even the weakest Goblin, unless struck in a vital spot, could lie on the ground for a day and then get back up, as lively as ever.

The effective way to deal with monsters was for crossbowmen, spearmen, and sword-and-shield soldiers to work together in coordinated battle. Harry had heard this from his elders since he was a child. The tower had a reserve of only two hundred refined iron arrows, eight hundred bronze arrows, and over two thousand obsidian arrows. Cassan told everyone not to waste them, and most of the young guards listened.

“Ogres are stupid, but they’re born knowing how to avoid traps. If they didn’t have that knack, they’d have died out long ago.” Cassan leaned against the battlements, stroking the metal prod of the crossbow. He shook his head and said, “A military crossbow can kill an Ogre, so it wouldn’t have come. The fact that it ran in here means there are no traps that can kill it.”

Harry let out a breath and glanced at the mountain of flesh in the center of the camp. “So there’s nothing we can do about it?” he asked, unwilling to accept it.

The old hunter noticed that the other young guards had gathered around, and he chuckled. “It can’t do anything to us, either. We have ale, dried meat, green wheat, and even raw sugar up here in the tower. If we’re careful, we can last for two months without a problem… Captain Hans already sent a messenger raven. It won’t be long before the Knight and the esteemed Sacred Warrior come to take care of that monster down there.”

The young soldiers visibly relaxed. Harry pressed on, “Grandpa, have you ever seen an Ogre before? Can warriors like us kill it?”

Warriors? You’re a long way from being true warriors… Cassan saw the desire and the fire in the eyes of his grandson and his friends and couldn’t help but think, Though perhaps not that far… all that’s missing is the blood of your comrades.

He suppressed his inner melancholy and laughed heartily. “Of course we can kill it! Back in the day, the three arrow towers in this outpost were equipped with three ballistae. The guards could kill an Ogre with those alone.”

“I’ve seen one!” a skinny young guard spoke up. “When I was little, my Uncle took me up an arrow tower, and I saw the old ballista. Its bolts were forged from refined iron, as thick as a short spear, with a cross-shaped head. Wherever it hit, it left a huge hole. If we had a ballista, we could definitely kill the Ogre… I’m sure of it!”

“You’ve really seen one?” Another, stockier young guard looked skeptical. He stared at the fine fuzz on his companion’s lip and mimicked his father’s tone, scoffing, “You don’t even have hair on your chin yet, and you talk like a squawking drake.”

“I… I’m fifteen years old!” the skinny young guard’s face flushed red. He pounded his thin chest and said loudly, “I’m a warrior now too!”

“Fifteen? Hade, you’re still four months away.”

“Alright, alright.” Harry stepped in to mediate. He himself was still two months shy of fifteen, so he felt a bit insecure when his companions brought up age. He changed the subject, “A ballista is too big and inconvenient to use… It would be great if there was a small one you could carry around to kill Ogres in the wilderness.”

The tall young guard stroked the short beard on his chin and replied with feigned composure, “There is such a thing… My uncle is one of Lord Fahlan’s personal guard crossbowmen. He uses a very powerful crossbow called… called the Dodor Crossbow. It’s made by craftsmen from the Dodor Kingdom using Dragonbone Steel and the sinews of ferocious beasts. An ordinary warrior can’t even draw the string by hand; you need a special winch to cock it. The bolts are as thick as a pigeon’s egg and can shoot over three hundred meters, punching a hole straight through a rock.”

“A bolt as thick as a pigeon’s egg?” Harry made a circle with his fingers and eyed the Ogre’s back. “Can a Dodor Crossbow kill an Ogre?” he asked doubtfully.

The young guard looked at the mountain-like Ogre, his confidence wavering. “It could… It probably could.”

Young men gathered together will always try to jockey for status; boasting and showing off to each other was a common occurrence. Cassan had done the same in his youth, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to feel happy about it.

As the old proverb went: You can’t drive away an ogre that has started a fire to cook.

Ogres were clumsy and couldn’t start fires themselves. If one was cooking, it meant it had claimed this place as its territory. And the main course, of course, was the people in the arrow tower.

The thought sent a shiver down the old hunter’s spine. If the outpost’s three arrow towers still had their ballistae, they could provide cross-fire to cover the entire camp. But the lord had taken the ballistae away. The guards’ warbows couldn’t reach the base of the other towers. Each tower was isolated. And they were all trapped on top.

“Grandpa Cassan, Floro has a fever.”

A frantic voice snapped Cassan out of his thoughts. He crouched and moved along the battlements to the other side of the tower. A young man lay on the limestone slabs, his face swollen, his nose collapsed. His breathing was like the heaving of a furnace bellows. His eyes were swollen to mere slits, his gaze vacant and unfocused.

Cassan’s heart sank. He touched the injured man’s forehead and found it burning hot.

“Uncle Cassan, is Floro going to be alright? He was fine this morning…”

“Grandpa Cassan, is my brother Floro going to die?”

“Grandpa, is there any way to save Floro?”

The young men all scrambled over, gathering around their injured companion. Their fearful, concerned, and hopeful gazes made the old hunter’s heart tighten. He drew his obsidian dagger and made several incisions on Floro’s swollen face. Yellow fluid mixed with thin blood trickled out, and the facial swelling visibly subsided. Seeing this, the young guards breathed a collective sigh of relief, their eyes filled with respect and trust as they looked at Cassan.

“Let him sleep,” the old hunter said nonchalantly.

Floro was the village head’s illegitimate child, as tall and strong as his father. Overconfident in his archery skills, he had ignored Cassan’s warnings and stood on the battlements, shooting at the monsters below. As a result, a stone from a Goblin’s sling had struck him in the face, earning him a good deal of mockery from his companions.

Cassan knew it was bad news the moment he smelled the Goblin’s sling stone. It was a stone bullet soaked in Goblin feces, which would cause any wound it inflicted to fester. An experienced hunter could mix some herbs and apply them to the wound, and it usually wouldn’t be a major problem. But Floro’s nose had been broken, and though Cassan had treated it immediately, he still worried that his lungs had been contaminated.

Now, his worry had become reality.

The leather armor worn by the outpost guards was made from two layers of tanned old oxhide, finely crafted and of high quality, able to withstand the impact of a Goblin’s sling stone. But the leather helmets had no metal faceguards, which was why Floro had been so unlucky. His comrades no longer dared to stick their heads out to shoot, and they now obediently listened to the old man Cassan, who had never even been a vassal soldier.

However, Floro’s current condition required a priest’s healing. He probably wouldn’t last much longer.

Although Cassan was just an old militiaman, he had experienced battle and seen life and death. But Floro’s death would be no small matter for the guards in this tower. The weather was getting hotter, and a dead body would soon rot and stink. It would have to be thrown down quickly. But even if they dropped Floro’s body into the tower below, the Ogre would send Bugbears and Gnolls to snatch it and turn him into a meal, right in front of the guards.

They had food and drink on top of the tower, but how long could the young guards’ willpower hold out? Cassan had no idea. He could only hope that the lord’s wife and Young Master Philip could quickly send troops.

But Lord Fahlan had taken the guard detachment to the Pioneer Fief three years ago. The Church had lit the red beacon fire, and the eldest son had gathered the fief’s remaining guards and able-bodied militia to head for Bronze-Halberd City. Could the lord’s wife and the young master truly send aid to the outpost camp? Cassan was even less certain.

Hopefully, the esteemed priest and the Knight from Bronze-Halberd City could come and kill this stupid Ogre.

The old hunter gazed at the giant monster sitting in the center of the camp, drooling over the ox roasting on the fire, and couldn’t help but wonder:

Is the Ogre really stupid?

“Caw.”

A crow with black feathers and yellow eyes flapped its wings and landed on the tower’s battlements. It cocked its head, looking at the guards and the injured man.

“Get out of here, Harbinger of Death! There’s no one dead here!” Floro’s little brother roared in fury, jumping up to drive it away.

The crow took flight, letting out another ugly, deathly caw.

At some point, a flock of crows had appeared in the sky above the outpost camp. They circled over the center of the camp, seeming to have their eyes on the Ogre’s meal.

“…They don’t look like crows,” Cassan muttered, shielding his forehead with one hand and squinting at the flock. “They look a bit like… forest falcons? Black, and in a flock?”

Just as the old hunter was trying to decide if they were crows or forest falcons, the Ogre waiting for its roast beef suddenly moved.

The giant monster snatched up its great wooden club and charged with its thick legs toward the outpost’s stockade, completely ignoring the scorched beef. Its comical fat transformed into solid, taut muscle, and its grayish-green skin took on a yellowish-brown hue, like rock exposed to the elements. Its steps were of a normal frequency, but its strides were enormous, making it as fast as a galloping horse. Its huge feet crushed several short Kobolds into pulp, and in an instant, it was at the stockade.

With a tremendous “bang,” the sturdy log stockade burst apart, torn open by the Ogre. The camp erupted into chaos as Gnolls, Goblins, and Kobolds scattered in a frenzy.

It… it ran away?

Seeing the Ogre run off, shouldering its absurdly large club without a single glance back, the old hunter and the young lads were equally dumbfounded.

“Ang! Ang! Ang!”

Loud, high-pitched cries echoed from another direction, rising and falling like the thundering of war drums, making one’s blood boil. One after another, giant birds as large as horses charged toward the outpost camp, kicking up a cloud of dust. They were magnificent and extraordinary, with huge, axe-like beaks and talons as sharp as daggers. They carried warriors clad in dark red armor, flanked by black, short-tailed warhounds that moved like arrows loosed from a bow, flanking the outpost camp from both sides.

In the center of the formation was a strange beast with six legs, ridden by a warrior completely encased in armor. He brandished two beheading greatswords that reflected a purple light in the sun. The beast charged straight through the camp’s stockade, chasing after the fleeing Ogre.

“That’s… a War Beast Knight!?” Cassan cried out, his eyes wide with disbelief.

The War Beast Knight’s face was hidden by a visor, his gaze like a steel spike fixed on the Ogre’s back. Just a single glance made the old hunter’s eyes sting.

Just then, a battle horn sounded from the opposite arrow tower. The old hunter stood up, expertly drew his familiar hunting bow, and shot an arrow through a green-skinned Goblin’s neck. He turned back, his hair and beard bristling, and roared majestically at the boys:

“Reinforcements are here! What are you standing around for? Shoot these monsters!”

Arrows rained down from the three outpost towers in an instant.

Chapter 610: At a Standstill

The Ogre activated its racial talent, Brute Hide Art. Its skin, fat, muscles, and sinew hardened into a solid mass, firmly protecting its blood vessels, internal organs, and bones, like a layer of tough, natural armor. Not only did its defense increase dramatically, but even if its body were pierced by a sharp blade, the hardened muscles and fat could clamp down on blood vessels, preventing excessive blood loss and thereby preserving its ample stamina and combat prowess. At the same time, its strength increased by at least twenty percent, while its speed doubled.

The usually sluggish and lazy Ogre was extremely deceptive. If any beast or monster thought it could bully the Ogre for its bloated, slow body, it was guaranteed not to even have a chance for regret. An enraged Ogre could run slightly faster than a wild horse. When they charged, they were an absolute nightmare for most intelligent races, humans included.

At this moment, this Ogre had activated its Brute Hide talent to flee from a human riding a monstrous beast. It ran with all its might, its heavy footsteps making the earth thunder, thud, thud. Nothing could stand in its way; trees snapped, bushes were crushed, and wheat shoots were trampled, leaving only a trail of giant footprints on the ground.

It was as terrified as a rabbit yet as tyrannical as an armored giant rhino, its speed surpassing that of a galloping horse, though only by a sliwne.

Ogres possessed immense strength and astonishing stamina, but being massive monsters weighing over six hundred kilograms, they couldn’t get any faster. Meanwhile, the six-legged Swift Dragon Narsen rode weighed nearly eight hundred kilograms, even heavier than the Ogre, but its body was structured for running. Its six legs gave it more support and surface area for contact with the ground; its sharp claws helped it push off, increasing its charging speed and preventing slippage; and its thick tail acted like a rudder, providing balance and aiding in turns.

Although the Ogre had a head start, after running for six kilometers, the Swift Dragon had nearly caught up. Without looking back, it could sense the killing intent behind it drawing ever closer.

The Swift Dragon snorted hot air, its eyes glinting with a vicious, bloodthirsty light as it stared at the back of the Ogre’s head. The muscles in its hind legs swelled with power, and its huge body leaped into the air. It opened its crocodile-like bloody maw and lunged for the Ogre’s head. The Swift Dragon possessed the strongest bite force among all aberrant war beasts; once it bit down, few creatures could break free.

Failing to quickly escape the Swift Dragon’s bite meant death, because there was still a Knight on its back.

In the nick of time, as if it could see the future, the Ogre abruptly spun around, swinging its thick, gnarled wooden club backward. It was the perfect moment, just as the Swift Dragon was leaping through the air, unable to use the ground to change direction. It was as if the beast had deliberately offered its head to the Ogre’s club.

Ogres were not known for their dexterity, but they were born with keen intuition!

Immense power drove the huge club, creating a suffocating pressure as it displaced the air. With a muffled thud, the Ogre’s great club smashed solidly into the six-legged Swift Dragon’s head. The club shattered on impact, and the seven-hundred-plus-kilogram aberrant war beast didn’t even have time to whimper before it was sent flying more than ten meters, its massive body tumbling several times in the wheat field, crushing a large swathe of green shoots.

At this point, the Ogre should have done as it did with the saber-toothed beast—pounced on the dazed Swift Dragon, torn open its mouth, and twisted its neck. However, it instead clutched its own stomach, foolishly bent over, and looked behind its crotch. A human figure flashed past from behind it. With a swift fall of his sword, a blur of purple light swept across the Ogre’s neck, and the massive head immediately rolled to the ground.

The headless Ogre staggered around, taking more than a dozen steps forward before its colossal body crashed to the earth.

Narsen plunged his humming beheading greatsword deep into the soil. Pushing up his visor, he stood and regulated his breathing for a moment, calming the strain the Vibration Secret Art placed on his body. He saw the Ogre’s head blinking at him, its confused expression seeming to wonder how the little man in iron skin had just slipped through its legs.

Narsen picked up the Ogre’s head and stared it down, eye to eye, until its gaze dimmed and froze. He chuckled. “What a monster… You almost sent me flying.”

More than ten meters away, the Ogre’s hardened corpse rapidly expanded, turning into a pile of blubber. The wound on its abdomen, torn open by the beheading greatsword, burst, spilling its internal organs onto the ground. Blood gushed from its neck, quickly forming a pool.

The Swift Dragon ran over, opened its massive jaws, and began to devour the Ogre’s intestines and organs.

Narsen was very satisfied with his performance. His explosive power was greater than the Ogre’s, but he was completely outmatched in size; a head-on clash would have only sent him flying dozens of meters. But his control over his strength was exquisitely fine, and the coordination of his external force, inner potential, and mind was flawless. The instant the Ogre had counterattacked, he had already anticipated his opponent’s move, adopted a counter-strategy in a flash, and slain the behemoth in one smooth sequence.

The deep integration of the fire of the mind and psychic intuition was the Touch of the Mind. Narsen now had the most direct, personal understanding of it.

By the time he had dragged the Ogre’s remains back to the outpost with a rope, the Swiftbird light cavalry’s battle was nearly over. In truth, it could hardly be called a battle. The demoralized monsters had no capacity to resist the well-equipped, well-trained light cavalry.

Swiftbirds were naturally fierce and as strong as bears, overpowering smaller monsters on their own. The Gnolls, the only ones who could stand against the Swiftbirds, were the first to be targeted by the light cavalry’s ranged attacks. These forty light cavalrymen were all Lithe Ape militiamen from the House of Randell, expert archers who could hit their mark nine times out of ten, even while riding on a Swiftbird at full speed. Their recurve warbows were made with limbs of exceptionally elastic purple sandalwood, their bodies reinforced with tough spider silk, which also served as the bowstring. They had a draw weight of a full 280 pounds and were equipped with three types of arrows for different functions. These included traditional fletched refined iron arrows with an effective range of 230 meters; three-edged refined iron arrows with an effective range of 120 meters, whose long, sharp, tri-bladed heads could inflict lasting bleeding damage when shot into a monster’s body; and blunt-headed armor-piercing heavy arrows with an effective range of 45 meters, their shafts also forged from metal, powerful enough to pierce standard plate armor from the front and leave a four-centimeter-diameter hole in a monster’s body.

Such a wound was nothing to an Ogre, but for a medium-sized monster like a Gnoll, it was quite fatal.

The last Gnoll’s chest exploded in a spray of blood. Just as it hit the ground, two Swiftbirds pounced, pecking it to death on the spot. Kator warhounds were still chasing down the fleeing Goblins and Kobolds, but the battle within the Outpost camp was over.

Brandon, an apprentice knight from Silver Moon Manor, held his purple sandalwood warbow as he leaped off his Swiftbird, which was still ravishing the Gnoll’s corpse. He gave Narsen a Knight’s salute, secretly glancing at the Ogre head in his hand. Composing himself, he slung the bow over his back and said with reverence and admiration, “My lord, the Gnolls have been completely wiped out. We have reclaimed this Outpost camp.”

Narsen jumped down from his Swift Dragon, patted Brandon’s shoulder, and nodded in praise. “That was a good shot just now. Almost as good as Jack the marksman.”

Brandon blushed and said with embarrassment, “I only killed that one. Klaus got one too…” He paused, then complained resentfully, “Those guys from the personal guard are too fast. They didn’t give me a chance at all.”

Narsen laughed heartily and tossed the Ogre’s huge, ugly head to him. “Stick the Ogre’s head on a spear, then recall our warhounds… Right, have the outpost guards all come down?”

Brandon caught the Ogre’s head, stood ramrod straight, and said loudly with delight, “Thank you for this honor, my lord! I’ll see to it at once… Klaus is speaking with the outpost guards now.”

Narsen nodded, his gaze shifting to Klaus and the guards below the arrow tower as he strode over.

“Legion Commander, congratulations on your first honor,” Klaus said, stepping forward to greet him with a very formal military salute.

Despite his youth, Klaus was mature and steady, a man who valued rules, to the point of being somewhat old-fashioned. Narsen preferred to be on friendly terms with his subordinates and didn’t much like putting on a stern face all day. This kid Klaus wasn’t even a member of the mercenary legion, yet Narsen always felt an inexplicable pressure when facing him. Victor had once remarked that Brandon was a noble among Knights, while Klaus was a soldier among Knights.

“Soldier” was a new term Victor had coined. Narsen never quite understood the difference between a warrior and a soldier, but he still returned the military salute with a straight face and asked:

“Klaus, what did you find out? Where are we?”

“Legion Commander, we are currently in the Fahlan lordship, on the southern border of the Sasan Empire. The Fahlan family are peripheral lords of Bronze-Halberd City, holding the title of Viscount in the Sasan Empire.” Klaus stood as straight as a spear, his words clear and concise. “Lord Fahlan’s vassal soldier, Hans, is the commander of this outpost. There were twenty of them in total. They defended against the monster attack for forty-five days without falling. One militiaman is severely wounded, but the rest are unharmed.”

“This is Captain Hans.”

Narsen’s gaze followed Brandon’s finger to a middle-aged man in leather armor. He had a hawkish nose and deep-set eyes, with brown hair, and looked to be about forty. He held a bronze helmet, different from those of the other guards, and one of his shoulders was higher than the other, indicating he had a lame leg—he was a cripple. The other guards were either old or young, lacking the sharp bearing of vassal soldiers; they were clearly just poorly trained militia.

“I am Lord Narsen Randall of the House of Randell in the Gambis Kingdom.” Narsen first stated his identity, then said grimly, “Captain Hans, you held this outpost for forty-five days. Your courage and loyalty are admirable.”

Hans had not expected the War Beast Knight who had so easily slain the Ogre to have such an ordinary face and not be a Knight-Noble, but his extraordinary power was undeniable. Moreover, the warriors around him, riding giant birds, were all exceptionally skilled; each seemed stronger than the young master, Philip. He was no ignorant militiaman and naturally understood that this Lord Narsen Randall before him must be a subordinate of some great noble.

“Honored Lord Randall, we express our gratitude to you.” Hans led the outpost guards in a respectful bow to Narsen and then ventured, “I hope you will permit me to send one of my men back to our lord’s castle to report the situation at the outpost to Lady Fahlan, and to prepare supplies and lodging for you and your men.”

“Of course, that is your right,” Narsen said magnanimously, then instructed Klaus, “Take five Swiftbird light cavalrymen and escort Captain Hans’s man back to the lord’s castle to deliver the message… This area doesn’t seem very safe… And while you’re at it, tell Lady Fahlan not to worry about lodging. We’ll camp here at this outpost… I’m sure her castle can’t accommodate so many of us anyway…”

The young Knight’s Squire immediately complied, taking one of the outpost guards with him.

“…Brandon! Tidy up the battlefield immediately. Move all the monster corpses out. The Master and a Highness will be here soon… Um, Captain Hans, have your buddies lend a hand… The two of us will find a spot to chat.”

Narsen pulled Hans aside to learn about the surrounding area.

Three hours later, Victor and Roland stood by a bonfire in the Outpost camp. Gillian and the high-ranking female knights who had never seen an Ogre before were outside the camp gate, curiously observing the Ogre head impaled on a spear.

“Ogres are a rare sight in Gambis. I once spent several months searching the Minsk mountains just to kill one,” Princess Auguste giggled, her eyebrows dancing. “When I cut off its head, it blinked at me, just like in the legends… Look at this Ogre’s expression, so dumb, it’s hilarious, hehe… Actually, if Ogres didn’t eat people, I’d quite like to raise one for fun… What do you think, Victor?”

Ogres were like that. High-ranked Knights who wanted to kill one could rarely find one, and common people who encountered one rarely survived. Over time, Ogres became rare monsters. For Roland to spend months hunting an Ogre in the mountains, she must have had a lot of free time.

Victor said flatly, “I have Caligula.”

Roland was instantly speechless with frustration.

“This isn’t the northern defense line. It’s the south-central heartland of the Sasan Empire. For an Ogre to be cooking a meal in a lord’s outpost camp… it seems the Sasan Empire’s situation is even worse than we imagined.” Victor rubbed his smooth chin and turned to ask Narsen, “What do you think?”

“Huh?” Narsen scratched his head and said hesitantly, “I think… Ogres don’t have necks, which makes them inconvenient to chop…”

Victor was speechless with frustration.

“…Pfft.” Roland burst out laughing, quite unbecoming of a princess. After a moment, she asked Narsen curiously, “My lord, did you ever encounter an Ogre when you were a mercenary?”

Narsen didn’t understand what was so funny—Ogres clearly didn’t have necks. He thought for a moment and shook his head. “Never. If I ever felt a sense of dread, I would lead my companions and flee in a different direction… I met one in the Randell Fief, but that was an Old Ogre… It wasn’t as strong as this one, but it was much trickier.”

Victor nodded with a smile. “That time, I had to go into the forest to rescue Nicole, and you were quite nervous then. Now you can kill an Ogre with ease. You’re much stronger than Bruce was back then.”

Narsen shook his head dismissively. “Bruce wanted to capture that Old Ogre alive. I just wanted to kill it. The two things aren’t comparable.”

Roland asked with great interest, “Legend says that Old Ogres awaken ancient memories from their bloodline and are very clever and cunning. Is that true?”

Victor nodded seriously and said with a touch of regret, “I only know that the Old Ogre ate a person’s brain and learned human language. Whether it awakened ancient memories, I can’t be sure… Judging from that battle, the Old Ogre had lost its wild intuition and ignited its fire of the mind… Bruce failed to capture it alive. I still feel it’s a pity when I think about it now.”

Roland studied Narsen, then looked at Victor, and said thoughtfully, “Simple-minded, sharp intuition; cunning thoughts, fire of the mind.”

Both Victor and Narsen’s faces darkened. He retorted sarcastically, “Is the Princess saying she has cunning thoughts?”

Roland lifted her sharp, charming chin and said smugly, “I am a Knight. I have achieved a perfect balance to ignite my fire of the mind. It’s different from your fire of the mind.”

Victor nodded. “The fire of the mind does indeed have its differences, but in the end, it’s all the same… I believe that when the mind is as pure as a mirror, able to reflect both the self and the external world, that is the unification of the fire of the mind and wild intuition…”

Narsen asked in pleasant surprise, “My lord, you have an idea for the Forging Method of the Touch of the Mind?”

“…A small one.”

“Hey, hey, you have time to think about Mind Bloodline secret arts right now?” Roland said with dissatisfaction. “We have over one thousand people, more than two hundred war beasts, and over two thousand warhorses. We’ll be out of food in three days… Hurry up and think of something. Otherwise, I can’t let everyone wait here with you for twenty days.”

Victor also felt a headache coming on. He asked, “Can the Fahlan lordship provide us with supplies?”

Narsen said with difficulty, “Klaus took some men to visit the lady of the fief here. He should be back soon. However… according to the captain of the outpost guard, the Fahlan lordship is seventy-four square kilometers, with three farms, one pasture, and one village, home to over four thousand subjects. Five months ago, the Lady ordered the villagers to abandon their village, taking what grain and supplies they could, and seek refuge in the lord’s castle and Bronze-Halberd City. Lord Fahlan’s castle now houses over three hundred people, and their stored grain is enough to feed them for more than half a year. What they can spare for us is likely very limited.”

“Did they take their livestock with them?”

“They abandoned most of it,” Narsen said, shaking his head.

A smile appeared on Victor’s face. “Then there’s no problem. The two thousand-plus warhorses can graze on the wheat shoots in the fields as fodder. As for the meat for the one hundred Swift Dragon war beasts, we can get it from the Ogres… The Ogre Narsen killed had Goblins, Kobolds, and Gnolls as servants. It didn’t look like a wanderer… Narsen also mentioned earlier that the outpost guards saw Bugbears hauling grain away from the camp. This means that Ogre was just a common grunt, and there must be an Ogre tribe behind it. If we wipe them out, we’ll get our supplies. Staying here for twenty days shouldn’t be a problem.”

“This is why I hate six-legged Swift Dragons. They even eat stinking Ogres. It’s so disgusting.” Roland made a gagging expression and dragged her Leonine unicorn, which was vigorously licking a cow bone, towards a temporarily converted wooden cabin. As she walked, she said, “My Golden Fleece is still the best… You’d better not eat any stinky Ogres, or I’ll beat you.”

“…And someone was just saying she wanted to raise an Ogre for fun,” Victor said to Narsen, spreading his hands, his voice just loud enough to be heard.

Roland, her back to Victor, raised a small fist.

Narsen muttered under his breath, “I think the six-legged Swift Dragon is great. It’s not a picky eater, and it’s tough. It took a club from an Ogre and was fine… I wonder what the aberrant war beasts from our Centaur Hills are like?”

Victor just smiled without speaking, but Roland’s voice drifted back, “I’ll give you five Swift Dragons… in exchange for one hundred Swiftbirds. I want the matching light cavalry equipment too.”

The mounted archery of the Swiftbird light cavalry and the heavy assault of the Swift Dragon Knights could effectively complement each other. Roland had inspected the results of the Swiftbird light cavalry’s battle, affirmed their combat effectiveness, and had come to this conclusion. The Swift Dragon war beasts could also help Victor’s personal guards and retainers keep pace with him. However, a combat partner needed to bond with its master from a young age; a temporary swap wouldn’t be very meaningful. Not everyone could handle a powerful Swift Dragon like Narsen could.

Roland’s proposal was really an overture for future trade.

Victor replied, “We can’t make that trade now. Let’s talk about it when we get back to Gambis.”

Roland turned around, a wide smile on her face. “Alright! You, Narsen, and Gillian have been riding your Swift Dragons for over a month now and are familiar with them. I’ll gift them to you.”

“Ah?” Gillian was overjoyed at the news and gave Roland a distant salute. “Thank you for your gift, Your Highness the Princess.” After speaking, she ran off to find her Swift Dragon mount.

Narsen, on the other hand, looked hopefully at his master.

Victor felt that Roland was acting a bit strange, as if something was off. But Narsen’s and Gillian’s mobility were like short legs compared to his own. With Swift Dragon mounts to assist them, leading them to hunt and kill powerful beastmen in the wilderness would provide an extra layer of security. As for Caligula, he ran even faster than a Swift Dragon.

“Thank you for your gift, Your Highness. You are truly a generous princess,” Victor said, no longer dwelling on it. He and Narsen bowed to Roland in thanks.

Narsen rushed off excitedly to see his Swift Dragon. Victor shook his head and gave a quiet order to Aug, the Rose Knight beside him. “As per my agreement with King Dodor, release a messenger raven. Contact Their Highnesses Duenkel and Dietrich, and have them bring the Iron Wall Knights to rendezvous with us.”

The Rose Knight nodded and turned to release the Red-Eyed messenger crow King Dodor had given them.

Victor then sent for Red Wolf, the Ferocious warrior from Quicksilver Manor, and commanded, “Wolf, take a team of elite scouts. Follow the trail left by the Goblins’ grain transport and find the Ogres’ lair.”

“As you wish, my Honored Master.” Red Wolf, the one with the sharpest danger sense, bowed in salute. He glanced furtively at the Fahlan family’s outpost guards and asked in a low voice, “May I take a local guide?”

Victor nodded with a smile and said, “Of course. Clearing out the Ogre invaders is the solemn duty of the local lord and vassals. We are merely reinforcements here to help, and we’re not sitting idle while we’re stopped here.”

Chapter 611: The Forceful Patriarch

The imperial capital of the Sasan Empire, Yamrite City, Central Cathedral.

Siegfried Friedrich, the Crown Prince, walked briskly with four court attendants down the corridor on the fourth floor of the cathedral, heading toward the Archbishop’s office.

When they reached the end of the aisle, two high-ranking Sacred Warriors in matching gold centaur hide armor, nearly identical in face and figure, simultaneously raised their hands to block them.

“Halt, Your Highness Friedrich,” said the high-ranking Sacred Warrior on the left.

Siegfried stopped and gave a slight nod to the twin Sacred Warriors. “Master Norton, Master Noah, good day. I have urgent business to discuss with Lord Flidis.”

The two Adjudicators shook their heads simultaneously, the frequency and angle uncannily identical. The one on the right spoke: “Lord Flidis is praying to our Lord. He has no time to meet with Your Highness right now.”

The Crown Prince paused for a moment, then asked, “When will the Patriarch be able to see me?”

“We are not sure.”

“You must wait.”

A high-ranking priest’s prayer ritual was built on a foundation of unshakeable faith. It began with devout prayer and transitioned into deep meditation to organize mind, body, holy power, and Divine Art Models. The shortest of these rituals lasted only three hours, while the longest could take an entire day and night. The reason Flidis was a Legendary Priest was not his divine art level, but that his conviction was like a diamond. He could enter deep meditation at will, even using it in place of sleep, and the effects of his divine arts far surpassed those of an ordinary sixth-rank priest. The Adjudicators’ claim that Patriarch Flidis was in a prayer ritual was merely a pretext, one that varied depending on the visitor.

Patriarch Flidis was a stern and rigid man who valued the institutions of the Church and the kingdom, emphasizing the extraordinary power and ruling status of high-ranking clergy and High-ranked Knights. Siegfried, as the first in line to the throne of the Sasan Empire, held a revered position. However, he had not yet advanced to the Silver rank, let alone become a Gold Knight. In the eyes of Patriarch Flidis, his status as Crown Prince carried little weight. Had it been a Gold Knight visiting the Patriarch, the outcome would have been different.

This was not the first time Siegfried had been intentionally left waiting by Flidis. For now, all he could do was wait for an hour—that was the measure of the Sasan Empire’s Crown Prince in the Patriarch’s eyes.

An ordinary Silver Knight would have to make an appointment at least three days in advance to see Lord Flidis, and even then, there was no guarantee the Patriarch would grant an audience… Siegfried could only console himself with this thought as he waited patiently by the corridor window.

An hour later, the Crown Prince was granted his audience with Patriarch Flidis.

“Lord Flidis, good day.” Siegfried half-knelt in salute.

“May our Lord bless you, Your Highness Siegfried Friedrich.” Flidis pushed back his chair, strode forward, and amiably helped the Crown Prince rise from his half-kneeling position on the floor.

Siegfried rose smoothly, a puzzled expression on his face. “My lord, are you… preparing to go out?”

Patriarch Flidis was dressed in a well-fitted suit of dark green Dragon-Lizard leather armor, even the exquisitely crafted pauldrons already buckled in place. An Adamantine helmet sat on his desk. His making Siegfried wait an hour outside clearly indicated he had been planning to leave, not that he had just returned.

The Patriarch’s expression turned cold. He returned to his seat behind the desk, leaned back, and asked faintly, “Zieg, what do you need?”

Siegfried’s expression grew anxious, his posture deferential. “My lord, I just received a report from the eastern front line. The two Highnesses of the Dodor Kingdom have suddenly led the Iron Wall Knights away from the war zone, mobilizing south toward an unknown destination. I believe this matter to be of great importance and came specially to report it to you.”

The Crown Prince of the Sasan Empire had rare blue hair, a trait of the Testier family bloodline. Three thousand years ago, Alijie Testier bore the offspring of the Sword Saint Draven, which was when the Paladins of the Testier family became black-haired and blue-eyed. Although the Friedrich line was a secular branch of the Testier family, the Sasan Imperial Family had established a stable legacy over seven hundred years, and their sense of identity with the Paladin families was steadily diminishing. This was especially true for the Crown Prince before him, who was prone to using little tricks to feign intimacy, which always challenged Flidis’s bottom line and earned his displeasure.

The descendants of the six great Paladin families ruled the most fertile eastern territories of the Sasan Empire. Influenced by secularization, they had increasingly lost their sense of the bigger picture. Flidis, who oversaw the Sasan Empire’s church affairs, believed that leniency toward the Sasan lords would not change their selfishness. He had adopted measures to tighten Church aid and investigate tithe payments, cracking down hard on collusion between lower-ranking priests and lords, and pursuing overdue tithes. As a result, the Sasan large diocese had accumulated and now controlled a large cache of scarce resources. Patriarch Flidis had suppressed the secular lords’ influence over the lower-ranking priests and greatly enhanced the authority of the Radiant Knights, but he himself had earned the resentment of the Sasan lords, particularly the secular lords from the Paladin families.

When the Ceydon Centaurs launched their full-scale invasion, Flidis immediately released the military equipment and supplies amassed by the Sasan large diocese, arming thirteen thousand soldiers and effectively containing the Beast Tide on the eastern front line. Flidis’s prestige soared, and he now held control over the military aid organized by the Church for the various kingdoms. Even the Friedrich imperial family had to act according to his pleasure.

“For a matter like this, there was no need for you to come in person. According to protocol, sending a court attendant to inform me would have sufficed,” Flidis said faintly. “As the heir to the Friedrich imperial family, your first duty is to handle your own affairs. The eastern front line failed to hold back the Beast Tide’s assault, and the Sasan lords neglected their duties and lost their lands. As such, the relief forces from the other kingdoms have the right to engage in combat independently. The two Highnesses of the Dodor Kingdom are not yours to command. This is written very clearly in the New Covenant of Light.”

The eastern front line is empty. Don’t you and the Radiant Knights bear any responsibility for that? Siegfried complained internally, but his outward demeanor became even more respectful. He lowered his head and said, “I have always kept Uncle Flidis’s teachings in my heart. I just did not expect that the southward movement of the Iron Wall Knights was something you had arranged…”

The Crown Prince’s words were barbed, but Patriarch Flidis’s expression remained unchanged. He asked slowly, “Who told you that I arranged it? Divine authority belongs to the Church, and secular matters belong to the lords. Since when can the Church command Gold Knights?”

Siegfried looked up, asking in bewildered surprise, “This… Then why did they abandon the war zone? Could it be… they intend to violate the sacred Guardian’s Oath?”

Patriarch Flidis snorted and demanded in a scolding tone, “The Emperor and the Grand Duke are not in the capital. The Crown Prince’s duties include reviewing reports from the lords… Have you read the report sent by the Lady of the Fahlan lordship?”

Siegfried wracked his brain but could not recall who the Lady of the Fahlan lordship was. In truth, lordships in the Sasan Empire were as numerous as ox hairs, and as the revered Crown Prince, he paid no mind to some minor lord. During this period, urgent reports from lords all over had been flooding into Yamrite City like snowflakes. Even if Zieg worked himself to the bone, it would have been impossible to read every single one. Patriarch Flidis’s accusation was clearly out of touch with reality, but for now, all he could do was listen respectfully.

The Crown Prince honestly admitted his mistake, saying with shame, “Uncle Flidis, this was my dereliction of duty.”

Flidis nodded. “Four days ago, His Highness Victor W. Randell and His Highness Roland Auguste led the vanguard relief force from the Gambis Kingdom and arrived at the Fahlan lordship on the southeastern border of the Empire.”

“Princess Roland Auguste has arrived in the Sasan Empire? Why… why didn’t she go to Bronze-Halberd City?” Zieg changed his tone in time to mask his admiration for Roland.

Gold-rank female knights were few and far between. Apart from the two Highnesses from the Paladin families who had yet to bear offspring, Roland Auguste was the only unmarried one among the secular lords. The Sasan Empire had once proposed a marriage alliance between Zieg and Roland Auguste. Although it was just a smokescreen put out by Emperor Friedrich, Siegfried had been thinking about Roland ever since. Rumor had it that the high-ranking knights of the Auguste family were naturally romantic. Roland had rejected His Highness Andre’s courtship because he was not her ideal partner. Roland seemed not to care about a partner’s level of life, which gave Zieg room to fantasize.

The pursuit of a Gold Knight as a partner applied equally to male knights. A Silver Knight who had stepped into the extraordinary realm might be able to control such unrealistic thoughts, but Siegfried was currently a mid-level Bronze Knight. If he could marry Princess Roland Auguste, it would be the pinnacle of his life.

Of course, the spiritual power of a Gold Knight could easily extinguish the amorous thoughts of a lower-level suitor, but Roland Auguste was a special case among Gold-rank female knights, wasn’t she?

Zieg had been secretly paying attention to Roland, trying every means to collect anecdotes and learn her preferences. It was no secret in the noble circles of Yamrite City that the Crown Prince of the Sasan Empire admired Princess Roland Auguste, but the high-ranking knights merely treated it as a joke to pass the time.

Countless young knights fantasized about winning Princess Auguste’s favor, but for Prince Siegfried Friedrich to have such ideas was what made it truly amusing.

Look at all the single, high-ranking female knights in the Sasan Empire. Every one of them wanted His Highness Randell’s love, but who among them dared to reveal their thoughts?

Sylvia was certainly an insurmountable mountain, but first, you had to be a Gold-rank female knight.

Roland had led Gambis’s vanguard relief force from Minsk Fortress. It took them eighteen days to reach Whitewater Fortress, a major northern stronghold of the Dodor Kingdom. They stayed there for one day and, five days later, arrived at Holy Helm City on the Worton Plains. According to the plan, the Gambis vanguard should have entered Bronze-Halberd City four days ago to rest and resupply before proceeding toward the capital of the Sasan Empire.

However, after leaving Holy Helm City, they vanished on the Warton Great Plains.

Though somewhat inappropriate, Zieg had quietly made some meticulous preparations for Princess Auguste’s arrival. None of this escaped Flidis’s notice. When the Gambis vanguard suddenly went missing, Zieg had repeatedly approached him, probing for any information, because there were two priests in the Gambis vanguard.

The Friedrich imperial family could only marry a noblewoman of a Paladin family bloodline to be the Empress of the Empire. Zieg’s behavior only deepened Flidis’s disgust.

However, a faction was a faction, and the system was the system. The fact that Siegfried was Emperor Friedrich’s first heir was unchangeable. Once he advanced to Silver Knight, he would have the ability to correct his mistakes. As for his current thoughts, they were insignificant.

In fact, Flidis thought it would be better if Siegfried were a bit foolish, as long as he was obedient. If he was both foolish and disobedient, that was also fine. But to be neither foolish nor smart, and also stubborn—that was a real headache.

It seemed the Crown Prince was not a fool. Flidis would rather he were a bit smarter and understood what it meant to prioritize the bigger picture.

“It was no accident that His Highness Randell took a roundabout route, entering the Sasan Empire through the uninhabited areas of the Great Plains.” The Patriarch tapped the table, patiently guiding him. “He had a private meeting with the King of Dodor while at Whitewater Fortress. Once he reached the Fahlan lordship, the Iron Wall Knights immediately moved to join him. Tell me, what do you think His Highness Randell and King Friedrich of Dodor are trying to do?”

“…This?”

Zieg frowned in thought, but when he met Patriarch Flidis’s sharp gaze, a chill ran through his heart. He said with humble reverence, “They reached some sort of consensus… As for the specifics, I have no clue. I ask for your guidance, Lord Uncle.”

Flidis nodded with satisfaction. “His Highness Randell is the creator of the tenant system. He cannot allow it to fail, and Gambis certainly cannot allow it to fail. In the current situation, the tenant system has not succeeded in the Sasan Empire’s Pioneer Fiefs. While there were objective factors like the lack of time, the fact that the freemen in the Pioneer Fiefs abandoned their tenant status is irrefutable.”

“The Baselius family in the west has always denied the legitimate status of the Friedrich imperial family. The Baseliuses never address Friedrich as ‘His Majesty.’ This large-scale Centaur invasion of the Pioneer Fiefs has severely damaged the prestige of the Friedrich imperial family and trapped the Emperor and his main legion, while Duke Baselius and his Griffin Knights are not in the Pioneer Fiefs.”

Why wasn’t Utheryn Baselius in the Pioneer Fiefs?

He had been excluded by Flidis and Testier, along with another Gold Knight of the direct Baselius bloodline—Oroxia Baselius. The justification was sound: the powerful Griffin Knights should remain in the Sasan Empire proper to guard against unforeseen events, especially the Grayhollow Satyrs of the Arreat Plateau, who posed a direct threat to the Teutonic Duchy. The Moon Bear family were in-laws whom the Baselius family was trying very hard to win over.

Of the eleven Gold Knights in the Sasan Empire, six recognized the griffin banner of the Baselius family. The Friedrich family’s eastern faction only had three Highnesses, with two remaining neutral. The Sasan Imperial Family’s influence over the central part of the Empire and the Teutonic Duchy was far weaker than that of the Baselius family.

The Gold Bloodline of the Ironmount Royal Family was not just for show.

Flidis, Testier, and Friedrich had originally intended to use the distribution of the Pioneer Fiefs as an opportunity to divide the Baselius family’s bloodline factions, or at least weaken the Ironmount Royal Family’s influence.

Now, the unforeseen had truly happened.

The Highnesses trapped in the Pioneer Fiefs were all counting on Utheryn Baselius and his Griffin Knights to protect their families back home. The Griffin Knights did not disappoint, immediately assembling their family soldiers and marching to the eastern front line, buying the Sasan lords a chance to breathe. Of the more than ten thousand warriors Flidis had armed, over seven thousand were now following Utheryn’s command, led by their family’s high-ranking female knight.

This was no longer a case of shooting oneself in the foot; this was an Adamantine sword falling and cutting one’s foot clean off.

Zieg, holding the title of Crown Prince, could only perform symbolic logistical work. Without this pressure, he would not have been so eagerly awaiting Princess Auguste’s arrival. In fact, he was also heavily reliant on the Dodor Kingdom’s Iron Wall Knights, providing them with the utmost priority in logistical support. Upon hearing that the Iron Wall Knights had suddenly moved south, he was hopping mad and immediately sought out Patriarch Flidis to discuss a counterstrategy.

Flidis paused for a moment before continuing, “Now, the success of the tenant system rests entirely on the south. On the grounds of keeping the roads clear, I petitioned the Curia to prohibit Sasan refugees from migrating south through the holy cities of the plains. His Holiness the Pope supported my proposal, so the Sasan refugees have poured into the territory of the Baselius family. If they want to move south, their only path is through the Dodor Kingdom’s pioneering outpost in the Ghost Forest, then through the Centaur Hills, and into the lands of Lady Sylvia and His Highness Randell.”

The Patriarch glanced at the Crown Prince and said slowly, “The Baselius and Dodor kingdoms have a natural conflict, but it would be very simple for Utheryn to resolve it—he could just promise to abandon the pioneering rights in the Ghost Forest. But with several million more people in the west of the Empire, Utheryn simply cannot bear the burden. He has no choice but to let the refugees move south through the Ghost Forest pioneering outpost. As such, his promise is meaningless. What can he use to gain the support of the Dodor lords?”

“His Highness Randell stationed a three-thousand-strong mercenary legion in Raven Town. After his meeting with the King of Dodor, that mercenary legion immediately moved north, entering the part of the Centaur Hills within the Dodor Kingdom’s borders. All their supplies are being provided by the Dodor lords, and their destination is the Ghost Forest pioneering outpost.”

“The Gambis Kingdom controls the ports for the expansion south of the river. With our Sasan Empire suddenly facing a full-scale beastmen attack, the Dodor Kingdom must not only march north to fight the beastmen invaders, but also prepare an escape route for themselves. They will not refuse His Highness Randell’s request.”

“This time, the Iron Wall Knights are heading to the Fahlan lordship to rendezvous with His Highness Randell. Their purpose is to coerce me into agreeing to open a passage from the Ghost Forest pioneering outpost to the Centaur Hills, allowing the refugees to migrate south.” A wily and calculating smile touched the corners of Flidis’s lips.

Zieg had a “sudden realization” and said with sincere admiration, “Lord Flidis, you are wise and brilliant.”

“Alright, I’m off to see His Highness Randell now.” Flidis waved his hand dismissively at the Crown Prince. “You may leave.”

“Lord Uncle, your status is revered. Why must you personally travel to that remote borderland to see His Highness Randell? I am willing to make the trip and test His Highness Randell’s attitude.” Zieg adopted an extremely humble posture, thrilled at the prospect of participating in this major event.

Flidis stared at Zieg with a profound gaze until the younger man grew uncomfortable, then stated in a matter-of-fact tone, “You are not yet qualified to test His Highness Randell’s attitude. And His Highness Randell has no time to waste on you.”

Zieg circulated his Aura to suppress the hot blood rushing to his head, his entire body freezing like a stone sculpture.

His Highness Randell had resonated with the elemental sea of wind in Blinor City and called out his eldest daughter’s name. Even a Silver-rank Stormwind Paladin of the Testier family had heard the words, “Linobia, a father’s glory, a queen of the hunt,” in the Central Cathedral. On this point alone, His Highness Randell was not far from the level of the Sword Saint Draven. It could be said that if Sylvia did not act, he was the strongest of the secular lords.

The Gambis royal family and the Queen’s family were clearly intent on monopolizing His Highness Randell’s bloodline. Sylvia was indeed the best partner for a Sun Elf, but how long could she accompany His Highness Randell? Victor had known Roland when he was an attendant in Aerie Fortress—all the major powers had investigated this thoroughly. Who would believe that His Highness Randell did not harbor a budding affection for the princess back then? That Zieg still dared to harbor foolish delusions about Princess Auguste meant he could ruin even a good thing!

Flidis had received news that Utheryn was discussing with his cousin Oroxia the possibility of sending her youngest daughter, Glosiane, to be His Highness Randell’s student. Oroxia, however, believed they should send Utheryn’s youngest son, Angus, to be Princess Roland Auguste’s student. Regardless of whether the two Highnesses of the Baselius family could reach a consensus, it was clear they both recognized the necessity of a marriage alliance with Gambis.

The bloodline of the Spirit Knight Verotka had been passed down to the present day in only two lines, one per generation. Both Utheryn and Oroxia had given birth to their youngest son and daughter respectively after ascending to the Gold rank, to serve as the Family Suzerain and Family Guardian.

Therefore, these two children possessed the purest Gold Bloodline. The price Baselius was willing to pay to win over the Gambis Kingdom was enormous.

Any ordinary family would certainly be reluctant, but Utheryn had already married his second son to the purple-eyed Princess Fenna. Flidis believed this new possibility could not be ignored. He was rushing to meet the Gold-Eyed Earl precisely to find a way to intensify the conflict between Gambis and the Baselius family, but there was no need to explain the reasons to Zieg.

“The only thing you should be doing now is prioritizing supplies for the front line and delaying grain shipments to the west of the Empire.”

“You may go.”

Zieg bowed silently and strode out of Flidis’s office. A moment later, his roar echoed from outside the door: “Which bastard was in charge of reviewing the reports from Bronze-Halberd City? Find him and transfer him to the front line!”

Flidis muttered to himself with a disdainful look in his eyes, “A Crown Prince who is a Bronze Knight… Hmph. You’ll only have the right to make a move on the same board as us when you become a Gold Knight.”

Chapter 612: A Meeting and a Consensus

Patriarch Flidis arrived even faster than Victor had anticipated. The Dodor Kingdom’s Iron Wall Knights had just arrived in the afternoon, and by the time the sun set, the Patriarch was riding a Horned Wolf, leading a dozen or so clergy guards to the outskirts of the Fahlan outpost camp. Victor hadn’t even had time to discuss the details of their cooperation with the two Gold Knight Highnesses from Dodor.

If someone holds the power to save your life and the lives of your men, you had best show them respect and try to get close to them. Priests were precisely the kind of people who could save a High-ranked Knight’s life.

The four Highnesses and over a dozen Silver Knights all went to the camp gate to welcome one of the three Patriarchs of the Curia, the Legendary Priest, Lord Flidis.

This was the first time Victor and Flidis had met, but they were both familiar with each other’s circumstances.

He was the eldest of the three Patriarchs, ninety-four years old this year. His father was a Paladin from the Testier family, and his mother was a high-ranked female priest from the Kluvidal family. Like his mother, Flidis had served the Lord of Radiance since childhood, renouncing his Paladin family’s surname to become a devout shepherd. As a senior knight and a Legendary Priest, Flidis could live to be at least one hundred and twenty. He spent most of his time in the large diocese of Sasan and rarely returned to the Holy See’s Curia, even after becoming a Patriarch. He understood the Sasan Empire extremely well, having been in charge of the church affairs in the Sasan large diocese for forty-six years. Known for being just, strict, and impervious to personal appeals, he treated the eastern, central, and western parts of the Sasan Empire with equal impartiality.

For the past few centuries, it had been the norm for the Church’s aid and supplies to lean towards the Sasan Empire, especially towards the eastern imperial political faction. Thanks to the Church’s robust support, the Radiant Knights and the Friedrich imperial family had not only built a complete defensive line in the eastern territories but had also developed an elite cavalry of one hundred thousand. The elite cavalry of the lords in the central and western parts of Sasan combined did not even amount to half their number.

Flidis had changed this situation. During his tenure as Patriarch, the Baselius family in the west of Sasan had successfully expanded their elite cavalry by nine thousand men, fully equipped with Chainmail, leather under-armor, helmets, boots, lances, shields, scimitars, javelins, and crossbows, making them indistinguishable from the Imperial Guard cavalry.

Everyone said that Duke Utheryn Baselius had been born in a good era.

Flidis’s just and stern style had mended the political divisions within the Sasan Empire. The fact that Duke Baselius and Emperor Friedrich could set aside their differences and join forces against the Centaur Great Khan was a monumental achievement, for which Patriarch Flidis deserved the highest credit. His prestige among the lords of the Sasan Empire surpassed that of both Emperor Friedrich and Duke Baselius. A decree issued by the Sasan imperial family was worthless paper in the western part of the Empire, but a letter handwritten by Flidis would always elicit a response from Duke Baselius.

Without a doubt, Patriarch Flidis was the most influential figure with real power in the Sasan Empire.

Victor had gathered intelligence and rumors from various sources, analyzing that Patriarch Flidis was a man of strong principles and a desire for control. He was serious and old-fashioned, decisive and swift in his actions. When his eldest son and daughter died on the battlefield, he had not used his power to seek a chance of survival for them.

To contend with such a character, Victor had made thorough preparations, including how to respond to his reprimands. However, the real Patriarch Flidis completely subverted his impression.

After the exchange of greetings, the tall, silver-haired old Patriarch took the initiative to pat Victor’s pauldron in a sign of warmth, his voice booming with laughter. “His Highness Randall, Her Highness Princess Auguste, you arrived in the Sasan Empire eight days ahead of what I expected. On behalf of the suffering faithful, I express my gratitude to the vanguard relief force of the Gambis Kingdom. May the radiance of our Lord shine upon Your Highnesses forever.”

Something about this feels off… Victor mused inwardly, speaking in unison with Roland and the two Highnesses from Dodor, “Praise be to the supreme Lord of Radiance.”

Roland explained in a clear voice, “We got lost on the Great Plains. Otherwise, we could have been even faster.”

The two Gold Knights of the Ironwall Knights, Dietrich and Duenkel, were suddenly a little embarrassed. Everyone had agreed to present a united front to pressure Flidis, forcing him to open the route for the southward migration of refugees, thereby preserving the tenant system and the Dodor Kingdom’s pioneering outposts in the Ghost Forest. Against a tough negotiator like Flidis, they had to adopt an even tougher negotiation strategy. In short, it meant not explaining the vanguard relief force’s unusual movements. With His Highness Randall leading the charge—and since they weren’t asphysically imposing as a Sun Elf—all they had to do was follow behind and show a resolute attitude.

But Roland’s casual remark of “we got lost” had explained why the Gambis vanguard relief force hadn’t appeared at their designated location, Bronze-Halberd City. Should Dietrich and Duenkel now also explain why the Iron Wall Knights had suddenly moved south to the Fahlan lordship?

How were they supposed to explain that? Did she have to throw them under the bus like that?

Fortunately, Patriarch Flidis didn’t press the issue. He merely nodded, his gaze sweeping over the sides of the camp gate before he frowned and asked, “You found a wandering Ogre tribe nearby?”

Six long spears were erected there, each impaled with an Ogre’s head. The heads were of various sizes but shared the same ugly, brutish features. Some wore foolish grins, others expressions of anger, confusion, or bewilderment. They looked horrifying and grim under the torchlight.

Victor’s expression grew solemn. He nodded and said, “Your Excellency Flidis, please follow me.”

He led the group to an open space behind the camp, an area of freshly turned earth about two hundred square meters in size. It was clearly a mass grave.

No one spoke. The pine torches crackled, casting swaying light and shadows that added to the solemn, heavy atmosphere. Flidis’s expression was grim as he walked a full circle around the edge of the grave. In a low, heavy voice, he asked, “Did both Your Highnesses see it?”

Victor and Roland silently nodded.

Three days ago, the Ferocious warrior Red Wolf had led a team of scouts, tracking the trail left by Goblins transporting grain. They had found the Ogres’ lair in the Fagon Forest, north of the Fahlan lordship. They hadn’t dared to investigate deeply, merely marking out the general area on the periphery.

Ogre sinews possessed incredible resilience and could be used for the bowstrings of military heavy crossbows. In particular, the great tendons from their spines could be used to make bowstrings for large ballistae. No matter how advanced the processing techniques for this kind of biological material were, they still had a limited lifespan. Naturally, the fresher the sinews, the better. Moreover, the Gambis vanguard relief force was in urgent need of the grain supplies the Ogres had collected.

Victor and Roland had eagerly led three Great Knights and two hundred elite soldiers to raid the Ogre lair in Fagon Forest. The Ogre tribe consisted of only two adult male Ogre brutes, two females, and one youngling. Their leader was not a Silver-rank berserk Ogre, and they controlled several dozen Gnolls and hundreds of Goblin and Kobold slaves. With Victor and Roland personally taking action, the battle’s outcome was never in doubt. The Ogres were all slain before they even had a chance to flee.

Two Silver Knights led men to hunt down the fleeing Gnoll bandits, while elite warriors cleaned up the Goblins and Kobolds. The rest took stock of the war trophies: over a hundred tons of green wheat, dozens of tons of cured meat, hundreds of barrels of beans and dried vegetables, and the Ogres’ specially made air-dried meat.

Like Goblins, Ogres had a habit of storing food. They would first eat their prey’s head and entrails, then coat the rest of the body with grass juice and mud, hang it up to air-dry, and save it for times of scarcity. In the Ogre lair in Fagon Forest, the air-dried corpses of cows, sheep, wild boars, and even Bear-monsters, Goblins, and Gnolls hung from the trees—along with human bodies.

The mangled corpses of over a hundred men, women, and children had been turned into air-dried meat by the Ogres and left to swing in the forest. That horrific sight was a massive shock to the soldiers of the Gambis vanguard.

The expression on every person’s face was like stone, their eyes blazing with the fire of anger and hatred. Flidis looked at the battle priest with the army and asked, “How many people died?”

“One hundred and fourteen,” the battle priest, clad in Chainmail with a blood-stained mace at his waist, replied grimly.

“Has a ceremony to pacify their souls been held?”

“Yes, My lord.”

“May their souls find peace in our Lord’s divine kingdom.”

Flidis and his clergy guards made the sign of the holy symbol over their chests and chanted in low voices. He then asked, “Were any warriors lost or injured?”

The battle priest replied, “One was seriously injured, and six suffered minor injuries. There were no fatalities. The wounded warriors all received healing from divine arts. The lightly injured have already recovered, and the seriously injured one will need ten days of rest to recuperate.”

“You’ve done well.” Patriarch Flidis nodded, acknowledging the battle priest’s merit. He turned to Victor and said, “Let’s talk inside.”

“Your Excellency, please.” Victor gestured with his hand, walking shoulder to shoulder with the Patriarch into the outpost camp.

The camp had been newly repaired. The supplies recovered from the Ogres were stacked neatly in the open area, making the already limited space feel crowded and cramped. The thousand-plus warriors of the Gambis vanguard and the two hundred-plus elites of the Ironwall Knights had been forced to set up camp on the periphery.

Patriarch Flidis and the four Highnesses sat around a bonfire in the center of the camp. The High-ranked Knights of the two kingdoms tactfully left the camp, giving them space for their private discussion.

The Legendary Priest stared at the bonfire for several seconds before speaking. “Ogres are omnivorous monsters, and their numbers in the Northern Wildlands are not small. Like other large beastmen, Ogres rarely invade human settlements, but once they do enter human territory, humans become their prey. The same goes for other large, medium, and small beastmen; they all hunt humans.”

Duke Dietrich of the Dodor Kingdom chimed in, “Ogres are rarely seen in the Dodor Kingdom. A few days ago, on the Sasan eastern defensive line, we annihilated a beastman tribe rallied by a berserk Ogre and saw the same thing. About two hundred people had been turned into food by them.”

He rubbed his shining bald head and said with emotion, “Frankly, it was the first time our Iron Wall Knights had ever seen such a scene… We never want something like this to happen in any kingdom.”

Flidis nodded. “The historical documents collected in the Church’s monasteries contain related records, but I myself only recently witnessed with my own eyes a monster turning a human into air-dried meat… So, we cannot accuse ordinary people of being cowardly. We can also understand why, every time a full-scale beastman war breaks out, the lords and the Church’s clergy evacuate the unarmed populace to safer areas… To beastman monsters, ordinary people are like tender meat coated in honey, capable of attracting more monsters to join the war against humanity. In fact, in this beastman war, many beastman tribes who were not Centaur slaves have also infiltrated the eastern defensive line, plundering resources, preying on humans, and gathering vassal slaves.”

“The Fahlan lordship is located on the south-central border of the Sasan Empire, more than two hundred kilometers from the eastern defensive line. In past decades, I have never received an urgent report from the Fahlan lordship about an Ogre invasion. But this time, I can be certain that the Ogres you killed did not come from the eastern defensive line. They must be Ogre wanderers who came down from the Giantstone Mountains.”

“The Fahlan lordship has 4,469 registered subjects. If their army were still in the territory, these Ogres would never have dared to invade.” Flidis picked up a smoldering piece of dry wood and tossed it into the bonfire, continuing, “The Lady of the lordship discovered traces of the Ogre invaders and immediately ordered her subjects to abandon their farms and fortified villages and seek refuge in Bronze-Halberd City and the lord’s castle respectively. Her response was flawless. If the populace had not withdrawn, it would only have attracted more monsters… A scorched-earth policy also includes the common folk.”

Roland, who was sitting on a tree stump hugging her knees, blinked and asked, “So the air-dried meat we found in the Fagon Forest didn’t belong to the people of the Fahlan lordship, but to the tenant refugees fleeing west from the Sasan Pioneer Fiefs?”

Flidis nodded. “Yes. But I will not, now or in the future, tally how many tenants have perished. I will only make one point clear: it was the fleeing refugees who led the Ogres to Fagon Forest, who led them to the Fahlan lordship.”

Victor snapped a piece of wood and tossed it into the fire. He turned his head and asked, “Your Excellency Flidis does not tally the tenant casualties because you still have faith in the tenant system?”

Flidis was silent for a moment, then nodded. “As you Highnesses should be able to see, I am the most active promoter of the tenant system. The lords of Sasan and I were the first to witness its superiority… We implemented the tenant system, migrating hundreds of thousands of refugees to the Pioneer Fiefs. In just three years, we built three new cities, twenty-two castles, forty-eight fortresses, and over a hundred outpost camps, and also developed a large amount of farmland and pastures. By the third year of pioneering, we no longer needed grain from the rear and had achieved self-sufficiency. The enthusiasm and efficiency of the tenants far exceeded that of refugee workers. Without the tenant system, the Pioneer Fiefs would absolutely not have reached their current scale.”

“…It’s just a pity that the full-scale beastman war erupted so suddenly…”

The Patriarch shook his head and sighed, “Give us another two and a half years, and the Pioneer Fiefs’ defensive line would be perfected, without any漏洞. The situation would not have become so dire.”

“I still have faith in the tenant system, but I need time to regroup,” Patriarch Flidis said with a firm nod.

Victor was silent for two seconds, then nodded. “The tide of an era is unstoppable. From the moment New Agro-husbandry was born, the tenant system will never completely die out. I am certain that this war, and even future wars, cannot defeat a new system that conforms to the tide of the times. However, the progress of an era is full of twists and turns, advancing in waves, and can even see phenomena like a carriage moving in reverse. It stems from a regression of thought. Panic, rumors, and a lack of confidence will cause the tenant system to stagnate. By the time it moves forward again, it might be a hundred years from now, or several hundred…”

He looked around, his dark gold, heterochromatic eyes sweeping across each face, capturing each person’s gaze. A meaningful smile touched his lips as he said, “That is a matter for our descendants. What concern is it of ours?”

“If the Highnesses and clergy of today cannot usher in a new era, that’s one thing…” Victor’s tone shifted as he said gravely, “My only fear is that our descendants will have no future!”

“The Forest Centaurs and Mountain Dwarves are migrating west to the Endless Forest; the Ant-men are invading the human kingdoms; the barbarians are descending from the mountains… All these unusual events portend some kind of danger… The main reason we are promoting the tenant system is to strengthen the human kingdoms and expand their defensive depth in the shortest possible time… And this large-scale Centaur invasion has happened to interrupt the strategic deployments of the various kingdoms, severely striking the populace’s confidence in the tenant system.”

“Fine, I’ll treat it as a coincidence!” Victor looked at Flidis and said with a nod of acknowledgment, “Your Excellency, esteemed Patriarch, like you, I do not recognize the deceased in the Pioneer Fiefs as tenants. The true tenants should be their next generation, the young people who receive a basic education in the schools for general education jointly run by the Church and the lords. The first truly defined group of tenants would have appeared in ten years, but this inexplicable coincidence will slow down the emergence of that group.”

Duke Duenkel Friedrich, who had golden hair and amber eyes, stated his position, “I completely agree with His Highness Randall’s view. We are fighting for time for the future of the human kingdoms, and this full-scale Centaur invasion has in fact sabotaged our deployment, filling the future of the human kingdoms with uncertainty.”

Flidis nodded inwardly. A person’s wisdom deepens with age, and their vision broadens as their status rises. Even a pig would get smart after sitting in a lord’s seat for long enough. Flidis had seen plenty of smart lords, but even a smart pig is still a pig. In the face of the system and a harsh reality, they were just as unremarkable. Some people were different; they were born leaders, and Victor was a prime example. He had grown up in adversity, and no matter what setbacks he encountered, he never forgot to seize the initiative. The Purple Cane no one wanted was turned into a precious strategic resource by him; with Swiftbirds, which people regarded as delicacies and pests, he formed a Swiftbird light cavalry that great lords envied; in the destitute Pioneer Fief of Randall, he built water conservancy projects and developed New Agro-husbandry; he mistakenly killed the Great Knight Austin Briart of the Gambis Kingdom and, in a turn of events, transformed Briart’s Wildwillow City into a free trade领; he created the tenant system, cooperated with the Church to open schools for general education, and developed a mercenary legion several thousand strong… Compared to him, those other smart lords were like pigs.

People attributed His Highness Randall’s success to the rare wisdom talent of an extraordinary being, but Flidis believed his political achievements stemmed from his thirst for the initiative. He never yielded to reality or the system; his methods were just so clever that people unconsciously overlooked his aggressive nature.

Flidis was not at all surprised that Victor had united with the Gold Knights of the Dodor Kingdom to pressure him. He would have been more surprised and suspicious if Victor had obediently led his troops to the eastern defensive line.

Flidis did not feel offended. All of this was within his expectations.

A top-tier extraordinary like His Highness Randall should act in this manner.

The old Patriarch waved his hand and spoke bluntly, “Let’s not waste any more time. Your Four Highnesses lured me here. What are your demands?”

Chapter 613: A Grim Situation

Everyone knew that time was of the essence and that unity was paramount at this critical juncture. For the vanguard relief forces of the Gambis and Dodor Kingdoms to be holed up on the south-central border of the Sasan Empire, making no move, was truly a bizarre spectacle in the war against the beastmen.

Victor and the King of Dodor had actually taken a considerable political risk in making this decision. The main reinforcements of the Gambis Kingdom were already on the move, and the Dodor Kingdom’s fifty thousand elite soldiers were gathered at Whitewater Fortress. For every day the army delayed, the Dodor Kingdom’s supply burden increased. And with the vanguard unable to quickly begin its preliminary tasks of scouting the enemy and clearing out entrenched beastmen forces on the Sasan eastern defensive line, the military risk to the main reinforcements also grew larger.

In other words, whether Patriarch Flidis had come to them of his own accord or not, Victor and Roland would have had to lead the vanguard to the Sasan Empire’s eastern defensive line within twenty days.

Victor had faith in Patriarch Flidis’s sense of the bigger picture. He believed that with a style as forceful as his, the Patriarch would not sit idly by and watch the vanguards of two great kingdoms hesitate. He also judged that Flidis would not tolerate the four Highnesses plotting some conspiracy behind the Church’s back.

Patriarch Flidis had indeed come, but his demeanor was not as aggressive as Victor had anticipated. After some exchange, he subtly pointed out the intentions of the two southern kingdoms and reached a basic consensus with the four Highnesses, thereby seizing the initiative in the conversation.

Victor felt they couldn’t let the patriarch lead them by the nose; they had to conduct the dialogue according to their own premeditated rhythm.

“When I was discussing the tenant system with Bishop Pello of the Centaur Hills, he, on behalf of the Church’s Curia, first clarified a principle,” Victor said slowly and deliberately. “Tenant households are not a lord’s subjects. They have the right to freely leave a fief.”

There was nothing wrong with this principle. It was based on the three duties of knightly protection, clerical redemption, and popular devotion. To deny the principle of a tenant’s freedom would be to deny the legitimacy of the knightly-nobles’ right to rule. In practical application, if a lord’s army could not effectively protect the people, they would of course have to evacuate to the safety of the rear. Victor’s tenant system emphasized that the people were a lord’s wealth; only by maintaining a significant population could the war machine continue to function. Therefore, the principle of a tenant’s freedom did not conflict with his vision in any way.

As for whether tenants were willing to hold fast to a war-torn fief or return after the war, that depended on the lord’s personal charisma and level of governance.

The principle of tenant freedom did not apply to mercenary legions. They took the lord’s money, a different form of distributing the fief’s wealth, and were thus bound to fulfill their duty of protection and fight in the lord’s name.

Flidis’s gaze sharpened. He had not expected Victor to discuss the basic principles of the tenant system with him instead of making demands.

“Yes. On this point, the Holy See’s Curia passed it with a unanimous vote. Clement, Tamor, and I all signed our names on the tenant system documents,” the old Patriarch said, nodding without hesitation.

Victor paused for a moment, a look of confusion on his face. “On our way across the Warton Great Plains, the Ash Falcon I’ve tamed discovered several dozen refugees. They lacked supplies and weapons and were being attacked by prairie Gnolls. We killed the band of Gnolls and originally intended to escort the refugees to the nearest prairie holy city, but they refused our kindness, claiming they would be sent back to the Sasan Empire’s territory if they went there… Left with no choice, we took them to a tribe of prairie nomads and settled them there. That’s why we got lost and accidentally wandered into the Fahlan lordship.”

Lost? Accidentally wandered in? Could you please stop mentioning being lost… You got lost, but did we get lost too?

Duke Dietrich cursed inwardly. First Roland gets lost, now Victor accidentally wanders in. One was the youngest Gold-rank female knight, the other an underage Sun Elf. Their ages combined weren’t even as great as his. As a Gold Knight in his seventies, he really shouldn’t have gotten lost, shouldn’t have wandered in by accident.

Flidis nodded and said, “Mm, the priest accompanying the Gambis vanguard relief force has already sent me a report via Red-Eyed messenger crow about Your Highnesses rescuing refugees and getting lost before wandering into the Fahlan lordship.”

Wha-wha-what… those two really did get lost? The bald Gold Knight rubbed the back of his head, which served as a facepalm.

“When our Iron Wall Knights crossed the Great Plains, we also discovered refugees trying to migrate south, but with the military situation being urgent, we didn’t dare to delay,” said Duenkel, Guardian of the Dodor royal family, nodding as well. He glanced at Duke Dietrich and said coolly, “This time, Dietrich and I were leading the Iron Wall Knights on a full patrol to survey the distribution of beastmen slaves along the eastern defensive line and the edge of the Sasan heartland, and we happened to run into the Gambis vanguard, who had wandered into the Fahlan lordship.”

Duke Dietrich nodded with a calm expression, giving Duenkel a thumbs-up in his mind.

As expected of King Friedrich’s uncle, a Grand Duke of the previous generation of the Dodor Kingdom. His skin is thicker than the walls of Whitewater Fortress.

Victor and Roland exchanged a glance, then raised their voices slightly, asking in a questioning tone, “We find it strange, Your Excellency the Patriarch. Why not organize the freemen of Sasan to travel through the trade routes of the prairie holy cities and seek refuge from the war in the southern kingdoms?”

Patriarch Flidis did not respond directly to Victor’s question. He turned and instructed the two twin Adjudicators standing nearby, “Unfurl the war zone map for Their Highnesses to see.”

The Adjudicator on the left unfastened a long wooden tube from his back and removed a four-foot-long scroll of beast hide from within. With a flick of his wrist, the scroll opened straight out, the other end caught perfectly by the Adjudicator on the right. The two brothers worked in such seamless concert they seemed like a single person, their simple action possessing a unique, rhythmic beauty.

However, any two knights could achieve this level of coordination. Yet Roland’s beautiful eyes lit up. She stood and applauded, exclaiming in admiration, “Wow, how wonderful… The masters, Norton and Noah, are truly amazing.”

The brothers, Norton and Noah, were Patriarch Flidis’s personal guards. Their relationship was much like that of Tournans and Pope Clement, or Kantewitt and Patriarch Tamor. These four high-ranking Sacred Warriors were all Ferocious warriors who had ignited the fire of the mind. Among them, Tournans’s achievements were the highest, followed by Kantewitt, who had a preliminary grasp of the Touch of the Mind. The brothers Norton and Noah ranked last, but they were renowned in the small circle of Gold Knights.

It was said that the minds of the twin brothers were connected. No matter how far apart they were, they could sense each other’s location and condition. If they were close, one could read a letter and the other would see it as if with his own eyes. It was utterly miraculous.

Hmm, this is very interesting. Like a magic trick.

Roland had actually been eyeing them for a while. She had been behaving very demurely in front of Patriarch Flidis, even proactively explaining that she had gotten lost. Now she was flattering the Norton brothers, her purpose obviously being to see a performance.

As expected, the princess’s eyes, beautiful as a sapphire lake, sparkled brightly. Clasping her hands together, she asked in a sweet voice, “I heard that the two masters can read a letter with only one of you looking at it. Is it true?”

Roland’s expression was a mixture of innocence, sincerity, cute bashfulness, admiration, curiosity, and longing. It was both beautiful and adorable; even Victor, seeing it, would have found it hard to refuse her request.

But the twin brothers, holding the map, spoke separately:

“We are not magicians.”

“So we do not perform.”

Roland’s delicate little face fell instantly, and Victor also felt a pang of regret.

The keen intuition ability of an Alchemical warrior allowed for combat synergy, which was similar to Norton and Noah’s telepathic link, but not as miraculous. The Soul Fires of Alchemical humans came from the same source, but even the souls of twins could not achieve such a level of proximity. The Norton brothers had clearly practiced some special meditation method for their mental resonance to surpass the keen intuition ability of Alchemical warriors.

If the rumors about the Norton brothers’ telepathic link were true, Victor was even more interested in the Church’s meditation methods.

Although the application of mental resonance was very narrow—after all, twins who underwent the Savage state transformation were exceptionally rare—this type of Mind Bloodline secret art was extremely valuable to Alchemy Tower No. 7. Victor didn’t expect Alchemical militia loaded with a related skill to achieve the miraculous effect of the Norton brothers; he would be quite satisfied if he could just replicate half of the keen intuition ability.

Patriarch Flidis cleared his throat lightly, walked up to the large, unfurled map, and pointed to the location marking the Pioneer Fief defensive line. “When Emperor Friedrich and Grand Commander Testier drew the main legions of the Sasan Empire from the eastern defensive line to form a 230,000-strong allied force with the 70,000-man Temple Army and garrison the Pioneer Fief defensive line, they were mainly considering two factors.”

“First, to deter the six major Centaur tribes, to keep them from coveting human pioneer fiefs, and to force them to exhaust each other on the former territory of the Blackhoof tribe.”

“The initial construction of the Pioneer Fief defensive line was all handled by the human allied forces. As the Empire’s army continued to invest, we successfully intimidated the Centaur bandits and boosted the confidence of the lords and people in pioneering the lands. The Sasan Empire relocated a total of 550,000 freemen to the pioneer fiefs. In three years, nearly 800,000 people completed the construction of three new cities and over twenty castles, and they achieved self-sufficiency in food.”

“Second, the allied forces had originally planned to wait until the Centaur tribes were exhausted before launching an attack from the pioneer fiefs, striking with all their might to severely cripple the Centaur tribes and deny them any chance to reach a balance of power. This way, the beastmen tribes to the east of the Centaurs would grow restless and covetous. The drama of beastmen fighting amongst themselves would be replayed endlessly.”

Flidis fell silent for a moment, then shook his head. “The allied forces never launched a proactive attack. Logically, the Centaur tribes should not have been able to unite. For them to suddenly unite and launch an all-out assault on the pioneer fiefs… besides the factor of the King of Beastmen, we can think of no other possibility.”

“Looking at it now, our initial decision was a mistake,” the old patriarch said frankly.

“…Wait.”

Roland leaned forward, pointed to three marks on the map, and asked, “Are Giantwood City, Bright City, and Crystal City the three new cities? Bright City and Giantwood City are so close to each other, while Crystal City is so far from them, with a large empty area in between. For the entire Pioneer Fief defensive line, this is a huge vulnerability… What were you thinking when you chose the sites for these cities?”

On the map, the Pioneer Fief defensive line, built around the three new cities, ran from north to south. Giantwood City in the north and Bright City in the middle were relatively close, their defensive systems were fairly tight, and they could support each other. But Crystal City, at the southernmost end of the line, right next to the Giantstone Mountains, was essentially an isolated city. Even if Crystal City had been moved a little closer to the center, the gap in the defensive line wouldn’t be this large.

In other words, the Pioneer Fief defensive line should have been fine with three new cities, but now a fourth city had to be built to plug the line’s vulnerability.

Flidis explained, “Giantwood, Bright, and Crystal City are all ruined cities of the Iron Mountain Empire. They were originally located in the deep rear of the Iron Mountain Empire, not as defensive fortresses but as resource towns. Giantwood City is near a virgin forest, there are iron mines around Bright City, and Crystal City is currently the largest White Crystal mining area… When the Iron Mountain Empire collapsed, these three cities became lairs for wild beastmen, and they eventually fell into the hands of the Black-hoof Centaurs. Their walls were damaged by beastmen, but the foundations were still sound, and the church magical formations in the city centers could be repaired. We built Giantwood, Bright, and Crystal City on the ruins of these three abandoned cities. Otherwise, it would have been impossible for us to build three new cities in just three years.”

Roland nodded, then pointed to the empty area between Crystal City and Bright City. “The main army of the Sidon Centaurs is gathering in this location. They can break through into the Sasan Empire’s territory at any time.”

“What?!” Duke Dietrich of the Dodor Kingdom took a step forward and asked in a low, grim voice, “The Centaurs can’t hold on anymore, so why don’t they retreat? Choosing to break into the Sasan Empire… isn’t that just seeking death?”

Roland turned her head, flashing her pearly white canine teeth in a grin. “Bald uncle, if the entire main army of the Sidon Centaurs were to retreat, that would be true self-destruction.”

Victor immediately understood what Roland meant.

The 400,000-strong Centaur army was concentrated on the Pioneer Fief defensive line, locked in a stalemate with the main human allied forces. Their food supplies were bound to run out first, so logically, they should retreat to their tribal lands to forage. However, they had a large number of Goblin slaves in the rear of the human empire. If they just left, many Centaurs would still starve, not to mention the human allied forces would surely pursue them.

A full retreat would mean certain destruction. The Centaurs could only split their forces into two. The main force would retreat to their tribal lands to rest and recuperate, while the other force would break into the rear of the human empire to draw the attention of the main human allied forces, preventing them from pursuing their retreating kinsmen.

This second Centaur force might want to gather their Goblin slaves and then catch up with their retreating brethren, but would the Radiant Knights and the main Sasan forces let them escape back to their nests with slaves in tow?

If they couldn’t escape, in which direction would they flee?

As long as they were within the Sasan Empire, they would be annihilated. But what if they ran into the Warton Great Plains?

They would escape to freedom, grow strong, and from then on, cut off the connection between the southern kingdoms and the Sasan Empire, directly threatening the safety of the Dodor Kingdom.

The Centaurs didn’t know the way to the Warton Great Plains, but they would surely strike toward where the beastmen slaves were most numerous. The Ogre wanderers of the Fahlan lordship had already proven that unarmed humans would attract beastmen to track and hunt them. Assuming Patriarch Flidis had sent refugees south from Bronze-Halberd City, across the Warton Great Plains, to seek refuge in the southern kingdoms, then the more than one million beastmen slaves on the eastern defensive line would gravitate towards the most populous area, Bronze-Halberd City. They would form beastmen tribes of various sizes, indirectly pointing the way for the Centaur raiders to escape.

Roland’s “bald uncle” was no longer concerned with the Ghost Forest pioneering outpost or the tenant system. He rubbed the back of his head vigorously and sighed, “Crystal City… aigh, My Lord Patriarch, do you have a contingency plan?”

A new fortress city, through the construction of castles, camps, and outposts, could mobilize forces to defend a radius of 250 kilometers and effectively monitor enemy movements within 350 kilometers. If two fortresses were 450 kilometers apart, the defensive line would be stable. Crystal City was too far from Bright City, creating a large gap. If the Centaurs broke into Sasan territory at night, not factoring in time to gather slaves, collect supplies, or take detours, their mobility would allow them to break through the poorly defended eastern defensive line in at most 25 days and reach Bronze-Halberd City, then enter the vast, boundless Warton Great Plains.

Once the Centaurs were galloping across the Great Plains, how could they possibly be wiped out?

Even if the eastern defensive line were reinforced, the garrison would still need to track the Centaurs’ movements in real-time to deploy troops in advance and execute the most effective interception. Otherwise, the garrison forces of the line alone would be unable to stop a concentrated force of Centaur raiders.

The Pioneer Fief frontline had a huge vulnerability. The frontline scouts couldn’t maintain real-time surveillance of the Centaur army; it was far more likely the scouts would be promptly killed by the Centaurs. By the time the human allied forces on the front discovered that the Centaurs had broken into the empire’s territory, it might be too late.

If the Radiant Knights had built Crystal City just 200 kilometers further north, the situation would not have become what it was now.

However, building a new fortress city in three years was undoubtedly wishful thinking. If the Radiant Knights had abandoned the ruins of Crystal City and chosen to build a new city in a more reasonable location, half of their main force would have probably been annihilated by the Centaur army by now. From this perspective, the Radiant Knights building Crystal City was truly a blessing from the Lord of Radiance.

The two Highnesses from the Dodor Kingdom could now only hope that Patriarch Flidis and Grand Commander Testier had a solid contingency plan for the current danger.

Flidis nodded at Princess Roland Auguste in appreciation. It had been over fourteen hundred years since humanity had fought an all-out war with the beastmen. The extraordinary leaders, including himself, had always held a prejudiced view of the beastmen as stupid and brainless. It was only when the Centaur war broke out that he and Testier had begun to consider all possibilities. Roland had only glanced at the war zone map and immediately pointed out the worst-case scenario.

Dietrich and Duenkel took more than one glance… but they are Gold Knights, after all, and their reactions weren’t slow either… Flidis thought to himself, then said teasingly, “I am not at all surprised that Your Highnesses led the Iron Wall Knights south.”

Dietrich performed a Knight’s salute and responded without any courtesy, “Your Excellency the Patriarch, for you to say that now, I am very surprised.”

The twin brothers glared at the Dodor Kingdom’s bald Highness, but Flidis just laughed heartily. “Duke Baselius is now the commander of the eastern defensive line. It is not my place to interfere with his operational deployments.”

When the Iron Wall Knights entered the Sasan Empire’s eastern defensive line, they weren’t exactly under Baselius’s command, but they were certainly closer to Baselius, who commanded a large army. After all, the Sasan Imperial Family only had a few thousand garrison troops and no Gold Knights, so they couldn’t provide military support on par with the Dodor Kingdom’s main reinforcements.

Duenkel pulled Dietrich’s arm, shot Victor an apologetic look, and said grimly, “Your Excellency the Patriarch, our 45,000 cavalry at Whitewater Fortress will set out immediately. We will later dispatch another 15,000 infantry to support the eastern defensive line. The southern section of the line will be our responsibility. We only ask that the Sasan Imperial Family provide food supplies.”

Flidis nodded with a smile. “No problem. Even if the entire green wheat production of the Sasan Empire halts and all ten million of our people remain within the Empire, we still have four and a half years of grain reserves.”

Victor could understand why the Dodor contingent was ready to go all out now. He was even less concerned that they were voluntarily giving up the benefits of cooperation. Flidis clearly didn’t want too large an outflow of population, and Gambis couldn’t swallow that many people anyway. With the Dodor Kingdom not participating in the distribution of the population, it would be easier for Flidis to compromise with Gambis.

As for whether the Dodor Kingdom would go back on its word and secretly intercept the population, Victor didn’t consider it.

Not unless they wanted to give up on the Ghost Forest pioneering outpost as well.

Victor’s gaze swept over the princess, who wore a look of boredom, and Sylvia’s assessment of her replayed in his mind:

Roland’s sword arts leave no trace.

With this one strike from her, the Dodor Kingdom was out of the game.

Chapter 614: Gains and Losses for All

Flidis was extremely satisfied with the decision of the Highnesses from Dodor. He said, “This year, in the second month of the Season of Fire, we can harvest the green wheat from the eastern and central Sasan Empire. We will not plant any more green wheat for the second half of the year. We have already begun relocating the Urban Freemen from the eastern and central regions to the grand rear of the empire’s west. Once the first harvest is complete, all the villagers, townspeople, and tenant households in the east will be withdrawn to the central empire to receive military equipment and be reorganized. I estimate we can arm one hundred fifty thousand militia, enough to fill the vacancies in the eastern defensive line.”

“The southern section of the eastern defensive line will have fifty thousand Sasan defenders.” The old Patriarch’s gaze swept over the four Highnesses present, finally landing on the Commander of the Iron Wall Knights. He nodded and said, “The Sasan Empire’s militia will fight in the name of Emperor Friedrich and be commanded by Siegfried Friedrich, the Crown Prince. I will urge the Crown Prince to hand over command of the defenders on the southern section of the eastern defensive line to Your Highnesses of the Iron Wall Knights.”

Gaining command over the Sasan militia on the southern front, the two Highnesses of Dodor were also very pleased. Duenkel said solemnly, “King Friedrich of Dodor, His Majesty, will lead Dodor’s main reinforcements to station themselves on the southern defensive line. We will certainly hold our war zone and not let a single beastman army pass.”

“I have no doubt about that.” Flidis smiled and nodded, his gaze turning to Roland. “Your Highness Auguste, which part of the eastern defensive line are Gambis’s main reinforcements preparing to take over?”

Roland tilted her head, frowning in thought for a moment before saying, “I haven’t decided yet… I need more detailed intelligence.”

Flidis was not surprised by Roland’s answer, nor did he show any displeasure. He nodded and said, “This beastman war can be divided into two major war zones. One is the Pioneer Fief defensive line and the eastern defensive line, collectively known as the Sasan Eastern War Zone. The other is the Giantstone Fortress War Zone, which targets the King of Beastmen’s grand army. The Sasan Empire, the Kingdom of Dodor, the Kingdom of Gambis, the Radiant Knights, and the Temple Army are responsible for the Sasan Eastern War Zone; the Curia’s Templars, the religious inquisition, the Kingdom of Naville, the Kingdom of Sus, and the Kingdom of Borea are responsible for the Giantstone Fortress War Zone.”

“The Giantstone Fortress War Zone has already dispatched its most elite scouts deep into the eastern side of the Sidon Centaurs’ territory to investigate the King of Beastmen’s movements. We don’t have more precise intelligence at this time.”

Flidis paused, then pointed at the map and said, “The Sasan Eastern War Zone is also divided into two major areas. East of the Pioneer Fief defensive line is the territory of the Sidon Centaurs, which we’ll call the Sidon Wilderness for short. The area between the Pioneer Fief defensive line and the eastern defensive line we’ll call the East Pioneer Fief.”

“According to the information we currently have, the four hundred thousand Sidon Centaurs are split into two forces. The northern centaur army numbers about one hundred and eighty thousand, with possibly sixteen Gold-rank centaurs among them. They are stationed in the Sidon Wilderness east of Giantwood City and Bright City, twenty-six kilometers from the Pioneer Fief defensive line, simultaneously tying down the main forces in Giantwood City and Bright City. The southern centaur army numbers about two hundred and twenty thousand, and their camp is set up in the empty region between Bright City and Crystal City, with at least twenty Gold-rank centaurs. The southern centaur army has severed the connection between Crystal City and Bright City, has already breached the Pioneer Fief defensive line, and can advance west at any moment to strike the eastern defensive line, which we are responsible for.”

“Now, let’s talk about the situation with the Sidon Centaurs’ slave servant army.”

Flidis drew a circle on the map. “This is the Sidon Centaurs’ rear lair, the Sidon Wilderness… Intelligence from our frontline scouts indicates that there are at least four hundred thousand Goblin slaves in the Sidon Wilderness transporting grain and supplies for the centaur army. They mainly handle the logistics for the northern centaur army.”

“The Sidon Wilderness is poorly defended, and the Goblin slaves’ supply system is chaotic and inefficient. The Giantstone Fortress War Zone need only dispatch one elite unit to completely destroy the supply line in the Sidon Wilderness.”

Duke Dietrich slowly shook his head and said in a low voice, “We cannot do that. At least, not now!”

The current battlefield situation could be clearly divided into two phases. It was currently in a stalemate, with the Sidon Centaurs holding the initiative. When the centaur army’s supplies tightened and their food ran out, the war would enter the breakout phase. The centaurs would either have to attack or retreat, or perhaps attack and retreat simultaneously. If the eastern defensive line were fully reinforced, and not considering the factor of the King of Beastmen’s army, the initiative would fall into human hands. Conversely, the Sasan Empire would be devastated for thousands of kilometers; although the centaurs would be annihilated, a portion would escape into the Warton Great Plains.

Flidis nodded in agreement, stating gravely, “At a time like this, no decision can afford to be a mistake. Not only can we not destroy the centaurs’ rear supply line now, but we must also find a way to get some grain into the East Pioneer Fief, for the Goblin slaves to transport back to the southern centaur army’s camp… The more we delay the all-out war, the better our preparations will be, the greater our chances of victory, and the smaller our sacrifices.”

He turned and pointed at the map. “The East Pioneer Fief currently has one million four hundred thousand beastmen, the vast majority being Goblins and Kobolds. They have effectively split into two factions. The powerful Ogres, Bear-monsters, and Savage Gnolls have already betrayed the Sidon Centaurs. They have occupied the human fortified villages and farmsteads in the East Pioneer Fief, gathered Goblin and Kobold slaves, and established beastmen tribes of various sizes, becoming entrenched beastmen forces. The remaining beastmen slaves, about six hundred thousand of them, are still controlled by the centaurs. Led by the centaur vanguard, they are gathering supplies and grain for the southern centaur army.”

“Currently, the centaur vanguard is attacking the entrenched beastmen forces. But we believe that, as time goes on, these entrenched forces will gradually grow stronger. We might not even need to intervene before they cut off the supply line to the southern centaur army’s camp.”

“We estimate that in five months at most, the southern centaur army’s supply line will be severed by the entrenched beastmen forces.”

The old priest revealed a smile of profound meaning. “It’s quite comical. During this stalemate phase, we must help the centaurs attack the entrenched beastmen forces to keep the southern centaur army’s supply line open.”

The nature of beastmen wars was completely different from the wars on Earth; anything absurd or ridiculous could happen. The most fundamental reason was the conflict among the beastmen themselves. Beastmen of different species, or even different tribes of the same species, wanted nothing more than to bash each other’s brains out on sight. In the Northern Wildlands, war between beastmen was the norm.

There was once a human army cornered by an allied beastman force. Before the battle even began, the Ogres and centaurs started fighting each other, and the human army retreated to their castle safe and sound. Such incidents were common throughout history.

However, every time a full-scale beastman war broke out in the human kingdoms, territory was always lost. This was because the reproductive and infiltrative abilities of Goblins were incredibly potent, just like the current situation.

Goblins were indispensable craftsmen, slaves, and food for the larger beastmen. The Sidon Centaurs had unleashed Goblin slaves into the East Pioneer Fief, and those powerful beastmen lacking their own production capacity followed the scent of the Goblins. In truth, three factions existed in the Sasan Eastern War Zone: the human armies, the centaur army, and the entrenched beastmen forces. Even if the human armies did nothing, the centaurs and the entrenched beastmen would still fight each other.

The human kingdoms had not experienced a full-scale beastman war for over one thousand four hundred years. The lords and clergy of the various kingdoms all lacked experience in fighting beastmen. By studying historical documents, everyone could be clear on one point: when beastmen armies and beastmen rebels fought, the consequence of humanity standing by and doing nothing was often the loss of territory.

In this centaur invasion, once the entrenched beastmen forces in the East Pioneer Fief took shape, they would not only cut off the supply line of the southern centaur army but also the supply lines of the Radiant Knights and the Sasan main legion. Lacking supplies, the centaur army would fight a few battles with the entrenched beastmen势力, fail to gain any advantage, and naturally choose to withdraw, leaving the mess for the human armies.

Under normal circumstances, a human allied force lacking supplies would be powerless to pursue the retreating centaurs. They would have to turn around and deal with the entrenched beastmen forces. If the fief’s population had retreated and fled, weakening the war potential of the human armies, the frontline commander would have to consider the possibility of both sides suffering heavy losses against the entrenched beastmen, leaving them vulnerable to a full-scale counterattack from the centaur army. The safest course of action would be to abandon the Pioneer Fief, letting the entrenched beastmen forces become a barrier between the humans and the centaur army.

Loss of territory!

Thus, Roland’s judgment that the probability of the centaurs splitting their forces and fleeing to the Warton Great Plains was not high. According to historical experience, the centaur army should have fully retreated. It was actually quite normal for the two Gold Knights of the Dodor Kingdom not to have foreseen the crisis in the Warton Great Plains.

Everyone lacked practical experience in a beastman war.

But who would dare take the risk? Who would dare let the centaurs enter the Warton Great Plains?

There were two key points.

First, the King of Beastmen, who had yet to show himself. The centaur invasion was merely the prelude to the beastman war. When the King of Beastmen’s grand army came bearing down, the idea of the entrenched beastmen forces acting as a barrier would be a joke. The centaurs infiltrating the Warton Great Plains was almost an inevitability.

The human kingdoms had no more room to retreat.

Second, Patriarch Flidis and the four Highnesses had declared their determination to uphold the tenant system from the moment they met. This determination stemmed from a will to fight to the death to annihilate the beastman army, representing the desire of the Church and the Sasan Empire to reclaim the Northern Wildlands. The Radiant Knights, the Sasan lords, and indeed all the human kingdoms had been preparing for this for seven hundred years.

Loss of territory meant the failure of the tenant system, and it meant the hope of reclaiming the Northern Wildlands would be utterly shattered.

Migrating refugees to the west of the empire, having Bronze-Halberd City close the southward route for refugees to avoid attracting entrenched beastmen forces near the Warton Great Plains, organizing forces to strike the entrenched beastmen in the East Pioneer Fief to maintain the southern centaur army’s supply line… All of Patriarch Flidis’s decisions were aimed at achieving this final goal.

The human kingdoms could not retreat; they had to pour all their strength into a frontal confrontation with the King of Beastmen’s army, to defeat them, kill them, not lose an inch of soil, and turn from defense to offense.

The beastmen entrenched in the East Pioneer Fief and the Sidon Centaurs confronting the human allied forces—all of them had to die!

This was the grand tide of affairs, and Duenkel’s decision followed that tide.

Patriarch Flidis gestured to Victor and said, “Your Highness Randall, the Testier family’s Stormwind Paladin is currently searching for the King of Beastmen. His Eminence Clement, His Majesty Neo Wester, Tournans, Grand Commander Testier, and Inquisitor-General Trigovar are all prepared for a decapitation strike. If necessary, I hope Your Highness can lend a hand.”

A smile slowly formed at the corners of Victor’s lips. His deep eyes turned a pure, dark gold, and a tangible yet formless golden mist drifted up from the corners of his eyes, making him appear mysterious and powerful.

“I would be more than happy to kill a few powerful beastmen before beheading the King of Beastmen.”

The two Highnesses of the Iron Wall Knights immediately showed surprise; they could not sense any disturbance in the fire element at all.

Flidis lacked the ability to perceive elements, but the silence of the high-ranking Knights outside the camp was enough to demonstrate the extraordinary nature of Victor’s state. He couldn’t help but connect His Highness Randall with the Sword Saint Draven.

The Testier family had records stating that when golden mist billowed from Sword Saint Draven’s eyes, even the Ogre King Vol’gan couldn’t pinpoint the direction of the danger. He flew around in circles like a headless fly before Draven finally killed him. If he had sensed Draven’s position beforehand, it would have been much more difficult for the human powerhouse to execute the decapitation strike.

The same principle applied to Victor carrying out a decapitation strike on the King of Beastmen.

Although the Stormwind Paladin Testier and the Legendary Knight Neo Wester were powerful, they couldn’t necessarily get a bead on the King of Beastmen. Tournans could fool the wild intuition of a Legendary beastman, but it was dangerous for him to act alone. Now, with Victor to cooperate with him, as long as they locked onto the King of Beastmen’s position, the decapitation strike would be more than halfway to success.

Flidis was both shocked and delighted, but he needed further confirmation. He asked pensively, “Your Highness once killed a Gold-rank Gnoll from a great distance. I’ve heard you can lock onto a target within six kilometers. Can you still conceal your presence from the danger sense of a Savage Beastman?”

I can do it even more perfectly… Victor deactivated Apocalypse, returning to his normal state, and said blandly, “We’ll know once we try it on those powerful beastmen chieftains.”

Flidis nodded. “You’re right. We must carefully consider all factors to avoid making a wrong decision.”

“Your Excellency the Patriarch, I hope that western Sasan can, by relying on the Kingdom of Dodor’s pioneering outpost in the Ghost Forest, open a path for the people of Sasan to take refuge in the Kingdom of Gambis.”

Victor fixed his gaze on Flidis’s sharp eyes and added, “I am not negotiating terms with you.”

“Of course. At a time like this, no one would use the beastman war to negotiate terms.” Flidis nodded in acknowledgment, then thought for a moment and said, “I understand. Millions of freemen are crowded into western Sasan with nowhere to retreat. Over time, it will certainly lead to great chaos. If the pioneering outposts on the outskirts of the Ghost Forest can open a migration route for refugees, it would help stabilize morale.”

“I fully support the Kingdom of Gambis receiving refugees from the Sasan Empire. However…”

Flidis’s tone shifted, revealing a hint of difficulty. He said grimly, “I have no one to spare to organize the southward migration of refugees. All the clergy in the Sasan Empire have answered the call to war. In the western territories where the Baselius family resides, there are only a few low-level priests and some church attendants. Organizing a refugee migration is a tedious and dangerous task. If you let the refugees evacuate on their own, it will only cause a terrible disaster.”

“…We can’t let a good deed turn into a bad one.” Flidis pondered for a few seconds, then said gently, “How about this? I will personally write a Church edict for the lord of the Baselius family and the priests who have remained behind to cooperate with the Kingdom of Gambis’s refugee relocation efforts, including supplying the grain and materials the refugees need. But you must send your own people into the Baselius family’s territory to organize the migration.”

Victor’s pupils contracted slightly, and he said simply but forcefully:

“Good!”

Victor agreed so readily that Flidis didn’t know where his confidence came from. But as long as the people from Gambis entered Baselius’s territory demanding people and grain, the conflict between the two sides was bound to escalate. This was all in line with the plan he had devised. So, the old Patriarch removed a small pouch from his waist and handed it to Victor, saying:

“I will issue the edict tomorrow. This is my personal sigil. Have your people take it with them into western Sasan, and the resident priests of the various families will cooperate with their actions.”

After Victor took the pouch, Flidis looked at the two Gold Knights from Dodor and said, “Your Highnesses, we’ll head to the southern section of the eastern defensive line tonight. If you have anything to say to the two Highnesses from Gambis, I will wait for you outside… I’ll take my leave now.”

With that, the Patriarch nodded to Victor and Roland and strode out of the Outpost camp with the Sacred Warrior brothers.

After a moment, Dietrich smiled at Roland and said, “Princess, Dodor and Gambis have always been allies. We sincerely hope to fight shoulder to shoulder with the Kingdom of Gambis’s reinforcements on the eastern defensive line.”

Roland crossed her arms and pouted. “I was originally thinking of defending the Teutonic Duchy to see their Moon Bears… But since you’ve so graciously invited us, big fella, let’s use the center of the eastern defensive line as our boundary. The northern sector will be handed over to Baselius and Friedrich, while the southern line will be jointly defended by Gambis and Dodor. We will be responsible for one-third of the south-central section, and you will be responsible for two-thirds of the southern section. Let’s be clear, Gambis hasn’t brought any infantry. At most, I can provide an additional twenty thousand iron spears, twenty thousand steel helmets, and two million feathered arrows.”

Wooden-handled spears were basically useless against medium-sized or larger beastmen. Twenty thousand iron spears and twenty thousand steel helmets could arm twenty thousand Sasan militia. Although this military equipment was quite valuable, it was nothing compared to the fifteen thousand infantry the Kingdom of Dodor was committing.

However, between Baselius and Auguste, Dietrich trusted Auguste more. The reason was simple: Gambis, also a southern kingdom, could not tolerate centaurs entering the Warton Great Plains.

“Your Highness Auguste, you are truly a beautiful and wise princess,” Dietrich said, offering a compliment.

Roland wrinkled her little nose and said disdainfully, “Hey, flattering me is useless. I won’t accept the affections of a bald guy and an old man.”

Dietrich froze for a second, then touched his shiny head and laughed heartily. “Is that so? What a pity.”

Duenkel cleared his throat and said to Victor, “Your Highness Randall, we have mobilized forty-five thousand cavalry and fifteen thousand infantry. The Kingdom of Dodor has given its all. As for the population transfer, we have no demands. We’ll have to trouble Your Highness with the matter of the Ghost Forest pioneering outpost.”

Victor nodded. “I will dispatch another fifteen hundred soldiers to reinforce the Ghost Forest pioneering outpost.”

“Good. A promise is a promise. Then we shall take our leave.”

The two sides exchanged salutes and parted ways. Victor and Roland watched as the Iron Wall Knights disappeared into the dim night, with only the distant roars of unicorns echoing back.

“Alright,” Roland said, retracting her gaze. She clapped her hands and smiled. “For such an important meeting, the two Highnesses of the Baselius family didn’t even attend.”

The meeting in the Fahlan lordship was, in truth, a military conference for the Sasan Eastern War Zone. Logically, Flidis shouldn’t have excluded the Baselius family, but in terms of the overall war effort, their presence was inconsequential.

This was a characteristic of feudal warfare: each to their own post, each defending their own land. The entire defensive line was composed of garrison infantry and mobile cavalry. The garrison infantry was basically only responsible for holding their ground—they couldn’t be mobile even if they wanted to. The Gold Knights, on the other hand, commanded the cavalry forces, acting as mobile support. While there was some communication and coordination between the various cavalry units, it primarily relied on the commanders’ own judgment of the situation to seize tactical opportunities.

The battlefield situation was ever-changing. For a central command to accurately deploy every army along a defensive line nearly a thousand kilometers long, they would first need radios. With messenger ravens filling the sky and dispatch riders dying en route, who could command whom? If military intelligence couldn’t be transmitted accurately and in a timely manner, it was better to have no central command at all. Having a unit of elite cavalry in hand was far more reassuring.

Fortunately, it could always be worse. Things weren’t at their worst, just bad.

At least the human allied forces had banners, messenger ravens, a defensive line, and gongs and horns. The beastman armies, on the other hand, just charged blindly with their eyes closed. They didn’t even know the way, fighting wherever they ended up.

This was destined to be a messy war. In any case, both sides had fought such messy wars for hundreds, even thousands of years, and had gained experience from them. The absolute rationality and elemental perception of the Gold Knights, and the wild intuition of the Legendary beastmen, highlighted their respective advantages in war.

Messy wars were often both spectacular and perilous.

Victor smiled. “War and politics are inextricably linked. Flidis wants to keep the scales balanced, but Baselius refuses to be balanced. What can the Patriarch do? I am quite certain that Baselius wants to use this opportunity to reclaim the imperial throne. And now, whether we and the people of Dodor want to help Flidis an a hand or not, we’ve been dragged into it.”

The Kingdom of Dodor wanted to protect its pioneering outposts and also gain population resources. That was too greedy. Duenkel decisively gave up the claim on population resources, prompting Victor and Flidis to reach an agreement, seeking only to hold the eastern defensive line and prevent the centaurs from entering the Warton Great Plains.

Flidis simultaneously drove a wedge between the Kingdom of Dodor, the Kingdom of Gambis, and the Baselius family, achieving his own objective. He also made a compromise with Victor for this, allowing the migration of some of the population. One had to know, Sasan’s grain reserves were enough to feed ten million people for four and a half years, and with supplies coming in from the other kingdoms, he could have held out until the end of the war without relocating anyone.

None of these agreements affected the bigger picture of the war.

Roland said, “It’s actually not a bad thing if Baselius wants to be the Emperor. It seems he’s even related to you. What kind of terms do you think he could offer us for him to become Emperor?”

Victor thought for a moment, then shook his head. “The cards he can play are far too few. Any promise he makes would be difficult to fulfill, and we can’t help him either.”

Roland nodded with a laugh. “That’s right. By going to his territory to snatch people and grain, you’ve pretty much offended your big cousin.”

Gambis couldn’t take in too many refugees at present, seven hundred thousand at most. To the Sasan western lords, who had a population of several million, this was not a huge number. If he could trade seven hundred thousand people for the support of the Kingdom of Gambis, Baselius would be more than willing, but he couldn’t do it.

If Baselius gave an order and the western Sasan lords obediently offered up their population and grain to Victor, that wouldn’t be a vassalage system; it would be a centralized system.

A vassalage system worked like this: Victor’s men would go to western Sasan to requisition people and grain, the local lords would be unhappy and unwilling, conflict would arise, and then they would each run to their respective liege lords to complain.

Most crucially, Baselius had no grain. Victor had no interest in refugees who came empty-handed. Even if Flidis distributed grain for the refugees to the western lords, they wouldn’t give it to Victor.

They would resent whoever demanded people and grain from them.

Flidis was wily and calculating. Compared to his political maneuvering, Victor was still too naive. But Flidis could not know how many cards Victor was holding.

Victor weighed Flidis’s personal sigil in his hand and sneered, “I’m not afraid of offending Baselius, but I won’t let Flidis be happy for too long either… That would leave me with a great deal of discontent.”

Let Baselius’s vassals hate Sophia first. When Sophia finally opens the trade route on the Arreat Plateau connecting the Teutonic Duchy, western Sasan, and the Ghost Forest pioneering outpost to the Centaur Hills, we will see who has the last laugh.

Roland propped her chin in her hand and studied Victor carefully for a moment before saying with sudden realization, “I get it.”

“Get what?” Victor asked with a grin, putting away the Patriarch’s sigil.

Roland said with a profound expression, “The Norton brothers’ reproductive bloodline has been locked, which is why they ignored my charm and refused to perform their telepathic link feat for me.”

“Mmm, that must be it,” she added with a firm nod.

“…Well,” Victor said, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. “They are high-ranking Sacred Warriors. They shouldn’t be affected by the spirit of a Gold Knight.”

“You’re a Legendary, and weren’t you just trying to pique my curiosity?” Roland looked at Victor with triumph in her eyes. She made a face at him, then with a flick of her platinum-blonde hair, left him with a beautiful and proud view of her back.

“Hmph, I won’t fall for your trick.”

Chapter 615: It’s Not Perfect Without a Neck

East Pioneer Fief, Greyhound Village.

It was one of the first fortified villages built by the pioneers. Its location was exceptional, surrounded by a prairie of fertile red earth. To the south lay a densely forested mountain range that could provide the villagers with stone, timber, and fuel. Most importantly, a shallow river pooled into a beautiful lake in a low-lying area just east of the village.

With such a stable water source, Greyhound Village had the potential to be expanded into a town.

Now, it was an Ogre’s nest.

The sturdy walls that had once encircled the village, built of double-layered logs and mortar, had collapsed by nearly half. The buildings within were all damaged to varying degrees; the villagers’ wooden houses, in particular, had been completely razed. In their place, crude thatched lean-tos had been erected with logs. They stood over four meters tall, arranged in a large, continuous circle. They had no walls, and their rain-proof thatched roofs were covered with all sorts of strange beast hides. Hanging inside the lean-tos was the Ogres’ delicacy—air-dried meat from victims of different species: elk, wild bears, rats, Gnolls, Goblins, Centaurs, and Bear-monsters. The only thing missing was humans. They had already been eaten.

Several bonfires blazed in the center of the ring of lean-tos, with large pots set over them. A dozen Ogres sat around the fires, waiting for their Kobold slaves to cook their food. The fresh remains of their latest hunt—two male Centaurs, judging by their features—lay scattered on the ground, crudely butchered.

A few of Greyhound Village’s storehouses were still relatively intact, though a three-meter-high hole had been smashed where the door used to be, convenient for the Ogres to enter and exit. Inside were the grain and supplies the villagers had stockpiled. Ogres were a sentient race; they knew to store food where it was sheltered from the rain and water.

At a breach in the stockade wall, a wooden pole had been driven into the ground. Impaled on it was a massive,狰狞, bear-like head. It was not a wild beast, but the head of a Bear-monster. Every Ogre and beastman slave who entered or left the village could see this war trophy, a testament to the might of the tribe’s chieftain.

Once a human settlement, Greyhound Village now reeked of a primitive and savage air.

Five kilometers to the south, in the mountain forest, a tall, slender figure stood atop a large tree, gazing toward Greyhound Village. In her hands, she held a beautifully crafted Mithril warbow. Her well-fitted gold centaur hide armor outlined her graceful curves, her slender waist and long legs exuding a sense of astonishingly lithe power. With raven-black hair, deep blue eyes, and delicate, flawless features, she was like a beautiful elf of legend. Her long, slender eyebrows were as straight as swords, adding a sharp edge to her气质 that set her apart from the more glamorous and gentle high-ranking female knights.

Andria Wimbledon, a Countess, was one of the few wind-element Great Knights in the human kingdoms. From five kilometers away, where an ordinary Knight would need a crystal spyglass to observe the enemy, she could see the situation in the village with perfect clarity using only her naked eyes.

Crystal spyglasses, though precious, were not something the Sasan Empire couldn’t produce. As the noble Countess Wimbledon, Andria normally wouldn’t need to personally monitor the Ogres’ movements. She was doing so because the mission to scout Greyhound Village was extremely dangerous. Two initial-rank Knights had already died, and even a high-ranking female knight had nearly fallen.

The entrenched beastmen forces in Greyhound Village included over one thousand eight hundred Goblins, more than four hundred Kobolds, over one hundred Gnolls, and forty-nine Ogres. Among them were three Hobgoblins, over eighty Bugbears, a dozen Dragon-blooded Kobolds, eight Savage Gnolls, twenty-nine adult Ogre Brutes, and two berserk Ogres.

Their leader was a Gold-rank Ogre Warlord.

This was a formidable force of entrenched beastmen, and their strength was growing day by day.

The more than eighty thousand mu of nearly ripe green wheat surrounding Greyhound Village provided an abundant food source for the Goblins and Kobolds. The Hobgoblins possessed a talent for animal taming, organizing the Goblins under their command to raise cattle, sheep, and other livestock, as well as the young of wild animals caught by the Gnoll hunters. Kobolds were natural miners and smiths, especially the Dragon-blooded Kobolds. Legend had it that they carried the bloodline of ancient Dragons, allowing them to find glittering gems and various minerals by intuition alone. They could also breathe fire—though not very powerful, it was more than enough to light a fire.

Behind Greyhound Village, the Goblins and Kobolds had built over a dozen hearths from mud and stone. There were no major ore veins nearby, so they melted down scavenged metal farm tools and forged them into crude, simple weapons for the Ogre Brutes to use.

It was with a metal spiked club that the Ogre Warlord had easily defeated a nearby Bear-monster chieftain, seizing a large number of beastman slaves and expanding its sphere of influence to four hundred square kilometers.

This expansion was halted after Andria killed several Ogres who had come to the forest for timber. The Ogre Warlord no longer left its lair to attack other entrenched beastmen, and the beastmen of Greyhound Village no longer set foot in the southern forest.

Andria alone held an entire force of powerful beastman brigands in check.

At the same time, she was also pinned down by the Ogre Warlord. If she dared to leave the cover of the forest, the Ogre Warlord would hunt her to the death.

No matter how strong one person was, she still had only one head and two hands. While the Ogre Warlord and Andria were locked in a stalemate, the other beastmen, led by the berserk Ogres, continued to expand their territory. They had even attacked a Centaur vanguard, capturing a large amount of food, supplies, and Goblin slaves. The number of beastmen in Greyhound Village continued to grow.

Wind-element Great Knights were renowned for their powerful attacks, and Andria was eager for a chance to kill the Ogre Warlord with an arrow, but it gave her no such opportunity.

Andria’s maximum range for manifesting void wind element was eight hundred meters. The Ogre Warlord stayed hidden within the village’s cluster of buildings, preventing Andria from locking onto it, yet it could sense the direction and source of any danger. The outskirts of Greyhound Village, up to a kilometer out, were inhabited by a large number of Goblins, and many Gnoll hunters patrolled the wheat fields even farther out. The entrenched beastmen’s patrol perimeter was a full three kilometers. The moment Andria left the forest, she would be spotted by innumerable pairs of eyes.

In truth, it was impossible for her to ambush an Ogre Warlord.

Beastmen weren’t intelligent, but they possessed their own survival skills and combat experience.

Andria’s mission was to keep an eye on the Ogre Warlord and wait for Duke Baselius to assemble an army to wipe out the beastmen force entrenched in Greyhound Village.

Greyhound Village was too close to Fort Brown on the eastern defensive line. A normal person could walk from Greyhound Village to Fort Brown’s outer barracks in just twelve days. The barracks was a crucial node in the fortress’s defense system. Its fortifications included a thirteen-meter-high, two-meter-wide log palisade, fifteen sturdy limestone arrow towers, and an outer ring of trenches, traps, Cheval de frise, and low walls. It was the equivalent of five reinforced Outpost camps. It stored a large quantity of supplies and was normally garrisoned by two hundred infantrymen equipped with fifteen heavy Ballistas. In times of war, it could accommodate one thousand cavalry.

Greyhound Village was one of the first Pioneer Fief villages, and its lord had planned to expand it into a town. Its fortifications were comparable to a standard barracks, yet the Ogre Warlord had managed to breach it.

A few heavy Ballistas could kill a Silver-rank berserk Ogre, but the Ogre Warlord, in a Deeply Savaged State, was always able to anticipate and evade the deadly bolts in the interval between the gunners’ shots, then pick off the high arrow towers one by one with massive rocks. Once all of Greyhound Village’s Ballistas were destroyed, the sturdy double-layered log walls seemed exceptionally flimsy before the Ogres.

If the Ogres could breach Greyhound Village, they could breach Fort Brown’s outer barracks. They posed the most direct threat to Fort Brown’s defense system.

For a Gold Knight, an Ogre Warlord was an extremely dangerous opponent. The two rarely met, as the Ogre Warlord could always sense a Gold Knight in advance and avoid them. In a true one-on-one fight, the Ogre Warlord had a higher chance of winning; they possessed, at the very least, the ability to take a Gold Knight down with them.

The most reliable method to deal with an Ogre Warlord was to gather two or three Gold Knights, supported by high-ranking clergy, and employ a pincer-attack tactic, cornering it so it couldn’t escape. If an Ogre Warlord managed to escape an encirclement using its wild intuition, it could quickly assemble another band of beastman slaves and form a new force. Under the pressure of Gold Knights, it might even merge with other powerful entrenched beastmen forces.

If that happened, the situation on the eastern defensive line would only worsen.

Duke Baselius was hailed as the Gold Knight closest to Legendary, but even he had to strive for a flawless plan when facing an Ogre Warlord. The forces on the eastern defensive line were stretched thin, and the Griffin Knights could not afford to be tied down by the Ogre Warlord of Greyhound Village. Duke Baselius had originally planned to invite Your Highnesses from the Dodor Kingdom to jointly encircle and destroy the Ogre tribe of Greyhound Village and settle the matter once and for all. Who would have known that the Iron Wall Knights would suddenly leave their station and rush off to clear out entrenched beastmen forces in the southern section of the eastern defensive line. The Duke of the Griffin Knights had no choice but to request aid from his cousin, Duchess Aurorsia Baselius.

Her Highness Aurorsia independently guarded the northern section of the eastern defensive line. It would take some time for her to travel from her defensive zone to Fort Brown in the central section.

Duke Baselius could only dispatch his most powerful Stormwind female knight to temporarily hold back the Ogre Warlord and prevent it from attacking Fort Brown’s forward barracks.

As the heir to the Iron Mountain Prince and Sword Saint, Draven Wimbledon, Andria was usually haughty. Having been stuck in this forest for over ten days, she was starting to grow impatient. She slung her Mithril warbow over her back, intending to have her knight squad continue monitoring Greyhound Village while she returned to the temporary camp to rest.

Just then, several waves of an element she was most familiar with suddenly erupted from the direction of Greyhound Village.

Sharp, swift, and ferocious—it was the void wind element!

It was even sharper, more condensed, and more powerful than the void wind element she could manifest!

“ROAR!”

Amidst an earth-shaking roar, a large warehouse in Greyhound Village suddenly exploded. The resulting blast of shattered stone and splintered wood knocked down a swath of Goblins and Kobolds. A massive figure shot out of the warehouse a step faster than the flying debris, crashed through an intact section of the double-layered log palisade with the speed of a thunderclap, and bolted north, away from the forest.

It stood a full three meters tall. Its body, as broad and thick as a city wall, was clad in heavy metal plate armor. In its hand, an iron-cast spiked club weighing over two hundred pounds seemed as light as a piece of firewood. It clutched its own face with one hand while waving the spiked club with the other, desperately sprinting forward. Its terrified, fleeing appearance was like that of a farmer being chased by a swarm of wild bees.

Five streams of indigo light spun freely around its body. No matter how it swiped with its spiked club, it was to no avail. The farther the Ogre Warlord ran, the larger the streams of blue light became. In the blink of an eye, it had run over eight hundred meters, and the five indigo streams had condensed to their limit. Andria sensed a terror from the void wind element that she had never felt before.

The Ogre Warlord was fleeing at nearly eighty kilometers per hour, but no matter how fast it ran, it could not be faster than the void wind element. The first indigo stream struck its back, the sharp void wind element slicing through the plate armor and severing the articulated joints. The heavy plate armor forged by the Kobolds fell away in the turbulent airflow, revealing the Ogre Warlord’s taut, brown skin. The second indigo stream hit the spot over its heart, and the Ogre Warlord let out a pained howl, its speed abruptly increasing by ten percent. Then came the third indigo stream…

The fourth…

And the fifth…

All four streams of void wind element struck the same spot. The Ogre Warlord’s back was covered in cracks. The Brute Hide Art barely held the wound together, making it look like a broken, stitched-up doll.

A Wizard?

Andria knew the void wind element had already penetrated the Ogre Warlord’s body and destroyed its internal organs. The only reason it could still run even faster was due to the effects of the Brute Hide Art and its berserk talent.

The more pain it felt, the stronger it became.

After being hit by a void wind element attack of this magnitude, the Ogre Warlord would be severely injured, if not dead.

Neither Knights nor clergy possessed the ability to control the void wind element and strike an Ogre from such a distance. Besides a mysterious and powerful Wizard, Andria could think of no other possibility.

However, the berserk Ogre Warlord changed direction, charging straight for Andria’s position. Its eyes were vacant, completely unfocused.

“Huh? Heavily injured, berserk, and it’s lost its mind…” Andria’s pupils constricted slightly. She quickly gave an order to her retainers below. “Return to the temporary camp immediately. Lead the team and withdraw. I’ll kill it and return to Fort Brown on my own.”

The retainer knight immediately led his men deeper into the woods. They were completely out of their depth in a battle of this level.

Andria circulated her Aura, suppressing her excitement. She drew her exquisitely crafted warbow, and a Mithril arrow wreathed in void wind element locked onto the Ogre Warlord’s head.

That Wizard is unimaginably powerful, but he—or she—is inexperienced. If they had manifested the void wind element and continuously struck the Ogre’s head, it would already be a corpse… But now, the glory of slaying the Ogre Warlord belongs to me, Andria Wimbledon!

The berserk Ogre Warlord’s charge was half again as fast. The six-kilometer distance was covered in an instant.

The air around Andria suddenly surged, and an unfamiliar voice immediately sounded by her ear. It was devoid of emotion, generated entirely by the friction and vibration of the air, a sharp, hissing sound, like that of a non-human, divine being.

“Flee for your life. Run into the forest. You are no match for it.”

Andria remained unmoved. The corners of her lips curled up into a cold, stunning smile. “Wizard, next time, remember to aim for the Ogre Warlord’s head.”

Her fingers loosened, and an indigo stream of light shot toward the Ogre Warlord, which had already closed to within a thousand meters.

But just as Andria released the Mithril bowstring, the Ogre Warlord, its eyes vacant, suddenly made a motion as if to throw its spiked club, ducking its head just in time to avoid the indigo light aimed at its head.

The two-hundred-pound spiked club flew like a meteor and smashed into the spot where the Stormwind female knight stood. With a loud crack, wood splintered in all directions. The towering tree, so thick it would take two people to encircle it, snapped from the top. Its massive canopy came crashing down, stirring up a cloud of dust.

Now empty-handed, the Ogre Warlord’s charge was noticeably faster. Like an enraged behemoth, it plunged into the forest, relentlessly pursuing a rapidly moving, slender figure.

In her Semi-elementalization state, a Gale Knight’s body was suffused with void wind element. She could run as fast as lightning and change direction in mid-air. The trees in the forest were not dense, but each one was thick and sturdy, which became an obstacle for Andria as she tried to shake the Ogre Warlord.

No matter how she changed direction, the Ogre Warlord remained fixated on her, chasing her in a straight line, crushing everything in its path. No obstacle could withstand its savage charge.

Andria’s melee combat skills were equally sharp, but she would never entertain the thought of engaging a berserk Ogre Warlord in close combat. For now, she tried to run in a straight line. As soon as she got out of this forest and onto the rocky slopes beyond, she could leap onto the cliffs and kill the pursuing Ogre Warlord from a safe distance.

It’s heavily injured, and the berserk state has to end eventually. My Aura can hold out… Andria circulated her Aura, her mind free of chaotic, negative emotions. She calmly analyzed her advantages and the counter-attack strategy she would employ, but she also knew that she didn’t understand the monster’s condition or its abilities.

Knowledge from monsterology can never be the standard for judging different individuals.

At the same time, within the forest, a figure was silently and rapidly closing in on the berserk Ogre Warlord.

Wind Walk, Body of Gossamer, Surge, and Overlimit granted Victor a level of mobility others couldn’t imagine. His strength and stamina surpassed a Gold-rank Gale Knight, his speed, agility, and Perception surpassed a Gold-rank Earth Knight. Overlimit combined all his talents into the optimal mode of operation, precisely calculating his path forward, turning every obstacle into an aid for his pursuit. Apart from Sylvia, who possessed the powers of Earth, Wind, and Tide simultaneously, Victor was confident that no one could keep pace with him.

Two days ago, an alchemical crow had discovered this band of Ogre brigands. That night, Victor had personally scouted the entrenched beastmen forces in Greyhound Village, identified the Ogre Warlord’s characteristics, and after discussing it with Roland, decided to act today to eliminate this threat to the eastern defensive line.

The Nemesis combat technique could lock onto and strike a target within a ten-kilometer radius, making it child’s play to kill a medium-sized monster lacking wind element resistance. However, pure elemental damage was less effective against an Ogre Warlord with high resistance and Vital Tenacity.

Victor didn’t want to reveal his Tracking Magic Arrows forged from Saron Demon Iron in front of others, and he was worried that a berserk Ogre Warlord would inflict heavy casualties on his vanguard warriors. So, he had snuck deep into the forest to first heavily wound the Ogre Warlord with Nemesis.

The void wind element had seeped into the Ogre Warlord’s body and cut at its organs, but its Elemental Resistance had weakened Nemesis’s killing power. The connective tissue in its body, under the effect of Brute Hide Art, ensured its organs continued to function and prevented major hemorrhaging. The Ogre Warlord was severely injured, but its ability to move was unaffected.

This didn’t matter. The Ogre Warlord’s berserk state was a passive talent. It mobilized its life potential to eliminate threats to its life, repairing damage internally while destroying enemies externally. The Ogre Warlord’s wild intuition could sense danger, but it couldn’t lock onto Victor in his gold eyes state. Without an enemy’s location, it could only choose to flee. Its immense Life’s Inner Potential would repair its injuries, turning a fatal wound into a moderate one. As the mortal danger was lifted, the berserk state would also end, and it would fall into a weakened period. After the vanguard flattened the beastmen in Greyhound Village, it wouldn’t be too late for Victor to finish it off.

With footprints as deep as the Ogre Warlord’s, Victor would have no trouble finding it even without Nemesis’s Tracking Intuition.

Victor hadn’t expected the mindless, berserk Ogre Warlord to turn and charge into the forest. Surprised, he leaped to the top of a tree and spotted the Stormwind female knight.

Evidently, her killing intent had triggered the Ogre Warlord’s wild intuition, marking her as the life-threatening enemy that needed to be eliminated.

The Stormwind female knight had the ability to kill the Ogre Warlord, but her chances of success were slim.

In its berserk state, the Ogre Warlord did not listen, smell, see, or think. The pure power of the mind combined with its massive Life’s Inner Potential, the deep fire of the mind combined with its deep wild intuition, had achieved a state of Touch of the Mind. It fought purely on instinct, a near-perfect fighting machine, a magnified version of Tournans, so to speak.

Of course, its Touch of the Mind was much weaker than Tournans’s. But Tournans would kill an Ogre Warlord with a single, fatal strike, not giving it a chance to go berserk.

A near-death, berserk Ogre was at its most powerful. For a Gale Knight to think she could take it down alone was, to put it mildly, overconfident.

The chase between the Ogre Warlord and the Gale Knight was a contest of who would run out of resources first: the nine-hundred-kilogram Ogre Warlord’s Life’s Inner Potential, or the Gale Knight’s Aura.

Wind Knights were not known for their endurance.

To save her, Victor would have to face a near-death, berserk Ogre Warlord. But just for that flowing black hair of the Stormwind female knight, he decided to save her this once.

There were only a handful of Gale Knights in the human kingdoms. According to family heraldry, Andria Wimbledon was technically his aunt, of the ten-generations-removed variety.

Like a weightless phantom, Victor cut into the battlefield from the side. The Ogre Warlord’s psychic intuition also detected the imminent threat. A fist larger than an adult’s head smashed toward him, turning the very air to paste.

An arrow, once loosed, cannot be recalled. A fist, once thrown, must be drawn back before it can be thrown again. Even Touch of the Mind couldn’t turn the Ogre Warlord’s arm into a tentacle with no blind spots. Fighting purely on instinct without the ability to think for itself was the difference between the Ogre Warlord and Tournans.

This gap, in the face of Victor’s peerless calculation and speed that transcended the mundane and entered sainthood, was a fatal flaw.

He flowed with the air, drifting like a catkin toward the Ogre Warlord’s wide-open chest. The black aura on his Adamantine longsword turned indigo. He dropped down sharply, and his sword flashed.

Apocalypse slowed time.

The agility of the Body of Gossamer.

The power of the Body of Bedrock.

The sharpness of the Azure Blade.

He plucked the berserk Ogre Warlord’s head from its shoulders as easily as picking a fruit.

Andria, moving like lightning, suddenly sensed a flash of void wind element behind her, immediately followed by the heavy, faltering steps of the Ogre Warlord and the sound of a tree breaking.

She leaped onto the branch of a large tree and looked back to see the headless Ogre Warlord flailing about for a moment before crashing to the ground. All its previous wounds burst open, and thick blood gushed like a fountain from its shattered body.

Two hundred meters away, a handsome young man in Dragon-Lizard leather armor stood holding an Adamantine longsword in one hand and the Ogre Warlord’s head in the other, watching her. He was tall and well-proportioned, with black hair, slightly pointed ears, and dark gold eyes that swirled with a misty, golden radiance. He held up the still-blinking Ogre head and said, “Andria, you know why it was covering its face earlier, and not the back of its head? Its skull is freakishly hard.”

Andria’s small mouth hung half-open, her eyes staring blankly at him.

“…Also,” he added, lifting the Ogre Warlord’s head, its jaw sliced off and its tongue lolling out. He shook his head with an expression of dissatisfaction.

“Narsen was right… this thing has no neck.”

Chapter 616: Annihilation

With the Ogre Warlord dead, the Gambis vanguard launched an all-out assault on the beastmen in Greyhound Village that afternoon.

The heavily armored Swift Dragon Knights charged at the forefront, forming a single file as they urged their six-legged Swift Dragons to gallop along the road built by the pioneers. Perhaps it couldn’t be called a charge; the Swift Dragon Knights did their best to avoid trampling the wheat fields, but the Swift Dragons’ running speed was already faster than a warhorse’s full charge. Although the knights willingly accepted the constraints of the road to protect the crops, the aberrant war beasts’ terrifying appearance, horrifying roars, and ferocious aura were enough to cow the beastmen of Greyhound Village.

The terrified beastmen scurried about in chaos. Some Goblins tried to flee into the village, while some Gnolls tried to escape outside, getting jammed together at the two breaches in the stockade wall.

Swiftbird light cavalry outflanked from the wings, their advance a true charge. The two-legged, large land-bound birds of prey caused minimal damage to the wheat shoots. Randall’s Personal Guard rode them, weaving through the waves of wheat at high speed, using their purple sandalwood warbows to precisely shoot down any beastmen attempting to flee, forcing them to take refuge behind Greyhound Village’s fences.

Nearly a thousand cavalry were the last to appear. They unhurriedly entered the outskirts of Greyhound Village, dismounted, and, holding shields and refined iron halberds, formed a battle line to completely surround the village.

The liege lord selected only the most elite Vassal soldiers to serve as cavalry. They were proficient with long and short weapons, as well as bows and crossbows. They were skilled in mounted combat but even better at fighting on foot, making them true all-around warriors. In most situations, the cavalry chose to dismount and fight, their warhorses serving primarily as a means of transport for heavy loads and mobility, preserving the cavalry’s stamina. They occasionally used mounted archery, but a massed cavalry charge was not a tactic they employed. This was because Goblins, Kobolds, and Gnolls did not favor dense formations; the only ones who liked a massed charge were Centaurs.

Compared to the omnivorous Centaurs, the herbivorous warhorses were clearly inferior in strength, stamina, and agility. It would be incredibly foolish for human cavalry to charge a formation of Centaurs; to charge Ogres head-on would be pure suicide.

With several thousand beastmen crammed into the narrow confines of Greyhound Village, it actually hindered the Ogres from leveraging their fearsome strength. Even an ordinary Ogre Brute posed a fatal threat to a Bronze Knight.

The vanguard completed their deployment, and the battle quickly began.

However, the resistance from this entrenched beastmen force was particularly stubborn. After all, their numbers were great, and they were equipped with simple weapons and armor, making their overall strength formidable. They could even defeat an Earl, and it would be difficult for even four standard high-ranked knight squads to take Greyhound Village in one go. The main reason was that they had no escape route and no choice but to fight to the death.

In truth, the Gambis vanguard had planned to annihilate this entrenched beastmen force from the very beginning, but they wanted to protect the wheat fields and the remaining stockade walls of Greyhound Village as much as possible. Otherwise, they would have first scattered the beastmen and then pursued them from behind, a strategy that would have minimized their own casualties.

A direct assault on a large, trapped beastmen force was bound to be a tough fight.

There are no surrenders in a racial war, so the beastmen’s desperate resistance was inevitable. What was surprising, however, was their level of organization.

The Swift Dragon Knights impaled the Ogre Warlord’s head on a wooden stake outside the village, but the anticipated chaos did not ensue. The beastmen were already a disorderly mess, and seeing their leader’s head only kept them that way. The two Silver-rank berserk Ogres seemed to have no intention of competing for leadership just yet.

The Ogre Warlord’s Hobgoblin slave temporarily took command of the beastmen tribe. It ordered the Goblins to move debris to block the two breaches in the fence; Dragon-blooded Kobolds spat flames, setting the obstacles ablaze, sending heat waves rolling out from the roaring fire; stones from Goblin slings rained down from behind the stockade wall, interspersed with large boulders hurled by Bugbears. The vanguard warriors raised their shields but were forced back step by step by the barrage.

The beastmen’s morale soared. Many excited Goblins climbed the fence, hoping to shoot down at the human warriors, only to be pierced by arrows and fall shrieking from the ramparts. The Goblins in the village first erupted in a clamor, then angrily launched an even fiercer counterattack. The barrage of stones turned from a heavy rain to a torrential downpour, looking from a distance like a sweeping torrent of water. Shield defense was clearly useless. The vanguard warriors scattered to avoid the onslaught, deliberately letting out loud cries of pain.

The power of a Goblin sling was actually quite astonishing. The thrown stones were the size of a grown man’s fist and could snap a small tree as thick as a bowl from thirty meters away. A direct hit to a soldier’s head would be a light wound if it only drew blood; even with a steel helmet, it could break their neck. Of course, the power of a volley from slings was much less, but even an armored Knight would be unwilling to face such a dense hail of stones.

It was not just demeaning, but also dangerous.

The stones thrown by the Bugbears were the size of round melons, weighing dozens of pounds, while those hurled by Ogres were massive projectiles of over two hundred pounds, leaving a crater wherever they landed from their own momentum.

With a high fence separating the two sides, the humans’ “cries of pain” made the beastmen even more excited, and they threw stones with greater vigor. But the direction from which the cries came also caught the Hobgoblin’s attention. A few Gnolls poked their heads up for a look and were immediately focused down by sharpshooters. The infuriated beastmen immediately switched direction and frantically hurled more stones.

The beastmen’s chaotic and fanatical nature made it impossible for the Hobgoblin to effectively control its subordinates’ bandwagon behavior. After a few such rounds, the stones coming from Greyhound Village became sparse.

They had run out of rocks.

The six-legged Swift Dragons, equipped with special armor, smashed through the obstacles set up by the Goblins. Dark red embers flew everywhere, and the sky-shaking roars of the aberrant war beasts signaled the cruel prelude to melee combat.

Dozens of Swift Dragons charged into Greyhound Village. Gillian and two Great Knights with an affinity for the earth element led their knight squad right behind them, immediately finding themselves besieged by beastmen.

Mainly Goblins.

These lanky humanoids, averaging 1.3 meters in height, were synonymous with frailty and cowardice. But when they had the advantage in numbers, or when they had no path of retreat, they would display the beastmen’s savagery and a strong desire to attack. A Goblin’s life was spent either fleeing or chasing food; the weak and the slow were all eliminated. In fact, Goblins were as agile as they were quick-witted. When one of their own was killed, the rest would shriek and scatter. The green-skinned runts scurrying everywhere all looked the same to their opponents. They scattered and regrouped like a tide, dazzling the eye. It was like when one zebra is startled, the whole herd starts running, their similar stripes disorienting predators and causing them to lose their target. But Goblins were not zebras; they were predators through and through. The moment they saw their prey’s back, they couldn’t resist attacking. Goblins from afar would use slings to hurl stones from all directions, while those with short wooden spears and crude daggers would simply rush in for a vicious strike. If the enemy didn’t react, they would strike again, or leap onto the enemy’s back and howl, only to shriek and scatter again when the enemy turned around, desperately cowering at the feet of an Ogre.

Ogre Brutes stood 2.7 meters tall, so the diminutive Goblins were no hindrance to them, nor did they care if they trampled a few. They swung their great clubs, smashing any six-legged Swift Dragon that was distracted by the Goblins. These terrifying monsters possessed peerless strength; a single blow could send an armored Knight flying. But when that same wooden club swung and hit one of their own kind, it would only make it stumble, fully illustrating the definition of a high-damage tank.

Of course, the Knights would not be hit by the Ogres. Their main opponents were the Bugbears.

There is a theory in monsterology that Ogres and Goblins share a common origin, because Bugbears can be seen as smaller Ogres. They are just as tough, just as immensely strong, just as stupid and brainless, and just as much the main fighting force of the beastmen. Throughout history, the beastmen who have killed the most knights are the Bugbears. They possess five times the strength of a normal person, and although they lack racial talents like combat intuition, berserk, or bloodlust, their nerves are so dull they don’t feel pain, their minds so stupid they don’t fear death, and their bodies so tough they are difficult to kill with a single blow. Grappling, dragging, and tearing with their teeth are their most common methods of attack, which they have honed to perfection.

Gnolls are always the cruelest, most cunning, and most bloodthirsty killers. They prowled on all fours at the edge of the battlefield, their green eyes glowing with a desire for slaughter, always ready to drag away a wounded enemy to tear apart and taste their flesh and blood. A Gnoll only strikes when it is certain of success. If a warrior’s willpower was not strong enough, being watched by a Gnoll would inevitably lead to distraction and unease, resulting in being grappled by a Bugbear.

However, the most surprisingly lethal beastmen were the Kobolds.

They are the miners and blacksmiths of the beastmen, possessing a contradictory nature of cowardice and brutality. As miners, they do not lack for strength. They also consume certain minerals that make their claws hard and sharp, capable of hewing ore from rock walls, and just as easily tearing through an enemy’s armor and flesh.

Fortunately, Kobolds were not particularly agile, posing little threat to nimble warriors. They mixed among the Goblins, climbing onto the backs of the six-legged Swift Dragons, using their claws to tear through the Swift Dragons’ chainmail and inner armor to dig out the flesh beneath their tough skin. The Swift Dragons would roll on the ground in pain, crushing the Kobolds and Goblins on their backs, only to have their legs pinned by Bugbears.

The role of an Extraordinary powerhouse on the battlefield was not as great as one might imagine. Victor had immediately leaped to the roof of Greyhound Village’s tallest warehouse and shot dead three Hobgoblins, but the blood-crazed beastmen fought on as they always did, cooperating based on instinct, needing no commander at all.

No wonder the Chosen could crush the beastmen. A Wizard’s single great fireball could clear a patch of Goblins, whereas Extraordinary Knights and high-ranking clergy lacked area-of-effect killing skills. Victor’s Raging Wind Domain could indeed kill Goblins and Kobolds in large numbers, but it was extremely draining. He had to conserve his vigor during battle; otherwise, he wouldn’t have manifested only five void wind elements to injure the Ogre Warlord.

Therefore, following the Knights, fully armed Elite Soldiers entered the Greyhound Village battlefield team by team. Meanwhile, Roland had already led four high-ranking female knights over the fence, sneaking into Greyhound Village from behind to first execute the two Silver-rank berserk Ogres, giving them no chance to use their berserk talent.

It was a good thing Victor had killed the Ogre Warlord in the beastmen’s lair beforehand. Otherwise, three berserk Ogres leading several thousand beastmen would have been enough to crush the Gambis vanguard’s offensive head-on.

They were all armed with metal spiked clubs, after all.

In theory, Victor could have annihilated this beastman force all by himself. If they didn’t flee, it would probably take him over two months. If they did flee, there was nothing he could do.

Now, the thick-skinned Swift Dragons acted as meat shields, drawing the beastmen’s fire. The Knights took advantage of the clash between Ogres and Swift Dragons to use their shields to hoist up the several-hundred-kilogram behemoths and lop off their heads with a single sword stroke. Mystic Warriors protected the Elite Soldiers from the Bugbears, forming ten-man combat units to squeeze the beastmen into the center. The High-ranked Knights could take a swath of beastmen lives with a single slash. Narsen was the most dazzling person on the battlefield; he used Whirlwind Slash without restraint, his two beheading greatswords unstoppable, leaving a trail of blood and gore in their wake.

This bloodthirsty stupid bear. If I don’t teach him a lesson, even if he doesn’t get himself killed, he’ll work the priests to death… Victor shook his head and casually fired a spiraling heavy arrow, blowing up an Ogre Brute that was preparing to swing its great club like a spinning top.

Narsen was enveloped in a platinum-gold radiance, a divine art from a battle priest replenishing his Life’s Inner Potential. Whirlwind Slash consumed a lot of stamina and also made him particularly vulnerable to being swatted by Ogres.

Victor had always thought Whirlwind Slash was flashy but impractical, only good for bullying Goblins and Kobolds. But he now deeply understood that, whether in combat or logistics, Goblins were the biggest troublemakers. Without Goblins, no other beastman was worth mentioning.

Was it not the same for ordinary humans?

The last Ogre fell with a thud, and the battle neared its end. The soldiers advanced with their longspears, ruthlessly slaughtering the green-skinned Goblins and Kobolds cornered in a corner, while the knight squad searched the damaged buildings for any who had slipped through the net. The Gnolls that had escaped were naturally left for the Swiftbird light cavalry to hunt down.

As dusk fell, the setting sun was the color of blood, and the battle of Greyhound Village was declared over. The village was filled with the sickening stench of blood. Soldiers covered their mouths and noses with cloths and began to clean the blood-soaked battlefield. The battle priests were busy treating the wounded, while all the Knight-Nobles had moved to the lakeside outside the village to set up camp and rest.

When the sun had set, the battle report was delivered into Victor’s hands.

In this battle, the Gambis vanguard had annihilated 1,456 Goblins, 3 Hobgoblins, 82 Bugbears, 398 Kobolds, 177 Gnolls, 45 Ogres, 2 berserk Ogres, and 1 Ogre Warlord. Aside from the beastmen who weren’t in the village and a few Savage Gnolls that managed to escape, the beastmen force entrenched in Greyhound Village had been completely eradicated.

The vanguard had committed 50 six-legged Swift Dragons to the battle; 4 died, 9 were seriously wounded, and the rest sustained minor injuries. Forty-five soldiers were killed in action, 37 were seriously injured, and 135 were lightly injured, most of them from stones thrown by Goblin slings. No Knights or clergy were seriously injured or killed; Victor and Roland had made it their main priority to protect them.

It was undoubtedly a glorious victory. The warriors were jubilant, but Victor’s heart felt heavy.

The night breeze blew gently, and the light of the silver moon spilled across the tranquil lake. The soldiers laughed and talked loudly around the bonfires. Victor started walking towards the tents of the seriously wounded, but he stopped in his tracks upon hearing suppressed groans and delirious murmurs from within. More than half of these thirty-seven seriously wounded soldiers had been saved by the priests, and among the lightly wounded who were now drinking and eating meat, dozens had also suffered grave injuries before. The twelve battle priests assigned to the Gambis vanguard by Flidis were utterly exhausted but still insisted on performing the ceremony to pacify the souls of the fallen warriors. And Victor, too, had already done his best.

This was just one battle. There were more battles waiting for the warriors of the human kingdoms. On a battlefield of flying flesh and blood, who could say they would live to the end? Who dared claim they could protect all their comrades until the end?

Victor had never been a ruthless person, but he was far from noble either. He had experienced combat before, but this was the first time he had witnessed the cruelty of a racial war. He was saddened by the heroic sacrifice of the warriors, but he was powerless to change it. Just as Sylvia hoped, he only wished for his lover to return home unscathed. In this wish, Sylvia was no different from the wife of an ordinary soldier, and Victor was no different from an ordinary soldier.

In the war trophy camp, downwind from the rest area, some people were still bustling about. Among them, an exceptionally tall figure was single-handedly lifting an Ogre’s corpse, using a sharp knife to carve out the tough sinews. His movements were skilled and fluid, full of a unique, rhythmical grace, yet no one gathered to watch and praise him. His hulking figure seemed silent and sorrowful, and a gloomy air hung about the others as well.

Caligula’s strength was immense, yet he dared not fight. His heart was kind and simple, and now, he worked hard to alleviate the guilt of avoiding battle. Charlotte, the attendant knights from Silver Moon Manor, the Ferocious warriors from Quicksilver Manor, the knight squad from Rose Manor, the Griffin Militia, and the Alchemical Soldiers had all been held back from the battle of Greyhound Village. They were now as embarrassed as the soldiers who had been left to guard the mounts—all except the Alchemical Humans.

Victor smiled faintly. This had been his order, because in a battle of this scale, he couldn’t protect every single one of his core subordinates. And some of them were not yet ready for battle. Rather than have his attention be divided by them, Victor was better off protecting a few more of the Knights who were participating in the fight. Although Charlotte and the others would eventually have to fight, they were not meant to die here. Instead, they were meant to eliminate an entrenched beastmen force alongside their liege lord without any backup, to gain a chance to grow, or to be buried in the earth like the fallen soldiers, or even end up in the belly of a beast.

As the Guardian of the Gambis Kingdom, a legendary Highness of the human kingdoms, and the heir to the Alchemical Empire, if Victor lacked even the ability to anoint his subordinates’ growth, what use was his power and status?

Victor would not sacrifice himself to save his subordinates, nor would he be as impartially just as Patriarch Flidis, who could ignore even his own children.

Since they were part of the Randall family, they would naturally receive extra care from His Highness Randall. At the very least, they deserved a chance to grow.

Victor was just as protective of his own as Sylvia… well, a liege lord who isn’t protective of his people isn’t a good liege lord, and a selfish clergyman isn’t a good clergyman.

After a moment of reflection on the soldiers who had bravely sacrificed their lives, Victor decided to go and comfort his own subordinates. A scar of shame on one’s heart was not a good thing for anyone.

Then, Victor saw Roland and Gillian walking together towards the war trophy camp.

Chapter 617: Spoils of War

The vanguard had built an additional temporary camp one kilometer downwind from the main resting area. All the spoils of war seized from Greyhound Village, aside from food and supplies, were transported here to be sorted and processed.

The spoils were quite substantial. More than four hundred tons of grain and nearly twenty tons of cured meat were only a small part of it. In the pastures outside the village, there were also cattle and sheep raised by the Goblins. The exact number of livestock hadn’t been tallied yet; the Swiftbird light cavalry had already gone to round them up and take stock, but it was estimated to be no fewer than five hundred head.

It had to be said, Hobgoblins were beastmen who knew how to manage their resources carefully, and the Ogre Warlord clearly knew how to make use of Hobgoblin slaves.

Inside Greyhound Village, there were also goods plundered by the beastmen, the most valuable of which were metal products. After being smelted by Kobold blacksmiths, they had been transformed into three heavy spiked clubs, a suit of half-plate armor for an Ogre Warlord, and a small number of Goblin shortswords, weighing over eleven hundred pounds in total. The amount of metal wasn’t much, but it was enough to craft tens of thousands of bronze arrowheads. For the eastern defensive line, where raw iron was scarce, every single arrow and crossbow bolt was precious during the war.

The spoils camp was filled with a bloody, foul stench. Victor used X-3 to dull his sense of smell, so he wasn’t bothered. The soldiers, however, had almost all tied cloths over their mouths and noses. Dressed in oilcloth aprons, they were dismembering beastmen corpses alongside the Sacred Warriors.

“Your Highness, you’re here.” A mid-rank Sacred Warrior saw Victor, dropped the ox-horn dagger in his hand, and greeted him from across the chopping block.

He was one of the few not wearing a mask. His hands and apron were smeared with blood and grime, yet his face was wreathed in a joyful smile, as if the nauseating smell had no effect on him. On the blood-soaked chopping block lay the corpse of a Kobold. Its chest cavity had just been sliced open, and the heart inside had disappeared without a trace, but on the ground beside the block was a wooden barrel.

Victor glanced over. There were nineteen Kobold hearts in the barrel. There were dozens of identical chopping blocks and barrels.

That’s right. The spoils camp was specifically responsible for processing beastmen corpses and collecting useful materials.

Just as beastmen turned humans into emergency rations, humans showed the beastmen no courtesy. The hearts of Kobolds and Savage beastmen were an important ingredient for making Dragon’s Vein Potions; the sinews of Ogres, Bugbears, and Savage Gnolls could be used as bowstrings for ballistae. Ordinary Goblins had no valuable materials on their bodies, but most aberrant war beasts were not picky eaters. It was said that the Moon Bear war beasts of the Teutonic Duchy could gain greater power by devouring the flesh of savage creatures, and even had a chance to become Dire Moon Bears. When the corpses of Ogres, Bugbears, and Savage beastmen fell into the hands of the Moon Bear family, not a single bit went to waste.

Although the six-legged Swift Dragons didn’t have this ability like the Moon Bears, their appetites were astonishing. A Swift Dragon weighing over seven hundred kilograms consumed an average of sixty-five pounds of meat per day. During high-intensity combat or marches, their food intake nearly doubled. The vanguard’s one hundred Swift Dragons devoured five tons of meat every day. Auguste complained about being poor all the time, and he was truly being eaten into poverty by the Swift Dragons.

Although the supplies for the Gambis vanguard were jointly covered by the Sasan Empire and the Church, the current supply system on the eastern defensive line could hardly meet the mobile needs of the Swift Dragon war beasts. The vanguard couldn’t just wander around the East Pioneer Fief for a few days and then run the Swift Dragons back to a supply point for meat.

Thus, aberrant war beasts had to sustain war with war. The Church only ensured that the supply points were well-stocked. No matter when the war beasts returned to eat and rest, the Church would record how much food the beasts needed in total and how many had died, then settle the account with the reinforcements using gold coins or supplies.

Fortunately, the six-legged Swift Dragons were not picky eaters and would even devour carrion without issue. These beastmen, along with the air-dried meat they had made, would be enough to feed the Swift Dragons for a while. The soldiers’ job was to break down the valuable materials and preserve the beastmen’s meat as best they could.

Smoking it was a good method.

Inside the camp, bonfires blazed. The stench of blood mingled with the charred aroma of roasting meat, a combination that made one want to retch. But when these disgusting materials were converted into gold coins, their value was dozens of times greater than that of the grain and supplies.

That was why this was called the spoils camp.

Human adaptability is strong. No matter how disgusting something is, if you see it and smell it enough, your senses will naturally adjust. But the psychological gap is not so easily bridged. Although processing game and corpses was a required lesson for attendants, true warriors were supposed to enjoy the glory of victory, while cleaning the battlefield and collecting spoils was the work of retainers. The vanguard warriors were all elites from various families, each holding at least the status of a Vassal. Some of them felt ashamed for not having participated in the battle, chief among them Victor’s own men.

The Sacred Warriors hadn’t fought either. Their main task was to protect the battle priests, so they were more than happy to do some rough work after the battle.

Compared to the Church’s Sacred Warriors, the attendants from Silver Moon Manor seemed too green.

Victor nodded at the mid-rank Sacred Warrior and ordered, “Gather everyone.”

Before long, all the soldiers in the spoils camp had gathered before His Highness Randall. The warriors from Centaur Hills stood in the front row.

Victor said nothing. He pushed aside a Kobold, lifted the corpse of a berserk Ogre, and tossed it onto a chopping block. He took out his Adamantine dagger and began to break it down. The sharp blade sliced through the Ogre’s grayish-green skin, revealing stinking yellow fat. His fair, slender hand reached directly into the foul-smelling chest cavity and pulled out the massive heart wrapped in fascia. He casually tossed the Ogre’s heart into a barrel, then turned to extracting its tendons and thigh bones. His expression was exceptionally focused, the blade moving with a fluid, natural grace, as if he were painting or sculpting rather than dismembering a filthy Ogre. One by one, the tendons were removed whole. The iron-hard thigh bones were stripped clean, revealing a crystalline yellow bone material like glazed rock.

He held the bone, examining it carefully for a moment before nodding in satisfaction. He spoke, almost to himself, “An Ogre’s bones are tougher than refined iron, have a greater affinity for the earth element than Mithril, and are light enough. The leg bones can be made into bone swords, the ribs into bone shields. They are worth a fortune, a glory that showcases martial valor. Only in a war against beastmen do we have the chance to see so many bone swords and shields. But this is not wealth, nor is it glory. They are merely the extraordinary weapons and shields that help us survive.”

“They are not for sale… They will be given to those who can fully unleash their extraordinary properties.”

A smile played on Victor’s lips. He set down the bone, and his dark gold, heterochromatic eyes swept over Caligula, Charlotte, Brandon, and Klaus; over Red Wolf, Rogers, and Macy; over the Rose Knights and the Mystic Warriors; over everyone present. Only when they had all straightened their backs did he retract his enigmatic smile and say solemnly:

“Breaking down spoils of war is not an important job… it is a necessary one. When I’m alone, if I have the means and the time, I do the same things you are doing now. When you are by my side, in addition to fighting alongside me, you must also clean up the spoils for me. If anyone dislikes this kind of work, then treat it as a trial. Whether you like it or not, whether you’re happy or not, you must do everything possible to help more people survive until we win this war.

“Remember, this is a part of war, and we are already in it.”

“Well said… but that’s my war trophy. Your Ogre Warlord is already in pieces.”

Roland, her hands clasped behind her back, sauntered over with a grin. Beside her stood the tall, coolly beautiful Gillian. Since when had the stingy, money-grubbing Young Lady Chapman become her good friend?

“Get to work.”

With a whoosh, the crowd scattered, each returning to the task of processing beastmen spoils. Victor summoned a breeze to clean the blood from his hands and said lightly, “The Ogre Warlord’s bones are still intact.”

Roland’s expression froze, and she glared angrily at Victor. The void water element possessed lethal properties of freezing, penetration, and corrosion. Her Mithril sword had entered the berserk Ogre’s head through its ear, a single, fatal strike that hadn’t damaged the tendons or the heart—a perfect kill. Victor’s kill of the Ogre Warlord, which had seemed so effortless, had actually severed every tendon in its body. It was not only wasteful but downright crude. However, it was an undeniable fact that the skeleton of an Ogre Warlord was a cut above that of a berserk Ogre chief.

Gillian’s eyes lit up. Pointing at her own nose, she pressed, “Darling, are the Ogre Warlord’s bones for me?”

The elemental affinity of biological materials was generally higher than Mithril’s. Ogres could be considered magical beasts with an affinity for the earth element. Their skeletons were sufficiently tough and had a particular affinity for the void earth element, making them very suitable for earth Knights to craft into bone swords, bone shields, vambraces, and greaves. However, better equipment meant greater responsibility, and Victor did not want Gillian to face enemies head-on like an earth Knight. She was currently only an initial-rank Silver Knight. Her strength was far from that of an earth Knight who could resonate with thirty-six Elemental Nodes, nor should she bear an earth Knight’s responsibilities. Naturally, she couldn’t take the best equipment.

“…Well.” Victor hesitated for a moment, then said tactfully, “Darling, bone equipment is too ugly. It’s not worthy of your beauty.”

Gillian shook her head repeatedly, patting her high chest. “It’s not ugly! I’ll polish it until it’s beautiful… I promise.”

“A promise won’t change anything.” Victor shook his head and said bluntly, “The Ogre bone equipment is prioritized for the earth Knights in the vanguard and the main reinforcements. If you stay with me, you’ll basically have no use for it.”

Her amber eyes stared at Victor’s face for a while before Gillian pursed her lips into a smile. “Sorry, Darling, I’ve decided not to follow you anymore… I’m going to follow Roland.”

Gillian’s eyes showed both seriousness and a lingering attachment. Victor grew stern. In a deep voice, he asked, “You’d better think this through.”

“Yes, I’ve thought it through very clearly. I’ll only slow down your pace of hunting powerful beastmen.” Gillian nodded, taking Victor’s hand. Softly but firmly, she said, “I have over one hundred followers from my family, and I can’t abandon them. If we all follow you around hunting strong beastmen, we won’t be much help and will only add to the supply burden. I want to use my sword to win my own glory.”

Victor tried to persuade Gillian to change her mind, tempting her, “If you don’t follow me, you won’t get the Ogre Warlord’s bones. If you do follow me, maybe you’ll get even better spoils of war.”

Gillian flung Victor’s hand away, lifted her sharp, charming chin, and feigned anger. “Fine, don’t give them to me! In any case, you still owe me several courtship gifts.”

“Darling, you can have my war trophy.” Roland’s smile was like a blooming flower. She wrapped an arm around Gillian’s slender waist, planted a kiss on her cheek, and then raised an eyebrow provocatively at Victor.

Is she really trying to poach my people?

The suspicion in Victor’s eyes deepened. His face darkened as he lowered his voice and asked, “Roland, what kind of bewitching potion did you give Gillian?”

The usually arrogant and domineering Gillian actually blushed. She shook off Roland’s arm and walked away towards the back, slightly flustered, saying, “I’m going to check on my spoils of war again… If they die, they won’t be worth anything.”

Her spoils were eight live Dragon-blooded Kobolds. This kind of monster had an innate talent for finding treasure, able to locate rare minerals and gems. However, the Church strictly forbade lords from keeping beastmen, an offense even more serious than harboring a Wizard. This was because no beastman could be healed by the Holy Light; they were an evil sapient species designated by the Lord of Radiance himself. Even so, some people still secretly used the treasure-hunting ability of Dragon-blooded Kobolds to search for rare ore veins like Mithril and Adamantine. However, Dragon-blooded Kobolds captured by the vanguard, right in front of battle priests and Sacred Warriors, had only one fate—to be transported to the rear and made into Dragon’s Vein Potions. A single live Dragon-blooded Kobold was worth thirty Kobold hearts and could be used to make ten top-tier Dragon’s Vein Potions. Gillian had caught eight, which she could exchange with the Church for eighty slots for body reconstruction. This was equivalent to seventy thousand Gold Sols, the kind of thing that had a price but was impossible to find on the market.

This was how war profiteering worked, but it had to be paid for with the lives of warriors.

Victor withdrew his gaze from Gillian’s retreating back and frowned. “Gillian, she…”

“For her father’s sake, she advanced to the Silver rank ahead of schedule and nearly died at the hands of the Ant-men… She’s willful, very young, and very simple, just like my sister. But she has her own pride. She is Silver Knight Gillian Chapman,” Roland rattled off.

Victor was struck speechless, then chuckled and shook his head. “Sister? You’re obviously older than her…”

“You’re mistaken. I’m younger than her,” Roland said with a serious expression.

Victor glanced at the princess’s breastplate and nodded. “Mm, you’re smaller than her.”

Roland’s eyebrows shot up like sharp swords. She gritted her teeth and said, “What the hell do you know! The style of the armor is different…”

Victor looked at the furious Roland with surprise. “What does it have to do with the armor? I said you’re younger than Gillian, but you’re stronger than her.”

“You… bastard!”

“Let’s talk by the lake.”

“Even if we go to the lake, I won’t let you see.”

The two of them walked towards a deserted stretch of the lakeside, bickering all the way. Victor was silent for a moment before saying, “I’ll transfer one hundred and twenty Swiftbird light cavalrymen to you.”

The combat prowess of the Swiftbird light cavalry had already left a deep impression on the vanguard’s officers and soldiers. Most importantly, they could command the intelligent Ash Falcons to scout for enemies from the sky, which was like having an extra one hundred and twenty pairs of eyes in the air. Roland’s anger vanished completely. She slapped her breastplate, which rang out with a thump-thump, and said cheerfully, “Excellent! You want me to protect Gillian? No problem, leave it to me.”

“She shouldn’t have come… She’s too young.” Victor sighed, his voice gradually growing low.

The commanders of the Gambis reinforcements were basically all veteran Silver Knights, with an average age of around eighty. Most of them had grandchildren who were already adults. They were mentally prepared for sacrifice and all held the conviction to break through the barrier of the Elemental Sea. But Gillian was only thirty-two, a huge gap in both personal strength and combat experience. As an initial-rank Silver Knight with an affinity for the earth element, her chances of survival in this war were pitifully small. Yet her pride and self-respect wouldn’t allow her to become a burden to her lover. This concerned her future on the Knight’s Path, so Victor couldn’t forcibly interfere. In fact, Gillian’s choice was very wise. Victor would definitely be going to hunt down the King of Beastmen; not only would he be unable to protect her in battle, but he would also be put in an awkward position.

Taking her with him was dangerous, but arranging for her placement elsewhere would attract criticism. Gillian didn’t want her lover’s reputation to be damaged.

Roland tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and said with a smile, “Gillian is very stingy. I’m putting her in charge of negotiating with the Sassans about the Gambis reinforcements’ supplies… Are you at ease now?”

Victor turned his head and smiled, then nodded. “Thank you for your protection, Your Highness.”

Roland’s eyes darted. “If you want to thank me, thank me with the method for taming Ash Falcons.”

Victor spread his hands and laughed. “I can’t help you with that… The ancient texts state it clearly: Ash Falcons are close to High Elves and are their battle companions; humans cannot tame them. The Ash Falcons nesting and procreating in the Randell Fief is because they favor me. Although I brought them with me, if they can’t sense my presence for a long time, they will either fly back to their nests in the Randell Fief or fly to my side.” “The York family also tried to tame Ash Falcons back in the day, but they ultimately failed.”

Roland nodded, then frowned and asked, “How long can the Swiftbird light cavalry control the Ash Falcons?”

“No more than a year,” Victor replied.

“A year? This war will definitely last more than a year.” Roland shook her head in disappointment. The aerial reconnaissance provided by the Ash Falcons offered a huge battlefield advantage. If it could only be used for a year, she felt it was a great pity.

Victor comforted her, “Don’t you still have one hundred and twenty Swiftbird light cavalrymen? They are all sharp-eyed mountain folk hunters who have practiced the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form that Narsen and I created for a full six years. They can be considered the most elite of mystic scouts.”

Roland asked with a half-smile, “Are you really willing to give me one hundred and twenty Swiftbird light cavalrymen? To use as I please?”

“Gillian was right. When I’m out hunting beastmen leaders in the wilderness, supplies are a big problem. Swiftbirds have quite the appetite; bringing too many is also a hassle. I have three knight squads with me; sixty Swiftbird light cavalrymen will be enough.”

Victor nodded, then added, “Don’t have them defend Greyhound Village to the death.”

Greyhound Village was the vanguard’s greatest spoil of war.

The first batch of fortified villages in the East Pioneer Fief were all in excellent geographical locations and close to the eastern defensive line. Recapturing these villages would push the defensive depth of the eastern defensive line forward by dozens of kilometers. Greyhound Village was near Fort Brown in the central part of the eastern defensive line, over ninety kilometers from Fort Brown’s easternmost barracks. It was surrounded by tens of thousands of mu of green wheat nearing harvest. The village’s layout was based on a large barracks, capable of housing fifteen hundred people. The stockade wall was mostly intact. The tops of the fourteen arrow towers were damaged, but with a few repairs, they could quickly be put back into use.

The Gambis main reinforcements were preparing to take over Fort Brown. The vanguard’s pre-emptive capture of Greyhound Village had both strategic and political significance. Victor and Roland had easily accomplished what Baselius had failed to do, which meant Patriarch Flidis could justifiably demand that the Baselius family hand over Fort Brown and go defend the northern front instead.

However, Greyhound Village was not a defensive node of Fort Brown. If cavalry forces couldn’t reach Greyhound Village from Fort Brown’s barracks within a day, it would inevitably be besieged by the Centaur army. But if Greyhound Village was abandoned, the Centaur army would set up camp there to rest and recover, as there was a lake and forest nearby. Whether for the need to pass military intelligence or to harass the Centaur army, Greyhound Village had to be held by human forces. It was inevitable that the garrison at Greyhound Village would be besieged by the Centaurs, and they even faced the danger of being completely wiped out.

Roland chuckled lightly. “The garrisons on the eastern defensive line will all be manned by Sasan militia; we are only responsible for mobile cavalry support. Besides, as long as we build more arrow towers, set up chevaux de frise, dig trenches, and pile up low walls around Greyhound Village, I don’t think the Centaurs can easily breach the Greyhound barracks. If the Sasan militia quickly erect a few more outpost camps to connect the defensive systems of Greyhound Village and Fort Brown, the eastern defensive line will have a salient. If the other pioneer villages are expanded in the same way, the Centaur or beastmen armies will ram into dozens of salients along the eastern defensive line. They will be forced into a wave-like advance, and they’ll scatter as they march, or they’ll be forced to storm the salients… This suits our needs. It can delay the engagement, and the Radiant Knights and the main Sasan legions can take the opportunity to attack their supply lines and wear them down.”

Victor’s military command experience was zero, but even he felt that Roland’s strategic deployment was unassailable. He shrugged and said, “I’ll be in charge of guerrilla attacks on powerful beastmen, and I’ll await Her Highness the Princess’s summons.”

Roland huffed, very satisfied with Victor’s attitude. She teased, “Your Aunt Wimbledon should have brought the news to your older cousin Baselius by now. In three days, we’ll go meet your older male cousin Baselius and your older female cousin, and take over Fort Brown while we’re at it.”

Victor said confidently, “They will give up Fort Brown; it’s in the Baselius family’s interest. However, we can’t let our relationship with the Baselius family get too strained either. After all, they command the Griffin Knights and forty thousand elite cavalry cobbled together from Sasan lords. I plan to give Baselius a gift, and I hope you’ll agree.”

“What gift?”

“Blue Taro Potion.”

“I agree.”

Roland nodded, her gaze turning to the moonlit surface of the lake. She said suddenly, “I have a feeling… there’s no King of Beastmen at all.”

“Hm?” Victor turned his head, his eyes deep as he asked, “Why do you say that?”

Roland held it in for a long time, then burst out, flying into a rage from shame and humiliation, “…A feeling, understand? A feeling is just a feeling, there’s no why… Idiot, I can’t get through to you… I’m going to sleep.”

Victor watched Roland’s retreating back and called out, “I also think there’s no King of Beastmen. What do you feel is compelling the Centaurs to unite?”

Roland turned and ran back. She glanced left and right, confirmed no one was around, and said mysteriously, “I feel like… Orogar has been resurrected… I don’t even believe it myself, so don’t you dare laugh at me!”

Victor was stunned. He murmured, “If Orogar has been resurrected, then a lot of things would make sense… They deliberately helped the beastmen slaves invade the East Pioneer Fief to establish entrenched beastmen forces, tying down the Sasan Empire’s main army, so the Sidon Centaurs could turn around and conquer the beastmen tribes in the east.”

Roland burst out laughing, pointing at Victor mockingly. “You believe that? How could a Legendary Centaur be resurrected? I was just teasing you…”

Victor said lightly, “Orogar can’t be resurrected, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a second Legendary Centaur…”

“The Sidon Centaurs producing two Legendary Centaurs in a row? That’s even more outrageous than Orogar being resurrected… Even I wouldn’t dare to think that.” Roland pouted. Seeing Victor’s stiff expression, her eyes widened. She asked cautiously, “You’re not serious, are you?”

Victor burst out laughing. “Just teasing you… You actually took it seriously.”

“Hmph… Such a fake laugh. I think you’re the one who’s taking it seriously,” Roland said coldly, crossing her arms.

Victor gave a dry laugh, his eyes half-closed, concealing a hidden worry. He said resentfully, “You even saw through that? How boring. I’m going to sleep.”

Chapter 618: Facing Reality

Duncan Fortress, the commander’s chambers.

Six tallow candles as thick as a child’s arm on the stone wall sconces illuminated the fifty-square-meter room. An exquisitely crafted cast-iron desk, imbued with the historical resonance of the Iron Mountain Empire, was a jarring contrast to the room’s simple furnishings.

There were no polished wooden floors, no carved wall decorations, no exquisite crystal chandeliers. The limestone bricks gave the room its plainest hue. This was originally a resting chamber for a Bronze Knight.

Duncan Fortress had more luxurious chambers. The successive sovereigns of the Friedrich family stayed in their exclusive rooms whenever they inspected the fortress. Now, Emperor Friedrich and Grand Duke Friedrich were trapped by the Centaur invaders in Bright City, hundreds of kilometers away. Duncan Fortress, the bastion guarding the eastern gate of the Sasan Empire, had welcomed a new commander—Duke Utheryn Baselius.

More than half of the secular lords in the Sasan Empire were descendants of the great nobles of the Iron Mountain Empire. Compared to Friedrich, they were more willing to recognize the legitimacy of the Baselius line. After all, no one liked the Paladin families lording over the secular lords and meddling in their affairs. Of course, Bloodline was also an extremely important factor. Stripped of the Mark of Light, the Friedrich family possessed only a top-tier Silver Bloodline, besides the blue hair that symbolized their ancient bloodline. The noble Bloodline of Baselius, however, was indisputable.

The Baselius of past generations had been more than happy to be addressed as ‘Her Majesty’ by the Sasan lords. Utheryn was an exception. He was known for his low-key and humble nature, and he objected to the title ‘Your Majesty’. Even when presiding over the defense of Duncan Fortress, he did not move into the exclusive chambers of the Friedrich royals, instead choosing this ordinary little room as his temporary residence. The cast-iron desk placed in the center of the room was only there because he was used to it; he had ordered it brought from the western fringes of the Empire, a journey of thousands of kilometers, to Duncan Fortress in the eastern territories.

Andria Wimbledon was rather critical of Utheryn. Although his humility had won him the friendship of Patriarch Flidis and tangible benefits for the western lords, being low-key was not the style befitting the Ironmount Royal Family. Because of some of Utheryn’s actions, the Highnesses of the Sasan Empire had begun to gravitate toward the Friedrich royals. The fact that nine of the Empire’s eleven Highnesses were currently trapped with Emperor Friedrich on the front lines of the Pioneer Fief was the most potent proof.

Ultimately, Patriarch Flidis was still a Testier. He would only ever side with the Radiant Knights. There would always be a bottom line to the Patriarch’s goodwill and fairness toward the Baselius family.

Utheryn could not be unaware of this, yet he maintained his low-key and humble style at this critical juncture. Sending a signal of submission to the usurpers would only leave the descendants of the Iron Mountain Empire’s nobility feeling disheartened.

Andria sometimes couldn’t help but wonder if her liege lord, the heir to the Iron Mountain Empire, Utheryn Baselius, had lost the ambition to restore his ancestor’s glory.

Letting out a breath, Andria said in a cool voice, “His Highness Wimbledon did not allow me to participate in the battle of Greyhound Village, so I do not know the specifics. However, His Highness Wimbledon did inform me that the vanguard of Gambis will arrive at Duncan Fortress the day after tomorrow to meet with Your Majesty.”

Sitting behind the iron desk, Duke Baselius pondered for a moment before asking in a gentle tone, “The Ogre Warlord that His Highness Randell slew—was it in a berserk state?”

Andria raised her fine, sword-like brows and corrected Utheryn’s mistake in address, “It is His Highness Wimbledon.”

Utheryn paused, looking up at the stunningly beautiful Countess. Seeing her serious expression, he couldn’t help but pat the desk and say jokingly, “If the Gold-Eyed Earl is His Highness Wimbledon, then how can your branch of the Wimbledons claim to be the true line?”

Andria said flatly, “My line was never the direct offspring of Sword Saint Draven. Since His Highness Wimbledon has manifested the supreme bloodline of the Sun Elves, he is, by right, the true head of the Wimbledon line.”

Utheryn praised her with a smile, “Andria, so you can accept reality.”

“The fact that Your Majesty is the direct descendant of Empress Baselius and Prince Wimbledon, possessing a noble Gold Bloodline and being the heir to the Iron Mountain Empire, is also an indisputable truth,” Andria said, her voice as cold as ice.

Utheryn’s smile turned wry. He shook his head and said, “You’re right, but I don’t like the title of ‘Your Majesty’. It makes me feel embarrassingly unworthy of the name… Alright, as long as My lord Earl is happy, you may call me whatever you wish… Ahem, so, His Highness Wimbledon slew a heavily injured, berserk Ogre Warlord?”

“Yes.” Andria’s expression softened slightly as she nodded. It was difficult to stay angry at a magnanimous and humble liege lord.

“Do you know what this means? A complete rout… His Highness Wimbledon’s strength utterly crushed the Gold rank Ogre Warlord.” Utheryn said excitedly, “If he can crush an Ogre Warlord, he can crush the vast majority of Gold-rank beastmen leaders. With His Highness Wimbledon securing the eastern defensive line, we can prevent so many deaths… Alas, I once doubted his Legendary strength. I was clearly wrong.”

Andria pursed her lips lightly and asked, “Can Your Majesty slay a Savage Ogre Warlord?”

“It’s not the same.” Utheryn shook his head with a smile. “Even the two Legendary Knights, Nachtigal and Neo Wester, couldn’t have done what the Gold-Eyed Earl did. They would have had to lead a full-scale assault on Greyhound Village, facing the Ogre Warlord and its beastmen slaves simultaneously. Tournans and Testier could have ambushed the Ogre Warlord alone, but they would have had to wait patiently for it to be isolated. Whether that would take a day or a month, who can say.”

He paused, then asked, “You don’t seem very happy?”

The Countess’s inner worries were written across her exquisitely beautiful face. She frowned and retorted, “Do you think this is something to be happy about? His Highness Wimbledon clearly intends to take command of Duncan Fortress. This fortress is the central hub of the eastern defensive line and holds extraordinary political significance. It’s virtually symbolic of the Sasan Empire’s imperial capital.”

Utheryn shrugged his shoulders and teased, “I thought His Highness Wimbledon lending his aid would fill you with admiration.”

“That joke is not funny!” Andria’s sharp gaze fixed on Utheryn’s azure eyes as she said coldly, “I have a husband.”

“Andria, I meant no offense,” Utheryn said seriously. “But I must say, Acreed is already prepared to advance to the Silver rank. you cannot keep holding him back. I don’t wish to see you and Acreed Baselius turn against each other and become enemies…. We have to accept reality.”

Andria had a husband and an heir, but even her unparalleled beauty could not stop her husband from pursuing the Path of the Knight. One day, they would separate, like most Silver Knight couples, to pursue their own partners and propagate their noble bloodline, thereby strengthening their family.

“My affairs with Acreed are not for Your Majesty to worry about. Your Majesty should face the reality before you,” Andria said, displeased. “The lords long for a Baselius to lead them to victory and glory.”

“Alright.” Utheryn nodded with a smile, then changed the subject. “The reality is that once the Church lit the red smoke beacons, they had no intention of letting the Centaur army go. The command of the war has always been in the hands of Grand Commander Testier, and the command of the eastern defensive line is actually in the hands of Patriarch Flidis. In this war that has engulfed all the human kingdoms, Duncan Fortress is just one fortress on the eastern defensive line. It holds no political significance… The reality is, we only have forty thousand cavalry on hand. They come from the great families of the Sasan Empire. The lords entrusted their most elite cavalry to me, and they certainly do not wish for me to treat them as worthless sacrifices… The reality is, the garrison soldiers defending the eastern defensive line are composed of militia from various families, to be deployed by the commanders of each war zone, but Siegfried Friedrich bears full responsibility for them… All of this was agreed upon between myself and Patriarch Flidis beforehand. No matter how many garrison soldiers die on the eastern defensive line, it cannot be blamed on us… Friedrich’s Crown Prince bears the greatest responsibility. Patriarch Flidis controls logistics, reinforcements, and the power of divine arts. If he demands we abandon the Duncan Fortress war zone, on what grounds can we refuse? Why should we refuse? Joining forces with Aurorsia meets the needs of the eastern defensive line, and it’s in our best interest.”

“Andria, don’t let the past glory of our ancestors and your pride blind you… Hmm, this is my advice to you.”

The Countess was stunned for a moment, then said hesitantly, “But… but we have expended vigor and made sacrifices in the Duncan Fortress war zone…”

“But we were not the ones who broke through Greyhound Village.”

Utheryn stood up and said, “Andria, I have already sent a messenger raven inviting Aurorsia to Duncan Fortress to meet with the two Highnesses from Gambis. You might as well go and arrange for their reception… Oh, right, Patriarch Flidis and Crown Prince Siegfried will also be attending the meeting.”

Duke Baselius had given the order to leave. Andria composed herself, rose, bowed, and took her leave.

As the crisp sound of the Countess’s footsteps faded away, Utheryn shook his head with some amusement. Andria was proud by nature but lacked patience and outstanding political talent. Yet, she was the sharpest of swords, feared by her enemies and handled with caution by her master, forever a stranger to gentleness.

Whoever married her was in for a hard time. Poor Acreed, may you have a pleasant night… Utheryn prayed for his distant younger cousin, then pulled open the door and walked alone toward the fortress dungeons.

The spiral staircase leading down into the earth was dark and cold. Utheryn’s combat boots made no sound on the damp stone steps; he seemed to have merged with the subterranean environment.

The prisoner held within was completely unaware of the Duke’s arrival. Not until the cell door creaked open and then slammed shut did the startled prisoner slowly sit up from his nest of dry straw. Two dim red lights glowed from deep within his eye sockets, like the eyes of the undead from legends.

“I am most pleased to see Your Highnesses.” The prisoner’s voice was old and dry, a complete mismatch for his brawny, muscular frame.

A tall lady stood beside Utheryn. The darkness concealed her face, but the prisoner’s eyes seemed to possess the ability to pierce the gloom.

“What should we call Your Excellency?” the lady asked, her voice as light and pleasant as a flowing stream, as if it could flow right into one’s heart.

“Honorable Highness Baselius, you may call me ‘Prisoner’.” The prisoner bowed to the lady with a hand to his chest.

This lady was none other than the Guardian of the Baselius family, the Gold Knight who defended the northern part of the eastern defensive line, Aurorsia Baselius.

“Prisoner?” Utheryn looked the prisoner up and down and chuckled. “Speaking to us through the body of a death row inmate… quite a magical bit of Wizardry… There are many priests in Duncan Fortress. Aren’t you afraid of being exposed when you perform your Wizardry?”

The red light in the Prisoner’s eyes flickered as he answered slowly, “This ritual is very complex and costly, but it has the unique quality of being undetectable by priests.”

“So, Your Excellency admits that you have a connection to the Radiant Church?” Aurorsia asked coolly.

“Heh heh, since the turmoil of the Pantheon, no Wizard organization has appeared in the human kingdoms. Your Highnesses are extraordinarily wise; you can naturally deduce that the Church has secretly cultivated a Wizard organization.” The Prisoner nodded and said frankly, “That’s right, we are connected to the Church. We are devout believers of the Supreme Lord. Outwardly, we are The Shadow Council; inwardly, we are the Shadow Priests. Our mission is to gather those awakened to Wizardry in the human kingdoms and prevent a repeat of a disaster like the Pantheon.”

Utheryn and Aurorsia seemed to have expected this answer, or perhaps no turn of events could shake the will of a Gold Knight. They exchanged a glance, and Duke Baselius nodded. “It’s only natural for the Church to guard against a similar disaster, and controlling Wizards has always been the way of the Knight-Nobles. Since the papal line has lost its power, it is logical for the Radiant Knights to secretly cultivate Shadow Priests.”

“I have a question. The Shadow Council helped our Baselius family cultivate Bloodlust Warriors, and we’ve been dealing with each other for three years. Your Excellency ‘Prisoner’ has always refused to meet with us. Why have you suddenly chosen this moment to request a meeting?”

The Prisoner said, “At this time of peril for the human kingdoms, as servants of the Supreme Lord and as extraordinary beings among humanity, we Shadow Priests must also contribute our strength. And we also have our own requests.”

“Oh? What do the Shadow Priests hope to gain in this war?” Aurorsia interjected.

“The right to walk in the sunlight,” the Prisoner said in a heavy voice, his tone thick with repressed longing.

Aurorsia let out a soft laugh and said mercilessly, “Your Excellency’s request is a bit too much to ask. No one will acknowledge the Shadow Priests as part of the Radiant Church. You are merely the private soldiers of the Trigoval family.”

The Prisoner was silent for a moment before speaking in a hoarse voice, “This is the situation we are trying so desperately to change… I can understand the mortal believers’ fear of Wizards. ‘Walking in the sunlight’ is our ideal. Realizing this ideal will be a long process, and it requires someone to take the first step.”

Utheryn smiled. “Ideals may not be realized; survival is the most pressing matter. How can there be shadows under the sun? Shadows always hide behind behemoths. Since the Inquisition intends to use the power of The Shadow Council, you will face a great purge after the war. Only then can the Trigovals come out clean. To be frank, I’m afraid we cannot shelter Your Excellency, but you can use the power of the Baselius family to leave behind a legacy. The Ironmount Royal Family’s council of Mage advisors, what do you think? At the very least, your descendants can become true nobles.”

“No.” The Prisoner shook his head firmly. “A Wizard organization without faith will only slide into the abyss of desire and bring unimaginable disaster upon this world… In your noble terms, the Church is a bigger backer than the Baselius family. Why would we give up the protection of the Church to choose a mere royal family?”

“I never thought Your Excellency’s faith in the Supreme Lord was so devout,” Aurorsia scoffed. “But in the end, you just want to break free of the Trigovals’ control and become an independent institution within the Church, thereby wielding greater power.”

The Prisoner shook his head and said, “I must remind Your Highnesses that we are also extraordinary beings, possessing extraordinary power beyond the reach of ordinary people. Are we not worthy of power?”

“But you are not bound by the Radiant Code!” Duke Baselius’s gaze was like lightning, his aura surging like a towering, imposing mountain as he stated resolutely, “We have our disagreements with the Radiant Knights, but we will not permit the Chosen to rise from the ashes and rule the human kingdoms once more!”

“Why must Your Highness test my power? This is merely the shell of a death row inmate.” The Prisoner said unhurriedly, “What does it matter if the Trigovals are bound by the Radiant Code? They traffic in people, murder the innocent, and shelter consanguineous marriages among the Knight-Nobles. These sinful dealings are inextricably linked with great nobles like yourselves. Many of the Friedrich family’s secret art death commandos and secret knights come from the Eastern Alliance, which is controlled by the Trigovals… Also, I must correct a misconception Your Highness holds. The Radiant Code binds everyone, Wizards included. Its restraint lies in protection and Redemption, not punishment and annihilation. There is no law in the Radiant Code calling for the extermination of Wizards, because we come from mortals, and Devils also covet the souls and flesh of Wizards. Faith in the Supreme Lord can protect our souls from the temptations and persecution of Devils. Fallen Wizards who forsake their faith will be Purified by the clergy, becoming a part of Divine Favor.”

“When the first Pope established the Radiant Code, he had already left a Path for Wizards—the faith of self-redemption and supervision from the clergy. In fact, His Majesty Inoc was also an Archwizard. Since we can accept the healing of the Holy Light, we must be favored by the Supreme Lord.”

“Your Excellency ‘Prisoner’ has a very thorough understanding of theology. You have already found a theoretical basis for the Shadow Priests to step into the light.” Aurorsia sighed faintly, shaking her head gently with a regretful tone. “It seems we will have a hard time reaching a consensus… In that case, what can we do for Your Excellency, and what can Your Excellency bring to the Baselius family?”

The Prisoner chuckled lowly. “Very simple. Find a way to let our people meet with His Highness Randell.”

Utheryn’s eyes glinted as he asked, “I’m curious. The Shadow Priests are so resourceful; surely you can contact the Centaur Hills yourselves?”

“For certain reasons, we are unable to travel to the Centaur Hills… and this sudden beastmen war provides an opportunity for us to cooperate with His Highness Randell, as well as His Highness Sylvia. We hope to gain the support of the southern Empire.”

Aurorsia’s voice was ice-cold as she asked, “And then? You’ll sell the Bloodlust Warriors you sold to us to the Centaur Hills?”

“Heh, heh, heh… Don’t be too greedy, noble and wise Highness Baselius.” A cackling sound came from the Prisoner’s throat as he said, “The Wizards we found in the Sasan Empire are only serving the Baselius family temporarily. They will eventually return to the Church to serve the Supreme Lord. I believe the enemy of my enemy is my ally. The Paladin families are clearly the political enemies of the Baselius family. A single Baselius Duke is not influential enough to help the Shadow Priests step into the light, but His Majesty Baselius can, the Iron Mountain Empire can. We are willing to lend the Baselius family a hand. This is beneficial for both of us, is it not?”

Utheryn rubbed the back of his head and said with a friendly smile, “Is that all? I was expecting something more substantial.”

The Prisoner was silent for a moment, then nodded. “Once the Shadow Priests break free from the Trigoval family’s control and truly become a branch of the Church, we will remember the goodwill from the Baselius family. Your Highnesses will see the even more valuable research results of the Shadow Priests. Bloodlust Warriors are nothing… Although the Baselius family won’t be able to monopolize the extraordinary results of the Shadow Priests, it’s better than having nothing at all. At the very least, we guarantee the Baselius family priority.”

“Vague and general… Be more specific.” Aurorsia’s voice was full of displeasure.

The red light in the Prisoner’s eye sockets contracted, and after a moment, he said, “The Shadow Warriors created using the Sacred Warrior Crystal possess the abilities of Savage state, fire of the mind, and Bloodlust… You will see a sample of the Shadow Warriors, but to get more of them, the Shadow Priests must first grasp power and be able to allocate the Church’s resources.”

Utheryn and Aurorsia exchanged a look, then smiled and nodded. “Deal… How do you wish to meet with His Highness Randell?”

“Your Highness Baselius need only relay His Highness Randell’s whereabouts to Wizard Luke. We will meet with him alone at the appropriate time.” The red light in the Prisoner’s eyes flickered weakly, and he said in a hoarse voice, “My time is almost up. If there is anything else, contact us through Luke.”

With that, the Prisoner fell backward onto the ground, all signs of life gone. Utheryn stroked his chin, carefully sensing for any elemental fluctuations out to his maximum range, and smiled. “Dead… Wizards always have strange abilities. Fortunately, their Wizardry can’t hide from our elemental perception.”

Aurorsia glanced at the Prisoner lying on the floor and said flatly, “He was already dead… Besides the fire element, I couldn’t sense any pulsation from the water element. This seems to be the legendary manipulation of the undead.”

Utheryn crossed his arms, a sarcastic smile on his lips as he shook his head and sighed, “Another bunch who refuse to face reality…”

Aurorsia turned her head and asked, “What are your thoughts?”

“My thoughts? There will only ever be two empires in the human kingdoms: the Iron Mountain in the north and Gambis in the south… Only a Gold Bloodline can form an empire. Friedrich and the Radiant Knights are just paving the way for us. Whether it’s the beastmen war or the pioneer war that comes after, I don’t want to see any problems arise within the Radiant Knights.”

Duke Utheryn Baselius’s eyes gleamed as he said with a low laugh, “Those little Wizards the Shadow Priests found, along with the legacy of the Bloodlust Potion, I want to swallow them all whole. However, I am very interested in the Shadow Warriors. Once we obtain the method for creating Shadow Warriors, the Shadow Priests can go die. It would be best if we can bring down the Trigovals with them, and the Inquisition can be placed under the name of the Curia from now on.”

Then he added, looking troubled, “The question is, which Patriarch would be suitable to sell the Shadow Wizards to? In any case, it can’t be Flidis.”

Aurorsia nodded slightly, frowning as she said, “My only worry is that the Shadow Priests might be a threat to His Highness Randell. When Sylvia reaches the moment of her Annihilation, she will, like our ancestor Verodica, possess an omniscient power. If she wanted to destroy the Baselius Gold Bloodline, it would take but a single thought.”

“Hmph, without the power to move the Elemental Sea, how can a Wizard’s Wizardry harm a legendary powerhouse? Besides, His Highness Randell is already approaching the Saint realm.” Utheryn said dismissively, then after a thought, he added, “At worst, we’ll arrange a marriage alliance through fostering with the York family.”

Chapter 619: The Style of the Nobles

To the vast majority of common people, Wizards existed only in stories passed down by word of mouth. They were synonymous with evil and terror, children of Devils that only the bravest, noblest, and most powerful clergy could Purify. But the great nobles could easily lift the Wizard’s veil of mystery and see their weakness. This was especially true for a top-tier royal family like the Baselius, with its long history and sprawling branches. Ruling over nearly one million registered subjects, they had employed Vassal Wizards for a thousand years and had long since established a secret system for controlling them. Many of their vassal nobles were even descended from the Baselius family’s own Wizards.

Uther’s claim to the “Prisoner” that he could form an Iron Mountain Royal Wizard Corps was no idle boast. The royal family’s Wizard corps had a legacy stretching back more than two thousand years; it was just that its scale was relatively small, and its line of succession had been broken a few times.

In the human kingdoms of today, when it came to understanding Wizards, the Baselius family was likely second only to the Church.

Wizards had a bizarre assortment of abilities, but stripped of their magical talents, they were of mortal flesh and blood. Their extraordinary powers were one-dimensional, their movements slow, and their emotions complex and volatile. Even the Mystic Warriors meticulously trained by the family could kill the vast majority of Wizards. Only those Wizards who had undergone rigorous training from a young age could integrate their extraordinary powers with martial skill, willpower, and experience to form any real combat effectiveness. For example, the Baselius family had a Wizard who could generate a bubble on the surface of an object, allowing himself and others to move freely underwater. This Wizardry itself had no offensive power, but after training, he learned to use the bubble to envelop Fire oil, mimicking the effect of a fireball spell. In battle, he would be surrounded by several Fire oil projectiles that could track a target and cause a raging inferno, while he himself could walk safely through the searing flames.

Will, disposition, experience, and tactics were always more important than pure magical power. In this respect, Knights, whose minds and bodies were one, possessed a huge natural advantage. They could often kill the arsonist Wizard before the fireball even hit them, and then retreat unscathed.

The Baselius family divided Wizard talents into two categories: mental and miscellaneous. Mental Wizardry was more lethal than the miscellaneous sort, but Gold-rank lifeforms were almost always able to resist the negative effects of mental Wizardry, unless the casting Wizard’s spiritual strength reached the Legendary-rank.

This was obviously impossible.

The Church proclaimed that the Lord of Radiance had altered the Laws of the world, forever severing the link between Wizards and the Elemental Sea and limiting their Wizardry to a level below Gold rank.

Whether the Church’s claim was true or not, there was a fundamental logic to it. If the extraordinary power of Wizards had not been weakened to an extreme degree, they would not have been reduced to prey for the Nobles and clergy to harvest, and the Shadow Priests would have no need to implore the secular great lords for support.

Auroxia was unsure of just how many tricks the Shadow Priests had up their sleeves, but like Uther, she was certain that no matter what ploys the Shadow Wizards attempted, they could not threaten the Gold-Eyed Earl’s safety. It was like a shallow stream trying to drown a mammoth—the gap between them was simply too vast.

Having dismissed the possibility of the Shadow Priests plotting against the Gold-Eyed Earl, Auroxia pondered for a moment before offering her assessment. “The ‘Prisoner’ gives me a very pedantic impression… He’s desperate to gain the lords’ recognition for the Shadow Priests, yet he staunchly sides with the Church. From this, I can tell he’s a fanatic who grew up in the Theocracy of Ayr, in a sheltered environment. He has some awareness of the outside world, but it isn’t deep enough.”

Uther nodded and continued, “I can’t use elemental perception to tell if an undead’s words are true. However, I agree with you. The Shadow Priests are too naive; they have no idea what a true noble is.”

The Baselius family might look down on the power of contemporary Wizards, but they valued their utility.

The Shadow Council had secretly contacted the Baselius family to train Bloodlust Warriors for them. Only then did Uther and Auroxia gain a direct understanding of the broader applications of a Wizard’s magical power. Of course, they wanted to completely master the Shadow Wizards’ research on potion-craft, a crucial prerequisite of which was to discover more young Wizards. No matter how laughable their magical talents were, as long as they possessed magical power, they could be used to continuously create Bloodlust Potions, helping the Baselius royal family build a powerful Bloodlust Legion.

The Prisoner’s claim that those young Wizards would only serve the Baselius family temporarily, and would eventually have to return to the jurisdiction of the Church, had already infringed upon the Baselius family’s vast interests.

During this secret meeting, the Shadow Priests had not mentioned their detailed plan to break away from the Trigovar family, only requesting that Baselius ultimately support them. It was perfectly normal for the Prisoner to hold things back from Baselius. However, Uther and Auroxia were not optimistic about the Shadow Priests’ chances, believing their probability of success to be minuscule.

Since the Shadow Priests were destined to lose, why shouldn’t Baselius swallow up those young Wizards and the potion-craft legacy? And since they had decided to possess this power, why not simply sell out the Shadow Priests and gain leverage over the Trigovar family, saving Baselius the trouble of the Church coming after them for the potion-craft legacy later?

The Prisoner’s so-called offer to help Baselius restore the Iron Mountain Empire was a huge joke.

A family’s political force was correlated with its number of Knight-Nobles, and the number of Knights was tied to the quality of its Bloodline. With the Radiant Knights leading the Sasan Empire to reclaim the human ancestral lands, the Frederick family’s Silver Bloodline could at most support a kingdom. The Baselius family’s Gold Bloodline, however, could unquestionably control an empire. This was why Testier was trying to improve relations with Baselius through Patriarch Flidis. The secular power of all six great Paladin families combined could only maintain a single empire, whereas the Baselius’s Iron Mountain Empire was certain to be revived as its territories expanded.

The Sasan and Iron Mountain Empires would form two mutually supporting northern empires, and might even become allies through marriage.

The development strategy formulated by Uther and Auroxia was very clear. Militarily, they would cooperate closely with the Radiant Knights to jointly eliminate the beastmen invaders and seize the territory of the Westdon Khanate. Politically, they would provide mutual support to the southern empire, jointly resisting the Church’s divine authority to ensure the Iron Mountain Empire’s independence and break free from the constraints of the Paladin families.

As for the Sasan Empire, they would let the Frederick family and the Radiant Knights manage it.

Cooperation required a foundation of equal strength. For the Shadow Priests to jump out and talk about “the enemy of my enemy is my friend”? They had probably read too many plays written by Bards and thought they understood the politics of the great nobles. How naive!

Of course, Baselius would not be so quick to sell out the Shadow Priests. If they truly had a chance to become a branch of the Church, Baselius wouldn’t mind putting in a good word for them. At its root, the struggle between the Shadow Priests and the Inquisition was an internal affair of the Church. Baselius just had to sit back and watch the show. But the Shadow Priests could forget about making Baselius spit out the benefits they had already swallowed.

Not only would Uther not hand over the young Wizards, but he also intended to extract more wealth from the Shadow Priests, such as the secret art of training Shadow Warriors.

“I will tell Luke that if the Shadow Priests want us to help arrange a private meeting between the ‘Prisoner’ and His Highness Randall, they must first create a Shadow Warrior for us,” Duke Baselius said.

“As they should,” Auroxia nodded, then changed the subject. “This Centaur invasion is full of suspicious points, too many coincidences… Do you think the Shadow Priests could be behind this?”

Uther’s blue eyes shifted to amber. After a moment, he said in a low voice, “I’ve considered that, but I don’t believe the Shadow Priests have that kind of ability… it would take something like the Great Divination. But if the Shadow Priests possessed an extraordinary power similar to Great Divination, why would they need to seek the support of secular lords? They would have broken free from the Inquisition’s control during the Holy City Uprising over three hundred years ago and become an independent institution within the Church.”

“You also believe the Shadow Priests were involved in the Holy City Uprising over three hundred years ago?” Auroxia asked with a smile, raising a delicate eyebrow.

The Duke nodded. “I have reviewed the records in our family’s collection. There are indications that the Shadow Priests participated in the Holy City Uprising. The Neo Wester family was even accused by the Inquisition over a Wizard incident. However, the Pope of that generation passed away two years later, and when a new Pope took his place, the matter of Neo Wester harboring Wizards was no longer pursued. Shortly after, Testier removed Trigovar from the Radiant Knights to lead the Inquisition and guard the Radiant Holy Mountain. On the surface, they were thereafter responsible for monitoring the Lightguard and the new Pope, but in private, Trigovar probably conducted a great purge of the Shadow Priests.”

“The Pope of that generation used Great Divination and still failed to counterattack, ultimately dying from the backlash of the art. It shows that even Great Divination isn’t omnipotent.” Uther smiled. “The ‘Prisoner’ needing our help to contact His Highness Randall is proof enough of their weakness.”

Auroxia gave a slight nod and said faintly, “The divine art of a priest using a Sacred Warrior Crystal to temporarily gain the arts and combat power of a high-ranking Sacred Warrior has existed since ancient times. The Shadow Warrior described by the ‘Prisoner’ seems to be of the same lineage. If the Shadow Wizards can use a Sacred Warrior Crystal to create a Shadow Warrior, it would prove they are indeed fanatics of the Theocracy of Ayr. Only then can we trust them enough to reveal His Highness Randall’s whereabouts to the Shadow Priests.”

Uther stroked his chin and teased with a smile, “Auroxia, you’re quite concerned for our cousin Victor.”

Auroxia giggled, her voice alluring. “I’d very much like to get close to cousin Victor, but alas, he already has Sylvia… I won’t go looking for rejection. In any case, I am an offspring of Her Majesty Verodica. To be rejected after professing my love to a Sun Elf… how utterly humiliating that would be.”

Uther shook his head and sighed. “A pity indeed… Cousin Victor will undoubtedly hold power in the Gambis Empire for over a hundred years, and both the northern and southern empires need a path of retreat in the other’s territory. But if we form a marriage alliance with the Gambis Kingdom, it will trigger a strong backlash from the Radiant Knights and the Dodor Kingdom… Are we really forced to place our bets on Neo Wester, who is supported by the Radiant Knights?”

With the massive invasion of the Sidon Centaurs, the Baselius family’s desire for a safe haven on the Southern Continent became all the more urgent. But in the current situation, it was not suitable for Baselius and Gambis to be seen openly in the same trench. If Baselius followed the tradition of a marriage alliance and publicly exchanged children with Auguste or York, it would be tantamount to betraying the northern lord families. After all, the southern expansion lords and northern expansion lords were in competition when it came to divine arts; it was a matter of position.

However, Baselius could not ignore the political influence that a channel of refuge on the Southern Continent would bring. If the Radiant Knights successfully established a relationship with the Neo Wester family, the Sasan royal family would naturally gain a significant voice, placing Baselius and the other Sasan lords on the same starting line, which was another way of being led by the nose by the Radiant Knights.

In short, as fellow royal families, whatever the Frederick family had, Baselius must also have. If Frederick was cozying up with Neo Wester, Baselius had to secretly associate with Gambis.

This time, Victor and Roland leading the Gambis reinforcements to the Sasan eastern defensive line was a good opportunity for Baselius. However, Flidis was watching both sides like a hawk, even trying to create conflict between them. His goal, of course, was to push Baselius into the overall strategy laid out by the Radiant Knights.

Uther thought it over and over. It seemed that lover’s diplomacy was the only, albeit unseemly, channel of communication. But the Gold-Eyed Earls were of too high a status. The high-ranking female knights of the Baselius family would never stoop like the noblewomen of the Eleanor family and submit to an external power. They would not go to the Gambis Kingdom to serve a Gold-Eyed Earl. And if the lovers were of equal status, with no children and no way to live together, then a partner relationship couldn’t exist.

Auroxia suddenly gave a soft “oh” of surprise. “It seems we underestimated the ‘Prisoner’… Although he doesn’t understand what a noble is, he does have some political insight.”

Duke Baselius pondered for a moment, then understood the Family Guardian’s meaning.

The Church, using Lake Fies in the Randt Imperial territory as its foundation, was attempting to turn the Theocracy of Ayr into the geopolitical center of the human kingdoms. As the Sasan Empire expanded eastward, advancing north of Giantstone Fortress, it would be able to rendezvous with the pioneers of the Kingdom of Naville. Then, the lords of the northern empire could use the Kingdom of Naville as a central corridor, heading south to the shores of Lake Fies in the Randt Imperial territory, where they could take a boat across the river to reach the Southern Continent. By the same token, the lords of the southern empire could also use the central corridor of the Kingdom of Naville to enter the Pioneer Fiefs of the Northern Wildlands.

The Kingdom of Naville and the Randt Imperial territory were right next to the Theocracy of Ayr. By serving as the central corridor for the human kingdoms, they would establish the core geopolitical position of the Theocracy of Ayr. Resources from the north and south would conveniently converge in the Theocracy.

If not for the Radiant Code expressly forbidding clergy from directly ruling secular kingdoms, the Holy See’s Curia, the Radiant Knights, and the Monastery Council of Elders would be more than happy to build a port on the shores of Lake Fies in Eyer. But since a port in Eyer could only belong to His Majesty King Nachtigal, the Church building a port there would indirectly expand the secular influence of the papal line.

The Church’s core geopolitical strategy, by capturing the flow of supplies, population, and trade between the north and south of the human kingdoms, fundamentally weakened the influence of the Gambis Kingdom and the Baselius duchy.

And who was to blame but their own poor geopolitical locations?

Assuming the Shadow Priests could secure a place for themselves within the Church, it would be in the fundamental interest of all three parties for them to align with Gambis and Baselius, providing each other with mutual support.

In other words, if the Shadow Priests wanted to act as representatives for the two great northern and southern empires within the Church, they also needed the full support of those two human empires.

Duke Uther’s brow furrowed, and he muttered almost to himself, “So, it’s not that they can’t contact cousin Victor, but that they are deliberately going through our channels to hold a secret meeting with Gambis. A shared secret can help our three parties find a tacit understanding for cooperation.”

“Not three parties, four. Don’t forget the Dodor Kingdom also lacks the support of divine arts, and the Radiant Knights and Frederick have always used them as a target. If the Shadow Priests become an independent branch of the Church, training large numbers of Bloodguard and Shadow Warriors, they could, to some extent, replace the Temple Army and help Iron Mountain, Gambis, and Dodor create a breakthrough.” Auroxia analyzed calmly.

Uther’s brows knitted tightly as he asked himself, “The ‘Prisoner’ said the Shadow Priests need the supervision of clergy… Supervision means pledging allegiance. Which faction in the Church are the Shadow Priests preparing to pledge allegiance to?”

“The Shadow Priests are certainly political enemies of the Radiant Knights. Which faction within the Church can withstand the pressure from the Radiant Knights and protect the Shadow Priests?”

“The Curia? Flidis holds a third of the seats in the Curia. The two Patriarchs struggle to even stand against the Radiant Knights when they band together, not to mention they’re at each other’s throats fighting for the papacy.”

“The Monastery Council of Elders? Those old fellows used to have some prestige, they managed to pry the Radiant Knights away from the papacy. But now? The more than one hundred monastery Elders do nothing but argue all day, even more than the House of Nobles. They drag each other down, accomplishing nothing. If they pledge themselves to the Monastery Council of Elders, what can they do for us? The Bloodguard and Shadow Warriors they train would probably end up like the priests trained by the monasteries, falling into the pockets of the Curia and the Radiant Knights in the end.”

“Ha, surely they don’t plan to seek refuge with the Lightguard?” Uther sneered. “If the Shadow Priests choose to pledge allegiance to Nachtigal, then all the clergy and secular lords will band together to strike them down. They’d be wiped out in an instant.”

Auroxia smiled faintly. “If the Shadow Priests aren’t fools, they should seek shelter under the Monastery Council of Elders and accept the leadership of the Inquisition, indirectly swearing fealty to each successive Pope. The prerequisite is… to take down Inquisitor-General Trigovar. I would be delighted to see Trigovar meet with disaster, but we cannot participate in the Shadow Priests’ plan. Only after they have brought down Trigovar will they have the right to cooperate with us. I imagine the Gold-Eyed Earl will also choose to stand by and do nothing, placing his bet only at the very end.”

Uther crossed his arms, stroking his chin. He said with a smile, “In that case, we don’t need to give cousin Victor a heads-up… We’ll just wait for the moment the truth will be revealed.”

“I must be heading back now. I’ll come again the day after tomorrow.” Auroxia glanced at the Duke and nodded. “I have a few thoughts… First, the ‘Prisoner’ is well-versed in theology and his speech is pedantic; he must have lived in a monastery since childhood. Second, he doesn’t understand the style of the great nobles, yet his proposals for cooperation show a fair bit of political insight… The ‘Prisoner’s’ words and actions are completely at odds with his political knowledge. I deduce he is not the true leader of the Shadow Priests. There must be another figure behind them, someone the Inquisition does not know about…”

“They must be clergy, which is how they’ve managed to elude the eyes and ears of the Inquisition; their status within the Church must not be high, which is why they want to support the Shadow Priests; they are most likely hidden within the monasteries, where they have access to information about current affairs, but do not understand the ways of the great nobles… They are not the ascetics of the monasteries, they are the scholar-priests.”

“They? You mean… a legacy?”

“Correct.” Auroxia nodded, a smile of absolute confidence playing on her lips.

“Mobilize our people within the Church. Find them before the Gold-Eyed Earl does.”

Chapter 620: The Charm of a Gold Knight

Two days later, at the crack of dawn, Patriarch Flidis, Crown Prince Siegfried, and Duchess Aurorsia Baselius gathered at the East Gate of Duncan Fortress, joining Duke Utheryn Baselius to welcome the vanguard of the Kingdom of Gambis.

Siegfried Friedrich wore a carefully selected suit of ceremonial armor and a purple-gold helmet that proclaimed his status. A blood-red cape made from the hide of a Bear-monster hung from his back like a banner soaked in fresh blood. It toned down the opulence of the ceremonial armor and lent it a weighty dignity, bestowing upon the Crown Prince of the Sasan Empire an air of extraordinary martial prowess.

The ceremonial armor was designed for splendor and beauty, inscribed with the Frederick family’s blood wolf sigil and adorned with rubies. It looked magnificent, but its intricate structure was ill-suited for combat. Especially in the second month of the Season of Fire, wearing the ceremonial armor was heavy, hot, and extremely uncomfortable. However, as a senior knight, Siegfried was not overly troubled by wearing the ceremonial armor and Bear-monster cape; in fact, he was rather pleased with his choice.

To receive Princess Auguste and the Gold-Eyed Earl, who had traveled a thousand miles to offer aid, the first heir of the Frederick family was naturally determined to express the full sincerity of the Sasan Imperial Family. During wartime, grand welcome ceremonies and magnificent court balls were all dispensed with. To demonstrate the importance the Frederick imperial family placed on Her Highness Princess Roland Auguste, Siegfried had chosen a suit of his favorite court ceremonial armor. This, however, had drawn a torrent of complaints from the Palace Steward, who claimed he was damaging the dignity of the Sasan Imperial Family. This was because ceremonial armor symbolized the virtues of patience, humility, and protection—attire meant for a subordinate. The Crown Prince was only supposed to wear ceremonial armor on specific occasions, such as guarding the ancestral tombs or receiving the Blessing of Holy Light from an Archbishop.

The Palace Steward Josen’s exact words were: “Her Highness Roland Auguste is neither a spiritual symbol of the Frederick ancestor nor a servant representing the Lord of Radiance. If you greet her in ceremonial armor, people might think the first heir of Emperor Friedrich is her Protection Knight.”

What does Josen know? Princess Roland dislikes stuffy formalities and loves novelty. The Baselius family’s armor craftsmanship is second to none in this era. If I didn’t wear ceremonial armor, how could I have any presence before the Baselius family’s Gold Knight? Besides, I am the Crown Prince of the Sasan Empire. If the two highnesses from Gambis were to mistake me for a Baselius retainer, that would be a true loss of dignity for the imperial family… Siegfried’s eyes swept over the battle armor worn by the two Baselius Dukes, and he felt a secret sense of satisfaction. Everyone else was in combat gear; his unique ceremonial armor made him stand out. He was confident that the soldiers of the Gambis vanguard would spot him, the first heir of the Frederick imperial family, at first glance.

Patriarch Flidis was quite satisfied with Siegfried’s attire. In a meeting between Gold Knights, there was no room for probing or maneuvering; major decisions could be settled in just a few words. In such a setting, even a Silver Knight had no right to speak. It would have been best if Siegfried hadn’t come, but since he was here, he couldn’t be ignored. The Crown Prince of the Sasan Empire wearing ceremonial armor to respectfully welcome the noble His Highness Randell, the Sun Elf, was ample proof of the Frederick family’s sincerity and humility.

The wind from afar carried the low roars of six-legged Swift Dragons, immediately alerting the Horned Wolves and gryphons. The guards hastily soothed their restless war beasts, making hand signals to indicate friend, not foe. A moment later, the earth began to rumble, and the War Beast Knights of Gambis appeared on the horizon, cloaked in the golden dawn. There were over a hundred of them, including knights in Adamantine armor, apprentice knights in Adamantine scale armor, light cavalry in dark red leather armor, and elite soldiers in full chainmail. They rode menacing six-legged beasts, magnificent large land-bound birds of prey, horned riding wolves, or sturdy warhorses. The only thing they had in common was the grim, triumphant aura of a great victory.

Flidis nodded to himself and said with a smile, “The six-legged Swift Dragons of Gambis are the largest and most powerful aberrant war beasts in the human kingdoms.”

“They’re also the ugliest and eat the most… I really don’t know how the Kingdom of Gambis can afford to raise over a thousand Swift Dragons.”

The Legendary battle priest, Kent, chimed in with a laugh, “When I was stationed at Raven Town in the Centaur Hills, I witnessed the prowess of the Swiftbird light cavalry. Although these large land-bound birds of prey have shortcomings like low carrying capacity and poor stamina, they have focused, sharp eyes, and keen hearing and smell. Their necks can rotate flexibly, making it easy to observe their surroundings, and they are natural cooperative hunters. Their charge is astonishingly fast, and they excel at clearing obstacles and making sharp turns while maintaining their balance and stability. The Swiftbird light cavalry is the only mounted archery unit capable of coordinating with War Beast Knights. I knew back then that the Swiftbird light cavalry, personally established by His Highness Randell, would one day shine on the battlefield.”

With the exception of Sus and the Kingdom of Borea, the other kingdoms and powers all had their own unique aberrant war beasts. The six-legged Swift Dragons of Gambis were nothing extraordinary in the eyes of the Empire’s dukes, but a Swiftbird light cavalry unit that could fight in concert with aberrant war beasts was a rarity. Aberrant war beasts were inherently ferocious and bloodthirsty, naturally intimidating to herbivores like warhorses. The gory scenes of them tearing enemies apart would often spook warhorses, making it impossible for ordinary cavalry to support war beasts in battle. But the Swiftbirds were predatory land-fowl; the flesh and blood of prey only stimulated their ferocity, making them even more aggressive.

The emergence of the Swiftbird light cavalry filled the tactical void left by the War Beast Knights’ lack of supporting troops, naturally piquing everyone’s interest.

Utheryn was greatly intrigued and asked, “Your Excellency Kent, you are acquainted with His Highness Randell, and you were the one who facilitated the Temple Army’s purchase of Vine-hide armor from the Centaur Hills. Does the Centaur Hills have any intention of selling Swiftbirds to outside parties?”

Priest Kent laughed, speaking with considerable pride, “I’ve discussed this with the Gold-Eyed Earl. He is indeed willing to sell Swiftbirds, but the price is not cheap… His Highness Randell has spent a fortune cultivating the Swiftbirds and expanding their population, a cost that has strained even the finances of the Centaur Hills. After all, Swiftbirds have males and females, and the females are generally not used as war-fowl, yet they eat about as much as the males. Raising one Swiftbird war-fowl is equivalent to raising two Swiftbirds. His Highness Randell hopes to sell breeding pairs to earn a profit and expand the scale of his Swiftbird light cavalry. The Kingdom of Naville has ordered fifty pairs from the Centaur Hills for four hundred thousand Gold Sols, and that’s a discounted price His Highness Randell offered for Lady Dori’s sake.”

Siegfried couldn’t help but gasp at the news. “Four hundred thousand Gold Sols for fifty pairs of Swiftbirds? Isn’t that too expensive?”

But Kent shook his head repeatedly. “It’s not cheap, but it’s not expensive either… If the Sasan Empire wanted to buy fifty pairs of Swiftbirds, the Gold-Eyed Earl wouldn’t even consider it for less than one million eight hundred thousand Gold Sols.”

The specially bred aberrant war beasts of the major powers were divided into males, females, and sterile war beasts. The males and females were responsible for procreation and were under the strictest protection, absolutely not for sale. The sterile war beasts were treated less stringently; they could be granted as combat partners to retired and ennobled War Beast Knights, or given as gifts to nobles. Other powers could never obtain breeding pairs. Even if they did, the religious inquisition would, in accordance with the War Beast Pact established by the major powers, retrieve any war beast lost by a great lord and severely punish the thief to prevent conflict. The Swiftbirds of the Centaur Hills were similarly protected by the War Beast Pact, but like the Moon Bear war beasts of the Teutonic Duchy, they were all fertile. Fifty pairs of Swiftbirds would be enough to propagate several new flocks.

As Siegfried was contemplating the pros and cons of purchasing the Swiftbirds, Duchess Aurorsia Baselius spoke in a soft voice, “If His Highness Friedrich has no intention of purchasing Swiftbirds from the Centaur Hills, then we of the Baselius family are willing to fund the purchase. I would ask for Your Excellency Kent’s assistance in pleading our case to His Highness Randell. I may need to raise the funds, so it would be best if we could pay in installments.”

“Well…” Kent glanced at Patriarch Flidis, then at the still-dazed Crown Prince.

Siegfried came to his senses, but two million Gold Sols was no small sum. Even as the heir of the Frederick family, he had no authority to decide on such a massive deal.

Just as he was hesitating, Aurorsia suddenly looked towards the Gambis vanguard and said with a smile, “Princess Auguste is coming ahead.”

Siegfried immediately turned his head. He saw a slender figure riding a golden Leonine unicorn dash out from the ranks, galloping towards Duncan Fortress. The unicorns bred by the Randt Empire were the fastest aberrant war beasts in a sprint. In the blink of an eye, the distance of two kilometers was closed, allowing Siegfried to see the female knight’s appearance clearly. She had picturesque features and was dazzlingly beautiful. Her emerald eyes were as clear and limpid as the purest gemstones. A platinum-blonde ponytail swayed in the wind as she rode her gleaming golden unicorn, arriving with the morning light. Her form-fitting women’s Mithril armor outlined her perfect curves, giving her a heroic air.

Most high-ranking female knights were reserved, proud, and restrained, never allowing men they disliked to entertain improper thoughts. A Gold-rank female knight as unrestrainedly spirited as Roland Auguste was truly one of a kind. Her pure, natural charm left Siegfried momentarily stunned, and a single thought surfaced in his mind:

She is a goddess of the dawn.

“No problem. His Highness Randell and I are old friends. I often drink and eat with His Excellency, the barbarian Elder Harald. I will certainly help with the matter of Your Highness Baselius purchasing the Swiftbirds,” Priest Kent said from beside the Crown Prince.

“Many thanks, Your Excellency Kent.” A gentle smile appeared on Aurorsia’s face as she bowed in respect to the Legendary battle priest.

Patriarch Flidis’s expression remained placid, but inwardly he cursed: Shameless.

The Centaur Hills selling Swiftbirds was just like them selling Iron bricks and giant brick kilns; what they were actually selling was a right. The Moon Bear family paid two million four hundred thousand Gold Sols to the Centaur Hills for the iron brick preparation technology, only to turn around and sell the entire technology set to lords within the Empire. Not only did they not spend any money, but they even turned a profit of tens of thousands of Gold Sols, obtained the technology for iron bricks and giant brick kilns, and strengthened the ties between the Teutonic Duchy and the lords of the central Sasan Empire. This was all due to the distribution rights proposed by the Gold-Eyed Earl: the iron brick technology would be sold to only one family per kingdom, and that buyer would decide whether to transfer it to other lords within their nation.

The Baselius family had missed out on the iron bricks; they would not miss out on the Swiftbird light cavalry. The purchasing cost of one million eight hundred thousand Gold Sols could be spread among the various great and minor lords of the Sasan Empire, meaning the funds expended by the Baselius family would actually be quite limited. Those families who wished to cultivate their own Swiftbird light cavalry would have to curry favor with the Baselius Dukes, which would in turn invisibly increase the prestige and influence of the Ironmount Royal Family.

Siegfried was no fool; he would have quickly figured out the stakes. But his competitor was Duchess Aurorsia Baselius.

The spiritual power of a Gold Knight had subtly influenced Siegfried, making him realize he lacked the authority to mobilize a fund of millions of Gold Sols. And before Aurorsia had even spoken, she had remotely perceived Princess Auguste’s movements. Her next words then successfully shifted Siegfried’s attention to Roland. Flidis and Kent, as Legendary-rank priests, were unaffected by Aurorsia’s spiritual influence, but they lacked a Gold Knight’s mastery over the flow of events and their extraordinary charisma. By the time they realized what had happened, it was already too late.

This was why Gold Knights rarely ruled directly. Scholar-nobles were so enthralled by their extraordinary charisma that their considerable intelligence could not be brought to bear. Yet, the considerations of a hundred scholar-nobles would always be more thorough and meticulous than those of a single Gold Knight.

A Gold Knight could not be slighted. Since the Sasan Imperial Family had relinquished the right to purchase the Swiftbirds, Priest Kent had no choice but to agree to Aurorsia’s request.

Flidis did not blame the Crown Prince, nor did he blame Priest Kent. He himself had been bested by Aurorsia, so what hope did a Bronze-rank senior knight like Siegfried have? As for Priest Kent, he came from a common vassal family in the Teutonic Duchy, not a Knight-Noble. Among Legendary Priests, he was known for being a big-mouthed braggart. Since they were both Legendary Priests, Kent had no need to defer to him.

If there was anyone to blame, it was Aurorsia, for bullying the junior and preying on the weak, completely disregarding the dignity of a Gold Knight!

However, only the Gold-Eyed Earl could compel a Gold Knight to disregard their status and make a move on a mere senior knight.

Flidis had conducted an in-depth study of His Highness Victor W. Randell’s personality and his various deeds; the information he had collected filled two large chests. The more he studied, the more powerless he felt, because all of the Gold-Eyed Earl’s schemes were impossible to resist, yet no one could see through his grander strategy.

Take the matter of the Swiftbirds, for example. The Gold-Eyed Earl had proactively proposed to Bishop Pello of the Centaur Hills that once all the kingdoms had Swiftbirds, he would remove them from the war beast category. This meant the Church could then collect Swiftbirds from the lords as part of their tithe. It was important to note that war beasts were exempt from the tithe. If the Church wanted to levy aberrant war beasts from the lords, they would have to offer up their own Horned Wolf war beasts first. Back then, the Teutonic Duchy had adamantly refused to have their Moon Bears classified as common beasts. In order to win over the Moon Bear family, the Radiant Knights had offered a series of generous terms, which included listing the Moon Bear in the War Beast Pact. Only then did the Teutonic Duchy join the Sasan Empire. The Centaur Hills classifying the Swiftbirds as war beasts had also been Sylvia’s will. And now, the Gold-Eyed Earl was casually giving up the monopoly on Swiftbird light cavalry granted by the War Beast Pact. Flidis still had to support the Baselius family’s purchase of the Swiftbirds because it perfectly aligned with the Church’s interests, as well as the interests of the secular lords. The only problem was, Flidis completely failed to understand Victor’s intentions.

The Gold-Eyed Earl never ordered anyone around, yet everyone couldn’t help but follow in his footsteps. This left Flidis deeply perplexed and, because of it, uneasy.

Emperor Friedrich had told Flidis that the royal family had spent one million Gold Sols to purchase the iron brick technology and giant brick kiln designs from the Teutonic Duchy, leaving the imperial treasury strained. If the Baselius family now used the Swiftbird light cavalry to take another slice from Friedrich’s coffers, the royal family’s dire financial situation would only worsen.

In truth, the Friedrich imperial family supported eighty thousand elite cavalry and had conscripted eighty thousand militia and one hundred thousand able-bodied laborers. After this war, it was questionable whether the royal treasury would even have enough money to pay compensation and rewards. The other families were not faring any better. The crises of war and finance followed each other like shadows, affecting all the human kingdoms… except the Centaur Hills. It seemed all the great lords’ gold was flowing into Sylvia’s and Victor’s pockets.

Raw sugar, Purple Cane wine, iron bricks, Swiftbirds—which of these didn’t belong to the Gold-Eyed Earl? What did Victor want with so much gold? Could it be that he wanted to become a moneylender and collect interest? Was the Gold-Eyed Earl really that simple? We could send more refugees to the Centaur Hills, and if the price of green wheat rises again, we’ll get the money back, won’t we? If that doesn’t work, at the Sol Alliance Meeting in four years, we can always just mint more Gold and Silver Sols…

As Patriarch Flidis mulled over the problem, Princess Roland had already reached their party. She leaped off her unicorn and approached the group with light, graceful steps.

Siegfried took off his purple-gold helmet, stepped forward, and with a warm smile on his handsome face, took the initiative to perform the most elegant of salutes.

“…Wow, what beautiful armor.” With a gust of wind, Roland swept past the Crown Prince, who was saluting with a hand over his chest. She went straight to Aurorsia, her eyes shining as she said excitedly, “You must be Victor’s Baselius cousin, Aurorsia… Wow, your armor is as beautiful as you are.”

Siegfried froze for a slight second, then lowered his saluting right hand. With a smile still on his face, he watched Roland Auguste’s back and thought:

Truly a spontaneous and charming princess.

Chapter 621: War and Currency

As the vanguard of the Gambis army approached the East Gate of Duncan Fortress, a wave of gasps rippled through the onlookers. The Sacred Warriors of the Church and the knights of Baselius saw the Ogre heads impaled on the cavalry’s upright lances. They counted them several times, confirming that the Gambis vanguard had taken a total of forty-one Ogre heads. They had been crudely preserved, their surfaces shrunken and wrinkled, making them look even more ferocious and disgusting, and they emanated a foul odor. The defenders of Duncan Fortress, however, stared without blinking, their eyes filled with envy and respect.

Ogres had always been among the most feared monsters. They were elusive, their tracks found all over the world, sometimes even appearing in the heartlands of human kingdoms. Even a single wandering Ogre could leave a rural lord helpless, forced to request aid from the Church or their liege lord. Slaying an Ogre was enough to demonstrate a knight’s courage and wisdom, to be sung about by bards far and wide. Every knight and their vassal soldiers considered the title of “Ogre Slayer” a great honor.

The vanguard cavalry halted at the gates of Duncan Fortress, each rider sitting ramrod straight, basking in the crowd’s attention.

Victor leaped down from his Swiftbird’s back and walked straight toward the two Legendary Priests, saluting each in turn. “Your Excellency, the Patriarch, good morning. Your Excellency Kent, good morning.”

“May the supreme Lord of Radiance protect you, esteemed Your Highness Randell,” Flidis and Priest Kent intoned solemnly, tracing a holy symbol over their chests.

Victor stepped forward and embraced Kent, speaking warmly, “Priest, I’m delighted to fight alongside you on the Sasan Empire’s eastern defensive line.”

“Haha, this is the will of the Supreme Lord, and my honor as well.”

The Legendary battle priest clapped Victor on his Dragon-Lizard pauldrons and teased him enthusiastically, “You rascal. A few years ago, you got all battered just killing a Gold-rank Gnoll, even ruining your Double-headed Dragon-Lizard leather armor. Now you can take an Ogre Warlord’s head with ease, and your armor is safe and sound. You’ve really come a long way.”

Priest Kent hailed from the cold, harsh northern tundra and possessed the courage and cooperative spirit of its people. Despite being of high rank and authority, he disliked putting on airs. During his post at Raven Town, he had mingled with the townspeople, personally leading two thousand Sacred Warriors to till fields, build roads, dig a reservoir, and construct city walls with Thorium ore for Victor, all free of charge. Priest Kent’s contributions to Raven Town’s rapid transformation were immense, naturally earning him Victor’s goodwill.

Encountering an old acquaintance in the distant Sasan Empire, and a Legendary-rank battle priest and high-ranking member of the Temple Army at that, made Victor feel a sense of warmth. He grinned. “If my leather armor had been broken by the Ogre Warlord, I’d be a pile of minced meat by now.”

“True enough. Thankfully, the Supreme Lord watches over you… Praise our Lord.”

Priest Kent nodded, then his expression shifted to a smile. “Didn’t you say you were planning to sell Swiftbird war-fowl? You even asked me if the Temple Army wanted any? You quoted a price of five million Gold Sols. How could the Temple Army possibly afford that? Well, I’ve found a good customer for you. For my sake, you have to give him a cheaper price.”

“…Come.” He took Victor’s arm, led him before Duke Baselius, and said, “Let me introduce you. This is the blood-kin of Empress Baselius and Sword Saint Draven, Duke Utheryn Baselius… Come to think of it, you two are cousins, it seems. His Highness Baselius is very interested in Swiftbird light cavalry.”

“Utheryn Baselius greets you, esteemed Your Highness Randell. Your nobility is like the sun in the heavens.” Duke Baselius stepped forward and performed a solemn, ancient knight’s salute, using the Iron Mountain Empire’s royal honorific for Sun Elves.

He was handsome with a gentle and refined temperament, his short hair gold, his forehead broad, and his nose high-bridged. His deep eyes were like the azure sea, shimmering with an amber halo that gave him an air of extraordinary nobility.

A Gold Knight’s charm was an external manifestation of their inner self. Their personality, temperament, and appearance combined perfectly, leaving a powerful first impression that highlighted their willpower. The Utheryn Baselius that Victor saw was gentle, humble, calm, and composed. Behind this facade was a spirit vast enough to embrace all talents, inspiring goodwill at first sight—a complete contrast to the rumored, beleaguered Emperor of the Iron Mountain Empire.

Victor gracefully returned the salute, smiling as he said, “Sylvia once told me that Duke Baselius has a regal bearing that is truly captivating, that you are the first among Gold Knights. I completely agree with Sylvia’s assessment.”

Utheryn laughed, not bothering to hide his pride. “Years ago, at Whitewater Fortress, I dueled the Queen of Roses. I gave my all to withstand forty-three of her spear thrusts, only to be defeated by the forty-fourth. I have always considered it the honor of a lifetime.”

“If you were to duel with my cousin Victor, I’m afraid you wouldn’t last even ten sword strokes.”

A female knight in dark gold armor approached, hand-in-hand with Roland. She had the same golden hair and blue eyes as Utheryn, an oval face with a touch of baby fat, large, clear eyes, a high-bridged nose that looked endearingly plump, and full lips. While her individual features might not have been perfect, together they created an impression of beauty so approachable and adorable it felt almost invincible.

However, her voice was as gentle and nourishing as a spring stream, seemingly able to flow straight into one’s heart, yet Victor could sense a subtle hint of a flirtatious charm within it.

Aside from Roland and Margaret, almost every high-ranking female knight Victor had met had revealed some degree of charm towards him. It was a natural expression of a high-ranking female knight’s favor, completely imperceptible to ordinary people. Sylvia’s charm towards him, in particular, was undetectable even to a Gold Knight standing right beside them. But this female knight’s charm was gentle, elegant, and seamless, combining with her incredibly cute appearance to form a unique allure. Victor even felt an impulse to take a bite out of her fair, full cheeks.

…Just like the little chubster Beldina?

With a turn of his thoughts, Victor shook off the female knight’s natural spiritual charm, inevitably recalling Sylvia’s assessment of this Highness.

Auroxia, Duchess of the Sasan Empire, Princess of the Iron Mountain Empire, Guardian of the Baselius family. She is not the strongest Gold Knight, because one of her feet is already in the legendary realm… Her gentleness and adorableness are so captivating that even I find her endearing. It’s a pity she never challenged me; no one else knows that Auroxia is the true powerhouse of the Baselius family… Also, when you meet Auroxia, do not give her any wrong ideas. Otherwise, I will be very, very angry.

“If it were a duel of swordsmanship, Duke Baselius could beat Victor. But if it were a proper duel to the death, His Highness the Duke probably couldn’t even take one of Victor’s sword strikes.” Roland sighed, shaking her head. “This guy is so strong now that even I, his tutor, am intimidated.”

Victor chuckled inwardly. Roland could perceive Auroxia’s charm directed at him. The princess of the Auguste family was hardly inferior to the princess of the Iron Mountain Empire.

Utheryn was not offended in the slightest. He shook his head and smiled. “Your Highness the Princess is too kind. I have no confidence in competing with my cousin Victor.”

Auroxia pursed her lips in a smile, two cute dimples appearing on her oval face. She gave Victor a Knight’s salute, her voice soft. “I am Auroxia of the Baselius family. It is an honor for Baselius to witness the splendor of the Gold-Eyed Earl. I must also thank Your Highness Randell for coming to Andria’s aid, for taking a risk to slay the berserk Ogre Warlord.”

“It was what I ought to do, Cousin Auroxia,” Victor said with a nod, returning the salute.

The princess of the Iron Mountain Empire tilted her head, smiled sweetly, and said, “Please, call me Auroxia, Cousin Victor.”

“Victor, don’t you think sister Auroxia’s armor is gorgeous?” Roland asked, holding Auroxia’s arm, eager for Victor’s approval.

The armor-crafting of the Baselius family was unrivaled in the modern era. Auroxia wore a suit of dark gold combat armor. Unlike traditional Mithril armor, it was assembled from individual components: pauldrons, cuirass, vambraces, faulds, tassets, greaves, and war boots. Every piece was exquisitely beautiful. Mithril was perfectly fused with Adamantine, resulting in a noble yet understated dark gold sheen. Its scale-mail tassets and coif, in particular, were made using a unique metal-wire weaving technique, giving them the appearance of fabric. The armor’s heavy sturdiness and the flowing softness of a skirt were perfectly blended, a masterwork of both practicality and beauty. Compared to it, Roland’s own Mithril armor looked positively drab.

Auroxia was already adorable, and wearing this unique suit of female Mithril armor made her even more so. No wonder Roland’s eyes were shining. She had rushed out from the ranks and was arm-in-arm with the princess of the Iron Mountain Empire in the blink of an eye.

Why was it called the Iron Mountain Empire?

It was said that the Baselius family’s armor-crafting techniques were passed down from the Era of the Chosen, and that the Baselius ancestor had once been a master blacksmith in a great City-state.

Auroxia’s armor was stunning, but Victor’s thoughts had already turned elsewhere.

The Baselius family’s resources and heritage ran deep. They possessed the Gold Bloodline of Spirit Knights, Utheryn and Auroxia were nearing the legendary realm, and four other Gold Knights served Baselius as their liege lord. Their duchy was larger than the Gambis Kingdom, with nearly 1.9 million registered subjects—almost twice that of Gambis.

The Iron Mountain Empire had never truly fallen. The Baselius family was rolling in money!

Therefore, Victor decided he would extort a hefty sum from his cousins, Utheryn and Auroxia. He smiled and offered a compliment, “The armor of Baselius truly lives up to its name. It is absolutely splendid. But as beautiful as the armor is, it cannot conceal the splendor of Your Highnesses.”

“Hmph.” Roland shot Victor a dissatisfied glare. That wasn’t the answer she wanted. She had been hoping that the Gold-Eyed Earl’s influence could help her wheedle a similar suit of armor from Auroxia.

The princess’s eyes darted about. She reached into her pocket, silently uncorked a vial of Blue Taro potion, and quickly sealed it again. Then, still holding Auroxia’s arm, she raised an eyebrow, covered her mouth with a delicate hand, and leaned in to whisper in her ear, “I have something good to give you.”

Auroxia’s eyes sparkled. She twitched her nose, bit her lip, and giggled. “…Let’s go. We’ll head inside first, then I’ll look at your gift.”

The two Gold-rank female knights walked into Duncan Fortress arm-in-arm, oblivious to everyone else. Both Utheryn and Siegfried stared at Roland’s back. The difference was that Duke Baselius was gazing thoughtfully at Roland’s pouch, while the Frederick Crown Prince was simply following Roland’s form and laughter with his eyes.

She didn’t even glance at you, and you don’t even know how to be angry… Victor’s gaze shifted to the Crown Prince in his ceremonial armor, and he found it amusing. In the Glory Knights, the number of young knights who admired Roland, including unmarried Great Knights, was at least two hundred. Now, Roland had another admirer: the Crown Prince of the Sasan Empire.

Sensing the Gold-Eyed Earl’s gaze, Zieg stepped forward and said respectfully, “Your Highness Randell, good morning. I am Siegfried Friedrich. On behalf of His Majesty Emperor Friedrich, I extend my sincerest greetings to Your Highness and thank you for all you have done for the Sasan Empire.”

The Sasan Crown Prince has deigned to wear ceremonial armor to vie with Gold Knights for my and Roland’s attention. His intentions and his magnanimity are both commendable. A pity that the Fredericks are poor devils… Victor returned the salute with a smiling nod, then turned his attention back to the “fat sheep” duke. “Cousin Utheryn,” he began, “are you interested in purchasing Swiftbird war-fowl?”

Utheryn suppressed the thumping in his heart caused by the Blue Taro potion and nodded. “Yes. Cousin Victor, feel free to state your terms. There’s no need to be polite.”

In that case, I really won’t be polite… Victor mulled it over for a moment, then looked up into Utheryn’s deep blue eyes and said sincerely, “I can provide one hundred fifty pairs of the finest Swiftbird war-fowl for a price of two million four hundred thousand Gold Sols.”

“…What?!”

Before Utheryn could respond, Priest Kent protested, yelling from the side, “You told me one million eight hundred thousand Gold Sols before, am I right?”

“You are,” Victor said, nodding at the exasperated Kent before turning back to the “fat sheep” duke. “If my cousin accepts this price, I guarantee that the cost for the three kingdoms of Dodor, Sus, and Borui to purchase fifty pairs of Swiftbirds will be no less than one million two hundred thousand Gold Sols… The two-point-four-million-Gold-Sol price for the Sasan Empire’s Swiftbirds is a discount I’m offering out of respect for Priest Kent.”

The Sasan Empire was three times the size of an ordinary kingdom. According to the distribution rights rules set by the Gold-Eyed Earl, if a kingdom’s purchase price for Swiftbirds was 1.2 million Gold Sols, then the Sasan Empire’s price should be 3.6 million. By purchasing 150 pairs, even if the Baselius family resold them at cost to the great lords of the central and eastern Empire, they would effectively only spend 800,000 Gold Sols, saving a full 400,000 compared to other kingdoms. As for the Dodor Kingdom’s price of 400,000 Gold Sols, that was because they bought the Swiftbirds before the Swiftbird light cavalry had been tested in real combat. Rex had gotten a huge bargain.

Utheryn said decisively, “Fine. Two point four million Gold Sols for one hundred fifty pairs of Swiftbirds. However, I’ll need time to raise such a large sum. It would be best if I could pay in installments.”

Victor nodded in agreement. “I’ll write to Sylvia at once and have her select one hundred fifty pairs of Swiftbirds and send them to the Baselius duchy. The payment can be made in installments over three years. However, I do not want Purple Gold Coins. I only want Gold Sols or Silver Sols.”

Now that the two Highnesses had reached a deal on the Swiftbirds, Priest Kent didn’t care how much Baselius had to pay. In any case, with the Sasan Empire, the Dodor Kingdom, and the Gambis Kingdom developing Swiftbird light cavalry, other kingdoms would follow suit. Once all the kingdoms had Swiftbirds, the Church could collect its tithe on them. Kent was merely curious why Victor refused Purple Gold Coins. Being an impetuous man, he immediately pressed the issue.

“Victor, what are you going to do with so much gold and silver coin? Two point four million Gold Sols’ worth of gold and silver coins would take over a hundred carts to transport… You’d need to prepare a castle just to store all that money.”

A good question!

Patriarch Flidis wanted to praise the loud-mouthed Kent. He stared at Victor, leaving him no room to evade. Duke Baselius and Crown Prince Siegfried also looked at Victor, their expressions conveying that they were awaiting an answer and would not be fobbed off.

Why only accept gold and silver coins? The question cut to the heart of the matter. Victor had no intention of telling them the truth:

I’m going to take the lords’ gold and silver to create a currency shortage. Only then can I fleece you all.

Politics, war, and economics were inextricably linked. Even a war against the beastmen was a contest of economics. Given the current level of civilization, economic scale, and political organization of the human kingdoms, they had a much higher tolerance for error and a stronger ability to regenerate resources compared to the barbaric and ignorant beastmen. As long as the military leaders made no major strategic blunders, the human kingdoms were destined to win this all-out war.

After the war would come political restructuring and economic reconstruction. There was a vast space for profit here, one that Victor could exploit by laying the groundwork in advance.

Victor had several reasons for wanting to sell the Swiftbirds.

First, it was nearly impossible for the Centaur Hills to monopolize a powerful unit like the Swiftbird light cavalry. Unlike the Teutonic Duchy’s Moon Bears, Swiftbirds were fundamentally different. They were ordinary large land-bound birds of prey and wouldn’t enter a Savage state just by eating the flesh of savage creatures. In other words, there was nothing unique about Swiftbirds. If the major powers were to steal the eggs, hatch them, and then release the birds into the wilderness for their hunters to capture, they could claim them as wild Swiftbirds and their own property. That would lead to an endless and unwinnable legal battle. The rules of the game among lords were: don’t steal what you can buy; only steal what you can’t. Rather than have the various families come to the Centaur Hills to steal Swiftbird eggs, Victor would rather sell the birds openly.

Second, Imoson the Wizard was currently breeding the third generation of Swiftbirds. By selling the second generation, Victor could gain more funds to develop his third-generation Swiftbird cavalry. This meant Victor would be using others’ money to upgrade his own Swiftbird light cavalry. Meanwhile, the other families, having acquired second-generation Swiftbird light cavalry, would have their resources and vigor tied up, which would in turn reduce their desire to develop a third generation. In his past life on Earth, certain technological superpowers had mastered this move and used it to great effect time and time again.

Third, selling the Swiftbirds was part of The Golden Company’s financial strategy.

Currency was the general equivalent of wealth, but once a Gold Sol was detached from the support of commodities, it was just a piece of metal with limited use. That was why the kingdoms and the Church mainly collected taxes in kind from the lords; only if a lord couldn’t provide the goods would they have to compensate with double the amount in gold coins. But for individuals, holding heavy gold coins in their hands brought a sense of security.

After the war, the lords would need to rebuild their domains. They would need money to hire able-bodied laborers, money to form mercenary legions, money to settle refugees and tenant households, and even more money for compensating and rewarding soldiers.

In truth, the kings’ treasuries held little currency. Take the royal family of the Sasan Empire, for example. The Frederick family maintained an elite cavalry of eighty thousand and had built the sturdy eastern defensive line. They paid out countless coins every year. Victor knew very well how many gold, silver, and copper coins it took to maintain an army. Every king was a poor devil; there was no doubt about it.

The Sasan Royal Family, guarding the Empire’s eastern territories and fending off beastmen invaders, was definitely short on cash. The Paladin families were broke too—if they had money, why would they have怂恿 instigated the Sasan lords to start the Green Wheat War? It was all to open up the grain market of the three southern kingdoms and sell their green wheat at a high price. But the Baselius family was rich. Their army was the smallest, and they were far from the Empire’s eastern front. Their three-thousand-year accumulation of wealth was not to be underestimated. If the Sasan Emperor brazenly went to Baselius to borrow money to pay compensation and rewards to his soldiers and military pay to the mercenary legions, it would be troublesome.

Therefore, Victor had to empty the coffers of both Baselius and the Sasan lords. And, of course, the great lords of the other kingdoms as well. After a few rounds of distribution rights for raw sugar, Iron bricks, Swiftbirds, and rock bricks, the lords would find their treasuries empty of currency. They might even have to melt down their gold and silver plates to mint coins.

A currency shortage meant it was time to mint coins.

Without any push from Victor, the royal families of the various kingdoms would soon unite to pressure the Church, demanding a renegotiation of the Sol Agreement to gain free minting rights.

However, this would take time.

Gold and silver could serve as currency because they were rare. Gold coins didn’t just fall from the sky. It would take time for the lords to mine gold and silver and then mint currency, and it wouldn’t be enough to fill the domestic currency gap right away. During this period, the currency reserves of the Centaur Hills could truly wield immense power in the market. The profits involved went without saying. In short, by holding the currency that everyone desperately needed, Victor would possess an unchallengeable initiative, allowing him to establish the most authoritative financial credit. For instance, the Purple Gold Coins he issued could be redeemed for their full value in a timely manner, which would allow them to circulate throughout the human kingdoms.

Once everyone accepted the Purple Gold Coins issued by the Centaur Hills, who could possibly shake the financial credit system single-handedly created by the Gold-Eyed Earl?

It wouldn’t matter even when the great lords finally minted enough gold and silver coins to escape the currency shortage. By then, Victor would peg the Gambis Empire’s gold coins to raw sugar. Anyone who wanted to buy or sell raw sugar would first have to exchange their currency for Gambis gold coins.

Raw sugar was a wonderful thing. It could rapidly replenish the stamina of both humans and livestock. For example, herbivorous warhorses had great strength, but their energy intake was too inefficient. They had to stop and graze for half a day after a short run, or they would be worked to death. Victor’s raw sugar was originally intended for human consumption, but the lords discovered that by mixing raw sugar with feed for their warhorses, their cavalry’s daily forced march distance increased from 150 kilometers to 290 kilometers. This advantage in mobility was astounding. Victor himself had not expected raw sugar to become a strategic resource. The Swiftbird light cavalry of the various kingdoms would also need raw sugar to maintain peak combat stamina. The more Swiftbirds they raised, the greater their demand for raw sugar would be.

The Gambis Empire’s gold coins, tied to raw sugar, would be as solid as it gets.

Victor was best at shattering the status quo, rewriting the rules of the game, and pulling ahead through unconventional means. He had been planning this financial strategy for a long time. The lords had not been very interested in Swiftbirds before, and Victor had struggled to sell them. This sudden war had changed the market for Swiftbirds. If Victor didn’t take the opportunity to clean out the Sasan lords’ coffers, he would be doing himself a disservice.

This, perhaps, was what war profiteering was all about.

A knowing smile appeared on Victor’s face as he sighed. “A good question… I’m giving up my exclusive right to the Swiftbird light cavalry. Other than gold and silver coins, what else can I ask for? The Sasan Empire’s Purple Gold Coins aren’t easy to exchange in Gambis.”

“Let’s go inside and discuss the military affairs of the eastern defensive line.”

Patriarch Flidis nodded, ending the topic. It was best, of course, that they could buy the Swiftbirds with gold coins. As for the Gold-Eyed Earl’s deeper schemes, he couldn’t see them yet, but the transaction was ultimately within the rules of the game among lords and caused no harm to the Sasan Empire or the Radiant Knights.

The Patriarch suddenly turned his head and said to the Crown Prince, “Zieg, take the officers and soldiers of the Gambis vanguard to familiarize them with Duncan Fortress. You need not attend our meeting.”

Chapter 622: The Patriarch’s Arrangements

In the meeting room of Duncan Fortress, Victor, Uther, and Priest Kent sat around a circular table, listening to Patriarch Flidis’s report.

“Two days ago, the King of Dodor, His Majesty Friedrich, arrived at Bronze-Halberd City with forty-five thousand Dodor cavalry. An additional fifteen thousand infantry will enter Sasan territory within thirty days. From the Gambis Kingdom, Earl Folt Auguste has led two hundred fifty Swift Dragon Knights and twenty thousand Gambis cavalry into the Warton Great Plains. They are currently resting and reorganizing in Holy Light City on the Great Plains and will arrive at Duncan Fortress in twenty days.”

Patriarch Flidis looked at the Duke of Baselius and said, “The southern fortress of the eastern defensive line, Liedenburg, will be taken over by the reinforcements from the Dodor Kingdom. They will be responsible for guarding the 480-kilometer war zone of the southern section. The 280-kilometer war zone in the middle section of the eastern defensive line will be guarded by the Gambis reinforcements, who will take over Duncan Fortress… Uther, the 400-kilometer northern section of the defensive line and Marfa Fortress are left to you and Auroxia.”

Uther nodded and said solemnly, “House Baselius will not fail this mission. I have already ordered the Sasan cavalry to prepare to assemble and move north. Once I hand over command of Duncan Fortress to the Gambis vanguard, I will head to Marfa Fortress with Auroxia tonight to assume its defense.”

He turned his head and smiled at Victor. “Auroxia and I have been guarding Duncan Fortress and Marfa Fortress, respectively, for some time now. With forty thousand Sasan cavalry spread thinly across the 1000-kilometer-long eastern defensive line, there are vulnerabilities everywhere. The arrival of reinforcements from Gambis and the Dodor Kingdom to garrison Duncan and Liedenburg Fortresses is finally a great relief.”

Roland is the Supreme Commander of the Gambis reinforcements; she should be the one sitting here at this meeting, but she and Auroxia have vanished… Who knows where those two ran off to drink their potions… Victor complained internally, but his expression was serious as he said, “The Gambis reinforcements will certainly do their utmost.”

Seeing the Duke of Baselius cooperate with the handover of command for Duncan Fortress, Patriarch Flidis nodded in satisfaction and continued, “I have armed ninety thousand militia in the eastern Sasan Empire. Effective immediately, they will man the defensive fortifications along the eastern defensive line. This will allow your cavalry units to soon be available for mobile operations. Subsequently, another sixty thousand militia can be deployed to support and fill any gaps in the eastern defensive line.”

Uther and Victor glanced at each other, and Uther was the first to ask, “So… how will this garrison of one hundred fifty thousand be allocated?”

Victor was equally concerned about this, but since the garrison troops for the eastern defensive line were registered subjects of the Sasan Empire, he, as a Guardian of the Gambis Kingdom, was not in a suitable position to inquire about their affairs.

Patriarch Flidis stated firmly, “The northern Marfa Fortress, the central Duncan Fortress, and the southern Liedenburg Fortress will each receive fifty thousand garrison troops. They will fill every castle, barracks, and outpost in their respective war zones, ensuring all defensive works are fully manned, and they will hold their ground without retreating. I will replace whatever losses they suffer until the fortifications are reduced to rubble and can no longer be used… These garrison troops are all registered subjects of the eastern lords, answering the Call to Arms of the Friedrich Imperial Family to defend their homeland. You have no authority to mobilize the garrison militia defending the fortifications for external campaigns. I have prepared five thousand infantry militia for each fortress, who will be under your command… However, for these infantry militia, I can only provide reinforcements for each of you once, not to exceed two thousand five hundred men.”

Victor was rather satisfied with this arrangement. If it were him, he would never hand command of the House of Randell’s infantry over to knights from another kingdom.

Flidis’s gaze turned to Uther. “The Sasan Empire has five million six hundred thousand registered subjects, and nearly all adult males have undergone militia training,” he said in a low voice. “Once the one hundred fifty thousand militia from the eastern lords are gone, we will supplement them with militia from the central lords. When the central militia are gone, it will be the turn of the militia from the western part of the Empire. If the Baselius family conscripts militia now to defend the eastern defensive line, I guarantee I will arm thirty thousand men for you, with weapons and equipment for ten thousand of them matching the standard of the Sasan Empire’s infantry. All required supplies will be provided by the Sasan Imperial Family.”

The Sasan Empire had managed the Warton Great Plains for over two hundred years and had no shortage of good quality leather armor, warbows, and shields. What they lacked was military equipment made of metal. If the three great southern kingdoms and the two great kingdoms of Sus and Borui were to provide aid to the Sasan Empire in the form of iron spears, helmets, wooden-handled one-handed axes, and arrows, Flidis could arm a large contingent of infantry militia in no time. The standard equipment for Sasan infantry also included a steel-ring half-chainmail and a one-handed refined iron sword.

Uther replied without hesitation, “In that case, the remaining sixty thousand militia will be provided by the subjects of us western lords. However, I request that Your Excellency the Patriarch provide twenty thousand sets of infantry equipment.”

“…Twenty thousand sets.” A flicker of a bitter smile appeared on Flidis’s stern face. He shook his head and said, “I hope Your Highness can agree to the infantry equipment being delivered in batches… I guarantee the first batch will be no less than ten thousand sets.”

Uther smiled and nodded. “As you wish, esteemed Lord Flidis.”

Having reached a preliminary understanding with the Duke of Baselius, the Patriarch turned his gaze to Kent. “The eastern defensive line now has the Griffin Knights of Baselius, the Iron Wall Knights of Dodor, and the Glory Knights of Gambis. There are six Highnesses, sixty-four Great Knights, more than three hundred full knights, one hundred thousand mobile cavalry, and one hundred fifty thousand garrison soldiers. Our strength surpasses that of our peak, and with the well-established defensive fortifications and grain reserves of the eastern defensive line, we can hold out even if the King of Beastmen’s army attacks. I will be responsible for dispatching the clergy. Kent and Wallace will lead four hundred Horned Wolf warriors, three thousand five hundred Sacred Warriors, and eight thousand Sasan Guard Cavalry to eliminate the beastmen bandits that have infiltrated the eastern heartlands of the Empire. Afterward, they can provide support to the eastern defensive line at any time. Crown Prince Siegfried is conscripting two hundred thousand hired laborers for logistics and fortification repairs. These men have all received militia training; give them weapons, and they can supplement the garrison. In addition, I will send priests to the three great fortresses of the eastern defensive line. They will be responsible for coordinating the mobile cavalry, garrison troops, Sacred Warrior reinforcements, and logistics.”

“The Grand Commander of the Radiant Knights, His Highness Testier, has requested that the mobile cavalry of the eastern defensive line clear out the entrenched beastmen forces in the East Pioneer Fief and implement a scorched-earth policy before the end of the second month of the Season of Wind. We anticipate that the Sidon Centaur army can only hold out until the middle of the second month of the Season of Water. Regardless of whether they choose to retreat or attack, we must seize the tactical opportunity to annihilate them, lest these four hundred thousand Centaurs join forces with the King of Beastmen.”

Patriarch Flidis paused, looked Victor in the eye, and said frankly, “This is a total war for all the human kingdoms. Your Highness Randell, as one of the few legendary powerhouses in the human kingdoms, I must ask you to focus on the bigger picture. I sincerely hope that Your Highness can hunt and kill the beastmen powerhouses throughout the East Pioneer Fief.”

The old Patriarch’s tone was firm, without a hint of politeness, but Victor did not take offense. He smiled faintly and said, “Your Excellency the Patriarch, if you have any requests for me, please speak directly.”

Flidis secretly breathed a sigh of relief, a gratified smile appearing on his face. He nodded in acknowledgment and said, “We have already recaptured thirteen of the first batch of fortified villages in the Pioneer Fief near the eastern defensive line. Eight are still occupied by beastmen, and two of them are suspected to have Gold rank beastmen… In the northern section of the defensive line, a group of Bear-monsters has occupied White-Wood Village, led by a Gold rank Blood Bear Elder. Near Mushroom Town in the southern section, there is a band of mixed beastmen. Their leader might be a Gold rank Savage Gnoll… That cunning and cruel monster has killed at least three of our scout knights. It and its kin usually live in the mountain forests; the beastmen in Mushroom Town are mainly their vassals and slaves. Hunting a Gold rank Savage Gnoll is very time-consuming. I suggest Your Highness first hunt the Bear-monster Elder in the north and deal with the Gnoll in Mushroom Town last.”

Victor stroked his chin and asked leisurely, “Is Mushroom Town famous for its mushrooms? How do they taste?”

The old Patriarch was taken aback for a moment, then explained helplessly, “Mushroom Town doesn’t produce mushrooms. When the site was originally chosen, the pioneers discovered a ring of Blue Poison Mushrooms, which is how it got its name.”

Victor smacked his lips and shook his head. “So that’s how it is… In that case, I will follow Your Excellency the Patriarch’s arrangements. I’ll head north to White-Wood Village first to kill the Bear-monster Elder, then south to Mushroom Town to deal with the Gnoll chieftain. Any beastmen tribes I encounter along the way, I will kill their leaders. However, I’ll say this upfront: I will only eliminate the beastmen leaders. The remaining beastmen will be left to the mobile cavalry of the respective defense sectors to clear out.”

His Highness Randell likes delicious mushrooms?

This same thought popped into the minds of the two Legendary Priests and the Duke of Baselius. A glint of amber light flashed in the duke’s eyes. He recalled the enticing aroma that had drifted from the potion bottle when Princess Roland had stealthily uncorked it, and he smiled. “Thank you for your assistance, Cousin Victor. After you take the Bear-monster Elder’s head, I will prepare Silver-Patterned Mushrooms for you, a specialty from western Sasan. They’re a delicacy of the highest grade.”

Victor was stunned. He looked from side to side. “Did I say I like mushrooms?”

Priest Kent laughed heartily and nodded. “I only just found out myself. I never would have guessed… I thought you preferred meat.”

Flidis coughed lightly, steering the conversation back on track. “Your Highness Randell, I will assign you two level four battle priests, two Adjudicators, and ten mid-rank Sacred Warriors. Priest Kalomon will be the team leader. Not only is he a level four battle priest, but he is also a senior knight from the House of Relgarrel who can support Your Highness in battle. He carries a simple map of the East Pioneer Fief, which marks the entrenched beastmen forces discovered by our scouts. Kalomon will assist and guide Your Highness in killing the leaders of the entrenched beastmen. Of course, the decision is yours. They will obey your arrangements and will not cause any trouble.”

A level four priest could cast a Restoration spell twice a day, capable of reattaching a severed arm. Combined with a Regeneration Potion, it could even regrow a lost limb. With a level four priest accompanying him, Victor felt much more at ease. He traced a holy symbol over his chest with his finger and chanted, “Praise be to the Supreme Lord.”

Flidis gave a slight nod. He looked around, his expression serious as he said, “What’s important is unity. The mobile cavalry, in particular, need to watch over and help one another… If Your Highnesses have no other questions, then this meeting is concluded.”

Neither Victor nor Uther had any objections, and the two priests rose to leave. Just before walking out the door, Patriarch Flidis suddenly turned back and said to the duke, “Oh, right. I have already issued a Church edict requiring the southern diocese of Sasan to cooperate with the mercenary legion in the Centaur Hills to organize the local refugees for relocation to the southern kingdoms for shelter, via the pioneering outposts of the Dodor Kingdom on the outskirts of the Ghost Forest. I am informing Your Highness now… for the sake of the bigger picture.”

When the Church organized refugee migrations, lords had no right to interfere, but the Gambis Kingdom sending people into Baselius’s territory to move his populace was another matter entirely.

Patriarch Flidis only informed Uther as he was leaving, even telling him to consider the bigger picture. Victor, of course, couldn’t show any weakness by offering an explanation; he just stood there quietly.

The amber in the Duke of Baselius’s eyes flashed for a moment before calming. He said faintly, “I understand.”

Chapter 623: A Turn of Events

After the meeting concluded, Flidis did not linger. He left the fortress with Priest Kent, as many complicated matters awaited his attention back in the Sasan Empire.

Duke Baselius, however, took Victor on a tour of Duncan Fortress, giving him a detailed introduction to its fortifications, operational mechanisms, and construction history, while also sharing a few anecdotes about the Sword Saint Draven.

In truth, Victor was not a direct descendant of the Sword Saint Draven. His bloodline traced back to Draven’s era, but his ancestor was the Sword Saint’s distant paternal cousin, four generations removed. Only three branches of Draven’s bloodline remained: the Testier Paladin family, Duke Baselius, and the Duchess Auroxia. The descendants of the Sword Saint and his other four Gold Knight partners had all been integrated into these three bloodlines.

In fact, Victor’s family lineage was closer to that of the Gale Knight, Countess Andria Wimbledon—at the very least, they were both Wimbledons. It was, however, true that Victor and Uther shared a common ancestor. The two got along splendidly, and Victor found an opportunity to inquire about the mystery of Sword Saint Draven’s disappearance.

Uther stated with great certainty that the claim of Empress Baselius murdering her husband Draven before her own demise was a shameless rumor. A year after Verodica fell, Draven left a letter and departed alone for the Endless Forest in search of his elven kin.

The original letter is still preserved in the Baselius Treasury to this day, and the Testier family possesses its first copy. Uther mentioned that if Victor were to visit the Baselius duchy, he and the Guardian Auroxia would jointly retrieve the farewell letter, handwritten by the Sword Saint himself, for him to peruse.

Duke Baselius’s account was largely consistent with Victor’s own deductions. His Mind Bloodline secret art had already entered the realm of the soul, so he was almost certain that a knight’s bloodline was passed down through the soul—or rather, from the Creator’s original will, the Elemental Sea. Of course, all life in the physical world evolved from the Elemental Sea, including the Elves. This suggested that the elven royal family didn’t form marriage alliances with ancient knights for no reason. Beyond political and romantic factors, they most likely wanted to utilize the high-ranked knights’ affinity with the world’s origin to bear Sun Elves.

Sun Elves possessed an extremely high level of life, comparable to Spirit Knights; they were both higher beings close to the origin of the world. The difference was that Spirit Knights and Gold Knights felt the call of the Elemental Sea, while Sun Elves were summoned by the Elves’ pan-conscious deity. When Sword Saint Draven fully transformed into a Sun Elf, the will hidden deep within his soul’s bloodline compelled him to return to his people. The Spirit Knight Verodica had suppressed this will. When the Ironmountain Empress fell, Draven resolutely stepped into the Endless Forest. His desire to seek out his elven kin was like a fish returning to its spawning grounds—it had nothing to do with his upbringing but was purely a life instinct.

Victor had no way of knowing Draven’s final fate. He was only thankful that he himself had chosen a path of free will.

Around noon, Roland and Auroxia emerged from some hidden corner of the fortress. Uther met with the Family Guardian, and his attitude toward Victor grew even warmer. He took the initiative to say:

“Cousin Victor, more than half of the freemen from the eastern and central regions of the Sasan Empire have flocked to the western territories for refuge. The Church’s rough estimate is five million refugees. Including the local freemen population in the west, the total number of displaced people stranded in the western territories exceeds eight million. Although the Church is doing its utmost to provide relief aid, the governance systems of the western lords are already overwhelmed. The fact that the Gambis Kingdom is willing to accept some refugees for southern relocation is a great help to us.”

Uther’s face was ruddy, and the amber glow in his eyes had completely faded, shedding a hint of lofty indifference. His entire temperament and expression became more animated, closer to that of a senior knight.

Is this the effect of the Blue Taro potion? No wonder the ancient Alchemists classified Blue Taro as a top-tier precious resource… Victor secretly marveled at the potion’s miraculous effects, his expression remaining calm as he said, “The Gambis Kingdom’s territory is not even as large as the Sasan west. The number of refugees we can take in is also limited. We are merely opening a channel of refuge for the displaced, which should help stabilize morale.”

“Well said.”

Uther nodded with a smile. “The freemen are crammed into the west, terrified that the eastern defensive line will fall and they and their families will become rations for beastmen and monsters. Rumors are rampant in the refugee camps, and every day people flee to Bronze-Halberd City, attempting to enter the southern kingdoms through the trade routes of the Warton Great Plains. The western lords are trying their best to recruit tenant households from the refugee camps, hoping to placate them. Unfortunately, the number of displaced people is simply too large, and there are rumors that becoming a tenant means being sent to the front lines to fight the beastmen. As a result, very few are willing to be resettled. Bloody conflicts between refugees are constant, and local lords even have to send men to suppress riots in the camps. With the mercenary legion from Centaur Hills stepping in to open a refugee channel from the pioneering outpost in the Ghost Forest to the empire’s west, morale will be soothed, and the lords’ pressure will be greatly reduced.”

He changed the subject. “However, while I am the master of the empire’s west, I have four great marquess lords under me, as well as the vassals of my vassals. I don’t have the authority to issue direct orders to my vassals’ vassals, especially when it concerns relocating refugees who don’t belong to us… How about this: I will order my steward to cooperate with your cousin’s mercenary legion and resident priests to select people for relocation from several large refugee camps in my duchy’s capital. Let the other western lords send their refugees to my capital.”

An escape route was more than just a road; it also involved organization, logistics, security, and resettlement measures. But these were matters that did not require the personal attention of a Highness; they could be handled by their subordinates.

The symptoms of a Gold Knight after drinking a Blue Taro potion: excitement, elation, talkativeness, overflowing vigor, and a mentality that seemed to have reverted to a younger state.

Silently noting the effects of the Blue Taro potion, Victor spoke up, “Regarding the matter of organizing the refugees for southern relocation, my wife, Marchioness Sophia Wimbledon, will be in full charge.”

Uther paused for a moment, realizing he had lost his composure somewhat. He laughed heartily, “Good, then it’s settled.”

What have we settled?

Victor really wanted to roll his eyes.

By evening, Uther and Auroxia left Duncan Fortress with their Griffin cavalry, heading north toward Marfa Fortress. With that, the core fortress of the central war zone on the eastern defensive line officially changed hands.

Victor stood on the highest watchtower of Duncan Fortress, watching the two Highnesses of the Baselius family until their figures vanished over the horizon. Only then did he turn his head to survey the entirety of Duncan Fortress.

Duncan Fortress was built six hundred years ago, completed in twenty-two years (thirty-four Earth years). For centuries, the people of Sasan had constantly repaired it. The sturdy limestone wall had withstood the dual tests of war and time, and the magnificent fortress still stood tall upon the land, by the river, playing the role of a cornerstone to this day.

The limestone fortress stood sixty-five meters tall, with walls thirty-eight meters high. The twenty-six-foot-wide wall top could accommodate two carriages driving side-by-side. At each end of the wall was an auxiliary fort equipped with forty-four catapult platforms and one hundred fourteen rail-mounted ballistae. Outside the wall was a thirty-meter-wide moat. A gatehouse in the middle of the river had to lower a drawbridge for anyone to enter the main gate.

Victor estimated the area enclosed by the walls to be 15.6 square kilometers. It had irrigation channels and an artificial lake, wheat fields, vegetable plots, and herb gardens, as well as granaries, mills, and stables for livestock. This complete agricultural production system could supply the daily food needs of five thousand people. But the largest complex of buildings within the fortress consisted of material warehouses and freight yards, which together covered a massive six square kilometers, occupying almost half the area of Duncan Fortress.

Besides the farmland and storage, the fortress also housed over a hundred blacksmith shops, leather workshops, and apothecaries, as well as three Churches, numerous barracks, and even some shops, taverns, and inns.

Duncan Fortress had a permanent garrison of twelve thousand soldiers, eight thousand mobile cavalry, and three thousand craftsmen, whose families also lived there. During wartime, the families of the garrison would be evacuated, and the fortress could accommodate sixty thousand infantry and forty thousand cavalry at once. The materials stored in the freight yard were enough for an army of one hundred thousand to hold out for fourteen months.

A town in peacetime, a fortress in wartime. Its systems for agricultural production, military crafting, divine healing, defense, and offense were all complete. Victor did not believe anyone could breach Duncan Fortress. Even a legendary powerhouse like himself could easily scale the walls and slaughter the garrison soldiers. But a man’s strength was finite; his vigor and stamina would be constantly depleted in high-intensity combat. Once trapped in a forest of blades and a rain of locust-like arrows, he would likely die on the spot, with no chance of escape. The refined iron portcullis of Duncan Fortress was connected to two giant winches, requiring a hundred strong soldiers to turn them simultaneously to open the gate. A Gold-rank powerhouse trying to turn a winch alone would face a volley of military heavy crossbows and large ballistae. If the defending soldiers removed the iron locks from the portcullis beforehand, turning the winches would be useless. A Gold-rank powerhouse couldn’t just lift the refined iron portcullis with their bare hands, could they? Not even a Legendary-rank Ogre Lord possessed such strength.

If the gate could not be opened, an extraordinary individual risking their life to raid the fortress would be a meaningless endeavor.

Duncan Fortress was impregnable and indestructible, truly deserving of its reputation as the safest sanctuary on the eastern defensive line.

If you were to look down from high above, you would discover four garrison castles surrounding the fortress, each sixty kilometers away. It would take soldiers four hours to reach them on foot, and cavalry only two. With a forced march that disregarded combat stamina, the reinforcement time could be cut in half.

Between the garrison castles and the fortress were twelve outpost camps. Their walls were built of limestone, and each contained three tall arrow towers, forming mutually supporting positions that served as nodes for vigilance and communication. Beyond the garrison castles were even larger barracks capable of holding fifteen hundred cavalry and one thousand infantry. Beyond these barracks were more castles and outposts, extending outward in layers.

Different types of fortifications, supply depots, outpost roads, garrison infantry, and mobile cavalry formed a tight defensive system. Duncan Fortress was the heart and brain of this entire system. With every contraction, troops and supplies were sent like blood to the various defensive nodes; with every expansion, soldiers and supplies concentrated back toward the fortress. If any defensive node was attacked, she would mobilize idle mobile cavalry and supplies, transfusing blood to the attacked area.

This was a living defensive line, its life intertwined with the Sasan Empire and the human kingdoms.

The bizarre physique of the Centaurs meant they lacked siege capabilities. They couldn’t breach not only Duncan Fortress but even a standard castle or a large encampment. In fact, almost no beastmen could break through the fortifications constructed by the human kingdoms. For thousands of years, only the Goblin King and the Ogre Vol’gan had ever destroyed human castles.

The soldiers defending the eastern defensive line held their ground from within their fortifications, hiding inside when the enemy was strong and sallying out when the enemy was weak. They were actually relatively safe and unlikely to suffer heavy casualties. When Flidis proposed arming thirty thousand of the Baselius family’s militia and ten thousand infantry, Uther not only readily agreed but also took the initiative to increase the numbers to forty thousand militia and twenty thousand infantry.

The Patriarch was, in essence, using the military equipment provided by the kingdoms to help the Baselius family expand its army.

Since the risks for the defending soldiers were limited, why did Flidis choose to arm the soldiers of the Baselius family instead of the militia of lords from the eastern or central parts of the empire?

Duncan Fortress and the eastern defensive line perfectly reflected the political groundwork the Radiant Knights were laying across the entire human kingdoms.

Testier and Flidis’s decision to organize hundreds of thousands of refugee-tenants to pioneer the Northern Wildlands, which bordered the eastern Sasan Empire, was not a major mistake. It was just that no one had anticipated that the Sidon Centaurs, who had been tearing each other to shreds, would suddenly unite for a long-range raid on the Sasan Empire’s East Pioneer Fief.

Regardless, the fact remained that hundreds of thousands of Sasan tenants had suffered heavy casualties, and Testier could not escape the blame. According to Church tenets, someone had to be held responsible for the massive loss of believers’ lives, and the Testier family’s position as the First Paladin was already teetering on the brink of collapse. It wouldn’t matter if Testier fell from his throne, but the real fear was that the Radiant Knights would also lose their power to lead the Church. However, this beastman war was not over. What would happen if Testier led the human armies to completely annihilate the beastmen invaders?

The Radiant Knights’ prestige would soar, and the tenants who had lost their lives would be listed as heroic mercenary warriors who died fighting the beastmen. As long as the human kingdoms conquered the Sidon Centaurs’ territory and reclaimed over three million square kilometers of former homeland, no one would hold Testier accountable for his negligence, and no one would care about the true identity of the fallen.

Therefore, Flidis’s lighting of the red smoke beacons had a twofold purpose. The yet-to-be-seen King of Beastmen was one factor. On the other hand, the human kingdoms’ armies had gathered in great numbers: two hundred and eighty thousand cavalry and one hundred and fifty thousand infantry in the East Pioneer Fief war zone, and another two hundred and twenty thousand cavalry from Sus, Borea, and Naville in the Giantstone Fortress war zone. Such a vast human army did not march to the Northern Wildlands just to watch a show. Regardless of whether there was a King of Beastmen, the objective of this war mobilization by the human kingdoms was to annihilate the beastmen invaders and, while they were at it, reclaim their former homeland—the territory of the Iron Mountain Empire.

In fact, Testier, Flidis, and Frederick were using this crisis to rally the full strength of the human kingdoms to help the Sasan Empire expand into the Northern Wildlands, and this included the Baselius and Rex families.

There was no need to mention King Rex of Naville. If the Sasan Empire and the Radiant Knights took the Westdon Khanate, the new territory would connect to Giantstone Fortress, and the people of Naville could easily stake a claim to a large swathe of red-soiled land in the Northern Wildlands. As for Baselius, their relationship with Frederick was quite subtle, which traced back to the political ecosystem of the Sasan Empire.

The secular Paladin lords, represented by the Frederick family, guarded the eastern territories of the Sasan Empire, fulfilling the royal family’s obligation to protect its subjects and possessing the power and legitimacy of royalty. Naturally, the lords of the Sasan Empire gravitated towards the Frederick family. However, Frederick’s Silver Bloodline was not enough to support an empire’s knight class. The Baselius family occupied the rear heartland in the empire’s west, but they possessed the Gold Bloodline, which in turn attracted Sasan lords to secretly pledge their allegiance to the descendants of the Iron Mountain Queen and the Sword Saint Draven.

Frederick, united with the Radiant Knights, defended the land and held the legitimacy of the royal family. Baselius spread its bloodline, maintaining the knight-noble class of the Sasan Empire. Their relationship was intricate; on the surface, they were rivals, but in reality, they were symbiotic.

The Sasan Imperial Family and the Radiant Knights were two sides of the same coin. Their relationship with Baselius was a microcosm of the relationship between secular lords and the Paladin families. Great lords, including Victor, needed the power of the Radiant Knights to combat the beastmen forces, but they also loathed their interference in secular affairs. Baselius cooperated with the Radiant Knights on military matters but engaged in political infighting. With the Ironmount Royal Family tying up the Radiant Knights, all the other kingdoms breathed a sigh of relief and offered their political support. The Spire Faction was born from this, and the two major priest factions of Tamor and Clement also established a firm footing in the Holy See with the support of the secular lords.

No one could ignore that, in recent centuries, the knight class of the Iron Mountain Empire had recovered its strength, relying on the Sasan Empire. If the conflict between the two royal houses was not diverted externally, it would erupt internally. Utheryn Baselius was humble and low-key, but his vassals were not. Besides, if he were truly so low-key, why would he challenge Sylvia when he knew she was a Spirit Knight?

This beastman war became an opportunity for the two royal houses to resolve their conflict, and Uther’s humble and low-key style provided a way out for them to reconcile. Flidis using the equipment aided by the kingdoms and the Church to arm the Baselius family’s army was the clearest of political signals—a portion of the Sidon Centaurs’ three million square kilometers of territory belongs to you, Baselius. We must jointly push forward the northern expansion strategy.

The rise of Baselius was unstoppable, and the revival of the Iron Mountain Empire was on the horizon. The political landscape of the human kingdoms was thus being rewritten.

In light of this, the Radiant Knights and the Holy See’s Curia did not wish to see the Iron Mountain Empire developing close ties and communication with the southern Gambis Kingdom.

It was a foregone conclusion that the Church’s power would be tilted towards the northern expansion strategy. The fact that they and the northern expansion lords were still using the power of the southern expansion lords to create a breakthrough made Victor feel as sick as if he had swallowed a fly. Because of this war, the Centaur Hills had lost a full third of the weapons and armor it had amassed.

However, from the standpoint of the Gambis Kingdom, he had no choice but to give it his all. A complete victory for the human allied forces and the conquest of the Sidon Centaurs’ territory would be a victory for the tenant system. If the human allied forces were to retreat to the eastern defensive line, it would be a failure for the tenant system.

The logic was simple. The northern expansion lords were about to carve up three million square kilometers of red-soiled land. Without implementing the tenant system, how could they possibly develop such a vast new territory?

The eastern defensive line was as solid as a rock; even the army of a beastmen king would smash itself to pieces against it. The Sasan Empire would not fall, but the matter of the tenants who died in the East Pioneer Fief would have to be brought back to the table for discussion.

The Gambis Kingdom was too small, not even a third the size of the Sasan Empire. Without the tenant system, the so-called expansion south of the river and the dream of establishing a great southern empire would remain just that—a dream.

Victor rested his hand on the limestone parapet, warmed by the sun, his mind contemplating the changes the new political landscape would bring to the human kingdoms. At that moment, below the fortress, Roland’s figure caught his eye. The princess was wearing armor of the same style and color as Auroxia’s. Looking at the details of the armor, it was the very same one Auroxia had been wearing.

Auroxia and Roland had similar figures, but only Roland could likely pull off stripping the Mithril armor off someone else’s back and brazenly parading around in it.

And it had to be said, clad in the ornate dark gold armor, Roland looked like a valiant Valkyrie. Siegfried walked alongside her, looking like a mere follower. And this was despite the Crown Prince of the Sasan Empire having already changed out of his ceremonial armor and into a knight’s combat gear…

Yes, he still looked like Roland’s follower.

Just as the Church’s upper echelon feared the secular influence of an alliance between the Iron Mountain and Gambis Kingdoms, the royal houses of Gambis and Iron Mountain could not tolerate the Radiant Knights’ manipulation of secular politics.

The six great Paladin families had once conspired to assassinate the emperor of the Randt Empire; as clergy, they had shady dealings with the Wizard organizations of the Eastern Alliance; and they had lit the red smoke beacons without confirming the existence of a King of Beastmen, using the knights and vassal soldiers of the various kingdoms to fight the beastmen in the Northern Wildlands for them.

No matter how many legitimate reasons the Radiant Knights had, their unscrupulous, rule-bending style was alarming. Anyone would feel a headache and fear when faced with such an opponent.

The southern and northern empires had to join forces to suppress the aggressive arrogance of the Radiant Knights. Unfortunately, Gambis was not yet a great southern empire, and now was not the time for a showdown.

Flidis wanted to create conflict and divide the two major political groups within the Spire Faction. Baselius had to keep pace with the Sasan Empire’s northern expansion strategy, and Gambis also had to lie low to avoid becoming a target for the Church. However, neither Uther nor Auroxia could resist the temptation of the Blue Taro potion.

The Blue Taro potion possessed hundreds of different layers of flavor, and these flavors blended to evolve countless new tastes. Victor had taken one sip and felt sick for a full seventeen days; if he wasn’t careful, those strange flavors would pop up out of nowhere. He believed that while the potion’s effect manifested as taste, it acted directly on one’s mind. It held a strong allure for Gold Knights, allowing them to profoundly experience the Law of Taste in the real world, thereby awakening and strengthening the humane part of their souls.

Sylvia and Sophia took the Blue Taro potion regularly, which allowed them to live to their maximum lifespan and unseal more of their power. This meant the potion could help Auroxia and Uther charge into the legendary realm, and as long as they were careful, they wouldn’t have to worry about their souls being assimilated by the Elemental Sea.

If either Auroxia or Uther advanced to Legendary Knight, it would greatly enhance the political influence of the Baselius family, thereby accelerating the division of the Sasan Empire. The northern empire would split into the Sasan Empire led by Frederick and the Iron Mountain Empire with Baselius as its royal family, which would tie up the Radiant Knights’ energy. Afterward, Baselius would certainly infiltrate the Sasan noble class, competing with the Radiant Knights for control of Sasan, turning the Sasan Empire into a wrestling ground and a buffer zone between them.

With the Paladin families and the Ironmount Royal Family vying and scheming against each other, Gambis could sit back and watch the drama unfold while focusing on its own development.

Mithril armor held special significance for high-ranked knights. Roland had traded the Blue Taro potion for Auroxia’s armor. And the Sasan Crown Prince was still foolishly fawning over her, praising how well the armor suited her.

The Blue Taro potion was a secret among Gold Knights. The Legendary Priest and the Sasan Crown Prince could never have imagined that the two princesses had reached a secret pact right under their noses, with Auroxia’s armor as the testament to their agreement.

The sound of two sets of footsteps reached Victor’s ears. An Alchemical militiaman from his personal guard approached with a sturdily built man dressed as a mercenary, lowering his voice to say, “My lord, as you commanded, I have brought the man from Quicksilver to see you.”

The sturdy man stepped forward and said respectfully, “Good day, my lord. Lithe Ape militiaman Hunter answers the lord’s summons.”

Victor turned around and asked with a smile, “Hunter, we haven’t seen each other in seven years… Where is the leader of Quicksilver in the Sasan Empire? How many people has he developed?”

Hunter was a member of the third batch of Lithe Ape militiamen Victor had created and was now nine years old. He had founded Quicksilver with the old spy Barol, and was later assigned by Barol to his adopted daughter, Mia, to protect her while she developed the Quicksilver organization in the Sasan Empire.

Currently, all of the old spy’s adopted children had returned to the Randell Fief to undergo body reconstruction and practice the Mind Bloodline secret art, Mia included. Her work in the Sasan Empire had been temporarily handed over to the younger spies of House of Randell, who, of course, were now adults capable of holding their own.

Quicksilver had expanded a hundredfold since its inception, infiltrating the lower echelons of society in the various kingdoms. Its personnel structure was complex, and its outer line had a high turnover rate. A report Victor saw a year ago from Sasan Quicksilver mentioned that they controlled twenty-nine gangs and seventeen small mercenary companies. As for the current state of the Quicksilver organization in the Sasan Empire, even Victor was not clear. However, Quicksilver’s strongest fighting force was the Alchemical militia he had created. As long as alchemical humans served as Quicksilver’s martial backbone, the organization could never escape Victor’s control.

When the Sasan royal family issued the Call to Arms, all commoners in Duncan Fortress were evacuated, while freelance mercenary companies and Rangers of all sizes flooded into the fortresses of the eastern defensive line. The priests in Duncan Fortress posted missions for mercenaries and Rangers in the taverns. Victor had sent a Lithe Ape militiaman to make a round in the taverns and, sure enough, had found the alchemical human, Hunter.

“My lord, the Quicksilver leader has gone to Dewdrop Town in the empire’s west… As for how many people Quicksilver has developed in the Sasan Empire, that’s a question I cannot answer.” Hunter shook his head, then asked proactively, “Do you want me to contact the leader and have him come see you?”

Victor shook his head. “No need to contact him. I will be leaving Duncan Fortress soon… Go to him and relay my command: all Quicksilver spies are to transfer to the towns and cities of the western empire, blend into the local refugee camps, and carefully record any anomalies.”

Hunter thought for a moment, then asked, “My lord, what sort of anomalies are you referring to?”

Before leaving, Patriarch Flidis had dropped a line: Gambis would be sending people to Baselius’s territory to relocate a population. Upon hearing this, Uther had actually used his Aura to control his emotional fluctuations.

His reaction was excessive.

There was a strange phenomenon in this war: the investment and returns were disproportionate. The more mobile cavalry one committed, the heavier the casualties, yet the benefits were not necessarily commensurate. The Dodor Kingdom dispatched an aid force of forty-five thousand cavalry and fifteen thousand infantry, practically using every ounce of their strength. They only managed to secure their pioneering outpost in the Ghost Forest. If the Sasan Empire successfully occupied the Westdon Khanate’s land, the Dodorians might be able to seize control of the Warton Great Plains. The Kingdoms of Sus and Borea fared the worst; they would gain almost nothing, at most a slightly larger share of beastmen “specialty products.”

The eastern lords of Sasan had the largest cavalry force, a full one hundred twenty thousand strong, but no one knew how many of these knights, the hard-earned foundation of the eastern lords, would die on the battlefield. Baselius and his four marquesses had fewer than thirty thousand cavalry. Even if they lost them all, it wouldn’t be a fundamental blow to them. Yet they stood to receive a large piece of the cake.

Baselius was gaining the greatest benefit. Gambis was providing both cavalry and supplies, and in return was asking the Sasan Empire for a few hundred thousand able-bodied refugees and some grain. Was that enough to make him change his expression?

The refugee population in the Sasan Empire was close to thirteen million. The reason for Uther’s emotional fluctuation was likely not his reluctance to part with a few hundred thousand refugees. Rather, it was because Victor’s subordinates would be entering the Sasan west to organize the refugee migration.

If Uther wasn’t just putting on a show for the Patriarch, then he definitely had something to hide!

Victor could not guess what Baselius was up to, but he was certain it was related to the refugees.

Since the matter involved refugees, Victor had to send Quicksilver to the Sasan west to investigate.

“Anomalies… refer to unusual situations. If I knew what specific anomalies to look for, what would I need Quicksilver for?”

He said coolly, “Relay these exact words to the leader of Quicksilver.”

Chapter 624: The Keeper of Secrets’ Plan

The Shadow Council, Hall of Dreams.

The floor of flawless, yellow-glazed rock was polished like a mirror, covered in mysterious, symmetrical patterns that spread up the hundred-meter-tall giant bronze pillars all the way to the vaulted ceiling of the hall. Twelve enormous statues of sword-wielding angels were distributed around the hall. They were jet-black, as if cloaked in a layer of shadow, with only their eyes flowing with a platinum-gold light. Anyone walking beneath the statues could feel the angels’ gazes; it seemed as if they might awaken at any moment to Purify any profaner.

Spacious, timeless, mysterious, and grand, it fostered a sacred and solemn atmosphere. This was no hall built by human hands; it was constructed from the dreams of Shadow Priests, concealing countless secrets, knowledge, and extraordinary power.

Every time Shadow Bishop Charlie entered the Hall of Dreams, he came with a different state of mind: shock, joy, piety, pride, loss, resilience, hope, and finally, a peaceful sense of belonging.

The mysterious patterns of the Hall of Dreams were engraved deep within Charlie’s soul. When he followed his Tutor to study the Spiritual Meditation method, part of the content involved memorizing sections of these same patterns, down to the slightest detail. Doing so would allow him to resonate spiritually with his Tutor. To practice the level two meditation method, he had to memorize another part of the patterns. When he pushed his meditation method to level six, he entered the Hall of Dreams in his sleep.

Now, Charlie understood that the Spiritual Meditation of the Shadow Priests was, in fact, also a spell of the Hall of Dreams. In the process of memorizing the patterns, a Wizard’s spiritual power constructed a set of magic circuits, and the Hall of Dreams was the manifestation of these abstract patterns. As long as a Shadow Priest practiced the Spiritual Meditation to level six, they could enter the Hall in their sleep and meet with other level-six Mages.

Unfortunately, Charlie’s Tutor had not managed to practice the Spiritual Meditation to level six and thus never learned the secrets of the Hall of Dreams.

Charlie walked alone through the vast great hall, passing through the corridor guarded by the angel statues. Behind him, a simple, ancient throne materialized. When he sat down, a stone pillar rose from the floor, lifting the throne, along with the Shadow Bishop, to the hundred-meter-high dome.

In the Hall of Dreams, Shadow Priests were not omnipotent. Everything here followed corresponding rules. To change the rules meant being unable to establish a spiritual resonance with other level-six Shadow Priests, which would completely sever him from the Hall of Dreams.

Opposite Charlie was an identical stone pillar, and on the throne sat a little boy with delicate features. He was clad in a robe that seemed woven from the night itself, hovering between the illusory and the real.

“Lord Shadow Bishop, the Keeper of Secrets greets you.” The black-robed boy nodded to Charlie across the insurmountable space.

Charlie had multiple identities, corresponding to different organizations and roles.

He was the Shadow Bishop of the religious inquisition, responsible for teaching the young Wizards sent from the Theocracy of Ayr by the Trigoval family and training them to become Shadow Priests. He was the Council President of The Shadow Council established by the Trigoval family, holding the title of Sky-Watcher, possessing a great owl puppet to fly to every corner of the human kingdoms, searching for unaffiliated young Wizards to bring them into The Shadow Council, under the surveillance of the Trigovals.

It was not until Charlie entered the Hall of Dreams and met the Keeper of Secrets that he learned that beyond The Shadow Council controlled by the Inquisition, there was another Shadow Council—one that belonged to the Shadow Priests themselves.

From then on, he gained another role: Vice-Speaker of The Shadow Council, codenamed “Messenger.” And the President of The Shadow Council was none other than the Keeper of Secrets of the Hall of Dreams.

Of all his titles, Charlie liked being called Shadow Bishop the most. As a subject of the Theocracy of Ayr and a descendant of the clergy, his pious faith in the Lord of Radiance was bone-deep. This indestructible conviction was the very armor that allowed Shadow Priests to resist the Devil’s whispers, enabling them to draw knowledge and power from those whispers without losing themselves.

Charlie trusted the Keeper of Secrets. Since stepping into the Hall of Dreams, not only had the Keeper told him the truth about The Shadow Council, but he had also followed the tradition of the Keepers and taught him a great deal of arcane spell secrets and spell models. This precious magical knowledge was the legacy of generations of Shadow Priests. Compiled and organized by the Hall’s Keepers, it had nearly formed a complete system of spells. However, the Shadow Priests called these spells the Shadow Divine Arts.

As a level-six Shadow Priest, Charlie knew immediately that the system of Shadow Divine Arts described by the Keeper of the Hall had no traps or concealments. He believed the Keeper of Secrets shared the same conviction as all Shadow Priests—to walk in the light and serve the supreme Lord of Radiance.

The Shadow Divine Arts were the crystallization of the wisdom of generations of Shadow Priests, a perfect embodiment of their ideals.

Charlie guessed that the Keeper of Secrets might be the successor to the Shadow Priest who had created the Hall of Dreams’ meditation method. But he couldn’t imagine how the Keeper’s line had evaded the eyes and ears of the Inquisition to select their young Wizard heirs, nor how they ensured that every generation of Keepers reached the level of a level-six Shadow Priest. But he would not press the Keeper of Secrets for answers, because as long as the Keeper’s line of succession remained unbroken, the Shadow Priests would one day realize their common ideal. Before that day, the Shadow Priests had to conceal the Keeper’s existence.

“Charlie, Shadow Priest, greets you, esteemed Keeper of Secrets of the Hall,” Charlie said, placing a hand on his chest in a salute to the boy-shaped Keeper.

A gentle sigh flowed through the vast hall. The Keeper of Secrets smiled faintly. “For so many years, only two thrones have risen in the Hall of Dreams. I wonder if we will ever see new companions in the future.”

Due to his practice of puppetry and the Art of True Sight, Charlie’s limbs were atrophied and his body was paralyzed. He had lived for years in a high tower provided by the Inquisition, focusing on the study of theology and the Shadow Divine Arts, long accustomed to a life of isolated solitude. Even though no new Shadow Priests had appeared in the Hall of Dreams for decades, he did not feel lonely or desolate. Exchanging experiences and discussing the Shadow Divine Arts with the Keeper of Secrets gave him the feeling of transcending time and space, of conversing with the high-rank Shadow Priests of every generation.

This was legacy. Even if Charlie’s time was short, as long as the Keeper of Secrets was in the Hall of Dreams, there would always be successors to inherit his research and innovate upon it, just as he himself had done.

“The Shadow Priest Biber has already pushed his Spiritual Meditation to the fifth level. He has a chance to enter the Hall of Dreams. Perhaps I will not live to see it, but perhaps you will.”

A gratified smile touched the corners of Charlie’s mouth. Without waiting for the Keeper of Secrets to respond, he spoke with fervent eyes, “I have improved the models for the Withering Art and the Art of Obscurity proposed by the sixth-generation Shadow Bishop. Help me take a look.”

Two intricate, complex patterns of purple light materialized in the void before the Keeper of Secrets. He observed them carefully for a long time, memorizing the magic circuits, and murmured, “You’ve really succeeded… The divine art system for Shade Warriors has finally touched upon the intermediate ranks.”

Withering Art: The caster uses a weapon or their bare hands to strike an enemy, inflicting dual damage to the target’s soul and body, causing effects of mental sluggishness, spiritual fatigue, and localized life force drain. With each contact, the damage effect lasts for five seconds and can be stacked. However, when the Withering Art is stacked to a certain degree, the target’s soul and body will suffer irreversible damage, showing signs of aging and withering.

Art of Obscurity: A target hostile to the caster has a certain chance to ignore the caster’s actions and presence, causing the caster to flicker in and out of the enemy’s line of sight.

These two spells relied on magic circuits and were designed for melee Wizards. The Shadow Priests of the Hall of Dreams wanted to emulate the Church’s Sacred Warriors, training less talented Wizards into melee-focused Shade Warriors. The training method for a Shadow Warrior was, in fact, the entry-level foundation for a Shade Warrior. They would then practice the accompanying spells to become powerful, extraordinary melee combatants. A Shadow Priest could learn the melee spells of a Shade Warrior, but they would first need the vigor to memorize more spell models and possess ample magic power to cast the spells. Most Wizards could not achieve this, so Shadow Priests tended to follow a specialized path.

The Shadow Priests of the Hall of Dreams had passed down their legacy for generations, spending hundreds of years perfecting the spell system for Shadow Priests from levels one to six, while the spell system for Shade Warriors had been stuck at the initial-rank. With Charlie successfully constructing the magic circuits for the level-three Withering Art and the level-four Art of Obscurity, the Shade Warrior’s spell system had finally broken through to the intermediate rank.

The Keeper of Secrets manifested a thick, ancient tome, drawing the complex and mysterious patterns of purple light from the void into its pages. He said solemnly, “These two spells cannot be given to the Trigovals. They will be kept by the Keeper of Secrets.”

“Of course. This is the effort of several generations of the Hall of Dreams’ Keepers and Shadow Priests, not my personal achievement.”

Charlie nodded, once again sizing up the boy-shaped Keeper of Secrets, and smiled. “You memorized the magic circuits for the Withering Art and the Art of Obscurity so quickly. Your talent is truly enviable.”

“Like you, I have spent a long time studying the foundational models of these two Shadow Divine Arts.”

The heavy tome floating in the void quickly disappeared. The Keeper of Secrets changed the subject, saying, “Let’s discuss the matters of The Shadow Council… What’s the word from Baselius?”

“Lord Council President, a situation has arisen with Baselius, which I was about to discuss with you.”

Charlie shifted roles and nodded. “Your Highnesses of Baselius have requested that the Shadow Priests create a Shadow Warrior for them… I have already agreed. Also, news has come from Baselius that His Highness Randall of the Gambis Kingdom is preparing to send people to the western Sasan Empire to relocate refugees. Baselius hopes we can screen them for young Wizards.”

The Shadow Council President pondered for a moment, then smiled meaningfully. “Baselius is too greedy… They know full well that the Gold-Eyed Earl and the Queen of Roses are also targets we are striving to win over. It makes no difference whether the young Wizards among the refugees stay in the western Sasan or are moved to the Centaur Hills… The Wizards of the human kingdoms must be led by the Shadow Priests! Baselius asks us to screen the refugees for young Wizards, hmph, he has no intention of handing all of them over to the Shadow Priests.”

The Shadow Council President paused, tapping his young fingers on the armrest of the throne three times. His tone shifted as he said, “However, we also need the support of the Iron Mountain Empire. Now is not the time to have a showdown with Baselius… Just placate him for a bit, help him pick out two random young Wizards… The key is that we must make contact with the Gold-Eyed Earl.”

A bitter smile appeared on Charlie’s face, and he shook his head. “I am currently at Giantstone Fortress in the Kingdom of Naville. Inquisitor-General Trigovar has ordered me, in my capacity as the Sky-Watcher, to go to the Northern Wildlands to search for the King of Beastmen… I cannot get away, so I can’t help Baselius select young Wizards, nor can I go to the eastern defensive line of the Sasan Empire to find the Gold-Eyed Earl. What’s more, all the Shadow Priests are at Giantstone Fortress.”

The Shadow Council President’s expression turned serious. “The army of the King of Beastmen is the greatest threat to the human kingdoms. It is also the duty of the Shadow Priests to help the Church find and eliminate it… Since the Shadow Priests cannot be mobilized, we can only send a Councilor to the Sasan Empire.”

Charlie furrowed his brows and said hesitantly, “The Councilors are not Shadow Priests. They covet wealth, power, and the Bloodlines of Knights… I worry they will ruin things.”

The President smiled and nodded. “You are right. I will arrange everything. Don’t worry.”

“In that case, I will leave the Hall,” Charlie said, rising to salute. His form gradually faded until it vanished completely.

The Shadow Council President sat alone on his throne, shaking his head and muttering to himself, “He left so quickly… Charlie is conserving his magic power. It seems Trigovar is pressing him hard.”

The giant stone pillar descended silently. As the Shadow Council President’s feet touched the floor of the hall, he had transformed into a middle-aged man with a blurred face and a dignified, imposing air.

“My Shadow Knight, did you hear all of that?”

As the grand voice echoed through the vast hall, the shadows on the twelve sword-wielding angel statues flowed downward like water, revealing their platinum-gold sheen, but their eyes had turned jet-black. The shadows, as if alive, converged on the ground, and from them emerged a knight in armor composed of shadow, his eyes shining with platinum-gold light.

“Radiance brings shadow.”

The knight traced an inverted holy symbol over his chest and intoned to the President, “The Shadow Knight greets his Master.”

The Shadow Council President corrected him, displeased, “You drew the holy symbol upside down.”

“The supreme Lord of Radiance is the mighty King of Shadows. They are two sides of the same coin, like Redemption and retribution.” The knight’s words were in stark contrast to his respectful demeanor.

“…You.”

The Shadow Council President was at a loss for words for a moment, then said with some annoyance, “The Shadow Priests have yet to gain the recognition of the Church. This new theology of yours, just remember it. There’s no need to emphasize it in front of me.”

“As you wish, my Master.”

The Shadow Council President’s expression softened slightly as he began to speak, “Baselius wants to see a sample of a Shadow Warrior. I’ll send a Councilor to the western Sasan… For the Gold-Eyed Earl, our line of Keepers must appear in person. You will go to the eastern defensive line and find him.”

The Shadow Knight asked, “Master, there is a difference between Shadow Priests and the clergy, after all. Are you certain the Gold-Eyed Earl and the Queen of Roses will support our philosophy?”

The President said pensively, “A clergy member should be measured by their piety to the Lord, not by magic or holy power… The Nobles, while greedy, are also pragmatic. Go and see the Gold-Eyed Earl. Tell him everything. He will make the right choice.”

“But The Shadow Council once sent assassins after the Gold-Eyed Earl, which led to the fall of the two Great Knights, Gambis and Dodor, and we also lost two powerful Wizards. The Gold-Eyed Earl might have a top-tier Wizard serving him…”

The President cut his subordinate off, continuing, “That is precisely why we must confess everything to the Sun Elf… including telling him that there is no King of Beastmen, that a Legendary Centaur is hidden within the Centaur army… The Sky-Watcher will certainly find a Legendary-rank beastman leader in the Northern Wildlands. The Pope, Tournans, Neo Wester, Testier, and Trigovar are bound to go hunt down this Legendary beastman… Once they are deep in the wildlands, I will lure the Legendary Centaur to attack the Sasan Empire’s eastern defensive line. You will tell the Gold-Eyed Earl to find a way to remain at the eastern defensive line, wait for Nachtigal’s arrival, and then, together with the two princes of Baselius, strike and kill the great centaur. This feat will be enough to have the Gold-Eyed Earl canonized as a Saint. Meanwhile, the Inquisition will be reprimanded for its blunder, which will inevitably implicate the Radiant Knights. I believe no lord enjoys the arrogance of the Radiant Knights, precisely because the Radiant Knights control the religious inquisition… Saint Randall, the Queen of Roses, Emperor Baselius, and the Lightguard will all speak out against Trigovar at the same time. The Inquisition will fall into the hands of the Nachtigal family. Even if the Shadow Priests’ organization cannot be made public for the time being, we can still break free from the control of the Radiant Knights.”

“The crucial point is the Lightguard’s attitude towards the Shadow Priests… If the Lightguard can accept the new theology, and Inquisitor-General Nachtigal, savior of the Sasan Empire, petitions the Radiant Holy Mountain to issue an edict, then everything that follows will proceed according to our plan… When the Shadow Priests walk in the light, what does it matter if Baselius and the Gold-Eyed Earl refuse to hand over their young Wizards? The Wizards of the human kingdoms will eventually flock to the Church, to the Shadow Priests… For now, let the great lords gather the Wizards for us.”

The knight of shadow remained silent for a moment before saying respectfully, “As you wish, my Master.”

“I will go and see the Gold-Eyed Earl and confess everything to him.”

Chapter 625: Longing in a Time of War

After a two-day stay in Duncan Fortress, Victor and Roland departed for Greyhound Village to rejoin the main vanguard force. Gillian and her entourage of more than a hundred remained behind at Duncan Fortress.

The main reinforcements from the Kingdom of Gambis were not due to arrive at Duncan Fortress for another half a month. It wouldn’t do for the elite vanguard, led by their Highnesses, to have only captured Greyhound Village. Victor and Roland decided to use the intervening time to retake all the pioneering settlements on the eastern side of the Duncan Fortress war zone, extending its defensive depth by eighty kilometers.

Extending the defensive depth was not as simple as merely driving out a band of entrenched beastmen and retaking a fortified village. It involved repairing houses, expanding fortifications, implementing a scorched-earth policy, posting infantry garrisons, and managing supply lines—issues that ultimately boiled down to manpower and resources. Of the three mobile forces operating in the eastern territories, whoever captured the pioneering settlements first would be the first to replenish their ranks with quality soldiers and secure supplies. High-quality garrison troops assisting the mobile cavalry could reduce the casualties for the main Gambis reinforcements, and military provisions were paramount. Gillian was in charge of coordinating these matters with the Sasan Imperial Family’s logistics officer at Duncan Fortress.

Upon returning to Greyhound Village, Victor immediately led the vanguard to sweep through the nearby pioneering settlements occupied by beastmen. These entrenched beastmen had no particularly powerful leaders, and the Gambis vanguard boasted a Legendary archer, a Gold Knight, and five Silver-rank Great Knights. They were completely overwhelming in terms of strength, though somewhat lacking in numbers, which made it rather difficult to clean up the scattered, fleeing beastmen. However, the priority now was to buy time for the scorched-earth policy and the construction of barracks, so there was no need to consider annihilating every last beastman. Victor simply changed his combat style. Each time, he would be the first to charge into a fortified village, activate his Raging Wind Domain, and unleash his full power. A whirlwind of wind blades danced, Azure Moon and Azure Blade cut across the entire field, and beastmen fell in rivers of blood, fleeing in every direction. It was a full display of his tyrannical power to rule the battlefield.

The Raging Wind Domain was Victor’s group combat skill, a veritable bane for common, smaller-statured beastmen. Although the Azure wind blades he unleashed had limited effect on the tough-bodied ferocious monsters, the terrifyingly efficient and precise slaughter of common beastmen by the Raging Wind Domain struck fear into the hearts of the ferocious ones. Any rash and hot-tempered Ogre Brutes who charged Victor through the storm of wind blades were swiftly decapitated by the sharp Azure Blade. As for the ferocious beastmen that tried to flee, Roland was naturally waiting outside to intercept them.

In truth, the Raging Wind Domain consumed a massive amount of energy. Victor had to reserve some vigor to protect himself on the battlefield, so he could currently only maintain the domain for four minutes. Yet those four short minutes were enough to utterly crush the beastmen’s will to resist and completely overturn everyone’s impression of His Highness Randell. Especially when Victor ferociously cleaved a Silver-rank berserk Ogre in two from shoulder to chest with a single strike, the high-ranking female knights of Gambis looked at him with eyes full of ardor. On the battlefield, nothing was more inspiring than a direct display of raw power. The clergy accompanying the army were all dumbfounded.

So, His Highness Randell was also a Legendary Swordsman.

By the time Victor had swept through three beastmen-held locations in the same manner, everyone had grown accustomed to it.

As long as the powerful, ferocious beastmen were eliminated, the Goblins and Gnolls scattering everywhere were no cause for concern. The Sasan militia detachments following behind were perfectly capable of dealing with sporadic beastmen bandits. After conquering a pioneering settlement, the Gambis vanguard would rest for a day, briefly clear the battlefield, and send a messenger raven to Duncan Fortress to have a militia garrison come and take over. Then they would pounce on the next target.

On the eighth day, the vanguard finally encountered a somewhat decent opponent—or more accurately, Roland had deliberately increased the difficulty of the engagement.

Little Calf Village was the last pioneering village in the Duncan Fortress defensive zone yet to be reclaimed. Victor couldn’t help but roast the pioneers’ custom for naming their settlements. Before a pioneer chose a site to build a village, the first thing that left the deepest impression on the village head would become the settlement’s name. If the village head saw a greyhound urinating on the ground, it was named Greyhound Village. If the village head built a bonfire, it was called Campfire Village. Seeing a mushroom ring meant it became Mushroom Village… there were even places called Horse Dung Village, Hen Village, and Goose Egg Village… In short, whatever the village head saw, that’s what it was called. This was supposedly how a pioneering village got a lucky name.

What on earth was that all about?

The story went that Little Calf Village got its name because the village head’s cow happened to give birth to a calf at the pioneering outpost. By now, though, the “little calf” mascot had likely turned into beastman droppings. The village was now occupied by a massive number of beastmen, totaling over ten thousand, consisting mainly of Goblins and Kobolds. The Hobgoblins also kept seventeen Ogre bodyguards and over three hundred Bugbears. Their leader was a Silver-rank Dragon-blooded Kobold.

The number of beastmen was indeed intimidating, but they had only gathered for a short time and hadn’t yet formed the cohesiveness of a tribe. They were barely held together by the intimidation of their Dragon-blooded Kobold leader. They were nothing but a rabble. Victor figured that if he killed the Kobold leader first, the cowardly Goblins would start by trampling each other before scattering in a panic, posing a negligible threat to the vanguard.

Silver-rank Dragon-blooded Kobolds were extremely rare, and their racial talents were quite terrifying. According to monsterology texts, a Silver-rank Dragon-blooded Kobold was an extraordinary creature. Its back was covered in hard dragon scales, its formidable power was comparable to a berserk Ogre, it possessed regeneration superior to a Marsh Dragon-Lizard, and it had respectable elemental resistance. The scorching liquid fire it spat from its mouth couldn’t even be extinguished by water and was hot enough to melt metal. Even an Ogre Warlord would choose to avoid a confrontation with a Silver-rank Dragon-blooded Kobold. Most terrifying of all, they possessed the legendary Dragon’s Might, which could continuously intimidate other creatures, filling them with fear towards the Kobold. Creatures with weak willpower would submit to the Dragon’s Might, while those with strong willpower would have to constantly suppress their instinctual fear. The slightest lapse could cause them to be affected by the Dragon’s Might and be overcome by the urge to flee, which was extremely fatal in combat.

With their powerful fire breath and Dragon’s Might, a Silver-rank Dragon-blooded Kobold could well be considered a Gold-rank monster. However, they possessed higher intelligence and thus lacked the mental power of wild intuition, which greatly diminished their actual combat capabilities. Since humanity had yet to discover any more powerful Dragon-blooded Kobolds, they were classified as Silver-rank creatures.

As the personal servants of Dragons, every part of a Silver Dragon-blooded Kobold was a treasure. Their blood could be used to create Regeneration Potions and Dragon’s Vein Potions, and their back scales were extraordinary materials. A Dragon’s Blood Potion concocted from their heart could elevate a normal person’s level of life, changing their strength and constitution, doubling their lifespan, slowing their aging, and perhaps even granting them the ability of dim vision.

The difference in value between a living Dragon-blooded Kobold and a dead one was like that between Mithril and silver.

Victor personally scouted Little Calf Village and confirmed its beastman leader was a rare Dragon-blooded Kobold. He advocated for killing the beastman leader to minimize pointless casualties among the vanguard’s warriors. Roland, however, insisted on capturing the Dragon-blooded Kobold alive. She convened the Silver Knights in the vanguard to discuss a plan for attacking Little Calf Village.

“Let me make this clear first: the Dragon-blooded Kobold leader is my war trophy. I will capture it alive myself. None of you are to compete with me for it,” Roland declared to everyone, one hand on her hip, her dark gold armored battle dress shimmering. Her emerald eyes, however, were slanted towards Victor.

The Great Knights of the Swift Dragon Knights naturally supported the princess with all their hearts. With the money-grubbing Gillian absent, only Margaret, among the silver female knights from the other three great families, was unfazed by Roland’s authority. She asked coolly:

“How will it be divided?”

Roland was helpless against the icy Young Lady Wellington; she was, after all, of Marquess Golan’s bloodline.

“I will capture it alive and take it back to Blinor City. Aerie Fortress will be responsible for raising it for two years, and the Regeneration Potions and Dragon’s Vein Potions made from its extracted blood essence will be divided equally among the Five Great Families.” Roland paused, then added quickly, “I estimate the Dragon-blooded Kobold’s heart can be used to make several Dragon’s Blood Potions. I guarantee that every Extraordinary Knight who participates in this battle will get at least one Dragon’s Blood Potion, but you must purchase it from me. The price is set at one hundred fifty thousand Gold Sols.”

Oh? Is Roland imitating my method of consolidating currency? Is she doing this on purpose, or is it just a whim?

Victor was filled with suspicion. He didn’t know that Aerie Fortress had been mimicking his various initiatives all along. Even Auguste had secretly stockpiled a large quantity of a supposedly useless material like soft silver ore.

Dragon’s Blood Potions were rare and precious. They weren’t very useful for Extraordinary Knights or for Victor himself, but they were a rare extraordinary resource. Selling them at a high price or giving them to important non-extraordinary family members were both good options. Everyone nodded, satisfied with Roland’s proposed distribution.

Margaret asked again, “There are too many beastmen. What’s the plan?”

There were over ten thousand beastmen near Little Calf Village. Even if they were all just Goblins, they could bury the few hundred soldiers of the vanguard alive by throwing stones with their slings. Of course, the Gambis vanguard was composed of elites selected from each great family and wouldn’t be buried alive by Goblins throwing stones. But Goblins and Kobolds were typical cowards who grew bold with superior numbers and vice-versa. With such a disparity in numbers, their morale would be high, and their naturally warlike Nature would overcome their cowardice, making them extremely aggressive.

It was precisely for this reason that Victor had proposed killing the Kobold leader first. He had already locked onto the creature’s characteristics with his Nemesis ability. A single, all-out attack would certainly kill the Kobold leader on the spot, turning it into a pile of minced meat.

Roland wanted the Dragon-blooded Kobold alive, so a decapitation strike was out of the question. The vanguard would have to assault Little Calf Village head-on.

The vanguard’s casualties were a matter that had to be considered.

Roland patted her dark gold Mithril breastplate and said confidently, “Don’t worry. I can call for people.”

Margaret blinked and said flatly, “The main reinforcements haven’t arrived yet. His Highness Randell doesn’t have time to wait.”

“…Hehe.” A charming smile played on Roland’s lips, and her eyes glinted slyly as she said, “I’ll write a letter to the Sasan Crown Prince right now and have him bring some garrison militia to support us… We don’t need many, two thousand will be enough. And they don’t even need to fight. They just have to stand in a line, and those Goblins and Kobolds will be scared to death. Then we’ll drive the Goblins and Kobolds on the outskirts into Little Calf Village. With so many of them crammed inside the fortified village, they’ll be squashed flat. How will they throw stones then?”

Margaret asked no more questions; she had accepted Roland’s plan. Everyone dispersed to prepare for the assault on Little Calf Village.

As good as her word, Roland returned to the vicinity of her campaign tent, had someone bring her a quill, ink, and a lambskin letter, and sat down on the ground, leaning against her mount, Golden Fleece, to pen a short letter to Siegfried.

Victor walked over. She glanced up at him, then handed the finished letter to an attendant, instructing, “Send this letter with one of the white-feathered messenger ravens provided by the Friedrich Imperial Family… The rest of you, withdraw. Don’t let anyone eavesdrop on my conversation with my favorite student.”

The retainers took the letter and bowed as they withdrew, and everyone else also moved away. Victor asked in a low voice, “The Dragon-blooded Kobold… are you catching it for Master Tofwen?”

Roland rose to her full height, removed her ornate, heavy pauldrons, and stretched. Raising her willow-like brows, she said, “Not necessarily… Perhaps it’s for my dwarf jester… In any case, it’s not for you.”

She made a cute face at Victor, hiding the fact that she didn’t mean what she said.

Tofwen the Wizard had lived for over a hundred years by altering his own bloodline, so the Dragon’s Blood Potion would have a negligible effect on him. In fact, the potion wouldn’t be much use to Father Miller either, but it would be very valuable for Lilia and Imosen. Victor was willing to spend three hundred thousand Gold Sols for them. Just as Roland was insistent on capturing a rare Dragon-blooded Kobold for Tofwen—a gift that would surely delight the old wizard who had spent his life studying Potion-making—Victor understood the sentiment. Still, to see Roland actually charm the Crown Prince Siegfried, a courtesy Victor himself had never received, made his mood inexplicably heavy.

Perhaps… she looks so much like Catherine. And my daughter with Catherine… she must have been born by now, right?

Roland bit her quill, her eyes fixed on Victor’s deep gaze. Suddenly, she asked with a flirtatious laugh, “My student, you aren’t jealous of the Sasan Crown Prince, are you?”

Victor glanced coolly at the beaming princess and said with a gentle smile, “I suddenly find myself missing… many people. And this war has also suddenly become more meaningful.”

Chapter 626: The Sasan Militia’s First Battle

To Victor’s surprise, the Sasan Empire’s ability to mobilize and organize was outstanding. On the third day after Roland sent out her messenger raven, a host of over four thousand men—three thousand five hundred garrison militia and eight hundred cavalry, led by Siegfried Friedrich in person—arrived in a grand procession at the vanguard’s temporary settlement.

Zieg entered the camp with two High-ranked Knights to greet Victor and Roland. After they exchanged pleasantries, the Sasan Crown Prince, clad in a full suit of Adamantine armor, let out a breath and said enthusiastically, “We received the princess’s summons, gathered the garrison militia in two days, set out on the second night, and marched with all haste. We’ve arrived in time, hopefully without delaying Your Highnesses.”

Roland’s emerald eyes, full of suspicion, swept over the Sasan militia who were busy setting up camp and resting outside.

The Sasan cavalry was well-equipped, their chainmail covered by cloth emblazoned with a snow wolf sigil; they were likely Siegfried’s Guard Cavalry. The garrison militia were all clad in leather armor, armed with 3.2-meter-long wooden spears, round shields, hand axes, and hunting bows. They were stocky and moved with agility. Pitching camp, fetching water, and cooking were all done in a well-defined, orderly manner, clearly the result of long-term professional military training.

After a forced march of fifty kilometers, an ordinary able-bodied man would be at the limits of his physical and mental endurance, his legs as heavy as lead and his lungs burning, wishing for death. To march eighty kilometers overnight in full gear and still retain basic mobility was the difference between an elite soldier and an ordinary person.

The physical conditioning and military proficiency of the Sasan militia were not much different from that of an ordinary vassal soldier from the Gambis Kingdom. The three thousand five hundred fully-armed garrison militia Zieg had brought were clearly vassal infantry… Roland suspected he was here to snatch war trophies.

She looked Siegfried up and down, a faint smile on her face as she asked, “You’re going to fight too?”

Princess Auguste’s pure smile sent a thrill through Zieg, and he nodded without thinking. “It is my honor to fight alongside you two esteemed Highnesses.”

Roland’s bright expression instantly turned cold. “I only asked you to bring two thousand men to make a show of force,” she said, displeased. “I never said I wanted you to fight.”

The Gold Knight’s sudden change in demeanor sent a chill through the Sasan Crown Prince, leaving him at a total loss for what to say.

A Silver Knight of the Sasan royal family interjected to smooth things over, saying respectfully, “Your Highness Auguste, it is our undeniable duty to participate in the battle to annihilate the beastmen invaders. This is also to reduce the pressure and casualties for the Gambis vanguard. At the very least, we are familiar with the habits of Goblins.”

“Oh… I’m listening.” Roland nodded, her eyes deep and a faint smile on her lips. “What’s the difference between the Goblins of the Sasan Empire and the Goblins of the Gambis Kingdom?”

“They should be the same,” the Silver Knight said with a nod and a smile, then his tone shifted. “However, I’m afraid the Gambis Kingdom doesn’t have a Goblin population that exceeds ten thousand.”

“Your Highness Randell, Your Highness Auguste. Goblins are the most intelligent of the beastmen. I can assure you, once this horde is cornered, they won’t just entrench themselves in Little Calf Village. Under the Hobgoblins’ command, they will mount a mass charge against their enemy. The Hobgoblins know full well that Goblins can’t outrun most pursuers, but with their numerical advantage, they can overwhelm an enemy’s line head-on.”

“A large Goblin clan of over ten thousand won’t collapse so easily. They will definitely face their enemies head-on. Only devastating casualties will make them feel fear.” The Silver Knight’s lips curled.

“We have plenty of experience fighting Goblins.”

Victor and Roland looked at each other. Gambis truly had no Goblin populations numbering close to ten thousand. He pondered for a moment before humbly asking, “Your Highness Friedrich, what method do you plan to use against this… Goblin horde?”

Zieg’s spirits lifted, and he declared loudly, “A large Goblin clan will not surrender easily. When they encounter invaders, they will certainly gather their kin and attack as a group, and they will seek a pitched battle with the largest enemy force… The Princess’s request for two thousand militia to intimidate them would be ineffective against such a tribe. Two thousand Sasan militia would not be able to stop a Goblin tide, especially one that contains a considerable number of Bugbears and some Ogre bodyguards.”

He paused, then continued, “I brought three thousand five hundred militiamen. We will choose a suitable location and form a dense defensive formation. As soon as the Hobgoblins see our militia, they will rally their underlings and take the initiative to attack our defensive line. The militia will hold their ground, waiting at ease for an exhausted enemy. When the Goblins are halfway through their charge, we will lead the cavalry in a flanking maneuver to cut the Goblin tide in two. Once they lose this battle, the surviving Goblins will have no choice but to flee.”

The Frederick family’s Silver Knight added, “Your Highnesses, we noticed the Goblin tribe occupying Little Calf Village two months ago… Due to their vast numbers and wide distribution, our scouts were never able to identify the horde’s leader… An infantry phalanx facing a Goblin tide is most vulnerable to a charge from berserk Ogres or an Ogre Warlord, which is why Duke Baselius decided to leave Little Calf Village alone for the time being.”

“Now that the Gambis vanguard has His Highness Randell to conduct reconnaissance, you must have already grasped the situation in Little Calf Village. That’s why we brought three thousand five hundred militiamen to assist Your Highnesses in retaking it,” the Silver Knight said flatteringly.

Victor hadn’t been idle these past two days either; he had used Nemesis to kill several Ogres from a distance. The Hobgoblins’ Ogre bodyguards were weaker than their wild counterparts; only lone, wandering Ogres would accept being kept by Hobgoblins. When their companions were mysteriously torn to pieces, the Ogre bodyguards were terrified. They fled Little Calf Village in droves, ultimately ending up as war trophies for the silver female knights of Gambis.

The heads of the Ogre bodyguards were displayed in the temporary camp, a sight the Frederick family’s Silver Knights had clearly noted. Since the Frederick Crown Prince had come in person, Victor saw no need for secrecy. He nodded and said, “The leader of this beastman horde is a Silver-rank Dragon-blooded Kobold.”

“It’s my war trophy. Don’t even think about it!” Roland added fiercely.

The two Silver Knights from the Frederick family had their eyes light up. Siegfried gasped, a complex mix of annoyance and schadenfreude flashing across his face before he quickly composed himself with his Aura.

If they had known earlier that a Silver-rank Dragon-blooded Kobold was hidden in Little Calf Village, Patriarch Flidis would have also mobilized his forces to capture it alive. But even if Sasan scouts had discovered the Silver-rank Kobold, it wouldn’t have been the Frederick family’s turn; Duke Baselius would have certainly taken action himself.

The Crown Prince’s emotional shift did not escape the Gold Knight’s Perception. The Frederick family’s Silver Knight cleared his throat and said with a smile, “Esteemed Your Highness Randell and Your Highness Auguste, the Silver-rank Dragon-blooded Kobold is, of course, your war trophy. All the beastman spoils from Little Calf Village belong to the Gambis vanguard… After we annihilate this beastman horde, we will immediately mobilize another fifteen thousand able-bodied men to harvest the nearby green wheat and repair the Little Calf Village barracks. We will strive to complete the scorched-earth policy in the shortest possible time and incorporate the Little Calf Village barracks into the Duncan Fortress war zone.”

Victor said thoughtfully, “Your Excellency Urgon Friedrich, I have a question… Are the men you brought truly Sasan militia?”

The Silver Knight was taken aback for a moment, then replied, “Of course… The Sasan Empire has a large population and abundant food. Our subjects have ample time to receive the same military training as vassal soldiers, and their diet is not much different from that of regular vassal soldiers. After all, the Sasan Empire is in a constant state of readiness for war. Our subjects are always prepared to fight beastmen, while farm work on the fiefs is generally left to refugee workers. You could say that our Sasan Empire’s militia are no less capable than the vassal soldiers of the Dodor Kingdom; they just lack the equipment of a regular army.”

It was a proven fact that those who ate meat and drank milk in their youth grew taller and stronger than those who did not, and children who ate egg yolks were smarter than those who didn’t. The Sasan Empire produced two harvests of green wheat a year. With abundant grain, they could not only meet the needs of the populace but also raise cattle and sheep. Ten years ago, Sasan had declared a population of four point eight million registered subjects. Today, a decade later, Sasan had five point eight million registered subjects, an increase of a full one million. The refugee population was two to three times that of the registered subjects, bringing the Sasan Empire’s total population to nearly twenty million. On average, three refugees supported one registered subject. After accounting for the old, weak, women, and children among the subjects who could not undergo training, it was equivalent to ten people supporting a single Sasan warrior. They had enough time and vigor to train their bodies and focus on practicing combat techniques.

The new agropastoral system Victor had created was the first to bear rich fruit in the Sasan Empire.

The fertile red soil and superior natural conditions of the Northern Wildlands were something the southern kingdoms could only envy.

“That’s good, then.” Roland nodded and said, “I have a question, too. Will the Dragon-blooded Kobold leader charge with the Goblins?”

The Silver Knight hesitated for a moment before shaking his head. “It’s unlikely. Dragon-blooded Kobolds are typical misers; they rarely leave their territory.”

A thought stirred in Victor’s mind, and he asked calmly, “Then what brought this Kobold leader to Little Calf Village?”

Hearing this, the Silver Knight knew His Highness Randell was already suspicious. He smiled and explained, “There might be a gold ore vein beneath Little Calf Village… or perhaps Mithril. Kobolds are skilled at finding treasure. What exactly lies beneath Little Calf Village will depend on luck.”

Siegfried took a deep breath, his expression serene as he asked, “When will we attack Little Calf Village?”

Roland rested her hand on her sword’s hilt. “Let the soldiers eat and drink their fill, get a good night’s sleep. At dawn tomorrow, we attack Little Calf Village!”

At dawn the next day, as the first rays of sunlight broke through the dark violet sky, thousands of soldiers, cloaked in dew, appeared on the outskirts of Little Calf Village. The rustle of their footsteps startled the Goblins sleeping by the wheat fields. Seeing the seemingly endless human army, they shrieked and ran towards the fortified village.

The Sasan militia ignored the chaotic Goblins and advanced steadily, only stopping when they were eight hundred meters from Little Calf Village. They spread out, each man a meter apart, making their ranks seem even larger. More than a thousand cavalrymen moved to a position one kilometer to the right and formed up in a tight charge formation, which looked much smaller than the infantry line.

The silent, solemn human army stood in stark contrast to the noisy, chaotic beastmen in Little Calf Village. But after the crack of Hobgoblin whips, the tearing bites of Bugbears, and the screams of Goblin slaves, a semblance of order gradually returned to the beastmen of Little Calf Village. Only the piercing shrieks of the Hobgoblins remained, followed by a series of roars from the Goblins, each louder than the last.

A fanatical atmosphere began to brew and rise in Little Calf Village, carried on the increasingly unified shouts.

Victor, mounted on a Swiftbird, gazed at the beastman tribe from a distance and remarked, “I didn’t expect Hobgoblins to be capable of organizing an army and boosting morale.”

“See it? Did you see the Dragon-blooded Kobold leader?” Roland stood atop the Golden Fleece, her green eyes wide as she nervously scanned for any sign of the Dragon-blooded Kobold, terrified that her designated war trophy would charge out with the other beastmen. If that happened, Victor would have to kill it prematurely to prevent it from inflicting heavy casualties on the Sasan militia.

Victor smiled and shook his head. “Three hundred and forty-five Bugbears, seven Hobgoblins, forty-four ordinary Dragon-blooded Kobolds, but no Kobold leader… Earl Urgon’s experience was correct. Silver-rank Dragon-blooded Kobolds have the same temperament as the legendary Dragons: they collect treasure and guard their lairs to the death… After all, they were originally the watchdogs of Dragons.”

“I wonder… what role did Goblins play in ancient times?”

Victor’s mind wandered. He remembered the large number of Goblins he was raising in the Great Marsh. By now, their numbers must be close to fifty thousand, right? Although Imosen had divided them into different clans of seven thousand to make them fight amongst themselves, the Half-dragons guarding them were not good slave masters. They preferred to eat fish, not Goblins. If those Goblins ever joined forces with the marsh Ogres, it would be a real mess.

Fortunately, the Ant-man tide could take care of them.

“It’s about to start,” Roland said, her expression excited. “Let’s see just what a Goblin tide looks like.”

The Goblins and Kobolds, their bloodlust stoked, shrieked madly. The Hobgoblins could no longer restrain them. Like an endless flood, the Goblins and Kobolds poured out from the higher ground of Little Calf Village, surging towards the Sasan militia’s battle line.

As expected, they chose to overwhelm the larger target. It was also possible the Hobgoblins knew their underlings couldn’t catch the mounted humans, and that once the Goblin tide scattered in pursuit, it would be impossible to rally.

The Goblins and Kobolds advanced, their pace quickening. From a distance, the sickly green mass looked like a ghastly dark cloud sweeping across the land. They held crude weapons, their faces vicious, their expressions crazed, and their meaningless, savage roars coalesced into an aura of barbaric ferocity.

Six hundred meters, five hundred meters, four hundred meters… The Sasan Empire’s garrison militia still maintained their loose formation. Victor could see sweat mixed with dew trickling down the young soldiers’ faces. They gripped their upright spears, their fingers pale and bloodless from the tense grip. But the heavily armored knights in the front rank and the priests in the rear gave the young soldiers infinite courage, allowing them to remain calm in the face of the surging Goblin tide.

Three hundred meters! The Goblin tide began to accelerate…

“Form line!”

At the Knight’s command, one long and one short horn blast echoed across the battlefield. The Sasan militia instantly converged, their shields locking together. They lowered their stances into a lunge, and the forest of spears pointing skyward snapped forward, their gleaming tips projecting a coldness that seemed to pierce one’s very soul.

Seeing the enemy’s formation shrink, seemingly halving their numbers, the Goblins shrieked in glee and charged with all their might.

An army of ten thousand stretched as far as the eye could see. Only one who had witnessed pre-modern warfare firsthand could feel that tremor originating from deep within the soul. Goblins and Kobolds might seem weak, but once their numbers reached a certain scale, they could challenge any opponent head-on.

Victor had been tempered by the Ant-man war, had witnessed the shocking sight of a sky-blotting Ant-man tide surging forward. Even someone like Sylvia would have found it difficult to escape if she were surrounded by the Ant-man army. A colossal Hydra Lizard would dive to the bottom of a lake during an Ant-man plague, not daring to show itself to them.

Ant-men were not normal living creatures. Victor had no doubt that the death-fearing Ant-men could overwhelm any land creature through sheer numbers. But Goblins and Kobolds feared death. At this moment, however, the death-fearing beastmen could only continue their “fearless” charge.

The Goblins in the front ranks were terrified by the gleaming phalanx of spears and scattered in panic, only to be immediately trodden underfoot by the Goblins behind them. One stepped over, then two, then a whole group, until not even a shadow of them remained.

The Goblins in the front were not the first to die. A volley of arrows rained down from the rear ranks of the militia, felling a swath of Goblins in the middle of the charge. The gap in the tide was instantly filled by those pressing on from behind.

At this point, there was no choice but to charge forward, to crush the opponent, to drown them.

Retreat? Flee? Play dead?

On the battlefield, no one should entertain such naive thoughts. Every soldier is merely a part of the whole, and the whole does not care for the thoughts of the individual.

Goblins feared death, but they also had wisdom. The Hobgoblins had positioned the Bugbears in the middle and rear of the formation. The Goblins charging at the front were all cannon fodder, their bodies and lives forming a bloody staircase to victory for the clan’s core strength. The garrison militia’s spear phalanx mechanically thrust, and thrust again. A pierced Goblin would scream and grasp the blood-soaked spear in its death throes, only to be used as a shield by the Goblins pushing from behind. If a militia’s spear was weighted down with two Goblin corpses, they would find it difficult to handle. And the strength of a Bugbear was enough to skewer three or four Goblin corpses onto a single spear.

That was not all.

The Hobgoblins were at the rear of the charging tide, hidden among the Goblin slingers. Whether or not the Bugbears broke through the human battle line, as soon as the humans entered the slingers’ range, they would taste a hailstorm of stones.

The Kobolds were slower but strong, their sharp, sturdy claws capable of tearing through a human soldier’s chainmail. They were at the very back of the charging column, the Hobgoblins’ final trump card.

Once the main force of the Goblins crashed into the militia’s line, the situation would become perilous. Over three hundred Bugbears could overwhelm the heavily armored knights at the front in one go. With no room to maneuver, a Knight’s combat techniques, no matter how masterful, would be useless.

The cavalry, which had been holding back, finally moved.

The ninety armored Swift Dragons let out a deep roar. Their six powerful claws pounded the ground as their massive bodies crashed with unstoppable force into the middle of the Goblin tide, right where the Bugbears were. The four Earth Knights and Narsen formed a wedge and charged at the very front, a sharp knife that tore a great hole in the Goblin tide. A thousand cavalrymen with lances drawn followed close behind, ripping the gash created by the extraordinary powerhouses and their war beasts into an even wider maw.

The iron hooves of the cavalry shook the earth. Narsen couldn’t even swing his beloved Beheading Adamantine Greatsword; he only needed to follow the example of the six-legged Swift Dragons and ram through with all his might. Bugbears and Goblins were sent flying before the powerful charge. When the resistance in front of Narsen suddenly vanished, the cavalry unit had already pierced through the Goblin’s charge formation.

The Goblin tide was cut in two.

The great collapse came, just as expected.

During the charge, they were compelled by circumstances; during the rout, it was the same.

Victor had never understood how, in the history of pre-modern warfare on Earth, massive battles involving hundreds of thousands of soldiers could be decided in a single engagement, with one side utterly defeated and suffering countless casualties, while the victor annihilated an army of hundreds of thousands.

Even if hundreds of thousands of people stood still and let the enemy kill them, it would take several days. How could they all be gone in an instant?

This battle was a perfect illustration of the saying: a rout is like a landslide.

With the main force of Bugbears trampled by the human cavalry, the Goblin tide immediately recoiled. The unscathed Kobolds at the rear were still pushing forward, only to be trampled into paste by the fleeing Goblins. They too had no choice but to turn and flee.

The cavalry turned their mounts and pursued from behind. The garrison militia advanced steadily with their shields raised. The Swiftbird light cavalry outflanked them, shooting down Goblins trying to escape from the sides and forcing them back into the spear phalanx.

When the enemy shows you his back, he can’t hurt you with his ass.

The garrison militia’s line lengthened, gradually encircling the Goblins ahead. Spears thrust in and out, ruthlessly reaping lives and screams.

So, the human kingdoms did have infantry phalanxes; it was just that Gambis didn’t have a Goblin tide.

“A victory, and a beautiful one at that.”

After offering her commentary, Roland impatiently pressed Victor, “Is that Silver Kobold still in its lair?”

Victor smiled faintly. Nemesis had locked onto the Kobold leader’s position. He nodded. “It’s still in Little Calf Village.”

Roland gathered her platinum-blonde hair, put on her Mithril helmet, and said with great enthusiasm,

“Let’s go! We’ll see what kind of treasure the kobold has dug up in Little Calf Village that it’s willing to die defending its lair for.”

Chapter 627: The Marvelous Crystal

On the battlefield, the Goblins and beastmen scattered and fled, with no chance of turning the tide. The human army’s victory was assured, so there was no need for the two Highnesses to provide support. Victor and Roland led the three high-ranking female knights of Gambis and several dozen Personal Guards directly to Little Calf Village to capture the Kobold leader.

Little Calf Village was built on a rocky highland, overlooking the surrounding fields. It was now unrecognizable after the destructive modifications made by the Goblins and Kobolds; it now more closely resembled a lair. The village’s stockade walls and houses had been razed to accommodate more beastmen. The Goblins had used the dismantled wood and stone to build numerous low, winding walls to divide the area. Only eleven abandoned arrow towers and a few intact storehouses silently indicated that this had once been a large human settlement.

Walking into the center of the beastman lair, Victor found it surprisingly clean. Goblin tribes had a knack for collecting feces to make compost for farming, but they couldn’t change the beastmen’s habit of relieving themselves wherever they pleased. The air was filled with a stench of ammonia and filth that most people would find unbearable.

None of the retainers assisting in the capture of the Kobold leader were ordinary people. Even the weakest among them, the young apprentice knights from the House of Randell, were not about to be knocked unconscious by the foul smell. However, Caligula, hunched over and tiptoeing along the low walls like a snake, his cautious expression of someone who didn’t dare breathe loudly, was an amusing sight.

Little Calf Village had originally housed a considerable number of female Goblins and their young. When the Goblins were defeated, they had all fled, leaving only a few scattered beastmen lurking in the lair, mainly the Kobold leader’s clan guards.

Some creatures possess an aura more powerful than their actual strength, and Dragons are a prime example. They are not necessarily stronger than white apes or nine-headed hydras, but their Dragon’s Might is like a tangible spiritual power that can crush the minds of most living beings. Certain units in the Alchemy Tower possess an innate immunity to soul-based intimidation, such as Dragon Warriors and Savi Warriors. Victor guessed that among the enemies who had invaded the Alchemical Empire were high-level beings like Dragons, who used soul intimidation as a method of attack. The ancient Alchemists had been forced to design combat units immune to it.

From this, one could deduce the extraordinary nature of a Dragon’s Might.

Legend had it that Dragons mated with some unknown creature to birth Kobolds as their servants. In any case, ancient texts depicted Dragons as having no sense of propriety whatsoever. In short, it was certain that Kobolds were a Dragon-blooded sapient species. Dragon-blooded Kobolds possessed a sliver of Dragon’s Might; even their feces could startle sensitive and suspicious feline predators. However, their combat strength did not match their ferocious aura.

Kobolds were quite strong, and Dragon-blooded Kobolds possessed strength comparable to an initial-rank Knight. But while they had the physical qualities of a creature in a Savage state, they lacked the corresponding mindset. It was like a blacksmith holding a sword of Mithril and Adamantine—he was still just a blacksmith, incapable of unleashing the blade’s extraordinary properties.

Caligula’s psychic intuition was even sharper than a spotted tiger’s. He sensed the Dragon’s Might in the air that others couldn’t, and he became extremely cautious. His enormous body moved like a great cat on the prowl, silent and ready to bristle at a moment’s notice.

Aka was timid as a mouse, but his skills were extraordinary; he could take down an ordinary Dragon-blooded Kobold with one hand. Dragon-blooded Kobolds, on the other hand, were all bark and no bite. Wasn’t this the perfect opportunity to build Caligula’s courage?

A flicker of an idea crossed Victor’s mind. He leaped onto a low wall, closed his eyes, and listened intently for a moment. Then he jumped back down, called his retainers over, and gave his orders:

“There are still sixty-eight Dragon-blooded Kobolds and about two hundred smaller monsters in Little Calf Village. This lair has complex terrain, and they’re hidden in concealed corners, scattered about. I want all the Dragon-blooded Kobolds captured alive. Kill the Goblins and regular Kobolds… Aka, you take two Elite Guards and go west. I want you to personally capture at least five Dragon-blooded Kobolds alive.”

The big guy and two Griffin Militiamen headed west. He was still hugging the base of the wall, taking small, shuffling steps, glancing back at Victor every three steps, hoping his Master would take pity and call him back. This caused the little attendant knights to stifle their laughter.

“Charlotte, you go west as well. There are twenty-two Dragon-blooded Kobolds there. Be careful,” Victor said, turning his head.

“Ah? Oh… as you wish, my Master.”

Charlotte, with her ear-length golden hair, froze for a second before her gentle smile vanished. She performed a crisp Knight’s salute and led three secretly excited young apprentice knights after Caligula.

Feeling a little uneasy, Victor sent all eight of his Alchemical warriors with them. Every naturally awakened apprentice knight was precious to the House of Randell. War could temper their will, build their sense of honor, and strengthen their bond with their master. Victor gave them opportunities to train, but he also had to minimize the risk of death or injury.

“My lord Earl, your thoughtfulness towards your Sworn Knight is truly enviable… If Caligula gets some proper training, he might actually be worthy of a Highness’s status.” Raging Wave Knight Skully Joshua covered her mouth with a delicate laugh as she teased Victor.

She was Katerina’s, Lady York’s, paternal aunt, possessed the bloodline of the August family, and was a female knight with a romantic disposition.

With Katerina as a connection, Skully was closer to Victor and often flirted with the young Gold-Eyed Earl. Her underlying meaning was that Charlotte Randell was not worthy of being the Gold-Eyed Earl’s Sworn Knight, whereas Caligula was a much better fit.

Charlotte had taken the Gold Potion and had already resonated with twenty-four Elemental Nodes, becoming a Bronze-rank senior knight. She was more than qualified to be Victor’s Sworn Knight. However, the Gold Potion was a matter of great importance, and the high-ranking knights from the three great families of Joshua, Nim, and Chapman were unaware of it.

Victor smiled and changed the subject. “There are thirteen Dragon-blooded Kobolds to the east, thirteen to the south, twelve to the north, and four with the Kobold leader.”

A single live Dragon-blooded Kobold could be exchanged with the Church for three slots to reforge one’s body. No one would complain about having too many Mystic Warriors in their family.

Margaret was the first to speak. “The Wellington family will take the east.”

“The south can go to the Joshuas.”

“Then the Nim family will have to take the north.”

“You go help capture the Dragon-blooded Kobolds as well,” Roland ordered her own retainer knights. Then, pointing to the storehouse in the center of the lair, her eyes sparkling, she said, “We’ll go there and capture the Kobold leader… You don’t need to do anything. I’ll catch it myself.”

The knights and Mystic Warriors from the various families dispersed, while Victor’s group headed for the Kobold leader’s lair.

Little Calf Village had, after all, been a large settlement capable of housing several thousand people. The low walls built by the Goblins and Kobolds were winding and labyrinthine. The warriors of the various families were scattered within, unable to see each other, let alone provide timely support.

The Personal Guards of the House of Randell formed a single file line between the narrow low walls to leave room to maneuver. Brandon, holding a round shield inlaid with red copper armor in one hand and a sharp Adamantine longsword in the other, slid his war boots lightly across the ground as he walked at the very front of the line.

Dragon-blooded Kobolds were not agile monsters. They excelled at hunting prey through stealthy ambushes and setting traps, so the complex low walls and obstacles of Little Calf Village were surely no accident. Brandon was confident in his skills, but he also firmly remembered Narsen’s teachings:

Even when facing a single Goblin, you must not be careless… Focus, vigilance, and unity will save your life, and the lives of your comrades.

Brandon took the initiative to volunteer as the vanguard of the group. He wanted to be the first apprentice knight to capture a Dragon-blooded Kobold, so he had to be extra cautious.

The story of Lady Nicole pursuing the Old Ogre as an apprentice knight had always been an inspiration to Brandon.

A valiant knight should strive for his own glory!

“Brandon… Brandon…” a faint call reached Brandon’s ears.

…The big guy?!

Brandon raised his longsword, signaling for his companions behind him to halt. Without looking back, he said coolly, “Speak!”

Caligula, crouching on the ground and following closely behind Charlotte, said in a hushed tone, “Brandon… Aka wants to tell you, there’s a Kobold monster… right ahead, behind the left wall… it’s looking at Brandon, wants to eat Brandon’s flesh…”

“Leave it to me! I can handle it!”

Brandon no longer concealed his movements. He picked up a fist-sized rock from the ground, channeled his Aura, and hurled it at the low wall to his front left.

The rock blew a hole in the low wall. Brandon clashed his sword and shield together, and amid the clang, he shouted, “Come out, monster! I’m going to cut off your head and personally make it into a specimen to hang on my wall as a war trophy!”

“Um… the Master wants the Dragon-blooded Kobolds alive,” the little knight Klaus reminded him from behind.

“Uh… I’m going to chop off your hands and feet and offer you to my Master…” Brandon paused, then turned his head and asked with a puzzled look, “Can’t I keep its head? This is the first monster I’ve ever captured in my life.”

“Let me first remind you that right now, you only have a sword and shield, you haven’t captured any monster,” Klaus said quickly. “I think the Master will let you keep its tail.”

“My heavens! A Kobold’s tail is like a rat’s tail… Fine, it’s better than nothing,” Brandon grumbled.

Suddenly, the low walls on both sides in front of them collapsed and burst apart. Flying debris and wood kicked up a cloud of dust, and a dozen unusually strong Kobolds blocked their path.

An ordinary Kobold was about the size of a Goblin, but a Dragon-blooded Kobold was three times their size, its body a full circle thicker than an ordinary soldier’s. They crouched on the ground, slowly advancing, their bulging muscles visible beneath their greyish-white fur. Their abdomens and backs were covered in brown scales. They had lizard-like heads with vertical yellow pupils, and when they opened their mouths to reveal sharp, snow-white fangs, they let out dog-like barks, spitting sparks and blue smoke, appearing exceptionally fierce and malevolent.

Brandon’s face changed drastically. He let out a strange cry, assumed a defensive stance, and yelled, “One, two, three, four… eleven Dragon-blooded Kobolds! Aka… didn’t you say there was only one?”

Caligula’s aggrieved voice came from behind, “Brandon didn’t let Aka finish talking.”

“Brandon, Klaus, Jayne, fall back. Elite Guards, forward with me…” Charlotte drew her longsword, her toes lightly tapping the top of a low wall as she landed in front of Brandon.

All eleven Dragon-blooded Kobolds were immensely strong. Even for a senior knight like her, capturing so many monsters alive would be difficult. The apprentice knights would have trouble just protecting themselves.

“My Lady, let us try,” Klaus said, holding his sword, his handsome, youthful face filled with determination and sincerity.

The Alchemical warriors broke through the low walls and surrounded them in a fan formation, facing off against the baring-fanged Dragon-blooded Kobolds. Charlotte hesitated for a moment, then stepped aside, instructing, “Be careful. Don’t be reckless.”

“Klaus, whatever plan you have, use it now. Jayne and I will protect you,” Brandon said loudly.

The youngest apprentice knight, Jayne, puffed out his chest upon hearing this, holding his shield and standing guard beside them.

Klaus took two steps forward, stuck his Adamantine longsword into the ground, untied the bulging coin pouch from his waist, and took out a handful of bright red Copper Sols, flinging them out to the left and right with all his might.

The Dragon-blooded Kobolds immediately stopped advancing. Their gazes followed the copper coins glinting in the sunlight, and they became visibly hesitant, as if they wanted to go pick them up. They looked at each other, then huddled together again, barking loudly as they pressed forward.

“Klaus, what kind of god-damned idea is this? Are you trying to bribe monsters with copper coins?”

Brandon was on the verge of tears from anxiety, but he still held his ground beside Klaus.

Klaus picked up his longsword and swung it in a nervous flourish, thinking hesitantly: Was the knowledge taught by Priest Fero at the school for general education wrong? You really can’t trust everything a scholar says… How could a monster be bribed with human coin? I… am so stupid.

“Fall back! Elite Guards, toss me the long-handled heavy hammer.”

Charlotte abandoned her sword and shield, catching the refined iron heavy hammer thrown to her by an Alchemical warrior with one hand. The Dragon-blooded Kobolds had formed a tight formation, making it dangerous to try and sever their legs with a longsword. Now she would just have to use a heavy weapon to smash them apart; capturing all of them alive was likely impossible.

Klaus obeyed the command and retreated dejectedly, but Brandon stayed put, refusing to budge. He suddenly caught a glimpse of the big oaf peering around.

Strangely enough, after Klaus had scattered the copper coins, Caligula, who had been slinking like a snake, stood up straight and even moved closer to observe the Dragon-blooded Kobolds with curiosity.

A flash of inspiration struck Brandon’s mind, and he roared, “Aka, scare them!”

Scare them? Aka was the best at scaring people… Caligula, like a giant, puffed out his chest, hefted his magnificent two-handed heavy hammer, and strode forward, roaring at the Dragon-blooded Kobolds.

“RAH!”

The sound wave, like a clap of rolling thunder, spread throughout Little Calf Village, startling all the small monsters out of their hiding places. The advancing Dragon-blooded Kobolds were so frightened they scattered and fled, but they ran towards the areas on the left and right where the copper coins lay.

Brandon was quick-witted. He dashed forward, catching up to a lagging Dragon-blooded Kobold. He smashed its head with his shield, knocking it flat on the ground, then stomped on its head and swung his Adamantine longsword to sever its four limbs. The entire sequence of movements was fluid and clean.

“Haha, I’m the first to capture a Dragon-blooded Kobold!”

Brandon laughed joyfully. His hands moved nimbly as he pulled out an ox tendon. While tying up the Dragon-blooded Kobold’s mouth, he asked, “Klaus, how did you come up with that idea?”

Klaus glanced thoughtfully at Caligula and said, “Before I came, I specifically went to the school for general education to ask the priests about monsters… Although they teach monsterology in class, I figured they must have some practical experience, whether it’s true or not, it might be useful to us. You know, they are particularly fond of Bel, so I used three months of my allowance to have Bel ask each of them… Priest Fero told Bel that if we encounter Dragon-blooded Kobolds, we can throw a handful of coin to attract them and then take the opportunity to escape.”

“Klaus, your mind is like a honeycomb.” Brandon stood over his war trophy, laughing triumphantly. “Thanks to you, I’m the first to capture a Dragon-blooded Kobold alive. I’ll share half of my Master’s reward with you.”

Charlotte looked at the Dragon-blooded Kobolds picking up copper coins in the distance, then turned back and asked, “Brandon, how did you know Aka could scare the Dragon-blooded Kobolds?”

Brandon saw the terrifyingly heavy refined iron hammer in Charlotte’s hand, a trace of yearning in his eyes. He kicked away the limbless Kobold captive, gave a Knight’s salute, and said respectfully, “My Lady, it was just a flash of inspiration. I wasn’t sure Aka could roar them away, but Aka suddenly stopped being afraid. That meant these Kobolds were just trying to scare us off so they could go pick up the copper coins. So, I had Aka shout to give it a try.”

Charlotte smiled faintly and praised, “You boys are really something… Jayne’s performance was also excellent; you didn’t disgrace the Master’s name.”

Jayne, who had just turned fourteen, blushed and gave Charlotte a Knight’s salute.

“Aka, when you’re not afraid of the enemy, the enemy is afraid of you. Isn’t that right?” Charlotte turned and asked gently.

Caligula nodded vigorously and said in a booming voice, “Aka not afraid of Kobolds. Kobolds afraid of Aka. Kobolds want to eat Aka’s meat, Aka throws money, then scares it, catches it.”

The little knights burst out laughing. Charlotte gently touched her forehead, suppressing a laugh. “Alright… let’s proceed like this for now.”

Having found a way to deal with the Dragon-blooded Kobolds, the Randell Personal Guards advanced much more quickly. Caligula could easily find the hiding Dragon-blooded Kobolds. He’d toss out a handful of copper coins, let out a ferocious roar, and then grab the Kobolds that tried to pick up the money, twisting off their limbs with a practiced ease, as if he were catching fat pigs.

Caligula’s continuous roars alerted many people and monsters. The Personal Guards from the other families all sent men to investigate. When they entered the large warehouse where the last of the Kobolds were hiding, Charlotte and the little knights couldn’t help but gasp ‘Wow!’ and stare dumbfounded at the astonishing scene.

As the big oaf’s imposing shouts drew closer and closer to the western warehouse, Roland’s battle with the Kobold leader also took a turn.

“Boom”

A scorching ball of fire shot from the ceiling of the warehouse towards Roland. She brandished the seven-meter-long Mithril whip in her hand. The green glow of the void water element, like tangible water ripples and an intangible rainbow, turned into a misty vortex with the whip’s movement. The fireballs, hot enough to melt gold and iron, fell into the vortex and were extinguished without a sound, not even a wisp of smoke rising.

The Water Sprite’s Sigh, Auroxia’s weapon, was a long whip woven from threads of Mithril and Adamantine. The ringed crossguard on its hilt had no religious significance; it was merely there to house a pure water element crystal.

An element crystal is the material manifestation of a void element, containing its power. For a Silver Knight, the power within an element crystal is an external force that would disrupt their perfect balance. Only Gold Knights could borrow the power of an element crystal, and even then, only with great difficulty. Unless absolutely necessary, they only used element crystals as decorations for their armor and weapons.

Legendary Knights could master element crystals. Sylvia could even activate the violent fire element crystal on her Rose War Lance. The princess of Baselius had one foot in the legendary realm; the water element crystal on the hilt of her whip was certainly no mere decoration.

The void water element possessed both the solidity of earth and the flow of wind, existing between the tangible and intangible. It not only had the properties of freezing, corroding, and dissolving, but also the sturdiness of the earth element and the sharp agility of the wind element.

In Auroxia’s hands, the Water Sprite’s Sigh was a whip, a sharp sword, a war lance, and a shield—a sigh of helplessness for her enemies. Only the top master blacksmiths of the Baselius family could draw threads from Mithril and Adamantine to forge this extraordinary whip, and in all the human kingdoms, only a handful of people could unleash its power.

Sylvia, Auroxia, and now, Roland had to be added to that list.

Roland had bestowed life upon this whip, making it an extension of her arm. Wherever her mind pointed, the whip would follow—a testament to her profound understanding of the Elemental Sea of water.

Without a doubt, she also had half a foot in the legendary realm.

Roland easily subdued the Kobold leader’s clan guards, and the dragon-blooded monster realized how powerful the invader was. It crawled onto the roof of the warehouse, looked down on her, and greeted its opponent with a breath of fire.

A Kobold’s leg joints were reversed, allowing them to run on all fours like Gnolls or Lizardmen, but they mainly used this posture to cling to steep cliffs, using their long, rat-like tails to search for crystals, zircons, and various gems in the crevices of the rock face.

The Kobold leader’s four-hundred-and-fifty-pound body moved nimbly on the roof eighteen meters above the ground. It dodged Roland’s leaping whip strikes while taunting and cursing her with rhythmically complex barks and human-like expressions. Every so often, it would spit a fireball, but it refused to come down for a decisive battle.

Roland could leap up to the ceiling, but the Kobold leader was waiting for her to do just that. It would take the opportunity to smash through the roof and escape outside.

With the Kobold leader’s speed, even if it got outside, it wouldn’t be able to escape Roland’s grasp. However, Roland was having a grand time with the rare opportunity to trade insults with a Dragon-blooded Kobold and was reluctant to catch it right away. As they cursed back and forth, Roland realized she couldn’t out-curse the yapping Kobold, and she vowed to personally drag it down from the ceiling.

And so, they remained at a stalemate.

As the frequency of Aka’s roars grew closer to the western warehouse, the Kobold leader became increasingly anxious. When it could no longer hear Aka’s shouts, it finally lost its nerve. It spat a ball of fire and charged for the roof.

A light shone in Roland’s eyes. Her delicate, half-heeled war boots tapped lightly on the ground, and she leaped into the air. The Water Sprite’s Sigh wrapped around the Kobold leader’s hind legs, slithering around its body like a spirit snake, and yanked the Silver Kobold, which had just broken through the roof, down from the rafters.

“Thud”

The Kobold’s two-point-four-meter-long body fell heavily to the ground. The whip, wrapped in a green glow, bound it tightly. A layer of white frost spread across its scale armor. Its violent struggles and desperate barks gradually turned into shivers, and it was finally frozen stiff.

The Auguste family’s Mystic Warriors came forward and properly bound the princess’s flash-frozen war trophy with Ogre sinew. Roland retracted the Water Sprite’s Sigh and walked gracefully towards the audience. With one hand on her hip, she pouted and said:

“I wanted to hear it speak a few words of Draconic. If I’d known it only knew how to bark, I would’ve caught it long ago.”

The battle priest’s gaze shifted, and he tried to keep a straight face; the high-ranking female knights from the Joshua and Nim families covered their mouths and snickered, while Margaret maintained her cool, indifferent expression.

You were one step away from barking like a dog yourself… Victor complained internally. Of course, he couldn’t say that out loud. His gaze shifted to the scorched hole in the warehouse floor.

“Whoever got close to this hole, the Kobold would breathe fire at them. It was willing to risk being killed by you just to stay on the roof, refusing to flee. There must be something good inside.”

“Send someone in to check,” Victor said, waving a hand behind him.

A Lithe Ape militiaman, holding a small shield and a crystal lantern, crawled into the tunnel dug by the Kobold. A long time passed, and he didn’t come back up. Victor could hear movement from within the pit and could confirm there was no fighting.

Everyone chatted and laughed, guessing what Riches lay in the pit. Just then, the Lithe Ape militiaman crawled out of the hole. His shield was slung over his back, a lantern was clamped in his mouth, and he held a gray egg in one hand and a bluish-white ore in the other.

“Mithril ore?! There’s really a Mithril mine down there!” the battle priest exclaimed in delight as he walked over, wanting to take the ore from the Lithe Ape militiaman’s hand to examine its quality. But the militiaman refused to let go. He could only retract his hand awkwardly. Then his eyes lit up again when he saw the gray egg. “The Silver Kobold is a female? This is its egg! How many more eggs are down there?”

“It’s too dark below, I didn’t count them carefully.” The Lithe Ape militiaman forced a fake smile and added, “I estimate no fewer than fifty.”

“Fifty, that’s wonderful…” The battle priest was overjoyed, holding the Dragon-blooded Kobold’s egg. At Victor’s signal, the Lithe Ape militiaman finally gave him the egg.

“They’re all mine,” Roland said, walking over and glaring at the battle priest.

The battle priest muttered under his breath, “One-tenth belongs to the Church.”

At that moment, Caligula’s towering figure burst into the warehouse. He held up ten thick fingers to Victor, showing off proudly, “Master, Aka caught fifteen Kobolds.”

He flipped his hand over to show that he meant fifteen, not ten.

“Well done, you were very brave today.” Victor never held back praise for Aka’s battles, raising a hand to pat his broad shoulder.

Caligula flashed a foolish grin, then gestured excitedly. “Master, Aka found lots of treasure, lots and lots, piled up like a small mountain… Aka got a pretty gem for Master. Aka found it first. Brandon told Aka to put all the gems together and wait for Master… Aka didn’t listen to him. Aka ran.”

With that, he pulled a transparent crystal from his pocket. In the center of the crystal, a drop of crimson, like blood, was frozen, bound by layers of minuscule runes that were difficult for the mortal eye to discern.

A Marvelous Crystal from the Alchemical Empire!

Victor’s pupils dilated instantly. Before Roland could walk over, he quickly and discreetly hid the crystal from Aka’s palm.

“What’s that? Something good?” Roland looked at Aka’s hand, her suspicious gaze turning to Victor.

“Nothing, just a piece of crystal,” Victor replied evasively, his expression unchanging.

“My crystal… let me see,” Roland said, holding out her hand to demand it.

“It’s mine now… The Dragon-blooded Kobolds are yours, and the Kobold eggs are yours, but everything to the west is a war trophy of the House of Randell… If I am willing to share my war trophies with everyone, that is also my will,” Victor emphasized. His statement received unanimous agreement from the high-ranking female knights.

Roland blinked her beautiful eyes, then let out a chuckle and said cheerfully, “Let’s go see the treasure that’s piled up like a small mountain.”

The battle priest insisted, “One-tenth belongs to the Church.”

Chapter 628: Eaglenest Mountain

The saying that the Kobold chieftain’s treasure hoard was like a small mountain clearly had an element of exaggeration, but the pile of treasure in the warehouse was nearly three meters high, a full head taller than Caligula. Everyone standing before it had to crane their necks to look up. All sorts of strangely shaped, multicolored metals, gems, crystals, scales, ambers, zircons, and minerals were heaped together, their dazzling radiance blinding to behold.

With a cheer, Roland threw herself onto the treasure pile and began to roll around. The other three high-ranking female knights, constrained by their status, did not frolic on the pile with the same abandon as the princess, but their expressions were all ones of eager envy. Even the eyes of the ice-cold beauty, Margaret Wellington, were sparkling like a starlit sky.

Victor noticed Charlotte’s gaze was downcast as she hid behind the crowd. She had probably circled the treasure hoard dozens of times before. Now, seeing it change hands, she was feeling despondent.

Women and Dragons are the same kind of creature, regardless of whether they’re knights… Victor mused to himself with a private smile, then overheard the battle priest muttering to himself.

“A tenth of the treasure belongs to the Church.”

Victor suddenly felt a pang of heartache, and the sharp-eared knights all wore displeased expressions. Only Roland was still rolling around on the treasure pile, carefree and oblivious.

She was truly just rolling around for the sake of it, experiencing the legendary joy of a Dragon’s life.

When Roland finally grew tired of it, she slid down from the pile, walked up to Victor, and asked, “How are we dividing these war trophies? You just said you’d share. Everyone heard you, so no backing out.”

Everyone pricked up their ears. The Randall Personal Guard had eliminated the nearby beastmen and found the Kobold’s treasure, granting the Gold-Eyed Earl legal ownership of it. Since it was wartime, he was obligated to share the spoils with his comrades-in-arms, but the final say on how the treasure was divided rested with His Highness Randall.

Victor smiled faintly and said, “First, we inventory the treasure… In any case, we must first pay the Church’s tithe.”

“Yes, yes, yes, inventory it first… I’ll send a messenger raven to inform Patriarch Flidis right away.” The battle priest was beaming, patting his chest as he guaranteed, “Rest assured, my lords, we will be responsible for recording the war trophies. There will be absolutely no mistakes.”

The high-ranking female knights couldn’t help but smile. When the Church was taking its tithe, the clergy’s accounting of supplies was never short. A lord’s subordinates, on the other hand, might not be so accurate in their tallies—and they would certainly only ever be short, never over.

After being informed of the situation at Little Calf Village, Patriarch Flidis responded quickly. He did not come himself, but instead delegated the Archbishop of the Sasan imperial capital to act on his behalf, offering condolences and rewards to the soldiers of the Gambis vanguard and the Sasan garrison militia.

For a common soldier, rewards on the battlefield were typically nothing more than gold coins, meat, and wine. But the Church’s rewards never involved material wealth; it was a registration of merit, bestowing honorary titles upon the participants.

For example: On the eleventh of August, Radiant Year 7579, in the Sasan Empire, Mokebi, a subject of the Frederick family, answered the call of the red smoke beacons and fought against the beastman invaders at Little Calf Village in the East Pioneer Fief. In battle, Mokebi was brave and tenacious, killing eleven Goblins and four Kobolds. He is a veteran of the Beastmen War, a brave defender of the Empire, a slayer of Goblins, and a slayer of Kobolds. May the light of the Supreme Lord be with him.

From then on, the militiaman Mokebi would have honorifics. His son could proudly tell others, “My father is the veteran Mokebi, a defender of the Empire, slayer of Goblins, and slayer of Kobolds.”

Because of these honorary titles, local officials and priests would afford Mokebi a corresponding level of respect and preferential treatment.

In truth, the Church’s reward was a process of legitimization, which included validating claims to war trophies and changes in land ownership—and this was precisely what the Knight-Nobles valued most.

After a tense but orderly inventory by the priests and Knight’s Squires, the battle report for the Little Calf Village engagement was drafted before sunset.

The Gambis vanguard, the Frederick family’s Guard Cavalry, and the Sasan garrison militia had jointly annihilated eleven Ogres, 4,669 Goblins, and 2,384 Kobolds, which included 266 Bugbears and eleven Hobgoblins. They had also captured fifty-nine Dragon-blooded Kobolds alive, including a Dragon-blooded Kobold lord.

The garrison militia suffered forty-eight casualties, with 405 lightly wounded; the Sasan Guard Cavalry lost thirty-five men; the Gambis vanguard lost forty-six cavalrymen, among them two of the Randall family’s Swiftbird light cavalry. Most of them died after their mounts fell and they were trampled by the cavalry behind them.

The vanguard’s cavalrymen were elites selected from the great families, but their experience in mounted combat was still a far cry from that of the Sasan Guard Cavalry.

As for the war trophies, aside from the dead and captured Kobolds, there was the treasure collected by the Kobold chieftain, which was primarily high-quality zircon. It was an indispensable catalyst for blacksmiths forging Adamantine-class alloys and held considerable practical value. Human-sourced zircon mainly came as a byproduct from Crystal Glaze Rock mines; production had always been low and the quality mediocre. The zircon collected by the Kobolds from cliff crevices would be considered top-tier in the human kingdoms, capable of forging even more exceptional Adamantine equipment.

The rest of the hoard included many precious metals, which the Dragon-blooded Kobolds had smelted into bizarre shapes, though this didn’t affect their value. There was even over twelve pounds of Mithril and more than two hundred pounds of Adamantine. Compared to these two extraordinary metals, the vast quantity of gold sand seemed utterly unappealing.

The high-ranked knights stared at the Mithril and Adamantine, barely sparing a glance for the Kobold’s collection of various elemental crystals, gems, amber, and other treasures. The lustrous black Saronite Demon Iron Ore and the Thorium ore that resembled Mithril were completely ignored.

Only the Saronite Demon Iron Ore and Thorium ore had not been smelted by the Kobolds. They had been picked out and placed in an inconspicuous corner. Everyone assumed the Kobold chieftain had collected these two types of ore as if they were gemstones. Victor, however, composed himself and acted nonchalant, plotting a way to take all the Demon Iron ore for himself without arousing suspicion.

The priests took a tenth of each type of war trophy, and the rest belonged to the participating families. Roland walked over and asked joyfully, “Hurry up and tell us, how are we dividing this treasure?”

Seeing Roland’s clear, deep-green eyes, Victor was suddenly on guard. Any scheme to take the Demon Iron Ore for himself would be seen through by the high-ranked knights, and the secret of Saronite Demon Iron was far more valuable than the ore itself.

Victor glanced at the beautiful female knights, each with her own unique charm, then nodded and said, “We could split it into five equal parts. That would be the simplest way, but not necessarily the fairest. Some things are useful to me but not to you, while things of value to you are also valuable to me.”

“The Mithril, Adamantine, zircon, earth element crystals, and water element crystals will be divided equally among all families. I will take all the fire element crystals and half of the wind element crystals. As for the rest, you may pick first. Whatever is left over will be mine.” Victor gave the female knights the right to choose.

Victor wanted the fire element crystals for Sylvia. There were sixty-seven fire element crystals of varying quality here; how many could Sylvia possibly use alone? Fire element crystals, like other elemental crystals, were mostly used as decorative gems and didn’t have much practical value.

Victor allowed everyone else to pick from the remaining treasures first, which the high-ranking female knights interpreted as the Gold-Eyed Earl’s gentlemanly conduct.

Roland also said, “Alright. Wind element crystals are useful to the Auguste family as well. I’ll take the other half of the wind element crystals. As for the rest of the treasure, you all pick first. I’ll choose from what remains before Victor does.”

With both His Highnesses making such generous declarations, the three high-ranking female knights certainly didn’t stand on ceremony. Like Dragons, they took the most beautiful gems and crystals, followed by the gold sand, gold ingots, amber, and unidentifiable scales and beast bones. The Saronite Demon Iron Ore looked quite nice, so they each picked a couple of pieces for their personal collections. In the end, only a large pile of Demon Iron Ore and all the Thorium ore were left. Roland glanced at Victor before unceremoniously taking all the Thorium ore, along with a few of the blackest, shiniest pieces of Demon Iron Ore.

Just as he’d hoped, the more than one thousand pounds of Demon Iron Ore went unclaimed and fell into Victor’s pocket.

The Half-dragons of the Great Marsh had been digging for Demon Iron Ore underwater for over three years, and had only gathered enough to forge thirty Tracking Magic Arrows for the Alchemical auxiliary soldiers. This batch of ore could produce at least two hundred!

Victor was thoroughly satisfied. But Cardinal Haruze of the Sasan eastern diocese sidled up to him and said with a congenial smile:

“Hehe, Blackgold Ore is very rare. The metal smelted from it can absorb and channel void elements. Ancient Wizards all used Blackgold to create extraordinary weapons. The ancestral sword of the Nachtigal family is an extraordinary longsword forged from Blackgold. When Nachtigal strikes a target with that Blackgold sword, the earth element will detonate inside the target’s body, and it also has a Petrification effect. It is said that if the Blackgold sword continuously damages a target for long enough, Nachtigal could even turn a Hydra Lizard to stone.”

Victor was well aware of the properties of Saronite Demon Iron. When his Tracking Magic Arrow hit a target, the arrow would release void wind element inside the target’s body, causing immense damage. It was particularly effective against highly resistant monsters.

He smiled and said, “A pity that Blackgold Ore cannot be smelted today.”

Archbishop Haruze mused, “Perhaps there is a way… The Mountain Dwarves of the Arreat Plateau use earth-fire to smelt minerals. The temperature of earth-fire is high enough that it might be able to refine Blackgold.” He paused, then changed the subject. “Of course, smelting Blackgold with earth-fire is only a possibility. The Grayhollow Satyrs have occupied the Mountain Dwarves’ tunnels, and it’s not worth the risk for some Blackgold Ore. After all, our armies are the key to defeating the beastmen and pioneering new territories. Lowering the casting cost of common weapons and equipment and improving the quality of our armaments is clearly more meaningful than forging a single extraordinary weapon.”

The Archbishop’s verbal誘導 had no effect on the high-ranking female knights. Everyone knew the importance of army equipment, but that didn’t stop a high-ranked knight from loving Mithril.

Skully Joshua glanced from side to side, her eyebrows curving as she smiled. “My, my, how come I don’t see His Highness, Crown Prince Frederick?”

Haruze’s expression froze for a moment before he gave a dry laugh. “Zieg is in charge of logistics for the eastern defensive line and is busy with his duties. He has returned to the imperial capital to requisition able-bodied subjects to rebuild the Little Calf Village barracks and didn’t have time to bid farewell to Your Excellencies. He asked me to convey his apologies to all of you.”

The treasure collected by the Kobold lord was nothing compared to the Mithril ore vein beneath Little Calf Village. It was a high-quality Mithril vein, not one found as a byproduct of silver mining. According to the Lord’s Law, since the lord of Little Calf Village had abandoned his Pioneer Fief, this had become ownerless land. Whoever cleared out the nearby beastman forces would own this territory, including the Mithril vein. The Gambis vanguard, having answered the Church’s call to war, was a guest army in a foreign land; they had no claim to sovereignty over Little Calf Village. Siegfried had led his Guard Knights in the battle for Little Calf Village and thus had a legitimate claim to ownership of this land. That was why he had rushed back to the imperial capital to find Patriarch Flidis to change the deed to Little Calf Village and legally place the Mithril vein under his name.

Siegfried had stumbled upon a huge windfall, and he should have rewarded the Gambis vanguard with a promise of a certain amount of Mithril. Yet he had said not a word and simply slipped away.

For this kind of behavior, Victor actually thought more highly of Zieg. In the face of his family’s interests, the Crown Prince’s dignity was something to be cast aside when necessary. He had no Gold Knight by his side; if he tried to win Roland over with Mithril, who knew how much he would have to promise?

Siegfried was self-aware enough to know that Princess Roland was not someone he could pursue at his current level. Even if he were to give the Gambis reinforcements some Mithril, that was a matter to be settled between the Frederick and Auguste families.

During a war, this Mithril vein especially should not become a rift between the two sides. Siegfried had rushed back to the imperial capital to discuss countermeasures with Patriarch Flidis.

Victor wasn’t worried that the Frederick family wouldn’t share some of the Mithril. He had another matter on his mind.

“Your Excellency the Archbishop, are there any mountain forests with cliffs nearby?” Victor asked.

Haruze answered without hesitation, a smile on his face. “To the northeast, about one hundred kilometers from Little Calf Village, there is an east-west mountain range covering approximately six hundred square kilometers, called Eaglenest Mountain. The Kobold lord likely migrated from Eaglenest Mountain to Little Calf Village. However, since it abandoned its territory at Eaglenest Mountain, it means it has already dug up all the treasures there.”

Dragons were accustomed to building their lairs on precipitous cliffs where thieves couldn’t reach. More than ten thousand years ago, Dragons vanished from human sight, becoming creatures of myth and legend, but the Dragon-blooded Kobolds remained, their living habits just like those of Dragons.

The Kobold lord had almost no natural enemies. With its Dragon’s Might and fiery breath, even an Ogre Warlord would be burned to ash if it encountered one. If it had stayed in its lair on the cliff, it would have been extremely difficult for Victor to capture it alive, and impossible for Roland. Unfortunately for it, its Dragon’s Might had no effect on high-ranked knights, and a Gold Knight could perceive all elemental shifts. Before it could even open its mouth, Roland would know where it was about to spit its fireball. Thus, away from the protection of its cliffs, the Dragon-blooded Kobold chieftain became Roland’s war trophy. The treasure it had painstakingly collected was divvied up by the detestable humans, and even the eggs it laid would be made into life-extending potions.

A Silver-rank Dragon-blooded Kobold could live for over two hundred years, making it a long-lived species among monsters. They had a strong collecting mania and a natural instinct for finding treasure. Once the treasure in an area was completely plundered, they would rely on that instinct to wander to the next territory that held treasure.

Archbishop Haruze believed that if the Kobold lord came from Eaglenest Mountain, then the area around it would already be devoid of valuable wealth.

Victor agreed with the Archbishop’s assessment, but he had to go check for himself.

The Marvelous Crystal that Caligula had discovered was certainly related to the Alchemical Empire. Victor had a similar Marvelous Crystal, which he had unexpectedly found in the Misty Mountains of Naville while retrieving the Rune Crystal from an Alchemy Tower. To this day, he still hadn’t figured out what that Marvelous Crystal was used for.

But what if there were ruins of the Alchemical Empire at Eaglenest Mountain? What if there was an ownerless Alchemy Tower?

Alchemy Towers were built at the confluence of the four void elements in balance. If the elemental balance shifted, the Rune Crystal would automatically take the form of a Core of the Earth and bury itself underground, where it could be preserved for tens of thousands of years. The Core of the Earth was a physical manifestation of the Void Earth Element, continuously consuming the Rune Crystal’s power. Before the Rune Crystal was completely destroyed, no matter how strong the Kobold lord was, it wouldn’t be able to move the Core of the Earth. But a Kobold could dig it up.

If the Kobold lord had dug up a Marvelous Crystal, there might be a Core of the Earth nearby. As for when and where it was dug up, that was impossible to say.

If the Marvelous Crystal was unearthed at Eaglenest Mountain, the traces of the Kobold’s large pit would be easy to find.

Even if there was only a one percent chance, Eaglenest Mountain was worth a trip for Victor.

“Narsen, assemble the personal guard! We’re moving out immediately,” Victor called out to Narsen, who was currently gawking at the Kobold lord.

“Yes, my lord!” Narsen didn’t ask why, responding loudly as he turned and ran to gather his men.

Archbishop Haruze looked up at the dimming sky and asked in surprise, “Your Highness, it’s almost dark. Where are you heading off to at this hour?”

“Night or day makes no difference to me.”

Victor turned his head, a graceful smile on his face as he said, “We are going to Duke Baselius’s defensive sector to hunt a Bear-monster Elder. We’ll set out tonight and make camp near Eaglenest Mountain. I’ll also take the opportunity to survey the terrain of Eaglenest Mountain and see if there are any other large monster colonies there.”

Chapter 629: Night Captive

Eaglenest Mountain was exceptionally striking. Like a giant mushroom made of rock, it stood alone in the heart of the primeval forest. Beneath it, the tall trees resembled mere tufts of grass, making its peculiar and majestic silhouette the first thing to catch one’s eye.

Giant stone pillar mountains were a unique geomorphological wonder of the Northern Wildlands. Legend told that Dragons once coiled on their peaks, arrogantly looking down upon the weaker creatures. The forests at the foot of the mountains were their domains, and all the monsters living within were their slaves. Anyone who coveted a Dragon’s treasure first had to break through the forest’s monsters. When they finally defeated the Dragon’s servants and attempted to scale the cliffs, the Dragon would send them into the arms of death with its wings and breath.

Protected by the impassable natural barrier of the stone pillar mountains, the ancient Dragons, free from worry, unscrupulously attacked the city-states and villages of humans, elves, and Barbarians. They stole and robbed, extorted and blackmailed, hauling their plundered wealth back to their lairs.

The greed and tyranny of the Dragons enraged the ancient Chosen. Legendary Wizards allied with elves and Barbarians to attack the largest dragon nest of the time, sparking a Dragon War of mythic and epic proportions. In the end, the Chosen won the war, forcing the Dragon race to sign a treaty, and built the most prestigious of human city-states upon the dragon nest—Dragonflame City.

If the legends were true, the giant stone pillars of the Northern Wildlands could support a human city-state, a testament to their immense size.

Eaglenest Mountain was clearly a little one compared to the legendary Dragonflame City, yet it was still over 300 meters high and covered nearly four square kilometers. Its nearly vertical cliffs were impossible to climb, even for agile Mountain Apes.

The silver moon hung high, its light draping the land like gauze. Victor, like a tangible yet formless phantom, lightly tapped his Dragon-Lizard war boots against the cliff face. A current of air lifted him a dozen meters. The trees below shrank rapidly in his vision, and in the space of a few dozen blinks, he had reached the top of Eaglenest Mountain.

Victor’s heart filled with the joy of freedom. With his Body of Gossamer and Wind Walk, most obstacles in the world could not stop him, allowing him to appreciate scenery unseen by ordinary people.

The summit was much larger than the Hill Camp in the Randell Fief. It was mostly composed of rock with sparse soil, home to only a dozen or so clumps of shallow-rooted shrubs. Small, pale flowers were dyed silvery-white by the moonlight, possessing a serene beauty. Slightly west of the center of the summit was a pool of water. It being the height of summer, the water level was low enough to see the bedrock, but the pool still spanned over 2,600 square meters, holding enough water for 300 people to drink until the rainy and snowy season arrived.

This was a natural cistern, and wherever there was a stable source of water, Life could thrive and multiply. A considerable number of bird nests dotted the area around the pool, perched on protruding rocks or man-made stone walls—clearly the handiwork of Kobolds. It was just that the Kobolds had since moved away from Eaglenest Mountain, and it had now become a habitat for birds.

Without disturbing the roosting birds, Victor quickly circled the summit but found no trace of any pits dug by Kobolds.

This disappointed him greatly. The Alchemy Towers were built where the four elements met in balance. He didn’t understand what “elemental convergence” was, only that there was always a water source near an Alchemy Tower. There was water atop Eaglenest Mountain, but he hadn’t found any pits left by the Kobolds, not even a trace of digging. This meant the Marvelous Crystal had not been unearthed here.

With X-3’s minute Insight, there was no sign of man-made digging on the summit. No matter how many more times Victor circled it, he would find nothing new.

Where could the Alchemical Empire’s ruins be?

Victor sat on the highest rock, took out the Marvelous Crystal from a pocket on his leather armor’s belt, and examined its features carefully under the cold moonlight, his mind racing.

Its shape, hardness, and size are astonishingly consistent with the Marvelous Crystal from the Misty Mountains. The red sphere inside seems to be the blood of some creature, its luster having a metallic quality… Is it a sealing crystal? Dragon-blooded Kobolds possess a treasure-hunting talent bestowed by Dragons. Their collection of this crystal means it is equivalent to treasures favored by Dragons. To obtain it, the Kobolds were willing to expend their energy to dig a large pit. The key is that the collecting mania of Dragon-blooded Kobolds drives them to wander. This Marvelous Crystal might not have been dug up near Eaglenest Mountain.

However, the ruins of the Alchemical Empire are found by chance, not by searching. I may not find them just because I’m looking, but I’m bound to encounter them! It was no accident that Caligula discovered the Marvelous Crystal among so much treasure and presented it to me as a tribute!

The sequence of events should be… if the Radiant Knights hadn’t used the Great Divination against the Black-hoof Centaur tribe, King Ryan wouldn’t have died, the little Baron wouldn’t have gone to the Centaur Hills, and I naturally wouldn’t have been reborn in his body, nor would there have been an Activation of Alchemy Tower No. 7.

On another track, the area outside Eaglenest Mountain was originally the territory of the Black-hoof Centaurs. If the Radiant Knights hadn’t used the Great Divination to rout the Blackhoof tribe, driving the Centaurs away and turning this place into the East Pioneer Fief, then the Kobold lord would never have dared to leave Eaglenest Mountain at the risk of being killed by the centaur tribe, and thus would not have migrated to Little Calf Village with his treasures, including the Marvelous Crystal.

The Marvelous Crystal would never have fallen into my hands.

My acquisition of the Marvelous Crystal is the work of some Force of Destiny, the attraction of the extraordinary that is unique to the inheritor of the Alchemical Empire. Therefore, the possibility of me finding the ruins of the Alchemical Empire near Eaglenest Mountain is quite high!

Victor was keenly aware that this line of thinking had fallen into the trap of fatalism, but he now had the confidence to escape the arrangements of fate. His Legendary-rank strength, the Mind Bloodline secret art, a Highness’s power, and the Golden Company’s vast influence all allowed him to shelve Alchemy Tower No. 7. However, he suspected that if he were to refuse the inheritance of the Alchemical Empire, some other being would accept fate’s arrangement.

Therefore, he could take the ancient Alchemists’ relics without using them, but he could not allow anyone else to obtain the legacy of the Alchemical Empire.

Victor put away the crystal and began walking along the outer edge of the summit, gazing down at the forest terrain below.

This primeval forest radiated outwards from the foot of the mountain, thinning as it spread, forming an oval shape of about 670 square kilometers. It was night, and even with Victor’s eyesight, he couldn’t see the entire forest. Standing on high, he first used X-3 to divide the forest into different sections to be explored separately.

If he were to search the forest for ancient ruins without a clear direction, Victor might spend half a year and still not find his target. He planned to follow the pattern of Alchemy Towers being near water sources, looking for traces of pits dug by Kobolds near them. This task was relatively simple for Victor and would take about half a night. The only complication was the Core of the Earth’s miraculous property of gathering soil and turning mud to stone. He didn’t have time to waste at Eaglenest Mountain. He could only identify suspicious locations first, then leave some Alchemical militia behind to excavate them one by one. If that didn’t work, he could always mobilize the mercenary companies controlled by Quicksilver to help.

A flicker of fire on the edge of the forest caught Victor’s eye. He couldn’t help but stop and watch.

The fire was to the east of Eaglenest Mountain, 11 kilometers from Victor in a straight line. Randall’s Personal Guards and the battle priests were camped on the west side of Eaglenest Mountain; that light was clearly not their campfire.

Victor had not hidden his presence upon entering the Eaglenest Mountain forest. If there were any powerful Savage monsters, they would have long since fled. Regardless of whether humans or monsters had lit the fire, now that Victor had seen it, he would certainly investigate. He slid down the cliff, the air currents shifting his Body of Gossamer in mid-air. After dropping ten-odd meters, he adhered to the cliff face again. Repeating this process, he quickly reached the ground.

Relying on the map memorized by X-3, Victor silently skimmed toward the fire. A moment later, he was within two kilometers of his target. He landed in a large tree and cocked his ear, listening to the sounds ahead.

The sounds of conversation, footsteps, the friction of armor with movement, breathing, and heartbeats—nothing escaped his ears. X-3 quickly sketched a picture in his mind; the locations of hidden sentries, the number of personnel, and the monster captives were all clearly presented.

It’s her? Interesting… A slight smile touched Victor’s lips. He crept forward a little further, easily bypassing the hidden sentries, and saw the flickering silhouettes around the campfire from a distance.

*****************

Andria Baselius stood by the campfire, quietly observing the Wizard cast a spell.

A figure completely cloaked in a black robe stood before two Centaur captives. One was already a cold corpse, while the other was on the verge of death. A half-open tube was inserted into its flank, and blood was gushing out, flowing along the semi-circular pipe into a large jar.

A circle of red, mysterious runes revolved around the black-robed man’s chest, slowly turning in the void with a strange rhythm.

“You followed your tribe to the east of the fief. What did you see?” the black-robed man asked the Centaur in the human tongue.

The Centaur let out a series of strange chirps, answering the man.

Its voice grew fainter and fainter. After a while, its eyes glazed over, and the rise and fall of its chest finally ceased. The red runes dimmed and dissipated, and the black-robed man’s body trembled as if he was about to collapse.

Two warriors in leather armor promptly caught the swaying man and helped him to a tree stump to sit down.

Andria waited for the black-robed man to recover before asking coolly, “Wood, any results?”

The man shook his head, took the cup of honey wine handed to him by a guard, and drank a mouthful. He said wearily, “My lady, this Centaur knew very little. It spent ten days in the eastern part of the Westdon Khanate and saw countless of its kind gathering… nothing more.”

Andria nodded noncommittally and said, almost to herself, “These few Centaur scouts we caught in the East Pioneer Fief are of low status. We can’t get any valuable intelligence out of them… It seems I’ll need to capture a Savage Centaur scout alive…”

“Clean this up. We’ll camp here for the night. Tomorrow, we’ll head further east and see if we can run into a Savage Centaur.”

Andria raised a slender hand and tidied the strands of hair disheveled by the night wind. Her deep blue eyes suddenly fixed on the swaying campfire; the flames were dancing in the opposite direction to her fluttering hair.

The Stormwind female knight raised her Mithril warbow with incredible speed. A sharp Mithril arrow, gleaming with blue light, pointed towards a spot in the forest.

Clang!

The guards in the camp all drew their longswords, fanning out into a circle. Their sharp eyes scanned the forest, where shadows danced like ghosts. Under their masters’ command, a dozen burly, red-furred warhounds fanned out from different angles, circling toward the patch of woods where the female earl’s bow was aimed.

The night wind howled through the leaves, muffling the patter of the warhounds’ paws. Everyone was on high alert. After a while, the warhounds all returned to the camp, and an unnerving atmosphere began to creep into everyone’s heart. Andria’s beautiful eyes turned an icy blue, like a frozen storm. She commanded in a calm voice, “Call back all the sentry posts. We’re leaving immediately.”

A resolute-faced, middle-aged Knight blew a whistle that sounded like a rock cricket. From different directions in the woods, the chirping calls of crickets answered. Twenty-three guards in greenish-black leather armor returned to the camp one by one.

“Is everyone here… Are you waiting for me?”

A pleasant voice came from behind Andria. She sighed softly, dropped her Mithril warbow and the Mithril longsword at her waist to the ground, and turned with an elegant posture. She commanded her subordinates, who looked as if they were facing a great enemy, “Sheathe your weapons.”

The guards obeyed the female earl’s command, returning their swords to their scabbards and lowering their bows. They saw a tall, well-proportioned figure strolling over from the east. He wore exquisitely crafted leather armor, with two longswords hanging from his waist. His features were unparalleled in their beauty, and his eyes shone with a flowing golden light, like mist, like a rainbow, appearing mysterious and noble.

Andria stepped forward and curtsied. “Your Highness Randall, good evening. I didn’t expect we would meet here.”

Victor smiled slightly and returned the courtesy. “Beautiful Countess of Wimbledon, what a delightful surprise to meet in the wilderness. Why don’t you come to my side?”

Biting her lip gently, Andria moved to Victor’s side, half a shoulder’s length behind him. They stood less than a meter apart, looking quite intimate.

The close-quarters combat of Gale Knights was even more formidable than their ranged attacks. Andria vividly remembered the Gold-Eyed Earl’s feat of cutting down a berserk Ogre Warlord. At this distance, she had no chance of escape or counter-attack.

A satisfied smile hung on Victor’s lips as the golden light in his eyes quickly faded, returning them to their unusual dark gold color. His gaze swept over everyone in the camp, pausing for a moment on the black-robed Wizard. Looking at the red-furred warhounds lying quietly on the ground, he commented, “The dogs are well-trained. They didn’t bark indiscriminately.”

Andria let out a cold snort. Victor turned his head to the side and smiled. “I didn’t expect you to be a core member of the Baselius family.”

It wasn’t strange for the Baselius family to retain Wizards—Auguste did as well—but none of the Four Great Princes of Blinor City had access to the Aerie Fortress Wizards. Andria wasn’t even one of the Baselius’s Princes, yet she was wandering the wilderness with a Wizard, which truly surprised Victor, so he ventured a guess to test her.

Andria said demurely, “Every one of them is my vassal. Even the warhounds you praised belong to the Wimbledon Earldom.”

“That makes things simple.” Victor raised an eyebrow. His gaze shifted to the black-robed Wizard as he commanded, “Take off your mask.”

The black-robed Wizard clearly hesitated, glancing at the guards to his left and right. Andria’s long, straight brows knitted together. She said through gritted teeth, “Wood, do as His Highness commands. Otherwise, we will all die.”

“Darling, that would be everyone except you…” Victor glanced at Andria, his tone flippant, but his eyes were cold and sharp. “If you speak again, I guarantee they will all die.”

A vassal Wizard, adopted by a lord since childhood, would have an exceptional reverence for the system of Knight-Nobles and would not be ignorant of the top figures in the kingdoms. Andria, who he called Master, had already surrendered without a fight. Yet when faced with Victor’s command, the black-robed Wizard still dared to glance around, which was Suspicious enough.

The black-robed Wizard removed his metal mask, revealing an ordinary face. Victor memorized his features and asked, “What’s your name? Who do you serve?”

“I… my name is Wood. I swear fealty to My lord Earl of Wimbledon,” the black-robed Wizard answered, a little nervously.

“Since when?”

“Recently… oh, no, a year ago. We were originally tenant households in the Pioneer Fief. When the beastmen invaded, the Earl’s men saved me and my family,” Wood said honestly.

“What is your Wizardry?”

“My lord, I can temporarily acquire an ability from a dying person… or monster. I can also learn things I want to know. For example, if I cast my Wizardry on a dying owl, I can possess an owl’s hearing for the duration of a large hourglass, but I can’t turn into an owl and fly. I can also ask the owl one question to learn something I want to know that it also knows. If the owl doesn’t know, then the question has no answer.”

Wood took a deep breath, his speech gradually becoming smoother. He pointed to the Centaur on the ground and explained, “I just used my Wizardry to temporarily understand the Centaur language, but that was just a side effect. I was following my master’s orders, asking it what it saw in the eastern part of the Sidon Wilderness. It answered my question. Even if it couldn’t speak, I would still know the answer it knew.”

Victor had secretly watched Wood’s entire spellcasting process, and what he said was basically consistent with Victor’s own judgment.

Nodding slightly, Victor suddenly asked, “What is your plaque in the Masked Brotherhood?”

“Masked… what-hood? Plaque?” Wood looked utterly bewildered. He thought for a moment and stammered, “My lord, I don’t know… I’ve never heard of a Masked some… thing.”

No stress-induced changes in his heartbeat, breathing, or blood flow. He wasn’t lying… Victor was temporarily reassured and turned to Andria. “Does Duke Baselius also doubt there is a King of Beastmen?”

The female earl said with a cold face, “I don’t know what Your Highness is talking about. I am merely doing what I must.”

The Sidon Centaurs wouldn’t unite to attack the Sasan Empire’s East Pioneer Fief for no reason. If there was no external pressure from a King of Beastmen, then the biggest manipulator behind this war was very likely the Radiant Knights. Because their pioneering of the Northern Wildlands would sooner or later lead to a decisive battle with the Sidon Centaurs, and they would sooner or later encounter a King of Beastmen. To be precise, the pressure from the human armies would give rise to one, or two, or three Kings of Beastmen.

The Centaur army seemed to know the weaknesses of the human defense line, but their surprise attack, while seemingly precise, had actually led them unknowingly into a desperate situation. The Radiant Knights lit the red smoke beacon fire, mobilized the armies of the entire human kingdoms for one decisive battle to completely annihilate the Sidon Centaurs, with the Sasan Empire becoming the biggest beneficiary.

The Iron Mountain Nobles led by Baselius certainly benefited as well, but they did not wish to be deceived by the Radiant Knights and end up as losers on the battlefield.

Andria was trying everything she could to find accurate intelligence, but she would not deny the existence of the King of Beastmen in front of a Highness from the southern kingdom.

If it were Victor, he would do the same. Coincidentally, he had run into Andria in the wilderness and now had leverage over her for retaining a Wizard. Since the power dynamic was clear, he couldn’t let her off so easily.

This camp was full of eyes and ears. Although Andria was able to bring these people and the Wizard out with her, meaning they were likely her confidants, Victor couldn’t be sure of their relationship with Duke Baselius. Even if they weren’t secret guards trained by the Baselius family, it was difficult for any human to truly keep a secret.

Quicksilver spies had pried open more than one mouth with hallucinogenic potions. Only Alchemical humans could be absolutely relied upon not to leak secrets.

Following the consistent style of Nobles, Victor decided to use a suggestive, private affair to conceal his true intentions. Even if Duke Baselius were to ask Andria about it, she would have a plausible excuse.

In any case, the Gold-Eyed Earl’s reputation was already in tatters. The matter of taking Viscount Briart’s wife and flirting with King Gambis’s Fiancée were stains that could never be washed away. Adding the blemish of seducing the Stormwind female knight would be of no consequence.

X-3 retrieved the body language and smiling methods for pleasing women from the little Baron’s memories. Victor leaned forward slightly and extended an invitation, attentive but not without courtesy.

“My lord Earl, I admire your beauty and nobility. May I have the honor of a stroll through this forest with you? Just the two of us.”

His Highness Randall’s etiquette was impeccable, yet he had already turned and started walking into the woods on his own, waiting ahead. This posture, which brooked no refusal, was forceful, even crude, towards a noble silver female knight. However, his movements were like the tranquil moonlight, the gurgling brook, the flowing breeze—so natural and intimate that it was impossible to feel any ill will.

A faint blush flashed across Andria’s beautiful, delicate face, then vanished without a trace. She turned back and instructed, “Wait for me here.”

The normally proud and haughty Countess of Wimbledon followed Victor into the depths of the forest, her obedient and gentle appearance leaving her confidant personal guards staring at each other in bewilderment.

Chapter 630: A Secret Pact

The moonlight was like water. Andria followed closely behind Victor, less than a meter away. Catching his unique scent, her heart fluttered like a startled deer. She felt a mix of guilt and excitement, as if she were having a tryst with her lover behind her husband’s back.

Andria knew that as long as she stayed within the range of Victor’s Blind Sense, she wouldn’t anger him. There was no need to follow so closely. But His Highness Randall’s presence was too intoxicating. Andria couldn’t help herself, allowing a nearly forgotten girlishness to blossom in her heart as she savored the vivid feeling.

At that moment, Victor had no romantic thoughts. He had forced her to come out for a walk, but not to whisper sweet nothings.

The problem lay with Andria.

As High-ranked Knights communed with the void element, their own personalities were gradually influenced by the Elemental Sea. Earth Knights were steadfast, Raging Wave Knights were gentle, and Gale Knights were volatile. The lethality of Wind Knights came not only from their unique fighting style but also from the significant influence of the wind element on their temperament.

In their domestic lives, wind-element Great Knights were famous for their foul tempers. The men fared better, as they could always find gentle female knights for partners. The women, however, had a harder time. Andria had known her husband since childhood and they had deep feelings for one another. But when she advanced to a Silver Knight and began to uncontrollably resonate with thirty-six Elemental Nodes, her temper grew ever shorter. The pressure she placed on her husband became heavier and heavier, and their relationship was now on the brink of collapse.

The two Highnesses of Baselius had both advised Andria to let go and find a lesser Knight as a partner, but she was unwilling. So her poor husband had no choice but to hide from his “tyrant” wife.

Andria understood that her partner relationship with her husband was already shattered; only the marriage alliance of their families remained. If she continued to oppress him, she feared he would turn against her completely.

The phrase, “The Moon Elf bloodline is the wellspring of the Gale Knights,” was not a mere saying. In practical terms, Gale Knights and Moon Elf nobles were essentially the same kind. Andria should have been partnered with a Moon Elf noble, a union that would benefit both the Wimbledon family’s Wind Knights and the Moon Elf bloodline.

The frustrating part was that whenever a minor noble began to manifest the traits of the Moon Elf bloodline, they were whisked away by one of the great noble houses. Andria, for all her status as the Wimbledon female earl, had never even met a single young Moon Elf noble.

The pinnacle of the Moon Elf bloodline was the Sun Elf. They were invariably male and held a natural dominion and allure over Moon Elves. It was the natural order of things for the Elves to accept the rule of a Sun Elf, but both human nobles with Moon Elf bloodline and wind-element Great Knights resisted the bloodline rule of the Sun Elves. The biological traits and ideologies of humans and elves were fundamentally different. In Victor, however, Andria could sense a unique aura where the wind and water elements merged in perfect harmony. It was a level of power approaching the very origin of the Elemental Sea, yet it manifested as the realistic Law of Life.

This was what truly drew Andria to His Highness Randall.

If only he belonged to me… No, I can’t keep following him… Andria, you have a family, a husband, an heir. Everything you have is in the Iron Mountain Empire. You and His Highness Randall can’t even be lovers… You must seize the initiative now. You can’t just keep following him like a fool… Tell him forcefully: I don’t want to walk anymore!

“Where are you taking me?”

The flirtatious tone, tinged with a note of submission, startled even Andria herself. A blush instantly spread across her beautiful face. She stomped her feet in frustrated shyness. She could have channeled her Aura but chose not to, lost in the intoxicating surge of girlish feelings.

Victor turned back in surprise to see the female earl, her face flushed red, a look of shy indignation making her unutterably beautiful.

If Narsen had stumbled upon Andria using a Wizard to extract intelligence from the Centaur, she surely would have been killed on the spot. Victor was stronger than Andria, and he felt no guilt in coercing her to come out. But he never expected her to react like an ordinary noble lady, assuming he was about to make a move on her.

Victor was dumbfounded. His intention had been to get away from the prying eyes of the camp guards and find a secluded place to talk with Andria. Now, though… he had to admit that the Stormwind female knight’s display of frail shyness was incredibly seductive. His gaze slowly grew playful.

His Highness Randall’s half-smile flustered Andria. Her eyes darted about for a moment before she lowered her head to stare at the tips of her feet, her rouge-like cheeks puffing out.

An ambiguous atmosphere began to rise in the moonlit forest.

Victor admired Andria’s delicate state, but he had no ulterior motives. High-ranked Knights were immune to aging and disease. The course of their lives was a transformation from “human” to “divine.” The moment their divine nature completely replaced their humanity was the moment they returned to the origin of the world. Although High-ranked Knights could control their emotions, the experience of humanity was still important to them. Andria was currently lost in a self-induced “human state,” imagining herself a frail, helpless noble lady instead of the powerful Gale Knight she was.

I should just play along with a teasing look. If she thinks she can take advantage of me… no way!

The training the little Baron had received told Victor that if he ignored a high-ranking female knight’s “shyness,” she would instantly change her tune. He tried a more subtle approach to shift her focus, smiling as he said, “I’m taking you to my camp. I have two battle priests there. If they were to learn that the Wimbledon female earl keeps a Wizard, what do you suppose would happen?”

Andria lifted her head and shot Victor a “resentful” glance before lowering her eyes again. Biting her lip, she asked in a small voice, “What does Your Highness want of me?”

She’s really getting into this role-playing game… Victor resisted the urge to palm his face and said flatly, “You’d be caught red-handed. The evidence would be irrefutable. Even if Duke Baselius himself went to Patriarch Flidis to plead for you, it would be useless…”

“…I have a husband.”

“What?” Victor was having trouble following the female earl’s train of thought.

“It’s because Your Highness is the one accusing me that Patriarch Flidis won’t be able to protect me.” Andria summoned the courage to look directly into Victor’s unusual, dark gold eyes, then half-closed her lids and added with righteous conviction, “I have a husband… I will not yield to your threats.”

Her long, slender, fair fingers twisted together. The anxious body language paired with her defiant declaration was a clear attempt to provoke him… Victor’s thoughts were in a jumble. He didn’t know what to say. After a moment, he continued, “You would be stripped of your title and forced to take on a new identity to continue managing the Wimbledon family in the Sasan Empire…”

“It’s also possible I would be exiled to the south. Your Highness could secretly arrange for me to serve in the Centaur Hills, and be your… your…” Andria’s face flushed crimson. She nibbled her cherry lips, unable to continue.

Victor’s face was blank. “You’re overthinking things… I just wanted to say, as a High-ranked Knight, you have more options.”

“Isn’t that it? Other than myself, I can’t imagine what else Your Highness could possibly want from me,” Andria said as if to herself. “Three thousand years ago, His Majesty Draven Wimbledon revived the Wimbledon family. Now, His Highness Victor Wimbledon is preparing to found a great southern empire, so naturally, you must reunite the Wimbledon family. The Wimbledons of the Iron Mountain Empire are a branch that Your Highness must bring into the fold, and as it happens, you’ve caught me with leverage…”

Victor shook his head wearily and waved a hand. “You can go. Just pretend I was never here.”

“What?” Andria asked, her voice a mix of shock and doubt.

“You may return,” Victor stated, before taking off toward Eaglenest Mountain on his own.

Andria’s mouth fell slightly open. Her slender eyebrows gradually furrowed. She stomped her foot in frustration, then channeled her Aura and gave chase, pursuing Victor as fast as the wind.

After running for a while, Victor stopped and turned. “Why are you still following me?”

“…I…” Andria hesitated. “I don’t believe Your Highness would let me go so easily.”

“You’re right. How could I possibly let you go so easily?” Victor laughed silently. He walked toward Andria, reached out a hand to cup her elegantly curved chin, and wrapped his other arm around her slender waist, pulling the female earl into his arms with a slight tug.

Their faces were so close he could feel her breath. Flustered and shy, Andria’s breath was as fragrant as an orchid as she warned, “If you dare kiss me, I’ll bite you… Mmph.”

Their shadows naturally merged into one. They kissed for a long while. Utterly satisfied, Andria gave Victor’s lip a gentle bite and pushed herself from his embrace. She let out a melancholy sigh. “Now I can finally make up my mind to leave Aiclet.”

Victor touched his lips and shrugged. “It was just a kiss. I’m not giving you a partner’s ring.”

Andria shot Victor a flirtatious glare, then let out a chuckle. Tilting her head, she raised an eyebrow and said, “Your Highness is truly bold.”

“And you are quite brave yourself,” Victor said with a shake of his head.

Their recent intimate encounter had been both dangerous and thrilling for them both. Andria had been fully confident she could kill Victor, but she didn’t know that his Void Walk could evade one fatal attack. Unless her mastery of the Elemental Sea was on the same level as Sylvia’s, she couldn’t harm him at all.

After that passionate kiss, Andria had established a preliminary trust in Victor. She took his arm, and they strolled through the woods. “I grew up listening to the stories of my ancestor, Draven,” she said softly. “The love story of His Majesty Draven and Empress Verodica was something I yearned for. I used to fantasize that I was Empress Verodica, marrying His Majesty Draven and living happily ever after. Aiclet is a descendant of His Majesty Draven. By marrying him, I fulfilled part of my fantasy about the Sun Elves. But Aiclet is not His Majesty Draven, and I could never be like Empress Verodica. I tried to control him… We drifted further and further apart, causing each other great pain.”

“Your Highness’s kiss has fulfilled all my fantasies about the Sun Elves. It helped me make up my mind to make a clean break with Aiclet.”

Victor’s voice was solemn. “You love your husband very much.”

Andria was silent for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, we were in love. But I couldn’t control my temper, and his every concession was a blow to his knight’s conviction… Love should not be an obstacle on a knight’s path. I must let him go.”

“I can let go of a love, but I will never let go of the Wimbledon family.”

Andria gently brushed her hair back from her face and said with determination, “Just now, I said Your Highness wanted to reunite the Wimbledons. In truth, that is my wish. My conviction is to restore the Wimbledon family in the Iron Mountain Empire.” She paused, then gave a shy smile. “I also wanted to establish the status of the Iron Mountain Wimbledons as the true line… With Your Highness here, it seems that wish can no longer be fulfilled.”

Cohesion and appeal determined the true line. Any minor noble, regardless of their family name, could change their surname to Wimbledon upon manifesting the Moon Elf bloodline, and their descendants would have a chance to become Wind Knights. The various kingdoms had established Wimbledon families and claimed to be the true line in order to absorb the Moon Elf bloodline and cultivate Wind Knights. If one Wimbledon family were to monopolize all the wind-element Great Knights in the human kingdoms, one could only imagine how terrifying that would be. That was why the Wimbledons of the Iron Mountain Empire had been divided by the major powers. Andria’s wish was doomed to fail. Even Victor could only shout about being the true line; no one would question his status, but no one would allow lowly Moon Elf nobles to flow into the Gambis Kingdom either.

Victor nodded as if it were a matter of course. “I am the true line of Wimbledon.”

Andria lowered her head with a faint smile and changed the subject. “Your Highness said I have many options. Are you inviting me to your southern kingdom? I will not betray Baselius, nor will I leave the prosperous Iron Mountain Empire… just to run off to some poor, remote backwater in the south.”

“Poor, remote backwater?”

Compared to the red soil of the Northern Wildlands, which yielded two harvests a year, the southern kingdom could indeed be called a backwater. Victor shook his head with a wry smile and said thoughtfully, “We have the impassable natural barrier of the Goldwater River and the boundless Southern Continent.”

Andria blinked, then asked hesitantly, “What does Your Highness mean?”

“It’s just as you think.” Victor nodded and smiled meaningfully. “I don’t need you to betray Baselius… Perhaps one day, we will also have to seek refuge in the north. Who knows? Whether a northern lord or a southern lord, having an extra escape route is never a bad thing.”

The female earl was visibly moved. After a moment’s thought, she said softly, “This is a matter Your Highness should discuss with the two Dukes of Baselius.”

“Who I talk to is my business.”

Victor raised an eyebrow. “Baselius, the Gold Bloodline. They don’t need any help from the Gambis Kingdom. But what about you? Baselius has four great Marquess vassals. If trouble brews in the north, can the Ironmount Royal Family really take all its vassals to develop the Southern Continent?”

“I can guarantee that the Iron Mountain Wimbledons will have a place on the Southern Continent. Likewise, if trouble comes to the south and the Lord of Gambis must move north for safety, the Iron Mountain Wimbledons must support me to the best of their ability.”

Andria’s long, straight brows furrowed in thought. After a moment, she took Victor’s hand and broke into a smile. “I cannot refuse Your Highness’s proposal. But for something so important, a mere kiss is not enough for me to trust Your Highness’s sincerity…”

A strange look crossed Victor’s face. His dark gold eyes scanned the stunningly beautiful female earl from head to toe, his sharp gaze seemingly able to pierce through her leather armor.

A delicate blush once again rose on Andria’s fair, jade-like face. “A marriage alliance through fostering… Only with such a bond can I believe what Your Highness says.”

A marriage alliance through fostering was a traditional way to form an alliance. When Andria proposed this condition, Victor was dumbfounded. “Right now,” he said in disbelief, “I’m not sure whether to doubt your political wisdom or your sincerity. The leader of the southern expansion forming a marriage alliance through fostering with a great noble of the Iron Mountain Empire? The upper echelons of the Church would lose sleep over that. Do you not believe that the moment we form this alliance, the Church will immediately throw its full support behind the Kingdom of Borea and the Randt Imperial territory to compete directly with us?”

“Ah?” Andria covered her mouth, her eyes filled with blank-faced grievance.

Victor smiled teasingly. “You were the one who asked for a kiss. I had no reason not to kiss you…”

Andria was mortified. Stomping her foot, her face beet red, she retorted petulantly, “Who asked you for a kiss? You were clearly forcing me!”

Victor shrugged. “Alright, as long as you came to my doorstep of your own accord, I couldn’t possibly refuse the Iron Mountain branch of the Wimbledons. Just as you said, Sylvia, Auguste, and I all have thoughts of absorbing the Wimbledons. If the northern lords truly need to seek refuge on the Southern Continent, I guarantee I will prioritize the Iron Mountain Wimbledon branch. We can have a marriage alliance through fostering once Gambis establishes a great southern empire.”

“…And before that.”

Victor took an ancient gold coin from the small pouch at his waist and tossed it into the air. A faint blue arc of light flashed, and the tumbling coin split into two irregular halves in mid-air. The airflow carried them down into Victor’s and Andria’s palms respectively.

“This is a war trophy I seized from Little Calf Village, an early gold coin from the Iron Mountain Empire.” Victor held up his half of the coin. “It will serve as the token of our secret alliance. You or your heir can present this token to the House of Randell to request my aid. As long as your request does not harm my fundamental interests, I will do everything in my power to support you. Likewise, the Iron Mountain Wimbledons must also abide by this secret pact.”

“Under this moonlight, I swear on my Moon Elf bloodline to uphold my promise. If I break it, may my Moon Elf bloodline dissipate,” Victor said solemnly.

Andria clutched the token coin tightly, her voice filled with joy. “Good, I hereby swear…”

“Darling, you don’t need to make an oath.”

Victor said flatly, “I will not violate my bloodline oath, and I’m not worried that you will break your word.”

Andria faltered for a second, a sweet smile gracing the corner of her lips. She curtsied and said gently, “As you wish, my noble Your Highness of Wimbledon.”

The token of the half-coin lowered Andria’s psychological defenses. A look of admiration shimmered in her bright eyes as she walked shoulder-to-shoulder with Victor back toward the camp.

As they walked, Victor said, “I came here for two reasons. One, to survey the terrain of Eaglenest Mountain, and two, to hunt for treasure.”

“Treasure? There’s treasure here?” Andria asked with a bright smile, her arm linked with Victor’s.

“Mhm.” Victor nodded and recounted the story of the battle at Little Calf Village. Andria’s beautiful eyes sparkled with a strange light. “Siegfried’s luck is truly incredible,” she said, her voice a mix of envy and chagrin. “Without that Kobold Chieftain, who would have thought a rich Mithril ore vein was hidden beneath Little Calf Village.”

Victor laughed. “A rich Mithril mine lured the Kobold Lord ninety kilometers away from Eaglenest Mountain to Little Calf Village. So, it’s not impossible that there’s a Mithril mine around Eaglenest Mountain. After all, we found over twenty pounds of Mithril in the Kobold’s treasure hoard.”

Hearing this, Andria’s eyes lit up. “Your Highness believes there’s another, ordinary Mithril mine nearby?” she pressed.

“Whether there’s a Mithril mine nearby, and whether you can find it, depends on your luck and skill,” Victor remarked nonchalantly, then changed the subject. “We’re heading to the northern war zone of the eastern defensive line tomorrow morning. What’s the situation over there?”

Once Victor leaves Eaglenest Mountain with the battle priests, I can stay here for a few more days, catch a Dragon-blooded Kobold, and have Wizard Wood temporarily acquire its treasure-finding ability to search for any potential Mithril or Adamantine mines… Andria was secretly overjoyed. Her smile was like a blooming flower as she said, “Ever since Uther and Auroxia joined forces, we have successfully retaken all the pioneer villages except for Giantwood Village. We can now confirm that the beastman leader entrenched in Giantwood Village is a Gold-rank Bear-monster Elder.”

“I will go to Giantwood Village and take care of it.”

Victor nodded and gestured with his hand. “Andria, you may return.”

Andria gazed deeply at Victor, then suddenly leaned in and kissed him on the lips. Giggling, she leaped backward and vanished into the woods in an instant, her bell-like laughter drifting on the night wind.

“…Your Highness tastes so good.”

The Wimbledon female earl had a blind spot in her thinking. She believed that since Victor’s status was higher and his strength greater, she needed his help more. In reality, Victor’s grand plans involved all the human kingdoms, and he had far more use for the Iron Mountain Wimbledons than she knew.

For starters, having Andria and her Wizard dig for treasure around Eaglenest Mountain would save Victor a great deal of effort. The Core of the Earth couldn’t fly away. Once she dug it up, Victor would find a suitable opportunity to quietly collect it. And even if there were no ruins of the Alchemical Empire on Eaglenest Mountain, the Wizard who could understand the beastman tongue was highly valuable in himself.

Only by controlling multiple intelligence channels could Gambis’s main reinforcements avoid falling into unforeseen, dangerous traps.

A smile played on Victor’s lips as he turned and sped toward the camp of his Randall Personal Guard.

Chapter 631: The Bear-monsters of Giantwood (Part 1)

Victor led his contingent north, arriving at Dagger Village in the northern part of the eastern defensive line at noon three days later. It should now be called Dagger Barracks.

Over ten thousand men camped outside the Dagger Barracks. The nearby green wheat had already been hastily harvested, and the able-bodied men were busy modifying the barracks. They were constructing a stockade wall with three layers of logs, each as thick as a man’s waist. The space between the layers was filled with mortar, earth, and gravel to fortify the wall and increase its thickness. An arrow tower was erected every hundred meters. From afar, heavy crossbowmen with sharp eyes spotted War Beast Knights approaching from the south and blew their signal whistles.

Two Griffin cavalry from the Baselius family led a squad of cavalry to meet Victor and his men. The two groups met and exchanged salutes, and the Griffin cavalry then guided Victor’s contingent into the Dagger Barracks.

Duke Utheryn Baselius, clad in dark gold armor, was waiting by the drawbridge. He greeted them with a smile, “Cousin Victor, you’re two days later than I expected.”

Victor hopped off his Horned Wolf, stroked his mount’s neck, and unbuckled the longsword from his waist, handing it to Charlotte who stood beside him. He smiled back at Duke Baselius, “We were delayed for a few days in Little Calf Village.”

“I heard. You captured a Kobold lord in Little Calf Village and discovered a Mithril-rich ore vein. His Highness Zieg Frederick obtained the lordship of Little Calf Village. His good fortune is truly enviable.”

Duke Baselius half-turned his body, gestured with one hand, and said with a smile, “Come, let’s go inside to talk.”

Victor walked shoulder to shoulder with Utheryn across the drawbridge and into the barracks gate. Without needing any instruction, Kalomon, the battle priest accompanying him, called over the garrison soldiers to help the Randell personal guard tend to their mounts and arrange for food and lodging.

The open ground of Dagger Barracks was filled with military tents, and everywhere he looked, there were robust soldiers with a valiant air. Victor estimated there were about three thousand warriors inside the barracks. Including the soldiers’ camp and temporary stables outside, Duke Baselius had assembled at least five thousand cavalry.

An ordinary viscounty would be considered well-off to have six hundred elite cavalry. Victor had spent a decade focusing on development and commanded a military force of over fifty thousand, including the mountain folk hunters. But if the alchemical humans were excluded, the Randell Earldom had less than eight hundred vassal soldiers to its name, and only 344 elite cavalry.

The House of Randell had a shallow heritage, and its loyal vassals spanned only two generations. These three hundred-some elite cavalry were all Silver Moon Attendants carefully cultivated by Victor, Narsen, and Nicole to be the seeds for the centurions of the Grand Legion. Victor would feel the sting of losing even one Silver Moon Cavalryman; if the majority were sacrificed, his plans for military expansion would suffer a major setback.

The vassal families under a great lord passed down their traditions for generations; the elite cavalry they trained were surely an armed force intended for offensive campaigns. The five thousand elite cavalry Duke Baselius had assembled were sufficient to fight a small-scale battle.

There were no major battles on the eastern defensive line at the moment. Had so many elite cavalry been gathered at Dagger Barracks to deal with the beastmen entrenched in Giantwood Village?

Was that beastman force so powerful that it required the mobilization of a duchy’s worth of elite cavalry?

Utheryn noticed Victor’s confusion and took the initiative to explain, “To reclaim Giantwood Village at the northernmost tip, I’m afraid we’ll have to fight a great battle… Cousin Victor, let’s talk inside.”

Baselius led Victor into a command post converted from a warehouse. A sliver of sunlight streamed through a window, falling directly onto the round table in the middle of the great hall and illuminating the animal hide map.

Victor, Charlotte, Narsen, and the battle priest Kalomon stepped forward to examine the map on the table. After a moment, Duke Baselius coughed lightly. Charlotte and Narsen took a few steps back, accentuating the leading roles of Victor and Priest Kalomon.

The Duke approached the round table, pointed to a corner of the map, and began his introduction. “This is Giantwood Village. A simple road connects it to Dagger Barracks, about forty-eight kilometers in total. To the north of Giantwood Village is a large forest, and the village was originally built as a logging point. When the Centaur army launched a surprise attack on the East Pioneer Fief defensive line, a tribe of Bear-monsters also emerged from Giantwood Forest. They occupied Giantwood Village and gathered a large number of Goblin vassals. Now, the Giantwood Bear-monsters control nearly twenty thousand Goblins.”

Priest Kalomon, who had red hair and blue eyes, looked up, his expression grave as he asked, “Your Highness Baselius, how many War Bear-monsters are in Giantwood Village?”

“There are over six hundred Bear-monsters in Giantwood Village, with no fewer than two hundred War Bear-monsters, as well as eleven Great Bear-monsters and one Bear-monster Elder.”

Kalomon, who hailed from the House of Relgarrel, sucked in a sharp breath and muttered, “This is trouble.”

Bear-monsters were half-bear, half-man, bipedal humanoid intelligent species. Human scholars never debated their name, calling them Bear-monsters rather than half-bear men because these intelligent creatures were truly strange, so much so that they couldn’t even be classified as beastmen.

Few people ever encountered Bear-monsters. It was said that common Bear-monsters lived deep within great forests, sustaining themselves by gathering and hunting, and were capable of making leather armor and weapons. Their strength was three times that of a normal human, but they were gentle, shy, and mysterious, rarely leaving their tribal territory. As they aged, a portion of the common Bear-monsters would undergo a natural mutation. Their bodies would become thicker and heavier, and they would switch from walking upright to walking on all fours. Their strength would soar as their intelligence declined, while their psychic intuition grew sharper and their temperament more ferocious, until they completely transformed into a giant bear, evolving towards a Savage state.

An adult male brown bear’s territory ranged from forty to one hundred square kilometers, to say nothing of a Savage giant bear.

The transformed Bear-monsters would not leave their kin, but they required more food, especially meat. When their numbers grew to a certain point, the Bear-monster tribe would venture outside the forest to find food, even going so far as to attack the territories of other intelligent species to plunder food. The transformed Bear-monsters thus earned the name War Bear-monsters.

A very small number of War Bear-monsters could regain their wisdom and ability to speak. They were invariably in a Deeply Savaged State, hulking beasts weighing nearly one and a half tons, with enough strength to knock over an Ogre Warlord with a single swipe.

Large in size, great in strength, huge in appetite… Great Bear-monster was a fitting name.

Great Bear-monsters had completely mastered their transformation abilities, able to switch naturally between their common and war forms. With both wisdom and wildness coexisting within them, they stepped into a mysterious realm. They were the Gold rank Bear-monster Elders.

The progression from common Bear-monster to War Bear-monster, to Great Bear-monster, and finally to Bear-monster Elder was, in fact, a process of a Bear-monster’s deep exploration and subtle control over its body and mind. It was a life-changing process from mortal to extraordinary. A step further would be the convergence of the internal and external, the Light of the Mind that transcends the mundane and enters sainthood.

Bear-monster Elders possessed spell-like abilities. The number of abilities they mastered varied with their level. Even the most common Bear-monster Elders knew the War Roar; their cries could make even gentle, common Bear-monsters focused in battle, boosting their morale and courage.

Knights believed the Bear-monster Elder’s War Roar was equivalent to a berserk potion; the clergy understood it as a Mass Heroism Art; Victor’s understanding was that the Bear-monsters temporarily gained more than one point to their Spirit attribute.

An increase in Spirit triggered a qualitative change in all attributes. The Bear-monster Elder’s War Roar was similar to a barbarian singer’s battle cry, with extraordinary effects.

Utheryn Baselius said with a solemn expression, “The problem of Giantwood Village has been delayed for too long. The Bear-monsters have gathered over ten thousand Goblins, and their strength has swelled dangerously, becoming a great hidden danger to the northern war zone of the eastern defensive line. Once they finish eating the green wheat around Giantwood Village, they will surely attack Dagger Barracks.”

“Auroxia and I have tried twice to assassinate the Bear-monster Elder, and both attempts failed. Those Hobgoblins have tamed a pack of wild wolves, and the outskirts of Giantwood Village are filled with Goblins and Bugbears. We couldn’t infiltrate the village and were driven away both times by the combined efforts of the Bear-monster Elder and the Great Bear-monsters.”

The Duke paused, his expression calm as he said, “Now, our only option is a head-on confrontation with the monsters of Giantwood Village.”

Battle Priest Kalomon sighed heavily and nodded. “The key is that there are too many Goblins. Nearly twenty thousand Goblins means at least several dozen Hobgoblins and over five hundred Bear-headed Goblins, plus over two hundred War Bear-monsters and the Bear-monster Elder… This will be a tough fight.”

Utheryn turned to Victor and said apologetically, “I’m sorry, Cousin Victor. Auroxia and I alerted the Bear-monster Elder, so Giantwood Village is now heavily guarded. I’m afraid it will be very difficult for you to sneak in and assassinate the Elder again. Auroxia is keeping an eye on the movements of the Giantwood Bear-monsters. Priest Kent and Deputy Commander Wallace have already agreed to join us with eight hundred Sacred Warriors within ten days. Once they arrive at Dagger Barracks, we will attack Giantwood Village together.”

Kalomon struck his fist into his palm and said with renewed vigor, “With old Kent and Wallace coming, we’ll slay the Bear-monster Elder on the battlefield.”

Giantwood Village was sealed tight by a sea of Goblins, and neither Utheryn nor Kalomon believed that the Gold-Eyed Earl could assassinate the Bear-monster Elder alone. Victor, however, just smiled faintly. “If the Bear-monster Elder isn’t eliminated first, many warriors will be sacrificed. I have to at least give it a try… Cousin Utheryn, please call Cousin Auroxia back. With her in a standoff with the Bear-monster Elder outside Giantwood Village, I won’t find any opportunity to strike.”

“Narsen, inform the personal guard that we will rest here at Dagger Barracks for a night and set out before noon tomorrow.”

“Kalomon, changing the warhorses and preparing supplies will be your responsibility… Prepare extra supplies, we might be in Giantwood Forest for about ten days.”

After giving orders to his right and left hands, Victor smiled at Duke Baselius. “Cousin Utheryn, there’s still some time before the Evening Banquet. If there’s nothing else, I’d like to take a hot bath… a dozen or so days trekking through the Pioneer Fief war zone has left me tense and uncomfortable. It’s a good chance to relax.”

His Highness Randell possessed the Wind Walk talent, so his entire body was clean and spotless; he didn’t need a bath, of course. But the others did.

Utheryn glanced at the beautiful and gentle, blonde-haired, blue-eyed female knight behind Victor. A mischievous smile appeared on his face as he clapped Victor on the shoulder and chuckled, “Cousin, I’ve arranged a quiet rest house for you. I’ll have someone take you and Knight Charlotte there now.”

Victor paused for a moment, then shook his head with a wry smile. Just as Sword Saint Draven’s romantic affairs were a favorite topic among the nobles, his own scandals were also gossip for the noble circles to discuss over tea. Judy had originally been just a minor noble in the Gambis Kingdom, but ever since she began to serve His Highness Randell, she had entered the sights of the great lords of various nations. Even Duke Utheryn of the Gold Bloodline knew her by her alias, Charlotte, and was now using it to tease Victor.

Regardless, the subtle, amorous joke bridged the distance between them. At the very least, Utheryn had succeeded in clapping his Cousin Victor on the shoulder.

After leaving the temporary command hall, Victor didn’t need to worry about trivial matters; Narsen and Kalomon would handle them properly. He took Charlotte directly to the secluded villa to rest.

That evening, Auroxia returned to Dagger Barracks. During the Evening Banquet, Victor listened to a detailed intelligence report on the Bear-monsters of Giantwood Village, and a plan to lure and kill the Bear-monster Elder gradually formed in his mind.

At noon the next day, the Randell personal guard, having changed their warhorses, left Dagger Barracks with sixty Swiftbirds. The second generation of the Randell family’s Swiftbirds were just ordinary birds of prey. To preserve their combat stamina, the Swiftbird light cavalry used warhorses for transportation and to carry supplies. Patriarch Flidis had provided four Horned Wolves for Victor. He and three senior knights each rode one. Narsen still preferred the Auguste family’s six-legged Swift Dragon. With the ten clergy members also on Horned Wolves, the entire contingent of over one hundred twenty people and seventy-five war beasts set off towards the dangerous Giantwood Village.

The Bear-monster Elder possessed both wisdom and wild intuition. Victor had no intention of revealing himself prematurely. He sat in the Horned Wolf’s saddle, activated his X-3, and entered the Life Concealment of the Golden Toad Mystic Form. His spiritual aura was withdrawn, and his eyes grew deep and profound. The contingent deliberately took a circuitous route, avoiding the scouts of the Giantwood Village beastmen and turning towards Giantwood Forest.

The overall strength of Randell’s personal guard was formidable, and their ill intent towards the Bear-monsters of Giantwood Village would be difficult to hide from the Bear-monster Elder’s psychic intuition. However, Victor had concealed his aura, rendering himself nearly invisible, and the others posed no serious threat to the Elder. The beastmen of Giantwood Village did not mobilize to intercept them, so Victor and his subordinates slipped into Giantwood Forest without any trouble.

This was thanks to Auroxia. She had been in a long-distance standoff with the Bear-monster Elder for over ten days, her killing intent as sharp as ice. The Elder’s mind was under intense pressure and needed a respite. With the arrival of Randell’s personal guard, it chose to turn a blind eye.

The clash on the mental plane was imperceptible to ordinary people. Victor’s little attendant knights were all finding it hard to hide their excitement, but the Ferocious Warriors from Quicksilver Manor were terrified; Narsen’s muscles were relaxed, but his hands never left the hilt of his Decapitation Sword as he walked silently at the head of the column; Caligula frequently glanced towards Giantwood Village, sticking close to Victor’s side. Only when the contingent moved deeper into the forest did the tense emotions of the Ferocious Warriors gradually ease.

Narsen led the contingent onward for a while longer before stopping with some uncertainty. He scanned his surroundings, his gaze falling on the motionless, statue-like Victor. After some thought, he asked the big guy, “Aka, which way is safe?”

Caligula pointed north, his big head nodding repeatedly.

The party turned north and arrived near a small forest stream. Victor suddenly spoke, “Let’s make camp here.”

Narsen turned around, his face lighting up with pleasant surprise as he blurted out, “My lord, you’ve come back to life?”

Charlotte and the little attendant knights glared at the impertinent Lord, but Victor simply hopped off the Horned Wolf’s saddle, patted the back of Narsen’s head as he scratched it, and said with a laugh, “Well done… Next time, remember to watch Caligula’s state. If you don’t ask him, he’s liable to lead us straight through this forest.”

Seeing Caligula’s silly grin, Narsen knew the group had finally escaped the Bear-monster Elder’s psychic perception. He couldn’t help but click his tongue in amazement. This location was at least twenty kilometers from Giantwood Village, yet the Bear-monster Elder’s psychic intuition could track them from so far away.

Caligula had felt the Bear-monster Elder’s “gaze,” but it was a passive touch, like being secretly aimed at with a military heavy crossbow. As long as the threat was real, Narsen’s mind could also feel the pressure from the crossbow. But the Bear-monster Elder was actively using its power of the mind to lock onto Randell’s personal guard from twenty kilometers away. This was on a completely different level from Caligula’s passive sense.

It was terrifying.

Narsen suspected that the Bear-monster Elder wasn’t Gold rank at all, but a Legendary monster!

The Church’s research in the psychic domain was unparalleled, as faith itself was the gathering of the believers’ power of the mind, converting it into the Light of the Mind. Priest Kalomon was a senior knight from the House of Relgarrel. He couldn’t perceive the Bear-monster Elder’s shadow, but he could read the unfathomable danger from the cautious behavior of the Ferocious Warriors and the Gold-Eyed Earl.

“Your Highness, what are we doing next?”

Charlotte, the two Rose Knights, and the Adjudicator also gathered around Victor. The atmosphere of the group instantly became tense and solemn.

“With me and Caligula here, none of you need to worry.”

There was no doubting His Highness Randell’s Legendary-rank strength. When he released his aura, no powerful monster or ferocious beast would dare approach. The big guy, though timid, could accurately predict danger. With Caligula acting as an early warning system, the entire contingent had the upper hand in both space and time. Even if the Bear-monster Elder did track them down, they were confident they could kill it by working together. If the Elder brought a group of Bear-monsters and Goblins, those monsters would inevitably slow it down, giving them plenty of time to relocate.

Victor offered no further explanation. He turned to Caligula and asked, “Aka, when we first entered the forest, which direction did you think we couldn’t go… If we went there, would the monster scaring you get angry and chase us?”

Caligula pointed southeast and said with lingering fear, “That way… Aka is scared, Master don’t go.”

Victor nodded and summoned his Horned Wolf mount, taking out the Eagle Wing Warbow and two sealed quivers from the side pouch on its back. He slung the warbow over his shoulder, and as he checked his Adamantine longsword, he said, “You all make camp here. I’ll go take a look alone. I’ll be back by the second half of the night at the latest.”

Charlotte stepped forward, her willow-like brows furrowed as she said with deep concern, “My… My master, I want to go with you.”

Victor embraced his favored mistress and Sworn Knight without any hesitation, comforting her, “My dear, it’s safer and freer for me to act alone… Don’t worry, the Ash Falcon can find me, and it can find all of you.”

With that, he gently pushed Charlotte away, leaped backward, and silently melted into the night of Giantwood Forest.

Chapter 632: Giantwood Bear-monsters (Part 2)

Wrapped in a gentle current of air, Victor zipped between the giant trees, riding the wind.

He had never seen trees so enormous. The smallest were so thick it would take four men to encircle one, standing over thirty meters tall; the largest required ten adults holding hands to surround them, their crowns soaring nearly a hundred meters into the air like pillars holding up the sky.

There were likely even larger trees in the forest, as the biggest one he had seen had just broken the record of the one from three minutes prior.

The York family’s collection of botanical illustrations had no information on these giant trees, but the knowledge contained within the Will Side of the Alchemical militia did.

They were Dragon Claw Trees, capable of growing up to one hundred and fifty meters tall, with lifespans measured in millennia. Their nuts were rich in nutrients, easy to store, and could serve as winter provisions for animals. Every autumn, ripe nuts the size of a grown man’s head would fall from branches dozens of meters high, invariably killing a few reckless fools. By the Season of Water, the Dragon Claw Tree forest floor would be littered with delicious and nutritious nuts, attracting countless animals to feast.

The nuts from a single fifty-meter-tall Dragon Claw Tree could provide enough winter rations for twenty adults.

But the height and bounty of the Dragon Claw Trees were not the main point. They had endured through the long ages, witnessing the rise and fall of the Alchemical Empire. They existed within the Will Side of the alchemical creatures, living fossils as ancient as the Bear-monsters themselves.

The laws of nature rarely change. Forests with Dragon Claw Trees were never dense. They were too massive, needing to dominate large swathes of soil to absorb nutrients. Each Dragon Claw Tree was like a lord, permitting grasses and shrubs to grow beneath it but repelling other trees. The sparse woods allowed sunlight to reach the ground, which in turn created space for large creatures to live and procreate. In contrast, the Gloomy Forest of Gambis, with its dense redwood trees, was dark and damp, its floor never seeing sunlight year-round, home only to moss and humus. Naturally, no large animals would take residence there.

The fruit of the Dragon Claw Trees provided abundant food for animals. Along the way, Victor saw beautiful stags and herds of wild boar; he even discovered the footprints of a Giant Rhinoceros Beast.

The abundance of herbivores attracted predators. The howls of wild wolves rose and fell through the Giantwood Forest, occasionally punctuated by the low roars of spotted tigers declaring their territory. The only sound missing was the cackling laughter of Gnolls on a nightly hunt.

The ecosystem of the Giantwood Forest could completely satisfy the food requirements of the Bear-monster clan. It seemed they had no need to leave their tribal lands to wage wars of plunder against the intelligent races outside the forest.

One could only say that humans knew far too little about the deep-forest-dwelling Bear-monsters.

Victor’s steps were light and silent. With a single leap, he could cover more than ten meters. Nocturnal animals could only see a blurry shadow flickering through the woods. Before they could even cry out, the shadow had vanished into the night.

Caligula had pointed him in a general direction. Victor had to move quickly while using his X-3 to filter out background noise and search for the specific location of the Bear-monster lair. However, he couldn’t use Apocalypse while casually exploring, as it wouldn’t shield him from the wild intuition of ferocious beasts. Fortunately, the Great Bear-monsters guarding the lair wouldn’t abandon their weaker kin to flee their territory alone. They would, however, try to remain as quiet as possible, hoping this unknown, powerful presence would simply pass them by.

Victor climbed a fifty-meter Dragon Claw Tree and sat in its crown, entering the Life Concealment state of his Golden Toad Mystic Form to enhance his extraordinary Perception and listen to every sound carried on the night wind.

Wolf howls and tiger roars, the chirping of insects and calls of deer, the grunting of wild boars, the sighing of wind through branches—X-3 filtered and faded them one by one until Victor, his Spirit highly active, finally caught a set of sounds that had the characteristics of language. The moment he opened his eyes, those sounds instantly became a chaotic jumble, then quickly fell silent again.

Too late!

A smile touched Victor’s lips. He slid down the trunk of the Dragon Claw Tree and darted toward the source of the sound, no longer concealing his presence.

When he was within a kilometer of the source, he once again climbed a Dragon Claw Tree. Standing on a branch, he saw the Bear-monster tribe’s lair.

Hollowed-out Dragon Claw Tree logs lay on a clearing arranged in a circle, serving as both houses and a thick stockade. The Alchemical militia called these simple, exotic wooden huts “Bear Dens.”

Victor could see a half-human, half-bear creature curled up in each Bear Den. They had the broad shoulders of a man and the head of a bear, with tawny-brown fur covering their bodies. Their limbs, torsos, and hands were humanoid, but their feet were like a bear’s paws. These common Bear-monsters were huddled in their dens, not daring to make a sound. Occasionally, a round little Bear-monster cub would poke its head out of a log, only to be immediately snatched back by an adult, a sight that was both amusing and cute.

In the center of the camp squatted four behemoths. They were in their full giant bear form. Even sitting on their haunches, they were 1.9 meters tall; if they stood on their hind legs, they would probably exceed 3.4 meters. Furthermore, the Bear-monsters had a feature that distinguished them from ordinary wild bears: a bear’s toes curl inward, causing them to walk with a “waddling gait” that looks rather clumsy and endearing, whereas the giant bears that the Bear-monsters transformed into had long, straight limbs, allowing them to walk upright, move nimbly, and run swiftly.

These four Bear-monsters squatted there, calm and solid as mountains. Victor spotted them immediately, and their gazes met across the distance. In truth, Bear-monsters had sensitive senses of smell and ahearing, but their eyesight was mediocre; they couldn’t possibly see Victor perched high in the Dragon Claw Tree. They were relying entirely on intuition to lock onto the invader’s position, using their massive bodies to attract the enemy’s attention and intimidate them, forcing them to avoid the Bear-monster camp.

A cold smile touched Victor’s lips. The four Silver-rank Great Bear-monsters combined were no match for him, especially since he now occupied an advantageous position. Four arrows were all it would take to kill them.

However, he had not sought out the Bear-monster lair just to hunt Great Bear-monsters.

In the center of the camp was a pile of embers from a bonfire that had not yet gone out, its smoking, dark-red charcoal scattered all over the ground. Victor had arrived so quickly that the Great Bear-monsters didn’t even have time to extinguish the fire, only to scatter the pile.

Next to the bonfire was a section of a Dragon Claw Tree trunk, carved in the middle with a totem of a giant bear.

The Bear-monsters’ woodworking skills were truly atrocious. Victor had to look closely to determine that it was a bear statue in an abstract style. It was also his target for the night.

Ulobis, the Ancient Behemoth, King of the Jungle, the origin of all bears. The Bear-monsters were His blood-kin offspring.

Regarding the Ancient Behemoths, the Alchemical humans only knew their names and their evolutionary paths downward; there was no more information for Victor to reference. But the knowledge of Bear-monsters did exist within the Alchemical humans’ Will Side.

Bear-monsters were the guardians of the jungle, dedicated to maintaining the ecological balance of their territory’s forest. If the population of either herbivores or predators in the forest grew too large, the Bear-monsters would hunt them. If the number of War Bear-monsters in their tribe increased, the Bear-monsters would leave the forest, using battle and plunder to awaken the wisdom of the War Bear-monsters.

For some unknown reason, Bear-monsters that left the forest would always find Hobgoblins. Any beastmen who enslaved Goblins were their primary targets for annihilation. Once the Bear-monsters had liberated the Goblin population from the beastmen, they would live together. When the Bear-monsters returned to the forest, all the War Bear-monsters incapable of awakening their wisdom would be left in the care of the Goblins—or rather, the Bear-monsters abandoned their bestialized kin, leaving them to be enslaved by the Goblins.

The relationship between Bear-monsters and Goblins was delicate, yet they did not permit Goblins to enter their forest territory. In fact, Bear-monsters were hostile to any intelligent race that entered the forest, especially Gnolls.

Gnolls were the Bear-monsters’ natural nemesis. A forest with Bear-monsters would have absolutely no Gnoll activity, and one couldn’t find a trace of Bear-monsters in a forest occupied by Gnolls.

That was why Giantwood Village only had Bear-monsters and Goblins. The Goblins’ Ogre bodyguards, Kobold craftsmen, and Gnoll slaves had all ended up in the bellies of the War Bear-monsters and Bear-headed Goblins.

The Bear-headed Goblins looked remarkably similar to common Bear-monsters; it was possible they were relatives.

In the Alchemical Empire era, the Bear-monster Elder was known as a Bear-monster Shaman, possessing two basic spells: Roar and Jungle Domain.

The jungle was the Bear-monster Elder’s domain, where it naturally gained four extra points to its Spirit attribute and possessed four spell-like abilities: Jungle Cover, Barkskin, Nature’s Cure, and Forest Intuition.

The fact that Randall’s Personal Guard had to march a full twenty kilometers through the Giantwood Forest to escape the Bear-monster Elder’s mental perception was due to Forest Intuition at work.

The Bear-monster Shaman was a favored child of the forest. Every sound it made, every trail it left, would be concealed by the forest. A hunter’s mind would be deceived by the forest; they would see the Bear-monster Elder and think it a clump of bushes, hear its footsteps and breathing, and subconsciously ignore them. Even if the Bear-monster Elder was right behind the hunter, they would see nothing and hear nothing.

All recorded human kills of Bear-monster Elders occurred outside the forest. Within the forest, a Bear-monster Elder was absolutely a Legendary-rank monster.

The Bear-monster Elder had some kind of mystical connection with its territorial forest, specifically manifesting as the totem of Ulobis. Destroying the totem wouldn’t weaken the Bear-monster Elder’s abilities, but it would certainly alert it.

Victor took out a Spiral Arrow forged from Adamantine, nocked it on the Spider silk bowstring, drew his Eagle Wing Bow to its full extent, and aimed at the largest of the Bear-monsters.

That Bear-monster immediately turned, its huge paws covering the back of its head, its back facing Victor, as if preparing to take his attack head-on with its powerful body.

Large monsters with Life Tenacity and Elemental Resistance are the most annoying!

The Bear-monster’s傻乎乎的样子倒是有趣… A playful thought bloomed in Victor’s mind. He shifted his aim, and the four Great Bear-monsters, as if commanded by an animal tamer, turned one after another and sat down obediently.

Victor chuckled inwardly. His arrowhead suddenly swung toward the totem carving. With a hum, the special arrow shot forth. The gentle breeze enveloping it turned into a torrent of cyan-black air, causing the arrow to spin at extreme speed as it struck the Dragon Claw wood statue a kilometer away. Before the four Great Bear-monsters could react, there was a sound like tearing silk. The airflow erupted violently, and the statue of Ulobis was torn to pieces in the raging wind.

Gale Spiral Arrow!

The totem statue was only useful to the Bear-monster Shaman. The four Great Bear-monsters in the camp stared blankly, not understanding why the enemy would destroy the statue of their ancestor god.

Victor put away his Eagle Wing Warbow, slid down the Dragon Claw Tree, and sped back toward his personal guard’s position without a backward glance.

Twenty minutes later, Victor reached the perimeter of the temporary camp. He deliberately slowed his pace to alert the sentries on duty and avoid causing a panic in the entire camp.

“My lord, you’ve returned.”

A Griffin Militiaman cloaked and holding a purple sandalwood warbow emerged from behind a tree. He bowed meticulously to Victor before blowing a whistle to signal the master’s safe return.

“Continue your watch.”

“As you command.”

Victor nodded, passed the sentry line, and walked toward the temporary camp.

A few small braziers illuminated the camp. The Swiftbirds had their heads tucked under their wings, curled into fluffy balls. The intelligent Horned Wolves had formed a circle with the warhorses huddled inside, not daring to move. Most of the people were asleep on their felt blankets. Only the two battle priests and a few sword-wielding handmaidens had set up marching tents. A crystal lantern hung outside the largest tent in the middle, marking Victor’s quarters.

A slender, fair hand parted the door flap, and Charlotte, dressed in a light nightgown, gave Victor a sweet smile.

Victor quietly entered the tent and spread his arms, allowing Charlotte to help him remove his armor. He asked with a low laugh, “My dear, why did you change into a nightgown? The Bear-monster Elder might be a Legendary-rank beastman. Aren’t you afraid you won’t have time to escape?”

After removing Victor’s breastplate, Charlotte leaned against his shoulder and said in a delicate voice, “As long as I’m with Your Highness, I’m not afraid of anything… Besides, we have Aka.”

The Bear-monster Elder, the Kobold chieftain, and even the Half-dragons in the Great Marsh could not escape the instincts deep within their bloodlines. It was just like the Alchemical humans; they were created by the Alchemy Tower, and under the effect of the Soul Fire resonance, they saw Victor as an inviolable master. Even if Victor ordered the alchemical creatures to their deaths, they wouldn’t hesitate for a moment. What ordinary people feared as death was, in their eyes, merely a slumber before returning to the Alchemy Tower.

A normal person might not be able to comprehend the Alchemical creatures’ attitude of facing death as if it were a homecoming, but when normal people fear death, is that not also something predetermined by a “god”?

The Bear-monster Elder would never stray far from its forest territory, nor could it betray the bloodline instincts bestowed upon it by the Ancient Behemoth Ulobis, which included helping its kin awaken their wisdom, refusing Goblins entry into the forest… and protecting the jungle.

Because it had to help its kin awaken their wisdom and expel the bestialized War Bear-monsters from the clan, a battle between the beastmen of Giantwood Village and the Dagger Barracks was inevitable. The longer it dragged on, the more Goblins the Bear-monsters would attract, and the more disadvantageous it would be for the human army.

Giantwood Village was packed with Goblins and Bear-monsters. Victor hadn’t yet been able to identify the Bear-monster Elder’s features, making the difficulty and risk of an infiltration and assassination mission extremely high. But if he could separate the Bear-monsters from the Goblins, Victor was completely confident he could kill the Bear-monster Elder.

He believed that the Bear-monster Elder had already sensed that its lair was under attack by a powerful enemy and would definitely be rushing back.

However, when Victor had snuck into the forest, he had evaded the Bear-monster Elder’s perception. It had misjudged the strength of Randall’s personal guard and would most likely dispatch its Great Bear-monsters to hunt down Narsen and the others.

Since the Bear-monsters forbade Goblins from entering their forest territory, as long as they returned to their lair from Giantwood Village, Victor would have countless methods and opportunities to pick off the Bear-monster Elder’s wings and claws one by one, until it was forced to reveal itself.

At that point, killing the Bear-monster Elder would no longer be important. By relentlessly “helping” the Bear-monsters reduce their numbers and maintain the forest’s balance, the Bear-monsters would lose their motivation to attack the Dagger Barracks.

Without the War Bear-monsters who were a match for Ogres, and without the powerful Bear-monster Elder, the Goblins of Giantwood Village couldn’t stir up any trouble.

Of course, if the Bear-monster Elder insisted on hunting down Randall’s personal guard, Victor wouldn’t mind adding a Bear-monster Elder’s hide to his collection.

The jungle was the Bear-monsters’ home turf, but it was also Victor’s. The Bear-monster Elder’s Jungle Cover might be able to fool ordinary Knights, but in front of Victor, it was laughable.

The Bear-monster Elder had Great Bear-monsters and War Bear-monsters; Victor also had four Silver-rank clergy by his side, Narsen and three senior knights, thirty-two Rose Mystic Warriors, eight Alchemical Soldiers, eighteen level-three Gryphon Militiamen, over forty Alchemical militia, and a host of war-fowl and war beasts.

Most importantly, Victor had Caligula.

Caligula’s mind was pure, and his personality timid and cowardly, but timid and cowardly meant harmless. He could fool the mental perception of the vast majority of ferocious monsters, yet he himself could perceive their hostility.

With Caligula around, the Bear-monster Elder’s greatest advantage was nullified.

The cooperation between Victor and Caligula would create a huge advantage where the enemy was exposed and he was hidden. He was confident he could easily assassinate the Bear-monster Elder, even in the forest.

“This battle has actually already begun… victory is in our grasp,” Victor said in a relaxed tone, his arm around Charlotte’s waist.

As he spoke, a huge black shadow was cast upon the tent’s curtain. Caligula stood outside, whimpering like a kitten.

“Master, Master… it’s here… The monster that scared Aka is here.”

The triumphant expression on Victor’s face instantly froze. His eyes immediately turned dark gold. After a moment, he let out a soft laugh and said, “Heh, the more powerful one is, the closer one is to a ‘god’… I underestimated the Bear-monster Elder… My dear, help me with my armor.”

“Aka, wake everyone up. Be on high alert… you’re fighting with us.”

Chapter 633: Oversight and Remedy

Victor and Charlotte helped each other don their armor and were soon fully attired. They grabbed their weapons and stepped out of the tent. In the camp, the guards had already risen from their felt blankets and were beginning their pre-battle preparations.

There were no ordinary people here. Even the twenty Silver Moon Attendants from the Randall Vassal families had undergone a body reconstruction, their physical qualities nearly reaching the minimum standard for a Mystic Warrior, making them even stronger than typical elite cavalry. They took out a special ointment secretly made in the Centaur Hills and fed it to the Swiftbird war-fowl, which had been roused from their sleep.

It was a special stimulant for the Swiftbirds, mixed by Imoson the wizard from raw sugar, coffee powder, and several medicinal herbs to quickly bring them into a focused, battle-ready state of mind.

A groggy mind severely impacts the combat effectiveness of soldiers and their war beasts. Sleeping soundly in an unfamiliar environment, waking up, and maintaining peak mental acuity to deal with sudden situations at any moment was a required lesson for elite warriors. Ordinary people might need to rely on potions or divine arts, but the Source-Blood combat techniques cultivated by the Silver Moon Attendants and the Rose Mystic Warriors had the same effect.

The Swiftbirds ate the tasty potion and chirped excitedly, “Coo, coo.” The Horned Wolves shook their glossy manes and trotted nimbly, one after another, toward the Sacred Warrior animal tamers, their dark red eyes glinting with bloodthirsty cruelty. The warriors silently inspected their equipment and weapons, drawing their heavy crossbows. The clang of metal rubbing and colliding mingled with the murmur of the stream, creating a grim and icy atmosphere.

Charlotte blushed slightly. It was common knowledge for survival in the wilderness not to remove one’s armor on the first night of camping, yet she had wanted to spend a warm, romantic night with her beloved Highness in this strange forest. It seemed now that her tender feelings had been ill-timed. Fortunately, after Caligula’s warning, the soldiers on night watch had extinguished the brazier immediately, so no one had noticed the female knight’s shame and vexation.

I’ll have to peel a Bear-monster’s hide and make a cloak for Victor… Charlotte thought resentfully, biting her lip and gripping the hilt of her sword.

The Gold-Eyed Earl’s sworn female knight worshipped her master almost blindly, believing that a Gold rank Bear-monster Elder would be as easily slain by her Highness as the Ogre Warlord had been.

And so it should be. For a Bear-monster Elder, who fought only in melee, to encounter His Highness Randall—a Legendary archer and a Legendary swordsman—even escape was a wild hope.

Victor was fully confident he could defeat the Bear-monster Elder, yet he maintained the necessary calm and caution. He wasn’t worried about a single Bear-monster Elder, but an entire war party of Bear-monsters led by one.

At that moment, the two battle priests, the two Adjudicators, Narsen, and the two senior knights from Rose Manor all gathered around.

Victor rested a hand on his sword hilt, his dark gold eyes scanning his surroundings, and said in a low voice, “The Bear-monster Elder from Giantwood Village is launching a surprise attack on us. How many Great Bear-monsters and war-bear-monsters it has with it, how far away they are, and when they will reach us, is currently uncertain.”

Everyone’s expression turned grave. Kalomon the priest pondered for a moment and said, “Can we deduce a rough direction and number?”

He was asking Victor, but everyone’s eyes darted between Caligula and Narsen.

The critical role of a deeply savaged warrior before a battle was now on full display.

Narsen, clad in golden Centaur hide armor and carrying two Adamantine beheading swords, stroked the short beard on his chin with one hand and said with a frown, “I can’t sense any danger at all.”

“This… How is this possible?” Kalomon paled in shock, then cast a suspicious glance at Caligula, who was shrinking behind Victor.

Narsen was one of the foremost Ferocious warriors in the human kingdoms. The Ox-Subduing Mystic Form he created was a great help to the Church’s Sacred Warriors. Tournans had publicly declared that “stupid bear” Narsen was his disciple. Almost all the high-ranking clergy of the Church had heard of his reputation. In contrast, only a few had heard that the Randall family’s Caligula had mastered the Touch of the Mind.

Was the Touch of the Mind so easy to master?

Kalamon was skeptical. By comparison, he was more inclined to trust Narsen’s psychic intuition.

Could the Bear-monster Elder’s Jungle Cover actually fool Narsen’s psychic intuition? But could the Great Bear-monsters and war-bear-monsters also conceal their own dangerous, murderous intent, leaving Narsen and the other Ferocious warriors completely unaware?

Doubt crept into Victor’s mind. Seeing Red Wolf, Rogers, and Macy—the other three Ferocious warriors—also looking bewildered, he turned and asked, “Aka, where is the monster that scared you? About how many Bear-monsters are with it? How long until they find us?”

Faced with a barrage of questions, Caligula was a little overwhelmed. He stared at Narsen with wide eyes and stammered, “The monster that scared Aka wants to hit Narsen… Aka doesn’t want to see Narsen get hit by the monster. Master, you go hit the monster… There’s one monster, over there.”

“Just one monster?” Narsen asked, his gaze burning.

Caligula pointed south, toward the Giantwood Forest, and nodded repeatedly. “Yes, one monster.”

Narsen grinned, saying excitedly, “My lord, your act of feigning weakness worked… The Bear-monster Elder fell for it, thinking I am the leader of the group.”

Kalamon the priest, however, said in surprise, “The Bear-monster Elder is coming to raid us alone, to attack Narsen? Is it a mad bear? How is that possible?!”

An elementary Knight who had ignited the fire of the mind was intelligent, skilled at controlling their emotions, and possessed eight times the strength of an ordinary person. Theoretically, an elementary Knight could harm any creature. Including Kalomon himself, there were four senior knights in the camp, while Narsen and the two Adjudicators were powerhouses on par with Silver Knights. In fact, Kalomon, as a battle priest who had mastered 4th-level divine arts and could temporarily gain the power of a Sacred Warrior, was second in strength only to Victor in this party, even though he had not reached Gold rank.

However, psychic intuition could not perceive the power of divine arts. Kalomon was not surprised that the Bear-monster Elder had not targeted him or the two Adjudicators for its decapitation strike. But Randall’s Personal Guard was powerful; Kalomon was certain that the twenty-three Mystic Warriors among them were even a match for ordinary knights.

His Highness Randall was central to the core interests of the Gambis Kingdom. It was only normal for the Auguste royal family to dispatch their most powerful secret art death commandos to protect the Gold-Eyed Earl.

Kalamon was not one to be easily flustered by this. He was certain of one thing: even if the Gold-Eyed Earl did not act, this force was more than enough to kill the Bear-monster Elder in a head-on-confrontation.

When priests, Sacred Warriors, and warriors cooperated, the increase in their combat power was far greater than a simple one-plus-one-equals-two. Moreover, they had dozens of war-fowl and war beasts at their side.

Why would a psychically astute Bear-monster Elder charge headlong into such a powerful force all by itself?

Narsen patted Kalomon’s shoulder and laughed dismissively. “With my master here, why think so much?”

A thought struck Kalomon. He recalled that Tournans could fool the psychic intuition of the Ogre Warlord and the Legendary Centaur, and that His Highness Randall had shown similar abilities when hunting the Gold-rank Gnoll, Windfang. Throughout his journey into the Giantwood Forest, he had remained atop his Horned Wolf, meditating with his eyes closed, likely to conceal his own presence. Afterwards, he had left the camp alone to scout the Bear-monster lair. And then the Bear-monster Elder had come looking, alone.

Clearly, all of this had been orchestrated by the Gold-Eyed Earl.

As for what method His Highness Randall had used to trick the Bear-monster Elder into coming alone to its death? Now was not the time to seek answers. Kalomon had once heard that some powerful monsters could awaken their bloodline memory and acquire ancient knowledge. His Highness Randall had the bloodline of a Sun Elf; it was not impossible that he had learned of the Bear-monsters’ instincts from his own bloodline.

After all, hadn’t Sword Saint Draven inexplicably left the human kingdoms three thousand years ago?

Of course, these words must never reach His Highness Randall’s ears. Anyone who dared to compare the Gold-Eyed Earl to a monster was a heretic and must face the judgment of the Inquisition.

Regardless, the Bear-monster Elder had been deceived by His Highness Randall’s psychic intuition. It was already a dead bear walking.

The Gold-Eyed Earl was world-renowned for his extraordinary wisdom talent. Since this was his plan to lure and kill the Bear-monster, his earlier strange behavior could be explained. No one present dared to question His Highness about the details, but their tense expressions relaxed, and they began to look eager.

To slay a Bear-monster Elder, even just as an assistant to His Highness Randall, was an experience and an honor to be proud of.

Victor’s mind raced, rapidly deducing the reason for the Bear-monster Elder’s solo raid and the risks behind it.

He trusted Caligula’s Touch of the Mind and also believed that the Bear-monster Elder’s solo raid was suicidal, but this was not part of his plan and would inevitably introduce uncontrollable factors.

When two foes meet on a narrow path, the bold one wins—that’s how rats fight in a hole. A true powerhouse shapes the chaotic future into their desired outcome, doing everything possible to prevent a battle with their enemy from degenerating into a brawl between rats.

The battle itself is brief, its outcome clear. The preparations beforehand are what are crucial and brilliant—a clash of wisdom, mind, will, knowledge, and experience between both sides.

The knights and clergy of the human kingdoms thought Bear-monster Elders were just powerful warriors, but they were actually terrifying forest stalkers. The Bear-monster Elder of Giantwood Village could evade Narsen’s psychic intuition, storm the camp, or assassinate anyone within, and then rely on its robust body and healing spells to break out. Kalomon’s idea of overwhelming the Bear-monster Elder with sheer numbers was pure wishful thinking. With a series of surprise attacks, one Bear-monster Elder could wipe out their entire team.

Unfortunately for it, it didn’t know there was a legendary powerhouse in the human party.

Victor hiding his presence and destroying the totem statue in the Bear-monster lair was indeed to mislead the Bear-monster Elder.

When the group passed Giantwood Village, the Bear-monster Elder would have sensed a malicious threat and would have assumed the most powerful one, Narsen, was the leader of the group.

However, Savage beastmen were naturally stronger than Savage humans, and every Great Bear-monster was close to Narsen in strength. Victor had attacked the Bear-monster lair right after entering the forest. The Bear-monster Elder of Giantwood Village would inevitably grow suspicious, thinking that some powerful Gnoll had entered the Giantwood Forest. This was because it would judge that Narsen’s human party could not have defeated its home, guarded by three Great Bear-monsters, so quickly. Moreover, only Gnolls would destroy a Bear-monster totem.

So, what would the Bear-monster Elder do next?

It would probably first dispatch its Great Bear-monsters and war-bear-monsters to investigate the situation at its lair. The reason was simple: most of the Bear-monster tribe was in Giantwood Village. If a powerful Gnoll invader was truly in the Giantwood Forest, the Bear-monster Elder would have to solve the Goblin problem first before returning to the forest to deal with the Gnoll.

In short, the Bear-monsters would not let the Goblins flood into the forest.

Victor didn’t absolutely have to kill the Bear-monster Elder. His goal was to break the alliance between the Bear-monsters and the Goblins. Without the Bear-monsters, the Goblins were not a threat; without the Goblins, the Bear-monster tribe’s war capabilities were also greatly diminished.

Victor had planned to use the tactic of luring the tiger out of the mountains to strike its reinforcements, intercepting the Elder’s returning forces one by one to force it to abandon the Goblins in Giantwood Village and lead its main force back to the Giantwood Forest. If a suitable opportunity arose, Victor wouldn’t mind killing the Bear-monster Elder.

But he had not expected the Bear-monster Elder to return alone, and for its target to be Narsen!

A Bear-monster Shaman, a being of both wildness and wisdom, should not be so reckless… What had gone wrong?

Victor’s brow furrowed. Seeing Caligula gradually straighten his back, a chill ran down his spine, and he asked in a harsh tone, “Aka, is that monster running away now?”

Startled by his master’s unprecedented severity, Caligula stammered, “It… it’s running away.”

“Which way is it running? Is it toward Giantwood Village?” Victor pressed.

The big simpleton pointed south, in the direction of Giantwood Village.

Victor finally understood his oversight. By raiding the Bear-monster camp and destroying the totem statue of the Ancient Behemoth, he had effectively forced the Giantwood Bear-monsters into a two-front war. The Bear-monster Elder had to choose: either deal with the human army at Dagger Barracks first, or deal with the enemy invading its forest territory.

Evidently, the Bear-monster Elder had decided to attack Dagger Barracks first and then turn back to deal with the Gnolls invading its forest territory. To be precise, it had to get rid of the major nuisance of the Goblins before it could deal with its mortal enemies, the Gnolls. Otherwise, once the Goblins entered Giantwood Forest, the Bear-monsters and Goblins would immediately turn on each other. The green-skinned runts would switch their allegiance to the Gnolls, and the Bear-monster tribe could be driven out of the forest.

The Bear-monster Elder wanted to use the human army to wear down the tens of thousands of Goblins, but Narsen’s party had already entered Giantwood Forest. While the Bear-monsters and Goblins were attacking Dagger Barracks, this rather powerful human team posed a threat to Giantwood Village, where the majority of the Bear-monster tribe—the females and the young—resided.

The Bear-monsters left to guard the lair were likely already finished. The Bear-monster Elder could not allow the female bears and cubs in Giantwood Village to be killed by Narsen’s group. It had resolved to first eliminate the rear threat to Giantwood Village—to annihilate Narsen’s human party.

On the other hand, the relationship between the Bear-monsters and the Goblins was delicate. The bestial war-bear-monsters were deeply attached to their home; only Hobgoblins could enslave them and lead them away from the Giantwood Forest. If the Bear-monster Elder summoned its Great Bear-monsters and left Giantwood Village, the Hobgoblins would seize the opportunity to take control of a large number of war-bear-monsters. When the Elder and its Great Bear-monsters returned, they would find the tables turned. The Hobgoblins would no longer take orders and would have enslaved even those war-bear-monsters that originally had a chance to awaken their wisdom.

The Bear-monster Elder could only choose to strike out alone, leaving the Silver rank Great Bear-monsters to guard Giantwood Village and keep an eye on the Goblins, preventing them from stirring up trouble.

Beastmen who enslave Goblins for too long often end up being enslaved by them; it all depends on which side is stronger.

So, for Victor to apply military tactics from Earth to the Bear-monsters was to oversimplify the problem.

The problem now was that the Bear-monster Elder, upon approaching the camp of Randall’s Personal Guard and sensing the terrifying Legendary archer, immediately turned and fled toward Giantwood Village. If it were allowed to return safely, the only way for Dagger Barracks to eliminate this beastman force would be through a frontal assault.

The Bear-monster Elder and the Hobgoblins were both cunning; they would defend Giantwood Village to the last. The difficulty for the human army to attack it would be immense.

Victor could not let the Bear-monster Elder escape, but he had overlooked Caligula’s cowardice.

The Touch of the Mind was like a thread connecting the minds of Caligula and the Bear-monster Elder. If the distance between them grew too great, the connection would snap. It would then be difficult for Victor to find the Bear-monster Elder again.

When Caligula sensed the Bear-monster fleeing, he was too overjoyed to even think of alerting Victor. All his cunning was spent on hiding the truth and passively avoiding battle.

The plan had gone awry, and the primary responsibility lay with Victor. He didn’t blame Caligula, but he had to find a way to remedy the mistake.

“Aka, lead me to that monster! Don’t let it get away!”

Victor tossed his warbow to Caligula, grabbed his wrist with one hand, and a surging breeze wrapped around the big simpleton like a suit of armor.

“No time to explain! Caligula and I are going after the Bear-monster Elder! Follow and support me!”

Hauling the tall but timid Caligula, he raced off to the east, disappearing into the depths of the forest in an instant.

Chapter 634: Speaking Human Words

A breeze enveloped his body. With a single stride, he covered more than ten meters. There was no shriek of air in his ears, no stinging sensation of wind cutting his face. His speed had doubled. Caligula howled in excitement, his legs pumping as he sprinted with all his might, as if flying through the woods.

Victor truly was flying. With one hand clamped on Caligula’s shoulder, he was as light as a willow seed, his feet never touching the ground as the big simpleton carried him along in a forward glide.

The towering trees receded rapidly from view, and Victor, not running himself, had the strange illusion that space itself was falling away behind him. He listened to the sounds on the wind, and after X-3 sorted, filtered, and refined them, he gradually locked onto one of his target’s characteristics.

He was very close now.

At eight minutes and forty-three seconds, Victor spotted the Bear-monster Elder fleeing desperately through the trees.

Its body was burly, its limbs long and powerful. Its shoulder height was an estimated one-point-nine meters, making it even taller than Victor. Its dark red mane was a tangled, matted mass, like a suit of pliant fur armor clinging to its body. Under the moonlight, it had the dull sheen of thick bark.

The Bear-monster Shaman was using Barkskin to enhance its defense and Elemental Resistance, while also reducing air resistance to move more nimbly. The Alchemical militia had reported that the shaman’s Barkskin could easily withstand the piercing power of a heavy crossbow; it was a spell-like ability that served both offense and defense. But this giant bear was using Barkskin solely to aid its escape. It ran even faster than an Alchemical Warhound, and its massive paws left only shallow prints on the ground.

This was the Jungle Domain, a gift passed down to the Bear-monster Elder from the Ancient Behemoth Ulobis.

Victor had seen a Bear-monster of such a massive size display astounding agility and speed before—in Caligula. This Bear-monster Elder had not only ignited the fire of the mind, but also possessed a domain and spell-like abilities. Under normal circumstances, Caligula truly couldn’t outrun the four-legged Bear-monster Elder.

However, empowered by Wind Walk, the big simpleton was as light as a swallow. He could even shout as he chased the Bear-monster.

“Big bear, big bear, run, run! Aka is gonna catch the big bear and beat the big bear.”

Aka was very, very fierce, especially when his Master was hanging off him and the monster didn’t even dare to look back.

The big primordial being’s wild howls echoed through the forest, which continuously sent out warnings. Usoke was reminded of his childhood, when he was just a cub. Coveting sweet honey, he had swiped at a beehive in a bush, only to get his tongue stung viciously by wild bees. He had cried out in pain and scrambled desperately for the river.

The wild bees had been ferocious, but being chased and stung by them had only resulted in a swollen-headed bear. If the King of the Elves and the big primordial being behind him caught up, it would cost him his bear life.

Usoke had never expected things to turn out like this. Although the group of primordial beings that had infiltrated the Giantwood Forest was powerful, as a descendant of the King of the Jungle, he was supremely confident he could treat them as simple prey. But as he neared the human camp, he suddenly sensed a power he had never encountered before, yet was strangely familiar.

The ancient memories in his bloodline told Usoke that this was the Son of the Sun and Moon, the King of the Elves.

He had come to punish Ulobis for his crime against the Sun God, Frey. He had mingled with the humans, attacked the lair of the Giantwood Bear-monsters, and destroyed the totem of the King of the Jungle, all to hunt and kill a shaman from the ancient great bear’s bloodline.

What Usoke expected even less was that the big primordial being carrying the King of the Elves could also deceive the eyes and ears of the jungle. His Forest Intuition had told him the big primordial being was not a threat, yet the speed and power he displayed were staggering to the Bear-monster Elder.

An error in intuition was the most terrifying thing of all.

The Bear-monster Elder now classified the large human as a threat on the same level as the King of the Elves. He could barely handle one King of the Elves; adding a terrifyingly large human and a pack of primordial being pursuers…

Could a bear even catch a break?

The Son of the Sun God was no wild bee; hiding in a river would be useless. Usoke had to find another way to survive. With the ancestor god’s totem destroyed, the Bear-monster Elder had lost his telepathic link to the lair, but his kin in the lair had probably been slaughtered by the King of the Elves anyway. His only option now was to flee to Giantwood Village.

There were twenty thousand Goblins and nearly a thousand Bugbears there. No matter how powerful the King of the Elves was, he couldn’t possibly kill them all. Usoke only needed to run a little further to reach the edge of the Giantwood Forest. The Great Bear-monsters of Giantwood Village would lead their kin to aid him.

The most dangerous moment was now.

Though Usoke couldn’t understand the human tongue, he could sense the elation in the large human’s cries. He let out a low growl, and his charge suddenly burst with speed, actually pulling away from Caligula.

The Bear-monster Elder’s War Roar could temporarily boost his Spirit attribute.

Caligula ran with all his might, but could only watch as the Bear-monster’s rump grew smaller and smaller. Victor smoothly unslung his Eagle Wing Warbow. Tapping a toe on Caligula’s shoulder, he launched himself into the air. Mid-flight, he drew his bow and nocked an arrow, the Adamantine arrow flying swiftly toward the Bear-monster Elder, whose attributes were temporarily boosted.

Now without the empowerment of Wind Walk, it was as if Caligula’s courage had been drained away. He instantly fell silent. With a pivot of his ankle, he deftly dived behind a Dragon Claw Tree, unwilling to even peek his head out.

Victor’s eyes turned dark gold. The light wind enveloping the arrow first turned a deep teal, then an indigo streak of light that shot straight into the Bear-monster Elder’s back.

Sssshhhk.

The sharp Adamantine arrow struck the mane-woven armor, which was like old tree bark, and was deflected. The indigo light crawled like a spiderweb across the bear-monster’s back before erupting into a blast of teal air. Shredded fur flew everywhere.

The Bear-monster Elder grunted, blood seeping from its back. Its charge faltered for just a moment before it resumed its frantic dash forward as if nothing had happened.

Charged Shot was not only a piercing attack, but it also created wind resistance, producing a slowing and stopping effect.

Previously, Victor couldn’t move while using Charged Shot. But ever since he comprehended the Nemesis combat technique, which allowed him to control the wind from a distance and convert it into the void wind element, Charged Shot could finally be used like his light wind arrows—fired while on the move, becoming a standard combat technique against powerful enemies.

Because the time to accumulate the void element was too short, the power of this version of Charged Shot was limited. Its intensity was somewhat weaker than the elemental power a initial-rank wind-element Great Knight could muster, but it was still far stronger than a light wind arrow or a Gale Arrow.

Victor named this weaker version of Charged Shot: Storm Arrow.

The Bear-monster Elder, with its thick hide and defensive spell-like ability, possessed high Elemental Resistance—exactly the type of opponent Victor hated most. The effect of the Storm Arrow on it was… touching. It only shredded a patch of fur on its back and drew a little blood, not even qualifying as a light wound.

However, Victor had no intention of killing the Bear-monster Elder in one go. Narsen and Kalomon were leading their troops over. He just needed to keep weakening the Bear-monster Shaman with Storm Arrows to slow it down. Even if it only caused minor injuries and momentary pauses, it didn’t matter. Once the eight Alchemical Soldiers and sixteen Griffin Militia members caught up, the risk of surrounding and killing the Bear-monster Shaman would be greatly reduced.

Storm Arrow required a minimum flight distance of seven hundred meters to accumulate the void wind element. Victor trailed a little over eight hundred meters behind the Bear-monster, firing a Storm Arrow every few seconds. The Bear-monster’s mane-armor was in tatters, its back dripping with blood. It looked exceptionally miserable.

The pain in its back ignited the irrepressible ferocity in its bear-monster Nature. Usoke desperately wanted to turn and fight the King of the Elves, but the wisdom granted to the Bear-monsters by the King of the Jungle told it that would be suicide!

The King of the Elves wouldn’t engage a Bear-monster Shaman in close combat before he ran out of arrows… perhaps his human reinforcements would arrive before his quiver was empty. Perhaps the King of the Elves wouldn’t even need the humans’ help, and I’ll be shot dead before he runs out of arrows…

Every arrow the King of the Elves fired was imbued with a cutting wind. Nearly half the fur on Usoke’s back had been sheared off. At this rate, he would truly become a bald-backed bear.

A little baldness didn’t matter, and being a bit ugly was fine, but without the protection of its mane, Usoke would have to endure the Elven King’s sharp arrows with its bare flesh. Although the arrows weren’t overwhelmingly powerful—even without its mane’s protection, he couldn’t kill a Bear-monster Elder in one shot, just draw some blood—but if he kept shooting arrow after arrow, even a Bear-monster’s vast life force wouldn’t be enough.

In truth, every time the King of the Elves fired, Usoke was confident he could dodge in advance, but doing so would slow his escape. The King of the Elves was clearly counting on this. Fearing the humans catching up from behind, Usoke kept running in a straight line with his short tail tucked, taking the attacks squarely on his back and rump.

“This can’t go on! I should beg the King of the Elves for mercy…” the Bear-monster Elder thought to himself.

Victor saw the Bear-monster Elder gradually slow down, finally coming to a stop. The moisture in the forest air seemed to come alive, gathering around the Bear-monster in wisps of white mist. It coalesced on its body into a layer of green, watery light. The numerous small wounds from the Storm Arrows healed rapidly, and its pathetic, blood-soaked red mane grew back at a speed visible to the naked eye. In a moment, it was restored to its original state.

“He’s been forced to use the Bear-monster Shaman’s spell-like ability, Nature’s Cure…” Victor immediately flew backward another two hundred meters, drew his bow, and nocked an arrow. The teal airflow swirling around the Adamantine arrow deepened to indigo.

This time, it was a true Charged Shot. The upper limit of the condensed void wind element surpassed that of a Gold-rank Gale Knight.

In the jungle, a Bear-monster Shaman could use Nature’s Cure once every four hours. Each use lasted at least thirty seconds, not only healing wounds but also restoring it to peak condition. During this time, unless its head was severed, a Bear-monster Shaman could not be killed in one blow.

If a Bear-monster Shaman used Nature’s Cure, any opponent had to be wary, for it would launch a ferocious, death-defying assault.

Severe damage could shorten the duration of Nature’s Cure. Victor prepared to hit the desperate Bear-monster Elder with a heavy blow first.

The power of the Charged Shot was nearing its limit, tiny arcs of electricity flickering and dancing along the fletching. Just as Victor was about to release the bowstring, the Bear-monster Elder facing him suddenly spoke in human words.

“King of the Elves, Son of the Sun and Moon… Usoke, descendant of the Ancestor Bear Ulobis, begs for your mercy.”

Victor was startled. With a flick of his wrist, the fully charged arrow turned into an indigo streak, cutting through the chilling moonlight and sinking into the trunk of a Dragon Claw Tree that would take three men to encircle.

After a moment of silence, the trunk of the Dragon Claw Tree exploded. A gale swept through, and the massive treetop snapped in the middle, crashing heavily to the ground and kicking up a cloud of dust.

The Bear-monster Elder’s eyes were vacant, its furry bear face showing a human-like expression of lingering fear.

“Your name is Usoke? Can you understand me when I speak?”

In the deep gloom of the forest, Victor conversed with a giant bear whose mane was tensed. It had the distinct feeling of encountering a demon on a lonely night road. He drew a Saron Demon Iron arrow from his quiver and held it in his hand, but made no rash moves.

This was his most powerful weapon; it wouldn’t do to scare the monster off.

Usoke, still unaware that Victor had already classified him as a bear demon, recovered from the shock of seeing the King of the Elves shatter a Dragon Claw Tree with a single arrow. An irrepressible joy surged in his heart.

He had never seen the legendary King of the Elves from Bear-monster myths. Based on the ancient knowledge in his bloodline, he had intuitively assumed the enemy hunting him was the Son of the Sun and Moon, the king of the Elves.

However, this suspected King of the Elves was speaking the human tongue, not the elven one, and he had even asked if Usoke could understand him. This meant he had not yet awakened the ancient memories in his bloodline. He was not the true King of the Elves!

“He doesn’t know that the Ancestor Bear once betrayed the Sun God… I can trick him, get close to him, and then kill him!”

Usoke blinked his bear eyes and spoke in the Bear-monster tongue, “Respected King of the Elves, the Ancestor Bear granted me the ability to communicate with the creatures of the jungle. No matter what language you speak, I can understand it.”

Bloodline memory?

Comprehend Languages?

Victor was reminded of the Old Ogre that Nicole had slain. Master Edwin had ordered Knight Bruce to capture it alive because it was an Ogre that had awakened its bloodline memory and possessed partial knowledge of the ancient past.

Monsters capable of awakening bloodline memory also included Goblins, but their bloodline memory awakened in segments, and the knowledge was fragmented and practical, not involving the secrets of the Ancient Behemoths. This was possibly because Hobgoblins had shorter lifespans and died of old age before their bloodline memory could be fully restored.

Victor believed that the Goblins’ bloodline memory was an ability deliberately implanted by the ancient Goblins through artificial means, for the purpose of the Goblin civilization’s resurgence. This Bear-monster Shaman’s bloodline memory, on the other hand, contained ancient knowledge.

According to the theory of the Mind Bloodline secret art, a creature’s mind and bloodline were two sides of the same coin, both evolutions of an ancestral god’s will. When a creature grew powerful enough, it would approach the universal consciousness of a “god” and glimpse parts of ancient secrets.

The most obvious example was Father Miller. He was close to the Lord of Radiance and had mastered a great deal of mystical information. However, the amount of information from the Lord of Radiance was immense, and Miller had no interest in history. Furthermore, due to his need to bargain with the Devils over fate, he was extremely tight-lipped about what he saw. No one could pry any information out of him.

To put it simply, Miller focused only on the changes of the present and future, while the Bear-monster Elder understood partial information about the Ancient Behemoths.

Victor’s mismatched, dark gold eyes stared at the old bear. He chuckled softly and said, “You call me the King of the Elves? Since when was I aware that I’m the King of the Elves?”

The green glow of Nature’s Cure faded from its body. The Bear-monster Elder raised a forepaw, trying to take a step forward. Seeing Victor’s fingers strum the bowstring, it retracted its paw and stayed put, opening its mouth to say, “Your bloodline memory has not yet awakened, but you can understand the bear tongue… Elves and Bear-monsters both live in the jungle and have both received the blessing of Ulobis. I am not your enemy. Bear-monsters and Elves have always been partners.”

“And how can I believe a bear?” Victor asked, his gaze scrutinizing.

“Master, the big bear wants to hit you… like this!” Caligula suddenly popped his head out from behind a large tree. He squatted on the ground, mimicking the swiping motion of a bear’s paw. As his large hand sliced through the air, it produced a sound like rolling thunder.

He had been following not far behind Victor the whole time. Even though the big monster bear was terrifying, he still had to come out and warn his master to be careful of its paws.

“Aka is the most loyal…” the big simpleton thought proudly.

The big primordial being’s furtive movements and the terrifying power he had displayed made Usoke’s bear-heart tremble. He quickly said, “King of the Elves, Bear-monsters and Elves are partners, but the primordial beings want to kill Bear-monsters. You are traveling with a primordial being. Usoke is very nervous.”

Victor glanced back at Caligula and ordered, “Aka, go find Narsen and bring them here.”

Caligula nodded and scurried away in a flash.

“Master, you wait for me to bring the stupid bear over to fight the big bear!” Caligula’s loud, urgent voice echoed through the forest.

Victor shook his head with a smile. His gaze shifted to the Bear-monster Elder nine hundred meters away. “My servant has left. In a thousand breaths, he will bring my troops here. You have a little time now to convince me that Bear-monsters are partners to the Elves. Only then will I let you leave before they arrive.”

The Bear-monster Elder didn’t speak, merely staring at the Eagle Wing Bow in Victor’s hand. Its wild intuition told it that its opponent’s killing intent was chilling.

Victor laughed freely and tossed the Eagle Wing Bow to the ground. Holding a single Saron Demon Iron arrow, he nonchalantly walked fifty meters forward. His mismatched eyes turned completely dark gold, and a misty, rainbow-like golden light drifted upward from the corners of his eyes.

Activate X-3, enter Apocalypse state. Spirit attribute increased by thirty percent, killing intent concealed, time perception calculated at one-fortieth of a second. In five minutes, when vigor consumption reaches the safety threshold, use Boil once, kill the Bear-monster Elder!

Usoke could still feel the King of the Elves’s hostility, but he believed it was merely necessary caution. His goal was to dissolve that caution, get close to him, and then seize the opportunity to swat him flat with a single paw strike!

The Bear-monster rose up on its hind legs and dispelled its Barkskin. Its tight, tangled mane fluffed out, making it look even taller and more imposing, yet its perceived danger level plummeted drastically.

A chubby, furry bear often gives the impression of being lazy and simple-natured, making it more likable than a tiger or a lion. The only flaw was that this bear was a bit too large. Standing, it was a full three-point-four meters tall, its massive body exuding a powerful sense of pressure. However, its human-like expression was full of amiability and innocence, like that of a kind old man.

A bear that could express human emotions? It was like seeing a monster in the flesh.

Usoke naturally walked thirty meters forward and stopped. He scratched his bear head with a paw and asked, “King of the Elves, how can I convince you that Bear-monsters are partners to the Elves?”

“Tell me what you know, and I will make my own judgment… Start with the primordial beings.”

“What are primordial beings?”

Victor advanced slowly, clutching the unremarkable Saron Demon Iron arrow. A light breeze clung to his armor and the arrow in his hand. He had enough time to secretly infuse the void wind element into the Demon Iron arrow.

The Bear-monster took a few more steps forward, speaking as it walked. “Ah, the primordial beings… the first creatures created by the Creation Giant Ape Taelonriel. They evolved into all the intelligent races of this world.”

“Bear-monsters, Elves, Goblins, Gnolls, Ogres… all are variations of the primordial beings…”

“…And humans are now the only primordial beings.”

Chapter 635: Lurking Murderous Intent

“The Creation Giant Ape, Taelon Ruier.”

This was the first time Victor had heard the Creator’s name. From now on, he could abandon the term ‘other world’. This was the World of Taelon Ruier, or Taelon World for short.

He had always believed that human civilization had gone through several periods of decline. It was unknown if any human civilization had existed before the Alchemical Empire; the Alchemical Empire itself counted as an advanced human civilization; the City-states of the Chosen that followed were likely the successors to the Alchemical Empire’s Mages’ Association; and the current era was one of divine authority under the Lord of Radiance and the rule of the knight class.

Contemporary human civilization didn’t even know the Creator’s name. Among the common people, the Lord of Radiance had replaced Taelon Ruier, becoming the supreme creator god. The High-ranked Knight class, who could communicate with the Elemental Sea, did not accept this claim. They called the Elemental Sea the origin of the world, placing it above all things and all gods.

The high-ranking members of the Church might have known of Taelon Ruier’s name, as they had, after all, inherited the vast majority of the Chosen’s legacy. But for the sake of their faith, the first Pope had likely tampered with history, destroying all records and documents concerning the Creation Giant Ape, causing humanity to forget the truth.

The Bear-monster Elder’s words revealed a flood of information, sparking Victor’s thirst for knowledge.

He had once theorized that the Creator had split its will, becoming numerous primordial gods who were tasked with transforming the material world, propagating life, and manifesting the diverse laws of the world. Every intelligent species could trace its lineage back to its own Ancestral God, but humanity’s Ancestral God was a mystery.

Based on the diversity and compatibility of the human bloodline, as well as the fact that Knights could communicate with the Elemental Sea and Wizards could awaken the power of Laws, Victor had speculated that humanity’s Ancestral God was a fragmented incarnation of the Creator. This incarnation had been defeated by other primordial gods in the competition to reshape the world and had failed to grasp the authority to do so, but it had collected some of the world’s laws that the primordial gods had fed back to the Creator.

The Bear-monster Elder’s statement that the Creator Taelon Ruier had made the first primordial beings, and that humans were the only primordial beings left, overturned Victor’s hypothesis.

So, humans were the Creator’s favored children after all.

The Apocalypse state of X-3 allowed Victor to maintain absolute rationality. He simulated a curious and hopeful expression as he pressed on, “The Bear-monsters and the Elves both evolved from primordial beings? Then why do we look so different? Can humans still become Elves or Bear-monsters now?”

The Bear-monster Elder casually strolled forward, speaking slowly, “We inherited different ancestral bloodlines. The Bear-monsters are the blood-kin of the King of the Jungle, while the Elves are the descendants of the Moon Goddess. Of course we are different. If a human were to assimilate the blood of the King of the Jungle, they too would become a Bear-monster. Unfortunately, the ancient King of the Jungle has already fallen. His will exists deep within the souls of the Bear-monsters. It is no longer possible for a primordial being to become a Bear-monster, or any other intelligent species.”

Victor, cloaked in a faint breeze and clutching a Saron Demon Iron arrow, slowly advanced. The void wind element was gathering in the arrowhead. He continued to ask as he walked, “Then what was the initial change? Why do Ulobis, the Sun God, and the Moon Goddess exist? Did they also evolve from primordial beings?”

“That, I do not know.” The Bear-monster walked upright, its posture simple and honest, speaking like an elder. “The memories in my bloodline tell me that the ancient primordial beings were different in form from those of today. They were enormous in size and possessed boundless strength. The Ancestor Bear Ulobis was once an ancient primordial being. Mother Earth granted it the ability to cultivate the jungle. Wherever the Ancestor Bear Ulobis stepped, trees would grow, and the land would become a forest.”

“Beneath Taelon Ruier and above the ancient primordial beings, were there other great existences? For example, Mother Earth? What is her relationship with Taelon Ruier?” Victor paused, controlling his approach toward the Bear-monster Elder to allow his demon iron arrow to accumulate more elemental power.

The Bear-monster Elder also stopped. Its snout opened and closed as it said, “I cannot answer those questions. However, the Sun God and Mother Earth appeared in the world before the Ancestor Bear. The Sun God used a primordial being to create the Moon Goddess… One day, you will know these things more clearly than I do.”

“Do your memories contain Devils or evil gods? They still exist to this day. If the Ancestral Gods Ulobis and the Moon Goddess are both descendants of the Creation Giant Ape, then where did the Devils and evil gods originate?”

Victor suspected that the Devils and evil gods were a separate line of great existences, distinct from the Creator Taelon Ruier, and so he questioned the Bear-monster Elder.

“That… I do not know.”

Usoke saw Victor narrow his eyes. It rolled its yellowish-brown eyes and amended, “I don’t know what Devils are. You say that Devils still exist today. Are you certain that Devils have survived from ancient times?”

Victor didn’t know when the Devils had appeared or where they were now. He put on a thoughtful expression and shook his head.

The Bear-monster Elder once again moved closer to Victor’s position and said, “If Devils are ancient ancestral gods, then I am reminded of the Eternal War.”

“The Eternal War?”

“Yes.” Usoke nodded its huge bear head and continued, “The Ancestral Gods were also living beings. They had long lifespans, but they would eventually perish. The Ancestor Bear once encountered an injured Moon Goddess in the jungle. She was being hunted by two ancient giant wolves.”

“Ancient giant wolves were hunting Freya?” Victor asked, his expression one of surprise.

He had used the Moon Goddess’s name directly, without the respectful honorifics of the Elves. This made Usoke even more certain that its opponent was not a true King of the Elves, or at least, that his bloodline had not yet fully awakened.

That was enough!

The danger posed by the suspected King of the Elves was as real as death itself, stirring the ferocity deep within the Bear-monster’s bloodline. The power surging through its body filled Usoke with a craving for slaughter, but the Bear-monster’s wisdom kept its malice buried deep inside, letting it brew.

“The Lord of Gluttony and the King of Nightmares. Those two greedy beasts attempted to devour the Moon Goddess to seize her power, thereby breaking the shackles of life and achieving eternity.”

The Bear-monster Elder bared its snow-white fangs and said with hatred, “During the ancient times, the Ancestral Gods gave their blood to the primordial beings to bear offspring. In doing so, they divided their power, and their lifespans gradually neared their end. They then began to seize the power of other Ancestral Gods, sparking the Eternal War.”

“The great Ulobis helped the Moon Goddess, driving back the Lord of Gluttony and the King of Nightmares, and from then on incurred the hatred of the two ancient wolf brothers. They made the Ancestor Bear their hunting target, using despicable means to severely wound the valiant King of the Jungle, biting off his tail. In that moment of peril, the Moon Goddess arrived on the battlefield with the mighty Sun God. Together with the Ancestor Bear, they killed the King of Nightmares and drove away the Lord of Gluttony. The Ancestor Bear Ulobis and the Moon Goddess forged an alliance, and the Bear-monsters and the Elves have been partners ever since.”

Critical attack distance, T-minus two minutes and forty-four seconds. Contact in two minutes and fifty-five seconds. Correcting walking speed, adjusting direction… Eyes flowing with golden light concealed a cold, indifferent killing intent. Victor chuckled and said, “Why do I feel like it was the Moon Goddess who saved the Bear-monsters’ Ancestral God?”

“The Lord of Gluttony and the King of Nightmares—which intelligent species are they the bloodline ancestors of?” he asked, changing the subject.

“The King of Nightmares had not yet sired its own intelligent species before its fall. The primordial beings it cultivated were all wolves.” The bipedal giant bear’s expression turned to one of loathing and hatred as it continued, “The Lord of Gluttony escaped the King of the Jungle’s pursuit. The intelligent species it sired are the filthy, despicable, cowardly, and savage Gnolls.”

“So the blood feud between the Bear-monsters and the Gnolls was forged in ancient times,” Victor said with a look of realization.

He then asked, “In that case, do the Bear-monsters detest wolves?”

“Wolves have no wisdom. They are beasts of the jungle, not incarnations of the King of Nightmares. Bears do not detest wolves.” The Bear-monster Elder grinned and said, “The Lord of Gluttony had the form of a hyena, and the Gnolls it sired are just as ugly. If a primordial being of today were to accept the bloodline of the King of Nightmares, perhaps a race of werewolves would appear. Intelligent werewolves would certainly be our mortal enemies.”

“The Bear-monsters exile their feral kin because they lack wisdom and are not considered descendants of the King of the Jungle?”

“It is the tradition of the Bear-monsters. Feral Bear-monsters would cause the clan to disappear, turning all Bear-monsters into beasts without wisdom, losing the favor and glory of our ancestor. Outside of battle, the Bear-monsters are a peaceful race of the jungle… King of the Elves, you walk with humans, but humans are not partners of the Elves, nor are they enemies of the Bear-monsters. We can coexist peacefully,” the Bear-monster Elder said.

“What do you propose?” Victor asked, controlling his pace as he walked.

“Humans must eventually exterminate the Goblins, and the Bear-monsters must awaken their wild wisdom through battle. My clansmen and I will not participate in the fighting. You and the human experts will also stand by and do nothing, letting the human army fight the Goblins and the war-bear-monsters. Any Bear-monster that awakens its wisdom in battle will leave the battlefield and return to the jungle. Humans are not to intercept them. As for the fate of those feral Bear-monsters, that will be left for the Ancestor Bear to decide.”

“That can be considered. I have another question. What is the relationship between the Bear-monsters and the Goblins?”

“The Goblins carry the bloodline of the Ancestor Bear, but they are not our kin. We can communicate with Goblins, but we also dislike them. They stink, and they birth litter after litter of goblin cubs.”

“Who is the ancestor of the Goblins?”

“You should ask a Goblin, not a… Bear,” Usoke said mockingly.

At this moment, the two were less than fifty meters apart. The murderous intent was so thick it was almost tangible. The surroundings fell into a dead, frozen silence, with only the leaves of the Dragon Claw Trees rustling, as if trembling in fear, or perhaps cheering in excitement.

Cheering for the Bear-monster of the jungle.

Blood roared through the Bear-monster’s veins like a surging river. The black Saron Demon Iron arrow spun between Victor’s fingers, like a shackled wind from a dark abyss.

“One last question. The Sun God Frey, the Moon Goddess Freya, the King of the Jungle Ulobis—are they still around?” Victor asked with an elegant smile.

“For matters concerning the Sun God and the Moon Goddess, you should ask yourself. As for the King of the Jungle Ulobis… come a little closer, and I will tell you.” The Bear-monster Elder stood its ground, its gaze deep and hiding a savage wildness.

“Alright, I’m coming.”

Victor nodded, gripped the floating Magic Arrow, and stepped forward. His left foot landed heavily on the ground, creating a spiderweb of cracks, while his right foot was light and silent, not disturbing a speck of dust. His steps were one heavy and one light, yet coordinated and fluid as he walked toward the 3.4-meter-tall giant bear.

“The King of the Jungle has not fallen. He has always been here.”

The giant Bear-monster Elder, Usoke, looked down at the tiny King of the Elves standing before it and said with a mocking expression:

“I… am… Ulobis!”

All traces of a human-like expression vanished. Ferocious power stirred the air. A true giant bear appeared before Victor, opening its bloody maw, about to let out a feral howl.

To kill the unawakened King of the Elves, it had undone its Barkskin and used up its Nature’s Cure, but it still had Ulobis’s most powerful talent—Wild Roar.

The Ancestor Bear’s Roar awakened the will of the jungle, gathering the power of nature into its body and repelling the soul of its enemy. Even a moment of shock would be enough for Usoke to swat its opponent to death.

However, a biting wind blew into the wide-open bear mouth,灌进 Usoke’s lungs, only to be immediately forced out by burgeoning power. It spat outward with a soul-shaking shockwave, creating ripples in the air visible to the naked eye.

Victor could hear nothing. His mind felt as if it had been struck by a heavy blow. A giant bear paw came at him, filling his entire vision.

Boom!

The air blast shot out from under the bear paw in all directions, blowing away dust and fallen leaves in a twenty-meter radius. Yet Usoke’s unstoppable palm strike did not land on the ground.

The King of the Elves, who should have been smashed into a meat paste, had vanished!

The Bear-monster instinctively lunged forward, but its spine was immediately struck by a heavy blow. It felt as if a mountain was pressing down on its back, and its massive body was instantly slammed to the ground.

Its heart contracted and expanded violently. The Bear-monster Elder’s solid body withstood the stomp of the King of the Elves. Just as it was about to charge forward again, an ice-cold, piercing sensation passed through its hide and straight into its heart and lungs.

Too late… and too fast.

Usoke glanced back to see Victor, empty-handed, his black hair turned golden, his eyes as indifferent as a god’s.

It staggered two steps forward, and its dark red mane suddenly shot up straight. A fierce wind carrying blood sprayed out from its pores. Its massive, sturdy body seemed to deflate, and in the next second, it was sliced into a pile of minced meat by the wind element from within.

Under the moonlight, in the forest, the spattered flesh and blood across the ground was like blooming crimson flowers, creating a strange and brutal beauty.

Victor, his hair and eyes returned to their normal black and mismatched colors, stepped through the pool of blood and stared at the only intact bear head, muttering to himself:

“The performance was clumsy, the power immense, and the story fascinating. A pity you are no partner to the Elves, and I am no elf.”

“You are a monster. I am a human.”

“…And defense is very important.”

Victor wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. The Bear-monster Elder’s Wild Roar just now had acted on both his mind and body, feeding back into each other and causing dual damage. Fortunately, Boil was a full-attribute boost to Physique, Spirit, Perception, and Life. He had withstood the Bear-monster’s roar, sustaining only a minor injury. On the other hand, the Bear-monster Elder, having canceled its Barkskin and used up its Nature’s Cure, could not withstand the elemental infusion of the Saron Demon Iron arrow.

The black arrow lay quietly in the pool of blood. Victor picked up the Saron Demon Iron arrow that had taken the Bear-monster’s life and looked up at the giant Dragon Claw Tree with its drooping leaves, a joyful smile gracing his lips.

“From now on, the nuts of the Dragon Claw Tree will become a commodity for The Golden Company.”

Victor picked up the bear’s head with one hand, leaped out of the pool of blood, and walked in the direction Narsen was approaching from.

Suddenly, something strange happened.

The shadow under his feet rippled like water, and his Dragon-Lizard hide war boots felt as if they had stepped into sludge. A sinister cold, weariness, confusion, and weakness spread through his body. Having just come out of his Mind in Ferment state, Victor was unavoidably affected by the negative effects, and his steps became sluggish and heavy for an instant.

Three smoke-like black shadows flickered above Victor’s head, merging into one to become a warrior clad in armor made of shadow. Wielding a dim, lightless sword with both hands, he stabbed straight down at Victor’s head.

The intense killing intent brought with it the despair of death, nearly freezing Victor’s soul solid.

Chapter 636: Counterattack

Several kilometers away, the Bear-monster Elder’s wild roar echoed through the forest, reaching the ears of Narsen and the others. Everyone, except for the Alchemical Soldiers, turned pale. Charlotte, frantic with worry, cast aside her concealment of her senior knight’s strength. Circulating her Aura, she was about to charge toward the battlefield to support her man, but Narsen, wielding two Adamantine beheading swords, had already shot out from the group.

“Master has won.”

Caligula’s cheerful voice made Narsen, who had already run two hundred meters, stop and turn back. He saw the big simpleton waving his arms and legs, saying:

“The big bear is dead… Master killed the stupid bear.”

Everyone exchanged bewildered glances, finding it hard to believe that the Gold-rank monster, who had been roaring fiercely just moments ago, had been killed by His Highness Randell so quickly.

Narsen, understanding Caligula’s power of the mind, held his beheading swords point-down, scratched his forehead, and walked back with the eight Alchemical Soldiers, saying casually, “It’s nothing. My lord, he…”

Before he could finish, Caligula’s expression twisted, and he roared, “You bastard! Don’t you dare touch my Master!”

His roar was like thunder. The towering, giant-like Caligula shot southward like an arrow loosed from a bow, kicking up a fierce gust of wind.

“Let’s go!”

Two jets of white air streamed from Narsen’s nostrils. He directly activated his Vibration Secret Art, stimulating his inner potential to unleash a burst of power, and chased after Caligula’s retreating figure.

The one who ambushed Victor was the Shadow Knight of The Shadow Council.

The Shadow Priests had hoped to gain the support of the Gold-Eyed Earl and the Queen of Roses, so the Keeper of Secrets, the Council President, had dispatched the Shadow Knight to make secret contact with His Highness Randell. But as the second legendary powerhouse of The Shadow Council, the Shadow Knight had his own ideas and unspeakable schemes.

In his plan, the Gold-Eyed Earl had to die.

The Shadow Bishop had an agreement with the Baselius family, hoping to use their channels to connect with the Gold-Eyed Earl. However, the two Highnesses of Baselius were unwilling to get too involved and merely passed the Gold-Eyed Earl’s general location to an informant of the Shadow Priests.

The Shadow Knight received the intelligence, infiltrated the Giantwood Forest ahead of time, and witnessed the entire confrontation between the Gold-Eyed Earl and the Bear-monster Elder.

The Shadow Council, a parasite within the Church’s body, was able to learn many unknown secrets. The Shadow Knight had heard that the Bear-monster Elder’s power was greatly enhanced in the jungle and that it had even awakened ancient knowledge. But what one hears and what one sees with their own eyes often bring vastly different impressions; the Bear-monster Elder’s strength exceeded his expectations.

And yet, the powerful Bear-monster Elder died at the hands of the Gold-Eyed Earl.

Duels between legendary powerhouses are exceedingly rare, perhaps not even occurring once in several centuries. Regardless of race, every legendary figure has a large group of vassals. If two legendary individuals were to encounter each other alone, they would almost always avoid a confrontation. Only when there is no retreat would they fight with all their might, but even then, it would rarely be a one-on-one duel. It was just like when the Radiant Knights hunted down the legendary Centaur; that war lasted over a decade, and in the end, the great Centaur Orogar was still slain in a battle involving tens of thousands of combatants.

An ordinary person witnessing the battle between the Gold-Eyed Earl and the Bear-monster would only see a man dodge the giant bear’s paw strike, jump onto its back to stomp on it hard, then stab an arrow into the bear’s rear, after which the giant bear died.

The Shadow Knight, however, could perceive the secrets within.

A ferocious beast, upon sensing danger, would first choose to flee. But the Bear-monster Elder, possessing both wildness and wisdom, used the pressure from the Gold-Eyed Earl to stimulate the feral power in its bloodline, pushing its strength to its absolute peak. Yet, every step the Gold-Eyed Earl took was precisely calculated. He maintained firm control of the situation, grasping the timing and spacing of the engagement, and allowed the Bear-monster Elder to mistakenly believe its tactic of verbal taunts had worked. When it launched the first attack, unleashing its terrifying Wild Roar, the Gold-Eyed Earl struck a step ahead. A fierce wind poured into the Bear-monster’s mouth, causing a momentary delay. In that blink of an eye, he revealed his gold-haired, gold-eyed combat form. His spiritual power reached the pinnacle of the legendary realm, allowing him to withstand the bear’s Wild Roar and instantly kill it in a counter-attack.

Judging solely from the Gold-Eyed Earl’s gold-haired, gold-eyed form, he had already touched the edge of the Saint realm.

However, level of power and level of life were never the sole factors in determining victory or defeat. The Gold-Eyed Earl won because he understood the Bear-monster Elder’s abilities and secretly controlled its mentality, while the Bear-monster Elder knew far too little about its enemy.

Aside from the Queen of Roses, Sylvia, the Shadow Knight was confident he was second to no legendary powerhouse alive today. The reason he dared to assassinate the Gold-Eyed Earl was that he believed he understood his opponent, while the Gold-Eyed Earl knew nothing of the Shadow Knight.

Fortunately, the Bear-monster Elder had served as a touchstone, allowing him to see the Gold-Eyed Earl’s true strength. Otherwise, the outcome of the assassination would have been hard to predict.

Now, the tables had turned. The Shadow Knight saw through his methods and his weakness. The Gold-Eyed Earl had become unknowing prey.

Victor W. Randell’s gold-haired, gold-eyed form was certainly powerful, and he could use the power of the void element, but he couldn’t maintain a connection with the Elemental Sea like a Pinnacle Knight, who remained at peak state as long as their Aura wasn’t depleted. In the end, like the Bear-monster Elder, the Sun Elf bloodline’s extraordinary skills and special states all had cooldown times. He had already played his trump card; the intensity of his spirit and the concentration of water element in his body were both at a low point, requiring time to recover.

The Shadow Knight attacked with his full strength. Shadow Mire, Shadow Shuttle, and Shadow Blade—a combination of three Shadow Divine Arts—assaulted Victor’s soul and body simultaneously.

The weakened and injured Gold-Eyed Earl would surely die!

A roar, filled with anxiety and fury, rolled in from the other side of the woods. It carried an intimidating weight that could not be ignored, entering the Shadow Knight’s mind through his sense of hearing.

If you dare kill him, I’ll kill you!

Sound itself could inflict harm upon a living being, and the spiritual will attached to it by its master could injure the target’s soul, manifesting as a powerful deterrent that could make an enemy hesitate, cower, retreat, or even die on the spot. The Bear-monster Elder’s Wild Roar was the best example, but the force of this roar was far inferior to the Bear-monster’s.

Caligula, the Miracle of Redemption, the Gold-Eyed Earl’s follower. Simple-minded, timid as a mouse, but rumored to have mastered the Touch of the Mind.

The Shadow Knight had a deep understanding of the Touch of the Mind. Caligula cared for the Gold-Eyed Earl’s safety, and anyone who threatened his master would trigger Caligula’s power of the mind, which would then follow the aggressor’s killing intent to touch their own mind.

Unfortunately, in the human kingdoms, only the Queen of Roses could currently use pure spiritual power to directly kill an enemy. The two Legendary Sacred Warriors of the Church who had mastered the Touch of the Mind, Tournans and his tutor, couldn’t do it, let alone the cowardly and timid Caligula.

The Shadow Knight’s will was like a hard, brilliant blue diamond. When Caligula’s power of the mind struck it, it failed to stir even the smallest ripple. The longsword, imbued with the power of shadow, plunged toward the Gold-Eyed Earl.

Damn it!

Caligula’s power of the mind had still been effective. It caused a thought to surface in the Shadow Knight’s mind, making him lose focus. The Shadow Blade was unaffected, but a slight gap appeared in the combination of Shadow Mire and Shadow Blade.

The Shadow Knight immediately canceled his control over the Shadow Mire and focused everything on fueling the Shadow Blade. The darkness on the sword’s edge became almost tangible, transforming into a sharp black shadow that struck the Gold-Eyed Earl, turning him completely into nothingness.

That wasn’t the effect of a Shadow Strike!

The Shadow Knight didn’t hesitate for a moment. Inverted wings of black shadow sprouted from his back, and he shot off in a chosen direction.

“Leaving so soon? Not staying for a chat?”

Seven hundred meters away, atop a Dragon Claw Tree, stood Victor, hair and eyes of gold, a halo of platinum-gold runes circling behind him. Standing on the treetop, his eyes, gleaming with golden light, stared at the assassin who was shrouded in shadow, his features obscured.

“Gold-Eyed Earl, this is a greeting from the Shadow Council President!”

The Shadow Knight, now with illusory wings, covered nearly a hundred meters in a single bound. His voice was faint and even, certain that the Gold-Eyed Earl could hear him.

Sometimes, words were sharper and more effective than swords. If Victor hesitated for even a moment, wondering if he could extract the identity of the mastermind from the assassin’s mouth, the Shadow Knight would have a much greater chance of escaping before his men could surround him.

Victor’s golden eyes were ice-cold and ruthless. He pointed a finger, and the Saron Demon Iron arrow hovering in the air transformed into a thin, dark shadow, silently shooting toward the assassin’s back.

The distance of more than a thousand meters was covered in an instant. The assassin surprisingly made no move to dodge. The Tracking Arrow, like a living demonic serpent, sank into his back.

Indigo void wind element and a cyan-black airflow erupted simultaneously. Amidst a howling gale, the Shadow Knight transformed into three smoke-like black shadows, instantly teleporting two hundred meters away. He reformed in a clearing and, without a single look back, vanished into the depths of the forest.

He was not unscathed. The shadow wings on his back had dissipated, and his left arm was missing from the elbow down.

The Gold-Eyed Earl’s attack had been close to the Saint realm level. The Shadow Knight had used Shadow Shuttle to transfer the damage, escaping the scene at the cost of an arm.

Victor was unable to determine the enemy’s origin or numbers. Without understanding the situation, he would never be reckless enough to give chase alone.

Gently stroking the divine art crystal ring on his left middle finger, Victor’s mind raced, contemplating several questions at once.

…This assassin possesses extraordinary stealth abilities, capable of evading both my Perception and the Bear-monster Elder’s. He held back while I fought the Bear-monster. He waited until I had killed the bear and was at my most relaxed before launching his surprise attack.

This is a legendary powerhouse!

A true legendary figure doesn’t just have legendary-level power, but also legendary-level awareness. Imosen possessed legendary-level Wizardry, but his perspective, will, and wisdom weren’t even at the Copper rank.

When I fought the Bear-monster, both of our will, spirit, and power were at their peak. If the assassin had chosen to attack me then, he would have immediately faced a combined counter-attack from two legendary figures. Only a true legendary could grasp such a subtlety; an ordinary person would never have such insight.

…His extraordinary abilities are bizarre and unpredictable, with a hint of Wizardry, but the amulet Miller gave me didn’t react. Moreover, his abilities are complementary and form a system.

A Wizard’s Wizardry has no system, so he is not a Wizard!

…His spiritual power and combat ability all display the perfectly balanced fire of the mind of a Knight. Especially when I used Void Walk, a technique that turns both body and soul into wind element, only the elemental perception of a High-ranked Knight could have determined my teleportation location. The direction he chose to flee was directly away from me, which proves he knew where I was.

However, Knights communicate with void elements; it’s impossible for them to have a talent for Wizardry. If a Knight could cast spells, they would be an Alchemist.

Not a Knight. In fact, he’s somewhat like a Paladin, but a Paladin’s Holy Light is platinum-gold, while his entire body was shrouded in black shadows.

Not a Wizard, not a Knight, not a Paladin, yet he possesses an extraordinary system of power. This means he has an organization with a unique legacy behind him… A greeting from the Shadow Council President? If there’s a Shadow Council President, there’s a Shadow Council. Is he a legendary from The Shadow Council? But why would he expose the name of The Shadow Council? Could it be that he has a grudge against them and is deliberately misleading me?

The Shadow Council?

The Council of the Chosen Mage Council?

The ancient Alchemical Empire’s Mages’ Association?

Wait, the knight’s bloodline connects to the will of the world’s origin. Their souls originally had no innate spell model. It was the ancient Archmages who turned Knights into Alchemists. The Council of the Chosen once helped the Radiant Church perfect its Divine Art Models, including the Paladin’s divine arts system… If The Shadow Council shares a lineage with the Council of the Chosen and the ancient Mages’ Association, perhaps it could cultivate spell-casting Knights… There are only three legendary Knights today. Nachtigal is a Paladin, so he can be ruled out. Neo Wester is currently at Giantstone Fortress, so that’s also impossible. The Gold Knights of the kingdoms are all prominent figures whose every move is watched. The likelihood of them evading the Church’s surveillance to come assassinate me is also minuscule. Could it be some unknown Gold Knight from the Eastern Alliance?

“Master, Aka is here, Aka is here! The stupid bears are here too!”

Caligula’s towering figure appeared a short distance behind him. Victor reined in his thoughts, a warm current flooding his heart.

The old man Miller had blessed his divine arts ring with Sacred Protection four times. At the critical moment, it had refilled his vigor and boosted all four major elemental attributes, which was what allowed him to use Void Walk to evade the mysterious assassin’s killing blow. However, without Caligula’s power of the mind awakening him from his stupor, he wouldn’t even have had the thought to activate the ring.

The big simpleton had been urgently calling out in the depths of his mind, his voice filled with sincere concern. Touched, Victor slid down the straight tree trunk and landed on the ground, raising his hand with a smile.

Caligula bent his knees into a half-squat, making it easier for Victor to clap him firmly on the shoulder. A傻憨 a foolish, honest smile spread across his face. “Master, you’re all right. Huh…” He then said excitedly, “Master, your hair, your hair changed color! It’s like the gold My Lady Lilia had Aka move into the small room.”

Narsen and the others arrived one by one. Seeing the gold-haired, gold-eyed Victor, they all bowed their heads deeply, unable to look directly at his face.

“I have killed the Bear-monster Elder. You need not ask any more questions,” Victor said with authority.

“As you wish, Your esteemed Majesty Randell,” the group said in unison, bowing respectfully.

“Not Majesty yet,” Victor said with a slight smile, deactivating his Boil state. His hair, as dazzling as the sun, gradually returned to black.

Charlotte let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She walked forward, took Victor’s hand, and said with concern, “My… Your Highness, Aka said you were just in danger… I was so worried about you.”

“The Bear-monster played dead and nearly took my life… I’ve already paid it back,” Victor said with a loud laugh.

The Bear-monster Elder’s flesh and blood had splattered in a huge circle, leaving only its head intact. The grizzly scene was shocking to behold, a testament to the Gold-Eyed Earl’s unrivaled power.

Caligula scratched the back of his head, a look of complete bewilderment on his face.

Was it the big bear? If Master says it was the big bear, then it was the big bear. The big bear only has a head left. Let’s see you try to scare Aka now… The big simpleton trotted over and brought the bear’s head back.

“Master, for you.”

“Priest Kalomon.” Victor gestured with his chin at the battle priest and said, “The Bear-monster Elder is dead. Send someone to take its head to the Dagger Barracks and give it to His Highness Baselius.”

Kalomon took the massive Bear-monster head and asked in surprise, “Your Highness, aren’t we going to the Dagger Barracks to rest?”

Victor’s speculations about the mysterious assassin’s identity and origin were all without solid evidence. The Shadow Council might be a Wizard organization from the Eastern Alliance with some potential connection to the Alchemical Empire. Therefore, Victor did not intend to publicize the fact that he had been assassinated. He had already begun to infiltrate the Eastern Alliance and would dig them out sooner or later. But there was one question Victor had to treat with caution.

How did the mysterious assassin know his whereabouts?

Victor’s first suspect was Duke Baselius. His display of his Saint-like form in front of everyone had been a test.

“Time is short. The Gnolls to the south are still waiting for me to deal with them. We leave tonight and head to Eaglenest Mountain to rest.”

Chapter 637: Insidious Methods

In the Nobles’ District of the Sasan Imperial Capital stood Wolfhold.

Two tall, powerful Perlan pureblood draft horses drew a red copper carriage along a road within the imperial palace. The wheels rumbled steadily over the flagstones, and before long, the carriage came to a halt before a palace.

Crown Prince Frederick jumped down from the carriage without waiting for an attendant to fetch a stool and strode into the palace with his knightly guard.

He crossed the magnificent great hall, entered a tower through a rear corridor, and ascended the spiral staircase to the top floor. Waving away his attendants and guards, he approached a room and raised his hand to knock on the exquisitely carved, gold-trimmed door.

The door opened from within. A court noblewoman in a long blue dress curtsied and said, “Your Highness Frederick, the Empress awaits you on the balcony.”

Siegfried nodded and followed the lady to an open-air balcony. He bowed respectfully to a woman with a graceful figure whose back was turned to him. “Mother, good day. I have returned.”

“Zieg, Patriarch Flidis summoned you. What did you speak of that has left your steps so light and your mood so cheerful?” the woman asked with a smile, turning around to lean against the glazed stone balustrade.

Her features were delicate and beautiful, with a full forehead, a fine, straight nose, and eyes as pure as azure. Her red hair cascaded over her fair-skinned shoulders, adding a perfect touch of vibrancy. A flawless white spider silk long dress outlined her enchanting feminine curves. Sacred beauty and mature gentleness blended into an air of graceful and wise nobility.

This was Grace Klocher Frederick, a noblewoman from the Paladin family of Klocher, the current Empress of the Sasan Empire, wife of Emperor Friedrich, and Siegfried’s birth mother. She was also the one who truly held power in the Sasan Empire.

“The Patriarch summoned me to report on the Gold-Eyed Earl’s deeds… It sounds as though His Highness Randall has had a falling out with the Baselius family,” Siegfried said, his tone light and tinged with a hint of schadenfreude.

“Oh? Sit down and tell me all about it,” the Empress said, raising her slender, willow-like brows. She walked over to the round table on the balcony and sat, her interest piqued.

Zieg pulled out a chair and sat opposite the Empress. “Twenty-three days ago, the Gold-Eyed Earl led a team into the Giantwood Forest. That very night, he killed the Bear-monster Elder that was tailing them. Afterward, the Gold-Eyed Earl did not return to the Dagger Barracks to rest. He only had the accompanying Sacred Warrior take the Bear-monster chieftain’s head back to Duke Baselius. He claimed that time was short, that he was in a hurry to head south to hunt and kill the Gnoll chieftain, and that he had no time for pleasantries. They left the Giantwood Forest overnight, arrived at Eaglenest Mountain the next morning, rested there for a day, and then rushed to the Little Calf Village barracks to meet with the High-ranked Knights from the main Gambis reinforcements.”

Grace lifted a cup from the round table and took a sip of the warm, fragrant coffee. “His Highness Randall is broad-minded and has an extraordinary magnanimity that is truly admirable,” she said languidly. After a pause, she turned her beautiful eyes to her beloved son and said with a smile, “You were quite annoyed when you first heard this news. Why are you so happy now?”

With the Bear-monster Elder suddenly slain, the beastmen army at Giantwood Village had been thrown into disarray. The two Highnesses of the Baselius family took action personally, storming Giantwood Village with the Bear-monster Elder’s head. The Goblins and Bear-monsters immediately crumbled, and the human army won an easy victory, reclaiming Giantwood Village with minimal casualties.

The tale of the Gold-Eyed Earl slaying a Gold-rank Bear-monster Elder circulated only among the circles of High-ranked Knights and high-ranking clergy. In contrast, Duke Baselius leading the army to sweep through the beastmen entrenched in Giantwood Village was witnessed firsthand by soldiers, militia, able-bodied hired laborers, and low-ranking knights and clergy.

The battle for Giantwood Village had greatly boosted the Baselius family’s prestige. As the first heir of the Frederick family, Siegfried was certainly not happy about this.

His Highness Randall should have been the main character. If he had participated in the battle for Giantwood Village, Baselius would not have had a chance to steal the show. His Highness from the Gambis Kingdom had no direct conflict of interest with the Friedrich Imperial Family, so the Gold-Eyed Earl gaining renown was far better than letting Baselius benefit. Yet, His Highness Randall had quietly left the Giantwood Forest, allowing Baselius to claim the glory.

Siegfried had interpreted this as a sign of a close relationship between His Highness Randall and Baselius.

Truthfully, it wasn’t so strange. Baselius was, after all, of the Gold Bloodline and was related to His Highness Randall. It was only normal for two great secular lords to be on good terms.

However, after Baselius took Giantwood Village, he turned around and gifted the lordship of the village to a great lord from the central part of the empire, the Tartus family.

The Family Guardian of the Tartus family was a Gold Knight of the Sasan Empire. A decade or so ago, the second son of a vassal baron of the Tartus family had taken a Vigor Potion, advanced to an initial-rank Bronze Knight, and participated in a Sasan military campaign to raid the north of Dodor. On the Warton Great Plains, he encountered a freemen mercenary company and was slain on the spot by its leader.

Because he had used a flashy Leaping Slash and was killed by an opponent weaker than himself, the great families used him as a cautionary tale to educate newly advanced knights. For a time, the Tartus family became a laughingstock in the noble circles of the kingdoms. Mortified, they put up a bounty for the head of the mercenary leader.

That mercenary was none other than the Gold-Eyed Earl’s number one confidant—Narsen, the Bear of the Northlands.

Today, the Bear of the Northlands was famous. He had taken the First Sacred Warrior Tournans as his tutor and was one of the top Ferocious warriors of the Centaur Hills. He had once launched a surprise attack within the Dodor Kingdom and killed the Golden Dawn Sparrow Earl, yet the Dodor Royal Family and Duke Ludwig had done nothing in response. The noble circles of the kingdoms never discussed this matter openly, a testament to the overwhelming power and influence of the Queen of Roses and the Gold-Eyed Earl in this era.

The Tartus family, of course, no longer dared to mention the old bounty on the Bear of the Northlands, but the animosity between them would not simply vanish.

Given Narsen’s current status and background, if the Tartus family wanted to resolve this matter, their Family Guardian would have to personally apologize. Even though he had not ordered the bounty on Narsen and perhaps knew nothing of such a trivial matter, the connection between a Gold Knight and his family was inseparable, and a Highness could not afford to lose his dignity.

While the High-ranked Knights of other families were meeting and currying favor with His Highness Randall, the Tartus family could only quietly avoid him. Only they knew the true extent of their awkwardness and embarrassment.

By gifting the lordship of Giantwood Village to the Tartus family, Duke Baselius was giving them a way out of their predicament. With this gesture, the Tartus Guardian could now step forward to thank His Highness Randall for the great favor of slaying the Bear-monster Elder, present gifts to every member of Randall’s personal guard, and casually mock his family’s past embarrassment as a joke, all without losing the dignity of a Gold Knight.

If that was all there was to it, it would not have been a big deal. The crux of the matter was that Little Calf Village had once been a Pioneer Fief of the Tartus family, and it was now Siegfried’s personal domain. By giving the lordship of Giantwood Village to the Tartus family, Duke Baselius, by comparison, displayed the magnanimity of a true sovereign.

Was Giantwood Village conquered by the Baselius family alone? If a rich Mithril mine were discovered beneath Giantwood Village, would Baselius have so readily handed it over to Tartus?

One didn’t need to be a genius to know that was impossible!

Duke Baselius’s magnanimity made Siegfried grit his teeth in hatred, yet he was helpless. In any case, he would not, could not, and dared not give up Little Calf Village.

Today, the Crown Prince had gone to see Patriarch Flidis, and upon his return, the gloom on his face was gone, replaced by a vibrant spirit. Grace had seen the change in her son, and while she was pleased, her curiosity was also piqued.

“Mother, six days ago, in the southern mountain forests of the eastern defensive line, His Highness Randall easily dispatched the Gold-rank Gnoll lord,” Zieg said with a broad smile. “The King of Dodor and the two Highnesses of the Iron Wall Knights held a celebratory banquet for him at the Liedenburg fortress. His Highness Randall gladly attended, and Priest Kalomon was also present. It is said that His Highness Randall and the King of Dodor had a pleasant exchange, filled with laughter. They reached an agreement for the purchase of Swiftbirds for one million two hundred thousand Gold Sols, and His Majesty Friedrich even gifted His Highness Randall a rare silver Leonine unicorn as a mount. After the banquet, Randall’s personal guard rested for a day in Liedenburg before setting out again, heading deep into the East Pioneer Fief to eliminate the entrenched beastmen leaders.”

The Sasan Empress smiled without a word, her slender, fair fingers pinching a silver spoon and gently stirring her coffee as she waited for him to continue.

“This contrast clearly shows that the relationship between His Highness Randall and Baselius is cold,” Siegfried slammed his fist down, unable to contain his excitement. “I’ve already thought it through on my way back. Duke Baselius giving the lordship of Giantwood Village to Tartus was, on one hand, a move to win favor and rally the central lords. On the other hand, he was deliberately creating a false impression that he is close to His Highness Randall and could mediate to resolve the friction between the Tartus and Randell families.”

“Haha, the Gold-Eyed Earl didn’t rest at the Dagger Barracks, and Baselius grew anxious.”

Grace asked with a faint smile, “Is that all?”

“Of course not.”

Siegfried lowered his voice, his eyes burning with intensity as he said, “Patriarch Flidis revealed more details to me…”

“When His Highness Randall slew the Bear-monster Elder in the Giantwood Forest, Priest Kalomon and the accompanying clergy all witnessed his form with golden hair and golden eyes!”

The stirring silver spoon stopped. Grace could no longer maintain her graceful composure. She placed the coffee cup on the round table, took a deep breath, and her eyes grew profound. “Zieg, be specific,” she said in a commanding tone.

“Yes.” Crown Prince Siegfried nodded and relayed the details Patriarch Flidis had told him to the Empress. At the end, he added, “From Patriarch Flidis’s reaction, the two Highnesses of Baselius must have already learned of the Gold-Eyed Earl’s display in the Giantwood Forest. His Highness Randall’s refusal to meet them has made the two lord Dukes anxious.”

In the human kingdoms, both Gold Knights and Legendary Knights were addressed as “Your Highness,” as “Your Majesty” was an honorific reserved for a King, Pontiff, or Pope. Even someone as noble as the Queen of Roses was only called “Your Highness” by all; only when she truly ascended the throne could she be called “Your Majesty.” However, with the precedent of Sword Saint Draven, and considering the Sun Elves could be seen as the royalty of the Elves, addressing Earl Randell as “His Majesty” when he transformed into his golden-haired, golden-eyed form was proper etiquette.

Unlike Sword Saint Draven, Earl Randell was a figure of real power in the Gambis Kingdom. Now that he had transformed into a Sun Elf, he would henceforth have the unanimous support of the great lords of Gambis, and there was no longer any doubt that he would influence the political landscape of the southern kingdoms.

Regardless of what Borui, the Randt Imperial territory, and Gambis ultimately negotiated regarding the grand scheme of expansion south of the river, any northern great lord who wanted to establish a foothold for their family on the South bank of the Goldwater River would first have to obtain the approval of the Gold-Eyed Earl and the Queen of Roses.

In other words, how to divide the lands and resources of the Southern Continent was an internal conflict among the southern lords, with Victor and Sylvia as the secular leaders representing the southern expansion lords.

According to the principle of parity, whoever had the Qualification to establish equal diplomatic relations with Earl Randell would be the secular leader of the northern expansion lords.

Both Frederick and Baselius had this Qualification. The sudden cooling of the relationship between Victor and Uther had a hugely negative effect on the political influence of the Baselius family.

Siegfried had reason to be happy, but Grace knew her son’s thoughts. She sighed and said, “The political structure of the Gambis Kingdom is stable. Not long ago, Catherine gave birth to Earl Randell’s daughter… It’s not as if the Auguste family needs to seek foreign aid just because Randall has advanced to a Sun Elf. The rumors I once spread about you marrying the Auguste princess were just a petty trick not fit for public display. Besides the Dodor Kingdom we are at war with, no one would take it seriously… Zieg, you must remember, the Empress holds sway over the Sasan Empire’s internal and foreign affairs, and the Sasan Emperor can only marry a noblewoman from a Paladin family.”

The Sasan Crown Prince lowered his head and coughed dryly, changing the subject. “Kalomon and the others did not see the process of His Highness Randall’s battle with the Bear-monster. Judging from the reaction of that big guy Caligula, His Highness Randall intentionally hid something… This might be the reason for the Gold-Eyed Earl’s coldness toward Baselius.”

“Mother, do you think… Baselius might have sent someone to spy on the Gold-Eyed Earl, and he found out?”

Grace countered, “Who could spy on the Gold-Eyed Earl and not be discovered?”

“…Wizards. The wizards that Baselius secretly keeps.”

Grace was unmoved by her son’s speculation and continued to ask, “Besides that, are there any other possibilities?”

Siegfried thought for a moment, then slowly said, “Bloodline awakening!”

“His Highness Randall’s unusual actions in the Giantwood Forest prompted the Bear-monster chieftain to leave Giantwood Village. His knowledge of the Bear-monsters likely came from the bloodline memory of a Sun Elf… The battle to slay the Bear-monster Elder caused his Bloodline to awaken further, but it was unstable. He needs time to stabilize his Bloodline’s growth.”

“He rushed to Eaglenest Mountain that very night, and Eaglenest Mountain is not far from the Little Calf barracks where the Gambis reinforcements are stationed. Why didn’t the Gold-Eyed Earl go to the Little Calf Village barracks to rest?”

“Kalomon reported that once the Gold-Eyed Earl reached Eaglenest Mountain, he took eight secret art death commandos and that big guy Caligula and left the camp, wandering outside for half a day before returning.”

“This reminds me of a few years ago, when His Highness Randall often wandered alone at night in the Misty Mountains of Naville. Shortly after, he hunted the Gold Gnoll and revealed his gold eyes.”

“We can believe that night travel, forests, and hunting help His Highness Randall awaken his Sun Elf Bloodline. However, he didn’t stabilize his Bloodline in the Giantwood Forest, instead running to Eaglenest Mountain over a hundred kilometers away. This shows that His Highness Randall doesn’t trust Duke Baselius; he would rather rush to Eaglenest Mountain overnight to stabilize his Bloodline than stay in the Giantwood Forest.”

The Empress rose to her feet and walked to the edge of the balcony, gazing at the streetscape of the Nobles’ District. With her back to Siegfried, she said, “All eleven pioneer villages of the eastern defensive line have been reclaimed and rebuilt into solid barracks; the garrison militia and mobile cavalry are all in place; and with His Highness Randall overseeing the eastern defensive line war zone… the lords of the eastern and central empire can begin sowing the second season of green wheat.”

Siegfried was taken aback. He hadn’t expected his mother to be thinking about farming. He stepped forward and said, “Mother, the urgent matter at hand is to find out why the relationship between the Gold-Eyed Earl and Baselius has turned cold.”

Grace turned her head and smiled. “Didn’t you just suggest that Duke Baselius sent a wizard to secretly spy on the Gold-Eyed Earl, and the Earl discovered it?”

The Crown Prince said awkwardly, “I was just speaking off the cuff… This isn’t the Era of the Chosen. How could a wizard possibly deceive the Gold-Eyed Earl’s extraordinary Perception? Baselius wouldn’t be so reckless.”

Grace gave him a faint glance and said in a tone of educating her child, “My dear Zieg, no one can be all-knowing. Even the Great Divination can have unforeseen consequences. Sometimes, the truth is not important to us, such as the Gold-Eyed Earl’s secrets… If you try to pry into his privacy, you will surely infuriate him if he catches you, unless you are absolutely certain of success.”

“In comparison, farming is what’s most important… To be precise, recalling the refugees from Baselius’s territory is the most important thing.”

The eastern defensive line had gathered an army of several hundred thousand, with five Highnesses, two Legendary Priests, a Gold-rank Sacred Warrior Commander, and a Sanctuary-rank expert. It could be said to be impregnable.

It was impossible for the Sasan Empire to lose this beastman war!

What happens after the war ends?

Naturally, claiming territory on a map and distributing lordships. And a lord needs a large population to fill his new domain. As His Highness Randall had said, the people are the wealth of a fief.

The eastern part of the empire, controlled by the Sasan Imperial Family, had lost more than ninety percent of its refugee population. Without an abundant workforce, they would only be at a disadvantage in future development.

To gather refugees and turn them into tenant households, one must first win the will of the people. Under the current circumstances, a lord’s military prestige would play a decisive role. The five Highnesses on the eastern defensive line were all making good progress in fighting the beastmen and reclaiming lost territory, but apart from the two Highnesses of the Baselius family, the rest were all external reinforcements. The native refugees of the Sasan Empire felt no sense of belonging to them and were more willing to believe that the Baselius family could protect them and their families.

The great lords of the east and the Radiant Knights were trapped on the front lines of the East Pioneer Fief, and the Friedrich Imperial Family had no Knight who could contend with the two Highnesses of Baselius. But the Friedrich Imperial Family had one innate advantage that Baselius could not match.

They had the red earth that could grow green wheat.

By replanting a second season of green wheat, the Sasan Imperial Family would fully demonstrate their confidence in holding their territory. When the eastern lords offered the freemen hired laborers more generous wages than before, some of the refugees who had fled to the west of the empire for safety would naturally return.

Siegfried nodded and said, “Mother, I understand… However, Patriarch Flidis issued a Church edict demanding a scorched-earth policy in the east and center, ordering the women, children, and elderly among the refugees and subjects to migrate west for safety. If we start cultivating the land again now, will the Patriarch make things difficult for us?”

“Flidis is one of us, but I despise him,” the Sasan Empress said with a sigh.

The Fredericks were of the Testier Bloodline. They had held the Sasan throne for over seven hundred years, and their secularization was severe. To ensure control over the Sasan lords, the Radiant Knights demanded that the Sasan Emperor must marry a noblewoman from a Paladin family to be the Empress, who would then control the imperial court.

Grace married the current Sasan Emperor and, during her apprentice knight phase, bore him the heir to the throne, thereby cutting off her own Knight’s Path. She had taken Vigor Potions to barely advance to an initial-rank Bronze Knight, a truly enormous sacrifice. Logically, her control over the imperial family’s power was a form of compensation. Unfortunately, she had encountered the forceful Patriarch Flidis. A single word from Flidis in the Sasan Empire carried more weight than her, the Empress. Grace had to concede at every turn, so of course she did not like Patriarch Flidis.

Shaking her head and suppressing her displeasure, Grace said flatly, “Flidis is known for being just and rigid, but in reality, he is an old fox. There are some things he finds inconvenient to do, so he has us do them… What do you think he summoned you for?”

Siegfried had a sudden realization, then said angrily, “His Excellency the Patriarch doesn’t want to go back on his word. He hinted that we should reopen the farmlands. He’ll probably even reprimand me for it… That old man is more cunning than a chicken-stealing wild fox.”

Grace’s eyes curved into crescents as she covered her mouth and laughed. “His hint is to our advantage. Even if you get scolded, you can’t refuse. You can’t let your mother be reprimanded by the Patriarch, can you?”

The Crown Prince said sullenly, “It is what I must do.”

Grace’s mood brightened considerably. She said with a smile, “The Patriarch’s hint isn’t that simple. Although we don’t know why His Highness Randall has suddenly shown coldness and wariness towards his cousins, we can tear their relationship apart even further.”

“The famous Countess Sophia is currently in Baselius’s territory, organizing refugees to migrate south. How many people can the Gambis Kingdom absorb? No more than half a million… But that is the number she wants, and the vassal lords of Baselius are very unhappy, creating difficulties at every turn. The work of migrating the Gambis refugees is progressing slowly. It’s reported that Sophia has already taken her barbarian followers to visit each of the families that refuse to cooperate.”

“We will give her a push from behind to help Sophia complete her task as soon as possible,” the Empress said flatly, leaning on the balustrade. “You will send Skunk to the west.”

Skunk was a wizard secretly kept by the Sasan Imperial Family. True to his name, his innate Wizardry was to release foul odors, and he could simulate various kinds of stenches. Skunk’s innate Wizardry was harmless to humans, mainly used for Tracking and interference. However, if a peculiar stench appeared in a densely populated refugee camp, it would inevitably be associated with infectious diseases and plagues.

Whether there was a plague in the refugee camp or not, a lord could find out with a single investigation. However, rumors are a fearsome thing. If the refugees insisted on leaving, the lord’s family would not be able to stop them even if they tried.

So, who released the non-toxic, harmless, and inexplicable stench?

Wherever Sophia went, problems arose in the refugee camps there. It would be difficult for the vassal lords of the Baselius family not to suspect her. Country squires loved to slander those they envied by giving them nicknames. If the famously beautiful Countess Randell became associated with a stench, how would she and her husband react?

Even Zieg felt that his mother’s methods were far too insidious.

Chapter 638: Twists and Turns

Marfa Fortress, the core of the northern section of the Sasan eastern defensive line.

Auroxia walked alone through a dimly lit corridor. The sharp clack, clack of her elegant, half-high heeled war boots on the stone floor echoed with a unique rhythm, making one anticipate the appearance of the footsteps’ owner.

Armored swordsmen stood every ten meters on either side of the corridor. Their figures were well-proportioned, their gazes indifferent. An eagle-headed lion sigil was painted on their half-body scale armor. Even as the stunningly beautiful Duchess of Baselius approached, they merely bowed their heads in respect, never stealing a second glance.

The presence of these secret-art swordsmen made the entire corridor feel heavily guarded and the atmosphere solemn.

As Auroxia reached the door at the end of the corridor, the oak door opened from within, as if it had eyes of its own. Without pausing, she stepped into the room and walked directly to the refined iron desk in the center, taking a seat in the main chair behind it.

Uther closed the door and turned to ask, “How did the investigation go?”

Auroxia shook her head gently, her voice soft. “Floro carefully surveyed the battle scene left behind by His Highness Randall and the Bear-monster. He reconstructed parts of the battle but didn’t sense any trace of Wizardry.”

Uther seized upon the key point, asking suspiciously, “Parts of the process?”

“His Highness Randall first pursued the Bear-monster Elder, then the two sides approached each other, accompanied by some form of communication. At the final moment of their clash, Floro’s innate Wizardry couldn’t reconstruct it. The level of power that erupted from Victor and the Bear-monster Elder exceeded the limits of Floro’s retroactive Wizardry.”

Auroxia cupped her slightly chubby-cheeked face in her hand and said thoughtfully, “Twelve hundred years ago, the main members of the Iron Mountain imperial family fell one after another while resisting the beastmen invaders. Our branch of the Baselius family, having participated in the Pantheon Uprising, was exiled by the Empire and the Church and thus escaped that calamity. We lost most of our collected books, and there is much secret lore that even you and I do not know.”

“I was once looking through the family annals, and they recorded such an event… In the eleventh year of the Iron Mountain Empire’s founding by Ancestor Draven and Ancestor Verodica, Draven was wandering alone in a forest and hunted and killed a group of Bear-monsters. Not long after he returned to the imperial capital, he disappeared for 244 days.”

“During that time, the Empress forbade anyone from visiting Ancestor Draven. Even Alijie Testier was refused by the Empress when she wanted to see him.”

“When Ancestor Draven reappeared, his ears were long, and he stood 2.1 meters tall. He had completely transformed into a Sun Elf and had mastered the Elven language.”

The family annals concisely recorded family events in chronological order. Anyone reading the annals of the Baselius family would find it difficult to connect Draven’s life transformation with the hunting of Bear-monsters.

A thought struck Uther, and he said pensively, “The Bear-monster Elder and His Highness Randall were communicating at the time. The bloodline knowledge it revealed triggered Cousin Victor’s bloodline memory, prompting his transformation, which would lead to a deep slumber… Cousin Victor doesn’t trust us, and now is not a good time for him to enter a slumber for his transformation. So he rushed to Eaglenest Mountain overnight to find a way to suppress the bloodline transformation. He’ll wait until he’s back in the Centaur Hills to have Sylvia guard him during his slumber…”

Auroxia’s dimples appeared as she smiled. “Didn’t he also skip going to the Little Calf Village barracks? The bloodline transformation must be a major event for him. He trusts no one but Sylvia. His departure without a word isn’t necessarily aimed at us.”

Uther shook his head. “That’s just the best-case scenario. We must consider the worst.”

Auroxia’s smile faded, and she glared at him. “Eve is a kind child and a devout believer of the Lord of Radiance. She does everything in her power to help those warriors undergoing the secret art modifications. Every time someone fails to endure the Wizardry modification, she cries in secret and prays to the Lord of Radiance for those who suffer.”

Uther smiled bitterly and shook his head. “I’m not planning to torture Eve. Although she is a member of the Shadow Priests, since the Shadow Bishop sent her here, she must have limited knowledge. They aren’t afraid of us torturing her.”

His tone shifted, becoming serious. “We know too little about Wizards. Floro’s retro-cognition also has various limitations. It’s been over twenty days since Victor slew the Bear-monster. The fact that Floro didn’t sense any trace of Wizardry in the Giantwood Forest doesn’t mean Victor wasn’t attacked by the Shadow Priests. The Shadow Priests are sheltered by the Church; they have opportunities to obtain the legacies of the ancient Chosen. Counting from when the Trigovar family took control of the Inquisition, this secret Wizard organization has existed for at least a thousand years. The fact that they can hide from the Trigovars and attempt to break free from the Inquisition’s control speaks to the Shadow Priests’ resources and heritage. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if they have Legendary-level Wizards. It would be abnormal if they dared to defy the Trigovar family without a legendary powerhouse.”

Auroxia retorted, “Let’s assume a legendary powerhouse from the Shadow Priests did attack Victor… What good would it do them?”

“Who knows? Perhaps killing a Sun Elf holds some special meaning for certain Wizards… We can’t use the mindset of lords to measure mysterious and strange Wizards.”

Uther shrugged his shoulders. “Any organization with multiple powerhouses of similar strength will eventually have internal disagreements. The Shadow Bishop negotiating with us can’t represent all Shadow Priests who desire the Church’s recognition.”

“Disagreements? Like the one between us?”

“At the very least, we should investigate it thoroughly…”

“It’s been investigated, but nothing could be found! Victor knows what happened, but he won’t tell us.”

“If he was attacked and refuses to tell us, it means he suspects we were involved in the attack, or were even the masterminds.”

“We weren’t involved, and he has no proof. So, he can only suspect, and he still won’t tell us.”

Uther said grimly, “No one can withstand Sylvia’s wrath. She killed the Gold-Sparrow Duke’s nephew, a Great Knight of the Dodor Kingdom, just on the suspicion that the Dodor people had tried to assassinate Victor. The Gold-Eyed Earl is only one step away from becoming a Sun Elf. If he was truly assassinated in the Giantwood Forest, how do you think Sylvia would react?”

Auroxia sighed. “Then what do you propose?”

“It is a fact that we leaked Cousin Victor’s whereabouts to the Shadow Priests. I believe we should take the initiative to talk with Cousin Victor… If the Shadow Priests used us to assassinate the Sun Elf, we must retaliate,” Uther said with a cold expression.

Auroxia chuckled. “And what if the Shadow Priests didn’t try to assassinate Cousin Victor? Hold a three-way meeting for a direct confrontation? Isn’t that exactly what the Shadow Priests are hoping for? Cousin Victor is deliberately giving us the cold shoulder, perhaps waiting for us to confess to him… But we have no intention of getting involved in the struggle between the Shadow Priests and the Inquisition. We only want to seize the Wizard legacy from their hands. The Shadow Priests dared to seek our cooperation, so they’re clearly not afraid of our retaliation or schemes. We don’t even know the Shadow Bishop’s identity. The Wizards and Shadow Priests they’ve exposed to us are all expendable pawns.”

Uther thought for a moment, then looked up and asked, “You think Cousin Victor’s sudden departure was a deliberate test for us?”

Auroxia said coldly, “I only know that to fall into disarray ourselves before the matter is fully investigated is to betray the heart of the eagle-lion and dishonor the glory of our ancestors.”

Uther said, displeased, “As lords shouldering the future of our family, we must act with caution. And posture is more important than the truth, especially when facing a Sun Elf and a Spirit Knight. The Shadow Priests were always meant to be sold out. Rather than selling them to the Pontiff, it’s better to sell them to Cousin Victor first.”

Auroxia considered this, then nodded. “You’re right, there should be a symmetrical posture between lords… But the key is timing. The Pantheon Uprising fifteen hundred years ago weakened the Church, which indirectly led to the collapse of the Empire. Because the Empire and the Church supported each other militarily and were mutually dependent, when the Church’s clergy suffered heavy losses, the Empire found it difficult to cope with the beastmen’s infiltration and attacks. The Bloodlust Legion, with its extraordinary power, can help us expand our territory, restore the Iron Mountain Empire, and allow the Eagle-Lion family to return to its zenith.”

“Since Eve arrived, she has already trained sixty-seven Bloodguards and four Shadow Warriors for us. Her Wizardry can soothe the minds of the trainees and alleviate their symptoms of madness. Although her Wizardry cannot be replicated, the more successful cases there are, the more experience the family’s Wizards will accumulate. I believe it won’t be long before we obtain a training method for the Bloodlust Legion that belongs to the Baselius family, one that can be passed down as a stable legacy. Not only that, but the family’s Wizards can also use this opportunity to start the Baselius family’s legacy in potion-craft.”

“What exactly happened in the Giantwood Forest? Did the Shadow Priests attack His Highness Randall? Is His Highness Randall suppressing a bloodline transformation? We know nothing at all. But if you take the initiative and confess our dealings with the Shadow Priests to Cousin Victor, I guarantee you, Sylvia and Cousin Victor will definitely send someone to take Eve away, without a moment’s delay!”

“I will not hand over Eve until the family has mastered the training methods for Bloodguards and Shadow Warriors,” the female Guardian of the Baselius family stated resolutely.

Uther nodded and said, “But I must remind you, assuming the Shadow Priests did attack His Highness Randall in the Giantwood Forest, if we continue to hide it from him and give no warning, it’s tantamount to conspiracy.”

If the Shadow Priests had assassinated the Gold-Eyed Earl once, perhaps there would be a second time, a third. Judging from Victor’s behavior, he already suspected the Baselius family. If he were attacked again, they would truly be unable to absolve themselves.

Anything involving the Gold-Eyed Earl was no small matter. His unusual actions had made the two Highnesses of the Baselius family suspicious and caught in a dilemma. Auroxia felt deeply helpless about it.

She mused, “Cousin Victor is testing us, so we might as well test him back… I have an agreement with Princess Auguste that Aerie Fortress will provide us with four Konjac potions annually. If, five months from now, they break the agreement and no longer provide us with the potions, it means Cousin Victor was indeed the target of an assassination in the Giantwood Forest, and he suspects we were involved.”

“And then?” Uther pressed. “Aerie Fortress unilaterally breaks the agreement, and the family’s Wizards still haven’t perfected the training methods for Bloodguards and Shadow Warriors. How do you plan to respond?”

Auroxia bit her lip and said, “Confess about the Shadow Priests to the Gold-Eyed Earl; jointly research the secret arts of the Bloodguards and Shadow Warriors with Aerie Fortress and Centaur Hills; and give the part of the family annals concerning the Sun Elf bloodline transformation to Sylvia. We’ll do our best to gain Gambis’s understanding and support to re-establish our supply of Blue Taro potions.”

“Five months? Alright, I agree to your plan.” The Duke of Baselius nodded in approval, then added, “We also need to mend our relationship with Victor now, otherwise Grace will cause us trouble again.” He paused, then sighed and said, “Sophia is currently relocating refugees in the western part of the Empire. I had already ordered the Family General Steward to cooperate with her as much as possible, but Marchioness Wimbledon just had to insist on visiting every noble family of Baron rank or higher.”

Auroxia asked in surprise, “What is Sophia trying to do?”

“She has always styled herself as a great merchant noble. What do you think she’s trying to do?” The Duke of Baselius shook his head. “She’s selecting able-bodied men, women, children, and artisans from among the refugees on one hand, while investigating the produce of each family on the other. She even wants to co-build a public carriage system with them.”

Auroxia was speechless. Sophia intended to open up the trade routes in the western Empire and trade directly with the vassal families of Baselius, which would harm the interests of Baselius as the suzerain.

“Don’t stop her. Just let her be,” Auroxia said, lazily rubbing her forehead. “In any case, the western Empire is just the west. Occupying the Centaurs’ territory is the core strategy of the Iron Mountain Empire.”

The Duke of Baselius smiled. “Then I’ll send someone to pass the news to Cousin Victor. After all, Sophia is his wife. Our concessions to Marchioness Wimbledon are entirely out of respect for him.”

“Where is Cousin Victor now?”

“The entrenched beastmen in the East Pioneer Fief can no longer resist our cavalry. The Church has spread the word that the Gold-Eyed Earl is preparing to lead a team to Bright City to hunt and kill the powerful among the Centaurs.”

On the plains at the front line of the East Pioneer Fief, a Sasan cavalryman galloped wildly on his horse as arrows whistled past his ears. He flipped his body, at times hanging on the right side of his warhorse, at others swinging to the left.

More than thirty Centaur hunters pursued the Sasan cavalryman, firing their heavy bows to force him to constantly roll and dodge on horseback, all while letting out piercing, strange laughter.

To the Centaurs, a human soldier’s exquisite horsemanship was a joke. Hunting human cavalry had always been a favorite form of entertainment for Centaur hunters.

The chase continued. The human cavalryman seemed to be running out of strength; his evasive maneuvers were a beat too slow, and a heavy arrow shot by a Centaur struck him in the back of the heart. He cried out in pain and fell onto the horse’s back. A chorus of hisses rose from the Centaur hunters, mocking their companion who had accidentally killed the prey. That Centaur whinnied in annoyance and galloped after the out-of-control warhorse.

The tribe’s food supply was running low. Capturing a human cavalryman could fill a stomach, and a live horse could be kept and eaten later. Although they were half horse, they still ate horse meat.

Centaurs were omnivores who preferred meat to grass. Their stamina and speed surpassed that of the fine horses from the Warton Great Plains, and they soon caught up to the riderless warhorse.

Suddenly, the human cavalryman hanging from the horse’s back instantly drew his bow and fired a sneak shot at the Centaur that had caught up.

Caught off guard, the galloping Centaur took the sharp arrow through its eye socket and into its head. It screamed in pain, charged forward for several dozen meters, staggered around in circles, and finally collapsed to the ground, its limbs twitching, unable to rise again.

The other Centaur hunters were shocked and enraged. Javelins and heavy arrows rained down, and the Warton warhorse neighed mournfully, instantly turning into a pincushion.

Having succeeded with one arrow, the Sasan cavalryman grabbed the round shield by his saddle, nimbly flipped off his horse’s back to dodge the javelins and stray arrows, rolled on the ground, and held the shield before him. He drew javelins from his back and threw them in succession. Unfortunately, the two javelins he threw failed to hit the nimble Centaurs.

“Come on, you monsters!” the Sasan cavalryman roared, holding his last javelin level in a stance for a fight to the death.

An obsidian javelin flew over the cavalryman’s head.

The Centaur captain grabbed his companion’s arm and cursed, “Idiot, I’m going to strip the iron skin off him and wear it myself!”

With that, the burly Centaur captain raised two heavy spiked clubs and charged toward the lone Sasan cavalryman.

The cavalryman gritted his teeth. When the Centaur captain charged within one hundred meters, he threw his last javelin with all his might.

Clang. Splat.

The Centaur captain raised his spiked club to parry the cavalryman’s javelin, but his head exploded like a melon smashed by a sledgehammer. A blast of air sent a spray of blood everywhere, and the headless Centaur limply flopped to the ground.

The Centaur hunters screamed and scattered in all directions. The Sasan cavalryman stared at his own right hand in confusion, muttering to himself:

“Am I an Evildoer? How could I possibly be a damned Wizard?”

The sound of rushing wind came from behind him. Twenty human warriors bypassed the stunned Sasan cavalryman and chased after the Centaurs fleeing in every direction. They wore dark red, full-body leather armor and wielded purple sandalwood warbows, running even faster than the four-legged Centaurs. Arrow after arrow accurately pierced the Centaurs’ horned heads, taking their lives.

By the time the Sasan cavalryman came to his senses, these powerful warriors had already killed most of the Centaur hunters. One of them had even kicked a thousand-pound Centaur flying more than ten meters, then pounced on it and broke its spine before dragging it back by its hind legs.

The monsoon winds carried the roars of beasts. The Sasan cavalryman turned to see a troop of war beast cavalry jogging over, surrounding a Knight.

That Knight rode a giant lion with pure silver-white fur and a single horn on its forehead. He wore dark cyan leather armor and held an eagle-shaped metal warbow. His features were handsome and radiant, and his eyes, ringed with dark gold halos, seemed both mysterious and noble.

The single-horned lion carried the mysterious, handsome Knight to the Sasan cavalryman. He looked down at the soldier with an appreciative expression and asked in a gentle tone, “Warrior, what is your name, and which lord do you serve?”

The Sasan cavalryman quickly dropped his weapon and bowed respectfully. “My esteemed lord, I am a vassal cavalryman of Earl Tokert. My name is Karu.”

“Earl Tokert? Emperor Friedrich’s Fourth Bloodwolf Guard… Bright City must not be far.”

Victor nodded, hopped down from his magnificent aberrant war beast, and ordered to those behind him, “Priest Kalomon, if you would be so kind as to treat this brave soldier’s arrow wound. I have some questions for him.”

Chapter 639: The Great War Approaches

The Centaur’s arrow failed to pierce the Sasan cavalryman’s armor, and Kamon only suffered a minor injury. Priest Kalomon, respecting his bravery, ordered his assistant priest to take him away to treat his wounds. Victor took the heavy arrow, greatbow, and javelin handed to him by his Personal Guard attendant and inspected the Centaur’s military equipment with great interest.

The Centaur’s arrow was as thick as a normal person’s little finger and about 1.3 meters long. The shaft was not perfectly straight, the fletching was made from a hodgepodge of materials, and the arrowheads were fashioned from polished bone or obsidian, with a few being made of metal. They were heavier than the arrows commonly used by humans, yet they felt oddly light overall.

The craftsmanship of their other military equipment was just as crude, reminiscent of a common phrase merchants use when haggling: “Was this thing made by Goblins?”

The arrows were irregular—some light, some heavy. For an archer, such arrows would severely impact accuracy. The Centaurs’ use of these crude arrows reflected their terrible logistics, but it also proved they possessed an innate talent for mobile archery that surpassed humans.

“My lord, come look! The Centaur is so ugly,” Charlotte said, waving from a short distance away.

Most people from Gambis had never seen a live Centaur. The members of Randall’s personal guard all gathered to stare at the captured monster. Even Narsen, like Caligula, was poking and prodding the Centaur with his hands, frightening the creature into a series of pitiful whines.

Victor walked forward, and the crowd automatically parted to let their master into the circle. Charlotte took his arm and said in a delicate voice, “The Centaur doesn’t look like a person at all, nor does it look like a horse.”

The creature lying on the ground had an upper body that resembled a human and a lower body much like a horse’s, but its facial features were flat and ugly. Where its ears should have been, there was a pair of spiraling, curved horns. Its forelimbs ended not in hooves but in four-toed claws, and its tail was like a serpent’s, giving it a bizarre appearance.

Narsen curiously pulled apart the Centaur’s hind legs. Everyone, including the two Rose Knights, craned their necks to get a better look.

Macy and the two apprentice knight handmaidens from Rose Manor giggled, while Charlotte chided, “Lordship, you are being too rude.”

Narsen let go, saying sheepishly, “I heard Centaurs are as big as draft horses. This monster is a bit small, so I thought it was a female…”

Priest Kalomon laughed and explained, “A Centaur the size of a draft horse is a Savage monster. On average, only one in every one hundred and twenty Centaurs becomes a Savage Centaur. This is just an ordinary young Centaur hunter… Don’t be fooled by its size—it might be smaller than a draft horse and weigh only thirteen hundred pounds, but its strength surpasses that of an apprentice knight. It’s about five to six times stronger than an ordinary person.”

He glanced at the Alchemical Soldier who had captured the Centaur bare-handed and said with admiration, “Of course, it’s still a far cry from His Highness Randall’s Mystic Warriors.”

The ratio for a Half-dragon of the swamp to enter a Savage state was one in thirty. For humans, it was one in seven thousand. Centaurs had formidable base qualities, so their Savage state ratio of one in one hundred and twenty was actually quite astounding. But an ordinary Savage Centaur was still no match for an Alchemical Soldier. The self-adapting talent allowed an Alchemical Soldier’s Perception attribute to be adjusted to twenty-one points. With that level of agility, very few Savage Centaurs could overpower an Alchemical Soldier. Conversely, not many Centaurs could escape from an Alchemical Soldier’s grasp.

Narsen picked up the Centaur’s warbow and drew it slightly. He curled his lip in disdain and said, “A Centaur’s upper body strength is quite poor, only two or three times that of a normal farmer.”

Priest Kalomon nodded. “That’s right. Not only is there a difference in strength, but their defense is also different.” He crouched down, fiddled with the Centaur captive, and pointed to its back, saying, “Look, the skin on its lower body is tough and coarse, with keratinized features. Its sense of pain is also dulled. It’s natural armor, protecting it from poisonous insect bites as well as powerful bows and heavy crossbows. Sasan cavalrymen are particularly fond of armor made from Centaur hide.”

Narsen stroked his short beard and added, “So they don’t feel pain… No wonder. If a Centaur got bitten on the back by a bug, it wouldn’t even be able to scratch the itch.”

Kalamon laughed heartily. He made a slicing motion with his hand across the Centaur’s midsection and said, “Centaurs sweat from their upper bodies. A slice from a beheading sword right here, and you’ll separate the man from the horse. The upper body is a Centaur’s weak point, which is why they like to steal armor from human soldiers to cover it.”

Victor nodded and said, “The Centaur’s strange body shape limits its fighting techniques. A forward kick, a backward kick—they have no other moves. As long as you get to a Centaur’s side in a one-on-one melee, they can’t even defeat a regular Elite Soldier.”

Kalamon said admiringly, “Your Highness, such sharp insight.”

Any veteran soldier could see a Centaur’s weakness. Kalomon’s flattery was overly direct and artless, and Victor himself found it awkward and dull.

“My lord’s wisdom is extraordinary,” Charlotte said, her smile like a blooming flower, her eyes filled with admiration and tender affection.

Victor’s mood lifted instantly. He smiled and said, “No one understands a Centaur’s weaknesses better than the Centaurs themselves. That is precisely why they have developed mobile archery and the mass charge to their absolute peak, becoming the most difficult beastmen race to deal with.”

The young knight Klaus silently committed his master’s viewpoint to memory, while Brandon asked with an expectant look, “My lord, can we defeat an army of four hundred thousand Centaurs?”

Victor looked around at his attendants and said with certainty, “Humans are the most adaptable and quick-to-learn intelligent species. The only beastmen who can truly contend with us are the Goblins. They have to ally with Centaurs, Ogres, Gnolls, Bear-monsters, and so on just for a chance to invade our lands, but the beastman armies have never defeated humanity, nor will they ever. The fact that the soldier Kamon, while being hunted by a small group of Centaur scouts, could still shoot and kill a Centaur is proof enough of humanity’s adaptability and immense potential.”

“We have a natural advantage, but we must be sufficiently cautious in our strategy and tactics. Even if we have the ability to crush the army of four hundred thousand Centaurs head-on, we should still do our best to weaken our opponent and minimize our own losses.”

Just then, Priest Kalomon’s deputy walked over with the cavalryman, Kamon, and said respectfully, “Your Highness, Kamon has recovered.”

“Praise the supreme Lord of Radiance.”

Victor’s gaze turned to the Sasan cavalryman, who was chanting with his head bowed. He was about thirty years old, in the prime of his life, with sharp facial features, a full beard, and a tall, sturdy build. His thick arms were corded with muscle, and his gray-green eyes were sharp and alert. The man exuded a valiant air.

The abilities of an ordinary soldier should not be underestimated. Kamon, in a desperate situation, was still able to turn the tables and kill a Centaur hunter. His masterful mounted archery skills and his cleverness in exploiting the enemy’s change in mentality were both worthy of praise, and his resolute will to fight was even rarer.

Victor had rescued this Sasan cavalryman, and his impressive performance had taught the Silver Moon Attendants a lesson.

“Someone, pick out a suit of crocodile-hide armor for this Warrior,” Victor ordered.

A Lithe Ape militiaman from the personal guard immediately sized up Kamon’s frame, selected a dark red suit of hide armor from a pack on a pack horse, and helped him put it on.

Leather armor was light and flexible, the preferred protection for ordinary soldiers. The Randall family’s crocodile-hide armor was made from the plate-like hide of the six-legged crocodile and the scaly hide of the Giant Python, with a layer of finely woven Vine armor made from mountain vines sandwiched in between. It was slightly heavier than ordinary double-layered leather armor, but its defensive capabilities were comparable to metal scale armor, making it arguably the best ordinary hide armor available.

Kamon was both surprised and delighted. He bowed respectfully and said, “Thank you for your generous gift, My lord.”

“This is your reward. That Centaur is also your war trophy. My men will skin it for you. As for its flesh and blood, I’ll buy it for ten Gold Sols.”

Victor nodded and then asked, “Kamon of House Tokete, why were you being chased by Centaur hunters?”

Kamon bowed slightly and replied, “Your Excellency, my companions and I were ordered to scout the Centaurs’ movements. We encountered a squad of Centaur hunters ahead. Since we were outnumbered and our mounts couldn’t outrun the Centaurs, we followed scout protocol and fled in different directions. The idea is that for every one that escapes, it’s a success, as long as one of us can bring the intelligence back to the garrison castle or barracks in Bright City, the mission is considered complete. I was unlucky and got targeted by several dozen Centaur hunters.”

“Praise the Supreme Lord, I was fortunate to be rescued by you, My lord, and the esteemed priest. Otherwise, I would have already gone to the Lord’s divine kingdom.” Kamon fell silent for a moment, then said with a hollow laugh, “I wonder how the other brothers are doing?”

A lord’s Vassal soldiers were mostly brothers who had grown up together. They shared deep bonds, coordinated seamlessly, and showed far more initiative than mercenary soldiers held together by strict military discipline. A lord invested a great deal in training elite cavalrymen like Kamon and would not send them on a suicide reconnaissance mission. The reason was simple: if scouts couldn’t bring back intelligence, their sacrifice would be meaningless.

Centaurs were more mobile than ordinary cavalry. In a fixed area where Centaurs were numerous and active, a lord could send out one hundred cavalry scouts from the city, and not even ten might make it back alive.

The task of scouting Centaurs was usually handled by powerful War Beast Knights. There were a considerable number of Horned Wolf cavalry, Moon Bear Knights, and Horned Wolf Sacred Warriors on the front lines of the East Pioneer Fief. When ordinary Centaurs encountered them, they could only eat dust. And if a Savage Centaur gave chase alone, it would be a suicide mission.

The fact that Victor had encountered Sasan Empire scout cavalry on the outskirts of Bright City indicated that the situation on the battlefield had quietly changed. The great Centaur army was contracting its front line, and the human armies were waiting for an opportunity to strike.

“Since when have the Centaur hunters become less active in the surrounding area?” Victor asked.

Kamon thought for a moment and said, “A month ago, after the Goblins finished harvesting the nearby green wheat, the Centaur scouts gradually withdrew from the area around Bright City’s garrison castle. Master Tokete ordered two hundred scouts out of the castle to reconnoiter westward for any signs of Centaur activity. We discovered that the Centaur hunters in the East Pioneer Fief were gathering at their camps, and almost no groups of Centaurs were heading west. The Centaur hunters I encountered earlier were all returning from the East Pioneer Fief.”

The eastern Sasan Empire had two military defensive lines: the original eastern defensive line and the newly built front line of the Pioneer Fief. The several hundred thousand square kilometers of the East Pioneer Fief were situated between these two lines. Kamon said that Centaur troops were constantly moving from west to east. These Centaurs were actually scout-hunters sent by the beastman army to gather food and supplies in the East Pioneer Fief. Their west-to-east movement meant there was no more food left to collect in the East Pioneer Fief.

Victor couldn’t be certain if the army of four hundred thousand Centaurs was facing a famine, but it was clear that their required food supplies now had to be provided by the Goblin slaves of the Westdon Khanate.

They currently had only one supply line left—the one from their lair, and it was just to the west of Bright City!

The fields were barren, the endless green wheat having been uprooted by the Goblins, exposing the dark red soil. Ripe green wheat, like the wheat of the south, was golden yellow, but green wheat didn’t need to ripen to be eaten. As long as the grain was full, it was edible. It could be planted and harvested twice a year, and the green wheat straw was excellent green fodder for raising cattle, sheep, and horses.

Green wheat was also the main food source for the Centaurs, who relied on Goblin slaves to cultivate it for them. The beastmen of the Westdon Khanate had eaten all the green wheat in the East Pioneer Fief, but they still had vast amounts of it waiting to be harvested in their own territory.

However, the Centaurs had lost several hundred thousand Goblin slaves in the East Pioneer Fief. Relying solely on the few hundred thousand Goblins in their rear to transport green wheat to the front lines to feed four hundred thousand Centaurs was an almost impossible task. The Centaurs had to withdraw some of their forces to their home territory to feed themselves and, at the same time, take on the task of transporting grain.

Once the Centaurs split their forces, the pressure on the human allied forces on the East Pioneer Fief front would be drastically reduced. Would Grand Commander Testier let the Centaurs retreat unscathed?

The pitched battle was imminent.

Victor gazed to the east, in the direction of Bright City and the Centaur army’s camp. After a moment, he withdrew his gaze and said to the Sasan cavalryman, “Kamon, do you know the way to Bright City?”

“My lord, I’ve been to Bright City. I know the way.” Kamon pointed east and added, “It’s a two-day ride from here. With a forced march, switching between two horses, we can make it in just over half a day.”

“Good. Lead us to Bright City.”

Victor nodded, then instructed Narsen, “Clean up the battlefield quickly. We will begin a forced march shortly and reach Bright City before evening.”

Narsen cleared his throat, pointed at the paralyzed Centaur captive, and asked in a low voice, “My lord, what do we do with this thing?”

Priest Kalomon and the other clergy members pretended not to hear, turning and walking away as if nothing had happened.

Victor said coolly, “I had the Elite Guards capture a live Centaur. Of course we’re taking it with us to Bright City.”

The Sasan Empire was vast and populous. Victor didn’t believe that the Sasan lords had no Wizards under their command who understood the language of beasts. Even if they really didn’t, the Radiant Knights would have to find a way to get one.

A Wizard’s talents were strange and varied, randomly generated. No one could be certain when a Wizard with the Comprehend Languages ability would appear.

What methods could a Paladin possibly have to interrogate a Centaur for intelligence?

The Council of the Chosen, The Shadow Council, the Shadow Council President, Trigovar’s Inquisition, the Radiant Knights—these were all the leads Victor could think of.

He had to find Grand Commander Testier before the pitched battle began and get one thing clear.

Chapter 640: Inquiry

Bright City was built by a lake. It was once a major western town of the Iron Mountain Empire, lost over nine hundred years ago. Now, none of the Sasan lords, including the Baselius family, ever spoke her former name. To do so would imply the political schism between the Iron Mountain Nobles and the Sasan Empire.

Her former name was Falling Cloud City. The Radiant Knights and the Sasan lords recaptured her from the hands of the Black-hoof Centaurs and renamed her Bright City. The name symbolized the prelude to the human kingdoms’ counter-offensive into the Northern Wildlands, a harbinger of humanity’s bright future.

Bright City was a monument to the great achievements of the Radiant Knights, possessing immense strategic value, historical significance, and political influence.

However, after being trampled by centaurs for centuries, the city was changed beyond recognition. The Sassans had held Bright City for less than four years, only having had time to excavate the trenches filled in by the Goblins and divert water from the lake to form a moat encircling the city. One hundred thousand able-bodied men had dismantled the few remaining ruins within the city, using the salvaged stone to repair and reinforce the time-worn, dilapidated walls. The gaps were filled and raised with wooden palisades. The wall, as if patched with wood, was lined with arrow towers. Most were simple log structures, interspersed with some limestone ballista platforms, all of varying heights. From a distance, it resembled a great stone serpent, coiled end to end and covered in spines.

Compared to the major towns of the human kingdoms, her defenses appeared shoddy and utterly devoid of planning.

Even so, the monstrously-built centaurs could not conquer Bright City.

When a lookout on a watchtower spotted a troop of well-armored, mixed cavalry riding toward Bright City, the guard on duty immediately lowered the drawbridge and dispatched an elite cavalry unit to greet them.

As Victor and Father Kalomon led their troops across the drawbridge, they were instantly met with a wave of cheers from the Sasan soldiers lining the road. Their shouts were like sparks hitting a pan of hot oil; the entire city soon erupted in a deafening roar of jubilant laughter. Sasan soldiers and Paladins ran about, spreading the news, and the sides of the road were quickly packed with people. If beautiful maidens in skirts had been there tossing flower petals, it would have been a grand welcoming ceremony. Unfortunately, all Victor could see were brawny men waving their thick arms, throwing their sweat-stained leather helmets into the air.

Bright City was locked in a long standoff with the Centaur army. Tens of thousands of soldiers had been trapped in the city for ten months. Although they maintained troop rotations with the surrounding garrison castles, this was the first time in over half a year that reinforcements from the eastern defensive line had appeared in Bright City. Though Victor’s contingent numbered just over a hundred, they received a fervent welcome from the entire city’s garrison. Caligula, in particular, drew attention with his towering frame. He was dragging a half-dead Centaur captive behind him, and as he passed, the crowd roared its approval. Some young Sasan soldiers even jumped up to slap him on the shoulder.

An uninformed observer might have thought the giant-like Caligula had captured the Centaur Khan himself. Fortunately, his constitution was as robust as a giant rhino’s; an ordinary person would have been knocked to the ground by the countless enthusiastic slaps. Caligula, however, was completely unfazed, grinning foolishly.

Dozens of armored knights hurried over, shouting sharply. Only then did the Sasan soldiers quiet down, bending over to pick up their leather helmets amidst a chorus of bumped heads and curses. Someone blew a whistle for dismissal, and the soldiers quickly returned to their posts or barracks, leaving behind a field of leather helmets, some of which had been trampled into the mud.

“Victor, I could smell you from a mile away.”

As the crowd dispersed, Tournans—his skin dark, his head bald and eyebrowless, clad in Dragon-Lizard leather armor—strode over with several High-ranked Knights. He had completely abandoned his former façade of a scholar-priest. “You’ve gotten stronger,” he said loudly. “Your scent is different, too. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“Stupid bear, you’ve gotten stronger too,” he said, sizing up Narsen. Then he looked up at the towering Caligula and muttered, “You’re actually lagging behind the big simpleton now. You need to work harder.”

“Tutor, good day,” Narsen stepped forward and performed a priest’s salute, grinning. “I’ll redouble my efforts.”

“Mm, may the supreme Lord of Radiance guide your Path.” Narsen’s formal greeting made the First Sacred Warrior show his true colors, and he once again put on the airs of a Cardinal.

“…Tournans.”

Seeing a familiar face, Caligula trotted over excitedly. He raised a hand, measuring the distance from Tournans’ bald head to his own chest, mocking him for being shorter.

“You idiot, why don’t you compare your height to a barbarian’s?” Tournans shot him a glare and scolded him.

These three were practically kindred spirits, and none of them possessed much political sense. They were so engrossed in their own conversation that they left Victor and the other High-ranked Knights standing to the side.

Victor had no choice but to step forward and interrupt them. “Tournans, it’s been a while. You look the same as ever.”

The First Sacred Warrior turned from Caligula and replied, “Heh, I’ve made progress too, you just can’t see it.”

Father Kalomon could bear it no longer. He stepped forward, cleared his throat, and said, “Your Highness, allow me to introduce…”

“Wait.” Tournans’ ear twitched. He cut Father Kalomon off, composed his expression, and spoke with the same solemnity as Pontiff Clement. “Your Highness Randall, allow me to introduce you. This is the Grand Commander of the Radiant Knights, Paladin Howard Testier…”

“Just call me Howard,” the Paladin said with a warm smile. “Cousin Victor, we finally meet.”

He wore the standard-issue hide armor of the Church’s high-ranking clergy. With black hair, ice-blue eyes, and handsome features, he bore some resemblance to Victor. The similarity wasn’t so much in their features as in the sharp aura they both possessed due to their affinity for the wind element.

In the past, a person’s first impression would be that Victor and Howard were brothers from the same family, with Victor being gentler and more reserved, while Howard was sharper and colder. However, ever since Father Miller helped Victor master the Mind in Ferment secret art, which allowed him to convert the water element in his body to the earth element, his entire aura had changed, gaining a hint of profound, ancient depth.

Victor’s current aura was now closer to that of Sylvia, who controlled the four void elements. Standing next to Testier, the difference between them was stark.

Still, according to the rules of family heraldry, the two were indeed blood relatives. Based on their age difference and family records, Victor should have addressed Testier as his uncle. However, heraldry was binding only for regular nobles; the ageless extraordinary individuals had their own circles. Unless it was a direct parent-child relationship, High-ranked Knights either addressed each other by name, as a sign of closeness, or used the titles ‘Your Excellency’ or ‘Your Highness’.

“Your Excellency Testier, it is an honor to meet you,” Victor nodded, using the respectful address for a clergyman, his tone neither warm nor cold.

Testier seemed unbothered. He turned slightly, revealing a High-ranked Knight with blue hair and amber eyes. “Cousin Victor, this is the Sasan Emperor, His Majesty Tharis Frederick. As it happens, he is also a distant cousin of yours.”

“Your Highness Randall, the heroic tale of you slaying three Gold rank beastmen in the East Pioneer Fief has reached Bright City. On behalf of the subjects of the Sasan Empire, I congratulate Your Highness on this great deed and thank you for all you have done for the Sasan people!” Emperor Friedrich performed a solemn Knight’s salute.

Victor returned the salute and looked around at the High-ranked Knights and clergy facing him. “The Blood Wolf Family and the Radiant Knights have defended the western fringe of the Northern Wildlands for centuries,” he said gravely. “They have fought bloody battles with fearless courage, slaying countless beastmen. Compared to the heroic deeds and brilliant accomplishments of the martyrs and all of you here, what we have done is insignificant. On behalf of the lords and subjects of the Gambis Kingdom, I extend my highest respects to all of you.”

A look of delight crossed Testier’s face. He made a guiding gesture with his hand and said, “Your Highness, let us speak in the cathedral. The finest building in Bright City is the cathedral.”

Victor, Tournans, Testier, and Friedrich walked abreast, with the others following behind. As they went, Victor saw not a single decent dwelling. The soldiers’ quarters were mere lean-tos made of wood and horsehide, without even proper walls. The air was thick with the acidic smell of rotting leather, and dried horse meat hung everywhere. The garrison of Bright City had clearly slaughtered many of its warhorses to reduce the consumption of fodder and supplement their dwindling food supplies.

Wood, stone, beast hides, horse meat, and warriors filled Bright City with a primitive vitality.

The cathedral was likely the only building in Bright City that embodied human civilization. Compared to the cathedral under construction in the Randell Fief, it was undoubtedly crude. If not for the iconic, towering bell tower, Victor would have thought it was a viscount’s castle.

In truth, it was indeed a fortress—a fortress in the hearts of the tens of thousands of soldiers in Bright City.

Without having experienced the cruelty of war, Victor could not fully grasp the importance of faith to soldiers. Even on Earth, a world where gods did not manifest, the roles of witch doctors, shamans, prophets, charlatans, and priests were woven throughout the entire history of human warfare. But in Taelon World, a cavalryman like Kamon, though unwilling to die, would still fight fiercely and unyieldingly in a desperate situation. His strength came from his faith in the Lord of Radiance, believing his soul would enter his Lord’s divine kingdom.

Whether he truly believed in eternal life in the divine kingdom was a secret only he knew. But when soldiers needed faith, it became their spiritual pillar and the wellspring of courage that allowed them to conquer their instinct for fear and transcend themselves.

There were tens of thousands of Sasan soldiers in Bright City. Their parents, brothers, wives, and children were all in the rear. They held fast to this crude city, powerlessly watching as a million beastmen crossed the front lines and advanced toward their homes. One could only imagine their inner turmoil.

Even if their living conditions were rudimentary, with soldiers sleeping in open-air shelters, the army’s high command had to first build the cathedral to arm their minds.

From the moment he stepped into Bright City, Victor saw the soaring morale and vigorous fighting spirit in the passionate eyes of the Sasan soldiers and Paladins, and he felt his own blood stir in response. A vast, unified spiritual will was infecting his mind.

The people are like a god.

Activating X-3 to purge the strange state from his mind, Victor stepped through the main doors of the cathedral. Guided by the resident priest, he offered a simple prayer before ascending to the second floor with the three Highnesses. The rest of their retinues followed Father Kalomon out of the church.

Tournans glanced at the eight Alchemical Soldiers trailing behind Narsen and couldn’t help but ask, “It’s only been a few years. How have your guards mastered the Gryphon and Gray Wolf Combat Techniques to such a degree? Why haven’t any of them ignited the fire of the mind?”

“They are Mystic Warriors, created through some special means,” Victor said faintly.

The great families all had different methods for cultivating Mystic Warriors, but most of them had an inhumane aspect. Forbidding them from procreating was one of the most common, but there were far crueler and darker methods. The major powers had never ceased their experiments on humans, drugs, and minds. The ultimate goal was to accumulate knowledge in these areas, which, on the whole, was beneficial to the development of the human kingdoms.

The Church’s upper echelons knew all of this—it was an open secret. Besides, their own hands weren’t clean. Weren’t all those potions for treating diseases, healing wounds, and enhancing strength the result of countless trials and refinements?

Tournans shook his head. “Using external force to increase their strength. No wonder they can’t ignite the fire of the mind.”

Victor just smiled without a word. The two combat techniques Tournans had left for the Randall family were definitely weakened versions; he was likely perfecting better secret arts. But he didn’t know that Victor was now the foremost authority in the field of Mind Bloodline secret art and had long since deciphered all the mysteries of both techniques.

The so-called “igniting the fire of the mind” was the state of unifying external force, inner potential, and the mind. The Ox-Subduing Mystic Form trained both inside and out, strengthening the body and invigorating the spirit; the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form honed the body and mind, coordinating hand and eye. Focusing on only one Mystic Form made it extremely difficult to ignite the fire of the mind. Tournans had created the Gryphon and Gray Wolf Combat Techniques by combining the characteristics of the Ox and the Monkey. However, the Gryphon technique leaned toward the Ox, and the Gray Wolf toward the Monkey. Neither was the optimal method for igniting the fire of the mind—at least, the versions he had passed on to the House of Randell were not yet perfected.

During his soul inspection, Victor had analyzed the structure of X-3, categorized it as a mind talent, and reverse-engineered a secret art to ignite the fire of the mind. Currently, the children adopted by Quicksilver Manor were practicing a primitive version of this secret art. Victor would use their progress to further adjust and optimize the level four Source Blood Secret Art.

However, although Victor and Tournans shared a common foundation, a subtle competition now existed between them as they delved deeper into their research. In the future, if Victor hit a bottleneck while designing the level four Source Blood Secret Art, he might engage in an exchange with Tournans.

For now, though, the time for collaboration was not yet ripe. Tournans could only offer a friendly pointer before dropping the subject.

In the center of the second-floor meeting room stood a round wooden table. The four of them sat around it, with no one taking precedence.

“Your Highness Randall, we received a messenger raven from Patriarch Flidis informing us that you had another breakthrough while slaying the Bear-monster Elder in the Giantwood Forest. On behalf of the Radiant Knights, I offer my congratulations. We will need Your Highness’s strength in this war. After we defeat the King of Beastmen, the Paladin families and the Sasan Empire will surely hold a victory feast in your honor and present you with celebratory gifts.”

Testier’s smile was amiable. Since Victor had been cool toward him earlier, he had switched to the more formal address of ‘Your Highness’.

Victor gave a slight, reserved nod. “I did indeed have some gains in the Giantwood Forest.”

“Over three thousand years ago, the Sword Saint Draven and Testier’s ancestor ventured into beastman territory, slew the Ogre King Vol’gan, dismantled the beastman kingdom, and saved millions of people. Now, Your Highness Randall has easily taken the head of an Ogre Warlord and killed three Gold rank beastman leaders in succession, clearing all obstacles on the eastern defensive line and the Pioneer Fief front. One hundred thousand cavalry from the rear have already entered the central Pioneer Fief and can join the main army at any time to annihilate the Sidon Centaur forces. Your Highness Randall has made the greatest contribution, and we will have the honor of witnessing the birth of a second Sword Saint,” said Friedrich with a smile.

Coming from the Sasan Emperor, these words of praise carried significant weight. Victor waved his hand, a faint smile on his lips. “It was only what I should do… and I am not my ancestor Draven. I have my own Path.”

Hearing this, Tournans was overcome with an unbearable itch of curiosity. He rubbed the back of his shiny head, put on his priest-like airs for a moment, then decided that his Legendary Sacred Warrior persona was more suitable for discussing the mysteries of power with Victor. “Victor,” he began, “can you show us the level of your power?”

“The gold-haired, gold-eyed form… I have temporarily forgotten it.”

Victor had no intention of revealing his true strength in front of the three Highnesses. His dark gold, iridescent eyes turned a pure, brilliant gold, shimmering like light through mist and rainbows. His voice carried a lofty indifference as he said, “I have mastered the mysteries of both earth and wind.”

Tournans’s eyes went wide, his jaw slack. Testier and Friedrich also made no attempt to hide their astonishment and admiration.

In their elemental perception, Victor’s Spirit had surged to the absolute peak of the Legendary rank, as brilliant as the noonday sun, eclipsing all other light. He commanded the external wind element and his internal water element, then split his Legendary-rank water element power into earth, wind, and water, each at the level of a Gold Knight.

Although Victor lacked the ability of Semi-elementalization, his power transformations were all at the Gold Knight standard. It was as if a Legendary Gale Knight had also mastered the fundamental abilities of a Tide Knight and an Earth Knight.

Tournans’s perception was different. The power Victor displayed was similar to Sylvia’s, yet distinctly different.

Sylvia’s power circulated perfectly, leaving no openings, and could be stacked. However, she was limited to using power at the Gold rank. If she were to mobilize void elements at the Legendary rank, the Elemental Sea would affect her body and mind, making it difficult to readjust.

Victor, on the other hand, faced no such restrictions when using his Legendary-rank wind element. His own power was unpredictable and elusive. Although he couldn’t stack his powers—a clear flaw and a weakness—that very flaw could be a death trap.

The Sasan Emperor’s earlier compliments no longer seemed like mere flattery.

Grand Commander Testier clapped his hands and laughed. “With Your Highness here, I am a hundred times more confident in our ability to slay the Gold Centaur and rout the Centaur army.”

A cryptic smile touched Victor’s lips. His gleaming golden eyes turned to Testier as he asked in a calm tone, “Cousin Howard, I have a question for you.”

“Please speak freely, Cousin Victor,” Testier said, greatly pleased.

Victor’s gaze swept over each of the Highnesses. “Is there really a King of Beastmen?”

As soon as the words were spoken, the atmosphere at the table froze solid as ice.

Chapter 641: Direct

“Is there truly a King of Beastmen?”

This question was more terrifying than the truth itself.

Eleven months had passed since the Sidon Centaurs’ massive invasion of the East Pioneer Fief, since the main forces of the Sasan lords and the Radiant Knights were trapped on the Pioneer Fief defensive line, since Patriarch Flidis lit the red smoke beacons, and since the various kingdoms answered the call to war. All this time, the various powers had searched for traces of the King of Beastmen, both openly and in secret, but had never found a definitive answer.

A full-scale war mobilization required a vast amount of resources. The wealth accumulated by the lords had been more than halved, production and construction had slowed, and every family and every person was affected, whether they were Nobles or Commoners, subjects or freemen. But now, the reinforcements from the various kingdoms were in position, like arrows notched on a bowstring, ready to be loosed at any moment. At this point, whether the King of Beastmen existed or not was no longer important. Since they had already come all this way, they had to fight. In fact, if there was no King of Beastmen, it would be a good thing. The scale of the war and the military pressure would be much smaller. Everyone would simply be helping the Sasan Empire eliminate the Sidon Centaurs and expand the Empire’s territory. After the war, the kings could privately discuss compensation with the Sasan Empire.

In any case, the Church’s upper echelons could not be implicated. That would shake the Church’s credibility, jeopardize the collective defense system of the human kingdoms, and lead to catastrophic consequences.

Conflicts of interest between the human kingdoms were always constrained by the Church, keeping the scale of wars pitifully small. For example, the war between the Sasan Empire and the three southern kingdoms was more like a series of bandit raids. When Sasan cavalry attacked a Dodor village, they wouldn’t kill those who didn’t resist or who surrendered. They would only steal grain, farm tools, livestock, and all metal objects, destroy the fields and houses, and at most, abduct a few pretty young women. Their goal was to create refugees and famine, so that their green wheat could fetch a good price. When Dodor knights captured Sasan cavalry, they also tried their best not to take their lives or cause permanent injury. They would sentence them to hard labor and then extort a large ransom from the Sasan lords.

This mutual understanding was built upon the Church’s coordination system. Exchanging prisoners, collecting ransoms, and trading grain and minerals were all mediated by priests. Ultimately, the Church’s thousands of years of credibility maintained the basic Order in the human kingdoms, ensuring the lords did not fall into endless civil wars.

If the Church lost its credibility, who would establish and supervise a new order to prevent infighting among the human kingdoms?

After all, beastmen ate humans, and humans ate beastmen. There was no room for compromise between the two sides, only a brutal war of life and death. If the human kingdoms lost their central pillar, then everyone might as well wait to die!

Testier had to circulate his Aura to dispel the feeling of sharp needles on his back. The Gold-Eyed Earl’s gaze was as piercing as a sword, leaving him no room to retreat, flank, or prevaricate. He could only respond head-on.

Four hundred thousand Sidon Centaur warriors had launched a long-range raid, driving a million beastmen slaves to infiltrate the Sasan Empire’s territory, catching the Radiant Knights and Sasan lords off guard. For a crisis of this magnitude, it was by no means improper for Patriarch Flidis to light the red smoke beacons and summon aid from the various kingdoms.

However, the centaur army and the main Sasan forces were locked in a stalemate, and the centaurs had not penetrated deep into the empire’s heartland to slaughter its people. Furthermore, the fact that an army of less than a million centaurs required fertile lands larger than the Sasan Empire itself revealed just how terrible their logistical production capacity was. They were decent at guerrilla warfare, but they were absolutely incapable of fighting a full-scale war.

Testier was baffled by the centaurs’ foolish actions, and he still couldn’t find the King of Beastmen. Now, with a massive army gathered in the Giantstone Fortress war zone and hundreds of thousands of soldiers in the East Pioneer Fief war zone eager for a fight, the Sidon Centaurs were about to run out of food and supplies. It would be difficult for them to escape annihilation.

Once the crisis was resolved, all sorts of dissonant voices would emerge. Some would say this war was nothing but the centaurs committing suicide, that there was never a King of Beastmen, and that Grand Commander Testier had used the Church’s credibility to summon the armies of the kingdoms to expand the Sasan Empire’s territory.

As for the urgency and correctness of Flidis lighting the red smoke beacons, who would care?

It was highly likely that such voices would come from within the Church itself. Success and crisis are two sides of the same coin, and the Church’s power structure needed a new balance to cope with the immense impact of Testier’s extraordinary military achievements.

Testier was already prepared to be questioned and had made corresponding arrangements in advance. But he never imagined that before the war was even won, the Gold-Eyed Earl would be the first to challenge him.

No one wanted to shake the Church’s credibility, but the question raised by the Gold-Eyed Earl could be seen as representing all the secular lords outside of the Sasan Empire and the Kingdom of Naville. Sasan and Naville were the beneficiaries of the war, while the other kingdoms had suffered significant losses.

Since the Church’s credibility could not be shaken, someone within the Church had to bear the corresponding political consequences to quell the external disputes.

In a political game, there is no right or wrong, only strength and weakness, advantages and disadvantages. Anyone who questioned Grand Commander Testier would also have to bear the political consequences. If a common lord dared to jump out and question Testier, the only political consequence would be imprisonment in the Inquisition until death, and Testier himself would be completely unaffected.

His cousin Victor was relentless, and Testier felt he was in trouble.

Could a king’s question be the same as a commoner’s?

At this point, discussing the existence of the King of Beastmen was meaningless. Testier had reason to believe that the Gold-Eyed Earl had his own interests concerning the Radiant Knights and was deliberately using this sensitive issue to threaten him and gain bargaining chips for negotiations.

Earl Randall and the Queen of Roses were in lockstep. Judging from their past governance, they had long harbored ambitions for pioneering the Southern Continent. What they wanted was nothing more than the strong support of the Church.

Developing the Southern Continent to expand the strategic depth of the human kingdoms was not unimportant. But for the Radiant Knights, the time was not yet ripe to divide their forces and attend to both the north and the south. With the Sasan Empire’s territory about to double, the issue between Baselius and Frederick would also surface. Without the full support of the Radiant Knights, the northern empire could potentially split in two, with the Iron Mountain Fief being strong and Sasan being weak.

Testier, Frederick, Flidis, and Baselius were all trying their best to prevent an immediate political schism in the Sasan Empire, but the calls from below were not so easily suppressed. If the Radiant Knights and the Temple Army were to divert forces to the south, it would send an unusual political signal to the titled nobles of the Sasan Empire. They would inevitably push for the powerful Baselius to become their new leader.

However, when the Ant-man tide swept through the Centaur Hills, the Radiant Knights had ignored the York family’s pleas for help, which had already offended the Queen of Roses. Back then, the York family was embroiled in internal strife with Auguste, and Sylvia’s political power was weak. Now, she and the Gold-Eyed Earl had completed their consolidation of the Gambis Kingdom, and the political influence of the Spirit Knights and Sun Elves could be projected outward. It wouldn’t be so easy for Testier to fool the Gold-Eyed Earl now.

If Testier mishandled his response to the Gold-Eyed Earl’s challenge, he could very well be knocked off the throne of the number one Paladin family. For that reason alone, there might be people within the Radiant Knights who would seize the opportunity to fan the flames.

A whirlwind of thoughts rushed through Testier’s mind, and a glint flickered in his ice-blue eyes. Tournans had no idea what was happening, but seeing Howard’s expression, he understood he’d stumbled into something serious.

Secretly excited, Tournans looked down with an air of profound detachment, assuming an inscrutable expression, as if he knew everything but chose to remain silent.

The Legendary Sacred Warrior stood there, feigning understanding while being completely baffled, and for a moment, the atmosphere in the room grew even heavier.

The Sasan Emperor, under the least pressure, broke the strange silence. “Your Highness,” he asked, “I heard that you had a conversation with a Bear-monster Elder in the Giantwood Forest?”

A flash of insight crossed Testier’s mind. Randall is renowned for his extraordinary wisdom. Given his high status and immense influence, his aggressive behavior today seems rather out of character. His strangeness began after he left the Giantwood Forest. Could it be that he discovered a serious problem during his conversation with the Bear-monster Elder? The Sidon Centaurs’ behavior is also unusual… Could this be a harbinger of some unknown disaster?

“Cousin Victor, did that Bear-monster Elder awaken its ancient memories?” Testier smiled calmly, but his eyes burned with intensity.

The Testier family was undoubtedly the most powerful family of the current era, bar none. Paladins, who wielded divine arts, were inherently stronger than Knights. The Testier family’s three Gold Paladins each possessed combat power on par with the Legendary rank, and they were all powerful Stormwind Paladins.

Victor did not fear such a family, but there was no need to offend them with a hardline stance.

In fact, since the time of Alijie Testier, the Paladins of the Testier family had always stood on the front lines against the beastmen and had never made any major mistakes. Victor held them in high esteem.

However, Victor had been attacked by Wizards twice—or perhaps three times. There was also the shadow of Wizards in his conflict with Austin Briart. The Shadow Knight had revealed the existence of The Shadow Council to Victor. Whatever his motives, the attacks Victor had suffered were inextricably linked to The Shadow Council.

Looking deeper, Victor’s soul was bound to the Alchemy Tower. As the successor to the Alchemical Empire, he was already caught in a vortex of conflict between mysterious existences, with no way to escape. The Shadow Council was a legacy of the Council of the Chosen, which could be traced back to the Mages’ Association of the Alchemical Empire. They had a motive to attack Victor to seize the Alchemy Tower.

However, the Wizard attack on the little Baron—which had extinguished his Soul Fire and shattered his Will Side—was the very cause of Victor’s birth and the Activation of the Alchemy Tower. This was enough to show that the attackers, suspected to be Wizards from The Shadow Council, had unwittingly become pawns of a mysterious existence.

Sylvia had told Victor very clearly that if Devils or evil gods dared to descend into the material world, they would have to obey the world’s Laws, transform their life forms, and become killable. This meant that the methods used by mysterious existences must ultimately manifest in a physical form. For instance, they had incited the Chosen to perform a Blood Sacrifice, triggering the bloody battle between the Pantheon and the Mage Council; or, for another example, the Archwizard siblings, Claire and Cyr, had severely wounded the Church’s clergy, causing the papal line to lose power.

As long as the means were confined to the Taelon World, they could be defeated, but they would leave irreversible historical consequences.

Was the centaur raid on the East Pioneer Fief the result of a mysterious existence’s guidance from the shadows?

The Bear-monster Elder’s mention of “primordial beings” and the “Eternal War” was particularly alarming. These two pieces of information pointed to a terrifying possibility:

The Ancient Behemoths had slaughtered each other to seize each other’s power, seeking eternal life. What had the victors become? Were they now coveting the souls of primordial humans—the direct descendants of Taelon Ruier?

Wasn’t the Chosen’s Blood Sacrifice a ritual that used human souls to appease Devils, which ultimately activated the supreme creation of the ancient Alchemists, the Lord of Radiance?

An unbreakable link existed between Wizards and Devils. Trigovar had restrained the Wizards, but he had also provided fertile ground for The Shadow Council to survive. And Testier was Trigovar’s backer.

With his life on the line, Victor no longer needed to consider political repercussions, nor did he need to consider Howard’s feelings. Right now, he was only worried that this war would evolve in an unpredictable direction.

“What the Bear-monster Elder told me, I will discuss with the high council of the Church at the appropriate time,” Victor said calmly, retracting his spiritual power as his eyes returned to normal.

An Archbishop must have shrewdness. I, too, am on the Church’s high council… Tournans silently reminded himself, then glanced at the Sasan Emperor.

This fellow isn’t part of the high council. Because of him, I can’t hear Victor recount the ancient secrets of the bear-monsters right now.

“I just want to know, if there is no King of Beastmen, why would the centaurs suddenly unite?” Victor looked around the room and said slowly, “Centaurs are skilled warriors with unparalleled mobility, the most difficult beastman race to tame. Even if they couldn’t defeat a King of Beastmen, couldn’t they just run away? Even if there truly was a great army of the Beastman King to the east of the Westdon Khanate, the centaurs wouldn’t have submitted to him so quickly.”

“Have you considered that there might be a Centaur Great Khan among them?”

Tournans, his eyes half-closed, grunted in agreement through his nose.

Howard ignored the bald man’s deep pretense and stated directly, “We considered it, and we’ve scouted for it. We’ve used every method available and have not discovered a Centaur Great Khan. Cousin Victor, you must trust Tournans’s psychic intuition. My own scouting yielded no results, and Tournans likewise cannot perceive the presence of a Legendary centaur.”

He paused before adding, “Even if a new Great Khan had appeared among the centaurs, they would not have been able to unite so quickly. Orogar couldn’t do it, and a new Centaur Great Khan would be even less likely to succeed.”

“Back when we killed the great centaur Orogar, we made camp in a valley for the night. Tournans suddenly sensed a certain danger. We retreated overnight and traveled for one thousand kilometers before Tournans’s danger sense faded. The location of that valley was very close to the eastern part of the Westdon Khanate. From this, we deduced that the centaurs’ neighbor to the east is a Legendary beastman no weaker than Orogar. It is highly likely to be the King of Beastmen.”

Frederick interjected, “Your Highness Randell, the forces at Giantstone Fortress are currently searching eastward for traces of the Beastman King, but so far they have found nothing… However, Legendary beastmen don’t appear one after another. With Orogar just recently dead, a new great centaur wouldn’t appear so quickly among the Sidon Centaurs.”

“Your Majesty, what do you think a Legendary beastman is?” Victor asked faintly.

In a sense, Legendary beastmen could be considered incarnations of Ancient Behemoths. That they controlled a portion of the Ancient Behemoths’ power was a minor matter; what Victor feared was an entanglement of the Force of Destiny. Humans had the Great Divination, but would the Ancient Behemoths, now transformed into pan-conscious deities, sit by and watch as the Force of Destiny turned against their descendants?

Victor had no intention of explaining further. He stood up and said, “Cousin Howard has scouted the centaur army, as has Tournans. I’m sure His Majesty Frederick has exhausted every means at his disposal… But since I am here, I will scout them myself!”

He pulled a purple-gold insignia engraved with a stag sigil from his belt pouch, tossed it on the table, and said, “This is the family token of trust that His Majesty Friedrich gave to me. Until I reach a clear conclusion, the main reinforcements from Gambis and Dodor will not attack the centaur’s main camp.”

Testier nodded and said, “This concerns the success or failure of the war; it is only right to be cautious. Once you have reached a conclusion, Cousin Victor, the armies of Gambis and Dodor must follow my orders. I swear in the name of the Supreme Lord that I will never place our allies in a disadvantageous position.”

Victor nodded. “As long as we win this war, I will never mention the matter of the King of Beastmen again.”

Emperor Frederick stood up and said, “I will take responsibility for interrogating the centaur prisoners Your Highness Randell brought back. Your Highness may observe.”

He had all but admitted that he had Wizards under his command who understood the language of beasts.

Victor was not surprised. He smiled and said, “Next time. After Tournans and I capture a few more formidable ones.”

The bald Sacred Warrior neither nodded nor shook his head, simply letting out a shrewd “hmm.”

Chapter 642: Manipulation

The Shadow Council, Hall of Dreams.

“Why did the Gold-Eyed Earl refuse our offer of cooperation? Why did he attack you?”

The Keeper of Secrets, the Council President, sat high on his throne in the form of a young boy. His tone was level, but the entire hall warped and rippled with his confusion and rage, seeming on the verge of collapse.

“Ma… ster… please… calm… your… anger.”

The Shadow Knight knelt on one knee before the throne, his body flickering in and out of existence, his voice intermittent.

The Council President controlled his emotions, stabilizing the Hall of Dreams spell. After a moment, the ripples gradually subsided, and the hall grew calm. The Shadow Knight began to speak.

“Master, you once said that a certain Councilor of the Shadow Council, tempted by a Whisperer, dispatched his proteges to assassinate nobles with Moon Elf bloodlines. His most capable subordinate, Soul-Shatterer, died in Black Fortress Town, at the exact time the Gold-Eyed Earl was traveling to the Centaur Hills to take up his post as a Baron. Afterward, that Councilor was captured and executed by the Council. His other protege, the Corruptor, along with Councilor Beast King, was ordered to assassinate Baron Victor Wimbledon. The assassination failed, and those two Wizards have not been heard from since.”

The Council President gripped the armrest of his throne and mused, “Yes, that idiot Councilor assassinated Moon Elf nobles without the Council’s knowledge at the time. Soul-Shatterer’s talent for Wizardry was extremely dangerous; the fact that he suffered a wizardry backlash doesn’t prove there’s anything special about Victor Wimbledon. The Council’s second attempt to assassinate Baron Wimbledon was my mistake. The Gold-Eyed Earl was just a small fry back then. Neither I nor the Messenger ever imagined he would become a noble Sun Elf.”

“The King of Dodor was the mastermind behind the plot against the Gold-Eyed Earl, but what of it? Aren’t they maintaining a cooperative relationship now? Randall is an outstanding statesman and a powerful extraordinary. His mind should not be shackled by hatred, nor his vision so shortsighted!”

“I told you to reveal your identity to him, to be candid about everything. How exactly did you handle the negotiations?” the Council President demanded in a loud voice.

The Shadow Knight lowered his head. “The King of Dodor was the mastermind behind the plot against the Gold-Eyed Earl, but he failed to harm Randall. Instead, he lost a duke and an earl.”

“We failed to harm the Gold-Eyed Earl either, and we lost three powerful Wizards!”

“Master, it’s not the same. In the eyes of a great lord, even the strongest Wizards are just rats in a sewer. But the Dodor Kingdom lost a royal duke and an earl from House Ludwig. Hundreds more died because of it, many of them nobles and Knights.”

The Council President fell silent. After a while, he said, “To the Gold-Eyed Earl, what difference is there between a few hundred people dying and a few wizards dying? None of this should be able to sway his will or change his mind. Is he really ruled by compassion like a common man? Even if he weren’t a High-ranked Knight, I would trust his reason and wisdom to make the most advantageous choice.”

The Shadow Knight pondered for a moment, then looked up. “Master, there are records in the ancient, damaged texts collected by the Holy Light Monastery that refer to the Sun Elves as the Sons of God.”

“What do you mean?” The Council President’s interest was piqued, and he pressed for more.

“Master, the one who tried to murder Victor Wimbledon was not a Wizard, but a Whisperer. And its target was not Victor Wimbledon, but the Son of God. The Whisperer acted through the hands of a Shadow Councilor, intending to kill all nobles with Moon Elf bloodlines in this era.”

“The Shadow Council was unwittingly drawn into a struggle between some Whisperer and the Sun God Frey.”

The Council President spoke with a mixture of indignation and helplessness. “I told you that Councilor was a complete fool!”

“Master, Victor Wimbledon has awakened his Sun Elf bloodline. He may have recovered some of the ancient memories of a Son of God. He sees the Shadow Council’s Wizards as the claws of that Whisperer and wants nothing more than to slaughter every Shadow Wizard. Because of this identity issue, it is already impossible for us and the Gold-Eyed Earl to reach any consensus.”

“You are not a Wizard, you are a Knight. As long as you revealed your identity as a Gold Knight, why would the Gold-Eyed Earl attack you?” the Council President demanded, his gaze severe. “Did you follow my instructions and reveal your true identity to the Gold-Eyed Earl?”

The Shadow Knight was silent for a moment before replying in a low voice, “Master, the Giantwood Forest is the wilderness. I could not trust the Gold-Eyed Earl; I had to maintain the utmost caution. In truth, the moment the Gold-Eyed Earl saw me, he attacked immediately, giving me no chance to speak. Fortunately, I was fully prepared and managed to escape him. Even so, I sacrificed an arm.”

The Council President’s expression changed in horror. “Even at full alert, you were no match for him?” he said in disbelief. “The Gold-Eyed Earl is that powerful?”

The Shadow Knight explained, “Master, a battle between myself and the Gold-Eyed Earl is not like a contest of Wizardry. Life and death hang by a thread; it’s hard to say who is stronger or weaker. The Gold-Eyed Earl has already mastered some of the secrets of the Elemental Sea of Wind, and his speed is unbelievable. To have escaped his surprise attack with only the loss of an arm is something to be proud of.”

The Council President thought for a moment, then sighed deeply and shook his head. “Since the identity of a Shadow Priest is useless for communicating with the Gold-Eyed Earl, our only choice is to take a risk and go to the Centaur Hills to speak with the Queen of Roses. We’ll have her persuade her spouse.”

The Shadow Knight said respectfully, “Master, I must remind you that for a thousand years, the line of Keepers of Secrets has never communicated directly with outsiders.”

“I know. I won’t appear personally… and I won’t have you go find the Queen of Roses either.” The Keeper of Secrets nodded, his small, youthful fingers tapping on the armrest of the throne. “The Shadow Bishop is at Giantstone Fortress, being watched by Trigovar. He won’t be able to get away for a while. Once the war is over, I will have him send an owl puppet to the Centaur Hills to talk with the Queen of Roses.”

He paused, a bitter smile gracing his young face as he continued, “I used the effects of the Great Divination to trick the Centaurs into seeking their own doom. We are the greatest contributors to the allied forces of the kingdoms and the Church winning the beastman war and pioneering new lands… I originally intended to share this credit with Earl Randall, but unfortunately, he missed his chance.”

“I will cause the Centaur army to splinter and guide the Legendary Centaur to the northern tundra. Slaying this Centaur Great Khan is both merit and prestige, as well as Divine Favor. Our groundwork can’t just benefit the Radiant Knights for nothing. You’ve always been responsible for external communications. Tell me, apart from the two great Paladin families, Testier and Trigovar, which of the other four Paladin families would be willing to cooperate with Nachtigal to seize this merit and Divine Favor, and pull Testier and Trigovar from their thrones as the first and second Paladin families?”

The Shadow Knight spoke with sincerity. “Honored Master, forgive my frankness. The northern tundra controlled by the Moon Bear family is cold, vast, and sparsely populated. If the Legendary Centaur enters the northern tundra, the damage it causes the Sasan Empire will be extremely limited, and the merit for slaying it will be greatly diminished. In truth, a Legendary Centaur without its subordinates is like a saber-toothed beast without its claws. Even if it broke through to the eastern heartland of the Sasan Empire, it would not escape death. You would be better off luring it into the Sasan heartland to create panic. The merit and Divine Favor for killing it would only be greater. Only this would be enough to attract a Paladin family to cooperate with us.”

The Council President glanced at the Shadow Knight, who was kneeling respectfully on the ground, and said coldly, “We are human. Your suggestion goes too far.”

The Shadow Knight gave a bitter smile. “Master, you went to great lengths to halt the Centaur army at the front lines of the East Pioneer Fief. Without your clever control, the Centaurs would have already charged into the Sasan Empire. You may adhere to the teachings of the Lord of Radiance, but the Paladin families may not. They are more like Knight-Nobles than clergy. Without sufficient benefit and absolute certainty, no Paladin family will choose to betray Testier.”

“That is the first reason. I have a second.”

“The northern tundra is vast and sparsely populated, which means it will be extremely difficult for human armies to track and intercept the Legendary Centaur there. Only the three Stormwind Paladins of the Testier family and the Gold-Eyed Earl have the absolute certainty to hold up the Legendary Centaur in the wastelands and guide the powerhouses of the human kingdoms to encircle and kill it.”

“Our original plan was to have the Shadow Bishop lure the three Highnesses of House Testier and Tournans to the east of the Westdon Khanate, then secretly inform the Gold-Eyed Earl and ask him to remain in the East Pioneer Fief war zone. When the Legendary Centaur charged into the northern tundra, the Gold-Eyed Earl, along with the elites of the Baselius family and the First Paladin, would kill the Legendary Centaur.”

“Now, with the Gold-Eyed Earl being uncooperative, we can only watch as he follows Testier and Tournans east. It wouldn’t be difficult for the First Paladin, working with the two Highnesses of the Baselius family, to kill the Legendary Centaur. But if the chase in the northern tundra drags on for too long, Testier and the Gold-Eyed Earl will have time to return, and our scheme will be a complete failure.”

“Furthermore, the Church has an ironclad rule: the Lightguard protects the central authority of the Holy See and cannot be mobilized lightly. To dispatch the First Paladin to the Sasan Empire to hunt down the Centaur, a papal decree is required. The Golden Horn is in the hands of the Testier family. Without the Golden Horn’s seal, no papal decree can leave the Radiant Holy Mountain. The Gold-Eyed Earl, in concert with the two Highnesses of Baselius, could pressure Flidis to mobilize the Lightguard to help the Baselius family surround and kill the Legendary Centaur. But with the Gold-Eyed Earl not participating in our plan, the influence of the Baselius family is insufficient. If the Legendary Centaur flees into the northern tundra, Flidis would rather delay the problem until the Gold-Eyed Earl, Testier, and Tournans return from the east. I fear he will not mobilize the Lightguard.”

The Shadow Priests’ main target for cooperation was the Nachtigal family. It didn’t matter if the Gold-Eyed Earl didn’t participate in the hunt for the Centaur Great Khan, but if the Lightguard couldn’t leave the Theocracy of Ayr, the Council President’s scheme would be a complete failure.

Even though he was a Legendary-level spellcaster, his ability to “create” and “lure” the Legendary Centaur, even deceiving the Ferocious warrior’s mental Perception of it, relied entirely on the lingering power of the Church’s last Great Divination.

Without the Church’s Great Divination, the Council President could never have achieved such a feat. This was a one-time opportunity; if missed, it would be gone forever.

The Council President appeared hesitant. The Shadow Knight pressed further, “Master, a Legendary Centaur entering the densely populated Sasan heartland will cause some civilian casualties, but the dead will only be a very small number of fools. Anyone with a brain will flee or hide in a sturdy castle or fortress. With countless eyes watching, the Legendary Centaur will have nowhere to hide no matter how fast it runs. The lords and priests everywhere can organize the populace to evacuate in advance and can also report the Centaur’s movements up the chain of command. The matter will be resolved quickly.”

The Council President finally made up his mind. He nodded and said, “Very well. The Centaurs are running low on food. Their Goblin leaders are awaiting the ‘Earth Mother’s’ guidance. I will tell them what to do. You are to inform the Wizard Luke and have him contact Baselius. As long as Baselius accepts our proposal, I will use the name of the ‘Earth Mother’ to lure the Legendary Centaur deep into the Sasan heartland alone.”

“As you wish, my Master.”

The meeting ended. The Shadow Knight detached himself from the dreamlike Hall of Dreams and opened his eyes. He saw the cheap table and chairs of a room in the Wildfox Inn. A well-dressed middle-aged man was slumped face down on the table, no longer breathing.

This was Luke, the Wizard, the Shadow Council’s liaison to the Baselius family.

The Shadow Knight rose from the bedside, walked to the table, and stopped. Extending his unharmed left hand, he took several Gold Sols from his pocket. A brownish-yellow void earth element materialized in his palm, and he molded the coins into a sigil depicting a Cyclops. An invisible force field manipulated the corpse’s hand, closing it around the sigil. Having done all this, the Shadow Knight pulled up his hood to hide his face and left the Wildfox Inn alone.

Half an hour later, three men dressed as inn waiters burst into the room and saw Luke collapsed on the table. They did not move the body, but after a quick, hidden exchange of hand signals, they backed out of the room. Two men stood guard at the door while the third went down to the first floor. He whispered a few words to the innkeeper, who was also the bartender, and slipped into the back kitchen.

Soon after, acrid smoke billowed from the Wildfox Inn’s kitchen, sending guests and patrons into a panicked frenzy as they rushed out of their rooms along with a disheveled waitress. The innkeeper apologized profusely, cursing as he led his staff into the kitchen to put out the fire. The fire was extinguished, but the smoke only grew thicker, making even the main hall uninhabitable. The innkeeper, looking miserable, refunded the guests’ money and produced another sum to send away the magistrate’s guard who had come to investigate.

The magistrate’s guard berated the owner before dispersing the crowd of gawkers who were enjoying the spectacle. The Wildfox Inn, which had never done much business anyway, had no choice but to close its doors for the day to prevent anyone from taking the opportunity to sneak in and steal something.

The fire in the Wildfox Inn’s kitchen was just a minor incident in the town. But half a day later, this minor incident appeared in the form of a detailed report on Duke Baselius’s desk, sparking a discussion between two very important figures.

“Luke is dead. He was our liaison with the Shadow Bishop. Who killed him? Why?” Uther muttered to himself, his brow furrowed.

Auroxia toyed with the sigil kneaded from gold coins. “There are no traces of forging or melting,” she said lightly. “The void earth element Cyclops sigil is strikingly lifelike. Could you do something like this?”

“I could,” Uther nodded, continuing, “The Gold Knights who can control the void earth element with such precision are few and far between. I am one. Sylvia, Nachtigal, Neo Wester, Emperor Friedrich, the Gold-Sparrow Duke, and the Earth-attuned Gold Paladins… and of course, the Cyclops family itself—Trigovar.”

Auroxia’s voice was soft as she chuckled. “Trigovar was one of the main culprits behind the decline of the Iron Mountain Empire. I suppose you could call it a thousand-year feud between us?”

Uther laughed. “At the very least, the Shadow Priests believe we have a thousand-year feud with Trigovar. That’s why they came to us first, instead of our cousin Victor.”

“Frodo arrived at the Wildfox Inn immediately and used Wizardry to trace the past but found no information. This means the killer’s Spirit is on a much higher level than his. Could it be the same person who attacked our cousin Victor in the Giantwood Forest?” Uther asked.

“Any Silver Knight has greater spiritual power than Frodo. But to threaten our cousin Victor… forget a Silver Knight, not even Nachtigal would have a chance. He would only be hunted to his death by our cousin, with a minuscule chance of escape.” Auroxia shook her head. “The Church tracks the whereabouts of every Highness, which can be checked at the cathedral. And a Gold Knight wouldn’t need to kill Luke personally. A slightly more powerful secret art death commando could have easily killed him and then placed a pre-made sigil in his hand.”

“So is this someone framing Trigovar, or a warning from Trigovar?” Uther asked again.

“It’s not important.”

Auroxia’s slender, fair hands tightened slightly, crushing the golden sigil into a lump. “The Shadow Priests are kept by Trigovar. They have their own ideas, but Trigovar never taught them what a great noble is. Thus, their ideas are naive and ridiculous. They are not worthy of cooperating with us.”

“Now, the one secretly manipulating the Shadow Priests has appeared. Regardless of whether it’s Trigovar or not, they are telling us that they have the right to negotiate with us.”

“Let’s wait. Wait for them to show themselves, or to be unable to show themselves ever again!”

Chapter 643: Letting the Horse Return to Camp

In the Season of Wind, the Northern Wildlands should be a place of clear skies and high clouds, where the monsoon winds howl and the green wheat rolls like an ocean tide. What Victor saw was a barren wilderness, an endless sea of beast-hide tents, and countless centaurs galloping, playing, and chasing one another across the dark red earth.

The sight of over two hundred thousand centaurs and an equal number of Goblins gathered in one place did not strike Victor with a sense of visual shock. It was like seeing a massive city for the first time; one might feel curiosity and awe, but rarely shock, for it is impossible to take in the city’s entirety at a glance.

Victor could spot a rabbit fifty kilometers away; his vision was better than that of a green-eyed eagle. But the centaur encampment stretched for over a hundred kilometers, growing denser toward the center, far beyond the limits of his sight, let alone his hearing.

This filled him with a profound sense of powerlessness.

Hundreds of thousands of beastmen were gathered in an area of over a thousand square kilometers, which meant hundreds of thousands of pairs of eyes, ears, and noses, and hundreds of thousands of mouths. Day or night, it would be impossible for Victor to slip into the core of the centaur camp to scout their leaders unless he could disguise himself as a centaur.

This level of difficulty was beyond his capabilities.

“Howard seems smart, but he’s actually an idiot. He tried to hunt and kill a Gold-rank Centaur Chiliarch and ended up getting chased like a rabbit by a huge mob of centaurs. He even lost four outposts and a barracks. The Supreme Lord protects us, for we eventually took them back and killed a good number of centaurs.”

Tournans, wearing a non-reflective leather helmet, lay behind a thicket, speaking to Victor, who seemed to show no signs of life.

He knew Victor could hear him, just that he couldn’t speak. As for this method of concealing one’s presence, Tournans had mastered it long ago.

Ever since his Touch of the Mind had reached a profound level, Tournans no longer needed to remain perfectly still to hide his presence; even normal, low-key movements could deceive an enemy’s Perception.

Victor could only look on with envy.

Perception and Concealment were the most crucial abilities for an extraordinary warrior, whether they were a ranged archer or a melee combatant. Victor had a deep understanding of three types of extraordinary perception: the elemental perception of an Extraordinary Knight, the psychic intuition of a Ferocious human, and the manifest perception of the laws of reality.

Elemental perception was rooted in the Elemental Sea, perceiving all elemental states. No change on the material or spiritual plane could escape its notice. Victor’s Life Concealment could also be tracked by elemental perception; it was just that he was like a dead object, making it difficult to attract the attention of a High-ranked Knight. If Sylvia wanted to find Victor, she could pinpoint him with ease. She could even perceive the past, present, and future—albeit for only a few brief seconds—transcending the limits of time and space.

Psychic intuition was specialized in perceiving mental activity directed at oneself. Take Tournans, for instance. His spiritual power roamed the mental plane, and as soon as any creature’s mind produced a thought about him or something he cared about, he could sense its presence. He could even perceive undifferentiated malice, such as a wild beast’s territorial instinct; simply entering its territory was enough for him to sense it.

The so-called manifest perception was, in essence, sight, taste, smell, hearing, and touch. Different creatures manifested these senses in different ways—some with thermal imaging, some with vibration sense, some with motion detection. The world as seen by an insect was completely different from the world in human eyes, but the fundamentals remained the same: the forms of manifest perception never strayed from the five senses.

The theories Victor had pioneered could explain the mysteries of these three types of perception. Everything in the world Taelon Ruier created originated from a single source—the Elemental Sea. The world’s billions of living beings were all avatars of the Creator, their minds originating from the same great soul—the soul of Taelon Ruier.

All things shared a single origin, hence the elemental perception of High-ranked Knights; the minds of all beings were fundamentally connected, hence the psychic intuition of ferocious creatures. If the three laws of perception were compared to a world tree, then the elemental perception of a High-ranked Knight would be its roots, the psychic intuition of a Ferocious warrior its trunk, and manifest perception its vibrant, multifaceted crown of a thousand flowers and leaves.

Compared to the sophisticated grandeur of elemental and psychic perception, manifest perception seemed of a lower class. However, human ability had its limits. Even Sylvia’s spiritual power was perhaps less than one hundred-millionth of that of the world’s origin, Taelon Ruier. The range and depth of her perception had their own limits.

The perception of High Elves represented the pinnacle of manifest perception. Their extraordinary sight, extraordinary hearing, Blind Sense, and Wind Whisper worked in concert, allowing them to observe the minute at close range and see for over a hundred kilometers. One could say that manifest perception was the true direction of the world’s evolving laws.

For every spear, there is a shield. Perception methods and concealment techniques were intimately related, but whether it was the elemental resonance of a Gold Knight, Tournans’s mental distortion, or the Jungle Sanctuary of a Bear-monster Elder, they were all forms of concealment via mental neglect, causing an enemy to see you as if you weren’t there.

However, Victor’s X-3, combined with his extraordinary perception, could use methods like comparison, completion, calculation, and absolute rationality to become immune to this mental neglect, allowing him to perceive the vast majority of hidden targets.

Given Victor’s current level of life and wisdom, his perspective was fundamentally different from that of an ordinary person. In the eyes of a common man, there were many centaurs here, a great many, but if a scout was fast enough and stealthy enough to detect the enemy in advance, they might have a chance to infiltrate the core of the centaur camp.

Well, that was generally how movies on Earth portrayed it.

In Victor’s eyes, the centaur encampment was a single entity. It was a descendant of Mother Earth, with ten thousand ears and ten thousand eyes, flexible in its gathering and scattering, its collective mind vast as the sea. In this region, it was omniscient and omnipresent, possessing a portion of the might of an Ancestral God. No single powerful individual was a match for it. Testier was not, and neither was Victor.

As a Gold-rank Stormwind Paladin, Testier’s speed was unparalleled, and his ranged attacks were devastating. In theory, he could slowly kill every last centaur. In reality, such a thing was absolutely impossible.

Victor could imagine what Testier had encountered. He had led an elite force to hunt centaurs, causing the centaur army to contract inward. The distance between the centaur camp and the human castle was stretched, giving the Savage Centaurs enough time to catch up to the human elites before they could flee back to the castle. Testier was forced to act alone, but Gold-rank Centaur Chiliarchs would lead their countless subordinates to outflank him, attempting to encircle and kill the bothersome enemy. The Paladin could only break through toward the castle before the encirclement closed. Centaurs were not skilled at siege warfare, but they were not incapable of it. Having lost their target, they would vent their fury on the more weakly defended human outposts and barracks. By launching a full-scale assault on these positions, the centaurs, though suffering significant losses themselves, had established a kind of balance with the human allied forces. As long as Testier came to cause trouble again, they would take it out on the human outposts and barracks.

Testier couldn’t just drag Bright City’s main cavalry force out for field battles with the centaurs, could he?

Victor wouldn’t fare any better than Testier.

Although Testier’s hunting expeditions caused losses for both the human Legion and the centaur army, he had to do it for practical military and political reasons. He was not the idiot Tournans claimed he was.

Tournans was the foolish one.

“The stupid bear is back, and he’s brought a dumb horse with him,” the bald man said with a sudden chuckle.

Narsen, clad in less-provocative Dragon-Lizard leather armor, came sprinting from the side toward where Victor and Tournans were hiding. A group of screeching centaur warriors followed close behind him. A rain of javelins and heavy arrows flew toward Narsen’s back, only to fall short. The centaurs, known for their running prowess, found themselves unable to catch a two-legged human. Their eyes reddened as they gave chase with all their might. One of them, enormous and with knotted muscles, hurled a javelin that flew straight for Narsen. The weapon shrieked as it cut through the air, its power comparable to a Medium ballista from a human outpost.

Forget Dragon-Lizard leather armor; even if Narsen were wearing Adamantine plate, a direct hit from that javelin would leave him gravely wounded, if not dead. Victor and Tournans were too far away to help. As if he had eyes in the back of his head, Narsen sidestepped to dodge the powerful centaur javelin, his pace slowing for half a beat.

Even so, the centaur warriors still couldn’t catch Narsen. The Silver-rank Savage Centaur Commander snatched a javelin from a comrade and threw it again. Unfortunately, the quality of a common centaur warrior’s javelin was too poor; it was light and flimsy, losing its accuracy halfway through its flight. The centaur Commander let out a furious hiss, its muscles bulging as it pushed off with all four limbs, charging out from the group to chase Narsen alone.

Overcoming the instinct of fear is what separates intelligent races from wild beasts. It knew full well that the fleeing human was extremely dangerous, yet it left the cover of its companions, intent on chasing him down and killing him. In fact, without its ranged weapon, Narsen could have killed the Savage Centaur Commander with one hand tied behind his back.

Though he lacked the ability of Semi-elementalization, Narsen’s psychic intuition, combined with his fire of the mind, meant that even if he faced a Gold-rank Centaur Chiliarch alone, he would not be without a fighting chance.

Of course, that duel assumed a melee engagement. From that perspective, Narsen was still a little weaker; at the very least, the Savage Centaur Commander had a chance of killing him.

If Narsen had been Testier, the ones driving him away would surely have been several Gold-rank Centaurs accompanied by a troop of Savage Centaur warriors. In that case, Victor and Tournans would have had no choice but to pack up and leave.

The four-legged centaur Commander galloped at full speed, the distance to Narsen shrinking rapidly as it brandished its refined iron club with various flourishes. Its ugly face was contorted with excitement, but it had no idea that two great monsters were waiting ahead to take it home.

Victor rose from behind the bushes, his dark gold eyes staring coldly at the “dumb horse” Tournans had mentioned.

The ferocious centaur Commander’s eyes instantly bulged, nearly popping out of their sockets. It skidded to a halt, its hooves scraping the ground as it drifted, performing a comical-looking maneuver to turn its horse-rear around and bolt in the opposite direction. Its fleeing speed was actually a notch faster than when it had been chasing Narsen.

It seemed the fear of death was truly the greatest stimulus for one’s potential.

“Why didn’t you catch it?” Tournans asked, completely baffled.

“Let it go… We’ve already caught several, and the interrogations yielded nothing. If we keep this up, I’m afraid Narsen is going to die out here,” Victor said with an elegant smile.

Just then, Narsen ran up to them and asked loudly, “My lord, Tutor, are we letting it go?”

His once steel-sharp gaze had become calm and restrained, its edge gone. Tournans nodded and said, “Stupid bear, you’ve improved. Now you should quiet down and properly polish your mind.”

Over the past few days, Victor and Tournans had been “fishing” for Savage Centaurs, capturing three of them with Narsen acting as bait, a role that carried the greatest risk. If the fishing expedition were not dangerous, the Savage Centaurs would never take the bait. Every time he went out, he risked being killed by the centaurs, and all Victor could do was avenge him. Spurred by the terror of death, Narsen’s spirit grew sharper and his power of the mind strengthened, perfectly aligning with the training method of the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form—dancing on the edge of a knife, a hair’s breadth from death.

However, Narsen’s luck was bound to run out, and such intense mental stimulation could be addictive. Victor was worried that if they continued, Narsen would become unable to stop. He would end up as centaur rations before he could master the Touch of the Mind.

Moreover, Testier had caught even more centaurs than Victor had, yet Emperor Friedrich’s Beast-tongue Shamans had failed to extract any new intelligence. The stories from the centaur prisoners were all largely the same: a few of the Earth Mother’s chosen had appeared among the centaurs, and they were conveying the Earth Mother’s will, leading the centaurs to attack the human Pioneer Fiefs because humans were threatening the centaur homeland.

The Silver-rank centaur Commander Victor captured had revealed some more detailed intelligence. The chosen of the Earth Mother were a pair of centaurs from the Whitetail tribe, one male and one female. They had passed the Earth Mother’s trial by killing a monster that no other centaur could kill. Their Hobgoblin slave had become a shaman of the Earth Mother, revealing her guidance: send a group of monsters into human territory to keep them pestered so that the centaurs could secure their safety and more land.

Based on the current intelligence, the centaur alliance was not a result of oppression by the King of Beastmen, but rather the deceptions of two centaurs and a Hobgoblin charlatan. Testier had known this for some time. He kept it to himself, planning to beat them at their own game and solve the Sidon Centaur problem once and for all, clearing the way for the Empire’s eastern expansion.

Of course, this intelligence was not necessarily accurate. For one, neither Victor nor Testier had managed to capture a Gold-rank Centaur Chiliarch. For another, the Beast-tongue Shamans in Friedrich’s employ were of a completely different caliber than Imosen, at least a full rank below him.

Imosen’s Comprehend Languages pointed directly at the target’s mind. If he were to ask whether the “Chosen of the Earth Mother” were Legendary-rank great centaurs or the Great Khan of the Sidon Centaurs, he would know the answer as soon as the centaur prisoner spoke truthfully. The Sasan shaman’s communication with the centaurs was still stuck at the linguistic level. Just for the new term “Chosen of the Earth Mother,” he had to question the centaur prisoners for half a day before he could translate it into human language. The concept of a Legendary-rank level of life was a power classification of the human kingdoms; the centaurs had no such concept. As for whether the “Chosen of the Earth Mother” was the Centaur Great Khan, the prisoner gave a negative answer. It didn’t even acknowledge Orogar as the Great Khan of the Westdon Khanate.

That was about as far as the interrogations could go. The Beast-tongue Shaman’s skills were limited; there was nothing more to dig up. The question now was whether the Sidon Centaur army was truly led by the so-called “Chosen of the Earth Mother,” or if that Hobgoblin was using deception to enslave the centaurs.

Hobgoblins were a race capable of awakening bloodline memory. If they had mastered secret knowledge of the Earth Mother and the centaurs, it was possible they could, in turn, control their centaur masters.

Victor was certain of one thing: the allied army of the seven centaur tribes had to have a military leader. Whether it was the Goblin shaman or the “Chosen of the Earth Mother,” killing them couldn’t be wrong.

But accomplishing this through assassination by a powerful expert was next to impossible. Victor settled for the next best thing: first, to identify the characteristics of the centaur leader, and then to probe its operational plans.

Victor had modified the Moon Elf’s Wind Whisper talent into the deadly Nemesis talent, but its detection radius was only about ten kilometers. The centaur camp’s depth was at least seventy or eighty kilometers, and Victor didn’t even know where the leader’s tent was. But once a target’s characteristics were locked by Nemesis, even if it went beyond the talent’s effective range, Victor’s Tracking Intuition could still sense its general direction and distance.

A centaur Commander was a leader among its tribe, with the right to report dangerous situations to the chief. Victor had deliberately let it escape precisely so he could sense the general location of the supreme commander’s tent.

Next, it was time for the alchemical crows to demonstrate their talent for mimicry.

Chapter 644: A Change Spiraling Out of Control

In an animal-hide tent at the center of the centaur camp, Polta, the new chieftain of the Whitetail tribe, and his spouse Alita lay with their powerful limbs bent, nestled affectionately on an exquisitely crafted woolen blanket.

It was a war trophy plundered by goblin slaves from human territory—soft, comfortable, thick, and warm, countless times better than the grass mats woven by hobgoblins.

Alita, who was pregnant, was very fond of the blanket.

The young centaur chieftain was thrilled. This was the first foal he and Alita had conceived together. He was a Kweglo, and Alita was a Kweglo; their offspring would surely be blessed by the Earth Mother.

The Goblin shaman Hajin had said so himself. Although it was short, ugly, and a lowly green-skin, the centaurs all believed its prophecies.

Two years ago, Polta and Alita’s horns did not yet possess the yellowish-brown hue favored by the Earth Mother. The centaurs of other tribes refused to acknowledge them as “the steed carried by the earth,” and even the chiliarchs of the Whitetail tribe expressed doubt. It was Hajin who, in front of all the centaur chieftains, chiliarchs, and commanders, had awakened the Earth Mother. She had risen from the earth, raising a great avatar of soil, and speaking in an ancient tongue through Hajin’s mouth, She acknowledged Polta and Alita as Her favored descendants.

The Earth Mother’s avatar had existed for only a few breaths before turning back into soil and returning to the earth. From then on, the centaurs recognized the two young Whitetail centaurs as Kweglo, and their slave, Hajin, as a shaman of the Earth Mother.

“The great Earth Mother gave Hajin a revelation last night… The centaurs must go home, back east… Kweglo Polta go west, human lands, Earth Mother’s power awaits Polta… Take back power, Polta be Great Khan, Great Khan of centaurs.”

The goblin danced and gestured, using body language to supplement its broken centaur speech. It was draped in colorful human silks, with four exceptionally strong bugbear bodyguards standing behind it. It no longer looked timid and fearful as before, but was now even swaggering with arrogance.

“The Earth Mother gave Alita a revelation as well.”

The centaur Alita rose from the comfortable woolen blanket. Pacing with light steps, she walked over to the goblin shaman, reached out her left front foreleg to rest it on the hobgoblin’s shoulder, and said gently, “The Earth Mother told me to send Hajin into Her embrace, and then Alita will be the Earth Mother’s shaman.”

“…No… Ah.”

The goblin shaman managed only half a scream before an immense force crushed its small body, shattering its bones. Blood gushed out as if from a ruptured waterskin. The golden centaur trampled it directly into a meat patty, grinding it into the dirt floor of the tent.

“The Earth Mother buries all.”

The slow-witted bugbears finally reacted. Their eyes filled with a blood-red light, the solid muscles of their bodies bulged, and they opened their sharp-toothed maws, charging at the female centaur who had trampled their leader to death.

Polta leaped over, blocking his spouse’s path, and crushed the crazed bugbears one by one as if they were rats. Tossing aside the last bugbear’s corpse, he asked, a little confused and a little fearful, “Alita, why did you trample Hajin? Its prophecies have always been accurate… Great Earth Mother, did you truly reveal to you last night that you were to send Hajin into the embrace of the earth?”

“Only Hajin’s first prophecy was accurate—that we are the steed carried by the earth… It is useless now.”

Alita released her foreleg and touched her horns to Polta’s. Their horns were smooth and unadorned, glowing with a yellowish-brown halo in the dim tent. This was the mark that distinguished Kweglo centaurs from common ones.

Taking two steps back, the female centaur lay down languidly and wiped the bloodstains from her foreleg on the exquisite woolen blanket. “The earth endures all, buries all. She is silent. The Earth Mother would not instruct Hajin to bury my father-khan’s hobgoblin slave. Hajin was able to bury the former goblin leader in the Earth Mother’s name and take all of its spouses. It is capable of even worse things.”

Polta flicked his tail, returned to his spouse’s side, and lay down. “Hajin’s prophecies that the humans’ rear was empty, that we should stop here and let the slaves raid the human lairs—those were all accurate. I’m worried that the Earth Mother will be angered by you killing it.”

“I can feel the Earth Mother blessing our foal.”

A maternal glow suffused Alita’s delicate face as she spoke softly, “We must watch him grow, watch him gallop across the land, watch him rule the centaurs… Polta, it’s time for us to go home. Hajin wanted you to go to the human lands, but you would die on that soil. I trampled it to death because I was afraid I would never be able to run with you again, afraid our foal would lose its father-khan’s protection.”

Polta snorted dismissively. “The feeble humans cannot stop my hooves.”

“The feeble humans killed Orogar. Is your strength a match for the Black-hoof Khan’s now?” the female centaur asked, blinking her eyes.

Polta had only just mastered the Armor of the Earth talent and was still a ways off from the Black-hoof Khan, Orogar. He said, unconvinced, “When Orogar was running wild, I was still on my mother’s milk. But he did not have Kweglo horns. We are favored by the earth. My strength is still growing. As long as I pass one more trial and take back the power bestowed by the Earth Mother, I will be stronger than him. The centaurs will submit beneath my hooves.”

Alita smiled, chuckling softly. “The Earth Mother favors my spouse and my foal. The earth is vast and boundless; there is no need to go to the human lands in the west. A few sunsets ago, we sensed a strange, powerful enemy. It was prowling the perimeter of the camp, like a bone-chilling wind, ice-cold water, a scorching sun.”

“The earth endures all. I do not fear it!”

“Its companion killed the mighty Orogar,” Alita continued. “I suspect Hajin wanted to use the humans to bury my spouse.”

Polta asked in surprise, “Why would a lowly slave dare to bury me?”

“Goblins have no hooves and are as treacherous as humans. Centaurs enslave them, but we never trust goblins. Hajin might be a spy from the Goblin King to the east of our home. We worry about the humans in the west threatening our home, but the Goblin King to the east fears the hooves of the centaurs on his lands even more.”

“Hajin guided us to use slaves against the two-legged humans. We have lost too many slaves. After we return home, we will have to go east and capture the Goblin King’s subordinates to be our slaves.”

“The Goblin King fears my steed Polta. It had its spy Hajin trick my steed into going to the human’s lair, trying to get my Polta killed, to kill the father-khan of my foal.”

Polta said angrily, “Damned Hajin, damned spy! May the Earth Mother never let new shoots sprout from its flesh and bones!”

Alita looked at her magnificent spouse and said, “Let us return to our home and go east to capture slaves.”

“Alright!” Polta nodded. Seeing the bloody remains of the goblin, he hesitated. “The centaurs of the various tribes have not yet acknowledged me as the Great Khan. They believe Hajin is the Earth Mother’s shaman. Now that the spy Hajin is dead, will they listen to us?”

“The Earth Mother revealed to me that Hajin was a spy, and the Earth Mother has buried Hajin. I am the new shaman chosen by the Earth Mother. The khans and chiliarchs of the tribes will listen to me,” Alita said confidently.

Polta was overjoyed. “My Alita, can you summon the Earth Mother’s avatar of soil before the other centaurs?”

“No,” Alita shook her head gently. “The khans of the various tribes sense the threat from the humans, and the chiliarchs no longer wish to fight amongst themselves. When Hajin said the centaurs should unite against the humans, they believed it was the Earth Mother’s shaman. Now, the weather is growing colder, the camp’s food is nearly gone, and many mares are pregnant with foals. All the centaurs want to go home. If I tell them we are returning home to capture the Goblin King’s slaves in the east, they will believe that I am the Earth Mother’s new shaman.”

“My steed, use your hooves to trample the minions of the Goblin King. Lead the centaurs to plunder slaves and seize the lands to the east. I will tell the centaurs that Kweglo Polta is the Great Khan of the centaurs, chosen by the Earth Mother!”

Polta whinnied happily and asked, “When do we return home?”

Alita thought for a moment. “Send out the Whitetail hunters to the northern camp. Tell the chieftains there that the new shamaness, Alita, has received a revelation from the Earth Mother. Hajin has betrayed the centaurs, and the new shamaness has commanded their mares to return home first. If they obey my words, they will acknowledge me as the new shamaness. After the northern tribes have begun to withdraw, we will tell the chieftains here that we are going home to seize slaves in the east.”

“Alita is a wise and beautiful mare. I will listen to you,” Polta said, flicking his tail.

“The despicable Hajin is not worthy of being buried in the earth.” The female centaur pointed at the unidentifiable goblin remains and said to her spouse, “Throw them out of the tent to feed the crows outside. Tell the other centaurs that the spy Hajin has escaped, and have the centaur hunters track it down within the camp.”

Polta stood up, took two steps forward, and used his foreleg to mix the bloody remains of the goblin and bugbears together. He kicked the mess out of the tent and neighed to the Whitetail centaurs nearby, “Hajin is a spy for the Goblin King! It and the bugbears tried to harm my Alita! I trampled the foolish bugbears to death, but Hajin slipped out of the tent and fled. Find Hajin and bring it back to me. Throw these bugbears onto the open ground to feed the crows!”

The surrounding centaurs were all Polta’s trusted followers. They had witnessed him and Alita kill monsters that other centaurs could not, had seen them receive the Earth Mother’s favor, and had watched them rise from Captain to Chiliarch in just a few years.

They believed Polta’s words without question, took away the mixed pile of gore, and called their subordinates to search the camp for the treacherous spy, Hajin.

A flock of black crows perched on the tent took flight in alarm, circled a few times in the air, and flew off into the distance.

An alchemical crow could imitate the sounds of most creatures, but piecing together fragmented bits of its mimicry into coherent sentences was a tedious and time-consuming task.

If the alchemical crows were mimicking human speech, Victor could have easily pieced together complete sentences based on linguistic logic. But he didn’t understand the language of the centaurs at all, and the alchemical crows had no ability to distinguish useful sounds from meaningless centaur whinnies. They mimicked everything, from snores and sneezes to the grinding of teeth and the passing of gas.

This significantly increased the difficulty of the work for Victor and the Beast-tongue Shaman.

The alchemical crow’s mimicry skill was extremely useful, and Victor certainly didn’t want others to start shooting down any crow they saw from now on. To keep the Ash Falcons’ ability to gather intelligence through mimicry a secret, Victor did not have the Beast-tongue Shaman listen directly to the alchemical crows imitating the centaurs.

All of the crows’ mimicry was relayed by Victor to the Beast-tongue Shaman.

However, Victor’s vocal cords could not produce the same sounds as a centaur, and it was far too humiliating for the noble Gold-Eyed Earl to neigh like a horse.

These problems were not beyond Victor. He could use his Wind Walk talent to vibrate the air and imitate a horse’s call.

Victor imitated the alchemical crow’s mimicry for the Beast-tongue Shaman, one segment at a time. The shaman translated what he could, and for what he couldn’t understand, they interrogated the centaur captives. To ensure the intelligence was accurate, he had to interrogate more than one centaur captive.

After more than twenty days of hard work, Victor finally figured out a few things:

Many of the female centaurs were pregnant.

The centaurs were preparing to withdraw.

The “Chosen of the Earth Mother” were not as powerful as Orogar; their strength was comparable to a Gold-rank Centaur Chiliarch.

Due to the inherent inaccuracies of the alchemical crows’ mimicry, compounded by extraneous noises like farts and burps, Victor couldn’t obtain more precise or detailed intelligence. But strange factors like the “Chosen of the Earth Mother” and the “Goblin shaman” revealed very clear signs of interference. Otherwise, on what grounds could two Gold-rank centaurs and a goblin command a grand army of four hundred thousand centaurs from seven tribes?

Victor became even more suspicious that some extraordinary being or beings were secretly manipulating the centaurs to raid the East Pioneer Fief. But now that the centaurs were planning to go home, would this being or beings really let things fizzle out like this? Or had their ability to command the centaurs weakened?

Perhaps the “Goblin shaman” was already done for?

This was the most likely possibility. A weakling using deception to command the strong was like dancing on a burning thin hemp rope suspended over sharp blades—it was bound to end in disaster. Unless it had the power to protect itself. It was like an animal tamer brandishing only a whip at a fierce beast; the beast might think it a game and swat him down with a single paw. Once the tamer’s true weakness was exposed, the beast would be more than happy to bite his head off.

In any case, the absence of a Legendary-rank centaur among their forces was something to be thankful for. The overwhelming power and terrifying talents of a Legendary beastman were one thing. The key, however, was that without a core powerhouse, the centaur army lacked cohesion.

When Testier and Frederick learned that the centaur army was preparing to go home to birth their foals, they were overjoyed and lavished praise on Victor’s Wind Whisper talent. They sent elite scouts deep into the Northern Wildlands to confirm this intelligence, and then released messenger ravens, inviting the commanders of the eastern defensive line to Bright City to discuss a military plan to annihilate the centaurs.

Two days later, Duke Utheryn Baselius, Princess Roland Auguste of Gambis, King Friedrich of Dodor, and Patriarch Flidis each arrived in Bright City with their aides, joining Victor and the others around the round table in the meeting room on the fourth floor of the cathedral.

The black-haired, blue-eyed Grand Commander Testier stood by the table, a smile on his face. “The centaurs have been in a standoff with us for nearly twelve months, and they haven’t been idle. Now, their food supplies are low, and most of the female centaurs are pregnant. The centaur army is preparing to withdraw from the East Pioneer Fief front.”

Utheryn said with amusement, “Did these four hundred thousand centaurs come here to camp or to fight?”

Centaurs were different from humans. Females conceived during the Season of Earth and gave birth in the Season of Earth of the following year. Their gestation period was a full year, with one to two foals per birth, resulting in a low birth rate. If they missed the conception period, the female centaurs would not reproduce for another year. To ensure the procreation and growth of their race, centaurs had an especially strong reproductive drive during the Season of Earth.

Humans had never faced such a massive centaur army in a long-term conflict before. The sight of a hundred thousand female centaurs collectively pregnant was a spectacle worth adding to the annals of monsterology.

The stern-faced Patriarch Flidis coughed and said, “These filthy monsters, these ignorant beasts. We must seize this opportunity to annihilate them, otherwise the centaur population will grow strong again.”

He paused, then continued, “Centaurs are undisciplined and warmongering; it’s difficult to distinguish between their camping and their fighting. However, their raid on the East Pioneer Fief front this time, surrounding without attacking, aligns perfectly with our previous assessment.”

“The further southwest one goes in the Northern Wildlands, the more barren it becomes, and the further northeast, the richer. We want to fight our way back to the core regions of the Northern Wildlands, and the Sidon Centaurs also want to push east. With the Sasan Empire always threatening their rear, the Sidon Centaurs united to tie down the main forces of the East Pioneer Fief’s allied army, allowing a million beastmen slaves to infiltrate human territory. They wanted to use those beastmen to prevent us from attacking the Westdon Khanate.”

“Now, the larger entrenched beastmen forces in the East Pioneer Fief have been eliminated by us. The centaurs plan to withdraw their troops to preserve their strength. If they still insisted on a pitched battle with us, that would truly be courting death.”

Patriarch Flidis offered a reasonable explanation for the centaurs’ advance and retreat, but did not touch upon the reason for the joint action of the centaur tribes.

Roland arched a willow-like brow and asked with dissatisfaction, “Is that all?”

Although Princess Auguste did not mention the King of Beastmen, her question implied the same thing. The gazes of Duke Baselius and King Friedrich turned to the Grand Commander of the Radiant Knights, waiting quietly for his answer.

Testier nodded slightly and began, “At present, we have not found any Legendary-rank leader within the centaur army. The Giantstone Fortress war zone has also failed to find the King of Beastmen’s army in the eastern part of the Westdon Khanate. This is good news… As for why seven—no, to be precise, six—centaur tribes suddenly called a truce and united to attack the East Pioneer Fief front?”

“According to the information we have, the easternmost Whitetail Centaurs of the Westdon Khanate have annexed the Black-hoof Centaur tribe. Among them are two centaurs whom the others call the ‘Chosen of the Earth Mother.’ These two special centaurs and a hobgoblin slave used some unknown method to gather the leaders of the various tribes, reach a truce, and shift the conflict onto the human allied forces.”

“They hold a very high status among the centaurs and can be considered the leaders of the centaur army. However, we have exhausted all methods and believe that these two so-called ‘Chosen of the Earth Mother’ are not Legendary beastmen like Orogar. They are young, grow at an astonishing rate, and their strength is probably comparable to a Gold-rank Centaur Chiliarch. If they were given more time to grow, I fear they could achieve what Orogar could not—unifying the Sidon Centaurs and becoming the Great Khan of the centaurs.”

“As for now…”

Testier drew out the word, his tone relaxed. “They are not great centaurs like Orogar. They don’t yet have enough authority, so they can only follow the practical needs of the centaur tribes and choose to retreat. We speculate that they may lead the centaur tribes east to plunder beastmen slaves to compensate for the goblins their tribes have lost, and to establish their authority in the process.”

“These views have all been met with His Highness Randall’s reserved approval.”

The Paladin was implying to everyone present that Bright City had used unsavory Wizardry to gather intelligence on the enemy, and that the Gold-Eyed Earl had been involved.

“Your Highness Randall, is that so?” the brown-haired, brown-eyed King of Dodor asked, turning to Victor with a friendly smile.

The Radiant Knights were clearly planning to take the offensive, and the allied forces of the various kingdoms would have to cooperate. The elite cavalry of the Dodor Kingdom would certainly have to fight alongside the Radiant Knights, so King Friedrich had to respond with caution. Compared to the Sassans and the Radiant Knights, he now trusted the great lord from the southern kingdoms more.

Victor pondered for a moment, then nodded. “At the very least, Tournans and I have not detected any Legendary-rank centaurs.”

“I trust the methods and judgment of my Cousin Victor and the First Sacred Warrior,” Duke Baselius said with a smile, one hand resting on the table.

Tournans gave a faint “hmph,” then closed his mouth and said no more.

“Everyone,” Testier said, his eyes burning, “the centaur army’s food is about to run out, and they lack a forceful leader. We absolutely cannot just let them go back.”

“The centaur army is divided into two large camps, north and south. The northern camp, with about one hundred fifty thousand centaurs, is pinning down the garrison of Logwood City. The southern camp, between Bright City and Crystal City, has no more than two hundred fifty thousand. Our scouts report that the females in the northern camp have begun to withdraw eastward, and some females from the southern camp have also left. Clearly, the centaurs plan to withdraw the northern camp first, then the southern camp. I have drafted a military plan…”

“The garrisons of Bright City and Crystal City will pin down the stronger southern camp centaurs. We will then transfer cavalry from the eastern defensive line to join forces with the Logwood City garrison. Once the northern camp centaurs have mostly withdrawn, Priest Duncan will command the Logwood City allied forces to attack the northern camp centaurs. At the same time, His Majesty King Rex, commander of the Giantstone Fortress war zone, will lead four thousand war beast cavalry deep into the Westdon Khanate to hunt down those female centaurs. Giantstone Fortress’s main cavalry will be responsible for sweeping through the lairs of the various tribes. The centaur warriors of the southern and northern camps will inevitably flee at an accelerated pace, thereby losing their will to fight us in a pitched battle.”

“…At that point, we will have sealed our victory and can begin to mop up the scattered centaurs on the plains.”

Among the centaurs, every one was a soldier, and the females also possessed considerable combat prowess. Of the four-hundred-thousand-strong centaur army, females accounted for half. As long as a hundred thousand female centaurs left the main camp, the army would essentially collapse.

What kind of army fights half a war, only to have its soldiers collectively run home to have babies?

The centaurs’ lack of organization and unsuitability for large-scale, protracted warfare were laid bare.

This war was already won without even having to be fought. The question now was, since Testier wanted to annihilate the Sidon Centaurs, the lords of the other kingdoms had to ask: how would the rest of the war be fought?

“Your Excellency plans to transfer cavalry from the eastern defensive line. What about the resulting depletion of the line’s mobile forces?” the King of Dodor was the first to ask.

Testier replied with complete confidence, “Thirty thousand cavalry will be enough for the eastern defensive line. The Baselius family will leave five thousand, Gambis will leave twenty thousand, and the Dodor Kingdom will leave five thousand. Duchess Baselius, Your Highness Auguste, and Your Majesty will be responsible for holding the eastern defensive line. The rest of the cavalry will all go to Logwood City. In addition, the Moon Bear Knights, Griffin Knights, Swift Dragon Knights, and Iron Wall Knights must all be deployed.”

The Raging Wave Knightess was skilled in mobile infiltration operations, but when it came to siege-breaking and spearheading assaults, no one could match the earth Knights. Even Victor, Testier, and Tournans were less effective on a frontal battlefield than a Gold Knight of the Earth. Gambis had sent Roland to lead its forces with no intention of a frontal clash with the centaurs in the first place, and Testier’s decision not to mobilize Gambis’s main reinforcements was also due to Victor and Sylvia.

Gambis was separated from the centaur army by the Dodor Kingdom and the Warton Great Plains, so their motivation to fight was the weakest. The Dodor Kingdom, however, could not sit by and watch the centaurs infiltrate the Warton Great Plains and approach their kingdom’s northern plains.

Duke Thurn-Kru Friedrich demanded in a deep voice, “If the centaurs scatter and flee in all directions, who can guarantee they won’t attack the southern section of the eastern defensive line? If any centaurs enter the Warton Great Plains, such a victory would be meaningless!”

Emperor Friedrich glanced at the Commander of the Iron Wall Knights, then turned to King Friedrich with a smile. “Then the Dodor Kingdom shall be responsible for mopping up any centaur bandits that infiltrate the Warton Great Plains. Cousin, don’t you still have fifteen thousand infantry on the eastern defensive line? I’ll give you twenty thousand warhorses. How about you form them into cavalry?”

The King of Dodor was greatly tempted. After a moment’s thought, he said tentatively, “We will need the three holy cities on the Warton Plains near the eastern defensive line as staging points for pursuing the centaur bandits.”

Patriarch Flidis said without hesitation, “Very well. The defense of Holy Helm City, Holy Wing City, and Holy Shield City will be handed over to the Dodor Kingdom.”

The Sasan Empire was preparing to take the territory of the Sidon Centaurs; giving a part of the Warton Great Plains to the Dodorians was no great matter. The King of Dodor was very satisfied with this result. He exchanged a look with the Protector of the Kingdom and said, “Alright, on behalf of the Dodor Kingdom, I agree to the Church’s arrangement. The Dodor cavalry and the Iron Wall Knights will cooperate with the Sasan Empire to annihilate the centaur invaders.”

Testier nodded in satisfaction. He glanced at Victor, then turned his gaze to the bored-looking Princess Roland and asked elegantly, “Your esteemed Highness Auguste, do you have any objections?”

“I have no objections. It’s a fine plan,” Roland said faintly. She very much wanted to lead her army into battle against the centaurs, but the lords of Gambis would never agree.

Testier smiled. “In truth, Gold-rank Centaur Chiliarchs don’t have any special talents or abilities. They are generally no match for a Gold Knight, but they are sharp-witted, agile, and very difficult to catch. A Legendary-rank centaur, however, is another matter entirely…”

As he was speaking, Tournans, who had been silent all this time, suddenly stood up and said, “I sense… Dimat has arrived.”

Dimat, an initial-rank Knight, a Sixth-level Sacred Warrior, Deputy Commander of the Templars, and along with Tournans, a right-hand man to Pope Clement. He had once accompanied Victor on a topographical survey in the mountains of the Dodor Kingdom for nearly a year, making him an old friend of Victor’s.

Tournans was stationed in Bright City to deal with the centaurs, while Dimat was guarding Pope Clement. There was only one reason for him to rush to Bright City from Giantstone Fortress, thousands of kilometers away:

The Giantstone Fortress war zone had found traces of the King of Beastmen. Dimat had come with an edict from His Holiness the Pope, summoning the legendary Highnesses of the East Pioneer Fief war zone to Giantstone Fortress.

The lively atmosphere of the meeting instantly froze. Eyes flickered as everyone present contemplated the subsequent changes and their countermeasures.

Victor slowly stood up, a cryptic smile playing on his lips. “Let’s go welcome His Excellency Dimat and hear what he has to say.”

Chapter 645: The Inner Circle

Dimat was familiar with Tournans and knew what he was capable of. He wasn’t surprised that Tournans had come out of the city to greet him in advance, but he was stunned to see so many Majesties and Highnesses emerging with him.

The circle of top-tier Extraordinary powerhouses was small. Even if they had never met, they had all heard of each Highness’s distinctive traits. The number of sixth-level Sacred Warriors was only half that of Gold Knights, and Dimat, also a Gold-rank Extraordinary powerhouse and a confidant of Pontiff Clement, recognized everyone here.

It was clearly inappropriate to greet the Highnesses one by one. Dimat leaped from his Horned Wolf mount, which was panting with its tongue lolling out, and made the sign of the holy symbol over his chest. “Praise be to the Supreme Lord. It is an honor to see all of you here.”

With that, he took a parchment scroll and a letter from his waist pouch and handed them to Tournans, who stood at the very front.

“This is a decree handwritten by His Eminence the Pontiff and a letter from Deputy Commander Storch Testier of the Radiant Knights, sent back from the Northern Wildlands. It contains intelligence regarding the King of Beastmen.”

Tournans accepted the scroll and the letter with a solemn expression and intoned, “Praise be to the supreme Lord of Radiance. May Your light guide our path.”

“You have journeyed far, Brother Dimat. Please, go to the cathedral and pray to our Lord. We have prepared water, bread, and a warm, comfortable bed for you.”

Dimat had led a squad of clergy on a journey of over two thousand kilometers, taking two days and one night to travel from Giantstone Fortress in the northern part of the Dodor Kingdom to Bright City on the easternmost edge of the Sasan Empire. Their Horned Wolf mounts were nearly exhausted, and the guards were weary, but Dimat himself seemed to perk up.

Tournans, imitating a resident priest, arranged for the Church messenger and his men to go and rest, but the others wanted to hear more detailed information about the situation at Giantstone Fortress from Dimat himself.

Priest Flidis shot the bald Sacred Warrior a look before turning to Dimat’s retinue and commanding, “Our Lord’s radiance envelops this city. You may go and pray and rest on your own. Dimat, you will come with us to the cathedral. We have questions for you.”

“As you wish, my lord Flidis.”

The clerical guards led their Horned Wolves to the barracks to rest, escorted by soldiers from Bright City. Victor and the others returned to the meeting room in the cathedral. Patriarch Flidis had a chair added to the round table and invited Dimat to sit.

Tournans ran a finger over the wax seal of Pontiff Clement, breaking it. He unrolled the scroll, read it, then passed it to Patriarch Flidis, saying, “His Eminence has summoned me. I must go to Giantstone Fortress.”

Flidis took the Pontiff’s decree, read it through, and handed it to Grand Commander Testier. “This is the summons from the Curia we agreed upon earlier, jointly signed by His Eminence the Pontiff and Patriarch Tamor.”

Howard Testier was the most powerful figure in the Church, but the Radiant Knights were, in name, subordinate to the Curia’s commands. However, without Patriarch Flidis’s signature, a pontifical decree held no authority over the Radiant Knights, and the Temple Army answered only to the Radiant Knights.

Testier nodded, accepted the Curia’s decree, and passed Storch Testier’s intelligence letter directly to Victor.

The Curia’s decree was an official internal document of the Church and held no compulsory power over secular lords. Storch Testier was responsible for scouting the King of Beastmen, so the letter he sent back was the key piece of intelligence.

Victor finished reading the brief letter and passed it to Roland. It was then passed around the table from one person to the next. Once everyone had read it, Testier looked around and said, “We only exchange messages with Giantstone Fortress every twelve days. Like all of you, I am not very familiar with the situation in the Giantstone Fortress war zone over the past few days.”

“A letter carried by a Red-Eyed Crow can’t contain much detail. Storch writes that the King of Beastmen he discovered is a two-headed goblin. He attempted to kill this two-headed Goblin King but failed. Instead, he was pursued for several hundred kilometers by a Manticore enslaved by the Goblin King. He is currently hiding in the Giantstone Mountains, awaiting support.”

“Brother Dimat, do you have anything to add?” Testier asked, turning his head.

The Sacred Warrior nodded. “For the past ten months, His Eminence the Pontiff has dispatched elite scouts to repeatedly search the wilderness north of Giantstone Fortress for any sign of the King of Beastmen. I have also led Sacred Warriors deep into the wilderness on multiple occasions, but we never found him. It was not until four days ago that Deputy Commander Storch Testier sent back news of the two-headed Goblin King via a Red-Eyed messenger crow from the Giantstone Mountains, more than a thousand kilometers northeast of Giantstone Fortress.”

“His Eminence has already dispatched a team to the location marked by Deputy Commander Testier to help him establish a camp. As for the specific details about the two-headed Goblin King, I am not clear on them at the moment.”

“…However,” Dimat paused, then began to recount his own experiences, “During my reconnaissance missions, I discovered that there are several beastmen tribes to the east of the Sidon Centaurs’ territory—Ogres, Gnolls, and even a medium-sized Goat-Headed Monster tribe… Although they frequently fight amongst themselves, my colleagues and I observed no large-scale wars… Goat-Headed Monsters and Ogres living in peace is indeed baffling… Deputy Commander Testier and Paladin Conlar Trigovar of the Inquisition passed through the Goat-Headed Monsters’ territory and discovered the deformed two-headed Goblin King and its pet Manticore… After receiving the message, His Eminence Clement concluded that the Goblin King the Deputy Commander found is likely the King of Beastmen. Those beastmen tribes are its conquered vassals. Only this can explain why a medium-sized Goat-Headed Monster tribe would exist near Ogres and Gnolls.”

Goat-Headed Monsters were a particularly foolish type of beastman. Their foolishness made them terrifying; much like how if a lead sheep accidentally falls off a cliff, the rest of the flock will follow. Goat-Headed Monsters were beastmen with an exceptionally strong herd mentality and excellent obedience. The Savi Warriors, alchemical creatures designed by the Alchemical Empire, were modeled after them. The abilities of the Goat-Headed Monsters could be glimpsed through the Savi Warriors’ talents: Superhuman Stamina, being herbivorous, and the ability to absorb the properties of various plants to temporarily gain effects like poison, frenzy, or berserk states. Historically, the main legion of the King of Beastmen had always included Goat-Headed Monsters.

Ogres and Gnolls enjoyed hunting Goat-Headed Monsters, so their tribes were always large enough to sustain some losses.

The discovery of a medium-sized Goat-Headed Monster tribe near Giantstone Fortress, one that had not been eaten to extinction by Ogres and Gnolls, was enough to suggest that these beastmen were under some kind of restraint. Storch had followed this clue and found the two-headed Goblin King. The fact that this two-headed goblin was protecting a Goat-Headed Monster clan meant that even if it wasn’t the King of Beastmen yet, it possessed the intent and potential to become one.

This was terrible news.

“A two-headed goblin? I’ve never seen one… I’d love to see what it looks like.” Roland cupped her elegantly curved chin, her eyes sparkling.

Princess Auguste’s curiosity was well-known in the circle of Extraordinary powerhouses, but every move a Gold Knight made was subject to deep interpretation. Roland’s unbridled creativity always left people baffled at first, and then dumbfounded in hindsight. Her emphasis on the two-headed goblin’s strangeness immediately put everyone on alert.

However, Testier was never one to be led by the nose. He smiled and said, “A two-headed goblin is no different from a two-headed person—just a congenital deformity. The tricky part is the Goblin King, and the most troublesome part is the Manticore it has enslaved. I recall Her Highness Sylvia York once killed a Manticore in the Northern Wildlands and gravely injured its mate. Perhaps the Manticore enslaved by the two-headed Goblin King is the one that escaped from Lady Rose…”

He paused for two seconds, then faced Victor. “Cousin Victor, do you think we could ask Lady Rose to take action and kill the Manticore and the two-headed Goblin King?”

Manticores, along with Dragons, white apes, and Hydra Lizards, were Legendary creatures. Their strength levels couldn’t be categorized by human-devised power standards, because Legendary creatures were closer to Ancient Behemoths, possessing incredibly powerful natural abilities. In fact, Sun Elves and Gold Knights were also considered Legendary creatures.

Compared to giant Legendary creatures like the Hydra Lizard and the white ape, the Manticore ranked lower, but it was by no means easy to deal with.

When Sylvia first set foot in the Gold realm, she wandered the Northern Wildlands alone, making no effort to conceal the aura of a Spirit Knight. All manner of powerful monsters fled from her. Only two Manticores dared to challenge her, and they made her feel the fear of death, which in turn awakened the humanity within her soul.

One Manticore was skinned by Sylvia, but the other actually managed to escape from her grasp.

Now that Sylvia had successfully suppressed the power of a Spirit Knight, how could Victor agree to let his beloved face a Manticore again?

“Grand Commander, you can ask her yourself,” Victor said coolly.

Testier had anticipated Victor’s response. He smiled and nodded, not pursuing the topic further.

Patriarch Flidis suddenly asked, “Brother Dimat, is His Eminence the Pontiff prepared to perform the Great Divination?”

The meeting hall fell silent. All sound seemed to be snuffed out by a tangible yet formless spiritual power. The gazes of the High-ranked Knights all focused on the Deputy Commander of the Templars.

Dimat slowly stood up, his eyes shining with a platinum-gold Holy Light. He declared forcefully, “Before my departure, His Eminence the Pontiff instructed me to inform the Highnesses in the East Pioneer Fief war zone that he is willing to follow the path of Holy Light and Redemption, without regard for himself.”

“Praise be to our Lord,” the clergy present murmured, and the atmosphere in the hall became sacred and solemn.

Flidis nodded in satisfaction. He took the pontifical decree from Testier’s hand, picked up the quill from the table, and signed his name. “In that case, I too shall go to Giantstone Fortress to lend His Eminence the Pontiff a hand.”

The Great Divination was the Radiant Church’s ultimate divine art. It was the fundamental reason why Priests ranked higher than Paladins and Sacred Warriors, and why the Curia held authority over other institutions. If the Pontiff did not possess the Great Divination, the Church would not have its current balance of power.

The conditions for a Pontiff or Pope to perform the Great Divination were harsh, and the cost was immense, directly impacting their life force. The effectiveness of the art was closely related to the caster’s level of life and the amount of holy power they could channel. The effect of a Great Divination cast by a Legendary Priest was worlds apart from one cast by a sixth-level priest. If Priest Duncan were to become Pontiff, although he was also a Legendary Priest, his life force would be insufficient to sustain the entire casting process. He would probably be completely spent and return to the embrace of the Lord of Radiance halfway through the ritual. A Pontiff who was an ordinary sixth-level priest was even less capable.

The three Patriarchs could channel the holy power of other priests to support the Pontiff in casting the Great Divination. The fact that Flidis was also rushing to Giantstone Fortress meant that the divination Clement was preparing was no small matter. After he performed the ritual, even if he did not perish, he would have to step down from his position as Pontiff.

Testier stood up and said gravely, “With the decree signed by all three Patriarchs, I will obey the Curia’s summons and go to Giantstone Fortress to assist His Eminence the Pontiff in slaying the King of Beastmen!”

The others remained silent, each contemplating the impact and changes this event would bring.

Victor raised an eyebrow, his clear voice ringing in the ears of the attendees. “If the Grand Commander and Patriarch Flidis are going to Giantstone Fortress, who will preside over the war effort here? Deputy Commander Clark Testier from Logwood City?”

Howard shook his head, holding up the decree in his hand. “His Eminence the Pontiff’s order is for all three Stormwind Paladins to go to Giantstone Fortress to deal with the King of Beastmen in the east. As for the East Pioneer Fief war zone, the centaurs are in no position to keep pestering us, nor do they pose a major threat to the Sasan Empire. When I arrive at Giantstone Fortress, I will urge King Rex to lead the Sword Mantis Knights and Horned Wolf Sacred Warriors to attack the retreating female Sidon Centaurs, leaving the centaur warriors on the front lines trapped. The war in the East Pioneer Fief will be left to the command of Paladin Relgarrel, Battle Priest Kent, and His Majesty Emperor Friedrich.”

Victor was silent for two seconds, then said, “I will go to Giantstone Fortress with you. Please, Your Excellency Patriarch Flidis, remain here to oversee the East Pioneer Fief war zone, just in case.”

Dimat was overjoyed. He bowed to Victor and said, “Thank you for your assistance, Your Highness Randell. With your help, the two-headed Goblin King will not escape death.”

Victor returned the gesture with a smile, then asked Howard, “When do we depart?”

“I have ordered a messenger raven to be sent to summon Clark. As soon as he arrives in Bright City, we will set out for Giantstone Fortress immediately. We must strive to eliminate the threat of the Goblin King as soon as possible.” The Grand Commander of the Radiant Knights nodded with a smile. “With Cousin Victor joining us, perhaps we won’t need His Eminence the Pontiff to use the Great Divination after all.”

“Then I will go and prepare. You all need time to think as well.” Victor rose from his seat, pressed Tournans on the shoulder, and gave the assembly a Knight’s salute.

The others rose to return the salute. Victor nodded and led Roland out of the meeting room.

When the two returned to the House of Randell’s residence in Bright City, Victor arranged for his guards to clear the area and stand watch on the perimeter to prevent anyone from eavesdropping on his conversation with Roland.

Entering the log-built residence, Victor invited the princess to sit. Roland, however, wandered around the simply furnished living room before turning to the Gold-Eyed Earl, who was personally brewing Snow Ear Tea. “Lord Randell, I want coffee. No Snow Sugar, with fresh goat’s milk, and no gamy taste… Hmm, centaur milk would be best. I’ve never tried it.”

“There’s only Snow Ear Tea. Otherwise, you can make it yourself,” Victor said irritably.

“So narrow-minded and ungentlemanly.” Roland puffed out her cheeks. She pointed a slender finger at the small stove, and a green glow extinguished and froze the charcoal fire, not even letting a wisp of smoke escape.

Flipping her platinum-blonde hair, Roland giggled and threw herself onto the wooden sofa, propping her long, slender legs on the coffee table. She raised her willow-like brows smugly and said, “If I can’t have my coffee, you can’t have your Snow Ear Tea. Now we’re even.”

Victor shook his head and chuckled. “No matter how excellent a leader is, someone will always be dissatisfied. I’ve always advocated for a win-win, but it’s impossible to look after everyone’s interests.”

Roland wagged a finger. “The question is who gets to distribute the benefits. This war is already over. The centaur army is preparing to retreat, and the Sasan Empire has secured the East Pioneer Fief, achieving its initial strategic objective. As long as the Sidon Centaur tribes and the Goblin King to the east fight and contain each other, the Sasan Empire’s crisis will be resolved. Yet Testier insists on continuing this war. On this matter, you are the representative of the southern kingdoms. Why didn’t you speak out against him?”

Victor spread his hands. “What about the casualties in the East Pioneer Fief? If the war continues, they are a mercenary legion under the tenant system. If the war ends now, they are tenants slaughtered by beastmen. I cannot stand by and watch the Church and the lords negate the tenant system I created.”

“Clement might lose the pontifical throne over this. After some time, the tenant system will be brought up again, perhaps under a different name.” Princess Auguste curled her lip in a cunning smile. “Patriarch Tamor is the most likely to ascend to the pontifical throne. If we lend him a hand, wouldn’t he be able to repay the Kingdom of Gambis?”

“It is precisely because Tamor is the high-ranking church official presiding over the southern expansion strategy that he has no chance of ascending to the pontifical throne. For Tamor’s faction to dominate the Curia, we must first establish the framework of a great southern empire.”

“Are those the only reasons?” Roland pressed relentlessly, her emerald eyes fixed on Victor’s face, her gaze sharp and aggressive.

Victor said, amused, “Are you still the princess I know? I’ve never seen such a deadly serious princess.”

Roland’s little face was stern, her eyebrows gradually arching up in a clear “I’m really about to get angry” expression.

Victor rubbed his nose and said helplessly, “Alright, the Manticore is tough to deal with, the Goblin King is weak, Tournans excels at close combat, and a Stormwind Paladin’s aura is too conspicuous. Tournans would likely be in danger against the Manticore. I don’t want the bald man to die just like that.”

Roland blinked, a faint smile playing on her lips. “A simple little prophecy spell could conceal Testier’s aura. What difficulty would he have in shooting the two-headed goblin? If the Goblin King problem isn’t solved, the main forces of the Dodor, Sus, and Borea kingdoms at Giantstone Fortress won’t dare to venture deep into the Northern Wildlands to block the Sidon Centaurs’ an escape route. The strategy of having the main legions from two war zones pincer the centaurs can’t be realized. Not only will the lords in the East Pioneer Fief war zone have reservations, but the Sidon Centaur army might not panic and collapse, which would affect the entire war. Testier inviting Sylvia and having Patriarch Flidis publicly question the Pope’s Great Divination was nothing more than posturing to rally the troops’ morale.”

“Did my most brilliant student not see that?”

Victor was silent for a moment before saying, “Your Highness, what is it you truly want to know from me?”

Roland immediately beamed with joy. She sat up straight and complained with a hint of coquettishness, “You never told me what you talked about with the Bear-monster Elder in the Giantwood Forest. It’s kept me from sleeping well these past few days.”

Victor just gave a noncommittal “Mm,” showing no intention of satisfying the princess’s curiosity.

Roland secretly ground her teeth, letting out a little huff of dissatisfaction before continuing, “I’ve told you before, at our level, we can always feel the traces of the Force of Destiny, and the Force of Destiny is related to an extraordinary’s path and future. Above Gold is Legendary, above Legendary is the Saint realm, and there are sights to see beyond the Saint realm as well. Sylvia will know one day, and I want to know too. Is Testier insisting on winning this war just for power?”

“He devises a plan to annihilate the centaurs here, and immediately, news of the King of Beastmen arrives from the Giantstone Fortress war zone. Isn’t that too much of a coincidence? The Force of Destiny is converging here. Of course, I have to contend for it.”

Victor stared at Roland’s incomparably beautiful face for a long moment, then said leisurely, “You’re not the only one who wants to contend. The powerhouses among the centaurs want to contend as well… Your Highness, you are the youngest Gold Knight. you have a long time to squander, there’s no need to be so anxious. This is dangerous, very dangerous. I’m talking about your mentality.”

“You sound like an old man,” Roland said, curling her pink, crystalline lips in disdain.

Victor said smugly, “But I’m walking ahead of you now, am I not?”

Before Roland could leap over and twist his ear, Victor said with a serious expression, “Coincidence is predicated on necessity. If there weren’t a powerful beastman lord to the east of the Westdon Khanate, the centaurs would have attacked them long ago, and this war wouldn’t have been triggered. The aftershocks of the Church’s Great Divination are still being felt, but do you think the Sidon Centaurs will just wait to die?”

“Have you heard of the God-favored?” Victor asked, changing the subject.

Roland, afraid Victor would stop talking, nodded quickly, her adorable expression seeming to say, I’m listening.

Victor chuckled in spite of himself. “The Bear-monster Elder wanted to kill me. The things it told me were basically lies, or at least couldn’t be fully trusted. But I am certain of one thing: the Bear-monster Elder is the God-favored among the Bear-monsters. The centaurs, of course, have a God-favored as well…”

“The Chosen of the Earth Mother?” Roland’s eyes lit up, eager to try her hand.

Victor warned, “The Lord of Radiance has tilted the scales of fate. How can the Mother Earth stand by and watch her own offspring suffer a loss? You can imagine how perilous the struggle between pan-conscious deities is. Even if the ‘Chosen of the Earth Mother’ are not Legendary Centaurs yet, their growth rate is astonishing. A Gold Knight who kills one can receive the favor of destiny, but if one of them kills a human powerhouse, they will likewise gain the amplified faith of their kinsmen.”

“Faith? So it’s faith,” Roland murmured to herself, her willow-like brows furrowed.

“People’s minds are linked, their wills are transmitted to one another, transcending the limits of life, and this is reflected in specific individuals.” Victor nodded. “So-called faith is nothing more than wishes. Power and prestige can gather the collective wishes of the masses, which in turn feeds back to the one in power. A Knight wants to join a great family because great families have resources. What are resources? Mithril? Adamantine? Bloodline? A noble partner? These are all superficial. The real resource is the wishes of the subjects that come with power. The subjects desire for their family to have a powerful protector. The power of their minds gathers upon the Knight and creates a High-ranked Knight. Their will also influences the Knight’s will, forming a conviction to protect the family. This is the fundamental reason why a Knight can step into the extraordinary realm with the firm conviction of protecting their family. Therefore, great families have High-ranked Knights, royal families have Gold Knights. The Baselius family’s Gold Bloodline has been passed down to this day precisely because the great and small families of the Iron Mountain Empire wished for them to have a Gold Bloodline. This wish has remained unchanged for thousands of years, like a faith, feeding back to the Baselius family. And the origin of the Baselius Gold Bloodline is precisely the Spirit Knight, whom all knights firmly believe to be the incarnation of the Elemental Sea, the source of a knight’s nobility. This is also a form of faith.”

Roland bit her lip and shook her head. “This is not the path I want.”

“This is the path I want,” Victor said with a calm smile. “And I firmly believe that you won’t be able to escape it in the end.”

“How can you be so sure?” Roland asked, unconvinced.

“The higher you go, the smaller the circle.” Victor clasped his hands and said with a sigh, “Even an ignorant vagrant, when pushed onto the throne of power, will undergo a qualitative change. He will become stronger, healthier, wiser, and more resolute. He must become stronger, or he will be replaced, killed. However, an ordinary person’s limit is only so high. When he can advance no further, grow no stronger, he will marry a noble wife to share the burden of power, prestige, and the people’s wishes… like Marchioness Sophia Wimbledon, or Her Highness Princess Roland Auguste… If Sophia had refused the old Marquess Wimbledon’s marriage proposal back then, she would have had to develop a force capable of rivaling the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence. Therefore, whether she agreed or refused, she was destined to fall into our small circle.”

Roland crossed her legs and propped them on the table, clasping her hands behind her head. She grumbled, “Boring, so uninteresting… I thought that slaying that ‘Chosen of the Earth Mother’ centaur would let me glimpse different mysteries of power and seize the favor of destiny.”

Victor nodded. “There will certainly be a sacrificial offering. If something happened to you, how could I go back to Gambis? How could I face Catherine and Edward? I’ll go slaughter the Goblin King first. If those two centaurs still refuse to lead their tribes and flee east, I will turn back and deal with them then. You will stay obediently at Duncan Fortress on the eastern defensive line. This is one of my conditions for supporting Testier.”

“When did you make that condition? How come I don’t know about it?” Roland was greatly surprised, sitting up to press him.

Victor said righteously, “Right now.”

Chapter 646: Tacit Understanding

The chaotic possibilities of the future inevitably collapse into the singular certainty of the present as the river of time flows on. Just as the great armies of the human kingdoms prepared to launch a pincer attack on the Sidon Centaurs, they discovered a powerful beastman lord to the east of the centaurs’ territory. If the allied forces of the kingdoms did not eliminate this unpredictable factor beforehand, the more than one hundred thousand cavalry from the Giantstone Fortress war zone would face immense military risks by leaving their solid fortifications and entering the Northern Wildlands.

Even with his own meager experience in military command, Victor knew that the news of the Goblin King had changed the entire situation. The forces humanity could use to strike the centaurs were reduced by a third. The Giantstone Fortress could now only dispatch a little over a thousand war beast cavalry to raid the centaurs’ rear. Unless the human allied forces first dismantled the threat of the goblin lord, the strategy of a pincer attack on the centaurs had essentially failed.

Of course, this did not mean the East Pioneer Fief war zone would simply watch as the centaur tribes retreated into the vast wilderness. The centaurs lacked food and had no heart for battle, so the three hundred thousand elites of the East Pioneer Fief still held the advantage. Once most of the female centaurs had withdrawn to their tribal lairs, the Radiant Knights, the Temple Army, and the allied lords’ forces were bound to launch an offensive against the centaurs’ northern camp. However, the allied forces would have to fight a tough battle to crush them completely.

The Kingdom of Gambis’s core interests lay on the Southern Continent. As a Protector of Gambis, Victor requested that Gambis’s main reinforcements hold fast to the eastern defensive line and not participate in the field battles between the Sasan Empire and the centaurs. Given the Gold-Eyed Earl’s status, Testier and Flidis had to grant him this much face.

Time was now of the essence. The Church had to kill the goblin lord as quickly as possible, throwing the beastman tribes threatening the Giantstone Fortress war zone into chaos. The subsequent war would be much easier to fight.

With Sylvia not taking action, Victor could be called the strongest among the secular lords. With his participation, the chances of successfully decapitating the goblin lord were extremely high—they wouldn’t even need Clement to use the art of prophecy to conceal the auras of the three Stormwind Paladins.

For Victor, Testier, and Tournans, the fastest way to Giantstone Fortress was on foot. The aberrant war beasts couldn’t run as fast as them and would require a large amount of food along the way. Bringing the Randall Personal Guard would only slow Victor down, and for an infiltration and decapitation mission, more people would only be a hindrance. In the end, Victor chose Caligula, Narsen, and eight Alchemical Soldiers to act as his entourage.

In Giantwood Forest, Caligula had helped Victor foil an assassination attempt by a mysterious person. It proved that the big simpleton’s mental perception could compensate for the shortcomings of Victor’s own perceptive abilities. Narsen’s mental power was somewhat weaker, but he had already touched the edge of the Touch of the Mind.

The more than one hundred thousand people of the Randell Fief regarded Narsen as their lord’s foremost warrior and the second-strongest expert in the family. The soldiers of the mercenary legion, in particular, greatly admired Lord Narsen for his humble origins. His fame had spread throughout the Centaur Hills, and even the lords of the various kingdoms had heard of the Bear of the Northlands, tacitly acknowledging him as a top-tier Ferocious warrior in the human kingdoms.

The will of the masses, like a blessing of faith, rested upon Narsen, giving him immense motivation to climb higher, but it also brought him heavy pressure that stimulated his mental growth. After Narsen killed the Golden Dawn Sparrow Earl, his fame grew, and he trained even more diligently. His strength had advanced by leaps and bounds, incomparable to what it once was. But with Caligula still a step ahead of him, his mentality had become one of anxiety. He was desperate to find a Gold-rank centaur, defeat it in battle, and achieve a breakthrough.

There were both internal and external factors behind Narsen’s change in mentality. Victor knew that his words would have little effect, so he simply decided to keep Narsen by his side to prevent him from getting himself killed.

With the lord and his two top Ferocious Warriors leaving, it was no longer suitable for the Randall Personal Guard to participate in the fighting. Victor wrote two letters, one for Sylvia and one for Sophia. Under the pretext of delivering these letters, he had two Rose Knights squads withdraw from the battle. One would return to the Centaur Hills, while the other would first meet with Sophia and then reinforce the mercenary legion at the Ghost Forest pioneering outpost. Meanwhile, Charlotte would take the Ferocious Warriors and the young apprentice knight’s squires from Silver Moon Manor to Duncan Fortress to assist Gillian with logistics and wait for Victor’s return.

Victor broke up his personal guard. The 32 surviving ordinary elites were placed by the side of various legion commanders, nominally serving as the Gold-Eyed Earl’s Liaison Officers. In reality, they were removed from the combat sequence and tasked with observing and recording the battle processes of each legion to enrich the House of Randell’s military command experience. The Alchemical humans were all assigned to the Swift Dragon Knights’ retainer cavalry, where they would participate directly in the fighting.

Victor intended to update his alchemical creatures, so the 380 Alchemical humans from the Centaur Hills reinforcements, plus the 80 Alchemical militia from his personal guard, were all considered expendable in this war.

Only by returning to the Alchemy Tower could their Soul Fire be reloaded with skills, transforming them into powerful third-level Source-Blood Militia.

Another person Victor worried about was Roland. She, too, was on the verge of advancing to the Legendary-rank, and she saw the situation more clearly than Narsen. She knew that by killing the leader of the centaurs, she could gain the favor of the Force of Destiny and potentially take that crucial step.

How could a God-favored of the Mother Earth be killed so easily?

Victor would rather have the “Chosen of the Earth Mother” flee east into the wilderness with the remnants of the centaur forces than face them head-on. He had already glimpsed some of the mysteries behind the veil of the world. The Eternal War that had erupted between the Ancient Behemoths was proof enough. Their will to fight was passed down to their various bloodline descendants, all for the sake of winning the Creator Taelon Ruier’s favor and obtaining supreme power and authority.

Victor strongly suspected that the Radiant Knights’ use of the Great Divination to kill Orogar was the reason the God-favored had appeared among the centaurs. From this, he deduced that if the “Chosen of the Earth Mother” were pushed too far, their counterattack would be especially fierce.

Patriarch Flidis and Grand Commander Testier were likely aware of this as well. The battle plan they devised was to storm the centaurs’ northern camp, as the two centaur God-favored were both in the southern camp.

Once the centaurs in the northern camp collapsed completely, the God-favored would have no choice but to lead their tribe members to migrate east, seizing the living space of other beastmen. The Sasan Empire and the Kingdom of Naville could then smoothly take over the centaurs’ former territory.

Roland, however, would likely disregard Testier’s grand strategic picture and wait for an opportunity to kill the centaur God-favored. She had once gone behind the back of the House of Auguste to secretly try and breach the Elemental Sea—was there anything she wouldn’t dare to do?

Victor could keep Narsen by his side, but he certainly couldn’t control Roland. To prevent any mishap from befalling Gambis’s most promising princess, he urgently summoned the High-ranked Knight commanders from Gambis’s various families before his departure. In his capacity as a Protector of the Kingdom, he ordered all Gambis reinforcements, except the Swift Dragon Knights, to hold their positions on the Duncan Fortress defensive line, forbidding them from engaging in battle without authorization. They were also to keep a close watch on Roland. He had to stop Princess Auguste from slipping away.

As they were both Protectors of the Kingdom, and Roland was also a sovereign, Victor technically had no authority to restrict the actions of a royal Highness, much less order high-ranked knights to keep a princess under surveillance. The knights of the Auguste family should have upheld their liege lord’s dignity and righteously refused the Gold-Eyed Earl’s unreasonable demand. However, everyone, including the Swift Dragon Knights’ vice-commander, Earl Folt Auguste, very cheerfully accepted His Highness Randall’s order. They unanimously decided that the Raging Wave Knightesses from each family would temporarily attend to Princess Roland Auguste until the Gambis reinforcements returned home.

It was no use for Roland to roll her eyes in anger. The Raging Wave Knightesses from the Wellington, Joshua, and Nim families were both her subjects and her relatives. With His Highness Randall’s order as their shield, they could ignore the difference in status between their liege lord and her vassal and follow Roland around day in and day out.

Victor used his authority as a Protector of the Kingdom for the first time on Roland. He even asked the famously staid and serious old Patriarch Flidis to take Gambis’s “big troublemaker” with him when he returned to the rear.

The Gold-Eyed Earl’s actions were bound to cause misunderstandings and give people grounds for gossip. Everyone would assume he regarded Her Highness Roland Auguste as a potential partner.

But Victor, already in for a penny, was in for a pound. Before Roland could come looking for him to settle the score, he had already left without a care in the world.

The furious Roland couldn’t find Victor, so she went and purloined his silver unicorn mount, naming it Silver Fleece.

Howard, Clark, Tournans, and Dimat had all come without retinues. Including Victor’s entourage and Priest Kalomon, the entire group consisted of sixteen people. Among them were four Legendary-rank combatants. Priest Kalomon was also a senior knight. The weakest members of the group appeared to be Victor’s Alchemical Soldiers.

Grand Commander Testier was initially worried that these Mystic Warriors wouldn’t be able to keep up, which would be embarrassing for his cousin Victor, so he deliberately slowed their pace. However, everyone soon discovered that the Gold-Eyed Earl’s entourage had light footfalls and bottomless stamina. Even after walking for more than two hundred kilometers across the wilderness, they weren’t red in the face or out of breath, acting as if it were nothing. Testier, intending to test the true strength of the Mystic Warriors, gradually picked up the pace. Soon, their forced march exceeded the speed of a Horned Wolf, yet the Alchemical Soldiers showed no signs of strain.

From dusk until the next dawn, the group marched over seven hundred kilometers. Priest Kalomon could barely maintain his composure. He found that the balance between his speed and stamina was reaching its limit, yet the Gold-Eyed Earl’s Mystic Warriors still had energy to spare.

Howard stopped, brushing the dew from his hide armor. “Cousin,” he said to Victor, “let’s stop to rest for a bit. We’ll have some water and food, then get back on the road.”

Victor smiled and nodded. Caligula immediately cheered, undoing the supplies on his back while shouting, “Time to eat! Time to eat! Aka is hungry!”

The big simpleton had a pure heart and was harmless to others. Knowing he was timid and afraid to fight, he always rushed to do odd jobs. He had taken all the group’s supplies and carried them on a special rack on his back, weighing more than three hundred pounds.

Caligula lit the charcoal in the marching furnace, dumped the cured meat and green wheat into the pot, poured in some water, and then squatted on the ground, eagerly waiting for the pot to bubble.

Master said the meat porridge can only be eaten after it bubbles… Aka remembers Master’s words.

Everyone liked a big simpleton like him. The high-ranking clergy of the Church, in particular, had heard that he had once been on the brink of death. The Pontiff had used a divine art to save him, giving him a new life, kindling his wisdom, and teaching him how to pray. This was undoubtedly a miracle performed by the Supreme Lord, so the clergy felt a natural affinity for Aka.

Testier walked over, peered at the meat porridge that wasn’t yet steaming, and chuckled. “Brother Aka, have you ever eaten the meat of a Northern Wildlands jerboa?”

Meat? Jerboa meat?

Caligula’s ears immediately perked up. He lifted his large face, shook his head repeatedly, and said simplemindedly, “Aka has never eaten jerboa meat… Jerboa meat, can Aka eat it?”

Tournans squeezed over, pointed at Caligula, and chided, “You idiot, you should be asking, ‘Is jerboa meat delicious?!’”

Caligula scratched the back of his head and looked to Narsen for help with an innocent expression.

Narsen stepped forward and explained, “Tutor, what Aka means is, if it’s edible, he wants to try it.”

Tournans paused, then came to a realization. “Oh, so that’s what he meant. The thoughts of an idiot are truly incomprehensible.”

Everyone chuckled. Priest Kalomon walked over, patted the big simpleton on the shoulder, and said with a smile, “Brother Aka, jerboas are a rare delicacy in the Northern Wildlands. Especially this season, they’ve fattened up on wild, ripe green wheat in preparation for winter. They’re plump and round, their meat is tender, and if you catch one and roast it with just a sprinkle of salt, it’s exceptionally delicious.”

Caligula’s love for food was sincere. He didn’t snore in his sleep, but he would drool whenever he craved something. Right now, he was swallowing hard, a rumbling sound coming from his throat.

“Come on, I’ll take you to catch some,” Priest Kalomon said with a hearty laugh.

“Jerboas aren’t easy to catch. Count me in,” said the Sacred Warrior Dimat with enthusiasm.

It was the second month of the Season of Wind. The wild green wheat in the fields had grown to half a man’s height, its leaves a boundless sea of gold. Victor withdrew his gaze and said to Narsen, “Take Aka and catch a few jerboas to add to our meal.”

Narsen didn’t overthink it and nodded in agreement.

“‘Tournans, come along. Let’s see who can catch more,’ Dimat invited the bald Sacred Warrior.

Tournans was about to express his disdain but glanced at Howard, Clark, and Victor. He suddenly felt he should display a bit more shrewdness, so he waved his hand and said with a nonchalant expression, ‘You all go ahead and catch them. I’ll wait here.’

The First Sacred Warrior had entered his Archbishop mode. Dimat could only shake his head with a wry smile and walk off into the distance with Narsen and the others.

Clark Testier, who also had black hair, blue eyes, and a handsome face, was the first to speak. ‘Cousin Victor, I’ve never seen such powerful Mystic Warriors.’

Clark glanced at the Alchemical Soldiers standing guard nearby. ‘They all seem to be agility-focused Ferocious Warriors?’

Before they set out, the Alchemical Soldiers had adjusted their Elemental Attributes, lowering their Physique to 14 points and raising their Perception to 21 points, turning them into Ferocious humans with extraordinary agility.

The vast majority of Ferocious humans focused on a path of strength and physique. Agility-based Ferocious Warriors were rare, so for eight of them to suddenly appear at Victor’s side, anyone could see that something was amiss.

Victor couldn’t help but smile, recalling how he used to hide his Alchemical militia, afraid of arousing suspicion. ‘They’ve all used some special methods,’ he said.

Howard nodded. ‘In recent decades, the development of Potion-making at Aerie Fortress has been second to none. The standard of Aerie Fortress’s Potion Masters surpasses even that of the Church and the Silver Spire. The Mystic Warriors trained by Aerie Fortress are also top-tier.’

Victor replied nonchalantly, ‘Indeed. The scholars under Emperor Friedrich have also been quite an eye-opener for me.’

The Grand Commander of the Radiant Knights asked with a serious expression, ‘Does Your Highness think Emperor Friedrich’s scholars are useful?’

‘Very useful.’

Victor gave an affirmative answer, then paused before saying, ‘I am a pragmatic lord. I hope that this operation to decapitate the Goblin King can receive more potent support.’

Howard fell silent for a moment before speaking slowly, ‘Since the collapse of the Iron Mountain Empire, the Radiant Knights and the Temple Army have guarded the eastern border of Sasan, preventing the beastmen from advancing an inch for a thousand years. During this time, more than one million four hundred thousand warriors have bravely sacrificed their lives. Nearly all High-ranked Knights from the human kingdoms choose to meet their end in the battle against the beastmen, returning to dust through annihilation in combat. The ancestors, great-grandparents, and grandparents of the Paladin families all died in battle in the Northern Wildlands. Their greatest wish was to press eastward and reclaim the ancestral lands of humanity. Their spirit and will are carved into our bloodlines. We uphold the Supreme Lord’s path of Redemption and have never feared hardship or sacrifice. However, the cruelty of war always exceeds our imagination. Our original intention remains unchanged, but there are some things we must do.’

Victor nodded. ‘I have always held the Radiant Knights and the Temple Army, who protect human territory, in the highest regard.’

‘Only through unity can we achieve victory.’

Howard said with a smile, ‘We must admit that certain ’special’ scholars have played an important role in the war against the beastmen. For example, a few years ago, when we deployed troops to eliminate the claws of the Great Khan of the Blackhoof, we were always able to locate them in the vast wilderness. Otherwise, we might have sacrificed many more people.’

Perhaps only a Paladin would dare to broach the topic of Wizards with a great lord in such a veiled manner. Victor had achieved extraordinary merits in the early stages of the war and had been all but hailed by the Sasan lords as the strongest extraordinary among the secular lords. His influence grew with his prestige. Howard wanted to use the Wizards controlled by the Inquisition to deal with the goblin lord, but such a matter was too sensitive. With Giantstone Fortress just ahead, he had to secure Victor’s support before he could decide on the next phase of their action plan.

The soul quality of alchemical creatures was extremely high, making them nearly immune to all forms of spiritual Wizardry. Hadn’t Victor brought eight Alchemical Soldiers with him for the very purpose of getting a closer look at the Inquisition’s Wizards?

This was what Victor had been waiting for. He extended his hand and said, ‘Then let us reach a tacit understanding on this operation.’

‘As you wish, Cousin Victor.’

Howard reached out and shook Victor’s hand. Clark also placed his hand on top of theirs to show his stance. Then, all three of them turned to look at the bald Sacred Warrior, who wore a profound expression.

Tournans, only half-understanding what was going on, hesitated for a moment before deciding to join them and place his hand on theirs. He would ask Pontiff Clement for clarification once they reached Giantstone Fortress.

Chapter 647: A Public Show of Goodwill

The Giantstone Mountains were a range of towering peaks, their undulating ridges topped by a line of white that stretched for countless miles. Giantstone Fortress was built in a narrow mountain pass, constructed from limestone, appearing as if it had grown out of the mountains themselves, without a single gap.

Victor and his party passed through the lush, mixed forest at the foot of the mountain, trod across the evergreen meadow, and ascended the gentle slope to meet the master of Giantstone Fortress, the King of Naville, His Majesty Rex.

He tore off his bear-fur cloak, which billowed in the wind, and with Naville’s four Gold Knights, strode forward to greet them. “Cousin Victor,” he called out with a hearty smile, “I just knew you’d be the first to arrive and lend your aid. I was right.”

Victor smiled and clapped Rex on the shoulder pauldron. “Did you use my reputation to make a bet with the highnesses of Giantstone Fortress?” he teased. “If you did, you’ll have to split your winnings with me.”

Rex held up three fingers, his face a picture of seriousness. “According to Naville customs, I can only give you thirty percent.”

The two burst out laughing, and only then did the other highnesses exchange pleasantries. After some conversation, Rex led the four legendary powerhouses toward the main gate of Giantstone Fortress. The soldiers in the gatehouse turned the capstans, and with a clang of refined iron chains and a series of creaks and groans, the gate forged from red copper and refined iron slowly rose five meters high.

The group entered in single file. As Caligula passed through the gate, he moved with lightning speed, deliberately ducking his head as if afraid the immensely heavy gate would suddenly fall and crush him into a pulp.

Beyond the gate, there were no buildings to be seen—it was a completely natural valley corridor, dark, damp, and devoid of sunlight. The steep cliffs on either side, however, were another story. Man-made firing platforms had been carved into them, nearly a hundred meters above the ground. At regular intervals, ballistae were positioned with their muzzles aimed downwards, while soldiers armed with heavy crossbows patrolled back and forth on the platforms.

As Victor retracted his gaze, Rex pointed to the cliffs on either side and another gate up ahead, explaining with considerable pride, “These are the famous Death Gates of Giantstone Fortress. The canyon is fourteen kilometers long and has five Death Gates in total. If the beastmen army from the Northern Wildlands attacks the fortress, the garrison at the first line of defense will raise the gate, let a batch of monsters in, and then close it. The archers on both sides will then unleash a torrent of arrows, ensuring they have no escape. The five Death Gates once slaughtered tens of thousands of monsters, while our defenders remained completely unscathed.”

“The last time you visited Naville, Cousin, you didn’t have time to inspect Giantstone Fortress. This time, you have witnessed with your own eyes the most formidable pass in the human kingdoms.”

“Giantstone Fortress only has five Death Gates?” Victor asked in disbelief.

“Haha, you wouldn’t believe how cheaply Giantstone Fortress was built. That’s a miracle in itself,” Rex laughed.

Victor examined the dark green cliff faces, which were covered in slippery moss, and said thoughtfully, “This canyon… it wasn’t carved out by hand, was it?”

“It is the masterpiece of an ancient Archwizard.”

Howard interjected, “It is said that an Archwizard from the ancient City-state of Ayr used his extraordinary powers to cut through the Giantstone Mountains, in order to connect the city-state with the Northern Wildlands. Back then, the Northern Wildlands were a civilized land belonging to the human kingdoms.”

“Twelve hundred years ago, this canyon was an important passage connecting the Theocracy of Ayr to the Iron Mountain Empire. After the fall of the Iron Mountain Empire, the Rex family, with the Church’s help, constructed the five Death Gates, which were used to lure and kill tens of thousands of beastmen monsters. Later, the beastmen got smart and stopped sending themselves to their deaths in the gates.”

The first gate slammed shut behind them, dimming the light in the passage even further. Following Victor’s gaze, Rex looked back and explained, “The Death Gates of Giantstone Fortress have one ironclad rule: from north to south, only one gate opens; from south to north, all five open.”

Howard smiled. “This was the agreement between Testier’s ancestor and Rex’s ancestor. Should the day come when the Radiant Knights retake our ancestral lands, the Rex family will launch a northern expedition, marching its armies out of Giantstone Fortress with all five Death Gates open… It seems the duty of fulfilling our ancestors’ agreement will fall to the two of us.”

Rex chuckled. “It is our honor to witness the decommissioning of the Death Gates.”

A little over three years ago, Testier had personally tried to persuade King Rex, inviting the lord of Naville to lead his troops out of Giantstone Fortress to deal with the Sidon Centaurs together. However, the Kingdom of Naville was less than a third the size of the Sasan Empire. Being dragged into a pioneer war prematurely would have certainly bankrupted the entire kingdom. Rex had flatly refused Testier’s request for troops, only agreeing to trade raw iron for the Sasan Empire’s grain to ensure his kingdom could absorb its population of over seven hundred thousand refugees.

Although the people of Naville had made impressive progress in developing their agriculture, animal husbandry, and water projects, times had changed. Rex had never imagined that the centaurs, masters of guerilla warfare and field battles, would suddenly move west to face the main forces of the Sasan Empire and the Radiant Knights. Now, the elite cavalry of Naville, Sus, Borea, and the Randt Imperial territory, along with the main forces of the Inquisition and the Templars—nearly two hundred thousand strong—were gathered at Giantstone Fortress, preparing to attack the centaur army’s rear. This was tantamount to the southeastern kingdoms pioneering the Northern Wildlands on behalf of the people of Naville, and so Rex’s attitude had done a complete one-eighty.

This was why the King of Naville and his highnesses had gone outside Giantstone Fortress to welcome the Grand Commander and vice-commander of the Radiant Knights, while the Gold Knights of Borea and Sus were nowhere to be seen.

The southern kingdoms had little enthusiasm for this war.

Testier then turned to Victor with a smile. “The Northern Wildlands are vast, our ancestral homeland. Should the lords of the Gambis Kingdom wish to expand northward, they have my support.”

If the Elves hadn’t recalled the Forest Centaurs and Mountain Dwarves, and if the world hadn’t begun to show signs of immense change, the lords of Gambis would have been very interested in carving out territory in the Northern Wildlands. As it stood, the Gambis Kingdom was eager to seize the impassable natural barrier of the Goldwater River and make its mark on the Southern Continent.

In truth, Testier was merely making a statement, a gesture not to be taken seriously. Any southern lord who expanded their territory in the Northern Wildlands would, over time, inevitably be absorbed into the northern political sphere constructed by the Sasan Empire, the Ironmount Royal Family, and the Kingdom of Naville. They would no longer be considered nobles of their home kingdom.

Right now, no family was willing to divide its strength.

“I will consider it in the future,” Victor said with a smile. In another twenty years, his fleet would be able to sail north along the coastline, land on the eastern shores of the Northern Wildlands, and establish colonies for the Gambis Empire. The Centralized Allotted Land System would ensure the imperial central authority maintained effective control over its colonies. At the very least, it was far more effective than the feudal system.

After passing through five treacherous Death Gates in succession, the scenery suddenly opened up. A valley embraced by mountains basked in the gentle sunlight. Mountain streams and waterfalls converged into a slow-moving river, flanked by fields of golden wheat. Countless farmers wielded sickles, working hard to harvest the full-eared Spelt. Surrounding the fields was a town without walls or moats. Its buildings were all orderly, simple, and practical, emphasizing capacity and durability—barracks, warehouses, and craftsmen’s workshops. With the neighing of warhorses and the bustle of soldiers, it was clearly a large, fully equipped military camp.

At the far end of the camp stood a peculiar structure with a conspicuous, tall, cylindrical tower that puffed out a pale blue smoke, characteristic of burning charcoal.

Testier stopped to gaze at it from afar. After a moment, he said, “Your Majesty Rex, you’ve built your giant brick kilns all the way out here…”

Rex roared with laughter. “Naville has many mines but few people. Only with the help of the Iron bricks invented in the Centaur Hills can we rapidly construct defensive fortifications and strong towns in the Northern Wildlands.”

Testier turned his head to Victor. “If the Sasan Empire had purchased the brick kiln and brick-making technology from the Centaur Hills earlier, I might not have needed to light the red smoke beacons.”

Victor shrugged. “Then the situation in this war would be very different.”

Tournans cut in, “Let’s get a move on. We shouldn’t keep His Eminence Clement waiting.”

With that, he clasped his hands behind his back and led the way toward the Church in the center of the military camp. Victor led his retinue and followed.

Outside the Church, several High-ranked Knights with powerful auras were already waiting. One of them, dressed in the standard-issue Mithril armor of the Church, stepped forward from the group and gave a solemn salute to both Testier and Victor. “Lester Trigovar of the religious inquisition pays his respects to Grand Commander Testier and vice-commander Testier.”

Before the two commanders of the Radiant Knights could return the salute, Tournans let out a soft “Hmph” from the side.

The Paladin, whose features were sharply defined and whose eyes were grim, had no choice but to salute him as well.

“Brother Lester Trigovar, may the light of our Lord illuminate your path.”

The bald-headed Sacred Warrior, with a solemnity befitting an Archbishop, made the introduction for Victor. “His Highness Randell, this is the Chief of the religious inquisition, Brother Lester of the Trigoval family… oh, I mean, Your Excellency… His Excellency Lester Trigovar.”

“His Highness Randell single-handedly slayed three Gold-rank beastmen leaders on the eastern defensive line, an extraordinary military achievement. On behalf of the religious inquisition, I extend my highest respects to Your Highness. May the supreme Lord of Radiance bless you,” Trigovar said, the cold lines of his face melting like frozen earth in a spring breeze, his smile warm and pleasant.

The Inquisition held the authority to sanction both clergy and secular lords. Minor lords and nobles turned pale at its mention, not even daring to speak the name Trigovar at private gatherings, referring to him only as the Inquisitor-General. But from Victor’s current standing, he could clearly feel that the Inquisition’s function was increasingly aligning with the needs of the great nobles.

The most obvious example was when Victor spent a fortune building the Randell Cathedral to enhance the House of Randell’s political influence and borrow the Church’s divine arts. Both the Monastery and the Templars had sent representatives to station themselves at Randell Cathedral, but there had been no movement from the Inquisition. It seemed that unless an undeniable incident involving Wizards broke out in the Randell Fief, the Inquisition would not send anyone to be permanently stationed there.

It also hadn’t been the Inquisition that presided over the purification of the Wizard Will at Black Fortress. In fact, as the Knight-Nobles had gradually gained control over the Church, the Inquisition’s position had quietly shifted, transforming it into a collaborator with the great lords.

Nobles who lost political struggles were often branded with crimes by the Inquisition and exiled to the Eastern Alliance, reduced to tools for the procreation of the knight’s bloodline. Trigovar and the priests of the Holy Mountain secretly ran this human trafficking business, and even Victor himself had bought dozens of children with a knight’s bloodline from the Eastern Alliance. At least half of the funds earned by the Trigoval family flowed to the Radiant Knights and the Sasan Empire, serving as military funds for the defense against the beastmen.

Furthermore, the secret that Trigovar was harboring Wizards had gradually come into Victor’s line of sight. But from a rational perspective, Trigovar’s—or rather, the Radiant Knights’—ambiguous policy toward harboring Wizards met practical needs. Since the turmoil of the Pantheon, Wizard organizations had not run rampant in the human kingdoms. On the contrary, academia and the divine arts had seen many proud achievements.

If Victor were in Testier’s shoes, he would have done the same.

In the stable pyramid of the political structure, the House of Randell and the Inquisition both occupied the upper echelons, their overall positions aligned. Although Trigovar secretly controlled Wizards, Victor did not believe Trigovar was connected to the several assassination attempts against him by Wizards.

However, the Wizardry of Wizards was mysterious and unpredictable, and Trigovar might not have the ability to make them bow their heads in submission without dissent. As extraordinary beings, once Wizards had organization and a legacy, their horizons would broaden, and they would inevitably seek a place for themselves in the power structure of the human kingdoms. Yet, the established ruling class, including both knightly lords and the clergy, would not tolerate the development of a political force by Wizards.

Who knew what they were capable of? It was even possible they could climb to the apex of the pyramid, suppressing both Knights and clergy beneath them.

The only strategy for dealing with Wizards was to use the knight’s bloodline to integrate them into the nobility. If Trigovar could not accommodate all members of a Wizard organization, they would have to periodically purge a batch of restless Wizards, have the secular lords of the Paladin families integrate a batch of obedient ones, leaving a final batch loyal to the Inquisition.

These Wizards were the most troublesome. They could not see the light of day and had no path for advancement, so they could only immerse themselves in enhancing their Wizardry and studying the Laws of the world. This made them particularly susceptible to the temptations of Devils.

Victor was certain that the masterminds behind the attempts on his life were extraordinary existences like Devils or evil gods, who had used Wizards to carry out multiple assassinations. The mysterious assassin in the Giantwood Forest, in particular, had displayed extraordinary abilities with traces of divine arts. He was likely a God-favored of some evil god. When he fled, he had deliberately revealed the Shadow Council to Victor. His intent to frame them was obvious, but he had successfully left Victor a clue.

The clue of the Shadow Council President would clearly have to be pursued through Trigovar. This might have been the mysterious assassin’s goal, but Victor had no intention of stopping. When the enemy is hidden and you are in the open, the only way to see their scheme is to lure the snake from its hole. Victor was fully confident in his ability to control the situation; the destiny’s favor brought by his immense prestige was a trump card against fate’s interference.

Victor’s sharp gaze swept over everyone present, from far to near, finally landing on Trigovar. His eyes were deep as he said, “For this decapitation strike against the Goblin lords in the Northern Wildlands, I hope to fight alongside Inquisitor-General Trigovar.”

Trigovar and Testier were both greatly surprised. A Gold-rank Earth Paladin would not be of much help in a stealthy decapitation mission, and Trigovar had not been planning to participate. They didn’t know Victor was trying to flush out the snake and were perplexed by the abrupt suggestion.

The Inquisitor-General and the Grand Commander exchanged glances for half a second before Trigovar nodded. “Trigovar will do his duty without hesitation.”

X-3 detected no abnormalities in the people around them, but Victor didn’t mind. He believed the Wizards would have their ways of learning about his conversation with Trigovar.

His smile was full of goodwill as he nodded. “When we complete our mission, I will be sure to host a banquet in your honor, Your Excellency. We can have a proper chat then.”

Trigovar was completely bewildered. The Inquisition wasn’t exactly beloved, and their work was often unsavory. Even if a great lord wanted to use the Inquisition against a political rival, they wouldn’t make such a brazenly open show of goodwill to Trigovar.

Trigovar had heard that Victor could kill Gold-rank Gnolls and severely wound an Ogre Warlord from several kilometers away. It would be no difficult task for him to slay the Goblin lords.

The Gold-Eyed Earl has a use for the Inquisition and is deliberately giving me a share of the credit… he mused inwardly. Without hesitation, he smiled. “I will certainly attend Your Highness’s banquet.”

Whether Victor’s interaction with the Inquisitor-General had frightened any Wizards with malicious intent was not yet known, but it had certainly caught the attention of several Gold Knights.

Only Tournans remained oblivious, properly introducing Emperor Neo Wester of the Randt Imperial territory, His Highness Chris of the Kingdom of Sus, and Grand Duke Peter of the Kingdom of Borea.

Victor had met with Neo Wester in private before, but both pretended it was their first meeting. When Victor exchanged greetings with Grand Duke Peter, however, he couldn’t help but give the man a second look.

It was Grand Duke Peter’s eldest son, Raymond, who had sent assassins to kill Victor and had also instructed the Masked Brotherhood to cause trouble for Sophia.

Victor had reason to believe Raymond was a representative of the Shadow Council, as it was unlikely Grand Duke Peter could mobilize Wizards to participate in the underground war between the Southwind Merchant Association and the Wimbledon Merchant Association. The Shadow Council was beyond Trigovar’s control and would not accept orders from Grand Duke Peter.

The Peter family was in no position to protect a Wizard organization that had betrayed the religious inquisition.

Grand Duke Peter frowned to himself, watching as Victor and the others entered the Church. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind, but on the surface, he remained nonchalantly waiting where he stood.

Victor’s party entered the Church and saw Pontiff Clement, dressed in the white robes of a priest. He was hale and hearty, with a gentle disposition. He nodded to Victor and said, “Now that you’re here, I can rest easy.”

The Pontiff had always been the Pope’s deputy, the vice-regent of the Holy See. In terms of status, Clement was even above Testier. But he was experiencing the most difficult period of his political career. If the human kingdoms won this war without him using the Great Divination, he would remain His Eminence the Pontiff. If not, he would have to step down from the Pontiff’s throne, and the line of priests loyal to him would suffer a crushing defeat.

Secular lords needed the support of the clergy, and the clergy likewise needed the support of the secular lords. Clement was without a doubt a crucial ally for the Centaur Hills.

Back when Victor and Sylvia had nothing, they had undertaken an astonishing water project. Clement had gone against the consensus and lent the York family one million Gold Sols, a debt that still hadn’t been fully repaid. Their alliance began from that time.

Many of Victor’s plans relied on Clement’s support, so he certainly wouldn’t stand by and watch his ally fall. Besides, Father Miller had already made it clear that he would not perform the Great Divination again.

And how could Clement’s Great Divination possibly be used for a war of northern expansion?

“Your Eminence, I will do my utmost!” Victor said solemnly.

“I have no doubt of that.” Clement gave a gratified smile and nodded. “I will preside over a prayer ceremony for you.”

After the prayers were done, Testier looked around and said in a serious tone, “Time is short. We will convene a meeting at once and invite the highnesses of the southern kingdoms to discuss the war plan together.”

Victor shook his head with a smile. “I’m going to get some rest. I won’t be attending the meeting. Just have someone notify me when it’s time to depart.”

“As you wish, Cousin Victor,” Testier said, gesturing with an elegant smile.

Rex also nodded. “Very well. I’ve prepared temporary quarters for you. I’ll have someone take you there now.”

“I’ll take my leave then.”

After leaving the Church, Victor followed an attendant knight of the King of Naville to a detached villa on the west side of the camp. He then ordered water to be boiled and a meal prepared, so that the Alchemical Soldiers could eat their fill and restore their stamina to peak condition. Caligula very happily accepted this task, grabbing a large sack full of wild jerboas and trotting cheerfully into the kitchen.

Caligula had a talent for cooking. His portions were always generous, though it did take him a little longer.

Victor estimated it would be another two hours before he could eat the food Aka prepared, so he decided to return to his bedroom for a short nap first.

After a forced march of two days and one night without sleep, Victor felt that something was off if he didn’t lie down for a bit.

He walked into the bedroom and had just taken off his jacket when he heard Narsen coming up to the second floor, announcing through the wooden door:

“My lord, Grand Duke Peter of the Kingdom of Borea is here to see you.”

Chapter 648: Forced Marriage Proposal

Victor was a bit stunned. He ran an X-3 search of his memory for information on the Kingdom of Borea and Duke Peter.

The Borrey United Kingdom had no king; it was ruled in rotation by five ducal families. The ruler was called the Grand Duke, serving a thirty-six-year term as a symbol of the kingdom’s leadership, wielding the power to convene the Council of Elders and bearing the responsibility of repelling the Gogen barbarians. Duke Peter was the current ruler of the Kingdom of Borea.

Victor had crossed paths with the Peter family on three occasions. The first time, Raymond Peter had sent someone to assassinate Moon Elf bloodline nobles, an affair that had entangled Victor. The second time, the Peter family, representing the Kingdom of Borea, had attempted to force Sophia into submission to monopolize trade with the barbarians. The third time, Victor had ordered Quicksilver to orchestrate an attack on Raymond Peter, successfully planting a mole by his side.

In terms of political interests, the Borean lords wanted to extend their reach into Lake Fies, while Victor was scheming for a sea outlet at the Great Borean Bend. This could lead to conflict, but it could also lead to a truce; it all depended on the process of their political game.

A Gold Knight was a man of his word, the one who made the final decision. If Grand Duke Peter had come to lobby Victor on behalf of the Kingdom of Borea’s southern expansion strategy, it seemed far too rash. The normal procedure would be for noble envoys to first test the waters and exchange ideas. Only when negotiations were nearing their end would a Guardian step forward to conclude the alliance. Besides, the timing was all wrong.

Victor couldn’t be bothered to guess anymore. He called out to Narsen, who was waiting outside the door, “Please show Duke Peter to the reception room. I will be there shortly.”

Narsen acknowledged the order and turned to go downstairs. Once the sound of his and Duke Peter’s footsteps ceased within the reception room, Victor finished dressing and, under the protection of two Alchemical Soldiers, walked toward the room.

The two met and exchanged greetings. Victor invited Duke Peter to sit, saying politely, “Forgive me for not coming out to greet you, Your Majesty.”

Duke Peter looked to be in his thirties, with brown hair so dark it was nearly black and amber eyes. His aura was reserved and subtle, but his bearing was composed and magnanimous, exuding the charm of a mature man. He replied with a hint of apology, “It is I who have been presumptuous, arriving in such a breach of etiquette.”

Victor smiled faintly and said casually, “Grand Commander Testier is currently holding a military mobilization meeting. His Majesty Peter is absent; he must be quite displeased.”

“I have already authorized Earl Bolton to serve as the supreme commander of the Kingdom of Borea’s reinforcements, and he will attend the military meeting convened by Grand Commander Testier. In fact, His Highness Chris of the Kingdom of Sus and I must hurry to the Twilight Forest line of defense tonight. It makes no difference whether we attend the meeting or not,” Duke Peter explained.

“Oh? Does that mean the Highnesses of the two great kingdoms, Sus and Borea, will not be participating in the military operations in the Northern Wildlands?” Victor asked, a little surprised.

Peter nodded. “The Church has lit the red smoke beacons, and the remaining ten thousand or so soldiers of the Temple Army on the Twilight Forest front have all been transferred to the Giantstone Fortress war zone by the Radiant Knights. We and the lords of Sus have scraped together another forty-five thousand elite reinforcements. Now, the forces on the Twilight Forest front are stretched thin, and the Gnolls in the forest are growing restless. Duke Meiding has ordered a temporary abandonment of the pioneering outposts in the forest to consolidate our lines, and he has requested emergency aid from the High-ranked Knights of the Kingdom of Borea. All of our kingdom’s Highnesses must take turns garrisoning the Twilight Forest front.”

“The difficulties are temporary; I trust the Radiant Knights can understand our position. Besides, my wife is also a descendant of Sword Saint Draven. According to the records of heraldry, I suppose that makes me a relative of His Highness Testier. He won’t be angry with me over such a small matter,” Duke Peter said in a jesting tone.

According to Wimbledon family heraldry, Victor would have to call Duke Peter his uncle-in-law.

Moon Elf bloodline nobles were deeply favored by High-ranked Knights, and the Wimbledon family had spread its branches far and wide. No matter where Victor went, someone was claiming kinship. He couldn’t help but feel a little exasperated.

Duke Peter did not let Victor’s awkwardness linger. He adopted a serious expression and said, “Compared to Howard, I am more worried about incurring the wrath of His Highness Randell.”

Victor showed no sign of surprise or confusion, waiting calmly for him to continue.

Duke Peter saw no hint of anything on Victor’s handsome face and sighed inwardly before speaking truthfully, “My eldest son, Raymond, once committed a foolish act—a very grave crime.”

“Seven years ago, Raymond dispatched an assassin to kill the Moon Elf nobles of the various kingdoms, resulting in the tragic deaths of at least two nobles. Among them was the partner chosen by the Queen of Sus, as well as the marriage partner of the Blue Dawn Sparrow family, who was also Raymond’s cousin, Michelle. By the time I learned that Raymond was the mastermind behind Michelle’s murder, the terrible mistake had already been made. I imprisoned Raymond and ordered his assassin brought back to the family, intending to investigate the matter further. At that time, the assassin had already reached Vistock in the Gambis Kingdom. His next target was you, Your Highness.”

Victor now confirmed that he had indeed alerted the enemy, startling Duke Peter.

Since Raymond’s assassination plot was connected to Wizards, and Victor had already planted a mole by Raymond’s side, he hadn’t planned on calling the Peter family to account. But since Duke Peter had delivered himself to Victor’s doorstep, he had to at least follow up on the topic.

“And then?” Victor asked coolly.

And then? I should be asking you… I’d like to know, did the Throat-slitter ever try to assassinate you?

Since Victor didn’t take the bait, Duke Peter had no choice but to continue. “The Kingdom of Borea is too far from the Gambis Kingdom. Even if I had dispatched my family’s Knights to Gambis to capture the assassin at that time, it would have been too late. I utilized the assassin’s own criminal guild, sending a message via messenger raven to have the guild’s members in the Kingdom of Sus go to Gambis and stop the assassination.”

“The assassin killed one of the guild members and disappeared before the others could capture him. He has not been heard from since.”

Duke Peter paused, then said frankly, “After the assassin escaped, I should have promptly informed the Queen of Roses so she could take precautions. But shortly thereafter, Your Highness defeated Great Knight Austin, who had invaded the Randell Fief and was hunting your family’s heir. This news reached the Borrey United Kingdom before I even received word that the attempt to capture the assassin had failed.”

“Your Highness had demonstrated Silver-rank strength, so it was clear you would not be assassinated by a mere killer. Since Gambis had just lost a Great Knight, I was worried that the matter of an assassin targeting Moon Elf bloodline nobles would be used to stir up trouble. To avoid being drawn into the internal disputes of Gambis, I chose to suppress the matter and did not send anyone to inform Your Highness.”

With that, Duke Peter stood up, placed a hand over his chest, and apologized, “This was my error. The Peter family is willing to pay the House of Randell seven hundred pounds of high-grade Adamantine as compensation. However, I hope we can be allowed to pay it over six years.”

Forging a standard suit of knight’s armor required only half a pound of Adamantine. Seventy pounds could make one hundred and forty sets of Adamantine armor, or even more Adamantine weapons. A quantity of seven hundred pounds could no longer be measured by money, as it was simply impossible to buy that much on the market.

Duke Peter was still uncertain whether the assassin sent by Raymond had actually attempted to assassinate Randell, but he had directly offered a huge sum in compensation.

Victor, however, said calmly, “My lord Duke, if you wish for me to accept this compensation, please answer a few of my questions first.”

The Gold Knight had shown his sincerity in seeking reconciliation, adopting an extremely humble posture, yet the Gold-Eyed Earl had not provided a symmetrical response. Duke Peter considered this only natural. He sat back down and nodded. “Please ask, Your Highness.”

“Why did your eldest son want to assassinate Moon Elf bloodline nobles?”

Peter mulled it over for a moment before speaking. “Sword Saint Draven dominated an entire era. The power, bloodline, and charm of a Sun Elf were things that all people admired and envied. As the first Sun Elf in human history, His Majesty Draven Wimbledon was naturally an object of study for all the major powers. However, before the rise of His Highness Randell, Draven was the only example of a Sun Elf, and most of the scholarly research on him was nothing more than baseless speculation.”

“At that time, including Draven, there were only four nobles with elven bloodlines in all the human kingdoms. Three of them died one after another, leaving His Majesty Draven as the sole Moon Elf noble of his time. His bloodline mutation began around then.”

“Therefore, there was a rumor, not recognized by academia, that the singularity of the Sun Elf was the root cause of the Moon Elf bloodline mutation.”

Pure scholars could often break the shackles of social rules, casting aside moral and legal interference to arrive at strange and insane ideas. This speculation surprisingly aligned with Victor’s own theories on Biological Aberrations.

Duke Peter glanced at Victor before continuing, “Of course, the existence of Your Highness has shattered this wicked rumor. The current academic consensus is that the will and gender of a Spirit Knight are the true crucible for hatching a Sun Elf.”

Victor raised a pair of long, straight eyebrows and pursued with interest, “Oh? And what do they say?”

“First, the Sun Elf must be male. Second, the Spirit Knight must be female, and she must treat the Moon Elf bloodline noble as her husband, and not… a pet.”

Victor paused, then burst out laughing. “They’re using Sylvia and me as an example.”

Duke Peter cleared his throat and said with a smile, “Draven and Empress Verodica are also examples. Draven, with the power of a Wind Whisper Elf, became the most renowned Ranger of his time and was the dream lover of countless noble young ladies. This included Verodica Baselius, before she manifested her identity as a Spirit Knight. She once expressed to her companions at high-society gatherings that she wanted to marry Draven Wimbledon and have twins with him. Later, Empress Verodica got her wish.”

Knights were naturally proud and often assumed a Spirit Knight could dominate a Sun Elf. In reality, Sylvia was as gentle as water before Victor. Their life as a couple was perfectly harmonious, and Victor always found a sense of fulfillment as a husband with his Spirit Knight.

Of course, the intimate details of his relationship with Sylvia could not be shared with outsiders. Victor steered the conversation back on track, his dark gold, heterochromatic eyes fixed on Duke Peter as he asked with a piercing gaze:

“I recall that Duchess Joshua, Raymond’s mother, is also a noblewoman with a manifested Moon Elf bloodline. Could it be that Raymond intended to commit matricide for the sake of the ethereal Sun Elf bloodline? Were there other factors behind his loss of reason?”

Duke Peter’s expression grew stern. He said in a deep voice, “I conducted an in-depth investigation into this, lasting three years and twelve months. All suspicion pointed to Raymond’s steward… He has already paid for his mistake with his death, and I promised him I would not mention his name or family surname again… Moon Elf bloodline nobles are generally weak. Like most of them, Raymond admired the ancestor Draven. As the eldest son of the Peter family, he bore the pressure of inheriting the family and yearned for power. As his father, I praised his pursuit of strength, which inadvertently indulged his desires. That steward catered to his master’s requests, collecting many of the Sword Saint’s inheritances and legends, including, of course, that absurd rumor.”

“After Michelle and the Queen of Sus’s lover were killed one after another, the steward suspected Raymond might be responsible. He came to me of his own accord to confess everything and cooperated with my detailed investigation, including submitting to a priest’s examination, but no traces of Wizardry were found on him.”

“It all seemed to be solely Raymond’s mistake… The investigation hit a dead end, and the steward chose to commit suicide to atone for his sins. Raymond was also reprimanded by me and exiled by the family to a squad that raids the Gogen barbarians. He participated in over twenty infiltration missions into the Southern Continent over a period of two years. I had hoped he would die like a warrior, but he survived and even awakened the Wind Walk talent. At the same time, I won the forgiveness of the Queen of Sus and Michelle’s family. Raymond was allowed to return to the Seven Great Islands, but he lost his inheritance rights to the Peter family. He can only marry into another family, which is tantamount to being disowned by me.”

Ever since the Church and the great lords of the kingdoms had jointly signed the New Covenant of Light, even if a Knight-Noble committed the most heinous of crimes, the punishment was limited to lifelong exile or imprisonment. This was because life in this world was truly unequal; a knight’s bloodline was vital to the survival of the kingdom. If a noble was imprisoned for life, their voice would go unheard and their will could not be passed on. To human society as a whole, these criminal prisoner nobles were no different from being dead.

Duke Peter had sent the frail Raymond Peter to participate in military operations against the Southern Barbarians for two long years, which could be considered a punishment even harsher than exile. Duke Peter’s claim that he hoped his eldest son would die on the Southern Continent was likely not an exaggeration. At the very least, in such extremely perilous battles, the Peter family would not have been able to protect Raymond’s safety indefinitely.

Victor tapped the armrest of the solid wood chair. After a moment, he asked again, “Has the Inquisition also forgiven Raymond for his crimes?”

This question was a trap. Victor’s subtext was:

I know the Inquisition knows about Raymond assassinating Moon Elf nobles. Do you think Trigovar hasn’t told me more? Do you want to try and see the price for deceiving me?

In reality, Victor truly wanted to know if the Inquisition was aware.

Duke Peter’s expression remained placid. His tone was light, but his words were vague. “…I paid a certain price, including giving a Moon Elf noble who had awakened the Wind Walk talent to the Kingdom of Sus. By the way, there is one more thing. Before the steward confessed to me, Paladins of the Inquisition secretly tried to capture a Wizard, but their operation seems to have failed. There were signs that the Wizard died a violent death on the spot, and even his body was not intact.”

His insinuation was: I have always suspected that Raymond’s change was related to a Wizard. Why don’t you guess if the mastermind behind this was the Inquisition?

A smile played on Victor’s lips as he asked with “curiosity,” “Was the Gold Potion really invented by a Borean Potion Master?”

“Of course.”

Duke Peter also smiled and shook his head. “We could never figure out how the Church learned of such a secretive matter. And His Holiness Clement is a bit too biased, to think he would give the Gold Potion formula directly to the York family.”

Victor said with a grin, “Without Sophia’s support, what use would the Gold Potion formula be to the Kingdom of Borea? You caused the Wimbledon Merchant Association heavy losses just to control the import channels for the ingredients. If the fight were to continue, I’m afraid all the kingdoms would find out about the Gold Potion… How many more would have to die then?”

Duke Peter nodded. “We should thank Pope Clement. He gave the Kingdom of Borea and Gambis a shared secret and a common interest.”

“Some time ago, Raymond had a conflict with Jacob of the Blue Dawn Sparrow family on the Twilight Forest front… Duke Meiding captured Jacob, but Marchioness Wimbledon intervened, so he released him. I want to emphasize one point here: the Peter family has already paid the price for Raymond’s mistake. He now has no connection to the Peter family. Raymond killed Jacob’s lover; if Jacob seeks revenge against him, I will certainly not demand an explanation from Gambis on Raymond’s behalf. Because this is a matter for the Kingdom of Sus.”

“If Jacob had killed Raymond then, we would have simply had to pick another offspring to marry into the Sus Royal Family.”

“Duke Meiding asked me to convey two sentences to Your Highness on his behalf. The marriage partner for Raymond can change, but the marriage alliance between Sus and Borea will not. If Princess Celine Eleanor could serve His Majesty Randell, it would be the greatest honor for the Eleanor family and the Meding family.”

That slightly ditzy, forge-loving Celine was the first royal princess to formally court Victor, only to be rejected. Before she left the Centaur Hills, she had declared that she would become a Silver Knight and then seek him out again.

Victor’s reason for rejecting Celine was simple: he had too many secrets and kept all potential lovers who could not be completely loyal to him at arm’s length. Conversely, Victor would never allow any of his partners to fall into the arms of another. At the time, Celine had stated clearly that she could only accompany Victor for twenty years, after which she would return to the Kingdom of Sus as a free woman.

Things were different now. The Kingdom of Sus was willing to offer Princess Celine to Victor as a gift, meaning she would have no legal standing by his side. Although it was called a gift, it was another form of marriage alliance. The lords of Sus were simply asking that Gambis no longer interfere with their relationship with the Kingdom of Borea.

It seemed the Alchemical militia responsible for attacking Raymond Peter had left a deep impression on the Meding family. They had assumed that Aerie Fortress had planned the attack and that the assailants were all secret art death commandos trained by the Auguste family.

Victor now understood. Duke Peter hadn’t come to apologize for his son; he had come to act as a matchmaker. The people of Sus had the great treasury of the Twilight Forest and were not particularly enthusiastic about northern or southern expansion. The Kingdom of Borea, on the other hand, was like Gambis; its only path for development was the Southern Continent, but the medicinal herbs of the Arreat Plateau were equally important. The Five Great Families of Borea could not bypass the support of the Kingdom of Sus under any circumstances, because the Sus people controlled vital trade routes and shipbuilding timber.

The Kingdom of Borea had to have a marriage alliance with Sus; this relationship had been maintained for centuries. The Borean lords also wanted an alliance with Gambis, but they knew a formal marriage alliance of sufficient weight was impossible. The Gambis Kingdom had just formed its political structure of a royal family and a queen’s family. If the Boreans tried to form a marriage alliance with His Majesty Edward Auguste, they would only be soundly rejected, and sending a lover to the young king seemed useless. Thus, the Five Great Families of Borea began to set their sights on the Gold-Eyed Earl, and Princess Celine of the Kingdom of Borea was an excellent candidate.

His Highness Randell had publicly opposed the Borean fleet entering the waters of Lake Fies. If he were to turn around and accept the courtship of a Borean noblewoman and then change his stance, what would become of his reputation as the Protector of the Kingdom?

Celine was a princess of Sus, noble yet not a sensitive figure, and she had shared a hint of ambiguity with Victor in the past. If she could establish a partner relationship with Victor, then the Meding family of Sus, the Peter family of Borea, and the Randall family of Gambis would become relatives by marriage, forming a new political landscape.

The Kingdom of Sus had no energy for southern expansion. Duke Meiding had likely been forced by the military pressure on the Twilight Forest front to reluctantly agree to sacrifice a purple-eyed noblewoman in exchange for Borean military aid. That was why he had merely asked Duke Peter to pass on the message, unwilling to show his own face.

Victor decided to be blunt. “My lord Duke, you are being too hasty. In naval power, Borea is strong while Gambis is weak. If there is no balance between us, how could I possibly feel secure letting the Borean fleet sail freely in the waters of Lake Fies? The Southern Continent is vast and boundless; how much of it can Gambis even digest? Once our fleet is established, we will naturally invite the Kingdom of Borea to jointly deal with the Gogen barbarians of the Southern Continent. Don’t you agree?”

Duke Peter smiled. “Our Kingdom of Borea has no intention of vying for hegemony over Lake Fies. But since Gambis wants Lake Fies, then our joint effort with Gambis to deal with the threat of the Gogen barbarians must have a beginning. What do you think, Your Highness?”

Lake Fies is yours, I don’t want it. But you’re unwilling to forge a marriage alliance of the three southern kingdoms. So is Gambis going to help us deal with the Gogen barbarians or not? If you’re not in a hurry, I am.

Victor’s head began to throb. Duke Peter had brazenly come in person to act as a go-between for Princess Celine, speaking with such humility. If Victor didn’t give him a clear answer today, he would probably leak the secret of the Gold Potion.

If Gambis wouldn’t even let the Boreans cross the river for southern expansion, what use did they have for the Gold Potion? They could sell it to the Radiant Knights and gain the support of the Paladin families for their own expansion south of the river.

Pushed into a corner, Victor said with some annoyance, “We are in the middle of a war, and you’re talking to me about this?”

Duke Peter calmly retorted, “Neither you nor I are attending the military conference presided over by Grand Commander Testier. If we don’t talk about this, what should we talk about? Or is His Majesty Randell unwilling to be the secular leader of the southern expansion lords?”

“Princess Celine has never forgotten His Majesty Randell. She is currently being held in her family’s castle by Duke Meiding. Otherwise, she would probably have already gone to the Centaur Hills to demand an explanation from His Majesty.”

Celine? Raymond Peter infiltrated the Southern Continent with the Borean Knights, survived for two years raiding the Gogen barbarians, and even awakened the Wind Walk talent. He is clearly deeply entangled with that Shadow Council. If Celine marries him, her situation is easy to imagine. Should I lend her a hand? Never mind, this is too troublesome. I’ll let Sylvia figure something out.

Victor hesitated for a moment, then asked, “When is Raymond’s wedding scheduled?”

“After the war is over.” A satisfied smile finally appeared on Duke Peter’s face.

Victor shook his head and said with a wry smile, “Please have Princess Celine take the Adamantine offered by My lord Duke as compensation, make a trip to the Centaur Hills, and deliver it to Sylvia in person.”

Duke Peter stood up and laughed heartily. “Excellent! It’s settled then… The affection between Your Highness and Lady Sylvia is truly enviable… In that case, I shall take my leave. I wish His Highness Randell’s arrows a full drink of the Goblin Lord’s blood.”

“A safe journey, Your Highness Peter. I won’t see you out,” Victor said, his face dark.

Chapter 649: Human and Inhuman

When a family or a kingdom accumulates power to its absolute limit, it will either launch a war of external expansion for more territory, or it will experience internal conflict, leading to an outflow of knight-nobles, population, wealth, and even advanced technology to other kingdoms.

This situation was particularly severe in the Borrey United Kingdom.

In the seven hundred-plus years since the Boreans established their kingdom, all the land that could be developed had been developed, and all the potential that could be tapped had been tapped. The Five Great Families occupied five of the Seven Great Islands. The other two islands were nominally public lands of the kingdom, under the jurisdiction of the Senate, but in reality, they were still controlled by the Five Great Families.

The new families of the United Kingdom were squeezed onto the riverbanks of the Great River Bend’s North Shore. But the fertile riverbanks had been carved up centuries ago, and any further expansion meant venturing into the worthless sea of Devil Grass. A family that pioneered that land was no different from an exile.

In contrast, the Kingdom of Sus, with a history of only nine hundred-plus years, had seen its lords tirelessly pioneer the Twilight Forest to the north, more than doubling the kingdom’s territory. The people of Sus were still developing the north to this day, and among these pioneers were many who were once the children of nobility from the Borrey Kingdom.

Through marriage alliances, the Kingdom of Sus had consistently absorbed fresh blood from the Borrey United Kingdom. It had already become a trend for the children of nobles from the Great River Bend’s North Shore to go to Sus to realize their ambitions. And were not the knightly children of the North Shore families simply the bloodlines that had flowed out from the Five Great Ruling Families?

Not a vassal’s vassal—this rather ironic saying encapsulated the relationship between Borrey and Sus.

The great lords of Borrey were eager to change their kingdom’s overflowing state, and the expansion south of the river was their only option. Ninety years after the failure of their first southern expansion, His Highness Andre of the Borrey Kingdom attempted a marriage alliance with the princess of Gambis. Although his goal was to forge an alliance between the two nations to jointly pioneer the Southern Continent, a Gold Knight marrying into another family was enough to reveal the mentality of Borrey’s great lords.

Now, nearly every kingdom had a direction for expansion and had formulated an executable plan. Only the Borrey Kingdom’s expansion strategy could not be implemented, because their negotiations with Gambis had stalled.

This time, the Church had lit the red smoke beacons, nominally calling on the lords of the various kingdoms to jointly resist the centaur invaders. Yet the outcome of the war was foreseeably a major breakthrough for the northern expansion strategy.

This severely pricked the sensitive nerves of the Boreans.

Grand Duke Peter felt the pressure from within his kingdom, and he passed this pressure directly on to Victor.

However, how much of a difference could the Boreans make by sending the little princess of the Sus Kingdom to the Gold-Eyed Earl as a gift?

The answer to that question depended on one’s interpretation. For Victor, the hegemony of Lake Fies was absolutely not something he would relinquish. It wouldn’t matter if it was one Princess Celine; even if the Queen of Sus herself came, it would be useless. Besides, once anything good fell into Sylvia’s pocket, you could forget about her ever taking it out again.

Celine was Sylvia’s niece and possessed the rare purple-eyed bloodline. The offspring of a purple-eyed noblewoman and a Sun Elf was something everyone could look forward to. Aerie Fortress already had Marchioness Sophia Wimbledon, but having Celine.York in the Centaur Hills would please Sylvia even more.

Perhaps Duke Peter, seeing this very point, had specifically chosen the daughter of Duke Meiding and the Queen of Sus.

Whether Celine could knock open the gates to the Elemental Sea and become a half-goldenized Raging Wave Knightess remained to be seen, but with her purple-eyed bloodline, she could certainly squeeze into the core circle of the Centaur Hills and exert her influence. Moreover, Celine had not been fostered in the York family since childhood. She harbored a fondness for the Kingdom of Sus, would consider its interests, and could fully realize the function of a political marriage alliance. Borrey and Sus had been linked by marriage for generations. If Gambis had a Princess Celine, the great lords of Gambis could invite Borean scholars and generals to help train their family navies.

This was undoubtedly the beginning of a new paradigm for southern expansion constructed by Borrey, Sus, and Gambis.

In the short term, Celine joining the York family was the result of Duke Peter’s efforts. He was sending a clear political signal to the lords of Borrey:

Our plan to cooperate with Gambis on southern expansion has made substantive progress.

This would help stabilize the morale of the Borean lords and enhance the cohesion of the kingdom’s nobility, preventing those knightly children guarding the Twilight Forest defensive line from throwing themselves completely into the arms of the Kingdom of Sus.

Doing nothing was the worst possible option.

Grand Duke Peter’s move seemed minor, but it could soothe the restless emotions of the Borean nobles. Victor, however, was very frustrated. Even though Peter had apologized profusely and even acted as a matchmaker for Victor and Princess Celine, it didn’t change the fact that he had forced His Highness Randall’s hand.

Victor’s political influence in the Gambis Kingdom was growing by the day, and no one opposed the Lake Fies strategy he had formulated. But his diplomatic experience was still lacking; he had never anticipated that a Gold Knight would, right to his face, roll up his sleeves and flip the table.

On second thought, for the sake of their southern expansion, the Borrey Kingdom’s Gold Knight Andre was even willing to marry into the Auguste family. It seemed it shouldn’t be so surprising that Duke Peter would disregard a Highness’s dignity and enter the fray personally.

The aroma of roasted jerboa meat wafted up from downstairs. Victor went down to the first floor and followed the scent into the kitchen. He saw Caligula, wearing a cook’s apron, standing before the stove, busy turning dozens of roasting racks while sprinkling all kinds of spices onto the meat skewers. The skin-on jerboa meat was roasted to a golden-brown, and grease dripped from the racks onto the charcoal fire, sizzling and sending up little puffs of smoke. The entire kitchen was filled with an enticing, smoky fragrance.

This scene stirred a memory in Victor from another world. Back then, when he was struggling to make a living at the bottom of society, he would find two or three friends to eat skewers and drink beer, whether he was in a good mood or a bad one.

Victor was suddenly in the mood for drinking and eating skewers. He sat down casually, slapped the greasy table, and called out to Narsen beside him, “Go get a barrel of good Sasan ale. We’ll drink and eat here.”

Narsen wasn’t a drunkard, but he loved good ale. It was just that Victor forbade his subordinates from excessive drinking, which made him hesitant to drink freely now. It was a rare occasion for his master to invite him for a drink, so Narsen was both surprised and delighted. He quickly ran outside to find the Sasan ale his master had specified.

A short while later, Narsen returned to the kitchen with a small barrel under each arm, each topped with a large tray piled with vegetables and fruit. With a slight jolt of his arms, the fruit and vegetable platters landed steadily on the table. He then casually twisted open the seal of one barrel, and a stream of ale flew into the oak mug in front of Victor.

Sasan ale was brewed from green wheat. The liquid was a pale green, rich in nutrients, and its aroma was mixed with a faint scent of wheat. Its taste, however, was completely different from the beer of Earth, being closer to the intensity of a strong spirit. It was actually quite awful, tasting spicy and bitter in the mouth. But with any alcohol, once you got used to it, you would find it satisfying.

Victor could use X-3 to adjust his sense of taste and make the bitter ale taste like fine wine, but this time he let the bitterness roll over his taste buds. Frowning, he drained the entire mug, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and bellowed, “Aka, are the skewers ready? Bring a few over to try.”

Caligula immediately brought over twenty skewers of roasted wild jerboa, two per skewer. He was about to cut up the roasted jerboa and plate it, but Victor stopped him.

“This is the fun way to eat it.”

Taking a skewer and biting directly into the meat, Victor found it crispy on the outside and tender on the inside. The flavor was excellent. He couldn’t help but give a thumbs-up and praise, “Aka, your roasting skills are even better than the master chef at Silver Moon Manor!”

A憨憨_smile appeared on Caligula’s face, and he returned to the stove to roast more meat with even greater enthusiasm.

Nothing made Aka happier than his master’s praise.

Seeing his master drinking so heartily, Narsen cast aside any noble etiquette. He downed a large mug of ale, devoured two roasted jerboas in five bites, and reached for a second skewer. “My lord,” he said, “you seem a bit different today.”

“How am I different?” Victor asked without looking up, busy with his skewer.

Narsen scratched his head and raised his mug. “I can’t quite put my finger on it, but you’re different from before.”

Victor clinked mugs with Narsen and smiled. “I suddenly figured something out.”

“What is it?”

“Hmm… it’s hard to explain to you. Let’s just drink and eat.”

“Oh.”

Narsen finished another three skewers and drank four mugs of ale. He glanced at the tirelessly working Caligula, then looked back, a curious smile on his face. “My lord, Aka definitely won’t understand, but maybe I can.”

Narsen was, after all, a noble with a lordship. After the war, Victor planned to grant him investiture as a Baron. It was rare for Narsen to show such a thirst for political knowledge, so Victor decided to enlighten him a little. “Just now, you were listening in on my conversation with Duke Peter. Did you make anything of it?”

“Duke Peter’s son seems to have sent someone to assassinate you, my lord. He came to apologize, paid a large sum of money, and also proposed marriage to Princess Celine of Sus on your behalf.”

“…Right, my lord, did the assassin sent by Duke Peter’s son actually try to kill you? I think, if there really was an assassin trying to harm you, it would be better to just kill Raymond. That way he won’t try to harm you in the future,” Narsen said, baring his teeth.

Victor shot him a look. “If a sabertooth tiger wants to eat you, of course you must kill it. But if a rat wants to kill you, must you kill the rat too? Raymond Peter is not yet worthy of my attention, and Duke Peter certainly wasn’t comparing his eldest son with me. Besides, Raymond Peter has already been given to the Kingdom of Sus as compensation by the Peter family. If I really wanted to hold him accountable, I’d have to go to Duke Meiding of the Kingdom of Sus. So, Duke Meiding and the Sus Royal Family have compensated the Centaur Hills with Princess Celine to appease my wrath… Celine was originally Raymond Peter’s fiancée. Wouldn’t you call that a kind of humiliating punishment?”

Narsen was a bit lost in the tangled explanation. “It seems so…” he stammered. “Sus is using a princess to compensate you for the Peter family of Borrey, this…”

“It’s about bloodline. There is no compensation more sincere than a noble knight’s bloodline.”

Victor shook his head and chuckled. “The lover chosen by the Queen of Sus was killed; it must have something to do with the great nobles of Sus. They would not allow the Eleanor family to establish another Gale Knight bloodline. The Eleanors were taught a lesson and chose to compromise. The most powerful family in Sus, the Meding family, can now covet Raymond’s Gale Knight bloodline. He was willing to sacrifice a daughter for it, because he was convinced that the attack on Raymond in the Twilight Forest was planned by us in Gambis.”

Narsen sputtered, “Then… Grand Duke Peter didn’t need to compensate you, my lord.”

“He didn’t compensate me. He came to tell me that if I don’t take him to play on the Southern Continent, he’ll find someone else to play with.”

Victor smiled freely. “Grand Duke Peter made me realize something. The actions of great lords and common people aren’t actually that different. The day I live has not a single blink more than a refugee’s, and a refugee’s day has not a single blink less than mine.”

“Isn’t it always like that?” Narsen said, puzzled.

“The truth is just that simple… Power and strength corrupted my mind. I unknowingly began to see myself as a god, and my perspective became lofty and aloof, but in reality, I am still just a man.” Victor nodded and said with emotion, “I told everyone that we shouldn’t be talking about cooperation with the Boreans right now. I had the nobles of Gambis maintain contact with the Boreans, to stall for time until our fleet was formed and we had complete control of Lake Fies. But how could a lower-ranking noble dare to oppose the will of the Protector of the Kingdom? Whenever Borean nobles brought up cooperation, they either clammed up or just hummed and hawed… Communication between the Boreans and Gambis stalled, so Grand Duke Peter had no choice but to come over here and flip the table on me.”

“The correct approach would have been to not express an opinion. Let the people below negotiate however they want. Once they reach an agreement that satisfies both sides, then I give my nod.”

“My lord, I think… this is so complicated.” Narsen tossed down a skewer; he had, without missing a beat, eaten eight of them.

Victor took a sip of ale and a bite of roasted meat, then said indistinctly, “In short, after this war is over, I’ll spend more time with my wife and daughter, go fishing and hunting when I feel like it, and research the Mind Bloodline secret art. I’ll leave all the various affairs to the people below me, and I won’t state my position so readily. I’ll just enjoy the life of a noble.”

“My lord speaks of the life I’ve always dreamed of,” Narsen laughed, then added, “Actually, fighting in wars isn’t bad either.”

Victor suddenly stood up. “Alright, stop eating. Any more… and Aka is going to cry.”

Narsen turned around, stunned, to see Caligula staring at the skewer in his hand with teary eyes, really about to cry.

Nothing made Aka happier than his master’s praise. If there was one thing, it was his master not leaving any of the delicious roasted meat for Aka.

Victor pointed at the embarrassed Narsen and shouted, “Boss Aka, come over, count the skewers and settle the bill! Get the money from this guy.”

He clasped his hands behind his back, greased his soles, and slipped away, leaving behind a dumbfounded and bewildered Narsen and a tearfully-gritting-his-teeth Caligula.

The sounds of the two Ferocious warriors roughhousing echoed from the kitchen. In high spirits, Victor returned to his bedroom and had a wonderful night’s sleep.

Early the next morning, Testier sent someone to inform Victor to prepare to head to the Northern Wildlands to assassinate the Goblin lord.

Victor led his men to the assembly point in front of the Church. When he saw Pontiff Clement dressed in hide armor, equipped with a mace and shield, he was greatly surprised. He went up and asked, “Your Holiness, are you planning to go with us?”

Clement smiled and nodded. “Yes.”

Victor looked at Testier, then at Tournans and Dimat. Seeing that they showed no reaction, he said tactfully, “Your Holiness, this is too dangerous. It would be better for you to remain in command at Giantstone Fortress.”

Clement himself was an initial-rank knight. If he took a Gold Potion, he could resonate with twenty-four elemental nodes and reach the level of a senior knight. But his status was so esteemed that his every move was watched. If he used a potion to enhance his strength, it would certainly not escape the eyes of a Gold Knight.

Victor could tell that Clement had not taken a Gold Potion. A Legendary Priest with only the physical constitution of an initial-rank knight would have a hard time even protecting himself in front of a Manticore, let alone moving quickly and concealing himself. Although the divine arts of a Legendary Priest would be a great help to Victor and the others, if he were to be exposed prematurely, he would not only be in danger himself but also bring trouble to the team.

“Are you afraid I’ll hold everyone back?”

Clement smiled gently. “The Goblin lord will not have just one Manticore by his side; he has a beastman legion. The mission to assassinate the Goblin lord must succeed; it cannot fail. When you need me, I should be by your side. Don’t worry, I’ll keep my distance.”

Victor persuaded him earnestly, “Your Holiness, all the Legendary-rank combatants in the East Pioneer Fief war zone are going to kill the Goblin lord. I have always been worried that the centaurs’ ‘Chosen of the Earth Mother’ could be a huge hidden danger. It would be best for you to stay in the Giantstone Fortress war zone, just in case.”

“Neo Wester will go to deal with the centaur leader. Kent and Flidis are also Legendary Priests. With the three of them there, even if the centaur leader is a Legendary-rank adult centaur, there’s nothing to worry about. Besides, the other Gold Paladins of the Radiant Knights all have Legendary-rank combat power.” Clement paused, then said with a serious expression, “The sooner we eliminate the threat of the Goblin lord, the sooner the Highnesses at Giantstone Fortress and the East Pioneer Fief can rendezvous. Once we dismantle the centaur army, a Legendary centaur will be no great threat.”

The Pontiff’s gaze shifted to the eight Alchemical Soldiers, and he then asked with a smile, “You don’t think that I, a Legendary Priest, am weaker than the Secret Art Guards cultivated by Aerie Fortress, do you?”

Alchemical Soldiers only had a lifespan of eight years and were made to be expendable. How could their usefulness be compared to that of a Legendary Priest? Besides, with the Pontiff accompanying them, how could the Wizards kept by the Inquisition make their move?

Victor was about to say more when a deep, hoarse voice came from within the church doors.

“The servants of the Supreme Lord shall become Holy Light and sweep away all darkness. This is the Lord’s favor, and also our joy.”

A man of medium height walked out of the church. He wore plain cloth, was barefoot, bald, and had no eyebrows—a perfect replica of Tournans. But his eyes were veiled in a platinum-gold luster, and his dark skin bore platinum-gold runes that looked like tattoos. On his hands, all the fingers except the thumbs were of equal length, and his palms were smooth, without a single line. He just stood there, exuding an inhuman aura.

At this moment, Tournans’s head was bowed, looking utterly submissive.

Victor slightly narrowed his dark gold eyes and said, word by word, “Ra-di-ant… War… God?”

Chapter 650: Striving

“Legend has it that seventh-rank clergy have a unique sacred name, which corresponds to the seventh-rank divine art in their Pool of Holy Power; it represents power on the level of the Saint realm. A seventh-rank priest is called a Spirit Priest; a seventh-rank Paladin, a Divine Paladin; and a seventh-rank Sacred Warrior is a Radiant Warrior, also known as the Radiant God of War.

“The Lord of Radiance’s core doctrine is Redemption. Compared to Paladins, who focus on retribution, and Sacred Warriors, who focus on enhancement, He favors priests who focus on Redemption. As long as a blood descendant of the first Pope Inoc ascends to the papal throne, they immediately grasp a seventh-rank divine art and are automatically promoted to Spirit Priest.

“Victor had seen a Spirit Priest who could go toe-to-toe with an evil god, but he had never even heard of a Radiant War God in all of the Church’s history.

“According to Father Miller, if a member of the clergy could perfectly fuse their soul, body, and holy power, they could break the limitations of the Pool of Holy Power and borrow strength directly from the Lord of Radiance, stepping into the ranks of seventh-rank clergy. As long as they were within the human kingdoms, which were suffused with faith, their holy power would be endless, and their divine arts could be cast at will, with no restrictions on time or efficacy. The only barrier was the limit of their own body’s ability to endure the holy power. If a clergy member of seventh-rank or higher left the domain of faith in the human kingdoms and entered the desolate, rarely-traveled wildlands, they could still mobilize the power of their Pool of Holy Power, and with extremely high authority.

“In other words, seventh-rank was the beginning of a clergy member’s journey of transcending the mundane and entering sainthood, and there were even higher levels beyond that.

“Of course, this was difficult. Very, very difficult.

“Holy power was, after all, an external force. For a clergy member to fuse it with their own soul, they had to find a common ground without losing their self-awareness, or else they would transform into pure Holy Light. This so-called common ground was the Lord of Radiance’s path of Redemption, which was clearly unfair to Paladins and Sacred Warriors.

“High-ranked Knights could glimpse the greatness of the Elemental Sea. They would never abandon the Path of the Knight, so they could not be considered to have truly pious faith. Naturally, no Divine Paladins ever appeared.

“A Paladin still had a basic healing spell and a holy healing spell, whereas a Sacred Warrior’s abilities were limited to enhancement and retribution.

“One only had to look at Tournans to understand. He was exceptionally talented, born into a priest’s family in the Theocracy of Ayr, and had been immersed in the teachings since childhood, wholeheartedly wanting to become a priest. In the end, he couldn’t even cast the most basic Divine Art of Holy Light and could only become a Sacred Warrior. Given Tournans’ pious faith, pure heart, and powerful talent, his failure to advance further showed just how difficult it was for a Sacred Warrior to reach the seventh rank.

“However, no matter how difficult it was for a Sacred Warrior to become a Radiant War God, the first Pope had already paved the path for their ascension. In the Radiant Church’s history of more than nine thousand years, outstanding figures had emerged continuously. Victor felt it wouldn’t be strange if a Sacred Warrior, following in the footsteps of their predecessors, stepped into the realm of saints now.

“This man, dressed in plain cloth and with bare feet, appearing to be in his prime, was clearly a Sacred Warrior stronger than Tournans. Both his eyes and his skin showed signs of transmutation into holy power. Even if he wasn’t a Radiant War God yet, he was likely not far off.

“Victor had called out ‘Radiant War God’ as a probe, born of curiosity and surprise. He coveted the Church’s achievements in the mental/mind domain. If not for his fear of upsetting the strategic balance, he would have been very willing to cooperate with the Church in researching the Mind Bloodline secret art to create the life-force of Source Power.

“However, the Sacred Warrior ignored the Gold-Eyed Earl’s attempt at conversation. He walked past Victor, stood before Caligula, and said,”Child, you are very good. Are you willing to serve the supreme Lord of Radiance, take me as your Tutor, and follow me to learn the Path of the Sacred Warrior?”

“Poaching his named retainer right in front of him?

“Victor’s expression immediately darkened, showing a Highness’s displeasure.

“For someone of low status, this was undoubtedly a golden opportunity to obtain extraordinary power and enter the upper echelons of society. But a lord’s retainer did not have the autonomy to choose their faction. Even if he were willing to serve the Lord of Radiance and throw his lot in with the Church, he would first have to obtain his master’s consent. This high-ranking Sacred Warrior had actually invoked the name of the Supreme Lord to invite Caligula, making the problem both complicated and sensitive. If Caligula were quick-witted, he could have tactfully passed the problem to his master, but he was infuriatingly simple-minded and would most likely answer ‘yes’ or ‘no’ directly.

“If he answered ‘yes,’ it would be tantamount to betraying his master. If he answered ‘no,’ it would be disrespecting the Supreme Lord in front of a clergyman, and the consequences would be even more severe.

“Caligula looked completely clueless, staring at the Sacred Warrior as if he could see a flower blooming on his face.

“Testier spoke up before Aka could, saying,”Master Ron, please come with me. I have a mission to assign to you.”

“The plainly dressed Sacred Warrior nodded and followed Testier toward the Giantstone Fortress’s Gate of Death.

“Once they were far enough away, Inquisitor-General Trigovar turned to Victor and explained,”Master Ron was formerly the Chief Sacred Warrior of the Inquisition. He left the Inquisition sixty years ago to join the Heart of Light Monastery, where he specializes in teaching Sacred Warriors. Tournans studied under Master Ron for a very long time. His strength is unfathomable; he is the Sixth-level Sacred Warrior closest to becoming a Radiant War God.”

“Victor understood. There were only twenty-eight publicly known sixth-level Sacred Warriors in the Church, each holding a crucial position and exalted status. Victor had read their files and could recognize any of them on sight. Only the religious inquisition had always been shrouded in a black fog, and the Inquisition never publicized the names of its high-ranking Sacred Warriors. This was because the people of the Inquisition often had to do things that conflicted with Church doctrine, such as executing believers who sheltered the relatives of Wizards, even resorting to brutal torture and harming the innocent.

“Only the most pious and fervent Sacred Warriors could withstand the collapse of faith brought on by such doctrinal conflicts. They cared nothing for fame or power; they were true fanatics.

“Lords despised fanatics within the Church. Fortunately, the Knight-Nobles held most of the power in the Church, and fanatics had gradually disappeared from the lords’ sight. Victor had not expected to run into a fanatic, and a legendary, monster-level one at that.

“Trigovar said Ron’s strength was unfathomable, but the Radiant Church’s resources and heritage were what was truly bottomless. Heaven knew how many monsters like Ron were hidden away in the various monasteries.

“Victor wasn’t concerned about Ron’s individual strength. Any melee combatant would be at a natural disadvantage against him alone. An Extraordinary Archer was, by their very nature, a balance-breaking existence, which was why the Testier family could securely hold their position as the First Paladin family, and why the various kingdoms coveted the bloodline of the Gale Knights.

“The pure and extreme ideology of a fanatic was the most dangerous thing.

“Ron might not play a crucial role in assassinating the Goblin lord, but with him around, the Wizards that Trigovar secretly kept would likely not dare to come along.

“Victor fell silent for a moment before asking the Inquisitor-General,”Is Master Ron traveling with us?”

“Pope Clement interjected,”Ron is one hundred thirty-one years old this year. He also saw the red smoke beacon lit by Patriarch Flidis. Two days ago, he arrived at Giantstone Fortress and requested to participate in the operation to assassinate the Goblin lord. We cannot refuse a pious old Sacred Warrior his duty to sweep away the darkness.”

“A thought struck Victor, and he said in surprise,”Master Ron plans to use the Manticore for his final breakthrough? But the Manticore isn’t our target.”

“Clement looked into Victor’s eyes and said gently,”Victor, this attempt by Master Ron is… critically important for the Church’s Sacred Warriors. Moreover, he is of common birth, not a natural Ferocious warrior… I hope you can understand.”

“Victor had nothing more to say. Those in high positions often realized that the more common something was, the more valuable it was. If the individual strength of every common soldier was raised even a little, the overall strength of a family, or even a kingdom, would increase by a huge margin. Tofwen the Wizard’s Strength Potion was so precious because it was designed for common people and was low-cost. Victor had meticulously designed the level one Source Blood Secret Art for common soldiers for the same reason. The Church’s Sacred Warriors were, of course, no exception.

“Tournans said,”Tutor Ron will not interfere with our mission. If we need his help, he will assist. If all goes smoothly… my Tutor will stay behind and find a way to deal with the Manticore himself.”

“Victor nodded.”If time is sufficient, I am willing to assist His Excellency Ron.”

“The bigger picture is what matters,” Pope Clement said, glancing around. “The scout squad led by the Paladins Strange Testier and Conlar Trigovar is currently hiding somewhere in the Giantstone Mountains, awaiting our support. They have sent their last Red-Eyed messenger crow and have lost contact with Giantstone Fortress. We cannot be certain of their current situation, or if they are still in their original position. The longer we delay, the more complicated the situation becomes. We must set out as soon as possible and find them first.”

“I am ready. We can leave at any time,” Victor said with a smile.

“Then let’s be on our way.”

“Clement, leading his Horned Wolf mount by the reins, was the first to walk toward the barracks gate. As an initial-rank Knight, he still needed an aberrant war beast for transport.

The heavy Gate of Death slowly rose. The party—composed of Gold Paladins Howard, Clark, and Lester Trigovar; Legendary Priest Clement; Sixth-level Sacred Warriors Ron, Tournans, and Dimat; Legendary Archer and Legendary Swordsman Victor; Ferocious warriors Caligula and Narsen; as well as two level-four battle priests, four Adjudicators, and eight Alchemical warriors—entered the Northern Wildlands and headed east.

That was the direction of the Goblin lord’s lair, humanity’s former homeland.

On the front lines of the East Pioneer Fief, in a rest chamber on the fourth floor of the Logwood City Church.

Gold Paladin Klocher stood at the window with his hands behind his back, gazing east. Beyond his line of sight lay the Northern Camp of the Sidon Centaurs.

“Speak. What is it you truly want?” Klocher asked in a flat tone, without turning around.

Dressed in a court dress and wearing an empress’s coronet, Grace Klocher Frederick sat alone on a sofa. Her hands were clasped, her back perfectly straight, displaying the dignified and elegant bearing of the Empire’s Empress.

“Father, I am your daughter, and also the Empress of the Sasan Empire. The Empire’s knights and soldiers are about to face the Centaur invaders in a pitched battle. As the matriarch of the Empire, I must naturally come to the front lines to boost morale,” Grace said righteously.

Klocher turned around. His amber eyes swept over the elaborate gown Grace was wearing. He returned to the main seat and said coldly, “Then you should be wearing combat gear, not this court dress that would be cumbersome even for a banquet.”

The corners of Grace’s mouth curved into a soft smile. “My son, your grandson, Siegfried Friedrich, and his three thousand Guard Cavalry are fully armed. The soldiers and generals of Logwood City see a Crown Prince ready for war. Only you see a mother.”

“Father, I thought you would be proud of me, and of Zieg.”

Stung by his youngest daughter’s jab, a wry smile touched Klocher’s lips. He softened his tone, “You have done very well these years. It’s just that a great war is upon us. You and Zieg should be in the imperial capital, stabilizing the will of the people, coordinating logistics…”

“Patriarch Flidis is there.”

Grace cut her father off, continuing, “You say a great war is upon us; I say victory is. Half of the one hundred fifty thousand centaurs in the Northern Camp have left. The Goblin slaves are no longer transporting grain to them. The remaining centaurs lack food, have no will to fight, and are preparing to leave, while we have gathered one hundred eighty thousand elite cavalry. The Griffin Knights, Moon Bear Knights, Iron Wall Knights, and Swift Dragon Knights are all poised to strike. Victory is within our grasp, yet you want your grandson, the future Emperor of the Sasan Empire, to leave?”

Klocher said calmly, “There are fifteen Highnesses here, more than seventy Silver Knights, and several hundred senior knights. What can Zieg possibly gain from participating in this battle? Ridicule, or danger? Grace, my daughter, take Zieg back. He will become the monarch of the Sasan Empire, after Frederick perishes, which will not be for another sixty-plus years. That is enough time for Zieg to polish his Aura, firm up his conviction, and advance to Extraordinary Knight… I am certain that now is not the time for him to resonate with an Elemental Node.”

“Then what about me?”

Grace looked directly into her father’s eyes and pressed, “Will I be able to see the moment my only beloved son enjoys glory? And what can I do for my beloved son?”

For a moment, the Gold Paladin was speechless.

Her father’s silence ignited the anger that had long been smoldering within Grace. She rose gracefully, her slender white fingers tapping her brow as she spoke, “The first-ranked Testier family holds the power of the Church, while a Paladin family at the bottom of the ranks holds the secular power of the Sasan Empire. For this, I lost the favor of the Supreme Lord, married Emperor Friedrich, and became the Empress of the Sasan Empire. When Zieg one day ascends the throne and marries a daughter of the Benedict family as his empress, the Klocher family, currently at the bottom, will rise to third place. Father, in your eyes, am I truly just a sacrifice whose thoughts do not need to be considered?”

Klocher sighed and said, “Back then, you were willing to marry Frederick, and your relationship was very good.”

“I was only seventeen back then!” Grace lowered her hand, the smile on her face like an elegant mask. “I married Frederick at seventeen and gave birth to Zieg at nineteen, but Frederick is only four years younger than you. My husband is a Gold Knight. We have not seen each other in two years. I think of him constantly, but does he ever think of me?”

“Zieg is my son with Frederick. Since my husband is currently unable to concern himself with the war in Logwood City, I must fulfill a father’s duty on his behalf.”

“My esteemed Father, I have lost the favor of the Supreme Lord and my own Knight’s Path has been severed, but do not forget, I am a daughter of the Klocher family. You and I both know that for the Frederick family to have endured until now, bloodline alone is not enough to allow my son to become a Gold Knight. But there is a way… The secret of the Mark of Light… the faith of believers, or the prestige of an emperor… the awe and love of the subjects…”

Klocher shot to his feet, his presence as imposing as a mountain. He asked in a deep voice, “Who told you?!”

Grace raised her head proudly. “The majesty of a Gold Knight is immense, yet it cannot sway the will of an Empress. That in itself should be answer enough.”

Klocher was stunned. He retracted his imposing aura, his expression troubled as he asked, “My dear Grace, tell me, who told you a secret that only the heads of the Paladin families are qualified to know?”

“…I have my sources. You also have no idea how many resources Wolfhold controls.” The Sasan Empress gave a victorious smile, then sighed as if she were a young girl again. “Father, I am past the age of playing the coquette with you, and Zieg long ago stopped doing so with his parents. But he is my hope. His achievements will compensate for the regrets in my life.”

“Father, in your mind, must your daughter and your grandson give up their hopes for the sake of the family’s ranking?”

Klocher gave a relaxed laugh and nodded. “You are correct. I do not wish for anything to happen to Zieg. I would much rather he smoothly inherit Frederick’s crown. I have already sacrificed one daughter; I cannot let your brother sacrifice his own.”

Grace seethed, biting her lip. “I implore you to send men to protect Zieg and arrange a suitable position for him. If you do not agree, then I can only pray to the Supreme Lord to protect the Crown Prince of the Sasan Empire… Let us hope my brother will not have to sacrifice his daughter as you did.”

Klocher said helplessly, “Grace, you must understand, Priest Kent is the commander of this battle, and four of the Highnesses from Logwood City who are participating belong to the Baselius family. The risks involved are beyond my control.”

“With your standing, you can certainly arrange things for Zieg!” Grace said decisively. Taking a breath, she added, “Frederick and I cannot sit by and watch Duke Baselius stride across the battlefield while Wolfhold has no presence at all. The main cavalry forces of the Empire’s eastern lords are deployed at Bright City and Crystal City, but in addition to the Baselius family’s army, Logwood City also has forty-three thousand elite cavalry from the Empire’s central lords. Their eyes cannot only see the Griffin banner; the Blood Wolf imperial banner must also fly here.”

“Father, a daughter from a Paladin family wears the empress’s coronet. Is this not my mission?”

Klocher was about to try again to persuade his nearly fanatical daughter when he suddenly turned his head and called to the doorway, “Marchel, what is it?”

A Paladin in Mithril armor pushed open the door and saluted both Klocher and the Sasan Empress. “My lord, the centaurs from the Northern Camp have begun to withdraw. Priest Kent requests your immediate presence in the great hall for an emergency meeting.”

“We’re coming.”

Klocher nodded and rose to walk toward the door. Before leaving, he stopped and looked back at Grace, saying, “I will inevitably be the spearhead of the primary assault. Zieg cannot follow me. I will arrange a suitable position for him. He and his two uncles will operate alongside the Silver Paladins from the Testier family.”

The Sasan Empress’s smile was like a blooming flower. She gathered her skirts, curtsied, and said in a sweet voice, “May the beastman invaders’ blood flow like rivers beneath Father’s sword.”

Chapter 651: First Battle

The battle began about twenty days earlier than Priest Kent had anticipated, but it didn’t matter. The human armies were already prepared for war.

The human allied forces had formulated two plans of action for the centaurs in the Northern Camp. If the centaurs there were to withdraw in batches, Logwood City would hold its position. Once the number of centaur warriors dropped from sixty thousand to around thirty thousand, two hundred thousand elite cavalry would launch an all-out offensive, wiping them out in one fell swoop. They would then turn toward the centaurs’ Southern Camp, rendezvous with the armies from Bright City and Crystal City, and completely annihilate the main force of the Sidon Centaurs.

As for the centaurs who had already fled back to their tribal lairs, they were of no great concern. Most of their females were pregnant and awaiting birth, possessing little combat strength, and a few tens of thousands of male centaurs could hardly stir up any trouble. The East Pioneer Fief war zone would first crush the centaurs in the Northern and Southern Camps, then summon the allied forces from the Giantstone Fortress war zone to advance deep into the Westdon Khanate and jointly exterminate the remnants of the defeated centaur army.

However, the powerful individuals among the Northern Camp centaurs sensed the danger from Logwood City. They decided to conduct a full retreat, back to the territory they knew best, a land covered in fields of golden, ripened green wheat. As long as they had food and strategic depth, the centaurs had nothing to fear.

For the Logwood City army to annihilate sixty thousand centaurs in one go was a nearly impossible task; a direct frontal assault would inevitably lead to devastating losses. In this situation, the commander, Priest Kent, changed the objective from total annihilation to driving the Northern Camp centaurs toward the Southern Camp as much as possible. This would increase the food burden on the Southern Camp, creating chaos and division among the different tribes, allowing the human allied forces to pick them off one by one, like peeling an onion.

A small episode occurred during Priest Kent’s pre-battle meeting. The Empress and the Crown Prince happened to be in Logwood City. Empress Grace, of course, would not participate in the battle, but since Crown Prince Siegfried had found himself in the midst of a general mobilization, there was no reason for him to evade combat. His Highness, Paladin Klocher, made some arrangements for his nephew, which the legendary battle priest readily agreed to. The Crown Prince’s Guard Cavalry were elite veterans from Blood Wolfhold, well-versed in fighting centaurs, so there was no need to worry about them making any mistakes.

After the war council concluded, the heavy drawbridge of Logwood City was slowly lowered. Sacred Warriors, mounted on Horned Wolves, galloped off to the various castles, barracks, and outposts to deliver Commander Priest Kent’s orders.

In the early hours of the morning, fully armed mobile cavalry forces streamed out from the rear gates of various fortifications, circling into the Giantwood Forest north of Logwood City. They advanced eastward under the cover of moonlight and the forest.

The Logwood City defense line stretched for more than two hundred kilometers and was nearly thirty kilometers deep, so the movement of over one hundred thousand cavalrymen through such a vast area did not attract much attention. Moreover, the human allied forces had already cleared out the entrenched beastmen forces in the East Pioneer Fief, leaving the Sidon Centaurs completely unaware of the situation behind the human defense line. The Savage Centaurs sensed the approaching danger, but as they belonged to different tribes, no single centaur leader could make the decision for a full-scale retreat overnight.

The greater the danger, the more tightly they huddled together. Every leader feared that if they led their kin in a premature retreat, they would suffer a devastating blow.

Wild intuition was not omnipotent. In a battle of this scale, the will of a powerful individual was constrained by the herd mentality. The centaur leaders could easily break out on their own, but they had to consider the safety and interests of their people.

A single night was not enough time for the centaur leaders to reach a consensus on whether to fight or flee.

Of course, they were not entirely idle. Many centaur scouts entered the Giantwood Forest to reconnoiter the human army’s movements, but very few of them made it back alive. They brought news of the large human army in the Giantwood Forest to their tribal leaders. However, the centaur leaders were at a loss, or perhaps, simply indifferent.

Centaurs were not suited for forest warfare; the vast plains were their home turf. Besides the forest to the north and the human fortress to the west, the centaurs could still maneuver east or south. If the main human force dared to leave the cover of the forest, the great centaur army would teach them a painful lesson.

And so, one hundred and twenty thousand elite cavalry flanked the eastern side of the centaurs’ Northern Camp, cutting off their escape route to the east.

The next morning, the centaurs discovered the main human army behind them. But this didn’t threaten them; they believed a few mass charges would be enough to destroy these human warriors who had abandoned their fortifications. Besides, there were no human troops to the south. They could easily flank from the south and encircle the main human force.

However, the centaurs never got the chance to annihilate the human cavalry they deemed weak and ridiculous. A threat from the direction of Logwood City captured their full attention. Amidst the resounding blasts of majestic horns, more than thirty thousand elite cavalry poured out from the city gates. At the very front were heavily armored war beast cavalry. Though few in number, they were the only human legion capable of tearing through a centaur phalanx from the front. The massive giant bears, the majestic griffins, and the twin-horned wolves had left the centaurs with far too many painful memories. This time, those cunning and ferocious Horned Wolves were on the eastern flank, while two new types of monsters appeared to the south: giant one-horned lions and large six-legged lizards.

They looked just as difficult to deal with.

Following the war beast charge were ten times their number in heavy cavalry, responsible for widening the breaches torn open by the War Beast Knights. Only after them would the remaining cavalry launch a full-scale assault.

Human cavalry should never engage a centaur phalanx in a head-on charge. A centaur could still run and jump after being hit by an arrow, but a human warhorse, once struck by a javelin or arrow, would collapse, tripping a whole group of riders behind it. Aberrant war beasts were immensely strong with thick hides. Clad in heavy armor, they wouldn’t die immediately even if grievously wounded; instead, they would become even more berserk and ferocious. Thus, the heavy cavalry supporting the aberrant war beasts suffered the highest casualty rates, often losing over half their number in a single battle.

However, war always has its sacrifices, and humanity has never lacked for brave and fearless warriors.

The war beast cavalry, heavy cavalry, and main cavalry force formed a great iron hammer, tasked with smashing open the centaur phalanx and crushing their courage!

Of course, if there was a hammer, there must also be an anvil.

The one hundred and twenty thousand cavalry blocking the centaurs’ rear was the anvil. They maneuvered and patrolled in the east, ready to deliver a heavy blow to any centaurs attempting a frantic breakout.

With the hammer and anvil in place, the Logwood City allied forces had also prepared a noose.

Fifteen hundred Horned Wolf Sacred Warriors and twenty-five thousand of the most elite cavalry formed a Ranger force. Positioned behind the main cavalry force on the eastern flank, they were responsible for hunting down any who managed to slip through the lines, compelling the main centaur army to move south. When necessary, the Rangers could also serve as a reserve force, ready to reinforce the battlefield at a moment’s notice.

Siegfried Friedrich was now a member of this Ranger force, but he had been placed in the safest position within the Giantwood Forest.

Priest Kent was employing the tactic of “surrounding on three sides and leaving one open.” If the centaurs broke out to the west, they would slam into Logwood City’s defensive system. If they fled north, they would enter the Giantwood Forest, which was tantamount to giving up their advantage and marching to their deaths. A mass breakout to the east was the most likely scenario, meaning the main cavalry force responsible for interception would bear the greatest pressure. Consequently, the Rangers in the Giantwood Forest faced the least pressure and were fewest in number; they would only encounter a small number of Savage Centaurs attempting to escape through the woods.

And the Silver Paladin of House Testier, Countess Andria, Viscount Negus of Dodor, and Viscount Soren of Gambis were waiting right there for them.

The sharp, chilling aura of the Gale Knights made the Savage Centaurs shrink back in fear.

Therefore, Siegfried, clad in Dragon-Lizard leather armor, could stand on high ground and survey the entire battlefield.

The aberrant war beasts and heavy cavalry gave the centaurs no opportunity to mobilize and form up. The High-ranked Knights chose to charge on foot, dual-wielding Mithril beheading swords as they plunged into the centaur phalanx first. Knights in Adamantine armor and aberrant war beasts followed close behind. The apprentice knights, Mystic Warriors, and Elite Soldiers remained on horseback, the only way for them to keep up.

The War Beast Knights and heavy cavalry formed an arrowhead formation and crashed into the centaur phalanx. Like a red-hot knife slicing through butter, they instantly tore several gaps in the centaur lines. Over ten thousand heavy cavalry poured through the openings created by the War Beast Knights, carving deep into the formation, trying to completely shatter the centaurs’ dense charge formation and support the full assault of the main cavalry force behind them.

Arrows rained down like locusts, and javelins fell like rain. The Gold Knights were unstoppable, and the aberrant war beasts rampaged. Blood and flesh flew across the battlefield. The roars of the war beasts and the screams of the centaurs mingled into a symphony of war. The Sasan Crown Prince’s blood boiled, and he had to circulate his Aura to calm his surging emotions. With a restrained expression, he pointed and said, “It’s going smoothly… the centaur line is spreading out. They can’t hold.”

“…It’s only going smoothly because the Gold-rank Centaur Chiliarchs are deliberately avoiding the spearhead of the Gold Knights.”

A Paladin with pale gold hair and blue eyes smiled and said, “In a battle of this scale, the powerful on both sides must focus on killing as many of the enemy’s ordinary soldiers as possible. The centaurs are swift and more agile than our heavy cavalry. The High-ranked Knights haven’t actually killed that many centaurs. Their formation is spreading out to lure the heavy cavalry deeper… Just watch. They’ll close the gaps soon and devour the heavy cavalry that followed the Knight Orders.”

The situation on the battlefield quickly changed. The centaurs did their best to avoid the Knights and aberrant war beasts, concentrating their fire to kill the warhorses of the armored cavalry first. Some Savage Centaurs simply charged with refined iron spiked clubs, crashing into the riders and brutally severing the torrent of armored cavalry.

Warhorses were shot into porcupines by the dense volleys of arrows. Heavy cavalrymen fell to the ground, tripping many of their comrades. The cavalry force supporting the war beasts thinned at a visible rate, and they gradually began to fall behind the High-ranked Knights.

Seeing that the vanguard of heavy cavalry was about to be separated from the War Beast Knights, Zieg frowned, turned his body slightly, and asked respectfully, “Uncle, in this situation, what should those heavy cavalry do?”

The Paladin sighed and said, “The High-ranked Knights and aberrant war beasts must absolutely not turn back to support the heavy cavalry that has fallen behind. If they do, they’ll be caught in the centaurs’ circular firing formation. The Centaur Chiliarchs are mixed in among the ordinary centaurs, throwing heavy javelins in volleys with power comparable to a ballista. Even an Extraordinary Knight couldn’t last long under that. They must punch through the centaur phalanx, rendezvous with the main cavalry force on the eastern side, and then turn back to charge again.”

“…The heavy cavalry.”

The Paladin paused for a moment before continuing, “Their mission is to charge into the center of the centaur phalanx, set up the Turtle Shell Blade Formation, and use their own bodies to create a fortification. They will create an obstacle to the centaurs’ charge, hold their ground, and wait for reinforcements. Once the cavalry from the east and west wings charge into the battlefield, they will engage the centaurs in close-quarters combat.”

At that moment, the surviving heavy cavalrymen abandoned their mounts and, braving the ferocious stray arrows, quickly moved to join their comrades. In groups of a dozen, they knelt on the ground, holding refined iron shields. The shields interlocked, forming a semi-circular Turtle Shell Shield Formation, with gleaming long-handled scimitars jutting out from the seams. Any centaur daring to charge the Turtle Shell Blade a Formation would have its limbs severed or even be disemboweled.

The Turtle Shell Blade Formation, invented by the Temple Army and the Sasan Empire, was specifically designed to counter the centaurs’ mass charge, creating an opportunity for follow-up troops to engage in melee combat. However, the formation was immobile. Savage Centaurs would throw their spiked clubs, picking them off one by one. A Savage Centaur of Silver rank or higher could kill a dozen soldiers with the shockwave of a single blow. How many of the heavy cavalry would survive depended entirely on the speed of the main army’s assault.

The Turtle Shell Blade Formation seemed simple, but the warriors forming it needed to rely on the strength of their comrades and the support of the earth to withstand the heavy javelins thrown by the centaurs. Nearly all Sasan soldiers could expertly form it, yet the auxiliary cavalry of the Iron Wall Knights and Swift Dragon Knights, despite several months of training, were still clumsy. They either couldn’t gather enough men or couldn’t find their positions, and for a moment, they suffered heavy casualties.

“They are the truly brave…”

The Paladin gave his assessment, then suddenly let out a small “Huh?”

Zieg followed the Paladin’s gaze and saw that some of the Swift Dragon Knights’ auxiliary cavalry had completely abandoned setting up the Turtle Shell Blade Formation and were charging directly at the centaurs. They wore dark red hide armor, wielded two refined iron scimitars, and moved with the agility of monkeys, rolling and fighting under the centaurs’ bellies. Their scimitars shimmered with a faint indigo light as they deftly stabbed into the centaurs’ unprotected rears, pulling out great gouts of blood and entrails. Then, they used the wildly kicking, loudly screaming centaurs as cover to move toward their next target.

These red-armored warriors were like cold, evil phantoms efficiently spreading death and pain across the battlefield. Any centaur they got close to met a gruesome end.

Zieg quietly clenched his buttocks. He heard the Great Knight tasked with protecting him say, “Gambis couldn’t possibly have several hundred agility-focused Ferocious warriors! They are…”

“Secret Art Guards trained by Aerie Fortress!”

The Paladin’s expression was grim as he finished the sentence. “These Secret Art Guards are all finished… Gambis didn’t send any Gold Knights to battle, but they’ve wagered a great deal of their capital.”

Although the red-armored warriors were valiant and fierce, causing localized chaos among the centaurs, their numbers were too thin compared to the centaur host. The terrified centaur warriors, afraid of being entangled by these fiends, no longer cared about hitting their comrades and unleashed a rain of heavy arrows and javelins, turning the red-armored warriors into porcupines.

However, the tenacity of the red-armored warriors surpassed human limits. One, who had been torn in two by a Savage Centaur, took advantage of his opponent’s carelessness to drag his mangled upper body forward and shove the scimitar in his hand into the Savage Centaur’s rear.

Zieg’s scalp tingled as he watched. “Are they even human?” he muttered.

The Paladin closed his half-open mouth and offered a strained explanation. “Well… I heard that the Potion Masters of Aerie Fortress developed a secret potion that allows a person to ignore pain and unlock their potential. The more pain the warrior taking that potion feels, the stronger their killing desire becomes. This potion… is quite effective on the battlefield.”

The last stand of the red-armored warriors bought time for the other cavalry to set up their Turtle Shell Blade Formations. The High-ranked Knights and the War Beast Knights also punched through the centaur camp, but just over one thousand War Beast Knights could not rout more than sixty thousand centaurs at once. Enduring the damage from the Turtle Shell Blade Formations, the centaurs, under their leaders’ command, converged into a single torrent and launched a mass charge toward the cavalry on the western flank.

This development was completely unexpected. The main human cavalry force was on the eastern flank; the western flank only had just over twenty thousand cavalrymen, and they were closer to the centaurs. The slightest misstep would mean annihilation.

The hammer had suddenly become the anvil, so the anvil could also become the hammer.

The twenty thousand-plus cavalrymen immediately used cloths to cover their warhorses’ eyes, dismounted, and then stabbed their mounts’ rumps with their daggers, forcing the horses to stampede toward the centaurs. The chaotic herd of horses bought the warriors a precious moment, and they quickly gathered to form one Turtle Shell Blade Formation after another.

The main cavalry force on the eastern flank regrouped with the War Beast Knights. Led by the Gold Knights, they slowly pressed toward the centaur army. When the centaurs’ arrow range covered the western Turtle Shell Blade Formations, the one hundred thousand cavalrymen on the eastern flank sounded the charge.

The trembling of the earth reached Zieg’s feet. The tide of cavalry compressed the tens of thousands of centaurs into a thin ribbon, squeezing it and pushing it to drift rapidly southward.

“We’ve won… Should we attack?” the Crown Prince asked, his hand gripping his sword hilt, eager for action.

The Paladin observed for a moment before replying calmly, “Our heavy cavalry has lost at least six thousand men. The centaurs have probably lost fewer than three thousand. Both sides are still largely intact. The centaurs chose to feint an attack on the western cavalry, not the eastern, precisely because they understand the human cavalry’s weakness—once they charge, they cannot easily turn. They used their natural mobility to shift and detour south. If they get around to our cavalry’s flank and launch a counter-charge, our main cavalry force will be in danger. Now is not the time to be greedy for merit…”

“Pass the order! The Rangers in the Giantwood Forest are to flank east and support the twenty thousand Rangers there. Prevent a centaur counter-charge and force them to keep running south!”

“But…” the Crown Prince began to argue, unwilling to accept it. He hadn’t killed a single centaur in this battle.

“Zieg, forcing these centaurs to the Southern Camp is the battle objective set by His Excellency Kent, not killing as many of them as possible.” The Paladin clapped his nephew’s shoulder. “They have no supplies. The more centaurs that flee to the Southern Camp, the greater the trouble they will bring there, and the smaller our losses will be. As the Crown Prince of the Empire, you must put the bigger picture first. Do you understand?”

Siegfried bowed his head. “Uncle, I understand. I am ashamed…”

The Paladin smiled. “The House of Baselius’ Griffin Knights didn’t earn much glory either. They killed fewer centaurs than Gambis’s secret art death commandos.”

“…It’s a pity. Those few hundred fearless warriors were all killed in action.”

Chapter 652: The Red-Armored Warriors of Gambis

In this battle, both sides had committed armies of immense scale. The human allied forces deployed two hundred thousand elite cavalry. Not counting militia and retired veterans, this number was close to the total cavalry forces of three kingdoms combined. The more than sixty thousand Centaur warriors also represented one-third of the Westdon Khanate’s able-bodied males.

Neither side could afford the loss, so the battle could only be considered a probe.

The warriors of the Sasan Empire, understanding the Centaurs’ strengths and weaknesses, had invented the Turtle Shell Blade Formation. The Centaurs, equally knowledgeable about human strengths and shortcomings, knew that human armored knights and aberrant war beasts were extremely powerful. Any Centaur who didn’t know to avoid them was already dead; veteran Centaur warriors knew how to handle the charge of human powerhouses.

A human cavalry charge could never turn on a whim, but Centaurs had no such problem. Warhorses couldn’t run sideways, but Centaurs could. Not only could they sidestep and leap while running, but they could also dig their fore-hooves into the ground to execute a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree tail-whipping turn.

When the Gold Knights led the charge into the Centaur horde, they tore through like a hot knife through butter, yet their kill count was meager. The Centaurs avoided the brunt of the assault from the Knights and their aberrant war beasts, suffering minor losses but gaining little advantage.

In past battles, the heavy cavalry accompanying the knight orders would have been the Centaurs’ primary targets. This time, the Centaurs curbed their instincts and refused to take the hard-shelled, thorny bait. They chose to endure the disadvantage of the Turtle Shell Blade Formation, feinting an attack on the human cavalry to the west before executing a brilliant flanking maneuver and escaping through a gap to the south.

Had the Centaurs become entangled with the heavy cavalry’s Turtle Shell Blade Formation, it would have inevitably escalated into a do-or-die pitched battle.

Afterward, the Logwood City garrison came out to clean the battlefield. According to the tally, the four great War Beast Knight orders were almost unscathed. The heavy cavalry suffered 4,677 casualties, with 1,803 killed in action. Most of the remaining wounded were saved by priests, but the human allied forces lost more than six thousand warhorses, meaning over six thousand cavalrymen were temporarily out of commission.

The Centaurs left behind more than 2,300 of their comrades, and those who weren’t already dead were finished off by the garrison soldiers.

The casualty ratio between the two sides was two-to-one.

Considering the disparities between Centaurs and humans in terms of weight, food consumption, growth cycle, population, and individual strength, a three-to-one casualty ratio for the human cavalry would be considered a minor victory. A two-to-one ratio was worthy of a lord throwing a victory feast.

The garrison soldiers also discovered that 645 grievously wounded Centaurs had been stabbed in the rear, the blades piercing straight into their abdominal cavities. The wounds were all inflicted by the same type of refined iron scimitar, and the cavalrymen who wielded them all came from the Gambis Kingdom.

Clad in dark red leather armor, these 381 men had all been killed in action. But in the short battle, they had killed at least 645 Centaur warriors, an average of two kills per man.

The Sasan cavalry were elites, one in ten. In close-quarters combat, it wasn’t difficult for them to kill a Centaur one-on-one, and the best among them could even handle two or three. However, in large-scale formation battles, Centaurs were difficult to match, their overall combat effectiveness leagues beyond that of human cavalry.

Sasan soldiers often needed a five-to-one numerical superiority to be assured of a decisive victory. No one knew better than them how incredible it was for the red-armored warriors to achieve a one-to-two kill ratio while surrounded on all sides.

Those responsible for collecting the remains of their comrades-in-arms gained an even deeper understanding of the red-armored warriors. The battle they had endured was exceptionally brutal. While inflicting heavy losses on the Centaurs, their own unit was completely wiped out. Every man was shot full of holes, and some were even torn in two by frenzied Centaurs. Yet, their faces showed no fear, anger, or pain—only a frozen indifference and calm. The fact that several hundred red-armored warriors all shared the same expression was both awe-inspiring and chilling.

Was their willpower forged from steel?

Two of the Gambis Kingdom’s Silver Knights personally led a party to take charge of the red-armored warriors’ bodies. After the priests finished their prayers for the dead, they insisted on cremating the fallen from Gambis, supervising the process on-site. Only after the cremation was finished, the ashes collected, and they confirmed nothing was left behind did they depart.

The unusual behavior of the two Extraordinary Knights drew the extra attention of certain observant parties, and various speculations about the red-armored warriors stirred a dark undercurrent among the major powers.

His Highness and Priest Kent in Logwood City were oblivious to these undercurrents. The campaign to annihilate the main force of the Sidon Centaurs had only just begun, and they still had much to do.

The collective southward movement of the sixty thousand-plus Centaur warriors from the Northern Camp was perfectly in line with the first phase of the human allied forces’ military operational plan. However, the commander, Priest Kent, had to guard against the possibility of the Northern Camp Centaurs circling east. If they managed to return to the heartland of the Westdon Khanate, it would be difficult for the human allied forces to encircle and destroy them again.

The contest of stamina became the key to victory for both sides.

The endurance of warhorses was far inferior to that of the omnivorous Centaurs, but the Centaurs of the Northern Camp hadn’t had a full meal recently. How far could they possibly run?

The two hundred thousand cavalry from Logwood City fed their mounts refined fodder mixed with raw sugar and trailed fifteen kilometers behind the main Centaur army. The Griffin Knights, Moon Bear Knights, Swift Dragon Knights, Iron Wall Knights, and 1,500 Horned Wolf Sacred Warriors stuck close to the left (eastern) flank of the Centaur army.

If the Northern Camp Centaurs chose to turn and flee east at this point, they would be cut in half by the powerful War Beast Knights, and their entire rear guard would suffer a devastating blow. Once the human army devoured the Centaur rear, the Centaur vanguard could very well be chased to death by the human cavalry.

If there were no Centaur encampment to the south, these Centaurs might have chosen to abandon their rearguard to survive—scattering in a mad dash, with every individual for themselves. However, the Centaurs’ Southern Camp was just ahead, and the leaders of the Northern Camp Centaurs couldn’t bring themselves to abandon their kin.

The Centaurs’ logistical problems were laid bare at this moment.

In truth, the Sidon Centaurs had a fleeting opportunity for victory. If the Centaurs from the Southern Camp had taken the initiative to attack, joining forces with the northern contingent to rout the pursuers from Logwood City, they could have then turned east and returned to their tribal lands, ensuring their escape.

However, the Sidon Centaurs lacked a Great Khan to make that decision, and the human allied forces were already prepared for such a possibility.

The main cavalry forces of Bright City and Crystal City, led by the Radiant Knights and the Temple Army, all sallied forth. They engaged in a standoff with the Southern Camp Centaurs, posturing for a pincer attack and forcing the southern Centaur leaders to not act rashly.

In the end, the exhausted Northern Camp Centaurs charged into the Southern Camp, while the human forces—two hundred and eighty thousand cavalry, fifty thousand Temple Army soldiers, and the six great knight orders—successfully rendezvoused.

Priest Kent and Emperor Friedrich met outside Bright City, and both sides immediately deployed according to the original plan.

Duke Baselius was given command of one hundred and fifty thousand elite cavalry and the Griffin, Moon Bear, Iron Wall, and Swift Dragon Knight orders to set up a defensive line on the eastern side of the Centaur camp. The Sasan Empire’s supply caravans continuously transported materials to the front lines. The soldiers worked through the night setting up small ballistas, catapults, and chevaux de frise, as well as digging pits and scattering caltrops in preparation to hold the temporary defensive line.

The most powerful Radiant Knights led the Temple Army, along with the Friedrich family’s Blood Wolf Knights and one hundred and thirty thousand cavalry, to approach the Centaur Northern Camp from the north and south, preparing for the main assault.

The battle would not begin immediately. The Northern Camp Centaurs had run three hundred kilometers; they were hungry and tired and needed time to eat and rest. The cavalry from Logwood City were equally exhausted. It was easy for the human soldiers to fill their bellies, and their supplies were ample. The Centaurs, however, had enormous appetites and lacked provisions. The longer the stalemate dragged on, the more advantageous it would be for the human army. It would be best to let them starve for a few days before attacking.

In fact, with the northern and southern Centaur camps combined, one hundred and eighty thousand of the creatures was a rather large number. Priest Kent and Emperor Friedrich would have preferred for the main force from the Giantstone Fortress war zone to enter the Westdon Khanate’s heartland before commencing the battle. However, the Goblins’ cessation of supplies to the Northern Camp Centaurs had forced them to retreat thirty days ahead of schedule. The East Pioneer Fief war zone had to implement its plan to drive them out early. To prevent the hundreds of thousands of Centaurs from making a desperate eastward breakout, Priest Kent had prepared two escape routes for them.

One was at the southeastern corner of the encirclement, pointing towards the Giantstone Mountains. The opening was rather narrow, so not too many Centaurs could pass through at once. If the Centaur army wanted to escape through this route, they would have to do so in batches. Once the number of Southern Camp Centaurs dropped below one hundred and fifty thousand, the human allied forces could launch a general offensive on the camp.

The other route was to the west, leading into the Sasan Empire’s East Pioneer Fief. The land there had already been subjected to a scorched-earth policy; the Centaurs would find absolutely no food if they ran in that direction. They would only slam headfirst into the impregnable eastern defensive line, allowing the human allied forces to close the gate and slaughter the horses.

After finishing the work at hand, Emperor Friedrich finally found the time to summon his heir.

“Zieg, well done.” The Sasan Emperor clapped his son’s shoulder and said with praise, “You did not let the Blood Wolf Banner fall behind.”

Siegfried bowed his head slightly, saying with shame, “Father, my grandfather and uncle positioned me at the rear. I wasn’t able to kill a single Centaur…”

“That’s not important.”

The Sasan Emperor cut Zieg off. His deep gaze fixed on the distant Centaur camp as he said, “The ancestor of the Friedrichs followed the Radiant Knights to fight against the beastmen invaders. He was always at the forefront of every battle, his banner bathed in blood, winning the favor of the Testier family. A golden-haired Paladin noblewoman from the First Paladin family forsook the Supreme Lord’s favor to become the partner of our ancestor’s offspring. Together, they founded the Blood Wolf Family. Although we inherited the most ancient bloodline of the Testiers, the character of the Blood Wolf Family has not changed. However, the Blood Wolf Family of the past is now the Blood Wolf Imperial Family.”

“Have you ever seen a Wolf King hunt alone?”

“Moreover, there is only one Wolf King…” Friedrich turned his head and smiled. “I am the Emperor of Sasan, the King of the Blood Wolves, not you.”

Zieg wanted to argue, but Friedrich waved his hand. “Child, you have fulfilled your duty as Crown Prince by marching with the army. Leave the rest of the battle to me.”

“Father, then I shall remain here and await your command,” Zieg said, seizing the opportunity.

Friedrich glanced at his son and smiled meaningfully. “There is indeed something I need you to do.”

Zieg instantly had a bad feeling, but he maintained a respectful posture. “Please, give your orders.”

They were surrounded by guards of the Sasan imperial family, but Friedrich still glanced around before speaking in a low voice. “I’ve received news that in the battle at Logwood City, the red-armored cavalry of Gambis performed astonishingly. Their strength far exceeds that of ordinary Secret Art Guards and apprentice knights. I believe the Gambis Kingdom has made a major breakthrough in cultivating Secret Art Guards. This fits their national situation. They are tucked away in a corner of the south, lacking the support of the Radiant Knights and the Temple Army. Since they must deal with the Ant-man tide and are preparing for an expansion south of the river, developing Secret Art Guards is the Gambis Kingdom’s top priority. In fact, many, including the Baselius family and the Friedrich family, are secretly researching methods to cultivate Secret Art Guards. I believe Borui and Sus have similar plans.”

“Meanwhile, our Friedrich family and the Dodor Kingdom have the support of the Radiant Knights and the Templars respectively, so we have fallen behind the other powers in the field of Secret Art Guards.”

“The main force on the battlefield will always be the common warriors, who are the most numerous. The heavy cavalry who fight alongside High-ranked Knights are, in reality, bait to protect the Knights. Without the cover provided by these brave warriors, even Gold Knights would find it difficult to break through a beastman horde and would most likely be overwhelmed by the monsters. The red-armored warriors of Gambis have shown us another possibility… a method of warfare comparable to that of the Radiant Knights and the Temple Army, provided our Secret Art Guards can reach the level of those red-armored warriors and keep pace with High-ranked Knights and aberrant war beasts.”

Zieg thought for a moment and replied in a hushed tone, “Father, cultivating a single Secret Art Guard costs at least three thousand Gold Sols. For a Secret Art Guard to reach the level of a red-armored warrior, it would likely cost even more gold, and perhaps the requirements for the candidates would be higher as well.”

The Sasan Emperor nodded. “The strength of a Knight lies in perfect balance. A Sacred Warrior’s courageous divine arts can unify their strength and agility, which is why the Church’s Dragon’s Vein Potion and body reforging also emulate a Knight’s perfect balance. But this is not suitable for the Secret Art Guards of lordly families.”

“Secret Art Guards can choose extremes—immense strength or outstanding agility… As long as it enhances their combat effectiveness, the lower the cultivation cost, the better. The Gambis can deploy over three hundred red-armored warriors at once. They have clearly found the right path.”

“I want you to return to Duncan Fortress now,” the Sasan Emperor said flatly.

Siegfried hesitated for a moment, then stammered, “Father, I… I am to marry a noblewoman from a Paladin family in the future… The Gold-Eyed Earl seems to view Princess Auguste as his future partner. Besides, for something this important, even if I try to curry favor with Roland, it would be useless, wouldn’t it?”

Friedrich paused, then asked, amused, “If it were useful, would you be willing to offend the Gold-Eyed Earl and give up your right of inheritance to pursue Roland Auguste?”

A cold glint appeared in the Emperor’s eyes. Zieg’s heart went cold, and he said solemnly, “Father, I was wrong.”

Friedrich nodded slightly. “Gillian Chapman is His Highness Randall’s only lover. He even withstood the pressure from the Queen of Roses and Aerie Fortress to allow Miss Chapman to remain in his family’s domain, rather than having to join him in the Centaur Hills as his partner. Miss Chapman is in charge of logistics for the main reinforcements from Gambis. Do your best to satisfy any reasonable requests she makes, and don’t let the Quartermaster deliberately make things difficult for her.”

This was a clear instruction: first have the Quartermaster deliberately make things difficult, then step in to solve the problem for Miss Chapman. Zieg understood perfectly, but he was unconvinced.

The cultivation method for Secret Art Guards is so precious. What good would this little trick to curry favor with His Highness Randall do? Father just wants to send me away.

Emperor Friedrich saw through his son’s thoughts. “If the Gambis Kingdom’s method for cultivating Secret Art Guards has already succeeded, it would be useless even if I personally went to negotiate with His Highness Randall. But those red-armored warriors are failed Secret Art Guards. Though fearless and brave, they don’t know how to preserve themselves. No matter how cheap they are to produce, the kingdom cannot afford to keep losing such secret art death commandos.”

“The Southern Continent also has Centaurs. The Gambis used this battle to test the weaknesses of their red-armored warriors. They need to improve their cultivation method, which gives us an opening for cooperation with the Gambis Kingdom.”

“If you don’t go to Duncan Fortress, I’ll let Freya go,” Friedrich said coolly.

Freya Friedrich was Zieg’s half-sister and the future Grand Duchess of the Sasan Empire. Freya was forceful and ambitious. If she got her hands on the method for cultivating Secret Art Guards, she would never hand it over to her little brother, not even if Zieg one day ascended the throne.

Zieg said decisively, “Father, please entrust this matter to me. I will go to Duncan Fortress at once.”

The Alchemical humans who participated in the battle of Logwood City were all over five years of age. They looked no different from normal people, but at their core, they were still alchemical creatures who only followed orders.

Victor had requested that they find a suitable opportunity to return to the tower for re-forging. On one hand, Victor now had ample funds and could fully afford to upgrade his Alchemical humans. On the other, these Alchemical humans had learned many new techniques, and through memory upload, they could enrich the technical reserves of Alchemy Tower No. 7.

Victor never would have imagined that the Alchemical humans, who appeared to have normal emotional intelligence, would actually return as a group by all dying in a single battle. Their “spectacular” performance caught the eyes of the major powers, sparking a competition among the kingdoms to cultivate Secret Art Guards and even changing the course of the future to some extent.

Randall, thousands of kilometers away, was still oblivious to this. He had run into a problem, one not so big, yet not so small either.

Strange Testier, the Stormwind Paladin responsible for scouting the Goblin Lord, and his retinue were not at the predetermined location.

They were missing.

Chapter 653: The Light of Wisdom

The towering peaks of the Giantstone Mountains rise for thousands of meters, a vital water source for both the human kingdoms and the Northern Wildlands. The vegetation and climate here are complex and varied, divided by altitude into broadleaf forests, mixed forests, coniferous forests, meadows, shrublands, and bare rock zones.

To avoid the eyes, ears, and claws of the Goblin Lord, Victor and his party chose to advance eastward, following the shrubland belt of the Giantstone Mountains.

The mountain shrublands have barren soil and scarce resources. No large animals are active there, which naturally means few beastmen or monsters lurk about. The field of vision is wide; if a gnoll or goblin were to leave the dense forest, a traveler could spot them from behind the shrub belt. Conversely, travelers could crouch and use the shrubs as cover to conceal themselves.

Strange Testier’s scout squad had also set up their hiding spot behind the shrubland belt.

Victor and the others had brought plenty of journey rations. When thirsty, they drank from the mountain streams and waterfalls along the way. They could also gather sea buckthorn berries from the bushes for a snack and occasionally hunt one or two of the rock sheep that lived on the steep cliffs for a change of pace. After eight days of travel, the team arrived at the rendezvous point specified in the scout squad’s message.

However, the area was deserted.

It was autumn, the most colorful season of the year. The Giantstone Mountains were a patchwork of brilliant colors. A waterfall hung from the rugged cliff face like a ribbon of white silk, its roar as deafening as a dragon’s. The white spray gathered into a river that reflected the azure sky, meandering through the kaleidoscopic forest.

The surrounding scenery was like a fairytale wonderland, but Victor was in no mood to admire it. He stood on a high cliff with two Stormwind Paladins, gazing into the distance and taking in the view for dozens of kilometers around, yet still, they could not find any trace of Strange or his men.

“Find anything?”

When Victor and the two Testiers returned to the ground, Clement asked with a calm expression.

Howard and Clark exchanged a glance, then looked expectantly at Victor. Of all of them, the Gold-Eyed Earl had the most outstanding Perception; perhaps he had seen some unusual details.

Victor shook his head, his expression grim. “I didn’t see or hear any signs of human activity. Nothing of value within a fifty-kilometer radius, at least.”

He paused, glanced around, and asked in a low voice, “Now, can anyone tell me if Strange Testier and his retinue are still alive?”

Among those present, only Pope Clement could answer that question. A Paladin’s holy power was centered on their Mark of Light. When a Paladin perished, their Mark of Light was vacated. If the Testiers did not use the Golden Horn to perform an investiture for a new Paladin, the empty Mark of Light would remain in the Pool of Holy Power. The Pope and the three Patriarchs held high authority over the Pool of Holy Power and could sense any vacancies through it.

Even if Victor did not understand the mysteries of the Pool of Holy Power, he could guess that a special connection existed between Paladins and it.

Faced with the Gold-Eyed Earl’s probing question, Clement felt a sense of relief. The Pool of Holy Power was a secret kept among the high-ranking clergy. But with Father Miller living in the Randell Fief, Clement wouldn’t have found it strange if Victor had heard about it from him. Since Victor was testing the waters with words, it meant Father Miller was still holding some things back. If Victor had been fully informed, he wouldn’t have needed to ask; Clement would have had to meditate to check if Strange Testier had perished regardless.

The thoughts of a top-tier God-favored were hard to guess. From this small detail, Clement concluded that Miller still stood with the Church, which put his mind at ease.

Closing his eyes, a platinum-gold brilliance seeped from between his lids. A moment later, Clement opened his eyes, looked at Inquisitor-General Trigovar, and nodded. “The Paladin brothers, Strange and Conlar, are still carrying out our Lord’s teachings.”

Trigovar’s expression relaxed. He nodded and said, “Strange alone is so fast that not even a Manticore could catch him. I was worried that Conlar might have slowed him down.”

Conlar Trigovar was the Inquisitor-General’s nephew, a Silver-rank Earth Knight and a level-four Paladin. His combat prowess was on par with a Gold Knight; on his own, there was no way he would hold Strange back.

Victor then asked, “Who else is in His Excellency Strange’s squad?”

“Two Adjudicators from the Inquisition, an animal tamer… and a level-four battle priest,” Trigovar said after a moment’s thought, then added, “Father Karu is from the Benedict family. He is a shepherd of our Lord and also a senior knight.”

A priest who was a senior knight was of little interest to Victor. He faintly sensed the presence of a Wizard kept by the Inquisition.

“The… animal tamer?”

“Bolton, a level-three Sacred Warrior of the Inquisition. The great owl he’s raised for years is extremely intelligent and can understand its master’s intentions and identify monsters. I believe the Testier brothers relied on Bolton’s owl to discover the Goblin Lord and the Manticore,” Trigovar explained without hesitation.

A Sacred Warrior? Then it couldn’t be a Wizard. Perhaps Strange has a few unsavory assistants hiding in the shadows, helpers that Trigovar would never mention in front of the fanatic Ron… Victor thought to himself. His expression remained placid as he said aloud, “We followed the message from His Excellency Strange’s Red-Eyed Crow to get here, but the location might not be precise. We didn’t notice anything unusual on our way, so there’s no need to turn back. I doubt they would hide in the forest, not with the considerable number of gnolls and goblins in there.”

As he spoke, he looked up at the steep cliffs of the Giantstone Mountains and continued, “There are kobold tribes on the cliffs above. We can’t be sure if the nearby kobolds have sworn fealty to the Goblin Lord… To be safe, Strange and his group might have moved. We should keep searching ahead.”

Howard nodded. “That’s all we can do… As we search, Clark, Lester, I, and Cousin Victor will take turns manifesting the void element. If Strange is hiding in the woods nearby, he’ll definitely be able to sense us.”

The group continued their search along the shrubland belt of the Giantstone Mountains. After traveling for another two hundred kilometers, Victor was the first to notice something amiss.

The shrubbery showed signs of being trampled by a large group of creatures, leading to a small, abandoned campsite. Embers from a campfire were scattered everywhere, but there were no human camping supplies around, only a variety of creature tracks.

With a silent understanding, the group stopped at the perimeter, letting the Inquisitor-General go forward alone to carefully inspect the scene.

A moment later, Trigovar beckoned to the group. They approached and listened to his report. “The tracks have been severely disturbed, and I can’t find any human footprints. There are tracks and droppings here from goblins, gnolls, ogres, long-tailed lizard beasts, and mountain dragon-lizards… Judging by the dryness of the excrement, about five days ago, a Hobgoblin riding a Mountain Dragon-Lizard led a force of ten Lizard Beast cavalry, twenty-one Bear-headed Goblins, nineteen Gnoll hunters, and two Ogre bodyguards here. But I can’t determine if the campfire was started by the goblins, or if some other intelligent race lit it and attracted this band of beastmen… There are no bloodstains around, which means even if this beastman force arrived later, they didn’t fight anyone, nor did they capture any prisoners.”

At that moment, a heavy weight settled in everyone’s heart. This camp had almost certainly belonged to Strange’s scout squad. The fact that goblins were mixed with other beastmen and held a dominant position meant they served the two-headed Goblin Lord. Furthermore, Mountain Dragon-Lizards were as renowned as Marsh Dragon-Lizards, both being Silver-rank draconic beasts. That a mere Hobgoblin under the Goblin Lord could enslave a Mountain Dragon-Lizard was a testament to their power.

Most critically, they had a cavalry unit composed of Hobgoblins!

If the Goblin Lord had a formal cavalry unit, then the force he commanded was no mere rabble. It possessed an organizational structure similar to a human kingdom, granting it strong recovery and mobilization capabilities, and giving it the basic means to wage a protracted war against human armies.

Such an opponent was worthy of the title King of Beastmen.

The King of Beastmen must die!

The Goblin Lord must die!

But how difficult was it to find one Goblin Lord in the vast Northern Wildlands? All the alchemical crows Victor had brought from the Randell Fief were dead. He could search this land for three months on his own and still might not find the two-headed goblin.

To narrow down the search for the Goblin Lord, they first had to find Strange and his scout squad.

Where were Strange and the others hiding now?

Narsen turned to Tournans and asked with some agitation, “Tutor, in which direction do you think they are?”

Tournans just snorted, clasped his hands behind his back, and stared at the sky, completely ignoring Narsen.

The Touch of the Mind was not the art of prophecy; it had its limits. Tournans and Caligula could only sense a general direction and distance when people they cared about were in danger. The Church had hundreds of thousands of clergy, but Tournans only knew a few of them, and cared for even fewer.

Strange and Conlar were clearly not among them.

It was highly inappropriate for Narsen to be asking such questions in front of a Testier and a Trigovar. Fortunately, Tournans was thick-skinned and understood the art of composure, so he refrained from calling his disciple an idiot.

Of course, in his mind, he had already called him a stupid bear countless times.

Where the Touch of the Mind failed, Victor’s mind talent, Tracking Intuition, could succeed. He knelt, picked up a handful of ash, and used X-3 to analyze its moisture content, comparing it to the changes in air humidity to calculate the difference and timing.

Clapping his hands, Victor stood up and said, “Seven days ago, the campfire was extinguished with water. Two days later, the beastman trackers arrived at this spot… They left ahead of schedule, which means they knew monsters were heading this way two days in advance.”

“The animal tamer’s owl?”

Trigovar looked surprised, then nodded. “It must have been the owl that spotted the enemy from the air.”

“In that case… the goblin trackers came straight here. They also knew the camp’s location beforehand. Who told them?”

Victor continued his analysis. “The… Manticore. I deduce that His Excellency Strange had not completely shaken off the Manticore at that time. Fourteen days after he rendezvoused with the scout squad and released the Red-Eyed messenger crow, the Manticore tracked him to this vicinity. Strange’s elemental perception detected the Manticore’s presence first. To protect his teammates, he lured the Manticore away… Since the first campsite’s location had been exposed, His Excellency Conlar led the rest of the team, erased all traces of their camp, and moved to this location. However, the Manticore may possess an extraordinary tracking ability. It reported the information to its master—the Goblin Lord. The Goblin Lord dispatched his Hobgoblin subordinate to scout Conlar’s group… The animal tamer’s great owl discovered the goblin cavalry’s movements, forcing Conlar and his men to make an emergency evacuation. They left in such a hurry that they didn’t even have time to bury the campfire embers, simply dousing them with water before fleeing.”

“Why were they in such a hurry?”

Victor rested a hand on his arm and stroked his chin. His dark gold eyes stared down into the vast forest below as he murmured, “The owl suddenly died. Strange wasn’t with them. With the enemy’s situation unknown, they had to move immediately.”

Waves of turmoil crashed within Trigovar’s heart. The Shadow Bishop’s puppetry technique had linked his soul to the great owl. If the owl was dead, the Shadow Bishop hiding in Giantstone Fortress was unlikely to survive. He maintained a calm facade and chuckled.

“His Highness Randell’s wisdom is extraordinary, as if you had seen it yourself.”

Victor’s dark gold eyes, devoid of emotion, swept over Trigovar. He continued, “Sylvia told me the Manticore’s gaze can inflict a Legendary-level poison that acts directly on the level of the soul, with the effects feeding back to the body. No matter how high the owl flew, it couldn’t escape the Manticore’s deadly poison. The question is, why did the Manticore have time, and why did it kill the great owl?”

“The answer is, it let Strange get away again… After shaking off the Manticore by taking a long detour, Strange, guided by the great owl, attempted another surprise attack on the Goblin Lord.”

He glanced at the beastman-trampled camp, his eyes returning to their normal hue. He let out a breath and said, “Obviously, Strange failed again. The Manticore was summoned back by the Goblin Lord, returning just in time to block Strange’s assault, and then it poisoned the ‘eye in the sky’. The Goblin Lord doesn’t dare let his pet leave his side now, so he sent the Lizard Beast cavalry here to investigate.”

The crowd was silent, almost looking up at Victor in awe of his wisdom.

Tournans cleared his throat and said steadily, “Ahem, just as I thought… Uh, Victor, where do you think they are now?”

While the others were still stifling their laughter, Ron, clad in simple cloth and barefoot, walked up to Tournans and said in a flat tone, “The Lord says the clergy have the virtue of humility.”

Tournans’s head drooped, looking like a well-behaved child.

The group burst into laughter. Caligula also started to laugh foolishly, immediately earning a glare from the First Sacred Warrior.

Victor smiled. “I don’t know where they are, but…” He raised his head, looking at the overlapping peaks of the Giantstone Mountains, and said, “I believe they would have climbed up the cliffs from here.”

Unconsciously, Victor had taken command of the party. He gave orders to his three Alchemical Soldiers: “You three stay behind, watch over His Holiness the Pope’s Horned Wolf mounts, and set up camp three hundred kilometers to the west. Take three Red-Eyed messenger crows. If any special situation arises, release a crow to notify us.”

A Sacred Warrior from Clement’s side stepped forward and handed three Red-Eyed messenger crows to the three Alchemical Soldiers.

The lead Alchemical Soldier asked respectfully, “Master, what counts as a special situation?”

Victor said coolly, “If you encounter an enemy and can’t escape… before you are sacrificed, send me your position and a brief report on the enemy with a crow.”

“As you wish, Honored Master.” The Alchemical Soldier saluted Victor, then led the Horned Wolf mounts back the way they had come.

“It’s unlikely they’ll encounter an enemy,” Victor explained simply, mostly to cover his intentions, then turned to the others. “Let’s head up… I reckon Conlar and his men will have left trail markers for Strange.”

There wasn’t an ordinary person among them. Even the physically weakest, the Pope, was a knight whose mind and body were one. Though the cliff was steep, he would have no problem climbing it, especially with Tournans and Ron, two top-tier Sacred Warriors, below him.

The mountain wind howled, sharp as a knife. Victor grabbed Clement’s arm, summoning a gentle current of air to envelop them both, and they rapidly ascended the cliff. The others followed close behind, one after another, reaching the top.

Victor scanned the area and, a few seconds later, spotted an arrow-shaped carving on a rock.

“This makes it simple.”

Testier stepped forward, touched the carving, and said, “The three bars under the arrow…”

“I know, it means the next marker is three li away in this direction,” Tournans shouted, cutting him off. He strode to the front and waved. “Come on, I’ll lead you to the Testier brothers.”

Chapter 654: A Startling Discovery

Following the trail markers left by the scout squad, the team journeyed for two days and a night through the rugged, snow-covered mountains, trekking at the fastest pace Pope Clement could endure. Still, they had not managed to rendezvous with Conlar and his men. It was only thanks to Victor’s Tracking Intuition and extraordinary vision that he was always able to accurately find the trail markers left by Paladin Conlar, ensuring they wasted no time.

As the sun began to dip below the mountains, the shadows of the ridges slowly stretched out. The biting wind, thick with snow, seemed to pour its chill straight through their leather armor. Victor decided to make camp for the night and resume tracking the scout squad the next morning. This would allow the two priests to recover their strength and vigor, maintaining their ability to cast spells effectively in case of any sudden developments ahead.

Victor chose a sheltered mountain hollow as a resting spot. Tournans led Narsen, Caligula, the Sacred Warriors, and five Alchemical Soldiers to move stones, building a low, circular wall to block the wind. They then stretched oilcloth and animal hides over it to serve as a roof. Clement and Kalomon, the two priests, retreated into the makeshift shelter and began to meditate with their eyes closed.

Once that was done, Tournans found himself with some free time and sought out Narsen and the Alchemical Soldiers to spar, though he seemed to have forgotten Caligula.

Aka was still a little afraid of Tournans, and besides, he had little interest in fighting. Cooking was his true love.

Taking his beloved small stove and a set of cookware from a special pack frame, Aka hummed a nursery rhyme as he lit the charcoal. He then took some wild vegetables he had gathered along the way to a mountain stream to wash, bringing back a large jug of fresh water. Into the jug, he poured wheat grains, nuts, dried mushrooms, cured venison, and sausage, then set it on the stove to cook.

Tournans sparred with the Secret Art Guards of the Randall family. The combat techniques they used were also based on the Gryphon and Gray Wolf Combat Techniques, but each had taken a different path of Integration. The difference was that one was refined through the drills of a Legendary Sacred Warrior, while the other was loaded and integrated by an Alchemy Tower. Victor watched their match, feeling he had gained a great deal, and secretly began his own Deduction for a new Sundering Method for his bloodline warrior path.

Everyone else watched with great interest, with the sole exception of Master Ron. With his hands clasped behind his back, he stood by the stove, watching Caligula cook.

Aka lifted his head, shot a quick glance at Victor, and asked in a hushed voice, “Great Tutor, do you like the meat and grain porridge Aka makes?”

Ron was Tournans’ tutor and a Sacred Warrior Master, so Caligula called him “Great Tutor.” Though simple and dull-witted, he knew to curry favor with those of high status. The Sacred Warrior before him was of very high standing and held good intentions toward him, so of course, he should try to please him with the most delicious meat and grain porridge. However, his master did not like him getting too close to this Master and Tutor, so Aka had to be very careful in his fawning attempts.

Ron could sense the seed of light deep within Caligula’s pure soul. The more he looked at the big simpleton, the more he liked him. He asked gently, “Brother Aka, who taught you how to cook?”

Caligula lowered his head, not wanting Victor to see him talking with Ron, and replied in a tiny voice, “Master said that people who love to eat must learn to cook well. The chef at Silver Moon Manor said Aka was too big and took up space in the kitchen, so he wouldn’t teach Aka. Aka watched from outside the window and learned how to cook meat and grain porridge and roast meat. Aka’s roast meat is even better than his porridge… There are only rocks here and no grass. Without grass, there’s no meat, so Aka can’t treat Great Tutor to roast meat.”

“Simple.”

Ron nodded, then turned and left the camp alone. Caligula watched the plainly dressed, barefoot “Great Tutor” leave by himself. He dared not ask questions, nor did he dare to hide it. He wanted to tell his master but was afraid of being scolded. After a long moment of indecision, he finally ran to tell Victor.

The Church had gathered the top experts of the human kingdoms to kill the Goblin Lord, but Ron had come specifically to hunt the Manticore. He certainly didn’t need anyone to worry about him. Victor paid Caligula no mind. The big simpleton was completely oblivious to the fact that his master was afraid Ron would lure him away to the Church to become a Sacred Warrior.

Before long, Ron returned to the camp. In one hand, he carried a plump rock goat; in the other, he held a dead tree. He called Caligula over to chop firewood and roast the goat together.

Catching a rock goat was nothing remarkable; everyone in the team could do it with ease. But Victor clearly remembered that the nearest flock of rock goats was a straight-line distance of nineteen kilometers away, a thirty-eight-kilometer round trip. Yet, Sacred Warrior Ron had returned with a goat in just thirty-four minutes.

To Victor, Ron’s speed was unremarkable, but his grasp of time was astonishingly precise. From the moment he left the camp to his return with the prey and firewood, Caligula’s meat and grain porridge was not yet done. By the time they prepared the animal and lit the fire to roast it, everyone would be able to enjoy the hot porridge and roast goat at the same time.

This fully demonstrated Master Ron’s perfect control over the interaction of the four major elements: time, space, self, and the external world. According to Tournans, this was a matter of trading time for space and space for time—transcending the shackles of life through this interchange, allowing a rabbit to defeat a wolf, and an ordinary person to defeat an Ogre. It was the ultimate key to victory.

The creator of the Golden Toad Mystic Form had another way of expressing this: Oneness with nature, a state where there is nowhere one cannot reach.

Unfortunately, the grandmaster from Earth had likely spent his entire life without ever reaching the realm of Oneness with nature. In this world, however, Victor had seen more than one such “celestial being.” Sylvia was at the very pinnacle; by controlling the elements, she perceived all changes in time and space, killing the Ant-man chief amidst the Ant-man tide as if strolling through an empty courtyard.

With his immense computational power, Victor’s grasp of time was accurate to ten milliseconds. He, too, had reached the realm of Oneness with nature, beheading the berserk Ogre Warlord as easily as taking something from his own pocket. But he was still incapable of simultaneously calculating thousands of Ant-men on a battlefield.

Tournans and Ron used psychic intuition to grasp the connection between spacetime, themselves, and the outside world. Theirs was a different path to the same destination as a High-ranked Knight’s elemental perception or Victor’s precise calculations—they had all reached the celestial realm. But Victor still couldn’t tell who was stronger: Ron or himself?

The strong are always respected. A man of common birth like Ron, who had tempered the power of the mind to such a degree, had likely approached the highest level a mortal could achieve. If humanity was divided into Knights, Savage state humans, Bloodline talent humans, and ordinary people, Ron’s path was the most universal and thus the most valuable. Victor had already begun to reverse-engineer the soul talents that constituted X-3, and he knew very well that because he had integrated the Moon Elf bloodline, his own path was the narrowest.

Victor disliked Ron, as the Sacred Warrior Master was constantly trying to poach Caligula, but at the same time, he coveted Ron’s experience.

Caligula ran over to the mountain stream to prepare the rock goat, while Ron split the firewood with his bare hands. Once they had set up the spit and lit the bonfire, Victor sat down by the flames, and the flickering fire instantly grew still and calm.

The Son of the Wind was, after all, a Legendary creature.

Seeing that even his master was looking forward to his barbecue, Aka was greatly encouraged and put his all into roasting the goat meat.

The orange tongues of fire licked at the skin-on goat, and a fragrant aroma gradually began to fill the air. Victor asked with sincerity, “Master Ron, my retinue Aka is naturally timid and fears dangerous combat. How do you think he should overcome this weakness of the mind?”

The Sacred Warrior glanced at Victor, his gaze returning to the bonfire. He said seriously, “Pious faith is the source of all Virtues. Reliance on the Supreme Lord will bring peace, contentment, and even courage.” He then added with great certainty, “Our Lord will surely show Caligula the path forward.”

Faith was necessary, and as long as pious faith didn’t conflict with loyalty, it wasn’t a major problem. But fanatical faith… This was where the conversation had to end.

The three Gold Paladins, as if drawn by the warmth of the fire and the aroma of the roasting meat, gathered around. Trigovar spoke first, breaking the awkward atmosphere between Victor and Master Ron.

“Conlar and his men are heading straight west through the mountains… Are they afraid of dragging Strange down and trying to return to Giantstone Fortress on their own? If that’s the case, it will take us even more time to catch up to them, and we might not even run into Strange.”

“I doubt it.”

Howard Testier prodded the firewood with his longsword, making the flames burn more intensely. “I believe the clergy of the Inquisition would not abandon their mission. Strange needs assistance as well. If Conlar and his group truly wanted to return to Giantstone Fortress, they would have certainly left coded markers, not just trail signs along the way.”

Vice-Commander Clark added, “The higher reaches of the Giantstone Mountains are barren. There is water, but no prey and no firewood. Conlar and his men skirmished with the Goblin Lord’s forces for over twenty days at the foot of the mountains, so they can’t have many supplies left. Their forced march must have a destination.”

A High-ranked Knight, through their internal and external communion with the void element, would not starve or die of thirst. However, the Elemental Sea would eventually assimilate any High-ranked Knight who discarded their humanity, leaving only their divine nature. Besides, Conlar had Sacred Warriors with him, and they would surely starve without food for an extended period.

A team’s limit is defined by its weakest member.

Victor nodded. “I can sense that they have stopped… We should see them before noon tomorrow.”

Caligula took the roast goat off the spit and announced proudly, “The goat is ready… and so is the porridge.”

In truth, even without Aka’s call, everyone had already been drawn over by the aroma. Each person ladled a bowl of hot meat and grain porridge and took a share of the roast meat. Huddled around a fire in the barren, cold mountains, sharing a hot meal was a rare pleasure in itself. It also brought them closer. Amidst laughter and conversation, the roast goat and porridge were quickly devoured. Even the Pope praised Caligula’s excellent cooking skills.

Well-fed and content, they each went to sleep. The next morning, the team continued its advance.

As noon approached, Victor heard a muffled sound of rushing water. It wasn’t the deafening roar of a normal waterfall but sounded more like a waterfall hidden within the mountain itself.

The direction of the sound coincided exactly with his Nemesis Tracking Intuition. Suppressing the questions in his mind, Victor led the team to pick up the pace.

After rounding two peaks, Victor heard the sounds of human conversation and activity. He arrived before a cliff, manifested the void wind element onto an arrow, and let it fly. With a hum of the bowstring, a stream of indigo light shot a thousand meters into the sky and exploded with a boom. The turbulent air currents howled, tearing open a patch of mountain mist. A golden sunbeam lanced down, forming a brilliant pillar of light upon the cliff.

The magnificent display left everyone stunned and mesmerized. A tall figure in leather armor appeared within the pillar of light, waving down at Victor and his group from above.

“It’s Conlar… Let’s go up.” Trigovar let out a breath of relief, then his brow furrowed.

Strange had not appeared; he was clearly not here. So, where was the Testier family’s Stormwind Paladin?

The cliff was over four hundred meters high, but it didn’t take them long to climb it. Upon reaching the top, everyone’s eyes widened in utter disbelief.

A colossal structure entered Victor’s sight. Its base was rectangular, and it rose for thirty-six stories, each 7.4 meters high. Its length and width decreased with each successive level, similar to the pyramids of Earth—the most stable and simple of architectural designs. Yet, the stonework of this building had no visible seams, as if it had grown naturally from the peak, or as if some gigantic, intelligent creature had carved the mountain itself into a magnificent tower.

Who could have built such a majestic wonder in the depths of the Giantstone Mountains?

“Ruins of an ancient Wizard civilization… The coarse architectural style isn’t as delicate and refined as the Wizard City-states. Could it be an architectural ruin from the early Era of the Chosen?” Howard exclaimed, too excited to even greet Conlar.

No! It was a ruin of the ancient Alchemical Empire.

…A lost Alchemy Tower!

Listening to the sound of rushing water from within the mountain’s belly, Victor’s sharp gaze fixed on the front of the ruins. There, he saw a weathered and fragmented stone tablet. Although the characters on the tablet were blurred and difficult to discern, Victor recognized them. It was the script of the Alchemical Empire, identical to the ancient characters he had been infused with when he activated Alchemical Soldier No. 7.

X-3 automatically completed some of the fragmented text. It read:

Empire, Giant God… ..th… Legion… No. .. Alchemy Tower.

Chapter 655: The Second Type of Alchemical Creature

The Alchemical Empire fell over twenty thousand years ago, but its history can be traced back at least forty thousand years. In its existence of over ten thousand years, the ancient Alchemists created a glorious human civilization and left behind a rich legacy for posterity.

Why a legacy, and not ruins?

Based on the historical materials he had collected, Victor was certain that the ancient Wizard City-states of the Chosen were all cities left behind by the Alchemical Empire. These cities had continued to play a role throughout human history and were never forgotten by mankind.

This was, of course, a legacy, not the ruins of a lost civilization.

Since the Chosen and the Knights of the ancient City-states had inherited the legacy of the Alchemical Empire, and the Radiant Church and the secular lords had in turn overthrown the Chosen to take their place on the throne of rulers, then why was there such a huge gap in the human kingdoms’ knowledge of the ancient Alchemical Empire?

Victor had repeatedly run deductions with the X-3 and pieced together a possible answer.

The Alchemical Empire occupied the vast lands north of the Goldwater River, with a sphere of influence possibly larger than the current human kingdoms and the Northern Wildlands combined. The larger the territory, the weaker the central dynasty’s control over the regions, inevitably leading to the formation of various secessionist powers. It was just like the empire on which the sun never sets from Earth, whose colonies across the globe declared independence one by one even after the invention of the telegraph, trains, and ocean liners.

Therefore, the early Alchemical Empire must have been a loose alliance of human City-states, each self-sufficient and possessing formidable military strength. They did not need to submit to the rule of a single, powerful regime.

However, the Taelon World was different from Earth. The existence of extraordinary power here meant that the civilization’s Superstructure was entirely different. The extraordinary individuals in the human City-states held unshakable ruling power, so unlike the ancient emperors of Earth, they did not fear being overthrown by the populace.

Simply put, the power of the Wizard and knight class in the City-states was a birthright. They were all lazy about governmental affairs and indifferent to power, being instead obsessed with the pursuit of mystical forces.

Their shared interests and research topics connected the Wizards of the various City-states, gradually leading to the prototype of the Mages’ Association.

The Mages’ Association was formed by genius Wizards from the various City-states, and their greatest achievement was turning Gold Knights into Alchemists.

Victor had already confirmed that the ancient Alchemists were all High-ranked Knights. He defined an Alchemist as a High-ranked Knight capable of using alchemical models to manifest void elements as the Laws of matter.

This held an unimaginable attraction for the High-ranked Knights of the various City-states.

Take Sylvia for example. Although she was an exalted Spirit Knight, her use of void elements still operated within the confines of the void element itself, remaining in a primitive and crude state. If she knew there was a way to use void elements to create an alchemical creature, she would surely be ecstatic. After all, this represented the transformation of Origin Law into the laws of reality—an authority belonging to the Creator.

The High-ranked Knights of every City-state wanted to become Alchemists, and they flocked to the Mages’ Association. When the number of Alchemists reached a critical mass, a new organization was born—the Alchemical Council.

The Mages’ Association and the Alchemical Council were two sides of the same coin, essentially a joint organization of the top Archwizards and great Alchemists. They not only controlled vast resources but also monopolized the advancement paths for Wizards and High-ranked Knights.

Any organization needs new blood and is bound to have rules, eventually forming a political force. The Alchemical Empire was thus established, but the ruling Alchemical Council and Mages’ Association remained organizations geared toward the study of the mystical. They had no Emperor and cared little for secular power.

This determined the political structure and mode of operation of the early Alchemical Empire. The City-states provided resources to the Alchemical Council and Mages’ Association in exchange for the qualification for their own Wizards and High-ranked Knights to join the organizations and seek new powers, thus forming a grand alliance of City-states led by Alchemists and Mages.

The Mages’ Association and the Alchemical Council would periodically select Wizards and Knights from the allied City-states as their apprentices. The Knight families and Wizard Towers of the allied City-states considered it an honor to join the organizations, even fighting tooth and nail over the limited spots.

As the allied City-states were scattered and far apart, the Archmages and great Alchemists at the top of the Alchemical Empire’s hierarchy only had influence over the members of the alliance, lacking administrative power. They had not built a top-down administrative system. In order to acquire more resources from the allied City-states, the Alchemical Council and Mages’ Association had to whet their appetites by limiting the number of apprentices they accepted and keeping their research findings secret.

This caused the traditions of the Council and the Association to become closed rather than open, which inevitably created a rift between the upper and lower echels of the Alchemical Empire, resulting in two separate administrative systems—the system of the Council and Association, and the individual systems of each City-state.

These two non-interfering administrative systems within the Alchemical Empire were the fundamental reason for the loss of alchemical civilization.

In the middle and late stages of the Alchemical Empire, the human City-states suffered a full-scale invasion from an unknown race. The City-states suffered repeated defeats, and the crisis of annihilation greatly strengthened the cohesion of the Association and the Council. When the great Alchemists and Archmages invented the alchemy of void creation, they mobilized resources to build countless Alchemy Towers, using a ceaseless stream of alchemical creatures to defeat the invaders and drive them back to their lair.

To completely eliminate the threat of the invaders, the Empire’s great Alchemists and Archmages secretly conducted forbidden research, creating the ultimate weapon of war—the Lord of Radiance.

But one must not forget that the mystical knowledge possessed by the Alchemical Empire most likely came from the Whisperers, or rather, from those ancient gods who had triumphed in the Eternal War and thereby altered their form of life.

The creation of the Lord of Radiance by the Alchemical Council and Mages’ Association angered the Whisperers. The specific reason was unknown to Victor, but various signs indicated that the mastermind behind the sudden failure of the Alchemy Towers and the abrupt fall of the Alchemical Empire was none other than the Whisperers.

If the Whisperers had managed to catch all the Archmages and great Alchemists in one net, leaving none behind, then all research on the Lord of Radiance would have ground to a halt.

The Alchemy Towers had an information transmission network. When the Alchemy Towers suddenly failed, the various City-states could no longer contact the members of the Council. Subsequently, the legacy of the Alchemists was severed, and the alliance of City-states dissolved. The disappearance of the Alchemists and Archmages became a mystery to the City-states. A few thousand years later, even this mystery was forgotten, and the City-states returned to their original autonomous state.

This was why the human kingdoms of today knew only of the ancient Chosen, but not of the existence of the Alchemical Empire.

Very few ruins of the Alchemical Empire remained, and even if they were unearthed, they would be categorized as relics of the ancient Chosen’s civilization.

Testier had said this structure was a relic from the early civilization of the ancient Chosen. In a general sense, his view was not wrong. Only Victor knew the special value of this civilized relic and the extremely important practical significance it held for him personally.

Unfortunately, now was not a good time to explore the ruins and obtain the legacy of the Alchemical Empire.

Victor suppressed the throbbing in his heart, showing no trace of anything unusual as he exchanged greetings with the members of the Inquisition’s scout squad.

“Master Ron?!”

When the Inquisition’s scout squad saw the Sacred Warrior Ron behind Caligula, they all showed expressions of reverence. Paladin Conlar Trigovar stepped forward, gave a clerical salute, and said with pleasant surprise, “Master, we never expected you to come as well.”

Ron gave a cool nod, his platinum-tinged eyes turning to the level four Sacred Warrior beside him. He asked, “Where is the Sky-Patroller?”

The Sacred Warrior’s lips trembled. He lowered his head and stammered, “The Sky-Patroller… is missing. It might be dead.”

Inquisitor-General Trigovar inwardly despaired. His Highness Randall’s wisdom was extraordinary, able to see the big picture from small details. Who could be sure what he might deduce from this baffling exchange between Ron and the animal tamer?

Trigovar turned and explained to the Pontiff, “The Sky-Patroller is that big owl… Large owls have very long lifespans. Its previous master was a good friend of Master Ron, which is why Ron recognizes the Sky-Patroller.”

The Gold-Eyed Earl seemed to pay no mind to the Inquisitor-General’s explanation, turning his head to gaze with great interest at the magnificent ruins.

Clement nodded and asked, “Brother Conlar, what exactly have you encountered these past few days? Where is Strange?”

“Vice-commander Strange is out hunting. He should be back soon.” Conlar gestured with his hand and said, “Let’s head to our camp first, and I will explain the situation to you, my lords.”

The scout squad led the group up to the twentieth floor of the ruins. Their camp was set up in a sheltered corner, with a few sheepskins laid out on the open stone ground. Weapons, miscellaneous items, and some dried meat were piled nearby. Other than that, there was nothing else, not even a campfire.

They had been living a primitive life, eating and drinking whatever they could find, for quite some time now.

Victor’s gaze swept the area before he turned and instructed, “Aka, light the stove. Heat a bag of Purple Cane wine first, then boil some hot water.”

Aka was more than happy to do these chores; it made him feel useful to everyone. The frame on his back could carry over three hundred pounds of supplies, containing all the necessities for a long journey, which of course included wine.

While Aka was busy lighting the fire and warming the wine, Victor spoke up, “Your Excellency Conlar Trigovar, how did you find these ruins?”

Paladin Conlar had a rustic and unkempt appearance, looking even older than his uncle Lester. He smiled and said, “Your Highness, these ruins were first discovered by the Sky-Patroller… oh, that’s the big owl. At first, we didn’t think much of this place. We planned to complete our mission first and then come back to explore the ruins. Vice-commander Strange’s first attempt to assassinate the Goblin Lord failed, and he was pursued by a Manticore. He led the Manticore in circles around the mountain to buy us time to move. He stumbled into these ruins and was surprised to find that the Manticore seemed unwilling to set foot here. It lingered at the base of the cliff for a moment and then tried to leave.”

“The Vice-commander chased after it and shot a few arrows at the Manticore, deliberately angering it before running back to the ruins. As it turned out, the Manticore pursued him to the base of the cliff and stopped. The Vice-commander tried several times and confirmed that the Manticore could not enter these ancient ruins. The specific reason is unknown, but My lord Strange believed this place could serve as our sanctuary.”

The aroma of wine wafted from the thin iron pot on the stove. The few Sacred Warriors of the scout squad couldn’t help but swallow. Seeing that the wine was warm, Caligula courteously poured a cup for everyone. The Sacred Warriors thanked the big simpleton with a salute, and he offered a silly grin in return.

Conlar took a sip of the Purple Cane wine and said with satisfaction, “After half a month of eating raw meat and wild fruit, a cup of warm wine feels truly comforting.”

“Vice-commander Testier originally tasked us with gathering some supplies and moving camp here. With his rear secure, he could then attempt to assassinate that two-headed goblin again. Eight days ago, the Sky-Patroller didn’t return on time, and I immediately realized the Manticore had poisoned it. Without eyes in the sky, our situation became even more dangerous. So, we immediately moved to the sanctuary, without having prepared enough supplies.”

“Later, the Vice-commander came, and the Manticore tracked him to the base of the cliff. It lingered for a while before retreating. Our priest performed a Cleansing Art to remove the poison from My lord Testier. After that, My lord Testier has been acting alone, looking for opportunities to shoot the Goblin Lord. He used his Semi-elementalization ability and a Paladin’s Restoration Art to withstand the Manticore’s potent poison, then returned here for treatment.”

Paladin Conlar’s account largely matched Victor’s deductions. Grand Commander Testier shook his head and sighed, “Strange is too reckless…”

Strange’s repeated failed attempts to assassinate the Goblin Lord meant that the target had already grasped his abilities and would have certainly devised effective countermeasures, which invisibly increased the difficulty of the mission for Victor and the others.

Victor smiled elegantly and said, “We can only formulate a detailed assassination plan after His Excellency Strange returns. This ancient site is magnificent and spectacular. Your Excellency Conlar, have you been inside to have a look?”

Conlar put down his oak cup and shook his head. “We can’t get in… We’ve searched carefully several times but haven’t found any door to enter or exit.”

“It’s a single, solid structure. But we’ve confirmed that the mountain’s interior is hollow… You’ve also heard the sound of water from inside.” He paused, pointed to the top of the snowy peak, and continued, “The Vice-commander once climbed to the summit alone and found a bottomless crevasse. The melting snow flows into it, forming a waterfall. After surveying the terrain, the Vice-commander concluded that to get down and back up, one would need a rope ladder several hundred meters long. Otherwise, there’s a risk of being swept away by the underground river.”

Victor blinked and chuckled, “If Cousin Strange couldn’t get down, then I can’t either… Besides the waterfall inside the mountain, is there anything else special about these ruins?”

The battle priest from the scout squad chimed in, “The building has many severely weathered ancient characters and patterns that are difficult to make out, with little chance of restoration. However, on the top platform of the ruins, there are fourteen well-preserved, giant stone spheres. Their surfaces are rough and uneven, yet they aren’t as severely weathered.”

Victor’s first thought was of a Core of the Earth, but this battle priest perked up when he spoke of the ruins’ special features, indicating he was a scholar-priest. He couldn’t possibly mistake an ordinary stone sphere for a Core of the Earth.

Pontiff Clement asked with interest, “What are your thoughts on this?”

The Inquisition’s battle priest said excitedly, “His Holiness, judging from the degree of weathering and the stone carving techniques, I believe these ruins are from the early Wizard City-state era. Their function is unknown, and they date back more than fifteen thousand years, but the stone spheres on the top level can’t be more than four hundred years old. In other words, those stone spheres were moved here from somewhere else by some creatures four hundred years ago and placed on top of the ruins.”

Paladin Conlar interjected, “I have a different opinion on that. I think those stone spheres ‘grew’ here. Because even with my full strength, I couldn’t budge any of them. Their bases seem to be fused with the ruins, and the ruins are clearly fused with the mountain peak. I don’t believe any intelligent race could have placed these stone spheres on top of the ruins.”

“Ha, that’s the first I’ve heard of buildings ‘growing’ stones,” sneered Karu, the battle priest from the Benedict family, who was close with Paladin Conlar.

Conlar retorted, “Doesn’t a Core of the Earth ‘grow’?”

“Those are not Cores of the Earth… You said it yourself, they are not condensations of the Void Earth Element.” Priest Karu spread his hands and continued, “Moreover, if a Core of the Earth is exposed to the air for a long time, it will disintegrate in a matter of years and lose its Void Earth Element properties.”

Victor stood up and smiled, “Since we have to wait for Cousin Strange to return anyway, let’s use the time to go up and have a look.”

Without waiting for a reply, he leaped to the top level. On the platform, which was about two square kilometers, three-meter-high round stone spheres were scattered randomly. Their surfaces were uneven and dark brown, appearing to be ordinary limestone spheres. Victor quickly drew close and placed his palm on one of the spheres. The cold, hard touch was no different from that of an ordinary stone.

The base of the stone sphere was embedded in the platform, looking as if it had grown there. Victor tried to push it, but the sphere didn’t move an inch.

This was within his expectations. In terms of strength, a Silver-rank Earth Knight was not much weaker than a Gold Knight. Not only was Conlar an Earth Knight, but he was also a level four Paladin. The Sacred Domain protected his soul from the erosion of the Elemental Sea, allowing him to mobilize power that surpassed the peak of the Silver rank. Most importantly, a High-ranked Knight with an affinity for the earth element, in a state of Semi-elementalization, was connected to the earth, immune to knockback and sinking, and able to exert one hundred percent of their strength on a target.

If Conlar couldn’t move the stone sphere with all his might, then Victor would be powerless as well, but he had to try it for himself.

His eyes turned completely dark gold, and a portion of the water element in his body was converted into the earth element. The power contained within his Body of Bedrock surpassed that of a Gold Knight of the Earth, equivalent to the combined strength of a Silver-rank Raging Wave Knight and an Earth Knight.

Victor’s slender, fair hand reached for the stone sphere again.

“Wait! It is not a dead thing.”

Deactivating his Body of Bedrock, Victor turned to see Ron, the plain-robed, barefoot Sacred Warrior, walk past the others and approach in a few steps. He placed a hand without palm lines on the sphere’s surface and said in a low voice:

“I can feel it. It hides the seeds of life. When you touched it, they stirred.”

“Sun Elf, do not awaken them… They are powerful, so powerful that the Manticore dares not set foot in these ruins.” Ron gave Victor a deep look before retreating to Pontiff Clement’s side.

Tournans met Victor’s shocked and suspicious gaze and nodded slightly, his expression grave. “I felt it just now as well, but… they bear no ill will, no danger.”

Everyone’s gaze on Victor instantly turned strange—a mix of envy, surprise, doubt, and an imperceptible hint of worry.

“Could it be… the ruins of a temple left by the ancient Elves? Are these stone spheres the temple’s guardians? I remember, the ancient stone tablets in the Ivory Sanctum record… that the Elves had a rare vassal race of dwarves. They were tall and built, with an average height of three meters and immense strength. They were called the Giant-Dwarf race.”

The battle priest Karu grew more and more excited as he spoke, his voice gradually rising. “If the legends are true, the Giant-Dwarf race would have been fully capable of carving a mountain peak into a temple of this scale…”

Clement coughed, and Priest Karu came to his senses and quickly fell silent.

“Victor, we should leave here for now and wait for Strange on the lowest level,” the Pontiff said in a gentle tone.

Testier also said, “Yes, Cousin Victor, the ruins won’t disappear. In the future, we can choose a suitable time to return and unearth its secrets. It would be best to invite Sylvia and His Highness York to come with us.”

With Sword Saint Draven’s past failure as a lesson, the Pontiff and the Grand Commander worried that these ruins might cause Victor to also inexplicably leave the human kingdoms in pursuit of the Elves. If Victor really chose to leave one day, no one could stop him, but he at least had to have offspring of noble Bloodline with Sylvia before he could depart.

Victor sheepishly withdrew his hand, his mind a turbulent sea.

How could this be a temple of the Elves? It was clearly an Alchemy Tower, and these stone spheres were simply some kind of special alchemical creature.

Living alchemical creatures… Could this Alchemy Tower be alive?

If this is a living Alchemy Tower, who is its master?

Chapter 656: Intense Preparations

Victor was starting to panic.

Alchemy Towers had to be established in places where the four major elements were in balanced convergence. Such places were not necessarily major city-states of the Alchemical Empire; they could be in the wilderness, deep within dense forests, or, like the Giantstone Mountains, nestled in rugged mountain ranges. If the elemental balance of a region was ever disrupted, the Alchemy Tower would cease to function.

Out of wartime necessity, the ancient Alchemists had designed an emergency repair method for the Alchemy Towers.

The Rune Crystals of different Alchemy Towers could absorb and fuse with each other, repairing and upgrading a tower to its full glory. The prerequisite was that an owned Alchemy Tower had to absorb an ownerless one. If an Alchemy Tower already had a master, then the first step was to make it masterless.

Anyone who met the conditions for soul division could become the master of an Alchemy Tower, and then take its Rune Crystal to absorb those of other defunct towers.

Considering the long span of time, Victor was likely not the first person in ten thousand years to activate an Alchemy Tower, nor would he be the last. He had already fused two Rune Crystals into Alchemy Tower No. 7. If he were to perish one day, Alchemy Tower No. 7 would revert to an ownerless state. Should a successor then absorb its Rune Crystal, the civilization of the Alchemical Empire would inevitably be reborn with the passage of time.

However, contemporary masters of Alchemy Towers were destined to be natural nemeses. Just like Victor and the Ant-man, one was fated to become a stepping stone for the other.

Victor had originally thought this Alchemy Tower deep in the mountains was an ownerless one, but Ron, the Sacred Warrior, had told him that the fourteen great stone spheres were living creatures—and very powerful ones at that, capable of making a Manticore halt in its tracks.

No one knew better than Victor just how powerful top-tier alchemical creatures could be. Take the Dragon Warriors for example: they could transform into Dragon Beasts and possessed talents comparable to Dragons, making them bona fide Legendary creatures.

The strongest combat units of Alchemy Tower No. 7 were the Alchemical Soldiers. Three of them working together could kill an Alchemical Dragon-Lizard, but they were still a far cry from a Manticore.

A flurry of thoughts raced through Victor’s mind. Perhaps the master of this Alchemy Tower had died centuries ago, and its guardians had entered a special state of slumber, preserving the embers of their life force. Or perhaps the master was hiding in some corner of the human world, completely unaware of the uninvited guests, or—Victor had just alerted him.

An Alchemy Tower requires a massive sacrifice of resources to maintain its operation. When I get back, I’ll send alchemical creatures to scout for any nearby mining activity. That will tell me if this tower is active or dead… In any case, the situation is unclear, and I can’t distinguish friend from foe. It’s best to leave at once… Victor placed a hand on his sword hilt, glanced around, and said with a calm expression:

“Let’s go down to the cliffs and wait for His Excellency Strange. If the Manticore dares to follow, we can kill it there.”

Clement and Howard were also panicking.

Before they arrived, the ruin was just a ruin, and the “stone spheres” were just round balls made of stone. But the moment Victor touched one, the stone spheres turned into the ruin’s guardians. They believed the difference between Victor and everyone else was his High Elf bloodline. This couldn’t help but make them think of the Elves’ temples and Draven Wimbledon’s mysterious departure.

The Church had invited the Gold-Eyed Earl to assassinate the Goblin Lord. They hadn’t even seen a shadow of the Goblin Lord yet, but what if Victor opened a temple of the Elves and followed in Draven’s footsteps?

Back then, when Draven Wimbledon left the human kingdoms to seek out his elven kin, the Iron Mountain royal family and the high echelons of the Church had been optimistic. They had hoped Draven would lead the Elves to ally with the humans once more against the beastmen invaders. But after waiting for several hundred years, nothing had happened.

Draven could not betray the Law of his Bloodline, and Victor probably couldn’t either.

Since a human Knight had given birth to a Sun Elf, that noble Sun Elf bloodline had to remain in the human kingdoms. This was Sylvia’s bottom line, and also the will of the entire knight class.

Clement nodded in agreement. “The Gold-Eyed Earl has a point. Let’s leave this place first and wait for Vice-Commander Strange Testier at the mountain pass below.”

With the Pope and the Gold-Eyed Earl in agreement, the Sacred Warriors of the Inquisition and Caligula quickly packed their things. The group rappelled down the cliff and made camp at a strategic pass.

By dusk, Strange, the third Stormwind Paladin from the Testier family, appeared in their line of sight, carrying a large lynx and dragging a rock goat.

Seeing Pope Clement, Tournans, Trigovar, Ron, and Victor had all come to support him, Strange was both surprised and delighted. He stepped forward to pay his respects to each of their Highnesses and exchanged greetings. Soon enough, he and Victor were addressing each other as cousins.

Howard informed his cousin of the strange events at the ancient ruins. Strange understood immediately and shifted the topic to his own experiences over the past few days.

With that, the matter of the Giantstone Mountains ruins was temporarily closed. Victor focused on listening to Strange’s intelligence report.

“The Two-Headed Goblin King’s sphere of influence may be even larger than the Sasan Empire. Even with my abilities, I was unable to survey the full extent of this beastman kingdom. Fortunately, we had a pair of eyes in the sky… The great owl raised by the Inquisition is incredibly intelligent. Following its guidance, we discovered over a hundred different beastmen tribes in this land. Although they are in constant conflict, attacking one another, they all submit to the Goblin Lord whose domain lies at the center.”

“After a brief period of reconnaissance, we found that this Goblin King spends nearly every day patrolling its territory. It leads a large retinue of Ogre bodyguards, Gnoll slaves, Lizard-beast cavalry, Goat-people infantry, that Manticore, and various other savage beasts, visiting goblin tribes large and small. It eats wherever it goes and forcibly conscripts the long-tailed Lizard-beasts and Hobgoblins raised by the tribes, incorporating them into its Lizard-beast cavalry,” Strange said slowly, sitting on a rock.

Clement nodded and smiled. “Hobgoblins are beastmen whose nature is both vile and cowardly. When their power grows to a certain point, they will often turn on their masters. This Goblin Lord understands the habits of its own kind very well. It knows to exploit the smaller tribes and eliminate potential rivals.”

“So, what is the extent of its forces?”

Strange replied, “From my observations, when it patrols its territory, it is accompanied by eighty-six iron-armored Ogre bodyguards, three of which are berserk Ogres. In addition, it has three hundred twenty-three Goat-people infantry, one hundred forty-five Gnoll hunters, and another one hundred eighty-six Bear-headed Goblins that never leave its side. The Lizard-beast cavalry, composed of Hobgoblin slaves, does not seem to have the Goblin King’s trust and always remains on the periphery of the formation, numbering just over three hundred. These Hobgoblins also control about eight hundred Bugbears and a varying number of savage beasts.”

He paused, then emphasized, “This is only the force it brings along while patrolling. Near its main camp, tens of thousands of beastmen are garrisoned, primarily Goat-Headed Monsters, Goblins, and Kobolds, as well as a significant number of Gnoll hunters.”

“I apologize. My rash actions have made a mess of things,” Strange Testier said shamefully.

Howard clapped his cousin on the shoulder reassuringly. “If it were me, I would have also seized the opportunity to ambush the Goblin King while it was on patrol.”

“Brother Strange, where is the Goblin King now?” Tournans interjected.

The Stormwind Paladin looked up and said grimly, “The first time I attacked, it was in the middle of a patrol. The Void Mithril arrow I shot was blocked by the Manticore’s body. I spent half a day luring the Manticore far away, then, guided by the great owl, I took a wide detour and once again caught up to the Two-Headed Goblin King as it was returning to its camp… Unfortunately, my second ambush also failed.”

“The Goblin King dodged my first Mithril arrow and hid amongst the Goat-Headed Monsters, Ogres, and Bugbears. I killed a few beastmen, but the Manticore caught up again, and I could only make a fruitless return.”

“The Manticore kept tracking me, but it wasn’t as fast as I am. I rendezvoused with my companions first, had a priest use divine arts to purge the toxins from my body, and then went back to lead the Manticore away, allowing Conlar to lead the scout squad to a new location.”

As he spoke, a look of regret crossed Strange’s handsome face. He continued, “I used my speed and the great owl’s superior vision to temporarily shake off the Manticore and launched a third assault… but the Goblin King had already fled back to its camp. My elemental perception told me it had hidden in an underground tunnel and never showed itself again. In the end, I failed to kill the Goblin King and exposed my link to the great owl. The Manticore killed the great owl with its gaze, and we lost our eyes in the sky.”

“Now, the Goblin King is hiding in a mine dug by Kobolds, and it has mobilized a large beastman army to guard the surrounding area. The Manticore is no longer tracking me and instead remains circling near the mine. Even when I continually pick off Goblins and Gnolls on the periphery, the Manticore remains unmoved.”

Clark, the Stormwind Paladin, asked in surprise, “The Two-Headed Goblin can evade your extraordinary archery?”

Strange shook his head with a bitter smile and explained, “That ‘Two-Headed Goblin’ is a Bugbear with a Hobgoblin’s head growing out of its shoulder.”

Although Bugbears were savage beastmen with sharp psychic intuition, their intelligence was lower than a dog’s. Their first instinct when faced with danger was to charge forward; only after witnessing the mass death of their companions would they be frightened into retreat. Hobgoblins, on the other hand, were extremely cunning, reputedly the most intelligent of beastmen.

A Bugbear with an extra Hobgoblin head might have a grotesque and bizarre appearance, but it would be an absolutely troublesome foe.

The Goblin King had been able to preemptively dodge Strange’s first direct shot, but it would have no chance of escaping death when faced with Victor’s Nemesis talent. The problem now was that the Goblin King was hiding in an underground tunnel, guarded by a large beastman army and a Manticore. If it refused to come out, Victor had no normal means of dealing with it.

Victor glanced at Trigovar, his meaning clear: If the Inquisition has any other extraordinary methods, now is the time to use them.

The Inquisitor-General, with his cold and stern disposition, revealed a helpless expression. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “I will try to find a way to dispatch more people here.”

“The key is time.”

Howard Testier, the Grand Commander, interjected, “On our side, the longer we delay, the greater the military pressure on the East Pioneer Fief war zone. If the pitched battle between Frederick, Kent, and the Centaurs begins ahead of schedule, while we have still not dealt with this threat to the rear of the Giantstone Fortress’s main reinforcements, the casualties for the East Pioneer Fief allied forces and the Temple Army will be heavy. We could even lose all our previous gains and allow the main Centaur force to escape back into the heart of the Westdon Khanate.”

“We cannot just sit and wait for reinforcements from the Inquisition; we must find a way to eliminate the Goblin Lord.” The Grand Commander looked around, his gaze burning as he said, “At the very least, we must strengthen our presence, attack the vassal tribes of this beastman kingdom, spread death and fear, and compel the different beastmen tribes to migrate towards the Goblin King’s core territory, putting pressure on that two-headed monstrosity.”

Ron stood up and said solemnly, “This must be the guidance of our Lord. I shall uphold the will of the Light and eliminate all darkness!”

Assassinating the Goblin Lord was now a nearly impossible task. Testier intended to exploit the racial conflicts between different beastmen to create internal chaos within the Goblin Kingdom, keeping the main legion of Giantstone Fortress from advancing into the Westdon Khanate and cutting off the Centaur army’s escape route.

It was indeed a good plan. When ogres met other ogres, they would hold a bloody battle for leadership, with the victor becoming king and the loser being eaten. If Ogres, Gnolls, and Goat-people—three different beastman races—were crammed together, one could only imagine the resulting scene.

Clement looked at the pensive Gold-Eyed Earl and asked, “Victor, what do you think?”

Victor nodded and said, “Cousin Howard’s proposal strikes at the weakness of the beastman kingdom, but… the Goblin Lord has the Manticore to back him up. While a flood of beastmen tribes into his core territory will certainly cause him trouble, I believe the beastmen are already accustomed to inter-species slaughter. The Goblin King will simply sit back and watch, and when the time is right, he will turn those vassal tribes into his slaves. In the future, the Sasan Empire and the Kingdom of Naville will likely find themselves neighbors with a veritable King of Beastmen.”

The group fell into silence. Testier’s method would solve a temporary problem, but in the long run, the consequences would be dire.

“Hmm.” Tournans broke the silence, saying calmly, “I see it the same way.”

Clement ignored the bald Sacred Warrior and asked Victor again, “Do you have any suggestions?”

Victor smiled and said, “If we can’t kill the Goblin Lord, killing the Manticore is just as good.”

Clark interjected, “But Strange has scared the Two-Headed Goblin witless. It obviously won’t let the Manticore leave its side again.”

Victor’s gaze turned to Strange. “Sylvia once told me that adult Manticores generally only defend their territory when they are in pairs. When she ventured into the Northern Wildlands alone, powerful monsters fled from her, but two Manticores dared to challenge her head-on.”

“Sylvia killed the stronger female Manticore and severely wounded the weaker male. However, she believed at the time that the male wouldn’t survive and couldn’t be bothered to find its corpse, so she returned to the York family with the female Manticore, whose pelt was still intact, and had its hide made into a noble lady’s couch.”

Strange clapped his hands in admiration. “The Goblin Lord’s partner must be the very Manticore that escaped from the Queen of Roses. Its hide has a massive circular scar, a mark left by the continuous corrosion of the void water element. Only a Spirit Knight could use the void water element to severely wound a Legendary creature as invulnerable as a Manticore.”

Tournans rubbed his forehead and said, “So the Manticore was on the verge of death and was saved by the Two-Headed Goblin. As a result, the Two-Headed Goblin got itself a Manticore bodyguard for free and became the Goblin King.”

“Clever,” Victor said with a thumbs-up and a grin.

Tournans’s face lit up with pleasure, but he quickly controlled his facial muscles, put on a nonchalant expression, and said seriously, “You used the wrong word. It is the guidance of our Lord, the wisdom of a shepherd.”

“Praise be to our Lord.” Ron the Sacred Warrior chanted in a low voice and nodded at Tournans in approval. “Well said. Everything is our Lord’s guidance and trial.”

Looking at the two nearly identical bald heads, Victor didn’t know what to say.

Howard said in a deep voice, “Twenty-seven years… The Queen of Roses killed the Manticore twenty-seven years ago. This Two-Headed Goblin has been the Goblin Lord for less than twenty-seven years. Its foundation is not stable! As long as we eliminate the Manticore it relies on, this Goblin Kingdom will soon be finished!”

Tournans emulated Clement’s calm and composed demeanor, muttering to himself, So that’s how it is.

He discreetly glanced around and saw that most of the people had looks of admiration. Only Caligula and Narsen were staring at each other blankly. He instantly felt pleased with himself, thinking with contempt, Sigh, how did I end up with these two idiots as my students?

He seemed to have forgotten that he had never actually taken Caligula on as a student, and Aka only saw him as a ferocious bald man.

Narsen suddenly spoke up, “My lord, how are we supposed to lure the Manticore out?”

Suddenly, Tournans’s mood soured again.

Victor, of course, had no idea what the incredibly shrewd Tournans was thinking. He stood up, unfastened his breastplate, and took out a snow-white, flawless Bone Bead from a small pocket in his inner armor.

“This was a gift from Sylvia.”

A trace of warmth appeared in Victor’s dark gold eyes. Cradling the Bone Bead, he said, “It was polished from the tail poison sac of the female Manticore. They say the Manticore’s stinger is incredibly potent, capable of paralyzing Dragons and white apes. Its poison sac can suppress extraordinary poisons of the Legendary level… If I hold this Bone Bead in my mouth, the Manticore’s venomous gaze will have no effect on me.”

“Right now, this Bone Bead’s greatest use is to enrage that male Manticore.”

Victor’s eyes became deep and icy as he said:

“When the Manticore sees the remains of its partner, I hope it will chase us without a second thought… We will reunite the souls of this Manticore pair in the Elemental Sea.”

“…Ending its soul’s deep suffering. This is the mercy of the Supreme Lord, and I shall carry out our Lord’s will,” Ron the Sacred Warrior added, his expression devout.

Thousands of miles away, on the front lines of the East Pioneer Fief, at the main Centaur camp.

A dozen Centaur Chiliarchs were engaged in a fierce dispute inside the central tent.

“Alita, the Earth Mother favors the mares. I acknowledge your beauty and your status as an Earth Mother shaman, but why are you stopping the Redmane tribe from leaving this damned place!”

The Khan of the Redmane tribe had a mane like fire and a temperament to match. His whinnying roar was like a blazing flame, threatening to burn down the entire tent.

Alita was the first to feel the Redmane Khan’s wrath.

“We either leave together, or we all stay. This is the revelation the Earth Mother gave me,” the beautiful Alita said faintly.

“The weak humans dare not block the iron hooves of the Centaurs. They deliberately left a path for us to leave, but that path back to our homeland is too narrow. Only two thousand swift Centaurs can pass through it smoothly each day.”

A Chiliarch from the Blue-eye tribe sized up the mare Alita’s body with a provocative gaze, but his words were full of doubt. “With over one hundred thousand Centaurs stampeding at once, we will surely run into the humans’ forest of blades and spears, and many Centaurs will be buried in the Earth Mother’s embrace… If all the Centaurs stay, what will we eat? Soil? Soil is for burials, and no amount of it can fill a Centaur’s stomach. A hungry Centaur cannot run far.”

Alita snorted in displeasure. “A short-sighted Centaur cannot run far either… Six tribes. Who goes first, who goes last? You tell me! Humans are smarter than Goblins, more cunning than Gnolls, braver than Ogres, and better fighters than Centaurs. They’ve set a trap, making us waste time and fall into internal strife over who should go first.”

“If any tribe dares to say they will go first, our Whitetail and Blackhoof tribes will attack them first!” the mare whinnied, then barked:

“Speak! Who goes first, and who goes last?”

Alita was majestic and awe-inspiring, and the Centaur Chiliarchs actually dared not look her in the eye. However, the opinions of female Centaurs had never been given much weight by the males. Even though Alita was an Earth Mother shaman and a rare female Chiliarch, she was, in the end, a pregnant mare.

The eldest, the Blackhorn Chieftain, asked in a deep voice, “Alita Kweglo, the steed carried by the earth serves as the vanguard for the herd and the rearguard. Is the Whitetail tribe prepared to be the vanguard, or the rearguard?”

Alita blinked her beautiful eyes, bent a foreleg, and said to the old Centaur Khan, “Khan Akta, your wisdom spreads throughout the herd. It was you who led the three northern tribes to the Southern Camp. Can you not see the humans’ trap? We can only escape the fate of annihilation if we act together…”

Khan Akta cut Alita off, pressing, “The human lines of blades are sharp, and the passage they’ve left us is narrow. If the Centaurs all move together, is the Whitetail tribe willing to charge the human lines?”

The mare stomped her hind hooves in anger. The Chiliarchs all knew they could not stay, but none were willing to charge the human lines or serve as the rearguard. The trap laid by the humans was nearly inescapable, and it made Alita feel a wave of powerlessness.

Polta, who had been lying on the ground, stood up. He stroked his partner’s back, then paced forward. A colossal presence filled the entire tent. He said nonchalantly, “You all need to learn to submit… Blue-eye, do you wish to challenge me?”

The Blue-eye tribe’s Centaur Chiliarch had been taunting Alita just moments ago, and Polta had long since grown impatient.

Scorned, the Blue-eye snorted two plumes of white air from his nostrils, his muscles bulging. Before he could even accept the challenge, he saw Polta’s entire body turn orange-yellow, his powerful form looking as if it were carved from glazed rock. Taking a step forward that seemed to carry the weight of the entire earth, he threw a punch at the Blue-eye Chiliarch’s chest.

The Blue-eye was horrified. He raised his thick forelimbs, which had turned a yellowish-brown, to block Polta’s fist.

BOOM!

The huge, sturdy Centaur Chiliarch flew out of the central tent like a stone projectile fired from a Ballista, crashing through a row of tents.

The Centaur warriors outside saw the magnificently divine Polta standing proudly, while the Centaur Chiliarchs wore expressions of terror and awe. They stood stunned for a moment, until Alita whinnied at the top of her lungs, “Polta Kweglo is the Great Khan of the Centaurs!”

“Polta… Kweglo… Great Khan?!”

“Polta, Great Khan?”

“Great Khan, Polta!”

“Great Khan, Polta!”

The cries of the Centaur warriors spread throughout the entire camp, growing from a small sound to a loud one, from weak to strong, from few to many, until at last it was like a deafening roar.

The Centaur Chiliarchs looked at each other, and finally, under the lead of the Blackhorn Khan, they knelt on their forelegs, submitting to Polta.

A smile formed on Polta’s thick lips. He whinnied loudly, “The Centaurs will eat their fill today! Tomorrow at noon, follow my charge, and we will gallop all the way back home!”

He looked at the dishevelled Blue-eye Chiliarch climbing out of the pile of tents and added, “The Blue-eye tribe will be the rearguard.”

Finally, they could eat their fill… The Centaur warriors cheered loudly, and their strange laughter carried all the way to the ears of the humans.

At the human allied forces’ position, Frederick held the hilt of his sword, gazing at the Centaur camp for a moment before turning halfway to face the hastily approaching Priest Kent.

“Your Majesty, it’s about to begin.” Kent laughed heartily. “Praise be to our Lord. It’s a rare opportunity to be able to deal with so many Centaurs at once.”

Frederick smiled faintly. “We have waited for this day for so long, we were nearly out of patience.”

Kent nodded. “The closer we are to victory, the more careful we must be.” He turned towards the Centaur camp, his eyes tinged platinum-gold with holy power as he peered into the distance. He then continued, “One hundred thirty thousand Centaurs are a tough nut to crack. The one hundred twenty thousand warriors responsible for intercepting them will face the most pressure. My opinion is to inform Duke Baselius that when the battle starts, we should also open the gap in the northeast corner, letting the Centaur army break out from both the northeast and southeast. The Radiant Knights, the Temple Army, and the Blood Wolf Knights will crush the rearguard Centaur tribe, driving them to trample their own companions in front of them. The main Imperial Legion will then strike from the flanks, striving to annihilate seventy thousand Centaurs in one fell swoop!”

The Sasan Emperor’s brilliant gaze swept back and forth across the Centaur camp. He nodded. “We’ll do it that way!”

Chapter 657: The Heroic Battle (Part 1)

The next morning, at the tail end of the Season of Wind, weak sunlight sprinkled through thin clouds, just enough to dry the dew on the ground. The Centaur camp was a hive of activity. Countless Centaur warriors, braving the howling northeast wind, dismantled their beast-hide tents. They helped one another bundle the hides carefully, tying them securely to their backs with animal sinews and hemp ropes.

In two months, the annual rainy and snowy season would arrive. Adult centaurs, with their robust physiques, had no fear of the wind and snow, but the foals and pregnant mares needed the warmth of the tents to survive the harsh winter. Moreover, tents held a symbolic significance for the centaurs.

The contents of a tent were the private property of a Centaur warrior, and the land and Goblins within two javelin-throws of the tent belonged to its owner. The number of tents a warrior possessed was a measure of his wealth, strength, and status. The more tents he had, the more spouses he could take. A young, beautiful mare would never let a male centaur without a tent mount her.

When a centaur came of age, its parents would prepare a tent for it. This was why Centaur warriors always felt they never had enough tents.

This time, the Sidon Centaurs had poured out of their lands for a long-range raid, so they hadn’t brought any tents with them. The ones they had now were all war trophies taken from the human kingdoms. The pregnant females had already evacuated the front line, taking the Goblin slaves and a large number of tents with them. Now, as the Centaur warriors prepared to break out and return home, they were willing to abandon everything else, but the beast-hide tents had to be taken.

As the centaurs packed their tents, the human army reacted immediately. Bugle calls of varying lengths, signifying different military orders, rose and fell across the human camp. Squads of warriors clad in chainmail, holding turtle shell shields and long-handled scimitars, followed their captains to their respective positions. Ballistae were pushed forward by their crews, their gleaming crossbow bolts aimed directly at the Centaur camp. Bare-chested, brawny soldiers strained to winch the arms of catapults, placing cow dung projectiles soaked in fire oil into the slings, ready at a moment’s notice to launch incendiary bombs at the charging Centaur horde.

“Don’t panic! On my command, form the Turtle Shell Formation. Support your comrades from behind, and hold your shields and long-handled scimitars steady.”

“If the centaurs dare to get close, our blades will slice open their bellies! Once a few of their bodies fall on our formation, they’ll have even more trouble with us!”

“Centaurs are not good at close combat. When the time comes, we’ll push aside the horse corpses and charge out to cut them down!”

“Before leaving the Turtle Shell Formation, remember to drink your Bloodboil Potion… We added raw sugar, so it tastes great. Guaranteed to give you a kick!”

“If you feel yourself floating up to the heavens, don’t be afraid… haha, congratulations, you’ve made it to the Supreme Lord’s divine kingdom.”

“The Supreme Lord protects us! In the Emperor’s name, we fight for our families!”

“For our fallen kin, for our sacrificed comrades, for the honor of a warrior… today, we will make those four-legged monsters pay in blood!”

Veterans loudly bolstered their comrades’ fighting spirit. The still-youthful faces of the new recruits hardened with resolve and ferocity. A fearsome, grim aura filled the entire battle line.

Since the Centaur invasion, the Sasan Empire, and indeed all the human kingdoms, had suffered a catastrophe. The East Pioneer Fief was nearly lost, property damage was incalculable, and the production of over a hundred families had ground to a halt. Human casualties numbered in the hundreds of thousands. Although the vast majority of the casualties were tenant households, those tenants were bound to their lords, who in turn relied on their family vassals to manage them. These vassals were among the first to fall in battle, and their fathers, brothers, and sons in the army were all seething with grief and indignation.

To date, the human allied forces had cleared out the beastmen entrenched in the East Pioneer Fief, but hundreds of thousands of beastmen slaves had dispersed, taking advantage of the chaos to infiltrate the Sasan Empire’s eastern defensive line and rampage through the imperial heartland. The lords of the Sasan Empire chose not to recall their elite family forces to hunt down scattered Goblin and Gnoll bandits. Instead, they focused all their efforts on cooperating with the Radiant Knights to deal with the main Centaur army first.

The centaurs were the main culprits behind this disaster, and they had not yet paid the price in blood!

“Blood for blood!”

The soldiers stood ready, bristling with killing intent.

The new Centaur Great Khan, Polta, and his spouse, the Earth Mother shaman Alita, stood flank to flank, their horns touching, their tails affectionately intertwined. They appeared placid as they strolled among a group of massive Dire Centaurs, showing none of the tension expected before a great battle.

“My cherished steed, Great Khan of the centaurs, please be wary of the powerhouses among the humans. I can feel their boiling yet icy desire to kill,” Alita murmured in a low whinny beside her spouse’s horn.

“Rest assured, my beloved Alita. I am the steed carried by the earth. I will not follow in Orogar’s hoofprints. My hooves and my iron rods will shatter all obstacles and lead the centaurs to gallop freely across the land,” Polta replied, his voice ringing with power, dispelling his spouse’s worries. He then added softly, “Protect our foal.”

“I will, Great Khan.”

The mare touched horns with Polta one last time before trotting away. She glanced back at the Centaur warriors burdened with their beast-hide tents and said in a low, worried tone, “They should have left the tents behind, as we did.”

Polta whinnied with laughter. “How could the Great Khan ask the centaurs to abandon their precious tents? Besides, these hides will protect them from sharp arrows. They can even shoot those arrows back at the two-legged humans and give them a taste of the centaurs’ skill with the bow.”

Alita considered this and decided Polta had a point. She did not press the issue. Instead, she turned and shouted to the other Centaur Khans, “Break through the human encirclement! Follow the Great Khan’s hoofprints with your tribes! Do not split up! Do not leave the main group, or the humans will hunt you down and kill you one by one. We only have to run for five straight days to find plenty of food. Then, we will hunt down those human cavalry in the open fields and bring their corpses and horses back to our tribes for the winter. This is a revelation from the Earth Mother! It cannot be forgotten, cannot be refused! Any centaur who defies this revelation will be buried in the earth, and his spouse and foal will enter another centaur’s tent!”

Black Horn Khan stepped out from the group and said in a deep voice, “Alita Kweglo, the centaurs will obey the Earth Mother’s revelation and follow the Great Khan’s hoofprints.”

The Centaur Chiliarchs all raised a left foreleg in a gesture of submission.

Full of vigor, Polta grabbed two heavy iron rods from his back. With a long neigh, he cried, “Move out! Follow me! First, we will trample the ridiculous traps and obstacles laid by the humans!”

Several thousand Dire Centaur warriors followed the Great Khan, charging out of the camp with eerie laughter. Dust billowed and hooves thundered, merging into a torrent that surged like a giant python toward the southeast corner of the human line.

The eastern line of the human allied forces was seven kilometers away from the Centaur camp. For a vanguard composed entirely of Dire Centaurs at a full sprint, the distance was negligible. They were as large as heavy draft horses, and the momentum of their charge was suffocating.

The southeast corner of the line had been intentionally left as a diversionary channel for the centaurs, and its defenses were the weakest. The soldiers stationed there gritted their teeth, leaped into pre-dug pits, and formed the Turtle Shell Blade Formation. They braced their long-handled scimitars, preparing to withstand the powerful impact of the Centaur vanguard.

However, the centaurs did not charge the soldiers’ Turtle Shell Blade Formation. They galloped back and forth over the trap zone. Pit traps were trampled flat; sharp caltrops were stomped into the ground; rammed earth walls were smashed down, the packed dirt filling the ditches behind them; chevaux de frise were shattered, sending splinters flying everywhere; the sharpened wooden spears planted in the ground snapped and broke without fail. The traps that were supposed to halt a mass charge could not even slow the Dire Centaurs’ advance.

Duke Baselius stood on high ground, his face a mask of grim stillness as he watched the centaurs rampage through the trap-filled area. The Gold Knight at his side, Marquess Monstock, spoke up.

“Her Majesty, this will not do. These Dire Centaurs are trying to widen the escape route in the southeast corner so that the rest of the Centaur horde can pass through. We must act now, or they could circle around behind our line and counter-encircle us.”

To cripple the centaurs’ fighting force, the commanders of the human allied forces had made extensive preparations. They had mobilized vast amounts of manpower and resources, advancing cautiously and setting up layers of traps, to finally encircle the main force of the Sidon Centaurs.

But no matter how the Gold Knights and high-ranking clergy racked their brains, a bloody, head-on battle was inevitable. The centaurs’ prowess in field battles was second to none, but what they truly excelled at was mobile warfare. Thus, the human allied forces chose to fight a grueling positional battle, which was far better than fighting a mobile war they had no chance of winning.

Even so, none of the current high-ranking clergy or Gold Knights had any real combat experience in large-scale positional warfare against centaurs. Fortunately, human historical records were long and unbroken. Their scholars knew the centaurs’ habits like the back of their hands. Coupled with the war sand table created by His Highness Randall, Priest Kent and Emperor Friedrich had gathered the most experienced knights and monsterology scholars. After repeated deductions, they had formulated a set of tactics.

Duke Baselius would lead 120 thousand elite soldiers to hold the eastern position and act as bait. Emperor Friedrich and Priest Kent would lead the main legion in a primary assault from the centaurs’ western flank. The moment the Centaur army crashed into Baselius’s Turtle Shell Blade Formation would be the signal for the Radiant Knights and the Temple Army to launch an all-out attack.

The highnesses of the human kingdoms were well-aware that even with 400 thousand troops surrounding 150 thousand Centaur warriors, a victory would be a pyrrhic one. These elite warriors were the bedrock of each lord’s power. If more than half were lost, the Sasan Empire and the Dodor Kingdom would be severely weakened. Such a victory would be the same as a defeat.

To minimize casualties, Priest Kent had intentionally left an escape channel for the centaurs, aiming to annihilate sixty thousand of them with his 400 thousand-strong army. The centaurs who managed to break out were not a major concern. Once they returned to their tribal lairs, the elite cavalry from the East Pioneer Fief and Giantstone Fortress war zones could pick them off one by one.

This strategy took advantage of the centaurs’ lack of food, their heavy losses of male combatants and equipment, and their greatly reduced fighting strength due to the pregnant mares. Most importantly, the centaurs lacked a Great Khan, which meant they had little cohesion or organization. Once they returned to the heartland of the Westdon Khanate, they would become a disorderly mob.

Duke Baselius had personally taken part in these strategic discussions and had given his approval.

However, no one had anticipated that the centaurs would concentrate their tribes’ dire powerhouses in an attempt to widen the channel at the southeast corner of the line.

Duke Baselius pressed his lips together, his expression grave. After a moment, he said calmly, “Lord Monstock, you want to open the northeast escape channel now to split the Centaur horde? Not so fast. I want to gauge the strength of this group first…”

“Sharpshooters, fire arrows! Ignite the chevaux de frise! Southeast corner, ten ballistae, fire at will on the Centaur vanguard!”

The orders reached the front line. A row of greatbowmen stepped forward, lit the oilcloth on their arrowheads from a brazier, and aimed at the intact chevaux de frise hundreds of meters away. Fire arrows flew.

The chevaux de frise, wrapped in dry grass and soaked in fire oil, instantly burst into roaring flames. Orange tongues of fire leaped several meters high, and a wave of heat and thick smoke temporarily obscured the view.

The ballista crews seized the opportunity to advance. Firing through the thick smoke, they unleashed refined iron crossbow bolts as thick as a man’s thumb. With thousands of Dire Centaurs charging back and forth, they were bound to hit a few even if they fired blind.

As expected, the agonized neighs of several centaurs came from behind the smoke. But before the ballista crews could reload, a stunningly powerful and beautiful Centaur warrior smashed through the burning chevaux de frise. In his hand, he wielded a flaming timber, looking like a demonic god treading on fire. With a blur of motion, he swung his arm, and two flaming sections of the barrier smashed into two ballistae. The powerful impact caused heavy casualties among the nearby crews. Immediately after, more than thirty other centaurs broke through the wall of fire, using pieces of timber to destroy the remaining ballistae from hundreds of meters away.

Duke Baselius’s gaze met that of the centaur whose horns were the color of yellow-glazed rock. He watched as it retreated to continue destroying the fortifications.

“That must be the centaurs’ God-favored one… even if not Legendary, he can’t be far from it,” Duke Baselius murmured, his brow furrowed.

Yesterday, Baselius had sensed a powerful wave of the earth element from the Centaur camp. It had been brief, but it had reached a Legendary level. This had left him worried and perplexed. The terrifying thing about a Legendary centaur was not just its individual might, but its ability to rally its people. The Centaur army was trapped and in a desperate situation. If a Legendary centaur were to emerge now, one capable of silencing all dissent, the human allied forces would face a unified Centaur legion. The strategy of picking them off one by one would become nearly impossible to achieve.

Still, Baselius was skeptical that a second great centaur could have appeared so quickly. The God-favored one before him showed none of the distinct signs of the Armor of the Earth, which brought him a secret sense of relief.

In reality, Polta and Alita were terrified of the human powerhouses who had killed Orogar and were deliberately hiding their Legendary talents, which had led to the Gold Knight’s misjudgment.

The crucial problem was that the Radiant Knights’ Gold Paladins and two Legendary Priests were concentrated on the western front. Here on the eastern front, the Centaur Chiliarchs were leading thousands of Dire Centaurs. Baselius wanted to slay the Centaur God-favored one, but he lacked the strength. Attempting it could even result in the annihilation of a Gold Knight on the spot.

“It’s all the fault of the Great Divination…”

Duke Baselius shook his head. As the heir to the Iron Mountain Empire, he was aware of some of the art’s drawbacks. But the arrow was already nocked and had to be loosed; it was too late to change their tactical objectives. In any case, killing as many ordinary Centaur warriors as possible was certainly the right course of action.

“The centaurs’ powerhouses are concentrated in the southeast corner, trying to widen their escape route. This means their western flank is vulnerable,” Baselius said to the Gold Knights around him, pointing at the Centaur vanguard. “Friedrich and Priest Kent will not miss this opportunity. When their entire army presses forward and attacks the rear of the Centaur army, we will immediately open the northeast channel. We’ll use the catapults to launch incendiary bombs to narrow the southeast channel, forcing the centaurs to split off in two different directions.”

“Once the centaurs start to run, they’ll be swept along by their main force. Even a Legendary centaur will have to follow. Let these dire fools escape first. The centaur army lagging behind will be ours for the slaughter.”

As he spoke, a dazzling pillar of platinum-gold light erupted on the west side of the Centaur camp. It was magnificent and brilliant, sacred and solemn, shooting a hundred meters into the sky before descending as a platinum-gold canopy that covered several hundred square meters.

“The Canopy of Valor!”

The Gold Knights under the Gryphon Flag exchanged smiles. They knew Patriarch Flidis himself had taken action.

Valor was the prelude to the battle.

Chapter 658: The Heroic Battle (Part 2)

On the western front, four kilometers from the main Centaur camp, over a hundred preaching priests were spread out within a circular area of 800 square meters. Gripping holy power crystals, they chanted prayers, channeling holy power, invisible to the naked eye, through the Pool of Holy Power in the unseen world toward Cardinal Archbishop Flidis, who stood at the center of the formation.

At this moment, the old Patriarch was enveloped in holy light. A pillar of platinum-gold light rose from his body, with sacred runes spiraling around it. It shot up to the heavens before descending again, turning the entire circular area into an ocean of Holy Light.

As the Sacred Warriors passed through the divine curtain, they felt as if they were wrapped in warm water. A formless yet tangible holy power seeped into their bodies, washing away fear, hesitation, and all other distracting thoughts. Courage and focus grew and strengthened until they sublimated into a pure conviction for battle.

“When all is dark, only Radiance endures!”

Holding sharp scimitars, they chanted a hymn of sacrifice and followed behind the high-ranked Knights, launching a charge on foot toward the Centaur camp. The hide armor of the Sacred Warriors gleamed with a faint platinum-gold luster, like countless fireflies merging into a vast, brilliant torrent of light, surging forward to strike the monstrous army ahead.

The Heroism Art was a basic divine art. It slightly increased the recipient’s strength and agility, but significantly enhanced their courage and focus, thereby improving their Spirit and Perception attributes. Though its effects seemed moderate, it helped the recipient command their spirit, coordinate their mind and body, and manage the burden of their augmented strength and agility.

Simply put, the Heroism Art refined the pure emotion of bravery to simulate a state of pseudo-fire of the mind. It was an extraordinary divine art that could turn a novice into an expert.

Sacred Warriors and priests from level one to seven all mastered the Heroism Art, but the effects of the same divine art cast by low-ranking and high-ranking clergy were starkly different, mainly in terms of intensity and duration. However, the Canopy of Valor guided by the Patriarch was exceptionally powerful and possessed a rapid blood-clotting property. By passing through Flidis’s Canopy of Valor, a Sacred Warrior not only saved themselves from casting their own Heroism Art, thus conserving holy power, but also gained a level six Heroism Art that lasted for over thirty minutes. Moreover, even if their aorta was pierced by a sharp blade, the bleeding would stop in a short time.

Most importantly, the Canopy of Valor was a miracle!

Legendary Battle Priest Kent felt, for the first time, such a tremendous power of faith gathered from the hundreds of thousands in the human allied forces. It pushed the Canopy of Valor to an unimaginable height. The platinum-gold pillar of Holy Light was more dazzling than the sun; he couldn’t even see Patriarch Flidis at the center of the formation with his naked eye.

The Canopy of Valor was a divine art exclusive to the Patriarch. In theory, there was no upper limit to the number of people it could bless, but the corrosion of the soul by the holy power placed a massive burden on the caster, which manifested as a shortened lifespan.

Kent usually held a high opinion of himself. As a Legendary-rank battle priest, he could cast a Mass Heroism Art to bless 86 Sacred Warriors or 44 ordinary soldiers at once, a cut above the three Patriarchs. But now, witnessing the miracle brought forth by Patriarch Flidis, he had to admit that if he were in Flidis’s place, he could maintain the Canopy of Valor for twenty minutes at most before having to dispel it, lest he be assimilated by the Holy Light. Nor could he have possibly pushed the Canopy of Valor to the peak of a level six divine art.

The preaching priests did not participate in combat, but today’s miracle was proof enough of their decisive role in war. Even if the Canopy of Valor couldn’t bless every soldier, the morale of those who witnessed the miracle soared. Their hearts filled with resolute fighting will, and their minds became focused and sharp, almost as if they had been cast with a weakened Heroism Art.

In contrast, the Centaurs’ morale plummeted. They were terrified and uneasy. Some Centaur warriors couldn’t help but retreat, causing a commotion even in their defensive formation.

Priest Kent finally felt at ease.

This battle had gathered most of the elites of the human kingdoms. It had to be a decisive victory, not a pyrrhic one. The Sidon Centaurs were just one opponent humanity needed to defeat; east of the Westdon Khanate lay an even more powerful enemy.

Training a Sacred Warrior or an Elite Soldier was no easy task, whether for the Church or the lords of the various kingdoms. If the human army lost more than forty percent of its warriors in this battle, no one could accept such an outcome.

It was the first time in Kent’s life that he had commanded a battle on the scale of several hundred thousand soldiers, and he was under immense, indescribable pressure. To ensure victory while minimizing casualties, Kent was even willing to open a channel and let tens of thousands of Centaur warriors escape first. He had considered every detail, including the direction of the wind.

On the eastern front, the human army was defending, with the wind at their backs; the Centaurs were attacking, against the wind. The situation on the western front was the exact opposite.

One should never underestimate the wind factor. With the wind in their favor, the effective range of the Centaurs’ heavy bows would increase by at least seventeen percent, meaning the human army would have to endure three more volleys of swift arrows before they could engage in close combat.

According to the initial plan, the Centaurs were supposed to attack the eastern front with all their might. Once the Centaur army charged into the defensive line deployed by Duke Baselius and was engaged by the Turtle Shell Blade Formation, the legions on the western front would attack the Centaurs’ rear. This would minimize casualties and was in line with Kent’s tactical vision.

However, the Centaurs had gathered the Dire Centaur commanders from various tribes to strike the southeast corner of the eastern front in an attempt to widen their escape route. This abnormal move was a surprise to everyone.

In a matter of life and death, who had the authority to command Dire Centaurs from different tribes?

This was not a good sign!

Kent had no time to ponder. He trusted that the elemental perception of over a dozen Gold Knights couldn’t all be wrong. Since the powerful warriors among the Centaurs had taken the initiative to clear a path for their kin, the human allied forces’ battle plan had to be adjusted accordingly.

After a brief exchange with Emperor Sasan, he made a swift decision. Seizing the opportunity while the Centaur rear was lacking powerful warriors, they would concentrate all the Paladins, Gold Knights, Silver Knights, and regular Knights from the eastern front to charge the rear of the Centaur camp. Fifty thousand soldiers from the Temple Army and over three thousand Horned Wolves would launch the second wave of attack. One hundred and thirty thousand elite soldiers would approach the northern and southern flanks of the Centaur rear, using bows and crossbows to cover the Sasan Knights, the Radiant Knights, and the Temple Army. Once the Centaurs began to flee from the northeast and southeast corners of the western front, they would launch an all-out assault to encircle and annihilate the remaining Centaurs.

Everyone was fighting on foot because the warhorses had to be preserved for pursuing the fleeing Centaurs.

Without the cover of warhorses, the charging soldiers could only use their bodies to endure the chaotic storm of arrows and javelins launched by the Centaurs.

The preaching priests did everything in their power to extend the duration of the Canopy of Valor so that more Sacred Warriors could be blessed by the Heroism Art. Only then could they conserve their own holy power to maintain their Sacred Armor Art.

At the edge of the formation, a gray-haired, gaunt preaching priest swayed precariously. A Sacred Warrior immediately stepped forward to support him, but he continued to chant loudly, struggling to remain. The Sacred Warrior pressed a spot on the preaching priest’s neck, causing him to faint and go limp, and forcibly carried him away. Another preaching priest holding a holy power crystal immediately took his place.

Kent’s mouth twitched. He said to the twin Adjudicators beside him, “It’s about time… Go tell the Lord Patriarch that the Canopy of Valor can be stopped.”

“Lord Flidis instructed us beforehand…”

“…that Lord Kent need not worry about the Canopy of Valor.”

“His Lordship also instructed…”

“…that we are to protect Lord Kent at all times.”

The twin brothers spoke one after another, rejecting Kent’s command.

The Legendary Battle Priest glared at them, then turned to Deputy Commander Wallace and said, “Hey, my friend, it’s our turn.”

Wallace, clad in armor, nodded. He raised his two Adamantine beheading swords, striking them together to create sparks, and proclaimed loudly, “When all is dark, only Radiance endures!”

“When all is dark, only Radiance endures!”

Several thousand mid-rank Sacred Warriors and battle priests chanted in unison. Riding howling Horned Wolf war beasts, they passed through the brilliant and holy Canopy of Valor and charged toward the Centaur camp.

The Centaur Khan of the Blue-eye tribe watched the tide of human warriors surge toward them, his muscles tensing. Let alone the ordinary tribesmen, even he himself was witnessing the humans’ Canopy of Valor for the first time. Although he couldn’t be sure of its function, it looked formidable.

The tribe’s Warriors were filled with panic, their legs looking weak, which made the Blue-eye Khan secretly anxious. He glanced at a nearby Chiliarch who was gritting his teeth, and couldn’t help but feel a surge of anger.

That ambitious Centaur Chiliarch was the son who pleased the Blue-eye Khan the most. But it was precisely because of his arrogance and youthful vigor that he had actually tried to tame a shaman of Mother Earth, a favored spouse of the Great Khan Polta. As a result, he had angered that party, causing the Blue-eye tribe to be the first to face the brunt of the human army’s assault.

Now was not the time to discipline his son. The Blue-eye Khan roared, “Warriors of the Blue-eye tribe, get moving!”

“There is no such thing as a stationary Centaur.” This saying meant that Centaurs only fought while running.

Firstly, Centaurs were enormous. Only by moving could they warm up their bodies, increase their blood flow, and coordinate their upper and lower bodies to reach their optimal combat state. Secondly, Centaurs were used to living in herds. When they ran in a group, they could not only trample their enemies but also provide cover for each other. The crisscrossing movements of their horse bodies would dazzle the enemy, making it difficult to lock onto a target.

Of course, some Centaurs would surely be killed by the enemy, but it might not be them.

That was enough to reawaken the Centaurs’ courage.

The Centaur warriors began to run. They needed no commands, no orders; following their tribal leader into a running battle was a skill learned since birth. A few hundred, then a thousand, then several thousand, and finally tens of thousands of Blue-eye Centaurs were all running. They moved in a circular mass at the rear of the camp. The thunder of hooves shook the earth. Power, confidence, courage, and wildness churned and brewed in their hearts as they ran, like a spark thrown into a haystack, quickly igniting and spreading into a roaring fire that burned away all fear and hesitation, leaving only a yearning for the freedom of the run and a desire to trample a powerful foe.

A strange, mocking sound echoed on the wind above the Centaur camp.

The human army was less than five kilometers from the Centaur camp. From the moment the preaching priests displayed their miracle and the heavily armored Knights and Sacred Warriors launched their charge, to the point where the Centaurs regained their fighting spirit and reformed their ranks, a mere ten minutes had passed.

These were the offspring of Mother Earth, the Centaurs who were unmatched in field battles.

The mass charge and the circular firing formation were the two trump cards that allowed the Centaurs to defeat their enemies.

During a mass charge, the Centaurs would first throw javelins to inflict heavy casualties, then trample their foes, conveniently picking up javelins from enemy corpses or the ground, before turning around at a distance to launch a second charge. After a few rounds, the enemy would be shattered and routed. This tactic was tried and true for the Centaurs.

If the mass charge was for offense, then the circular firing formation was the Centaurs’ defensive measure against a surprise attack from a strong enemy. They would move laterally in front of the enemy, firing their heavy bows at the target in turns. If the enemy charged into the circular firing formation, they would first have to endure being trampled by countless Centaurs, or be surrounded in the center of the formation and subjected to continuous, inescapable volleys of fire.

Centaurs were naturally agile and nimble. There was no clear boundary between their two battle tactics; the mass charge and the circular firing formation could be seamlessly interchanged according to the situation.

The Blue-eye Centaurs adopted the circular firing formation to deal with the human legions’ assault. In doing so, they missed their only chance to turn defeat into victory.

The 280,000-strong human army on the western front had all left their defensive fortifications, spread out their formation, and moved into attack positions. The Radiant Knights, the Blood Wolf Knights, and the Temple Army had already begun their charge on foot. If, at that moment, the 140,000 Centaurs had launched a mass counter-charge against the human lines, it was truly possible they could have swept away the human legions on the western front in one fell swoop.

But the Centaurs already had their tents packed on their backs. The other tribes were preparing to break out from the southeast corner. On what grounds could the Blue-eye tribe, tasked with covering the rear, make them turn back to fight?

When the Blue-eye Centaurs began their circular maneuver, the commanders in the human army knew that the danger had passed.

Patriarch Flidis was finally exhausted, and the Canopy of Valor slowly dissipated, but the defeat of the Centaur bandits was now a certainty!

The wind was in the Centaurs’ favor, and the heavy arrows they fired could cover a distance of over 260 meters. But bows had an upper limit to their power. No matter how strong a Dire Centaur was, the most they could do was snap the bowstring; they couldn’t increase the arrow’s power by a single bit.

Javelins were a different matter. An ordinary Centaur, using the momentum of a charge, could throw a javelin that could pierce the armor of an Elite Soldier. But with the firing angle required for a circular movement, how could they possibly throw javelins?

The Blue-eye Centaurs chose the circular firing formation with the aim of weakening the ordinary soldiers, slowing their charge, and trapping the vanguard of human Knights within the center of their formation. They planned to separate the Knights from the main human army, then have the Dire Centaur commanders focus their fire to kill them.

The Blue-eye Khan’s plan was sound, but the strength of a single tribe’s Dire Centaurs was too thin compared to the Radiant Knights and the Blood Wolf Knights. Moreover, they were not the Blackhoof tribe; they had not experienced the might of the Sacred Warriors.

The shower of heavy arrows from the Centaurs was like a swarm of locusts blotting out the sky, but it had little effect on the Knights clad in heavy Adamantine armor. A dozen or so Highnesses led the Silver Knights, deploying their earth domains. Hazy yellow clouds of energy merged into one, shielding the ordinary Knights behind them. The swift-feathered arrows flew into the void earth element force field as if into mud, falling powerlessly to the ground, unable to harm the Knights in the slightest.

In reality, the Blue-eye tribe’s arrows were primarily aimed at the Sacred Warriors following closely behind the Knights; the human vanguard was merely caught in the crossfire.

The Temple Army was so numerous that the Centaurs could hardly miss even if they shot with their eyes closed. Yet the reality came as a great shock to them.

The Sacred Warriors were equipped with full-body hide armor, refined iron scimitars, and arm-mounted round shields. They cast the Sacred Armor Art, and their well-made hide armor glowed with a platinum-gold light, becoming extremely tough. Its defensive power was comparable to plate armor, and it was even superior in other aspects. The Centaurs’ heavy arrows bounced right off the Sacred Armor.

The Sacred Armor Art continuously consumed a Sacred Warrior’s holy power. The second-rank Sacred Warriors of the Temple Army could only maintain their Sacred Armor for about twenty minutes, but that was more than enough time for them to charge up to the Centaurs and engage in close-quarters combat.

Seeing their arrows were ineffective, a few Dire Centaur commanders couldn’t resist throwing their javelins. Their strength was immense, and the power of their javelins was no less than that of a human ballista. They pierced through several Sacred Warriors at once, and some men were torn apart by the sheer force embedded in the javelins.

Before the Centaur commanders could let out a triumphant, grotesque laugh, the Stormwind Paladins hidden among the Sacred Warriors immediately retaliated. Several Mithril arrows wreathed in indigo light struck the exposed Dire Centaur from different angles. Its body was sliced into neat chunks by the void wind element, which then flew upwards and outwards in a turbulent burst of air, resembling a blooming flower of blood from a distance.

The gruesome death of this Centaur terrified the other Dire Centaurs. They no longer dared to be conspicuous, instead hiding within the ranks, using their comrades’ bodies as cover to take sneaky, precise shots at the Sacred Warriors.

The Paladins of House Testier were notoriously fearsome. Over hundreds of years, countless dire monsters had died by their bows. Even the Chiliarchs of the tribes had grown up listening to stories of Centaur heroes arduously defeating human archers.

The deadly exchange between the Centaur commanders and the Stormwind Paladins was just a small episode in the battle. The earth Knights were the pillars of the battlefield.

Over a dozen Gold Knights were the first to charge into the Centaur formation. They were unmovable mountains, indestructible fortresses. Wielding Mithril beheading swords, they brutally severed the torrent of iron hooves. The Great Knights of the Silver rank were at their sides, acting as castles and barracks. The ordinary Paladins and Bronze Knights, under the protection of the high-ranked Knights, formed outposts. The initial-rank Sacred Warriors, apprentice knights, and Mystic Warriors filled in the gaps, and a defensive fortification belonging to the human legions appeared on the battlefield.

The Centaurs that crashed into this wall of Knights were torn to pieces; none were spared.

However, the Centaurs’ circular arrow formation was specifically designed to counter a defensively strong enemy. Following their leader’s hoofprints, they quietly changed their angle of movement. The entire formation pulled outwards, crashing into the side of the Temple Army that was coming up from behind. The Centaurs not only wanted to surround the human Knights, but also to cut the human army in half.

For the Knights, it was a circular firing formation. For the Temple Army charging from the rear, they were facing a Centaur mass charge!

The Centaurs pushed their natural agility and flexibility to the limit. Unmatched in field battles, their reputation was well-deserved.

A rain of javelins fell. The Centaur mass charge was unstoppable. The Temple Army’s formation was actually pierced halfway through!

In an instant, the situation for the Temple Army took a drastic turn for the worse, and the battle became perilous.

Chapter 659: The Heroic Battle (Part 2)

A Centaur warrior weighed over five hundred kilograms on average. Although their upper bodies were weaker, their overall strength was by no means inferior to that of an initial-rank Bronze Knight, and might even be superior. When they performed a mass charge, they needed no special techniques; simple javelins, collisions, and trampling were enough to crush smaller opponents.

The over twenty thousand Centaur warriors of the Blue-eye tribe formed a long dragon, rampaging through the army of Sacred Warriors. The Centaurs at the vanguard threw javelins, while the flanks of their formation fired heavy arrows. Wherever they passed, Sacred Warriors were cut down like wheat, then trampled by countless hooves. Even with the protection of the Sacred Armor Art, they could not last long before being crushed into a pulp.

Some Sacred Warriors closed in on the flanks of the charging Centaur formation and unleashed the Sacred Sword Art. Their hooked scythe-scimitars, forged from refined iron, glowed with a platinum-gold light. A slight, rapid vibration made the blades invincible, allowing them to slice through the Centaurs’ thick hides effortlessly. As the blades cut across the Centaurs’ flanks, they left deep gashes. The creatures would run a few more steps before their entrails and organs, mixed with blood, gushed from their wounds. Their four hooves would buckle, sending them tumbling to the ground to be trampled by the Centaurs coming up from behind.

In a single pass, a Sacred Warrior used the Centaurs’ own momentum to easily kill five of them. But in the next moment, a dense volley of javelins and fletched arrows rained down on him.

This Sacred Warrior was agile, his martial skills exquisite. Twisting and turning, parrying and blocking, he used every trick up his sleeve to weave his way from the Centaurs’ side to seventy meters away. Yet, he was still pierced through the abdomen by a javelin. Thankfully, other Sacred Warriors risked their lives to rescue him, managing to drag him beyond the range of the Centaurs’ bows and spears. But for this, they paid a heavy price: three dead, two seriously injured, and eleven with minor wounds.

Due to the disparity in size and strength, the Sacred Warriors’ skills, practiced to perfection, seemed pale and useless before the Centaur mass.

The low and mid-rank Sacred Warriors could not hold their ground, nor could the initial-rank Knights.

The Ogre Brute Legion was one force capable of routing a charging Centaur formation head-on. High-ranked human Knights could do it too, and they were even faster than the Ogres. But the long line of Centaurs was like an ancient giant serpent, evading the clusters of human Knights and roaming the battlefield to slaughter, specifically picking on the soft persimmons.

If the charging Centaur cluster were truly a giant serpent, it would have been perfect. A thousand Knights and high-ranking Sacred Warriors could have cut it in half, and it wouldn’t have been able to struggle for long. The reality was, the Centaur line was composed of individuals. Even if the Knights adopted tactics to sever its body or head, they would at most kill a hundred or so Centaurs. The others would simply avoid the main assault, scatter, and then rejoin the main body from different directions.

The Knight clusters rushed about, rescuing where they could, but it was as futile as cutting water with a sword. If the High-ranked Knights were to split up and fight individually, the casualties among the ordinary Knights and Adjudicators would be far too great.

Had all six Centaur tribes attacked, the human army would have had no choice but to hole up and defend. Fortunately, only the Blue-eye tribe was engaging the human army. Their Dire Centaur Commanders were limited in number, and under threat from the Stormwind Paladins, they hid within their ranks, not daring to expose themselves.

Without the precise kill-shots from the Dire Centaurs, this battle was much easier.

Since the initial-rank Sacred Warriors and common soldiers couldn’t keep up with the Knights’ mobility anyway, the Knight clusters on the western front didn’t have to worry about the rearguard. They focused on their own objective: to kill as many Centaur warriors as possible.

The dozen or so Highnesses led the Knight clusters to charge back and forth through the Blue-eye tribe’s ranks twice before breaking past them completely, pushing deep into the Centaur camp.

In any case, the strongest Centaurs were concentrated in the southeastern corner, so for now, no one in the entire Centaur camp could stop the human Knights. As for the Blue-eye tribe’s Centaurs, they could be left for the forces behind to handle. As long as the Knight clusters were not annihilated, the other Centaur tribes could not assist the Blue-eye tribe in crushing the human army.

Tying down the entire Centaur camp was the greatest support the Knights could offer the main legion.

The top combatants of the humans’ western front roamed freely through the Centaur camp, utterly invincible. Commander Priest Kent had to defeat the obstructing Blue-eye tribe as quickly as possible.

Kent had spent the better part of his life fighting beastmen. He was familiar with Centaurs, and he understood the strengths of the human army even better.

He unleashed the Horned Wolves raised by the Church and the Sasan Empire, numbering over four thousand five hundred in total.

Horned Wolves are the most stable aberrant war beasts in the human kingdoms; in a sense, they could be called a mature species. This was reflected in their training methods and reproductive capabilities. Common aberrant war beasts, like the Eagle-headed Lions of House Baselius, had females that gave birth to one cub every two years. The young would then need five years of growth to possess even minimal combat strength. Horned Wolves, however, bore a litter once a year, with at least two pups per litter, and they could fight alongside their masters at the age of three. Compared to the Eagle-headed Lions, they might not be as strong, but the cost of raising one Eagle-headed Lion could support two Horned Wolves. For this reason, the scale of Horned Wolf war beasts was larger than all other aberrant war beasts combined, and even if they suffered losses, their numbers could be quickly replenished.

Secondly, Horned Wolves were extremely intelligent, with the intellect of a six-year-old child. They possessed the best obedience and were particularly adept at coordinated combat, whether it was with human warriors or amongst their own kind.

Wolves seemed to have a natural inclination for hunting four-legged creatures. The wild red bulls of the Warton Great Plains could form herds numbering over a hundred thousand. The power of their charge was far greater than that of the Centaurs, yet the wolf packs on the plains treated the wild red bulls as their primary prey.

The Horned Wolves shared this lupine trait. When they saw the four-legged Centaurs, it was as if they were looking at a herd of prey; they instinctively knew how to deal with a Centaur mass.

Amidst howls of varying rhythm, the thousands of Horned Wolves automatically split into over a hundred smaller packs. Driven by their alpha wolves, they pounced on the Centaur lines.

Seeing the pack of giant wolves bearing down on them, even the Centaurs’ strange, provocative laughter lessened. They turned their bows and arrows, firing desperately at the rapidly approaching Horned Wolves.

That the Horned Wolves’ Physique was not strong enough was only in comparison to other aberrant war beasts. In fact, they weighed over four hundred fifty kilograms on average, each one a behemoth. Each Horned Wolf was fitted with custom-made thick cow-leather armor, which served the dual purpose of protecting the wolf and providing a mount for soldiers. Combined with the Horned Wolves’ incredible speed and the cover provided by the Sacred Warrior army, most of them successfully broke through the rain of arrows and closed in on the Centaur mass.

Centaurs were tall and sturdy. Faced with their mass charge, low and mid-rank Sacred Warriors couldn’t hold their ground, and Horned Wolves were equally unable to confront the Centaur mass head-on. However, the Horned Wolves could match the Centaurs’ charging speed. They didn’t need to fight against the current like the Sacred Warriors; they simply ran alongside the Centaurs. If the Centaurs at the rear tried to shoot the Horned Wolves with arrows and javelins, they were highly likely to hit their own kind first. Only when a Horned Wolf bit into a comrade’s limbs and dragged the unlucky Centaur out of the formation would the other Centaurs unleash their full firepower, concentrating their shots to kill the halted wolf—and the injured Centaur along with it.

Wolf packs have a habit of eating their prey alive. Since the Centaur had been dragged from the formation, it was better to give it a quick death and take the opportunity to kill a few vicious wolves in the process.

Had it been any other aberrant war beast, they probably would not have been able to resist the temptation of blood food. But the Horned Wolves were different. They were cruel and cunning, had undergone rigorous training, and regarded human warriors as their own kind. When they bit into a Centaur’s forelegs, they never stopped to enjoy their prey. Instead, they would leave the injured Centaur for the Sacred Warriors to deal with and immediately pounce on the next target. On the rare occasion a Horned Wolf stopped to tear at a fallen, injured Centaur, it would quickly be shot full of arrows by the Centaur warriors, becoming a pincushion. Witnessing the gruesome deaths of their comrades, the remaining Horned Wolves became even more disciplined, and their attack efficiency increased accordingly.

With the Horned Wolf packs providing cover, the pressure on the Temple Army immediately lessened, and the Sacred Warriors were finally able to engage in close combat. They activated their Sacred Sword Art, and their hooked scythe-scimitars, shimmering with platinum-gold light, swept lightly along the angle of the Centaurs’ charge, instantly creating a horrifying gash on the beastmen’s flanks.

From above, the long line of Blue-eye Centaurs looked like a great serpent besieged by countless ants, its body being torn and gnawed at, gradually becoming covered in wounds.

The scales of victory began to tip in the human army’s favor. And the final straw that would break the Blue-eye tribe was the Knights.

Seeing that his tribe’s warriors had suffered more than a twenty-percent loss, the Blue-eye Khan could finally hold back no longer. He let out a loud whinny, “Scatter to the east! Form five circular arrow formations! Fight while retreating! Fall back all the way to the west side of the camp and find a chance to break out!”

The human army was swarming them like ants, and the flanks of the Blue-eye Centaurs’ long snake formation lacked cover, resulting in heavy casualties. The chieftain had long noticed that the human Knight clusters had already broken into the Centaur camp, creating a large open area to their east—enough space for the Blue-eye Centaurs to regroup. The Blue-eye tribe had five Gold-rank Chiliarchs. They could lead their respective subordinates to form five smaller circular arrow formations, provide mutual support, and fight as they retreated.

The Blue-eye Khan had a good plan, but he had overlooked the high-ranking female Paladins on the battlefield.

The Centaurs’ long snake formation scattered in an instant, breaking through the Sacred Warriors on the left flank and making for the east. The Dire Centaur Commanders who had been hiding within the dense formation were all exposed.

The fourteen Silver Paladins of House Testier and the Dire Centaurs were wary of each other, both sides hiding and waiting for an opportunity to strike. Now, the Centaurs had their backs to the Silver Paladins. The Testiers seized the tactical opportunity, loosing a volley of extraordinary mithril arrows.

The Blue-eye Centaurs were a large tribe, with over twenty thousand warriors and several hundred Dire Centaurs. The ordinary Centaur Commanders were manageable; a few Stormwind Paladins could destroy one with a single volley of concentrated fire. However, the Dire Centaurs of Silver rank and above were as if they had eyes in the back of their heads. The moment the Stormwind Paladins’ arrows left their bows, the creatures were already dodging.

The key was the five Gold-rank Centaur Chiliarchs. They were the soul of the Centaur force; if the Chiliarchs were killed, the Blue-eye tribe would no longer be able to stop the human army.

Priest Kent cast eleven healing spells in a row. Seizing the gap created as the Centaurs scattered, he shouted, “Charlottia!”

A dozen or so high-ranking female knights in Dragon-Lizard hide armor quickly killed the Centaurs nearest to them, then closed ranks around a Raging Wave Paladiness wielding two mithril short spears. Under her lead, the female Paladins flickered into motion, chasing after a burly Centaur Chiliarch.

She was Tournans’s wife, a Silver-rank Raging Wave Paladin, Charlottia Benedict.

Ever since the Gold Paladin Benedict perished at the hands of the Great Centaur Orogar, Charlottia, the eldest daughter of the Benedict family, had inherited her father’s position as vice-commander of the Radiant Knights. Her mission today was to lead the Silver-rank female Paladins to intercept and kill the Centaur Chiliarchs on the battlefield.

An Earth Knight could deploy their domain, using its force field properties to charge even faster than a Gold-rank Centaur. However, this area-of-effect ability was not well-suited for blocking the refined iron javelins thrown by Gold Centaurs. Thus, Earth Knights usually chose Semi-elementalization to deal with Gold-rank beastmen, but their charging speed slowed considerably after doing so, making it impossible to catch a Centaur Chiliarch. The Raging Wave Knightesses possessed both speed and power, excelling in both ranged and close-quarters combat. In a one-on-one frontal assault, both Gale Knights and Earth Knights would have to bow their heads in submission to them.

Otherwise, how could high-ranking female knights be so forceful in their married lives?

At the same rank, a Great Knight was simply no match for his wife.

A Silver-rank Raging Wave Knight would still find it difficult to catch a Centaur Chiliarch. However, the Centaur Chiliarchs of the Blue-eye tribe could not abandon their subordinates.

This severely slowed them down.

Charlottia easily caught up to a Gold-rank Centaur. Her two mithril short spears, wreathed in green light, stabbed out in a rapid flurry. Thud! Thud! Thud! All the strikes landed on the target’s side, but it was like hitting tough old leather. The creature seemed completely unharmed and swung its spiked club in a backhanded sweep, the air whistling and groaning.

It was a fierce and violent blow, one that would have severely injured even an Ogre Warlord. Charlottia’s delicate, exquisite war boots tapped lightly on the ground. In a graceful and fluid motion, she dodged the Centaur’s powerful sweep, and her mithril short spears struck her opponent again.

The Centaur Chiliarch’s four hooves and the spots she had struck had turned a yellowish-brown. Its body was unharmed, not even its thick hide was broken. Beneath its feet, a layer of white frost was condensing on the ground, spreading outwards at a visible rate.

This was the Bloodline talent of a Gold-rank Centaur: Endure.

A Centaur in a Deeply Savaged State could temporarily transform parts of its body to take on the characteristics of the earth element, transferring most of the damage it received through its limbs into the earth. It could also draw elemental power from the ground to continuously recover from its injuries and restore its stamina. A Legendary-rank Centaur could transform its entire body into that same yellowish-brown, characteristic of the earth element, allowing it to transfer over eighty percent of all damage.

With their feet on the earth, they were nigh invincible.

This Centaur was still far from the legendary realm, and its Elemental Resistance was inferior to that of a Silver-rank berserk Ogre. The void water element possessed the properties of freezing, penetration, corrosion, and force field all at once, making it the most difficult elemental damage to resist. A Raging Wave Knightess could often fell an opponent with a single blow.

Charlottia wielded her twin mithril spears, stabbing continuously without a single miss. Although the Centaur Chiliarch was not seriously wounded, it felt a bone-chilling cold, and its speed inevitably slowed.

In that brief moment, the other female Paladins had killed all of the Chiliarch’s guards and swarmed in. Charlottia retracted her spears, kicked one of the Centaur’s forelegs to make it stumble, and shouted in a sharp voice, “Kill it.”

The Silver Paladins surged forward. Green light flashed repeatedly, and they killed the poor Centaur Chiliarch on the spot.

A Gold-rank Centaur shouldn’t have been so weak. Unfortunately, its unique body structure left it vulnerable in close combat with High-ranked Knights, and even igniting its fire of the mind was of no use. Most critically, the Stormwind Paladins of House Testier had it locked down from a distance. Its danger sense screamed constant warnings, placing an immense burden on its Spirit and leaving it powerless against the joint attack of a dozen female Paladins.

Charlottia nodded in acknowledgment to the three Stormwind Paladins behind her, then led her group of beautiful yet ferocious female knights toward another target.

Where there was a first, there was a second. The Silver Paladins worked together and successfully slew the second Centaur Chiliarch of the Blue-eye tribe.

Suddenly, the situation changed!

Just as a female Paladin plunged her mithril longsword into a Centaur’s chest, a refined iron javelin tore through the air from a distance, surrounded by a ripple-like distortion, shooting straight for her head.

The Blue-eye Khan’s timing was impeccable. Charlottia had no time to intervene, and it seemed the Silver female Paladin was about to perish under the terrifying javelin. But then, a small shield forged from adamantine and mithril, wrapped in green light, flew over. It knocked the powerful javelin aside, then spun back and was caught by a female knight in dark gold armor.

Charlottia’s pupils contracted, and her gaze shifted. She sensed a fine yet resilient thread of void water element connecting the shield to the high-ranking female knight, spanning a distance of over a hundred meters. This meant the high-ranking female knight’s range and control over the void water element far exceeded her imagination.

“Your Highness Auroxia?”

The high-ranking female knight flew over, pushed up her exquisitely carved mithril mask to reveal a face of incomparable, almost cute, beauty, and said in a voice as gentle as water, “It is I… This monster won’t be easy to deal with. How about we join forces?”

You’re nearly Legendary yourself, what Qualification do we have to join forces with you… It must have been My lord Flidis who asked you to look out for us… Charlottia glanced at the mithril longspear in Auroxia’s hand, her gaze flickering as she asked in surprise, “Your Highness, why didn’t you bring ‘Water Sprite’s Sigh’?”

“I gave it away.” Auroxia smiled faintly. Her blue eyes, veiled by a moist, green shimmer, turned toward the charging Centaur Khan. Her posture was elegant, but she was secretly on guard.

Half of the Blue-eye Khan’s body was yellowish-brown. He didn’t dodge or evade, allowing the sharp mithril arrows to rain down upon him. He would occasionally twist his head to avoid the indigo streams of light aimed at his skull. His four hooves flew, and the ground he crossed split open with fissures as if cut by a sharp blade, while gales howled and erupted from the cracks. The Centaur’s speed did not diminish in the slightest. His toned body, wreathed in hurricane-force winds and dust, charged straight at the female Paladins with a heart-stopping, demonic god-like aura.

When the Centaur Khan charged within six hundred meters, Auroxia’s expression turned cautious. Before she could act, the competitive Charlottia threw a mithril short spear.

The short spear, wreathed in green light, had already turned platinum-gold. In a flash, it reached the Centaur Khan’s chest.

A level four Paladin could draw upon the power of the Elemental Sea. Charlottia deployed her Sacred Domain, and her void water element instantly reached the level of a Gold Knight’s. The thrown spear was also imbued with the Sacred Sword Art; even a Gold-rank Earth Knight would not dare to take this throw head-on.

The Blue-eye Khan raised a hand to block his chest. The mithril javelin, shimmering with both platinum-gold and an eerie green, pierced through his yellowish palm but could go no further. A large patch of frost instantly appeared on the ground the Centaur had just crossed. A savage grin appeared on his flat, ugly face, and then it froze.

Auroxia let out a soft “Hm?” and turned her head to search through the crowd, not sparing the Centaur Khan another glance.

The mighty Centaur fell to its four knees, sliding forward with its momentum. Frost-congealed blood trickled from its mouth, nose, and ears, and its eyes had turned a frozen, pale white.

It died, silently.

The silver female knights of the Radiant Knights broke into soft cheers, but Charlottia was both shocked and suspicious. She was not so arrogant as to think she had been the one to kill the Centaur Khan.

Who could silently slay a Gold-rank Centaur?

Charlottia’s first thought was Sylvia, but she quickly dismissed the idea. If Sylvia were on the battlefield in person, the Radiant Knights should have been following her, first to annihilate that group of Dire Centaurs.

Following Auroxia’s gaze, Charlottia spotted a high-ranking female knight furtively hiding within the Sacred Warrior army.

Perhaps realizing she had been discovered, she walked over. Her delicate war boots skimmed across the ground with a graceful, natural rhythm. She soon reached the Centaur Khan’s corpse, removed her faceplate to reveal a stunningly radiant face, and planted a foot on the dead Khan’s back, saying with a grin, “This war trophy is mine, you know.”

“My dear little sister Roland, your Transcendent sword skill leaves me in awe.” Auroxia’s eyes were deep as she praised her.

The instant Charlottia’s short spear hit the Centaur Khan, Auroxia had sensed an extremely subtle yet exceptionally sharp fluctuation of water element erupt from within the Khan’s body. It was as if an invisible, ice-coated blade had sliced through its internal organs and frozen its soul, killing it instantly.

Roland’s killing blow was silent and unstoppable because she had simply manipulated the water element within the Centaur’s own body, killing her foe from over three hundred meters away, through the air. Moreover, she had chosen to strike at the precise moment the Centaur Khan used his palm to block Charlottia’s javelin, creating a momentary gap in its power as it channeled the void water element into the ground.

Such an opportunity was fleeting. Otherwise, with the amount of elemental power Roland could muster, the most she could have done was inflict minor damage on the Blue-eye chieftain—enough to make him shiver, perhaps.

Roland’s Insight, and her exquisite control over the void water element, had already reached a divine level. It was simply terrifying.

Auroxia sighed inwardly once more and asked softly, “My dear, why aren’t you wearing the armor I gave you?”

Charlottia noticed that Princess Roland Auguste had Auroxia’s renowned weapon—Water Sprite’s Sigh—strapped to her hip, yet she herself was wearing an ordinary set of female mithril armor, one that didn’t even look like it was custom-made.

Roland said nonchalantly, “I snuck out and grabbed Margaret Wellington’s armor on my way. Otherwise, how could I have blended in and slain the Centaur Khan?”

Roland chatted amicably with Auroxia while standing on the Centaur Khan’s corpse, treating the surrounding Centaurs as if they were nothing.

Charlottia watched this, growing annoyed.

Female knights bore the responsibility of procreation for the knight’s bloodline and raising the next generation of Knights. They generally did not go to battle, and the female knights of the Paladin families were no exception. However, Paladins needed to slay monsters to obtain Divine Favor. Accumulating merits to be promoted to a level four Paladin would allow them to master the Sacred Domain, which was of immense help in their attempt to reach the Elemental Sea.

Very few female Paladins reached level four. In this battle, Charlottia’s goal was to lead her female comrades to obtain the Divine Favor needed for promotion. The Stormwind Paladins of House Testier had been holding back, specifically to assist Charlottia and her group in slaying the Dire Centaurs.

Roland had silently stolen the greatest share of the merits, so naturally, the female Paladins did not look at her kindly.

You’re a princess of a kingdom, of noble status and overflowing with talent. You’re also the youngest Gold Knight. What use is stealing our Divine Favor to you?

Even high-ranking female knights felt jealousy, and Roland was the object of their envy.

Charlottia had always had a cold and proud temperament. As the vice-commander of the Radiant Knights and the wife of the First Sacred Warrior, she had the right to be arrogant.

She ignored Roland and Auroxia, pulled her mithril short spear from the Centaur Khan’s palm, and platinum-gold runes appeared around her body. She turned and raised her hand, about to throw it at another Centaur Chiliarch.

“It’s best to let it go,” Roland said suddenly.

Charlottia dispersed her void water element and holy power, turned to look at Roland, and raised an eyebrow. “On what grounds?”

Roland lifted her delicate little face and said righteously, “On my intuition!”

Auroxia glanced at the young Centaur Chiliarch. She saw its face was filled with grief, indignation, and resentment as it charged back and forth within the human army’s encirclement, still desperately trying to rally the chaotic Centaur warriors. She said thoughtfully, “The King just died, and the new king is succeeding him on the battlefield. There’s bound to be trouble… Hmm, we really should let it go. And let it carry the seeds of division and resistance with it.”

As soon as she finished speaking, balls of orange-red fire, trailing thick black smoke, streaked across the sky and smashed into the southeastern corner of the Centaur camp. The Centaurs retreating in that direction were instantly plunged into a sea of fire. The tents on their backs caught flame, causing a severe stampede and chaos.

At the same time, the Cheval de frise in the northeastern corner of the Centaur camp was dragged away by the humans with ropes, opening a new escape route. The Centaurs naturally began to flood toward the northeast.

The Blue-eye Chiliarch suppressed the grief in its heart and, filled with hatred for the Great Khan Polta, led the remaining members of its tribe toward the southeastern exit of the camp.

The Centaur army fled in two different directions, and the rearguarding Blue-eye tribe also retreated in a panic. The human legion on the western front mobilized fully, charging toward the Centaur army that was focused only on escape.

At this point, the victory of the Heroic Battle, initiated by the allied forces of the East Pioneer Fief, was secured!

Chapter 660: Finding Answers

A flock of sheep relies on the lead ram for guidance. If the lead ram missteps and falls off a cliff, the entire flock will follow it down. This is, in fact, the powerful herd mentality at work. The consciousness of the group easily dominates individual will, even making members of the group forget their instinctual fear of death. Even if certain individuals sense the danger, they have no room to struggle and can only be pushed by the group into the abyss.

All social creatures are influenced by herd mentality, and highly socialized humans are no exception.

During a cruel war on Earth, sixty thousand soldiers fell to machine gun fire in a single day. Behind these tragic casualties was a cognitive error made by the army’s commander, an error that was infinitely magnified by herd mentality.

If this was true for the most intelligent of beings, humans, then it went without saying for the centaurs.

Aside from the Blue-eye tribe, the newly appointed Great Khan Polta had summoned the Dire commanders of Silver rank and above from the other tribes to help expand the escape route at the southeastern corner. He did this for two reasons. One was to allow the centaur army to break out from the southeast as quickly as possible, avoiding trampling and chaos. The other was that he had not yet secured his position as Great Khan; by keeping the khans, chiliarchs, and Silver-rank Dire commanders of the various tribes by his side, he was essentially holding them hostage.

Even if the centaur army successfully broke out, neither Polta nor Alita wanted the allied tribal forces to disperse just like that; otherwise, Polta would be Great Khan for only a day. By coercing the khans and chiliarchs of the tribes, prolonging the end of the war, and leading the Sidon Centaurs to fight a few more battles against the humans, their positions as Great Khan Polta and Shaman Alita would become well-deserved, provided they made no serious mistakes.

Only by holding the lead horses of each tribe captive would the more than one hundred thousand Sidon Centaur warriors follow the Great Khan’s charge.

This was what Polta and Alita had thought, and this was what they had done. But they had overlooked the chiliarch of the Blue-eye tribe, who was also a lead horse.

Wave after wave of cow dung incendiary bombs rained down from the sky, trailing thick smoke and slamming into the southeastern corner of the Centaur camp. Though their power was minimal, they ignited the hide tents on the centaurs’ backs, filling the air with a choking, foul stench. The burning centaurs bucked and thrashed wildly, spreading panic and throwing the once-orderly evacuation into disarray.

This was of little concern. The catapults on the humans’ eastern front had a range of over seven hundred meters; it wouldn’t take Polta and the chiliarchs long to destroy them. As long as they destroyed half the catapults, the evacuation through the southeast passage could be restored to order.

The human knight clusters broke through the Blue-eye centaurs’ blockade and charged the Centaur camp. This, too, was not a major problem. Although the centaur commanders of Silver rank and above were all concentrated near the southeast passage and couldn’t rush back for the time being to counter the humans’ Extraordinary powerhouses, the ordinary Dire commanders of the various tribes had already led the common centaur warriors into a circular defensive maneuver. The knight cluster, composed of Extraordinary Knights, Knights, mid-to-high-rank Sacred Warriors, and battle priests, numbered only a little over three thousand. In a battle of this scale, such a number of human experts could only be considered a single entity. If the common centaurs couldn’t defeat this band of human powerhouses, couldn’t they just run circles around them?

Duke Baselius opened a passage at the northeastern corner of the defensive line. Under pressure from the human knights, a portion of the centaur warriors fled through this gap. Great Khan Polta was actually quite pleased to see this. The lead horses of all the tribes were by his side; if the centaur warriors escaped from another direction first, they would eventually circle around, evade the pursuing human army, and voluntarily seek out their respective tribal leaders.

But when the Blue-eye Chiliarch led the remaining members of his tribe to withdraw from the battlefield from the northeastern corner, everything changed.

With over twenty thousand Blue-eye centaurs galloping across the battlefield, the one hundred and sixty thousand elite soldiers on the western front truly did not dare to act rashly. In battle, superior numbers did not guarantee victory; the key to success lay in the effective use of space. Every person occupied a certain amount of space. If the entire army of one hundred and sixty thousand entered the fray, more than half of them would be unable to even touch a centaur and would instead obstruct the Temple Army’s movements, effectively acting as shields for the centaurs.

After all, who could blame two legs for not being able to outrun four?

Once the centaur rearguard was gone, the army of one hundred and sixty thousand launched an all-out assault, attacking the left and right flanks of the Centaur camp. Because the battle line was stretched, almost every soldier could bring their fighting strength to bear. Relying on their excellent armor, they braved the centaurs’ arrow storms, charged forward, threw two rounds of javelins, and then plunged in for close-quarters combat.

Compared to the medium-sized humans, centaurs required more space for combat. They had originally been able to keep the knight clusters pestering them, but as the one hundred and sixty thousand elite infantry and sixty thousand Temple Army soldiers compressed their fighting space, the knights’ kill efficiency doubled, and the centaurs completely panicked. Some Dire Centaurs led their circular arrow formations to switch to a mass charge, launching a few small counter-attacks. But they were unable to form a mass charge of tens of thousands; centaur groups of only two or three thousand were quickly extinguished by the human army. Coupled with the Blue-eye tribe following their lead horse out of the encirclement, many centaurs almost instinctively followed the Blue-eye tribe and fled.

The human army was like a clenched fist squeezing a sponge, and the centaurs were like the water, flowing out from between the fingers.

Polta, the khans of the various tribes, and the chiliarchs were also swept along by the centaur tide. In this situation, they were helpless and could only lead the centaur warriors in their flight.

When generals cannot control their army and are instead carried along by it, it is called a rout.

As more and more centaurs fled, the pressure on the human army lessened. The soldiers on the northern and southern flanks once again sealed the escape routes, and the remaining centaurs were trapped like turtles in a jar. The catapults and ballistae on the eastern front opened fire with everything they had. Round after round of incendiary bombs rained down, turning countless centaurs into flaming horses, but the panic and chaos were more lethal than the flames. The Chaos spells and Fear spells cast by the battle priests on the centaurs at this moment were astonishingly effective; a single spell could cause a small group of centaurs to slaughter friend and foe alike in a mad frenzy.

Fear and despair spread through the army like a plague, forcing soldiers to hack and slash blindly. This was a camp-wide insurrection.

A rout followed by a camp insurrection; the centaurs were beyond saving. A few clear-headed centaurs threw their lives away charging the Turtle Shell Blade Formation on the western front in what was, without a doubt, a suicide mission.

The common soldiers and Sacred Warriors couldn’t see the overall battlefield and simply focused on the slaughter before them. The high-ranking knights and high-ranking clergy, witnessing a camp insurrection on the battlefield for the first time, were astonished but did not forget to protect the army’s flanks.

The Radiant Knights and Blood Wolf Knights broke away from the battlefield and joined with Duke Baselius’s Griffin Knights and Moon Bear Knights, as well as Dodor’s Iron Wall Knights and Gambis’s Swift Dragon Knights. They hovered on the left wing of the battlefield, guarding against the possibility of those Dire Centaurs leading their subordinates to attack the human army’s rear flank.

In truth, Polta and the centaur khans had no mind to counter-attack the human army at this moment. The Blue-eye tribe had vanished into the distance, taking with them tens of thousands of centaur warriors from various tribes. It seemed they had no intention of rejoining Great Khan Polta. The centaur khans of the various tribes cursed the Blue-eye Chiliarch as a traitor on one hand, while on the other, they urged Great Khan Polta to go and punish the Blue-eye traitors.

For them, the most pressing matter was to gather the centaurs who had been led away by the Blue-eye tribe, not to fight to the bitter end with the human knights.

The Blue-eye Chiliarch knew Polta would not let him go. He led the great centaur host on a flight straight north, not stopping for a moment. Polta led the centaur khans in a wide circle, but in the end, they surprisingly did not pursue the Blue-eye tribe, choosing instead to move east.

In any case, both groups of centaurs vanished without a trace. The human army, its rear secure, focused all its efforts on annihilating the trapped centaurs.

At dusk, the last centaur fell into a pool of blood, and the soldiers erupted in victorious cheers.

In this battle, the allied forces suffered over seven thousand deaths and over three thousand seriously wounded and disabled, for a total loss of more than eleven thousand troops. However, the human allied forces had completely annihilated over forty-eight thousand centaurs. Compared to past battle records, this could be called the greatest victory humans had ever achieved against beastmen in a thousand years.

Of course, the war was not yet over, but this victory meant that the Sasan Empire had shifted from strategic defense to strategic offense. The human allied forces had seized the initiative in the war.

The soldiers who had participated in the battle returned to their barracks to rest and recuperate, preparing to pursue the escaped centaurs the next day. The garrison troops from the castles, barracks, and outposts came out to clean the battlefield. The various knight orders were responsible for standing watch over the battlefield to prevent any unforeseen incidents.

The leaders of the allied forces gathered around a bonfire to discuss the gains and losses of this battle and the future developments of the war.

Priest Kent’s face was flushed red by the firelight. His eyes were bright with excitement, and his voice boomed, “Praise our Lord! A battle on the scale of hundreds of thousands of people… I had previously only read about such things in historical war documents in the archives of the Ivory Sanctum. In a thousand years, we are the only commanders to have directed a large-scale pitched battle and won. To be honest, myself and all Your Highnesses present lack experience in grand battles. It was the supreme Lord of Radiance who guided us to victory!”

Patriarch Flidis said with admiration, “Brother Kent is right. In the past, when human soldiers clashed with centaurs, we were always at a disadvantage. Without the support of high-ranking knights and high-ranking clergy, if a thousand cavalry faced a thousand centaurs, our soldiers would almost certainly lose. If eight thousand cavalry faced eighty thousand centaurs, our soldiers would definitely lose. We always thought centaurs were naturally stronger than humans, that one centaur was worth two soldiers, and that defeating them required deploying an even larger army. But in this battle, the long-range fireballs and the mental-type punitive divine arts played a crucial role. Thousands upon thousands of centaurs died from the attacks and trampling of their own kind.”

“This is the Lord punishing the beastmen through our hands, and it is also a precious revelation He has granted us.”

The Patriarch paused, then asked with a smile, “Brother Kent, how did you think of using catapults to launch a concentrated barrage of cow dung incendiary bombs at the centaur army?”

Kent habitually stroked his neat, short-trimmed beard and chuckled. “I lived in Raven Town for a long time and have a good relationship with His Highness Randell. The Ant-man plague is the greatest worry of the Centaur Hills, and His Highness Randell and I often discussed tactics for dealing with the Ant-man tide. Because the Ant-men fear fire, the defensive works in the Centaur Hills focus heavily on fire attacks. These cow dung incendiary bombs are standard military supplies for the three anti-ant defensive walls. They’re light, easy to transport, have a much longer range than stone projectiles, and are very effective against the Ant-man tide. As for using them against centaurs… getting hit in the head would at most knock one out from the stench of cow dung, but who knew the centaurs had a fondness for carrying their tents on their backs?”

Emperor Friedrich, the two Duke Baselius’s, and the highnesses of the Radiant Knights all watched Kent quietly, their patient, waiting eyes clearly expressing their intent.

The killing effects of throwing rocks versus incendiary bombs against centaurs should have been roughly similar. On the battlefield, the number of centaurs who actually burned to death was limited. If the incendiary bombs were replaced with stone projectiles, the catapults would likely have killed more centaurs directly. However, the negative impact of the incendiary bombs was far more terrifying than their killing power. The infighting among the centaurs began with their comrades who had caught fire, and it eventually spread to all the centaurs in the rear. Initially, the centaurs tried their best to extinguish the flames on their comrades’ backs, tolerating a kick or two in the process. But when the front of the camp came under pressure from the human battle line and space became tight, the terrified centaurs, fearing the flames would spread to them, turned viciously on their comrades. Whether they were on fire or not, they began to slaughter any centaur near them in a frenzy, leading to the final camp-wide insurrection.

Priest Kent’s idea of using cow dung incendiary bombs was indeed brilliant. However, what the highnesses valued was not a single clever idea, but the principle of the campaign, or rather, the essential secret that must be grasped.

Since the establishment of the vassalage system, large-scale battles between human kingdoms and beastmen had been few and far between. There were both internal and external factors for this. On the one hand, the long-term struggle for power between the papal line and the Knight-Noble factions meant that the clergy’s legions and the secular lords could not fight as a unified force. On the other hand, with the exception of the Goblin King, most beastman kings lacked the objective conditions to launch a major campaign. The infiltration, sabotage, reproduction, and displacement by smaller beastmen were the main reasons for the constant loss of territory by humans. Based on these practical needs, human warfare models were basically limited to knight squad anti-infiltration and joint castle defense—two methods people figuratively referred to as “wolf pack plus wolf den tactics.”

The standard knight squad of the Sasan Empire consisted of one Knight, four apprentice knights, one battle priest, six Sacred Warriors, and twenty elite cavalry, for a total of thirty-two men, expandable by sixty-eight cavalry to a full complement of one hundred. A Legion of eight thousand men, composed of eighty full hundred-man knight squads, was already the largest operational formation in the human kingdoms, commanded by a Gold Knight.

The Sasan Empire once had a legion completely annihilated by the Legendary centaur Orogar, a shock that reverberated throughout the a human kingdoms.

If the Sidon Centaurs hadn’t lost their minds and launched a collective attack on the East Pioneer Fief, the Radiant Knights and the Sasan Empire would not have had to assemble a four-hundred-thousand-strong army from across the human kingdoms for a pitched battle.

It now seemed that the centaurs’ unwise all-out war was a conspiracy by the centaur God-favored to unify the Westdon Khanate, while conveniently clearing out the excess goblin slaves in their territory.

Regardless, neither the centaurs nor the humans had ever fought such a large-scale pitched battle.

The centaurs’ abysmal logistics determined that they had no chance of victory. In fact, the centaurs had not been preparing for a pitched battle with the humans; they were doing what they always did—birthing foals and raiding for tents. Once they were done, they were all preparing to go home for the winter. They relied on the speed of their four legs and looked down on the short-legged human army, but the Sasan Empire was not about to let them escape so easily.

The battle plan proposed by Priest Kent was novel and bold. He organized the mid-to-high-rank extraordinary individuals into a separate knight cluster, used the Temple Army as the main offensive force, and kept the elite cavalry as reserves to be committed to the battlefield in waves. This method completely overturned the traditional wolf pack plus wolf den tactics. But everyone listened to Kent’s opinion seriously, and after careful study, they found no flaws and agreed to adopt his battle plan.

The facts proved that Kent’s battle plan was effective—extremely effective. The allied casualties were far lower than the centaurs’.

Defeating the centaurs was within everyone’s expectations, but why was the victory so stunning?

“Big-Mouthed” Kent asked, beaming with joy, “You’ve all heard of the Grand Legion Strategy that Victor has been working on, right?”

Everyone had long heard about Victor tinkering with his Grand Legion Strategy. The House of Randell had first sought the support of Pope Clement to recruit their mercenary legion. Initially, the major powers had treated it as idle gossip, only truly paying attention to his Grand Legion Strategy after Victor’s reputation began to soar.

However, the great lords generally believed that the political significance of the Grand Legion outweighed its practical combat value. This was because the Grand Legion itself represented the prelude to the Great Age of Expansion, legitimately incorporating the refugee population into the pioneering process.

As for how much combat effectiveness a mercenary legion could have? Without being tested in real combat, no one could say for sure.

Emperor Friedrich turned his head and asked uncertainly, “Kent, are you saying… His Highness Randell has already perfected the operational principles of the Grand Legion?”

Chapter 661: Missing the Point

“Emperor Friedrich’s question was a contradiction in itself.”

“The Grand Legion Strategy originated from an early concept of His Highness Randall’s and had never been tested in real combat. On what basis could operational principles be established?”

“However, such a question seemed perfectly normal when posed to Victor, who had awakened an extraordinary wisdom talent.”

“Auroxia, with a woman’s unique sensitivity and intuition, keenly grasped a key point and said in a soft voice, ‘A sand table map?’”

“It’s wargaming.”

Priest Kent hadn’t earned the nickname “Big Mouth” for nothing. He said, rather smugly, “Although His Highness Randall doesn’t have much experience in commanding wars, his wisdom is exceptional. He came up with the brilliant idea of using a sand table map to simulate the changing situations of a local war. This involves referencing factors from both sides, such as their characteristics, the comparison of their forces, the combat terrain, and so on. The more detailed, the better. Through constant maneuvering between the two sides, we simulate the real combat situation of a Grand Legion. Hmm, it’s just like playing chess… I’m very familiar with the Centaurs, so Victor asked me to do wargaming simulations of a Grand Legion fighting against them. We played several hundred rounds. Many of the methods used in this battle were refined during those simulations.”

Gold Paladin Relgarrel followed up, asking, “For example, sending the knight formations to fight alone?”

“Yes.” Priest Kent nodded. “I was the one who proposed forming knight formations for independent operations, and the reasons I gave to convince you were more than sufficient. If not for the several hundred rounds of wargaming, how could I have devised the charging tactics for the knight formations so quickly?”

“I certainly don’t have His Highness Randall’s genius.”

He paused, his jocular expression turning serious. “Through wargaming, Victor proposed two crucial decisive factors for Grand Legion warfare.”

The Gold Knights fell silent, listening intently. Even the roaring bonfire seemed to dim as Kent spoke. “The first is the contact front… Victor believes that in a large-scale battle, there’s no causal relationship between the number of soldiers and their actual combat effectiveness. It’s not that the side with more soldiers is necessarily stronger. This is because the soldiers in the rear ranks can’t even touch the enemy, so naturally, they have no combat effectiveness. Unless the front-rank soldiers are all wiped out, they can only stand and watch on the battlefield.”

“A key to victory lies in expanding our contact front while shrinking the enemy’s.”

The listeners by the bonfire were all Extraordinary powerhouses, so they naturally understood what Priest Kent was describing. For example, when the knight formations fought inside the Centaur camp, their contact front was one hundred percent, while the Centaurs’ contact front against the knight formations was pitifully small. The vast majority of Centaurs could only watch from behind, unable to bring their strength to bear. What use were their superior numbers then? Were they to line up and be slaughtered by the knights until their Aura was depleted and they collapsed from exhaustion? The reality was that if the knight formations could break in, they could break out of the encirclement. Apart from a formation of Dire Centaurs, no Centaur could stop them.

With ordinary soldiers as the main body of a large-scale battle, Priest Kent’s choice to commit them in batches and waves, sending troops wherever they were needed, was ultimately aimed at expanding their own contact front and reducing the enemy’s. For instance, three thousand human soldiers used the opening created by the knight formations to divide and encircle three thousand Centaurs. The Centaur warriors, squeezed in by their own kind, had no room to attack and were relegated to being spectators on the battlefield. Meanwhile, the three thousand human soldiers, attacking from multiple directions, still had a one-hundred-percent contact front against the surrounded Centaurs.

If this principle was correct, then it could be used to develop tactics for large-scale battles.

Priest Kent continued, “The second decisive factor is morale. Victor refers to a drop or surge in morale as emotional contagion. He even believes that in a large-scale battle, emotional contagion is the internal condition that determines victory or defeat.”

“This needs no explanation; you’ve all seen the results.”

The crowd fell silent. Countless soldiers were still working through the night, butchering the Centaur carcasses. If the bodies were piled up, they would surely form a small mountain. Centaur leather was of excellent quality, and their sinews were tough, suitable for use as bowstrings for ballistae. The meat tasted no different from horse meat. The more than forty thousand Centaurs were clearly a massive fortune. However, the human allied forces had only killed half of that total. The other half had died at the hands of their own kind.

The Centaurs’ frenzied self-slaughter made the high-ranking knights and clergy cautious and vigilant, worried that a similar camp insurrection might occur among the human army.

Patriarch Flidis silently stared into the bonfire. After a moment, he broke into a smile. “The workings of a sapient mind are tied to the chaotic future, the most difficult change to fathom. A hundred desperate men can summon the greatest courage, while a hundred brave men can be cast into the abyss of Despair by a single setback.”

“Courage and conviction are like the light of the mind; fear and Despair are like a plague of the mind. The more Centaur warriors there are, the faster the mental plague spreads and the more violently it erupts, until the casualties are devastating and the army collapses.” Priest Kent also smiled and said, “That’s my view. His Highness Randall’s saying is…”

“To attack the enemy, first attack their minds.”

The flames of the bonfire began to dance again. Duke Baselius sighed, “His Highness Randall is truly a genius.”

Victor was not yet thirty years old. His life experience was far less than that of old priests like Flidis and Kent. For him to be able to summarize the principle of “To attack the enemy, first attack their minds,” wasn’t he a genius?

As Charlottia Benedict listened, she grew happier. “To attack the enemy, first attack their minds,” was precisely Tournans’s specialty. Then there was the “contact front” principle, which coincided with Tournans’s martial arts tenet of “exchanging time for space, and space for time.”

Tournans had once explained the mysteries of the fire of the mind to Victor. For His Highness Randall to be able to extrapolate from that and apply My love’s summarized martial arts experience to large-scale battles, he was indeed a genius, Charlottia mused to herself. Acknowledging Victor’s talent was affirming Tournans’s achievements. As Tournans’s wife, she felt happy for her husband.

“The tactic of ‘Surround on three sides, leave one open’ was also proposed by Victor during our wargaming sessions. He said that even a cornered rabbit will bite, let alone a cornered beastman legion. When you’re not confident of annihilating the enemy, you can consider leaving them an escape route to foster a mentality of avoiding battle.” Kent struck his fist into his palm, saying with some chagrin, “I completely agreed with his view… a little too much, in fact. I created an additional escape route at the northeast corner, allowing many Centaurs to flee… If I had stuck to the ‘Surround on three sides, leave one open’ tactic, we might have reaped far more than forty-five thousand Centaurs.”

Flidis was in a good mood and offered words of comfort, “This battle will surely be sung of in epics and regarded as a classic… Brother Kent, we can slowly discuss and sort out the gains and losses of this battle later. I’d like to ask, in exploring the Grand Legion Strategy, does His Highness Randall believe that large-scale battles are more advantageous to humans?”

Kent nodded and said, “His Highness Randall is full of confidence in the Grand Legion. He asserts that no beastman can contend with a human legion in a large-scale battle. I share his view. The battle between the Black Emperor and the Goblin King in the Golden Age is the clearest example.”

At the end of the Golden Age, the Black Emperor Galshmir had gathered an army of eight hundred thousand to fight the Goblin King’s several million beastmen for months in Wailing Valley. Although the histories compiled by the Church recorded it as a disastrous defeat for the Black Emperor, with the city-state armies losing five hundred thousand men, they had killed seven giant white apes enslaved by the Goblin King and annihilated a million beastmen, successfully halting the southward momentum of the beastman army.

The Battle of Wailing Valley was the largest-scale battle ever launched by humans in the Radiant Calendar. The high-ranking clergy of today had no intention of clearing the Black Emperor’s name, nor did they need to save face for the Pope. Looking purely at the comparison of forces in the battle, the Black Emperor’s allied city-state army could be said to have won a great victory.

In the human kingdoms of today, the Church was the only organization capable of launching large-scale campaigns. It was also a proven fact that Sacred Warriors with steadfast faith could rout beastman armies several times their size. Following the principles of Grand Legion warfare deduced by His Highness Randall, Patriarch Flidis believed that if the Sasan Empire, in coordination with the Radiant Knights, adopted a large-scale battle model against the beastmen, they could sweep through the Northern Wildlands and reclaim humanity’s ancestral lands.

Auroxia spoke in a soft voice, “Historically, all campaigns launched by the human kingdoms have started with victory and ended in defeat, with continuous loss of territory. Why? Because the foolish beastmen have never had a concept of a campaign. Their sole purpose for war is that their numbers are too great, and they must unleash a Beast Tide upon humanity. If the beastmen can defeat us humans, they keep fighting; if they can’t, they run. The Beast Tide in the Twilight Forest was like this… The essence of the Sidon Centaurs’ raid on the East Pioneer Fief was also to reduce their surplus of goblin slaves. It’s just that an ambitious one appeared among the Sidon Centaurs, one who wanted to become the Great Khan, which is what gave us the opportunity to launch a large-scale campaign.”

No matter how powerful the human Grand Legions were, what could they do if the beastmen refused to fight?

Flidis was stunned, a sense of dashed hopes filling him with frustration. They had come full circle, right back to the old pioneer model of fortress fortifications combined with knight squads.

Compared to Flidis and the Gold Paladins, the Sasan Emperor quietly breathed a sigh of relief. This battle had nearly drained Blood Wolfhold’s coffers. The Sasan Empress had sent word that Blood Wolfhold had secretly borrowed one million two hundred thousand Gold Sols from the Baselius family to cover war expenses. If future pioneer wars were all fought like this, it would really be the death of the Emperor.

Friedrich smiled, “His Highness Randall developed the Grand Legion to deal with the Ant-man tide. Only the brainless Ant-men would dare to directly face a human legion numbering in the hundreds of thousands.”

Flidis thought it over calmly, then frowned and asked, “Can’t the three fortresses in the Centaur Hills stop the Ant-man plague? If the three fortresses can’t stop the Ant-man tide, Sylvia wouldn’t have spent a fortune building them. If the three fortresses can stop the Ant-man tide, why does Sylvia support Victor in developing the Grand Legion? Unless they believe there is another, more powerful opponent that requires a Grand Legion to deal with.”

Grand Legion warfare could significantly enhance the Church’s influence, and the high-ranking clergy of the Radiant Knights were unwilling to abandon the Grand Legion just like that. Flidis used the pretext of an unknown disaster to urge the lords of the Sasan Empire to continue developing the Grand Legion. However, the secular lords, including the Sasan Emperor and the Baselius family, shied away from large-scale battles.

In truth, the core of the Grand Legion Strategy was Standardization, and the prerequisite for Standardization was the Centralized Allotted Land System. In other words, one must first centralize financial revenue before one can centralize large forces for battle. Without these two things, a lord would lose his shirt fighting a large-scale battle, regardless of victory or defeat. Emperor Friedrich had to provide money for the rewards and compensation for all the participating lords and the soldiers of the Blood Wolf Family. The lords of the various families also had to reward and compensate their own knights and soldiers. With hundreds of thousands from the Sasan Empire participating, not to mention the reinforcements from the various kingdoms, the Sasan Emperor and the lords were already feeling immense financial pressure.

Duke Baselius changed the subject, saying, “The Centaur God-favored gathered the Dire Centaurs from all the tribes to sweep through the defensive fortifications in the southeast corner. I was particularly worried at the time that they would break through from the southeast and then lead the Centaur army to counter-encircle the one hundred twenty thousand soldiers on the eastern front… Fortunately, the Centaur tribe responsible for the rear guard chose to break out from the northeast, taking a large number of Centaur warriors with them, thereby thwarting the Sidon Centaurs’ potential to counter-encircle the human allied forces.”

Auroxia added, “It was thanks to His Highness Roland Auguste and Charlottia deliberately letting the two Centaur Chiliarchs from the Blue-eye tribe go.”

Charlottia felt a pang of shame. Composing herself, she went along with the topic, “Since the Centaur God-favored was able to gather the powerhouses from all the tribes, it shows that it has already gained initial control over the Westdon Khanate. Although the chiliarchs of the Blue-eye tribe have shaken its authority, it’s hard to say how long they can hold out under the pressure of the Centaur God-favored.”

Everyone wore a solemn expression. Flidis no longer pestered them about the Grand Legion and instead asked, “Uther, what do you think of that Centaur God-favored’s strength?”

Duke Baselius said gravely, “At least half-step to Legendary! From the current situation, it’s only a matter of time before it advances to a Great Centaur and awakens the Armor of the Earth talent. At that point, the Blue-eye tribe will be completely unable to stand against it. Therefore, we must act quickly, split our forces into two, and pursue the two Centaur groups separately to kill as many of the tribes’ ordinary warriors as possible.”

“Friedrich, my proposal is this: my Griffin Knights, along with the Teutonic Duchy’s Moon Bear Knights and the Radiant Knights, will be responsible for pursuing the strongest of them, the Centaur God-favored. You will lead the Blood Wolf Knights, Swift Dragon Knights, and Iron Wall Knights in pursuit of the Blue-eye tribe fleeing to the northeast.” Duke Baselius looked the Sasan Emperor straight in the eye and said sincerely, “The Blood Wolf Knights suffered considerable losses in this battle. It’s time for our Griffin Knights to contribute.”

More than a decade ago, Sylvia had praised Duke Baselius as the Gold Knight closest to the Legendary rank. So many years had passed; perhaps Uther was only one opportunity away from the Legendary-rank. Blood Wolfhold and the Baselius family had a secret cooperation, but there were more disagreements. Friedrich absolutely did not want Baselius to advance to Legendary Knight at this time. He shook his head and smiled, “As the lord of the Sasan Empire, how can I let the Main culprit who invaded the Empire’s Pioneer Fief get away? Uther, don’t argue with me over this.”

Baselius’s eyes narrowed, and he said in a low voice, “The Centaur God-favored’s strength is no small matter. The Gold Paladins can deal with it. Friedrich, you had best be cautious. If the Blood Wolf Knights’ pursuit is fruitless and it escapes, we will be facing a Sidon Great Khan.”

Gold Paladins could reach the Legendary-rank for a short period, but to stop a Centaur Khan in a Deeply Savaged State, they would need the coordinated efforts of many more High-ranked Knights.

Baselius was blunt about the Blood Wolf Knights’ insufficient strength, but Friedrich said coolly, “The main reinforcements from Giantstone Fortress have already entered the heartland of the Westdon Khanate. His Majesty Neo Wester and his Unicorn Knights are on their way to us now. With him here, I believe the Centaur God-favored is doomed.”

Auroxia’s eyes flickered as she asked in surprise, “His Highness Randall and the others have dealt with the Goblin Lord?”

Patriarch Flidis gave a cough and interjected, “We can’t be certain yet… However, Testier said before he left that once they set off for the Northern Wildlands to assassinate the Goblin Lord, the main reinforcements in the Giantstone Fortress war zone could safely advance deep into the heartland of the Westdon Khanate to sweep the Centaurs’ lairs.”

The corners of Charlottia’s mouth lifted into a faint smile. “Grand Commander Testier has Tournans and His Highness Randall with him. The Goblin Lord won’t be able to make a move! What’s more… His Holiness the Pope and Tournans’s Tutor are also in the party.”

Just a few people were enough to make the Goblin King’s great army stand down. Such was the deterrent power of top-tier Extraordinary powerhouses.

“Your Excellency Tournans’s Tutor?” Auroxia’s gaze shifted to Charlottia as she asked with curiosity, “Which His Excellency from the Church is it?”

“That His Excellency is not well-known.” Charlottia’s smile grew even more radiant as she said demurely, “But he is a Sacred Warrior master who is close to the Saint realm.”

Duke Baselius exchanged a look with his Family Guardian, let out a breath, and nodded. “Alright, the Griffin Knights will be responsible for pursuing the Blue-eye tribe.”

Patriarch Flidis stood up, looked around, and asked, “Where is Princess Auguste?”

Charlottia replied, “After she skinned the Gold Centaur, she returned to Duncan Fortress with the high-ranking female knights from Gambis.”

Flidis shook his head and said, “The commander defending Duncan Fortress secretly left her defense zone to run off to the battlefield and hunt a Centaur Chiliarch… This Princess is truly a handful. Victor’s farewell request for me to keep a close watch on Princess Auguste was prescient. I’ll head back to Duncan Fortress now and have a good talk with Her Highness Auguste.”

Roland and Neo Wester had a blood feud. If she slipped out of Duncan Fortress again and ran into Neo Wester, it would be a huge problem. Patriarch Flidis absolutely could not let that happen. He had no choice but to go to Duncan Fortress himself to keep an eye on Roland Auguste.

Chapter 662: Lure and Kill, and a Trial

Deep in a forest thousands of kilometers away, Victor had run into a bit of trouble.

According to the plan they had made to lure and kill the Manticore, the three Highnesses—Victor, Clark, and Strange—were responsible for infiltrating the mine where the Goblin Lord was hiding. They were to draw the Manticore to an ambush point at the foot of the Giantstone Mountains, where Tournans and Ron would handle it first. If Ron couldn’t kill the Manticore on his own, everyone else would join in. Clement and Testier, along with the rest of the team, were at a more distant hiding spot, ready to provide combat and divine arts support if necessary. Since most of them couldn’t avoid the Manticore’s danger sense, they had to stay far away to avoid scaring it off.

It would be a problem if the Manticore chose to flee; the strike team didn’t have much time to get entangled with it.

And the Manticore did flee. The moment it saw the Bone Bead in Victor’s hand, it turned and ran without a half-second’s delay, looking as terrified as a rabbit chased by a hungry wolf.

Victor and the two Stormwind Paladins were dumbfounded. They had shot down over a hundred beastmen guards that had charged out from near the mine and broken through the encirclement. After finding a secluded place to discuss their next move, they ultimately decided to hunt down the Manticore. Tens of thousands of beastmen were stationed near the mine where the Goblin Lord was hiding. While breaking out on the surface wasn’t difficult for the team, if they entered the narrow tunnels, they would be in serious trouble if the beastman army cornered them inside. Failing to kill the Goblin Lord and letting the Manticore go free was not an option; after roaming for a while, it might still return to the Goblin Lord’s side.

Strange, who had seen the Goblin Lord before, stayed behind to keep watch on the mine. Clark went back to inform the others of the change in plans so Testier and the rest could adapt. Victor alone tracked the fleeing Manticore. He spent two days trailing it, making a wide loop of over a thousand kilometers that led him into a forest.

The forest was filled with tall, straight Piers Sword Firs. The trunks and leaves of these trees were like swords pointing at the sky, an effective defense against wind and snow that also allowed sunlight to reach the ground. As a result, many low shrubs and meadows grew, making it a frequent haunt for fierce beasts and monsters.

Victor held an Adamantine longsword and walked unhurriedly through the forest, his feet treading on the withered yellow grass. The howls of Gnoll cubs echoed from a distance, and he couldn’t help but furrow his fine, straight brows.

Not all Gnolls possessed wild intuition, but Gnoll packs usually had Savage members who could sense danger and keep the rest of the pack quiet. Victor hadn’t deliberately concealed himself, but his aura was attuned to nature, giving him a natural “invisibility” effect while walking through the forest. The Gnoll lair was also quite far from his position, so it was normal that the Savage Gnolls hadn’t noticed him. A Manticore was a ferociously fearsome magical beast, yet the Gnoll cubs were still practicing their howls in the woods. This meant the Manticore, much like Tournans, could conceal its presence.

This was clearly bad news.

The Manticore certainly didn’t know the Golden Toad Mystic Form, which meant it must have a natural mastery of the Touch of the Mind.

Victor had anticipated this, but he still felt an extra layer of pressure. The Manticore’s powerful predictive talent raised the difficulty of the hunt by a whole level, and the margin for error in the entire strike plan had shrunk considerably.

The Manticore was truly a monster inherited from an ancient era!

Victor carefully surveyed the forest, searching for marks left by the Alchemical Soldiers. In the intervals of tracking his prey, he had sent out a messenger raven to summon four Alchemical Soldiers to assist him. They were a crucial part of his revised hunting plan.

“Master, this way.”

“Master, this way.”

The forest wind carried the ethereal voices of the Alchemical Soldiers to Victor’s ears. The howling of the Gnoll cubs suddenly stopped. He tilted his head to listen for a moment, pinpointed the direction, and a smile touched the corners of his mouth. Reversing his grip on his sword, he moved quickly toward the source of the sound, dry leaves and twigs rustling under his boots. Soon, he arrived at a clearing and saw the terrifying monster.

Mortals in the human kingdoms were unfamiliar with the Manticore. In the horror stories of Bards, it was described as a lion with the wings of a Dragon and the tail of a scorpion, preying specifically on human children. In the texts from the Era of the Chosen, however, there were many records of Manticores.

The Manticore, also known as the Flying Lion Monster, had the body of a red lion, the face and ears of a man, and three rows of sharp teeth in its upper and lower jaws. Its eyes were as venomous as those of a jealous woman and as contemptuous as those of a violent man. Thus, it was the personification of brutality and jealousy. It often mimicked various sounds to lure its victims into the darkness to be devoured alone.

The legendary monster lay in a clearing three hundred meters ahead of Victor. Its body was twice the size of an ordinary spotted tiger and weighed at least one ton. Its brilliant red mane flowed like fire, shot through with a luster like yellow sand. But across its chest and belly was a shockingly large, hideous scar, as if it had been corroded by acid over a long period, making it look both ugly and ferocious.

It gently swished its scorpion tail. Beside it lay the remains of a human, skin blackened and flesh melted away. The six-legged crocodile Vine-hide armor and Adamantine battleaxe revealed his identity.

This half-lion, half-scorpion monster had the face of an ape. Its mouth, filled with sharp teeth, opened and closed, emitting a voice that perfectly mimicked one of the Alchemical Soldiers:

“Master, this way.”

Victor’s dark gold eyes narrowed slightly. The Manticore was imitating the voices of different Alchemical Soldiers to lure him out. This meant that the few Alchemical Soldiers who had come as reinforcements were already finished.

The Alchemical Soldiers were far inferior to the Manticore, but they possessed strength comparable to mid-rank Knights and shared a psychic link. Four of them, fearless of death and working together, should have had a high probability of killing a Silver rank monster. More importantly, the Soul Fire of alchemical creatures was of an extremely high level, making them immune to most Spirit-based extraordinary attacks. Victor had thought that four Alchemical Soldiers could at least cause the Manticore some trouble, but the result was a great disappointment.

The Manticore lay lazily on the ground, a human-like, mocking expression on its face. Its ghastly, mottled green eyes were reminiscent of a deadly poison.

Victor met the Manticore’s gaze and felt a slight sting in his eyes, forcing him to blink.

The Manticore lunged without a sound. In the blink of an eye, its enormous, powerful claws were right in front of Victor, a single instant from tearing him to shreds.

At that moment, Victor’s eyes had turned a pure, dark gold. Faced with the Manticore’s swift and ferocious attack, he seemed like a divine being who had seen through all secrets. The flow of time slowed thirtyfold in his indifferent gaze. He raised his left hand, encased in an Adamantine gauntlet, and gently seized one of the Manticore’s extended claws. With a sharp twist, an irresistible force completely warped the monster’s attack. The Adamantine longsword in his right hand flashed with an indigo light as it stabbed straight for the pulse of the monster’s heart.

Apocalypse!

Body of Gossamer shifting to Body of Bedrock!

Azure Blade!

Apocalypse didn’t truly slow down time; it merely increased Victor’s processing speed by thirty times, making the Manticore’s and his own movements seem thirty times slower in his perception. But his strike was faster than the Manticore’s. The power unleashed by his Body of Bedrock might not match the Manticore’s, but it was enough to toss it into the air, and prying open its claws was even easier.

The invincible Azure Blade accurately struck the Manticore’s chest. Victor immediately felt a layered, flexible resistance that stopped the Adamantine longsword, wreathed in the void wind element, from advancing another inch. The blue light spread along the resistance, coating half of the Manticore’s body in an azure halo of crackling arcs of electricity. With a series of pops, it transformed into a chaotic torrent of black-green air that shot out behind the monster, following the layers of resistance.

The Azure Blade was actually ineffective?!

Before the Manticore could even adjust its footing, it was struck again on its ears, eyes, nose, mouth, ribs, and groin—all vital points.

Flashes of blue light flickered one after another as a hurricane swept through the clearing. Shrubs snapped and fell, their cuts so clean they looked as if they had been sliced by a sharp blade.

Victor’s series of fierce attacks had failed to take effect, yet the Manticore remained unable to keep its balance, staggering unsteadily. Its pride deeply wounded, the Flying Lion Monster relied on its psychic intuition, raised its scorpion tail, and whipped it forward in a blur, aiming directly for its enemy’s chest.

The Manticore’s tail strike was as fast as lightning. Under the Apocalypse state, Victor switched from Body of Bedrock to Body of Gossamer, becoming like a tangible yet formless specter. With a slight sway, he dodged the fatal sting and reappeared thirty meters away.

That last attack from the Manticore had nearly forced him to use Void Walk.

Having failed to land its own ultimate move, the Manticore felt a tinge of retreat. It let out a low, menacing growl at Victor that sounded disturbingly like the cry of a baby, raising the hair on one’s neck.

Victor opened his mouth, revealing the Bone Bead he held inside. With a contemptuous smile, he turned and leaped away.

When the Manticore saw the remains of its former partner, a half-inch-long gleam shot from its ghastly green eyes. Its ape-like face contorted with intense brutality, and it silently gave chase, bounding out of the forest after Victor.

The Will Side of the Alchemical militia contained simple but accurate information about Manticores. They were Ancient Behemoths, direct offspring of Manticore, the Lord of the Caverns. Their relationship was akin to that of the Hydra Lizard and the King of the Black Marsh.

The progenitor Manticore might have truly possessed a pair of Dragon wings, but its descendants did not. The Manticore was also called the Flying Lion Monster, but it could not fly. Instead, its innate force field talent could resist all types of damage, making it virtually invulnerable. It could also create a channel that negated air resistance, allowing it to move through complex terrain with ease, as if it were flying.

The Manticore’s second talent was telepathy, which was essentially the Touch of the Mind. However, the Manticore could detect the sounds its prey most desired to hear and imitate them to lure its victim close. It would then use its venomous gaze to paralyze the prey for an easy capture.

Venomous Gaze: A Manticore’s stare could paralyze a target’s soul, which would then affect the body. Weaker creatures would be poisoned to death directly. Powerful beings targeted by the Manticore’s lure-and-kill tactic would not die from the Venomous Gaze, but would be gradually paralyzed. The power of the Gaze grew the longer the Manticore stared, and by the time the prey realized what was happening, it was already too late.

The Manticore was a demon of the darkness, the most insidious of assassins. They almost never engaged in direct confrontation, even though their claws could easily tear through Adamantine armor, their strength surpassed that of an Ogre Warlord, and their bodies were extremely tough. In the ancient era, their physique and strength were considered merely average; their tail stinger was their true weapon for deterring powerful foes.

The stinger of an adult Manticore could even paralyze a true Dragon. Against a smaller opponent, a single sting from a Manticore meant death was only a matter of time.

The Manticore’s Venomous Gaze was its primary means of defeating enemies. But at its core, it was a mind talent, and thus had a limited effect on creatures with a high Spirit attribute. The genius of the Venomous Gaze, however, was that it was not a fatal skill. It rarely triggered a target’s mental stress response or resistance to psychic poisons. The Manticore used its “look full of tender affection” to slowly paralyze a powerful opponent’s mind.

Therefore, a Manticore had to be very fast, so as not to lose its target; it also had to be slippery enough not to be killed in a single blow.

The force field provided the Manticore with extraordinary speed and defense.

How fast was a Manticore?

Without his Body of Gossamer and Wind Walk, Victor truly couldn’t outrun it. A Gold rank Gale Knight, after entering a state of Semi-elementalization, could also shake off a Manticore and resist its Venomous Gaze. However, a typical Gale Knight would have to compete with the Manticore in a battle of endurance; once their Aura was depleted, they would most likely fall prey to it. A Stormwind Paladin, with their Aura enhanced by divine arts, could keep up with a Manticore.

However, the defense of the force field was insanely strong. Neither Victor’s Nemesis nor his Azure Blade could break through it. Even if he could track the Manticore, it would ultimately come down to a battle of stamina, and it was likely that neither would be able to do anything to the other.

Legendary creatures would have gone extinct long ago if they didn’t have a few ultimate tricks up their sleeves.

The Manticore chased after Victor, glaring daggers at his back. But Victor felt no discomfort at all. He held the Bone Bead in his mouth, a faint, sweet coolness seeping into his mind. It tasted like Sylvia’s kiss.

Back when Victor was still weak, Sylvia, terrified that he would be poisoned, had given her lover the Poison Sac Bone Bead from a Manticore. This bead was infused with Sylvia’s love for him. Holding it, Victor could naturally feel its sweetness, but the will of the divine Spirit Knight was not so friendly to others.

Even if Victor placed the Bone Bead in plain sight, an ordinary person would automatically ignore it. Testier felt a sense of oppression just by looking at it for a few seconds, let alone holding and playing with it. Everyone had mistakenly believed this was an effect caused by the residual will of the dead Manticore. Sylvia had specially removed the negative effects of the bead just for Victor.

It was only when this living Manticore saw the Bone Bead and fled in terror that Victor realized the powerful will Sylvia had infused into it.

Manticores were terrifying and insidious assassins, not particularly brave to begin with. Sylvia had left a deep psychological scar on this male monster, so much so that he didn’t even dare to avenge his spouse.

The Manticore was essentially a Legendary creature with an affinity for the water element; its Venomous Gaze and force field were both manifestations of the void water element. Sylvia had actually used the void water element to break its force field. No wonder it was scared to death upon sensing Sylvia’s aura.

Still, Victor felt a bit indignant. How could the renowned Gold-Eyed Earl be outshone by his own wife?

The Flying Lion Monster’s force field was resilient, dense, endless, and slippery. But the void wind element possessed the extraordinary properties of sharpness and armor-piercing, making it particularly adept at puncturing a defense at a single point. His Nemesis, Azure Blade, and Charged Shot were all ineffective against the Manticore, but Victor was quite eager to see if it could withstand his Tracking Magic Arrow.

However, he had already promised to bring the Manticore to the Sacred Warrior, Ron. If Ron could ascend to Radiant God of War through this, he had promised Victor he would resolve Caligula’s mental flaw without taking Aka away.

So, the Manticore’s decision to flee had caused Victor a lot of trouble. He had summoned the four Alchemical Soldiers to act as helpers, but in reality, he was using them to build up the Manticore’s confidence. After killing the four Alchemical Soldiers, the Manticore’s innate brutality and jealousy were finally roused. It cast aside its fear, realizing that terrifying woman was not here.

By killing her spouse, I can make her taste the same pain I have suffered… The Manticore locked its eyes on Victor, determined to kill him even if it had to chase him to the end of the mountains.

The Manticore with the great scar on its body pursued Victor, easily leaping onto a cliff. Its four claws danced across the smooth glacier, its gliding speed truly like flight. Its ghastly, mottled green eyes tracked the back of its prey’s head. As the prey drew closer and closer, an excited and cruel expression appeared on its ape-like face.

Just then, it suddenly noticed that as its prey shot past, a tiny point was rapidly expanding, instantly filling its entire field of vision and mind. It was a bald, barefoot Giant. Platinum-gold runes slowly rotated on his mountain-like body. A great platinum-gold hand blotted out the sky, the mountains, the glacier, and the Giant himself… The sun and moon vanished, heaven and earth inverted. It seemed the entire world was reduced to this single platinum-gold palm crashing down upon it. The Manticore couldn’t help but let out a wail that sounded like a baby’s cry.

In Victor’s eyes, the Master Ron stood his ground. As the Manticore ran toward him, he raised his platinum-gold palm and simply slapped it on its head. The Manticore let out a mournful cry and died on the spot.

Smite Evil, a unique divine art of a 6th-level Sacred Warrior, was said to be an attack that could nullify all extraordinary abilities. High-ranking Sacred Warriors had once used Smite Evil against ancient Wizards, and later to cow Extraordinary Knights. Today, Ron had used it to slay a Manticore.

Of course, the effectiveness of Smite Evil was related to the Sacred Warrior’s spiritual level. An ordinary 6th-level Sacred Warrior certainly couldn’t kill a Legendary creature like a Manticore in a single blow.

Victor stared at the Master Ron’s chest and asked in a solemn voice, “Master, are you all right?”

The Manticore’s stinger was embedded in Ron’s left chest, right where his heart was!

The Sacred Warrior casually pulled out the Manticore’s stinger. The thumb-sized hole over his heart healed at a visible rate, sealing the terrible poison within his body. Without a word, he turned and left, his expression as serene as ever.

Tournans walked over from a distance. He picked up the Manticore by the scruff of its neck and watched Ron’s retreating back, his expression pious and grave as he said:

“Tutor is beginning to accept the Lord’s trial… Let’s go back.”

Chapter 663: Attaining Sainthood and Becoming Light

Ron wanted to use the Manticore as a stepping stone for his advancement to a Seventh-level Sacred Warrior, and Victor had wondered about the method he planned to use. Given the Flying Lion Monster’s speed and mobility, it was almost impossible for Ron to pose a threat to it. Even if they clashed, the battle would be decided in an instant. Because the decisive moment would be so brief and intense, Victor was skeptical whether Ron could actually use it to break through the bottleneck of his rank.

However, Master Ron had cultivated in seclusion for decades, honing his mind, external force, inner potential, and holy power to their absolute limit. Perhaps he was just one opportunity away from perfectly integrating his holy power with himself.

In any case, this was an internal affair of the Church, and Victor wouldn’t interfere recklessly. If he could witness the birth of a Radiant God of War, it would certainly benefit his own theoretical research into the Mind Bloodline secret art. Besides, even if Ron failed, Victor stood to lose nothing.

The battle between Ron and the Manticore had been breathtaking in its simplicity. His evil-shattering slash had directly shattered the Manticore’s soul without harming its hide or bones, preserving the war trophy in its most complete state.

Victor had not expected that the Manticore’s venom was Ron’s true objective on this trip.

Alright, the venom was indeed the most valuable war trophy from a Manticore, but could a human body possibly withstand it?

Even an adult Dragon couldn’t endure a single sting from a Manticore. Ron’s body weight was less than one percent of a Dragon’s. Logically, he should have been reduced to a pile of sludge by the venom by now, yet he walked forward step by step as if nothing was wrong.

To be precise, Ron did show some signs of abnormality. The platinum-gold runes on his skin glowed continuously, and his entire body was shrouded in a hazy, holy mist, as if he were wearing a faint suit of Holy Light armor.

After the three returned to camp, Ron remained silent, sitting alone on a wooden stump in the distance. Testier, Trigovar, and the other Gold Paladins had already sensed the void water element in its most toxic form sealed within Ron’s body. When they saw the Manticore’s corpse being dragged in by Tournans, they understood the general situation. They warned the members of the beheading squad not to get close or disturb Master Ron, lest an accident occur—for instance, being poisoned to death by his very breath.

Ron was a zealot who had lived for over a hundred years; his way of thinking was different from that of an ordinary person. But now, with his life hanging in the balance and the path of the Radiant God of War at stake, the atmosphere of the entire squad grew strange. Even the Manticore’s corpse lost its usual appeal. Everyone was concerned about Ron but dared not disturb him, speaking and acting with extreme caution.

After listening to Victor’s account of the battle, Testier found himself in a dilemma. The once-invincible Manticore was now a priceless corpse. The Goblin Lord had lost its backer and was not long for this world. This newly risen beastman kingdom would soon fall apart due to the natural conflicts between its different races. That mid-sized Goat-Headed Monster tribe would be a prime, juicy piece of meat in the eyes of the Ogres and Gnolls.

Logically, Testier should have hurried back to the Giantstone Fortress war zone to oversee the next phase of the war against the beastmen. It would be perfect if he could force the remnants of the Sidon Centaurs into the Goblin Lord’s sphere of influence, letting the Centaurs and other beastman tribes fight over living space.

But Ron’s attempt to break through to a Seventh-level Sacred Warrior was also a major event. Although he was technically part of the Temple Army, at his level, personal will transcended organizational structure. Moreover, Tournans was highly favored by him. Regardless of whether Ron succeeded in becoming a Radiant God of War, as long as Pope Clement didn’t leave, the Grand Commander of the Radiant Knights certainly couldn’t either. The reasoning behind this was self-evident to everyone.

If Ron successfully advanced, he would be able to temporarily influence the Church’s power structure for the rest of his life. For such a momentous event, Victor had the patience to wait until the truth was revealed.

The Gold-Eyed Earl was unwilling to interfere with Ron, and Testier had taken note of his firm intention to remain an observer. After a moment of thought, he tentatively asked Tournans, “It seems Master Ron’s current state is unsuitable for travel?”

Tournans thought for a moment and nodded. “I think we’ll have to wait at least two days. We can set off whenever Tutor Ron feels ready to go.”

Testier nodded and bowed to Clement. “His Holiness, Clark and I will go bring the Strange brothers back.”

Inquisitor-General Trigovar immediately added, “Then I’ll take some men into the forest to hunt.”

The Gold Paladins departing together was certainly a sign they needed to discuss their upcoming plans. Clement gave a faint nod without another word.

By dusk, Trigovar and the Sacred Warriors of the Inquisition returned to the camp with game and firewood. Strange, who was monitoring the Goblin Lord, was a fair distance from the camp, so he did not return with Testier until noon the next day.

After a simple lunch, Grand Commander Testier proposed to the group, “We’ve eliminated the Manticore, but this beastman kingdom has yet to fall into chaos. We need someone to stay behind and use the Manticore’s corpse to intimidate the outlying beastman tribes. Strange and Conlar’s squad are familiar with the surrounding environment, so they can carry out the mission of spreading the news of the Manticore’s death to the beastmen.”

Strange smiled and said, “No problem, this is what we ought to do. We’ll stay here, set up a monitoring camp, and confirm that internal strife has broken out in the beastman kingdom before returning to the Radiant Knights to report.”

Inquisitor-General Trigovar interjected, “The duration of this surveillance mission is hard to say; it could take up to half a year. As it happens, I sent out a messenger raven two days ago. The Inquisition will soon dispatch a twenty-man team to support us. From now on, our Inquisition will be responsible for the regular resupply of this monitoring camp.”

Testier turned to Victor, an apologetic smile on his face. “Cousin Victor, the Manticore’s corpse will have to stay with Strange for now. I will be sure to compensate you for your share of the war trophy.”

Every part of a Manticore was a treasure. Even by the Alchemy Tower’s collection standards, its hide and bones were considered top-tier resources of immeasurable value. But only the Church had the capability to fully process a Manticore. Strange’s talk about splitting the war trophy with Victor was basically a non-starter. The Manticore was only so big; they couldn’t just split it in half, could they? Besides, keeping half a Manticore wouldn’t be very meaningful.

“I only want the Manticore’s Poison Sac Bone Bead, to give to Sylvia.”

Victor smiled freely, then turned to Clement and said, “As for the rest of the war trophy, I would ask His Holiness to help me convert them into two hundred slots to reforge one’s body.”

The Manticore had been killed by Victor and Ron together, so Testier naturally took charge of distributing the spoils, as he was the de facto man in power within the Church. However, as a great lord from the south, Victor was destined to not be in the same camp as the Radiant Knights, so he should also take this opportunity to make his own position clear.

The Gold-Eyed Earl had publicly supported him in front of the four leaders of the Radiant Knights. A warm smile appeared on Pope Clement’s face as he nodded. “That can be done…” He then added, “The Strange brothers’ scout squad only has one priest, so their divine healing arts are somewhat lacking. Priest Kalomon should stay behind as well. Once we return to Giantstone Fortress, I will arrange for another accompanying priest for His Highness Randell.”

“Good, let’s do that,” Testier nodded in agreement.

Next, everyone worked together to help the scout squad that was staying behind gather supplies for the winter. They felled trees to build cabins and made a large amount of smoked meat while making charcoal. In just three days, fourteen semi-subterranean log cabins stood in the scrubland. They were simple but very sturdy, capable of withstanding rain and snow, and also quite concealed. Four of the cabins were filled with charcoal and lightly smoked game, enough to supply thirty people for a month.

Wilderness survival was an essential skill for the Knight-Nobles; the skills of commoners couldn’t even compare to those of noble scions. Victor felt a sense of accomplishment doing these tasks. Caligula, in particular, threw himself into the work with great gusto, busy and happy.

On the morning of the fourth day, Ron, who had been sitting on the stone all this time, finally stood up. The holy phenomenon around his body had also vanished. He nodded to the group, indicating that they could set off.

After bidding farewell to Strange’s scout squad, Victor and the others began their journey home. Ron walked at a fixed pace at the very front of the group. He walked in constant silence, maintaining a distance of thirty meters from the others.

Ron walked at a pace of twelve kilometers per hour. It wasn’t fast, but he didn’t speak, eat, drink, or rest. He just walked. For the first two days, everyone could keep up. After four consecutive days, the mid-rank Sacred Warriors in the team started to struggle. Pope Clement had to use divine arts on them to restore their spirits.

Victor didn’t know what Ron’s current state was, but he had been observing the subtle changes he exhibited. The platinum-gold holy sigils on Ron’s skin were gradually fading. His life form seemed to be evolving from extraordinary back to mortal. If this meant the holy power within him was dissipating, then he was walking on willpower and physical strength alone.

Victor couldn’t judge whether this was a good or bad sign, but Tournans’s barely concealed excitement was a little reassuring.

After another two days and one night of walking, on the tenth day since Ron was poisoned by the Manticore’s venom, the holy sigils on his skin had completely disappeared. Aside from his bald head and bare feet, he now looked no different from a mortal.

Ron suddenly stopped, as if a stone on the ground had bothered his foot. The entire group halted almost simultaneously. Testier stepped forward, his ice-blue eyes shining with Holy Light, and said in a solemn voice, “Master Ron, you…”

A high-rank Paladin’s elemental perception could no longer detect the toxin that had been entrenched in Ron’s body, but his practiced-to-perfection holy power had also vanished.

Ron lifted his leg and stepped onto the air. A platinum-gold halo materialized beneath his foot like a solid stair, supporting him as he walked step-by-step into the void. He turned and said:

“I… attain sainthood today.”

His tone was plain and devoid of any imposing might, yet Victor felt a tremor in his soul. A Gale Knight’s Semi-elementalization could allow them to hover, as could an Earth Knight’s force field. His own Body of Gossamer could achieve the same. But no one could fly. Not even Sylvia could do that.

Ron stood still in the void. This was a breach of the laws of the physical world. The Light of the Mind interfering with reality, the Radiant God of War transcending the mundane and entering sainthood!

The Sacred Warrior master’s calm gaze passed over Testier and landed on Caligula. He said gently, “Child, come here.”

Caligula’s mouth was wide enough to fit a fist. Hearing the words, he looked at Victor, then at Narsen and Tournans. Receiving an affirmative nod, he walked dazedly before Ron.

“Aka, why do you not dare to fight?” Ron asked with a smile.

“Grandpa Ron, Aka… is timid. Aka is scared…” Caligula hung his head in shame.

“It is because you are strong that you are timid, and because you are kind that you are afraid.” Ron nodded and said amiably, “I have read your file and know your history. You grew up in the poorhouse of the Church in Vistock, in the Wellington duchy. Your appetite was three times that of a normal child, which earned you the hatred of the other children. They often found excuses to hit and curse you. When you were five, you pushed a child and injured him. The priest of the poorhouse punished you by starving you for two days and admonished you never to harm others with your strength. From then on, you never dared to fight with anyone.”

Caligula thought for a moment, then shook his head. “…Aka doesn’t remember.”

“It’s alright.” Ron nodded with a sigh. “Actually, I had a similar experience. I was a Sacred Warrior of the Inquisition. The first time I arrested a Wizard, the child’s family tried everything to hide them. My tutor ordered us to torture those who harbored the Wizard. The child was innocent, their parents were innocent, and we were innocent… under such cruel torture, who was guilty? I did not know, and to this day I still don’t know… I believe the Holy Light can bring Redemption to all. It gave me unwavering conviction, a resolve without regret.”

“There is nothing wrong with being strong, and nothing wrong with being kind. What you lack is a courageous conviction, a wellspring for battle.”

Caligula muttered, “Aka… doesn’t understand.”

Ron condensed a point of platinum-gold brilliance at his fingertip. It flew into Caligula’s brow as he said, “The principle behind the Heroism Art is to ignite latent anger. I have planted a seed of valor in you; from this day on, you will be brave.”

Caligula randomly touched his forehead. After a moment, he said with a mournful face, “Grandpa Ron, Aka can’t feel anything.”

Ron laughed and pointed at Caligula. “Aka, you are a miracle of the Supreme Lord. You just have to say ‘I am angry!’ three times, and the Supreme Lord will grant you courage. There’s a pack of Gnolls in the woods to the north. Go, kill them all.”

Caligula glanced at the dense forest, shrank back two steps, and shook his head repeatedly.

“Aka, catch!” Narsen tossed him an Adamantine beheading sword.

Caligula deftly caught the hilt, looking at Victor at a total loss, pleading with his Master for help.

“Don’t be afraid. Go and try,” Victor encouraged, then added, “If you don’t go, you don’t get to eat.”

Caligula had no choice but to take the beheading sword and walk towards the woods, looking back every three steps. Seeing that no one spoke up to keep him, he gritted his teeth and muttered continuously, “Aka is angry, Aka is angry, Aka… is angry!”

“Aka is angry!”

Sacred, platinum-gold runes emerged from the void, spinning in a circle behind Caligula’s head. The muscles on his tall frame bulged. As his war boots hit the ground, an invisible torrent of air surged. He moved faster and faster, finally shooting like an arrow into the vast forest.

That pack of Gnolls was about to have a very bad day.

Ron withdrew his gaze from Caligula and looked at Tournans. He said plainly, “I walked the wrong path. You must hold fast to yours. Today, you will see the form of a Radiant God of War. This is the Lord’s guidance for you, and for all Sacred Warriors.”

As he spoke, a platinum-gold brilliance erupted from within him, and countless holy sigils intertwined and spun. Ron’s entire being seemed to be composed of Holy Light. Three ribbons of Holy Fire emerged from his back, like three pairs of wings wreathed in platinum-gold flames, exuding a vast and solemn aura. The soft light grew brighter until Ron’s form could no longer be distinguished, finally transforming into a swath of pure radiance hanging before their eyes.

“When all is dark, only radiance endures,” the clergy chanted piously towards the Holy Light.

The radiance was like water, illuminating everything in all directions, holy and warm. Yet Victor felt a profound sorrow. Ron, the Seventh-level Sacred Warrior, had been assimilated by the Holy Light just like that.

However, he left behind a precious lesson for all Sacred Warriors: Fanaticism is not the way.

He also left the Church a power at the Saint realm level.

Within the Holy Light, a holy power crystal floated up and down. That was the Sacred Warrior Crystal Ron had condensed, filled with his experience and power—the power of a Radiant God of War.

Testier took the Holy Crystal, turned, and bowed to Clement. “His Holiness, Master Ron’s holy power crystal will be kept by the Radiant Knights… I hope we will never have to use it.”

Chapter 664: Destiny’s Rebound

How powerful is the Radiant God of War?

Victor knew little about the mysteries of divine arts, but his understanding of the world’s laws was exceedingly profound.

Holy power was like a cure-all. It could treat illnesses, heal wounds, strengthen the body, enhance attributes, strike down enemies, and damage souls. However, all things are bound by laws. The essence of holy power is the Light of the Mind from believers, and all its extraordinary effects are simply the orderly application of the four elements by the Light of the Mind through a Divine Art Model.

The elements cannot be equated to the void element. Knights and High Elves could both mobilize elemental power and even manifest void elements. Victor could mobilize the water element within his body using his Surge talent, achieving a power boost equivalent to a Silver-rank Raging Wave Knight. When he transformed into his Body of Bedrock, his strength could reach the basic level of a Gold Earth Knight. If an Earth Knight became semi-elemental, even a Silver-rank one would be slightly stronger than Victor in pure strength. His Body of Gossamer, combined with Wind Walk, was only a fraction faster than a semi-elemental Gold Gale Knight.

For beings of a similar size, a Knight’s elemental attributes represented the limit of their physical enhancement, and any further improvement was extremely difficult. The Radiant God of War’s individual elemental attributes were weaker than a Gold Knight’s, if anything, but he had no weaknesses. He was skilled in both offense and defense, effective at close and long range, could heal himself, and could directly strike an enemy’s soul, with the damage being reflected on their physical body.

Just the six ribbons of Holy Fire trailing behind Ron were enough for Victor to know he couldn’t defeat him. Even if his Soul Fire was strong enough to resist the burning of the Holy Fire, a single moment of distraction would be all Ron needed to kill him. His Nemesis ability and Tracking Magic Arrow would likely be useless against the Radiant God of War—one was too far to be effective, the other too close to be safe. Critically, Victor couldn’t move while using either of these transcendent combat skills.

There was no such thing as an invincible being in the Taelon World, but the Radiant God of War was certainly a power that broke the balance. The emergence of a Spirit Knight was random, but the line of succession for the Radiant God of War was gradually becoming clear.

Although Ron had perished, his holy power crystals remained, and they had fallen into the hands of the Radiant Knights. The battle priests of the Paladin families might not be able to withstand the full brunt of Ron’s holy power, but if they could hold on for even a short time, it would be enough to dominate the field, perhaps even forcing Sylvia to unseal the power of her Spirit Knight.

Since Victor had now witnessed the Radiant God of War, as a great lord of the secular world, he could not allow such a thing to happen. An invisible pressure prompted him to once again ponder Void Walk and the purely theoretical “Insight.”

An attack from the state of Void Walk would undoubtedly be at the Saint realm level. The problem was that Victor had to find a gap in the target’s elemental circulation; otherwise, if he charged in blindly, he would just be reabsorbed by the Elemental Sea of wind.

Yes, the Son of the Wind would truly be going home.

Aside from the holy power crystals of the Radiant God of War, Ron’s other precious legacy had been given to Caligula.

The Holy Light that Ron had transformed into was bright and stable, filled with a sense of eternal permanence. Tournans’s expression was solemn as he stared at the Holy Light, motionless as a statue. The three Gold Paladins and the other Sacred Warriors, however, could not contain their curiosity. After a word with the Pope, they headed towards the forest, from which the continuous screams of gnolls could be heard. Victor, followed by Narsen and the Alchemical Soldiers, went after them.

The forest was a scene of devastation. Broken trees were scattered everywhere, and the thick stench of blood hung in the air. Before long, Victor saw a tree trunk as thick as a man’s waist pinning a dying gnoll. Its back had been crushed, almost completely flattened. Its fur, muscle, and bone were all shattered, and some of its internal organs had been squeezed out. Its powerful physique kept it alive for the moment, its mouth full of blood as it struggled feebly on the ground.

The force of a single falling tree shouldn’t have been able to inflict such a grievous wound on a gnoll. The stump of the broken tree was forty meters away, and next to it lay the mangled corpse of another gnoll, which had been sliced in two at the chest by a sharp blade.

Evidently, Caligula had first cut down the gnoll hiding behind the tree before using the severed trunk to smash another one that was trying to flee.

In Victor’s eyes, this level of skill and power was merely average; any of his Alchemical Soldiers could do the same. But the focused and ruthless martial aura that emanated from Caligula’s sword style both startled and delighted Victor.

He was like a completely different person.

Further inside, they reached the gnolls’ lair, where the mutilated bodies of six more gnolls were strewn about in different locations. Testier circled the monstrous corpses, nodding in admiration. “Caligula first killed the two gnoll scouts outside, then cut into their camp from this direction. He took three steps and performed a single sweeping slash, killing six gnolls at once… His steps were light, his sword strike was calm, and it was all done in one smooth motion. Perfect, I’d say.”

“Cousin Victor, congratulations to House of Randell. You have a Gold-rank Ferocious warrior,” Testier said with a smile as he turned around.

A single nest of gnolls couldn’t test Caligula’s limits, but his mental state was clearly revealed through the traces of the battle. The two gnoll scouts Aka had killed first showed a cold precision, a hallmark of the fire of the mind. Afterward, he had charged into the gnoll camp and, in three steps, killed six with one swing. This must have been the work of the Touch of the Mind, which had created an illusion in the six gnoll hunters, leading to their instant annihilation.

Caligula had switched from the fire of the mind to the Touch of the mind in ten seconds at most. Although he had long since grasped the aTouch of the Mind, grasping and wielding it were two entirely different things.

The Touch of the Mind was an exceptionally powerful extraordinary ability. Whether Caligula’s Touch of the Mind could shake the will of a Gold Knight was yet to be seen. But at the very least, he now posed a very real threat to them.

This was a Gold-rank Ferocious warrior.

The seed of the Heroism Art that Ron had planted had caused Caligula’s mind to undergo a metamorphosis.

So, was Caligula still the Randall family’s big simpleton?

Victor surveyed the traces of battle around them and said faintly, “I hadn’t expected the Church to be so interested in Caligula, to the point of digging up his childhood experiences.”

Inquisitor-General Trigovar cleared his throat and explained, “Your Highness Randall, the Touch of the Mind is the core legacy of the Sacred Warriors. Although the Church has Sacred Warriors who have mastered it in every generation, their numbers are extremely limited, and powerful ones like Tournans and Ron are even rarer. The Sacred Warrior Monasteries of the Church have always striven to improve the method of passing down the Touch of the Mind. We are not at liberty to disclose the specifics, but we can tell Your Highness that the legacy of the Touch of the Mind is related to holy power.”

“Your Highness, you must admit that Caligula is a miracle. Back then, if His Eminence the Pope had not intervened to save him and grant him a new life… and with the political influence that came with it, you would not have taken a simpleton as a family retainer. Caligula not only gained a new life, but he also gradually mastered the Touch of the Mind. He is a rare exception. Neither His Eminence Clement nor the Tournans brothers can explain the reason, so of course the Church’s high-ranking Sacred Warrior masters are particularly interested in him.”

Victor asked with a deadpan expression, “So, Master Ron’s gift was actually a further test for Caligula?”

Testier threw up his hands and smiled. “Cousin Victor, I am just as perplexed and helpless about Master Ron’s actions as you are, and I deeply regret them. I’m afraid most of the clergy feel the same way.”

The surrounding Sacred Warriors all looked a little uncomfortable. Seeing Testier’s relaxed smile, Victor had a flash of understanding.

The holy power of the Radiant God of War was immense; even a Legendary Priest would likely find it difficult to bear its full force. Ron had stripped away a seventh-level Heroism Art and forced it on Caligula, leaving his own holy power crystals incomplete. This might actually be a good thing for the priests; by channeling their own Heroism Art into the Radiant God of War’s holy power crystals, they might be able to manifest the God of War’s might.

Still, why had Master Ron bestowed a seventh-level Heroism Art on Caligula? The Sacred Warriors present couldn’t say anything at the time, but they were now feeling rather indignant.

What’s done is done. No one could change it now.

Victor emphasized, “First, Caligula is my retainer, not a Sacred Warrior of the Church. Second, the Radiant Knights must uphold the rules, correct?”

Testier’s expression turned serious. “The Church will certainly monitor Caligula’s changes at all times, but we cannot share any of our findings. I hope you can understand, Cousin Victor. The religious inquisition will guarantee the rights of House of Randell. Any member of the clergy who attempts to win Caligula over will be questioned and strongly opposed by the Inquisition. If any clergy openly violates the New Covenant of Light and challenges the existing Order, he could even be imprisoned by the Inquisition.”

“Good. That is sufficient.”

Victor nodded, then turned in the direction Caligula had gone and called out, “Aka, come back.”

The wind carried his voice. A moment later, Caligula’s tall figure burst out of the forest. He was holding his spotless Adamantine beheading sword, his expression a mixture of nervousness and excitement. Upon seeing Victor, he stammered, “Ma… Master, Aka, Aka killed the gnolls… Lots, lots of them. Here… there, and there, Aka killed them all.”

Victor observed him carefully for a moment and, seeing nothing wrong for the time being, relaxed a little. “Well done. Let’s go.”

Caligula knelt on one knee, blinking, waiting for his master to pat him on the shoulder in praise. This was his usual way of seeking reward.

Narsen stepped forward, took back his own Adamantine beheading sword, and clapped Caligula on his broad shoulder, laughing loudly. “Good job! From now on, I won’t dare call Aka a coward anymore.”

Caligula’s face broke into his signature simple-minded, smug grin.

Aka was still the same old Aka.

The group left the forest and returned to their original spot. The Holy Light that Ron had become was still shining brightly. Clement, Tournans, and Dimat were staring at it, deep in contemplation. Only these three were level-six clergy. Testier was of high rank and authority, but the Gold Paladins were all level-four clergy. In terms of understanding and comprehending the Holy Light, Clement and the other two were mentors, while Testier and the rest could only be considered apprentices. Even if they prayed to this wisp of Holy Light for a year, they wouldn’t discover anything. Victor was even more of an outsider; he was a complete layman.

Seeing how focused Pope Clement was, it seemed they wouldn’t leave as long as Ron’s Holy Light did not fade. But Testier could wait no longer. A few Templars remained behind to look after the Pope, Tournans, and Dimat, while the rest continued on their journey.

When Caligula heard that Master Ron was gone, he burst into tears, wailing all the way. Snot and tears ran down his face; he was utterly heartbroken.

Ron had lived for over a hundred years, longer than a Silver Knight. If his life hadn’t been reaching its end, he wouldn’t have chosen such an extreme method to charge towards the supreme realm of a Sacred Warrior. As a powerful expert, he had chosen to challenge his limits at the peak of his life and strength. This was a great achievement in itself; no one else was qualified to feel sad for him.

Caligula’s mind was pure, and his heartfelt sorrow was highly infectious. The Sacred Warriors of the Inquisition, who had been somewhat displeased with the big simpleton, saw his state and offered a few words of genuine comfort.

Victor felt nothing about this. Right now, he was only worried about the hidden dangers within Aka himself.

Ron wouldn’t have planted a seventh-level Heroism Art in Caligula for no reason. The root of the problem probably lay with Father Miller.

That old man Miller’s divine art level was definitely higher than level seven. As a top-tier God-favored, he had managed to deceive even Sylvia at the beginning. It was entirely possible he was a ninth-level Spirit Priest.

If Miller had planted a seed of holy power in Caligula, then the moment Ron stepped into the Saint realm, he must have sensed the will of the Spirit Priest and, taking the opportunity, handed over the Radiant God of War’s Heroism Art—handed it over to Father Miller.

In other words, the two top-tier clergy had used Caligula as a vessel to conduct a secret exchange that transcended space and time.

Victor’s first thought was, would Caligula be sacrificed? Second, would Caligula become the Radiant God of War?

What does that old man Miller mean by arranging a Radiant God of War for me? To monitor me? To prevent an evil god from leaving a hidden flaw in my soul and pushing me to oppose the Lord of Radiance?

This was a problem that had always worried Victor, though he thought the possibility was low. He had once risked perishing to conduct a deep analysis of his own soul with Miller’s help, confirming the sanctity of the soul. It wasn’t something an evil god could alter at will.

He was a true Mind’s Dominator.

The logic was as follows: if an evil god could directly alter a person’s soul, the Lord of Radiance could just as easily erase it. Otherwise, the human kingdoms would have fallen into the hands of evil gods long ago. The reality was that faith in the Lord of Radiance was widespread in the human kingdoms, while evil gods and Devils were like rats in the gutter, hunted down by all.

The second possibility: Miller foresaw that I would face a terrifying opponent in the future and would need the power of the Radiant God of War to defeat it… or Him?

The thought left a heavy feeling in Victor’s chest. He secretly decided to go back and interrogate that old man Miller after the war.

Pope Clement’s attitude towards Father Miller was one of non-interference: don’t ask, don’t tell, and act as if you don’t know about the God-favored. The reason was simple: no one could do anything about Miller. It was like someone planning to assassinate a true prophet; the prophet would know about it before the thought even formed.

Victor understood the reasoning, but it was a feature of X-3 to spontaneously collect and store all kinds of information and to perform its own deduction and judgment. The moment Ron revealed the slightest clue, Victor had naturally analyzed the entire affair. Unless X-3 was gone, Victor couldn’t help but want to ask Miller for the truth.

The Randall Fief was thousands of kilometers away. This matter would have to be set aside for now.

It took Victor and his party three days to return to Giantstone Fortress.

The fortress garrison informed them that King Rex and Emperor Neo Wester had already marched out of the Gate of Death to attack the lairs of the various Centaur tribes. Victor also received a detailed battle report from the East Pioneer Fief war zone. The Heroic Battle launched by the human allied forces had been a resounding success, annihilating over forty thousand Centaur warriors. The remaining Centaurs had split into two large groups and were fleeing into the heartlands of the Westdon Khanate. Lacking food and supplies along the way, the various knightly orders led elite cavalry to employ Wolf Pack Tactics, constantly wiping out smaller bands of Centaurs.

The situation on the battlefield was excellent. It was estimated that the war would be winding down before the rainy and snowy season arrived. The remaining Centaurs would be forced to migrate east and compete for territory with the beastmen tribes of the Goblin Kingdom. From then on, the entire Westdon Khanate would be brought into the sphere of influence of the human kingdoms.

The battle report also mentioned that Princess Roland had personally slain a Centaur Khan, and His Highness Auguste had achieved outstanding merit.

Victor let out a wry smile. This was the Roland he knew.

Testier rested at Giantstone Fortress for a day before heading out to participate in the military operations to hunt down the Centaurs. Victor was now more concerned with matters in the direction of the Centaur Hills, especially intelligence on the Ant-man army. He remained at Giantstone Fortress to wait for a messenger raven from the Gambis Kingdom.

Caligula, with nothing to do, spent his days engrossed in his culinary arts, with none of the self-awareness befitting a Highness. Of course, while his combat power had reached the Gold rank, his wisdom was far from worthy of such a title.

Narsen trained his martial skills with increasing diligence, taking on the air of an ascetic monk. After much thought, Victor decided to have a serious talk with him.

In the study of a private villa, Victor sat leisurely on a leather sofa and asked Narsen, who sat opposite him, with a smile, “Is Caligula putting pressure on you?”

Narsen, clad in practice leather armor, rubbed the back of his head and smiled as well. “That guy… I don’t think I’ll dare to bully him anymore. It feels a little strange.”

Victor’s smile faded. After a moment of silence, he shook his head. “Aka’s encounter might not necessarily be a good thing.”

Narsen’s eyes narrowed. He asked hesitantly, “My lord, are you saying… Aka will become a Sacred Warrior and leave House of Randell?”

Commoners envied Sacred Warriors, but nobles knew that Sacred Warriors made the greatest sacrifices. With Caligula’s simple nature and honest personality, what good could come of him becoming a Sacred Warrior?

The more Narsen thought about it, the more worried he became. He shot to his feet and said in a low voice, “No, I have to go talk to Aka!”

“Sit down.” Victor waved his hand and said faintly, “I will make my own decision on this matter. I called you here to talk about you.”

Narsen sat back down and asked in surprise, “About me? My lord, what about me?”

“Narsen,” Victor said seriously, “in my entourage, I can find no one to replace you. You should know this is a fact, not an exaggeration on my part. After this war, I plan to invest you as a Baron, with an allotment of one hundred fifty thousand mu of land, hereditary in perpetuity.”

“What’s wrong… not as happy as you imagined?” Victor asked, raising an eyebrow before Narsen could pledge his loyalty.

Narsen scratched his head again. After a moment’s hesitation, he spoke frankly, “My lord, the title of Baron… I like it, but I always feel I’m unworthy of the title.”

Victor smiled. “It seems it’s not Aka who’s putting pressure on you, but me.”

“Narsen, have you ever thought about it? The Church’s legacy stretches back ten thousand years. How many people have they sacrificed for the Sacred Warriors to master the method of passing down the Touch of the Mind? Their legacy of the Touch of the Mind relies on holy power, and holy power comes from faith, which is also a form of the power of the mind in essence. That path is simply not suitable for ordinary Ferocious warriors.”

“Destiny always favors balance. The more extraordinary the power, the stronger the rebound from the Force of Destiny. You have already touched the edge of the Touch of the Mind, and the Force of Destiny has begun to prevent you from going further. The world’s fundamental will even wants to destroy you… starting from within your heart.” Victor pointed at Narsen’s chest, his eyes blazing. “Anxiety is the most dangerous trial you currently face. I dare to say that if you were to challenge a Gold-rank monster now, you would undoubtedly die.”

Narsen was startled. Calming down, he realized that his mental state had indeed been overly agitated recently. He took two deep breaths and said, “My lord, what you’re saying… I only half-understand. But I believe in my lord’s wisdom. Can you tell me what I should do?”

“To be honest, I’m not sure either…” Victor shook his head and continued, “But I am certain that you must first subdue the distracting thoughts in your mind and survive before you can talk about anything else. The Touch of the Mind isn’t so easy to master. You must forge a path different from that of the Sacred Warriors. It will surely be fraught with difficulties and dangers, and the slightest misstep will lead to the ordeal of being shattered to pieces.”

Victor paused, then smiled freely. “But that is precisely what makes the path of the strong so magnificent.”

Narsen’s eyes gradually lit up. He laughed heartily and said, “I feel like I understand something, yet I also understand nothing at all. I just feel that what my lord says is right.”

Victor nodded. “I once told you all that the traditional style of House of Randell is to walk on thin ice—watch your step, but advance bravely. Destiny is formless, the future is chaotic. We must exhaust all our will and wisdom to turn that chaotic future into the result we desire and master our own fate.”

He said pensively, “Regarding the Touch of the Mind, I believe we still need to start with the most fundamental laws of the mind. First, we must try to understand the knowledge within, then design corresponding training methods. We have Caligula now, so we can…”

As he was speaking, the sound of hurried footsteps came from outside the villa. A priest from the Giantstone Fortress Church was negotiating with the Alchemical Soldier guarding the door, demanding to see His Highness Randall. His voice was laced with anxiety and panic.

Victor frowned. He went downstairs with Narsen. As he reached the door, the priest cried out anxiously, “Your Highness, I have something important to report to you!”

“What happened?” Victor had a bad feeling. He pushed past the Alchemical Soldier and asked directly.

“Emperor Friedrich… and Grand Duke Friedrich, the two Highnesses have perished in battle!” The priest raised his sleeve to wipe the sweat from his brow and said frantically, “It was… it was the Centaur Great Khan! It routed the Blood Wolf Knights and is leading ten thousand Centaur warriors to counter-attack the East Pioneer Fief. They have probably already reached the Duncan Fortress defense zone!”

Victor activated X-3 to force himself to calm down. His eyes turned to ice as he said, “Prepare the Horned Wolf mounts… Please accompany us out of the Gate of Death. I need to understand the details of what happened. Explain it to me clearly, then you may return.”

Chapter 665: The Great Khan’s Desperate Counterattack

The priest from Giantstone Fortress had limited knowledge of the battle’s progression. He was merely following the Radiant Knights’ dispatches, requesting that His Highness Randell provide support to the assembly point established by Grand Commander Testier and providing a map.

The priest arranged for six of the finest Horned Wolves as mounts for Victor and his retinue, along with ample supplies of dried meat, flatbread, water, and raw sugar. As Caligula was too large, he could only travel on foot, while Narsen and the four Alchemical Soldiers rode the Horned Wolves.

In truth, Testier’s assembly point was not far from the Gate of Death, and Victor could have reached it faster by leading his retinue on foot. However, his target was not the assembly point in the heartland of the Westdon Khanate, but the distant Duncan Fortress on the eastern defensive line. The situation ahead was unclear, and Victor had to be prepared for battle. This meant he needed to conserve his retinue’s stamina as much as possible to handle the worst-case scenario.

Before dawn on the second day, Victor arrived at the assembly point.

It was a temporary camp of several thousand people, situated by a riverbend. Nearby were harvested wheat fields, the soil having been tilled. The chaotic layout of the fields and the crude farming techniques were clearly the work of Goblins, and the beast-hide tents within the camp were of Centaur design.

Everything indicated that this camp had originally belonged to a Centaur tribe.

Victor and his retinue dismounted. The Horned Wolves shook the dew from their manes and were led away by the camp guards to be fed. In the open space outside the camp gate lay piles of Centaur and Goblin corpses. A few Horned Wolves, Sword Mantises, and unicorn-horned lions were tearing and devouring the tenderest flesh from within the piles, and the air was thick with the stench of blood.

Most of the soldiers in the camp wore the fine armor of the Kingdom of Naville, while some wore leather armor painted with the eagle sigil of the Randt Empire. Their faces showed no joy from having wiped out this Centaur settlement. Everyone was silent, their expressions heavy, creating an oppressive atmosphere like the calm before a storm.

A guard led Victor along. Before he even reached the bonfire at the center of the camp, Testier and several Highnesses came out to greet him. Besides King Rex and the two Gold Knights of Naville, Victor also saw Neo Wester.

The two parties exchanged greetings and sat around the bonfire. As Victor listened to Testier’s account, he gradually came to understand what had transpired.

Half a month ago, the Centaurs from the Southern Camp had split into two forces and successfully broken out, moving toward the heartland of the Westdon Khanate. However, their crisis was just beginning. They were desperately short on supplies and could find no food along their route.

If the Westdon Khanate were divided into an eastern and western part, the once-mighty Blackhoof tribe had occupied the western territories. The other six Centaur tribes had also been vying for this same region. With the collapse of the Blackhoof tribe, the vast western expanse of the Westdon Khanate had become a true wilderness. There were no longer Goblin slaves to cultivate green wheat. The fields were barren and overgrown with weeds; the green wheat had turned wild, its yield negligible.

The Centaur army had attacked the East Pioneer Fief of the Sasan Empire and faced off against the human allied forces for over a year. Any edible green wheat and huntable prey in the western region had long since been exhausted. As they staged their full retreat, they first had to cross this foodless western zone.

Food supply is always the primary concern for any military operation, whether on the offensive or in retreat.

For example, a single adult spotted tiger requires a territory of eighty to one hundred square kilometers. If two spotted tigers appear in the same territory, they will inevitably fight to the death; otherwise, both will starve. Although Centaurs were omnivores, their appetites were much larger than humans. A few hundred Centaurs passing through a barren wilderness might find something to eat, but an army of tens of thousands could only eat dirt.

Therefore, large-scale mass operations were not the Centaurs’ strong suit. Their logistical capabilities were far too poor.

In truth, Centaurs were physically robust and could have reached the food-rich eastern territories even on an empty stomach. However, the Radiant Knights had long ago formulated a strategy to annihilate their main force, centered on the Centaurs’ food problem. Forcing the northern and southern camp Centaurs to merge was primarily intended to deplete the main Centaur force’s food reserves. The Heroic Battle was merely an appetizer before the meal; the true feast was the slaughter of Centaur warriors in the barren west.

Two hundred thousand elite cavalry, with three horses for every two men, carrying over ten days’ worth of beans, flatbread, raw sugar, and dried meat, tailed the two Centaur armies. Whenever they found an opportunity, they would devour any small Centaur groups that fell behind. If the Centaurs turned for a pitched battle, the cavalry would immediately scatter. This fluid tactic of gathering and dispersing was the most traditional form of Wolf Pack Tactics employed by vassal armies.

If the Centaur army tried to accelerate to shake their pursuers, they would only die faster from hunger. To preserve their combat stamina, the Centaurs’ marching speed dropped to a minimum. A journey that should have taken only ten days to cross the food-scarce western wilderness stretched to half a month, and they were still hundreds of kilometers from the eastern territories.

The Centaurs needed food and rest. The longer their march dragged on, the more perilous their situation became. Conversely, the allied forces of the East Pioneer Fief did their best to keep the main Centaur force entangled, buying time for the reinforcements from Giantstone Fortress to sweep through the eastern Centaur territories.

The human cavalry had brought supplies, and their warhorses could graze. But how much stamina could a Centaur regain from eating grass? The human legions were in a favorable position, while the Centaurs were trapped and desperate.

Unsurprisingly, their army fell apart.

The great Centaur army first fractured into tribes, which then fractured into smaller and smaller bands. They scattered, each searching for food on its own, with as many as could escape doing so.

It wasn’t easy for these Centaur bands to find food. Many, driven by unbearable hunger, set their sights on the humans. Annihilating a single human pursuit force would give them everything they needed. While some Centaurs actively sought battle, others could then slip away safely back to their lairs. Thus, when a Centaur band encountered a human pursuit force, they would charge with furious howls. The wild Centaur hunters would rather die in battle than starve to death.

This played right into the hands of the human legions. If the Centaurs had mounted a mass charge on the plains, no single human cavalry unit could have stopped them. But in bands of a few hundred or a few dozen, they were much easier to deal with. A War Beast Knight order with two auxiliary cavalry teams could easily annihilate several hundred Centaurs. If they encountered a Gold-rank Centaur Chiliarch, they would summon High-ranked Knights and high-ranking clergy to surround and kill it.

As the Centaur bands became increasingly scattered, the human legions also had to divide into more cavalry teams. The two sides hunted each other across the vast wilderness.

Based on the experience Victor had gleaned from movies, a war fought like this was called a messy war.

But for thousands of years, hadn’t this always been how human cavalry fought Centaurs?

Ordinary viscount lords could only support a few hundred vassal cavalry, who were trained from a young age specifically for such “messy wars.” The vassal soldiers’ coordinated combat and wilderness survival skills were beyond the imagination of an outsider like Victor.

However, no matter how experienced the vassal soldiers were in “messy wars,” there was an unavoidable flaw: they fought as individuals, command structures broke down, and it was impossible to find anyone.

This wasn’t a major problem, because the Centaurs were in the exact same situation. At least the human legions established several temporary assembly points in the rear where cavalry teams could return to rest, heal, get fresh horses, hand over war trophies, and consolidate battle reports. The Centaurs had nothing. They didn’t even dare to stop, for to stop meant to starve and be attacked.

Okay, so there was no rock bottom, just a deeper hole.

The risks in a messy war were random. How could you know what you were going to run into?

The turning point occurred six days ago. A Sasan cavalry team discovered a large group of Centaurs, numbering over three thousand. The outcome of the encounter was a foregone conclusion. The escaping cavalry passed the news to the Blood Wolf Knights. The Blood Wolf Knights knew from experience that they had hooked a big fish and prepared to summon High-ranked Knights and high-ranking clergy to encircle this Centaur force. However, the Blood Wolf Knights had already split into four groups, with the Sasan Emperor and the Grand Duke each leading one. The two Gold Knights of the Blood Wolf Family arrived one after another, but the other two Blood Wolf groups and their auxiliary cavalry had not yet reached them, and the other Knight orders were even farther away.

Friedrich led the Blood Wolf Knights, tailing this Centaur force. Just then, a single Centaur broke away from the group and charged the Blood Wolf Knights alone!

The Dire warriors of the Blood Wolf Family had already issued a warning to Emperor Friedrich, but where on a battlefield is there no danger?

This Centaur’s charge was incomparably fast, surpassing the capabilities of a Gold Knight of the Earth. It was impossible to either flee or pursue.

It charged straight for Emperor Friedrich, shrugging off the bolts from heavy crossbows. The accompanying High-ranked Priest cast a fifth-tier divine art on Friedrich—Sacred Protection. Friedrich temporarily gained Legendary-rank combat power. Just as he was preparing to meet the charge, the Centaur’s entire body turned a brilliant yellow. It was a Legendary-rank Centaur that had awakened the Armor of the Earth talent!

The Legendary Centaur suddenly changed its target, veering toward Grand Duke Friedrich in another contingent.

The High-ranked Priest reacted swiftly, forcibly casting another Sacred Protection on Grand Duke Friedrich. In the instant they collided, Grand Duke Friedrich’s Mithril beheading sword struck the Centaur’s body. The earth cracked, the soil turning to dust, and he himself took a heavy blow from the Centaur.

Grand Duke Friedrich perished.

The Legendary Centaur crushed its opponent, broke through the Blood Wolf Knights’ blockade, and attempted to kill the exhausted High-ranked Priest. Emperor Friedrich led his Blood Wolf Knights and surrounded it. During the ensuing struggle, the main Centaur force thundered in and joined the battle, among them a considerable number of Dire Centaur commanders and several Centaur Chiliarchs.

In the end, the numerically superior Centaurs were victorious. Emperor Friedrich perished, the High-ranked Priest perished, five Silver Knights perished, and half of the Blood Wolf Knights were almost completely wiped out. Only a handful of knights and a small number of cavalry managed to escape.

Subsequent intelligence revealed that the Legendary Centaur led its troop to rest on the spot. After dealing with the war trophies, the entire force turned and headed west, annihilating multiple cavalry teams along the way, rescuing and gathering other Centaur bands. Its power grew like a rolling snowball. According to the latest reports, the Centaur Great Khan had gathered over ten thousand Centaur warriors and entered the East Pioneer Fief. By now, they should have reached the Sasan Empire’s eastern defensive line, their forces at the gates of Duncan Fortress.

The cold, damp night wind pressed down on the bonfire, making it burn a dim, pale white. Testier exhaled a cloud of white mist and turned to Victor. “Your Highness, what is your assessment of the situation to come?”

Testier had already ordered a temporary halt to the military operation to sweep the Centaur lands, dispatched reconnaissance cavalry, and started to assemble the various cavalry teams. That alone spoke volumes.

It was now the first month of the Season of Water. Any unharvested green wheat would have rotted. The male warriors of the Centaur tribes lacked food supplies and were trapped by human cavalry in the barren western region.

They couldn’t win a fight, and they couldn’t escape. They were in a desperate situation.

The Centaur Great Khan’s force was the only one capable of defeating a Knight order in a small-scale brawl, but it seemed they could not reverse the tragic fate of the Centaur tribes.

The Westdon Khanate was vast, with a total area of nearly five million square kilometers, half of which was the western region. Over a hundred thousand Centaurs and two hundred thousand elite human cavalry were scattered across the expansive wilderness, hunting and killing each other. How many human cavalry teams could the Centaur Khan encounter? How many Centaur warriors could he save?

It was true they could sustain war with war, but the longer they spent searching for prey and the more Centaurs they gathered, the less food they would have, and the more difficult their situation would become.

The wisest choice for the Legendary Centaur would have been to ignore the other Centaur bands and lead its own forces directly to the east for food. But it chose to gather Centaur warriors and attack the core heartland of the Sasan Empire!

The small cavalry teams could not handle a Centaur mass charge, so the human legions had to assemble their forces. This would drastically reduce the pressure on the other Centaur bands, allowing most of them to escape to the eastern territories.

However, the Legendary Centaur’s force still faced a food shortage. Their only path to survival was to smash through the eastern defensive line and plunder the eastern heartlands of the Sasan Empire. But the eastern defensive line was a complete defensive system, with interconnected outposts, dense barracks, heavy weaponry, one hundred fifty thousand garrison militia, and eighty thousand mobile cavalry. It was absolutely impossible for over ten thousand Centaur warriors to penetrate the eastern defensive line safe and sound.

Victor could even imagine the disastrous outcome of them suffering heavy casualties as they stormed the barracks to plunder food. Even if a small number of Dire Centaurs managed to break through the eastern defensive line, their chances of escaping alive were minuscule.

The Legendary Centaur chose a desperate counterattack, seeking survival in the face of death, single-handedly shouldering the fate of the Sidon Centaurs. That was why it was the Centaur Great Khan.

Would the Grand Commander of the Radiant Knights grant its wish?

Testier’s order to assemble the cavalry was a necessary political gesture. As for whether he would let the scattered Centaur bands go and commit all his forces to rescuing the eastern defensive line, Victor was highly skeptical.

With both the Sasan Emperor and Grand Duke having perished, a monstrous storm was about to break within the Sasan Empire. If Testier chose to return with his army and call for aid, he would be too late, and it would not change the fact that the Baselius royal family would restore the Iron Mountain Empire. The Radiant Knights’ only path forward was to build a glorious victory upon a mountain of Centaur bones to stabilize the bigger picture that would follow. But who would dare bear the responsibility of sitting back and watching a Legendary Centaur rampage through the Sasan heartland, refusing to protect the populace?

The Gold-Eyed Earl’s attitude was crucial. Given his background, prestige, and the extraordinary merit he had earned in this war, if he refused to let this matter go, the Testier family would find itself in a very passive position.

Gambis’s main reinforcements, the next generation of core members being groomed by House of Randell, Victor’s only acknowledged lover, Young Lady Gillian Chapman, and His Highness Roland Auguste, with whom Victor had an ambiguous relationship, were all on the eastern defensive line. Would Victor be able to let this slide?

The Gold-Eyed Earl was not a High-ranked Knight. Like the Sword Saint Draven, he was emotional. This was part of their unique charm, but also a certain weakness. Testier had no idea how Victor would react.

Victor stared at the bonfire for a long time before turning his gaze to King Rex and asking with a smile, “Cousin, what would you do if you encountered the Legendary Centaur?”

Rex said proudly, “What martial skills do Centaurs have? I might not be able to hurt it, but it definitely couldn’t hit me. In the end, it would be a contest of endurance.” He paused, then chuckled. “As for that… I’d most likely lose that contest. Can’t outrun it either. I’m afraid I’d fall at its hands.”

Victor nodded and said, “High-ranked Knights are close to the origin of the world; they are truly extraordinary life forms. Although the Legendary Centaur’s racial talent is powerful, with the martial skills of Gold Knights, Emperor Friedrich and the Grand Duke together could have contended with it, or even forced it to retreat.”

“The problem is that the High-ranked Priest made a fatal mistake. How did he make it? The Centaur Great Khan made him make it. By charging the Blood Wolf Knights alone, it made the priest suspicious, prompting him to cast Sacred Protection on Emperor Friedrich just in case. Then it suddenly changed targets, avoiding the prepared Gold Knight to lock onto Grand Duke Friedrich, while revealing its Legendary racial talent. The priest, stunned, didn’t think and forcibly cast a second Sacred Protection on the Grand Duke.”

“Grand Duke Friedrich would have needed a moment to adjust to that sudden surge of power, but the Legendary Centaur was already upon him. He had no choice but to clash head-on, rather than using his transcendent martial skills to duel his opponent. He couldn’t overpower the Legendary Centaur. Grand Duke Friedrich perished, Emperor Friedrich lost his strong support, the High-ranked Priest was exhausted, and thousands of Centaurs launched an all-out assault. Emperor Friedrich was surrounded and killed by powerful Centaurs, and the Blood Wolf Knights met with annihilation.”

The expressions of the listeners grew even heavier. Everyone understood the logic, but hearing it from the mouth of His Highness Randell carried a strange, inexplicable weight.

Victor turned to Testier and asked, “Was that the Centaur Great Khan’s wisdom, or its psychic intuition?”

Testier shook his head. “That Centaur is the Chosen of the Earth Mother from the Whitetail tribe. The Whitetail tribe’s territory is in the far east of the Westdon Khanate; we’ve hardly ever fought them. It doesn’t understand Gold Knights or high-ranking clergy. This is definitely not wisdom. It’s the Touch of the Mind.”

A cold smile tugged at the corners of Victor’s mouth. He said lightly, “It’s a powerful opponent.”

The Gold-Eyed Earl spoke only of the Centaur Great Khan’s strength, never mentioning the progression of the situation. Testier gave King Rex a subtle glance. The outwardly boorish Rex understood immediately. He poked the bonfire and said, “Cousin Victor, I’ll be direct. The supply point for the Giantstone Fortress war zone is near the Gate of Death. I know exactly how much food and supplies are there. For us to gather provisions and assemble troops now, it would take at least two months to aid the eastern defensive line, which is thousands of kilometers away. By then, whatever was going to happen would have already happened. There would be no point in us going.”

“We still haven’t been able to contact the northern army led by Duke Baselius. I believe that once Duke Baselius receives the news, the Griffin Knights, the Iron Wall Knights, and the Swift Dragon Knights will immediately turn back to reinforce the eastern defensive line. They have seven Highnesses, and with Her Highness Auroxia and Her Highness Auguste, the eastern defensive line has enough strength to deal with the Centaur Great Khan.”

Victor said coldly, “It has the Touch of the Mind. It won’t be that easy to deal with. It can use its intuition to exploit the time difference, can’t it?”

Testier thought for a moment and said, “My opinion is that the Giantstone Fortress war zone should proceed as planned. As for the Radiant Knights, I have already given orders for Clark and another Gold Paladin to return and reinforce the eastern defensive line. The rest will continue to annihilate the Centaur bands. As long as Princess Roland Auguste holds Duncan Fortress, avoids a direct confrontation with the Centaur Great Khan, and only strikes the Centaur’s rearguard, there should be no problem. Even if the Great Khan leads a few of his Dire followers deep into the Empire’s heartland, they will not escape death. We can deal with it later.”

You have no idea how bold Roland is. She’s been eyeing this Centaur for a long time… Victor muttered to himself, feeling a headache coming on. His gaze fell upon the inconspicuous Neo Wester, and he questioned him, “Your Majesty, what did you do? And what are you preparing to do?”

Neo Wester looked up, meeting Victor’s dark gold eyes. “I was far from them when the two Highnesses of the Blood Wolf Family were annihilated. By the time I pursued, I could only watch the Centaurs leave. Those Centaurs were numerous and powerful. My Unicorn Knights went through the Three Provinces War and now number only over two hundred. I cannot afford the losses.”

The Randt Emperor’s way of speaking was as direct as ever, leaving Victor speechless.

He continued, “I can support the eastern defensive line alone and deal with the Centaur Great Khan. But I don’t trust Roland, and I cannot trust you. If you go, I will not. If you do not go, then I will… I believe you would prefer that I do not go.”

The atmosphere of the meeting instantly turned awkward.

“Your Majesty Neo Wester, your luck is truly terrible. You should seriously consider the counsel I gave you back then.”

Victor let out a long laugh. He rose from his small stool, hand on the hilt of his sword, and said lightly, “I am going to the eastern defensive line now to slaughter that Legendary Centaur. Also… isn’t there still a female ‘Chosen of the Earth Mother’?”

“Don’t touch her… I don’t want any more changes.”

With that, Victor and his retinue left the camp. As their figures gradually disappeared into the dark night, King Rex couldn’t help but ask, “When His Highness Randell said ‘Don’t touch that female Centaur’… what did he mean?”

Testier was silent for a long time before he sighed and said with a wry smile, “I only understand some of it… but you and I both lack the most direct experience.”

Neo Wester saw the Gold Knights all looking at him. He opened his mouth, but ended up saying nonsensically, “I can’t explain it to you… so I won’t. In short, don’t touch the female. It’s best to let her go.” In the end, he added honestly, “Anyway, I won’t touch her.”

They were being looked down on by Neo Wester… The Gold Knights were all speechless.

Chapter 666: To Prepare for a Rainy Day

Sasan Imperial Capital, Cacsins Cathedral.

“Five days ago, Empress Grace Klocher Frederick issued a decree summoning the princess, Freya Friedrich, back to Blood Wolfhold to preside over the situation. Princess Freya Friedrich refused Her Majesty’s summons on the grounds of the urgent war situation. To my knowledge, she is currently gathering Knights and her Personal Guard cavalry in her fief, preparing to lead them as reinforcements to Duncan Fortress.”

“The five Court Marquesses of Blood Wolfhold have adopted an ambiguous stance, and are generally split into three factions. Two Marquesses support the Empress’s opinion, demanding that Princess Freya return to the imperial capital and accept the title of Grand Duchess of the Empire. Two Marquesses remain neutral, proposing that the matter be temporarily shelved and that your opinion, my lord, must be sought before any decision is made. The family of Marquess Duses is Princess Freya’s maternal family, and they firmly support the princess. Marquess Duses has even moved to the princess’s fief to personally assist her.”

“Word from our sources indicates that the Duses family has been secretly sending people to lobby the neutral Marquess families, trying to win their support for Princess Freya. In addition, Empress Grace has invited two Duchesses from the central Empire and the Teuton Grand Duchess to jointly discuss the funeral arrangements for the late Emperor and Grand Duke. However, she has made no contact with the lords of the western Empire.”

A middle-aged priest, clad in the white robes of a bishop, respectfully reported the recent developments in the Sasan Imperial Capital to Patriarch Flidis.

Flidis’s expression was as resolute as ever, but a wave of weariness washed over him inwardly. The news that both Emperor Friedrich and the Grand Duke had perished was a source of great sorrow and regret for him. The fall of a Gold Knight was a major loss for the human kingdoms, but in the war against the beastmen, Gold Knights had an unshirkable duty, especially when the centaur tribes boasted dozens of Gold-rank Great Centaurs. Since the conflict began, nineteen Great Centaurs had already been hunted down and killed; Gold Knights and high-ranking clergy had to be prepared to make sacrifices.

However, the simultaneous fall of two Highnesses of the Sasan Imperial Family had thrown the Empire’s political situation into turmoil. Flidis had immediately finished arranging the thorny affairs of the eastern defensive line and returned to the imperial capital to stabilize the situation.

As expected, the internal conflicts of the Blood Wolf Family were now out in the open.

Princess Freya Friedrich’s mother, Tiffana Duses, had been Emperor Friedrich’s sworn female knight and also his most beloved lover. They were companions for life, until Tiffana perished in her attempt to break through to the Elemental Sea. When Friedrich was fifteen, Tiffana had advanced to Silver Knight ahead of schedule so she could protect the prince. Like all extraordinary female knights, Prince Friedrich could not resist the charm of a silver female knight and was utterly captivated by her. Tiffana was both a tutor and a wife to Friedrich, exerting the most profound influence on him. However, Emperor Friedrich could only marry a noblewoman from a Paladin family. Their love was doomed to be without official recognition, but the two had a daughter together, who was none other than the princess, Freya.

According to the imperial family’s rules, Freya should have belonged to the Duses family, but Friedrich doted on his daughter, keeping her in the imperial palace and raising her to the standards of a family heir. After Tiffana perished, Friedrich used all sorts of excuses to delay his own marriage until he advanced to Gold Knight. Only after he first invested his beloved daughter Freya as the princess of the imperial family did he finally marry Grace Klocher to be his Empress.

Protecting his daughter and defying fate might have been a cornerstone of Friedrich’s drive to reach the Elemental Sea. It was precisely because of this relationship that the ambitious Princess Freya was forged.

Influenced by her parents and her upbringing, Freya made no secret of her covetousness for the throne. Not long after Empress Grace gave birth to Crown Prince Zieg, Freya brazenly resonated with her thirty-third Elemental Node, becoming a high-rank Silver female Knight. It was worth noting that she was twelve years older than Empress Grace and had remained unmarried. Everyone believed that Freya’s conviction was to become the Empress Regnant of Sasan, and only by ascending the throne could she prepare to break through to the Gold rank.

Tapping his fingers on the oak tabletop, Patriarch Flidis lifted his grayish-green eyes to look at his student. After a moment of thought, he asked, “Emperor Friedrich has unfortunately perished. Empress Grace and Princess Freya must be heartbroken, are they not?”

The middle-aged priest’s voice was somewhat low, tinged with pity, as he answered, “To my knowledge, Empress Grace cried for an entire night. When Princess Freya heard the terrible news, she went alone to the top of the castle and gazed toward the east, not coming down until noon the next day.”

Patriarch Flidis nodded and sighed, “A wife losing her husband, a daughter losing her father—their grief is understandable.” His tone then shifted, turning cold. “But by the next day, they were still the Empress and the Princess of the Sasan Empire. What needed to be done was done, and the power that needed to be fought for was fought for. Dister, tell me, was their affection for Emperor Friedrich really so shallow?”

The middle-aged priest thought for a moment, took a step forward, and asked in a low voice, “My lord, what do you mean?”

“If Emperor Friedrich and the Grand Duke hadn’t perished, and the Centaur Great Khan gathered his tribal warriors for a direct thrust, with his spearhead aimed at the Sasan Empire’s Eastern Province. What do you think His Majesty Friedrich would have done?”

Without waiting for his student’s response, Flidis continued, “The Sasan Emperor would certainly want to summon the cavalry of the various families to reinforce the eastern defensive line. Even though he would know full well that the eastern defensive line is very stable, as the sovereign of the Sasan Empire, he would have to send reinforcements. This would be exactly what the Centaur Great Khan wants, but it would conflict with our Church’s strategy.”

“Even if over ten thousand centaurs without supplies could break through the eastern defensive line, less than one in ten would survive. A thousand centaurs would pose a very limited threat to the Sasan Empire’s heartland. However, the Empire is made up of families large and small, and not a single one can stand against a Legendary centaur. They would appeal to Blood Wolfhold for aid; could His Majesty the Emperor sit by and do nothing? If the Sasan Imperial Family did not adopt the strongest possible Posture, the legitimacy of Blood Wolfhold would be widely questioned by the Sasan lords, and the Empire would be at risk of collapse. But if the Sasan Emperor mobilized a great army to reinforce the eastern defensive line, allowing a large number of centaurs to escape to the eastern region of the Westdon Khanate, then all our Church’s efforts and sacrifices would be for naught.”

“This is the conflict between the Church and the Sasan lords.”

“Our conflict is long-standing!”

The old Patriarch swung his arm forcefully and rose from his chair. He paced back and forth in the room before stopping and saying in a heavy voice, “Princess Freya Friedrich is the very embodiment of the conflict between these two sides.”

Seeing the cold glint in Flidis’s eyes, and knowing his tutor’s ways, Priest Dister was horrified. He couldn’t help but say, “Tutor, are you saying the five Court Marquesses of Blood Wolfhold… and the Five Great Families of the east they represent, all support Princess Freya’s succession to the throne? But that’s against the rules! They… they are all…”

“Including the Friedrich Imperial Family, they are all blood descendants of the six great Paladin families.”

Flidis interjected with a cold sneer, “It has been seven hundred years. They have forgotten their ancestors’ glory and forsaken their oath to protect the human kingdoms. With the completion of the eastern defensive line, the six great families of eastern Sasan are no longer willing to obey the commands of the Radiant Knights, to say nothing of the lords in the central and western parts of Sasan.”

“Dister, you have read the entire seven-hundred-year war epic of the Radiant Knights. Do you understand the changes within the Westdon Centaur Khanate?” Flidis asked, returning to his seat with a calmer expression.

Dister thought for a moment and ventured, “The Sidon Centaurs once had dozens of tribes, large and small. For centuries, the secular lords of the Sasan Empire fought alongside the Radiant Knights, continuously striking at the centaurs. Due to the pressure exerted by the human kingdoms, the Black-hoof Centaur tribe gradually rose to prominence, ruling over half of the Westdon Khanate. And the centaurs in the eastern region of the Westdon Khanate, under pressure from the Blackhoof tribe, gradually merged into six tribes.”

Flidis nodded. “Pressure forced the scattered and undisciplined centaur tribes to coalesce into several large ones, and pressure also changed the lords of the Sasan Empire. The tragedy is, the less pressure they are under, the more dissatisfied they become with the Radiant Knights and the Church.”

The Radiant Knights had vigorously supported the Sasan Empire, especially the families of the eastern lords, so that the armies of the secular lords could serve as auxiliary soldiers for the Radiant Knights and the Temple Army in their joint struggle against the centaurs of the Northern Wildlands. For hundreds of years, the Sasan lords had never known a year without war. They played a vital role, alleviating the pressure on the Radiant Knights and reducing the casualties of the Temple Army. The strategy originally formulated by the Radiant Knights was remarkably effective, but it was also a fact that the Sasan lords, especially those in the east, lost men every single year.

The grief of the families of the fallen would be reflected back onto the lords. Yet, every time the Radiant Knights went on a campaign, they would conscript the lords’ Vassal soldiers and command them in battle. In the eyes of the lords, their Knights and Vassal soldiers were being used as sacrifices for the Radiant Knights and the Temple Army. But the Paladins and Sacred Warriors believed that the eastern lords’ families owed their strength entirely to the Church’s support, and it was only right for their soldiers to act as bait or a rear guard.

The dissatisfaction of the Sasan eastern lords accumulated over time, and the conflict between the two sides gradually intensified.

Patriarch Flidis knew very well that this wasn’t really about betraying ancestors or being ungrateful. It was simply that as the eastern Sasan families grew stronger, they naturally began to vie for a greater say, unwilling to continue to be docile and obedient before the Radiant Knights. If they were weak and dirt poor, how would they dare to bargain with the Church?

Even in a family, a son raised by his father’s own hand would dare to slam the table and argue with him, though he was very obedient as a child. If it is so for a small family, how much more so for the powerful great lords of the Sasan Empire?

Priest Dister asked doubtfully, “Tutor, do the Five Great Families truly dare to break the rules and support Princess Freya’s ascension? Without the Church’s investiture, how can the princess legally wear the crown?”

“It’s merely a test, a statement of their position.” Flidis scoffed. “These old foxes are hedging their bets, having reached a tacit understanding. Even if Zieg ascends the throne and Freya becomes the Grand Duchess of Blood Wolfhold, they will throw their full support behind Freya, sidelining Zieg and the future Sasan Empress to confront the Church.”

“What should we do?” Dister asked humbly, bowing his head.

Flidis was silent for a long time before he said faintly, “Emperor Friedrich had a paternal half-sister. She entered one of our Monasteries at a young age and became a priestess in service to the Supreme Lord. She later wed Lord Nachtigal and gave birth to a daughter. That child’s name is Elizabeth Frederick. She has always been raised by the Testier family. Her adoptive father is Grand Commander Testier.”

“Elizabeth is thirty-four this year and is a female knight. Her mother, having borne the descendant of a legendary paladin, has already returned to the Lord’s embrace. However, Elizabeth obtained the right of succession to the Sasan throne from her mother. She is seventeenth in line. The document of succession was personally signed by the previous Emperor of the Sasan Empire and registered by the Church, making it legal and valid.”

A tidal wave crashed through Dister’s mind. Elizabeth possessed the ancient bloodlines of both Testier and Nachtigal. Although her maternal line was weaker than her paternal one, no one could deny that she was a member of the Sasan Empire’s royal family, possessed a legal right to the throne, and would most likely advance to Gold Knight without a hitch. Her adoptive father was Grand Commander Testier, which meant her maternal grandmother must have been a noblewoman of the Testier house, who returned to the Theocracy of Ayr after conceiving the previous Sasan Emperor’s child and gave birth to the Emperor’s illegitimate daughter. And only the Church could have forged a personal writ from the previous Sasan Emperor to grant an illegitimate daughter a legal right of succession. Judging by the timeline, the Radiant Knights had begun laying the groundwork as early as eighty years ago, using unimaginable resources in exchange for the noble bloodline of Lord Nachtigal.

Eighty years ago, Flidis was still a student of the previous Patriarch. His intention to use this pawn, Elizabeth, today… was he planning to… replace the Sasan Emperor?

Why would Tutor Flidis tell me something so secret, so momentous?

A flash of insight sparked in Priest Dister’s mind. An irrepressible excitement and euphoria made his hands tremble slightly as he heard Patriarch Flidis speak:

“Dister, I want you to go to the Theocracy of Ayr and secretly bring Princess Elizabeth Frederick here.”

Priest Dister crossed his hands over his chest and bowed deeply, saying solemnly, “As you wish, Lord Flidis.”

Chapter 667: Roland, Roland

“Actually, Princess Elizabeth is not a descendant of the Friedrich Imperial Family. Back then, Elizabeth’s maternal grandmother did indeed have a brief, intimate relationship with the previous Sasan Emperor, but he did not get her pregnant. That is of no consequence. The partner relationship between Elizabeth’s grandmother and the Sasan Emperor is well-documented. Since the Church recognizes Elizabeth as a member of the Sasan Imperial Family, she is a princess of the Sasan Empire.

“Most importantly, Elizabeth possesses the Gold Bloodline of Nachtigal.

“The Sasan Imperial Family and the five great lord families of the east have grown bolder, beginning to clash with the Radiant Knights. This is but a minor issue. The Baselius family’s Gold Bloodline is the true major hidden danger, the one that could cause the Empire to fracture and lose its balance.

“As early as a hundred years ago, Testier’s father and Flidis’s tutor clearly realized that as the Sasan Empire’s territory continued to expand, its division would be inevitable once it annexed the vast lands of the Westdon Khanate. The Iron Mountain Empire would surely rise from the ashes.

“The core interest of the Radiant Knights and the Church is the ability to mobilize and command the armies of the secular lords. As long as the Sasan and Baselius royal families were willing to cooperate with the Radiant Knights, handing over more than half of their military strength to assist the Temple Army in striking the beastmen tribes and reclaiming the former lands of humanity, the Church would permit the Baselius family to restore the Iron Mountain Empire. The six great Paladin families had even already negotiated the borders of the two great empires: the Iron Mountain Empire to the north and the Sasan Empire to the south. The two sides would be joined by a marriage alliance, advancing side-by-side to expand eastward into the wildlands.

“But who could have imagined that the bloodline of the Spirit Knights would endure for three thousand years without fading? The bloodline imbalance between the Iron Mountain Empire and the Sasan Empire would lead to an imbalance of power. Noble scions and the general population of the Sasan Empire would flow into the Iron Mountain Empire. In the long run, the Radiant Knights would not only be drawn into the political vortex of the two empires but might also face a powerful backlash from within the Church itself.

“If the Paladin families were to roll up their sleeves and personally enter the fray, helping the Sasan lords resist the lords of the Iron Mountain, it would naturally cause dissatisfaction within the Iron Mountain Empire. This is not the era of papal rule. The Knight-Noble class now controls the Holy See, and even the once-closed Theocracy of Ayr has begun to absorb noble elites. The Church’s pool of talent is endless, and its internal relationships have become a tangled web. If the lords of the Iron Mountain Empire gave their full support to the missionary work of a certain faction of priests, there would always be high-ranking clergy to speak on their behalf.

“The lesson of the Holy City Uprising more than three hundred years ago taught the Radiant Knights a profound truth: only by maintaining a neutral position and manipulating the situation from on high could they avoid getting burned.

“Moreover, with the conflict between the eastern lord families of the Sasan Empire and the Paladins growing more pronounced, the previous Patriarch and Testier’s father, after careful study, came to a conclusion: the root of the problem was that the Radiant Knights had grown too close to the six great families of the eastern Sasan. Those families mistakenly believed that the Radiant Knights could not manage without their support.

“Thus, the previous Patriarch chose his most hardline student, Flidis, to inherit the position of Patriarch, and instructed him to suppress the arrogant eastern lord families and ease the tensions between the Baselius family and the Radiant Knights. In reality, this was a crucial adjustment, a shift by the Radiant Knights toward neutrality.

“Only in this way could the Radiant Knights control the situation in the competition between Baselius and Friedrich, and freely mobilize the military power of the entire northern lordships.

“It was precisely because the Radiant Knights intended to extricate themselves from the whirlpool of the Sasan Empire’s secular politics, and in consideration of the bloodline gap between the Friedrich Imperial Family and the Baselius family, that they decided to secretly activate an important legacy of the first Pope Inoc—the bloodline of the Nachtigal Paladin family.

“Among all the Paladin families, the Nachtigal family’s Mark of Light was the most unique. Their knight’s bloodline was stronger than that of the six great Paladin families; almost every generation produced a Legendary Knight. If the other Paladin families were separated from the Mark of Light, their bloodlines would be considered merely top-tier Silver Bloodlines, whereas the Nachtigal bloodline was a Gold Bloodline. However, the ancient Gold Bloodline of a Paladin family was more prone to weakening than a normal Gold Bloodline. But that was of no concern. As long as the Nachtigal family line continued, the Church would always have an ancient Gold Bloodline at its disposal.

“So what if the secularized Nachtigal bloodline weakened? The Paladin Nachtigal could simply support another Gold Bloodline family, just as the other six great Paladin families supported the Silver Bloodline families of the Sasan lords.

“Nachtigal and the Paladin families controlled the secular world through bloodlines, and the Pope controlled the Church through the distribution rights of the Pool of Holy Power. This was the scheme of the first Pope and the Nachtigal ancestor, and it was their important legacy.

“The Radiant Knights overthrew the papal line and took control of the first Pope’s entire legacy. After decades of laying the groundwork and paying a heavy price, two generations of the Radiant Knights finally obtained the Gold Bloodline from the legendary paladin Nachtigal—Princess Elizabeth Friedrich.

“Flidis had no desire to place Elizabeth on the throne of the Sasan Empire. For one thing, Elizabeth’s personality was a headache; she was more of a Paladin than the Paladins themselves, making her ill-suited to be an emperor. For another, for a Patriarch to blatantly interfere in the Sasan Empire’s line of succession would be a major taboo. The secular lords of all the human kingdoms would unite in a powerful backlash. To quell the public outrage, Patriarch Flidis would have to be prepared to step down.

“According to the plan devised by the previous Patriarch, the Radiant Knights could, when necessary, establish Elizabeth’s descendant as a Duke of the Sasan Empire—a Sasan Duke with a claim to the throne.

“This was the most prudent approach. It would balance the power between the two great factions of lords, serve as a warning to the Friedrich Imperial Family, and attract a large number of families eager for a noble bloodline, including but not limited to the northern lords. With the Radiant Knights proceeding with such tact, the Spire Faction, which had always been a thorn in their side, would collapse without a fight.

“As long as either Emperor Friedrich or the Grand Duke was alive, Flidis was unwilling to play his card with Elizabeth.

“The fact that the throne of the Sasan Empire was currently vacant was a minor matter; the spearhead of the Centaur Great Khan’s army pointing directly at the eastern defensive line was the most urgent crisis. With both Highnesses from Blood Wolfhold having perished, Duke Baselius, who was in command of the northern army, had to rush back to provide reinforcements. The majority of the army he commanded consisted of cavalry from the central lords. Now, with monsters about to reach their homes, how could the soldiers have any heart to pursue bands of Centaurs? Baselius had to gather a portion of his elite forces to reinforce the eastern defensive line and intercept the Centaur Great Khan, allowing the remaining Knights and vassal cavalry to continue the fight. By the same logic, the cavalry of the southern army all came from the eastern lord families, whose lands bordered the eastern defensive line. If the Centaurs broke through the line, their homes would be the first to suffer.

“A few months ago, Her Majesty the Empress had called upon the Sasan lords to organize their subjects to farm the land once more. While the soldiers were out fighting, their parents, wives, and children were at home tending the fields, completely unprepared for sudden danger. No one knew on whom misfortune would fall, and the soldiers of the southern army were burning with anxiety.

“Baselius transferred command of the northern army to the Moon Bear Knights of the Teutonic Duchy, while he led the Griffin Knights and a portion of the central lords’ knights back to reinforce the eastern defensive line. This would allow many of the Centaurs in the north to escape, but if Baselius did not return to the eastern defensive line, the cavalry of both the southern and northern armies would have no will to fight.

“Grand Commander Testier weighed the pros and cons and tacitly permitted Duke Baselius to withdraw from the battle, while he himself organized reinforcements from Giantstone Fortress to intercept the Centaur warriors in the north as best he could.

“An opportunity for all the kingdoms to unite and send troops to the Northern Wildlands was rare. Only by inflicting massive casualties on the male warriors of the Centaur tribes and occupying the rich, vast lands of the Westdon Khanate to produce more food would the populations of the kingdoms experience explosive growth. It would be the most solid step forward in the pioneer war of the human kingdoms.

“The people of the Sasan Empire could not see that far ahead. They only knew that the Griffin Knights had heroically turned the tide, and that they had the will of the people and were the hope of the masses. Duke Baselius was, in effect, exercising the duties of the Emperor.

“Empress Grace demanded that Freya be made Grand Duke of the Empire but said not a word about Crown Prince Zieg. She wanted to both extinguish Freya’s unrealistic ambitions and have Grand Duke Freya bear the pressure from the Baselius family. But neither Freya nor Siegfried was a match for Duke Baselius. Grace’s petty scheme only revealed that Blood Wolfhold was at its wit’s end.

“The Radiant Knights had hoped for the revival of the Iron Mountain Empire to occur fifty years from now. Wusaen and Auroxia had a tacit understanding on this matter; the Baselius family still needed to borrow the strength of the Radiant Knights to expand the Empire’s territory. But with things having developed to this point, it would be difficult for the two Highnesses of the Baselius family to suppress the calls from other families any longer.

“Flidis had no choice but to push Elizabeth onto the throne of the Sasan Empire to prevent the northern lords from splitting off prematurely.

“An Empress Regnant Elizabeth would have a weak foundation. The old Patriarch, having been a hardliner his entire life, was not afraid of offending more people. He would have to make an example of a few shortsighted nobles to secure the new empress’s throne. Afterward, the Church would need a new Patriarch to heal the scars left by the struggle for imperial power among the Sasan lords.

“Among his students, Dister had the most gentle temperament. Flidis had once looked down on him, but now he had to choose him as the successor for the next Patriarch.

“Patriarch Flidis didn’t mind giving his student a few more words of guidance. He spoke gently, “Dister, in your capacity as acting bishop, order the core members of the eastern lord families to garrison the three major fortresses of the eastern defensive line.” He paused, then continued to explain, “In the past few months, the eastern defensive line has been expanded with more than a dozen new barracks, increasing its defensive depth to one hundred and thirty kilometers. The army led by the Centaur Great Khan lacks supplies and has been fighting all along the way. They number less than twenty thousand and are exhausted. To seize food and supplies, they can only assault the new barracks along the defensive line. I have already ordered the commanders of the three major fortresses to hold their original defensive lines and preserve their effective strength. Once the Centaurs capture the forward barracks and obtain supplies, they will most likely retreat. Even if they continue westward, their casualties will be heavy. Therefore, the fortresses of the eastern defensive line are, paradoxically, the safest places to be.”

Dister thought for a moment, then asked worriedly, “Tutor, if the Centaur Great Khan breaks through the eastern defensive line and enters the eastern territories of the Empire, what will happen to the people farming the green wheat? Should we organize an evacuation of the people in the east?”

Flidis shook his head, his gaze profound. “There are still many Goblins and Kobolds in the eastern territories that need to be cleared out. They are a greater menace than two or three thousand Centaur bandits. Besides, organizing a migration of a million people during the Season of Water would result in more casualties than those killed by monsters.”

“You need not concern yourselves with this matter. I will bear all responsibility.”

The Patriarch was preparing to use the million subjects in the east of the Empire as his eyes, ears, and bait to pin down and hinder the Centaur Great Khan’s movements.

Dister lowered his head, not daring to say another word, but in his heart, he hoped the Centaur Great Khan would seize the supplies and flee eastward.

Flidis stood up and paced to the window, gazing out at the bustling streets of the Sasan imperial capital. With his hands behind his back, he said, “His Majesty Neo Wester has a blood feud with Princess Roland Auguste; he will not be coming. But His Highness Randall will certainly arrive in short order. In addition, I have already sent a message to the Holy See, requesting His Majesty Nachtigal to come to the Sasan Empire to encircle and kill the Legendary-rank Great Centaur. I believe His Majesty Nachtigal can reach the eastern defensive line from the Theocracy of Ayr within ten days…”

As he spoke, the sound of hurried footsteps came from the corridor outside. A Sacred Warrior informed the guard at the door that there was an urgent military report from the eastern defensive line. Flidis signaled his student to open the door and returned to his seat behind the desk.

The Sacred Warrior rushed into the room without even saluting and said frantically, “My lord, this is terrible! The Gambis are fighting the Centaurs!”

“What!?”

With a loud scrape, the old Patriarch shoved the heavy oak desk aside with one palm, strode two steps to the Sacred Warrior, and snatched the letter from his hand, scanning it quickly.

The intelligence from the messenger raven was brief. It stated that Her Highness Auguste and the princess Freya Friedrich had, at dusk the previous day, led twenty-four thousand cavalry into a fierce battle with the Centaurs at the Little Calf Village Barracks. The garrison of the Duncan Fortress defensive sector had left their posts one after another, heading to Little Calf Village to support the princess Freya.

“Is Roland insane!” Patriarch Flidis roared in fury. “I ordered her to hold her defensive sector! How does a mere Gold Knight dare to launch a surprise attack on the Centaur Great Khan’s army?!”

“And Freya, putting herself in danger like that, coercing the garrison into battle! Korokar is a useless fool, too! As the high-ranking battle priest of Duncan Fortress, didn’t he know to stop those two blasted princesses?”

Seeing his tutor’s rage, Bishop Dister stood silently to the side, stiff as a statue, not daring to breathe.

Flidis paced back and forth a few times, then stopped and said to Dister, “Prepare the Horned Wolf mounts. I’m returning to Duncan Fortress immediately. You, go to Blood Wolfhold at once. Seek an audience with Her Majesty, Empress Grace. Tell her to immediately mobilize the Royal Capital’s garrison cavalry and hurry to the Duncan Fortress defensive sector. We must enter… before the Centaurs break through the eastern defensive line.”

At this point, the old Patriarch suddenly stopped. His expression was uncertain. After a moment of thought, he turned back, picked up the calfskin map that had fallen to the floor, and carefully examined the latest troop dispositions on the eastern defensive line.

After a while, Dister approached and asked cautiously, “My lord, shall I go to the royal palace now and inform Her Majesty Grace?”

Flidis shook his head and ordered, “Tidy this place up. We will wait for the next battle report.”

Dister and three Sacred Warriors worked together to put the desk, chairs, and other items back in their places. Patriarch Flidis motioned for the Sacred Warriors to open the door, then had Dister sit on a nearby sofa.

Within the time it took for a large hourglass to empty, news began to pour in from outside.

“My lord, Crown Prince Siegfried has just assembled the royal knights and left the imperial capital with eight thousand Guard Cavalry.”

“My lord, Her Majesty Grace requests an audience.”

Flidis looked up and said slowly, “Tell Her Majesty there is no need to see me. The six hundred Sacred Warriors and battle priests of the cathedral are at her disposal.”

The priest on duty paused for a second, then bowed and departed.

Bishop Dister felt a little uneasy. He asked in a low voice, “Tutor, the cathedral’s Sacred Warriors are your personal guard.”

A gleam flickered in Flidis’s eyes as he murmured, “Perhaps… His Highness Zieg won’t need them at all.”

Dister sat in the room for half an hour, his anxiety growing more and more palpable, when another battle report came in.

“My lord, Her Highness Auroxia Baselius has joined the battle at the Little Calf Barracks with twenty-seven thousand cavalry!”

The reports came one after another.

“Duke Baselius and the Griffin Knights have arrived at the Little Calf Village Barracks and immediately joined the battle.”

“His Majesty King Friedrich, leading the Iron Wall Knights and twenty-eight thousand Dodor cavalry, has appeared south of the Little Calf Village Barracks, preparing to enter the battle!”

The atmosphere in the room grew increasingly relaxed. Another hour passed before the priest on duty hurried in, his joy written all over his face as he exclaimed, “Patriarch, a great victory at the Battle of the Little Calf Village Barracks! The cavalry of the eastern defensive line annihilated over seventeen thousand Centaurs.”

Bishop Dister leaped from the sofa and demanded, “What about the Centaur Great Khan?”

“The Centaur Great Khan broke through the encirclement with a few hundred surviving Centaurs and is fleeing south. The Griffin Knights, Swift Dragon Knights, and Iron Wall Knights have already given chase.”

Patriarch Flidis asked in a deep voice, “How many Highnesses are part of the pursuit?”

“Four from the Griffin Knights, two from the Iron Wall Knights, plus Her Highness Roland Auguste, for a total of seven Highnesses. Four high-ranking battle priests are accompanying them.”

Dister couldn’t help but smile. “Good, good. Only a few hundred Centaurs escaped. That’s not a major problem.”

Flidis stood up, let out a long sigh, and whispered to himself:

“Roland, Roland…”

Chapter 668: The War Goddess

When Victor arrived at the Little Calf Village Barracks, soldiers from the eastern defensive line were cleaning up the battlefield.

Gillian, with her sharp eyes, was the first to spot her lover. Pushing aside an attendant busy recording war trophies, she ran over from a distance. With a cheer, right in front of her entourage, she threw herself at Victor, her long, springy legs wrapping around his waist. She planted a quick kiss on his lips before letting go with a giggle.

“Did you miss me? Did you bring me a gift?”

The Young Lady of House Chapman extended a delicate hand toward Victor, her face flushed and her phoenix eyes filled with an amorous affection that, while lacking her usual icy glamour, was all the more enchanting.

She was clad in a dark red set of women’s hide armor. Its design was elegant and the craftsmanship exquisite, outlining the curves of her tall, stunning figure. This was a gift specially prepared for Gillian by the Sasan Imperial Family—a full suit of women’s hide armor tanned from the hide of a Gold-rank Centaur.

The hide of a Gold-rank Centaur was a wondrous item with an affinity for the earth element. Its efficiency with the void earth element and its defensive capabilities in combat surpassed even Mithril armor, making it especially suitable for an Earth Knight. Gillian usually treated this suit of hide armor as an absolute treasure, so much so that she kept it stored in a large iron chest and couldn’t bear to wear it.

Although the Gold-rank Centaur hide armor was excellent, it also drew the particular hatred of Centaurs. However, when fighting an entire Centaur army, attracting their enmity hardly mattered anymore.

Victor took Gillian’s soft, delicate hand and carefully looked her over from head to toe. Confirming she was uninjured, he breathed a sigh of relief and said with a smile, “The one I was most worried about was you, an Earth Knight who isn’t yet an Earth Knight.”

Gillian’s heart filled with sweetness, but she stubbornly pressed on, “Where’s my gift?”

“I came in a hurry. I’ll make it up to you next time, I promise.” Victor shook his head with a chuckle, then his gaze fell upon the dilapidated Little Calf Village Barracks. He frowned and asked, “What happened here? Why would the main reinforcements from our Gambis have a pitched battle with Centaurs here?”

“We just fought a battle.”

“Mm, that’s obvious.”

“We won.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“We got lots and lots of war trophies! We get half of all the Centaur hides!” Gillian said, her eyes sparkling.

“Yes, I see that…”

Victor’s gaze swept over the battlefield, gathering a great deal of information. Of course, anyone who wasn’t blind could see what had happened here.

“Princess Freya Friedrich promised our Gambis reinforcements a hefty grant.”

“That’s something I truly didn’t know… My dearest Darling, I’m as happy for you as you are… Never mind, I’ll find someone else to ask. You can continue taking stock of the war trophies… We’ll see each other in a bit.”

Seeing Earl Terlanden of the Centaur Hills and several high-ranked knights from Gambis approaching, Victor kissed Gillian on the cheek and gestured for the high-ranked knights to find another place to talk.

The clergy and Sasan knights had already noticed the commotion over here. His Highness Randell was waiting where he stood for the Great Knight of Gambis, so they did not wish to intrude and went about their own business.

Victor led the high-ranked knights from Gambis to a secluded spot. After motioning for his retinue to disperse, he asked with a grave expression, “Two excellencies are missing… Viscount Jiris York and Earl Folt Auguste.”

The atmosphere instantly grew somber. Earl Terlanden York said grimly, “Jiris and Lord Folt unfortunately perished at the hands of the Centaur Great Khan.”

Jiris and Folt were Silver Knights from Gambis’s older generation, both over one hundred years old. They had been stuck at the peak of the Silver rank for a considerable time. Before the Gambis reinforcements headed north, Sylvia and Marquess Golan had predicted that these two Earth Knights would be the most likely to fight to the death without retreating, and thus the most likely to perish.

The Gambis royal family and the Queen’s family had each lost a Silver Knight. Victor’s heart was filled with mixed emotions, but for Great Knights, dying of natural causes was a dishonor. It was their tradition to return to the Elemental Sea by dying in battle.

He composed himself and asked, “What about our princess and the ladies from the great families?”

Viscount Eriks, Victor’s former neighbor, answered, “The Centaur Great Khan broke through the encirclement with a few Dire Centaurs and fled south. That way is the Warton Great Plains. Dodor’s Iron Wall Knights are in hot pursuit, and King Friedrich requested that we and the Sassans assist in the chase. Her Highness the Princess Royal felt we were all too slow, so she and three other ladies led the Swift Dragon Knights and went after them.”

Hearing that Roland was currently safe, Victor relaxed slightly. He then asked, “Were our losses in this battle heavy?”

“Of Gambis’s more than twenty thousand elites, 1,289 died in battle, over seven hundred were seriously wounded, and more than five thousand suffered light injuries,” Earl Terlanden said with a pained expression. “Two Great Knights perished, eleven full knights were sacrificed, and forty-two apprentice knights were killed in action. Your Highness, your little attendant knight, Salu, also met an unfortunate end. The rest of us were mostly wounded, but nothing serious.”

Salu was a noble scion from the Eastern Alliance whom Silver Moon Manor had taken in through an inducement fee. He was one of the few naturally awakened apprentice knights. With the Knight path secret art of the mind that Victor had designed and the Gold Potion, he had a high chance of advancing to a senior knight, or even reaching the Silver rank.

Victor felt regret and sorrow over young Salu’s death, but flowers grown in a greenhouse were destined to be fragile and unfit for great purpose. Only those who had truly experienced war could become pillars of the House of Randell. Thankfully, Charlotte and the other young knights were fine. Victor believed this bloody battle would be the fodder for their vigorous growth, the beginning of their life’s transformation.

This thought was also a form of self-comfort for Victor. Little Salu had just turned fifteen. At his age, he shouldn’t have participated in a battle of this intensity, nor should he have to bear accusations of cowardice. Victor had brought his young attendants from the Centaur Hills to the Sasan Empire merely to let them witness a true pioneer war, not to send them to their deaths. Before leaving, Victor had already arranged for Charlotte and the others to stay at Duncan Fortress, yet a young attendant still died.

The main culprit was undoubtedly Roland!

“Patriarch Flidis would not have asked you to attack on your own initiative. What exactly happened at Duncan Fortress?” Victor asked coolly, his eyes hiding a frosty glare.

The high-ranked knights looked at each other, their expressions turning strange. In the end, it was Viscount Eriks who stepped forward to answer the Guardian’s question:

“The Centaur Great Khan’s attack on the Little Calf Village Barracks was ferocious. We originally didn’t want to fight either. But as it happened, not long after Patriarch Flidis left Duncan Fortress, Princess Royal Freya Friedrich arrived at the fortress with three high-ranked knights and three thousand cavalry.”

“My Princess Royal personally went to the main gate to greet Princess Royal Freya and asked her directly if she had come to seek revenge for His Majesty Friedrich and Grand Duke Friedrich. If so, Gambis’s twenty thousand warriors would lend their full support.”

Eriks couldn’t help but smile as he continued, “Princess Royal Freya Friedrich was stunned at the time, but she nodded and said yes. And then, well, this happened.”

Terlanden added from the side, “While Her Highness Auguste was mustering the troops, we offered our counsel, hoping to first notify Patriarch Flidis, Blood Wolfhold, Duchess Baselius, and His Majesty Friedrich. The Princess Royal did not accept our counsel. In front of all the officers and soldiers, she said that if we didn’t even dare to fight a war of vengeance against the Centaurs, then Gambis might as well forget about the southern expansion.”

Victor sighed inwardly. Roland and Freya had similar experiences. She first put Freya on the spot with her words, then brought up a war of vengeance. When the Silver Knights of Gambis thought of King Ryan and the Three Provinces War, what else could they say?

But why would Roland risk Gambis’s elite cavalry?

Vassal cavalry were elites painstakingly cultivated by their respective families. They were loyal, brave, skilled in battle, and all-around experts, even more elite than special forces. Cavalrymen from the great families who found their way to Laketon could, upon swearing fealty to the House of Randell, qualify to serve as Decurions in the mercenary legion, commanding twenty-four mercenary soldiers. They were the backbone of the mercenary legion and also served as military instructors. Narsen and Victor placed great importance on such men. Even if they couldn’t be fully trusted, they tried their best to win them over, tapping into their skills to improve the military-prowess of the mercenary soldiers.

In fact, when a lord issued a Call to Arms, the vassal cavalry would take on the duties of low-ranking officers, each capable of commanding ten to twenty armed militiamen. Once the Centaur Hills fully mobilized, the Fanged Legion of five thousand could expand to seventy thousand soldiers.

The loss of even one such elite soldier would break a minor lord’s heart. Victor could not understand Roland’s military adventurism, nor could he fathom her true intentions for initiating the attack.

“Freya raised the black banner of vengeance, and news quickly spread throughout the Duncan Fortress defensive sector. The garrison knights and soldiers all clamored for battle; even the fortress’s resident priest couldn’t suppress them,” Terlanden continued. “In the afternoon, we arrived at the Little Calf Village Barracks. Outside, several thousand Centaurs were on guard, creating a standoff. While the Centaurs broke through the fence to haul out food supplies, Her Highness Roland led over 280 Swift Dragon Knights in the initial charge, and then the entire army pressed forward. The garrison infantry arrived in a steady stream, but the second to join the battle was Her Highness Aurorsia Baselius.”

An idea sparked in Victor’s mind. With the Centaur Great Khan attacking the Little Calf Village Barracks, both Auroxia, who guarded the northern section of the defensive line, and King Friedrich, who guarded the southern section, should have dispatched their mobile cavalry to move closer to the Duncan Fortress sector. They indeed could have reinforced the Little Calf Village Barracks quickly.

When Princess Freya Friedrich raised the black banner to avenge the Emperor and the Grand Duke, the garrison soldiers of the eastern defensive line were in an uproar. The high-ranked battle priests of Duncan Fortress couldn’t quell them, and the two commanders, Auroxia and Friedrich, couldn’t stop the garrison’s unrest either.

Especially Aurorsia Baselius. The murderers of the Emperor and the Grand Duke were right there at Little Calf Village Barracks. With Freya so clearly launching a war of vengeance, if Duchess Baselius didn’t answer the call and even prevented the garrison from reinforcing the defenders of Little Calf Village Barracks to avenge their sovereign, would that not be a blatant act of schism?

By pushing Freya to seek revenge, Roland had effectively dragged the Sasan Empire’s soldiers into the war. Their numbers surpassed the Gambis reinforcements, making them the main force for the assault, and their morale was high!

Of course, their casualties would certainly be higher than those of the Gambis reinforcements.

“With Her Highness Auroxia joining the battle, we pressed our advantage in one breath and pushed the Centaurs back into the barracks. Squad after squad of soldiers from the defensive sector charged in, fighting fiercely with the Centaurs inside the barracks. The third cavalry force to arrive on the battlefield was the Dodor contingent, but they didn’t immediately join the fight. Instead, they assembled and formed up to the south.”

“Duke Baselius’s Griffin Knights arrived on the battlefield before sunset. Without resting, they charged straight into the barracks to join the battle,” Viscount Eriks said excitedly. “That was a satisfying fight. The Centaurs were weaker than we imagined and couldn’t maneuver, getting squeezed into the southern side of the barracks, suffering horrific casualties. In the end, the Centaur Great Khan smashed through the fence and broke out through the Dodor forces with a small number of Dire Centaurs.”

It was logical for the Dodor cavalry to hesitate. King Friedrich’s greatest fear was this Centaur army entering the wide-open Warton Great Plains. They had deployed heavy forces in the southern section of the defensive line, either to deter the Centaurs from heading south or to kill as many Centaur warriors as possible to reduce their numbers. It was almost impossible for King Friedrich to agree to Roland’s wish for the Dodor cavalry to attack proactively.

When Freya raised the banner of vengeance for the Emperor and the Grand Duke, the Sasan garrison soldiers in the southern section grew restless. King Friedrich could only make a swift decision, mustering the Iron Wall Knights and mobile cavalry to support the battle at Little Calf Village Barracks.

He was using his actions to tell the garrison on the southern line: we are going to fight the Centaurs, you just focus on holding the defenses.

The Dodor reinforcements arrived at the battlefield but held their position, taking up defensive stances. Firstly, the Little Calf Village Barracks was packed with people and Centaurs, so they couldn’t squeeze in. Secondly, they had to guard against the possibility of the Centaur army breaking through the fence and fleeing south.

So, the Iron Wall Knights and the Dodor cavalry formed up where they were, adopting a defensive posture.

Friedrich’s response was perhaps all within Roland’s calculations.

According to Terlanden, Roland and Auroxia led their forces to push the Centaurs toward the southern side of the barracks, and outside the southern fence were tens of thousands of human soldiers, waiting at ease for an exhausted enemy. Because of this, the Centaur Great Khan hesitated for a long time before deciding to break out to the south. Only when its Centaurs were nearly all dead or wounded did it finally smash the barracks fence and flee south with its remaining forces.

Victor’s thoughts gradually cleared, and he began to grasp Roland’s intention.

The Centaur Great Khan had gathered its forces to counter-attack the heartland of the human empire. This was a brilliant move. It tied down at least half of the human cavalry, drastically reducing the pressure on the Centaur clans escaping to the eastern regions. Some Centaur bands were even able to turn the tables and hunt human cavalry.

This might have been wisdom, but Victor was more inclined to believe the Centaur Great Khan’s desperate counter-attack was a psychic intuition, a revelation from the herd mentality, or perhaps from the pan-consciousness of Mother Earth.

Roland probably didn’t believe the Centaur Great Khan possessed much wisdom either. So, after it led more than ten thousand Centaurs to the border of the Sasan Empire, what would it do next?

To the west, east, or north were all dead ends. Only by heading south, into the Warton Great Plains, could these Centaurs survive the winter.

The Centaur Great Khan didn’t know the way, but it could rely on its intuition to find a path to survival. After taking the Little Calf Village Barracks, the likelihood of a southward migration was highest!

For the Sasan Empire, it was fine as long as these Centaurs didn’t enter the imperial heartland to wreak havoc on the populace. But if more than four thousand Centaurs slipped into the Warton Great Plains, the grain supply routes for the two great kingdoms of Dodor and Gambis would be in grave danger.

The Church could still execute their Central Kingdom strategy and open a transport route connecting Naville to the Westdon Khanate. But the prerequisite was that the human armies first conquer the entire Westdon Khanate and achieve initial success in pioneering the wilderness.

This could take more than twenty years, and Gambis’s southern expansion strategy couldn’t wait that long.

Roland already understood the importance of logistics in a total war. In this beastman war, the Sasan Empire had consumed half of its three-year grain reserve, and the losses of warhorses, equipment, and soldiers had not yet been calculated. All these things needed to be supported by grain. Gambis’s agriculture and animal husbandry were self-sufficient, but its grain reserves were far inferior to the Sasan Empire’s.

Regardless of whether the Centaurs headed south to the Warton Great Plains, Roland had to completely snuff out that possibility.

Gambis could not accept several thousand Centaurs entering the Warton Great Plains. A few hundred would not be a major problem.

That’s why Roland had said:

If we don’t dare fight this battle, then Gambis might as well forget about the southern expansion.

The conservative Patriarch Flidis was unwittingly dragged into the fray by Roland.

Victor couldn’t help but feel a sense of admiration. The unreliable Roland was just that—full of unbridled creativity, stunningly brilliant.

“Come, take me to see the battlefield.”

The high-ranked knights of Gambis flocked around the Protector of the Kingdom, walking toward the Little Calf Village Barracks. The clergy and Sasan knights responsible for the aftermath came forward to pay their respects. Victor nodded in acknowledgment, his gaze turning to the ruined fence.

The eighteen-meter-high fence had collapsed in multiple places. The thick logs were studded with javelins and arrows, and all the artillery platforms had been destroyed by heavy javelins. Victor pictured the scene in his mind:

Nearly twenty thousand Centaurs, sustaining war with war, had fought their way from the east to the west, approaching the eastern defensive line of the human empire. They were hungry, exhausted, and covered in wounds. With human cavalry liable to catch up at any moment, they urgently needed food and military equipment and supplies, and then a quick relocation. Only by taking a human settlement could the Centaurs find a sliver of hope for survival.

The foremost Little Calf Village Barracks became the Centaurs’ target.

The two thousand garrison soldiers in the barracks also had no path of retreat. They would either all die in battle or hold out until the cavalry reinforcements arrived.

Centaurs were not skilled at siege warfare to begin with, let alone in their current weakened state. Meanwhile, the garrison soldiers were well-equipped and stood in disciplined ranks, and dozens of outpost ballistae could even threaten Gold-rank Centaurs.

The Legendary Centaur entered the field alone. It first used the heavy spears and battleaxes it had plundered from human cavalry to destroy the outpost ballistae one by one, then rammed the barracks fence.

Victor reached out and touched the edge of a breach in the fence, gathering relevant data and quickly calculating the Legendary Centaur’s weight, height, and other characteristics. The log fence of the barracks was very sturdy, but it was like thin paper before the Legendary Centaur. However, the fence was designed to withstand the impact of large beastmen, with a large amount of soil, crushed stone, and mortar packed in the middle. Even if the Centaur Great Khan rammed a large hole in it, it wouldn’t collapse entirely; broken wood and earth would fall down, forming an obstacle.

The Centaur Great Khan charged into the barracks under a dense hail of crossbow bolts and arrows. Seeing that even military heavy crossbows were ineffective against it, the garrison soldiers on the fence turned to fire at the Centaurs outside. Due to the obstacles and the human archers, the Centaurs couldn’t enter the barracks through the breach. They first had to clear the obstacles. So, the Centaurs used javelins and arrows to suppress the human soldiers on the stockade wall, forcing them to the other side of the fence.

This side of the stockade wall was left densely packed with arrows and javelins… The Centaurs had consumed a large number of their ranged weapons, and that was exactly what Roland was waiting for!

The Centaurs cleared the obstacles and entered the barracks to start moving food and supplies. At this point, the Centaurs in their Savage state sensed the approach of Roland’s cavalry. They organized several thousand Centaurs to face off against the human cavalry from a distance, while speeding up their looting of supplies.

But why didn’t the Centaur Great Khan lead the guard? If it had been outside the barracks, the main reinforcements from Gambis would have suffered far more than just these casualties!

“Let’s go inside and see.”

Victor stepped through the breach into the barracks and walked all the way to the opposite fence. There were also about twenty ballista platforms here, most of which were destroyed.

At that time, the garrison of Little Calf Village had abandoned the northeastern fence and concentrated on the southwestern side, firing desperately from their elevated position at the Centaur bandits inside the camp. The Centaurs were running low on arrows. The Dire Centaur commanders, in coordination with the Great Khan, accurately shot down the human archers on the stockade wall to prevent them from attacking the ordinary Centaur warriors who were transporting grain.

The garrison soldiers had tied down the majority of the Centaurs’ strongest fighters, giving the Gambis cavalry an opportunity.

This, too, was within Roland’s grasp!

Victor noticed something unusual on the ground. He walked over and scooped up a handful of fine sand. Viscount Eriks sighed beside him, “This is the battle trace left by Earl Folt and Viscount Jiris. Their Mithril swords struck the Legendary Centaur, but the void earth element was channeled into the ground, turning the soil to dust. The Centaur Great Khan was completely unharmed. The two excellencies tied down the Legendary beastman for a while, but in the end, they perished under its fists.”

“A Legendary-rank Centaur is indeed difficult to match. Close-quarters combat should have been to its disadvantage, but both Earl Folt and Viscount Jiris made minor mistakes one after another and were struck squarely by the Centaur Great Khan. When I fought the Great Khan, I also made a misjudgment. Only later did I learn that the Centaur Great Khan possesses the beastmen’s Touch of the Mind,” Viscount Eskri said with a frown and a sigh. “Fortunately, more than twenty Secret Art Guards from the Centaur Hills desperately intercepted it, holding down the Centaur Great Khan. Even when they were shaken to the point of vomiting blood, they never let go. We took the opportunity to land a few more slashes on it, but unfortunately, it had no effect.”

“Their heroic deeds inspired the soldiers’ fighting spirit. Everyone surged forward, one after another, nearly burying the Centaurs.”

Those twenty-plus Secret Art Guards were the level-three Gryphon Militiamen Victor had assigned to the family’s Great Knights. The Centaur Great Khan’s Touch of the Mind was ineffective against alchemical creatures. If it wasn’t running, and was fighting in place, the Gryphon Militia could have truly beaten it to a pulp if their numbers were sufficient.

Victor didn’t want to talk about the “heroism and tenacity” of the Alchemical militia anymore. He changed the subject and asked, “Folt and Jiris chose to face the Legendary Centaur alone?”

“It was a Trial of Life and Death for high-ranked knights. None of us could interfere. Soldiers who got too close to the battle circle could be shaken to death on the spot by the void earth element,” Terlanden explained.

Victor nodded and asked, “What was Roland doing?”

“Her Highness the Princess was doing her best to kill the other Dire Centaurs, leading the soldiers to push the Centaur army toward the southern side. She personally slew a Gold-rank Centaur,” Eskri replied.

Victor pointed to a patch of frost-covered earth not far away and asked, “Are those the battle traces left by Roland?”

“The Princess Royal did not fight the Centaur Great Khan. Those are the traces left when Her Highness Auroxia fought the Legendary beastman.” Earl Terlanden paused, then said in a low voice, “Duchess Baselius is unimaginably powerful. She is likely the true First Gold Knight of our time. The Centaur Great Khan was beaten back by her in repeated defeats; it was no match for her at all. Moreover, we are certain that Her Highness Auroxia touched the Legendary rank during the battle. After the battle, Duke Baselius did not pursue the fleeing Centaurs. He returned to the fortress with the Duchess, surely to protect Auroxia while she stabilizes her realm.”

“The human kingdoms have another legendary Highness.”

Victor was taken aback for a moment, then turned his head and said, “If you can perceive the disturbance of Legendary-rank void water element, then Roland certainly can. She was stimulated by Auroxia… and then went to chase the Centaur Great Khan?”

Eriks gave a bitter smile. “Your Highness, you know Princess Roland. We couldn’t persuade her.”

In this battle, Roland had turned the tables and become the master, holding Favorable timing, geographical advantage, and popular support, beating the Centaurs into a pulp. Yet in the end, it was Auroxia who ascended to the throne of the Legendary rank.

Fate was truly even more unpredictable than Roland.

Auroxia was, after all, of the direct bloodline of a Spirit Knight. Even Sylvia was wary of her and had specifically warned Victor not to get involved with her.

It seemed… perhaps… it was quite normal for her to advance to a Legendary-rank Raging Wave Knight.

Seeing Victor lost in thought, Terlanden worried that he might develop an interest in Auroxia. After all, female knights who could procreate with a Sun Elf were extremely rare. The more powerful an extraordinary being, the more difficult it was for them to reproduce, and the more they valued their spouse and offspring. This attraction was rooted deep in the bloodline of higher life forms. Dragons and Manticores were like this, and Sun Elves were no exception.

“Your Highness, we have also reaped great rewards. I have stirred the Elemental Sea and believe I will soon become a half-goldenized Earth Knight,” Terlanden said, trying to divert Victor’s attention. “Gambis also has a senior knight who broke through to the Silver realm, and more than ten apprentice knights achieved the Bronze-rank. They have returned to Duncan Fortress with Lady Charlotte Randell to stabilize their realms. Would you like to go and see them?”

Victor found it rather amusing. As the Mind’s Dominator, he had already overcome the flaws in his bloodline. He was pondering another question.

The Centaur Great Khan only had a few hundred Centaurs with it. This number of beastmen didn’t require much in the way of food supplies. They could have easily fled east, all the way to the eastern regions of the Westdon Khanate. With the Legendary Centaur’s psychic intuition, very few people could have blocked their path.

So why did the Legendary Centaur still flee south?

The larger the group, the greater the suppression on the individual. Roland had used precisely this fact, squeezing several thousand Centaurs into a confined space, making it difficult for the Centaur Great Khan to exert its full strength. Now, with only a few elites left by its side, its power was completely unleashed.

Regardless of why it chose the south as its escape route, any Gold Knight who pursued it risked perishing. An Earth Knight couldn’t catch up to a Legendary Centaur, but Roland was a Gold-rank Raging Wave Knight, possessing both strength and speed. She could catch up to the Centaur Great Khan, which also put her in exceptional danger.

Victor glanced at the Great Knights around him and grumbled inwardly: A bunch of slowpokes, useless right now.

“Her Highness Princess Auguste is practically a goddess of war,” His Highness Randell commented.

The Silver Knights all nodded, their faces expressing full agreement.

Victor cleared his throat and said, “I’ll go bring back Gambis’s war goddess now… Caligula, you’re with me. Narsen, you take the household guards and assist Miss Gillian Chapman, then return to Duncan Fortress together. Tell Charlotte and the others not to wait for me. You can all return directly to Laketon.”

Narsen knelt on one knee and said in a resolute voice, “My lord, I want to go with you to pursue the Centaurs.”

His attitude was sincere, imbued with an unshakeable will. Victor was silent for a moment before nodding. “Alright, we’ll go find Roland, Her Highness Princess Auguste, together.”

“Gentlemen, you all clean up the aftermath and await the kingdom’s orders at Duncan Fortress,” Victor said, turning around. His underlying meaning was that the Gambis reinforcements would no longer participate in the fighting.

The Great Knights performed a Knight’s salute to the Protector of the Kingdom and said in unison, “Your esteemed Highness Randell, may your enemies’ blood flow like a river before your sword.”

Chapter 669: Psychic Tsunami

The Sasan Empire’s eastern defensive line was heavily fortified against large-scale beastmen invasions. That several hundred Centaurs were able to escape from the Little Calf Village Barracks and break through the Dodor soldiers’ lines meant that every one of them was an elite among Centaur warriors.

Just as the high-ranking knights had expected, under the leadership of the Legendary Centaur, they crossed the southern section of the eastern defensive line, even dismantling several outpost camps along the way to seize a small amount of supplies, before plunging headlong into the Warton Great Plains.

Of course, they did not escape unscathed. Coupled with the relentless pursuit of the Three Great Knight Orders and seven Gold Knights, the Centaurs’ numbers were reduced by nearly half. Only a little over three hundred made it into the Great Plains.

In the contest of life and death, the weak were ruthlessly eliminated, while the survivors received bountiful rewards, growing even stronger. Of these three hundred-odd Centaurs, the vast majority had likely entered a Savage state.

A purplish-blue canopy stretched over the boundless Warton Great Plains, where withered yellow grass grew as high as an adult’s calf, extending as far as the eye could see.

Victor retracted his gaze from the distant horizon and turned his head to see Caligula sprawled in a nest of grass. Both amused and annoyed, he said, “Aka, we should get going.”

Caligula sprang up from the pile of grass, still clutching a plump prairie gopher in his hand. He presented it to Victor as if it were a treasure, blinking and saying cheerfully, “Master, look… so fat, so fat.”

The Great Plains, with its lush water and grass, was a paradise for herbivores. It was home to tens of millions of wild red bulls, as well as herds of wild horses, prairie serows, and other large and medium-sized herbivores. Even the prairie rabbits and gophers were twice the size of those in Gambis. Even in the cold of winter, the dry grass covering the ground provided ample food for the animals. Fat gophers could be caught with ease, which naturally attracted Goblins and Gnolls to roam the plains.

With over three hundred Dire Centaurs, their intuitions sharpened, galloping wildly across the Great Plains, the War Beast Knights’ task of finding them was akin to searching for a needle in a haystack. However, if the knight orders employed special methods, such as using falcons in coordination with aberrant war beasts skilled at tracking scents, they could still find traces of the Centaurs. Quietly deploying certain wizards with unique talents would be even more effective.

Back then, the Gold-rank Gnoll Windfang had run rampant in the Naville mountains, yet his range of activity had still been secretly pinpointed by a Wizard kept by the Rex family.

The Centaurs’ strength was uneven. The ordinary Dire Centaurs would slow down the powerful Centaur Great Khan, as their speed was determined by the weakest in the group. Chasing a group of Centaurs was certainly much easier than hunting a single Gnoll using Wind Walk.

The problem was that the environment of the Great Plains leveled the playing field. The knight orders’ home advantage had turned into a disadvantage, while the Centaurs’ disadvantage had become their home turf. They did not lack prey, only weapons. But they could obtain a certain degree of supplies from Goblins, or even raid prairie nomads to seize weapons and equipment. The risk for the knight orders in exterminating the Centaurs was rising exponentially.

Roland was audacious to a fault. She had dared to venture deep into Randt Imperial territory to hunt down the Legendary Knight Neo Wester in the past. Now, she had set her sights on the Legendary Centaur. Gambis had already lost two Silver-rank Earth Knights, and as the youngest Gold-rank female knight in the human kingdoms, Princess Auguste’s potential was astonishing. Whether for the sake of the bigger picture for the southern empires or out of personal friendship, Victor was deeply concerned for her safety.

Victor had never seen the Legendary Centaur. With only the scant information he had gathered, it was nearly impossible to track his target on the vast plains. But he was familiar with Roland. His Nemesis’s Tracking Intuition vaguely indicated that Princess Auguste was in the far west, but the other three high-ranking female knights were to the south.

That direction led to Holy Helm City on the Great Plains.

Roland and Margaret Wellington’s group had separated?

Weighing the pros and cons, Victor decided to head to Holy Helm City first to gather information. If necessary, he could leave Narsen and Caligula in the city and pursue Roland alone. He believed he could find her quickly.

Without the Horned Wolves to slow them down, Victor and his six-man entourage soon arrived at Holy Helm City.

Outside the city, the grounds were filled with the tents of prairie nomads, along with countless cattle, sheep, and horses. The twelve holy cities of the plains usually served as trade nodes connecting the Sasan Empire and the Dodor Kingdom. During the Season of Water, they became places where the nomads gathered to pass the winter. Grazing was forbidden on the pasturelands within a four-hundred-li radius of the holy cities. In autumn, the nomads of every tribe had to send people to the holy city pastures to harvest dry grass for winter fodder.

This year’s rainy and snowy season had not yet arrived. Large caravans transported grain and wheat straw from Sasan, wine and spices from Gambis, weapons and crossbows from Dodor, ironware from Naville, and cloth and silk from Sus to the holy cities of the plains to trade with the nomads for hides, meat, cattle, sheep, and horses.

The two-month-long great market in the holy cities was also the courting season for the young men and women of the plains. Outside Holy Helm City, it was overcrowded and bustling with noise. Before the sky had even darkened, the nomads had already set up bonfires. Young shepherdesses, dressed in new skirts and adorned with newly traded jewelry, danced gracefully around the fires. Nomads from other tribes and caravan hands watched and cheered from the sidelines. A shepherdess would toss a small, hand-made decorated blanket before a man, signifying her affection. If the man picked up the blanket, he could lead the shepherdess into a tent to spend a wonderful night together. The next day, they would go their separate ways. If the man could not bear to part with his beautiful lover, he would either present a generous sum of gift money to the tribe’s chief and take the shepherdess with him, or stay behind and become her husband.

The nomads’ tents surrounded Holy Helm City, stretching for more than ten li. The aroma of meat and wine wafted through the camp, which was filled with song and dance, showing no sense of urgency about a monster attack.

On second thought, before the few hundred Centaurs could form a proper tribal force, they could be seen as just a few hundred dire beasts on the plains. There was really no need to make a fuss. Even if they wanted to put down roots and procreate on the Great Plains, they would need females. The current situation indicated that no female Centaurs were found on the battlefield at the Little Calf Village Barracks.

Logically, the Centaur Great Khan should lead his three hundred-plus followers eastward across the Great Plains, reach the Giantstone Mountains, and then sneak along the forest belt at the foot of the mountains into the Northern Wildlands to rendezvous with the Centaurs in the eastern part of the Westdon Khanate.

But why was Roland heading west across the Great Plains? The westernmost part of the plains was the Ghost Forest, which was the vanguard of the Endless Forest.

Could it be that the Centaur Great Khan was heading for the Endless Forest?

Full of questions, Victor was anxious to enter the city to find Margaret and the others and get some answers. But the roads were packed with people, and they bumped into several groups of drunk nomads.

Trouble from drunkards was a small matter; the Alchemical Soldiers could casually shove them to the side of the road. It was the passionate prairie girls who were the real headache.

Caligula’s unusually tall stature made him the center of attention in any crowd. Narsen and the Alchemical militia were brawny and powerful, perfectly matching the aesthetic of the prairie shepherdesses. Following their gazes, the bold and open shepherdesses naturally noticed Victor in the center.

Although Victor wore a hood and visor, his aura was like the bright moonlight, and his perfectly proportioned body was just as charismatic. The visor on his face hid his extraordinary good looks but added a touch of mystery, further piquing the womens’ curiosity.

Ordinary people would feel inadequate in Victor’s presence, not daring to look him in the eye. A solitary mind is easily intimidated, but an ocean of minds is completely different. Courting was a simple matter. A single girl might be shy and nervous, but the amorous feelings of a group of girls were magnified many times over, giving them immense courage and enthusiasm.

It was, after all, the prairie people’s courting season. The young nomad girls surrounded Victor and his men, laughing and teasing, completely blocking the path.

The Alchemical Soldiers were a clueless lot. They unceremoniously threw the shepherdesses who tried to get close to their Master back into the crowd.

That was like poking a hornet’s nest.

Nomad hunters rushed over from all directions, pulling their desired girls behind them and forming a solid human wall. They shielded the girls from sight, then began shouting and taunting Victor’s group, but no one dared to actually make a move.

That Giant looked like he was not to be trifled with.

Victor was secretly annoyed but helpless. A High-ranked Knight could project his spirit, and crowds would part automatically without a word, but he lacked this ability. In essence, High-ranked Knights were close to the Elemental Sea and mastered fundamental Laws, giving their spiritual power great versatility. The Sun Elf bloodline was an extreme expression of the world’s Laws; although mighty in combat, their spiritual disposition was fixed.

Though he didn’t know about the marital relationships of the Elves, Victor highly suspected that among the High Moon Elves, where females outnumbered males, a Sun Elf was one of a kind and had spouses in droves. No wonder he was so popular with the opposite sex.

“You four, don’t draw your weapons.”

Victor stopped the four Alchemical Soldiers from drawing their weapons and said coolly, “Aka, scare them.”

“Ah… Ooh… Ah!”

Caligula bared his teeth and brandished his claws, putting on a menacing act. The nomad hunters fell silent for a moment, then burst into laughter.

Narsen took a step forward, his gaze sweeping over them like a steel awl, and the laughter died instantly. A low, suppressed voice rumbled from his throat:

“All of you, scram!”

Meeting Narsen’s murderous gaze, the nomad hunters turned pale and retreated one by one. The surroundings gradually fell silent as an atmosphere of grimness, even awe, brewed and spread.

Walking through the parted crowd, Victor let out a low laugh and said to Narsen, “Very fierce… a bit like the Touch of the Mind.”

Narsen was completely bewildered, hesitating as he muttered, “This is the Touch of the Mind? It’s not what I imagined… I was always fierce. In battle, many opponents’ legs would tremble just from seeing me.”

Victor smiled. “But you could never scare this many people, could you? Do you remember little Bill from Laketon?”

“Bill the pig butcher?” Narsen grinned. “I remember him. He was famous among the lower-class people… I didn’t expect you to have heard of him, my lord.”

Victor nodded and said, “Little Bill. He wasn’t young, but he was small, seemed quiet and gentle, and didn’t have much strength. Before coming to House of Randell, he specialized in butchering wild boars for meat shops. It’s said he had twenty-three years of experience. Caligula learned how to butcher pigs from him back then. When he walked into a pigsty, all the pigs wouldn’t dare to move or squeal. He’d just grab an ear, and they would obediently come out to meet their end.”

“An eight-hundred-pound boar, and Bill would kill it instantly with one strike. Caligula used the same technique, but the pigs he killed never failed to squeal. Aka could never learn that skill, no matter how hard he tried. Do you know why?”

Narsen scratched his head vigorously, saying with some embarrassment, “I don’t know… Actually, I tried to learn Bill’s way of butchering pigs, too, but it was useless. Whether it was a big pig or a small one, when death was near, they’d all struggle like crazy.”

Victor said, “Bill’s single strike killed even the pig’s will to survive. Isn’t that the Touch of the Mind?”

Narsen’s eyes lit up, and he murmured, “So, annihilating an opponent’s will is the Touch of the Mind?”

Victor thought for a moment and said, “I believe the scope of the Touch of the Mind is extremely broad, and its manifestations are varied. Bill’s pig butchering is one form of the Touch of the Mind, but it’s not suited for combat. We only focus on how the Touch of the Mind enhances combat effectiveness, ignoring its potential in other areas.”

“Just now, your murderous aura scared the people in the front row. The people behind couldn’t see, but the emotion of fear had already spread and rapidly amplified on the mental plane of the crowd. ‘Fear begets fear, scaring people to death,’ is what this refers to. It reminds me of the Bear-monster Elder’s War Roar. Its effect on enemies is mediocre, but it greatly boosts the fighting will of ordinary Bear-monsters. This is a kind of contagion on the spiritual level. I plan to call it a ‘Psychic Tsunami’.”

“My lord, a ‘tsunami’… what is that?”

“Uh… it’s when water passes from layer to layer, gathering into an unimaginably immense force.” It was a slip of the tongue. Annoyed, Victor reprimanded him, “Don’t worry about the details, focus on the principle!”

“Oh.” Narsen nodded repeatedly, knowing what was good for him.

Victor paused, then explained in a way Narsen could understand, “As the Supreme Commander of the House of Randell’s military, it is important for you to hone your martial skills and improve your personal combat ability, but don’t neglect a greater power—inspiring the courage of the Legion and channeling the Legion’s collective willpower into yourself. This will elevate you to a whole new level.”

“The Centaur Great Khan’s strength grew by leaps and bounds. When fighting Grand Duke Friedrich, he even coughed up blood and was seriously injured. But at the Little Calf Village Barracks, Auroxia’s power froze the very ground. That exhilarating battle pushed her to take the most critical step and reach the Legendary-rank. Yet, that Centaur was completely unharmed. Although the Armor of the Earth talent can transfer damage taken by the Centaur, it is not a complete elementalization. If too much damage accumulates, it can still be killed. The fact that the Centaur Great Khan could withstand Auroxia’s furious assault means the degree of semi-elementalization of his Armor of the Earth surpassed Auroxia’s.”

“Few intelligent beings can ascend to the heavens in a single step and gain immense power in a short time. I can only assume that the Centaur Great Khan’s internal potential was rapidly unearthed. And the turning point was his decision to bear the fate of his people, regardless of life or death! The more Centaur warriors he gathered, the more their hopes and trust in him spurred his transformation, making him stronger and more intelligent. In times of crisis, the power of the Centaurs’ minds linked together, forming a ‘tsunami’ that pushed that one Centaur to the pinnacle.”

Victor stopped walking and said gravely, “The Bloodline Law of humans is extremely inclusive. Humans can also simulate the War Roar talent of a Bear-monster Elder. The Touch of the Mind has diverse paths. You can direct your power of the mind towards the Legion, and in the future, you might grasp a super-powerful mind talent!”

Narsen’s eyes shone. He asked, “My lord, what should we do then? Capture a Bear-monster Elder to study?”

Victor didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He shook his head. “No, a Bear-monster Elder won’t teach the secrets of his talent. We can start with the barbarians. The War-chanters of the barbarians can mobilize mystical powers, with effects covering enemy suppression, self-enhancement, and group buffs.”

Narsen scratched his head again. “This barbarian… would she be willing to teach me?”

Victor glanced back at the goofy Caligula and said in a low voice, “Don’t you think that Sophia’s female barbarian follower has a special interest in Aka?”

Narsen was stunned for a moment, suppressed a laugh, and nodded. “It seems… there might be something.”

Caligula heard them, but his attention was on the roasted meat over the bonfires. He had no idea that his Master and Narsen were secretly plotting to sell him for a good price.

This was just a joke, of course. How to obtain the secrets of War-chanting from the barbarians would require long-term planning. Victor turned to another question, “Tell me your intuition. What do you think of the suggestion to direct the Touch of the Mind towards the Legion?”

Narsen frowned in thought for a moment, then asked hesitantly, “My lord, you said the Centaur Great Khan was pushed to the peak by a Psychic Tsunami. Could he fall to his death from there?”

Victor’s heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t help but think of Gambis’s late King, Ryan. If not for the immense responsibility he shouldered, which put tremendous pressure on his mind, how could Ryan have made a mistake in his three-sword duel with Neo Wester?

To control the power of a collective ocean of minds, one’s own mind must first be strong enough.

“…Let’s put this matter aside for now.” Victor looked up and saw Narsen’s face filled with anticipation, and he instantly became alert.

The idea of the War Roar sprouted in Narsen’s mind like a weed.

His mind was no longer focused!

Shortcuts always make it easy to lose one’s way… Victor cursed inwardly. He had placed this Devil in Narsen’s heart. Now, he had to remedy it, but the price would still have to be paid by Narsen.

“We must first deal with the elite among the Centaurs.” Victor fell silent for a moment, then raised an eyebrow and asked, “My opponent is the Legendary Centaur. I didn’t originally want to bring you, but since you’ve come along, you should be prepared to die in battle. I will have you assist your liege lord with all your strength, at the very least to cut off his claws… You might even have to face a Legendary monster… I’ll ask you one last time, will you follow me?”

The blood rushed through Narsen’s veins, and all his previous distracting thoughts vanished into thin air. He roared in a low voice, “Master, I am fearless! I wish to be your sword and armor!”

“Good!” Victor clapped Narsen on the shoulder pauldron, his eyes blazing. “Let the Bards once again sing of the fame of the Bear of the Northlands!”

Caligula walked up, beating his chest with a loud thud, and said with a cheerful grin, “Aka has strength. Brave Aka will help Narsen fight monsters.”

Narsen, his face and neck flushed red, shouted, “I don’t need your… uh, you can help by scaring the Centaurs from the side. Not like just now, you have to really scare them!”

At this, the three of them laughed, Aka’s being a silly one.

As they walked through the gates of Holy Helm City, the city’s high-ranking knights and priests came to greet them. The three high-ranking female knights from Gambis were among them, as was the stunningly beautiful, black-haired, blue-eyed female earl, Andria Wimbledon. But the person at the very front was Vice-Commander Clark Testier.

When Victor saw him, his expression immediately darkened. He demanded, somewhat flustered and exasperated, “Clark, what are you doing here? Why are you here?”

Chapter 670: Behind the Cute and Beautiful Facade

The Gold-Eyed Earl’s aggressive questioning of the Radiant Knights’ vice-commander left the high-ranking knights and priests feeling baffled. Clark was displeased, but having witnessed Victor’s extraordinary tracking abilities, he could guess the source of his frustration.

A Gold-rank Centaur could draw strength from the earth to recover its stamina, giving it endurance comparable to that of a Gold-rank Earth Knight. However, with four legs, its mobility was indeed somewhat faster than a Gold Knight’s. The speed and stamina of a Legendary Centaur were on another level entirely. Yet, it was ultimately a beastman with an affinity for the earth element. In contrast, a Raging Wave Knight’s Aura was vast and self-sustaining, and their speed was second only to a Stormwind Knight’s. Even a high-ranking female knight at the peak of the Silver rank could keep pace with a Centaur Chiliarch. Princess Roland Auguste had pursued the Centaur Great Khan west across the Great Plains all by herself, leaving the other six Gold Knights far behind.

The Earth Knights were too slow to keep up with Roland and the Legendary Centaur, but could a Stormwind Paladin not keep up either?

Victor had personally seen Strange Testier kite a Manticore.

The one who should have pursued did not, and those who couldn’t pursue wouldn’t even try. This meant Roland was isolated and facing the Centaur Great Khan alone. Victor was naturally enraged, and he didn’t mince words as he demanded to know why Clark hadn’t gone to support the Princess of Gambis.

The Gold-Eyed Earl’s attitude was certainly unreasonable and brazen. Clark was not a highness of the Gambis Kingdom; he had neither ordered Roland to hunt down the Centaur Great Khan, nor could he command her to abandon her target.

So young. Roland is in danger and he immediately gets anxious… Clark sneered inwardly. He, too, believed Victor and Roland were a potential couple. Due to her age and personality, Roland still held a certain romantic idealism about mortal love and was unwilling to share her lover. That was the only reason the two hadn’t gotten together, instead maintaining a close yet distant relationship.

Regardless, the fact that Victor could deduce Roland’s predicament simply by seeing the Stormwind Paladin once again proved his extraordinary wisdom and Tracking Intuition.

Respecting extraordinary power was respecting oneself. Clark was old enough to be Victor’s grandfather; he could understand the young man’s feelings and tolerate his rude outburst.

“Cousin Victor, I only arrived at the Warton Great Plains a day before you,” Clark said with an elegant smile. “By the time I caught up with the Iron Wall Knights, the centaurs had already scattered.”

“Scattered?”

Victor was greatly surprised by this news. Centaurs had an unusual physique, making them ill-suited for single combat and exceptionally reliant on the strength of their group. At the same Gold rank, a Centaur Chiliarch was far weaker than an Ogre Warlord; even a high-ranking Silver Knight had a chance of killing one. It was a proven fact that in a one-on-one fight, a Centaur Chiliarch posed almost no threat to a high-ranking Knight.

Of course, the fact that high-ranking knights couldn’t catch a centaur was another matter.

The Centaur Great Khan’s forces scattering across the Warton Great Plains was bad news. It meant the Legendary Centaur’s abilities were completely unshackled, no longer constrained by its group.

Sometimes, a lone wolf is more terrifying than a pack.

However, these three hundred elite centaurs were the Great Khan’s most important followers. Only by bringing them back to the eastern part of the Westdon Khanate could the Centaur Great Khan effectively command the various tribes.

Without a doubt, the Legendary Centaur had the ability to do so.

To abandon his comrades-in-arms just like that—Victor could not comprehend the Centaur Great Khan’s actions.

Clark smiled and said, “Let the ladies from Gambis explain. They know what happened here better than I do.”

Margaret Wellington held the highest rank, but with her cold temperament, she rarely spoke. A high-ranking female knight from House Joshua was about to explain to Victor when Countess Andria Wimbledon cut in.

“Victor, that night, the Three Great Knight Orders followed the centaurs closely into the Warton Great Plains. The Centaur Great Khan single-handedly tried to block us twice, but he was held back by the combined efforts of several Gold Knights. Neither side could gain an advantage. In the end, the centaurs instigated a stampede of wild bison and used the herd as cover to temporarily shake off our pursuit. The Centaur Great Khan and two Gold-rank Centaur Chiliarchs brought up the rear. Once the rest of the centaur band had disappeared into the plains, they galloped off toward the west.”

“King Friedrich requested that the Griffin Knights first hunt down the hidden centaurs before going after the Great Khan, but Her Highness Roland Auguste insisted on pursuing the Legendary Centaur. With their opinions clashing, the Griffin Knights had no choice but to dispatch a team, led by two highnesses, to support Her Highness Auguste.”

Andria gently bit her lip and said softly in an apologetic tone, “But… in the end, we still lost Her Highness Roland. We had no choice but to return to Holy Helm City with the Swift Dragon Knights to wait for you.”

Margaret remained as cool as ever, while the other two high-ranking female knights from Gambis shot sidelong glances at Andria. Roland had run off on her own; no one could persuade her, catch her, or stop her. It had nothing to do with the Griffin Knights. The Wimbledon Countess from the Iron Mountain Empire had always been known for her beauty and cold pride, yet the alluring expression and gentle tone she used with His Highness Randell was unsettling to watch.

They all felt a sense of indignation, as if Andria were trying to seduce their Highness.

Clark had heard about Andria’s formal separation from her husband. Rumors of the Wimbledon Countess controlling her husband had once been a laughingstock in Sasan noble circles. The two Baselius highnesses had even stepped in to persuade the countess to let him go, but she never agreed. It now seemed that Andria was trying to pursue His Highness Randell, and perhaps she had already made some progress.

Victor had blamed the Stormwind Paladin for not aiding the Princess of Gambis the moment he arrived. Clark was unwilling to argue publicly with the young earl, especially when surrounded by high-ranking female knights from Gambis, with the only exception being an admirer of the Sun Elf. They would only side with Victor, without any regard for reason.

Clark thought of a way for both himself and Victor to avoid embarrassment. He offered some reassuring words. “The Legendary Centaur’s strength lies in its defensive talent and terrifying power. Every effective attack it makes is amplified several times by drawing on the power of the earth. When it hits an opponent, it channels that power into the ground, making it impossible for the target to deflect, forcing them to take it head-on. But as for martial skills… centaurs are strangely built. What martial skills could they possibly have?”

“In close combat, it can’t even hit a Silver Knight. Her Highness Auguste’s martial skills surpass my own. Since she dared to pursue a Legendary Centaur alone, she must be completely confident.”

Victor said coldly, “That centaur caused two Gold Knights to perish.”

Clark nodded. “You are correct, but the one at fault was the high-ranking battle priest, not Grand Duke Friedrich. Emperor Friedrich was also ambushed and killed by a group of powerful centaurs, but even so, he slew the khan of the Blackhorn tribe right in front of the Centaur Great Khan.”

“A Gold Knight’s will is connected to the Elemental Sea. Even Tournans would have a hard time shaking a Gold Knight’s mind, let alone a centaur that has just mastered the Touch of the Mind. Without anyone holding her back, the Princess of Gambis can unleash her full power. Also, I have some good news for you: the Centaur Great Khan is out of javelins.”

Clark patted Victor’s shoulder and smiled. “Cousin Victor, if you have any other questions, you can ask Andria. My mission is to hunt down as many of those scattered centaur bandits as possible to prevent any further trouble. Once the Iron Wall Knights and I have dealt with the centaur threat to the Great Plains, we can go and support Princess Roland Auguste. However, I imagine that by then, you two will have already brought back the hide of the Legendary Centaur.”

“I shall take my leave.”

Clark gave a slight bow, slung his Mithril bow over his back, and walked towards the gates of Holy Helm City.

Watching the Stormwind Paladin depart, Victor turned his inquisitive gaze to the beautiful Wimbledon Countess.

Andria’s lips curved upwards slightly as she nodded. “Your Highness, please come with me. I have something to tell you, but it is not convenient for everyone to hear.”

It must be the Beast-tongue Shaman Andria keeps. He must have intercepted some centaur intelligence… Victor understood. He turned and ordered, “You don’t need to follow.”

“As you wish, Your Excellency, His Highness Randell,” the high-ranking female knights from Gambis said in unison, curtsying.

Andria raised a long, slender eyebrow at the three female knights before turning to follow Victor, casually linking her arm with his.

The Raging Wave Knights from House Joshua and House Nim could only glare helplessly at the Wimbledon Countess’s brazen counter-provocation as they watched her and Victor enter a wooden villa.

Upon entering the innermost room of the small villa, Andria closed the door behind them. She wrapped her slender arms around Victor’s neck, tilted up her delicate and pretty face, her eyes half-closed. Her long, thick lashes trembled slightly, and her crystal-red lips were lush and alluring. A natural charm radiated from her, a beauty beyond compare.

Just like the first time, this was not a difficult thing to do. It was just that Andria’s passion was even more fervent than a shepherdess’s during the courting season. The two embraced in a deep kiss, and she ended up sitting intimately on Victor’s lap.

“You must not have thought of me at all these past few days.”

Andria’s cheeks were flushed as she whispered sweetly, “But I missed Your Highness… I’ve decided. I want to be your lover in the North.”

Victor gave a wry smile. “Andria, there will be no future for us. I may never set foot in the North again…”

“I know… but I don’t care for anyone else. My heart needs an anchor so I can calmly accept my husband being with another female knight.”

Andria spoke with a hint of self-mockery, “My love… please allow me to call you that. Not every highness has the courage to kiss and embrace a bad-tempered Stormwind female knight so intimately… That is enough.”

Victor wrapped his arm around Andria’s slender waist and asked, half-joking and half-serious, “And where does your courage come from? I am stronger, smarter, and more dangerous than you, am I not?”

Andria wiggled her hips, making it easier for Victor, or perhaps encouraging him, to unfasten the buckles on the back of her leather armor. She squinted, enjoying her lover’s caress, her voice seductive yet her words calm.

“Emperor Friedrich and the Grand Duke have both perished. Her Highness Auroxia has advanced to Legendary, and the restoration of the Iron Mountain Empire is in sight, but there are still four other highnesses under the Baselius family. My Wimbledon line is weak and isolated. If I want to maintain my ancestor’s glory in the Iron Mountain Empire, I must seek strong external aid. Just as you said before, southern expansion is a line of retreat for the northern lords, and northern expansion is a line of retreat for the southern lords. That ancient coin token represents a secret alliance… but it’s far from enough! I hope our relationship can be deeper. Besides the token of our alliance, I also want a partner ring.”

Now Victor was in a difficult position. He should have realized that the Sasan Empire was rife with dark undercurrents. Feeling the pressure from the four Gold Knights, Andria had leaked the matter of her secret alliance with him to Auroxia. Duchess Aurorsia Baselius then encouraged her to deepen her relationship with the Gold-Eyed Earl, and most importantly, to make it public.

Such things required no proof, only their subsequent effects mattered.

With Emperor Friedrich dead, the Baselius family could no longer suppress the voices of their vassal lords. If Andria publicly admitted to being His Highness Randell’s lover, it would be tantamount to an informal marriage alliance between them. The Baselius family could then use this to show the lords of the Sasan Empire and the Radiant Knights that they had political channels to the core leadership of the southern expansion lords.

This was both an attempt to win over the northern lords and a provocative test of the Radiant Knights.

Weakening the Radiant Knights’ direct control over the northern empire was something all secular lords desired. But Victor did not want to get involved in the Sasan Empire’s messy affairs. The matter was too significant; he had to consult Sylvia and Aerie Fortress before making a decision, or at the very least, see the Radiant Knights’ reaction and what backup plan they had.

Clark had so readily allowed Victor and Andria to meet in private. Could the Radiant Knights truly be unprepared for the changes in the Sasan Empire?

Andria’s heart fluttered with unease. The love between Empress Verodica and Prince Draven had been her girlish fantasy, but she was no Spirit Knight. What she truly fantasized about was catching the eye of the Sun Elf. That encounter in the Greyhound Village forest was an endlessly savored memory, like a dream come true.

She herself couldn’t tell whether her bold declaration of love for Victor was a calculated move for her family’s interests, or if she was using her family’s interests as a pretext to “force a marriage” with her beloved.

Victor rubbed his nose and said helplessly, “It seems that every female knight I rescue ends up becoming my lover.”

Andria was overjoyed. She gave a beautiful smile, her elegant face as radiant as a peach blossom.

In truth, she had misunderstood. Victor couldn’t immediately refuse the olive branch extended by the Iron Mountain Empire; he could only delay.

Victor did not correct Andria’s misunderstanding. He only said, “The time is not yet right. Roland is in a dangerous situation. I must bring her back.”

Andria nodded and said apologetically, “My love, we also wanted to aid Princess Auguste, but we truly couldn’t keep up with her. His Highness Monstock also stopped me, saying I would only be a burden to Her Highness Auguste.”

Victor nodded. “I will go support Roland… Tell me, why did the Centaur Great Khan head west instead of east?”

Andria said, “Some time ago, we captured a Centaur Commander. The Beast-tongue Shaman in my service learned that when the Centaur Great Khan was gathering the centaur bands, he told them that a trial from the Earth Mother awaited them in the west. Whoever passed the trial would receive Mother Earth’s favor.”

Victor’s thoughts raced. As all the pieces of information clicked together, the course of events finally became clear.

The centaur bands were being hunted down by human cavalry, cornered and facing the possibility of total annihilation. But the bands weren’t thinking about the future of their race; they only wanted survival. The Centaur Great Khan rescued some of the bands and led them to attack the heartlands of the human empire. While this could certainly save more of his kind, it was a suicide mission for the Centaur warriors following him. So, he fabricated a nebulous hope—a trial from the Earth Mother in the west.

Many outstanding leaders had used such tricks to deceive their subordinates. But who would deceive themselves?

The Centaur Great Khan had broken through the siege at Little Calf Village Barracks. He could clearly have returned to the Eastern Wildlands, but he chose not to. He entered the Warton Great Plains and continued to run west, which meant he truly believed in the trial of the Earth Mother.

How could Mother Earth manifest herself? If she could, the Northern Barbarians would not have developed a faith in the Sky God. Therefore, Mother Earth had become an Ancient God of generalized ideology. She would never point out a trial to a single centaur.

Who had deceived the Centaur Great Khan?

It could only be a human wizard. The entire series of self-destructive actions by the Sidon Centaurs was secretly manipulated by human wizards.

At present, the biggest beneficiary of the beastmen war was the Radiant Knights.

But that raised another question. Assuming a wizard organization secretly controlled by the Radiant Knights had orchestrated the suicidal beastmen war, the Sasan Emperor’s death was an unacceptable accident for the Radiant Knights.

The biggest beneficiary then became the Baselius family.

If the wizard organization was taking orders from the Radiant Knights while secretly contacting the Baselius family to seek freedom from the Inquisition’s enslavement, then everything would make sense.

Including the assassination attempt in the Giantwood Forest!

Victor had suspected the mysterious assassin was connected to an evil god, his motives unfathomable. But now, Victor believed the Baselius family had leaked his whereabouts.

He had once tested the Baselius Duke with a cold and wary attitude.

The test had finally borne fruit!

With her promotion to Legendary, Auroxia had the confidence, and the need, to have a showdown with the Gold-Eyed Earl.

That Beast-tongue Shaman wasn’t some wandering wizard Andria had taken in; he was a member of the wizard organization. By exposing this fact through Andria, Auroxia was indicating that she, too, wanted to know what had really happened in the Giantwood Forest.

In other words, the Baselius family was not involved in the assassination.

The Baselius family had turned around and sold out the wizard organization to Victor, throwing in a Stormwind female knight for good measure.

As long as Victor was willing, Auroxia had a hundred ways to make Andria “voluntarily” leave the Iron Mountain Empire and become his concubine. The prerequisite was that they sit down and have a proper talk.

If Victor refused Andria’s advances, it would mean there was nothing to talk about. In that case, he could forget about ever learning the wizard organization’s secrets from Auroxia’s lips.

Although Andria had already borne two excellent children and could no longer have anymore, Gambis had Konjac potions. Another Stormwind female knight in the Centaur Hills wasn’t a bad thing. Besides, Victor accepting Andria was equivalent to gaining the support of the Iron Mountain Empire, which was highly beneficial to the great southern empire.

Auroxia was confident that Victor would not refuse.

On the other hand, publicizing the relationship between Andria and the Gold-Eyed Earl was certainly a provocative test of the Radiant Knights. If their reaction was intense, Auroxia could pin all the blame on Andria and then kick her over to Victor’s side. This would clear her of any connection, show the right attitude, and still maintain a tenuous link to Gambis, making the Radiant Knights hesitate to act for fear of collateral damage.

Victor didn’t know if Andria was simply foolish, or if Auroxia was just too clever.

Truly a character even Sylvia is wary of. Her influence is as subtle and silent as the spring rain!

With a beauty in his arms, Victor’s mind was filled with the countless schemes behind Auroxia’s cute and beautiful facade.

…Just you wait. The day I empty out your vault with my rock bricks, you’ll be the one crying without tears!

The most pressing matter was to support the brazenly audacious Roland… Victor gently pushed away the boneless-soft Andria and said, “Where is that Beast-tongue Shaman now? You don’t have to tell me. When Roland and I return, I want to see him.”

Andria quietly breathed a sigh of relief. She honestly didn’t know where Auroxia had hidden the Beast-tongue Shaman.

“Alright, when you return, I’ll bring him to see you.” The countess bit her red lip and said with a touch of shyness, “You have to give me a partner ring first… only then will I satisfy your request.”

A mysterious and elegant smile played on Victor’s lips, his eyes deep and profound. “My love, you will certainly get your ring. I promise…”

…Someone has already prepared the ring… he added silently in his heart.

Chapter 671: The Enmity in the Blood

In the depths of the Great Plains, dark clouds hung low. A fine drizzle fell from the sky, and the withered yellow grass had, at some unknown point, become coated in a layer of white frost.

A majestic wild bison pawed restlessly at the ground, its eyes as red as its hide. It lowered its massive head, showing off its sharp, sturdy horns. The muscles on its back bulged, tensed, and it snorted out clouds of white mist, already in an attack posture.

The red-furred wild bull was a hegemon of the Great Plains. This bull was in its prime, weighing a full two tons, a behemoth even among its own kind. Any rival that dared to challenge it had met a disastrous defeat.

The Season of Water was the season of procreation, and the bull had become exceptionally fierce and combative. It had eyes only for pretty cows and hated all outsiders, especially long-hooved, long-horned creatures.

And the big fellow across from it had both hooves and horns.

The enraged bull had never seen a Centaur before, and its barren mind couldn’t distinguish a Centaur from another bull. As its opponent ambled closer, ignoring the bull’s warnings, it could no longer contain its inner rage and charged at the enemy.

The earth trembled beneath the bull’s hooves. A bloody, excited smile appeared on the Centaur Chiliarch’s flat, ugly face. When the two-ton beast charged right up to it, the Centaur pushed off its hind hooves, smashing its heavy, refined iron spiked club down on the wild bull’s solid skull.

With a dull thud, the battle-hardened wild bull’s head was pulverized, sending a spray of blood and bone fragments flying. The Centaur then nonchalantly lifted the creature’s body, with all its immense momentum, into the air with a single hand.

The Chiliarch stuck out its tongue, licking away the bull’s blood that had spattered near its mouth. Carrying the two-ton prey, it ran into a small grove of short trees a short distance behind it.

Inside the grove, two other beautifully built Centaurs were lying on the ground, resting.

“Kweglo, Polta, this prairie is the Earth Mother’s masterpiece. It should belong to the Centaurs.” The Chiliarch tossed the spiked club to the ground, reached out and tore open the wild bull’s tough, thick hide, and pulled the steaming, massive heart from its chest cavity, offering it to the Great Khan, his respected brother.

The Great Khan stood up and accepted the fresh bull’s heart with both hands, chewing on it in great bites as fresh blood dripped from the corners of his mouth. Only then did the Centaur Chiliarch tear off a bull’s leg and share the prey’s flesh and blood with his other brother.

After devouring the entire heart, the Legendary Centaur Polta was even more certain he had come to the right place. And yet, his psychic intuition was telling him this was wrong, that he should run east to find his Alita.

Two months ago, he and Alita had led tens of thousands of Centaur warriors in a breakout, setting out on the road home. Due to a lack of food, the Centaurs followed tradition and scattered to forage, but the human cavalry pursued them relentlessly. After a series of fierce battles, Polta and Alita had almost reached their eastern territory, but by then, the warriors of the Whitetail tribe had all dispersed.

The scattered Centaurs no longer recognized Polta as their Great Khan. Even the Whitetail Centaur warriors began to question Alita’s decisions, saying she should not have killed the Goblin shaman.

Polta wavered. He, too, doubted Alita’s wisdom, thinking that the Earth Mother’s trial the Goblin shaman spoke of was truly in the northwest of the human Empire.

After rescuing several groups of their kin, Polta and Alita had gathered more than twenty thousand Whitetail and Black-hoof Centaur warriors, but the problem of food shortages once again became apparent.

An agitated Polta decided to follow his own psychic intuition. He would summon a group of Warriors and head to the northwest of the human Empire to undergo the Earth Mother’s trial.

Alita tried her best to dissuade him, but Polta was adamant. The mare had no choice but to, in her capacity as an Earth Mother shaman, announce to the Centaur warriors that the Great Khan Polta had been summoned by the Earth Mother and would go to the human Empire to accept her trial. Any Centaur who followed Polta would receive the Earth Mother’s favor.

The shaman’s declaration received the full support of the old Whitetail khan and the Black-hoof Chiliarch. Polta knew in his heart that they wanted to turn back and rescue more of their tribe’s warriors.

This also seemed like something a Great Khan ought to do.

Polta wasn’t sure what the Earth Mother’s trial entailed, but he yearned to attack the humans’ lair and make those human cavalry who hunted and killed Centaurs feel the same pain of having their kin slaughtered!

After killing two powerful humans, Polta’s strength grew rapidly. The number of Centaur warriors he gathered also increased. In just over twenty days, he felt a power he had never known before.

However, just as Polta was at his peak, the overconfident Centaurs suffered a crushing defeat. Human warriors surged into a small barracks like a tide. They came wave after wave, fearless of death, and slaughtered more than ten thousand Centaurs to the last.

Polta led the remaining Centaurs out of the battlefield. His intuition told him to flee east. If he followed the Goblin shaman’s revelation and searched for the Earth Mother’s trial northwest of the human lair, he would have no chance of survival.

But was a Great Khan who returned from a disastrous defeat still a Great Khan?

It was precisely because of this defeat that Polta was all the more desperate to obtain the Earth Mother’s power. At that critical moment, he remembered Alita’s words before he left:

“Don’t trust the goblin’s prophecy, trust your own intuition. You are the Earth Mother’s favored child, not the goblin.”

Polta couldn’t just run back east in disgrace, nor could he believe the goblin liar’s words any longer. He chose the southwest direction, which offered a chance of survival.

Upon entering the Warton Great Plains, the surviving Centaurs no longer had any doubt about the Earth Mother’s trial Polta had spoken of. This was a new world, with no annoying towering hills, no dense, difficult-to-navigate forests, and no detestable human fortifications. There was plump prey everywhere. This must be the place where the Earth Mother had hidden her power for the Centaurs.

The powerful humans pursued them relentlessly, and the Centaurs were short on javelins. Polta had no choice but to have everyone scatter and find their own way out. Before they dispersed, the Centaurs made an agreement: any Centaur who made it back home would bring news of the land of the Earth Mother’s trial to the tribe; whoever passed the Earth Mother’s trial and obtained the power that belonged to the Centaurs would be the king of all Centaurs!

The farther west Polta went, the bleaker the future seemed. The danger of death was like the dark clouds in the sky; no matter how far he ran, he could not find a single ray of sunlight.

The Earth Mother’s trial must be dangerous. Only the strongest and most fearless Centaur can obtain the power She has hidden… I must become the king of the Centaurs!

Polta gnawed the bull’s heart in his hand clean, then his forelimbs’ claws picked up a six-meter iron spear from the ground. Taking it in hand, he walked out of the small grove without looking back. “You two eat a few more bites… keep running west, run far. I’ll come find you later.”

A golden centaur looked up in astonishment and asked, “Kweglo, has that human female’s helper arrived? Why can’t I feel it?”

Polta said gravely, “He is still far… Don’t worry, he cannot defeat me!”

The two Centaur Chiliarchs heard the solemnity in Polta’s voice and understood that not only could they not help their Great Khan brother, but staying behind would only get them killed by that terrifying human female.

Without hesitation, they dropped their food, picked up their iron spiked clubs, and charged through the short trees, fleeing to the west.

Polta walked out of the grove and saw a slender, graceful figure strolling toward him. She wore a magnificent suit of dark gold armor and held a long metal whip. The hazy rain and mist enveloped her body, making her seem dreamlike and illusory, real yet虚, making it impossible to grasp her distance and position.

This human female had been following them the whole time. No matter how Polta and his two brothers ran, they couldn’t shake her. The two sides had clashed no less than a hundred times. She had nearly killed his two Centaur brothers on several occasions, but Polta’s timely aid had saved them from their deadly fate. Eventually, whenever the human female came looking for trouble, Polta would hold her off alone, letting his brothers leave first. In any case, she couldn’t hurt him at all.

Today, however, Polta felt a sharp presence coming from afar, so piercing that his very soul tingled with a faint pain.

The Legendary Centaur’s gaze was fixed on another direction. Feeling ignored, Roland was furious. A verdant glow arose in her jade-green eyes behind her mask. With a light tap of her delicate war boots on the grass, she instantly crossed an arc of thirty meters. Her long, green-glowing whip tore through the air, lashing toward the Centaur’s back.

Even a red-furred wild bull would have been cleaved in two by the sharp Mithril whip, but Polta didn’t even try to dodge. He had fought this powerful human female over a hundred times and had never once been able to avoid her whip. At first, he would be sent into a towering rage by the lashes, but after taking enough of them, he got used to it.

Crack!… Sizzle!…

The Water Sprite’s Sigh landed on the Centaur’s yellowish back, but the ground beneath his feet split open into a deep trench, from which a cold mist spread, freezing into frost.

Compared to the force of the whip, the chill the human female wielded was even more terrifying. In the beginning, her continuous lashes had caused Polta considerable harm, but he had gradually grown accustomed to that as well.

Unable to dodge the human female’s whip, Polta went purely on the offensive, holding his long spear and relentlessly thrusting and sweeping at his opponent. Although it was impossible to hit his enemy and he was constantly being whipped, Polta drew a continuous stream of power from the depths of the earth to restore his stamina and drive out the bone-chilling cold. As long as he forced his opponent to keep her green glow active, she would retreat on her own once she grew tired.

Initially, Polta would be whipped by the powerful human female for two hours. Now, she could last for at least four, and her whips were growing colder and colder.

Polta had grown stronger, and so had the human female.

In a long, drawn-out battle, whoever didn’t improve would die at the hands of the other.

The Centaur Great Khan brandished his long spear, viciously stirring the air. A wailing, whistling turbulence swept up blades of grass and raindrops with terrifying momentum. Roland’s laughter was like the tinkling of silver bells. Her figure flickered through the turbulence, as graceful as a butterfly flitting among flowers. The Mithril whip struck like a phantom, sometimes hard, sometimes soft, cracking against the Centaur’s body.

Fissures formed and patches of frost appeared beneath the Centaur’s hooves, but a shroud of void water element had finally formed around Roland’s Mithril armor.

On the plains, a tall, straight figure was rapidly approaching. Before long, he appeared at the edge of the battlefield.

Roland lashed out viciously twice more and stabbed three times before flashing back in retreat. Polta did not pursue. He stood his ground, spear held firmly before his chest, his almost tangible gaze locked on the new, formidable enemy.

He wore dark cyan leather armor, carried a warbow on his back, and had two longswords hanging from his waist. His hair was blacker than the storm clouds overhead, his gaze as sharp as a knife, and his ears were actually a bit pointed, which looked particularly ugly.

Polta had never seen such an ugly creature. And it was not only ugly, but also fierce and exceptionally powerful. The Centaur’s heart was instantly filled with a particular loathing for this enemy, wanting to kill him immediately, yet it also felt a sense of apprehension, as if it had encountered a natural predator.

Victor observed the God-favored Centaur up close. Its whole body was a vibrant yellow, its form beautifully and symmetrically built, like a work of art carved from glazed rock, giving one the sense that it was not a creature of flesh and blood. Yet, Victor had two completely opposite feelings about this Centaur.

Objectively, it displayed the perfection of an extraordinary life form, a masterpiece of nature that perfectly conformed to the law of aesthetics. Subjectively, it was ugly, fierce, crude, and clumsy, filling Victor with disgust and contempt, making him want to get rid of it as soon as possible.

Victor couldn’t help but frown. He couldn’t be sure if this was the enmity of his elven bloodline toward Centaurs, or if he was being influenced by the Legendary Centaur’s Touch of the Mind, creating a subjective illusion.

This monster’s hostility was palpable. Its will to kill him was so strong that Victor could feel the intensely hateful killing intent even with his eyes closed.

Likewise, Victor really wanted to slaughter this Centaur!

The Touch of the Mind had myriad uses. Interfering with an opponent’s mind and amplifying their subjective emotions to cause them to make mistakes was a relatively advanced application.

Victor did not have this ability. X-3 gave him an absolutely rational combat mindset. Never making a mistake was the perfect counter to this kind of Touch of the Mind.

Out of caution, Victor engaged X-3 slightly, purging the subjective emotions of disgust and bloodlust. The ugly Centaur once again became an objectively existing Centaur.

Roland pushed up her Mithril faceplate, revealing her stunningly beautiful face. She snapped angrily, “What are you doing here?”

“Are you surprised?” Victor glanced at her and asked innocently.

Roland was speechless for a moment. She stomped her foot and warned with some exasperation, “This is my prey, you’re not allowed to take him!”

“I’m not fighting you for it. I just want to bring the princess of Gambis back in one piece,” Victor said calmly, his eyes still locked on the Centaur Great Khan opposite him.

Roland flew into a rage, her hands like claws as she tried to pinch Victor’s ear. “You think I’ll lose to a stupid, clumsy Centaur lord? He doesn’t have an army with him!” she said furiously.

Victor sidestepped, dodging Roland’s slender, jade-like ‘claws’. He said calmly, “The Centaur’s body is clumsy, full of openings in front of you, but its defensive talent is indestructible and its offensive talent is unstoppable. Otherwise, they would have gone extinct long ago. Besides being able to transfer damage to the ground, the Armor of the Earth can also gradually adapt to elemental damage. You haven’t been able to take it down after all this time, so its Water Elemental Resistance is already very high. Its ‘Earth’s Mighty Strike’ talent can borrow the power of the earth. As long as its opponent is connected to the ground and it lands a hit, the force of the ‘Earth’s Mighty Strike’ will travel through the target’s body and into the ground. It’s unavoidable, equivalent to taking a full internal implosion.”

“You can’t hurt it, but if it hits you just once, you’re finished.”

Roland flicked her whip, making a crisp crack in the air, and sneered, “You seem to know a lot about Centaur talents, don’t you?”

The Alchemical militia’s Will Side contained detailed information on two types of Centaurs: Forest Centaurs with water element talents, and Centaurs with earth element talents. Victor was indeed very knowledgeable about the Centaurs’ racial talents, and he marveled at how “Armor of the Earth” and “Earth’s Mighty Strike” complemented each other, making them nigh invincible.

He explained nonchalantly, “Legendary-rank Centaurs are very rare, but the Church still has historical records of them… Even Gold Knights cannot withstand their heavy blows. Legendary-rank Earth Knights can… In the limited number of recorded kills of Legendary Centaurs in history, it was either a Legendary Earth Knight or a Legendary Gale Knight, but never a Legendary Raging Wave Knight. That’s because water element damage isn’t explosive enough. It’s difficult to deal enough damage to exceed a Legendary Centaur’s threshold all at once, which instead just continuously increases its Water Elemental Resistance.”

Roland wrinkled her pert nose and pouted, “So only you can do it, is that it?”

“…Obviously.” Victor stared at the Centaur Great Khan, which was on high alert. His tone was gentle, but his eyes were grim as he said, “You’ve already skewed its elemental resistance towards void water element, which is perfect… for me to slaughter it.”

Chapter 672: A Battle Across Time and Space (Part 1)

Victor and Polta’s gazes met, their killing intent palpable.

“Still claim you’re not trying to steal my kill?” Roland teased, the Mithril long whip in her hand snapping taut, transforming into a nine-meter-long sword that she brought down on the Centaur Great Khan’s head.

Polta raised his Adamantine longspear to parry, but the element crystal on the hilt of the “Water Sprite’s Sigh” flared with brilliant light, and the Knight’s lance snapped in two.

Roland’s whip struck the Centaur’s shoulder, and with a furious roar, he hurled the two broken halves of his spear at Victor.

I wasn’t the one who hit you, so why are you throwing that at me?

Victor cursed internally. His feet remained planted as his body swayed rapidly left and right, leaving behind a blurry afterimage. The broken spear shafts seemed to pass straight through his chest, shrinking into two black dots in an instant before vanishing completely.

Roland raised her platinum-gold eyebrows and said, both reserved and smug, “I wasn’t even using my full strength… To be honest, I’m using this Legendary Centaur to hone a Transcendent sword skill.” She bared her snow-white canine teeth and added fiercely, “If you dare ruin this for me, I’ll fall out with you. When we get back to Aerie Fortress, I’ll hide your and Catherine’s daughter.”

Victor pressed his lips together, feeling that Roland was perfectly capable of doing such a thing. He gave a dry laugh. “Your Highness misunderstands. I only intended to help you take it down.”

“I don’t need your help; you’ll only get in the way.” Roland shook her head, her expression turning serious as she explained, “You don’t have elemental perception, and you’re too fast. If we attack at the same time, we can’t coordinate flawlessly. It would actually be more dangerous.”

It was already evident that the Centaur Great Khan’s Touch of the Mind excelled at manipulating its opponents’ emotions to create openings and mistakes. Victor was not a High-ranked Knight, but his strength surpassed Roland’s. The Legendary Centaur would exploit the disadvantages of them teaming up. Although Victor was confident he wouldn’t make a mistake in battle, he wasn’t so sure about Roland. As long as he cared about her safety, or she about his, one of them was bound to be distracted in the heat of battle.

And a moment of distraction in front of a Legendary Centaur was an exceedingly dangerous thing.

Victor and Roland glanced at each other, then simultaneously turned their heads away, thinking the same thing:

What a hindrance!

The two of them now stood facing the unarmed Polta. The three auras formed distinct, incompatible barriers.

Roland, with her restless nature, was the first to speak. “Are we just going to stare at each other?”

You can’t even hurt it now. What’s your plan? Fight until next year?

Victor complained internally. His slightly pointed ears twitched as he heard Caligula and Narsen rapidly approaching.

“Master, Aka is here! Aka carried the big stupid bear here too!” Caligula shouted as he ran to a stop a hundred meters away.

Narsen’s old face flushed red. He leaped off the big simpleton’s back, strode forward with two Adamantine beheading swords in hand, and bowed. “Good day, Your Highness Auguste… My lord, Aka and I arrived first. The four household guards will be here in a little while.”

Roland and the Centaur had been circling each other, fighting as they moved, traveling from the eastern part of the grasslands to the west. Using his Tracking Intuition, Victor had led his men in a straight line, running for a day and a night without rest to finally catch up. The Alchemical Soldiers had slowed them down; although they had ample stamina and physical qualities comparable to mid-rank Bronze Knights, Victor felt increasingly that his current alchemical creatures could no longer keep up with him and were only suitable as basic troops. Fortunately, Victor didn’t have to worry about their lives. The moment he spotted Roland and the Centaur from a distance, he had sprinted ahead alone, with Caligula carrying Narsen close behind, leaving the four Alchemical Soldiers behind.

Seeing Narsen and Caligula arrive, Victor had an idea. He pointed to the west and said, “There are two Centaur Chiliarchs up ahead… Narsen, you and Aka take on one of them. The other is for the Princess. I will handle things here personally.”

Narsen was thrilled. “As you command, my lord!” he declared emphatically.

Tucking his beheading swords under his arm, he jumped back onto Caligula’s back and said loudly, “Aka, you’re faster than me. Let’s go after them. Don’t let the Centaurs get away.”

Hearing Narsen praise his speed, Caligula was overjoyed. He took off on his two thick legs, shouting as he ran, “Aka is faster than Narsen, and Aka is very brave!”

Roland stood her ground, arms crossed, a cold smile on her lips. “Aren’t you going to give chase? Aren’t you afraid those two Centaur Chiliarchs will kill your trusted subordinate?”

Caligula was not the same as before. Master Ron had implanted him with a level-seven Heroism Art, which, combined with the seed of holy power from Father Miller, was pushing Aka’s evolution toward the Radiant God of War.

With Aka there, Victor wasn’t worried about Narsen’s situation. He smiled and said, “Narsen needs a trial against a Centaur Chiliarch. I must ask Your Highness to deal with the other one.”

Roland rolled her eyes beautifully, saying in dissatisfaction, “You’re the fast one. You go deal with that Centaur Chiliarch and then come back to help me.”

“You’re too impatient right now. The moment I’m gone, you’ll definitely launch an all-out attack on the monster. If something happens to you, how am I supposed to explain it to Catherine?” Victor said faintly.

Roland patted her breastplate and said in a sweet voice, “I promise I won’t do anything rash. You have to trust me.”

“…I don’t.” Victor shook his head repeatedly.

Roland was momentarily speechless with frustration. Just as she was about to pull rank as his Tutor or liege lord, Victor spoke again. “This Centaur currently has very high water element resistance, making it difficult for you to handle. I can change its elemental resistance to wind elemental resistance. Once you’ve killed the fleeing Centaur Chiliarch, you can come back and deal with this one.”

“Really?” Roland blinked her beautiful, clear eyes, her face full of suspicion. “You have to promise you’ll leave this monster for me.”

Victor said earnestly, “I give you my word in the name of the Protector of the Kingdom. I will not obstruct Princess Auguste’s Path of the Knight, and I will do my utmost to keep this monster occupied for you, Your Highness, and prevent its escape.”

A slight smile touched Roland’s lips. “Alright,” she said joyfully. “I, the Princess, will trust you this once… This Centaur is clumsy, but it’s incredibly strong. Be careful not to get killed. We can wait for Tutor to come back to finish it.”

With that, she turned and sped away, quickly disappearing where the grass met the sky.

Polta didn’t understand human language. The human female and the ugly, fierce male had been chattering for ages, clearly underestimating the favored child of the Earth Mother, the Great Khan of the Centaurs. Now, the human female was heading west to hunt his brothers, but Polta cared for none of it. His mind was focused entirely on the powerful enemy before him.

The moment Roland was out of sight, Victor felt an immense pressure from the Centaur Great Khan. He was rather surprised. A regional overlord who remained unfazed by an enemy’s contempt, who didn’t grow anxious when his confidants were being hunted down—how could a beastman possess such composure?

It could only be said that its entire spiritual will was focused on the battle before it, without any distractions.

Anyone else would have felt their spirit waver in the face of the Legendary Centaur’s pure conviction for battle. But Victor’s absolutely rational combat will was immune to such subjective mental interference. The X-3 activated spontaneously, entering an Overlimit state. In his impassive eyes, there was only the most objective, most precise reality.

Victor unslung his warbow, tossed it onto the grass, and drew two Adamantine longswords. With a flicker of his body, he appeared before the Legendary beastman.

The Centaur’s intense hostility might have come from a deep thrumming in its bloodline, while Victor’s own soul, which pursued freedom, strove to overcome the ancient will within his elven bloodline.

This beastman—he could kill it, or he could spare it.

Victor had no intention of breaking his word to Roland. If he slew the Centaur Great Khan, he would be denying Roland an opportunity to explore her Path of the Knight, and that would create a major grudge. That was why he had discarded his sharpest Saron Demon Iron arrows, choosing instead to use the Azure Blade to alter the Legendary Centaur’s elemental resistance and create an opening for Roland.

There were two ways to slay a Legendary-rank Centaur. The first was to get all four of its hooves off the ground, which would naturally dispel its highly semi-elementalized Armor of the Earth, leaving it vulnerable to fatal physical damage. This was, of course, exceedingly difficult. Tournans had once managed to unnerve the Centaur Orogar with the help of two Stormwind Paladins, which allowed him to knock it off its feet.

Neither Victor nor Roland knew Tournans’s Touch of the Mind, so he could only use the cruder method. The damage transfer of the Armor of the Earth had a limit, absorbing eighty percent of the damage at most. By inflicting a ferocious assault that dealt damage exceeding its limit, it could still be killed.

If Roland was still unable to defeat the Legendary Centaur after he changed its elemental resistance, then Victor would find an opportunity to finish the powerful monster with a Tracking Magic Arrow.

Crossed beams of indigo sword-light slashed at the waist of Polta’s upper body. Two long, thin, intersecting cracks appeared in the ground beneath its hooves, as if sliced by sharp blades. They extended for more than ten meters, and furious gales howled up from them, shredding the dry grass and sweeping across the land like a hurricane.

A sharp pain shot through Polta’s body, and the taste of rust filled his mouth. His internal organs had been gashed by the sharp, condensed void wind element. Forcibly swallowing the blood that had risen in his throat, he channeled the earth element through his four limbs to continually mend the lacerations within. The enraged Centaur Great Khan spun around, swinging a fist at the hated enemy who had wounded him.

Centaurs had claws on their forelimbs and hooves on their hindlimbs. Compared to long-limbed herbivores with hooves, their body structure was closer to that of great felines—flexible and agile. But a Centaur’s agility was laughable in the eyes of a human Knight. The area to the rear of their equine body was a blind spot. As long as one stayed in that position, sticking close and circling in sync with the Centaur, even a human soldier could leave a powerful Centaur helpless.

But Polta was a mighty beastman who had ignited the fire of the mind and possessed the Touch of the Mind. Pivoting on his left foreclaw, he spun his body rapidly, his hind legs driving him forward. Power surged through his entire frame, a single fluid motion, as he lunged at Victor, who had just completed his strike.

The Legendary Centaur’s spine was the bow, his fist the arrow. A single pounce caused the air to crackle with the rumble of thunder.

Yet this lightning-fast, near-perfect blow hit nothing but air.

Victor fluttered and flew gracefully. The chaotic air currents were instantly tamed as they brushed against him, gently lifting him and setting him down on the Centaur’s rump.

He was like a weightless feather. No matter how the Centaur kicked, spun, or swept its snake-like tail, it was all for naught. Combining the Body of Gossamer with his Wind Walk talent, Victor controlled the air currents with fine precision, as if he had truly grown invisible wings, allowing him to circle and dance around the Centaur’s flanks.

The power of the Azure Blade gradually climbed to its peak, striking the Centaur Great Khan’s yellowish body again and again. More clean-cut slits appeared on the ground. Sharp blades of wind howled and raged, indiscriminately striking Polta’s abdomen before flowing down his limbs into the ground, only to erupt once more.

From a distance, it looked as if Victor and Polta were engulfed in a hurricane. But the hurricane treated the Son of the Wind with gentleness, while showing the Centaur its raging, destructive side.

Polta’s four limbs were connected to the earth, steady as bedrock, and the sharp wind blades could not harm him. But the piercing void wind element caused him excruciating pain. Out of pure Centaur instinct, he began to gallop, trying to break out of the hurricane’s domain.

But how could that be possible?

Victor himself was the source of the Raging Wind Domain. He floated along with the Centaur, every stroke of his Azure Blade, every turbulent gust of wind becoming his ally. The wind enveloped him, he called to the wind, and he danced across the grasslands with the Legendary Centaur, crossing meadows, fording rivers, and climbing low hills.

The battle became a contest of endurance and will. Victor’s understanding of the wind grew deeper and deeper, and his Raging Wind Domain gradually took shape. The Raging Wind, which could originally only be sustained for about thirty minutes, had now lasted for over two hours. He had chased the Centaur Great Khan for over two hundred kilometers, and not only was he not exhausted, but the domain had become stable.

In the midst of this exhilarating battle, the X-3 calculated the data from every attack, finding the minimum balance point between sustaining the Raging Wind Domain and recovering his vigor.

Through this battle, his Moon Elf Talent Tree underwent a comprehensive and in-depth test. With the help of the X-3, Victor optimized and restructured his combat style. The potential of all his elven-aspected talents was fully unlocked, making them more efficient and more powerful.

Victor had gained much, but his opponent was quietly undergoing a qualitative change.

Earth has form; it is heavy, enduring, and silent. Wind is formless; it is light, wild, and soaring. As his wind element resistance rose, the concentration of his earth element grew.

Polta did not understand this principle. His entire mind and will were focused on resisting the wind’s lacerating invasion. As he ran, the earth element gathered within him through his powerful limbs, mending his wounds and providing an endless source of power.

The ground the Centaur trod upon cracked, only to slowly mend itself. Ancient memories roiled in his bloodline, and countless fractured images made Polta feel as if he had become a giant, eight-legged Centaur.

His body was a hundred meters tall, and he possessed infinite power. Where He trod, swamps turned to soil, rivers to rock. He galloped forward in a fury, as if trying to run to the ends of the world.

A silver moon hung low in the sky, ten times larger than any moon Polta had ever seen. Its pristine light shone down upon a great silver tree, falling like rain through its leaves. Beneath the tree, a Centaur bathed in the wave-like moonlight, its yellowish-brown body turning pure white.

The eight-legged Centaur roared at the one under the tree. “Lokris, child of the Earth Mother, my own brother, are you betraying me?”

The white Centaur seemed to be in a deep sleep, showing no reaction to the thunderous roar of the eight-legged Centaur.

The eight-legged Centaur whinnied with joy, crying out, “Lokris, you’ve been trapped by Frey! I’ll tear down this Moon Tree and save you!”

He slammed His foreclaws into the ground. The earth roiled and the mountains shook. Countless lush trees fell into sinkholes, but the moonlight became incredibly resilient, firmly protecting the ancient tree that absorbed its essence.

A graceful figure leaped from the silver moon. She was unclad, her hair and eyes as deep as the night sky. Her features were exquisite, her ears long and elegantly pointed. She stood between the eight-legged Centaur and the ancient tree.

Through the eyes of the eight-legged Centaur, Polta looked at the female born of the moon and felt an immense revulsion, a revulsion just like the one he felt for his sharp-eared enemy.

The eight-legged Centaur was stunned, then roared in fury, “Frey! How dare you steal my mother’s divine power of procreation from Lokris!”

“My name is Freya, Daughter of the Sun, wife of Frey, Goddess of the Moon, and I shall be the Progenitor of All Elves.” The female who called herself the Moon Goddess raised a beautiful, slender hand. Moonlight and wind formed a longsword between Her fingers. She spoke coldly to the Centaur:

“Gulores, stop. Go back. Otherwise, I will slay the fourth offspring of Mother Earth.”

“Never!”

The earth, the mountains, the rocks, and the soil answered Gulores’s resolve. A stone bridge appeared beneath His hooves, connecting to the domain of moonlight. As the Centaur progenitor began to charge, the Moon Goddess raised a hand and pointed. Indigo wind bound Gulores’s hooves like ropes, causing him to fall to the ground, unable to move.

Wielding the Sword of Moonlight, Freya severed Gulores’s four legs one by one. Yellowish-brown blood flowed from the stumps, turning into hard, earth-yellow rock.

“Goddess Freya, please stop.”

A gentle voice came from beneath the Moon Tree. The pure white Centaur walked forward with light steps. He looked with pity upon his brother, who was now bound to the earth, his divine power depleted. He said, “Gulores, it was my own will to have my mother’s divine power stripped from me. Don’t you understand? Taelon Ruier needs to evolve more of the world’s Laws. He no longer allows us to exist in this world. We can only follow the will of the Creation Giant Ape, procreate more life, and transition from elemental deities to mortal beings, entrusting our will to our bloodline descendants.”

“Our mother has fallen asleep and no longer answers our prayers. Frey is the only ancient being left, but his time is running out… I prayed to him for help, and he answered me. From now on, I am Lokriss, Freya’s ally, and my descendants will be allies of the Elves.”

The elegant white Centaur carried the Moon Goddess into the depths of the forest.

Gulores finally broke free from the pull of the rock. His mountain-like body had shrunk by half. He stared with hateful eyes in the direction Freya and Lokriss had disappeared and roared:

“I could have been eternal… Freya, Lokriss, I curse you! My offspring will be enemies of Frey’s blood-kin and the descendants of the Betrayer for all generations!”

Polta had awakened the ancient memories within his bloodline and mastered a portion of his ancestor’s power. He stomped on the ground, and an invisible force field brought the raging winds to a dead stop. He laughed aloud at his enemy, who had floated to a distant spot.

“I understand now. You are the trial given to me by Mother Earth. If I kill you, I can reclaim the power of my ancestor and become the king of all Centaurs!”

Victor’s expression remained as impassive as ever. His eyes had turned completely dark gold as a flood of data presented itself in his mind. His opponent had undergone a qualitative change, prompting the X-3 to recalculate and adjust.

At some point, a gap appeared in the dark, heavy clouds, and a single ray of pristine, silver moonlight shone down on Victor. His black hair began to turn gold against his will, and his spiritual power flared like a blazing fire, so intensely that it caused the X-3’s operations to stutter.

The Silver Moon Secret Art, which pointed toward the Sun Elf, was quietly resonating with his bloodline, yet Victor himself seemed completely oblivious.

However, the clouds soon closed again, and the moonlight was gone. Victor thought he heard a sigh from a time long past, an emotion that shifted from regret to helplessness, and finally to resolute abandonment.

The X-3, now running smoothly again, automatically classified this sound as meaningless wind noise, instantly weakening it and leaving Victor untroubled.

A cold raindrop fell on Victor’s face. Immediately after, the rain began to pour down in sheets, a curtain of water shrouding the plains.

This year’s rainy season had arrived early.

Chapter 673: A Battle Across Time and Space (Middle)

The freezing rain blotted out the moon, plunging the plains into a darkness so complete you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face.

Victor’s dim vision was limited to a range of just over seven hundred meters, but X-3 could integrate the echoes of sound into a clear picture.

In truth, this wasn’t entirely necessary. The Legendary Centaur’s body glowed with a faint yellow light, making it exceptionally conspicuous in the darkness.

A cyan-black airflow swirled around his Dragon-Lizard armor, blowing away the rain and leaving Victor bone-dry. Yet he noticed the rain flowing down the centaur’s body and onto the ground. If not for personally witnessing the centaur stomp the ground and dispel his Raging Wind Domain, the strange force field from moments before would have seemed like nothing more than an illusion.

Did centaurs also possess domain abilities?

The knowledge Victor possessed held no such records. This was clearly a brand-new centaur Bloodline talent, one that could faintly suppress his Raging Wind Domain.

Once the Raging Wind Domain was nullified, the Legendary Centaur would close the melee gap. If it cleverly utilized the strange force field Victor was unfamiliar with, it might even have a chance to defeat him in a single blow.

However, even without the Raging Wind Domain, as a Legendary Swordsman with extraordinary agility, Victor’s advantage in close combat was still clear.

The opportunity to use a particularly durable centaur to perfect his own domain, re-optimize his Bloodline talent, and enhance his combat skills was exceedingly rare.

Encounters with other types of powerful monsters were often decided in an instant. Only a Legendary Centaur could fight Victor for an entire day.

Moreover, Victor had an instinctive thirst for new knowledge and information. His ever-victorious combat techniques and the perfection of his Mind Bloodline secret art all relied on X-3’s deductions and calculations. This, in turn, was built on a foundation of understanding his opponents and mastering knowledge.

Victor decided to continue testing the Centaur Great Khan’s new talent and the limits of his Raging Wind Domain. The cyan-black airflow surrounding his body abruptly expanded, forming a powerful vortex with a radius of 2.3 meters, perfectly within the range of his Blind Sense talent.

This was a measure of caution. Within his Blind Sense range, Victor’s Apocalypse and Raging Wind were at their most powerful.

The Raging Wind Domain could be used for both close and long-range combat. Several violent air currents, carrying the sweeping freezing rain, lashed toward the centaur’s eyes.

Driven by the gale, the dense raindrops were as powerful as crossbow bolts. They would have riddled a strong wild red bull, but as they struck the centaur’s body with a barrage of cracks, they failed to cause the slightest harm.

The freezing rain lashed its eyes, and the wind choked its mouth and nose. Polta’s ears were filled with the howl of the gale, but its mind was locked onto its target. It raised its forelegs and clawed viciously at the enemy concealed by the wind.

Only after lashing out did Polta realize that this powerful elf had been toying with it all along, not using his true strength. Its strike, which should have shattered the air and stirred up turbulence, now didn’t even produce an air blast. The whistling wind was soul-shaking, and Polta actually felt a long-lost resistance in the chaotic storm. Worst of all, the “storm” the elf created caused endless water droplets to pelt its body and pool on the grass beneath its hooves, turning the ground into a quagmire.

Polta was right on top of this “quagmire,” at the center of the “storm.”

It had never hated the annual freezing rain as much as it did now!

Victor’s eyes were dark gold. His movements were swift and elusive, like a ghostly shadow. The indigo sword light was like lightning in the storm, striking the Legendary Centaur again and again.

The raindrops were pulverized into mist by the vibrating void wind element, then confined by the cyan-black airflow, spinning at high speed, unable to disperse or evaporate. It gathered more and more, turning into a black, cloud-like tornado.

Within a five-meter radius, it was a scene of terror and destruction. This was the true Raging Wind Domain!

Within the domain, the deadliest thing was Victor. In an instant, he landed fifty-five sword strikes and eleven Azure Blades on the Legendary Centaur. Even a statue cast from Adamantine would have been hacked to pieces by such a ferocious assault.

Polta was in utter misery. The Armor of the Earth nullified most of the damage, but the elf’s sword style, varying between light and heavy blows, unleashed an explosive, superimposed power that forced its limbs into the mire. At this moment, only by standing still could Polta maintain its balance. Otherwise, the two swords, carrying the gale, were so unpredictable they could knock it straight to the ground.

Too fast… so fast its body couldn’t react or adjust in time. It even suspected that if the elf’s twin swords struck the same spot, it would be severely wounded.

“Stop!”

Polta roared in its mind. The formless force field appeared again. The very air grew incredibly heavy. The howling gales instantly ceased, and the elf’s elusive figure slowed.

The centaur pulled its four legs from the mud, raised a fist, and smashed forward like a great spear launched from a ballista.

Victor was airborne, his feet not touching the ground. His Adamantine longsword tapped the Legendary Centaur’s fist, cleverly neutralizing the “Earth’s Mighty Strike” effect. Using the centaur’s own power, he sprang backward, drifting down lightly.

Polta did not miss the opportunity to kill its enemy. It charged forward and threw another punch at the elf, who had no leverage. However, the wind was everywhere. The vortexes it had continuously whipped up allowed Victor to once again drift onto its back.

The air flowed, the gales descended, and the Legendary Centaur was once again trapped in the Raging Wind Domain.

Victor was by no means reckless, nor timid. Every move was precisely calculated. The Body of Gossamer, combined with Wind Walk, allowed him to change direction in mid-air, but it was still very dangerous against a Legendary-rank centaur. Void Walk was Victor’s trump card for testing the centaur’s Bloodline talent, which was why he could choose to continue probing instead of aiming to kill.

The battle continued. Victor was in complete control of the situation. X-3 had completed its tactical analysis of the Raging Wind Domain and had also grasped some characteristics of the centaur’s Bloodline talent.

The Legendary Centaur had used its domain-like talent four times. It was a Burst skill that instantly created a force field in a twelve-meter radius around its body. It could quell gales and weaken the void wind element, causing it to rapidly decay into normal air. At the same time, it exerted a considerable pulling force on the target, equivalent to a young man pushing hard on Victor’s back, shoving him toward the centaur.

For Victor, this level of pulling force was too weak, far inferior to his own Raging Wind Domain. Even the Centaur Great Khan was slowed by the air resistance within the Raging Wind Domain.

However, the Legendary Centaur’s pulling force could cause some interference, much like the repulsive force field of a Gold Earth Knight’s domain, which was over thirty pounds. Any obstructed, flawed movement would be fatal before a Gold Knight. The Legendary Centaur’s pull was a notch stronger than a Gold Knight’s domain.

Unfortunately, it was a Burst skill. The pulling effect lasted only a brief moment, and it couldn’t negate Victor’s Wind Walk talent.

Based on these characteristics, Victor guessed that the damage from his void wind element had prompted the centaur’s Armor of the Earth to develop a corresponding resistance, thereby activating a new Bloodline talent specifically designed to counter high-agility, wind-controlling opponents.

This was an adaptive adjustment.

Victor wanted to test it further, because the Legendary Centaur’s adaptive changes were faintly related to the Active Adaptation talent in his Mind Bloodline secret art. Moreover, as the Legendary Centaur’s adaptation grew stronger, it also pushed Victor to unearth his own Bloodline’s potential and become more powerful.

This was a real-life example of the Red Queen Effect. But Victor still decided to retreat first, shake off the centaur, and use it as a whetstone again after recovering his vigor.

The true Raging Wind Domain was powerful, but its vigor consumption was also substantial. Victor’s vigor level had reached the point where he had to retreat. Otherwise, he wouldn’t even be able to use Boil or Void Walk.

The results of X-3’s precise calculations would not be wrong.

No one can plan for everything, because no one is omniscient!

Victor calculated the known information; he could never have calculated the internal changes within the centaur.

Polta never knew what calculation was; it fought purely on instinct. Just like when it killed the two human powerhouses—it didn’t understand anything about the Touch of the Mind stirring emotions or creating mistakes. It simply changed its charge target based on instinct and killed Emperor Sasan and the Grand Duke. Afterward, it found it incredible, even trembling with fear.

In truth, having fought the elf to this point, Polta was on its last legs. Its vigor was nearly depleted. If its opponent pressed just a little harder, its Armor of the Earth would be difficult to maintain.

Polta didn’t know, and it didn’t care. At this moment, it had no extraneous thoughts, only the desire to kill its opponent, even if it meant burning away its life.

Extreme purity—simple and effective!

Polta embraced its Bloodline, and the Bloodline responded to its simple, pure desire for slaughter. Its life underwent a qualitative change, its talent awakening. This process was not yet over. It could still change, unless Polta killed the elf, or was killed by the elf.

The moment Victor had the thought to retreat, Polta immediately sensed his intention.

How could I let you escape? Die!

Polta stomped on the earth. The formless force field, guided by its power of the mind, concentrated on its enemy, calming the airflow and pulling him toward the centaur’s iron fist.

The Legendary Centaur’s life force climbed to its most intense peak. Its spirit locked firmly onto its foe. The mire under its hooves turned to solid rock. It charged and punched, as if it had grasped the mysteries of time and space, delivering a blow that was certain to kill and certain to hit.

A sudden change occurred. Platinum-gold divine runes lit up on the indifferent-looking elf’s body, and his jet-black hair turned golden.

The killing blow that was certain to hit struck empty air. The elf became air.

He had vanished?!

Polta’s mind was still locked on its opponent. Relying on instinct, it changed its direction of charge and threw a second punch into the void.

Victor hadn’t expected to be forced into using Void Walk by the centaur. The formless force field had suddenly focused into a channel, its pulling force intensifying more than tenfold, while also nullifying the Wind Walk effect. Victor decisively activated Miller’s divine arts ring, activating his Boil talent and Void Walk to escape a fatal end.

Void Walk could teleport him up to 774 meters away, completely outside the centaur’s attack range and force field radius. And Miller’s Sacred Protection could quickly restore his vigor and boost all four of his major attributes.

Whether retreating or counter-attacking, Victor needed abundant vigor. He did not make mistakes; X-3 would only make rational choices.

A new variable made X-3 err. Victor had miscalculated.

In a world of black and white, the Centaur Great Khan was charging and punching at an extremely slow speed. Victor should have been able to quickly run far away, but he was enveloped by an invisible force, as if frozen in amber. He took a difficult step, and the place he landed coincided perfectly with the centaur’s path.

Victor felt no fear. Until this moment, his thoughts were still completely replaced by X-3’s calculations, shielding all emotions and suppressing the instinctive will of his Bloodline. But every calculation resulted in him being hit by the centaur.

In the black-and-white curtain of rain, a slender, curvaceous figure ran slowly in the distance. She cried out loudly, but there was no sound. She slowly raised her hand and made a slow swipe toward the centaur.

It was Roland… In the next moment, Victor saw the Legendary Centaur’s pained expression. The force field binding him vanished instantly. He then saw a thin, verdant green line slowly appear on the centaur’s black-and-white neck, a line that seemed to be trying to heal.

Victor shut down X-3, and his entire being flew toward the gap in the centaur’s neck.

A stream of indigo light illuminated the dark plains. Polta looked as if it wanted to pounce, but it remained motionless, like a metal statue. The next second, its head fell from its neck, bounced a few times on the rock, and rolled into the mud.

The favored child of the Earth Mother, the Legendary Centaur Polta, was beheaded on the Warton Great Plains by the Gold-Eyed Earl.

Victor watched Roland, clad in dark gold armor, fly toward him, but his vision blurred and he fell into a deep darkness.

Before passing out, his only thought was: So cold.

Roland caught Victor just as he was about to fall, saving him from landing in a mud puddle. The Princess’s expression was very strange—a little embarrassed, but mostly curious. Biting her cherry lip, she giggled to herself:

“He’s actually butt-naked.”

Chapter 674: A Battle Across Time and Space (Part 2)

Roland’s gaze wandered, unsure where to settle. As Aerie Fortress’s most curious child, she had spied on Victor bathing long ago, but back then the High Elf noble was just a seven-year-old boy. Things were different now. Victor was an adult, one of the top extraordinaries in the human kingdoms. The beauty and elegance characteristic of the High Elves were on full display in him, brimming with a captivating charm that had won the adoration of nearly all the high-ranking female knights.

The most terrifying part was that Roland herself had also grown up, though she would never admit it.

The curious child thought that an opportunity for the Sun Elf to be sleeping soundly, completely at her mercy, was incredibly rare—especially when he was stark naked.

Roland’s heart itched with curiosity, but her face behind the mask grew warm. Her eyes darted left and right, flickering uncertainly, but in the end, she decided to survey the battlefield first.

The scene was a complete wreck. The marks left by Victor and the Centaur’s battle were like the aftermath of a terrible natural disaster, making even Roland gasp in astonishment. The Legendary Centaur stood on all four limbs upon the rocks, its body a yellowish-brown. Victor had decapitated it at the peak of its life force, so its semi-elementalized body was exceptionally well-preserved, making it priceless.

Roland thought for a moment. The Centaur was too big. She decided she should collect the most valuable war trophies first, lest the freezing rain ruin them. Cradling Victor, whose eyes were tightly shut, in her arms, she stomped her delicate, half-heeled war boot on the ground, and two small items scattered in the mud flew up into her hand.

The rain, which had been drizzling, gradually subsided. Roland hummed a soft, gentle lullaby as she carried Victor in her arms to a grassy highland meadow. She laid His Highness Randell, whose mind had sunk into a deep slumber, on a clean but damp pile of grass.

Starting a fire was impossible in this environment, and Roland had no clothes to give Victor. She took off her helmet and gauntlets. Her slender, fair hands, with their elegant lines, began to grope all over Victor’s body. Her smile was both cunning and smug, yet she muttered with feigned worry, “It’s so cold. He won’t freeze, will he?”

Victor was continuously absorbing the free-floating void water elements, and the color was gradually returning to his face, a phenomenon Roland couldn’t see. Back in Aerie Fortress, she and the young Victor had acted out plays about a knight saving an elf princess many times. She always played the knight, and Victor played the elf princess. After the knight saved the princess, a kiss was naturally required for a perfect ending.

Victor had been too young back then and was very resistant. Besides, the court ladies were always watching, so Roland had never been able to complete the final act.

Now was the perfect time… simply too perfect.

His Highness Randell usually carried himself with elegance and acted gently, but his power and Bloodline were undeniable. Since Roland wasn’t a high-ranking knight herself, any true extraordinary powerhouse could feel the sharp coldness in his eyes and the pressure that came with it. It was much better now. With his eyes closed, Victor’s exquisite, beautiful face had a hint of helplessness, just like a sleeping elf princess.

…Or a King of the Elves in distress? A naked one at that… Elf princess, King of the Elves, it didn’t matter. After all, it was I, the great wandering knight, Roland Auguste, who saved his life from the monster… He’s unconscious now and needs a sincere kiss…. What if he opens his eyes when I kiss him?

Roland was so excited she nearly danced with joy, but then she was struck by indecision. She was only curious about a kiss; she didn’t want to be responsible for Victor.

In the end, she couldn’t overcome her curiosity, nor the small wish of a knight saving a princess. Roland lifted Victor up and carefully kissed his lips.

Lips pressed against lips, teeth bumped against teeth. The first kiss wasn’t as sweet and wonderful as described in poems. Princess Auguste’s heart pounded like a frightened deer, and she frowned. A bit roughly, she pinched Victor’s cheeks, pried open his teeth, and, following the descriptions in books, went in for another, deeper kiss.

“Not sweet at all… I really don’t know why they like you so much.”

Roland wiped the saliva from the corner of her mouth, her attention shifting to Victor’s small belongings: a Purple Gold Coin, a Bone Bead, a crystal, and the white crystal ring on the middle finger of his left hand.

Even a Legendary Knight couldn’t have decapitated a Legendary Centaur that had activated its Armor of the Earth talent. With Victor’s final counterattack, he had become completely elementalized into wind. Roland was certain that nothing could have withstood his severing power, and she was also deeply aware of the danger involved.

The deeper a high-ranking knight’s semi-elementalization, the more powerful they were. But if a high-ranking knight became one hundred percent elementalized, it meant they had perished. The Elemental Sea reclaims powers that do not belong in the mortal world. How could a completely elementalized knight resist the fundamental laws of the world?

Victor transforming into a void wind element, clashing with the semi-elementalized Legendary Great Centaur, severing its head, and then reversing the elementalization to restore his own body—the entire process was simply incredible!

This was clearly an extraordinary ability that transcended the Legendary realm and stepped into the Saint realm.

His Double-headed Dragon-Lizard leather armor, Python-skin Thorium inner armor, underclothes, quiver, and the Adamantine longsword and dagger forged by top craftsmen—all of it had been disintegrated into elements and had completely vanished.

That these four small items could remain intact was a testament to how extraordinary they were.

“The divine arts ring made by Pope Clement… Sylvia’s Manticore poison sac bone bead… No use to me, I’ll leave them for you.”

Roland generously gave up the marvelous items she couldn’t use and picked up the other two.

One was a Purple Gold Coin minted by Aerie Fortress thirty years ago. Long-term handling had given its surface a fine patina. It could be exchanged for one thousand Gold Sols at the Household Department in Blinor City. It looked ordinary, and it felt ordinary. Roland casually tucked it into her small waist pouch.

The remaining crystal made Princess Auguste’s eyes light up, and she couldn’t bear to part with it. It was diamond-shaped overall, with a dark red sphere resembling a drop of blood solidified in its center, surrounded by many small, mysterious runes. Just from its appearance, Roland judged this Marvelous Crystal to be the masterpiece of an ancient Chosen, and it must have belonged to some Archwizard who had transcended the mundane and entered sainthood.

Roland had personally witnessed the entire process of Victor transforming into a void wind element, slaying a powerful enemy, and then restoring himself. By perceiving the changes in the elements, she had her own understanding of it.

Victor’s successful use of a Saint-realm transcendent combat skill was due, on one hand, to the supreme bloodline talent of the High Elves, and on the other, was closely related to his willpower.

The four marvelous items that remained intact were the best proof.

Victor had gone all out to kill the highly semi-elementalized Great Centaur. With the willpower of a legendary powerhouse, he could only gather the four void elements to reconstruct his own body. Most of his possessions, lacking the reinforcement of his will, could not be reconstructed. That was why Victor was completely naked after killing the Centaur.

From this, one could deduce that the four marvelous items that had been preserved were each imbued with the will of a top-tier extraordinary powerhouse.

The Purple Gold Coin Victor carried close to him and often handled was therefore imbued with the will of the Sword Saint, His Highness Randell; the divine arts ring was imbued with the will of Pope Clement; the Manticore bone bead was imbued with the will of the Spirit Knight; and the last mysterious crystal was extraordinary, imbued with the will of an Archwizard from ten thousand years ago.

Sylvia was undoubtedly the strongest among them. Holding the bone bead she had given her Lover, Roland felt a sense of discomfort all over.

Toss it… don’t want it!

Pope Clement was possibly the weakest of the four Legendaries, but divine arts themselves condensed the power of faith from countless people, making the divine arts ring exceptionally stable. However, a divine item tailor-made for Victor could only be activated by him, so it was useless for Roland to take it.

As for the Purple Gold Coin, Roland couldn’t help but chuckle whenever she thought of Victor choosing to restore a Purple Gold Coin worth one thousand Gold Sols rather than his own clothes. She happily accepted the Sword Saint Randell’s Purple Gold Coin. When they had a chance to meet in the future, she would use this token of trust to mock Victor for the embarrassing incident of fighting naked.

The will of an unknown ancient Archwizard, still able to contend with that of the Sword Saint, His Highness Randell, after ten thousand years—one could only imagine how precious the Marvelous Crystal he left behind was.

This ancient crystal was in perfect condition, mysterious and beautiful, and Roland adored it. As a future legendary female Ranger, of course she had to claim such a beautiful crystal for herself.

A few months ago, when the Gambis vanguard attacked Little Calf Village, which was occupied by Dragon-blooded Kobolds, Caligula had found a crystal and presented it to his master as a treasure. Victor had swiftly hidden it away, so fast that Roland didn’t even get a clear look. Recalling it now, she realized it was this very crystal.

How could a free-spirited legendary female Ranger take advantage of someone in peril and covet her companion’s treasure? This Marvelous Crystal was mine to begin with… I saved Victor’s life, and I’m even leaving him the priceless Legendary Centaur and all the fame. What’s taking a crystal that was already mine?

With not a hint of guilt, Roland shoved the crystal into her small waist pouch and smiled with a clear conscience.

Princess Auguste was, after all, a young, beautiful, passionate, generous, and noble female Ranger.

Gazing at the peacefully sleeping Victor, who was completely oblivious to all this, Roland couldn’t help but curl her lips into a smug smile and begin to remove her armor.

The dark gold Mithril pauldrons, breastplate, vambraces, belt, tassets, and war boots landed one by one on the grass. Left in only her form-fitting inner armor, which revealed her perfect curves, Roland moved the armor pieces to a spot not far from Victor, arranging them in the shape of a person. Her fair, slender hand pressed down on the Mithril armor, and a green light enveloped the entire set. When the void water element dissipated, a beauty made of ice crystals, wearing an armored skirt and holding the “Water Sprite’s Sigh,” was curled up on the ground. Her translucent features were a perfect copy of Roland’s.

After finishing all this, Roland, barefoot on her small, exquisite, snow-white feet, walked over to Victor. She bent down and pinched his nose and ears, her smile as playful as a little fox that had just stolen a hen.

“Princess Roland Auguste perished, assimilated by the elements, all to save you. Won’t you feel terribly guilty? How will you explain it to Aerie Fortress, to the Church, to the lord of Gambis? In the future, I’ll definitely give you a good scare. Oh dear… I’m so wicked.”

“My most prized student, we shall meet again.”

She planted a kiss on Victor’s forehead. Just as Roland stood up, a heavenly, melodious voice seemed to drift from the ethereal sky.

“Roland, are you leaving just like that?”

Chapter 675: A Thousand Loose Ends (Part 1)

The rain had stopped completely, and the wind seemed to have lost its strength. Soft, cool moonlight spilled over the damp plains, creating an exceptionally tranquil and peaceful scene.

Roland stood frozen in place, not daring to move even a fingertip. The Aura of a Gold Knight began to circulate instinctively, but she hastily quelled it to avoid any misunderstanding from the newcomer.

The princess of the Auguste family was only half a step from the Legendary realm. Even three Legendary Knights of extraordinary strength like Sylvia, Nachtigal, and Neo Wester could not have slipped past her elemental perception and appeared behind her so silently.

…Unless it was a Spirit Knight.

This was the lawless wilderness, and for Sylvia to approach so stealthily in her Spirit Knight Posture represented an irresistible danger and clear malice.

As Roland suppressed her active Aura, her face instantly turned as red as an apple, and even her earlobes burned hot. At this critical juncture, the first thing she thought of was how Sylvia must have clearly seen her steal a kiss from Victor out of curiosity. She wanted to explain but didn’t know where to start, so she could only stammer, “I… I wasn’t going to abandon your paramour. I… I planned to protect him from a distance until his entourage found him, and then I would leave.”

Silence reigned behind her. After a long moment, the soft rustle of footsteps grew closer and closer. Sylvia, clad in exquisitely crafted Mithril armor, held her Rose War Lance in one hand and Victor’s fallen Silverwing Warbow in the other. She walked past the motionless Roland and approached her Lover, who lay on the wet grass.

When Roland saw Sylvia’s brilliant red hair, which seemed to flow like fire, a flash of insight struck her. Pointing at Sylvia’s perfectly sculpted back, she exclaimed, “You… you were using your full power… That downpour just now was your doing… My sword strike was secretly guided by you… And Victor’s final Transcendent combat skill that killed the Centaur… that was you too!”

Sylvia paid no mind to the shouting Roland. She tossed aside the lance and warbow, knelt down, and unwrapped her Snow Monster hide cloak, which was completely free of water stains. With gentle, meticulous care, she wrapped it around Victor’s body and cradled his head on her supple lap. She gazed at her Lover’s face with complete focus, and the divine, ruthless, dark-red eyes gradually filled with a tenderness that moved even Roland.

Love is the radiant side of humanity, the beauty that wisdom yearns for… Roland sighed inwardly. Recalling the details of the preceding battle, she became even more certain of the Spirit Knight’s intervention.

When Victor fought the Legendary Centaur, Roland had been far away, but the elemental power they wielded was as dazzling as a torch in the darkness. Roland had to admit that the Legendary battle between the High Elf and the Great Centaur had surpassed the limits of her own abilities. She was particularly alarmed by the rate at which the Centaur Great Khan was improving.

Even if she had forcibly intervened in their fight, she might not have been able to injure the Legendary Centaur, and could have even been a hindrance.

The sudden freezing rain had made the water element in the air rich and active. As a top-tier Gold Raging Wave Knight, Roland’s extraordinary power was fully enhanced in the rainy environment, giving her the ability to join the fight between Victor and the Centaur.

By the time Roland reached the battlefield, Victor’s life was hanging by a thread. The Great Centaur’s earth element power had trapped his void wind element avatar, and he was unable to break free despite struggling desperately.

The earth and wind elements countered each other, while the water element possessed both the form of earth and the flow of wind. In theory, Roland could have cut in while the two were locked in a stalemate and broken the balance. However, the Great Centaur’s degree of Semi-elementalization was frighteningly high, like a solid, complete rock. Roland had no confidence she could manipulate the water element within its body to disrupt the equilibrium of its elemental circulation.

Time was of the essence. Victor couldn’t wait, so Roland could only aim for the centaur’s heart, the area with the densest concentration of the water element, and unleash her Transcendent sword skill. Whether this strike would be effective depended on Victor’s luck. At that critical moment, Roland suddenly perceived a gap in the elemental circulation at the centaur’s neck.

The elemental circulation of a living being must have gaps; without them, it would be a pure element. But a gap did not necessarily mean a fatal weakness. The Legendary Centaur’s neck and heart were protected by its most solid defenses. Even if Roland manifested the void water element with all her might, she most likely wouldn’t be able to heavily injure those two areas. However, she could use the fleeting gap to agitate the water element within the centaur’s body and interrupt its elemental circulation.

Without hesitation, Roland thrust her sword at the centaur’s neck. The centaur did indeed feel pain, and although it was not injured, its control over its void earth element force field was broken.

Roland had originally intended only to rescue Victor. She never imagined that he would use that slim opening to turn the tables with the sharpness of the void wind element and kill the Great Centaur, who had nearly surpassed the Legendary realm!

Victor could use the void wind element like that? But wasn’t the timing of their coordination a little too perfect?

If his void wind element avatar had cut the wrong spot, he would never have been able to reform his body.

In other words, Victor’s Transcendent combat skill pushed the characteristics of the void wind element to their absolute limit. It grasped the spatial mysteries of the wind, pointing directly toward the Saint realm, capable of severing anything and achieving a one-hit kill. But it was also incredibly dangerous—a true do-or-die gambit.

Roland didn’t understand Victor’s wind elementalization ability, and they had never coordinated before. He clearly could have escaped safely at that moment, so why would he risk it all on a single strike?

…Unless, someone had run countless Deductions for him, and he had absolute trust in that person… He just had to “see” the gap in the elemental circulation and cut!

When the battle ended, the favored child of the Earth Mother, the Legendary Centaur Great Khan, had perished on the spot. The Gold-Eyed Earl, His Highness Victor Randell, had ascended to the throne of a Sword Saint. And Her Highness Roland Auguste had mastered her own core Transcendent sword skill, making it only a matter of time before she stepped into the legendary realm, with the potential to go even further.

All of this was because the Spirit Knight, Sylvia, had been there all along.

She had unleashed the power of a Spirit Knight, transcending the Legendary realm, transcending the Saint realm, causing the freezing rain to fall ahead of schedule. Her reach was limitless, allowing her to manipulate the void water element to control every situation—Victor’s fight with the centaur, Roland’s fight with the golden centaur, and Narsen’s fight with the other golden centaur.

Victor was never in danger, because the Spirit Knight Sylvia was by his side. Of course, Sylvia wasn’t so kind as to help Roland perfect her Transcendent sword skill. When Victor ran into trouble, she simply marked the gap in the Legendary Centaur’s elemental circulation for her Lover. If Victor had failed to seize the opportunity, the Legendary Centaur would have been instantly frozen to death by the void water element.

Roland just happened to be in the right place at the right time. She just happened to use Sylvia’s mark to test the full mystery of her Transcendent sword skill on the Legendary Centaur.

Thinking it all through, Roland suddenly felt a little dejected and uncomfortable.

“Extraordinary beings are drawn to one another, and fate is so wondrous… I can only say that His Majesty Ryan Auguste left his daughter the most generous of legacies.”

Sylvia, who had reverted to having golden hair and blue eyes, looked up and asked Roland with a smile, “That sword strike of yours was full of imagination and absolutely brilliant… I benefited greatly from it. Can you tell me the name of this set of Transcendent sword skills?”

Roland didn’t deny that it was an interconnected set of Transcendent sword skills. She introduced it proudly, “My Transcendent sword skill is called ‘Water God’s Movement.’ What do you think? Sounds good, and powerful, right? Do you know how I usually practice it?”

Finding a kindred spirit was rare. Roland was like a child showing off her skills. Without waiting for Sylvia’s reply, she said eagerly, “I have a harp woven from Mithril threads. After I advanced to Gold Knight, Ryan requested it from the Baselius family as a celebratory gift for me… Of course, the idea was mine… I use the void water element to pluck that Mithril harp. Through constant practice, I was finally able to resonate with a drop of water using a minuscule amount of void water element, pluck the strings, and play a movement.”

Sylvia nodded in admiration. “The void water element represents Life. Every living being has water in its body. Your idea to use the resonance of the water element to stir the water of life within them has endless applications and is impossible to defend against. It is indeed very powerful.”

Roland’s face lit up with a grin. She lifted her delicate chin, gazed at the sky, and chuckled gleefully, her ears pricked to hear what Sylvia would say next. “The vast majority of Raging Wave Knights utilize the freezing power of the void water element. Only you and Auroxia have forged a different path. One chose the resonance of water; the other, the resilient force field of water. No wonder you two were able to advance to Legendary Raging Wave Knight.”

Roland’s eyes shone as she pressed, “Auroxia sought your guidance as well? What’s the name of her Transcendent combat skill?”

Sylvia nodded and said, “The Stringed Puppeteer.”

“…The Puppeteer?”

Roland pursed her lips and shook her head. “That’s a terrible name… Not as good as my ‘Water God’s Movement’! Sylvia, do you think my Transcendent sword skill can lead to the Saint realm?”

A smile in her eyes, Sylvia said leisurely, “The ultimate expression of the void water element is Time. ‘Water God’s Movement’ is founded on the passing of Life, which is the correct Path. But when a Legendary Knight reaches the end of that road, they will still be drawn to the Elemental Sea. Instead of honing your Transcendent martial skills, you would be better off thinking about how to preserve your humanity.”

“The Konjac potion formulated by the Master Tofwen has a változó taste. When High-ranked Knights drink it, they all taste something different. Its flavor allows us to recall the pasts that are slowly fading deep within our hearts, slowing the loss of our humanity… It’s like the first dagger we received as a child. We were so happy then, the dagger was so precious, but we lost it when we grew up… What we lost was not the first dagger of our lives, but our childlike innocence, our humanity.”

She lowered her head to look at Victor, whose will had fallen into a deep slumber, and said softly, “When I drink the Konjac potion, what I taste most is Victor. He is my beloved, my most important connection to this world… No matter where my Lover is, I can find him whenever I want… If he were to perish, I would know it instantly!”

“Roland, you are brazenly audacious… to even dare to scheme and make use of me,” Sylvia said with a light, lazy laugh.

The princess of Gambis wore a puzzled expression, furrowing her slender brows as she shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sylvia stared fixedly into Roland’s green eyes before averting her gaze and saying with an amused tone, “You put on a good act… I’m afraid you’ve even deceived yourself.”

“How could I possibly deceive myself? I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” Roland said, her face a mask of innocence.

Sylvia gently caressed Victor’s cheek and said faintly, “During the Holy City Uprising over three hundred years ago, the Nachtigal Paladin family and the Neo Wester royal family secretly contacted the secular great lords and clergy who opposed the Radiant Knights, attempting to restore the papal line to the highest position in the Holy See. At the time, the leaders of the six great Paladin families and the Pontiff were all caught off guard and secretly imprisoned by the Lightguard. Nachtigal was preparing to lure and capture the core members of the Paladin families. Just as they were about to succeed, several Monastery Elders involved in the plan quietly released Testier and the leaders of the Paladin families. Testier mobilized the Temple Army and the Inquisition, thwarting their opponent’s conspiracy. Nachtigal’s efforts fell short at the last moment.”

“Afterward, the Neo Wester royal family’s representative powers within the Church were purged, and a Cardinal Archbishop committed suicide by poison. The Auguste, Friedrich, and Rex families officially established their kingdoms with the Church’s support. The Neo Wester royal family was forced to issue a decree recognizing the royal status of the three great lords. From then on, the Randt Empire was officially declared fractured. The Neo Wester family collapsed and has been unable to recover ever since.”

Sylvia said at her leisure, “The August family was a participant in this event. You first supported the Nachtigal family, then betrayed them at the final critical juncture… The establishment of the Gambis Kingdom was the Radiant Knights’ reward to you.”

Roland’s eyebrows shot up in anger. “What does that have to do with me? I wasn’t even born three hundred years ago.”

Sylvia shook her head. “I have no intention of condemning betrayal. There are only victors and losers in this. The victors are rewarded, and the losers are punished. The Neo Wester family and the clergy sympathetic to the Pope became the biggest losers… No one can punish the Pope, but why was Nachtigal not held accountable either?”

“Nachtigal was the mastermind of the Holy City Uprising. Not only were they not punished, but they were even rewarded… The three great lords split the Randt Empire and created the three southern kingdoms, while the Neo Wester family became a complete vassal of Nachtigal.”

Roland bit her lip and answered, “Nachtigal is already the last-ranked Paladin family.”

“I must say, the Nachtigal ancestor and the first Pope were brilliant strategists. Nachtigal is forever ranked last, so they have no competition and no conflicts with the six great Paladin families, giving them a Transcendent Status. The six great Paladin families compete and conflict with one another, keeping each other in check. The Nachtigal family, with its transcendent status, has invisibly become the arbitrator and hidden leader of the Paladin families.” Sylvia nodded, then changed the subject. “Since the Nachtigal family can neither be punished nor advanced, why did they instigate the Holy City Uprising? Loyalty to the papal line…”

After a pause, Sylvia sneered, “Alright, let’s assume the Nachtigals have been loyal to the papal line for generations. In the three hundred plus years since the Holy City Uprising, why has Nachtigal behaved itself and not caused trouble for the Radiant Knights? It’s not like they can be punished anyway…”

Roland’s eyes flickered, and she remained silent, seemingly lost in thought.

Sylvia glanced at her and said, “The Holy City Uprising and the New Covenant of Light are the major events of the last few centuries, with extremely far-reaching consequences. Victor and I have collected intelligence from that time through various channels, and then analyzed it. In the end, we came to one conclusion… The six great Paladin families and Nachtigal are one group—they are all Paladins. The Radiant Knights and Nachtigal are not one group—they were once competitors, and now they are cooperative allies.”

“Do you understand what this means?”

“You wanted to lure and kill the Legendary Paladin, His Majesty Nachtigal, on the Warton Great Plains to avenge Ryan. But you never would have imagined that Victor was worried you would do just that… Before he came to support you, he first went to see Patriarch Flidis and had the Patriarch inform Nachtigal that his help was not needed in the hunt for the Legendary Centaur.”

“Just as Victor expected, Flidis not only notified Nachtigal, but also sent an urgent message to me, informing me that His Highness Randell intended to hunt the Legendary Centaur alone and had refused His Majesty Nachtigal’s Aid. Flidis was trying to get me to deal with the Legendary Centaur…”

“So I came… so Nachtigal didn’t dare to come… so your plan failed.”

Chapter 676: A Thousand Loose Ends (Part 2)

“The Testier family asked Nachtigal to deal with the Centaur Great Khan. This matter has nothing to do with me. I simply wanted to hunt and kill the Legendary Great Centaur to perfect my Transcendent sword skill and pave my way to the legendary realm.”

Even when Sylvia had laid things out so plainly, Roland still refused to admit that she had set a trap to lure and kill Nachtigal.

The implementation of a plan always changes with the political tides. A schemer first considers how to turn the consequences of a failed plan to their advantage. If they insist on pushing things to a life-or-death struggle, it either means they are at their wit’s end and must make a desperate gamble, or they are an absolute fool.

Take the feud between Nachtigal and the six great Paladin families. Although the Nachtigal family was ranked last among the Paladins, they had the Pope as their backer, commanded the “Light’s Guard” of the “Little Holy See,” and possessed the official recognition of the Eyer Royal Family. Their Transcendent Status placed them second to one and above tens of thousands.

For thousands of years, the Nachtigal family had acted as the arbitrator and mediator for the Paladin families. When the King of Eyer convened the Privy Council Meeting, the leaders of the six great Paladin families would all attend. Nachtigal had nearly absolute say in the ranking of the Paladins, and they naturally held a firm grip on the Radiant Knights and the Temple Army.

The rise of the Testier family shattered the established order of the Paladin families.

Thanks to the Sword Saint Draven, the Testiers became the Stormwind Paladin family, capable of doing things other Paladins could not. When the Radiant Knights had to encircle and annihilate powerful beastmen tribes, it used to come at a great cost and sacrifice. But the Testier family, with the advantages of the Stormwind Paladins, could easily assassinate powerful monsters, allowing more Paladins, battle priests, and Sacred Warriors to survive.

Reconnaissance, assassination, support, containment, deterrence—the Testier family’s accomplishments were outstanding, and their prestige grew. They became an indispensable tactical core of the Radiant Knights. The other Paladin families naturally began to rally around them.

A military and political bloc with the Testier family as its leader gradually took shape. No one attended Nachtigal’s Privy Council Meetings anymore.

The conflict between the Pope and the Radiant Knights grew increasingly apparent. Over fifteen hundred years ago, using the chaos caused by the Pantheon Wizards as a pretext, the two sides had their official showdown. The result was a crushing defeat for the papal line, which was toppled from the supreme throne of the Holy See. The Nachtigal family’s glory faded, and the Light’s Guard was marginalized.

During the Holy City Uprising over three hundred years ago, it was true that the Nachtigal family wanted to help the papal line reclaim its throne, but it was also true that they were secretly colluding with the Radiant Knights.

If the plan succeeded, the Nachtigal family would return to the central authority of the Holy See; if it failed, the clergy sympathetic to the papal line would be thoroughly purged, and the Pope would fall completely into Nachtigal’s grasp. And by orchestrating the Holy City Uprising, Nachtigal was sending a clear message to the Radiant Knights:

“We’ve always been the lowest-ranked Paladin family, and there’s nothing you can do about us. If you can’t satisfy us, we can keep making trouble for you, so you’ll never have a day of peace.”

For the next three hundred years, the Nachtigal family behaved themselves, which surely meant that the Radiant Knights had reached some sort of understanding with them.

The crucial question was, what were the specific contents of the agreement reached between the Radiant Knights and the Nachtigal family?

Both Victor and Sylvia wanted to find out. A dozen years ago, Nachtigal had instigated Neo Wester to restore the Randt Empire, leading to the death of Roland’s father. Yet, the Radiant Knights had not reacted strongly; instead, they had worked to quell the fallout from the incident.

The Church’s attitude was intriguing and offered a few clues.

A few years ago, when the Gambis Kingdom’s southern expansion had already taken shape, Nachtigal demanded that Neo Wester develop the barren Eastern Alliance instead.

Neo Wester had gone to great lengths to conquer the three eastern provinces of Gambis. How could he possibly agree when Nachtigal told him to abandon the Randt Imperial territory and the strategic shores of Lake Fies?

The Eastern Alliance was a crucial source of income painstakingly managed by the Inquisition, and it was also the main channel through which the Radiant Knights exerted influence on Sus and Borui. How could they possibly hand the Eastern Alliance over to Nachtigal?

Unwilling to relocate to the Eastern Alliance, Neo Wester met with Victor in secret, hoping to join the southern expansion faction. Pope Clement and the Relgarrel Paladin family acted as intermediaries, which spoke volumes.

Victor became suspicious at the time and tested Neo Wester, demanding that he first dissolve the Randt Empire and join the southern expansion faction as an ordinary lord.

If Neo Wester lost his official status as Emperor of Randt, his value to Nachtigal would be greatly diminished. To this day, Neo Wester, who was so keen on southern expansion, has not given Victor a clear answer, simply dragging the matter on.

This showed that the Nachtigal family’s influence in the Randt Imperial territory was deeply entrenched. It would be no easy task for the Neo Wester family to escape their control.

The situation was already clear. The Radiant Knights tacitly allowed Nachtigal to develop secular power, placing no obstacles in their way but offering no strong support either. They were not happy to see Nachtigal’s influence grow, so the two sides maintained a cold, hostile relationship on the surface.

The outward opposition between the Radiant Knights and the Light’s Guard was simply another backup plan for the Paladin families.

Who could say what the future held? If, by some chance, the papal line returned to power, the Nachtigal family could ensure that the Radiant Knights would not be purged.

In the end, the Nachtigal family were Paladins too. They shared a foundation of symbiosis with the other Paladin families.

Victor had his eyes on the coastline of the Eastern Alliance. Only by untangling the intricate relationships within the Church could he and Sylvia properly lay their groundwork and formulate their plans.

The Centaur Great Khan was attacking the Sasan Empire’s eastern defensive line, and Testier was leading the Radiant Knights in the Westdon Khanate, trying his best to annihilate the Centaur tribes’ main forces, leaving him unable to disengage. Yet Patriarch Flidis actually requested assistance from Nachtigal?

With His Highness Randell there, couldn’t he just wait for Tournans?

Victor didn’t know what the Radiant Knights were plotting, but he believed that Nachtigal’s move against the Centaur Great Khan was certainly related to the political situation in the Sasan Empire.

This was basically handing prestige to Nachtigal on a silver platter.

Due to certain actions by The Shadow Council, the matter had become shrouded in mystery. Victor was willing to wait and see, refusing to be rashly drawn into the struggle for the throne between Baselius and Frederick.

The Auguste family had personally participated in the Holy City Uprising, so they knew more of the details. Anything Victor and Sylvia could think of, Roland could think of too.

And look what she had done.

She defied Patriarch Flidis’s prohibition and, in the name of revenge, swept up Princess Freya Friedrich and Her Highness Auroxia to launch a surprise attack on the Centaur army before it could establish a foothold, winning a resounding victory. The prestige of Freya and Auroxia soared, and one of them even ascended to the Legendary realm, but neither of them was on good terms with the Radiant Knights.

In other words, Roland’s actions had further complicated the situation in the Sasan Empire. Whether Baselius or Freya ascended to the throne, neither was an outcome the Radiant Knights wished to see. To weaken the immense prestige of both Freya and the Baselius family, the Radiant Knights had to play their backup hand sooner than planned.

It seemed that Nachtigal’s interception of the Centaur Great Khan was now inevitable.

If he didn’t come, Roland would use the Legendary Centaur to hone her Transcendent combat skill. If he did come, Roland would certainly seek revenge against him, and even if she was no match for Nachtigal, there was still Victor.

Nachtigal did not come. Sylvia did. And for something that never happened, Roland had no need to confess.

Sylvia was not there to reproach Roland. She sighed and said seriously, “You have perfected your Transcendent combat skill. With the reputation you’ve gained from killing the Centaur Great Khan, all you have to do is return to Gambis, and you can immediately ascend to the legendary realm and become a Legendary Knight, just like Auroxia.”

Her platinum-gold hair floated gently. Roland clenched her fists, her gaze sharp as she met Sylvia’s eyes, and asked coolly, “I refuse. Are you here to kill me?”

A trace of pity crossed Sylvia’s flawless face. She said softly, “Giving up your identity as the Princess of Gambis means you will have to re-establish your knight’s conviction. Forget Legendary, you won’t even be able to use the power of a Gold Knight for a time… The legendary realm, the dream of every High-ranked Knight, is within your grasp. Are you really willing to forsake it all and start over, with no regrets even if I kill you?”

Roland said with grim determination, “You saw what happened to Ryan… He didn’t make me the crown princess of Gambis so that I would have no regrets, but so that his daughter could enjoy the bliss of freedom… Father has already perished. I will not betray his painstaking efforts. This is the shared wish of a father and his daughter.”

“At least for now, I am still Legendary… It is my greatest honor to witness the might of a Spirit Knight!” Roland said proudly.

“Legendary? Heh…”

Sylvia’s lips curled slightly. She looked down at Victor’s handsome face and changed the subject. “The Mind Bloodline secret art theory he proposed has allowed us to see many things clearly, and it has also changed some of my ideas… Roland, come back with us. Take on the Responsibility of being the Protector of the Gambis Empire. When I return to the Elemental Sea, Victor will be yours. How about it?”

All of Roland’s imposing manner vanished. Her face flushed bright red, and she stammered, “You must have misunderstood… I was just curious… just curious.”

Sylvia’s azure eyes turned cold in an instant. She raised an eyebrow and asked, “Are you refusing my final act of goodwill?”

If the York family was not important to Sylvia, she would not exist in this world. As the spiritual anchor of a Spirit Knight, Sylvia would spare no effort to push the York family to the pinnacle. Annexing the Dodor Kingdom to the north was originally just an idea among the Auguste family members. It was only due to the pressure from the Spirit Knight that King Ryan Auguste put this impractical idea into action, which ultimately led to his own demise.

The Gambis Kingdom was still under immense pressure from the Spirit Knight. The Faceless of Aerie Fortress had activated the pawn that was the little Baron Wimbledon, sending him to Sylvia’s side in the hopes that the little Moon Elf noble could alleviate Sylvia’s loneliness and do everything possible to prevent her premature return to the Elemental Sea, buying more buffer period for the Auguste royal family.

The Master Tofwen’s gambit had paid off, even better than he had anticipated.

Victor’s Deduction of the Mind Bloodline secret art allowed him to strive to overcome the instinctual will within his elven bloodline. He would not be like the Sword Saint Draven who, after his Spirit Knight partner perished, left the human kingdoms to search for his elven kin. It was precisely because the York family had His Highness Randell to look after them that Sylvia was willing to accept the York family acting as the Queen’s family for the Gambis Empire, with the Augustes as sovereigns.

Otherwise, Sylvia would have simply pushed the York family onto the royal throne, lest the Yorks be cast back into the dust by the Augustes after her own demise.

Roland seeking revenge on Nachtigal was something no one could criticize. But as the princess of Gambis, the Protector of the Kingdom, she had disregarded the bigger picture and schemed against Victor and Sylvia in private. It was audacious to the extreme!

If Roland had embraced her role as Protector of the Kingdom as her conviction and ascended to the Legendary-rank, respecting the rules from then on, Sylvia would have been delighted. So what if she killed Nachtigal? Who would dare use the art of prophecy to arrange a Spirit Knight’s fate ever again?

But Roland just had to emulate her Auguste ancestors, pursuing a free and romantic knight’s conviction. After Sylvia’s passing, with Roland’s extraordinary charisma, it was not impossible that she could influence His Highness Randell’s stance. Where would that leave the York family?

Roland had become a variable—the kind of variable Sylvia despised.

The flushed cheeks instantly returned to their pale, lustrous white. The Auguste Princess circulated her Aura and prepared for battle.

But Sylvia let out a soft chuckle, and the frozen air instantly warmed as if it were spring. Looking at the bewildered and utterly astonished Roland, she smiled and said, “Look how scared you are… Did you really think you could use me so easily?”

Roland bit her lip and asked cautiously, “You’re not going to kill me?”

Sylvia took a sheepskin letter from a small pouch on her armored waist and tossed it out.

Roland caught the Letter, unfurled it, and her heart immediately began to pound. Her eyes turned red. On it were just two simple phrases:

“Ant-man tide” and “unknown cataclysm.”

“Patriarch Flidis’s report and this personal letter from the Master Tofwen reached my hands at the same time.” Sylvia’s red lips parted as she said languidly, “Tofwen begged me to let you go, and I agreed. I hope you remember that everything in the Gambis Kingdom is also a bond you cannot forsake. One day, when Gambis needs your strength, remember to come back.”

Roland wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, ran over, and, ignoring Sylvia’s disdainful look, planted a kiss on her cheek. She grinned and said, “Then I’m really leaving. I hope we meet again someday.”

“Wait.”

Sylvia stopped Roland as she turned to leave, extending a fair, slender hand toward her. “Leave the items.”

Roland pouted, slowly walked back, and placed the Purple Gold Coin and the Marvelous Crystal in Sylvia’s hand, huffing, “…Petty. I even left the Legendary Centaur for Victor.”

Sylvia’s starry eyes sparkled as she carefully examined the Marvelous Crystal, but her words were sharp. “You faked your death to escape and chose to leave. Regent Williams is left with no choice and can finally make up his mind to challenge the Elemental Sea. I think he will most likely ascend to the Gold rank. In a sense, this is also feedback from the Great Divination that affected Ryan. Although you left the Legendary Centaur, fate has transferred the prestige you abandoned to Williams Auguste. He will protect the kingdom in your stead. My husband owes you no favors.”

Roland stared at the exquisite Marvelous Crystal, puffed out her cheeks, and said sourly, “Victor has many secrets…”

“They are all mine.” Sylvia closed her hand over the crystal, cutting off Roland’s eager gaze. Her smile was like a blooming flower as she said, “His secrets all belong to me, and only I can uncover them. You, don’t even think about it.”

Roland sighed helplessly, jutted her chin toward Victor, and said weakly, “He… he didn’t have any clothes or a cloak originally.”

“What do you mean? In this cold weather, you wanted my man to lie naked on the grass?” Sylvia flew into a rage, her willow-like brows threatening to shoot upwards.

Roland weakly explained, “If you leave the cloak for him, when he wakes up, he’ll think you killed me.”

“So what? Don’t worry, I won’t tell him I was here, nor will I tell him where you’ve gone. He keeps so many secrets from me. I want him to suffer a little,” Sylvia said nonchalantly.

Roland breathed a sigh of relief and shrugged. “You must not reveal my secret… If Victor resents you, it has nothing to do with me.”

Hearing this, Sylvia gave a cold smile. “Even if I were to privately execute either of the Elina sisters, Victor would fall out with me. But you? Heh, he wouldn’t even come to me for confirmation. He would just guess blindly and pretend not to know. He would never make things difficult for me.”

“…You’re not his woman, after all.” Sylvia waved her hand impatiently. Her gaze softened as she looked at Victor, and without lifting her head, she said, “Hurry up and go. Caligula will be here soon. Don’t disturb the short time I have to take care of Victor.”

Roland was instantly exasperated. With a flick of her ponytail, she turned and sped away barefoot toward the far reaches of the Great Plains.

The magnificent and exquisite Mithril armor, encasing the ice-crystal statue of the Auguste Princess, lay quietly on the grass.

Victor is an intruder in the World of Taelon Ruier, an anomaly. The world’s pan-consciousness wants to eliminate this anomaly and absorb it. The Shadow Council President never intended to kill the Gold-Eyed Earl, but the incidents he orchestrated spun out of his control, all because of the world’s pan-consciousness instinctively rejecting a foreign body. The Bear-monster Elder, the Centaur Polta, and the Shadow Knight all came about for this reason, though they themselves were unaware of the cause, each possessing their own rational motives. The anomaly was brought by the gods of the sanctuary; they need it to break the stalemate. As long as Victor does not abandon X-3, does not embrace his own bloodline, it is tantamount to refusing to integrate into the World of Taelon Ruier, a certain death. This aligns with the sanctuary’s wishes. Only with his death can Beldina take over the legacy of the Alchemical Empire. However, the God-favored Miller, though relatively insignificant, has the home ground advantage. He also wants to use this anomaly to secure a sliver of hope for humanity in the struggle between the sanctuary and the Abyss. The pan-consciousness of the world is diverse. Some parts want to eliminate the Heretic, while others want to integrate him. Sylvia represents the will of Integration. The fierce battle made the Centaurs stronger, and it also caused the Moon Elf bloodline to stir the silver moon. A sliver of moonlight was the world’s summons to Victor, urging him to accept the Sun Elf bloodline—another form of annihilation. Sylvia blocked the moonlight. Her desire for Victor to stay is another form of Integration. The sigh Victor heard was, in fact, the sound of his own heart. He gave up on the Sun Elf and chose his own Path. The Centaur nearly killed him. The battle that intertwines time and space is far from over.

Chapter 677: Concession and Advance

In the eastern part of the Westdon Khanate, at a temporary camp of the Radiant Knights.

A freezing rain that had lasted for two days had just ceased. The sky was gloomy and dim, and the damp air was bone-chillingly cold. The Sacred Warriors and their Horned Wolves were huddled in captured beast-hide tents, unwilling to move. At the center of the camp, in a small tent serving as the command post, Grand Commander Howard was listening to a report from his younger cousin, Clark Testier.

“During His Highness Randell’s battle with the Centaur Great Khan, despite the great distance, the several Highnesses on the Great Plains could all feel a unique and powerful fluctuation of the earth element. Immediately after, a ‘tidal surge’ appeared in the Elemental Sea of Wind. A sharp, condensed power flashed in the depths of the plains, and just like that, the earth element fluctuation abruptly vanished, as if severed by a sharp sword.”

A trace of envy appeared in Clark’s eyes as he said with a sigh, “Without a doubt, that was the power of the Saint realm.”

A complex smile touched the corners of Howard’s mouth, and he shook his head. “The top-tier experts of other races are always stronger than Knights, but they don’t have our numbers… The hundreds of thousands of Centaurs won’t produce two Legendary-ranks at the same time, and the entire Elven race has only one Sun Elf… Cousin Victor is not a Knight, and his racial identity is questionable, but no matter what, he stands with us… At least until Sylvia perishes, he is a Saint realm expert for humanity.”

The extraordinary power of non-human intelligent races did not come from the Elemental Sea, but from their own racial talents. The Legendary talent of the Centaurs relied on the earth, and the form and effect of their Semi-elementalization were very unique, completely different from that of human High-ranked Knights. Since the Centaurs’ Armor of the Earth did not directly communicate with the Elemental Sea of Earth, its elemental fluctuations were relatively subtle and deep, far less intense and distinct than when a High-ranked Knight manifested void elements. For Gold Knights to be able to perceive the Centaur Great Khan’s elemental fluctuations from over a thousand kilometers away showed just how exceptionally powerful the extraordinary abilities it displayed were.

For His Highness Victor W. Randell to extinguish the power fluctuations of a Legendary Centaur in a single blow, he had to be at the Saint realm.

Clark nodded and said grimly, “After the ‘tidal surge’ in the Elemental Sea of Wind, I rushed to the scene. Along the way, I saw the traces left by the battle between Victor and the Centaur… The ground was covered in neat, straight cracks, grass had been shredded by wind blades, and the battle scars stretched for hundreds of kilometers. It was like the scene of a hurricane, a natural disaster.”

“I also discovered that in some places near where the Centaur was killed, centered on its hoof prints, the cracks in the ground were deep in the distance but non-existent up close. This indicates that the earth was split open by the void wind element, only to be healed under the Legendary Centaur’s feet. However, the marks of the wind blades sweeping across the grass were even more distinct.”

“This means Cousin Victor forced out the Centaur Great Khan’s full potential and beheaded it at the peak of its power!”

Howard fell silent for a moment before sighing. “The Legendary Centaur’s combat power can’t compare to the Legendary Ogre King Vol’gan, but ancestor Draven had already stepped into the Saint realm before he slew Vol’gan. Cousin Victor has been a Legendary-rank for less than four years… None of us expected that he would walk a different Path from ancestor Draven… Our ancestor held the title of Sword Saint, yet his core combat technique was the Flowing Fire Arrow. Cousin Victor used the sharpness of the void wind element to slay the Legendary Great Centaur. His title of Sword Saint is well-deserved; he should be granted a prefix.”

Clark smiled. “We should ask his opinion first… when he wakes up.”

Howard asked in surprise, “What’s wrong with him now?”

“After he killed the Centaur, he fell into a dormant state. I personally checked on his condition. There’s no serious harm, just the aftereffects of complete vigor exhaustion.” Clark paused, then said thoughtfully, “However, his spirit is coiled and condensed, while his body is steadily absorbing the void water element without it leaking out. It’s like a deep well being constantly filled. This phenomenon closely matches the descriptions in our family’s records of ancestor Draven’s slumbers…”

Howard was taken aback and pressed, “Are you saying… a Bloodline transformation? Is Cousin Victor coming of age?”

Clark shook his head. “That’s what’s strange… His hair is still black, and I can’t see his eyes… In short, he doesn’t seem like an adult Sun Elf. And he hasn’t reached the coming-of-age period for High Elves, which is around fifty.”

Howard frowned and asked, “Where is Cousin Victor now?”

“Countess Andria Wimbledon was the second High-ranked Knight to arrive at the scene. She proposed taking His Highness Randell to the pioneering outpost in the Ghost Forest of the Dodor Kingdom first, and then heading north to the western Sasan Empire, to the Baselius family’s territory, to have a High-ranked Priest examine his condition. I agreed… We escorted Cousin Victor all the way to Countess Wimbledon’s castle. Bishop Fegchilin confirmed that his life and health were not in danger, and only then did I come to find you… It’s been twelve days. I don’t know if Cousin Victor has woken up yet,” Clark said.

“…You.”

Howard shook his head with a wry smile. “How could you leave Cousin Victor in the care of the Baselius family? He’s different from ancestor Draven, but he still has the bloodline of a Sun Elf. Auroxia has already advanced to a Legendary-rank life form and can bear another offspring. If this battle causes Cousin Victor’s bloodline to fully transform into a Sun Elf, what do you think Auroxia will do? It would have been better to have Fegchilin take His Highness Randell to the cathedral than to leave him in the Wimbledons’ castle.”

Clark lowered his head and said in a low voice, “Roland Auguste has perished.”

“What?!”

Howard shot to his feet and asked urgently, “Where was Nachtigal at the time?”

“Nachtigal was docked at Whitewater Fortress in the Dodor Kingdom, with our men beside him. I’ve already confirmed it. After Cousin Victor slew the Legendary Great Centaur, Nachtigal set off to return to Eyer without entering the Warton Great Plains. Roland’s demise had nothing to do with him.”

Clark, who had long since processed the shock, raised his head and said calmly, “I’ve seen Roland’s leftover Mithril armor. Her body was completely frozen into elemental ice, which is consistent with the characteristics of assimilation by the Elemental Sea. She probably failed to break through to the legendary realm and couldn’t resist the Elemental Sea’s invasion…”

After a slight pause, he added, “At least, that’s how it appears on the surface.”

A blue light faintly flickered in the depths of Howard’s eyes. He sat back down and asked, “Are you sure she failed to break through to the legendary realm?”

Clark slowly shook his head, his expression grave. “I can’t be sure.”

A Silver Knight would only attempt to break through into the Elemental Sea when they had no other choice and were completely confident; otherwise, they risked being uncontrollably assimilated. Gold Knights had already established a connection with the origin of the world, so losing control was extremely rare. Roland was the youngest Gold Knight of her generation. She had plenty of time to study the legendary realm and was more than capable of controlling her emotions. Although the Legendary Centaur was powerful, it had no army with it. It posed almost no threat to a Gold Knight and was perfectly suited for honing Transcendent combat skills.

How could Roland have perished? How could Victor have allowed the Princess of Gambis to perish?

Clark understood this, yet he offered the explanation of a failed breakthrough without raising any questions. That in itself was a stance.

Having ruled out Nachtigal, Howard thought of Sylvia. She had both the motive and the ability to make the young highness of the August family perish in the wilderness in a way that looked like an accident.

However, no one could implicate Sylvia. Even with his most trusted brother, Howard had to avoid mentioning Sylvia’s name. Clark Testier did the same.

The two men met each other’s gaze, and in the depths of their eyes, they both saw trouble. Great trouble.

Howard tapped his fingers on his knee a few times and said, “Tell me the details of what you saw, one by one.”

Clark nodded and recounted what he had seen and heard in detail, without any subjective judgment.

After listening, Grand Commander Testier asked, “All of His Highness Randell’s equipment was disintegrated into elements, and he had a Snow Monster cloak that someone—you don’t know who—had draped over him?”

Clark said flatly, “Perhaps Roland put it on him. Before Victor could wake up, she was assimilated by the Elemental Sea.”

Testier’s expression turned resentful. If Sylvia was a suspect, then so was Victor. But with a Spirit Knight and a Sun Elf involved, they couldn’t make accusations without irrefutable proof. Even with proof, the Grand Commander and Vice-Commander of the Radiant Knights couldn’t personally take a stand. The most prudent course of action was to arrange for some small fry to spread rumors.

But what was the use of that?

Roland was already dead. Goron Auguste alone could not stand against the two Protectors of the Kingdom. He didn’t want to see Gambis splintered, so even if the truth was laid before him, it could only be a rumor. The fall of Princess Roland Auguste would have to be blamed on the Radiant Knights. She had not listened to their advice and had pursued the Centaur Great Khan, but in the end, she had sacrificed herself answering the call of the red smoke beacon.

The real headache was still to come. To eliminate the fallout and divert the attention of the lords within Gambis, Sylvia, Victor, and Goron would certainly insist that Roland’s death was inextricably linked to the Radiant Knights, and they would draw in the Baselius family for support. To secure the throne, the two Baselius Highnesses also needed to borrow strength from the southern kingdom. The two sides would find it a perfect match.

Dragging Sylvia into the Sasan Empire’s succession struggle would put immense pressure on the Radiant Knights. Worst of all, they had almost no room to maneuver.

Testier was silent for a moment, then nodded. “The news of Roland’s death cannot be released immediately. Having Andria take Cousin Victor was the right move.”

“What do we do next? In the Gambis large diocese, the bishops with enough influence to communicate with Sylvia and Aerie Fortress are Saen and Pello. They are students of Tamor and Clement, respectively. Both of those Patriarchs are interested in the Inquisition,” Clark asked.

The Sasan Empire and the Inquisition were both very important to the Radiant Knights. Howard pondered for a long time but couldn’t think of a solution that would satisfy both sides. A helpless and ironic smile appeared on his face.

“Nachtigal did nothing and just scurried back like that. He didn’t even dare to fight for the prestige we offered him, only thinking of avoiding suspicion. How can he bargain with us looking like that? I think Neo Wester will probably have a showdown with him this time.”

The Radiant Knights had pushed for Elizabeth Frederick to contend for the Sasan throne. Of course, they needed to use the First Paladin’s reputation to fend off pressure from the Baselius family. Allowing Nachtigal to gain the prestige of hunting down the Centaur Great Khan was part of their agreement. With Nachtigal avoiding Sylvia, the Radiant Knights had no choice but to enter the fray personally.

In fact, there was internal debate within the Radiant Knights over whether the Sasan throne should go to Elizabeth or Siegfried. The Testier family had needed Nachtigal to act as their shield, but that was now impossible.

“We can only rely on ourselves.” Howard Testier’s gaze firmed, and he stood up. “Bring the camp’s Beast-tongue Shaman. You’ll accompany me to meet the Centaur Great Khan’s spouse, end this war, and formally declare victory to the kingdoms.”

Clark’s eyes lit up, and he also stood. “Are you confident in your promotion to Legendary? You know, and I have to remind you, it’s easier for a Paladin to advance to Gold rank than an ordinary Knight, but advancing to Legendary is more dangerous than for an ordinary Gold Knight.”

High-ranked Paladins had almost no true faith in the Lord of Radiance. The Mark of Light and the Sacred Domain could protect their souls from the Elemental Sea’s erosion, but the Sacred Domain was, after all, only a level four divine art. When a Gold Paladin delved deep into the Elemental Sea to reach for the legendary realm, the Sacred Domain’s protection was minuscule. But the Mark of Light still held potential. It needed the praise, adoration, support, and even worship of believers—which was equivalent to the power of faith. The more faith the Mark of Light gathered, the stronger the Paladin’s protection. This was why the Radiant Knights tirelessly fought beastmen and monsters to open up new territories.

Grand Commander Testier’s eyes burned as he said, “We are raising the curtain on the counter-offensive into the Northern Wildlands and the recovery of humanity’s homeland. If this isn’t enough for me to advance to Legendary, I have nothing more to say. Besides, victory is certain now. There are only three hundred thousand Centaurs left, less than half are warriors, and most of those are female. The rest are old, weak, or young. We can let them go, let them fight to the death with other beastmen in the east. This victory will at least produce two Highnesses for the Testier family. Even if I perish, I won’t have to worry about the family’s ranking.”

Clark smiled. “If you hadn’t made up your mind, I was going to risk it myself.”

Howard also smiled. “You and Strange can wait a bit longer, until the Westdon Khanate becomes a Pioneer Fief and the number of believers doubles.”

The Grand Commander of the Radiant Knights was the popular choice, and thus gathered the most power of faith. Howard inevitably had to shoulder his family’s responsibility.

Clark nodded, then asked, “As for the Centaurs, what are our terms?”

Howard said coldly, “They must leave before the first snowflake falls, or they won’t be leaving at all.”

Clark pondered for a moment and said, “This will create a female Centaur Great Khan.”

The ice-blue in Grand Commander Testier’s eyes slowly swirled as he responded in a grim tone:

“We have no choice, time is short… Once I advance to Legendary, I have many questions I need to ask Trigovar first.”

Chapter 678: Saint Realm

The centaurs of the Westdon Khanate gathered in the territory of the Whitetail tribe, braving the ceaseless freezing rain. They had abandoned their homes. The old, the weak, the young, heavily pregnant females, and the few remaining male warriors shouldered their beast-hide tents, carried their grain and belongings, and drove their small number of goblin slaves onto the path of migration, a great flood of life.

A procession like this had little combat strength. Human cavalry, like packs of wolves, trailed them from a distance but did not attack. They had received orders from the Radiant Knights to let the centaurs willing to leave their lands go, and to only monitor and apply pressure.

The land was frozen, and supplies were scarce. Both the centaurs and the human armies were exhausted, with no strength left to wage another large-scale battle.

Before the snowy season arrived, the Whitetail tribe, its strength relatively intact, finally led the vast column of centaurs eastward. Aside from a few elite scouts who continued to track them, the human cavalry units remained where they were, watching the centaurs depart. When their figures vanished over the horizon, a tidal wave of cheers erupted from all of them.

A female centaur with beautiful markings and tan-colored horns stopped and looked back, gazing at the homeland she could no longer see. Every Legendary Centaur dreamed of ruling all the tribes and, as the Great Khan, leading the centaurs to seize the richer lands to the east. It was true for Orogar, and it was true for Polta, but Alita had never imagined that she would become the leader of all the tribes in this way, leading the old, the weak, and the battle-worn to vie with the eastern beastmen for living space in such a season.

If that human leader had not been lying, the centaurs would be fortunate, for the beastmen tribes of the east were mired in civil war. Even if it was a lie, Alita had no other choice. The human armies had proven to be mightier than the eastern beastmen, and colder than a blizzard.

The war with the humans was over; the war with other beastmen was about to begin. Alita had united all the strength of the centaur tribes, achieving what the two Legendary Great Centaurs had not. Her hind hooves tapped lightly on the ground. Feeling the life and hope within her womb, she turned and walked east without looking back.

On the 21st day of the 13th month of Radiant Year 7574, in the season of freezing rain, the curtain finally fell on the victorious war between the human kingdoms and the centaurs. The warriors of Sasan, Naville, Dodor, Gambis, Sus, and Borui embraced enthusiastically, throwing each other’s helmets into the air. This year’s snowy season was fast approaching. Their families, awaiting their triumphant return, had surely prepared sumptuous food, warm hearths, and soft, comfortable beds, ready to listen to their tales of battle a hundred times over without tiring. But for now, the warriors would not leave the wilderness. This was the land they had conquered, and there were still many beastmen remnants for them to clear out.

When the flowers bloomed next spring, the reinforcement soldiers from the southern kingdoms would return home, while the soldiers of Sasan and Dodor would rotate out for rest and recuperation. But the news of victory seemed to have grown wings, flying across the vast wilderness to every corner of the human kingdoms.

Churches great and small rang their bells of victory. Resident priests summoned bards and handed them carefully selected battle reports. The poets, following the Church’s requirements, polished and revised the course of the war, weaving it into epic tales. Only when the priests were satisfied did they take these stories to taverns, inns, and other crowded places to sing and spread the word.

The Church had a wealth of experience in guiding public opinion. With the clergy of the major dioceses pushing with all their might, the people were plunged into a sea of joy.

The rainy and snowy season was an annual holiday period. Whether noble or commoner, all would hold various gatherings, and the Empire’s victory over the beastmen was naturally the main topic of conversation this year. But discerning individuals would notice that, compared to the topics of smaller wars in previous years, the versions of the stories circulating this year seemed to deliberately downplay the influence of the Friedrich Imperial Family. The heroic performance of Princess Freya Friedrich and Duchess Baselius in the Battle of the Little Calf Village Barracks, also known as the Battle of Vengeance, was seldom mentioned. Correspondingly, the glorious deed of the Gold-Eyed Earl pursuing the Centaur Great Khan alone and beheading him deep in the Great Plains to avenge Emperor Friedrich and Grand Duke Friedrich for their blood feud was told and retold with great fanfare.

There was another unusual point. The epic tales sung by the bards all invariably mentioned the names of several Paladins, especially the Grand Commander of the Radiant Knights, His Excellency Howard Testier, the Divine Light. He was said to have led several Paladins and his cousin, the Gold-Eyed Earl, into the even more distant east to behead the King of Beastmen, winning the decisive victory in this war.

The common folk paid no attention to the political meaning behind these stories. They only knew that the Paladins had rallied the armies of the kingdoms, defeated the centaurs, and conquered a land vaster than the Sasan Empire itself. Now, everyone had the chance to strike it rich in a Pioneer Fief. After all, the King of Beastmen in the east had already been eliminated, and it was all thanks to His Excellency, the Divine Light, and his cousin, the Gold-Eyed Earl of Gambis.

In the western part of the Sasan Empire, snowflakes drifted down, blanketing the rolling mountain forests in a layer of pure white. Windbell Castle, home of Earl Wimbledon, stood like a giant amidst the swirling wind and snow. In the castle’s exquisitely decorated master bedroom, fires burned in four hearths, filling the room of over a hundred square meters with a cozy warmth. Victor lay quietly on a large, soft, comfortable goose-down bed, oblivious to the disturbances of the outside world.

He was not unconscious, merely immersed—lost in the wondrous and magnificent world of his soul, reluctant to interrupt his exploration, and thus slow to awaken.

Father Miller had once helped him enter a state of soul-scrutiny, but he had been forced to end that brief exploration because his soul had begun to Boil to a dangerous degree.

This time was different.

Using the wind elementalization of Void Walk to slay the Legendary Great Centaur had exhausted Victor’s vigor, and his spirit had plunged into a thoughtless darkness. In this darkness of consciousness, his Soul Fire was able to rest and replenish itself. The first thing it did was illuminate the soul itself. Victor once again “saw” the Will Side of his soul light up point by point, resuming its operation, and discovered much information that was valuable but had been weakened.

Yes, weakened. A selective weakening caused by X-3.

Everyone’s energy is finite. When you concentrate on something, your brain automatically weakens irrelevant external information, turning a blind eye and a deaf ear. When you close your eyes to listen to music, you hear it more clearly because “useless” visual information has been filtered out by the brain. Memorizing things in a quiet environment is more effective because the part of the brain responsible for processing sound information is left idle.

A person interacts with a massive amount of information, both internal and external, every day. To know everything and remember everything would make one an omniscient god, certainly not human.

X-3 could make this filtering more efficient.

During Victor’s life-and-death duel with the Centaur Great Khan, the battle situation changed in an instant. X-3 enhanced combat-related information and threw all useless information into the “trash,” allowing Victor to enter a state of combat focus and temporarily boosting his Spirit attribute.

Every step leaves a trace. A person can forget things they don’t care about, but it’s impossible to completely delete information they’ve received. In certain situations, memory can piece together a sense of déjà vu.

Ultimately, X-3 was just a new functional area of the brain; it couldn’t delete memories either. During his body’s reconstruction after elementalization, all the information that had been deemed useless was illuminated by his Soul Fire. Victor “watched” with great relish, benefiting immensely.

In his battle with the centaur, every sword strike against his opponent sent back information. Through the vibrations, he perceived relevant data about the enemy, such as the next move prompted by a shift in their center of gravity, detailed down to the movement of muscle driving bone. X-3 compiled and calculated this complex combat information, allowing Victor to predict the centaur’s subsequent counterattacks as if he were prescient, keeping the rhythm of the battle firmly in his grasp.

Knights and deeply savaged warriors also possessed the ability to make accurate predictions—one through elemental perception, the other through combat intuition—but their application of power and perception of the enemy were not as minutely detailed as Victor’s. Conversely, by filtering out emotions, X-3 also cut off the potential of his spiritual instincts.

How did High Elves fight?

It was the wind… another form of spiritual instinct, born of their bloodline. This too had been weakened by X-3.

During this deep viewing of his soul, Victor discovered the feedback from his void wind element after it penetrated his enemy. The omnipresent wind element was like his sense of touch, allowing him to perceive the gaps in the Centaur Great Khan’s elemental manipulation. The rigid X-3 had actually treated such precious information as garbage that had to be weakened!

In his Void Walk state, Victor’s wind element power was at its peak, and his perception of the centaur’s elemental manipulation was extremely clear. Yet X-3 had faithfully executed its existing calculation methods, nearly producing a fatal result. Fortunately, Victor had perceived the gap in the centaur’s elemental manipulation, and fortunately, in his elementalized form, he could easily shut down X-3.

This was precisely the Insight talent he had longed to obtain.

Having found the crux of the problem and gained practical experience, Victor began to modify X-3’s functions, incorporating wind element perception into its calculations and setting it as a high priority.

Insight, an overlooked bloodline talent, was originally the Root Talent of the elven bloodline Talent Tree. It had evolved into extraordinary agility, extraordinary perception, Wind Walk, Blind Sense, and Wind Whisper. The ability of Insight grew with the bloodline; once it surpassed Wind Whisper, one could perceive both enemy and self on the elemental level.

Victor’s Wind Whisper had been changed to Nemesis due to his dual Talent Tree, but this did not prevent the Root Talent, Insight, from advancing.

As a passive Root Talent, a top-tier Insight greatly enhanced and optimized all the abilities of the elven Talent Tree. This included improving the efficiency of Surge, allowing Victor to recover faster and gain greater power and defense.

Because the Surge talent was connected to the human bloodline Talent Tree, Self-Heal, Body of Gossamer, and Body of Bedrock were all enhanced simultaneously.

Victor was now far more powerful than before; his former self was simply incomparable.

Compared to the growth of his extraordinary abilities, Victor valued the acquisition of new knowledge more. Slowly reviewing the information brought by Insight at the level of the soul, Victor discovered that the wind element damage he inflicted on the Centaur Great Khan had prompted its bloodline to awaken rapidly. This was an evolutionary process that would normally take a race tens of thousands of years, yet it had completed its life’s evolution in just a few hours. After all, the Taelon World was different from Earth; it had elements. The Legendary Great Centaur’s Semi-elementalization allowed it to grow rapidly to the point of breakthrough.

What the centaur could do, Victor could also do. In fact, to control the pace of the battle, Victor had grown stronger as the centaur did. The activity of his bloodline was trained, and his Spirit attribute broke through its previous limits.

With this increase in spiritual strength, Victor could now observe his soul with ease, adjusting his bloodline Talent Tree with the authority of the Mind’s Dominator.

Victor finally understood why he could elementalize into wind. That seemingly insignificant Self-Heal talent was the root of what distinguished him from a Sun Elf. At its core, Self-Heal restored one to their original state. It remembered Victor’s life form, preventing him from growing wings, a tail, or turning into some other strange creature. After elementalizing, Victor relied completely on the memory of his Self-Heal talent to restore his life form.

According to this theory, Victor was nearly impossible to kill. As long as the memory of his Self-Heal talent remained stable, he could recover from any fatal attack by transforming into wind. The only exception was if his vigor was depleted and he was unable to transform. With his current spiritual strength, Victor could continuously cast Void Walk twice, with a thirty-hour recovery period. If he used Void Walk in conjunction with top-tier Insight to counter-kill an enemy, his vigor would reach a dangerous level, only allowing him to maintain ten seconds of Wind Walk for escape, after which he would fall into a very deep coma.

Therefore, Victor decided to first fix the flaws in X-3, and then optimize his Self-Heal talent.

Modifying the Talent Tree was a delicate operation where a single change could affect everything. X-3 was linked to the memory of Self-Heal; if X-3 failed, Self-Heal would fail, and then the entire dual Talent Tree would collapse.

Victor modified it with extreme care, touching upon hundreds of bloodline laws. Fortunately, during this process of elemental reconstruction, a small error wasn’t something to fear. Void water element was continuously pouring in; from his soul to his body, he was undergoing a rebirth. Victor believed this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. His Spirit attribute had reached its peak and was now stabilizing. In the future, he could easily restore himself and still be active for a while, but he would not be able to re-enter the domain of the soul.

Such a precious opportunity could not be wasted. Victor tested and retested, modified and remodified, accumulating a vast amount of practical experience with the Mind Bloodline secret art. He finally expanded X-3’s functions to include top-tier Insight.

The final form of X-3 determined the room for improvement in the Self-Heal talent. Unfortunately, the effect of optimizing Self-Heal was not significant. After using his ultimate move of wind elementalization combined with Insight, his ten-second Wind Walk time increased to eighteen seconds—better than nothing.

Well, if the optimization of his Self-Heal talent had been too significant, Victor might have already kicked the bucket.

However, optimizing the Self-Heal talent had a knock-on effect on Body of Gossamer and Body of Bedrock, and he also gained two new human bloodline talents.

Overall, Self-Heal was the Root Talent of the human bloodline Talent Tree. It could be categorized under Vital Tenacity, which included resistance adaptation, while its essence was the restoration of one’s own state.

Since it could restore, the potential of Body of Bedrock and Body of Gossamer was also unleashed. If their previous limit was thirty percent effectiveness, increasing it to forty percent would not burden Victor, as he could restore himself to a stable life form.

Earth element resistance brought Body of Bedrock; wind resistance brought Body of Gossamer. The changes in resistance to water and fire elements were also accommodated by the Self-Heal talent.

Heart of Flame: Increased water element resistance. A maximum of twelve percent increase in the Spirit attribute, with a synchronous six percent increase in Physique and Perception attributes. It was a conventional passive combat talent, equivalent to constantly maintaining an Overlimit state without inducing a mechanical mind.

Soul of Water Mist: Increased fire element resistance and affinity for the water element. Rapidly restores stamina and vigor, and accelerates self-healing. Allows him to absorb void water element through his skin, rendering breathing through his nose and mouth unnecessary and slowing his heartbeat. As long as there was water in the ground, Victor wouldn’t die even if buried alive.

Soul of Water Mist was an active talent derived from the Life Concealment of the Golden Toad Mystic Form. The calmer his spirit, the longer it lasted and the better its effect. Victor was currently in the state of Soul of Water Mist; he had not eaten or drunk for thirty-four days without any issue.

Any longer, however, would be a problem. Victor felt himself grow famished. If he didn’t get up to eat now, he would truly starve to death.

Victor opened his dark gold eyes and surveyed the lavish, feminine bedroom. He sat up on the bed, walked barefoot to the window, and pushed open the colored crystal panes. A cold wind rushed violently into the room, causing the hearth fires to flicker and sway, on the verge of being extinguished.

He exhaled toward the snow-covered world outside the window. The cold wind was instantly driven back, whipping forward in a mad dance of clinging snowflakes. The gale grew fiercer and fiercer, finally becoming a storm, like a cyan-black serpent of wind and snow. It swept past a red pine tree a hundred meters away. The treetop sheared off smoothly and crashed to the ground with a creak and a groan, causing a commotion among the people below.

An exhaled breath becomes a gale, the wind itself a blade. This was not an ability of a Sun Elf, nor of a human.

Victor no longer cared about his racial identity. He was the Mind’s Dominator, a Sanctuary-rank expert.

The bedroom door was pushed open from the outside. The blonde, blue-eyed Charlotte rushed in, holding up her spider silk long dress. Seeing Victor, her eyes instantly reddened, and she cried out with excitement, “My love, you’re awake!”

Victor turned his now fully dark gold eyes to his Sworn Knight and favored mistress and said with a smile, “My love, I don’t care where this is, just get me a table full of food.”

“…I’m so hungry I could eat a whole cow.”

Chapter 679: The Significance of Insight

His Highness Randell wanted to eat. While it was impossible for Windbell Castle to prepare a whole cow on such short notice, putting together a sumptuous feast was a simple matter.

Charlotte led the attendants, who brought in an endless stream of white bread, roasted meats, thick soups, desserts, and fresh fruits and vegetables from the crystal greenhouse, filling the small dining table in the bedroom to the brim.

Victor sat at the table, eating with focused speed. He felt, for the first time, that eating was an incredibly pleasant affair. After all, converting matter into a part of oneself through consumption was the most fundamental law for all living things, and the void water element could never truly replace real food.

Different foods quickly disappeared into his mouth, and every cell in his body rejoiced. The feeling of hunger and thirst gradually faded. Victor felt a sliver of satisfaction, regained his usual calm elegance, and slowly savored the flavored dessert—the true test of a chef’s skill—with a silver spoon. At the same time, he pricked up his ears, listening for any valuable, subtle sounds within the castle.

After finishing the dessert, Victor had a general understanding of his surroundings.

This was the western border of the Sasan Empire, the Wimbledon family’s Windbell Town, and Windbell Castle. Its location within the Wimbledon Earldom was rather remote, separated from the earldom’s capital city by a vassal’s fief, yet it was directly under the jurisdiction of the Wimbledon female earl, making it something of a private resort town for Andria.

Andria herself was on the top floor of the castle. The female earl’s husband and two children had not come. Interestingly, Cardinal Fergocilin of the Sasan Empire’s western diocese was also currently at the small church in Windbell Town.

Windbell Castle had two guests of honored status, yet the female earl’s husband and children were not here. This in itself indicated that Andria and her husband had officially separated. Their intimate partner relationship had come to an end, with only the marital ties of their families remaining. Perhaps even that familial marital bond could not be maintained for long.

Andria’s husband was the younger male cousin of Duke Baselius. His bloodline was even nobler than his wife’s, and he even had a chance to reach the pinnacle. Andria’s refusal to let him advance to the Silver rank had already become unbearable for him. Their relationship had fractured. Unless Andria advanced to Gold Knight, it would be difficult for them to go back to how things were. Her husband had already fulfilled his duty to the Baselius family by leaving the Wimbledon Earldom with two children. Once he was granted his own fief, he would most likely establish his own family and use that to cement his knight’s conviction.

If Victor and Sophia hadn’t reconciled, their current relationship would be just like that of the female earl and her husband: maintaining the official status of a political marriage with no other entanglement.

In short, the Wimbledon female earl and her husband could now each seek new partners, and Andria was clearly preparing to court His Highness Randell in Windbell Castle.

Gale Knights had sharp perception. The sound of the tree snapping just now must have confirmed for Andria that Victor had awakened from his deep slumber. She didn’t hurry down to greet him, wanting to give Victor more time to first communicate with the Randall family’s attendants and understand the current situation.

The third floor of Windbell Castle, where Victor was staying, was entirely occupied by the Randall family’s attendants and entourage. The little attendants who had delivered food earlier had all returned to their own rooms, leaving only Victor and Charlotte in the spacious and luxurious master bedroom.

He put down his spoon, his gaze naturally turning to his beautiful concubine.

Charlotte had gone out earlier to prepare the food and had deliberately changed into a light, thin, low-cut, cinched-waist petal dress made of spider silk. Her blonde hair was let down, her skin as white as snow. Seeing the fire in Victor’s eyes, a shy blush appeared on her face. She lowered her head with a small smile, and her fair, slender hand reached for her waist. The spider silk sash holding the petal dress in place drifted to the floor.

The next afternoon, Victor was refreshed and invigorated. The former indifference in his dark gold eyes had completely vanished, replaced by their old vitality. They had become full of emotion again, and his mind was clearer and sharper.

Any intelligent life that directly interacted with void elements would face the same hidden danger. The humanity part of the Will Side would be scoured by the power of the world’s origin, making his emotions cold and causing him to gradually lose interest in everything in the real world. Victor had neither eaten nor drunk, absorbing the void water element for a full thirty-two days. Had it been a Silver Knight, it would likely have been impossible to reverse the process of elemental assimilation. Victor wouldn’t be assimilated by the Elemental Sea, but he would become listless, first losing his emotions and interests, and finally even his sense of hunger. He would wander about aimlessly, too lazy to even form a thought, until death claimed him.

Andria was an Extraordinary Knight and possessed the legacy of Sword Saint Draven. She had a set of methods to resolve the drawbacks of Victor’s deep slumber, including arranging fine food and beautiful women. Perhaps there was even a hunting game waiting for Victor.

Victor had indeed shown signs of listlessness before, focusing only on his meal, unwilling to think. But his symptoms of losing humanity weren’t severe. His human bloodline had sounded a warning with the sensation of hunger, pulling him back from the brink of danger. After a night of tender passion with Charlotte, His Highness Randell completely returned to normal. His wisdom returned, and Andria’s subsequent arrangements were likely all for naught.

A blissful, contented smile hung on the lips of the languidly charming Charlotte. All her worries, sorrows, and anxieties were now replaced by sweetness. She knelt on the bed, dressing her beloved master. When Victor tried to do it himself, he was met with a pouty, reproachful glare.

Dressing the handsome His Highness Randell was a privilege and pleasure that few women could enjoy.

Charlotte spent a full two and a half hours, first seeing to Victor’s attire, then meticulously making the bed. She then changed into a spare long dress, put her hair up, and adorned her long, elegant neck with a blue diamond pendant and matching earrings. Only then did she pull the servant’s bell by the bed to summon the family attendants into the room and direct them to clear the small dining table.

After the cleaning was done, the blonde-haired, green-eyed Charlotte smoothed her skirt and sat beside Victor, casually linking her arm with his. “Your Highness,” she said affectionately, “you can receive the family attendants for an audience now.”

Looking at the sworn female knight, who was radiant and even more stunning in her courtly long dress and noblewoman’s attire, Victor chuckled to himself. Sworn Knight was Charlotte’s part-time job; noblewoman and favored mistress was her true calling.

The sworn female knight had already been doted on. The Gold-Eyed Earl turned his gaze to his entourage and attendants. One by one, they stepped forward to greet their master, briefly recount their experiences during this time, answer their master’s questions, and receive his encouragement.

The beastmen war was over. Of the twenty-four noble attendants Victor had brought from Silver Moon Manor, only twenty-one remained. Of the other three little attendants, one had died in battle, and two were missing. The missing ones’ whereabouts were still unknown, and they were unlikely to survive. In fact, the search for them had already been called off, just waiting for Victor to announce their deaths so the Church could officially add their names to the list of the fallen.

Judged by the battles Victor had participated in, the casualty rate of the Silver Moon Attendants was astonishingly low. Even when considered in the context of the defensive battle at Little Calf Village, this level of attrition was quite ordinary.

Of course, having received extra protection, the Silver Moon Attendants hadn’t made much progress either.

Among the twenty-one survivors, only one had naturally awakened his Aura and become an apprentice knight. The rest showed no signs of change. Their average age was over sixteen, so their chances of a natural awakening were growing slim. However, they had experienced war and taken the cleansing potion specially made by Aerie Fortress. Their probability of a non-natural awakening would be slightly higher. With diligent practice of the Knight-path Mind Bloodline secret art in the future, they should be able to go further.

However, with the refinement of the Knight-path Mind Bloodline secret art, the younger noble-blooded attendants at Silver Moon Manor had a much greater chance of natural awakening. Victor was now full of confidence about this.

Klaus was a pleasant surprise for Victor. He wouldn’t turn seventeen until next June, yet he had already resonated with eleven Elemental Nodes and was just one step away from becoming a full knight. With his character, practicing the Knight-path bloodline secret art, he could look forward to becoming an Extraordinary Knight. As for Brandon, he could advance to full knight at any time. After all, he was a bloodline meticulously cultivated by the old Marquess Sorim. If he had trouble even advancing to the Bronze-rank, he might as well go find a loaf of cream bread and bash his head in. Advancing to Silver Knight was Brandon’s true goal.

Of the five Ferocious warriors, besides Narsen and Caligula, Macy, Red Wolf, and Rogers had all survived. Among them, Macy’s performance was the most outstanding. In the defensive battle at Little Calf Village, she had cut down thirteen Centaur warriors with her own hands, drenched in blood, incredibly valiant. With one eye blinded, she used grappling techniques to strangle a Dire Centaur commander to death and ignited her fire of the mind in the process. The soldiers who participated in the battle at Little Calf Village called her “Blood Python Macy.”

Ferocious warriors could be considered human early-warning systems, and every lord loved having Ferocious warrior personal guards. However, different levels of Ferocious warriors portended different levels of danger. An ordinary ferocious monster would certainly not trigger Narsen’s sense of threat. Unless he mastered the Touch of the Mind, no enemy below the Silver rank could trigger his danger sense. This created a blind spot for the Ferocious warriors. Macy, having ignited her fire of the mind, now had strength comparable to a veteran Bronze Knight, which nicely completed the warning system of the Randall personal guard.

In truth, Victor’s personal guard was nothing to brag about. They were largely separate from their master’s battles and currently served only as an organization for His Highness Randell to cultivate his core confidants.

During this all-out war, the Randall family’s personal guard had not suffered heavy losses. Victor had sent them to the pioneering outpost in the Ghost Forest early on, and some others, under the guise of being Liaison Officers for His Highness Randell, had followed the major knightly orders to observe the war and learn tactical command experience.

The Randall family’s four hundred elite cavalry, however, had suffered disastrous losses. After the battle at Little Calf Village, only eighty-six survived, all of them Vassal soldiers from Laketon. As for the Alchemical humans, all had died in battle, including the level-three Gryphon Militiamen Victor had assigned to the two Great Knights, Terlanden and Jiris. Not a single one was left.

Those fellows were painfully straightforward. When told to attack, they did so regardless of life or death. Without orders to stop, they pursued the centaurs even as they retreated. The warriors who nearly buried the Centaur Great Khan were almost all Victor’s Alchemical humans.

Fortunately, Alchemy Tower No. 7 was currently carrying out the task of endlessly producing third-level Source-Blood Militia. By the time Victor returned, the lost Alchemical humans should all be replaced.

Victor offered a few words of encouragement to Macy, promising on the spot to ask a High-ranked Priest to heal her eye and restore her appearance. The attendants’ audience concluded, and they all left the room. Victor looked at Narsen, who had stayed behind, and then at the goofy-looking Caligula. He asked with a smile, “Narsen, you look dejected. Don’t tell me that Centaur Chiliarch didn’t give you a satisfying fight?”

Narsen composed himself and said with a wry smile, “My lord, I cut in from the Centaur Chiliarch’s side. It couldn’t hit me, and I couldn’t damage it… Wherever I could strike, the Centaur Chiliarch maintained its extraordinary defense. So, I later chose to attack from the front and grasped some of the mysteries of the Touch of the Mind. Just as I was about to kill it, the big simpleton suddenly ran over and killed the Centaur Chiliarch.”

“Warrior Aka saved stupid bear Narsen,” Caligula said in a booming voice, shaking his head. He had given himself the title of Warrior; before, he had always called himself “the brave Aka.”

Victor smiled and said to Narsen, “I believe in Aka, and I believe in you… Don’t move. Relax. Don’t resist the wind…”

A current of air manifested around Narsen, enveloping him. Out of trust for his master, Narsen relaxed his body and mind, allowing the flowing air to permeate his pores and skin and circulate through his body with his blood.

After a long while, the airflow surrounding Narsen dissipated. Victor opened his eyes, smiled, and nodded. “You’ve made progress.”

When an individual’s strength reached Narsen’s level, even the slightest progress became extremely difficult. And even if there was progress, Victor would have been unable to confirm it. He didn’t have the Insight ability before, so how could he have known the specific details of Narsen’s life form?

The one who had truly progressed was Victor, and it was a tremendous step forward.

By using the wind element to gain Insight into Narsen’s physical condition, Victor could now perceive his inner potential, the external forces acting upon him, and the state of his elemental circulation in real time. Although this test showed that the Insight talent couldn’t observe Narsen’s soul, Victor, drawing on his practical experience of adjusting the human bloodline’s laws as the Mind’s Dominator, could now reference Narsen’s actual physical state to design a tailor-made Mind Bloodline secret art for him.

The Source Blood Secret Art Victor designed could only provide foundational training for Mind Warriors; it couldn’t construct a Bloodline Talent Tree on its own. The third-level Source Blood Secret Art with the Vital Tenacity Talent had been perfected with Master Tofwen’s help, and even then, Aerie Fortress and Centaur Hills had provided numerous test subjects, allowing Victor and Master Tofwen to compare and contrast different experimental results.

Master Tofwen could observe the bloodline variations in the test subjects, while Victor was an expert in the theories and Forging Methods of the Mind Bloodline. Through their sincere cooperation and the expenditure of countless resources, they had managed to create a half-finished Vital Tenacity Talent.

Although the fruits of their research could be popularized among soldiers, they were still a far cry from the Mind Warriors Victor envisioned.

Mind Warriors had to possess a complete Talent Tree.

Master Tofwen’s life was drawing to a close, and the extraordinary Wizardry that allowed him to observe bloodline variations would be taken to the grave with him upon his death.

For Aerie Fortress, and for Victor, this would be a major loss. Now, Victor had mastered the wind element’s Insight, allowing him to train Mind Warriors himself.

Whether the specific method could be popularized was still an unknown, but Victor was certain he could cultivate powerful Mind Warriors, and it wouldn’t take long.

The Insight talent might be a method the High Elves use to defeat their enemies, but in Victor’s hands, it possessed extraordinary creative value. It was His Highness Randell’s unique ability!

To monopolize the legacy system of an extraordinary power—the significance of this could be understood by looking at the Church’s legacy of divine arts. Of course, the scale certainly couldn’t compare to the Church’s more than one hundred thousand clergy, but the nature was essentially the same. Besides, a smaller scale had its advantages. The mid- and high-rank Mind Warriors personally trained by Victor wouldn’t form a third power that would draw the wary eyes of the Church and the Knight-Nobles. Victor could also manage them easily, treating them as his Secret Art Guard. If the number of mid- and high-rank Mind Warriors became too large, any attempt by Victor to control them would only result in a backlash.

Things were good as they were. The number of Mind Warriors would be small but elite enough, and as long as the House of Randell could provide for them, there would be no need to worry about loyalty. At the very least, to a certain extent, the Mind Warriors personally cultivated by Victor could replace the function of the Alchemy Tower.

Of course, he would not abandon Alchemy Tower No. 7. The creation of alchemical creatures and the legacy of the Mind Warriors were his left and right fists, ensuring he could maintain and command a powerful military force.

Victor suppressed his inner excitement and said with a calm and nonchalant air, “I’ll give you another hand when we get back to the Randell Fief.”

Unexpectedly, Narsen did not press for details, and the smile on his face seemed forced. Victor’s gaze hardened, and he frowned. “What happened?”

The atmosphere in the room suddenly grew heavy. The simple-minded Caligula didn’t know what was going on, but he could sense that everyone’s mood was down. He ‘cleverly’ covered his mouth with his hand.

Narsen hesitated for a moment, then respectfully handed Victor a small box from beside him. “My lord, your Eagle Wing Bow and cape are in the storage room outside… Your ring is on your hand, and your other personal items are all in this box… Everything else on your person is gone.”

Victor paused, recalling the scene. “Are you saying that after I killed the Centaur Great Khan, all my clothes were gone… I was naked? Then… what about my quiver?”

Narsen shook his head. “This is all we could find.”

The Saron Demon Iron arrows were gone. Victor clicked his tongue in dismay. He opened the box and found the Bone Bead, the Purple Gold Coin charm, and the Marvelous Crystal he had discovered in Little Calf Village.

The Saron Demon Iron arrows were gone, but they could be forged again. As long as these treasures weren’t lost… Victor’s mood improved considerably. He pinched the Marvelous Crystal and said with a smile, “It’s quite rare that the princess didn’t take these things… Where is the Princess now? She must have dragged away the centaur’s corpse, right?”

The room instantly fell silent. Victor saw Caligula trying to mimic Narsen in controlling his heartbeat and breathing, and then noticed Charlotte circulating her Aura. His expression gradually turned grave.

Narsen felt an immense pressure from Victor’s gaze. He gritted his teeth and said, “The Legendary Centaur’s body is still here… His Highness Roland Auguste has perished.”

Chapter 680: Before the Storm

“Haha, Narsen, are you joking with me? This isn’t like you… Did Roland force you to say this?” Victor asked, stunned for a moment before bursting into laughter.

His laughter gradually faded, and the air in the room seemed to stand still. Narsen lowered his head even further, his hands resting obediently on his knees, his eyes fixed on their backs as he sat in silence.

Victor glanced at Charlotte, who was as meek as a little white rabbit, then shifted his gaze to Caligula. With a gentle smile, he asked, “Aka, tell me, where is the Princess?”

Aka, ever the shrewd one, saw his master’s smile and knew that if he didn’t answer, he wouldn’t be getting any dinner today. He quickly uncovered his mouth and mumbled, “I know… The Princess is in the ice cellar under the castle. She turned into an ice sculpture. She can’t talk to Aka, and she doesn’t eat… Aka was sad about it.”

Victor’s heart sank to the very bottom, but he paradoxically grew calm. He let out a long breath and said to Narsen, “Tell me everything that happened, in detail.”

“Yes,” Narsen nodded, and proceeded to tell Victor everything he had seen and heard, from beginning to end.

After listening to Narsen’s account, Victor pondered for a moment, then stood up and gave his orders. “Charlotte, help me with my armor. Narsen, Aka, go and prepare. You will accompany me to the site of the incident on the Great Plains.”

That night, the vast, white expanse of the Great Plains reflected the dim moonlight. A herd of wild bison was faintly visible in the distance, and the howls of wolves echoed across the boundless, empty snowfields.

Victor stood on the white snow, gazing into the distance. There was nothing unusual within his line of sight. A soft layer of snow covered the half-foot-tall withered grass, obscuring all traces of what had come before. Dozens of days ago, his battle with the Legendary Centaur had cracked the earth and sent grass flying; their path had been a scene of utter devastation, like a natural disaster. Now, the wild bison had returned to these plains, and hungry wolves were busy hunting for prairie gophers under the snow, coveting the old, weak, and young within the herd. It was as if nothing had ever happened.

The cold night wind carried flurries of snow through the air, like fleeting phantoms under the flickering moonlight. Victor’s gaze remained fixed on the unseen south. He frowned in silent contemplation, only turning to Narsen and Caligula when the sky began to pale. “We’re returning to Windbell Town. I want to see Roland’s armor.”

Steam rose from Narsen’s body, melting and evaporating any snowflake that drew near. Caligula, however, was covered head to toe in frost and snow. At Victor’s command, the ice and frost clinging to his body instantly shattered and were swept away by the night wind. He strode forward, his two thick legs plowing a path through the snow.

It was the morning of the next day when they returned to Windbell Town. Victor led Narsen, Caligula, and Charlotte into Windbell Castle’s ice cellar. Two Alchemical Soldiers stood guard at the entrance.

Narsen explained in a low voice, “My lord, after we brought the Princess’s remains back to Windbell Castle, Countess Wimbledon suggested we temporarily suppress the news and wait for you to awaken before making a decision. She proactively withdrew the guards and servants from near the ice cellar and had our Secret Art Guards take over, forbidding anyone else from approaching.”

Victor nodded, noncommittal, and was the first to step inside.

Windbell Castle’s ice cellar was quite spacious. Several redwood statues inlaid with fluorescent gems served as candelabras, their dim, cold light barely illuminating a Chillstone Dais in the center of the cellar. This was a companion ore of water element crystals, a rare material with natural, low-temperature properties, typically placed in basements by great lords to serve as a cold source for their ice cellars.

An ice-crystal effigy, dressed in magnificent Mithril battle armor, lay silently on the two-meter-square Chillstone Dais. The sword, “Water Sprite’s Sigh,” was placed by “her” side, with a Snow Monster cloak resting next to it.

The ice sculpture’s features were the spitting image of Roland, and a faint green light seemed to flow within it under the frigid, dim light. “Her” expression was serene and peaceful, like a slumbering ice elf.

Victor stared at the ice sculpture, motionless. A quiet atmosphere brewed in the deeply chilled ice cellar.

Charlotte’s heart was breaking. She wanted to step forward and comfort the silent Victor, but she felt unworthy. Just as she hesitated, the sound of high heels clicking on the stone floor echoed from the corridor outside the cellar. The unique rhythm brought to mind a tall, stunning beauty.

Narsen hesitated for a moment before walking outside to let the visitor pass the Alchemical Soldier guards. A short while later, he led the stunningly beautiful, black-haired, blue-eyed Countess Wimbledon into the ice cellar.

She wore a somber black dress with black high heels, making her appear slender, graceful, and solemn. But the look she gave Charlotte was filled with contempt, provocation, and a fiery jealousy.

Countess Wimbledon, known for her emphasis on bloodline and status, had always been cold and proud. When had she ever paid any mind to a female knight who had not advanced through natural means? She would simply ignore female knights like Charlotte, even if one happened to be a Highness’s favored mistress.

Unless, of course, she was in love.

Charlotte picked up the hem of her skirt and curtsied to the countess, lowering her head as a sign of respect. Yet, the corners of her mouth curled into an impeccable, gentle smile that held a hint of triumph and just the right amount of mockery.

Andria shot a sidelong glance at Charlotte, then walked forward to take Victor’s arm, saying softly, “I am willing to be of service to Your Highness.”

Victor’s expression remained placid, as if he hadn’t heard a thing. He picked up the Snow Monster cloak from the Chillstone Dais, turned, and left. Narsen, Caligula, and Charlotte followed him out, leaving Countess Wimbledon alone in the ice cellar.

Andria wasn’t angry. Instead, she was secretly delighted, though also slightly chagrined. Everyone believed that Victor and Princess Auguste had mutual feelings for each other. After all, the circle of top-tier extraordinary individuals was small, and Roland didn’t have many partners to choose from. Whether for her own needs or the political needs of the Gambis Kingdom, Victor was her best choice for a partner.

With Roland’s unexpected death, His Highness Randall’s reaction was one of clear indifference, which was obviously not normal. But considering Victor had just awoken from a deep slumber, his tranquility was less strange.

After absorbing the void water element for so long, his soul was unavoidably influenced. It would take time for Victor to recover his normal emotions.

Based on her family’s heraldry records and cross-referencing them with the Sword Saint Draven’s slumber, Andria deduced that Victor would need another month to completely shake off the anomaly affecting his soul.

This was her chance.

That day, when Victor had collapsed on the grassy plains, Andria had rushed to the scene and proposed that His Highness Randall be brought to her Windbell Town to recuperate. Neither Narsen nor Caligula were High-ranked Knights, and they lacked the relevant experience, so they naturally raised no objections. Vice-Commander Clark Testier, on the other hand, knew what Andria was planning. But he was in a hurry to get back and investigate Nachtigal’s whereabouts, so not only did he not object, but he also told Lord Narsen that Countess Wimbledon possessed the legacy of a Sword Saint and could take good care of Victor.

Only after Victor was in Windbell Town could Andria make use of this rare opportunity to grow closer to him. However, she had no experience in pursuing a partner. Upon meeting, she had stiffly uttered, “I am willing to be of service to Your Highness,” but Victor had shown no reaction at all.

His Highness understood what I meant, but he hasn’t returned to normal yet… He needs me to warm his cold heart, to reawaken his humanity… I mustn’t be discouraged. I should be more forward.

Andria gently bit her red lip, a blush rising on her cheeks. She walked briskly towards her own room. The royal court ladies sent by the Baselius royal family were there; they knew how to please a High-ranked Knight affected by the elements, a skill that Andria sorely lacked.

At dusk, the fully prepared countess, carrying her high heels, walked alone to the third floor of the castle. Relying on the sharp Perception of a Gale Knight, she avoided the attendants of the House of Randell. Tiptoeing on her snow-white feet, she moved like a gentle breeze, silently arriving before the door to the master bedroom. She took a deep breath, slipped her high heels back on, pushed the door open, and slipped inside, bolting it shut behind her.

Victor was sitting on the sofa, stroking the Snow Monster cloak. His fine, long eyebrows were knitted, his handsome face etched with sorrow.

Seeing him like this, a feeling of tender affection welled up in Andria’s heart, an emotion she had never felt before, or had long forgotten.

“Victor, you must be in such pain, aren’t you?”

She glided forward, her gentle tone surprising even herself. Her pale face instantly flushed with a shy crimson. All the techniques the court ladies had taught her were completely forgotten. She stood rooted to the spot, head lowered, wringing her hands and at a loss for words.

Pain?

Victor felt no pain. He simply could not believe that the quirky, beautiful, passionate, and immensely talented Roland would die just like that.

Roland was bold, with a brash and unpredictable personality, yet she was always surprising people, possessing a wisdom and cunning that was difficult to grasp. Her judgment was so sharp that even Sylvia had praised it.

How could Roland, who loved life, laughter, and games, possibly be dead?

What the eyes see is not necessarily true. For a Gold-rank Raging Wave Knight, creating an ice sculpture was absurdly easy. Victor was more inclined to believe that Roland had faked her death to escape, to pursue the wandering life she yearned for. That was why he had rushed to the Great Plains first, to use his Tracking Intuition to sense Roland’s location.

However, the distance was too great, and his Tracking Intuition was useless. Victor only had a vague impression that Roland might be somewhere to the south. But Aerie Fortress was also to the south, and it held many traces of Roland’s presence. Such a judgment was clearly not enough to pinpoint her whereabouts.

Victor didn’t believe Roland had perished. Or perhaps, he was unwilling to accept the other possibility.

This cloak, woven from Snow Monster fur, made his blood run cold—the more he thought about it, the more terrifying it became. He clearly remembered that Roland hadn’t been wearing a cloak at the time. Even if she had one, in order to fake her death, she would have just left Victor lying naked on the grass while she watched over him from a safe distance. In truth, Victor wasn’t afraid of that level of cold. Only his High-ranked Knight partner would have so tenderly wrapped him in a Snow Monster cloak, because caring for a lover is an expression of humanity for a wife, something a high-ranking female knight could derive pleasure from.

This point was crucial, especially for Sylvia.

Victor knew well that Sylvia’s divine nature outweighed her humanity; every little experience of love was precious to her. She had the ability to arrive at the right place at the right time to control a battle, and she also had a motive for Roland’s demise.

With House of Auguste having one less Highness with the potential to advance to Legendary, it benefited the York family in every way.

Of course, another possibility was that Roland had exhausted her power beyond its limits to save him, paying for it with her life.

Victor didn’t want to dwell on this possibility; it would be too painful. He hoped that Roland had escaped the political prison of Aerie Fortress and started a new, free life under a different identity.

Regardless, Gambis had lost His Highness Roland Auguste. The kingdom’s political balance was broken. Conflicts that had been suppressed might re-emerge and intensify. As the crucial link between the royal family and the Queen’s family, His Highness Randall was bound to be thrust into the eye of the storm.

The theory that Roland was murdered by Sylvia must never surface!

So, how was Victor to explain this to King Edward and to Catherine?

Having lost a Highness, the Gambis royal family was even less likely to show weakness to the Queen’s family. If Queen Angelina York were to be expelled from the royal palace, the York family’s dignity would be shattered, and they would surely respond fiercely.

The news of Roland’s death could only be suppressed for now. Victor thought it over and over, but couldn’t come up with a good solution for the time being. Then he saw Countess Wimbledon, with her shy and flustered girlish demeanor, and his eyes suddenly lit up.

Andria was exquisitely dressed. Her lustrous black hair was styled in a noblewoman’s updo, revealing the elegant lines of her neck. Her carefully tailored pink dress masterfully yet tastefully outlined her exquisite curves, creating an alluringly reserved temptation.

Her beauty was stunning, unforgettable at first sight. But Victor had the bewitching and incomparably beautiful Sylvia; he had a strong resistance to the charms of high-ranking female knights. In his heart, Victor really didn’t want to get involved with Andria. He had always been resistant to a partner relationship dominated by a female knight.

However, Andria’s beauty wasn’t the point. Her identity was the key.

Victor trusted the political acumen of Marquess Golan and Regent Williams. They should have already taken measures to suppress Roland’s faction of Knight Partisans, but Victor still had to provide an explanation.

Redirecting internal conflicts outward is a magic bullet for quelling internal strife. Gambis’s Highness Roland had perished, and this debt could only be laid at the feet of the Radiant Knights.

The Baselius family also needed to borrow strength from the Gambis Kingdom to face the coming storm.

In other words, the Radiant Knights had already factored Gambis’s reaction into their future strategies. For Victor to draw a clear line with the Baselius family at this juncture would clearly be unwise.

He could not stand in the same camp as Baselius, nor did he want to be drawn into the Sasan Empire’s struggle for the throne, but he could stand on the side of his lover, Countess Andria Wimbledon.

As His Highness Randall gently swept her up into his arms, a dizzy Andria buried her blushing face in his shoulder. She gradually understood that the one who truly needed comfort and support was herself.

Outside, snow fell heavily, but inside the room, it was as warm as spring.

Charlotte walked to the bedroom door. Hearing the sounds from within, she couldn’t help but pout. She stomped her foot resentfully before turning to leave.

Chapter 681: The Raging Wind Sword Saint’s Proclamation

For the next ten-odd days, heavy snow sealed the mountains and made the roads impassable. Windbell Town, nestled in a mountain hollow, was almost completely cut off from the world. Although the Church’s messenger ravens and Sacred Warriors continued to deliver letters, Victor, under the pretext of recuperation, paid them no mind.

Now that the war was won, the great lords of the various kingdoms, who had worked together to resist the centaur army, saw their intimate wartime alliance come to an end. Every faction was now gearing up to fight for its share of the spoils. The throne of the Sasan Empire, in particular, hung in the balance. Whoever sat on it would have a say in matters of distributing the pioneer fiefs—new territories even more vast and fertile than the empire’s mainland.

The Baselius and Frederick royal families had no path of retreat. The other kingdoms had to be exceedingly careful if they wanted to watch from the sidelines; a single misstep could drag them into the quagmire.

On a larger scale, the struggle for the Sasan throne was another clash between secular authority and the Church’s divine authority. No one could remain unaffected, and both sides had to find a new point of balance. The highnesses of the various kingdoms had to tread carefully and could not easily declare their stance.

His Highness Randell, a Sanctuary-rank expert, had earned extraordinary military honors and immense prestige in the war. The two contending parties were still in the probing stage and had a tacit understanding not to disturb him.

The Gambis Kingdom faced great troubles of its own. Although Roland had merged the Glory and Swift Dragon Knight Orders and transferred command to Marquess Golan ahead of time, the younger generation of knights in Blinor City were the princess’s most steadfast partisans. With Roland’s demise, they were determined that the truth will be revealed, which was bound to send huge shockwaves through the political landscape of Gambis. Marquess Golan and Regent Williams needed time to restructure the Swift Dragon Knights and the Imperial Guard and contain the potential turmoil to a minimum.

Setting aside the issue of Princess Auguste’s demise for the moment, the main reinforcements from Gambis had fought a hard battle on the Sasan Empire’s eastern defensive line, thwarting a centaur counterattack and protecting the people of the Sasan’s eastern heartlands. The Sasan lords and the Church had provided generous rewards, arranging for the migration of hundreds of thousands of refugees to Gambis and guaranteeing a food supply for over three years.

Once this population was integrated, Gambis could accelerate its southern expansion strategy.

Of course, the Sasan Empire now had a more pressing need to organize its populace to develop its new territories, but they would not go so far as to hold back the hundred thousand or so remaining refugees who were meant to be relocated.

The Gold-Eyed Earl was garrisoned in Windbell Town in the west of the Sasan Empire. When spring came, he intended to personally watch the remaining refugees continue their southward migration through the Ghost Forest pioneering outpost.

Undisturbed and in the company of a beautiful woman, Victor was happy to enjoy the peace and quiet.

Andria, however, found things to do. She spent her days scheming how to outshine Charlotte and win their lover’s favor.

In terms of bloodline, status, and beauty, Andria held the upper hand. But when it came to gentle wiles, she was far inferior to Charlotte; they were simply not in the same league.

Though Charlotte had a soft disposition, that depended on the person and the situation. Andria’s desire to monopolize Victor had crossed a line she wouldn’t tolerate, and with a few clever maneuvers, she repeatedly put the proud female earl in her place. Andria tried using the spiritual power of a High-ranked Knight to oppress Charlotte, hoping to make her back down and submit. But Charlotte was, after all, an experienced female knight who had resonated with twenty-four Elemental Nodes; her body and mind were one, and her will was unyielding. Not only did Andria’s threats have no effect, but Charlotte also took the opportunity to complain to her master in a very subtle way, reclaiming the position that was rightfully hers and keeping the female earl outside the bedroom door.

Andria had never experienced such a thing. Her marriage was a fostering alliance, and their love had blossomed as naturally as water forms a channel when it flows, a relationship in which she had always been the forceful one. When it came to romance, she was used to enjoying the pleasure of being pursued. But Victor didn’t fall for her act. As a fellow extraordinary with an affinity for the wind element, a single glance from him could extinguish the Stormwind female knight’s arrogance. How could he stand by and watch her use her extraordinary power to oppress his favored mistress?

However, Andria had a powerful support group behind her: the court ladies of the Baselius royal family were devising strategies for her. The female earl changed her cold and arrogant style, becoming all smiles and intimate gestures with Charlotte, openly calling her “sister.” In private, however, she took full advantage of her home ground to create trouble for her rival in love.

For example, when Charlotte went to Windbell Town’s wine cellar to fetch a bottle of fine wine, the servant in charge would take ages to find it. By the time Charlotte returned to the castle with the wine, Andria would have already locked the door to the master bedroom.

Victor had it all figured out. Charlotte was genuinely jealous, while Andria was simply reveling in the drama of vying for affection.

But happy times are always fleeting. The troubles of the outside world finally caught up with His Highness Randell.

On this day, as Victor was building a snowman outside with the Countess of Wimbledon, whose girlish heart was bursting, Narsen approached to report, “My lord, Baroness Margaret Wellington requests an audience.”

“Just her? The Gambis Royal Family didn’t send a special envoy?” Victor asked lightly as he placed a makeshift nose on the snowman’s face.

“…No special envoy from the Royal Family.” Narsen shook his head and added, “Baroness Wellington only has two knight retainers with her. I recognize them… they are knights of the Wellington family.”

Victor nodded, then turned to the rosy-cheeked Andria and said with a smile, “My dear, please excuse me for a moment.”

Andria’s bright eyes shifted. She took Victor’s arm and said, with a hint of a coquettish plea, “Your Highness, I want to go with you… Miss Wellington fought alongside me, and I haven’t seen her in so long.”

She was expanding the scope of her romantic rivalries to include Margaret. Victor was secretly amused, but on second thought, he decided it was best to bring Andria to meet the young lady of the Wellington family. After all, he and Andria were now in a legitimate partner relationship, and Andria needed the Gambis nobles to acknowledge it.

“Please… You are the true mistress of Windbell Town,” Victor said with an inviting gesture.

Andria took Victor’s hand. Heedless of whether Narsen, walking ahead, could hear, she brought her red lips to Victor’s ear and whispered, “Your Highness is my master.”

Victor’s heart skipped a beat. Andria was growing more and more uninhibited, constantly trying to seduce him, even using their private, intimate endearments to flirt.

“…An improvement,” Victor murmured with a teasing smile.

The love-struck Countess of Wimbledon’s eyes immediately curved into crescents, and she covered her mouth to stifle a giggle.

Back in Windbell Castle, Victor and Andria changed their clothes and walked side-by-side into the guest room, where they met Margaret Wellington.

After they exchanged courtesies, Margaret looked at Andria, who was sitting beside Victor, and asked with a cool expression, “Are you two partners now?”

Her way of speaking was as cold and direct as ever, but her clear, pure eyes kept her words from causing any offense.

Andria hugged one of Victor’s arms to her chest, cleverly displaying the Mithril ring on her finger. With a laugh dripping with unmistakable provocation, she said, “You’re right, Margaret. His Highness Randell and I are now partners.”

So? Aren’t you jealous? Andria’s eyes conveyed her triumph to Margaret.

There was absolutely no romantic history between Margaret and Victor, yet Andria was deliberately treating her as a rival in love, clearly addicted to the game of vying for affection and setting up an imaginary foe for herself.

The icy Margaret actually paused to think, then said earnestly, “I do feel a trace of jealousy.”

Andria’s slender eyebrows furrowed at once, unsure how to respond.

These two high-ranking female knights are really something else… Victor resisted the urge to facepalm. He turned to Margaret and asked, “You came all this way to see me. Is there something you need?”

The ice beauty looked into Victor’s eyes and asked lightly, “Does Your Highness consent to your partner being present for what I am about to say?”

The former Countess of Wimbledon would have simply snorted and left the room. But this Andria leaned in, gave Victor a light kiss on the corner of his lips, and said with a radiant smile, “My dear, I will go prepare the evening banquet to welcome Baroness Wellington to our Windbell Castle.”

With that, she exited the room with graceful steps, turning back to give Victor a bewitching smile just before she left.

“Speak. I’m listening,” Victor said, leaning back on the sofa and gesturing for Margaret to proceed.

Margaret asked with a deadpan expression, “Where is Her Highness Princess Auguste?”

It wasn’t an interrogation—Margaret was in no position to interrogate Victor. Her question was clearly an inquiry from Aerie Fortress, a request for Victor to provide an official public statement regarding Roland.

Victor sighed inwardly. He clasped his hands behind his back and walked to the window, gazing out at the snow-covered landscape. He countered with a question of his own, “Why was it you who came to Windbell Town?”

“They all declined. They didn’t dare to come see you. Only I came,” Margaret replied from behind him.

“What about Gillian? Does she know about Roland’s demise?”

“She doesn’t know… She’s busy checking accounts with Crown Prince Frederick right now.”

The fact that Aerie Fortress had kept Gillian from being involved was in itself a reflection of their desire to control the fallout.

Victor remained silent for a moment before saying, “His Highness Golan should have a letter for me.”

Margaret stepped forward and handed him a letter.

Victor broke the seal and quickly scanned the contents. The letter only mentioned that Marquess Golan had led the commanders of the Swift Dragon Knights and the Royal Capital’s Imperial Guard on a month-long winter hunt in the Minsk Mountains, which had now concluded. It also stated that King Edward and Queen Anna were inviting the five great lords of the kingdom to a winter banquet at Aerie Fortress.

Margaret added softly, “His Highness Golan’s special envoy asked me to inform you that Regent Williams successfully broke through to the peak realm ten days ago, advancing to Gold Knight. His Highness Williams Auguste is currently stabilizing his new realm and it was not convenient for him to write to you.”

Victor wasn’t surprised. He mulled it over and said, “The hide of that Legendary Centaur… please take it back to Aerie Fortress, as a congratulatory gift from myself and Her Highness Roland to His Highness Williams Auguste.”

“Where is Her Highness Roland Auguste?” Margaret pressed, her persistence unwavering.

After a long pause, Victor’s gaze turned indifferent as he said:

“Her Highness Roland Auguste, in order to save my life, mobilized the power of the void beyond her limits and unfortunately perished on the Warton Great Plains… I, Raging Wind Sword Saint Victor W. Randell, Earl of Gambis and Protector of the Kingdom, shall henceforth take the place of Her Highness Roland Auguste in protecting the Auguste royal family and upholding the true line of their bloodline, until the Auguste family has a new Guardian.”

The Raging Wind Sword Saint’s proclamation and oath were carried by the wind to the Church in Windbell Town. The bells immediately began to toll. Dozens of Red-Eyed messenger crows flew from the belfry, and Sacred Warriors, who had long been prepared, mounted their Horned Wolves and charged out from the Church’s stables into the vast, snowy wilderness, carrying the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s proclamation and oath to the human kingdoms.

Margaret bowed and took her leave. Even with the promise of a Sanctuary-rank expert, her expression remained unchanged, as if she had anticipated this outcome before she even arrived.

Victor stood alone before the window, catching a glimpse of a deep, sorrowful pain in the reflection of his own dark gold eyes in the crystal pane.

Chapter 682: Secret Meeting

The Raging Wind Sword Saint’s self-proclamation was carried by the wind, directed toward the Church in Windbell Town. While ordinary Knights could hardly discern the words, Andria could hear Victor’s voice in the breeze. A smile she couldn’t suppress rose to her lips. She tapped her toes lightly on the ground and twirled, her skirt flaring out like a blooming flower, mirroring her mood.

“Sword Saint” represented Victor’s succession from Draven Wimbledon, equivalent to a Sun Elf of the Saint realm. The prefix “Raging Wind” referred to Victor’s core power, signifying that he had integrated his extraordinary abilities and forged a path distinct from Draven’s.

In his crowning battle where he slew the Ogre King Vol’gan, Draven never even declared his own Saint-rank title; it was the Pope of that generation who proclaimed his status as a Sanctuary-rank expert. Later, as Draven grew even more powerful, he began to codify his Transcendent combat skills, clearing the fog for nobles of elven bloodline and pointing the way forward. But he never again met a worthy opponent, so he saw no need to declare his core domain.

How old was Victor? His dark hair showed he hadn’t yet reached adulthood; he was still in his youth. That Centaur Great Khan might not have been as formidable as the Ogre King, but by slaying him, Victor had officially announced his status as a Sanctuary-rank expert. While there were certainly political factors at play, it also showcased the young Sword Saint’s confidence.

Andria loved this Victor. She loved him dearly, loved everything about him.

My partner is the Raging Wind Sword Saint… No, I can’t say it like that. I must adopt a more humble Posture to capture Victor’s heart… I am the partner of His Highness Randall, the Raging Wind Sword Saint… A sweet smile played on Andria’s lips as she raised a hand to push open the door to her sitting room.

She had a few things to consult her Court Ladies about. As for preparing the Evening Banquet, the steward of Windbell Castle had already seen to it. By comparison, guarding against Margaret Wellington was far more important.

She even admitted she was jealous of me… This is a declaration of war from a rival in love!

The battle-ready Countess of Wimbledon strode into the sitting room, but the three Court Ladies were not there. The one who met her eyes was Auroxia.

The Duchess Baselius was dressed in hunting attire, one leg crossed over the other as she sat on the sofa. Her slightly curled golden hair was draped casually over her shoulders. Her face, with its touch of youthful plumpness, was fair and flawless, and her blue eyes shimmered with a smile, making her look like a beautiful and adorable young noblewoman.

“…Your Highness?”

Andria was first surprised. She closed the door behind her, her gaze gradually growing wary as she asked hesitantly, “Your Highness, what brings you here?”

Auroxia was sharp and perceptive. In a flash, she grasped Andria’s state of mind and found it secretly amusing. In a gentle voice, she said, “The Raging Wind Sword Saint is at Windbell Castle. I am here, of course, for a… private meeting with him. What, are you surprised to see me?”

A meeting… a private one?

Andria’s mood soured instantly. Auroxia’s temperament was as gentle as water; she was both lovely and beautiful, and a legendary Highness to boot. Such a rival in love made her feel a profound sense of Despair. She instinctively touched the partner ring on her middle finger, as if to draw courage from it. Composing herself, she said, “I thought Your Highness was still stabilizing your realm…”

Auroxia’s gaze shifted from the Mithril ring to Andria’s face. She let out a soft laugh, walked over, and pulled the flustered Countess onto the sofa. “My dear, you look so unfamiliar to me right now… Does my cousin Victor truly possess such charm? Enough to make his distant aunt fall head over heels for him?”

“I am not Victor’s aunt. Our kinship dates back more than fifteen generations…” Andria made a final, feeble attempt to defend herself, muttering, “Victor’s charm is quite average… No, I mean, he rescued me in the forest outside Greyhound Village, and we… it was love at first sight.”

“Is that so? As I recall, the kinship between my cousin Victor and me goes back seventeen generations.” Auroxia rested her chin in her hand, watching Andria’s changing expressions intently. She deliberately drew out her words before her tone shifted again, and she giggled. “My dear, don’t worry. If I were to snatch Victor away, it would be Sylvia doing the snatching. Do you think I would dare to provoke her?”

Andria finally breathed a sigh of relief. She smiled shyly and said with an apologetic tone, “Your Highness, I’m so sorry. I was rude to you.”

Auroxia smiled and said, “The feeling of being in love has you so captivated that you can’t even be bothered to circulate your Aura. This is a good thing. But when you chose to become Victor’s partner, I didn’t approve at first. Tell me, if His Highness Randall invited you to the south, would you go?”

Andria was silent for a moment before she gently caressed her partner ring, her expression tender. She shook her head and sighed, “No. I would rely on my yearning for him to strengthen my connection to the world and resist the corrosion of the Elemental Sea.”

“That’s not sustainable,” Auroxia sighed softly, her voice gentle. “We have paid a price to preserve the Gale Knight bloodline, but the true victims are all of you Stormwind female knights.”

Andria’s gaze sharpened. She turned her head and asked, “What is Your Highness trying to say?”

Auroxia spoke frankly, “My dear, the Moon Elf royal bloodline is the source of the Gale Knights. Now that my cousin Victor has ascended to the Saint realm, his attraction to you is immense. In essence, it is the natural attraction of the Sun Elf bloodline to female Moon Elves. It’s clear that the Elves also rely on Sun Elves to maintain the noble bloodlines within their race. High-ranking female knights like us, however, can use a Sun Elf’s affinity for the wind element to glimpse the mysteries of the Elemental Sea of Wind.”

At this, she gave Andria a mischievous wink and teased, “I imagine you’ve already had a profound experience of this.”

Andria’s face flushed slightly, but she did not refute it.

Auroxia paused for a moment before continuing, “By staying at Victor’s side often, you have a chance to advance to Gold Knight.”

Andria was instantly on alert. Circulating her Aura, she nodded and questioned sharply, “What Your Highness says is true, but why do I get the feeling that you intend to offer me to His Highness Randall as a gift? If I were to rely on Randall’s favor to advance to the Gold rank, would I ever be able to return to the Wimbledon family in the Iron Mountain Empire?”

“No.” Auroxia met Andria’s piercing gaze and said gently, “If you were to follow His Highness Randall, I would lose a close friend, a loyal Vassal, and a powerful Stormwind female knight. The Centaur Hills, in turn, would gain a Countess of Wimbledon, perhaps even a future Duchess of the Gambis Empire. But I also know that if I cannot find you a partner with a Moon Elf bloodline in time, it will be very difficult for you to live to the age of one hundred and ten.”

Auroxia put it delicately, but in truth, Stormwind female knights rarely lived past ninety. This was due to the free and berserk nature of the wind element. High-ranked Knights with an affinity for wind found it difficult to restrain the divine part of their nature and always resonated with all thirty-six Elemental Nodes too soon. The stronger they became, the more susceptible they were to the corrosion of the Elemental Sea, and they were often assimilated by the void wind element prematurely.

Knight families had developed a set of effective methods to ensure a high-ranked knight’s humanity did not fade, allowing them to resist the Elemental Sea’s corrosion. The core component was, of course, the Creed of protection. Beyond that, love and marriage, family life, hobbies, and various forms of pleasure were all very necessary supplements.

In the realm of family life, male Gale Knights had it somewhat easier, as they could choose multiple female knights with gentle temperaments as partners. The situation for Stormwind female knights was rather dire, as the vast majority of male knights possessed an affinity for the earth element. Once they stepped into the extraordinary realm and were influenced by the void wind element, they would grow annoyed by their knight partner’s stubborn and silent traits and would constantly pick fights. This in itself wasn’t a problem—picking fights was also an expression of humanity—but as their male partners grew stronger, the conflict between them would escalate, and the male knight partner would often choose to leave.

It was just like Andria, who forbade her husband from finding other partners and even from advancing to become an Extraordinary Knight. Who could tolerate that?

However, just as female Moon Elves were more numerous, Stormwind female knights happened to be the most stable method for passing on the Gale Knight’s bloodline.

Viscount Soren of Gambis and Viscount Negus of Dodor, both Gale Knights, had no offspring with an affinity for the wind element. Only the Wimbledon earldom in the Iron Mountain Empire had consistently maintained a line of Gale Knights. Andria’s mother was a Gale Knight, and both she and her half-brother were Gale Knights. Now, her eldest and youngest daughters also possessed the bloodline with an affinity for wind.

Nobles with the Moon Elf bloodline, who had an affinity for both wind and water elements, were the most ideal partners for Stormwind female knights. Unfortunately, male nobles with this bloodline were few and far between, and their appearance was random. They were often identified just as their bloodline traits manifested and were adopted by major powers with an inducement fee to be paired with the family’s high-ranking female knights. The Gold-Eyed Earl was a classic example of this.

The Baselius family had not yet managed to find any nobles with the Moon Elf bloodline. Even if they discovered one now, they would certainly consider Andria’s youngest daughter first, then her eldest, and only then Andria herself.

Andria understood the reasoning and knew she could not take an opportunity that belonged to her family’s heir. She looked up and said, “This is what we agreed upon long ago. We will first find suitable partners for my two daughters.”

“Of course, I have never forgotten that.” Auroxia nodded and gave a mysterious smile. “My dear, there is actually another way.”

“Catherine, the former Queen of Gambis, and Victor had a daughter. Aerie Fortress is preparing to cultivate a Gold Bloodline of Gale Knights. It is impossible for them to let a Gold Bloodline flow to an outside family, so they naturally will not consider a marriage alliance with the Wimbledon family of the Iron Mountain Empire. Thus, they will face the same problem. However, Aerie Fortress has other preparations… the Chapman family.”

“The Chapman family?”

“Yes.” Auroxia nodded. “This minor family is only over three hundred years old and has only risen in the last few decades. If not for Victor, I would have paid them no mind. Gillian Chapman is a high-ranking female knight with an affinity for the earth element—a phenomenon of reversed elemental affinity that occasionally occurs among high-ranked knights. Gillian herself is of no great importance to me, but because she is Victor’s lover, I had my people investigate the Chapman family. The results stunned me. The Chapman family has spent over two hundred years stabilizing a top-tier Bronze Bloodline with reversed Elemental Attributes. That is to say, their men have an affinity for the water element, and their women have an affinity for the earth element. Although this Bronze Bloodline has limited potential and their high-ranked knights find it difficult to advance to Gold rank, the descendants of the Chapman family are excellent partners for other high-ranked knights, especially for Stormwind female knights.”

“…Stabilized,” Andria murmured, understanding Auroxia’s meaning.

Because of the Chapman family’s special bloodline, Aerie Fortress could maintain its Gold Bloodline of Stormwind female knights for the long term. The Wimbledon earldom’s Stormwind female knights could similarly propose a marriage alliance through fostering with the Chapman family.

The Wimbledon earldom’s Gale Knight bloodline was never to be lost to outsiders. An exchange of children with the Chapman family would have to be arranged by the Baselius royal family.

However, Aerie Fortress would not be pleased to see this happen. The Chapman family had only just risen and had to rely on the support of the Gambis royal family and the Queen’s family. They would not dare to defy their liege lord’s will and exchange children with the Iron Mountain Nobles.

If Andria were to become a vassal lord of the York family, her close partner relationship with His Highness Randall would most likely make it happen.

By following Victor, Andria would have the chance to advance to Gold Knight, or at the very least, reverse her fate of perishing prematurely. On the other hand, Gambis was already showing the early signs of becoming a great southern empire. With Andria’s connection, the Baselius royal family would undoubtedly gain significant leverage in the eyes of the northern lord families. From the Wimbledon earldom’s perspective, Andria joining the southern empire was clearly more beneficial to the family.

But for Andria to simply abandon her own family and throw herself under the banner of Victor and Sylvia—how could she bear it?

The Countess’s fine eyebrows furrowed. Her heart was in turmoil, torn between two difficult choices.

Auroxia placed a hand on Andria’s shoulder and said gently, “My dear, as your liege lord, I have sworn an oath to never let anyone force the hand of the Wimbledon family of the Iron Mountain Empire, and that includes myself. Today, I will tell you another secret. The Gambis Kingdom possesses a special Konjac potion that can awaken the human memories of a Gold Knight, and its effects are excellent. The reason I was able to advance to the Legendary realm was thanks to that Konjac potion, which allowed me to draw upon the power of the Elemental Sea without restraint and unleash my Transcendent combat skills to their fullest in my battle against the Legendary Centaur.”

“I am certain the Konjac potion was prepared for Sylvia, and its quantity must be extremely scarce. However, even if you are unwilling to follow His Highness Randall, unwilling to leave your family… given how my cousin Victor treats his lovers, he will not sit by and watch you perish prematurely. He will surely provide you with the Konjac potion on a long-term basis.”

With that, she stretched lazily and smiled. “If you choose a new partner, however, that will be a different matter entirely. In my cousin Victor’s eyes, you are first and foremost his woman, and only second are you Andria, the Stormwind knight of the Iron Mountain Empire.”

“Why are you only telling me this now?” Andria leaped up from the sofa, her dark, bright eyes a mixture of annoyance, shyness, and a touch of sweetness.

Auroxia crossed her long legs, leaned back against the sofa, and said with an innocent tone, “What difference does it make? You can go to Gambis to visit Victor at any time, and you can decide whether or not to pledge allegiance to the Gambis Kingdom whenever you wish. I’m telling you this only to make you see the pros and cons of the situation, not to sell you to Sylvia. Ahem, on a side note, Sylvia would be very happy to have your allegiance. She would be willing to share the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s favor with you.”

Andria’s spirits soared. She bit her lip and giggled. “I’ll ask Victor for the Konjac potion tonight. Should I get a share for you and Her Majesty too?”

Auroxia’s eyes lit up, and she replied with a grin, “Of course, the more the better… But don’t push him too hard. Secure your own share first.”

“As you wish, my dear Majesty.” Andria gathered her skirts, curtsied, her beautiful face filled with triumph.

Auroxia stood up, took her hand, and said warmly, “Let’s be thankful for the partner principles; the woman always holds the dominant position. The decision is in your hands now, not your liege lord’s. Regardless of whether you leave the Iron Mountain Empire to follow your beloved, I am sincerely grateful for everything you have done for the Iron Mountain Empire and for the house of Earl Wimbledon. In any case, you have plenty of time to make your choice.”

“Thank you, too, lovely Auroxia.” Andria gave the Duchess a light hug and said with a charming laugh, “I will go and order the preparations for the Evening Banquet now.”

A Guardian of the Baselius royal family was visiting Windbell Town, so of course the lord of the domain would have to elevate the standard of the banquet.

Just as Andria was about to go down and make the arrangements, Auroxia stopped her.

“Forget the banquet. My visit is a secret. I have brought the person His Highness Randall wishes to see. Help me invite my cousin Victor to a meeting in the secret chamber of Windbell Castle.”

“But, Miss Wellington is still at Windbell Castle,” Andria said with hesitation.

Auroxia smiled faintly, her expression calm and serene. “She’s already gone.”

Only then did it dawn on Andria that Aurorsia Baselius was now a legendary powerhouse.

Chapter 683: Intricate and Complex

In the secret chamber of Windbell Castle, more than half a year had passed since Victor had last seen Auroxia.

Her appearance and demeanor were unchanged, still possessing that blend of cuteness and beauty. Yet, the green light that once shone in her eyes had vanished, leaving them as pure and blue as a clear sky. Her own essence had become ordinary, like that of a gentle and lovely noble young lady.

Seeing Auroxia now, Victor couldn’t help but recall Sylvia. Back then, Sylvia’s every frown and smile was indistinguishable from that of a flirtatious, glamorous noblewoman. Without X-3, Victor would have struggled to perceive the perfection concealed beneath her extraordinary will.

The Auroxia of today was the same. A will that concealed perfection was a sign of restraint, and restraint was a reflection of her perfect control over her extraordinary power.

This was the external characteristic that distinguished a Legendary Knight from a Gold Knight.

Legendary was a realm, and a realm could not be simply equated with combat strength. Such an expression was too superficial. If one had to use a single word to describe the Legendary realm, “freedom” was likely the most fitting.

Just as Victor was a Sanctuary-rank expert, in theory, an ordinary knight could still chop off his head, but in reality, it was nearly impossible. He had far too many methods that surpassed a knight’s limits.

The state of freedom of a Legendary Knight could also be understood as Auroxia having grasped a higher level of authority over the origin of the world. From this point on, she could directly draw void elements from the Elemental Sea, and as long as she did not exceed her own authority, she had no need to fear assimilation by the Elemental Sea.

In a sense, Auroxia was luckier than Sylvia.

Ordinary people competed in power, status, and wealth; Knights, clergy, and Wizards competed in extraordinary power; top-tier extraordinary beings of Gold rank and above, however, were judged by their realm.

The Laws of Taelon World could be divided into two types. One was the Origin Law representing the “root,” which was the Elemental Sea. The other was the reality law representing the “trunk, branches, and leaves.” The root law was lenient, while the reality law was restrictive. Human knights oriented themselves toward the world’s root law, while Victor oriented himself toward the world’s reality law.

Any living being would face great danger when attempting to obtain authority over either type of Law. In terms of the difficulty of obtaining this authority, primordial beings like human knights undoubtedly had it much easier. This was why the number of extraordinary human knights far exceeded the number of experts at Silver rank and above among other intelligent races.

Although extraordinary life forms that followed the path of reality laws were generally more powerful than extraordinary knights, they were almost all incapable of breaking free from the constraints of their bloodline instincts, so there was no “freedom” to speak of. For instance, the Sword Saint Draven was unrivaled in his time, reigning supreme over an entire era, yet in the end, he still yielded to the bloodline instinct of the Sun Elves, leaving the human kingdoms to search for his elven kin.

When Victor broke free from the shackles of the Bloodline Law, Miller had nearly called him a blasphemer. His combat power could not be compared with that of Sword Saint Draven from three thousand years ago, but in terms of their respective realms, Draven could only bow his head to Victor.

His Highness Randell had proclaimed him the Raging Wind Sword Saint, and he was worthy of the title.

Auroxia had just advanced to the Legendary realm and was precisely at a moment of satisfaction and pride. Victor didn’t mind displaying his own realm to her, so as to secure a superior position in the conversation to follow.

Under the effect of his Soul of Water Mist talent, the dark gold of Victor’s eyes faded back to black, their divine quality returning to the mundane. Auroxia’s small mouth fell slightly open, her surprised expression particularly adorable.

Although she couldn’t comprehend the marvel behind it, she was not so naive as to think Victor’s power had waned. The only explanation was that he could freely control his Bloodline talent, making him inscrutable and thus, all the more threatening.

As expected of a Sanctuary-rank expert… Auroxia marveled inwardly. She circulated her Aura to regain her usual calm and serene composure, then curtsied and said, “Honorable Your Highness Randell, on behalf of the Baselius family, I congratulate you on your ascension to Raging Wind Sword Saint, and I rejoice in the extraordinary accomplishment you have achieved. The Baselius family will soon have a congratulatory gift delivered.”

Victor gave an elegant bow, taking Auroxia’s small hand and placing a ghost of a kiss on her delicate fingers. He smiled and said, “Cousin Auroxia, on behalf of the Gambis Kingdom, I congratulate you on your advancement to the Legendary realm. I will also prepare a gift for you.”

“Oh, a gift from the Raging Wind Sword Saint must be extraordinary. I shall look forward to it.” Auroxia tilted her head, sizing Victor up, and said with a pursed-lip smile, “No wonder Sylvia specially had Sophia warn me not to get any ideas about you. You must have started trying to overcome the flaws in your Sun Elf bloodline long ago. You should be able to remain in the human kingdoms now, in the Gambis Kingdom, right?”

Victor just smiled and changed the subject. “Is Sophia still in the Baselius duchy?”

Auroxia shook her head gently and said, “With your wisdom, you should be able to understand that unless absolutely necessary, the Church and Lord Sasan do not wish for the barbarians to leave the Arreat Plateau and participate in a war belonging to humans. Before the Centaur Great Khan counterattacked the eastern defensive line, Patriarch Flidis asked Sophia to take her barbarian followers to the Arreat Plateau for temporary refuge. The war is over, and Sophia has returned. She is staying in Bronze-Halberd City. She received a letter from the Centaur Hills there and relayed Sylvia’s meaning to me.”

Sophia stopped in Bronze-Halberd City and received a letter from Sylvia… Victor understood at once. Sylvia was preparing to deliver the rock bricks into his hands as a crucial bargaining chip for him to deal with the coming changes.

“I will go to Bronze-Halberd City to see my wife when the snow and ice melt.” Victor nodded calmly, feeling more confident. He said, “Your Highness, I had Andria send a message to the Baselius family that I wanted to see that Beast-tongue Shaman… but in this secret chamber, aside from you and me, the only living people are two Secret Art Guards.”

Auroxia puffed her cheeks, a look of helplessness on her face. She turned her head to the side and said, “I’ve brought the person you wanted to see. Go on in and take a look.”

With that, she led the way into the inner room.

Inside the secret chamber, two Secret Art Guards from the Baselius family bowed respectfully to Auroxia and Victor before standing aside with blank expressions.

Victor glanced at them, his gaze shifting to the table in the center of the room. A headless corpse lay upon it. Though the deceased was missing his head, his physical characteristics matched the details of the Beast-tongue Shaman recorded by X-3. Victor confirmed that this dead man was the very same Wizard he had encountered in the forests of Eaglenest Mountain.

The Wizard’s head had not been cut off by a blade; the radial wounds on his neck indicated that he had died from an internal cranial explosion. This reminded Victor of the Masked Brotherhood wizard that Quicksilver had captured in Stonetooth City. When Tao De and Barol were interrogating him with a hallucinogenic potion, that wizard’s head had also burst.

Of course, any Silver Knight with an affinity for the earth element could make a physically frail wizard’s head explode. However, Victor also believed that the likelihood of the Baselius family silencing the Beast-tongue Shaman was minuscule. Some time ago, while he was in Holy Helm City on the Great Plains, he had conveyed his intention to meet the Beast-tongue Shaman to the Baselius family through Andria’s channels. It had not been a mandatory demand. Auroxia could have simply ignored Victor; there was no need for her to first kill the man and then personally transport the corpse to Windbell Town to show Victor.

That would be a provocative act, a direct insult to His Highness Randell.

There was only one possibility: the matter had spun out of the Baselius family’s control.

The fact that Auroxia would bring the Beast-tongue Shaman’s corpse over, even at the risk of being misunderstood by His Highness Randell, was in itself an expression of sincerity. It was equivalent to admitting to Victor that the Baselius family had ties to a certain wizard organization, but that their cooperation was one of mutual exploitation, not a liege-vassal relationship.

Regardless, a dead man tells no tales. Victor wanted a living person, but Auroxia had brought him a corpse.

Victor’s eyes once again turned dark gold. He carefully examined the body, nodded, and said expressionlessly, “That’s enough. Let’s talk somewhere else.”

The two Highnesses moved to a lounge that Andria had prepared beforehand. The Secret Art Guards of the Baselius family followed them in. Victor couldn’t help but glance at them again before sitting down in a single armchair. “Cousin Auroxia, you can say what you need to say now.”

Auroxia, knowing she was in the wrong, glanced at Victor’s nonchalant expression, lightly bit her rosy lip, and said in a soft voice, “Cousin Victor, I hope we can speak frankly. Before you ask me for an explanation, you ought to tell me what exactly happened in the Giantwood Forest a few months ago.”

Victor raised an eyebrow, his smile cold as he retorted, “Based on a corpse of unknown origin, you’re asking me to first explain what happened in the Giantwood Forest, and then I get to listen to you spin a tale?”

Auroxia thought for a moment, then smiled. “Alright. I’ll explain first. As for whether or not I’m spinning a tale, I’ll leave it to Your Highness Randell to judge for himself.”

“Cousin Victor, have you ever heard of the Shadow Priests?”

Shadow Priests? So The Shadow Council really is a secret organization of the Radiant Church… I didn’t expect the wizards of The Shadow Council to have such deep ties to the Church, to even dare call themselves priests… Victor thought to himself, his expression not revealing the slightest hint of this, neither nodding nor shaking his head.

Auroxia hadn’t expected Victor to give anything away. She continued, “All the great families with millennia of history have guessed that the Church secretly harbors wizards. The reason is simple. The people of the Theocracy of Ayr are all descendants of the clergy. For a long time, young wizards born in Ayr have been taken away by the Church. At first, the Light’s Guard under Nachtigal carried out the task of purging Ayr’s wizards. Later, it was taken over by Trigovar’s religious inquisition.”

“No lord knows where the young wizards born in Ayr were ultimately taken, but the Light’s Guard or the Inquisition detaining them was hardly a secret operation. We, the Baselius family, believe that the Radiant Church couldn’t possibly have just simply purified the descendants of the clergy… This order was first initiated by the papal line. Don’t forget, the Inquisition was also established by the Pope. The Pope’s purpose in establishing the religious inquisition was to suppress the noble factions both inside and outside the Church, using the crime of harboring wizards as a breakthrough point.”

“We, the Baselius family, were firsthand witnesses to the Pantheon Uprising over one thousand five hundred years ago.”

Auroxia said with a solemn expression, “We have reason to believe that the mastermind behind the Pantheon wizards was the papal line itself.”

The Ironmountain Empress Verodica and Sword Saint Draven had given birth to a pair of twin boys. The two brothers, both heirs to the Ironmount Royal Family, would take turns ruling the Empire’s throne every other generation, each supported by two powerful families of the Queen. In the mid-to-late period of the Iron Mountain Empire, the succession system of the Baselius royal family was broken. With the help of the Testier family, one branch of the Baselius line held the imperial throne for a long period, while the other branch gradually moved away from the Empire’s center of power, retaining the title of Grand Duke of the Empire.

Auroxia and Wusaen were from that branch of the Baselius family that had been driven out of the imperial capital.

Victor asked with some curiosity, “Rumor has it that the Baselius Grand Duke once cooperated with the Pantheon wizards with the intention of retaking the imperial throne… Are you saying that it was the papal line of that era that secretly directed the Pantheon to help the Baselius Grand Duke?”

Auroxia nodded with a grave expression. “I cannot disclose the specific details. You can imagine, the Testier Paladin family was at its zenith at the time, having achieved glorious military feats. Both the Radiant Knights and the Temple Army revered their commands. The main branch of the Ironmount Royal Family worked closely with the Testiers on military matters, but there was still opposition within the Empire, and they gathered under the banner of my ancestor, the Grand Duke. The Baselius Grand Duke’s branch naturally became a thorn in the side of the Radiant Knights.”

“By the same token, the close relationship between the Testiers and the Ironmount Royal Family also aroused the wariness of the papal line. At the very least, the Testiers helped many children of low-bloodline Iron Mountain Nobles enter the Church, which made many commoner clergy very uncomfortable.”

Now that the topic had reached this point, many things became clear.

Victor called human wizards “those with an affinity for the Laws.” Besides wielding extraordinary power, they also had the status of scholars. Imosen the Wizard of Laketon was originally just the timid son of a vassal. Now that his livelihood was secure and he had Victor’s protection, he began to delve into his own Wizardry talent, summarizing much useful knowledge from it. For example, he helped Victor solve the mystery of the Biological Aberrations, from which Victor confirmed the relationship between soul and Bloodline, laying an important theoretical foundation for the Mind Bloodline secret art. Imosen himself had also dabbled in the field of animal taming, achieving many valuable results.

How could an ordinary scholar have as easily as Imosen bred three generations of Swiftbirds, Randall’s draft horses, Randall’s warhounds, and green-eyed eagles?

Knowledge is the manifestation of the Law of power. Whoever controls the wizards can analyze and master the power of the Laws.

The great nobles of the Iron Mountain Empire all harbored wizards. Wizards could cooperate with other wizards, and they needed to. When the Pantheon wizards colluded with the Baselius Grand Duke’s branch, they naturally developed common interests with the other great families of the Empire.

During the Pope’s reign, the only major power that probably did not harbor wizards was the Radiant Knights, because all the young wizards of the Theocracy of Ayr had been gathered up by the Pope.

Victor mused, “I remember that toward the end of the Iron Mountain Empire, a wizard caused a great plague, resulting in the tragic deaths of about eighty thousand people. Shortly after the incident, a noble priest publicly proposed a suggestion to regulate wizards. The general idea was that the Church should no longer just Purify wizards, but have them voluntarily accept the Church’s constraints instead of hiding in the shadows. This bold priest enraged His Holiness the Pope, and the Holy See promptly established the religious inquisition and executed him. The first Inquisitor-General was the legendary paladin from the Testier family, Bethel.”

“That priest who was executed by the Inquisition was actually the scion of a noble family that supported the Baselius royal branch, wasn’t he?”

“Yes!”

Auroxia nodded readily in admission and said, “The Iron Mountain Empire at that time was divided into two factions: the royal family supported by the Radiant Knights, and my ancestor, the Baselius Grand Duke. The Pope did not openly support my ancestor, but the Pantheon made contact with him during that period. The Pantheon’s legacy held great appeal for wizards, and wizards held considerable status within the great families, even if they had to remain in the shadows.”

“This was an advantage the Radiant Knights did not possess. As the Pantheon became more active, they not only gathered many Wild wizards, but also infiltrated the great families of the Empire, helping my Grand Duke ancestor to form secret alliances with many imperial lords. The Testiers and the royal branch felt the pressure. They took the opportunity of the great plague to arrange for a noble priest to propose a new wizard policy, targeting, of course, the Pantheon, and by extension, the papal line behind it.”

“That probe was not enough to prove the Pope’s relationship with the Pantheon, but it did make the Pope determined to pull the Testiers down from the throne of the Grand Commander of the Radiant Knights. The Holy See established the Inquisition and made Bethel Testier the first Inquisitor-General, and the first order he received was to execute that noble priest.”

“The Pope’s countermeasure was malicious, but the Testiers got what they wanted—the ability to strike at the Pantheon wizard organization. This may have been a scheme by the Pope, because under the Inquisition’s crackdown, the various great families gradually grew opposed to the Testiers. However, the Pope did not expect the Pantheon to slip from his control. The Archwizard Blair siblings burst onto the scene, and the Pantheon’s core layer was marginalized. To resist the Inquisition’s persecution, the Wild wizards gathered by the Pantheon proclaimed the Blair siblings as their leaders. The great families also secretly passed information to the Pantheon, causing trouble for the Inquisition.”

Auroxia gave a self-deprecating smile and said, “My ancestor thought he could use romance to control Blair and use the Pantheon for his own ends. He alienated the original core members of the Pantheon. But the Blair siblings killed Bethel and the elite of the Inquisition. Things spiraled out of control, and my ancestor had no choice but to compromise with the Pope, having Blair’s lover lead the Blair siblings and the Pantheon’s key members into a deadly trap.”

“You know what happened after that.”

“The Pope perished in the Wizard War, the papal line lost its throne, the Radiant Knights took control of the Holy See, and the Baselius Grand Duke’s branch was exiled to the west, yet they survived the turbulent years and became the only surviving bloodline of the Baselius royal family.” Victor nodded, then asked, “In this story of yours, what was the fate of the Pantheon’s original core members?”

Auroxia smiled and said, “Just as you thought, they threw themselves under the banner of the Radiant Knights. They are the predecessors of the Shadow Priests.”

She stretched out her long, shapely legs, resting her elegant boots on the coffee table and adjusting into a more comfortable posture. After a pause, she said with emotion, “What I’ve told you is recorded in my family’s archives, and some of it is speculation. But I am certain of one thing: wizards who grasp extraordinary power will breed ambition. They are not easy to control, especially for the Church. Because we can give wizards noble status and a bloodline, but the Church cannot.”

A glint shone in Victor’s eyes as he asked, “So, the Shadow Priests approached the Baselius family. What is it that they want?”

“To break free from Trigovar’s control, to walk in the sunlight, and to become Shadow Priests recognized by the Church.” Auroxia’s smile was laced with sarcasm as she said, “A very naive ideal. The human kingdoms may be vast, but there is no room for another extraordinary political force. Besides, no one wishes for a repeat of the Pantheon Uprising.”

Victor thought for a moment, then looked up and said, “Such an unrealistic ideal precisely illustrates that the Shadow Priests are tightly sealed off by Trigovar, isolated from the world. So how did they contact the Baselius family? Since they could secretly contact your family, it means they have a channel of communication with the outside world. Why, then, are the Shadow Priests so naive as to believe a great noble family would be willing to support them? That’s quite a contradiction, isn’t it?”

Auroxia sat up straight, her eyes shining brightly as she said, “It’s the Wild wizards… Trigovar is obviously using some of the Shadow Priests’ abilities to gather Wild wizards from the various kingdoms. There are signs that there’s an outer shell beyond the Shadow Priests, who call themselves The Shadow Council. The Wild wizards controlled by The Shadow Council come from the lower classes, are completely clueless about noble politics, and dream of attaching themselves to some great family to become nobles themselves.”

“That Beast-tongue Shaman was a Wild wizard from The Shadow Council. He has already told us everything he could about it.”

Victor asked, feigning ignorance, “Was there something he couldn’t say?”

Bang! Auroxia made a small fist, then opened her fingers, mimicking an exploding head. She smiled and said, “If the Shadow Priests dared to send him, they weren’t afraid of him leaking any real secrets.”

Victor flicked his finger and said flatly, “You couldn’t have forced him to his death, yet he still died.”

Auroxia sighed and said, “He wasn’t the only one who died. All the Wild wizards sent by the Shadow Priests are dead. It happened ten days ago… after Howard Testier advanced to the Legendary realm.”

“Grand Commander Testier advanced to the Legendary realm?” Victor asked in surprise.

“It hasn’t been formally announced yet. But the news is solid. Besides Howard advancing to the Legendary realm, the Radiant Knights have also gained three new Highnesses.” Auroxia nodded, then shook her head. “The current strength of the Radiant Knights is truly staggering.”

Victor was also speechless. This victory had made the Radiant Knights the biggest winners.

As a great lord herself, Auroxia understood Victor’s feelings at that moment. She smiled and said, “We are all beneficiaries of this war. But the Shadow Priests have lost thoroughly. The irony is, no sooner did Testier advance to the Legendary realm than he impatiently had Trigovar silence the Wild wizards of The Shadow Council. This makes me all the more convinced that this bizarre beastmen war was secretly instigated by the Shadow Priests. They led the Centaurs to a dead end. They are the greatest contributors to defeating the Centaurs and seizing new territory.”

Victor frowned and said, “I suspected from the beginning that the Radiant Knights had engineered this beastmen war… But according to you, the Radiant Knights were not aware of the operation planned by the Shadow Priests; they just went with the flow. However, if Trigovar can have the Shadow Priests silence the peripheral Wild wizards, it means the Shadow Priests are still under the Inquisition’s control. Isn’t that a contradiction?”

“You suspect me of lying…”

Auroxia pouted her lips aggrievedly and explained earnestly, “Look, the operation planned by the Shadow Priests aligns with the interests of the Radiant Knights. If it wasn’t pre-arranged, then the only other explanation is that they share the same way of doing things—the way of the clergy—to eliminate beastmen monsters and protect the safety of the human kingdoms. The clerical education in the Kingdom of Ayr could make the Shadow Priests think and act this way. With the greater premise of redeeming the faithful, why can’t the Shadow Priests try to clear their own name?”

“Furthermore, any organization is bound to have dissenting voices within it. There are those among the Shadow Priests who wish to walk in the sunlight, but many more are blindly obedient to the Inquisition.”

“If Your Highness still harbors doubts about the Baselius family, I can show you my greatest sincerity.”

Auroxia stood up, clapped her hands, and instructed the two Secret Art Guards, “You two, demonstrate your extraordinary abilities for His Highness Randell.”

Chapter 684: Clearing Up the Misunderstanding

A Secret Art Guard stepped forward at the summons. He removed his leather armor and shirt, revealing bronze skin and lean, powerful muscles. A speck of red light glowed in the depths of his light brown eyes, rapidly expanding until it filled them. Blue veins bulged all over his body, and his swelling muscles were wreathed in a tangible sense of power. His bronze skin gradually turned red, and his entire aura became exceedingly fierce.

Victor shot up from the sofa. He had heard descriptions of the Masked Brotherhood’s Bloodguards and Shadow Warriors from his Quicksilver spies and Alchemical militia. This was the first time he had ever seen a Bloodguard in the flesh—and a living one at that.

The other highnesses present were at most surprised or curious, but Victor could use his Insight talent to peer into the Bloodguard’s bloodline variation and deduce the Forging Method for the Bloodlust talent.

Such an opportunity was invaluable.

Victor strode forward, discreetly bringing the Baselius family’s Bloodguard into his Blind Sense range, which had reached 4.3 meters. His face bore a perfectly feigned look of astonishment as his eyes gleamed, and he clicked his tongue in wonder.

His Highness Randall’s performance did not arouse Auroxia’s suspicion. She was secretly pleased with herself and explained, “The Shadow Priest organization has many outstanding academic achievements, among which is the Bloodboil Potion. Of course, the Shadow Priests who invented it concealed it from the Inquisition and gave the potion formula to the great lords of the Kingdom of Borea. They, in turn, spread the Bloodboil Potion to the various kingdoms through the Boreans.”

“I’m afraid even the Borean lords couldn’t have imagined that the Bloodboil Potion was just the beginning of the Shadow Priests’ escape from the Inquisition’s enslavement.”

Auroxia paused, then continued, “We also found the Bloodboil Potion to be very useful and were preparing to negotiate with Borui to purchase the formula when the Shadow Priests found us. Not only did they provide the formula for the Bloodboil Potion, but they also presented us with Bloodguards who possess the Bloodlust talent.”

“It turns out that the Bloodboil Potion is merely a simplified version of the Bloodboil magical potion. A warrior with a superior physique who consumes the Bloodlust Potion and undergoes some special procedures can master the Bloodlust ability and become extraordinary—a Bloodguard.”

“A magical potion?”

Victor divided his attention, on one hand observing the patterns of the Bloodguard’s inner potential, and on the other, eagerly asking, “Is the Baselius family certain that the Shadow Priests have recreated the magical potions from the Era of the Chosen?”

“Yes,” Auroxia nodded. “Is the proof not right before your eyes?”

With that, she raised a hand to signal the Bloodguard to stop maintaining his Bloodlust state. The Bloodguard took several deep breaths, and the blood-red light in his eyes quickly dimmed. His skin and muscles gradually returned to normal. He picked up his clothes from the floor and silently retreated to the side.

Victor returned to the sofa. After a moment of contemplation, he said, “The Shadow Priests orchestrated this war to make more lords realize the importance of the Bloodboil Potion. Then, at the opportune moment, they introduced the Bloodguards to win the support of worldly powers and move from behind the scenes into the open. And they chose the Baselius family as their partner?”

Auroxia gave him a deep look and nodded. “Now I believe something went awry in the Giantwood Forest… The Shadow Priests also chose the Gambis Kingdom as a partner. They proposed a condition: they would trade the infusion method for the Bloodboil magical potion for a channel through which they could meet with His Highness Randall.”

“It would have been impossible for us to formally arrange a meeting between you and the Shadow Priests within the Baselius family’s domain. That would be tantamount to choosing to support the Shadow Priests against the religious inquisition. We didn’t know Gambis’s stance on the matter, and if we got too deeply involved, we would be giving you leverage over us.”

“But we couldn’t bear to give up the Bloodboil magical potion and the method for training Bloodguards. So we took a compromise: we reported His Highness Randall’s whereabouts to the Shadow Council and let them talk to you themselves.”

“In truth, the Shadow Priests could have found you on their own. They just needed a statement of support from the Baselius family. With the Baselius family setting a precedent, His Highness Randall would surely be more receptive to their proposal for cooperation.”

“Baselius was only willing to provide vague information, which of course did not satisfy the Shadow Priests. They deliberately set up many obstacles for us regarding our cooperation on the Bloodguards.”

At this, Auroxia let out a faint sigh, her tone filled with regret. The Baselius family had a preliminary grasp of the method for training Bloodguards, but the more advanced Shadow Warrior project had been completely aborted. For one, Shadow Warriors required Sacred Warrior Crystals; for another, those self-reliant Shadow Priests had most likely been purged by the Inquisition. In the future, even if there were Shadow Warriors, they would be the Radiant Knights’ Shadow Warriors.

She composed herself and smiled radiantly. “Cousin Victor, I’ve said all I should. The Baselius family has shown its sincerity. So, about the Giantwood Forest…”

Victor waved his hand, a playful smile on his face. “Even if the Shadow Priests had a way to find me, it’s still a fact that you leaked my whereabouts. Are you sure you want to know what happened in the Giantwood Forest?”

“Alright!” Auroxia nodded crisply. She rose gracefully and gave a solemn bow. “Your Highness, can we consider this matter settled?”

During this meeting, Auroxia had revealed many secrets, all to convey two main points. First, the Shadow Priests were all devout believers of the Theocracy of Ayr. They saw themselves as clergy and would not violate the rules of the Radiant Code by plotting to harm a Legendary Guardian of humanity. As for whether this was truly the case, the Baselius family had only acted on their own judgment in revealing Victor’s location to the Shadow Priests, but they had no intention of harming him. Second, the Baselius family’s dealings with the Shadow Priests were purely for profit, and they had no intention of helping the Shadow Priests fight the Inquisition, let alone establishing a liege-vassal relationship.

In short, whatever Victor had encountered in the Giantwood Forest had nothing to do with the Baselius family.

The reasons Auroxia gave were quite strained, even shameless. But if this matter wasn’t put to rest, there would be no point in discussing any further cooperation.

Most importantly, the Baselius family was now raising the banner of resistance against the Church’s divine authority. As a great secular lord, was it really appropriate for Victor to cause trouble for them at a time like this?

Victor thought for a moment, then frowned and shook his head. “I cannot verify these secrets you’ve told me for the time being. As for the sincerity the Baselius family has shown… how do I know this so-called ‘Bloodguard’ isn’t just one of the Baselius family’s Wizards?”

Auroxia followed Victor’s gaze to the other Secret Art Guard and gave him a slight nod.

That Secret Art Guard stepped forward, removed his armor and clothes, and demonstrated his Bloodlust ability. Victor took the opportunity to stand up and circle the man, examining him with curiosity.

This time, his Insight was more detailed and profound. Victor’s dark gold eyes glowed brilliantly as surging currents of air swirled around the Bloodguard.

Noticing the abnormality, Auroxia’s slender brows furrowed. She barked coldly, “Enough! Stand down…”

The Bloodguard forcibly broke out of his newly adjusted Bloodlust state. His legs went soft, and he moved weakly to the back.

I’ve been found out. She is a Legendary Knight, after all… Victor returned to his seat as if nothing had happened. Auroxia was watching him with a faint, knowing smile.

Under normal conditions, Insight could only observe the workings of the Bloodguard’s inner potential and external forces. Only in his Void Walk state could Victor perceive a target’s elemental operations, but that was useless for studying the Bloodlust talent. Relying solely on the coordinated operation of inner potential and external force was insufficient for Victor to directly fathom the mysteries of the Bloodlust talent; he still needed to perform Deductions using the theories of the Mind Bloodline secret art.

Victor had spent a great deal of time with the Master Tofwen, referencing the Active Adaptation talent of the Alchemical Soldiers, just to create the Root Talent for the Mind Warriors. The gap between a passive and an active talent was the watershed that marked a Mind Warrior’s transition from low-rank to mid-rank. Only by taking this step could one be called an extraordinary being.

It was very difficult, but not without precedent. Tournans could simulate bloodline talents like Bloodlust, berserk, and Frenzy; The Throat-slitter, whom Victor had killed, had developed his Vibrating Combat Technique on his own, which could be considered a semi-finished active talent; the Berserk Guards trained by Tofwen possessed the ability to go berserk on their own, but their intelligence was only marginally higher than a Bugbear’s.

The Bloodguards’ Bloodlust talent could be said to be the most classic case.

Unfortunately, Auroxia had not given Victor more time for observation. He had only grasped a general direction for the Bloodlust talent.

Still, some gain was better than none. Victor could increase the number of test subjects, collect more data, and design a Forging Method for the Bloodlust talent.

There would, of course, be sacrifices in doing so, but the key was that the active Bloodlust talent might be related to the Source Power that Victor had envisioned. This left no room for moral scruples. Besides, both of Victor’s own lives had been experiments. At worst, he could start by selecting a batch of death row inmates to participate in the trials.

Auroxia had no idea what thoughts were turning in Victor’s mind. She smiled confidently and said, “The Shadow Priests did something earth-shattering behind the Inquisition’s back, single-handedly destroying the Centaur Khanate. Testier only suspected that Trigovar might be trying to replace the First Paladin family. The first thing Howard did after his promotion to Legendary was to settle scores with Trigovar. I believe the Inquisition was acting on Testier’s orders to purge the rebels among the Shadow Priests and the Wild wizards of the Shadow Council. Trigovar used this to show his loyalty to Testier.”

“The Shadow Priests who contacted our Baselius family are probably all finished, but we got what we wanted. Those Shadow Priests might have wanted to trade the method of training Bloodguards for Gambis’s support, but that’s impossible now.”

Victor calmly inquired, “What does the Baselius family want to gain from me?”

“Cooperation.” Auroxia’s voice rose slightly, neither rushed nor slow. “It’s impossible for you to obtain the Bloodlust Potion and the method for training Bloodguards from the Radiant Knights. I am willing to provide Gambis with these technologies… but Aerie Fortress must exchange the training method for its Secret Art Guards. Furthermore, our two sides will cooperate on the Bloodlust Potion and Bloodguards, sharing the results of our research.”

Auroxia had her eye on the Alchemical militia, mistaking them for Secret Art Guards trained by Aerie Fortress. Although Tofwen acted with discretion, the fame of Aerie Fortress’s Potion-making had spread throughout the kingdoms. All the great families knew that Aerie Fortress secretly kept Wizards, which was why their Secret Art Guards and Potion-making were so outstanding.

Victor gave a standard reply, “Regarding cooperation, we can communicate again once I return to Gambis.”

“As it should be.” Auroxia nodded in satisfaction and asked, “Then… is the misunderstanding in the Giantwood Forest considered settled?”

Victor smiled. “It never had anything to do with the Baselius family in the first place.”

“…That’s good.” Auroxia clapped her hands, her smile like a blooming flower. “Regarding the throne of the Sasan Empire, we don’t expect Cousin Victor and Sylvia to publicly support the Baselius family, but I hope Gambis will remain neutral.”

The neutrality of the Raging Wind Sword Saint and the Spirit Knight was the greatest support for the Baselius family. No one believed these two highnesses would side with the Church’s divine authority. And the Baselius family clearly had no intention of coming to blows with the Church; if Victor and Sylvia truly voiced their support, it would be difficult for the Baselius family to back down.

Victor nodded in approval and asked seriously, “Is Baselius truly prepared for a showdown with the Radiant Knights?”

“We don’t want to… not at all.” Auroxia shook her head with a wry smile. “The Sasan Empire is currently leaderless. If the Baselius family does nothing, we will only lose the trust of our partisans.”

Victor fell silent for a moment, then suddenly asked, “I’m very curious. Why didn’t the Shadow Priests approach me directly, instead going through the Baselius family’s channels?”

Auroxia blinked, a confused look on her face as she asked in return, “What are you trying to say, Cousin Victor?”

Victor said, “You mentioned earlier that the papal line once controlled the Pantheon, and the Pantheon was the predecessor of the Shadow Priests… In that case, was Nachtigal the strong backer for the rebels among the Shadow Priests within the Church?”

Auroxia nodded. “In any case, it wouldn’t be the Radiant Knights or the Inquisition… Both Nachtigal’s Light’s Guard and the Curia are suspects. I also think Nachtigal is the most likely possibility. After all, many bishops in the Curia are loyal to the Radiant Knights.”

Victor said with an indifferent expression, “Nachtigal has a grudge against the Auguste family. If he was the mastermind behind the Shadow Priests’ rebellion against the Inquisition, the Shadow Priests wouldn’t have dared to contact me directly.”

“Nachtigal and the Shadow Priests are not necessarily in a liege-vassal relationship.”

“What do you mean?”

Auroxia chuckled lightly. “If you were Nachtigal, would you let the Shadow Priests step into the limelight?”

“Of course not,” Victor replied without hesitation. The leader of any power would not want to see a new political force rise.

Auroxia continued, “If Nachtigal was the mastermind behind the Shadow Priests, they gained nothing from this war. Nachtigal himself even gave up on hunting down the lone Centaur Great Khan. None of this is reasonable, is it?”

Victor was silent for a moment, then nodded in agreement with Auroxia’s judgment. All signs indicated that Nachtigal did not have a deep relationship with the Shadow Priests. Assuming Nachtigal suspected the Shadow Priests had set up a scheme, using the glory of slaying the Centaur Great Khan as bait to lure him to Victor and Roland’s side, then his decision to forsake Divine Favor and prestige and choose to retreat could be explained.

In the end, it all came down to a lack of trust.

Victor rested his forehead on his fist. After a long hesitation, he finally asked, “It is said that a Legendary Knight can sense the perishing of a Gold rank Knight of the same element through the Elemental Sea… Your Highness, you are a Legendary-rank Raging Wave Knight… Roland, has she… has she truly perished?”

Auroxia looked at Victor, her gaze profound. After a long moment of silence, she stood up and walked toward the door, saying without turning back, “Your question is too rash. If you must ask, you should ask Sylvia.”

As he watched the Legendary-rank Raging Wave Knight and her Secret Art Guards leave the room, Victor could not help but sigh.

Sylvia must have gone to the Great Plains and displayed power that surpassed the Saint realm, disturbing the water element sea, obscuring the moonlight, and causing the freezing rain to fall ahead of schedule.

Compared to a Gold-rank Raging Wave Knightess, the water element sea’s response to Sylvia was so strong that Auroxia was unable to perceive whether Roland had perished.

Chapter 685: The Beginning of a New Plan

Auroxia came and went in silence. On the eve of the struggle for the throne, she had eliminated the misunderstanding with His Highness Randall, the great lord of the south. She had achieved her goal for this trip.

Victor, too, had gotten what he wanted.

The Baselius family, in order to express their “sincerity” to the Shadow Priests, had leaked Victor’s whereabouts, nearly getting him killed. Did Victor forgive the Baselius family just because Auroxia came and told a secret story?

Such matters were not child’s play. There was no talk of being offended or not, of forgiving or not forgiving. But Victor was indeed satisfied with Auroxia’s story.

People at different levels see things differently.

The poor want money. The wealthy want fame. The famous want power. So what do those with money, fame, and power want?

Consider how humans describe a “god”: omnipresent, omniscient, omnipotent.

That’s right. When a man stands at the apex of the teeming masses, he seeks to be omnipresent, omniscient, and omnipotent. Otherwise, the higher he stands, the harder he will fall.

If an ancient emperor holding supreme power was kept in the dark by a treacherous minister, believing whatever that minister said, he might still think his armies were winning battles abroad even as the enemy stood at his gates. Sold out and packaged away by a traitor, he would remain completely oblivious. For such an emperor, his power is nothing but a joke.

It is the same for an Extraordinary powerhouse who has gathered great power unto himself.

If Emperor Friedrich and Grand Duke Friedrich had known earlier that the Centaur they were tracking was a Legendary-rank beastman, they would not have gotten so close, and they would not have both perished.

Gold Knights were accustomed to staying within their domains, rarely venturing out. When they did travel, they were preceded by heralds and followed by an entourage, surrounded by armored soldiers. They even had to notify the Church in advance and request that clergy accompany them. When Victor was weak, he thought Gold Knights were so destructive that they had to be restrained by the Church. Only now did he understand that Gold Knights did this primarily to avoid danger.

Sylvia had once urged Victor to always bring a retinue of death commandos when going out to battle, but he had always found his subordinates too slow. As a result, he nearly died at the hands of the Shadow Knight and the Centaur Great Khan.

Then there was Father Miller, a shabby old man who appeared neither smart nor strong. He had expended his vigor to save a dying big simpleton. Years later, when that big simpleton met the Sacred Warrior master Ron, he had the potential to become a Saint realm-level Radiant War God.

This was why Miller had the right to grapple with the likes of evil gods, while someone as strong as the Raging Wind Sword Saint, if he were completely in the dark, would be no different from a rat in a hole, liable to be snatched away by something at any moment.

Know yourself and know your enemy, and you will never be defeated.

Victor had been the target of several assassination attempts related to Wizards. He suspected an evil god was the mastermind, but he was also convinced that evil gods must exert their influence on the physical world through Wizards. Victor was powerless against evil gods from beyond, but he had the ability to deal with Wizards. He could tolerate Wizards who had earned Father Miller’s approval, like Imosen and his daughter. But that mysterious wizard organization was an object of his vigilance.

To deal with the wizard organization, he first had to understand them, in as much detail as possible.

The secret story Auroxia told had nearly caused that wizard organization to surface.

Of course, Victor would not believe everything the Baselius family revealed. He used logic to analyze the conversation, incorporating it into the intelligence he already possessed to arrive at conclusions that were largely consistent with the facts, using them to complete the jigsaw puzzle in his mind.

The Radiant Church had defeated the Chosen regime and had undoubtedly inherited the legacies of the ancient Pantheon and the Wizard Council. It was very reasonable, and there was evidence to suggest, that the papal line had secretly cultivated the young Wizards of the Theocracy of Ayr to form a second “Pantheon.”

Many of the important academic achievements of the Ivory Sanctum Monastery bore traces of Wizardry. For example, the Church’s scholar-priests had taken only a little over a century to cultivate foxtail grass into Spelt, which was suitable for planting in the southern lands. Under normal circumstances, it would have taken at least several hundred years of exploration to select, breed, and stabilize Spelt. Only Wizardry in the field of agriculture could have allowed the scholar-priests to avoid so many detours. Yet when it came to cultivating the non-toxic, high-yield, and easily-storable Spiked Kidney Bean, they could not do the same and had to proceed step-by-step.

Due to the attractive nature of the extraordinary, it would be very easy for the Pantheon’s Shadow Priests to absorb Wild wizards. Not only did they possess the legacy of the ancient Chosen, but they could also offer protection to Wild wizards. This allowed the Church’s Shadow Priests to put on an outer shell, so they wouldn’t have to do many things personally.

Whether they were Archwizards of the Pantheon or rebels within The Shadow Council, it was perfectly normal for them to resist enslavement by the Pope or the Inquisition. How could an Extraordinary powerhouse be content to be enslaved and kept in captivity?

The Highnesses of the August family were all deeply respectful towards the Master Tofwen, bestowing him with authority and providing all kinds of resources, which led to the creation of the powerful Faceless. The Baselius family must have had their own Wizard members as well and were willing to pave the way for their descendants to enter the noble class.

The clergy of the Church would never go to such lengths. Their essential approach to Wizards was to use violence combined with faith to achieve control. If the Shadow Priests or the “outer shell” they found showed any signs of dissent, they would inevitably be met with a brutal purge.

It was a kinship of sorrow. The Shadow Priests, whose tradition was passed down from tutor to disciple, witnessed the tragic fate of their companions and could not help but feel a sense of desolation and a desire to change their situation. Thus, they secretly orchestrated the beastmen war, attempting to use the power of the great lords to completely break free from the Inquisition’s control.

The rebels chose Baselius as their breakthrough point. The Baselius family was originally suppressed by the Radiant Knights, but with the outbreak of the all-out beastmen war, the Paladin families had no choice but to loosen the chains on the Baselius family. They had six Highnesses, a formidable military and political force. It was inevitable that they would build merits and gain prestige, and it was a necessity for them to acquire new lands and rebuild the Iron Mountain Empire. With the support of the powerful southern nation of Gambis, the Shadow Priests could hope to escape the Inquisition’s enslavement in twenty years at most. The condition the Shadow Priests promised was, of course, to cultivate Bloodguards for the Pioneer Lords.

Victor admitted that although the Shadow Priests were naive, their groundwork was brilliant.

The question was, how did the Shadow Priests, who were kept in captivity by the Inquisition, grasp information from the circles of the great lords? Why were their judgments of the situation so accurate that they were even completely clear on the actual state of the East Pioneer Fief defensive line?

The great Centaur army was initially in a standoff with the main force of the Radiant Knights at the Pioneer Fief defensive line. If they had recklessly charged the poorly defended eastern defensive line, they would have been pursued and annihilated by the main allied force of the Radiant Knights, but the civilians in the heartland of the Sasan Empire would have suffered catastrophic casualties.

The Shadow Priests used secret means to keep the Centaurs at the periphery, leading to their slow demise.

Fine, let’s assume Wizardry could serve as their eyes and ears, allowing them to see the various human defensive lines. But the strengths and weaknesses of the great lord families, the rules of the great noble circles, and their intricate relationships were by no means visible to the naked eye.

The chasm between the Knight-Nobles and the Commoners was insurmountable. The “outer shell” of the Shadow Priests came from the bottom of society; they understood nothing of these things. Therefore, in addition to having eyes and ears, the Shadow Priests also had a “Tutor” unknown to the Inquisition.

Regarding this, Victor had two suspects.

One was the evil gods. They were definitely involved; the Shadow Knight assassin in the Giantwood Forest was clear proof. It was just that the old man, Miller, had thwarted their attempts to assassinate Victor, perhaps more than once.

With old Miller dealing with them, Victor could temporarily set aside this factor.

The second was Nachtigal. Victor thought it over and over. Besides the Nachtigal family, he couldn’t find a second power within the Church that would dare to collude with the religious inquisition’s Shadow Priests.

Nachtigal had openly proposed that the Neo Wester family expand into the Eastern Alliance. The Eastern Alliance was the Inquisition’s den of corruption. Needless to say, the Shadow Priests’ lair was in the Eastern Alliance, and almost all the major powers knew it! Nachtigal’s move had thrown the Church into a panic. Even the Curia was restless, wanting to pry the Inquisition from the Radiant Knights’ hierarchy and bring it under their own command. Trigovar hastily used all his connections to push for the Neo Wester family’s southern expansion, terrified they would enter the Eastern Alliance.

If Nachtigal truly controlled the Eastern Alliance, wouldn’t they be a powerful ally for the Shadow Priests?

However, Victor believed Auroxia’s judgment was correct. Nachtigal was ultimately of the Paladin Faction. Their fundamental nature would not change. Their attitude towards the Shadow Priests would be no different from Trigovar’s—seeing them as tools and a source of Divine Favor to be taken at will.

From this perspective, the only way out for the Shadow Priests was to become independent, to be publicly acknowledged by the Church as another type of clergy. Only when the vast masses of believers accepted the Shadow Priests would they have truly escaped their fate of enslavement.

Trigovar and the Shadow Priests had different goals. Theirs was a relationship of mutual exploitation, and neither could fully trust the other.

But then another problem arose. From a political standpoint, this was how things stood. But if the anomaly of the evil gods was factored in, what would the full picture look like?

Victor sank into the sofa, lacing his fingers together under his chin, and fell into quiet contemplation. The glimmering light in his dark gold eyes indicated that his mind was anything but calm. The X-3 was operating at full capacity, piecing together all kinds of information, trying to find subtle clues to the truth.

First, the influence of evil gods on the physical world must conform to the world’s Laws. They could only secretly guide Wizards, not directly control them. Therefore, the development of events could not be divorced from the current situation. Assuming the evil gods’ goal was to assassinate the heir of the Alchemical Empire, then they had already made their move during the beastmen war directed by the Shadow Priests, but they just hadn’t achieved the desired effect.

The Shadow Knight in the Giantwood Forest was key. The extraordinary power he displayed was similar to a Paladin’s, making it almost certain that he was a God-favored of an evil god.

Who was the Shadow Knight?

Victor could only substitute Nachtigal into this role. Who else but him had the closest relationship with the rebellious Shadow Priests?

However, the possibility derived from this deduction by the X-3 was minuscule. Casten Nachtigal was not alone. If he took refuge in an evil god, he could hide it from outsiders, but could he hide it from his own family? This was the unforgivable sin of apostasy!

The method of verification was also very simple. He just had to see if King Nachtigal could still use divine arts.

Victor decided to find an opportunity to meet with Nachtigal and test whether he had truly forsaken the Holy Light.

The second clue: before the Shadow Knight escaped, he had called out the name of the Shadow Council President to Victor. This could have been a quick-witted survival tactic, or it could have been a sinister plot to divert a disaster onto others.

Regardless, Victor had to find the Shadow Council President, and he already had a rough idea of who it was.

Trigovar had now purged the Shadow Priests’ outer shell and had most likely executed the rebels among the Shadow Priests as well. The clue about the Shadow Council President could only be found with Trigovar.

Prying open the Inquisitor-General’s mouth would not be easy, especially since what the Raging Wind Sword Saint wanted was the Inquisition’s compromising information. After much thought, Victor decided to start with the struggle for the Sasan Empire’s throne. He would use the rock brick technology to create monstrous waves, pushing His Highness Howard Testier to the crest of the wave, forcing him to make Trigovar speak frankly.

Over the following days, Victor began to fully receive information from the outside world, corresponding with Sylvia by letter while perfecting his plan.

When the snow and ice melted and the earth returned to life, the wild bears in the mountains awoke from hibernation, shakily crawling out of their tree hollows to forage for food. Victor and his party were packed and ready to leave Windbell Town for Bronze-Halberd City to meet up with the Countess of Wimbledon.

The muzzled draft horses snorted, their thick hooves stamping the ground. The wheat shoots by the roadside looked fresh and delicious, but they couldn’t get a single bite. Beside the luxurious carriage, Victor held Andria’s fair, smooth hand and said sincerely, “My dear, I hope you will accompany me to Bronze-Halberd City.”

Her lover’s sincere invitation to travel together made Andria’s heart feel sweet. She was reluctant to be separated from Victor, yet she was also hesitant. Finally, she forced a smile and said, “My love, I am willing to accompany you, but… I don’t want to see the Countess of Wimbledon, and… the Wimbledons in Bronze-Halberd City are not of my line. They are supported by the Frederick family and may not welcome me.”

These days, Victor and the beautiful Countess of Wimbledon had spent their days and nights in intimate contact, developing feelings for each other. He had come to understand her somewhat.

Andria’s temperament was indeed arrogant, but as for a bad temper, it was non-existent in Victor’s presence. On the contrary, she harbored a deep-seated reverence for leaders. Her fawning on Victor was completely genuine, not at all like other high-ranking female knights who took pleasure in teasing him. Being with Andria gave Victor a different kind of satisfaction.

To say that Victor was infatuated with Andria’s tender beauty was still a long way off. But Andria was a gift to him from the Baselius family.

The Baselius family had leaked Victor’s whereabouts to the Shadow Priests for their own benefit. Such an act did not require an apology. Even if they had apologized and His Highness Randall had accepted, Victor would still not show mercy when the time came to deal with the Baselius family.

Apologies and compensation were useless for a great lord. But if the Countess of Wimbledon were to join Centaur Hills, everything would be different.

The two sides would form a de facto marriage alliance, a relationship of allies. Within Andria’s sphere of influence, many conflicts or collaborations could be resolved through negotiation. With Andria by Victor’s side, she would have the opportunity to advance further, and a Gold rank Stormwind female knight was also quite important to Centaur Hills. Sylvia had strongly requested in her letter that Victor bring Andria back.

This was all part of Auroxia’s calculations, but Sylvia couldn’t care less. She would eat the bait the Baselius family served up if she pleased. With her and Victor around, Andria couldn’t make a splash even if she advanced to Gold rank.

Therefore, Victor’s invitation for Andria to visit Bronze-Halberd City with him was sincere, and so was his intention to lure her to Centaur Hills.

However, His Highness Randall never forced his women. It was no use even if Sylvia got angry.

“Alright,” Victor nodded, kissed Andria’s red lips, and said with a carefree smile, “I’ll be staying in Bronze-Halberd City for a while. If you make up your mind, you can come and find me… I must also make one thing clear. Once I leave the Sasan Empire, I will not return. And if I do return, it will certainly not be for anything good… My dear, I can’t come to see you, but you can come to see me in Gambis. You can come anytime, and you can return anytime. I promise you this.”

Andria’s nose tingled. She wrapped her arms around Victor’s neck so he couldn’t see her eyes and said softly, “I will seriously consider Your Highness’s suggestion… Also, I will definitely come visit you… Your Highness, don’t forget me!”

“My dear, take care of yourself.”

Victor took one last deep look at Andria’s beautiful, delicate face, released her hand, and turned to board the carriage.

Chapter 686: Nightingale Manor

Bronze-Halberd City, located in the south-central region of the Sasan Empire, served as a pivotal hub for trade between the north and south. It was the domain of the Diocletian family, one of the great lords of the Sasan Empire.

The city was situated on a plain of fertile red soil, rich in green wheat. However, it lacked the natural defenses of mountains and was frequently harassed by prairie Gnolls. It had originally been just a remote town with a military garrison. But when the Sasan Empire launched its “Green Wheat War,” the armies and supplies of the northern lords gathered there. They built fortifications and, in the process, wiped out the nearby Gnoll tribes, subsequently opening up the grain markets of the southern kingdoms. The small country town was continuously expanded, its roles in transportation, trade, storage, and military affairs growing ever more prominent. Eventually, the Diocletian family moved their main family city there and renamed it Bronze-Halberd City.

Even among all the human kingdoms, Bronze-Halberd City was a first-rate metropolis. Its prosperity and population were second only to Eyer Holy City. Blinor City, the royal capital of Gambis, paled in comparison, despite the vast difference in their political standing. However, the intricate web of power relations in Bronze-Halberd City was no less complex than that of any royal capital.

Nearly every great lord in the Sasan Empire had planted their own people in Bronze-Halberd City. The Moon Bear family, from the far north, had even arranged a marriage alliance through fostering with the Diocletians. Anqi Moon Bear Diocletian, who possessed both the bloodline of Baselius and the title of a Sasan Imperial Princess, currently held the reins of power in Bronze-Halberd City.

The Diocletian family had no Gold Knight to protect them. They were keenly aware that the rise of Bronze-Halberd City was a collective achievement of the Sasan great lords. Thus, they never created obstacles for the powerful lords, adhering to a principle of neutrality and welcoming all families to trade there. This, in turn, allowed Bronze-Halberd City to flourish even more.

The trade caravans of powerful lords were restricted, a rule followed by all kingdoms. Although the Diocletians were the masters of Bronze-Halberd City, they were no exception. Therefore, a forty-square-kilometer enclave within Bronze-Halberd City was specifically designated for the Sasan Empire’s commercial nobility—Viscount Toric Wimbledon.

Since Countess Andria Wimbledon had inherited the family of Sword Saint Draven, this Viscount Toric Wimbledon found himself in an exceedingly awkward position. He possessed neither power nor the respect of the Sasan great lords. He knew he was merely a commercial noble in name, his duty being to affix labels to the caravans of the imperial family and the great lords, though even then, those caravans could not leave the Empire. Viscount Toric Wimbledon simply refrained from participating in any trade activities and rarely visited his enclave near Bronze-Halberd City, having only built a castle and a manor there, which he left in the care of an old steward.

Those who know their own limits are often very clever. The Wimbledon enclave was small, and though the land was fertile, planting green wheat was not profitable. Instead, they planted the manor with flowers for all seasons, built a dyeing workshop, and purchased cheap wool from the herdsmen of the Great Plains. They would dye the wool, weave it into pictorial tapestries, and then sell them for a profit in Bronze-Halberd City.

The wool tapestries produced by Viscount Wimbledon’s family were rich in color, exquisitely crafted, and displayed masterful artistry. The sets of tapestries were particularly astonishing, depicting vivid narrative scenes that left viewers marveling. As a result, they were highly sought after by nobles from every kingdom. Many nobles commissioned sets of tapestries based on the glorious histories of their own families. The orders they received were often for pieces that could only be delivered a year later.

The Viscount Wimbledon family had a habit of embroidering a nightingale in a corner on the back of their tapestries, which led to their creations being known as “Nightingale Tapestries” in noble circles.

The castle and manor that produced these Nightingale Tapestries was naturally called Nightingale Manor.

The beastmen war had not reached Bronze-Halberd City. With the war won, the Sasan lords earned glory and land—a truly brilliant page in their family histories. Viscount Wimbledon was so inundated with orders for his tapestries that his artisans and painters at Nightingale Manor would be busy for the next five years just to fulfill their master’s production quota.

But just as the craftsmen were toiling away, the manor’s steward received an order from the Viscount. He hastily arranged for the residents to drop their work and evacuate, handing over the immensely profitable Nightingale Manor to the Diocletian family to serve as a temporary settlement for the Gambis Kingdom’s reinforcements.

That noon, twenty knights mounted on Swift Dragon war beasts escorted a luxurious carriage into Nightingale Manor.

The black-haired, gold-eyed His Highness Randall stepped down from the carriage. Several Great Knights, who had long been waiting, stepped forward and bowed, their voices respectful.

“Good day, Your Highness Randall. Congratulations on ascending to the Saint realm and earning the title of Raging Wind Sword Saint.”

“There is no need for such formalities.”

Victor nodded to the Great Knights present, then reached out a hand to help Charlotte, dressed in a pink spider silk long dress, down from the carriage. He surveyed the surroundings, and seeing many warhorses casually grazing on the flowers and grass in the fields, he shook his head with a smile. “I have long heard that Nightingale Manor’s flowers are magnificent and its variety rich, a rare and beautiful sight. I never expected that the nightingale flower fields would be ravaged by the warhorses of Gambis.”

The bearded Viscount Eriks wrung his hands, saying with some embarrassment, “Your Highness, I’ll order the soldiers to restrain the warhorses at once…”

Victor looked at his former neighbor and laughed freely. “Old friend, don’t trouble yourself. We traveled thousands of kilometers to the Sasan Empire to fight the beastmen and won a vast territory for the Sasan lords. What does it matter if our warhorses eat a few flowers? If Viscount Toric Wimbledon has a complaint, he can take it up with the Diocletian family. Why else would they house Gambis cavalry in Nightingale Manor? Are they not worried that the warriors of Gambis might upstage the host and cause trouble drinking in Bronze-Halberd City?”

The men couldn’t help but smile. Earl Terlanden York joined in with a laugh. “Your Highness, all the stewards, craftsmen, and servants of Nightingale Manor have withdrawn. The Diocletian family only left behind one Liaison Officer, thirty servants, and over a hundred cooks. They’ve provided us with lodging, food, and wine, hoping we’ll confine our soldiers to Nightingale Manor, yet they refuse to send anyone of status to receive us. It seems they truly are wary of the Gambis reinforcements.”

“What right does a mere minor noble liaison officer have to an audience with Your Highness? I sent him to a room in the back to avoid him disturbing you,” Eriks grumbled, indignant. “The Diocletian family has been inexplicably rude to Your Highness, but the Countess intervened to smooth things over, so we had no choice but to wait here at Nightingale Manor for you.”

The Countess he spoke of was Sophia. Princess Anqi of Bronze-Halberd City was close to Sophia, and the Diocletian family was a member of The Golden Company. It was only natural for Sophia to step in on the Diocletian family’s behalf to placate the Gambis reinforcements. Out of consideration for the Gold-Eyed Earl’s wife, the kingdom’s Great Knights, though displeased, couldn’t say much.

Victor nodded and gestured with his hand. “Let’s talk inside.”

In the great hall of Nightingale Manor, a set of enormous pictorial tapestries hung on the walls, depicting the love story of a Wimbledon ancestor and a Moon Elf princess. The elf princess was beautiful and gentle, the Wimbledon knight handsome and steady. The tapestries chronicled their journey from their first meeting and falling in love to their marriage and the birth of their children.

A Moon Elf princess must have been a beautiful, extraordinary being… but gentle? I doubt that’s true. The facts are likely the exact opposite. Among the female-dominated Elves, you can count every Moon Elf female as having an arrogant and berserk temper. They aren’t Sun Elves, after all. The fire element they possess is insufficient to control the berserk wind element. The more powerful their own extraordinary talent, the more their personality is influenced by the void wind element… The Wimbledon ancestor’s life must not have been easy after marrying a Moon Elf princess. Of course, they most likely broke up after having offspring. Besides, how could the wedding of an ancient Gold Knight and a Moon Elf princess have taken place without a Chosen in attendance? This is clearly a fabricated story.

Victor’s gaze lingered on the exquisite tapestries for a moment. Even as he found fault with the narrative, he had to admit it was a rare work of art. He nodded and commanded, “The Nightingale Tapestries live up to their name. Since Viscount Toric left these tapestries depicting the Wimbledon ancestor hanging here, he must have intended them as a gift for me. When we return to Gambis, have this set brought back for me as well.”

The men exchanged glances, stunned. Only Viscount Eriks gave a thumbs up and laughed heartily. “Your Highness is wise!”

“What’s left behind is a gift for me…” Now that His Highness Randall had said so, the soldiers of the Gambis reinforcements could essentially loot Nightingale Manor at will.

In truth, the items themselves didn’t matter, but plundering the property of a Sasan lord was a way for the Great Knights of Gambis to vent the frustration of being slighted.

Hearing Viscount Eriks fawn over His Highness Randall, the others also began to laugh.

Victor sat in the main seat of the hall and gestured for the others to sit. “What is the current situation with the Gambis reinforcements?” he asked.

Terlanden spoke up before Eriks could. “Besides being unable to leave the grounds of Nightingale Manor, all is well. We have begun preparations to return home, but the Dodor Kingdom has planned three different routes for us and requires the Gambis reinforcements to withdraw in batches, with a maximum of one thousand men at a time. King Friedrich’s special envoy expressed that the Dodor lords’ grain reserves are running low, and they hope we can understand their difficulties.”

“There’s nothing to be done about it,” Victor said with a nod.

In this beastmen war, the lords of the Dodor Kingdom had given every ounce of their strength. They had contributed soldiers, labor, money, and supplies; they had even provided the provisions for the twenty-two thousand Gambis reinforcements on their journey north. The war had lasted more than two years, and the Dodor Kingdom’s productivity had fallen to its lowest point. Their three-year grain reserve was likely about to hit bottom. They truly could not afford the food for the Gambis cavalry’s return journey, so they could only supply the grain and fodder needed by the cavalry troops in batches.

Although the Sasan Empire had promised to replenish the Dodor Kingdom’s grain consumption and allocate another batch of green wheat to compensate for the military equipment and supplies Dodor had provided, it now seemed impossible.

The Radiant Knights and the Sasan lords had given five of the Great Plain’s holy cities to the Dodor Kingdom. It was generous enough that they hadn’t asked the Dodor people for money.

Lords were not kind-hearted philanthropists. Since the Sasan Empire had given half of the Warton Great Plains to the Dodor Kingdom, how could they not demand a lion’s share from the Dodor lords in return?

Victor tapped the armrest of the high-backed chair. “What’s the situation on the eastern front?”

He was referring to the border between the Westdon Khanate and the Goblin Kingdom.

Viscount Eriks replied, “Based on what we know, combined with the Church’s reports, we can be certain that the Goblin Kingdom on the eastern front exists in name only. The two-headed goblin lord has been pushed further east by rebellious beastmen tribes. If the Centaur army hadn’t tied down several beastmen tribes, he would likely be finished by now. The Centaurs aren’t having an easy time either. Their male warriors are limited in number, and many of their females have just given birth to young, attracting repeated attacks from Gnolls and Ogres. The Centaurs are too busy defending themselves to advance east, let alone threaten the human legion west of the eastern front.”

Earl Terlanden coughed and added, “The Church is currently organizing lords from the Sasan Empire and Naville to focus all their efforts on building fortifications and barracks on the eastern front. Naville is providing materials, while Sasan provides manpower and grain… Even the carriages of the Wimbledon and Southwind merchant associations have been temporarily requisitioned by the Church.”

To secure their spoils of war, Naville and Sasan had to press ahead with building defenses on the eastern front. The Sasan Empire had to dispatch manpower and grain from its heartland, transporting them over thousands of kilometers to the east. The amount of fodder consumed by men and horses along the way was incalculable. No matter how large their grain reserves were, they would be stretched thin at a time like this, unable to provide the Gambis reinforcements with grain for their return journey.

On the other hand, all the able-bodied men of the Sasan Empire had gone east to claim territory, and the Diocletian family was no exception. Bronze-Halberd City’s defenses were depleted, capable only of maintaining basic law and order. How could they dare to let tens of thousands of Gambis cavalrymen into the city for recreation? Princess Anqi’s request for Sophia to arrange for the Gambis soldiers to be quartered at Nightingale Manor was an absolutely necessary measure.

Victor didn’t seem concerned. He changed the subject, saying, “Even with the Kingdom of Naville’s proximity to the eastern front, transporting building materials must not be easy for them.”

“Your Highness is right,” Terlanden said with a nod. “It is said that architects from Naville and Sasan are on the eastern front building giant brick kilns, preparing to produce green bricks and iron bricks to fill the gap in building materials.”

Earl Terlanden York was one of the few who knew about rock bricks. Victor exchanged a knowing glance with him; they both understood.

Green bricks were suitable for building houses, but barely adequate for defensive fortifications. Iron bricks were very sturdy, but their cost was exorbitant and their production limited. In times like these, however, having any bricks was far better than having none!

Naville and Sasan were mustering their national strength to construct defenses on the eastern front, determined to protect the fruits of their victory. Domestic grain production and ore mining had to be put on hold for now. The resulting impact would ripple throughout the human kingdoms, with the most direct manifestation being a strain on the supply of grain and minerals, even causing hardship for the common people.

If Centaur Hills were to introduce rock bricks at this moment, their importance would be magnified several times over, bringing with it incomparable a say in matters.

The beastmen war was over, and the rock brick plan devised by Victor and Sylvia was poised and ready to launch!

Victor looked around at the men. “Is there anything else?” he asked coolly.

Terlanden rose and bowed. “Your Highness, if I may be so presumptuous as to ask, when do you plan to return to Centaur Hills?”

“…I’m not sure.” Victor gripped the armrest, a playful smile on his face. “I may have to stay in the Sasan Empire for a while. Although they would prefer I leave sooner, I want to see every last grain of food belonging to Gambis shipped back to the kingdom… You don’t need to worry about me. Each family should proceed with the withdrawal in batches, according to the original plan.”

The Sasan Empire was to relocate several hundred thousand refugees to Gambis and provide them with three years’ worth of grain. This was a promise made to Gambis by the Church and the Sasan Empire. The transport of the refugees was nearly complete, but there was still no word on the promised grain. This was no small matter. Without a guaranteed food supply, it would be extremely difficult for Gambis to absorb hundreds of thousands of people.

The Sassans were unlikely to go back on their word, but they would certainly try to delay the delivery of the grain. Having the Raging Wind Sword Saint remain in the Sasan Empire to personally oversee this matter was in the best interest of the Kingdom of Gambis.

The High-ranked Knights voiced their support for Victor’s decision. Earl Terlanden said as a matter of course, “Since Your Highness will be the last to leave, I will lead the cavalry of Centaur Hills to guard you.”

Upon hearing this, Earl Eriks also stood up. He walked to the center of the great hall, performed a one-knee kneel before Victor, and said earnestly, “Your Highness, please allow me to leave one hundred Swift Dragon Knights to serve as your honor guard.”

Victor stared intently at Eriks, giving a noncommittal response to his request. The atmosphere in the hall gradually grew heavy.

He had not interacted much with Eriks, but he had known him for a long time. The Eriks family was famous for its straightforwardness and had been His Highness Golan’s most steadfast followers. They held considerable prestige within the Royal Capital’s Imperial Guard, though the nobles of Blinor City often mocked the knights of the Eriks family for having more muscle than brains.

During Victor’s tenure as a Pioneer Lord in Centaur Hills, Viscount Eriks had still been a Baron. He had once invited Victor, Bruce, and Master Edwin, who were passing through his fief, to a banquet in his castle. Together, they had eliminated a band of Gnoll bandits. It was then that Victor had awakened the Moon Elf’s Wind Walk talent, setting him on the path of the extraordinary.

Eriks had offered to have the Savage Gnoll’s head mounted as a trophy for Victor. Victor remembered this event vividly even now.

Boorish, strong, straightforward, brave, a poor devil… That was the direct impression Baron Eriks had left on Victor at the time.

Today, His Highness Randall had a new understanding of Viscount Eriks.

Back then, Baron Eriks had been a senior knight. How could he have been unable to handle a mere band of gnolls simply because he had too few soldiers?

Like the little Wimbledon Baron, Eriks had been granted a Pioneer Fief in Centaur Hills, also shouldering the task of carving up the York family’s territory.

The difference between them was that the little Baron knew nothing, whereas Eriks had befriended Bruce of the York family, asking for his help to deal with the Gnoll bandits together. In terms of strength, bloodline, and title, he was superior to Bruce, but Bruce was a family knight valued by Sylvia. Eriks had used the common enemy of the Gnoll bandits as a clever means to get close to Bruce. His goal, of course, was to gain a firm foothold in Centaur Hills. Eriks had long foreseen that the Queen’s Faction’s plan to dismantle the York family’s territory would inevitably fail, and he was preparing an escape route for his own Pioneer Fief.

Beneath the boorish exterior was a meticulous mind. A man like Viscount Eriks might very well be privy to the rock brick plan.

The rock brick plan was about to commence. Sylvia was responsible for communicating with Aerie Fortress, but Victor had yet to receive any letters about how the talks were progressing. He was certain of one thing: the scheme to trade rock bricks for free minting rights required close cooperation between Aerie Fortress and Centaur Hills.

Furthermore, Eriks had performed a one-knee kneel to Victor, even though Victor was not his liege lord. However, after Princess Roland Auguste had tragically perished while rescuing His Highness Randall, the Raging Wind Sword Saint had formally declared that he would protect the Auguste family’s bloodline and the royal family’s status as the true line. This made him a semi-guardian of the Auguste family.

Victor had done this out of fear that Sylvia might one day move against the Auguste family; he wanted to block that possibility in advance.

Viscount Eriks’ public one-knee kneel was his way, on behalf of the Auguste family, of confirming and acknowledging the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s declaration.

They absolutely had to cling to His Highness Randall. The matter of Princess Roland Auguste’s death would never be brought up again.

The Auguste family’s stance gave Victor no joy; in fact, he felt a measure of resentment.

The family’s interests come first. Perhaps that was why Roland had fled Aerie Fortress… If she had not run from politics, if she had abided by its rules, Sylvia would surely not have killed her.

Victor grieved silently. He closed his eyes and said softly, “One hundred Swift Dragon Knights is too many… twenty will be enough.”

“As you wish, esteemed Your Highness Randall,” Eriks said loudly. His voice echoed through the hall, and the atmosphere suddenly relaxed.

“If there is nothing else, you are all dismissed… I am weary from my journey and need to rest for a few days.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” The Great Knights present took their leave.

Victor opened his eyes and looked at Gillian, who had remained silent all this time. He sighed and said, “Miss Chapman, please stay.”

Chapter 687: Integration and Self

With only Victor and herself left in the living room, Gillian looked at her approaching lover, her eyes welling with tears. “Roland…” she choked out. “Roland, she… did she really perish?”

Victor said nothing, stepping forward to embrace the sobbing Gillian, his own heart heavy with sorrow.

Gillian and Roland had only known each other for a little over a year, but the two had become friends who saw eye to eye. Miss Chapman was cold, sexy, greedy, petty, and imperiously arrogant, yet she was actually quite simple—so simple that she didn’t bother to hide her grief for Roland, not even from the Raging Wind Sword Saint. This was despite the fact that Roland had perished saving His Highness Randell, or at least, that was the official story.

Whether Roland had been killed by Sylvia or had perished saving him, Victor felt a deep sense of guilt. He might have felt better if any of Gambis’s Great Knights had openly blamed him, or even confronted His Highness Randell. However, after Roland perished, the Great Knights who had once supported her, though sad and regretful, acted as if nothing had happened in Victor’s presence. They never spoke a word of Roland, as if Princess Roland Auguste of the House of Auguste had never existed.

Only Gillian wept for Roland in front of Victor. She saw him only as her most intimate and trusted lover, not as a Saint realm expert of high rank and authority.

How could Victor not adore a woman like Gillian?

An Extraordinary Knight could control his emotions by circulating his Aura, but if he had to control his emotions and wear a mask even in front of his most intimate partner, the partner principles of a Knight would be meaningless.

Victor lifted Gillian’s gracefully curved chin and kissed her full, slightly cool red lips. He gently scooped her up and walked toward the master bedroom on the third floor of the manor.

They both needed the comfort of the other.

The Protector of the Kingdom was to stay at Rose Manor for several months, so the Gambis Knights dispatched retainers to tidy up the flower fields, transplanting some trees and wildflowers from outside the manor. The soldiers’ gardening skills were nothing to write home about—the transplanted flora looked wilted and pathetic—but it was still better than the grounds being covered in horse manure.

Gillian and Victor strolled through the garden, leading two Leonine unicorns. One was entirely gold and named Golden Fleece; the other was pure silver and named Silver Fleece. Both names had been chosen by Roland.

Gillian playfully teased Golden Fleece’s head, then tugged on Silver Fleece’s ears. The two ferocious aberrant war beasts were as docile as kittens in her hands, flopping onto the ground and exposing their bellies, hoping for a scratch.

We can’t beat this horrible woman anyway, they seemed to think, so we might as well enjoy her touch.

After petting the most handsome of aberrant war beasts for a while, Young Lady Gillian stood up and hooked her arm through Victor’s. “Darling,” she said, “Her Highness Roland Auguste entrusted her two beloved pets to my care. Now that she’s gone, shouldn’t I continue to fulfill my liege lord’s commission and keep Golden Fleece and Silver Fleece by my side?”

The spring daylight was brilliant outdoors, and with her beloved companion by her side, a smile had returned to Gillian’s face, which in turn lifted Victor’s spirits.

Roland had been his confidante, by no means his lover as the rumors claimed. If Nachtigal had murdered Roland, Victor would certainly have avenged her. However, Sylvia was currently the prime suspect, and between his wife and his confidante, Victor could only—and inevitably would—side with Sylvia. This was the true reason for his heavy heart.

Still, he hadn’t witnessed the entire event with his own eyes. Roland was only missing. Perhaps she had taken on a new identity and started a new life. Although the possibility was slim, with Princess Auguste’s power, it was entirely possible to fake her own death and deceive everyone.

In any case, Princess Roland Auguste was gone. The Auguste family had taken away her Mithril armor and the “Water Sprite’s Sigh,” accepting the fact that Her Highness Auguste had perished. Victor decided to put the matter behind him completely.

“Golden Fleece was a mount given to Sophia by Neo Wester, and Silver Fleece was a gift to me from King Friedrich. Just because Roland commandeered them doesn’t mean they belong to the House of Auguste,” Victor said with a smile.

Gillian’s amber eyes instantly lit up. “Then give them to me,” she said gleefully. “I’ll take care of them for you.”

“You?” Victor shot Gillian a sidelong glance and scoffed, “If I leave them in your care, I’m afraid you’ll starve them thin… These two war beasts eat at least eighty pounds of fresh beef a day. Are you sure you want to take care of them?”

“How could you say that?”

Gillian feigned anger. “Are you questioning my integrity? I would never skimp on the meat provided by House of Randell from the mouths of war beasts! You underestimate me. If you think transporting the beef is too much trouble, you can convert it into gold coins and give it to me. I’ll be responsible for procuring fresh, high-quality beef.”

A look of utter amazement spread across Victor’s face. He pointed at Gillian, then at his own nose, and finally dropped his arm in defeat.

Alright, that was very Gillian. Not surprising at all.

Seeing Victor shake his head with a wry smile, Gillian said, as if making a great concession, “At most… at most, I won’t charge you a foster care fee.”

This was the greatest concession Gillian could make. Seeing her furrowed brow, Victor’s heart skipped a beat.

Miss Chapman never acted coy. Her skin was the color of honey, and she was born with a bewitching charm. Only Victor could truly appreciate Gillian’s unique allure.

“I plan to give Golden Fleece and Silver Fleece to Edward and Anna. You should stop eyeing them,” Victor said, his gaze doting as he took Gillian’s smooth, jade-like hand.

“To the King and Queen?”

Gillian thought for a moment and decided that trying to snatch aberrant war beasts from the King and Queen might lead to trouble. She nodded magnanimously in agreement, but then added, “Then you have to compensate me… three courtship gifts. If giving gifts is difficult, you can convert them to gold coins. The minimum can’t be less than four thousand Gold Sols each. I’m very easy to talk to.”

“Four thousand Gold Sols?” Victor wore an amused expression.

“Three thousand nine hundred and ninety Gold Sols… Not a single coin less!” Gillian hastily corrected herself.

Victor couldn’t help but laugh out loud. He nodded and said, “That is indeed a little low… Only a gift worth more than five thousand Gold Sols is worthy of my Gillian.”

Gillian’s face immediately lit up with a grin. “You said it!” she said quickly. “Three gifts, each worth more than five thousand Gold Sols. No take-backs!”

What are gold coins? I’ll soon be able to mint my own, as many as I want… Victor thought smugly to himself. He gently tipped up Gillian’s chin and teased, “Why would I take it back? My darling Gillian’s performance has been very satisfactory. I promise I’ll have more surprises for you.”

Gillian blushed slightly and slapped his hand away. Squinting her phoenix eyes, she said fiercely, “Hmph, who’s afraid of you!”

“I can’t control what gifts you give Miss Chapman. As for that unicorn… darling, don’t you think you should have asked my opinion first?”

A soft, alluring voice drifted from a distance. Around the corner of the garden, a stunningly beautiful woman in splendid attire was gracefully walking toward Victor. Her features were delicate and exquisite, her skin whiter than snow, and her vibrant purple hair was styled in a noblewoman’s updo. Her amethyst-like eyes were clear and bright. With the sway of her skirt, her figure was graceful and her bearing elegant. The beauty of stillness and motion, of purity and seductiveness, of youth and maturity all blended together in her to form a unique charm.

This was the special quality of the purple-eyed noblewoman. She was Marchioness Sophia Wimbledon, hailed as the number one beauty in the Royal Capital of Gambis.

“And… whatever you give Gillian, I can’t receive any less,” Sophia said playfully, stopping ten meters from Victor. She tilted her head and wrinkled her nose slightly.

Gillian was momentarily mesmerized by Sophia’s flirtatious demeanor. Victor patted her hand and whispered a few words in her ear. Gillian nodded, shot Sophia a look, and strode away haughtily with Golden Fleece and Silver Fleece, deliberately puffing out her impressive chest as she passed her.

Victor shook his head with an amused smile and turned his gaze to his legal wife. “When did you get back?”

“Your Highness knew before I even entered the gates of Nightingale Manor, didn’t you?” Sophia pouted, her tone full of grievance. “You treat her better than you treat me, your wife.”

Victor rubbed his nose and extended his arm to Sophia. “Come on, let’s talk inside.”

Sophia gave a slight smile and obediently took Victor’s arm. They walked side by side toward the manor’s main residence.

Upon entering the master bedroom on the third floor, Victor saw Natalia, with her golden hair and pale blue eyes. He hadn’t seen her in over two years, but she was as mature and beautiful as ever, dressed in a red cinched-waist dress and red calfskin high heels. As soon as she saw Victor, she rose from the sofa, took a couple of steps forward, then stopped, somewhat ill at ease. After a moment’s hesitation, she gave a slight curtsy and said softly, “Good day, Your Highness Randell.”

Natalia was perhaps the woman who had loved the little Baron of Wimbledon the most, and those feelings had transferred to Victor. The once frail and handsome youth had transformed into the powerful Saint realm expert of today. His dark gold eyes made Natalia feel both inadequate and a turmoil of mixed emotions. For a moment, she didn’t know how to face her little husband from the past.

Victor’s dark gold eyes reverted to a pure black. He wrapped an arm around Natalia’s soft, slender waist, drawing her into his embrace. “Darling,” he teased affectionately, “you’re as charming as ever.”

The familiar action, the familiar eyes… Natalia caressed Victor’s face and murmured, “Victor, you’ve grown up.”

“Yes, I’ve grown up. I’m able to protect you and Sophia,” Victor nodded. He released Natalia and turned sideways to Sophia. “You still haven’t given Natalia the Gold Potion?”

Sophia shook her head. “The Gold Potion is such an important thing, and with Sylvia’s repeated warnings, how would I dare give it to Natalia without permission? Besides, I don’t have any Gold Potion on hand.”

“I’m guessing Natalia already knows about the Gold Potion from you,” Victor said with a smile.

Natalia smiled shyly. Sophia stepped forward, linked arms with her, and said righteously, “Of course! We’re good sisters, we even share the same husband. How could I possibly keep it from her forever?”

“You say that like I’m an outsider…” Victor grumbled, then waved his hand. “I’ll have a set of Gold Potion sent over for Natalia to take. During this time, you two will serve your husband well here at Nightingale Manor.”

Natalia pursed her vibrant red lips and asked with a focused gaze, “If I take the Gold Potion, what if someone finds out?”

“It’s fine. You don’t normally use your Aura, so not even a Gold Knight could tell how many Elemental Nodes you’ve resonated with. And even if people find out…” Victor paused, then said lightly, “Ignore anyone’s questions. Just refer them to me.”

Natalia was overjoyed. She planted a firm kiss on Victor’s lips and said with a lovely laugh, “Darling, you’re the best. I’ll go prepare your favorite Cherre tea. This batch was just brought down from the Arreat Plateau.”

She left the room, closing the door behind her. Only Victor and Sophia remained in the luxurious bedroom. Neither of them spoke, and a strange atmosphere gradually began to fill the air.

Victor tugged at the collar of his shirt, breaking the silence first. “I’ve been at Nightingale Manor for three days, and you’re only just showing up,” he said with a smile.

Sophia rolled her eyes at him. She elegantly undid her updo, letting her brilliant purple hair cascade down. “I give you and Gillian three days to spend together, and you still blame me for being late,” she said. “I rushed from Bronze-Halberd City to Nightingale Manor and ran to find you without even changing my clothes.”

With her back to Victor, she glanced over her shoulder and pouted. “Don’t just stand there. Help me with the buttons on my back.”

Victor walked over and hugged Sophia’s slender waist from behind, his lips close to her ear. “My Lady,” he whispered with a low chuckle, “are you jealous?”

Sophia was touched. Her little husband used to love holding her from behind just like this. The same action, the same tone—the image of the Raging Wind Sword Saint and Baron Wimbledon overlapped in Sophia’s mind. She turned around to face him, gazing into her husband’s deep, dark eyes. “Yes, I’m jealous,” she murmured. “But I don’t regret it. My dear Victor, you understand.”

While Marchioness Wimbledon was undoubtedly beautiful and captivating, her personality wasn’t particularly likable. She was stubborn, rebellious, and possessed a certain adorably silly quality.

Victor described Sophia as adorably silly, and this was his true feeling, originating from the little Baron of Wimbledon.

The little Baron would never have thought the Marchioness Wimbledon was a fool. Sophia was the one he truly and deeply loved, second to none. In his eyes, his wife was beautiful, gentle, passionate, sincere, intelligent, wise, strong, and confident, without a single flaw. However, the perspective on love among Extraordinary Knights stemmed from the self—to love what one loves, without being enslaved, nor enslaving the other. The little Baron was not a High-ranked Knight; he was so infatuated with Sophia that he had lost himself. Sophia had loved Victor too, but when it was time to let go, she let go. And letting go did not prevent her from continuing to like the new Victor.

The Victor of today had completely accepted the extraordinary being’s view on love, yet the little Baron’s feelings for Sophia continued to influence him, making him find Sophia utterly charming, and adorably silly.

After he stepped into the Saint realm, he finally realized with clarity that if he were to betray the emotions within the little Baron’s Will Side, something terrible would happen. It had nothing to do with political gain but was connected to fate—an aversion from the very origin of the world.

Whether you love me or not, I will love you. If you do not reciprocate, it will remain merely a feeling of affection, and I will not do a single extra thing for you. Even if one day we must love and kill each other, there will be no regrets.

There was nothing wrong with this kind of love.

Chapter 688: The Shadow King’s Knight

The next afternoon, the Gold-Eyed Earl and his Countess sat on the large balcony of their master suite in Nightingale Manor, leisurely enjoying their afternoon tea.

Sophia wore a loose, comfortable spider silk nightgown, her stunningly vibrant purple hair cascading over her shoulders. With elegant grace, she sampled a piece of pine nut cake. Beneath the redwood round table, she sat with her legs crossed, her delicate, snow-white feet resting on Victor’s lap, which she would occasionally use to playfully prod her husband as he savored the Cherre tea from the Arreat Plateau.

The passionate bliss had quickly dispelled any sense of unfamiliarity from their long separation. Sophia had rediscovered that feeling of seamless intimacy with Victor. The difference was that she now enjoyed being doted on by her husband, whereas before, she was the one who doted on her little husband.

After all, Victor was now a Sanctuary-rank expert. Before coming to see him, Sophia had even worried that the change in his realm would make Victor no longer cherish her. The Sword Saint Draven was a lesson from a past failure; after ascending to the Saint realm, he gradually grew distant from his lovers below the Gold rank.

Sophia’s worries were clearly unfounded. Victor was still Victor. It was she who had naturally placed herself in a more submissive position, finding joy in pleasing her husband and basking in his affection.

The feeling was new, and it was wonderful.

Finishing her pastry, she gently licked her crystalline red lips with the tip of her pink tongue and asked in a soft voice, “Darling, how is the new Cherre tea?”

Victor set down the exquisitely crafted silver cup and nodded. “It’s wonderful. I like it very much.”

Tucking a strand of hair behind her shoulder, Sophia raised a slender purple eyebrow and asked in a lazy yet alluring tone, “How does it compare to me?”

When she isn’t channeling her Aura, she’s a true enchantress… Perhaps the progenitor race of the purple-eyed bloodline possessed the extraordinary ability to charm the powerful… Victor mused to himself. As the Mind’s Dominator, he analyzed Sophia’s current psychological state from a professional standpoint.

“How could the taste of Cherre tea ever compare to that of my wife?” Victor praised the Countess with great “solemnity.”

“The Konjac potion keeps me from being assimilated by the Elemental Sea, but its taste is nothing compared to my little Victor,” Sophia said with a smile, her chin resting in her hand and her eyes crinkling. “So… what about Andria, and Gillian? Compared to me, whose taste do you find more unforgettable?”

“Ahem… My love, do you happen to know the origin of the purple-eyed bloodline?”

Victor coughed, wisely changing the subject, only to be met with a flirtatious eye-roll from Sophia.

“How would I know the origin of the purple-eyed bloodline? The Eastern Alliance is a land of exile for Knight-Nobles, filled with countless knight’s bloodlines. In its early days, the Eleanor family frantically collected them; their methods could be described as indiscriminate. Their acquisition of the purple-eyed bloodline was purely by chance. I doubt even the Kingdom of Sus knows where the purple-eyed bloodline originated. Besides, I’m not a direct descendant of the Eleanor royal family. I’m just a stubborn Wild Knight who got a little lucky. You’re asking the wrong person.” Sophia gave a disdainful pout, which had a charm all its own.

Victor spoke with great enthusiasm, “I suspect the purple-eyed bloodline comes from some ancient race of wisdom. Their Bloodline Law is so powerful that it impedes purple-eyed Knights from advancing to the Gold rank. You see, all the purple-eyed Knights of the Eleanor royal family are female, and none have ever become a Gold Knight. This is because a knight’s bloodline must journey to the Elemental Sea, yet the purple-eyed bloodline belongs to the laws of the physical world. So, like the purple-eyed noblewomen of the Eleanor family, you have a natural talent for charm. But you’ve already resonated with thirty-six Elemental Nodes and pushed open the gate to the Elemental Sea, reaching a half-goldenized state. Yet your eyes only turn turquoise when you channel your Aura; normally, they remain purple. This is completely different from an ordinary Raging Wave Knight and indicates that the purple-eyed bloodline is preventing you from delving deeper into the Elemental Sea…”

“Sylvia said I have a chance to advance to Gold rank… I believe Sylvia.”

Sophia raised a delicate white hand to cover a yawn, showing no interest in the topic. Under the table, however, she wiggled her jade-like feet, teasing her husband.

Victor sighed helplessly. “Alright, let’s talk about something else… You, the great commercial noble, are quite popular with the Sasan lords. Not like me; even Princess Anqi is keeping her distance. Have you heard any news lately?”

Sophia feigned surprise. “You traveled all the way from Windbell Town to Nightingale Manor and not a single lord offered to host the Raging Wind Sword Saint?”

“Not one,” Victor said with a sour look. “Every single one of them is avoiding me… Crown Prince Zieg and Princess Freya did send secret envoys to find me, but why would I bother with them?”

“My poor little Victor. To think there’d come a day when you’re the one being shunned.” Sophia was full of sympathy, but then she giggled, clearly gloating over his misfortune.

It was precisely because Victor and Andria had formally become partners that all three major lord factions in the Sasan Empire were deliberately avoiding contact with the Raging Wind Sword Saint. The Church, for its part, wished Victor would just hurry up and leave.

The western lords, led by the Baselius family, were willing to be close to the Raging Wind Sword Saint. The noble His Highness Randell could serve as a trump card against the Radiant Knights, preventing the Church from applying extreme pressure on the Baselius family. But a trump card couldn’t be played rashly, lest it escalate the conflict and leave no room for maneuver. Furthermore, His Highness Randell was a great lord of the southern kingdoms, and the struggle for the throne was an internal affair of the northern lords. Asking His Highness Randell to intervene would make the Baselius family appear weak. Thus, the best approach was to avoid any appearance of collusion. In any case, with Countess Andria Wimbledon around, everyone knew the Baselius family had a close relationship with the Raging Wind Sword Saint.

The central lords of Sasan were observing the situation. Warmly inviting His Highness Randell for a visit would carry the suspicion of siding with the Baselius family, so it was best they didn’t meet.

As for the eastern lords controlled by the Radiant Knights, that went without saying. Like the Church, they hoped the Raging Wind Sword Saint would leave sooner rather than later. The Crown Prince and the Princess had made some initial contact, but when Victor didn’t respond, they stopped wasting their time on him.

Speaking of which, the cold reception the high-ranking Knights of Gambis received in Bronze-Halberd City was all thanks to Victor. The Diocletian family wouldn’t even host the Raging Wind Sword Saint, so they certainly couldn’t invite the Silver Knights of Gambis to a banquet in Bronze-Halberd City.

After enjoying herself for a moment, Sophia’s flirtatious eyes turned clear. She said coolly, “Grain prices have risen in the Sasan Empire. I predict that by this year’s Season of Fire, the price of green wheat will have risen by thirty percent.”

Victor nodded. “They’re using grain prices to push freemen toward the pioneer fiefs in Westdon, to be organized into tenant households under Sasan lords.”

Sophia continued, “For the next three years, the export price for green wheat will remain high. The southern kingdoms can forget about stockpiling it.”

“Gambis is self-sufficient for now, so that’s not a problem,” Victor said, shaking his head with a wry smile. “Western Sasan doesn’t produce green wheat, so their grain reserves are insufficient to recruit a large number of tenant households. If the Radiant Knights and Blood Wolfhold merely drive up grain prices, Baselius will immediately be at a disadvantage. The wavering central lords will then lean toward the Friedrich Imperial Family.”

Sophia lifted her silver cup and took a sip of the verdant Cherre tea. “From what I know, the Radiant Knights have gained a total of six new Highnesses and nineteen Silver Paladins so far. Tournans’s wife, Charlottia Benedict, also successfully advanced to Gold Paladin. Patriarch Flidis himself presided over her promotion ceremony.”

Compared to ordinary knight families, Paladins had the advantages of ancient bloodlines, the Mark of Light, and Divine Favor. A single glorious victory had created several new Highnesses. Howard Testier had advanced to the Legendary-rank Stormwind Paladin. His realm was lower than Victor’s, but in terms of individual combat strength, even Victor couldn’t say for certain that he would win against the Grand Commander. This alone was enough for the Radiant Knights to offset some of the influence gained from Auroxia’s ascension to Legendary rank.

The strength of the Radiant Knights had advanced by leaps and bounds, placing them far ahead of any other power.

However, secular matters belonged to the secular world, and divine authority to the Church. No matter how powerful the Radiant Knights became, as clergy, they could not simply and crudely interfere in the Sasan Empire’s line of succession.

“Sigh, with so many new Highnesses, I’ll have to prepare a lot of congratulatory gifts,” Victor lamented, then added with an amused chuckle, “With Charlottia now a Gold Knight, Tournans is in for a hard time. He’s not a high-ranking Knight, so he doesn’t have to abide by the partner principles. Charlottia will have him completely wrapped around her finger.”

Sophia covered her mouth and giggled. “The First Sacred Warrior is famously afraid of Charlottia. Didn’t you know?”

Victor froze for a second, then burst out laughing. “I’ve really never heard that rumor.”

“Few people dare to speak of it… The fact that His Highness Tournans is afraid of his wife is a story that only circulates among the female Paladins. What do you think? The Gold-Eyed Countess has her sources, doesn’t she?” Sophia lifted her delicate chin slightly, her expression a mixture of demureness and pride.

“So, what other secret news does my beautiful Countess have for me?” Victor asked with a smile.

Sophia blinked and pondered for a moment before her brow furrowed. “I heard a very formal rumor in Bronze-Halberd City… It concerns a secret of the Sasan Imperial Family.”

“The previous Emperor of the Sasan Empire had a brief partner relationship with a priestess from the Testier family. Later, that priestess was transferred back to the Holy See, and her relationship with Emperor Friedrich ended. But she gave birth to Emperor Friedrich’s daughter in the Theocracy of Ayr, naming her Valerie Frederick.”

Victor had been listening with great interest, but when Sophia mentioned Valerie’s surname, a thought struck him. He pressed, “Valerie’s surname is Frederick? Does Blood Wolfhold acknowledge her status as a princess?”

Sophia smiled and shook her head. “Whether Blood Wolfhold acknowledges this princess or not, her surname is still Frederick.”

Victor’s eyes burned with intensity. “Interesting. Go on.”

“Valerie later had a daughter with King Nachtigal. She passed the Frederick surname to her daughter, then went to a Monastery to become a priestess, passing away twelve years later. She entrusted her daughter to the care of Grand Commander Howard Testier.”

“That child is now eighteen years old. Her name is Elizabeth Frederick, and she holds the title of Princess of the Sasan Empire… as well as the right of succession to the throne.”

Victor stopped massaging his wife’s smooth, firm calf, stood up from his chair, and paced to the edge of the balcony. He frowned in thought for a moment, then sighed with regret. “It’s over. The Baselius family has no chance now.”

The Baselius family currently lacked the conditions to restore the Iron Mountain Empire; every lord under the Gryphon Flag understood this. But with both Emperor Friedrich and the Grand Duke having perished, the lords sworn to the Baselius family had to counsel their liege lord to restore the empire. It was a declaration of loyalty, irrespective of the political situation. As their liege lord, Baselius had to give a firm response. It was a statement of the Iron Mountain Empire’s position, independent of the two Dukes’ personal thoughts.

Sometimes, political games were so foolish they were laughable.

Since things had come to this, the lords under the Gryphon Flag had to do their best, and it wasn’t as if Baselius had no chance at all.

The strength of the western Sasan lords alone was clearly insufficient to restore the Iron Mountain Empire, unless they could swallow the entire Sasan Empire and then raise the Gryphon Imperial Flag. The attitudes of the Teutonic Duchy and the central Sasan lords were crucial for both the Baselius and Friedrich families.

But the Radiant Knights had made their move. With a combination of maneuvers, the Baselius family was left with no ability to fight back.

Testier’s first move: Does Baselius have grain? No grain means no people, and without people, how can you restore an empire?

The second move: The Westdon Khanate has just been conquered. The armies of the northern lords have all suffered losses. The Radiant Knights’ strength has now greatly increased. Do you or do you not need the Church’s armed forces to maintain your borders and consolidate your gains?

The third move: Princess Elizabeth Frederick carries Nachtigal’s Gold Bloodline. She can inherit the throne of the Sasan Empire!

The Radiant Knights had struck at the heart of the matter. The lords of western and central Sasan knew what choice to make.

There was a limit to the spread of a Gold Bloodline, just as there was a limit to an empire’s territory. The Westdon Khanate and the Sasan Empire combined were vast enough to accommodate two great northern empires. If Baselius took shelter under the wing of the Radiant Knights and focused on developing for a few decades, the Iron Mountain Empire would surely be revived. Faced with Princess Elizabeth Frederick, Auroxia and Urien would put up a token struggle before compromising with the flow. The northern lords would stand united, a result that pleases everyone.

Of course, for the Radiant Knights to openly interfere with an empire’s succession was a major taboo. But there were two sides to this issue. The eastern Sasan lords were, in essence, the secular arm of the Paladin families. If the Radiant Knights took action against their own people, no one else could really say much.

On the other hand, didn’t the Sasan lords want to draw upon the Gold Bloodline from the Friedrich Imperial Family? If the Sasan lords tacitly approved of Elizabeth ascending the imperial throne, outside powers could only stare helplessly. Even if someone were to jump out and accuse the Radiant Knights, the Sasan lords would scoff at them, claiming they were spouting nonsense out of jealousy.

The key was that everyone was willing to patiently wait and see the quality of Empress Regnant Elizabeth Frederick’s bloodline. The Radiant Church had preserved ancient knight’s bloodlines for nearly ten thousand years. If the Paladins could produce one Gold Bloodline now, they could produce a second. If Nachtigal’s Gold Bloodline proved stable, even if the secular lords couldn’t elevate their own family bloodlines to the Gold rank through a marriage alliance, advancing to a Silver Bloodline family would still be an excellent outcome, allowing them to secure a large new territory in the pioneer wars.

Moreover, the Radiant Knights’ allowing the restoration of the Iron Mountain Empire signaled a shift by the Paladin families toward a neutral stance. If they did the opposite, that would be interfering in secular politics. At that point, it wouldn’t be too late for the lords to collectively boycott the Radiant Knights.

Victor shook his head and sighed. “I finally understand why Patriarch Flidis asked Nachtigal to deal with the Centaur Great Khan… It was to build up prestige for Empress Elizabeth. I was thinking of stirring up some trouble while the Radiant Knights and the Baselius family were in their wrestling match, but it seems that’s no longer possible.”

Sophia hugged Victor from behind, her soft chest pressing against his back. She chuckled softly, “Darling, none of that matters… Sylvia’s gift is already on its way, personally escorted by His Excellency, the barbarian Elder Harald… You two went and did such a big thing behind my back. I can let it slide… but how are you going to reward me?”

Victor turned and wrapped an arm around Sophia’s slender waist, teasing, “My love, what do you want?”

Sophia bit her red lip and giggled. “A child… to inherit our Golden Company.”

“Alright! Let’s try and try again. Maybe it’ll happen.”

The Shadow Council, Hall of Dreams.

A Knight, formed from what looked like condensed shadow, knelt on one knee in the center of the vast, empty hall. His voice was deep as he spoke, “Master, we have failed. The Shadow Bishop has perished at the hands of the Manticore. The Sacred Warrior Ron, who secretly supported him, has also vanished without a trace. Trigovar was ordered to purge the Shadow Priests loyal to the Shadow Bishop, as well as the Wild wizard decoys of the Shadow Council. Now, no new Shadow Bishop can enter the Hall of Dreams, and we have lost contact with the Councilors of the Shadow Council. I believe that within a few years, the Shadow Councilors you control will all fend for themselves and pledge allegiance to secular lords.”

“…The Keeper of Secrets’ lineage has entered a dark period. We can only lie dormant and wait for a new Shadow Bishop to enter the Hall of Dreams and rebuild the Shadow Council.”

A dark period… dormancy… The Council President of the Keepers of Secrets appeared before the Shadow Knight in the guise of an ordinary adult man. His expression was grave, and under the magic that sustained the Hall of Dreams, his projection was surprisingly lifelike, a testament to his terrible mood.

The Hall of Dreams had recorded several dark periods. The shortest lasted thirteen years, the longest one hundred and forty-two. During these times, the Keeper of Secrets’ lineage could only lie dormant. Apart from the Shadow Knight, they lost all contact with the Shadow Priests in the outside world. They had to wait until someone mastered the Shadow Bishop’s meditation method to the sixth level and entered the Hall of Dreams once more before they could continue to advance the legacy of the Shadow Council.

This generation’s Council President was no longer young. As a Legendary-rank spellcaster, he should be enjoying power, not hiding himself in obscurity. Like a rat in a sewer, no matter how capable it was, if it died in that sewer, it was still just a foul, unnoticed rat. In truth, upon reaching the Legendary rank, it was impossible to advance further without the favor of fate, and the favor of fate was inevitably borne upon one’s shoulders.

The Shadow Priests, Bishops, and Councilors could not endure dormancy, and the Council President was likewise unwilling to remain unknown. He and his companions had plotted for a long time, even using the unique spells of the Keeper of Secrets’ lineage to ride the aftershocks of the Great Divination, nudging future events toward a more favorable outcome.

But they had still failed. Utterly. The shell a a href=“https://www.wuxiaworld.eu/novel/lord-of-the-mysterious-realm-the-great-voyage/38.html” title=“the Shadow Bishop”>the Shadow Bishop had thrown to the Trigoval family was purged, which was inconsequential. But the Shadow Bishop was dead, and with him, the Council President’s Messenger. The true Shadow Council was now completely beyond his control. Worst of all, the Shadow Bishop’s friend, the high-ranking Sacred Warrior Ron, had vanished. There was no one left to protect the Shadow Priests. Trigovar could now dispose of the remaining Shadow Priests as he pleased, destroying all of the Shadow Bishop’s arrangements, including executing the heir he had valued.

The appearance of the next Shadow Bishop was nowhere in sight. The Council President couldn’t even be sure if the remaining Shadow Priests would diligently practice the meditation method.

And even if someone did succeed in constructing the spell model for the Hall of Dreams, so what? In less than a decade, the Shadow Council would crumble. The Council President would have to re-establish a new Shadow Council, a task that might take decades, or perhaps the chance would never come again.

The promotion of the tenant system would cause newborn young Wizards to fall easily into the hands of the lords and the Church.

The Council President shook his head, muttering to himself, “Why did we fail? Why was Nachtigal unwilling to slay the Centaur Great Khan? If he had gained the honor and prestige, and then stepped in to mediate, the Baselius family and the great lords of Gambis would surely have had a change of heart and supported the Shadow Priests coming to the forefront. Could it be that even Nachtigal can’t be relied upon?”

“Nachtigal’s response was that the Centaur Great Khan did not go north to the Teutonic Duchy, but south to the Warton Great Plains. This did not align with the original plan,” the Shadow Knight said, his head bowed.

“That was an accident! The changes in the threads of fate are unpredictable! Accidents always happen!” the Council President roared. The Hall of Dreams wavered, and the twelve statues of winged shadow angels all turned their heads at once, as if they had come to life.

Once the Keeper of Secrets had calmed his rage, the Hall of Dreams returned to normal. The Shadow Knight said respectfully, “Honored Master, I have counsel.”

“Speak!”

The Shadow Knight raised his head, his platinum-gold eyes shining brightly from his face of black mist. “Master, no matter how hard we try, it will be in vain, because we have no renown. In the eyes of the great lords and high-ranking clergy, the achievements of the nameless can be taken at will.”

Never mind the lords, even a liege’s subjects would seize the property of a refugee. As long as he had no master and hadn’t paid the entry fee at a border outpost, he could be treated as a bandit with ill intent. In reality, such people did indeed engage in illegal activities like poaching and illicit harvesting.

No master means no rights; no renown means no power. This has always been the common understanding in the human kingdoms.

“Master, it is because we lack a legitimate reputation that the Gold-Eyed Earl tried to kill me on sight, disdaining to even listen to my words. The Baselius family was only using us to acquire the secret arts for Bloodguards and Shadow Warriors; they would never have truly cooperated with us. As for Nachtigal… it’s no different.”

“No different?”

“Nachtigal is no different from His Highness Randell, from the Baselius family, or from the Paladin families! Even if the Light’s Guard were to gain a say in matters within the Church, Nachtigal would treat the Shadow Priests just as Trigovar did. Master, it will make no difference…”

“Haha, we crave a legitimate reputation, so we seek cooperation with Baselius, Nachtigal, and the Gold-Eyed Earl. But because we lack a legitimate reputation, they either want to kill us or are merely deceiving us… This problem is simply unsolvable. So that’s how it is, so that’s how it is…” The Council President laughed and laughed, shaking his head. “To think we went to all this trouble just to understand such a simple problem.”

The Shadow Knight bowed his head low, his forehead nearly touching the floor. He said in a deep voice, “Master, we have only one way out.”

“What way out?” the Council President asked, his expression desolate.

“…Awaken the King of Shadows…”

The moment the words fell, in the vast, empty hall, the twelve statues of winged shadow angels turned in unison, twelve pairs of indifferent, platinum-gold eyes staring down at the prostrate Shadow Knight.

Chapter 689: The Eighth Family

“Blasphemy!”

“Betrayal!”

With the Council President’s furious shouts, the Shadow Knight’s body instantly dissolved into a cloud of black mist. It diffused outward, rapidly dissipating as his will was driven directly from the Hall of Dreams.

At that moment, the twelve towering Shadow-Winged Angels were like living creatures, arrayed in a protective circle around the Keeper of Secrets. Their platinum-gold eyes scanned their surroundings, and wherever their gazes fell, the thin wisps of black mist faded away, leaving not a single trace behind.

After a long while, the Council President’s emotions gradually calmed. The Shadow-Winged Angels returned to their state as lifelike statues, standing quietly in their places.

A high-backed throne sketched itself into existence out of thin air. The Council President seated himself upon it and fell into silent contemplation, appearing particularly lonely and desolate against the backdrop of the vast, high-ceilinged hall.

After a moment, he sighed, raised his hand, and summoned a cloud of black mist, guiding it to reshape the form of the Shadow Knight.

When the Shadow Knight’s eyes lit up with a platinum-gold glow, the Council President on the throne looked down from on high, his voice booming as he asked, “Who… are you, exactly?”

“The Shadow Knight cannot reveal his identity to the Keeper of Secrets, nor can he ask about the Keeper’s identity. This is the rule.” The Shadow Knight remained half-kneeling on the floor, his head lowered in his usual display of reverence.

“The rule?”

“The lineage of the Shadow Knight serves the Keeper of Secrets’ lineage. The servant is the Master’s eyes and ears, his claws, his guard… these are all rules.”

“Whose rules?”

“The rules of the Hall of Dreams.”

The Council President nodded as if in understanding. He surveyed the Hall of Dreams, its details almost real, his gaze finally landing on the bookshelves that lined the walls, nearly one hundred meters high, filled with ancient, heavy tomes. He stretched out a hand and manifested an ancient book. Its pages turned of their own accord, and as he browsed, he said, “Your answer is as unoriginal as ever… The Hall of Dreams is a spell. Any Wizard who can construct the spell model with magic can enter it. But they are not the same as the Keeper of Secrets. I can summon the Shadow Knight, banish the Shadow Knight, and even refuse a particular Wizard’s visit… It’s as if I am the master of the Hall of Dreams, they are the guests, and the Shadow Knight is the servant. Is that truly the case?”

With a snap, the Keeper of Secrets closed the book, making the heavy, ancient tome vanish into thin air. He faced the Shadow Knight and asked, “How long have we known each other?”

“Master, from our first meeting until today, it has been thirty-four years, eleven months, and thirty days,” the Shadow Knight replied.

“Such a long time… I don’t even remember, nor have I ever paid attention to such an insignificant question.” The Keeper of Secrets let out a soft sigh, then changed the subject. “The first time I entered the Hall of Dreams, I was filled with curiosity. I explored its mysteries and discovered the method to summon the Shadow Knight. Then I summoned you and asked you the same questions. Your answers then were the same as they are today… that you cannot reveal your real-world identity, that you are the Keeper of Secrets’ claws and eyes and ears, that you obey the Keeper of Secrets’ commands, that you handle matters in the real world… These are the rules.”

“I did not trust you. I feared your power and envied your freedom to walk in the outside world.” The Council President stared at the Shadow Knight for a moment, then sighed softly. “But I had no time to deal with you… Do you see the books on the high walls? Those are the spell models, historical secrets, and memoirs of the Shadow Priests recorded by generations of Council Presidents. Only I can read them, and I can grant access to the priests who enter the Hall of Dreams. And then there is the recording… An important duty of the Keeper of Secrets is to record, to add new content and pass it down to the next Keeper of Secrets.”

“By the way, the method to summon the Shadow Knight was the first record I saw in the Hall of Dreams. No matter which ancient book I opened, the summoning of a Shadow Knight was always on the first page. It was only after I summoned you, after you appeared in the Hall of Dreams, that the record disappeared.”

The Shadow Knight said respectfully, “Yes, Master. The lineage of the Shadow Knight is of the utmost importance to the lineage of the Keeper of Secrets.”

The Council President gave a noncommittal smile and asked another question, “What is your view of the King of Shadows?”

“Radiance brings shadow. The King of Shadows is the other side of the Supreme Lord. For a Shadow Priest to serve the King of Shadows is to serve the Supreme Lord.”

The Council President nodded and said, “This theological theory sustains the faith of the Shadow Priests, preventing them from losing themselves and enabling them to resist the temptations of the Whisperers while drawing knowledge and power from them. It is of extraordinary importance! The Shadow Priests believe that in worshiping the King of Shadows, they are worshiping the Lord of Radiance. They use this theory to placate the Wizards of the Shadow Council, but the core Councilors all know… or rather, they believe that the King of Shadows is a fabrication, a deception intended to alleviate the guilt of ordinary Shadow Wizards, to prevent them from giving up on themselves and falling under the control of the Whisperers. This gives the Shadow Council greater cohesion. As for the decoy ‘Council’ Wizards that the Shadow Bishop throws to the Inquisition, those people are insignificant. They have no contact with our Shadow Council of the Keeper of Secrets’ lineage. Even if they are brutally tortured by the Inquisition’s executioners, they could never expose our Shadow Council.”

“Is the existence of the King of Shadows truly just a theological theory?”

The Shadow Knight was briefly silent before looking up and saying, “Master, you are different from the Shadow Bishops, and I am different from them as well. Even among the Shadow Bishops, once their extraordinary power reaches the Gold rank or higher, they develop their own understanding of the world. Whether the theory of the King of Shadows is real… I think that the successive generations of Shadow Bishops and those high-ranking Councilors who have entered the Hall of Dreams would have no doubt about it.”

“The Supreme Lord, the King of Shadows, and the Lord of Radiance form a trinity. The King of Shadows truly exists. He is not the Lord of Radiance; He is the other side of the Supreme Lord. The extraordinary power I possess is the most direct proof.”

The Keeper of Secrets pondered for a long time, then decided to approach the conversation from a different angle. “I have never trusted you… I thought I was the master of the Hall of Dreams, yet I first had to summon a Shadow Knight. You and I meet in this dream, and you call me Master with every other word, yet in the real world, we can never meet, nor do we even know who the other is. I have reason to doubt whether you are real, to doubt your origins and your purpose, because you cannot reveal your identity to me…”

“It is the power of the rules of the Hall of Dreams,” the Shadow Knight emphasized.

“…The rules.” The Council President nodded helplessly and continued, “Because I doubted you, I almost never summoned you. I spent more than a decade perusing the records in the Hall of Dreams, trying to learn the origin of the Shadow Knight. In doing so, I discovered many rules. Two of them left the deepest impression.”

“First, the spell models, historical secrets, and autobiographies of Shadow Bishops and high-ranking Councilors recorded in the Hall of Dreams only cover about seven hundred years of history. I cannot open the records from before that seven-hundred-year mark, but they have always hung on the walls. Based on my reading speed, those ancient books must contain at least eight thousand years of records, if they have any content inside them… Of course, they could just be empty, mere decorations for the Hall of Dreams.”

“Second, when a Shadow Bishop enters the Hall of Dreams, I cannot summon the Shadow Knight while he is present. This made me even more suspicious that you were a part of the dream, possibly a Whisperer who had invaded the Hall of Dreams.”

A wry smile formed on the Shadow Knight’s face of black mist. “I cannot understand many of the rules of the Hall of Dreams, nor can I explain them. Fortunately, Master eventually came to trust me.”

“It’s a limited trust,” the Council President interjected. “Twenty-one years ago, a Wizard in the Shadow Council grew powerful. Becoming Vice-Speaker wasn’t enough for him; he gathered a group of Wizard Councilors and tried to usurp the position of Council President. The Shadow Bishop couldn’t handle them. I tried ordering you to deal with him and his men, and you completed the task perfectly. The Shadow Bishop became convinced of my power because of it. You performed excellently in several subsequent missions, proving that the Shadow Knight is indeed the eyes, ears, and claws of the Keeper of Secrets.”

“Later, the members of the Shadow Council learned the Advent Spell, and my will was able to travel to the outside world. The things I saw and heard mostly matched your reports in the Hall of Dreams. To a certain extent, these things confirmed for me that you were a real person, not a falsehood constructed by the Whisperers.”

“Despite all that, I remained wary of you. The reason is still that we cannot reveal our true identities or specific locations to each other. On the other hand, with the Shadow Council and the Advent Spell at my disposal, I had little need to rely on you. So, I was unwilling to summon you for tasks and rarely communicated with you. If I weren’t so wary of the Trigoval family’s methods, you wouldn’t have been called upon for this plan.”

The Keeper of Secrets was very direct. With the Shadow Council under his control, he had little need to use the Shadow Knight. He would only deploy the Shadow Knight as part of his overall plan when he had to exert his full strength. Now, with the fate of the Shadow Bishop who served as his Messenger unknown and the Shadow Council disconnected from him, he had no choice but to talk with the Shadow Knight.

“Master, I can understand your misgivings…” said the Shadow Knight.

The Council President waved his hand and said self-deprecatingly, “I have never truly considered myself your master. Both you and I are bound by the rules. From now on, don’t call me Master. ‘My lord’ will suffice… Today, my long speech was actually a test, a test for loopholes in the rules of the Hall of Dreams.”

“At our level, to test the rules is to understand the rules. To understand the rules is to master the rules. And finally, to become the one who makes the rules. I cannot reveal my identity to you, but from what I’ve just said, you must discern the truth for yourself, make your own judgment, and then tell me the result.”

The Shadow Knight thought for a moment, then said contemplatively, “If the Shadow Knight were trustworthy, he could meet the Shadow Bishops and high-ranking Councilors who enter the Hall, and directly participate in the affairs of the Shadow Council. If the Shadow Bishops and high-ranking Councilors were trustworthy, they could summon the Shadow Knight… This rule of the Hall of Dreams is to prevent the Shadow Knight from interfering with the wizard organization under the Council President; to prevent the members of the Shadow Council from challenging the authority of the Council President. This indicates that the Shadow Knight can connect with the Shadow Council in reality, but the decision to allow it rests in the hands of the Keeper of Secrets.”

“Correct. This is precisely why I could never fully trust you. Although you participated in this recent plan, I did not let you know its entirety, nor did I allow you to have contact with the core members of the Shadow Council. Each of you only completed a part of the plan,” the Council President stated frankly, then asked with great interest, “What else?”

The Shadow Knight continued, “My lord, you are a devout believer in the Lord of Radiance, likely from an ascetic monk family, confined to a high mountain monastery in the Theocracy of Ayr, isolated from the world. Furthermore, you had no Tutor to teach you the ways of a Keeper of Secrets. Instead, you triggered some kind of rule and thus inherited the Hall of Dreams. The records left behind by the Keepers of Secrets who have perished are your tutors.”

Ayr has many monasteries built on sheer cliffs, where ascetic monks live as recluses, paying no heed to secular or divine authority, focusing solely on studying theology and divine arts, tempering their spirits, and praying day and night. They are a self-contained system; even the Holy See’s Curia has only a general understanding of the high mountain monasteries. These ascetic monks are the most core source of the Church’s faith. Though their divine art levels are not high, their spiritual realms are extraordinary, and their understanding and application of divine arts are exquisitely detailed. They can easily ascend to the Gold rank of the clergy, or even to Legendary, simply by performing the promotion ceremony—it all depends on the capacity of their Pool of Holy Power.

However, since the ascetic monks are mostly radical and stubborn fanatics, the Noble clergy have been reluctant to call upon them from the high mountain monasteries since the Pope lost power.

The Council President’s expression was profound. He nodded slightly. “Very good… Our conversation has bypassed the rules of the Hall of Dreams, and we have each revealed some information. You are definitely not a member of a high mountain monastery. You can walk in the outside world and yet know so much about the Church’s secrets. It’s highly likely you come from an ancient Paladin family.”

“However… I am not in a hurry to learn your origins. Now, it is your turn to reveal to me what you can, and I will make my judgment. Remember, this concerns whether or not I can trust you. Only with trust can we speak of other matters.”

The Shadow Knight asked, “My lord, could you give me a general direction?”

The Council President tapped the armrest of his high-backed throne and said, “The source of the rules… Who created the rules of the Hall of Dreams?”

The Shadow Knight raised his head and said, “According to the legacy of the Shadow Knight’s lineage, I believe the founder of the Hall of Dreams was the first Pope, Her Majesty Inoc.”

The Council President was visibly moved. He shot up from his throne and demanded in a harsh voice, “Which Paladin family does the lineage of the Shadow Knight belong to? Are… are you a Nachtigal?”

The Shadow Knight said with great solemnity, “No… We are the eighth family, outside the Seven Great Paladin Families. We have no surname and exist solely to serve the shadow aspect of the Supreme Lord.”

Chapter 690: The Keeper of Secrets’ Test

The Council President of the Keepers of Secrets’ display of shock and anger was only half-genuine. He had long harbored suspicions about the origin of the Hall of Dreams. The records currently available to him only went back eight hundred years, stating that some genius Wizard had founded the Hall of Dreams and the Keeper of Secrets’ lineage. But as his power grew and his realm of mastery ascended, the Council President had grown increasingly skeptical of this account.

There were two reasons for this.

First, the Council President was certain that to advance his own mastery of the arts any further, he would have to come out of the shadows and gain the favor of the Force of Destiny. The supposed founder was an obscure figure, and his mastery of the arts could not have been greater than his own. If he himself could not create the spell model for the Hall of Dreams, then neither could the so-called founder.

Second, assuming the records in the Hall of Dreams had once been complete, the sheer number of books suggested that the Hall’s history could be traced back to the early days of the Radiant Church, which was precisely the end of the Era of the Chosen. This made it most likely that the first Pope, His Holiness Inoc, was the one who created the Hall of Dreams.

Although the Council President wielded the divine power of Shadow, the Lord of Radiance and His Holiness Inoc held a sacred and unshakable place in his heart. Even if the King of Shadows was another incarnation of the Supreme Lord, he was more faithful to the Lord of Radiance. And His Holiness Inoc was described in theological texts as a Saint of the Lord of Radiance, His evangelist, the incarnation of the first Radiant Angel, Mikler-Mels, and the Vice-monarch of the Radiant Divine Kingdom.

From the depths of his heart, the Council President could not accept that the Vice-monarch of the Radiant Divine Kingdom would secretly plot for the awakening of the King of Shadows. As for the eighth Paladin family, this was the first he had ever heard of it; after all, even Shadow Bishops and high-ranking Councilors had limited knowledge of the circles of great lords, nobles, and Paladin families.

Regardless of whether the Shadow Knight’s words were true, his desire to replace the Lord of Radiance with the King of Shadows provoked an almost instinctive, irrational revulsion in the Council President.

The Shadow Knight could understand the Keeper of Secrets, who had been raised in the confines of the Holy Mountain Monastery. He was unconcerned by his current rage; the man was, after all, a Legendary-rank spellcaster, and rational thought was his most fundamental quality.

“My… lord, the design of the Hall of Dreams is so exquisite, it is clearly the work of an Archmage from the Era of the Chosen. For nearly a thousand years, the Trigoval family has cooperated with the priests of the Holy Mountain Monastery—the most ancient of their kind—to provide the Shadow Priests with the legacies of many Chosen Wizards. This was for them to research and develop spirit-based divine arts reliant on the Atonement Holy Crystal, as well as many other academic fundamentals.”

“I have not read the records left in the Hall by the generations of Keepers of Secrets and Shadow Bishops, but I am certain they must have documented the historical texts provided by the Holy Mountain Monastery, along with their own speculations and insights on the content. And I’m sure the secret histories they recorded deviate from the historical texts publicly proclaimed by the Church.”

“Yes,” the Council President nodded.

The Shadow Knight paused briefly before continuing, “The legacy of the hidden Knight family’s lineage records that in the middle and late stages of the War of the Chosen, the Radiant Church and the Mage Council cooperated closely… The Church’s holy power was formidable, but the clergy did not know how to wield it effectively, greatly diminishing their combat strength. The Chosen’s Mage Council needed the Radiant Church’s power to fight the more forceful Warlocks of the Pantheon, so they helped His Holiness Inoc perfect the divine art models for the clergy. In the process, the Archmages gained a profound understanding of the Lord of Radiance’s essence, second only to His Holiness Inoc himself.”

“And so, they attempted to seize the Lord of Radiance’s power for themselves… This is the fundamental reason why His Holiness Inoc, late in the war, hunted down and exterminated his former allies.”

The Council President envisioned the most terrifying of outcomes. Composing himself, he asked in a low voice, “How… did they attempt to seize it?”

“By taking advantage of the period when the Supreme Lord’s consciousness was awakening, they sought to emulate the first Pope Inoc and forge a new pact with Him. The core of it was conversion… just as we have always done, converting magical power into the holy power of Shadow. In the future, both Wizards and priests would be able to cast Shadow Divine Arts.”

“Heresy! A capital crime! Treason….”

A True God had no need for self-awareness. To be self-aware was to have desires, and if one had desires, how could one be the Supreme Lord?

Any top-tier extraordinary being could touch upon the fundamental rules of the world’s origin, and only by comparing oneself to the unconscious nature of that origin could one be called supreme. What if a deity demanded sacrifice from an extraordinary being?

To hell with such a True God… who would believe in that nonsense!

Those evil gods who craved Blood Sacrifices had demands for extraordinary beings; the blood sacrifice was, in essence, a transaction. Thus, they were defined as Devils, while the Lord of Radiance was the Supreme True God.

The difference between having self-awareness and not was the distinction between a Devil and a True God. This theory formed the theological foundation of the Radiant Church!

The Shadow Knight’s words shook the very bedrock of the Church’s belief system. Not just secular knights, but even the clergy could never accept a Lord of Radiance with a will of its own.

The Keeper of Secrets erupted in rage, hopping mad and cursing. A gale whipped through the Hall of Dreams, yet he stopped short of banishing the Shadow Knight.

Once the Keeper of Secrets had calmed, the Shadow Knight looked up and said, “The first article of the Radiant Code… Man shall not presume to speak for God!”

“Many believe this was a powerful constraint put in place by the first Pope Inoc to prevent the Lord of Radiance’s God-favored from running rampant and splintering the Church in His name.”

“But look at it from another angle… If the Supreme Lord possessed self-awareness, what would be the significance of the first article of the Radiant Code?”

What would be the significance?

What you say doesn’t count; only what we say counts. You are only responsible for converting power.

This was a precaution the Church took, preparing for a rainy day. Placing the Lord of Radiance upon the supreme throne was akin to a form of enslavement.

The Council President’s lips were sealed shut as he fell into a long, wordless silence.

The Shadow Knight rose from the ground and walked to a statue of a Shadow-Winged Angel, sighing. “His Holiness Inoc’s two most powerful extraordinary divine arts were the Great Divination and the summoning of Radiant Angels. Made of holy power, the Radiant Angels were immortal and deathless, their strength approaching the Saint realm. The Archmages of the Council of the Chosen coveted the power His Holiness Inoc possessed… They also saw through the essence of the Supreme Lord and understood how to seize His favor from the Church’s hands… It was nothing more than faith.”

“Every single church, regardless of its size, houses a statue of a Radiant Angel, its details meticulously replicated to be identical. The head priests must use a unified script when describing the might of the Radiant Angels to the faithful. Only then can the Radiant Angels summoned by His Holiness the Pope and the Spirit Priests maintain a stable divine form. And the duration of a Radiant Angel depends on the caster’s soul level and the capacity of their Pool of Holy Power.”

“All of this is a manifestation of the collective power of faith from all living beings, granting the Lord of Radiance limitless might. So, why did the Archmages of the Council of the Chosen go to such lengths to design the spell for the Hall of Dreams? Why did they place twelve statues of Shadow-Winged Angels within it?”

“They had long been plotting. They wanted to seize the power of the Supreme Lord from the Church’s grasp when the King of Shadows’ consciousness revived, to take the twelve Shadow-Winged Angels for themselves. His Holiness Inoc, master of the Great Divination, saw through the Mage Council’s scheme, severed the Council of the Chosen’s line of succession, and took the Hall of Dreams into his own hands. The lineage of the Shadow Knights and the lineage of the Keepers of Secrets originated from this.”

The Shadow Knight did not specify which parts of his tale came from the legacy of the eighth family and which were his own speculations. He continued, his words flowing like a torrent:

“The Hall of Dreams originates from the Era of the Chosen, and our two lineages bear the mission bestowed upon us by His Holiness Inoc. For over nine thousand years, the Keepers of Secrets and Shadow Knights of the Hall of Dreams have secretly gathered Wizards, teaching them the knowledge of the arts, having them help us progressively perfect the system of Shadow Divine Arts, just like the Archmages of the Chosen. ‘The Pantheon’ from fifteen hundred years ago, ‘The Shadow Council’ which has lasted for over seven hundred years to this day, and even older, unknown wizard organizations—their names have changed countlessly, their legacies have been fragmented, but the Hall of Dreams has remained constant. The system of Shadow Divine Arts is nearly complete, a fact directly reflected in my own being.”

“My lord, we have been preparing all this time, awaiting the awakening of the King of Shadows, to establish a new holy code and then push Him onto the supreme throne.”

The Keeper of Secrets did not respond, standing as still as a frozen statue.

After waiting a moment, the Shadow Knight spoke humbly, “Honored Master, the lineages of the Shadow Knights and the Keepers of Secrets follow the rules set by the first Pope; we are not to reveal our identities to each other and must act in secret. But I have my suspicions about your identity.”

The Keeper of Secrets’ eyes twitched. “Oh?” he said faintly.

“You might not even know it yourself, but the Keeper of Secrets’ lineage may well be another bloodline of the first Pope’s offspring.”

The Council President frowned slightly, pondering for a moment before his gaze shifted to the half-kneeling Shadow Knight. “On what grounds?” he asked.

“The legacy of the Shadow Knight lineage records that the King of Shadows will eventually awaken. His awakening cannot be stopped; otherwise, His Holiness Inoc would not have needed to make these arrangements, nor would the Council of the Chosen have conceived of seizing the Supreme Lord’s authority. The time for the King of Shadows to regain his will is within the next three hundred years. I can already feel His call, and it is this that has made me powerful.”

“If we fulfill the duty given to us by the first Pope, push the King of Shadows onto the supreme throne, and annihilate his will, then you will become a new first Pope as powerful as His Holiness Inoc, and we will take the place of the Nachtigals. The current Pope and the Nachtigal family will retreat into secrecy, awaiting the Rejuvenation of the Lord of Radiance.”

“This cycle of the trinity—Supreme Lord, Lord of Radiance, King of Shadows—is precisely the arrangement of His Holiness Inoc.”

The Council President’s face was impassive, his gaze profound. “If a band of ten ruffians believes you are the most vicious, you must be the most vicious, or they will trample you. If a band of a hundred refugees believes you are the most cunning, you must be sufficiently treacherous, or they will scorn you. If a village of a thousand believes you are the most intelligent village head, you must be resourceful, or they will spurn you. If a fiefdom of ten thousand believes you are a generous lord, you must be magnanimous, or you will lose their support. If a hundred thousand people believe you are perfect, you must be a paragon of morality, or they will curse your fall and cast you into the Abyss.”

“This is the essence of faith!”

“When millions of believers pray in your ear, confess, beseech, make wishes, even curse an enemy, you will lose your own will and become pure and singular. However, those prayers and convictions that violate that purity will accumulate, giving birth to a new will.”

“The pure singularity of the Lord of Radiance is Redemption; He cannot process any faith beyond that. This is not the bloody Era of the Chosen. Redemption no longer satisfies the needs of the faithful, and the power of successive Popes has gradually weakened. From this, the King of Shadows was born… to follow the path of protection and conquest, to answer the human kingdoms’ need of faith to annihilate the beastmen and pioneer new territories.”

“I do not know if I am of the first Pope’s Bloodline…”

The Council President shook his head, then changed the subject. “That’s right, I do possess the ritual method to awaken the King of Shadows. But why should I trust you?”

“The King of Shadows is to remain dormant for another two hundred forty-six years. Why do you want me to awaken Him prematurely?”

The Shadow Knight was silent for a moment before speaking with sincerity, “I am dying… In thirty-four years, my soul will be assimilated by the Elemental Sea. I am not willing to fade away into obscurity like this. I can feel the pulse of the King of Shadows and his incomparably vast divine power. If I awaken Him, my soul will be sheltered, and I will be promoted to a Saint-rank Shadow Knight.”

“Honored Master, the King of Shadows is destined to awaken. Why can’t the era of the new Church begin at your hand, and mine?”

“You appear to be very honest, but my answer is no!” The Council President nodded in approval, then remanifested his high-backed throne. Sitting down, he shook his head and said, “According to your account, the ritual to awaken the King of Shadows was created by the Council of the Chosen. How can I be sure the Archwizards of the Council didn’t intentionally leave a hidden flaw? And how can I be sure the King of Shadows will be constrained by the ritual?”

“A catastrophic risk is not something you or I can bear.”

A smile of assured victory touched the corner of the Shadow Knight’s lips. He said respectfully, “Master, it is precisely because awakening the King of Shadows carries risk that our duty is inescapable… Now is the best time. Because we have a Spirit Knight. In two hundred years, we might not.”

“Sylvia… Yes, a Spirit Knight could put an end to the King of Shadows…” The Council President seemed moved. He nodded, but then shook his head again. “Entrusting our fate to Sylvia is not the best choice. If she ends the King of Shadows, she also ends the Church.”

“I can consider performing the ritual to awaken the King of Shadows. However…” The Council President frowned, musing, “I must first be able to read the records of all the Keepers of Secrets from before seven hundred years ago and try to find the most secure method.”

The Shadow Knight asked, “Master, how can you read the records of all the past Keepers of Secrets, Shadow Bishops, and high-council Wizards?”

“By ascending my realm,” the Council President said with a firm nod. “There have been breaks in the Keeper of Secrets’ lineage. Only those who practice the meditation method can become a Keeper of Secrets. I believe that if I ascend my realm, I should be able to view the earlier records. If I fail, then there’s nothing I can do… In any case, I must try with all my might. Otherwise, I would rather leave this problem for my successor to solve.”

For the Council President to ascend his realm, he needed to push the Shadow Priests into the limelight to gain a legitimate reputation and thus seek the favor of destiny. But without a legitimate reputation, neither the great lords nor the internal factions of the Church would accept a newly risen political force.

The matter had come full circle, right back to where it started.

The Shadow Knight was speechless. The Council President’s eyes glinted as he said with a smile, “I might as well tell you, I began gathering the key materials for the awakening ritual over a decade ago. For this, I even tacitly allowed The Shadow Council to cooperate with the Dodor Kingdom to plot against Viscount Randell. Although the assassination attempt failed and led to him attacking you on sight, I was fortunate to obtain a Wizard from a Dodor spy. His Wizardry helped us determine the precise location of the material.”

The Shadow Knight asked, “What is this material? And where is it?”

“An ancient crystal, sealing the blood of an Ancient Behemoth. The ritual to awaken the King of Shadows requires the Blood of Chaos, and the Blood of Chaos can be extracted from the blood of an Ancient Behemoth… Don’t ask me what the Blood of Chaos is. I don’t know either.”

“That ancient crystal is hidden in the Great Marsh north of the Eastern Alliance, guarded by a nearby Hydra Lizard. Even if The Shadow Council mobilized all its forces, it would be extremely difficult to retrieve the ancient crystal from the Hydra Lizard’s lair.”

“I can hand The Shadow Council over to you. If you can bring back the ancient crystal, I will agree to perform the awakening ritual.”

This was the Council President’s test. The Shadow Bishop who had been acting as Messenger was now dead, and The Shadow Council was on the verge of losing control, which could lead to disaster. The Keeper of Secrets urgently needed the Shadow Knight to step forward, contact the core members of The Shadow Council, and perform a descent ritual to allow his own will to walk in the outside world. At the same time, he wanted to see how much power the Shadow Knight’s lineage had hidden away, and whether it was enough to kill a Hydra Lizard.

The Shadow Knight understood the Keeper of Secrets’ intentions, and he understood even better what a Hydra Lizard represented.

Such a creature was a Legendary-rank lord creature, its own power comparable to that of Dragons. Even Sylvia might not be guaranteed a victory against it. The deadliest part was that the Hydra Lizard controlled countless Lizardmen. Fighting it would be no less than waging a Kingdom War, the kind you were more likely to lose than win.

The Shadow Knight shook his head. “Master, I am willing to give my all for you, but I’m afraid that with my power and that of The Shadow Council, it is still an impossible task.”

“If the Shadow Priests come out into the open and mobilize the power of the various kingdoms, it can be done,” the Council President interjected. “In fact, the situation is not without a turning point… There is still room to maneuver in our relationship with Baselius. Didn’t you say the Radiant Knights want to put Nachtigal’s bloodline on the throne of the Sasan Empire?”

“If we prevent Elizabeth Frederick from ascending the throne, Baselius will be able to restore the Iron Mountain Empire and enter into sharp conflict with the Radiant Knights. At that point, they will be willing to let the Shadow Priests come out into the open.”

The Council President laughed freely. “There is a Councilor within The Shadow Council whose Wizardry is quite powerful, and he is fundamentally a good person. But he has a blood feud with the Inquisition and can never let go of the thought of avenging his family. Since he will not submit to the teachings of the Supreme Lord, he can only be made to disappear.”

“I will give you the list of core members of The Shadow Council. Find them and order them to perform the descent ritual. Additionally, I require you to investigate the whereabouts of Princess Elizabeth Frederick… That Councilor will make her disappear.”

The Shadow Knight remained half-kneeling, motionless. After a long moment, he bowed his head and said, “As you wish, my Honored Master.”

Early morning, Laketon.

Morning prayer had just ended. The townspeople bid farewell to the priest who had led the prayer and streamed out of the Church, beginning their busy day. They were surprised to see Father Miller strolling down the street with a wide grin. Usually at this time, he would be immersed in work at the Randell Cathedral construction site.

People greeted the old priest they so adored, and he nodded back with a smile. A well-dressed man in his prime walked briskly up, took off his hat, held it to his chest, and bowed to Father Miller. “Good day, Esteemed Master Miller.”

“Oh, it’s Kenlo,” Father Miller said, nodding with an amiable smile. “Your wife is about due, isn’t she?”

“Praise the Supreme Lord,” the man said gratefully. “Mary fell outside the Church last time, and it’s thanks to you, Esteemed Master Miller, that she and the child are safe.”

“It’s inconvenient for Mary. She should just pray at home. There’s no need to come all the way to the Church to pray. Make sure she gets plenty of rest, and you should take good care of her.”

Father Miller advised him earnestly. Kenlo nodded repeatedly in agreement and said with a smile, “The little one is restless in Mama’s belly. I almost wish he would be born sooner.”

“Haha, a child born early is surely… up to no good… haha.” Father Miller clapped Kenlo on the shoulder and walked off, laughing.

Kenlo watched the old priest’s back and scratched his head. “What happened to make Esteemed Master Miller so happy?”

Chapter 691: The Missing Princess (Part 1)

In the Dodor Kingdom, Northern Prefecture, Barony of Boltok.

In the damp and gloomy forest, hundreds of gray-furred rats stood in a perfect circle, surrounding four men cloaked in hooded capes. The rats were as silent and still as lifeless specimens, creating a truly bizarre scene.

“I’ve investigated thoroughly. The target arrived in Watertide Town yesterday evening with several hundred guards. The local lord is hosting a banquet for her tonight at his manor outside of town. But since she’s from the religious inquisition, she’s certain to stay at the Church in Watertide Town,” said the man on the far left, his voice youthful.

He paused, then added with some hesitation, “We could make our move tonight…”

“Rat King, you’ve worked hard.” The man in the center raised a hand, pulling back his hood and removing a red copper mask. He revealed an aged but resolute face, his earthen-brown eyes tinged with a dark red, as if a fire burned within. In a deep voice, he declared, “This is a righteous vengeance. There is no need to wait for the cover of night. I want the commoners of Watertide Town to witness Barkley’s vengeful wrath—right in the Watertide Town Church, this very afternoon!”

The young Wizard known as Rat King stared in shock at the man’s face and stammered, “Spirit… Spiritbinder, my lord, you…”

“Don’t call me Spiritbinder anymore.” The old Wizard clapped Rat King on the shoulder and took an insignia of the Masked Brotherhood from his belt pouch, handing it to him. “Now that I have revealed my true face, I hereby withdraw from the Shadow Council and the Masked Brotherhood. This is a personal vendetta and has nothing to do with the organization. As for my apprentices…” His gaze shifted to the other two men, and he smiled. “Mist and Bat will, of course, lend me a hand.”

“We are willing to serve our mentor!” the two Wizards said in unison.

The powerful Spiritbinder had resolved to die. Rat King sighed inwardly but still tried to persuade him. “Your Excellency, please reconsider. After all, we are now noble extraordinary beings, possessing power and wealth, and the Council President has been planning great things.”

The old Wizard shook his head and smiled. “If, like you, I had accepted the shadow’s protection before being discovered by the Church’s vicious hounds, I too would support the Council President’s ideals… But my parents, my brother and sister-in-law, my young little sister, and my nephew who had just learned to walk—they were all impaled on wooden stakes. They knew nothing. They were innocent…”

“I joined the Shadow Council not for any ideals, but for revenge!”

“The blood of the innocent must be repaid with blood!”

Rat King gave up on persuasion. He shook his head and said, “If Your Excellency insists on acting in broad daylight, I’ll inform the Brotherhood members to evacuate Watertide Town at once…”

“They’re all just a bunch of damned ruffians. Don’t bother with them,” the old Wizard said, his expression cold. “I have always been reluctant to participate in the Conclave meetings, preferring to focus on my Wizardry. This time was no exception, but the Council President’s apparition came to me, trying to persuade me… But this was our agreement, do you understand? I work for the Council President, and the Shadow Council finds the offspring of my enemies for me. I will carry out my blood vengeance myself. It’s as simple as that.”

“Wouldn’t you agree, Your Excellency Shadow…?”

Rat King followed the old Wizard’s gaze toward the shadow of a large tree. There, a figure shrouded in darkness with a blurred face had taken shape. He quickly bowed respectfully. “Vice-Speaker, you’re here as well?”

“I’m not here to help.” The Shadow Knight glanced at Rat King before turning his gaze to the Spiritbinder. In a more courteous tone, he said, “The Shadow Council is cooperating with the Dodor Royal Family. The Council President is honoring his promise to provide intelligence and convenience for your revenge, but he does not wish for your personal feud to cause the cooperation between the Friedrich royal family and the Council to fail.”

“As long as the revenge operation does not involve the Shadow Council or the Masked Brotherhood… sacrificing a few of the Brotherhood’s secret agents is of no concern,” the Shadow Knight stated flatly. “I am here on the Council President’s orders to review Your Excellency Spiritbinder’s plan for any flaws. After all, Rat King, Mist, and Bat are still members of the Council.”

Rat King’s earlier surprise vanished, and his heart tightened. The Council President had recently convened a Conclave, sending the Shadow Knight to contact the various Councilors. But no one knew the Shadow Knight. He had first subdued each Councilor with overwhelming power before relaying the President’s orders. Rat King’s mentor, “Giant,” had been one of them. Seeing his own mentor so easily suppressed by the Shadow Knight had given Rat King a profound understanding of how terrifying this man was.

The Shadow Knight’s tone was calm, but Rat King and the other two Wizards knew that if the Spiritbinder’s operation went awry, he would undoubtedly silence them by killing them before they could be captured by the clergy.

The Spiritbinder frowned, displeased. “Is that necessary? Each of us has been placed under a Soul Burst Spell. If captured, our heads will explode. We will be spared the torment of our souls being burned by Holy Fire, and more importantly, we won’t expose the Council’s secrets.”

The Shadow Knight nodded and explained, “The Soul Burst Spell is not foolproof. The entire process takes over ten seconds… A priest’s fifth-level Soothing spell can calm a restless soul and repair soul damage, possibly even reversing the Soul Burst. The Council’s Wizards have always avoided the clergy in past operations, but this time, Your Excellency is facing a core member of the Inquisition. Not only will she have Sacred Warriors by her side, but also High-ranked Priests… perhaps even a Gold Paladin.”

“Also, let me be clear about one more thing. The ‘Concealment Charm’ the Council President prepared for you can disrupt the Church’s Demon-Detecting Ritual, but the elemental disturbance caused by a Wizard casting spells cannot escape the Perception of a high-ranked Paladin. If you remain stationary while casting continuously, a high-ranked Paladin will quickly pinpoint your location and knock you unconscious. By the time you wake up, you won’t even know what just happened.”

The Spiritbinder did not care about his own life, but he had to consider the safety of Rat King and his two students. He said pensively, “Your Excellency is so knowledgeable about the clergy and Sacred Warriors… In that case, I will detail my plan of vengeance. Please help me revise it and find a secure escape route for these three.”

He described his plan in detail. After listening, the Shadow Knight proposed a new plan, explaining the reasons for the changes. The Spiritbinder and the three Wizards raised their concerns, which the Shadow Knight addressed one by one. Finally, they settled on a new operational plan that everyone approved of.

Seeing no objections from the four Wizards, the Shadow Knight nodded. “Everyone will proceed according to this plan… Allow me one final piece of advice, Your Excellency Spiritbinder. You are one of the Council’s few Gold rank spellcasters. Even if you kill a core member of the Trigovar family, your own family cannot be brought back to life, and you will lose your own. It is not too late to stop now.”

“There’s no need to persuade me.” The fire in the Spiritbinder’s eyes leaped as he said firmly, “I joined the Shadow Council for this day alone!”

“…Then I wish you all good luck.” The Shadow Knight gave him a deep look, then leaped into the tree’s shadow and vanished without a trace.

That guy appears and disappears like a ghost, he’s too dangerous… Rat King muttered to himself, wiping the sweat that had trickled down to his jaw. He turned to the old Wizard. “Your Excellency, you may begin.”

The Spiritbinder nodded, his face expressionless. He began chanting, and wizarding runes of interwoven ochre and dark red materialized from the void. The ground beneath his feet writhed as if concealing a terrible monster. The dead branches and rotten leaves covering the earth were swallowed up, revealing black, gelatinous mud from which hundreds of small tentacles emerged. These muddy tentacles coalesced and compressed into thumb-sized black spheres with a tough texture.

“Rat King, deliver these Puppet Seeds to the designated locations, and then you may leave. I will launch my attack before dusk. Hurry now, get as far away as you can.”

Rat King snapped his fingers. The gray-furred rats stirred, each swallowing a black sphere before scurrying out of the gloomy forest and scattering in all directions.

“Your Excellency, my mentor has made three ‘Giant’s Charms’ for you. They can increase the effectiveness of your Wizardry by up to thirty percent, or extend your casting range by fifty percent.” Rat King took three charms made of White crystals from his pouch and handed them to the Spiritbinder. “My mentor asked me to remind Your Excellency that using a ‘Giant’s Charm’ will accelerate your mana consumption. The stronger the enhancement, the faster your mana will deplete.”

A rare smile appeared on the Spiritbinder’s face. He accepted the “Giant’s Charms” and nodded. “Please thank His Excellency ‘Giant’ for me. It’s a pity I have nothing of value to repay him with…” He gave two of the charms to his students, then turned and said, “I’ve left some of my notes and insights on Wizardry at my hideout in the Eastern Alliance. When Bat and Mist return, they will deliver my manuscripts to His Excellency ‘Giant’. I also ask that your mentor look after my two students.”

Three wizarding charms and the promise of limited aid in exchange for the life’s work of a high-ranked Wizard and his two disciples. Rat King was in awe of his mentor’s shrewdness, yet he couldn’t help but sigh inwardly.

Rat King had never considered the servants of the Supreme Lord as his enemies. He was more aligned with the Council President’s ideals, longing for a day when he would no longer have to live as a fugitive, branded an Evildoer.

The Spiritbinder was one of the most brilliant Wizards among the Council’s mentors. He was determined to avenge his family, willing to sacrifice his own life. Who knew what kind of disaster he might cause? And his target was a core member of the Inquisition, no less.

If the Spiritbinder’s revenge derails the Council’s years of planning, does that make me an accomplice? Rat King thought, his heart heavy. He placed a hand over his chest and bowed. “Your Excellency, my pets will deliver the Puppet Seeds to the designated areas. If you have no further instructions, I will take my leave.”

“Take care.”

The Spiritbinder nodded calmly. Watching Rat King’s hasty departure, he turned to his two students and said, “Let’s begin our preparations.”

In the central Church of Watertide Town, twelve murals of Radiant Angels adorned the walls of the prayer hall. A group of people was gathered around a young noblewoman, admiring the angel mural closest to the Altar of Holy Light.

“Micklemers, the first of our Lord’s Radiant Archangels, the Vice-monarch of the Divine Kingdom of Radiance… He is the only Radiant Angel with a name, responsible for watching over all evil. He is the embodiment of wisdom and sanctity, also known as the All-Knowing Eye,” the noble girl said with great enthusiasm.

She wore a simple set of Paladin’s leather armor. Her short, reddish-brown hair only reached her earlobes. Her features were delicate and refined, her umber eyes bright and spirited. At first glance, she looked more like a handsome, dashing young man. A closer look, however, would reveal specks of green light within her irises, like the shimmering moonlight on a lake’s surface.

Eyes that held a brilliant glimmer—that was the unique trait of the direct bloodline of the Nachtigal family.

“Princess Frederick, do you know what the ‘All-Knowing Eye’ is?” a middle-aged priest in red Bishop’s robes asked with a kindly smile.

“The All-Knowing Eye? It combines the powers of foresight, present-sight, and prophecy, allowing one to perceive the past, present, and future. His Majesty, the first Pope Inoc, was an incarnation of the All-Knowing Eye, Micklemers. When he foretold an outcome, it was the Great Divination,” Elizabeth Frederick answered earnestly. She paused, then asked, “Your Excellency Dister, is my explanation correct?”

Cardinal Dister nodded, pointing out gently, “Your Highness’s answer is correct, but it is limited to the descriptions in theological texts. Only by connecting these classics to real-world examples can Your Highness gain a unique and profound understanding.”

“The followers of the Supreme Lord are all His eyes, His ears, His hands, and His feet. All that they see, hear, think, and experience—be it mundane or magnificent; trivial or concrete; sinful or righteous; sullied or pure—is gathered as one, and that is omniscience.”

“His Majesty Inoc was, of course, an incarnation of Micklemers, but we clergy and secular lords, as long as we uphold our Lord’s teachings, can also be the ‘All-Knowing Eye’… In the face of devout faith, there is no distinction between high and low, whether you are a Paladin, a Sacred Warrior, a priest, or a secular lord.”

Elizabeth turned her head away, her face full of displeasure. She said sourly, “I don’t understand. Besides, I’m not a Paladin…”

Bishop Dister’s explanation of the “All-Knowing Eye” was indeed a bit convoluted, but only for an ordinary person. For Nobles and clergy not to understand what he was saying, they would have to be either idiots or playing dumb.

On a practical level, the faithful in every diocese would prattle on to their church priests about every trivial matter. An essential skill for a resident priest was to listen to the words of the faithful, pick out valuable information, record it on a parchment scroll, and regularly report it to the diocese, where it would be compiled and analyzed by specialists.

These trivial reports held an incalculable, wondrous value. By compiling the “daily lives” of the faithful, the Church could uncover many secrets, such as deducing the secret potion formula a great lord was developing based on the types of herbs his caravans were purchasing, a task for the Potion-making specialists in the Monastery.

This was the All-Knowing Eye in reality.

On a spiritual level, the prayers, confessions, and wishes of the faithful directed to the Supreme Lord were almost never omitted or concealed. These very things formed the basis for casting the Great Divination—the Lord of Radiance’s All-Knowing Eye.

The cost of casting the Great Divination was exorbitant; in comparison, the practical All-Knowing Eye was far more feasible. Both the Church and secular lords could predict changes in certain matters by gathering information, laying the groundwork in advance to eliminate threats or gain an advantage—a different form of the art of prophecy.

Dister is truly worthy of being Patriarch Flidis’s chosen heir. He has masterfully integrated theology and statecraft. With his assistance, the Sasan Empire should be able to maintain stability for decades to come… Paladin Solariven Testier praised silently. But seeing Elizabeth’s stubborn and resentful expression, he felt a headache coming on.

This little sister of his wanted nothing more than to be a Paladin. It wasn’t surprising. What child from a Paladin family didn’t dream of becoming a Paladin?

The Testier family was large and prosperous, with numerous offspring, but the number of Paladin positions was limited. The family couldn’t have every child awaken the Mark of Light. Some had to walk the path of the secular knight, seeking a future at the Sasan Empire’s Blood Wolfhold.

Thus, “If you don’t train hard, we’ll send you to Blood Wolfhold” had become a tactic the Testiers used to scare their youngsters, and it never failed.

Growing up in such an environment, Elizabeth was naturally unwilling to go to the Sasan Empire to be some princess. But her status was special; she had to bear the heavy burden of the Sasan Emperor. To make matters worse, her high bloodline had made her the darling of the family elders and the envy of her peers, nurturing a proud and willful personality. Because the Grand Commander and Patriarch Flidis had decided to put Elizabeth on the throne of the Sasan Empire, Bishop Dister had come to the Theocracy of Ayr to escort her. Along the way, she had attempted to run away no less than twenty times, which was a real headache.

Solariven had only recently been promoted to Gold Paladin. The chances of Elizabeth vanishing under his nose were practically zero.

Even if he hadn’t reached the Gold rank, Elizabeth still wouldn’t have been able to escape. Grand Commander Testier had dispatched two hundred Sacred Warriors to escort her to Sasan. The contingent included not only the High-ranked Priest Dister, but also two Silver rank Paladins, eight Adjudicators, and six battle priests. These men were all seasoned veterans, experienced and worldly. How could they possibly let a naive girl like Elizabeth get away? Any one of them could have dragged her back.

Solariven had joined the escort to ensure Elizabeth’s safety, to prevent the Baselius family from making a desperate move and assassinating the future Empress Regnant of Sasan.

Although they were called brother and sister, Solariven was actually forty-five years older than Elizabeth and had always treated the little girl like a niece. Seeing Elizabeth so dejected made Solariven feel bad as well. During their journey, he would try to cheer her up by talking about interesting things. At first, Elizabeth showed some interest in the customs and landscapes of the Warton Great Plains and the Sasan Empire, but as they drew closer to the Empire, she began telling Solariven more and more that she was homesick, and her escape attempts grew more frequent.

Solariven indulged Elizabeth as much as he could, playing several games of cat and mouse with her.

She’s still just a child. She’ll adapt once she’s an adult… the Gold Paladin thought to himself.

In the eyes of an Extraordinary Knight with a high bloodline, family knights under the age of forty were not yet adults. Only after forty, upon stepping into the Silver realm, did they truly begin a new chapter in life.

“Isha, if you’re bored, I can have someone take you for a walk around the Commoners’ District in Watertide Town,” Solariven said with a smile.

Elizabeth’s eyes darted around as she began to hatch another grand escape plan, but her delicate face was a mask of delight. “Really? Then I’ll go change my clothes and put on some makeup.”

Solariven knew exactly what she was thinking. He smiled. “Of course, you’ll have to disguise yourself first. It would be no fun if people could tell you’re a Knight-Noble at a single glance.”

“Brother, it’s not a Knight-Noble’s identity, it’s a Paladin’s identity,” Elizabeth pouted, correcting him.

Solariven could only throw his hands up in surrender and change the subject. “Alright, alright… Where do you want to go?”

“The mercenary tavern in Watertide Town,” Elizabeth said, pursing her lips, before dashing off toward the back of the church.

Bishop Dister watched her disappear, shaking his head with a chuckle. He gestured to the resident priest and asked, “Are there any Rangers of unknown origin or newly registered mercenary companies in Watertide Town’s mercenary tavern?”

The resident priest bowed. “My lord, Whitewater Fortress is currently recruiting mercenary companies to clear out Gnolls and Goblins at the pioneering outpost in the Ghost Forest. Mercenary companies and Rangers from all over are heading there, and Watertide Town is a necessary stop on the way to Whitewater Fortress. Many mercenaries and Rangers are staying here, among them many strangers. However, please rest assured, my lord. As soon as we received the notice from the diocese, we expelled all mercenary companies registered within the last three years and any Rangers without a reputation. Currently, there are three mercenary companies staying at the mercenary inn. The Fire Lion Mercenary Company is a relatively new face, but they are from Gambis, have over thirty years of mercenary experience, are on file with the Church, and their roster matches our records.”

“The Fire Lion Mercenary Company? How many people?” Dister asked with a frown.

“Twenty-four people. Their commander is named Octavia, twenty-one years old, an illegitimate daughter of noble bloodline. She’s also a registered Ranger. I have their submitted documents here, would you like to see them?” the resident priest asked respectfully.

“No need to trouble yourself,” Dister waved his hand and commanded dismissively, “Order them to leave the mercenary tavern in Watertide Town immediately. They are only permitted to camp in the Freemen’s shantytown outside the city walls.”

Chapter 692: The Missing Princess (Part 2)

When Elizabeth emerged again, she had changed into a suit of old leather armor with a shortsword hanging at her waist. The equipment was of ordinary design and well-maintained, but many areas showed clear signs of wear. She had used some kind of potion to turn her fair, lustrous skin to a wheat-like tan. At a glance, she looked like an ordinary young female mercenary.

Solariven sized her up and nodded, teasing, “Not bad. Your makeup skills are getting more and more proficient.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, knowing her Gold Paladin brother was mocking her for secretly honing her quick-disguise skills for the purpose of running away.

“Can I go now?” she asked, a little embarrassed and annoyed.

Just as Solariven was about to speak, his ears twitched, and his gaze shifted to the church entrance. Two well-trained Sacred Warriors immediately walked out. Not long after, they ran back, carrying a breathless young guard.

“My lord, there’s a suspected awakening of an Evildoer at Baron Boltok’s manor,” the Sacred Warrior reported grimly, setting the young guard down.

The quiet Church was instantly in an uproar. Elizabeth’s eyes lit up. Gripping the red copper hilt of her sword, she exclaimed excitedly, “An Evildoer… a Wizard? Where, where? I’m going to purge this evil!”

Princess Frederick was jumping up and down, eager to set off immediately and eliminate the newly awakened Evildoer, but no one paid her any mind.

This was Divine Favor delivered right to their doorstep; there was no way it would fall to a princess who wasn’t even a Paladin yet.

Bishop Dister pointed at the green-faced guard and instructed the resident priest of Watertide Town, “Get the full story first, then perform the Demon-Detecting Ritual. Don’t make any mistakes…”

The resident priest understood immediately. The first question he asked was, “Little Kru, did the Baroness send you to the Church for help?”

The young guard replied without thinking, “Yes, esteemed priest McCann… Just a moment ago, a huge, strange noise came from outside the lord’s manor. The sound was bizarre and its location kept changing. My Lady took the manor guards to search for a while but couldn’t find the source, so she sent me to report to the Church that an Evildoer might be active near the manor.”

The resident priest was quite satisfied. Capturing Wizards was the Church’s duty, but the cost of the Demon-Detecting Ritual was not cheap, requiring holy power crystals worth several thousand Gold Sols. Since the request to capture a Wizard came from the Baroness, if the ritual showed no Wizard was nearby, the expense would naturally fall on Baron Boltok.

Fortunately, Baron Boltok and his Elite Soldiers had followed King Friedrich on his campaign and had not yet returned from the Westdon Khanate. The Baroness had no one else to send and had dispatched a greenhorn to tip them off. Had it been an experienced vassal’s cavalryman, he would never have fallen for the resident priest’s verbal trap.

“My lord, what do you think?” the resident priest asked Bishop Dister with an obsequious smile.

Dister replied with dignified magnanimity, “Prepare the holy power crystals. I will personally preside over the Demon-Detecting Ritual.”

The resident priest had a Church attendant retrieve five holy power crystals and place them into the slots of the Holy Light altar. Dister stepped forward, knelt before the Holy Light, and silently recited the ritual prayer. A platinum-gold mist seeped from his body, and the five white crystals, suffused with Holy Light, quickly began to glow red.

There really was a Wizard?!

The clergy’s expressions turned serious. Elizabeth gripped her sword hilt even tighter, her lips pursed, her eyes fixed on the brilliantly red altar.

When the red light gradually faded, Priest Dister stood up and turned around to announce solemnly, “Our Lord has given me a revelation. There is an Evildoer active nearby… Male, around twenty-five years old, with rank 2 Wizardry. His ability is sound. He has short brown hair, grayish-green eyes, a slight build, and is wearing a coarse flax short robe, dressed as a woodcutter. He is located in the forest sixteen kilometers northeast of the Church and is currently fleeing toward the eastern part of the woods.”

Elizabeth jumped out impatiently and began issuing commands, “Prepare three squads of Sacred Warriors. We’re going to capture the Evildoer.”

“A twenty-five-year-old rank 2 Wizard? This Evildoer didn’t just awaken, he’s already an adult… So is he a local or an outsider?”

“Regardless of his identity, the lord of this land has requested aid from the Church, so we must capture him.”

“It is our duty to capture the offspring of Devils. The problem is, we are unfamiliar with the terrain here. We’ll need the Church to provide a guide.”

“The Wizard has been exposed. He won’t get far…”

The Adjudicators and Paladins gathered, discussing animatedly, completely ignoring Princess Frederick’s orders.

Elizabeth’s little face fell. She tried to squeeze into the discussion, but someone grabbed her arm and pulled her out. It was Solariven the Paladin.

So improper. Does she really think this is a large diocese in the Sasan Empire… Solariven held Elizabeth by his side, cleared his throat, and said to the resident priest, “Priest McCann, this is your diocese. An Evildoer is active here. Do you require our assistance in capturing him? Or should you report to your superior bishop and have him dispatch Sacred Warriors for the capture?”

The local lord and his army had not returned, nor had Watertide Town’s squad of Sacred Warriors. If the Evildoer had just awakened and was only a child, Father McCann could have easily sent a few people to capture him. However, the Demon-Detecting Ritual indicated that the Wizard was not only an adult but had also reached rank 2 in Wizardry. This meant he knew how to hide and had trained his abilities. Capturing him with Watertide Town’s current Sacred Warriors would likely be difficult.

However, the entire Dodor Kingdom was part of Patriarch Tamor’s diocese. The Radiant Knights were just passing through Watertide Town. If they captured the Wizard, received the Divine Favor, and then left, the superior bishop would only reprimand the Watertide Town Church for dereliction of duty.

He could do without the Divine Favor, but he absolutely could not lose control of his diocese, nor could he choose the wrong side to support.

The Gold Paladin’s polite inquiry for assistance was a great relief to Father McCann. He beamed and said, “I humbly request the aid of His Highness Testier and Bishop Dister in capturing Watertide Town’s Evildoer. I will personally lead a few men as guides to assist you two lords.”

Solariven and Dister exchanged a smile. Solariven turned to a Silver Paladin in the armor of the Inquisition and said, “Belto, take two squads of Sacred Warriors and make a trip.”

Belto Trigovar nodded and called his men to head out and capture the Wizard.

Elizabeth watched as several young, excited Paladins followed Belto out of the Church. She asked anxiously, “What about me? I…”

“You?” Solariven held onto his little sister, who was younger than his own daughter, and said with a teasing smile, “Weren’t you planning to go to the mercenary tavern?”

Elizabeth was speechless. Channeling her Aura, she flung her arm and broke free from Solariven’s grasp, storming toward the living quarters within the Church.

“I’m not interested anymore! I’m going to sleep, don’t disturb me!”

Encountering a Wizard was just a minor interlude. Belto leading more than fifty members of the clergy to capture a rank 2 Wild Wizard was a foolproof mission. Elizabeth sulking and running back to her room to sleep was an even more trivial matter. Solariven and Dister went to the clergy’s rest area in the Church to discuss which of them should receive the Divine Favor for purifying the Wizard.

While they were awaiting the results of the mission, one of the Adjudicators responsible for protecting Bishop Dister ran into the rest area. His expression was grim as he reported, “The situation has changed. The lord’s manor is under attack by a Wizard. A group of evil puppet monsters has invaded the manor. Baroness Boltok is organizing the militia to resist. She has sent her youngest son and daughter to the castle in Watertide Town to request aid from the Church and has asked for the alarm bell to be rung!”

Bishop Dister’s face changed instantly. He shot to his feet and demanded, “A Wizard is attacking the local lord’s manor? Where are Belto and Priest McCann? Where are they now?”

“…I don’t know,” the Adjudicator said, shaking his head. “Lord Belto should still be in the forest, hunting the first Wizard…”

“The fleeing Wizard can’t be the one attacking the manor. The Demon-Detecting Ritual just now showed that the Wizard was first near the manor, then fled east into the forest. With the physique and speed of a twenty-five-year-old, he should be more than ten kilometers from the manor by now. A rank 2 Wizard couldn’t possibly have such a long casting range,” Solariven Testier interjected, shaking his head. He added, “Besides, if he were the one attacking the manor, Belto and the others would have already engaged him, and the Baroness wouldn’t be in such a hurry to ask us for help.”

“His Highness is right,” Bishop Dister said, calming down. He asked the Adjudicator, “What kind of evil puppets? How many are there?”

“According to the old steward who escorted the Baron’s youngest son and daughter, they’re a group of puppets made of earth and rock. They can’t be killed by weapons, and there may be two or three hundred of them,” the Adjudicator replied.

“There’s no need to ring the alarm bell. Release a Church messenger raven. Send a squad of Sacred Warrior scouts to split into two groups. One group will find brother Belto Trigovar and have them reinforce the lord’s manor; the other will go directly to the manor and tell the Baroness to retreat to Watertide Town,” Bishop Dister ordered.

After the Adjudicator left, he explained to Solariven, “It’s confirmed to be Earth Element Animation Wizardry… Puppets of this type are relatively slow. The fact that the Baroness was able to send her children out means she can disengage from the battle whenever she wants. It just means letting the Wizard destroy the Boltok family’s historic manor… As for over two hundred puppets, haha, to cast Wizardry of this scale, that Wizard would have to be extraordinarily powerful… Heh, it’s possible Baroness Bostok exaggerated the numbers.”

Bishop Dister chuckled dismissively, then his face turned grim. “Regardless, for a Wizard to openly attack a lord, we cannot stand by and do nothing now that we’ve encountered it. Let’s have brother Trigovar investigate the situation first before we decide.”

When a lord was attacked by a Wizard, it was either due to a personal grudge or for other reasons. If it was revenge, it must be some ignorant Wild Wizard, who were generally weak, lacked a sense of reverence, and tended to act alone. Since there were two Wizards cooperating here, the chance of a Wild Wizard seeking revenge on a lord was minuscule.

Moreover, all wizard organizations were controlled by the Church and major secular lords. Even if they wanted to deal with the Boltok family, they wouldn’t choose a time when Princess Elizabeth was staying in Watertide Town to make their move.

The only possibility was that they were here for Elizabeth Frederick.

As a female knight, Baroness Bostok surely understood this. Unwilling to draw fire upon herself and earn the resentment of the Baselius family, she simply followed normal procedure and requested aid from the Church instead of leading the manor’s guards back to Watertide Town for safety.

As for the Baselius family daring to cause trouble in Baron Boltok’s territory, King Friedrich and the Gold-Sparrow Duke would settle that score with them later.

Solariven Testier nodded slightly and said, “Alright, we’ll wait for news in the Church.”

Bishop Dister thought for a moment and said, “I’ll go perform another Demon-Detecting Ritual and arrange for security measures while I’m at it.”

Security at the Watertide Town Church was tightened discreetly. Another female Silver Paladin and a battle priest stood guard over Elizabeth in her living quarters. After Bishop Dister completed the second Demon-Detecting Ritual, his face became extremely grim. “Legendary-rank…” he said heavily. “Earth Element Animation Wizardry. The Wizard’s specific details are unknown, but his location is within the lord’s manor.”

“How could there be a Legendary-rank Wizard?” A blue light swirled in Solariven’s eyes as he asked, his expression both grave and perplexed.

He didn’t believe the Baselius family had a Legendary-rank Wizard. Even the Inquisition didn’t have Shadow Priests of that caliber. And even if the Baselius family did have such a Wizard, would they be willing to sacrifice a Legendary-rank extraordinary being for the throne?

If they thought killing Elizabeth would restore the Iron Mountain Empire, they were daydreaming! Auroxia and Urien weren’t that foolish.

Dister glanced around and said pensively, “Your Highness Testier, we may have overlooked something… the Whisperer.”

Solariven’s expression finally changed. He gritted his teeth and said, “Devils?”

“Yes.” Dister nodded. “We have never encountered a Legendary-rank Wizard… unless he was tempted by the Whisperer and learned innate Wizardry, and there is something in the Boltok family’s manor that It desires.”

Solariven’s gaze flickered. After a moment of thought, he picked up his Mithril warbow and said, “I’ll go take a look alone. You all protect Elizabeth. If necessary, you can take shelter in the lord’s castle.”

The lord’s manor was over ten kilometers from Watertide Town. Solariven arrived at the scene quickly. He didn’t rush to join the battle, but calmly observed the situation.

The manor grounds were a wreck, with fallen trees and collapsed buildings everywhere. The dozens of Sacred Warriors who had gone to capture the Wizard were already engaged with the enemy. Their opponents were a host of puppets made of earth, rock, and a black gelatinous substance.

These puppets resembled humanoids, about 1.5 meters tall. The black gelatinous substance, like muscles and sinews, writhed like snakes, connecting hard rocks to form heavy armor. The gaps were filled with earth, and their arms ended in blunt-headed stone swords, which they used to launch fierce attacks on the surrounding Sacred Warriors.

They were incredibly strong; a single strike from a stone sword could send wood splinters flying from a fence. Solariven had no doubt that if a Sacred Warrior were hit by a puppet, they would suffer a severe bludgeoning injury, even with the protection of the Sacred Aegis Art. Fortunately, the earth elementals’ attack patterns were rigid and simple, and their movement speed was only slightly faster than an ordinary person’s, so they couldn’t land a blow on the highly skilled Sacred Warriors.

However, the earth puppets seemed completely immune to normal damage. Even if the Sacred Warriors and manor guards beat them into a pile of mud, the black gelatinous substance could absorb earth and rock to reform itself. The earth they absorbed was even transforming into rock.

These puppets had no weaknesses; ordinary people couldn’t kill them at all!

But the Sacred Sword Art of the Paladins could sever the black ooze. Although it struggled to reform, after being scattered a few times, the puppet would become inert.

The problem was that the shattered bits of black ooze were constantly moving toward the center of the battlefield. There, a giant puppet, more than four meters tall, stood. With one punch, it could smash a large crater in the ground, more violent than even an Ogre Warlord!

Belto Trigovar was leaping about on the giant puppet’s body. He nimbly dodged black ooze tentacles that shot out from the cracks in the rock, his Mithril longsword, glowing with a yellow light, shattering the giant puppet’s head. However, the puppet quickly grew a new, rudimentary head. What’s more, by absorbing the black ooze crawling toward it, it was growing larger and larger. The tentacles it extended were becoming thicker, and the rate at which earth turned to rock was accelerating, even showing signs of crystallization.

No wonder two squads of Sacred Warriors were helpless against them. No one dared to step on or get close to the black gelatinous substance on the ground. If they were entangled by it, the giant puppet could walk over and smash them to a pulp with a single punch. The dark red soil and fragments of leather armor in two deep pits were proof of this.

The priests’ Sacred Flame Art was also ineffective against the giant puppet. Solariven saw two battle priests and the resident priest, McCann, being chased all over the place by the smaller puppets.

This made Solariven wonder. The Legendary Wizard’s puppets were only targeting Sacred Warriors, Paladins, and priests. When the manor’s militia struck them with heavy hammers, the puppets ignored them.

If the Wizard behind the puppets wanted to take something from the manor, with the giant puppet’s power, no one could stop it. And if the Wizard held a personal grudge against the Boltok family, there was no reason for his puppets to relentlessly pursue the clergy while ignoring the Baroness and the manor guards.

Assuming this was a trap set by the Baselius family, they were underestimating the intelligence of Solariven and Dister. There were still over one hundred Sacred Warriors in the Church, led by a rank 5 priest, four Adjudicators, and a Silver-rank Paladin, all protecting Princess Elizabeth.

How many Legendary Wizards could the Baselius family possibly have? Could it be that Auroxia would dare to openly attack the Church in Watertide Town?

Regardless, while the Legendary Wizard was powerful, in Solariven’s eyes, he was already a dead man.

Bizarre abilities and a frail body were common traits of Wizards. No matter how tough the giant puppet was, Solariven only needed to kill the Wizard casting the spell from behind the scenes. In fact, a Legendary Wizard’s vigor had its limits. His puppets were too clumsy to deal with the Sacred Warriors. If the battle dragged on, the Legendary Wizard would have no choice but to retreat.

Solariven didn’t want to waste time. He was worried this was a trap to lure him away from the main force. He had to quickly deal with the hidden Wizard and return to the Church in Watertide Town as soon as possible.

The Gold-rank Stormwind Paladin circled the outskirts of the lord’s manor, using his elemental perception to search for the Wizard’s location. A High-ranked Knight in a state of Semi-elementalization was immune to most Mental Wizardry. A High-ranked Paladin’s resistance to Mental Wizardry was even greater, practically an immunity.

Aside from Mental Wizardry, a Wizard’s other methods couldn’t touch a High-ranked Paladin whose mind and body were one. This giant puppet, for example, was immensely powerful and could topple a sturdy limestone castle, yet it was helpless against the Silver Paladin on its body.

Once he found the caster, killing him would be no more difficult for Solariven than killing a chicken.

However, he circled several times, expanding his search radius to thirty kilometers, but still couldn’t perceive the fire element disturbance caused by a Wizard’s casting.

“Damn it, I’ve been tricked!”

Solariven turned and ran toward the lord’s manor, rushing straight for the giant puppet. “Belto, get down!” he shouted. “The Wizard is hiding inside this puppet!”

The Paladin from the Inquisition leaped off the puppet’s shoulder. He slashed a platinum-gold arc with his sword in mid-air, severing a coiling black tentacle, and landed on the ground. “Your Highness, be careful!” he yelled. “This puppet has a slowing force field with a radius of over thirty meters! I can resist it, but you can’t!”

An indigo stream of light hit the giant puppet’s chest. A howling gale swept through, sending large chunks of rock and earth flying. Solariven raised his Mithril warbow and fired another arrow, saying coldly, “Evildoer, let’s see how many of my arrows you can endure.”

The black ooze writhed. The rock and earth that formed the body twisted structurally, and the giant puppet turned to face Solariven without moving from its spot. Its frame was still massive. The black tentacles on its shoulders intertwined and fused, forming a head. It spoke in a rumbling voice, “Vicious lackeys, you hypocritical sinners, why don’t you go back to Watertide Town and have a look? My companion has already impaled that damned bishop-priest on a stake!”

Solariven remained unmoved. “I’ll go back after I’ve dug you out of that disgusting mud.”

“Then try it! Let’s see if you dig me out, or if I crush you filthy, vicious vermin one by one!”

The giant puppet threw its head back and roared. Black and red Wizardry runes appeared, intertwining. The smaller puppets all abandoned their targets and turned to run toward the giant one.

“Intercept them as best you can! Don’t let it recover its power!”

The battle instantly reached a fever pitch. The clergy and manor guards desperately smashed the small puppets, which were only focused on moving, to slow the rate at which the black ooze converged on the giant puppet. Solariven fired streams of indigo light, the sharp void wind element carving into the giant puppet’s body. The tough black ooze, which was hard to cut even with swords, was constantly severed, only to constantly merge back into the puppet’s body.

Boom!

A powerful shockwave emanated from the giant puppet’s feet, making the earth buckle, toppling trees and flowers, and cracking stone walls. The Sacred Warriors staggered, and most of the ordinary manor guards fell, spitting blood, unable to get up for a long time.

The giant puppet began to stride out of the manor without even turning around, ignoring even the black ooze from the smaller puppets that were converging on it.

“He’s trying to escape! Your Highness, keep attacking, don’t worry about me!”

The unscathed Silver Paladin chased after the giant puppet, attacking relentlessly. The light of his Sacred Sword Art rose and fell, slashing at its legs, severing rock and black tentacles. The Stormwind Paladin’s arrows shone with indigo light, striking its shoulders and back. The void wind element carved deep gashes, causing rocks and earth to fall away.

The puppet was simply too massive, and the damage caused by the two High-ranked Paladins couldn’t destroy it immediately. The Sacred Warriors and young Paladins, fearing the puppet’s slowing force field and tough tentacles, stopped their pursuit. They split up to deal with the smaller puppets behind them and to aid the injured manor guards. The two battle priests, protected by several Sacred Warriors, followed behind the puppet, providing divine art support for the High-ranked Paladins. Once they dug the Wizard out of the puppet’s body, the priests’ Sacred Flame Art would be useful.

The Wizard’s giant puppet was incredibly resilient and could draw earth from the ground to replenish its body. After pursuing it for several kilometers, Solariven and Belto finally destroyed it completely.

The rocks and earth crumbled and fell away. The black, gelatinous substance, which had been like muscular pythons, lost its vitality and turned into black slime, revealing a crystallized, humanoid object.

“He’s dead? I can feel our Lord’s Divine Favor… But, a Wizard this powerful died just like that?” Belto Trigovar dragged the crystal figure out of the black mud and said in disbelief.

“He overused his Wizardry, and his body underwent complete elementalization,” Solariven said, his face grim as he examined the crystalline remains.

This Wizard was no ignorant Wild Wizard. He had received professional training in Wizardry. His abilities were devastating, capable of sweeping battlefields and destroying fortresses and castles. He was only suppressed to death because he encountered agile and powerful High-ranked Paladins and lacked any support.

This was basically a suicide mission!

How could the Baselius family sacrifice such a precious extraordinary power? Was he truly driven mad by a Whisperer?

“What about the Wizard you were chasing earlier?” Solariven asked.

Belto replied, “We chased him to a cliff, and he escaped. I received the messenger raven’s message and led my men to reinforce the lord’s manor, so I didn’t have time to search for the Wizard.”

Solariven pulled his gaze away from the fractured ground, glanced at the setting sun, and said with a heavy heart, “I’m heading back to Watertide Town first. You all get there as quickly as you can.”

Chapter 693: The Missing Princess (Part 2)

Not long after Solariven left, a thin layer of mist rose over Watertide Town, one that even the brilliant sunlight could not dispel. The mist seemed to have a life of its own, growing and coalescing at a visible rate into dense, viscous clumps that drifted toward the town’s Keep.

This strange, unnatural phenomenon caused a panic among the townspeople. A great flood of people poured from all corners of the town toward the central Church. The residents came both to report the abnormality to the priests and to seek the Church’s protection. They packed the square in front of the Church, their arguments, cries, and pleas eventually turning into a unified prayer.

“My lord Dister, what do we do next?” asked Claudia Relgarrel, a woman of lovely features and a graceful figure, in a soft voice.

In Solariven Testier’s absence, this Silver-rank female Paladin was the strongest in their group and should have been the one to take control of the situation. However, a priest could save lives, and even a powerful Paladin had to show respect to a priest.

Dister glanced back. The atmosphere inside the prayer hall was somber and heavy. Even the usually willful Elizabeth was now meekly accepting the protection of a dozen Sacred Warriors.

The Sasan Bishop, known for his meticulous mind, found himself in a dilemma.

The strange mist had completely enveloped Watertide Town’s Keep, separating it from the outside world like a curtain. Not a single sound escaped. Although everyone in the castle had managed to flee to safety, the mysterious mist was enough to indicate the presence of a third Wizard nearby—and his, or rather their, target was the Bostok family.

At this moment, Dister would have preferred the mist to be shrouding the Church, for the Wizards’ target to be Her Highness Elizabeth Frederick.

Three Wizards acting together could be called an organization of extraordinary beings, and there was even a Legendary-rank spellcaster among them. Was the tiny Bostok family truly worthy of their attention? So much so that the Legendary spellcaster would not hesitate to sacrifice his life, willingly acting as bait to lure the Gold Paladin away from Watertide Town, all to buy time for his companions to invade the castle?

Even the Archwizards of old required the close protection of High-ranked Knights. But this was no longer the Era of the Chosen; no Wizard could borrow the power of the Elemental Sea anymore. Facing the pursuit of a Stormwind Paladin, it was highly unlikely they could escape.

That was right. That Legendary-rank Wizard was a dead man. If he were a Wizard in a lord’s service, he would never dare provoke the authority of a Gold Paladin—unless he was on the verge of death or had already gone mad, driven to insanity by the temptation of Devils.

To most people, Devils only existed in ancient legends, and the Church had always regarded them as the antithesis of the Supreme Lord. If Devils had bewitched a Wizard to attack the lord of Watertide Town in pursuit of some item, this would no longer be a matter of political alignment, but one that concerned the very core of the clergy’s faith.

When Devils were involved, the struggle for the Sasan Empire’s throne and Elizabeth’s life and death became trivial matters. Dister’s heart naturally wished to thwart the evil Wizard’s plot at any cost, but reasoning from a rational perspective, it was highly likely that this was a meticulously planned trap.

“Claudia, I ask you to take full command of the situation until His Highness Solariven returns. I will obey your orders in my capacity as a rank-five priest, and I will bear all consequences in the name of a Cardinal!” Dister declared solemnly.

It was standard practice for the Church’s priests to entrust the most difficult and urgent problems to an extraordinary-rank Paladin for a decision. Without hesitation, Claudia accepted command of the scene and quickly issued her orders:

“Ring the church’s alarm bell, officially declaring the arrival of an Evildoer. Release the messenger ravens and request support from Watertide Town’s superior Bishop.”

“The Temple Army scout squad will immediately lead the Church attendants to disperse the crowd in the central square. They will also contact the Watertide Town Magistrate’s Office to enforce martial law, requiring all residents to stay in their homes with doors and windows shut and not to go outside. Those who disobey will be killed on the spot!”

“Send three Sacred Warriors to find Baron Bostok’s youngest son and daughter and bring them to the city walls. Upon the signal of the alarm bell, you are to lead Watertide Town’s City Defense Garrison to support the Church if necessary.”

Claudia drew her longsword and addressed the clergy below the steps, “The Church is sacred ground, not to be defiled by Evildoers. We swear to defend the Church and protect the Holy Light of the Supreme Lord!”

The most dangerous place at the moment was undoubtedly the mist-shrouded castle. Claudia had only sent three Sacred Warriors to investigate, clearly preparing to make a stand at the Church and wait for reinforcements, biding her time until Solariven returned to Watertide Town before making any further plans. However, her mobilization, combined with the spiritual power of a High-ranked Knight, greatly boosted the morale of the clergy present. The psychological burden of passive avoidance vanished without a trace, and there were no negative repercussions of wavering faith.

Watching Claudia Relgarrel command with such calm confidence, Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled with a peculiar light, her determination to become a Paladin growing even firmer.

The Sacred Warriors moved quickly, obeying Claudia’s orders. They dispersed the crowd in the square to prevent anyone with ill intentions from sneaking into the Church. The soldiers from the Magistrate’s Office conscripted the local gang enforcers to help the Sacred Warriors enforce the martial law. Watertide Town’s residents all returned to their homes, closed their doors and windows, and prayed silently. The once-bustling streets soon became deserted. Fully armed Sacred Warriors fanned out across the central square in front of the Church, on high alert. A grim and tense atmosphere arose.

On the steps before the great doors of the Church, Elizabeth’s small face was tense. She whispered to the Paladin beside her, “Auntie Claudia, I… Ouch.”

Before she could finish, her head was rapped by a knuckle. Claudia chided playfully, “Call me sister.”

“I was just nervous, wasn’t I?” Elizabeth shrank back, pouting her lips in a wronged expression. Then she straightened her back, her eyes shining brightly as she said, “Sister Claudia, what should I do?”

Claudia ruffled her reddish-brown hair, then turned to Bishop Dister. “My lord, prioritize protecting Elizabeth. If necessary, you may take her and flee the battlefield.”

Dister’s heart sank. He pressed, “What? Is Elizabeth the Evildoer’s target?”

Claudia’s gaze shifted to the drainage ditch across the square. A confident smile touched her lips as she said, “I’m not sure, but they’re already here.”

The ground where the ditch met the square began to bulge into mounds. Even the hard limestone tiles could not stop whatever was underground. Many humanoid monsters began to crawl out from beneath the cracked flagstones.

They were lean and wiry, their bodies composed of writhing black gelatinous substance and parts of metal armor. Their arms ended in a pair of sword blades that shimmered with a purple light under the sun. Their helmet-covered heads had no human facial features; instead, a massive single eye-like outline took up nearly two-thirds of their faces, appearing both bizarre and terrifying.

As soon as these humanoid metal puppets climbed out of the ground, they began to close in on the central square. Elizabeth counted them carefully and found thirty-five puppets.

To be able to break through the limestone ground, their strength must be comparable to a Bronze-rank Knight. Their speed remains to be seen… Could that large eye be their weak point? But it has no pupil, it’s just a shape… Elizabeth mused silently.

When facing an unknown enemy, under relatively safe conditions, one must first be as cautious and observant as a spotted tiger. This wasn’t cowardice; it was the prerequisite for ferocity.

Elizabeth remembered her Paladin Instructor’s words well; she was the most outstanding Paladin-in-training, and her scores in every assessment far surpassed her peers.

Boom! With a tremendous crash, the limestone flagstones in the center of the square shattered and flew outwards. Amidst the violent blast of air, a tall figure leaped from underground into the air. As the Sacred Warriors scrambled in alarm to dodge the flying stones, it smashed down hard into the middle of a group of them.

Claudia’s eyes flashed green. With a sharp cry, she hurled a Mithril javelin shimmering with green light towards the monster in mid-air. She had been prepared. The javelin shot out like a streak of light, accurately piercing the monster’s head. Void water elements enveloped its head, corroding it as frost spread, a deep chill radiating out.

However, the monster seemed completely unaffected. It landed heavily on the ground, cracking the stone tiles in a spiderweb pattern and sending the nearby Sacred Warriors flying with the shockwave. The heavy weapon in its hand swung out in a ferocious Leaping Slash, cleaving an initial-rank Sacred Warrior who had used the Sacred Armor Art in two.

Immediately after, the weapon swept horizontally, tracing a sharp, crescent-moon arc of light. But the remaining Sacred Warriors used their footwork, dodging and leaping to avoid the monster’s fierce attack, quickly retreating over ten meters away.

This monster, which had launched its surprise attack from underground, shook its head, the javelin still embedded in it, seemingly dissatisfied with its recent performance. The black gel on its body roiled and writhed, absorbing the frost that had spread to its arm. It flexed its newly freed arm and turned toward the church steps to face Claudia and Bishop Dister.

A black gelatinous tentacle extended from its back and plucked the Mithril javelin from its head. Its writhing face formed a single eye and a mouth.

Only then did Elizabeth get a clear view of the monster, and she almost cried out in alarm.

It stood a full two and a half meters tall, its brawny body composed of the black gelatinous substance. The black gel was like tough, thin vines, tightly wound into muscles and sinew. The gel on its shoulders, chest, arms, and legs showed signs of crystallization, with clusters of yellow-green crystals sprouting in some areas. It looked indestructible, like a crab’s shell, protecting its vitals and supporting its body. Its black hand was connected to a giant axe also made of yellow-green crystal and black gel. The blood of a Sacred Warrior was dripping from the smooth crystal axe blade, a grim and savage sight.

“Your Excellency, who are you?” Claudia asked, her voice clear and melodious.

The monster was visibly taken aback. Its mouth opened and closed, and it mumbled in a hoarse voice like a broken bellows, “Who am I? Let me think, who am I… I am Vandel… No, I’m not him. I am a villager from Cow Hoof Village. My father, my mother, my brother and sisters… My family is all dead. They were… They were by?”

Seeing the monster’s mind fall into chaos, Claudia rejoiced inwardly. She had sensed the monster awakening underground beforehand and had deliberately kept quiet, preparing to catch it off guard. To her surprise, her full-powered attack with void water elements had failed to kill the monster. Although it had caused a freezing effect, the result was not as satisfactory as she had hoped.

This monster is difficult to kill, and I still need to get more intelligence from it… I should stall for as long as possible, wait for His Highness Testier to return, and ideally, capture it… Claudia quickly made her judgment and immediately changed the subject, preventing the monster from remembering who it was.

“The armor and longswords on these puppets of yours are made of Adamantine. Can you tell me, Your Excellency, how you obtained this Adamantine equipment?” The female Paladin’s pleasant voice was filled with curiosity, making it impossible not to wonder about the source of the Adamantine.

However, the monster seemed not to have heard her, completely absorbed in figuring out who it was. This seemed to be a very important matter to it.

“I… am from Cow Hoof Village. My parents are dead, my brother and sister are dead. They were impaled on wooden stakes and hung at the village entrance… Who did this? Who did it?!”

The monster’s mumbling grew clearer, turning from hoarse to distinct. Claudia’s expression turned grave as she gestured for the Sacred Warriors to heighten their alert and prepare for battle.

“It was the vicious jackals of the Church… the Sacred Warriors of the Inquisition. They killed my family. The blood of innocents covered the ground… Hatred, a blood feud…”

The hollow, ethereal voice seemed to be infused with a soul, pressing down on everyone’s mind, making them almost see a scene of dripping blood and the blazing fires of vengeance.

“I remember now. I am Barkley, an ordinary farmer, a soul of vengeance.” A metallic voice echoed through Watertide Town. The giant monster’s single eye glowed with a blood-red light, and the single eyes of the humanoid puppets made of Adamantine and black gel simultaneously bloomed with a dark red light.

“The blood of innocents must be repaid with the blood of hypocrites! Die, you hypocritical servants of the Lord of Radiance!”

Tendrils of black gel erupted from the monster’s body like wildly dancing vines. It leaped violently, hurtling toward Bishop Dister on the church steps.

The battle erupted in an instant. The thirty-some humanoid puppets charged toward the great doors of the Church at astonishing speed, only to be intercepted by the Sacred Warriors. The two sides clashed, but the one who initiated the fight was not the black gel monster, but Claudia.

The female Paladin, clad in Dragon-Lizard hide armor, swept down the steps. Her posture was graceful, as light as a startled swan. Before the monster could leap into the air, the two Mithril longswords in her hands instantly slashed across its legs, arms, neck, and shoulders. The dazzling platinum-gold sword-light merged into one, and a green mist of light rose from it.

The Sacred Sword Art and the void water element intertwined, shrouding the monster like a silver-stamen, green-petaled flower.

“What an exquisite Consecutive Cross Slash!” Elizabeth exclaimed loudly, her hand on her sword hilt.

Claudia’s brow furrowed, feeling no joy at all. Her Mithril longswords, enhanced by the Sacred Sword Art, met heavy resistance when they cut into the monster. The black gel was exceptionally tough, and the parts that were cut instantly melded back together, failing to inflict any effective damage. It continued its leap toward Bishop Dister on the steps.

Two Adjudicators flanked Elizabeth and dodged aside, leaving Dister completely exposed.

Boom!

The steps, decorated with white-glazed rock, shattered and collapsed. The monster’s giant axe gouged a terrifying gash where the priest had been standing, but it had missed its target, cleaving only through a red robe.

“The Wizard’s target is actually me?”

At that critical moment, Bishop Dister tore off his red robe, revealing the hide armor underneath. He dodged the monster’s Leaping Slash with nimble footwork and circled behind it. His Adamantine scepter, wreathed in runes, struck the monster’s lower back.

Smite Evil!

This was a divine art unique to Sixth-level Sacred Warriors, capable of shaking the mind with holy power, disrupting elemental circulation, and countering all Wizardry and the elemental manifestations of High-ranked Knights.

Dister was no Sacred Warrior; he had activated a Holy Crystal left behind by a Sixth-level Sacred Warrior, temporarily gaining the combat experience and all the divine arts of a Sacred Warrior.

The giant axe swept toward him, the air shrieking, a piercing yellow stream of light chasing the Bishop’s figure.

How could Smite Evil be ineffective?!

Dister cast the Divine Art of the Fire of the Mind, perfectly synchronized with the power amplification of the Sacred Warrior Crystal. His mind and body became one as he evaded the monster’s relentless pursuit.

Two lines of platinum-gold fire successively struck the massive yet agile monster. It was the Sacred Flame Art, cast by a battle priest, capable of burning the soul and magical power, reflecting the damage back to the Wizard himself.

The monster did not, as expected, turn into a blazing torch. The platinum-gold flames were directly absorbed into the black gel.

Still ineffective!

Two Adjudicators joined the fight, helping Dister deal with the monster.

Claudia switched to a two-handed heavy hammer, cut into the battlefield, and forced the monster back with exquisite combat techniques. She said to Dister, who had a moment to catch his breath, “My lord, this monster can’t be killed. Take Elizabeth and leave through the back door of the Church. Get out of Watertide Town. I’ll hold it off.”

“No! Its target is me. I’ll keep it busy. You go and help the Sacred Warriors deal with those puppets! Have the battle priests take a squad of Sacred Warriors to protect Elizabeth and evacuate Watertide Town. I’m worried this Wizard has other evil tricks hidden beneath the church square!”

The Sacred Warriors’ situation was already dire. They were the elites of the Temple Army, and they had the numerical advantage, but the humanoid puppets also couldn’t be killed. Most terrifying of all, their martial skills were exquisite, and the combat techniques they used were as if from the same mold as the Sacred Warriors themselves, reaching the level of mid-rank Sacred Warriors.

Under the puppets’ relentless, damage-ignoring assault, the Sacred Warriors formed a defensive formation, but many of them were still killed by the puppets’ dual blades.

Without hesitation, Claudia charged toward a metal humanoid puppet. One slash of her sword cut it in two. Frost covered it, elements corroded it, and the black gel writhed and twisted, but it still turned into frozen sludge.

Her attacks were effective against the metal puppets, but the cost in Aura and holy power was just as high.

“The blood debt of the innocents must be repaid!”

The monster roared loudly, abandoning Dister and the Adjudicators, and turned to charge the Sacred Warriors who had just gotten a moment of respite. It ignored Dister’s attacks from behind and cleaved two low-rank Sacred Warriors who couldn’t dodge in time with its giant axe.

“Run! Don’t fight it head-on! Adopt guerrilla tactics!” an Adjudicator shouted as he tried to interfere with the monster’s attacks.

“The blood of hypocrites shall be spilled!”

Numerous black gelatinous tentacles shot out from beneath the broken flagstones, wrapping around the ankles of several Sacred Warriors. The monster leaped over a dozen meters, and its yellow-green crystal cluster axe hacked them to death.

The battle devolved into a slaughter competition. Claudia, Dister, and the Adjudicator Sacred Warriors turned to eliminate the humanoid metal puppets, while the monster focused on hacking down the clergy who were restrained by the black gel.

The central square before the Church became a river of blood. When the last humanoid puppet was destroyed by Claudia, only Bishop Dister and one Adjudicator remained on the battlefield. The rest had either been killed by the monster or had fled the central square with Princess Elizabeth Frederick.

“Evil Wizard, offspring of a Devil, how much longer can your Wizardry last?” Claudia asked leisurely, picking up a blood-stained flail and standing in the corpse-strewn square.

“Look, everyone, come out and look! This is the feast of blood brought by the Soul of Vengeance!” the monster shouted towards the silent streets, then laughed. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“What doesn’t matter anymore?” Claudia swung the flail, her delicate war boots stepping through pools of blood as she advanced alone.

At this point, the monster had absorbed the black gelatinous tentacles it had summoned. Its body became even taller and stronger, and three thick, black, vine-like tendrils grew from its back, brandishing heavy weapons like a two-handed hammer and a one-handed halberd, which danced wildly in the air.

It looked extremely difficult to deal with.

The transfer effect of the Sacred Warrior Crystal had ended, and Bishop Dister had lost his powerful close-combat abilities. All Claudia had to do now was stall for time until Solariven returned.

The Gold-rank Stormwind Paladin was not far from Watertide Town; she could feel it.

Suddenly, a change occurred!

A shadow, untouched by the twilight sun, stirred. Dister and the two Adjudicators suddenly went rigid, their eyes rolling back in their heads as they collapsed limply to the ground.

There’s an accomplice! Another Legendary-rank Wizard?!

Claudia’s figure flickered, and she shot off at full speed toward the outskirts of the city.

The new Wizard was hidden in the shadows, their method of attack bizarre and unpredictable, something even her elemental perception had failed to detect. To stay would be certain death. She had to rendezvous with Solariven first.

The tall monster did not pursue the fleeing Paladin. A dark, blurry figure blocked its path.

“You are… Shadow. We met at noon,” the monster said after a moment’s thought, almost to itself.

The Shadow Knight was silent for a moment before speaking, “It seems you didn’t follow the plan to kill the noblewoman from the Trigoval family.”

“The noblewoman from the Trigoval family?” The monster looked confused again. It thought for a moment, then shook its head. “It doesn’t matter. This place is soaked in the blood of vicious jackals. I did it. Good, very good…”

The Shadow Knight saw the monster’s single eye staring at the collapsed Bishop Dister and the Adjudicators on the ground. He smiled. “They’re not dead. But Your Excellency the Spiritbinder is already dead. Why are you still alive?”

A black gelatinous tentacle, thick as a vine and wrapped around a heavy hammer, shot towards the unconscious priest, but it snapped midway. The hammer fell to the ground with a dull thud, and the severed tendril twitched a few times before rapidly withering into foul-smelling sludge.

“You won’t attack me; you only kill clergy. Answer my question, and I can let you have your wish,” the Shadow Knight said calmly, sheathing his longsword.

The monster pondered for a moment. The tentacles on its back waved, and it spoke with enthusiasm, “The Spiritbinder is dead, his soul has dispersed. Why am I still alive… I’ve thought of it! It’s a new spell I researched, based on the Advent Spell. I inscribed my strongest emotions and will into a Sacred Warrior Crystal, and also inscribed my innate Wizardry’s spell model, to imitate a soul. That’s why the Soul of Vengeance is alive.”

The Shadow Knight seemed to have an epiphany. “No wonder Smite Evil and Sacred Flame Art were ineffective against you. Your imitation soul core is a Sacred Warrior Crystal based on holy power. What a genius concept.”

“Researching Wizardry is what I enjoy,” the monster said proudly.

The Shadow Knight nodded, praising, “The Council President has a very high opinion of the Spiritbinder Wizard. According to him, the Advent Spell and the secret art of the Shadow Warrior were both primarily completed by the Spiritbinder. He provided Your Excellency the Spiritbinder with many Sacred Warrior Crystals, one of which belonged to the Fifth-level Sacred Warrior Vandel. That crystal should be the soul core of this shell of yours.”

He glanced at the puppet wreckage all around and said playfully, “It seems you took the opportunity to embezzle quite a few Sacred Warrior Crystals.”

The monster didn’t react to this topic. The red light in its single eye flickered repeatedly as it said impatiently, “Get out of my way. I need to kill them.”

“Answer one more question for me, and I’ll get out of your way,” the Shadow Knight asked. “The Council President tricked the priests of the Holy Mountain Monastery into giving him a fragmented secret art of the Shadow Warrior. Its spell principles and the Sacred Warrior Crystals both originated from the ancient Council of the Chosen. This is a very profound and complex spell, transcending the general meaning of a spell model, touching upon the secrets of the soul… I don’t believe that Your Excellency the Spiritbinder, relying on a fragmented legacy, could have independently completed the Advent Spell and the creation of Shadow Warriors, and even taken it a step further to create an immortal puppet of Legendary combat power… There must have been a brilliant Wizard helping you. Tell me, who is he?”

“The secrets of the soul? Yes, the soul is composed of a Soul Fire and the Will Side. Imitating a soul can grant life to a puppet. This is a great magical achievement…” The monster began to ramble incoherently again about the magic it loved.

The Shadow Knight was willing to listen to the Spiritbinder Wizard’s research findings, but there wasn’t enough time. Solariven’s sharp presence had already reached the edge of the city, and the monster’s imitation soul was about to be extinguished. It was truly dying.

“Tell me, who was the Wizard who studied soul magic with you?” the Shadow Knight demanded.

“Who is he? He is… there is no he. It is a she, and also a he… Her name is ‘Andrew’…”

Andrew?!

The Shadow Knight was shocked. The name reminded him of the main culprit of the War of the Chosen, the Council’s first Archwizard to perform a Blood Sacrifice to the Devils—Andrew.

“Shadow, get out of my way!”

The monster lost its patience. The black gelatinous tentacles on its back whipped wildly, cracking the air with explosive sounds. The Shadow Knight stepped aside. As the monster passed, his pitch-black, lightless hand, like a sharp sword, easily pierced through the tough black gel and pulled a dark red crystal from its back.

The powerful puppet instantly went limp. The writhing black gel lost its vitality and finally withered into a pile of foul-smelling sludge.

“I forgot to tell you, I am also a Paladin of the Supreme Lord. I wield the holy power of Shadow, which happens to counter the Radiant holy power of your soul core.”

“…Wizards are all madmen.” The Shadow Knight glanced around the惨烈 scene, sighed, and pocketed the puppet’s soul crystal.

The soul crystals of the smaller puppets had already dissipated. If this crystal were left for Testier, who was about to arrive, it would invite great trouble.

“Elizabeth, you’re next.” The Shadow Knight silently melted into the surroundings.

Chapter 694: A Chance Encounter

In the depths of the Warton Great Plains, a group of more than thirty men, women, and children dressed as mercenaries followed the course of a shallow river westward, gathered around an ox-drawn sledge.

Like most mercenary companies, they traveled with their kith and kin, supporting the old and leading the young. Only seventeen of them were actually armed and equipped, and that was with the most common leather armor, bows and arrows, hide-covered round shields, and wooden-handled spears. Only a select few were outfitted with superior chainmail, leather plate, helmets, javelins, and longswords.

They were undoubtedly the core fighting force of this small mercenary company. The others were merely support, while the old and young with no combat ability served as hostages entrusted to the company’s employers.

A mercenary company without family members would find it difficult to gain an employer’s trust and would often be subjected to repeated inspections by outpost guards. Of course, this family-based structure was typical for mercenary companies; the banner registered at the various Churches was the most important expression of a company’s identity.

A short-horned ox pulled the sledge that carried all the small company’s worldly possessions. A flag was planted at the front of the sledge, on which a flaming lion was crudely depicted. Thus, they were called the Fire Lion Mercenary Company.

It was now late February in the Season of Earth. Spring was in full bloom, and an endless sea of green stretched to the horizon. The clear, shallow river was like a flawless jade ribbon winding between the grass and the sky. Small, purple lilac blossoms were scattered about like stars. While a single flower was unremarkable, together they formed a vast swathe that added a moving splash of color to the great spring plains, filling the fresh, humid air with a rich fragrance.

Large prairie rabbits and prairie gophers showed no fear of the mercenary company and their ox-drawn sledge, wary only of the goshawks circling in the sky. Apart from the half-grown children who excitedly chased the rabbits and gophers, even the few black-furred sentinel hounds ignored the prey right under their noses.

These fearless critters were simply too easy to catch; they were almost sick of eating them.

As they walked through the vibrant and beautiful Great Plains, the old men of the Fire Lion Mercenary Company were filled with worry. Though there was clean water, a variety of wild vegetables, and prey that could be caught with ease, it also meant there was no civilization nearby, no fortified place to rest, and that monsters and beasts would be roaming about.

The small Fire Lion Mercenary Company should not have been here. The old men in the group were all experienced mercenaries, and they couldn’t understand why Vice-Commander Theodore hadn’t persuaded Commander Octavia to take the route along the Whitewater Fortress line, detour through the Centaur Hills of Dodor, and then head north to the Ghost Forest pioneering outpost.

Although that route was a bit longer and required paying passage fees to the lord’s outposts, the risks along the journey were much smaller. It was unlike venturing deep into the Great Plains, where it was easy to get lost. The terrain was also exceptionally open, with no cover for miles around. If a Gnoll tribe were to spot them, escape would be difficult.

The old mercenaries only grumbled about Vice-Commander Theodore in private; they would never dare voice their opinions to Commander Octavia. That was because she was not only the commander of the Fire Lion Mercenary Company, but also a female Ranger registered with the Church, holding the status of a Knight-Noble.

In truth, the original commander of this mercenary company was Theodore. The most senior mercenaries had followed him for six years. It was said that Theodore had once been a core member of the Fire Lion Mercenary Company. After the old commander’s accidental death, he was ostracized by his companions. In a fit of anger, he took his wife Ruth, his sister Penny, and his brother-in-law Todd to follow the old commander’s granddaughter, Octavia, and establish a new company, but they still operated under the Fire Lion banner.

Octavia was not content to be just a female mercenary. She took the company’s savings and registered with the Church as a Ranger. She left for several years but failed to make a name for herself. Two months ago, at a church in the Dodor Kingdom, Theodore received a message from Octavia. She had become a female apprentice knight who had mastered Aura and was preparing to recruit followers to try her luck at the Ghost Forest pioneering outpost. Her message requested that the Fire Lion Mercenary Company, registered in her name, rendezvous with her.

And so, Theodore led his companions to the designated rendezvous point and met with Octavia and her three followers.

After several years apart, Miss Octavia had become even more beautiful. If not for her dark red hair, grey-green eyes, and faintly familiar features, the old mercenaries would not have dared to recognize her.

Regardless, Octavia was now a true Knight-Noble, so of course the Fire Lion Mercenary Company had to follow her.

However, this female Ranger and mercenary commander seemed a bit unreliable.

“That damn Watertide Town Magistrate’s Office! It wasn’t enough to kick us out of the tavern, they actually had to confiscate my carriage and draft horses… A bunch of honorless scoundrels, simply shameless!” Octavia walked at the very front of the group, grumbling incessantly.

It had been many days since she and the Fire Lion Mercenary Company had been driven out of the mercenary tavern by the Watertide Town magistrate. She hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but now that she was without a carriage, trudging slowly along behind a short-horned ox pulling a sledge, the more she thought about it, the more indignant she became.

In truth, the main reason was that they were out of money. After the Fire Lion Mercenary Company bought the short-horned ox and procured some supplies, Octavia had become a penniless commander. She couldn’t even afford the passage fees, so she could only chop down some trees to make a sledge and lead her pile of subordinates through the unpopulated wilderness.

When had Miss Octavia ever been so aggrieved? She had never had to manage money before, and the first time she was in charge of purchasing supplies, she was ruthlessly fleeced by a black-hearted merchant.

Of course, the commander and Ranger of the Fire Lion Mercenary Company would never admit that she had squandered the last of the company’s savings. All blame had to be placed on the Watertide Town Magistrate’s Office.

“The people at the Watertide Town Magistrate’s Office are all shameless bastards, scum even more disgusting than greenskins!”

Octavia the Ranger’s youngest follower, Penny, nodded in agreement, teaching her master how to curse like a mercenary.

“Hmm? Go on, go on… Penny, help me curse those bastards for all they’re worth.” Commander Viel’s eyes lit up as she encouraged her follower to use coarse language.

Penny, feeling greatly encouraged, let loose a torrent of slang, profanity, and witticisms from her little mouth, verbally thrashing the Watertide Town magistrate, the tavern owner, the black-hearted merchant, and even the tavern waiters and cooks, without repeating a single insult.

Grand Commander Viel beamed with delight, clapping and cheering. Her happy mood even drew the usually stoic Theodore and his wife into the fray of insults.

The members at the back of the group heard their commander’s bell-like laughter and thought she had come up with something to be happy about.

To be this happy just from learning to curse—this was the true Octavia, commander of the Fire Lion Mercenary Company and female Ranger.

Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks. Todd, the Fire Lion Mercenary Company’s forward scout, ran back from a distance with one of his men. Vice-Commander Theodore gestured to the rear, and the mercenaries immediately reined in the short-horned ox, called back the frolicking children, and took up their bows and crossbows in a defensive posture.

Todd ran up to them, his expression grave, and reported to Octavia in a low voice, “Commander, I found a stranded person up ahead. Looks like a young female Ranger.”

“A stranded person? There’s a stranded person in a place like this? And a female Ranger?” Grand Commander Viel was both surprised and excited. She hurried forward, not forgetting to give an order, “Have everyone stay here and remain on alert. We’ll go take a look.”

Two kilometers ahead, a young girl dressed as a mercenary was concealed under a cover of long grass. She was hidden rather well and could easily be overlooked by people or ordinary beasts. Only a Ferocious creature with keen Perception or a top-tier scout like Todd could have spotted her from a distance.

The young girl had short, brownish-red hair, pretty features, and a healthy, wheat-colored complexion. She wore a worn but well-maintained old leather armor and cowhide war boots. To her left lay a sheathed longsword, and to her right, a small crossbow. The edge of a cloak pressed beneath her revealed a longbow and two quivers. A bulging cowhide travel bag lay right next to the girl’s head.

At first glance, this short-haired girl looked like an ordinary mercenary. But for a lone young female mercenary to appear in the depths of the desolate plains, teeming with monsters and beasts, was unusual in itself, let alone the fact that she was lying unconscious in a pile of grass.

Beauty was the most direct external feature distinguishing a Knight-Noble from a commoner. However, there were many commoners of outstanding appearance. Trained from a young age as attendants and handmaidens in great families, their bearing and temperament would become very close to those of true nobles, making it difficult for the average person to tell the difference from appearance alone.

The Fire Lion Mercenary Company’s scout, Todd, was a Mystic Warrior meticulously trained by the Aerie Fortress Faceless. Not only had he ignited the fire of his mind and possessed the strength of an initial-rank Knight, but he had also mastered many useful skills. Distinguishing an extraordinary bloodline from an ordinary person was, of course, a required lesson for a Faceless Mystic Warrior.

To Todd’s eyes, the short-haired girl’s disguise was riddled with flaws. Just by looking at the nearly perfect proportions of her features and figure, Todd concluded that she was a noblewoman of a high and noble knightly lineage.

As for her wheat-colored skin, The Faceless had dozens of ways to change a noblewoman’s fair and lustrous complexion to that of a commoner.

Without exception, the Fire Lion mercenaries on scene hailed from the Aerie Fortress Faceless. Theodore’s wife, Ruth, was a top-tier physician and Potion Master. She stepped forward to check the girl’s condition and calmly stated, “Her breathing and heartbeat are steady. No signs of poison or injury. The reason for her deep sleep is unknown, but her eyes are constantly moving. She’s either having a nightmare or… a pleasant dream.”

“Her skin is delicate, firm, and smooth, which doesn’t match her complexion. She’s clearly used a potion to change her skin color…” Ruth released the girl’s wrist, bent down to take a gentle sniff, and furrowed her artfully trimmed, willow-like brows. “It’s strange… I don’t smell the acrid scent of insect repellent, yet there isn’t even an ant near her. And she’s been asleep for at least half a day without being attacked by hyenas or vultures.”

“I can sense a dangerous aura. It’s right around her body.”

Vice-Commander Theodore took over, his expression grave. “It seems to be a mark intentionally left by some kind of ferocious beast to protect its young.”

Theodore was a Ferocious Warrior who had ignited the fire of his mind, possessing strength comparable to an initial-rank Silver Knight. A dangerous aura that he could sense would not come from an ordinary ferocious beast or monster; it was highly likely to be a powerful existence of Gold rank or higher.

Everyone’s gaze turned to the team’s Chief Scout. Todd quickly raised his hand and said, “I guarantee there are no powerful monsters nearby. In fact, I had my men carefully search the area for tracks, and we found no footprints. I judge there are two possibilities. One, someone with a light body weight hid this stranded person in the grass a few days ago, and the tracks were erased by the growing grass. Or, the stranded person flew here…”

“It was definitely done by a person, not a monster or beastman,” Penny the assassin said, displaying the stranded person’s belongings. “Her weapons and equipment are all here, but I can’t find any family sigil to indicate her identity. Her bag contains journey rations, raw sugar, healing medicine, flint, and ox tendon rope. The items are packed very neatly and haven’t been touched, as if someone carefully prepared them for her. These things are enough for her to survive out here… if she doesn’t run into a beastman tribe, that is.”

“How should I put this… it’s like an exile. She was exiled to the depths of the Great Plains. If she hadn’t met us, she would have had to figure out how to survive on her own after waking up, and also find a way out of the Great Plains.”

“She could get out by following the shallow rivers on the plains,” Ruth said with a small smile.

“Actually, that’s very difficult,” scout Todd interjected, shaking his head. “The Worton River has many winding tributaries in the Great Plains. If I hadn’t memorized a topographical map of the main Worton channel beforehand, just following the widest channel by experience could very well lead us all into a large wetland. Trying to cross the swampy wetland to find the shallow river again would become extremely difficult. The wetland might even be the end of the tributary, with no exit channel at all.”

“For this noble stranded person to find a way out of the Great Plains on her own, if she’s lucky, she might make it out in a month. If she’s unlucky, she could be trapped for two or three years.”

Penny’s voice was crisp as she said, “The way I see it, she’d most likely die on the road if she just wanders around alone.”

Because of the need for water, a lone stranded person trying to find a way out of the unfamiliar Great Plains could only follow the river channels. They might encounter prairie nomads, or they might stumble into the lair of some monster colony. Unless one had the strength of a Silver Knight and could determine the direction to travel in a straight line, it would take two days and a night to leave the Great Plains.

This stranded girl had been abandoned in the depths of the Great Plains; she didn’t look like a Silver-rank female knight in any way.

Ruth thought for a moment and summarized, “For some reason, this child has been exiled to the Great Plains. The person who exiled her used extraordinary means—a method we don’t understand—to leave a dangerous aura to prevent intuitively sharp monsters and beasts from harming her while she’s unconscious. This person doesn’t want to kill her, nor do they want her to appear in public. But the most likely possibility is that he deliberately arranged for us to rescue her.”

Theodore looked around warily and shook his head in confusion. “Miss changed our route on the spur of the moment, choosing to go directly from the Great Plains to the Ghost Forest pioneering outpost. Who could have known our movements in advance, and even evaded Miss’s Perception? Could there be a spy in the company? But, those men have been with us for years, and we know every one of them inside and out. Anyone problematic was weeded out long ago. There shouldn’t be any traitors.”

Grand Commander Octavia’s thoughts were wandering at this moment, and she paid no heed to her follower’s concerns.

Unwilling to kill her, yet not wanting her to appear in public; carefully arranging an escape route for her, yet exiling her to the depths of the Great Plains… There’s a story here… The more Octavia thought about it, the more fun it seemed. She was secretly thrilled, almost dancing with glee. She walked over, lifted the girl’s eyelid, and her expression instantly changed, becoming one of contemplation and gravity.

Shimmering Eyes?! A descendant of Nachtigal, a noble Gold Bloodline?

If she just contacted Aerie Fortress, Grand Commander Viel could quickly find out this stranded person’s true identity and deduce the whole story. But she had already chosen her own Path. Unless the August family was in danger of annihilation, she would not take up her past identity and power again. As a Ranger living among the common folk, a stranded person was just a stranded person. A noble Gold Bloodline had nothing to do with her.

However, Viel was certain of one thing: even though she was now an obscure little Ranger, there were few people in this world who could arrange a chance encounter for her. Besides Sylvia, there was only the Force of Destiny.

“According to mercenary rules, what should we do when we encounter a stranded person?” Grand Commander Viel stood up and turned to ask her followers.

“The Church requires mercenaries to lend aid to any stranded person they encounter. Bringing her to any church would earn the praise of the resident priest, which has many benefits for a mercenary company. But… Miss, this is the wilderness.” Theodore answered but also gave a warning. He was clearly unwilling for his master to get involved in trouble, and was subtly suggesting they should leave the noble girl behind.

The female Ranger flicked her dark red ponytail, a mischievous smile on her face, and ordered, “Give her a Face-Altering Potion, then take her with us.”

Chapter 695: Micklemers’s Student

It seemed Elizabeth had been in a long dream, unable to distinguish reality from illusion. She remembered a battle priest and two Adjudicators leading a squad of Sacred Warriors, escorting her through the Church and out the back door of Watertide Town, away from that unkillable puppet monster.

They rode their Horned Wolves toward the nearest military stronghold—Whitewater Fortress. Not only were the Dodor Kingdom’s elite troops stationed there, but also the cathedral to which the Watertide Town Church answered. And Ludwig, the Dodor Kingdom’s Gold Knight, was also in Whitewater Fortress.

As the Horned Wolves crossed a mountain ridge, Elizabeth was suddenly struck by a wave of bone-chilling cold. She tried to circulate her Aura to resist the strange feeling in her body, but she only lasted a single breath before losing consciousness.

When she woke again, she was in pitch darkness, unable to see her hand in front of her face. Elizabeth panicked, but no one answered her shouts. Finally, unable to hold back, she hugged her knees and wept in the dark. Once she had calmed down a little, she drew her longsword, tears still in her eyes, and began to explore cautiously in the darkness. She tried her best to walk in a straight line, making marks on the ground with the tip of her sword.

She walked for a long time, but still encountered nothing but herself. Elizabeth sang the hymns she had learned over and over, trying to bolster her own courage and fight against the fear and Despair brought on by the darkness.

Finally, her throat grew hoarse, and the water in her flask was gone. She could only recite silently in her heart:

“When all is dark, only radiance endures.”

This was the creed of sacrifice for clergy facing a desperate plight. Elizabeth had known of it before, but had never truly understood it. In this endless darkness, she recited it again and again. Her heart gradually settled, her tears stopped flowing, and she began to contemplate the true meaning of the words:

When all is dark, where does the radiance come from?

And if there is radiance, where will it guide me?

When one ponders a question, an answer will emerge, first from the hope within the thinker’s heart. In the distance, beneath the black curtain, a magnificent and majestic building entered Elizabeth’s vision.

It had a tall bell tower and thick walls, and statues of various forms were arranged gracefully in the plaza before the steps. Although its towering, slender, and strange appearance was different from any other cathedral of radiance—with its pointed arches, ribbed vaults, and flying buttresses creating an architectural style full of mystery, sorrow, and sublimity—Elizabeth recognized it as a cathedral of radiance at a glance.

She quickly crossed the central plaza, which was filled with statues, pools, and gardens, and ascended the white-glazed rock steps. Elizabeth knocked on the great doors, which were adorned with exquisite patterns.

“Is anyone there?”

As her voice rang out, the tightly shut doors slowly swung open. Elizabeth entered without hesitation. Deep within the vast, towering great hall, an angel stood silently, outlined by lights of varying brightness and texture. He was so dazzlingly radiant that one could not look at him directly, yet he was also so pure and warm that he made one want to draw closer. The angel held a holy book in his left hand and a scepter in his right. Three pairs of holy, feathered wings covered nearly half of the great hall, bathing every object within it in a sacred, hazy glow.

“Micklemers!”

Elizabeth was overjoyed. She dropped the longsword she held before her chest, strode forward, knelt on one knee, and clasped her hands, pressing her ten interlocked fingers to her forehead as she praised, “Holy First Radiant Angel, Eye of Our Lord, embodiment of sanctity and wisdom, are you here to guide me?”

“What is sanctity?” Micklemers’s clear and indifferent voice fell upon Elizabeth’s ears.

Without thinking, the young woman replied according to the Paladin’s standard answer, “Sanctity is radiant, heroic, merciful, wise, and just.”

“The Trial begins… offspring of the King of Nightmares.”

As the voice faded, the First Radiant Angel swiftly dissipated, and the vast cathedral was plunged back into darkness. Elizabeth was stunned to find herself clad in battle armor, with a shield and a longsword in her hands. The environment around her seemed to have changed as well; the cathedral had inexplicably vanished. A faint light emanated from within her, illuminating a distance of five meters. The smooth floor beneath her feet had transformed into ground covered in pebbles.

A rustling sound came from the darkness, as if a monster was approaching. Elizabeth’s heart tightened. With no time to assess the change in her surroundings, she held her breath, circulated her Aura, raised her shield in front of her, and pointed the tip of her sword toward the source of the sound.

The moment Elizabeth raised her sword, the noise in the darkness suddenly stopped. The silent air concealed a bone-chilling killing intent, and the sense of danger was almost palpable.

A blurry shadow blinked into existence to Elizabeth’s left, in the blind spot of her sword. It swung its arm, causing the air to whistle. A sharp, cold presence shot straight for the girl’s neck, making the pores there constrict and her hairs stand on end.

The enemy had crept into Elizabeth’s blind spot and launched a ferocious surprise attack. Caught off guard, she instinctively swung her shield out, pivoted on the balls of her feet, and pushed off with her right leg. A flash of swordlight swept out in a Counter-Slash.

Defense within attack—a Counter-Slash.

The combat technique that Elizabeth had painstakingly practiced displayed its astonishing effect at this moment. There was no need to see, no need to think. The shield struck horizontally to defend, and the longsword slashed vertically to kill—simple, effective, and powerful.

Pfft.

Her suit of chainmail and hard leather inner armor were torn open by something, leaving a large gash. Elizabeth felt a coldness on her back, followed by the flow of blood, and then a sharp pain.

The enemy was too fast. It had dodged her shield sweep and longsword strike, leaving a deep wound on her back, but it had failed to slice open the vital point of her neck.

Elizabeth gritted her teeth, enduring the pain, and once again assumed a stance that was both offensive and defensive, facing the darkness.

The enemy’s attack came as expected. Elizabeth’s counterattack was once again ineffective, and another wound, deep enough to show bone, was added to her left leg.

A few minutes later, the stubborn girl was covered in blood and collapsed on the ground. The shield had shattered, but her hand still gripped the gleaming longsword tightly.

The black shadow slowly approached, and only then did Elizabeth get a clear look at her opponent. It was a giant, upright wolf. Although it had the head of a wolf, it was clearly different from the hyena-like, hunchbacked Gnolls. It had a well-proportioned body, stood 2.3 meters tall, and had dark fur. Its body looked lean, but its muscles were exceptionally well-defined, as if it were brimming with explosive power and extreme agility. Its hands were like a human’s, with five fingers tipped with sharp claws that were already stained red with blood. Its eyes, as dark as night, seemed to possess a mysterious, extraordinary power.

As Elizabeth stared into the black werewolf’s eyes, she felt a shudder that came from her very soul, as if she had fallen into the most terrifying Nightmare, her heart snared by a rope of fear. She wanted to wake up, but she couldn’t even move a finger.

As the nightmarish monster drew closer, the light around Elizabeth dimmed and faded, flickering like a candle in a cold wind, as if it would be extinguished in the next second. Yet, the faint glow steadfastly held its ground.

The girl kept chanting in her heart:

“When all is dark, only radiance endures… When all is dark, only radiance endures.”

The monster could not advance another inch. A human-like expression of confusion appeared on its face, as if wondering why this weak prey refused to give up. But in the next second, its eyes lit up with a cruel, bloodthirsty red glow, and it raised its sharp claws to deliver the fatal blow to its dying opponent.

“Trial passed.”

Light surged forth, and the darkness receded like a tide. The terrifying monster vanished into thin air, and the towering, empty cathedral hall reappeared. The Aura that had been suppressed by the Nightmare surged with power, and Elizabeth sprang two meters into the air from the floor. She was surprised to find that all her wounds had disappeared. Before she could even ask a question, the great angel Micklemers, formed of light, tapped her on the forehead. Suddenly, three Holy Light runes and a set of unfamiliar martial skill Forging Methods appeared in her mind.

Elizabeth abruptly sat up. She saw a verdant meadow, and the sweet fragrance of flowers and grass rushed into her nose, making her sneeze violently.

Two small, curious faces were sprayed with saliva. Three pairs of eyes stared blankly at each other for a moment, followed by the shrieks of two children.

“She’s awake! The stranded person is awake.”

Only then did Elizabeth realize she was lying on an ox-drawn sledge, surrounded by a group of armed people. Seeing them gather around, Elizabeth, unsure of the situation, reached for the longsword at her waist, but her hand found nothing. She tried to circulate her Aura and leap off the sledge, but a wave of dizziness washed over her, and she lay back down, powerless.

Aura depleted… Elizabeth was no stranger to this state of weakness; she had undergone training for this with the Testier family. She only wondered why her Aura was depleted.

Were the cathedral, the First Radiant Angel, and the black werewolf just a dream?

“Don’t move. You’ve been unconscious for at least two days. You’re very weak. It’s best if you keep lying down.” A slightly hoarse but magnetic female voice interrupted Elizabeth’s thoughts, pulling her from her dazed and confused state back to reality.

A young woman in a suit of chainmail pushed through the surrounding people and approached. She was tall and well-proportioned with fine features and dark red hair. Her high forehead complemented a straight nose, and her slightly dark complexion gave her an impression of strength and wisdom. But her grayish-green eyes were clear and lively, filled with a hint of a smile that made her seem innocent and friendly.

Elizabeth saw that the woman was holding a sheathed longsword and stammered, “That’s my sword.”

“It’s mine now.” The red-haired woman hid the longsword behind her back and eyed Elizabeth warily, then asked with a smile, “What’s your name? How old are you? Why were you stranded? What mercenary company are you from? What skills do you have?”

The string of questions left Elizabeth dazed again. She was stunned for a moment, then discreetly rolled her eyes and asked “weakly,” “Where is this? Who are you people? Why… why am I here?”

“This is the Warton Great Plains… We’re the Fire Lion Mercenary Company. I’m the Ranger, Octavia, and also the Grand Commander of the Fire Lion Mercenary Company.” The young woman tucked the longsword under her arm, crossed her arms, and said with an amused smile, “Little girl, I’ve answered your questions. Now it’s your turn to tell me, who are you? And why were you unconscious alone in the depths of the Warton Great Plains?”

This was the Warton Great Plains?

Elizabeth couldn’t figure out why she was here. She observed them secretly, somewhat believing that they were an ordinary mercenary company. The young woman who called herself Octavia was probably a non-naturally awakened apprentice knight. But in terms of strength and status, she was far inferior to Elizabeth. The stout man next to Octavia was powerfully built, with coordinated movements and a gaze that felt tangible, giving Elizabeth a faint sense of pressure. He was likely the strongest in this small mercenary company.

However, Elizabeth was confident that in her peak condition, she could easily defeat him. She was a senior apprentice knight, on the verge of advancing to the mid-rank Bronze Knight at any moment.

Having made her comparison of their respective strengths, Elizabeth got off the ox-drawn sledge and said with a condescending air, “I’m very grateful to Your Excellency for rescuing me, and I admire the noble character of the Fire Lion Mercenary Company in helping a stranded person. I’ll remember this goodwill, and when I have the chance in the future, I will surely give you a generous reward.”

She paused for a moment, then held out her hand and said, “I have to go now. Could you please return my sword to me?”

The mercenaries’ curious, wary, and friendly expressions instantly changed, becoming cold and tinged with disdain. Octavia frowned, tapped Elizabeth’s nose with the hilt of her sword, and chided, “Seeing as you’re a mercenary too, don’t you know the rules? Let me, Grand Commander Octavia, teach you today… when a mercenary company rescues a stranded person, all of the rescued person’s belongings go to the rescuer… Think about it, if we’d ignored you and you’d been killed by wild beasts, wouldn’t your things be ours anyway? We saved your life, so your things are mine now, including the leather armor you’re wearing… If you want it back from me, you either buy it back with money or you work for us. If I’m satisfied, I’ll give it to you. If I’m not, you can Dream on! Do you understand, little girl?”

The female commander’s long-winded lecture made Elizabeth’s face flush red with shame and humiliation. She said angrily, “I promised I would give you a generous reward, and I keep my word… I’m… I’m actually a Knight-Noble.”

The mercenaries looked at each other, then burst into laughter.

“Haha, I’m a Knight-Noble…”

“Yeah, well, I’m a noble too… a future lordship. If you marry me and become my wife, you’ll be a Lady in the future.”

“…She might have hit her head. She’s not thinking clearly.”

“Little girl, impersonating a noble is a serious crime. You should hurry up and apologize to the Grand Commander, and beg her to take you to the pioneering outpost in the Ghost Forest. You’ll die if you stay alone on the Great Plains.”

Octavia raised her left hand, silencing her subordinates’ sarcastic remarks and well-intentioned advice. She said to the girl whose face was beet red, “Seeing as you managed to make me laugh… give her things back to her. Let her go… We’ll continue on our way.”

A travel bag, a woolen cloak, another travel bag, a waterskin, and a bow and hand crossbow were all thrown at Elizabeth’s feet. Octavia gave her a Knight’s salute and said with a smile, “May the merciful Lord of Radiance guide you out of the Great Plains… Good luck to you, respected knightly lady.”

Watching the mercenaries lead their short-horned cattle into the distance, Elizabeth withdrew her gaze, lowered her head, and said in a small voice, “May the supreme Lord bless you… kind people. I swear I will repay you… if I can survive.”

Vice-commander Theodore looked back at the girl, who had become a small dot, and asked Octavia, “Miss, are we just going to leave her alone on the Great Plains like this?”

“She’s a kind child, afraid of getting us into trouble.” Octavia smiled slightly and said confidently, “Don’t worry about her. She’ll catch up.”

“Miss is wise and brilliant,” Theodore said, sucking up.

Octavia shot him a sideways glance and said proudly, “From now on, don’t call me Miss, and don’t call me My lord… Call me ‘Chief’… That sounds more like a Grand Commander of a mercenary company!”

Elizabeth walked toward the river in a daze. Even now, she couldn’t fully distinguish between dream and reality. The magnificent cathedral, the First Radiant Angel Micklemers, and that nightmarish wolf monster were all too real. The Holy Light runes and the set of combat technique secret arts that the Radiant Angel had implanted in her—she remembered them all clearly.

Life experience reminded Elizabeth that it was just a dream. The fragrance of the plains, the fresh air, the gurgling water, the wild rabbits and ground-rats in the grass, and the flesh-and-blood mercenaries with their emotions—that was reality.

Elizabeth tried to connect the events of being attacked and being rescued by the mercenaries. She didn’t know what had happened after she lost consciousness, and she worried that the powerful and evil Wizard was still looking for her.

To avoid implicating the Fire Lion Mercenary Company, she could only face all dangers alone, just like a righteous Paladin.

Arriving at the small river, Elizabeth knelt on the grass and filled her sheepskin waterskin. When she saw her reflection in the water, the waterskin slipped from her grasp with a splash, falling into the river and being carried away by the current.

Elizabeth didn’t bother to retrieve the precious waterskin. She plunged her entire head into the clear, cool river water, scrubbing her face and hair vigorously. When she opened her eyes again, she saw the reflection of a girl who was both strange and familiar.

Her features vaguely resembled Elizabeth’s original appearance, but her skin was dark and rough, her face covered in freckles. Her bright, brownish-red hair had turned a yellowish-gold, like dry wheat straw, the most common mixed hair color among Commoners. The Shimmering Eyes that symbolized her noble Bloodline were gone; her eyes were an ordinary brownish-gray.

Elizabeth couldn’t believe this was her current appearance. She collapsed onto the grass and sat stunned for a long time before she remembered to muster her pathetic amount of Aura.

There was nothing wrong with her Aura or her Elemental Node. Why have I become so ugly? Could it be… Princess Elizabeth Frederick thought of a possibility that filled her with delighted surprise. She quickly knelt on the ground, reined in her turbulent emotions, and silently chanted:

“When all is dark, only radiance endures.”

She tried to visualize the first rune Micklemers had passed on to her. The originally blurry image gradually became clear, and as her visualization deepened, the details of the rune were revealed.

A faint, weak, but holy wisp of light blossomed from Elizabeth’s fingertip.

“Divine Art of Holy Light! I can cast the Divine Art of Holy Light!”

The Divine Art of Holy Light was the most basic of priestly divine arts. Apart from emitting light, it had no special extraordinary effects on its own, but it could evolve into more advanced priestly divine arts.

Elizabeth cheered with joy, but soon her brows furrowed. She wanted to become a Paladin more than a priest.

“…Let’s try visualizing the second rune.” Filled with anticipation and unease, she knelt down again.

When the second rune was visualized, a warm current surged through Elizabeth’s body. She felt her depleted Aura recovering.

“…I’m a Paladin now.” Elizabeth looked at her rough-skinned hands, her eyes vacant. She didn’t feel as happy as she had expected. Instead, she felt a little sad, a little relieved, and a little confused. These complex emotions finally melded into a firm conviction and a noble sense of mission.

The Art of Light was the most fundamental divine art of a Paladin, falling between a priest’s Divine Art of Holy Light and a Sacred Warrior’s Heroism Art. Initially, it had the effect of restoring vigor and stamina. It could evolve into all of a Paladin’s divine arts, primarily to protect the soul from severe erosion by void elements, supplemented by healing and enhancement divine arts. A level four Silver rank Paladin with a semi-elementalized body could temporarily possess combat power comparable to a Gold Knight and could accept healing from divine arts, thus having a survival capability far beyond that of an ordinary Knight.

Mastering the Art of Light signified that the Mark of Light in her Bloodline had been awakened, making her a Paladin in the truest sense. Elizabeth’s situation, however, was somewhat different. She had activated the Divine Art of Holy Light and the Art of Light, which meant the next rune had to represent the Sacred Warrior’s Heroism Art.

The Heroism Art coordinated a Sacred Warrior’s strength and agility, weakened fear, transformed pain into controlled rage, and stimulated the Spirit. It was the source of all enhancement and punitive divine arts, present throughout all of a Sacred Warrior’s divine art levels.

For an apprentice knight like Elizabeth, the Heroism Art could significantly boost her combat effectiveness.

After confirming that the third rune indeed represented the Heroism Art, Elizabeth murmured to herself, “A miracle… This is a miracle from our Lord… I understand now. The angel Micklemers, acting on the Lord’s will, moved me from the Evildoer’s hands to the Great Plains, changed my appearance, and taught me the true meaning of sanctity. He has chosen me to be his disciple, hoping that I can vanquish evil and protect the people… The offspring of the King of Nightmares, no, the King of Nightmares is the great Devil I must eradicate!”

“Haha, I’m the student of the First Radiant Angel. I am Paladin Elizabeth Frederick. I don’t want to be some Empress Regnant of Sasan.” Elizabeth danced with joy. Seeing her reflection in the river, she suddenly remembered that her waterskin had just drifted away. She chased downstream for a few steps, then thought for a moment and turned back to run in the direction the Fire Lion Mercenary Company had left.

Over two hours later, the mercenaries heard Elizabeth’s shouts. They turned to see the mercenary girl who called herself a knight huffing and puffing as she chased after them.

Grand Commander Viel ordered the group to halt. Elizabeth stumbled up to them, panting as she said, “You… you guys, walk so, so fast… I almost didn’t catch up. Give me some water.”

“Fast?” Viel glanced at the short-horned cattle, which were leisurely munching on tender grass, and laughed. “Don’t tell me you got lost? With such obvious tracks from the ox-drawn sledge, you still managed to lose us?”

Elizabeth handed the waterskin back to a female mercenary next to her, wiped her mouth with her sleeve without a care for her image, and said shyly, “I… I want to join you.”

“Oh… and who might you be?” Grand Commander Viel drew out her words, her expression teasing.

Elizabeth’s face grew serious, and she recounted the story she had come up with on the way.

“My name is Mary. I’m twenty years old, and I’m a mercenary. A few days ago, our mercenary company was heading to the pioneering outpost in the Ghost Forest to take on a mission when we ran into Gnoll bandits. My companions fought to the death… I was the only one who escaped.”

The young girl’s eyes reddened, and tears streamed down her face. Her sadness was not feigned; the battle priest and Sacred Warriors who had protected her had likely all perished. Moreover, now that she was determined to shoulder a sacred mission and accept the First Radiant Angel’s trial as a mercenary, it would be difficult for her to see her family and friends again.

“Ran into Gnolls? Who are you kidding?” the Mystic Assassin, Penny, sneered mercilessly. “There’s no blood on your leather armor, and your longsword hasn’t even been drawn. Why don’t you tell us how you managed to break out on your own and shake off the Gnolls?”

“…I, I don’t know.” Elizabeth wanted to argue but was at a loss for words, so she could only lower her head in defeat.

“Alright.” Octavia waved her hand magnanimously, stopping her followers from continuing to berate the girl. She took a step forward and said softly, “You’ve run into trouble… But I have to say, you’re in luck. I just happen to be a Ranger who isn’t afraid of trouble.”

She paused, looked around at the mercenaries, and said in a loud voice, “No one is to mention what happened to Mary ever again, or else…”

“I’ll finish him off myself,” Theodore said with a grim face, finishing her sentence.

Grand Commander Viel nodded in satisfaction, then turned to Elizabeth and said, “Come, let’s re-introduce ourselves. Octavia, eighteen years old, Grand Commander of the Fire Lion Mercenary Company, and a future Legendary Ranger.”

Looking into Viel’s sincere eyes, Elizabeth blurted out, “Mary, twenty years old, a stranded mercenary, and a future Savior.”

The mercenaries were silent for a moment, then burst out laughing again.

“You want to learn medicine? Ruth is the best Physician in the company. You can ask her to be your Tutor,” the Grand Commander said with a smile, pointing to the female mercenary who had just handed her the waterskin.

“Yes, yes, I want to learn medicine,” the girl nodded repeatedly, unconsciously coming to see Grand Commander Viel as the person closest to her.

“Mary, welcome to the Fire Lion Mercenary Company. From now on, you are my little sister. Hmm, and also my follower.”

The group set off again. The mercenary girl, Mary, walked beside Viel. After a moment’s hesitation, she asked in a low voice, “Grand Commander, are you really only eighteen?”

“Of course, I’m eighteen this year.”

“…You don’t look it. Oh, I mean, I’m two years older than you, so I can’t be your little sister.”

“Mary, you’ve gotten your age wrong,” Grand Commander Viel corrected her very seriously. “You’re only sixteen this year, and you are my little sister.”

“Oh, is that so? Alright then.” Mary readily accepted the Grand Commander’s statement, then asked curiously, “Sister Viel, since you’re the Grand Commander, the Fire Lion Mercenary Company must be very large, right?”

Viel said proudly, “I have twenty-four mercenaries under my command. The Fire Lion Mercenary Company is a first-rate, large mercenary company.”

“Twenty-four people… That doesn’t seem like that many.”

“What do you know? A mercenary company with twenty-four people is already very impressive. Once we get to the pioneering outpost in the Ghost Forest, you’ll understand that we’re one of the few large mercenary companies.”

“Mhm, I believe you, Sister Viel.”

Theodore and the others followed silently behind the two, pretending they hadn’t heard a thing.

Chapter 696: Resolve

Eleven days later, the Fire Lion Mercenary Company crossed the Warton Great Plains and arrived at the Dodor Kingdom’s pioneering outpost in the Ghost Forest. This route was nearly a month faster than detouring from Whitewater Fortress. If Grand Commander Viel hadn’t ordered her subordinates to hunt some beasts and rout a few Gnoll bands along the way, their journey would have been even quicker.

Only a few in the mercenary company knew that Grand Commander Viel’s purse was empty, unable to produce more than a few Copper Sols. She needed to acquire some animal hides and sinews to sell at the pioneering outpost; otherwise, the Fire Lion Mercenary Company wouldn’t even be able to afford the deposit to accept a mission.

The Ghost Forest was a wilderness where humans were setting foot for the first time. Legend had it that the ancient Elven Royal Court had once annihilated an army of the Chosen that was hunting the Elves here, and the souls of the fallen had wandered the forest ever since.

This was, of course, a distorted rumor. The Law of Creation of the four elements dictated that any undead lacking the support of the water element would quickly dissipate. There had never been naturally occurring undead in the world, and even if an evil Wizard could create them, they could not exist for long.

The Flute Willows, which grew only in the Ghost Forest, had many holes in their trunks. When the evening wind swept through the woods, they would emit strange whimpers, as if ghosts were singing a dirge, sending a chill down one’s spine.

Human scholars had not yet fully determined what special value the Flute Willows held. Besides the willows, the Ghost Forest was also rich in timber, herbs, spices, fruit, rare animals, and a valuable Dragonbone Steel ore vein.

The Dodor Royal Family possessed the technology to refine Dragonbone Steel, a crucial material for manufacturing military heavy crossbows, large ballistae, and catapults. If production were sufficient, it would have even more widespread applications.

The Dodorians had long coveted the riches of the Ghost Forest. Not long after the white centaurs who lived adjacent to the forest migrated away as a tribe, they sent elite scouts deep into the woods multiple times to survey the distribution of resources and the white centaurs’ movements. However, compared to the valuable resources of the Ghost Forest, the Dodor Kingdom placed greater importance on the strategic value of the Great Plains. As long as they could occupy a territory on the Great Plains, the Dodor Kingdom could secure a continuous supply of cattle, sheep, and fine warhorses.

The Ghost Forest pioneering outpost was actually built on the flat grasslands, over fifty kilometers from the forest’s edge. It wasn’t very large, only about half the size of a typical small town. After all, grain couldn’t be grown on the prairie, so the outpost naturally didn’t need to reserve land for internal farmsteads. A thick wooden wall formed a ring, topped with many wooden arrow towers. The buildings inside were mostly simple, large wooden houses, primarily used for storing and processing supplies. The lord’s castle for the outpost was not yet built. The Radiant Church was the only limestone building inside. Its style was rough and simple, and it could serve as a defensive fortress if necessary. Once the outpost’s facilities were gradually completed, this church could be converted into a castle, and the resident priest would find another location to build a true cathedral.

Besides the temporary church, there was a peculiar green brick building in the outpost, its tall, soaring chimney particularly eye-catching. The Fire Lion mercenaries, curious, tried to approach for a closer look but were sternly halted by a guard.

Grand Commander Viel, seeing her subordinates being reprimanded, lifted her chin and said disdainfully, “It’s just a giant brick kiln. What’s so special about it?”

Mary (Elizabeth), who had long since become the commander’s devoted fan, first glanced at the knowledgeable Grand Commander with admiring eyes, then stood on her tiptoes, craning her neck to get a look at the green brick building behind the wall. “So this is a giant brick kiln? It’s the first time I’ve ever seen one. I hear it can produce tens of thousands of green bricks a day?”

“It’s just that there are a lot of brick-making craftsmen, over a thousand working together,” Viel said lightly, a slight curl at the corner of her lips. Then her face hardened, and she snapped at the guard, “Hey, take us to the mercenary tavern. I also need to go to the church to see the resident priest.”

Proper vassal soldiers had an ingrained reverence for Knight-Nobles, even one who was just a little-known Ranger. Despite the female mercenary commander’s terrible attitude, the outpost guard didn’t dare to retort. His face cold, he silently led the way.

Seeing the guard humbled by their Grand Commander, the Fire Lion mercenaries were exceptionally pleased, laughing and chatting as they drove their ox-drawn sledges to the outpost’s mercenary tavern.

The tavern was bustling, with even the corners of the walls outside the door occupied by burly mercenaries, who sized up the new competitors with provocative glares. Grand Commander Viel, who usually loved a lively scene, stopped in her tracks. She secretly felt her empty purse and, with a wandering gaze, commanded:

“Uh… Theodore, you and the others sell the game we caught. Rent a few rooms at the tavern and let everyone get settled… I’ll take Mary to the church to find the resident priest and see if the church has posted any Ranger missions.”

A confused Mary was dragged away by Grand Commander Viel. Not long after they were out of the mercenaries’ sight, Penny caught up from behind and quietly slipped a bulging purse into Viel’s hand.

“Chief, you need to make a donation before seeing the resident priest,” she said softly.

Viel accepted the heavy purse and asked in pleasant surprise, “Where’d you pick this up?”

She remembered clearly that the last time they’d purchased supplies, she had cleaned out Theodore and the others’ pockets.

Penny smiled, made a pinching motion with her slender fingers, then turned and ran off.

Viel’s mouth hung slightly open. After a dazed moment, she yelled at Penny’s retreating back, “I’ll pay you back… when I have the money.”

“Chief, what did sister Penny mean?” Mary tugged at Viel’s tassets, mimicking the gesture Penny had just made.

“…She stole it. Shh, don’t yell,” Viel whispered, covering Mary’s mouth.

Mary struggled free from Viel’s hand and said seriously, “Stealing is wrong… We should return it and have sister Penny apologize to the owner.”

Grand Commander Viel thought for a moment, then said in a troubled voice, “That… seems reasonable. But, I was planning to donate the money to the Church… How about this, when we earn our commission, we’ll pay the owner back in full.”

Before long, Viel and Mary emerged from the church and returned to the mercenary tavern, looking dejected.

Todd, the scout waiting outside, welcomed them in. The mercenaries inside the tavern consciously made a path. Some of them had bruised faces, and in a corner of the great hall was a pile of broken wooden tables and chairs. A small conflict had clearly just taken place.

Amid the crowd’s awestruck gazes, Todd led the Grand Commander and Mary up to the tavern’s second floor and into a simply furnished guest room. Theodore, his wife, and Penny stood up from their stools and greeted Viel.

“Chief, we sold the game to the tavern owner and got three rooms and some supplies in exchange. You and Mary get one room each, and Ruth and I will share the one next door. The others will have to stay in the shantytowns for now,” Theodore reported.

Viel took a cup of herbal tea from Ruth’s hand and sipped it listlessly. Pointing at Mary, she said, “Give the extra money to her. The priest accepted our donation, said a few words of praise, and completely ignored the act of theft, only saying that it’s good to be aware of one’s mistakes. This one took it hard. If I hadn’t been holding her back, she would have started an argument with the priest.”

Mary pouted and said defiantly, “Stealing is wrong… That person worked hard for their money. We should give it back.”

Theodore glanced at Penny. The Mystic Assassin pursed her lips and turned her head to the side. He had no choice but to scratch his head and say, “Well… we don’t have any money. This tavern is run by The Bear Company. They took our game but didn’t pay. They just gave us two days of free room and board and a batch of supplies in exchange…”

“What?! The Bear Company again!” Viel cried out before Theodore could finish. Realizing her behavior wasn’t befitting a composed Grand Commander, she took another sip of tea and explained, “There are no missions from the priest at the church. He told us to go to the frontline camp in the Ghost Forest and find Baritt, the commander of The Bear Company. He said that fellow is responsible for providing missions and distributing bounties to all mercenary companies and Rangers.”

Theodore and the others looked at each other. He asked cautiously, “Chief, do you have a feud with The Bear Company?”

“This is the first I’ve even heard of The Bear Company!” Viel shouted, then rested her chin on the table and muttered, “The resident priest said The Bear Company has four thousand members, with over fourteen hundred combat mercenaries. It’s the largest mercenary company in all the kingdoms… How did they get so big? Compared to them, I’m just a pipsqueak commander. It’s so infuriating…”

As she spoke, she raised her face, her eyes filled with hope, and asked, “How long do you think it will take for our Fire Lion Mercenary Company to surpass The Bear Company and become the number one mercenary company in all the kingdoms?”

The Physician, Ruth, said in a gentle voice, “Chief, that’s almost impossible… No lord would tolerate a mercenary company of that size… The Bear Company is a special case.”

Penny crisply interjected, “I’ve already asked around. The Bear Company is composed of dozens of smaller mercenary companies. They used to live off the Stag Merchants’ Guild, but for some reason, the Guild disbanded all its affiliated mercenaries. These people lost their income and had to scavenge for work. Just then, the Dodor Kingdom began pioneering the Ghost Forest and was recruiting mercenaries and Rangers in large numbers, so they all flocked here, banded together under the banner of The Bear Company, and formed a mega-mercenary company.”

Octavia knew the inside story of why the Stag Merchants’ Guild had disbanded its mercenary companies. At the time, the Dodor lords had cooperated with the Southwind Merchant Association of the Kingdom of Borea to strike at the Wimbledon Merchant Association. Sophia, enraged, had teamed up with Victor and Sylvia to assassinate Earl Hoton of the Golden Dawn Sparrow family. She had clearly used the merchant association’s mercenary forces, but from then on, the great lords became even more wary of the Wimbledon Merchant Association. To regain her partners’ trust, Sophia had no choice but to dismiss the mercenaries affiliated with the association.

It seemed these mercenary companies were the predecessors of The Bear Company.

“The outpost commander initially disagreed with the mercenary companies merging,” Theodore said. “However, with the beastmen war breaking out in the Sasan Empire, the Dodor lords had to transfer the outpost’s elite troops north as reinforcements. They needed a single, strong, and unified mercenary company to guard the outpost’s warning line at the edge of the Ghost Forest. The outpost’s commander and resident priest have given The Bear Company many advantages, including dispatching newly arrived mercenaries and Rangers, issuing missions to them, and handling the rewards. The Bear Company even gets a share of the war trophies and valuable resources gathered.”

Ruth also added, “Chief, The Bear Company has a great deal of power. Mercenary companies like us that arrive later need a letter of recommendation from The Bear Company to be noticed by the nobles of the pioneer fief, and only then do we have a chance to be taken on as vassals by a Pioneer Lord. Currently, Dodor’s cavalry is busy taking over the six prairie holy cities and clearing out the increasingly rampant prairie Gnolls. They don’t have the energy to deal with the monsters in the Ghost Forest, so they’ve handed over the patrol, guard, and exploration missions to The Bear Company. The Ghost Forest pioneering outpost has three armed forces: the Dodor Knight-Lords command eight hundred elite soldiers to defend this settlement; four thousand mercenary warriors from the Centaur Hills are distributed among the outposts and barracks along the route, protecting the southward-migrating refugees… Only the mercenary companies and Rangers led by The Bear Company are on the front lines of the Ghost Forest, dealing with the wild beasts and monsters within.”

Grand Commander Viel sat straight up, her eyes sparkling as she asked, “The commander of The Bear Company, Baritt… is he very strong?”

The others looked at each other and shook their heads, indicating they didn’t know anything about him. Todd the scout thought for a moment and said, “I hear he’s a pretty old fellow… He probably doesn’t have much strength, otherwise the outpost commander wouldn’t let him wield the authority of The Bear Company.”

“The Bear Company absorbed various smaller mercenary companies. Do those commanders have positions within The Bear Company?” Viel turned her head and asked.

Todd nodded. “Several of the mercenary commanders hold key positions in The Bear Company. It is said…” He gave a mocking smile and continued, “According to a few of those worthless grunts downstairs, their chief holds the position of vice-commander in The Bear Company, a real big shot, and they warned us to be careful.”

Bang! Viel slapped the table and stood up, her eyes blazing, beaming with joy as she declared, “I’ve made my mind up. We’re joining The Bear Company! And then, I’m going to become its Grand Commander. That way, I’ll be a true Grand Commander, a great Ranger, and Octavia… Ha, ha, ha.”

It was nearly impossible for a Ranger with a noble bloodline to seize control of The Bear Company. Mary didn’t understand the intricacies of it all; she just thought her sister Viel was incredible and clapped her hands with all her might.

Theodore and the others had no choice but to clap along in support. Grand Commander Viel’s slightly hoarse laughter grew ever more triumphant.

In the eastern territories of the Westdon Khanate, now called the Westdon Pioneer Fief’s front line, Howard Testier stood on a highland, gazing toward the distant east. In a place beyond the reach of even his extraordinary vision, centaur and beastmen tribes were perhaps engaged in bloody conflict, with the losers becoming the victors’ slaves. They would inevitably pose a threat to the front line. But by then, perhaps the front line would already be complete.

Craftsmen and soldiers, like diligent ants, ceaselessly built fortifications. Grand Commander Testier only wished that the construction could proceed even faster.

“My lord, the identity of that Wizard has been confirmed. His name is Barkley, and he comes from a commoner family in Hoof Village, in the Southern Realm of the Kingdom of Sus. He was a subject of Baron Tober, a peripheral lord of the Redhawk family. Thirty-nine years ago, at the age of sixteen, Barkley inadvertently exposed his talent for Wizardry and was reported to the local Church. The resident priest led men to arrest him, but was instead attacked by his Wizardry. A total of twenty-four people were killed or wounded, and Barkley subsequently escaped.”

Inquisitor-General Trigovar stood half a step behind Howard as he explained, “Because the Wizard Barkley killed the resident priest and the lord’s guards, the Inquisition was formally notified and intervened. During the interrogation of his relatives, we obtained no valuable intelligence. In an attempt to lure out the Wizard, the squad of Paladins from the Inquisition leading the case executed his parents and relatives as a public example, but… Barkley did not appear. After that, he vanished for thirty-nine years.”

“The Inquisition’s records show that Barkley’s wizarding talent is ‘Animation’. He can animate any object, with the best effect being on earth. His earth traps once swallowed eight soldiers at once. Additionally, his casting range is quite far, and he can spy on his opponents’ actions through his ‘animated objects’. There is evidence that he can bury himself underground to hide, and even travel short distances through it. When he would emerge, his body would be covered in a large amount of soil, like an earth puppet, granting him powerful defense and strength. Barkley used this ability to kill the resident priest and two Sacred Warriors. He later escaped from the Inquisition’s pursuit, but we believe he witnessed his family’s execution through his animated objects and now harbors a deep hatred for the clergy.”

“The attack in Watertide Town was clearly Barkley’s masterpiece. His primary objective was to kill clergy, not Her Highness Elizabeth Frederick. According to Bishop Dister, the undead monster that Barkley transformed into was particularly intent on killing him, but in the end, he and the two Adjudicators were ambushed by Wizardry and lost consciousness. When they awoke, the powerful monster had already collapsed.”

Howard drew back his gaze and turned to ask Trigovar, “Why has Barkley become so powerful? Who were his two Wizard accomplices? Solariven is certain that he killed Barkley… How could a dead Wizard attack the church in Watertide Town? And who was the mysterious Wizard that ambushed Bishop Dister and the Adjudicators? Why didn’t he kill Dister… or rather, why did he save Dister from the undead monster?”

The Inquisitor-General shook his head, his heart heavy. He could not answer a single one of these crucial questions.

“Is it an extraordinary talent of Wizards to know how to cover their tracks?” Howard stared at Trigovar for a moment before speaking. “Anything involving Wizards that can’t be explained can be blamed on Devils. You know that Pope Clement is preparing to propose that His Holiness the Pope use the Great Divination to unravel all the mysteries of this case. Patriarch Flidis used his authority to postpone this impossible motion… Tell me, how long do you think I can protect you?”

The Pope’s power had been sidelined, but he was, after all, a seventh-rank Spirit Priest. If the Holy See asked him to use the Great Divination, he would only scoff. The Great Divination shortened the caster’s lifespan. It would be a different matter if Nachtigal were the one asking the Pope.

Clement’s proposal was intended to pin the matter on Devils, thereby transferring the Inquisition’s jurisdiction from the Temple Army to the Templars.

It was an open secret that the Curia had coveted the Inquisition’s enforcement authority for a long time. Trigovar knew this well. He said in a low voice, “My lord, please give me three months. I guarantee I will find Princess Elizabeth.”

Howard smiled faintly and said nonchalantly, “The squad of Sacred Warriors escorting Elizabeth was killed by an Extraordinary Knight. Do you have a suspect?”

Trigovar shook his head and said, “I plan to start the investigation with the Baselius family.”

“Elizabeth has a pure Gold Bloodline. Everyone is a suspect in planning this attack.” Howard paused for a moment, then continued, “Blood Wolfhold and the Kingdom of Naville are the prime suspects, followed by the Dodor Kingdom, as they had the most convenient opportunity… The least likely suspect is Gambis, and after them, the Baselius family.”

“You want to use this as a pretext to stop the Baselius family from splitting the Sasan Empire. Your starting point is good, but it’s useless!”

“With Elizabeth’s whereabouts unknown, Auroxia doesn’t want to confront us, but now she has to bite the bullet and proceed.” Howard let out a long sigh and shook his head with a bitter smile. “The more you use this incident to pressure the Baselius family into backing down, the more fiercely the Sasan lords who support the Baselius restoration will push back… This is a matter of attitude, just as your attempt to frame the Baselius family for orchestrating the Wizard attack is also a statement of your attitude toward me.”

Howard did not need Trigovar’s attitude right now. He had to stabilize the current situation; preventing the Sasan Empire from fracturing was the top priority. Compared to that, even finding Elizabeth’s whereabouts was secondary. For this, the Radiant Knights might sacrifice the Inquisition and compromise with the Holy See. Because the Radiant Knights held a third of the seats in the Holy See, even if the Inquisition were incorporated into the Templars, the Testier family would still have considerable influence over religious law enforcement. Therefore, the true sacrifice would be the Trigoval family.

The Inquisitor-General said dejectedly, “My lord, I understand. Please give me six months. I will properly handle some matters in the Eastern Alliance…”

Howard nodded silently and started down the slope. As he walked, he said to Trigovar beside him, “The illegal dealings within the Eastern Alliance probably can’t be cleaned up in half a year… I don’t want to change anything either, but you all must be prepared. However, there might still be a turn of events…”

He pondered for a moment, then asked, “Do you know what His Highness Randall has been up to recently?”

The Inquisitor-General’s spirits lifted. He thought for a moment and ventured, “When the news of Elizabeth’s disappearance reached Nightingale Manor, His Highness Randall immediately sent people to contact both Blood Wolfhold and the Baselius family. I don’t know the specifics of what they discussed.”

Howard said noncommittally, “Prior to that, His Highness Randall granted an audience to Viscount Ternis Ludwig.”

“Viscount Ternis Ludwig?”

Trigovar recalled for a moment and said, “He is a friend of His Highness Randall. He was once in charge of tax collection at the Ministry of Finance in the Royal Capital of Gambis. Later, because of his friendship with His Highness Randall, Regent Williams gave him a promotion in name, a demotion in reality, by assigning him to an idle post.”

Howard nodded and said, “According to The Agreement, in another ten years, Sophia will hand over the Wimbledon Merchant Association to the Gale Knight Soren. In exchange, she has already adopted Soren’s youngest son. Sophia now has an opportunity to have a daughter with His Highness Randall to be the heir to the Marquess of Wimbledon. She herself has begun to seek real power in Aerie Fortress. Ternis Ludwig is the agent she’s putting forward, with the intention of securing the position of Minister of Finance.”

“Ternis has proposed tax reform, which includes two major points. First, Aerie Fortress will levy a trade tax on all lords in the Kingdom of Gambis. Second, the kingdom will levy a head tax on tenant households, which will still be paid by the lords to whom the tenants belong. A tenth of these taxes belongs to the Church, which we of course welcome. However, the lords are fiercely resistant, including the fief lords of Gambis, who have all united to put pressure on the Four Great Princely Families of Aerie Fortress. Duke York of the Centaur Hills is also putting on a show of opposition.”

“Why is His Highness Randall pushing these two unpopular taxes?”

Grand Commander Testier answered his own question, “The Kingdom of Gambis is engaged in an expansion south of the river. The royal family and the Queen’s family need to allocate more financial revenue and use taxes to realign the various lords.”

“Besides money and power, Gambis needs grain more than anything,” Howard said with a confident smile. “The New Agro-husbandry has allowed Gambis to achieve self-sufficiency in food, but their grain reserves are far from the minimum level required for the expansion south of the river. Calculating based on Gambis’s population growth, it would take them at least fifteen years to amass the grain reserves needed for the Southern Expansion War… That’s too long. My cousin has taken several hundred thousand refugees from the Sasan Empire, clearly preparing to complete the manpower deployment for the southern expansion as soon as possible. That makes Gambis’s grain shortage even larger.”

“Our conquest of the Westdon Khanate has provided a solid foundation for the pioneer wars of all the kingdoms. In just five years, the green wheat produced by the Sasan Empire will be able to meet the war needs of all kingdoms. There are internal disagreements among the northern lords, but the external kingdoms, including Gambis, are worried that a split in the Sasan Empire will affect their grain reserve strategy.”

“I hope the Raging Wind Sword Saint is willing to support the Radiant Knights and Blood Wolfhold. With his and Sylvia’s statements, the Trigoval family might be able to continue to lead the Inquisition.”

Testier and Trigovar reached the bottom of the slope. He took the reins of a Horned Wolf from a Sacred Warrior in his retinue and said with a profound gaze:

“You will come with me to Blood Wolfhold. Let His Highness Randall see my resolve!”

Chapter 697: The Suspects

In the study of the lord’s residence at Nightingale Manor, Victor sat behind his desk, poring over the sheepskin letters that had arrived through various channels. They were all intelligence reports regarding the Wizard attack in Watertide Town.

Though he appeared exceptionally focused, the beautiful and alluring Marchioness Wimbledon knew her husband possessed the ability to multitask. She sat across from Victor, her slender hand cupping her snow-white cheek, and said softly in a wheedling tone, “My dear, your Bear Company is doing splendidly at the Ghost Forest pioneering outpost. I helped a great deal, you know. All those smaller mercenary companies under the Wimbledon Merchant Association were sent there by me. That’s how the Bear Company grew to its current size.”

Victor gave a faint “mm” and continued to flip through the sheepskin letter in his hand.

Sophia secretly clenched her teeth, but her smile was like a blooming flower as she said, “The Bear Company’s several thousand mercenaries can already support themselves, and their income shows a considerable surplus. As far as I know, in the four months of the last Season of Water, after deducting all expenses, the Bear Company earned at least sixteen hundred Gold Sols. Hmm… can you guess how I know their income for those four months?”

“The resources the Bear Company obtains in the Ghost Forest are all purchased by the Wimbledon Merchant Association’s caravans. I gave them a very generous price for their goods. I’m supporting your Bear Company by cutting into the merchant association’s profits… Hey, are you even listening?”

Sophia, angered, reached out, trying to snatch the letter from Victor’s hands.

His hand turned naturally, evading the high-ranking female knight’s grasp. An impassable barrier seemed to exist between Sophia’s jade hands and the sheepskin letter. But Victor had indeed been disturbed by his wife. He had no choice but to place the letter face down on the desk, raise his dark, profound eyes, and say to the playfully indignant Sophia, “My dear lady, what is it you truly wish to discuss with me?”

Sophia pouted her glistening red lips and swept all the letters on the desk in front of her. She shot Victor a triumphant and charming glance, then, after a moment’s thought, said, “My dear, when you first established the Golden Company, you chose remote and sparsely populated trade routes, gathering many wildmen strongholds to serve as nodes for transporting smuggled goods. Now, we’ve reached secret agreements with several great lords on the border, including the Diocletian family’s Bronze-Halberd City, the DeWeimik family’s Stonetooth City, Dori Dekeizer’s Earldom, and the Blanstedt family’s Flowing Frost City… The Golden Company’s Northward and Eastward Advance is basically set. I think it’s time to gradually abandon those secret trade routes and wildmen strongholds of yours. What do you think?”

The main point of contention between Victor and Sophia regarding the Golden Company’s development strategy was the wildmen strongholds he had subdued in the early days. Victor wanted the Golden Company to continue maintaining these remote, secret trade routes, but Sophia was against it. She believed these wildmen strongholds were of no value to the company’s growth and should be abandoned. The resources produced by the strongholds could still be bought at low prices by local lords and then flow into the markets established by the great lords.

From a purely profit-oriented perspective, Sophia’s proposal better suited the Golden Company’s practical needs. The remote trade routes and mountain strongholds that Victor had worked so hard to open up now seemed rather obsolete. The main reasons were their limited cargo capacity and overly long transport cycles. The profits from selling the resources gathered and processed by the mountain folk were not even enough to cover the strongholds’ daily supplies. After the mountain folk submitted to the Golden Company, their population had grown significantly. Hunting and gathering alone were no longer sufficient to feed them, so Victor’s smuggling caravans had to find ways to transport more grain to them.

Factoring this in, the nearly one hundred smuggling caravans were already finding that their expenditure exceeded their income, barely hanging on thanks to the exorbitant profits from coffee.

However, Victor now controlled around one hundred thousand mountain folk and had built over thirty secret training camps deep in the mountain forests. Every year, the smuggling caravans would select appropriately aged boys and girls from the strongholds and take them to the camps to receive loyalty education and martial skills training. This not only eased the population pressure on the strongholds but also cultivated a batch of elite and loyal warriors for Victor.

The children in the training camps practiced the Source Blood Secret Art and consumed the Strength Potion invented by the Master Tofwen. It was estimated that they could provide the House of Randell with an average of two hundred level one Source Blood warriors and fifty level two Source Blood warriors each year. Some even had the chance to become level three Source Blood warriors—Mind Warriors who possessed the Vital Tenacity Talent.

Victor wanted the Golden Company to continue maintaining the secret smuggling routes to provide supplies for the mountain strongholds and secret training camps, but he could not possibly be candid with Sophia about the existence of the camps. This armed force, including the strongholds, was in Victor’s hands, and it had a presence in all the kingdoms. If the matter were exposed, they would inevitably be hunted down and destroyed by the local lords everywhere.

Unaware of the full story, Sophia naturally could not agree to continue maintaining unprofitable trade routes. And if she did learn the reason, who would this armed force belong to?

The Golden Company operated on a shareholding system with multiple partners. Sophia had invested the most capital and possessed the most complete commercial channels, even monopolizing trade with the barbarians. As a result, she controlled the company’s management rights. In contrast, the Centaur Hills side only had the right to dividends. Although Victor held actual influence over Sophia, asking the Golden Company to pay for his soldiers while he maintained sole control over this armed force was unjustifiable from any angle.

The two had never been able to reach a consensus on this issue. Consequently, Victor’s coffee business, public carriage transport system, candied fruit chain stores in major cities, and Black Market end-points had yet to be handed over to Sophia.

Sophia didn’t want to drag this on any longer. Today, she was determined to resolve these issues with her husband. She said sincerely, “My dear, the strategy of separating the shareholding system from management rights was your idea. I have already made corresponding promises to the lords who have joined the Golden Company to maintain its neutral operation and never deliberately favor the Centaur Hills. Otherwise, they will terminate their cooperation with us, and all our previous efforts will be wasted.”

“Continuing to maintain those trade routes where costs exceed profits is clearly inappropriate. Even if I forced it through, the lords would become suspicious and dissatisfied, which would in turn expose your mountain strongholds and smuggling caravans.”

“My dear, I know you’ve poured your heart into building this commercial network, and your subordinates have established close relationships with those strongholds. However, you should be aware that the reduced volume of mountain goods trade between the strongholds and the minor lords has already attracted the attention of the great families…”

Victor tapped the table, interrupting Sophia’s narrative, and said with a smile, “That’s alarmist talk… Surely my clever Countess can’t have failed to realize that those minor lords in remote areas are also beneficiaries of the smuggling caravans? They’ve been helping us cover things up… What’s a slightly smaller offering of mountain goods to the great families?”

“Even a sturdy house needs constant repairs, and problems will eventually arise over time. The appetites of those minor rural lords are growing. How much will you have to pay to buy them off?” Sophia walked around the desk, sat on her husband’s lap, wrapped her arms around his neck, and said affectionately, “We don’t need to deal with minor lords. Their liege lords will solve all the trouble. That’s the most cost-effective way to operate, with the highest profit. I have a proposal. What do you think?”

“The Golden Company will pay its first dividend at the end of this year. Although the amount won’t be large, I’m willing to take a sum from the share belonging to the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence and give it to you to resettle your smuggling caravans and some of the mountain folk. This will be an annual sum, increasing or decreasing by a fixed ratio. I have only one request: divest the unnecessary smuggling routes and mountain strongholds from the Golden Company.”

Sophia was dead set on trimming the Golden Company’s redundant personnel and extra expenses. Victor was noncommittal, only saying, “So you’re not going to manage the strongholds and some of the smuggling routes anymore? And you won’t ask questions if I continue to fund them?”

“Do whatever you want. It has nothing to do with the Golden Company anyway.” Sophia lightly pecked Victor’s lips and said with a charming laugh, “However, since I’m paying you out of my own pocket, your coffee and candied fruit businesses must be turned over to the Golden Company. If you can’t bear to give up the smuggling channels you built yourself, the Golden Company can take over your mountain goods business, but only the mountain goods… Other commodities must go through the Golden Company’s channels.”

“Give me a good price?” Victor asked jokingly, caressing his wife’s small hand.

“In your dreams!” Sophia huffed, a smile playing on her lips. “If we’re divesting, we divest completely. I’ll be the one to set the purchase price for the mountain goods.”

Victor shrugged. “Alright, we’ll go with your price for the mountain goods. They’re just picked up from the forest anyway… How much of an extra dividend will you give me each year?”

Sophia held up a single, fair, and smooth finger, waving it in front of Victor’s nose. “A ten-percent share… a ten-percent share of the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence’s annual dividend.”

“…That’s too little.”

“It’s not little at all…” Sophia leaned close to Victor’s ear, her fragrant breath tickling him as she whispered in a coquettish voice, “Won’t my money be inherited by our children anyway? Can you bear to snatch money from your own children’s hands?”

The beautiful Countess’s coquettish pestering still had some effect on Victor. After all, the Golden Company was only one part of his overall grand plan, and there were more important matters demanding his attention.

News of the Wizard attack in Watertide Town had reached Victor’s ears. Although the Church was trying hard to cover up the truth, even purifying some random Wizard they had captured in the Watertide Town Church square and pinning the blame on him, Victor had used his various channels to gather some details and piece together the sequence of events.

Two points in particular caught Victor’s attention.

First, the attacker had killed dozens of clergy members. It wasn’t that the attacker’s Wizardry was exceptionally powerful—in fact, a major flaw of Wizardry was its rigidity and limited range of attacks. Even if the attacker’s puppet was unkillable, had the clergy present simply scattered and fled to buy time until the Wizard’s vigor was depleted, so many would not have died.

The Paladins and the Cardinal had responded very poorly. They chose to face the puppet Wizardry head-on instead of avoiding its spearhead. This was because the Wizard was attacking a Church; the clergy had to stand their ground. Only when the final line of defense collapsed did the survivors flee.

The time and place of the Wizard’s attack were extremely precise. Who had provided him with that intelligence?

Second, intelligence showed that the magical puppet withstood both the Sacred Flame Art and Smite Evil. This indicated that the caster had come prepared, not only understanding the divine arts of priests and Sacred Warriors but also possessing ways to counter them.

How did the Wizard achieve this?

Devils were a good explanation. Victor believed this incident was related to Devils, but that was on a non-material plane. When reflected in the real world, there had to be accomplices, or rather, people who were using the Devils.

This was quite normal. Wizards who used the Devil’s whispers to obtain knowledge and power had always existed. Just like Imosen, who had expanded his own aptitude for Wizardry and reached the Legendary-rank by occasionally hearing these whispers. Wizards who could not hear the Devil’s whispers were the truly untalented ones; in the Era of the Chosen, they probably wouldn’t even qualify as a Wizard’s apprentice.

The Church would certainly investigate this matter to the end. The problem was, the mastermind behind the attacker seemed unafraid of the Church’s investigation.

Where did their confidence come from? And what was their purpose in doing this?

Princess Elizabeth’s whereabouts were unknown, which pointed to two possibilities. She was either dead or had been captured by some faction. If she were alive, her Gold Bloodline would be difficult to conceal. Once she advanced to Gold rank, any Legendary-rank Knight would be able to sense it, and her captors would be exposed. If Elizabeth was dead, the Church would surely use the Great Divination to uncover the truth.

Was the mastermind hiding in the shadows not even afraid of the Great Divination?

Yes, they truly weren’t afraid, or rather, they had a way to counter the Great Divination. If so, this was a very clear signal—a clear signal sent to the Baselius family.

The Inquisition had purged the rebels among the Shadow Priests, but someone was telling the Baselius family, We are still alive, we possess the power to counter the Great Divination, and we can still cooperate!

Connecting this with the baffling beastman war, Victor was starting to believe that the Shadow Priests could counter—or more accurately, manipulate—the Great Divination. The appearance of the Centaur Great Khan was highly unusual; by all rights, the Sidon Centaur tribes should not have produced two Legendary Great Centaurs in such a short period. The aftershocks of a Great Divination could achieve this, but whether there was human interference remained to be confirmed.

Regardless, Victor was already suspicious, and the Baselius family was bound to have similar thoughts.

According to Auroxia, the papal line once kept Wizards, and the Pantheon from over a thousand years ago had countless ties to the current Shadow Priests. The difference was that the Pantheon was controlled by the Pope and eventually spun out of control, while the Shadow Priests were created by the Inquisition and were in league with the most ancient Holy Mountain Monastery. And it was highly likely that the Holy Mountain Monastery held part of the legacy of the Chosen-era Wizards.

It was entirely possible that a Wizard scholar kept by the Church had been researching and improving the Great Divination for the Pope and the Pontiff.

Besides them, Father Miller was a major suspect. Victor was certain the old man had his hand in this. It would be stranger if he didn’t interfere in a matter involving prophecy and Devils.

However, Victor believed Miller had no real-world connection to the Shadow Priests. It would be far too simple for him to help the Shadow Priests escape the Inquisition’s enslavement; if it became necessary, he would do so.

The God-favored of the Lord of Radiance was of too high a status. The Shadow Priests themselves were the most likely culprits. As for the third suspect, Victor placed it on the Pope. Pope Clement, even if he had the ability, probably wouldn’t do this. The Holy See did not wish to see the Sasan Empire split apart, so it naturally wouldn’t abduct Elizabeth.

The Pope and Nachtigal had deep resources and heritage. Even if the papal line was now kept in check, Nachtigal knew the Church’s secrets regarding Wizards all too well. Moreover, Nachtigal was unfathomably profound, and Victor found it difficult to grasp their thoughts.

In any case, he had to find a way to sound out Nachtigal… Victor shook his head, turning his attention back to Sophia. He said pensively, “With Princess Elizabeth missing, the Sasan Empire is bound to fall into chaos. Auroxia sent word to me that she has decided to go all out and strive for the restoration of the Iron Mountain Empire. I understand the Baselius family’s predicament, but I’m not optimistic about their chances… If the lords of Iron Mountain and Sasan can guarantee a stable supply of grain to the Gambis Kingdom, I don’t care how they fight. But that’s obviously impossible. In the face of political interests, no promise is reliable. The grain supply will inevitably become a political bargaining chip in their wrestling match… I want you to design two sets of grain purchase agreements from a trade perspective—one for the Baselius family and one for the Frederick family… I’ll compare them and observe both sides’ reactions before deciding who to bet on.”

“I’ll draft the proposals as soon as possible…”

Just as she spoke, Natalia rushed into the study. Seeing the Earl and Countess in an embrace, she said urgently, “We just received an informal report. Howard Testier and the Inquisitor-General have arrived in the Sasan imperial capital. They intend to propose to Her Highness Auroxia!”

“What? Who did you say?” Victor stood up as if he hadn’t heard clearly, asking with wide-eyed astonishment.

The visibly younger and more beautiful Natalia took a deep breath, her expression alight with excitement as she said, “The Grand Commander of the Radiant Knights is preparing to resign from his position in the Church, renounce his divine powers as a Paladin, take Frederick as his surname to ascend the throne of the Sasan Empire, and propose to Duchess Auroxia Baselius, promising her the title of Empress!”

“This… This is…” Sophia was at a total loss, unsure of what to say. Finally, she managed a comment: “That’s just ruthless!”

Natalia’s face was flushed with excitement as she asked curiously, “Will Auroxia agree?”

“Haha, how could she possibly agree? My cousin has decided to abandon all pretense of dignity. The Baselius family has no choice but to admit defeat.” Victor laughed loudly, nodding. “This is good too. With Blood Wolfhold continuing to wield imperial power in the Sasan Empire, our grain purchase agreement will be secure…”

Sophia gave Victor a strange look and sighed faintly. “How do you know Auroxia will refuse? What if she accepts the proposal and demands that Howard serve as a Prince of the Iron Mountain Empire? Testier has no shame, but do you think Auroxia is afraid of him?”

“This… Ha, so it’s Testier who won’t agree. He’s preparing to enter the fray himself and have a formal showdown with the lords of both sides, forcing everyone to pick a side.” Victor gave a self-deprecating laugh and shook his head. His eyes shone brightly as a slight smile curved his lips. “Since it has come to this, send them our ‘gift’. And for me, invite Inquisitor-General Trigovar to Nightingale Manor for a private evening banquet.”

“There’s a lot I need to discuss with him…”

Chapter 698: The Advent of the Rock Brick

In the House of Nobles of Blood Wolfhold, Christopher, the Chief Administrator of the Baselius royal family, stood on a high platform on the wall. Dressed in dark, iron-like court robes, he faced the Grand Vizier of Blood Wolfhold, old Marquess Ekmor, as they debated before the assembled crowd.

“The Frederick and Testier families share the same bloodline, but their surnames are different, their families are different. The honorable His Highness Howard Testier is not qualified to inherit the Sasan throne… Although I greatly admire His Highness Testier’s great achievements and noble character, the imperial succession has its own system. If anyone can disregard the family’s system of succession, would it not lead to chaos? This is harmful and not beneficial to the Empire, to the lords of the various kingdoms, and to the Church!”

Old Marquess Ekmor spoke slowly, almost arrogantly, “More than nine thousand years ago, His Majesty, the first Pope Inoc, clearly established the bloodline inheritance system. At that time, it gained the approval of all the Knight families of the city-states, and they jointly established a covenant, writing this system into the Radiant Code… Has Your Excellency Christopher not studied this period of history?”

“Everyone, primogeniture also relies on the bloodline inheritance system. The Guardian System is a supplement to primogeniture. A Family Guardian must unite with a blood-kin of the family, and only their descendants can inherit the family’s titles. This shows that bloodline is the core condition for legal succession.” The Grand Vizier of Blood Wolfhold faced the crowd and declared in a resonant voice, “The Sasan Imperial Family was formed from the union of the Frederick and Testier families. It is therefore completely legal for His Highness Howard Testier to inherit the throne now. This is indisputable!”

The court nobles of Blood Wolfhold all nodded and voiced their agreement. The scholar-nobles from the Baselius side, however, remained silent, their faces full of disdain.

As the discussions below gradually quieted, Christopher gave a cold laugh and said, “Are blue hair and black hair the same bloodline?”

The council hall of the House of Nobles fell deathly silent, and then immediately erupted into an even more intense debate. The clamor was so loud it almost blew the roof off.

In a lounge behind the House of Nobles, the two legendary Highnesses, Auroxia and Howard, sat opposite each other at a long conference table. Hearing the sound of the nobles arguing from the front, she wrinkled her nose slightly, tilted her head to study Testier, and asked in a gentle voice, “Is there any point in you gathering the court nobles here to argue?”

Howard Testier smiled. “I used to think it was pointless. But now, I want to experience the troubles of an Emperor in advance.”

Auroxia huffed and said, “You first renounce the divine favor of the Supreme Lord, and I will immediately concede… Putting on a show can only fool mortals.”

“What then? Just watch as you fool all of Sasan’s lords into rallying under the Gryphon Flag?” Howard looked at Auroxia with admiration and said with a smile, “It could also be real…”

Auroxia grinned, her interest piqued. “That would truly be my honor… I originally only wanted to continue as the Empire’s Guardian. If Your Highness is interested in the position of Iron Mountain Prince, I can, with some reluctance, follow the example of my ancestor Verodica and become the Empress Regnant of the Iron Mountain Empire.”

The atmosphere of the meeting had been amicable, but Auroxia’s smile added a touch of ambiguity. Howard had to admit that she was, after all, of a Spirit Knight’s bloodline. As a fellow Legendary Knight, Auroxia’s spiritual power was superior to his, allowing her to dominate the atmosphere in the lounge. It was like a dense mist enveloping the room, silently seeping in. If he were to give up his Paladin’s divine arts and authority, the power gap between them would reverse. Even now, as a Legendary-rank Paladin, he would lose more often than win if he were to face Auroxia in this confined space.

The close combat ability of a Raging Wave Knight surpassed all other types of Extraordinary Knights. Thus, in the families of Extraordinary Knights, the wife was generally more forceful. Emperors and Empresses, or Empresses Regnant and Princes, were rarely exceptions.

Of course, it was impossible for Howard to truly unite with Auroxia; any so-called marital relationship was purely fictitious. But Auroxia’s spiritual power was a given, and her influence on the Empire’s central authority would clearly surpass Howard’s. Not to mention, if Howard renounced divine favor, it would be a huge loss for the Testier family and even the Radiant Knights.

Auroxia was equally wary of the vast power behind Howard, and the determination he showed was terrifying. If things really developed to that point, whether the Sasan Empire continued or the Iron Mountain Empire was restored, the political situation in the entire north would still be plagued by internal and external troubles.

“Your Highness Testier, the families of the Iron Mountain Empire are all watching Baselius. We cannot simply back down like this… I propose a plan: the Iron Mountain Empire is restored, the Frederick family still maintains its status as the Sasan Imperial Family, and the northern lords can freely choose to join the Iron Mountain Empire or swear fealty to Blood Wolfhold. As an exchange, Baselius will allow the secular children of the Paladin families to enter the Iron Mountain Empire’s central authority. The positions of Grand Vizier and Minister of War will be appointed by the Testier family. I am willing to swear an oath on behalf of the Baselius family that the Iron Mountain Empire, like the Sasan Empire, will do its utmost to support the military operations of the Radiant Knights.”

“What does Your Highness think?”

Howard smiled and shook his head. “There is no need for an oath… I believe you are telling the truth. The Baselius family and all the northern lords need the military support of the Radiant Knights. However, just as Your Highness said, the surviving families of the Iron Mountain Empire are watching the Gryphon Flag, and the clergy of the Radiant Church are watching Testier. The difference between us is that you can back down, but I cannot!”

“…Today’s Testier family is a full seven generations removed from Crown Prince Siegfried and Princess Freya of the Frederick line, and they have indeed become less obedient. My ancestor could prop up one Frederick family, so I can prop up another. The bickering nobles outside are actually also looking at me with eager eyes. They don’t believe I would give up the Supreme Lord’s favor, and instead hope to win my good graces.”

“If the Baselius family endures for a few more decades, the Iron Mountain Empire will still see its glorious return. Auroxia, why are you in such a hurry? Today, if you take one step back, I guarantee the Radiant Knights will lean towards Baselius and gradually shift to a neutral stance.”

Auroxia covered her small mouth, her expression a mix of surprise and amusement. “How do we retreat? By taking a fall and letting everyone laugh at Baselius?”

The Baselius family are descendants of Spirit Knights and Sun Elves. They have the noblest bloodline, one that even the ancient bloodline of the Nachtigal family cannot compare to. The struggle for imperial power in the Sasan Empire was in fact a clash between the knightly lords and the divine authority of the Church. Such a thing was bound to happen, and the leaders of both sides would not back down easily.

Howard fell silent, closing his eyes and tapping his fingers lightly on the tabletop. Auroxia lowered her head, a gentle, faint smile playing on her lips, as if recalling something amusing.

The noise from the House of Nobles grew more chaotic, but did nothing to break the stalemate.

A moment later, Testier opened his eyes, saw that Auroxia opposite him had also raised her head, and said with a smile, “I didn’t expect that Your Excellency would be the one to step forward… I wonder how Cousin Victor intends to break the stalemate?”

Auroxia rose gracefully and nodded. “I’m also very curious. What will he do?”

Howard Testier was the foremost figure in the Radiant Church. He would rather renounce divine favor than retreat. Under the pressure from the Church, the Baselius family had gone from being the Ironmount Royal Family to representatives of the secular lords. Though they were extremely reluctant to fight the Church to the bitter end, they had no path of retreat.

However, Baselius was not quite qualified to fully represent the secular lords, because the southern kingdoms had a Spirit Knight and a Raging Wind Sword Saint.

His Highness Randell, who was staying at Nightingale Manor, was someone qualified to break the stalemate.

Only with a stable political situation in the north could the food reserve strategy of the southern kingdoms be guaranteed. Even if Victor did not want to get involved in this struggle for imperial power, he couldn’t just stand by and watch the dispute escalate. He had to step in to mediate and try to resolve the conflict between the two sides.

In fact, Howard Testier’s resoluteness and Aurorsia Baselius’s hardline stance were all meant to force His Highness Randell into the game. Victor could only support the Church for now, otherwise Gambis would attract suspicion due to the disappearance of Princess Elizabeth Frederick.

With the support of the Raging Wind Sword Saint and the Spirit Knight, Howard Testier could quickly and decisively resolve the turmoil in the north. This would win him praise within the Church, alleviate the pressure from the incident with the Wizard attack, and thus give him ample time and energy to find the truth behind the attack and Elizabeth’s whereabouts.

On the other hand, not only would the Baselius family have room to maneuver and retreat, but the Raging Wind Sword Saint would also owe them a massive favor.

The nobles in the council hall saw Testier and Baselius emerge together. The boisterous debate gradually died down, and the crowd automatically parted to form a path, allowing the two Highnesses to walk to the doors of the great hall.

Before long, a barbarian, surrounded by several Sacred Warriors, appeared at the entrance of the House of Nobles’ council hall.

He was tall and burly, a full 2.5 meters in height. His hair was gray, almost white, his features rugged. He wore a beast-hide pauldron and leather trousers, revealing rock-like muscles. His bronze skin was covered in tattoos and scars. His resolute eyes held a cold, ruthless air, like a half-giant from the ancient, savage wilderness, exuding a suffocating sense of pressure.

This was a barbarian, and a very powerful barbarian Warrior!

The scholars and court nobles in the council hall saw the two massive, wildly designed battleaxes on the barbarian’s back, and they all held their breath, avoiding direct eye contact for fear of attracting his attention.

Those two axes were as ridiculously large as door panels. Even a Knight would have to use two hands to wield one, but this barbarian seemed to use them as one-handed battleaxes.

Howard’s gaze did not linger on the barbarian’s battleaxes, but instead fell on his belt, where a heavy little pouch was tied.

The Grand Commander of the Radiant Knights retracted his gaze and bowed, saying, “Elder Harald, I did not expect Your Excellency to grace Blood Wolfhold.”

Harald? He was the barbarian Elder, Harald?

The vast majority of Sasan nobles did not recognize Harald, but everyone had heard of his reputation: Urus of the barbarians, Legendary Berserker, Legendary Weapon Master, War-chanter. He had easily suppressed Grand Duke Peter, a Gold Knight of the Kingdom of Sus, and was highly regarded by Neo Wester and Tournans. Even the Spirit Knight Sylvia acknowledged his strength. Most importantly, behind Elder Harald were hundreds of thousands of Arreat barbarians. They were all naturally powerful warriors. It was said that every adult barbarian possessed strength comparable to a Bronze Knight, and there were probably more Gold-rank barbarian Berserkers than Gold Knights in all the human kingdoms.

Fortunately, these irascible, battle-loving barbarians guarded the Arreat Plateau, holding back the plague-like hordes of the Grayhollow Satyrs. Otherwise, the human kingdoms would directly suffer the invasion of the Grayhollow Satyrs.

This point was particularly important for the lords of the Sasan Empire.

Harald completely ignored the weaklings trying to express goodwill. He glanced at Auroxia, then fixed his gaze on Howard, and said in fluent human tongue, “Sophia Urus asked me to deliver this pouch.”

He took down the pouch and handed it to Howard, continuing, “The two bricks inside were given to me by Sylvia. She promised me that if I brought the bricks to the Sasan Empire, the Children of the High Mountain would also be able to obtain enough bricks. The barbarians need these bricks to build their hunting camps.”

Howard took the pouch and pulled out two grayish-brown bricks. His ice-blue eyes contracted instantly. After a moment of contemplation, he handed one of the bricks to a solemn-looking Auroxia, then said to the barbarian Elder, “Your Excellency can rest assured. I guarantee the barbarians will get the bricks they need to build their hunting camps.”

Harald, who looked like a half-giant, looked down at the Grand Commander of the Radiant Knights and nodded. “I trust Sylvia and her spouse.”

Howard was not the least bit annoyed and said as if it were a matter of course, “We likewise recognize the promise those two Highnesses made to the barbarians.”

Harald was not surprised by Howard’s answer. “I must return to the Centaur Hills.”

“Your Excellency, please wait a moment.”

The barbarian Elder looked at Auroxia, who appeared delicate and lovely in her long dress, and asked, “Powerful lady, what is it?”

Auroxia, holding the brick in one hand and the hem of her skirt in the other, curtsied gracefully. “May I know the name of this type of brick?”

“Sylvia calls it ‘rock brick’.” The barbarian Elder seemed very pleased with the name ‘rock brick’ and added, “Sylvia told me that if a powerful lady in the Sasan Empire asks for the brick’s name, I should tell her… ‘The rock brick is cheap, and therefore very expensive.’”

Auroxia was stunned for a moment, then smiled. “Thank you for telling me, Your Excellency.”

The barbarian Elder strode away. Howard and Auroxia nodded to each other without a word and left the council hall of the House of Nobles with their respective retinues.

The sharp-eyed court nobles and scholars noticed that the two noble Highnesses were personally holding those grayish-brown rock bricks as they boarded their carriages and headed in opposite directions.

The debate in the council hall thus ended abruptly. After the carriages of the two Highnesses were far away, the nobles didn’t even bother to say goodbye to one another and hurriedly left the House of Nobles. Hundreds of light, two-wheeled carriages scattered in all directions from the imperial capital.

Back at Cacsins Cathedral, Testier held an adamantine box containing the rock brick as he went up to the archbishop’s lounge on the second floor. Patriarch Flidis was not here; he still needed to preside over promotion ceremonies for the clergy of the Radiant Knights at the Holy See. Inquisitor-General Trigovar came out to greet him. After Howard entered the room, he closed the door and said:

“My lord, His Highness Randell sent someone to invite me to his private evening banquet, stating that I alone am invited.”

Howard sat in the main seat, opened the box, and pushed it toward Trigovar. “Take a look at this.”

Trigovar took the unremarkable brick from the ornate adamantine box, squeezed it slightly, and said with a face full of shock, “This… this thing is a brick? It doesn’t contain any iron powder?!”

Howard nodded and said in a low voice, “Sylvia entrusted the barbarian Elder Harald to deliver it. She gave this brick an ordinary name: rock brick.” He leaned back in his chair, exhaled a long breath, and laughed. “I finally understand now why Sylvia secretly asked His Holiness the Pope to let the barbarians stay in the Centaur Hills… They invented iron bricks and rock bricks long ago. She wanted to borrow the barbarians’ influence to secure the greatest benefits from the rock bricks.”

Trigovar was speechless. The appearance of rock bricks didn’t just change the situation; it changed the course of history. Even a Spirit Knight would not find it easy to hold on to the massive profits from rock bricks. This responsibility was too great. Only by cloaking it in barbarian diplomacy did she have the room to manipulate the benefits.

Howard took the rock brick back from Trigovar’s hand and laughed heartily. “The Centaur Hills lack stone quarries. The Gambis Royal Family cut off the stone trade to corner the York family, forcing them to invent the giant brick kiln, which led to rock bricks… Sylvia’s message was that rock bricks are cheap to make, and therefore very expensive… but no matter how expensive, it’s worth it. Even if His Highness Randell supports the restoration of Baselius, I will agree… We have no choice but to agree. Anyone who opposes this is ignoring the bigger picture!”

Trigovar nodded and said thoughtfully, “If we hadn’t been in such a rush to clean out the peripheral Wizards controlled by the Shadow Priests, perhaps we could have figured out the composition of the rock bricks. I remember there was a Wizard who could do that.”

“What about the process? The manufacturing process for rock bricks, is there a way to grasp it?” Howard was quite tempted and pressed on.

“That… I’m afraid we’d have to ask the scholar-priests of the Ivory Sanctum.”

Howard thought for a moment, then shook his head and sighed. “It would actually be very difficult. The advent of rock bricks and iron bricks was likely an accidental discovery by kiln craftsmen. It would certainly be very difficult for the Ivory Sanctum to research the manufacturing process. But it doesn’t matter. Since Sylvia and Victor chose to reveal the rock bricks at this time, they will share the formula and manufacturing process.”

“His Highness Randell inviting you alone to the banquet is a good start. He most likely will not support the Baselius family’s restoration…” Howard tapped the table and looked up. “Go see him. Ask him what he wants.”

The Inquisitor-General nodded. “It will take about ten days by carriage to reach Nightingale Manor. If I delay a little, I can arrive in fifteen days… My lord, do you want to keep this matter under wraps for now and ask for Patriarch Flidis’s opinion?”

Howard shook his head. “I’ve already thought it over in the carriage. This matter cannot be suppressed. Sylvia and the Auguste family have surely reached a consensus. News of the rock bricks has probably already spread throughout the southern kingdoms.”

“We might as well add fuel to the fire and publicize the benefits of rock bricks on behalf of the York family… They have demands for the Church, and they have demands for the secular lords. Rather than having us negotiate with Sylvia alone, it’s better to pull everyone in. This way, we can stand on the side of the Centaur Hills, or we can stand on the side of the great lords. It all depends on what conditions His Highness Randell offers.”

Trigovar said, “In that case, I will set off at once… Actually, I can roughly guess the main reason for His Highness Randell’s invitation. When we met at Giantstone Fortress, he mentioned he wanted to host a banquet for me… I have already brought my Trigovar ancestor’s notes on the Ant-men with me.”

Howard gave the Inquisitor-General a deep look and said with a smile, “Whether the Trigoval family can continue to preside over the Inquisition from now on will depend on His Highness Randell’s opinion.”

Chapter 699: Questions and Answers

His Highness Randell’s invitation did not specify a time. It would be rude and unrealistic to summon a Gold Paladin at a moment’s notice, but twenty days was the deadline for this private meeting. The sooner the guest arrived, the more respect they could show their host. Inquisitor-General Trigovar set out that same afternoon with a retinue, riding Horned Wolves. They reached Bronze-Halberd City the following evening, stayed the night at the city’s cathedral, and visited Nightingale Manor on the afternoon of the third day.

The two Great Knights of the Gambis Kingdom, Viscount Eriks and Earl Teldrane, greeted Inquisitor-General Trigovar at the manor’s entrance. The two parties exchanged salutes and pleasantries. Viscount Eriks then led the Inquisitor-General’s retinue to rest, while Earl Teldrane guided Trigovar into the rear garden of Nightingale Manor.

His Highness Randell was currently training two Leonine unicorns of different colors with a tall, high-ranking female knight who had a cool and stunning aura.

Trigovar usually lived in seclusion, overseeing the Inquisition’s headquarters on the Mountain of Light, and he rarely participated in social events. However, he was aware of all of His Highness Randell’s intimate lovers, including three personal handmaidens of no significant status.

This female knight, with her shapely brows, phoenix eyes, and amber pupils, was His Highness Randell’s lover, Gillian of the Chepman family. According to Trigovar’s intelligence, the Chepman family intended to name their second son, who had a marriage alliance with Aerie Fortress, as their heir. They hoped Gillian would voluntarily leave the family and pledge allegiance to the kingdom’s royal in-laws. This matter was hardly a secret, yet Gillian herself remained completely unaware. His Highness Randell was exceptionally fond of her, so much so that even Earl and Lady Chepman dared not be candid with their eldest daughter about the reason, fearing it would hurt her and, in turn, infuriate the Gold-Eyed Earl.

Only upon meeting Young Lady Gillian Chapman in person did Inquisitor-General Trigovar realize just how intimate His Highness Randell’s feelings for her were.

The renowned Raging Wind Sword Saint was dressed in hunting attire. With black hair and black eyes, he lacked any obvious extraordinary aura, looking just like a dashing and handsome youth. He and Gillian had met during the Ant-man plague. At the time, he was merely an ordinary Wind Walk Archer, barely even Silver rank, so naturally, he would not have displayed his dark gold eyes.

Now, though the gap in their realms had widened, maintaining his former black eyes made Gillian happy.

His Highness Randell was considerate and gentle with his lover, but this sent a jolt of alarm through Inquisitor-General Trigovar.

He was not foolish enough to believe that a black-haired, black-eyed Randell had lost the power of a Sanctuary-rank expert. This could only mean that Victor’s control over his power and Bloodline had reached a level previously unheard of. Powerful extraordinary beings were naturally remarkable, like a fire in the darkness, bright and dazzling, capable of attracting followers while also serving as a warning and deterrent to strong enemies. For Victor to exhibit an ordinary Posture while possessing the strength of the Saint realm made him extremely terrifying.

A higher realm meant greater freedom over the principles of Law. As a Gold Knight and a level four Paladin, Trigovar was confident he could face the Raging Wind Sword Saint in a direct confrontation, perhaps even with a chance of victory. At the very least, he would not be crushed in a one-on-one battle. But if his opponent could slip past his elemental perception, approach silently, and behead him with a single strike, then none of the Gold Knight’s Semi-elementalization or the Paladin’s holy healing spell would matter. He would have no room to even struggle or counter-attack.

The gap of two realms could not be bridged by combat prowess or divine arts. At this point, Trigovar feared that only Legendary-rank experts could stand shoulder-to-shoulder with His Highness Randell… He couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe toward the handsome, black-haired youth, which in turn deepened his own desire to achieve the Legendary rank.

Victor spotted the Inquisitor-General and whispered a few words into his lover’s ear. The Young Lady Chapman nodded, then led the two Leonine unicorn war beasts—one gold, one silver—toward the garden’s back gate.

After Gillian left the garden, Victor stepped forward to greet the Inquisitor-General, saying with a smile, “Your Excellency Trigovar, you’ve arrived sooner than I expected. The Evening Banquet isn’t even ready yet. My apologies… Why don’t we sit here in the garden of Nightingale Manor for a moment?”

His Highness Randell’s suggestion was a sign of intimacy. Trigovar smiled and said, “As you wish, Your Highness.”

Victor returned to a spot under a fig tree and gestured for the Inquisitor-General to take a seat at the round table. An attendant cleared away the used snacks and replaced them with a fresh plate of newly picked wild fruit.

This fruit closely resembled small apples, with a sour and astringent taste and very little sweetness. Victor could not understand the human world’s reverence for all things “wild.” The advancement of agricultural technology was about turning “wild” things into more nutritious, safer, and more palatable produce. How could wild fruit possibly compare to carefully cultivated varieties?

Victor adjusted his sense of taste and ate a wild fruit. Wiping his hands with a silk kerchief, he smiled at Trigovar. “My lord Lester, there are few foods that can truly delight a High-ranked Knight. A High-ranked Knight can find flavor in any food. I am not a High-ranked Knight, but I hope this wild fruit is to your satisfaction.”

“Your Highness is too modest. I am deeply honored to receive an invitation from the Raging Wind Sword Saint.” The Inquisitor-General smiled freely, his somber, hawk-like aura vanishing completely. After a pause, he continued, “I have brought a gift for Your Highness—my ancestor’s notes regarding the Ant-men and the Assyrian Empire. I hope it is to Your Highness’s satisfaction.”

Victor’s eyes lit up. He nodded and said, “This is exactly what I need… Several years ago, His Excellency Constantine Trigovar—ah, he is a Highness now… At Rose Manor in the Centaur Hills, he briefly recounted the glorious deeds of the Trigovar ancestor who destroyed the Assyrians’ Blood Sacrifice to an evil god. That Highness Trigovar was cursed by the evil god as a result and perished shortly after returning to the human kingdoms.”

“As far as I know, Paladins have a strong resistance to curses, and Gold Knights, with their Semi-elementalization, are practically immune to curse-type Wizardry. Why did the Trigovar ancestor perish so early?”

Lester Trigovar replied, “To be precise, that ancestor died from the erosion of the Elemental Sea… The evil god’s curse plagued him constantly, and even the divine arts of a High-ranked Priest were helpless against it. The ancestor was forced to frequently maintain his Semi-elementalized state. He attempted to break through to the legendary realm but failed due to the persistent curse, and could only return to the origin of the world.”

“…How regrettable.” Victor fell silent for a moment before saying, “For an evil god’s power to directly affect a Gold Knight is exceedingly rare. I trust it paid a heavy price, but did it perish because your ancestor destroyed its altar?”

Trigovar thought for a moment before speaking carefully, “It should not have perished. At least, there are no records in history of an evil god ever perishing… Our Lord merely altered the laws of the world, severing the tight connection between evil gods and Wizards, making their communication intermittent. A single whisper might be broken into several segments, taking over a decade to be fully received. However, my family’s ancestor did destroy the Assyrians’ altar, which severely weakened that evil god’s connection to the physical world.”

“The ancestor was certain of this point,” he stated with conviction.

A difference in the scale of time? That would indeed be the most effective means of obstructing communication between evil gods and Wizards… Victor mused silently. He nodded and said with a faint smile, “My lord Lester is very knowledgeable about Wizards?”

Trigovar was prepared for this. He answered frankly, “Your Highness is a top-tier extraordinary being and understands some of the mysteries of the world’s laws. You should be able to understand the Inquisition’s relationship with Wizards. Controlling them is more practical than purifying them. Of course, such a thing cannot be made public. Although every mortal with normal intelligence is quite clever, the populace as a whole is bound to be foolish. Fools will always drag down the wisdom of the group.”

“If the populace were to accept Wizards, and the Wizards were to openly preach the doctrines of evil gods, the consequences would be unimaginable.”

Victor clapped his hands in praise. “Truly words of wisdom… I will exchange two of my questions for two of yours. Do you agree?”

Seeing the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s eyes shift to dark gold, Trigovar grew vigilant. With a solemn expression, he said, “Your Highness, please ask your questions.”

Victor mulled it over for a moment, then spoke slowly, “I remember when we went to the Northern Wildlands to hunt the Manticore. When we found Vice-commander Strange Testier and his scout squad, the first thing Master Ron said upon seeing the beast tamer was to ask, ‘What about the Sky-Watcher?’”

“The Owl Sky-Watcher was actually a Wizard, and he had a close relationship with Master Ron, correct?”

The Inquisitor-General gave a wry smile. “Your Highness’s insight is as sharp as a torch’s flame. The extraordinary wisdom you displayed while tracking the scout squad left a deep impression on Master Ron. He mentioned the Sky-Watcher in front of you deliberately. In truth, he had already sensed it the moment the Sky-Watcher wizard perished.”

“Clergy from commoner backgrounds can only reach unimaginable heights through fanaticism. But as they embrace the Holy Light with their entire being, they also become especially susceptible to being assimilated by holy power. Master Ron was a fanatic, and the Sky-Watcher wizard was also a fanatic. They were uncle and nephew.”

“His original name is one I am unwilling to speak, so I will refer to him as the Shadow Bishop… When the Shadow Bishop was young, he awakened his talent for Wizardry. Ron was a Sacred Warrior Captain in the Inquisition at the time. He couldn’t accept an Evildoer appearing in his own family, yet he couldn’t bear to watch his brother’s youngest son be Purified. The previous Inquisitor-General likewise did not want Ron’s conviction to be shaken by this matter, leading to him being consumed by the Holy Light. Thus, Ron was made aware of the existence of the Shadow Priests and re-established his conviction.”

Trigovar explained to Victor the origins of the Shadow Priests and their theological theories, then continued, “Ron’s nephew progressed rapidly. He succeeded his own tutor and became the new Shadow Bishop, responsible for tracking down the Wild Wizards scattered throughout the secular kingdoms, finding them, luring them, and controlling them… to form The Shadow Council.”

“The core of The Shadow Council consists entirely of fanatic Wizards from The Theocracy of Ayr. The outer members are the Wild Wizards discovered by the Shadow Bishop… According to the theological theory of the Shadow Priests, they take pride in serving the Supreme Lord. But their fanaticism makes some of them extreme in personality, and their powerful extraordinary abilities make them crave recognition from the Church. They always want to come out and correct certain things… things the fanatics believe are mistakes made by the Church.”

Victor said with a smile, “They can’t stand seeing things they dislike, and they can’t bear the silence.”

Trigovar shook his head and chuckled helplessly. “It is very hard to reason with fanatics about many things… Ron and the Shadow Bishop always maintained contact, and he sympathized with the Shadow Priests. It was precisely because the Shadow Bishop had Master Ron behind him that we never touched him… I never imagined that he and some other radicals would take matters into their own hands and orchestrate this war. Although these fanatic Wizards deliberately led the Centaurs down a path to ruin, they crossed the line.”

“We believe the rebels among the Shadow Priests intended to use this war to contact certain powerful external forces to help them achieve their so-called ideals. After Master Ron and the Shadow Bishop perished, the Inquisition purged the Shadow Priest rebels and all the Wild Wizards in The Shadow Council.”

“Master Ron actually wanted to contact Your Highness on behalf of the Shadow Priests to gain your support.”

Victor asked impassively, “So you’re saying it’s impossible for me to meet the Shadow Bishop or the Shadow Council President?”

Trigovar shook his head and said, “The Shadow Bishop was the Shadow Council President, and he is already dead. This generation’s Shadow Bishop has not yet been trained, so you indeed cannot meet him.”

The Shadow Council President is dead? Then who was responsible for the attack on the church in Watertide Town? Assuming the Shadow Knight is not under the Inquisition’s control, the only way this makes sense is if the Shadow Council President is someone else… Full of suspicion, Victor pondered for a moment before asking, “My second question: How is the papal line of succession handled now?”

Trigovar was suddenly a little embarrassed. The system of succession for the papal line was a taboo secret within the Church. But since His Highness Randell had asked, he thought for a moment and decided to answer. “Regarding the papal line… there are many speculations in the outside world, and they are generally not far from the truth… The Curia provides the Pope with beautiful young priestesses to serve as his handmaidens. Once they become pregnant, they are immediately taken away by the Curia, and the Pope’s offspring are raised as orphans in monasteries. When His Holiness the Pope perishes, the Radiant Knights select one of his descendants, a ceremony is held, and they inherit the Pope’s position. Nachtigal’s Light’s Guard is responsible for protecting the new Pope, and no other institution of the Church can interfere.”

The Curia, the monasteries, the Radiant Knights, and the Light’s Guard are all involved, yet the Pope cannot even see his own children… Would a Spirit Priest truly be so miserable and do nothing?

Victor added another question, “We have our speculations about the papal succession, but this is the first time I’m hearing the details… I assure you that Sylvia and I will not spread this information, as it has nothing to do with us. I’m just curious, if the Pope were to use the Great Divination to designate an heir to oppose the Holy See, how would you handle it?”

“Your Highness, the Great Divination is no small matter. The Pope cannot perform the ritual for the Great Divination alone. Even if he did cast it, every level-six priest near the Holy See would sense it,” Trigovar said with a smile.

The Great Divination draws power from the Pool of Holy Power, so high-ranking clergy would indeed be affected… That way, it would be impossible for the Pope to secretly cast the Great Divination without the Church’s knowledge… Victor suspected Nachtigal of being the Shadow Knight and naturally suspected the Pope as well. But according to Inquisitor-General Trigovar’s description, all the loopholes for the papal line to continue on its own had been sealed. The possibility of him being the Shadow Council President was therefore very small.

“It’s your turn to ask,” Victor said faintly, shifting his thoughts.

Trigovar asked directly, “Your Highness, what do you and Lady Sylvia want in exchange for the rock bricks?”

Victor’s smile vanished. “Whatever we want, I am unwilling to be drawn into the dispute between Baselius and Frederick… Frankly, settling the Sasan Empire’s disagreements is not worth the price of the rock bricks. However, to ensure someone signs the food supply agreement, I can propose a suggestion to both sides. As for whether they will agree, that decision should be left to the northern lords… You may ask your next question.”

His Highness Randell’s reply suggested that Centaur Hills had not yet decided what it wanted, which was within Trigovar’s expectations. He didn’t dwell on it and asked again, “Your Highness, can the Trigoval family owe you a favor?”

Victor’s smile disappeared as he replied seriously, “I have no intention of meddling in the Church’s internal affairs. But since it is a request from a Highness of the Trigoval family, I can present your case to His Holiness the Pope.”

Trigovar was overjoyed. He stood up and gave Victor a Knight’s salute, saying, “The Trigoval family will not forget Your Highness’s assistance.”

“Is Your Highness planning a trip to The Theocracy of Ayr recently?” Trigovar asked with a warm smile.

“Yes, Sylvia sent someone to deliver an invitation from His Holiness the Pope. I plan to make a trip to Eyer soon.” Victor smiled and nodded, then added:

“I hear that this May, the quadrennial Sol Alliance Meeting will be held at the Silver Spire… As a Great Scholar of the Silver Spire, it’s a perfect opportunity for me to witness the ancient Sol Agreement.”

Chapter 700: Prince-Elector

Having secured the support of the Raging Wind Sword Saint, Inquisitor-General Trigovar departed in satisfaction. On the third day after he left Nightingale Manor, the Diocletian family prepared a grand feast to welcome His Highness Randall to Bronze-Halberd City. They invited the Cardinals from the eastern, central, and western dioceses of the Sasan Empire, as well as all powerful lords of Viscount rank and above, which included the Friedrich Imperial Family and the Baselius family.

The Diocletian family’s grand feast was set for five days later. The invited lords dispatched core members of their families, traveling light, and hurried to Bronze-Halberd City for the banquet. They had once avoided the Gold-Eyed Earl like the plague, but now they were afraid of missing this invitation, which was actually initiated by His Highness Randall.

Previously, when Victor and Andria became official partners, the Sasan lords had been unwilling to interact with him frequently, lest they cause a misunderstanding with Blood Wolfhold. With the disappearance of Princess Elizabeth Frederick and Grand Commander Testier’s almost final-sounding declaration that Blood Wolfhold was withdrawing from the front lines of the competition, the Sasan lords had no room to maneuver. They had to choose between the Radiant Knights and the Baselius family.

Such a choice was difficult, and everyone turned their eyes to His Highness Randall, who was lingering at Nightingale Manor. Only he could break the stalemate.

The lords had already made up their minds: if His Highness Randall supported Blood Wolfhold, they would cry foul on behalf of Duke Baselius; if he supported the Iron Mountain Empire, they would throw their full support behind Blood Wolfhold.

In short, this was a dispute between lords and had no need for the Radiant Knights’ intervention.

No matter what choice His Highness Randall made, he would surely be the one to suffer a loss in the end.

No one had expected the Gold-Eyed Earl and Sylvia to throw a wrench in the works that stunned everyone.

Rock brick, this seemingly ordinary building material, was far heavier in the eyes of the various kingdoms’ lords than the Sasan throne itself. The southern kingdoms, in particular, would stand entirely on Victor and Sylvia’s side to obtain the rock brick manufacturing technology—unless the Gambis Kingdom refused to share it. However, Centaur Hills’ introduction of giant brick kilns and iron bricks made it clear they had no intention of monopolizing the technology.

If the southern kingdoms were to master the rock brick technology, the Sasan Empire must acquire it as well. Although the manufacturing techniques could not be kept secret forever, since His Highness Randall was currently in Bronze-Halberd City, the northern lords ought to show an active and enthusiastic attitude. If his price was too high, that was his fault, but if he were to receive a cold reception in the Sasan Empire, that would be the northern lords’ fault.

The grand feast in Bronze-Halberd City was held as scheduled. Due to the vast number of guests, the Diocletian family utilized the Knight’s Halls of the capital city’s fortress and three auxiliary forts simultaneously. In reality, the vast majority of the attending nobles never even saw His Highness Randall. He was meeting with the high-ranked knights of the various Sasan families and the three Archbishops at the Diocletian family’s lord’s manor.

During the banquet, Victor avoided the topic of rock bricks, as if Centaur Hills had only just acquired the technology and had not yet decided what to do with it. He expressed concern over the dispute between the two great northern imperial families, listened to their differing opinions, and amidst the heated arguments, proposed a “Prince-Elector system.”

The so-called Prince-Electors would consist of five imperial heirs jointly nominated by the two imperial families and the Church. The lords of Earl rank and above in the Sasan Empire would then vote to elect one of them as emperor for a term of thirty years. The Prince-Electors had to hail from either the Baselius family or the Frederick family, and High-ranked Knights were excluded. If an Elector who became emperor advanced to Extraordinary Knight during their reign, they would automatically abdicate, and a new emperor would be elected. Even if a Prince-Elector from the Baselius side ascended the throne, the empire’s title could not be changed—he could only be the Sasan Emperor.

The Prince-Elector system bore some resemblance to the rotating rule of the Borrey United Kingdom, but the differences were more pronounced. It was, one might say, something new.

First was the qualification. The Baselius family gained the same right to be elected as the Frederick family, which represented the formal recognition of their imperial status by the Church and the secular lords. This granted them undeniable legitimacy and laid a crucial cornerstone for the restoration of the Iron Mountain Empire.

Second were the voting rights. The centrist Sasan lords had previously been caught between currying favor with Blood Wolfhold and secretly associating with the Baselius family, getting squeezed from both sides. With voting rights, the central lords, including the Teutonic Duchy, would gain greater political space. Not only could they elect the emperor, but they could also weaken imperial power and further strengthen the actual power of the Noble Senate.

Throughout the process, from selecting candidates to electing the emperor, the Church did not seem to be directly involved, but their supervision, confirmation, and coordination were present from start to finish. This avoided sharp confrontation between divine authority and the secular lords, yet it enhanced the Church’s actual influence and the benefits that came with it.

The only sacrifice in all of this was the Frederick family. The late Emperor and Grand Duke had died heroically in the war against the beastmen, winning the Frederick family the most widespread popular support. The vassal soldier class of the Sasan Empire universally revered Blood Wolfhold. If Blood Wolfhold were to stir up a wave of public opinion among the tens of millions of the populace, the subjects of the Empire could drown the Baselius family in condemnation, or at the very least, put enormous pressure on the Church. This was the main reason why the Radiant Knights and Patriarch Flidis were so resolutely opposed to the restoration of the Iron Mountain Empire.

Waging a war of public opinion was a “table-flipping” move; Blood Wolfhold would not play this trump card unless they were desperate. However, Crown Prince Siegfried and Princess Freya never had a chance to ascend to the throne in the first place; the Radiant Knights supported Princess Elizabeth Frederick.

Although that high-blooded princess had disappeared, the alliance between Zieg and Freya had also dissolved. The Prince-Elector system gave each of them a separate opportunity.

The emperor’s term was thirty years, and he was not allowed to advance to Silver Knight. Given the popular support for the late emperor, the Bronze-rank Siegfried would most likely be elected Sasan Emperor. However, he would have to step down before his thirty-year term was over, unless he gave up on advancing to Silver Knight. Freya was not qualified to become a Prince-Elector, but she could arrange a marriage alliance with a great family, have children, and nominate her own descendants to become the next emperor.

Such an emperor would certainly feel stifled, but the Frederick family would at least preserve the dignity of the imperial family, and that was of the utmost importance. Supposing that decades in the future, the Westdon Pioneer Fief were to become the great breadbasket of the empire, it was highly likely that Sasan and Iron Mountain would split into two empires. During this transitional period, the Friedrich Imperial Family could rally the people and preserve the legacy of the Sasan Empire.

For a time, the Prince-Elector system became a hot topic of discussion among the Sasan nobles. Some supported it, some opposed it, and scholars debated endlessly, while the instigator, His Highness Randall, had already embarked on his journey to the Theocracy of Ayr.

He chose to travel east from the Westdon Pioneer Fief, reach the Gate of Death at Giantstone Fortress, and then head south through the Kingdom of Naville to enter the Theocracy of Ayr.

This route was quicker than detouring through the Dodor Kingdom and saved the time that would have been spent socializing with the lords along the way. Its only drawback was that it required crossing a vast, flat wilderness with no proper roads or supply points.

Fortunately, after the Centaurs’ eastward migration, this vast and fertile plain was teeming with herds of wild bison, wild sheep, and red deer. Small animals like wild rabbits and ground-rats, with their astonishing reproductive rates, were even more numerous. The population of predatory beasts had not yet recovered, so Victor’s convoy was not short of food.

At dusk, the convoy stopped on a flat patch of ground, forming a circle. The Swift Dragon Knights who had been out hunting returned to the temporary camp with their prey. The retinue lit several bonfires and began to prepare dinner and rest. As the sky grew dark, the aroma of roasting meat drifted through the camp. Victor and Gillian dismounted from their carriage and walked over to one of the bonfires.

“It smells so good…” Gillian waved a hand, fanning the fragrant aroma of the roast meat toward herself, and said with delight. In the glow of the bonfire, her face became even more enchantingly beautiful.

On this trip to the Theocracy of Ayr, Sophia had not come along. Victor was accompanied only by Gillian, much to Young Lady Chapman’s satisfaction.

“Master, please try this roasted lamb chop… Aka’s skills have improved again.” Charlotte, with her blonde hair and green eyes, offered a plate of roasted meat and took the opportunity to sit down beside Victor’s shoulder, assuming a gentle, sweet, and charming posture. Gillian had monopolized Victor for three full days and nights, and Charlotte was very displeased about it.

In the past, Judy and Gillian had a seemingly good relationship, but it was just a facade. When the frail and beautiful Lady Judy transformed into the powerful senior knight Charlotte, she began to grow jealous of all of Victor’s female knight lovers, with the exception of the sisters Lilia and Elina.

Compared to Charlotte’s barbs hidden in velvet, Gillian was still a pure, white flower. She had advanced to Silver rank too early and was considered a minor in the eyes of Extraordinary Knights. Most High-ranked Knights would first marry and have children, enriching their life experience, and only consider the matter of advancement after the age of forty.

However, it is a woman’s Nature to vie for the affection of a powerful and noble partner. Moreover, Young Lady Chapman was used to being arrogant. She snatched the roasted meat Charlotte was offering Victor, swapped it with her own plate for him, and shot Charlotte a look with a raised, slender eyebrow. Then she turned to Victor with a brilliant smile and said, “Let me see if Aka’s roasted lamb chops have really improved.”

Charlotte lowered her head, her lovely red lips pouting slightly, displaying a perfectly calculated sense of grievance. Her gentle and quiet posture was enough to evoke pity.

With the two women engaged in a rivalry for his affection, Victor felt a bit of a headache coming on. He coughed and said to Gillian, “My dear, would you like to join the York family? I can secure a barony for you, no less than five thousand square kilometers, and arrange for eight thousand tenant households. I’ll also give you fifty thousand Gold Sols in funds and waive the lord’s tax for three years. How about it?”

Gillian ate the lamb chop, performing a Chapman-esque bone-breaking, marrow-sucking display. She then licked the bone clean, wiped the corner of her mouth with a handkerchief, gave Victor a scornful smile, and shook her head. “No deal. I am the heir of the Chapman family. I will one day inherit the title of Marchioness and rule over a vast territory. Do you think you can trick me away with a mere barony? Do you take me for a fool?”

Victor chuckled and asked, “As the future Marchioness Chapman, why don’t you tell me, what benefits does this Prince-Elector system have for us?”

Gillian shook her head. “No benefits. All the benefits were reaped by the central lords of the Sasan Empire. The Prince-Electors from the Frederick and Baselius families will certainly have to bribe them if they want to become emperor.”

Victor looked at the resentful Young Lady Chapman in surprise, then nodded with a smile. “That’s right. The neutral lords will be welcomed by both families, so they can naturally reap benefits. However, the Prince-Elector system will exacerbate the political division among the northern lords, lower administrative efficiency, greatly weaken imperial power, and strengthen the authority of the Senate. This means… we can also spend money to buy off the neutral lords and seek greater benefits… for example, low grain prices.”

Gillian’s eyes lit up. “That’s right! We can buy them off too! How much of a reduction in grain prices would be appropriate?”

“You don’t need to worry about that. The Wimbledon Merchant Association is responsible for purchasing and selling grain. I proposed the Prince-Elector system only so that there would be someone to sign the trade agreement.”

The Prince-Elector system had its pros and cons. When the northern lords needed it, the loose imperial alliance could last for centuries. When they no longer needed it, the northern lords would quickly split into two empires. It offered a high degree of flexibility but also contained numerous loopholes that could be exploited, which opened up a favorable situation for The Golden Company’s infiltration.

Most importantly, by proposing the Prince-Elector system, Victor had not offended either royal family. He had not fallen into their trap or incurred a debt of gratitude.

A favor from the Raging Wind Sword Saint was very precious, after all.

The northern lords could coexist under the loose Prince-Elector system, and it was best for the Inquisition, which now owed His Highness Randall a favor, to remain under the Trigoval family’s control.

Pope Clement had his own ideas about the Inquisition, but the Curia was not solely controlled by his faction of the clergy. Although Clement was an ally of Centaur Hills, and Victor and Sylvia regarded his clerical faction as the York family’s agent in the Church, there was one matter Victor still needed to confirm with him—the matter of the Great Divination that had involved King Ryan Auguste and the Sidon Centaurs.

Chapter 701: A Story (Part 1)

The full name of the Theocracy of Ayr is the Holy Kingdom of Aidaqier. Its history can be traced back to the Era of the Chosen, making it the oldest of the human kingdoms to this day.

The subjects of Ayr are basically all clergy and their descendants, and the religious atmosphere is particularly strong. When pedestrians on the road saw the long caravan of a great noble, they didn’t stop to watch and doff their hats in salute, unlike the commoners of the Gambis Kingdom. Some children would curiously chase after the bizarrely shaped and ugly six-legged Swift Dragons, only to be quickly pulled away by their parents.

The commoners Victor saw, regardless of age, were all dressed in a similar fashion. The men wore gray robes of coarse flax, tied at the waist with a white rope; the women wore identical coarse-cloth dresses, their hair wrapped in white kerchiefs. It was difficult to distinguish their status from their attire alone, but Victor knew that nearly every family in the Theocracy of Ayr had clergy members. Though most were low-ranked Sacred Warriors, they were still extraordinary beings.

Compared to the elite soldiers of other kingdoms, Ayr’s army was composed entirely of extraordinary beings.

If the Lord of Radiance was the ultimate creation of the ancient Alchemical Empire, His divine status would be countless times stronger than the Alchemy Tower… Such immense power—what price would it exact? And who would bear that price…? Victor gazed out the carriage window at the lush green wheat fields beside the road, his thoughts adrift.

“My dear, that’s the Holy City.” Charlotte, dressed in a spider silk dress, let out a soft exclamation, leaning into Victor’s embrace. “It’s so magnificent, so beautiful,” she marveled.

The distant view of a city appeared outside the window. It was built into a mountain, its levels distinct. With her eyesight, Charlotte couldn’t actually make out the city’s full panorama, but the Holy City held an exceptionally special place in the hearts of the nobility. This was also Charlotte’s first time visiting the Holy City, and she had long imagined it to be a place of beauty, prosperity, peace, and sanctity.

Because the Church forbade commoner believers from making pilgrimages, the Theocracy of Ayr had no refugee population. Even the few commoners present were servants accompanying nobles or caravans, and they were not permitted to wander freely without their masters’ permission. Most importantly, the Eyer Holy City was far from the ravages of war. Having undergone several thousand years of peaceful development, it had no thick city walls or towering fortresses, nor did it have the filth-strewn, chaotic shantytowns with overflowing sewage.

Most of the buildings here were made of stone, their outer walls coated with fine sand, making them colorful and bright. Every house was decorated with carvings, small statues, flower racks, and white stone pillars, creating an artistic atmosphere that radiated the light of civilization. The streets were teeming with people, but there were no beast-drawn carriages to be seen, only some rickshaws carrying well-dressed, handsome nobles. The crowd could be roughly divided into two types: people from the secular kingdoms and residents of the Holy City.

Knight-Nobles and commoners walking on the same street was a unique feature of the Eyer Holy City. It was said that the shops here were open to everyone. Unlike in the Gambis Kingdom, where nobles never needed to go out shopping, the Holy City was the only city where nobles were interested in making purchases themselves. Although the goods sold in the shops were expensive, they included a collection of unique luxury items from all the kingdoms. Seeing this bustling street, even Victor felt the urge to get out of the carriage and stroll around.

However, Silver-rank Knights could mingle with the crowd and enjoy the rare pleasure of shopping, but Gold-rank extraordinary beings could not. The public order regulations of the Holy City’s commercial streets did not apply to them. To prevent commoners from unintentionally offending a Highness and meeting a disastrous end, Gold Knights had to proactively avoid crowds, and even Grand Commander Testier was no exception.

Victor rang the carriage bell, bringing the caravan to a halt on the main road outside the city. He and Charlotte stepped out of the carriage and glanced at the tall white tower rising in the northwest corner of the city. That had once been the city’s center. After the people of Ayr expanded the Holy City, the Wizard’s Tower, which symbolized the status of the Chosen, had become the present-day sanctuary for scholars.

His extraordinary vision allowed Victor to see the details of the Silver Spire from several kilometers away. Its surface showed no signs of carving or assembly; it was a complete, unbelievable whole, and it remained the tallest building in the city to this day. The Radiant Cathedral, built halfway up the Radiant Holy Mountain, was finally a bit taller than the Silver Spire, and further up from the Radiant Cathedral was the Pope’s palace.

As Victor withdrew his gaze, Gillian stepped down from another carriage. Her beautiful hair was coiled up, and she wore a red lady’s hunting attire paired with high-heeled boots, which outlined her alluring curves and long, straight legs. She was strong yet graceful, cold yet enchanting.

“My dear, take me to buy presents! I’ll be in charge of picking, and you’ll be in charge of paying!” Gillian ran over, took Victor’s arm, and said with a smile as radiant as a blooming flower.

“Gillian, I’d be happy to accompany you to pick out gifts, but I already have an appointment with His Holiness, Pope Clement.”

Victor smiled faintly and turned to Charlotte. “You can accompany Miss Chapman into the city to buy gifts in my place.”

Gillian spun lightly on her toes, linked arms with Charlotte, and held out her hand to Victor. “Money.”

“Eight thousand Gold Sols. It’s all for you. Buy whatever you like,” Victor said generously, taking out a pouch full of Purple Gold Coins.

Gillian’s charming phoenix eyes sparkled. She snatched the pouch from Victor’s hand, tucked it into her pocket, and excitedly pulled Charlotte toward the city streets.

Prices in the Holy City were exorbitant, especially for goods sold to nobles; eight thousand gold coins couldn’t actually buy much. Gillian was both stingy and avaricious—once the pouch entered her pocket, one couldn’t expect her to spend a single gold coin. If Victor had given the pouch to Charlotte, Gillian would surely have found a way to spend every last cent, and then she would have complained that Victor was cheap, because she hadn’t managed to buy any real gifts.

Eight thousand gold coins, given away just like that, simply to make Gillian happy. Victor recalled his past hardships, and a smile involuntarily touched his lips.

The two ladies, with their attendants in tow, crossed the carriage road and entered the streets of the Holy City. Victor returned to his carriage, and the caravan continued south along the main road outside the city.

The arrival of the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s carriage in the Holy City was a grand affair. Victor had to first visit the manor of Pope Clement before entering the city proper. As for the Holy City’s Radiant Cathedral, it was divided into two parts, an upper and a lower. The cathedral halfway up the mountain was the seat of the Holy See. With his current status, Victor was not permitted to visit it; he could only pray and worship at the church at the foot of the mountain. He would only be qualified to go to the Holy See for his investiture if he were to be canonized as a Saint by the Church.

The caravan drove to the distant outskirts and entered a secluded, scenic valley where the Pope’s manor was located. Victor disembarked from his carriage and saw the Pope, dressed in casual clothes, standing outside the manor gate. Beside him was the bald, eyebrow-less Tournans. The First Sacred Warrior was surprisingly not wearing his Bishop’s robes today, but a full suit of hide armor.

“Your Holiness, good day.” Victor led Narsen, Caligula, and the two high-ranked Knights from Gambis, Erix and Terlanden, forward to greet the Pope.

Clement nodded with a warm smile and said gently, “Your Highness, welcome to my home.”

Victor was just about to exchange pleasantries with Tournans when the bald Sacred Warrior looked up, glared at Caligula, and said sternly, “Aka, come. Let’s find a place and have a little match.”

“Aka doesn’t fight. Aka is a good boy…” Caligula waved both hands and tried to hide behind Narsen, his silly, fearful expression practically saying that Tournans was the bad boy.

Everyone couldn’t help but chuckle. Victor nodded with a smile and instructed, “The brave Aka isn’t afraid of a challenge. You all go along and observe.”

Hearing his master’s praise, Aka immediately puffed out his chest, immensely proud. A Legendary Sacred Warrior wanted to test his skills against Caligula—everyone present was thrilled. They all started jeering playfully, praising Aka to the heavens as they thronged around him and Tournans, heading for the martial arts arena. Victor and Clement, accompanied by their attendants, walked toward the manor’s main building.

The distance from the manor gate to the Pope’s residence was a full two kilometers, a distance for which a regular noble would require a carriage. But Victor and Clement would not feel tired even after walking more than ten kilometers. They strolled side-by-side, the fields on both sides of the path filled with fruits, vegetables, and wheat, where farmers were hard at work.

“My manor cannot compare to Silver Moon Manor,” Clement said with a laugh. “The subjects of the Kingdom of Ayr are all descendants of the God-favored. If you look at it from the perspective of secular family concepts, some families of Ayr’s subjects can be traced back several thousand years, making them truly ancient families. However, the clergy address each other as brothers and sisters and don’t have a strict concept of family. After four generations, members of the same family generally have no more contact with one another.”

“The Kingdom of Ayr is far from war, and there are few monsters or fierce beasts within its borders. The populace lives and works in peace, and population growth has always been stable. Aside from selecting Sacred Warriors from among the kingdom’s subjects to send to the dioceses of various nations, the Holy See also has some who go out to make a living as craftsmen. But even so, land in the Theocracy of Ayr is becoming increasingly precious. Land that can be used to grow grain must be used for grain, and my manor is no exception.”

“The new agropastoral system you invented has doubled the grain production of the Kingdom of Ayr. As for the population control strategy you proposed, that is expressly forbidden in the Theocracy of Ayr.”

“Your Highness’s wisdom is extraordinary. Do you have any good suggestions for Ayr’s agricultural land problem?”

The populace of Ayr has generally received a literary education and learned some basic martial skills. Their skilled craftsmen are world-renowned; after all, the Church collects the tithe, and materials from all the kingdoms converge in Ayr, requiring craftsmen to process them. In addition, Ayr has outstanding Physicians, beast tamers, painters, smiths, and other rare talents. The first suit of Adamantine armor Nicole received after her promotion to Knight was personally crafted by a famous craftsman from the Eyer Holy City at Master Edwin’s request, at a cost of exactly eight thousand Gold Sols.

Thanks to their connections with the resident priests everywhere, the subjects of the Kingdom of Ayr actually have no lack of opportunities. Those with a special skill receive preferential treatment from lords.

“I think we could divert a portion of the population externally. I guarantee that the Centaur Hills would be willing to accept Ayr’s subjects, and we would at least grant them the status of a liege’s subjects,” Victor said in all seriousness.

Clement was taken aback for a moment, then shook his head and laughed, “What kind of suggestion is that? I’ve already arranged for more than two hundred general education teachers for the Centaur Hills. Including their families, that’s over a thousand people. You still think that’s not enough?”

Victor laughed, “Of course, the more general education teachers, the better… This time, the southern migration of Sasan refugees reached a scale of over five hundred thousand people. We in the Centaur Hills need to settle one hundred thousand of them. Turning them into tenant households will require opening more schools for general education. The two hundred-odd teachers Your Holiness has arranged for us are definitely not enough.”

“I can’t help you with that… Patriarch Flidis is currently dispatching subjects from Ayr to the Westdon Pioneer Fief to help the northern lords convert their tenant households. He and Tamor are arguing incessantly over this matter… It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to interfere,” Clement said as they walked.

A few years ago, when Sophia led the barbarians south, the Gambis Kingdom established its strategy of expansion south of the river, thus ushering in a new era of territorial expansion for the human kingdoms. Patriarch Flidis was overseeing the northern expansion, while Patriarch Tamor wanted to oversee the southern expansion. However, the dioceses of the two great southern kingdoms, Gambis and Borui, were all under Clement’s control, and the Naville Royal Family, which could only expand north, had always been a staunch ally of the Pope. The Pope’s faction of priests could not only preside over church affairs in the south but also intervene in the north, which greatly displeased Tamor and Flidis. Feeling immense pressure from both powers, Clement made a decisive move. He surrendered the two major southern dioceses of Gambis and Borui to Tamor, retaining only the diocesan authority in Naville, the Warton Great Plains, and the Centaur Hills.

Victor was aware of these matters. However, the Pope was the nominal leader of the Church. The fact that he was avoiding a direct confrontation with the other two Patriarchs was somewhat hard to believe.

Clement was subtly explaining that the clergy of the Pope’s faction were under pressure from the other two Patriarchs and needed external support to have more room to maneuver.

The Pope only mentioned it briefly and didn’t continue the topic. He joked and laughed with Victor as they arrived before the main residence. A beautiful woman with a dignified air, leading two children, was waiting at the door. When she saw Victor, she curtsied and said, “My lord Earl, welcome to our home.”

As far as Victor knew, Clement had four partners. The features and proportions of the woman before him were nearly perfect, and her blue eyes held a faint reddish-brown glint. She was undoubtedly Clement’s legal wife, Melissa, a noblewoman from the Klocher Paladin family, a senior knight, and a rank 5 priest.

Speaking of which, Melissa was also the Sasan Empress’s older sister. This made Clement and the Frederick family related by marriage, but noble priests of the Church were required to renounce their families. The current Pope had no connection whatsoever to the Sasan Imperial Family.

“My Lady Melissa, it is my honor to meet you,” Victor said politely with a slight bow.

“Please, come in, Your Excellency Sword Saint.” Clement picked up the little girl beside Melissa, took the slightly older boy by the hand, and led Victor inside.

The Pope’s residence seemed shabby and small compared to Victor’s Silver Moon Manor, but it was filled with the warmth of a family home. The furnishings inside were not necessarily exquisite or expensive, but each had its own character. For example, a wooden shortsword of very crude workmanship was placed on a silver stand in the most conspicuous spot by the entrance, as if it were a priceless treasure.

Clement noticed Victor looking at the small wooden sword. He pointed to the little boy beside him and introduced, “Mavi’s first creation. When he was five, he personally selected the materials and spent three days finishing it all by himself. I consider it the pride of our family.”

He walked to the sofa and sat down, placing the little girl, who looked to be only four and was as lovely as a porcelain doll, on his lap. He gestured for Victor to sit and said with a smile, “This is also my treasure. Kasha, four years old, my second daughter’s child. Mavi, seven years old, my eldest grandson.”

Clement was nearly eighty years old, but he looked like a man of forty. Hearing him introduce his grandson and granddaughter, Victor felt a strange sensation. If all went as expected, he himself would live to see his own sixth-generation grandson, yet he would still have the appearance of a youth.

The Pope, sensing Victor’s thoughts, said teasingly, “Last winter, Patriarch Tamor personally presided over Linobia’s baptismal ceremony. He praised your and Catherine’s daughter as being very beautiful and very cute. You should be able to see her when you return to Gambis.”

Victor shook his head, his smile tinged with regret. “I often miss her. It’s a pity I couldn’t be there to see her born, or to take her to receive Patriarch Tamor’s baptism.”

Clement laughed heartily. “Victor, I believe you will be a good father… compared to other Gold Knights, of course.”

“I… I won’t make things difficult for Catherine,” the Raging Wind Sword Saint said, as if deflated after a long internal struggle.

My Lady Melissa brought over a plate of snacks and placed it on the coffee table. She sat down beside Clement and suggested with a gentle smile, “Your Highness could prepare some stories. When Catherine allows you to visit your daughter, tell them to her. She’ll grow to like you very quickly.”

Victor paused, then shrugged. “Stories? Then I should give it some thought and collect some exciting and interesting ones.”

“Your Highness’s own legendary experiences are excellent story material. My Mavi here worships you quite a bit,” Clement said jokingly.

The little boy was a bit shy under Victor’s gaze, but he mustered his courage and said, “Lord Sword Saint, they all say you have golden eyes.”

“Is that so?”

Victor’s dark eyes turned to a shade of dark gold. A mystical spiritual power quietly spread out, and his extraordinary handsomeness was like that of a god’s son. He blinked, and his eyes immediately reverted to their deep, cold black.

The Raging Wind Sword Saint’s spiritual power was not something a child could withstand. While it wouldn’t cause direct harm like Sylvia’s, it would leave an indelible impression on the child’s mind.

After Victor slightly indulged the child’s curiosity, Mavi immediately grew much bolder. He asked excitedly, “My lord, how many powerful monsters have you killed?”

“That… I can’t quite remember.”

In truth, Victor remembered very clearly; it would just be troublesome to recount them one by one.

Mavi looked at Victor with sympathy and began to show off, “My lord killed a Savage Gnoll in the Centaur Hills and awakened his Wind Walk talent; he dealt with a terrifying Old Ogre with Baron Phoenix and took its head in the forest; during the Ant-man plague, my lord shot countless Ant-man monsters, and many of them were Silver-rank Ant-man chiefs; my lord also killed six Bugbears with one strike in the Gloomy Forest, saving many people from the Goblin Frenzy crisis… Naville’s Windfang Gnoll died at my lord’s hands; and also the East Pioneer Fief’s Ogre Warlord, the Bear-monster Elder, the Gold-rank Gnoll Chieftain…”

“Actually, the story I like listening to the most is when my lord went deep into the Warton Great Plains and slayed the Centaur Great Khan.” Mavi said a great deal all at once, then sighed and asked expectantly, “My lord, can you tell me the story of hunting the Centaur Great Khan?”

The little admirer’s eyes were clear, giving Victor quite a headache. He thought for a moment, then said with a smile, “I can’t tell those stories any more excitingly than a Bard could… Mavi, how about I tell you a story I heard when I was a child?”

“Oh, yes! Yes! Kasha loves stories from when people were little!” the Pope’s granddaughter clapped her chubby little hands and shouted happily.

“This is a story about wishes and fate…”

Chapter 702: A Story (Part 2)

“A long, long time ago, in an age even more ancient than the era of Wizards…”

“My lord, what era came before the era of Wizards?” little Mavi asked curiously. The Raging Wind Sword Saint’s easygoing attitude made him feel approachable, like an experienced older brother returning from a long journey. Once the initial unfamiliarity faded, he was quite likable.

“Mavi, no more interruptions, or I’ll punish you by making you muck out the stables,” Lady Melissa warned Mavi, before placing another pastry into Kasha’s hand.

The little girl focused on enjoying her snack, forgetting all about voicing her own opinion. She actually wanted to go muck out the stables with her brother.

“The story is fictional. If you have too many questions, I won’t tell it,” Victor said, smiling at the two children before continuing.

“In the remote countryside of a certain human kingdom lived a family. The father and mother lived in the mountains, tending sheep for the village head, while their only son worked in a mine outside the village. One rainy and snowy season, the son who had been working away from home for a long time finally returned for a reunion with his parents. But he was not alone; he had brought an uninvited guest.”

“It was a man over fifty, with a sparse gray beard and eyes of the same gray hue. He looked haggard, but he was tall and strong. His clothes were stained with blood, and he carried a two-handed battleaxe. The father and mother were terrified of this man. Living in a remote area was a terrible thing. Aside from a pitchfork, they had no prompt protection from the militia. If this strong man was a robber, their whole family would be killed.”

“The son quickly explained the situation. It turned out that on his way home, he had encountered a pack of wolves, and this adventurer had saved his life from their hungry jaws. Only after the son showed them the corpses of two wild wolves did the father and mother lower their guard and invite the adventurer into their home to take shelter from the rain for the night.”

“To show their gratitude for saving their only son, the shepherd and his wife hosted him warmly, preparing hot lamb stew and bread, and even bringing out their home-brewed fruit wine. During the cold and damp Season of Water, nothing was more yearned for by an adventurer than a warm cabin—unless it was a warm cabin with a hot meal and a jug of fine wine.”

“With a full stomach and after drinking three large cups of home-brewed fruit wine, the adventurer was content. He sat in a chair near the hearth and talked garrulously. The family of three was fascinated by the guest’s adventures and gathered around him, listening to him recount his experiences in the wilderness and his own heroic deeds.”

“This older adventurer was well-traveled, or perhaps he was just a braggart. He said he had been to the distant lands of the non-humans and had seen the Rotellians… an intelligent non-human species with blue skin and four arms. They were skilled with four sharp, long scimitars and could easily slice a bull wild bison to pieces. The adventurer and his companions had accidentally stumbled into a Rotellian temple and stolen a sacred object that was enshrined there.”

“Pursued by Rotellian four-scimitar warriors, the adventurer and his companions fought desperately, drenched in blood, until they finally broke through the encirclement and returned to the human kingdoms.”

“The shepherd’s son listened, entranced, and couldn’t help but ask the adventurer, ‘Did all your companions die in battle? Why were you lost around here all by yourself?’”

“The adventurer said nothing, his expression turning unnatural. The shepherd was now certain the guest was boasting; a powerful adventurer wouldn’t be in such a sorry state. However, the story he told was indeed exciting, and the shepherd and his wife were willing to keep listening. They had lived in the mountains for years and felt lonely, eager to hear someone speak of the outside world. The shepherd changed the subject and asked the adventurer, ‘What is this sacred object of the Rotellians?’”

“The adventurer was silent for a moment before taking a nondescript stone from his pocket and telling his hosts that this was the sacred object from the Rotellian temple.”

“By this point, even the shepherd’s son began to suspect that his savior was a braggart. Out of politeness and fear, the shepherd’s wife asked, ‘What does this sacred object do?’”

Hearing this, Mavi lowered his head and covered his mouth with his hands so Lady Melissa wouldn’t see, whispering, “I bet that adventurer isn’t a liar.”

Everyone couldn’t help but chuckle. Victor smiled faintly and continued, “The adventurer told them that the Rotellians’ sacred object was in fact the Goblin King’s Wishing Gem, capable of granting one wish to anyone. All one had to do was hold the Wishing Gem in both hands and make a wish in silence, and it would come true.”

Little Mavi quickly hid his clasped hands behind his back and snuck a glance at his grandmother. Seeing that she hadn’t noticed his small movement, he relaxed and continued listening to the story.

“After the adventurer finished speaking, the glare in his eyes made the shepherd’s family realize that their soft laughter had displeased him. The shepherd’s son wisely followed up by asking what kind of wish the adventurer had made.”

“He just wanted the topic to continue so as to satisfy the adventurer’s love for boasting. The shepherd’s family had already prepared themselves to listen and be amazed, but the adventurer’s face began to turn pale. He calmly stated that he had already made his wish and didn’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“This, however, piqued the shepherd’s wife’s curiosity. She took a roundabout approach and asked if anyone else had made a wish, such as the companions the adventurer had mentioned.”

“‘They’re all dead.’ The adventurer was silent for a long while before a hoarse voice squeezed through his gritted teeth. The look on his face was strange; though his expression was calm, it conveyed a sense of desolation, regret, and also fear.”

“I know, the adventurer must be a High-ranked Knight,” little Mavi exclaimed. This time, Lady Melissa did not threaten him with the punishment of mucking out the stables.

Victor continued, “The adventurer suddenly threw the Wishing Gem into the hearth. The shepherd’s first instinct was to use a pair of iron tongs to retrieve it. Unconsciously, the shepherd’s family had begun to believe the Wishing Gem was real, perhaps because they had wishes that couldn’t be fulfilled. The shepherd said that if the guest didn’t want the Wishing Gem, he might as well give it to them.”

“The adventurer said nothing and soon announced his departure, ignoring the host’s polite attempts to make him stay, and disregarding the dark night and freezing rain outside. Before he left, he warned the shepherd’s family that the wisest choice would be to throw the stone away.”

“After the guest left, the family of three breathed a sigh of relief. They mocked the adventurer in various ways, saying he was a liar who had to run away because he couldn’t keep his story straight. However, the matter of the wish sprouted in the shepherd’s heart like wild grass in spring. He said jokingly, ‘I want a full bag of gold,’ and at that moment, his hands were clenched tightly around the Wishing Gem.”

“And then? Did a bag of gold appear?” Mavi asked, staring at the Raging Wind Sword Saint with an eager expression.

“No, nothing happened.” Victor shook his head, shrugging as he added, “At least, the bag of gold didn’t magically appear on the table, in a cabinet, or under the bed… The shepherd’s family soon forgot about the wish. The following Season of Earth, the son returned to work in the village mine, just as he did every year. Their lives seemed to have changed very little.”

“But, a dozen or so days later, the village head came. He told the shepherd and his wife that when the town mayor was inspecting the mine, he accidentally fell and was in peril. Their son, in an attempt to save the town mayor, fell to the bottom of the mine himself and died of his grievous injuries. The shepherd and his wife were devastated. The village head offered a few words of comfort, left behind a full bag of gold, and then departed.”

“And that’s the end of the story.”

The room fell into a brief silence. Little Kasha, sitting on the Pope’s lap, said in a clear, crisp voice, “This story isn’t fun.”

“It’s really not very fun,” Mavi muttered under his breath, shaking his head in imitation of an adult.

“Mavi, have you forgotten my warning? Go muck out the stables!” Lady Melissa stood up, grabbed the little boy by his ear, and walked towards the door.

Four-year-old Kasha immediately jumped off her grandfather’s lap, running and laughing happily, “Muck out the stables, we’re going to muck out the stables…”

Only Victor and Clement were left in the living room. After a moment, the Pope nodded and commented, “A very brilliant story… The changes brought about by a single wish are all unknown.”

Victor smiled without a word, his gaze reserved. The Pope pondered for a few seconds before finally saying, “I admit, I was the one who cast the Great Divination regarding the Blackhoof tribe… but I could neither see nor stop the changes it brought about, including the perishing of Ryan Auguste… I did not want things to turn out this way, but there is nothing to regret… Gambis lost a King, but gained a Raging Wind Sword Saint.”

Victor stood up and performed a salute with a hand over his chest. “Thank you, Your Holiness, for telling me the truth and resolving my confusion. The Auguste family had always believed that His Holiness the Pope conspired with Nachtigal to cast the Great Divination, leading to the late King’s demise.”

Clement nodded and asked, “Your story describes the changes of fate. Do you wish to understand the last Great Divination for the sake of the Auguste family, or for the Raging Wind Sword Saint himself?”

Victor said solemnly, “For myself.”

“You are not a Legendary Priest. It’s difficult for me to explain to you what the Great Divination is like.”

Clement frowned. Sun Elves were already Legendary creatures of a higher order, possessing their own unique favor from fate. But for the Raging Wind Sword Saint, who was unwilling to bear the destiny of the Elves, this was instead a burden. Clement had not been optimistic about Victor’s resistance before. Even the Church’s Great Divination could not solve his problem. A Spirit Knight’s personal willpower could suppress it for a time, but after Sylvia perishes, Victor would inevitably have to follow the example of Sword Saint Draven and head to the Endless Forest in search of his elven kin.

However, Victor’s strange ability to control the color of his eyes showed that his determined will was bearing fruit. Clement could not understand the mysteries behind it, but he was willing to lend him a hand.

“Wishes and fate… that already touches upon the key points of Great Divination.” The Pope nodded and continued, “Hoping for things to change in the direction of a wish will inevitably come at a price. Even for something as simple as drinking water, one must first pick up the cup.”

“Simple wishes are easy to fulfill. The more difficult the wish, the greater the fluctuation in fate. To drink water yourself, you just need to pick up the cup. If you ask a servant to fetch water, the water he brings back might be laced with poison.”

Victor blinked, interjecting, “Your Holiness means… a loophole?”

“A crack,” Clement added. “A crack in fate… Great Divination is not a divine art in the usual sense. It is a ritual, and the entire process may take more than a decade to complete. I cast the Great Divination against the Black-hoof Centaurs with the initial wish of causing their decline. First, I must see the changes of the future so that the ritual can be completed step-by-step to achieve the initial wish. The future I saw was like a river surface covered in ice floes, with each floe representing a possible future. When I saw the ice floe of the Black-hoof Centaurs’ fated decline, I had to carefully pick a path to that floe through the cracks. But no matter how I chose, the other ice floes of fate would collide with one another due to the changes in the cracks, and are thus altered.”

“All I could do was minimize the impact of the changes. Even so, I couldn’t see all the ice floes of fate. For example, Adam Neo Wester’s quiet advancement into the legendary realm… For the original wish, this in itself was not a bad thing, so the Great Divination did not reveal this particular ice floe to me.”

“The burden of the wish is immense. I only prophesied the decline of the Black-hoof Centaur tribe; I would never directly prophesy Orogar’s death, as that would increase the difficulty of the prophecy’s fulfillment. In the Great Divination, I saw the inevitability of the battle at Whitewater Fortress; that was the price the prophecy required. As a result, Sylvia’s identity was exposed. Fortunately so, otherwise the Auguste family and Sylvia would have most likely seized the opportunity to annex the Dodor Kingdom, and Lord Sasan would have had no mind for pestering the Black-hoof Centaurs.”

Victor pondered for a moment, then asked tactfully, “Your Holiness, Orogar still died in the end… at the hands of the Radiant Knights and Tournans.”

Clement shook his head with a wry smile. “I cautiously suggested to the Radiant Knights that they not hunt down Orogar. After all, this was the first time I had cast the Great Divination, and I had not prophesied the annihilation of Orogar and the Blackhoof tribe. However, Testier believed that the ritual of the Great Divination was already complete, and that the Radiant Knights and Lord Sasan needed a glorious victory.”

Victor’s expression grew stern. “Your Holiness, can the Great Divination be interfered with or exploited by outsiders? Not long after Orogar’s death, two God-favored Centaurs appeared in the Whitetail tribe of the Westdon Khanate, one of whom quickly advanced to become a Legendary beastman. And then there’s this sudden beastman war… You must have your suspicions about these developments.”

Clement said, “There are indeed people who can interfere with or exploit the Great Divination… The one in the Church of Laketon can.”

Victor’s expression froze. This was not the answer he wanted to hear. He asked bluntly, “Then what about His Holiness the Pope? Can he interfere with the Great Divination?”

Clement responded in a slow, measured tone, “About matters concerning the papal line, I know no more than the Trigoval family. But in the domain of Great Divination, I can tell you unequivocally that His Holiness the Pope did not use Great Divination to interfere with my Great Divination.”

Victor asked, looking slightly surprised, “Your Holiness already knows about Inquisitor-General Trigovar asking me for a favor?”

“The Trigoval family has been proclaiming the matter everywhere. Those Cardinal-Bishops who originally wanted to take back the religious enforcement authority from Trigoval’s hands are now hesitating again.” Clement nodded and said frankly, “This has put me in an awkward position… You should know that it was I who spearheaded the proposal regarding the Inquisition’s organizational structure problem.”

Victor crossed his left leg over his right, shifting into a more comfortable and casual posture. He said nonchalantly, “I will make the Curia realize once more that the alliance between Your Holiness and the Centaur Hills is unbreakable. However, regarding the Trigoval family, I think it would be quite nice to have them owe me a favor.”

The Sea Access Plan required Victor to control the coastline of the Eastern Alliance, or at least find a good natural harbor. With the Centaur Hills secretly cultivating influence in the Eastern Alliance, having the Trigoval family and the papal line both providing assistance would make things much easier. It was better than betting everything on Clement alone.

Of course, if Victor wanted to protect the Trigoval family, he still needed the Pope’s consent.

Clement asked, “Many have come to ask me, and I too am very curious. What are you and Sylvia planning to trade the a rock bricks for?”

“How about gold coins?”

“What?”

The Pope stared at the leisurely Victor, his face a mask of utter astonishment.

Chapter 703: Reaching a Consensus

“Just gold coins?” Clement asked again, inwardly puzzled.

“What else?”

Victor spread his hands, an elegant smile on his face. “Besides gold coins, what else are the lords willing to exchange for the rock brick manufacturing technology? If we negotiate with the lords of every kingdom, the war with the centaurs and beastmen tribes might be over by the time we reach an agreement. The front lines of the Westdon Pioneer Fief need rock bricks now. The Church doesn’t want the rock brick negotiations to drag on for years, does it?”

Rock brick production technology was an epoch-making breakthrough. Especially in a pioneer war, any lord without rock bricks would be left behind. With this key technology in hand, Sylvia and Victor could have traded for far more than mere gold coins—things like Adamantine, Mithril, grain, and tenant households; precious potion formulas, advanced casting techniques, and most critically, long-term supply agreements for medicinal herbs and minerals; even alliances with noble bloodline families through fostering and marriage.

The value and influence of these things could not be measured in money. In comparison, what use did Centaur Hills have for gold coins?

The truly precious things could not be bought with any amount of gold, and Centaur Hills could use rock bricks to trade for those valuable resources from the great lords of the kingdoms.

However, the reality was not so simple.

If Victor used rock bricks to trade for the Seven Great Islands’ Adamantine quota, the great lords of Borea would be more than happy—on the condition that the rock brick technology was shared only between the two of them, excluding all other powers.

This was nearly impossible. The strength of the kingdoms of Borea and Gambis alone was not enough to stand against all the human kingdoms. The inevitable result would be the public disclosure of the rock brick manufacturing technology. In that case, on what grounds would the Kingdom of Borea pay for everyone else just for rock bricks?

Pressure was a double-edged sword, and Victor and Sylvia’s meticulous groundwork had already placed the hilt firmly in their hands. Suppose they specified that they would trade the rock brick manufacturing technology for half of the Seven Great Islands’ annual Adamantine output. In that case, the great lords of the various kingdoms and the Church would turn their spears on the Kingdom of Borea, exerting immense pressure to force them to compromise.

Right now, everyone wanted rock bricks, but no one wanted to be the one to step up, fearing that Gambis would throw the deal in their face. The great lords were all looking to the Church, and the high society’s games surrounding the rock bricks had fallen into a quiet atmosphere. Everyone was waiting for the moment the truth would be revealed.

By the same token, whoever managed to obtain the rock bricks from His Highness Randall would be showered with praise—except by the party who had to pay the price. They would undoubtedly resent their interests being harmed, and their hatred would extend to the Church leaders who had handled the negotiations.

As Pontiff, Clement was already prepared to offend some people. His active invitation to Victor, sent through Sylvia, to come to the Theocracy of Ayr was precisely to discuss the rock brick matter. As long as the conditions Victor proposed were not too outrageous, he was ready to agree.

Because the rock brick manufacturing technology needed to be publicized and widely adopted, no matter how great its value, the actual benefits Centaur Hills could gain were not as immense as one might imagine. But for Victor to propose settling the sale of the rock brick technology with gold coins was, for him and Sylvia, undoubtedly the most aggrieved and thorough compromise.

That things were proceeding more smoothly than Clement had anticipated only made him more confused and hesitant.

Victor was known for his extraordinary wisdom. His previous schemes had always left everyone feeling satisfied at first, while Centaur Hills imperceptibly seized the greatest initiative, breaking through a dual blockade of politics and diplomacy to leap from an ostracized, powerful fiefdom to a part of the Queen’s family in the Kingdom of Gambis.

Clement could not see through Victor’s strategy, but he had to admit that solving the problem with gold coins was currently the most effective and simplest method. He himself would also benefit greatly; the lords would interpret it as Victor and Sylvia making a huge concession out of respect for the Pontiff.

“How, specifically, would the payment be delivered?” the Pontiff asked calmly, collecting his complex thoughts.

“Following the model for the Iron brick and giant brick kiln deals, we’ll only trade with the kingdoms. Each kingdom must pay me twenty million Gold Sols, and the Sasan Empire sixty million.” Victor held up two fingers and said, “I have two conditions. First, we only accept Gold Sols, Silver Sols, and Copper Sols, not the purple-gold coins issued by the royal families. Payment must be made in full within one year.”

“Second, the kingdoms must not, in any form, refuse normal trade relations between the Wimbledon Merchant Association and any lord.”

“We also guarantee that the manufacturing cost of rock bricks is very low, equivalent to four green bricks, with the cost mainly being in labor. Furthermore, the daily output of rock bricks is not significantly different from that of green bricks.”

“The royal families of the kingdoms will send representatives to sign the agreement and conduct a Divine Notarization. I will immediately hand over the rock brick manufacturing technology.”

After hearing His Highness Randall’s two conditions, Clement fell into a long silence, gradually beginning to understand the other party’s intentions.

Two years ago, Centaur Hills had produced Iron bricks and giant brick kilns. In Blinor City, Victor had proposed a distribution strategy, selling the related technology to the great lords and earning a massive sum. Those powerful lords who obtained the operating rights then resold the iron brick formula and giant brick kiln designs, making a neat little profit alongside His Highness Randall.

During the beastmen war, Victor had also sold Swiftbird war-fowl, which the royal families of the various kingdoms eagerly rushed to purchase.

Regardless of how the lords with the operational rights managed things, these two transactions had placed a strain on the kingdoms’ finances. Now, Victor was using the same trick again, naming a sky-high price for the rock brick manufacturing technology.

Twenty million gold coins was a sum any kingdom could scrape together if they put their minds to it. The problem was, after paying out such a large amount, on top of the two previous transactions, every single lord’s treasury would be hitting rock bottom. They might even have to start eyeing the coffers of their vassal families and freemen merchants.

It was foreseeable that for a long time to come, the market would suffer from a currency shortage, leading to a drop in prices. A superior warhorse originally worth eighty gold coins might sell for only a dozen Gold Sols.

Gold, silver, and copper coins would all flow into Centaur Hills. The thought of all the resources Victor and Sylvia could buy was enough to make one sigh with melancholy, and the second condition of the Divine Notarization ensured this would happen.

Clement couldn’t help but feel a surge of admiration for Victor’s scheme, but he wasn’t sure he was seeing the entire picture. In the presence of the great scholar, the Gold-Eyed Earl, the Pontiff felt his confidence waning.

Victor had once asked him for the minting rights to the Copper Sol. Perhaps he had begun laying the groundwork even back then.

A true alliance required equals—in wisdom, resources, and power, which must be mutually restraining and complementary. Clement leaned back into the sofa and said calmly, “Viscount Ternis Ludwig is your friend. Although he lacks the qualification, you and Sophia are indeed using him as your spokesperson… You want to push a tax reform plan through to get Ternis appointed to the position of Minister of Finance of Gambis.”

“Ternis’s tax reform plan was met with a cold reception at the Gambis Royal Court, offending the lords of hereditary and non-hereditary fiefs. He was even stripped of his court position and had to leave Blinor City in disgrace. Not long ago, he went to the Sasan Empire to meet His Highness Randall, then came here to Eyer Holy City, peddling his tax reform plan in the Silver Spire. He has already held several tea parties and invited several great scholars to speak in favor of his bill… That must be costing a lot of money.”

“Or perhaps, you and Sophia are the ones who truly need comprehensive tax reform?”

The Pontiff had suddenly changed the subject to tax reform, yet Victor showed no surprise. He simply smiled and said, “Ternis’s tax reform plan has two core components: a head tax on tenant households and a transaction tax for the king. Currently, the great scholars of the royal families support the new tax plan, while the scholars of the noble families strongly oppose it. I’m curious, what is the Church’s stance on this new tax system?”

“The Church’s position does not allow me to oppose it.”

Clement said with a bright smile, “If Gambis implements this new tax system, you’ll earn one hundred and forty million Gold Sols from selling the rock bricks. You would pay a three-percent trade tax to the king on that, totaling four million two hundred thousand Gold Sols. One-tenth of that tax revenue belongs to the Church.”

“I have one question,” Clement said, his expression turning serious. “Regarding the head tax on tenant households, although the lord is responsible for paying it, with the Church taking one-tenth and the king taking twenty percent of the remainder, this tax will ultimately be passed on to the tenants. What are your real thoughts on this?”

Victor nodded and said, “The tenant population is growing larger and larger. Relying on donations to the Mutual Aid Association and funds raised from lotteries for relief aid is probably not going to be enough. The so-called head tax is actually to ensure the monogamous tenant family system can continue to function. Even if the lords pass this cost onto the tenant households, I believe the benefits outweigh the drawbacks. Otherwise, more and more tenant families will fall into hardship in the future, eventually leading to the collapse of the entire system.”

Paying taxes would certainly cause the tenants to grumble, but if the lords didn’t have this tax revenue, providing relief to the tenants would be nothing but empty talk.

On issues concerning the livelihood of the populace, the Church’s consistent practice was to play the good guy while letting the lords take the blame. A head tax levied on tenants by the lords perfectly suited the Church’s needs. Clement had studied the tenant system in depth and had already sensed that the relief of tenant families would become a terrifying vulnerability. Victor’s proposed head tax was the very thing that could patch this vulnerability.

Clement nodded and said, “The head tax on tenant households is imperative. On this point, none of the lord-aligned scholars at the Silver Spire object. It is only the transaction tax that is endlessly debated. All in all, the royal scholars are at a disadvantage; they are fewer in number, while the lord-aligned scholars are unprecedentedly united on this issue.”

“Laketon collects a transaction tax from the marketplace merchants, and neither the King of Gambis nor the Church intervened. Other lords have followed suit, and it has almost become a common practice.” Clement paused, then said, “The original creator of the market transaction tax is now suddenly proposing that when goods cross national borders, the caravan must pay a three-percent trade tax to the king… This is actually paid by the lords. Besides the king, what does the Queen’s family of Gambis stand to gain?”

Victor looked slightly embarrassed and said, “This matter was Sophia’s idea. According to our original agreement, she will hand over the Wimbledon Merchant Association to Soren, Viscount Wimbledon, in eleven years. I’m worried she might not be able to advance to Gold rank in time, so I hope she develops in the direction of kingdom politics. The cross-border transaction tax is a good entry point to help the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence regain the position of Minister of Finance. In any case, Sophia will soon be leaving the merchant association, so the cross-border tax will be Soren’s headache. If the tax reform proposal doesn’t pass in the Senate, it’s no loss to me.”

“…On the surface, yes.” Clement gave Victor a deep look, then smiled. “I’ve heard of an insignificant little character in Laketon named Weyrich. He was originally a freeman merchant from Black Fortress. During the Ant-man plague, his wealth was forcibly requisitioned by his lord. His business failed, and he drifted to the Joshua family’s Deepwater City, where he engaged in black market dealings. Weyrich eventually returned to Centaur Hills, purchased a house to establish residency in Laketon, and even became the President of the Mutual Aid Association… He has a lot of business in the Briatte family’s Wildwillow City, and also in Pine Forest Town in Earl Chapman’s domain… Do I need to continue? For example, your public carriage system, which Weyrich has subscribed to in many domains…”

Victor did not hide his surprise. For The Golden Company to come out of the shadows, it needed the protection of the Church’s high-ranking officials, and Pontiff Clement was his first choice of collaborator. But Victor had not expected him to grasp the threads of The Golden Company so quickly, connecting the noble Raging Wave Knightess to the insignificant, portly merchant Weyrich.

The Pontiff’s display of power was intended to see how much sincerity Victor would show. This would determine whether the two could reach a consensus.

Victor said with a serious expression, “Your Holiness, have you heard of The Golden Company?”

“I am listening now,” Clement replied with an amused smile.

Victor nodded and, after making necessary redactions, explained the cause and effect behind The Golden Company. After listening to the Gold-Eyed Earl’s account, the Pontiff was stunned for a long while before shaking his head with a complex sigh. “Unimaginable. You started planning such a breathtaking scheme back when you were just the Baron of the Centaur Hills… Your Highness’s extraordinary wisdom is truly awe-inspiring.”

“It was developed in stages,” Victor corrected. “At first, my idea was simple: just to improve my family’s finances and get back at Sophia. I was going to run The Golden Company alone, not even telling Sylvia. But she found out in the end. She made me understand that only Sophia was the best person to take over The Golden Company. If I held onto it, I would only mess things up.”

Clement had to continuously circulate his Aura to control the raging tempest in his heart. The plan for The Golden Company was too astounding, capable of bringing immeasurable value and influence, not just for Victor, Sylvia, and Sophia, but for him as well. In other words, as long as he was willing to endorse The Golden Company, he could mobilize a vast, latent power without having to go through the Curia. The prerequisite was forming a secret alliance with The Golden Company, and the worst consequence would be facing the suspicion and suppression of other factions within the Holy See.

With the Gold-Eyed Earl right in front of him, the Pontiff made a swift decision. He said with a smile, “Your Golden Company might be able to deceive the independently-governed lords, but it could never deceive the local resident priests. Lazarus managed the large diocese of the Gambis Kingdom for thirty years. Tamor has just taken over and will need a few more years to gain control of the local churches. If not for this, I would have had a much harder time detecting the traces of The Golden Company.”

Victor said sincerely, “The Golden Company is growing stronger every day. It needs the protection of His Holiness the Pontiff.”

Clement said with satisfaction, “Then what is The Golden Company’s most pressing difficulty?”

“The Freemen Merchant Associations.”

Victor said without hesitation, “In the future, tenant households will bear the burden of heavy agricultural labor, freeing up more of the liege’s subjects and vassal families to engage in handicrafts. An increase in goods in the marketplaces will lead to flourishing trade. Many merchants will emerge from among the Urban Freemen, and they will inevitably form factions and establish rules for freemen merchants. These freemen merchant associations are all potential competitors for The Golden Company, but from another perspective, they can also become its allies.”

“I hope the various local freemen merchant associations can be unified under the banner of The Golden Company. The great families currently participating in The Golden Company are willing to provide their full support.”

Clement thought for a moment and said, “I can resolve the issue of The Golden Company’s legal status… As for unifying the local freemen merchant associations, that is unrealistic. you cannot possibly pull every lord into The Golden Company. However, the Curia will provide assistance, at least to prevent them from becoming enemies of The Golden Company. The specific method of cooperation is something you will still need to figure out for yourselves.”

Victor rose and bowed formally, saying with great solemnity, “Thank you, Your Holiness.”

Clement waved his hand, gesturing for Victor to sit down. With a warm smile, he asked, “When do you plan for The Golden Company to be officially announced to the public?”

“In two or three years,” Victor nodded and explained further, “The kingdom trade tax is intended to establish the trading order for the freemen merchant groups in advance. The attitude of the royal families is very important for The Golden Company’s survival and development. By sharing some profits with the royal families in the form of taxes, The Golden Company will have the space to survive.”

Clement laughed loudly and interjected, “It is the tax rate that is important… Centaur Hills has so much money to spend. The Wimbledon Merchant Association will procure supplies for you and proactively pay taxes when crossing borders. The royal families will take the opportunity to establish the trade tax. But to appease the anger of their own lords, they will only set a low tax rate and then ask the Church to notarize it… A low tax rate is perfect for The Golden Company.”

Victor smiled without speaking, a silent admission of the truth.

The Pontiff stood up from the sofa and, with his hands clasped behind his back, said, “I am very satisfied with your plan to exchange rock bricks for gold coins. I owe you a favor. If you need my help with anything, I will do my best—short of using the Great Divination.”

Victor’s gaze was burning as he said, “Your Holiness, I wish for a private audience with His Holiness the Pope.”

Chapter 704: An Unpleasant Meeting

The Pope is the embodiment of the Radiant Code, representing the contractual Law between the Lord of Radiance and the Radiant Church. This can be understood as a link—the Pope is the link between the Lord of Radiance and the Church.

The Lord of Radiance has no self-awareness, a fact for which the high-ranking clergy of the Church are more or less grateful. But the Pope does have self-awareness, and when he wields supreme power, he cannot satisfy everyone. The papal line, in particular, always sought to suppress the Knight-Nobles in order to preserve its own authority, hoping they would bow and worship them as ordinary clergy do.

Knights are natural extraordinary beings, their wisdom, strength, and intellect far surpassing those of mortals. The papal line’s attempt to force the Knight-Nobles into submission would only lead to division and disaster in the human kingdoms.

After the papal line lost power, the Church’s upper echelons placed the Pope under the strictest supervision. The most important condition was to prevent him from having contact with the outside world as much as possible. In fact, the current Pope, Necayatt, was born and raised in the secluded high mountain monastery. He never met his biological parents, knew not of any siblings, and only after inheriting the papal throne did he learn that he was the son of the previous Pope, a blood-descendant of His Holiness Saint Inoc.

Necayatt is a true ascetic monk, devout in his faith, benevolent and kind, and without ambition—perfectly fitting the Holy See’s criteria for selecting a Pope. After moving into the Papal Palace on the Radiant Holy Mountain and becoming a Spirit Priest, he continued to study theology and cultivate his divine arts, just as he had in the monastery. Although he would inquire about church affairs and current events and express his opinions, he only saw what the Holy See wanted him to see, and his orders never left the Papal Palace.

Nachtigal’s Light’s Guard protects the Papal Palace. Their primary duty is to protect the Pope, but in reality, it is to prohibit outsiders from entering, not even high-ranking clergy. Within the entire Holy See, only the Grand Commander of the Radiant Knights, the three Patriarchs, and Nachtigal himself are permitted to go to the palace for an audience with His Holiness the Pope.

Victor’s request put Clement in a difficult position. Yet, recalling Father Miller of Laketon, he had a nagging feeling that the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s move had a deeper meaning, possibly related to his bloodline and destiny.

“If this is about the Great Divination, the resident priest of Laketon probably has more authority on the matter than His Holiness the Pope,” Clement probed tactfully.

Victor’s eyes had already shifted to an otherworldly dark gold. He nodded and said evasively, “Father Miller gave me a great deal of help and enlightenment.”

Clement grew more certain of his judgment. His expression turned serious as he said, “It is impossible for Your Highness to have a private meeting with the Pope. However, if the Church were to invest you as a Saint, you could go directly to the Radiant Holy Mountain for an audience with His Holiness… With Your Highness’s merits and achievements, being named a Saint is only right. But…”

The Pontiff paused, then explained frankly, “Your Highness slew the Centaur Great Khan on the Warton Great Plains, but the Auguste family’s princess unfortunately perished while trying to rescue you.”

“The matter of investing Your Highness as a Saint must be postponed. The Church has to consider the Auguste family’s position,” Clement said in a tactful tone.

Being a Saint is not merely a lofty title. The Sword Saint Draven is currently the only Saint invested by the Church, and his status in the Church is second only to the Pope. This can be seen as a form of co-opting and suppression; by creating the title of Saint, the Pope attributed Draven’s merit for slaying the Ogre King to the Church, while also placing him in a subordinate position. In exchange, Draven, in the name of a Saint, can directly mobilize and command the clergy in battle during certain emergencies.

On this point alone, it was nearly impossible for the Holy See to invest Victor as a Saint. Even if the Pontiff had proposed it, it was merely one of Clement’s political maneuvers. Besides, the Holy See’s excuse was not without basis. Victor himself suspected Sylvia of killing Roland. The Church only needed to combine Nachtigal’s reaction near the Great Plains with an investigation into Sylvia’s whereabouts at the time to reach a conclusion similar to Victor’s.

If Sylvia was a suspect, Victor could not be absolved of involvement. Moreover, he had gone to aid Roland, but in the end, Roland perished while rescuing him. This was ultimately a stain on his record, though no one dared to raise questions to Victor’s face.

Victor had no intention of entering the clergy’s hierarchy. He wanted to see the Pope because they were both inheritors of the Alchemical Empire’s legacy.

The Soul Fire preserved in Alchemy Tower No. 7 is immortal. Victor and the Tower Spirit King speculated that the Soul Fire of the Alchemy Towers originated from the souls of extraordinary beings—so-called Devils or evil gods. In the Giantwood Forest, Victor had learned from the Bear-monster Elder that the Ancient Behemoths once waged the Eternal War, devouring the Divine Laws of other behemoths to achieve transcendence. The victors among them most likely retained their self-awareness and became deities, while another portion of the Ancient Behemoths followed Taelon Ruier’s will and walked the path of pan-consciousness.

Because primordial wizards could engage in two-way communication with deities through resonance with the Law, the Mage Council of the ancient Alchemical Empire gained a wealth of precious knowledge, giving them unimaginable creativity. For example, they had the opportunity to capture deity-level extraordinary beings, erase their self-awareness, and partition their immortal Soul Fire to create the Alchemy Towers.

The Lord of Radiance was a special case. Like the Soul Fire of the Alchemy Towers, it had no self-awareness, yet it was not a pan-conscious deity whose will was diffused among individual life forms. This was a very obvious sign of artificial creation. Victor was almost certain that the Lord of Radiance was also a masterwork of the Alchemical Empire. From his perspective, the Lord of Radiance served to receive and convert the power of the mind, turning the populace’s faith into holy power, and enabling ordinary people to reach the Saint realm.

The ancient Alchemical Empire’s Mages’ Association and the line of Chosen wizards were one and the same. Victor highly suspected that the first Pope Inoc inheriting the Lord of Radiance was the result of a secret conspiracy.

In terms of timeline, Inoc was born more than a hundred years after the ancient wizards ignited the Blood Sacrifice War. He could not have been the instigator of that war, but the brutal conflict triggered by the Devil’s Blood Sacrifice ritual undoubtedly provided the objective conditions for the Lord of Radiance to gather faith. It was as if the ancient Archwizard Andrew had invented the blood sacrifice ritual specifically to awaken the Lord of Radiance.

Wizards could communicate with evil gods. If Andrew’s blood sacrifice ritual originated from a certain evil god, then that entity was most likely the mastermind.

What was its purpose in awakening the Lord of Radiance?

Where was it?

Victor had many unanswered questions in his mind, and his encounter with the Shadow Knight in the Giantwood Forest had allowed him to grasp the tail of the mastermind.

The extraordinary power of the Shadow Knights resembled divine arts. Victor could not be entirely certain of this, but he could make a bold hypothesis.

During the Eternal War, the Ancient Behemoths devoured each other’s Divine Laws in pursuit of transcendence and immortality. The victors became gods, but they had defied the will of the Creator, Taelon Ruier, and their situation was not ideal. Thus, the Ancient Gods needed to entice humans into worshiping them. They first taught the Art of Void Creation for the Alchemy Towers. After the Alchemical Empire collapsed and no one sacrificed material laws to the Alchemy Towers anymore, they then tempted the Chosen wizards to perform blood sacrifices, and in doing so, they degenerated into what humans called Devils and evil gods.

One of these evil gods set its sights on the Alchemical Empire’s most powerful legacy—the Lord of Radiance, which could convert human faith into holy power. It used some of the Ancient Gods to orchestrate the humans’ Blood Sacrifice War, secretly guided the first Pope Inoc to awaken the Lord of Radiance, gathered the faith of the populace, and founded the Radiant Church. Then, it became a parasite on the Lord of Radiance, stealing the purified power of faith to sustain its own immortal will.

The Shadow Knights are its devotees, the Shadow Priests are its claws, and Victor, who could sacrifice material laws to other evil gods, became a thorn in its side.

Of course, this was all just Victor’s speculation, with many gaps and errors. For example, he couldn’t fit the powerful other races that had invaded the Alchemical Empire into the puzzle. But regardless, Victor wanted to meet the Pope. Even if they couldn’t communicate privately, just remembering the Pope’s features would be good enough. With his current abilities, he could be halfway up the Radiant Holy Mountain and use his Nemesis and wind-controlling abilities to have a secret exchange with the Pope, or rather, to probe him.

“Isn’t there any other way?” Victor asked, frowning, a look of unwillingness on his face.

Clement said with a smile, “Given His Holiness the Pope’s status, it is not proper for the Raging Wind Sword Saint to request an audience. However, he can summon you. I must state this beforehand: if His Holiness summons you, Nachtigal, Flidis, Tamor, and I must be present. Furthermore, some things cannot be said to the Pope, and we will make that clear in advance.”

“This being the case, do you still wish to meet the Pope?”

Hearing this, Victor was instantly on alert. With Nachtigal and the three Patriarchs present, he wouldn’t be able to discuss any secret matters. In that case, what was the point of seeing the Pope? His Highness Randall’s Nemesis combat technique was nearly unstoppable, which was no secret within the inner circle of top-tier extraordinary powerhouses. His Highness Randall’s insistence on meeting the Pope… wasn’t it just to remember the man’s features?

Victor hesitated for two seconds, then nodded. “Just meeting him once will be enough.”

His Highness Randall offered no further explanation. Clement’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he chose to trust Father Miller. After a moment of thought, he said calmly, “It isn’t appropriate for Your Highness to actively seek an audience with the Pope. I will write a letter to His Holiness now, informing him that the Raging Wind Sword Saint is in the Theocracy of Ayr, and ask if he wishes to summon you. But I cannot guarantee it will work.”

Victor broke into a smile. “Thank you for your help, Your Holiness. That is more than enough.”

Clement and Victor went to the study, where Clement wrote a letter by hand in front of him and ordered an attendant to deliver it to the Papal Palace.

The rest was a matter of waiting. Lady Melissa set aside an area in the manor for Victor’s carriage and retinue to settle in. Meanwhile, the match between Tournans and Caligula had ended. The big simpleton had lost to the Legendary Sacred Warrior as expected, but he had also caused his opponent no small amount of trouble. After lunch, they chatted into the afternoon. Gillian and Charlotte still hadn’t returned from the marketplace in the holy city. By evening, a manor attendant came to announce that King Nachtigal had arrived.

Clement, who was in the middle of a game of chess with Victor, set down his crystal piece. He seemed to let out a breath of relief, yet said with some regret, “Nachtigal has come in person. It seems His Holiness the Pope has no intention of summoning you… Let’s go and greet Nachtigal.”

Victor could only shake his head with a wry smile. He rose and left the lounge with the Pontiff, heading towards the manor’s main gate.

Nachtigal and an attendant holding a horse stood outside the gate. He was dressed in exquisite, casual noble attire. His figure was tall and well-proportioned, his short hair a brownish-red. He had a serene and detached temperament, and his features were extraordinarily handsome, no less so than Victor’s. He looked like a graceful youth of seventeen or eighteen, and his brilliant blue eyes sparkled, giving him an otherworldly and noble air.

This was the first time Victor had seen King Nachtigal, but he had long since heard descriptions of him.

Casten Nachtigal was one hundred and twenty-three years old this year. Sylvia had not even been born when he advanced to Legendary Knight, making him the most senior Legendary Paladin of the current era. And yet, he had the appearance of a youth—gentle and refined, making a fine first impression. It was hard to associate this image with the First Paladin who had dominated the Holy See for decades.

The appearance and temperament of a High-ranked Knight correspond to their disposition. When Victor first met Sylvia, she looked like an ordinary noble lady of about thirty—mature, gorgeous, and alluring. As Victor grew stronger, Sylvia gradually blossomed with an ethereal beauty, making any other high-ranking female knight seem dim in her presence. When she and Victor stood together, everyone, without exception, would have the same thought: they looked like a married couple.

Nachtigal had advanced to Extraordinary Knight in his youth and still retained his appearance from that time, which indicated that his mentality had always remained young and vibrant. From another perspective, however, it meant Nachtigal’s will was so firm that he was unmoved by external things. In a pejorative sense, he was stubborn to a maddening degree.

Victor’s negative opinion of Nachtigal was not unrelated to Roland’s demise.

Nachtigal’s eyes met Victor’s. He gave a slight, apologetic smile and said to Clement, “Your Holiness, the Pope has received your letter, but he has no intention of summoning His Highness Randall. I have come specially to explain the situation.”

“King Nachtigal, please come in. Perhaps the two of you need to speak alone.” Clement said, turning sideways and gesturing with his hand.

Returning to the residence, Clement led Victor and Nachtigal into a VIP lounge, had a servant bring tea and refreshments, and after a few pleasantries, left the room.

Victor’s dark gold eyes turned to King Nachtigal. With a faint smile, he asked, “His Holiness the Pope did not summon me. Was it really necessary for Your Majesty to make a special trip?”

“I was the one who wouldn’t let him summon the Raging Wind Sword Saint,” Nachtigal said frankly. “I cannot discern Your Highness’s purpose for seeking an audience with the Pope. If you wish to learn of historical secrets, it would seem that I am the most suitable person to talk to. As for the current Pope… Your Highness should have heard about the current succession method for the papal line. We are unwilling to let outsiders disturb His Holiness, but he is, after all, a Spirit Priest and deserves respect. Therefore, to reduce unnecessary trouble, it’s better that we resolve matters we can handle ourselves without bothering the Pope.”

Nachtigal’s subtext was: We have told the Pope many lies, and as a top-tier extraordinary being, he is bound to notice something if he meets and converses with an outsider. Therefore, we cannot let you meet him.

Victor knew his chances of meeting the Pope were slim. It was like a lord bringing a guest to tour his secret treasury—it just didn’t happen. He had only wanted to give it his best shot. It was perfectly logical that the Pontiff would help, and just as logical that Nachtigal would block him.

Victor felt a pang of regret. He shifted his focus and asked directly, “Your Majesty has come to explain this in person. Is there something you wish to discuss with me?”

Nachtigal nodded decisively and said, “Your Highness and the Queen of Roses have produced the rock brick, which will make the pioneer war much easier. I hope Gambis will allow the Randt Imperial territory to join the camp for the expansion south of the river. As long as the Gambis Kingdom makes a promise first and sets aside the blood feud with Ryan Auguste, I can persuade Neo Wester to dissolve the Randt Empire and participate in the pioneer war on the Southern Continent as a Pioneer Lord.”

Victor gave Nachtigal an amused look and asked softly, “Is it that simple?”

Nachtigal said calmly, “Regarding what happened to Ryan and Roland, I won’t say it was a misunderstanding. However, it is also a fact that the three southern kingdoms betrayed their liege lord. When Emperor Neo Wester advanced to the Legendary realm, he was entitled to make some gains. Taking back the three eastern provinces of Gambis was his responsibility and his right. I urged him to go all out when facing a Gold Knight. That was advice from a traditional ally; I have nothing to apologize for… In fact, during that knight’s duel, Neo Wester was on the defensive from start to finish. Roland should not blame Neo Wester or me for Ryan’s demise.”

“Sylvia said you were nearby at the time… Furthermore, the Nachtigal family is very knowledgeable about the Great Divination,” Victor said, his gaze sharp and his expression cold.

Nachtigal shrugged nonchalantly. “The Queen of Roses hid her identity as a Spirit Knight, so the Church had to react. In the battle at Whitewater Fortress, Tournans challenged Sylvia and was defeated. It then fell to me to issue a warning. If even I could not quell the York family’s arrogance, perhaps there are one or two other excellencies in the monastery who would be worthy of the Queen of Roses’s attention.”

“I observed the duel between Neo Wester and Ryan in secret… Does Your Highness believe I could have left Eyer Holy City without a unanimous request from the Holy See and the Radiant Knights?”

It was the Church’s decision. It makes no sense for you to blame me alone.

Nachtigal’s explanation was tantamount to showing weakness, yet coming from someone with the image of a handsome youth, it seemed quite natural.

Victor was at a loss for words. After composing himself, he retorted, “Can you make decisions for Neo Wester?”

“Adam is the Emperor of the Randt Empire, but more than half of the High-ranked Knights in the Randt Imperial territory are willing to listen to my opinion,” Nachtigal said with a smile. “And I am being very modest when I put it that way.”

“So, this is for the sake of the Nachtigal family’s secular power.” Victor raised his slender, sword-like eyebrows and said, “If that’s the case, you’ll have to pay for the rock brick. The total is twenty million Gold Sols… I’m not trying to make things difficult; this is the price for every kingdom.”

Casten was dumbfounded. After a moment, he asked with a wry smile, “Such a huge sum… I can’t afford it. Can it be less? How about two million Gold Sols? Preferably paid in installments over ten years…”

“Absolutely not!” Victor felt a strange sense of satisfaction as he flatly rejected Nachtigal’s proposal.

“Then we’ll just have to wait… wait until the rock brick isn’t worth anything, and then secretly build our own giant brick kilns.”

Now it was Victor’s turn to be dumbfounded. He never would have imagined that Nachtigal could play the rogue so matter-of-factly.

“Didn’t His Highness Randall also play the rogue by naming an exorbitant price I can’t afford, all to reject the Randt Imperial territory from joining the southern expansion camp led by the Gambis Kingdom?” Nachtigal looked directly into Victor’s eyes and said with a light laugh, “How about this: you consider my first proposal, and then we can talk about the Gold Sols… I can’t afford twenty million, but I believe the Trigovar family would be willing to help me raise a portion of the funds.”

Victor was silent for a moment before saying, “If Your Majesty the King performs a divine art for me to see, I can relay your proposal to Aerie Fortress.”

Casten’s face was filled with astonishment. He asked in disbelief, “Is it that simple?”

Before Victor could answer, he held out his right hand, summoning a layer of platinum-gold light. He smiled. “A Paladin’s Self-Healing Art… If Your Highness is not yet satisfied, I can perform all of a Paladin’s divine arts for your viewing pleasure.”

Victor shook his head, his expression impassive. “That’s enough. Your Majesty the King may take your leave. I will keep my promise, but I cannot guarantee Aerie Fortress’s response.”

Nachtigal stood up from the sofa, smiled, and bowed. “The Gambis Kingdom will need to build a port at the mouth of Lake Fies, otherwise your fishing fleets will have nowhere to dock, and your catch will simply rot in the holds… We are all striving for cooperation.”

Victor said nothing. He rose, returned the bow, and saw Nachtigal to the door.

Before leaving, the King of Ayr said with an elegant smile, “Your Highness, on behalf of the Nachtigal family, I invite you to be a guest at the Ayr Royal Palace. If you feel it would be inconvenient, then please consider it unsaid.”

Victor nodded. “If Aerie Fortress agrees to Your Majesty’s proposal, and I have the opportunity, I will certainly visit the Nachtigal’s royal palace.”

“I greatly look forward to that day. Farewell.”

As he watched Nachtigal leave the manor, Victor muttered to himself, If he can use Radiant divine arts, it’s unlikely he’s a Shadow Knight.

…Then who are the Shadow Knights, and who is the real Shadow Council President?

Chapter 705: Digging a Canal to Divert Water

Victor failed to see the Pope, but his attempt did attract Nachtigal. Though it seemed his probing had achieved nothing, that was not necessarily the case.

A Legendary-level Shadow Knight ambushing him in the Giantwood Forest was enough to indicate that the other party was involved with an evil god. From this, one could deduce that Victor’s identity as the master of Alchemy Tower No. 7 had already been exposed. The specific timing could perhaps be traced back to when the little Baron of Wimbledon was murdered by a Wizard in Black Fortress Town.

There were a total of five known Legendary Knights in the human kingdoms today. Sylvia could be ruled out first. Howard Testier and Auroxia Baselius were both recently promoted Legendary Knights, so they could also be cleared of suspicion. Neo Wester was at Giantstone Fortress at the time, with high-ranking clergy to serve as his alibi, so he lacked the time to sneak into the Giantwood Forest. Logically, Nachtigal should not have been able to leave Eyer Holy City either, but he had a prior record of assisting Neo Wester. On the other hand, if Victor’s guess was correct—that the evil god parasitizing the Lord of Radiance could influence the Pope and Nachtigal—then they could very well be the Shadow Council President and the Shadow Knight.

Although Nachtigal explained that his secret trip to Gambis had been the result of an internal consensus within the Church, Victor still demanded that he perform a radiant divine art, and offered no explanation for the request.

In any case, Victor had already survived an assassination attempt by the Shadow Knight. His identity as the master of the Alchemy Tower was most likely exposed, so openly probing Nachtigal was no big deal—at worst, it would just alert the enemy. If Nachtigal was unaware, he could wrack his brains and never guess the truth of the matter. In the other scenario, where Nachtigal was connected to the Shadow Knight, Victor would be sending him a clear signal:

I’m watching you!

Victor was now brimming with confidence. He could handle the power projected by the evil god into the real world with ease. He no longer needed to hide in corners as he did when he was weak. A direct, open probe was the response befitting the Raging Wind Sword Saint.

No one could feel at ease under the gaze of the Raging Wind Sword Saint. If Nachtigal was involved with the Shadow Knight, the measures they took next would leave traces. Besides the Shadow Priests, who had lingering ties to the Baselius family, Victor held another clue—Grand Duke Peter’s eldest son, Raymond Peter.

Quicksilver had already planted an informant by Raymond’s side. As long as the mysterious wizard organization made a move, it would be reflected in the actions of their agent, and Victor would eventually have a chance to notice the anomaly.

The next morning, His Highness Randell formally entered the Holy City. He first went to the Radiant Cathedral to pray, then visited the Silver Spire in his capacity as a great scholar, where he personally carved his name on the wall of the top floor. Hosting an afternoon Tea Party to discuss academic topics with the great scholars of the Spire was a necessary social obligation.

After the Tea Party, Victor led the scholars of the York family back to the manor where they were temporarily staying. Meanwhile, the Centaur Hills’ plan to trade rock bricks for gold coins was fermenting fiercely among the noble scholars.

The Sage Arya had founded the Silver Spire to gather the academic achievements of the human kingdoms, allowing the noble scions from various lands to come and study. In itself, this meant the Silver Spire naturally possessed a crucial diplomatic function. Behind every great scholar was a major power. They could represent their families to exchange views with their friends and fellow students in Eyer Holy City, clarifying their respective stances and offering counsel for their family’s final decisions.

That evening, several great scholars of prominent status were invited by Master Tacitus for a small gathering at his manor villa. They hailed from the Royal Families of various kingdoms, but the great scholar from the Gambis Kingdom was excluded. Everyone knew this gathering was about the “rock bricks for gold coins” plan.

In the brightly lit reception room, attendants served the guests coffee, candied fruit, and fruit. Once they had all left the room, Brandt Eleonor, the great scholar from the Sus Royal Family, glanced at the splendid golden decorations in the room and said jokingly, “Tacitus, we used to always mock your taste. The next time we visit, I’m afraid we won’t be seeing all this dazzling gold anymore.”

Tacitus laughed heartily. “We in Naville have never lacked gold, only gold coins. The two cannot be conflated.”

Felsher, a great scholar with silvery-white hair and a weathered face, sighed heavily. “We in the Dodor Kingdom lack gold coins even more. His Highness Randell has set a price of twenty million Gold Sol for the rock bricks. This puts us in a very difficult position.”

“Heh, twenty million gold coins is a frightening sum for any single family, but for a kingdom… it’s not unaffordable. I’m sure the Friedrich and Ludwig families can figure something out.” Ziegtorlin, the great scholar representing the Baselius family, glanced at Mankas, the court scholar from Blood Wolfhold, before changing the subject. “The Sasan Empire is three times the size of an ordinary kingdom, so His Highness Randell is giving us ‘special consideration,’ demanding sixty million Gold Sol worth of coins and refusing Purple Gold Coins… Raising such a huge sum in a single year is still quite difficult for the northern lords… Even if we hand over the full amount, transporting all that money to the Centaur Hills is no easy task… Gentlemen, what are your thoughts on this?”

A gathering like this could not decide anything, but its participants could speak freely from the standpoint of their families and state their positions.

Semiodor, the great scholar from the Kingdom of Borea, took a sip of coffee, looked up, and said slowly, “Tacitus, you’re old friends with Edwin York. You once spent three years in the Centaur Hills specifically investigating the water projects and New Agro-husbandry promoted by His Highness Randell, and you have a very deep understanding of the tenant system. We would very much like to know your view on this ‘rock bricks for gold coins’ plan.”

Master Tacitus shook his head with a smile. “Who among us here has not studied the tenant system in depth? His Highness Randell is of noble Bloodline and extraordinary wisdom. Whether his plan to trade rock bricks for gold coins is related to the Gambis Kingdom’s tenant system, I cannot see through it… I invited you all here today precisely in the hope that everyone could offer their own opinions and we could jointly explore the impact of this plan.”

The Sus great scholar, Brandt, chimed in, “The rock bricks for gold coins plan may not necessarily be related to the tenant system, but His Highness Randell’s strategy is truly admirable. Perhaps by starting from the tenant system, we can grasp his line of thinking… Tacitus, you are the convener of this gathering, so as is tradition, let’s have you begin the discussion.”

Tacitus stroked his gray beard, thought for a moment, then nodded and began, “To study the tenant system, one must compare it to the traditional vassalage system. To be precise, the implementation of the tenant system prompted the demise of the common land system.”

“As you all know, in the past, a standard village of three thousand people would manage a territory of three hundred square kilometers. The actual area of cultivated land was limited, and the land beyond it belonged to the village as common land. The lord’s eighty percent tribute only applied to the cultivated land. Villagers mainly relied on gathering from the common land to survive, and only symbolically handed over some resources from it.”

“The benefit of the common land system was that villagers would consciously defend their territory and strictly repel outsiders. The militia would proactively patrol the territory, combating poachers, monsters, and wild beasts. His Highness Randell constructed water projects, invented the mouldboard plow, and promoted deep plowing and careful cultivation. Both the area of cultivated land and its yield multiplied. This shook the foundation of the common land system and greatly increased the lord’s tribute income. Now, a single village administers more than ten manors, with a total population of nearly ten thousand. The original common land system is no longer viable. That is why the Randell Fief was the first to adjust the tribute ratio, allowing a liege’s subject’s family to retain about thirty-five percent of their agro-pastoral income, which was later raised to forty percent.”

Tacitus picked up his cup, took a sip of hot coffee, and continued:

“…Even so, the lives of the liege’s subjects’ families would fall into hardship because they lacked manpower and needed to hire refugees to help them plant crops and herd cattle, sheep, and horses. Even if the House of Randell gave all the harvested wheat straw to the families, their income was still relatively low, even lower than what they could get from gathering on the common lands.”

“The most important thing is that the mode of production changed… The method of deep plowing and careful cultivation required the liege’s subjects to invest more labor time and vigor. They were busy in the fields all day, with no time for militia training, no leisure for handicrafts, and no energy to perform labor service for the lord. Therefore, the Centaur Hills was the first to implement the tenant system, letting tenant households perform the heavy labor. This gave the liege’s subjects’ families more time to receive martial skills training and engage in handicraft production.”

“The tenant system brought about two changes. On one hand, refugees became tenant households. From then on, their lives became stable. They no longer had to migrate and could slowly accumulate family wealth… ahem, they would become wealthy. On the other hand, handicrafts would develop, the variety of goods in the marketplace would increase, and town trade would prosper… Once tenant households had a home and surplus money, they would naturally be willing to go to the marketplace to purchase goods, thereby further promoting the development of trade.”

“In response to this situation, His Highness Randell proposed the transaction tax, opening up another stable source of fiscal revenue for his family.”

Felsher, the scholar from the Dodor Kingdom, looked grave as he added, “The transaction tax, as a source of family revenue, is becoming increasingly important, standing shoulder to shoulder with traditional territorial tribute, each supplementing the other… Territorial tribute will become the source of a family’s material reserves, while the collection of the transaction tax represents a stable source of wealth for the family, manifested as… gold, silver, and copper coins.”

“In other words, to measure whether a family is rich or poor, one must first see if their material reserves are sufficient and stable, and second, see how much currency is in their treasury.”

“His Highness Randell’s intention in trading rock bricks for gold coins is already very obvious…” The Sus great scholar sighed and said with a smile, “The Centaur Hills will obtain a massive amount of currency from the great lords of the various kingdoms. The goods in their marketplaces will continue to increase, and prices will fall. They will then use the currency paid by the lords to purchase large quantities of cheap supplies… Based on the volume of this transaction, I estimate the Centaur Hills will be able to exploit the resources of the lords for more than thirty years.”

“The lords of Sus can choose not to trade their goods, and let them all rot in their warehouses,” the great scholar from Blood Wolfhold commented with cool sarcasm.

The great scholar from Borea interjected, “Any great family can produce a million Gold Sol. A kingdom should not have trouble raising twenty million gold coins… However, it would be more reasonable for the kingdom’s lords to pay the transaction fee over ten years.”

Ziegtorlin of the Baselius family shook his head and said, “If the Kingdom of Borea had giant brick kilns and rock bricks when they were pioneering the Southern Continent, forget one Vanguard Fortress, they could have built three, and they wouldn’t have been driven out of the Southern Continent by the Gogen Barbarians. Now with rock bricks, the pioneer wars we initiate are almost impossible to fail. The significance of rock bricks is beyond doubt. I believe His Highness Randell and the Queen of Roses don’t care about cheap materials. The Centaur Hills has already achieved great success with its New Agro-husbandry, the port in Gambis is under construction, and in less than ten years, the Gambis Kingdom will be able to build rock brick castles south of the Goldwater River.”

“The plan to trade rock bricks for gold is clearly the result of His Holiness the Pope’s diligent mediation. The one-year deadline set by His Highness Randell is likely a trap aimed at the lords of the various kingdoms. If anyone raises an objection or tries to delay the payment, His Highness Randell can justifiably make new demands, such as having the Kingdom of Borea contribute Adamantine, the Kingdom of Sus contribute Mithril, and the Dodor Kingdom contribute Dragonbone Steel.”

The Baselius family and Blood Wolfhold had their political disagreements, but as northern lords, they shared a common interest when it came to rock bricks. The front line of the Westdon Pioneer Fief needed the rock brick manufacturing technology, and they wanted it now, the sooner the better. The Kingdoms of Borea, Sus, and Dodor, on the other hand, were not in such a hurry. They were more inclined to unite with the lords of other kingdoms to haggle with the Centaur Hills.

The Kingdom of Naville was also part of the northern expansion faction. Master Tacitus stepped in to smooth things over. “His Highness Randell’s one-year deadline might be intended to be difficult, but this twenty million gold coin offering is not really a big deal for the various kingdoms. Don’t forget, in the second month of this year’s Season of Fire, the Silver Spire will hold the Sol Alliance Meeting to discuss the quotas for the various kingdoms to mint gold and silver coins.”

“Gold, silver, and copper ingots are not coins, but they can be minted into Gold Sols, Silver Sols, and Copper Sols. If we collectively increase this year’s minting quota, we can eliminate the financial pressure brought by His Highness Randell.”

The atmosphere in the reception room fell silent for a moment. The great scholars exchanged glances. Felsher from the Dodor Kingdom slowly shook his head and said, “That won’t work. The Centaur Hills will still control too many gold coins. The amount of supplies they can buy will be several times ours… They could even force the lords of the kingdoms into a dilemma simply by slightly inflating the procurement price of supplies. We would be caught, whether we buy the goods on the market or not.”

“…Unless, the Royal Families of the kingdoms can have free minting rights…”

In Pope Clement’s private manor, inside the villa temporarily occupied by the House of Randell, Victor was chatting and laughing with Master Edwin, whom he had not seen in a long time. After catching up on what they had each been doing during their time apart, he said with a smile, “I plan to return to Gambis tomorrow.”

Master Edwin was taken aback and hurriedly asked, “You’re not attending the Sol Alliance Meeting, Your Highness?”

Victor shook his head, his eyes gentle. “I’ve been away for almost two years. I deeply miss Sylvia and the others, and my darling daughter Linobia. I wish I could sprout wings and fly to their side.”

His longing for his lover and daughter was, of course, genuine. Another reason for Victor’s haste to return home was a secret letter he had just received from Aerie Fortress. Tofwen, the Chief of The Faceless, was likely on his deathbed and wished to see Victor one last time.

As this was a secret concerning Wizards, there was no need to explain it to Edwin. Victor changed the subject.

“Master, the Mystic Form and visualization techniques I taught you—you must practice them every day. They will benefit your health. When I return to Gambis, I will request a life-extending potion from Aerie Fortress, one concocted from the heart of a Dragon-blooded Kobold, for you to take.”

Edwin was both a mentor and a friend to Victor. During the early days of the Randell Fief’s development, he had provided Victor with immense help. This friendship was worth an extraordinary potion from Victor.

“I thank Your Highness in advance.” Edwin smiled in gratification, then frowned and said, “I’m afraid the matter of free minting rights will not be so simple. After all, the Sol Agreement is said to be sacred, with a history of over four thousand years.”

“It’s fine.” Victor waved his hand and said calmly, “The canal has been dug; the water will flow in… If this Sol Alliance Meeting fails to reach a consensus on free minting rights, it will actually be to our advantage… But I believe the sacred Sol Agreement will cause privately minted currency to flourish throughout the world within the next ten years, making it no longer sacred. I guarantee there won’t be another Sol Alliance Meeting.”

Chapter 706: The Dominator

His Highness Randell’s convoy advanced westward along the roads of the Randt Imperial territory under the afternoon sun.

It was the end of the first month of the Season of Fire, and the temperature was gradually rising. The several hundred elite cavalrymen had all switched to light summer armor, but they were still drenched in sweat. For an ordinary person, a long-distance trek in such weather, weighed down by armor, was a severe test of both willpower and physical endurance.

The red copper carriage, pulled by six-legged Swift Dragons, was situated in the center of the procession. Its massive carriage compartment resembled a small cabin sheathed in copper, and its four pairs of wheels turned on the tamped-earth road, leaving deep ruts in their wake.

This carriage was a gift to Victor from the Silver Spire. It was co-designed by several master smiths and crafted by renowned artisans from Eyer Holy City. The materials were of the highest quality and the design was ingenious, both luxurious and practical. Even with Victor’s discerning eye, he could find little fault with it. The interior design and materials, in particular, had been chosen with soundproofing and shock absorption in mind. Once the doors and the ventilation skylight were closed, even an initial-rank Knight would have difficulty hearing what was happening inside if they got close to the carriage.

The private carriages of great figures emphasized seclusion, like mobile private residences where one could handle confidential matters without fear of being overheard.

At this moment, the carriage doors were shut tight, and the colored crystal pane of the skylight, used for ventilation and light, had been lowered. Bells hung over the hidden ventilation holes in the darker corners of the carriage, jingling incessantly as the carriage moved, masking the sounds of conversation within.

Charlotte’s golden hair was unbound, and she wore a pink, petal-like dress made of Spider silk. Her long, beautiful legs, clad in white stockings, extended from beneath the hem of her skirt, crossed gracefully at an angle. Like a lazy pet cat, she snuggled up to her master, her lake-green eyes studying the young man seated opposite them with curiosity.

Charlotte was very fond of the carriage meticulously crafted by the Silver Spire, but Gillian loved it even more. Miss Chapman had monopolized the carriage, and Victor along with it, for a full four days, giving Charlotte no chance to experience it. When Victor finally managed to persuade Gillian to leave, Charlotte had immediately slipped into the carriage, even changing into a beautiful and sexy petal dress. But then Victor had unexpectedly summoned a young scholar from his retinue to speak with him.

Victor had wanted Charlotte to change her clothes first, but she had simply pulled on a pair of stockings and refused to leave his side, completely unconcerned by the young scholar’s presence.

Victor was helpless in the face of Charlotte’s behavior. She had never been very ambitious; being a sworn female knight was just a part-time job. Her primary identity, the one she most identified with, was that of the Gold-Eyed Earl’s favored mistress.

Neither a Sworn Knight nor a concubine was protected by the partner principles; they were entirely dependent on their master. Therefore, she had the right to accompany her master in confidential family meetings. The fact that Gillian, whom Victor favored, had been coaxed out of the carriage made Charlotte quite happy.

Ordinarily, a concubine’s status was very low; she had to do whatever her master said. But Charlotte was also an experienced female knight, a person of some standing in any family. Right now, she was relishing her role as a concubine and paid the young scholar from the House of Randell no mind at all.

This was, of course, a sign of contempt. Faced with a great scholar from another family, Charlotte would not have been so brazen. Victor could do little about her willfulness. After all, he was the one who had personally declared her status as both Sworn Knight and concubine.

The young scholar opposite Victor was handsome with a refined temperament, about eighteen or nineteen years old—an age ripe for youthful romance. At this moment, he sat with perfect posture, his eyes clear and his gaze steady, displaying a humble and respectful demeanor while also appearing poised and dignified.

Charlotte had always been renowned for her beauty in the noble circles of the Southern Realm. When she was the Viscount’s wife, she had paid attention to maintaining a dignified and elegant bearing. But now, as an experienced female knight who could resonate with twenty-four Elemental Nodes, she was even more beautiful in face and figure. Her inner thoughts influenced her external appearance, and by thinking of herself as a concubine, she exuded an astonishing coquettishness.

In the face of such beauty, the young scholar’s calm and composed demeanor earned Victor’s silent approval.

His name was Paul Randell. In the early days of the House of Randell’s expansion, the old spy Barol, on Victor’s orders, had adopted or purchased a group of young children from among the refugees in Black Fortress Town to be trained as family spies. Paul had been the most outstanding among them.

Later, when Victor wanted to cultivate scholars loyal to the family, he chose the thirteen-year-old Paul and another twelve-year-old girl, Maelyn. Narsen adopted them as his son and daughter, and then, at great expense, sent them to the Silver Spire to study.

Six years had passed in a flash. The gifted young spy had transformed into a handsome, upright young scholar with an extraordinary air. He excelled in his studies, earning praise from his mentors, and had undergone body reconstruction twice. He had also diligently trained in a level-two Source Blood Secret Art, making his strength and combat prowess comparable to an initial-rank apprentice knight.

That Little Paul, a boy of refugee stock, could achieve what he had today was a reflection of the rise of the House of Randell. In fact, apart from those who had met an unfortunate early death, most of the young spies from that original group now held positions of power, each capably managing their own sphere within the Quicksilver organization.

Victor had founded the House of Randell and changed the destinies of many. Looking at Paul was like admiring his own creation, and it gave him a sense of accomplishment.

“Paul, Quicksilver planted an informant by Raymond Peter’s side and cultivated forces in the Eastern Alliance. You were the one who planned both of these operations… Tell me the details.”

“Yes,” Paul said respectfully. “Three years ago, we selected Knight Wamon, who was serving hard labor on the Twilight Forest defense line, to be Quicksilver’s secret agent. Lord Tao De and I used Knight Jacob Ludwig’s hatred for Raymond Peter to orchestrate an attack. Lord Tao De disguised himself as a Ranger, first managed to get close to Knight Jacob and become one of his followers, and then secretly contacted Wamon, informing him of Lord Jacob’s distinguished status and the fact that Raymond Peter had murdered Jacob’s fiancée.”

“Lord Tao De led Wamon to believe that Jacob Ludwig was preparing to ambush and kill Raymond Peter during his inspection of the Twilight Forest to avenge his fiancée. Lord Tao De, partly by invitation and partly by threat, pressured Knight Wamon to participate in the assassination. If he refused, his entire family would be killed to ensure their silence.”

“On the day of the operation, Wamon lured Raymond Peter’s contingent to the ambush point as planned. Meanwhile, Lord Tao De brought Knight Jacob Ludwig there, staging a chance encounter. Jacob had no idea that his true identity had been discovered by Quicksilver, nor did he know about the assassination plot. He was completely in the dark… The Elite Guards under Lord Tao De’s command deliberately started a friction with Raymond Peter’s guards. When one drew his sword in a threatening manner, he was shot and killed by Raymond Peter, which triggered a melee between the two sides.”

“With the intervention of the accompanying priest, the bloody conflict was quickly stopped. Three of Lord Tao De’s side’s followers were killed. Seeing this, Jacob revealed his identity and challenged his wife’s murderer, Raymond Peter, to a duel.”

“The young master of the Peter family, of course, did not dare to duel a Great Knight from Aerie Fortress. When the priest’s attempts at persuasion failed, the two Silver Knights responsible for protecting Young Master Raymond intervened. They engaged Knight Jacob, but held back due to his status, merely obstructing him without going all out.”

“Thirty-four family death commandos, who had been lying in wait deep in the forest, received the signal and launched a surprise attack on Raymond Peter’s contingent. Jacob’s followers were also swept into the life-and-death struggle, but Raymond’s side had superior numbers, as well as an accompanying priest and a Sacred Warrior. Although Quicksilver’s secret art death commandos were all skilled fighters, they were at a disadvantage.”

“As expected, when Wamon saw things were going south, he did not assassinate Raymond Peter as previously agreed. Instead, he fought desperately to protect him.”

“In that battle, all the family death commandos perished, leaving no survivors. Jacob broke through the encirclement alone. His followers were either killed or wounded, and the survivors were all captured. As for Lord Tao De, he had remained on the periphery according to plan and escaped into the Twilight Forest ahead of time, where he was met by another team and extracted from the scene.”

“Later, Duke Meiding of the Kingdom of Sus personally took action and captured Knight Jacob. Wamon, having been gravely wounded while fighting desperately to protect Raymond Peter, won the latter’s favor… What we didn’t expect was that Wamon actually refused Young Master Peter’s offer of recruitment. He only begged Young Master Peter to take his underage second and youngest sons as attendants. He himself, along with his family, continued to serve hard labor on the Twilight Forest defense line.”

“Clearly, Wamon realized there was something wrong with the attack and suspected he was being targeted by the force behind Lord Tao De. But that doesn’t matter. An indicted knight stripped of his noble title would never dare to confess everything to the Peter family. At the right time, we will pay Knight Wamon a visit and, through his connection, manipulate the two attendants by Young Master Peter’s side. At the very least, we will be able to obtain intelligence on Raymond Peter.”

Paul paused for a moment before continuing, “I suspect Knight Wamon is already prepared to be used by us. I suggest that Lord Tao De find a way to place the family’s Elite Guards by Wamon’s side to protect him, so we don’t lose this line completely.”

He then went on to explain in detail the process by which Quicksilver was cultivating secret forces in the Eastern Alliance.

Quicksilver had quietly arranged for three groups. The first was a band of old Rangers and their followers, led by a man named Natal. A Quicksilver inner line spy and several Elite Guards, mixed in with a hundred refugees, had joined them. The second group consisted of indicted Nobles whose period of service in the Twilight Forest had ended. All the Knights in their families had been killed, and the remaining clan members could only be exiled to the Eastern Alliance. This time, Tao De feigned being seduced by one of the indicted noblewomen, Jessica. He mobilized a group of men from a Mountain folk stronghold, plus twenty Alchemical humans, disguised them as followers, and led these indicted Nobles to the shores of Lake Foert in the Eastern Alliance. It took them two years to establish a settlement nearby. He then staged his own death to escape and returned to the Randell Fief. The third group was a band of ruffians that Quicksilver had cracked down on. Driven to desperation, they had no choice but to flee to the coastline of the Eastern Alliance. Their leader was called Razor Jack, and he too had Quicksilver spies and Alchemical militia infiltrated into his ranks.

The Ranger Natal, the noblewoman Jessica, and Razor Jack—the leaders of these three small factions had one thing in common: they were completely unaware of Quicksilver, yet they were exceptionally reliant on the military strength Quicksilver had placed at their sides.

“That Tao De…”

After listening, Victor smiled and shook his head. He then changed the subject, “Barol considers you his most prized disciple and wants to pass the position of Quicksilver’s Chief to you. What are your thoughts?”

Paul gave a wry smile. “Master, Lord Tao De would kill me.”

Victor laughed loudly and nodded. “I favor Tao De as well. He desires the position of Quicksilver’s Chief more than you do. And you, you wish to be- a scholar now?”

Paul lowered his head and said earnestly, “Master, it was only after I went to the Silver Spire to study that I realized how narrow my perspective used to be. My classmates are all children of Nobles, and every one of them is smarter than me, yet I dare say my knowledge surpasses theirs. I hope to serve you with my learning, and I have the ambition to become the family’s Chief Scholar.”

Victor didn’t respond directly. He said in a gentle voice, “You and Maelyn are both adults now. You grew up together and studied together at the Silver Spire. I hear she has feelings for you. Why haven’t you accepted her affections?”

Paul’s expression turned serious. “Master, Maelyn and I are both spies raised by the family. Everything we have belongs to you. Our marriages can only be decided by you.”

Victor asked, “Do you like Maelyn?”

Paul hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. “Master, I do not have the feelings of a partner for Maelyn.”

“If I were to marry Maelyn to a stable hand at Quicksilver Manor, and I gave you one chance to object… would you?”

“Master, I would not object… I will abide by your will in all things!” Paul said without hesitation.

When Victor had first chosen Paul and Maelyn to study at the Silver Spire, the most basic objective criterion was their outstanding appearance, as beautiful people are more easily accepted in noble circles.

The House of Randell had invested vast resources in these two young scholars. Besides the exorbitant tuition fees paid to the scholars at the Silver Spire each year, they were also regularly supplied with precious potions and given opportunities for body reconstruction.

The body reconstruction invented by the Church was intended to unlock a Sacred Warrior’s Life’s Inner Potential, sharpen their mind power, and repair physical flaws to elevate their level of life. For ordinary people, body reconstruction was undoubtedly the most effective form of cosmetic surgery. The short could become tall; imperfect teeth could become white and even; dull eyes could become clear and pure; rough skin could become delicate and smooth. Minor physical flaws, both internal and external, would be significantly improved during the reconstruction process, as long as the recipient had a strong desire to become more beautiful.

Paul and Maelyn had undergone body reconstruction twice. Living in the noble circles of the Silver Spire, their desire for beauty and a fine appearance was certainly stronger than a desire for a burly body and immense strength. This was especially true for Maelyn; a love for beauty is the Nature of a young girl. Her originally eight-out-of-ten looks could now rival that of an average female apprentice knight.

As far as Victor knew, both Paul and Maelyn had encountered unwitting admirers during their studies at the Silver Spire, some of whom were children of Nobles. Cultivating scholars was expensive; if one could use love to pull the adopted son and daughter of Lordship Narsen Randall into their own family, it seemed like a bargain no matter how one looked at it. After all, their adoptive father was just a minor lordship; poaching them wouldn’t cause any major problems. However, as His Highness Randell’s fame spread, no one dared to have designs on Paul or Maelyn anymore, just as few would dare to steal a Dragon’s treasure.

Paul was right. Spies were not Vassals or freemen; they were more like the master’s private property. Paul and Maelyn’s personal feelings were meaningless before Victor. If necessary, Victor could give Maelyn away as a gift to reward a family member.

Under these circumstances, for Paul to accept Maelyn’s declaration of love would be a very grave mistake.

Victor believed that Paul actually looked down on Maelyn. He was capable and ambitious, and made no effort to hide it. By resolving to become the Chief Scholar of the House of Randell, he would have the right to marry a true noblewoman. Even if her looks were average, it would be more beneficial to his own advancement than asking his master for Maelyn’s hand.

Once family death commandos were granted a marriage by their master and formed a family, they gained the status of Vassals.

The young Paul came from humble beginnings but was single-mindedly scheming to climb into high society. In Victor’s eyes, his ambition, perseverance, knowledge, and intelligence were all ultimately irrelevant. The key was that he knew how to follow the rules.

Women serving the sons of nobility, and men marrying noblewomen—this in itself was a method for the noble class to absorb talent and stabilize their family’s power. Victor himself had married Narsen’s little sister, Lilia, which had turned the War Bear Mercenaries into his staunchest Partisans.

As a great lord, the Gold-Eyed Earl was a beneficiary of Order. Paul’s desire to marry a noblewoman was entirely in line with the rules set by the nobility. As long as he was truly capable enough, there was nothing wrong with it.

Victor, on the other hand, was disappointed in the emotionally simple Maelyn. Although she had excelled in her studies and had not done anything out of line, she had forgotten her place. The House of Randell had spent resources cultivating her as a scholar, not for her to go to the Silver Spire to fall in love.

Ambition wasn’t frightening. What was frightening was when the wildfire in one’s heart burned down the fences of Order. One day, it would burn oneself to death and endanger the family’s interests.

Ultimately, Maelyn was the Gold-Eyed Earl’s private property. Victor had invested heavily in her; he would rather marry her to a stable hand at the manor than let an outsider have her for free.

Of course, a stable hand at Silver Moon Manor was not worthy of a beautiful young female scholar. Victor had other plans for Maelyn.

He said to Paul, “I am pleased with your performance and intend to grant you a reward… Sit still, and relax…”

A current of air swirled through the carriage, passing over the Chillstone Dais used for cooling and enveloping Paul’s body. He felt a cool breeze permeate his pores and skin, flowing within him. The young scholar sat there, not daring to move in the slightest, even trying to suppress any extraneous thoughts. In the unseen world, he realized that at this moment, his master could perceive all his mysteries. Everything he knew, and everything he didn’t, was laid bare before his master’s eyes. Even his life and death rested on his master’s whim.

After a while, Victor stopped his wind element Insight and said faintly, “That’s enough. You may leave.”

Meeting his master’s dark gold eyes, Paul felt as if he were facing a deity, filled with a deep sense of awe. In a tone bordering on pious, he said, “Paul abides by your will, my noble Master.”

Paul was a talent meticulously cultivated by the House of Randell, but no matter how intelligent he was, he was still just an ordinary person. Nobles with a knight’s bloodline were inherently smarter than mortals, a gap that could not be bridged by effort alone. Victor had used wind element Insight to perceive Paul’s inner potential and deduce his bloodline characteristics. He intended to create a Mind Bloodline secret art for him, aimed at increasing his intelligence, as a reward.

This was, in fact, a crucial experiment related to simulating X-3’s Mind Bloodline secret art, which could grant partial abilities of rapid calculation and super memory.

Experiments certainly came with risks. Victor, Sylvia, and Tofwen the Wizard—three top-tier extraordinary beings—had worked closely together for over half a year to master two mature Mind Bloodline secret arts. One was the common path Mind Warriors, which granted the Vital Tenacity Talent; the other was a Knight path secret art that allowed an apprentice knight to gain the Vital Tenacity Talent. In the process of perfecting these secret arts, many test subjects had encountered problems.

If Paul were to practice the common path third-level Source Blood Secret Art, with the aid of potions, there would be basically no room for error. But he might not be willing to become a two-meter-tall giant weighing over one hundred kilograms. In that case, no matter how he trained in the third-level Source Blood Secret Art, his efforts would be largely wasted, and success would be difficult to achieve.

The Mind Bloodline secret art placed the utmost importance on the practitioner’s willpower and desire.

Regarding the Mind Bloodline secret art that simulated X-3, Victor had no shortage of experimental subjects. He could do whatever he wanted with the Alchemical humans, and the Centaur Hills could provide him with death-row inmates. However, Paul’s aspiration to become a noble scholar, his perseverance, and his resolve were important conditions that other test subjects would find difficult to possess.

Victor planned to take advantage of the time while the old wizard Tofwen was still alive to combine his own Insight talent and create the Mind Bloodline secret art that simulated X-3. This would minimize the risks. Even if a problem arose, Victor could detect it in time, halt the experiment, and avoid harming Paul.

However, there was no need for Victor to explain this clearly to Paul right now.

Just as Paul left the carriage, a pair of shapely, fair, and lustrous arms wrapped around Victor’s neck. Charlotte asked affectionately, “My dear Master, who is Knight Wamon?”

Chapter 707: The Weaver

”

”

Hearing Charlotte’s question, Victor feigned surprise. He looked at his beautiful and charming concubine, saw only clarity in her eyes, and let his teasing smile fall away. He nodded in praise, “Good. This is the first time you’ve asked me about secret affairs. I am very pleased.”

”

”

Charlotte took Victor’s hand and pressed it against her own delicate, smooth cheek, sighing softly, “Before, I didn’t dare to ask, for fear that Your Highness would scold me. Now, I’m afraid of being useless… afraid that I’ll no longer be worthy of staying by your side.”

”

”

She fell silent for a moment before saying softly, “The Briatte family is just a minor family; none of the Viscounts through the generations had Sworn Knights. When I was still the Viscount’s wife, I thought I was the family’s second-in-command, but I wasn’t… The Viscount’s younger brother, Austin, was the true second-in-command. I finally understood later. To groom his heir, Primo, Viscount Briart needed him to feel the warmth of a family, and that was why Lady Judy existed. If I hadn’t been able to bear Viscount Briart an heir, I could only have been one of his concubines…”

”

”

“Master, it seems the only thing I know how to be is a concubine,” Charlotte said coquettishly, pouting her red lips slightly.

”

”

Victor pinched Charlotte’s cheek and teased with a smile, “You’re not that slow.”

”

”

Surprisingly, Charlotte didn’t take the opportunity to act spoiled and curry favor. Instead, she gazed at Victor with tender eyes and said seriously, “Your Highness, I want to prove my worth by your side… To be able to help Lord Raging Wind Sword Saint would be my greatest achievement.”

”

”

As one’s level of life changes, so do their perspectives and thoughts. Victor had experienced different stages—Baron of a Pioneer Fief, Viscount Randell, the Gold-Eyed Earl, His Highness Randell, and the Raging Wind Sword Saint—and understood different points of view. Charlotte was no exception. However, she had taken Vigor Potions and Gold Potions, advancing from an apprentice knight to an experienced female knight in less than four years. Her accumulation was insufficient, and the change was so rapid that she hadn’t yet been able to clearly understand herself.

”

”

Fortunately, the difference in the level of life between a senior knight and an apprentice knight is significant. Lady Judy might have been content basking in the glory of being Viscount Briart’s wife, indifferent to her path as an extraordinary being being cut off, but Charlotte Randell would feel deep regret and unwillingness.

”

”

Victor wrapped an arm around Charlotte’s slender waist and asked calmly, “What do you plan to do?”

”

”

“Truthfully, a mere Bronze-rank senior knight like me isn’t qualified to be the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s Sworn Knight.” Charlotte rested her head on Victor’s shoulder, chuckled softly, and added with a hint of jealousy, “But Countess Andria Wimbledon would be.”

”

”

Victor chuckled in amusement. “Silver-rank Sworn Knights only exist within royal families, and the bond must be nurtured from childhood… Sylvia and Trisley are special cases. As for Andria, she has been the heir to an earldom since birth. Even if she returned to the Centaur Hills with me, she could only be a lord, not swear an oath of fealty to me. Besides, Silver-rank female knights aren’t suitable to be my Sworn Knights…”

”

”

Victor was not Sylvia. His power was great, but he lacked the majesty of a Spirit Knight. If they spent enough time together, any Silver-rank female knight would take pleasure in ‘bullying’ the Raging Wind Sword Saint.

”

”

“My master is self-aware.”

”

”

Charlotte giggled for a while, then, before Victor’s face could darken, she quickly added, “My strength is insignificant before you, Master. I lack even the ability to keep pace with Your Highness. But since you can appreciate Paul’s talent, then I, too, have a chance to assist you and win your favor.”

”

”

Victor was the head of the House of Randell, and Nicole was second-in-command; Sylvia was the head of the Centaur Hills, and Victor was second-in-command. Although Sylvia always presented herself as His Highness Randell’s wife, both in public and in private, and rarely contradicted Victor’s decisions—even when their opinions differed, she would use gentle methods and clever persuasion to preserve her husband’s dignity—Victor acknowledged that Spirit Knights were born family leaders. All Knight-Nobles believed that a Spirit Knight’s majesty was unchallengeable.

”

”

The two heads of the family complemented each other and couldn’t be together at all times. Sworn Knights, however, were inseparable from their masters. Their power came from their master; they were the leader of the personal guard, as well as the first scribe and first courier. In Victor’s eyes, Charlotte was his personal assistant—the most intimate and trusted kind.

”

”

Victor didn’t care about Charlotte’s strength; even if she were a Gold-rank Raging Wave Knight, she couldn’t replace Caligula. However, Caligula could barely recognize any words. The moment Victor told him to read, he would fall asleep—he had even evolved the extraordinary ability to sleep with his eyes open. In certain situations, Victor needed a subordinate at his side to make the right decisions for him. For instance, when he fell into a coma on the Great Plains, someone had to be able to lead his attendants and negotiate with the great nobles and high-ranked priests on his behalf during his period of dormancy.

”

”

Charlotte was the only suitable candidate. Most of the people Victor conversed with were top-tier extraordinary beings, and ordinary people would find it difficult to resist their spiritual will. Moreover, a senior knight’s level of life had already touched the threshold of the extraordinary, making them superior to ordinary people in every aspect. Take Paul, for example. Even if he achieved some success in cultivating the Mind Bloodline secret art, he wouldn’t be smarter than Charlotte unless he abandoned certain things and took an extreme path. This could be compared to the infertile Tofwen the Wizard and the wise gnomes under his command.

”

”

How could such misshapen people walk in the light of day and converse so freely with the great nobles?

”

”

Charlotte had suffered a great calamity, driven out of her family by her own son and relatives. When she sought refuge at Silver Moon Manor, Nicole deliberately made things difficult for her, ostracizing and suppressing her, trying every means to isolate her so that Victor would become her sole reason for staying. When Victor appeared and bestowed upon her the new name of Charlotte Randell, His Highness Randell became her only spiritual pillar, and from this, she established her knight’s conviction.

”

”

His Highness Randell lacked a loyal Sworn Knight. If Rose Manor were to select a knight’s child of noble bloodline and train them from a young age, Victor had no idea how long he would have to wait for a satisfactory assistant.

”

”

Sylvia had once mentioned giving Judy to Victor to be his concubine and Sworn Knight. She had said it, and she had done it.

”

”

Victor understood that Charlotte needed some time to build the confidence and perspective of a senior knight and adapt to her change in status. For the past two years, Charlotte had followed His Highness Randell everywhere, rarely voicing her own opinions, only accompanying him silently and observing quietly. That she would take the initiative to ask a question today pleased him.

”

”

A Sworn Knight needed to have a tacit understanding with their master. Making the right decisions required a foundation of symmetrical information. Aside from the secrets of the Alchemical Empire, there was no need for Victor to hide most of the schemes he was orchestrating from Charlotte.

”

”

“Wamon is just a small fry…” Victor chuckled softly and said slowly, “He was originally a vassal knight of Marquess Dwemick, a great lord in the Southern Realm of the Dodor Kingdom. He relied on Vigor Potions to advance to Bronze-rank and served as the magistrate of Stonetooth City. A few years ago, the lords of the Dodor Kingdom worked with the Borui Merchant Association to suppress Sophia’s trade routes and business in Dodor. On Marquess Dwemick’s orders, Wamon also put in a great deal of effort.”

”

”

“Not long after, Earl Horton Ludwig, representing the Dodor Royal Family, attended the grand wedding celebration of King Edward and Queen Anna. On his way back, he was attacked by bandits while passing through Marquess Dwemick’s fief and was unfortunately killed in battle. Magistrate Wamon, who was responsible for escorting the Golden Dawn Sparrow Earl, deserted his post and fled. For this, he was punished by the Inquisition, stripped of his noble status, and his entire family was exiled to serve on the Twilight Forest’s defensive line, fighting against the incursions of the Twilight Gnolls.”

”

”

Hearing these two seemingly unrelated incidents from Victor’s lips, Charlotte gasped in a low voice, “Horton Ludwig was assassinated on Marchioness Wimbledon’s orders?”

”

”

“It was bandits… The Church has already reached a conclusion,” Victor corrected her.

”

”

“Oh… bandits.” Charlotte nodded hastily, clinging to her beloved master like an octopus.

”

”

Victor stroked Charlotte’s soft, golden hair, a cold curve forming on his lips. He said, “Several of the key ingredients in the Gold Potion you took were brought back by Sophia from the Arreat Plateau. The lords of the Dodor Kingdom had a stranglehold on the trade routes Sophia operated. If we hadn’t taught them a bitter lesson, they never would have spoken to Sophia as equals.”

”

”

“There’s something else I never told you.” Victor nodded and said, “Austin Briart’s pursuit of you and Primo back then was likely also a conspiracy orchestrated by the Dodor Royal Family.”

”

”

“You heard that Austin had received a secret letter from Grand Duke Williams, saying that Queen Catherine intended to interfere in the Briatte family’s affairs and support Primo as the heir to the viscounty. Fearing Austin would murder Primo first, you fled overnight. But have you ever considered this? You fled towards the Centaur Hills. At that time, the conflict between Aerie Fortress and the York family was intense, and lords of the kingdom were forbidden from defecting to the Centaur Hills. Austin didn’t dare defy the Royal Family’s will. He had to intercept you before Sylvia could get her hands on Primo Briart, to prevent the Briatte family from being drawn into the vortex of conflict between the Royal Family and the York family.”

”

”

“In reality, Catherine never interfered with the Briatte family’s affairs, nor did Grand Duke Williams send a secret envoy to contact Austin… at least, they have never admitted to it. So, who was the Grand Duke’s secret envoy that Austin’s steward saw? We believe he was a Wizard sent by the Dodor Kingdom, and that even your own uncharacteristic actions were the result of Wizardry.”

”

”

Charlotte’s willow-like brows furrowed slightly as she asked in a calm tone, “Why would the Dodor Royal Family do that? The Briatte family is just a minor family…”

”

”

“At that time, the Sasan Empire was preparing to conquer the Black-hoof Centaur tribes. They spread rumors that the Sasan Imperial Family intended to propose a marriage alliance to Princess Roland Auguste. The King of Dodor was worried that the Gambis Kingdom and the Sasan Empire would form an alliance and annex Dodor’s territory and knightly families… Don’t forget, Gambis had concealed Sylvia’s identity at first, with the original intention of annexing Dodor. If Roland had married Crown Prince Siegfried Friedrich, the conflict between the Yorks and the Augustes could have been shifted towards the Dodor Kingdom, and Sylvia would have led the powerful lords of Gambis to launch a new northern expedition.”

”

”

“A liege lord has an obligation to protect their vassals. If the Briatte family, from the Gambis Kingdom, had come into conflict with me at that critical moment, and Austin had then harmed me, how do you think Sylvia and Aerie Fortress would have reacted?”

”

”

“Of course, we have no proof, but for matters like this, we don’t need proof. The Dodor Kingdom was responsible for the death of a Silver Knight from Gambis, and Earl Horton Ludwig also died at the hands of bandits.”

”

”

But you were the one who killed Austin, and it was for me… Hearing Victor recount these secrets, Charlotte was surprised to find no sorrow or resentment in her heart, but rather a hint of sweetness and yearning. She laughed coquettishly, “This all feels so distant from me now. I’m just glad I have Your Highness’s protection… Should I be thanking the King of Dodor?”

”

”

Charlotte was no longer the Lady Judy of the past.

”

”

Victor nodded to himself and said plainly, “Behind hatred lies fear, and fear represents one’s own weakness, the powerlessness one feels when facing those who weave fate. Now, I too am a weaver. I have no need for anger or resentment. They are useless and without benefit; they would only cloud my mind and cause me to make irreparable mistakes.”

”

”

“Just like how Raymond Peter murdered Jacob Ludwig’s fiancée, and he also sent assassins after me…”

”

”

“What? That Raymond Peter deserves to die!” Two flames of fury ignited in Charlotte’s emerald eyes. She said angrily, “What right does he have to plot against His Highness Randell? Does he think he’s the King of Dodor?”

”

”

Her disgust for Raymond’s lack of self-awareness and audacity in offending the noble His Highness Randell outweighed her anger over the assassination attempt itself.

”

”

Victor didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. At that time, he had only been an insignificant minor noble.

”

”

“Raymond Peter holds many secrets. It’s possible he was the one who produced the Gold Potion formula. I believe the ruling family of the Kingdom of Borea planted an informant near him, hoping to lure out the mysterious power behind Raymond. But they weren’t willing to get entangled in major trouble, which is why Grand Duke Peter sent him to the Kingdom of Sus.” Victor paused before continuing, “My scheme against Raymond Peter, and my cultivation of influence in the Eastern Alliance, are all part of weaving a net of my own.”

”

”

“When the time comes, I must be able to know… and I must be able to act.”

”

”

A strange sense of satisfaction welled up from deep within Charlotte’s heart. Her eyes became hazy as she couldn’t help but offer Victor a sweet kiss. “My love, you are my glory.”

”

”

After a bout of intimacy with his sworn female knight, Victor said, “No one can plan for everything, and I only have one mind. So you must assist me… From now on, I will tell you everything you ought to know. If there’s anything you don’t understand, you can ask.”

”

”

The lovely Charlotte pursed her lips into a smile and asked, “If I satisfy you, Master, will there be a reward?”

”

”

“What reward do you want?”

”

”

“First, don’t ever send me away. I want the right to always be by your side.” Charlotte thought for a moment, her eyes shining brightly with desire as she asked, “I also want to become stronger… strong enough to keep up with you, Master.”

”

”

“The first request is no problem, of course. As for the second…” Victor frowned, saying with some difficulty, “A senior knight is already at the limit of balance. The void element constantly replenishes the body, granting strength, toughness, wisdom, agility, health, and beauty all at once. The next step up is a Silver Knight; there doesn’t seem to be any other path. I’m afraid the Mind Bloodline secret art will have a hard time helping you improve your strength.”

”

”

Charlotte said, somewhat disappointed, “Then… what about Narsen and Caligula? One is Silver-rank, the other Gold-rank…”

”

”

“They paid a price,” Victor interjected with a smile. “Haven’t you noticed those two are a bit slow? They aren’t actually idiots. It’s because their bodies are too powerful and require more power of the mind to control, so their minds are simple.”

”

”

“My dear, you’re not weak at all. You can overturn this red copper carriage with one hand, and you possess an enviable beauty. Would you really want to be as tall and stout as a female barbarian?”

”

”

“Of course not,” Charlotte said with a look of disdain.

”

”

Victor smiled and mused for a moment. Pushing open the carriage window, he gazed at the passing scenery and sighed leisurely, “I created the Mind Bloodline secret art and interpreted the mysteries of the Law of Creation. It might not be impossible to allow a Bronze-rank senior knight to advance further… I need to see someone and ask for his guidance on a few questions. I hope he can give me more inspiration.”

”

”

“He is also a remarkable weaver. Unfortunately, he’s so old he’s on the verge of death… I wonder, who will he leave the net he so painstakingly wove to?”

”

”

Chapter 708: The Successor

Six nights later, His Highness Randell’s carriage finally arrived in Blinor City. The residents of the Royal Capital were already deep in their dreams, and the cobblestone streets were empty, devoid of pedestrians save for the patrolling night watch. However, Marquess Golan, a Gold Knight of the kingdom, accompanied Cardinal Archbishop Saen to the lower districts of the capital to welcome His Highness Randell.

Victor and Archbishop Saen exchanged greetings and a few pleasantries, agreeing to meet at Brinol Cathedral for prayers the next morning. Afterward, he took a few of his confidants, switched to a lighter carriage, and quietly headed for Aerie Fortress with Marquess Golan.

The Auguste family’s royal palace was practically a town built of fortresses and castles. Victor had lived there for several years in his youth but was only familiar with one corner of it, a place where over two hundred little attendants could live and study together without it feeling crowded. Victor suspected Aerie Fortress could house more than twenty thousand people for a long-term siege. He now felt a strong urge to ascend to its highest point and gaze upon the full panorama of the royal palace to test his theory.

But such an act would be beneath the dignity of the Raging Wind Sword Saint, and Marquess Golan was right beside him.

Golan led Victor down an alleyway he didn’t recognize. The castle stone walls on either side, long deprived of sunlight, were covered in dark moss. A chill draft carried the distinct, decaying scent of the stone moss. Along the way, Victor saw no palace guards. Only the shuffling of their own footsteps echoed in the dark, damp alley, creating a heavy and oppressive atmosphere.

“Even climbing the castles on either side wouldn’t bring you to the highest point of the palace,” Marquess Golan said abruptly.

From the moment they met until now, the two had barely spoken. This was because His Highness Randell had returned, but Roland had not.

After a brief silence, Victor asked, “Lord Golan, can you guess my thoughts?”

Golan replied in a low voice, “This place is like a maze. Ordinary knights can only move forward or backward along the designed paths; they cannot see what surrounds them. With the help of a Konjac potion, I delved into the Elemental Sea and mastered a third Transcendent combat skill. I can sense that Your Highness’s thoughts are like the wind element—ubiquitous, pervasive, and refusing to be bound.”

Victor said, “It’s not necessarily related to elemental affinity. All those in power wish to stand on high and gaze into the distance, to see the whole picture.”

Marquess Golan nodded. “Another common trait of those in power is that they enjoy watching others from on high, wandering below, unable to see their surroundings, forced to follow preset paths. However, creating those preconceived paths is no easy task. It requires the collective effort of several generations of rulers, just as Aerie Fortress took over seven hundred years of renovations to achieve its current layout.”

“Look at the walls on either side. There are several crystal mirrors installed on them… During the day, guards in the watchtowers can use these mirrors to observe any movement on this path.”

“When Roland was young, she loved to play hide-and-seek here, not knowing she could never truly hide… When she grew older, she took to climbing the watchtowers to monitor this path, to see who would walk here and what they would do.” A nostalgic smile appeared on Marquess Golan’s face.

Victor paused, then said impassively, “Is that so?”

Golan’s smile vanished. He said solemnly, “If Your Highness is interested, I can take you to the highest point of Aerie Fortress to look out over the panoramic view of the Auguste royal palace… The Auguste family now firmly believes that Your Highness possesses this right.”

Victor said nothing. By ascending to the highest point of Aerie Fortress, he could grasp the entire defensive layout of the Auguste royal palace with a single, sweeping gaze. Only core members of the Auguste family possessed the right to ascend to that vantage point. Golan, the Guardian of the Auguste family, had extended this invitation to Victor because the Raging Wind Sword Saint had sworn an oath in Windbell Town to uphold the status of Aerie Fortress’s true royal line and the Auguste family’s bloodline legacy.

Unless Sylvia were to completely break with Victor, she too would be bound by his oath. With the Raging Wind Sword Saint and the Spirit Knight jointly guaranteeing the status and legacy of the Auguste family, Aerie Fortress’s rule over the Gambis Empire was all but unshakable.

And all of this had been bought with the sacrifice of the eldest Auguste princess. Regardless of whether Roland had truly perished, it was a fact that she had unhesitatingly rushed to his aid at his most perilous moment. The eldest princess of the Auguste family had not stood by and watched Sylvia’s partner, the Guardian of the Centaur Hills, die in a legendary beastman’s counterattack.

Stepping out of the alleyway into the bright moonlight, Victor stopped and said with great solemnity, “I will.”

“This way,” Marquess Golan nodded, leading Victor and the others into a medicinal field on the left.

They crossed fields planted with various herbs and arrived before a small castle. The guards at the castle opened the main gate, allowing Marquess Golan and Victor to walk in side-by-side.

The air inside the small castle was thick with the potent smell of potions. Victor and Marquess Golan rounded a screen in the antechamber and saw numerous Potion Masters busily preparing potions in the brightly lit main hall.

“This is a secret fortress dedicated to concocting potions. There are three others in the royal palace. The Master Tofwen is on the third floor. Let’s go up.”

Golan offered a brief explanation as he led Victor up a spiral staircase to the third floor of the small castle, all the way to a room at the end of a corridor.

Several Secret Art Guards were stationed in the corners of the room. Tofwen the Wizard, with his clouded eyes and aged face, sat in a wheelchair. Standing behind him was a red-haired, green-eyed, high-ranking female knight of mature and stunning beauty.

“Countess Ariel, so you are also a member of the Faceless.” Victor stepped forward, smiling as he greeted the tutor who had once taught him courtly etiquette.

“Your Highness must have long guessed that I am one of the Faceless.” Countess Ariel, clad in Mithril armor, performed a Knight’s salute. Her beautiful eyes swept over Victor’s retinue, her gaze finally landing on Charlotte. She smiled with pursed lips. “And this beautiful lady must be your Sworn Knight, Charlotte?”

In truth, Charlotte’s beauty and features were in no way inferior to Countess Ariel’s, but she lacked Ariel’s natural, coquettish charm, and paled considerably in comparison.

Almost every silver female knight who saw Charlotte with Victor would purposefully display her own charm, her gaze toward Charlotte filled with scrutiny and provocation.

This was, of course, an unconscious loss of composure from a high-ranking female knight in the presence of His Highness Randell. Charlotte was already used to it. She secretly circulated her Aura, focused her mind, and purged the influence of Countess Ariel’s spirit. After performing an elegant Knight’s salute, she stood quietly by Victor’s side.

Victor paid no mind to the subtle conflicts between the female knights. He bowed to the old Wizard with a hand to his chest and said warmly, “Master, you seem to be in good spirits. When I received the letter from Aerie Fortress, I was very concerned for your health.”

Tofwen cracked a toothless, silent smile. “The message from Aerie Fortress telling Your Highness I was on my last legs was not a deliberate deception… I know my own body. Barring any accidents, I can live for another eight years. However, my soul is decaying. Soon, I will lose my wisdom and forget most of my memories. How is that any different from death?”

“It is the perfect time to meet with Your Highness, while I am still of some use.”

Victor had no great affection for Tofwen. The old man had furtively cultivated the little Baron’s Moon Elf bloodline; had Victor not become a Highness, he likely would never have shown his face.

Briefly lamenting the old Wizard’s impending decline and the loss of his ability and wisdom, Victor walked over to the fireplace. He reached out to touch a bizarrely shaped object and exclaimed with great interest, “Lorrin actually made it?”

It was a large grandfather clock. Its case was crafted from redwood timber from the Gloomy Forest and inlaid with two layers of transparent crystal. Below, a red copper pendulum swung back and forth, driving the two Adamantine hands on the clock face above to move in a circle.

Victor remembered that Roland had a large-headed dwarf jester named Lorrin, the most skilled craftsman Victor had ever met. To please Roland, the dwarf Lorrin had not only invented the music box but had also improved upon Victor’s design for a paddle-wheel ship, replacing the paddle wheel with a system of linked sculling oars to create the much more agile and swift Flying Fish Boat.

Amazed by Lorrin’s talent and skill, Victor had explained the principles of a gear clock to him, hoping he could create a precisely structured, spring-driven clock for timekeeping.

Two years later, the first prototype of a clock in the human kingdoms was now before him.

“This thing is too cumbersome. It’s not as useful as a crystal hourglass timer,” Tofwen’s old, breathy voice came from behind.

“New things are never perfect at the start, just like the straw paper invented in Randell Fief. Right now, it can only be used for personal hygiene, but in a few decades, after continuous improvements by craftsmen, straw paper might be used for writing and be inexpensive. Animal hide parchment will be replaced by the new paper,” Victor said with a smile, turning around after retracting his Elemental Insight from the clock’s interior.

Walking over to the sofa and sitting down, Victor continued, “It is indeed too large now, but it is a start… When clocks are small enough to be carried around, they will shine in every field. For example, tactical coordination in pioneer wars, and precise timing for potion-making.”

Tofwen chuckled. “That would be very practical. A pity I won’t live to see it. Fortunately, the descendants of the Auguste family will be able to use the new paper and smaller clocks. They will be grateful to Your Highness.”

“They should be more grateful to Master Lorrin, and to you,” Victor said pointedly.

The dwarf Lorrin and his dwarven brothers were special Secret Art Guards, trained by Tofwen the Wizard. In a sense, the little Baron of Wimbledon had also benefited from Tofwen’s guidance.

“An orderly legacy is what has created the Gambis Kingdom of today, and what will create the Gambis Empire of the future,” Marquess Golan interjected, seated in the other armchair.

The extraordinary achievements Tofwen the Wizard had made in the field of Potion-making were also greatly related to the resources accumulated by Aerie Fortress.

Victor nodded in agreement, then gave an order, “Paul, come over and shake hands with Master Tofwen. Then the rest of you can wait for me in the lounge.”

The young scholar vaguely sensed that the reward his master had spoken of was about to fall upon this aged Potion Master. He stepped forward, bowed respectfully, and lightly shook Tofwen’s hand. After receiving a nod from his master, he left the room with Narsen, Caligula, and Charlotte.

After a long while, once he was sure His Highness Randell’s retinue was far away, Marquess Golan waved his hand, dismissing all the Secret Art Guards from the room. Master Tofwen mused, “Was that boy just now the experimental subject Your Highness prepared? What is it you wish for me to do?”

“No rush. Look at this first.” Victor waved his hand, took a sheepskin letter from his pocket, and handed it to the old Wizard.

Tofwen took out a crystal magnifying glass and carefully perused the contents of the letter. He looked up at Victor, his face full of surprise, which then slowly calmed. After a moment of thought, he nodded and said, “The content recorded here is mostly consistent with the conclusions I just reached about his bloodline using Wizardry… Your Highness, where did you get this?”

Victor shook his head and explained, “I haven’t found a Wizard with abilities similar to the Master’s. The content of the letter comes from my own judgment… After stepping into the Saint realm, I gained the transcendent ability of Elemental Insight. It’s not a High-ranked Knight’s elemental perception, but it can delve deep into the minute changes on the physical plane. I used Paul as an experimental subject to gain insight into the workings of his inner potential. Combining that with my knowledge in the field of Mind Bloodlines, I deduced his bloodline status. I asked the Master to test Paul’s bloodline variation today so that I could compare it with this letter and verify whether my Deduction was accurate.”

Marquess Golan suddenly asked, “Victor, are you seeking to inherit the entirety of Master Tofwen’s research in Potion-making?”

A flash of surprise and delight crossed Victor’s mind. His expression became utterly sincere as he nodded, indicating that he did indeed desire Tofwen’s legacy.

Tofwen and Marquess Golan exchanged a smile. Leaning back in his chair, Tofwen said slowly, “Your Highness, it would be rude and arrogant of me to say you are also one of the Faceless. But in the beginning, I did indeed think of you as a member… In truth, I knew in my heart that a Moon Elf bloodline noble was the best partner for Sylvia. Moreover, the York family has high-ranking female knights; Sylvia would have tried to cultivate the Gale Knight bloodline as long as there was a sliver of hope. When the Faceless sent you to Sylvia, it was impossible for her to give up on you, and I was even more afraid of angering her. Therefore, you were simply a Moon Elf bloodline noble. The Faceless left no means of control on you. Their only trump card in negotiations with the York family was simply giving their high-ranking female knights the opportunity to bear your descendants.”

“Williams once tried to lay the groundwork to recall you to the Faceless… Heh, his idea was too risky. Both Golan and I were opposed. Now, Your Highness is an influential figure of great importance, the most powerful Sanctuary-rank expert in the human kingdoms, the renowned Raging Wind Sword Saint. You swore an oath in Windbell Town, which makes you a semi-Guardian of the Auguste family.”

“I have already thought it through. I am prepared to give all of my original notes to Your Highness. In addition to knowledge of Potion-making, they also record the Devil’s whispers I have heard. Some are mysteries of the Law concerning potions and Bloodlines, while others are incomprehensible, fragmented words… With Your Highness’s transcendent wisdom, perhaps you can find valuable information within them.”

Victor was visibly moved. He hesitated for a moment before asking, “What does the Master require of me?”

Marquess Golan interjected, “Lorrin’s brother, Glyn, is currently in Randell Fief researching the secret potion for Mind Warriors. His achievements in Potion-making are in no way inferior to Master Tofwen’s. I believe that with Your Highness’s transcendent wisdom and talent for Insight, you will soon surpass Glyn in the field of Mental Potion-making. We plan to send court Potion Masters to Randell Fief to build a secret fortress. We will jointly research Mental Potion-making and Mind Bloodline secret arts, with both sides sharing all research findings completely.”

Victor said without hesitation, “I agree to the cooperation. We will completely share research findings within the scope of the secret fortress. Aerie Fortress can dispatch secret knights to supervise the affairs of the secret fortress… Hmm, but no high-ranking female knights.”

Hearing Victor’s words, Ariel couldn’t help but roll her eyes coquettishly and cover her mouth with her hand as she laughed. “Your Highness is so heartless.”

Victor was long accustomed to being teased by high-ranking female knights. He simply said, “I plan to stay in Aerie Fortress for some time. I have a few ideas concerning Mind Bloodline talents that will require Master Tofwen’s support.”

“It would be my honor, Your Highness.” Tofwen nodded and extended a hand. “Let me see your current bloodline status again.”

Victor held out his left hand for Tofwen to grasp. After a moment, seeing the furrows on the old Wizard’s face deepen, he asked, “Is there a problem?”

“Alas…” Tofwen shook his head with a bitter smile. “When I received the news that Your Highness had stepped into the Saint realm so quickly, I suspected your bloodline had undergone another unknown variation… I was not wrong. Your bloodline is now unimaginably powerful. The Fertility Potions I prepared for Lady Trisley are all ineffective… Your Highness, I am very sorry. The chance of her conceiving your descendant is infinitesimal. It is too late for me to re-concoct the Fertility Potions. I am too old… The four hundred and twenty thousand Gold Sols the York family paid for the potions, we will return it to Her Highness Sylvia.”

Victor was taken aback for a moment. He recalled Father Miller telling him he would have four children and finally understood: it wasn’t that he could only have four descendants, but that he would have only four children in the future.

He sighed inwardly, waved his hand, and rose to take his leave. “It doesn’t matter. That bit of money is nothing to Sylvia now, so let’s just forget about it… It is late. I would like to visit Catherine and her daughter. We can continue our discussion tomorrow when we have time.”

“As you wish, Your Highness.”

After leaving Master Tofwen, Victor stood in the corridor and glanced back at the door. He said softly to Marquess Golan, who was beside him, “I don’t believe Roland has perished…”

Golan was silent for a moment before replying in a low voice, “I don’t want to believe it either, but the Gambis Kingdom has indeed lost Princess Roland Auguste.”

Chapter 709: First Meeting

At the crack of dawn, Catherine awoke from a deep sleep, opening her eyes to find herself alone in the soft, comfortable bed. She hugged the silky rabbit-fur blanket, lying languidly as she savored the memory of last night’s passionate indulgence with her lover after their long separation. A blush crept across Duchess Catherine Osvid’s cheeks, but when she thought of how Victor had snuck out of bed at some unknown hour, a hint of resentment stirred in her heart. She couldn’t help but pout her red lips and mutter, “That rascal.”

Catherine slipped on a silver spider silk nightgown, tying a thin sash at her waist. Her delicate, snow-white feet padded across the wool carpet as she gracefully made her way to the nursery next door.

The curtains blocked the morning light. The scents of cat’s eye amber and night poppy filled the room with a tranquil and serene air. Victor, dressed in thin pajamas, was kneeling motionless before the small crib, his gaze fixed on the tiny, pink-cheeked little one inside.

She had the same black hair as Victor and was sleeping soundly with her eyes closed. Her face was chubby and round, her little hands and feet plump, her eyelashes long, thick, and curved. This delicate, rosy infant was simply the Creator’s most magnificent masterpiece. Victor stared at her as if he were beholding a miracle, a treasure, a gift from above, unwilling to even blink.

His Highness Randell held his breath, slowed his heartbeat, and controlled the airflow in the room, terrified of waking the little darling from her slumber.

Seeing her lover’s back, still as a sculpture, Catherine felt a wave of warmth and sweetness wash over her. She rose onto her tiptoes, preparing to approach him quietly, when she suddenly felt the dense air press the spider silk nightgown against her body. She realized the entire nursery was currently within the domain of the Raging Wind. In that moment, the images of her intimate partner who brought her pleasure and satisfaction, the doting father of her daughter, and the foremost Sanctuary-rank expert of the era all merged into one.

Raising a hand, she knocked gently on the doorframe. The moment Catherine stepped into the room, the resistance in the air vanished instantly, and a gentle current of air enveloped her, making her steps even lighter.

“Darling, how long have you been watching?” she asked in a soft whisper, kneeling beside her lover and wrapping her arms around him from behind, resting her elegant chin on his shoulder.

“Not long,” Victor replied casually, without turning his head.

“…Liar. You waited until I was asleep, left me all alone in bed, and snuck off to see our daughter, didn’t you?” Catherine nipped Victor’s ear lightly, her tone a little tart. Her lover’s eyes were now only for Linobia, and it made her feel a twinge of jealousy.

Victor, as if not hearing Catherine’s complaint, murmured, “She’s so small… I remember Nana is one year, nine months, and fourteen days old now, but she doesn’t look like she can walk yet…”

“Our Nana is no mortal,” Catherine said with a small, proud laugh. “Her father is the esteemed Raging Wind Sword Saint, and she was born with the Gold Bloodline. Of course her development is slower than that of an ordinary person.”

“Keep your voice down, don’t wake her.”

“It’s fine, she’ll be waking up soon…”

“Aren’t children supposed to be heavy sleepers?” Victor asked, frowning in confusion.

“Mm, Nana usually sleeps until late morning… Today is special.”

“Why is that?”

“…What do you think?” Catherine put on a stern face and said reproachfully.

Feeling the softness pressed against his back, Victor finally turned to look at Catherine. All his imposing mannerisms gone, he stammered out a weak defense, “I didn’t… I don’t know…”

Seeing His Highness Randell’s handsome face flush red, completely at a total loss, Catherine’s heart bloomed with delight. She tilted her head, pursed her lips, and chuckled, “You fool, I’m just teasing you.”

This palace was heavily guarded. A total of three Silver Knights, including Catherine herself, commanded the Household Department’s secret knights and The Faceless’s most elite Secret Art Guards, all of whom were exclusively responsible for protecting Linobia’s safety. Marquess Golan lived in a villa not far from the palace, and he and Regent Williams, who had just advanced to Gold rank, took turns on duty, ready to rush to the palace at a moment’s notice.

In addition, the court priests from Brinol Cathedral who were permanently stationed at Aerie Fortress had also been assigned to the palace of Catherine and her daughter. They were from the collateral branches of the Four Great Princely Families. Due to their close ties with the Gambis Royal Family, they had no hope of advancement within the Church and could only serve as liaisons between the Holy See and the royal family, their loyalties naturally falling with the Royal Family.

Victor even believed that wizards kept by Aerie Fortress were also lurking in the shadows.

Linobia received the most comprehensive care Aerie Fortress could provide; Victor had no need to worry about her health or safety. Behind another door in the nursery, a team of handmaidens was on standby. The moment Victor and Catherine left, they would enter to care for Linobia, ensuring she would never go hungry.

As a first-time father, Victor simply couldn’t get enough of his daughter. He didn’t even respond to Catherine’s teasing. He thought for a moment, then said uncertainly, “It’s better for babies to drink their mother’s milk… That shouldn’t have anything to do with her being of the Gold Bloodline, right?”

Catherine cupped Victor’s cheeks, studying her lover’s face for a moment before saying seriously, “Your noble Highness, you are still as adorable as ever.”

After she spoke, the former Queen Mother, now the Duchess Osvid, couldn’t stop giggling. Victor had no choice but to scoop his wife up by her waist and legs, carrying her horizontally out of the nursery, afraid of waking the little princess, Nana.

That’s right. Because Catherine had given birth to Linobia, she was automatically elevated to the status of a wife in His Highness Randell’s heart, her position second only to Sylvia’s.

In the morning, an unmarked noble’s carriage stopped beside Brinol Cathedral. After finishing their prayers inside the Church with his lovely wife and beloved daughter, His Highness Randell immediately returned by carriage to his residence within Aerie Fortress.

The family of three had a warm, romantic, and delightful lunch in the palace. Catherine was in charge of feeding the little princess, Nana, while Victor was responsible for feeding Catherine dessert and fruit. This was not a difficult task for him; the little Baron had a wealth of information in his Will Side to draw upon. If their roles were reversed, however, the mighty Raging Wind Sword Saint would have gone mad.

Just as they finished lunch, an attendant came in to announce that King Edward, Queen Anna, and Regent Williams had come to pay a visit to His Highness Randell.

Victor had planned to lull Nana to sleep for her afternoon nap, but the little one seemed extremely fond of him, clinging to him and refusing to sleep. When Catherine tried to take Nana, the baby immediately threw her arms around Victor’s neck and wailed. After several failed attempts, Catherine the mother once again began to feel jealous of Victor, who had only just met their daughter.

Having no other choice, a secretly pleased His Highness Randell could only hold his darling daughter as he welcomed the King and Queen and His Highness the Regent.

It had been two years, and both Edward and Anna had resonated with twelve Elemental Nodes, advancing to become initial-rank Bronze Knights. One was handsome and dashing, the other beautiful and elegant. Both had developed the graceful magnanimity of a true king, appearing even more mature and composed than Victor.

However, Edward was of the Auguste family’s bloodline, after all, and his Nature was inherently innocent. As such, his attitude toward Victor was somewhat awkward.

After all, in his mind, Victor held a place akin to that of an older brother, yet this former childhood playmate had now become his own mother’s intimate partner and fathered a daughter with her. This left King Edward feeling completely at a loss. He could have happily accepted it if even the Gold-Eyed Earl and Roland had gotten together. But now, His Highness Randell had returned to the Gambis Kingdom as a Sanctuary-rank expert, while his own sister had not.

Fortunately, Queen Anna was from the York family. Having been influenced by the Spirit Knights and having lived at Silver Moon Manor for over half a year, she understood the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s imposing majesty, which brooked no neglect. She used this connection, all smiles and cheerful words, to skillfully diffuse the awkward atmosphere between her husband and His Highness Randell.

Curiosity was another Auguste trait, and Edward was soon captivated by the stories of the war Victor had experienced. The tale of how Victor, Ron the Master, and the others had ventured deep into the wilderness to lure and kill the Legendary Manticore particularly filled the young king with envy, and he wrung his hands in sorrow over the perishing of Ron the Master.

Edward asked question after question, making assumptions and Deductions as if he had been part of the adventuring party himself. Both sides deliberately avoided the topic of Roland; Aerie Fortress already knew what it needed to know, anyway.

“Your Majesty, what do you believe was the fundamental cause of this beastman war?” Victor asked softly, holding his darling daughter, who was finally starting to yawn.

“Listening to the experiences Your Highness has recounted, I believe the Radiant Knights seem to have orchestrated this beastman war. From any perspective, it was not a wise decision for the Sidon Centaur tribes to attack the Sasan Empire’s defensive lines… Even if the beastmen are foolish, their conflict with the human kingdoms has lasted for millennia. They have their own experiences with survival and their own methods for achieving victory.”

Victor nodded in appreciation, then shook his head. “The fundamental cause of this war actually lies with the Goblins… The Centaurs depend on their Goblin thralls for sustenance. The more Goblin thralls they have, the stronger their tribe becomes. However, Centaurs are swift and skilled in battle, natural mobile cavalry. They should be nomadic, chasing prey and trampling their enemies. Yet, the Goblins’ obedience and provision changed the very Nature of the Centaurs. As the number of Goblin thralls grew, the Centaur tribes needed larger territories, more resources, or a way to reduce the Goblin population. Since they had to reduce their number of Goblin thralls, rather than slaughtering them themselves, it was better to lead them in an attack against another opponent.”

“The total number of Goblin thralls in the Westdon Khanate had already reached a critical point, a tipping point for war. It just so happened that the Sasan Empire’s armies were engaged in their eastern expansion, and so the six Centaur tribes finally found a common need to fight together.”

By this time, Nana had fallen asleep. Victor kissed his daughter’s chubby little cheek, handed her to Catherine to take back to the nursery, and continued, “The human kingdoms face the same problem. Overpopulation has put an unbearable strain on the kingdoms’ farmlands. The King issues decrees for lords to disperse the excess refugees and freemen within their territories, but how can that be easy? Freemen and refugees come from the families of the liege’s subjects. They are interconnected in all sorts of ways—they may be husbands and wives, relatives, or masters and servants. An edict to disperse the excess population will be met with immense resistance from the lower classes, and the resentment of the populace is like an invisible poison that reflects back onto the King and the lords.”

“The love and support of the populace, on the other hand, is a reward for the King and the lords… A boon from the Force of Destiny that gives you more opportunities to reach the pinnacle, and even touch the Legendary realm.”

Victor’s gaze was deep and distant as he said in a heavy tone, “When it comes to the topic of the Force of Destiny, no matter how much I explain, you won’t be able to understand it at your current realm… It requires personal experience. In short, you must remember that for Knight-Nobles, wielding worldly authority is of paramount importance to yourselves. When the kingdom is strong and prosperous, the royal bloodline becomes nobler. When the kingdom declines, the bloodline is degraded.”

“I look forward to the day when Your Majesties can discuss the boons of the Force of Destiny with me.”

Edward was still lost in thought when Anna pulled him to his feet. They bowed solemnly to Victor. “Thank you, Tutor, for your teachings.”

Victor nodded. “You may leave first. The Regent and I still have matters to discuss.”

After Edward and Anna had left the drawing-room, Victor’s dark gold eyes turned to the silent Williams. He nodded and said, “The Force of Destiny is wondrous and unpredictable. I now have a new perspective on the vassalage system proposed by Noblewoman Arya… The Knight families have gone through the Golden Age, the Silver Age, and the Bronze Age. If the Gold Bloodline were immutable, how could the ancient Gold families, through intermarriage, possibly have been degraded to Silver, and now to Bronze?”

“Arya’s proposal of the vassalage system stabilized the human kingdoms’ situation of suffering repeated defeats, and it also stabilized the bloodline ranks of the Knight families.”

Williams smiled. “The Raging Wind Sword Saint’s insights are worthy of serious consideration.”

Victor tapped on the armrest, pondering for a moment before shaking his head with a sigh. “Roland had a profound understanding of this long before I did… Royal authority is both an opportunity for advancement granted by the Force of Destiny and a heavy shackle of fate. Roland used her status as the princess of Gambis to advance to the Legendary rank, and then she threw both the opportunity and the shackle to you… But how great was the risk in doing so? If she perished because of her gamble, I would not be surprised.”

“Regardless, I respect Roland’s choice. I will no longer investigate the mystery of her life or death.”

Victor rose from the master’s seat and bowed to Williams.

“Your Highness, I am very sorry. I lost the Auguste family’s princess.”

Chapter 710: Unraveling the Truth

The more powerful the Law an extraordinary being wielded, the more profound their understanding of the Force of Destiny.

Having roamed the Elemental Sea and advanced to a Gold Knight half a year ago, Williams had a new understanding of this saying: It was only when an extraordinary being gained a profound understanding of the Law of Destiny that the power they wielded grew greater.

How could a swordsman who was not even familiar with his own sword master a miraculous, divine-level sword art?

Victor’s ability to create the Mind Bloodline secret art and set foot in the Saint’s realm was proof enough that he possessed a unique and profound insight into the Law of Destiny.

It would be difficult for Roland’s plans to deceive the Raging Wind Sword Saint.

Williams sighed in admiration. Even he, her uncle, had only recently begun to vaguely sense the special significance behind Roland faking her death, and even then, his vision was unclear.

“Victor, thank you for your gift. Hide armor made from the skin of a Legendary Centaur is far better than Mithril armor.” The Regent stood up and bowed to the Raging Wind Sword Saint in thanks, intending to change the subject.

Victor smiled faintly and returned to the main seat, saying leisurely, “The hide of a Legendary Centaur has a high affinity for the earth element, making it a top-tier rare material. However, it seems there is a curse on armor made from it. The two Highnesses of the Frederick family both wore hide armor made from Orogar’s skin, yet they both perished at the hands of the Centaur Great Khan.”

The smile froze on Williams’s face, but he quickly shook his head. “Victor, you’ve miscalculated if you think you can frighten a Gold Knight… I don’t believe for a second that the hide armor is cursed. It’s true that it might attract the hatred of the Centaurs, but even if I wore Mithril armor to fight them, would they show me any mercy?”

“An Earth Knight is supposed to attract the attention of powerful enemies and bear the greatest pressure. This suit of Centaur hide armor is perfect for me. Don’t think you can trick me into giving it back to you,” the Regent said with a hearty laugh.

Victor nodded with a slight smile. “The so-called curse was a joke, of course. Gold Knights can perceive elemental changes; you would know best if there were any unusual spiritual fluctuations in the Centaur hide armor.” He pondered for a moment before looking up. “What you need to be wary of is a loophole on the mental level.”

The Raging Wind Sword Saint’s eyes shone brightly, and points of golden light shimmered in the air, a miraculous scene that highlighted his extraordinary nature. Williams’s spirit focused, his expression turning grim. He said solemnly, “I am here to listen to Your Highness’s teachings.”

Victor’s voice was like a low whisper of the wind. “In my research into the Mind Bloodline secret art, I discovered that one’s willpower and mind can be passed down to descendants through the bloodline. Although descendants may grow up in different environments and have different life experiences, their personalities can be strikingly similar to their ancestors’. This phenomenon is particularly evident in families with noble bloodlines. Some descendants with pure bloodlines have appearances, mannerisms, gazes, and preferences that make it seem as if their ancestors have been reborn.”

Williams’s expression was grave, his eyes glinting. Ryan, Roland, and he himself all resembled their Auguste ancestor. The scholars at Aerie Fortress had conducted related research, attributing it to the potions Master Tofwen used to purify their bloodline, but hearing it from the Raging Wind Sword Saint gave it an entirely different meaning.

Victor glanced at Williams and nodded. “It seems you have some understanding of this. In that case, I will explain the mysteries and implications from the perspective of the Mind Bloodline secret art.”

“All things in the world come from a single source, which I call the Creator. The Creator has an infinite consciousness, and each of its consciousnesses corresponds to every living individual in the world, including us humans. Only the collective consciousness of all life can represent the great will of the Creator… You can think of each of us as a miniature incarnation of the Creator, which is why every person’s consciousness is also diverse, constantly arising and perishing. These consciousnesses are threaded together by willpower and constrained by personality, forming the human mind.”

“High-ranked Knights are able to communicate with the Elemental Sea. Compared to other life forms, they can be categorized as divine humans. Legendary Knights and Gold Knights are the most outstanding among High-ranked Knights. Their willpower is so powerful that they even possess the power of creation.”

Hearing this, Williams couldn’t help but smile. “Are we truly that powerful?”

“Don’t get too pleased with yourself. Even Gold Knights must abide by the laws of the world established by the Creator,” Victor said, annoyed.

He did not mention the ancient Alchemists’ practice of void creation, but instead emphasized a more common phenomenon. “The mind and the bloodline are inextricably linked. The will of a High-ranked Knight influences their descendants through the bloodline. This is why the children of a Gold Knight are more likely to advance than later generations. After five generations, the Gold Knight’s bloodline weakens, and it becomes much harder for their descendants to advance to a Silver Knight.”

Williams rubbed his chin and nodded. “The bloodline of a Legendary Knight has a more far-reaching influence than that of a Gold Knight… No wonder the descendants of Empress Regnant Verodica have remained at the top for over three thousand years. The will of the Spirit Knight still influences the bloodline of the Baselius family to this day.”

Victor interjected, “Master Tofwen used wizardry and potions to purify your bloodline, which also reawakened the will of your ancestor, overwhelming the will from other bloodlines. But don’t forget, your family’s ancestor was a Legendary Ranger, and you are now the true kings of Gambis.”

Williams was finally moved, a look of sadness flickering in his eyes. For a Gold Knight to lose his composure was a rare sight, yet for an Auguste, it seemed strangely normal.

Victor said, “You’ve guessed it… The late King Ryan probably discovered the problem long ago, which is why he planned to make Edward his crown prince, not you or Roland. The will of your ancestor heavily influences your bloodlines. Your knight’s conviction to protect your family and kingdom could become a burden, ultimately causing you to fail in your advancement.”

“What Ryan didn’t expect was that Roland would secretly advance to the Gold rank to help him resist the pressure from Sylvia; what he expected even less was that the will of the Auguste ancestor would be so powerful as to shake even his own knight’s conviction.”

“In Ryan’s duel with the Neo Wester knight, Emperor Lant withstood Ryan’s three attacks, yet Ryan still swung a fourth time, intending to kill his opponent in a moment of laxity… That is not something a king should do. Only an adventurous Ranger would do such a thing.”

“Perhaps the Great Divination played a part in this, but the loophole in Ryan’s mind was the fundamental reason for his conflict of conviction and his assimilation by the Elemental Sea.”

Williams was silent for a long time in thought before sighing and asking, “Was it Lady Sylvia who told Your Highness that Ryan’s fourth sword strike against Neo Wester was due to the influence of our ancestor’s will?”

“She and I discussed the course of that battle, as well as the confrontation between the two combatants on the mental and elemental planes.”

Victor leaned against the armrest of the high-backed chair, his right fist propped against his cheek. His eyes were calm as he looked at the Regent and said, “Roland also told me that she once dreamed of Ryan…”

Williams looked stunned, murmuring to himself, “How could such a thing happen?”

Victor sat up straight and nodded. “My guess is that at the moment of his assimilation by the Elemental Sea, Ryan’s will transmitted an important message to Roland through the origin of the world. As for the content of that message, it was likely abstract, and aside from Roland herself, we cannot know what it was. But it was nothing more than a father’s warning to his daughter… Roland’s mental loophole was even more severe than yours. At the time, you were just a Silver Knight.”

“Your Highness Auguste, I’m very curious. For a long time after the late King perished, the Auguste family struggled mightily. Why did you delay your attempt on the Elemental Sea for so long?”

Before the other could answer, Victor continued, “It was because the Auguste family still had Roland. Therefore, you were never able to make up your mind and establish the conviction to protect your family. Unless you ascended the throne and were crowned king, in which case your chances of a successful advancement would have greatly increased.”

Williams was speechless for a moment before shaking his head with a bitter smile. “His Highness Randall, you’re right. I’m influenced by my bloodline’s will and have grown accustomed to a life of comfort and leisure. Without the pressure that comes with being king, it would have been difficult for me to advance to a Gold Knight like Ryan.”

“…Alright, I admit it. I still rely on Roland.”

Meeting Victor’s scornful gaze, Williams shrugged his shoulders and said righteously, “It’s perfectly normal for a Silver Knight to rely on a Gold Knight.”

This conversation brought many vague matters into sharp focus. The royal family was favored by the Force of Destiny, allowing them to maintain the nobility of their bloodline for generations and advance to the Gold rank more easily. This favor came from the expectations and support of their subjects, which was essentially a concentration of their subjects’ power of the mind, much like the faith in the Church. This, in turn, became a shackle for the king.

For a High-ranked Knight whose conviction was purely one of protection, this “shackle” was a “crown,” beneficial and harmless. But the three pure-blooded Auguste were influenced by their ancestor’s will. Although wearing the “crown” allowed them to easily set foot in the peak realm, over time, a loophole would appear in their minds.

Under certain circumstances, such a mental loophole could be fatal.

Ryan Auguste was the first to notice this hidden danger, but as king, he was powerless to change his own path. His only option was to let the less pure-blooded Edward bear the weight of the “crown” instead of Williams and Roland.

At the moment of his demise, Ryan passed on his experience and insights to his eldest daughter, Roland, who was also a Gold Knight.

Thus, Roland orchestrated the “death” of the Princess of Gambis, shifting the favor and shackles of destiny onto Williams’s shoulders, while she herself quietly slipped away to mend her own mental loophole and pursue a higher realm.

Of course, she paid a price. For a long time, she would be unable to use her Aura, effectively starting over. Although Roland had the experience of a Legendary Knight, she had to face the dangers a Ranger would face, emulating her Auguste ancestor and overcoming numerous obstacles.

If Roland succeeded, she would become a Legendary Knight with an extremely high degree of freedom. This meant she could command more power from the Elemental Sea, becoming one of the most top-tier Legendary Knights, and might even have the chance to advance further.

Williams had been a mere bystander to Roland’s escape, and only now did he understand the deeper meaning behind the event. Yet the Gold-Eyed Earl from the Centaur Hills seemed to have been a participant. The wisdom and insight of His Highness Randall truly filled Williams with awe.

“Your Highness, what should I do?” Williams asked with sincere humility.

Victor was basically certain that Roland had been planning to shed her identity as a princess for a long time. He couldn’t read any clues from the Gold Knight’s expression, but he did notice something. Although Williams’s charge into the Elemental Sea and advancement to Gold Knight was certainly driven by the pressure of Roland’s disappearance, Victor could see from this conversation that the Regent’s Creed of protection was clearly not as pure and steadfast as Marquess Golan’s. This showed that he held high hopes for Roland’s return and was still influenced by his ancestor’s will. That was why he was asking the Raging Wind Sword Saint for a way to mend his mental loophole.

Victor couldn’t be sure that Sylvia hadn’t tried to assassinate Roland. Sylvia hated unexpected events, and a Legendary Knight operating outside the rules of politics was the greatest uncertainty of all.

“I’ve always wondered why Roland, of all people, supported the young Edward to inherit the throne when Grand Duke Williams, with the backing of The Four Great Princes, was the most logical choice.” Victor shook his head and said with admiration, “Now I understand. She had arranged everything long ago… Regent Williams’s mental loophole can be mended, but King Williams would have no chance to do so.”

Williams smiled freely. “I will do my best to raise Edward. Once he becomes a true Emperor, I can finally relax a little.”

“A powerful guardian will always create a sense of pressure and dependency in a king, just like His Majesty Friedrich of Dodor, who has yet to challenge the peak realm. With you in Aerie Fortress to counterbalance Marquess Golan, Edward will be able to develop his own talents and establish his kingly conviction early,” Victor said with a nod and a smile. He then added, “Until Edward shoulders the responsibilities of an Emperor, Your Highness must constantly restrain yourself, adhere to your Creed of protection, and be a worthy Guardian.”

Williams chuckled. “Actually, the interests of an Auguste are quite broad, and politics is one of them. I’m quite interested in watching Gambis transform from a kingdom into an Empire.”

Victor said with a wide smile, “Then let’s conduct a small test, shall we? To see if Your Highness’s Creed of protection can suppress the Nature in your bloodline.”

The Regent’s heart immediately tightened. He had a feeling this wouldn’t be good, but after His Highness Randall’s lengthy setup, he was curious to see what kind of scheme he would be presented with.

“Alright, I’ll be waiting with bated breath,” Williams said with great enthusiasm.

Victor nodded. “I met with His Majesty Nachtigal in the Theocracy of Ayr. We had an unpleasant exchange, but he confessed to me that he was indeed watching the duel between the late King Ryan and Neo Wester from a distance, which prevented Sylvia from intervening in time. However, Nachtigal’s actions had the unanimous approval of the Holy See. The Radiant Church had to demonstrate its strength to the Spirit Knight.”

“Nachtigal offered this explanation mainly to persuade the Randt Imperial territory to join the Southern Expansion War led by Gambis. He proposed that if Aerie Fortress could let go of its hatred over the late King’s death, Nachtigal would be willing to persuade Neo Wester to formally dissolve the Randt Empire and carry out their expansion south of the river as an independent lord.”

“I did not give a clear answer on this matter. However, Nachtigal was right about one thing: the Gambis Kingdom needs to build a large port at the mouth of Lake Fies.”

Victor paused, then elaborated, “Both of Gambis’s ports are located upstream on Lake Fies. I estimate that within five years, Gambis’s fishing fleets will be launched and will enter the vast waters of Lake Fies to conduct their operations. The aquatic products of Lake Fies are a resource we must obtain. The problem is, how can a fleet fully loaded with fish travel upstream to unload at the upstream ports? Even if scholars and craftsmen solve the technical problem of moving large fishing vessels against the current, the fish in the hold will rot and spoil due to the longer voyage time.”

The fish from Lake Fies rotting in the ship’s hold was just one small problem caused by the poor choice of port locations. The transport of supplies after the southern expansion would also be affected by hydrological conditions and sailing distances. In addition, Port Rose in the Randell Fief and Horn Harbor in the Chapman territory were river ports, relatively small in scale with limited berths. If the Gambis Kingdom wanted to expand its fleet, it had to build a large lake port on the North Shore of Lake Fies’s mouth.

A few years ago, the old Marquess Sorim had proposed to the Senate that they choose a new location to build a port. Due to the blood feud between the Auguste royal family and Neo Wester, his proposal was rejected by the Senate. The York family, instigated by Victor, was the only senatorial family to cast a vote in favor at the time.

Now that His Highness Randall was bringing up the old subject, Williams felt an internal conflict.

For Gambis to build a port on the North Shore of the mouth of Lake Fies, it would inevitably have to escalate the scale of the Fishman War. Once the Gambis army had drawn the attention of the Fishmen on the lake’s shore, the Neo Wester family could seize the opportunity to build their own port on Lake Fies, forming a de facto military alliance.

From the perspective of a Guardian, Williams ought to set aside his family’s feud and cooperate with the Randt Imperial territory. This was also the outcome that Patriarch Tamor was trying his utmost to bring about.

If Williams still insisted on refusing to cooperate, it would indicate that the problem with his mental loophole was quite severe.

“Please make your choice… Or perhaps you need some more time to think it over?” Victor said, looking at Williams with a faint, knowing smile.

“No, I agree to build a port on the North Shore of the lake’s mouth and expand the Fishman War to the shores of Lake Fies, but the relevant details are open to discussion,” the Regent said decisively. A sly smile flashed in his eyes as he added, “Expanding the scale of the Fishman War will require additional military expenses… Your Highness, the rock bricks from the Centaur Hills have sold for a very high price, and the royal families of all the kingdoms have already agreed to the rock-brick-for-gold-coin exchange. Don’t you think the York family ought to contribute some military funds? I’m not asking for much, twenty million Gold Sols will do.”

Aerie Fortress was trying to get a cut of the profits. Victor had already anticipated this. He said with a smile, “Go ask Sylvia for the money.”

“Er… I feel that the Raging Wind Sword Saint is perfectly capable of making decisions for his wife,” Williams said with a serious expression, nodding emphatically.

All three Auguste trained by Tofwen are scoundrels, Victor complained internally. He couldn’t be bothered to beat around the bush any longer and said directly, “In this Sol Agreement, the royal families, including Gambis, have been granted an additional fifteen million in gold coin minting rights. Heh, I’m certain they don’t have enough gold to mint fifteen million Gold Sols. These coins can only be minted in batches over thirty-six years, and the Auguste family is no exception.”

“The Centaur Hills has gold coins and can purchase a vast quantity of supplies. I can provide one million Gold Sols for the military fund for the Fishman War. Furthermore, according to the new tax draft proposed by Ternis Ludwig, the four percent tax levied on goods imported from the Centaur Hills and paid to the Gambis royal family—this agreement will remain in effect, consider it the York family’s support for the kingdom’s new tax reforms. However, I have one condition.”

Williams was visibly delighted and pressed on, “Your Highness, what kind of condition?”

Victor’s gaze deepened. “I predict that within twenty years, a flood of privately minted currency will plague the kingdoms. Aerie Fortress must join forces with the Church and all the royal families to relentlessly crack down on the act of private minting, until the ancient Sol Agreement completely collapses and a new one is forged. The free minting rights can only be held in the hands of the royal family and the Queen’s family.”

A joint monopoly on free minting rights by the royal family and the Queen’s family was, in itself, an agreement between Sylvia and Aerie Fortress. For this, the Centaur Hills had provided the rock brick manufacturing technology to the Gambis royal family free of charge. It was entirely in the Auguste family’s interest for Aerie Fortress to lead the crackdown on privately minted currency.

Williams said without the slightest hesitation, “Done!”

Chapter 711: The Moment of Parting

The two ports under construction in the Gambis Kingdom, Port Rose and Horn Harbor, were nominally open to all the kingdom’s lords, but in reality, Port Rose was the private port of the Centaur Hills. It had a total of only thirty-one berths, enough for thirty-one large ships. The Randall family monopolized eight of them, which was a considerable number. Each of the York family’s Silver Knights could only be allocated one or two ships, leaving no extra berths at Port Rose for other families.

Horn Harbor’s situation was not much better. Of its fifty-four berths, Aerie Fortress occupied thirty-six. The remaining eighteen were divided among the four great families of Joshua, Wellington, Chapman, and Nim. Even the most powerful family, that of Duke Wellington, had only five ships. Not to mention Marquess Chapman, on whose family lands Horn Harbor was originally built, yet the Gambis Royal Family had allocated them a mere three berths.

The moment news spread that Aerie Fortress intended to build a large lake port, it received an enthusiastic response from the powerful lords of Gambis. The harbor wasn’t even a shadow on the horizon, yet the elder families were already clamoring for a greater share of warship berths.

Building a port on the North Shore of Lake Fies involved a host of issues, requiring adjustments to the Gambis Kingdom’s military, diplomatic, and domestic policies.

This was a shift brought about by the fall of Princess Auguste. The internal and external powers of the kingdom all wanted to achieve their own goals amidst the political changes_ _in Gambis. Victor’s Golden Company was no exception. Two important parts of his groundwork—the New Tax and the right to lease a port in Randt Imperial territory—were already on the agenda, but His Highness Randell did not need to personally handle the specific, trivial matters.

The family scholars sent by Sylvia were on their way from the Centaur Hills to Duke York’s mansion in Blinor City to participate in discussions about the lake port and the New Tax. Marchioness Wimbledon was making frequent moves, meeting multiple times with Regent Williams and Marquess Golan. She was also preparing for a trip to the Theocracy of Ayr to visit the Golden Company’s most influential ally—Pontiff Clement—to discuss the Golden Company’s investment in building a port in the Randt Imperial territory.

Sophia was full of passion for her own ventures and possessed strong execution skills. Although she disliked others telling her what to do, she could still listen to the reasonable suggestions Victor put forward. After stepping into the Saint realm, Victor’s desire to suppress Sophia had faded considerably, especially after she separated the Mountain folk strongholds from the Golden Company’s command structure. The greatest point of contention between them had also vanished.

If Sophia wanted to stir things up, he would let her. It wouldn’t be too late for Victor to step in and resolve any difficulties she encountered.

The Raging Wind Sword Saint had the confidence to correct any mistakes and deviations.

Ultimately, Victor was now the richest man in the world. Otherwise, he would not have agreed to Sophia’s request to separate the Mountain folk strongholds and the smuggling caravans.

Now, he could support a mere hundred thousand-plus Mountain folk without any financial assistance from Sophia.

The first batch of gold from the major royal families was already on its way to the Centaur Hills, starting with the Kingdom of Naville.

The people of Naville wholeheartedly approved of the agreement to exchange gold coins for rock bricks. After this year’s Sol Alliance Meeting concluded, the representatives of the various royal families signed the document together, witnessed by the Pontiff. The Kingdom of Naville took a month to gather the Gold Sol, which they then loaded and dispatched—not the agreed-upon twenty million, but a full twenty-three million gold coins.

His Majesty King Rex expressed that the extra three million Gold Sol were a congratulatory gift for the Raging Wind Sword Saint.

Since His Highness Randell liked gold coins, it was only fitting to use them as a gift to celebrate his advancement to the Saint realm.

Victor could guess with his toes that the lords of Naville had likely been privately minting Gold Sol for some years. After all, they possessed the richest gold mines and excellent craftsmen. Rather than let the craftsmen sit idle, it was better to mint some coins in advance. As long as they controlled the circulation and slightly exceeded the quota from the Sol Alliance Meeting, it was no big deal.

The purity of these privately minted coins couldn’t possibly all meet the standards of the Sol Agreement. King Rex simply gave Victor an extra three million Gold Sol, presuming that His Highness Randell and the Queen of Roses would no longer pursue the issue of the coins’ purity.

In a stable human society, Gold Sol, as a representation of wealth, could solve most problems. In the hands of someone with the power to establish order and the ability to maintain it, twenty-three million Gold Sol would become even more potent. Clearly, His Highness Randell was such a person, not to mention he also had Alchemy Tower No. 7.

This money had been legitimized through the increased issuance at this year’s Sol Alliance Meeting. The Alchemy Tower was not a picky eater; the purity of the gold was irrelevant.

When Naville’s gold convoy entered the eastern territories of Gambis, the Regent immediately dispatched a squad of Swift Dragon Knights to accompany Narsen and Earl Terlanden in escorting the convoy to Blinor City. The arrival of over a hundred carriages fully laden with gold in the lower district of the Royal Capital caused a sensation throughout the noble circles.

The Household Department of Aerie Fortress unceremoniously confiscated five of the gold carriages; this was the war offering His Highness Randell had promised the Regent. The remaining carriages rested in the Royal Capital for three days before Narsen and Terlanden, leading the York family’s elite cavalry, escorted them toward Goldwater City in the Centaur Hills.

His Highness Randell paid no mind to such trivial matters. He didn’t even spare a glance for the gold convoy as it arrived in the Royal Capital and then departed for the Centaur Hills.

Gillian had already been recalled by the Chapman family. Sophia was now swamped with work, with no time for a rivalry with Catherine for a man’s affection. Victor spent his days strolling around with the adorable and beautiful little Princess Nana, or taking Nana and Duchess Olivia to various social engagements.

Besides keeping his precious daughter company and showing her off, Victor spent the rest of his time studying potion-making.

With the aid of X-3, Victor’s learning speed was astonishing. It took him only five days to sort through all of the old Wizard’s notes from nearly a century. The next step was to ask Tofwen for his guidance.

The Chief of the Faceless knew his days were numbered. It was a rare opportunity to have a Protector of the Kingdom willing to inherit his academic legacy, so he taught Victor with great care, holding nothing back.

The two top-tier extraordinary scholars cooperated fully. Using Paul Randell as an experimental subject, they taught and discussed simultaneously, developing a Mind Bloodline secret art aimed at improving intelligence, along with a matching mind potion.

Victor named the secret art “Flame Scourge.”

The Flame Scourge secret art had two realms. In the first realm, the practitioner’s memory and calculation speed would passively increase, with a maximum improvement of twenty percent. In the second realm, when a practitioner had mastered the first, his bloodline would form a Root Talent capable of withstanding the “Flame Scourge” secret potion. After consuming the potion, his Spirit attribute would surge by sixty percent, allowing him to multitask and temporarily ignite the fire of the mind. The duration of this state depended on the dosage of the secret potion and the quality of the practitioner’s Root Talent.

The Flame Scourge secret art enhanced both intelligence and combat strength, falling into the category of a soul talent.

Of course, the experimental Flame Scourge secret art still had many flaws that needed to be improved and gradually perfected.

Paul was still a long way from the second realm of the Flame Scourge art, but Tofwen had already seen his future through his own innate Wizardry: his physical constitution, once three times that of an ordinary person, would weaken to one-and-a-half times, equivalent to a regular Elite Soldier. His appearance, fertility, and lifespan would not change significantly, but frequent use of the Flame Scourge potion would cause him to age rapidly.

Compared to a Knight’s perfectly balanced fire of the mind, a Mystic Warrior of the Flame Scourge art was like a clown. But at least it was stable; Paul would not suffer a bloodline collapse from practicing Flame Scourge.

A Mind Bloodline secret art was considered a success as long as it achieved a stable, benign change. Moreover, Flame Scourge was the first soul talent Victor had ever created. The fact that Paul hadn’t turned into a madman or an idiot was proof enough of the art’s greatness.

With this successful experience, the path ahead became much clearer. Victor deduced that if he replaced the mind potion with Source Power, the debilitating physical side effects of the Flame Scourge art could be greatly mitigated. Even with the current version, Victor was confident he could modify it to create a version of Flame Scourge specifically for warriors.

If Alchemical militia, with physical prowess comparable to a mid-rank Bronze Knight, could temporarily ignite the fire of the mind after taking the Flame Scourge potion, Victor would be thrilled, even if their operational lifespan was drastically shortened.

Victor’s greatest gain was the significant improvement in the accuracy of his Insight talent’s ability to deduce bloodline variations. Under Tofwen’s guidance, he continuously refined his deduction methods, reaching a level of about eighty percent of the effectiveness of Tofwen’s Wizardry.

Mastering the means to monitor bloodline changes was clearly more significant than creating the Flame Scourge art. Victor could now independently carry out the refinement work for his secret art experiments. Although the accuracy of his monitoring couldn’t compare to Tofwen’s Wizardry, any minor errors could be compensated for by increasing the number of experimental subjects. This was far better than being completely in the dark.

His Highness Randell was the well-deserved first Mind’s Dominator in human history.

However, the thing that brought Victor the most joy was Nana calling him “Papa” for the first time. The little one was especially close to her father, even needing Victor nearby to sleep. Otherwise, she would unleash her own extraordinary talent—crying.

The reason Nana’s crying had the “extraordinary” prefix was because her cries could summon the Raging Wind Sword Saint. Consequently, His Highness Randell took Nana with him wherever he went, giving the handmaidens and guards in charge of her care a holiday. Tofwen often found himself in the middle of a discussion with Victor, only for Victor to suddenly call a halt to change Nana’s diaper before resuming the conversation. Catherine could occasionally lend a hand and look after Nana, but it had to be within the range of His Highness Randell’s domain.

As for why Catherine was brought along to participate in the Mind Bloodline secret art experiments, the answer was self-evident.

In short, Princess Nana always came first.

In mid-February of the Season of Wind, the steward of Duke York’s mansion in Blinor City came to Aerie Fortress seeking an audience with His Highness Randell. He presented a letter personally written by Sylvia to Victor:

Four months and twelve days. If you don’t come home, I will come to you.

Staring at the short sentence written in elegant script, Victor could almost see Sylvia’s willow-like brows furrowed in a light, feigned anger. Only then did he realize he had been lazing around in Aerie Fortress for four whole months.

“Darling, are you going back to the Centaur Hills?” Catherine wrapped her arms around Victor’s waist, resting her head on his shoulder as she spoke softly.

“It’s time to go back.”

Victor nodded, put away the letter, and wrapped an arm around Catherine’s waist. He gazed at little Princess Nana, who was taking toddling steps while encircled by a gentle breeze, and let out a sigh. “I have a gift for Linobia.”

“Bring me my bow.”

Caligula, outside the door, heard his master’s command and entered the room with the Eagle Wing Bow. He handed it to Victor, then slipped out again with downcast eyes.

Victor unstrung the metal bowstring, woven from strands of Dragonbone Steel, and placed the bow, which resembled a soaring eagle’s wings, on the smooth cypress floor. This immediately caught Nana’s attention. The little one took two steps, and the breeze around her gradually dissipated. Losing her balance, she plopped onto the floor and crawled swiftly over.

When her chubby little hands gripped the Eagle Wing Bow, the breeze reappeared, the air flowing gently like water around Nana and the bow. The little girl giggled happily and sprawled her whole body over the metal bow.

“Is this… Wind Walk?”

Catherine noticed that Victor’s dark gold eyes had turned a deep black, meaning he had not activated his domain. Nana had triggered Wind Walk on her own.

How was this possible?

Never mind that Nana was still an infant who needed milk; even if she advanced to the Legendary realm in the future, she shouldn’t be able to grasp the Wind Walk talent, which was exclusive to the elven bloodline.

A warm smile touched the corners of Victor’s lips as he explained, “This Eagle Wing Bow, I’ve used it for a long time… In Linobia’s hands, it is a marvelous item. It’s a power I’ve bestowed upon Linobia, allowing her to use the Wind Walk talent.”

During the battle on the Warton Great Plains, Victor had transformed into a void wind element to kill the Centaur God-favored. All his personal belongings had been reduced to elements, leaving only the Manticore bone bead from Sylvia, the divine arts ring from Father Miller, the purple-gold coin amulet, and the Marvelous Crystal of an ancient Alchemist.

These items bore the will imprints of powerful individuals, which was why they had remained intact after being washed by the elements.

Victor now also possessed the qualification to imbue items with his will imprint, but doing so didn’t grant them special effects. The Manticore’s bone bead was still a bone bead; Father Miller’s ring was still a ring. They could all be destroyed, at most alerting the owner of the will imprint.

Linobia was different. Before she was even born, Victor had blessed her and announced her name to the world, and the Elemental Sea of Wind had responded to His Highness Randell’s will.

Princess Nana’s bloodline held the will of the Raging Wind Sword Saint. By holding Victor’s warbow, she gained the power of Wind Walk and could use the Wind Walk Arrow and Gale Arrow. Even if she one day stepped into the extraordinary realm and her body and soul became semi-elementalized, Wind Walk could still aid her.

Victor bent down and picked up little Princess Nana, casually handing the Eagle Wing Bow to Catherine with a smile. “When she comes of age, string it with a spider silk bowstring for now. In the future, you can replace it with a Mithril one. It won’t affect the Wind Walk.”

Although she couldn’t comprehend this magical phenomenon, modesty, self-discipline, and gentleness were Catherine’s virtues. She never pried into matters she shouldn’t, simply saying with a wistful smile, “With this bow, Nana probably won’t cry for her Papa after you’re gone…”

“Darling, when you say it like that, even I feel a sense of loss.”

Victor gently embraced his beautiful, gentle wife. Seeing this, Nana gleefully wormed her way between her parents, completely unaware that her father was about to leave.

After a tender moment with his wife and daughter, Victor said, “The Centaur Hills aren’t far from Blinor—only a few hundred kilometers. I’ll come back to see you often.”

It really didn’t seem that far… Catherine’s heart fluttered with secret joy. She slipped out of Victor’s embrace, knelt on one knee, and presented the Eagle Wing Bow with a bowed head. “Your Highness, it should have its own name.”

Victor pondered for a moment. He took the Eagle Wing Bow in one hand and lifted Nana with the other, saying solemnly:

“Wind Dancer… May you accompany my beloved daughter, Linobia Olivia. May you let her be ever favored by the wind, dance with the gales, escape the pursuit of mighty foes, and earn the fine name of the Queen of the Hunt.”

With a solemn expression, Catherine declared in a clear voice, “Linobia Olivia Wind-Dancer, my daughter. May you never tarnish the great name of the Raging Wind Sword Saint.”

Chapter 712: Red Frost Tree Manor

The afternoon sun of late autumn was warm and pleasant. With his hands laced behind his head, Victor lay lazily on a hillside slope carpeted with Goldsilk Grass, gazing down at Lake Vana below.

The blue lake, distant mountains, wetlands, and variegated colors of autumn interwove to form a landscape as beautiful as a painting. Terns skimmed over the lake’s surface, snatching up a white-finned fish, which prompted their kin to chirp and squabble over it. Cattle and sheep ambled about the pasture, grazing, while sheepdogs barked wildly at plump ground-rats peeking from their holes. Attendants at Red Frost Tree Manor were busy washing warhorses. All of this infused the picturesque scene with vibrant color.

Victor had experienced the lushness of the Gloomy Forest, the haze of the Misty Mountains, the grandeur of the Warton Great Plains, the desolation of the Northern Wildlands, and the majesty of the Giantstone Mountains, but he loved the beauty of the Centaur Hills most of all.

Lake Vana was the largest shallow lake in the Centaur Hills, a place of lush vegetation and diverse, colorful scenery. Sylvia’s private holiday manor was situated between the shores of Lake Vana and the hills, named for the abundance of red frost trees planted there.

Of course, a place for Sylvia’s rest and relaxation couldn’t have large swathes of farmland. The one thousand square kilometers of land had to maintain its natural landscape as much as possible, which was perfect for the spread of Goldsilk Grass, a plant farmers considered a useless weed.

Now that the rock brick had been introduced, Victor’s plan to trade it for gold coins had been a resounding success. Goldsilk Grass, a key ingredient in making rock brick, no longer needed to be kept secret. Red Frost Tree Manor had truly become Sylvia’s holiday retreat.

Victor had returned to the Centaur Hills ten days ago and had been staying with Sylvia at Red Frost Tree Manor ever since, indulging in the wonderful time that belonged to them and them alone.

After two years of campaigning abroad, nothing was more relaxing and pleasant than returning home. The Season of Wind was the season of harvest, and it also resonated most deeply with Victor’s bloodline talent. The surging monsoons carried all sorts of information from the natural world. To the Raging Wind Sword Saint in his state of mental relaxation, it was like a fine, elegant wine with a long finish, or like a ceaselessly flowing hot spring. Victor couldn’t help but become intoxicated by it. He closed his eyes, allowing the whisper of the wind to cleanse his mind, making no effort to capture it.

Just as Victor was emptying his mind, immersed in the natural wind whisper between heaven and earth, a blade of grass tickled his ear. The faint, itchy sensation pulled him back to reality. He opened his eyes to see a face of exquisite beauty.

Sylvia, wearing a yellow, cinched-waist dress and with her flawless, snow-white feet bare, was squatting in front of him. Her pure, azure eyes were filled with curiosity and a mischievous smile. Her golden hair was casually draped over her shoulders as she gently tickled his ear with a blade of Goldsilk Grass.

Victor naturally reached a hand toward the smooth, jade-like calf beneath her dress. But Sylvia let out a small cry, pulled her foot back under her skirt, and hopped backward. She even managed to step on Victor’s hand in the process, giggling as she turned and ran up the grassy slope.

The fine, soft touch on his hand flowed straight to the bottom of his heart. Victor froze for two seconds, then shot up from the grass and gave chase to the bounding Sylvia.

At the top of the hill, Trisley sat on a rock, her arms wrapped around her knees, watching the two Highnesses chase each other playfully, lost in a daze.

Sylvia ran ahead, holding her skirt, with Victor in pursuit. Whenever his fingers were about to touch her, Sylvia would gracefully whirl around, dodging her lover’s embrace and leaving behind a trail of bell-like laughter, luring Victor to continue chasing her figure.

The two of them were like any ordinary couple in the throes of love, even their speed was unremarkable. Aside from their breathtaking beauty, one would never guess that one was a Sanctuary-rank expert and the other a Spirit Knight.

What’s so fun about this? So boring… Trisley pouted, complaining tartly in her thoughts. She didn’t know if she was jealous of Sylvia or Victor, but she had to admit, only Sylvia and Victor could make each other feel the sweetness of love.

The world seen through the eyes of an extraordinary being was different from that of an ordinary person. The more powerful the extraordinary being, the more solitary they became, and the more they missed out on the joys that only mortals possessed. The Raging Wind Sword Saint’s Perception was incredibly sharp—it was practically the power of a realm. Besides Sylvia, no one could approach him while he was asleep, let alone play a prank on him or tease him.

Of course, this was also because Victor had completely opened his heart to Sylvia; otherwise, her stealthy approach would have signified hostility. Even a Gold Knight would find it difficult to withstand this level of “intimacy” from a Spirit Knight. There would only be shock, not surprise, and a counterattack would be inevitable. It could never have turned into a game.

Victor and Sylvia were natural partners, destined to be drawn to each other.

As Trisley was sighing with emotion, Sylvia happened to circle around behind her. With a light push, the Raging Wave Knightess, who had resonated with thirty-six Elemental Nodes, seemed as delicate as a young girl in a gale. She cried out in surprise as she tumbled from the rock, only to be caught in Victor’s arms.

She was just as unguarded with Sylvia and Victor, and was easily drawn into their “boring” game.

The three of them laughed and frolicked for a while before Trisley struggled out of Victor’s embrace, her face flushed as she said coquettishly, “You’re always bullying me.”

Victor gently stroked Trisley’s waist-length hair and said with a smile, “Your hair has gotten longer.”

Female knights generally kept their hair shoulder-length for the convenience of wearing a helmet, while extraordinary knights of Silver rank and above had no need to cut their hair at all. Trisley’s long, lustrous hair was a result of taking Fertility Potions, which prevented her from circulating her Aura. Unfortunately, Victor’s advancement had been too rapid, rendering all the Fertility Potions Aerie Fortress had supplied to Trisley ineffective. But her golden hair, like a cascading waterfall, was a clear sign of her hope and the effort she had put in.

Victor felt a trace of apology toward Trisley, but he couldn’t reverse his own bloodline talent.

Trisley sensed Victor’s guilt and felt a sweetness in her heart, but she merely said lightly, “Long hair is very inconvenient. I’ll cut it short.”

If you were going to cut it, you would have done it long ago. You’re leaving it for me to see, Victor thought, amused. Trisley was still as proud and shy, quick to jealousy, and easily embarrassed as ever. He deliberately teased her, “We still have a chance…”

Trisley’s heart fluttered. She bit her lip and asked shyly, “My dear, will you be staying at Rose Manor often from now on?”

Before Victor could answer, Sylvia squeezed between them, linking her arms with both Victor and Trisley. “He won’t necessarily live at Rose Manor, but he must live with me,” she said with a smile. “And you too, of course… He is my husband, and you are my knight. In the future, our children will be your children. If you can advance to Gold rank, your daughter will be my daughter as well.”

“My dear, should we make our home at Rose Manor, or here?” Sylvia asked softly, her eyes full of longing.

A Guardian resides behind the scenes, controlling the grand tide of affairs. Victor now had a larger stage; the mere Randell Fief was no longer enough for him to display his abilities. Ruling over the entire Centaur Hills was a station befitting the Raging Wind Sword Saint. Besides, this was something he and Sylvia had agreed upon long ago: once Victor advanced to Legendary, he would stay by Sylvia’s side.

“This place is nice. The scenery is beautiful, the area is large, and it’s only a little over three hundred kilometers from Randell Fief, so it’ll be convenient for me to visit Nicole and the others at Silver Moon Manor from time to time,” Victor said with a nod.

“Alright, Red Frost Tree Manor will be our home from now on,” Sylvia said. She turned to Trisley and added, “From now on, Rose Manor will likely need you to manage it… There’s nothing too important. Just don’t let them disturb me and Victor.”

Trisley wasn’t happy about it, but she knew Sylvia was delegating authority to her to help her build her reputation and solidify her conviction, preparing her for the push into the Gold realm.

Seeing Trisley nod in agreement, Sylvia’s smile was like a blooming flower. Then she sighed softly, “It’s a pity… you weren’t able to woo Andria back. Otherwise, the chances of the Centaur Hills cultivating a branch of the Gale Knight bloodline would be much greater.”

Although top-tier extraordinary beings were always plagued by difficulties with procreation, Sylvia was so matter-of-fact about using her husband to attract high-ranking female knights that Victor could only remain silent.

But Trisley said wistfully, “And there’s still little Princess Celine from the Kingdom of Sus. It seems she’s quite fond of Raymond Peter now… What do you plan to do with her?”

Of course, Victor hadn’t forgotten about Princess Celine Eleanor, who was “visiting” the Centaur Hills. She was originally Raymond Peter’s fiancée and the crown princess of the Kingdom of Sus. Now, she was a “gift” from Grand Duke Peter and Duke Meiding in compensation to His Highness Randell.

With such a drastic change in her status, Victor wouldn’t believe for a second that Princess Celine didn’t harbor some resentment in her heart.

Of course, calling Princess Celine a “gift” was too flippant, and also inaccurate.

In reality, the Borrey United Kingdom was in urgent need of forging a stable southern expansion alliance with Gambis and gaining access to the waters of Lake Fies. For two major powers in the same southern expansion camp, no pact was more stable than a royal marriage alliance. However, due to Gambis’s system of favoring the queen’s family, the noblewomen of Borrey’s great families had no chance of entering Aerie Fortress. And so, they thought of the purple-eyed bloodline of the Kingdom of Sus. Princess Celine was a Sus princess who possessed the purple-eyed trait.

Assuming His Highness Randell could persuade the Gambis Royal Family to set aside their hatred for Neo Wester and allow the Kingdom of Borea to build a port in Randt Imperial territory, what price would His Highness Randell have to pay to get the August family to agree?

This price obviously couldn’t be laid at the feet of the York family. The purple-eyed noblewoman Celine was the price the Kingdom of Borea had paid in advance.

If Aerie Fortress accepted His Highness Randell’s proposal, the Borrey United Kingdom would facilitate a “lover marriage alliance” between the Sus Royal Family and the Gambis Royal Family. The purple-eyed noblewoman of the Eleanor family would serve as one of Gambis’s court ladies. Her children with His Majesty Edward would belong to the paternal family. If she gave birth to a female infant with the purple-eyed bloodline, their partner relationship would be dissolved, and she would return to the Sus Royal Family with her daughter.

In this way, the three southern kingdoms of Borrey, Sus, and Gambis would be linked by marriage. This was because the Kingdom of Sus had always acted as a binder between various powers, and they had consistently constrained Borrey’s trade and diplomacy policies.

If the Boreans successfully expanded south and joined with Gambis on the Southern Continent, they could break free from the constraints of the Kingdom of Sus. This was a scenario the great lords of Sus were unwilling to see, so they were more than happy to wedge themselves into the alliance between the other two, or at the very least, secure a significant say in matters.

In fact, Celine being stripped of her crown princess title and visiting the Centaur Hills could be seen as an ambiguous signal from the two kingdoms of Borrey and Sus to the Gambis Royal Family:

If you don’t agree to the alliance, we plan to form a long-term marriage alliance with Gambis’s queen’s family, with an Eleanor purple-eyed noblewoman helping the York family maintain their noble bloodline… ahem, you know what to do.

In the game of chess played at the kingdom level, Princess Celine Eleanor had been reduced to a complete and utter sacrifice. The so-called “compensation” was just a pretext, but now that Princess Celine had been delivered to her door, Sylvia would absolutely not let her go.

The Raging Wind Sword Saint’s level of life was too high. Even if Princess Celine advanced to become a Silver Knight and served by Victor’s side for a long time, it would be impossible for them to have offspring. Under these circumstances, a partnership between Celine and Victor would be a complete waste of the purple-eyed noblewoman’s bloodline advantage.

Sylvia incited the little pot of jealousy beside her to test His Highness Randell’s attitude toward Celine.

Victor knew that if he insisted on keeping Celine, he would have one big pot of jealousy and another little pot of jealousy at his side. He’d probably never have a moment’s peace in his love life again.

“A few years ago, at the Grand Military Tournament in the Centaur Hills, I remember Princess Celine falling for me at first sight… It’s only been a few years, and now she’s in love with Raymond Peter?” Victor shook his head with a wry smile and said very wisely, “I will not summon her. You two can make the arrangements.”

Trisley gazed at the distant scenery, the corners of her mouth curling up irrepressibly. Sylvia, on the other hand, shot Victor a sideways glance, her beautifully-lined chin lifting slightly as if to say: Good, you know what’s good for you.

She pondered for a moment before speaking. “Actually, Celine’s current situation is no accident… As a purple-eyed noblewoman, her stance is closer to Queen Cynthia Eleanor’s than to her father, Duke Meiding’s. Of the six great families of Sus, the Eleanor royal family is the weakest. The core members of the family are all purple-eyed noblewomen. Due to the peculiarities of the purple-eyed bloodline, the Eleanors have never produced a Gold Knight. They were only pushed onto the throne of Sus because the other five great families keep each other in check.”

“The Eleanors are suppressed by the five great families, and their male offspring of noble blood belong to their respective paternal families. For over two hundred years, the Eleanors have been striving to change this state of affairs. Cynthia wanted to cultivate the Gale Knight bloodline to counterbalance the five great families… and a Gale Knight undoubtedly has that kind of power.”

Sylvia smiled slightly, then shook her head and sighed, “Unfortunately, the five great dukes of Sus would never let the Queen get her way… Celine is close to her mother, so her status as crown princess was doomed to be revoked… My dear, do you know who Raymond Peter’s marriage partner is now?”

“The granddaughter of Duke Redhawk, Celine’s cousin, Princess Wendinis Eleanor.”

Victor asked in surprise, “Duke Redhawk? Isn’t he Duke Meiding’s political rival?”

“He is.” Sylvia nodded. “The Redhawk family controls the Southern Realm of Sus, and their relationship with the Meiding family, the great lords of the north, is poor. But on the matter of the royal family, they have stood together. Duke Meiding would rather relinquish some of his influence over the royal family than allow a daughter who favors the Eleanors to inherit the throne. Queen Cynthia has been thoroughly defeated; she has no power whatsoever to control her family’s succession.”

Victor looked thoughtful and nodded. “So, from the very beginning, Duke Meiding intended to drive Celine out of the Kingdom of Sus?”

“Who knows? And who cares?” Sylvia raised a willow-like brow, kissed Victor’s cheek, and said softly, “My love, I’m prepared to give Celine a chance.”

A glint in his eyes, Victor frowned and asked, “Like Sophia? But the Mind Bloodline secret art might not be very effective on a purple-eyed noblewoman… Besides, I haven’t even told Sophia about the Mind Bloodline secret art. Are you sure you want to reveal a family secret to Celine Eleanor?”

“Celine is much easier to deal with than Sophia.” Sylvia shook her head with a laugh, then her expression turned serious. “As for the matter of her knight’s conviction, I’ll take care of it. In short, I won’t let her pass the Mind Bloodline secret art to the Eleanor family. You will be responsible for modifying the Knight path secret art, using Celine as the test subject. If Celine can break through the shackles of the purple-eyed bloodline and advance to Gold rank, she’ll have the right to be the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s partner and add a Gale Knight bloodline to the Centaur Hills. If she has no chance at all, then she is not the ‘gift’ that belongs to you. I will find a place for her.”

Draven the Sword Saint had six Gold-rank female knight partners, leaving four Gale Knight bloodlines for the Iron Mountain Empire. Sylvia also wanted to cultivate a Gale Knight bloodline for the York family.

However, the era Draven lived in was different from the present. At that time, the old empire had collapsed and a new one was rising. In the war against the Ogre King, many male high-ranked knights from numerous families had perished, which led to the emergence of many high-ranking female knights to serve as pillars for their families. After the war, the families began to merge. Four Gold-rank female knights gathered around Sword Saint Draven, and together with Empress Regnant Verodica, they founded the Iron Mountain Empire.

The Gold-rank female knights of today basically all have their own families. The partners Victor could choose from were very limited. Sylvia had her sights set on Nicole and Trisley. However, it wouldn’t be easy for them to advance to Gold rank. One more Celine meant one more sliver of hope.

Sun Elves were like Dragons. Victor could control the ancestor’s will within his bloodline, but he was not averse to the Sun Elf concept of spouses.

Procreation is the most fundamental bloodline instinct of life. The more powerful a creature, the more they crave the favor of a spouse of the same level; otherwise, their bloodline’s will could easily be severed.

This was tantamount to extinction, something worse than perishing. And to violate the most basic rules of life was to invite the loathing of the Creator’s pantheistic consciousness. The origin of the world would turn the spear of fate and directly eliminate the powerful transgressor.

Biological Aberrations were the best example. When a law of life reached a dead end, the world’s will would shatter and reassemble it, deducing an entirely new law of life.

However, cultivating Princess Celine with the Mind Bloodline secret art and Victor choosing a partner were two different matters. Victor was cautious about Celine because of her connections to Raymond Peter, which in turn implicated the Shadow Council.

After a moment’s hesitation, Victor shook his head gravely. “The problems in the Kingdom of Sus aren’t that simple… You must have heard about my encounter with the Bear-monster Elder in the Giantwood Forest. I haven’t mentioned my conversation with it to anyone.”

Sylvia’s eyes lit up. She moved to Victor’s left, and with Trisley, they sandwiched him between them, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the grass.

“Go on, I’m listening,” Sylvia said, propping her chin in her hand and gazing at Victor with warmth and affection. She never forced her lover to reveal his secrets, but she always hoped he would bring them up to her on his own.

Chapter 713: Unwilling to Pursue

After returning to the Centaur Hills, Victor and Sylvia talked about many things. But just as she didn’t mention Roland, Victor did not speak of the scene in the Giantwood Forest.

What had happened in the Giantwood Forest involved many of Victor’s secrets. No matter how he chose what to reveal, someone as clever as Sylvia would be able to grasp the bigger picture. In truth, after ascending to the Saint realm, Victor no longer minded revealing some of his secrets to Sylvia. But he had hidden them for so long that he was unsure how to face his lover’s questions, which was why he was acting so awkwardly.

However, during Victor’s campaigns abroad, the secret knights and Mystic Warriors of Rose Manor had been at his side. Even if they had not witnessed the entire battle in the Giantwood Forest, they would have noticed His Highness Randell’s unusual behavior. Sylvia had surely learned some details from them, but she had never pressed Victor for more.

After much consideration, Victor decided to talk to Sylvia about the events in the Giantwood Forest without avoidance.

Once he had recounted all the details about the Bear-monster Elder and the Shadow Knight, Victor sat on the grass and said in a low voice, “Two important pieces of information revealed by the Bear-monster Elder’s ancient memories can be corroborated. First, the Ancient Behemoths waged the Eternal War, devouring their opponents’ Divine Law. A portion of the victors escaped the Creator’s path of pan-consciousness, retained their self-will, and became Ancient Gods… The Church calls them evil gods or Devils.”

“Evil gods and Devils truly exist. Both the Blood Sacrifice War between the Chosen and the purification of the Wizard, Will, in the Black Fortress Town church can prove this… I personally saw Will’s willpower get replaced by an evil god in the final moments of his life. Also, Sky Spirit Donar, worshiped by the Northern Barbarians, should also be an Ancient God. His existence spans almost the entire history of the Barbarians.”

“Second, humans are an extant primordial being, evolved from the first primordial beings created by Taelonriel. Their essence is the same as the Ancient Behemoths, but they are exceptionally weak. You see, Knights are born with power over the elements, and Wizards are born with power over Laws, which is very similar to the extraordinary power of the Ancient Behemoths. In a sense, the ancestor of humanity is the Creation Giant Ape Taelonriel. The primordial beings that He did not deliberately pay attention to evolved into the humans of today. And the primordial beings He did pay attention to, bearing His creative will, evolved into the Ancient Behemoths.”

Sylvia leaned on Victor’s shoulder and sighed softly, “So, that means a Spirit Knight is…”

“…you could be called a daughter of Taelonriel,” Victor said, finishing her sentence with a smile.

“I am Sylvia, Guardian of the York family, and wife of His Highness Randell… The Spirit Knight is the child of the world,” Sylvia said, rolling her eyes at Victor coquettishly.

Victor paused for a moment, then corrected himself, “Yes, you are my Sylvia… According to the Bear-monster Elder, a primordial being can become various forms of life by accepting the will of an Ancient Behemoth. But the Ancient Behemoths have either gone down the path of pan-consciousness or achieved Ancient Godhood, detaching themselves from the physical world. It’s no longer possible for humans to become Bear-monsters, elves, or barbarians… However, some people who come into contact with the residual will of the Ancient Behemoths will still undergo changes…”

An idea struck Trisley, and she asked, “The barbarians?”

“That’s right,” Victor nodded. “The barbarians, dwarves, halflings, and the Assyrians recorded by the Trigoval family—these non-human races are all humans who came into contact with fragments of the will of Ancient Behemoths. They are very similar to humans, but they no longer belong to the primordial beings.”

“What exactly are these fragments of the will of Ancient Behemoths?” Sylvia asked softly, her eyes shining. She remembered the ancient Marvelous Crystal Victor possessed, which contained a single, glistening drop of crimson liquid.

Victor explained, “I don’t know everything, but I can answer that question… The Bear-monster Elder mentioned two ancient giant wolves, the King of Nightmares and the Lord of Gluttony. The Lord of Gluttony is the ancestor of the Gnolls, while the King of Nightmares has no intelligent descendants; he is the ancestor of all wolf-like animals… The Bloodboil Potion invented by the Boreans can simulate the Bloodlust talent of wolves. Tofwen the Wizard, however, believed that the Bloodboil Potion has drawbacks. The Bloodline Law of those who take it long-term will undergo irreversible changes, which are then passed on to their descendants. If their descendants continue to take the potion, the changes to their bloodline will intensify, making them highly adapted to the potion. In other words, the potion’s effect on them will be more pronounced, almost comparable to a Gnoll’s Bloodlust talent.”

“The main ingredient of the Bloodboil Potion is the spinal marrow of Gnolls and wolf-like animals… So those are the fragments of will from the King of Nightmares and the Lord of Gluttony?” Trisley said in surprise, then frowned her pretty, willow-like brows in confusion. “For a bloodline to become more receptive to the effects of the potion, that seems like a good thing, doesn’t it?”

“Good things are often accompanied by conspiracies… My dear, please continue,” Sylvia said calmly.

“I also worry that this is a sinister plot.” Victor nodded and, after a moment of contemplation, said, “I carefully read through Tofwen’s notes. They record all of his knowledge, including the Devil’s whispers he heard… Most of these whispers were related to knowledge, while others were fragmented, disordered words. After organizing them, I managed to piece together two keywords from the Devil’s fragmented whispers: sanctuary and the Abyss.”

“From this, I deduce that the Ancient Gods are divided into two different factions: the sanctuary… and the Abyss.”

Victor’s expression was grave, and the howling monsoon winds stilled at that moment.

Sylvia nodded in thought. “The difference in the scale of time caused the whispers to be fragmented. A single word, a single sentence, might take several years, even a decade, to be spoken completely. No wonder Tofwen the Wizard couldn’t decipher the existence of the ‘sanctuary’ and ‘the Abyss’… It seems the Ancient Gods are in a terrible predicament.”

The difficulties in communication between the Devils and the Wizard, which they themselves could not resolve, were enough to show that their condition was not good.

Victor smiled and nodded. “The Ancient Gods defied the Creator’s will and paid a price for it. I’m afraid their very existence is threatened by Taelonriel. Separated from the physical world and the Elemental Sea, how are they to sustain themselves? The Eternal War and the Blood Sacrifice War of the Chosen seem to point to the answer.”

“The Ancient Behemoths devoured the Divine Law of their own kind to achieve immortal Ancient Godhood; Devils enjoyed the blood sacrifices of Wizards; beastmen, elves, barbarians, and eventually even humans became sacrifices… In the end, the soul and bloodline of life all originate from the Creator, and the Devils or Ancient Gods sustain themselves by absorbing the Creator’s Divine Law and Bloodline Law,” Sylvia sighed softly, turning to Victor. “Besides that, they have another method of survival… to gain the recognition of the Creator, Taelonriel?”

Trisley asked in confusion, “If the Ancient Gods abandoned the Creator’s path of pan-consciousness, how could they still gain the Creator’s recognition? According to Victor’s Mind Bloodline secret art theory, the Creator Himself has already become a pan-consciousness…”

Victor exhaled and said softly, “The collective faith of the Creator’s offspring, the primordial human race.”

Trisley’s heart filled with shock, a turquoise light flashing in the depths of her eyes as she asked coldly, “Are you saying the Blood Sacrifice War was a conspiracy planned by an Ancient God, who became the Lord of Radiance?!”

“Not necessarily… Even if that were the case, He is now the guardian deity of humanity and has no autonomous consciousness.” Sylvia frowned and shook her head. “An Ancient God shouldn’t have chosen to become the Lord of Radiance.”

“It’s a mystery. I’m afraid even the first Pope Inoc didn’t fully understand the whole story,” Victor added. “In any case, the Devils are among us. They have always been here. Perhaps the sanctuary and the Abyss are currently plotting conspiracies centered on the primordial human race.”

The three of them fell silent for a while. Sylvia was the first to ask, “Do you suspect that the Shadow Knight in the Giantwood Forest was Nachtigal?”

Victor nodded, then shook his head, saying thoughtfully, “I’ve never been able to figure out Nachtigal… He can cast the divine arts of Radiance, so he obviously can’t be a Shadow Knight. However, this beastman war has elevated the six great Paladin families of the Radiant Knights to another level. Testier has been promoted to Legendary, and two Stormwind Paladins have reached their peak. The Testier family is now the First Paladin family in truth. And yet, Nachtigal has made no move at all… He claims that as long as Aerie Fortress gives up the blood feud with the late King Ryan and agrees to let the Randt Imperial territory join the southern expansion alliance, he will have Neo Wester dissolve the Randt Empire… Even if Nachtigal has great influence over the Neo Wester family, once Neo Wester gives up the title of Emperor, Nachtigal’s secular power would suffer the greatest blow. He would be relegated from a follower of an Emperor to a follower of an independent lord… Reputation functions similarly to faith; both concentrate the Creator’s pan-consciousness to gain the favor of the Force of Destiny. Doing this would only bring shame to Nachtigal’s family and cause them to lose the Force of Destiny’s favor. The six great Paladin families, relying on the Sasan Empire for development, will only grow stronger, and the gap between them and Nachtigal will widen further. This is not something to be taken lightly…”

Sylvia nodded in agreement. “With the secular power of the Radiant Knights growing and their influence increasing, they could easily help the Neo Wester family. And once Neo Wester renounces the title of Emperor of Randt, he will have more freedom. The three kingdoms will no longer be hostile to the Eagle family. Without potential enemies, would Neo Wester still need to rely on Nachtigal’s support? For Nachtigal to have Neo Wester abdicate is tantamount to Nachtigal giving up his control over Neo Wester.”

“I also can’t understand Nachtigal’s decision to cut off his own arm,” Sylvia said with a faint smile, shaking her head. Then she changed the subject. “However, they have the Pope… The Pope represents the Church, and the Church’s prestige is the Pope’s prestige. As the Pope’s iron guard, Nachtigal can always get a share of the Force of Destiny’s favor from the Pope.”

“I only want to ask you one thing. Was Jacob Ludwig’s attack on Raymond Peter in the Twilight Forest something you orchestrated?” Sylvia asked.

Victor answered frankly, “Yes. I suspected the Shadow Council had chosen Raymond Peter to be their agent in the south, so I used the spies of the House of Randell to place an informant by his side.”

Sylvia thought for a few seconds and said, “Trigovar purged the Shadow Priests, but then Princess Elizabeth was attacked by a Legendary Wizard and disappeared. You believe the true Shadow Council was not affected by the Inquisition’s crackdown, and they still desire status and fame. Raymond Peter is a piece they have placed on the board, Baselius is a partner they are trying to win over, and we were originally chosen as collaborators by the Shadow Council as well, but the Shadow Knight ruined the Shadow Council President’s plans. There is a Devil’s conspiracy behind all this… In that case, tell me, why would the Devil’s devotee, the Shadow Knight, want to assassinate you?”

Victor shook his head, his face expressionless. “I don’t know.”

Delving deeper into this question would involve the secrets of the Alchemy Tower, which Victor could not bring himself to speak of, at least not to Sylvia right now.

“I have a theory… It’s because of the Mind Bloodline secret art.” Sylvia withdrew her gaze from Victor’s face and elaborated, “The Wizards of the Shadow Council want fame and status, and the Devils want to scheme against the Lord of Radiance. But the high-ranking Wizards of the Shadow Council know well that Devils cannot be trusted. So, the Devils found another way to lure the Wizards into their scheme. Not only did they present the Bloodboil and Gold Potions, but they also taught the Shadow Wizards how to concoct magical potions and create Bloodguards.”

“The Gold Potion is certainly more valuable than the Bloodboil magical potion, but the Shadow Council can only use the Gold Potion to elevate Raymond Peter’s status. They can’t possibly use it to buy off the great lords, because concocting the Gold Potion doesn’t require a Wizard. If a great lord obtained the Gold Potion, he would only silence the Wizard who contributed the formula. How could he possibly cooperate with them?”

“The Bloodboil magical potion is different. It requires a Wizard’s magic to create a Bloodguard. Auroxia is interested in the magical potion, and I am very interested as well. This might be the very trap set by the Devils. The Bloodboil magical potion can alter a person’s Bloodline Law, originating from the will fragments of the Ancient Behemoths, the King of Nightmares and the Lord of Gluttony.”

“However, the Mind Bloodline secret art you created can replicate the talents of a Bloodguard, and it doesn’t have the drawback of altering the Bloodline Law. In that case, what do I need the Bloodboil magical potion for?”

Victor looked into Sylvia’s clear, azure eyes and had a sudden realization. Without knowing it, he had become an obstacle for the Devils.

He had been so entangled in the secrets of the Alchemical Empire that he had failed to realize this. Sylvia, however, knew that Father Miller had been a great inspiration for Victor’s creation of the Mind Bloodline secret art, and the God-favored of the Lord of Radiance had always been the backbone of the fight against the Devils.

Trisley, who didn’t know Father Miller’s true identity, said, “In that case, should we issue a warning to the Church and the lords to completely ban the Bloodboil Potion?”

Sylvia smiled faintly. “We don’t need to interfere in this matter. Someone will handle it.”

Trisley did not press further, nodding in deference to Sylvia’s will. She changed the subject, asking, “Princess Celine and her retinue might be a problem. Should I arrange for spies to investigate them thoroughly?”

“If a Wizard, or even a Devil, has been involved, how could our spies possibly uncover the truth?”

Sylvia shook her head and ordered, “Let Celine and her retinue go to the Randell Fief and stay for a while… They can only stay in the Monastery beneath the great cathedral in Laketon. They are not to leave without an order from Rose Manor.”

With that, Sylvia pulled Victor to his feet, her eyes curving into crescents. “My dear, one day, no secret will be able to hide from me, not even a Devil’s. But I don’t want to… The Church is specifically for dealing with Devils and Wizards. We will just do our own thing.”

“What is it you want now?” Victor saw the sly smile on Sylvia’s face and knew she was scheming something involving him again.

“My dear, didn’t The Faceless want to build a secret Potion-making fortress with us? Red Frost Tree Manor is a great choice. Go to the Randell Fief and bring that shorty Glyn back,” Sylvia said affectionately, hugging Victor’s arm. “I really want to see what kind of Bloodguard you’ve created.”

It was a reasonable suggestion. Victor nodded. “Alright, I’ll go to the Randell Fief tomorrow and be back in half a month. I’ll bring the three million gold coins the King of Naville gave me back to Silver Moon Manor as well…”

Trisley interjected with an innocent expression, “Only two million… You gave the other million Gold Sol to Aerie Fortress.”

Chapter 714: The Allure of Gold

One million Gold Sols was no small sum. This war offering was to be split according to the share proportions of the Double-Headed Dragon Merchant Association, meaning House of Randell only needed to pay two hundred thousand Gold Sols. For Sylvia to suggest that House of Randell bear the entire cost alone… how could Victor possibly agree?

Victor had severely underestimated women’s passion for gold, and the two Extraordinary Knights, Sylvia and Trisley, were no exception.

No matter if he invoked the authority of the Raging Wind Sword Saint, the dignity of a husband, or the gentle wiles of a lover—he even employed his Royal Court secret techniques on Sylvia and Trisley—they simply would not agree to return the one million Gold Sols of the war offering to him.

Victor remained at Red Frost Tree Manor for another ten days, pleading and cajoling, engaging in a battle of wits and wills with Sylvia and Trisley. The delights of their exchanges were self-evident, but the issue of the war offering remained unresolved.

Left with no other choice, His Highness Randell, in his capacity as the largest shareholder of the Double-Headed Dragon Merchant Association, called an emergency meeting to discuss the association’s largest-ever dividend payout, planning to use the high-ranking female knights of the Centaur Hills to deal with Sylvia and Trisley. The lords who held shares in the merchant association gathered together and began to divide the twenty million Gold Sols transported from the Kingdom of Naville.

Originally, this fortune could have been used to mint the Centaur Hills’ Purple Gold Coins. But with His Highness Randell leading the charge, the other shareholders all supported distributing the funds first. Even Duke York’s staunch opposition was futile. In the end, Victor set off on the journey to Laketon with a convoy carrying six million Gold Sols.

House of Randell held a twenty-percent share in the Double-Headed Dragon Merchant Association. Adding the three million in gift money from King Rex to the Raging Wind Sword Saint, and then subtracting the two hundred thousand for the war offering, Victor should have actually taken six million eight hundred thousand Gold Sols. Therefore, the remaining eight hundred thousand Gold Sols still ended up in Sylvia’s pocket.

Watching the brilliant yellow-gold coins being loaded onto the carriages box by box, weighing them down until the wheels sank, Victor’s heart was heavy with satisfaction. Thinking of the eight hundred thousand Gold Sols Sylvia had claimed, he felt a pang of reluctance but couldn’t bring himself to be truly angry.

The Guardian of the Centaur Hills didn’t have private savings; if Sylvia needed money, she just had to instruct the steward, and Duke York would be responsible for procuring it. However, the wife of His Highness Randell ought to have her own money. They were in the process of building their own household. Since Sylvia and Trisley wanted to experience the joy of a wife managing the finances, how could Victor let that fat pig Enbise meddle in his family’s finances?

Eight hundred thousand Gold Sols could create sixteen Alchemical Dragon-Lizards. Now that Victor had a full six million Gold Sols in hand, sixteen Alchemical Dragon-Lizards didn’t seem like such a big deal.

In reality, Alchemical Dragon-Lizards were far less cost-effective than the third-level Source-Blood Militia. On top of the abilities of a level-three Gryphon Militiaman, they possessed the Vital Tenacity Talent, granting them Superhuman Stamina, a powerful Physique, Minor Self-Healing, and the ability to endure harsh environments. And the cost to create a third-level Source-Blood Militiaman was the same as a level-three Gryphon Militiaman: only 4,866 Gold Sols.

Victor had never been so flush with funds. He was already looking forward to creating level-four Source-Blood Militia, which cost 7,800 Gold Sols each.

After thirty-one days, the magnificent convoy of gold-laden carriages entered Randell Fief. Nicole, Lilia, Elina, and Alice, leading their attendants, were waiting at the border outpost to welcome Victor’s carriage.

It was now the cold Season of Water. The four ladies of House of Randell were exquisitely dressed, wearing snow-white fox-fur cloaks that made them look exceptionally beautiful and delicate.

Victor stepped down from his carriage. They curtsied and said in unison, “Good day, Your Highness. Welcome back from your triumphant return.”

“There’s no need for such formality.” Victor stepped forward and embraced each of his four ladies in turn, kissing their delicate cheeks. Finally, he took Nicole’s slender, fair hands and asked with a broad smile, “My dears, I’ve missed you every moment. It’s so good to see you all.”

“I missed you too.” Nicole gazed deeply into Victor’s eyes, her expression gradually turning to surprise. “Darling, why are the golden rings in your eyes gone?”

“My eyes have always been black.”

Victor had deliberately entered the Soul of Water Mist state, which made him seem more approachable and put his women at ease.

“Oh… are all the carriages behind you carrying gold?” Nicole let go of Victor’s hand, her eyes shining as she walked toward the convoy. Lilia and her sister Elina followed.

The smile froze on Victor’s face. He had a bad feeling about this. He suspected the four women had their eyes on this money for a long time.

Their husband returns from a long expedition, a long-awaited reunion, and not only are there no tears, but they’re all fawning over the gold carriages? Is my charm worth less than Gold Sols?

The four ladies enthusiastically gathered around a gold carriage, examining and commenting on it. Victor complained internally, feeling an inexplicable sense of disappointment. Charlotte came over, took his arm, and said understandingly, “Anyone seeing six million gold coins for the first time would inevitably get carried away with excitement.”

Victor patted Charlotte’s hand, lowered his voice, and said with feeling, “To think you can withstand the temptation of gold. You are truly worthy of being my Sworn Knight.”

Charlotte covered her mouth, stifling a laugh. “When we were counting the coins in Goldwater City, I already rolled around in them.”

“…” Victor shrugged and said helplessly, “Alright, it seems all my partners have dragon blood in them.”

“You too,” Charlotte said with a bewitching smile, planting a quick peck on Victor’s cheek.

Nicole and the others insisted on inspecting every single carriage. One moment they were asking a driver if the axles were alright; the next they were ordering an attendant to climb into the carriage to count the chests of gold. At this rate, the convoy wouldn’t be on the road by nightfall.

Victor finally lost his patience. In full view of everyone, and ignoring the protests of his four ‘dragon-blooded’ ladies, he carried them one by one into his own carriage, shut the door tight, and ordered the convoy to head for Silver Moon Manor.

The carriage, exquisitely crafted by the Silver Spire, rode smoothly with a crisp tinkling of bells. Inside, Victor taught his four ladies a lesson, and no one was the wiser. By the time the convoy drove into Silver Moon Manor, they had finally returned to normal, each with a crimson blush on her cheeks and a gaze like rippling water, flocking around Victor as he entered the lord’s residence.

Inside the elegant yet luxurious great hall, dozens of beautiful maids stood in two lines. Led by the deputy steward, they bowed to Victor and said in sweet voices, “Welcome back to Silver Moon Manor, Master.”

Having been away from Randell Fief for nearly three years, Victor noticed many new faces among the household maids at Silver Moon Manor. The slightly older maids were no longer there, likely having married and left. He walked to the back of the line, stopped, and looked down at a young handmaiden of about ten, unable to hold back a smile. “Bel, have you gotten chubbier again?”

Beldina was dressed in a red and white handmaiden’s dress with low-heeled calfskin boots. It seemed she had grown taller, but in reality, she hadn’t. Her face was plump and rosy; she was clearly fatter than three years ago, but she was as cute as ever.

Her large, innocent eyes blinked a few times, as if to confirm that Victor still doted on her. Bel’s little mouth trembled, and with a wail, she threw herself into Victor’s arms, smearing tears and snot all over his clothes while sobbing, “Master, Bel missed you so much…”

Victor hadn’t expected that the first tears shed upon his return would be from the little chubster, Bel.

“The evening banquet is about to start. If you keep crying, Lady Elina won’t let you attend.” Victor picked up little Bel, using a mild threat to comfort her.

Bel quickly rubbed her eyes and asked between sobs, “Master, have I gotten taller?”

How could she have gotten taller? She’s only gotten fatter, not taller… Victor looked at Bel’s earnest and expectant expression, and the words on the tip of his tongue changed. “Yes, you’ve grown a tiny bit. A normal person wouldn’t be able to tell, but I can see you’ve gotten taller.”

“Really? How much taller?”

“Well…” Victor raised a hand to gesture vaguely, deciding to distract her. “The big simpleton is just behind us. He’s very impressive now, go ask him.”

Bel slid out of Victor’s arms to the floor, hitched up her skirt, and dashed out, her footsteps thudding loudly on the floorboards.

“Heh, she runs pretty fast.” Victor withdrew his gaze and turned to Nicole. “The little one seems to have something on her mind.”

Nicole came forward and took Victor’s arm. As they walked, she explained, “Seeing her former sisters get married and have children—even their children call her ‘sister’ now—Bel has gotten a little anxious. She eats as much as two warriors every day, but she just doesn’t seem to grow any taller. Neither Father Dayn nor Father Miller can find anything wrong with her.”

Just like Caligula, Beldina was also highly regarded by Father Miller. Aka was now a Gold-rank Ferocious Warrior who had mastered the divine art of Valor and the Touch of the Mind, and was on the path to becoming a Radiant War God. Victor had high hopes for the little Shamaness who possessed a natural luck aura and charm, and who ate a lot without growing taller.

“I might be able to help her, but… Beldina is quite cute just the way she is,” Victor said with a smile.

The evening banquet to welcome the lord’s return was held at Silver Moon Manor, and all of Victor’s first followers and the high-ranking officials of Randell Fief attended. The lively banquet lasted until midnight. Due to the cold weather and heavy fog, Elina arranged for everyone to stay the night at Silver Moon Manor and leave the next day. In any case, Silver Moon Manor was vast, with numerous buildings and ample lodging.

Only Father Miller, afraid that Victor would pester him with questions, insisted on returning to the Church in Laketon. High-ranked Priest Dayn had originally wanted to stay at Silver Moon Manor to get closer to the Raging Wind Sword Saint and see if he could secure some offerings for the Church. But since the resident priest was leaving, the clergy of Randell Fief had no choice but to take their leave of their host.

Victor thought nothing of it. After seeing Father Miller off, he returned to the lord’s residence and, attended by Elina and her sister, enjoyed a comfortable hot bath.

Entering the master bedroom on the third floor, Victor lay on the bed for a while before Nicole and Lilia finally arrived, fashionably late.

Seeing his two ladies still in their formal long gowns, Victor was furious. He sat up and said, “It’s so late, are you two still planning to go count the gold?”

Nicole gave a beautiful smile and offered him a sweet kiss. Cupping Victor’s face, she said softly, “Darling, don’t be angry… Lilia and I went to see if the gold had been stored in the vault… There are so many coins this time, we were worried the vault we prepared wouldn’t be large enough.”

“And to roll around in the pile of coins and then sleep on it?” Victor said, halfway between amusement and exasperation.

“This is official business. It’s my duty,” Lilia said, wrinkling her nose playfully.

Victor reached for her, intending to pull the little miser over his knee for a spanking. Lilia, wearing high heels, spun lightly away with an elegant posture, but Victor still managed to grab her wrist.

Victor released Lilia, asking in pleasant surprise, “That was a flawless circulation of power. You’ve ignited the fire of the mind?”

Lilia smiled, pursing her lips, and nodded. With demure pride, she said, “Half a year ago, while practicing the Gryphon Combat Technique, I was fortunate enough to ignite the fire of the mind. The feeling was truly wonderful…”

The Gryphon Combat Technique could, in theory, ignite the fire of the mind. This was the first time Victor had seen a real case of it, and it was Lilia, no less. He was happy for her achievement and even more interested in the internal and external changes it brought. But that was a matter that could wait.

“My dear, you’ve really given me a surprise.” Victor smiled, then turned to the red-haired, green-eyed twin sisters and said, “Whoever wants to count gold, go on then.”

“Darling, let Charlotte keep you company tonight,” Nicole said apologetically, though her eyes were sparkling.

Victor stood up and said nonchalantly, “Who said I was going to sleep? I said we’re all going to count gold.”

Charlotte peeked her head out from the inner room, her smile like a blooming flower, and said, “Me too!”

Chapter 715: The “Out of Favor” Gold-Eyed Earl

After his promotion to the Legendary realm, a problem arose between Victor, Nicole, and his three personal handmaidens. This was mainly because Victor’s level of life had undergone a qualitative change, and his powers of observation had reached an unbelievable degree, placing his mental perspective on a completely different plane from that of mortals.

The household maids of a great lord were all beautiful young women, one in a hundred. Their features, figures, skin, natural fragrance, and voices were all subject to strict selection standards, and they also had to undergo the family’s professional training. Before they married, these household maids were considered part of the lord’s harem, free for him to take whatever he wanted, but Victor couldn’t muster the slightest interest in the household maids of Silver Moon Manor.

In the eyes of an ordinary person, every one of the Silver Moon maids was bewitchingly beautiful, but the blemishes on their skin, the faint odor of sweat masked by their perfume, and other such minute flaws were magnified several times over before His Highness Randell’s extraordinary Perception. Coupled with Victor’s incredibly long-range Perception, besides Sylvia, there was currently no one else who could bring him an emotional, pleasant surprise.

Fortunately, Victor had the X-3 to selectively tone down and correct the flaws he perceived, but that kind of beautification was reserved for a very small number of people, such as the sisters Lilia and Elina.

On the other hand, as a top-tier Legendary creature, Victor’s appearance did not exhibit any kind of return to true simplicity; his beauty was like the sun in the sky, and his divine, extraordinary charisma inspired only awe in ordinary people, who dared not harbor any profane thoughts.

Nicole’s situation was better, as she was, after all, a senior knight who could step into the extraordinary realm at any moment. The sisters Lilia and Elina, however, could not. The most obvious change was in Alice. She had a lively nature and had previously loved to cling to Victor and vie for his favor, but in the face of the Gold-Eyed Earl, she gradually grew silent, appearing cautious and meticulous in everything she did.

After a three-year absence, Victor had returned as the Raging Wind Sword Saint who had slain a Legendary beastman. Even though he deliberately maintained his Soul of Water Mist state, it was difficult to conceal the inviolable Posture of a Saint realm expert. Lilia and the others felt a mental pressure from Victor and almost instinctively shifted their focus, trying to find other ways to dispel the sense of unfamiliarity between them.

It was as if a beloved husband had returned from a long expedition, only to have transformed into a dragon that could blow you to your death with a single breath. Any woman facing such a change would need a period of adjustment to get to know him all over again.

Counting gold coins together was a good method. They had gone through the family’s most difficult pioneering period with Victor, a time when they wished they could break every Copper Sol in their pockets into several pieces. This was, in fact, the case, as the exchange of one Copper Sol for ten copper pieces originated from Victor’s own idea. Now, Victor had brought back several million gold coins. As the ladies of the Randall family, Nicole and Lilia naturally felt proud and joyous, which in turn evoked Victor’s own fond memories of them.

In truth, Victor had a deep emotional foundation with Nicole, Lilia, and Elina, and he cherished them all dearly. For the next few days, His Highness Randell did not inquire about family affairs, focusing solely on accompanying Nicole and his three personal handmaidens. They counted gold coins, went sightseeing, hunted, and camped together, gradually rediscovering their sense of seamless intimacy.

On the afternoon five days later, Nicole placed a family financial budget on Victor’s desk, formally beginning their discussion of family affairs.

“Darling, you must be joking. You have to be joking.” Victor’s smile was exaggerated as he waved the hide paper in his hand, complaining in a half-joking, half-grumbling tone, “There are no detailed plans or projects on here. You just open by asking me for five point five million Gold Sols… This isn’t a financial budget, it’s clearly a bill.”

“Where’s Lilia? For the family’s financial budget to be done like this is just outrageous… I’m going to find her!” Victor put down the parchment scroll, clamoring as if he intended to slip away.

Nicole walked around the desk and sat in Victor’s lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. She smiled radiantly and said, “Darling, time was short, so this family budget doesn’t list the details. But I can tell you about them first, how about that?”

The weather outside was cold, but the fireplace in the study was unlit. Nicole’s hair was down, and she wore only a thin, Spider silk nightgown, revealing a pair of long, shapely, snow-white legs.

It was rare for Nicole to take the initiative to use her feminine charms, and Victor naturally encouraged her, holding her and teasing, “I’m listening. If your reasons don’t satisfy me, then you’ll have to accept my punishment.”

“…I’m not afraid of you.” Nicole’s cheeks flushed slightly. She narrowed her eyes and said, “The House of Randell responded to the red smoke beacon, dispatching seven hundred cavalry and two hundred and forty Swiftbird light cavalry to fight the Sidon Centaurs. In the Centaur Hills, and even among all the lords of the Gambis Kingdom, our losses were the greatest. A total of five hundred and eighty-eight men were killed in action, and sixty-seven were severely wounded and disabled. These brave and loyal soldiers need compensation…”

Before the expedition, Victor had already planned to replace all the Alchemical humans in the Randell Fief. The elites the House of Randell sent to war numbered only two hundred and eighty-four Vassal soldiers; the rest were Alchemical militia and Alchemical auxiliary soldiers drafted from the mercenary legion. The alchemical creatures fought fearlessly to the last man. In reality, the House of Randell’s Vassal cavalry had only lost sixty-one men, and those who survived had been tempered by war and could be promoted to important positions. As for the Alchemical humans, they required no compensation; even their usual bounties and salaries were handed over to the Alchemy Tower.

“Compensation… I’ll give triple compensation, and that still won’t be much money,” Victor said flatly.

Nicole bit her red lip and continued, “Also, the mercenary armies of the Centaur Hills have been taking turns guarding the Ghost Forest pioneering outpost to ensure the southern migration route for the refugees remains open. Our House of Randell dispatches fifteen hundred men each time. They have suffered casualties fighting the prairie Gnolls and forest Gnolls. The Randall First Legion and Second Legion have already lost seventy-four men, with thirty-three severely injured and disabled, and over two hundred others with light injuries… According to the Legion’s regulations, we not only have to provide compensation for the casualties among the mercenary soldiers, but we also have to pay merit-based bounties and double commission to the soldiers who go into battle. This is equivalent to us hiring an extra fifteen hundred soldiers…”

“Mm, the annual commission for a mercenary soldier is six gold coins. Adding fifteen hundred men means an increase of nine thousand Gold Sols in expenses… Even with six million Gold Sols, I couldn’t afford to spend like that. It would all be gone in less than six hundred and sixty-seven years… So, I’ve already reached an agreement with King Friedrich. Before the end of next year’s Season of Wind, the Dodor Kingdom’s army will take back control of the Ghost Forest pioneering outpost, and all of the Centaur Hills’ mercenary legions will withdraw,” Victor said teasingly.

“That’s not what I mean, I haven’t finished yet…” Nicole flew into a rage from shame and humiliation. She opened her little mouth as if to bite Victor’s ear, but was immediately suppressed.

The two shared some intimate contact, cuddling for a while before she continued, “The Kingdom is preparing to launch a new Fishman War. I plan to expand the House of Randell’s mercenary legions from two legions of six thousand men to three legions of nine thousand men, plus three Ranger reserve units and six hundred elite Swiftbird cavalry.”

After listening, Victor said with a faint smile, “Expanding the army can’t be done with money alone. Manpower, training, equipment, education in loyalty and courage, and commissions—all these factors must be considered. Take the Rangers, for example. I’ve positioned them as the family’s elite, based on the standard of a level-two Source Blood warrior. Their physical fitness should be three times that of an ordinary person, and their combat effectiveness should be comparable to a typical Mystic Warrior or an initial-rank apprentice knight. Are you sure the House of Randell has the resources and heritage to meet the demands of this expansion?”

Nicole hummed an affirmative and nodded, saying, “The Randell Fief has a permanent population of four hundred and forty thousand, mostly tenant households, with over ninety thousand able-bodied men and women. Expanding by a three-thousand-man mercenary legion won’t affect the fief’s operations at all. Furthermore, we’ve recently settled refugees from Sasan, numbering over twenty-seven thousand. The able-bodied men and women are close to ten thousand, with over six thousand elderly people above fifty, but most of them are skilled craftsmen. The rest are underage children. As long as these refugees become tenant households, they can serve as the labor force for the Randell Fief.”

Refugees from the Sasan Empire had migrated to the Gambis Kingdom to escape the ravages of war. These refugees clearly lacked a pioneering and adventurous spirit, so it was impossible for the mercenary legions to recruit them. However, the fact that they could walk from the distant Sasan Empire to the southernmost part of the Centaur Hills indicated that they were in good physical condition. Even the elderly over fifty were as good as half a strong laborer, making them perfectly suited to fill the lower strata of the Randell Fief, freeing up a portion of the tenant farmers and thereby increasing the number of craftsmen and mercenary soldiers.

The adults among the refugees were not of much use, but their children, who would receive the Randall family’s general education, were still worth looking forward to.

On the issue of absorbing refugee populations, it wasn’t a matter of whose reputation was greater getting more people. It depended on the fief’s capacity for resettlement, a test of the family’s level of governance. The fact that the Randell Fief was allocated twenty-seven thousand Sasan refugees showed that the House of Randell could absorb such a population without any pressure. Victor was quite satisfied with Nicole’s performance.

“The Randell Fief has established two Retainer Training Camps and has recruited four hundred and forty-three apprentice retainers from the first graduating class of the Legion School. I predict that in five years, half of the apprentice retainers will reach the standard of level-2 Source Blood warriors. They can be organized into a Ranger unit… but just over two hundred Rangers is definitely not enough. So I plan to expand by four more Retainer Training Camps. Even if the success rate for apprentice retainers is only fifty percent, we can still train six hundred Source Blood warriors every year,” Nicole said, a smile playing on her lips, her voice full of hopeful anticipation.

Level-2 Source Blood warriors weren’t lettuces in a field that could sprout with a little water and fertilizer. A fifty percent success rate in the Retainer Training Camp was only the most idealistic scenario. Graduates of the Legion School were one in a thousand, and of those who entered the Retainer Training Camp, Victor would be delighted if a quarter of them ultimately reached the standard of a Source Blood warrior. Moreover, the larger the base of apprentice retainers, the lower the success rate and the higher the training costs. Nicole’s vision was simply unrealistic.

Victor couldn’t help but say, “I remember that most tenant household families are unwilling to send their children to the Legion School to receive martial skills training.”

“I’m going to revise the Legion School’s recruitment method. The family will cover more than half of the young students’ expenses. Those with outstanding performance can also receive bounties, or we can even directly pay an inducement fee to adopt them. In short, we must do everything possible to encourage the children of tenant households to join the Legion School… This will require a huge sum of money.” Nicole’s enthusiasm was palpable. “Also, we can use rock brick now. Laketon is about to be expanded into the fief’s capital city, which will involve constructing the main fortress, the outer city wall, and two auxiliary forts. All the outposts and barracks in the fief need to be rebuilt. Administrative villages will be upgraded to towns, which will also require the construction of rock brick barracks and defensive walls… Oh, right, I’ve seen the blueprints for the Candlefort fortress to be built at Hill Camp. The Candlefort you personally designed is magnificent and spectacular, practically a fortress city… I plan to start construction next year, with an estimated completion in fifteen years.”

“Darling, this is going to cost a lot, a lot of money,” Nicole said with a gentle smile, a hint of smugness hiding in her bright eyes.

Victor’s deep, captivating black eyes shifted to a divine dark gold as he said flatly, “You may lack a clear concept of what six million Gold Sols is… Not counting the Naville Royal Family’s privately minted currency, no royal family in the human kingdoms could produce six million Gold Sols at once. Yet the fortresses and castles they’ve built, if converted to gold coins, would be worth far more than six million… Let’s put it this way, the financial budget you’ve given me projects fifteen years into the future, but it doesn’t mention a single word about the family’s annual income. If we consider the factor of a balanced family budget, even without these six million Gold Sols, I could accomplish all your goals, including the construction of Candlefort, within ten years.”

“Darling, what kind of budget is this? You won’t be satisfied until you have all six million Gold Sols in your hands…”

Nicole lowered her head and remained silent for a moment before speaking truthfully, “I’m afraid you’ll spend all this money on the Centaur Hills, not for the House of Randell.”

Victor smiled and nodded. “So you were afraid I’d favor Sylvia, and that’s why you asked me for more first?”

“You’ll be living with My Lady from now on. Will you even care about us then?” Nicole pouted her red lips and said sourly.

Nicole was probably the only experienced female knight who dared to openly engage in rivalry for a lady’s affection with Sylvia. It was ironic, considering she came from Rose Manor and was considered part of Sylvia’s core faction, yet now she was scheming to guard against her former mistress for the sake of the House of Randell, just as Victor had once done.

There was always a place for Nicole in the softest part of Victor’s heart. He gently stroked his lover’s hair and said in a soft voice, “Red Frost Tree Manor isn’t far from here. I can come back to be with you anytime. I promise to stay at Silver Moon Manor for five days every month…”

Nicole looked up, directly into her Lover’s dark gold eyes, and said softly, “I don’t believe you… My Lady is the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s partner.”

Victor rubbed his nose and smiled wryly. “You have so little faith in me… Alright, I promise to spend at least five days with you every month. If I’m delayed by something, the days I owe my darling Nicole will be carried over to the next month.”

“Being short one day means a penalty of two days,” Nicole said, wrinkling her nose and wrapping her arms around Victor’s neck with a charming coyness.

“Alright, I promise you,” Victor nodded in agreement, then added, “Since I brought this gold back, I won’t be shipping it away. Researching the Mind Bloodline secret art is more expensive than buying a dragon, but the Centaur Hills isn’t short of money right now. These six million Gold Sols will be stored in the House of Randell’s Treasury… However, I’m only leaving you two million gold coins. The other four million, I have other plans for…”

“Only two million? Can’t you leave three million for the family?” Nicole asked, unwilling to give up.

Victor shook his head and said, “Don’t underestimate two million Gold Sols… Within two or three years, the purchasing power of the Gold Sol might double compared to now. Two million will be like four million, or even more. Of course, the value of Gold, Silver, and Copper Sols will soon fall again… There are patterns, risks, and opportunities in all this. You can do whatever you want with the two million Gold Sols. I won’t ask any questions. Even if you lose it all, it doesn’t matter. Just consider it a test of your governance… In any case, the rise of our House of Randell is already unstoppable.”

“Mm, darling, I’ll listen to you,” Nicole said, resting against Victor’s chest, completely content.

The Laketon Treasury still held two hundred sixty thousand Gold Sols. For an earldom that was only twelve years old, this was an unimaginably huge fortune. Looking across the entire human kingdoms, one would be hard-pressed to find any lord who would let his wife handle two million gold coins with full authority, especially when Victor had more than one wife, and Sylvia was the preeminent, legitimate one.

Having followed Victor for so many years and been constantly under his influence, Nicole was in a period of transformation, caught between The Old and the New in her perception of wealth. There were many things she only half-understood, but she secretly resolved not to let her Lover be disappointed in her.

Victor patted Nicole’s slender hand and said, “Alright, go and call Tao De for me. I have some matters to discuss with the Quicksilver spies.”

Nicole gave Victor a light kiss on the lips, left his embrace, and walked towards the door.

When the sound of Nicole’s light footsteps disappeared into the third-floor dressing room, a complex expression flickered across Victor’s face—gratification, loss, deep thought. He sighed silently and said in a voice only he could hear, “…Even Lilia has ‘defected’ to Nicole’s side… Does this mean I’m out of favor in the Randell Fief?”

Chapter 716: Strategic Adjustments

The Huaxia adage, “the tea cools once the guest has left,” was a perfect description of Victor’s situation in the Randell Fief.

When Victor was still a viscount lord, the House of Randell had three strata and four factions. The three strata were the Nobles, the vassal liege’s subjects, and the tenant refugees. The tenant refugees were the most numerous, but they were scattered into small family units, unable to form a faction with core representation. Their political force was so weak as to be negligible.

The factions that could truly influence Victor were the War Bear Mercenaries, represented by Narsen and his sister; the liege’s subjects under the work point system, represented by Village Head Moline; the attendants and maids, represented by the Elina sisters; and the merchants, represented by Magistrate Monkey. The War Bear Mercenaries and the work point system members were Victor’s earliest followers. Their relationship was close, capable of both opposition and alliance. After the Elina sisters took charge of Silver Moon Manor, the War Bear Mercenaries and the village heads all rallied around Lilia. Coupled with Victor’s intentional favoritism, the Elina sisters—who had the backing of the York family and a knight’s bloodline—became the weaker party. Victor then pushed Monkey into the position of Laketon’s magistrate to act as a buffer between the two sides, what’s commonly known as a “punching bag,” to maintain the balance of power within the family.

After Victor advanced to the Legendary realm and stepped onto a wider stage, he no longer had as much time to oversee the development of the Randell Fief. Nicole began to frequent Silver Moon Manor, managing the viscounty and barony on Victor’s behalf in her role as the family’s deputy leader.

She was Victor’s lover, a member of Sylvia’s core faction, and a true Knight.

A Water Lizard had slipped into the small pond, and the internal balance of the House of Randell was instantly shattered.

Nicole came from a humble background. Her father was a minor noble who had fallen on hard times, and her mother was a common maid who didn’t even have official status. Although she possessed a noble bloodline, she could only be considered an illegitimate daughter. However, she was selected by Rose Manor to serve Sylvia and was tutored by the petty and jealous Trisley, which cultivated in her a personality that was simultaneously humble and haughty.

Though Nicole appeared tender and completely obedient before Victor, she was always stern with lower-class people. When she caught a few ruffians in Black Fortress Town infringing on Victor’s properties, she executed them on the street without even asking for the cause. Afterward, the priest of Black Fortress Town quietly commented that Nicole was “utterly brutal.” She had even drawn her sword and threatened Duke York’s confidant, a Scribe, over supplies for the liege’s subjects of the Randell Fief, nearly cutting the man down.

Nicole’s gentleness was reserved only for Victor. The core members of the Randell Fief saw a harsh, severe mistress who made them tremble with fear.

At the lord’s Evening Banquet five days ago, Victor noticed that Nicole’s attitude towards the village heads, the War Bear Mercenaries, and Magistrate Munk was warm and tolerant. She smiled often, unlike her usual cold and arrogant self. After the banquet, Nicole even said the weather was cold and specially arranged for the attending family executives to stay overnight at Silver Moon Manor.

The followers qualified to attend the banquet were all esteemed masters now, with servants, carriages, and guards. No matter how cold the weather or how late the hour, they could have easily returned home to sleep.

Nicole regarded Silver Moon Manor as the love nest she shared with Victor. Shouldn’t the proud, cold mistress of Silver Moon Manor have sent the village heads and the magistrate packing?

Victor felt then that Nicole was acting out of character, and that wasn’t the only anomaly.

Nicole was no ordinary experienced female knight. She was brave and resolute, possessing a powerful will to resist fate. She had once faced the Old Ogre without hesitation, undergone a Trial of Life and Death, and received a boon from the Elemental Sea. Nicole’s knight’s conviction began with her feelings for Victor; even now that her lover was the Raging Wind Sword Saint, it was impossible for her to feel distant. Nicole taking Lilia and the Elina sisters to count gold coins felt more like a gesture of consideration for their feelings, helping them dispel the sense of unfamiliarity with their husband.

The main issue was Lilia. The problem lay with Lilia.

Lilia was born into a mercenary company. Her parents died early, and she was raised by the company’s members. She and her brother, Narsen, lived a nomadic mercenary life, witnessing many familiar elders and friends lose their lives in battle. This led to a severe lack of security, making her especially dependent on her powerful older brother, and later, she entrusted herself completely to Victor.

Although Victor cherished Lilia dearly, he could also sense the unease and fear hidden deep within her heart. This, paradoxically, was the source of Lilia’s most astonishing power. As the gap between them widened, Lilia had been constantly redefining her own identity—from Victor’s little wife to Viscount Randell’s personal handmaiden, assistant, and most trusted steward. No one studied knowledge, honed their martial skills, practiced etiquette, and pursued beauty more diligently than she. She was like an insignificant but endlessly resilient weed, desperately absorbing nutrients and sunlight just to keep chasing Victor’s footsteps.

This was destined to be a futile effort. In terms of lifespan, youth, and power, an insurmountable chasm existed between Victor and Lilia. As an ordinary person, she also could not bear children for her husband. In truth, Victor hadn’t simply placed Lilia in the role of a little wife. He needed an assistant, and so he molded Lilia into a capable one, entrusting her with the power to manage the House of Randell.

Not all women would revolve around Victor. As a tiny manifestation of the Creator’s consciousness, it was inevitable that everyone would have their own thoughts.

His Highness Randell’s wife—Lilia was nearly in despair over this role. The power to govern hundreds of thousands of people, on the other hand, was something Lilia was completely dependent on Victor’s trust for.

Lilia was smart and extremely insecure, possessing a strong drive to grasp anything she could. When Victor and Narsen were far away in a foreign land, gone for three years on a campaign, what would she do?

Having grown accustomed to life and death partings, Lilia had given up on secret arts for preserving her beauty during those three years. She practiced the Gryphon Combat Technique with grueling diligence. The fear of losing everything transformed into immense mind power, and she actually managed to ignite the fire of the mind!

This was only part of Lilia’s plan for self-preservation.

Nicole was arrogant and harsh to her subordinates, but she knew how to respect the strong. Before, she had called Lilia her sister entirely on account of Victor and Narsen. Now that Lilia had ignited the fire of the mind, she had earned Nicole’s genuine recognition.

The clever Lilia had long ago transferred the authority of the Randell Fief’s Head Steward to Nicole. Once she gained the acknowledgment of My Lady Nicole, she then helped Nicole win over the three factions of the House of Randell: the War Bear Mercenaries; the village heads and vassal families; and the Magistrate’s Office and the merchants.

With even My Lady Lilia siding with Lord Phoenix, who in the House of Randell would dare to stick their neck out and say no?

Lilia became Nicole’s number one confidant. The helpless, unambitious Elina sisters were completely marginalized. Even Nicole’s steward had begun to interfere in the internal affairs of Silver Moon Manor.

Victor had to admit that his words no longer carried the same weight with those below. The village heads all watched Nicole’s expression before acting. They were old now, and the rules of the House of Randell dictated that positions were not hereditary. They had to consider the future of their children and grandchildren. If Victor’s orders conflicted with My Lady Nicole’s, they could only feign compliance and muddle through. Otherwise, what would happen if the master left for a few more years and My Lady Nicole decided to settle scores?

My Lady’s temper was not good; her fierce reputation was well-known, and she was the master’s beloved wife. Who would dare to slander My Lady Nicole in front of the master? Were they tired of living?

Since the master could no longer serve as a backer, siding with My Lady Nicole was the only way to ensure a good end.

Knock, knock, knock. A steady, unhurried knock came from the door. Victor reined in his scattered thoughts and said, “Come in.”

Tao De pushed the door open, strode into the room, and performed a one-knee kneel before Victor. Head bowed, he said respectfully, “My lord, you summoned me.”

He wore a simple brown casual outfit, his demeanor introverted and reserved. One could not tell at all that he was a senior apprentice knight who had ignited the fire of the mind, or the chief of spies with hands stained by blood. Nor did he fawn over the master with greetings like Village Head Moline; instead, he exuded a firm, natural obedience.

Victor was quite pleased with Tao De’s performance. He tapped the desk with his finger and asked, “Why didn’t you come to the Evening Banquet five days ago?”

“My Lady did not notify me.”

“And if she had?”

“I would have refused. Quicksilver obeys only the master’s commands.”

“Rise,” Victor nodded. His dark gold eyes stared at Tao De for a moment before he spoke thoughtfully, “I called you here for two matters. First, in a few days, I will be taking Shorty Glyn and his Potion Master assistant to Red Frost Tree Manor. You will come with me. I can see you’ve been practicing the Knight-path of the Mind Bloodline secret art. Stop… while the Vital Tenacity Talent can make you stronger, I have another secret art that might help you break through the barrier and become a true Knight.”

A monstrous wave crashed within Tao De’s heart, but he was convinced of his master’s extraordinary power and dared not lose his composure. He circulated his Aura with all his might to suppress his emotions and said in a deep voice, “Tao De is willing to die for Master!”

“I have the most fearless death commandos. I don’t need another one.”

Victor smiled faintly and continued, “Once we are at Red Frost Tree Manor, the York family’s spy chief will liaise with you to discuss intelligence cooperation. You must remember, Quicksilver is my Quicksilver, and it answers only to me. The funds Quicksilver needs will be provided directly by me. I will give you another one hundred thousand Gold Sols for expenses. A detailed list of all expenditures must be regularly submitted to the Liaison Officer at Quicksilver Manor for review.”

“I will obey your will,” Tao De said with a bow.

Victor paused, then added, “The second matter is this: Quicksilver’s main task from now on is to gather intelligence on privately minted currency. The scope is every place that Quicksilver can reach. In places where Quicksilver is not yet present, plant spies and develop inner and outer lines as quickly as possible.”

“Yes.”

“Good. You may go and make the arrangements.”

Tao De backed out of the room. From the rhythm of his footsteps, Victor could sense his palpable excitement, and the corners of his mouth couldn’t help but curl into a self-satisfied smile.

The village heads of the Randell Fief were no longer easy to command, but that was normal. Across all the human kingdoms, no Highness would bypass the head of a family to directly command a mere village head or town mayor, unless he was mad. Legendary powerhouses had complete minds; they could not go mad. Thus, in human history, there were few instances of a Highness giving orders that skipped levels of command to mortal vassals.

Information flowed slowly, and the organizational structure was vast. A family had to avoid multi-pronged management as much as possible to prevent its administration from descending into chaos and paralysis.

It didn’t matter that the village heads and magistrates of the Randell Fief wouldn’t listen to him. It was enough that Nicole listened to Victor.

When Victor was weak, he had braved danger and entered the forest to aid Nicole. It was only when Nicole saw Victor in peril that she shattered the barrier of reality law, communed with the Elemental Sea, and severed the Ogre’s head with a single strike. That sincere emotion came from the heart and was exceedingly precious. If he couldn’t even trust Nicole, then there was no one Victor could trust.

All along, Victor and Nicole had vastly different attitudes toward their vassals—Victor was tolerant, Nicole was strict. But in essence, it was a classic case of the wife following the husband’s lead, ruling with both grace and power.

A knight’s conviction to protect their family was, fundamentally, a way to gather the Creator’s pan-consciousness and reflect it back upon oneself. The heartfelt support of one’s subjects represented the favor of the Force of Destiny. A lord who was harsh, cruel, and merciless was destined for decline. One only had to look at the House of Sorim to know. The House of Auguste, by blockading trade, sending in refugees, and manufacturing internal division, had plunged the descendants of House Sorim into power struggles. The people in their domain lived in misery, and the public resentment that boiled over led to the decay of a thousand-year-old family bloodline.

Nicole had begun to change her style, treating the vassals and subjects of the House of Randell with kindness. This was a good thing. The support of the tens of thousands of people in the Randell Fief could help her assail the Elemental Sea and advance to Gold Knight. Only then could Nicole follow in her lover’s footsteps; only a Gold-rank female knight was worthy of the Raging Wind Sword Saint.

Had it been the unambitious Charlotte, upon hearing that Victor had achieved the Saint realm, she likely would have hastily advanced to Silver rank, squandering the opportunity to challenge the Elemental Sea.

Since Nicole could exercise such forbearance, what did it matter if Victor gave her the House of Randell? She was, after all, the woman he loved. Even if she advanced to Gold Knight, she would still be two realms beneath him. It wasn’t as if she could usurp his position.

Furthermore, Victor truly lacked the vigor to manage the House of Randell. Sylvia was not only his spouse, but she also expected Victor to succeed her as the Guardian of the York family. How could His Highness Randell win public support if he shamelessly favored the family he personally founded?

Victor was preparing to implement military Standardization in the Centaur Hills, and for that, he had to maintain a relatively impartial stance as a Guardian. If this matter wasn’t handled well, the strength of the House of Randell alone would be hard-pressed to cope with the changes to come.

Nicole pestered Victor for money because she understood her man. Even though Victor had never spoken to her about the Alchemy Tower, her heart was entirely devoted to her lover, which allowed her to see the whole picture from a single detail.

Victor could guess that Lilia, that little woman, was about to become fierce and stern. He was still gratified that Lilia had found her sense of belonging. As for the Elina sisters, it was their own fault for not striving harder; they deserved to be pushed around. Victor decided to leave the twin sisters at Silver Moon Manor to avoid undermining his trust in Nicole.

The Randell Earldom would serve as Fodder for Nicole’s advancement to Pinnacle Knight, but Victor also needed a private armed force that moved as an extension of his own will. He was now especially grateful to Sophia for decisively separating the Mountain folk strongholds. Otherwise, with over one hundred thousand mountain folk considered peripherals of The Golden Company, things would have been truly difficult for him.

The population base of the mountain folk was sufficient for Victor to cultivate Sourceblood Warriors and Mind Warriors, and the Alchemical militia permeating the grassroots of the mountain folk strongholds would ensure Victor could exert the most effective control over their armed forces.

All of this required ample financial support. Victor could not tolerate the act of privately minting currency, which would destroy his strategic adjustments. Therefore, besides tightening his grip on the Quicksilver spies to ensure he had intelligence superiority, he also had to separate the smuggling Caravan from the House of Randell’s chain of command.

“Someone, come.”

Reno, of the First Crouching Ox Militia, entered the study and asked, “My lord, what are your orders?”

Victor stood up and said, “Send someone to the Church in Laketon. Inform Father Dayn that I am preparing to visit him. Also, notify Lord Narsen to wait for me at Laketon Castle.”

Chapter 717: Damage Control Measures

“Is there really no way?”

The afternoon sun streamed through the latticed window into the living room in the Church’s rear courtyard. Mottled spots of light dappled the green brick floor, adding a touch of brightness to the simply furnished, small room and fostering a clean, simple, and bright atmosphere.

Victor sat at an oak table, gently swirling the ceramic cup in his hand. The water inside sloshed back and forth, forming a tiny whirlpool. He observed the phenomenon in the cup with great interest, a faint smile on his handsome face, looking for all the world like a gentle and curious handsome youth.

The description “gentle and curious” fit Victor’s character. His affinity for the void water element bloodline blessed him with a transcendent beauty and a patient, gentle personality, which was why he was so favored by high-ranking female knights. If he hadn’t possessed a keen sense of curiosity, he would never have become the great scholar so esteemed by the Silver Spire.

Father Dayn, a fifth-rank priest, sat at the other end of the table. Looking at the seemingly carefree Victor, he felt a cold sweat break out on the back of his neck.

He had known Victor for some years and considered him a close friend, but as a member of Pontiff Clement’s core faction who had received a secret missive from the Curia, he understood Victor’s other side all too well.

The gentle and chivalrous His Highness Randell could slay an Ogre Warlord as easily as slaughtering a chicken. The traces of his battle with the Centaur Great Khan stretched for more than two hundred kilometers, as if a hurricane had swept through, tearing the earth and leaving not a single blade of grass in its wake.

Of course, a clergyman did not need to fear His Highness Randell’s power, but the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s authority and prestige were not to be ignored. It was largely thanks to His Highness Randell’s help that Dayn had been promoted to High-ranked Priest before the age of fifty. If Victor were to write a letter to the Pontiff now, expressing his dissatisfaction with Dayn, many priests would be delighted to take over Dayn’s position in the Randell Diocese.

Dayn regretted that his earlier words had not been more tactful. But he was truly powerless to grant the small request the Raging Wind Sword Saint had made. With a bitter smile, he could only explain, “Your Highness, you know that the highest title a commoner can receive is a lordship. Lord Narsen is renowned and has performed outstanding military service, but he lacks a noble bloodline after all…”

Victor set down his ceramic cup, interrupting Dayn. “If it weren’t so troublesome, I wouldn’t have come to you. I am prepared to donate forty thousand Gold Sol to the Randell Diocese. What do you think?”

Dayn knew, of course, that the Earl wanted to forge a bloodline certificate for Lord Narsen. He pondered for a moment, then sighed. “Victor, I’ll be honest with you. This sort of thing is simple. All we’d have to do is assign a deceased Knight-Ranger as one of Lord Narsen’s blood relatives, and we could get his noble bloodline certificate immediately. However, Lord Narsen’s reputation precedes him, and he is a trusted vassal of the Raging Wind Sword Saint. With these two identities combined, he has already attracted the attention of many important figures. For example, Patriarch Tamor will definitely take an interest in the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s people. A small matter like this could become a major incident, damaging the House of Randell’s name and dignity…”

The priest paused, his expression turning serious. “If you insist, I will handle it for you. But my advice is that great trouble will follow.”

A famous person’s deeds, whether good or bad, are always magnified many times over. The greater the fame, the stronger the magnifying effect.

Dayn was being frank. He could do this favor, but his actions would never escape the notice of the Church’s upper echelons. Once Patriarch Tamor learned that Lord Narsen’s bloodline was forged, he would inevitably have a hand in it and then demand a favor from the Raging Wind Sword Saint.

If it were some small fry who needed a forged bloodline, His Highness Randell wouldn’t even need to show up in person and ask Dayn for help. He could just find a small, remote church and get the certificate with ease. But Victor’s attempt to forge a bloodline certificate for Narsen would inevitably alert a Patriarch of the Holy See—and not just one. If Tamor could intervene, what reason would Flidis have to turn a blind eye? When all was said and done, Father Dayn would be the one to suffer, and it might even implicate Pontiff Clement.

Risking the involvement of three Patriarchs for a single barony was simply not worth it.

Victor didn’t want to sacrifice Father Dayn, either. He was, after all, an agent Victor had high hopes for.

“Is there any other way?”

Dayn finally breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that his decisive stance had won the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s approval. He thought for a moment and said, “Every diocese has a file on Lord Narsen, so making him a Baron is likely impossible. His other three wives, however, are noblewomen. Their children with Lord Narsen could be granted a barony. That would be equivalent to Lord Narsen controlling a barony.”

Victor was silent for a moment, then asked, “What about Narsen’s twin sons with Lady Linda?”

Dayn gave a dry laugh and sighed. “Lord Narsen’s wife is an Inspector for the House of Randell… every diocese has her records. Arranging a noble relative for her would be no different from doing it for the lord himself. The Church only needs to verify their bloodline to expose the lie…”

Victor finally gave up. He stood up and nodded. “Alright, we’ll set this matter aside for now… In any case, I thank you. I’ll take my leave.”

“Your Highness, you are too kind.” A humble smile appeared on Dayn’s face as he also stood and escorted Victor all the way to the carriage waiting outside the Church.

The carriage stopped by the side of the road near Laketon Castle. Too lazy to get down himself, Victor ordered a guard to fetch Narsen from the castle.

“My lord, you were looking for me.” Narsen ducked into the carriage and sat down opposite Victor.

He was dressed in hide armor made from the skin of a golden centaur, holding his helmet in his hands. His thick, short hair stood on end. His features were resolute, his muscles lean and solid, and his entire body radiated a tangible sense of power.

“What, are you off to war?” Victor glanced at him and chided in annoyance, “Spend more time with your wives and produce some heirs with noble bloodlines.”

Narsen was completely bewildered, not understanding why his master was angry. He scratched his head and answered truthfully, “I’ve been wondering about that myself. Ever since Linda gave me two sons, none of the four women’s bellies have shown any signs. I’ve been working very hard, but they still complain about me every day and make me drink all sorts of strange potions.”

His expression was one of confusion and even some frustration, but not a hint of urgency.

The power of his mind has already begun to interfere with his inner potential, Victor observed Narsen, thinking to himself.

It was no accident that Narsen had reached his current level of life. In truth, ever since he’d had his twin sons, he had lost all interest in having more children. Although he had not yet constructed a Talent Tree, his subconscious was entirely focused on increasing his own power, and his fertility had automatically been suppressed, though he himself was unaware of it.

The pure and immense power of his mind, stemming from his heart’s desire, directly influenced Narsen’s Life’s Inner Potential. Forget the potions Linda and the others had found; not even old Miller could help him with his divine arts. Victor, of course, had no good solution either. Only when Narsen mastered the Touch of the Mind would his mind be at ease, and the problem of his infertility might then be resolved.

Victor shook his head and sighed, changing the subject. “I was originally planning to grant you investiture as my vassal Baron, but you don’t have a noble bloodline, and Joanna and the others haven’t borne you any children, so it seems that won’t be possible…”

“My lord, what does it matter? A lordship is good enough,” Narsen said with a grin, finally understanding. His eyes were as firm as bedrock, without a flicker of emotion, showing that he was being sincere.

Victor smiled and nodded. “You have fought by my side and earned great merit; you should be rewarded. How about this: I will grant your younger son a lordship with thirty square kilometers of land. As for your eldest son, he will be the first in line to inherit the lordship, so he needs no further reward. In the future, when the two brothers perform great deeds, I will grant them more land.”

Narsen was taken aback. He felt it was a good thing, but he wasn’t particularly thrilled. He said out of habit, “I will follow my lord’s arrangement.”

What Victor was granting him was land, not a fief, and there was a fundamental difference between the two. A fief was a contiguous territory where one could build a castle, exercise dominion, and recruit vassals. Allotted land, on the other hand, might be a farmstead here and a patch of terraced fields there. While still a fief in name, it lacked the potential for consolidation, and its administrative rights could only be delegated to the liege lord, who would dispatch tenant households to work the land. This essentially made the title-holder a great landowner with a lordship.

From now on, this practice of granting nominal noble titles but de facto landholdings would become more and more common, gradually forming a class of noble landowners.

Compared to feudal lords, noble landowners had their own advantages. For example, a lord’s fief was capped at a maximum of three hundred square kilometers, but there was no upper limit on allotted land for a noble. As long as a nominal noble had the ability to achieve great deeds, the land he acquired could exceed the limits of his title.

Of course, a liege lord couldn’t grant all his land to nominal nobles; he could also repay merit by elevating their titles.

Under the current system, a lordship did not make one a true noble. Barons and Viscounts were lower nobility, while Earls and above were higher nobility.

Victor was an Earl with a hereditary fief, giving him the authority to grant investiture to lords, Barons, and Viscounts. The purpose of elevating Narsen’s rank was to give him official status to enter the core of the House of Randell’s power, so he wouldn’t be overshadowed by Nicole.

Narsen was naturally straightforward and utterly loyal to Victor. As the top fighting force for the House of Randell, Victor needed him to remain in the Randell Fief to keep things under control, which meant he couldn’t bring him along on his campaigns.

It was precisely because of Narsen’s one-track mind that if he worked with Nicole, conflicts would inevitably arise over time. This wasn’t something that depended on their personal wills, but rather on where people’s loyalties lay.

Nicole had the authority to grant lordships. With a carrot in one hand and a stick in the other, everyone had to curry favor with her. Narsen had nothing, and on top of that, he was stubborn. If official business didn’t go smoothly, he would go find someone to argue with. Once or twice, Nicole might tolerate it, but if it happened too often, she would inevitably retaliate.

Narsen had followed Victor through campaigns in the south and north and was himself just one step away from Gold rank. Never mind that Nicole was currently only a senior knight; even if she ascended to Gold rank, she could never hope to subdue the Bear of the Northlands.

Victor didn’t want to see his lover and his number one confidant in conflict, but the most important reason was the War Bear Mercenaries who managed the smuggling caravans. Now that Narsen was back, they had their pillar of support again. But if even Narsen was unreliable, they would likely defect to My Lady Nicole for the sake of their children’s futures.

“You’ve been back for half a month. Have you heard anything?” Victor conjured a gust of air that stirred the small bell outside the carriage, signaling the driver to urge the draft horses onward, out of the city.

“I haven’t heard anything,” Narsen said, looking completely blank.

Linda must have told him a lot of things. This guy just truly hasn’t thought about any of it… Victor complained internally. He knew there was no point beating around the bush with Narsen, so he said directly, “You will only be in charge of the First Legion. You are not to interfere in the affairs of the other legions. Iron Hammer, Fermi… all the War Bear Mercenaries who manage the smuggling caravans will be incorporated into the First Legion’s sequence. I will transfer their allotted lands to the name of your and Linda’s youngest son. From now on, the families of the War Bear Mercenaries will be considered vassals of the young lord.”

“As you command, my lord,” Narsen said in a deep voice, pressing his fist to his chest.

Victor’s gaze shifted to the window, watching the shaded trees by the roadside retreat. After a moment, he spoke again, “This time in the Theocracy of Ayr, Pontiff Clement and I discussed the problem of the Wildmen… If a Wizard appears among the Wildmen in a mountain stronghold, the lord and the Inquisition will join forces to slaughter the entire stronghold, leaving no one alive. If the stronghold has no connection with the fief, the lord can also dispatch troops to annihilate it, and the Church will not intervene.”

“This is because when a Wizard appears among the Wildmen, even if he dies of old age, the evil faith he started will continue to poison the entire stronghold,” Victor paused, then continued, “We haven’t discovered any young wizards in the strongholds we control yet, but the Pontiff reminded me that the strongholds must maintain contact with nearby lords. Otherwise, the lords have the right to send troops to destroy them. To avoid conflict, our smuggling caravans must continue to distribute profits to the remote lords, even though the Golden Company is preparing to abandon those remote and difficult smuggling routes.”

Narsen stared at Victor and asked haltingly, “My lord, do you mean… we’re giving up all our mountain folk strongholds, giving them back to those country bumpkin lords?”

“Why would we give them up?” Victor gave a silent smile. “When those country bumpkin lords trade with the mountain strongholds, they’re just exploiting them for some mountain goods and don’t make much profit. It’s our smuggling caravans that transport the mountain goods to the Black Markets in the big towns, bringing wealth like gold coins, potions, and Adamantine back to those minor lords. They know someone is smuggling goods through the strongholds but have been turning a deaf ear, even letting their vassal village heads trade with us. This is also because they don’t have the ability to investigate our background, and they don’t want to cut off their stream of revenue. However, if those remote trade routes don’t earn much money in the future, I’m afraid they’ll turn hostile.”

A fierce glint appeared in Narsen’s eyes. He said in a low voice, “Then we’ll show them what we’re made of!”

“You think they’ll attack the strongholds?” Victor scoffed and shook his head. “Most of those remote families are impoverished lords and barons. Even their own liege lords can’t be bothered with them. On what grounds would they attack my strongholds? Tipping off their liege lord is the only countermeasure they can take. Unfortunately for them, the Golden Company will soon come out of the shadows. I don’t even need to care if our involvement with the Golden Company is exposed.”

Victor changed the subject again. “I’ve put a lot of effort into these strongholds, I can’t just abandon them. We need to think of another path to wealth… Since the resources of the mountains are limited, let’s get the country bumpkin lords to join in, using their land and manpower to open up new sources of revenue. From now on, the smuggling caravans need to find a way to make direct contact with those minor lords and persuade them to grow cash crops according to my requirements, or to build workshops to produce goods I specify. I still need some time to consider the specific strategy, but I already have the people to implement it: your adopted son and daughter, Paul and Maelyn.”

Narsen nodded and said in a gruff voice, “Linda hasn’t seen them in a long time. She was just asking me about them.”

Victor glanced at him and said leisurely, “Next January, you will come with me to Red Frost Tree Manor for a while. You’ll be able to see them then.”

Narsen’s eyes instantly lit up. “My lord,” he asked joyfully, “have you prepared a Mind Bloodline secret art for me?”

Victor smiled and nodded. “I’m still figuring it out. I plan to gather a few more useful helpers… Don’t worry, I will definitely formulate a secret art for you and help you construct a Talent Tree that suits your character.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Narsen asked eagerly.

“We’ll talk about it when the time comes.” Victor waved his hand, then instructed, “Go back and gather Iron Hammer and the others and relay my orders. All mountain folk strongholds are to begin surveying for nearby ore veins. I will dispatch craftsmen and beast tamers, and transport a batch of dromedaries over to prepare for mining.”

“As you wish, my lord… Where are we going now?”

Victor looked at the scenery outside the window, a playful smile gracing his lips. “To settle accounts with dwarf Glyn. I heard he killed the Barbarian captives His Highness Andre gave me… I hope his research results can satisfy me.”

Chapter 718: Secret Fortress

The carriage left Laketon and turned onto a westbound road. At first, the tree-lined path was wide and flat, but it grew narrower the farther they went. Branches on the right side of the road constantly scraped against the carriage, making a rustling sound. Yet the coachman, abiding by the rules of the road in Randell Fief, kept to the right side, not once encroaching on the left lane, even though the passenger within was the master of this fief, the noble Earl Randell himself.

A public carriage pulled by two bullocks approached from the opposite direction. The driver was a man of keen eyesight; he stopped his carriage, hopped down from his seat, and doffed his hat in salute to the nobleman’s carriage. The passengers in the slatted compartment wondered why the public carriage had stopped. When they saw the noble’s carriage surrounded by more than a dozen Swiftbird light cavalry, they immediately understood that someone of great importance was passing by. One by one, they rose and bowed toward the right side of the road.

Victor’s carriage continued west along the tree-lined road. They encountered no more public carriages, and even farmers heading home from the fields and two-wheeled freight carts became scarce. The carriage ventured into increasingly remote territory. The farmland on either side of the road gave way to hilly pastures, and eventually, even the pastures disappeared from view.

At dusk, the carriage reached the end of the tree-lined road and entered an outpost constructed of logs and green bricks.

It served as a dividing point between the western wilderness of Randell Fief and its eastern administrative district. As the irrigation system did not cover the entire territory, the land west of this point was the undeveloped wilderness of Randell Fief. It was a place seldom traversed by people, with only a few gathering points for rangers, lumberjacks, and shepherds scattered around dozens of stream reservoirs.

There was no road beyond this outpost. Victor ordered his attendants to remain behind while he, Narsen, Charlotte, and six Griffin Militia troopers mounted Swiftbirds and continued westward.

In a world inhabited by monsters, the wilderness meant danger and operated under the Dark Forest Law. Although Victor now controlled the entirety of Randell Fief, with his sphere of influence extending to the southern Larkspur Mountains and parts of the Great Lizard Marsh—a total area approaching thirty thousand square kilometers—he still followed the common rules of lords, forbidding the populace from illegally entering the wilderness. Anyone caught could be dealt with as a bandit.

Typically, a “bandit” who trespassed on a lord’s wilderness could be sentenced to a maximum of three years of hard labor. For those “bandits” who weren’t caught, there were two other potential fates: they were either killed on the spot while resisting capture, or they successfully escaped only to be devoured by monsters, ending up as a pile of indistinguishable excrement.

In short, “bandits” who trespassed on a lord’s wilderness often went missing or were “disappeared.” Even those sentenced to hard labor could die from all sorts of “accidents.”

Stories of dire wolves had long circulated in the western wilderness of Randell Fief. Honest and decent folk would not risk their lives to wander in foolishly. But there were always those with ill intentions who were not afraid of death, hoping to find something in the wilderness. And then, they would disappear.

With alchemical crows acting as eyes in the sky and Alchemical Warhounds and Alchemical militia patrolling the ground, even a common Knight would be no match for these defenders. Only a Silver-rank Great Knight could escape with their life. However, one only had to look at Narsen to understand the situation. Ever since the Golden Dawn Sparrow Earl was ambushed and perished, the Bear of the Northlands had been placed on the Church’s silver-bordered list. He was afforded the same treatment as a Silver Knight, required to report his movements to the Church whenever he traveled.

The spies sent by the various major powers could only be ordinary people or secret art death commandos. The Alchemical militia had captured several of them alive in the wilderness. They were drugged with hallucinogenic potions until they became imbeciles, then sent to Dwarf Glyn as experimental subjects.

Dwarf Glyn’s Potion-making secret fortress was built in a remote area in the western part of Randell Fief, near the Larkspur Mountains. It looked like an ordinary ranger’s stop, with a log fence and several watchtowers enclosing a small stream reservoir. Beside it stood a small wooden cabin, barracks, a warehouse, and a three-story villa made of green brick.

Initially, Victor, Sylvia, and Tofwen had discussed and decided to prioritize the development of the Knight-path of the Mind Bloodline secret art, concentrating their efforts on improving the mind potion “Knight’s Despair” and concocting the “Dawn” potion. As for the common path of the Mind Bloodline secret art, it was to remain at a rudimentary level, and all research into Source Power was to be abandoned. In exchange, Dwarf Glyn, the Potion-making Master, was dispatched from Aerie Fortress to Randell Fief to specifically develop a mind potion that could substitute for Source Power, allowing primary-level Mind Warriors to reach an intermediate level of proficiency.

This secret fortress was a joint venture between the Auguste family and the York family. Both parties sent Potion Masters and apprentices to assist Dwarf Glyn, sharing resources and results. Since the House of Randell lacked any respectable Potion Masters, they could only provide the location and supply the secret fortress with daily necessities.

In reality, the Mental Potion-making secret fortress built in Randell Fief was more like a product of Tofwen’s and Sylvia’s efforts to appease Victor. On one hand, the political systems of the human kingdoms were not prepared to accommodate high-rank Mind Warriors; on the other, Source Power currently existed only as a concept in Victor’s hypothetical deductions. If ordinary people truly possessed so-called Source Power, the Church would have discovered it long ago, yet no one had ever heard of anything similar.

If His Highness Randell wanted to pursue this, then let him. The House of Auguste ought to satisfy the small requests of the Protector of the Kingdom. Sylvia’s thinking was more pragmatic: it would be best if progress could be made on different schools of mind secret potions, but it didn’t matter if there wasn’t. The key was to use this collaboration to have the York family’s Potion Masters learn from Dwarf Glyn, thereby enhancing the family’s resources and heritage in Potion-making.

Victor was indeed far too busy, with no time at all to inquire about the specific affairs of the potion secret fortress. The research projects at the fortress had completely slipped from his control. Nicole would come to check on things from time to time, but she had no say whatsoever in the Potion-making research and could only copy the fortress’s research records.

Victor had reviewed the records Nicole provided and found them to be a mess of improved formulas completely unrelated to Mental Potion-making. That Barbarian prisoner had even been killed by Dwarf Glyn.

He was staging a surprise visit this time, intending to properly whip Dwarf Glyn and those hot-headed Potion Masters into shape. He needed to make them understand that this was a secret fortress in service of His Highness Randell, not some laid-back potion academy.

Narsen was in charge of intimidating them. The man had a rather fierce stare.

The Alchemical militia serving as scouts for the secret fortress would not obstruct their master. By the time Victor stormed through the secret fortress’s main gate, the secret knights from Aerie Fortress and Rose Manor had only just reacted. Seeing that the uninvited guest was none other than His Highness Randell, they hurried forward to pay their respects and stopped the guards from sounding the alarm bell.

However, Victor’s attention was captivated by a person in the small square, and he did not respond to the greetings of the two senior knights.

Four burly guards were escorting a young prisoner toward a hanging cage forged from refined iron, intending to put him inside and then hoist him up.

The hanging cage was a cruel instrument of torture, tormenting the prisoner’s body and mind. It was specifically used against enemies, meaning cage punishment fell within the scope of a family’s private justice. A lord would capture a hated enemy, confine them in a narrow iron cage, and display them publicly to the members of his house. The prisoner could neither stand up nor lie down inside the cage, forced to curl up for all to see.

Due to the semi-open nature of the iron cage, the prisoner and those outside could interact, but he had no privacy. The contrast between his state and theirs would inflict immense psychological damage, which in turn magnified the physical torment, making the prisoner in the cage wish for death.

A lord would generally permit onlookers to pity the prisoner, offering him a little food and water; they would also permit people to humiliate the prisoner, even beat him with wooden sticks through the bars of the cage. As long as he wasn’t killed, the lord would not intervene with what the crowd did to the prisoner in the cage. The pity of the kind and the humiliation and abuse of the malicious would only make the prisoner feel like an animal, not a human. Compared to having one’s dignity shredded and suffering both physical and mental torment, the most terrifying thing was the indifference of the onlookers. When people lost interest in the caged prisoner, he could only freeze and starve to death in despair, his tormented and twisted corpse still trapped in the cage, suspended high in the air, a chilling sight for any who looked upon it.

The Church strictly forbade cage punishment. Victor had heard of it, but had never seen it. In truth, true Knight-lords were not psychologically unhinged sadists. Only those weak families in the Eastern Alliance, devoid of any sense of honor, would employ such an utterly inhumane form of punishment.

The prisoner before him had an ordinary appearance. His body was thin and weak, his pale skin devoid of color, the blue veins on his arms clearly visible. His boyish face looked as if he had just reached adulthood. The tall, strong guards made his expression a little timid, but he obediently climbed into the iron cage, even pulling the cage door shut himself, then sat in a corner hugging his knees.

Most people, upon seeing an instrument of torture like an iron cage, would inevitably struggle with all their might, and the guards would have to exert some effort to stuff the prisoner inside. Even if this young man had never heard of the terrifying cage punishment, in his thin clothes, it was impossible for him to survive the cold night.

Victor jutted his chin toward the cage and asked, “What is the meaning of this?”

The two senior knights looked at each other. Kaiwen, a secret knight from Aerie Fortress’s Household Department, spoke respectfully, “Your Highness, that is Willie, a death row inmate sent over a month ago. He killed at least forty-seven people in the Northern Prefecture…”

“That ferocious?” Narsen rubbed the stubble on his chin, sizing up the prisoner in the cage with interest. He frowned and said, “He doesn’t look it. He’s clearly just an ordinary person… even weaker than one.”

“Lord Narsen, there’s something you don’t know,” said Vaughn, a secret knight from Rose Manor. “Willie is fairly normal during the day, but at night, he becomes a demon—immensely strong, agile, and with a bloodthirsty nature. It’s said that in the Northern Prefecture, he single-handedly killed eleven soldiers who were pursuing him in one night, including an apprentice knight. In the end, Minsk Fortress had to dispatch a full Knight to capture him.”

“Your Highness, we have already tested him,” Vaughn turned to Victor and explained. “After the sun sets, Willie’s transformation is astonishing. Even a Secret Art Guard from Rose Manor is no match for him. The Master Glyn suspects he is a Wizard and has not used him for any potion experiments. At night, we lock him in the cage. When the sun rises the next day, Willie returns to normal and can even remember what happened during the night.”

A glint flashed in Victor’s eyes. He retorted, “If he were a Wizard, Aerie Fortress would not have sent him here to be an experimental subject. Is he a Wizard?”

“…He certainly looks like a Wizard at night.”

Kaiwen the Knight looked back at the cage and added, “The Inquisition priests in the Northern Prefecture have already assessed him. Willie is not a Wizard… The villagers he persecuted all call him the ‘Night Fiend.’ In truth, he’s a madman.”

The sun was setting in the west, and the dimming sky was tinged with a hazy purple. A cold wind blew into the iron cage, seeping into prisoner Willie’s body. He pulled his thin clothes tighter around himself but remained deathly silent.

Victor blinked, deactivating his wind element Insight. He had already confirmed that Willie was just an ordinary, physically frail person. What, then, was causing such a drastic transformation in his body and mind, one that required a full knight to capture him?

“Get him out of that cage. I want to see what this ‘Night Fiend’ is like,” His Highness Randell commanded, his voice level, his eyes shimmering with a golden light.

Chapter 719: Night Fiend

His Highness Randall’s order was carried out immediately. A Secret Art Guard from Rose Manor reached into the cage to drag out the prisoner, Willie, but was met with fierce resistance.

“No! I’m begging you, lock the cage tight, don’t let that demon out…” Willie wailed, his other hand gripping the iron bars of the cage so tightly that his knuckles turned white and the veins on his arm bulged.

The Secret Art Guard was much stronger than an ordinary man, but fearing he would break the prisoner’s arm, he signaled his companion to pry Willie’s fingers open from the other side. With a sudden burst of strength, he yanked the man clean out of the cage.

“I want to go back, let me go back, I want to go back…” As soon as Willie recovered from his dizziness, he cried out and struggled toward the cage. The Secret Art Guard, a head taller than him, had to wrap a brawny arm around his neck and hiss viciously.

“Behave yourself, kid! If you act up again, I’ll twist your head off!”

Willie was clearly intimidated by the guard’s ferocious demeanor. His expression turned to one of terror and unease, and after the guard released him, he curled up on the ground, trembling uncontrollably.

“Cowardly, weak… but he doesn’t seem like a madman,” Narsen said, shaking his head with a frown. “And he doesn’t have that scent of bloody slaughter on him.”

Lords usually entrusted the task of stamping out bandits to freemen mercenary companies. Narsen had been a mercenary himself. While it was an exaggeration to say he’d killed men like they were flies, he did have over a hundred lives on his hands, which made him particularly sensitive to those of his kind with blood on their hands. Aerie Fortress’s secret knights claimed Willie had brutally murdered dozens of innocent people, yet Narsen felt nothing of the sort from the weak young man before him.

Victor did not see Narsen and Willie as the same kind. Narsen’s brutal killings were meant to intimidate enemies; once they lost the will to resist, he would stop. As for Willie, according to the two secret knights, he was more like a patient with multiple personality disorder from Earth—one consciousness was weak and timid, hating its other self, while the “Night Fiend” consciousness took pleasure in torturing and killing innocent lives.

However, humans in the Taelon World possessed souls, and consciousness fell under the domain of the Will Side, an important component of the soul. Imoson the Wizard had once told Victor that his Wizardry could infect the souls of non-sapient animals, stripping them of their independent will and causing the phenomenon of Life Aberration. This meant that if something went wrong with the Will Side, non-sapient life would mutate, while sapient life might weaken and die.

Back when the little Baron was ambushed by a mysterious Wizard in Black Fortress Town, his Soul Fire would have been extinguished within days if Victor’s consciousness fragment hadn’t managed to stabilize the collapse of his Will Side in time.

Therefore, “multiple personalities” in the Taelon World should be called “dual souls,” and Willie was an extremely rare case.

Victor did not yet know what caused this special case, and the specific situation remained to be seen, but he believed that the secret knights of Aerie Fortress and Rose Manor would not dare to deceive him.

The sun sank between the hills, and the shadows of the secret fortress’s buildings stretched longer. The fortress guards backed away from Willie, while the others formed a circle, enclosing him in the center. Judging by the Secret Art Guards’ cautious and alert postures, Willie clearly posed a considerable threat to them.

As the last rays of sunset vanished from the horizon, night fell as expected. The fortress guards lit lamps and braziers one by one, dispelling the darkness that shrouded the camp. In the flickering firelight, Willie was on his hands and knees, his thin body trembling ceaselessly. He no longer looked pitiable, but rather exuded an air of mania. The Secret Art Guards surrounding him all tensed their muscles, their gazes fixed, like beasts ready to pounce at any moment.

At this moment, their minds were highly focused; they had entered a state of combat readiness.

“Interesting.”

Victor chuckled softly and turned to Narsen. “A mere mortal actually possesses the Touch of the Mind. This is worth looking forward to… Tone it down a notch. Don’t scare him so much he doesn’t dare to move.”

The Touch of the Mind itself wasn’t miraculous; any creature with the power of the mind possessed this ability. A peerless beauty smiles back at you, casting her charm upon you, making your heart surge, unable to control your emotions, and you begin to pursue her passionately. A rival, burning with jealousy, provokes you with words, causing you to fly into a rage and brawl with them. Or perhaps your child is misbehaving; you unbuckle your belt and stare at him with a serious expression, and he immediately behaves.

Love at first sight and flying into a towering rage were probably the most common manifestations of the Touch of the Mind, almost like a human instinct. More advanced manifestations included a musician composing a sad melody that, upon hearing it, immerses people in an atmosphere of sorrow without them even realizing it; or a painter creating a lifelike tiger that startles all who see it.

The essence of the Touch of the Mind was to transmit one’s will to influence a target’s emotions. It was a skill that existed somewhere between passive and active, much like breathing. A person could hold their breath, but they couldn’t stop breathing unless they were dead and their own mind had ceased to function.

A mortal’s Touch of the Mind was nothing to write home about. Only when a person mastered an active Touch of the Mind, able to communicate with the world, could they be called extraordinary.

The Touch of the Mind had different levels and manifested in diverse ways. There was a pig butcher in Laketon who, upon entering a pigsty, would render all the pigs immobile. Although Willie was spreading an aura of fear, his Touch of the Mind was a level below the pig butcher’s. However, the targets of his will were humans, and the men surrounding him were Secret Art Guards who did not lack for courage.

The cautious posture of the Secret Art Guards reminded Victor of a term:

Natural enemy.

Willie, or rather, the Night Fiend, was like a natural enemy to humans. The Secret Art Guards were on alert against a monster!

To satisfy his master’s curiosity, Narsen averted his almost tangible, burning gaze from Willie, looking away with a sheepish expression. His mind was still a step away from Caligula’s level and was in a state of extremely strong presence; an ordinary person would feel uneasy just being stared at by him. With such a man eyeing him like a tiger, Victor had his doubts whether the Night Fiend Willie could even get up off the ground.

Beasts avoid conflict by averting their gaze. Humans are beasts, too.

Narsen looked up at the sky for a long while. In that time, Willie underwent another startling change. The whimpers in his throat combined with his frenzied trembling and turned into a strange, cackling laugh. Clearly defined veins surfaced on his pale skin like terrifying totemic tattoos. His hands, covering his face, turned a dark red from the engorged blood, and his fingernails all became a bizarre shade of purple, like the claws of a demon. He rose from the ground, his body hunched, knees bent and ready to spring at any moment. He raised his hands and tore off his thin clothing, revealing a gaunt body covered in blue-black patterns. The moment he lifted his head, his originally brown eyes were now greenish-blue. His entire being radiated madness, cunning, cruelty, and hunger.

“All of you, stand down.”

Victor, wanting to see what the Night Fiend Willie was capable of, ordered the surrounding Secret Art Guards back. He turned to a Griffin Militiaman beside him and instructed, “You go subdue him. Don’t hurt him, and don’t let him hurt you.”

This Griffin Militiaman had been by Victor’s side for nearly three years. He understood his master’s intent, but his style was still rather rigid. He disdained tricks like verbal probing. His feet slid across the ground as he lunged forward, his thick-boned hand shooting out to grab Willie’s thin shoulder.

Doesn’t he fear the Night Fiend? Willie—or rather, the Night Fiend—was a little dumbfounded. Usually, his prey would be seized by fear upon seeing him, soiling themselves and becoming too weak to move, completely at his mercy. Even slightly stronger enemies would be terrified, cautiously on guard, afraid to attack rashly. The longer the standoff, the more fearful they would become, unable to use even half of their strength, ultimately meeting their deaths.

This time, the Night Fiend had barely taken control of the body and wasn’t fully prepared when a powerful opponent charged straight at him.

The alchemical creature was but a tiny avatar of the Alchemy Tower, its soul nearly immortal and indestructible, possessing no instinct for fear. Even Tournans could only twist its senses, not intimidate it.

The Night Fiend’s use of the power of the mind was extreme and crude, a far cry from the First Sacred Warrior. But when he saw a faint rumble of thunder and wind in the enemy’s swinging arm and felt a suffocating sense of power rush toward him, he instinctively sprang away. He let out a sharp cry and dodged the Griffin Militiaman’s grab, his dark red hands clawing at the enemy’s arm, tearing viciously.

Screeeech!

The Griffin Militiaman’s arm was unarmored. The Night Fiend tore through his sleeve and skin, drawing blood. His Physique attribute was as high as eighteen; his body was incredibly tough. When his muscles were tensed, an ordinary person hacking at his arm with an ax would only leave a white mark.

Yet the Night Fiend had managed to leave five bleeding scratches on the Griffin Militiaman’s body with his bare hands!

However, the level-three Gryphon Militiaman also had a Perception attribute of seventeen. He twisted his wrist and precisely caught the Night Fiend’s arm. Just as he was about to use a restraining technique to lock his target down, the Night Fiend shrieked, his other hand lashing out toward the militiaman’s eyes like lightning.

As the Griffin Militiaman blocked the blow, the Night Fiend’s gaunt body leaped into the air. He kicked horizontally against his enemy’s chestplate, using the rebound to twist his arm and break free from the militiaman’s grasp, darting away.

In that split second, the Night Fiend’s entire sequence of wounding the enemy and saving himself was executed in one smooth motion, without a single pause for thought. Moreover, his power generation was completely natural, the transition between his inner potential and external force was almost seamless, and his posture and movements constantly maintained the perfect output of power.

This was combat intuition!

Victor estimated that the Night Fiend Willie’s agility was roughly on par with a Lithe Ape militiaman, his Perception attribute was no less than fifteen, and his strength was slightly greater, at the level of a silverback gorilla from Earth. Of course, his most terrifying trait was his sharp combat intuition.

A warrior honed their martial skills to make their combat awareness as close to instinct as possible, channeling power through their entire body with every attack or defense. Even an apprentice knight, whose strength and agility far surpassed an ordinary warrior’s, had to practice their martial skills diligently to fully utilize their combat power.

A person with combat intuition didn’t need to practice martial skills; they were born knowing how to fight. When a highly skilled apprentice knight a met such an opponent, it was like a wild bison facing a tiger; greater strength and speed didn’t guarantee victory. Unless the apprentice knight’s physical attributes completely overwhelmed their opponent, they would most likely be defeated or, at best, it would end with both sides suffering heavy losses.

The Night Fiend’s physical attributes were on the level of a Lithe Ape militiaman, so he certainly couldn’t be overwhelmed by an apprentice knight. It was no surprise to Victor that he could kill the apprentice knights who had been hunting him.

Unfortunately for him, the Lithe Ape militiaman’s elemental attributes were no match for a level-three Gryphon Militiaman. However, the Gryphon Militiaman, equipped with the Gray Wolf Combat Technique, was restricted by the technique’s inherent limitations with every move. Combined with his master’s orders to protect himself while capturing the enemy, his pursuit seemed constrained, causing him to miss several opportunities to subdue the Night Fiend.

In contrast, the Night Fiend, sensing his opponent’s weakness, adopted a suicidal fighting style to keep the Gryphon Militiaman occupied. But his strength and speed were completely crushed by his opponent; his attacks were ineffective, and he couldn’t escape. He looked insane, but he was actually at a disadvantage the entire time.

The two went back and forth, and for a time, no clear winner emerged. The commotion of the fierce battle finally drew Dwarf Glyn out of the green brick villa.

“Did you idiots forget to lock the cage and let the madman out again?!”

The big-headed dwarf, reeking of alcohol and flanked by several Potion Masters, ran outside and shouted arrogantly. Suddenly, he saw Victor. His嚣张的气焰立刻无影无踪, and he tried to hide behind someone else.

Victor’s dark gold eyes swept over, pinning the dwarf in place. He then returned his attention to the fight between the Night Fiend and the Griffin Militiaman.

Thirty minutes later, the Night Fiend’s stamina had clearly waned. He stumbled, and the still-vigorous Griffin Militiaman seized him by the neck, pressing him to the ground. He flopped like a dying fish, unable to move, yet his green eyes still blazed with ferocity.

Victor summoned his wind element to use Insight on the Night Fiend’s physical and mental state, but it had no effect. Continuous Insight required the target to open up their body and mind in cooperation, and the Night Fiend’s nearly-maniacal killing intent was still too strong. Sensing this, Victor gave up the idea of interrogating him personally. It would take a long time and invite provocation and deceit from Willie the Night Fiend.

“Narsen, take him down and interrogate him about whatever you’re interested in. Just don’t kill or cripple him.”

“My lord, rest assured! Leave the interrogation to me, it’ll be done right!” Narsen slapped his chest in guarantee, then went over and dislocated the Night Fiend Willie’s shoulder and hip joints before dragging him towards a small wooden hut.

“The rest of you, dismissed.” Victor waved away the Potion Masters from Aerie Fortress and Rose Manor, sent the Secret Art Guards on patrol, and beckoned to the wise gnome of the Faceless. “You, come here.”

As a top-tier Potion Master, Dwarf Glyn still had some backbone. He walked over reluctantly, sputtering, “You can’t hit me!”

Hearing this, Charlotte, wearing her adamantine mask, couldn’t help but cover her mouth and giggle lightly.

Dwarf Glyn had a strange body, an ugly face, and a terrible temper, but his mind was as simple as a child’s. At over thirty years old, he was still afraid of being beaten. It seemed the old wizard Tofwen had disciplined him quite a bit.

“So you do know you did something wrong,” Victor scolded with a cold face. “Tell me, what have you been doing for the past two years?”

“I… improved many potion formulas,” Glyn said, sticking his neck out, even though he didn’t really have one.

“Improved formulas? Ha! You ‘improved’ the Strength Potion, raising its production cost from forty Silver Sol to two Gold Sol? And the ‘improved’ Beauty Potion formula uses fluorescent moth wing powder as its main ingredient. Is that a Beauty Potion or a lust potion?” Victor jeered. “I’ve looked at all the ‘improved’ potion formulas you’ve produced. They didn’t need improving in the first place, and the more you ‘improved’ them, the worse their quality became… Do you even know what potion quality is? Effect, toxicity, and raw materials—these three factors are all indispensable! And to think you’re Master Tofwen’s most prized disciple, hailed as Aerie Fortress’s most outstanding Potion Master. You don’t even understand this?”

Glyn would rather take a beating than tolerate someone questioning his skill in Potion-making. His eyes widened, and he stomped his feet, shouting, “What do you know? Potion improvement requires inspiration from failure! No potion is perfected in one try! All failures are valuable experience. If you really want to ask what I’ve achieved these past two years, then I’ll tell you! I’ve made those idiots from the York family into something decent! The improved formulas you saw were their masterpieces… uh, and those idiots from Aerie Fortress, too.”

Victor was silent for two seconds, then pressed, “And what progress have you made yourself? Besides getting my Brute Fighter captive killed, you have nothing to show for it. Master Tofwen sent you to the Randell Fief, but not to be a tutor for others.”

“What could I do? There are no qualified experimental subjects for my potions here,” Glyn said with a shrug of his shoulders, which for him was equivalent to hopping on his feet.

“The concept for the mind potion targets Mind Warriors, to replace that damned ‘Source Power’… but where are the Mind Warriors? There isn’t a single one! Aside from the unlucky Barbarian captive, the rest are all useless.”

A pleasant voice came from beside Victor. Charlotte asked curiously, “Master Glyn, isn’t the purpose of a mind potion to cultivate ordinary people into Mind Warriors? According to what you’re saying, Mind Warriors could never appear.”

Being addressed respectfully as ‘Master’ improved Glyn’s mood considerably. He shook his head and said, “It’s not like that… Let me give you an analogy. A traditional berserk potion works by influencing the user’s bloodline, stimulating their inner potential, which indirectly affects their mental state. While it gives them a burst of strength, they no longer feel pain or a loss of blood. This is because their perception is weakened to its lowest point by the potion. Not only does this easily lead to death or injury for the user, but their attack accuracy also drops significantly.”

“A mind berserk potion influences the user’s mind to mobilize the power of their bloodline. This is an active, controllable berserk state that reduces harm to the user while greatly enhancing their combat effectiveness. However, the precondition for a mind berserk is that the user must possess a berserk-type bloodline talent.”

“His Highness Randall has classified Mind Warriors into primary, intermediate, and advanced. A primary Mind Warrior is someone who possesses the passive Vital Tenacity Talent. I need an intermediate Mind Warrior with an autonomous bloodline talent to serve as an experimental subject for my potions. Since there are no intermediate Mind Warriors, I could only try my luck with the Brute Fighter. Who knew he’d cough up blood and die after just a few bottles.”

The dwarf shook his head and said, “Brute Fighters, too fragile!”

Victor raised an eyebrow and asked, “What are your thoughts on Willie the Night Fiend?”

Glyn’s spirits lifted. He waved his short arms and said, “I suspect this fellow naturally possesses ‘Source Power’! But he’s too skinny. I plan to fatten him up a bit before testing my potions on him.”

Source Power was currently just a concept. Victor had proposed the hypothesis based on the Brute Fighter’s Bloodrage, a Knight’s Aura, and a Wizard’s magic, believing that a person’s inner potential combined with the power of the mind could manifest as a power with autonomous and non-passive characteristics. Victor’s own Source Power came from the void water element, but the source for ordinary people was still unknown.

The recent test indicated that the Night Fiend possessed talents such as a will of fear, super strength, extraordinary agility, homicidal mania, and combat intuition. If he wasn’t a Wizard, then as an ordinary person, the root of his transformation was very close to the concept of Source Power.

Victor mentally calculated the timeline. Willie the Night Fiend had become a captive of the Faceless after he had left Aerie Fortress, and was then sent to the Randell Fief as an experimental subject. The old wizard Tofwen must have personally “probed” Willie’s and the Night Fiend’s two different bloodline states.

“Give me Master Tofwen’s letter regarding Willie the Night Fiend. Also, inform My Lady Trisley at Rose Manor that I want all intelligence on Willie, including information about his parents and relatives… In short, the more detailed the information on Willie and the Night Fiend, the better.”

Chapter 720: Winning Over

The case of Willie the Night Fiend was of great significance to Victor.

The letter from Tofwen the Wizard indicated that he had indeed observed Willie in two different bloodline states: as a human and as a Night Fiend.

The letter stated that Willie’s bloodline state as a human was also abnormal. His internal organs were exceptionally powerful, but the nutrients he absorbed from food were almost entirely used to nourish his inner potential. As a result, his appearance was frail and thin. He was usually listless and tired, with a pale complexion, always looking half-asleep and half-awake, and he entered deep sleep with remarkable ease.

At night, when Willie transformed into the Night Fiend, his bloodline state swung to another extreme. His spirit became highly active, his inner potential was fully unleashed, and he possessed strength and agility far beyond that of a normal person. His senses sharpened, and he gained the ability of low-light vision.

In truth, the Night Fiend also possessed three special mind talents: terrifying will, frenzied slaughter, and combat intuition. However, Tofwen’s Wizardry could only probe bloodline states, not delve into the domain of the mind. Moreover, the Chief of the Faceless had reached the twilight of his life; old and frail, he lacked the vigor to further study the secrets of Willie the Night Fiend. He sent this precious experimental subject to the Randell Fief, hoping that Victor and Dwarf Glyn could find a breakthrough point in Mental Potion-making through him.

Tofwen’s research into the Bloodline Law was unparalleled in the world, and the Church had thousands of years of accumulated research on the power of the mind. But when it came to combining the mind and bloodlines to create an entirely new field, Victor could be called the foremost expert of the day.

The Night Fiend Willie’s mind talents and Bloodline talents were mutually complementary, conforming to the aesthetic principles of natural creation. Whether his dual-soul state was innate or the result of Wizardry, it held extremely high reference value.

No one could create a field of study from thin air; all academic or technical disciplines had a basis in reality. Willie the Night Fiend was a living example. Unearthing his secrets could expand the content of many academic fields, such as Aerie Fortress’s Potion-making and the Church’s research into the mind, and of course, the Mind Bloodline secret art.

Victor believed that both the Church and Aerie Fortress were investigating the origins of Willie the Night Fiend. Tofwen had sent the firsthand information he possessed to the House of Randell, even attaching a brief intelligence report on Willie.

However, he needed more detailed information to deduce the Night Fiend’s origins.

Victor could not rely solely on Aerie Fortress for information. His Highness Randell had his own intelligence forces; besides Quicksilver, he could also mobilize the spies under Trisley’s command.

Comparatively, Quicksilver’s intelligence network was broader, covering nearly all the human kingdoms, but it had too few core spies, and their professionalism was inferior to the spies trained by the York family. To avoid attracting the attention of the Inquisition, it was more appropriate for Victor to assign the task of secretly investigating Willie to Rose Manor.

A thorough and in-depth investigation into a person’s past took time. This was a long-term task; even with the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s power, it could take several months, or even two or three years, to receive the detailed reports in installments. Victor was patient, but this was not the only thing that needed to be done.

The next morning, Victor had Charlotte personally handle the relocation of the Potion Master’s secret fortress. Using this as an excuse to send his sworn female knight away, he took several Alchemical militia Guards to Imosen the Wizard’s animal taming grounds.

Imosen was timid, lecherous, and craved a life of comfort and ease, but for those very reasons, he was exceptionally diligent in his work. In over three years, he had achieved considerable success.

First, building upon sentinel hounds and guard dogs, he had used Wizardry to cultivate the brand-new Randell Bear Hound. This was a warhound with firm muscles and a robust frame, about the same size as an Alchemical Warhound, and resembled a miniature bear. Its Nature was resolute and brave, possessing keen senses and an astonishing bite force, and it was relatively obedient. In a real combat test, four adult male Bear Hounds, working together, had actually managed to kill an Alchemical Warhound that wasn’t using its Bloodlust talent, at the cost of two deaths and one serious injury.

This meant that a normal Alchemical Warhound could not completely overwhelm an adult male Bear Hound with sheer strength; its wild intuition was the advantage the Bear Hound struggled to match. What satisfied Victor the most was that the Bear Hound was an Omnivore with an extremely broad diet. Plant-based feed could make up more than half of its food intake; they ate everything from mushrooms, worms, and tender grass to raw sugar and honey, truly resembling bear-like beasts.

The Bear Hound’s lifespan and rearing costs were clearly superior to the Alchemical Warhound’s. Victor could see that Imosen had used the Alchemical Warhound as a benchmark, intending to compete with that non-existent Wizard through the breeding of the Bear Hound, all to prove his own worth to his Master.

Besides the Bear Hound, Imosen had also crossbred the wild red bulls of the Warton Great Plains with common oxen to cultivate a docile Short-horned Ox with outstanding endurance, capable of pulling a standard war chariot in place of two heavy draft horses.

Imosen explained that the Short-horned Ox was still in its first generation and had the potential for further improvement, but this would require more time and effort. He had currently successfully improved the second-generation Camelope and two and a half generations of the Swiftbird war-fowl.

The Camelope was originally the traditional mountain pack animal of the Naville people. It was a medium-sized animal, about the size of a donkey from Earth, and could carry loads under six hundred pounds. Victor never expected that Imosen would actually communicate with the swamp Goblin chief about animal taming skills to breed the second-generation Camelope.

Their bodies were smaller than normal Camelopes, with a high, protruding hump that stored more water and fat, allowing them to travel long distances under heavy loads. Although the second-generation Camelope’s carrying capacity was reduced to four hundred pounds, they ate less, had greater stamina, were skilled at enduring hunger and thirst, shed their coats twice a year for cold and heat resistance, and could adapt to transportation needs in various environments, such as swamps and dense forests.

However, the third-generation Swiftbird war-fowl that Victor had been anticipating was still stuck at two and a half generations. Imosen explained that because the number of swamp Goblin slaves was approaching forty thousand, the Lizardmen tribes were finding it difficult to control them. To deal with the various problems brought by the growing Goblin population, he had prioritized breeding the Bear Hounds and Camelopes, hoping these two animals could enhance the patrol strength and transport capabilities of the forward base, and effectively restrict the activities of the Goblin slaves, preventing them from escaping the forward base’s actual control and forming new Goblin tribes.

Afterward, Imosen swore an oath to Victor, assuring him that he would now focus on breeding the third-generation Swiftbird war-fowl and expected to produce results that would satisfy his Master within three years.

Imosen the Wizard’s work ethic won Victor’s praise. In contrast to Dwarf Glyn’s lack of accomplishments, he could practically be called a model scholar of the House of Randell. But on careful thought, there were objective reasons for the difference between the two. Dwarf Glyn’s Potion-making skills had already reached their peak, and any further progress was extremely difficult. In contrast, Imosen’s study of animal taming had just begun. The House of Randell provided him with protection and a proving ground, giving him the conditions to explore the depths of his own Wizardry.

In ancient times, Wizards generally doubled as scholars, provided they lived without worry.

Regardless, Victor had to encourage Imosen. In the past, he had feared being implicated by his association with a Wizard and had never accepted Imosen in the family’s name. But now, with the status of the Raging Wind Sword Saint, keeping a Wizard was a minor issue, not to mention that Father Miller had been secretly looking after Imosen and his daughter. Victor immediately bestowed the Randell surname upon Imosen, granted him a manor, and personally invited him to Silver Moon Manor for dinner.

This so-called “personal invitation” actually included the accompaniment of Macy, the Ferocious Warrior. Victor intended to arrange a marriage between Macy and Imosen. As a Wizard who had to remain in the shadows, Imosen couldn’t discuss his secrets with his two young wives. Victor needed to understand the Wizard’s hidden side and his progress in Wizardry, so it was necessary to arrange a bedfellow for Imosen who could discuss secrets with him and soothe his emotions.

Macy was a suitable candidate. She knew that the House of Randell valued her because Tournans needed to test a Forging Method to enhance the abilities of Ferocious warriors. Driven by ambition and a desire for power, she had accepted the role of a test subject, even abandoning her family to show her loyalty and determination. In the battle to intercept the enemy at Little Calf Village one year ago, Macy had performed brilliantly, strangling a Silver-rank Dire Centaur to death and earning the title “Blood Python.”

During Victor’s visit to the Theocracy of Ayr, he had asked Pope Clement to heal Macy’s eyes and restore her appearance, which was also a way of stating the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s attitude. From then on, Macy the “Blood Python” was no longer a test subject for the Templars; she was a core member of the House of Randell.

The power and extraordinary strength that Macy craved could only be given to her by Victor, so there was no need to doubt her loyalty. With Macy the “Blood Python” protecting Imosen the Wizard, Victor would be much more at ease.

After three body reconstructions, Macy’s face was stunning, her skin fair, and her figure tall and voluptuous. Compared to the gentle and charming household maids, she possessed a different kind of allure. When Imosen saw her, his eyes went wide. The moment Victor hinted at matching the two of them up, he immediately began to shower Macy with attention, taking the opportunity to show off the manor he had just received.

Unfortunately, Macy looked down on Imosen completely, responding to his advances with cold indifference.

After dinner, Victor asked Macy for her opinion of Imosen. As expected, Macy bluntly stated that she liked Narsen, but Narsen didn’t like her. If she couldn’t marry Lord Narsen, she hoped to form a family with a noble, even if it meant not having the official status of a wife. As for Imosen, he was too weak.

Victor was speechless. He couldn’t very well tell Macy now that Imosen was actually a Legendary Wizard, and that with enough time and the right environment, he could develop an entire legion of Aberrant Beasts.

Besides, Imosen’s extraordinary power seemed to have little to do with his physical strength.

Macy was, after all, a Ferocious warrior who had ignited the fire of the mind, with strength approaching Silver rank. Victor couldn’t very well force her to marry Imosen.

Fortunately, His Highness Randell could now compel many people. The sword-wielding handmaidens trained at Quicksilver Manor mostly came from mountain strongholds. Their faith in the Lord of Radiance was faint to non-existent. Through body reconstruction and diligent practice of the Source Blood Secret Art, they possessed considerable strength. Victor decided to pick a sword-wielding handmaiden who was outstanding in all aspects and give her to Imosen as his wife.

After Macy left, Victor took out a priceless life-extending potion and guided the Wizard in taking it. A life-extending potion personally concocted by the Master Tofwen, with the heart of a Dragon-blooded Kobold as its main ingredient, was something even Duke York couldn’t obtain. But Imosen the Wizard was worth this large capital investment from Victor.

Once Imosen fell into a deep sleep and Victor confirmed the life-extending potion was taking effect, he quietly left Silver Moon Manor, taking the two Alchemical militia, Reno and Shak, to the Alchemy Tower in the Hill Secret Fortress.

The cavern of the Alchemy Tower was cold and damp. Victor walked into the inner cave, glanced at the unchanged creation altar, and connected his consciousness to the Tower Spirit, saying, “King, I’m back.”

The Tower Spirit’s emotionless voice sounded in Victor’s mind:

“My lord, Alchemy Tower Seven welcomes your return and awaits your command.”

Victor nodded and gave his usual order, “Report on the status of Alchemy Tower Seven.”

Chapter 721: Dragon Blood Sacrifice (Part 1)

“Alchemy Tower No. 7, total Soul Fire: 14,031 points. Controlling 9 Alchemical Dragon-Lizards, 4 Alchemical Soldiers, 349 third-level Source-Blood Militia, 204 Alchemical militia, 21 Alchemical Warhounds, 543 Alchemical auxiliary soldiers, 0 alchemical crows. Remaining Soul Fire: 3,347 points. Remaining resources: 818 Gold Sols.”

Victor couldn’t help but whistle when he heard the number of third-level Source-Blood Militia. He chuckled and asked Reno, “Are my 349 Source-Blood Militia all settled in?”

Reno nodded and bowed obsequiously. “As you commanded, My lord, the Source-Blood Militia first go to the mountain stronghold for a year of training in social norms, during which they participate in labor and patrol duties at the marsh base. Then, they go to Quicksilver Manor for three months of intensive training to learn how to interact with people and how to hide their strength. Finally, Jack and I place the fully trained Source-Blood Militia into the ranks of the refugee workers and The Swamp Scouts… Currently, these 349 Source-Blood Militia are in the hired laborers’ camps and the scout garrisons, awaiting your summons, My lord.”

The Elemental Attributes of a third-level Source-Blood Militiaman are 17 Physique, 13 Spirit, 16 Perception, and 3 Life. They have a lifespan of fifteen years and a unit cost of over four thousand Gold Sols. They possess four skill slots, loaded with Gathering, Griffin Mystic Form, Dire Wolf Mystic Form, and Source Blood Mystic Form. They have the traits of minor resistance, tough physique, bone reinforcement, Superior Stamina, Resistance to Hunger and Thirst, and Minor Self-Healing. This makes them equivalent to an initial-rank Mind Warrior, a level-three Gryphon Militiaman who has mastered the Vital Tenacity Talent.

Manufacturing three hundred and fifty Source-Blood Militia cost over a million Gold Sols in total, and that’s not even counting the sacrificed alchemical creatures. But Victor had finally completed the upgrade of his Alchemical militia. As the strength of the third-level Source-Blood Militia was close to that of an initial-rank Bronze Knight, the military power under his command had taken a quantum leap.

Over a million Gold Sols was nothing to Victor now. Besides, the money had already been spent in exchange for several hundred formidable Source-Blood Militia, and the treasury of the Hill Secret Fortress now held another four million Gold Sols. Going forward, he only needed to slowly replenish the losses of alchemical creatures to ensure the Alchemy Tower’s continued smooth operation.

Victor was quite pleased. Seeing Reno’s fawning expression, he couldn’t help but thump him on his broad chest, laughing as he playfully chided, “Who did you learn these bootlicking skills from?”

Reno habitually mimicked Narsen’s mannerism of scratching the back of his head and said in a booming voice, “I saw many people act this way toward My Lady Nicole’s steward.”

Shak chimed in from the side, “My lord, we are your trusted Couriers. Many people flatter Reno and me just like this.”

Victor’s eyes narrowed slightly. He nodded and continued communicating with the Tower Spirit, “King, are there any problems with the Alchemy Tower’s functions?”

“Alchemy Tower No. 7 is operating well. All functions are normal.”

At this, Victor finally felt relieved. The King had once complained that the Alchemy Tower’s “logical beauty” made it very uncomfortable. Victor had said he didn’t care at the time, but he was secretly worried that the cobbled-together Alchemy Tower might one day suddenly collapse. That was why he had spent a great deal of wealth to have the Tower Spirit urgently produce third-level Source-Blood Militia. He wanted to complete the renewal of his alchemical creatures as quickly as possible, fearing that if the Alchemy Tower was damaged and the first generation of Alchemical militia reached the end of their lifespans and all died, it would create a power vacuum.

The armed forces of House of Randell, including the personal guard, Vassal cavalry, and the mercenary legion, were all under Victor’s control. However, the hundreds of mountain folk strongholds of various sizes were too far from the Randell Fief. Strictly speaking, they were illegal armed forces, not only prone to losing control but also at risk of being wiped out by external lords. Victor’s ability to firmly control these unruly mountain folk hunters relied entirely on his absolutely loyal and powerful Alchemical militia.

Each mountain folk stronghold had at least one or two Alchemical humans, but the ones with the longest lifespans had only five years left before returning to the Alchemy Tower, while the shortest had only three and a half. Now that Victor had these several hundred more powerful third-level Source-Blood Militia, he could dispatch them to ensure his control over the mountain folk strongholds for another decade or more. By the time the younger generation from the mountain stronghold training camps and Retainer Training Camps matured, Victor wouldn’t care even if the Alchemy Tower was damaged.

“King, two Alchemical Dragon-Lizards are missing. Have both of the squads I sent to scout the Ant-men been wiped out?” Victor asked, changing the subject.

“Yes,” the Tower Spirit responded. “The Soul Fire of the two alchemical creature units on the reconnaissance mission has fully returned to the Alchemy Tower. One of them encountered a large Half-dragon tribe participating in the bloody battle while crossing the Great Marsh. They failed to break out and were completely annihilated by the Half-dragons. The other team lost three alchemical crows but successfully crossed the Great Marsh and entered an unknown great plain. However, they were targeted by a large pack of prairie Gnolls. After twelve consecutive days of fierce fighting, only one Alchemical Dragon-Lizard and one level-three Gryphon Militiaman managed to escape into the Endless Forest. But they couldn’t find any trace of the Ant-men and were eventually killed by a jungle monster.”

“My lord, would you like to read the memory fragments they uploaded?”

“Of course.”

A series of moving images appeared one by one in Victor’s mind. They were the memories of the alchemical creatures from the last five minutes before their deaths. By combining and analyzing them, Victor deduced what had happened to the two scouting parties.

The first scouting party was rather unlucky, encountering a large Half-dragon tribe participating in the bloody battle. Although they had carefully avoided various dangers, the marsh races were influenced by the bloody battle and had become aggressive and sensitive. A confrontation occurred in an open area. The entire process was unremarkable; the alchemical creatures were focused only on fleeing, while thousands of Half-dragon hunters gave chase, accompanied by Serpent Fiends as large as tigers. Due to the swamp terrain restricting their movement speed, the alchemical creature squad could not escape their doom and were all shot down by the Half-dragon hunters’ javelins.

The second team’s luck was slightly better than the first’s. At least they made it through the Lizard Marsh—it was a close call—and entered the unknown great plains. Although they were pursued by prairie Gnolls, two alchemical units managed to break into the vast, boundless Endless Forest. Then, their luck ran out. A monster in the forest killed the last two alchemical creatures.

The scouting party of alchemical creatures didn’t even encounter the Ant-men. Three hundred thousand Gold Sols had just gone down the drain.

Still, in his first attempt using the Alchemy Tower’s memory upload function, Victor did learn a few things.

A combination of an Alchemical Dragon-Lizard, four Warhounds, six Gryphon Militiamen, and thirty alchemical crows should have been a powerful force. Two such scouting parties shouldn’t have been completely wiped out just as they reached the edge of the Endless Forest. The main reason for the mission’s failure was the rigid and inflexible behavior of the alchemical creatures; they failed to adopt more flexible survival tactics. For instance, when the second scouting party entered the great plains with its members intact and was pursued by hundreds of Gnolls, they simply fled. With the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard’s speed, they did indeed pull away from the ordinary Gnolls, but one Gnoll with a patch of white fur on its forehead consistently tailed them from not far behind. Based on the memory images uploaded by the alchemical creatures, Victor judged that Gnoll to have power at the peak of the Silver rank. The scouting party could have easily set a trap to ambush and kill it. But the alchemical creatures were strictly following Victor’s orders to preserve themselves as much as possible. When the white-furred Gnoll caught up, they first had a Warhound hold it back while the rest continued to flee west. After all four Warhounds were sacrificed, it was the Alchemical militia’s turn to cover the retreat one by one, until only two alchemical creatures made it into the Endless Forest.

If the scouting party had an experienced Elite Soldier as a commander, they definitely would have gotten much further.

Alchemical creatures were consumables, after all. Victor could accept this fact. Fortunately, the memory upload function had also provided him with a lot of useful information. It turned out there was a great plain between the Lizard Marsh and the Endless Forest. Decades ago, the Forest Centaurs must have crossed the marsh and annihilated the Ant-man army on that same plain.

Furthermore, the jungle monster that had killed the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard also caught Victor’s attention. It stood 3.2 meters tall, with a very stout, humanoid body, but its surface was covered in green moss. Its head had only eyes and nostrils, seeming to have no need for food or water. The strangest part was that it didn’t have normal flesh and blood. Even when the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard bit off half its head, no blood or brains were seen. Instead, it used its massive claws to dismember the Dragon-Lizard alive.

This was clearly not a creature in the ordinary sense. It was more like an artificial monster, or perhaps an undead?

Whatever it was, and that white-furred Gnoll… if they knew they had been “seen” by the master of the Alchemy Tower, would they be able to sleep at night? Victor thought with a touch of dark humor.

The alchemical creatures were only a part of the Alchemy Tower. The tower itself was the complete life form, its power capable of radiating for thousands of kilometers with ease.

Victor let out a breath. With his current spiritual power, reading the memory fragments of a hundred alchemical creatures at once was still manageable, but several times more than that would likely be taxing. The Alchemy Tower No. 7, however, had no problem collecting all the uploaded memory fragments and skills from every alchemical creature.

This was a life form with a divine nature, possibly part of an Ancient God. Just how powerful would an active Ancient God be?

“King, how many gold coins does it cost to create a standard Alchemical militiaman now?” Victor asked the Tower Spirit, collecting his thoughts.

“1,010 Gold Sols can produce one standard Alchemical militiaman,” the King responded.

“The Gold Sol has indeed appreciated in value. In that case, there’s no need to rush the production of more alchemical creatures.” A smile appeared on Victor’s face as he nodded. “Reno, Shak, in a moment, take some men and count out two hundred thousand Gold Sols to sacrifice to the Alchemy Tower. I’ll have the Tower Spirit set up a production queue for Alchemical Warhounds and alchemical crows immediately.”

“Yes, My lord,” the two Alchemical militia said in unison.

Victor fell silent for a moment, then asked, “You haven’t forgotten to write in your diaries every day, have you?”

“No, we write in our diaries every day,” Reno said earnestly.

Reno, Shak, Jack, and the other first-generation Alchemical militia were almost fifteen years old. Victor could no longer treat them as ordinary people. It was just that these few Alchemical militia had some influence within the House of Randell, and Victor needed them to continue assisting him in their current roles.

Their return to the Alchemy Tower was inevitable, and their memories would be reset. Victor hoped that by having them keep diaries, he could help them recover their current memories more quickly.

“After this is done… you will return to the Alchemy Tower,” Victor said, pausing briefly but keeping his tone calm. “I’m going to forge new, powerful bodies for you. Only a fifth-level Source-Blood Militiaman is worthy of being the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s Courier.”

“As you wish, My lord,” Reno and Shak said respectfully, their emotions showing no fluctuation whatsoever.

Victor nodded silently. He took the Marvelous Crystal collected from the Dragon-blooded Kobold out of his pocket and casually tossed it onto the Alchemy Tower’s altar. “King,” he instructed the Tower Spirit in his mind, “analyze its essence and then tell me its sacrifice value.”

“Ancient Dragon Blood, value: forty-seven million, eight hundred eighteen thousand, nine hundred and ninety-three Gold Sols… Master, do you wish to sacrifice it?”

Victor was stunned for a long time before asking blankly, “What… Ancient Dragon Blood? How many Gold Sols?”

Chapter 722: Dragon Blood Sacrifice

“Forty-seven million, three hundred sixty-eight thousand, four hundred twenty-two Gold Sols.”

The Tower Spirit King repeated the same number.

Victor hadn’t misheard. He just couldn’t believe an ancient Marvelous Crystal was valued by the Tower Spirit at over forty-seven million Gold Sols.

What did that even mean?

The Centaur Hills had proposed a plan to trade rock bricks for gold coins, collecting twenty million Gold Sols from the royal families of various kingdoms. Not a single king could produce that much gold at once. They had to clean out their own treasuries and even consult with their lords to raise currency worth twenty million Gold Sols. This was because, apart from the wealthy Kingdom of Naville, the other royal families had to keep a reserve of gold coins to maintain the credibility of their Purple Gold Coins, and could only hand over a considerable amount of silver and copper coins to the Centaur Hills.

The agreement stipulated a one-year deadline for the gold coin delivery, but almost every royal family had privately requested an extension from Victor. The twenty-three million gold coins transported by the King of Naville alone required more than a hundred carriages to load. If all these coins were poured out, they would form a small mountain.

Following this, there were still gold, silver, and copper coins worth about one hundred twenty million to be transported to the Centaur Hills. According to the House of Randell’s share in the Double-Headed Dragon Merchant Association, they stood to receive twenty-four million gold coins. However, Victor did not plan to distribute this money. He intended to manage it centrally, using it for coordinated projects and only distributing some dividends to the lords of the Centaur Hills each year.

The Marvelous Crystal confiscated from the Dragon-blooded Kobolds was valued at almost forty-eight million Gold Sols, which was eighteen million more than the money Victor had earned from selling rock bricks!

Victor remembered very clearly that he had a similar Marvelous Crystal from the Alchemy Tower ruins in the Misty Mountains, and the King had valued it at zero. The difference between the two was the drop of blood in the center—Ancient Dragon Blood!

Over ten thousand years ago, the Dragons had already departed from the human kingdoms, vanishing without a trace. The mighty Dragons had since existed only in the songs and stories passed down by bards. As for Ancient Dragons, Victor knew nothing about them at all, but their blood was presumably something extraordinary.

If this Marvelous Crystal, which sealed the Ancient Dragon Blood, could be exchanged for a mountain of gold, Victor might have to weigh whether it was worth it. In truth, mere gold no longer held much meaning for him. Besides, with the wealth-harvesting mechanism he had established, the Alchemy Tower could continuously acquire resources.

Therefore, the urgent task was to first understand the actual function of the Ancient Dragon Blood, not to sacrifice it through the Alchemy Tower to some unknown entity!

Victor had been toying with the Marvelous Crystal for some time but had never found a way to open it. Perhaps Sylvia could use her void water element to forcefully break the crystal, but who could predict what changes would occur to the Ancient Dragon Blood once the crystal’s seal was broken?

To understand the purpose of the Ancient Dragon Blood, he had to start with the Tower Spirit of Alchemy Tower No. 7. Although the King could not lie to its master, it had a history of deceiving Victor, taking advantage of information asymmetry to deliberately conceal key details and mislead the tower master’s decisions.

Victor roughly understood the King’s reasons for doing so. As a living entity, the Alchemy Tower instinctively strove for perfection. The Tower Spirit King had repeatedly asked Victor to upgrade the Alchemy Tower’s level and authority step-by-step. But the more it did so, the less Victor wanted to satisfy it.

“What other use does the Ancient Dragon Blood have for the Alchemy Tower?” Victor asked thoughtfully, retrieving the Marvelous Crystal from the altar.

The King responded without hesitation, “The Ancient Dragon Blood can complete the biological information of the Dragon Warrior and activate its production function.”

“What?! You bastard… I can’t even be bothered to curse you!” An unimaginably huge surprise sent His Highness Randell’s thoughts into chaos, and he cried out incoherently in his mind.

Dragon Warrior, an advanced alchemical combat unit. In human form, it had 20 points in Physique, 30 in Spirit, 20 in Perception, and 5 in Life. In half-dragon form: Physique 35, Spirit 30, Perception 25, Life 5. In dragon-beast form: Physique 42, Spirit 30, Perception 18, Life 5.

A Dragon Warrior cost 150,000 Gold Sols, had a service life of twenty years, could be equipped with six skills, and possessed extraordinary talents such as Lightning Reflexes, Dynamic Vision, Elemental Resistance, Dragon’s Rage, Dragon Breath, and Shapeshifting. It was also immune to negative effects like poison, Soul Oppression, curses, and Elemental Stasis.

As a humanoid alchemical unit, the Dragon Warrior also possessed the ability to learn.

A few years ago, Victor went to great lengths to obtain a fragmented Rune Crystal from the Gloomy Forest in southeastern Gambis to restore Alchemy Tower No. 7’s ability to produce Alchemical Dragon-Lizards. At the same time, the Tower Spirit King had acquired information about the Dragon Warrior.

Back then, Victor was dirt poor. Coupled with the fact that the Dragon Warrior could only be looked at but not produced, he had sourly complained that its cost-effectiveness was extremely low and not worth 150,000 Gold Sols.

Today was different. The House of Randell was now swimming in wealth, yet Victor found himself lacking high-end alchemical creatures. Currently, the strongest Alchemical Soldiers in Alchemy Tower No. 7 were all cannon fodder-level combat units, unable to effectively intervene in His Highness Randell’s battles. In moments like Victor’s fights against the Bear-monster Elder, the Manticore, or the Centaur Great Khan, the Alchemical Soldiers had been of little use. They couldn’t even keep up with Victor, let alone protect the Raging Wind Sword Saint in battle.

The Dragon Warrior was by no means a cannon-fodder unit for the Alchemy Tower. The Tower Spirit King had once described it with a long string of information, but Victor now measured a creature’s power solely by the spiritual power in its basic attributes. A creature with a weak Spirit attribute was trash, no matter how strong its Physique. If the level of life was divided by the Spirit attribute, then 16 to 24 points was Silver rank, 25 to 29 was Gold rank, and a Spirit attribute of 30 or above meant stepping into the legendary realm.

Of course, this method of classification had its formal limitations and couldn’t fully represent an individual’s combat power. Take Imosen the Wizard, for instance. He was an ordinary person normally, but when he performed Wizardry, his Spirit attribute increased. Using his most advanced Wisdom Guidance Wizardry, Victor estimated his spiritual power broke through 30 points, reaching a legendary level. That was why the two-headed Dragon-Lizard Itugos he remote-controlled could sweep away hundreds of alchemical creatures, including several Alchemical Dragon-Lizards. Unfortunately, Imosen himself was still too weak; the battle ended once he was knocked unconscious by the Alchemical militia.

The elemental attributes of a giant creature were different from those of a medium-sized one, and a Wizard’s Spirit attribute was different from a warrior’s.

The Dragon Warrior’s Spirit was stable at 30 points. It was, without a doubt, a Legendary-rank alchemical creature.

The higher the Spirit attribute, the deeper one’s control over oneself. For a human-sized body, a Spirit attribute exceeding 20 points would automatically ignite the fire of the mind. For Victor to create an Alchemical militia with a Spirit attribute of 20, it would cost over 100,000 Gold Sols. A Dragon Warrior cost 150,000 and had a Spirit of 30. How could its cost-effectiveness possibly be poor?

It seemed that with wealth, the standard for cost-effectiveness truly changed.

Moreover, the Dragon Warrior could transform into a half-dragon form and a dragon-beast form, drastically increasing its elemental attributes and gaining exceptionally powerful extraordinary talents. Although the half-dragon form could breathe dragon breath and use Dragon’s Rage, it still maintained a humanoid shape. The dragon-beast form was different. The Dragon Warrior would transform into a large Dragon Beast over seven meters long and 2.6 meters tall. Its power, even if not quite matching a real Dragon’s, wouldn’t be far off.

How could a human weighing just over two hundred pounds transform into a massive creature weighing thousands of pounds?

The only explanation was that the Dragon Warrior used the void element to coalesce its dragon-beast body. In other words, it possessed the extraordinary ability of elementalization, making it difficult to destroy with brute force. Even if it suffered heavy damage in its normal state, it could still complete its transformation and return to its strongest combat form.

Although the dragon-beast transformation was irreversible, Victor would probably have some trouble dealing with it himself. Conversely, with a Dragon Beast acting as a meat shield, Victor could even face a giant legendary creature like a Hydra Lizard head-on.

Victor activated his X-3, reining in his restless emotions. After regaining his composure, he asked, “The Ancient Dragon Blood isn’t a Rune Crystal. Why can it restore the Dragon Warrior production function?”

“Not restore, but add,” the King replied. “Honored Master, do you remember after I integrated the Rune Crystal from the Misty Mountains, the Alchemy Tower gained a useless function?”

The Rune Crystal Victor had retrieved from the Misty Mountains in the Kingdom of Naville had completed three functions for Alchemy Tower No. 7: first, the memory upload for alchemical creatures; second, elemental adjustments for alchemical creatures. As for the third function, it couldn’t even be called a function. After integrating the Rune Crystal, Alchemy Tower No. 7 had inexplicably acquired several hundred biological templates, all of them strange and bizarre life forms—half-deer, half-human creatures; people with cat ears and tails; people with insect wings on their backs, and so on. Their common feature was that both males and females were either beautiful, cute, or enchanting, but they couldn’t be produced or manufactured, making it seem like a biological template database.

At first, Victor thought the Alchemy Tower in the Misty Mountains was experimental in nature, where Alchemists attempted to break the reality law and create entirely new types of alchemical creatures. A more malicious speculation was that the Alchemist designed many alternative biological templates to satisfy the private desires of certain powerful mages, but those creatures couldn’t be created at all. He was purely trying to swindle resources from the powerful mages while secretly working on his own things.

There was a realistic basis for Victor’s idea. The alchemical creatures he knew were all based on natural creatures. For example, the Savi Warrior was almost identical to a Goat-Headed Monster, and the Alchemical Warhound was like a dire wolf. Only the Ant-man was strangely shaped, fitting the model of a new type of alchemical creature.

Now it seemed the biological template database was not a useless function after all. It had combined with the bloodline information contained within the Ancient Dragon Blood to add a new unit to Alchemy Tower No. 7—the Dragon Warrior.

“Show me the biological template for the Dragon Warrior,” Victor ordered after a moment of contemplation.

The Tower Spirit transmitted an image of a male and female pair to Victor. The male had bronze skin and a tall, sculpted physique; the female had fair, tender skin and a voluptuous, graceful figure. Both were extraordinarily beautiful humanoid creatures, but they were definitely not pure humans, because they had vertical pupils and a pair of forward-curving, pure white horns growing from beneath their hair.

“This is not the human template for the Dragon Warrior! Are you sure the new unit being added is the Dragon Warrior?” Victor frowned, his expression grave as he asked.

“The information I received is for the Dragon Warrior,” the Tower Spirit replied. “But I cannot be certain if a sub-human template for the Dragon Warrior will undergo mutation. My lord, Alchemy Tower No. 7 itself does not have this function, I am referring to adding new units.”

After a moment’s thought, Victor said, “However, the Alchemy Tower in the Misty Mountains clearly had this function… Having absorbed the Rune Crystal from the Misty Mountains, Alchemy Tower No. 7 is no longer the original Alchemy Tower No. 7.”

He paused, then commanded, “King, give me your suggestions regarding the Ancient Dragon Blood for my consideration.”

The King said in its unchanging tone, “My lord, I must remind you that a new unit brings unknown changes. I fear the Alchemy Tower may be damaged because of it, so I suggest you sacrifice the Ancient Dragon Blood in exchange for resources… Alternatively, you could temporarily store the Ancient Dragon Blood, first collect Rune Crystals, and upgrade the authority level of Alchemy Tower No. 7 to learn more information about the Alchemical Empire, then consider integrating the Ancient Dragon Blood… The last option is to directly integrate the Ancient Dragon Blood, allowing Alchemy Tower No. 7 to add an unconfirmed new unit. It might not be the Dragon Warrior we know; it could be stronger, or weaker.”

“Above are the three suggestions I offer you.”

Victor was silent in contemplation, the corners of his mouth gradually curling into an inscrutable smile. “You tried to tempt me into sacrificing the Ancient Dragon Blood with a price of over forty-seven million Gold Sols, and now you’re trying to scare me with uncertain risks… If the Alchemy Tower had tens of millions of Gold Sols in reserve and I couldn’t use it all, I might be tempted to acquire new functions, which would require continuing to search for Rune Crystals to upgrade your authority level… Looking at it from another angle, an uncertain Dragon Warrior might be weaker than expected, not worth spending over forty-seven million Gold Sols on. It might be better to first raise the Alchemy Tower’s authority level before choosing to integrate or sacrifice…”

“King, I can understand your fear of destruction and your pursuit of a perfect form as an instinct given to Tower Spirits by the Will Side. However, I don’t believe that upgrading the Alchemy Tower’s authority level will grant me access to information on experimental functions. If I don’t acquire that information, what am I supposed to do with this Marvelous Crystal sealing the Ancient Dragon Blood?”

“Sacrifice it? Sacrifice it to whom?”

Victor weighed the Marvelous Crystal in his hand and tossed it onto the Alchemy Tower’s altar, his dark gold eyes shimmering with a mysterious light. “I’m going to use it and Alchemy Tower No. 7 to test a hypothesis. From the moment I activated Alchemy Tower No. 7, the great Alchemists of the Alchemical Empire had already prepared everything. The law of extraordinary attraction brings about a convergence of fate… It won’t damage the Alchemy Tower, or at least it won’t let it be completely destroyed.”

“I choose to integrate!”

“As you wish, my Honored Master.”

The ancient stone altar immediately split open. The Marvelous Crystal sealing the dragon blood was drawn by the Alchemy Tower’s Rune Crystal and levitated in mid-air just like the stones beside it. The tiny runes within it began to glow, gradually iridescing into a glowing mist that was steadily absorbed by the Rune Crystal.

The integration process lasted for over two hours. When everything returned to calm, the King’s voice echoed in Victor’s mind, “Integration of Ancient Dragon Blood successful. A new alchemical combat unit has been added to the production function. Please name it, Master.”

Chapter 723: The Mystery of the Dragonoids

Images and data for the new alchemical units materialized in Victor’s mind. To his surprise, the King provided templates for two male and two female Sub-humans. They had horns growing from their heads and vertical pupils. Tall and strong, they were strikingly beautiful, exuding a powerful, non-human, and majestic aura that left a deep impression on Victor. He had never seen such a potent, tangible presence, not even from a High-ranked Knight.

Next, Victor understood why the Tower Spirit had listed four templates.

The Sub-humans transformed into different forms. Their bodies swelled to heights between two-point-five and three-point-four meters, and they sprouted draconic heads and tails. Their limbs grew thick and powerful, their knees reversed, and their hands and feet reshaped into something resembling a Lizardman’s claws, yet without hindering their ability to deftly wield various tools or weapons. Their skin became keratinized, forming a suit of smooth, heavy armor whose fluid lines were aesthetically pleasing, possessing a kind of natural beauty.

The four Sub-humans transformed into four distinct combat forms. While there were significant differences in the color of their keratinized skin, their size, and other physical details, they were clearly upright, bipedal humanoids, entirely unlike the Dragon-beast form of a Dragon Warrior.

Victor decided to call this new class of alchemical units “Dragonoids.” Their specific designations were: Dragonoid Protector, Dragonoid Rager, Dragonoid Ripper, and Dragonoid Assailant.

The Dragonoid Protector had 30 Physique, 27 Spirit, 24 Perception, and 8 Life. It cost one hundred and sixty thousand Gold Sol to create, had a lifespan of twenty years, could be equipped with six skills, and possessed two talents: Dragon Instincts and Dragon-form Transformation.

Dragon Instincts included: Self-Heal, Elemental Resistance, Fearful Gaze, Lightning Reflexes, Dynamic Vision, Draconic Psychic Intuition, and Dragon’s Rage.

The long list of abilities amazed Victor. He noticed that the Dragonoids’ racial talents overlapped with those of the Dragon Warriors, but with the addition of three new abilities: Self-Heal, Fearful Gaze, and Draconic Psychic Intuition.

Self-Heal: Exactly as the name suggested, Dragonoids had excellent self-healing abilities, though not on the level of Extraordinary Regeneration. When they assumed their Dragon-form, the Self-Heal talent was replaced by a dragon’s Extraordinary Regeneration.

Fearful Gaze: A Dragonoid’s stare exerted mental pressure on weaker creatures, inducing fear. The longer they stared, the more intense the effect. In its Dragon-form, its hostility created an aura of fear with an area-of-effect, while its gaze would stun and paralyze the target it focused on.

Draconic Psychic Intuition: Besides premonitions of danger and combat intuition, Dragonoids also possessed a post-cognitive psychic ability. They could reconstruct the events of any incident that provoked their hatred. For example, if a thief stole treasure guarded by a Dragonoid, it could hold a grudge against that thief for life. The definition of a Dragonoid’s “treasure” could be set by Victor—it could be an object, a fief, or even a person.

The Dragonoid Protector transformed into a Dragon-Form Protector, standing about three-point-four meters tall and weighing one thousand six hundred pounds. Its stats became 35 Physique, 27 Spirit, 20 Perception, and 8 Life. The effectiveness of its Dragon Instincts increased by thirty percent, and it gained a force field domain with a six-meter radius. The maximum transformation duration was one hundred minutes, with a cooldown ten times the duration of the transformation. For instance, if a Dragonoid Protector transformed for thirty minutes, it would need to remain in its base form for three hundred minutes before it could transform again.

The transformations of the other three Dragonoid types were fundamentally the same as the Protector’s, but with differences in their forms, attributes, and breath attacks.

The Rager had 26 Physique, 29 Spirit, 28 Perception, and 6 Life. It cost one hundred and eighty thousand Gold Sol and had a lifespan of fifteen years. When transformed into a Dragon-Form Rager, it stood three meters tall and weighed one thousand four hundred pounds. Its Spirit and Life attributes remained unchanged, while its Physique and Perception both increased to 30. The effectiveness of its Dragon Instincts was generally boosted by thirty-five percent, but its Dragon’s Rage was boosted by forty percent. It also automatically gained a Flame Breath with a maximum range of seventy meters while in its Dragon’s Rage state.

The Ripper had 24 Physique, 27 Spirit, 30 Perception, and 8 Life, with a lifespan of seventeen years. The Dragon-Form Ripper was two-point-six meters tall and weighed eight hundred pounds. Its Spirit and Life attributes were unchanged, its Physique dropped to 20, and its Perception increased to 35. The effectiveness of its Dragon Instincts was boosted by thirty percent, and it gained Lightning Breath, Wind Blade, and Claw of the Void Wind Element. In its Dragon’s Rage state, its Lightning Breath had a range of three hundred and eighty meters, its Wind Blade had a range of forty meters, and its Claw of the Void Wind Element was a melee skill.

The Assailant had 26 Physique, 27 Spirit, 25 Perception, and 10 Life. With a lifespan of twenty-five years, it cost two hundred and fifty thousand Gold Sol. When she transformed into a Dragon-Form Assailant, she stood two-point-eight meters tall, and her Physique and Perception each increased by three points. The effectiveness of her Dragon Instincts was boosted by twenty percent, but her Dragon’s Rage only increased by fifteen percent. She gained two types of breath attacks: Frost and Venom. In her Dragon’s Rage state, her Frost Breath Gushed out in a cone with a maximum radius of fifteen meters, while her Venom Breath had a range of thirty meters and possessed toxic, corrosive, and withering properties.

Compared to the previous data on Dragon Warriors, the Dragonoids seemed noticeably weaker—or perhaps they were stronger in other ways… Victor couldn’t draw a conclusion just yet, but the forty-seven million Gold Sol worth of Ancient Dragon Blood he had used had to produce some kind of result.

“King, can we produce Dragonoids now?” he asked in his mind.

“My lord, this time is different from before. Loading the information from the Ancient Dragon Blood into the male and female Dragonoid templates will require another three hundred and sixty-two days… I will only be able to begin producing Dragonoids in early August of next year,” the King replied promptly.

Victor frowned and commanded with some concern, “Run a self-diagnostic on all of the Alchemy Tower’s functions.”

The King paused for about three seconds before reporting the results: “All functions of Alchemy Tower No. 7 are operating normally.”

Integrating the Ancient Dragon Blood inherently carried risks. Hearing that the Alchemy Tower had passed its self-diagnostic, Victor finally breathed a sigh of relief. But the information-loading process would take ten months, and neither he nor the King could be certain that the Alchemy Tower wouldn’t undergo some unexpected change during that time.

Since he had ample funds and the Alchemy Tower had spare Soul Fire units, Victor decided to create as many alchemical creatures as possible. He asked, “Does loading the Ancient Dragon Blood information conflict with producing other alchemical creatures?”

“There is no conflict.”

Victor nodded and issued his orders to the King: “Establish a recurring production task. First, produce three hundred alchemical crows, eleven Alchemical Dragon-Lizards, and eighty Alchemical Warhounds. After that, produce third-level Source-Blood Militia indefinitely, but the Alchemy Tower must maintain a reserve of eight hundred Soul Fire units.”

“Production task established… My lord, the Alchemy Tower has insufficient resources to produce the Alchemical Dragon-Lizards. Subsequent tasks cannot proceed,” the King reminded him in a deadpan tone.

“I’ll deposit more money! Just start with the alchemical crows,” Victor said with a hint of resentment.

The value of gold coins was steadily increasing, so establishing a large-scale production task now was clearly a loss. The cost of a standard Alchemical militia had already dropped to one thousand and eighty Gold Sol, and in another year, their price would certainly be below one thousand. By that logic, delaying the Alchemy Tower’s production tasks by half a year would save him a fortune.

The problem was that creating Dragonoids required a long information-loading period. This indicated that the experimental Rune Crystal from the Misty Mountains, which had been grafted onto Alchemy Tower No. 7, was beginning to show its effects. Victor had to consider the possibility of the tower being damaged. To make full use of the remaining Soul Fire units, he decided to start the recurring production task ahead of schedule.

Looking on the bright side, there was justification for suffering a huge financial loss.

The green-skinned runts Victor had enslaved were procreating at an astonishing rate. Imosen was breeding bear-hounds and second-generation dromedaries to cope with the pressure of the Goblin expansion, but the bear-hounds and dromedaries needed time to increase their population before they could supplement the defensive and logistical capabilities of the Swamp Forward Base. Creating alchemical creatures would instantly fill the power gap at the Swamp Forward Base and intimidate the green-skinned runts, who had a habit of rebelling whenever their numbers grew large.

The thought of using these alchemical creatures to ruthlessly oppress the goblin slaves gradually improved Victor’s mood. He ordered Reno and Shak to sacrifice eight hundred thousand Gold Sol to the Alchemy Tower in measured batches, then returned to Silver Moon Manor alone.

Events were always interconnected. The Alchemy Tower’s integration of the Ancient Dragon Blood revealed a great deal of important information. Victor remained at Silver Moon Manor, spending time with his four ladies while organizing the new data. After more than ten days, he finally managed to sort out his thoughts.

The Dragonoids were less a new type of alchemical unit and more of a new class. Their physical forms, talents, and abilities were all different, and even their gender, lifespan, and cost varied. The Protector could only be made from the male Dragonoid template, while the Assailant could only be female. The Rager and Ripper, however, were not so particular and could be either male or female.

The differences between the Dragonoid combat units were related to the properties of the four major elements, a rule that in turn raised a series of questions.

Compared to the Dragon Warriors designed by the ancient Alchemists, the “Dragon Warriors” produced by Alchemy Tower No. 7 had been downgraded from Legendary-rank to Gold-rank. They were weaker, yet more expensive. The cheapest, the Protector and the Ripper, cost one hundred and sixty thousand Gold Sol, whereas a Dragon Warrior cost only one hundred and fifty thousand.

Victor also noted that a Dragon Warrior had three forms—Normal, Half-Dragon, and Dragon-Beast—and could transform twice. The Dragonoids, however, could only transform once, from their normal form to their Dragon-form.

Furthermore, a Dragon Warrior’s normal form possessed no Dragon Instincts, and its base attributes were lower than a Dragonoid’s. Therefore, the base Dragonoid should be benchmarked against the Half-Dragon, and the Dragon-form against the Dragon-Beast. Considering the Dragon Warrior’s high Spirit attribute of 30, even with their new talents, the Dragonoids were bound to be weaker than the Half-Dragons, and there was no doubt that the Dragon-form was weaker than the Dragon-Beast.

They were both draconic units, and the one with the lower Spirit attribute was weaker in every aspect. It was obvious to Victor that a Dragonoid’s Dragon’s Rage, breath weapon potency, and other Bloodline talents were somewhat inferior to a Half-Dragon’s.

However, the negative effects of using draconic talents were also weaker for the Dragonoids. A Dragonoid’s Dragon’s Rage had a time limit and didn’t consume its lifespan, whereas a Dragon Warrior’s did. The Dragon-form transformation was reversible, while the Dragon-Beast transformation was not; a Dragon Warrior would die in less than a day after turning into a Dragon-Beast.

In fact, the ancient Alchemists had also treated Dragon Warriors as consumables, but this defied common sense.

Dragon Warriors were extremely expensive to produce; even with the vast resources of the Alchemical Empire, they couldn’t afford to burn through them. Even if the Alchemists needed Dragon Warriors to counter the powerful individuals among the invaders during wartime, why didn’t they fix the flaws in their usage instead of deliberately manufacturing them as high-grade cannon fodder?

Victor didn’t believe the ancient Alchemists lacked this capability. The Dragonoids, which also came from one of their experiments, didn’t have the life-consuming flaw. Besides, true Dragons never harmed themselves by using their own racial talents.

Why was this so?

The size difference between the Dragon-Beast and the Dragon-form seemed to offer an explanation.

Dragons were a giant, intelligent species. How many points of Spirit would they need to drive their powerful bodies, terrifying racial talents, and superior wisdom?

Take the two-headed Dragon-Lizard Itugos for example. Imosen had to graft his own spiritual power of over 30 points onto the Giant Aberration using his Wisdom Guidance Wizardry to unleash its full potential. Without the spiritual power provided by Imosen, Itugos was just a mindless monster.

The two-headed Dragon-Lizard was about the same size as a Dragon. From this, Victor inferred that a Dragon’s Spirit attribute must be at least 50 points, while a Dragon-Beast only had 30.

A Soul Fire intensity of 30 could allow a human-sized Dragon Warrior to step into the Legendary-rank, but for a giant Dragon-Beast, it was probably a deficit of over 20 points. Insufficient spiritual power meant the Dragon-Beast couldn’t truly control itself. Its dragon blood talents could be unleashed but not reined in, leading it to burn its own life force as the price for inflicting massive damage on its enemies.

In contrast, Dragonoids were a large, intelligent species. A Spirit attribute of over 25 was more than enough for them. They could retain their superior wisdom and exert meticulous control over themselves, even manifesting draconic psychic talents. The Half-Dragon and Dragon-Beast forms had many of their instinctual talents pruned away. As for the Dragon Warriors, they had no draconic talents at all, completely wasting their 30-point Spirit attribute.

Viewed this way, the Dragonoids and their Dragon-forms were actually an improvement. The Dragon Warrior was the defective product.

Then, another question arose. The alchemy tower in the Misty Mountains had an element adjustment function. Why didn’t the ancient Alchemists simply adjust the Dragon Warrior’s Spirit attribute to 50 or higher and create a perfect, high-end alchemical creature?

Without the missing information, even the brightest person couldn’t answer this question. Victor, however, had built a psychic beacon for himself, collecting all sorts of information and deducing the mysteries of the world. He found a possible answer within his own jigsaw puzzle.

The evolution of the Law of Life followed the will of the Creator: from singular to diverse, from few to many, from powerful to weak.

For example, from a common person’s perspective, wolves eat rabbits, and rabbits eat grass. The wolf is strong and the rabbit is weak. So, could a vast number of rabbits defeat a wolf?

Theoretically, yes. But first, you would have to teach the rabbits what courage is, what sacrifice is, what teamwork is. But your words don’t matter; only the Creator’s do. He willed the rabbits to flee from wolves, so when a rabbit sees a wolf, it runs. Ten thousand rabbits would never think of trying to defeat a single wolf.

However, if a cataclysm wiped out all the wolves, the weaker rabbits would not necessarily go extinct. The Creator, Taelon Ruier, had designated a pan-conscious Path that pursued diversity in the Laws. In His eyes, the rabbits were strong and the wolves were weak. When Taelon Ruier’s will permeated the soul of every living being, a single powerful individual would instead pose a threat to Him. In ancient times, didn’t some Ancient Behemoths, with Spirit attributes in the tens of thousands or even hundreds of thousands, rebel against the Creator’s will, seeking transcendence and eternity?

The more diverse and interconnected the world’s Laws, the more powerful the Creator. The more singular and disconnected the Laws, the stronger the extraordinary individuals, and the weaker the Creator’s authority. This almost certainly determined the evolutionary trend of the world’s Laws—the Law of Life would branch from few to many, and living individuals would evolve from extraordinary to ordinary.

The Tower Spirit, King, had once questioned how the Lord of Radiance could change the world’s Laws and sever the connection between the Chosen Wizards and the Elemental Sea. The Lord of Radiance didn’t possess such immense power. It was simply the natural evolution of the world’s Laws, originating from the will of the Creator, Taelon Ruier. All the Lord of Radiance did back then was trigger a certain legalistic mechanism, ushering in the age of declining magic.

Assuming the Lord of Radiance was the ultimate creation of the Alchemical Empire, the ancient Alchemists and Archmages had clearly understood the evolutionary principles of the world’s Laws. They had deployed a secret weapon against the Ancient Gods who resisted the Creator’s will, attempting to use the Lord of Radiance to weaken their powerful influence on the mortal world.

Therefore, it wasn’t that the Alchemists couldn’t do it; they couldn’t adjust a Dragon Warrior’s Spirit attribute to 50 or higher. Because if they did, it would gain self-awareness and break free from the Alchemy Tower’s control.

An alchemical creature with exceptionally strong spiritual power would rebel, just as the Ancient Behemoths betrayed Taelon Ruier!

Perhaps the Ancient Gods, whose Soul Fires were fragmented by the alchemy towers, had not yet truly perished. Could they be reborn through such powerful alchemical creatures?

Chapter 724: Aberration

Various signs corroborated Victor’s hypotheses about the evolutionary laws of the world and led him to deduce the risk of rebellion among alchemical creatures.

The Bear-monster Elder in the Giantwood Forest had once spoken of an Eternal War that broke out among the Ancient Behemoths. The story he told corresponded with the Demonic Blood Sacrifices of the Era of the Chosen. The Ancient Behemoths killed one another to devour their opponent’s Divine Law, hoping to escape the path of pan-consciousness that led from procreation to death, and thereby attain the status of gods with immortal self-will. In a similar vein, Devils and evil gods tempted the ancient Chosen to sacrifice the flesh and souls of intelligent life to Them, much like how the Ancient Behemoths devoured each other.

The incredible consistency between mythology, legends, and historical events was enough to show that while the Creator Telariel diffused its Soul Fire to evolve myriad forms of life, the gods did the exact opposite, consolidating the Creator’s Soul Fire to sustain their own immortal will.

The Soul Fire units constrained by the Alchemy Towers possessed a quality of immortality. Regardless of the origin of this Soul Fire, it was, in the end, the diffused Divine Law of the Creator. For the time being, Victor regarded the immortal Soul Fire of the Alchemy Towers as the Soul Fire of the gods.

The principles of diffusion and consolidation of divine nature could also be applied to the way Alchemy Towers divided Soul Fire units to create alchemical creatures. It was as if the Alchemy Tower imprisoned the Soul Fire of a god within the individual shells of alchemical creatures, preventing them from consolidating to produce a powerful, independent will.

What would happen if all the Soul Fire units of an Alchemy Tower were to converge within a single alchemical creature?

Victor thought of the Ant-men. These monsters, which had once inflicted enormous losses on the Gambis Kingdom, possessed traits of both alchemical creatures and natural life. Alchemy Tower No. 7 could absorb the Soul Fire of an Ant-man chief, yet the behavior of common Ant-men was closer to that of an insect swarm.

In the notes of the Trigovar family’s ancestor was a small amount of information about an Ant-man Empress. She commanded an endless swarm of Ant-men that had suppressed an empire of another race under the protection of an evil god. After that empire, known as the Assyrian Empire, collapsed, the Ant-man Empress’s armies crossed the sea of trees, the grasslands, and the Great Marsh to invade the Centaur Hills, waging war against the powerful forest centaurs.

Victor had once thought that there was a Tower Master behind the Ant-men. However, while an Alchemy Tower could exist for tens of thousands of years, its master could not live that long. If the so-called Tower Master possessed the legacy of an Alchemist and could split the Soul Fire of humans, allowing them to control the Ant-man-producing Alchemy Tower for a long time, then over tens of thousands of years, they would not have remained obscure, hidden in the depths of the Endless Forest. They would have set foot in the human kingdoms long ago, searching for the ruins of other Alchemy Towers.

From this, it seemed there was no master behind the Ant-man Empress. It was itself a special kind of Alchemy Tower that had consolidated the immortal Soul Fire of an Alchemy Tower, possessed its own will, and had lived from tens of thousands of years ago until now.

The Ant-man Empress—a reborn god.

Of course, the term “reborn” might not be accurate. “Newly born” was also a possibility. The Will Side of the old god had long since been annihilated, and the immortal, divine Soul Fire had coalesced into a new will. But what difference did it make? Whether a reborn old god or a newly born Ant-man Empress, They both coveted the immortal Soul Fire imprisoned in Alchemy Tower No. 7.

Victor had no doubt that he and the Ant-man Empress were natural-born mortal enemies. Now that his foe had been elevated to the level of a god, he felt a sliver of extra pressure.

…Just a sliver, nothing more.

The House of Randell was not isolated and helpless. Victor still had Sylvia and Father Miller by his side, and behind him stood the Gambis Kingdom, and even the entirety of the human kingdoms. Even if the Ant-man Empress was a formidable enemy on the level of a god, the Lord of Radiance of humanity would only be stronger than her.

In fact, as the laws of the world were growing more constricting and even Wizards could no longer draw upon the power of the Elemental Sea, Victor was confident he could handle whatever methods the Ant-man Empress might employ.

Still, a god-level enemy was worth His Highness Randell’s heightened vigilance, even if she was merely a “false god” walking the earth.

In three years, the Ant-man army would once again invade the Centaur Hills. The three large fortresses in the Larkspur Mountains and tens of thousands of well-trained soldiers could hold the Ant-man tide back in the Great Marsh, but if given the chance, Victor would much rather eliminate the Ant-man Empress once and for all. The appearance of the Dragonoids increased that possibility.

Sufficient and accurate information was the prerequisite for any plan. Victor’s knowledge of the Ant-man Empress was extremely limited, and even the Trigovar ancestor’s notes contained little about her. That Deputy Inquisitor-General from over fifteen hundred years ago had never seen the Ant-man Empress with his own eyes. He had witnessed the cruel spectacle of the Assyrians performing blood sacrifices on their own kind to please devils, which led him to firmly believe that the devil worshipped by the Assyrian Empire was more evil than the Ant-men, and he ultimately chose to destroy the altar. His descriptions of the Ant-man Empress all came from the mouths of the Assyrians, but in reality, the Assyrians had no concept of an “Ant-man Empress,” only mentioning “Tamara,” which meant “the formless demon.”

The Assyrians believed that the demon “Tamara” controlled the Ant-man army, bent on devouring all life in the world, but no one had ever actually seen “Tamara,” for He was formless and could not be killed, able to descend upon any high-level Ant-man. Fortunately, the Assyrian Empire’s guardian deity, “Tutudos,” had established a barrier to drive away the high-level Ant-men that encroached upon the empire’s heartland.

Since the Assyrians had never seen the true form of “Tamara,” their accounts were unreliable and could only be taken as a reference.

Victor needed more sources of information, and the aberrant phenomenon of the Dragonoids gave him inspiration.

Alchemy Towers were what set the gender of alchemical creatures. All units produced by Alchemy Tower No. 7 were male, but the Dragonoid Raiders could only be created from a female template; even the King, the Tower Spirit, couldn’t adjust it.

The affinity for the water element determined the gender of the Dragonoid Raiders, rather than the Alchemy Tower. This phenomenon conformed to natural law, which meant the Dragonoid units possessed the characteristics of natural creatures. Considering their Soul Fire of over twenty-six points, Victor suspected that the Dragonoids were not only intelligent but also had personalities distinct from ordinary alchemical creatures. The steadfastness of the earth element, the ferocity of fire, the sharpness of wind, and the fluidity of water would all be embodied in the Dragonoids.

The Ant-men also possessed the characteristics of natural creatures. If this was no coincidence, then these two types of alchemical creatures, the Dragonoids and the Ant-men, shared some special connection, one that very likely represented a technological innovation from the Alchemical Empire.

Victor imagined a scenario: tens of thousands of years ago, during the later period of the Alchemical Empire, the laws of the world grew more constricting, and the Creator was gradually revoking access to the Elemental Sea. Exceptionally powerful extraordinary creatures began to weaken, their forms changing and their procreative abilities increasing. Under such circumstances, could Dragon Warriors still consolidate void element to perform super-sized Dragon Beast transformations?

It might have been possible then, but it certainly wouldn’t be in the future!

Traditional high-level alchemical creature templates were constrained by the changing laws and faced obsolescence.

Certain alchemists realized this. They proposed an entirely new approach: replace artificial settings with natural law to create new alchemical units with the characteristics of natural creatures, capable of adapting to the changing laws.

Unorthodox innovators are often seen as heretics. In their explorations, they were bound to make mistakes, some of which were probably quite severe. Victor could imagine the difficult circumstances those alchemists faced. One of them had gone to the Misty Mountains, secretly conducting innovative experiments.

Designing entirely new alchemical creatures was obviously not going to be easy.

The most difficult problem the Misty Mountains alchemist faced was likely how life forms would evolve under natural law.

If an alchemist had mastered all the future changes of natural law, he would already be the Creator. Why would he need to continue researching alchemical creatures?

Since he couldn’t grasp the changes in natural law, how could he determine the life forms of the future?

The Misty Mountains alchemist adopted a method that was both laborious and simple. Based on his own knowledge and experience, he deduced and pieced together hundreds of biological models. These creatures might conform to the natural laws of the future, but most of them were likely incorrect.

The remaining selection process was left to natural law. The Misty Mountains alchemist planned to load the information contained in the blood of ancient creatures into his designed models, allowing them to naturally evolve into brand-new alchemical units.

Victor didn’t know if that alchemist had succeeded back then, but tens of thousands of years later, his academic legacy had found success through Alchemy Tower No. 7.

However, he wasn’t the only successful alchemist. Another innovative alchemist deep in the Endless Forest had created the Ant-man Empress but had made a mistake—he had allowed the Ant-man Empress to consolidate the Soul Fire units of an Alchemy Tower.

“To think I’m the one who has to correct the mistakes you all made… The wonders of fate truly move me to tears.”

Victor examined the Marvelous Crystal in his hand, a sense of absurdity washing over him.

This Marvelous Crystal from the Misty Mountains did not contain the sealed blood of any ancient species. The Tower Spirit, the King, had assessed its value as zero. Victor had kept it for several years. No matter if he bit it, burned it, or struck it with an axe, he couldn’t damage it in the slightest. Over the past few days, Victor had even tried soaking the crystal in the blood of different animals, but it still showed no reaction.

In reality, this Marvelous Crystal was not the same type as the one that sealed the Ancient Dragon Blood. Although they looked very similar, the tiny runes inside were completely different.

The void element runes displayed by the Alchemy Tower were impossible to memorize or describe, but the runes inside these two Marvelous Crystals could be described by Victor. However, they were three-dimensional runes—tiny and complex, difficult for an ordinary person to even distinguish clearly with the naked eye. Although Victor could see them clearly, he had no idea what these three-dimensional runes meant.

The Marvelous Crystal left behind by the alchemist might contain unimaginable mysteries, representing the ultimate power and authority, but if it couldn’t be unlocked, it was just a pretty crystal and nothing more.

Victor sighed silently, casually placed the Marvelous Crystal in his desk drawer, and picked up a small golden bell on the desk, giving it a shake.

“My lord, what are your orders?” An attendant pushed the door open and entered, asking respectfully.

The footsteps, not particularly familiar, had been pacing for a long time in the corridor and on the stairs outside the study. Victor hadn’t paid them any mind at first, but now that he had a moment, he was curious to see what this person wanted to say to him.

“Go and call Shirley in… She’s at the top of the stairs in the hallway.”

“Yes.”

The attendant took his leave. A moment later, a young handmaiden entered the study. Holding up her skirt, she curtsied gracefully to Victor and said timidly, “Good day, Master…”

She wore a long, silver-gray dress of spider silk, the tips of her dainty, heeled shoes peeking out from under the hem. Her silky, lustrous golden hair was tied back in a ponytail with a ribbon. She wore no jewelry, dressed in the standard attire for a handmaiden at Silver Moon Manor. Her skin was snow-white and delicate, her neck long and slender. The simple dress was made exceptionally alluring by the graceful curve of her figure. When she raised her head, even Victor felt his eyes brighten. It was a young, beautiful face, looking to be only about sixteen, still possessing a girlish innocence yet beautiful enough to make most women jealous.

Victor sighed inwardly. The little girl who had once dozed off on his lap had finally blossomed into a graceful and exquisitely beautiful young woman. He smiled and asked, “Shirley, you’ve been pacing outside for quite a while. Is there something you wanted to tell me?”

“Ma… Master, I…” Shirley’s heart began to pound wildly at the sight of Victor’s smile. A blush crept up her face and she couldn’t help but lower her head, her fair, slender fingers twisting together as she stammered, “I was just polishing the stair railing, so…”

The young woman’s bashful demeanor at that moment was remarkably similar to Lilia’s in the past. Although her figure far surpassed that of the teenage Lilia, Victor had no desire to get entangled in more trouble. His smile vanished as he said coolly, “If there’s nothing, then… you may go back to your work.”

“Yes…” Shirley nodded habitually and obediently started for the door. But after just two steps, she abruptly remembered the reason she had come to see her master. A wave of regret, shyness, and a hint of expectation washed over her. Her face flushed red, and she stopped in her tracks, unwilling to move.

Victor’s mind was as clear as a mirror; he knew what the young woman was thinking.

A month ago, the current Marquis Sorim—Brandon and Shirley’s nominal father—had suddenly fallen ill and passed away. A priest who examined his body found that Marquis Sorim had died of poisoning. His Majesty the King was furious upon hearing the news and ordered a thorough investigation into the marquess’s murder. After a careful inquiry, Aerie Fortress’s Household Department determined that the person who poisoned the marquess was his heir. The religious inquisition formally intervened, sentencing the marquess’s eldest son and his family to exile. King Edward issued a decree denouncing House Sorim for the vile crime of assassinating their own blood relative, stripping them of their Marquessate and demoting them to a Viscountcy.

And so, House Sorim, which had once dominated the Southern Realm, disintegrated after losing its suzerain, and Marquis Chepman formally became the leader of the kingdom’s southern families.

The fate of House Sorim had been sealed the moment the old Marquess Sorim failed in his attempt to charge the Elemental Sea. In truth, most of the Sorims were properly settled and were not implicated. As for Marquis Sorim himself, living past seventy as a regular noble wasn’t exactly a short life. The truly unlucky ones were his eldest son’s family, which numbered only a few dozen people.

Victor wasn’t interested in the cause of Marquis Sorim’s death, but once the Chepman family completed their fief exchange, they stopped supplying Laketon with soft silver ore.

Years ago, Copper City’s supply of soft silver ore to Laketon was a supplementary agreement Victor had required Marquis Sorim to sign when he took in Brandon and Shirley. Now that Marquis Sorim was dead and the fiefs had been exchanged, Copper City had a new master, and the soft silver supply agreement was naturally void.

However, the fact that the Chepman family dared to disregard His Highness Randell’s prestige was enough to leave the other nobles dumbfounded.

Marquis and Marchioness Chepman hadn’t done this to target Victor, but rather to set a trap for their own daughter. The two soft silver ore veins in Copper City were now under Gillian’s management. It was she who had ordered the supply agreement terminated, and then she had excitedly run off to negotiate a new one with Victor.

If His Highness Randell had been enraged, the silly girl would surely have lost her position as the Chepman family heir. To appease His Highness Randell’s wrath, Marquis Chepman might have even kicked Gillian out. If Victor had nodded, the Young Lady Gillian would have become a vassal lord of the Centaur Hills.

Marquis Chepman had thought it all through very well. Everyone knew that the Raging Wind Sword Saint doted on the Chepman family’s eldest daughter. His Highness Randell would not let Gillian be wronged. He would swear fealty to His Majesty the King, while his eldest daughter served His Highness Randell. By hedging its bets, the Chepman family could stabilize its new position.

Victor could understand Earl Chepman’s predicament. After all, it was almost impossible for Gillian to bear children with him. How could she inherit the family with no offspring?

And Victor truly couldn’t bear to see Gillian wronged or have her suffer the momentary pain of being sold out by her family. So, Earl Chepman had miscalculated again. Victor signed a new agreement that left Gillian overjoyed, and after staying at Silver Moon Manor for a few days, the Young Lady Chepman happily returned home.

Victor had not expected this cruel political storm to make the two youngsters, Brandon and Shirley, so restless.

In truth, Brandon and Shirley couldn’t be blamed for letting their imaginations run wild. They had been with Victor for many years but had yet to be granted a family surname, meaning they were not yet nobles in the true sense of the word.

Before the old Marquess Sorim charged the Elemental Sea, his backup plan had been to send his several illegitimate children to be raised by various great families, hoping House Sorim could rise again with their help. If Sylvia ever needed to support a family to act as a political buffer with the Royal Family, Brandon Sorim would be a good choice. As for Shirley, she was truly a gift from the old Marquess Sorim to Victor, but the old Marquess had never expected Victor to reach the Saint realm. It wasn’t that female knights below the Gold rank held no appeal for a Highness like Randell, but for one to be his lover would be a sheer waste.

Victor had already caused two silver female knights to be childless; whether Nicole and Sophia could bear his offspring in the future was also a question. He didn’t want to bring lifelong regret to another female knight. Besides, he had watched Shirley grow up. Even if he felt a faint affection for her, it was like that of a father or an older brother—certainly not a lover.

“Are you still not going to leave?” Victor said, deliberately putting on a stern face.

He had severely underestimated the extraordinary charisma of his Sun Elf bloodline and overestimated Shirley’s self-control. After all, she was a young woman experiencing her first crush, not a high-ranking female knight accustomed to dealing with him.

As expected, Shirley stared at Victor in a daze, her beautiful eyes filled with a mesmerized expression. She walked over to Victor, knelt on the floor, and pressed her burning cheek against his knee, murmuring, “Master, I am willing to serve you, just like My Lady Elina.”

The young woman had summoned all her courage, but Victor was groaning inwardly. Just as he was at a loss for what to do, the cheerful patter of footsteps ran to the study door.

“I have something important to report to Master.”

Besides the Alchemical Soldiers, few people in Silver Moon Manor could stop Beldina. The door creaked open and the little chubster burst in. Seeing Shirley standing beside her master with a flushed face, her eyes instantly went wide with curiosity. “Shirley, what are you and Master doing?”

Victor cleared his throat and asked, “What important matter do you have to report to me?”

Beldina seemed to have figured something out. She puffed out her cheeks, shot Shirley a glare, then held up her skirt to curtsy. “Grandpa Miller sent Bel to tell Master that he is waiting for him in the small chapel.”

“Mm, that is indeed an important matter.” Victor nodded, stood up, straightened his collar, and walked towards the door, saying calmly, “I’ll go find him now.”

After Victor left the study, Beldina turned her head and glared fiercely at the bashful Shirley, lowering her voice to ask, “Were you trying to seduce Master?”

The young woman smiled without a word. Beldina immediately pointed at her and threatened, “You’re done for! I’m going to tell My Lady on you… You’d better suck up to me right now and give me all your snacks for next month. Only then will I keep your secret.”

Shirley let out a chuckle, beautiful as a blooming flower. She reached out and pinched Bel’s cheek, saying softly, “Actually, it was My Lady Nicole who asked me to find Master… I don’t want to be a Silver Knight’s personal handmaiden and have my Knight’s Path cut short. Only Master can protect me, but I really want to…”

“Never mind, little sister Bel, you’re still young. There are many things you don’t understand…”

With her heart full of worries, the exquisitely beautiful young woman left the study. Beldina puffed up her cheeks, stomped her feet repeatedly, and said resentfully, “What’s so great about you… So you’re taller than me? Master likes Bel the best, he doesn’t like you… Besides, I’m the older sister, you’re the little sister. All of you are little sisters…”

Equally full of melancholy, Bel sat down in Victor’s chair, cupping her chubby face in her hands and stewing for a while.

As she looked down, she noticed that a drawer wasn’t fully closed. She leaned over curiously and sniffed. She didn’t smell any snacks, but she saw a crystal emitting a soft glow.

“What’s this?”

Bel took out the crystal, holding it in her hand to examine it closely. The colors in her eyes began to shift, the frequency increasing rapidly. With a boom, a flood of information rushed into Beldina’s mind, causing her to faint and collapse onto the desk.

Barely fifteen minutes later, Bel awoke from her stupor. She gave a big, drowsy yawn, wiped the drool from the corner of her mouth with her sleeve, and saw the crystal that had fallen to the floor. She slowly recalled what had just happened, quickly picked up the crystal, put it back in the drawer, gathered her skirts, and scurried out of the study like a frightened little animal.

She didn’t know that the runes inside the crystal had already rearranged themselves.

Chapter 725: Serpent Fiends and Ambition

In the main chamber on the top floor of Laketon Castle, an Oilwood charcoal fire danced in the fireplace, filling the room with a cozy warmth. Lilia, dressed in a loose, thin silk nightgown, her soft, snow-white feet bare, was curled up in a high-backed chair in a posture that was most comfortable but decidedly unladylike. With a goose quill in hand, she was ceaselessly annotating the documents on the table.

Ever since she had ignited her fire of the mind, Lilia had moved her office from the town administration hall to the largest room on the top floor of Laketon Castle. Although the castle’s lighting and ventilation were poor, the room was spacious enough and free of meddlesome people. Here, she didn’t need to worry about her decorum and could work however she pleased.

A castle was a symbol of a family’s power, and most lords handled their family affairs within its walls. Lilia used to dislike the castle’s gloomy and oppressive atmosphere, preferring the liveliness of the administration hall. Now, however, she found the bustling hall filled with unpleasant odors and had come to favor the castle’s quiet solemnity.

After circling a few questionable items on an invoice, Lilia set down her quill and her fingertips slid toward the coffee cup at her side. Suddenly, a bang came from the large oak door. Lilia looked up at the closed door. The usual quiet persisted both inside and outside the room; the guards and sword-wielding handmaidens outside did not enter. She was startled for a moment and instinctively pulled an Adamantine shortsword from under the table, but then she relaxed.

Laketon Castle currently stored several million gold coins and was heavily guarded and on high alert. A senior knight under Nicole’s command led six apprentice knights and one hundred and twenty Elite Soldiers stationed inside and outside the castle. On Lilia’s floor alone, there were thirty guards and four sword-wielding handmaidens.

Among these retainers, ten were Elite Guards secretly trained by the family, proficient in both the Gryphon and Gray Wolf Combat Techniques, their strength comparable to initial-rank Knights. They were led by the veteran Elite Guard, Kane, and were specifically responsible for Lilia’s protection. They guarded the stairways, corridors, and doors. No one could pass through the corridors and enter this room without alerting them.

…Except for Victor.

Lilia got up from her chair, her bare feet padding across the bright, polished redwood floor, and turned into the small bedroom partitioned off by a bookshelf, only to find her husband sitting on the edge of the bed as expected. She raised a slender hand to her ample chest as if she were a delicate noblewoman who had been frightened, yet the corners of her mouth curved up into a joyous smile. She bounded lightly toward Victor and said in a sweet voice:

“Darling, you scared me… How come I didn’t see you come in?”

However, the Victor sitting on the edge of the bed abruptly vanished from her sight. Caught off guard and with her body in mid-air with no leverage, Lilia looked as if she was about to tumble sideways onto the bed. Yet, she managed to extend her toes mid-flight, tapping the edge of the bed and vaulting over it in a fluid motion like a glider, landing on her feet on the other side.

The bedroom was dimly lit, and Victor was nowhere to be seen. The previous scene seemed to have been an illusion. Lilia focused her mind, dispelling the chill that rose within her, and walked silently out of the small bedroom, but there was no one in the living area either.

“Darling, you’re very confident now. When something happens, you don’t even call for your guards.”

A familiar voice came from behind her. Lilia turned to see Victor sitting in his original spot, watching her with a grin.

“You brute, why did you have to scare me?” She raised her beautiful eyebrows, darted to her husband’s side, and raised a fist as if to strike him.

Victor caught the soft, pink fist and pulled the annoyed yet coquettish Lilia into his arms, teasing, “You were the one who pretended to be scared first. Of course, I had to give you a real scare, otherwise I…”

Before he could finish, Lilia’s lips were on his.

After a long, tender moment with her husband, Lilia, her gaze like rippling water, asked curiously, “Darling, how did you disappear just now?”

“In the instant you blinked, I moved into your blind spot, just like becoming invisible.” Victor smiled slightly and shrugged his shoulders. “I was hoping to see my Lilia panic and scream… a pity. You’ve grown stronger now. You’re not that little rabbit you used to be.”

Remembering how Victor used to love teasing her like this, Lilia felt a warmth in her heart. She pouted her red lips and said coquettishly, “I am still just as weak in My Lord’s presence… You must cherish Lilia just like you did before.”

“Weak… your strength is indeed weak, but it’s your mind that has grown stronger.”

A young child loves to hide and play in narrow corners because they instinctively choose an environment they can effectively control. Vast, lofty spaces tend to make people feel small, which is why the prayer halls in churches are generally designed to be very tall—it’s a design that plays on human psychology and fear.

Lilia moving her office to Laketon Castle and occupying the largest room by herself was a sign that her self-confidence had swelled.

Of course, now that Lilia had ignited her fire of the mind, it would not be an easy task even for an initial-rank Knight to defeat her. A senior apprentice knight who could resonate with eleven Elemental Nodes would certainly be no match for her now.

However, despite the qualitative change in Lilia’s personal strength, in Victor’s eyes, it was merely an inflation of self-confidence.

“Why are you in this room all alone? If you encounter a similar emergency, you won’t even have time to call for the guards,” Victor chided her with a serious expression.

Seeing that Lilia looked a little unconvinced, he smiled gently and added, “Darling, the fire of the mind has different levels. I don’t want to discourage you, but the fire you’ve ignited is still at the most basic stage. Your mind combines with external force, allowing you to begin to tap into your inner potential, but you have yet to achieve a trinity of mind, external force, and inner potential, operating flawlessly. When the fire of the mind reaches that level, even a light touch can instantly unleash terrifying power, barely reaching the standard of a mid-rank Bronze Knight.”

“Is my brother’s fire of the mind at that level?”

“Narsen? No, his fire of the mind has already reached the highest realm. He is just one step away from a qualitative change.” Victor shook his head with a smile. “What does it mean for the mind to be limitless while the body is finite? When the power of your mind breaks through your body’s shackles and can connect with an external target, you can perceive every one of the target’s movements, the subtle changes in their mind, external force, and inner potential. You can even interact with external information like sounds, terrain, and air currents. ‘Fire of the Mind, illuminating the darkness’—that is the highest realm of the fire of the mind.”

“The fire of the mind of a senior knight is generally at this realm. If your fire of the mind reached the level of a senior knight, even if you had just blinked, the Raging Wind Sword Saint wouldn’t have been able to play ‘sudden disappearance’ in front of you.”

Lilia was stunned, her tone laced with disappointment. “So the gap between a mortal and a Knight can never be closed.”

Victor first nodded, then shook his head. “The Paths are different, so the evolutions are different. A Knight’s fire of the mind comes from the balance of elements, while an ordinary person’s relies entirely on the power of their mind and Bloodline. Above the senior knight rank, a Knight’s power of the mind communicates with the outside world, manifesting void elements and perceiving elemental changes; an ordinary person, on the other hand… a more accurate term would be precognition.”

“My brother’s Combat Intuition,” Lilia interjected. She was no mere ornament and had her own determination and understanding when it came to power.

Victor nodded at Lilia in approval, then said seriously, “The combat intuition that evolves from danger precognition and the combat intuition brought about by the fire of the mind are two concepts that are easily confused… Fortunately, the two spiritual characteristics can be integrated, becoming even sharper, representing the peak of an ordinary person’s fire of the mind. Narsen has reached this realm. He can foresee an enemy’s dangerous moves in advance, while his mind reflects the subtle changes in the enemy’s mind, external force, and inner potential like a mirror.”

“If he were to take another step, he would be able to forcefully impose ‘precognition’ onto an opponent.”

“Impose precognition onto an opponent?”

“That’s right… He stands still, yet his spirit and will have already rushed toward the enemy. The opponent thinks Narsen has unleashed a fierce and sharp straight thrust, but that is a false premonition. Tell me, what do you think happens next?”

“Narsen would cleave him in two with a single strike!” Lilia paused, then asked wistfully, “This is the Touch of the Mind… Can I also reach this realm?”

“Anyone who has ignited the fire of the mind has a chance to master the Touch of the Mind… but I’m afraid you can’t.” Victor explained with a smile, “To master the Touch of the Mind, you must first have a pure mind.”

Dejected and lost, Lilia came back to her senses and sighed faintly. She had once grasped for power to please her husband. Now, power had become an indispensable part of her life. If she pursued strength for the sake of power, her mind could not be called pure, and she would be stuck at the realm of the fire of the mind.

If I master the Touch of the Mind, will Victor love me a little more? No, as long as I’m doing it to please Victor, I still won’t be able to elevate my spiritual realm… At this thought, Lilia couldn’t bring herself to look Victor in the eye.

Could this be considered a shifting of her affections?

Victor saw Lilia’s evasive gaze, full of shame and unease, and understood her thoughts as if they were his own. At the same time, he found it a little amusing.

Lilia was now more passionate about power than she was about him, yet Victor could accept it calmly. Their positions had never been equal. He couldn’t give Lilia a perfect marriage. To put it bluntly, Victor didn’t care how much Lilia loved him. What he wanted was, first and foremost, loyalty, and second, ability. Love was more of a bonus. It was precisely because of these feelings that Lilia was able to grasp power. That being the case, how could she ever be disloyal to Victor?

Lilia’s guilt, in turn, made Victor feel a trace of shame. He comforted her in a gentle voice, “Darling, the Touch of the Mind comes in many forms. The one Narsen pursues is not the most powerful. I know of one that would be very suitable for you.”

Lilia’s eyes lit up, and she pressed, “Will… will that be helpful to you?”

“Darling, I have never doubted that you have always been the most helpful to me, even more so than Narsen,” Victor said earnestly.

Hearing her husband’s affirmation, Lilia’s face instantly lit up with a smile. She said softly, “Darling, I’ll listen to whatever you say. What kind of Touch of the Mind are you talking about?”

“Growing a few more pairs of eyes and ears,” Victor said mysteriously.

Lilia, sharp as a tack, blinked and immediately understood Victor’s meaning. She hesitated, “Those four sword-wielding handmaidens are from Rose Manor, and we’re not very close… The family’s Elite Guards are all men, and I can’t very well have a few men as my personal guards, can I? Otherwise, you could give Macy back to me…”

With power came influence. Lilia had power, but she did not yet have her own force of confidants. The sword-wielding handmaidens trained at Rose Manor were adequate, but nothing more. There was always a barrier between them and Lilia, making them unsuitable as her personal guards. The Alchemical militia were absolutely loyal, but they were too rigid, and many delicate tasks could not be entrusted to them. On the other hand, for Victor to have men serve as Lilia’s Personal handmaidens would be an insult to the Gold-Eyed Earl’s personal handmaidens.

Victor nodded and said, “I have important plans for Macy, so I can’t give her back to you. Quicksilver Manor recently took in a batch of exceptionally talented young girls. Find some time to go and select ten of them to be trained as sword-wielding handmaidens. I will bear the cost of all the resources they need, including granting you five slots to reforge one’s body every year. In addition, you will receive a fixed share of The Golden Company’s year-end dividend, which will serve as a source of funding for training your personal guards, and I guarantee it will be no less than six thousand Gold Sols. If it is less than six thousand, the difference can be covered from my private treasury.”

Lilia was overjoyed. She threw her arms around Victor and gave him a fragrant kiss, her eyes curving into crescents as she said, “Victor, you’re so good to me…” Then she frowned. “My personal guards should have a title… what would sound good?”

Victor enthusiastically offered suggestions, “Lilia’s Shadows…”

“No way! That’s too embarrassing…”

“The Claws of the War Bear?”

“Heh heh… Darling, I don’t think I’ll ask you for help with names.”

Victor flopped back onto the bed and said weakly, “Alright, you can decide for yourself. Whatever you like is fine.”

Lilia thought for a good while, then suddenly said, “Serpent Fiends… Darling, what do you think of the title ‘Serpent Fiends’?”

In legends, Serpent Fiends were fearsome monsters whose gaze was lethal. But in reality, Serpent Fiends were only large beasts on the level of a spotted tiger, and they were a species that could be tamed. By naming her personal guards ‘Serpent Fiends,’ Lilia was being discreet, yet it was also filled with a certain expectation—a hope that they were, or could become, extraordinary beings.

“Not bad… I mean, it’s fine.” Victor replied perfunctorily, propping himself up with one arm. He frowned and asked, “Darling, while I’ve been away from home, has old man Miller been acting strangely at all?”

“…Has he been frequently asking you about the youth-preserving secret art I designed for you, Elina, and the others?”

Chapter 726: C-section Surgery

Victor first went to the small church in Laketon to see Father Miller before visiting Lilia at Laketon Castle.

This time, upon returning to the Randell Fief, Victor had no intention of secretly meeting with Father Miller. After stepping into the Saint’s realm, Victor had come to understand Sylvia’s indifferent attitude toward Miller.

Only the weak pray for a prophet’s guidance, for they cannot grasp their own destiny. A true powerhouse can lay the groundwork for the future, decide their own path, and sway the fates of others. It was like the lottery issued by the Mutual Aid Association: the poor hoped to know the next grand prize number, while His Highness Randell could manipulate the winning numbers.

Although Victor could not know everything about the future’s course, a powerhouse’s mentality would not permit him to rely on prophecy. Besides, was Father Miller truly omniscient and omnipotent?

The Raging Wind Sword Saint’s answer had been a resounding no.

That being the case, there was no need for Victor to pester Father Miller with endless questions. In fact, Miller had always been against him doing so. On one hand, submitting to the arrangements of fate was tantamount to surrender; if Victor were to do so, he could never become a Saint-realm expert. On the other hand, Miller believed Victor had the ability to disrupt his Great Divination.

Therefore, Miller treated Victor as an equal. If he were to actually prophesy the future for Victor and tell him what to do, that would be an act of malice. It was something Sylvia would never tolerate; the tacit understanding between the three top-tier extraordinary powerhouses would be shattered, and they might even be pushed into a situation of sharp confrontation.

Victor had reason to believe Miller had been secretly protecting him from the harm of some evil god for a long time. The Shadow Council not daring to set foot in the Centaur Hills to seek the York family’s support was probably also Miller’s doing behind the scenes. This extraordinary Spirit Priest had many other little-known secrets, but since he had shown sufficient goodwill—even Victor’s creation of the Mind Bloodline secret art and his own breakthrough to the Legendary realm had received Father Miller’s strong support—Victor should maintain a considerable degree of trust and respect for him.

Since Miller did not want the Raging Wind Sword Saint to interfere with the groundwork of his prophecy, it was best not to probe him any further.

Victor decided to henceforth regard Miller only as a friend of equal standing. Unfortunately, the old man Miller was always somewhat wary of him. This was because His Highness Randell had a habit of analyzing a great deal of information from a single simple matter, using it to fill his “jigsaw puzzle,” and then using that puzzle to reverse-deduce information and arrive at more conclusions.

One had to be exceedingly careful when talking to His Highness Randell, though perhaps even caution was useless. The old priest always seemed a little exasperated.

The nature of the X-3 was calculation and deduction; it was almost an instinct for Victor. Even his Mind Bloodline Talent Tree possessed the traits of precise calculation and deductive correction. Victor himself couldn’t do much about it.

Father Miller had been avoiding Victor these past few days, and Victor hadn’t taken the initiative to seek him out to reminisce. It was a rare occasion for Father Miller to request a meeting today, and it just so happened that Victor needed to escape Shirley’s heartfelt confession, so he went to the small church in Laketon.

They had barely exchanged a few words before Miller asked Victor about a certain Mind Bloodline secret art. Upon hearing it described, Victor immediately knew it was the youth-preserving secret art he had taught the sisters, Lilia and Elina.

Victor didn’t press Miller on why he was interested in the youth-preserving secret art. He told Miller about its effects and its drawback of causing infertility, in full detail, and even specifically emphasized that this secret art was only effective on women.

Miller’s expression at that moment was a picture. He seemed to have considered the youth-preserving secret art to be something incredible, only to be greatly disappointed by the result. He grumbled and shooed Victor away.

Why was the old man Miller so interested in an advanced secret art?

Victor’s old habit of digging to the root of things and extrapolating was impossible to change. He didn’t probe Miller, but instead came to find Lilia to understand the situation, attempting to analyze what Miller was up to from the side.

Lilia recalled for a moment, nodded, and began to speak, “Around the Season of Earth this year, Father Miller started paying attention to the youth-preserving secret art we were practicing. But by then, I had already switched to practicing the Gryphon Combat Technique and only practiced the youth-preserving art occasionally. Six months ago, I ignited my fire of the mind. My Lady Nicole held a celebratory banquet for me, and Father Miller came to congratulate me and seriously inquired about the youth-preserving secret art. I didn’t think much of it at the time and told him all my insights on practicing it. But I discovered he already knew quite a bit about the art. Afterwards, I asked Elina and Alice, and they said Father Miller had asked them about it too.”

Victor pondered this and asked, “Did you ask him why he wanted to know about the youth-preserving secret art?”

“I did,” Lilia nodded, her expression turning odd, and she finally couldn’t help but laugh. “Father Miller said he suspected the Mind Bloodline secret art you taught him wasn’t as good as the one we were practicing, and he wanted to compare the differences between the two. I suspect he either forgot the secret art you tailored for him, or… he was seeking the youth-preserving secret art for Priestess Atolia of the Monastery.”

“Atolia? For Miller?” Victor’s slightly pointed ears perked up, and his eyes lit up with enthusiastic interest. “I remember that Lady Atolia is forty-seven, right? Though she’s a bit older, her looks and figure are both fine, and she’s well-maintained… Rumor has it that she’s proud, pious, and rigid, making her difficult to get along with. She never married and didn’t find favor in the Holy See. She was only sent to the monastery in the Randell Fief at the age of forty-two, where she holds only an ordinary position. How could she have taken a liking to old man Miller?”

No more than five people knew Miller’s true identity, and Victor didn’t dare send people to monitor him. Nor did he believe Pontiff Clement would have the guts to arrange a partner for a God-favored of the Lord of Radiance. Lilia had always thought Miller was just an ordinary second-rank priest. Although he served as Laketon’s resident priest, a position equivalent to the Gold-Eyed Earl in the Randell Fief, the family’s upper echelons, including Nicole, were more focused on the fifth-rank priest Dayne. No one would report Miller’s private affairs to Victor.

“It was about two years ago… A pregnant woman from a tenant household was having a difficult childbirth. Priestess Atolia could only cut open her belly to deliver a pair of twins, but the mother was bleeding uncontrollably. Atolia’s healing divine arts were of no use, and just as the woman was about to die, the Village head took out a healing potion concocted by Father Miller and gave it to her. She actually survived.”

“Ever since then, Priestess Atolia has often visited Father Miller. They later performed C-sections on pregnant women several more times, developing a set of delivery methods that barely used divine arts… This matter even alarmed Bishop Pello, who commended Priestess Atolia and Father Miller on behalf of the Church. However, Father Miller gave the credit to Atolia, and she went to the Theocracy of Ayr to be promoted to a level four priest. After Atolia returned, everyone could see that there was something between them. At the very least, Priestess Atolia is very concerned with Father Miller’s daily life, and often… often helps him with his laundry.” Lilia covered her mouth and giggled. It seemed Atolia washing the old man’s clothes likely included his undergarments.

“…An extraordinary achievement worthy of being recorded in the annals of history. Priestess Atolia will surely leave a deep mark on history,” Victor said with admiration after a moment of silence.

Praise from the Raging Wind Sword Saint was no small matter. Lilia, not understanding, asked in surprise, “What?”

Victor had long since discovered that difficult childbirths were a significant factor limiting population growth. Although the Church had developed surgical procedures with the support of divine arts, including C-sections, these were not widespread. Only regular nobles and vassals were entitled to a priest’s care. The liege’s subjects and freemen at the bottom of society, fearing difficult births, were accustomed to taking cheap contraceptive herbs to avoid the risks of childbirth. This was also why Narsen and Linda had been together for years without children.

As a consequence of walking fully upright, the risk of difficult childbirth for human females was much higher than for other creatures. Even though the populace of the Randell Fief had stable lives, the problem of difficult births was never solved. This was especially true for monogamous tenant households, which had a lower capacity to withstand risks. Even if Laketon implemented measures to encourage childbirth, once they had a child, they would still find ways to avoid pregnancy. Many women missed their optimal childbearing years, and an accidental pregnancy would only increase the risk of a difficult birth, creating a vicious cycle.

Even on the Earth in Victor’s memories, the C-section could be called one of the greatest medical achievements. For Atolia, with Father Miller’s help, to have figured out a C-section surgery that barely used divine arts was equally momentous.

This greatness lay in its potential for popularization, something Lilia could not yet understand. Victor smiled, “Of course I don’t mean washing old man Miller’s laundry…” He paused, then asked with a serious expression, “How many cases of C-sections for difficult births has Lady Atolia performed in total? Was our Medical team involved in the entire process?”

Lilia was taken aback. She slipped out of her lover’s embrace and sat on the edge of the bed, saying with some uncertainty, “About six cases, I think… The Laketon Medical team helped out in all of them.”

“I’m afraid they were probably just assisting.” Victor shook his head in dissatisfaction. After a moment of thought, he said, “This matter is extremely important. I will mobilize the highest-priority medical personnel and Potion Masters in the Centaur Hills to form a team. They must learn Lady Atolia’s C-section surgery. You and Nicole are to go see Lady Atolia. Convey my respects to her, and please tell her that as long as she agrees to let the Medical team learn the C-section procedure, the Centaur Hills will bear all required costs and resources. We will also donate an offering of two hundred thousand Gold Sols to the Monastery. I can also write to the Holy See’s Curia to recommend her for promotion to fifth-rank priest. And if Lady Atolia needs the Raging Wind Sword Saint to lend a hand… that can be agreed to as well.”

He had even brought out the name of the Raging Wind Sword Saint. Using both carrot and stick, Victor was determined to succeed. Lilia rose and curtsied. “I… I’ll go find My Lady Nicole right now? Do you want to come back to Silver Moon Manor with me?”

The thought of Shirley at Silver Moon Manor gave Victor a bit of a headache. The young girl had mustered up all her courage to confess to him. Although the little foodie had interrupted her, the matter wasn’t over. She was in her most sensitive, vulnerable, yet most passionate period. Rejecting her harshly was not ideal, especially since Brandon and his sister were special and had considerable potential. They might one day become His Highness Randell’s right and left hands.

“Er… I plan to go to Aerie Fortress tonight to visit Catherine and Nana. I’ll be back the morning after next,” Victor said apologetically.

Lilia’s eyes flickered, and she gently bit her red lip, putting on a pitiful, aggrieved expression. Victor pulled this wife who had been with him the longest into his arms, comforting her with gentle words and personally helping her change her clothes. Only then did Lilia leave the room, satisfied.

After Lilia and her guards went down the stairs, Victor sat alone at his desk, seriously analyzing Father Miller’s intentions.

The old fellow was in love with the priestess?

Perhaps… But he definitely wasn’t asking about the youth-preserving secret art just to please Atolia!

Even if that was a factor, Victor had to consider Miller’s identity as a God-favored first and foremost. As a top-tier clergyman closest to the Lord of Radiance, Miller was equivalent to an angel. Victor had personally witnessed his angelic form; the might he possessed was unimaginable to ordinary people, and the things he could do were beyond the comprehension of even extraordinary beings. Victor even suspected that Princess Elizabeth Frederick’s disappearance was related to Miller. This was because a Legendary Wizard from the Shadow Council had attacked Elizabeth, and behind the Shadow Council, there might be the shadow of an evil god. Whenever an evil god was involved, Father Miller was bound to intervene.

The forces of the Church and the various kingdoms were all searching for Elizabeth. Victor had also dispatched Night Owl, the Rose Spies, and Quicksilver to investigate Princess Elizabeth’s whereabouts, but he had yet to receive any valuable information.

If Miller was behind it, it would only be normal that no one could find Elizabeth.

With this suspicion in mind, Victor believed Miller’s desire for an advanced Mind Bloodline secret art had nothing to do with love, nor with the Church.

The Church’s combat techniques and secret arts focused on the synergy between the mind and holy power. It was because the lord’s warriors lacked holy power that Victor had to research Mind Bloodline secret arts. Lilia practicing the Gryphon Combat Technique and igniting her fire of the mind was proof enough that Tournans’s level of research into combat techniques was in no way inferior to Victor’s. With the resources and heritage the Church had accumulated, plus a top-tier figure like Tournans, the Sacred Warriors were not lacking in sophisticated combat techniques and secret arts. If the Church were to introduce Bloodline power, the entire Sacred Warrior combat technique system would likely have to be rebuilt, which would be more trouble than it was worth.

Paladins had even less need for advanced Mind Bloodline secret arts, and of course, Princess Elizabeth of the Gold Bloodline didn’t need one either.

So, why was Miller interested in an advanced Mind Bloodline secret art?

Victor carefully reviewed every past detail about Father Miller but still couldn’t find any clues that connected. He did, however, discover that he and Miller were moving in tandem from opposite directions. His implementation of the public carriage, the tenant system, and the schools for general education had all increased the Church’s influence. Meanwhile, Miller tested him with the problem of refugee workers surviving the winter, and Victor built longhouses and procured wool and cotton coats. Miller pleaded with him to take care of tenant households, and Victor established the Mutual Aid Association. Now, Miller was even cooperating with Atolia to improve the C-section surgery. These were all things that strengthened the lord’s rule in areas where it was beyond the Church’s reach.

The difference was that Victor curried favor with the Church for his own benefit, while Miller did so because of his kind and benevolent nature.

Miller had a need for a Mind Bloodline secret art; he was bound to show his hand sooner or later. Victor was confident he could see through Miller’s intentions. He just needed to wait patiently.

As dusk fell, Victor summoned Caligula, preparing to travel to Aerie Fortress overnight to visit his beloved wife and daughter. He didn’t forget the Marvelous Crystal in his desk drawer.

After ordering an Alchemical Militia member to go to the study in Silver Moon Manor, retrieve the Marvelous Crystal, and place it in the secret vault, Victor quietly left Laketon with Aka, who still hadn’t eaten.

Chapter 727: Expanding the Domain

Victor had originally planned to spend the winter at Silver Moon Manor to be with Nicole and Lilia for a while, then move to Red Frost Tree Manor in the spring to reunite with Sylvia. However, Nicole just had to go and encourage Shirley to confess her feelings to His Highness Randall, forcing Victor to flee to Aerie Fortress to let the hot-headed Shirley cool down. In truth, Victor missed Catherine and their precious daughter, Princess Nana.

The Season of Water was a time for nobles to enjoy family life. Nana could already speak and walk; how could she spend the winter without her father’s company?

Among Victor’s partners, Sylvia was jealous only of Catherine. If Victor went to visit Catherine and her daughter, he absolutely had to make time to be with Sylvia, and of course, he couldn’t neglect the Gold-Eyed Earl, Countess Sophia. And so, His Highness Randall spent the entire winter scurrying back and forth between his spouses like a diligent fox. From Aerie Fortress to Goldwater City, from Goldwater City to Laketon, and then back to Aerie Fortress—a total journey of nearly 1,200 kilometers, yet Victor never tired of it, taking three to five hours with Caligula to travel from one place to another.

The ladies had grown accustomed to their lover returning at dawn and, after a few days’ stay, leaving quietly in the night. But the Church had some reservations about His Highness Randall’s behavior: even a Silver Knight shouldn’t travel alone, let alone the great Raging Wind Sword Saint.

Cardinal Saen entrusted Bishop Pello of the Centaur Hills to negotiate with His Highness Randall. Victor simply replied with a dismissive, “I’m just taking my servant out for a walk.”

Who could stop His Highness Randall from going for a walk? Even if his walks were a bit far…

And just like that, His Highness Randall passed a busy winter.

When spring came, and all things were rejuvenated, people left their warm homes to resume their work. With the family and the fief running once more, Victor finally had no time for his long walks.

Red Frost Tree Manor welcomed its master of the house, and the happiest person was, of course, Sylvia. Yet she remained displeased about Nicole prompting Shirley to confess to Victor.

“Darling, Nicole is challenging me… I ask you, when she challenges your wife, what should you do?”

Sylvia, dressed in a simple pink dress, stood with one hand on her hip. Even her aggressive posture was so beautiful one couldn’t look away.

Victor chuckled, suppressing the urge to pull this peerless beauty into his arms. He put down the letter in his hand, shrugged, and teased, “You and Trisley personally trained Nicole. I seem to recall you once saying you hoped Nicole could be like a lord. Now she’s a true lord, just as you wished. Why are you unhappy?”

“Naturally awakened female apprentice knights cannot be promoted to Knight before the age of twenty-four; they must marry a Great Knight of the family and bear children. I was the one who set this rule.” Sylvia lifted her elegantly curved chin and said relentlessly, “Nicole knew perfectly well that you couldn’t possibly accept Shirley, yet she deliberately hinted for her to confess to His Highness Randall. Now, no Great Knight dares to marry Shirley… All naturally awakened female apprentice knights in the family must abide by the rules I set. Why should Shirley be an exception?”

“But Nicole didn’t break any rules,” Victor said, shaking his head in rebuttal. “First, Shirley was originally a ‘gift’ from House Sorim to me. She has an obligation to serve me, regardless of whether I accept her service.”

“Second, Shirley is only sixteen; she’s still a long way from the marriageable age of twenty-four.”

“And finally…” Victor paused, then smiled. “Nicole feels that your rule is unfair to the Randall family… The Randall family has no Great Knights. Nicole has painstakingly trained three female apprentice knights at Silver Moon Manor, but they must serve the Silver Knights of other families? Shirley’s bloodline comes from the old Marquess Sorim; she can be considered Silver Moon Manor’s most promising female apprentice knight. I can understand why Nicole wants to keep her, and I believe the Great Knights of the Centaur Hills are all interested in marrying Shirley. I’m afraid they wouldn’t wait until she turns twenty-four… Darling, even though you made the rule, if Great Knights were to use their charm on Shirley, win her heart, and spirit her away from the Randall family, that wouldn’t be breaking the rules, would it?”

Sylvia couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his words. She pouted. “So you also think my demand for twenty-four-year-old female apprentice knights to serve Silver Knights is too cruel? Are you aware that before I took charge of the York family, low-bloodline female apprentice knights who failed to reach the Bronze-rank by twenty-one had to serve a Silver Knight? And look at Charlotte—Viscount Briart married her as soon as she turned eighteen, giving her no chance at all… I’ve already been very lenient by pushing back the marrying age for female apprentice knights by three years. Moreover, my requirement that naturally awakened female apprentice knights train at Rose Manor is precisely to prevent Great Knights from seducing young apprentices, just like Viscount Briart did with Charlotte.”

“I’m protecting them, understand?” Sylvia reached out with two long, slender fingers and pinched her husband’s ear, saying coquettishly, “You are the Guardian of the Centaur Hills now; you should be on my side… Make Nicole send all the female apprentice knights trained at Silver Moon Manor to Rose Manor.”

“Alright, alright, alright…” Victor reached out to wrap an arm around Sylvia’s supple waist, pulling her into his embrace. He said with a grin, “The others can go, but let’s make an exception for Shirley.”

“So no exceptions next time?” Sylvia shot her husband a flirtatious glance and asked softly.

Seeing Victor fall into silent contemplation, she sighed softly and raised an eyebrow with a wry smile. “Do you really think what Nicole did is good for Shirley?”

“Shirley’s bloodline is actually quite average. The chance of her becoming a Silver Knight is very small; even naturally advancing to Bronze-rank will be difficult. If she still hasn’t become a Bronze Knight by the time she’s thirty and has missed her prime childbearing years, who can she marry? Klaus from Silver Moon Manor?”

“That boy works hard enough, but he’s still a low-bloodline knight. Shirley could have served a noble Silver Knight and enjoyed a life of peace and prosperity, but now she can only marry a low-bloodline knight, bear low-bloodline offspring, and struggle for her little family, perhaps even participating in dangerous wars.”

“Nicole’s pride is exceedingly rare among female apprentice knights; very few would follow her example. The female apprentice knights at Rose Manor are much more willing to serve high-bloodline Silver Knights.”

Victor, of course, understood what Sylvia was saying. A single Shirley was insignificant to the Centaur Hills. What Sylvia and Victor were actually discussing was the family system, and most critically, Sylvia was in the process of transferring the power to make these rules to her husband.

Victor could decide when the female apprentice knights of the Centaur Hills would marry, but he felt Sylvia’s approach served the family’s interests. He nodded with a light laugh, “Darling, Nicole just wants to keep Shirley. She doesn’t mean to challenge you… If every lord below us thought only of the bigger picture, then we would be the ones with a headache, wouldn’t we?”

This was not the answer Sylvia wanted to hear. She loved it when Victor opposed her, then racked his brains to come up with a novel idea to solve the problems she faced.

If low-bloodline female apprentice knights had a slim chance of becoming full knights, they would naturally be willing to serve noble Silver Knights and bear pure-blooded descendants for the family. However, the Gold Potion, the Dawn Potion, and the Knight path Mind Bloodline secret art could change the fate of low-bloodline nobles, thereby shaking the foundations of the knight marriage system. This would also lead to an increase in the number of low-bloodline knights, while making it more difficult for Silver Knights to produce offspring.

When naturally awakened female apprentice knights had an over eighty percent chance of becoming experienced female knights—enjoying beauty, strength, wisdom, and delayed aging—then no one would be willing to give up their Knight’s Path for a comfortable and prosperous life serving a Silver Knight.

No one would deny that those of noble bloodline were the core of the family, the very source of knights. Regrettably, Bronze-rank female knights had a greater influence on their children’s bloodline. For the family to maintain a pure bloodline, it had to sacrifice the futures of its female apprentice knights.

Sylvia would never give up this opportunity for the family to soar, but she also had to ensure the stable legacy of the family’s bloodline. The old knight marriage system represented an old order and could no longer adapt to the new situation brought about by the Gold Potion and the Mind Bloodline secret art. If she had no choice, she would force the female apprentice knights to serve the family’s Great Knights. But the Centaur Hills clearly needed to establish a new marriage system to accommodate more low-bloodline knights and, using that as a starting point, form a complete and rational new order.

System Reform was a massive and complex undertaking. Sylvia rarely handled family affairs personally; as a Spirit Knight, the Queen of Roses was better at inspiring the abilities of her subjects. Only Victor’s wisdom and methods could surprise and delight her, leaving her utterly captivated.

Victor knew Sylvia as well as he knew himself. He smiled slightly and said, “Darling, a noble bloodline is not only the source of knights but also the core of a family’s ruling power. The marriage system for Silver Knights is of great importance. It cannot be changed, nor does it need to be.”

Sylvia’s eyes lit up, brightening the entire study. She asked with a radiant smile, “Have you had another breakthrough with your Mind Bloodline secret art?”

“A wonderful discovery.” Victor pointed to a pile of secret letters on the desk and said with great enthusiasm, “These letters contain intelligence on the Night Fiend Willie, compiled by the Night Owl and the Rose Spies, involving the testimony of several hundred individuals. Trisley organized and annotated this intelligence, but I went through it all again myself and finally found the reason why Willie became the Night Fiend…”

“The story begins twenty-one years ago…”

In a remote village in the Northern Prefecture of Gambis, the village head’s eldest son fell in love with a young woman from the Mountain folk. He was a vassal soldier trained by the lord and the commander of the village militia, holding considerable authority. He was able to overcome his family’s objections and marry his little wife, who came from a wildmen mountain stronghold. But the daughter of another vassal family in the village had long been smitten with the militia captain. Her beloved’s change of heart turned her love to hate, and her mind became twisted.

Not long after his marriage, the militia captain took his wife to visit her family in their mountain stronghold. Along the way, they were likely ambushed by a wandering Gnoll chief. The militia captain and the fourteen able-bodied militiamen with him were all killed, and among them was the vassal’s daughter’s younger brother. Thanks to her husband’s protection and her familiarity with the terrain, the Mountain folk wife survived. However, she never saw her attacker and couldn’t explain what had happened.

The paranoid, narrow-minded, and malicious vassal’s daughter wildly accused the Mountain folk woman in front of everyone, claiming she had killed her husband and a dozen able-bodied militiamen, and slandering her as a demon. The villagers who had lost their sons and nephews also took their anger out on the militia captain’s new wife. The village head had looked down on the Mountain folk girl from the start, and now, with the liege’s subjects in an uproar, he cooperated with the vassal’s daughter and pointed the finger at the young woman to divert the villagers’ fury from his own family.

The Mountain folk girl was isolated and alone; no one dared to speak up for her. The furious families were preparing to lynch her, but the village head’s wife discovered she was pregnant.

Killing a pregnant woman was against Church tenets. The villagers were all devout believers, and at the village head’s wife’s plea, they imprisoned the Mountain folk girl for the time being. But the vassal’s daughter still would not let her go. Every day, she found ways to curse, insult, and torment the Mountain folk woman.

Nine months later, the Mountain folk woman gave birth to a baby boy. The rumor that she was a demon was disproven, but by then, her mind had snapped. She would often mutter to herself, then burst into mad laughter, mumbling about killing everyone in the village. The village head’s wife no longer dared to protect her. She took her grandson and left the woman to fend for herself.

Not long after, the pitiful Mountain folk woman died of sorrow. In reality, she had been poisoned by the vassal’s daughter.

Even after killing her enemy, the vassal’s daughter was not satisfied. For the next decade and more, she relentlessly fabricated all sorts of evidence to frame and slander her enemy’s son as a demon.

First, she killed kittens and puppies, framing the young son. When he grew a little older, she began attacking children, then women, meticulously crafting the story of the Night Fiend. She even murdered the village head’s wife, who had been protecting her grandson. Because of her perseverance, an atmosphere of terror took root in the remote village, and eventually, everyone came to believe the rumors of the Night Fiend.

Finally, Willie truly became the Night Fiend.

Many villagers were killed by the Night Fiend Willie, yet the instigator lived to this day. The family spies, acting on His Highness Randall’s orders to investigate the Night Fiend, had no trouble prying the truth from the vassal’s daughter’s lips.

The truth came to light. The vassal’s daughter had single-handedly created the Night Fiend, and every villager had been her accomplice.

It was a tragic, twisted, and lamentable story. A bard could weave it into a long tale to earn the tears and anger of tavern audiences, along with bags and bags of silver coins. But what His Highness Randall valued was the mystery of the Law contained within the story. Stripping away the love and hate, it was, simply put, a case of a lie becoming reality.

“A lie told enough times can become fact?” Sylvia asked thoughtfully.

“In specific circumstances, yes,” Victor nodded and said with feeling. “If everyone believes you are a demon, you might truly become one… Those villagers were ignorant and foolish, deceived and manipulated by that venomous woman. They deserved to be killed by the Night Fiend.”

His tone shifted, and he smiled. “I, on the other hand, have to praise that vassal’s daughter. The lie of the Night Fiend she wove was almost perfectly self-consistent, and that is what created the Night Fiend Willie.”

“The case of the Night Fiend Willie has given me a precious inspiration.” Victor released Sylvia, stood up, and clasped his hands behind his back. “The Mind Bloodline secret art can be extended to the domain of pregnant women…”

Chapter 728: The Apostle’s Seed

“It’s difficult to change an adult’s mindset, but shaping a child’s character is much simpler. If we’re talking about shaping at the deepest level of the mind and bloodline, the easiest subjects are probably unborn children.”

On this point, Victor had actually witnessed at least two different types of examples.

Imosen’s cultivation of the third-generation Swiftbirds used his Aberration Wizardry. He first lightly induced Aberration in the egg-laying female birds, changing their bone, muscle, and internal structures. Then, he would remove the Swiftbird eggs for artificial incubation, cultivating war-fowl that met his master’s requirements. In truth, the third-generation Swiftbirds should be considered a new species. Their bones were hard, their muscles tough, and their digestive and reproductive systems were far more complex than ordinary Swiftbirds’. They didn’t need to frequently replenish their water, which dramatically improved their endurance.

The third-generation Swiftbirds had yet to be successfully cultivated, but Imosen had bred bear-dogs as fierce as savage beasts, which was enough to prove that his aberrant mother-incubation technique was feasible and becoming increasingly mature.

The second example was, of course, the Chief of The Faceless from Aerie Fortress, the old Wizard Tofwen. Imosen was still fumbling his way through the aberrant mother-incubation technique, whereas Tofwen’s bloodline purification methods were already highly refined. Even Victor and Roland were extraordinary beings carefully cultivated by Tofwen. Before Victor was born, his parents had begun taking potions personally concocted by the Master Tofwen, they just hadn’t been aware of it.

Sylvia had clearly thought of this as well. She tilted her head to look at the handsome and divinely charismatic Victor. She suddenly hugged her lover from behind, and her smile was like a blooming flower as she said, “I almost forgot, you’re the gift Aerie Fortress so carefully prepared for me.”

Victor didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He turned his head and said, “You should be focusing on the main point right now…”

“The main point is that my husband is about to plead with me…” Her translucent red lips brushed against Victor’s ear, her breath as fragrant as an orchid. She giggled. “You’ll have to work hard to convince me before I agree to cooperate with your experiment.”

“You’ll agree,” Victor said, full of confidence. He took Sylvia’s jade hands and led her to the round table on the open-air balcony, attentively pulling out a backed chair for her.

Sylvia covered her mouth to hide a snicker and sat down with elegant grace. “Your Insight talent can’t possibly reach the Master Tofwen’s level,” she asked. “Aerie Fortress’s secret art for purifying a fetus’s bloodline will soon be lost. What method are you planning to use to make a fetus without self-awareness purify its bloodline?”

Victor sat across from Sylvia and nodded. “The power of the mind, of course…” As he spoke, he pondered for a moment before shaking his head with a laugh. “The religious inquisition also investigated Night Fiend Willie’s case, but they didn’t pursue it as deeply as we did. When Aerie Fortress’s Household Department took Willie away, they didn’t even have much of a reaction. It seems Night Fiend Willie wasn’t worth the Church’s attention… In truth, the Church has long since mastered a similar secret art of the mind, and on a grander scale with more obvious effects.”

Sylvia raised her willow-like brows and pressed, “You mean… the Theocracy of Ayr?”

“That’s right.” Victor nodded and continued, “The Church’s clergy come from two sources. One is the believers and subjects from the Theocracy of Ayr; the other is the church attendants selected from commoners and Nobles… Take priests, for example. Priests from the Theocracy of Ayr are often called scholar-priests, while those not from the Theocracy are called commoner priests or court priests.”

“The Church advocates that all clergy are servants of the Supreme Lord and should address each other as brothers and sisters, emphasizing equality in status, at least on the surface. But the upper echelons of the Church are almost all scholar-priests, while commoner priests and court priests are not only fewer in number, but most are also low-rank clergy.”

“Besides the influence of the Monastery factions, we can’t deny that the clergy cultivated in the Theocracy of Ayr are indeed more attuned to holy power than the commoner clergy.”

Victor said with a serious expression, “There’s a huge disparity between the two, both in quantity and quality. For example, Ron the Sacred Warrior, whom I mentioned to you before—a quasi-saint and a fanatic. But Ron isn’t a Knight, nor was he a born Ferocious warrior. He comes from an ordinary clergy family in the Theocracy of Ayr… If my deductions are correct, the Church possesses a secret art for cultivating fanatics. The Theocracy of Ayr must have more than one outstanding individual like Ron.”

“Comparing this with Night Fiend Willie’s case, I found that the Theocracy of Ayr shares many points of common ground with that remote village. A relatively closed environment, a strong atmosphere of shared beliefs, a powerful collective mental desire… It’s like wine in a jar—the longer it’s stored, the more mellow it becomes.”

Sylvia frowned slightly. “If the parents are devout believers, their children will be too. The Theocracy of Ayr has a dense religious atmosphere, and its subjects are pious in their faith. I can understand all that… But look at the Night Fiend’s case. How could over one thousand villagers all reach a consensus that Willie was a Night Fiend, forming a mental desire powerful enough to trigger the Creator’s pan-consciousness?”

In a country where extraordinary beings and ordinary people coexist, society was severely fractured; the Nobles and Commoners lived in completely different worlds. Sylvia came from a minor family in the Kingdom of Faeath, so her understanding of the lower rungs of society was quite limited. She could watch with relish as a servant stole silverware from her house and find it entertaining, but she had absolutely no interest in understanding the reasons behind it.

A Spirit Knight’s wisdom might be as vast as the sea, but she was still completely baffled by domains with which she was unfamiliar.

Victor had memories from Earth and had once led refugees to develop a fief, so he could be considered an expert in this area. He smiled and said, “A powerful individual can be self-sufficient, but weaker individuals must rely on the power of the group, and are thus governed by herd mentality. And the greatest flaw of herd mentality is its foolishness… If the lead sheep falls off a cliff, the whole flock will follow; if a sea beast leader accidentally beaches itself, the other sea beasts will charge onto the shore one after another. Mortals with intelligence are no exception. Individually, they’re all very smart, but put them together and they’ll get into the habit of competing in stupidity.”

“Competing in stupidity?” Sylvia wrinkled her nose and shook her head with a laugh. “My love, it’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s that I can’t understand how people would compete to be stupid.”

Victor thought for a moment and said, “Do you remember the story I told you, ‘The Emperor’s New Clothes’?”

“I remember.” Sylvia nodded and pouted. “That’s an absurd story. How could there be such a foolish emperor, ministers, and subjects in reality?”

“Mortals are like that. They don’t dare to bear the consequences of their mistakes, so they get used to first denying their own errors. Even if they know they’ve been deceived, they hope others are even stupider than them, so that they can be the smartest one… Isn’t that competing in stupidity?” The corner of Victor’s mouth curled into a sarcastic smile. “Deceiving one person is hard, but deceiving a group is easy. I could order people to set up a scam, claiming that if you lend me money, you’ll get a twenty-percent share of the principal back every month. Of course, I can’t afford such high interest, but I would encourage the participants to pull more people into this scheme. The vast majority of them would know it’s a scam, but they’d believe others are definitely stupider than them. And so, all the participants would fall into the trap of deceit, and their numbers would only grow.”

“So that’s how it is. By thinking others are stupider than you, you become stupider yourself…”

Sylvia nodded and said with a smile, “It really is a competition of stupidity, not wisdom.”

Victor smiled faintly and said with a sigh, “There are objective reasons why mortals have this weakness of humanity. Knights can admit their mistakes and correct them because they have the ability to bear risks and rectify errors on their own. If someone used the scam I described to cheat a Knight out of one hundred gold coins, once the Knight realized he was deceived, he could afford the loss of one hundred gold coins, and he could also send men to catch the swindler and hang him from the gallows.”

“An ordinary person has neither the ability to catch the swindler nor can he afford to lose one hundred gold coins. So he cooperates with the swindler, pulling more people into the scam, hoping to rely on the power of the group to share the risk he bears, while looking for an opportunity to profit.”

“It’s precisely because ordinary people have such a poor ability to bear risks that they instinctively rely on the group and obey the herd mentality. Any voice that deviates from the group will be rejected by it, forcing the individual to face the unknown alone. So they feel fear, and because of this feeling of insecurity, no one in the group will easily admit they made a mistake, as it would lower their status within the group.”

The vassal’s daughter framed her rival in love and his son. No matter how cleverly it was done, flaws would eventually show over time, but no one in the village would step up to defend Willie. The root of the problem was that the Villagers had made a mistake from the very beginning, a mistake led by the Village head himself. Since even the Village head wouldn’t protect his own grandson, who would be willing to jump out and sing a different tune from everyone else?

Since everyone else was not at fault, the fault could only lie with Willie. However, the vassal’s daughter had fabricated a Night Fiend who was brutal, bloodthirsty, and took pleasure in killing—especially dangerous. Yet the Villagers still kept “Night Fiend” Willie in the village. Wasn’t that a paradox?

The Villagers suspected Willie wasn’t a “Night Fiend,” but they also hoped he truly was one, so they waited for him to kill one or two people to prove they were right.

There are so many people in the village. If my family is a little careful, surely he won’t come to kill us, right?

The weakness of humanity was laid bare. It was like boiling a frog in slowly heating water. Willie was the frog in the pot, but weren’t the Villagers as well?

Sylvia cupped her cheek, her tender eyes gazing at her lover. After a moment, she asked with a grin, “And then?”

Victor seized the opportunity. “And then, we learn from the examples of the Theocracy of Ayr and the Night Fiend, and we develop mid-rank Mind Warriors…” He took a deep breath, his eyes burning with fervor as he added, “And mid-rank Mind Warriors who possess mind talent.”

“Mind talent?” Sylvia asked in surprise. “Isn’t mind talent at the top of the Talent Tree? You haven’t even figured out the mid-level talents above the Root Talent, are you sure you can develop mind talents?”

Unfazed by his wife exposing his current limitations, Victor stood up, pumped his fist, and said with an invigorated expression, “My love, I was mistaken about one thing. I thought the Mind Warriors’ Talent Tree started with a root, grew a trunk, and finally a crown. That’s a human perspective and experience. But when Taelon Ruier created the Ancient Behemoths and helped them open up the physical world, he first differentiated their mental will, and then those different mental wills determined the Ancient Behemoths’ forms and Bloodline talents.”

“We always have a cause before we get a result, whereas the Creator first provides the result and then generates the cause…”

“Wait, a result first, then a cause?” Sylvia seemed to grasp something in the unseen world. She interrupted her lover, asking with a confused expression, “Is it really like that?”

Victor couldn’t explain the academic theories of his Earth to his wife. He thought and thought, then spread his hands and said in a very ‘prophetic’ manner, “The Creator is on high. He creates the laws of the world from the top down… God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and so there was the sun and the moon.”

“…Let there be light, and then there was the sun and the moon?” A clap of thunder echoed in the depths of Sylvia’s mind, giving her a fleeting glimpse of the hazy veil over the world’s laws. She realized what Victor was saying touched upon the very limits of the Elemental Sea. The impression was so profound and moving that she felt no need to rush to explore and excavate it. She nodded slightly and said, “It’s like how we desire a grand water project, so the scholars, stewards, and craftsmen below build an artificial canal over a thousand kilometers long. As for how they do it, or what difficulties they encounter, we have no need to know.”

“A very apt analogy.” Victor praised his wife, then changed the subject. “The mind is infinite, but life is finite. The Creator has already established the laws of the world; we can only conform to them and utilize them… That vassal’s daughter was very clever. The details of the Night Fiend she fabricated were all things Willie could do, such as being cruel and murderous, frenzied and fearless, having night vision, an aura of fear, and so on… She didn’t say Willie could fly, or transform into an inhuman shape. If she had, the lie would have been exposed. For the Villagers to believe Willie was a Night Fiend, the lies she told just happened to conform to the Law of Life for humans.”

“I’ve carefully studied the human Bloodline and found that the Vital Tenacity Talent is the foundation for all types of Talent Trees. It represents conforming to the Creator’s will, establishing limits and a framework.”

“With the foundation and framework in place, I plan to have initial-rank Mind Warriors fabricate a mental state, constantly approach it, and then trigger it using a mind potion as a medium. From the top down, it will naturally construct the mind talent and a mid-level Bloodline talent. I call this fabricated mental state—the Apostle.”

“Apostle?” Sylvia tilted her head to look at her lover and chuckled. “You’ve even thought of a name… My love, you’re very confident.”

“I am full of confidence,” Victor said honestly. Although the mid-rank Mind Warrior was still just an idea, the Alchemists of Mist Mountain from tens of thousands of years ago had used a similar method to create the Dragonoid template, and had succeeded over at Alchemy Tower No. 7.

“The Wizard you’re secretly keeping also uses Wizardry to have the test subjects naturally form the Vital Tenacity Talent. Unfortunately, the Mind Warriors he creates are dull, rigid, and inflexible. They can only be considered useless.”

Wisdom and adaptability are the most important qualities for an extraordinary warrior. Alchemical humans don’t fear death, which just makes them die more easily. No matter how powerful they are, they can only serve as cannon fodder.

Sylvia looked down on the Alchemical humans under Victor’s command, but she was very interested in the mid-rank Mind Warriors he described.

“What’s the specific method for creating an Apostle?” she asked.

Victor’s heart leaped with joy. He moved his chair next to Sylvia’s, sat down, and said, “First, secret arts and potions; second, family; third, a closed living environment; fourth, rituals and atmosphere…”

Hearing this, Sylvia was startled and retorted, “Won’t that just become a family?”

“It’s a school,” Victor quickly explained. “A secret school, like a family. For example, the Bear School, the Wolf School, the Viper School… They’ll be like the secret art death commandos cultivated by a family. They won’t hold power, so you don’t have to worry at all about these secret schools impacting the family’s power structure.”

“I certainly hope so.” Sylvia shot Victor a look that was both peeved and pleased, pursed her lips, and said with regret, “Since they are secret schools, their numbers certainly won’t be large. I would much rather the family’s army expand its strength.”

“If that were the case, the family’s political structure would really have to undergo major adjustments.” Victor comforted her, “The Retainer Training Camp practicing the third-level Source Blood Secret Art is the main focus for the army’s development, but the Mind Warriors from the secret schools can assist the Knights and Silver Knights. I guarantee they can master various special Combat Intuition talents and widely reach the standard of a Bronze Knight. If someone ignites the fire of the mind, they will be at least a Silver rank Mind Warrior.”

“That’s true,” Sylvia nodded and asked curiously, “If they are still mid-rank Mind Warriors even with a mind talent, then what’s the standard for a high-rank Mind Warrior?”

Victor fell silent for a moment, then sighed, “Once they have mastered Source Power and no longer rely on mind potions as a medium, they should be high-rank Mind Warriors. Unfortunately, I still don’t have the slightest clue about Source Power for ordinary people… I hope Narsen and the other adult Ferocious warriors can bring me a pleasant surprise.”

“I don’t care if Narsen and the others succeed or not.” Sylvia looked into Victor’s eyes and said, “My love, I am certain your vision can be realized, because breeding aberrant war beasts in our family is also done through continuous procreation, letting the Law of Creation choose the final war beast for us.”

“The principles are interconnected. Your Apostle concept can also be applied to aberrant war beasts.” Sylvia lifted her chin slightly and said in a proud and shy manner, “But why do I get the feeling you need to ask me a favor?”

Victor took Sylvia’s slender hand and caressed it gently, saying with an apologetic smile, “My love, the ‘Apostle’ is still missing the Creator’s guidance.”

The Raging Wind Sword Saint’s Light of the Mind was already fixed, but a Spirit Knight’s spiritual power was like chaos. She could plant the Apostle’s seed deep in the mind of a test subject’s mother. Combined with Victor’s Insight and Mind Bloodline secret art, they could finally establish the secret school through bloodline inheritance.

Sylvia’s help was indispensable for this matter, but she ignored His Highness Randell’s ingratiating attempts, pulled back her jade hand, and said resentfully, “You’ve said all this, but you haven’t mentioned a single word about bloodline purification for High-ranked Knights? I’m not doing it…”

“Let’s experiment with the Mind Warriors first. Once we’ve mastered a mature method…” Seeing Sylvia turn her face away, Victor gritted his teeth and said, “Alright, the Apostle secret art for the Knight path and the experiment for the warrior path will proceed simultaneously.”

The unparalleled beauty of the Queen of Roses saw her anger turn to joy. She wrapped her arms around Victor’s neck and said, full of tenderness, “My love, you have never disappointed me, and I will not disappoint you either.”

Chapter 729: Progress

In the potion-making secret fortress temporarily established at Red Frost Tree Manor, Victor, Sylvia, and Trisley stood on the second-floor internal balcony, looking down as Dwarf Glyn led a group of potion masters bustling about in the great hall. On a stone platform in the center of the hall lay a robust man of about thirty. His face was fierce, and his naked body revealed solid, compact muscles, exuding an air of great strength. Yet his hands, feet, elbows, knees, waist, hips, and forehead were all firmly bound by adamantine clasps, leaving only his eyes and mouth free to move.

Dwarf Glyn leaned in and whispered into the brawny man’s ear, inquiring about his physical and mental state, interspersing his words with encouragement—promises of wealth and women if he cooperated fully and the experiment succeeded. Though unable to move, the man knew how to bargain with the wise dwarf. He repeatedly declared that he wanted neither wealth nor women, only great power so that he could serve his noble mistress.

The familiar scene reminded Victor of his own time as a test subject for a wealthy man back on Earth. Before the implantation of X-3 and the replacement of his body, the presiding doctor had “comforted” him just as Dwarf Glyn was doing now. The difference was that the doctor had used images of his enemies meeting tragic ends to break through his psychological defenses, whereas this test subject was already under Sylvia’s spiritual enslavement and extremely cooperative, which would obviously increase the experiment’s chances of success.

The wise dwarf confirmed the experimental subject was ready. He took a bottle of bright red potion from an assistant’s hand, brought it to the subject’s mouth, and helped him slowly drink the entire contents.

The potion took effect a second later. The test subject’s eyes turned crimson, and the lines of his muscles bulged, making him look exceptionally burly. The specially concocted medicinal oil slathered all over his body was absorbed into his pores at a visible rate, and his bronze-colored skin soon began to emit a faint red glow.

Dwarf Glyn and the other potion masters stared intently at the man who had entered a state of Bloodlust. Their expressions were tense, fearing he would suddenly spit blood and die violently.

The scene they feared did not materialize. The man tensed the muscles in his arms, causing the adamantine clasps restraining him to emit cracking sounds like a mouse grinding its teeth.

His attempt to break free from the clasps failed. The man couldn’t help but roar, “Loosen me.”

The experimental subject could speak—a good sign.

Dwarf Glyn was instantly overjoyed. He stepped forward, but instead of hastily ordering the secret knights to undo the clasps, he began asking the test subject a series of questions.

The man’s mental state seemed relatively normal, and his answers were all coherent. The potion masters present were all visibly elated, using their quills to record the conversation between Glyn and the subject.

Up on the balcony, however, Sylvia let out a soft sigh and said wistfully, “I’ve failed again…”

The skin and muscles on the man’s face gradually slackened. The mutation accelerated, and his entire face began to look like a melting candle. His nose, mouth, and chin all disappeared, leaving only a pair of eyes rolling wildly. This horrifying scene brought a brief, shocked silence to the great hall.

“No!” Dwarf Glyn let out a cry of utter disappointment, then promptly regained his composure and shouted shrilly, “He’s not dead! Quick, quick, don’t just stand there, draw blood… You there, give him a high-potency healing potion… What, no mouth? You idiot pig, his mouth has collapsed! Can’t you pry open the skin and find a way?”

The potion masters sprang back into action, this time striving to preserve their brand-new experimental subject.

“It’s a bloodline collapse.” Victor averted his gaze and turned to Sylvia, comforting her with a smile. “My love, don’t be disheartened. He’s still alive. We’re not far from success.”

“If it’s a failure, it’s because of a problem with the potion you concocted,” Trisley shot Victor a disdainful look before taking Sylvia’s arm and analyzing, “Most of the test subjects you implanted with an ‘Apostle’ died on the spot. The last three who survived only died after taking the mind potion. I think Victor didn’t mix the potion right.”

The so-called “Apostle” was, in fact, a secondary personality dedicated to combat, possessing keen combat intuition and specific battle emotions, the most common being berserk or Bloodlust. However, it was not supposed to conflict with the subject’s primary personality. It would normally lie dormant in the depths of the mind, only to be awakened by a mind potion, which acted as a trigger. The Apostle would then merge with and dominate the primary personality, pushing the subject into a state of combat focus while allowing them to retain partial rationality.

The “Apostle” experiment was not some wild fantasy; Victor himself was the most successful and vivid example. His X-3 could be considered an “Apostle,” and His Highness Randell’s dual Talent Trees were also formed naturally based on X-3 and his own inner desires.

However, Victor activated his “Apostle” using spiritual power and the void water element within him. The mid-rank Mind Warriors he had designed required a mind potion as a trigger medium.

Although Victor envisioned different Schools of Mind Warriors, for the sake of the experiment, he first chose the Bloodlust talent. Two years ago, at Andria’s Windbell Castle, he had used his Insight talent to observe the bloodline variation of the Bloodguard, so he had a relatively good understanding of the human Bloodlust talent.

Due to Tofwen’s warning about the risk of hereditary contamination from the Bloodboil Potion, the new mind potion Victor configured discarded the spinal cord of wolf-like creatures and used only plant-based ingredients.

Given Victor’s understanding of the Bloodlust talent and his skill in potion-making, the secret mind potion he had meticulously concocted would not cause fatal harm to humans. An ordinary person who accidentally consumed it would at most suffer from unending diarrhea and could almost always be saved.

Throughout the entire experiment, the person with the least experience was Sylvia.

The “Apostle” involved altering the will side of the soul. Describing Sylvia’s work with terms like “hypnosis” or “suggestion” was inadequate. “Sculpting a secondary personality” was more accurate.

Sylvia’s spiritual power was like a tangible yet formless sharp sword, capable of easily destroying an ordinary person’s soul. Yet Victor had asked her to use this sword to “sculpt” the will side of a person’s soul, something she had never done before.

Over the past four months, a total of seventy-two heinous death row inmates had served as experimental subjects. Of these, forty-four had died on the spot during the process of sculpting the “Bloodlust Apostle,” and twenty-five had died after going insane. Only three had made it to the stage of taking the mind potion. Today’s experimental subject was the only one to have consumed the mind potion and survived, albeit with a collapsed bloodline. For Sylvia to have achieved such a major breakthrough in just five short months was already incredibly rapid progress.

Victor was certain there was no problem with the Bloodlust mind potion he had concocted. He reached out and pinched Trisley’s perky, round bottom, resolving to properly punish this little fruit vinegar jar tonight and see if she would dare to belittle His Highness Randell again.

A faint blush rose on Trisley’s exquisitely beautiful face, and the glare she shot Victor held a hint of seductive charm.

Sylvia paid no mind to the intimate interaction between Victor and Trisley. Her eyes gleamed as she asked, “The last three test subjects were all initial-rank Mind Warriors with the Vital Tenacity Talent. It seems ordinary people can’t bear the ‘Apostle’s’ power… How many initial-rank Mind Warriors do we have left?”

Trisley twisted her waist and took a step forward, escaping Victor’s devilish grasp. She replied softly, “There are eleven initial-rank Mind Warriors left, seven male and four female. But they’re all Secret Art Guards trained by the family. There are no more initial-rank Mind Warriors among the death row inmates.”

“Oh, what should we do?” Sylvia said, troubled. Using the vast and profound spiritual power of a Spirit Knight to create an Apostle was a new and unfamiliar domain for her. She was now full of enthusiasm and had a very precious discovery.

A High-ranked Knight’s use of the void element could never escape the limitations of chaos. No matter how many tricks they played, the void element was still the void element, capable only of bringing destruction and reduction. The “Apostle” experiment had opened a door for Sylvia, revealing the creative characteristic of the void element through soul modification via spiritual power.

The most obvious change was that while she could previously sense subtle elemental changes, the specific Reality Laws these changes corresponded to were rather hazy. Now, through her elemental perception, she could detect abnormalities in a test subject’s soul state and confirm the experiment’s failure in advance.

The Law of Chaos was connected to Reality Laws. Because of this, Sylvia would master higher authority, thereby obtaining power unimaginable even to Gold Knights.

Yes, she was getting stronger, and this was just the beginning.

Victor could understand Sylvia’s transformation, but he lacked a direct grasp of a Spirit Knight’s power system. To help his beloved wife master more of a Spirit Knight’s authority, he could only start from his own area of expertise and offer rationalized suggestions.

“My love, I don’t think you need to include ‘Loyalty’ in the ‘Apostle’s’ core framework. ‘Loyalty’ is like a clergy’s faith—an ultimate emotion. It doesn’t correspond to a specific Bloodline Law, yet it can encompass all bloodline variations. High-level emotions like this can trigger anger, coldness, fervor, tenacity, and so on. They should be cultivated over time within the primary personality. The ‘Apostle’ is characterized by being triggered by a medium, focusing the mind, amplifying emotions, and then driving bloodline changes. But ‘Loyalty’ involves almost all emotions. If it’s amplified many times over by an ‘Apostle,’ it could conflict with a naturally formed mid-rank bloodline talent and cause a bloodline collapse.”

Sylvia thought about it seriously, nodded, and then said proudly, “You have a point, my love, but I created the ‘Apostles,’ so they must listen to me.”

Saying this, she hugged Victor’s arm and said in a wheedling tone, “I want to keep the ‘Apostle’ Schools for the family’s Guardians. The Apostles’ loyalty will include you, and our descendants… I don’t care, you have to help me find a way.”

Her golden hair swayed gently like living sunlight, her azure eyes filled with expectation, admiration, and profound emotion. Sylvia’s coquettishness at this moment was soul-stirring; no one could ignore her plea.

Victor pulled his arm back and shook his head firmly. “I refuse.”

Sylvia’s willow-like brows furrowed. With a look so pitiful it would wrench any heart, like a rose yearning for sun and rain, she pleaded softly, “Please reconsider.”

Victor remained unmoved, sticking to his opinion. He continued to shake his head. “No. On this matter, you must listen to me.”

Sylvia stomped her foot in feigned anger, but to no effect. Finally, she couldn’t help but burst out laughing. She took her lover’s hand and said, “Alright, I’ll listen to you. But you have to give me a reason, right?”

Fostering the “Apostle” Schools would consume a vast amount of funds and a great deal of manpower and resources. My Lady Katerina could not bear this cost alone. In reality, the funds for the Red Frost Tree Manor’s secret fortress came from the Double-Headed Dragon Merchant Association, with the various vassal families sharing the burden. If the Guardian line were to use the vassal lords’ money and also monopolize the “Apostle” Schools, it would be an unseemly display of greed.

Don’t put all your eggs in one basket.

Victor’s intention was to follow the Swiftbird war-fowl distribution model, giving different “Apostle” Schools to different families. This would allow them to share the costs and invest manpower and rare resources to further perfect the “Apostle” Schools and maintain their legacies.

In truth, the “Apostle” Schools were not as important to Victor and Sylvia as one might think. The process of creating them was the precious accumulation of experience that Their Highnesses yearned for.

Victor had hit a bottleneck in his research of mid-rank Mind Warriors, which was why he had thought to use the Creator’s natural laws to achieve mid-rank bloodline talents from the top down. If the “Apostle” experiment succeeded, he could use his wind element insight to reverse-engineer the mid-rank bloodline talent, perfect the related secret arts, and achieve his goal of popularizing mid-rank Mind Warriors.

This meant that once the “Bloodlust Apostle” was perfected, Victor could promote the Forging Method at the mountain stronghold training camp to cultivate Mind Warriors with the Bloodlust talent.

Of course, there would still be a gap between these Mind Warriors and the Apostles, as they would not possess the mind talent that included combat intuition.

Victor estimated that the difference between the Mind Warriors trained later in life and the Apostles from the school legacies would be similar to the difference between a Bloodguard and a Shadow Warrior. A Bloodguard’s combat power was clearly no match for a Shadow Warrior’s, but the mid-rank Mind Warriors would have the absolute advantage in numbers and lower training costs.

This was the kind of power an army needed.

Sylvia understood her lover’s thoughts. She, too, was stepping into a new domain through the experiment. One must know that any bit of progress for a Spirit Knight was incredibly difficult, and the authority gained from it was immense.

Victor explained coolly, “I emphasize family, secrecy, rituals, and precepts for the secret schools. This includes instilling the concept of loyalty. There’s no need to worry they’ll betray the family.”

The logic was simple, yet Sylvia was a little angry. She had just wheedled, shown weakness, and even threatened, yet not only did Victor refuse, but the reason he gave was far too simple.

Sylvia felt she had been brushed off. She huffed at Victor, “I don’t want to talk to you… not for three days.”

Who says a Spirit Knight can’t be headstrong and willful? Sylvia and Victor were becoming more and more like an ordinary couple, even throwing tantrums… Trisley complained internally, her heart feeling a little sour as she started to follow Sylvia out.

“Who said you could leave? You just slandered my name. Now that Sylvia isn’t talking to me, you can stay and keep me company.”

Victor’s tall, well-proportioned figure blocked her path. Looking into those dark gold eyes, Trisley felt a surge of panic. Just as she was about to call out to Sylvia, Victor swept her into his arms like a meek little lamb.

Chapter 730: Five Seeds

Victor couldn’t possibly let Sylvia ignore him for three whole days. To do so would be a sign of remarkably low emotional intelligence.

The next day, His Highness Randell took the initiative to confess to Sylvia, showering her with sweet nothings and gentle affection, which turned her anger into joy. The two soon reconciled. After all, they were both top-tier extraordinary beings, capable of altering even the human soul, like divine beings walking among mortals. Naturally, they wouldn’t let themselves get bogged down by negative emotions the way mortals do.

Sylvia and Victor were not only lovers but also like-minded partners. Their little spats only added a bit of spice to life; mastering the Laws was their shared pursuit.

The experimental subject from the previous day had survived and had not gone mad, marking a major breakthrough in the “Apostle” experiment. Victor decided to take a ten-day break to allow the secret fortress’s Potion Masters to relax. He also arranged for the family’s legacy scholars to organize the experimental records and asked My Lady Katerina to replenish their stocks of potions and experimental subjects.

After the ten-day vacation, Victor and Sylvia began the second phase of the experiment. This time, Sylvia followed Victor’s advice and eliminated the unnecessary “Loyalty” constraint from the process of implanting the “Apostle” seed. Of the forty death row inmates of different genders and ages who participated in the experiment, none died. After taking the Bloodlust mind potion, only a small number died on the spot; the vast majority survived, though their bodies and minds fell into a prolonged state of sluggishness.

This was related to their proficiency with the third-level Source Blood Secret Art, not a flaw in the “Apostle” seed or the Bloodlust mind potion. In other words, Sylvia had mastered the method of using spiritual power to transform the Will Side of the human soul and implant the “Apostle” seed. At the same time, Victor and Dwarf Glyn had taken a crucial step forward in the field of Mental Potion-making.

The first step is always the hardest. Once they had found a way to break the deadlock, the rest was relatively simple.

Sylvia finally made up her mind and summoned two of the family’s initial-rank Mind Warriors, one male and one female, to participate in the Apostle experiment. This time, the Creator displayed His generosity and greatness. Both of these Secret Art Guards, who possessed the Vital Tenacity Talent, successfully forged the Bloodlust talent, becoming Apostles in the truest sense.

The next step was to wait and see if their children would inherit the Apostle seed, which would take another two or three years. Victor would not waste this time. He used his Wind Element Insight to carefully observe the two Apostles’ inner potential, calculate the变形 of the Bloodline Law, and reverse-engineer a Mind Bloodline secret art.

Sylvia did not rush Victor to begin testing the Knight-path Apostle. She knew full well that this Mind Bloodline secret art was intended to cultivate more mid-rank Mind Warriors, and it held extraordinary significance for both the York and Auguste families.

Only a Spirit Knight could implant an Apostle’s seed deep within a person’s mind. The York family had already cornered the market on the Apostle School. If Aerie Fortress couldn’t obtain a widely applicable mid-rank Mind Bloodline secret art, their cooperation would be cut short.

The York family’s Potion-making skills were far inferior to Aerie Fortress’s, and they still relied on the Aerie Fortress Potion Masters for academic support.

On the other hand, experimenting on the family’s Knights with a Mind Bloodline required extreme caution. Sylvia and Victor had plenty of time to accumulate experience and didn’t need to rush. It would be in the family’s best interest to wait until Tofwen the Wizard had perished and the York family’s Potion Masters had reached a certain level of proficiency before revealing the Knight-path Apostle secret art.

Victor already had a plan for the Knight-path Apostle secret art. Its purpose was different from the common-path Apostle secret art, and it was much less difficult to achieve.

The Faceless’ use of the Fertility Potion to purify a knight’s bloodline also showed no regard for the future of female apprentice knights. Queen Catherine’s promotion to Knight before giving birth to Edward was a special exception made by Tofwen the Wizard, who had yielded to King Ryan. Even so, Edward’s knight’s bloodline could not compare to Roland’s.

Victor approached the problem with reverse thinking, striving to allow female apprentice knights to still be able to advance to the Bronze-rank after bearing the offspring of a Great Knight. This was equivalent to Sylvia helping the female apprentice knights construct a protective secondary personality, which could be awakened at an opportune moment to dispel the Great Knight’s influence on their willpower.

Therefore, the Knight-path Apostle secret art did not require heredity; it only protected the souls of female apprentice knights from being assimilated by the will of high-ranking individuals.

Sylvia would be responsible for implanting the Apostle seed, while Victor would observe the subjects and deduce a formula for a mind potion. In the future, female apprentice knights would simply need to take this mind potion after giving birth.

As for the potion’s effectiveness, Victor could only try his best to create the most effective mind potion possible. But if its effects were indeed less than ideal, what did it matter?

The chances of a female apprentice knight with a low bloodline advancing to the Silver rank were slim anyway. The mind potion provided by His Highness Randell was more of a comfort. As long as their hope of entering the extraordinary realm was not completely extinguished, they would naturally not resist the current marriage system.

That was why the common-path Apostle was of practical value, and a low-cost, widely accessible mid-rank secret art was even more precious than the Apostle School itself.

Even if it was a deception, Victor had already provided a solution for the Knight-path Apostle secret art. Sylvia was very satisfied with this. She focused all her attention on her hobby of interfering with souls using elemental powers, obeyed Victor’s every word, and was extremely cooperative.

With a Spirit Knight as his devoted assistant, Victor, in the second month of the Season of Wind, designed a development blueprint containing five Apostle Schools: the Wolf School, the Bear School, the Cat School, the Eagle School, and the Serpent School.

Among them, the Wolf School and Bear School possessed active Bloodlust and passive Berserk talents, but they were the most common Apostles of the five Schools.

In Victor’s vision, Cat School Apostles possessed a killing instinct and an active Frenzy talent. Their combat intuition leaned toward finding an enemy’s fatal weakness. They could voluntarily enter a frenzy, simultaneously enhancing their agility and strength, with the strength boost being greater than Bloodlust and the agility boost greater than Berserk.

Theoretically, the Cat School was the most perfect Apostle School at present. Yet, the one Victor favored most was the Eagle School.

Eagle School Apostles had no active or passive enhancement talents, but their combat intuition was centered around simulating the X-3’s “Flame Scourge” secret art, which was very close to the fire of the mind.

Given the limitations of the human form, no matter how strong the enhancement effects of Bloodlust, Berserk, or Frenzy were, they were useless if the Apostle’s attacks couldn’t hit their target. The Eagle School Apostles pursued precision, capable of both ranged and close-quarters combat. Most importantly, their memory and calculation speed were comparable to a mid-rank Bronze Knight’s, allowing them to quickly formulate tactics for different situations. They were all-around warriors and also tacticians.

Wisdom is humanity’s most reliable strength.

As for the Serpent School, Victor felt they were no longer human in the ordinary sense.

The Serpent School Apostles were designed solely by Sylvia, with the unfortunate soul whose face had melted together as the source material. Serpent School Apostles could use the pores on their skin for auxiliary breathing, their muscles and senses could be adjusted, and their mental activity could lie dormant, giving them extraordinary adaptability. For example, they could operate underwater, diving to depths and for lengths of time far exceeding ordinary people, because their mental state prompted their senses, muscles, and organs to adapt to underwater activity.

If Victor saw a person who could change their own appearance, he would be certain they were a Serpent School Apostle.

Without a doubt, the Serpent School Apostles had the greatest potential, but Victor believed Sylvia had set the bar too high. The Serpent School involved nearly all human bloodline variations, and theoretically, they could simulate the effects of Bloodlust, Berserk, and Frenzy. But aside from Tournans, Victor had never seen anyone else with such an ability.

Focusing on developing in a single direction was certainly the simplest and most effective path. A comprehensively developed Serpent School would likely end up as the weakest of the Apostle Schools.

However, Sylvia was happy to use the Serpent School for a long-term experiment, so Victor didn’t mind.

Bloodlust, Berserk, Frenzy, Flame Scourge—Victor had samples for these four bloodline talents and could basically design the Mind Bloodline secret arts and accompanying mind potions. But with the Serpent School, he really couldn’t help. He could only prepare a mind potion for Sylvia that enhanced Spirit and stimulated inner potential to act as a trigger. The secret art practiced by the Serpent School Apostles was still the most basic third-level Source Blood Secret Art, aimed at building the Vital Tenacity Talent.

This meant that the Serpent School’s Apostle secret art could not be widely popularized, greatly diminishing their value.

A Secret School could have at most a hundred Apostles. Although they all had a mind talent and their starting point was higher than that of the popularized mid-rank Mind Warriors, for a family, the mid-rank Mind Warriors were the future direction of development. The advantage of the Schools lay in self-improvement and continuous progress. Victor hoped the Apostle Schools would bear rich fruit that could then be fed back to the Mind Warriors. This required someone to provide the soil and nutrients for the Apostle Schools.

On the tenth of April in the Season of Wind, the four most powerful families of the Centaur Hills gathered at Black Fortress in Goldwater City to decide the ownership of the Apostle Schools.

My Lady Katerina, representing Duke York’s line, claimed the Cat School; Viscount and Lady Fredrick York claimed the Wolf School; Earl and Countess Teldrane claimed the Bear School; Nicole, representing the House of Randell, claimed the Eagle School; and the Serpent School naturally belonged to Sylvia and Victor, and was claimed by Red Frost Tree Manor.

The powerful lords continued to discuss the details of their cooperation, jointly establishing the rules for the Apostle Schools. This involved a financial investment of over one million Gold Sols and an inestimable return. The lords engaged in endless scheming and jockeying for position, each bringing in supporters to rally for their cause. Just as factions were about to form around the Apostle issue, Sylvia was forced to personally step in to control the situation, acting as coordinator and arbitrator.

She, however, was grinding her teeth in frustration at her husband. His Highness Randell had left Red Frost Tree Manor ten days ago and returned to Rand Territory to go on a date with Gillian of the Chapman family.

In truth, two months earlier, Victor had received news that the Alchemy Tower had created two Wyvern Warriors. They were housed in the mountain stronghold, awaiting their master’s inspection.

If Victor was satisfied with the Wyvern Warriors, the Tower Spirit King was eagerly hoping he would invest more money.

Chapter 731: Extreme Test

The mountain wind howled, and the soughing pines roared like an angry sea. The mountain stronghold stood amidst a ring of hills—imposing, stark, dark, and gloomy, like the lifeless corpse of a giant beast, exuding an ominous and inexplicable terror.

A castle could be a sturdy sanctuary, a symbol of a lord’s power. But if left unattended for too long, any castle would become a breeding ground for ghost stories.

The Larkspur Mountains stronghold had long been converted into a training base for alchemical humans. Currently, over one hundred rank-three Sourceblood Warriors were stationed here, learning social customs and participating in gathering labor and patrol missions. The vast mountain stronghold was garrisoned by only a dozen alchemical militia who were responsible for guarding the Treasury. To prevent fires, most rooms remained without candlelight year-round. With such a small staff, cleaning the castle was also a challenge.

The sunless castle became a haven for snakes, bugs, rats, and ants, with dust and cobwebs everywhere. The feral cats were the true masters of the castle. They left behind leftover scraps and droppings without a care, yet they were helpless against the blood-sucking bedbugs. The fortress was perpetually filled with a nauseating, putrid, and musty odor.

Victor yearned for free and open spaces and loathed dark, enclosed castles, especially the mountain stronghold.

The alchemical humans here barely spoke a few words all year round. Their silence was unsettling. When they moved through the fortress, they truly resembled wandering undead.

Ever since Imosen and his daughter had left the mountain stronghold and integrated into the Randell Fief, Victor had been unwilling to live in the castle. He ordered the alchemical auxiliary soldier, Busuo, to build an exquisite wooden villa on a hill to the north to serve as his temporary residence.

In truth, as the function of the Skylark Mountain stronghold shifted, Victor rarely visited anymore. Initially, the mountain stronghold had served to hide the unusual alchemical humans and to harvest and process the forest’s resources, creating a continuous stream of wealth for Victor. As the House of Randell grew in size and power, the alchemical humans were dispatched by Victor to various parts of the world. Production at the mountain stronghold gradually ceased, and even its few mines were refilled and sealed.

Now, the mountain stronghold served only as a training facility for alchemical humans and a logistical storage point for the Swamp Forward Base. If not for the recent replacement of the alchemical militia, the stronghold would normally be garrisoned by only about forty people.

However, the stronghold’s facilities were complete. The giant brick kiln, blacksmith, carpentry workshop, beast pens, orchards, farmland, barracks, and warehouses were all in place. It also stored large quantities of ore, fuel, and seeds for Thousand-Bend Reed.

It was a pity to let the mountain stronghold lie idle and fall into disuse… Standing on the hillside, Victor looked down at the desolate castle town below, secretly planning to select children of the right age from various mountain strongholds, bring them here, and establish a clandestine Eagle School.

This way, I can save a great deal of money and time… Best of all, the mountain stronghold is ready-made. There’s no need to send craftsmen to build it, so no one will leak the location of the Eagle School’s base… A faint smile touched Victor’s lips as he thought of the powerful lords in the Centaur Hills who were wracking their brains over how to construct a secret fortress for their Schools.

His Highness Randell possessed an otherworldly aura and was incomparably handsome. At his slight smile, the sound of gulping saliva came from both his left and right. The sound carried a greedy yet fawning, infatuated, and submissive quality, exuding a strange sort of charm.

Victor’s gaze turned grim. He frowned, his slender eyebrows knitting together as he glanced to his sides.

To his left was a young woman with short red hair and red eyes. To his right, the woman had long, emerald-green hair and lake-green eyes. Both were tall, stunningly beautiful, with fair, smooth, and firm skin. A pair of small, forward-curving, pristine white horns grew from their heads.

Both figures were as perfect as high-ranking female knights, but they possessed distinctly different temperaments.

The red-haired woman was like a raging inferno, wild and unrestrained, her presence overwhelmingly powerful. She looked at Victor with a fiery, bold, and aggressive gaze. The green-haired woman had a graceful, quiet, and gentle demeanor, but her eyes held a dense, profound strength.

The two female Dragonoids stared at Victor with burning intensity, yet he felt they were like puppies begging for their master’s favor, just short of wagging their tails.

He pondered for a moment before asking, “What are your names?”

“My King, I was just born. I do not have a name yet…” the red-haired, red-eyed Dragonoid said, rushing to speak first and taking two steps toward Victor.

The other female Dragonoid had already moved closer to Victor, her voice soft and enchanting as she said, “King, I request that you bestow a name upon me.”

As she spoke, their gazes clashed. Their two pairs of differently colored eyes became vertical pupils, and an invisible spiritual power collided and spread outwards. The sounds of birds and beasts in the surroundings instantly fell silent, leaving only the wind whistling and howling through the treetops.

The Dragonoids’ “Dragon’s Might” had no effect on Victor. He was troubled by something else.

“King? Why not ‘My lord’ or ‘Master,’ but ‘King’?”

Victor used the word “King” in his question. The green-haired woman replied happily, “I do not know why, but you are our king.”

Not to be outdone, the red-haired woman curtsied to Victor and said, “My King, please grant me a name.”

“King, please grant me a name first,” the green-haired woman quickly followed, also curtsying.

“You bitch, how dare you provoke me!”

“You’re the bitch…”

The two Dragonoids began to argue and curse at each other across Victor. The insults they hurled back and forth all came from the storybooks copied and collected at the mountain stronghold.

Their learning ability far surpasses that of alchemical humans, but it’s likely more than just excellent learning ability… Victor listened for a moment before stopping their squabble. “Why don’t you two fight it out?” he asked.

The red-haired woman’s temper was as fiery as her figure. She said excitedly, “My King, just give the order! I’ll beat that bitch to a pulp and grind her into the dust!”

“Hmph, I’ll freeze you into a popsicle, then grind you into the dust.” The green-haired woman’s aura was clearly weaker than her rival’s. She moved closer to Victor again, pleading pitifully, “King, please grant me a name.”

Victor’s expression was a little unnatural. Phrases like “grind into the dust” and “popsicle” came from stories he had scribbled out of boredom, which were placed on the mountain stronghold’s bookshelves to give it an air of culture. The two Dragonoids had apparently read the books he had used as mere shelf-fillers and were now putting them to practical use.

However, the fact that the Dragonoids produced by the Alchemy Tower, whether intentionally or not, repeatedly asked him to bestow names upon them had put Victor on high alert.

The decision for Alchemy Tower No. 7 to produce female Dragonoid Ragers and Dragonoid Raiders was one Victor had made after weighing the pros and cons.

The Red Dragon bloodline Ragers were the strongest, while the Green Dragon bloodline Raiders were the most expensive to create. One breathed fire, the other ice—typical traits of representative draconic creatures. As for the Brass Dragon bloodline Protectors and the Blue Dragon bloodline Rippers, they were extremely rare varieties. Victor believed these two types of Dragonoids were insufficient to reflect the true nature of dragons. Moreover, the Dragonoid Protector only had a male template, and Victor would not produce any male Dragonoids until he had figured certain things out.

Victor didn’t know much about dragons. According to documents left behind by the ancient Chosen, Dragons were innately greedy, with a fondness for hoarding treasure and beautiful things, including beautiful creatures. A dragon’s second characteristic was its promiscuity, especially among males. They had an almost fanatical desire to propagate their bloodline, often pursuing interspecies relationships. Giant creatures like mammoths, white apes, nine-headed hydras, and Water Lizards were all potential targets for male dragons.

However, the Chosen had never found any instances of these giant creatures, dominated by male dragons, giving birth to draconic offspring. Victor guessed that the Dragon progenitor, for some reason, had missed the opportunity to spread its bloodline. Other than Kobolds, no other creatures had attached themselves to the Dragon race, causing the draconic life form to stagnate and their line of succession to verge on extinction. This was likely why male dragons were so indiscriminate, desperately trying to expand the diversity of draconic species.

In comparison, female dragons had a much better reputation in this regard. Although they might kidnap human knights, it was usually to keep them as pets.

The Dragonoids produced by the Alchemy Tower possessed the characteristics of natural organisms. Victor couldn’t be sure if they were the same as his previous alchemical creatures. But anyone who had seen the creature templates left by the Alchemists of Mist Mountain, with their diverse array of alluringly sexy or beautifully cute humanoid creatures, would inevitably think of the decadent ancient Alchemists, Archmages, and the playthings they created.

Heaven knows what sort of nonsensical things the Alchemists of Mist Mountain had loaded into the Will Side of the Dragonoid creature templates.

Considering the Dragonoids’ near-human physique, the notorious reputation of male dragons, and the evolutionary traits of natural organisms, Victor first needed to confirm whether the Dragonoids had their own consciousness and if they could reproduce naturally.

Ultimately, it came down to seeing if there were loopholes that would allow them to escape the Alchemy Tower’s control.

The male template for the Dragonoid Protector was a Gold-rank extraordinary creature. There was almost nowhere in the Randell Fief that could confine him, and no one could watch him around the clock. If he secretly ran off a few hundred kilometers to propagate his bloodline and actually managed to get a human female pregnant, it would be a huge problem.

Female Dragonoids didn’t present this problem. Even if they could get pregnant, they were much easier to monitor, preventing the Dragonoid bloodline from spreading beyond the Randell Fief.

As things stood, Victor’s worries were not unfounded. He had programmed the Tower Spirit King to have the alchemical humans address him as “My lord,” yet these two Dragonoids called him “King.” This meant the Tower Spirit’s naming convention was ineffective on them. Furthermore, not only did they have distinct personalities, but they also coveted their master’s beauty and even showed rivalry for his affection. Most critically, they had no names, and their manner of speech and vocabulary came from the books in the mountain stronghold and the training of the older generation of alchemical humans.

After all that, it seemed the initial memories on the Dragonoids’ Will Side were mostly blank.

But this still wasn’t proof that they were unrestrained by the Alchemy Tower, because their language and writing memories were still loaded by Alchemy Tower No. 7, and they had no trouble communicating with Victor.

When Victor first met them, these two were holed up in the mountain stronghold’s Treasury, each occupying half of it. They even had the alchemical militia bring them food, behaving like true misers. They wouldn’t have come out at all if Victor hadn’t personally summoned them. Yet the alchemical militia confirmed they were kindred produced by Alchemy Tower No. 7.

Now, an extreme test was needed to reach a final conclusion.

A gleam of light flashed in Victor’s dark gold eyes. The strong, howling mountain wind transformed into sharp blades that sliced at the two Dragonoids. Amidst the turbulent airflow, their six-legged crocodile vine-hide armor disintegrated, revealing two perfectly curved bodies. The Wind Blades, capable of tearing through tough leather armor, only left red marks on their fair, smooth skin, which quickly returned to its pristine state.

Victor’s pupils contracted slightly. Although he hadn’t used his full strength, the Dragonoids’ resilience and Elemental Resistance were indeed astonishing. Their power would only increase when they transformed into their Dragon-form.

“King, are you going to favor me right here?” the woman with waist-length green hair said with a soft, enchanting smile and a voice full of pleasant surprise.

“Shut up, you bitch! My King summoned me to serve him.”

The Wind Blades just now had been powerful enough to cut an ordinary person in half. Victor had intended to see how the Dragonoids would react to being harmed by their master, but he hadn’t expected the two female Dragonoids to have such a different way of thinking.

“Neither of you move. Relax your bodies and minds. Do not resist my will,” Victor commanded, then summoned the wind elements to penetrate the Dragonoids’ skin, perceiving their physiological structures and the workings of their inner potential.

The two female Dragonoids indeed stood perfectly still, cooperating with their master’s elemental perception.

The Insight’s results showed that their physiological structure was close to that of a human, with over eighty percent similarity. However, their hearts and brains contained a core-like tissue that was half crystal, half flesh. This was likely the source of their power to condense void elements and undergo their Dragon-form transformation. What surprised Victor was that their reproductive systems were identical to those of human females, yet incomplete. This meant that the female Dragonoids produced by the Alchemy Tower were incapable of reproduction.

However, the fact that a naturally evolved female Dragonoid would possess a reproductive system identical to a human’s meant they were viviparous, giving birth to live young instead of laying eggs like Dragons.

The female Dragonoids made by the Alchemy Tower couldn’t reproduce, but if the lost Dragon race had evolved into Dragonoids, and they had switched from laying eggs to live birth, their species’ procreation would have become much more stable and secure.

It’s been over ten thousand years, and the Dragons never flew back. Could they have evolved into wingless Dragonoids on the Southern Continent?

Victor shook his head, reigning in his wandering thoughts. With an indifferent expression, he said, “Transform into your Dragon-form… and then, I am going to kill you.”

“And… I will permit you to resist.”

Chapter 732: The Dragon Pact

The Light of the Mind of His Highness Randell had solidified. His form was flawless, his temperament noble and gentle, possessing an extraordinary charm. He was the only Legendary creature who did not emanate a terrifying, fearsome aura. But the Raging Wind Sword Saint could make words into law; when he said he would kill, he was not merely talking.

The surrounding air ceased to flow, and even breathing became difficult. The malice of the wind element was almost palpable; even the dullest of creatures could feel the sharp, chilling killing intent, let alone the Dragonoids, whose minds were sharp and who possessed Dragon Instincts.

The Dragonoid Rager had a Spirit attribute of 29, and the Dragonoid Raider had a Spirit attribute of 26. In addition to the three production skills of Gathering, Forging, and Architecture, they were also loaded with the Griffin Mystic Form, the Dire Wolf Mystic Form, and the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form. Among these Forging and Sundering Methods, the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form was of the highest level, requiring its practitioners to walk blindfolded along cliffs, training a wondrous spiritual intuition in the crucible of life and death, pointing the way to the realm of the Touch of the Mind.

It was precisely because the training method for the Spirit monkey Mystic Form was so extreme that Tournans had modified it into the Gray Wolf Combat Technique. But it had long since been proven that a alchemical militia loaded with the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form was more combat-effective than a Crouching Ox Militiaman. Victor himself couldn’t say for sure what effect a Gold-rank Dragonoid would achieve when loaded with the Spirit Monkey Mystic Form.

Even without these combat techniques and secret arts, the Dragonoids were Gold-rank extraordinary creatures. Not only did they possess racial talents like Dynamic Vision, Lightning Reflexes, Self-Heal, Draconic Perception, and Dragon’s Wrath, but they also had the ability of the Touch of the Mind.

If Tournans’s Touch of the Mind was ever-changing and endlessly versatile, then the Dragonoids’ Fearful Gaze was a solidified, singular form of it.

Singular, therefore pure. And because of its purity, it was powerful.

The Dragonoids’ Fearful Gaze was even stronger than their own Spirit attribute. The Rager’s Fearful Gaze, for example, could undoubtedly reach the intensity of a Legendary-rank. Moreover, the mental burden of using this talent was minimal, and they could continuously pressure an opponent’s mind. Even the Raging Wind Sword Saint would have to divert some of his vigor to negate the effects of the Fearful Gaze.

A Gold-rank extraordinary warrior was merely a Dragonoid’s weakest, common form. Their Dragonkin transformation was their perfect combat form. Facing two Dragonkin at once, Victor cautiously drew a silver-gray rapier from his waist.

This was an extraordinary weapon forged from Saron Demon Iron fused with Thorium. It was long, slender, and rounded like a fencing foil. Though it had no edge, it possessed an unparalleled sharpness when infused with the void wind element, and could be used not only for thrusting but also for slashing.

The alchemical auxiliary soldiers at the mountain stronghold, following Victor’s orders, had forged a pair of rapiers, one long and one short. The long one was 1.6 meters, slightly stiffer in texture, and named “Soul Rend”; the short one was only 32 centimeters, soft in texture, and named “Umbra.”

Victor held “Soul Rend,” which was specialized for close combat. Even against a true Dragon, he was confident he could slay it, or at least severely wound it, or perhaps just intimidate it.

With “Soul Rend” in his hand, he could adjust the infusion strength of the void wind element at will. If he were to use “Umbra” and fully infuse it with the void wind element, its attack radius would reach a full kilometer, and the two Dragonoids before him would surely die. They would end up like the Bear-monster Elder in the Giantwood Forest, their entire bodies sliced to bits from the inside out by the void wind element.

Although the Raging Wind Sword Saint was powerful, strength and the outcome of a battle were not a simple equation.

Ron had fought a manticore bare-handed. That Legendary monster was slightly stronger overall than the Sacred Warrior, yet their exchange was over in an instant, with life and death decided and victory determined.

Ordinary people often mistakenly believe that only opponents who trade blows back and forth are evenly matched. Victor did not think this way. Almost every enemy he killed was felled in a single blow, with the exception of the particularly durable Legendary Centaur. But that was only because he had used the Centaur Great Khan to hone his Raging Wind Domain. If he had gone all-out from the beginning, using an arrow of Saron Demon Iron as his weapon, the intensity of the void wind element would have surpassed the limits of the Armor of the Earth, and the Legendary Centaur would have died on the spot.

The Gold-rank Dragonoids were not to be underestimated. A Rager and a Raider working in tandem had the qualification to challenge the Raging Wind Sword Saint. If necessary, Victor would truly strike a killing blow.

His Highness Randell held “Soul Rend,” his gaze indifferent, his sharp and ruthless will already interfering with reality. Yet the two female Dragonoids wore expressions of utter confusion, and their eyes had not even shifted into the violent vertical pupils of their kind.

“My King, why do you want to kill me?”

“King, can you not kill me?”

Aside from a pair of small, forward-curving horns on their heads, the female Dragonoids’ figures and faces were completely those of human women. Their physiques were not the athletic build of female warriors, nor the flawlessly proportioned bodies of high-ranking female knights, but rather slender, willowy figures that revealed a feminine softness, full-figured and fair-skinned. Even completely unclothed, they showed no trace of coyness or shame. Their innocent and natural temperament, combined with their alluringly sexy appearance, made them seem like the forest sprites of myth and legend, the beautiful creatures known as dryads. But the inherent arrogance and cruelty of the dragon race, coupled with the pair of cute little horns on their heads, also embodied a bestial beauty.

Victor had to admit that these two female Dragonoids, with their dazed and confused expressions, held a strange attraction for men. This charm, targeted specifically at males, was perhaps even more potent than their Fearful Gaze.

However, the Sun Elves were known as the Children of God, divine creatures in the truest sense. As Victor, the Mind’s Dominator, could even subdue the bloodline of a Sun Elf, how could he possibly be seduced by a female Dragonoid?

Victor was usually a man of rich emotions, but a very select few extraordinary powerhouses could see his other side—cold, ruthless, and absolutely rational.

At this moment, in his eyes, these were two alchemical creatures. They appeared submissive, but they were in fact defying his command, having still not transformed into their Dragonkin combat forms.

Pfft! Pfft! His Highness Randell waved “Soul Rend” in his hand. The rapier pierced into the full, snow-white chests of the two Dragonoids, penetrating their heart crystals.

Victor’s sword style was precise and swift, though his striking speed itself was only average; even an initial-rank Bronze Knight could have dodged the thrust to the chest in time. Yet the two female Dragonoids were completely defenseless, not even activating the Dynamic Vision or Lightning Reflexes from their dragon blood talents, allowing their master’s extraordinary weapon to pierce the vital point of their hearts. But in the next second, their alluring bodies dissipated into void elements.

This form of Elemental Manifestation was an extremely strong reaction. The four brilliant lights of yellow, red, blue, and green intertwined and flowed, decomposing the nearby air, soil, and plants, assimilating them, then gathering and re-forming them into the bodies of Dragonkin.

Just as Victor had anticipated, the Dragonoids’ transformation was a phenomenon of elemental creation, similar to his Void Walk. Unless both of a Dragonoid’s power cores were destroyed simultaneously, they could complete their Dragonkin transformation even if beheaded, and recover from all injuries.

This was practically a form of immortality, but it was limited by a cooldown.

A Dragonoid could transform once every nine hours, and each Dragonkin transformation could last up to one hundred minutes. This meant a Dragonoid could withstand one fatal attack every nine hours.

Furthermore, the elemental authority demonstrated by the Dragonkin transformation was extremely high. The four void elements fueled and gave birth to one another. Even if Victor could interfere with the wind element, the other three elements would constantly replenish its loss. If he tried to interrupt the process of elemental creation through the Elemental Sea of Wind, he would likely be caught in a stalemate, expend a great deal of his vigor, and might not even succeed.

Other than Sylvia, Victor couldn’t think of anyone who could terminate the Dragonkin transformation by relying solely on the authority of the Elemental Sea.

The four elements corresponded to Matter, Energy, Space, and Time. With the void water element, representing the authority of Time, involved, the Dragonoid transformation process was exceedingly brief. It took only 1.35 seconds for two enormous Dragonkin to appear before Victor.

Their appearances were almost identical. Smooth, keratinous skin covered their entire bodies like a suit of exquisite armor. A pair of forward-curving horns grew from their dragon-like heads. Their claws were like human hands sheathed in sharp gauntlets, capable of tearing enemies apart with their bare hands, yet also nimble enough to wield weapons. Their knee joints could bend both forwards and backward, meaning they could fight standing upright or get on all fours like large beasts for greater mobility and superhuman raiding speed. In their Dragonkin form, their height increased to 3.1 meters and their weight to nearly 650 pounds. They had a 210-centimeter-long tail, and their bodies were well-proportioned with beautiful, flowing curves.

From the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s perspective, the two Dragonkin, one red and one green, perfectly conformed to the principles of combat aesthetics. Their fangs, claws, horns, and long tails didn’t make them look savage or ugly; they were majestic, powerful, and exceptionally beautiful extraordinary creatures.

“My King, I…” The Dragonkin Rager showed no combat awareness whatsoever. She blinked, and her long tail curled upward.

A dragon’s tail was a weapon. Curling it was a sign of friendliness, and if it was also raised, it indicated submission, fawning, and a plea for affection, much like a pet dog pinning its ears back and wagging its tail for its master.

“You what!”

Like a tangible specter, Victor flashed behind the Rager and slammed his fist into her lower back. His Body of Gossamer instantly switched to Body of Bedrock. The ground beneath his bracing left foot cracked like a spiderweb. Drawing support from the earth, he unleashed a sudden burst of titanic force that sent the several-hundred-pound Dragonkin Rager flying.

The Rager flew sideways, snapping a hemlock tree as thick as a man’s waist, and crashed into a thicket of thorns, gouging out a large crater. Half her body was exposed, the tail on her rump still curled upwards.

“King, don’t hit me… Ah!” On the other side, the Dragonkin Raider, tail raised, pleaded with Victor for mercy, only to suffer the same fate.

The two powerful Dragonkin had no will to resist, yet Victor mercilessly pummeled them with his fists. The brute strength generated by his Body of Bedrock was comparable to an Ogre Warlord. The Rager and the Raider were truly being ground into the dust by Victor, but their natural armor was not only incredibly tough but also dispersed impacts. Combined with their dragon blood’s regenerative talent, Victor estimated it would be extremely difficult to smash a Dragonkin with pure brute force.

Blood trickled from the two Dragonkin’s mouths and noses, but these were minor injuries. They cried incessantly, huddled together, their pitiful, whimpering appearance leaving one speechless. Even so, their tails remained curled upwards toward Victor.

They were, after all, alchemical units that had cost several hundred thousand Gold Sols. In the end, Victor refrained from using “Soul Rend” on them. After kicking each of the Dragonkin on the rump, he stopped and stepped back, sighing. “Revert your transformation,” he ordered.

The elements dissipated into a fine mist of light, like gorgeous, four-colored ribbons drifting away from the Dragonkin’s bodies. After about two minutes, the three-meter-tall Dragonkin reverted to their alluring and stunningly beautiful forms. Traces of blood still stained their mouths and noses as they looked at Victor with teary-eyed, pitiful expressions.

The two female Dragonoids had taken a beating for nothing, not knowing what they had done wrong. They wanted to approach him but were too timid, a sight that was particularly pitiable.

Victor studied the Rager and the Raider intently, his gaze profound, his heart as calm as still water. After a few seconds of thought, he finally lowered the rapier in his hand and asked, “Do you fear death?”

“I’m scared… My King, please don’t kill me, okay?”

“Boo… hoo… hoo… King, you haven’t even given me a name… I don’t want to die.”

Victor’s brow furrowed. It was natural for living creatures to cling to life and fear death. When faced with a mortal crisis, the strong would unleash their potential, while the weak would flee for their lives. Yet these two Dragonoids, facing a threat from their master, neither fled nor fought back, but instead burst into tears. If they were alchemical creatures like Reno, they should have obeyed Victor’s command unconditionally. However, they also hadn’t executed the command to transform and then resist their master.

It was a huge step forward for alchemical creatures to understand and revere death, but resisting a command was another matter entirely.

The Dragonoids kept muttering about their master bestowing a name upon them. They were extraordinary creatures with authority over the Elemental Sea, so the Raging Wind Sword Saint certainly knew something was amiss. But their elemental authority was limited to their transformation; overall, they were still extraordinary creatures bound by the laws of reality. The elemental authority of the Sun Elf bloodline was undoubtedly far greater than theirs. Victor was filled with confidence in his control over his own bloodline and soul. He finally made a decision. In his Heart of Blazing Fire state, he communed with the Elemental Sea of Wind and, through a blessing of his will, bestowed names upon the two Dragonoids:

“I bestow upon you your true names. The Rager shall be Alektas… the Raider shall be Daphdilier.”

The Dragonoids’ eyes instantly shifted into draconic vertical pupils. A massive amount of information flooded into Victor’s mind simultaneously. X-3 processed this information in just 0.08 seconds, but Victor himself was stunned for a full two seconds before he came back to his senses. In that long moment, the two beautiful and alluring female Dragonoids had already drawn close to him, and were even sticking out their delicate pink tongues to lick his cheeks.

Victor pushed away the Dragonoids who were trying to get intimate with him, laughing at himself in exasperation. “If I’d known it was this simple, why did I have to go through all that trouble…”

Having been named by their master, the Dragonoids became even more affectionate toward Victor, once again winding around him and passionately vying for his favor.

“Stop… Hands off! Put on some clothes first….”

“My King, my clothes are gone.”

“King, my clothes are gone too.”

In the end, Alektas and Daphdilier obeyed Victor’s command and stood still.

Victor instructed a nearby alchemical militia, “Get them a set of leather armor and weapons.” Then he turned to the two Dragonoids and said, “There’s a band of Ogres in the Great Marsh to the west. They have invaded my fief, plundered my slaves and treasures. I want each of you to lead a squad of alchemical militia, kill one of the Ogres who dared to offend me, and bring me back its head.”

“Your will be done, My King (King),” the two Dragonoids said in unison, then turned and walked toward the fortress.

Half a day later, the Treasury of the mountain stronghold was filled with chests of precious metal ingots, gems, Crystal Glaze Rock, and rare medicinal herbs. Victor sat on a throne in the center of the Treasury. Daphdilier, draped in a spider-silk robe, curled her long, slender, and beautifully fair legs, sitting diagonally in front of the throne, pressed against Victor’s knees. Her eyes were half-closed, her gorgeous face a mask of lazy contentment.

It seemed like a sensuous, romantic scene, but Victor felt like he was petting a puppy.

Daphdilier was not a puppy, nor was she human. Even though her appearance was that of a beautiful and alluring woman, the pair of pure white horns on her head was proof enough of her non-human identity.

Strictly speaking, she was a Gold-rank alchemical unit with natural characteristics, and she was bound to Victor by a Dragon Pact.

Legend told of ancient Dragons forging sacred Dragon Pacts with Knights, bestowing upon their pact-bound Knights powerful draconic talents. The two would form a partner relationship, trusting each other implicitly. The proud Dragons would even allow their pact-bound Knights to sit upon their backs and soar with them through the vast sky.

A Dragon Rider sounded romantic and powerful, a wonderful thing to be. But Victor now knew that the so-called Dragon Pact was fundamentally a contract of enslavement. The relationship was equivalent to that between Lizardmen and Hydra Lizards, or Dragon-blooded Kobolds and Dragons. Although a Dragon Rider did indeed gain some draconic talents, what Knight would be willing to lose his free will and be reduced to the role of a servile Kobold?

When Victor communed with the Elemental Sea of Wind and used the will of the Raging Wind Sword Saint to grant the Dragonoids their true names, he had forged a Dragon Pact. Alektas’s and Daphdilier’s bodies, minds, and wills were completely subservient to Victor, and they received the favor of the wind element from him, increasing their Perception attribute by one point.

At the same time, Victor learned all information about the Dragonoids. No matter how far apart they were, he could sense their location and their physical and mental state, though he could not see or hear specific images or sounds through them.

This was a one-sided telepathic link in which Victor held the dominant position. He could summon his Dragonoid servants through his mental will, and he could make them feel pleasure and happiness or pain and despair, but he could not directly order them to self-destruct.

After all, the Dragonoid alchemical units did indeed possess the characteristics of natural creatures.

In reality, when Victor split off a bit of his Soul Fire to activate Alchemy Tower No. 7, he established an absolute liege-vassal relationship with all his alchemical creatures. The resonance of the Soul Fire was likely the principle behind a bloodline contract. It was just that other types of alchemical creatures were too weak and lacked the ability to communicate with the Elemental Sea, making it impossible to establish a mental channel with their master. They had to rely on spoken language to carry out their master’s will.

A black cat squeezed out from a corner of the Treasury, a half-eaten rat’s head in its mouth. It leaped onto a chest and began to lick its paws triumphantly. A thought flickered in Victor’s mind, and a trace of killing intent arose. Daphdilier immediately raised her head, her lake-green eyes shifting into draconic vertical pupils as she stared at the animal that had displeased her master.

Under the Fearful Gaze, the black cat seemed to be caught in a nightmare. Its body went completely stiff, and it soon lost its life.

The Dragonoids, linked telepathically with Victor, could grasp his intentions. Their coordination in battle was as seamless as moving his own limbs. This was far more valuable than a one-point increase to their Perception attribute.

Of course, the Dragon Pact placed a burden on the master’s vigor. Based on the actual situation with his two Dragonoid servants, Victor estimated he could control a maximum of six Dragonoids without weakening his own Spirit attribute.

Daphdilier sensed her king’s joy and assumed it was because she had just killed the castle cat. A smile touched her lips, and she rubbed her smooth, delicate cheek against the back of Victor’s hand.

Just then, the heavy doors of the Treasury were pushed open from the outside. The red-short-haired Alektas walked in, carrying two huge, ugly Ogre heads. She saw Daphdilier pressed close to their master’s throne, and her bright crimson eyes immediately sharpened into dangerous vertical pupils. She snapped angrily, “You hussy! That spot by My King’s side is mine!”

“King, she’s bullying me… Punish her, won’t you?” Daphdilier said coquettishly, hugging Victor’s arm.

Victor glanced at Alektas’s flawless, bare body, then pressed a hand to his forehead and said in exasperation, “Don’t either of you know you’re supposed to put on clothes before you see me?”

Chapter 733: The Anomaly

In the mountain stronghold, inhabited only by Alchemical humans, the Raging Wind Sword Saint didn’t mind his Dragonkin handmaiden’s state of undress, but the Ogre heads she was carrying were genuinely disgusting.

Sensing her master’s mood, Alexia casually tossed the two bloody Ogre heads outside the Treasury’s door. Then, she leaped into the fire-suppression pool on the left side of the Treasury to wash her body.

The optional matter of putting on clothes was clearly less important than driving away Daphdilier and reclaiming her own spot. After a few laps in the pool, Alexia jumped out and strode toward the throne in the center of the Treasury, her long, snow-white legs moving with menacing purpose.

After a bout of bickering and threatening glares between the two female Dragonoids, the less forceful Daphdilier yielded and moved to the other side of the throne. Alexia successfully seized the position closest to her master, resting her head on Victor’s lap and rubbing it gently, her intent to curry favor abundantly clear.

The water droplets on her body were shaken off as she walked, but her short, fiery-red hair remained damp, clinging together and revealing a pair of small, forward-curving horns.

The Dragonoid’s horns were pristine white and lustrous, glowing with a soft radiance, more extraordinarily beautiful than a priceless art treasure carved from the finest glazed rock. Victor couldn’t resist reaching out to gently stroke and play with them. Though the horns provided no sensation of touch, Alexia reveled in her master’s caress, closing her eyes as her breathing became fine and slow. Leaning against Victor’s knee, she actually drifted off into a dream.

Sleep for the Dragon race wasn’t just for rest; it was more for strengthening their Mind Bloodline and deciphering ancient memories. From the perspective of body language, Alexia, who manifested the Red Dragon Bloodline, was declaring her sovereignty through sleep. The Treasury of the mountain stronghold, the spot at her master’s feet—these were her territories. Even Victor himself was her most cherished treasure.

Victor had used the will of the Raging Wind Sword Saint to connect with the Elemental Sea of Wind and forge a Dragon Pact with Alexia and Daphdilier. To him, the Dragonoids no longer held any secrets. This also led Victor to discover many thorny issues.

The Dragonoid alchemical units were not originally part of the Alchemy Tower’s production list. The Alchemists of Mist Mountain had deduced the form of Dragonkin humans based on the ability of primordial humans to integrate with Bloodline Laws, and had designed the Dragonoid template from that. It was a fantasy based on academic theory, one that could only be realized if he could obtain Ancient Dragon Blood and conduct bloodline integration experiments on human subjects. But even then, the resulting Dragonkin humans would not necessarily be the Dragonoids envisioned by the Alchemists of Mist Mountain.

The logic was simple: a new race formed through bloodline integration had innumerable possibilities. The Alchemists of Mist Mountain were not the Creator, Taelon Ruier; the Dragonoid they deduced from their academic expertise represented only one of those possibilities.

This meant that the Dragonoids should not exist. It was the great power of the Laws of nature, combined with the void creation mechanism of Alchemy Tower No. 7, that had created this new alchemical unit—the Dragonoid.

They differed from the Dragonoids envisioned by the Alchemists of Mist Mountain in many ways. For instance, a Dragonoid’s pupils could switch between human round pupils and draconic vertical pupils, whereas the Dragonoid in the template library only had vertical pupils. When a Dragonoid transformed into a Dragonkin, their knee joints could bend forward or backward, but the Dragonkin deduced by the Tower Spirit King from the template data only had backward-bending joints… There were many other such minor differences, which even affected the Dragonoids’ Elemental Attributes and talents.

Of course, the root cause of the Dragonoid alchemical units’ creation was that drop of sealed Ancient Dragon Blood.

According to the Mind Bloodline secret art theory that Victor pioneered, Ancient Dragon Blood contained a vast amount of information. It could not only change the bloodline form of a primordial being but also reshape their mind and will. An ancient Dragon spreading its bloodline could be seen as another form of rebirth, a process that the Alchemists of Mist Mountain and Victor had helped it achieve.

Therefore, Victor was particularly worried that the Dragonoid alchemical units might rebel. Fortunately, his fears were unfounded.

Alchemy Tower No. 7 had erased the host’s will contained within the Ancient Dragon Blood, using only its Bloodline Law information. Although the ancient Dragon’s Bloodline Law was like a seed that would take root and sprout anew, the Tower’s creation mechanism was not to be underestimated—it directly eliminated the Dragonoid units’ ability to procreate.

Without procreation, there was no seed. The Dragonoid alchemical units, in accordance with the law of Soul Fire resonance, would obey only the will of the Tower Master, Victor.

They would not betray him!

The Alchemist of Mist Mountain had likely foreseen all of this long ago, creating the Dragonoid alchemical unit by leveraging the Laws of nature combined with the Tower’s power of creation.

However, the Tower’s power of void creation was part of the world’s fundamental laws. Since the Dragonoids’ creation process had introduced the Laws of natural evolution, they had aspects that the Alchemy Tower could control, but also aspects that exceeded the Tower’s creation authority.

The most prominent problem was the personality of the Dragonoid units.

Alchemical creatures were all made as consumables, and cannon fodder didn’t need personality. Thus, the alchemical creatures produced by Alchemy Tower No. 7 only had bestial instincts and no personalities; even the Will Side of Alchemical humans had no personality content loaded. They were wooden and dull, hardworking and stoic, but in terms of personality they were like infants, needing to learn to gradually imitate the personalities of others.

When the Alchemists of Mist Mountain designed the Dragonoid template, they similarly did not load any personality content for them. In fact, the Dragonoid template was neither a combat unit nor a labor unit but a plaything for the powerful nobles of the Alchemical Empire. The Will Side of Alexia and Daphdilier was full of all sorts of inappropriate things.

Victor guessed that the Alchemists of Mist Mountain, under the pretense of creating plaything alchemical units, had deceived the corrupt nobles of the Empire to obtain resources and political support for their secret, forbidden research. But before he could address the issue of restraining the will of the new alchemical units, his experiment was terminated.

Victor had no way of knowing the specific reasons; he only knew that he had inherited a huge mess left behind by the Alchemists of Mist Mountain.

Dragons were Legendary creatures, possessing extraordinary wisdom and talent, as well as powerful Dragon Instincts. How could designing the Will Side of a Dragonoid using the template for a human possibly work? Moreover, since the Dragonoid units were completed by the Laws of nature, their bestial instincts were particularly strong, and they would form draconic personalities and worldviews based on them.

The Alchemists of Mist Mountain had solved the hardware problem of the Dragonoids but hadn’t prepared the corresponding software in advance.

Perhaps Victor was demanding too much from that ancient Alchemist, but regardless, a fatal flaw in the Dragonoid units was now laid bare before him.

Influenced by the void element, different types of dragons had their own natures. Red dragons were irritable and forceful; green dragons were lazy and insidious; brass dragons were stubborn; blue dragons were highly curious, yet cold and undisciplined.

Take Alexia and Daphdilier, for example. They obeyed Victor’s will and went to the Great Marsh to hunt the Ogre invaders. Daphdilier killed one Ogre and immediately rushed back to the mountain stronghold to fawn over Victor. Alexia killed two Ogres and it still wasn’t enough; she continued to track the others. Victor could feel her burning instinct to hunt. If he hadn’t summoned Alexia back, the female Dragonoid would have certainly charged into the Ogres’ territory and gone on a slaughtering spree.

The two Dragonoids were not currently bound by the moral constraints of human society. Them running around naked was a minor issue, but they would eat people!

The newly created Alchemical militia, having received no orders from Victor, would let themselves be beaten to death without knowing how to fight back. This sort of thing had happened more than once, which was why Victor had ordered the Alchemical militia to first receive common-sense training at the mountain stronghold. But the Dragonoids had tempers, and their tempers were directly proportional to their Gold-rank strength.

In the Will Side of Alexia and Daphdilier, Victor was the sovereign of a dragon kingdom, their Dominator, a treasure to be protected. All other alchemical creatures were the Dragon King’s slaves and property. They believed that although they were also the Dragon King’s slaves and spouses, their status was certainly higher than those lowly slaves.

And what were ordinary humans?

Food, toys, potential slaves of the lowest tier… One could only imagine what these two incredibly jealous Dragonkin handmaidens would do if Victor were being intimate with Nicole, Charlotte, and the others.

To be honest, Nicole and Charlotte truly couldn’t handle the Dragonkin handmaidens, to say nothing of Lilia and the others.

Fortunately, Victor had established a Dragon Pact with the two Dragonkin handmaidens. Not only did they have a telepathic link, but the Dragonoids also gained a sliver of divine favor from the wind element. Most importantly, with their master as their anchor, they could retrieve their memories and emotions from the Elemental Sea of Wind. As long as Victor’s will existed, Alexia and Daphdilier would not face Annihilation.

As the sovereign of the Dragon Pact, it was easy for Victor to reshape the habits and personalities of his Dragonkin handmaidens. He would absolutely not let them undergo savage growth and do anything out of line.

Victor had to be thankful for his own power. If the Tower Master were an ordinary person, he would have no solution to the problem of the Dragonoid alchemical units.

Nothing good ever comes from a weak master and a strong servant.

However, with the spiritual power of the Raging Wind Sword Saint, Victor could at most enslave six Gold-rank Dragonoids. What was he to do with the others?

The second Ant-man war was approaching, and Victor hoped to have ten Gold-rank Dragonoid units under his command. They wouldn’t betray the Tower Master, but they also possessed a strong and distinct self-awareness. For the Alchemy Tower, this was a major step forward, because wooden and dull alchemical creatures were fearless, but also died very easily. Only alchemical units with self-awareness could assess situations and fully utilize their own power.

If a Dragonoid, worth over two hundred thousand Gold Sol, was destroyed in a few minutes on the battlefield, not just the Centaur Hills, but the entire human kingdoms couldn’t withstand that kind of attrition.

The Dragonkin’s aura of fear was indeed powerful, but it was not enough to stand against the psychic wave of a herd mentality. If they didn’t know how to use their wisdom to protect themselves, the Ant-men could send them back to the forge in an instant. If he had to use Dragonoids as cannon fodder, Victor would be better off not making them at all, lest he go bankrupt and become a pauper.

The current dilemma was that the Dragonoids’ draconic nature was stronger than their humanity, making them incompatible with the political and military system Victor had painstakingly built. He felt it necessary to write a Dragonkin Servant’s Educational Manual to brainwash the Dragonoids and make them understand that they were Alchemical humans who had mastered draconic talents, not the other way around.

Victor hoped the Dragonoids would integrate into the military force he had built, playing a role akin to Gold Knights. The image of the extraordinarily powerful and talented Dragonoids leading the elites of the House of Randell, galloping across the battlefield, would surely be a magnificent one.

To educate his Dragonkin servants, he first had to understand their draconic nature. Victor’s telepathic link allowed him to perceive the two Dragonkin handmaidens’ locations and emotions, but he couldn’t peer into their chaotic and ever-changing thoughts.

It would be best to keep them by his side to train them, but their appearance and bearing were too outstanding, and then there were the horns… The Dragonoids’ delicate and beautiful faces could be hidden with a mask, but the horns alone made it clear they weren’t human… Victor flicked Alexia’s horn with his finger and couldn’t help but rant, “It’d be great if I could just saw them off.”

Daphdilier, curled up on the other side of the throne, opened her lake-green eyes at his words. She silently rose from the steps, went to the back to find an Adamantine-Thorium dagger, and quietly handed it to Victor.

Alexia, who considered herself in the superior position, became furious at the sight. She glared fiercely at the green-haired Daphdilier, then hugged Victor’s knee, lifted her beautiful face, and advised, “My King, if you want horns, I will saw off Daphdilier’s and present them to you.”

“The King said he wants to saw off your horns…”

“He did not!”

The two Dragonoids began to argue again. Victor cupped Alexia’s delicate, pointed chin and laughed heartily. “What’s the use of sawing it off? It’ll just grow back the next time you transform… I’ll have Busuo forge a set of battle armor and a horned helm for you both, to cover your eyes and horns. That way, no one will be able to discover your draconic identity.”

“King, I want those… those, and those materials to make the armor and horned helm,” Daphdilier said, her eyes shining as she pointed to the Saron Demon Iron, Mithril, Adamantine, and element crystals in the Treasury.

“In your dreams. Even the best armor would be destroyed on your bodies. You can only wear the cheapest, most material-efficient armor.” Standing up, he ruffled both Dragonkin handmaidens’ hair and instructed, “I will come to see you often, but for now, you are to stay in the mountain stronghold and follow Busuo’s arrangements.”

This was a direct command. The Dragonkin handmaidens replied in unison, “We obey My King’s (the King’s) will.”

Taking both Dragonkin handmaidens with him now would surely cause trouble, and His Highness Randell couldn’t stay in the mountain stronghold every day, leaving his vassals unable to find their liege lord.

He returned to Silver Moon Manor alone, taking time out every afternoon to visit the mountain stronghold and train his Dragonkin handmaidens. The mornings and evenings were spent at the manor accompanying his wives and handling some family affairs. During this period, he also had trysts with Sylvia and Trisley at Red Frost Tree Manor.

Sylvia and his other ladies knew that their lover had a Shamaness under his command, and that the Mind Bloodline secret art was derived through her. Because this “Shamaness” was connected to the God-favored Father Miller, Sylvia strictly forbade anyone from asking Victor about her. Everyone assumed His Highness Randell was discussing the Mind Bloodline secret art with the Shamaness, so his unusual behavior didn’t seem so unusual after all.

Besides training Alexia and Daphdilier, Victor also sacrificed another eight hundred fifty thousand Gold Sol to the Alchemy Tower, requesting that the Tower Spirit King produce another female Dragonoid Raider, a female Ripper, and two male Protectors.

The Rager was without a doubt the strongest Dragonoid alchemical unit. The Raider, on the other hand, had the lowest Spirit attribute at only 26, seemingly making her the weakest Dragonoid, but her cost-effectiveness was the highest.

The Raider’s Dragon’s Rage talent increased her strength and agility by 20 percent. Other Dragonoids’ Dragon’s Rage increased theirs by 30 percent, and the Rager’s by a startling 50 percent. But the Raider’s Dragon’s Rage lasted twice as long as other Dragonoids’, and her Dragonkin transformation also lasted twice as long, reaching an astonishing 160 minutes. Furthermore, the cooldown times for all her draconic talents, including the Dragonkin transformation, were shorter.

They combined both strength and agility, possessed the longest operational lifespan and the most effective regeneration ability, and though their nature was lazy and insidious, they were the most mild-tempered of the dragon bloodlines.

The other Dragonoids were not nearly as easy to get along with.

Ragers loved to throw tantrums, and to make matters worse, they possessed the most terrifying Dragon’s Might. They were truly the type to kill with a glare. Victor had enough on his hands with Alexia for now; another red dragon bloodline Dragonoid would only increase his spiritual burden.

The Ripper Dragonoid’s talents overlapped with the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s domain, allowing for maximum synergy with Victor in combat. The Protector Dragonoids, however, could compensate for Victor’s shortcomings, being better suited for breaking through enemy lines and sweeping all before them on a frontal battlefield.

No matter how fast a Ripper was, she could never be faster than His Highness Randell, so one was enough. He could produce two Protectors; Victor counted on them to act as meat shields, drawing enemy fire to protect more of his elite warriors.

Alchemy Tower No. 7 needed nine days to produce one Dragonoid unit. Following Victor’s instructions, the Tower Spirit King first added one Raider and then produced one Ripper.

Victor named the second Raider Daphgriel, and the Ripper Megfiawen. He now had four Dragonoid handmaidens, nicknamed Laila, Dili, Frey, and Mewen respectively.

All four Dragonkin handmaidens were temporarily residing in the mountain stronghold, and Victor found great pleasure in training them every day. On the twenty-seventh day, he quietly arrived at the alchemical cavern in the Hill Secret Fortress, ready to welcome his first male Dragonoid servant.

But the Tower Spirit King dealt His Highness Randell a stunning blow.

The Element Extraction Altar was empty. There was no sign of a tall, powerful Dragonoid Protector in the alchemical cavern. His Highness Randell stood with his hands behind his back, his expression as still as a statue. A shimmering light flashed in his dark gold eyes, a golden radiance rising from their corners like mist, indicating that his mood was anything but calm.

“King, I didn’t quite understand what you just said. Please repeat it.” Victor’s thoughts surged like a cold blade, and the air around him rippled outwards in circles.

“Yes,” the Tower Spirit King replied flatly. “Three days ago, at 4 PM, I suddenly received a command from an Inspector-Envoy of the Alchemical Empire to halt the production of the Protector and initiate the self-repair mechanism. Alchemy Tower No. 7 then automatically began its self-repair function. The Rune Crystal is absorbing void elements to perfect its foundational-level defects. This process, which I have no authority to terminate, will take a total of 86 years, 4 months, 11 days, and 21 hours. Until the Alchemy Tower’s Rune Crystal is fully repaired, Alchemy Tower No. 7 cannot produce any more alchemical units.”

Victor asked faintly, “So you have a self-repair and upgrade function after all. Why were you so desperate to integrate with other Rune Crystals?”

“My lord, I can find no information about a self-repair function in my Will Side,” the King responded.

“In other words, Alchemy Tower No. 7 has a backdoor that I don’t know about and have no authority to use?”

“Backdoor… that is consistent with the Alchemical Empire’s logic for restricting the Tower Master and Tower Spirit. You can understand it that way.”

“Then… who is this so-called Inspector-Envoy of the Alchemical Empire? Don’t tell me he’s some old relic who’s been slumbering for over twenty-eight thousand years and has now crawled out of his grave,” Victor asked, his will turning grim. He was exceptionally panicked, his mind filled with the image of Sylvia’s peerless, perfect face.

“I do not know. Other than you, My lord, I have not communicated with the consciousness of any second person,” the King replied, then added after a pause, “My lord, you can only communicate with my consciousness when you are within 10 meters of Alchemy Tower No. 7’s Rune Crystal.”

The shimmering light in Victor’s dark gold eyes instantly calmed. He mused, “Are you saying the Inspector-Envoy of the Alchemical Empire entered the cavern?”

“That is a possibility… Or perhaps his control over the Alchemy Tower has a greater range than yours.”

Without hesitation, Victor turned and summoned the alchemical militia guarding the cavern. He asked him, “Did anyone come in here three days ago in the afternoon?”

The alchemical militia shook his head and answered truthfully, “No one.”

Unwilling to give up, Victor pressed, “Then did anyone enter the Hill Secret Fortress that day?”

“Yes,” the alchemical militia nodded and said respectfully. “It was the young handmaiden you brought in from the outside four years ago. You even ordered me at the time to kill her and the big simpleton if I received no new orders before dark.”

Victor’s turbulent emotions instantly sank to rock bottom. He muttered to himself, “Beldina… So she was part of Father Miller’s scheme…”

Chapter 734: Tacit Understanding

Victor and the Tower Spirit King believed that absorbing different Rune Crystals was an emergency repair method for the Alchemy Tower during wartime, a simple and crude measure that the Tower Master could employ.

If the Alchemy Tower had an emergency repair method, it naturally followed that it had a normal one. Just as there were things a Tower Master could do, there were surely things they could not. If Tower Masters could accomplish anything, what was the need for Alchemists?

Victor was now convinced that the offspring left behind by the Creator Taelon Ruier—the primordial humans with elemental affinity, the Gold Knights who could command the power of the Elemental Sea—had served as Alchemists in the ancient Alchemical Empire.

For a Knight, the perfect balance of the four elements was the source of their power, and the unity of mind and body was their outward manifestation. If they were to split off a piece of their Soul Fire, the elemental balance would be broken. An initial-rank Knight would inevitably become a mortal, while a High-ranked Knight would simply be assimilated by the Elemental Sea. From this, it was clear that an ancient Alchemist could not have become a Tower Master.

It was only logical that the Alchemists, as the rulers of the Alchemical Empire, would have placed limitations on the weapons of war they created. Due to the nature of Soul Fire resonance, a Tower Master could exercise absolute control over alchemical units, but their status within the Alchemical Empire would not have been very high; they were merely wielders of war machines. The Alchemists, on the other hand, must have at least been able to shut down an Alchemy Tower without being attacked by its alchemical creatures. In truth, their authority lay in the very architecture of the Alchemy Tower itself.

This was a domain Victor could not yet touch.

If the Alchemical Empire were to renew its civilization, a complete Alchemy Tower would one day be made public for High-ranked Knights to analyze its architectural principles. If not now, then in the future; if not here, then elsewhere; if not Alchemy Tower No. 7, then another.

Victor could not stop the arrangements of the ancient Alchemists. They were beings who had created the Lord of Radiance and mastered the art of Great Divination.

The problem was the powers that had destroyed the Alchemical Empire. They, or They, would do everything in their power to obstruct its revival. If not for Their interference, the Alchemical Empire should have begun its rebirth the moment the Lord of Radiance descended. But the result was that the Council of the Chosen—an important legacy force of the Alchemical Empire—was kicked out of the game, causing the High-ranked Knights to become the lords they were today, rather than Alchemists who had mastered the Law of void creation.

His Highness Randell was caught between two powerful forces, a truly dangerous position. The slightest misstep could result in a powerful counterattack from mysterious forces, turning him into cannon fodder for the ancient Alchemists.

From a time when he was still very weak, Victor had made up his mind: he would never become a sacrifice in the process of the Alchemical Empire’s revival. His focus was on increasing his own power and developing his own forces. If he encountered an inheritance from the Alchemists, he would take what he could easily get and abandon what was difficult to seize.

In any case, the position of Tower Master was a lowly one. Even if the Alchemical Empire were to be revived because of Alchemy Tower No. 7, it would be of little benefit to Viscount Randell, and would instead entail enormous risk.

But the Guardian of the Gambis Kingdom, My lord Gold-Eyed Earl, His Highness the Raging Wind Sword Saint, the Mind’s Dominator Victor—he was different. He had analyzed the mysteries of alchemical creatures and pioneered the Mind Bloodline secret art. With his Mind Warriors about to take shape, he didn’t care even if Alchemy Tower No. 7 was damaged.

Holding so many trump cards, Victor had already made his plans. When the time was right, he would share Alchemy Tower No. 7 with Sylvia, allowing the Spirit Knight to analyze the secrets of void creation, and let their offspring inherit the Alchemists’ legacy. If the Alchemical Empire were to be revived, the House of Randell, holding the legacy of the Mind Warriors, would still be a vital pillar of the Empire’s political core, standing up to the Knight-Alchemists and the Church clergy as an equal.

The current situation was this: the faster Alchemy Tower No. 7 was repaired, the faster its Tower Master would surely die.

Therefore, even though there was a well-preserved Alchemy Tower ruin deep within the Giantstone Mountains, Victor had not sent a single team to explore it. But he anticipated that the Force of Destiny would compel him in various ways to fulfill his mission as Tower Master. The Gold-rank Dragonkin servants and the new, nature-aspected alchemy-tower system were carrots dangled to tempt him, while the Anomaly in Alchemy Tower No. 7 was a whip from the Force of Destiny to spur on a lazy Tower Master—or perhaps even to replace him.

However, the wonders of destiny always caught people off guard.

Victor had never imagined that a God-favored of the Lord of Radiance would push the little foodie Beldina to the forefront!

He wouldn’t have been so astonished if Sylvia herself had appeared here. Although he knew full well that Father Miller regarded Beldina with exceptional importance, the little foodie was a Wizard!

In the blueprint Victor had designed, Knight-Alchemists were not as important as one might think. The Alchemy Tower was merely an auxiliary tool for the knight class, not a decisive military force.

On one hand, even if High-ranked Knights mastered the technology of void creation, their level of Alchemy could never reach that of the ancient Alchemical Empire. On the other hand, Alchemy was far too resource-intensive. Over-reliance on Alchemy Towers would inevitably drag down the entire human kingdoms. Even the ancient Alchemists and Archmages had created the Lord of Radiance to coalesce the power of the mind of mortals, thereby gradually reducing their use of Alchemy Towers.

Today, the Radiant Church had awakened the Lord of Radiance and established the Pool of Holy Power, relentlessly training Paladins, priests, and Sacred Warriors. The Mind Warriors Victor had painstakingly cultivated could also fill a void in the military legacy of the human kingdoms, leaving not much room for the Alchemy Towers to play a role.

In a sense, according to Victor’s plan, the reappearance of the alchemical civilization would not be a rebirth, but rather an absorption by the human kingdoms.

Whether Victor’s wishes were fulfilled or not, the Alchemists’ empire would ultimately never replace the human kingdoms. After all, the Wizard class was already out of the game.

The Church’s theological system had developed for over nine thousand years. The clergy had elevated the Lord of Radiance to the supreme divine throne and cast Wizards as their opposition, a situation that could no longer be reversed. Wizards were destined to be nothing more than rats in the gutter, and the Alchemy Towers, with their power of creation, had to remain hidden in the shadows, lest they shake the very foundations of the Radiant Church.

The Lord of Radiance or the Alchemy Tower—which was more important?

This question required no consideration at all. Anyone with a functioning brain knew they should choose the Lord of Radiance.

Although Miller operated on the fringes of the Church’s power, as a top-tier God-favored of the Lord of Radiance, he himself was the Church’s most powerful backer. The decisions Father Miller made could transcend the physical plane and have extremely far-reaching consequences. Although, from the Holy See’s perspective, Father Miller had done plenty to betray his own side, those were minor matters. If he attempted to help the little wizard Beldina seize Alchemy Tower No. 7 from His Highness Randell, allowing Wizards to revive the alchemical civilization, there was a very high probability it would overturn the theological system the Radiant Church had painstakingly built, tantamount to betraying the Lord of Radiance.

Victor didn’t believe Miller would do such a thing. This matter was either a path of destiny arranged by other beings, unrelated to Father Miller, or an unknown disaster was so imminent that Father Miller could no longer afford to be concerned with much else.

The reasoning was simple. The Raging Wind Sword Saint was powerful and extraordinarily wise; standing tall and seeing far gave him too many choices and freedoms. His Highness Randell was influential and his reputation was revered; his words and actions could rally the wishes of the people. It would be difficult for a Force of Destiny, similar to Great Divination, to shake the firmly established foundation of My lord Gold-Eyed Earl.

Victor was not the late King Ryan; he was Sylvia’s husband. On what grounds could Great Divination borrow power from a Spirit Knight to use against him?

In comparison, Beldina was like rootless duckweed. No matter how much potential she might have in the future, right now she was especially susceptible to the machinations of the Force of Destiny. For the Raging Wind Sword Saint, whose Nemesis talent lay in wait, the little wizard’s life or death rested on his whim. On what grounds could she possibly seize control of the Alchemy Tower from Victor?

Unless she was incapable of taking the right to use Alchemy Tower No. 7, and she was a key figure who could help Victor eliminate the unknown disaster.

If Beldina fulfilled the second condition, Victor could temporarily take her in, so long as it didn’t endanger him. If both conditions were met, he was willing to establish a closer relationship with Bel, even imparting to her precious mysteries of the Laws, helping her become a top-tier extraordinary being.

Since the theological system, which relied on the faith of the populace, could no longer support the Mages’ Association, the alchemical civilization could only be absorbed by the human kingdoms. The political structure of the Alchemical Empire must absolutely not be revived. The tacit understanding between the lords and the clergy was the tacit understanding between Victor and Miller. Beldina might have been the protagonist for the revival of the Alchemical Empire, but Father Miller had likely corrected her lifeline of destiny, making her an aide to both him and His Highness Randell in their joint effort to avert the unknown, immense disaster.

Having clarified the logical connections between himself, Miller, and Beldina, the cold killing intent that had been brewing in his heart rapidly melted away. Victor pondered for a long while, deciding he still had to test Father Miller’s true attitude.

“King, for the Rune Crystal to draw void elements and naturally repair Alchemy Tower No. 7 to its base level, it would take more than eighty years… I want to know, can you still absorb the Rune Crystals of other Alchemy Towers? If you can, after you absorb a Rune Crystal, can the repair time for Alchemy Tower No. 7 be drastically shortened… just like last time, when you absorbed the Rune Crystal from the Misty Mountains, it only took a few dozen hours to repair the memory upload and element adjustment functions.”

The Tower Spirit replied, “My lord, the emergency repair function of Alchemy Tower No. 7 is normal. The repair time depends on the quality of the absorbed Rune Crystal.”

Victor gave a slight, derisive smile. Just as the Dragonoid units and the new alchemy had thoroughly piqued his interest, the little foodie had put Alchemy Tower No. 7 on standby for more than eighty years. This was the Force of Destiny urging him to go to the Giantstone Mountains, collect the Rune Crystal, and complete Alchemy Tower No. 7.

The emergency repair function of the Alchemy Tower had inherent flaws. Alchemy Tower No. 7 had absorbed two Rune Crystals, and while it could still operate, its architecture was indeed having issues. A low-level alchemy tower doing the work of a high-level one would break down sooner or later. If not for the Dragonoid units and the Law of natural integration, Victor would have been indifferent to the tower’s damage. He had no immediate plans to explore the alchemy tower ruins in the Giantstone Mountains.

Moreover, even if the Dragonoid units could compensate for the shortcomings in Victor’s high-end combat forces, they were not indispensable. In fact, Victor had already gotten what he wanted from the Dragonoids—the Apostle.

The Dragonoids embodied the思路of applied integration of natural Law. That was the real treasure.

Considering all these factors, Victor was basically certain that Miller had no intention of breaking their tacit understanding.

Bel’s actual age was twenty-six, but she looked only ten. Her lifespan should be very long, perhaps even longer than Victor’s. If she were meant to control the Alchemy Tower, she should have waited until after Alchemy Tower No. 7 was damaged and abandoned by Victor, then quietly repaired and occupied it. For Bel to enter Victor’s line of sight now, the traces of the Force of Destiny were revealed too early and were too obvious. The little wizard could be killed by Victor at any moment.

In that case, wouldn’t the arrangements of the great ancient Alchemists and Archmages be thrown into turmoil?

It must have been Father Miller who secretly interfered with the course of destiny, putting events back on the “right track” for Victor and himself.

His thoughts and deductions came to a close. Victor left Hill Camp and, with his hand on the hilt of his sword, walked in the direction of Silver Moon Manor.

At Silver Moon Manor, more than ten kilometers away, Beldina was taking a nap. Her appetite was always impressive, and after eating her fill, she would be overcome with yawns, needing to find a place to sleep before she could be lively and energetic again. The rules for a Silver Moon Attendant were ineffective on Bel, so today, as was her custom, she was sound asleep in her little room.

A gentle breeze softly brushed across Bel’s chubby little face, lifting a strand of hair to tickle her cheek. Bel drowsily raised a hand to scratch the itch, turned over, and continued her deep sleep. Perhaps she was dreaming of some delicacy, for she smacked her lips with her eyes closed, drool trickling from the corner of her mouth onto the pillow.

The carefree little girl had no idea that a gentle breeze could also become a tangible yet formless, throat-cutting blade.

Victor continued to walk forward, but his Nemesis-sight had shifted to the Church in Laketon.

Father Miller, wearing his priest’s coronet and a washed-out, yellowed flax-white robe, stood behind the lectern holding an ancient-looking, beast-hide bible, preparing for the believers’ evening prayer. A sudden whirlwind spun up inside the room, messing his beard and hair. The young church attendants stared in astonishment as Esteemed Master Miller, looking flustered, pressed down on his fluttering coronet and glared, appearing quite angry.

Across a distance of eighteen kilometers, Victor and Father Miller’s gazes met. The Raging Wind Sword Saint understood the God-favored’s meaning, and the God-favored also knew the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s choice—he would not be ruthless and kill Beldina.

A series of clear memories flashed through Victor’s mind. He recalled the day Shirley confessed her love to him, and Beldina’s timely appearance had saved him from embarrassment. Then he had gone to see Father Miller, and before leaving, he hadn’t immediately returned the Marvelous Crystal from the Misty Mountains to the secret fortress, but had instead tossed it into a drawer in his study.

Bel was in the study too!

Changing direction in an instant, Victor shot toward Hill Secret Fortress like a weightless phantom.

In the blink of an eye, he reappeared inside the Alchemy Tower’s cavern. The militia guards of Hill Secret Fortress, on his orders, retrieved the Marvelous Crystal and delivered it into their master’s hands.

Carefully examining the mysterious Marvelous Crystal, Victor’s dark gold pupils instantly contracted. The three-dimensional runes inside the crystal had been rearranged!

“King, try to integrate with this Marvelous Crystal!” Victor placed the crystal in his hand on the stone platform.

The Element Extraction Altar, shaped like an altar, split open in response. The Rune Crystal transformed into four void runes, merging as one with the Marvelous Crystal suspended in mid-air.

After the Marvelous Crystal had completely disappeared, Victor commanded in his mind, “Present all information from the Marvelous Crystal to me.”

“As you wish, my lord,” the King responded.

A torrent of ancient information, preserved by the Alchemists of Mist Mountain, flooded into Victor’s mind.

Chapter 735: The Alchemist’s Diary (Part 1)

A massive flood of information instantly slammed into Victor’s Will Side, like having a hundred foot-thick books crammed into his brain at once. Even with his Saint-realm spiritual power, he felt as if his head was about to explode.

X-3 immediately terminated his brain’s information-reading function, mobilizing all of his spiritual power to forcibly copy the chronologically chaotic information. The Heart of Flame was pushed to its absolute limit; Victor’s hair and eyes turned a brilliant gold, his skin began to flush red, and the rising temperature of his body created ripples of heat in the surrounding air. When the heatwaves collided with the damp, cold air of the cave, clouds of white mist instantly billowed forth.

Victor’s head throbbed, threatening to split open. He managed to contain the information, but he didn’t dare divert his attention to read it, fearing his Will Side would collapse.

This wasn’t because the amount of information in the Marvelous Crystal was too vast for Victor’s brain to hold. The concepts of past, present, and future formed the most fundamental operating principle of the Will Side; all memories, cognitions, and logical thoughts were built on the axis of time’s progression. For an ordinary person, information not read in chronological order would be nothing but meaningless fragments, which the brain would simply ignore and not commit to memory. Victor was only able to copy these fragmented pieces of information thanks to his formidable spiritual power, but even so, his Will Side had nearly ceased to function.

No wonder the Tower Spirit always communicated with him through speech. Although reading information at the level of the soul was most efficient, it negated the logical form of a ‘human’ Will Side, belonging to another mode of cognition beyond the scope of time and space.

Even so, X-3 proactively rejected any information completely lacking a time stamp, treating it as redundant junk and purging it all. This primarily consisted of theoretical knowledge of ancient Alchemy, which accounted for over ninety percent of the total information. But it didn’t matter; Alchemy Tower No. 7 had already copied everything, including that precious alchemical knowledge.

When he had the time, Victor could access the Alchemy theories step by step through the Tower Spirit King. Right now, what he needed most was a good rest.

The information transfer had taken less than a tenth of a second, yet Victor had to remain in the state of the Soul of Water Mist to nourish his body and mind, slumbering for a full five hours before his vigor was restored. Only then did he begin to sort through the information X-3 had stored in his mind.

That Marvelous Crystal was a unique information storage medium for ancient Alchemists, equivalent to today’s hide paper books. The only difference was that the Marvelous Crystal was encrypted; without the corresponding decryption method, it could never be opened.

Beldina’s Wizardry ability had unlocked the Marvelous Crystal, allowing Victor to glimpse the mysteries within. The original owner of this memory crystal was an Alchemist named Isocrates from over twenty-eight thousand years ago. It recorded his experiment notes, along with some daily trivialities.

The human language from the late Alchemical Empire was a direct predecessor of the current Common Tongue, but its nouns, titles, social customs, and linguistic habits differed from those of the present day. Victor organized the information along a timeline, taking the opportunity to substitute in contemporary terms and titles.

The main contents of Isocrates’s diary were as follows:

“Today, my team finally reached the elemental convergence point in the Misty Mountains. Thank Faltock, his sacrifice was not in vain. The void element here is balanced and rich, enough to support a Level 10 Alchemy Tower. I firmly believe this is the first step to creating my miracle. Everyone is as happy as I am, except for that fat pig Barkley… He’s not an Alchemist, not an Elementalist; not a Mage, not an apprentice. He’s not even an Awakened—neither elemental awakening nor Law awakening has anything to do with him. As a mortal, the beasts and monsters of the forest are far too dangerous for him… I don’t understand how that fat pig endured the pain of having his soul split, but he has a powerful uncle… For the sake of the Saron Demon Iron and the Blue Taro, I’ll take good care of Barkley.”

“It’s been ten days since we arrived at the elemental convergence point, and we haven’t even started building the tower’s foundational alchemical formation. The monsters here are even more numerous than expected. I need to clear a safe zone first, but Barkley adamantly refuses to reassign the Red Demon warriors at his side. He’s terrified for his own safety, yet he spends his days hiding in his wooden hut, tormenting his Barbarian slave girls… This is fine. As long as he isn’t killed by those Other-race slave girls, I’d rather he just stay in bed.”

“Day thirty-six. The Highest Council’s Inspector arrived, as is customary, to check on the construction progress of the Alchemy Tower. He was shocked that we’ve accomplished nothing. I regretfully informed the Inspector that the nearby Dragon-blooded Kobolds stole the precious resources for building the foundational formation. We lost three crates of Saron Demon Iron, six crates of Mithril, more than three hundred element crystals, and most importantly, the Blue Taro. The Inspector was skeptical of my story… It’s time for Barkley to step in.”

“The nearby Floro City-state has replenished our ‘lost’ resources. Haha! With these, I can build the new Alchemy Tower’s foundational formation according to my own design… I think it will one day be known as the ‘Isocrates’ alchemical formation.”

“The new alchemical formation is more refined and more complex than traditional ones, posing a challenge for the six Elementalists under my command… Fortunately, our supply of Blue Taro is still plentiful. I can work them to my heart’s content, just as Tutor Douglas once worked me.”

“The brand-new foundational alchemical formation for the tower is finally complete. No one was assimilated by the elements, otherwise I’d have to apply to the Highest Council for new Elementalist assistants… Tutor Douglas warned me that protecting one’s own Elementalists is the first step toward an Alchemist’s success. If an Alchemist has to replace his Elementalists while building his first tower, he will surely become infamous, and no Elementalist will ever be willing to serve him again… I find it strange that three of my fellow students were assimilated by the elements under Tutor Douglas’s watch. I never dared ask him why. Perhaps it’s because Tutor Douglas is already famous… I too hope to establish a renowned house of Elementalists. I asked my tutor how to protect the Elementalists who follow me, and his answer was simple: resources and connections. That’s why I have to thank Barkley. Though he’s a loathsome sight, he has an uncle who’s a Highest Councilor.”

“Today, Tutor Douglas and Archmage Pegaro Rowen of the Highest Council graced Mist Mountain with their presence. They brought the undying Soul Fire. Once I activate the foundational alchemical formation, Barkley will officially become a Tower Master. And my plan is only just beginning… By the way, Archmage Pegaro Rowen and Barkley look so much alike. They are uncle and nephew, after all… Hmm, or maybe father and son.”

“The Alchemy Tower is complete. Master Pegaro issued the certificate of acceptance in advance, so now no one will disturb my secret research… As part of my deal with Tower Master Barkley, I have to design some beautiful alchemical creatures for him. Barkley claims it’s to curry favor with some important figures. I think he just wants to satisfy his own lusts… That damned slave trader. I can’t let him actually die before I succeed… though I would be more than happy to do it myself. The Elementalists would all love to kill him too, especially Miss Raven.”

“The Elementalists completed the framework I designed, and the Alchemy Tower produced its first alchemical unit—a beautiful human female. Tower Master Barkley couldn’t wait to personally verify her functions… To be honest, creating a doll is a humiliation for me, and for the Elementalists. But I need Barkley’s influence, and I need his uncle to prioritize supplying us with resources.”

“Everyone except Barkley is dejected. That plaything of an alchemical unit will make us the laughingstock of the Alchemists and the noble houses. I gave the Elementalists a two-month-long holiday, allowing them to go to Floro City to relax and unwind. Miss Raven didn’t leave. She came to my residence alone… This was her thirty-fourth attempt to stay the night in my bedroom, and this time, I didn’t refuse her. But I swear I was absolutely not influenced by Barkley… We ran out of Blue Taro. Raven needed to relax. I have to protect my Elementalists.”

“The way Miss Raven furrows her brow is very… special. She reminds me of Ann, and the Alchemist who stole Ann from my side. I don’t know if Raven had a lover before, but I don’t care at all. It’s ridiculous; I used to hate Ann and that Alchemist so much. I swore I would avenge Ann’s betrayal and the Alchemist’s arrogance. That’s why I walked the path of an Elementalist… But now, all I feel for them is gratitude, and I’ve become as arrogant as that Alchemist… In the future, I will be even more arrogant than him!”

“I seem to be lost in Raven’s tenderness. This is actually a benefit that the Ring of Taelon Ruier brings to Alchemists. We are not like naturally-advanced Elementalists; we possess more humanity, and our souls are not so easily assimilated by the Elemental Sea. In truth, I know what Raven wants from me. She, Ann, and I are not from noble houses; it’s not easy for us to obtain Blue Taro. Elementalists frequently manifest the void element and usually don’t live to be ninety. Only the Ring of Taelon Ruier can allow her to freely navigate the Elemental Sea and become an Alchemist. I hope I can secure a spot for her… My Elementalists have all returned, but I have no Blue Taro. All work must be paused… I need to talk to Barkley.”

“The supply of Blue Taro is ample, and my work is progressing smoothly. It’s all thanks to the slave trader. He actually sold the alchemical dolls to three nearby City-states in exchange for a great deal of resources. But my reputation has been ruined by him… Looking at it from another angle, perhaps this is a good thing. The doll units produced by the Alchemy Tower possess a degree of sentience and can replace Elven and Barbarian slaves, avoiding a war with the Elven Royal Court… Since he got the dolls, Barkley no longer tortures those poor Other-race slave girls… Once I achieve success and pioneer a new form of Alchemy, no one will question the reputation of Isocrates, Highest Councilor.”

“Today, I’ve hit a wall… My Alchemy is flawless—even Tutor Douglas is convinced of it—but I need the legacy blood of an Ancient Behemoth. Any kind of Ancient Behemoth will do, but I just don’t have it! Damn it, Barkley can’t deliver on his promise. Should I just crush this disgusting slave trader?”

“A message came from Barkley’s uncle. The blood of an Ancient Behemoth is extremely rare. The Highest Council’s collection could not possibly be entrusted to an unknown Alchemist… That’s right, he was referring to me, the great Isocrates. No matter what extraordinary achievements I might attain in the future, right now, I am just a little-known Alchemist. This is truly frustrating…”

“Archmage Pegaro Rowen also told me that the Elven Royal Court has the legacy blood of an Ancient Behemoth. He told me to find a way to contact the Elves myself… But I am a member of the Secret Order. The Elven Royal Court hates the Secret Order even more than they hate slave traders. Why else would I be working with Barkley? We are both assassination targets for the Silvermoon Walkers. This is even more depressing…”

“I quietly used the Secret Order’s network to anonymously post a request for the blood of an Ancient Behemoth. An anonymous fellow member responded to my request. He wants to exchange a piece of information for my help… on how to make an alchemical unit explode to kill enemies, including the template for said alchemical unit… By the Elements, what am I seeing? A Grox Swarm template? This species built a vast subterranean civilization at the end of the Twilight Era, fought against the demons of the Abyss for over four thousand years before being driven to the surface, where they nearly destroyed the Elven Empire. It is said that the Moon Goddess Freya split off her avatar of Death to defeat the sovereign of the Grox Swarm—Halgrim, King of the Spirit Realm. The Elves finally managed to completely exterminate the swarm. But this also caused the Elven race to split into two groups, one on the surface and one underground. One worships the Silvermoon Goddess, the other serves the Spider Lady. The Subterranean Elves now have to fight off the invasion of the Abyss’s demons, which is the key reason for the alliance between the Elven Empire and the Alchemical Empire. The Surface Elves support their subterranean kin and are not very friendly toward us. If they knew an Alchemist was preparing to replicate the Grox Swarm, both branches of Elves would turn against the Empire! This guy is an absolute madman! The problem is, the Grox Swarm’s psionic network cannot be replicated. Neither the Soul Fires of demon lords nor the Gods of the Sanctuary can control the Grox Swarm’s psionic network. Not unless that madman has the Soul Fire of Halgrim, King of the Spirit Realm… Assuming Halgrim’s will has already been ground away by the Elemental Sea, his Soul Fire would be no different from that of a god or a demon, and equally incapable of controlling the Grox Swarm’s psionic network… This means Halgrim has not completely perished!”

“That madman will destroy the Secret Order, and he’ll destroy the Alchemical Empire, too. While I was considering how to expose him without implicating myself, he went ahead and revealed his identity to me… To be honest, I was stunned. He’s actually a student of Tutor Douglas, my classmate and dear friend, the noble-born Maximo… My tutor told me Maximo had been assimilated by the elements. I didn’t see it with my own eyes, but I always believed he had long since perished. Since Maximo isn’t dead, why did Tutor Douglas lie to me, and to everyone else?”

“As for the answer to that question, Maximo didn’t keep me waiting long… Tutor Douglas is the leader of the Secret Order. The reason he revealed his identity to me is because we’ve run out of time.”

“…The Alchemical Empire has run out of time.”

Chapter 736: The Alchemist’s Diary (Part 2)

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“Maximo revealed a secret to me. Lord Kognoril of the Highest Council intends to initiate the God Creation Project, to create a ‘god’, and then gradually abolish the Alchemy Towers… I’ve heard a little about the God Creation Project. This idea of creating a ‘divine being’ originated in the Dark Era. In that age, with the silence of the Silvermoon Goddess and the Spider Lady, the Ancient Gods finally stopped manifesting, and the authority of the Elven Empire was challenged by its Gremlin vassals… It is said that those small, weak, yet intelligent little monsters were, like us, not favored by their ancestral god. They were not primordial beings created by Taelon Ruier. The Gremlins’ ancestral god was particularly weak. Before the outbreak of the Eternal War, it submitted to the will of the Creation Giant Ape and dissipated its own divine nature, unable even to coalesce a manifest consciousness through the collective worship of its blood-kin, and thus naturally could not protect the Gremlin race. Relying on their small, harmless, intelligent, and nimble nature, they attached themselves to the ancient Elves, helping them fight the blood-kin of the Earth Mother. The Gremlins were the first foreign race in elven history to voluntarily become vassals. They won the favor of the Moon Goddess, Freya, who granted them the authority to bathe in the light of the Moonlight Tree and gain long life. However, the Gremlins were also the first vassal race to betray the Elves. After the Silvermoon and the Spider fell silent, they stole the legacy blood of the Ancient Behemoths from the Elven Royal Court, including the legacy blood of the Earth Mother’s eldest daughter—the Titans. The Titans are the source of the Ogres and Barbarians. Some of the lower-class Gremlins thereby transformed into Ogres. They also secretly captured primordial beings of the Dark Era to create the Barbarians for them to enslave and command. A war broke out between the Elves and the Gremlins. By this time, the Gremlins had lost their authority to bathe in the Moonlight Tree and had devolved into the Goblin race… This war lasted for over one hundred thousand years and affected nearly every intelligent species on the continent, with the involvement of demons from the Abyss and the Gods of the Sanctuary. For a time, the Goblins became the hegemons of the world, establishing twenty-three powerful empires that spanned both banks of the Goldwater River. During the war of the Dark Era, the demons of the Abyss and the Gods of the Sanctuary set foot on the material plane of Taelon Ruier for the first time; the Elves lost their hegemony; the ancestors of humanity rose; the Dragons awakened from the Abyss, their wings obscuring the sky; and the demon prince Donar betrayed the Abyss, pledged his allegiance to the Gods of the Sanctuary, and, in his capacity as a Sky Spirit, liberated the Barbarians who had been enslaved by the Goblins. The Elves had the help of the Dragons and the ancestors of humanity, and the Goblin empires were already in dire straits. Sky Spirit Donar’s liberation of the Barbarians was the final straw that crushed Goblin civilization… The demons retreated to their lairs in the Abyss, no longer answering the blood sacrifice summons of the Goblin Warlocks. The cornered Goblin Warlocks began their insane God Creation Project. But before they could succeed, the combined armies of the human ancestors, the Barbarians, and the Elves breached the capital of the Goblin empire. The human ancestors seized the divine artifact created by the Goblin Warlocks, ‘The Cage of Rhegzothli’… It is now known by Alchemists as the ‘Ring of Taelon Ruier’.”

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“In the Dark Era, the Elves taught the ancestors of humanity the mysteries of spell models. The ancestors, in turn, obtained knowledge of ancient bloodlines from the Goblin Warlocks, as well as the God Creation technology that the high Goblins had failed to realize… To this day, I still believe that the Goblins’ God Creation is just a myth. Although Maximo is an Alchemist from a top noble family, and his network of contacts is beyond my current reach, I do not believe what he says… Lord Kognoril is the son of the Creator, an incarnation of the elements. Even the Elven Emperor, with ancient divine blood flowing in his veins, must take the initiative to greet him respectfully. The Archmages and great Alchemists of the Highest Council hold Lord Kognoril in the highest esteem. No High Councilor can oppose his will. If he decided to initiate the God Creation Project, my feeble self would certainly support it, but why would he want to abolish the Alchemy Towers? Without Alchemy Towers, there are no Alchemists, no Alchemical Empire… Lord Kognoril is the King of Alchemists, he wouldn’t do this!”

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“Today, I contacted my Tutor, Douglas, through the Secret Order’s channels. I tried to reveal my knowledge of his identity. His reaction was very strange. He was silent for a long time before admitting he was the leader of the Secret Order. I think he must have spoken to Maximo first before continuing to communicate with me. This means that, on this matter at least, Maximo did not lie to me… I directly asked my tutor about the God Creation Project. Tutor Douglas said yes… Of course, I didn’t believe it. How could the King of Alchemists betray the Alchemists? My tutor asked me in return, how many resources does it take to build an Alchemy Tower? Who provides these resources? To be honest, I had never considered these questions, but I knew that the construction and operation of an Alchemy Tower were supported by resources from the nearby city-states… My tutor told me that the major city-states all oppose continuing to supply the Alchemy Towers. They would rather capture Elves and Barbarians as slaves, or even raise Goblins, than use alchemical units. The Elven Royal Court and the Barbarians’ Ancestral Pillars are putting immense pressure on the Highest Council, demanding that the Alchemical Empire forbid the slave trade. The slave trade has always been forbidden, yet it can never be truly prohibited. Isn’t the Tower Master under my command a notorious slave trader? The next step is that the Elves and Barbarians will unite to make land demands on the Alchemical Empire. The alliance of the three races against the demons of the Abyss may be declared broken. To avoid a war between the three races, can the Alchemical Empire only move south of the Goldwater River and cede the lands of the northern continent to the Barbarians and Elves? Of course, we could move and settle in the Southern Continent, but no matter where we move, the demons of the Abyss will follow. What they covet are the primordial beings. The Barbarians and Elves of the Southern Continent don’t have much power, and we need the support of the Elven Royal Court and the Ancestral Pillars, so we cannot move… So what should we do? Tutor Douglas told me to think it over carefully and talk to him again when I’ve figured it out… What in the world is all this?”

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“I must admit, politics is not my area of expertise, but a High Councilor must understand political strategy. Raven told me that if all this is true, the city-states of the Empire are bound to go their own way, because the demons have been driven back to the Abyss, making the Alchemy Towers useless, and the Alchemists useless as well. The Highest Council must take action, or the Alchemical Empire will fall apart… Actually, I shouldn’t have revealed the Secret Order to her, but she can truly help me, so I decided to propose to Miss Raven… She’ll agree, right?”

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“Mist Mountain is exceptionally beautiful today. Raven is very willing to be my wife. I want to tell Tutor Douglas this good news. Before that, I must first discuss our last conversation with him.”

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“My tutor was very surprised by my answer. He didn’t expect me to see the Highest Council’s predicament so quickly. I won’t tell him that these were all Raven’s ideas… Tutor Douglas now sees me as someone he can talk to. He revealed to me a deeper conflict within the three-race alliance: humans can intermarry with Elves and Barbarians, but the children born are always human. Neither the Elven Royal Court nor the Ancestral Pillars can tolerate a situation where the three races intermingle. The City-state Mage Towers and the prominent Elementalist families are all secretly supporting the slave trade precisely to absorb Barbarians and Elves and expand their own spheres of influence. And since the Highest Council lacks effective control over the city-states, the High Councilors are all discussing countermeasures. Some believe the Alchemy Towers are a huge burden on the city-states and that they should redevelop the art of rune puppets. They proposed restarting the Divine Colossi construction project… By the elements, that’s an antique from over seven thousand years ago, and those High Councilors actually still remember it! Other Councilors proposed establishing academies for Mages and Elementalists, recruiting apprentices from the various city-states, and emulating the ancestors of old to cultivate mythical heroes. They are even researching Elemental Rune Weapons to enhance the individual capabilities of Elementalists and Mages… I stated that these Councilors are all fools. Don’t they know that an Elementalist who advances naturally must endure the scouring of the Elemental Sea? Out of one hundred Elementalists, maybe not even fifty would survive, especially non-noble Elementalists like Raven and me. Without magical potions, I couldn’t even resonate with my thirteenth Elemental Node. Every Elementalist wants to become an Alchemist. How could those High Councilors want Elementalists to go out and fight?”

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“Tutor Douglas completely agreed with my view. The glory of an Elementalist lies in void creation, not in replacing alchemical combat units. He believes the correct way to ensure the continuation of the Alchemical Empire is to advance Alchemy and produce alchemical creatures that are welcomed by the city-states, thereby strengthening control over them. My tutor appreciates my talent and supports my research, offering every convenience within his power, hoping I can create alchemical units that shine with the light of inspiration. Now, Lord Kognoril has clearly proposed the God Creation Project, which can accommodate the needs of all parties. Why can the God Creation Project accommodate the Divine Colossi, the Mage and Elementalist academies, and us in the Secret Order? I haven’t figured it out. I’ll ask Raven later… My tutor added that although Lord Kognoril is accommodating the needs of all parties, the resources the Highest Council can currently mobilize are limited. The Secret Order must fight for priority. The Alchemy Towers cannot be shut down, and research and development in Alchemy must continue. We need a war!”

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“One hundred and thirty years ago, the demons retreated to the Abyss, leaving behind two rifts. One is in the Endless Forest, the ancestral land of the Elves; the other is on the Arreat Plateau, a no-magic zone. My tutor’s meaning is to counterattack the Abyss. We can forget about the rift in the Endless Forest. The Secret Order once plundered the ruins of an Elven royal family’s temple and was hunted by the King of the Elves. The previous leader of the order was even killed by the Silvermoon Walkers. The rift on the Arreat Plateau is near a no-magic zone, so it’s impossible to build an Alchemy Tower there. The Gros Insectoid Alchemy Tower that Maximo is researching can be deployed directly inside the Abyssal rift. Tutor Douglas hopes I can help Maximo perfect the template design for the insectoid alchemical units.”

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“I agreed to my tutor’s request, but I also raised my own concerns. An Alchemy Tower must be built on a point where elements converge, its location fixed and unchangeable, which makes it difficult to assemble alchemical combat units. Maximo’s Alchemy Tower is modeled after a Gros Insectoid queen. It is both an Alchemy Tower and a living alchemical unit. Her power can match that of a mid-tier God of the Sanctuary, or a lesser demon lord. And that is merely the queen’s own power. The Gros Insectoids have always overwhelmed everything with numbers. They have two modes: development and war. The queen controls broodmothers to procreate various functional insectoids, devouring everything edible, absorbing the bloodline memories of creatures, and converting them into their own skills. In war mode, the queen births an Insectoid King more powerful than herself to lead the swarm in annihilating the enemy. Maximo’s designed Alchemy Tower also has the two modes of the Gros Insectoids. The development mode has a cycle of fifteen years, with the swarm size between three hundred thousand and four hundred thousand; the war mode has a cycle of twenty years, with the queen producing six hundred thousand insectoid units and birthing an Insectoid King… I admit his idea is astonishing. The Gros Insectoids are skilled at digging. The worker ants can secrete a special mucus to stabilize soil structure and excavate all sorts of tunnels, making them especially suited for underground warfare. They once invaded the Abyss from the underworld, devouring countless demons… The problem is, the soul fluctuations of the Gros queen and king have multiple frequencies, similar to the Inspectors trained by the Highest Council, who can break through the underlying framework of any Alchemy Tower by changing their soul fluctuations. A Tower Master with a singular soul fluctuation cannot deny an Inspector’s access. So how can Maximo’s Tower Master control a queen-tower that possesses biological characteristics?”

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As Victor deciphered this part of the information, his head was buzzing, and a single thought repeated over and over in his mind:

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The Ant-man army is good at digging, so what’s the point of my three fortresses?!

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Chapter 737: The Alchemist’s Diary (Part 2)

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Back then, the ant swarm had surged forward, leaving a barren wasteland in its wake, nothing but a scene of devastation. In just two short months, the entire Centaur Hills had fallen. The York family decisively abandoned their fiefs, which lacked defensive fortifications, and gathered their subjects inside Black Fortress Town, holding their ground and awaiting reinforcements from the Church and the kingdom.

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The spearhead of the Ant-man army once pushed into the western and southern reaches of the Gambis Kingdom. The kingdom’s lords and the Church’s high-ranking clergy were panic-stricken. They pleaded with Sylvia to take the initiative and launch an attack, to draw the main force of the Ant-man army to the outskirts of Black Fortress Town and buy the kingdom a buffer period to mobilize its forces.

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Everyone soon discovered that the Ant-man tide’s behavior was simplistic. They didn’t understand strategy or tactics, and as long as one employed the right methods, eliminating the Ant-man army wasn’t difficult. The fixed impression among the lords and clergy was that, with the exception of a few Ant-man chiefs, all Ant-men were mindless insects.

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Victor’s understanding of the Ant-men was much deeper. He guessed that they were a special type of alchemical unit, their behavior rigid, their wisdom and learning capacity far inferior to even newly created Alchemical-humans.

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Being fearless and absolutely obedient was an advantage for alchemical creatures, but also a major flaw. Those who did not fear death died with exceptional ease. Alchemical-humans possessed the ability to learn and could develop judgment after a period of training, but on the battlefield, they were always the first to fall. The Ant-men had neither the learning capacity of Alchemical-humans nor the wild intuition of Alchemical Warhounds. With its three massive fortresses and cliffs hundreds of meters high, the Centaur Hills should have been perfectly capable of keeping them contained within the Great Marsh.

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His own experience had led Victor to overlook a simple fact—the Ant-men had hands just like humans, capable of grasping tools and wielding weapons.

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From a monsterological perspective, any creature with dexterous hands was an intelligent species capable of production, and this production capability included engineering.

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The Ant-men’s physical structure was clearly suited for large-scale construction. They had six limbs and could stand upright, freeing both their upper and forelimbs to act as two pairs of hands. But not a single scholar had considered that the Ant-men might dig tunnels from underground to breach humanity’s massive fortifications.

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Fictional war stories contained examples of tunneling through city wall defenses. But anyone who actually believed such a thing was a fool.

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In fact, it was more difficult for humans to build a subterranean palace than a fortress. If one were to attack a city by digging tunnels, one would have to contend with soil collapse, water seepage, air circulation, and problems with direction and structure, among others.

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In the face of a rapidly changing battle, mobilizing a large army to dig a long tunnel—the commander must have lost his mind. How many years did they plan to spend digging that tunnel? Dig too shallow, and you’d run into the city wall. Dig too deep, and the soldiers would suffocate… Besides, the defenders weren’t blind. How could they just watch as the enemy slowly dug a tunnel?

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In truth, there was no harm in watching the enemy make a fool of themselves. An army laying siege always had to consume provisions, to say nothing of engaging in heavy physical labor like digging tunnels.

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The human kingdoms had fought beastmen and monsters for over nine thousand years. Kobolds were considered monsters adept at digging, yet not a single human castle had ever been breached from underground.

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Unless, of course, the invading enemy was a natural subterranean race.

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Isocrates’s diary clearly described that the Ant-men’s biological template came from the Gros Insectoids of the subterranean world. They could secrete a special mucus to stabilize soil structures, and their need for air was likely very low. If what the ancient alchemist said was true, the Ant-man army was fully capable of bypassing the three great fortresses, choosing a cliff face, and digging a path to break through the natural defensive line of the Larkspur Mountains.

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The Larkspur Mountains stretched for over a thousand kilometers. Even if the Gambis Kingdom summoned an army of several hundred thousand, it would be impossible to defend.

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What was most fatal was that the behavioral characteristics displayed by the previous Ant-man tide were a special match for two of the Gros Insectoids’ behavioral patterns. Victor summarized the subterranean insectoids’ development model as the swarm’s expansion, Gathering, exploration, destruction, and the generational replacement of the colony. Simply put, when one generation of insectoids grew old and weak, on the verge of death, the Broodmother would send them out to die, with little control needed, treating it as recycling waste. If these aged insectoids encountered an enemy that could threaten the colony’s survival or a valuable target, the Ant-man queen would switch to the second mode, prompting the Broodmother to breed more combat units for the swarm, while she herself gestated an Insectoid King to lead the swarm into war.

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The preparation period for this war mode was at most twenty years, during which the swarm’s power would build to its absolute peak.

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Some time ago, Victor had dispatched two teams of alchemical-creature scouts to the Endless Forest, trying to locate the Ant-man lair. If calculated based on the previous fifteen-year war cycle, the scout teams should have encountered the Ant-man army on the Great Plains west of the marsh, yet they hadn’t seen a single Ant-man.

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The Ant-man queen was gestating an Insectoid King, pushing the war’s start time to twenty years—that would explain it!

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No matter how powerful the Insectoid King was as an individual, the Ant-man army he led would be nothing like the pushovers from last time. It would certainly be able to fully exploit the Ant-men’s wartime advantages, such as… digging tunnels.

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Victor felt a headache coming on at the thought. He rubbed his furrowed brow, suppressed his rising anxiety, and once again picked up his quill. As he extracted the information recorded in X-3, he wrote on the hide paper, trying to find a way to counter the ant swarm in the ancient alchemist’s diary.

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“Maximo was dismissive of my doubts, claiming that the Broodmother Alchemy Tower was deployed inside the Great Chasm and didn’t need a Tower Master to control each race of alchemical units in the traditional way. His words seemed to make sense, but he couldn’t fool me… Maximo was hiding what I was truly interested in. The more autonomous an alchemical unit is, the harder it is to control. Fortunately, their souls are dispersed and weak compared to the total Soul Fire of an Alchemy Tower, and they lack the power to resist the will of their soul’s origin. It is just as life within the material world cannot resist the will of Taelon Ruier, always obeying the world’s Laws in the form of instinct. This is because souls of the same origin are one. The material world created by the Creator repels all non-native wills, even including Taelon Ruier’s Mother—the Serpent of Chaos, and his Father—the Bird of Light.”

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“The reason demons from the Abyss and the Gods of the Sanctuary can still manifest on the material plane is because they bear Taelon Ruier’s imprint. The longer they stay on the material plane, the stronger their connection to the world’s Law becomes, and the Elemental Sea will slowly dissolve the will imprints of the Serpent of Chaos and the Bird of Light. At that point, the demons and gods will never be able to return to the Great Serpent Abyss and the Bird of Light Sanctuary, being completely transformed into the life forms of the material world and losing their great, eternal, and undying will.”

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“Under normal circumstances, high-ranking demons and high-ranking gods are fundamentally unkillable. But the Gods of the Sanctuary trapped parts of the souls of three Primordial Demon Lords, preventing their return to the Blood Pool of the Abyss. They then handed these soul fragments to high-ranking Elementalists, who used the power of the Elemental Sea to grind away the chaotic imprints within the demon lords’ souls. These undying Soul Fires, stripped of their demonic will, are the source of the Soul Fire for Alchemy Towers. The demon lords were heavily wounded as a result, and we, in turn, developed the Art of Void Creation.”

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“Each Alchemy Tower requires an Alchemist to weave a Will Side. Then, an Archmage must split off a small part of the Tower Master’s soul to ignite the tower’s Soul Fire. Through the tower’s Soul Fire, the alchemical creatures recognize the Tower Master’s will as their origin and thus obey the Tower Master’s commands. Separated from the Alchemy Tower’s Soul Fire, the Tower Master cannot command the alchemical creatures. The Gros Insectoids are different from ordinary creatures; their minds are linked into a single entity. No human can simultaneously control hundreds of thousands of alchemical units. The information transmitted by the swarm leaders alone would be enough to make his soul collapse.”

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“Therefore, the Broodmother Alchemy Tower cannot have a human Tower Master. And without the will brought by a human Tower Master splitting their soul, Maximo could not possibly have activated the Broodmother Alchemy Tower’s Soul Fire. The origin of the Gros Insectoids is the King of the Spirit Realm. His will imprint leans towards the demonic, but he belongs to Taelon Ruier’s line of Ancient Gods. His mission was to open up the subterranean world. In the middle and late Twilight Era, the King of the Spirit Realm’s subterranean race could not defeat the demons of the Abyss and turned to covet the surface world, for which he was hunted down by the Moon Goddess. Freya seized the King of the Spirit Realm’s authority, and only then did the Subterranean Elves come to be.”

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“Due to the special nature of the Gros Insectoids’ psychic link, the Broodmother is equivalent to an avatar of the King of the Spirit Realm. As long as even a single egg of the swarm remains, the King of the Spirit Realm will not truly perish. Therefore, I believe Maximo and his group found a surviving avatar of the King of the Spirit Realm, captured His soul, and used it to invent the Broodmother Alchemy Tower. However, they did not notify the Highest Council, nor did they use the power of the Elemental Sea to wear down the King of the Spirit Realm’s will. Otherwise, they would have only obtained pure Soul Fire, and not undying Soul Fire at that, which would be insufficient to build even an ordinary Alchemy Tower.”

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“I must say, Maximo and the others are far too audacious, daring to privately intercept the faint will of the King of the Spirit Realm and use It to create the Broodmother Alchemy Tower… No, that cannot be called an Alchemy Tower at all. The will of the King of the Spirit Realm will awaken and grow within the Broodmother. If they cannot produce a convincing method of control, I would rather risk being killed than not report this to the Highest Council… Only practical control is the Path of an Alchemist. They have strayed from the glory of alchemists, and I cannot tolerate it…”

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“Tutor Douglas truly understands me. He approved of my resolve and asked me to believe that he, too, is a follower of the elements. The Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower that Maximo and his group have created is merely a stopgap measure. The Secret Order’s ultimate goal remains to persevere in the research of the Art of Void Creation, so that the legacy of alchemists shall never end.”

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“Tutor Douglas guaranteed that there were no major problems with the Broodmother Alchemy Tower, and I officially joined Maximo’s research. But I never expected that Maximo would have a beautiful young mage follower answer my questions. Her name is Angelina, an intermediate Mage. She is both Maximo’s follower and his lover. There are many instances of Mages and Alchemists from the Empire pairing up, but noble alchemists only join with noble Elementalists. Maximo faked his death to leave his own noble house and joined with an insignificant intermediate mage follower. This shows how important Angelina is, a key figure in this research project. Angelina meeting with me personally demonstrated their sincerity. Heh, without the great Alchemist Isocrates’s participation, they would be lost…”

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“Angelina’s talent in Wizardry overlaps with the Law of the King of the Spirit Realm. She heard his whisper and found the small swarm he left behind in the depths of the Endless Forest. The King of the Spirit Realm was gravely wounded, his own will almost completely worn away. He no longer had the strength to expand the number of his insectoid kin and was on the verge of perishing completely.”

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“This is what makes the King of the Spirit Realm special. The other Ancient Gods fell silent one after another at the end of the Twilight Era—otherwise the demons of the Abyss and the Gods of the Sanctuary would never have set foot in the material world—but the King of the Spirit Realm, relying on the psychic link of his insectoid kin, managed to hang on until the Age of Moonlight… However, the disadvantage of this psychic link is that the maximum number of the Gros Insectoids is determined by the strength of the King of the Spirit Realm’s Soul Fire, whereas the blood-kin descendants created by other Ancient Gods have no such numerical bottleneck. Ancient elven texts record that even at the height of his power, the number of Gros Insectoids was only around thirty million, while the number of ancient elves was three times that. The Gros swarm that Angelina discovered numbered less than two thousand. The Ant-man queen’s power was so weak it had been reduced to insectoid instinct; it could no longer be considered a sapient species. Ancient Gods like the Moon Goddess, Mother Earth, and the King of Gluttony are currently only in a state of diffused will, not perish. The King of the Spirit Realm, however, was truly about to face Annihilation. Thankfully, Angelina found the descendants of the Gros Insectoids. She nearly became a god-slayer.”

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“Angelina killed the entire remnant Gros swarm, leaving behind a single Broodmother egg. Maximo attempted to use this egg to create a special Alchemy Tower. The method they employed was to have an Archmage split the egg’s soul, then seal the separated Ancient God’s Soul Fire into an Elemental Rune Crystal made by Maximo… They themselves never imagined they would actually succeed. Maximo and his group were ecstatic and wove a Will Side to load onto that Rune Crystal. This task had to be completed by Angelina. The Law she was attuned to overlapped with the King of the Spirit Realm’s authority, allowing her to control the Gros Broodmother through the Elemental Rune Crystal in place of the King… Considering that an Archmage’s lifespan does not exceed two hundred years, once Angelina perishes, the Gros swarm might re-coalesce the main consciousness of the King of the Spirit Realm. To prevent the alchemical swarm from breaking free of control, Maximo and the Archmage decided to follow the regulations of the Highest Council and designed the foundational architecture of the Elemental Rune Crystal. The Inspectors trained by the Highest Council would be able to unlock the Elemental Rune Crystal and forcibly extinguish the alchemical swarm’s Soul Fire.”

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“The study of souls is a branch of the domain of Law. The work of loading a Will Side must be personally directed by an Archmage. Although I know a little about weaving Will Sides, my expertise lies in the fields of elemental and Bloodline evolution… I don’t know which lord Archmage is collaborating with Maximo, but Tutor Douglas must know him. My tutor has secretly dispatched an Inspector to the test site in the Endless Forest to examine the swarm’s Rune Crystal. He can indeed unlock the foundational architecture of that Rune Crystal… I am certain that my tutor and Maximo would not make a fatal error on such a momentous issue. But I must send my own mage follower and Elementalist to see that Elemental Rune Crystal for myself… My wife can handle this task.”

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“Raven has set out. Riding Dracovultures, it will take them at least two months to fly there and back. I don’t intend to waste this time. The number of alchemical insectoids is limited, with fewer than six hundred thousand units even in war mode. Their individual strength is already weaker than that of an Abyssal demon, so Maximo hopes the alchemical insectoids can self-destruct to increase their lethality. This is a problem I can solve. The body fluids of the Aged Pyro-Resin Beetle gradually transform into flammable oil. As long as I can analyze this special Bloodline Law into an elemental Law, when the alchemical insectoids’ lifespan nears its end, their body fluids will turn into pyro-resin oil, which can burn ferociously… Hmm, insectoids over thirteen years old will be able to burn and self-destruct, while those under ten years old will be immune to their own kind’s fire, preventing the entire swarm from being ignited by a great fire… This design will prove my ability and value to Maximo and his group, and will help increase Raven’s say in matters. But I must still keep an ace up my sleeve; I will not provide the design for the insectoid alchemical units to self-destruct… unless they agree to Raven’s conditions.”

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Victor stopped writing, a bitter look in his eyes. The fact that the Ant-men could dig was already a huge headache, and now it turned out they weren’t all afraid of fire. Incomplete information had led to a massive loophole in the Centaur Hills’ defense system. But at this point, worrying was useless. He hoped the rest of the ancient alchemist’s diary would reveal more of the Ant-men’s weaknesses.

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He dipped his quill in ink and continued writing:

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“Raven and my mage follower have returned. What Maximo and Angelina said is true. The Rune Crystal that can dismantle the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower is sealed in a place of elemental convergence in the Endless Forest to ensure its long-term effectiveness… Maximo is very satisfied with the pyro-fluid insectoid design I provided, but he cannot provide me with the legacy blood of an Ancient Behemoth. He only brought back a piece of information for Raven. An alchemist named Biddlerick has a drop of the King of Nightmares’ legacy blood. His Alchemy Tower is built on a point of elemental convergence in the Nidam Great Marsh… I have heard of that alchemist’s reputation. He never attends to his proper duties, spending all his time developing rune armor and rune weapons, and is always touting the power of an Elementalist’s natural advancement… Hmph, the man is a disgrace to alchemists. I have no dealings with him, nor do I wish to associate with such a person. Maximo thinks he can get the self-destruct design for his insectoid units from me with just a piece of information? Absolutely not. Unless he brings me the King of Nightmares’ legacy blood, his insectoid units will only burn, they will not self-destruct!”

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“The small disagreement between Maximo and me does not affect our cooperation in other areas. The design philosophy of the Broodmother Alchemy Tower is new and unique, and it has given me a great deal of inspiration. But an alchemist must abide by the basic principles of void creation, doing their utmost to ensure their alchemical units are harmless to the Empire. Maximo and I have decided to reduce the number of Gros Insectoid template types, choosing only the most basic and primitive insectoid form as the Broodmother Alchemy Tower’s sole biological template… that six-limbed Gros Insectoid unit that can walk upright.”

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There was no mistake. The Broodmother Alchemy Tower was the present-day Ant-man queen.

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The following information was all about how Isocrates deduced the primitive form of the Gros Insectoids, interspersed with some trivial daily matters. About three years later, he and Maximo completed the design for the Gros Insectoid alchemical unit. The information came to an abrupt end there. It was unknown what happened to him afterward that caused him to leave the memory-storage crystal in the Mist Mountain Alchemy Tower, where it remained until Victor unearthed it.

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The alchemist’s diary never mentioned the Ant-men self-destructing. It seemed Isocrates and Maximo had failed to reach an agreement, and he had not provided the design for the Ant-man units to self-destruct.

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This was hardly cause for celebration. Hundreds of thousands of fire-resistant Ant-men that could tunnel were already more than the lord Gold-Eyed Earl could handle.

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Victor put away his notes and sat alone at his desk, lost in thought for a long time. It was not until the sky began to whiten that he finally rose and left his study. He mounted his Swiftbird and, with an entourage of two Alchemical militia, rode off in the direction of the Church in Laketon.

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Chapter 738: An Invitation

Knock, knock, knock. The incessant knocking outside the door finally roused Father Miller from his deep slumber. He wrapped himself in a thick woolen blanket and sat on the edge of his bed for a moment, his eyes half-closed. His simmering resentment had not yet subsided when the persistent knocking sounded again.

The old priest flew into a rage. He snatched a warm cloak from its hanger, slipped on his shoes, and stormed to the front hall to throw open the wooden door. Cold air flooded the room, making him shiver and dampening much of his irritation. His face was grim as he spoke to the Gold-Eyed Earl standing outside. “Come in.”

Miller turned sideways to let Victor enter, then peered into the dim corridor to ensure no one was spying on them. Only then did he shut the door, muttering resentfully, “Disturbing someone’s sleep is an act of moral depravity!”

“…The sun is already up,” Victor said, finding a wooden round stool and sitting down. “I didn’t sleep a wink last night, and you have the nerve to sleep in.”

The information recorded in the Marvelous Crystal had filled Victor with anxiety. While it wasn’t enough to shake his willpower, it was certainly troubling.

Miller had probably foreseen these events, yet he was able to snore away with a clear conscience. Shouldn’t he have been sitting here waiting for Victor to come seeking guidance, as befitting the image of a top-tier God-favored?

“The sun is not up, and it’s still cold. It’s only you who sees the dawn, and you don’t even feel the cold… I’m an old man. It’s a rare day off for me, and I don’t have to lead morning prayer at the Church. Can’t I sleep in a little?” Father Miller grumbled as he scooped water from a jug in the living quarters to wash up.

Watching the old priest shiver as he washed his face with cold water, Victor’s mind gradually calmed. The divine light in his dark gold eyes faded, and they returned to their original black. Miller was right. Even in darkness, his dim vision allowed him to see his surroundings clearly. Even with his eyes closed, he could sense everything around him, even scenes more than ten kilometers away. This extraordinary Perception gave him an extraordinary perspective and influenced his way of thinking. Victor had almost forgotten the sensations of being a mortal and hadn’t looked at problems from an ordinary person’s point of view in a very long time.

Looking down from the height of the world’s pan-consciousness, there was no hierarchy between long-lived and short-lived species, no distinction between intelligent races and beasts, insects, or plants. They were not labeled strong or weak. Every life form had its reason for existence, and the diverse perspectives of different lives represented the Creator’s various interpretations of the Laws. This was true omniscience.

Victor couldn’t perceive matter, energy, space, and time as an insect did. In fact, the world appeared different to every person, and their ways of thinking were just as varied.

What each person saw was both truth and prejudice. This was the difference between man and god. Beneath the Creator, all were mortal, and the Lord of Radiance was no exception.

Victor could not reverse his life form to once again see things and think from the perspective of an ordinary person. By the same token, Father Miller was not the Lord of Radiance. The future he “saw” was simply the truth he was able to see, along with his own biases.

The information left by the ancient Alchemist wasn’t necessarily accurate. Victor had originally intended to ask Father Miller to verify a few things: Was the Elemental Rune Crystal that controlled the Alchemist Ant-man queen real? Where was it now? Could Beldina decipher the crystal’s underlying structure?

If Father Miller could foresee such details, wouldn’t that make him omniscient and omnipotent?

Now, it seemed pointless to even ask. Victor pondered for a moment, then asked tentatively, “Do you know about Abyss demons?”

“Abyss demons? Hmph, even children know about them,” Miller said, flicking water droplets from his hands. He turned around, his expression scornful.

“Uh, I don’t mean the demons from legends…” Victor thought for a moment, then said, “I’m asking about real Abyss demons… Have you ever heard of the Chaos Giant Serpent?”

“If you mean real Abyss demons… then definitely not. This world can only contain monsters, not demons or anything else.” Miller dried his hands on a towel and sat down on his bed, a cryptic smile spreading across his old face. He then asked, “Why don’t you tell me? What do you know about the Chaos Giant Serpent?”

Victor’s knowledge of the Chaos Giant Serpent was limited to Isocrates’s one-sided description. The Creation Giant Ape was suspected to be the offspring of it and the Bird of Light. Chaos and Light were Creators at least on par with Taelon Ruier. This would explain why some Ancient Behemoths could resist Taelon Ruier’s will and become gods or demon lords. They carried the will imprints of the Chaos Giant Serpent and the Bird of Light, allowing them to enter the worlds these two great beings had created.

Uncorroborated memories and speculations couldn’t be trusted. Victor had sought out Father Miller to supplement his information, but from the looks of it, the old priest was trying to get information out of him.

The jigsaw puzzle of the world that Victor had deduced had a tight logical structure. Even if he were willing to tell Miller, it would likely take days and nights to explain it all clearly.

“I only know the name Chaos Giant Serpent… What about you? How much do you know about it?” Victor gave a dry cough and pressed on.

Miller shook his head and said frankly, “Believe it or not, today is the first time I’ve ever heard the name ‘Chaos Giant Serpent.’ As for Abyss demons…” He paused, then asked, “Can you tell me where the Abyss is?”

Victor was speechless. He didn’t even understand what the Abyss was, so how could he possibly know its location?

“…If the Abyss is not in this world, then it is not in the past, not in the present, and not in the future. It has no effect on us… If there are Abyss demons, and you can see them, then you can understand that they are just a type of monster in this world, right?” Father Miller said meaningfully.

Demons entering the Taelon World would inevitably have to obey the world’s Laws, their souls and bodies formed from the four elements, making them fundamentally no different from the world’s other life forms. In the eyes of humans, they could be classified as monsters.

And were the human kingdoms facing any shortage of monsters?

Victor understood this. He nodded slightly but asked, not quite ready to give up, “Aren’t you at all curious about demons and evil gods?”

“Of course I’m curious… but those are just myths. It’s fine to listen to them, and it’s fine if I don’t. To be honest, I know nothing about the demons and evil gods you speak of. I see what I can see, and you know what you can understand,” the God-favored replied.

He then added, “Child, it’s not that I’m unwilling, but that I’m unable to make you understand the visions of the Great Divination… There’s no need for us to discuss demons and evil gods.”

Victor inwardly agreed with Miller’s point. He stopped pestering him for information and nodded, changing the subject. “Alright… let’s not talk about myths. But I’ve run into big trouble. I’ve received word that the number of those Ant-men far exceeds our estimates, and they’re skilled at digging.”

“They can dig? By the Radiance, that’s terrible news.” Miller was clearly taken aback. He asked with a troubled expression, “Do you have a plan?”

The old priest’s expression of surprise and anxiety did not seem feigned. The subtle physiological changes—his heartbeat, blood flow, and breathing rhythm—could not escape Victor’s Perception.

He’s surprised, but not panicked. Instead, he’s curious about my plan… He didn’t know the Ant-men could dig, which means they never managed to invade the Centaur Hills. Therefore, he didn’t need to foresee what skills the Ant-men had or what their numbers were. This indicates that my decision aligns with his prophecy… Victor quickly made his judgment, growing more confident in his upcoming long-range raid.

However, Victor wasn’t about to let Father Miller off the hook so easily. The old man was a Spirit Priest. How could a plan to raid the Ant-man lair thousands of kilometers away not include him?

“I have the notes left by an ancestor of the Trigoval family. That Paladin not only marked the approximate location of the Assyrian Empire but also claimed that the Assyrians’ evil god altar possesses the power to fight the Ant-men. I plan to select a team and personally lead them to the Assyrian ruins in the Endless Forest to scout the Ant-men. If the opportunity arises, I will eliminate the Ant-man threat in the Endless Forest once and for all.” After speaking, Victor stared intently at Father Miller’s deeply wrinkled face.

“The first person I am inviting is you, Your Excellency!”

“Hmm… What? You’re inviting me?!” Miller could no longer remain seated. He sprang up from the bed, pointing at his own nose and stammering, “I-I’m an old man…”

“You are also a priest, and what’s more, the resident priest of the Randell Earldom,” Victor said calmly. “I don’t need to remind you of a resident priest’s duties, do I? I am the lord of this earldom, and it’s only proper that I discuss matters with the resident priest. We share equal responsibility for this fief and its populace.”

“Well… I’m just a second-rank priest,” Miller said meekly, his face a picture of misery. “With Your Highness’s esteemed status, requesting a team of high-ranking clergy from the Church for assistance should be an easy matter.”

“Yes.” Victor nodded. “Forget a team of high-ranking clergy; even if I asked the Church to light the red smoke beacon and summon the Radiant Knights and the armies of the various kingdoms to help the Centaur Hills fend off the Ant-man plague, it would be no problem. If necessary, I will absolutely do so. So I’m not worried about the Ant-man army at all. I’m worried about my Randell Fief, my Centaur Hills, the home I have painstakingly built being destroyed in this war.”

“I can first try to use my own power to avert this disaster. I am willing to risk venturing into the Endless Forest to find the Ant-men’s weakness, and I am confident I can return safely… But what about the others? Beldina and Imosen, and my attendant knights, will they make it back alive?”

“My team needs an accompanying priest, and he must also keep my secrets… No one is more suitable than you.”

Miller’s mouth twitched. He sat back down and shook his head with a bitter smile. “I’m not just the resident priest of the Randell Fief… You have your business, and I have mine. In fact, I’ve already done everything I can.”

“Are you talking about Caligula? I’ll take him with me.” Victor raised his chin slightly, insisting, “But if you won’t go, then I won’t either. You can report to the Church right now and ask them to light the red smoke beacon.”

“…You rascal, you’ve got me completely figured out, haven’t you?” Miller tugged at his beard, feeling exceptionally troubled.

A shift in fate could send the future down an unpredictable path. The Gold-Eyed Earl had calculated this and was not afraid that he wouldn’t yield. But if he agreed to the other party’s request, the Force of Destiny would change as well. Miller thought it over and over, glared at Victor, and finally made his decision, saying gravely:

“Power can be quite useful sometimes… I happen to have a High-ranked Priest under my command. I’ll order him to accompany you.”

“You mean Dayn?” Victor hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. “He currently has Pope Clement’s favor…”

“I know. You need him to keep your secrets,” Father Miller interrupted with a chuckle. “Is it difficult for His Highness Randell to make Father Dayn keep a secret?”

Victor was silent for a moment, then slowly nodded. “It is very difficult.”

Pope Clement could place Dayn by Father Miller’s side with confidence; he was a core member of the Pope’s faction. What Dayn wanted was easier to obtain by relying on Clement than by siding with His Highness Randell. And Victor couldn’t bring himself to do something like kicking away the ladder after he had climbed it, or silencing someone by killing them.

In this world, it was of practical importance for top-tier Extraordinary powerhouses to adhere to their principles. Victor had a special connection with the origin of the world. If he were to abuse his power and position, indulge himself, and do whatever he pleased, his soul could easily be corrupted by the world’s origin, causing him to fully transform into a Sun Elf. This would awaken the ancient memories in his Bloodline, and he would no longer be himself. The Path of the Mind’s Dominator would come to a complete end.

A look of admiration appeared in Father Miller’s eyes. He nodded. “Only a will that holds true to itself will not get lost. This is very important for you.”

“Yes. You taught me that before, and I have always kept it in my heart,” Victor said, nodding to Father Miller with a smile. “Dayn is my friend. Though I often make use of him, on a matter this big, he will surely report to Bishop Pello.”

Miller was startled, then shook his head. “Using a friend… and you can say it so righteously?”

“For Dayn to be used by His Highness Randell is not only an honor but also beneficial. More importantly, it proves his status is worthy of being my friend. Otherwise, how could I possibly have friends?” Victor said with a faint smile. “You see, Sylvia has no friends… and besides me, you don’t seem to have many friends either.”

Miller nodded resentfully. “That fellow Dayn, I don’t particularly like him. But for you, my young friend, I can help him this one time.”

Victor’s heart skipped a beat. He had long wanted to cultivate an agent among the Church’s high-ranking clergy, but how could such a thing be easy?

The Church was a colossal entity, a system unto itself with a tangled web of internal factions. Even with the power of the Raging Wind Sword Saint, trying to meddle in the Church’s internal power struggles would result in a bloody nose. Although it wouldn’t harm Victor himself, any agent he put forward would surely die, so it was no wonder Dayn relied more on His Holiness the Pope.

For Dayn to keep Victor’s secrets, they needed to have a common interest. Right now, he was only borrowing power from His Highness Randell, so Clement or other Church leaders had to be cautious when dealing with Father Dayn. However, now that Father Miller had spoken, Dayn had no room to struggle. He would fall into the whirlpool without even realizing it. His influence was ultimately too weak, and what’s more, the God-favored was his direct superior.

“What are you planning to do?” Victor pressed.

“I’ll write a personal order for Dayn to cooperate with you. When the time comes, you trick him into coming along, show him the order, and force him to act with you.”

“This… isn’t this too simple?” Victor pursed his lips in dissatisfaction.

Miller shot him a look. “Dayn’s choices and sacrifices will determine whether our Lord favors him. How far he can go in the future will depend on him. This expedition with you is the beginning of his changing fate… He originally had no chance at all. I didn’t think much of him at first.”

With that, the old priest rose and walked to a cupboard, pulled open a drawer, and took out a holy power crystal that glowed with a platinum luster. He handed it to Victor, saying, “The longer a clergy member, especially a priest, is away from a church, the weaker his holy power becomes. Even deep meditation can barely replenish it, and eventually, he will become an ordinary person. That’s why clergy always carry holy power crystals when operating in the wilderness to supplement their holy power loss.”

“This holy power crystal contains power I drew from our Lord. A priest carrying it can cast 6th-level divine arts and won’t need to replenish holy power from a Pool of Holy Power. I wasn’t planning on leaving it for Dayn. I’m only giving it to him because you asked.”

“This is really great stuff.” Victor carefully took the holy power crystal and tucked it into his pocket.

Miller couldn’t help but say, “This holy power crystal is only useful to priests. Don’t you go hoarding it.”

“I won’t, I won’t…” Victor quickly shook his head, then asked, “Who did you originally plan to leave this holy power crystal to?”

“I hadn’t decided… and it’s none of your business,” Miller grumbled.

“Well, now it is my business.” Victor rubbed his hands together, grinning. “Do you have anything good for me?”

Miller snorted coldly. “Don’t get too happy just yet. The holy power crystal isn’t a free gift… You must sow before you can reap, you must give before you can receive. Since you’ve taken my Holy Crystal, you must pay the price. Otherwise, when your luck runs out, don’t blame me for not reminding you.”

Victor was startled. He frowned, his long, straight brows knitting together. “What do you want?”

Miller gave him a deep look and said, “I want you to teach Dayn the best Source Blood Secret Art.”

“The Source Blood Secret Art… with a little time, the Church would have stolen it from the Centaur Hills anyway.” Victor grew suspicious and pressed, “Are you sure you only want the Source Blood Secret Art?”

“I said the best Source Blood Secret Art… Each time you improve it, you must teach it to Dayn. If he perishes during this mission, you must continue to teach the best Source Blood Secret Art to the person I designate,” Father Miller said gravely, his eyes fixed on Victor’s.

The Source Blood Secret Art was the foundation for training Mind Warriors. Its main function was to comprehensively improve the practitioner’s physical attributes, which made it widely applicable. The Retainer Training Camp would teach the second and third-level Source Blood Secret Art to its students, so it was nearly impossible for Victor to keep it a secret. However, the significance and impact of the Church stealing the secret art versus Dayn proactively submitting it were completely different.

Victor thought for a moment and nodded his assent. “Alright, I agree. But…”

“But what but?!” Miller’s beard bristled as he glowered. “I have nothing else for you, unless you’re willing to pay a greater price.”

Victor rubbed the divine arts ring on his middle finger, shrugged, and said with some regret, “Then let’s forget it.”

Father Miller’s expression softened slightly. He advised, “Victor, I’ve done my best. All I can give you now is a piece of advice: keep that Purple Gold Coin with you, and don’t lose it.”

A thought stirred in Victor’s heart. He nodded, his expression solemn. “I will… Your Excellency, do you have any other advice?”

Father Miller was silent for two seconds, then sighed and said, “Take care of Bel. That is what I hope for.”

Chapter 739: Intimidation

On the northern slope of the mountain stronghold, Beldina was picking Ghostface Mushrooms in the mushroom farm, a small basket crooked on her left arm and a pair of scissors in her right hand.

This was a rare, marsh-dwelling poisonous mushroom used to create a special potion that could mask one’s scent from marsh-dwelling beasts and Lizardmen. The Ghostface Mushrooms themselves had an incredibly foul smell and grew on decaying wood, causing the entire mushroom farm to be permeated with a nauseating, strange odor.

But Bel was humming an out-of-tune children’s song, happily snipping Ghostface Mushrooms from the rotting wood in the sewage pond and placing them in her basket. She was dressed in thick clothing, covered by a heavy deerskin coat and a hood. A towel covered her mouth and nose, revealing only a pair of clear, lively eyes. The whole ensemble made her look round and chubby, like a cute little bear.

Before long, her basket was full of Ghostface Mushrooms. She skipped out of the farm and held up her little basket to a tall, gorgeous female warrior, showing it off as if to curry favor. “Bel picked another basket of mushrooms.”

The female warrior wore a uniquely shaped horned helm, a half-grille mask obscuring her eyes, yet her delicate chin and fiery red lips made one’s imagination run wild about the unparalleled beauty hidden behind the faceplate. It was early in the second month of the Season of Water, and the weather was cold, yet the warrior wore only a half-cuirass with pauldrons, a pair of tassets, over-the-knee war boots, and vambraces that reached her elbows. Her slender, supple waist and long, shapely thighs were exposed, her skin smooth, firm, and dazzlingly white, fully displaying the vibrant beauty unique to an extraordinary life form.

She took the basket, poured the Ghostface Mushrooms into a wooden barrel nearby, then pulled down Bel’s towel and massaged her plump, rosy little cheeks. When she was satisfied, she stepped aside, and three other female warriors dressed in the same attire swarmed forward, each reaching out to ravish Bel’s hair, ears, cheeks, and nose.

“Bel is so cute…”

“Bel is so capable…”

“Let me touch you again…”

Victor witnessed this from a distance, feeling both amused and annoyed. It was well known in Silver Moon Manor that Beldina was a lazy glutton. She only acted diligent and took the initiative to work when she had made a mistake, intending to please Nicole and Elina to escape punishment. The little foodie was well-versed in the art of acting cute and obedient; her naive innocence was an ever-victorious weapon, and almost no one could resist Bel’s unique spiritual charm.

Now, the four Dragonkin handmaidens had also fallen for Beldina’s naive charm.

Of course, the attention of Dragonoids was probably not a good thing for Bel. She had once spent some time with a tribe of Ogres in the Lizard Marsh. Although she hadn’t encountered any danger, the Ogre tribe had fed her with the intention of sharing her amongst themselves once she was as plump and sturdy as their chief.

The meals provided by the Ogres must have been… quite an ordeal for little Bel, perhaps?

The Dragonoid handmaidens were far more terrifying than the Ogres.

This time, Victor had ordered the Source-blood militia to bring Bel to the mountain stronghold and used his telepathic link to instruct the four Dragonkin handmaidens to protect her. But the concept transmitted through the telepathic link was vague, and the Dragonoids had actually started treating Beldina like a piece of treasure. No wonder the little girl wasn’t afraid of the dirt and toil, trying every way she could to please them.

Sensing their Master’s presence, the four Dragonkin handmaidens simultaneously turned to look in Victor’s direction. Mewen the Ripper was the first to let go of Bel. She turned and dashed away, swiftly cresting the slope and running towards Victor. The Raiders Dili and Fugerui followed close behind. Just as Beldina breathed a sigh of relief, Laila of the Red Dragon Bloodline grabbed her, tucked her under her arm, and ran after her three companions.

This little girl was the treasure she was responsible for guarding, a right she had snatched from the other three Dragonkin handmaidens.

Seeing that Mewen was about to reach their Master’s side to fawn over him, with Dili and Fugerui not far behind, Laila, who was trailing, was suddenly burning with jealousy. Anxious and angry, she wanted to use her Dragon’s Rage talent to catch up to the other three wretched dragons.

Beldina was being jostled so much she felt like she was about to fall apart. The fierce wind buffeted her face, making it impossible to open her eyes. Her deerskin hat and scarf had long been blown away, and her brown hair flew straight back, looking for all the world like it had exploded. If Laila were to use her Dragon’s Rage talent and increase her speed by another forty percent, it was questionable whether Bel could even continue to breathe.

With a thought from Victor, a gentle breeze enveloped the Dragonkin handmaiden and Beldina. The rushing wind immediately softened, and Laila, understanding her Master’s intent, held Bel steady in her arms in a princess carry. Aided by the acceleration of the Raging Wind Domain, she rushed past the two Raiders and arrived at her Master’s side.

She set the dazed little Bel down and hugged Victor’s right arm, her fiery red eyes glaring from behind her grille mask, using her Fearful Gaze to intimidate Mewen on the other side, signaling for her to yield and retreat.

Megfiawen, with her radiant looks and slender, well-proportioned figure, was not the least bit afraid of Laila. She manifested the Blue Dragon Bloodline, which was perfectly compatible with Victor’s affinity, and their telepathic link was the strongest. While the other Dragonkin handmaidens received the grace of the wind element from Victor, which enhanced their Perception slightly, Mewen had inherited the complete Wind Walk talent and was also immune to Alexia’s Fearful Gaze.

However, Mewen’s nature was fickle, curious, and ever-changing. Beldina’s allure was not nearly as strong for her as Victor’s, which was why she had ceded the right to guard the “treasure” to Alexia.

“Master, what took you so long?” Mewen completely ignored Laila’s threat, hugging Victor’s arm and cooing.

The other three Dragonkin handmaidens were not to be outdone, chattering and fawning around Victor. Beldina was completely ignored.

In truth, Victor found this behavior quite annoying. After dozens of days of painstaking training, the female Dragonoids hadn’t learned any of the demure poise a lord’s handmaiden should possess. The moment they saw him, their true natures were exposed. When he wasn’t at the mountain stronghold, they were likely just as unrestrained.

However, he was exceptionally pleased with the Dragonkin handmaidens’ intimate display towards their Master in front of Beldina today.

It had been proven that ordinary alchemical units would now never harm Beldina, even if Victor himself gave the order. Bel could even command the alchemical units to do things for her; her authority was second only to Victor’s. If their orders conflicted, the alchemical creatures would follow Victor’s command.

This naturally-born Inspector, Beldina, seemed to have little effect on Victor. However, alchemical creatures made by Alchemy Tower No. 7 were spread all over the world, and it was impossible for Victor to personally inform every Alchemical human to ignore Beldina’s instructions. Moreover, Beldina already knew the secrets of Alchemy Tower No. 7. Her existence was, after all, a hidden danger.

The Dragonoid handmaidens, bound to Victor by the Dragon Pact, were not affected by the Alchemy Tower’s mechanism. They would obey Victor’s commands absolutely.

If Victor temporarily set aside the potential danger Beldina represented, the little foodie and junior Shamaness was actually a huge help to him. Take the plan to completely eradicate the Ant-man plague, for example; Beldina’s involvement was indispensable.

Beyond that, Beldina could accurately locate the ruins of other Alchemy Towers, making the improvement and upgrading of Alchemy Tower No. 7 much easier. However, the stronger the Alchemy Tower’s power became, the greater Beldina’s authority grew. Victor had to place bodyguards by her side to prevent her from being enticed away by people or other beings. In a situation where things became irreversible, they also had to be able to eliminate the threat at a moment’s notice.

Of course, Victor could harden his heart and execute Beldina right now. But that was clearly not a wise decision. At least for now, Bel was still under his control. If she died, a second and third Bel would surely appear in some corner of the world at some point in time.

If the Master of Alchemy Tower No. 7 openly defied the arrangements of the Force of Destiny, then the Force of Destiny would give rise to a new Tower Master and Inspector, who would be intensely hostile towards Victor.

Beldina currently occupied the position of Inspector of the Alchemical Empire, which was actually a pretty good thing.

The Dragonoid handmaidens, who shared a telepathic link with Victor, were the most suitable for the role of Beldina’s bodyguards. Unfortunately, they had a lifespan of only twenty-five years at most, while Alchemy Tower No. 7 needed more than eighty years to restore its production functions. It was for this very reason that Victor had to find the Rune Crystal of Creation within twenty-five years to repair Alchemy Tower No. 7 ahead of schedule.

The arrangements of the Force of Destiny were always inescapable… Victor sighed silently in his heart, reached out to ruffle Beldina’s little head, and said with a stern face, “Bel, you have committed the crime of stealing your Master’s property!”

“I didn’t steal anything… I just snuck a jar of honey.” Bel lowered her head, peeking up at Victor’s cold expression, and added guiltily, “And a jar of fish roe… and four cream and pine nut cakes, and, and a box of candied fruit, three cups of goat’s milk, five salted lizard eggs…”

“Bel won’t dare to steal food again… Master, don’t lock Bel up in prison here. Bel wants to go home, it’s so scary here.” Beldina tugged on Victor’s sleeve, looking up and pleading, “Bel will work hard, Master, take me with you.”

She could eat five salted lizard eggs?!

Victor was secretly flabbergasted, feeling he had severely underestimated the little foodie’s appetite. He said in an icy tone, “This isn’t the first day you’ve been stealing food… I’m talking about Alchemy Tower No. 7. You stole the Tower’s authority.”

“…Huh?”

Hearing that her Master wasn’t scolding her for stealing food, Beldina immediately relaxed. Her chubby little hand patted her small chest. Tilting up her round, apple-red face, she explained, “Master, there was a voice in Bel’s head, saying that Alchemy Tower No. 7 was about to be damaged, and it asked if I wanted to repair it or shut it down. I didn’t dare tell My Lady Nicole, or My Lady Elina, or My Lady Alice, or My Lady Lilia. Bel only wanted to tell Master, but Master wasn’t home… It asked Bel every day. Whenever Bel thought about it, it would ask, and it was so noisy Bel couldn’t sleep. So I went to see where the voice was coming from. The guards at the Hill Secret Fortress let Bel in. Bel originally wanted to shut down Alchemy Tower No. 7, but I couldn’t. The voice told me Alchemy Tower No. 7 had a master. So I chose to repair it, and then the voice disappeared.”

“Master, Bel didn’t steal the Alchemy Tower,” Beldina said, pouting her lips, looking very wronged.

Victor was silent for a moment, then said, “Ignorance is no excuse for making a mistake… When you make a mistake, you must pay the price. Do you know what they are?”

As soon as he finished speaking, the four Dragonkin handmaidens simultaneously transformed into three-meter-tall Dragonkin with sharp horns and long tails. They crouched on the ground, opening their bloody maws filled with sharp teeth and slowly closing in on Beldina.

“Ah, ah, monsters, monsters, don’t eat Bel!”

Surrounded by the four Dragonkin, Beldina was so scared she started hopping from foot to foot. Seeing the monsters’ mouths getting closer and closer, she finally let out a wail, hugged her head, and crouched on the ground, tears and snot streaming down her face.

“Waaah… Grandpa Miller, save me!”

“Ah… Aka, come save me.”

“Papa, save me…”

“My Lady Elina, save me! My Lady Alice, save me! My Lady Nicole, save me! My Lady Lilia, save me!”

“Master, save me…”

Bel was terrified, crying out for help to each of her closest people in turn. When she called out for her Master, Victor lifted her from the ground. She threw her arms around his neck and sobbed her heart out.

After crying in Victor’s arms for a while, her curiosity got the better of her. She opened her blurry, tear-filled eyes to look for the four terrifying monsters from before. She found that they were all facing outward, staring in the same direction. The one that was red all over, like flowing flames, was letting out a low, muffled roar. The damp earth beneath its claws was drying and cracking, and sparks flew from its nostrils. It looked furious.

A light flashed in Victor’s unusual dark gold eyes. The four Dragonkin, enraged by the provocation, showed human-like expressions of confusion. They then reversed their joints, stood up, and formed a line, awaiting their Master’s command.

“Because you rashly repaired the Alchemy Tower, you nearly caused Laila and the others to lose control. If I hadn’t been here, you would have already been eaten by them.” Victor took out a handkerchief and carefully wiped Bel’s face, earnestly admonishing her, “From now on, if you hear any voice in your head, you must tell me immediately. You are not allowed to make decisions on your own. Do you understand?”

“I understand. Bel will be the most obedient,” Beldina nodded repeatedly, promising, “I’ll only tell Master.”

“Go take a bath and change your clothes. You reak of Ghostface Mushrooms, and your face is a mess from crying,” Victor said, setting Beldina down.

“I’m scared… Master, take Bel for a bath.”

Victor almost wanted to facepalm. This little girl was twenty-five years old this year. Even if she looked like she was only ten, she was still a young woman, equivalent to a fifteen-year-old on Earth.

However, Bel’s mind was indeed still in its childhood. She was naive and innocent, and her words were unintentional. There was no need to be too fussy with her. Victor summoned two Alchemical militia, ordered them to protect Beldina, and then told Bel to go bathe by herself.

With the Alchemical militia accompanying her, Bel was no longer afraid. She wiped her face with her sleeve but smelled the strange odor of the Ghostface Mushrooms. Spitting twice, she quickly took her bodyguards to the fortress to wash up.

Watching the little girl’s figure disappear into the fortress, Victor turned his head to gaze into the distance, frowning and shaking his head. He sighed to himself:

“…That big simpleton Aka ruined my plan.”

He had just been trying to use the Dragonkin to force out Beldina’s potential, but her calls for help had attracted Caligula’s attention.

Aka had rushed over from Silver Moon Manor, dozens of kilometers away. His Touch of the Mind had locked onto the four Dragonkin threatening Beldina, and the Gold-level spiritual intimidation had completely enraged the Dragonkin handmaidens.

Through his telepathic link with the Dragonkin, Victor could feel Caligula’s spiritual will. The big simpleton had gone all out, his mind power surging like monstrous waves crashing against the souls of the Dragonkin handmaidens.

Although Caligula’s mind power was strong, it was not enough to shake the Will Side of the four Dragonkin. Instead, it constituted a provocation. Alexia almost couldn’t stop herself from wanting to kill him. Victor could placate the Dragonkin handmaidens for a moment, but he couldn’t stop the big simpleton from constantly provoking the dragon-types.

Forced, he used his link with Mewen to sting Caligula’s mind sharply. Aka sensed his master’s will and presence and immediately retracted his power.

The Dragonkin handmaidens didn’t understand why, but they obeyed Victor’s mental command, undid their Dragon-form transformation, and returned to their beautiful and enchanting Dragonoid forms.

Victor ignored the four Dragonkin handmaidens, who were now revealing all their charms. He was still hung up on the fact that Beldina had called for his help last.

It was no wonder, though. The Gold-Eyed Earl spent years on campaigns and little time at Silver Moon Manor. The time he spent with Beldina was even less, and besides, the little foodie’s spiritual charm had almost no effect on him. Over time, Bel had gradually grown distant from him.

The value and potential Beldina had shown could no longer be ignored by Victor. From now on, he had to keep her by his side at all times.

Leading the four female Dragonoids into the Knight’s Hall of the fortress, Victor had them go change into long handmaiden dresses while he sat on the throne in the center of the hall, quietly waiting for another key person.

Before long, Charlotte, clad in female Thorium battle armor, appeared before the throne in the Knight’s Hall with Imoson the Wizard. Victor tapped the armrest and said from his high vantage point, “You saw everything.”

Imoson dropped to his knees with a thud on the steps before the throne and pleaded mournfully, “Master, I beg you to spare Beldina. Don’t let… don’t let them eat my daughter.”

Chapter 740: Motivation

“You’re begging me to let Bel go?”

Victor rested his cheek on his left fist, his light, pleasant voice echoing in the empty great hall. “In what capacity are you pleading with me now? As Beldina’s father… as the master of the hunt for the House of Randell… as my vassal? Or as Imosen, the Wizard who once sought my protection and swore fealty to me?”

“There is one other status you may have forgotten. I feel it necessary to remind you…”

Victor gazed at the Wizard kneeling below the steps and said coolly, “You and Beldina are both my captives.”

Imosen had indeed forgotten his status as a captive. He recalled the clash with the Randall family’s Secret Art Guards in the Lizard Marsh, where he had controlled the Giant Aberration Itugos to kill eleven Secret Art Guards, eighteen Warhounds, and a domesticated Marsh Dragon-Lizard. His hands were stained with the blood of the House of Randell.

As captives, he and Beldina belonged to Earl Randell, to be dealt with as he saw fit. All his years of hard work, his achievements, and his contributions were nothing more than his duties, with no conditions attached.

Imosen’s face went pale, the words of his plea caught in his throat. He pressed his forehead completely against the cold rock brick floor, praying that his master would show mercy and let him and Beldina off.

Dark gold eyes reflected the trembling Wizard, and the ever-present wind element perceived his terror. Victor mused for a moment, then nodded and said, “Imosen, you must understand. I protected you; I granted you beauties, wealth, and land; I imparted to you precious ancient knowledge and a Wizard’s experience, and provided you with all manner of extraordinary resources. I even gave you a life-extending potion that not even Duke York could enjoy… All of this was my gift to you, not a transaction.”

In this world, few ordinary people lived to be seventy-five. Even a Wizard who had solidified their Light of the Mind wouldn’t live much longer without special means. The life-extending potion, with the heart of a Dragon-blooded Kobold as its main ingredient, could increase an ordinary person’s lifespan by at least twenty years, and it significantly slowed the aging process. After taking the potion provided by Victor, Imosen clearly felt himself growing younger—or rather, his physical strength and vigor were more abundant than before. But he had never imagined the potion was so precious that the lofty Duke York himself had not received it, yet his master had given it to him.

In comparison, what was breeding a few beasts and enslaving some Goblins for his master?

Imosen was both ashamed and grateful. Kneeling on the floor, he said respectfully, “Bel and I will forever be our master’s servants.”

“Rise.” Victor smiled faintly and gestured for the Wizard to stand. He then continued, “You are Beldina’s biological father. No matter how much you care for her, in my eyes, you are you, and she is she. You have neither the right nor the authority to represent her will.”

Imosen’s eyes filled with pain. After a few seconds of struggle, he said dejectedly, “Yes.”

Victor nodded in approval. “First, you and Bel are both my captives, who traded your loyalty and freedom for my forgiveness and protection, thus becoming my servants. Second, you once declared to me that you would not acknowledge your relationship with Beldina and requested that I keep this secret, to which I agreed. Third, Beldina is twenty-five this year; she is an adult. Do you acknowledge these three points?”

“I acknowledge them… but I care for Bel too much,” Imosen argued with a bitter expression.

“On the premise that you are clear about your own identity and loyal to me, I permit you to care for your daughter.” Victor’s long fingers tapped the armrest of his throne. “I am fond of Bel as well, not because of her unique Wizardry, but simply because I like her. So, you don’t need to worry too much about me harming her. However, the York family, the House of Randell, the Centaur Hills, and the Randell Fief are about to face a major crisis, one that could lead to our ruin, and Bel is the key to resolving it.”

Imosen’s pupils instantly dilated. “Master, what on earth has happened?” he asked in horror.

“…It’s the Ant-men.” Victor thought for a moment and said, “To put it simply, the number of Ant-men in the next tide could exceed three-hundred thousand. They can also dig tunnels and forge new paths, so I fear the three fortresses blocking the passes of the Larkspur Mountains won’t be able to stop their army. I plan to take Bel to the Endless Forest to find the Ant-man lair and, using her special abilities, attempt to dismantle the Ant-man threat from its very source.”

The Wizard’s face turned pale then livid. He mumbled, “I don’t understand…”

“There are some things you don’t need to understand,” Victor interrupted Imosen’s question and said coldly, “Unless you choose to travel with us, you are to stay obediently in the Randell Fief and pray that we can eliminate the Ant-man plague and return safely.”

“Master, I am willing to follow you into the Endless Forest and fight the Ant-men!” Imosen shouted without hesitation.

Victor sized up the flushed Wizard, a playful smile gracing his lips. “You… are too weak… Imosen, you have top-tier talent for Wizardry, yet you resist your identity as a Wizard. You’re suited to be a scholar, but you don’t know how to use Wizardry for combat.”

Imosen’s face grew redder, this time with shame. He said, a little indignantly, “I received training in martial skills before; I was a qualified vassal soldier. I even survived with Bel in the dangerous Great Marsh for ten years and defeated an Ogre tribe. I know how to use my abilities.”

“And you’re aware that was in the past,” Victor said mockingly. “Since you became the master of the hunt for the Randall family, have you been properly practicing the secret art combat techniques I taught you? I provided you with the best potions and personally guided you in cultivating the Mind Bloodline secret art. You should have already forged the Vital Tenacity Talent and become an initial-rank Mind Warrior. And the result? You’re only a little stronger than an ordinary vassal soldier, and you’re no match for them in a contest of martial skills.” At this, he shook his head and sighed. “In this world, no monster can hold me back, not even the Ant-men. This expedition will take three years at the very least to return from. I will do my best to ensure Bel’s safety… As for you, just forget it. Lucy just gave you a son. I called you to the mountain stronghold just so you and your daughter could say goodbye.”

Imosen, who had already been wavering, immediately dropped to one knee upon hearing the words “say goodbye.” He said in a deep voice, “Honored Master, Lucy and my son are safe in the Randell Fief. I am willing to give my all for you and for the House of Randell, even if it means being purified by the Inquisition.”

“Is that so? You’ll have to prove yourself.” At Victor’s thought, the crisp clatter of high heels on the rock brick floor came from the corridor. Four beautiful and enchanting Dragonkin handmaidens entered in single file. They wore goose-yellow head handmaiden dresses, their long, pale legs flashing through the slits of their skirts as they walked. Their bearing was elegant yet alluring, their expressions and temperaments ranging from proud to languid to spirited, but all carried a frighteningly terrifying might.

Each of them carried a powerfully built, adult Mountain Ape. These beasts, known for their violent tempers, were now curled into balls, not daring to move even when the Dragonkin handmaidens tossed them to the ground, like lambs to the slaughter.

Victor gestured with his chin toward the half-dead Mountain Apes. “You do know some martial skills, but you must combine them with Wisdom Guidance Wizardry. You must cultivate humanoid Giant Aberrations. If you can transform them into giant beasts similar to the white ape, you will have proven you have the right to join our operation.”

Imosen used his Wizardry to examine the souls and physical states of the four Mountain Apes and frowned. “Master, cultivating Biological Aberrations similar to the giant white ape might be difficult.”

Victor’s gaze sharpened. “I believe you are already capable of controlling the direction of a creature’s Aberration, shaping them into the forms you desire.”

A reserved, self-satisfied smile appeared on Imosen’s face. He nodded. “Of course… According to monsterology, the giant white ape stands about seven to nine meters tall, with an average weight of over eight tons. Its muscles and hide are as tough as refined iron. It can leap thirty meters high and seventy meters far in a single bound, and it possesses a deep Frenzy talent. If it’s merely a matter of cultivating an Aberrant Beast based on the white ape’s size and strength, I am confident I can do it. They might even be taller and stronger than a white ape, but recreating the white ape’s combat intuition and Frenzy talent… that’s impossible. Moreover, cultivating a giant Aberrant Beast requires absorbing a massive amount of flesh and blood.”

Victor smiled noncommittally and said, “This is a test—a test of your level of Wizardry and your resolve to take this risk. I won’t force you regarding how much you can achieve. But I can tell you this: no combat talent is greater than wisdom. The aberrant war beasts you cultivate must be attuned to your Wisdom Guidance Wizardry. When the two are one, you can experience the fire of the mind, combat intuition, and even the Touch of the Mind through the aberrant puppet… The problem of blood and flesh for the Aberrant Beasts is also easy to solve. There are tens of thousands of Goblins in the Great Marsh.”

Imosen paused, asking in confusion, “Master, are we to abandon all those Goblin slaves?”

“We are.” Victor shook his head and said with a wry smile, “In preparing for the worst, I must eliminate as many Goblins as possible to prevent them from becoming a food reserve for the Ant-man army.”

“I understand.” Imosen nodded with some regret, then asked, “When do I begin? If the supply of Goblin flesh and blood is sufficient, I guarantee I can cultivate a giant Aberrant Beast within a month.”

“You don’t need one giant aberrant beast. First, cultivate four large aberrant beasts of different forms. On the way to the Endless Forest, we will decide whether to have them devour each other based on the situation.” Victor mused, “I also need to gather some men to help you slaughter the Goblins in the marsh. Of course, your identity as a Wizard can no longer be kept a secret from them.”

Imosen glanced at Charlotte standing nearby, then at the four Dragonkin handmaidens, and said sullenly, “I don’t care anymore.”

Victor chuckled. “Rest assured, those who know your and Bel’s identities are all core members of the family… Oh, that’s right, Father Dayn will be coming with us as well. Don’t be afraid; I guarantee the Holy See will not pursue you and Beldina. In truth, the Church secretly keeps more Wizards than anyone.”

Imosen’s face turned pale, his lips trembling, unable to utter a word.

Victor cleared his throat and said with a playful smile, “If you render great service to the family this time, I will reward you in the future with a handmaiden as powerful as them to serve and protect you. Hmm, not these four, though. They are all my personal maids.”

Imosen’s recovering complexion instantly turned a pasty white tinged with green. He waved his hands frantically and said in alarm, “Master, please spare me… I wouldn’t dare.”

No matter how greedy he was for beautiful women, he would never dare to entertain ideas about the Dragonkin handmaidens. He had personally witnessed these stunning beauties transform into terrifying monsters. Besides, their horns clearly marked them as non-human.

Victor laughed heartily. “Take them and find a place to rest for now. A little later, I will summon my people and explain the situation to you.”

“As you command, my honored Master.” Imosen bowed deeply, took a few steps back, and then turned to leave.

The four half-dead Mountain Apes suddenly scrambled to their feet. Their grey-green eyes had turned dark red, glowing with a vicious, bloodthirsty, yet cold and fearless light. They followed the Wizard toward a corridor on the side of the great hall.

“Ooh, this lowly servant is quite capable, only a little weaker than Beldina,” the red dragon Laila said in a sweet voice, tilting her stunningly beautiful face up at Victor. “My King, is he also a treasure to be protected?”

“All of you, stand properly… and contain your gazes.” Victor chided the four Dragonkin handmaidens in annoyance. The moment he let his guard down, these creatures would reveal their draconic natures, curling up at his feet one by one, completely disregarding the proper etiquette of a handmaiden.

Victor’s gaze turned to the fully on-guard Charlotte. He smiled. “My dear, you have many questions.”

Charlotte’s eyes were complex as she looked at the four primly standing Dragonkin handmaidens. The oppressive aura they exuded had completely vanished. She stopped circulating her Aura, her red lips parted, but she didn’t know what to ask.

The events of the day had been too shocking and incomprehensible. Charlotte had too many questions in her mind and hadn’t been able to sort through her thoughts. For a moment, she was speechless, only subconsciously stroking the Thorium armor she wore.

“This armor is made from Silver-rank Ant-man carapace and soft silver. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

As Victor descended from the throne, he dismissed the four Dragonkin handmaidens and strolled over to Charlotte’s side. He lifted her elegantly curved chin and said with a smile, “Soft silver is also called Thorium. It can integrate with most materials, imparting metallic properties to them. Thus, Silver-rank Ant-man armor is light, flexible, and sturdy—the best armor currently available. But it’s not suitable for Silver Knights, as it possesses a decent level of Elemental Resistance. If we were to forge Thorium armor for a High-ranked Knight, we shouldn’t use the carapace of an Ant-man chief. We should use giant rhino hide, six-legged crocodile hide, or Marsh Dragon-Lizard hide as the material. The resulting Thorium armor would be more attuned to the elements than most Mithril armor.”

Thorium was undoubtedly a treasure, and the sensation it could cause would surely rival the debut of rock bricks. But Charlotte’s attention was completely captivated by the beautiful and powerful Dragonkin handmaidens. After a moment of silence, her eyes dimmed as she said, “They are…”

“They are dragons.”

“Huh?!” Charlotte felt her mind go blank, wondering if she had misheard.

Victor nodded, then changed the subject. “I’ll explain that matter slowly in the future. In any case, they can’t replace you. Take this letter at once, bring Reno with you, and secretly summon Narsen, Brandt, Klaus, Ghostface Tao De, Caligula, Blood Python Macy, Rogers, and Red Wolf to the mountain stronghold for me. Remember, no one else can know about this.”

Charlotte temporarily set aside her questions about the dragons and nodded. “Yes… Reno, he seems to have gotten stronger.”

“He’s also become an idiot,” Victor said with a laugh. “As long as everyone recognizes him, it’s fine.”

Charlotte thought for a moment, then lowered her head and asked weakly, “Then… what about Lady Sylvia?”

Victor sighed inwardly and said in frustration, “She can’t know for now…”

The corners of Charlotte’s lips curled up, blossoming into a captivating smile. She took the initiative to offer Victor a fragrant kiss, her gaze as gentle as honey.

“My dear Master, I’ll see to it at once.”

Chapter 741: Planning

Charlotte changed out of her Thorium battle armor, mounted a Swiftbird, and left the mountain stronghold with Reno. Victor forced the four Dragonkin handmaidens to go to the Treasury to hibernate so they would stop clinging to him. Then, he went up to the third floor of the castle alone, entered a study, and while waiting for his vassals to assemble, he carefully considered his plan of action for the突袭 on the Ant-man lair.

The Ant-men were the first clear mortal enemies Victor had faced since his new life began. When he was weak, he had needed to rely on the York family’s manpower and resources to build fortifications, taking a passive, defensive posture. Now, Victor was powerful enough. As the situation had gradually become clearer, he had both the ability and the necessity to switch from defense to offense. He would travel to the Endless Forest and, before the Ant-man army’s war machine was fully operational, solve this trouble weighing on his mind once and for all.

Of course, this was not the only option on the table. Victor was equally confident that he could crush the invading Ant-man army on a conventional battlefield.

According to the records of ancient Alchemists, an Ant-man queen could produce a maximum of six hundred thousand Ant-man units. To reach the Larkspur Mountains adjacent to the Randell Fief, they would have to set out from their nest in the Endless Forest, cross the unnamed Great Plains, and then traverse the Lizard Marsh.

Over such a great distance, it was impossible for an army of six hundred thousand Ant-men to mobilize all at once. Considering that a portion of the forces would have to remain behind to guard the queen, Victor estimated that the number of Ant-man units actually invading the Centaur Hills would not exceed four hundred thousand. Furthermore, they would have to march in waves; otherwise, they would be so hungry halfway through that they would be reduced to eating dirt.

The larger an expeditionary force, the slower its pace of advance. This principle was immutable.

Theoretically, the Ant-man plague would erupt in seven years. In reality, the Ant-man forces attacking the Centaur Hills would likely reach their peak sometime between seven and nine years from now.

With the backing of the entire human kingdoms and several years to prepare, the York family held advantages in logistics, army mobilization, defensive fortifications, and tactics. They were fully capable of annihilating four hundred thousand Ant-man units.

But if it truly came to all-out war, the Centaur Hills that Victor and Sylvia had painstakingly built up would be smashed to pieces, and the vast fortune of gold coins they had accumulated would likely be carved up by the other lords and the Church. Moreover, defeating the invading Ant-man army did not mean the Ant-man plague was over. As long as the queen lived, the swarm would never be truly wiped out; after a certain period, they would always regroup and return.

Victor needed to prepare for two scenarios. One was for him to travel to the Endless Forest in search of the Elemental Rune Crystal that controlled the Ant-men. The other was for Sylvia to defend the Centaur Hills and actively prepare for war. The best outcome would be if he could resolve the Ant-man plague smoothly. But if the surprise attack failed, he would return to the Centaur Hills to face the Ant-man army head-on.

With the power of the Raging Wind Sword Saint, a trip to the Endless Forest to confront the Ant-man nest posed little real danger. Victor was confident in his ability to retreat unscathed from the Ant-men.

The overall plan for the raid was simple: Victor would take Beldina, find the ruins of the ancient Assyrian Empire, search for the Elemental Rune Crystal that controlled the Ant-man race, and then have Beldina shut down the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower.

In reality, things were likely to be far more complicated. The ancestor’s notes provided by Trigovar described the general location of the Assyrian Empire and the evil god’s altar, but those records were from over one thousand five hundred years ago, and the Marvelous Crystal left by Isocrates was more than twenty thousand years old.

Such a vast expanse of time was enough to change everything, shrouding reality in an unknown mist. Victor could not be certain if the Elemental Rune Crystal of the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower still existed, where it was, or whether its compulsory control over the Ant-man race was still effective. However, the raid on the Ant-man nest was worth a try, and Father Miller’s foresighted preparations gave Victor a measure of confidence.

Taking only Beldina, Caligula, and the four Dragonkin handmaidens to the Endless Forest would certainly be the fastest combination, but for just seven people to find a tiny Elemental Rune Crystal in the depths of the Endless Forest would be incredibly difficult. Furthermore, losing any single member along the way would put the team in even greater danger.

The raid plan required high-end combat power, but it also needed a certain number of eyes and ears, claws, decoys, and sacrifices. Fortunately, cannon fodder was the one thing Victor did not lack. He could mobilize two hundred Source-blood militia at any time, and also had Alchemical Warhounds, Alchemical Dragon-Lizards, and alchemical crows at his disposal.

The more people on the team, the higher the fault tolerance, but the slower the advance. Based on the information he had, Victor estimated the most appropriate number of personnel to be under three hundred, including Warhound and Dragon-Lizard units.

As for the team’s functional structure, that was hardly an issue. a third-level Source-Blood Militia possessed physical qualities comparable to a mid-rank Bronze Knight, but their stamina, self-healing, and environmental adaptability were superior. They were equipped with the Gathering skill, excelled at wilderness survival, understood the habits of various monsters and beasts, could identify plants, and could concoct potions for different purposes. They were all-purpose Secret Art Guards. Unfortunately, the third-level Source-Blood Militia had come into being too recently; their rigid thinking and mechanical behavior were their fatal flaws.

The newly created alchemical humans could not stand on their own; none were up to major tasks. They needed experienced Corporals, leaders with keen intuition, and calm, rational tactical commanders.

There were no better commanders than Knights, and the Randell Knights who could currently be trusted to keep a secret were Charlotte, Brandon, Klaus, and Tao De. The Randell family’s Ferocious Warriors—Rogers, Red Wolf, and Macy—could serve as guides.

Victor planned to pair one family Knight with one Ferocious Warrior and add a Dragonkin handmaiden to form the three-person core of three separate squads. One squad would serve as the vanguard, while the other two would form the left and right flanks. He himself would lead the main force in the center to provide support.

With the Dragonkin handmaidens, who shared a telepathic link with their Master, serving as couriers for the outer squads, Victor could use telepathy to keep track of the three squads’ movements in real time. He could quickly coordinate deployments based on different situations, without having to worry about squads getting lost or facing enemies without support.

If all the members participating in the raid were considered a single, complete living entity, it first needed to possess multiple types, multiple layers, and a fully three-dimensional array of senses.

Each squad had the perception of ordinary humans, the mental perception of the Ferocious Warriors, the draconic senses of the Dragonoids, the avian perception of the alchemical crows, the feral senses of the Alchemical Warhounds, and the unique senses of the Alchemical Dragon-Lizards—superb olfaction and thermal imaging.

Due to the varying strength levels of the squad members, their judgment and reaction to danger precognition were also completely different. The beasts, venomous insects, and deadly traps that an Alchemical Warhound would be wary of were nothing to a Dragonkin handmaiden. The threats they perceived were at least Gold-rank existences.

These constituted the so-called multi-layered, multi-faceted, and three-dimensional modes of perception.

Perception was the key to victory. Victor not only possessed extremely powerful senses but also extraordinary analytical abilities. Super-vision, super-smell, super-hearing, Blind Sense, and beyond-visual-range perception, as well as minutely detailed Wind Elemental Insight—all these talents were uniformly optimized by X-3, which could supplement and present all collected information, creating what was effectively a perception domain.

However, Victor’s perception domain had its limits. One was in terms of distance; a radius of twenty-two kilometers was already a perception range that would astound even a Gold Knight. Any farther, and the comparison and completion of information would become relatively difficult. The other was that Victor’s modes of perception generally fell into one broad category, not involving psychic premonitions, elemental perception, or the senses of other races and insects.

The retinue and vassals Victor selected compensated for both these shortcomings. With the vanguard and flank squads operating twenty kilometers from Victor, they could extend the reconnaissance range by at least ten kilometers, creating a thirty-kilometer danger-warning perimeter. The moment an outer squad sensed danger, an alchemical crow would fly over to lock onto the target, and Victor, through his telepathic link with the Dragonkin handmaidens, would be instantly aware of the anomaly.

With such a vast perception range and such a rich variety of senses, almost no enemy could threaten the safety of the Randell Expeditionary Force.

The men Victor had chosen were the elite of the elite. Large groups of enemies could not catch them, and any powerful foe that could catch them would have to face the Raging Wind Sword Saint, a Gold-rank Dragonkin, Imoson the Wizard’s Giant Aberration, and the quasi-Radiant War God, Caligula. If an enemy insisted on chasing an outer squad, His Highness Randell wouldn’t mind killing it offhandedly.

Aside from mindless, bloodthirsty Biological Aberrations, no monster would dare to challenge a team led by a Sun Elf on its own.

Perception methods evolved from the Law of Reality were inevitably constrained by the environment. Victor’s team would be fine in open terrain, but once they entered a densely vegetated forest, the alchemical crows flying overhead would be rendered basically useless, and the team’s perception range and efficiency would be drastically compressed.

That was why Victor had to bring Imoson the Wizard. Not only could he control the creatures of the forest, but he could also possess his puppets to temporarily gain the senses of a Biological Aberration and scout the enemy from a great distance.

Imoson’s wizardry compensated for the team’s deficiencies, but he could only scout a single target at a time. In a sense, the best form of perception was actually the elemental perception of a High-ranked Knight. It stemmed from the Law of Chaos in the Elemental Sea and was not restricted by any environment or terrain.

Victor had originally intended to requisition a High-ranked Knight for the journey. After much thought, he concluded that only Trisley was suitable. But if Trisley knew about this, Sylvia would certainly know as well, and that would mean big trouble for Victor.

The secrets he had to keep would all be exposed: the true purpose of the mountain stronghold he had built in secret was to counter the York family; he was hoarding Mithril, Thorium, and Saron Demon Iron; even the secret of Imoson, his daughter, and the Alchemy Tower would be revealed. Yet, compared to the spousal relationship between a Raging Wind Sword Saint and a Spirit Knight, these were all minor issues. Sylvia would definitely be angry, but she would eventually be happy. Then, she would take Beldina away from Victor and place her under her own control.

In other words, Sylvia would never allow Victor to go on a risky adventure in the Endless Forest. And even if he were to go, it would only be after annihilating the main force of the Ant-man army to minimize the risk, only then could she be at ease.

If Victor insisted on going, Sylvia would insist on going with him to ensure her lover’s safety. If both Highnesses left at the same time, the Centaur Hills and the Gambis Kingdom would surely fall into chaos.

And that wasn’t even the worst of it.

A Spirit Knight was tantamount to an avatar of the Elemental Sea. Her appearance would likely provoke the King of the Spirit Realm, whose state was unknown, and trigger a chain of events. Hypothetically, if Sylvia were to slay the Ancient God on behalf of the Creator’s will, she herself would likely not be spared.

Just as Sylvia knew her lover was a Sanctuary-rank expert but was unwilling to let him risk his life in the Endless Forest, Victor likewise did not want Sylvia to face a life-or-death choice. He felt a strong protective sentiment for his wife, even if she was a Spirit Knight.

The Mind’s Dominator is the sovereign of one’s own destiny, and Sylvia was included within that. Reversing her fate of premature assimilation by the Elemental Sea was the highest challenge Victor had set for himself. Success was not guaranteed, but it was the source of his strength to press forward.

The Alchemy Tower and the Ant-men were troubles Victor had brought upon himself. If Sylvia were to intervene prematurely and detonate the torrential fate of the Alchemical Empire’s revival, it would do neither her nor Victor any good.

He would solve his own problems. Victor had prepared for a full twelve years for this and would not change his decision because of Sylvia. After weighing the options again and again, he still believed that slipping away from home without his beloved wife’s knowledge was the more appropriate course of action.

Having equipped his personnel from the perspective of perception to solve the team’s most basic survival issues, Victor began to consider the team’s potential for self-sustainment and development.

The three outer squads would be responsible for sentry duty, reconnaissance, and search missions, emphasizing mobility and flexibility. Their numbers didn’t need to be large, but they had to be elite and formidable. Their operational range would be quite large, so they could also handle the duty of gathering resources. But the Sourceblood Warriors, with only one of their four skill slots loaded with a Gathering skill, basically didn’t know how to process materials. The main force, however, would be in a relatively stable situation and could take on the heavy burden of logistics, including resource storage, equipment repair and fabrication, troop rest and rotation, and medical care for the wounded.

Victor planned to draw thirty Alchemical militia with Forging or Construction skills from the mercenary legion and The Swamp Scouts to serve as accompanying craftsmen. In addition, he would select several sword-wielding handmaidens from Quicksilver Manor to act as medical assistants for Father Dayn, while also taking care of the daily needs of Imoson and his daughter.

The most critical figure was undoubtedly Imoson the Wizard. If his abilities were put to good use, he could endlessly produce cannon fodder, allowing for more flexible and diverse tactics while effectively reducing the team’s casualties.

Victor had another astonishing idea. On the unnamed Great Plains to the west of the marsh, there were numerous beastmen tribes. They understood the cyclical habits of the Ant-men, but the next Ant-man tide would be different from any before. Rather than let the beastmen of the plains become food for the Ant-men, it would be better to support a beastman faction. It would be ideal if they could fight back against the Ant-man tide and buy time for the human kingdoms. At the very least, they should learn to organize scattered tribes to evade the impending disaster, leaving the massive Ant-man army with no flesh to eat.

As long as Imoson was given time and military support, he could develop a powerful legion of other races!

If the operation in the Endless Forest did not succeed, this was Victor’s backup plan.

Chapter 742: A Series of Shocks Along the Way

Tao De leaned one hand against a straight, thick tree trunk. It was a Hemlock, a very common tree species in the Larkspur Mountains. The lumberjack guilds of the Centaur Hills harvest this dense, high-quality wood on the outskirts of the forest. Hemlocks like this one, a full thirty meters tall with a trunk that required a person to wrap their arms around it, were already rare. But deep within the Larkspur Mountains, towering Hemlocks were everywhere.

This was the sparsely populated depths of the Larkspur Mountains. It was close to midnight, and thick clouds obscured the silver moon. In the dim light, varying shades of darkness sketched out the shadowy shapes of the mountain forest. The jarring hoots of a Night Owl twisted and drifted on the biting night wind, sometimes there, sometimes not, sometimes near, sometimes far, like the singing of a ghost.

Tao De believed that undead and ghosts existed in this world, but he wasn’t the least bit afraid. As a Knight, one should revere great power, and the undead were so weak as to be almost illusory, unable to exist for long in the world, like a candle flame in a gale, ready to be extinguished at any moment. At this moment, however, his heart was pounding with a mix of excitement and unease. The rough texture of the Hemlock’s bark against his palm assured him that he was in a real environment, not dreaming.

Earlier, My Lady Charlotte had found Tao De. She brought an order from the lord, requiring him to go to the family’s secret fortress deep in the Larkspur Mountains for an audience with his Master. The Master’s confidant and guard, Reno, had confirmed this to Tao De.

Quicksilver answered only to His Highness Randell. Although Charlotte was the Highness’s sworn female knight and lover, she still could not give orders to Tao De. Reno, however, could. To be precise, all of Quicksilver’s secret art death commandos knew Reno and Shak, who were always by the Highness’s side, and obeyed their commands. Clearly, Reno was also a secret art death commando, and he held a higher status among Randell’s secret art death commandos, acting as the Chief Courier.

His Highness Randell’s secret art death commandos were all powerful, fearless, and absolutely loyal soldiers. Tao De had been the chief of Quicksilver for several years, yet he had no idea how these secret art death commandos were trained.

Recently, My lord Earl had been cultivating Mind Warriors who could rival Bronze Knights, and Tao De had the honor of participating. He marveled at the wonders of the Mind Bloodline secret art and could roughly guess the family’s methods for training secret art death commandos, which made him revere his Master even more.

When Charlotte came to find him, she explained beforehand that the Master had a particularly dangerous mission that required gathering vassals to assist. Tao De had the right to refuse, but once he joined, he could absolutely not go back on his word.

Tao De didn’t hesitate for a moment. He immediately declared to My Lady Charlotte his willingness to die for his Master. Although the sworn female knight did not reveal the details of the mission, she left behind a sigil token of trust—with this token, he could travel to the family’s secret fortress built in the Larkspur Mountains.

Tao De was ecstatic. He knew full well that this token represented the Sword Saint’s trust, and that he had now stepped into the inner circle of House of Randell. This meant that power, wealth, and status that were beyond the reach of ordinary Knights were now all within his grasp. But most importantly, he would have the chance to become a true Extraordinary powerhouse.

As it turned out, His Highness Randell did possess such extraordinary might. Tao De had witnessed the miracles created by the Highness many times.

“Roel, how much longer do we have to wait for the escort to arrive?” Tao De asked his Personal Guard in a low voice, leaning back against the tree trunk, inhaling the cold, damp air, and then slowly exhaling.

The Lithe Ape militiaman, Roel, held an Oilwood torch that was shrouded in the cold mist, illuminating an area of less than two meters. Tao De said, not without worry, “It’s so dark. Are you sure they can find us? If we delay the Master’s business, we’ll have a hard time explaining ourselves.”

“Don’t worry, my lord. The patrol from the mountain stronghold will definitely find us… perhaps they aren’t human.” Roel said vaguely. He had been working by Tao De’s side for nearly eight years and knew how to answer.

Tao De was silent for a moment, then couldn’t help but ask, “Roel, you should know the way… I mean, have you been to the mountain stronghold before?”

Roel squeezed out a harmless smile. Waving the torch in his hand, he said, “My lord, I am not authorized to answer that question… You will see the Master shortly.”

Tao De looked embarrassed, coughed, and changed the subject. “I noticed that Lord Reno is a couple of inches shorter than before, and his body doesn’t look as stocky as it used to. But his eyes are clear and bright, and the proportions of his muscles and bones are very harmonious. I’m certain he’s now an exceptionally powerful initial-rank Mind Warrior, with strength close to that of a senior knight. Even I might not be his match… Roel, you should also have a chance to become as powerful as Lord Reno. If there’s anything I can do to help you, just let me know…”

The Alchemical militia just smiled and didn’t take up the topic. Tao De was already used to Roel’s cold reticence and said no more. But he had just been sincere in wanting to help his partner fight for a chance to be promoted to a Mind Warrior.

The Elite Guards of House of Randell were clearly not normal people. But if Roel could be promoted to a Mind Warrior, His Highness Randell would surely place great importance on him, and perhaps he would no longer have to serve as a sacrifice.

Tao De was a cold person, but having witnessed many Elite Guards sacrifice their lives to protect him, he couldn’t help but be moved. He still felt a sense of camaraderie for Roel, who had risked life and limb for him multiple times.

At the same time, he also knew very well that Roel would not accept this sentiment. The emotions and desires of the Elite Guards were very faint. They had almost no curiosity. Apart from their loyalty to His Highness Randell, they cared about nothing.

The conviction upheld by Knights was that only the family’s justice was true justice. Tao De had always demanded this of himself; he felt not the slightest guilt for brutalizing slave laborers or silencing people by killing them. It was said that extraordinary beings lacked the emotions of ordinary people, but Tao De was not an Extraordinary Knight, after all. Watching his Elite Guard companions sacrifice themselves one by one, he couldn’t help but feel a kinship of sorrow, and thus feared the very His Highness Randell he served.

Tao De did not dare to question his noble and extraordinary Master. He guessed that House of Randell must have a mysterious Wizard who could twist human souls to create powerful and loyal Elite Guards.

That person was definitely an evil scoundrel!

The Master secretly kept an evil Wizard, using his abilities in the shadows to train family death commandos… Tao De automatically ignored this point. When His Highness Randell began the Deduction of the Mind Bloodline secret art and started cultivating Mind Warriors, he was happier than anyone. He believed his Master to be a benevolent, wise, and great sovereign, one who could actually improve upon wicked Wizardry to benefit the ordinary soldiers of the family.

The Master pitied common people, so of course he would also pity a fiercely loyal apprentice knight. The Master could grant ordinary people extraordinary power, so of course he could also reshape his future.

The only thing Tao De could offer his Master in return was his own loyalty. He was absolutely convinced of this, a belief that was almost a devout faith.

A powerful, vigorous wolf howl shattered the silence of the mountain forest. Tao De’s hand shot to the hilt of his Adamantine longsword, only to find Roel completely unguarded, looking relaxed. As if in sudden understanding, he released his grip, stood down from his combat stance, and asked tentatively, “The dire wolves that guard the family’s secret fortress?”

The Alchemical militia was supposed to keep the secret of the Alchemical Warhounds, but the Master had summoned Tao De to the mountain stronghold and sent the Alchemical Warhounds to escort him. Knight Tao De would find out for sure. The Lithe Ape militiaman Roel made his own judgment call, nodded, and said simply, “Yes.”

Titled nobles generally reared warhounds, and among them, a certain proportion would undergo a Savage state transformation. Savage warhounds were, in fact, dire wolves; their physical forms became identical.

It wasn’t strange at all for House of Randell to have dire wolves. But the crippled old spies retiring at Quicksilver Manor had specifically spoken of rumors about the dire wolves: that the family had a dire wolf team that secretly followed Quicksilver’s spies. If a Quicksilver spy was in danger, they only needed to flee into the dense forests of the wilderness to receive cover from the dire wolf pack.

Everyone said so, but no one had ever personally seen a pack of Randall’s dire wolves.

For a powerful lord, having ten or so dire wolves was something worth boasting about. Family-reared dire wolves generally guarded important sites like secret fortresses and rarely went out. The claim that House of Randell had packs of dire wolves was a bit too much of an exaggeration.

Tao De was also skeptical at first, until he was plotting the assassination of Raymond Peter in the Kingdom of Faeath. During his escape into the Twilight Forest, several dire wolves happened to attack the scouting party that was trying to hunt him down.

Randall’s dire wolves were also the Master’s secret, so Tao De didn’t dare to press for more information, but the matter had remained on his mind.

The shadows of the bushes billowed and swayed. A rustling sound drew closer from a distance. Four gleaming green wolf eyes paused at the bottom of the slope, first scrutinizing Tao De and Roel, then swiftly floating up through the darkness.

Two huge, powerfully built wolves materialized in the light of the torch. They were nearly two meters long, with shoulders that reached a normal person’s chest. Their four limbs were as thick as a grown man’s arms, their blue-black fur was glossy and smooth, and two dagger-like, snow-white fangs protruded from their muzzles. Their green-glowing eyes, however, were full of intelligence.

They met Roel’s gaze for a second, then flattened their ears and began to wag their tails.

“So these are Randall’s dire wolves?” Tao De watched Guard Roel stroke the massive wolf heads, his eyes green with envy. Out of caution, he didn’t make any sudden moves, but said with a hint of excitement, “Judging by their size, they’re warhounds in a Deeply Savaged State. They might even have the Bloodlust talent.”

“My lord, you know the rules of the Elite Guards.” Roel raised his torch, shook his head, and said, “They will lead the way for us.”

Tao De followed behind the dire wolves and Roel, chattering incessantly, “Hey, my friend, what else is there to hide? I saw it myself in the Twilight Forest, Randall’s dire wolves using their Bloodlust talent. These two big guys are so friendly to you, you must all be from the secret fortress in the Larkspur Mountains… And you still need them to lead the way? You obviously know the path.”

“…Hey, I’m asking, how many of these incredible dire wolves does the family have?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t be so stingy. I’m about to enter the secret fortress. We’ll all be on the same side then.”

“My lord, I’ve never been one to have my own ideas. Only what the Master says counts,” Roel said indifferently.

“Haha, of course…” Tao De gave a dry laugh and changed the subject. “To be honest, dire wolves like these are even stronger than you.”

“To be honest, I’m a bit stronger,” the Lithe Ape militiaman corrected Tao De’s mistaken view. “They eat too much, and only meat. They’re not easy to raise.”

“Er, you have a point.” Tao De looked at the dire wolves, which were as large as calves. The more he looked, the more he liked them, and he couldn’t help but argue, “You’re not as strong as them, nor as fast. If I encountered five such dire wolves bare-handed, I might not even survive.”

“But we can climb trees.”

Tao De was speechless for a moment. After a while, he said rather proudly, “Alright, we can climb trees. But what I’m trying to say is, if we have a pack of Randall’s warhounds in a Deeply Savaged State, plus more than a hundred Elite Guards like you, the Master’s mission won’t be very dangerous for us at all.”

He thought he had glimpsed the true strength of House of Randell and was a hundred times more confident about the upcoming mission, chattering nonstop to Roel the whole way.

Walking through the outer pass of the mountain stronghold and seeing the magnificent castle perched on the mountaintop, Tao De couldn’t help but stop in his tracks. He murmured, “A fortress built deep in the mountains… I knew it. The Master inherited the true resources and heritage of the Wimbledon family.”

A deep, muffled roar startled Tao De from his reverie. He whipped his head around, his grayish-green pupils contracting in an instant. His face drained of color as he said in horror, “What is that?! Eighteen Silver-rank Marsh Dragon-Lizards… Aren’t they a bit too big?”

Chapter 743: The New Round Table Meeting

Marsh Dragon-Lizards had no wisdom, nor any active talents like Bloodlust or a berserk state. They fully capitalized on the physical advantages of a dragon-blood species; their strength and speed were formidable, allowing them to contend head-on with an Ogre chief in a berserk state without losing ground. Their thick hides were comparable to heavy armor, and when combined with Extraordinary Regeneration and Elemental Resistance, the nigh-invulnerable Dragon-Lizards with their Life Tenacity were enough to make most enemies give them a wide berth.

Monsterology classified the Marsh Dragon-Lizard as a Silver-rank lord-class creature, and one of the most elite at that. They possessed the arrogant nature of a dragon-blood species, preferring a solitary existence, refusing to submit to the Hydra Lizard, the overlord of the Great Marsh, and were certainly not creatures that could be tamed by humans.

In truth, the Dragon-Lizards created by the Alchemy Tower were not combat units in the true sense of the word. They lacked the wild intuition and voracious killing desire of ferocious beasts. However, the Alchemical Dragon-Lizards were exceptionally large, weighing nearly 1300 kilograms.

The average weight of a wild adult Dragon-Lizard was 800 kilograms. Only a few elderly individuals could grow three hearts and exceed one ton in weight; they could truly be called a dragon-blood species that grew stronger with age. The Alchemical Dragon-Lizards were based on this very template. Relying on their formidable physique and regenerative talent, they barely touched the edge of being a Silver-rank beast, but their actual combat prowess was inferior to that of an ordinary Marsh Dragon-Lizard.

The mountain stronghold had gathered over one hundred third-level Source-Blood Militia and over one hundred Alchemical militia, in addition to more than thirty Alchemical Warhounds and over fifty Bear-Dogs. These were the main fighting force of the expedition. But they were dispersed in the valley encampments on either side of the castle. Tao De did not see how many people were inside the secret fortress; his attention was completely captivated by the fifteen “Giant Marsh Dragon-Lizards.”

A single Silver Knight would find it difficult to deal with one Marsh Dragon-Lizard, though it was normally possible to kill it. But here were a full fifteen Marsh Dragon-Lizards—creatures said to be untamable—gathered in one place. If fifteen Silver Knights were to witness such a shocking scene, their best course of action would be to take a detour.

Fifteen Marsh Dragon-Lizards were far more intimidating than fifteen Silver Knights.

Most importantly, what kind of person could make fifteen lord-class beasts lie on the ground, docilely arranged in two rows?

This also meant that the House of Randell had captured fifteen Marsh Dragon-Lizards in the Great Marsh and could tame even more in the future.

Tao De instinctively circulated his Aura and adjusted his vision, trying to find the beast tamer of the Marsh Dragon-Lizards. Then he noticed a person sitting on the neck of one of them, causing that Dragon-Lizard to emit a low hiss.

Just as Tao De focused his gaze, the person suddenly looked up, meeting his eyes first. From a distance of over one hundred meters, Tao De’s gaze met that steel-awl-like stare. He immediately felt his eyes being squeezed by an invisible force. A chill ran through his heart, and his left thumb naturally came to rest on the guard of his sword. The next moment, the tangible pressure in the other’s eyes vanished, and the tension in Tao De’s spirit eased. He couldn’t help but be inwardly terrified: that person could arouse and dismantle his will to fight with just a look?

If that person were an enemy, Tao De had no doubt he would be powerless to even retaliate.

“You must be the chief of Quicksilver, Ghostface Knight Tao De?” the man called out from a distance as he jumped down from the Marsh Dragon-Lizard’s neck. “I am Lord Narsen Randall.”

Narsen’s stride was steady, seeming slow but covering ground quickly. He walked right up to Tao De, who hastily performed a Knight’s salute and said respectfully, “My lord, I am Ghostface Tao De.”

The Bear of the Northlands was a renowned figure, hailed as the kingdom’s number one Ferocious warrior. He was also His Highness Randell’s number one confidant, commander of the family guard and six thousand mercenary soldiers. Tao De had gained a deep understanding of Narsen’s strength and status from the old spy Barol, but the lord himself was even more powerful than he had imagined.

However, Narsen was certainly not the one who had tamed the Marsh Dragon-Lizards. He had been sitting on the lizard’s neck, and the creature had seemed quite displeased.

A Silver-rank ferocious beast was unhappy, yet it didn’t try to tear Lord Narsen apart… could a Marsh Dragon-Lizard really have such a good temper?

At that moment, Tao De quietly added a mysterious beast tamer to his mental list of family members he had to look up to, ranking them even higher than Lord Narsen.

Narsen’s mind was pure, not filled with too many complex thoughts. The fact that the Ghostface Knight could react with timely vigilance under his gaze was enough. With that will to fight alone, this senior apprentice knight who had ignited the fire of the mind earned the Bear of the Northlands’ approval.

Narsen clapped Tao De on the shoulder and said with praise, “You’re quite good… Let’s head into the castle. Everyone’s waiting for you.”

Tao De fell in half a step behind Narsen and asked cautiously, “My lord, you came to meet me personally? I apologize… I’m late.”

Narsen laughed heartily and said with a hint of pride, “I wanted to take a Dragon-Lizard for a spin and used meeting you as an excuse… Unfortunately, those big guys don’t listen to me at all. I hadn’t even ridden out yet, and you arrived right on schedule.”

The Bear of the Northlands made no secret of his little scheme, showing warmth to the Quicksilver chief in their first formal meeting and revealing a great deal of information in the process.

All those who answered His Highness Randell’s call and accepted dangerous missions were regarded as companions by Lord Narsen. Tao De was secretly delighted. He adhered to his style of observing much and speaking little, remaining silent as he followed Narsen into the large castle at the peak of the hill.

They went directly to the second floor and entered the military command hall at the end of the corridor. The room was brightly lit by candles. In the center of the hall was a round table, around which sat five people—four men and one woman. Seeing Narsen and Tao De enter, they all rose to their feet in greeting.

Narsen turned to one side, gestured to Tao De, and introduced him to the others. “This is our Master’s secret knight, Ghostface Tao De.”

Quicksilver reported directly to His Highness Randell. Narsen was aware of the things Tao De had done for the family, but he wasn’t one to show off his well-informed status, so he simply stated Tao De’s codename.

The five people in the hall were all meeting Tao De for the first time. Their gazes were scrutinizing and suspicious, their postures cool and distant. Only one woman, tall and beautifully built with fair skin, greeted him warmly. “Hey, handsome knight, you can sit here.”

As she spoke, she patted the chair beside her.

This was also Tao De’s first time participating in a formal family meeting. As the head of the House of Randell’s spies, he recognized everyone here.

His Highness’s attendant knights, Brandon and Klaus, both just eighteen years old this year, were naturally awakened senior apprentice knights with the potential to advance to Extraordinary Knight. Then there were Rogers and Red Wolf, Ferocious warriors of the House of Randell; one hailed from mountain folk hunters and was a rising star in the War Bear Mercenaries faction, while the other was a master thief once adopted by Barol who had served as a spy in Quicksilver for a time, though he no longer had any connection to them.

The well-built, stunningly beautiful woman was named Macy. She was a Ferocious female warrior who had ignited the fire of the mind. It was said that she had once single-handedly strangled a Silver-rank Dire Centaur to death on the battlefields of the Sasan Empire, earning her the title “Blood Python.” Moreover, before joining the House of Randell, she had been the leader of a refugee band with dozens of lives on her hands—a very ruthless woman.

Quicksilver’s intelligence indicated that among the House of Randell’s Ferocious warriors, Macy’s strength was second only to Narsen’s, and she might have already reached the initial-rank of Silver.

From now on, these people would be Tao De’s companions on his missions. It was necessary for him to integrate into this small group. After a moment’s thought, he put on an elegant smile, nodded, and took the seat next to Macy.

“Tao De… why is your codename ‘Ghostface’?” Macy asked in a low voice, a hint of curiosity on her face.

“My face was once disfigured. It was the Master who helped me restore my appearance,” Tao De replied politely.

Macy’s eyes lit up. She scooted her chair closer to Tao De’s and said, “Is that so? A while ago, I lost an eye, and it was the Master who had a high-ranking clergy member restore it for me. Can you tell?”

Even through the air, Tao De could feel the heat radiating from “Blood Python.” His intuition told him that if he continued this conversation with Macy, she would be proposing marriage to him within three days.

Just as Tao De was feeling deeply conflicted, Narsen’s penetrating voice echoed through the hall. “Huh? Where’s Aka? Aka… what are you doing hiding in the corner?”

Everyone turned their heads at once, only then noticing another person in the corner of the hall. Even curled into a ball, he was more robust than an ordinary person.

How had none of them noticed him?!

Tao De was utterly astonished. For “Giant” Caligula to be able to hide himself in plain sight, his ability was likely approaching the legendary realm.

Aka had one hand covering his mouth and was waving his other hand frantically, looking nervous and furtive.

Tao De and the others were baffled. Suddenly, an invisible pressure filled the entire great hall, feeling as if their hearts were being squeezed by a hand, ready to stop at any moment.

Accompanied by the clack-clack of high heels on the floor, the pressure grew more and more intense. All except Caligula, who remained huddled in the corner, stood up, their expressions grave as they faced the entrance to the hall.

The black-haired, gold-eyed His Highness Randell and My Lady Charlotte entered the room. He held the hand of a chubby little girl, and a man completely shrouded in a black robe followed behind him. Tao De and the others, however, fixed their gazes on the four ladies who entered last.

They were tall and slender, their figures so exquisitely beautiful they could be described as soul-stirring. But they all had pairs of forward-curving, pure white horns on their heads, revealing at a glance that they were not purely human.

His Highness Randell was not purely human either. He was currently a half-elf and would one day become a monarch of the Elves—a lofty Sun Elf.

No one dared to mention this to His Highness Randell’s face. Besides, the impression the Raging Wind Sword Saint gave was one of a gentle and elegant type. But the four ladies following him brought a sense of terror; the might they emanated was strikingly similar to the legendary Dragon’s Might.

…Dragons?

The Master has four female dragons under his command?!

“Rein it in. These people are our companions. They are the ones you are meant to protect.”

As His Highness Randell’s pleasant voice sounded, the oppressive fear in the room instantly vanished. Tao De let out a sharp breath, catching a glimpse of beads of sweat forming on “Blood Python” Macy’s fair, full forehead. The Ferocious female warrior with her sharp intuition had just endured a pressure several times greater than his own.

A red-haired, red-eyed woman scanned the room, pointed at the fawning Caligula in the corner, and said, “My King, this human is very strong. And this one…” She then pointed to Lord Narsen and asked in a clear voice, “Do they need protection as well?”

The family knights and Ferocious warriors all craned their necks, their mouths agape like dazed geese. Victor had a headache. He had told the Dragonkin handmaidens to protect these people, but Laila had interpreted protection as a measure of status. In Victor’s heart, however, the Dragonkin handmaidens had the lowest status. If they believed their status was higher than the others’, the coming operation was bound to run into trouble.

The female Dragonoids had only recently been “born.” Like infants, their instincts overrode everything else. It would take some more training before they could understand reason.

Victor chose to ignore Laila’s question. He led Beldina to a seat at the round table and motioned for Charlotte and Imosen to sit as well. Aka trotted over eagerly and also found a chair, sitting down beside Beldina.

“This is The Round Table, a traditional meeting format for the House of Randell. It has been a long time since I last presided over a round table meeting myself…”

Victor tapped the table and continued, “Today, many family members have lost their right to sit at The Round Table. Of the first group to attend, only Lord Narsen remains here… All of you, you have answered my call, willing to follow me and carry out dangerous missions. Therefore, I grant you the right to participate in the round table meeting. As of now, the new members of The Round Table include Lord Narsen, My Lady Nicole, Caligula, My Lady Lilia, My Lady Charlotte, Lady Macy, Knight Brandon, Knight Klaus, Knight Tao De, Rogers, and Red Wolf.”

“In addition, let me introduce two more members of The Round Table: Beldina Randall and Imosen Randall.”

“This new generation of the Randell round table has a total of thirteen seats, and thirteen members.”

Chapter 744: Arrangements for the Exercise

Caught off guard by the sound of his master mentioning his name, Imosen choked on his saliva and coughed repeatedly. He was dressed in a black robe with a mask, his boots specially padded to make him seem taller. Before coming, he had even requested his master to use a false name for him, terrified of being recognized as the master of the hunt for the Randall Fief.

The Wizard had hoped that once the Ant-man plague was resolved, he could return to his former life of ease. One could only say he was being too naive.

The life of an extraordinary being was destined to be different from that of an ordinary person. Even if Imosen managed to return from the Endless Forest, his identity as a Wizard would be exposed. Sylvia and Victor would never allow a Legendary Wizard to resign himself to a life of mediocrity; they would undoubtedly have further plans for him.

All of this, of course, was predicated on him returning safely.

The mission to the distant, savage jungle to raid the ant nest was incredibly dangerous. Apart from Victor and Caligula, no one else possessed the strength to guarantee their own survival. Imosen’s Wizardry was powerful, but his mentality was weak, and his physical constitution and combat skills were inferior to those of a common Mystic Warrior. He could only significantly increase his chances of survival by relying on the strength of his companions.

A team spirit of unity, mutual aid, and cooperation had to be built on a foundation of mutual understanding and trust. Imosen’s furtive, evasive behavior was more likely to cause trouble.

Besides, there wasn’t a single ordinary person in this room. Did Imosen really think a loose black robe and a few layers of sheepskin in his shoes could deceive everyone’s eyes? In reality, everyone present had recognized the master of the hunt.

However, no one had the time to pay him any mind. They even seemed distracted when Victor proposed the list of members for the round table meeting.

The Dragonkin handmaidens regarded everyone present as companions, so the spiritual pressure of their Dragon’s Might had automatically lifted. The curiosity that followed the initial shock was particularly intense, and everyone was observing the beautiful and exotic Dragonoids in their own way.

Victor had restarted the round table meeting to bring those present into the family’s core circle of power, which meant a greater share of wealth, status, and resources would be directed toward them. This was also to show that His Highness Randell would not casually sacrifice his followers, allowing everyone to focus on the upcoming raid.

This should have been joyous news for the attendees, yet no one responded to His Highness Randell’s trust and favor?

An awkward silence fell over the great hall.

A High-ranked Knight’s chaotic spiritual power could be freely projected to express their will, such as by making everyone focus. Victor’s Light of the Mind, on the other hand, manifested directly as charisma. His divine beauty might hold an unparalleled attraction for the Elves, but in this situation, even glaring was useless.

Victor secretly used his mental link to order the Dragonkin handmaidens to go to the Treasury and hibernate, lest they stand there distracting everyone and hindering the meeting.

Laila, Dili, and the other two Dragonkin handmaidens suddenly raised their jade hands to cover their red lips, letting out a series of yawns. Their expressions grew languid, and without a word of departure, they walked straight out of the military command hall.

It was only when the sound of their footsteps faded on the castle’s second floor that the meeting participants snapped back to their senses. They all had questions but didn’t dare to ask, simply sitting there and staring at each other.

Narsen, being the closest to Victor, had fewer reservations. He was the first to speak up. “My lord, they are…”

A mysterious, inscrutable smile touched Victor’s lips. His gaze swept across the room, finally landing on Imosen. “Imosen, the master of the hunt for House of Randell. Everyone knows him. I will now formally introduce his other identity: a Wizard who has sworn fealty to me. The Giant Aberration, the two-headed dragon Itugos, that once terrorized the Great Marsh was a servant of his creation.”

A chorus of sharp inhales sounded around the round table. Everyone’s eyes were now filled with awe as they looked at Imosen.

Most of the people here had never seen the Two-headed evil dragon Itugos, but the heroic tales of the Queen of Roses’ Dragon-slaying had long spread throughout the upper echelons of society. The taxidermied heads of Itugos still hung outside the gates of Black Fortress for all to admire the Queen’s glory.

One could only imagine the might of that Giant Aberration from the sight of those two terrifying and ferocious dragon heads.

If Itugos had cemented the Queen of Roses’ glory, didn’t that mean Imoson the Wizard had once crossed paths with Lady Sylvia?

Were the Marsh Dragon-Lizards and dire wolves in the secret fortress of the mountain stronghold, as well as the Elite Guards of the House of Randell, all the masterworks of Imoson the Wizard?

And those four peerless beauties with horns, who appeared to be some kind of Dragonkin—were they also this Wizard’s creations?

What a powerful and malevolent Wizard. Thank goodness I refused to marry him… He won’t try to get revenge on me, will he? The Master has already subdued him, so I should be fine.

As their minds raced with wild thoughts, Victor gauged their current mentality from their changing expressions. He said solemnly, “Imosen is an important member of the family. His identity must not be revealed to outsiders.”

Their hearts grew solemn, and the attendees replied in unison, “As you wish, Honored Master.”

Imosen, who had just been sitting there minding his own business, suddenly had a wave of blame he didn’t deserve descend upon him, leaving him dizzy and confused.

Victor had no intention of explaining on his behalf and continued, “Beldina, you all know her as well. His Holiness the Pontiff personally presided over her body reconstruction baptismal rite, and Father Miller treats her like a granddaughter… I will not speak of what makes Bel special, and you are not to ask. She is just a young handmaiden from Silver Moon Manor.”

Bel, favored by the Pontiff… Could she be a born God-favored?

The Master has summoned both the family Wizard and the God-favored. Something big must be happening!

“Yes.”

The crowd’s gaze toward Imosen was a mixture of awe and a barely perceptible trace of aversion, but their eyes were full of affection when they looked at Beldina. The chubby Bel sat on her chair, dangling her short legs with a bewildered look on her face. She blinked her clear, pure eyes and turned to start fidgeting with Aka.

There was no need to heed the opinions of those two. Victor gave a slight nod to Charlotte. The blonde, blue-eyed female knight smiled gently, stood up, and said, “The Master has summoned everyone to the mountain stronghold this time mainly to inform you about the Ant-men. According to the intelligence we have gathered, the three fortresses west of the Centaur Hills may not be able to stop the Ant-man tide from invading…”

Following Victor’s instructions, she explained the carefully selected and modified situation to the group.

When the sworn female knight finished her account, the faces of all the listeners, except for the carefree Caligula and Bel, showed expressions of apprehension and fear. Their expectant gazes converged on Victor.

“Everyone, the family’s fief is right here. There is no retreat, no escape,” Victor said calmly. “War is inevitable. Before it breaks out, the family must first ascertain the true state of the enemy. I have decided to personally venture into the Endless Forest to scout the ant nest. If the opportunity arises, I will kill the Ant-man queen and eliminate this disaster.”

He rose to his feet and declared in a deep voice, “A liege lord cannot order his vassal to undertake a suicidal mission, and a vassal cannot stand by and watch his liege lord face the enemy alone. You will all accompany me to the Endless Forest to raid the Ant-man lair. I have also brought out the family’s most formidable forces: Dragon-Lizards, Savage warhounds, Mind Warriors, Secret Art Guards, and four combat handmaidens who have awakened their dragon blood. Each of them is at the Gold rank, and their actual combat prowess even surpasses that of a Gold Knight.”

“Imoson the Wizard and Beldina will also be accompanying us.” Victor glanced at the Wizard beside him and said, “No one should doubt his power… You will come to know what he is capable of.”

“We are willing to die for you, my lord!” Narsen led the way as the family Knights and Ferocious warriors rose, saluted, and shouted in unison.

“My lord, when do we depart? I believe the sooner we leave, the better. The Ant-men need time to prepare, and so does the family. If we go early, we can catch the Ant-man monsters off guard and relay accurate intelligence back to the family as soon as possible.” Narsen offered his counsel, and Tao De and the others nodded in agreement.

Victor tapped the table, signaling his followers to sit down. After a moment of thought, he suddenly asked, “Narsen, how large is the family’s fief?”

“Huh?” The Master’s question left Narsen bewildered. He thought for a moment and replied, “Including the Raven Town Enclave, the House of Randell controls thirteen thousand six hundred square kilometers of territory.”

“And this mountain region, four thousand square kilometers.” Victor paused, then added, “Plus the twenty thousand square kilometers of the Great Marsh, the Earldom of Randell actually controls thirty-four thousand square kilometers of territory.”

“My lord, the twenty thousand square kilometers of marsh is also our territory?” Narsen asked in disbelief.

“Is the produce from the Earldom of Randell alone enough to recruit a mercenary army of several thousand and shelter over a hundred thousand mountain folk?”

Victor posed a counter-question first, his reserved smile tinged with pride. “I have been selling resources from the mountains and the swamp through the Black Markets in Wildwillow City and Pine Forest Town. And these resources were gathered in the Lizard Marsh by a large number of Goblin slaves that Imosen brought under control at my command.”

Due to the difficulty of gathering swamp resources and their wide range of uses—for instance, several ingredients in the Church’s Dragon’s Vein Potion formula came from the swamp—the market price for these resources had always remained stubbornly high. Most of the resources gathered by The Swamp Scouts were intercepted and stockpiled by the lords of the Centaur Hills, with a considerable portion used specifically to trade with the Church for quotas for body reconstruction.

Eighty percent of the clam seasoning powder, glazed rock crystal, and common swamp medicinal herbs circulating in the Black Markets of Wildwillow City and Pine Forest Town came from the mountain stronghold; the remaining twenty percent came through the channels of The Swamp Scouts. This was because the total volume of resources gathered by the Goblin slaves was more than ten times that of The Swamp Scouts. Just in terms of top-grade Vine-hide armor made from the hides of six-legged crocodiles and Giant Pythons, the mountain stronghold currently had enough in stock to arm another twelve hundred Swiftbird light cavalry. In addition to this, the Goblin slaves continuously supplied various rare ores, the blood and silk of Shadow Spiders, Thousand-Bend Reed seeds, Capybara dung, and other materials.

If these items were calculated at market price, the Goblin slaves in the twenty-thousand-square-kilometer swamp region generated a fortune of one million Gold Sols for Victor annually.

Victor had accomplished such a monumental task without ever speaking of it to anyone. Announcing it today at the round table meeting filled him with extraordinary pride. Unfortunately, his followers’ reactions were bland; they seemed to be half-asleep.

It was hardly surprising. In less than a day, their minds had been stuffed with a heap of secrets they could never have imagined. Most people would be shocked to the point of numbness.

After all, the family vassals Victor had gathered had narrow horizons and insufficient wisdom. Even with their extraordinary abilities, they lacked the mental willpower and rational thinking of a High-ranked Knight.

Imosen… timid and conflict-averse, he craves a life of ease. At his core, he is a kind and decent person, utterly unambitious.

Caligula and Beldina… these two have limitless potential, especially Bel, who comes with a luck aura and a natural charm. Her soul can also emit different wave frequencies. Unlocking the underlying architecture of Elemental Rune Crystals is just one aspect of her abilities. This unique Wizardry talent should have applications beyond my imagination… But right now, the two of them are a pair of ultimate foodies. Expecting them to marvel at my groundwork is far more difficult than just getting them some delicious food.

Narsen… Hmm, aside from admiring me, he just admires me. He doesn’t need to understand other things, and it would be difficult for him to do so.

Charlotte… an experienced female knight who is just a step away from being a true Silver Knight. But all she wants is my affection and trust. Her independence doesn’t even match Lilia’s; she’s even more clingy than a Dragonkin handmaiden.

Macy… I initially thought she was a power-hungry, ambitious refugee leader. Who knew she’s now desperate to marry herself off. Has she taken a liking to Tao De?

Tao De… not very ambitious, actually. He craves recognition for his efforts and achievements and is willing to do things for me, but he’s ultimately lacking in potential and wisdom.

Brandon and Klaus… they’re only eighteen. As Knight-Nobles, they have just come of age.

Rogers and Red Wolf… one is a simple mountain folk hunter, the other a cautious thief. After all this time under my tutelage, their fundamental natures haven’t changed much.

Victor looked around the room and suddenly felt a sense of dullness. He missed Sylvia terribly at this moment. Only Sylvia could understand his brilliant strategies and offer valuable suggestions to supplement them. In the next second, the beautiful silhouette of Roland Auguste popped into his mind.

I wonder what interesting things that “unreliable” princess is up to now… Victor shook his head, gathered his straying thoughts, and said in a deep voice, “Those Goblin slaves cannot be left alone!”

No matter how much benefit the Goblin slaves brought to the House of Randell, once Victor withdrew the troops from the Swamp Forward Base, they would surely spiral out of control and cause a major disaster. If the Ant-man army reached the western side of the Larkspur Mountains, these Goblins would become their food reserves. If Victor resolved the Ant-man threat, the Goblin population in the swamp would grow to unmanageable levels, in turn enslaving the Half-dragons and Ogres, posing a significant threat to the Swamp Scouts in the Centaur Hills, and preventing the lords from continuing to collect swamp resources.

On the other hand, the current mental state of Tao De and the others was completely unsuitable for an expedition to the ant nest. Eliminating the Goblin tribes would be an excellent military exercise, allowing them to familiarize themselves with each other, coordinate, and boost their combat will and mental state.

Victor had a faint feeling that after this expeditionary raid, these followers present would undergo a transformation of the mind, laying the foundation for them to become powerhouses.

As long as they survived.

“Next, you will rest and recuperate at the mountain stronghold for ten days. Charlotte will provide you with new equipment. Ten days from now marks the beginning of this year’s rainy season. I require you to complete the mission of wiping out the Goblin tribes before the snow season arrives.” Victor paused for a moment before continuing, “I am dispatching one hundred eighty initial-rank Mind Warriors, each with strength comparable to a mid-rank Bronze Knight. Additionally, there will be fifteen Dragon-Lizards, forty savage Warhounds, forty-five veteran Elite Guards, and seventeen sword-wielding handmaidens… Although the Mind Warriors and Elite Guards cultivated by the family through special means are powerful, they lack curiosity and tend to overlook crucial details. The sword-wielding handmaidens trained at Quicksilver Manor are meticulous and can compensate for this deficiency. Moreover, they are all twenty years old this year, well past the age of marriage, and have undergone body reconstruction. Their figures, looks, and martial skills are all outstanding. If you successfully complete your mission and win their hearts, I can bestow the sword-wielding handmaidens upon you as vassal partners.”

Victor had invested resources into cultivating the first batch of sword-wielding handmaidens primarily to accumulate experience for the family in this area; it was experimental in nature, and they had barely played any role. Of course, the main value of the sword-wielding handmaidens was to serve as rewards from the lord to win over core members of the family.

The sword-wielding handmaidens transferred from Quicksilver Manor were all on the older side. Victor felt he should arrange a future for them.

The beauty and martial prowess of the sword-wielding handmaidens far surpassed that of ordinary people, approaching the level of an initial-rank apprentice knight. They were also proficient in household affairs and could assist their masters well, making them excellent handmaidens. Brandon and Klaus, in the bloom of youth, were clearly moved. Needless to say, so were Rogers and Red Wolf. Even the usually deep and thoughtful Tao De’s eyes lit up.

Macy’s eyes darted between Narsen, Tao De, and Imosen. She bit her red lip, raised her hand, and asked, “Master, may I have two sword-wielding handmaidens?”

She wanted the sword-wielding handmaidens as part of her dowry to form the family she desired.

Victor found it amusing but still nodded his approval. “Of course, you are also qualified to choose sword-wielding handmaidens.”

“Sigh, I want some too…”

Beldina’s childish voice chimed in. Victor patted her little head, shook his own, and chuckled. “Darling, by the time you grow up, they’ll all be old. They can’t wait until you’re old enough to marry, so don’t hold them up.”

The crowd couldn’t help but roar with laughter, making Macy blush. Her bashful demeanor was surprisingly charming, a stark contrast to the female butcher known as the “Blood Python.”

After the brief interlude, Victor continued, “Tao De and Macy, you will form a squad with my Dragonkin handmaiden, Mewen. You will lead twenty-five initial-rank Mind Warriors, five Elite Guards, four sword-wielding handmaidens, eight warhounds, and two Dragon-Lizards. Tao De will be the commander, Macy the pathfinder, and the Dragonkin handmaiden the liaison officer.”

“Klaus and Rogers, you will form a squad with the Dragonkin handmaiden Dili, leading a team of the same composition. Klaus will be the commander, Rogers the pathfinder, and Dili the liaison officer.”

“Brandon, Red Wolf, you will form a squad with the Dragonkin handmaiden Fugerui. The team composition is the same. Brandon is the commander, Red Wolf is the pathfinder, and Fugerui is the liaison officer.”

“The remaining Mind Warriors, Elite Guards, and sword-wielding handmaidens will be under Charlotte’s command. Her team also includes Caligula, the Dragonkin handmaiden Laila, Imoson the Wizard, and Beldina… Your three squads will also obey her orders.”

“Does anyone have any questions about these arrangements?” Victor asked, his gaze deep. He seemed to be asking for opinions, but in reality, he would not tolerate any opposition or doubt.

Tao De was a little afraid of being with Macy, but his mind was so steeped in the hierarchical concepts of knighthood that the thought of objecting to His Highness Randell never crossed it.

Brandon was naturally gifted and possessed the arrogance of a Knight-Noble. Red Wolf, being of humble origin, was discreet and pragmatic. He gave his commander a fawning smile, to which Brandon merely shrugged indifferently.

Klaus was calm and composed, always polite in his dealings with others. Rogers, the mountain folk, was proud and untamable, but he knew gratitude, respected the strong and the wise, and had a strong sense of teamwork. The two of them would likely get along well.

“My lord, I have a question,” Klaus said, raising his hand to speak.

“What is it?” Victor asked with a pleasant expression. Among the attendant knights of Silver Moon Manor, Klaus was the one he admired most.

“My lord, your Dragonkin handmaidens don’t seem very friendly. They are powerful. What should I do if they don’t obey orders, or if their opinion differs from mine?” Klaus stood up, bowed, and asked respectfully.

His question was a crucial one. The other commanders and pathfinders all pricked up their ears.

Victor smiled in appreciation and shook his head. “You need not worry about my Dragonkin handmaidens disobeying orders. However, if they use the address ‘My King, Randell,’ it means they represent my will. You must follow my instructions. Do you understand?”

“As you wish, my honored Master,” the three family Knights and three Ferocious warriors stood up and said in unison.

“If there are no other questions, dismiss—”

“Wait! I have a question!”

Narsen raised both his hands high, as if afraid Victor wouldn’t see him, and said in a booming voice, “My lord, you forgot about me.”

Victor was silent for a moment, then nodded to Charlotte. The sworn female knight understood with a tacit glance and said in a soft voice, “Everyone, go and rest. I have prepared rooms for each of you… Klaus, Brandon, come with me. There is something I wish to ask your opinion on.”

Chapter 745: Fireproofing the Home Front

The vast military command hall was left with only Victor and Narsen. Greensage candles, as thick as a child’s arm, crackled and popped, their flames flickering from bright to dim. This was the effect of uncrushed greensage grass leaves being burned, a minor flaw of the candles, but it was accompanied by the fragrant scent of grass and wood.

The air in the great hall was a bit stuffy. Victor snapped his fingers, and a sudden vortex of air extinguished the dozens of Greensage candles, plunging the room into darkness. He stood up and said, “Come, I’ll take you to the Treasury below to see my collection.”

The two walked through the long corridors of the castle. Victor spoke with high spirits, “You’ve known for a long time that I was secretly building a mountain stronghold, but this is your first time visiting it.”

Narsen, holding a kettle, doused a brazier lighting the corridor and quickened his pace to catch up to his liege lord. “I remember the Ant-man plague wasn’t over yet,” he said. “Master was summoned to Rose Manor by My Lady, while Jack and I stayed behind to defend the fief. You even specifically instructed me not to let the York family’s secret knights find us… I never thought you’d actually build such a large secret family fortress deep in the Larkspur Mountains.”

“Why didn’t you think so?” Victor asked with a smile.

“Heh heh, you and My Lady are so deeply in love… All that business before was just a misunderstanding.”

When the Ant-man tide swept through the Randell Fief, Victor had sent Lilia to Black Fortress Town with a rock brick sample to request aid. Who would have known that the York family was too preoccupied to deal with its own problems, and Sylvia had no time for him. By the time Victor discovered the Ant-man tide’s weakness and began employing guerrilla tactics, specifically targeting the Silver-rank Ant-man chiefs, Sylvia sent Trisley and Nicole to the Pioneer Fief to find him.

Victor was confident he could defend his own fief and was instead worried that Sylvia would place him under house arrest, because he had not yet built a castle and was not, legally, a Pioneer Lord.

The mountain stronghold was a product of that unique period. It was said to be for fending off the Ant-men, but it was actually a backup plan to prevent the York family from seizing the Randell Fief.

Narsen knew of that part of the family’s history, but Victor sighed and said, “It is precisely because Sylvia and I are so deeply in love that the consequences of her finding out about the mountain stronghold will be especially severe.”

“How could that be? My Lady entrusted the entire York family to you, Master…” Narsen said with a foolish grin.

The closer a husband and wife, the less room there is for logic; a couple that relies on logic can hardly be considered a true couple. The Queen of Roses had extraordinary magnanimity, but in Victor’s presence, she was just a beautiful, gentle little wife who enjoyed her husband’s doting. Naturally, she would not be one to reason with His Highness Randell.

For a long time, Sylvia had spared no effort in elevating her husband’s prestige, gradually transferring the power to command the York family to him. If Sylvia learned that Victor had hidden the mountain stronghold from her for so long, she would certainly fly into a rage.

The wrath of a Spirit Knight was not something an ordinary person could withstand.

Victor couldn’t be bothered to explain it to Narsen. He led him down a spiral staircase and into the corridor on the first floor that led to the Treasury.

Soldiers stood guard here, clad in dark-red six-legged crocodile leather plate and armed with round shields and long-handled piercing scimitars. They stood in pairs, motionless as statues.

Initial-rank Mind Warriors practiced visualization, which allowed them to fall asleep quickly in harsh environments. They could also use unique breathing methods combined with visualization to enter a state of light sleep, thereby reducing their mental consumption and maintaining their combat fitness for long periods.

The Alchemical militia, enhanced with the third-level Source Blood Secret Art, were equivalent to the most elite initial-rank Mind Warriors. They could maintain their standing posture for eight days without food or drink.

As Victor and Narsen passed by, these well-proportioned Source-blood militia bowed their heads in salute. Narsen couldn’t help but exclaim in admiration, “These Mind Warriors are very formidable. It would take some effort even for me to break through their defensive line. If it were Tao De and the others, they wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Mm, what are you trying to say?” Victor asked, glancing sideways at him.

“My lord, these Mind Warriors are stronger than Tao De and his men, and I’m stronger than these Mind Warriors… You should take me with you,” Narsen said hastily.

“Mind Warriors created by special means are all rather dull-witted. This surprise attack requires the martial strength of Mind Warriors, but it needs the wisdom and adaptability of Tao De and the others even more.”

“Tao De… forget Tao De, but Brandon and Klaus aren’t even full knights yet, and they don’t have much experience marching in the wilderness.” Narsen slapped his chest and declared, “My lord, I have ignited the fire of the mind, I have the most extensive exploration experience, and I’ve dealt with the Ant-men before… How can I be left out of something like an assault on an ant nest?”

By now, the two had reached the Treasury door at the end of the corridor. Victor didn’t respond to Narsen’s self-recommendation. He gestured for the Source-blood militia guards to open the door and turned with a smile. “Come in and have a look.”

The mountain stronghold’s Treasury was the same size as the military command hall on the second floor. The neatly stacked treasure chests had all been emptied out by the Dragonkin handmaidens, their exotic contents piled into four small mounds as high as a writing desk and as large as a double bed. The soft glow of fluorescent stones illuminated gold and silver ingots, Mithril, Adamantine, and Thorium, as well as zircons, various element crystals, gems, armor, and weapons, reflecting a dazzling, multicolored light that was bewitching to behold.

The Dragonkin handmaidens were sprawled atop their respective treasure hoards, sleeping soundly. Besides the four of them, there was not another living creature to be seen in the Treasury, not even an ant.

A dragon’s protection domain was like a sieve. Weak creatures like insects, snakes, and rats would die instantly upon entering; animals like cats, dogs, jackals, and wolves would keep their distance, oppressed by the Dragon’s Might; more powerful beasts would be surrounded and intercepted by the dragon’s servants and generally couldn’t even get close to the protection domain. But if an outside creature managed to breach the domain’s edge, the dragons would awaken immediately.

In their Dragonoid forms, the Dragonkin handmaidens’ protection domains were only a hundred meters in radius. However, Alexia of the red dragon bloodline occupied the largest treasure hoard, positioned toward the front and center of the hall, and her protection domain conveniently covered the antechamber and the main gate.

Because it was their Master who had entered, the Dragonkin handmaidens did not awaken from their dormancy; in fact, they slept even more soundly. As for Narsen, they already regarded this powerful and dangerous human as the king’s servant, so the protection domain did not repel him.

Victor walked to one of the treasure hoards and looked at the Dragonkin handmaiden Laila curled up on top. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” he asked.

Narsen, only a step away from the Gold rank, could understand that the “beauty” his master spoke of referred to the beauty of her level of life. An ordinary person would likely have been entranced by the Dragonkin handmaiden’s physical charms. Narsen had seen several high-ranking female knights, and the beauty they displayed was a noble one that brooked no violation. Even when they flirted with His Highness Randell, they never revealed a flirtatious or bewitching side to others. The Dragonkin handmaiden’s beauty, however, was exceptionally vivid. Narsen had never seen such an alluringly beautiful female of another race, but his psychic intuition could touch upon the invincible power of the draconic protection domain.

Narsen was silent for a moment before saying gravely, “Terrifying.”

“Beautiful and terrifying creations.” Victor nodded, reaching out a finger to brush across Laila’s fair, smooth cheek. He turned around and said coolly, “Therefore, their opponents are equally terrifying… You said before, how could a mission to raid an ant nest not include you? But I have four Dragonkin handmaidens and only one Lord Narsen. I can sacrifice them, but I cannot sacrifice you.”

Narsen took a step forward and argued, “But what about Lady Charlotte, and Brandon and the others? You’re taking them, aren’t you? My strength may not match the Dragonkin handmaidens now, but their strength is far less than mine.”

“They answered my call to war, so I am creating an opportunity for them to grow.” Victor shook his head and pulled a longsword forged from Thorium and Adamantine from the treasure hoard. He handed it to Narsen and said, “Back then, when you dueled Charlotte’s brother in the forest, you would have been killed by the knights of Golden Creek Town if not for the Thorium Ant-man armor I gave you. When you attacked the Golden Dawn Sparrow Earl in Stonetooth City, you would have died if the Elite Guards hadn’t fought to the death to save you… And Nicole, she pursued the Old Ogre into the Black Forest alone. If we hadn’t rescued her in time, she would have hardly escaped with her life.”

“To be blessed by the Force of Destiny, one must inevitably face the trials of destiny. Charlotte, Brandon, their potential and aptitude are all quite average… To be frank, they do not have the right to be followers of the Raging Wind Sword Saint. I can only allocate the blessings of the Force of Destiny, give them seats at the Round Table, and let them enjoy the power and status of House of Randell. But they must be worthy of this honor.”

Victor smiled faintly and said, “You and Nicole have no need for these things. You have already put in the effort. As long as you maintain your current mental state, once the populace under the rule of House of Randell continues to grow and the army’s size exceeds one hundred thousand, you and Nicole will have a high chance of breaking through to the Gold realm.”

Narsen gripped the sword’s hilt. The cyan-purple blade hummed like the buzzing of a bee’s wings, then fell silent. He knelt on one knee, resting the longsword’s point on the ground, and said earnestly, “My lord, I never thought about any of what you just said. I only wish to be able to follow in your footsteps.”

Victor bent down, took Narsen by the arm, and helped him up. He said with a smile, “My lord, I have no doubt of your loyalty, but I must think about the things you haven’t.”

“For this raid on the ant nest, I have no certainty of eliminating the Ant-man queen. The main purpose of this trip is still reconnaissance, and to cause some trouble for the Ant-man army on the side. My goal is to protect Centaur Hills and the Randell Fief. I need you and Nicole to actively prepare for war on the home front, but my biggest worry is a fire in the backyard.”

Narsen rubbed the back of his head, looking utterly perplexed. “Backyard? Which backyard? It’s fine, why would it catch fire?”

“…It’s Lady Sylvia’s fire.”

Victor shook his head and chuckled. He pulled a suit of six-legged crocodile vine-hide armor from the bottom of the treasure hoard. Jewels and precious metals cascaded down with a clatter. The Dragonkin handmaiden Laila, who was lying on top, simply rolled over, restabilized the collapsing treasure hoard, and continued her sound sleep, undisturbed.

The vine-hide armor she had been using as a cushion was flattened, but with a gentle shake from Victor, the misshapen leather plate returned to its original form.

“The exterior of this leather plate is identical to ordinary six-legged crocodile vine-hide armor, but the vine threads and python-skin lining inside have been fused with Thorium. Its defensive capabilities far exceed standard vine-hide armor, though it’s still not as good as true Thorium leather plate. For this expedition, every member will be equipped with this Thorium-laced armor. Besides being lightweight and durable, the main reason is that I don’t want to expose the secret of Thorium,” Victor said, passing the armor to Narsen.

Narsen forcefully twisted the Thorium leather plate into a rope-like shape, then watched as it returned to its original form. He grinned. “Thorium is good stuff.”

Victor nodded. “Thorium is more valuable than rock brick. Centaur Hills needs more time to stockpile soft silver ore… Look, here are Mithril ingots and Adamantine ingots. I got them by trading the Mithril from that silver mine to the east with the Chepman family.”

Narsen’s eyes widened in disbelief. “That silver mine you ordered to be sealed up is a Mithril mine?”

A bitter smile touched the corner of Victor’s lips. “Back then, I was as wary of Sylvia as I would be of a thief… When she learns the secrets of the mountain stronghold—the Mithril, the Thorium, Imoson the Wizard, the Dragonkin handmaidens, and the Dragon-Lizard war beasts—she will be furious. Furious at me. If I were in Centaur Hills, everything could be handled. But I won’t be here. Who will bear her wrath?”

Narsen thought for a long time, then suddenly shivered. He pointed a finger at his own nose and stammered, “My lord, you mean you want me to bear My Lady’s wrath?”

Victor burst out laughing and clapped the lord on the shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t you worry. The Bear of the Northlands is, after all, a Ferocious warrior with one foot in the Gold realm. Sylvia will show you some respect. Even if My love does decide on a punishment, you and Nicole together can handle it. But if you were to leave the Randell Fief with me, Nicole and Lilia would be the ones to suffer… Sylvia would only need to give a single look, and Lilia would spill everything about the Mountain folk strongholds and Quicksilver Manor I’ve built up. Trisley would be sent to take over Silver Moon Manor, and Nicole would be banished to Rose Castle.”

As an afterthought, he added, “And by the time we returned, your position as commander of the mercenary legion would be gone.”

Narsen’s expression shifted. He muttered, “Your Highness, My Lady is your wife. What does any of that matter…”

It doesn’t matter, really, but losing the authority of legion commander and lady of the fief would hinder your and Nicole’s advancement… Victor was both amused and exasperated, feeling a tinge of disappointment in Narsen for not showing his full potential. He put on a stern face and said, “You are to stay. This is an order!”

“As you command!”

Narsen snapped to attention, striking his left breast with his right fist in a standard military salute.

Victor nodded in satisfaction, his tone softening. “I estimate this expedition to the Outer Realms will take two or three years at the very least. I need you to expand the army by at least another one and a half standard legions. You can draw recruits from the Mountain folk strongholds. Also, I will draft a preliminary training strategy for the mercenary legion to combat the Ant-man tide, but it will need to be revised according to the actual situation. When I send intelligence back via messenger raven, Lady Sylvia will make the appropriate arrangements. You are to actively participate in the tactical and strategic planning at Rose Manor and cooperate with My Lady’s military deployments.”

“As you wish, my lord.” Narsen bowed slightly and stammered, “Expanding the mercenary legion requires My Lady Nicole’s approval… Regarding this matter, I think it’s best you tell her yourself. It seems Lady Sylvia might not be the only one who’ll get angry.”

Victor rubbed his furrowed brow. He knew all too well that Nicole was no pushover, but telling Nicole about this beforehand was tantamount to telling Sylvia.

“Mm, I will speak with My Lady Nicole… You are not to reveal any of this information to anyone!”

Narsen scratched the top of his head, a look of confusion on his face. “What information? I don’t know anything.”

Chapter 746: Guidance

There was a strange phenomenon in the high society of the human kingdoms: Ferocious Warriors were generally not valued. Even if they possessed combat strength on par with Knights, they were still looked down upon by the nobles.

Famous and powerful Ferocious Warriors were the exception.

Caligula and Narsen were the best examples. Since receiving the divine arts legacy of the Sacred Warrior Ron, Aka’s personal strength had undergone a qualitative change, bringing him close to the legendary realm. Although Tournans could defeat him, it would be a difficult fight. By all rights, Caligula could be addressed as a Highness, but no one regarded him as such. Narsen’s strength was a whole level below Caligula’s; he could barely hold his own against a Gold-rank Centaur, and in the end, it was Aka who had to step in and help him earn the title of “Centaur-Slayer.”

However, Lord Narsen’s fame far outstripped Caligula’s. Powerful lords all paid attention to the movements of Lord Narsen Randell, and he was even a person of note within the Church.

This was because Narsen had slain the Silver Knight Horton Ludwig and simultaneously served as the legion commander for the Randall family. Caligula lacked Narsen’s battle record and authority, as well as the wisdom and means to stand on his own two feet.

It was widely believed that the Randall family’s resources and heritage were shallow. Aside from the Bear of the Northlands, the family knights and Ferocious Warriors on whom the Gold-Eyed Earl relied were nothing to write home about. Great lords and high-ranking clergy wouldn’t pay any special attention to Charlotte, Brandon, or Klaus. As for Macy, Rogers, and Red Wolf, these three Ferocious Warriors were even less worthy of mention. The female warrior Macy at least had the title of “Blood Python,” but the other two were completely unknown, nothing more than disposable small fry.

During this year’s season of freezing rain, His Highness Randell was busy juggling his time between his three partners—Sylvia, Catherine, and Gillian. Lord Narsen was still in the Randell Fief, training his mercenary soldiers. Astonishingly, no one noticed the anomaly of Victor secretly gathering several family knights and Ferocious Warriors in the Lizard Marsh to slaughter Goblin slaves.

Both Rose Manor and Aerie Fortress knew some of the Randall family’s little-known secrets. They assumed that the Randell knights and Ferocious Warriors who hadn’t been seen for a whole month were serving as Victor’s experimental subjects.

Thanks to the difficulty of travel and the inconvenience of transmitting information during the season of freezing rain, Victor quietly completed his preparations for the expedition to the Endless Forest. But while his subtle maneuvers might have fooled Sylvia, they couldn’t deceive the mistress of Silver Moon Manor—Nicole.

Beldina, the Uncrowned King of Silver Moon Manor, had been missing for over a month, and people were constantly asking My Lady Nicole about her whereabouts. Nicole was equally concerned for the plump little-cutie, but she never once questioned Victor, merely placing Beldina’s personal belongings where he could see them.

It had to be said that Nicole’s actions were very considerate, yet they also carried a hint of grievance and a little resentment.

Nicole and Victor had been deeply in love for over a decade, and she had always supported him silently from behind the scenes. But she was, after all, a female knight of the York family, trained at Rose Manor and sworn to serve Sylvia. Although their hearts beat as one, there were many things Victor could not conveniently explain to Nicole, lest he put her in a difficult position.

Victor was about to leave on an expedition, and it was only right and proper that he provide Nicole with an account of his intentions. This would also serve as an explanation for Sylvia and Trisley.

At the very end of the rainy season, before the winter snows had begun to fall, a fine drizzle misted the air. Victor and Nicole departed from the docks at Laketon, sharing a small sailboat and heading for the wooden villa on the island in the center of the lake.

The season of freezing rain was not a good time to enjoy the scenery of the lake. On a summer night, the lake’s surface would be as smooth as a mirror, its few deep pools reflecting the silver moon in the sky, a stark contrast to the soft, pale hues of the shallow waters. Boating on the lake then was a chance to witness a wondrous sight, and sailing around the moon’s reflection in the pools had a unique romance to it. It was nothing like now, with dark clouds blanketing the sky and the lake water a murky, somber shade. The air was damp and cold, and the small boat, floating alone on the lake, looked utterly bleak.

There were only Victor and Nicole on the boat. They sat side by side on the gunwale, the small sail catching the wind, pushing the vessel nimbly across the waveless surface as if it were a living thing.

Nicole leaned against Victor’s shoulder, her red lips curved into a smile that revealed sweet dimples. She held up her skirt, exposing a pair of long, well-proportioned calves, and dipped her slender, snow-white feet into the icy lake water, her limbs intertwined with her lover’s.

As long as Victor was by her side, any place was a beautiful view. Moreover, the wooden house on the island was a love nest they had built with their own hands. The island was also planted with flowers of all colors, and Victor had named this place “Nicole’s Secret Garden.”

Sylvia, Trisley, and Gillian had once wanted to visit the island, but because of its name, His Highness Randell’s proud lovers lost interest. Thus, the small island in the lake was a world that belonged exclusively to Nicole and Victor.

“Nicole, I don’t want to deceive you. I have many secrets, but now is not the time to be completely honest with you,” Victor said softly, stroking Nicole’s jade hands, which were as soft as if they were boneless.

“…Hmph.” Nicole wrinkled her nose and gave a faint grunt of acknowledgment.

A look of surprise crossed Victor’s face. “My love, aren’t you curious?”

“Not curious… just a little angry.” Nicole lifted her starry eyes and gazed at Victor’s handsome face. The more she looked, the more she liked what she saw. Unable to resist, she opened her mouth and gave her lover’s lips a gentle bite, then giggled. “That’s better.”

Then, she tilted her head and asked, “Does Charlotte know all of your secrets?”

Victor finally relaxed. He knew Nicole wasn’t that magnanimous; it was only normal for the big jar of jealousy to be upset with Charlotte.

Seeing her lover’s teasing expression, Nicole pouted and said, “I’m going to find a Sworn Knight too… a male one.”

A Sworn Knight was equivalent to a lord’s personal assistant, and their gender was not restricted. A female lord could have a male Sworn Knight, though they generally did not develop a romantic relationship. Most lords, by convention, only chose Knights of the same gender to be their Sworn Knights. A male Sworn Knight would eventually become a vassal lord of the family, while a female Sworn Knight to the lord’s wife would always integrate into the family as the lord’s lover.

Charlotte being His Highness Randell’s favored mistress was a more distinct case. It was a bit of a stretch for Victor to make her his Sworn Knight, and it was bound to anger the Countess of Randell. Sophia, the official wife, didn’t care, but Nicole had always been bothered by it, and her relationship with Charlotte was not particularly harmonious.

Although Victor knew Nicole was just teasing him, His Highness Randell followed his true self and said with a stern face, “I won’t allow it.”

Seeing her beloved become jealous, Nicole’s heart blossomed with joy. She giggled. “I already have Sworn Knights, and three great beauties at that… Lilia, Elina, and Alice are all my Sworn Knights. Are you satisfied, my love?”

While controlling the wind element to fill the sail, Victor nodded with a smile and said, “My love, I can tell you some secrets that even Charlotte doesn’t know.”

Nicole’s eyes lit up. “Oh? What secrets?” she asked joyfully.

“Imosen and Beldina are actually Wizards.”

“I guessed that already. And I’m sure Charlotte knows by now too,” Nicole said with a coquettish roll of her pretty eyes.

Victor dodged the topic of Charlotte and asked with a grin, “What have you guessed?”

Nicole wrapped her arms around Victor’s neck and whispered, “Thinking back now, Imosen’s origins are strange. With his level of beast-taming skill, any lord would value him. It makes no sense for him to end up in the Centaur Hills, mingling with the Swamp Scouts. His Wizardry must be related to life modification, not just for animals, but for humans too… Recently, Reno and Shak disappeared for a while. When I saw them again, I noticed their eyes were crystalline, like a senior knight’s. Normally, a Ferocious Warrior reaching that level must have ignited the fire of the mind. But they showed no signs of it, yet they were stronger than other initial-rank Mind Warriors. And they seemed to have lost their memories, becoming very dull… You also secretly took Imosen away recently. All of this is enough to prove that he’s the Wizard who cultivates Elite Guards for the family.”

Victor smiled without a word. Confident in her judgment, Nicole continued, “My love, I won’t tell My Lady. You can choose the right time to explain it to her yourself.”

“As for Beldina…” Nicole furrowed her slender, willow-like brows and shook her head. “I didn’t know she was a Shamaness. His Holiness the Pope examined her body and soul and found absolutely no problem… The clergy in the Randell Fief all adore Bel. Vice Dean Atolia from the Monastery even wanted to snatch our Bel away for the Church.”

Victor picked up the thread, “Bel’s wizardry ability is luck. There might be others, like cuteness, longevity… She’s actually Imosen’s daughter. I investigated this secret long ago. There are records of it in the secret vault; I’ll show you later.”

“What? Father and daughter are both Wizards?” Nicole’s red lips parted slightly as she murmured in disbelief.

Victor nodded, a mysterious smile on his face. “I’ll tell you another secret that only I, Sylvia, His Holiness the Pope, Tournans, and a handful of high-ranking clergy know.”

Nicole’s ears twitched. She said in a sweet voice, “I’m listening.”

“Our Father Miller is a prominent figure, even more formidable than the current Pope. He can be considered my and Sylvia’s equal,” Victor stated, his tone both casual and dignified.

“This… He… Why?” Nicole’s expression shifted, and she finally asked with apprehension, “Is Miller a Spirit Priest? Why… why did he come to the Randell Fief?”

Senior knights really are clever, figuring out the crux of the matter so quickly, Victor thought in silent admiration. He shrugged and said nonchalantly, “Sylvia is acting as if she doesn’t know this secret, and you should do the same.”

Disclosing Miller’s identity to Nicole was necessary. Miller was secretly contributing to Victor’s upcoming expedition. From another perspective, one could say Victor was contributing to Miller’s efforts. Without Miller’s Great Divination, it would be impossible for Victor to travel to the distant Endless Forest to find an ancient Alchemist’s Elemental Rune Crystal; it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Since Victor was preparing to run away from home, he definitely had to drag the old man Miller out to bear the wrath and censure of his ladies.

Besides Sylvia and Trisley, Nicole also had the right to know the truth. Otherwise, when the lid was lifted, she would be deeply hurt, which might even hinder her path as a knight.

Victor wouldn’t say more. He would let Nicole fill in the blanks herself. Changing the subject, he said, “Let’s talk about something else.”

Her gaze met his clear, profound dark gold eyes, and Nicole broke free from her confusion. She understood that Father Miller’s affairs were not something she could ponder at her current level. Circulating her Aura to suppress her restless thoughts, she broke into a smile. “Alright.”

After a moment’s thought, Victor said, “Ten days ago, I met with Sophia in Blinor City. From her, I learned that the Sasan Empire has been developing new territories and planting green wheat, achieving great harvests for two consecutive years… We must admit that the northern lords enjoy a uniquely favorable environment that we southern lords cannot hope to match. If this continues, even if we cross the Goldwater River and establish the Gambis Empire, we will sooner or later be marginalized and find it difficult to contend with the northern lord faction.”

Nicole blinked, lifting her chin proudly. “But we have His Highness Randell, and we have the Mind Bloodline secret art.”

Victor shook his head with a laugh. “In the long run, the Mind Bloodline secret art cannot solve the north-south imbalance or the problem of talent and bloodlines flowing north… The most valuable secret arts must be popularizable. However, even the most brilliant secret art will one day be leaked. You see, the Church isn’t in a hurry to pry into the Mind Bloodline secret art at all. They believe they can obtain any secret art; it’s just a matter of time.”

“In fact, my research into the Mind Bloodline secret art is a means to unveil the mysteries of the world’s Law, which is of great significance to extraordinary beings at the Legendary rank and above.” Victor lifted Nicole’s elegantly curved chin and said with a smile, “My love, you’re still a little short.”

Nicole sighed in slight frustration and said morosely, “I know I’m far from it…”

Victor didn’t console Nicole, but simply nodded and continued, “I’ve spoken with Sophia. I’ve asked her to negotiate an unprecedented grain futures trade with the Sasan Empire, using the huge debt the Sasan Imperial Family owes us as collateral. We will purchase a fixed quota of green wheat for five years at the current grain price, with priority supply to the Gambis Kingdom. These grain futures will belong to the Centaur Hills and be managed and sold by the Wimbledon Merchant Association… In five years, Sophia will hand the Merchant Association over to Soren.”

Nicole had heard about the futures trading model from Victor before. She asked in surprise, “My love, grain prices will only get cheaper and cheaper. Won’t you lose money by ordering grain futures from the Sasan lords now?”

Under normal circumstances, establishing grain futures at the current price would certainly result in a loss, but the opposite would be true if a full-scale war broke out. Victor had Sophia negotiate grain futures with the Sassans in part to stimulate grain production and prepare for a potential war.

“The losses will be limited, and besides, we’re rich,” Victor said with a laugh. “Only with a stable food supply can we expand our mercenary legion. Haven’t you always been clamoring to increase the size of the Randell mercenary legion? Let’s expand it by two more standard legions. That way, my Nicole can command the largest mercenary legion in the human kingdoms.”

“But… that will cost a lot of money.” Nicole bit her red lip and shook her head. “I don’t think it’s necessary.”

Victor gazed out at the dark surface of the lake and said with a frown, “My love, everything has external and internal connections, visible or invisible, but these connections cannot be severed… In terms of Bloodline, the Baselius family is nobler than the Testier family, yet the Testier family produced a Legendary and two new Highnesses. The Baselius family only has Auroxia who advanced to Legendary, while Duke Baselius failed to take the next step. Having to cede the throne to the increasingly decadent Frederick family must have been incredibly frustrating for the Gryphon Duke. But against a behemoth like the Church, they are helpless.”

“The secular world belongs to the lords, and divine authority belongs to the Church. The lords, a disorderly mob, are no match for the Church. Even with our Mind Bloodline secret art, it’s not enough… Who do you think the lords’ mercenary legions will fall into the hands of?” Victor asked leisurely.

Nicole was both shocked and angry. “The Church dares to meddle with our mercenary legions?”

“Of course they wouldn’t dare meddle with the mercenary legions of the Centaur Hills… But what about the lesser lords, the Viscounts and Barons? Their family knights are only enough to lead their vassal soldiers. Their mercenary legions will come to rely on the Church’s battle priests and Sacred Warriors. The Church controls a portion of the mercenary legions of lords in every kingdom. How immense is the power they command? How can we compete with the Church for the favor of the Force of Destiny? Pope Clement’s support for lords to open schools for general education and form mercenary legions was no whim,” Victor said, shaking his head.

Nicole couldn’t help but fall into deep thought. After a while, she heard Victor say:

“Standardization is the key to breaking the stalemate!”

“The Mind Bloodline secret art can enhance family cohesiveness, but exporting standardization is even more important. We cannot directly interfere in the family affairs of external lords, but the standardization of logistics, armaments, and legions that we export can extend our influence, forming a military closed loop. Only this is worthy of the prestige that the royal family and the Queen’s family ought to have.”

Victor’s and Nicole’s fingers intertwined. “My love,” he said earnestly, “I have already laid the foundation for standardization in the Randell Fief. The workshops in each administrative village are all a part of the standardized process. You must leave a profound mark on this historical process of standardization. I believe this is crucial for your future. The largest mercenary legion in the Centaur Hills will help you defeat your internal competitors and become the trailblazer for military standardization in the Centaur Hills.”

Nicole’s eyes shone brightly, her heart as sweet as if it were filled with honey. She said coquettishly, “My love, you have to help me.”

The small sailboat shot straight onto the island’s sandy beach. Victor scooped up Nicole by her slender waist and long legs, jumped barefoot onto the ground, and, holding his beautiful and gentle lover, teased her as he walked, “Of course I’ll help you… For the next two days, we will thoroughly discuss the implementation plan for standardization in ‘Nicole’s Secret Garden’.”

Chapter 747: The Choice

Winter snow arrived as expected. The first snowfall in the Centaur Hills lasted for three days and two nights before it finally ceased. Ice and snow blanketed the mountains and rivers, and even the Silvermoon River, which bisected the land from north to south, was half-frozen. The banks were lined with ice half a meter thick, leaving only a channel of water in the center flowing south.

When the second great snow arrived, the entire surface of the river would be sealed by frost. An adult could lead a horse across the ice to the opposite bank, and children, being lighter, loved to bundle up in thick winter clothes and chase each other across the frozen surface.

It was a rather dangerous game, as no one knew when a hole might crack open in the river ice. Anyone who fell into an ice hole would surely be swept away by the current all the way to the never-freezing Goldwater River, their body never to be found.

Ever since the stream reservoirs were built, no mischievous child bothered with the river ice anymore. The frozen, smaller stream reservoirs became their new playground. It was said that the Esteemed master, Earl Randell, had even invented ice skates and encouraged the attendants and maids of Silver Moon Manor to take up ice skating to train their sense of balance.

Now, ice skating has become an important competitive sport in the Randell Fief, much like the annual handball tournament. The top teams could win handsome prize money provided by the lord, as well as the cheers and adoration of the populace. However, ice skating was not as intensely confrontational as handball. It emphasized individual skill and artistry, with postures and movements as graceful and fluid as a dance, a pleasing sight that always won a round of applause.

Several of Randell Fief’s sporting competitions had now expanded throughout the entire Centaur Hills. According to the Esteemed master, the Gold-Eyed Earl, these events had already formed an industry. The winning teams from various families gathered in Goldwater City to participate in a grand tournament hosted by His Grace, Duke York, competing for the championship title, honor, and wealth. Every match drew large crowds, and shrewd vendors seized the opportunity to sell all sorts of snacks, drinks, and novelties. The town gangs organized gambling rings around the games—a business tacitly approved by the Magistrate’s Office. The lord needed a way to reclaim the funds tied up by tenant households and mercenary soldiers, and so the gambling industry gradually became a gray area, neither entirely illicit nor entirely legal.

Once the gamblers placed their bets, they wouldn’t skimp on a few Copper Sols for a good seat, willing to pay for a spot on the stands to enjoy the exciting matches. Seated tickets reflected a spectator’s status, because the poor devils were only fit to stand; all who stood were either poor devils or cheapskates. Although the income from seated tickets was not substantial, all of it was donated to the Mutual Aid Association, with the Church acting as the collector and manager. Believers who prided themselves on their dignity all gave generously, hoping to leave a good impression on the esteemed Fathers.

A large-scale gambling operation involving tens of thousands of people would be unimaginable without the Church’s tacit approval and cooperation. The esteemed Fathers represented fairness and justice—at least they were more reliable than the Magistrate’s Office. They did not participate in the gambling, but they had the authority to announce the results of the games. The populace trusted the moral character of the esteemed Fathers; if a priest said a match was fixed, you could be sure no one would place another bet.

Of course, the profits from the gambling were subject to the tithe, so the Church had no reason to oppose this major event.

In fact, even without the tithe, the Church’s priests would have been very enthusiastic about organizing and participating.

Everyone loved the winter holidays. After more than half a year of hard work, they could finally enjoy a good two-month rest. The freezing rain season kept everyone indoors, but the snowy sixteenth month was perfect for going out. The bustling churches and taverns were frequent destinations. Tavern owners could earn several times their usual income, and the same was true for the Church, which harvested the power of faith.

Winter was the busiest season of the year for the resident priests. Dayne led the church attendants in setting up the grounds for the ice skating competition, working from morning until evening. This was not originally his job, but the Randell Diocese he managed now had fifteen official priests, forty-two Sacred Warriors, and over three hundred church attendants. Every administrative village in the Randell Fief had a small chapel with a priest in permanent residence. Dayne finally had more time and vigor to handle matters beyond traditional church affairs.

A few years ago during winter, Dayne would have led church attendants through the town’s shantytowns, distributing relief bread and winter clothes to refugees who lacked food and clothing. Since coming to the Randell Diocese, such relief efforts had become rare. After the Mutual Aid Association was established in the Randell Fief, the Church priests no longer needed to personally provide aid to poor believers.

Now, there were very few poor people in the entire Centaur Hills Diocese who needed aid. Bishop Pello had consequently adjusted the Church’s missionary policy in the Centaur Hills: increase investment in the schools for general education and guide the Mutual Aid Association to align more closely with the Church.

The Mutual Aid Association was very useful.

The leadership of the Mutual Aid Association was to be composed of the children of vassal families and freemen merchants. They raised their own funds to help those in peril and need. Nominally, it fell under the lord’s jurisdiction, but in practice, it received guidance from the Church, making it something of an outer organization of the Church. This was mainly because the Knight-Nobles were unwilling to get close to the Commoners. For instance, if the handsome His Highness Randell were to approach the common folk, it would only cause a spectacle and stir up trouble.

Dayne had no such concerns. As a high-ranking clergy member, he could not only mingle with common believers, but even the stewards and aides of the House of Randell could not contend with a fifth-rank priest.

As long as the Mutual Aid Association was not used for excessive purposes, the lord did not care how much influence the Church had over it. Their purpose was to assist the Church priests in carrying out relief work, which also reduced the lord’s troubles—this was the conclusion Dayne had reached after much probing.

Someone had paid with their life and fortune for this.

Two years ago, a wealthy merchant director of the Randell Fief Mutual Aid Association was robbed and murdered in his home. When the Laketon Magistrate’s Office investigated the crime scene, they discovered five military-grade crossbows in the merchant’s house. For possessing contraband, the unlucky man’s entire fortune was ordered confiscated by My Lady Lilia. The bandits who killed him were, of course, publicly sentenced and hanged in the square before the Laketon Church by the Magistrate’s Office.

The lord’s methods were just that simple and crude, and the freemen merchants were utterly powerless to resist.

What Dayne did not know was that the Mutual Aid Association was actually a carefully planned move by His Highness Randell. The freemen merchants of The Golden Company were hidden within it, allowing Pope Clement to secretly protect the basic rights and interests of these merchants in the fiefs of various families. Dayne’s probes in Laketon, carried out under Bishop Pello’s instructions, had in practice established the boundaries and basic rules between the Church priests, the Mutual Aid Association merchants, and the lord. The Pope then disseminated these rules to every diocese.

The various governance measures of the great scholar, His Highness Randell, had always been eagerly emulated by the Titled nobles, and the Mutual Aid Association was no exception.

The current rule in the Laketon Mutual Aid Association was: freemen merchants could join the association, and the Church would guarantee the safety of their lives and property, but they were not allowed to use the association to interfere in the fief’s internal affairs or to further expand the Church’s influence.

Dayne was quite satisfied with this outcome. The Mutual Aid Association served as a buffer between the lord, the Church, and the tenant households, representing a new avenue for missionary work. By testing the bottom line of Silver Moon Manor in the Randell Diocese and establishing the rules for the Mutual Aid Association’s survival, he had rendered meritorious service to the Holy See’s Curia.

The Randell Fief was at the forefront of social change, and Laketon always had many new things worthy of Dayne’s serious study. These would all become valuable experience and important qualifications for a scholar-priest. At the Randell Fief’s rate of development, Laketon would become Lake City in less than two years, and the administrative villages below it would all be upgraded to towns. Although Dayne had the backing of His Holiness the Pope, many others were eyeing his position. He had to do everything perfectly and give his competitors no opportunity to replace him.

After returning to the Laketon Church and handling daily church affairs, Dayne had a simple meal. By now, the sky was pitch black. He strolled up to the third floor, ready for a good night’s sleep. Just as he pushed open the door to his room, Dayne was astonished to find the devastatingly handsome, black-haired, gold-eyed His Highness Randell sitting in a chair.

His expression was tranquil, yet it held a deep, profound strength.

Dayne froze for a moment, then quietly closed the door. He asked cautiously, “Your Highness, is there something you need?”

Victor nodded, his gaze pointing to a sheepskin letter, an official document on the table.

Dayne picked up the letter and read it over and over again, his brows knitting together, mirroring his current state of mind.

The letter was an order handwritten by Father Miller, the resident priest of the Randell Fief. It laid out the various possibilities of the Ant-man plague and demanded that Dayne accompany His Highness Randell to the Endless Forest to investigate the Ant-man lair.

The contents of the letter were so shocking that Dayne was left stunned and doubtful after reading it. His thoughts were a tangled mess, and after a long while, he still couldn’t sort them out or make a decision.

Victor asked with a non-committal smile, “What? You won’t even listen to the order of a resident priest? You question a personal letter from the Esteemed master Miller, the God-favored?”

Dayne shuddered at his words, only then remembering that the Raging Wind Sword Saint had arrived unannounced and was waiting for his reply.

The high-ranking priest forced a sincere, wry smile and said in a placating tone, “Your Highness, Father Miller says in the letter that the Ant-men can dig tunnels and build lairs underground. If they cross the Larkspur Mountains and construct subterranean tunnels in the Centaur Hills, it will surely lead to a great catastrophe… It would be nearly impossible for us to go deep underground and completely eradicate the Ant-man monsters. For such a momentous event, we should first report to the Holy See and Aerie Fortress, and then come up with a response plan after deliberation… Your Highness is of noble status, a Guardian of the Gambis Kingdom and one of the most powerful extraordinary beings in the human kingdoms. There is no need for you to risk yourself. The task of scouting the Ant-man lair can be done by a hand-picked, capable subordinate, or perhaps the Church and the Gambis Royal Family could jointly form a few elite scouting parties?”

Victor admitted that what Dayne said was reasonable, but it was merely conventional reasoning. Unfortunately, the survival of the Ant-man race, modified by ancient Alchemists, could not be explained by conventional logic.

Dayne knew that the God-favored Miller’s extraordinary level was very high, but he lacked a deep understanding of the Gold, legendary, and Saint’s realms. It was like a distant mountain; until you got close, you could only see its blurry outline, unable to appreciate its true majesty and wonder.

Victor sighed softly and said leisurely, “A fifth-rank priest is called a Gold-rank extraordinary being, but such a Gold rank seems to come a little too easily… Dayne, you have but a superficial understanding of power, and you know nothing of the true meaning of strength.”

Even a Gold Knight wouldn’t dare lecture a high-ranking priest to his face, but coming from the Raging Wind Sword Saint, it sounded perfectly natural. Dayne’s face flushed red, then turned pale. He stood there in silence.

“You remind me of Viscount Ternis Ludwig.”

Victor smiled faintly, speaking with some emotion, “He and I were on good terms, but our friendship became an obstacle in his career. He now serves my wife, Marchioness Sophia Wimbledon, and only now does he have the chance to compete with other court nobles for the position of Minister of Finance… Dayne, I certainly hope you can become the Pope, but would the Holy See allow a good friend of the Gold-Eyed Earl to ascend to the papal throne? With the merits you’ve earned in the Randell Fief, the position of Vice Dean of some Monastery should be yours. If you endure for another dozen years, you might become a Dean. Don’t forget, His Holiness Clement has already rewarded you in advance… A fifth-rank priest in his forties, and of common birth at that, is not unheard of, but it is exceedingly rare.”

At this moment, Dayne felt like one of the dazed geese on a chopping block. His lips were sealed tight, his eyes stared blankly, and he stood there, stunned and helpless.

A Monastery held no real power; it was not involved in missionary work or combat. The Deans of Monasteries were generally mid-ranked clergy. It would be considered an exceptional promotion if a Monastery Dean possessed fifth-rank divine arts, but Dayne yearned for the position of a sixth-rank priest and a Cardinal-Bishop. He worked diligently in the Randell Diocese as an assistant priest, frequently corresponding with Pope Clement, and considered himself a core member of the Pope’s faction. Yet, His Highness Randell had just struck him with a blow that dragged him from his beautiful fantasies back to icy reality.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The sound of fingers tapping on the table brought Dayne’s focus back. He heard His Highness Randell continue, “You lack reverence for that old man Miller. Who do you think he is? A second-rank country bumpkin priest? A God-favored with no real power?”

Dayne opened his mouth, his voice hoarse. “Your Highness, I don’t quite understand.”

“You have two choices.” Victor pointed to the document on the table and said, “First, you report this document to Bishop Pello and await orders from the Holy See. Second, you comply with the request of the resident priest, Miller, and accompany me secretly to the Endless Forest. Regardless of which choice you make, and whether you are willing to take the risk or not, you must, and can only, make a trip to the Endless Forest. Since the Esteemed master Miller has singled you out by name, it would be useless even if the Pope himself tried to stop it. In fact, no high-ranking clergy would obstruct a decision made by the Esteemed master Miller. There may be an evil god behind these Ant-man monsters. Even if Miller ordered Grand Commander Testier to go to the Endless Forest, he would go in person. The difference between you and Testier is that the Grand Commander would actively seek battle, while you have no choice.”

Dayne was infatuated with power and status, failing to understand the mysteries of fate. If Father Miller could resolve the hidden threat of an evil god at a small cost, everyone would be happy to see it happen. What was the sacrifice of a mere fifth-rank priest to the Church? In the end, Dayne’s power and strength were insufficient to be the sovereign of his own destiny. He was not a Gold-rank extraordinary being in the truest sense.

The essence of the Gold realm lay in independence, not combat power or a a simple level of life. The Highnesses of the human kingdoms all commanded vast power. Extraordinary abilities like the art of prophecy found it difficult to sway their destinies, and even if they had an effect, it would bring with it unfathomable consequences.

It was like the Dragonoid maids. Their combat strength surpassed that of Gold Knights, and they were even superior to some Legendary Knights. But if they were to oppose a Highness on their own, they would encounter countless difficulties before they even got close, and would most likely be captured or killed.

In the minds of high-ranking church officials like Clement, Dayne’s current position was analogous to the relationship between an attendant knight and a lord. Although he was a fifth-rank priest and held absolute authority in the Randell Diocese, his position was that of an assistant priest, and his direct superior was the resident priest. And this particular resident priest happened to be the God-favored Miller.

His belief that Miller was powerless only demonstrated the shallowness of his own understanding.

Miller had told Victor to just kidnap Dayne, take him to the mountain stronghold first, and then use an official document to force him to go to the Endless Forest.

This approach was like a lord ordering about his servant; Miller had never even considered Dayne’s thoughts. But Victor did not intend to deal with Dayne using Miller’s method.

He wanted to let Dayne make his own choice, and in doing so, test a certain conjecture.

“My time is limited. Make your choice quickly,” Victor said impatiently.

There was no fire in the hearth, and the temperature in the room was low, yet beads of sweat dotted Dayne’s forehead. He remained silent for more than ten seconds, then spoke in a pleading tone, “Your Highness, how do you wish for me to choose?”

Victor shook his head in amusement. “I consider you a friend. That’s why I’m letting you decide for yourself.”

“Then I choose the second option… to follow the orders of the Esteemed master, resident priest Miller, and accompany Your Highness to the Endless Forest to investigate the movements of the Ant-man monsters.”

Victor looked at Dayne with some surprise and asked, “I’m curious, why did you choose the second option?”

“…When all is dark, only radiance endures… The so-called radiance is the inner yearning for the light.” As he spoke, Dayne looked up, a hint of uncertainty in his smile, but he still chuckled self-deprecatingly. “I am a servant of the Supreme Lord. If there are Devils behind the Ant-man monsters, it is my undeniable duty… If not, then I’ll just consider it an exploratory journey with Your Highness.”

Victor’s gaze grew profound, and he nodded in praise. “Dayne, you are quite something.”

At that moment, the Raging Wind Sword Saint knew that he had lost—lost to Miller.

Precisely because of his independence, Victor trusted only his own judgment and had been skeptical of Father Miller’s Great Divination. Although the Ant-men were his mortal enemies, he had not initially planned to risk a trip to the Endless Forest.

His Highness Randell had too many options. Why should he allow himself to be manipulated by Father Miller?

Behind the Ant-men was an Ancient God of unknown state. Dealing with the Ant-man queen should have been the Church’s task. If anyone had to go to the Endless Forest, it should be the clergy. Victor could have simply sat back and reaped the benefits. Thus, his first reaction had been to invite Miller to go with him, an offer Miller had refused, but with conditions.

Victor had always wanted to cultivate an agent among the high-ranking clergy, and Miller had chosen Dayne. But Victor still had his doubts. He worried Dayne was a lost cause. If Miller could elevate Dayne to the upper echelons of the Church, it would prove his Great Divination was credible, and this expedition would be worth his while.

By making Dayne choose for himself, Victor was actually testing Miller’s extraordinary power. If Dayne had chosen to report to the Church, then Victor would not have had to go to the Endless Forest, and the rest would be Miller’s headache.

Dayne’s decision to follow Miller’s arrangement was both unexpected and perfectly logical. It was incredibly difficult to make someone change their ingrained habits, yet in a short time, Dayne had resolved to forsake the Church’s strict hierarchy, keep Pope Clement in the dark, and follow Victor to the Endless Forest. This showed that his essence had not been corrupted by power, and that he had enough potential to become a Gold-rank clergy member in the truest sense.

Victor admired Dayne, but he marveled even more at Father Miller’s extraordinary vision.

He had thought Dayne was not up to the task, but Miller believed he was. That alone said it all.

“This is from Father Miller, for you.” Victor picked up a small chest from the floor, opened the lid to reveal the gentle glow of holy power crystals, and pushed it in front of Dayne. “Pack your personal belongings. We’re leaving immediately.”

Dayne seemed not to hear him. He walked forward in a daze, then, with a posture of extreme piety, cradled the Holy Crystal in his hands and knelt to pray in a low voice.

When his prayer finished, Dayne stood up, dusted off his knees, and clutched the Holy Crystal tightly in his hand. Full of vigor, he said, “Your Highness, I have nothing to prepare. I can leave right now.”

Looking at the eager fifth-rank priest, Victor felt a pang of regret. He actually wanted to stay behind and spend the winter with Sylvia.

Victor shook his head, banishing the weak thought from his mind. “Let’s go,” he said.

Chapter 748: Follower

The Great Marsh was a land of interconnected lakes and ponds, with islands scattered about like stars. Normally, it was a vast expanse of water with almost no discernible paths, making it incredibly difficult for humans to traverse. But during the snow season, the frigid air and incessant northern snows froze the marsh solid. By following the protruding islands, one could avoid the deep lakes and no longer needed to worry about falling through the more fragile lake ice.

At this moment, a long column of people snaked its way westward through the snow-swept Great Marsh. They used the snow-covered mounds as landmarks, with twelve Marsh Dragon-Lizards breaking the trail ahead. Each Dragon-Lizard pulled a sled-cart the size of a freight wagon, wrapped in waterproof oilcloth and so laden with goods that the thick flax ropes binding the cargo were stretched taut.

White mist plumed from the Dragon-Lizards’ nostrils as their powerful limbs easily plowed through the snow, which was over a foot deep. The heavy sled-carts rolled smoothly over the cleared path, leaving a distinct trail in their wake. Behind the Dragon-Lizard sleds, over a hundred elite soldiers marched in two columns. They were well-proportioned and agile, mostly around twenty-two years of age. Though each had a different face, their bright, clear eyes and composed demeanor were a shared characteristic.

These soldiers were well-armored, but their clothing was somewhat thin. The Great Marsh was freezing, yet they wore only a suit of six-legged crocodile hide armor, with a sheepskin cloak on their backs as their only protection against the cold. Their muscular arms and thighs were directly exposed to the bone-chilling air.

Most of them carried large, bulging campaign packs on wooden frames. Their specially made flat snowshoes crunched on the path packed down by the Dragon-Lizard sleds, leaving deep imprints that spoke to the immense weight of their packs. Yet, they moved with their usual agility, completely unaffected by the load.

Well-trained Vassal soldiers were also skilled at forced marches under heavy loads and could mostly achieve such a feat. Father Dayne knew, however, that these elite warriors, who braved wind, frost, snow, and rain, had been marching for a full day. They had covered nearly one hundred and fifty kilometers at a steady pace without a single stop to rest, even eating and drinking on the move.

Are the Randall family’s Secret Art Guards all monsters?

Sitting in his sled-cart, Father Dayne complained internally. He suspected these warriors could go on for another two days and two nights without issue and couldn’t help but compare them to the Sacred Warriors.

The Church currently had nearly one hundred thousand Sacred Warriors, but only eight or nine thousand of them were level four. They formed the backbone of the clergy’s armed forces, with a social status comparable to that of a Bronze Knight. Each level four Sacred Warrior could assist a battle priest and lead a squad of about ten Sacred Warriors.

Dayne didn’t actually know the combat strength of these Secret Art Guards, but judging from their luminous eyes and incredible stamina, he concluded they possessed the physical prowess of a Knight. From this, he deduced that a Randall Mystic Warrior’s individual strength was roughly equivalent to that of a level four Sacred Warrior.

Of course, the actual combat prowess of these Secret Art Guards was likely a bit weaker than that of a level four Sacred Warrior. It was like how the clergy insisted that level four Sacred Warriors were no match for mid-rank Bronze Knights, a claim the Knight-Nobles never acknowledged. Dayne similarly believed that no family’s Secret Art Guards could compare to a level four Sacred Warrior who had mastered strengthening divine arts.

However, he had to admit that these warriors were exceptionally powerful, and they had reshaped his understanding of Mystic Warriors.

The Mystic Warriors trained by Aerie Fortress were unparalleled in the present age. It was said that some Auguste Mystic Warriors possessed strength and agility on par with an initial-rank Knight; they could easily lift objects weighing over a ton and charge faster than a warhorse. His Highness Randall had a close relationship with the Auguste family, so it seemed reasonable that Aerie Fortress would train Mystic Warriors for him.

But Dayne didn’t think so, at least not in the case of the men before him. They were definitely not trained by Aerie Fortress or the York family.

When the column had set out, he had personally witnessed two Randall Secret Art Guards lift a fully loaded sled-cart—a vehicle weighing a full four tons. An initial-rank Bronze Knight could never effortlessly move a four-ton wagon. Only a mid-rank Bronze Knight who had resonated with eighteen Elemental Nodes could accomplish such a feat.

The strength displayed by the Randall Secret Art Guards had already surpassed the limits of ordinary humans, resembling the extraordinary power of a Ferocious warrior. Most level four Sacred Warriors, who had undergone body reconstruction three times, had not surpassed ordinary limits of strength; the majority only had the power of an initial-rank Bronze Knight.

Then there was the sheer number of Randall’s Secret Art Guards. The Gold-Eyed Earl’s expeditionary force had a total of over two hundred members, divided into four teams, and the main team alone consisted of over a hundred Secret Art Guards.

How could the House of Auguste possibly produce over a hundred Knight-level Secret Art Guards and give them to His Highness Randall to use as common soldiers?

If it were a cooperative arrangement, Dayne hadn’t seen any High-ranked Knight in charge, neither from Aerie Fortress nor the York family. Not a single one had come.

It was obvious that these warriors of extraordinary strength were His Highness Randall’s own secretly trained Secret Art Guards.

In truth, Dayne had already guessed the origin of the Randall Secret Art Guards. The Savage warhounds patrolling the column’s periphery, the eleven Dragon-Lizard war beasts, the bizarre Aberrant Beasts, and especially the four stunningly beautiful Dragonkin handmaidens with horns—the power they inadvertently revealed was even more terrifying than that of a Gold Knight. All this indicated that the Randall family’s Wizard, Imosen, could alter living beings, including humans.

Master of the Hunt Imosen was actually a Wizard kept by His Highness Randall?

Dayne was surprised by this, but what truly shocked him was Beldina. Like most people, he was fond of the innocent and endearing child, but he knew that Pontiff Clement had examined Bel’s soul with the Art of True Sight and had not discovered her wizardly nature.

Perhaps His Holiness the Pontiff knew the truth but, constrained by My lord Miller’s will, had deliberately played dumb.

Of course, if My lord Miller wanted to shield Imosen and Beldina, it was unlikely any member of the clergy could have detected their true nature.

Dayne still couldn’t be certain of Beldina’s identity as a Wizard. His Highness Randall allowed him to move about freely within the column, to observe, and to communicate with others, but the Highness himself would provide no answers.

The Raging Wind Sword Saint’s exact words had been: “You are not yet qualified to discuss the operational plan with me, so there is no need to ask me about irrelevant matters.”

This was understandable. His Highness Randall was doing his utmost to protect the integrity of My lord Miller’s art of prophecy, ensuring that whatever Dayne might surmise, it would not interfere with his judgment. Not unless Dayne could touch upon the mysteries of the Force of Destiny and become a true Gold rank extraordinary being.

Nevertheless, Dayne was convinced that Beldina was a key part of My lord Miller’s grand design to deal with the evil god.

For now, he had no intention of prying into the secrets of My lord Miller and His Highness Randall. His observations and thoughts stemmed from simple human curiosity.

As a scholar-priest of the Pontiff’s faction, Dayne considered himself more knowledgeable about Wizardry than most Wizards. After some observation, he discovered many things in the column that even Wizardry could not explain—there were simply too many Randall Mystic Warriors, Savage warhounds, and Marsh Dragon-Lizards.

Wizardry came in countless varieties, but after extensive research, the Radiant Church had categorized them into three main types: Elemental Body Wizardry, Mind Body Wizardry, and Transformation Body Wizardry. Since the elements, soul, and physical forms were closely intertwined, a Wizard’s innate Wizardry was usually a hybrid, but if broken down, their magic never exceeded these three domains.

Master of the Hunt Imosen was clearly a practitioner of the most common type, a Transformation Body Wizard. But the source of Wizardry lay in magical and spiritual power. For Imosen to alter life forms, he first had to control the target with his magic.

In other words, there was a limit to the number of life forms Imosen could alter and control. Dayne couldn’t believe that he could simultaneously control so many altered humans and animals.

The most plausible answer Dayne could conceive of was that the extraordinarily wise His Highness Randall had analyzed the principles of Imosen’s wizardry and developed a secret art for cultivating extraordinary warriors. The Church and secular lords had many similar examples; the Dragon’s Vein Potion that Sacred Warriors used to reforge one’s body also originated from Wizardry.

In any case, with over a hundred Knight-level Mystic Warriors guarding them, Dayne felt quite safe. His Highness Randall’s Dragonkin handmaidens, in particular, filled him with confidence for this expedition.

The column’s pace gradually slowed, finally coming to a halt on a flat stretch of ice between three small, snow-covered islands. Dayne poked his head out in surprise and saw Charlotte jump down from His Highness Randall’s sled-cart and walk toward the rear of the column.

“My Lady Randall, what’s happened?” Dayne left his own sled-cart and bowed to the blonde, green-eyed female knight.

The address “My Lady Randall” made Charlotte’s lips curl into a smile. “My lord Dayne, just call me Charlotte,” she said cheerfully.

The High-ranked Priest chuckled. “…We are all companions. My Lady Randall should just call me Dayne.”

The smile on Charlotte’s face grew even brighter. She nodded and said, “The Master has ordered the column to rest here. You may go to the island ahead to see him… I’m heading to the rear to see about setting up camp. Please excuse me.”

The sworn female knight curtsied and headed toward the back of the column with four sword-wielding handmaidens. Dayne looked up at the still-bright sky, frowning slightly, then walked toward the snow-covered island ahead, accompanied by his guards.

On the island, more than a dozen Mystic Warriors were busily clearing a site. They shoveled away the snow, swiftly dug several fire pits, and swung sharp blades to harvest the low-lying vegetation buried beneath the snow. In no time, they had cleared a large, flat area. Victor stood to the side, holding Beldina’s hand and laughing with several members of his entourage.

After a moment’s hesitation, Dayne stepped forward and bowed. “Your Highness…”

Before he could finish, a scorching gaze shot over from Victor’s left. It was the Dragonkin handmaiden named Alexia. She stared at the priest’s chest, the greed in her eyes burning like a roaring flame.

Dayne would never mistake the look as a sign of affection from this exotic beauty. Beneath his chestplate was the holy power crystal gifted to him by My lord Miller. It was a priest’s divine artifact, a sliver of the Supreme Lord’s radiance. Dayne would sacrifice his life before he would lose the Holy Crystal; this was the faith every priest must possess.

It was because the Dragonkin handmaiden coveted this Holy Crystal that Dayne had been forced to ride alone in the very last sled-cart, keeping as far away as possible from the Earl’s vehicle. Since they had set out, this was the first time he had met with the Earl.

Dayne clutched his chest, his hesitation making him look as if he’d been frightened by a vicious dog while visiting a neighbor. Victor was secretly amused. Laila was clearly a stunning beauty; she couldn’t possibly be compared to a vicious dog. Even if everyone was a little afraid of her, she was a beautiful and vicious Dragonkin handmaiden.

Thump.

After being flicked on the head by her master, Laila blinked her beautiful eyes. Her narrow vertical pupils transformed into round pupils like pure rubies, and she looked at Victor with a puzzled expression.

“I’m going to set up camp here for a few days. Go on, take a few Savage warhounds, patrol the surroundings, and mark our territory.”

Marking territory was one of the Dragonkin handmaiden’s favorite things to do. Laila curtsied and said in a sweet voice, “As you wish, my dear Master.”

These past few days, Victor, Charlotte, and Laila had been sharing a sled-cart. The Dragonkin handmaiden had learned Charlotte’s coquettish tone when addressing her master, but she didn’t know how to choose the right occasion for it.

Slightly embarrassed, His Highness Randall ignored the Dragonkin handmaiden and beckoned to Caligula. “Aka, take Bel to the lake to chisel ice and catch fish,” he instructed.

Caligula scratched the back of his head and said blankly, “Master, Aka doesn’t know how…”

“Imosen knows how to fish! Let’s go find Imosen!”

Bel, dressed in thick winter clothes that made her look like a ball, expertly climbed onto Caligula’s shoulder, grabbed his ears, and shouted excitedly, “Let’s go, let’s go… We’ll find Imosen to catch fish.”

The two remaining Alchemical warriors and three Griffin Militia members followed behind Caligula. These Alchemical humans had once followed Victor in the war against the Centaurs and had since awakened their wisdom. The Alchemical warriors, in particular, possessed a telepathic link combat instinct, making them superior to third-level Source-Blood Militia in both individual strength and emotional intelligence. Victor had granted Beldina command authority over these five alchemical units. They now served as the little Inspector’s Personal Guard, responsible for protecting her and handling odd jobs.

Seeing that Victor had sent his retinue away, Father Dayne lowered the hand that had been protecting the holy power crystal, took two steps forward, and asked conversationally, “Your Highness, it’s still early. Are we making camp here?”

Victor nodded. “We’ve been marching continuously for twelve days, with only four hours of rest each day. My soldiers have plenty of stamina, but the Camelopes need to rest.”

The expeditionary force had brought over a hundred Camelopes. These pack animals had strong bones and amazing endurance, two full sizes larger than the Camelopes from the Naville mountains. Each one was loaded with about six hundred pounds of cargo. Dayne, however, thought the Camelopes were of little use and were more of a burden to the group. The expedition could have moved faster and farther, but these Camelopes slowed them down. The supplies they carried were only one bag more than what the Randall Mystic Warriors carried, and most of their load consisted of their own fodder. There weren’t actually that many useful supplies.

Dayne smiled. “Your Highness, I was thinking it wasn’t really necessary to bring these Camelopes. The Randall family’s warriors have to spend time taking care of them.”

Victor shook his head. “In the winter, the animals in the Great Marsh are hibernating and the plants have withered. The resources we can gather are limited. These Camelopes are also cargo themselves. Though their meat is tough and tastes terrible, my Dragon-Lizards and warhounds are not picky eaters. Moreover, the surplus Camelopes can be used to bribe the Half-dragons up ahead.”

“Bribe the Half-dragons?” Dayne’s interest was piqued. He pressed, “Your Highness, do we have a Beast-tongue Shaman in our group?”

“Isn’t Imosen one?”

Dayne was taken aback. “So he’s a Mind Body wizard…” he murmured. “He can alter large Biological Aberrations, so I thought he was primarily a Transformation Body wizard… Your Excellency Imosen’s talent for Wizardry is truly powerful.”

Victor said with a faint, unreadable smile, “The Church secretly possesses a mature system of Mind Body Wizardry—or to be more precise, a Mind Body magic legacy—that can enhance a Mind Body wizard’s casting ability and magical power level. However, I would not be pleased to see Imosen become too powerful. Do you understand my meaning?”

“This… this is the first I’ve heard of it.” Dayne forced a wry smile and declared, “Your Highness, I assure you, I will never reveal your secrets to anyone, unless I have your tacit permission.”

Victor’s smile was faint. “Shared secrets strengthen our alliance. I sincerely hope that one day you will come to understand the secret magic legacy the Church has been developing. My lord Miller chose you to undergo destiny’s trial, and in the future, I too shall lend you my aid.”

Dayne pressed a hand to the Holy Crystal beneath his chestplate and bowed low. “I express my gratitude to Your Highness.”

Victor nodded, then turned to face the west side of the island. His gaze was deep as he said, “The route through the Great Marsh in ancestor Trigovar’s notes has long been obsolete. A few years ago, I sent several scouting parties to the Endless Forest to investigate the Ant-man lairs. The path we are now taking is the one traveled by the only scouting party that successfully crossed the Lizard Marsh. According to the intelligence they sent back, there is a Half-dragon tribe ahead.”

“I have already recalled the three guard detachments. We’ll stop here for now to rest and build up our strength. Let’s hope Imosen’s negotiations are successful… If not, then we will have no choice but to fight…”

“The Supreme Lord of Radiance is with us,” the High-ranked Priest intoned solemnly.

Victor clapped him on the shoulder and said with a smile, “I’m going to go pick someone up from the rear. The fellow has been following us for twelve days.”

More than ten kilometers from the expedition’s camp, Narsen had planted his two Adamantine beheading swords in the ground. He himself sat cross-legged in the snow, taking out some dried meat from his pack and chewing it carefully. Cherishing every bit of food was a habit of many years, and the experience of living and sleeping in the wild, enduring ice and snow, was a resilience carved into his very bones. He was like a lonely War Bear that never hibernated, letting snowflakes cover his body and frost form on his brows and eyelashes, all while meticulously savoring the food in his hands.

After downing two strips of tough, dried meat, Narsen casually scooped up a handful of snow and shoved it into his mouth. The moment he looked up, he caught sight of a slender figure standing in the wind and snow not far away.

He let out a loud laugh, grabbed his longswords, and shot forward. The thick layer of snow shattered beneath his war boots. The snowflakes on his shoulders and the frost on his eyebrows turned into a fine white mist that swirled around him, and the snow carried by the northern wind could no longer come near him. In the blink of an eye, he was before the newcomer.

“My lord… I came to see you off,” Narsen said with a chuckle, half-kneeling before Victor.

Victor looked his number one confidant over, raising his long, straight eyebrows in amusement. “Seeing me off for twelve days, eh? And you even used the Life Concealment secret art while traveling, thinking you could hide from me?”

Narsen habitually scratched the back of his head, just smiling without a word.

Although Narsen had acted on his own initiative, disrupting Victor’s arrangements and putting Nicole and Lilia in a difficult position, he had shown no concern for his little sister or his family. This fully demonstrated the most precious quality of a follower: Loyalty.

A warmth spread through Victor’s heart. He extended a hand to Narsen and said, “Let’s go… You haven’t had a proper meal in many days. I’ll take you for a bowl of hot fish soup. From now on, the task of providing emergency support for the team is yours.”

Narsen was overjoyed. “Thank you, My lord!” he declared loudly. “I, Narsen Randall, swear to follow my master’s side and be worthy of the trust you’ve placed in me.”

Chapter 749: Family Arrangements

At Rose Manor, in the distinguished guest reception room, Bishop Pello’s expression faltered for a moment when he saw Lady Katerina, her golden hair draped over her shoulders and her emerald eyes sparkling, walk in from a side door, holding the hem of her skirt.

Katerina wore a gold-trimmed Duchess’s ceremonial long gown and a pair of exquisitely crafted, shimmering gold high heels. Her posture was ramrod straight and her steps were light. The cinched waist of her gown accentuated the lovely curves of her body, while her pure emerald eyes were deep, yet ethereal and lively, displaying the poise and elegance of a noble lady without losing the innocent vivacity of a young girl.

Pello concealed his surprise and took the initiative to bow. “Lady York, congratulations on your advancement to Raging Wave Knight. May the Supreme Lord of Radiance protect you.”

Katerina was still very young, and resonating with thirty-six Elemental Nodes now was not necessarily a good thing. Unless she was confident she could leverage the Elemental Sea and prepare to charge towards the Gold rank, her soul could be easily influenced by the void element.

If a High-ranked Knight could regularly take the Blue Taro potion, none of this would be a problem. Unfortunately, Blue Taro was produced in very small quantities; even among the High-ranked Knights of the Centaur Hills, not everyone had a stable quota of the potion. As Katerina held great power in Goldwater City, Sylvia had prioritized her supply of the potion. This allowed her to resonate with thirty-six Elemental Nodes, gaining the power of a Raging Wave Knight while also being able to fully perceive the changes in the Elemental Sea, waiting for an opportunity to charge into the Gold realm. At the very least, she had a high chance of becoming half-goldenized.

The Blue Taro potion was far more tangible than the protection of the Lord of Radiance.

However, Bishop Pello’s status was not to be underestimated.

The Bishop of the Centaur Hills, a disciple of His Eminence Clement, and a sixth-level priest, Pello had visited Rose Manor suddenly, without any prior contact, to request a private audience with Lady Sylvia. This was enough to pique Katerina’s suspicion and interest.

“Your Excellency Pello, please just call me Katerina,” she said with a faint smile, taking her seat in the master’s chair of the reception room. Her voice was gentle as she asked, “Is there anything I can do for you, Your Excellency?”

She was not only a confidant cultivated by Sylvia herself but also shared a special relationship with His Highness Randell. It was said that Sylvia intended to match her with the Gold-Eyed Earl as an intimate partner. Although My lord Earl had not yet agreed, for the sake of political stability in the Centaur Hills, Pello believed this outcome was inevitable.

His Highness Randell needed Katerina’s full support to govern the Centaur Hills, and Duke York’s lineage, in turn, needed His Highness Randell to maintain their suzerain status.

Sylvia had been gradually delegating more power to Katerina to increase her importance in Victor’s eyes.

Now that Katerina held great power and had advanced to the rank of Raging Wave Knight, Bishop Pello was even more certain of this.

Seeing her act as the mistress of Rose Manor, Pello felt it was inappropriate to insist on a private meeting with Lady Sylvia. He said thoughtfully, “There is one matter… Father Dayn, the assistant priest of the Randell Diocese, has not reported on church affairs to me for fifteen whole days.”

The assistant priest of the Randell Fief’s diocese hadn’t reported to his superior, so why was Pello seeking out Lady Sylvia?

Suspicion arose in Katerina’s heart. She knitted her slender, willow-like brows, showing just the right amount of concern as she asked, “Your Excellency Dayn… has something happened to him?”

“He’s missing… I sent someone to the Randell Diocese, and the report came back that Dayn has been missing for fifteen days.” Pello’s expression was calm and impassive, yet it exuded a certain pressure. “My Lady, do you know where he is?”

If you don’t know anything, then go and get Her Highness Sylvia. Don’t waste everyone’s time… Bishop Pello’s body language made his attitude perfectly clear.

“The disappearance of a High-ranked Priest is a serious matter.” Katerina shook her head gently, not directly answering Pello’s pointed question. Instead, she countered, “I find it strange. Your Excellency Dayn has been missing for fifteen days, so why didn’t the resident priest, Miller, promptly report it to the Goldwater City large diocese? Why did you have to send your own people to the Randell Fief to investigate Father Dayn?”

Over the past few days, Miller had been reporting routine church affairs to the large diocese as usual, without a single mention of Dayn’s disappearance. Fortunately, Pello had an informant in the Randell Diocese, so he had discovered the anomaly immediately. As this involved the will of that great personage, Pello dared not act rashly. He followed the Church’s regulations, sending men to inspect the Randell Diocese through official channels. By the time the entire process was complete, fifteen days had passed, which was why Pello was now in a hurry to find Sylvia to discuss the matter.

He suspected that the God-favored Lord had initiated preventative measures against some unknown disaster.

Although Katerina was cunning, Pello was certain Sylvia had not told her of My lord Miller’s true identity. His expression grew stern, and his posture became firm as he said in a low, forceful voice, “Katerina, the disappearance of a High-ranked Priest is a serious matter. Please inform Lady Sylvia for me.”

Bishop Pello’s blunt words made Katerina realize that Dayn’s disappearance was more serious than a typical missing person case. Having gathered enough information, she stopped beating around the bush. In a serious tone, she said, “My Lady took Trisley to the Randell Fief this morning to see His Highness.”

“What?”

A Spirit Knight had the ability to distort the effects of the Great Divination. Pello was both shocked and frantic; his greatest fear was Sylvia interfering with that great personage. He had to go to the Randell Diocese now to prevent Sylvia from making things difficult for Father Miller. Mumbling a simple “farewell,” he departed in a hurry.

“My husband… your lover… your master. Where is he now?”

Sylvia crossed her long, slender legs, the tips of her delicate, snow-white feet swaying gently beneath the hem of her spider silk skirt. Her expression was one of languid melancholy, but as her gaze shifted from the empty high-backed chair beside her to Nicole, Lilia, and the Elina-Alice sisters standing respectfully, a sharp glint appeared in her pure, azure eyes.

Lilia, Elina, and Alice felt as if they were in an open field just before a downpour, with nowhere to take shelter. The oppressive atmosphere made it almost impossible for them to breathe.

Nicole took a step forward, shielding the three personal handmaidens of the Randall family behind her. Biting her lower lip with her pearly white teeth, she said in a somber tone, “I thought Victor had returned to Red Frost Tree Manor.”

Seeing Nicole’s sorrowful expression, Trisley couldn’t bear it and spoke up to Sylvia. “You can’t blame them. If anyone’s to blame, it’s Victor… He kept it a secret even from us. If I knew where he was, I would definitely drag him back to see you.”

Hearing this, Sylvia turned to look at Trisley, who was now pouting slightly. She let out a soft laugh and shook her head. “You’ll bring him back? It’s more likely he’ll whisk you away. Of course, that’s what you’re hoping for.”

Trisley’s cheeks grew slightly warm. She discreetly circulated a wisp of Aura and said calmly, “Whatever important matter His Highness needs to attend to… he is currently lacking a High-ranked Knight by his side. The York family must support the Guardian, and I am the most suitable candidate.”

Sylvia nodded. “Yes, but I believe My love has his reasons for concealing this operation from me. And he has surely left instructions to prevent me, or you… from ruining his plans.”

No matter how far her lover was, Sylvia could always know his location, but for the Raging Wind Sword Saint, this was a two-way connection. Nothing could lock onto him without him sensing it through his telepathy; the Elemental Sea of Wind revealed to Victor any spatial connections related to himself. This was the essence of the Nemesis talent.

Sylvia had known on the very day Victor entered the Great Marsh. When her lover had trekked through wind and snow for six consecutive days, she realized the situation was far from ordinary; Victor was not merely exploring the Great Marsh.

Sylvia’s arrival at the Randell Fief was timed precisely so that Trisley could catch up to Victor. If she had delayed by another three days, the heavy snow would have completely covered the expedition’s tracks, making it very difficult for Trisley to find Victor on her own.

Her husband had left home, and Sylvia was not the least bit worried about his safety. Still, she felt a little resentful, but she was more curious about what methods Victor would use to stop her from chasing after him.

This was a game between husband and wife, between the Raging Wind Sword Saint and the Spirit Knight. There was no need to tell Nicole and the three personal handmaidens. Sylvia just wanted to flex her authority as the mistress of the house.

Sylvia was quite pleased with her display of humanity. The thought that Victor was about to confess some secrets to her filled her with anticipation and excitement.

That rascal Victor, if your gift doesn’t satisfy me, I’ll definitely drag you back here… Sylvia thought to herself. Her piercing gaze softened, and the suppressed fire in the hearth blazed to life, filling the entire great hall with warmth.

“Where is Victor’s letter?” Sylvia asked lazily, leaning back against the high chair.

Nicole was the first to react, ordering an attendant to summon Jack, one of Victor’s most trusted Elite Guards. Reno and Shak had both left with Victor.

The first Lithe Ape militiaman had been staying at Silver Moon Manor for the past few days. Upon receiving My Lady Nicole’s order, he soon appeared before Sylvia. He bowed respectfully and properly, neither servile nor overbearing, completely unaffected by the Spirit Knight’s spiritual pressure. He presented a wooden letter box that had been prepared in advance and said deferentially, “Our mistress, the Master’s letters for the ladies are all inside.”

Trisley stepped forward and took the wooden box from Jack. Sylvia did not open it immediately. Her gaze was fixed on Jack, her pure blue eyes turning a dark crimson. Her spiritual power did not leak out in the slightest, concentrating entirely on the Alchemical militia.

This amount of spiritual power was enough to cause a Silver Knight a moment of dizziness, yet Jack remained perfectly still. Trisley, who deeply understood the power of Sylvia’s Mental Spike, was astonished by the performance of the Randall family’s Elite Guard.

“Your soul is powerful, but incomplete,” Sylvia commented.

Jack said, “Our mistress, I have nothing to say.”

Sylvia nodded pensively, then asked, “Including you, who do the remaining Elite Guards take orders from?”

“The Master left six Sourceblood Warriors for My Lady Nicole, three for My Lady Lilia, two each for Lady Elina and Lady Alice, and a total of fifteen for you and My Lady Trisley. I lead the remaining Elite Guards and we follow the commands of Lord Narsen.”

Jack paused for a moment before continuing, “In Lord Narsen’s absence, command is transferred to My Lady Nicole.”

Sylvia turned to Nicole with a smile. “It seems Victor predicted Narsen would follow him… Take a guess, do you think I’ll read the letters he left for you all first?”

Her eyes curved into crescents, her smile a mix of cunning and charm. Although she was asking Nicole, everyone present could clearly feel that My Lady was having a conversation with the distant Victor.

Sylvia’s words undoubtedly drew all the women present into the guessing game her lover had set up. Trisley had Jack the Alchemical militia leave the room and was the first to ask, “Are you going to read it or not?”

“You’d let me read yours first?” Sylvia’s smile grew even brighter as she retorted.

“No, I want to read mine first myself.” Trisley shook her head without hesitation. A letter from her lover was bound to contain sweet nothings that would make her blush and her heart pound; she had no intention of letting Sylvia steal that pleasure from her.

“To each their own.”

Sylvia opened the box and took out the letter lying on top. Then, several slender, fair hands reached in and took their respective letters.

The letter Victor left for Sylvia contained only a single, short sentence:

“My love, you know where I am, and you know where I have been. I will tell you everything when I return.”

After reading it, Sylvia couldn’t help but curl her lips into a sweet smile. Since her husband had gone on a long journey behind her back, she would of course have to confiscate the private savings the Raging Wind Sword Saint had secretly squirreled away. How else could she quell her resentment?

And where were these private savings hidden?

The obvious location was the Hill Secret Fortress, while the hidden one was in the Larkspur Mountains.

The collection of a Raging Wind Sword Saint was something to look forward to. However, since it was a Treasury established by a Raging Wind Sword Saint, the “obvious” Hill Secret Fortress was, in fact, the hidden one. Even if nothing could be found inside, it was only because ordinary people were unable to see it.

Sylvia could go to the secret vaults in Hill Secret Fortress and the Larkspur Mountains at any time, so there was no rush. She raised her head and looked at Lilia and the Elina-Alice sisters.

His Highness Randell’s personal handmaidens obediently presented their letters to our mistress. Lilia spoke first, “The Master wants me to send letters to the Wimbledon Marchioness’s residence periodically.”

“I am to send letters to Duchess Olivia periodically,” Alice said as well.

“I am in charge of sending letters to the Countess of Wimbledon and Young Lady Chapman in the Sasan Empire,” Elina said last.

These letters to his lovers had all been prepared by Victor in advance. Amidst the tender words of longing were the Gold-Eyed Earl’s diplomatic stratagems. The three personal handmaidens of the Randall family were each responsible for handling diplomatic affairs, so Sylvia couldn’t very well continue to make things difficult for them.

After Nicole finished reading the letter Victor had left for her, her expression gradually grew grave, even a little bewildered. She silently handed the letter to Sylvia, her eyes flickering as if she was about to make some kind of decision.

“The situation is a bit….”

Sylvia read the letter meant for Nicole, her brow furrowing and then smoothing out several times before she looked up and instructed Nicole, “The contents of this letter must not be shared.” Then, she added softly, “At present, the situation is not clear. We must wait for the first intelligence report from Victor before we can make a decision… whether to hold our ground or prepare to cross the river and develop new territory. That is why I will not allow you to advance to Silver Knight prematurely; this concerns your future. For now, there are many things we can do.”

“Yes.”

Nicole unclenched her fists. In the letter, Victor had not only described the situation with the Ant-men but had also clearly stated that he would rather his followers suffer casualties than see Nicole in danger. This was why he hadn’t told her in advance, and he sincerely begged for her forgiveness.

Nicole trusted Victor’s methods, but she still felt a little uneasy.

Over on the other side, while Sylvia was reading that letter, Trisley pressed her palms together, crumbling her own letter into an irretrievable powder.

Sylvia did not stop her. Her expression shifted from surprise to understanding, and finally to a composed smile. “It seems it has to do with me.”

Trisley was silent for a moment, then she gestured with her eyes for Nicole and the three personal handmaidens to leave the room.

After they had closed the door, Trisley waited another moment before saying in a low voice, “I want to go see someone… You… you have to promise me you won’t leave Silver Moon Manor before I get back.”

Sylvia cupped her smooth, fair cheek in her hand and said with a half-smile, “Are you afraid I’ll leave you behind and go find Victor myself? Alright, alright, don’t glare at me. I promise. To be honest, I was thinking of seeing that person on this trip as well, but now I’ve lost interest… My man has arranged everything. Even if I wanted to find that person, I probably wouldn’t be able to see him.”

Trisley’s expression flickered. “Why?”

“For no reason. It’s just very difficult.”

Sylvia stared at the leaping flames in the hearth for a long time, then sighed and said wistfully, “If I were to go see him, it would mean the situation was so critical that there was no other choice.”

Trisley bit her red lip and asked with difficulty, “Who… who is he, exactly?”

“I shouldn’t be the one to see him. You can go to him, ask anything you want to ask… Whatever his attitude, please treat him with respect.”

Chapter 750: Follow-up Plans

Trisley walked alone through the snow-blanketed streets of Laketon, without her retinue. Her peerlessly beautiful and refined face was hidden within a drab, gray, hooded cloak. An invisible spiritual power made the sparse pedestrians on the street automatically ignore this lone woman with her graceful figure. She rested a hand on the hilt of the Mithril sword at her waist, walking toward the town church without any interference, her delicate boots leaving a trail of faint footprints in the snow behind her.

The streets of Laketon were neatly planned, the houses orderly. Every blade of grass and tree, every brick and tile, bore the style of House of Randell—rationally planned, neat, orderly, and tastefully beautiful. After continuous expansion, the town already had the air of a great city. Once the magnificent and splendid Randell Cathedral was topped off, it could officially be renamed Lake City.

Would Lake City be the first capital city Victor built?

Trisley sighed softly, her gaze shifting away from the snow-covered cathedral.

Laketon was once one of the most remote towns in the human kingdoms, but now great lords and high-ranking members of the Church all believed in its limitless potential. Once the Gambis Kingdom’s strategy of expansion south of the river made progress, and with the convenience of Port Rose, Lake City would become the northern capital for the Centaur Hills region, and the child of Victor and Sylvia would be its noblest heir.

If the Ant-man monsters could truly burrow, and if they nested and procreated beneath the Centaur Hills, then this city, into which Victor had poured his heart and soul, would have no future to speak of. Even the entire Centaur Hills would decline day by day, marching toward death.

Compared to the fief and towns her family had painstakingly managed, Trisley was more concerned for the safety of Sylvia and Victor. Now, all her questions had to be answered by Father Miller, the resident priest of the Randell Fief.

When Trisley arrived at the Church, the townspeople had just finished their morning prayers. A dense crowd was surging out of the building. She moved against the tide of people into the Church, then took the spiral staircase behind the prayer hall up to the third floor.

This floor was the rest area for the Church’s clergy. An initial-rank priest and his attendant brushed past Trisley, yet they failed to notice a strange lady walking toward the room at the end of the corridor.

The oak door creaked open from the inside. Trisley walked in without breaking her stride, naturally entering the room to see the gray-haired, deeply-wrinkled old priest, Miller.

This was not her first time meeting Father Miller, the resident priest of Laketon. Miller had been invited to all the formal banquets held at Silver Moon Manor. Trisley had seen this plain-looking, ordinary-tempered old priest at the evening banquets of the House of Randell. Her impression of him was as if from the same mold as the old village heads in the Randell Fief—a relic from the most difficult period of Victor’s pioneering, whose own abilities were unremarkable.

Trisley could never have imagined that this seemingly ordinary old priest would be held in such high esteem by both Their Highnesses, Sylvia and Victor. But the fact that he had hidden his identity and lurked by Victor’s side since he was weak, right up until the present, infuriated her. She pulled down her hood and asked coldly, “Who exactly are you, Your Excellency?”

The Raging Wave Knightess of Rose Manor looked like a beautiful young girl, but when angered, she exuded a chillingly imposing aura. Miller sized her up with his murky eyes and admonished her in a calm tone, “That is not the proper way for a noblewoman to speak to an elder… As you can see, I am the resident priest of the Randell Diocese, a second-rank priest, Miller.”

Trisley fell silent for a moment, then reluctantly performed a curtsy, her voice as cold as ice. “I don’t care who you are, Your Excellency. You tricked my Lover, sending him on a dangerous venture into the Endless Forest to deal with the Ant-man monsters. If… if he doesn’t come back, I will make you pay.”

“Such a stubborn child,” Father Miller said, shaking his head with a smile. He turned, picked up a kettle from the stove, and poured Trisley a cup of hot water. Pointing to a stool by the table, he invited, “Please, sit. We can talk things over.”

The old priest was so calm and composed that Trisley suddenly found she wasn’t as angry anymore. She even felt ashamed of her earlier behavior.

…like a frantic, scorned woman.

She took the seat, her small, fair, and delicate hand wrapping around the piping hot cup. After a few seconds of silence, she asked, “Will Victor return safely?”

Miller didn’t answer directly. He only said, “Do you lack confidence in the Raging Wind Sword Saint? I know Victor wouldn’t think so. However, events can always take an unexpected turn. Ordinary people are often helpless in the face of the unexpected, but His Highness Randell is not so lacking that he can’t even protect himself. He has probably already taken any accidents into account.”

Miller raised his cup, took a light sip of the hot tea, and continued, “Powerful beings always want to shape the future into their desired outcome, and they are often capable of doing so. In reality, the authority His Highness Randell wields is no worse than the Great Divination. The Randell Fief, the man-made water systems, Laketon—these are all the best proof. I personally witnessed Victor transform a barren wilderness into a prosperous fief; digging canals, opening up farmland, building castles, fortresses, and a church, and then this town.”

Trisley lifted her pure, pale blue eyes and said, a sharp edge to her voice, “Are you His Holiness the Pope?”

“Obviously not.”

“You just mentioned the Great Divination,” Trisley said, looking the Spirit Priest straight in the eye without flinching.

The Raging Wave Knight was accusing the Spirit Priest of using the Great Divination to control her Lover. Father Miller felt a headache coming on. If he were talking to Sylvia, she would surely understand the limitations of the Great Divination. But Sylvia would not come to meet the God-favored of the Lord of Radiance, and he was unwilling to speak face-to-face with a Spirit Knight—at least, not now. So, he had to deal with a young wife taking her anger out on others because her husband had left home.

“I thought I just explained that His Highness Randell has his own ‘Great Divination’…”

Miller muttered, then retorted, “Fine. Do you agree that I used the Great Divination to make Victor into the Raging Wind Sword Saint?”

Trisley was instantly speechless. If it was Miller’s Great Divination that had raised Victor to the Saint realm, then no one could object to him directing the Raging Wind Sword Saint to go to the Endless Forest and eliminate an unknown disaster. On the other hand, if the Raging Wind Sword Saint was not influenced by the Great Divination, then going to the Endless Forest was of his own will and had nothing to do with the old priest.

Trisley could not possibly admit to the first, so she could only tacitly accept the second.

“You’re actually blaming me, a servant of the Supreme Lord, for pushing the responsibility of Redemption onto your Lover, aren’t you?” Miller explained with a smile, “Perhaps you can understand it this way: His Highness Randell is smarter than I am. He is the one who makes the decisions; I merely cooperate with him, and I have already done my utmost.”

Hearing the old priest’s words, Trisley sighed silently. She admitted that Victor was not a lord who could be manipulated. Even Sylvia couldn’t control him, let alone this wrinkled, shabby old man before her.

“Victor’s letter mentioned a ‘resurging Ancient God’… He believes that thing poses a threat to Sylvia. Your Excellency Miller, you must know something about it, right?” the Raging Wave Knightess asked respectfully, suppressing the worry and sorrow in her heart.

Miller’s expression turned serious. He pondered for a long time before nodding. “I still cannot comprehend His Highness Randell’s theory about a ‘resurging Ancient God’… When an old tree stump sprouts a new shoot, it can be snapped off with a flick of the wrist. Can it still be considered the same old tree?” He paused, then continued, “The future has infinite variations; I cannot know them all. In the future I have seen, Lady Sylvia is not there… The Great Divination should not be used on a Spirit Knight; that is not within the Supreme Lord’s authority. Likewise, I cannot use the Great Divination on a Sun Elf. But is His Highness Randell a Sun Elf?”

“I have done everything I could. The power to decide now rests in the hands of humanity’s most powerful extraordinary being. I can no longer see anything clearly… As for the outcome you desire, you must achieve it yourself. You need not worry about the Great Divination.”

Miller took a sip of water and said flatly, “The water is no longer hot. Please leave.”

Trisley rose gracefully, bowed to the Spirit Priest, and took her leave. Just before she left the room, she suddenly looked back and asked curiously, “Your Excellency, who are you, really?”

Miller gave a self-deprecating smile and shook his head. “Have you ever heard the saying… that the Church is always hiding some ‘old monsters’?”

Trisley furrowed her lovely little brows and asked in confusion, “Who said that?”

“…Victor did.”

After leaving Laketon, Trisley went directly to the House of Randell’s Hill Secret Fortress. She found Sylvia in a cavern on the second level.

Dressed in a white gown, Sylvia stood with one hand resting on the stone platform in the middle of the cavern, like a moonlit orchid blooming silently in the night, beautiful and lonely. Trisley’s heart trembled. She instinctively stepped forward to take Sylvia’s other slender hand and said softly, “I believe Victor will come back.”

Sylvia turned her eyes and smiled, and the dim cavern seemed to brighten considerably. She asked softly, “I originally planned to have you stay in the Randell Fief and take over Silver Moon Manor… What about now?”

Trisley hesitated for a moment, but finally shook her head firmly. Cradling Sylvia’s arm, she said stubbornly, “I want to be with you. Wherever you go, I’ll go.”

“Afraid I’ll run off to find Victor?”

Sylvia placed a light kiss on Trisley’s smooth, full forehead. She raised her willow-like brows and asked, “What did the old man say?”

“He was being cryptic. It was like he said everything and nothing at the same time.” Trisley pursed her small, rosy lips and said disdainfully, “He just explained that he didn’t influence Victor’s will, only that he cooperated to the best of his ability.”

Sylvia nodded and asked again, “What did Victor write in his letter that made you change your mind and decide you have to keep an eye on me?”

“The Ant-man colony is related to a resurging Ancient God… Victor believes that a Spirit Knight is the natural enemy of a resurging Ancient God. He’s worried you’ll provoke the Ancient God and make things spiral out of control.” Trisley looked up into Sylvia’s eyes and said seriously, “I also trust my husband. He’s so clever… Don’t go looking for him. He will definitely find a way to solve the problem. We’ll wait for him to return in the Centaur Hills.”

A smile played on Sylvia’s lips, her gaze as deep and endless as the night sky. She sighed softly, “The Endless Forest is a forbidden place in my heart. The Elves live there… Just as Victor worries for my safety, I’m afraid he’ll be seduced by some elven queen or princess and never come back. That’s why he had to keep this expedition from me at first…”

“Your Highness is the most beautiful woman in the world. How could some elven queen or princess possibly compare to you?” Trisley shook her small fist, lifted her chin proudly, and joked, “You have to have some confidence in yourself.”

Sylvia covered her mouth and laughed, her body shaking gracefully. “Of course. Victor will definitely come back. If an elven queen dares to seduce my husband, I will absolutely go and slaughter her.”

Trisley knew Sylvia was not joking in the slightest. Trying to steal a husband from a Spirit Knight was definitely courting death.

Sylvia changed the subject. “Have you noticed anything special about this place?”

Before Trisley could answer, she said with a serious expression, “Balance… I have never seen the four elements converge in balance in the natural world. And the point of convergence… is here.”

With a light push of her jade hands, the large stone platform immediately shattered into pieces. Rocks of different shapes scattered across the floor.

Trisley’s eyes widened. She hadn’t realized at all that the seemingly solid stone platform had been pieced together. And there was nothing inside—at least, neither her sight nor her elemental perception had detected anything unusual.

Sylvia’s long, graceful index finger pointed to a spot in the air as she explained, “The point where the four void elements converge in balance is precisely the center of the stone platform.”

“There was an ancient wondrous object here… My love took it.”

Trisley asked in astonishment, “What ancient wondrous object?”

Sylvia shook her head, thought for a moment, and then said, “The first time Victor entered this cave, he suddenly lost consciousness… Thinking back now, it wasn’t because his vigor was depleted from awakening his Wind Walk talent, but because he inherited an ancient will.”

“Will? Are you saying an evil god chose Victor?” Trisley asked anxiously, a look of distress on her beautiful face.

“A will is not the same as a living being.” Sylvia chose her words carefully as she explained, “We set rules for our families and point them in a direction, and our inheritors a thousand years later will still follow them. That is our will… I suspect the ancient will Victor inherited is even older than the Era of the Chosen, from a lost, great civilization. They could transform a person’s soul—the Secret Art Guards of the House of Randell came from this, as did the rock bricks, Blue Taro, Gold Restoration Potion, and so on. They are all masterpieces of that ancient civilization, and they also have an intricate connection with Knights.”

Trisley was stunned for a moment and muttered to herself, “So Victor is the inheritor of an ancient knightly civilization… No wonder he’s so exceptional.”

“Darling, you’ve gotten one thing wrong.” Sylvia lifted her impeccably-curved chin, her eyes shimmering with emotion as she said proudly, “My love is more exceptional than any ancient knight. I knew he was extraordinary the first time I saw him. He has the most unique soul, and that uniqueness has never changed.”

Trisley’s heart skipped a beat. She pressed, “Are you saying Victor isn’t being controlled by that ancient will?”

“Of course,” Sylvia said with a smile. “The Force of Destiny may have influenced him, but he is the Raging Wind Sword Saint, the sovereign of his own mind and Bloodline. He has a jigsaw puzzle woven from the Principles of the world—that is the source of his power. The more he knows, the stronger and more perfect he becomes. This is The Path that His Highness Randell has forged for himself. That’s why he’s going to the Endless Forest to meet the Ant-man Queen and the resurging Ancient God. It is absolutely not because he is being manipulated by Miller or some ancient will.”

Trisley was finally at ease. Her face flushed slightly as she whispered, “We still have to do something to help our… Victor.”

Sylvia said with a grin, “What do you think? Did he leave any signposts for his family to follow? Victor surely has a meticulous plan, one that even anticipated our reactions… Can’t you see that? My goodness, you’re so worried about your husband that you’ve lost all perspective. I’m starting to get jealous of Victor.”

Trisley suppressed her shyness and said, “I haven’t seen any plan he made.”

Sylvia pressed a hand to her smooth forehead and groaned, “You silly girl. How can you make a comprehensive plan without understanding the opponent’s situation? But the Raging Wind Sword Saint has already gone ahead. What else do I have to worry about? I am Victor’s follow-up plan.”

Trisley blinked and said, “But we still need to connect with him. What about a way to contact him?”

Sylvia’s eyes lit up, and a smile of anticipation touched her lips. “We’ll go to the secret fortress in the Larkspur Mountains now. I’m guessing there are many surprises waiting for us there.”

Chapter 751: Their Own Methods

In the Knight’s Hall of the mountain stronghold, Sylvia sat on an iron throne, absentmindedly flipping through a pile of documents and letters Victor had left behind.

At the foot of the throne’s dais, Trisley and Nicole were huddled together, studying a Thorium heavy crossbow. They discussed it with great excitement, letting out pleasant, silvery sounds of amazement from time to time.

“The Thorium heavy crossbow’s power is much greater than the military heavy crossbow, but it’s too difficult to draw. An ordinary Vassal soldier would have trouble winding the string. This is a powerful weapon designed for a level-2 Source Blood warrior.”

“Even a level-2 Source Blood warrior would still be too slow at drawing a Thorium heavy crossbow. A level-3 Source Blood warrior, an initial-rank Mind Warrior, would be about right… The question is whether Thorium can be mass-produced. If it can, this wondrous material will have many more uses than just making military heavy crossbows.”

“It definitely can. Victor purchased soft silver ore to build the city walls of Laketon and Raven Town. He started stockpiling Thorium ore long ago. And the Standard Battle Crossbow he had the craftsmen design can pierce armor within eighty meters, but it requires the metal prods to be forged from Dragonbone Steel. Master Edwen thought the Standard Battle Crossbow was too expensive to be practical. If he had known Victor had Thorium, he certainly wouldn’t have said that.” Nicole caressed the Thorium Ant-man armor she wore, her eyes filled with delight.

The Thorium armor she wore was beautifully crafted and fit her perfectly; it was without a doubt something Victor had designed with great care. Trisley was also wearing a suit of dual-silver armor that Victor had custom-made for her, but hers was made of Water Lizard hide infused with Thorium and Mithril. Although it was more attuned to the void water element than ordinary Mithril armor, the material itself was inferior to the Silver-rank Ant-man carapace.

Nicole’s Thorium armor was bright and pristine, clearly forged from a wondrous material. In terms of appearance alone, Trisley’s Thorium armor was slightly inferior to Nicole’s. However, an Extraordinary Knight was not suited to wear Thorium Ant-man armor with its Elemental Resistance, whereas the dual-silver Water Lizard armor was especially suited to the needs of a high-ranking female knight.

However, Nicole had two sets of Thorium armor: one suit of Thorium Ant-man armor for a senior knight, and another of Thorium Water Lizard armor for a high-ranking female knight.

Trisley only had one suit of dual-silver armor. She couldn’t help but feel that Victor was playing favorites, but given her status as Nicole’s Tutor, it wouldn’t be appropriate to roll her eyes at her own student over one less gift.

Seeing the corners of Nicole’s lips curl up, Trisley couldn’t resist chiding her, “The critical issue is the smelting process for Thorium ore and the forging process for Thorium equipment. If the production of Thorium is lower than that of Dragonbone Steel, it can only be used as a rare wondrous material and won’t bring the family a significant strategic advantage.”

Nicole shot Trisley a triumphant glance and raised a fair hand to summon the Steward of the mountain stronghold. “Busuo, what is the refinement ratio of Thorium ore? And what is the infusion ratio of Thorium needed to forge a piece of Thorium equipment?”

“My Lady,” the Alchemical auxiliary soldier Busuo introduced matter-of-factly, “the refinement ratio of Thorium ore depends on the quality of the ore. The current refinement ratio at the mountain stronghold is approximately one hundred thirty-five to one. The infusion ratio depends on the material it’s being infused into. It’s highest for stone, followed by wood, then various metals. Organic materials like leather have the lowest infusion ratio. For example, the ratio for Water Lizard hide is only ten to three.”

The dual-silver Water Lizard armor required so much Thorium… Nicole almost laughed out loud. As for the fact that a lower infusion ratio was actually better, she paid it no mind.

“And the infusion ratio for the Thorium Ant-man armor?” Trisley asked in a cool voice.

“Less than ten-to-two, but higher than ten-to-one.”

“Oh, so it’s that little.”

Nicole could no longer smile. Her eyes met Trisley’s for a fleeting moment before they both looked away. A sour scent seemed to spread through the great hall.

Sylvia couldn’t care less about the clash between two pots of jealousy. The mountain stronghold Victor had built in secret was beyond her imagination, which also made her exceptionally furious.

The fortress, built from sturdy rock bricks deep within the Larkspur Mountains, was surrounded by mountains on three sides and faced a cliff on the fourth, making it both majestic and hidden. No one could mistake this fortress for a simple stone building. It had storehouses, barracks, beast pens, farmland, an ironwood workshop, a potion laboratory, mountains of grain and supplies, and even raised thousands of fat, big-eared pigs. Relying on this fully-equipped fortress, Victor had brought thousands of square kilometers of mountain forest under his control. He even used the Beast-tongue Shaman, Imosen, to enslave Goblins and open up the Swamp Forward Base, continuously extracting all sorts of swamp resources from the Great Marsh.

The dozen crystal candlestick chandeliers hanging from the ceiling of the Knight’s Hall were proof enough that the mountain stronghold was overflowing with wealth, not to mention the Adamantine, Mithril, and various other rare treasures hidden in the Treasury. It had taken Sylvia a full hour just to look through the ledgers; she hadn’t even had time to glance at the knowledge and technical documents Victor had ordered transcribed.

Thorium was undoubtedly the mountain stronghold’s most precious wondrous material. Its practical significance could be compared to that of the Gold Potion and rock bricks—or more accurately, it was even more valuable to the Centaur Hills. Because Thorium military equipment had substitutes, it wasn’t a sensitive resource like rock bricks. It was like the Friedrich family’s Dragonbone Steel; by falsifying costs and production numbers, they could control the scale of trade and achieve a technological monopoly, bringing the family a long-term strategic advantage.

“Is the Thorium Integration technology in here?” Sylvia asked the fortress Steward, pointing to a pile of scroll storage boxes nearby.

“Our mistress, there are no technical scrolls related to Thorium in here,” Busuo replied with a bow.

Hearing Busuo’s answer, Trisley forgot about her bickering with Nicole and asked coolly, “Why not?”

“No comment,” the Alchemical auxiliary soldier responded without expression.

Although the Thorium Integration technology was priceless, Victor had already put Thorium on the table, so there was no need to worry about it flying away. The fortress Steward, Busuo, was clearly another human modified by Victor using an ancient wondrous object. His soul was fragmented, and interrogating him would yield no results. Sylvia was now more concerned about where the wealth generated by the mountain stronghold was going.

If Victor hadn’t left the Centaur Hills, she could have turned a blind eye. But since he was on an expedition to the Endless Forest, there was no telling when he would return. Over time, the vast, latent power that came with such wealth would inevitably spin out of control.

This was something Sylvia could not tolerate. She raised a hand to stop her Sworn Knight from questioning the Steward further and said with a captivating smile, “Tell me, when do you think Victor built this mountain stronghold?”

Nicole and Trisley exchanged a glance and, after a moment of hesitation, said uncertainly, “It must have been some years ago…”

Busuo only heard his lady’s question and answered without even thinking, “Construction on the mountain stronghold began twelve years ago.”

“Twelve years ago… That was during the outbreak of the Ant-man plague. Victor was secretly building a castle in the Larkspur Mountains.” Sylvia snorted. “He was guarding against me, and he’s been doing it all this time. The detestable man!”

Nicole and Trisley both fell silent. After a moment, Trisley spoke up to placate her. “It was normal for Victor to be wary of us back then. He probably kept it a secret because he was afraid of making you angry… See? Now that he’s slipped away, hasn’t he told us about everything here?”

“Our mistress, are you angry with the Master?” Busuo asked abruptly.

A thought stirred in Sylvia’s mind. She nodded. “Yes, I am very angry.”

As expected, the fortress Steward elaborated, “If you are angry, the Master has a gift for you. Please wait… You, go and bring the gift the Master left for our mistress.”

A fortress guard acknowledged the order and departed. Not long after, he returned to the Knight’s Hall with a long box, which he respectfully presented to Sylvia on the throne.

She reached into the box and took out a four-foot-long rapier, or rather, an unsharpened, single-handed thrusting sword. It was dull and unremarkable, its only decoration perhaps the four identically sized element crystals—yellow, red, blue, and green—inlaid in the hilt.

But when Sylvia grasped the hilt, her expression changed. With a flick of her wrist and a slight push, the rapier sank silently and without resistance into the hard floor tiles. Snow-white frost immediately spread out and condensed around the point of entry, and the temperature in the great hall plummeted, turning it as cold as an ice cellar in an instant.

Nicole’s eyes widened. She hadn’t seen Sylvia manifest any void elements, but the Queen of Roses’ thrust clearly displayed the erosive and freezing properties of the void water element.

“Is this… Nachtigal’s ‘Black Sword’?!” Trisley exclaimed. Seeing Nicole’s questioning gaze, she collected herself and explained, “The ‘Black Sword’ passed down through the Nachtigal family can be traced back to the Era of the Chosen. It is said to be a wondrous divine sword that accomplished the feat of slaying a Dragon. It can transmit void elements directly, unlike a Mithril sword which manifests them. That’s how it was able to bypass a Dragon’s Elemental Resistance and kill it… The Nachtigal family not only slayed a Dragon with the Black Sword, but during the end of the Era of the Chosen, they followed the first Pope Inoc and rebelled against the tyranny of the Wizards, earning great renown with the ‘Black Sword’.”

“It’s no secret that the ‘Black Sword’ was forged from Black Gold, but the method for refining Black Gold was lost long ago… To think that Victor has rediscovered the Black Gold forging method,” Trisley said with no small amount of envy.

Sylvia’s smile was like a blooming flower. She caressed the rapier gently and asked, “This is actually a spearhead. Where’s the shaft?”

Busuo stepped forward and answered, “Our mistress, Saronite Demon Iron Ore is extremely rare, and its refinement ratio is very low. The Saronite Demon Iron stockpiled at the mountain stronghold was only enough to forge this spearhead. Since the source of the Saronite Demon Iron Ore from the Great Marsh has been cut off, we are currently unable to forge a matching shaft for you.”

Sylvia nodded and said with a smile, “I will write a letter to Victor and tell him that I am very pleased with his gift… You may all leave.”

After Busuo and the fortress guards bowed and left the Knight’s Hall, Sylvia finally gave her instructions to Nicole and Trisley. “I have two requests… First, the intelligence regarding the Ant-man King’s invasion must not be leaked under any circumstances, to prevent hundreds of thousands of tenant households from fleeing the Centaur Hills. We will also refrain from taking any unnecessary actions. All plans and arrangements must wait for Victor to send back intelligence and directives before they are made and implemented… I have a feeling the Ant-man plague won’t break out in the Centaur Hills.”

She paused, then continued, “My second request: in a year at most, news of His Highness Randell scouting the ant-men in the Endless Forest will have spread, but he may not return for two or three years, or even longer. To prevent certain powers from setting up a scheme against Lilia, I am taking her back to Rose Manor to assist Catelyn with managing the Double-Headed Dragon Merchant Association.”

Nicole’s heart tightened, and she began to argue, “But, I need Lilia here…”

“No ‘buts’,” Sylvia cut her off coldly. “Just because I like the gift Victor gave me doesn’t mean I forgive him for going to such lengths to guard against me back then. Hmph, secretly building the mountain stronghold was one thing, but he even traded Mithril and Adamantine with the Chapman family… Besides, Thorium is a matter of great importance. Lilia is in charge of the soft silver ore trade between Laketon and the Chapman family. Even if she’s unaware, I must have someone else take over and gradually cut off the soft silver ore trade to avoid arousing suspicion.”

Her tone softened slightly as she brandished the letter in her hand. “Victor plans to use the mountain stronghold as the Eagle School’s base. Red Frost Tree Manor will concentrate its resources on developing the Eagle School Apostles first and foremost. I will also send people to assist you.”

Lady Sylvia was ruling with both grace and power, and Nicole was powerless to object. She could only nod in silent agreement. But having lost the protection of His Highness Randell’s wings, she felt her own weakness and secretly resolved to advance to Silver Knight.

Sylvia saw through Nicole’s change in mentality as if it were a blazing fire. It was not the best time for Nicole to advance to the extraordinary rank, but compared to the vast, latent power Victor had painstakingly built up outside of the Randall family, Sylvia could not, under any circumstances, feel at ease leaving it in Lilia’s hands.

Lilia had ignited her fire of the mind but was still weak, completely incapable of commanding an underground force that spread across the human kingdoms. In truth, Sylvia had never approved of Victor taking all the mountain folk from various regions under his wing. No matter how careful he was, his tracks would eventually be exposed over time, provoking a strong backlash from the local lords. Battles to uproot these Moles and wipe out their villages would be unavoidable. Worst of all, the mountain folk strongholds were scattered everywhere, far beyond the York family’s reach. Once the mountain folk clashed with the local lords in bloody conflict, it would only drag Victor into one vortex after another.

Moreover, the mountain stronghold now had no income. The drying up of this source of wealth would lead to an operational crisis for the organization. The first thing Sylvia thought of was the mountain folk re-establishing contact with local lords for their own survival, which would quickly expose the underground armed organization Victor had built.

To deal with the worst-case scenario, the Centaur Hills needed the full support of the lords of various kingdoms. They absolutely could not provoke the public wrath of the lords at this critical juncture.

Sylvia had already secretly resolved to cut ties between the mountain folk strongholds and the Centaur Hills as soon as possible. The scattered strongholds were actually of little use, and she couldn’t afford to support these people anyway. Rather than spending a fortune to painstakingly maintain them, it was better to concentrate their resources and strengthen the Centaur Hills’ own armed forces.

When His Highness Randell was around, he could do whatever he wanted. Now that he was no longer in the Centaur Hills, Sylvia could only handle problems her own way.

She did not have the Midas touch, so she had to cut her losses in time.

Trisley understood this reasoning and avoided the topic of Lilia, asking, “Doesn’t our army need to prepare for battle?”

“Prepare for battle… by the time the ant-men enter the Centaur Hills to build their nests, it will be too late.” Sylvia sighed faintly, toying with the rapier in her hand. She raised her flawlessly beautiful face and broke into a smile. “I’m not going to the Endless Forest. I will put an end to the Ant-man King on the grasslands west of the Great Marsh.”

“My guess is, My love is currently planning how to get a human army through the Lizard Marsh. He may have to come face-to-face with the Hydra Lizard.”

Chapter 752: Battle Preparations

Caligula, holding a long spear of refined iron that glinted with a blue light, walked across the frozen surface of a deep lake in the Great Lizard Marsh. He selected a spot, nodded to himself with a simple, honest smile, and used the sharp spear tip to jab the hard ice several times. The small holes he made formed a perfect circle one-and-a-half meters in diameter.

Then, the colossal, burly man stomped on the center of the circle. With a squelch, the icy lake water, squeezed by the breaking ice, sprayed out from the cracks. Aka’s movements were surprisingly nimble; the instant he stomped through the ice, he slid to the side. Not only did he avoid getting his boots soaked by the gushing water, but he also applied a clever force, flipping the circular block of broken ice over.

Without looking back, he thrust his spear behind him, catching the flipping block of ice perfectly on its tip. A slab of ice, a full half-meter thick and the size of a round table, was thus effortlessly lifted from the water by Aka. It rolled away with a spin, leaving a deep, circular well in the pale blue lake ice.

By the time Brandon and Klaus arrived with several light-armored guards, the work was done. Klaus directed the guards to spread out bags woven from dry reeds on the ice and then poured a special bait made by Imoson the Wizard into the ice well. They then used long-handled nets to stir the water continuously.

With nothing else to do, Brandon clapped Caligula on the arm in admiration. “Hey, Aka, that ice-breaking move just now was truly impressive.”

Aka had a simple personality and loved being praised. He puffed out his chest and said proudly, “Aka made all these ice holes. Aka made lots of good ice holes, and will make even more and better ones. You guys fish, Aka will go make ice holes.”

He picked a direction and ran off excitedly, the three-meter-long refined iron spear looking comically small in his huge hands.

Brandon chuckled twice, then suddenly felt a pang of disappointment. As an initial-rank Bronze Knight who had ignited his fire of the mind, he was perfectly capable of opening an ice hole just like Caligula. But Aka was always able to avoid the weaker layers of ice and drill his wells in the spots most abundant with fish.

Caligula was the most efficient at breaking the ice, leaving Brandon to do the grunt work of fishing with the guards. This was particularly frustrating for him, having just become a Bronze Knight. He was eager to show off his skills but couldn’t find a suitable opportunity.

“Hey, Brandon, don’t just stand there daydreaming. Hurry up and help catch fish,” Klaus said, tossing him a long-handled net. “Once the scent of the bait fades, this hole will only be good for angling.”

The wizard’s bait was working. Countless fish swam to the opening of the well, gathering in such numbers that the view inside, a dense mass of vertically pointing fish heads, was almost unnerving. Large fish over a meter long leaped out of the water one after another, landing on the ice and flopping about vigorously. The sound of their tails slapping the ice was like a lively round of applause.

Klaus and the light-armored guards had no time to pick up these fish that delivered themselves to their doorstep. They took turns wielding their long-handled nets, scooping fish out of the ice hole with all their might.

Brandon joined the fishing crew, muttering, “There’s no end to the fish in this lake. We’ve already caught nearly seven thousand pounds in half a day.”

“That’s not even enough for one meal for the Dragon-Lizards… The Savage warhounds and Bear-Dogs are big eaters too,” Klaus analyzed as he netted fish. “I estimate we’ll have to fish for three straight days before the war beasts’ and Mind Warriors’ stamina is back to its peak.”

Brandon emptied a full net into the dragnet, then paused, asking with anticipation, “Say, do you think we’ll end up fighting the nearby Lizardmen tribes?”

Klaus was taken aback. “You want to fight the marsh Half-dragons that badly?” he asked, stunned.

“Heh heh, since we became Knights, we’ve only killed those cowardly, weak Goblins. We haven’t faced a decent opponent yet… Don’t you want to test the strength of the Half-dragons?” Brandon retorted, draping an arm over Klaus’s shoulder.

Klaus, also a young man, was somewhat swayed by Brandon’s words. But after a moment’s thought, he shook his head. “The Master probably won’t fight the Half-dragon tribes. I can’t see any benefit in it. The moment those Half-dragons dive into the water, we’re helpless. If we can’t completely shatter their fighting force, they can ambush our dromedaries transport teams at any time, even causing combat losses among the family’s elite… The Master’s target is the Ant-man monsters in the Endless Forest. We shouldn’t be losing people here.”

Brandon admitted Klaus’s analysis made sense, but he said stubbornly, “I think the Master wants to fight the Half-dragon tribes.”

Klaus asked curiously, “What makes you think so?”

Brandon had just been speaking off the cuff. He glanced at the plump red catfish in the dragnet, and a flash of inspiration struck him. “At this time of year, the female fish all have roe. Fishing on this scale will definitely affect the livelihood of the Half-dragon tribes for the coming year. They won’t just let it slide… The Master is a great scholar, how could he not know this? By telling us to fish, he was already preparing for war with the Half-dragon tribes.”

Klaus pondered for a moment, then nodded. “You have a point, but the Half-dragons’ Savage state ratio is one in seventy. That means a nearby tribe of about nine thousand would have at least one thousand dire Half-dragon warriors.”

Brandon gripped the hilt of his sword, his gaze resolute. “The Half-dragon tribes have some strength, but we have the Master and the four Ladies, plus the two huge monsters raised by Imosen… The Half-dragons don’t stand a chance.”

Klaus looked at Brandon with a strange expression and nodded. “Exactly. Dire Half-dragons have a danger sense. Do you think they’d still dare to run over here and get themselves killed?”

Brandon’s high-spirited expression immediately fell. He stammered, “Well, you never know, beastmen are all pretty stupid…”

“How about we make a bet?” Klaus said with a mischievous grin. “Unless you’re afraid of losing.”

Brandon, though lacking confidence, put on a brave face. “Who’s afraid of losing? What’s the bet?”

“Whoever loses has to eat nothing but red catfish for three consecutive days. No other food, just red catfish.”

The marsh red catfish was tender and boneless, but Brandon was sick to death of eating it these past few days. In fact, apart from Aka, the four Dragonkin handmaidens, and the family’s Elite Guards, everyone else flinched at the sight of red catfish.

Brandon frowned and said fiercely, “Fine, you’re on.”

As the two were talking, a series of cheerful, loud barks came from the distance. A Bear-Dog with a coat of pure white fur was bounding toward them. It was a size larger than the Randall Savage warhounds, nearly as big as a spotted tiger. Its full muscles rippled under its glossy fur, creating a fluid, beautiful aesthetic—the beauty of power and agility, the very thing that distinguished a dire hound from an ordinary canine.

The gleaming white fangs outside its muzzle and its blood-red eyes indicated this was a warhound in a Deeply Savaged State, possessing the rare Bloodlust talent. Yet, it lacked the imposing majesty of the Randall Savage warhounds. The long tongue lolling out of its mouth, wagging from side to side, looked quite comical, yet it was full of confidence.

Brandon and Klaus recognized this comical and confident dire warhound. It was the first Bear-Dog of the House of Randell to enter a Savage state. Only three and a half years old, it was “White Bread,” raised by Beldina.

The story of Beldina and “White Bread” was a favorite tale among the attendants of Silver Moon Manor.

A few years ago, Imosen, the Master of the Hunt for the House of Randell, had been breeding Bear-Dogs based on guard hounds and sentinel hounds. Every litter of Bear-Dog pups had to pass his strict screening, with all failures being culled. Among them was a white pup that had been abandoned due to its conspicuous fur and weak constitution. Fortunately, Beldina had picked up the poor but lucky white puppy and taken it back to Silver Moon Manor to raise as a pet.

The Savage state ratio for warhounds bred by lords was generally one in two hundred, and a Deeply Savaged State was a matter of pure luck. Imosen claimed the ratio for his Bear-Dogs was one in one hundred and twenty, but everyone thought he was just bragging—none of the guard hounds or sentinel hounds he had previously bred had ever entered a Savage state. But who could have guessed that the white Bear-Dog Bel brought back would enter a Savage state, and a Deeply Savaged State at that, just by mooching food and acting cute around the manor?

Normally, an ordinary person could never handle a dire warhound. They were ferocious by nature, scorning the weak and only docile and obedient to a powerful master. But “White Bread” of Silver Moon Manor was friendly to everyone, completely unaware of its status as a dire warhound. If the other Bear-Dogs weren’t terrified of it, no one would ever believe “White Bread” was a powerful, savage beast.

“White Bread” was Beldina’s shadow. Wherever Bel went, it went.

The two young Knights could already see Beldina hiding behind “White Bread.” She was clinging to the dire warhound’s tail, wearing ice skates, and letting the big dog pull her swiftly across the ice. In the blink of an eye, she had slid right up to the ice hole.

Brandon, with quick eyes and hands, scooped up the shouting, chubby girl. He spun elegantly in place twice to dissipate the powerful inertia of her charge, then set her down on the ice and asked with a grin, “How could our ‘Little Queen’ leave her guards behind and run off secretly?”

Bel’s nickname at Silver Moon Manor was the “Little Queen.” She ruled over all the kitchens, dining halls, food storerooms, and orchards—anywhere food could be found. “White Bread” was her lackey, Aka was her Grand Vizier, and the young attendants who hadn’t come of age were her most loyal Partisans, which of course included the children from outside the manor.

Brandon and Klaus had, without exception, sworn fealty to the “Little Queen” Beldina and received many extra snack rewards from her.

After Master of the Hunt Imosen’s identity as a Wizard was exposed, Brandon and Klaus still felt some aversion toward him, but they couldn’t bring themselves to dislike the little shamaness Beldina. If there was anything that could relieve their stress during the journey, it was fooling around with Bel.

Wearing ice skates, Bel was suddenly much taller. She raised a hand to measure up her two former playmates, then quickly put her hands behind her back and nonchalantly skated two circles around them. Glancing back, she said proudly, “The guards Master gave Bel are all idiots. How could they beat me in a skating race?”

Several Mind Warriors were running over at full speed. Klaus glanced at “White Bread,” who was sniffing around everywhere, and thought to himself: The truth is they can’t outrun a dire warhound.

“Why is it all red catfish? Are there any tasty white-finned fish?” Bel asked dejectedly, peering into the ice hole.

“There were a few… er, now there aren’t.”

Hearing this, Bel turned her head to see her big dog picking a plump white-finned fish out of the dragnet. She immediately yelped, “White Bread! You greedy thing, that’s my fish… Oh, forget it, it’s all covered in your drool. You’re disgusting.”

“White Bread” wagged its tail furiously at Bel, then lowered its head and swallowed the fish it had just spat out whole.

Klaus said, “There aren’t many fish left in this hole. We’re getting ready to drag these back first, then head to another hole Aka opened.”

After repeated netting by the light-armored guards, the red catfish in the ice well had thinned out, and the dark water below was visible. Bel knelt down and said in a nostalgic tone, “The big fish with long teeth that I love to eat… its roe is as big as lizard eggs, and so delicious.”

“The big fish with long teeth? You mean the Fanged Tiger-Fish… that’s a top-tier ingredient,” Brandon said with a smile.

“…And a top-tier predator,” Klaus added, calling out irritably as he organized the dragnet, “Hurry up and lend a hand. Standing there slacking off is not one of the Virtues of a Knight.”

Brandon shook his head and went over to help with the fish. “White Bread” also helped them, picking up fish scattered on the ice and dropping them into the dragnet. Beldina, being short and weak, fell three times just trying to move two live fish. She gave up and started skating circles around the ice hole, chanting, “Red catfish is not tasty, Bel wants to eat the big fish with long teeth.”

Suddenly, “White Bread” dropped a flopping red catfish. Its drooping ears pricked up, and it shot forward, grabbing Beldina’s fur coat in its mouth and leaping more than ten meters away from the ice hole.

Brandon felt the ice tremble slightly and shouted, “Bel, watch out!”

With a boom, a huge black shadow burst out from the ice hole. The half-meter-thick ice shattered and flew in all directions. Through the spray of water, Brandon saw a Fanged Tiger-Fish, well over five meters long, leap from the lake. Its razor-sharp teeth glinted as it descended toward “White Bread” and Beldina.

Brandon let out a great roar. His sharp longsword, forged from Adamantine and Thorium, flew from its sheath, tracing a sharp, silver-gray arc as it slashed furiously at the mid-air Fanged Tiger-Fish.

Someone was faster.

A stream of indigo light flashed past Brandon, shooting straight for more than ten meters and precisely piercing the eye of the Fanged Tiger-Fish.

It was Klaus with a spear thrust. The most common and simple Thrust combat technique was incredibly powerful in his hands. It was like a bolt of lightning, unstoppable. The refined iron spear vibrated with a bee-like hum, scrambling the Fanged Tiger-Fish’s brains and pinning it dead to the ice.

Brandon sheepishly sheathed his sword and gave a thumbs-up to Klaus, who was standing on the fish’s body. “A senior knight is really something else. I have to commend you on that strike… it was magnificent.”

Klaus glanced at Beldina, who was riding back on the dog’s back, and said with a restrained smile, “The Fanged Tiger-Fish may be the hegemon of the deep lake, but on land, it’s just a high-grade ingredient… It couldn’t have hurt Bel or ‘White Bread.’ I was afraid you’d slice its belly open and spill all the roe.”

Brandon smacked his lips and muttered in a very low voice, “I’m so tempted to take a Gold Potion, resonate with twenty-four Elemental Nodes, and become a senior knight myself.”

The news that Klaus and Brandon had captured a Fanged Tiger-Fish caused quite a stir in the camp. It was common knowledge, and everyone was full of anticipation. After all, there were only a handful of actual humans in the expedition.

In truth, it wasn’t that people hadn’t eaten much red catfish these past few days, but that they had caught far too many. They lay in piles on the ice, being devoured by the Alchemical Dragon-Lizards, warhounds, Bear-Dogs, and Imosen’s Aberrant Rats and Aberrant Apes. The sight alone was enough to ruin one’s appetite.

The Alchemical militia weren’t picky; they just washed the red catfish, boiled it, and ate it. But the others, even if they weren’t Nobles, had some dignity to maintain. Since the expedition’s supplies were plentiful, they wouldn’t stoop to fighting with war beasts for the same food.

The meat of the Fanged Tiger-Fish was coarse and had a strong, fishy taste, making it less palatable than the red catfish. However, the Fanged Tiger-Fish was one of the few dire animals that even ordinary people could chew. Not only was its meat rich in nutrients, but its roe was an extraordinary ingredient with an affinity for the water element.

Cooking a Fanged Tiger-Fish was a great test of a chef’s skill, and Caligula’s culinary arts were second to none. There were very few powerhouses who had mastered the Touch of the Mind, and he was the only one who dedicated it solely to cooking.

Just watching Caligula’s culinary performance was a treat. With top-tier ingredients and a top-tier master chef, no one wanted to miss out on a grand Fanged Tiger-Fish feast.

This was also the first time Aka had cooked a Fanged Tiger-Fish. He treated it as a test of his culinary skills and brought out his absolute best.

Caligula’s solemn demeanor piqued Victor’s interest. He was, after all, the founder of the new culinary arts, the creator of the master chef profession. Even Caligula’s skills had been taught by him, step by step.

The news that His Highness Randall was going to compete with Caligula in a cook-off pushed the camp’s atmosphere to a climax. Everyone, including the Dragonkin handmaidens and the sword-wielding handmaidens, brought out folding chairs to serve as judges.

The result of the competition was a foregone conclusion. Victor won by a large margin. All the judges, except for Aka and Beldina, cast their votes for him.

However, when Victor personally tasted Aka’s creation, he was speechless for a long time. He knew that his own culinary skill had lost to the big simpleton.

The food Victor prepared was exquisite and delicious to the extreme, but it lacked a certain charm compared to the fish skin and bone soup Aka had simmered. Victor’s fish feast had only one ultimate flavor that left an incredibly deep impression, but Aka’s fish soup, though seemingly bland, seemed to suit everyone’s palate.

Of course, the judges were biased toward the Gold-Eyed Earl, but the more fundamental reason was that they were all a bunch of utter freeloaders, not true gourmands, unable to distinguish between high and low culinary skill.

Victor publicly announced that Caligula was the true winner and asked everyone to give him a standing ovation. Aka, who had been squatting on the ground, tears and snot running down his face, burst into happy laughter. He hugged Beldina and did several consecutive somersaults.

He could jump five or six meters high with a single leap. Imosen watched from the side, heart pounding with fear, while Dayne took the opportunity to offer some reassuring words. The Archwizard and the High-ranked Priest of the group had finally broken through their psychological barrier and started to chat.

The Dragonkin handmaidens, of course, were not convinced of Aka’s victory. They could sense their master’s intentions but still wanted to teach Aka a lesson.

Victor promptly defused the Dragonkin handmaidens’ malice, sending them to patrol the camp’s perimeter for the night watch.

With the four imposing figures gone from the camp, the atmosphere of the evening banquet became even more harmonious. The Ferocious warriors, Knights, priest, wizard, sword-wielding handmaidens, and a few veteran Elite Guards were able to break down the barriers of their class perceptions and communicate freely, truly getting to know one another.

As the evening banquet neared its end, Victor asked Brandon and Klaus, “Beldina said she wanted to eat a Fanged Tiger-Fish, and then a Fanged Tiger-Fish broke through the ice and jumped out. Is that what happened?”

Brandon nodded and replied, “Yes, My lord.”

“I felt some movement under the water, but that was after Bel spoke. I cannot be certain if there’s a special connection,” Klaus then explained.

Victor turned to Imosen, who quickly stood up and said, “My lord, the bait I prepared can attract many kinds of fish, including red catfish and Fanged Tiger-Fish. Because the red catfish are the most numerous and travel in schools, they can push other fish away from the ice hole… A dense school of catfish could have attracted the Fanged Tiger-Fish. I think it must have been a coincidence, right?”

A coincidence? Was White Bread also a coincidence? Bel’s ability involves a Law of Fate and possesses a pattern that can be exploited, Victor thought to himself. He glanced at Father Dayn, who was staring off into space, then changed the subject. “I’m preparing to set up defenses here and fight a battle with the nearby Half-dragon tribes.”

Imoson the Wizard’s eyes widened in astonishment. He said hesitantly, “My lord, I’ve already negotiated with the Half-dragon tribe’s envoy. They’ve agreed to let us pass and will not harass us.”

“I know.”

Victor smiled and nodded, his gaze deep and resolute. In a calm tone, he said, “Whether they agree or not, I will fight them.”

Chapter 753: Combat Objective

His Highness Randall’s tone revealed an unshakeable will. The carefree Aka and Bel had already run off to play with “White Bread” earlier. The rest of the people had their own thoughts and questions, but no one was willing to be the first to speak. The atmosphere of the feast fell silent for a moment.

Seeing this, Charlotte stood up and directed the sword-wielding handmaidens and guards to clear away the remnants of the feast, extinguish the cooking braziers, and replace them with small, pre-prepared charcoal tea stoves. She thoughtfully poured a cup of piping hot mushroom tea for everyone and spread a roughly sketched topographical map on the joined wooden tables.

Narsen was not one for indecisiveness. When Victor said they would defend their position and fight the nearby Half-dragon tribes, he immediately began to ponder the comparison of their strengths and their respective combat conditions.

The nearby Half-dragon tribes had a total population of around ten thousand, divided into a dozen or so smaller clans, occupying a territory of about eight thousand square kilometers. Among them were at least one Gold-rank dire Half-dragon chief and over twenty Silver-rank Half-dragon leaders. There were also more than two hundred Deeply Savaged Half-dragon warriors, approximately seven hundred dire Half-dragon warriors, and over six thousand adult Half-dragon hunters.

A population of ten thousand with over six thousand warriors was not normal. However, the Half-dragons had just been through a bloody battle. The composition of the tribes had been reshuffled; the old and weak Half-dragons had either stained the marsh with their blood or been driven by their own kind into remote areas, while the strong young were adopted by the victorious tribes. This would allow the Half-dragon population to grow stronger over time.

For this Half-dragon tribe to occupy a territory on the edge of the Great Marsh’s core region was a testament to their formidable strength.

In addition, the Half-dragon tribes had domesticated over three hundred Marsh Serpent Fiends as helpers. These swamp-born monsters were also known as Petrifying Lizards. They were about the size of a spotted tiger and just as ferocious, but their physiques were even tougher. Although they weren’t particularly agile beasts, legend had it that the Serpent Fiend’s eyes held a deathly magic; anyone who met their gaze would lose their life. In reality, Serpent Fiends possessed the bloodline talent of Elemental Stasis. Their gaze could slow the flow of elements within their prey’s body, causing the prey to gradually stop thinking and become motionless, as if petrified.

The Serpent Fiend’s bloodline ability was quite weak; an ordinary person would only fall victim to it after prolonged eye contact. Nevertheless, over three hundred Serpent Fiends were still a force to be reckoned with.

This intelligence had been confirmed by His Highness Randall. Even if there were discrepancies with the actual situation of the Half-dragon tribes, the difference would not be significant.

People generally believed that the swamp Lizardmen were relatively weak and timid beastmen, but that was only in comparison to other beastmen. And the physique of beastmen was clearly superior to that of humans. The average adult Lizardman stood 1.7 meters tall, with tough skin that offered protection akin to leather armor. Their strength surpassed that of an ordinary able-bodied man, and they also had an advantage in speed and stamina.

The Marsh Half-dragons, having inherited a faint dragon bloodline, were much stronger than their Lizardmen relatives—the difference was like that between an Elite Soldier and an ordinary militiaman.

In recent years, His Highness Randall, in his capacity as a Great Scholar of the Silver Spire, had corrected the descriptions of Lizardmen and Half-dragons in monsterology.

In truth, Half-dragons and Lizardmen were the same type of beastman. Due to the bloody battles, the victors remained in resource-rich areas close to the legendary Hydra Lizard. Not only did their bodies become stronger, but their bloodline talents also awakened further. They became the Marsh Half-dragons.

Humans generally operated on the fringes of the Great Marsh, encountering only Lizardman exiles. These outcasts had lost their territories and their confidence in battles against their own kind. Terrified, they deliberately avoided human sight, which was what created the ingrained impression that Lizardmen were weak and timid.

The difference between Lizardmen and Half-dragons was vast, as if they were two entirely different kinds of beastmen.

The cause of this strange phenomenon was likely related to the Hydra Lizard, but this would require deeper research to yield new knowledge.

The average height of a Half-dragon exceeded two meters. Their strength was twice that of an ordinary human, and their tough skin was like a layer of scale armor. They also possessed bloodline talents for underwater breathing, Dynamic Vision, Self-Heal, and regenerative dormancy. Half-dragon hunters were particularly skilled a using javelins, able to easily strike fish in the water. Hitting moving targets on land was even less of a challenge for them; they were practically perfect marksmen.

Narsen admitted the Half-dragon tribes would be tough opponents, but that was all. In fact, no one here was worried that the elite forces of House of Randell would lose to a group of swamp crawlers.

They couldn’t even forge a proper iron rod, their primary weapons being polished stone javelins.

The expeditionary force led by the Raging Wind Sword Saint had six Gold-rank extraordinary beings, two Silver-rank Ferocious warriors, fifteen Silver-rank Marsh Dragon-Lizards, one hundred and eighty Bronze-rank Mind Warriors, fifty-five veteran Elite Guards, forty skilled craftsmen, as well as forty Savage warhounds and fifty Bear-Dogs. Even the sword-wielding handmaidens, who did not participate in combat, possessed the strength of initial-rank apprentice knights.

Beldina might be the only person in the group with no combat ability, but His Highness Randall’s expeditionary force was more than capable of protecting one little girl.

As for Imoson the Wizard, Narsen was a little unsure of his strength. Imosen’s own martial skills were mediocre and he lacked courage, making him far from a qualified warrior and devoid of the air of an extraordinary powerhouse. However, the two giant ape monsters Imosen had raised made Narsen feel a deep sense of dread.

One of the Aberrant Giant Apes was named Philip II. It stood 3.4 meters tall, weighed over four thousand pounds, and was a mass of gnarled muscle, looking like an enlarged Bear-headed Goblin. Its head, elbows, knees, chest, and back were covered in hard, tortoise-shell-like armor. Two ant-mandible-like fangs protruded horizontally from its bloody maw.

Even wearing Thorium Ant-man armor, Narsen had no desire to be bitten by it. The giant ape monster’s explosive power was also terrifying; Narsen suspected it could match a berserk Ogre chief in strength.

The other Aberrant Giant Ape was an agile-type monster, about 2.7 meters tall and weighing over eighteen hundred pounds. It was a chimera of a Mountain Ape, a marsh viper, a Half-dragon, a shadow spider, and a Giant Python. Its entire body was covered in tough, keratinous scales that could change color to match its environment. It had sharp arthropod bone blades on its wrists and two long, python-tail-like tentacles extending from the back of its head. The hollow bone spurs at their tips could release a deadly venom. It could also spit an extremely sticky mucus at its target, which quickly turned into corrosive spider silk upon contact with the air.

This Aberrant Giant Ape’s name was “Philip III.”

Neither Philip II nor Philip III were to be trifled with, which made Narsen curious if there had been a Philip I. Imoson the Wizard told him that the former two-headed Dragon-Lizard Itugos had been named Philip.

Narsen fell silent at that. He had witnessed the might of Itugos—a creature whose level of life simply couldn’t be categorized by Gold, Silver, or Bronze.

Clearly, Philip II and Philip III possessed the same growth potential as the two-headed Dragon-Lizard Itugos.

With his incredible Wizardry, Imosen’s status in the expeditionary force was even higher than Father Dayn’s, second only to His Highness Randall. Even Narsen occasionally fantasized about asking Imoson the Wizard to modify him as well.

Of course, it was just a passing thought. No one was truly willing to abandon their human identity and be enslaved by a wizard.

Imosen lacked shrewdness. He couldn’t understand why, when the nearby Half-dragon tribes had already agreed to let the Randell Expeditionary Force pass, My lord Earl still wanted to fight them.

“My lord, why are we setting up a defense against the Half-dragon tribes here? I doubt they have the courage to attack our camp,” Imosen asked falteringly.

Haha, this guy is so dense… Everyone present was laughing inwardly, their ears pricked up, eager to hear how His Highness Randall would explain the reason for the battle, or how he would reprimand the rash wizard.

Victor’s strange, dark gold eyes swept over the crowd as he said with a smile, “You’re all curious about my decision? Let me put it this way: I will not allow the Ant-man monsters to invade my Centaur Hills. I intend to establish a stable logistics line that can support the grand armies of the kingdoms through the marsh to the plains in the west… That is my pre-determined battlefield. The human allied forces will intercept the Ant-man Legion on the Great Plains.”

“Come, have a look.” Victor raised a crystal lantern, illuminating the map on the table. “My scouts have explored the nearby terrain, but this is only a very small area. The rest is still blank… A small team can pass through here, but a legion of several thousand, or tens of thousands, cannot.”

“The nearby Half-dragon tribes fear the strength of our expeditionary force and have agreed to let us pass through their territory, but I need the Half-dragons to guide the kingdoms’ armies through the Great Marsh. This is not a matter one tribe can decide, and I don’t have the energy to persuade every Half-dragon tribe to cooperate with me one by one.”

“Before the Forest Centaurs migrated, they would cross the Great Marsh every fifteen years to intercept the Ant-man invaders on the western plains. If the Forest Centaurs and the Marsh Half-dragons could reach a consensus, then we must do the same.”

Victor had no intention of telling anyone about Beldina cracking the code to shut down the Elemental Rune Crystal. He had also seriously considered the possibility that the plan to eliminate the Ant-man queen might fail and the consequences that would follow.

Intercepting the Ant-man invaders outside the Centaur Hills was the preferred plan. Father Dayn deeply agreed with this. He gave Imosen a thoughtful look, gradually beginning to understand His Highness Randall’s line of thinking.

This Beast-tongue Shaman was a key figure; he could communicate with the Marsh Half-dragons. However, the Half-dragon tribes were insular and primitive. It would be useless for the wizard to negotiate with the nearby tribes alone, as other Half-dragon tribes would not recognize their promises.

So, what did His Highness Randall plan to do to reach a consensus with the numerous Half-dragon tribes?

“My lords, the route we are currently taking is based on intelligence provided by the family’s scouts. It is only suitable for a small number of elites to pass through,” the young Klaus said, stepping forward and pointing at the map. Having been promoted to senior knight with the help of a Gold Potion, his physique was well-proportioned and fit, and his composure was steady. His words carried a convincing power. “Other than this path, we know nothing about the terrain features and monster distribution in other areas. If the nearby Half-dragon tribes fear our strength but harbor ill intentions towards us, luring us into some deathtrap would be the worst possible outcome.”

He looked up at Imoson the Wizard and said in a low voice, “Your Excellency, promises from the Half-dragons based on negotiation alone cannot be trusted. We must demonstrate our strength and resolve to the Half-dragons, to fill their hearts with fear, so that they won’t dare to harbor any wicked thoughts against us.”

The young knight’s single sentence shut down the wizard’s idea of solving the problem through simple negotiation. Imosen nodded silently and smiled, a little embarrassed.

Klaus continued, “The three small islands we are on are connected end-to-end, forming mutually supporting positions, which is particularly suitable for defensive warfare. As long as we set up small ballistae on the high ground of the islands, it will be difficult for the Half-dragons to inflict significant casualties on the family’s soldiers. Therefore, the Master intends to force the nearby Half-dragon tribes to attack us, while we stand ready, minimizing our own casualties and teaching those swamp crawlers a harsh lesson.”

Brandon asked in surprise, “Didn’t you say earlier that the dire powerhouses among the Half-dragon tribes can foresee danger, and that they fear the Master’s power and wouldn’t dare to attack us proactively?”

“Hehe, that I don’t know,” Klaus chuckled, then said righteously, “The Master surely has a way to make the Half-dragon tribes walk to their deaths.”

“I can’t make the Half-dragons walk to their deaths,” Victor interjected with a laugh. “But if we linger on their territory, how can they not try to drive us away? Are the resources here so abundant that they can support fifteen Marsh Dragon-Lizards and several hundred outsiders?”

Then, his expression turned serious. “The Half-dragons have no king, but the tribes that serve the same Hydra Lizard must have some sort of pact among them. Otherwise, how did the Forest Centaurs reach a tacit understanding with the Marsh Half-dragons? By not attacking proactively and adopting a passive defensive strategy, we are ourselves adopting a negotiating posture. At the very least, the more distant Half-dragon tribes have no conflict of interest with us. They will not fight us to the death for their nearby brethren; they will only send a small number of warriors to assist their allies. Once they discover they cannot expel the outsiders by force, we can begin formal negotiations with the representatives of the various Half-dragon tribes. The Ant-man monsters are our common enemy with the swamp natives. I believe they will make the right choice.”

Victor’s gaze turned sharp and chilling, though his smile remained elegant. “If the Half-dragon chiefs are foolish enough to misread the situation, it won’t be difficult for us to break out, but I will give them a brutal lesson.”

“Your Highness is wise,” Father Dayn praised sincerely.

Victor looked around at his followers, his eyes landing on Klaus. He nodded and said, “You will command this defensive battle. Let me state my terms first: if the attacking enemy numbers less than one thousand, my handmaidens and I will not participate in the battle. For every thousand enemies beyond that, two Dragonkin handmaidens will join the fight. Only when the number of enemies exceeds three thousand will I personally take action.”

This was the tactic of boiling a frog in warm water. Victor thought for a moment and added, “Lady Mewen is an exception. She is a Dragonkin handmaiden with an affinity for the wind element and excels in mobile warfare. I will assign her to you. You can command her to deal with the Silver-rank leaders among small groups of Half-dragon attackers.”

Klaus stood ramrod straight, struck his chest plate with a clenched fist, and said in a firm voice with shining eyes, “Klaus will prove worthy of the trust you have placed in me, My lord!”

Victor nodded in approval and turned his gaze to the eager Narsen, smiling. “Klaus and Brandon have been learning battle command from you for several years now. Give them more opportunities for real combat. This time, in this defensive battle, you will not interfere. You will be solely responsible for protecting Father Dayn and Imosen.”

Narsen laughed heartily. “Alright, I’d also like to see Klaus’s and Brandon’s skills in real combat.”

“Caligula is responsible for protecting Beldina… Imosen, isn’t it time your rats were put to use?” Victor asked, turning to the wizard.

Imosen slapped his chest and said proudly, “Rest assured, Master. I brought over three hundred red-eyed rats. In just five days, I can turn fifty of them into Aberrant Rats the size of Bear-Dogs and form a fighting force.”

The Aberrant Rats cultivated by Imosen were a relatively mature type of Aberrant Beast. They had flat heads, wide mouths, and sharp teeth and claws, possessing considerable combat strength. However, the number and size of the Aberrant Rats were limited by the wizard’s spiritual power and the supply of flesh. Imosen could currently control just over ninety Aberrant Rats, and he had to reserve some vigor to control his two Aberrant Giant Apes.

It was impossible for Victor to have Imosen use an indefinite swarm strategy, but as long as the wizard managed his time well, he could replenish fifty Aberrant Rats each day to act as cannon fodder, thereby reducing the expeditionary force’s casualties.

Of course, this required an ample supply of flesh to allow dozens of rats to undergo aberration simultaneously.

Victor nodded and instructed Charlotte, “Catch as many fish as you can in the next few days… I think the Half-dragon tribes will not be able to sit still for much longer.”

Chapter 754: The Hydra Attacks

Klaus and Brandon, the two young Knights, were serving as commanders for the first time. Brimming with enthusiasm, they brought their utmost skill to the task, striving for perfection.

The combat structure of the Randall Expeditionary Force was composed of eighteen standard squads. Each squad was led by three experienced Randall Elite Guards—a corporal and his deputies—commanding nine Mind Warriors and accompanied by two Savage Warhounds and three Bear-Dogs.

They served as both combatants and laborers.

Commander Klaus first had them coordinate with the craftsmen in their ranks to build temporary fortifications based on the surrounding terrain. The elite warriors of House of Randell cleared the snow from the islets and formed it into large bricks, which they used to build low ice-and-snow walls around the depression between the three islets. This enclosed a safe zone, preventing attackers from cutting directly into the heart of their defensive line while also allowing mobile units to move safely and quickly between the three islets, providing timely support to any one of them under pressure.

Daphdilier and Daphgriel, the two beautiful and bewitching Dragonkin handmaidens, revealed their true forms before the others for the first time. They transformed into their three-meter-tall Dragon-forms and spewed frosty dragon’s breath, freezing the two low walls of packed snow into solid ice.

Everyone stared, dumbfounded. The Dragonkin’s forms were graceful yet majestic, and the extraordinary power they displayed surpassed that of a Legendary-rank Raging Wave Knight. And yet, these four powerful Dragon Ladies identified as His Highness Randall’s personal maids, obeying their Master’s every word.

What was truly frightening was the Gold-Eyed Earl himself. His resources and heritage were unfathomable, like a myth made manifest.

The core members of House of Randell were both terrified and delighted. Father Dayn, however, was secretly troubled. He had previously read through the Church’s collection of notes from the Chosen, and one ancient stone tablet vaguely described a pact that had once been forged between the Elves and the Dragons. For some unknown reason, however, the pact between the two sides had been broken.

Dayn now believed this must be related to the Sun Elves. The ancient Elves had called the Sun Elves the Children of God, the common sovereigns of all elves. If a pact truly existed between the ancient Dragons and Elves, it must have been signed between the Sun Elves and the Dragons, for they were both mythical beings.

No one dared to ask Imosen the Wizard about the origin of the Dragonkin handmaidens behind His Highness Randall’s back, but that didn’t stop them from letting their imaginations run wild. Father Dayn knew many ancient secrets, and he was certain that old man Miller had led him into a mythic event. It was fraught with danger and opportunity, but also a responsibility that a clergyman must shoulder. If he could bear this heavy burden, he would surely be rewarded by the Supreme Lord.

However, His Highness Randall’s connection to the Elves made the situation exceptionally sensitive. Dayn suspected that the four Dragonkin handmaidens were not merely the result of Wizardry; they likely had backgrounds tied to the Elves as well. This ancient, wise race had once been the hegemons of the world, so no extraordinary means they possessed would be surprising—and the Sun Elves were simply too important to them.

If His Highness Randall went to the Endless Forest and was spirited away by the Elves, Dayn felt his own end would be tragic. But there was nothing he could do by worrying now; he could only take things one step at a time.

Klaus did not overthink things. After the ice-and-snow walls were complete, he began to assign defensive forces to the three islets. Each islet was garrisoned by four standard squads responsible for guard duty and holding their position. The remaining six standard squads and fifteen Marsh Dragon-Lizards were to act as mobile support, forming the main force of their defensive operations.

The craftsmen in the contingent assembled twelve four-armed light ballistae. This new defensive weapon was Victor’s masterpiece. Made from Thorium and purple sandalwood, it used a small amount of Dragonbone Steel as a disguise. On the surface, it looked exceedingly expensive, but its actual manufacturing cost was only half that of a regular small ballista. Its size and power were less than a fixed small ballista, but its advantages were its light weight, flexibility, and standardized components. It could be mounted on a war chariot or carried around by two strong men. If a light ballista malfunctioned, it could be quickly repaired and returned to battle simply by replacing the standard components. In terms of combat performance, a four-armed light ballista took an average of eighty seconds to wind with a winch, could fire two refined iron crossbow bolts in succession, had an effective range of 420 meters and an optimal range of 310 meters. The triangular-headed bolts it fired could easily pierce the Brute Hide Art of an Ogre chief and posed a real threat to Gold-rank Half-dragons.

Klaus ordered the family warriors to construct more than twenty ballista firing platforms from rammed earth on each islet. The guards on each islet received three four-armed light ballistae, with the remaining three assigned to the mobile force.

In addition to the light ballistae, the expeditionary force was also equipped with sixty military heavy crossbows for individual use, with an effective range of 350 meters and an optimal range of 230 meters. If all these heavy crossbows were to focus their fire on a single target, even a heavily armored Silver Knight would have to keep his distance. In practice, ballistae were most effective against giant and large targets, while military heavy crossbows were meant specifically for killing enemies of medium size or smaller.

Half-dragons were medium-sized creatures. The four-armed light ballistae were more of a psychological deterrent to them; the military heavy crossbows were the true weapons for picking them off.

Klaus and Brandon completed the camp’s defensive layout in half a day, spending the rest of their time refining the details of their defensive tactics. They waited eagerly for the enemy to attack so they could show their skills, but the Half-dragon assailants never appeared.

By the fifth day, Imosen the Wizard had cultivated fifty Aberrant Rats. These ugly, bizarre creatures, aside from their rat-like tails, no longer resembled rats at all. They looked more like feline predators—smaller than a spotted tiger or a wild lion, but about the size of a 250-pound Bear-Dog. They had flat heads, and their wide, long mouths were filled with razor-sharp teeth.

Caligula dubbed them “Razorbeasts,” a name that earned unanimous approval.

Commander Klaus was both pleased and vexed. Fifty Razorbeasts were a considerable fighting force. They could charge out from the islets alongside the war beasts of House of Randell, pestering the Half-dragon attackers and covering the retreat of the Dragon-Lizards, warhounds, and Bear-Dogs, significantly reducing the losses of their war beasts. However, fifty Razorbeasts consumed a substantial amount of meat each day; the two fishing teams would likely not be enough to feed them. With the Half-dragons still not showing up, the Razorbeasts would bankrupt their logistics before the fighting even began.

Imosen could order the Razorbeasts to dig burrows and hibernate, requiring only one feeding a day to sustain them, but this would severely impact their combat effectiveness. After careful consideration, Klaus decided against the wizard’s method and sent out two more squads to fish on the lake to balance the logistical consumption of the Razorbeasts.

Since the Half-dragon tribe was so patient, the expeditionary force accelerated its plunder of the nearby aquatic resources. Klaus wanted to see just how long they could endure.

On the tenth day, the nearby Half-dragons finally engaged one of the expeditionary force’s fishing squads in an expected conflict.

The fishing squad repelled the attackers and immediately returned to camp, arriving around noon. Klaus and Brandon rushed to the medical tent to see Father Dayn preparing to treat a wounded man. The initial-rank Mind Warrior had taken a Half-dragon javelin to the right chest. The sharpened obsidian spearhead had penetrated his six-legged crocodile vine-hide armor and injured his lung, but had not pierced all the way through his body. The wounded man sat calmly on a chair. If not for the large patch of dried blood from his mouth to his chest and the hole in his chest plate, no one would believe this seemingly fine man was seriously injured.

“How could you pull out a javelin that hit you in the chest? Do you have a death wish?” Father Dayn shook his head and chided. But when a sword-wielding handmaiden removed the warrior’s armor, revealing a wound that was no longer bleeding, his eyes widened. In astonishment, he said, “This… you, are you having trouble breathing now? Did you cough up blood at the time?”

The Mind Warrior shook his head and said woodenly, “I don’t feel any difficulty breathing. I was coughing a lot then. Once I coughed up the blood, it was fine.”

“Incredible… Is this a Self-Healing ability, or the effect of a hemostatic potion? Don’t move, I’ll use the Art of True Sight to check for blood clots in your lungs,” Dayn exclaimed repeatedly as he examined the Mind Warrior’s wound.

Initial-rank Mind Warriors possessed Vital Tenacity and had a Minor Self-Healing ability. A piercing wound of this degree was not enough to endanger their lives. With a few days of rest, the wound would heal on its own. Using a healing potion would speed up the recovery even more.

Father Dayn treated the Mind Warrior’s Minor Self-Healing talent as a great discovery. Klaus didn’t disturb him and instead summoned the fishing squad’s corporal to inquire about the battle.

The corporal, an eleven-year-old Lithe Ape militiaman, knew how to report to a commander. He said in a low voice, “We were fishing on the lake ice twenty-five kilometers northwest of the islet. The Savage Warhounds were the first to give a warning. As per standard procedure, I sent out a raven to scout and found several dozen Half-dragons approaching us. I chose to retreat with our catch, trying to avoid the marsh Half-dragons, but they pursued us decisively. We engaged them on the lake ice, seventeen kilometers from the camp.”

“There were thirty-four Half-dragons in total, equipped with obsidian javelins. As they charged us, we dropped our catch and began a fighting retreat, firing our warbows to suppress them. The Half-dragons’ javelins don’t have the range of our warbows. The Half-dragon hunters at the front were all hit by several arrows, which slowed their charge. Only one particularly strong Half-dragon pushed through the volley of arrows, broke away from their line, and hurled two javelins from about 150 meters… Bob dodged the first javelin but was hit in the right chest by the second.”

Klaus’s gaze sharpened. Just as he was about to ask for details, Brandon walked over holding the pierced leather armor and the broken spear. “I took a look. The obsidian javelin pierced the six-legged crocodile vine-hide armor to the depth of a finger… Tsk, tsk, that’s some serious power. You have to remember, a Mind Warrior’s muscles and bones are exceptionally tough; an ordinary hunting bow can’t even injure them, let alone when he’s wearing six-legged crocodile vine-hide armor. The strength of that monster is about the same as mine.”

Klaus took the two items, examined them, and nodded. “It was a Half-dragon warrior in a Deeply Savaged State. If it had been using a refined iron javelin, the Mind Warrior would have been gravely injured.”

Brandon added, “Half-dragons possess the talent of Dynamic Vision, and a dire Half-dragon warrior also has keen Combat Intuition, allowing it to predict an opponent’s moves. I’m not surprised at all that it could hit a Mind Warrior. I just wonder how its close combat ability compares to a Mind Warrior skilled in martial arts.”

Klaus weighed the broken half of the obsidian javelin and frowned. “The Half-dragons’ weapons are too poor; there’s not much to worry about in either close or ranged combat. I’m afraid our warbows won’t be able to kill them effectively… Think about it, we only have so many arrows. What if the Half-dragons run away with our arrows still stuck in them?”

Brandon immediately turned to the corporal and asked, “How many Half-dragons did you kill?”

“Probably didn’t kill a single one. I saw them pull out the arrows and retreat,” the Lithe Ape militiaman corporal replied, shaking his head.

Although the metal warbows equipped by the Randall Expeditionary Force were powerful, with an effective range of 260 meters and an optimal range of 180 meters—far surpassing the throwing distance of the marsh Half-dragons’ javelins—the marsh Half-dragons’ self-healing ability was even stronger than that of the Mind Warriors. Arrows had limited killing power against enemies with high Life Tenacity.

Normally, bows were used to weaken the enemy from a distance before shield warriors engaged them head-on for maximum tactical effect. However, the Half-dragons far outnumbered the Randall Expeditionary Force and could cover for their arrow-wounded companions’ retreat. It would be a major headache if they simply weathered the expeditionary force’s ranged attacks to bait them into wasting their arrows and crossbow bolts.

Klaus suspected that now that the Half-dragons had gotten a “taste” of human arrows, they would do just that!

Brandon struck his fist into his palm and said through gritted teeth, “Send the Dragon-Lizards, warhounds, and Razorbeasts to pursue the fleeing Half-dragons. We’ll lead the family warriors in a follow-up attack to finish them off.”

Klaus nodded. “We’ll fit the Dragon-Lizard war beasts and Savage Warhounds in their special armor…”

“Indeed, we must have them all wear their battle armor.”

The two young Randall Knights turned to see Victor, Charlotte, and the four Dragonkin handmaidens. They were surprised to find that their master had already changed into his combat gear, holding the long spike “Soul Rend,” with the short spike “Umbra” at his waist. The four powerful Dragonkin handmaidens had also donned horned helms that covered the upper half of their beautiful faces. They wore tassets and carried outrageously large, strangely shaped axe blades.

This weapon, which resembled a harp shaped like a half-moon, was as tall as a Dragonkin handmaiden and incredibly heavy. It made their slender figures look even more delicate, yet it exuded a violent beauty, though it seemed somewhat incongruous. However, having witnessed the Dragonkin handmaidens’ Dragon-form transformation, Brandon and Klaus understood why their axe blades were designed to be so massive and formidable.

The eye-catching axe blades glinted with a cold light. The young Knights could almost see the peerless sight of the Dragonkin handmaidens swinging their giant blades, breaking enemy lines and slaying foes. The chilly air was suddenly filled with a grim, restless, and bloodthirsty scent.

Caligula’s giant-like figure appeared from somewhere. He was holding Beldina to his chest, stammering to Victor, “Ma… Master…”

“I know.” Victor smiled and nodded, turning to Lord Narsen and several Ferocious warriors who were rushing over. “You feel it too?”

Narsen nodded heavily, two plumes of white mist erupting from his nostrils. His gaze was as solid as a steel awl. “The oppressive sense of danger is so strong I can barely breathe.”

“…A big one is coming,” Victor said. His dark gold eyes looked to the north. After a moment, he spoke calmly, “From this moment on, command of the army is transferred to Lord Narsen. Recall all soldiers and war beasts to the camp immediately. If necessary, I authorize you to abandon all dromedaries and supplies.”

Father Dayn said anxiously, “Your Highness…”

Victor raised his left hand, cutting him off. He took the plump little foodie from Caligula’s arms and asked with a smile, “Beldina, a particularly powerful monster is leading over three thousand Half-dragons this way. I’m going to check it out, but I’m not confident I can kill it… So, we now face two choices. One is to retreat the way we came. The other is to hold this islet and wait for me to return before deciding what to do. Tell me, based on your intuition, which is the most suitable choice?”

Bel blinked her large, crystal-clear eyes and mumbled softly, “I think we should defend the island… If we abandon all our supplies, everyone will go hungry.”

The corner of Victor’s mouth tilted up into a confident smile. “My thoughts exactly… My lord, you and the others will hold the island until I return. Mewen and I will go and see that… Hydra Lizard.”

“Your Highness, are you serious?”

“My King, I will accompany you.”

Father Dayn was aghast, while the red Dragonkin handmaiden, Alexia, was eager to go.

Victor first nodded, then shook his head. “Laila, you’re not as fast as Mewen. You stay on the island and obey Lord Narsen’s command. If necessary, I will notify you to lead a breakout with Lord Narsen.”

“Master, it seems to be getting foggy to the north!” Tao De, who had been keeping an eye on their surroundings, suddenly pointed to the north side of the islet and warned.

In the distance, a white mist appeared, like a high wall or a curtain connecting heaven and earth, advancing south across the lake ice. Its spread seemed slow but was actually very fast, covering more than a hundred meters in just ten seconds.

Victor’s pupils contracted slightly. He frowned and said, “This is the Hydra Lizard’s domain power… I can perceive that the Mist has no effect on Half-dragons, but it will affect human vision.”

“My lord, it seems you have no choice but to fight a defensive battle,” Victor said calmly, clapping his capable subordinate on the shoulder.

Lord Narsen said in a heavy voice, “The Randall Expeditionary Force will prove worthy of the trust you have placed in us, my lord!”

Victor’s deep, far-seeing gaze looked toward some unknown entity in the north as he said in his heart, “And I will not fail your expectations.”

Chapter 755: Formulating a Plan

Mist enveloped the three small islands. It wasn’t as shockingly dense as it had appeared from a distance. Narsen took several deep breaths, inhaling and exhaling the white fog. Besides the cold and dampness, he detected nothing unusual.

It seemed to be ordinary cold mist, yet his heart remained heavy.

The fog obstructed one’s vision. Narsen could only see clearly within a three-hundred-meter radius; anything further was a blur. Those with weaker Perception than him were even more suppressed; an initial-rank Mind Warrior’s line of sight was reduced to less than one hundred and fifty meters.

This meant the Randell Expeditionary Force’s advantage in bow and crossbow range was completely gone. If the Half-dragon raiders were truly unaffected by the mist, their javelins would pose a greater threat to the expeditionary force.

Narsen never doubted Victor’s judgment. His sharp psychic intuition told him that a considerable number of enemies were lurking in the mist beyond his sight. Their malice, interwoven with the cold, damp fog, felt like a slick, sticky viper coiling around Narsen’s mind.

In a place invisible to the naked eye, Narsen was already engaged in a covert clash with the Silver-rank powerhouses among the Half-dragons. He could imagine his counterpart restraining the Half-dragon hunters, using the mist as cover, and searching for the perfect moment to attack.

“Why haven’t they made a move?”

Narsen retracted his gaze from the distance, bent his back, and squatted down. He turned and said, “There’s a group of Half-dragons hiding just beyond our visual range. The exact number is unknown. Clearly, the dire Half-dragon leader knows our visual range through its danger sense. It could have its subordinates charge out, throw their javelins, and then retreat. What do you all think they’re waiting for?”

The Bear of the Northlands spoke while crouching, and Brandon, Klaus, and Tao De all squatted down with him. But as for the Commander’s question, they were also at a loss.

Klaus thought for a moment, then said, “Before we set out, the Master said there were over three thousand Half-dragons. If that many enemies charged at once, could we hold them off?”

Narsen replied, displeased, “My lord possesses extraordinary wisdom and is incredibly perceptive. The miracles he creates are beyond the imagination of ordinary people. If my lord says there are over three thousand Half-dragons, then he cannot be mistaken. What do you mean by asking such a question?”

Klaus coughed to hide his embarrassment and awkwardness. “Lord Legion Commander, what I mean is, if the Half-dragons believed we couldn’t withstand their collective assault, they would have charged already. The fact that they haven’t means they aren’t certain of victory.”

Narsen’s eyes lit up. He glanced at the three Dragonkin handmaidens standing with Charlotte and said, “That’s right… They fear the three Ladies, and perhaps they also fear His Excellency Imosen’s Philip II and III.”

A sudden flash of inspiration struck Brandon’s mind. He muttered, “Tutor Narsen, why did you squat down?”

Narsen paused, stroking the stubble on his chin. “I just did it instinctively… Is there a problem?” he mumbled.

Brandon’s thoughts became clear. He continued, “Monsterology states that Half-dragons have excellent dynamic vision for moving targets, but have difficulty distinguishing stationary ones. These marsh monsters perceive their prey through smell and sight. We have the Devil’s Mushroom potion to interfere with the Half-dragon hunters’ sense of smell. As long as the warriors stay low to the ground and remain still, it will be very difficult for their javelins to hit their mark.”

Narsen slapped his thigh and laughed heartily. “Excellent idea! We have the advantage in close-quarters combat. Let’s just lure the Half-dragons onto the island and fight them, chop them to pieces, and feed them to the dogs… Alright, our main force will remain on this island. We’ll hide three watch squads on each of the other two islands. Once the Half-dragon raiders set foot on them, we’ll use the ice walls as cover to charge over and, coordinating with the watch squads, annihilate the Half-dragon raiders.”

Brandon’s eyes also lit up, and he added excitedly, “Philip II and the Razorbeasts will launch a frontal assault to draw the Half-dragons’ javelins! We’ll lead the war beasts to attack from the flanks, and the watch squads hiding on the island will stab them in the ass from behind!”

“That’s exactly how we’ll do it!” Narsen nodded in agreement, then asked Tao De, “Ghostface, my friend, do you have anything to add?”

The Bear of the Northlands was not a brilliant man, but his achievements to date were no fluke. His sharp psychic intuition, combined with a willingness to listen fully to his subordinates’ opinions, had always allowed the Bear of the Northlands to lead his small mercenary company out of peril on complex battlefields. His Highness Randell had praised Narsen as a natural-born general, a fact that Tao De was only truly beginning to appreciate today.

Despite the perilous and unpredictable situation, Narsen had formulated a strategy and tactics with the two young knights in just a few words. Tao De was accustomed to hiding his thoughts, but at this moment, he couldn’t resist offering his own counsel. He pondered for a moment before speaking. “The Master said there are over three thousand Half-dragon raiders, and that can’t be wrong… Lord Narsen directly sensed a group of Half-dragons approaching the island, and that can’t be wrong, either. What I’m wondering is, if over three thousand Half-dragons are afraid of our strength and only dare to send a single squad to harass and probe us, what’s the point?”

Narsen’s expression was focused. He nodded and said, “Mm, continue.”

Tao De shrugged and went on, “Honestly, I’m not skilled in battlefield tactics, but I’m from the Eastern Alliance, which is near the Nimda Great Marsh. I grew up hearing stories from marsh adventurers about Hydra Lizards and Lizardmen. Although the Hydra Lizard is a powerful Legendary creature, they lack intelligence and are considered lord-level extraordinary beasts. The Lizardmen worship the Hydra Lizard, but I’ve never heard of Lizardmen being able to command a Hydra Lizard to fight alongside them.”

“What’s happening today is very strange. The hydra is using mist to give the Half-dragons a visual advantage. If it isn’t being commanded by the Half-dragons, that means it has wisdom and is commanding the Half-dragons to attack us.”

Narsen shook his head and said seriously, “The question of the hydra’s wisdom is for my lord to solve. He has given us a mission that we must complete. Stick to what’s useful.”

Tao De said bluntly, “My point is, if over three thousand Half-dragons don’t dare to attack, they might be waiting for reinforcements. Sending a team close to the island is to prevent us from escaping, from leaving the hydra’s domain of mist.”

It was a flash of realization for Narsen. He shot to his feet and, in a few quick strides, ran over to the Dragonkin handmaiden Laila. He bowed and asked, “Lady, can you and your sisters see through this mist?”

Laila’s draconic vertical pupils were hidden behind her mask. She lifted her delicate, snow-white chin, her red lips parted, and she said with cold arrogance, “Of course we can. How could a trivial bit of fog block the sight of My King’s personal maids?”

Narsen was overjoyed. He pressed on, “Lady, can you tell me their positions and numbers?”

“To the north, two kilometers away, a large swarm of weak reptiles. Five hundred meters away, two hundred and sixty-four weak reptiles,” the Dragonoid female curled her lip and said with disdain.

Narsen nodded, then turned to the three knights who had followed him. “The defensive strategy remains the same, but we can’t let these marsh Half-dragons get too comfortable. We must take the initiative and eliminate the two hundred-odd Half-dragons closest to the island. What do you think?”

Annihilating the two hundred-plus Half-dragons assigned to watch them would remove the immediate threat, after which three scenarios could unfold:

First, the main Half-dragon force would remain stationary. They were three kilometers from the island, giving the Randell Expeditionary Force enough time to retreat quickly, even if it meant abandoning their supplies.

Second, the main Half-dragon force would launch an all-out assault on the island. The expeditionary force would fight them in a positional battle, which was far better than waiting for the Half-dragon raiders’ reinforcements to arrive.

The final possibility was that the main Half-dragon force would neither dare to launch a full-scale attack on the expeditionary force’s fortified island nor let their prey escape. They would have to send out small groups of hunters to approach the island’s edge and continue their harassment and surveillance tactics. If so, the Randell Expeditionary Force could pick off the Half-dragon scouts one by one, continuously whittling down the enemy’s numbers. Even if Half-dragon reinforcements arrived later, the gap in their forces would be reduced.

There were no major flaws in the strategy Narsen had devised. Everyone began to contribute ideas, adding tactical details here and there. In the end, it was decided that Charlotte and Caligula would lead some Mind Warriors to protect the priests and wizards; Narsen, the Dragonkin handmaiden Laila, the family knights, and the Ferocious Warriors would be responsible for camp defense; and the Dragonoid Raiders Dili and Fugerui would lead thirty Razorbeasts on the offensive, specifically to eliminate the Half-dragon scouts approaching the camp, with an attack range not exceeding one and a half kilometers.

Daphdilier and Daphgriel were unwilling to lead the Razorbeasts into battle, but Imoson the Wizard pleaded politely, claiming he needed the Razorbeasts to bring back the bodies of the Half-dragon scouts to feed his adolescent, red-eyed Aberrant Rats and accelerate their growth.

The arrogant Dragonkin handmaidens ultimately followed Commander Narsen’s orders, nodding with indifference.

Before they departed, Father Dayn silently recited a prayer. Two platinum runes appeared on their full, smooth foreheads. He instructed them, “Honorable and powerful Ladies, this is the Supreme Lord’s mark of Holy Light. As long as you remain within two kilometers of me, I can provide you with divine art support for the time it takes an hourglass to empty.”

“So troublesome… We’ll be back in a moment.”

Daphdilier tossed her waist-length hair, donned her horned helm, and lifted her giant crescent axe blade. She and Fugerui leaped down from the edge of the island, their tall, graceful figures quickly melting into the mist. Dozens of flat-headed, wide-mouthed Razorbeasts roared and chased after them, their agile bodies leaping off the island and disappearing into the fog that sight could not penetrate.

In the very next second, the panicked screeches of Half-dragons echoed from the mist. The chaotic sound of footsteps was filled with immense terror. Then, the mist surged like a colossal, arcing ribbon of silk. A shrill scream was cut short, and a vibrant red cloud blossomed within the white fog. As the misty ribbon slowly parted, it resembled a banner dyed in fresh blood, possessing a shockingly cruel beauty.

The psychic pressure vanished. Narsen knew that the Silver-rank Half-dragon leader he had been clashing with covertly had been slain on the spot by Daphdilier.

“…So strong. Both of these Ladies are far too strong,” Brandon murmured, his gaze fixed on the bloody banner in the mist, slightly lost in a daze.

Hearing the young knight’s praise for Dili and Fugerui, the Dragonkin handmaiden Laila was instantly consumed by jealousy. Just as she was about to charge out and start a massacre, a reprimanding, warning will from her master echoed in the depths of her mind. She remained where she was, flourishing the giant axe blade in her hands. With a condescending look, she said scornfully, “Just a bunch of lowly, weak mongrels. They don’t even have the right to be My King’s servants. I could kill them with a single glance… And here you are, going on about ‘so strong, so strong’… Making a fuss over nothing. So ignorant, so pathetic.”

Brandon leaped back several meters. The Dragonkin handmaiden’s swinging great-axe stirred the mist, and the sharp currents of air forced him to retreat. He was baffled by Laila’s inexplicable hostility.

Father Dayn seemed lost in thought. He looked first at Laila, then at the Dragon-Lizard lying on the ground, musing to himself, “Could it be the legendary Dragonkin bloodline suppression? Was that hydra attracted by the Dragonkin handmaidens’ bloodline?”

On the lake’s surface, forty kilometers from the small island, the thick layer of ice was continuously collapsing. The bone-chilling lake water seemed like boiling magma; broken chunks of ice fell into the lake and instantly melted away. The miraculous sight left Victor breathless, and a sense of powerlessness welled up within him.

No one could cause an entire lake’s ice to melt during the cold, snowy season, but the Hydra Lizard was one of the few Legendary behemoths capable of altering its environment. Although it had not yet revealed itself from the deep lake waters, Victor could sense the great power of the Ancient Behemoth, the King of the Black Marsh, to change the terrain and create swamps.

When Victor and the Dragonkin handmaiden Mewen stood on the edge of the ice, the strange phenomenon of the ice fracturing and melting stopped. His dark gold eyes reflected the massive dark shadow beneath the murky green water. Before long, a head the size of a shanty surfaced. Its serpent eyes, of the purest green, met Victor’s across the ice. A peculiar, long, and drawn-out voice, as soft and dense as rippling water, flowed directly into his mind.

“Offspring of the Sun God, true king of the elves, my powerful and generous guest. Thank you for bringing your servants to amuse me. I, too, have brought servants to amuse you. Let us enjoy the bloody battle of our servants together, right here.”

Chapter 756: The Hydra’s Mysteries (Part 1)

For the past thousand years, there have been fewer than ten recorded sightings of Hydra Lizards by human adventurers. What little the noble scholars knew of them came from information provided by the Church, which was itself limited and largely unverified.

As one of the most powerful individuals in the human kingdoms, with the strength to contend with Legendary creatures, Victor was granted access to the Ivory Sanctum’s bestiary during his visit to the Theocracy of Ayr. This tome, compiled from the records of the ancient Chosen, included an entry on the Hydra Lizard. Cross-referencing this with the information about Hydras from the Will Side of his Alchemical militia, Victor dared say he understood this ancient, Legendary behemoth better than any scholar.

The Hydra Lizard, a giant monster woven from myth and reality, was a direct blood-kin of the ancient behemoth, the King of the Black Marsh. It was a top-tier Legendary creature, a Lord-level beast with an affinity for the earth and water elements.

The earth element, representing the Law of Matter, granted the Hydra Lizard two bloodline talents: Resistant Hide and a Resilient Physique. The water element, representing time and life, bestowed upon it talents like Extraordinary Regeneration, Venomous Breath, and Elemental Stasis, as well as a terrifying Venomous Domain.

That’s right, the Hydra Lizard possessed the power of a domain, and its domain’s law was extraordinary, holding the immense power to alter the environment.

The bestiary compiled by the Ivory Sanctum indicated that in areas where Hydra Lizards were active, the marsh vegetation grew with exceptional vigor. Small life forms like fish, shrimp, and shellfish also matured with incredible speed, providing abundant food for fish and predators. During the cold winters, the area around a Hydra’s lair would not freeze over, attracting large numbers of capybaras to forage and wait out the season. It was no wonder the Half-dragon tribes of the marsh competed with one another for territory near a Hydra Lizard.

With their high affinity for the water element, Hydra Lizards commanded a domain of the Law of Life. They were the very core of the marsh’s ecosystem, a phenomenal extraordinary existence.

However, Victor did not agree with the ancient Wizards’ conclusion that the Hydra Lizard was a mere beast. According to the theory of his Mind Bloodline secret art, the will of the mind determined the Bloodline Law, and the bloodline, in turn, inherited the ancient will. A Hydra should be able to awaken the ancient memories within its bloodline and ignite the Light of Wisdom.

But if the Hydra was intelligent, it would contradict the observations recorded by the ancient Wizards, and the Alchemical militia also considered Hydras to be giant beasts. Furthermore, applying the theory of wisdom inheritance from the Mind Bloodline secret art to the Hydra created a paradox.

Hydras had an average lifespan of over a thousand years. In a marsh environment rich with the water element, they were nearly impossible to kill. Unless someone could sever all nine of its heads in a short time, it would quickly grow new ones. In fact, when severely injured, a Hydra could retreat into deep water to hide, leaving its enemies helpless, able to do nothing but wait for it to regenerate its body and recover its vitality.

If such a long-lived, powerful, environment-altering marsh behemoth possessed wisdom, what chance would other intelligent species have to survive?

When theory and fact contradicted each other, it did not necessarily mean the theory of the Mind Bloodline secret art was flawed. It was more likely that a crucial piece of the knowledge jigsaw puzzle was missing.

“Knowledge is power”—for Victor, this phrase had a very real, practical meaning.

The slow upgrade of his human bloodline Talent Tree limited the expansion of his elven bloodline Talent Tree. For example, the Sword Saint Draven’s Flowing Fire Arrow combat technique was a domain Victor dared not touch. Soul Boil was already the limit for the Raging Wind Sword Saint. It would not be difficult for Victor to surpass this limit, but he knew very well that his Sun Elf bloodline would fully awaken as a result, completely supplanting his human bloodline. He would gradually lose his own will and become the Emperor of the Elves, a physical incarnation of the Sun God, Frey.

The extraordinary powerhouses of the human kingdoms acknowledged His Highness Randell’s Saint realm power, but Victor himself felt he was unworthy of the title. His Spirit attribute met the standard for the Saint realm, but his Sundering Method abilities were still limited. Victor estimated that his extraordinary talents were more or less on par with the Queen of the Elves; they were likely on the same level.

Since he had chosen Mind’s Dominator as his Path, delving into the potential of his human bloodline’s Law was essential for his progress. The richer his accumulation of knowledge, the more perfect his Mind’s Dominator would become.

Victor had coveted the mysteries of an ancient neighbor like the Hydra Lizard for some time. Unfortunately, even if he joined forces with Sylvia, they had no confidence at all that they could hunt and kill an extraordinary behemoth with its numerous servants in the Great Marsh.

This time, while crossing the Great Marsh, Victor was actually hoping he would encounter a Hydra Lizard. In other words, his lingering in the Half-dragon territory was partly an attempt to attract one.

The reasoning was simple. With the Raging Wind Sword Saint and four Dragonoids stationary near its lair, the Hydra Lizard was bound to know and would certainly react. If Hydra Lizards lacked the ability to perceive danger, they would have gone extinct long ago, not survived from ancient times to the present.

A Hydra Lizard faced with danger would react in one of two ways: either dive into deep water to avoid Victor’s probing, or emerge to drive off the powerful invaders.

Therefore, when Victor sensed the Hydra, he brought Megfiawen, with her Blue Dragon Bloodline, to have a look, ordering Narsen to hold their position at the camp until his return.

Just as Victor was unable to do much to a Hydra Lizard in the marsh, the Hydra Lizard had no good way of dealing with the Raging Wind Sword Saint either. Its movement speed was simply far too slow for Victor.

The Petrification talent was the Hydra Lizard’s only extraordinary power capable of restraining Victor. However, Petrification ultimately belonged to the freezing law of the water element. Victor’s Spirit attribute was a high 40 points, which he could maintain at around 45 in his Molten Heart state. By using Soul Boil and Miller’s divine arts ring, he could stabilize his Spirit attribute at 52. The possibility of a Hydra Lizard freezing Victor’s control over the fire element was minuscule.

The worst-case scenario would be breaking through his soul’s limit and completely transforming into a a Sun Elf, at which point the Hydra Lizard would be the one fleeing for its life. In any case, the Raging Wind Sword Saint would not be killed by a “clumsy and slow” Hydra.

Bringing his Dragonkin handmaiden Mewen along was a precautionary measure. Mewen’s attack power and speed were not far behind Victor’s. If the Hydra Lizard were to truly attack Victor, it would have to petrify two targets at once, which would double the difficulty.

Victor was fully prepared for his first face-to-face encounter with a Hydra Lizard, yet the appearance of this giant beast still exceeded his expectations. Not only had it awakened ancient memories, but its eighty-kilometer-diameter water mist domain was a phenomenal ability unrecorded in monsterology.

Victor’s own perception domain had a radius of only twenty kilometers. Within this area, he could call upon the wind element to strike any target with his will. The water mist unleashed by the Hydra Lizard was much larger than the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s domain. Although the mist domain’s effect was singular, it did indeed carry out the behemoth’s will.

If this Hydra was considered an opponent, it was undoubtedly the strongest Victor had ever encountered. Its sheer size alone was enough to inspire a profound sense of powerlessness. Victor felt that his Soul Rend spear, capable of severing all things, was a bit too small for the task.

Fortunately, the Hydra Lizard showed no strong hostility toward Victor. One could even say it was expressing friendliness. But how to communicate with this big fella had become the most difficult problem.

Bloody battle? For your pleasure? My followers are not here for your amusement… Victor complained internally, a headache already forming. Even if different intelligent species could communicate, it was difficult to understand each other’s meaning due to differing ways of thinking and points of focus. It was like two parallel lines, never intersecting, a dialogue of the deaf with no meaningful outcome.

The Hydra called Victor an offspring of the Sun God, expressing friendliness, respect, and joy towards him. Its wisdom clearly came from the ancient memories of the King of the Black Marsh. If Victor had awakened the ancient memories of the Sun Elves, he would have been able to chat idly with the marsh behemoth and know how to handle it. But as it happened, His Highness Randell was an impostor Sun Elf. He wanted only the extraordinary power of the Sun Elves and rejected the ancient will of the elven race. As such, he really had nothing to talk about with the Hydra Lizard.

If Victor handled this improperly and angered the Hydra Lizard, he would certainly miss this golden opportunity, losing any chance to acquire its various mysteries through conversation.

In a single second, Victor deduced hundreds of communication plans. After careful consideration, he finally said with feigned displeasure, “I am not an elf. I am a great power among humans, Lord Victor W. Randell… Why have you attacked me and my servants?”

As Victor’s questioning words fell, the churning air became a roaring gale, tearing apart the curtain of water mist and carving crisscrossing white scars upon the calm lake’s surface.

The Hydra sensed the Elven King’s anger and warning. A trace of confusion appeared in its pure, jade-green serpentine eyes, and its voice, soft and drawn-out, asked, “Human? But you are clearly the King of the Elves…”

Victor’s dark gold eyes blazed like fire as he said coldly, “Offspring of the King of the Black Marsh, master of the Great Marsh, order an immediate stop to the attack on my followers. Otherwise, I will crush your servants before you can reach the battlefield, and then I will leave the Great Marsh with my followers.”

The Hydra was now obviously a little anxious. It lifted its enormous head slightly from the water and said, “I do not understand why you are angry. The flesh and blood of servants nourishes the marsh, and the marsh gives birth to new life. This is a joyous matter. I do not mind if you participate in the bloody battle. Please do not be in such a hurry to leave… I have recently acquired the memories of my ancestor, and I wish to speak with you, who are also of an ancient bloodline.”

Victor quietly sighed in relief. His judgment had been correct. The behemoth before him was an exception among hydras. For some unknown reason, it had awakened the ancient memories in its bloodline, ignited the Light of Wisdom, and thus broken free from the shackles of its beastly instincts.

One significant difference between intelligent species and beasts was the strength of their curiosity. Only a life filled with intense curiosity about the unknown can come to understand the connection between itself and the world. This was practically the starting point for an intelligent life’s pursuit of self-perfection. If the Hydra Lizard had awakened its ancient memories, its first instinct would be to verify them, which required an exchange of information with the outside world. Of course, it couldn’t rationally analyze and record its own needs from a third-person perspective as Victor could. It was simply acting out of an instinctive loneliness, a desperate desire to find someone to talk to.

Victor had not forgotten the Old Ogre in the Randell Fief or the Bear-monster Elder in the Giantwood Forest. Although they harbored sinister intentions, they were also incessant chatterboxes.

Compared to those two cunning and insidious intelligent creatures, the Hydra Lizard seemed pure of character. For one thing, it was powerful enough, and its conversation partner was powerful enough, that neither could easily threaten the other. Thus, there was a basis for communication, but no point in fighting. For another, it had only recently transformed from a beast into an intelligent being, its mind not yet polluted by calculations of gain and loss.

At least in the Great Marsh, the Hydra had no need for deceit and trickery to live a comfortable life.

Victor employed his spiritual power, and X-3 began rapidly analyzing the information the Hydra revealed, simultaneously creating a virtual personality to engage the Hydra according to a predetermined strategy, attempting to dig out more valuable mysteries from its words.

“You still have not told me your name. I cannot trust you. Also, are your other eight heads hidden in the water, planning to break through the ice and attack me?” Victor took two警觉 steps back, acting as if he was ready to disengage at any moment.

“Wait, King of the Elves…”

His Highness Randell said angrily, “I am a great lord of the humans.”

“Human King, wait,” the Hydra Lizard promptly corrected itself, explaining via a mental message, “I have no name of my own. However, my servants call me Bornostakdaru… As for hiding my other heads in the water, I believe the Human King has misunderstood. We hydras only extend all our heads when we are in battle.”

Victor stood his ground again, brandishing Soul Rend and Umbra in his hands, insisting on his point. “To us humans, hiding one’s weapons behind one’s back signifies hostility. It is out of respect for you that I keep my weapons where you can see them. If you wish to communicate with me, please extend all nine of your heads for me to see. Afterward, you may return them to the water according to your custom.”

The marsh behemoth’s pair of jade-green serpentine eyes shone with a verdant light. It thought for a moment and finally said, “Very well. I hope my heads will not frighten you.”

Eight enormous heads rose from the calm surface of the lake without creating so much as a splash or a single ripple. It was as if Serpent Lizard heads were emerging from the void, giving one an unreal sensation, accompanied by a shudder that came from the depths of one’s soul, as if one were in the presence of a divine being.

The great Raging Wind Sword Saint was not about to be startled by nine massive heads. He knew this was the Hydra Lizard’s exquisitely fine control over the water element. Sylvia could also achieve the feat of walking on water without causing a ripple, but the scale of her ability was minuscule compared to the Hydra Lizard’s sheer size.

Had this marsh behemoth’s mastery over the authority of the water element already reached such a level?

What truly astonished Victor was that the eyes of these eight heads were all empty and deathly still, devoid of any glint of life.

“Another Hydra Lizard challenged me to claim my spouse. In the fierce battle, it tore off my eight heads, inflicting an injury so severe that not even the Great Marsh could repair it. But I escaped from its fangs,” the Hydra said, sounding rather proud. “I was on the verge of death, yet my soul became unified, awakening the memories my Ancestor God left deep within my bloodline. Meanwhile, my rival, along with my spouse, remain boorish beasts.”

Nine huge, ferocious serpent heads looked down at Victor, making him seem incredibly small. But there was not a trace of fear in Victor’s heart. The virtual personality created by X-3 concealed his sliver of killing intent as he asked calmly, “Lord of the Marsh, I am curious, how many years have you lived?”

Perhaps the Light of Wisdom had dulled its sharp, wild intuition, but the Hydra still submerged five of its heads into the lake, answering with its one living head, “I have seen one thousand one hundred and twenty-two great snows. Before this, I was muddled, not knowing what I was. This question brings me joy, yet it still troubles me. I wish to share my joy with the wise Human King, and I also wish to learn more answers.”

Victor shook his head and said, “No other being can tell the Lord of the Marsh what the meaning of its life is. The answer to that question can only be found by you yourself. I am willing to share my experiences with the Lord of the Marsh… if you have your servants cease their attack on my followers, we can talk for a very long time.”

The Hydra answered without hesitation, “I refuse… The bloody battle is a part of the marsh. The flesh and blood of the defeated returns to the marsh, and the marsh nurtures new life. We hydras cannot defy the will of the marsh.”

An elegant smile appeared on Victor’s incomparably handsome face. In the instant his eyes turned cold, four of the Hydra’s heads vanished beneath the lake’s surface. The sole remaining head said, “My life is nearing its end. My soul can still be transferred to any one of my heads. While the Human King stays here and talks with me, I will have my other servants halt their advance and not participate in that bloody battle. This will last until our conversation is over, or until the servants near the island have determined a victor. How does that sound?”

Victor casually handed Soul Rend and Umbra to his Dragonkin handmaiden Mewen beside him, signaling her to step back a certain distance. He nodded at the Hydra and said, “Good. I will respect the will of the Lord of the Marsh. In that case, would the Lord of the Marsh be willing to let my wind surround one of your dead heads?”

Splash! A head the size of a shanty flopped onto the ice, its lifeless eye facing Victor directly.

The Hydra Lizard said joyfully, “Excellent. This is the kind of communication I had hoped for. Let’s begin quickly. I cannot wait to experience the mysteries of the wind.”

Chapter 757: Mysteries of the Nine-headed (Part 2)

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A scholar of monsterology talks about monsters, a scholar of architecture talks about architecture. Common ground gives strangers a basis for conversation.

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Victor’s knowledge was vast and systematic. Even human scholars craved His Highness Randell’s guidance. But he found it hard to imagine a Hydra being happy to listen to him expound on politics, economics, and art, or to jointly discuss potion-making, secret martial arts, and other precious intellectual treasures.

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The Hydra, having awakened its ancestral memories, had sought out Victor because they were both direct offspring of the Ancient Gods. If High-ranked Knights represented the Law of Chaos in the elements, then Sun Elves and Hydra Lizards were the favored children of the elemental Law of Reality.

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This was their common ground.

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Victor’s Wind Elemental Insight was, in fact, a two-way street. When he used the wind element to observe an object, the one being observed could also sense the changes in the wind element. It was just that Victor’s previous observation subjects were not on the same level as him. Aside from feeling a flow of air suffusing their bodies, they were utterly incapable of understanding the deeper meaning of the wind element’s operation.

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The Hydra Lizard was different. Its mastery over the authority of elemental Law was at least at the Legendary level. While Victor attempted to analyze its Bloodline talent, it too was eager to understand the methods of utilizing the wind element.

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It was certain that the Hydra Lizard could not learn the extraordinary talents of the High Elves from Victor. However, the water element possessed both the flowing characteristics of the wind element and the material properties of the earth element. The way Victor manipulated the wind element was of reference value to the Hydra, capable of helping it better utilize the Law of Water.

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For example, the Mist Domain was clearly a new ability the Hydra had gained after awakening its ancient memories. The essence of this domain was an expanded application of the water element, but its effect was merely to preserve the visual range of its vassals while suppressing the sight of non-vassal creatures; it possessed no killing power on its own. However, the Hydra’s most famous talent was its Venomous Domain. Since both mist and venom were manifestations of the Law of Water, if the Hydra could lock onto an enemy’s position through the Mist Domain, it could very well transform the mist into venom to kill a specific target.

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The wind element represented space; the perception and transmission of information fell within its scope. The Hydra could not master an extraordinary talent of the wind element attribute, but it could slightly alter its most basic Perception. Even a mere increase in perception distance would bring about a qualitative change for its Mist and Venomous Domains.

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A beast filled with instinct had no capacity for learning; it couldn’t even begin to think about it. But this Hydra with an impossibly long name was eagerly anticipating Victor’s demonstration of the mysteries of the wind element.

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Victor admitted that using the wind element to deeply observe the Hydra’s bloodline variation was an equitable exchange of knowledge about the Laws, but it carried a certain degree of risk. He didn’t know how many hidden talents the Hydra with its awakened Ancient God memories possessed, nor could he be certain how fast it could learn.

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Ancient memory was still an unfamiliar piece of a jigsaw puzzle to Victor. Not knowing everything meant he couldn’t control all changes in the situation. Exchanging knowledge with a Hydra definitely involved a gamble on his luck.

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Victor felt his luck had always been good, and he had even specifically asked for Beldina’s opinion before leaving the camp. However, His Highness Randell placed more trust in his own preparations. The divine arts ring made by Father Miller was on his finger, and the Manticore Bone bead Sylvia had given him hung at his chest. The Hydra Lizard’s Petrification and toxins posed a very limited threat to him. The real ones bearing the risk were the Randell Expeditionary Force and that tribe of Half-dragons.

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Two powerful Legendary creatures were amicably exchanging knowledge of the Laws, while their vassals had to abide by the statutes of the marsh and engage in a cruel, bloody battle.

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Both Victor and the Hydra understood that the longer their exchange dragged on, the greater the casualties their respective vassals would suffer. The difference was, the Hydra Lizard delighted in the spectacle of its servants’ bloody battle, viewing it as a gift to the world of the marsh; His Highness Randell, on the other hand, would worry for the safety of his followers.

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Regardless, the fates of their vassals were now entwined.

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Victor hesitated for only a tenth of a second before summoning the wind element to swirl around the Hydra’s head. A living Hydra willing to cooperate with his observation—such an opportunity was truly a golden one.

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The Hydra’s head was so immense it could house a family of three and still fit a cow. It would take Victor quite some time to use his Wind Elemental Insight to fully analyze its physiological structure and the operation of its Bloodline talents.

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He had to control his time well, for the safety of his followers.

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On an island forty kilometers away, Tao De’s body was practically scraping the ground as he made a sharp turn, dodging several obsidian javelins that shot at him from different directions. The longsword in his hand reflected a bluish-purple light, like a bone-chilling wind that gently swept across the neck of a Half-dragon warrior. The lizard-like head immediately fell from the other’s shoulders, and scalding blood spurted over a foot high from the neck. The headless Half-dragon corpse staggered for a moment before collapsing to the ground.

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Thwump! An obsidian javelin from the distance struck Tao De in the abdomen from a cunning angle. The senior apprentice knight promptly dispersed the force, rolling with the momentum into a shallow pit to hide himself. The exquisitely crafted six-legged crocodile leather plate was pierced by the javelin, but the Thorium python leather armor underneath successfully blocked the obsidian tip. Still, the heavy impact of the javelin made his ribs ache dully.

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Lying low in the pit, he could evade the Half-dragons’ direct javelin throws. The arcing shots had less power and couldn’t penetrate his six-legged crocodile leather plate. Tao De was afforded a moment’s respite, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. Even though he had ignited the fire of the mind and his swordsmanship was masterful, he was still in constant peril in a battle where he was outnumbered.

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The Half-dragon hunters were valiant and skilled in battle. Their Dynamic Vision endowed them with a projectile skill that was hard for human warriors to match. If one disregarded strength, their throwing accuracy was generally on par with a Bronze Knight’s.

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The hunter that had just hit Tao De with a javelin was a Half-dragon warrior in a Deeply Savaged State. In a head-on confrontation, it would be no match for a single stroke of Tao De’s sword. But it possessed keen intuition, able to judge its target’s field of vision in the dense fog, and so it hid in the mist to launch sneak attacks. This put Tao De in the awkward position of being a target without any way to retaliate.

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Fortunately, the Half-dragon warrior’s equipment was crude. Maintaining a safe throwing distance of over one hundred fifty meters, its javelin’s killing power was insufficient to pierce the armor of the expeditionary soldiers. However, these Half-dragon assailants were rich in combat experience and numerous. Using the mist for cover, they roamed the periphery of the battlefield, launching sneak attacks, specifically targeting the less-protected legs of the Mind Warriors, successfully splitting the expeditionary force’s combat squad formations.

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Tao De and Macy had become separated in the fighting. He felt that if Commander Narsen didn’t come to support them soon, they wouldn’t be able to hold this island.

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Seeing its prey hiding in the pit, the Half-dragon warrior knew it had lost its chance to kill him. It quickly moved to relocate, but its mind suddenly screamed a warning. Its body reacted almost instinctively, making the most correct response. Gripping its obsidian javelin, it spun around to see two red-eyed dire wolves bursting through the mist, charging its position from the left and right. Behind them were three monsters with flat heads, wide mouths, and rat-like tails.

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The Half-dragon warrior knew without thinking that killing the two leading dire wolves was its only path to survival. Just as it raised its obsidian javelin, it suddenly felt an unbearable pain and terror in its mind, as if a steel awl was being pressed against its eyes.

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In that instant, an obsidian javelin flew straight from its flank, aiming for the Half-dragon warrior’s armpit. The javelin shrieked, piercing the hazy white fog and kicking up a white wake. The Half-dragon warrior’s heart trembled. It unleashed all its potential, leaping forward more than ten meters to avoid the fate of being skewered, but its throwing motion was inevitably ruined.

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An Alchemical Warhound in a full Bloodlust state pounced fiercely on the fumbling dire Half-dragon, sinking its teeth into its shoulder. The other Alchemical Warhound also bit into its thigh. They tore at it together, and the Half-dragon warrior’s tough body was stretched taut and suspended in the air by the immense force. The three Aberrant Razorbeasts swarmed it, and the sounds of tearing flesh and crunching bone immediately followed, accompanied by the wretched shrieks of the beastman of the marsh, making the scene exceptionally cruel.

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Blood Python Macy led several Mind Warriors past the pit where Tao De was hiding. She ran a few steps forward, then stopped and said to the knight who had risen back to his feet, “It lost its focus just now. Lord Narsen must have targeted it.”

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Tao De sheathed his Adamantine Thorium sword and said, “This squad of Half-dragon attackers is retreating. They can’t handle the Dragon-Lizard war beast and Philip III. We should regroup our forces quickly, move the wounded, and reform our defensive lines.”

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The deafening roars of the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard signaled the end of this battle, but the Half-dragon attackers would return, and in greater numbers.

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Macy nodded and blew the assembly whistle, calling the family soldiers on the island to reassemble and reorganize. Initial-rank Mind Warriors appeared from the mist in twos and threes, methodically helping the wounded and clearing the battlefield.

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Narsen arrived at the assembly point with Brandon, Klaus, and two other Ferocious warriors. He asked with concern, “How is it? How many men did we lose here?”

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Tao De stepped forward and replied, “Eighteen brothers were injured, no one was killed. We have three heavily wounded who need a priest’s divine arts treatment urgently. They’ve temporarily lost their ability to fight.”

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Narsen breathed a sigh of relief and explained, “There were at least three hundred of those Half-dragon bastards attacking Island No. 2. We repelled them, but we had two men sacrificed, six heavily wounded, and lost twenty-six Razorbeasts and four Bear-Dogs. I was a bit late reinforcing Island No. 3. Good thing you didn’t have many casualties here…”

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“We killed forty-two Half-dragon bastards,” Brandon interjected, then asked Tao De, “How many monsters did you kill over here?”

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Tao De shook his head with a bitter smile. Macy answered for him, “We took down eleven Half-dragons in total. Oh, the last one was killed by the warhounds, so that doesn’t count as our kill. So, ten then.”

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Narsen took off his helmet, wiped his face with his hand, and asked, “I’m thinking of giving up these two islands and concentrating all our forces on Island No. 1. What do you all think?”

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Tao De was taken aback, but replied without a second thought, “My lord, if we cede these two islands to the Half-dragons, we’ll be trapped. If their reinforcements arrive on the battlefield, I’m afraid it will be very difficult for us to break out from Island No. 1.”

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The three islands, arranged in mutually supporting positions, had the topographical advantage of high ground. Connected by ice walls, they were convenient for early warnings, support, and breakouts. Giving up the islets was tantamount to abandoning their defensive depth. If the Half-dragons occupied the two high points, it would be like having two daggers pressed against the flanks of the expeditionary force’s defensive line.

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As a battle-hardened veteran, Narsen certainly knew Tao De’s point was valid. He had proposed the plan based on his combat intuition and was soliciting everyone’s opinion.

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Under the Commander’s gaze, everyone remained silent, clearly agreeing with Tao De. Only Klaus wore a pensive expression. Narsen asked, full of expectation, “Kid, what’s your take? Should we concentrate our forces to hold one spot, or conduct a mobile defense?”

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Klaus nodded and said steadily, “I’m in favor of concentrating our forces… Everyone, we are, in fact, already surrounded. Surrounded by the mist.” He organized his thoughts for a moment, then changed tack, “But we are not completely trapped. Not because of the three connected island high grounds, but because Caligula and the three Ladies can see through the mist.”

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“If the Half-dragons’ reinforcements arrive on the battlefield and we need to break out, these three islands will be irrelevant. The Master’s Dragonkin handmaidens can see the enemy’s troop movements, and Caligula can choose the timing and direction for our breakout.”

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A look of realization dawned on Narsen’s face. He spoke with newfound clarity, “That’s right. Our initial reason for defending the three islands was to use the terrain to wear down the Half-dragons’ forces. But those bastards are exceptionally cunning. Every time they attack, they retreat immediately if they take ten-percent casualties. We’ve fought three engagements and killed less than one hundred of them. In fact, our strategic objective has already failed.”

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Brandon added, “I’ve noticed the Half-dragons are progressively increasing their troop numbers in their attacks on the camp. The first battle was about one hundred, the second was two hundred. In this battle, their main assault force had three hundred hunters, and the feint had one hundred. Because they keep putting pressure on Islands No. 2 and 3, we’ve had to pull all the Razorbeasts from Lady Dili and Lady Fugerui, causing a sharp decline in the number of Half-dragon scouts they can hunt. Meanwhile, we’ve lost over seventy Razorbeasts in total… His Excellency Imosen’s Aberrant Rats are almost gone.”

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Macy asked in confusion, “What does that mean?”

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Brandon explained, “I mean the Half-dragons are constantly sending more troops to make us spread our mobile forces thin, unable to cover both ends. When they realize our Razorbeast numbers are low, they’ll have the confidence to attack all three islands simultaneously… His Excellency Imosen, His Excellency Dayne, and Beldina will be in danger.”

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Tao De frowned and asked hesitantly, “If we hole up on Island No. 1 and more than three thousand Half-dragons launch an all-out assault on it, what do we do? We can break out, but then we’ll have failed the mission the Master entrusted to us.”

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Narsen’s hand rested on Tao De’s shoulder as he said with confidence, “My friend Ghostface, I have a feeling. The Master hasn’t just stopped the Hydra, he’s also holding back the Half-dragons’ reinforcements.”

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“My lord, do you have a more specific feeling?” Klaus straightened his back and asked with great seriousness.

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Narsen turned his head, paused for a moment, and then said, “We’ve fought three battles and haven’t killed a single Silver-rank dire Half-dragon leader. They are like rabbits hiding in the grass, fleeing at the slightest sign of trouble. Moreover, I’ve never once sensed the position of the Gold-rank Half-dragon chief. He doesn’t dare show his face at all.”

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Brandon’s eyes lit up as he murmured, “I understand. The Half-dragon chief is stalling for time. They’re waiting for Master Randall to return so they can retreat.”

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Narsen shrugged his shoulders and gave the order, “Everyone, evacuate Islands No. 2 and 3. We will concentrate our forces and hold Island No. 1. We’ll wait for the Master to return and relieve us, or we’ll look for an opportunity to break out and support him.”

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Corrosive breath sprayed onto the ice, dissolving entire chunks of the lake ice into a sickly green liquid. Fish floated to the surface, belly-up, and were visibly eroded into skeletons. In the end, even the bones dissolved into the lake water.

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A fierce torrent of air, like a city wall, kept the green-tinged mist at bay. Victor and Mewen stood in the eye of the storm, their expressions unusually solemn.

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The power and duration of the Hydra’s Venomous Breath both surpassed Daphdilier’s venomous dragon’s breath. Although the great marsh beast was demonstrating its breath ability at Victor’s request and not spewing it at him, Victor could still smell a faint, sweet scent.

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The raging airflow dispersed the toxic fog. The sweetness Victor smelled was actually a psychic toxin, like a Manticore’s Venomous Gaze—impossible to guard against, forcing one to rely on spiritual power for passive resistance.

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“Alright, you can stop.” Victor’s voice, carried by the fierce wind, was like a clap of thunder.

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The Hydra stopped its breath, raising its enormous head, and said, not fully satisfied, “I can spray for a while longer. Does the Human King wish to continue observing?”

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The process of Wind Elemental Insight had already exceeded Victor’s expectations. He had observed everything he needed to. The Hydra’s vigor was also not something Victor could compare to; after all, its body was nearly half the size of a castle.

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Victor had obtained extremely detailed information about the Hydra’s Bloodline talent. All in all, the Hydra’s eight heads were indeed “dead,” but blood still flowed through them. These heads had effectively become limbs, though the Hydra could awaken any one of them.

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Although it could only use its living head to deploy its various Bloodline talents, while the dead heads could only lunge and tear, causing a severe degradation in its combat power, the difficulty of killing it had also increased exponentially because its soul was unified, and its actions were unified. This was equivalent to having ignited the fire of the mind.

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From this perspective, the Hydra Lizard was far more powerful than its beastly kin.

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Having gained Insight into the mysteries of the Hydra’s bloodline, Victor lost the last shred of interest in hunting it. He instead began to seek the possibility of cooperation, saying, “The observation is over. We can talk about something else.”

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The Hydra shook its head and asked, “Human King, I’d be happy to talk about something else… What do you want to talk to me about?”

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Victor said contemplatively, “Is the King of the Spirit Realm in your memories?”

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“Yes… He attempted to meddle in the domain of death, secretly carving out a plane to bind the fire of the soul. He earned the disgust of Taelon Ruier and was besieged by numerous progenitors. He had no choice but to flee to the world of the Abyss.” The Hydra’s gaze was cold and remote as it spoke. “The great Ancestor God also participated in the siege against the King of the Spirit Realm, liberating the tormented souls of two offspring and allowing them to return to the world’s origin.”

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Victor quietly memorized this information. With an impassive nod, he said, “The King of the Spirit Realm did not perish. He has returned, in another form—the form of the Ant-man monsters. You should have seen them.”

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The Hydra thought for a long time before slowly saying, “I seem to remember. That was a long, long time ago. Weak Ant-man monsters entered the Great Marsh, and I hid in the deep water… So I was worried they would bind my soul. I finally know why I hid from them.”

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It then added, “However, thinking back on it now, besides their overwhelming numbers, the Ant-man monsters didn’t seem to have the ability to bind souls, because my progenitor and the other great beasts tore apart the soul plane created by the King of the Spirit Realm.”

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Victor interjected, “The reason I brought my vassals across the Great Marsh this time is to deal with the King of the Spirit Realm’s Ant-man monsters. They devour flesh and life without restraint and are also enemies of the marsh. I hope to receive the help of the Lord of the Marsh.”

“

“

“I’m not interested.”

“

“

Before Victor could ask why, the Hydra gave a very powerful reason. “I’m about to die. I’m not interested in fighting.”

“

“

Chapter 758: Difficult Negotiations

“I am dying soon. I do not wish to fight.”

The hydra did not know how to shake or nod its head. It simply held its head aloft, its fine, uniform scales reflecting a dark green, spectral light. The interplay of light and shadow formed mysterious patterns, displaying naturally beautiful lines that extended from its head down its neck to the enormous body submerged beneath the water, filled with an unparalleled sense of power.

This was an extraordinary behemoth of elegant bearing and beautiful appearance. Having awakened the ancient memories in its bloodline, it could be considered a physical incarnation of the King of the Black Marsh, possessing both the power and the thoughts of a god. At least, in the eyes of the marsh Half-dragons, Lord Bornostakdaru was the god of their marsh kingdom.

It was possible that the human ancestors of the Dark Ages had also worshiped High-ranked Knights and High-ranked Wizards as gods, which was the fundamental reason why extraordinary beings had always remained the ruling class. However, the Radiant Church, out of a need for unified faith, standardized the definition of a True God across the human kingdoms. Mortals no longer served human extraordinary beings as they did True Gods, but the essential divine nature of extraordinary beings had not changed.

Beings of different stations could not communicate effectively due to inequality, just as a beast could not comprehend the complex and varied thoughts of a human, and a being of mythical station would not care for the pleas of a mortal.

Although Victor and Sylvia were the most top-tier extraordinary beings in the human kingdoms, they had not awakened the ancient memories in their bloodlines. They possessed a divine nature but no godhead, and so they still weighed the gains and losses of their family, not qualifying as true mythical creatures. Fortunately, Victor could use the properties of the X-3 to barely simulate the perspective of a mythical being, and so he was able to understand the thoughts of the hydra, Bornostakdaru.

The results of his Elemental Insight of Wind showed that the hydra’s blood flow was stable and its body was full and vigorous. It could still live for several decades, perhaps even a century.

Alright, compared to a hydra’s lifespan of over one thousand years, it was indeed dying soon.

Victor understood the true meaning of what Bornostakdaru—or Takdaru—was expressing through his own personal experience: upon awakening its ancient memories, the beastial hydra had died. The mythical hydra, Takdaru, was born from its original shell. It was currently in a curious childhood phase and, just as Victor had once despised the little Baron, it now despised its own bestial life.

How could the wise Lord Takdaru enjoy rolling in the mud like the beastial hydra, chasing the scent of female hydras, or engaging in crude battles of tooth and claw?

Of course, Victor had no intention of inviting Takdaru to join his side. He just wanted the human legions to pass through the Great Marsh safely, free from the harassment of the Half-dragon hunters. If the Half-dragon tribes were willing to offer some aid, that would be even better.

However, this was a demand on the mortal plane, and mythical beings cared little for such things. No matter how young Takdaru’s mind was, it was still a genuine mythical creature. For Victor to negotiate with it was a futile effort.

The War Ant King was leading its Ant-man army in a grave threat against the survival of the marsh Half-dragons. The matter of the human legions passing through the Great Marsh to fight the Ant-man tide should have been communicated to the Half-dragon chiefs. If the totem behemoth they worshiped was a beast with shallow wisdom, the Half-dragon chiefs would have easily reached a tacit understanding with Victor. But now, the totem behemoth had gained wisdom. It was indifferent to the Half-dragon tribes’ survival strategies, yet stubbornly adhered to its divine instinct of maintaining the marsh’s ecological balance. If the human legion crossed its territory, it would summon its servants to wage a bloody battle; if the Ant-man legion crossed its territory, it would also wage a bloody battle.

It would be fine if it could stop the Ant-man tide, but what if it couldn’t?

Once the War Ant King dealt with the hydra and its servants, the Ant-man army would charge straight for the Centaur Hills. If the York family could not hold the defensive line, the home that Victor and Sylvia had worked so hard to build would be destroyed by the Ant-men.

With his family’s future at stake, how could Victor rely on a hydra and primitive Half-dragon tribes to annihilate the Ant-man army? Besides, the human legions were not suited for fighting in the Great Marsh.

Now this mythical behemoth was both unreasonable and unkillable. The problem was instantly caught in a vicious cycle.

Victor thought it over and over but could not find a good solution. The anger brewing within the mythical creature persona simulated by the X-3 would not be dispelled by it, and he could only lift his head and let out a heavy sigh. It was an unreserved release of emotion and power. The omnipresent wind elements responded joyfully to the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s outburst of anger. They shrieked and gathered, weak air currents converging into gales, howling gales becoming a hurricane, and the violent hurricane tearing the entire white Mist Domain asunder. Daylight shone in, refracting through the water vapor in the air to cast a magnificent rainbow across the half-frozen, half-liquid lake.

The hurricane that dispersed the mist was immense, but it was vast without being strong, scattered without being focused. It couldn’t even blow over a wild boar; its killing power was actually less than a sharp Wind Blade. Yet the hydra could feel the angry will of the King of the Elves within it. Its raised head immediately lowered to the lake’s surface. After a moment, it asked cautiously and curiously, “Why is the King of the Elves angry?”

Just like that, following the memories in its bloodline, it had reverted from calling him “Human King” back to “King of the Elves.”

The Heart of Flame made Victor’s dark gold eyes shimmer, appearing miraculously divine, noble, and majestic. He spoke with a clear voice, “I have a wish. When my human followers cross the Great Marsh to resist the Ant-man monsters of the King of the Spirit Realm, the blood-kin of the King of the Black Marsh will allow them safe passage.”

The wish of the King of the Elves piqued the mythical hydra’s attention and immense interest—mostly interest.

The wise King of the Elves had a wish, so the wise hydra should have a wish too. Otherwise, how could it highlight the difference between itself and the beastial hydra? Those crude beasts only knew how to roll in the mud; what wishes could they possibly have?

Lord Takdaru thought and thought, and finally spoke, “I too have a wish. I am dying soon, and I hope my seed can be passed on to the hydras in other marshes.”

A true Sun Elf might have understood this wish, whether it was serious or not, but Victor was completely baffled. Fortunately, the human lord was skilled in the art of negotiation. He said impassively, “I know of a great marsh by the distant sea that is also the territory of hydras. However, are you not planning to leave your precious seed here?”

Takdaru snorted a cloud of mist from its nostrils in excitement and said, “I am the eldest hydra in the marsh. Of course, I will pass my precious knowledge to my juniors. It would be even better if my knowledge could be passed to the other offspring of our progenitor.”

So it was about passing on its experience and will to spur the evolution of the hydra clan’s bloodline… Victor glanced at Takdaru’s enormous body hidden beneath the water and said, “The Nimda Great Marsh is tens of thousands of kilometers from here. A marsh creature cannot cross that distance. I can help you fulfill your wish to pass on your knowledge, but of course, this is also extremely difficult for me.”

Takdaru was overjoyed, but it didn’t forget its mythical station, so it refrained from gleefully rolling in the water. Emulating the King of the Elves, it said solemnly, “I am willing to help the King of the Elves fulfill his wish. The followers of the King of the Elves may pass through my domain.”

As it spoke, it opened its mouth and spat out a crystalline pearl. The pearl was the size of an adult’s fist and flew toward Victor with a whistle, like a stone pellet fired from a powerful crossbow.

Could it be a tooth stone… Victor thought mischievously. Mewen flashed to his side, her metal-gauntleted left hand steadily catching the pearl the hydra had spat out.

Who knew if this pearl was poisonous? The Dragonkin handmaiden could survive a single fatal blow, so it wouldn’t matter even if she was poisoned.

Victor was actually overthinking it. The pearl was only covered in a little water, not even enough to be called the hydra’s saliva.

Victor suspected it was a unique and stable crystallization of the water element, containing the mythical hydra’s will and information. He wondered, if he sacrificed Takdaru’s seed to the Alchemy Tower, would it produce a new alchemical unit?

The mythical hydra grew inexplicably uneasy and pressed, “How long will it take for the King of the Elves to drop my seed into the distant Nimda Great Marsh?”

Seeing the mythical hydra’s earnest expression, Victor abandoned his selfish idea. Connecting his spirit to the Elemental Sea of Wind, he said gravely, “As long as I draw breath, I will deliver the hydra’s seed to the Nimda Great Marsh within twenty years.”

This time, Takdaru was completely reassured. Ripples spread across the surface of the lake, resonating with its words: “As long as I live, the followers of the King of the Elves may pass through the Great Marsh in peace…” It suddenly paused and offered a well-intentioned reminder, “King of the Elves, please spit out a seed for me, so my servants can recognize the followers of the King of the Elves.”

For God’s sake, this hydra… Victor’s mythical being persona nearly collapsed. His narrowed eyes flashed with a cold light, and he squeezed a sentence through his clenched teeth: “Let the retainers deal with the affairs of retainers. The Lord of the Marsh need only remember his promise to me.”

His Highness Randell’s expression was stern, his lips pressed tightly together. This proud and cold demeanor filled Takdaru with great envy. It thought to itself, The King of the Elves is truly worthy of being an offspring of the Sun God. The affairs of servants should indeed be discussed by servants.

“The Lord of the Marsh agrees.” Takdaru spoke with its head half-submerged in the water, releasing a string of bubbles. It wanted to speak with its mouth closed, but that was a bit too difficult.

This counted as an agreement, right?

Victor finally breathed a sigh of relief. Conversing with a mythical being was no ordinary effort; it was even more exhausting than defeating the Centaur Great Khan. But a mythical being’s promise should be quite reliable. After all, both parties had the ability to swear an oath to the origin of the world, making it an obsession in their minds. If they were to break the promise, they would feel uncomfortable all over and wouldn’t even be able to sleep soundly.

His mood lightened, and Victor couldn’t help but ask out of curiosity, “Do you still remember the Forest Centaurs crossing the Great Marsh every fifteen years?”

“Oh, I remember now. Every fifteen years, many little ones would walk on the lake and sing. Their songs were wonderful, and they offered me sweet-tasting meat, a food not found in the Great Marsh,” Takdaru said.

Halflings were born with the ability to walk on water. They excelled at song, dance, and cooking, and possessed a special, extraordinary charisma. Because their own strength was low and they posed no threat, they easily won the favor of other races. According to Takdaru, the Halflings had bribed the Hydra Lizard, allowing the Forest Centaurs and the marsh Half-dragons to reach a tacit understanding for passage.

Victor had finally solved the mystery of how the Forest Centaurs crossed the Great Marsh. He shook his head and said, “I must be going. Lord of the Marsh, you may now dispel the Mist Domain.”

“Alright.” Takdaru blinked its huge green eyes. It couldn’t blush, but its tone carried a hint of embarrassment as it tried to explain to the King of the Elves, “I used to find the little ones’ songs pleasing and their food offerings delicious. But that was in the past. I am dying soon now. King of the Elves, please do not mistake me for a crude beast.”

The mythical hydra was always emphasizing that it was dying soon, and it did so with a sense of pride. Perhaps the concept of death for mythical beings was different from that of mortals. Victor was more inclined to believe that Takdaru was using the word “death” to express that it had awakened to wisdom. In reality, this behemoth had at least eighty years of life left, possibly even longer.

Victor had already complained about this in his heart countless times, but who hadn’t been a curious child at some point?

Chapter 759: The Second Hibernation

“The Gray Wolf Combat Technique emphasizes loose shoulders, steady wrists, and gliding footwork. On offense and defense, power is generated instantaneously from the waist and hips. The movements are small, but they must be precise and stable. This is to conserve a soldier’s stamina as much as possible during intense combat. If your shoulders are stiff the whole time, you’ll be exhausted before long.”

“That’s why the Gray Wolf Combat Technique’s close-quarters Sundering Method incorporates the secrets of the Counter-Slash. For example, when using a spear, if your strength is greater than the enemy’s, you glide forward, first deflecting their weapon, then following the momentum with a straight thrust. If your strength is less than the enemy’s, you pivot back, leading their weapon astray, then follow up with a counter-thrust.”

“When it comes down to it, the Gray Wolf Combat Technique is a Sundering Method designed for ordinary soldiers. It’s simple, easy to master, and saves energy… But are Secret Art Guards and Mind Warriors ordinary people?!”

“Especially you Mind Warriors! Your strength rivals that of a Knight, and your stamina is even more outstanding. So what if your shoulders are a bit stiff in a fight? Stiff shoulders are what allow you to use basic moves like blocking, sweeping, flicking, and pressing. The more basic moves you have, the more Sundering Methods you can combine. All you know in close combat are those sissy-like counter-slashes, counter-thrusts, and counter-hooks. You’re wasting all that brute strength. You’re not even as good as the sword-wielding handmaidens!”

“Watch. Just press down with the spear like this, and a Half-dragon warrior’s spine will crack on the spot. Even a Half-dragon warrior in a Deeply Savaged State wouldn’t be able to push the spear away immediately. When it tries to block the spear and push upward, its chest will be exposed. A quick retract and thrust, and you can pierce its heart.”

On the flat ground of Island Number One, Narsen, holding a seven-foot-long refined iron spear, demonstrated the most basic combat movements to several dozen Mind Warriors. A simple downward press of the spear displayed terrifying power in his hands. The refined iron spear tore through the air with a muffled thunder, creating a vortex. And this was just a demonstration with his power restrained; the force he used was on the same level as a third-level Source-Blood Militia.

Ever since Narsen had abandoned the positions on the two smaller islands, the fighting between the Randell Expeditionary Force and the marsh Half-dragons had eased. Once the Half-dragons occupied Islands Number Two and Three, they stopped sending scouts to harass Island Number One. The Dragonoid Raiders Dili and Fugerui were naturally left with nothing to do. Narsen led them on a few counter-attack attempts, but the Half-dragon assailants were extremely cunning. Before the Dragonkin handmaidens could even set foot on their islands, they would scatter and flee.

After several counter-attacks yielded no results, and with Dili and Fugerui unable to pursue too far, Narsen chose to fall back and defend Island Number One. By this point, even the sword-wielding handmaidens, who lacked combat experience, could see that this Half-dragon tribe feared losses and had no intention of a solo assault on the expedition’s camp.

The main force of the Half-dragon tribe remained three kilometers away. They dispatched over two hundred hunters to watch the Randell Expeditionary Force from across the water, occasionally lobbing some crudely made, blunt-headed javelins toward Island Number One. These were hurled haphazardly from over two hundred meters away, with neither accuracy nor any significant killing power.

Unfortunately, the blunt-headed javelins managed to kill a few Camelope, successfully enraging Lady Laila, who had been guarding the island. The Dragonoid Rager ignored Commander Narsen’s shouts, charged onto the opposite island, and slaughtered nineteen marsh Half-dragons with her moon-wheel axe blade.

Fortunately, the irascible little dragoness did not pursue too far. Upon returning to camp, she crawled into His Highness Randell’s sled-cart and fell into a deep sleep. It wasn’t until noon the next day that the Half-dragons reoccupied Islands Number Two and Three. They had learned their lesson this time and made no further provocative moves.

The two warring parties had actually reached a sort of tacit understanding—as long as the expeditionary force didn’t attack, they could coexist peacefully.

Island Number One was the largest, easily accommodating three or four hundred people. Furthermore, the Randell Expeditionary Force had ample supplies, all of which were stored there.

However, after a two-day, one-night standoff with the Half-dragon tribe, His Highness Randell had still not returned. Everyone was worried for his safety, though the three Dragonkin handmaidens and Caligula insisted their Master was unharmed.

Despite their words, His Highness Randell’s followers could not rest easy. Imoson the Wizard volunteered to use his tamed green-eyed eagle to search for their Master’s whereabouts. It was the first time he had publicly performed his Wisdom Guidance wizardry. Flame-like runic sigils of wizardry swirled around his body, revealing his identity as a Wizard in the most direct way possible.

Everyone, including Father Dayn, was full of praise for Imosen. Whether he could see through the mist and find His Highness Randell was another matter entirely.

Narsen, by contrast, was much calmer. He was only a hair’s breadth away from achieving the Touch of the Mind and had a much deeper understanding of his Master’s power. He also knew that Caligula was telling the truth, because he himself could faintly sense his Master’s condition. Though it was a vague perception, it was very stable. This filled Narsen with confidence in his Highness and spared him the feeling of impending doom.

With time on his hands, Narsen gathered the initial-rank Mind Warriors and began instructing them in combat techniques in batches.

In the eyes of outsiders, these Source-blood militia with their loaded skills had already mastered the Gray Wolf Combat Technique to perfection. But the technique’s limitations prevented them from fully utilizing their advantages in strength, agility, and stamina. Seeing them use only gliding steps and counter-slashes against the Half-dragon attackers nearly made Narsen’s nose twist in anger.

The Gray Wolf Combat Technique created by Tournans was brilliant, but no matter how brilliant, it was still a Commoner combat technique. The third-level Source-blood militia possessed the physical attributes of Bronze Knights and should be using Knight-level combat techniques. In close combat, several Mind Warriors had been severely wounded by dire Half-dragon warriors because they didn’t know how to adapt their techniques. The worst case was a man who had half his face bitten off by a Serpent Fiend tamed by the Half-dragons.

Father Dayn had been forced to take a piece of skin from the man’s buttock and graft it onto his face. While his life wasn’t in danger, he had temporarily lost his ability to fight.

If these powerful family warriors had more advanced combat techniques, their combat attrition would be much lower.

Narsen felt a deep pang of regret. He wanted to design a high-level combat technique system for the Mind Warriors, but alas, once he ignited the fire of the mind, combat techniques became irrelevant to him. As a result, he hadn’t researched combat theory further. Now, he could only rely on his vast combat experience to teach the Mind Warriors a few basic movements, hoping they could break through the limitations of the Commoner combat technique in the upcoming battles and reduce their casualties.

Narsen had no idea that the Mind Warriors’ Gray Wolf Combat Technique had been specifically loaded by Victor. They couldn’t perform any skill the Alchemy Tower didn’t have. The Gray Wolf Combat Technique itself involved mastery of long, short, and ranged weapons, making it a very practical secret art combat technique. Otherwise, Victor would have replaced it for them long ago.

However, the third-level Sourceblood Warriors’ Spirit attribute had reached thirteen, making them much smarter than the average person and giving them excellent learning abilities. After they mastered the basic combat skills Narsen taught them, they could feed them back to Alchemy 7 via the memory upload function, thereby leveling up the Gray Wolf Combat Technique.

It was difficult even for a top-tier martial artist to create a flawless combat technique system. The Alchemy Tower, by pooling the learning and combat experience of numerous Alchemical militia, could easily raise the level of a martial skill.

Narsen, in a way, had stumbled upon the right solution.

The Bear of the Northlands was renowned, yet when he demonstrated basic movements, the Knights and Ferocious warriors of House of Randell showed little interest. The Alchemical militia, however, were silent and earnest in their learning. This pleased Narsen greatly, and he tirelessly demonstrated several combination moves over and over again.

Just as Narsen was getting into the swing of teaching, Aka, who had been squatting on the ground playing in the mud with Beldina, suddenly stood up and shouted, “Master’s back! Master’s back!”

Before her voice had faded, three graceful figures shot out from the sled-cart, streaking like arrows toward the north side of the camp. In an instant, His Highness Randell’s Dragonkin handmaidens had vanished without a trace.

Not long after, the four Dragonkin handmaidens returned to the island, escorting the exceptionally handsome His Highness Randell. Charlotte, with tears in her eyes, was the first to run over, throwing herself into her lover’s arms.

Placing a light kiss on his sworn female knight’s full, smooth forehead, Victor wrapped an arm around her supple, slender waist and smiled as he accepted the joyful greetings of his followers.

Beldina squeezed in front of Caligula, jumping on her feet and waving her freshly washed little hands. This tactic successfully drew His Highness Randell’s attention, and he bent down to scoop her up from the ground.

“Master, did you see the nine-headed hydra?”

“Yes.”

“Did it give you anything good to eat?”

Shouldn’t a normal child ask questions like, “Does the nine-headed hydra really have nine heads?”

Victor was used to Beldina’s eccentricities. He knew if he said “yes,” her next question would be: “Did you bring any of the food the hydra gave you back for me?”

Victor decisively shook his head. Beldina sighed with regret, pouting as she said, “If Bel met the nine-headed hydra, it would definitely give Bel something good to eat.”

Beldina’s antics made Victor smile, and the human side of him re-emerged in his soul. The mental traces of his masquerade as a mythical creature finally faded away.

The atmosphere on the spot suddenly became more relaxed and lively. After chatting with his followers for a while and satisfying their curiosity about the Hydra Lizard, Victor began to listen to Commander Narsen’s report.

At this moment, the mist shrouding the island camp was dissipating, and the Half-dragon scouts occupying Islands Number Two and Three had all vanished. Victor and the leaders of the expeditionary force sat around a small wooden table. Narsen spoke first.

“My lord, in our battle against the Half-dragon tribe, we eliminated a total of 164 Half-dragons and 29 Serpent Fiends. We took no prisoners. On our side, we lost six initial-rank Mind Warriors, two Elite Guard Corporals, three Randall Savage warhounds, nineteen Bear-Dogs, and eighty-five Razorbeasts. Another eighteen were seriously injured, but thankfully their bones are tough, so no one lost any limbs. After treatment with Father Dayn’s divine arts, they should be battle-ready again after a few days’ rest.”

He scratched the short hair on his head and chuckled. “This bunch of Half-dragons is very restrained. Apart from the Half-dragon leader that Lady Dili killed at the beginning, none of the other Silver-rank Half-dragons entered the fray. We didn’t even catch a glimpse of the Gold-rank Half-dragon chief… They say the Lizardmen’s bloody battles are brutal, but is this really the level of their fighting?”

The bloody battles of the marsh Lizardmen (Half-dragons) were, of course, brutal. But in the end, they were for maintaining the balance of the marsh ecosystem, a periodic survival-of-the-fittest competition. Due to their Dynamic Vision, when Half-dragon hunters threw javelins at each other, those with weaker bloodlines were killed on the spot; the slightly stronger ones could escape the battlefield and become exiles; the strongest Half-dragons could see the trajectory of the javelins and were tough-skinned themselves, so they suffered minimal losses. When the populations of two clans dropped to a certain ratio, they would merge into a new clan.

The sense of kinship among the marsh beastmen was extremely weak, and they adhered to a primitive way of life. But this didn’t mean they lacked wisdom, especially the Gold-rank Half-dragon chief, who could even resist the bloodline will of the Hydra Lizard to a certain extent and act with autonomy.

The nearby Half-dragon tribe’s chief had shown his cunning side. He was waiting for reinforcements from other tribes. Without them, he was naturally unwilling to fight a bloody battle to the death with the powerful Randell Expeditionary Force and deplete his own strength for nothing.

There was a reason for the marsh Lizardmen’s reputation for cowardice. Any intelligent species that espoused the law of the jungle made survival its primary goal. The primitive Half-dragon tribes had not a shred of honor, a fact amply demonstrated by their method of fighting the Randell Expeditionary Force.

Of course, the Half-dragon tribe’s forces far outnumbered the Randell Expeditionary Force. If they had attacked with all their might, even Narsen would not have been able to hold them off. However, Victor had taken precautions beforehand. Although he had gone forty kilometers away to meet the hydra, putting the island camp beyond his perception domain, he had a telepathic link with his Dragonkin handmaidens. He could have ordered the expeditionary force to break out before the Half-dragons launched an all-out attack.

The strength of the Half-dragon hunters was uneven; most were ordinary. They couldn’t keep up with the Randell Expeditionary Force’s speed, and any dire Half-dragons that could pursue would be picked off by the expedition’s counter-attacks. Therefore, as long as the expedition fully utilized its mobility advantage, this Half-dragon tribe posed almost no significant threat.

Victor had gone forty kilometers away to block the hydra precisely because the Mist Domain’s radius was only about forty kilometers. With the Dragonkin handmaidens and Caligula to guide them, the Randell Expeditionary Force could easily escape the misty region.

The island defense battle had been under Victor’s control from the start. Even the Dragonkin handmaiden Laila’s counter-attack against the Half-dragon scouts’ provocation was his order. In reality, Victor had led Narsen, the family knights, the Ferocious warriors, the Wizard, and the High-ranked Priest through a close call of a real combat drill.

Imosen was completely oblivious to this. He didn’t forget to report his achievements to Victor, saying, “My Honored Master, my Razorbeasts are almost all dead. It will take five days for the remaining red-eyed rats to transform into Razorbeasts. However, there isn’t enough flesh in the camp to raise new ones. Those Half-dragon robbers stole some of our supplies, and we’ve lost nearly half of our one hundred-plus Camelope. We have less than sixty left.”

Victor nodded in approval. Without Imoson the Wizard’s Aberrant Beast cannon fodder in the front line, the Alchemical militia’s casualties would have far exceeded twenty-some men.

“It’s alright. The Camelope are pack animals to help us cross the marsh, and they also serve as rations for the war beasts.” Victor placed a hand on Imosen’s shoulder and said with a smile, “With you here, do you think we’ll lack pack animals once we reach the Great Plains?”

The flabbergasted Wizard patted his chest and swore that he would never disappoint his Master.

“Imosen, you still have work to do.” Victor removed his hand and turned to Dayne. “I have communicated with the nearby Lord of the Marsh and reached an agreement. As long as the human army passes through His territory in a quiet posture, He will not summon His Half-dragon servants to wage a bloody battle against us.”

A collective gasp went through the crowd. Narsen stammered a follow-up question, “My lord, you… you can speak with the nine-headed hydra?”

“Idiot! That’s not for you to ask!” the Dragonkin handmaiden Laila was the first to scold him.

“Is the King’s majesty something you can possibly imagine?” Daphdilier mocked grandly, taking the opportunity to push Charlotte aside and cling to Victor’s arm, rubbing against him to curry favor.

Dayne had mixed feelings of joy and sorrow. Victor conversing with the hydra indicated that he was only one step away from the full awakening of his bloodline, and the transformation into a Sun Elf was irreversible. Yet, the noble His Highness Randell had not yet produced an offspring with Sylvia. This was not only a great loss for the human kingdoms, but would also thoroughly enrage the Spirit Knight.

Still, all things considered, it was a good thing that the human army could safely cross the Great Marsh. Father Dayn thought for a moment, then asked pensively, “Your Highness, what does ‘quiet’ refer to?”

“That will require you to negotiate with the chiefs of the Half-dragon tribes… including the route the human legion will take through the marsh. You must clarify that with the Half-dragon chiefs as well.”

Charlotte asked in surprise, “Dearest, you won’t be involved?”

Victor shook his head, his dark gold eyes carefully concealing a trace of excited anticipation. He said in a deep voice, “I will be in hibernation for ten days. Do not disturb me unless it is something of particular importance. If it becomes necessary…”

His gaze swept over the four stunningly beautiful Dragonkin handmaidens, and the corners of his mouth curved into a faint smile. “I will awaken in time.”

Chapter 760: The Poltanos Secret Art

My dearest Sylvia:

This is the first letter I have written to you since my expedition into the Endless Forest. I should have written sooner, to let the Ash Falcons carry my deepest longing to my love’s side, but I was delayed for some time in the Great Marsh…

I imagine you were able to sense my strange encounter, just as I always know your location. Even if we are thousands of miles apart, the origin of the world will bind our loving souls together.

I encountered a Hydra Lizard. Unlike the usual descriptions in monsterology, it had awakened its ancient memories, a true mythological creature. The mist it summoned shrouded the marsh, and Knights, clergy, Wizards, and Ferocious Warriors below the Silver rank could not pass through it to glimpse its magnificent form. Once mortals were trapped in the mythological behemoth’s Mist Domain, they could only pray devoutly to the Lord of Radiance, but it was to no avail. In the end, they could not escape the tragic fate of having their body heat drained by the water element in the mist, gradually freezing into blocks of ice.

To be frank, facing the Mythological Hydra Lizard directly placed me under pressure I had never before experienced. Of course, it was equally in awe of my power and mistakenly thought I too was a mythological creature, eager to communicate with me. By simulating the stature of a mythological creature, I managed to hold a conversation with the Hydra Lizard. It was a very tiring affair; it took the Mythological Hydra and I two days to complete our contact, but the results of our exchange were of immense value.

This contact involved two parts. First, I used my authority over the wind element to observe in detail the characteristics displayed when the Mythological Hydra operated its Bloodline talent. Second, the Mythological Hydra and I made a trade—well, to be precise, we exchanged a wish. I promised to place the seed of will condensed by the Hydra into the Nimda Great Marsh, which is adjacent to the Eastern Alliance. What effect this will have on the hydras of the Nimda Marsh is still unknown, but I believe it will be harmless to the human kingdoms. As an equal exchange, the Mythological Hydra will restrain its instinctual will, which comes from its Bloodline, and tacitly permit the human army to quietly cross its territory to reach the Unnamed Plains to the west.

As an aside, the ancient instinct the Mythological Hydra follows is to maintain the natural law of the marsh: to devour, transform, and then strengthen the life forms of the marsh. Since we both swore an oath to the origin of the world, it is difficult for either of us to go back on our word. Thus, I must always carry the seed of will, which was condensed from the water element by the Mythological Hydra, and cannot send someone to deliver it to Rose Manor for my love to play with and appreciate.

I promise you, once we have resolved the crisis of the Ant-man monsters, I will take you and Trisley on a long journey to the northern coastline of the Eastern Alliance to fulfill my promise to the mythological behemoth—we will set sail from Port Rose on a fleet from the Centaur Hills, travel along the Goldwater River, and arrive at a port on the northern coast. I think it will surely be our enclave seaport.

My love, during our long voyage in the near future, you will have plenty of time to appreciate the Mythological Hydra’s orb.

To get back to the point, I am not sure how much the Mythological Hydra improved its authority over Law by studying my wind element perception, but I benefited immensely from it.

The Hydra Lizard has always been seen as a beast-type, but this one awakened its ancient memories and became a mythological wisdom-type. However, its lifespan has at most one hundred and fifty years remaining.

I was once puzzled: why were the Chosen Archwizards of over ten thousand years ago able to suppress the Dragons? And why did the Dragons, with their long lives, immense power, and great wisdom, disappear?

The Mythological Hydra Lizard, a peer to the Dragons, has revealed one possibility to me.

I surmise that at the dawn of creation, Creator Taelon Ruier divided his divine nature and created many individual life forms to reshape the physical world. They were the first primordial beings, each shouldering a different creative mission, and they gradually evolved into Ancient Behemoths, which can also be called Ancient Gods.

The Ancient Gods and their offspring were as massive as mountains and possessed infinite power, which made it easier for them to reshape the world. It’s like a game of building blocks; a child is like a giant relative to the blocks, making it easy to build according to their own ideas. However, once the structure is built, it can also be easily destroyed by a big person. By the same token, the Ancient Behemoths could create the world, but they also had the power to destroy it. This was not in line with the Creator’s will, so the Ancient Behemoths and their offspring went from large to small, from strong to weak, from few to many, and from long-lived to short-lived. This is what conforms to the fundamental law of creating and maintaining the world.

As the laws of the world grew more rigid, the size and power of the ancient Dragons continued to diminish, to the point that they were driven away by human Wizards. The conflict between the two sides was inevitable, because the Dragon race belongs to the wisdom-type.

Wisdom, which represents one’s own cognition and application of the world’s laws, must ultimately be reflected in the competition for resources.

Hydra Lizards, on the other hand, are a beast-type lacking in wisdom, strictly constrained by instinct. They almost never leave their marshes, and despite their enormous size and immense power, they do not disrupt the overall environment of the physical world.

I am certain that the Hydra Lizards of ancient times possessed wisdom, but they abandoned it, choosing another form of limitation that allowed them to retain their massive size, extraordinary power, long lifespans, and complete Talent Tree.

The evolution of the world’s laws from a higher to a lower state reveals Creator Taelon Ruier’s Path: dispersing divinity, propagating life, and nurturing souls. As the Taelon World becomes more complete and sentient life grows more diverse, His divine power also grows stronger.

The Hydra Lizard is a perfect example of this. They disperse their soul into nine parts, making them beasts whose instincts are stronger than their wisdom. When their nine souls achieve unity, they become wise, mythological creatures.

This gave me a tremendous inspiration—a secret art for tempering spiritual power became feasible.

During my visit to the Theocracy of Ayr, I browsed several meditation methods for tempering the spirit that were in the Church’s collection. Unfortunately, those methods either relied on a Wizard’s magic or a clergy’s holy power. It was impossible for Knights and ordinary people to use them to temper their spirit.

However, based on those meditation methods and combined with the mysteries of the Hydra Lizard, I deduced a spiritual secret art applicable to all humans.

Its principle is the dispersion and condensation of spiritual power. The practice method is mainly visualizing sleep. Through continuous practice, the spiritual power that would otherwise be consumed in sleep is stored in a visualization object, allowing it to grow and strengthen. When needed, the spiritual power can be drawn from the visualization object to achieve the effect of breaking through one’s spiritual limits.

Of course, dispersing one’s spiritual power would certainly lower one’s intelligence, but deep sleep is an instinct for all life. What does it matter if one’s intelligence is lowered during sleep?

This is a pure Forging Method, but it still has three extraordinary effects:

The first is strength and longevity. Practitioners, with the aid of potions, can theoretically grow to the peak of human potential, which is the physique of an initial-rank Bronze Knight and a lifespan of one hundred and forty years. Tofwen the Wizard of Aerie Fortress has verified that the limit of human lifespan is indeed one hundred and forty years.

The second effect is spiritual release. The practitioner actively releases the spiritual power stored in the visualization object. Note, this will not increase the strength of the Spirit attribute, nor will it cause damage to the soul, but it can extend one’s vigor. For example, a Bronze Knight’s vigor is depleted after three hours of continuously operating their Aura at maximum intensity. By releasing their reserve of spiritual power, they can continue to channel their Aura for a period of time. The effect of extended vigor is related to the degree of mastery of the secret art.

The third is spiritual breakthrough. The practitioner can integrate with the visualization object, extracting the spiritual power stored within to break through their current spiritual attribute limit. This process must be completed in visualization, completely cut off from the outside world. The practitioner needs extremely thorough protective measures.

As an extant primordial being, humanity’s Bloodline Law has commonalities with that of the Hydra Lizard. But we do not, after all, have nine heads, so the visualization object for this spiritual secret art is a three-headed Serpent Lizard. Its three heads represent three sub-souls without a conscious side, pointing to the earth element, wind element, and water element respectively. With the main soul as the fire element, the four elements construct a balanced personal world. I have named this spiritual secret art—the Poltanos Secret Art.

After I finished my exchange with the Mythological Hydra, I returned to the temporary settlement and entered a state of hibernation, focusing all my spiritual power on deducing this secret art.

This period of dormancy lasted longer than I had anticipated. When I awoke, eighteen days had passed. Imosen and Father Dayn had completed their negotiations with the leader of the Half-dragon tribe, agreeing on the route and precautions for the human legion to cross the Great Marsh. My troops have also already traversed the Great Marsh and entered the highland forests on the western side. The Great Plains, where the Forest Centaurs and Ant-man monsters are fighting, is just a stone’s throw away.

The steps of the Poltanos Secret Art, as well as the details of the negotiations with the Half-dragon tribe, are all written in a separate attachment for your reference.

My dearest Sylvia, I look forward to our reunion. Kiss Darling Trisley for me, and convey my apologies for not being able to write to her separately. Also, please be sure to take care of Nicole and my three personal handmaidens. Tell the Elina sisters to stop practicing the secret art I taught them; once we have perfected the Poltanos Secret Art, it will naturally be taught to them.

Forever loving you both,

Victor

January, Radiant Year 7574

Trisley put down the letter, her delicate little face flushed a brilliant crimson. She shot Sylvia a sideways glance and said in a light, cheerful voice, “Victor’s Poltanos Secret Art was designed for you.”

Sylvia was reclining on a daybed, her loose, comfortable spider silk nightgown clinging to her body, outlining her long, perfect curves. She extended a slender, flawless finger and beckoned to Trisley, raising an eyebrow with infinite charm as she said, “Come here, my sweet darling. My husband wants me to kiss you.”

Trisley was overwhelmed with a mixture of shyness and joy. After a moment of playful laughter with Sylvia, her emerald eyes shone with a captivating light. “Your Highness,” she said, her voice full of longing, “I believe the Poltanos Secret Art can stop the origin of the world’s erosion of you.”

A Spirit Knight’s spiritual power always grew uncontrollably, which was the root cause of elemental assimilation. The Poltanos Secret Art offered a possible solution, but Sylvia knew full well that only when the Poltanos Secret Art reached its highest level could it help her extend her life. And Victor was working hard towards that goal. A gentle, sweet smile touched her lips as she said, “The Poltanos Secret Art was designed for us. Are you feeling conflicted now?”

The spiritual breakthrough of the Poltanos Secret Art could indeed help a Silver Knight reach for the Gold rank. In fact, when combined with a Knight-path bloodline secret art, it could become a very sophisticated Knight secret art. It could also help Mind Warriors break through their spiritual barriers and reach a higher level of life.

Trisley missed Victor and wished her husband could return sooner, but Victor could only further perfect the spiritual secret art by understanding more laws and knowledge. A mythological Hydra Lizard was not as valuable a reference as a resurging Ancient God. Victor’s upcoming adventure was accompanied by a major opportunity.

“I am indeed very conflicted,” Trisley nodded, her expression hesitant.

“Don’t worry. I’ve read the attachments Victor sent back with two Ash Falcons. The specific details of the Poltanos Secret Art are self-consistent, which means Victor has already gained a preliminary grasp of it. His vigor will improve, and he’ll be able to use his Talent Tree for longer. With his current authority, there is almost nothing that can stand in his way.” Sylvia gracefully sat up from the daybed and, after a moment of thought, said, “My love’s wisdom is extraordinary. He knows how to make the right choice. If the mission to eliminate the resurgent Ancient God is too dangerous, he will choose to give up. The path he set for the human legion to cross the Great Marsh is proof of that. We must resolve his worries about what he’s left behind, to give him ample room to maneuver, so he doesn’t have to fight the resurgent Ancient God to the bitter end on the Ant-men’s home ground.”

Trisley nodded. “You’re right. The plains on the west side of the marsh are Victor’s planned main battlefield. According to the intelligence we have now, the war should happen in four to six years. During this time, each of our vassal families can train at least one elite unit of Swiftbird Rangers composed of level-2 Source Blood warriors. The Rose Knights’ aberrant war beasts will also begin to take shape. We will have an exceptionally powerful mobile force to face the Ant-man monsters on the plains and decide the outcome.”

Sylvia shook her head and said softly, “Our power alone is not enough. Victor designated the Great Plains as the main battlefield to protect the Centaur Hills. He has never given up on his sea access strategy… Of course, I am also reluctant to give up on any of the strategies Victor has devised.”

Trisley knitted her delicate brows and said in frustration, “In that case, the news of His Highness Randall’s expedition to the ant nest cannot be leaked. It will be very difficult for us to secure strong support from the various kingdoms and the Church… They are completely unprepared.”

“This will be an interesting challenge.” Sylvia said with a smile, “His Holiness the Pontiff wrote me a secret letter. He said he can only hide the news for us for one year, but he will inform Grand Commander Testier and have the Radiant Knights prepare. He asked what price we are willing to pay.”

Trisley asked in return, “What price does he want us to pay?”

Sylvia scoffed. “The leader of the Church has full confidence in His Excellency Miller. A top-tier God-favored like Miller is already the Church’s greatest trump card.”

Trisley was taken aback for a moment, then said hesitantly, “Are you saying the Church is optimistic about resolving the threat posed by the resurging Ancient God?”

“Precisely.” Sylvia nodded slightly and continued, “Clement believes Father Miller has made thorough arrangements, and the Church will cooperate with Victor’s actions. Since the threat of the Ancient God can be resolved, the Pontiff still hopes to gain a say in matters concerning The Golden Company, and also for the southern nations to form a Development Alliance. And the lakeside port in the Randt Imperial territory is an important symbol of this alliance.”

“I plan to have Sophia step forward to resolve the issue of building the port in the Randt Imperial territory. The Centaur Hills can offer the various kingdoms Swiftbird light cavalry equipment as a bargaining chip for Sophia to lead the negotiations, but the usage rights for the lakeside port in the Randt Imperial territory must be leased to The Golden Company… In truth, this is all according to Victor’s wishes. We need to pay a small price now to make this happen as soon as possible.”

Helping the great lords of the kingdoms train Swiftbird light cavalry troops would also be useful on the plains battlefield. Even if the lords were completely unaware of the impending war with the Ant-men, Sylvia was already guiding them to make military preparations.

Trisley nodded thoughtfully. “That’s a good idea. However, I’m afraid Aerie Fortress won’t agree. The Auguste family is still in a stalemate with Neo Wester over the issue of renouncing the title of Emperor.”

“If the Centaur Hills fall, how can Blinor City remain safe and sound?” Sylvia said faintly. “This war concerns the fate of the Gambis Kingdom. The House of Auguste and the three Dukes and one Marquess cannot stand by and do nothing. Aerie Fortress has the right to know the truth. You write a secret letter to Aerie Fortress, asking Catherine to come to Red Frost Tree Manor in the name of visiting Victor. I will personally receive her.”

Trisley said in a soft voice, “I’ll take care of that in a moment… Sylvia, do you have any other instructions?”

Sylvia thought for a moment and asked, “Is Lilia still refusing to cooperate?”

A strange expression crossed Trisley’s face, a mixture of dissatisfaction and gratification. She shook her head and said, “She says those mountain folk strongholds were built with Victor’s heart and soul, and without Victor’s order, she would rather die than dismantle them.”

Sylvia raised a slender, jade-like hand and gently caressed the letter from Victor, sighing softly, “The young handmaiden’s loyalty is commendable; she has not failed my love’s trust… Lilia has some cleverness, but she lacks vision and wisdom. Victor’s strategic groundwork is a series of interlocking rings. The mountain folk strongholds once served a purpose, but ever since Sophia became involved in The Golden Company’s strategy, they have become redundant. The massive profits earned from the coffee trade aren’t even enough to support those mountain folk. Besides, the Centaur Hills is expanding its army for the war and desperately needs people. I allowed Lilia to transfer some of the mountain folk hunters to Randell Fief, for Nicole to form a mercenary legion. Go and tell her, this is my final bottom line. Unless she has my love’s Midas touch and flawless abilities, the mountain folk strongholds controlled by Randell Fief will inevitably stir up a bloody turmoil. Not only will the strongholds be lost, but I will not protect her or the War Bear Mercenaries of Randell Fief.”

Chapter 761: Elevation and Suppression

“Has Victor ever spoken to you about the ‘Favor of the Force of Destiny’?”

“We’ve… discussed it.”

“Oh? And what did His Highness say?”

“His Highness said that if a town mayor were assassinated, all the residents of the town would know, the Father would inquire, and the lord would investigate thoroughly. Therefore, assassinating a town mayor is no easy feat, even if he is just an ordinary man. If a vagrant dies in a gutter, no one knows his name, no one cares about his past, and a pit in the countryside becomes his final resting place. He lived as if he were already dead. Thus, the town mayor is favored by the Force of Destiny; an unseen, untouchable power protects him.”

“Well said… Lilia, I hold others in little regard; in my eyes, ordinary people have no talent to speak of. Your ability to ignite the fire of the mind has nothing to do with your talent, but it was no accident either. For Victor and Nicole’s sake, I’ll give you a piece of advice. Many female knights of noble bloodline would gladly be His Highness Randell’s personal handmaiden. They admire His Highness’s beauty, but what they covet even more is the Favor of the Force of Destiny. By serving His Highness Randell, achieving the Silver rank is a certainty, and there’s even a chance to set foot in the Gold realm. Lilia, if you take one wrong step, you will surely plunge into the Abyss.”

Trisley’s advice still echoed in her ears. The exquisitely decorated noble carriage rolled across the iron-oak drawbridge and drove straight into the inner courtyard of Laketon Castle. Lilia gathered her turbulent thoughts. When an attendant sword-wielding handmaiden opened the carriage door, she extended a slender foot clad in a shimmering silver Gogen heel, stepped onto the footstool, and alighted gracefully.

“My Lady, welcome back.” The steward of Laketon Castle led several guard captains and senior servants in a respectful bow.

Lilia gave a reserved nod, her expression as calm and composed as ever, and asked, “Have the guests I invited arrived?”

The steward bowed slightly, answering meticulously, “Yes, My Lady. The guests are waiting for an audience with you in the third-floor lounge.”

Lilia pursed her red lips slightly and began to walk toward a side entrance of the castle. The steward followed three shoulder-widths behind her, while the attendants trailed in two neat columns. The guard captain, hand on his sword hilt, walked at the very front of the procession. They were all so well-trained that they knew to head to My Lady Lilia’s private lounge in Laketon Castle without needing their mistress’s command.

Lilia’s crisp, pleasant footsteps echoed in the dimly lit corridor; everyone else tried to walk as lightly as possible, further accentuating her presence.

This filled Lilia with confidence. She could feel a surge of power from the depths of her soul, spreading to every corner of her body. Her mind grew sharper and clearer, and her gaze became bright and focused, able to perceive the many details of her surroundings.

The noble lady’s aura was like an invisible whip, compelling her entourage to straighten their chests and focus their minds. At that moment, the demeanor of the group was like that of unsheathed swords, pushing Lilia’s spiritual power to its zenith.

Entering the familiar room, Lilia naturally sat down in the high-backed chair behind the desk and casually flipped through the various reports placed upon it. The attendants went about their duties in an orderly fashion. The castle steward stood with his hands folded, waiting, and asked, “My Lady, would you like to see the guests now?”

Lilia looked up at the steward and noticed his fingers were pressed against the seams of his trousers, steady as bedrock. This was no easy feat for an ordinary man of his age; the steward was only able to keep his fingers so steady for a short time when his vigor was particularly high.

The corners of her lips turned up slightly in a gentle smile as she instructed, “I want to see the guests in half an hour.”

“As you wish, my esteemed lady.” The castle steward placed a hand over his chest in a salute, took two steps back, and then turned to leave the room.

Noble etiquette was a profound and complex study, filled with strict and elaborate rules. Lilia remembered a long time ago when the War Bear Mercenary Company had rescued a bard in distress. He had put on airs all day long, even boasting to the mercenaries about the study of noble etiquette, only to be met with their collective ridicule. Exasperated, the unfortunate poet had once shouted:

“Only a fool would regard a noble as a fool. The study of noble etiquette is profound and mysterious, by no means a set of empty formalities for showing off.”

As for how profound and mysterious it was, the bard had hemmed and hawed, unable to provide a convincing explanation.

Now that Lilia had ignited the fire of the mind, a veil had been lifted from the world’s mysteries, allowing her to glimpse a part of the truth. Things she couldn’t understand before became clear, and things she couldn’t figure out now made sense.

The nobles ruled the kingdoms; how could they be fools, idly creating a set of cumbersome shackles for themselves, only to be mocked behind their backs by the ignorant, vulgar lower-class people?

The study of noble etiquette covered all aspects of daily life and had a strong sense of ritual. Its main purpose was elevation. The master spurred on the attendant, and the attendant supervised the master. They elevated each other, progressed together, never slacking for a moment, becoming more diligent, more intelligent, stronger, and calmer. In the end, this resulted in an outstanding, elegant disposition.

It was hard to imagine an attendant waking up later than their master, and it was hard to imagine a master who could lie in bed with a clear conscience while surrounded by attendants. He could not even be groggy upon opening his eyes but had to invigorate his spirit. This spiritual elevation would carry through the entire day.

Victor had once pointed out explicitly: The study of noble etiquette is a well-known and effective spiritual secret art that can enhance the spiritual power of both master and attendants. But it has a significant limitation—it must be paved with power and influence.

The great families would send their young heirs to serve as attendants to experienced old knights, beginning their training in etiquette from an early age. This could help them awaken their knight’s bloodline. As for the minor families, even if they wanted to indulge in such formalities and put on airs, they simply didn’t have the resources.

Lilia had received strict handmaiden training at Rose Manor. She was His Highness Randell’s personal handmaiden and a lady of the House of Randell. Though she did not have a knight’s bloodline, no one would question her noble status.

Because she was now a true noble—beautiful, elegant, and holding power in her hands.

But she was not a Knight, after all. The difference between a Knight-Noble and a regular noble was that power was a tool for the Knight-Noble to awaken their strength, but for a regular noble, it was the Source of Power itself.

In truth, it wasn’t only noble etiquette that could elevate a person’s spiritual power. Everyone played a role of elevating and being elevated, as long as they had companions. It was like Narsen and the War Bear Mercenary Company; the mercenaries admired his strength and looked to him as their commander. The entire War Bear Mercenary Company served to elevate Narsen, pushing him to become even stronger, and Narsen’s strength in turn elevated the War Bear Mercenaries. They at least had to be capable of fighting alongside Commander Narsen.

Where there is elevation, there is suppression.

The cadets at the Randell Fief’s Retainer Training Camp were all chosen from the best of the best. They practiced the same Source Blood Secret Art and consumed equal shares of the secret art potion. Those who excelled received praise from the instructors and admiration from their peers. Honor and pride brought them confidence and the motivation to climb higher. Their training results would improve, and they could eventually win a spot to cultivate the third-level Source Blood Secret Art, perhaps even becoming initial-rank Mind Warriors. Meanwhile, the worst-performing cadets would be ignored by the instructors and ridiculed by their classmates. Listless and unlikely to achieve much, they would be eliminated after two years, becoming at best level one Sourceblood Warriors, with strength comparable to an ordinary soldier.

Initial-rank Mind Warriors were the family’s elite. One couldn’t say the level one Sourceblood Warriors were sacrifices, but on the battlefield, their casualties would certainly be the highest.

People with equal opportunities had their fates diverge to opposite extremes.

The competitive elimination system of the Retainer Training Camp was personally established by Victor. The family’s resources were limited; only the elite of the elite could master the third-level Source Blood Secret Art and become initial-rank Mind Warriors. If every retainer cadet were treated equally, the training camp would only produce a batch of mediocrities.

The laggards received no encouragement from the instructors and became cautionary tales for the camp. Their own Force of Destiny was siphoned away by the outstanding cadets; they were, in effect, stepping stones for the Mind Warriors.

Nearly half a million people in the Randell Fief had heard of My Lady Lilia’s fame, but few knew how much endless scheming she had gone through, stepping on the Elina sisters’ shoulders to get to where she was today.

The twin sisters were female apprentice knights at Rose Manor, yet Lilia, who came from a mercenary background, was the one who had ignited the fire of the mind.

Lilia stared at her hands, lost in thought. They were long and beautiful, flawless and fair, their skin as tender and smooth as fine jade. Yet they could pinch the wings of a bee or snap the bones of a brown bear, just like the hands of a female knight. But if she weren’t the Gold-Eyed Earl’s personal handmaiden, My Lady Lilia of the House of Randell, even if she had been lucky enough to ignite the fire of the mind, these hands would be like a mercenary’s—with rough, dark skin, covered in calluses and scars.

Once a female knight advanced to the extraordinary realm, she no longer needed methods of elevation and suppression; they themselves were paragons of beauty and elegance. But if a regular noble lost their power, further progress would become exceedingly difficult.

The ignited fire of the mind would not be extinguished, and the power she possessed would not be lost, but Lilia would never be willing to return to her past. She was afraid of losing her beauty, her intelligence, and ultimately, her husband’s favor and trust.

An attendant led a man of medium height with graying hair into the room. Lilia reined in her wandering thoughts and waved her hand gently. The attendants all bowed and withdrew, leaving only Elite Guard Kane and four initial-rank Mind Warriors in the room.

Lilia looked at the guest opposite her, her red lips parting into a smile. “Barol, we haven’t seen each other in nearly four years. You look much younger.”

The founder of the Quicksilver spies kept his head down, his voice hoarse. “My Lady Lilia, I received a summons from My Lady Nicole… You should be aware that Quicksilver answers only to My lord Earl. When the Earl is not present, we take orders from My Lady Nicole.”

Barol’s failure to respond to Lilia’s pleasantries displeased her, and her gaze turned cold. But he was, after all, a spy chief personally promoted by her husband, and he was abiding by the rules of the family’s spies. Lilia couldn’t very well reprimand him. After a moment’s thought, she said lightly, “I’ve run into some trouble. I used My Lady Nicole’s name to summon you, hoping that for the sake of our time working together to develop the Randell Fief, you might help me come up with a solution.”

The old spy was silent for two seconds before responding cautiously, “Please speak, My Lady, but I cannot guarantee I can solve your troubles.”

“Good!”

Lilia broke into a smile, her gentle, melodious voice filled with a noble lady’s grace. “His Highness’s expedition to the Endless Forest was sudden, and before he left, he gave me no instructions on how to handle the matter of the smuggling caravans and the mountain folk strongholds. My lord Trisley has stated clearly that a war is coming to the Centaur Hills, and the family urgently needs more manpower to expand its forces. The mountain folk strongholds and secret training camps under the Randell family’s control have over one hundred thousand people. We could mobilize at least forty thousand hunters to incorporate into the House of Randell’s mercenary legion. These strongholds have always been managed jointly by the smuggling caravans and Quicksilver. I particularly wanted to ask for your opinion.”

“My Lady, I have no opinion,” the old spy stated calmly.

“Before His Highness left, did he give Quicksilver any instructions regarding the mountain folk strongholds?”

“The Master gave no special instructions.”

Lilia’s smile grew even more brilliant. She nodded. “Very well… I am preparing to recall personnel from the various mountain folk strongholds. We’ve supported them for over a decade, spending hundreds of thousands of Gold Sol, and they have contributed little to the family. It is time for them to do their part.”

Barol bowed. “That is acceptable… As long as My Lady Nicole gives the order, Quicksilver will fully cooperate with the family’s actions.”

Lilia’s eyes narrowed slightly, and she shook her head with a wry laugh. “His Highness and My Lady are not short of people who follow orders blindly. If My Lady Nicole has to do everything personally, then what is our value?”

Barol said expressionlessly, “Quicksilver answers only to the Master. Quicksilver’s value lies in its absolute obedience to the Master.”

Lilia finally grew angry. Her pretty face fell as she said coldly, “Let me be direct. Recalling the forces from the mountain folk strongholds is in the family’s best interest. But His Highness gave no such order before he left. If we act on our own authority, and His Highness returns and wishes to punish us, My Lady Nicole can speak on our behalf. But if My Lady Nicole acts on her own authority, do you think we have the right to plead for her?”

Barol shook his head, insisting, “I require a personal order from My Lady Nicole.”

Lilia flew into a rage. She grabbed a scroll and threw it in Barol’s face, sneering, “You old coot, trying to wash your hands of this… Fine! This is my personal order. I alone will bear His Highness’s thunderous wrath!”

Barol did not bend down to pick up the scroll at his feet. He just stood there with his head bowed, silent.

Lilia had never felt such antipathy for someone. Her gaze was as cold and sharp as a dagger. She stared at the old spy for a long while before finally nodding with a sarcastic smile. “I understand… You don’t believe that My Lady Nicole and I will plead your case to His Highness. You’re afraid I’ll make you the scapegoat, that my personal order doesn’t carry enough weight… Since you wish to display your loyalty, I will grant you your wish.”

“Men, seize him and lock him in the dungeon.”

Kane, the Crouching Ox Militiaman, waved his hand, and two third-level Source-Blood Militia immediately stepped forward to grab Barol by the shoulders and push him out of the room. The old spy was cooperative, but he didn’t spare Lilia a single glance, even as he was being escorted out.

Lilia leaned back in her high-backed chair and pouted with displeasure, thinking to herself: What an old fox. When Victor returns, I must make sure that old fox is gone for good.

The mountain folk strongholds were originally controlled by the War Bear Mercenaries’ smuggling caravan. But the organization had expanded too quickly, and the War Bear Mercenaries couldn’t keep up with the manpower demands. Moreover, the War Bear Mercenaries in charge of the smuggling caravans were getting older and rising in status, gradually shifting their focus to cultivating the next generation. They also had to help Narsen manage the mercenary legion. Thus, at Victor’s instruction, Quicksilver had taken over a portion of the smuggling caravans.

The mountain folk strongholds in the kingdoms of Gambis, Dodor, and Naville were still under Lilia’s management, but the ones in the Sasan Empire and the Kingdom of Sus had been established solely by Quicksilver. Recalling these people to the Randell Fief would be impossible without mobilizing Quicksilver.

Lilia admitted that every part of Trisley’s analysis was sound. The mountain folk strongholds were now bloated and unwieldy. With Victor away, if they were exposed to the various lords in the region, they would surely be wiped out. If that happened, all of the House of Randell’s initial investment would have been for nothing. Recalling the mountain folk hunters the family had trained to the Randell Fief was the most logical course of action.

The problem was that acting without Victor’s command and abandoning the mountain folk stronghold network was the most illogical thing of all.

If Lady Sylvia had wanted Nicole to issue the order directly, why would she have forced Lilia to come forward? This was, in fact, a common practice to maintain unity among the family’s upper echelons.

If Lilia didn’t dare to take responsibility for his lady, why would Sylvia have any use for her?

Not only would she not use her, she would cast her back into the dust.

Victor had once told Lilia that the fire of the mind has different levels. Hers was still at the most initial stage. Only when the fire of the mind illuminated both within and without would it be possible to challenge the realm of the Touch of the Mind. If Lilia were to fall from her high position, it would be nearly impossible to climb back up, let alone advance her realm.

The little personal handmaiden had no choice. However, Lilia had a plan. She could recall the forces from the mountain folk strongholds step-by-step, starting with the non-critical nodes. She would control the entire process to span two or three years. By then, Victor should have returned. The mountain folk stronghold network would not be completely dismantled, and there would still be room to salvage the situation. This way, His Highness Randell would not be consumed by thunderous wrath.

Lilia had wanted to plan and discuss this with Barol, but she never imagined that he would rather be locked in a dungeon to shirk responsibility, leaving Lilia to bear all the consequences alone.

The old spy was cunning and treacherous, showing no regard for their past relationship. There was no need for Lilia to elaborate further with him. She decided to take over Quicksilver Manor and begin by withdrawing the mountain folk strongholds in the Sasan Empire and the Kingdom of Sus.

Quicksilver’s upper management consisted of more than just Barol. And that old fox, in his dungeon, would cooperate with the family’s actions to withdraw the mountain folk hunters and smuggling caravans. He knew very well that without His Highness Randell’s protection, the mountain folk strongholds were like candles in the wind, liable to be extinguished at any moment.

Just as Lilia was deliberating over her next steps, Kane pushed open the door, entered the room, and reported in a low voice, “My Lady, that old fellow just killed himself.”

“What?!” Lilia’s face drained of all color, and she shot up from her chair.

Chapter 762: The Eastern Advance Plan Is Triggered

“So, Barol is really dead?”

Nicole set down the silver coffee cup engraved with a moon pattern and lifted her beautiful face. Her clear, emerald-green eyes reflected Lilia’s bewildered and guilty expression. She wore a simple, plain white, cinched dress, her chestnut hair cascading over her shoulders. With her slender, well-proportioned legs crossed beneath her skirt, she lounged languidly in a wicker chair on the balcony.

In Lilia’s eyes, while Nicole’s features were as delicate and beautiful as ever, the aggressive, heroic air about her had become restrained. Her entire being exuded a gentle, natural charm. As the spring sunlight fell upon her, her fair, dewy skin reflected a faint, hazy halo, shimmering and subtle, like the Lady of the Lake from legends.

Victor, Caligula, and Narsen had left the Centaur Hills, but the House of Randell now had a new Extraordinary Knight.

Only an Extraordinary Knight was worthy of protecting the interests of the House of Randell. Lilia’s heart instantly felt much more at ease. She let out a soft breath and lowered her head. “He had a small knife hidden in a seam of his boot,” she said. “It was coated with a potent poison. When the guards weren’t looking, he stabbed himself once in the heart and once in the neck. He was dead within a few breaths; the dungeon guards had no time to save him… This is all my fault. I didn’t think of Barol as a real prisoner, so the dungeon guards never made him change his clothes or searched him.”

Nicole smiled and shook her head, gesturing for Lilia to sit down. “Victor doesn’t let us interfere with Quicksilver’s affairs, so I have almost no impression of Barol. What do you know about him?” she asked.

Lilia thought for a moment before replying, “When the Randell Fief was first being developed, Barol and I worked together for a few years. Among the followers, he was a man of some experience and had a good understanding of how nobles operated. Back then, His Highness Randell often sought his counsel and treated him like an advisor. Later, when the family established the Quicksilver spies, Barol rarely appeared in the Randell Fief anymore.”

Nicole raised an eyebrow. “So you and Barol aren’t familiar with each other?”

“That’s right, we are not,” Lilia nodded, speaking frankly. “But my impression of Barol is that he’s cunning and sinister. He once used the trick of faking his death to escape the magistrate of Black Fortress Town, but His Highness rooted him out, and so he swore fealty to the House of Randell. I don’t believe Barol is a person of fierce and reckless integrity. I suspect the ‘Barol’ I saw was one of his body double death commandos.”

“Barol is a master of disguise, and few in Laketon are familiar with his physical features. However, he has several adopted sons and daughters in the Randell Fief: Munk the magistrate, the Quicksilver spies Mia, Fitch, and Spider, and the scholars Paul and Funia. Paul has already left Quicksilver after earning His Highness’s favor, so I had the others go identify the body.”

A look of admiration appeared on Nicole’s face. “Oh?” she asked with great interest. “And what did they say?”

Lilia pursed her lips and shook her head. “None of them could confirm the body’s identity… I’ve already placed them all under house arrest separately.”

Nicole sighed and chuckled in spite of herself. “Little sister Lilia, you’ve fallen into a trap.”

“The spies at Rose Manor will spend years imitating a person’s physical characteristics. Old scars and conspicuous moles can be artificially created… I’m sure Barol has similar skills. Asking those people to identify their adoptive father was probably putting them in a difficult position. The fact that they all said they couldn’t confirm if the body was Barol’s points to one of two possibilities. First, they genuinely couldn’t identify Barol’s body double. Second, they knew but refused to report it.”

Lilia nodded repeatedly. It was precisely these doubts that had led her to place Barol’s adopted children under house arrest.

But Nicole’s tone shifted. “You don’t really think a spy treats his adopted children the same way adoptive parents in vassal families do, do you?” she said with a smile. “An old spy like Barol is infertile and naturally wouldn’t have a normal concept of family. They are cold and ruthless, showing absolute obedience only to their master. Their adopted children are merely tools to be used. When Barol adopted Munk, Mia, Fitch, Spider, and Red Wolf, he had already lost his original master and was like a stray dog without a home. He swore fealty to Victor and joined the House of Randell; he would never have trusted his old subordinates.”

Nicole was implying that Munk and the others couldn’t identify Barol’s double and knew nothing about the matter.

The death commando spies trained by the great families were all selected from children under the age of four. They were trained from a young age, their fertility sealed with secret potions and arts to enhance their physical abilities and intelligence. This also rendered them incapable of romantic love, preventing emotional entanglements with outsiders and thus reducing the risk of them losing control.

The resources required to cultivate a death commando spy were beyond what an ordinary person could afford. Barol’s original master had died at the hands of Neo Wester, leaving him a masterless wanderer, living in constant fear. He had neither the resources nor the motivation to train true death commandos. The orphans he adopted in Black Fortress Town were, at best, helpers he needed for his gang activities.

Monkey, Fitch, Mia, Red Wolf, and Spider all had normal human physiological and emotional needs, so it was impossible for them to have earned Barol’s true acceptance. In fact, Barol did indeed use their families to coerce them into working for him.

Conversely, Barol wasn’t a titled noble. Why would a mere ruffian leader from Black Fortress Town inspire such undying loyalty?

Nicole’s deduction was perfectly sound.

If Barol was playing the trick of faking his death, he would want to leave as few clues as possible—ideally, none at all.

In that case, if his body double committed suicide in the dungeon, how would he get the news?

The relationship between the Laketon magistrate and Barol was no secret. When My Lady Lilia placed the magistrate, Monkey, and several Quicksilver leaders under house arrest, Barol would naturally know something was amiss.

The old spy had long been prepared. He was now in disguise and on the run, hiding in some obscure corner of the world. It would be nearly impossible to find him through normal means.

Lilia’s face turned pale, and she wrung her hands. As the general manager of the Randell Fief, her wisdom and vision far surpassed what they once were, yet she had been outplayed by the unassuming Barol. This left her both frustrated and furious. “For Barol to fake his death to escape is an act of treason,” she said, gritting her teeth.

Nicole wasn’t surprised at all. Regular nobles were always influenced by their emotions and desires, and Lilia, flying into a rage from shame and humiliation, had forgotten what was truly important.

Having resonated with thirty-two Elemental Nodes and advanced to a High-ranked Silver Knight, Nicole’s level of life had taken a qualitative leap. She saw things from an extraordinary perspective and could now understand Lady Sylvia’s intention in bypassing her and appointing Lilia to handle the matter of the mountain folk.

The relationship between a lord and his wife was hopelessly entangled with the affairs of their house. In an ordinary family, it was common for a couple to argue and quarrel, but a lord and his wife could not let their conflicts become public. It would cause cracks to form within the family, attract external predators, and lead to varying degrees of loss.

In other words, a quarrel between a lord and his wife required a buffer, careful groundwork, and subtlety. Their respective confidants often became the targets for venting their frustrations.

A quarrel between extraordinary being lords was even more unusual. Victor had left home this time without a word. Sylvia was furious, and in her anger, she had turned on his darling mountain folk strongholds. An argument between a Spirit Knight and a Raging Wind Sword Saint was affecting the fate of over one hundred thousand people, and it was certain that some would lose their lives because of it.

Nicole should have been the buffer between Sylvia and Victor, but Sylvia believed she had a chance to advance to Gold Knight, so she used Lilia as a punching bag instead.

The Raging Wind Sword Saint was blessed with the Favor of the Force of Destiny. If he were to bear a grudge against Nicole, it wouldn’t just affect her attempt to reach the Gold realm—it would have an immensely negative impact.

Lilia was not a noblewoman of the high-ranked knightly class, so she was free from such concerns. When Victor returned to the family and learned what had happened, he might punish Lilia. But given his gentle nature and fondness for old ties, with Narsen and Nicole pleading on her behalf, the matter would blow over in time.

Lady Sylvia’s intentions were truly thoughtful, and Nicole was grateful. Feeling somewhat apologetic toward Lilia, she decided to enlighten her. “Little sister Lilia,” she said gently, “as you saw with your own eyes, Barol is indeed dead.”

Meeting Lilia’s confused gaze, she smiled faintly and said, “His Highness possesses extraordinary wisdom. Anything we can think of, he has already thought of. The mountain folk strongholds controlled by the family are scattered throughout the kingdoms. The three kingdoms south of the Worton Plains are manageable, but the strongholds in the Sasan Empire and the Kingdom of Sus are too far for our reach. Even sending a message from the Randell Fief would take several months… If a great lord were to discover the connection between the strongholds and the House of Randell, we could firmly deny it, and they wouldn’t be able to do anything to us. However, those mountain folk hunters would fall right into their pockets. His Highness invested so many resources; how could he let someone else pluck the fruit he worked so hard to cultivate?”

“The strongholds in the Sasan Empire and the Kingdom of Sus are too far from us. Even if we wanted to withdraw all of them, it would not only be very difficult but also very easy to expose ourselves.”

“Barol faking his death was actually His Highness’s way of severing a portion of the Quicksilver spies and mountain folk strongholds from the family’s direct command, allowing them to go deeper underground…”

Nicole’s guess was correct. Victor’s true ambition was the coastline of the Eastern Alliance. With the Sasan Empire and the Kingdom of Naville currently occupying the old lands of the Centaur kingdom north of the Giantstone Mountains, the northern lords and the Church were organizing large numbers of refugees to settle in the Pioneer Fiefs. They were also offering generous terms to encourage mercenary companies and Rangers to head there to deal with the endless hordes of beastmen.

The human kingdoms were now in a period of the most frequent population movement, providing the perfect external conditions for the armed forces of the mountain folk strongholds to relocate to the Eastern Alliance.

Following Victor’s arrangement, Barol was to break up and reorganize the mountain folk strongholds within the Sasan Empire, disguising them as small and medium-sized mercenary companies. They would travel east from the northern Pioneer Fiefs along the Giantstone Mountains, then turn south at the Gate of Death in the Kingdom of Naville, find a way through the Naville Mountains into the Kingdom of Sus, and finally reach the Eastern Alliance to establish a stable power base.

As for the mountain folk strongholds in the Kingdom of Sus, their infiltration into the Eastern Alliance was even more convenient. They were to be the vanguards of the Eastern Advance Plan, responsible for receiving the personnel who followed.

Victor had formulated a contingency for the Eastern Advance Plan years ago. However, as it was during the beastman war, he himself couldn’t be certain if the mass population movement in the northern Pioneer Fiefs would occur. The plan had remained a contingency, and besides Barol, the one who would implement it, Victor had not mentioned this plan involving more than ten thousand people to anyone else.

This time, Sylvia’s move against the mountain folk strongholds and Lilia’s conversation with Barol had triggered the Eastern Advance Plan.

Barol’s faked death was indeed meant to sever the connection between the mountain folk strongholds and the House of Randell. Even if the private migration of the mountain folk hunters was noticed, it wouldn’t lead to them being caught all in one net by the northern lords, nor would it implicate the House of Randell. Otherwise, the lords and the Church might deduce Victor’s ambitions toward the Eastern Alliance.

The sea access strategy was a secret of the Centaur Hills, and Nicole would never reveal the full truth to Lilia. She only said, “Barol has experience in establishing mountain folk strongholds. With him and some of the Quicksilver spies lying low outside, Victor will still have use for them in the future.”

“As for whether Barol is a traitor…”

Nicole paused, then sneered, “Hmph, he relies on the Elite Guards cultivated by His Highness. I’d like to see how he could betray the family and still keep his life. Looking across all the human kingdoms, who else is more worthy of Barol’s fealty than our Highness?”

“Darling, you didn’t lose to Barol, you lost to Victor.”

Hearing this, Lilia’s gloomy mood instantly brightened. A sense of honor and pride filled her heart. Her eyes curved into crescents as she said, “So that’s how it is.”

Nicole smiled and nodded, instructing, “Go all out. Withdraw all the mountain folk hunters under your control back to the Randell Fief. They are warriors trained by Victor, and they are also our mercenary soldiers.”

Lilia rose gracefully, curtsying with the hem of her skirt. “As you wish, My Lady Randall.”

“Oh, right, recall The Bear Company from the Ghost Forest pioneering outpost,” Nicole called out to Lilia, knitting her willow-like brows and shaking her head slightly. “They belong to the House of Randell too… The Church is going all out to help the Sassans recruit refugee mercenary companies, and The Bear Company has a big reputation now. I can’t be at ease with them staying out there.”

Lilia smiled with confidence. “Sister Nicole, please don’t worry. Uncle Baritt has been in charge of The Bear Company for so many years; he will definitely bring them all back in one piece.”

Lilia and Nicole probably couldn’t have imagined, not even in their wildest dreams, that Princess Roland Auguste and the young lady of House Nachtigal were also in The Bear Company…

Chapter 763: The Five-Day War

In the barracks of the Bear Company, twenty kilometers west of the Dodor Kingdom’s Ghost Forest pioneering outpost, old Commander Baritt sat in the main seat of the Council Hall, his mind in turmoil over a secret order from Silver Moon Manor that had arrived ten days prior.

The secret order was handwritten by Lilia and stamped with the seal of the Family General Steward. It demanded that he lead the Bear Company to Raven Town, at the northern end of the Centaur Hills, within two months to rest and recuperate. There, the Randall Fourth Legion would reorganize the Bear Company’s mercenaries, incorporating them into the Fourth Mercenary Legion. The families of the Bear Company mercenaries would all be granted Randell Fief tenant household registration, with each family being allocated fifty mu of rotational farmland and exempted from two years of rent.

My Lady Lilia’s terms were indeed generous, giving Baritt the capital he needed to win over his men. But her secret order made no mention of Baritt’s own position after returning to the family.

Baritt was an old veteran of the War Bear Mercenaries who had watched Narsen and his sister grow up. In those days, life in the War Bear Mercenary Company had been arduous, but Lilia was the pearl in everyone’s palm. If My Lady Lilia were now trying to buy Uncle Baritt with power and wealth, it would only sadden the old mercenary.

The reason for Baritt’s vexation was certainly not a greedy desire to cling to his position as Grand Commander of the Bear Company. An ordinary person came of age at fifteen and was considered long-lived if they reached sixty-five. He was turning fifty-five this year and had already entered the twilight of his life. Although he diligently practiced a secret art and the family regularly supplied him with precious life-extending potions, his vigor could not compare to his prime. What little ambition he possessed in his youth had long been worn away by a wandering mercenary life. Even if he returned to the Randell Fief, he had no desire to hold a post within the family. He only wished to carefully guide his not-yet-adult children and pave the way for his descendants.

The reason old Commander Baritt felt troubled was that he had now lost control of the Bear Company. Or perhaps, to put it more accurately, he had never truly controlled the real Bear Company. Not in the past, not now, and certainly not in the future.

The Bear Company had originated from a whimsical idea of His Highness Randall’s. The infantry phalanx he had designed was ridiculed by My Lady Nicole as completely worthless, and the result of their wargaming had been a crushing defeat. The young and still-immature His Highness Randall had been unwilling to accept it. To accumulate real combat experience with a Grand Legion, he decided to form a massive mercenary company. Then, a group of unsophisticated bumpkins from the War Bear Mercenaries wholeheartedly approved, mainly because the sheer strength of His Highness Randall’s Elite Guards gave them a bizarre sense of confidence. Later, Baritt became the commander of the Bear Company. Pocketing a large sum of money and accompanied by more than thirty of Randall’s Elite Guards, he had enthusiastically run from the Centaur Hills to the Southern Realm of the Dodor Kingdom, taking in wandering mercenaries, ruffians and scoundrels, and small refugee bands to pull together a force of several hundred men and establish the Bear Company.

Looking back on it now, Baritt realized that the Bear Company in its initial stage was, in truth, a large refugee band through and through. They couldn’t land any mercenary missions, but they did manage to snatch up plenty of hired labor jobs like road repair and construction—and that was through fighting and brawling, but mainly by undercutting the competition with low prices. As a result, Baritt, the commander, had to pay out of his own pocket to feed several hundred mouths.

It wasn’t until His Highness Randall ordered Baritt to cooperate with Narsen in ambushing Earl Ludwig at Stonetooth City in the Dodor Kingdom that the Bear Company transformed from a refugee band into a mercenary force.

With the Elite Guards and mountain folk hunters His Highness Randall had assigned him, the Bear Company not only completed the ambush mission but also grew in strength by leaps and bounds. Operating under his lady Sophia’s name, they made the lords of Dodor take notice.

The Bear Company first made a name for itself in the mercenary world when it was hired by the Dodor lords at the Ghost Forest pioneering outpost to fight against the prairie Gnolls and forest Gnoll clans.

At that time, the Dodor lords’ main legion had marched north to fight the great Centaur army, leaving them unable to attend to the defense of the Ghost Forest pioneering outpost. The refugee workers at the outpost fled one after another. To stabilize the situation, the Dodor lords offered extremely generous terms, recruiting mercenary companies and Rangers on a massive scale to take over the outpost’s defense.

The mercenary companies disbanded by the Wimbledon Merchant Association were desperate for work. They united to accept the Dodor lords’ employment, and with Commander Baritt’s company being the strongest, they flew the banner of the Bear Company for the first time.

The Dodorian forces left in the Ghost Forest pioneering outpost were pitifully small, so the mercenary companies and Rangers became the main fighting force against the Gnolls. To facilitate unified command, the resident priest of the pioneering outpost personally intervened, deciding to incorporate all the mercenary groups, large and small, under the banner of the largest one, the Bear Company.

That was the Bear Company’s peak period, boasting over three thousand armed mercenaries with more than eight thousand family members. The mercenaries fought while their families worked. From their Gathering income at the pioneering outpost, the Bear Company only needed to deduct the tithe and hand over a twenty-percent share to the Dodor lords. The remainder, sold to the outpost, belonged entirely to the Bear Company. The Dodorians also sold them second-hand military equipment and supplies and even helped them establish a two-hundred-man cavalry unit.

The Ghost Forest pioneering outpost had virtually become the Bear Company’s independent kingdom. Even if old Commander Baritt wasn’t the king, he was at least the governor of the outpost.

However, despite its impressive size, the Bear Company was ultimately a coalition of refugee mercenaries and Rangers. It was a safe bet that every one of the mercenary commanders, big or small, regardless of their strength, was as cunning as an old fox. In battle, they formed their own shifting alliances, gradually creating several powerful factions that could contend with the old commander for a say in matters concerning the Bear Company. Baritt could only compromise by appointing eight vice-commanders.

He was old, after all, and his own talents were limited. Even a few of the merchant association mercenary companies that had been with him from the start had been poached by others.

To this day, the mercenaries under Baritt’s direct control amounted to only one-tenth of the total. Lilia wanted him to bring the Bear Company back to the Randell Fief, but the eight vice-commanders each had their own thoughts; he feared they would not be so easily dealt with.

As Baritt was secretly fretting, the doors to the council hall were pushed open from the outside, and a young female mercenary with a reddish-brown ponytail burst in. With a vibrant air, she yelled, “Hey, Commander Uncle, you called me over, so have you made up your mind? Are you ready to beg me to take over as Grand Commander of the Bear Company? I’m telling you, I won’t agree so easily. You have to sincerely implore me three times… uh, twice, and only then will I reluctantly accept.”

Her voice was slightly hoarse yet full of youthful vitality, exuding an endearing enthusiasm.

For a moment, Baritt forgot his troubles and couldn’t help but laugh heartily. “Vice-Commander Viel, you’re not the only one with your eye on my seat. As long as everyone is convinced by you, you can have the position of Grand Commander.”

“Commander Uncle, you’re really going to give your position to me! Don’t you worry, leave the Bear Company to me. I’ll lead it to its zenith and make it the greatest mercenary company in the history of the human kingdoms!” The ponytailed female mercenary’s eyes shone as she patted her full chest and repeatedly assured him.

Baritt didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He was already used to her ways. All eight of the Bear Company’s vice-commanders wanted to push the old commander off his seat, but only Octavia’s open desire for the position didn’t vex him.

He deliberately teased her, reminding her with a grin, “I’ve been a mercenary for most of my life, and I’ve never heard of a mercenary company bigger than the Bear Company.”

“I will build up the Bear Company and make it a Legendary mercenary company,” the female mercenary said with great seriousness.

She was about twenty years old, dressed in bright, clean half-plate armor and semi-high-heeled women’s long war boots. The form-fitting attire was neat and practical, exuding a sense of power while accentuating her tall, slender figure and long, straight legs, leaving a sharp and capable impression. She had pretty features; her smooth, full forehead and high-bridged nose outlined a line of wisdom. Her skin was a healthy wheat color, her gray-green eyes were nimble and pure, and her lips were always upturned in a slightly cunning smile. A shallow, curved scar ran down her left cheek, from the corner of her eye all the way to her chin. It did not detract from her fine looks; rather, it added a touch of resolute, wild charm.

Looking into her sparkling eyes, Baritt couldn’t help but imagine the grand spectacle of the Bear Company becoming legendary in her hands. The old mercenary had to admit that Vice-Commander Octavia possessed a convincing, charismatic leadership.

He shook his head, pushing the unrealistic fantasy from his mind. Pointing to the chair in front of his desk, he said, “Let’s sit and talk.”

The youngest vice-commander of the Bear Company sat down and asked with a grin, “So, Commander Uncle, how do we handle the handover?”

Baritt waved his hand and said wearily, “No more jokes. Let’s talk business… Since the Five-Day War ended, the Bear Company’s situation has become increasingly worse. You must have heard that rumor going around the company. What are your thoughts?”

“Rumor… what rumor?” the young female mercenary asked, blinking with an innocent expression.

Octavia, a twenty-three-year-old female Ranger and an initial-rank apprentice knight, was the commander of the Fire Lion Mercenary Company. She had joined the Bear Company most recently and had the weakest faction, but the fact that she could stand out from among the numerous mercenary commanders and Rangers to become a vice-commander was a testament to her ability.

Baritt no longer expected to be able to bring the entire Bear Company back to the Centaur Hills, but if anyone could help him take more than half of them, it would have to be Octavia.

The story had to begin with last year’s Five-Day War.

In the first month of the Season of Wind last year, the Sasan refugee’s southern migration was officially declared over. The more than five thousand mercenary soldiers from the Centaur Hills no longer needed to protect the migration route. Following Duke York’s orders, they withdrew from the line along the Ghost Forest pioneering outpost. The Dodorians requested that the Bear Company first take over the outposts and camps abandoned by the Gambis mercenary legion, until Dodor’s army could be formally garrisoned there.

At the time, the Bear Company had only a little over thirty-four hundred armed mercenaries. To take over those abandoned outposts and camps, Baritt urgently armed over six hundred able-bodied men and women, but their forces were still stretched thin. The Bear Company had no choice but to pull back all its forward patrol mercenaries from the Ghost Forest front. The more than four thousand Bear Company mercenaries were scattered among outposts and camps of various sizes, their defensive strength weakened, and they had lost the ability to provide mobile reinforcements.

However, the promised Dodorian troops failed to appear. Meanwhile, the Gnoll tribes in the Ghost Forest, under pressure from the human pioneers, had long shown signs of unifying. With the human patrol forces withdrawn from the forest’s periphery, they finally united. Late on the night of February eleventh of the Season of Wind, over six thousand Gnolls amassed three times their number in Goblin and Kobold servants and burst forth from the Ghost Forest, attacking the forward outposts and camps garrisoned by the Bear Company mercenaries.

The Bear Company’s main barracks bore the brunt of the attack. Tens of thousands of beastmen monsters crashed against the barracks’ defensive line like a raging tide. From their higher ground, the Bear Company mercenaries used powerful bows and heavy crossbows to repel their attacks time and again, but the cunning Gnoll chief spotted a weak point in the defensive line and drove the immensely strong Bugbears and Kobolds to smash through a section of the Iron-wood fence.

The beastmen poured into the Bear Company barracks, where the mercenaries’ families—thousands of the old, weak, women, and children—were. Facing man-eating monsters, the humans had no path of retreat. The Bear Company mercenaries displayed unimaginable courage and strength. Anyone who could wield a weapon, even a wooden club or a pitchfork, fought desperately. The barracks was soaked in blood, the bodies of beastmen and mercenaries strewn everywhere. The mercenaries drove the beastmen out several times, only for them to break in again. The brutal tug-of-war lasted from night until dawn, when they finally repelled the Goblins, Kobolds, and Gnolls, and blocked the breach with obstacles.

Both sides were devastated by casualties and utterly exhausted. Seeing the attack had failed, the Gnoll chief led half of the beastmen to move north.

The mercenaries in the Bear Company barracks quickly realized that the Gnolls were preparing to attack the other, smaller strongholds. Those outposts and barracks were weakly defended, with a hundred men at most and as few as a few dozen; they stood no chance against the Gnoll onslaught. However, the mercenaries in the main barracks were too exhausted to fight, and more than half of the monsters were still outside the fence, watching them like tigers. All they could do was release messenger ravens to notify the Bear Company mercenaries in each stronghold of the impending beastmen attack and urge the Dodor commander at the pioneering outpost to the rear to send cavalry support.

Mercenaries on foot could not outrun Gnolls on the prairie, nor could they defend their strongholds. How many mercenaries would reunite with their families alive depended entirely on the speed and direction of the Dodor cavalry reinforcements. The only thing they could do was pray to the supreme Lord of Radiance.

Except for Octavia…

She tied the Bear Company’s banner to a long spear, slung a longsword at her waist, picked up the shield of a fallen warrior, and, ignoring her comrades’ pleas, scrambled over the obstacles at the breach in the fence. She rushed out into the open ground beyond the range of archers, facing the black mass of beastmen alone.

No one dared to run out and drag Octavia back. No one understood what she was trying to do. The only explanation was that the beautiful young female mercenary had been traumatized and was deliberately seeking death. Such things were not unheard of among young mercenaries.

They watched numbly as she used her shield to block the stone pellets from the Goblins’ slings and used her spear, wrapped with the Bear Company banner, to kill the Gnolls and Bugbears that got close to her. She was like a light-footed deer, dancing between the fangs and claws of the Gnolls; she was like an agile leopardess, fiercely killing every monster that showed an opening; she was like a cunning alpha wolf, rushing back to the safety of the barracks unharmed before she could be surrounded.

The Bear Company mercenaries provided covering fire with their bows and crossbows for the now-lucid Octavia. Some congratulated her, some were indifferent, some mocked, some praised. But she responded to all voices with a raised chin and tightly pressed lips. After a brief rest, she once again raised the banner embroidered with a bear’s head and charged out of the defensive perimeter.

Then a third, fourth, and fifth time…

Baritt would never forget that lone, slender back, proudly holding aloft the tattered banner stained red with blood in the light of the Dawn. She was a ray of light on the battlefield, dispelling the fear and weakness deep within the mercenaries’ hearts.

The sixth time Octavia charged out, the warriors of the Fire Lion Mercenary Company were by her side. The seventh time, Bear Company Vice-Commander “Spur” Biktorn led his men to follow her. The eighth time, the Ranger “Blind Swordsman” Quicker and Bear Company Vice-Commander “Bloodhawk” Harin joined her command. The ninth time, old Commander Baritt entrusted his most elite Black Raven Personal Guard to Octavia. Amid a wave of cheers, she took command of the Bear Company barracks.

A great leader can always inspire courage in the hearts of their followers and show them the path to victory.

Octavia proved this. Under her leadership, the Bear Company mercenaries fused into one for the first time. After paying a bloody price, they gradually became united, their advances and retreats fluid and coordinated.

She could always accurately predict the battlefield situation, achieving the greatest results for the smallest cost, directing the Bear Company mercenaries to attack, retreat, and rest in rotation. The Gnoll chief who had moved away was drawn back by the fighting outside the barracks, but it was no use. The foolish beastmen were still led by the nose by Octavia’s simplest tactics.

Relying on the barracks’ defensive fortifications, Octavia commanded the Bear Company mercenaries to tie down the beastmen monsters for four days and three nights, allowing their comrades garrisoned in the outposts along the line to survive.

On the morning of the fifth day, the stirring horns of the Dodor cavalry echoed across the battlefield. The Iron Wall Knights annihilated the forest Gnolls that had been besieging the Bear Company barracks in one fell swoop.

The Five-Day War was declared over. The Bear Company mercenaries lifted their Valkyrie, Octavia, and that dark-red Bear Company banner into the air with countless hands.

Octavia: the young female Ranger, Vice-Commander of the Bear Company, the Valkyrie of the Bear Company.

The scar on her face was left by the Gnoll chief, but that berserk and cunning beast paid with its life. A dozen Black Raven Personal Guards had thrown themselves at it without a thought for their own safety, and Octavia’s spear-banner pierced its heart.

The resident priest offered to have a High-ranked Priest remove the scar from her face, but Octavia refused, saying it was a testament to her honor and that every time she looked in the mirror, she would remember her fallen comrades.

Nobles placed great importance on appearance. Octavia was an initial-rank apprentice knight awakened by a cleansing potion. She originally had a chance to marry a minor noble on the strength of her military achievements, but because of the scar on her face, her chances were now slim.

The House of Randell likewise valued a Knight’s Bloodline and strength, but they also valued a person’s talent and character. Baritt felt that if he could bring Octavia back to Laketon, even if most of the Bear Company mercenaries were unwilling to follow him, it would still be a victory.

The old commander’s heart was afire, but his expression was exceptionally grave as he said in a deep voice, “Octavia, there’s a rumor within the Bear Company that the Five-Day War might have been a Dodor conspiracy… I believe it was.”

Chapter 764: The Bear Company Changes Hands

“The Five-Day War was a Dodor conspiracy?”

Old Captain Baritt didn’t elaborate, intending to give Viel some time to digest the stunning news. He left his seat, walked over to a cupboard, and returned with a plate of fresh prairie red-berries. He had spent a full fifteen Silver Sol to have the young ones in the Bear Company pick them from a nearby meadow.

The prairie red-berries tasted quite ordinary, with a faint sweetness mixed in with their sour tang. But compared to the happy smiles on the children’s faces, fifteen silver coins for a plate of common prairie fruit was well worth it.

Baritt had just picked up a red-berry and was about to pop it into his mouth when Vice-commander Viel snatched the entire plate away. He widened his eyes and feigned a rebuke, “Hey, don’t go too far. A female Ranger shouldn’t bully a slow old man.”

“You’re the Uncle Commander, and I’m the vice-commander. You’re supposed to take care of me,” Viel declared with righteous conviction, stuffing a handful of red-berries into her mouth.

“Every one of you is more capable than I am. You all want to be the Grand Commander of the Bear Company, so why have I been able to sit in this seat for so long?” Baritt chuckled. He was referring to the eight vice-commanders, including Viel.

Unfortunately, Vice-commander Viel was too busy dealing with the red-berries in her mouth to answer her superior’s question.

Baritt shook his head helplessly and said to himself, “It’s because I’m old and not very capable. In any case, none of you lot will submit to the others, so it’s better to let an old man like me stay in charge. Once you’ve decided a winner amongst yourselves, you can kick me out at any time.”

Hearing this, Viel actually lowered her head in embarrassment before quickly trying to comfort him. “Uncle Commander, you are experienced, clever, and capable. You still have quite a bit of strength… just a tiny bit less than me.”

Baritt was amused by the female Ranger’s bluntness. “You, you… what am I supposed to say to you? You’re still too young. The other vice-commanders wouldn’t think that way. I’ve been able to hold the position of the Bear Company’s commander because I’m old and weak, that much is true… The Dodor value this point, which is why they supported me in taking charge of a mercenary company with several thousand men. Those other fellows are younger, stronger, and more famous than me. How could the Dodor trust them to be the Grand Commander of the Bear Company?”

“They’re very shrewd. They only want to be the First Vice-Commander whose word is law; they would never kick an old man like me out of my seat. You’re the only one who clamors about taking my position all day. Even if I were to choose a successor, I’d have to choose someone old and without much skill. If I chose any one of you, it would be the end of you, and the end of the Bear Company.”

Viel furrowed her fine, slender brows and said with confusion, “I grew up in the Fire Lion Mercenary Company. We always let the most capable person be the commander.”

Baritt nodded. “That’s right. At its peak, the Bear Company had over ten thousand men under its banner. For the eight of you vice-commanders to have emerged, you must all be top-tier mercenaries, either Ferocious warriors or Rangers. The only flaw is that, apart from you, the rest of them are all getting on in years. Otherwise, they would have been recruited as retainers by some Knight-Lord long ago and wouldn’t have to struggle and scrape by in a mercenary company.”

“To be honest, the Bear Company is too large. It’s not the kind of mercenary company I’m used to, nor is it the kind the lords like. At our peak, we had nearly four thousand armed mercenaries. Although a good number of them were female mercenaries, the remaining male mercenaries still numbered more than two thousand…”

“Uncle Commander, what’s wrong with female mercenaries? None of the other vice-commanders in the Bear Company are my match. They can’t even beat my little sister, Mary.” Viel waved a small, delicate fist, looking quite indignant.

“Yes, yes, yes, I misspoke, alright?” Baritt threw up his hands and explained wearily, “What I mean is, a lord’s guard detachment is composed of men. Not counting the militia, an average Baron-Lord would only maintain a guard detachment of two or three hundred men. Our Bear Company used to have over two thousand male mercenaries, and even now, we have more than 1,700 able-bodied men… Tell me, can the lords of the pioneering outpost rest easy with us around? If the commander of the Bear Company were also brilliant and capable, the lords of the outpost would probably have to sleep with one eye open.”

Viel shook her head and said, “I don’t believe it. We’re working for the lords, what do they have to worry about?”

Baritt was never a silver-tongued man, and he didn’t know how to persuade a young female Ranger with such naive ideas. He had to drop the subject and change tracks. “Let’s not talk about whether the lords are at ease or not for now… Let’s talk about the pay the Ghost Forest pioneering outpost gives the Bear Company. Killing a Goblin earns a reward of twenty Copper Sol, a Kobold is worth thirty Copper Sol, and a Gnoll gets you two silver coins. On top of that, the Bear Company keeps eighty percent of the resources we gather, and the mercenaries’ families are paid the same wages as hired laborers for their work. I’ve been a mercenary for most of my life, and I never even dreamed a mercenary company could get such generous compensation.”

“In the past, the Dodor had use for the Bear Company and were willing to pay a high price. But it’s different now…”

Baritt raised a finger and pointed east, continuing, “At the pioneer fief behind us, more than twenty thousand hired laborers are building a fortress for the Dodor. Those people will become the Dodor lords’ liege’s subjects and tenant households in the future. Two thousand Dodor cavalry and two thousand Dodor militia have taken over the outposts and barracks on the front line. The Dodor can now do all the work the Bear Company used to do. Why would the lords continue to give such great benefits to the Bear Company, instead of to their own subjects and tenants?”

Viel nodded slowly, her expression grim. “The Dodor plan to terminate our employment contract and drive us away.”

Seeing the vice-commander’s solemn demeanor, Baritt thought that the optimistic, sprightly young female Ranger had finally seen the light. A flicker of joy rose in his heart, and he chuckled meaningfully. “Originally, it wouldn’t have come to driving us away. But now, the Dodor have no choice but to drive us away.”

“The winter before last, the southward migration of the Sasan refugees had already ended, with only a small amount of grain transport remaining. The Gambis mercenary legions could have withdrawn last spring, but they dragged it out until autumn. That’s because the Dodor cavalry hadn’t arrived yet to take over the garrison duties. In other words, when the Gambis forces withdrew, the Dodor were already prepared to move into the frontline outposts.”

Baritt fell silent for a moment, then said in a hoarse voice, “The Dodor deliberately let the Bear Company take over the outposts and barracks along the route first, and then the Five-Day War broke out… The Dodor lords’ war beast cavalry can cover several hundred kilometers a day. They could have rushed over from the pioneering outpost fortress in less than half an hour, but they deliberately held their ground, waiting until we had fought the forest Gnolls for four days and four nights before arriving on the battlefield to annihilate over ten thousand beastmen in one fell swoop.”

“The Dodor lord used the Bear Company as bait to lure the beastmen out of the forest and then eliminate them,” Baritt said with a calm expression, as if narrating something that had nothing to do with him.

Viel pressed her lips together firmly and asked hesitantly, “Uncle Commander, do… do you hate them?”

“Hate? Nothing of the sort…” A bitter, perhaps mocking, smile touched the corners of Baritt’s mouth. He waved his hand and sighed, “Mercenaries get paid to risk their lives. The Dodor spent a fortune hiring the Bear Company, and it wasn’t for nothing… In the Five-Day War, the Bear Company suffered over 1,800 casualties in total. 384 died on the spot, and over 100 were left disabled. The Dodor paid the compensation as agreed, not a single copper piece short. We killed monsters, and people died. We earned the high price the lords paid. It was perfectly fair.”

Viel lowered her head, hiding the gleam in her eyes, and said softly, “Everything has a price.”

Baritt nodded in agreement, his expression indifferent. “The relationship between a mercenary and an employer is not one of equals. We don’t resent the Dodor. If the matter of the Dodor using the Bear Company as bait hadn’t been exposed, the lords of the pioneering outpost would probably have absorbed the Bear Company, turning the mercenaries into militia and tenant households. But now, rumors of the Five-Day War conspiracy have spread. The Dodor won’t believe that the Bear Company’s mercenaries harbor no resentment towards them. They won’t absorb the Bear Company anymore. Even if they were to recruit people, it would be to slowly absorb the youths under twenty. Anyone over twenty would be rejected, especially the commander and vice-commanders of the Bear Company, who have no chance of gaining the favor of a Pioneer Lord.”

“The esteemed priest at the Bear Company’s encampment came to talk to me a while ago. He said the Dodor are preparing to renegotiate the employment agreement, and the Bear Company’s compensation will be much worse than before. He told me to make plans early.” Baritt stopped talking and simply looked at Octavia.

Viel waved her slender hands and said, “Don’t look at me. You’re the commander. What are your plans, Uncle?”

Baritt clenched a fist, coughed dryly into it, and lowered his voice. “Did you know that the Bear Company was formerly made up of more than thirty small mercenary companies under the Stag Merchant Association? We were responsible for protecting the Stag Merchants’ Guild caravans, and the Stag Merchants’ Guild belongs to a great noble family of Gambis, House of Wimbledon. A few years ago, for some unknown reason, the Stag Merchants’ Guild terminated our employment. We had no choice but to band together and form the Bear Company.”

“Although the Bear Company has no connection to Marquess Wimbledon’s family now, the old contacts are still there. Some time ago, when the Stag Merchants’ Guild was organizing the Sasan refugee migration, an old acquaintance of mine in the guild introduced me to a Legion Commander in the Centaur Hills. It was through this connection that the Gambis people have always looked out for the Bear Company.”

“The Dodor want to drive us away, so it seems we can’t stay at the Ghost Forest pioneering outpost any longer. I sent men to Raven Town in the Centaur Hills to find that commander… He’s a Knight-Lord of the House of Randell, serving Earl Randell himself. He has three thousand mercenary soldiers under his command, a truly great figure. He has agreed to take in all of us from the Bear Company, even the severely wounded and disabled. The Bear Company’s mercenaries will be incorporated into the House of Randell’s mercenary legion, and the mercenaries’ families will be given the status of tenant households, with each family allocated fifty mu of land, rent-free for two years… Oh, right, the vice-commanders and captains of the Bear Company will all be given preferential placements…”

“What about me? And how will my little sister Mary be placed?” Viel pointed at her own nose, her eyes wide as she looked at the old commander.

Baritt was suddenly at a loss for words. Among Ranger mercenaries, both able-bodied men and women were expected to practice martial arts and fight. But it wasn’t like that in a lord’s family. War was a man’s business; if a family reached the point where its women had to fight, it was basically on the verge of collapse. Of course, noble families had female knight commanders, but they were invariably high-ranking commanders, possessing at least the strength of a full knight. Octavia might have been given the title of Valkyrie by the Bear Company’s mercenaries, but she and her sister Mary were, after all, only initial-rank apprentice knights.

According to the customs of noble families, a female apprentice knight was expected to serve a high-ranking noble, learn statecraft and household management, and then marry another noble to build a family and put down roots and flourish. Although Baritt firmly believed that Viel’s command abilities would be highly valued by the family, he couldn’t beat his chest and make any promises to her right now.

Baritt thought it over and over before saying vaguely, “Viel… you’re not young anymore. It’s about time you got married. When we get to the Centaur Hills, I’ll pay for a priest to remove the scar on your face. With your looks and talent, you’re sure to win the favor of some Knight-Noble. If you marry a Knight, your future path will be much easier. Even serving as a commander of a mercenary legion shouldn’t be a problem.”

An ordinary female Ranger of humble bloodline would certainly be willing to marry a Knight-Noble. But Octavia was no ordinary female Ranger. She was the princess of the Gambis Kingdom, Her Highness Roland Auguste, a Legendary rank powerhouse. Although she couldn’t use power above the Silver rank at the moment, her Spirit attribute had long since reached the standard of a Legendary Knight.

As Baritt haltingly tried to entice her with the prospect of marriage to a knight, Roland nearly burst out laughing. This Grand Commander has had the most beautiful man in the world—and he happens to be your master.

Spending her days mingling with mercenaries and rangers, Roland had picked up their crude habits as well.

However, she had long suspected that the Bear Company had ties to the Centaur Hills. Baritt’s ability to hold his position as Grand Commander was undoubtedly related to the support from the Randall mercenary legion. During the Five-Day War, Baritt had even entrusted his Black Raven Guards to Roland’s command. Those elites were clearly secret art death commandos trained by a great family. No matter how well they concealed it, how could they deceive the eyes of the Princess of Aerie Fortress?

The Gnoll chief possessed at least Silver rank strength. The Black Raven Guards had clung to it, limb by limb, dragging it down with no regard for their own lives, yet they hadn’t displayed any superhuman martial skills. Anyone else would not have been able to see through the Black Raven Guards’ true nature, assuming they were just naturally brave and had been driven to ferocity in battle. But Roland had witnessed the scene of Randall’s Secret Art Guards besieging the Legendary Centaur. They had shown the same fearlessness, nearly suppressing the Centaur Great Khan.

The difference between the two battles was that the Legendary Centaur had relied on its own power to break free from the Randall Secret Art Guards’ entanglement, after which it had turned tail and fled in terror. The Gnoll chief, lacking such strength, had been slain on the spot by Roland.

Roland had been certain at that moment that Old Captain Baritt was one of the House of Randell’s War Bear Mercenaries. Now that Baritt was so insistent on inviting her to the Centaur Hills, Roland hummed to herself, thinking: Victor’s reach is a bit too long, isn’t it?

However, while Old Captain Baritt’s status in the House of Randell was low, his concern for Vice-commander Viel was genuine. Unfortunately, Roland could go anywhere but the Centaur Hills.

Sylvia was well aware that she had broken free from the shackles of her identity as a princess and reforged her conviction in freedom. If she went to the Centaur Hills now, wouldn’t that be walking right into a trap?

Viel smiled, deciding not to tease the diligent Uncle Commander any longer. “Baron Curtis of the pioneering outpost fortress proposed to me, offering me the positions of Personal handmaiden and Lady of House Curtis, and he’s willing to accept one hundred people of my choosing. He said he would soon be promoted to a viscount lord, and if I were willing to marry him, I would be the lady of a viscount family in the future.”

“I refused.”

Baritt was shocked again and again, and a doubt arose in his mind. “You…”

Octavia looked at the old mercenary opposite her with a faint smile and sighed. “Uncle Commander, I don’t want to lie to you. Every word I said to you before was true. My dream is to create a legendary mercenary company. I am the most capable, and the position of the Bear Company’s Grand Commander is something I am determined to have… But you’ve forgotten one thing.”

She pointed to her own chest and said earnestly, “I am Octavia the Ranger. The blood of a Knight-Noble flows in my veins. I am a female knight… You can’t deny that an apprentice knight is still a knight.”

Baritt felt as if he’d been punched hard in the chest, but looking into Viel’s a pure eyes, he couldn’t bring himself to be angry. He even felt a sense of relieved consolation.

“I was the one who sent people to spread the rumors about the Five-Day War conspiracy. The purpose was just as you said: to cut off the Bear Company’s retreat and make the other vice-commanders understand that they are old, with limited potential, and would not be given important positions even if they submitted to the Dodor lords… After all these days, they have all come to understand. And for those who haven’t, I’ve helped them understand.”

A bitter taste filled Baritt’s mouth. He was silent for a long time before finally saying calmly, “I’ve found a way out for everyone. They might not be willing to follow you…”

“It’s too late.” Viel cast a pitying glance at the old man, shook her head gently, and took a scroll and a seal from her waist pouch. She pushed them in front of Baritt and said, “See this? This is a letter of introduction personally signed by the resident priest of the pioneering outpost. He is introducing the Bear Company to the Sasan Empire’s East Pioneer Fief. The Grand Commander of the Bear Company is… Octavia.”

“As for this seal… just like the commander’s seal in your hand, it is the Grand Commander’s seal for the Bear Company, registered at the Church. Blindeye, Spur, and the others have all signed in front of the resident priest acknowledging me as the Grand Commander, and they’ve also received their own vice-commander seals. A mercenary would not dare to trifle with a priest of the Church.”

Baritt said, a little angrily, “Octavia, the situation in the Sasan Empire’s East Pioneer Fief is even more complicated than the Ghost Forest. Have you considered everyone’s life and death by taking the Bear Company there? Are you going to sacrifice your comrades-in-arms for your ideals, or your ambition? Pledging allegiance to a noble house is the only way out for mercenaries! I… I have already found a way out for everyone.”

Octavia said with a half-smile, “Uncle Commander, people who are afraid of fighting should be hired laborers. If mercenaries pledge allegiance to a lord, does that mean they don’t have to fight anymore? During that fight with the Gnolls, I saw you shooting monsters with a Crossbow, and you looked quite happy about it.”

Baritt was left speechless by her rebuttal, his anger instantly deflating. He said sullenly, “There’s no future for an oversized mercenary company… The Five-Day War will happen to the Bear Company again, just in the Sasan Empire’s pioneer fief instead. Viel, many people in the Bear Company will die…”

Viel looked at the old mercenary, her gaze soft but firm. “Uncle Baritt, times have changed. In a world where pioneering is the mainstream, mercenary companies will grow larger. New compensation, new enemies, new tactics… a new legend. I, we, are ready to write the legend of the Bear Company.”

She stood up, gave Baritt a solemn bow, and said, “I will give you three days to call upon the members of the Bear Company to go with you to the Centaur Hills. This is my respect for you… Your Excellency, Commander Baritt.”

In the end, Baritt left, leading more than 500 people to Raven Town in the Centaur Hills. Octavia and the seven vice-commanders of the Bear Company watched the old mercenary’s departing figure, as if witnessing the end of an era. Their eyes were filled with the flames of hope for the future, as if they could already see the Bear Company’s legend unfold.

Princess Elizabeth, now called Mary, sidled up to Roland and asked in a small voice, “Sister Viel, why do we have to go to the Sasan Empire’s Pioneer Fief? I heard the southern kingdoms are preparing to cross the river to the Southern Continent. There’s a stage for us there too.”

Roland was unwilling to go to the Centaur Hills, and Princess Elizabeth Testier was afraid of going to the Sasan Empire, fearing that a Radiant Paladin would see through her identity.

Roland knew her little sister’s thoughts all too well. She raised a hand and tapped Mary on the head, harrumphing, “The Sasan Empire has red soil, and the grain there is very, very cheap. You fool, we have more than eight thousand people to feed, mouths and all. Of course we’re going where the food is cheap.”

Mary clutched her head and grumbled, “So the food’s cheap, so what? Why’d you have to hit my head…”

She then recalled the First Radiant Angel, Micklemers, who was secretly protecting her, had guided her to follow Sister Viel, the commander, and her heart settled down again.

Perhaps going to the Sasan Empire’s Pioneer Fief is the Supreme Lord’s revelation for Sister Viel and me.

Chapter 765: The Attention From Behind

Old Captain Baritt leading several hundred followers to leave The Bear Company and return to the Randell Fief marked the end of an era. Just as Princess Roland Auguste had transformed into the Ranger Octavia, the new Grand Commander, Octavia, leading The Bear Company north was a move that followed the new trend of the Age of Expansion.

The collective movement of The Bear Company’s several thousand members, a journey of thousands of kilometers to the pioneer fiefs of the Sasan Empire, would naturally not be an easy one. But the Lord of Dodor and the resident priest at the Ghost Forest pioneering outpost were willing to provide their full support.

Commander Octavia made sweeping adjustments to the internal structure of The Bear Company. She shed most of the refugee worker groups that had been attached to The Bear Company’s armed forces, streamlining the company from over eight thousand members to just over four thousand five hundred. Using the reserve funds left by Old Captain Baritt, she purchased a large number of oxcarts and supplies from the people of Dodor and led her true mercenary subordinates on a grand procession northwest towards the Warton Great Plains.

All the powers within the Ghost Forest pioneering fortress were satisfied with The Bear Company’s actions. The Lord of Dodor using the mercenaries of The Bear Company as bait to annihilate the forest Gnolls was not a glorious affair. Octavia took the unruly armed mercenaries away, leaving behind a group of honest and obedient hired laborers. The lords of the pioneering fortress breathed a real sigh of relief. They did their best to meet all of The Bear Company’s procurement requests, even selling them a batch of high-quality military equipment, which included ten military heavy crossbows and the components for a small ballista.

The Bear Company’s ability to purchase contraband was thanks to the pioneering fortress’s resident priest.

This was because the security situation in the joint Sasan and Naville pioneer fiefs was not merely bad; it was terrible.

Back then, the Centaurs of the Westdon Khanate had a moment of madness, causing the northern lords’ pioneer war to begin at least five years ahead of schedule. With the support of all the human kingdoms, the northern lords defeated the Sidon Centaurs and seized a territory as large as the Sasan Empire. However, their preparations for pioneering the land were insufficient, with the main conflict being the weakness of their garrisons for maintaining local security.

His Highness Randall had proposed the tenant system and mercenary legions long ago, but only the York family had built up its mercenary legion with remarkable success. The mercenary legions of other powers had not even taken rudimentary form.

Without fallow land, one cannot turn refugees into tenant households. And without tenant households, where would the mercenary legions come from?

The main armies of the Sassans and Naville, in coordination with the Radiant Knights, were garrisoned along the eastern defensive line of the pioneer fief. The rearguard of the pioneer fief was left empty, which led to countless Goblins, Kobolds, Gnolls, and Ogres competing with the human commoners for living space. Bloody incidents caused by beastmen roving bandits numbered in the dozens per day, sometimes even more. The Pioneer Lords and Radiant Paladins were driven to their wit’s end by these endless monster attacks, exhausted from just trying to cope.

Worst of all, the infiltration by beastmen roving bandits severely compressed the range of activities for the liege’s subjects and tenant households, creating space for the beastmen populations to procreate and develop. If they could not continuously suppress the blatant arrogance of the beastmen bandits, it was feared that multiple powerful beastmen tribes would appear in the heartland of the pioneer fief in the near future.

Under these circumstances, the Holy See of the Radiant Church requested that the resident priests in every diocese and Church call upon Rangers and mercenary companies to head to the East Pioneer Fief, providing convenience to any mercenaries and Rangers willing to accept the mission to urge their swift departure.

The Bear Company was enormous and had been tested in the Five-Day War; one could say it was the most famous mercenary company of the moment. The Lord of Dodor wanted to disband The Bear Company, but the pioneer fief’s resident priest did everything he could to prevent it. He repeatedly hinted at and explicitly told Baritt to accept the mercenary mission in the East Pioneer Fief, but unfortunately, the Old Captain never responded positively. The resident priest was utterly disappointed in the old fellow. It was at this moment that Octavia came to him on her own initiative, expressing her willingness to lead The Bear Company to the East Pioneer Fief. The two were a perfect match. The resident priest very decisively changed the name of The Bear Company’s Grand Commander to Octavia. Although this went against the Church’s rules for managing mercenary companies, none of The Bear Company’s eight vice-commanders had any objections, so it was of little consequence for the resident priest to strike Baritt’s name from the record.

Roland had snatched The Bear Company from under Victor’s nose, causing the tens of thousands of Gold Sols he had initially invested to go down the drain. The problem she now faced was that Grand Commander Octavia entering His Highness Randall’s field of vision could potentially expose her true identity.

However, in Roland’s view, these were minor matters. Sylvia was one of the few who knew the secret of the Princess of Gambis, and she had expressed her tolerance and support for Roland. The Raging Wind Sword Saint had likely long been aware of it as well, and given his close relationship with Roland, he would never sabotage Roland’s attempt to reforge her conviction in freedom and aim to become a top-tier legendary powerhouse.

Roland held the grand tide of popular sentiment in her hands; that was the key.

In the demographic structure of the various kingdoms, freemen would always be the majority. Lords could not possibly convert all freemen into tenant households. As long as the population continued to grow, even tenant households would have children and relatives leave their families to make their own living. Mercenary companies were a part of the freemen population. No one knew just how many freemen mercenaries existed in the human kingdoms, but judging from the East Pioneer Fief’s demand for armed freemen, there had to be at least a hundred thousand of them.

Such a massive base of mercenaries was more than enough to conceal Commander Octavia’s true identity. There would always be clever mercenary commanders who would distinguish themselves and gain a reputation no less than Octavia’s. Moreover, they would be difficult for the lords to absorb, thus maintaining a relatively independent status.

Traditional mercenary companies, with their families and dependents in tow, were considered large at three to four hundred people. Their ability to absorb damage was actually very poor. If the casualties among their able-bodied mercenaries exceeded a third, the entire company would essentially lose its ability to continue fighting; otherwise, there would be no one to support the old and young in the company. Therefore, traditional mercenary companies were incapable of handling the combat missions in the East Pioneer Fief and would inevitably have to unite and form large companies of over a thousand people.

Not many lords could absorb so many armed mercenaries. They preferred to select youths from tenant households and cultivate professional family armies.

Without a doubt, the priests in the East Pioneer Fief were surely introducing The Bear Company’s experience to the other mercenaries. Baritt’s desire to take The Bear Company back to the Centaur Hills was pure daydreaming. If Roland hadn’t stepped up to become the Grand Commander of The Bear Company, someone else would have scrambled to do it. In fact, the resident priest of the Ghost Forest pioneering outpost was the true mastermind behind the change in ownership of The Bear Company. At the very least, he would not cede the credit for consolidating The Bear Company and prompting its move north to the female Ranger, Octavia.

The Tea Parties held by the nobles of the pioneer fief would occasionally mention The Bear Company’s fame. Once other large mercenary companies began to make a name for themselves, the hype around The Bear Company would naturally fade.

The arrogant Knight-Nobles merely thought the Grand Commander of The Bear Company was a lucky female Ranger; no one would connect her with the “perished” Princess Auguste.

One should never underestimate the mercenary profession. Extraordinary beings of Roland’s level could always see the traces of “the grand tide of affairs” and find ways to exert their influence, seizing the Favor of the Force of Destiny from within it.

High-ranking clergy viewed mortal believers as lambs, and high-ranking Knights were no different. The power of mortals was as insignificant as dust, but they were, after all, the countless myriads of thoughts differentiated from the Creator. By uniting the thoughts and convictions of the populace, one could bring about miraculous feats akin to reshaping the very land.

Princess Auguste had inherited her predecessors’ inheritance and was walking on the path they had designated. Many of her ideas could not be put into practice; this so-called suppression of her Nature was embodied in her status as a princess.

Now, Octavia had forced her way into the uncharted territory of mercenary companies. Who knew how much power the freemen mercenaries would unleash in her hands?

It was certain that she would stir up the situation in the northern kingdoms.

If Roland were lurking in the southern kingdoms stirring up trouble, Sylvia and Victor would surely not allow it. But since Roland was developing her power in the north, the two of them were happy to see it happen.

Grand Commander Octavia was ambitious, preparing to write her own legend. But if she knew that a God-favored on par with the first Pope was watching The Bear Company from the shadows with an unspeakable purpose, even using Great Divination to protect her and Mary’s mercenary career, one wonders what she would think?

Because of all this, when Baritt returned to the Randell Fief, he reported the changes that had occurred in The Bear Company to My Lady Lilia. Although Lilia was angry, she was mindful of her ties to the War Bear Mercenaries and directed her anger at the resident priest of the Ghost Forest pioneering outpost, pleading with My Lady Nicole to forgive Baritt’s mistake.

Nicole thus suppressed the matter and did not report it to Rose Manor. Ultimately, the loss of The Bear Company was because House of Randell’s resources and heritage were still shallow, and they didn’t have much talent to draw from, but this was an internal affair of the House of Randell. Nicole, now like the high-ranked Knight Lords of the Centaur Hills, was unwilling to be laughed at. She was even more against Duke York taking the opportunity to plant his “talent” in the Randell Fief, and she was especially wary of My Lady Katerina.

And just like that, Commander Octavia was not immediately exposed to Sylvia’s view.

Of course, His Highness Randall, thousands of miles away, also had no idea that Roland had snatched his Bear Company.

The Lizard Marsh was actually a large basin by the Goldwater River. The western edge of the marsh, much like the Larkspur Mountains to the far east, also had a highland forest that ran north to south for several thousand kilometers. Only by crossing this winding and rugged mountain forest could one see the Unnamed Plains.

Following adventurers’ tradition, His Highness Randall gave this mountain range a rather cliché name—the Grey Rabbit Mountains. The first animal he saw here was a grey rabbit. The poor rabbit undoubtedly died by Victor’s arrow. Narsen chopped off the rabbit’s foot and nailed it to a steep cliff face with a short spike, hoping to bring good luck to those who came after.

Caligula remarked that the rabbit tasted good, it was just too skinny.

In the chilly spring mountain forest, the snow had not yet completely melted. Where would one find a plump wild rabbit? Aka was purely showing off his barbecue skills.

However, this unlucky grey rabbit did indeed bring good luck to its kin.

The Randell Expeditionary Force did not rush into the Unnamed Plains, instead staying in the Grey Rabbit Mountains for almost three months. On one hand, the expeditionary force needed to rest and recuperate, gather a large amount of forest resources to replenish their supplies, and prepare to cross the Unnamed Plains. On the other hand, the Grey Rabbit Mountains had complex terrain. Compared to the boundless Great Plains, it was an excellent hiding place.

Victor designated the Unnamed Plains as the main battlefield for intercepting the Ant-man army. He planned to assemble the most elite War Beast cavalry from the various kingdoms and use the terrain features of the plains to fully leverage the cavalry’s mobile warfare advantages, achieving the tactical vision of using a smaller force to defeat a larger one and devouring them piece by piece.

X-3, based on the Ant-men’s weaknesses and weighing all factors, deduced that three thousand War Beast Knights, eight thousand Swiftbird light cavalry, plus thirty thousand elite cavalry could wear down and kill all four hundred thousand Ant-man monsters on the plains.

Victor expanded the total allied force to fifty thousand, but the logistics and supply points for these fifty thousand cavalry could only be hidden and dispersed throughout the Grey Rabbit Mountains. Otherwise, the tactical concept of mobile warfare could not be realized.

Wars are not won by whoever has more men, but by logistics.

If the allied elite cavalry of the various kingdoms seized the initiative, the war was already half won.

As the vanguard force, The Randell Expeditionary Force’s reconnaissance of the battlefield environment could be said to be the most important task of this expedition. The family warriors followed Victor’s instructions and stopped in the Grey Rabbit Mountains. They first searched for the mountain passes that would allow the main force to enter the plains from the marsh, while also surveying the mountain range’s topography, recording usable resource points, and other such information.

For well-trained ordinary soldiers to complete a survey of the Grey Rabbit Mountains, it might take several hundred men three to five years, and they still might not reach the end of the forest. Even Mind Warriors with the Gathering skill would probably take more than half a year to scout a one-thousand-kilometer stretch of the mountain range.

This task was very simple for Victor. He didn’t even have to go himself now, only dispatching his four Dragonkin handmaidens to explore the Grey Rabbit Mountains in both north and south directions. They could survey 500 kilometers of mountain forest per day. Their draconic intuition helped them easily find all kinds of mineral resources, including the most critical salt mines and water sources. The Alchemy Tower’s Gathering skill gave them the ability to draw topographical maps. Relying on the extraordinary memory granted by their high Spirit attribute, they could first memorize the features of the mountain forest and then draw them all out later.

In just fifteen days, the four Dragonkin handmaidens placed a detailed topographical map of the Grey Rabbit Mountains before Victor.

The Randell Expeditionary Force was currently still in the Grey Rabbit Mountains only to replenish their logistical supplies. The Alchemical militia dug several large pits, burned them out with fire, then sawed the felled trees into planks, placed them neatly in the pits, covered them with dry earth, and built earthen kilns on top to produce charcoal. The high heat from the charcoal dried the wood underground, and after being taken out, it could be used to make wooden trailers.

Another group was responsible for hunting and gathering, boiling salt from the salt mines, curing dried fish and meat, and mixing simple and practical potions.

The native inhabitants of the Grey Rabbit Mountains immediately suffered terrible luck. A few hundred outsiders had invaded their territory, severely disrupting the local ecological balance, and there were many carnivores among them. Take the Alchemical Warhounds and Bear-Dogs for example: they each needed to consume an average of 20 pounds of meat per day. The expedition’s sixty-plus ferocious warhounds, hunting on their own, would need a territory of at least 800 square kilometers to maintain the forest’s ecological balance. The Alchemical Dragon-Lizards were even more incredible; if they were true Marsh Dragon-Lizards, each one of these big fellows would need to occupy a territory of over 400 square kilometers for itself.

Although the Alchemical Dragon-Lizards had a powerful Omnivore talent, if meat was available, eating meat made it easier to build up their stamina.

Victor couldn’t care less about the ecological balance of the Grey Rabbit Mountains. The Alchemical militia were relatively restrained in hunting herbivores, but they showed absolutely no mercy to carnivorous beasts and monster clans.

Narsen specially organized a one hundred and twenty-man hunting party. As soon as they discovered a monster community like Gnolls, Goblins, Kobolds, or Ogres, they immediately wiped them out. The flesh and blood of the monsters were used by Imoson the Wizard to cultivate his Aberrant Beast troops, and also served to fill the stomachs of the Dragon-Lizards and warhounds.

The ferocious Silver-rank and above monsters had already fled as far as they could when the Dragonkin handmaidens were surveying the mountain terrain. The remaining monster clans were those whose psychic intuition was not strong enough. They couldn’t even stand up to Philip II, Philip III, and the Razorbeasts that Imosen had cultivated. When the four Dragonkin handmaidens appeared on the scene, the draconic Fearful Gaze crushed the minds of the weak. The slightly stronger ferocious leaders couldn’t put up a fight and could only become prey.

It was foreseeable that in the next two years, the herbivore population in the Grey Rabbit Mountains would increase significantly, and they would serve as the fresh meat reserves for the allied cavalry’s supply points in the forest.

Victor didn’t need to worry about surveying the terrain or mopping up monsters. He stayed in the wooden villa built by the Alchemical militia, wholeheartedly perfecting the Poltanos Secret Art.

This spiritual secret art, deduced from the mythical nine-headed hydra, was of an extremely high level and possessed infinite plasticity. In reality, Victor had drawn upon the Golden Toad Mystic Form and meditation methods from the Church’s collection, combining them with the Bloodline talent of the mythical nine-headed hydra to deduce the Poltanos Secret Art. It could be said that this was Victor’s greatest achievement since becoming a Mind’s Dominator.

Tempering the spirit and breaking the limits of the Spirit attribute were merely the basic, universal functions of the Poltanos Secret Art. In theory, anyone could practice this secret art, but it had a minimum threshold—the practitioner’s Spirit attribute must reach 10 points.

When ordinary people reached their prime, their Spirit attribute would be at its peak, around 6 or 7 points. Elite soldiers who had undergone rigorous training from a young age might have a Spirit strength of over 7 points, but very few could reach 10 points.

A Spirit attribute of 10 points represented the dividing line between Black Iron-rank and Bronze-rank. This requirement alone excluded the vast majority of people from the Poltanos Secret Art.

Even if a practitioner had a Spirit strength above 10 but below 15 points, visualizing the image of the three-headed Serpent Lizard, Poltanos, was very difficult. They might have to spend more than a decade to construct the complete visualization and enter the extraordinary domain of a 15-point Spirit attribute, which would be considered having truly entered the threshold.

Only legendary powerhouses with a Spirit of 30 or higher could use the Poltanos Secret Art to create their own mind talents.

The Poltanos Secret Art was designed to change the fate of Spirit Knights; how could its power be as simple as increasing lifespan and Spirit attribute?

Victor’s fifteen-day dormancy only laid down the most basic, common-ground parts of the secret art. He then spent nearly three more months integrating the visualization of the mythical three-headed lizard into a Saint-realm level Talent Tree.

Charlotte pushed open the door to the meditation room and happened to see Victor’s dark gold eyes alternately displaying halos of emerald green, deep blue, and orange-yellow. She couldn’t help but hold her breath. She stood at the door for a second, preparing to leave quietly, but Victor called out to her.

“Your Highness, I… I did knock just now,” Charlotte said, biting her lovely red lips in a slightly aggrieved defense.

“Yes, and I was the one who told you to come in.” Victor nodded with a smile and asked, “My dear, are you here to tell me that Narsen and the others have found a group of beastmen?”

Seeing Victor was in a good mood, Charlotte let out a sigh of relief. Pressing a slender hand to her full chest, she said quickly, “Yes, My Lord. Following your instructions, they have surrounded a group of Gnolls about 300 kilometers north in the mountain forest. There are over forty of them, and more than two hundred Goblin slaves.”

Victor’s eyes flashed as he said excitedly, “Good! I’ll test my ‘Chilling Wind’ on them!”

Chapter 766: Chilling Wind

Roughly four hours later, Victor arrived at the scene alone. It was a narrow, cramped valley with steep, perilous cliffs on both sides. It was afternoon, and the brilliant sun had just managed to illuminate the upper half of the cliff face, leaving a distinct line between light and shadow. The lower half of the cliff was covered in dark green, slippery moss, which not even the nimble and agile Mountain Apes could climb.

The valley floor was barren. A gurgling stream trickled over scattered rocks, flowing toward the far end of the valley. Narsen, Klaus, Red Wolf, and Tao De stood guard near the center of the valley floor with forty Source-blood militia. The Alchemical Warhounds and Bear-Dogs roamed around them, occasionally lifting their heads to stare at a specific spot on the cliff face. Where their gazes converged, there was a dark, gaping cave.

Seeing Victor enter the valley, Narsen was about to greet him when two slender, graceful figures rushed past. The Dragonkin handmaidens, Dili and Fugerui, shot forward like arrows loosed from a bowstring. Just as they were about to crash into Victor, their delicate war boots tapped against the cliff wall, and with exquisitely light and nimble movements, they landed on their Master’s left and right sides. Each one hugged an arm, chattering away as they vied for Victor’s praise and affection.

They pressed tightly against Victor, wishing they could hang off him completely. Their affectionate and docile manner had an indescribable air to it, like pets reunited with their master, like noble young ladies meeting their intimate lovers, and yet also like personal maids filled with adoration and admiration for their master. However, when their bright eyes turned to the others, a fierce glint appeared, a warning that was perfectly clear. Even the Alchemical Warhounds and Bear-Dogs were startled by their glares and could only stop where they were, wagging their tails at Victor from a distance.

Although this was the nature of Dragonkin handmaidens, Victor always felt a little awkward. He subtly pulled his arms from their warm, enthusiastic embraces and walked quickly to the base of the cliff below the cave to accept the salutes of his followers.

Narsen reported to him, “My lord, this band of Gnolls seems to be a group of fugitives from the mountain forests farther north. They are mostly adult males, with only five sub-adult females. They have no hyena beast companions with them, but are instead driving a group of Goblin slaves. It’s clear they weren’t out hunting… I suspect their clan was invaded by other, more powerful Gnolls, and their original chief fled to this area with some of his followers, abducting a few females and a batch of Goblin slaves.”

“These beasts are cunning and quite strong; there are at least three Savage Gnolls among them. They used the wind to run circles around us in the forest, and our warhounds couldn’t pick up their scent. We nearly lost them. Thanks to the two ladies’ timely reinforcement, we were able to trap this band of Gnolls in the valley. Now, they’ve all retreated into the cave to mount a desperate defense.”

Hearing Commander Narsen praise their deeds to their Master, Daphdilier and Daphgriel puffed out their proud chests, their beautiful faces alight with charming smiles. They spoke almost in unison, “Master, would you like Dili to drive those lowly beasts out of the cave? Or should it be Fugerui who drives out the stinky ones?”

Gnolls had their own ways of survival. Narsen’s Alchemical militia was far stronger than this band of Gnolls, yet he had nearly let them escape. In the end, it took two Gold-rank Dragonoid Raiders to corner them in the cave.

Daphdilier’s and Daphgriel’s strength was comparable to that of a Legendary-rank Raging Wave Knightess, and the Dragonoid life form was more than a level higher than that of a Gnoll.

To be able to escape from the hands of such powerful enemies was a skill in itself. This band of Gnolls was struggling to survive, which was commendable. Of course, they were also strong enough to serve as Victor’s test subjects.

Top-tier extraordinary beings possessed a perspective close to the natural laws. To exterminate a species based on racial differences was an extreme and crude way of thinking, and it would pollute one’s own will. Victor could not possibly kill every Gnoll, nor did he take pleasure in slaughter.

If these Gnolls could withstand the trial of the Raging Wind Sword Saint, Victor would grant them a chance at life.

“All of you, fall back. Whatever happens next, do not interfere without my command.”

After giving the order, Victor turned his deep gaze to the cave on the cliff face. Once Narsen had called for the guards and warhounds to retreat to the other side of the valley’s centerline, he awakened the visualization object hidden deep within his mind—the mythical three-headed lizard, Poltanos.

The “vast” size of the three-headed lizard Poltanos symbolized power; its “elegant” lines symbolized nature; and as it raised one head high, its pure, emerald eyes opened, symbolizing the Law of the water element.

When Poltanos’s will merged with his own, a brilliant green halo suddenly appeared in Victor’s dark gold, otherworldly eyes. In that instant, the wind that swept through the valley changed direction. Obeying the will of the Son of the Wind, it began to pour into the Gnolls’ cave like an endless, invisible river.

Narsen could not see the formless wind, but he could hear the wailing and howling coming from the cave. It was the sound of the wind scraping against the stone walls, mixed with faint but chaotic cries. The Gnolls and Goblins hidden inside seemed to have encountered an irresistible natural disaster, their struggles utterly futile.

What perplexed Narsen was that the wind pouring into the cave did not sound overwhelmingly strong; even the weaker Goblins should have been able to run out. If His Highness Randell had manifested sharp Wind Blades to slaughter the beastmen in the cave, their screams should have been deafening. Yet, both the Gnolls and the Goblins chose to struggle inside the cave rather than flee. It was as if an invisible hand was pressing them down, preventing their escape.

The faint cries of the Goblins and Gnolls gradually faded in the wind as their lives withered away. Narsen, Klaus, Red Wolf, and Tao De all stood with their lips sealed, their expressions grim. Their hearts were filled with a sense of reverence, an awe for their noble Master.

Victor stood there quietly, but in the eyes of his followers, they saw a distinct mythological creature.

Before the cavern could turn into a tomb, three broad-shouldered, thick-backed Gnolls in leather armor squeezed out of the narrow cave entrance. Their eyes were bloodshot, and knotted muscles rippled beneath their glossy fur, yet their joints seemed to have rusted; their movements were stiff and slow, and their entire bodies shivered uncontrollably. They trembled as if they were very cold.

Strangely, as these three burly and powerful Savage Gnolls staggered out of the wind’s path, their slow movements gradually became fluid. The blood-red light in their pupils flared, and the knotted muscles under their fur swelled, the surging power making their bodies seem a size larger. Each Savage Gnoll let out a long howl, as if to vent its bloodlust, or perhaps to celebrate its escape from the clutches of death. Then, they lowered their bodies and shot off in different directions.

A Savage Gnoll in a state of Bloodlust was twice as fast, but no matter how fast they ran, they could not escape the air that surrounded them.

In Victor’s mind, the head of the mythical three-headed lizard with the emerald eyes lowered, while the first head rose high. The verdant halo in his eyes dimmed and faded, immediately replaced by a ring of orange-yellow light.

The wind element answered his call, condensing into several currents of bluish-black air that shot out like blunt-tipped javelins, striking the three Savage Gnolls on their backs, forelimbs, and hind legs.

Savage Gnolls had powerful muscles and bones and tenacious life force. If Victor wanted to cut them open with Wind Blades, he would need to compress the wind element to a certain degree, which would take a few seconds. The bluish-black air currents he had just summoned were instantaneous; they were not compressed into Wind Blades and were not powerful enough to harm a Savage Gnoll. At most, the air turbulence would create a slowing effect.

However, the three Savage Gnolls let out earth-shattering, miserable howls and fell onto the rocky flats. Their bodies twisted and convulsed, the bulging muscles writhing and coiling like snakes under their fur, actually crushing their own bones with a series of sickening cracks. Their large, burly bodies finally crumpled into grotesque, twisted heaps.

Narsen, dumbfounded, saw black blood spewing from the Gnolls’ mouths and knew their internal organs had ruptured—crushed to death by the force of their own muscles.

The terrifying state of the dead Gnolls made the hair of the Randall family’s Ferocious warriors and Knights stand on end; they were all stunned into silence. The alchemical creatures, however, felt no fear of the unknown. The third-level Source-blood Militia, along with their Alchemical Warhounds and Bear-Dogs, entered the cave and dragged out the corpses of the other Gnolls and Goblins.

The senior knight Klaus was the first to regain his senses. He stepped forward to examine the monsters’ bodies, then turned to his companions and stammered, “Are… are these monsters frozen to death?”

Narsen walked over and turned over a dead Goblin. Its body was curled up, its eyes a dead, grayish-white, and its face was fixed in a grimace that was neither a smile nor a frown. Large patches of purple-red frostbite covered its green skin. It had clearly frozen to death.

“Strange. Goblins are highly adaptable; they don’t freeze to death easily… Why is there no frost on them?”

“The muscles are still elastic, and the body temperature is that of a normal corpse, not that hard, icy cold… How did they freeze to death?”

His Highness Randell’s retainers discussed the cause of the beastmen’s deaths in hushed tones, but they dared not seek an answer from their inscrutable Master.

In truth, these three Savage Gnolls and their slaves had been “tricked” to death by their own minds.

The Poltanos Secret Art created by Victor had three basic functions: longevity, vigor growth, and spiritual breakthrough.

Longevity had a negligible effect on His Highness Randell and could be disregarded.

For vigor growth, Victor could release the spiritual power accumulated by the mythical three-headed lizard visualization object to replenish his vigor. For example, his Raging Wind Domain, which could originally last for twenty-nine minutes at full power, could now be extended by another eleven minutes. As the mythical three-headed lizard accumulated more spiritual power, the duration of the Raging Wind Domain could be extended by up to double, for a total of fifty-eight minutes. To increase the duration of his talents any further, he would have to break through the upper limit of his Spirit attribute.

For now, Victor felt the main benefit of increased vigor was that the maximum distance of his Void Walk had increased by about thirty percent. If he only traveled half the maximum distance, combined with the boost from Miller’s divine arts ring, he could now use Void Walk five times consecutively. As for his strongest combat talent—Void Insight—he could still retain forty-five percent of his vigor after defeating an enemy.

The spiritual power accumulated by the visualization object, Poltanos, could not exceed that of the practitioner himself, which meant Victor’s vigor could at most be doubled, and the various abilities on his Talent Tree would be enhanced accordingly.

As for breaking through the upper limit of his Spirit attribute, it would require all three of Poltanos’s heads to perish simultaneously, transferring the peak accumulated spiritual power to the practitioner and allowing his Spirit attribute to take a great leap forward. In that case, the visualization object Poltanos would vanish completely, and the practitioner would have to visualize the mythical three-headed lizard anew. This process was not difficult for Victor, but he could not attempt to break through his spiritual limit right now. The slightest misstep would lead to the complete awakening of the Sun Elf.

Since his Spirit attribute had not changed, the intensity of Victor’s various extraordinary talents had not undergone a qualitative change. However, by awakening Poltanos and synchronizing it with his soul, he had obtained brand new extraordinary abilities, enriching the Talent Tree of his human bloodline.

Chilling Wind: When Poltanos opens its green eyes, Victor gains control over the Law related to the water element. The wind he summons carries his mind power, inflicting a dual blow of true damage and mind damage on the target. If the target fails to pass the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s willpower test, the mind damage will affect the soul and be reflected in the body, creating a freezing effect.

Grasp of the Wind Djinn: When Poltanos opens its yellow eyes, Victor gains control over the Law related to the earth element. The wind element is sure to coalesce. If an enemy fails to resist Victor’s mental will, they will feel as if they have been struck by several powerful blows from an Ogre Warlord. As long as they fully believe their perception is real, their soul will suffer severe trauma, and their body will react instinctively.

The Savage Gnolls had withstood the Chilling Wind, but they failed the subsequent willpower test and were crushed to death by their own muscular strength.

Wings of the Wind Sylph: When Poltanos opens its blue eyes—unfortunately, the authority over the Law of the wind element it represented was far inferior to Victor’s own and could not affect an enemy’s mind. In other words, the true damage Victor created with the wind element was more effective than any mind damage. However, Wings of the Wind Sylph could be applied to Victor himself, giving him much finer control over the wind element.

For example, his Raging Wind Domain could originally manifest fourteen Azure Moon blades at once. With the enhancement of Wings of the Wind Sylph, Victor could simultaneously manifest twenty Azure Moon blades, a whirlwind of blades sufficient to instantly beat a Gold-rank Ogre Warlord into a bloody pulp.

Azure Moon was the strongest Wind Blade created by the Sword Saint Draven, but it was still somewhat weak against large monsters like Ogres. With Victor’s Spirit attribute remaining the same, Wings of the Wind Sylph only brought about a quantitative change, not a qualitative one.

Chilling Wind and Grasp of the Wind Djinn were different. They induced a qualitative change at the same level of spiritual intensity.

At full power, the wind Victor summoned could even tear through the Mist Domain of a mythical nine-headed hydra, which showed its incredible range. With the wind element empowered by His Highness Randell’s willpower, a wide-area Chilling Wind could freeze half of all mentally weak enemies to death. The most common Ant-men would certainly be thrown into chaos by the impact of Chilling Wind, exposing their Silver-rank Ant-man chief.

Grasp of the Wind Djinn was about concentration and could only be used against a limited number of targets. When Victor condensed his Wind Blades, it fulfilled the conditions for Grasp of the Wind Djinn. Forget a Silver-rank Ant-man chief; even a Gold-rank Ogre Warlord would have to submit to execution under the dual assault of true and mind damage. If they felt even a sliver of agreement with the mind damage carried by the Wind Blade, they would experience physiological reactions like shivering from cold or muscle cramps.

An existence capable of completely resisting the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s mind damage was likely rarer than the ancient Dragons still in existence.

In reality, these three new talents were a form of Touch of the Mind brought forth by his human bloodline.

The Bloodline Law of the mythological creature, the Sun Elf, was strict and powerful. It directly granted Victor the abilities of the Light of the Mind, such as Wind Blade and manifesting void wind element, which were similar to a Wizard’s innate Wizardry in that they were model-oriented. This also meant Victor’s mind power could not exceed the scope of the talent’s model. With his human bloodline suppressed by the Sun Elf bloodline, he lacked the mental perception abilities of a Ferocious human, including Combat Intuition and Danger Precognition, and certainly could not master the Touch of the Mind exemplified by someone like Tournans.

Fortunately, Victor had always striven to maintain his human bloodline. Through the Poltanos Secret Art, combined with the wind and water elemental affinities of his Moon Elf bloodline, his efforts had finally borne fruit. He had obtained His Highness Randell’s unique Touch of the Mind: Chilling Wind, Grasp of the Wind Djinn, and Wings of the Wind Sylph.

The might of a mythological creature was now on full display.

These three new Touch of the Mind abilities consumed a particularly large amount of vigor; after all, they overlaid the most basic vigor growth effect. Victor could not use these new abilities repeatedly or for long periods. He vaguely felt that his spiritual power lacked an important carrier—the hypothetical Source Power—and this was the flaw that caused his rapid consumption of vigor.

Just as Victor was frowning in thought, his two Dragonkin handmaidens sidled up to him. Daphdilier’s eyes swam with emotion as she asked in a soft voice, “King, shall we all return to the wooden villa now?”

Victor pressed a hand to his forehead. The Poltanos Secret Art was not entirely perfect; its other side effect always made one feel a little uncomfortable.

Chapter 767: The Sword Saint Transmits the Art

Narsen was left to clean up the battlefield. The fleeing beastmen had no valuable spoils anyway. The Alchemical Dragon-Lizards and aberrant war beasts would come over for a feast, and not even a single bone of the Gnolls and Goblins would remain.

Victor returned to the wooden villa with Dili and Fugerui. It took some effort to placate the two clingy Dragonkin handmaidens before he could begin seriously considering the legacy of the Poltanos Secret Art and its negative side effects.

The mythical three-headed lizard visualization was similar in principle to the “Apostle” secret art. The difference was that the “Apostle” was formless and intangible—a virtual combat persona passed down through the Bloodline, which had to be activated with a special mind potion. It was a type of special mind talent. The Poltanos Secret Art, on the other hand, not only had a concrete form but could also gather the practitioner’s stray spiritual power and be actively controlled by them.

In a sense, Poltanos was a “living” spiritual being.

A practitioner had to visualize a “living” mythical three-headed lizard in their spiritual world. Only then could It gather spiritual power to promote and strengthen certain of the practitioner’s Bloodline Laws.

Nurturing a “living” creature in one’s mind would inevitably lead to very serious problems: a fractured soul? A split personality? Mental derangement?

In any case, it couldn’t be anything good. The practitioner would surely go insane.

Victor’s solution to this problem was to never bestow personality, emotion, or wisdom upon the visualization object.

In truth, Poltanos didn’t have to take the form of a three-headed lizard. After all, no such creature had yet been discovered in the human kingdoms.

Poltanos was a visualization object meticulously designed by Victor, based on the image of the Hydra Lizard.

Victor gave It three heads, symbolizing the Laws of earth, wind, and water elements, respectively. The fire element’s Law, however, was closely related to the human soul. He worried that adding a head symbolizing the fire element would cause the practitioner’s soul to fracture.

In reality, the practitioner’s soul was Poltanos’s main head. Only a visualization object embodying all four elements—earth, fire, wind, and water—could be described as having the characteristics of life. The practitioner and the visualization object were one and the same, which was why they could control Poltanos at will: to gather vigor, to have that vigor fed back, to break through the limits of their Spirit attribute, and even to awaken It and unify It with their soul to temporarily gain a certain mind talent.

The second reason for choosing the three-headed lizard as the visualization object was that It had a real, objective blueprint: the Lord of the Marsh, the Hydra Lizard.

Victor had used his Insight on the Hydra Lizard’s physical structure to deduce its Bloodline Laws, finding the common ground between the Hydra’s and the human primordial being’s Bloodline Laws. If he had conjured up some imaginary three-headed dog or three-headed wolf, visualization would have been impossible, let alone linking the visualization object to human Bloodline Law.

The final reason was that the Hydra Lizard normally lived in a muddled state. Its bestial instincts outweighed its wisdom, which had earned it the tolerance of the Creator’s pan-consciousness, allowing it to maintain a long, powerful, and stable life form.

Since the visualization object could not be imbued with personality, emotion, or wisdom, borrowing the Hydra’s form for Poltanos was an excellent choice.

Imbuing the visualization object with bestial instincts was far simpler than designing a personality and wisdom for It. Poltanos was a visualization object of pure instinct. When the practitioner was awake, It would hibernate; when the practitioner’s primary consciousness slept, It would awaken to devour the orbs of light falling from the sky—the spiritual power visualized by the practitioner—growing stronger little by little until it reached its limit.

At that point, Poltanos would grow no further. The practitioner could then, like a Hydra Lizard unifying the souls of its nine heads, command It to perish, absorb all of Its power, and increase the strength of their Soul Fire, thereby breaking through the upper limit of their Spirit attribute.

Under normal circumstances, a Poltanos of pure instinct would not negatively affect the practitioner. But what would happen if the practitioner awakened Poltanos to gain the abilities of the Touch of the Mind, or even the Light of the Mind?

As it turned out, when Poltanos opened its eyes, it also awakened Victor’s own bestial instincts.

The mind and Bloodline were a single entity. When the mind fluctuated, the corresponding Bloodline Laws reacted. Every time Victor tested Chilling Wind, Grasp of the Wind Djinn, or Wings of the Wind Sprite, he would feel his desires surge, manifesting as instincts to hunt, to eat, to hibernate, and also to mate.

Legendary creatures had difficulty producing offspring, so procreating their superior Bloodlines was their highest priority. The Sun Elves and Hydra Lizards were no exception, so how could primordial humans be any different?

The lives of all beings are finite; the propagation of the species is an unavoidable issue. Unless someone could become immortal, their will persisting for eternity, they would have no need for descendants, nor would the familial emotions of humanity ever form.

Therefore, when Poltanos awakened Victor’s bestial instincts, his other desires were trivial, but the thought of mating would pop up from time to time. If Victor didn’t interfere, the urge to mate would take several hours to subside naturally.

Of course, the Mind’s Dominator could easily solve such a minor problem. With a slight turn of the X-3, all instinctual desires would vanish, causing Victor no hindrance whatsoever.

However, Victor hadn’t expected the Dragonkin handmaidens’ draconic perception to pick up on his physical and mental changes in this regard. Laila and the others saw their Master as both a Dragon King and a spouse, seizing every opportunity to lavish affection on him. The problem was that these four Dragonkin handmaidens were clueless about worldly affairs, and their repeated advances had left Victor acutely embarrassed on several occasions.

Victor could only curse the ancient Alchemists in his heart. For a paltry bit of research funding, they had been in cahoots with the corrupt powers-that-be, loading the Will Side of alchemical units with the attributes of a plaything. They had no shame at all.

This was the flaw of the Poltanos Secret Art. Granting the visualization object personality and wisdom would cause the practitioner’s mind to fracture; granting It pure instinct meant that awakening It would subject the practitioner’s body and mind to the influence of bestial nature.

Theoretically, someone who had ignited their fire of the mind could use their willpower to overcome the bestial nature induced by the visualization object. But just because the Raging Wind Sword Saint could easily solve the problem didn’t mean others could. It was like the enemies the Raging Wind Sword Saint could kill—others facing them would likely not even have a chance to escape.

The Poltanos visualization worked even for the Raging Wind Sword Saint, which showed how advanced it was. However, for Victor to use himself as the reference standard for testing the visualization was setting the bar too high. If his trusted subordinates practiced the Poltanos Secret Art and their minds became corrupted by the visualization object, turning them into muddle-headed beasts, that was a real possibility.

Aside from the hypothetical Source Power, the Poltanos Secret Art represented the current pinnacle of the theory of the Mind and Bloodline. If it couldn’t be passed down, its significance would be greatly diminished, and the development of the Mind Warrior system would hit a dead end, stalling at the intermediate level.

Should he teach the Poltanos Secret Art to Narsen and the others, or not?

As Victor hesitated, unable to decide, Charlotte glided gracefully into the room. She curtsied and called out in a soft voice, “Your Highness…”

She wore a light, breathable ladies’ shirt of fine linen, her long, well-proportioned, jade-white legs exposed to the air. Her fair, slender, bare feet were shod in a pair of cattail-woven sandals. Her golden hair was done in a braid that rested on her left shoulder. A sweet, gentle smile played on her lips, and her clear, emerald-green eyes were filled with tenderness. Her whole appearance was natural and casual, with a rare rustic charm.

Charlotte insisted on calling it a “forest temperament,” fitting for the atmosphere of their wooden villa. In any case, this log house was her and Victor’s private space, shared with the four Dragonkin handmaidens, and no one else was allowed inside. It didn’t matter how they dressed or what styles they adopted within the villa.

Over the past few months, Charlotte had often gone out to transplant wildflowers and grasses, bringing them back to decorate the residence she shared with Victor and the four Dragonkin handmaidens. Under Charlotte’s deft hands, this crude log building gradually began to feel like a home.

In truth, the Dragonkin handmaidens had little interest in decorating their “lair”; they would have been fine living in a bare cave. But seeing Charlotte so often praised and favored by their Master, they did their best to imitate her. It had an effect, too. Influenced by Charlotte, the Dragonkin handmaidens had started to become more sensible, acting more and more like His Highness Randell’s personal maids.

Charlotte spent her days leading the Dragonkin handmaidens, busying herself in and out of the house planting flowers, making furniture, and even gathering herbs and wild fruits to dry for tea and brew for wine. Victor would sometimes mutter to himself, “Does she plan to live here with me for the rest of our lives?”

Victor had to admit that Charlotte was no longer the Lady Judy of the past. She had once lost everything; now, aside from Victor’s favor, there was nothing she needed to strive for.

Of course, for an ordinary female knight, the favor of a mythological creature was already the most extravagant luxury. A Hydra Lizard would help its Lizardman servants carve out a superior living environment; Dragons would grant their servants powerful Bloodline energy. Victor felt he ought to give the retainers by his side a chance to change their fates. Otherwise, how could he call himself the Mind’s Dominator?

Moreover, looking at it from another angle, he thought that while the side effects of the Poltanos Secret Art were potent, there was no need to worry too much about Charlotte and the others having their minds corrupted by the visualization object.

A practitioner with a Soul Fire strength below thirty points would find it nearly impossible to make Poltanos open its eyes. As long as the visualization object wasn’t awakened, the possibility of the practitioner suffering mental corruption was perhaps not as great as he had imagined.

Victor couldn’t predict Narsen’s future achievements, but even if Charlotte, Klaus, and Brandon practiced the most top-tier version of the Poltanos Secret Art, their chances of advancing to Gold Knight were minuscule, let alone reaching the Legendary-rank, which required a base Spirit attribute of thirty.

Victor decided to follow his heart’s desire. He smiled and said, “Darling, you look very charming today.”

A sweetness filled Charlotte’s heart. Swaying her willowy waist, she walked over and took her lover’s arm, saying softly, “Your Highness, Father Dayn had a sword-wielding handmaiden ask when we will be going to the Great Plains.”

A faint light flickered in Victor’s dark gold eyes. Countless thoughts flashed through his mind in an instant, but he only teased his beautiful and enchanting concubine, “The potted plants you trimmed haven’t even bloomed yet. Can you bear to leave this place?”

Charlotte rested her sharp, enchanting chin on Victor’s shoulder and hugged his arm tightly. “I don’t want any of it!” she said, her voice firm and resolute. “I just want to be by your side. Anywhere is fine… Darling, don’t make me stay behind, please? Hmm, I think Brandon should stay at the garrison to receive the logistics battalion that will follow. He… he has potential, but his strength isn’t there yet.”

Victor planned to mobilize six hundred elites from the Centaur Hills to act as a logistics unit. They would enter the Grey Rabbit Mountains ahead of the main force to build some supply camps for the allied army. The Randell Expeditionary Force had to leave a team behind to guide the logistics battalion. This battalion would certainly include battle priests and Sacred Warriors from the Church. Dayn, currently clutching the sacred crystal Father Miller had given him, was not keen on seeing his colleagues from the Church.

The assistant priest of Laketon’s thinking was simple. He had secretly followed His Highness Randell on the expedition behind Bishop Pello’s back, which was a dereliction of his duty. This was Dayn’s own choice, and now he could only cling to the God-favored Miller and follow Victor down this path to the very end.

Victor’s mind wasn’t on this. Charlotte’s mention of Father Dayn had reminded him of an agreement he had with Miller.

Back then, Father Miller had been unwilling to travel with Victor. He had “borrowed” some power from the Lord of Radiance, given it to Dayn, and had Dayn accompany Victor on the expedition. In exchange, however, Miller had also demanded that Victor teach his Mind Bloodline secret art to Dayn.

The exchange wasn’t limited to this expedition; it also included helping Dayn secure a high position in the Church, becoming His Highness Randell’s close ally within the Holy See.

Had the Raging Wind Sword Saint and the top-tier God-favored truly only struck a deal for political gain?

The Radiant Church had a legacy thousands of years old and was filled with talent. Even Victor wouldn’t dare boast that his Poltanos Secret Art was superior to a secret art from the Church’s collection. At best, his visualization was a Legendary-rank secret art, but the Church’s monasteries had monsters like Ron the Master.

Even with the Poltanos Secret Art, Narsen wasn’t guaranteed to advance to the legendary realm. Yet how could Ron the Master, an ordinary person, have set foot in the Saint’s realm without an exceptionally brilliant secret art of the mind?

On the other hand, the clergy of the Radiant Church did not worship totems. Their objects of meditation were complex patterns and models compatible with holy power. Although the Poltanos Secret Art was precious, it wasn’t very suitable for the clergy. Once they reached a certain level of practice, they would have to abandon the mythical three-headed lizard visualization and switch to the Church’s secret arts of the mind.

The Church might be very happy to collect and draw inspiration from the visualization method pioneered by His Highness Randell. But for the clergy, it was better to focus on their own meditation methods than to waste time on his visualization.

Therefore, Victor concluded that his agreement with Miller was a pact born of the Great Divination.

Miller had foreseen Victor’s meeting with the mythical nine-headed hydra and also foresaw the birth of the Poltanos Secret Art. If Victor taught the secret art to Dayn, then Miller’s Great Divination concerning this expedition would come into effect.

With the sacred crystal Miller had given him, Father Dayn could perform Legendary-rank divine arts, but his own strength was ordinary. He hadn’t even ignited his fire of the mind; his Spirit attribute was definitely less than twenty. The so-called Gold-rank priest was an imposter. In terms of physical fitness and martial skills, Dayn was at the bottom of the Expeditionary Force.

If even the weakest, Dayn, could return from the Endless Forest to the human kingdoms, then in Miller’s eyes, Victor’s expedition would be a close call, but ultimately successful. Otherwise, how could Dayn bring the secret art back to the Holy See as a stepping stone for his promotion?

Victor’s Golden Toad Mystic Form was not adapted to the Laws of the Taelon World; he had only modified it into the Poltanos visualization by drawing on the meditation methods from the Church’s collection. It was inevitable that a newly created high-level secret art would have flaws. As conceited as Victor was, he wasn’t so arrogant as to think his own talent and knowledge could eclipse the nearly ten-thousand-year legacy of the Radiant Church.

A poor man who doesn’t think about borrowing from the rich, but instead clutches his meager possessions, terrified that the rich will covet them, deserves to be destitute.

The solution to the mind-corrupting flaw of the mythical three-headed lizard probably lay with Dayn… The Church certainly had experience in this area; they had been studying secret arts of the mind for thousands of years and had encountered all sorts of situations. Just look at how many genuine Legendary-ranks the Church had. I know four Legendary Priests myself, and who knows how many monsters like Ron there are in the monasteries… If Dayn could become the Pontiff, would I have a chance to observe their advanced secret arts?

As Victor’s mind raced with various schemes to steal the Church’s secret arts, his eyes burned brightly. “I’ve decided…” he said.

“What?” Charlotte asked, looking at her beloved Master with a puzzled expression.

“I’ve decided… Today, the Sword Saint transmits the art.”

Chapter 768: Clarification and Suspicion

The thirteen people who received Victor’s invitation to learn the new art—the Knights and Ferocious Warriors of the House of Randell, the two rank-five Source-blood militia, Reno and Shak, Imosen and his daughter, and Father Dayn—arrived one after another at the log cabin villa, packing the small living room to the brim.

Charlotte and the four Dragonkin handmaidens, dressed in formal attire, acted as a hostess and her maids serving guests. They arranged seats for Narsen, Dayne, and the others, and served them homemade herbal tea.

Unlike Charlotte’s radiant smile and gentle warmth, the four Dragonkin handmaidens all looked unhappy. This cabin was their love nest with the Dragon King, and it would be strange if the she-dragons were pleased to have mere servants invade their master’s lair. Of course, the female Dragonoids possessed beauty and alluring figures that rivaled even a Gold-rank female knight, so even their cold glares were a sight to behold.

The Dragonkin handmaidens still equated Narsen and the others with the Dragon’s servant clans, placing their status even a notch below the Alchemical militia, Alchemical Dragon-Lizards, Alchemical Warhounds, and alchemical crows outside. They were considered “menial servants” from the periphery of the servant clans.

Victor felt it would still take a long time to properly train Laila and her sisters. But in any case, the fact that they didn’t use their Fearful Gaze to drive away the “draconic menial servants” who had trespassed into their lair was a step forward worthy of affirmation and encouragement.

Sensing their master’s heartfelt approval, the Dragonkin handmaidens’ attitudes toward Narsen and the others improved significantly. But the villa’s living room was indeed a little small. It had not been very spacious even when only six people lived there; now, with more than a dozen people suddenly arriving, the space felt even more cramped.

Victor had the four Dragonkin maids withdraw first. This time, he didn’t issue a forcible command through their Mental Link, but instead made the request in a soft, gentle tone. The purpose of this was to strengthen the side of their Will that belonged to humanity. Laila, Dili, and the others, as he had hoped, gracefully gathered their skirts and curtsied to the guests before taking their leave.

With the Dragonkin handmaidens out of the living room, the followers all felt a sense of relief. Even though the maids were stunningly beautiful, no one besides His Highness Randell would ever see these horned, non-human women as cute and gentle personal maids.

At a signal from Victor, Charlotte carried several animal skin scrolls to the middle of the living room. She unrolled them one by one and tacked them onto a display stand that had been prepared in advance.

While she was still busy, Victor clapped his hands to draw everyone’s attention and announced, “Today, I will be teaching you all a set of visualization techniques. Time is limited, so I will first introduce the effects of practicing this new visualization art…”

When Victor mentioned the secret art’s effects on longevity and vitality, Imosen’s eyes lit up, and the Ferocious Warriors and Tao De also grew animated with interest.

Everyone wanted a longer life. Moreover, the Poltanos Secret Art emulated the Bloodline Law of the Hydra Lizard, not only allowing practitioners to live long but also to maintain a relatively full vitality. This was extremely attractive to the Ferocious Warriors. Even though their lifespans were longer than ordinary people’s, they could not escape the problems of aging and decline. As for Tao De, he was a senior apprentice knight with combat power on par with an initial-rank Bronze Knight, but he couldn’t passively interact with void elements like a senior knight to maintain his longevity and vitality.

If someone had told Tao De that practicing a certain secret art could grant him the lifespan and vitality of a senior Bronze Knight, he would have surely dismissed them as a charlatan. But the Poltanos Secret Art was created by the Raging Wind Sword Saint himself; its value was heavier than gold.

When Victor moved on to its effect of restoring vigor, Tao De noticed that Brandon, Klaus, and Father Dayn were just as focused as he was, but the expressions of Lord Narsen and the other Ferocious Warriors, like Blood Python Macy, had slackened.

Vigor was two sides of the same coin as a Knight’s Aura or a priest’s holy power. The speed at which vigor recovered was crucial for Knights, priests, and even Wizards. Ferocious Warriors had almost no skills that consumed vigor. However, when His Highness Randell said the secret art could also enhance the strength of one’s soul, their spirits lifted again. Narsen couldn’t hide his excitement and asked, “My lord, was the move you used to deal with the Gnolls and Goblins today also the Poltanos Secret Art?”

Victor nodded with a smile. “When the Poltanos Secret Art is practiced to its peak, the abilities each person gains will be different, but that was indeed the Touch of the Mind.”

The ever-composed Klaus also clenched his fists, his eyes shining as he inquired, “My lord, if I practice the Poltanos Secret Art, will I have a chance to become a Silver Knight?”

Tao De watched nervously as His Highness Randell nodded once more. In that instant of relief, he felt a dizzying illusion as if all the strength had been drained from his body. He faintly heard his master continue, “The Knight-Nobles divide people into four levels—Bronze, Silver, Gold, and Legendary—based on the strength of their fire element, that is, their spiritual strength. I’ve further subdivided this. A basic spirit attribute of eleven to fourteen points is Bronze-rank; fifteen to twenty-four points is Silver-rank; twenty-five to twenty-nine points is Gold-rank; and a basic spirit attribute of thirty or more belongs to the legendary realm.”

“My lord, what’s a ‘basic spirit attribute’?” Narsen scratched his head, his face a picture of confusion.

Victor glanced at Father Dayn first before turning to explain to Narsen, “Knights have an affinity with the elements. When they circulate their Aura, they can simultaneously increase the strength of all four elemental systems, including the strength of the fire element. Senior Bronze Knights like Charlotte and Klaus can raise their fire element strength to around twenty points, but this consumes Aura. When they aren’t using their Aura, they only have an average elemental attribute of fifteen points. This is called the basic attribute. In reality, the basic attributes of a senior Bronze Knight and an initial-rank Silver Knight are not that different; it’s just that a Bronze Knight cannot manifest void elements. If a senior knight’s basic spiritual strength were to increase just a little more, they could perhaps become an Extraordinary Knight.”

“The basic elemental attribute of a Gold Knight is twenty-five points. Since a Gold Knight has a deeper mastery over the elements, they usually suppress them to avoid prolonged erosion from the void elements, maintaining a basic attribute of only around fifteen points. Both boosting and suppressing elements are, in fact, illusions.”

Victor’s gaze finally landed on the priest. He asked with a smile, “Dayne, is my explanation correct?”

Dayne, startled, collected himself and answered respectfully, “High-ranked Knights use elemental perception to judge a person’s fire element strength; the Shepherds of the Supreme Lord use the divine art of true sight to observe a person’s soul strength. Your Highness has subdivided the spirit attribute, proposing a new system to measure the level of life. Although I cannot be certain how one point of spirit attribute presents itself, both Sacred Protection and the Divine Art of the Fire of the Mind temporarily increase a person’s soul strength. Therefore, I believe Your Highness’s description is correct. There are indeed two states: a basic attribute and a false one.”

The lifespans of low and middle-ranked clergy were relatively short, but high-ranked priests could extend their own lives through certain divine arts. As long as they didn’t overuse their divine power, they could generally live to be around one hundred twenty, and their vitality was comparable to that of a senior knight.

Dayne showed little interest in the extraordinary effects of Poltanos, seeming to have no intention of switching to the Mind Bloodline secret art. This further convinced Victor of his earlier judgment—the Church did not lack high-level, mind-oriented secret arts.

He withdrew his gaze from the priest and continued speaking to his followers, “The various effects of the Poltanos Secret Art, such as the Touch of the Mind, the fire of the mind, and breaking a Knight’s elemental barrier, all await further verification. What I can guarantee is that it can forge an outstanding Vital Tenacity Talent—longevity, vitality, strength, resilience, Elemental Resistance, and hibernation healing—one that is even more powerful than the Vital Tenacity Talent of an initial-rank Mind Warrior.”

“From now on, you have the time of one standard hourglass to memorize the visualization charts I have drawn. Try to remember every detail… Let’s begin.” Victor moved to the side of the living room, leaving the central spot to Charlotte.

Charlotte turned all six easels around. Tacked to them were six animal skin scrolls, each painted with a form of the mythical three-headed lizard, Poltanos.

Everyone’s eyes widened as they stared blankly at the six visualization charts. After a moment, Imosen was the first to break the silence in the room. He murmured, “This is different from the visualizations we’ve done before… It’s too hard to remember them. C-could I copy them down?”

The followers of the House of Randell had all learned a visualization method before. It involved visualizing one’s own image, from external appearance to inner potential—it was actually a form of internal visualization. However, aside from Victor himself, the vast majority of practitioners had never achieved true internal visualization.

The visualization charts Victor provided this time did not depict a human form but the mythical three-headed lizard, Poltanos. It was fully rendered in scale armor, so lifelike that it possessed a deep, natural aura, as if it were a great beast sealed alive within the scrolls.

To memorize six such drawings in such a short time—never mind Imosen, everyone felt they couldn’t do it.

“You cannot!”

Everyone turned to look at Father Dayn, who had spoken out in opposition. He raised his right hand and traced a triangular holy symbol over his chest, saying solemnly, “The Lord says, the honest shall be rewarded, while the deceitful shall gain nothing… To be honest, one must first be honest with oneself. To be deceitful is to blind oneself with lies. His Highness Randell is imparting a precious secret art. You must be sincere in heart and mind to reap its benefits. Those who try to be clever and cut corners are unworthy, and they will be unable to grasp the power His Highness bestows.”

Imosen looked troubled and stammered, “Master… with only this much time, I’m afraid I can’t even memorize a single picture.”

Victor smiled and turned to say, “Dayne, why don’t you explain it to these country bumpkins?”

Although Dayne was grumbling inwardly, he appeared very humble on the surface. “Your Highness, it is my honor.” He cleared his throat and continued, “His Highness Randell’s visualization method is very similar to a priest’s meditation method… Let’s put it this way: it’s normal that you can’t remember the visualization object right now. I can’t remember a priest’s meditation model either. But the purpose of meditation is for us to go from not remembering and not seeing clearly a complex model to finally remembering and seeing it clearly… Everything we see is hidden deep within our minds. Forgetting is only temporary. By digging into the power of your own mind, you can reconstruct that initial memory.”

Narsen, ever blunt, pressed, “So if we try our hardest to recall, we can strengthen our spiritual power?”

“It’s training,” Dayne said, glancing at him with a chuckle. “The more you train your body, the stronger it gets. The more you use your brain, the smarter you become. Surely, my lord, you can understand this principle? By the time you can recall all the visualization charts, you will find that your soul has already grown stronger.”

Father Dayn’s explanation was simple and easy to understand, and the audience had a collective moment of realization. In fact, the principles of meditation and visualization, when laid bare, were just that simple. Even the internal visualization method Victor had proposed was about “retrieving memory.” In the language of Earth, it could be called “accessing cellular memory.”

This level of visualization was too difficult, existing almost only in theory. Victor himself had only entered the state of internal visualization once. It was far less simple and easy to learn than the Church’s model-based meditation or the three-headed lizard visualization.

Dayn looked at the three-headed lizard visualization charts and commented, “His Highness’s visualization method is more complex than the meditation model I learned. You have a standard hourglass to memorize it. We priests get at most a quarter of an hour to view our meditation model. You must seize this time and memorize it with all your heart.”

“Your Excellency Dayne, I have another question,” Brandon said, raising his hand. “Let’s say, in the future, I can truly recall our master’s visualization chart. Will it be exactly the same as the original?”

“That’s impossible,” Dayne said with a grin. “Everyone sees the same thing with their own differences, so how could it be identical? But that’s not important. The question you should be asking is, will I be able to draw the visualization chart in the future?”

Klaus bowed slightly to Dayne and asked respectfully, “Your Excellency, is it very difficult to reproduce the visualization chart?”

Dayne shook his head, then nodded. “Few people can draw the visualization chart they see. I will only tell you that the Legendary Sacred Warrior Tournans could do it—and the chart he reproduced is a legacy treasure of the Sacred Warriors. If any of you can one day draw your own visualization chart by hand, your soul strength will have already reached the Legendary level.”

Narsen asked curiously, “Why is that?”

“Because of focus,” Dayne said seriously. “Meditation emphasizes a mind free of distractions. When we enter a state of meditation, we cannot hear or see; our focus is singular. We can’t even move a finger, so how could we draw a meditation chart? By the time we can meditate and draw at the same time, we have already cultivated our meditation method to its peak. Whether the chart we draw is identical to the one we first saw is no longer important. If you can draw the visualization chart, it too is a treasure that can be passed down.”

“Your Highness, I wonder if my explanation is correct?” Dayne asked, bowing to Victor.

Only visualization charts or meditation charts drawn by a legendary powerhouse were useful. There was no way for Victor’s followers to leak the Poltanos meditation method. By the time they were capable of leaking it, Victor wouldn’t stop them, because by then he would surely be a legendary powerhouse himself, with a legacy of his own.

However, how many of them could actually reach the Legendary realm? It was possible that not a single one would…

Victor nodded. “Father Dayn is correct. My visualization method borrows from the Church’s meditation method; the principle is the same… I must remind you all that the human mind is fickle and capricious; countless thoughts can flash through it in the blink of an eye. Therefore, one’s disposition is the most critical part of practicing this visualization. You must be singularly focused. Even if you don’t reach the Legendary realm, you will benefit greatly from the process of visualization. If you do as Imosen just suggested and copy the drawing first, that is a kind of opportunistic thought. It is like a weed in the mind, difficult to eradicate. Even if you held the visualization chart and looked at it every day, you would never make any progress.”

Victor glanced at the hourglass on the table and said leisurely, “Alright, the sand has already run down by a little less than half… Aka and Bel are looking around; Charlotte, Reno, and Shak have been memorizing the charts the whole time; the rest of you have been looking at me… Is there a chart on my face?”

A shiver went down everyone’s spines. They quickly turned their heads back and frantically memorized the six charts of the three-headed lizard.

Victor beckoned the priest over and said to him in a low voice, “Dayne, you practice your own meditation method every day. Did you think I called you here just to have you explain the principles of meditation?”

Dayne blinked, not understanding. He saw Victor mouth silently: This was old man Miller’s idea.

My lord Miller’s idea? Doesn’t that mean Lord Miller thinks I can use His Highness’s visualization secret art to step into the true legendary realm?

Shaken to his core, Dayne hurriedly went to study the six three-headed lizard visualization charts, focusing more intently than anyone else.

Though the dozen or so followers and Father Dayn only had just over an hour to memorize the charts, Victor lingered in the Grey Rabbit Mountains for another half a month to help them solidify their memories and, while he was at it, to teach them the accompanying breathing method and stance practice.

The three-headed lizard visualization had one drawback: when a practitioner entered a deep state of visualization, all their perceptual activities would cease. They would be completely unaware even if an enemy held a blade to their neck. Victor warned them repeatedly that once they had formed a prototype of the visualization object, they were absolutely not to practice the Poltanos Secret Art on their own without his approval and protection.

Although teaching his followers an advanced Mind Bloodline secret art during an expedition was somewhat ill-timed, Victor believed that old man Miller had a deeper meaning in mind. The top-tier God-favored would not act without reason. From Victor’s own perspective, he also hoped that the confidants he had personally cultivated could return to the Randell Fief alive. Any small increase in their strength from the Poltanos Secret Art would be a good thing.

Victor had a faint feeling that this might be related to the Ant-man Queen—or, to be precise, to the King of the Spirit Realm. According to the descriptions of the ancient Alchemists, that resurging Ancient God was an Ancient Behemoth renowned for its extraordinary mind power, and the Mental Link of the Ant-man monsters happened to confirm this.

Twenty-one days later, all the practitioners had successfully visualized a crude prototype of the mythical three-headed lizard. They were not ordinary people, after all; even the two Alchemical Humans, Reno and Shak, had a Spirit attribute of fifteen. As for the four Dragonkin handmaidens, Laila, Dili, and the others, Victor had directly imprinted the visualization creature into their minds. But he never would have imagined that the first person to fully visualize the mythical three-headed lizard would be not Aka, nor one of the Dragonkin handmaidens, but the little foodie, Beldina!

That very night, the little girl entered a cultivation state. The rhythm of her breathing in her sleep perfectly matched the characteristics of the Poltanos Secret Art, like a Hydra Lizard hibernating in the mud.

Victor was completely baffled and could only attribute her success to her exceptional talent. The girl had always been gluttonous and sleepy, and she grew especially slowly, much like Legendary creatures such as Hydras or Dragons.

At noon the next day, Victor bound the six visualization charts into a book, wrapped it carefully in more than a dozen layers of Oilcloth, sealed it in an Adamantine box, and buried it in a shallow pit. Laila and Dili transformed into their three-meter-tall Dragon-forms and worked together to move a giant boulder, placing it over the pit.

The strength of the Dragonkin surpassed even Caligula’s. More importantly, their sinews and bones were strong enough to bear the boulder’s weight. Not even an Ogre Warlord could lift such a boulder. Human craftsmen, however, could slowly chisel it apart with tools, or a Raging Wave Knightess could manifest a void water element to corrode and weaken it.

The Poltanos visualization chart was a legacy treasure. Victor had already written to Sylvia, telling her to have Trisley bring the logistics battalion to retrieve it. Without the mythical three-headed lizard visualization chart, the breathing method and stance practice Victor had previously given Sylvia were useless.

Victor believed that once Sylvia had the complete visualization legacy, combined with the Dawn Potion and Dreamhaze Potion, she would be fully capable of helping those Knights who had been promoted via potions to break through their elemental barriers. And in-depth research into the Mind Bloodline secret art would help the Spirit Knights escape their fate of an early death.

“Your Highness, the men for the garrison camp have been arranged,” Charlotte said softly, walking to Victor’s side.

Following Victor’s instructions, she had selected three of the most experienced Elite Guards to lead twenty initial-rank Mind Warriors and ten craftsmen. She had also equipped them with five Warhounds and fifteen Bear-Dogs.

Victor pushed hard against the giant boulder. Seeing that it didn’t budge an inch, he clapped his hands in satisfaction and turned to inspect the Alchemical militia who were staying behind.

He could remember the name of every single Alchemical Human. The captain of the remaining personnel was someone he was very familiar with: Bull. This Alchemical militia was twelve years old this year, a product of the Alchemy Tower’s second batch of alchemical units. He had engaged in Smuggling and had spent a long time with the Swamp Scouts; his intellect was almost no different from a normal person’s.

Victor was quite confident in Bull’s abilities. He placed a hand on his shoulder and said, “There are no powerful monsters or ferocious beasts near the camp. The logistics battalion won’t arrive until autumn, so you’ll have to stand guard here for at least four months. I’m leaving you all sixty-seven of the remaining dromedaries. Breed them well; these pack animals will be useful later.”

Bull struck his chest with his fist and said solemnly, “My lord, we will be worthy of your trust!”

Victor nodded and added, “You know My Lady Trisley. You and your men will guard what is under this rock… Don’t let anyone else know about it besides My Lady Trisley.”

“Yes, I will only tell My Lady Trisley where my master’s treasure is hidden,” Bull said in a stiff, formal tone.

Charlotte came closer, a worried look on her face. “Your Highness, the Poltanos visualization chart is no small matter. Why don’t we wait until My Lady Trisley arrives before we leave… Don’t you want to see her?”

Victor’s deep gaze turned toward the west of the mountains, in the direction of the Great Plains. He slowly shook his head and said in a low voice, “I am making my preparations, and my opponent is making theirs… I have a premonition. The longer I delay, the harder it will be for me to deal with it.”

“We move out now. We will cross the plains and head for the Endless Forest!”

Chapter 769: Encounter with Thieves on the Grassland

The Great Plains in early summer were a vibrant, colorful tapestry, brimming with life. The lush green oil-grass stretched out like a boundless ocean to the horizon where heaven and earth met. Wild alfalfa, Goldsilk Grass, and ryegrass grew with abandon, asserting their tenacious life force amidst the sea of oil-grass. Low shrubs dotted this verdant ocean—lilac, sea buckthorn, and silvergrass, along with other nameless thickets—undulating like waves on a green sea, rising and falling with the wind.

Beneath the curtain of green sea and blue sky were scattered exotic flowers of every color, wild fruits, and berries, adding a lively and enchanting quality to the magnificent, boundless plains. Among them were many rare species, like the Golden Blood Moss, with its broad, glossy leaves of vibrant red marked by a single, dazzling golden line. Not only were they beautiful and eye-catching, but they were also key ingredients in many potion formulas.

As far as the eye could see, one small patch of grassland held dozens of these Golden Blood Moss plants.

The Randell Expeditionary Force’s caravan formed a long, snaking line as it made its way across the breathtaking sea of grass. Fifteen massive Dragon-Lizards, their muscles rippling with a taut elegance, each pulled a clumsy, heavily-laden supply cart, their solid log wheels carving deep ruts into the grassy earth. They would even leisurely lower their heads, using their barbed tongues to curl up the Golden Blood Moss from the clumps of grass and chew on it slowly.

A hundred burly, powerful soldiers followed the Dragon-Lizard war beasts, most of them pulling two-wheeled carts also laden with supplies. Under the blazing sun, these men, acting as human cart-pullers, strode as if flying. Their faces showed no sweat, and their breathing was as steady as ever; they made it look effortless.

Not everyone had to walk. The fifteen large log carts had plenty of room for people to rest. His Highness Randell’s followers and Father Dayn all had their own spots, but not everyone liked staying inside a carriage.

Beldina, riding her big dog “white bread,” squealed with delight as she shot out from the column and into the beautiful plains. It was her first time seeing the plains, and everything was new and fascinating to her. In the distance, a prairie fox with a freshly caught fat ground-rat in its mouth was curiously watching the caravan, which was all the encouragement Beldina needed to dash off and frolic.

Aka, the big simpleton, roared with laughter and chased after “white bread,” while the two Alchemical Warriors assigned to protect Beldina scrambled to keep up. From his carriage, Imosen the Wizard called out to “white bread,” trying to get it to bring Beldina back, but the Savage warhound paid him no mind, carrying its young mistress farther and farther away. Resigned, Imosen had no choice but to order several Razorbeasts the size of spotted tigers to give chase and protect his precious daughter.

In truth, Beldina wasn’t in much danger in the outer regions of the plains. The wild grass grew thick, high enough to cover an adult’s shins, but due to the lack of a stable water source, there were almost no large herbivores. Only small animals like wild rabbits, prairie marmots, foxes, wildcats, and badgers scurried through the grass. One might occasionally encounter one or two old wolves, but never a full pack.

A whole wolf pack could not survive by hunting just rabbits and rats, to say nothing of larger predators and monster races.

The main dangers on the outskirts of the plains were venomous snakes hiding in the grass and the risk of getting lost. However, with Caligula by her side, these were not concerns.

Watching little Bel’s joyful capering, a smile touched Victor’s lips. He recalled how that long-haired, platinum-blond Princess had also snuck away to frolic by herself the first time she entered the Warton Great Plains, causing the entire Gambis Expeditionary Force to deviate from its planned route. The accompanying battle priest was hopping mad, but to no avail; he could only follow the main force across the Warton Great Plains to a remote border town, where they watched as the Swift Dragon Knights held a private meeting with Dodor’s Ironwall Knights.

Roland was a powerful Gold Knight, whereas Bel was just a pure and innocent little girl. It was no wonder Imosen was so anxious, and the other followers in the party were worried Bel might meet with some accident.

Victor thought for a moment and decided to send the Dragonkin handmaiden Mewen after them as well. “white bread” was, after all, a Savage warhound with astonishing speed, and could easily carry Beldina deep into the plains. Caligula was also a big, thoughtless kid who would just run wild afrer Bel. With Mewen by their side, their safety would be guaranteed.

In truth, Victor was spoiling Bel and Aka, allowing them to explore and play on the plains. He had the power to indulge these two bundles of joy.

Bel and Aka had already run out of sight, but the caravan didn’t stop to wait for them, pressing onward instead. The most important thing when marching in the wilderness was to find a water source first. The expedition’s soldiers and war beasts couldn’t survive on the moisture from grass blades alone, like rabbits and marmots. Only by finding a shallow river on the plains could the caravan make camp and rest. It would also allow them to find traces of large animals and beastmen.

Surveying the environment of the Great Plains and the distribution of monster races was the Expeditionary Force’s next major task. Victor hoped to complete this work within two months. The expedition had to enter the Endless Forest on the west side of the plains before autumn arrived. Otherwise, the forest’s cold climate, scarce food, and roads blocked by rain and snow would severely hinder their exploration.

Finding a river on the vast, boundless Great Plains was no easy task. Fortunately, the caravan had eyes in the sky. Imosen the Wizard released his green-eyed eagles, using their high-altitude vision to search for a water source. However, the appearance of the green-eyed eagles attracted ferocious prairie sparrowhawks. Calling their kin, they brazenly attacked the larger intruders, and with their superior numbers, they actually managed to beat back the Wizard’s trained eagles, which suffered repeated defeats. The alchemical crows and forest falcons couldn’t fly high enough to be of any help. Victor had to intervene personally, summoning the wind element to pick off the prairie sparrowhawks one by one from thousands of meters above the ground. Only then did the flock of hawks flee the aerial battlefield. The attack still resulted in three green-eyed eagles falling to their deaths with broken wings.

The hawks’ defeat in battle announced the arrival of uninvited guests to the Great Plains. With the caravan unable to hide its tracks on the open plains, there was no longer any need for Victor to send out vanguard and flank scouting parties. Everyone gathered with the caravan, hurrying toward the river more than three hundred kilometers away.

The Alchemical Dragon-Lizards had incredible endurance; even pulling freight carts, they could travel a thousand li a day. The third-rank Sourceblood Warriors with the Vital Tenacity Talent could keep pace with the Dragon-Lizard-pulled carts. The real factor limiting their speed was the carts themselves.

While the Expeditionary Force was stopped in the Grey Rabbit Mountains, the soldiers had felled trees and processed them into lumber, which the craftsmen in the party then used to convert fifteen sled-carts into four-wheeled carriages and dozens of two-wheeled handcarts. These vehicles were far from exquisitely crafted—merely crude and durable—but they couldn’t withstand the abuse of the Alchemical Dragon-Lizards. If they went too fast, the carts would surely fall apart.

The caravan could only maintain a speed of around thirty kilometers per hour, which was still much faster than traveling with dromedaries. Around dusk, the party arrived at the bank of a shallow river. The clear water reflected the deep violet sky, looking like a magnificent purple ribbon laid across the green grass. Unfortunately, there were no large animals near the riverbank; they must have detected the outsiders and fled in advance. Tonight’s dinner could only be cured meat, salted fish, and wheat porridge with dry biscuits.

Narsen directed the soldiers in setting up camp. They arranged the large carts in a circle and took long wooden pikes from them to place in the gaps between the carts. This was a common camping method used by the nomads of the Worton Plains. Tents were supposed to be pitched in the middle of the camp, but the Randell Expeditionary Force hadn’t brought many oilcloth tents, as the Mind Warriors were impervious to cold and heat. They only needed to spread a blanket on the grass to spend the night.

The limited number of tents were reserved for the followers. As for His Highness himself, the largest carriage in the caravan served as his temporary residence. Under Charlotte’s direction, the craftsmen in the party used wooden components and oilcloth to build a pretty and unique tent-cabin around the carriage. In fact, this unique tent set was something Charlotte had asked the craftsmen to build according to her own design. Nicole had hoped Charlotte could take her place in looking after her husband’s daily life, and in this regard, Charlotte had put in a great deal of thought and was doing an excellent job.

Once the camp was set up, Victor had Laila, Dili, and Fugerui walk around inside the perimeter, and all the annoying blood-sucking mosquitoes and flies dropped dead.

The Dragonkin handmaidens’ Dragon’s Might was more effective than any insect repellent.

After everything was in order, the soldiers began to light fires and cook porridge. The aroma of cured meat mixed with wheat wafted through the air, but Beldina and the others had still not returned. Imosen could finally sit still no longer. He quietly found Victor and pleaded in a low, deferential voice, “Master, should we perhaps send a team to find Bel?”

Victor smiled and said, “They’re doing just fine. Aren’t your Razorbeasts with her? You can track her position at any time. There’s no need to worry so much. Just let them run wild for a couple of days.”

Imosen was about to say more when, through the flap of the tent, he suddenly glimpsed Charlotte, Macy, and the Dragonkin handmaidens leading the sword-wielding handmaidens to the river to wash up. They were lightly dressed, their smooth, snow-white calves bare, chattering and laughing as they passed through the reeds by the riverbank. The Wizard dared not look any longer, quickly bowing his head and taking his leave from Victor.

Watching Imosen’s hasty departure, Victor was at a loss for words. The ladies were just normally splashing around in the water. Imosen’s flustered state would make people mistakenly think he had stumbled upon the Master peeking at the ladies bathing and been shooed away.

Do I need to peek at beautiful ladies? Ever since my time in Aerie Fortress, it’s been the ladies peeking at me… Victor mused proudly, stroking his smooth chin. He did, in fact, possess a bit of a Sun Elf’s proud and shy nature.

After dinner, back in his carriage-tent, Victor discussed Imosen’s personal situation with Charlotte. He had noticed that over the past few months, Imosen had been getting closer and closer to Father Dayn, which was definitely not a good thing.

Although Imosen was a Wizard, he had believed in the Lord of Radiance since childhood, and his attitude toward the army priest was quite delicate. Dayn, for his part, could tell that Imosen was not a family wizard raised by the York family, but a Wild wizard. But Imosen’s innate Wizardry was very useful, especially his skill in cultivating aberrant war beasts. Any major power would welcome a talented wizard like Imosen, and the Church was no exception.

The populace believed that the clergy of the Lord of Radiance were mortal enemies of evil wizards. In fact, the Radiant Church was the power that harbored the most wizards. They had two methods for placing wizards: Shadow Priests selected from within the Theocracy of Ayr, and the secular regimes controlled by the Radiant Knights.

The Church also had a self-consistent justification for absorbing talented Wild wizards: only wizards whose souls were eroded by Devils were evildoers who must be Purified. The servants of the Lord of Radiance could offer Redemption for a wizard’s soul.

In short, whether a wizard was evil or not was for the priests to decide.

Dayn would inevitably have to declare Imosen not to be an evildoer; otherwise, he himself would become a fallen priest secretly colluding with Devils. With the priest’s guidance, Imosen had relaxed his guard around Dayn and now went to him for prayers every day, begging the Lord of Radiance to redeem his soul, and perhaps Beldina’s as well.

Father Dayn wouldn’t dare to poach from under His Highness Randell’s nose. For now, he just wanted to build good relationships with his traveling companions. In the future, if it was Patriarch Dayn who wanted to borrow Imosen’s abilities, then Dayn’s influence would be sufficient, and his courage would naturally follow.

The problem now was that Imosen, through his interactions with Father Dayn, was being exposed to a different world, and new ideas were bound to form in his mind. This was a basic human instinct for thought, impossible to control, and it didn’t mean Imosen would betray House of Randell. However, a wizard possessing extraordinary power must be bound and supervised by the family. The sword-wielding handmaidens could perform this task.

Sword-wielding handmaidens were, in reality, secret art death commandos painstakingly cultivated by the great families. A liege lord would only gift sword-wielding handmaidens to members of his own family. To say that sword-wielding handmaidens were the family’s spies planted by the side of core members was a bit of an overstatement. But if a core member remained aligned with the family, then the sword-wielding handmaidens were clearly a form of support from their liege lord. When the Elina sisters married and Nicole was enfeoffed as a Baron, they received sword-wielding handmaidens gifted from Rose Manor.

Narsen and the others had all chosen two sword-wielding handmaidens. Imosen didn’t understand the reasoning behind it and had yet to take the initiative. Victor didn’t care what he thought; he instructed Charlotte to pick two sword-w wieldiing handmaidens and assign them to him to take care of his daily needs and protect him.

The next morning, Victor planned to head north along the prairie river, and send the Dragonoid Raiders Dili and Fugerui south along the river, exploring this unfamiliar great plain in two separate prongs. The most powerful red Dragonkin handmaiden, Laila, would stay behind to guard the camp. He had originally wanted to go alone, which would have been much faster for exploration. Charlotte, however, had clung to Victor and begged him, insisting he take some guards with him. Victor had no choice but to have Klaus and Macy pick three Source-blood militia, who, along with three Alchemical Dragon-Lizards and four Alchemical Warhounds, would form a guard detachment to accompany him.

The Alchemical Dragon-Lizards truly lived up to their reputation as Silver-rank heavy transport units. When lightly loaded, they could run at sixty kilometers per hour for three days and three nights straight. And that was while conserving stamina for battle. If they ran at full speed, few monsters could catch them.

Unfortunately, as war beasts, the Alchemical Dragon-Lizards were not very friendly to their riders. A normal person wouldn’t just be unable to ride one for three days and nights; they would probably be dried out by the rushing wind in half a day. A veteran Bronze Knight could just barely utilize an Alchemical Dragon-Lizard’s capabilities.

Silver-rank war beasts were best paired with Silver-rank riders. The accompanying Source-blood militia limited the Alchemical Dragon-Lizards’ speed. It took Victor a full twenty-three days to explore the northern region of the Great Plains.

As they were nearing the camp on their return, Narsen, Father Dayn, Charlotte, and the four Dragonkin handmaidens all came out to greet Victor. After exchanging greetings, Victor noticed their strange expressions. He frowned and asked Narsen directly, “Did something happen here?”

Narsen’s expression was peculiar. In an uncertain tone, he said, “The camp seems to have… been robbed?”

Chapter 770: The Invader and the Thief from Within

“The first time the guard watching the supplies reported to me that a small bag of raw sugar was missing from the temporary warehouse, I didn’t think much of it… I thought he’d misremembered, or that the bag had been lost on the march.”

On the empty ground beside the carriage encampment, several wooden chairs were arranged in a circle. The group sat together as Charlotte reported the unusual situation in the camp to His Highness Randall.

The blonde, green-eyed female knight lowered her head in shame. She hadn’t realized that the alchemical humans were so meticulous, inventorying the supplies several times a day. If the guard reported a small bag of raw sugar missing from the temporary warehouse, it was certainly lost within the camp, and on that very day.

The expeditionary force carried large quantities of raw sugar; one more or one less bag was of no consequence. However, for an invader to infiltrate the camp and steal something right under everyone’s noses without a trace—that was another matter entirely.

Charlotte pressed her rosy lips together and continued her report to Victor, “Over the next ten days, there were six consecutive incidents of missing items in the camp. It was as if something would inexplicably vanish every other day. The missing items included sugar, salt, coffee, fresh fruit, wine, candied fruit, and seasoning… We realized something was amiss in the camp, but instead of launching a high-profile search, we pretended nothing had happened and observed from the shadows, hoping to find the thief.”

An amused expression couldn’t help but cross Victor’s face. He said in a light tone, “At the time, you thought the thieves were Beldina and Caligula, and you deliberately let them have their fun.”

Everyone else laughed as well, though their smiles were tinged with awkward frustration. Charlotte explained, “The thefts started after Bel and Aka returned, so we all mistook it for their mischief and didn’t pay it any mind.”

“So how were Aka and Bel cleared of suspicion?”

“On the twelfth day of the thefts, Aka’s most prized bag of spices and his iron pot were stolen. He frantically searched everywhere, then cried very loudly, completely heartbroken… We questioned Bel, but her guards testified that she was playing by the river behind the camp at the time. It couldn’t have been her.”

Charlotte paused and said gravely, “Aka couldn’t even find his own missing things. It was only then that we realized there was an invader in the camp.”

She glanced at Victor, stressing, “A terrifying invader.”

Victor fell silent for a moment, his gaze shifting to Narsen. “My Commander, how did you handle this matter?”

Narsen habitually scratched the back of his head, his voice deep. “I continued to act as if nothing had happened. I stopped practicing the Poltanos Secret Art so I wouldn’t lose my perception, and then I stood watch over the warehouse with the guards…”

Seeing Narsen trail off, Victor sat up straight in surprise. “The supplies in the warehouse were stolen right under your nose?”

Narsen shook his head, looking vexed. “It was my own tent that the thief visited. An Adamantine dagger and a silver spoon went missing.”

Victor couldn’t help but draw a sharp breath. The items Narsen had lost were small, but for a thief to bypass his watch and slip into his tent was something no ordinary person could do. The perpetrator’s mental perception had to be stronger than Narsen’s.

Victor thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Narsen, there’s an outsider invading the camp, and you’re still trying to set a quiet ambush… That doesn’t sound like the Bear of the Northlands’ style.”

Narsen flicked his eyes toward Dayne, his meaning clear: This guy told me to do it.

Dayne gave a wry smile. “I didn’t believe it was an outside enemy. I thought it was one of our own… Lord Narsen also didn’t believe an enemy could sneak into the camp, which is why he took my advice to handle the matter discreetly. Your Highness, as you know, some people, when placed in unusual circumstances, will exhibit strange behaviors to relieve stress, such as stealing. Besides, the things missing from the camp are just common supplies. If we made a big scene to find the person over such a small thing and caused them to lose all face, that wouldn’t be very good, would it?”

Dayne’s suspicion of a “thief from within” was a reasonable guess, so it was no wonder Narsen and Charlotte had adopted his recommendation.

The expeditionary camp was guarded by four Gold-rank Dragonoids, and the majority of the remaining two hundred or so personnel were alchemical militia with Perception attributes above fifteen. There were also Alchemical Dragon-Lizards, Alchemical Warhounds, and Bear-Dogs patrolling everywhere. On top of that, there were Imosen’s Razorbeasts, Philip II, and Philip III—these unnatural, Aberrant Beasts had an innate hunger for flesh and were exceptionally sensitive to living creatures. They could even dig up and eat horned frogs hiding underground.

From Victor’s perspective, the camp’s methods and layers of perception were comprehensive and rigorous. If he himself were to try to infiltrate a similarly protected camp to commit theft, the chances of not being discovered would be infinitesimal.

Victor looked at Charlotte again, and she gave a slight nod.

There were two sword-wielding handmaidens in Narsen’s tent. They had undergone the strictest light-sleep training, taking turns to remain vigilant while their master slept. Charlotte had clearly questioned them afterward. If Narsen’s sword-wielding handmaidens weren’t the “thieves from within,” then there really was an invader in the camp.

An “outside thief” who could steal something right beside the sword-wielding handmaidens could also poison or assassinate a family member rendered senseless by the practice of the Poltanos Secret Art.

That was why Charlotte had called the invader terrifying.

Narsen said in a gruff, muffled voice, “Stealing things from my tent is a provocation. I didn’t care who the thief was anymore and conducted a full search of the entire camp… The result was no footprints, no scent, nothing at all. It was as if… as if a ghost was wandering the camp… But I couldn’t sense it, and neither could Aka.”

Victor turned back to Laila, who was standing behind him. “And you? Don’t tell me you did nothing.”

A sternness underlined her Master’s question. The Dragonkin handmaiden Laila pouted her fiery red lips and said aggrievedly, “It’s not like what was stolen was My King’s treasure… The treasure My King told me to guard is all safe.”

“Charlotte asked for our help. My sisters and I searched carefully, but we didn’t find the thief,” the Dragonkin handmaiden Fugerui added from the side.

Charlotte nodded repeatedly in agreement and chimed in, “The sisters searched the area surrounding the camp, but unfortunately, they couldn’t find any clues. Over the next few days, we set traps, but the thief didn’t touch the food in them at all. Instead, the camp progressively lost tools like crystal lanterns, ropes, shovels, and scissors.”

Laila suddenly thought of something. She took the nine-headed hydra orb from a pouch on her waist and held it up in her slender, fair hand, looking at Victor with wide eyes as if to show him that the treasure she was guarding had not been stolen.

Dragonoids possess the draconic hindsight talent. If the treasure they guard is stolen, they can use their ability to trace back the past to lock onto the location of the thief and the treasure, then hunt the culprit to their death. But the Dragonoid handmaidens’ taste was not so poor as to label a few scraps of food and tools as “the Dragon King’s treasure,” and the private property lost by others had even less to do with them.

Mewen blinked her captivating blue eyes and said, “I’ll go get Bel…”

Bel was also “the Dragon King’s treasure.” Mewen was about to use her to prove they hadn’t been slacking in their guard duties. Victor shook his head with a wry smile, stopping Mewen. He instructed the Dragonkin handmaidens, “All of you, go back to the carriage and wait for me.”

“Yes,” the four Dragonkin sisters replied in unison.

After their tall, graceful figures disappeared into the carriage-house, Victor furrowed his long, sword-like brows and said thoughtfully, “Could it really be a ghost?”

At His Highness Randall’s self-posed question, the atmosphere suddenly turned cold and eerie. Narsen and Charlotte seemed to have had the same thought.

It was human nature to attribute unexplainable situations to ghosts and spirits. But a priest of the Lord of Radiance would never openly support terrifying rumors of the undead. Dayne said in a firm tone:

“Naturally occurring undead have nothing to anchor them and cannot last long, unless a Wizard uses Wizardry to provide them with a parasitic vessel. Even then, the undead cannot exist for long, because they are sustained entirely by the Wizard’s magic, and a Wizard’s magic is finite. It’s impossible to control an undead creature indefinitely. Besides, even if a ghost could steal things, it would have to manifest to pick up an object, and it would be tangible enough to be struck. Otherwise, a ghost can’t lift anything. And what about the stolen items? A ghost doesn’t need food or water… it needs nothing. The one who needs those supplies can only be the person controlling the ghost.”

Victor nodded and asked, “Priest, what’s your take on these thefts?”

After a moment of contemplation, Dayne looked up and said, “I still believe the problem lies within the camp… I suspect it’s Bel. Your Highness said she’s a little wizard, but she has never displayed any magical abilities. If she’s a Mind Body wizard, perhaps she could manipulate others to steal things for her… Of course, when a little wizard awakens their talent, most of them don’t even know what’s happening. What I mean is, Bel might be doing it unintentionally, using her powers in her sleep. But I have no proof.”

He wore the special Python skin inner armor of House of Randell under a short gray priest’s robe, a simple attire that clearly marked his identity as a cleric.

In the domains of Devils, Wizards, and the undead, a priest undoubtedly held the most authority. In fact, ninety-nine percent of undead incidents in the human kingdoms were related to Wizards. Naturally occurring undead also existed, but their activity was very brief. Often, the natural undead would dissipate before the person involved even noticed, making a priest’s exorcism unnecessary.

Dayne lacked practical experience in dealing with the undead, but that did not diminish his authority, at least not in the eyes of Narsen and Charlotte. To them, the priest’s opinion should be accurate.

Charlotte, however, was more meticulous. With her noble master behind her, she wouldn’t completely trust Dayne’s words. She asked cautiously, “Your Excellency Dayne, are you saying that even you can’t tell if Bel has awakened her powers?”

“That’s a question I can’t answer.” Dayne spread his hands and shrugged, adopting a nonchalant posture in the face of Lady Charlotte’s skepticism. He wasn’t afraid of angering Charlotte or being mocked by her, because he was telling the truth.

Back then, Pontiff Clement himself performed the Art of True Sight to examine the root of Beldina’s illness. Yet, even His Holiness the Pontiff could not detect Bel’s status as a wizard, to say nothing of a mere fifth-rank priest like himself.

Dayne believed My lord Miller, the Attendant of Radiance, had made some kind of arrangement for Bel to conceal her wizard identity. He also believed that the exceptionally wise His Highness Randall must be aware of Bel’s special nature, whether My lord Miller had told him or he had figured it out himself.

Sure enough, just as Charlotte’s eyebrows were about to arch, Victor took her slender, soft jade hand and asked, “When was the most recent theft?”

Charlotte gave her beloved Master a faint smile and replied, “The day before yesterday, in the afternoon. A guard reported two dried prairie grouse missing. Aka was the first to go look, but unfortunately, he hasn’t found them yet.”

Victor raised his long fingers to rub the space between his brows and sighed, “Is this the work of an invader or a ‘thief from within’? This matter has to be investigated… Dayne, do you have any good ideas?”

Dayne thought for a moment and offered, “I think we can have someone keep a close eye on Bel. Also, perhaps Your Highness and the four ladies could search outside the camp. If it was an invader, they only stole the dried grouse the day before yesterday. They shouldn’t have gotten far.”

Victor immediately stood up and nodded. “Good. There’s no time to lose. I’ll take the Dragonkin handmaidens and search outside to see if we can catch this thief, but Laila will stay behind… Dayne, you’ll be in charge of the investigation here in the camp.”

Soon, Victor left the camp with three Dragonkin handmaidens, searching in different directions for any clues the invader might have left behind. Following Victor’s instructions, Dayne took Beldina to the carriage-house, leaving her in the care of Charlotte and Laila. Then, he began to wander around the camp. As if by chance, he arrived outside Imosen’s tent.

Philip II, Philip III, and a group of Razorbeasts were lying dormant on the grass around the tent. The two Aberrant Beasts were like two small hills, exuding a powerful sense of pressure even while lying still. Dayne couldn’t help but slow his pace, carefully weaving through the gaps between the beasts to approach the tent. He called out softly, “Imosen, Imosen, are you there?”

The wizard of House Randell ducked out of the tent, followed by two beautiful sword-wielding handmaidens with slender waists and long legs. Upon seeing the expedition’s priest, he greeted him warmly, “Dayne, you’re here… Um, Bel, how is she?”

Dayne glanced at him and joked, “To think a fellow like you could have such a cute daughter.”

Imosen rubbed his hands together and said with some pride, “Master never brings up my father-daughter relationship with Bel, so it’s not proper for me to go around announcing that Bel’s my daughter. After all, wizards don’t have the best reputation, and I’m afraid of dragging her down.”

“Alright, alright, I know you and your daughter had a hard life before… I just came to ask if you’ve lost anything over here,” Dayne asked with a chuckle.

“We haven’t lost anything, have we?” Imosen turned and asked his sword-wielding handmaidens. After receiving their affirmative nods, he said to Dayne, “We haven’t lost anything… What? They still haven’t caught that thief?”

Dayne nodded, his expression heavy. He clapped the wizard on the shoulder and said, “His Highness Randall has gone out to look. Hopefully, he can track down the invader… Until we have a result, don’t practice the Poltanos Secret Art, to prevent any accidents… Bel has been moved to His Highness’s carriage-house. Lady Charlotte and Lady Laila are looking after her, and the big simpleton is sleeping outside the carriage-house, so you don’t need to worry about her safety.”

“…That’s good.” Imosen heaved a sigh of relief, then shook his head with a wry smile. “As if I’d dare practice the secret art His Highness taught us. Lisa, Anwen, and I are all sleeping in shifts now… This thief is so elusive, it’s making everyone nervous. Esteemed Father, do you think a ghost is really responsible for all this?”

Dayne remained silent. The color drained from Imosen’s face, and his lips trembled as he said, “Is there really a ghost in the camp?”

He possessed extraordinary power, but like most ordinary people, he had an innate fear of the undead.

Dayne coughed once and said, “The possibility of a ghost is small… but not nonexistent. I’d like to ask you for a favor.”

Imosen’s eyes lit up, his spirits lifting. “Your Excellency, if there’s anything you need my help with, just say the word. It would be my honor to help a servant of the Supreme Lord dispel evil!”

Dayne smiled and nodded. “When Bel came back, didn’t she catch an old fox? Is it still alive?”

“It’s behind the tent. I’ve been taking good care of it!”

The two men walked around to the back of the tent, the sword-wielding handmaidens following like shadows. Dayne paid them no mind; all his attention was focused on a prairie fox with dark red fur and a circle of white fur around its snout.

Upon seeing Imosen, the old fox lowered its head and flattened its ears, sidling up to him with great affection and submission.

Imosen nudged the fawning prairie fox away with his foot and asked, both nervous and excited, “Father Dayne, can this old fox catch a ghost?”

Dayne’s gaze became deep and inscrutable, a faint smile playing on his lips. He said lightly, “This is my first time using an exorcism rite. If there really is a ghost in the camp, we have to find it first… By the way, don’t spread this around. Once I actually find the undead, I will spare no expense to drive it out!”

A look of deep respect appeared on Imosen’s face. He made three points from his chest to his forehead. “May the Supreme Lord of Radiance illuminate our path and dispel all darkness and impurity.”

Dayne clutched the Holy Crystal in his pocket and prayed silently in his heart, “May our Lord protect me and grant me authority; may the fortunate foe be met with misfortune! May our Lord protect me and grant me a sharp sword; may the dangers on the path ahead be slain!”

Chapter 771: Capturing the Thieves

The surging wind carried the unique fragrance of the great plains in high summer—a captivating scent woven from blades of grass, wildflowers, dew, and soil, all blended together by the sun. It held an air of natural vastness, as if it could carry one’s thoughts to distant horizons.

Victor lay flat on his back beneath a low oak tree whose dense, leafy canopy spread out like a giant umbrella, blocking the scorching sun and casting a patch of cool shade. The wild grass had grown to the height of an adult’s knee, and lying in it felt like sinking into a soft, great bed, completely concealed by the surrounding foliage. It was the perfect spot for a lazy afternoon.

The blue-haired Dragonkin handmaiden, Mewen, squinted her eyes like a docile kitten, curled up in Victor’s arms. Her body was light and soft, emanating an indescribably wonderful scent. Victor’s left hand was tucked behind his head, while his right arm was wrapped around Mewen’s long, fair neck, toying with her pure white, crystalline dragon horns.

In many ways, the Dragonkin handmaiden Mewen was just like Countess Andria Wimbledon. They shared the same ethereal temperament, delicate features, and a stunning beauty that took one’s breath away. They also shared the same bad temper—arrogant, willful, and unsociable, preferring to be alone. And they both possessed a strong sense of curiosity. In short, she was even more difficult to get along with than the fiery Alexia, yet in Victor’s presence, she became gentle and submissive, obedient to his every whim, as if she had two different faces.

Victor had just spent two days and a night in deep meditation, visualizing the Poltanos Secret Art to sate the mythical three-headed lizard. He had barely awoken from his profound dormancy when Mewen had snuggled up to him. All the while, Dili and Fugerui were still standing guard on the perimeter.

He held the blue-haired, blue-eyed Mewen in his arms, but his thoughts were of Andria.

If it had been the Countess of Wimbledon, she would likely seize any opportunity to cling to him just as Mewen did now. The Dragonkin handmaiden was bound to Victor by a soul contract, and Mewen’s situation was even more unique than the others; she had received a greater share of the authority over the Law of the Wind Element from Victor, making her particularly infatuated with her master’s aura. Andria Wimbledon, on the other hand, shared the same bloodline as Victor. Though she was a Gale Knight with a strong sense of independence, she also dearly loved being close to Victor, sometimes even subconsciously displaying a submissive nature.

But in the end, Andria had not abandoned her Wimbledon estate for Victor.

Neither the authority of the Son of the Wind’s Law nor a love born from the attraction of their shared bloodline was enough to sway the will of the high-ranking female knight.

The question was, how would the High Elves react upon meeting Victor?

During the Era of the Chosen, the Elven royal family had arranged marriage alliances with knightly houses, hoping to use the Gold Knights’ special connection to the Elemental Sea to give birth to a Sun Elf. If so, did the Elven royal family possess methods to restrain a Sun Elf?

The answer was obvious. A legendary powerhouse of the Elves would have to maintain their own sense of self even when facing a Sun Elf; otherwise, they could not be called legendary.

What Victor was truly thinking was: did the Elven royal family have a special method to “capture” him?

If the Elven royalty could artificially awaken the ancient will in his bloodline, Victor felt he ought to keep his distance from the Elves for now. Only after the dual Bloodline Talent Trees achieved a state of balance could he cease to worry.

The rustling sound of footsteps approached, growing louder. The Dragonkin handmaidens Dili and Fugerui had sensed their master was awake and hurried over. When they saw Mewen, her delicate, jade-like feet bare, lying in Victor’s arms, they exchanged a glance. They, too, prepared to slip off their tall war boots to claim the spot on Victor’s left shoulder.

In truth, Victor was considering whether or not to expose Father Dayne’s little scheme. From a rational standpoint, he should avoid it, as the thief in the camp was very likely connected to the Elves. But at the same time, he was filled with curiosity about that thief—and about the Elves.

Dili and Fugerui’s squabbling for his affection immediately gave Victor a reason to return to camp and keep an eye on Dayne.

I only have two arms, and all three of them want me to hold them. I can’t play favorites and watch them argue, can I? Better to head back to camp… Victor sprang up from the grass with Mewen still in his arms and said, “We’ve been out for two days. It’s time to go back.”

Dili’s disappointment was written all over her face. She pouted and said, “Master is playing favorites. We just got here, and now you want to leave.”

Fugerui blinked her eyes and said in a sweet voice, “King, you’ve been in dormancy for two days. We haven’t even started searching for the thief yet.”

Mewen nodded as well. “King, can we go catch the thief now?”

Victor gazed in the direction of the camp and smiled. “The thief has been in the camp the whole time… Dayne is about to make his move. I’d like to see how he manages to flush out an invisible thief.”

For the past two days, Father Dayne had been leading a white-muzzled old fox on patrols around the camp. Although he vehemently denied searching for a ghost, word that the priest was using an old fox to hunt spirits had already spread throughout the entire encampment.

The knights of House of Randell and the Ferocious Warriors merely assumed that Dayne, from his position as a clergyman, was deliberately downplaying the existence of the undead. After all, fear of the unknown undead could lead the ignorant to embrace heretical beliefs. In the history of the human kingdoms, there had been邪教 that worshiped the undead. Though the Radiant Church had stamped them out with lightning speed, the clergy of the Lord of Radiance had since become exceptionally wary of rumors concerning the undead. The priests maintained a unified front, only publicizing the origins and weaknesses of the undead to their followers, and they disliked the faithful openly discussing or spreading stories of supernatural events involving them.

Unfortunately, terrifying tales of ghosts and ghouls had always found a ready market in both the upper and lower echelons of human society. Aside from Extraordinary Knights who had a deep understanding of the workings of the elements, it was difficult for anyone else, no matter how a priest explained it, to grasp the simple principle that the undead could not long endure due to a lack of the water element.

Of course, as long as the populace did not let their fear turn into superstition, the Church’s propaganda had served its purpose.

For instance, both Narsen and Charlotte had heard plenty of ghost stories, but they weren’t particularly afraid of the undead. They were actually quite excited about Father Dayne hunting a ghost on his own. Narsen had even trotted over to Dayne, offering to help, only to be chased away with a stern scolding from the priest.

Professional matters were best left to professionals. To cooperate with Dayne’s search for the ghost in the camp, the members of the House of Randell kept their distance, just as the priest had requested.

The alchemical creatures, however, lacked the curiosity of the knights and Ferocious Warriors. They went about their daily business as usual.

This evening, two Source-blood militia were on their regular patrol inside the camp, a Bear-Dog at their side. As they passed a pile of crates, a small figure darted out from a corner and silently trailed behind the Source-blood Warriors. The fierce and keen-sensed Bear-Dog was somehow completely oblivious to the stranger.

The figure remained constantly within the shadow of the Source-blood militia, as if it had merged with the darkness. It moved without a sound, and none of the people or animals they passed along the way noticed the extra little person in the patrol group. The strangest thing was that while the patrol guards left footprints on the grass, the blades of grass the little person stepped on immediately sprang back to their original state, leaving no trace of being trodden upon.

“All who pass leave a trace”—this principle seemed not to apply to the little person. It was like a true specter, strolling brazenly through the camp, yet no person or war beast could perceive it.

However, as the patrol neared a certain tent, the little person was suddenly hit by a pungent, foul odor and couldn’t help but let out a loud sneeze. The Source-blood Warriors and the Bear-Dog whirled around, only to see a shadow flicker into a patch of grass and vanish without a trace.

The camp erupted as if a pot had boiled over. The heavy thud of footsteps converged on the spot. Caligula was the first to arrive, letting out a bellow. He scanned the area with his wide, bull-like eyes before dropping to the ground, his rear in the air, sniffing for a scent alongside the Warhounds and Bear-Dogs.

“I know, it’s in the tent!” Aka roared. At his cry, Narsen and several others charged into the oilcloth tent, rummaging through everything. In the end, they dismantled the entire tent but still found no sign of the invader.

Everyone was inexplicably excited, chattering amongst themselves. The patrol guards and Aka were questioned again and again, but none of them could clearly describe what they had seen.

Commander Narsen hollered at Father Dayne, who had just finished his own questioning, “Esteemed Father, there really is a ghost! How are you going to catch it? We can help.”

“…Why is everyone so happy? Is this fun?” Dayne’s face was grim. He rebuked the crowd, who were enjoying the spectacle far too much. “Disperse, all of you! Even if there was a ghost, you’d have scared it to death. How am I supposed to catch it now?”

“Let the fox out?” Narsen suggested cheekily.

“Alright, everyone head back. Don’t crowd around here. Keep an eye on the camp supplies and be careful not to be tricked by the invader,” Charlotte called out, ushering the crowd away. Once the onlookers had dispersed, she curtsied to the priest and asked in a gentle voice, “Your Excellency Dayne, what do you think we should do now?”

Dayne’s expression softened slightly. He waved a hand and said, “There’s no need to do anything. If it was a ghost, it should have already faded away by now. If it was an invader, it wouldn’t dare remain in the camp… In any case, there will be no more thefts.”

“Ah? Is it that simple?” Charlotte was greatly disappointed, then immediately covered her mouth and giggled in embarrassment. “My apologies, that was rude of me.”

To show such keen interest in ghosts and spirits in front of a priest of the Church was clearly impolite. Dayne was silent for a moment before saying, “I initially thought the thefts were caused by Bel awakening her Mind Body Wizardry talent, but now it seems that is not the case… If the thief truly is a ghost, then exorcising the dead is my responsibility. I hope no one will interfere. My Lady, I hope you can understand my insistence. Please ask everyone not to make a fuss. I will handle it.”

Charlotte smiled faintly and curtsied to Dayne once more to express her apology.

No one should ever offend a priest, especially not an expeditionary force on an exploratory mission in the wilderness. Father Dayne, with his command of divine arts, could save many lives. The Randell Expeditionary Force’s previous battle with the Half-dragons had already proven this point conclusively.

The concubine knight departed gracefully. Father Dayne tightened his grip on the rope leashed to the white-muzzled old fox, tugging it along to search the surrounding area before turning to leave the scene.

The commotion caused by the thief gradually subsided, and the camp returned to its normal routine. No one noticed that hiding beneath a carriage at the edge of the camp was the very instigator of the recent thefts.

It lay flat in the tall grass under the carriage, the shadow of the vehicle and the dense foliage providing perfect cover. It muttered in a tiny voice, “Stinky old fox, disgusting old fox, damn old fox… Bobo must leave, leave right now… If Tiantian dares to laugh at Bobo, he can find Lord Barrel’s compass himself.”

After confirming that there was no danger nearby—and most importantly, no sign of that smelly old fox—the little person crawled out from under the carriage. Using the cover of grass and shadow, it stealthily slipped out of the camp.

It made a wide detour, arriving at a patch of reeds by the riverbank, and called out in a thin, reedy voice, “Tiantian, Tiantian, I’m back.”

The dense riverside reeds swayed gently, as if brushed by an evening breeze. Another little person poked its head out from the reeds and said with displeasure, “Bobo, it’s not time to switch shifts yet. I’m willing to bet you some delicious and sweet Purple Sugar that you definitely didn’t get Lord Barrel’s compass back from the thief… Bobo slacked off.”

“Bobo did not slack off…”

“You did too… I bet you did, and I won, so all the Purple Sugar is Tiantian’s.”

“Damn it, I ran into that old fox from the camp! Don’t you believe me?”

“Ugh, I believe you… Bobo, you’d better not move. It’s to your left.”

The little person named Bobo stiffly turned its head and saw the old fox standing on the downwind side of the reeds. Its green eyes were locked onto him, its toothless mouth dripping with saliva.

Bobo was so scared it didn’t dare to move an inch. It said anxiously, “Tiantian, quick, think of something! I’m going to die from its stench.”

“Nonsense, I can’t smell anything foul.”

“…You’re on the downwind side.”

“You’re on the downwind side too.”

“Just looking at it makes me feel sick!” Bobo finally yelled in exasperation.

“Alright, you’re right. So if we just don’t look at it, we’ll be fine.”

“You idiot, it’s going to bite me! Hurry up and kill it.”

“I’m not doing it, I’ll stink for years. You kill it,” Tiantian said, shaking its head vehemently.

“Not for years, just a few days… A month at most, no more, I promise you.”

“Is that so? Then Bobo kills it, and Tiantian will sing for you.”

The two little people were so engrossed in their bickering they failed to notice Father Dayne silently approaching. A platinum-gold sheen glowed in the eyes of the Lord of Radiance’s servant—the external manifestation of the Divine Art of the Fire of the Mind. At this moment, Dayne was as powerful as a senior knight. He swiftly raised two hand crossbows, aimed them at the two little people, and pulled the triggers without the slightest hesitation.

The cone-tipped crossbow bolts, forged from refined iron, shot forward like two streaks of blue light, aimed at the little people’s heads. Suddenly, the air swirled into a spiral, catching the fletching of the bolts and sending them arcing upwards in two bent trajectories.

The two little people finally realized their peril and shrieked as they leaped into the reeds. The long reeds swayed as if in the wind, showing no sign of being parted by anyone moving through them. Dayne immediately dropped the two hand crossbows and, while drawing the mace hanging from his belt, lunged forward like a bolt of lightning. He parted the reeds, but the two little people had vanished again, leaving only some of the stolen tools scattered within.

“Don’t waste your energy… For these two Halflings to hide in the camp for so many days without being discovered, even I couldn’t find their hiding place. It shows they are high-ranking Halfling adventurers. They’ve now blended into the environment; you won’t find them anytime soon.”

A light, pleasant voice drifted over on the wind. Dayne turned his head and saw Victor’s tall, slender figure standing not far away. He put away his mace with a wry smile and said dryly, “Your Highness… what a coincidence.”

“A coincidence? Dayne, do you think my appearance here is a coincidence?” Victor’s smile was elegant and charming, the dark gold of his eyes deep and profound. He sighed, “Mortals always attribute the unexpected, things beyond their control, to coincidence. Little do they know that behind a coincidence may lie a result guided by the powerful. Miller once described the powerful this way… The future is a chaos woven from countless possibilities, and a true powerhouse always shapes that chaotic future into the reality he desires.”

Dayne stood stunned for a long moment, then murmured, “Is… is this the true essence of the Great Divination?”

“Anyone can be a prophet.” Victor walked over unhurriedly and said to Dayne, “The First Sacred Warrior, Tournans, once said, ‘Wishes are realized through action, not fantasy.’ It’s like if you want to grow vegetables on the great plains, what do you do? You gather soil and fertilizer to build up a garden bed; you dig a channel from the river to bring water to the garden; you find suitable vegetable seeds, and then you tend to it carefully every day. A few months later, you have vegetables.”

Dayne scratched his head, his expression perplexed. “It seems so, but it feels too simple.”

“Different levels of authority mean different ways of realizing a prophecy. If I want a vegetable garden, I need only command my retinue, and they will naturally provide me with one. You, on the other hand, would have to do it yourself.” Victor smiled. “You wanted to find the Halflings and quietly eliminate them, but I wanted to capture them alive… The result is obvious.”

With a great rustling sound, a large patch of reeds by the riverbank fell flat. The Dragonkin handmaiden Mewen leaped out, a little person dangling from each hand, and turned to run back toward the camp.

Victor nodded in satisfaction and continued speaking to Dayne, “I must praise you for a job well done… First, you denied the existence of a ghost in the camp, shifting the blame onto Bel. Then you suggested I go out to track a possible invader. And then you cleverly created an atmosphere that made Narsen and the others mistakenly believe that while you denied it aloud, you were secretly hunting a ghost.”

Dayne hung his head in dejection. “I knew I couldn’t deceive Your Highness, which is why when I said there was no ghost in the camp, it was the truth. And when I said this matter was related to Bel, that was also the truth…”

“The truth can also be used to deceive,” Victor said, looking at Dayne with amusement. He retorted, “What made you think I would actually fall for it? Narsen and Charlotte are fools. You already said it yourself that a ghost doesn’t need to steal food. So, why were there no droppings from the thief outside the camp? There is only one possibility: their waste was mixed in the latrine pits with that of the camp guards. They were hiding in the camp the whole time, not outside.”

Dayne was dumbstruck. After a long pause, he said with a bitter smile, “Your Highness, you already know everything. You should be able to understand my difficult position.”

Victor looked toward the reeds and low oak trees by the river. He nodded. “This prairie has many low oaks, but the Warton Great Plains of the Sasan Empire have no such trees. That’s because the wild red bulls on the Worton Plains can push over trees and eat all the leaves and tender branches. But this prairie has no large herbivores like the wild red bull, nor do we see any Goblin clans. The Gnolls are just small bands of roving bandits who primarily hunt the agile, tricolored short-horned antelope and wild boar.”

“This means that this prairie is a battlefield—a battlefield between the Forest Centaurs and the Ant-man monsters. They fight here every decade or so, and large wild bison and settled Goblin clans cannot survive. However, the Forest Centaurs’ homeland is to the east of the Lizard Marsh, over a thousand kilometers away. How do the Forest Centaurs know when the Ant-man monsters are about to enter the prairie battlefield?”

“Elven scouts are tipping off the Forest Centaurs. That’s the most likely possibility, as this prairie borders the Endless Forest. You suspected the Halflings in the camp were Elven scouts?”

Dayne bowed deeply and said with sincerity, “Your Highness possesses extraordinary wisdom. You are absolutely correct. I only recently made the connection to Halfling scouts. I originally intended to eliminate them quietly, but then Your Highness returned… Regardless, I implore Your Highness not to make contact with the Elves. If you were to join forces with them, Her Majesty the Queen of Roses would certainly not spare My lord Miller. It would lead to catastrophic consequences.”

Victor was silent for a moment. The corners of his mouth curved into a smile, his tone light but laced with a chilling coldness. “Dayne, you must remember one thing. This is the one and only time you will act on your own initiative. If there is a next time… I will leave you on the road.”

Chapter 772: Secret History

His Highness Randell was a man of his word. His threat to abandon Dayne on the road was no empty intimidation. If that happened, Dayne didn’t believe he could make it back to the light-blessed human kingdoms alive.

Faced with His Highness Randell’s stern warning, Dayne nodded and bowed, saying with a placating smile: “Your Highness, you are right. According to the conventions of wilderness exploration, there can only be one leader in the party. My unauthorized actions could have endangered the team, and you have every right to exile me… I promise you, I will never act on my own accord again! But I believe it’s necessary to explain to Lord Narsen and the others the special significance the Elves hold for the House of Randell.”

The core members of the Randell Expeditionary Force were utterly obedient to their liege lord. However, if they were to learn that the Elves would stop at nothing to lure away their master, they would likely join Father Dayn in desperately pleading with Victor to avoid any contact with the Elves.

Dayne was using a roundabout method to show Victor that his unauthorized actions were born of good intentions. At the very least, his quiet disposal of the Halfling scouts was beneficial to maintaining unity between Victor and his followers. If he had shared his concerns with Narsen and the others beforehand, they would have surely supported his view, thus creating a rift with Victor.

As an “outsider,” Dayne had volunteered to be the scapegoat, to do the dirty work, hoping to quietly sever the potential connection between His Highness Randell and the Elves. But now, facing the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s questioning, his posture and tone were humble and respectful, his gaze shifting uncertainly. Yet Victor could see an unshakable will in his eyes—the priest realized his own abilities were insufficient to control the potential danger, and his standing with His Highness Randell wasn’t enough to offer counsel. So, he planned to unite the members of the House of Randell to do everything in their power to prevent His Highness from making contact with the Elves.

He wasn’t just saying he would inform Narsen of the whole story; he truly intended to do so, even at the cost of being exiled.

Dayne had given Victor the impression of being slick and ambitious, more like a court minister than a priest, but his do-or-die attitude changed Victor’s opinion of him. Victor couldn’t help but be reminded of the former Grand Vizier of Aerie Fortress, the old Marquess Bastern. That powerful old noble had once defied Sylvia’s pressure, paying with his life. Bastern had acted to protect the interests of Aerie Fortress; Dayne was acting to protect the interests of the Church.

People with conviction were truly difficult to deal with… Victor thought with a private, wry smile. He also disliked the trouble the Elves might bring him, but there was no need to explain that to Dayne. He only asked, “Why didn’t you tell Narsen and the others before?”

The priest bowed slightly and explained sincerely, “Frankly, I didn’t know their views on the Elves. I was worried that Your Highness’s followers would tell you about my plan to eliminate the Halfling scouts—after all, Lord Narsen and My Lady Charlotte are unfailingly loyal to you. If Your Highness were lured away by the Elves to become the Elf Emperor, you would surely take them with you. In the end, they are not High-ranked Knights with firm resolve. If Lady Trisley were in this party, I would have certainly consulted with her.”

“Of course,” he added, “Your Highness’s perception is like a torch; my petty scheme is nothing in your eyes. Since you’ve seen through my attempt, I can now only hope that Lord Narsen and My Lady Charlotte will consider the bigger picture and do their best to persuade Your Highness.”

“Do as you wish, as long as you don’t try to deceive me again.” Victor nodded, then glanced at the prairie fox that was running back to camp and asked curiously, “By the way, how did you know a fox could find the Halfling thieves?”

Seeing His Highness Randell’s friendly attitude, Dayne finally breathed a sigh of relief. He took two steps forward and explained with a smile, “Your Highness, this is a secret from over forty years ago. As you know, Halflings are accustomed to living as dependents of humans, Barbarians, and Elves. Because of the Blood Sacrifice War started by the ancient Wizards, the Halflings living in human city-states were either all killed by the Wizards or fled. To this day, Halflings are almost never seen in the kingdoms, but they’re not completely gone… The great lords of the Kingdom of Borea often dispatch elite knight squads to sneak into the Gogen Barbarian territory on the Southern Continent to perform reconnaissance, sabotage, and capture Barbarians, as well as rescue human captives. They not only capture Barbarians but have also caught a small number of Halflings.”

“Halflings have a lovable appearance, are good at singing and dancing, and are skilled at cooking and handicrafts, which makes them particularly endearing. Borean lords would keep Halflings in their homes as chamberlains, but few knew that Halflings are masters of thievery.”

In an effort to mend his relationship with His Highness Randell, Dayne spoke effusively, “Over forty years ago, the family of Duke Gremoke of the Kingdom of Borea lost a wondrous object passed down from the Era of the Chosen. The Gold Knight Guardian of the Gremoke family declared to the Church that the Peter family had sent a Halfling thief to steal their ancient wondrous object.”

Hearing this, Victor’s heart skipped a beat. He pressed, “Gremoke… isn’t that the family the Gold Knight Andre Cristel comes from? What ancient wondrous object did they lose that they would accuse the Peter family of sending a Halfling to steal it before the Church?”

Dayne paused, then shook his head. “As far as I know, the wondrous object the Gremoke family lost was a Mithril wine cup made by an ancient Wizard. There are rumors that the wondrous cup could help the Knights of House Gremoke advance to the Gold rank, but the Gremoke family has never admitted it. However, since this family with an ancient name was promoted to a Grand Dukedom of the Kingdom of Borea, almost every generation’s Family Guardian has been a Gold Knight. There have even been two Gold Knights at the same time. For instance, Andre and his older brother both advanced to the Gold rank one after the other.”

“A Mithril wine cup?” Victor frowned thoughtfully. His interest in ancient wondrous objects was mainly limited to Elemental Rune Crystals.

“Yes, I overheard His Holiness the Pontiff and my Tutor Pello discussing it, and that’s what they said.” Dayne nodded and continued, “The Gremoke family went to negotiate with the previous generation’s Duke Peter, but the Peter family refused to admit to any theft. When negotiations failed, the Grand Duke Gremoke had no choice but to ask the Holy See to mediate. But the Peter family still wouldn’t admit they stole the wondrous cup. So the Guardian of the Gremoke family, in front of an Archbishop of the Curia and an Inquisitor, used more than a dozen old foxes to force out the Peter family’s Halfling thief….”

“The Halfling thief confessed that he had stolen the wondrous cup from the Gremoke home under the orders of Alonso Peter. With both a witness and material evidence, the truth was finally revealed.”

Dayne said, quite pleased with himself, “I only knew about this because I’d heard the secret story. It just so happened that Imosen kept a prairie fox, and his tent was never touched by the thieves. So I thought I’d try and see if an old fox could flush out the Halfling thief in our camp. I never expected it to actually work.”

“So that’s how it was… Let’s go, back to camp.” Victor nodded and, as they walked, asked casually, “I heard that Alonso Peter was the older brother of the current Grand Duke Peter. He later went missing during a raid on the Gogen Barbarians, and his fiancée, Miss Elijia Wimbledon, then married Duke Peter?”

Father Dayn, walking half a step behind Victor, picked up the thread, “Alonso’s disappearance, the Halfling theft, and Elijia are all connected… Your Highness, you may not know this, but Alonso and the Grand Duke Peter are, in fact, brothers with different fathers and mothers. Alonso was the eldest son of the old Duke Peter and the Duchess, while the current Grand Duke Peter is the child of a Gold Knight from the Gremoke family and Alonso’s aunt—that is, the old Duke Peter’s youngest sister. Alonso’s aunt gave birth to the Gold Knight’s descendant while she was still a female knight-in-training, which severed her Knight’s Path, and she died very young. The old Duke Peter raised his sister’s and the Gremoke’s child as the family’s second son.”

“In reality, Alonso and the current Duke Peter are cousins, but the purity of their knight’s bloodlines was completely different. Alonso Peter only advanced to an initial-rank Knight at the age of twenty-two, while Duke Peter, who was half a year younger, was already a senior knight, on the verge of advancing to Silver Knight at any moment.”

“I imagine Alonso was under immense pressure at the time. To make matters worse, his stunningly beautiful fiancée, Miss Elijia Wimbledon, seemed to favor his cousin, treating Alonso with indifference. That’s why Alonso, keeping it from the old Duke, had his Halfling attendant steal the Gremoke family’s wondrous wine cup, causing a huge amount of trouble. Because of this incident, Alonso was assigned by the Peter family at a young age to a knight squad to carry out an especially dangerous infiltration mission, and he subsequently went missing on the Southern Continent. His younger brother, Acrisil Peter, became the first heir of the Peter family and married the beautiful noblewoman with Moon Elf bloodline, Elijia.”

This story involved Raymond Peter, so Victor was interested in learning more of the inside details. He said, seemingly in jest, “So, Grand Duke Peter and Andre are half-brothers, sharing a father, and he has the knight’s bloodline of the Gremoke family in his veins? If that wondrous cup can increase Gremoke’s chances of advancing to Gold Knight, then I think Alonso was set up by Acrisil Peter and Elijia. Otherwise, how could the Gremoke family, after losing their wondrous cup, immediately point the finger at the Peter family? And they even knew it was the work of a Halfling thief, and then used old foxes to force him out… It’s not easy for the descendant of a Gold Knight to advance to Gold rank either. It would make sense for Acrisil Peter to have used Gremoke’s wondrous cup to advance to Gold Knight. With the Church investigating and both the thief and the loot found, the old Duke Peter couldn’t protect Alonso even if he wanted to. He had no choice but to send his eldest son, a mere Bronze Knight, on a dangerous intelligence mission. Now, a descendant with Gremoke bloodline holds the power of the Peter family. No matter how you look at it, it seems like a conspiracy.”

Dayne shrugged. “Only the people involved know the specific details. We can speculate however we want in private… However, I believe the core members of the Peter family were also complicit. After all, they needed a Gold Knight Guardian. Why else would the previous Duke Peter have sacrificed his youngest sister, if not for the Gremoke bloodline and the special effect of the wondrous cup?”

“The current Grand Duke Peter does indeed have blood ties to the Gremoke family, but he would never betray the interests of the Peter family. That is where his conviction and his destiny lie.”

Victor nodded and said, “Andre also came from House Gremoke. He married the eldest daughter of the Cristel family, one of the Five Great Families of Borea, and became the Cristel family’s Guardian… It seems the Gremoke family’s bloodline has always been the thread that holds the core layer of the Kingdom of Borea together.”

Dayne said, “The Gremokes may not have been willing. If the rumors about the wondrous cup are true, the great lords of Borea naturally wouldn’t let the Gremoke family monopolize its extraordinary effects. Bloodline exchange was likely a way to resolve the internal conflicts among Borea’s great lords.”

Victor suddenly stopped walking and said slowly, “Ever since the founding of the Borrey United Kingdom, the people of Sus have been constantly infiltrating Borea. The Borean lords commonly have marriage alliances with the nobility of Sus, and the Five Great Ruling Families in particular maintain marriage ties with the Sus Royal Family. However, the Kingdom of Borea has always managed to maintain its independence and has not been carved up and annexed by the people of Sus. From this, we can see that the influence of the Sus Royal Family has not penetrated the power core of the Five Great Families of Borea.”

Dayne followed behind Victor and said fawningly, “Your Highness is wise… Alonso Peter’s mother was a noblewoman from the Eleanoro royal family, while his brother, Duke Acrisil Peter, has no direct ties to the Sus Royal Family. Now, with Alonso missing in the Southern Continent, Duke Acrisil Peter has become the ruling king of the Borrey United Kingdom. The Kingdom of Borea he leads treats the people of Sus as traditional allies, but also as rivals. This foreign policy of the Boreans has never changed.”

Victor hadn’t expected the predator-prey relationship between old foxes and Halflings to be tied to such a secret history of the Kingdom of Borea. The so-called wondrous cup might be a groundless rumor, but it was also a fact that the ducal families of the Five Great Families of Borea often produced Gold Knights. This must have some extraordinary connection to the Gremoke family. The unfortunate Alonso Peter was actually a victim of the endless scheming between the lords of Borea and Sus. Who could he blame but his mother for being a noblewoman from Sus?

On that point alone, the great lords of Borea could never have allowed Alonso to inherit the Peter family, which was on the cusp of becoming a ruling family.

And Raymond Peter’s father, Andre’s half-brother, Grand Duke Peter, was the obvious choice to represent the Borrey United Kingdom because he possessed the Gremoke family’s bloodline.

Victor wasn’t interested in the grudges and passions of the Peter family, much less in fighting for justice for the missing Alonso Peter. He was only keenly interested in the Kingdom of Borea’s access to the sea. For the Centaur Hills’ fleet to enter the ocean through Borean-controlled waters, the Borean lords would have to compromise. Unfortunately, Victor had no time to go looking for trouble with Duke Peter right now. He smiled at Dayne and said, “I won’t hold your unauthorized actions against you this time. I might as well tell you, I never intended to personally make contact with the Elves… So, just consider this a favor you owe me. In the future, you’ll have to help me with something.”

Dayne was stunned for a moment, then asked in confusion, “I wonder what kind of help Your Highness requires of me?”

Victor’s eyes turned cold as he said flatly, “The two brothers, Andre and Duke Peter, once plotted against my beloved wife, Sophia. They even tried to take her from me and force her to stay in the Kingdom of Borea… Once I’ve dealt with the Ant-man monsters, I will settle this old score with Grand Duke Peter.”

Dayne was dumbfounded and stammered, “Your Highness, how could I possibly have the qualification to interfere in such matters?”

Victor clapped Dayne on the shoulder and laughed. “After we get back, will you still be afraid you lack the qualification? I can tell you, it’s no simple coincidence that two Halfling scouts met us on the Great Plains. If I’m not mistaken, it was Bel who led them here… As for Bel, why do you think Your Excellency Miller dotes on her so, and why do you think I brought her along with me?”

“Come on, let’s go to the camp and see those two mischievous Halflings first.”

Chapter 773: Legendary-Rank Adventurers

From a distance, Victor could hear peals of laughter from the camp. On the grass next to the carriage, Narsen, Charlotte, and the others were gathered around, watching with amusement as two Halflings performed a song and dance.

They stood less than a meter tall, yet their proportions were quite symmetrical. With round heads and chubby faces like seven or eight-year-old children, fleshy noses, and large, pure eyes, they looked both adorable and spirited. Each holding one of Beldina’s arms, they hopped and skipped before the bonfire, their singing and dancing particularly endearing.

The Halflings’ singing was clear and cheerful. Victor didn’t find it especially melodious, but it was incredibly infectious. Even Aka was dancing with abandon behind them and Bel, a silly grin plastered on his guileless face. Victor clearly remembered Caligula vowing that if they caught the little thieves who stole the spice pouch, he would spank their bottoms soundly.

Less than half an hour had passed since the Dragonkin handmaiden Mewen had hauled the Halfling thieves back to camp, yet Aka was already having a grand time with them, so engrossed that he didn’t even notice Victor’s approach.

This was actually quite normal. The Halflings’ songs possessed a unique, extraordinary charm, capable of captivating even a nine-headed hydra slumbering at the bottom of a lake. Of course, a Halfling capable of pleasing a Hydra Lizard would have to be an extraordinary being of at least Legendary-rank. And since these two lively, adorable Halflings had managed to evade the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s Perception, they were surely Legendary-rank Halfling adventurers as well.

However, a Legendary Halfling could not be compared to a legendary human powerhouse. They belonged to different domains, like the difference between a hamster and a wildcat. Each had its own way of survival, and a direct comparison of their combat strength was too superficial; it was truly difficult to say who was stronger or weaker.

Analyzing from their physique alone, the Spirit attribute standard for a Legendary Halfling adventurer was far lower than that of a human, meaning their numbers were not exceptionally rare. The two little fellows before him were undoubtedly among the best of the Halflings. They performed with all their might, trying to win the goodwill of the onlookers. Dispelling hostility was their innate talent, so it was no wonder Narsen and the others were watching with such relish.

The Dragonkin handmaiden Laila was the first to spot Victor standing outside the crowd. She ran over with her three sisters, hugging his arm and wheedling, “My King, these two little fellas are so amusing. Can you take them in as servants?”

Victor smiled faintly, put an arm around Laila’s supple, slender waist, and led the four Dragonkin handmaidens to quietly climb onto the roof of the carriage, watching the Halflings’ performance from a commanding vantage point.

He observed with a rational mind and found that the Halflings’ joyful mood had almost zero effect on the alchemical creatures; the Alchemical humans and Alchemical Warhounds simply ignored them. The Dragonkin handmaidens, who possessed the characteristics of natural life and had their own emotions of joy and sorrow, were less affected. They preferred to stay by the “Dragon King’s” side. Next were the family knights of House of Randell. Both Charlotte and Klaus noticed their master on the roof of the carriage, but seeing that Victor was observing in secret, they did not disturb him. Then came the Ferocious warriors. Although Narsen was laughing and joking with his companions, he maintained a considerable degree of vigilance, though his focus was primarily on the area outside the camp. The rigorously trained sword-wielding handmaidens seemed more absorbed, but their subtle changes in expression and minute movements betrayed a certain coldness. At the very least, the perfectly appropriate smiles on their faces were like exquisite, beautiful masks, devoid of any heartfelt joy. They were, after all, secret art death commandos raised by the family, their emotions far more muted than those of ordinary people. The most content, without a doubt, were Beldina and Aka. The two carefree souls amplified the Halflings’ infectiousness. Beldina, in particular, gradually became the star of the joyful party. Watching her hop and skip about, even Victor felt a sense of delight.

Beldina’s adorableness far surpassed that of the Halflings. The two little fellows’ song and dance had begun to match her rhythm. Meanwhile, the tall and brawny Caligula was simply joining in shamelessly for the fun of it. He foolishly curled himself into a large ball of flesh and rolled around on the grass, which made everyone roar with laughter.

Too much revelry can become exhausting. The Halflings regained their own tempo and concluded their performance before midnight, earning a round of applause.

Beldina reluctantly tugged at the two Halflings, who were even shorter than she was, and asked Charlotte if she could take them back to her tent to sleep, only to be flatly refused by the female knight.

Charlotte ordered Reno and Shak to put the Halflings in a cage, but Victor, from the carriage roof, instructed, “There’s no need to lock them up. Allow them to move freely about the camp. All of you, go and rest. I will question them in a few days… Bel, if you dare to cause any more trouble, I’ll be the one putting you in a cage.”

Bel blinked her large, pure eyes and looked from side to side, her chubby little face a picture of confusion. She stood stunned for several seconds before scampering away. She had figured it out—sleeping in a cage would definitely not be fun.

The crowd saluted Victor and took their leave, dispersing one by one. Charlotte tilted her beautiful face upward, saw the four Dragonkin handmaidens all crowded around Victor, and quietly puffed out her cheeks. “Your Highness,” she said, a hint of irritation in her voice, “those two Halflings seem to be able to turn invisible. Is it really all right to let them roam freely through the camp?”

The notion that Halfling thieves could turn invisible wasn’t entirely wrong.

In the records of the alchemical creatures’ Will Side, it was written that Halfling adventurers could steal treasure from a Dragon’s lair without being discovered. Since these two little ones had managed to steal from a camp guarded by Dragonoids, Victor’s first suspicion had been that they were Halfling adventurers. He hadn’t found any tracks they might have left, which led him to guess that they possessed a kind of psychic invisibility, similar to the Bear-monster Elder’s Jungle Cover, which caused opponents to subconsciously ignore their existence.

Furthermore, these two Halflings possessed a special psychic intuition that allowed them to perceive the greatest source of danger—namely, His Highness Randell. Victor’s method of Perception was unique; X-3 differentiated sources of information through comparison and filtration, thereby nullifying the effects of psychic invisibility. Back then, the Bear-monster Elder’s Jungle Cover had been ineffective against him. Therefore, the reason Victor couldn’t find the two Halfling thieves was that they hadn’t moved at all. This in turn suggested that while Victor was in the camp, the Halfling thieves’ psychic intuition had been warning them not to move or make a sound.

Now, however, his Nemesis talent had completely recorded the Halflings’ characteristics. It was impossible for them to escape from the Raging Wind Sword Saint.

“Even if they run, I can just catch them again,” Victor muttered to himself, then said with a smile, “It’s alright, they won’t run. You don’t need to prepare food or water for them, either. For the next few days, I need to observe them.”

For the next five days, The Randell Expeditionary Force went about its business as usual. As expected, the Halfling brothers, Bobo and Tiantian, made no attempt to escape. They befriended almost everyone, helping their new friends hunt and gather, cook, wash clothes, and repair tools. They would also sing, dance, and tell jokes, always managing to make the whole company roar with laughter.

Indeed, Bobo and Tiantian displayed an astonishing talent for vocal mimicry. Not only could they imitate all sorts of sounds to perfection, but they also learned the human language in just five days.

Victor suspected that Halflings possessed an innate racial talent for Comprehending Languages. But after careful observation, he discovered that the Halflings’ native tongue was Elvish, and that the phonetic characteristics of Elvish, the Common Tongue, and the Barbarian tongue all belonged to the same language family, with Elvish at its origin.

Victor had studied the tongues of the barbarians and the Barbarians, and even with his intelligence, it had taken him nearly half a year to master two new languages. Yet the Halfling brothers were speaking fluent Common Tongue in just five days. Aside from the factor of the Elvish language family, their talent for language was truly astonishing.

In any case, Victor had to admit that the two Halflings, Bobo and Tiantian, had already integrated themselves into the ranks of The Randell Expeditionary Force. His rules for observing the Halfling brothers were to not feed them and not to restrict their personal freedom. In practice, his followers adhered to these two requirements, but it did nothing to ostracize the brothers.

To give a simple example, wild boar meat was certainly not as tasty as that of a domestic pig raised by humans—otherwise, the development of human animal husbandry would be a joke. The meat of the prairie wild boar was exceptionally unpalatable; it was coarse and tough, had a very low fat content, and possessed an unpleasant gamy odor. The Halfling brothers gathered and mixed their own spices and volunteered to help cook the wild boar meat. Thanks to their deft hands, the taste of the prairie wild boar improved greatly, earning praise from everyone. They tasted the food as they cooked, which was enough to fill their own stomachs, as Halflings required very little food.

Hardworking and capable, eating very little, and able to sing, dance, and tell jokes—Halfling brothers like these were naturally well-liked.

After observing the two brothers, Bobo and Tiantian, for several consecutive days—which included using his Wind Elemental Insight on them while they slept—and combining his observations with the knowledge he already possessed, Victor began to assemble the jigsaw puzzle that was the Halfling non-human race.

Halflings, like Dwarves, barbarians, Dragonoids, and the Assyrians of the Endless Forest, were all humanoid races created by artificially adding the bloodline of an Ancient Behemoth to the foundation of primordial humans. The Halflings were clearly a sapient species created by the ancient Elves using the bloodline of the Ancient Behemoth known as the Demonic Rat.

They possessed two core traits: one, being harmless, and two, being dexterous. From these, the Halfling Bloodline talents were derived.

The ‘Integrate with Environment’ talent: Halflings were diminutive and light, having a minimal impact on their surroundings and rarely leaving obvious traces. High-rank Halfling adventurers could use the environment to conceal themselves to an incredible degree. For example, they could walk on water. Such dexterity produced even more significant effects on land. When a Halfling adventurer crept through tall grass, the rustling of the blades was almost identical to the movement caused by the wind, making their position extremely difficult for most creatures to detect.

By itself, however, this extraordinary ability was far from being truly unbelievable for a Halfling adventurer.

A Legendary Halfling awakens their Psychic Invisibility talent, which, when combined with their ability to Integrate with Environment, evolves through three stages: low, medium, and high. The low stage involves using environmental features to hide their tracks; the Halfling adventurer needs some time to familiarize themselves with and master the environment. Then they enter the medium stage, where the master of a territory will overlook the Halfling’s presence. Even if the Halfling starts stealing, the territory’s master will have difficulty noticing. Even if they do notice something is missing, they will be unconcerned and inexplicably find all sorts of reasons to explain away the theft. Next, the Halfling’s integration with the environment enters the high stage. They appear within the territory master’s line of sight and are gradually accepted by the master, becoming a part of the territory itself.

Thus, a Halfling’s integration extended even to the social environment, just as Bobo and Tiantian had earned their own place within The Randell Expeditionary Force.

The Ferocious warrior Red Wolf was a fairly skilled master thief, but his pilfering techniques were leagues behind those of the Halfling brothers.

Halfling adventurers were the best thieves, prowlers, and scouts. For some unknown reason, however, they despised the scent of old foxes, perhaps a trait related to their Demonic Rat bloodline. Whenever they came across an old fox, Bobo and Tiantian had a habit of bickering to relieve their psychological stress, and their psychic invisibility would collapse amidst their squabbling.

Furthermore, the Halfling brothers refused to kill medium-sized animals like wild boars and antelopes, but they would hunt small prey such as field mice and wild rabbits. Victor believed that Halflings could fill their stomachs by catching wild rabbits, whereas hunting a wild boar would create too much of a disturbance, which went against their instinct for concealment.

From this, it was clear that a Halfling’s psychic invisibility and integration with their environment were both founded upon the ‘harmless’ trait. If a Halfling killed a creature larger than itself, its psychic invisibility would automatically vanish and would require a period of time to recover.

A Halfling adventurer could never serve as an assassin; the very concept did not seem to exist in their minds.

Because the Halflings’ Bloodline talent was so extreme and highly specialized, Victor could find nothing in it worth emulating. His Mind Warriors could hardly be expected to abandon their strong bodies and fierce will to fight, could they?

Nevertheless, Victor did discover some interesting things about Bobo and Tiantian—they had received the training of Halfling adventurers.

Hiding from Sight: Halflings use clever footwork to circle into an enemy’s or prey’s blind spot, making it seem as if they have vanished.

Breathing Method: Halfling adventurers use a unique breathing technique to maintain their swift, light movements and reduce their consumption of stamina.

Vocal Mimicry: Halfling adventurers can imitate all sorts of natural sounds and use the features of the environment to create echoes to confuse their enemies. Bobo once hid in the grass and mimicked the grunt of a wolverine, but the sound emerged from a spot twenty meters away from him, startling a nearby prairie grouse into taking flight.

Victor was quite interested in the training methods of Halfling adventurers. He considered these skills to be very practical and thought they might be taught to human scouts. But his interest extended far beyond just these skills.

On the morning of the sixth day, Victor finally decided to summon the brothers Bobo and Tiantian to his carriage to be interrogated by him personally. Upon being notified by Charlotte, Father Dayn came running over and said that he wished to sit in as well.

By now, everyone in the camp who needed to know about the potential connection between Victor and the Elves was aware of it. Victor understood that Father Dayn and his followers were afraid he would be lured away by the Elves, which was why they wanted to keep a close eye on his communication with the Halflings.

Victor allowed Dayn and Charlotte to listen in. He had someone bring Bobo and Tiantian into the carriage, and the first words out of his mouth were a question:

“Do you… know who I am?”

Chapter 774: News of the Demons

“A Halfling’s mouth can spit gems, but first, one must learn to hear the heart’s voice.”

—Kiernok Greymouse.

Every Halfling adventurer must remember the proverb of the great Lord Kiki Greymouse. Bobo remembered, and Tiantian remembered too. Not only did they remember, but they also knew how to listen to the voices of the heart.

Right now, the Halfling brothers were sitting side by side on a long wooden bench, swinging their short, dangling legs as they carefully listened to the heart’s voice of their host.

“Do you know who I am?”

It was a simple question with an equally simple answer. All they had to do was say “yes” or “no.”

Of course, Bobo and Tiantian knew the person who had asked the question. He had black hair, dark-gold eyes, and slightly pointed ears. His features were more beautiful than the legendary Lady of the Lake; at least, none of the Elves Bobo and Tiantian knew could compare to him. He was powerful, more powerful than the Elven princesses of Silverhawk City. Perhaps only Elder Sycodis Windsong could be mentioned in the same breath. In the eyes of Bobo and Tiantian, Lord Sycodis of Silverhawk City was an invincible powerhouse. Therefore, they believed their host to be a human lord more beautiful than an Elven princess and as powerful as Lord Sycodis. His name was His Highness Victor Wimbledon Randell, and he was also the most beloved Master of Bel and the Giant, Aka.

As far as Bobo and Tiantian were concerned, this counted as knowing him. However, they could not hear the heart’s voice of Victor Wimbledon Randell.

If they couldn’t hear the heart’s voice, what came out of a Halfling’s mouth might not be a gem, but poison.

The Halfling brothers kept their mouths shut tight, afraid they might spew poison and kill themselves. They were also quite perplexed. Most of these humans had no heart’s voice, like puppets, but His Highness Randell was certainly no puppet. He was like Sycodis, so powerful that Halflings were unable to listen to their hearts.

However, Bobo and Tiantian could hear the hearts of Dayne and Charlotte. That man named Dayne, in particular—his heart was filled with malice toward Halflings, which was why Bobo and Tiantian had been avoiding him for days. Now, Dayne was right beside them, his gloomy gaze like that of an old fox. Bobo and Tiantian read his heart’s voice and, in unison, shook their heads and said, “We do not know His Highness Randell.”

As expected, upon hearing the Halfling brothers’ reply, Father Dayn and Lady Charlotte’s tense moods instantly relaxed. Lady Charlotte even flashed Bobo and Tiantian a smile, revealing her pearly white, even teeth. Her smile was beautiful.

To most Elves, the Sun Elves were likely just a legend. Halfling adventurers were not Elves, so it was perfectly normal that the two brothers, Bobo and Tiantian, did not recognize the Bloodline characteristics of His Highness Randell.

Victor smiled faintly, thinking to himself that these two little fellows were truly “perceptive.” If they had just answered, “We know His Highness Randell,” the days to come would not have been easy for them. Dayne and Charlotte might have found a way to lock them in a cage to prevent them from tipping off the Elves, lest any should come on a pilgrimage to see the legendary Sun Elf.

Charlotte rose gracefully and poured each of the Halfling brothers a cup of honey water. The honey was harvested from the wild bees of the Great Plains, mixed with river water that had been steeped overnight with a Purification Crystal to create a simple beverage. Its sweet taste was pure and natural, and it was a particular favorite of the Halfling brothers.

Bobo and Tiantian beamed, holding the large wooden cups of honey water and taking small sips. Victor rested his cheek on one hand and asked casually, “How did you find my camp?”

Bobo licked the corner of his mouth with his tongue and, mimicking the tone of Brandon and Klaus, replied in a lighthearted voice, “Your esteemed Highness, we followed Bel to find this place.”

“Bel took our treasure. It was the wayfinding staff left behind by the great adventurer of Silverhawk City, Lord Barrel. We have to get it back,” Tiantian added.

Without Victor needing to press further, the glib Halfling brothers began to recount their story, one speaking after the other:

“We are Halfling adventurers from Silverhawk City. We were on our way to the legendary Temple of Yasurta to find a lost Freya’s Tear, and to complete our Trial to become great adventurers. Once Bobo and Tiantian become great adventurers, we can accompany the Elven princesses of Silverhawk City to Aylanta.”

“…Aylanta is the holy city of the Elves, Dwarves, Forest Centaurs, and Halflings. It has delicacies Bobo could never imagine, songs Tiantian has never heard, and the one and only Sun Tree.”

“Legend says that Lord Barrel of Silverhawk City once bathed in the light of the Sun Tree, and she lived for nearly two hundred years before she died. Tiantian wants to bathe in the light of the Sun Tree too. Bobo just wants to go to Aylanta to study cooking. But only the Empress Regnant of the Elves can let Bobo and Tiantian sleep under the Sun Tree.”

“Originally, Bobo and I had no chance to go to Aylanta and bathe in the Sun Tree’s light, but now Aylanta is in trouble… Demons from the Abyss are attacking the realm of the Dark Elves who live underground, and they’ve even slipped into the forest through some small rifts. The Elven Empress Regnant of Aylanta has called upon the armies of all the forest cities to fight the demons of the Abyss. She’s also recently decided to select several heirs from among the Elven princesses to receive the blessing of the Sun Tree.”

“In the past few years, Silverhawk City has sent four expeditions to Aylanta to resist the demons of the Abyss. The princesses of Silverhawk City have the right to participate in the Empress Regnant’s selection. If the fourth princess of Silverhawk City presents ‘Freya’s Tear’ to the Elven Empress Regnant, she is certain to be chosen… Then Tiantian and Bobo can receive the blessing of the Sun Tree alongside the princess.”

“For the future of Silverhawk City, Tiantian and Bobo took the wayfinding staff left by Lord Barrel…”

The Halfling Tiantian’s voice grew smaller and smaller. He heard the hearts of His Highness Randell, Father Dayne, and Lady Charlotte, and they were as heavy and cold as the snow that blankets the forest.

Victor had already sat up straight. He glanced at Father Dayn, whose face was ashen, and sighed, “To think that demons from the Abyss have already appeared in the Endless Forest.”

Discussions within the Church about the unknown disaster were practically public, and Dayne himself had participated in them more than once. In fact, the Pope had placed him by the Attendant of Radiance’s side precisely to obtain information about this unknown disaster. The Ant-man monsters were certainly a disaster that threatened the human kingdoms, but if hundreds of thousands of Forest Centaurs could resist their invasion, those insect-like monsters probably didn’t yet have the strength to challenge the entirety of the human kingdoms. Today, Dayne had finally heard another version of events that was closer to the truth—demons from the Abyss. He couldn’t suppress his anxiety and said urgently, “Your Highness…”

Victor raised a hand to stop the priest’s question and turned to the Halfling brothers. “In the human tongue, Freya is the revered name of the Moon Goddess. I would like to know, what wondrous power does ‘Freya’s Tear’ possess? And what is Yasurta?”

The Halfling Bobo was the first to answer. “‘Freya’s Tear’ is a legendary sacred object of the Elves. It can absorb the power of the Sun Tree and give birth to a new Moon Tree. Silverhawk City has a Moon Tree, and she blesses the Elves, Dwarves, Forest Centaurs, and Halflings within the city…” Bobo seemed reluctant to elaborate on the mysteries of the Moon Tree and changed the subject. “‘Yasurta’ was also a legendary ancient empire, but not an Elven one. The Yasurtans once pleaded with the Elves to help them fight the Ant-men in the Endless Forest, but unfortunately, the Yasurta Empire has already fallen.”

The Halfling Tiantian continued, “No one in Silverhawk City knows where the ruins of the Yasurta Empire are. Fortunately, the adventurer Lord Barrel once went to Yasurta. With the wayfinding staff she left behind, we can definitely find the Temple of Yasurta and retrieve ‘Freya’s Tear’.”

Victor gave Charlotte a slight nod. The blonde, blue-eyed female knight understood immediately and retrieved a wooden stick from a hidden corner, handing it to Victor.

It looked like a very ordinary stick, with no signs of artificial carving, retaining its most primitive appearance. Yet Victor could not identify what kind of tree it came from. As he held it, he felt an inexplicable sense of familiarity.

The Halfling brothers were now staring, their eyes fixed on the seemingly unremarkable stick in Victor’s hand. After a moment, they heard His Highness Randell ask, “Is this the staff? I can’t see how it could point the way… If your Lord Barrel wasn’t a fraud, her wayfinding staff must have something extraordinary about it to be believable.”

The Halfling Tiantian cried out excitedly, “Lord Barrel is one of the greatest adventurers in the history of Silverhawk City! She was definitely not a fraud! Her staff is made from a branch that fell from a Moonlight Tree, and it records every place she has ever been. You just have to throw the staff forward, and the direction its tip points is the place we want to go.”

Victor said, amused, “This staff brought you to the Great Plains. Twenty-six days ago, you threw this staff, and it ended up being picked up by Beldina?”

Bobo’s small, round face flushed red as he mumbled in his defense, “It was Tiantian who threw the wayfinding staff. Before I had a chance to pick it up, Bel came charging over on her big dog, holding a stinky old fox. Behind her were the Giant, Aka, and the beautiful Lady Mewen… So, Tiantian and I hid in the grass and watched her take the staff…”

Tiantian glared at Bobo and shouted, “It’s all your fault for being a coward!”

“Tiantian is the real coward, he was the first to hide.”

With that, the two little fellows started swinging their fists at each other on the bench. Neither managed to hit the other, but it made Charlotte cover her mouth and stifle a giggle.

Beldina had picked up a broken stick on the plains; no one would have imagined it was a wondrous item belonging to Halfling adventurers. Until now, Charlotte and Dayne had assumed the Halfling brothers had simply stolen a commemorative artifact from Silverhawk City and that the so-called staff didn’t actually have any wayfinding properties.

Victor didn’t think so. A top-tier Extraordinary powerhouse could attach their own will to an object. The wayfinding staff leading the Bobo and Tiantian to Beldina was no mere coincidence. Bel’s extraordinary talent was luck, a Wizardry ability within the domain of fate. If she wanted to go to the ruins of the Assyrian Empire, it wouldn’t be surprising for her to stumble upon a great Halfling adventurer’s wayfinding staff in the vast plains.

The Yasurta Empire the Halfling brothers spoke of was clearly the Assyrian Empire. Victor had been worrying about how to find the ruins of the Assyrian Empire, and Beldina had solved the problem for him. Thinking back, it now made sense why Father Miller had been secretly protecting Beldina.

Bobo and Tiantian had revealed a great deal of information, but Victor was in no hurry to pry the answers to every mystery from their mouths. He planned to keep the Halfling brothers with him and slowly uncover the many unknown truths.

“Have you seen the Forest Centaurs and the Ant-man monsters fighting on these plains?” Victor asked nonchalantly as he toyed with the staff made from a Moonlight Tree branch.

“We have,” said Tiantian, pinching Bobo’s nose with one hand while his other hand gripped Bobo’s wrist, which was pulling his ear. “Silverhawk City always helps the Forest Centaurs to the east eliminate the Ant-man monsters, right here on these plains… Bobo, let’s both let go.”

“Alright,” Bobo said, releasing Tiantian’s ear and rubbing his own nose. He turned to Victor and said, “The Ant-man monsters the Forest Centaurs fight are the ones who are about to die. They aren’t strong… The strong Ant-men are deep in the forest. It’s said they destroyed Yasurta a long time ago.”

“As far as I know, the Forest Centaurs to the east have already left their homes and are no longer fighting the Ant-man monsters. Aren’t your Elven princesses afraid the Ant-man monsters will attack Silverhawk City?” Victor asked.

“We’re not afraid. Silverhawk City has the Moonlight Tree. The Ant-man monsters don’t dare to come near,” the Halfling Tiantian said proudly, puffing out his chest.

Victor nodded and casually tossed the wayfinding staff to the Halfling brothers. “You should know that I’m also going to the ruins of Yasurta,” he instructed. “I’ll only let you go after you’ve led me to the ruins. For now, you can go find Bel and Aka.”

“Bobo and Tiantian are happy to be of service to Your Highness Randell,” the Halfling brothers said, hopping off the wooden bench. They grabbed the staff and quickly ran out of the carriage cabin.

Victor turned his head to look at Charlotte and Dayne and said with a smile, “I was thinking of visiting the Halfling brothers’ Silverhawk City…”

Dayne remained silent, his mind still in turmoil over the news of the demons from the Abyss. Charlotte furrowed her slender, willow-like brows, her face full of worry as she advised, “Your Highness, I feel that the Elves seem more than capable of handling the demons of the Abyss. If they couldn’t handle them, they would have taken the initiative to ask the human kingdoms for aid. It would be more advantageous for us to make contact with the Elves when that time comes.”

Victor gave a wry smile inwardly. There was also a rift to the Abyss on the Arreat Plateau. If the demons invaded the human kingdoms from there, it was uncertain who would be asking whom for aid.

He sighed silently and instructed Charlotte and Dayne, “You may leave for now. I need to think about some things alone.”

Chapter 775: Tipping Point

“What are the demons of the Abyss?”

Victor had always wanted to figure this out. From a linguistic perspective, the Radiant Church declared the “Abyss” to be the dwelling of devils, and “demons” to be their claws. “Demons of the Abyss” had become an opposing concept in theology, and believers often used the phrase “may my soul fall into the Abyss” as the consequence for breaking their vows.

However, “demons of the Abyss” was not a term created by the Radiant Church. The Common Tongue had been passed down from the Era of the Chosen with almost no changes. The Wizard City-states ruled by ancient Wizards also had this term, so it must refer to something specific.

If one traced this back linguistically, the human tongue was derived from Elvish. The demons of the Abyss spoken of by the Halfling brothers were clearly an objective existence known to both the Elves and ancient humans.

The information revealed by Bobo and Tiantian once again verified the pieces of the knowledge jigsaw puzzle that Victor had been collecting and completing.

The Abyss, a plane created by the Chaos Giant Serpent, coexisted with the material plane created by Creator Taelon Ruier and the sanctuary plane created by the Bird of Light. Demons were the native inhabitants of the Abyssal plane. For some unknown reason, the demons of the Abyss and the Gods of the Sanctuary had once been in contact with the wise races of the material plane.

Sometime before the Twilight Era, the King of the Spirit Realm, an Ancient Behemoth, was exiled to the underground by the other great existences. The Gros Insectoids he created once launched an offensive against the demons in the deeper parts of the underground, but by the Twilight Era, the King of the Spirit Realm’s insectoid army was defeated by the demons of the Abyss. The Gros Insectoids then turned to the surface in search of living space, and their actions thoroughly enraged the ancient Elves.

War broke out between the Gros Insectoids and the ancient Elves. The Elves’ Ancient God, Freya, defeated the King of the Spirit Realm, seized his power, and split into the Moon Goddess and the Spider Lady, the latter of whom created the Subterranean Elves. The Gros Insectoids were nearly wiped out, with only scattered swarms left to eke out a meager existence in the Endless Forest.

During the subsequent Dark Age, the Ancient Gods fell silent. The Goblins, vassals of the Elves, united with the Bear-monsters and launched a rebellion. They stole the Ancient God bloodlines from the Elves’ collection, captured primordial beings, and created the Barbarians as helpers. They once held the upper hand in the war, establishing the immensely powerful High Goblin Empire.

In the war between the Goblin Empire and the Elven Empire, the demons of the Abyss and the Gods of the Sanctuary did not stand by and do nothing. At the very least, the demons of the Abyss sided with the High Goblins, and the turning point of the war was precisely the betrayal of the demon prince Donar and the Abyssal Dragons. Sky Spirit Donar defected to the sanctuary, liberating the Barbarians who had been enslaved by the High Goblins, while the Dragons allied with the Elves, becoming a part of the material world.

The Gods of the Sanctuary must have had a hand in this, thwarting the plans of the Abyssal demons.

Without a doubt, the first Abyssal Demon invasion Victor knew of occurred during the Dark Age, and it was primarily aimed at the ancient Elven Empire.

With the decline of the ancient Elven Empire and the rise of early humans, the Alchemical Empire, jointly ruled by human Mages and Alchemists, took the stage of history. Then, they encountered the second invasion of the Abyssal demons. This time, the human Alchemical Empire was the main force resisting them.

Now, the demons of the Abyss had returned. The ancient Elven Empire was currently fighting them in their ancestral lands within the Endless Forest. Could the human kingdoms, ruled by the Radiant Church and knightly lords, truly stay out of it?

The answer to this question could not allow for any wishful thinking. Apart from actively preparing for war, there was no other choice!

Therefore, Victor currently faced two options. First, go to the elven city of Silverhawk City, near the Great Plains, to understand the actual situation with the Elves and demons. With his Sun Elf bloodline, guiding the Elven Empire and the human kingdoms into an alliance to jointly fight the demon invaders would be something that happens when the time is right. The second option was to follow his original plan: go to the Endless Forest first to eliminate the hidden threat of the Ant-man monsters and seize the legacy of the ancient Alchemists, then consider the matter of the Elves and demons later.

Of course, the relationships between the Abyssal demons, the Elven Empire, the human kingdoms, and the Ant-man monsters were intricate and complex. Even if the human kingdoms wanted to ally with the Elven Empire, it couldn’t be achieved overnight. Moreover, Victor himself could not yet decide the diplomatic strategy for all the human kingdoms, even though he was the most crucial player.

First, the demons of the Abyss were invaders from the Outer Realms who had previously waged war against the ancient Elven Empire and the human Alchemical Empire. However, the first to attack the Abyssal demons was actually Taelon World’s own Ancient Behemoth—the King of the Spirit Realm. In other words, Creator Taelon Ruier had intended to devour the other Creator, the Chaos Giant Serpent. From this perspective, the demons of the Abyss were the great enemies of the Elves and primordial humans, and thus, Victor’s great enemies as well.

Victor had laid the groundwork in advance, developing the new agropastoral system, implementing the tenant system, and carrying out the Grand Legion Strategy. All the preparations he made were to cope with unknown disasters, which obviously included the Abyssal demons that had invaded the Alchemical Empire.

Second was the relationship between the Elves and humans. Both shared common origins and had been traditional allies from the Dark Age to the late Era of the Chosen, jointly resisting two demon invasions. But that didn’t necessarily mean their relationship was very good.

The Blood Sacrifice Wars of the Wizard City-states were merely a catalyst for the rift between the Elves and humans. The true conflict lay in the fact that the descendants of lower elves and humans who intermarried were almost all primordial humans. For this reason alone, the upper echelons of the Elven Empire were bound to end the situation of Elves and humans living together.

It has been over nine thousand years since the Radiant Church and the city-state Knights joined forces to overthrow the tyrannical rule of the Chosen Wizards and seize control of the human kingdoms, yet the Elven Empire has never re-established diplomatic relations. This was enough to prove that the rulers of the Elven Empire held an attitude of indifference toward humans.

This cold detachment was directly reflected in the mass migration of the Forest Centaurs and Mountain Dwarves. The Elves knew that the demons of the Abyss were invading Taelon World again. They recalled their vassal races near the human kingdoms but failed to issue a warning to their former allies who had fought the demons alongside them.

One must remember that the Arreat Plateau, guarded by the Mountain Dwarves and Barbarians, also had an Abyssal Chasm. Victor was certain that the Barbarians were a powerful force left behind by the Alchemical Empire. They coexisted with the Mountain Dwarves, monitored the movements of the Abyssal Chasm, and suppressed the procreation of the Grayhollow Satyrs. All of this served as circumstantial evidence for the historical fact that the ancient Alchemical Empire fought alongside the Elves against the demons of the Abyss.

But now, the Mountain Dwarves had withdrawn from the Arreat Plateau, leaving a group of muscle-brained Barbarians to stare wide-eyed at each other. This led to the demon-like Grayhollow Satyrs rapidly occupying the dwarven tunnels, their numbers exploding and posing a serious threat to the survival of the Barbarian tribes.

With the help of the Radiant Church and human lords, the Barbarians of the plateau could still handle the Goat-people monsters. But what if the demons of the Abyss crawled out of the Great Chasm of Arreat? The Barbarians were, after all, a small race with a total population of less than four hundred thousand. If Arreat Plateau were to fall, the consequences of demons and Goat-people monsters entrenching themselves on the plateau and threatening the Sasan Empire would be simply unimaginable.

That was the most important grain-producing region of the human kingdoms!

The Forest Centaurs were even more interesting. They had survived and procreated in the Centaur Hills for thousands of years. Were they also guarding something?

Victor believed that they were following the will of the Elven Empire, silently guarding Alchemy Tower No. 7 to prevent the Ant-man Queen from seizing the Alchemical Empire’s Elemental Rune Crystal.

The Gros Insectoids of the Twilight Era were the Nemesis of the ancient Elven Empire, but the Ant-man monsters could not be equated with them. They originated from the forbidden experiments of the Alchemists’ Secret Order, with the goal of throwing the alchemical ants into the abyssal chasms. They were a secret weapon specifically designed to deal with the demons of the Abyss. From this perspective, the Secret Order’s creation of the alchemical ants at that time also aligned with the interests of the Elves and might have received their secret support.

Assuming the Elven Empire had participated in the Secret Order’s plan, they should possess a means to restrain the Ant-man monsters. The Moonlight Tree, Freya’s Tear, and perhaps the Azoretta people could be considered interconnected clues—the Ant-men could not attack elven cities that had a Moon Tree.

However, Victor was certain of one thing: the Elves did not possess the alchemical technique of the Art of Void Creation. During the second demon war, the Alchemical Empire was initially at a disadvantage. It wasn’t until the Alchemists mastered the Art of Void Creation and constructed numerous Alchemy Towers that the tide of the war changed, driving the demon invaders back to their Abyssal lair.

From the records left by the Alchemists of the Secret Order, that demon war prompted the human city-states to unite under the banner of the Alchemists’ Council, forming the Alchemical Empire. The Art of Void Creation and the Alchemy Towers were a turning point in human history.

Although the ancient Elven Empire passed the torch of civilization to the early humans, the Elves could not use the Art of Void Creation like human Knights. Otherwise, they would not have suffered repeated defeats at the hands of the High Goblins and Abyssal demons during the first demon war. The Alchemical Empire, which had mastered the Art of Void Creation, had more of a say in matters than its Elven allies.

Who taught the Art of Void Creation to the High-ranked Knight-Alchemists of the human city-states?

The only ones Victor could think of were the Gods of the Sanctuary. In the current situation, they might be a fifth power, aside from the Elves, humans, demons of the Abyss, and Ant-man monsters.

The relationship between the Gods of the Sanctuary and the human kingdoms was hard to describe in a few words. The sudden demise of the Alchemical Empire seemed to be their handiwork; the Blood Sacrifice Wars of the Wizard City-states seemed to be related to them; the Radiant Church seemed to classify both them and the demons of the Abyss among evil gods and devils. They were secretive and mysterious, and all the information Victor had on them was unverifiable, thus providing no basis for his decisions. But he had a faint feeling that the Gods of the Sanctuary had some connection, or even a cooperative relationship, with the modern Elven Empire.

It was because of this uncontrollable factor that Victor found himself at a crossroads of fate, feeling completely lost about the path ahead and unable to make a decision.

If he were to temporarily disregard the existence of the Gods of the Sanctuary and simply look at the available intelligence, once the news of the Abyssal demons invading the Endless Forest reached the human kingdoms, the Radiant Knights and the elites of the various kingdoms would have to heavily guard the Great Chasm on the Arreat Plateau. Victor’s plan to gather the elites of the human kingdoms on the Great Plains to intercept the Ant-man monsters would be completely ruined.

In a sense, his conflict with the Ant-men was a personal matter. Even if Alchemy Tower No. 7 absorbed the Elemental Rune Crystal used to control the Queen, it would only strengthen His Highness Randall’s power. The Abyssal demons, however, were an external enemy that the human kingdoms had to face together. Even Victor himself would not place the threat of the Ant-men above that of the Abyssal demons.

If the elites of the various kingdoms and the Radiant Knights could not come to the Great Plains to intercept the Ant-man army, how many elite war beast cavalry could the Gambis Kingdom muster on its own to fight mobile field battles against the Ant-man monsters?

If Gambis’s elite forces were insufficient, they would have to abandon the strategy of fighting the enemy in the wilderness, allowing the flames of war to burn into the Centaur Hills in the western part of the kingdom.

After thinking it over and over, Victor concluded that he either had to successfully find the Elemental Rune Crystal to control the Ant-man Queen and resolve this imminent crisis, or he needed to find other powerful aid to continue the plan to intercept the Ant-man army.

In reality, Victor was well aware that the possibility of him finding the Elemental Rune Crystal was very small, and even if he did, it would probably be useless. Otherwise, how could the Secret Order of the Alchemical Empire have allowed the alchemical ants to get out of control?

There might be an unknown secret behind this, but regardless, it seemed there was only one option left before Victor.

So, from where should Victor seek this powerful aid?

The answer was obvious. The Forest Centaurs were not fighting the Ant-man invaders alone; the army of Silverhawk City was coordinating with them.

Securing the aid of the Elves of Silverhawk City should not be difficult for Victor, but this outcome sent a chill down his spine.

He was the Tower Master of an Alchemy Tower and had also manifested the Sun Elf bloodline. His arrival, however, had an inexplicable connection to the Wizards and the evil gods behind them. If the Forest Centaurs had guarded Alchemy Tower No. 7 for thousands of years, and shortly after they abandoned their homeland and migrated, Victor appeared behind the little Baron of Wimbledon, and then immediately activated Alchemy Tower No. 7 in the Centaur Hills.

No matter how you looked at it, this seemed like a conspiracy.

Assuming there was some kind of agreement between the Gods of the Sanctuary and the Elven Empire, the condition for their cooperation might have been to deliver a Sun Elf who was also a Tower Master, gift-wrapped and all, to the Elves.

Since stepping into the Saint realm, Victor, for the first time, lost confidence in his ability to control the direction of his own destiny. He felt a deep sense of powerlessness. He understood that the threads of fate, silently woven by the Gods of the Sanctuary or evil gods and devils, had finally reached their tipping point for him. One wrong step would lead to the loss of his own free will, or even the ordeal of being shattered to pieces.

How should I decide?

Victor unreservedly summoned the Rune Crystal of Alchemy Tower No. 7 from within his body, letting it continuously shift between rune and crystal forms as it spun around his fingertip. His four beautiful, enchanting, and immensely powerful Dragonkin handmaidens sensed their Master’s feelings. They all stood guard by his side, their pupils transforming into draconic vertical pupils. A dangerous aura spread out from the carriage, forbidding anyone from approaching or prying.

Retracting the shimmering and magnificent Elemental Rune Crystal, Victor let out a long breath and fell back onto the couch, resting his head on Laila’s smooth, pale, and supple thigh. He closed his dark gold eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

At this moment, Victor was not using dormancy to ponder his problems. He simply felt physically and mentally exhausted and wanted nothing more than to sleep.

Chapter 776: Avoidance

No one knew of the confusion in Victor’s heart. The followers of House Randell methodically investigated the produce of the plains, drew maps, gathered resources, and hunted the prairie’s wild boars and short-horned takin.

The expeditionary force planned to enter the Endless Forest before autumn. The environment inside the forest was complex, and since the Randell Expeditionary Force’s main mission was exploration and reconnaissance, they might frequently run into surprise skirmishes. Even if the forest’s produce was bountiful, they likely wouldn’t have much time to gather resources. Thus, they had to seize the present opportunity to prepare as many food supplies as possible.

The followers were all busy. The big simpleton Aka had returned to his old trade as a butcher. With his immense strength and masterful butchering skills, he was exclusively responsible for breaking down the prey brought back by the hunting parties. A four-hundred or five-hundred-pound prairie wild boar would be cleaned and processed in a matter of moments in his hands.

Aka and his ten assistants could process over a hundred wild boars and short-horned takin every day. Fortunately, the wild boars and takin on the plains were innumerable. The hunting squads sent out by Narsen returned fully loaded every time, capturing enough prey to keep Aka busy from dawn till dusk.

Having so much prey on the Great Plains was a good thing, but it wasn’t necessarily good news.

The apex predators here were primarily wild wolves, spotted tigers, and black bears. The only active beastmen were small bands of Gnolls. The more common Goblins and Kobolds were nowhere to be seen, not even Ogres.

Gnolls were savage and cunning by nature, but they lacked the ability to wage war. In contrast, it was the frail Goblins who possessed the potential to stand against any army. Goblins often served as the unifying agent for beastman legions, cementing the scattered, disorderly tribes into a whole. With no Goblins on these plains, a fanciful plan of Victor’s had completely fallen through.

He had originally hoped that Imosen could conquer the various beastman tribes of the plains and command a beastman legion to assist the human cavalry against the Ant-man monsters. Now, it seemed that hope was lost.

Furthermore, the fact that so many wild boars and takin hadn’t attracted any Ogres to hunt them was somewhat unusual in itself.

Ogres were dull-witted yet perceptive. Their absence from the plains perhaps meant they sensed the imminent arrival of the Ant-man monsters. This further intensified the sense of urgency for Victor and his followers.

Though the plan to control a beastman legion was shelved, Imosen was not idle. He trained diligently every day, making significant progress in his understanding and application of his Wizardry talent. In addition to carefully nurturing Philip II, Philip III, and twenty fully grown Razorbeasts, he also used discarded animal entrails to cultivate more than two hundred half-mature Aberrant Rats.

These small monsters, spawned through Wizardry, were about the size of a wildcat. Although their combat strength was low, their advantage lay in their numbers, and their individual need for meat was also small. They could normally survive by hunting insects, frogs, and mice on their own, and in times of need, they could be rapidly matured into adult Razorbeasts comparable in size to an Alchemical Warhound.

The small Aberrant Rats had another advantage: their thirst for blood and flesh made them highly sensitive to living creatures, allowing them to serve as excellent sentinels in the complex environment of the forest. If a small Aberrant Rat was killed, Imosen the Wizard would know immediately.

Imosen had released all two hundred small Aberrant Rats, enough to stand guard over a twenty-kilometer-radius area of the forest. Of course, controlling so many Biological Aberrations was a considerable burden on a Wizard’s magic and vigor, but through continuous exploration and practice, Imosen had finally found the knack and become proficient.

He lacked neither the secret arts for tempering his spirit nor an experienced mentor. The moment he got serious, he was finally able to unleash his Legendary-rank Wizardry talent, and he began to look the part of a top-tier Wizard.

The expeditionary force was about to enter the Endless Forest. As His Highness Randell remained silent in his carriage, the entire contingent felt a heavy, intangible pressure, which spurred Imosen to desperately tap into his own potential. The others were no exception.

Narsen was busy training the Source-blood militia in the ranks, trying to cram as much real combat experience into them as possible. At the same time, he worked with the family’s knights, Ferocious warriors, and the accompanying priests and wizards to study various tactical plans and conduct drills.

After dinner each day, gathering around the campfire to watch the Halfling brothers’ song and dance performances and listen to their tall tales was a shared pastime for everyone. Since the expedition’s destination was the Endless Forest, the Halfling adventurers who came from there were naturally welcomed by all. Father Dayne, in particular, had done a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn in his attitude toward the brothers. He was always trying to find ways to get close to Bobo and Tiantian, probing for news about the Elves, the Ant-men, and the demons of the Abyss.

Unfortunately, the Halfling adventurers were clever rascals. The brothers Bobo and Tiantian had no love for the priest with his ulterior motives, and they always managed to amuse Dayne with their skillful use of language. Only afterward would the priest realize that the Halfling brothers hadn’t revealed a single piece of the information he wanted.

Language is a science. Truth can create lies, and lies can reveal the truth. Halfling adventurers were born with silver tongues. If the listener couldn’t corroborate their words from the side, how could they distinguish fact from fiction?

Dayne didn’t have Victor’s knowledge jigsaw puzzle, and every time he went to chat with the Halfling brothers, a white light would flash in his eyes. Setting aside how effective the Detect Lie divine art was against high-ranking Halfling adventurers, the mere wariness Dayne displayed was enough to make Bobo and Tiantian distrust him.

However, Beldina’s pure and lovely charm was nearly irresistible. The Halfling brothers were more than happy to satisfy her curiosity, telling her stories of Silverhawk City every night.

At this moment, Beldina, dressed in a small handmaiden’s dress, was propping her round chin on her chubby little hands, sitting by the campfire like a proper lady, listening to Bobo’s serialized story.

“Trigg was once blessed by the Sun Tree. He was the most handsome Greater Elf in Silverymoon City. The Moon Well he looked into would attract many Tree Elves and Wild Elves, all scrambling to ask for Moon Dew, hoping to obtain beauty like Trigg’s. Alas, most Elven ladies could not have Trigg. The first, second, fifth, and sixth princesses of Silverhawk City, along with twelve High Elves, had already won ownership of Trigg. They would take turns favoring Trigg each month. Any other elf who wanted to marry Trigg would have to challenge one of his High Elf spouses and defeat her. Or, if one of the High Elves became pregnant and automatically gave up her ownership of Trigg, only then would other elves have a chance to compete for him.”

Beldina maintained the appearance of a ten-year-old girl but had the romantic heart of a maiden, and the tales of Elven love and marriage always fascinated her. The others could only listen in as a silent audience.

“…Trigg, is he more handsome than Brandon and Klaus?” Bel’s eyes darted between the two young family knights as she asked curiously.

Klaus couldn’t help but shake his head and laugh, while Brandon puffed out his chest, as his own looks were also first-rate. But the Halfling Tiantian shook his head and said, “Klaus and Brandon are very strong and handsome, but they are not the type of spouse that Elves prefer.”

Narsen, who had been listening from the side, couldn’t help but ask, “Do female Elves not like strong and burly partners? Or is it that Elves aren’t strong and powerful enough?”

Bobo shook his head like a pellet drum and said, “Wild Elves are very strong and burly, but their strength is less than that of the handsome, slender Greater Elves. Are humans also like Ogres, where whoever has more flesh has more strength?”

Narsen was instantly stunned. He himself was not the tall, burly, muscle-bound type, yet in terms of sheer strength, you could count on one hand the number of people in the entire human kingdoms who could compare to him. Narsen knew, however, that the strength he took pride in was nothing before Victor.

His Highness Randell was a being who could grapple with an Ogre Warlord. Perhaps only the barbarian Elder Harald and the big simpleton Caligula could match him in strength.

“I know! Female Elves like spouses who are beautiful and strong,” Bel said happily, clapping her small hands. “Just like my Master.”

Bobo and Tiantian nodded repeatedly, and Tiantian corrected her, “Female Elves are called High Elves, and male Elves are called Greater Elves. They have black hair, black eyes, and pointed ears. Those with green hair and blue eyes are called Tree Elves. And all other elves are Wild Elves. Bel, next time you meet Elves, don’t say ‘female Elf’ anymore. They don’t use human gender terms.”

Beldina nodded, lifted her rounded chin, and said, both smugly and with feigned reserve, “I like Master, too. When I grow up, I will serve Master just like Lady Elina. Aren’t Bel and the female Elves very similar? When Bel meets female Elves and male Elves, she will become good friends with them.”

No one took Bel’s childish words seriously. They all couldn’t help but smile, and Brandon even winked and said, “Bel, you truly break my heart. When you grow up, I was hoping to take you as my wife.”

Bel huffed, turning her apple-red face to the side, and said in a proud and shy manner, “I don’t like Brandon’s type at all. If I liked Brandon, I wouldn’t be like a female elf.”

Everyone roared with laughter. The atmosphere was light and cheerful, and Father Dayne took the opportunity to ask, “The Greater Elf Trigg must be the strongest in Silverhawk City. How many demons from the Abyss has he eliminated?”

“High Elves would never let a Greater Elf participate in battle… Trigg is Silverhawk City’s finest harpist. The melodies he plays casually are as pure and beautiful as the moonlight. When he begins to play, even the stupid and wicked Dwarves will stop their clanging hammers and wait patiently for Trigg to finish his performance.” This was the Halfling’s response to Dayne’s probing. He had neither spoken of the Greater Elf Trigg’s combat prowess nor mentioned any specific information about the demons of the Abyss.

Klaus chimed in, “Somehow I feel like the Dwarves in Silverhawk City are forced to do so.”

Narsen didn’t understand what Klaus meant and asked with wide eyes, “Forced to do what?”

Brandon laughed beside him. “If the Dwarves dared to hammer on their anvils while the Greater Elf Trigg was playing his harp, they would surely be beaten black and blue by the Elves and Halflings.”

Another round of laughter erupted from the group around the campfire, dispelling Father Dayne’s awkwardness. But he hadn’t given up. After a moment, he tried again, asking with a smile, “Are the Greater Elves of Silverhawk City as handsome as our His Highness Randell?”

“His Highness Randell is the most handsome person we’ve ever seen…”

“…No elf can compare to His Highness Randell.”

“His Highness Randell is not an elf…”

“His eyes are gold, and his ears aren’t long enough.”

The Halfling brothers spoke one after another, praising His Highness Randell’s unparalleled beauty while pointing out that he was not an elf. The followers of House Randell all wore faint smiles. Their Gold-Eyed Earl could certainly not be an elf.

Father Dayne asked with feigned composure, “So no Elves have golden eyes? Have you ever heard of an elf from Aylanta over three thousand years ago, with golden hair and golden eyes, named Draven Wimbledon?”

Bobo and Tiantian glanced at each other and simultaneously shook their heads. The atmosphere of the campfire gathering suddenly grew heavy.

Sword Saint Draven. Even if he was an extraordinary figure from three thousand years ago, his fame still circulated in the human kingdoms. How could he be unheard of among the Elves? Could it be that the Sun Elves had become fertilizer for Aylanta’s Sun Tree, buried deep in the earth?

An almost mischievous thought popped into Victor’s mind. He was actually just making excuses for himself, having resolved to temporarily not think about the demons of the Abyss and the Elves.

He hadn’t left his carriage in the past two days, but nothing that happened in the camp could escape his Perception.

Dayne’s method of probing the Halfling brothers was flawed. Those two little fellows were on their first adventure away from home; they had probably never been to the Elven homeland of Aylanta, so their knowledge of Elven secret histories and the situation with the demons of the Abyss was limited.

From the Halflings’ conversations over the past few days, Victor had pieced together a general picture of the Elven Empire.

The Elven Empire was a polity composed of Elves, Dwarves, Halflings, and Forest Centaurs, adopting a city-state system. Each Elven city-state was equivalent to an autonomous kingdom, but they ruled their subjects through divine authority and bloodline hierarchy, all united under the banner of the Elven homeland, Aylanta. The Elven Empress Regnant of Aylanta actually ruled the entire Elven Empire by relying on the extraordinary power of the Sun Tree and the Moon Trees.

The Sun Tree seemed to be able to enhance the bloodline power and life level of the Elves and their vassal races, and it possessed effects similar to divine arts. The Moon Trees inherited some of the Sun Tree’s abilities and were the core of the autonomous Elven city-states.

The Elven princesses of Silverhawk City were also shamanesses of the Moon Goddess. Through their special connection with the Moon Tree, they were able to perform the Elves’ unique extraordinary divine arts. They were undoubtedly the rulers of Silverhawk City, holding the most authoritative say in matters.

The Sun and Moon Trees seemed to have a kind of domain characteristic. Within the area covered by a Moon Tree’s domain, the residents of an Elven city-state would automatically receive bonuses to their Spirit, Perception, and Life attributes, and the Elven princesses could also freely cast their extraordinary divine arts. But outside the domain, their ability to use divine arts would disappear. Therefore, the religious faith of the Elven city-states was far from comparable to the Radiant Church of the human kingdoms.

In fact, the Elven Empire only had a pan-faith similar to ancestor worship. Without devout believers, a tightly organized church naturally would not emerge.

The benefits brought by the Sun Tree and Moon Trees to the Elves and their vassal races were tangible, and they also created the Elven Empire’s unique social structure and family relationships.

The Elves could be divided into Moon Elves, Tree Elves, and Wild Elves according to the degree of their bloodline awakening.

Moon Elves were the ruling class of the Elven city-states. Each Moon Elf probably had the strength of the Gold rank, but their numbers were scarce, and male Moon Elves were even more pitifully few, with a male-to-female ratio of about 1:10. The female Moon Elves called themselves High Elves, while the males were called Greater Elves by them.

Although Greater Elves were rare, their status in the Elven city-states was very low. The High Elves would decide who could have a Greater Elf as a partner through martial competitions.

Alright, the Moon Elves, like the human Knight-Nobles, practiced polygyny. However, apart from serving their different wives, the Greater Elves bore no other societal responsibilities, much like the male pet partners of high-ranking female knights, holding no real power in the family.

Victor felt the Greater Elves were quite pitiful, but upon reflection, it wasn’t hard to see that in both the Taelon World and on Earth, what determined one’s status in the family was not gender, but strength. If a wife had power, status, formidable strength, and superb martial skills, no matter how fiercely the husband bellowed, he was just one punch away from being knocked out. The empresses regnant in history would chop off their lovers’ heads without batting an eye, and no one was ever seen daring to clamor about their husbandly pride in front of them.

It takes a strong hand to forge steel; this principle holds true everywhere.

Victor estimated that the Greater Elves of Silverhawk City were merely of ordinary Gold rank strength. If they could be as strong as he was, they could surely choose their own spouses.

The situation for Tree Elves was a bit better. The male-to-female ratio was about 3:7. As the backbone of Silverymoon City, their individual strength was close to that of a Bronze Knight, and nearly all of them possessed the Wind Walk talent, with no shortage of Silver-rank experts among them. Male Tree Elves could hold some real power in the city-state.

Wild Elves had the lowest social status in their race. Their male-to-female ratio was roughly equal, and they practiced monogamy. Most Wild Elves lived in small towns and villages outside the Elven city-states, relying on the Moon Wells in their settlements to maintain the strength of their bloodline. And these Moon Wells required the Elven princesses to periodically grant them the fruit seeds of the Moon Tree to be built and maintained.

The enemies of the Elven city-states were mainly the Goblins, Gnolls, and Bear-monsters of the Endless Forest. Due to the domain power of the Moon Tree and Moon Wells, the beastman tribes in the forest posed almost no threat to the Elven city-states, but they did attack the outlying towns and villages.

Victor surmised that Silverhawk City’s military strength was considerable, comparable to the combined strength of three human duchies, if not an entire human kingdom. They had Tree Elf Wind Walk Archers, Tree Elf war beast cavalry, Wild Elf hunters and light infantry, as well as Dwarf shield guards, Dwarf goat heavy cavalry, and Forest Centaur raiders. As for Silverhawk City’s total military force, the Halfling brothers never revealed it.

It would be for the best if Silverhawk City could help Victor deal with the Ant-man monsters. But Victor gave up the idea of visiting Silverhawk City, at least he himself would not make contact with the Elves.

The threat from the demons of the Abyss to Aylanta didn’t seem to be severe. Even the Halfling brothers could run all over the world, showing no sign that the demonic invasion had much of an impact on the Elven city-states.

Perhaps the demons of the Abyss were just ordinary monsters, certainly not as powerful as the demons from the era of the Alchemical Empire. There was no need for Victor to worry excessively, but the main reason was that he was unwilling to get himself entangled.

Of course, the value of Silverhawk City itself was immeasurable. It was an ancient civilization with a long line of succession, possessing numerous technologies and knowledge that the human kingdoms lacked. The Halflings’ breathing method alone made Victor’s mouth water; he considered it a very practical combat art that could supplement the Sundering Method content of his theory of the Mind and Bloodline.

Abandoning diplomatic relations with Silverhawk City was not a wise move. Victor decided to let Sylvia handle this matter. He picked up his goose quill and wrote a long letter to his beloved wife, detailing the situation he had encountered. Then he called in the Dragonkin handmaiden Mewen and instructed, “Deliver this letter, along with the map of the plains we’ve drawn, to the Outpost camp in the Grey Rabbit Mountains and entrust them to the outpost’s commander for safekeeping… Then tell him that when the logistics battalion from the Centaur Hills arrives at the outpost, he is to give the letter and map to Lady Trisley and have her take them back to Rose Manor.”

“My King, do you have any other commands?” Mewen asked softly, taking the letter and map and blinking her beautiful, azure eyes.

“Go quickly and return quickly. We set off for the Endless Forest the day after tomorrow.” Victor waved his hand, and seeing Mewen still standing there, he asked again, “Is there a problem?”

“My King, you haven’t given this plain a name yet.”

Victor turned his head to look through the carriage window. Seeing the dwarf oak trees scattered across the prairie, he said with a faint smile, “Let’s call it Oak Prairie.”

Chapter 777: The Ant-man Marching Trail

To the west of the Oak Prairie.

It had been nearly twenty days since the Randell Expeditionary Force set out from their temporary settlement on the prairie. The convoy had not been delayed, and the vast, flat sea of grass was left far behind. Ahead, the trees grew from sparse to dense, with tracts of primeval forest faintly visible.

The ground began to grow rugged and uneven. The grass was but a thin layer, revealing the black soil beneath. A light but steady rain the night before last had left the fertile black earth slick and muddy. The wheels of the large wagons would occasionally sink into the pitted, swampy ground.

Fortunately, the Alchemical Dragon-Lizards possessed astonishing strength and could easily drag the heavy carriages out of the mud pits, but the resulting jolting was an unavoidable problem. The log-built carts of the Alchemical militia were sturdy enough, but they lacked any sophisticated suspension system. The wagons practically bounced and leaped as they moved. Those with the privilege of riding in them could endure it at first, but over time, no one could stand the ceaseless bumping. They would rather walk than continue to suffer inside the carriages.

Victor, however, sat in his carriage as steady as ever. Those who had ignited the fire of the mind could adjust their balance according to the carriage’s vibrations to nullify the impact on their internal organs and brain, but overcoming the constant jolting for an extended period was still mentally taxing. Only a deeper level of the fire of the mind could automatically adjust the body in response to external forces, allowing one to sit effortlessly in a perpetually jolting carriage.

Of course, this was no more comfortable than walking, and even a senior knight could not practice the three-headed lizard visualization in a bumping carriage. Therefore, Charlotte and the Dragonkin handmaidens were also walking outside.

There were very few who could maintain their visualization in a bumpy carriage, and Victor was one of them. But his three-headed lizard visualization had already fully replenished his vigor. He was using the turbulent environment to explore a unique combat breathing method.

The matter of Silverhawk City had been left for Sylvia to resolve. With nothing else to do, Victor sat in his carriage and studied the Halfling brothers’ breathing method. The two little fellows did not seem to have ignited the fire of the mind, yet they possessed an extraordinary sense of balance. Using robust Bear-Dogs as mounts, they could stand steadily on their backs, never falling off no matter how the creatures ran.

Victor believed that, besides the Halflings’ natural dexterity, this level of balance had a great deal to do with the breathing method they cultivated.

Breathing—an internal potential change that exists between the active and the passive—is also the only force of inner potential that humans can consciously control. A person can control their breathing rate, can hold their breath, but no one can hold their breath until they die. If one viewed a person’s inner potential, external forces, and mind as a precision machine, then breathing would be the gear that connects external force and inner potential, directly affecting the entire machine’s operation.

In truth, Victor’s own Mind Bloodline secret art included breathing methods for regulating the body and mind. But this was the first time he had seen a breathing method systematically applied to daily activities, and even specifically to combat.

Inside the carriage, he used his wind element Insight to observe the subtle changes in his own inner potential while constantly adjusting his breathing to adapt to the carriage’s random jolts, deducing, little by little, the effects of a combat breathing method on the human body.

After a period of experimentation, Victor gradually grasped the principles of the combat breathing method, and the results of his Deduction delighted him.

A person who mastered the Combat Breathing Method could mobilize a portion of their inner potential, allowing their body to instantly become tougher and withstand more damage. They could burst with strength, jump farther, run faster. They could stimulate their spirit, making their mind clearer and their strikes more precise.

In reality, the Combat Breathing Method had little effect on someone who had already ignited the fire of the mind. But such people were a tiny minority. For the vast majority, including apprentice knights, Mind Warriors, and common soldiers, mastering the Combat Breathing Method would increase their individual combat power to varying degrees.

In short, the Combat Breathing Method could infinitely approach the state of the fire of the mind, and could be called a pseudo-fire of the mind. Although it could not compare to the true fire of the mind, it was simple, easy to learn, and applicable to a very wide range of people, making it suitable for widespread adoption.

This was where the Combat Breathing Method’s greatest value lay.

If one practiced the Combat Breathing Method to its absolute peak, their skin and internal organs would also learn to “breathe,” entering a state where external and internal respiration merged, perhaps producing all sorts of miraculous effects.

It was a good thing that Victor was the only person who could consciously “turn off” his fire of the mind, allowing him to test the breathing method at the level of an ordinary person. Any other legendary powerhouse would not have found it so easy to glimpse the mysteries and potential of the Combat Breathing Method.

Victor, feeling rather pleased with himself, named the technique the “Randell Breathing Method.” Just as he was preparing to study it further, the carriage gradually came to a halt. Narsen shouted excitedly from outside the window, “My lord, Tao De and Macy’s scouting party sent word! They’ve found traces of the Ant-men up ahead!”

Victor’s pupils contracted slightly. He leaped from the carriage in a flash, leaving the main column behind, and ran ahead with Narsen.

Before long, they arrived at a high point where the vanguard scouting party, commanded by Tao De, was waiting. Tao De and Macy first greeted Victor with a salute, then said, “Your Highness, the forest below this high ground is a bit strange. I believe those are traces left by an Ant-man tide.”

With a slight push of his legs, Victor flew lightly onto a massive rock eight or nine meters high. He gazed downward, and the scenery opened up before him. Below the steep, perilous slope was a verdant forest. Even with Victor’s extraordinary vision, he could not see its end. Amidst it wound a serpentine river like a jade belt, and imposing mountain ranges rose majestically, yet they were mere embellishments to the forest, like undercurrents and islands in the ocean.

A boundless sea of trees, an endless forest… Victor couldn’t help but sigh in his heart. He soon discovered a peculiar “road” within the sea of trees. It was a strip of forest four or five kilometers wide, where the trees were sparse and short, in stark contrast to the lush, dense forest surrounding it. An ordinary person could distinguish the difference at a glance. The surrounding area was ancient, primeval forest, while the sparse strip was all new growth, the trees generally no more than twenty years old.

This was a road chewed out of existence by the Ant-man army!

Charlotte and the Dragonkin handmaidens had also followed, along with Aka, Bel, Father Dayn, Imosen, and the Halfling brothers on their Bear-Dogs.

Everyone marveled at the magnificent, boundless sea of trees for a long time. Father Dayn remarked, “I never expected we would find traces of the Ant-men so easily… Following this road will surely lead us to the Ant-men’s lair.”

Charlotte took Victor’s arm as he leaped down from the rock, smiling. “Darling, it’s all thanks to Bobo and Tiantian. Their wayfinding staff is truly magical.”

Guided by the Halflings’ wayfinding staff, the convoy had chosen a direction and arrived here, with the Ant-man monsters’ marching trail right before their eyes. Victor turned and called to the Halflings, “Bobo, Tiantian, come here.”

The two little fellows urged their Bear-Dog mounts to run to Victor’s side, then leaped off and said in unison, “Master, what can Bobo (Tiantian) do for you?”

“Use your wayfinding staff one more time,” Victor said with a nod.

“I’ll throw it.”

“You threw it last time, it’s Tiantian’s turn.”

“No, no, it was my turn last time, but Bel snatched it and threw it, so it’s still my turn.”

“It’s my turn…”

“My turn…”

While the Halfling brothers were still grabbing and arguing, the tall and sturdy Aka easily snatched the wayfinding staff from their hands and passed it to Beldina, who stood behind him.

Bobo and Tiantian were furious, jumping up to stomp on Aka’s big boots, to which Aka responded with a goofy grin.

A triumphant Bel clutched the wayfinding staff, closed her eyes, and spun in place, muttering a “spell” of her own invention before forcefully flinging the staff into the air.

Everyone’s eyes followed the tumbling staff as it fell, bounced a few times on the ground, and finally came to rest with its tip pointing toward the northwest of the forest.

This result was unexpected for most of them. The Ant-man’s marching trail generally ran east-west, but it curved along the southern edge of the sea of trees. By visual estimation, the Ant-men’s lair should be somewhere to the southwest of the forest, the exact opposite of the northwest direction the staff was pointing.

Dayne stepped forward and gazed into the distance, frowning as he murmured, “Could Bel have gotten it wrong? Should we ask Bobo and Tiantian to throw it again?”

The wayfinding staff was an inheritance from the great Halfling adventurer, Barrel. It recorded the places he had explored, including the ruins of an Assyrian Empire temple. And it was precisely those Assyrian temple ruins that Bobo and Tiantian wanted to find, not some Ant-man monster lair.

Victor also needed to go to the Assyrian Empire ruins to search for the Elemental Rune Crystal, but he was not initially optimistic about the search. After all, too much time had passed; finding a crystal made by an ancient Alchemist in the vast jungle was like finding a needle in a haystack. Moreover, Victor couldn’t even be sure if the Elemental Rune Crystal was still intact.

Thus, Victor had prioritized scouting the Ant-man lair, with the search for the Assyrian Empire ruins being a secondary objective. But now that the demons of the Abyss had infiltrated the material plane, it was uncertain whether the human kingdoms’ elite cavalry could even come to the Oak Prairie to annihilate the Ant-man army. Finding the Elemental Rune Crystal had once again become the Randell Expeditionary Force’s primary mission.

If he found the Elemental Rune Crystal that could control the Ant-man queen, Victor could easily neutralize the threat of the Ant-man monsters. On the other hand, if the crystal was indeed damaged, obtaining the Elves’ sacred object that the Assyrians had collected—“Freya’s Tear”—might offer another chance.

Victor had no need to let others know the secrets of the Alchemical Empire and the Elemental Rune Crystal. Dayne had always thought the Randell Expeditionary Force’s only mission was to scout the Ant-man lair.

Victor shot a look at Lord Narsen and then nudged his chin toward the two little fellows.

The Bear of the Northlands understood immediately. He walked over and grabbed the Halflings by the scruff of their necks, lifting them off Aka’s legs and baring his teeth in a threat. “The Master has questions. You must answer honestly.”

Tiantian and Bobo had been happily jumping on Narsen’s large feet when they were suddenly lifted into the air. They were about to throw a tantrum, but seeing Narsen’s tangibly fierce gaze, they were scared into nodding repeatedly.

Seeing that the Halfling brothers had behaved, Narsen finally set them down.

Victor looked out at the endless sea of green and asked coolly, “Bobo, Tiantian, I believe every part of this forest has its own master. Tell me, where is the forest that belongs to Silverhawk City?”

The Halfling brothers pointed north almost simultaneously. Victor thought for a moment, then took a one-handed halberd of refined iron from an Alchemical militiaman and drew a large square on the ground. He then used horizontal and vertical lines to divide the square into different areas.

Everyone gathered around and saw it was a simple map using the Ant-man marching trail as a reference. In a square to the north of the trail, Victor wrote “Silverhawk City.” In the farthest square to the northwest, he wrote “Destination.” He tapped the square representing Silverhawk City with his halberd and said, “Every forest has different powers. This represents Silverhawk City’s sphere of influence… So, the three forest areas directly to the south, southwest, and west of Silverhawk City—which powers do they belong to?”

“Halfling adventurers, don’t tell me you don’t know who Silverhawk City’s neighbors are, do you?” Victor tossed the halberd back to the Alchemical militiaman, clapped his hands, and turned to ask.

“I know, I know…”

“In the three forests to the south, southwest, and west of Silverhawk City, there are Ogre tribes, Goblin tribes, and a Fire Claw Bear-monster Clan,” Tiantian answered first. Immediately after, Bobo added, “Among them, a Hobgoblin named ‘Greenskin Murlok’ is the most detestable. It often sends its minions to raid the small towns and villages south of Silverhawk City.”

Victor nodded and said to the group, “We definitely cannot take the Ant-man’s marching trail, nor can we even get close to it. If we run into Ant-man monsters, not only will we be in mortal danger, but we will also reveal our position and put them on alert. Therefore, the best route is to detour through the forest south of Silverhawk City. The forest monsters there are relatively weak and pose little threat to the expeditionary force. Moreover, the Ant-men avoid Silverhawk City’s Moonlight Tree. If we encounter the Ant-man army, we can retreat into the woodlands controlled by Silverhawk City at any time.”

Charlotte lightly pursed her full, red lips. She knew the Ant-man army posed almost no threat to Victor; he was choosing the route near Silverhawk City for the sake of the others, including herself.

Although Charlotte was not at all happy about Victor entering the sphere of influence of the Silverhawk City Elves, she saw that everyone else’s expressions had relaxed, so she silently accepted Victor’s decision.

Narsen had clearly not thought of this. He asked with confusion, “My lord, how do you know the forest monsters on the outskirts of Silverhawk City are relatively weak?”

The question was so simple that Victor couldn’t be bothered to answer him. Klaus said softly from the side, “What the Master means is that Silverhawk City would not tolerate powerful monster groups in its vicinity. Powerful forest monsters also dislike having their territory right next to Silverhawk City. Therefore, any forest monsters near Silverhawk City either have to defeat Silverhawk City outright or become weakened under its constant attacks.”

Narsen had a sudden realization, then said excitedly, “Does that mean we might run into Elven scouts along the way?”

Victor said in a low voice, “That is indeed a possibility, but I don’t want to cause any trouble… ‘Greenskin Murlok’ should be a weak Goblin Lord. We need to pass through his territory quickly.”

“If he dares to block our path, we’ll just run him over.”

Chapter 778: The Sword Dancer of Greenleaf Village

Wild Bee Valley, south of Greenleaf Village in Silverhawk City.

This low-lying valley was like spring all year round and was named for the great number of wild bees that inhabited it. Although wild bees were notoriously fierce and aggressive, the nectar they painstakingly produced always attracted thieves. Especially in autumn, like now, black bears with their thick hides and dense fur would rather be stung by swarms of bees to tear open the hives and gorge themselves on the nutritious, delicious honey, storing up a thick layer of fat for the coming Hibernation period.

A feeding black bear was even more dangerous than a swarm of wild bees. Every autumn, at least two hundred black bears would visit Wild Bee Valley, and among them might be the even more terrifying Great Bear-monsters. These were demented Bear-monsters, possessing immense strength and untamed wildness, making them the equivalent of savage beasts.

The Elders of Greenleaf Village forbade the Villagers from entering Wild Bee Valley in the autumn. Yet, at this very moment, Iruna Greenleaf was hidden in the canopy of a large tree in the valley. She wore finely crafted, light leather armor, its form-fitting design suitable for combat while also revealing her tall, athletic figure. Her limbs were long and powerful, though they could hardly be called slender or delicate; rather, they were robust with well-defined muscles, which, combined with her full bust and shapely rear, gave her a wild kind of beauty. Her verdant green hair and eyes, exquisite features, and long ears, along with her fit and full-figured physique, were enough to identify her as a female Wild Elf, while her unnaturally grayish-white skin marked her as a Sword Dancer by profession.

Profession—this was the collective term for all combat-class individuals in the Elven Empire. Every adult Wild Elf was an excellent hunter, but not every elf hunter could earn a combat-class title.

The Sword Dancer was a combat class unique to the Elves. They were masters of various close-combat weapons, especially skilled in dual-wielding. Long-term, systematic training had honed their fighting skills to perfection. Because they could only wear light armor, Sword Dancers had to undergo a bodily refinement with a secret potion, which greatly enhanced their strength and agility while also heightening their skin’s sensitivity to air currents. This allowed them to effortlessly evade enemy attacks in the heat of close-quarters combat and inflict terrifying damage upon their opponents.

For an elven light infantryman to advance to a Sword Dancer, Moon Dew was required, which was a considerable burden for a village with only a single Well of Moonlight. Greenleaf Village’s annual supply of Moon Dew was only enough to train three Sword Dancers, and most of them would travel to Silverhawk City to try and join the City Guard, serving as light infantry captains. This not only offered a handsome reward but also the opportunity for further advancement.

Precisely because the positions were scarce and the competition fierce, the Sword Dancers trained in Greenleaf Village were the most talented Wild Elves. At twenty-two years old, the Wild Elf Iruna Greenleaf had only just come of age, yet she was already one of Greenleaf Village’s few Sword Dancers.

She swiveled her long ears, carefully discerning the sounds in the valley. Aside from the wind, the water, and the buzzing drone of the wild bees, Wild Bee Valley was terrifyingly quiet. Not a single one of the black bears that usually came to forage at this time could be seen, yet the scent of blood reached the Sword Dancer’s nose.

Iruna waited patiently in the tree for a while longer. Seeing no other abnormalities, she carefully leaped down, holding two curved swords, and crept silently toward the valley exit.

In a small wood not far from the valley entrance, nine Wild Elf hunters with green hair, green eyes, greatbows, and swords, along with twelve Dwarf warriors clad in scale chainmail, saw Iruna return and all rose to their feet to greet her.

“Iruna, are One-Eyed Grayhide and his Gnoll claws in the valley?” a red-bearded Dwarf asked in a gruff voice, pushing his companions aside.

He was stout and stocky, standing only 1.5 meters tall. A thick beard flowed from his chin to his chest, making him look old, yet it wasn’t braided like that of an elder Dwarf. His eyes were clear and bright, revealing him to be a young Dwarf. But with an edged shield strapped to his muscular arm and a long-handled spiked club as tall as himself in his other hand, he was also a combat professional—a Ridgeguard of the Dwarf race.

Iruna shook her head and said, “One-Eyed Grayhide has been to Wild Bee Valley, but I didn’t find them. They may have already escaped through the other side of the valley.”

“How do you know One-Eyed Grayhide was here and didn’t escape from somewhere else?” The red-bearded Dwarf stuck his heavy spiked club and shield into the ground, freeing his hands to light his pipe.

A flash of violet-blue sword light flickered and vanished. The tinder the Dwarf had just lit was sliced in two. Iruna twirled the curved sword in her left hand in a magnificent flourish, her slender eyebrows raised as she snapped, “Ingot, are you trying to get us all killed? You know how sensitive a Gnoll’s nose is! If One-Eyed Grayhide discovers we’re tracking him, most of us won’t make it out of here alive, and you still dare to light your tobacco? Believe it or not, I’ll cut off your beard!”

“Captain, you can’t do that. I’ll just not smoke,” the young Dwarf Ridgeguard said, decisively choosing to protect his beard over his tobacco. He grumbled under his breath, “No drinking, no smoking… I’ve been holding back for more than ten days. My beard doesn’t smell of ale or tobacco. I don’t feel like a Dwarf at all. I feel like I’m turning into a Halfling. The Dwarf lasses in the village will definitely not like me, just like they don’t like Halflings.”

Tobacco and ale were a Dwarf’s favorite vices. Thinking about how her Dwarf companions hadn’t touched either for over ten days, Iruna’s expression softened, though she still complained, “I told you not to have you ale-kegs tag along. You’re slow, and your footsteps are heavy. You should just go back to Greenleaf Village.”

Ingot said indignantly, “No way! One-Eyed Grayhide killed several of our Dwarves this time. Auntie Lisa, who brews the bubble-wine, even had her neck bitten through… Even if I’m not his match, I’ll never let him go. I’m going to use my iron club to break his legs, and then you can skin him alive to avenge those he killed.”

The other Dwarf guards and Wild Elf hunters also clamored for revenge.

A few days ago, the Gnoll chief One-Eyed Grayhide, a subordinate of the Goblin Lord Greenskin Murlok, had led his claws in a surprise attack on Greenleaf Village, killing over in a dozen Wild Elves and Dwarves who were working outside the village. The Wild Elf hunters and Dwarf guards here were all relatives of the victims.

The Elders of Greenleaf Village had strictly forbidden the village guard from seeking revenge on their own, but they had snuck out anyway, begging the Sword Dancer Iruna and the Ridgeguard Ingot to lead them in tracking One-Eyed Grayhide.

One-Eyed Grayhide was an exceptionally powerful Gnoll. He had terrorized the villages and towns of Silverhawk City’s Southern Realm for over a decade, and no one had been able to stop him. Iruna had no confidence she could defeat the notoriously vicious Gnoll chief. She cautiously instructed, “We can only follow the Gnolls from a distance, try to find their temporary hiding place, and then notify the Silverhawk Guard to come and annihilate them… Don’t even think about attacking.”

A young-faced elven hunter said with an adoring tone, “With Captain Iruna and Guard Captain Ingot here, we’re not afraid of anything!”

Ingot chuckled, picked up his axe-bladed shield and long-handled spiked club, and started walking into the valley.

In truth, Iruna was already having some regrets, but having come this far, she could only bite the bullet and walk past the clueless Dwarf Guard Captain, leading the way into Wild Bee Valley.

The young guards from Greenleaf Village advanced along one side of the valley, using the trees and bushes for cover. When they reached the center of the valley, they saw the carcass of a large bear. Swarms of ants and carnivorous toxic hornets were swarming around the remains, chewing relentlessly. Ingot went forward to inspect the bear’s corpse and said, “Damn it all, this was a demented Great Bear-monster. The Gnolls have eaten more than half of it. No wonder there isn’t a single wild bear in the whole valley.”

“Judging by its state, it’s been dead a day… One-Eyed Grayhide and his Gnoll claws have passed through Wild Bee Valley. They shouldn’t be far.”

Iruna felt a flicker of doubt, though she couldn’t put her finger on what was wrong. Just as she was frowning in thought, a piercing howl echoed through the valley—long, deep, and filled with a cruel, resolute will that drowned out the whistling wind and buzzing bees, leaving only a rumbling echo.

“It’s One-Eyed Grayhide!”

“Damn it, we’ve walked into an ambush!”

The faces of the young Elves and Dwarves of the Greenleaf Village guard turned pale, and their formation fell into disarray. One-Eyed Grayhide’s battle cry alone had nearly shattered their composure.

The Sword Dancer Iruna was the first to recover from the Gnoll chief’s intimidation. She barked sharply, “Don’t panic! Backs to the rock wall, form a defensive formation!”

With the Captain’s order, the befuddled Elf hunters and Dwarf guards immediately sprang into action. They chose a sheer, steep cliff face. The Elf hunters stood with their backs to it, while the Dwarf guards raised their shields and formed a circle around them, creating a standard defensive formation.

The howls of the Gnolls came from all directions. Before long, they saw over a hundred Gnolls swarming toward their position.

Ridgeguard Ingot saw this and couldn’t help but shout, “Iruna, find a way to escape up the cliff! We’ll hold them off!”

It’s useless!

Iruna had already spotted the tall, brawny figure among the Gnolls. It stood at a towering 2.3 meters, its gray fur covered in狰狞的 scars. Its ugly head was like a hyena’s, its right eye glowing with a sinister green light, while its left eye was nothing but a black socket.

One-Eyed Grayhide, the cruelest and most cunning Gnoll chief under the Goblin Lord Murlok. His left eye had been shot out by an elf from Greenleaf Village, which was why he harbored a bone-deep hatred for the village. Ever since pledging allegiance to Greenskin Murlok, he had frequently led his Gnoll underlings to raid Greenleaf Village.

“Enough talk! Watch your breathing and prepare for battle!”

Iruna knew she couldn’t escape One-Eyed Grayhide’s pursuit. She drew her two curved swords, hiding one behind her back and holding the other horizontally before her, assuming an offensive posture.

—Sword Dancer, Hidden Blade Stance.

“Breathe! Breathe! Breathe!”

Ingot stopped trying to persuade her. While shouting, he raised his axe-shield with his left hand and held his long-handled spiked club at an angle with his right. His short, stocky body squatted low, like an indestructible bedrock, presenting a defensive posture.

—Ridgeguard, Ironfoot.

“Moon Goddess, protect us!”

“The Hills! The Hills!”

The other Wild Elf hunters and Dwarf guards drew their bows and raised their shields, preparing for a fight to the death with the Gnoll attackers.

The young guards of Greenleaf Village were well-trained and well-equipped, but the Gnoll attackers were numerous and experienced in battle. Without a moment’s hesitation, they charged madly at the defensive circle formed by the Elves and Dwarves.

The battle erupted in an instant.

A Savage Gnoll with pitch-black fur activated Bloodlust and was the first to charge the Sword Dancer, its speed so great that the Elf hunters didn’t even have time to loose their arrows. Iruna’s gaze was as sharp as a moon-bladed leopard’s. With a nimble turn of her feet, she dodged the Savage Gnoll’s pounce, and the curved sword hidden behind her back swept out, slicing open a wound across its chest and abdomen. The black-furred Gnoll tensed its muscles; its body was unusually tough, and it wasn’t seriously injured. But its vision blurred, and its target suddenly became the Dwarf Ridgeguard. It simply swung its flail down with great force.

Ingot’s axe-shield deflected the whistling flail. His feet didn’t move an inch as his long-handled spiked club swept out and hit the Savage Gnoll’s leg. With a crack, he broke his opponent’s leg bone.

Before the Gnoll could even let out a cry of pain, Sword Dancer Iruna struck with a backhand slash, severing its head from behind.

It was just as the saying goes: the first to charge is the first to die.

However, the black-furred Gnoll’s brave charge had bought time for the others. More than forty Gnolls pressed forward. The Wild Elf archers shot rapidly, their arrows finding their marks, but the Gnolls were too close for them to nock a second arrow. The Gnolls, relying on their tough physiques, tensed their muscles to resist the piercing damage of the arrows and fiercely attacked the elven Sword Dancer at the forefront.

Iruna’s footwork was light and her figure evasive as she dodged and weaved along the turbulent air currents. In the Gnolls’ eyes, this Wild Elf flickered in and out of sight, and they found themselves wounded by her sword without knowing how. So, they vented the rage born from their pain upon the Dwarf guards. The Dwarves could only perform simple shield blocks before swinging their iron clubs to break legs. Led by the Ridgeguard, they faced the Gnolls’ frenzied assault, their line as steady as bedrock, while the Wild Elf hunters behind them calmly sent arrows into the bodies of the Gnolls with broken legs.

Sword Dancers excelled in chaotic battles, and Ridgeguards exceled in defense. The Dwarf guards and Elf hunters coordinated skillfully, steadily holding back the Gnolls’ advance.

But when One-Eyed Grayhide joined the battlefield, a crack immediately appeared in the Greenleaf Village guards’ defensive line.

The Gnoll chief, at the peak of Silver rank, grabbed a fully-armored Dwarf guard with one claw and tossed him to the henchmen behind him. The Gnoll attackers swarmed forward, using their incredibly powerful jaws to bite the iron-clad Dwarf guard to death.

A sharp, curved sword struck from behind, but One-Eyed Grayhide paid no mind to the Sword Dancer’s weak attack and went to grab another Dwarf guard.

An edged shield slashed horizontally, fierce and fast. One-Eyed Grayhide finally took a step back. He had no desire to be hit by the Dwarf Ridgeguard’s shield. The Sword Dancer Iruna seized the opportunity to engage the Gnoll chief, trying to create an opening for the Dwarf Ingot.

With the two combat professionals of Greenleaf Village ganging up on One-Eyed Grayhide, the other Gnolls charged the defensive line of the Greenleaf guards. Another two Dwarf guards and a Wild Elf hunter were dragged out and bitten to death on the spot.

The line had collapsed. The annihilation of the Elves and Dwarves was imminent.

A wind blew across the battlefield, gentle and warm like the natural air flowing through the valley. Yet the frenzied, bloodthirsty Gnolls seemed to have been plunged into an icy storm. They froze stiff, one by one, and fell without warning on the battlefield.

The Greenleaf guards were bewildered, completely at a loss as to what had happened. But the surviving Gnolls felt the touch of Death. The fear of death awakened their selfish nature, and they abandoned their chief, screeching as they scattered in all directions.

However, the gentle wind whimpered as it gathered into streams of cyan-black air, striking the back of every Gnoll like flying black serpents with a series of soft thuds. As if hit by a heavy fist, the exceptionally brawny Gnolls screamed as they staggered forward, their bodies twisting and contorting as if ravished by an Ogre, before they coughed up blood and fell dead on their escape route.

When the first gust of wind had blown, One-Eyed Grayhide had already felt a chill that pierced his bones. He shivered and decisively entered a state of Bloodlust. He took a sword strike from Iruna to his lower back and another to his thigh, but he no longer cared about killing the Wild Elf and the Dwarf. He leaped back more than ten meters and turned to flee.

His speed as he sprinted on all fours was astonishing, but no matter how fast he ran, he couldn’t outrun the wind. Three streams of cyan-black air shot out like lances, striking the Gnoll chief in the back.

It felt like being punched by an Ogre. The Gnoll chief’s knees went weak, but his psychic intuition told him that if he knelt or cried out, he would surely die. Spurred by the choice between survival and death, One-Eyed Grayhide’s powerful heart pulsed violently, and a faint red glow enveloped his body. He had actually activated Deep Bloodlust, stepping into the Gold realm in a single leap.

But he had no will to fight, nor did he feel any joy. The only thought in his mind was to escape the valley. But a slender, graceful figure suddenly appeared, blocking his path.

“Get out of my way!”

The Gnoll chief roared like thunder and launched the most powerful attack of his life at the enemy blocking his path. His blood-red claws tore through the air, carrying sharp Wind Blades as they lunged for the figure before him.

“Insignificant insect… die quietly.”

The newcomer extended a pair of long, slender, beautiful hands, grabbed the Gnoll’s mouth in a flash of movement, and tore its entire head in half, starting from the jaw.

The exchange between the Gnoll and its opponent was too fast for Iruna to see clearly. She only saw a female elf kill the powerful One-Eyed Grayhide with her bare hands. Surprised and uncertain, she called out to the figure, “Sister Ilus Moonsong, is that you?!”

The Sword Dancer was quickly stunned again. The slender, graceful figure casually tossed aside the Gnoll chief’s corpse, revealing herself. She wore a strange horned helm, with a grilled faceplate that covered most of her face. Below the faceplate, her pointed chin and vibrant red lips were so beautiful as to be entrancing. She wore a simple leather half-cuirass, a war skirt, and tall war boots, which only just covered her ample bust and shapely rear. The skin exposed to the air was white and lustrous, as if cloaked in the light of a silver moon.

This was definitely not an elf!

Facing this beautiful and unknown powerhouse, Iruna and Ingot felt a hand named Fear clutch their hearts. They watched her approach step by step, unable to move.

The horned-helmed, elf-like female walked up to the Wild Elf, flicked her hands, and the blood splattered onto the ground, leaving her slender, beautiful hands immaculately white once more. She lifted Iruna’s chin and spoke in a language neither the elf nor the Dwarf could understand:

“Elves are this ugly, yet they can be considered My King’s treasure?”

She suddenly tilted her head as if listening to something, then let go of the elf and Dwarf, who didn’t dare to move. She turned, leaped up the nearby cliff face, and swiftly vanished from the elves’ sight.

Chapter 779: The Wild Elf General

The ordeal Iluna and the others had gone through left the Elders of Greenleaf Village exceptionally nervous. They threw all the young elves who had abandoned their posts into the village jail, strictly forbidding them from leaking anything about what had happened in Wild Bee Valley. They immediately reported the incident to Silverhawk City.

Four days later, Silverhawk City dispatched a mixed company composed of Dwarf Shieldguards, Elf Light Infantry, and Elf Archers, supplemented by a squad of Forest Centaur Raiders, to garrison Greenleaf Village. Among them was a considerable number of Tree Elf combat professionals. Their arrival caused a massive stir among the residents of this remote village.

Wild Elves and Tree Elves were not the same. They differed in appearance, natural talents, lifespan, and way of life; the disparities between them were like those between two different races.

Although Wild Elves could awaken their bloodline and become Tree Elves through the blessing of a Moon Tree, this was a privilege reserved for a very lucky few. Most of the Tree Elves from Silverhawk City looked down on Wild Elves, while Wild Elves always held a sense of envy and reverence for Tree Elves.

No matter how cold or arrogant the exquisitely beautiful and slender Tree Elves were, the residents of Greenleaf Village afforded them the highest courtesy, voluntarily offering them the best houses and finest food in the village, while not daring to disturb them too much. As for the Wild Elves, Dwarves, and Forest Centaurs who accompanied them, they received the villagers’ warmest welcome.

Watching her inexplicably excited neighbors on the street, the Sword Dancer Iluna thought mockingly: If this bunch of unsophisticated country folk knew that the Sixth Princess of Silverhawk City had also come to Greenleaf Village, would they still be speaking so loudly?

They definitely wouldn’t dare. Even the Village Elders didn’t dare to look up at the princess-shaman… Iluna sighed silently, lowered her head, and turned into a small alley. She arrived at a dilapidated wooden house, used an old copper key to open the rusty lock, and pushed the door open to enter.

This was a house Greenleaf Village used for storing miscellaneous items, filled with all sorts of broken tools, leaving almost no room to stand. The smell of decay and the thick layer of dust inside made Iluna frown with an expression of disgust.

The Sixth Princess of Silverhawk City had just finished questioning her about her experience in Wild Bee Valley, after which she was freed. She and Ingot were, after all, combat professionals from Greenleaf Village, a class with status even in Silverhawk City. The others were not so lucky and were locked back in their cells, partly as punishment for leaving without permission, and partly to prevent them from spouting nonsense outside.

The Chief Elder of Greenleaf Village had repeatedly warned Iluna not to reveal anything about the Silverhawk princess to anyone and handed her the key to the storeroom. Because her little house was now occupied by the Tree Elves from Silverhawk City, Iluna, the Captain of the Greenleaf Village guard and a Sword Dancer, could only stay in the storeroom.

In truth, she could have stayed with a villager she knew well, but that would have gone against the Chief Elder’s intention in giving her the storeroom key. Iluna wasn’t afraid of angering the village elders; she was just distraught and wanted to be alone.

There was a small attic above the storeroom where she could rest. As Iluna made her way towards it, she couldn’t help but compare the Sixth Princess to the elf-like female from Wild Bee Valley. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the Sixth Princess of Silverymoon City was inferior to her, in both power and beauty.

This conclusion surprised even Iluna herself. To Wild Elves, the princesses of Silverhawk City were descendants of the Moon Goddess, a divine race with black hair and black eyes, Priestesses of the Moon Goddess, and Guardians of the Moon Tree. No one could be more beautiful or more powerful than them. But she also couldn’t deny that the elf-like female who had slain One-Eyed Grayhide with her bare hands had left a deep sense of fear in her heart, making her feel an urge to submit to her.

For the past few days, her shadow had constantly flickered in Iluna’s mind. She would wake up from nightmares, her spirit feeling dazed and weary, her mood anxious and unsettled. She knew she had to overcome this fear in her heart, yet she felt completely helpless.

“Iluna, where has your vigilance gone? It seems the experience in Wild Bee Valley really frightened you, my poor little sister.”

A hoarse voice came from the attic just overhead. Iluna was startled at first, then she鑽進閣樓的洞口, saw a figure both strange and familiar, and exclaimed with a mix of surprise and joy, “Sister Iluth, is that you? You’re finally back…”

Sitting on the small bed in the attic was an elf in brown leather armor. She had short green hair and features that bore a slight resemblance to Iluna’s, but her facial lines were rough and deep-set. Her eyebrows weren’t plucked into the delicate shape favored by Wild Elf females but were left naturally thick above her large eyes, making her look more like a robust male Wild Elf. Her thin lips exuded an air of cold severity. Most peculiar of all were her mismatched eyes, a rare trait: her left eye was the common green of a Wild Elf, while her right was the blue of a Tree Elf.

She looked coldly at the teary-eyed Iluna, her voice as harsh as the clash of swords. “You weak, pitiful thing! I cheated back then to get you a training spot as a Sword Dancer, hoping you would improve. Instead, you’ve disappointed me.”

Iluna’s pale face instantly flushed red. She forced her tears back and roared, “Shut up, you crude Barbarian Elf! Who asked you to cheat for me? I could have won the Sword Dancer spot on my own merit, and I’m a Tier 3 Sword Dancer now!”

“What? A Tier 3 Sword Dancer wants to fight me, a Tier 5 War Dancer? I’ll sit right here and let you attack. If you can make me stand up, I’ll count it as your win.” The green-haired, heterochromatic elf beckoned to Iluna with a finger, her voice dripping with provocation.

Iluna looked at the black magical tattoos on her cheeks—markings that covered her entire body, the symbol of an elven War Dancer—and finally deflated, saying, “I can’t beat you… You’re a general of the Silverhawk City Guard, the famous Iluth Moonsong. I’m just the Captain of the Greenleaf Village guard, a little Sword Dancer.”

Iluth Moonsong was a legend in Greenleaf Village, and a legend in Silverhawk City as well. This War Dancer, who had emerged from Greenleaf Village, was the only Wild Elf general in Silverhawk City in several hundred years. She ranked second among the six generals of Silverhawk City, surpassed only by the Hill Dwarf General, Warhammer Kolroch. The other four generals, including a Wind Dancer of noble Tree Elf birth, were no match for her.

Sword Dancers advanced to War Dancers, and War Dancers advanced to Wind Dancers. For Iluth, a Wild Elf War Dancer, to dominate Tree Elf Wind Dancers showed just how extraordinarily talented she was. Rumor had it that very few, even among Silverhawk City’s princesses and Greater Elves, could defeat Iluth.

Such rumors couldn’t be verified, as the noble Moon Elves would not deign to accept a challenge from a lower-class elf, but Iluth Moonsong was indeed an anomaly among the Elves.

The Elves were famous for their beauty, but this referred to the Moon Elves and Tree Elves; the Wild Elves merely had a Nature for appreciating beauty. If one were to score the looks of elves, Moon Elves would be a 100, Tree Elves an 80, and Wild Elves would have an average score of only 60. Iluth would be a 40 at most, no higher.

She was obsessed with power and slaughter, with no interest in beauty whatsoever. Yet, she had rarely and naturally awakened her Tree Elf bloodline, one of her eyes turning blue. However, she had refused the blessing ceremony from a Silverhawk princess and was unwilling to completely transform into a Tree Elf.

One must understand that, besides beauty and longevity, Tree Elves possessed talents that Wild Elves envied beyond measure—Blind Sense and Wind Walk. For a War Dancer to advance to Wind Dancer, they had to master both these talents. General Iluth Moonsong had no love for beauty and refused to advance into a more powerful Wind Dancer. No one could understand her way of thinking, and no one dared to mock her to her face, only calling her a crude Barbarian Elf behind her back.

Iluna couldn’t understand it either, but from the bottom of her heart, she idolized this ill-tempered and eccentric older sister of hers.

Iluth Moonsong was the pride of Greenleaf Village, and even more so, the pride of the Wild Elves.

“Ha, so you finally realize you’re just a ‘little’ Tier 3 Sword Dancer. And you dared to lead a group of trash to track a Tier 4 Gnoll leader?” Iluth Moonsong sneered without mercy.

Iluna was silent for a moment before saying dejectedly, “I wanted to become as strong as you… Only by challenging stronger opponents can one improve.”

The Wild Elf general crossed her long legs, stretching them out on the bed, and wagged a finger at Iluna. “My poor little sister, do you have some misunderstanding of what it means to be strong?”

“The meaning of strength is to exclusively bully those weaker than you. If you can always bully the weak, you are an invincible, powerful being. That is how to be like me.”

Iluna was dumbfounded. In disbelief, she stammered, “No, that’s not what you’re like, Sister Moonsong. You, you…”

“Me what? You think it’s easy to always bully the weak?” Iluth sneered. “I once led the Greenleaf Village guard to slaughter One-Eyed Grayhide’s clan. I was the one who shot his eye out. I defeated an Ogre War-Soldier, cut off its head, and hung it from the village’s arrow tower. I’ve killed Goblins, Bear-monsters, Wild Elves, and Grayiron Dwarves. They were all weaklings defeated by me. Tell me, when have you ever seen me challenge an opponent stronger than myself?”

“If you had seen such a thing…” Iluth pointed at her own chest and demanded, “would a ghost be talking to you right now?”

Iluna blinked her green eyes, and a wave of realization washed over her. “I understand…”

“You understand my ass! Stop trying that Halfling talent for sycophancy. What I said is simple: I only bully the weak.”

Iluth crudely cut her sister off, her voice full of irritation. “Even an Ogre wouldn’t challenge an opponent stronger than itself. You’re dumber than an Ogre… To be able to always bully the weak, you first have to know how weak you are and how strong your opponent is. Just like that Other-raced female in Wild Bee Valley who tore One-Eyed Grayhide apart. I didn’t even dare to spy on her, let alone show myself.”

“Ah?! Sister, you were following us the whole time?”

“What else?” The Wild Elf general’s eyelids drooped as she spoke coldly. “One-Eyed Grayhide toyed with you for over ten days. If he hadn’t sensed danger, he would have eaten all you fools long ago. And it’s thanks to you lot acting as bait that I was able to keep an eye on him from the shadows.”

“You… you just watched as my squad members were killed by Gnolls?” Iluna cried out in anger. “They were all residents of Greenleaf Village! You watched them grow up! They saw you as the village hero!”

“I am indeed the hero of Greenleaf Village.” Iluth nodded, then her tone shifted. “So what? Because I’m a hero, I have to save them? I’m still the hero of Greenleaf Village even if I don’t. Only a fool like you would run off to chase One-Eyed Grayhide after they pleaded a little, nearly getting yourself killed.”

“You don’t need to blame yourself for those dead Wild Elves and the Dwarf. They challenged a stronger opponent as weaklings; it’d be a miracle if they didn’t die. You were just lucky to survive… What, what’s with that look? Don’t think for a second that I would have definitely saved you. I wouldn’t have been able to.”

Iluna let out a heavy breath and shook her head. “I don’t believe you.”

Iluth Moonsong stared at her for a moment, then also shook her head. “Seeing as you’re my sister, I’ll spell it out for you… Gnolls hold grudges. One-Eyed Grayhide harasses Greenleaf Village every year, and every year, people die by his claws. I caused this trouble, so it’s my responsibility to solve it. Unfortunately, One-Eyed Grayhide never gave me a chance to kill him. The moment he smelled danger, he would flee. It wouldn’t be hard for me to hunt him down with my subordinates, but he would escape to the Goblin Lord’s side, which would require Silverhawk City to send a large army to encircle them. Silverhawk City is unwilling to start a war with the greenskins over a few dead Wild Elves and Dwarves from Greenleaf Village. So, I never had a way to deal with One-Eyed Grayhide.”

“It just so happened that you all rashly went to track him this time, concealing my presence. He sensed danger but couldn’t identify its source. He led you around in circles, observed you in secret several times, and mistakenly believed that weaklings like you were the source of the danger. He finally decided to eat you all in Wild Bee Valley.”

“The real battle actually began more than ten days ago, and you were all completely unaware of the deadly struggle.”

“You are my sister, but if I killed One-Eyed Grayhide, Greenleaf Village wouldn’t have to suffer deaths every year. Iluna, what I could do for you at that moment was very limited. That’s the truth.”

Iluna’s heart was filled with conflict. She said resentfully, “You did it for the peace of Greenleaf Village… but I’m your sister! You should have done something for me!”

“So I cheated,” the general of Silverhawk City said, shrugging her powerfully built shoulders. “I forced the old men in the village to designate the Sword Dancer training spot for you. I taught you how to be a selfish yet responsible guard captain, but it seems you haven’t learned yet, have you?”

Iluna’s expression softened. After all, she was still alive, and all things considered, it was thanks to her sister using trickery to secure a Sword Dancer spot for her.

“One-Eyed Grayhide is cunning and suspicious. If he had activated his Bloodlust against you and Ingot, you would have been killed on the spot. I wouldn’t have been able to rescue you in time. But he wanted to save his Bloodlust power for escaping, so he decided to kill the weakest guards first. That would have given me a chance to protect you and kill him.”

As she spoke, the general from Silverymoon City pressed her lips tightly together, pausing for a moment before continuing, “I never expected someone to intervene to protect nobodies as insignificant and weak as you…”

Iluna nodded, a lingering fear in her heart. She said with a sigh, “Yes, when I think about it now, that female’s methods were like a miracle. She killed nearly one hundred Gnoll warriors in one move and then easily finished off One-Eyed Grayhide… At that time, One-Eyed Grayhide should have been Tier 5 like you, right? Sister, were you really confident you could kill a Tier 5 Gnoll Berserker?”

Iluth thought for a moment, then nodded. “We were both Tier 5, but he was ultimately a weakling among Tier 5s, still unable to perfectly control his surging Bloodlust. I could have killed him. But give him some time to familiarize himself with his new power, and it would be a different story… That Other-raced female is truly terrifying. I suspect no one in Silverhawk City could bully her. Even if the Hill General and Elder Windsong encountered her, the best choice would be to avoid each other.”

“However, the truly terrifying one was the person who rescued you. They are so powerful it’s to the point of Despair.”

Iluna’s face went pale with shock. “Wasn’t the Other-raced female the powerful one who saved us?”

The Silverhawk general shook her head, then nodded. Her voice was hoarse, but her eyes burned with intensity as she said, “She was perhaps a subordinate of that powerful one… As for that mysterious figure…”

“They must be a Tier 9 invincible expert!”

Chapter 780: Demigod

The ancient Elven Empire had a strict system for the succession of power, divided into tiers based on Combat Breathing Methods and racial talents. This system encompassed two aspects: combat profession tiers and life tiers.

For example, Wild Elves are Tier 2 beings. The Sword Dancer’s Combat Breathing Method has three levels. Iluna is a Tier 2 Wild Elf and a Tier 3 Sword Dancer.

A War Dancer, an advancement from Sword Dancer, starts at a minimum of a Tier 2 combat profession and can generally reach Tier 4. The prerequisite for the Wind Dancer legacy, however, is being a Tier 3 Tree Elf. They start as a Tier 3 combat profession, and their Combat Breathing Method also has three levels, meaning a Tier 3 Tree Elf can raise their Wind Dancer profession to a Tier 5 standard.

The Elven Empire always produces a few geniuses who can break through the legacy limits of a combat profession’s breathing method, elevating their profession to entirely new heights. Iluth Moonsong is a classic example. Her combat profession has already surpassed that of a Tier 4 War Dancer. After an assessment, the Council of Silverhawk City confirmed Iluth Moonsong as a Tier 2 Wild Elf and a Tier 5 War Dancer.

Theoretically, the path of a combat professional is endless. In practice, however, few people obsess over breaking the limits of their profession. This is because the combat profession system is intrinsically linked to racial talents. Broadly speaking, a combat profession is a set of skills for applying one’s innate talents, making racial talent the very core of the system.

Wild Elves lack the talents of Wind Walk and Blind Sense, making it impossible for them to become Wind Dancers. Historically, there was once a Wild Elf Sword Dancer whose path to advancement was blocked. He deliberately blinded himself and became a renowned Tier 6 Sword Dancer. Undeniably, such an extreme path grew ever narrower. In the end, that powerful elf won the respect of the Empress Regnant, who made an exception and performed the Sun Tree’s blessing ceremony for him. Not only did this restore his sight, but it also transformed him into a Tier 5 Moon Elf.

In contrast, Tree Elves and Moon Elves, with their powerful innate talents, can often hold the professions of Wind Dancer and Wind Walk Archer simultaneously.

It is said that the Empress Regnant of Aylanta is a Tier 5 Moon Elf who is also an eighth-tier Moon Goddess Shaman, a seventh-tier Wind Walk Archer, and a fifth-tier Wind Dancer.

The “Tier 9” Iluth Moonsong mentioned must refer to a life tier. In the Elven Empire, the Sun Tree of Aylanta is a Tier 9 life form. There’s a more common and understandable term for a Tier 9 life form—Demigod.

Though Iluna idolized her sister, she had a mind of her own. She shook her head and said, “How is that possible? Besides the great and warm Sun Tree, there can’t possibly be any other Tier 9 Demigods now.”

“Alright, saying It is a Tier 9 Demigod might have been an exaggeration… Sit down first, and we’ll talk.”

Moonsong moved her legs aside, letting her little sister sit on the edge of the bed. She paused for a moment, then continued, “But I have my reasons for saying so… Greenskin Murlok is finished. Right while you were tracking One-Eyed Grayhide, Woodstrider Hunter scouts observed signs of a fire in Greenskin Murlok’s territory. When they moved in for a closer look, they discovered that the Greenskin Lord’s main camp had been attacked by an unknown, powerful enemy. The camp was filled with countless beastmen corpses.”

“The Silverhawk City Council was shocked by this news. Elder Windsong, the Third Princess, and Agra Longbeard the Prophet led the elites of the Eye of the Mysteries to the scene to survey it… The reality was even more shocking than the Woodstrider Hunters’ report. The Greenskin Lord was dead. His Ogre bodyguards, Crow-Throat and Meatskewer; his pet sabertooth tiger, Bloodfang; his eleven tamed, mindless Bear-monsters; and his Kobold chief, Browntail—all of them were dead. Over three thousand seven hundred beastmen corpses were counted at the scene.”

The names of the monsters that spilled from Moonsong’s lips made Iruna’s blood run cold. Greenskin Murlok’s Ogre bodyguards and his sabertooth tiger, Bloodfang, were more powerful than One-Eyed Grayhide. Even those mindless Great Bear-monsters and the Kobold Browntail were no easy foes; at the very least, Greenleaf Village stood no chance against them.

Now, all these monsters that had struck fear into the hearts of the Wild Elves and Dwarven villagers were dead. A sense of unreality washed over Iluna.

Moonsong saw through her sister’s thoughts and sighed, shaking her head. “Unbelievable, isn’t it? Even Elder Windsong didn’t dare believe the report brought back by the Woodstrider Hunters at first, let alone you… I went to see it a few days ago. Do you know how those monsters died?”

Iluna shivered, her voice turning hoarse. “Were… were they frozen to death?”

Iluth Moonsong was silent for two seconds before nodding. “That’s right. Just like what we saw in Wild Bee Valley, more than half of Greenskin Murlok’s Goblins, Gnolls, and Kobolds were frozen to death. The Ogre Crow-Throat was burned to a char by fire. The Ogre Meatskewer had a huge hole corroded through his chest by some poisonous liquid, and was then torn in two by sharp claws. The sabertooth tiger Bloodfang was minced into pieces by a void wind element; its remains were incomplete—hmm, possibly eaten—but the remaining parts showed clear signs of lightning strikes. Of the eleven Great Bear-monsters, some were burned to ash, others were covered in a layer of frost and then killed by some giant creature. Of course, their remains also showed signs of being gnawed on… The most baffling was the death of the Kobold, Browntail. He seemed to have put up no resistance. His body was relatively intact, but his most valuable possession, his heart, had been dug out. Longbeard the Prophet said he was scared to death… literally.”

Moonsong sat up straight and said in a low voice, “As far as I know, there is one type of creature that can scare a Tier 5 Kobold chief to death… A Dragon.”

Just like in the human kingdoms, the Elven Empire had many legends about Dragons. The difference was that human descriptions of Dragons were mostly rumors distorted by hearsay, whereas the Elves had a better understanding of these extraordinary behemoths. After all, in the distant past, the Dragon race was once an ally of the Elven Empire, helping them fight off invasions from High Goblins and Abyssal demons. Even now, a clan of Emerald Dragons still resided in the primeval forests near Aylanta. The Empress Regnant’s Dragon Beast cavalry were their dragon-blooded kin. When necessary, the Emerald Dragons would aid the Empress Regnant in protecting the Sun Tree against powerful invaders. This was because the ancestors of the Emerald Dragons had made a sacred and ancient pact with the Moon Goddess, allowing them to receive the Sun Tree’s blessing to maintain their bloodline and form.

Iluth Moonsong was not privy to the secrets of the Emerald Dragons, but that didn’t prevent the two sisters from acquiring knowledge about Dragons in general.

Dragons were high on the scale of life tiers. Even the non-sapient Emerald Dragon Beasts were natural Tier 4 life forms. The legendary sapient Dragons were at least Tier 6 beings, while old Dragons were typically Tier 8, and there were even Tier 9 ancient Dragons. In truth, there wasn’t a vast difference in innate power between Tier 8 and Tier 9 beings. As far as Iluna knew, a Tier 8 Dragon could form a pact with a “weaker” sapient life form, bestowing upon them a portion of their draconic power.

The history of the Elven Empire featured legendary heroes who had allied themselves with Dragons. Their statues still stood beneath the Sun Tree in Aylanta to this day.

Iluna recalled the female in the strange horned helm from Wild Bee Valley, and that heart-stopping terror. She couldn’t help but tremble as she spoke, “She… she’s a Dragon-Blessed Rider?”

Iluth Moonsong’s expression was grim as she shook her head. “We can’t be certain, but it’s a strong possibility. After all, none of us have ever seen a real Dragon. However, the signs of battle at the Greenskin camp indicate that the attackers were very few in number. We only found the claw prints of five large, upright creatures. The footprints of four of the attackers resembled those of a Kobold Lord, but much larger. I estimate they were over three meters tall and possessed a breath ability: one of fire, two of frost and poison, and one of a rare wind-and-lightning breath. A Kobold Lord can only spew liquid fire, but the scorch marks left at the scene far surpassed the power of liquid fire, incinerating even rock and soil into a crystalline state. If the frost breath hadn’t extinguished that fire, the surrounding forest would have likely gone up in flames.”

“Fire, frost and poison, and wind-and-lightning—three kinds of breath attacks. That should make you think of something, right?”

Iluna composed herself, her long, straight eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Three kinds of breath, from three types of dragon-blooded monsters? That doesn’t make sense. Was it a Red Dragon, a Green Dragon, and a Blue Dragon traveling together, each with their own dragon-blooded retainers?”

“That’s what’s so strange.” The General of Silverhawk City shook her head. “One Dragon would have been enough to deal with Greenskin Murlok. Three Dragons joining forces to attack a tribe of forest beastmen is just unbelievable. The most ridiculous part is, they plundered the Greenskin Lord’s food stores for the winter…” Pausing, she adopted a jesting tone to lighten the mood. “To slaughter an entire beastman tribe for some food… have the proud and greedy Dragons really fallen that low?”

Iluna’s tense mood relaxed slightly. She asked curiously, “You mentioned four dragon-blooded retainers. Was the other one a retainer of a Brass Dragon?”

Iluth’s expression turned peculiar. She shook her head and said, “It seemed to be some kind of mutated giant ape, about four meters tall, but definitely not a giant white ape… Dragons enslave all sorts of bizarre creatures. Who knows what kind of monster that was?” Her tone shifted again. “The good news is, Agra the Dwarf Prophet has confirmed that the dragon-blooded monsters have left the nearby forests. They headed west. The Silverhawk City Council has decided not to provoke them, to avoid bringing trouble upon ourselves.”

“The bad news is, with Greenskin Murlok gone, the balance in the forest has been broken. The scattered forest monsters will fight amongst themselves to redefine their spheres of influence. They’ll also be worried about food for the winter, so they’ll definitely attack the villages and towns in the southern part of Silverhawk City, including Greenleaf Village. The Silverhawk Guard brought by the Sixth Princess will be stationed in Greenleaf Village until the monster uprising has completely subsided.”

Iluna let out a huge sigh of relief. She was the Captain of the Guard for Greenleaf Village. Although the position had been arranged by her General sister, Iluna Greenleaf was very fond of the job, because Greenleaf Village was her home.

Her eyes filled with anticipation as she asked Moonsong, “Sister, will you stay in Greenleaf Village for the winter?”

Iluth Moonsong shook her head, her expression calm. “No, I’m preparing to track those dragon-blessed monsters with a few good friends.”

“Are you out of your mind?!” The Sword Dancer shot up from the edge of the bed, her head hitting the ceiling. Aghast, she cried, “Their master could be a demigod-tier Dragon! With a single breath, He could kill you! Don’t you always bully the weak? Why would you go track Its retainers?”

Iluth also stood up. She was a bit shorter than Iluna, but she looked down at her younger sister with a commanding gaze. “I have reasons why I must go,” she said in a heavy tone. “Unless you come with me, I won’t tell you certain secrets. What I want to say is this: you have a scar in your heart left by fear. Only by finding that dragon-blessed female can you overcome this fear. Otherwise, you will never be able to advance in this lifetime.”

“Of course, you can refuse. This is indeed very dangerous. However, that demigod saved you. Though your abilities are poor, Its goodwill towards you might, at a critical moment, persuade It to forgive weaklings like us. That is why I am inviting you, a mere Tier 3 Sword Dancer, to come along.”

“Iluna, my little sister, think it over. If I don’t have your answer by tomorrow night, I’m leaving.” Moonsong pushed past Iluna and bent down to head towards the stairs leading out of the attic.

As a Wild Elf General, her position in Silverhawk City was actually quite difficult. Competitors with powerful backgrounds were always putting obstacles in her path. To gain a firm foothold in Silverhawk City, Iluna Moonsong had pledged her allegiance to the Fourth Princess. It was precisely because the young Fourth Princess had little power within the Silverhawk City Council that she was willing to recruit talented young individuals from humble backgrounds.

General Moonsong’s allegiance to the Fourth Princess immediately put the Second Princess on alert. She reacted swiftly, frequently suppressing the forces under the Fourth Princess’s command and proposing that a Moon Tree blessing ceremony be held for Iluth Moonsong. This was something Iluth could not accept. Every elf could only receive the blessing once, and Iluth yearned for the Sun Tree’s blessing, not the Moon Tree’s.

As it happened, the Empress Regnant was preparing to select a batch of heir candidates from the various autonomous city-states. The young people gathered around the Fourth Princess were all rubbing their hands in eagerness, wanting to secure this opportunity for her. If the Fourth Princess became a candidate, they too could go to Aylanta and have a chance to receive the Sun Tree’s blessing.

Iluth Moonsong’s friend, Aikelo, a Tier 4 Dwarf prophet, had divined a few opportunities. Following the clues from the divination, they learned of a lost sacred object of the Elves—Freya’s Tear. And so, the two brothers, the Tier 5 adventurers Bobo and Tiantian, stole the relic staff of the great adventurer Oakbarrel and snuck out of the city to find the Elven sacred object.

Moonsong and the Fourth Princess were not so naive as to take Aikelo’s divination as anything more than a joke. They never expected the two rash fools, Bobo and Tiantian, to actually run off. Although the combat prowess of Halfling adventurers was pathetic, they had no problem protecting themselves. The key issue was that tracking Halfling adventurers was incredibly difficult, and it was even more impossible for Aikelo’s divination interpretation skills to find Bobo and Tiantian. The Fourth Princess and Moonsong had no choice but to give up the search for the two brothers, treating it as if they had gone out to complete their adventurer’s Trial.

The recent series of events had made Iluth Moonsong realize that Aikelo’s divination might have been accurate after all. Following the clues from the divination, they had successively uncovered some little-known details, and could now basically confirm that the brothers Bobo and Tiantian were with those mysterious people.

Their destination was the lost Temple of Yasurta!

Silverhawk City’s Chief Diviner, Agra Longbeard, had already confirmed that the outsiders who destroyed the Greenskin camp held no malice toward Silverhawk City, and that they had already left and would not return to cause trouble.

Such terrifyingly powerful beings were surely just passing through; it was unlikely they had their sights set on the Greenskin’s territory. But this matter was too significant. As a precaution, the Silverhawk City Council had already reported to Aylanta, hoping the Empress Regnant would send a few powerful individuals to visit Silverhawk City. At the same time, they strictly sealed off the news to prevent anyone from tracking the strange powerhouses and bringing disaster upon Silverhawk City.

The Fourth Princess could not defy the decision of the Silverhawk Council, but Iluth Moonsong was ambitious, planning to secretly follow the demigod-level powerhouse. She and her sister Iluna had personally witnessed the demigod’s might and had also felt a sliver of its goodwill.

She invited her sister to come along for the reason she stated: even a stray dog will follow someone who feeds it. A demigod’s goodwill is so precious. To not seize this golden opportunity would make one a coward, worse than any stray dog. Besides, the two clowns Bobo and Tiantian were probably with that demigod as well.

Iluth had a faint feeling that it was no coincidence the demigod had passed through the forests near Silverhawk City. It was even less likely that It was persuaded by Bobo and Tiantian’s words. Since It had intervened to save Iluna, it could be seen as an expression of goodwill towards Silverhawk City. That being the case, she had all the more reason to take her sister to see what was going on.

Doing so was certainly fraught with great risk, but the demigod’s goodwill was worth the gamble!

Iluna Greenleaf lacked Moonsong’s vision and wisdom, but she trusted her sister. Looking at her back, she stated decisively:

“I’ll go with you!”

Iluth Moonsong was right about one thing: Victor’s casual rescue of the Wild Elves and Dwarf guards was indeed an act of goodwill towards the elves of Silverhawk City. But his effort to annihilate the Goblin Lord had pushed him to his limits; it was not as effortless as Silverhawk City believed.

Chilling Wind was specifically designed to subdue mentally weak enemies, but dealing with the herd mentality of several thousand beastmen was quite draining. Even weak Goblins knew to huddle together for warmth when they felt the cold; the body heat of their companions could bolster their courage and resist the psychic damage of Chilling Wind. It was only thanks to the four Dragonkin handmaidens transforming into their Dragon-forms and crushing the willpower of the weaker beastmen with the Dragon race’s aura of fear that Victor’s Chilling Wind managed to wipe out several thousand common beastmen in one fell swoop.

As for the more powerful Ogres and Bear-monsters, they mostly died to the Dragonkin’s breath attacks. A few beastmen were torn apart by Philip II.

Although many beastmen escaped into the forest, Victor’s achievements were staggering, appearing simply incredible to Silverhawk City.

Faced with an incomparably powerful and unknown entity, the elves of Silverhawk City would either be on tenterhooks, cautiously on guard, or they would try to establish a relationship and curry favor.

In reality, Victor was not as powerful as Silverhawk City imagined. At the very least, he couldn’t take down the entire city with his own strength. His Highness Randell was self-aware enough to know this. To avoid provoking Silverhawk City, he casually rescued a group of Wild Elves and Dwarves, releasing a sliver of goodwill. After all, re-establishing diplomatic relations with the ancient Elven Empire to jointly deal with the Ant-men and the invading Abyssal demons was his established strategy.

Having opened the logistics and supply line through the Great Marsh, Silverhawk City held great significance for the Gambis Kingdom.

Victor’s move to wipe out the Goblin Lord Murlok was not to show off his power, but because his party was genuinely facing a supply shortage.

The autumn forest was rich in produce, with ripe wild fruit ready for the picking, but the food resources in a small area had their limits and were simply insufficient to meet the needs of the Randell Expeditionary Force. Moreover, Victor had no time to let his troops stop to gather and hunt. They had abandoned their cumbersome wagons, with soldiers carrying supplies on their backs as they trekked through the dense forest, which increased their physical exertion. After more than thirty consecutive days of marching, the expedition’s food supplies had fallen below the safety line. Victor decided to simply raid a nearby Goblin Lord to replenish the Randell Expeditionary Force’s food stores.

Robbing a beastman tribe was more efficient than gathering food themselves, but it did not solve the problem of difficult supply lines.

As the Randell Expeditionary Force ventured deeper into the Endless Forest, the scenery changed drastically. Ancient trees so large they would take two or three people to encircle were everywhere. The beastman tribes they encountered were also more powerful. Even if their chiefs sensed the deadly danger from the outsiders, their will to resist was resolute, willing to fight Victor to the death for the sake of their tribe’s survival through the winter.

Victor had Imosen the Wizard go out and negotiate with the beastman tribes through bluffs and deception, attempting to coerce them into handing over some food, but this was often ineffective.

The Randell Expeditionary Force had traveled all the way from the Centaur Hills to the Endless Forest, not to fight beastmen. Wasting precious time and the lives of his soldiers on plunder was clearly not worth it. Considering the many dangers that lay ahead, Victor needed to preserve his strength as much as possible to deal with unexpected situations. It was best not to use Chilling Wind if he could avoid it. He had no choice but to reorganize the marching formation of his troops, expanding the reconnaissance radius of his scouting parties so they could forage separately, thereby alleviating the supply pressure on the entire force.

The left-flank scouting party led by Brandon and Red Wolf now consisted of nineteen Source-blood militia, six veteran Elite Guards, four craftsmen, and four sword-wielding handmaidens. The scouting party was equipped with two Alchemical Dragon-Lizards, six Alchemical Warhounds, and five Bear-Dogs. They were a full thirty kilometers away from Victor’s main force.

Although the Dragonkin handmaiden Fugerui could confirm the distance between the left-flank scouts and the main force, Brandon and Red Wolf could not see any sign of the expedition with their naked eyes. They had been walking alone in the woods for more than ten days, and their tension was constantly mounting. This was especially true for Red Wolf. Among the Ferocious warriors, he was the weakest and was by nature sensitive and suspicious. He would become paranoid even when encountering ordinary jungle wolves. Brandon always felt that working with this guy was a disgrace.

“Wait, Brandon. Something’s not right.” The lean and wiry Red Wolf stopped in his tracks as usual, giving a low warning.

Brandon, lounging in the saddle of his Alchemical Dragon-Lizard, said lazily, “What is it now? A wolf or a forest leopard? Should I let Imosen’s little pets out to have a meal of wolf and cat meat?”

Red Wolf was long accustomed to the young Knight’s ridicule. His expression was grave now, his pupils constricting to pinpoints as he strained to see into the dimly lit forest. He said in a low voice, “I feel danger approaching from the left.”

Brandon was about to retort when he felt a tug on the corner of his tunic. He turned to look at the sword-wielding handmaiden sitting behind him and heard her whisper, “My lord, we’ve been in this part of the forest for about fifteen minutes, and we haven’t heard a single sound.”

Brandon pricked up his ears. Besides the whistling of the wind through the treetops, there were indeed no bird calls or animal sounds. The shadowy, gloomy forest was deathly silent. His gaze moved past the charming and graceful sword-wielding handmaiden to the back of the second Dragon-Lizard, where the powerful Lady Fugerui was sound asleep. She spent almost the entire day sleeping on the Dragon-Lizard’s back and disliked being disturbed.

Brandon relaxed slightly, but his sword-wielding handmaiden gently advised, “Master once said that Lady Fugerui won’t react to ordinary dangers. Darling, you should still be careful.”

What Fugerui considered an “ordinary danger” was a cause for concern for others. In other words, when the Dragonkin handmaiden sensed danger, the scouting party shouldn’t hesitate; fleeing was the best course of action.

Brandon nodded, gripping his Adamantine longsword and shield. He jumped off the Dragon-Lizard, halted the party, and quickly gave orders, “Relay the command! Pull back the vanguard and rearguard! Hold position and be on alert! Release the Aberrant Rats and the warhounds to search the area.”

The commander’s order was executed immediately. The Source-blood militia opened the simple wooden cages towed by the Dragon-Lizards and released all the half-mature Aberrant Rats inside. They automatically scattered to forage. The Alchemical Warhounds and Bear-Dogs also began patrolling the surroundings in packs.

Before long, the warning growl of an Alchemical Warhound came from the woods to the left.

“Second squad, scout that direction, but do not engage! The rest of you, prepare for battle! Recall the warhounds and the Aberrant Rats!” Brandon commanded loudly.

Just then, the beautiful and enchanting Fugerui finally opened her eyes. Her magnificent green eyes had turned into the vertical pupils of a dragon. She sat up straight and said unhurriedly, “To the left. Something big is coming.”

Chapter 781: Monster in the Black Forest

The trees in this forest were immense, their crowns spreading like giant umbrellas to blot out the sky. Sunlight could only sprinkle through the gaps in the leaves and branches, powerless to dispel the smell of decay born from the dark, damp air. Mottled specks of light intertwined with the shadows of the trees, constantly shifting with the swaying branches, always playing tricks on the eyes. By the time one’s vision adapted to the forest’s changing light and shadows, one’s perception and alertness had already been imperceptibly diminished.

In the distance of the dim woodland was a tide-like darkness. This was the Black Forest, lurking with unknown terror, and it would bewitch a person’s mind.

Brandon tightened his grip on the longsword and shield in his hands, staring into the darkness a few hundred meters away. He took a deep breath, trying to suppress the fear that had suddenly bubbled up. Perhaps it was because Lady Fugerui had dismounted her Dragon-Lizard and produced that ridiculously oversized great-ax, but her cautious posture finally broke the young Knight from the Black Forest’s illusions. He refocused his will and spirit, and finally saw clearly the writhing black tide in the forest.

The grim terror that followed made a trace of shame and annoyance rise in Brandon’s heart.

As the left-flank scout commander valued by His Highness Randell, he should have remained vigilant at all times in this unfamiliar, primeval jungle. He should not have been like an ordinary warrior, ignoring the potential dangers of the Black Forest just because he had adapted to the environment.

Their journey had been far too smooth. They had hardly encountered a single worthy opponent. Even when they ran into common wild beasts, they were merely prey that delivered itself to their doorstep. In truth, Victor, in order to preserve their strength, had steered them around most monster gathering places. The beastmen tribes did not dare provoke the powerful Randell Expeditionary Force, and the solitary ferocious beasts of the forest possessed keen instincts, avoiding the scouting party well in advance. As a result, Brandon’s trek of several thousand kilometers through the Black Forest had felt like a long hike, and his sense of crisis had faded without him realizing it.

However, he now clearly understood that if they did encounter danger, it would certainly not be ordinary. He had to be on full alert and handle it with composure.

The second squad of the left-flank scouts, six men in total, followed their Elite Guard Corporal, using the massive trees for cover as they moved stealthily, one after another, deeper into the Black Forest.

The others were not idle. The Source-blood militia removed the supplies from the Dragon-Lizards, freeing them to fight. These Silver-rank war beasts were immensely powerful, with tough hides and sharp claws, and possessed the Extraordinary Regeneration talent. Equipped with high-quality armor, they were the best meat shields. Even against a mighty Ogre Warlord, they could put up a fight. The four craftsmen in the scouting party strung tough and sharp Thorium Spider silk between the trees and scattered some refined iron caltrops on the open ground, setting up a few simple yet insidious traps. A monster with sharp instincts might not fall for them, but the traps could at least limit its range of movement. The soldiers could make full use of these traps to hinder the monster, which could save their lives at a critical moment.

The Ferocious Warrior, Red Wolf, and his sword-wielding handmaiden were busy coating more than thirty thin-bladed throwing knives with paralyzing poison. The man’s skill with throwing knives had reached a state of perfection. Within forty meters, he could hit his target every single time, even with his eyes closed. He could even throw knives from behind while running without affecting his movement speed or the accuracy of his throw.

Brandon suspected that Red Wolf had practiced his throwing knife skills so arduously just to make it easier to escape.

Sensing Brandon’s gaze, Red Wolf turned his head, grinned at him, and continued to apply poison to his hidden weapons.

Brandon averted his eyes and curled his lip in disdain. With a stoic expression, he handed his Adamantine longsword to his handmaiden and said, “Let’s put some poison on this too… Hmm, the poison has an expiration date. It’d be a waste not to use it.”

About half an hour later, a Source-blood militiaman who had been out on reconnaissance returned from the Black Forest. A sentry immediately stepped out from behind a tree trunk to act as a landmark, preventing him from running into the newly laid traps.

“Commander, in the woods four kilometers to our left, we discovered a solitary, unknown, giant humanoid monster. It spotted us too and is chasing the second squad’s scouts through the forest,” the scout reported to Brandon. “By my estimation, it’s about 3.8 meters tall, with a bulky build and immense strength, but its movement speed is relatively slow. It has a rare extraordinary talent. We lost a Bear-Dog. The monster seemed to be able to hold it in place with its eyes, then it grabbed the Bear-Dog and drained it into a dried-up corpse with just physical contact.”

“The Corporal is keeping the monster occupied. He said he can lead it away and asked me to return for the commander’s orders.”

The Randell Expeditionary Force’s scouting parties were powerful. Their duties included not only vigilance but also eliminating certain threats and gathering information on monsters. Against a single giant humanoid monster, and a slow-moving one at that, Brandon was confident he could destroy it. At the very least, he could lead his scouts to a successful escape.

He gave the order decisively, “Lure it here. Everyone else, execute Plan Three.”

The scout gave a military salute, turned, and headed back the way he came. The scouting party’s Elite Guards and craftsmen, armed with bows and heavy crossbows, climbed into the canopies of trees that took three people to encircle, lying in wait high above. They were all Lithe Ape militiamen, possessing 12 Physique, 10 Spirit, and 15 Perception. Their strength far surpassed that of an ordinary Elite Soldier, and they were more agile than apes, able to leap through the canopy with ease. They were especially proficient with ranged weapons. Lithe Ape militiamen using powerful Thorium warbows and Thorium heavy crossbows had once killed a Silver-rank Ant-man chief. Now, with the high-ground advantage against a large, bulky monster, they could maximize their ranged attacks.

The third-level Source-Blood Militia all remained on the ground, choosing to fight with javelins and refined iron pikes over six meters long. Their strength was comparable to that of an 1800-pound Grand Duke Bear. Their Spirit attribute was three points higher than the Lithe Ape militiamen, and their Perception was one point higher, which meant their movements were more agile and their attacks more precise. They were true all-around warriors.

Javelins, bows and crossbows, long pikes, and hounds were the standard equipment for mountain folk hunters to take down a Grand Duke Bear. The Grand Duke Bear, weighing nearly a ton, was immensely strong and resilient. The mountain folk hunters would use an encirclement tactic, exploiting its large size and lack of agility. Several of the strongest hunters would use long pikes to pin the bear’s body from all directions, restricting its movement. Then they would release the hounds to bite and distract it, while the remaining hunters shot at it with bows from a distance. This way, they could hunt a Grand Duke Bear without suffering any casualties.

With the combined efforts of the Source-blood militia, Alchemical Warhounds, and Alchemical Dragon-Lizards, a replication of the mountain folks’ bear-hunting tactics could even kill a Ferocious Ogre chief.

The key to this tactic was ‘no casualties’.

However, the second squad’s preliminary reconnaissance revealed that the unknown monster possessed an extraordinary talent, capable of killing a target through physical contact. Brandon thus had his sword-wielding handmaiden take the Dragon-Lizards and warhounds to the rear. The war beasts of the House of Randell were precious and should be preserved whenever possible.

The Aberrant Rats bred by Imoson the Wizard could serve the role of hounds. They were about the size of wildcats, weak in strength but numerous. Brandon’s left-flank scouting party had over thirty Aberrant Rats, which were perfect to be used as cannon fodder.

A monster’s extraordinary talents were all limited by its vigor and couldn’t be used indefinitely. Brandon made up his mind, preparing to use the worthless Aberrant Rats to exhaust the unknown monster’s special ability.

There was nothing wrong with Brandon’s arrangements, but he had overlooked one fact: what kind of ordinary large monster would actively attack a scouting party that included a Dragonkin handmaiden?

Three-quarters of an hour later, accompanied by heavy footsteps, the unknown monster emerged from the Black Forest. Brandon and Red Wolf both wore expressions of utter disbelief. The young Knight commander even shouted a curse, “What in the hell! Is this damn thing a walking mushroom monster, or a moss monster?”

It was about 3.8 meters tall, its build as thick as a fortified wall. It was fundamentally a bipedal humanoid, but its body was covered in dark green moss and mushrooms of all sizes, looking especially disgusting. It had no hands, feet, mouth, nose, or ears. Its bald face held only a pair of strange eyes, in whose sockets danced two balls of pale flame.

It was clearly not an animal. Was it a plant?

In any case, it was definitely a monster!

The corporal of the second squad lured the monster into the ambush circle. It seemed to grow even more excited, its movement speed suddenly increasing to eighteen meters per second. Its movements only looked slow and clumsy; in reality, its speed was astonishing. It charged straight toward the swarm of Aberrant Rats.

The naturally ferocious Aberrant Rats let out shrill squeals and scattered in the opposite direction of the monster. It was as if they had encountered their natural enemy. They actually turned and fled, completely ignoring the urgent whistling of the Source-blood militiaman in charge of them.

Also fleeing was the Ferocious Warrior, Red Wolf. He chased after the swarm of Aberrant Rats and quickly vanished into the Black Forest.

Brandon erupted in fury. Just as he was about to unleash a torrent of curses, he heard a guard beside him shout, “Commander, look!”

The young Knight turned his head, his eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. The unknown monster had already entered the trap zone. Its stump-like legs trampled the caltrops as if they weren’t there, rushing toward the taut Thorium spider silk without slowing down. Its body was cut deeply by the sharp and tough Thorium spider silk, and then it passed right through, completely unharmed.

Brandon sucked in a cold breath. The Thorium spider silk had been dyed black, making it hard to see, but it was still visible upon close inspection. He had never intended to kill the monster with the silk in the first place. He wouldn’t have been this shocked even if the monster’s body had been tough enough to snap the Thorium spider silk.

However, the giant monster had passed through the Thorium spider silk trap in the most illogical way. its body was like mud; no blood flowed from the part severed by the silk, and it automatically fused back together.

What the hell is this thing?!

Brandon turned a terrified gaze to the nearby Fugerui, seeking help.

The Dragonkin handmaiden, wearing a horned helm and a mask that covered half her face, held her giant ax that was as tall as she was. She showed no intention of joining the fight. Her lovely red lips curled upwards, revealing an enigmatic smile as she said lightly, “Don’t ask me. I’d also like to see how the Commander plans to deal with it.”

Brandon was jolted. Dealing with unknown monsters was the duty of a scout commander. He circulated his Aura, dispelled the negative emotions in his heart, and fixed his resolute gaze on the monster, which had now closed to within one hundred meters. He waved his hand and commanded, “I don’t care if it’s a mushroom monster or a mud monster, take it down!”

Chapter 782: Ancient Undead

More than a dozen whistling arrows shot down from the high canopy. The monster’s head was disproportionately small compared to its massive body, but it was instantly studded with arrows and crossbow bolts.

The power of the Thorium heavy crossbows was self-evident. The Lithe Ape militiamen, wielding Thorium warbows, could fire conical armor-piercing arrows that could penetrate iron armor from seventy meters away. Even an Ogre’s Brute Hide Art couldn’t withstand a close-range volley from Thorium warbows. Although the piercing damage from the arrows had a limited effect on large, vitally tenacious monsters, the master-level Lithe Ape militiamen knew to aim for the vital points on its head and chest.

The unknown giant humanoid monster made no move to dodge the arrows and bolts raining down from above, nor did it raise its thick arms to protect its head and face. In moments, it was shot until it resembled a porcupine, but the only effect was that its movements slowed slightly as it continued to pursue the fleeing Aberrant Rats.

Brandon didn’t understand why the monster was chasing the Aberrant Rats, but since it wasn’t attacking any other targets, it made for a perfect live target.

“Spearmen, follow me! Restrain its movements!”

The handsome young Knight snatched a six-meter-long spear and charged forward first. Several other spearmen closed in from different directions, their sharp spears plunging into the monster’s knees, hips, chest, and back. The round guard between the spearhead and the shaft, much like the guard on a sword, could prevent blood from flowing onto their hands, but its primary function was to brace against the monster’s body, stopping it from sliding down the spear shaft towards the spearman.

This monster possessed astonishing brute strength, but the third-level Source-Blood Militia were not weak either. Tensing the muscles in their waists and legs, they used the resistance of the refined iron shafts and the round guards to hold the monster in place.

The two-foot-long spearheads were buried deep in the monster’s body, yet no blood flowed out. It was clear they couldn’t hope to kill it with spears.

“Pin its head! Heavy crossbows, aim for its eye sockets!”

With a flick of his wrist, Brandon accurately plunged his refined iron spear into the monster’s right cheek. Another Source-blood militiaman thrust his spear into its left cheek. Together, they forced the monster’s head up.

The monster’s head was indeed immobilized.

Adamantine crossbow bolts shot forth, piercing the monster’s small eye sockets. The two pale flames within immediately went out. The monster’s body visibly stiffened, and the force of its resistance vanished. The two spears held the faceless head high, the force of their thrust creating a “neck” where the head met the shoulders.

Brandon leaped into the air, still gripping his spear, and swung his sword in a backhanded slash mid-air. The sharp blade traced a gleaming arc, slicing through the monster’s taut neck. Aided by the upward force of the spears, he severed its head. Before he even landed, Brandon kicked the falling head away like a ball.

The headless monster finally stopped moving. Brandon let out a sigh of relief and muttered to himself in triumph, “Killing it wasn’t so hard after all.”

Having slain a seemingly unkillable monster through intelligence and quick thinking, the young Brandon had every right to feel proud.

Just as he was basking in his satisfaction, a chilling power invaded his mind. Brandon felt his thoughts recede into the distance, the ideas in his head rapidly vanishing. Boundless despair dominated his spirit. His eyes lost the glint of an intelligent being, becoming dull and empty. His Aura stopped circulating. Even when he saw a pair of eye sockets appear on the monster’s waist, glowing with pale flames, no thought entered his mind.

It was as if his thoughts, emotions, and even his instinctive fear of death had been stripped away.

“Don’t look at its eyes!”

Two thin-bladed throwing knives whizzed past Brandon’s ear and buried themselves in the monster’s newly formed eye sockets, extinguishing the two eerie pale flames. The chill that had been spreading through his body stopped. A second later, Brandon snapped back to his senses, circulating his Aura to dispel the cold that had seized his body and mind. He instantly retreated more than twenty meters.

He turned his head and shouted to Red Wolf, who was not far away, “I thought you’d run off.”

The lean, wiry Ferocious warrior threw back his cloak, revealing several Aberrant Rats tied up inside. He chuckled. “I was just rounding up some deserters… This monster is more interested in the Aberrant Rats than anyone else, so I figured they’d be useful. I just wasn’t sure what the right way to use them was.”

“My friend, I owe you one.” Brandon had no time for more. The situation was changing again. He shouted to the spearmen, “Let go, all of you! Fall back!”

The headless monster’s body, like a fluid, began to writhe and contort. The mushrooms and moss on its surface were all drawn inside, and even the arrows and spears were swallowed by its body, only to be spat out from its back as it continued to roil. The monster’s flabby, bloated body became lean and solid. Its height condensed from 3.8 meters to 3 meters, and its surface was now covered in black, gelatinous strands that looked like tangled sinew. It regrew a head, massive claws, and feet. Two hollows sunk into its featureless face, and within them, two pale flames ignited.

Darkness surged from its feet like a tide, covering a two-meter radius. A chilling aura spread outwards, carrying a stench of decay, ruin, and danger.

Fugerui quietly took off her horned helm and planted her giant axe blade in the ground. Brandon and Red Wolf didn’t notice the Dragonkin handmaiden’s subtle maneuver. Their minds were completely focused. Brandon’s thought was: The monster has awakened.

Red Wolf, however, was thinking: This is bad. The monster’s angry.

The monster, transformed from bloated to lean, lunged at Brandon, its five claws pressed together like a blade, stabbing at the Knight’s chest. Instead of retreating, the Knight advanced. He stabbed the monster’s jaw with his six-meter spear, then used its brute force to propel himself backward. The Alchemical militia’s arrows and javelins struck the monster’s back, but many were deflected. The few crossbow bolts and javelins that did pierce its skin caused no effective damage. Several Alchemical militiamen picked up the spears the monster had spat out and, coordinating with Brandon, braced their spear-guards against its body, unleashing their combined strength to pin it once more.

“Don’t look at its eyes! Cease crossbow fire! Use fire oil and burn it to death!”

Brandon used his fire of the mind ability to adjust the angle of his spear, systematically countering the force of the monster’s struggles to prevent it from lowering its head and using the pale flames in its eye sockets. But the Knight could feel the pressure transmitted through the spear growing stronger. “Red Wolf, hurry up!” he shouted urgently. “I can’t hold it for long! Watch out for that dark domain at its feet!”

Red Wolf ran with incredible speed, grabbing a barrel of fire oil and dousing the monster with it before igniting a piece of tinder and tossing it over.

Boom! The monster became a raging torch. But before Brandon could celebrate, the monster’s body began to writhe and contort again. It actually devoured the searing flames, and the spears sank into its body as well. The buffer between the spearmen and the monster vanished in an instant.

Brandon yelled in frustration and alarm, “Let go! Everyone, let go! Don’t get near its dark domain… How the hell do we kill this damn thing?!”

Immune to physical damage and able to devour fire—this kind of monster defied all common sense. Brandon couldn’t help but feel a profound sense of powerlessness.

At that moment, the darkness at the monster’s feet seemed to come alive, stretching out like a ribbon toward Red Wolf’s shadow.

Red Wolf let out a shriek. As he leaped back, he flung his cloak open and tossed out an Aberrant Rat. As expected, the monster changed its target, snatching the wildcat-sized Aberrant Rat. Brandon watched as the rat, in the monster’s grasp, withered at a visible rate, turning into a mummified husk of skin and bone.

The monster was clearly fascinated by the Aberrant Rats and chased Red Wolf all over the place. Whenever the monster was about to catch him, Red Wolf would, like a Prophet, toss out another Aberrant Rat from under his cloak to distract it. His plan was to lead the unkillable, terrifying monster away, then release the remaining four Aberrant Rats all at once to cover his escape up a tree.

Brandon understood Red Wolf’s intention and admired his companion’s cleverness, but then he suddenly noticed the monster had stopped. Its two eye sockets merged into one, and the pale flame within stared at Red Wolf’s retreating back.

“Red Wolf, look out!”

Brandon screamed himself hoarse, but it was too late. Red Wolf stopped in his tracks and slowly turned around. His expression was vacant and numb, completely devoid of life, like the face of a dead man.

The monster strode toward the lifeless Ferocious warrior. Brandon threw his Adamantine longsword with all his might, but he knew it would be almost useless.

Just as Brandon was at his wit’s end, a flicker of life returned to Red Wolf’s empty eyes, but it was the gleam of a wild beast. He let out a threatening growl, turned, and ran into the depths of the Black Forest.

The monster gave chase to the Ferocious warrior, but a tall, ferocious Dragonkin flashed to its side. With one swipe of its claws, it tore the monster’s head apart and, with a powerful sweep of its draconic tail, sent it flying more than twenty meters.

Before the monster could recover, Fugerui, in her Dragon-form, opened her bloody maw and unleashed a continuous stream of bone-chilling dragon’s breath, freezing it into a strangely shaped ice sculpture.

The creature that had just been unbeatable was as weak and helpless as a rabbit before the Dragonkin. This wasn’t the first time Brandon had seen Fugerui’s Dragon-form, but he was still stunned by her overwhelmingly tyrannical power.

“Lady, is it dead?” Brandon walked over and asked timidly. He wasn’t sure if he was wary of the monster or afraid of the three-meter-tall Dragonkin Lady before him.

“I haven’t frozen it completely. Master is still interested in it.” Fugerui flicked her tail, her fang-filled mouth opening and closing as she spoke. “That Red Wolf’s condition is a bit strange…”

By now, Red Wolf had vanished from sight. Brandon said worriedly, “I don’t know what’s happened to Red Wolf. He seemed to have turned into a wild beast. Please allow me to take some men and bring him back…”

“Go on, go,” the Dragonkin Fugerui said impatiently, coiling her tail.

Brandon bowed and then summoned a squad of scouts to follow in the direction Red Wolf had fled.

From the other side of the Black Forest, three figures emerged: Victor, Narsen, and Father Dayn. Fugerui gave a happy cry, changing back into her beautiful Dragonoid female form and throwing herself into her Master’s arms. “King,” she cooed, “I followed Your will and did not destroy this monster.”

Victor took off his color-changing cloak and wrapped it around Fugerui’s enchanting, snow-white body. “You all did well,” he praised. “Now… let me have a look at this unkillable monster.”

As he spoke, a stream of cyan-black air materialized and whistled toward the frost-covered monster. The blue frost shattered under the blast of wind element. The monster had just thawed when the part struck by the cyan-black current collapsed inward, forming a large crater, as if it had been smashed by the fist of a wind giant.

The monster could no longer maintain its humanoid form. The gelatinous ooze that composed its body roiled and writhed, quickly collapsing into a large pile of sludge. Even so, it did not die. A pitch-black skeleton emerged from the gelatinous sludge, two dim, faint, pale flames flickering in its eye sockets as it struggled to pull its body back together. But it had been severely wounded by Victor’s Grasp of the Wind Djinn and could only crawl slowly along the ground.

“What is this monster?” Narsen cried out in surprise, his hand tightening once more on his Adamantine beheading sword, looking eager to test it.

Dayn’s face was ashen. He gritted his teeth and said, “It’s an undead!”

“Your Highness, please allow me to Purify it!” he said, turning solemnly to Victor.

Victor’s expression was also grim. When he had been observing the battle remotely with his Nemesis talent, he had already used Chilling Wind on the monster, but it had had no effect. His Grasp of the Wind Djinn just now had broken the monster’s form, but it hadn’t completely destroyed it. From the looks of it, it could still slowly recover.

Victor was not entirely unfamiliar with this type of monster. A few years ago, a team of alchemical creatures had encountered the same kind of monster when they entered the Endless Forest. An Alchemical Dragon-Lizard and two Griffin Militia had died at its hands. Their Soul Fires had returned to Alchemy Tower Seven, uploading their memories from the five minutes before their deaths, which included some information about this type of monster.

Victor stared at the pitch-black skeleton writhing in the sludge for a moment, then said in a low voice, “This is no ordinary undead. It’s an ancient undead… Dayn, don’t be in a hurry to Purify it. We need to conduct some serious tests to find its weaknesses. If I’m not mistaken, more monsters like this are waiting for us up ahead.”

Chapter 783: Undead Creatures

Red Wolf felt as if his entire body was submerged in a warm current of water, and he couldn’t help but let out a long, comfortable sigh. Immediately after, he felt a gentle force lifting him up. His feverish skin suddenly met the cold air, and he instinctively shivered, his eyes snapping open.

Two familiar, beautiful faces came into view. He murmured, “Mary, Dina… It’s you. Is it morning already?”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the sensitive and suspicious Ferocious Warrior shot up into a sitting position. Though his mind was not yet fully clear, years of ingrained caution had him swiftly and discreetly surveying his surroundings. He found himself in a small wooden cabin, sitting naked on a wooden bed. Beside it stood a large bathtub, the water within still steaming and emitting a peculiar herbal scent. It was obvious he had just been soaking in that tub; no wonder it had felt as comfortable as a hot spring.

Red Wolf collected himself, then frowned and asked his sword-wielding handmaidens, “What… happened to me?”

The two handmaidens gave the man a gentle, sweet smile and gently pressed him back down onto the bed, their four slender hands massaging his muscles and sinews.

Mary and Dina had both undergone body reconstruction three times, and their figures and appearances were of the highest caliber. Hot water had been heated in the room, making the air warm and humid. They were dressed in light clothing, their small, snow-white feet bare. When they bent over, tantalizing glimpses of their figures were revealed, making them seem exceptionally alluring.

Red Wolf felt a stir of passion and reached for their slender waists, only to be blocked. The round-faced Mary revealed her dimples to her partner, chuckling. “Just woke up and you’re already thinking of misbehaving.”

Dina, with her brownish-red hair and emerald eyes, said softly, “Darling, Master instructed that he wishes to see you as soon as you are fully awake. As for what you experienced, you must remember it on your own. We are not to mislead you with our words. Right now, we will use a secret art to help you recover your spirit. You’ll have to endure it a little.”

The two handmaidens began to knead and press Red Wolf’s body with their small hands, at times applying heavy pressure to certain areas, twisting and pinching his skin, membranes, and sinews. This was no simple massage; it was the Hammer-Press Forging Method, a technique Victor had developed based on the York family’s inherited secret massage and body forging technique, combined with the theory of the Mind and Bloodline. It was specifically designed to stimulate a person’s inner potential and spirit.

Mary and Dina’s technique was masterful. As they applied the Hammer-Press Forging Method with varying rhythms of light and heavy, fast and slow, sensations of pain, soreness, numbness, and itching pierced straight to his marrow, then traveled up his spine to his brain. Red Wolf clenched his teeth, enduring it bitterly as his hammered muscles and sinews instinctively contracted. Fortunately, the sword-wielding handmaidens possessed three times the strength of an ordinary person, which was what allowed them to perform the Hammer-Press Forging Method on a Ferocious Warrior with such a tough physique.

Gradually, Red Wolf felt a warmth rise from within and without his body, yet his mind was ice-cold and clear. The carnal agitation brought on by the Poltanos Secret Art completely dissipated, and the memories of his encounter with the monster all came flooding back.

After the massage and pummelling concluded, Red Wolf felt refreshed and invigorated. He had his sword-wielding handmaidens help him dress before he hurriedly left the small cabin.

Stepping outside, he saw that this was a semi-permanent camp. Strong soldiers were felling logs from the forest and constructing wooden cabins and watchtowers along the bank of a shallow river. Animal hides and air-dried meat hung from wooden racks across the camp. The soldiers had even built a drying field, piling all the collected nuts, fruits, mushrooms, and wild vegetables on it to prepare dried fruit and vegetables.

It seemed the expeditionary force intended to spend the winter here. However, the elite warriors of House Randell could build a camp with ease. A semi-permanent camp like this could be abandoned at a moment’s notice; after all, there was no shortage of wood in the forest.

In fact, Red Wolf remembered this place—or, to be precise, he recognized the river. More than ten days ago, they had already crossed this shallow river, and it was only after entering the Black Forest on the other side that they encountered that terrifying and bizarre humanoid monster.

Now, the expeditionary force had retreated from the Black Forest on the far side back to the riverbank. Red Wolf had an ominous premonition: could it be that His Highness Randell had chosen to retrace their steps and camp by the river because of the monsters in the Black Forest?

The largest wooden cabin in the center of the camp was surely His Highness Randell’s residence. Reno and Shak were standing guard at the entrance. Seeing Red Wolf approach, they proactively opened the wooden door and gestured for him to enter.

Red Wolf stepped through the doorway and saw His Highness Randell, Lord Narsen, Lady Charlotte, and Father Dayne sitting around a simple wooden table, seemingly about to discuss something. Without a second thought, he went forward, performed a one-knee kneel, and said respectfully, “Honored Master, your loyal servant Wolf answers your summons.”

Such fawning greetings were Red Wolf’s signature style. Victor smiled and nodded. “Red Wolf, it seems you’ve recovered well. Do you know what happened to you?”

Red Wolf kept his head low and answered, “My lord, I remember everything now. Three days ago, Brandon and I encountered an unkillable monster in the Black Forest. As I tried to lure it away, it used some kind of extraordinary power on me… I felt an icy chill spread from my back through my whole body. My mind felt frozen, and I seemed to lose interest in everything, my heart filled only with sorrow and despair. I saw the monster approaching me, but I just didn’t want to move… No, what I mean is, I had no thoughts in my head at all.”

He fell silent for two seconds before adding with lingering fear, “That feeling… it was like I was sliding into a dark, cold abyss… Did I become a dead man?”

Then, he took a deep breath and said in confusion, “After that, Poltanos awakened from within me. I watched from the dark abyss as He controlled my body and fled rapidly from that monster… I never thought I could run that fast. I ran for a very, very long time before my speed gradually decreased. Then Brandon caught up to me with his men. He asked me what was wrong, but Poltan-os was furious and controlled my body to threaten Brandon, telling him not to come any closer.”

He said shamefully, “I think Brandon and I fought. I broke his ribs… I swear it wasn’t my intention. It was all Poltanos’s doing. Brandon and a few of our brothers worked together to subdue me, and they carried me back on a plank. Father Dayn used a divine art to make me—oh, no, to make Poltanos calm down. Then I entered a state of cultivating the secret art and only woke up today.”

Victor and Dayne exchanged a glance. He said to Red Wolf, “Alright, stand up and speak.”

“Yes.” Red Wolf rose from the rough wooden floor, bowed solemnly to Father Dayn, and said humbly, “Praise the Supreme Lord of Radiance. Thank you, Esteemed Father, for saving my soul.”

Dayne, dressed in a flax robe, nodded and said with reserve, “Our Lord shelters His lambs and dispels the darkness. Your devout heart has been rewarded… Of course, you should also thank yourself for diligently practicing the Poltanos Secret Art. Otherwise, you would not have survived long enough for the Lord’s redemption and would have been dragged into the dark abyss by evil forces.”

Red Wolf repeatedly agreed, then asked meekly, “Esteemed Father, how are Brandon’s injuries? I really didn’t mean to hurt him. I was like a wild beast at that time.”

Dayne smiled. “Brandon is fine. He’s out hunting with some men. But he’s still brooding over you injuring him. He said that once you’re back to normal, he wants to have another go with you.”

Red Wolf gave a wry smile. “It’s only right that he beats me up to vent his anger. If Brandon beats me too badly, I’ll have to ask you for healing, Esteemed Father.”

Narsen looked Red Wolf up and down and cut in with great interest, “Brandon is a mid-rank Bronze Knight who has ignited his fire of the mind. I’m also puzzled how you, in an unconscious state, managed to beat him until he was coughing up blood. If it weren’t for the six family warriors helping him, Brandon might have been in real danger.”

Red Wolf thought seriously for a moment, then frowned and muttered, “I don’t know how it happened either… But after this incident, I feel that I’ve made great progress in my cultivation of the Poltanos Secret Art. The mythical three-headed lizard visualization object has become incredibly vivid in my mind. Perhaps it won’t be long before I can cultivate the fifth stage of the secret art.”

Narsen’s eyes lit up. He stood up excitedly and said, “Oh, something like that can happen? I…”

“Shut up and sit down.”

Victor cut Narsen off, glancing at him sideways and saying coldly, “You want to imitate Red Wolf and test the undead monster’s innate power? I guarantee Father Dayn will not intervene. You are more than welcome to gamble with your life.”

Seeing his master angry, Narsen could only sit back down sheepishly, shooting Dayne a slightly fawning smile.

Victor turned back to the Ferocious Warrior. “Red Wolf, you encountered danger but were fortunate. Both your power of the mind and your Bloodline power have improved. We will be stationed here for some time. That wooden cabin is yours now. Focus on cultivating the Poltanos Secret Art and stabilize its fifth stage as soon as possible. It will directly increase your lifespan.”

An overjoyed Red Wolf bowed. “Thank you, Master. I will certainly cultivate the Poltanos Secret Art well and increase my strength to serve you.”

“You may go.”

After Red Wolf left the cabin, Victor tapped the table and remarked with emotion, “The Poltanos Secret Art does indeed strengthen a cultivator’s bestial instincts, but I didn’t expect it could also counter the innate power of an undead creature. Red Wolf was lucky, but the rest of you should not joke with your lives. If Dayn hadn’t used his divine arts to calm the agitation in Red Wolf’s soul in time, he would have either become a complete beast or died from exhausting his potential. Right now, Dayne is the only high-ranked priest in the expeditionary force. None of you should expect him to be able to save everyone in time.”

Victor paused, then added, “Besides, the expeditionary force will need Dayne’s divine power to eliminate those undead creatures in the forest.”

Three days ago, the expeditionary force had captured the unknown monster encountered by the left-wing scouts. After repeated testing, they had finally figured out some of its characteristics. Since the creature’s core was a humanoid skull engraved with ancient runes, it was clearly not a natural monster but some kind of artificially created semi-undead.

Why semi-undead?

Because this special monster possessed undead traits, but also biological traits that distinguished it from traditional undead—eating and growing.

Victor classified this semi-undead into a new category in monsterology, naming it the Undead Creature.

And with that, he had a new piece in his knowledge jigsaw puzzle.

Slime Behemoth, a Gold-rank large Undead Creature, possessing Undead Traits, Biological Traits, Semi-Elemental Traits, a Dark Domain, and a Despair Gaze.

Undead Trait: The Slime Behemoth is almost immune to any form of physical damage; it can resist fire, ice, and poison damage; it also has high immunity to mental and elemental damage.

There are currently three ways to kill a Slime Behemoth. First, cut its body into pieces and prevent them from rejoining the core skull. After about sixteen hours, its fragmented tissues will wither. But even so, the Undead Behemoth’s core skull will not die; its power will only be weakened to the extreme.

Second, douse the Undead Behemoth with a large amount of fire oil and burn it continuously, turning its body tissues completely to ash. By the same token, its core skull will not die just because its body is burned away, frozen into shards, or corroded by poison; it still has a chance to restore its form and power through its biological trait. The four Dragonkin handmaidens’ Breath is astonishingly powerful and could quickly deal with the Undead Behemoth’s body, but this is not a good idea, as turning into a Dragonkin is a considerable burden for them.

Ultimately, the best way to kill a Slime Behemoth is to shatter its core skull. Victor could use his wind element perception to lock onto the core skull’s position and kill it with a single blow. It would not be so easy for others to kill a Slime Behemoth, as its skull moves around inside its body. To find it, one must first cut the Slime Behemoth to pieces or burn its body.

Fortunately, the Slime Behemoth is extremely afraid of Dayne’s Radiant divine arts. The Sacred Flame Art, Dispel Evil, and even the most basic Divine Art of Holy Light could Purify them.

Biological Trait: The Slime Behemoth exhibits the biological traits of eating and growing, and possesses simple intelligence. It is especially eager to hunt and kill Biological Aberrations, followed by natural creatures, but has no interest in alchemical creatures. The more creatures a Slime Behemoth absorbs, the larger its body becomes and the more its intelligence grows. Of course, their intelligence is limited to combat techniques and hunting skills; they are basically idiots who can’t even do “one plus one equals two,” even dumber than Fishmen.

Semi-Elemental Trait: The Slime Behemoth can change into three forms. It has no blood, muscles, bones, or internal organs, nor does it have any fatal weak spots, which are very obvious signs of elementalization. Its first form is a writhing slime, its surface covered with mushrooms and moss, seemingly able to survive for long periods like a plant, though Victor believed this was also a form of camouflage. The slime-form behemoth automatically engulfs creatures that get too close, and the forest animals that want to taste the mushrooms and moss become its prey.

The Slime Behemoth’s second form is a 3.8-meter-tall humanoid form, capable of active hunting. When it encounters a strong opponent, it enters its third combat form, condensing its body to three meters and gaining super strength, super toughness, and super speed. The only ones who could crush it in battle were Victor, Caligula, and the four Dragonkin handmaidens. Even Narsen would probably only be able to protect himself against a combat-form Slime Behemoth.

Unless Father Dayn enchanted their weapons with the Sacred Flame Art. In that case, any warrior in the expeditionary force could purify a Gold-rank Slime Behemoth.

This was fundamentally a suppression at the level of Laws.

Therefore, Father Dayn’s confidence was now through the roof, and his status in the expeditionary force had skyrocketed. Apart from Victor himself and the alchemical creatures, everyone treated him with all sorts of courtesy and flattery.

This was actually quite normal. Dayn, after all, represented the Church’s strongest, Father Miller, a Spirit Priest and an Attendant of Radiance. His demonstration of the value of a high-ranking clergy member naturally earned him commensurate respect.

Dark Domain: The combat-form Slime Behemoth can project a dark domain with a two-meter radius on the ground. Life forms caught in the dark domain suffer negative effects opposite to those of Radiant divine arts; they will age rapidly, feel mentally weary, and their movements will become sluggish. It was because the Slime Behemoth possessed a domain that Victor determined it was a Gold-rank Undead Creature.

Despair Gaze: The Slime Behemoth can concentrate the pale flame in its eye sockets to inflict a unique form of mental damage on a target, stripping them of their thoughts, emotions, and even their survival instinct. The victim’s heart is filled with despair, as if they are turning into an undead creature.

This innate ability is completely ineffective against alchemical creatures. The Alchemical Dragon-Lizard had encountered a wandering Slime Behemoth and they had fought for a long time, but in the end, the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard was worn down and killed by the Slime Behemoth.

When natural beings face the Despair Gaze, it all depends on their individual willpower. A Knight with strong willpower could clearly resist the despair, whereas the Ferocious Warrior Red Wolf was much weaker than Brandon. Fortunately, he cultivated the Poltanos Secret Art. The secondary personality of the mythical three-headed lizard automatically awakened when his main consciousness fell silent, not only allowing Red Wolf to escape disaster but also turning a misfortune into a blessing, advancing him to the fifth stage of his nine visualization charts.

The Slime Behemoth’s core skull was inscribed with ancient runes, proving it was not a natural creature. This meant the Slime Behemoth had another source, and it might not be the only Undead Creature.

To avoid any more surprise encounters with Undead Creatures, Victor had ordered the expeditionary force to withdraw from the Black Forest and return to the riverbank to rest and regroup. He himself took Mewen to scout the enemy’s situation in the Black Forest, and they successively discovered four more Undead Creatures of the same type. However, they were far from being as powerful as the first Slime Behemoth; two of them were just slime monsters crawling on the ground. But they all had a core skull, and all of them were the skulls of non-humans.

Victor could not identify the origin of the skulls. The only thing he could think of was the Assyrians.

Placing the five skulls one by one on the table, Victor pointed to them and said, “Judging by the color, this one is the oldest, and that Slime Behemoth was the most powerful, but it’s no more than five hundred years old. As for these other four core skulls, I estimate their ages to be two hundred, one hundred and fifty, sixty, and thirty years, respectively. As for their strength, Silver-rank, Bronze-rank… muck, and more muck.”

His Highness Randell’s remark was amusing, and everyone laughed. Ordinary slime monsters could only bully forest animals; they lacked terrifying innate powers, and their movement speed was pitiful. They posed no threat to the expeditionary force.

Victor continued, “The muck revealed the most information. Besides the skulls, there were scraps of clothing and decorative bones. These items, undigested by the slime, come from the same civilization. The cuts on the skulls have almost identical marks from a sharp weapon, indicating the victims were beheaded, then turned into Undead Creatures.”

Charlotte nodded. “I’ve read ancestor Trigovar’s notes. The Paladin recorded that the Wizard King of the Assyrian Empire held a massive Blood Sacrifice, beheading more than six hundred adult Assyrian males at once. He strung their heads on long wooden poles, and the blood that flowed out gathered into a pool of blood. The Warriors of the Assyrian Empire jumped into the blood pool and mutated into three-meter-tall behemoths that were not only immensely strong but also had powerful regenerative abilities. These Assyrian Behemoths were the Wizard King’s main force against the ant swarms.”

“However, the Assyrian Behemoths were still flesh and blood and could still be killed by the Ant-men. They are not the same as the Slime Behemoth. If there is a similarity between the two, it would be the skulls… Trigovar’s notes state that the Assyrians closely resembled humans, with a small number of scales on their necks and limbs. Their canine teeth were hollow and naturally secreted venom, a bit like snakes.”

“The canine teeth of these skulls are also hollow, which means they were all Assyrians. What puzzles me is that the Assyrian Empire should have perished long ago. Over fifteen hundred years ago, the ancestor Paladin of House Trigovar destroyed the Assyrian altar, leading to the ant-men being able to attack the Assyrian Empire’s most important temple. And yet, the core skulls of the slime monsters we captured belonged to individuals who died as recently as thirty years ago.”

Narsen shook his head. “An empire perishing doesn’t mean all its people died. The Assyrians would have fled, wouldn’t they? Their descendants might be living in the western part of the Black Forest.”

Charlotte pondered for a moment, then said, “There’s another possibility. The Assyrians have been enslaved by some entity.”

“It’s a resurrected ancient devil!” Dayne said, his eyes fervent. “The Supreme Lord guided us here. It is our responsibility to eliminate this devil. Just as the clergy one thousand five hundred years ago shattered the devil’s altar, we too must eliminate the threat this ancient devil poses to the Radiant Kingdom.”

Ever since Dayne had easily purified two slime monsters with the Divine Art of Holy Light, his spirits had become extremely agitated. Charlotte looked at him as if he were a madman, but she still said tactfully, “The Randell Expeditionary Force’s mission is to scout the Ant-man lairs. Besides, a resurrected ancient devil is probably not something we can handle. After all, Your Excellency Dayne is the only high-ranking priest in our team. My opinion is that the expeditionary force should avoid the Black Forest ahead, find the Ant-man lair first, complete the reconnaissance mission, and then report the matter of the devil and the Undead Creatures to the Holy See when we return to our fief. Let the Radiant Church organize a force of clergy to crusade against the root of this evil.”

Charlotte’s first priority was to ensure Victor’s safety; she was completely unwilling to let her beloved master take such a risk. Dayne could understand her concerns, but the conviction of Redemption and the sense of mission of a clergyman had filled his mind. Most importantly, he now firmly believed that the Attendant of Radiance, Miller, had entrusted him with a great responsibility. Eliminating the resurrected ancient devil was his duty.

Dayne badly wanted to take out My lord Miller’s sacred object crystal and loudly tell Charlotte and Narsen that he had already brought the Church’s top-tier divine power with him, and they didn’t need to request reinforcements from the Church to deal with the ancient devil. But My lord Miller had not revealed his identity, so Dayn dared not leak the secret of a God-favored. He could only patiently explain to Charlotte:

“My Lady Randall, if this devil can use Assyrian skulls to create Undead Creatures, it could potentially do the same cruel things to humans. The devil’s threat is greater than the Ant-man plague. We cannot turn a blind eye. In fact, by coming into contact with the Undead Creatures, the Randell Expeditionary Force’s movements have already been exposed. I fear the devil will not let us go.”

Charlotte said coolly, “That doesn’t have to be right now. We can control the timing, can we not?”

“Enough.” Victor spoke up, stopping the argument between Charlotte and Dayne. He said with a calm expression, “I will decide what to do based on the situation. Imosen is using his wizardry, controlling a forest falcon to investigate the source of the Undead Creatures… He seems to have found the target. The result is probably not good.”

Dayne was startled. He stood up and ran to the door, just in time to see Imosen hurrying over.

The Wizard’s steps were staggered, his face deathly pale and devoid of color, as if he were gravely ill. Dayne immediately cast a Heroism Art followed by a Restoration Art on him, then took the Wizard’s arm and asked with concern, “What happened to you? Soul damage from wizardry backlash?”

Imosen gave a grateful smile and shook his head. “I’m fine. I terminated the Wisdom Guidance in time. The forest falcon I was controlling was killed by a monster, but I’m alright… I was just… frightened.”

“Master, I’ve found the source of the Undead Creatures.” Imosen broke free from the priest’s grip, walked into the cabin, and said to Victor with a woeful expression, “A slime monster… a super-large slime monster, as big as half of Laketon Castle!”

Chapter 784: Lord of Despair

Laketon Castle stood fifty meters tall, two hundred seventy-nine meters long, and one hundred fifty-six meters wide. It was permanently garrisoned by more than two hundred guards and could hold over one thousand people in times of war. If a servant were to hide in some corner of the castle to slack off, the steward would need luck on his side just to find him. When soldiers stood on the battlements at the top of the castle and looked down, the pedestrians on the ground were no bigger than roosters.

Imosen, having seen the Colossal Slime Behemoth through the eyes of a forest falcon with his Wisdom Guidance wizardry, had scrambled back to report that it was half the size of Laketon Castle. In truth, he was exaggerating. The Colossal Slime Behemoth wasn’t that absurdly large. It was about the size of the manor house at Silver Moon Manor—equivalent to a seven-story villa with over three hundred rooms, and a couple of sizes larger than the Hydra Lizard in the swamp.

The Colossal Slime Behemoth lay in a lake in a clearing, surrounded by a desolate and decaying landscape where not even a blade of grass grew. It stood in stark contrast to the lush, vibrant primeval forest.

This was no naturally formed clearing; it was a space carved out by the Colossal Slime Behemoth itself. Spanning an area of nearly four hundred square kilometers, gray rock was exposed on the surface, bearing the marks of corrosive crawling. Rainwater had pooled in the low-lying areas to form a lake, where the Colossal Slime Behemoth lay like a small mountain.

A thick darkness swirled around its base. It was impossible to tell if it was shadow, black and foul-smelling lakewater, or the innate aura of an Undead Creature. Perhaps it was all three—a dark domain that even the light of the sun could not dispel.

Victor and his party stood on a tall, ancient tree, gazing into the distance. Everyone was silent, except for Aka, who kept muttering in a low voice, “Master, Aka is scared. Let’s go back. Let’s hurry and go back, okay?”

He hid behind the tree trunk, only half of his face visible, looking as frightened and uneasy as a child who would never grow up. The brave posture he usually boasted of was nowhere to be seen.

Faced with a distant glimpse of the colossal Undead Creature, Caligula’s true colors were finally revealed.

The others weren’t much better off. The color drained from Charlotte’s cherry lips. She lowered her monocular telescope, her pretty face pale as she murmured, “Can a monster like this really be destroyed?”

Dayne’s left hand clutched the sacred object crystal under his breastplate as he grunted, “It can. It definitely can. The radiance of our Lord will cleanse all darkness!”

When all is dark, only the light remains eternal. The conviction of the clergy did not permit Dayne to compromise with beings like Devils or evil gods, but his gritted teeth and the red-eyed, self-hypnotizing look in his eyes did little to inspire confidence in others.

Narsen was perched on a higher branch, his color-changing cloak making him seem to merge with the tree. Such camouflage was meaningless against an Undead Creature; it only offered the wearer some psychological comfort. While using his monocular to observe the details of the slime monster’s surroundings, he said, “This is the Black Forest. We are at least thirty thousand kilometers from the radiant human kingdoms.”

The expeditionary force had set out last winter. So far, they had been traveling for thirteen months. Subtracting the time spent in the Grey Rabbit Mountains and the Oak Savanna, their journey had totaled over two hundred days. Calculating an average of two hundred kilometers of travel per day, the total distance covered already exceeded forty thousand kilometers.

The Lord of Radiance was the protector of humanity, but the Radiant Church never claimed He was the one true god. Aside from the evil gods and Devils that encroached upon the human kingdoms, the clergy had no need, and certainly no ability, to target other great beings. The primary reason was the vast distance. Take this Colossal Slime Behemoth, for instance—who knew if it was a resurging Ancient God? And if it wasn’t a Devil endangering the human kingdoms, who knew how many similar extraordinary creatures existed in the endless forest?

Narsen’s words immediately calmed Dayne, who changed his tune. “Of course, we still need to observe… Imosen is a fool. The slime monster’s core skull was clearly a head severed by a sharp weapon. The Colossal Slime Behemoth may be huge, but I haven’t seen it use any sharp weapons. It is obviously not the mastermind behind the creation of the Undead Creatures, nor is it necessarily the source of evil.”

“Your Highness, what I mean is, the remnants of the Assyrian Empire are, in all likelihood, connected to the Undead Creatures in the Black Forest. They are most likely serving a resurging Ancient God, creating Slime Behemoths through cruel and evil rituals. Perhaps we should find the remnants of the Assyrian Empire before considering our next move.”

Charlotte chimed in, “That’s right. Over fifteen hundred years ago, the Assyrian Empire and the Ant-man monsters were mortal enemies. If the descendants of the Assyrian Empire have survived to this day, the Undead Creatures in the Black Forest might be their means of fighting the Ant-man monsters. Perhaps we can use this to our advantage.”

“Master, can we go back then?” Caligula hugged the tree trunk, calling out to Victor, who was standing on a treetop branch.

“Quiet. Something interesting is about to happen,” Victor said. As if weightless, he stood securely on the fragile branch, his dark gold eyes fixed on the colossal Undead Creature more than thirty kilometers away.

They were observing the monster, and the monster was observing them. Since there were no other animals in this forest, Victor and his party were invaders who had trespassed into the Colossal Slime Behemoth’s territory.

On the side of its massive body facing Victor, pale flames flickered faintly. Due to the great distance, the others couldn’t see clearly, but Victor knew that those were the core skulls of the Colossal Slime Behemoth—at least several hundred of them, perhaps more.

Victor had been observing it for nearly two hours, but he had only seen the part of its body above the water. He couldn’t yet determine how large the portion beneath the pond was. But the observation distance was absolutely safe. This position had actually been chosen by Caligula, and given his timid and cautious nature, he had certainly left a wide margin for error.

The fact that the Colossal Slime Behemoth’s Despair Gaze had no effect on Victor’s party was proof of their safety.

However, after observing each other for so long, the Colossal Slime Behemoth’s patience had run out. Perhaps it was to drive away the invaders, or perhaps it coveted the prey that had delivered itself to its doorstep. Its dark, ugly body蠕动ed upward, increasing its height by a third, then collapsed inward, creating the illusion that it was taking a deep breath. Immediately after, dozens of disgusting tumors bulged from the Colossal Slime Behemoth’s ink-green surface. Each tumor had a pair of pale, fiery eyes. They writhed and struggled on the behemoth’s body, like malevolent spirits trying to break free from their bonds.

Narsen cried out in alarm, “It’s going to vomit!”

Charlotte and Dayne quickly raised their monoculars. They saw the behemoth’s collapsed body suddenly swell forward, stirring up a violent gust of air that made the branches of the trees in front of it whip backward. Dozens of dark, slimy masses were launched like projectiles from a catapult, soaring for several kilometers before crashing into the dense forest with a series of splats.

“How disgusting!” Charlotte said, her willow-like brows furrowed in revulsion.

“Terrifying! It has a move like that?” Dayne carefully searched for the “slime-projectiles” that had landed in the forest but found nothing. He lowered his monocular and asked in confusion, “What is it trying to do? The globs it spat out can’t even reach our position.”

“Could it be… that the things it vomited are all Slime Behemoths?” Charlotte exclaimed, the possibility dawning on her.

“They are Slime Behemoths. Forty-four of them in total—seven Silver-rank, and the remaining thirty-seven are Bronze-rank. Heh, they want to capture us,” Victor sneered.

A blue halo lit up around his dark golden pupils. Victor activated Wings of the Wind Sprite and, from a distance of thirty-one kilometers, used Nemesis to lock onto the fastest-moving Slime Behemoth. A current of air swirled around its head, the cyan wind elements condensing into indigo void wind elements. Like a sword of lightning, it pierced the space between the creature’s pale, shining eyes. The sharp air turbulence then violently exploded, shredding its core skull and more than half of its black, gelatinous body into pieces.

The troublesome Silver-rank Undead Creature was instantly reduced to a pile of literal muck.

Victor shook his head, feeling as if he were using a butcher’s knife to kill a chicken. His real opponent should have been the Mythical-rank Colossal Slime Behemoth.

That’s right, the Colossal Slime Behemoth was a Mythical-rank Undead Creature, and a rare pan-conscious collective at that.

Although they were both Mythical-rank, Victor had to admit that he had no good way of dealing with the Colossal Slime Behemoth. He was confident he could triumph over the mythical Hydra Lizard, but he had no chance of victory against a Mythical-rank undead pan-conscious collective.

Who knew how many core skulls were in that monster’s belly? For all he knew, every slime monster in this Black Forest was a part of it. Destroying it might be more difficult than capturing a large fortress filled with soldiers, including numerous Extraordinary Knights.

The greatest value of a fortress was increasing the fault tolerance of the defenders. An Extraordinary powerhouse’s abilities had limits. If the fortress’s fault tolerance was high, their own fault tolerance was low. That was why no extraordinary being would single-handedly attack a well-defended fortress.

The Colossal Slime Behemoth’s fault tolerance was astonishingly high. In comparison, the expeditionary force was at a huge disadvantage.

However, any creature that can die can be killed. Undead Creatures were no exception.

Manpower is limited, but wisdom is infinite. Wisdom and knowledge were a form of power, the power to understand and utilize the Laws.

Victor currently judged that the Colossal Slime Behemoth’s range of activity seemed to be restricted to the four-hundred-square-kilometer clearing. This conclusion was based on two points. First, if it could crawl out, this Black Forest would cease to exist. Second, upon discovering invaders spying from the forest, it had only spat out dozens of Slime Behemoths to capture or drive them away.

The movement speed of these Undead Creatures definitely couldn’t compare to the Colossal Slime Behemoth’s. The large slime could lunge two to three hundred meters with each undulation. It only appeared to move slowly; when it truly moved, it was like an avalanche.

If the Colossal Slime Behemoth was indeed trapped, Victor had plenty of ways to deal with it, though it would take a great deal of time.

Of course, he didn’t have all the information yet. A Mythical-rank Undead Creature would always have a few trump cards. The most critical question was, what was the point of killing the Colossal Slime Behemoth?

Aside from a pile of blackened skulls, it was nothing but stinking mud. No sane person would bother with a slime monster, which was perhaps one of the objective conditions that allowed it to become what it was.

As the dozens of Slime Behemoths drew closer, Victor finally said, “Let’s go. We’re heading back.”

Aka was the first to respond. He didn’t forget Dayne, tucking the priest under one arm and leaping directly from the canopy of one tree to another, quickly disappearing into the distance.

Victor was the last to leave. He gauged the pursuit distance of the Slime Behemoths to determine the Mythical-rank undead’s territorial range—that is, the Colossal Slime Behemoth’s control radius over the other Undead Creatures.

The Bronze-rank Slime Behemoths gave chase for over two hundred fifty kilometers before stopping, while the Silver-rank ones pursued for a full five hundred ten kilometers. Victor had Dili transform into her Dragon-form, freeze a Silver-rank Slime Behemoth into a block of ice, and then move it five hundred fifty kilometers away before thawing it.

After the Slime Behemoth regained its ability to move, it began to pursue Victor based on its undead instinct to feed.

From this, he could determine that the Colossal Slime Behemoth’s dominion only radiated five hundred fifty kilometers. Beyond that distance, the Slime Behemoths it split off would lose control and become free-roaming Undead Creatures.

After returning to the camp, Victor ordered the expeditionary force to accelerate their resource Gathering and increase their supplies, while he continued to probe the Colossal Slime Behemoth’s characteristics.

Alchemy Tower Seven, the Ant-man colony, and the Colossal Slime Behemoth were all pan-conscious collectives. This was no coincidence, but rather a continuous lineage of Alchemy Tower technology. All signs indicated that the Colossal Slime Behemoth was closely related to the Assyrian Empire. However, Victor knew little about the Assyrians in the endless forest.

The memory crystal of the Secret Order alchemist had no description of the Assyrian Empire; this piece of the knowledge jigsaw puzzle was still blank. Victor could only infer the origins of the Assyrians from subtle clues.

Primordial humans who accepted the bloodline of an Ancient Behemoth would become non-human races, such as Dwarves, Halflings, barbarians, and of course, Assyrians. The Dwarves and Halflings were certainly vassal races created by the Elves; they could be blessed by the Sun Tree and Moon Tree to enhance their bloodline power. The history of the barbarians was relatively short, no more than thirty thousand years, and they had no liege-vassal relationship with the Elves. This meant that the barbarians might be a non-human race developed by the Alchemical Empire. If this deduction was correct, it proved that the ancient Alchemical Empire also had the ability to create vassal races.

The Assyrians were most likely a vassal non-human race created by the Alchemical Empire. Their history could be traced back to the late period of the Alchemical Empire, no more than thirty thousand years ago.

Judging from the Assyrian Empire’s geographical location, they were neighbors with the Ant-man monsters, warring with each other in the endless forest. The Elves called them the Asoerta and had even given them one of the Elves’ sacred objects to help the Asoerta fight the Ant-man monsters.

The relationship between the Elves and the Alchemical Empire was special, describable as being both tutor and disciple as well as allies. How could the Secret Order alchemists conduct their forbidden research in the endless forest without the Elves’ spies knowing? But the Secret Order’s original intention for creating the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower was to deploy it near The Great Chasm by Aylanta to deal with the demons of the Abyss.

This was completely in line with the interests of the Elven Empire.

Victor had reason to believe that the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower was a joint research project between the Elven royal family and the Secret Order alchemists. At the very least, the small-scale swarm left behind by the King of the Spirit Realm was provided to the Secret Order by the Elves. Otherwise, how could the Secret Order have found such an excellent experimental subject in the endless forest?

The Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower was one hundred percent out of control. The reason was unknown, but the more you think about it, the more terrifying it becomes.

Victor was certain that the Elves and the Secret Order had implemented a countermeasure—the Asoerta, who were transformed primordial humans. The Elves had even contributed a sacred object—Freya’s Tear.

After the collapse of the Alchemical Empire, the Assyrian Empire held back the Ant-man legions until, more than fifteen hundred years ago, a Paladin from the Radiant Church destroyed their altar. The Ant-man monsters broke free from the Assyrian Empire’s grasp. Their first target was the Alchemy Tower in the Centaur Hills, but the Elves’ Silverhawk City and the Forest Centaurs held them back.

On the eve of Victor’s Activation of the Alchemy Tower in the Centaur Hills, the Forest Centaurs withdrew. Now, the Ant-man problem had become Victor’s problem.

Coincidentally, Victor also housed the bloodline of the Sun Elves. If he defeated the Ant-man queen, absorbed her power, and then transformed into a Sun Elf himself, the Elven Empire would not only gain a Sun Elf Emperor but also a level 10 Alchemy Tower.

Such laying the groundwork was a feat far beyond the means of any ordinary being.

The further Victor walked, the more treacherous the path ahead seemed. The Force of Destiny felt like a pre-woven spiderweb waiting for him to step into its scheme.

Coincidentally, another incarnation of the Moon Goddess was called the Spider Lady. The Secret Order alchemist had said that she had seized the authority of the King of the Spirit Realm during the Twilight Era; the mythical nine-headed hydra had said that the King of the Spirit Realm had once imprisoned the souls of an Ancient God’s offspring in an attempt to open a spirit realm plane.

The Colossal Slime Behemoth’s belly was full of Assyrian skulls. Was that not also a means of imprisoning souls?

The Ant-man Queen was related to the King of the Spirit Realm, and the Colossal Slime Behemoth was also related to the King of the Spirit Realm. The Secret Order alchemists and the Elves had clearly dismembered the King of the Spirit Realm, then revived and enslaved him.

At this point, Victor could only brace himself and press on. Fortunately, he was the Mind’s Dominator, and a priest of the Lord of Radiance was traveling with him.

For the next half a month, Victor and his Dragonkin handmaidens monitored the Colossal Slime Behemoth nonstop, but they never saw any descendants of the Assyrians come to offer skulls to it.

Victor found this very strange, but because the observation period was too short, he did not delve deeper into this doubt. He was now worried that the Elemental Rune Crystal the Secret Order used to control the Ant-man queen was hidden under the big slime’s rear end.

With ample preparation, Victor brought Beldina near the Colossal Slime Behemoth. The whole process could be described as a close call, but the little Inspector was unable to perceive any Elemental Rune Crystals near the big slime.

This result left Victor with mixed feelings, though on the whole, his worries outweighed his relief. If the big slime was the guardian of the Elemental Rune Crystal, Victor would have to kill it. Unfortunately, it wasn’t. If not even a Mythical-rank Undead Creature was guarding the Elemental Rune Crystal, then where was the crystal hidden, and who was responsible for guarding it?

Finding the Elemental Rune Crystal might be simple, or it might be more difficult than killing the big slime. Victor hated the unknown, but he also had the courage and confidence to face reality.

He brought Bobo and Tiantian to different locations and had them use the wayfinding staves to point toward the ruins of the Asoerta temple. The staves consistently pointed towards the distant mountains to the west of the Black Forest. Victor visually estimated it to be a mountainous highland two thousand kilometers away.

The destination was already very near. The expeditionary force could reach it in as little as four days by traveling straight through the Black Forest, but that would mean encountering the Undead Creatures within. Victor chose to bypass the big slime’s territory, heading north along the Shallowwater River and then pressing west. It would take a journey of about four thousand kilometers to reach the Assyrians’ mountain highlands.

The food supplies the expeditionary force had gathered and stored were enough to last them through the four-month winter. Victor saw no need to provoke the big slime. It was better to let it continue lying in its lair.

Before the team set out, Bobo and Tiantian, following the custom of Halfling adventurers, carved a mark on a large tree. Adventurers’ marks held an irreplaceable, practical significance for a Halfling adventurer’s advancement, and Victor never stopped Bobo and Tiantian from doing so. If he were to stop them from leaving their marks, he might as well not bring them along at all. In fact, the Randell Expeditionary Force also left marks along their route to prevent any companions from getting lost.

Victor watched as Bobo and Tiantian used their small knives to cut away a thick piece of bark and engrave an intricate pattern onto the smooth trunk. Once the pattern was carved, they would use a potion and mud to glue the bark back in place.

“You should leave Elvish script,” Victor suddenly said to the Halfling brothers in Elvish.

Bobo and Tiantian turned their heads and looked at Victor in confusion.

Victor smiled and said lightly, “Just write, ‘Forest of Despair. A rank-8 Lord of Despair lies within.’”

Chapter 785: The Strange Bird from Underground

The trail left by the Randell Expeditionary Force as it crossed the forest was especially obvious. This trail wasn’t the heavy claw prints of the Alchemical Dragon-Lizards or the droppings left by the warhounds, but the impact of their disruption of the environment.

Every forest maintains a delicate ecological balance, and the arrival of the Randell Expeditionary Force inevitably broke it. Forest birds took flight in alarm, and beasts of prey retreated. Even after the expeditionary force left a particular forest, the predators within would only dare to return after the invaders’ scent had dissipated. During this empty period, the population of herbivorous animals would increase, attracting nomadic beasts. When the original masters returned to their territory, they would have no choice but to use tooth and claw to decide who was king of the forest.

To a seasoned tracker, the unnatural howls of battling beasts were as conspicuous as a lighthouse in the dead of night.

The Randell Expeditionary Force’s movement through the forest was like a behemoth swimming through a placid lake; even if it did nothing, it would leave conspicuous ripples on the surface.

In light of this, Victor avoided the Ant-man’s marching route, choosing to head for the ruins of the Assyrian Empire through the primeval forest to the north. This was all thanks to the wondrous staff of the great adventurer Oakbarrel, brought by Bobo and Tiantian. Otherwise, the Randell Expeditionary Force would have had to risk being discovered by the Ant-men and trek through the forest near their marching route.

As they passed through the forests on the outskirts of Silverhawk City, Victor had considered that the Elves might send out scouts to track the Randell Expeditionary Force. However, the threads of fate were already entwined around him; avoiding contact with the Elves was pointless. Victor wasn’t actually concerned about any tracking measures Silverhawk City might take.

After all, he could communicate with the Elves, whereas the Ant-men were his mortal enemies.

Over the past few months, Victor had been learning Elvish from the Halfling brothers. Through his conversations with them, he had gained a clearer understanding of Silverhawk City, including the Elven empire’s combat profession legacy system and life tier system.

While scouting for Undead Creatures in the Black Forest, he had indeed discovered scouts from Silverhawk City one hundred and twenty kilometers behind them. There were fifteen of them in total, with ten war beasts: five Wild Elf War Dancers, three Tree Elf Wind Walk Archers, four Dwarf Ridge Guards, one Dwarf Prophet, and one Halfling adventurer.

The Dwarf warriors had brought eight bighorn sheep as mounts and pack animals. The Halfling adventurer’s animal companions were two Ferocious Black Wolves. The Elven warriors were all on foot. Victor recognized one of them—the female Wild Elf he had casually rescued in Wild Bee Valley. She was now a Tier 3 War Dancer with war paint on her cheeks.

With the strength of this squad, it was unlikely they could have trailed him all the way from Silverhawk City to the vicinity of the Forest of Despair. The beastmen lords along the way wouldn’t dare provoke Victor, but they wouldn’t be so lenient with a small band of Elven scouts. Their armor was exquisite, with few signs of battle. Victor believed there had to be at least one other true powerhouse among them. She was most likely the friend Bobo and Tiantian held in such high esteem: the General of Silverhawk City, the Tier 5 Wild Elf War Dancer—Iluth Moonsong.

As Victor understood it, the Bobo-Tiantian brothers and Iluth Moonsong were on the same side. At the very least, Iluth Moonsong was aware that Bobo and Tiantian had gone to the temple of Asoerta in search of the Elven sacred object.

Back in Wild Bee Valley, Victor had sensed Iluth Moonsong’s Gold rank strength. Now, she was able to evade him before he could even discover her companions. With such keen intuition, she could indeed lead her subordinates safely through the territories of forest monsters.

Iluth Moonsong probably wouldn’t plunge headfirst into the dangerous Forest of Despair. Victor had the Halfling brothers leave a message in Elvish as a gesture of goodwill to the general from Silverymoon City. But as a great human noble, Victor could be said to have no good intentions toward the Elves.

The Alchemy Tower’s Rune Crystal that the Alchemical Ant-Queen coveted was on Victor’s person. His initial idea was to use the Rune Crystal from Alchemy Tower No. 7 to absorb and control the Ant-Queen’s crystal. At the very least, he could use himself as bait to draw the attention of the Ant-man Legion, helping the human allied forces gain the initiative on the battlefield.

With news of the Abyss demon having reached the Centaur Hills, it was now uncertain whether Sylvia could organize a powerful mobile legion. In that case, if necessary, Victor could only retreat into Silverhawk City’s sphere of influence and drag the Elves into the mess, forcing them to send out troops to annihilate the main Ant-man force.

Victor wouldn’t feel ashamed for this. Helping Iluth Moonsong was, in fact, helping himself. The problem with the Randell Expeditionary Force was its lack of backup. The Wild Elf General, however, was strong enough to protect herself. If her squad didn’t drain the expedition’s vigor, they had the right to negotiate to become Victor’s backup.

If there were no fundamental conflicts between them, Victor could trade the Elven sacred object for Iluth Moonsong’s cooperation.

That thing, he really didn’t want to touch it at all.

The appearance of the Lord of Despair made Victor feel the pressure, because the Undead feared nothing and would proactively attack any creature that passed by. If Asoerta had undergone the same cataclysm one thousand five hundred years ago and become a lair for the Undead, the Randell Expeditionary Force’s days of easy “touring” would be over.

Frequent battles would limit the explorers’ room to maneuver and could even cause casualties. Neither the Randell Expeditionary Force nor Iluth Moonsong’s scout squad would be able to explore the ruins of the Assyrian Empire safely.

If the Wild Elf General was smart enough, she would soon bring her subordinates to rendezvous with the Randell Expeditionary Force.

Of course, Victor wouldn’t approach them himself. They would have to request the protection of the Randell Expeditionary Force.

Out of caution, Victor ordered the expedition to maintain an ample supply of resources. The Randell Expeditionary Force’s advance slowed. For every half-month of travel, they would stop for ten days to scout the surroundings for signs of the Undead, gather resources, and set up hidden supply caches in preparation for the coming rainy and snowy season.

The situation in Asoerta was still unclear. If there truly were powerful Undead there, the Randell Expeditionary Force had to prepare for the worst. Should high-intensity conflict break out, these hidden supply caches would be the key to the expedition’s survival.

It was now the second month of the Season of Water. The expedition had traveled over three thousand kilometers around the outskirts of the Forest of Despair, and the forested highlands indicated by the wayfinding staff were now clearly visible.

The right-flank scout Commander, Klaus, sat cross-legged on the ground, shoulder-to-shoulder with his sword-wielding handmaiden, Molina, their backs against a towering tree so large it would take five people to encircle it. He dictated his adventure journal, which his favored mistress wrote down on parchment.

“It has been almost a full year since the expedition set out. Aside from one battle against the Half-dragons in the Great Marsh, we have barely encountered any decent fights, let alone suffered any casualties. This is a miracle, a miracle brought to us by my Master, the noble His Highness Randell.”

“The primeval forest is fraught with peril. There are powerful monsters, ferocious beasts, insidious poisonous snakes, and terrifying Undead Creatures, but the most frightening thing is the endless darkness. It constantly erodes one’s mind and will, bit by bit, causing one to become lost in illusion until finally being devoured by the darkness, becoming a part of the endless forest.”

“That’s right, the endless forest has a will of its own. Its vastness and shadows will assimilate any intruder. Even a senior knight like myself, if I lost my way, would either die of getting lost, thirst, and hunger, or be killed by monsters and beasts; or I would adapt to the forest’s will, forget my conviction as a Knight, lose my family’s honor, and stray from the radiant path, turning into a human-shaped beast in the forest. How is that any different from death?”

“One’s perception of the forest gradually forms a terrifying impression in the mind. ‘Where am I?’ ‘Am I lost?’ ‘This place seems safe enough. I don’t know what dangers lie ahead, so I should just stay here.’ These thoughts in my mind are all a denial of my own self… Fortunately, my noble Master has led my companions and me to conquer the forest of terror in our hearts.”

“The Ferocious warriors and Savage warhounds can sense danger in advance. This is very important, but what is the danger? Should we attack, defend our position, or retreat to eliminate the danger? The Ferocious warriors and Savage warhounds cannot answer this most critical question. If we choose the wrong response, the result could be fatal.”

“Always discovering the enemy first is an advantage for achieving victory, but a wise decision is the key to winning. In the forest, we see trees, humus, birds, animals, and insects, but Master sees the traces of change in time and space. His Light of Wisdom illuminates the entire Black Forest.”

“The expedition moved along the edge of the Forest of Despair. Because the powerful monsters and beasts fear the Undead in the Forest of Despair, its edge is very safe. None of us knew where the edge of the Forest of Despair was, but Master did. In his eyes, forests with the same types of trees are distinct, clearly demarcated areas. He can accurately calculate the Undead’s domain. Anyone else would have had to rely on trial and error to determine the route. It is because of Master’s extraordinary wisdom that the expedition created the miracle of traveling over ten thousand kilometers in six months without a single casualty.”

“The Halfling adventurers Bobo and Tiantian call Master Randell a Tier 9 Demigod. I don’t think they are exaggerating….”

A rustling of footsteps came from the woods. Klaus stopped dictating and turned his head to see the imposing figure of Rogers. Clad in a full suit of hide armor and carrying a small pouch, he walked over and greeted him, “Klaus, writing in your diary again? What’s the use of writing that stuff? With this much time, you’d be better off practicing the visualization technique or the Randall Combat Breathing Method that Master taught us.”

Another thing gained from marching through the Black Forest was the deep friendship between companions. Rogers, of mountain folk stock, and Klaus were originally from two different worlds, but now they were like real brothers.

Klaus remained seated, looking up with a laugh. “In the future, I will revise my diary into a biography, a precious treasure for my descendants. If my biography can enhance my family’s resources and heritage and be placed on a shelf in my liege lord’s secret vault, that would be the glory of Klaus Randell, Knight.”

Rogers shook his head, unable to understand his knight brother’s thinking. He tossed the small pouch to him and sat down on the ground. “Here. This is a treasure I plan to offer to Master. When he rewards me with a portion, I’ll give you half.”

Klaus opened the pouch and pulled out a handful of green-veined amber. “So much green-veined amber,” he said in surprise. “This must be worth a lot of money, right?”

“When Uncle Iron Hammer and I were smuggling mountain goods, green-veined amber of this quality sold for this much.” Rogers held up three fingers, looking quite pleased with himself.

“Thirty Gold Sols a piece?”

“Haha, three hundred Gold Sols. There are seventy-six pieces here, worth twenty-two thousand eight hundred Gold Sols.”

Klaus was stunned by the price. He quickly put the amber back in the pouch, scratched his head, and said hesitantly, “Master told us to only gather food, medicinal herbs, and useful resources, and not to do anything extra. If you present this amber, Master will probably be unhappy.”

Rogers grimaced and whispered, “I was leading some men to hunt wild boars and forest deer nearby. We had just caught four wild boars when Lady Dili came over and told us to go into the woods and pick up treasure… which was amber. We spent a long time rummaging under the leaves and found several hundred pieces of purple-veined amber, which I’ve never seen before. Lady Dili took them all. I just picked up some of the green-veined amber she didn’t want, intending to offer it to Master.”

He paused and gave Klaus a subtle look. Klaus had no choice but to have his sword-wielding handmaiden leave. Once Molina was a good distance away, he heard Rogers say in an even lower voice, “Lady Dili took all the purple-veined amber. You should go persuade her. The purple-veined amber should be offered to Master. In any case, I won’t hoard treasure for myself. It’s against the rules.”

The mountain folk camp distinguished between communal property and private property. Any prey captured by the mountain folk hunters had to be handed over to the chief for distribution, and the chief would give the choicest parts of the prey to the hunters first. Since joining the Randell Smuggling Caravan, Rogers had always adhered to the rules of the mountain folk and had won unanimous praise from the caravan leaders. The simple-natured young mountain folk man held these rules as a guiding principle. Worried that Dili might fall out of favor with their Master for hoarding the amber, he asked his best brother, Klaus, to persuade her to change her mind.

Klaus was younger than Rogers but understood the ways of the world better. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “The relationship between Master and the four ladies is not something we can comment on. Even though Lady Dili has been protecting the right-flank scouts this whole time, we can’t get involved in the Earl’s Royal Court affairs.”

“Royal Court affairs?”

“Oh, the internal affairs of the lord’s manor.” Klaus slapped his forehead and warned, “You must remember that Lady Sylvia is his lady. Don’t meddle in anything else… If you don’t listen to me, you’ll die a horrible death.”

Rogers nodded. “Alright, brother, I’ll listen to you. By the way, while we were digging for amber, we found the remains of a spotted tiger. It looked like it had been dead for about two months. I found a feather next to it. Take a look…”

With that, he pulled out a long, gray feather from behind his back. It was as long as an adult’s forearm.

Klaus took the feather and examined it carefully for a moment before looking up, his expression grave. “This is… a feather from the wing of a snake-tailed vulture.”

The snake-tailed vulture, a widely distributed carrion-eating bird of prey, was named for the snake-like tail that trailed behind it. Due to its cumbersome body, the snake-tailed vulture was not a skilled flier. They relied on their staggering numbers to snatch food from the jaws of beasts of prey and could also spew a foul-smelling acid. If a predator didn’t want to be stained with the vulture’s stench, it was best to leave its prey to these robbers.

Rogers knew more about snake-tailed vultures than Klaus did. He nodded and said, “I think it’s a snake-tailed vulture’s flight feather too… With a feather this long, that vulture must be as tall as me when it’s on the ground.”

Among the core members of the House of Randell, Rogers’s physique was second only to Caligula’s; he was a Ferocious warrior over two meters tall.

According to common knowledge from monsterology, flying birds couldn’t be too large. The snake-tailed vulture was already the largest known flying bird to humans, with an average height of around 1.6 meters when standing on the ground. If they were any larger, they wouldn’t be able to fly at all.

The feather Rogers brought back was highly unusual. Klaus thought it over carefully, then stood up and said grimly, “Go and recall all the scouts. I’ll find Lady Dili, and then we’ll all go check the place where you found the feather.”

Commander Klaus gave the order, and the entire right-flank scout unit, including the Dragonkin handmaiden Dili, moved out. They split into seven squads, advancing under alternating cover as they infiltrated the suspicious patch of woods.

In the second month of the Season of Water, the sky was thick with dark clouds. Even in the sparse woods, the light was as dim as dusk. A pale, cold mist drifted among the trees, adding a touch of sinister horror. The scouts did not light their torches. Their war boots made creaking sounds as they stepped on the rotten dead branches and leaves. Klaus saw the remains of the spotted tiger Rogers had mentioned and gestured behind him, signaling the scouts to spread out and maintain vigilance. He and Rogers, along with four Source-blood militiamen, went forward to inspect the remains but found no further clues.

“Do you sense any danger?” Klaus asked, turning his head, his Adamantine longsword drawn.

Rogers glanced at the Savage warhounds, which were sniffing around everywhere, and shook his head. “No danger… Besides insects, there’s not even a single living thing nearby.”

Klaus listened intently, then cast an inquisitive glance at Dili, who was not far away. She shrugged, indicating that she hadn’t sensed any danger either.

“Release an Aberrant Rat to test the waters. Everyone, back up a little.”

Klaus waved his hand. A Lithe Ape militiaman pulled an Aberrant Rat the size of a wildcat from a cage and used a whistle to command it to forage in the woods.

The starving Aberrant Rat scurried under the dead leaves to hunt for insects. The leaves it disturbed rippled across the ground as it moved, and in a moment, it had covered a distance of a hundred meters.

Suddenly, a large section of the thick layer of decaying leaves bulged upward. A strange bird, two meters tall, burst out from underground, flapping its wings. Its wingspan was over six meters. With a featherless neck and a snake-like tail, it was clearly a snake-tailed vulture, but magnified three times over. Pale flames flickered in its eye sockets. It opened its pitch-black beak and let out a piercing shriek.

The Aberrant Rat, which had been fleeing under the leaves, instantly froze upon hearing the strange bird’s cry.

“It’s an Undead Creature!”

Klaus unhesitatingly launched a charging Thrust. His entire body shot forward like an arrow from a bow, swift as a thunderbolt, towards the giant snake-tailed vulture that had just emerged from the ground.

But someone was faster than the senior knight. A graceful figure flashed before Klaus’s eyes. Lady Dili had already appeared in front of the Undead Creature. The massive crescent-shaped axe blade flashed with three streams of light, severing the strange bird’s wings and talons. Black blood sprayed from the wounds. Before the terrifying bird could let out a second shriek, Dili had grabbed its beak and slammed its head down into the fallen leaves.

The Dragonkin handmaiden Dili changed her posture, stepping on the Undead Creature’s head with her long war boots. Beaming with joy, she said, “Bring a thick cloth and blindfold it… The King will be interested in this one.”

Chapter 786: Black Blood

“The right-wing scouts have captured an Undead Creature.”

Victor’s fears had become reality. He immediately rushed to the scene with his men, simultaneously ordering the soldiers of the Randell Expeditionary Force to converge on his position as a precaution.

Daphdilier had already taken off her horned helmet, her green hair cascading down to her waist, revealing a stunningly beautiful face. Seeing her Master and several of her sisters approaching, she went up to them, presenting her find like a treasure. “My King, I had my people collect treasures from the forest. Rogers noticed something unusual, and Klaus found the Undead Creature. He wanted to kill it, but I captured it alive… This is the forest treasure I collected. It’s beautiful amber.”

The Dragonkin handmaiden briefly recounted what had happened, handing the pocket full of purple-veined amber to Victor.

Seeing this, Rogers quietly breathed a sigh of relief. He followed the rules and hoped others would do the same. Since Lady Daphdilier, the protector of the right-wing scouts, had handed over the treasure, the honest-natured Rogers naturally gave the green-veined amber he had found to My Lady Charlotte, who was standing behind their Master.

The four Dragonkin handmaidens all gathered around Victor, their gazes fixed on the pocket in his hand. Charlotte opened the pocket Rogers had turned in, glanced inside, and casually tossed it to Reno for safekeeping before squeezing into the circle of Dragonkin handmaidens. She was intensely curious about the forest treasure Daphdilier had mentioned.

In this regard, there wasn’t much difference between women and dragons.

Even the sweet and innocent Beldina was on her tiptoes, craning her neck to get a better look from the back. Unfortunately, she was too short, and no one paid her any mind as she hopped madly and grumbled.

It was Victor’s first time seeing purple-veined amber, but his attention wasn’t on the treasure the Dragonkin handmaidens had collected at all. Hemmed in by five stunning beauties and one sweet little girl, unable to move a step, Victor wisely tossed the bag to the Halfling brothers who were peeking over curiously. “Adventurers, explain to them what’s in here. You can take two as payment for sharing your knowledge. Half of the rest goes to Daphdilier, and the remainder will be divided equally among the ladies.”

“Wow, this is forest amber crystal.”

“What’s forest amber crystal?”

“Beautiful ladies, what humans call amber is what the Elves call ‘forest amber crystal.’ The Elves believe that forest amber crystal, formed from the condensed life spirit of forest trees, contains the power of nature. It can be used to neutralize poison and heal wounds, and it is also a very important spellcasting component. Forest amber crystal is needed for warrior advancement rituals and the divination rituals of Dwarf prophets. The older the forest amber crystal, the more potent it is… This kind with purple veins is extremely rare. Only ancient trees over five hundred years old can form purple-veined amber crystal at the moment of their natural death.”

“Little shorty, tell me, how many pure and beautiful fire element crystals can one purple-veined amber crystal be exchanged for?”

“Powerful lady, I believe one purple-veined amber crystal can be exchanged for ten top-grade fire element crystals of the same size.”

“Can it be traded for delicious pancakes?”

“Of course! It can be traded for one hundred pancake houses! No, two hundred pancake houses! And each pancake house must have a Halfling chef whose pancake-making skills are just a tiny bit worse than Bobo’s.”

“I want to trade for the little shorty’s barbecue joint…”

“Get lost! My King said none of this treasure is for you!”

“Hmm, Aka is a boy, and Bel is a lady, so Bel gets some…”

“You’re a little girl, not a lady, so you don’t get any either!”

“…Waaah! I want treasure! Sob, sob, sob, I want a pancake house…”

Victor broke free and went to the Undead Creature, observing it carefully and asking Klaus and Rogers for details. The strange bird, which resembled a snake-tailed vulture, had its wings and claws severed. The wounds were no longer bleeding—or rather, it couldn’t be called ‘blood.’ It was a black, gelatinous substance, similar to that of a Slime Behemoth, but not as thick.

Although Victor didn’t know what this substance was, he was certain the strange undead bird’s blood had semi-elemental characteristics. What was suspicious was that it possessed the structural features of a natural bird—feathers, muscles, bones, and blood vessels—yet Victor could hear no heartbeat or breath. Deep within its black pupils, two faint, pale flames flickered, just like in the eye sockets of a Slime Behemoth.

The monstrous bird’s size defied natural law. A normal Serpent-headed vulture of that size would be completely unable to fly. If it were one of the large land-bound birds of prey, it wouldn’t need a 6.4-meter wingspan.

Narsen picked up the monstrous bird’s severed claw and wing, examined them, and said, “My lord, the bones are solid. They’re quite heavy, and very tough.”

Victor’s expression was grave as he walked into the woods where the monstrous bird was found. The trees here were much smaller than the gnarled ancient trees, generally no more than fifty years old. This was a common sight in the Endless Forest: when an ancient grove died off, the trees would decay and rot, and new saplings would grow rapidly in the rich humus, forming a new forest.

The remains of a spotted tiger were left where they lay, not yet covered by the meter-thick layer of humus, which indicated it hadn’t been dead for long. Victor noticed its skull had been pecked open, the wound matching the monstrous bird’s hooked beak. Snake-tailed vultures loved to eat their prey’s brains, but this monstrous bird’s neck was too thick for it to pick the brains out from inside the spotted tiger’s cranial cavity through the neck. Instead, it had pecked open the hard skull to eat the nutritious brain tissue.

A normal Serpent-headed vulture lacked this strength and feeding habit, and a Slime Behemoth, one of the Undead Creatures, lacked the intelligence to adapt to its environment this way.

Victor leaped to the top of a large tree, motioning for Narsen, Klaus, and Rogers to follow. He gazed at the towering mountain range to the west, and after a moment, he asked, “Rogers, what are your thoughts on that tiger?”

The Ferocious warrior, who came from a background of mountain folk hunters, answered, “Master, the snake-tailed vultures I know don’t hunt. They usually scavenge on the spot, and can quickly devour a large wild boar. This spotted tiger is about the size of an adult male boar. There are no signs of a struggle around the remains. It was either a corpse that the monstrous bird moved here from elsewhere, or the bird killed it with a single blow and brought it to these woods to eat at its leisure. Most predatory birds that actively hunt have a habit of stashing their food. Given the monstrous bird’s size, it may have changed its scavenging habits.”

Victor was noncommittal and asked, “Klaus, what are your thoughts on this matter?”

The young Knight of House of Randell said, “Your Highness, snake-tailed vultures build their nests in high places, using the air currents from cliffs to glide. There should be many snake-tailed vultures in the western mountains. I’m worried… that at our destination, we’ll find swarms of these undead creatures that resemble snake-tailed vultures. Perhaps there are other kinds of Undead Creatures there as well.”

“The place we are going holds the source of the Undead Creatures…” Victor smiled faintly and changed the subject. “This needs to be tested! Narsen, can you sense any danger?”

Narsen, standing on a thick branch, shook his head and said in a low voice, “I don’t sense any danger.”

The undead monster bird could tear apart tigers and leopards, but that level of strength wasn’t enough to trigger Narsen’s psychic intuition. But what if there was a large flock of them?

If the monstrous birds were as numerous as snake-tailed vultures, yet a Ferocious warrior couldn’t sense the danger, the advantage of psychic intuition would be completely nullified. At the thought of this possibility, everyone’s mood became as dark and heavy as a sky filled with storm clouds.

“Let Imosen give it a try. We’ll see just how many Undead Creatures are in this forest.”

The Undead Creatures were particularly sensitive to Aberrant Beasts. When the Razorbeast controlled by Imosen charged into the forest, monstrous birds with pale flames flickering in their eyes burst out from the humus. They flapped their wings, stirring up a violent gale, and let out ear-piercing shrieks from their dark, curved beaks as they chased and pecked at the tiger-sized Razorbeast.

As expected, the Razorbeast was torn to shreds by the undead monster birds, and the Randell Expeditionary Force captured four more of the creatures.

Over the next few days, Victor, Imosen the Wizard, Father Dayn, and the others all studied the undead monster birds from their respective fields of expertise, then gathered to discuss their findings.

Inside a temporary command post built from logs, Narsen sat in a chair opposite Victor, a portable charcoal stove boiling water between them. He was the first to speak. “The nearby undead monster birds share similarities with the Slime Behemoths from the Forest of Despair. They have no heartbeat and no breath. When they’re motionless, they’re just like corpses. Ferocious warriors and Savage warhounds can’t sense any danger from a corpse. However, once they launch an attack, the Ferocious warriors and Savage warhounds can then sense the danger.”

He paused, shifted in his chair, and sighed uneasily. “That’s too close, and too late… By the time the undead monsters attack from their hiding places, they are already very close to us. The danger sense is useless; it all comes down to the warriors’ reactions in the moment.”

Victor smiled and said, “Narsen, do you remember how I ambushed the Silver-rank Ant-man chief?”

The Ant-man chief also had keen psychic intuition and superb combat skills. Victor relied on the Life Concealment of his Golden Toad Mystic Form, hiding in the shadows and shooting the Ant-man chief with a heavy crossbow, never once missing. Of course Narsen remembered the time he ambushed the Silver Ant-man with his Master. He himself had now mastered the Life Concealment technique.

“If Undead Creatures didn’t have the ability to lie in wait, it would be difficult for them to capture dire animals brimming with life force, nor could they deal with the Silver-rank Ant-men. This is a problem we must now face, and I will not shrink back because of a small difficulty like this.”

Narsen was startled into awareness, realizing he’d had thoughts of retreating. He quickly adjusted his mentality, his eyes burning as he said, “My lord, no matter who the opponent is, we are fearless! The expeditionary force swears to follow you to the death!”

Victor nodded in satisfaction and asked Imosen, “What about your research findings from the past few days?”

Imosen was a natural expert in zoology, and one of the very best. He had actually studied Serpent-headed vultures quite a bit, but their flying ability was poor, so he ultimately chose to breed the green-eyed eagle, the hegemon of the skies. He couldn’t offer much of an opinion on the Slime Behemoths in the Forest of Despair, but he had a lot to say about the undead monster birds.

“Honored Master, I am certain that these Undead Creatures are transformed Serpent-headed vultures. Aside from their solid bones and oversized bodies, their internal organs are identical to those of a Serpent-headed vulture.” Imosen spoke respectfully but with a reserved air. “The undead monster birds have genders, but individuals cannot reproduce, so it’s impossible for them to increase their numbers through breeding. They have a digestive system, can eat, and can spit acid, but they excrete very, very little waste… I mean, they seem to be able to fully convert the flesh and blood of their prey to grow even larger. They have no heartbeat and no breath. I don’t understand how they move, but what is certain is that they have no vital weak points, yet they can still be killed—for example, by cutting off their heads. Their muscles, bones, and organs all maintain a considerable level of vitality, but the moment they die, their flesh rapidly corrupts and deteriorates, producing large amounts of toxins that can even poison an Aberrant Beast… Also, the undead monster birds’ blood is a black, gelatinous substance, similar to a Slime Behemoth’s, but much thinner than slime.”

Imosen thought for a moment, then added, “I suspect the undead monster birds’ ability to move is related to the vitality level of their bodily tissues, and that vitality level is related to their black blood, as well as the temperature… I can’t explain the issue with the black blood, but the monster birds don’t generate body heat. They seem to be very afraid of the cold.”

Narsen’s eyes lit up, and he said with pleasant surprise, “That’s right! Freezing rain and snow will be here soon. These undead monsters are afraid of the cold, so they deliberately burrow underground to hide. If we climb the mountains during the rainy and snowy season to explore the ruins of the Assyrian Empire, won’t we be able to avoid being harassed by the Undead Creatures? Imosen, you have to confirm this. If you’re wrong, the expeditionary force will lose many warriors.”

Imosen hesitated. Choosing to climb the mountains during the freezing rain and snow season was no joke. If the Undead Creatures suddenly burst out from underground to attack the expeditionary force, combined with the icy conditions and the slippery, steep paths, the situation would definitely be extremely dangerous. After Narsen pointed this out, he didn’t dare to thump his chest and guarantee that the undead monsters would lose their ability to move due to the low temperatures.

“They are indeed not resistant to severe cold,” Victor interjected. “I’ve tested it. The undead monster birds cannot withstand my Chilling Wind.”

Narsen was completely relieved now. His Highness Randell’s Chilling Wind had a wide area of effect; it had once wiped out several thousand beastmen monsters in a single sweep. As long as the undead monster birds couldn’t resist the mental damage of Chilling Wind, they were no threat, even if there were tens of thousands of them.

Victor picked up the fire tongs and poked the charcoal, making the flames leap up and illuminate his incomparably handsome face. He said lightly, “We have currently encountered two different types of Undead Creatures. One is the Slime Behemoth, which is highly semi-elementalized. The other is this highly biological snake-tailed vulture with black blood.”

“The semi-elemental Undead Creature is immune to Chilling Wind but can be harmed by Grasp of the Wind Djinn, though the mental damage from Grasp of the Wind Djinn isn’t enough to destroy it. The black-blooded monsters fear Chilling Wind—you could say they die on contact—but they’re immune to the mental damage of Grasp of the Wind Djinn. Overall, the elemental undead monsters are harder to kill, and the black-blooded monsters are relatively fragile. But what worries me most is precisely the black blood. Do you know why?”

If the Lord of Despair and the Slime Behemoths were sustained by the descendants of the Assyrians, then the black-blooded monsters were very likely ordinary wild animals transformed by some kind of extraordinary being.

It can create Undead Creatures!

Victor put down the tongs, glanced at the distracted Father Dayn, and instructed the others, “All of you, leave. I need to discuss something with Dayn… Imosen, you stay.”

“Ah?”

The Wizard froze for a moment, then returned to his seat. He watched Narsen and the others leave the wooden hut and heard Victor say:

“A few years ago, Princess Elizabeth Frederick disappeared in the north of the Dodor Kingdom. At that time, a powerful monster made of black gelatinous substance attacked the church where Princess Frederick was staying. Dayn, do you know about this?”

Father Dayn raised his head, his gaze focusing before he nodded. “Yes, that was a crime committed by a Legendary Wizard.”

“A Wizard, and behind the Wizard is an evil god… That’s not an entirely accurate way to put it.”

Victor nodded, then changed the subject. “The black-blooded Serpent-headed vultures are three times larger than normal Serpent-headed vultures, and I know the reason why. Ancient creatures were much larger than modern ones. The difference between the black-blooded Serpent-headed vultures and the normal ones is because of atavism.”

Victor could see that both the priest and the Wizard were completely baffled. He waved his hand and said, “There’s no need to question my conclusion. It’s just that you cannot perceive the changes in the Laws of the world. The question you need to consider is, who caused the black-blooded Serpent-headed vultures to undergo atavism?”

“I know! It must be the resurging Ancient God!”

Father Dayn said through gritted teeth, his face contorted with rage, “A Wizard’s talent for Wizardry and the Laws mastered by an Ancient God are connected. The Legendary Wizard who attacked Princess Elizabeth is dead, and it’s impossible for there to be a human Wizard in the Endless Forest. The black-blooded monsters were created by the Ancient God! In the era when It was active, Serpent-headed vultures must have been this large!”

“Your Highness, we must eliminate the resurging Ancient God! It can corrupt the Serpent-headed vultures in the mountains and forests to create black-blooded monsters. It is also a threat to us humans!” Dayn said to Victor, panting heavily.

Victor smiled faintly. “Of course we must eliminate It. Father Miller and I both know that the resurging Ancient God is more interested in humans. But Miller didn’t tell me that the divine arts of Radiance can counter the Undead Creatures of the black-blooded Ancient God. This makes me very curious. Are there other great powers beyond the four elements? A High-ranked Knight’s elemental perception can see through a priest casting divine arts or a Wizard casting Wizardry—all of these are powers of the mind, which are variations of the fire element. But why does the power of the mind manifest in two different attributes: the holy power that shines with platinum-gold light, and the pale flame of the Undead Creatures?”

Dayn was dumbfounded. He shook his head and gave a wry smile. “Your Highness, we’re at such a critical juncture, and you’re still pondering academic questions…”

Victor said, displeased, “To defeat an opponent, you must understand them. To deal with an enemy on the level of a resurging Ancient God, I need the most elite priests and Wizards. Frankly, you two don’t even have the qualifications to assist me.”

Imosen, being unambitious, actually felt a sense of relief at being reprimanded by his Master to his face. He thought that perhaps his weakness meant he wouldn’t have to face the resurging Ancient God.

Dayn, on the other hand, was deeply ashamed. According to the Potian brothers, he was a fifth-rank priest, but the Elves’ combat profession system wasn’t fully compatible with the human power system. A fifth-rank priest was called Gold rank, but that was merely a courtesy title; the Knight Lords did not recognize a fifth-rank priest as being equivalent to a Gold rank.

Among fifth-rank priests, a true Gold-rank priest’s casting speed and spell effectiveness far surpassed Dayn’s current level.

Tragically, against an opponent on the level of a resurging Ancient God, even a Gold-rank priest was not enough. Even a legendary powerhouse like one of the three Patriarchs could only be considered barely adequate.

Victor said coldly, “Things have come to this; what other choice do I have? I can’t just conjure up a Legendary Priest and a Legendary Wizard, can I? Even if you don’t have the strength of top-tier extraordinary beings, you must at least have their mentality, because I will not abandon the subsequent operations.”

Dayn looked up, stunned, and asked cautiously, “Your Highness, what do you mean?”

Victor’s gaze swept past Dayn and landed on Imosen. “What would a top-tier Wizard do upon encountering a resurging Ancient God? Of course, they would draw upon Its Law and precious knowledge.”

Imosen’s eyes widened. He was stunned for a long moment before he finally reacted, saying in terror, “Master, you… you want me to listen to the whisper of Devils? No, I can’t do that! I don’t want to fall into the Abyss! I can’t… Esteemed Father, you have to help me!”

Dayn could only offer his counsel with difficulty. “Your Highness, I’m afraid that’s not appropriate.”

“Not appropriate? Fine.” Victor nodded and said with an elegant smile, “Imosen, you stay here. Tomorrow, I’ll take Beldina to find the ruins of the Assyrian Empire.”

Imosen the Wizard immediately sat back down in his chair and said earnestly, “Master, I will do as you say. But…”

He stammered, “I… I don’t know how to listen to the whispers of the resurging Ancient God.”

“Not just listen, but converse,” Victor said, his expression gentle, his tone as warm as a spring breeze. “The black-blooded snake-tailed vulture can also be considered a beast. Use your Aberration Wizardry to corrupt its soul. If you don’t succeed, I won’t blame you. I will protect Beldina’s and your safety to the best of my ability. Of course, there are certain risks involved in doing this. However, the ancient Wizards were called the Chosen. What they could do, you can do as well. At the very least, you must have the courage to pursue the unknown and the willpower to hold onto yourself. How about this: think it over carefully first. Once you have strengthened your conviction, come back and have Father Dayn pray for you. The Supreme Lord of Radiance will protect you.”

With a mournful expression, Imosen looked at Dayn with pleading eyes and said, “Esteemed Father, I am a devout believer, you know.”

The priest was conflicted, but his professionalism made him say righteously, “Our Lord protects the souls of the Pious. You will surely receive the Redemption of the Holy Light.”

Imosen let out a sigh of relief. He bowed to Victor and Dayn respectively, then left the wooden hut with heavy steps.

Dayn couldn’t help but say, “Your Highness, that’s a resurging Ancient God. It’s nearby—perhaps It has already seen us. Can Imosen really resist Its will?”

Victor gave Dayn a deep look and retorted, “I told Imosen to ask you for a prayer. Are you still going to put on an act with him? Hmph. The ancient Wizards and the Radiant Church once worked closely together. The spell models for divine arts were all drawn with the help of the Mage Council. Divine arts can also be used on Wizards, but for a Wizard, the most important thing is to protect the stability of their soul. It’s not hard to imagine that the divine art models created by Wizards focused on benefiting the soul.”

“To put it bluntly, the Chosen’s Mage Council wanted to turn the Radiant Church into a vassal, to make priests the assistants of the Chosen. This is what led to Her Majesty Inoc’s complete break with them.”

Victor’s gaze was profound, and his tone was placid as he said, “Dayn, at this point, you must cast some things aside. Think like a Gold-rank priest. Cast Heroism Art, Fire of the Mind, Sacred Protection, and Mark of Holy Light on Imosen to help him communicate with the Ancient God. There may be bad consequences for you, but we are all taking a risk.”

What danger was there for Imosen in listening to the whispers of a Devil? At worst, he would be bewitched and become one of the Devil’s claws, but there would still be a chance to save him. The one in real danger was Dayn. Helping a Wizard communicate with a Devil could shake his conviction—losing a casting rank would be a light consequence. It wasn’t impossible that his soul would be assimilated by the Holy Light.

Dayn’s face was a shifting canvas of green and white. For a long time, he couldn’t utter a single word.

Victor stood up and said, “It seems you need time to think it over.”

Dayn murmured, “Yes, I need to be alone for a while. Your Highness, please give me one day.”

Since it concerned a clergyman’s conviction, Victor couldn’t force Dayn, nor could he help him. He nodded. “Fine. I will give you three days. In three days, you will either cast the divine arts on Imosen, or… leave on your own.”

Just as Victor was about to leave, Dayn called out to him from behind. “Your Highness, if I return to our Lord’s kingdom, and Imosen is tainted by the Ancient God, I implore you to end his life.”

Victor’s steps paused for a moment. He raised a hand to push open the door, his voice responding clearly, “I promise.”

Chapter 787: The Lord of Sorrow

At dawn three days later, the core members of the expeditionary force sat on the ground, gathered around a large brazier, listening to Victor tell a story.

“…The Devil agreed to satisfy the fisherman’s curiosity, so the fisherman said: ‘Your body is so immense, and this bottle is so small, it couldn’t even fit one of your fingers. There’s no way I can believe you lived in this tiny bottle for ten thousand years…’ The Devil was furious when he heard this and roared at the fisherman: ‘How dare you, a lowly mortal, question me?!’”

“The fisherman was unafraid and shook his head, saying: ‘You’re going to kill me any moment now. You can’t scare me. Unless you get back into this tiny bottle right in front of my eyes, I won’t believe you really lived in it for ten thousand years.’”

“The Devil laughed heartily and said: ‘What’s so difficult about that?’ With that, he transformed into a plume of thick smoke and slipped into the small bottle. From inside, he gloated: ‘Oh, you foolish and lowly fisherman, do you see now? This is how I live in the bottle.’”

“The fisherman lunged forward and sealed the bottle with its rune-engraved lid. The Devil inside panicked, screaming for the fisherman to let him out…”

Beldina, wrapped in a thick bearskin cloak, sat by Victor’s side, listening with rapt attention. When Victor paused, she lifted her rosy, round face and asked in a childish voice, “And then? And then?”

Victor smiled and affectionately stroked the little girl’s head, continuing, “The Devil swore not to harm the fisherman and promised him countless treasures, the power of a king, immense strength, a long life… The fisherman laughed and said: ‘I want none of the things you promise. Just stay comfortably in your bottle.’ Then, with all his might, he threw the bottle containing the Devil back into the sea… And that’s where the story ends. Bel, after hearing this story, what did you learn?”

Beldina blinked her large, innocent eyes, paused for a moment, then said happily, “I know! The Devil is a fool. He was tricked by the fisherman.”

“…The fisherman is the real fool. If I had met that Devil, I would have captured it and forced it to tell me where the treasure is. If it dared to refuse, I’d slowly roast it with my dragon’s breath,” said the red-haired, red-eyed Laila.

Her idea received the unanimous approval of the other Dragonkin handmaidens. The four female Dragonoids began chattering away, discussing how best to deal with the Devil to seize its countless treasures.

Even though it was a fictional story, it didn’t stop them from fantasizing about the joy of collecting treasure. After all, they had only been born a little over a year ago and were, in fact, more naive than Beldina and Caligula.

Tao De, sitting furthest from Victor, also offered his opinion, “The gap between the fisherman and the Devil was too great. He had no way to ensure the Devil would keep its promise. Throwing the bottle back into the sea was the wisest choice. I think the fisherman was a smart man… At the very least, he knew how to restrain his greed and understood his own limitations.”

The Fisherman and the Devil was a well-known fable in the world of Earth. As for its moral, every reader would have their own opinion, and even the same person might interpret the fable differently at different stages of their life.

Victor had mainly told this story for Imosen’s benefit, and of course, for Father Dayn’s as well.

“The point of this story is courage, and it reveals a certain truth.” Victor looked around at everyone, his gaze finally resting on Imosen. “The soul of a sapient being is sacred and inviolable. You should have a deep understanding of this. Your Wizardry can corrupt the souls of animals, but it doesn’t work on sapient species… Though the Devil’s power is great, it couldn’t read the fisherman’s thoughts, which is why it fell for his bluff and was sealed back in the bottle. If the fisherman had been terrified of the Devil, how could he have seen its foolish nature? Though the fisherman’s strength was meager, his soul was equal to the Devil’s. Both possessed self-awareness, and neither was omniscient or omnipotent. Therefore, a Devil with self-awareness is not a True God. They cannot read your memories and thoughts. You can bluff them, too. But if you willingly open your memories and thoughts to a Devil, it’s the same as jumping into a dark abyss.”

“Imosen, are you ready?”

At Victor’s question, everyone’s gaze turned to Imosen in unison. Narsen put an arm around his shoulder, encouraging him, “Hey, my friend, be brave. You can do this.”

Imosen forced a smile. His personality and way of thinking were not so easily changed. He had some difficulty with communication, always cautious in normal conversations with people, worried he would expose himself. It was only natural for him to be terrified at the prospect of a battle of wits with a “Devil.” But he was also a remarkable father.

“Imosen is the bravest!”

Beldina stood up and said loudly. She seemed to have realized something, ran to her father’s side, hugged his neck, and rubbed her chubby cheeks against Imosen’s, asking coaxingly, “Papa, are you going to fight a Devil? Do you have a bottle to put the Devil in?”

There was one person in this world who always believed Imosen was capable of anything, and that was Beldina. Imosen was willing to do anything for Beldina, even engage in a battle of wits with a Devil.

The smile on the Wizard’s face became natural and sincere as he replied, “Sweetheart, Master Randell has the bottle to catch the Devil. I will stuff it inside.”

Little Bel said seriously, “Papa, you have to be like the brave fisherman and throw the Devil far, far away. We don’t want its treasure, okay?”

Imosen looked at his precious daughter with gentle eyes, smiled and nodded. He stood up, still holding her, and said to Victor, “Master, I’m ready.”

Victor gave the Wizard a deep look and nodded. “Go. Father Dayn is waiting for you in the Church.”

At Dayn’s request, the expeditionary force had spent a day building a small church. The wooden structure was very simple, without even a roof. Inside were benches, a pulpit, and a Holy Light Prayer altar. Dayn had been meditating alone in the small church for a day and a night, and now the time had come for him to perform the divine arts for Imosen.

Imosen took a deep breath and walked toward the nearby wooden church. Just then, Victor looked up at the dark, heavy clouds, and a ring of indigo light glowed in his dark gold eyes. A storm swirled in the distant sky, tearing open the dark clouds like a pair of giant hands, allowing a brilliant ray of dawn to pour down. It landed on the roofless little church, illuminating Dayn, who was dressed in a priest’s short robe.

The morning light was like a spear cast by the Sun God, piercing through the gray forest shrouded in cold mist, appearing exceptionally magnificent and dazzling. This miracle-like scene made everyone stand up involuntarily, dumbfounded and captivated.

Victor had used all his strength, calling upon the wind elements to tear open the clouds ten thousand meters high in the sky to let a single ray of sunlight through. But his power could not last; the thick cloud layer would soon cover the sun again. However, this little bit of time was enough for Dayn to cast a full set of strengthening divine arts.

The extraordinary power of the clergy came too easily. As long as they piously believed in the Lord of Radiance, they could resonate with the Holy Light to cast the most basic divine arts. Because of this, it was exceptionally dangerous for a clergyman who wanted to advance their level of life and freely master holy power. The Church constantly refined its theological theory in the hope that the clergy could understand the relationship between themselves and the holy power, transforming from servants of the Holy Light into masters of holy power.

But how could that be easy?

The Radiant Church had a massive number of clergy, but those who truly reached the Gold rank were exceedingly rare. If Dayn had been able to recognize the essence of the Lord of Radiance as the core of holy power and find a balance between faith and self, Victor wouldn’t have needed to expend so much effort just to blow away a small patch of cloud.

Although Victor couldn’t perform divine arts, he understood the mysteries of the Light of the Mind. He drew down a ray of sunlight to elevate Dayn’s spiritual will, allowing him to feel the favor of the Lord of Radiance. Even if it was an illusion, it could strengthen his conviction, preventing him from developing self-doubting thoughts and thus avoiding being assimilated by the holy power.

Coupled with the special soul-protecting effect of the Poltanos Secret Art, Victor felt that Dayn wouldn’t die from rebuilding his conviction; at worst, he would just drop in rank. As long as he could pass this test of the mind, he would face no obstacles in adjusting his conviction in the future.

Most importantly, Dayn was the only priest in the expeditionary force, and his divine arts could restrain Undead Creatures. Victor, of course, had to do everything possible to save Dayn’s life. Even if Dayn dropped to a first-rank priest, he could still use the powerful divine arts within the sacred object crystal. That was enough.

True experts always turn a chaotic future into the reality they desire. The Raging Wind Sword Saint did everything in his power, using his extraordinary wisdom and strength to create a miraculous spectacle no less impressive than divine art.

Imosen was unaware of his Master’s actions. Just as Victor had anticipated, the emergence of the sunlight made both his and Dayn’s minds singularly focused. The effects of the casting and the receiving of the arts both broke through their respective limits, reaching the true Gold realm.

Bathed in the brilliant golden morning light, Dayn’s expression was serene and resolute as he bestowed a full set of divine arts upon Imosen. When the dark clouds once again blocked the sunlight, his casting was complete. His own aura rapidly weakened, but his eyes were exceptionally bright.

After Imosen the Wizard finished kowtowing to the Holy Crystal, he rose and left the small church. Victor appeared silently at Dayn’s side. His dark gold eyes scanned Dayn up and down as he asked with a smile, “How do you feel?”

Letting out a long breath, Dayn said with a mix of loss and relief, “I… I’ve lost my fifth-rank divine arts and returned to the level of a level four priest. But I helped Imosen communicate with the Devil without being devoured by the Holy Light…”

He raised his right hand, and a platinum-gold brilliance shone from the tip of his index finger. He frowned and said, “I’ve clearly gotten weaker, yet it feels like I’ve gotten stronger. It’s a very strange feeling.”

“You were originally a level four priest. Pontiff Clement secured a chance for your promotion, but the Curia forcibly raising you to a fifth-rank priest wasn’t necessarily a good thing.” Victor patted Dayn’s shoulder and said meaningfully, “Perhaps you will see a part of the world’s truth on the journey ahead, and your mind and will are bound to be shaken. You should be glad that your divine art level has dropped.”

Dayn looked up and asked in surprise and doubt, “Your Highness, the truth of the world you speak of… what is it?”

The ancient Alchemists mastered the High Goblins’ god-creating plan. Victor was now almost certain that the Lord of Radiance was an extraordinary creation of the Alchemical Empire. The Alchemists’ Council and the Mages’ Association didn’t create a god to have ‘God’ ride on their own heads, but rather to use ‘God’ as a tool.

This conclusion would cause the faith of most mediocre clergy to collapse, and the higher their divine art level, the faster they would die. Of course, it was impossible for the Radiant Church to end because of this, as most low-to-mid-rank clergy only believe what they want to believe. If anyone dared to say the Lord of Radiance was a tool, the clergy would beat him to death, or curse him if they couldn’t win. Only those clergy who witnessed it with their own eyes and experienced it firsthand would have to face the severe test of having their faith collapse and be rebuilt.

Father Miller chose Dayn to participate in Victor’s expedition, so Dayn had to accept this test of life and death. The Raging Wind Sword Saint, Randell, also had to put in great effort to help Dayn grow.

Could this be considered falling for old man Miller’s scheme?

Our Lord is not the Lord, the Lord is not our Lord… Victor truly couldn’t say for sure whether the Lord of Radiance had gained self-awareness, but in this wrestling match that transcended time and space, the power of the Lord of Radiance had already entered the field through Father Dayn.

Victor fell silent for a moment, then nodded. “Dayn, congratulations on becoming a veteran Silver rank priest. The Gold rank is not far from you… The rest is up to Imosen.”

After leaving the small church, Imosen walked straight to the largest wooden house in the center of the camp. It was the command room of the Randell Expeditionary Force and the residence of His Highness Randell. Now, His Highness Randell had vacated the house to serve as Imosen’s laboratory.

As he approached the wooden house, before Imosen could raise his hand, the red pine door, which still had its thick bark, was opened from the inside. Two beautiful, sword-wielding handmaidens welcomed Imosen inside. One of them said, “My lord, is there anything else you need us to prepare?”

These two sword-wielding handmaidens had been gifted to Imosen by the Earl to be his concubines and personal guards, taking care of his daily life and protecting his safety. Imosen usually doted on them, and their relationship was, of course, very close. At this moment, however, the sword-wielding handmaidens’ attitude toward Imosen was formal and respectful, devoid of their usual warmth and charm.

Imosen didn’t find this strange. He was immersed in a power he had never felt before. All five of his senses had become extremely sharp, as if his entire being had been pulled from the real world. Everything around him was rendered in minute detail in his eyes. He could even see in his concubines’ eyes the reflection of his own dark red eyes shining with platinum-gold light. He exuded an intimidating coldness and majesty.

A strange thought popped into Imosen’s mind. He wanted to take advantage of the Heroism Art, fire of the mind, mark of Holy Light, and Sacred Protection he was under to test his martial skills against his two concubines. He felt that he could now defeat both of them at the same time with just one hand. In the past, when the sword-wielding handmaidens practiced martial skills with him, they could give him a one-hand handicap, and he still couldn’t win.

The Wizard immediately dismissed this absurd thought from his mind. His gaze fell upon the large wooden table in the center of the hall. On it lay a Black-blooded Serpent-headed Vulture, its wings and talons cut off. Tough Thorium Spider silk bound its torso and beak, immobilizing it.

Looking at the pale flames flickering in the black-blooded monster bird’s eye sockets, a cold smile touched the corner of Imosen’s mouth. He said faintly, “Heh, a weak monster… I don’t need you to prepare anything. Step back. I’m about to corrupt its soul and dig out its secrets.”

“My lord, please wait,” a sword-wielding handmaiden said, taking out a thick stack of parchment. She held it up to Imosen with both hands and said, “This is a confidential letter written by the Master. The Master instructed that you must read these letters before you can proceed to the next step.”

Imosen took the parchment. With his current spiritual strength, he quickly read through all the letters. The content was about how to handle the Devil’s questioning and employ various methods of deception.

Imosen carefully went over the content, found no flaws, and nodded in admiration. “The Master’s wisdom is extraordinary, like that of a god. I have memorized it all.”

He did not yet understand that the transmission of thought was also a form of the Light of the Mind. Accepting the content Victor had written was equivalent to inheriting his attitude and methods for dealing with Devils. This not only weakened Imosen’s fear of the Rejuvenating Ancient God but was, in fact, Victor engaging in a battle of wits with the Ancient God through him.

The sword-wielding handmaiden took back the letter, lowered her head, and retreated a few steps. Imosen took a deep breath, walked to the large wooden table in the center of the hall, activated his communication talent, and the Light of the Mind invaded the soul of the black-blooded monster bird.

The process was surprisingly smooth. The structure of an animal’s Will Side is much simpler than that of a sapient species, making it completely unable to resist Imosen’s soul erosion. The soul of the black-blooded monster bird had long been modified by an unknown entity; its Will Side was even simpler and more fragile than that of an ordinary beast. Imosen’s spiritual will easily penetrated into the Undead Creature’s soul.

Next, he saw a mass of pale Soul Fire, not the more common red Soul Fire. Under normal circumstances, Imosen should have proceeded to observe and alter the black-blooded monster bird’s life form by corrupting its soul.

And that is indeed what Imosen did. But he soon discovered that as its Soul Fire was corrupted by his own, it turned a fiery red, and the monster bird’s Black blood began to corrode its body from the inside. In three hours at most, this Undead Creature would meet its true death.

The Wizard successfully seized control of the black-blooded monster bird, but could only control it for six hours.

With little time to waste, Imosen unhesitatingly activated the Wisdom Guidance Wizardry. Fiery red runes emerged from the void, forming an arcane pattern around the Wizard’s face. The dark red in the black-blooded monster bird’s eyes instantly brightened, like a burning flame.

The Shadow Council President’s puppetry art could control a corpse, but that was by using his own spiritual power to replace the Soul Fire, creating an undead under his control. Imosen’s Wisdom Guidance Wizardry was different from puppetry. Wisdom Guidance attached his mind and will to the target’s soul, sharing its senses and allowing for unimpeded command communication, which also included reading the target’s memories.

In reality, Wisdom Guidance was a manipulation of the Will Side, whereas the Will Side of an undead puppet had long since dissipated.

Imosen didn’t need to issue commands to the monster bird now. He sifted through his new pet’s memory fragments, entering its life memories from a third-person perspective.

Deep within a majestic mountain range, a snake-tailed vulture and its companions squatted in their nests on a cliff face, patiently waiting for the warm air currents that would rise with the sun. They used these updrafts to glide effortlessly through the sky, searching for delicious animal carcasses.

A shadow fell from the sky. A huge “Bat” appeared in the snake-tailed vulture’s vision. Its body was more than ten meters long, and two balls of burning pale flame blazed in its hollow eye sockets. Its outstretched, fleshy wings blotted out the sun, casting a large shadow on the cliff.

Imosen could feel the snake-tailed vulture’s heart filling with an emotion of sorrow.

A carrion-eating bird of prey could understand sorrow?

This was clearly an extraordinary influence brought by the great “Bat.” Imosen watched the “Bat” devour three immobilized snake-tailed vultures, then grab the remaining five, carrying them up into the clouds toward a shorter mountain peak. Through the snake-tailed vulture’s eyes, Imosen clearly saw a tall structure standing atop the peak. It was built of giant stones, with a square base and walls that sloped upward to form four triangular faces.

If Victor had seen this, he would have recognized it as a structurally stable pyramid, the easiest type of building for an intelligent life form to construct. But this was the first time Imosen had seen such an edifice, and he was amazed by the majesty of the triangular tower. The great “Bat” was just a small thing compared to the towering structure. It carried its prey and flew directly through a gap in the middle of the tower, arriving at a wide, open platform.

The Serpent-headed vulture entered a darkness so deep one couldn’t see one’s hand in front of one’s face. This part of its memory ended there. When it awoke again, it had become a black-blooded monster bird, its eyes burning with pale flames that could pierce the darkness. And so, in the middle of a gray, hazy great hall, Imosen saw a huge pit. A slimy, viscous tentacle extended from it, even larger than the great “Bat,” and covered in mysterious patterns.

Just as Imosen was about to examine the tentacle’s patterns, a consciousness stormed into his mind like a world-destroying tempest.

“Save me…”

On the table in the middle of the wooden house, a sliver of pale flame rekindled in the black-blooded monster bird’s dark red eyes. Imosen was completely unaware of this. Though the consciousness that had stormed his mind was as fierce as a tempest, it could not shake his spiritual will. He even had to open a tiny crack in his mind just to hear what the other party was saying.

Without a doubt, he had made contact with the consciousness of the Rejuvenating Ancient God!

Unfortunately, the Ancient God’s consciousness was full of chaos and madness, constantly sending distress signals to Imosen. His Highness Randell’s confidential letter had instructions for this situation. Following his Master’s directions, Imosen tried his best to listen clearly to the Ancient God’s words while maintaining the clarity of his own will.

In the real world, the pale flame and the dark red light in the monster bird’s eyes gradually reached a balance. Imosen began to question the Rejuvenating Ancient God: “How can I save you?”

The pleading consciousness finally changed. It said, intermittently, “Gather… Bloodline Law… reshape… perfect body.”

Imosen heard the Ancient God’s words clearly and asked again, “Why should I save you?”

The Ancient God’s consciousness was no longer frantic. It fell into a long silence, as if sorting out its thoughts. Imosen waited patiently, carefully maintaining his own clarity. After an unknown amount of time, he heard:

“Hmm, so you are a primordial being with Law-affinity. No wonder you could enter my domain… Can you tell me, whose chosen are you?”

Following the content of the confidential letter, Imosen said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I am a special envoy of the Elven Empire, here to find a sacred object left behind by the Moon Goddess. We call it ‘Freya’s Tear’… Do you know where it is?”

“A primordial being with Law-affinity from the Elven Empire? I see a Law power in your soul that is different from the Moon Goddess’s… First, you tell me who He is, and I will tell you the location of ‘Freya’s Tear.’”

Imosen sneered and said arrogantly, “Who do you think He is… an Ancient Behemoth, the King of the Spirit Realm?”

The Ancient God’s consciousness fell silent again. After a moment, It sighed deeply, “The King of the Spirit Realm. I have not heard that name for a very, very long time… But I am not the King of the Spirit Realm. His power was stripped away, His body perished, His will was shattered into four pieces. I am but a part of Him… You can call me the Lord of Sorrow.”

“Listen, primordial being who wields the power of Law, our essence is the same. The entity behind you is just a pitiful wretch driven out by Taelon Ruier. Its will shall sooner or later be devoured and obliterated by the Great Ape. It cannot give you what you want, but I can.”

Imosen retorted, “Oh? What is it that I want?”

“What else could it be? The same as me, of course: a perfect body, complete authority over Law, and an eternal will. This is the pursuit of all Law creatures, for we are all incarnations of the Creation Giant Ape.”

Now it was Imosen’s turn to be silent. His heart was pounding, but he still remembered Victor’s warning and said in a strained voice, “I can’t trust you… This conversation is over.”

“Wait!” The Lord of Sorrow paused, then said leisurely, “My power is still very weak. I cannot show you the mysteries of Law. It doesn’t matter that you don’t trust me. I will first help you get ‘Freya’s Tear.’ The Moon Goddess’s sacred object is at the bottom of the pit you saw. It has trapped the Black Blood Sovereign, and is also guarded by the Black Blood Sovereign…”

“The Black Blood Sovereign? That giant tentacle?”

“…You would not want to see Its true form. You can’t even get to the bottom of the pit from the front. But I know a secret path that can bypass the Black Blood Sovereign and Its Black Blood Beasts… When you get to the Asoerta temple, do as you did just now: corrupt the soul of a Black Blood Beast and call for the Lord of Sorrow. I will guide you to the secret path, help you avoid the Black Blood Sovereign, and get ‘Freya’s Tear’….”

“No! You either tell me the location of the secret path now, or I’ll find the Goddess’s sacred object myself.”

The Lord of Sorrow weighed its options for a moment, then transmitted an image to Imosen and said, “This tunnel system is a labyrinth. Only I can guide you to the correct path. If you don’t believe me, you can try it yourself. But I must remind you, beware of the Undying One and Its claws… I don’t want to miss the chance to gather my will, and of course, I don’t want you to die on the way.”

Imosen seized the opportunity to ask, “Was it the Black Blood Sovereign who was calling for help earlier?”

“…It calls for help from all beings. It is a mindless beast that can only restore its body and will by collecting natural bloodlines.”

“What is the relationship between you, the Black Blood Sovereign, and the Colossal Slime Behemoth in the forest? It also seems to possess the Law power of sorrow and despair…”

“Hehe, you will find out. If you can survive, you can have everything you want…”

The Lord of Sorrow’s consciousness rapidly receded. Imosen snapped awake, gasping for breath as he leaned on the table. With his spirit relaxed, sweat instantly poured from every pore of his body.

“Imosen, are you all right?”

A familiar voice came from behind. Imosen turned to see His Highness Randell and Father Dayn. He wiped the sweat from his face and said with a weak smile, “Master, I have met the will of the Devil.”

A gentle smile appeared on Victor’s handsome face. He nodded and said, “Relax for now. We’ll talk later.”

Chapter 788: Disappearance

“The Undying One? That devil told you to beware of The Undying One in the tunnels and His claws?”

In the command room, two crystal lanterns sat on a crude round table, the flames of their greensage grass and tallow candles illuminating the dim space. The key members of the Randell Expeditionary Force and the halfling brothers were all gathered around the table, listening as Imosen described his conversation with the resurging Ancient God. After the Wizard had finished, Dayn, dressed in a short priest’s robe, was the first to ask a question.

Imosen had used his most powerful Wizardry talent to engage in a consciousness exchange with the Lord of Sorrow, draining a great deal of his magic and vigor. Fortunately, he had rested for a whole night and had been meticulously cared for by two beautiful concubines. He now had a healthy complexion and was full of spirit. Most importantly, this incredible experience had broadened his horizons and boosted his confidence. His entire demeanor had become deep and serene, making him seem like a completely different person from the sensitive, insecure, and somewhat sleazy master of the hunt he once was.

Facing the focused gazes of the others, Imosen remained composed. He explained with clear logic, “My consciousness exchange with the Lord of Sorrow transcended the confines of language. The information He conveyed to me, as I understand it, describes an extraordinary being that cannot be killed by ordinary means and will not die naturally. I call it ‘The Undying One,’ but this doesn’t mean ‘The Undying One’ is the same as the undead creatures we’ve encountered so far.”

At this, the Wizard paused, frowning in thought for a moment before continuing, “What exactly is The Undying One? I can’t give a clear answer right now. However, the Lord of Sorrow seems to be very wary of Him. They should be extraordinary beings of the same level.”

Although Dayn had been on good terms with Imosen before, he had always secretly looked down on him. Now, however, he deeply recognized the man’s irreplaceable role and formidable extraordinary power. He spoke in a gentle, peer-to-peer tone, “As early as one thousand five hundred years ago, a Gold Paladin from the Church came to the Assyrian Empire, that is, to Asoerta. That Highness not only dealt with the evil god worshipped by the Assyrians but also learned some things about the Ant-man monsters. His biography contains a record of the Ant-man Empress, whom the Assyrians called The Undying One… That monster controls the entire Ant-man population. The Assyrian Empire once destroyed its physical body, but it was useless. Its will can descend upon any ant-man… That is why the Assyrian Empire referred to the Ant-man Empress as ‘The Undying One.’”

Most of those present were unfamiliar with ancestor Trigovar’s experiences. Hearing this secret history for the first time, Narsen’s eyes widened. He looked at Victor and asked in surprise, “My lord, how did the Ant-man monsters’ tunnels end up beneath the ruins of the Assyrian temple? Does the Ant-man Empress also want the elven sacred object guarded by the Black Blood Sovereign? If the Ant-men haven’t succeeded after all this time, does that mean the Black Blood Sovereign and the Lord of Sorrow are more powerful than the Ant-man army?”

Hearing Narsen’s words, everyone showed a worried expression. Victor, however, just smiled dismissively. He turned to the two halfling adventurers and asked, “In your opinion, what is the Lord of Sorrow’s life tier?”

Bobo and Tiantian glanced at each other, then raised their little heads and said uncertainly, “Tier 9 Demigod?”

These two halflings were from a high-class, distinguished family in Silverhawk City, but they were, after all, too young. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have so rashly run off in search of an elven sacred object. Besides, compared to the Elven Empire’s capital, Aylanta, Silverhawk City was just a remote backwater. It seemed the noble children of Silverhawk City also suffered from the flaw of being superficial, arrogant, and fond of showing off their partial knowledge.

In the human kingdoms, the Saint realm was a general term covering everything above Legendary—a vague concept with strong political undertones. Back then, when the Sword Saint Draven slew the Ogre King Vol’gan, achieving something the Pope had failed to do, the Church officially acclaimed Draven as a Sanctuary-rank expert. By elevating Draven, the Church also proposed that the Pope was a Spirit Priest, in reality using Draven’s prestige to indirectly salvage His Holiness the Pope’s reputation.

Sanctuary-rank experts were not common, but the papal line was passed down from generation to generation. This was why, despite the unparalleled power of a Spirit Knight, Sylvia was only ever called a Legendary Knight.

Originally, there was no such thing as the Saint realm. The so-called Saint realm was actually a benchmark artificially erected by the Church for political purposes.

By the same token, the Sun Tree held a position of supreme status in the Elven Empire. If the Sun Tree was a Tier 9 life form, the Elven Empress Regnant would never acknowledge any other Tier 9 life form.

To the Creator, every form of life has its own value and reason for being. The Creator would not classify life tiers, but within the strictly hierarchical Elven Empire, the political significance of classifying life tiers far outweighed its practical purpose; its most basic function was to rally the people.

Victor said confidently, “They are Tier 8 at most, perhaps only Tier 7.”

His Highness Randell’s words were more convincing than the halfling brothers’. Since His Highness was a Tier 9 Demigod, an extraordinary being calling itself the Lord of Sorrow that was only Tier 8 was nothing to worry about.

Tier 9 was a whole level higher than Tier 8, so naturally His Highness Randell of Tier 9 was more powerful. It was a simple truth that even Aka and Bel understood. As for the fact that Victor’s Tier 9 status had also come from the mouths of the halfling brothers, everyone automatically ignored it.

Victor, however, knew that the various Laws of the world formed an interconnected, three-dimensional whole. Using life tiers to determine who was stronger was overly simplistic and crude, much like how in the Great Marsh, horned frogs prey on poison flies, water snakes eat horned frogs, and yet poison flies can kill water snakes.

As the soul of the expeditionary force, Victor needed to help his followers build confidence; there was no need to correct certain trivial notions.

This time, their opponents possessed abilities beyond a mortal’s imagination. Victor had to be even more careful in laying the groundwork and strategizing from multiple angles, which included briefing his companions on key matters.

Victor pondered for a moment, then said solemnly, “I am certain that the Ant-man Empress, the Lord of Sorrow, the Lord of Despair, and the Black Blood Sovereign are all wills splintered from the same Ancient God. Together, they can represent the source of a certain extraordinary Law.”

Imosen had mentioned earlier that the Lord of Sorrow was a fractured consciousness of the King of the Spirit Realm, a name that Victor himself had provided. It was clear that Victor knew more detailed secrets. Although everyone was intensely curious about this secret history, Dayn believed these secrets came from the Attendant of Radiance, Father Miller.

As long as Victor didn’t bring it up himself, no one else should press for details, lest they interfere with Father Miller’s Great Divination. So Dayn once again spoke first, “The abilities of the resurging Ancient God are mysterious and unpredictable. We should be cautious in our words and deeds. Your Highness, if there are things you cannot say, then please do not tell us.”

Victor smiled and shook his head, saying, “If I were to really tell it from the beginning, I wouldn’t finish in three days and three nights. How much of it you would understand is also a question.”

Everyone nodded one after another. Only the intensely curious halfling brothers let their disappointment show on their faces.

Victor had no need to satisfy their curiosity. He said pensively, “The expeditionary force’s primary mission is reconnaissance and exploration, then to go with the flow. This includes instigating, or using, or leveraging the Lord of Sorrow, the Black Blood Sovereign, and the Lord of Despair to deal with the Undying One, the Ant-man Empress… The reverse would also work. Of course, for you, this is almost impossible to achieve. They possess a great deal of knowledge and secrets. Compared to them, you are merely blind and deaf.”

His Highness Randell’s manner of speaking was also a bit strange; he used “you” instead of “we” to explain the problem. However, the Raging Wind Sword Saint was indeed different from everyone else, and those present could fully accept his condescending tone.

“This communication between Imosen and the Lord of Sorrow yielded too little information. What is certain is that He wants something from us. The things He said require further verification from us, and He is using this to tempt us to go to the Asoerta Temple.” Victor mused for a moment, then said, “I’ll give you a few pointers… First, Imosen claimed to be a special envoy of the Elven Empire, here for the sacred object of the Moon Goddess.”

“We’re the special envoys! We are…” Bobo and Tiantian stood up on their chairs and jumped up and down as they spoke.

“Quiet.”

The Dragonkin handmaiden Laila spoke out to silence them. The halfling brothers immediately shrank back into their seats, leaving only the tops of their heads level with the table, their four bright, dark eyes darting about.

Halflings were dexterous, clever, and naturally adorable. Victor said with a smile, “Let me ask you, can the blessings of the Sun Tree and Moon Tree enhance bloodline power and stabilize bloodline levels?”

“Yes, yes,” Bobo said, peeking his head up.

“Do the Sun Tree and Moon Tree have a domain of influence?”

“That’s right, that’s right.” This time it was Tiantian’s turn to lift his head high.

“Can Freya’s Tear give birth to a new Moon Tree?”

Bobo and Tiantian nodded at the same time.

Victor grunted in acknowledgment and said to the others, “The Black Blood Bird, and the giant Black Blood Bat that Imosen ‘saw,’ are both extinct ancient species. Their appearance is likely related to the elven sacred object. When Imosen told the Lord of Sorrow that he was from the Elven Empire, the Lord of Sorrow immediately sold out the Black Blood Sovereign, stating that Freya’s Tear has trapped him. This is consistent with the information we got from Bobo and Tiantian. If Imosen were truly a special envoy of the Elves, he could confirm the truth of the Lord of Sorrow’s words and then take further action, heading to the Asoerta Temple ruins. This is precisely the outcome the Lord of Sorrow hopes for.”

“Unfortunately for him, we’re imposters, and the elven sacred object is not our primary objective.”

Victor wore a faint smile, and the others couldn’t help but grin as well. They felt a sense of honor in witnessing His Highness Randell engage in a battle of wits with a resurging Ancient God.

Seeing everyone’s relaxed expressions, Victor nodded inwardly and said seriously, “These extraordinary beings might devour one another, but there is no possibility of them completely merging, because this world will not accommodate a true Ancient God. This means they are not invincible, but they do have the basic conditions for cooperation. The second point I want to emphasize is that you must guard your minds, overcome negative emotions like fear, greed, and suspicion. Remember, a castle is most easily breached from within. Each person’s willpower is a strong castle, sacred and inviolable. As long as you don’t willingly open the gates, those extraordinary beings won’t find it so easy to influence you.”

“We will follow your teachings, My lord!” the crowd said in unison.

Victor continued, “The greatest threat to the expeditionary force comes from the Black Blood Beasts, not the resurging Ancient God. If I’m not mistaken, although the Black Blood Beasts are immobile in the heavy snow, the ones inside the Asoerta Temple might not be. And due to the domain characteristic of Freya’s Tear, the Black Blood Beasts inside the temple include powerful ancient species. If we choose to enter the Asoerta Temple during the snowy season, we can certainly avoid the Black Blood Beasts outside along the way, but if our exploration drags on until spring, all the Black Blood Beasts outside will reawaken. Then we’ll be trapped inside the temple, unable to get in or out, forced to obey the Lord of Sorrow’s arrangements.”

Imosen gasped, hissing through his teeth, “That Sorrow Devil is truly cunning!”

Victor’s dark gold eyes turned to the Wizard. He smiled and said, “Fortunately, we still have you. You can control the Black Blood Beasts.”

The dignified image Imosen had built up instantly collapsed. With a pained expression, he said, “My lord, the Black Blood Birds are far more difficult to handle than rats. The number of Black Blood Beasts I can actually control won’t be that high. And as for that giant ancient bat, I have no confidence at all that I can control it.”

“Dealing with the Black Blood Beasts… will also rely on Your Excellency Dayn’s holy power.”

Dayn wanted to maintain his composure, but after a moment’s thought, he too could only shake his head. “My holy power also has its limits. If the number of Black Blood Beasts and elemental undead creatures is too large, I’m afraid we will have to make other preparations.”

Putting aside the extraordinary powers of the undead creatures, their lack of vital points was a big enough headache on its own. Once their numbers reached a certain scale, the expeditionary force, which relied primarily on physical damage, would have no good way to deal with them.

“Master surely has a plan. None of you need to worry!” Narsen said, his voice loud and full of confidence.

Victor nodded. “We’ll have to test it to know if we have a way… There are still Black Blood Birds lurking underground in the nearby forest. Imosen, capture some to serve as experimental subjects for potions. I will try to formulate a potion to counter the Black Blood monsters. Dayn, you will assist me as well.”

Dayn asked curiously, “Your Highness, you’re also proficient in Potion-making?”

“Proficient? Hmph…” A hint of melancholy entered Victor’s heart. He said lightly, “There should be no potion master in the human kingdoms who can compare to me.”

By now, Master Tofwen of Aerie Fortress had likely already perished. Victor, having received his true teachings and possessing the extraordinary means of wind element perception, could be said to be the best potion master.

Due to the asymmetry of information, Victor was currently unable to distinguish the lies of the resurging Ancient God from the truth. Having Imosen communicate with the Lord of Sorrow was actually a bonus; his main goal was to have the Wizard control the Black Blood Birds.

Calculating from the collapse of the Assyrian Empire, the Lord of Sorrow or the Black Blood Sovereign had existed for at least one thousand five hundred years. Across such a long span of time, Victor could only imagine how many undead creatures they had created. Even if there was a limit to the number of undead they could create, they would have had ample time to enhance their power. Otherwise, how could they have resisted the invasion of the Ant-man Legion and held fast to the ruins of the Asoerta Temple?

The snowy weather presented an excellent opportunity to infiltrate the temple ruins, but there were bound to be powerful Black Blood guards inside. If the expeditionary force wanted to seize the initiative, analyzing the weaknesses of the Black Blood monsters was the foundation for any action.

Dissecting the corpses of Black Blood Birds was of little use. Victor needed to analyze the operational mechanics of the black blood, and Elemental Insight required the subject of observation to cooperate obediently. Imosen controlling the Black Blood Birds could solve this problem.

The expeditionary force moved quickly, setting up a potion laboratory and gathering the medicinal plants Victor needed from the surrounding area. Victor, Imosen, and Dayn worked tirelessly, forgetting to eat or sleep, testing various experimental potions on the Black Blood Birds.

As luck would have it, Beldina came to the lab to join in the fun. When no one was paying attention, she mimicked Victor and tossed a green-veined amber into the pot. The result was astonishing—the potion that could dissolve black blood was finalized.

Beldina, with her innate luck aura, had played a key role. Although she was mischievous, she received unanimous praise from Victor and everyone else. The four Dragonkin handmaidens were not so happy, because all the purple-veined amber they had collected had been taken by their Master.

The amber-based potion, when applied to weapons, could harm the Black Blood monsters, but Victor was still not satisfied. He instructed Dayn to drop Miller’s Holy Crystal into a large barrel full of the potion, mentioning that Miller used to use the Divine Art of Holy Light to bless potions back in the Randell Fief, which he provided to sick refugees with excellent therapeutic results.

Dayn skeptically placed the Holy Crystal into the barrel and activated the Divine Art of Holy Light within. The green potion was dyed a silvery white, and its lethality against the Black Blood monsters doubled. Victor was overjoyed, silently praising the old man Miller for being so reliable. He had Dayn turn the remaining six large barrels of green potion into silverlight potion, confident that this potion, imbued with holy power, would also be effective against the elemental undead.

After the work of converting the potion was finished, the holy power in the Holy Crystal was half-depleted. Pained by the loss, Dayn strongly requested that the expeditionary force wait for the Holy Crystal to recover its power before setting off for the Asoerta Temple ruins.

It was now the third month of the Season of Water. A steady freezing rain fell, making the ground muddy and slick, unsuitable for marching. Everyone took the opportunity to stay in camp and diligently cultivate the Poltanos Secret Art. The experience of the Ferocious warrior Red Wolf had already proven that the mythical three-headed lizard visualization had the special effect of protecting the soul. The journey to the Assyrian temple was fraught with unpredictable dangers; it was always good for everyone to have an extra trump card.

In the fourth month of the Season of Water, snowflakes began to fall from the sky. The time had finally come for the Randell Expeditionary Force to depart.

However, Victor was gone.

Charlotte, fully armed, rushed into the laboratory, shouting in a half-panicked, half-exasperated voice, “The column is supposed to be moving out, but I can’t find His Highness! Do you know where he went?”

Imosen and Dayn, who were packing up the silverlight potion, were startled. They exchanged a glance, then shook their heads.

Charlotte gripped the hilt of her sword, composed herself, and stared at Imosen with a grim look. “Two days ago, His Highness told me he was going out for a bit. He said he was going to use a few of your Black Blood Birds to scare off the tails following us!”

Imosen’s face changed, and he hurriedly explained, “The Master did indeed ask me to send a dozen or so Black Blood Birds to fly more than eighty kilometers south. He also took the control whistle, but he didn’t tell me what he was planning to do… Master isn’t back? I’ll send all my Aberrant Beasts to find him right now!”

“That won’t be necessary.”

The Dragonkin handmaiden Laila pushed the door open from the outside. A pair of flame-like vertical pupils swept over Charlotte, Dayn, and Imosen as she said coldly, “My King will not be coming back. He has ordered the expeditionary force to be split in two. Charlotte, Dayn, Imosen, Caligula, Beldina, Macy, the halfling brothers, and Tao De will lead one half, with Charlotte as Commander. Dili and I will be responsible for protecting you. Commander Narsen, Klaus, Brandon, Rogers, and Red Wolf will lead the rest, with Fugerui and Mewen responsible for protecting them. Both teams are to depart immediately, act independently, and explore the Asoerta Temple ruins.”

Laila’s gaze was terrifying and incredibly intimidating. Charlotte bit her lip hard, secretly circulating her Aura, preparing to demand an explanation. Father Dayn walked over, shook his head, and said softly, “My Lady, don’t ask… His Highness is no mortal. He is the Raging Wind Sword Saint, the most powerful extraordinary being in the human kingdoms. He and the Lord of Sorrow are the same…”

Laila gave a beautiful smile, and her terrifying vertical pupils reverted to beautiful round ones. She nodded. “So you do have some sense… My King also said to leave half a barrel of silverlight potion and one Black Blood Bird in the laboratory.”

Chapter 789: Uninvited Guest

Two days ago…

The freezing rain that had fallen for four consecutive days finally ceased. The dark clouds in the sky seemed to have thinned somewhat, allowing a sliver of light to illuminate the tranquil, secluded forest. Iruna Greenleaf sat cross-legged under the rain shelter she had built with her companions, her wrists turning gently as two exquisitely crafted curved swords danced between her fingers and palms.

These two curved swords were a gift from her sister, forged by a famous Elven swordsmith in Silverhawk City. They were sturdy, flexible, and incomparably sharp, possessing both armor-piercing and sharpness properties. Although their style and size were identical to the curved swords she was accustomed to, they were a full eighteen pounds heavier, placing them in the heavy sword category.

A War Dancer using heavy swords.

Having advanced to a War Dancer, Iruna Greenleaf now had green magic tattoos that extended from her limbs to her cheeks, giving her a valiant and mysterious air. Her strength and Perception had increased dramatically, but a sudden surge in strength wasn’t necessarily a good thing. For the past few months, Iruna had been familiarizing herself with her new power and a new breathing method. With Iluth Moonsong’s guidance, she was progressing rapidly and believed she was no less capable than the other War Dancers in the team; she just needed some real combat to prove herself.

The fire-affinity Dwarves and wind-affinity Halflings detested the rainy season. The loud-mouthed chatterbox Dwarves and the Halfling adventurer had been listless for days. However, the water-affinity Wild Elves and Tree Elves could sense the power of the most active water elements during the rainy and snowy season. Several male War Dancers were training their sword skills bare-chested, facing the bone-chilling vapor. The green tattoos on their bodies grew deeper and more conspicuous with the rhythm of their breathing.

The green tattoos on a War Dancer could breathe. They absorbed the free-floating void water elements to gradually alter the War Dancer’s physique, storing the power within their body. In battle, this could enhance their strength, Perception, resistance, and physical toughness; during rest, it could restore their stamina and heal their injuries.

Iruna imperceptibly pouted. She could only find a private place to remove her armor and train with the other female Elven War Dancers at night, whereas the male Elves had no such constraints.

She glanced down at her own flourishing chest and thought to herself: Should I follow Grace White-mist’s example and undergo the breast-cutting ritual? But that would make it hard to find a partner…

“Careful, a monster’s coming from the west.”

A light, pleasant, androgynous voice drifted down from the treetops. Iruna’s face flushed hot, and her heart pounded. She grabbed her two heavy swords and shot out from under the shelter, startling everyone else with her intense reaction. The fourth-rank Dwarf Dragon Hunter, Yudrit, lowered his voice and said to the Halfling adventurer, “Lolo, I’d bet my beard Miss Greenleaf was just thinking about Olavi Moonsong. That’s why she jumped up like a rabbit when she heard his voice.”

Even though the Dwarf had lowered his voice, his booming tone allowed everyone to hear his teasing. Iruna wished she could use the sharp blades in her hands to cut off his beard and teach the loose-tongued Dwarf a profound lesson.

“Oh, the Season of Water, the Season of Life, the Season of Courtship,” the Halfling adventurer Lolo quipped, quickly pulling on his color-changing cloak and summoning his two large black wolf companions to his side.

“The monsters are in the sky. All Elven warriors, up the trees. Use your greatbows,” Olavi Moonsong commanded from his perch in the treetops.

Glancing up at the tall, handsome Tree Elf Wind Walk Archer, Iruna returned to the shelter with a blush, picked up her greatbow and quiver, and before climbing a tree, made sure to cast a fierce taunt at the others: “You shorties can stay down there and eat dirt.”

Every Elven warrior was a natural archer, and Iruna Greenleaf was equally skilled with a bow. Gripping her gracefully shaped Elven greatbow, she nimbly leaped into a large tree—the one closest to the object of her affection.

The Elven warriors in the team swarmed up the trees, each getting into position. A moment later, Iruna saw a dozen small black dots flying towards them, skimming the top of the forest canopy. The black dots weren’t flying too fast. When Iruna could make out their appearance, her eyes widened and she exclaimed, “Snake-tailed Vultures? How can there be such enormous Snake-tailed Vultures?!”

They were a dozen large raptors dragging snake-like tails. Their wingspans were seven or eight meters, and each flap of their wings generated a current of air that bent the treetops backward, a show of power that made the Elven warriors feel a wave of apprehension.

“Everyone quiet! Switch to the stealth breathing method and conceal yourselves. These monsters might not be coming for us.”

The green-haired, blue-eyed Angris Windsong issued the order, then shot a dissatisfied glance at Iruna Greenleaf, reprimanding her for her rash outcry.

Iruna could never bring herself to like her sister’s close friend and capable assistant, but she had to admit that in this team, Angris Windsong’s strength was second only to General Moonsong. Moreover, she came from a prominent family in Silverhawk City, was a brilliant junior whom Elder Windsong admired, and not only possessed enviable beauty but was also a fourth-rank Wind Walk Archer and a fourth-rank Wind Dancer.

Most importantly, her command abilities were unanimously recognized by everyone.

Iruna quickly put away her greatbow, slid down to hide behind the tree trunk, suppressed her presence, and made her breathing faint and delicate. The others were hidden even better, but unfortunately, the huge snake-tailed vultures were flying straight for them.

Angris saw the unnatural pale flames in the monsters’ eyes and felt their aggressive aura. She couldn’t help but frown, her long, straight eyebrows knitting together as she barked a decisive command, “Archers, engage! Target the foremost one. Three rapid volleys!”

Iruna leaped from behind the trunk, nocking an arrow in mid-air. She aimed at the lead monster and fired a long arrow, then landed on a treetop and let loose two more. Amid a humming sound, dozens of black streaks whistled toward the monster. However, the arrows that could pierce a great wild boar were blown askew by the wind from its flapping wings. The few arrows that did land on its body lacked the power to pierce its hide. Only six arrows, wreathed in a faint breeze, shot through its neck, chest, and wings, drawing spurts of Black blood.

The wounded monster let out a piercing shriek. Seemingly unfazed, it suddenly accelerated and dove toward the Wind Walk Archer who had harmed it—Olavi Moonsong.

Iruna paled in shock. Pushing her breathing method to its limit, she leaped across four great trees to get a flanking angle. She raised her bow and fired a stream of arrows horizontally, avoiding the monster’s wind pressure and successfully piercing its body, but it still had no killing effect. The massive snake-tailed vulture, bristling with arrows, lunged with its claws at the treetop where Olavi stood.

“Olavi, get out of the way!”

An indigo stream of light shot into the monster. The sharp void wind element instantly sliced it to pieces, which then erupted into a gale that sent Black blood, shredded flesh, and feathers spraying in all directions. Olavi Moonsong had already moved, avoiding the misfortune of being drenched in Black blood.

“Sister Angris, thank you for saving me.”

The young Tree Elf was tactless, still in the mood to flatter her at a time like this. Angris truly felt like shooting an arrow at him. These giant birds with pale flames flickering in their eye sockets were clearly undead, immune to physical wounds. Angris was the only elf in the party who could manifest the void wind element, but she needed three seconds to charge a single elemental shot, and there were fifteen attacking monsters.

“They’re undead! All of you, get down from the trees! Take the shorties and retreat into the dense forest. I’ll deal with them!”

Just as Angris finished speaking, the dozen or so undead monsters folded their wings and dived, snapping tree branches with brute force as they plunged toward the great-horned goats under the rain shelter.

“Abandon the goats! Retreat now!” Angris ordered again. She dropped straight down from the treetop, tossed away her Elven greatbow, and drew her two curved swords.

“The short-legged Dwarves won’t abandon the great-horned goats!”

“I’m gonna smash their bones, pound them to a pulp, and see if they can still fly!”

A Dwarven guard bellowed, brandishing his bladed shield and warhammer.

“Damn shorties! I’ll have General Iluth confiscate your tobacco!” Angris gritted her teeth. The moment she landed, her body wreathed in a faint breeze as she charged toward the rain shelter.

A figure shot out diagonally from the forest. She held a three-meter-long, long-hafted curved blade and met the diving undead monster head-on. The gleaming blade in her hands transformed into a continuous river of silver light, like a flowing stream. It swept gently past the undead monster’s enormous body, neatly slicing it in two. She stepped on one half of the monster before it even hit the ground and leaped onto a second undead, then a third, and a fourth, rising steadily into the air on their backs. The Elves, Dwarves, and Halflings only saw a watery light dancing and flowing upward against the wind. Wherever it passed, monsters were decapitated, their wings were severed, or their bodies burst open. Black blood rained down, creating a rhythm of chilling, tragic beauty.

As the watery blade of light exploded the last undead monster’s head, Iluth Moonsong landed gracefully. Shouldering her spear-blade, she turned to the loudly cheering Dwarves and said, “Anyone who defied orders is banned from tobacco for three days.”

The Silverhawk City General’s words immediately drew a chorus of anguished howls from the Dwarves. Angris ignored the resentful glares of the Dwarven guards and walked up to Iluth. Sheathing her curved swords, she smiled. “Killing fourteen undead monsters in one move. How can a Wild Elf like you be so strong?”

Iluth’s gaze swept over the remains of the monsters scattered around. Her thick eyebrows furrowed for a moment, then she shook her head and smiled. “Except for the one whose head I burst, the others aren’t dead… I killed one, you took down one. We’re even.”

Angris sighed and said softly, “Sister, you don’t have to console me… First the ooze monsters, now these undead snake-tailed vultures flowing with demon’s Black blood. The undead are appearing one after another. Next, there might be demons from the Abyss. The situation is getting more and more dangerous. What should we do? If we keep going, our companions will likely suffer heavy casualties.”

Iluth nodded. “Yes, we should have Greybeard perform a Divination…”

“Agro’s Divinations are wrong eight times out of ten. His interpretations are terrible,” Angris scoffed dismissively, then said seriously, “What we need isn’t Divination, but powerful help. You know we don’t have any helpers…”

Just as Iluth was about to say something, a stranger’s light laugh came from the forest behind them. “This Elven lady is right. You need helpers.”

“Who’s there?!”

Without a second thought, Angris drew one of her curved swords, now wreathed in a faint breeze, and flung it toward the sound. Iluth moved even faster. The long spear-blade on her shoulder shot out to the side, deflecting Angris’s sword and sending it spinning back to her. She turned around, slowly, very slowly. Then she saw a slender, well-proportioned figure emerge from behind a large tree nearby.

The Tree Elf Angris Windsong also got a clear look at the uninvited guest. Her small, pink, glistening lips parted in amazement, a look of mesmerized stupor spreading across her face. The curved sword in her left hand fell with a plop onto the damp, decaying leaves. She raised a slender hand to cover her mouth and whispered in disbelief, “A… a Greater Elf?”

Chapter 790: Nightingale the Wanderer

Hearing the commotion, the elves and dwarves closed in with their weapons, but they all froze the moment they got a clear look at the uninvited guest. The short-tempered Dwarf guards fared a little better, merely staring wide-eyed at one another, the shields and bone-crushing iron staves in their hands unconsciously lowering toward the ground. The elven warriors, however, showed a mixture of admiration, infatuation, shock, and timidity, like children who had run away from home only to be caught by their parents. The beautiful and proud Tree Elves were particularly affected, a good number of them letting their weapons slip from their grasp. As for the Wild Elves, they hastily hid their weapons behind their backs and bent their waists as if to bow.

Iluth Moonsong coughed lightly. It was as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over the elven warriors; an icy chill shot through their minds, and they all came to their senses. They straightened their backs and unbent their knees, all looking at the General from Silverhawk City with sympathetic eyes.

The stranger was well-proportioned and slender, his facial features exquisitely and impeccably perfect. His pure eyes were reminiscent of the deep, dark night sky, as if they held the miraculous power to contain the night itself. Although he wore a hooded cloak that hid his long, pointed ears, he had the same long, straight, black eyebrows as a High Elf. This was enough to show that he was a noble Moon Elf, and a rare male one at that.

Male Moon Elves were also called Greater Elves, renowned for their beauty, longevity, and gentle nature.

This Greater Elf’s bearing, appearance, and grace were like the silver moon in the night sky—bright and flawless, captivating the elven warriors. The two Greater Elves in Silverhawk City couldn’t begin to compare with him. Iluth even had the feeling that she would likely never encounter a more beautiful sapient being.

If even the General of Silverhawk City was momentarily lost in a daze upon seeing the strange Greater Elf, the state of the other elves went without saying.

Greater Elves held no true power, but their status in the Elven Empire was high, and their partners were often high-ranking members of elven city-states. This scouting party from Silverhawk City had violated the City-state Council’s prohibition by secretly trailing another race deep into the Endless Forest. Now that they had encountered a strange Greater Elf, their first reaction was that they had been caught. Each of them was filled with anxiety, but they soon realized that their direct superior was General Moonsong. Any trouble would naturally be borne by the General alone.

Neither the elves nor the dwarves felt any wariness toward the strange Greater Elf, but Iluth’s heart was tense. The newcomer had been able to bypass her danger sense and lurk near the scouting party, which showed that he was a terrifyingly powerful individual.

However, Iluth Moonsong did not sense any hostility from him. She had acted in time to strike Angris Windsong’s curved sword from her hand, avoiding provoking this powerful stranger.

Since they had encountered one of their own kind, it was necessary for both sides to communicate.

Iluth planted her long-handled spear-blade into the ground and, placing her left hand on her forehead, performed the elven rite of greeting a superior. Her voice was hoarse as she said, “Noble Greater Elf, I am Iluth Moonsong, a General from Silverhawk City, and these are my subordinates… Are you lost? We can escort you back to your city-state, or you can come to our Silverhawk City to rest first.”

Victor, still in his Soul of Water Mist state, sized up Iluth Moonsong with great interest. The Wild Elf War Dancer’s recent performance had left a deep impression on him. Caligula had once slain seven Gnolls with a single sword strike in the Giantstone Mountains, while Iluth Moonsong had dismembered fourteen black-blooded snake-tailed vultures with a single thrust of her spear.

The ancient snake-tailed vultures were far more formidable than Gnolls.

Although Caligula’s feat of testing his skills on the Gnolls did not prove that Iluth Moonsong was necessarily stronger than him, her grace in vanquishing her foes mid-air reminded Victor of the sight of Sylvia slaying the two-headed Dragon-Lizard. Only one who had achieved absolute mastery over power, speed, time, and space could execute such a fluid and effortless combat technique.

This was the highest realm of the fire of the mind—omnipresence.

And that was not all. When Iluth had grunted to awaken her elven kin from Victor’s charm, it was not only due to her long-standing authority but also a manifestation of the Touch of the Mind, which had a similar effect to a barbarian’s war song or a Bear-monster Elder’s War Roar.

What amazed Victor most was Iluth’s sharp wit. Aiding a High Elf in distress was the duty of the Empire’s subjects and, even more so, the Nature of a lower-ranked elf. Likewise, a High Elf would not actively harm a kinsman blessed by the Moon Tree. Unfortunately for them, as the Mind’s Dominator, Victor was not bound by the Nature of his elven bloodline. Iluth was the only clear-headed elf. She had sensed that the stranger who resembled a Greater Elf was not a High Elf, yet she had still taken the initiative to greet Victor, pretending to know nothing in a desperate attempt to avoid conflict with him.

Victor smiled, revealing a set of perfectly white, even teeth. He asked leisurely, “How did you know I’m not an elf?”

The elven and dwarven warriors were mystified and astonished, but Iluth sighed inwardly. Suppressing the urge to reach for her weapon, she answered truthfully, “Your equipment is too simple, especially your hood, which covers your ears… Of course, my Halfling partner has been hiding this whole time and still hasn’t dared to show himself. His reaction tells me you are not one of the Elven Empire’s Greater Elves.”

Only then did her second-in-command, Angris Windsong, notice how crude the strange elf’s equipment was. He wore old leather pants and boots, a bearskin armor, and had two unsheathed bone knives tucked into a deerskin belt. He carried a beast-sinew longbow and two quivers of arrows on his back, and in his hand, he held a sharpened oak stick that served as a one-handed short spear.

She couldn’t see a single piece of metal on him. Not even a commoner Wild Elf from the countryside would be so poorly equipped, let alone a noble Greater Elf.

The strangest thing was that his wolf-pelt hood had no holes for his ears. It would be very uncomfortable for an elf to have their long ears pressed down under a hat. Even if his gear had been stolen by Goblins, surely he would have cut two holes in the hood to let his ears out.

A dozen pairs of eyes stared unblinkingly at Victor’s hood. Victor generously untied the hood, revealing short black hair and slightly pointed ears. Then he heard a collective sound of hearts breaking…

Sighs, wails, and murmurs full of regret filled the air. A few elves even shed tears, Angris Windsong among them.

An elf’s long, pointed ears were their most prominent physical feature and their only regenerative organ, serving extremely important biological and social functions.

An elf’s extraordinary hearing and superior sense of balance all stemmed from their long ears. They could also use their ears to sense faint disturbances in the air currents, and high-level combat professional elves could even judge the intensity of water and wind elements in the air by their ears alone. An elf’s ears also provided a rich a form of body language, capable of expressing joy, anger, vigilance, admiration, disgust, and sadness. Right now, for instance, the elves’ ears were all drooping, indicating their disappointment and regret.

Victor had never been vain about his looks, nor did he think there was anything wrong with his ears, but these foolish elves and dwarves still managed to stir a flicker of anger in him. He complained internally: Elven ears are just like a dog’s tail…

Only Iluth Moonsong showed no change in expression, but her hand reached out to grip the shaft of her spear-blade. Her mismatched eyes glinted with vigilance and sharpness as she slowly asked, “Who are you? And what do you want with us?”

Victor glanced at her with appreciation and answered with a question of his own, “General Moonsong, when you killed those monsters just now, you only had to lightly touch them with your spear-blade and their wounds would split open on their own. What kind of combat technique is that?”

Iluth Moonsong pondered for a moment before replying, “It is a Fissure Cut that I created myself. It requires a special War Dancer breathing method to execute. If you are interested, we can discuss it.”

“Is that so?” Victor swept his arm backhanded, and the pointed oak stick scraped against a large tree behind him. With a sharp crack, bark and wood chips flew as a terrifying gash split open on the tough tree trunk where the stick had struck.

A heavy, deathly silence fell over the clearing.

“That is not the Fissure Cut,” Iluth said, breaking the silence. She relaxed her grip on her weapon and added, “But the effect is the same.”

Victor smiled elegantly. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Victor Nightingale, and I’m a wanderer.”

In the language of the human kingdoms, a “wanderer” from the Elven Empire was equivalent to a thief, an exile, a bandit, or a masterless person, though none of these were entirely accurate.

The subjects of the Elven Empire relied on the Sun Trees, Moon Trees, and Moonlight Wells to maintain or advance their bloodline tiers. Some subjects of the Empire became wanderers for various reasons after leaving the blessed domain of a Moon Tree. Their descendants would experience a decline in their bloodline, but they were also freed from the Empire’s bloodline-based caste system.

The Elven Empire’s attitude toward wanderers was ambiguous. They were not considered kin, yet they could be guided back into the Empire to receive a Moon Tree’s blessing, restoring their bloodline power and status as subjects.

Victor had learned about wanderers from the Halfling brothers and realized he could perfectly disguise himself as one. This would explain why his ears were not long enough and why he lacked the mystical bloodline connection to other elves. In fact, the Moon Elf nobles in the human kingdoms were indeed wanderers from the Elven Empire. Although he himself felt no bloodline bond with the Tree Elves and Wild Elves before him, they could all sense a natural affinity from him originating from his bloodline. This could only mean that the Law of Chaos in his knight’s bloodline was closer to the origin of the world than the blessing of the Moon Tree.

“My lord Nightingale, your eyes and hair, and your beauty like the moonlight…” Angris Windsong, with tears still on her face, cried out in a transport of joy and surprise, “Could it be that you are a naturally awakened wanderer!”

In the Elven Empire, an extremely small number of subjects could naturally awaken their bloodline powers without a blessing ceremony. All of them were extraordinarily powerful individuals. Iluth Moonsong, with her heterochromatic eyes, was a living example of a naturally awakened elf. She could advance entirely on her own strength, gaining the talent, beauty, and longevity of a Tree Elf. However, she was uncertain of the path beyond Tree Elf, so she hoped to use the Sun Tree’s blessing to directly become one of the most noble Moon Elves.

The wanderer Nightingale had almost ascended to become a Moon Elf. All he was missing were the ears…

Iluth’s subordinates snapped out of their daze one by one and, chattering excitedly, enthusiastically invited Victor to be a guest in Silverhawk City. They even said the First Princess would hold a blessing ceremony for him so he could grow a pair of long and beautiful ears.

Rescuing a high-ranking elf in distress was a major event in an elven city-state, and the rescuer would receive extremely generous rewards for their deeds. Compared to the ethereal legend of an elven sacred object, the members of the scouting party were far more willing to bring the wanderer Nightingale back to Silverhawk City.

“All of you, be quiet!” For the first time, General Moonsong regretted choosing these young subordinates as her companions. Of course, a more elite and seasoned subordinate wouldn’t have followed her on this risky venture. She silenced her clamoring subordinates and turned to the wanderer. “My lord Nightingale, if you are willing to join Silverhawk City, we will take you to see our First Princess right now.”

Victor chuckled and said, in the manner of a true wanderer, “I don’t know anything about a First Princess or the blessing of a Moon Tree… And you don’t have to put on a false pretense of inviting me to join your Silverhawk City. Let’s be direct. I need helpers, not a group of competitors.”

“Nightingale, what exactly do you mean?” Iluth gripped her long-handled spear-blade and held it defensively across her chest. Her eyes burned as she stared at Victor, her aura sharp and piercing. “You were the one who led those black-blooded monsters here.”

Receiving their general’s combat signal, the scouts picked up their dropped weapons and spread out, readying themselves. However, the elven warriors were still hesitant and bewildered.

Facing a dozen well-equipped combat professionals, Victor just smiled nonchalantly. “My purpose is the same as those humans and the same as yours: to obtain Freya’s Tear… The black-blooded monsters were just a test to see if you have the right to serve as my helpers.”

“You have passed this test… however,” Victor’s tone shifted. He raised his left hand, and several streams of greenish-black energy suddenly formed, swirling around his long, slender, pale hand before rapidly turning a dazzling indigo.

The sharp and ferocious void wind element was toyed with in Nightingale’s palm as if it were a tame and docile pet. Angris couldn’t help but murmur, “…A Son of the Moon God, the Wind Whisper talent…”

With a casual clench of his fist, Victor dissipated the indigo void wind element. No violent gust of air was produced; it was as if the whole display had been an illusion.

A bitter taste filled Iluth Moonsong’s mouth. She abandoned any thought of resistance and asked calmly, “My lord Nightingale, how do you know our goal is the Goddess’s Tear? And how did you know those other races are searching for a sacred object of the Elven Empire?”

Victor raised his long, straight eyebrows, his expression cold and arrogant. “That’s not important. What’s important is that I need Freya’s Tear… If you try to take what I want, you will be my enemies, and I will kill you without mercy. If you are willing to help me obtain Freya’s Tear, I will reward you. However, you must be prepared to make sacrifices, because my opponents are very powerful… Since we share the same bloodline, I will give you two choices. Either turn back and leave this place now, or come find me at the abandoned camp of those humans. I will stay there for two days. If you still dare to follow me after that, don’t blame me for taking action against you.”

A strange light shone in Iluth’s eyes. She asked, full of anticipation, “My lord Nightingale, what kind of reward can you offer us?”

Victor didn’t answer her question. He leaped backward, his figure blurring like a phantom as he disappeared into the darkness of the forest. The wind carried his voice back to them:

“Think it over, then come find me.”

Gazing in the direction Nightingale had vanished, Angris said to Iluth, “Nightingale must be a Tier 7 Son of the Moon God, perhaps even stronger than Elder Windsong… Sister, what should we do?”

Iluth Moonsong sank into thought for a long while before sighing. “Have Eglok Graybeard prepare for a Divination.”

Angris nodded. Seeking enlightenment from the Dwarf Prophet was standard practice for the Empire’s combat professionals. However, Eglok Graybeard’s interpretations of his Divinations were still a bit lacking, so relying on his advice was clearly not a wise move.

The rational choice would be to abandon this expedition and return to Silverhawk City immediately. But Angris, like Iluth, felt an inexplicable sense of anticipation regarding the mysterious Nightingale. She finally said, “Sister, don’t you think Lord Nightingale is truly beautiful? Even with flawed ears, he’s still so beautiful…”

“That is a danger and a hope,” Iluth Moonsong replied.

Chapter 791: The Divination Ritual

Eglok Graybeard was a strong Dwarf, with muscles knotted on his arms, a stout, barrel-like build, a conspicuously large nose, a gray beard that hung down to his chest, and the same fiery temper and booming voice as any other Dwarf. At least in the eyes of elves and halflings, all Dwarves looked the same. Of course, the Dwarves were equally incapable of telling elves apart, let alone distinguishing one halfling from another.

Unless, of course, they knew each other very well.

“Haha, by the moonlight, the amazing Prophet Eglok Graybeard will find a safe path for everyone today from these fragrant fumes.” The Dwarven Prophet watched as his kinsmen brought out the ritual implements and placed them under the rain shelter, and he couldn’t help but laugh with pride, seeming extremely excited.

The green-haired, blue-eyed, and handsome Wind Walk Archer, Olavi Moonsong, patted the Dwarven Prophet’s messy head and said seriously, “Greybeard, you’re actually better at smithing… Your last divination led us into a stable. I was lucky to get away fast enough to avoid being kicked into a dung heap by a Centaur. It took a lot of effort for me to pull you out of the horse manure.”

“Uh, Olavi, let me tell you a secret.”

“What secret?”

“Your beautiful mother has a bastard son, and his name is Olavi!”

While Eglok and his good friend bickered playfully, the Dwarven warriors on the other side had already finished preparing for the ritual. The Dwarven Dragon Hunter, Yudrit, grabbed Eglok’s arm and bellowed, “Greybeard, it’s your turn to perform. Do a good divination… I don’t want to accomplish nothing and run back to Silverhawk City with my tail between my legs.”

“Watch me!”

Eglok excitedly rubbed his large-knuckled hands together, pushed his Dwarven compatriot aside, and walked under the rain shelter. He used a fire striker to light three wickless metal oil lamps—one black, one silver, and one red. An unknown oil burned within them, producing pale blue flames. The Dwarf arranged the three lamps in a triangle, sat himself in the middle, and picked up the long pipe beside him. He filled it with amber essential oil, alluring incense leaves, the dried powder of a human-faced spider, the feathers of an Ash Falcon, and other materials. He then held the pipe to the flame of the red lamp in front of him, put the mouthpiece to his lips, and inhaled deeply until his chest and abdomen swelled. Smoke billowed from his nose, ears, and the corners of his mouth. Soon, the Prophet’s stocky, robust body was shrouded in thick smoke.

Using the Dwarven Prophet breathing method, Eglok worked to draw the smoke deep into his body before expelling it. Gradually, his mouth, nose, ears, and even his pores began to inhale and exhale the smoke in a unique rhythm. Only his dark red eyes grew brighter amidst the swirling haze. He seemed to fuse with the smoke, transforming into a strange, mysterious creature.

The Silverhawk scouting party remained silent, on high alert. The biting cold wind blew through the long hair of the elven warriors and the beards of the Dwarven guards, yet it could not disperse the smoke enveloping the Dwarven Prophet.

Eglok Graybeard seemed to have detached himself from reality, using the smoke that wreathed his body to enter another, unknown world.

More than twenty kilometers away, perched in an ancient tree, Victor used his Nemesis talent to monitor the Dwarven Prophet’s every move. In his Life Concealment state, he was devoid of emotion, simply observing in silence.

After an unknown amount of time, the smoke around Eglok was carried away by the forest wind. His bright, dark red eyes blinked once and instantly dimmed. He stood up shakily and shouted, “I saw it!”

Iluth, who had been waiting nearby, rushed over to support the weakened Dwarf, pressing him urgently, “Quick, tell us what you saw. Don’t leave anything out!”

“A gray moon… tombs… a nightingale snatching away a plank, or was it a coffin lid?” His head spinning, Eglok couldn’t recall clearly, so he skipped the detail and continued, “A tree seed… a tunnel full of black ooze and ants… an underground river… a sunlit lake.”

“Greybeard, don’t fall asleep! Interpret the divination before your spiritual sense fades completely.” Olavi Moonsong bent over, grabbing the Dwarf’s beard with one hand and slapping his face with the other. Slap, slap.

“He needs Dragonflame Wine now!” A Dwarven guard forcefully pushed the Tree Elf aside, pulled a beautifully crafted adamantine flask from his coat, and held it under Eglok’s nose.

The groggy Eglok finally opened his eyes, snatched the flask with its tantalizing aroma, and began to gulp it down. The Dwarven guard turned his head and roared at Olavi Moonsong, “Rabbit, you owe me for this! Remember to pay me back, with interest!”

Only then did the third-tier Wind Walk Archer realize that his companions had all taken a few steps back, leaving him as the Dwarven guard’s punching bag. He retorted defiantly, “Why don’t you ask Greybeard to pay you back for your Dragonflame Wine?”

“Nonsense! He already owes me twenty-three bottles of Dragonflame Wine!”

“That’s not so much. He could pay it off with two months of smithing.”

“He still owes interest of two barrels of wine.”

“…”

Eglok finished the entire flask of fine wine and, having recovered some of his spirit, smacked his lips and said, “Still not quite enough… I’ll interpret the divination. The gray moon represents the danger of death; a towering tomb represents mass death; the nightingale snatching the coffin lid represents salvation; the tree seed represents the fulfillment of a wish; the tunnel full of black ooze and ants represents escape; the underground river represents a new lease on life; the sunlit lake represents success.”

The moment he finished speaking, the grey-bearded Dwarf fell straight to the ground, a deafening snore erupting from his throat.

The Dragon Hunter, Yudrit, called over a few Dwarven guards to carry the unconscious Eglok to a goatskin sleeping bag, then turned to Iluth and said, “My lord Moonsong, Eglok’s divination is definitely accurate this time. He even saw the ‘nightingale’… Should we go find that Wanderer?”

Before Iluth could respond, Angris Windsong cut in, “Don’t forget he first divined the ‘gray moon’ and ‘tombs’. Even if I don’t understand divination interpretation, I know ‘gray moon’ and ‘tombs’ signify the danger of total annihilation.”

“Without Mr. nightingale, we would surely have no chance of survival, but Mr. nightingale brings hope, right?” Yudrit said in a gruff voice. “You know that my brothers and I can’t go back empty-handed. Poor Martha is gravely ill, and even the blessing of the Moon Tree can’t save her. Her Highness the First Princess said that only the blessing of the Sun Tree can save Martha’s life… The Sun Tree holds its blessing ceremony every thirty-six years. There are only four years left until the next Sun Blessing, and this is Martha’s only chance. That’s why General Moonsong called on me, and my brothers and I all came. No matter what, we have to try.”

Iluth Moonsong stepped in front of the Dragon Hunter and stated firmly, “I’m the one who makes the decisions now.”

After meeting the War Dancer’s gaze for two seconds, the stubborn Dwarf looked away and nodded. “Right, you’re the captain who makes the decisions.”

Iluth smiled triumphantly and said, “Mr. nightingale is the immediate danger. We need to talk to him.”

“My Sister, Mr. nightingale will not allow us to touch ‘Freya’s Tear’. Even if we act with him, we won’t be able to achieve our goal,” Angris reminded her.

“That’s what we need to talk about.” Iluth tilted her head and explained, “You saw the nightingale’s power and his ears. The blessing of the Moon Tree might not be effective on him, but the blessing of the Sun Tree could surely restore his Moon Elf bloodline’s power. If his goal is to restore his bloodline, then there’s no conflict between us.”

Angris pondered what her Sister had said, and her eyes gradually brightened. The nightingale was an incredibly powerful elven Wanderer. Even if he took “Freya’s Tear,” it wouldn’t matter. As long as the Silverhawk scouts brought him back to the Empire, it would be a remarkable achievement, and Her Majesty the Empress Regnant would permit them to participate in the Sun Tree’s blessing ceremony.

“Where’s that bastard Qiqi? Send someone to find him. Once Greybeard wakes up, we’ll go see Mr. nightingale,” Iluth Moonsong commanded.

The Silverhawk scouts’ reaction was exactly what Victor had expected. He had made himself the bait; there was no reason for them to ignore it.

This conflict involved mythological creatures. Following Father Miller’s standards, Victor, fighting on enemy territory, could not be too cautious. Especially with such vague information, The Lord of Sorrow, and perhaps the Ant-man Empress, were lurking in the shadows. Victor could not easily reveal his own existence.

Using the Elven Empire’s scouts as cover was the best method Victor could devise.

Imosen had communicated with The Lord of Sorrow and had also impersonated a special envoy from the Elven Empire. He was acting together with Father Dayn, so The Lord of Sorrow’s attention should be focused on them. Rationally speaking, Charlotte’s team, being watched by the Rejuvenated Ancient God, was in the most danger.

In fact, it was quite the opposite. If The Lord of Sorrow was incapable of detecting Narsen’s squad and the elven scouts trailing behind, it meant His abilities were limited. Victor believed the forces arranged by Miller would be more than enough for Him to handle; the Holy Crystal and Caligula were not just for show.

Narsen’s team was the weakest, but Mewen, with her Blue Dragon Bloodline, could borrow the power of the Raging Wind Sword Saint at any time. Through Mewen, Victor could project Nemesis, Raging Wind Domain, Chilling Wind, and Grasp of the Wind Djinn over vast distances. The effectiveness of these Transcendent combat skills would be diminished, but they could still handle most unexpected situations.

Most crucially, Victor had not set any mandatory objectives for the two teams. Their goal was to explore the ruins, relying on the psychic intuition of the Ferocious warriors to avoid danger, allowing them ample autonomy to maneuver.

The elven scouts were different. Their objective was clear: to seize “Freya’s Tear.” If The Lord of Sorrow had the spare capacity to notice this third team, one could only imagine how great His power was. Therefore, the elven scout squad where Victor was hiding was, in fact, the most dangerously exposed bait.

The Dwarven Prophet’s divination ritual, however, brought Victor an unexpected surprise. Although it was currently impossible to confirm the accuracy of the interpretation, the entire ritual process seemed quite impressive. The Prophet had specifically mentioned “a tunnel full of black ooze and ants,” which made Victor think of the Ant-men. This largely coincided with information he already possessed, indicating that the Dwarf’s divination had its merits. Thus, Victor quietly committed the “underground river” and “lake” from the divination to memory.

Victor deactivated his Nemesis talent. His sharp gaze turned to the distant east, the corners of his mouth curling into a faint, meaningful smile. He leaped from the twenty-meter-high ancient tree and ran swiftly west, toward the expeditionary force’s camp.

Two days later, Iluth’s scouting party appeared near the abandoned camp of the Randell Expeditionary Force. They observed cautiously from a distance, seeing five crude but sturdy bark-and-wood huts standing in the snow, surrounded by large tree stumps and some unused logs.

Although such a wooden camp offered simple living conditions, it was far more comfortable than roughing it in the wilderness like the elven scouts. Along the way, while trailing the expeditionary team of the other races, they had discovered more than a dozen such abandoned camps. However, Iluth Moonsong never allowed her subordinates to use them, as forest animals and beastmen would dare to approach these unoccupied sites. This was because the vicinity of the camps was littered with the droppings of large, ferocious beasts.

This time was no exception; they found the excrement of ferocious beasts on the camp’s periphery. However, the terrifying aura that had been weighing on Iluth Moonsong’s mind had vanished. She knew the powerful Dragon retainers were no longer marking their territory, that the demigod powerhouse of the other race was tacitly allowing them to enter this abandoned camp.

Iluth Moonsong had felt the goodwill from the demigod of the other race more than once. At this moment, she wondered whether the demigod was conveying goodwill to her or to the mysterious nightingale.

Or, were they in it together?

Iluth suppressed her suspicions and decided to first see what was inside this camp.

The elven scouts went to different wooden structures to inspect the interiors. Iluth led the Tree Elf Angris and the Dwarven Dragon Hunter Yudrit straight toward the largest wooden hut. Just as they approached, they smelled a peculiar odor, like amber essential oil mixed with some herbs.

After pushing open the wooden door, a simple wooden table and chairs came into view, but Iluth’s gaze was fixed on a Barrel in the corner of the living area. The strange smell was emanating from it.

She stopped in her tracks and used hand signals to tell her companions that there was movement in the room inside, but not to take any drastic action. Then, she walked over to the Barrel, her hand resting on the hilt of her curved sword. Peeking inside, she found it was half-full of a silvery-white liquid.

The liquid was extremely viscous and had a metallic texture. She picked up a stick next to the Barrel and tried to stir it. The silvery-white liquid clung to the end of the stick as if it had been plated with a layer of Mithril.

Iluth thought for a moment, then took the stick stained with the silvery-white potion and walked toward a room on the side of the living area. The dim, near-dark light couldn’t obstruct the elves’ extraordinary vision. A giant bird with its wings chopped off was lying moribund on a large round table, pinned there by two spears. If not for the faint, pale flames still flickering in its eye sockets, it would be indistinguishable from a corpse.

“A half-demonized undead snake-tailed vulture!” Angris Windsong exclaimed in a low voice. “Those other races encountered this kind of monster too?”

“…They may have found a way to deal with this type of undead monster.”

Iluth thoughtfully raised the stick in her hand, examining the part stained with the potion, and casually thrust it at the half-dead black-blooded bird.

The blunt stick, as if it were a sharp blade, easily pierced the black-blooded bird’s body. A sizzling sound erupted where it was struck, the black blood rapidly disappearing as a silvery-white radiance spread from the wound. The plump muscle tissue withered and dried at a visible rate. The pale flames in the black-blooded bird’s eye sockets flared violently before being extinguished completely.

This time, the undead creature, which lacked vital points, had truly become a corpse. Its once-flaming eye sockets revealed grayish-white, deathly still eyeballs.

“Was this left for us by the expedition team of the other races?” the Dwarven Dragon Hunter finally couldn’t help but ask loudly.

“With this amazing potion, our arrows will be effective the next time we encounter the undead,” the Tree Elf Wind Walk Archer said with delight.

“It was indeed left for you.” A pleasant voice drifted down from the stairs inside the room. Mr. nightingale, his form as graceful as the bright moonlight, then appeared in the sight of the elf and the Dwarf.

Angris and Yudrit both covered their foreheads with their left hands, offering the mysterious elven Wanderer a courtesy only Greater Elves deserved.

A sense of powerlessness welled up in Iluth Moonsong’s heart. She had been as cautious as possible, yet she still hadn’t detected the nightingale’s presence beforehand. With this level of stealth, even the demigod of the other race and his Dragon retainers might not have been able to sense him.

If they are not working together, then the potion in the barrel was indeed left for us intentionally by the demigod… What is His purpose for doing this… Various thoughts spun in Iluth Moonsong’s mind, but her movements were not the least bit slow as she bowed to the black-haired, black-eyed nightingale. Looking up, she asked, “My lord Nightingale, we have come.”

The smile on the nightingale’s face was dazzling to the elves. He said, neither coldly nor warmly, “Should I applaud your courage, or mock your recklessness? If you continue forward, are you prepared to embrace death?”

Iluth took a step forward, past her two companions, and looked at the nightingale on the stairs. She asked in a clear voice, “My lord Nightingale, can we turn back now?”

“Of course, you can.” The nightingale nodded, his expression placid. “This is the dividing line. If you turn back here, I will not stop you. If you cross this line, you will have to be my assistants. I will not allow you to sneak around behind me.”

“As a kinsman, you need our assistance,” Iluth said earnestly, looking directly into the nightingale’s deep, dark eyes.

“Don’t think too highly of yourselves. I rarely have companions who walk side by side with me.” The nightingale’s tone was somewhat low. He paused for a moment, then continued, “I admit, you are of some use to me. By the same token, I am of more use to you, am I not?”

The War Dancer General nodded in acknowledgment and said, “May I ask you a few questions, mighty Mr. Nightingale?”

“You’ve already asked many… and I have many questions to ask you as well.” The nightingale’s tone was modest yet suffused with confident pride. He said magnanimously, “You may ask first.”

Iluth asked without the slightest hesitation, “Mr. Nightingale, may I ask how you knew that the elven sacred object, ‘Freya’s Tear’, lies ahead?”

The nightingale’s lips curled upwards, revealing his perfectly white, straight teeth, which were strikingly bright in the dim room.

“…That is an excellent question.”

Chapter 792: The Moonlight’s Guidance

The whereabouts of Freya’s Tear were buried in the Elven Empire’s vast, ocean-like historical archives. If not for Silverhawk City’s frequent battles with the Ant-man armies, they would have no record of the Asoerta Temple hiding a sacred object. Even so, the legend of the Empire’s sacred object was rarely heeded.

The span of time was too great, the historical documents too numerous. In the end, vague ancient legends were bound to be forgotten by later generations.

Iluth had learned of the rumor about the Elven sacred object in the Asoerta Temple by chance. This was thanks to the arrogant Eglok Graybeard. As a Dwarven Prophet, he had the right to consult the historical documents collected in Silverymoon City to enrich his knowledge and improve the accuracy of his divinations. He had unintentionally stumbled upon a dusty, tattered scroll that recorded some of the Secret History of the Yasurta Empire and the Ant-men. Eglok had then performed a divination based on this and boasted of the result to several of his friends.

Eglok’s unintentional act had allowed Iluth and the others to learn of the rumors about Freya’s Tear.

Nightingale, a lone Wanderer—how could he possibly know about the Elven sacred object?

This question struck at the heart of Nightingale’s origins, and Iluth suspected he was no Wanderer at all. If he couldn’t provide a reasonable explanation, Iluth would have to reconsider cooperating with this strange Wanderer.

Nightingale leaped down from the stairs, landing steadily in front of the two elves and the dwarf. He said coolly, “I heard ‘Freya’s Tear’ from a Bear-monster Elder… It tried to ambush me while I was distracted, so I killed it.”

Bear-monsters were intelligent beastmen protected by the Jungle Sanctuary, and they were a troublesome opponent for the Elven Empire. Bear-monster Elders in particular, possessing both wisdom and ferocity, were as cunning as they were strong. The jungle concealed their sound and scent, granting them an effect similar to a Halfling’s psychic invisibility, allowing them to circle behind Elven combat professionals undetected. On top of that, they possessed the physique and strength of an Ogre Warlord, even sharper wild intuition, and an exceptionally powerful bloodline talent.

If Silverhawk City were to encounter a Bear-monster Elder, even Iluth Moonsong would be unable to pinpoint the source of her premonition of danger. She wouldn’t be able to spot the enemy first, and the best option would be to retreat swiftly.

A Bear-monster Elder was a Tier 6 creature, but in the forest, it was even more powerful than a Tier 6 Ogre Warlord. The difference was almost an entire tier.

Fortunately, the Bear-monster population was not large, and the Elders were even rarer. They were usually mild-tempered and did not have the habit of keeping Goblin thralls. Although their attitude towards the Elven Empire was cold, as long as it wasn’t a time of war, they would actively avoid the Elves.

The question was, how did a Bear-monster Elder, who couldn’t speak their language, have a conversation with the Wanderer, Nightingale? And how did it know the whereabouts of the Elven sacred object?

“Haha, that’s the funniest… uh, truest thing I’ve ever heard…”

The blunt Dwarf, Yudrit, couldn’t help but start to laugh mockingly, but a glance from Nightingale’s dark, deep eyes made him shudder and quickly change his tune. He was still a bit defiant but lacked the courage to argue with the mysterious Wanderer again. He shuffled sheepishly to the side, looking left and right, pretending to be very interested in the empty wooden cabin.

Iluth Moonsong was half-convinced, half-skeptical—mostly skeptical. However, Mr. Nightingale had already given his answer, and questioning him to his face would be far from a wise move.

“Mr. Nightingale, you are truly amazing. Bear-monster Elders are the ghosts of the forest. I have heard of their great strength, but I have never witnessed it myself. For you to be able to kill one, it must have been a spectacular battle,” Angris said sincerely, her face full of admiration, her hands clasped before her chest.

Victor was slightly taken aback. Judging by the rhythm of her heartbeat and breathing, and the light in her blue eyes, he quickly determined that this beautiful Tree Elf completely believed his story. He nodded, maintaining the aloof persona of Nightingale the Wanderer, and said, “It was a perilous battle. I nearly lost my life, but in the end, the Bear-monster Elder died by my arrow…”

“Alright, now it’s my turn to ask a question.” Victor turned to the General from Silverymoon City. “Do you know how to use ‘Freya’s Tear’?”

Iluth’s gaze shifted from the quiver on Nightingale’s back. She clearly didn’t believe he had killed a Bear-monster Elder with those crude wooden-shafted arrows, but she still answered respectfully, “We do not know how to use ‘Freya’s Tear’… Only Her Majesty, the Empress Regnant of the Elven Empire, understands the mysteries of the sacred object. If we deliver the sacred object to Her Majesty, she will certainly be willing to perform the blessing ceremony of the Sun Tree for us. Mr. Nightingale, although you are a Wanderer, you must know of the great Sun Tree. The blessing of the Sun Tree can enhance your Bloodline power. Not only can it repair your physical flaws, but it will also make your Bloodline stronger and grant you a long life.”

Victor let his dark, charming eyes move in a deliberate manner and said thoughtfully, “It’s difficult for us to trust each other just like that, so I have a proposal. If we cooperate, you will make the decisions for the upcoming expedition. I will not accept your command, nor will I raise any objections. I will simply follow you. When necessary, I can lend you a hand. Once we have ‘Freya’s Tear’, we can have a proper discussion.”

These terms were too generous for the Silverhawk scouts—so generous that Iluth couldn’t believe it.

Seeing the Gold rank War Dancer remain silent, Victor turned and walked toward the door, saying without looking back, “I’m going out to prepare some food. You all think it over. If you agree to cooperate, we’ll set out together tomorrow. If not, then please leave.”

Just as Victor was about to step out the door, Iluth called out to his proud, retreating figure, “Mr. Nightingale, if you don’t participate in the decision-making, aren’t you afraid we might lead you into a trap?”

Victor stopped, turned around, and raised an eyebrow that was even more slender and elegant than a Tree Elf’s. “This is how a Wanderer cooperates with unfamiliar partners,” he said. “At least, it is for me.”

Though these were his words, Nightingale’s expression and bearing oozed confidence and disdain, as if to say: You think you’re capable of trapping me?

Once the Wanderer had left the cabin, the Dwarf Yudrit said impatiently, “I like this arrogant fellow! He doesn’t interfere with our actions and has the strength to back it up. He definitely won’t be a burden…”

“Yudrit, you can’t slander Mr. Nightingale behind his back! The proud title of Son of the Moon God does not accept being described as ‘arrogant’…” Angris glared at her dwarven companion, her long, pointed ears standing straight up and trembling slightly with anger.

“Quiet!” Iluth snapped at her two deputies. After a pause, she said, “It seems you both agree to let Mr. Nightingale join our team… But I worry that he might be hostile towards the Other-race Demigod. If those Other races are also after the Elven sacred object, we would have had no chance of seizing it from them and could have chosen to give up in time. But Nightingale has a chance to take the sacred object. You can imagine what will happen next.”

Nightingale was powerful, stronger than any of the Silverhawk scouts, but he was likely no match for an Other-race Demigod. Even if Nightingale managed to get the sacred object and escape from the Demigod, the Silverhawk scouts wouldn’t be able to get away. If Nightingale’s objective overlapped with the Other-race Demigod’s, he would surely bring ruin upon the Silverhawk scouts.

“Mr. Nightingale said the decision is ours to make. Besides, we want the sacred object too,” the Dwarf warrior said in a gruff voice. “General, you almost had him convinced just now. He knows he needs the blessing of the Sun Tree. But what about those Other races? Who knows what they’re thinking? If they’re trying to use the sacred object to harm the Elven Empire, then even if they have a Tier 9 Demigod, a Dwarf will let them have a taste of a bone-breaking hammer!”

“Sister, the sacred object belongs to the Elven Empire,” Angris Windsong said with determination.

A fierce smile bloomed on Iluth’s lips. She nodded and said, “I’m not preparing to give up. I just want you all to be ready for a fight.”

“Moon above, hills below.”

“May the Moon God protect us.”

The scouting party’s two deputies gave General Moonsong a solemn salute.

“Good. Gather all the team members. We’ll discuss our strategy,” Iluth Moonsong ordered.

Having reached an agreement with the General, Yudrit felt so full of energy he could forge iron for three days straight. He rushed out of the cabin excitedly, found his fellow dwarves, and shouted in a booming voice, “Is that bastard Eglok awake yet? The General is gathering everyone to discuss the battle plan! We’re going to find a way to get the sacred object back… and we’re acting with Mr. Nightingale.”

“Nightingale loves to brag, too. He said he killed a Bear-monster Elder and learned the location of the sacred object from its mouth. Haha, but I like the guy.”

The other dwarves roared with laughter, but it was out of goodwill and approval. All dwarves liked to brag and liked people who bragged.

Eglok, who had been pretending to sleep to slack off, immediately shot up from his leather mat. His eyes widened in astonishment as he asked, “Mr. Nightingale said a Bear-monster Elder told him about the goddess’s sacred object?”

“Isn’t that something? A Bear-monster Elder just goes ‘Hoo, hoo, hoo,’ it can’t speak the language of the Elven Empire.” Yudrit pinched his red nose and said with a comical expression, “The Bear-monster Elder knew where the sacred object was? Did it sneak into the Silverhawk City library to read the historical archives? It would have to learn to read first.”

The Dragon Hunter’s performance sparked another round of booming laughter from the dwarves. Eglok Graybeard puffed out his beard and pointed a finger at Yudrit, yelling, “Only a stupid dwarf with a head full of molten iron would think that’s a brag! There is a type of Bear-monster Elder that can awaken its bloodline memory, gain ancient knowledge, and communicate with intelligent life of the same tier. That’s a Tier 7 Bear-monster Shaman, also called a Son of Ursoloc. If Mr. Nightingale encountered a Son of Ursoloc, it wouldn’t be strange at all for him to learn about the goddess’s sacred object from it. Because it was the Silverymoon Council of the ancient Elven Empire that helped the Azoretta people build the temple, at least tens of thousands of years ago!”

The boisterous dwarves fell silent. Yudrit rubbed his red nose and muttered with a look of disappointment, “So Mr. Nightingale doesn’t like to brag… I wonder, does he like tobacco and strong liquor?”

The sharp-eared elven warriors gathered around. General Moonsong asked sternly, “Greybeard, did you just say that a Tier 7 Son of Ursoloc can communicate with intelligent life of the same tier?”

A Dwarven Prophet was invariably a Dwarven scholar. To be precise, a wealth of learning was a prerequisite for advancing to Prophet. Eglok’s divinatory interpretations were at an apprentice level, but no one would doubt his knowledge.

“It can communicate with intelligent life of the same tier or higher… If Mr. Nightingale wasn’t bragging, he is at least a Tier 7 intelligent being,” Eglok said, looking very pleased with himself.

“My lord Nightingale must be a noble Son of the Moon God…” Angris sighed with a sweet smile. “The sacred moonlight guided my lord Nightingale to meet us.”

Her Majesty the Empress Regnant was in the process of choosing an heir; the new monarch would ascend the throne in a few more decades. For the long-lived High Elves, a few decades was just enough time to complete a change of rule. And at this very moment, Mr. Nightingale had appeared. He was a Tier 7 Son of the Moon God. If he received the blessing of the Sun Tree, he might ascend to become a legendary Tier 8 Greater Elf, which would surely make him the spouse for the next Empress Regnant… This generation’s Empress Regnant’s husband was only a Tier 7 Greater Elf… Could all of this truly be the will of the Moon God?

Iluth’s mind raced with these thoughts, yet a faint unease stirred within her. She furrowed her thick brows, her gaze turning thoughtfully toward the east, the direction from which they had come—the direction of Silverhawk City.

At dusk, Victor returned to the abandoned camp, dragging the two hind legs of a freshly killed deer. The swirling snowflakes could not land on him. The elves and dwarves were all gathered under an open-air rain shelter, watching him with looks of awe. As soon as their eyes met Victor’s, they immediately lowered their heads in a show of respect.

Victor sensed the strange atmosphere but didn’t know what had happened earlier. He paid it no mind and walked over to another rain shelter. A finely crafted wool rug was spread on the ground, and on it sat a brazier for grilling, already laid with dry firewood. Beside it were spices for grilling, fine salt, oil, and a bucket of clean water.

All of this had clearly been prepared especially for Mr. Nightingale by the Silverhawk scouts.

Victor didn’t greet the Silverhawk scouts. He unslung the bow and quiver from his back, lit the firewood, and began to dress the deer legs with a bone knife. He rarely prepared his own kills, but the highest realm of the fire of the mind made any manual task he performed seem incredibly skillful, possessing a unique rhythmic beauty. He swiftly cut the plump venison into chunks of just the right size and thickness and skewered them on iron rods for grilling.

Perhaps it was because the elven spices were unique, but even though Victor’s grilling skills were not as divine as Caligula’s, he was still very satisfied with the meal. After finishing ten skewers of roasted venison, Victor continued to cut and grill more meat. The tantalizing aroma drifted over to the other rain shelter, causing the Dwarf warriors to drool.

Hunting in the snow was not easy; Victor had run over three hundred kilometers before he managed to kill a stag. None of the Silverhawk scouts had gone out to hunt, so they could only nibble on their journey rations while enviously watching Nightingale enjoy the roasted venison all by himself.

After a while, the short Halfling, holding a pot, ran from the elves’ side to Victor’s shelter. He said cautiously, “Mr. Nightingale, I am Qiqi, the gourmet from Silverhawk City. This is a meat stew I made especially for you. I wanted to offer it to you.”

Seeing that Nightingale had no intention of refusing, Qiqi nimbly lifted the lid and presented the stew to him.

The broth in the earthenware pot was a greasy yellow, its aroma assailing the nostrils. Inside was a stewed bird and a thumb-sized grub. The bird looked like a pigeon, but Victor recognized it as an old crow…

Crow soup was one thing, but what was the meaning of this worm… crow and worm stew, was this some kind of joke?

The pampered My lord Earl would certainly not deign to taste crow and worm soup, but Nightingale, the lonely Wanderer, should not refuse a stew offered to him, regardless of whether it contained crow or worm.

Victor imagined the crow was a pigeon and the worm a sea cucumber. Under the Halfling’s expectant gaze, he tasted a spoonful of the warm, thick soup.

“Tastes good,” My lord Nightingale commented in a faint tone, though he privately agreed that the soup was indeed quite tasty.

…One might even say, it was extremely delicious.

The Halfling Qiqi was already grinning from ear to ear. He pointed to the meat in the pot and said eagerly, “My lord Nightingale, you should try this old crow, and this Ice Melon Worm. Oh, right, the Ice Melon Worm is also called an Ice Maggot. Just like the old crow, they are both carrion-eaters.”

X-3 concealed his inner thoughts, meticulously manipulating his facial muscles into a perfect smile. Victor flashed the Halfling gourmet a grin, revealing eight perfectly white, even teeth. “Good.”

Chapter 793: The Shadow of the Abyss

“An old crow’s meat is tough and stringy. No matter how long you stew it, it never gets tender. It also has a foul, gamey taste that makes it nearly inedible… So, I plucked the old crow I caught, buried it in the snow, and lured out an Ice Melon Worm… Ice Melon Worms specialize in eating frozen birds and beasts. They secrete a special mucus that softens the hard, frozen meat while also dissolving impurities and toxins, making the old crow’s flesh tender…”

“The Ice Melon Worm is a rare delicacy in its own right, but unfortunately, there’s too little meat on them, not even enough for a Halfling. Once the crow’s meat is transformed, stewing it with the Ice Melon Worm gives the soup a fresh, tender, and delicious flavor. Then I dig up Kui Roots, add some dried mushrooms and nuts, and stew everything together in an earthenware pot with the crow meat and the Ice Melon Worm. This gives it a much richer taste… Mr. Nightingale, I stewed this pot of Winter Crow and Ice Worm Soup all afternoon. What do you think of the flavor?”

In the wilderness during the snowy season, food was the most precious resource. The Randell Expeditionary Force had spent its entire journey starting and stopping, constantly worrying about resupplying. Qiqi, being a small and weak Halfling, couldn’t be expected to hunt a deer. Even if he had the ability, he wouldn’t do it. Minimizing their impact on the environment was the basis of a Halfling’s psychic invisibility. If they hunted an animal more than half their own weight, it would take them several days to recover their ability to hide from sight.

A crow and an Ice Melon Worm were ingredients Qiqi could acquire, and with his skillful cooking, he transformed them into a rare delicacy.

Setting aside the habitual perceptions of human Nobles, Victor found himself enjoying a treat a Halfling would offer as tribute to a Hydra Lizard.

A lone Wanderer like Nightingale would not turn his nose up at crow and Ice Maggot. It could be said that Qiqi had prepared this meal especially for Mr. Nightingale, and it was filled with Halfling ingenuity and sincerity, capable of touching the heart of the one receiving the tribute.

To eat another’s food is to soften your words; to take another’s things is to shorten your reach. And a Halfling adventurer’s offering of food directly involved the mystical psychic level. Having accepted Qiqi’s bribe, Victor’s fondness for him increased immensely. Barring the use of X-3 to eliminate such psychic interference, he would have no subjective will to harm the Halfling.

The Halfling Qiqi had gray-blue eyes and a round head on a round face. He was older than the Potian brothers but had the same adorable appearance. When he spoke, he would gesture animatedly with his hands and feet, appearing articulate, lively, and endearing. Victor couldn’t help but entertain the thought of taking all three Halflings home; Sylvia would surely love Halfling attendants.

Unfortunately, Bobo, Tiantian, and Qiqi were not “wild” Halflings. They had mastered advanced breathing methods and extraordinary techniques for hiding from sight. They could vanish at any moment, and even Victor would have to expend considerable vigor to find them. He was unwilling to waste his Nemesis talent on jesters.

Patting Qiqi’s head, Victor handed him a skewer of roasted venison and smiled. “I am most satisfied with the thick soup you offered… This is my reward for you. And feel free to enjoy the deer leg over there.”

The self-proclaimed gourmet, Qiqi, began expertly roasting the venison, his nimble, bright eyes darting toward the two bone knives Victor had placed on a mat. “My lord Nightingale,” he asked curiously, “may I have a look at your bone knives?”

“Be my guest.”

Placing the skewered venison on the grill, Qiqi picked up a bone knife to examine it closely. His eyes lit up. “Wow, this is a bone knife polished from the leg bone of a Tier 6 Ogre… My lord Nightingale, have you killed an Ogre Warlord?”

“I have.”

“May I see your bow and arrows?”

“You may.”

“My lord Nightingale, your arrowheads look like the teeth of some kind of dire beast, but I can’t recognize what animal they’re from.”

“They’re from a Fanged Tiger-Fish from the marsh, a kind of ferocious, large fish.”

“My lord Nightingale, you’ve been to the Great Marsh? Have you seen the legendary Hydra Lizard then?”

“I have…”

Qiqi’s blue-gray eyes darted about. He diligently tended to the roasting venison, then scampered back under the Silverhawk scouts’ rain shelter, snatched a bottle of sweet fruit wine from beside a Dwarf guard, and scurried back to present it to Victor. His eyes shining, he asked, “Could lord Nightingale tell Qiqi some of your adventure stories?”

The metal flask the Halfling brought over seemed to be some Dwarf’s treasured possession. It was made of fine materials with exquisite engravings, and the wine within had a unique style. Victor had little interest in fine food and wine, but he adopted the mentality of the Wanderer, Nightingale. He unscrewed the cap, first smelling the wine’s aroma, then taking a small sip, affecting an expression of satisfaction and nostalgia. After a pause, he began to tell the Halfling of his experiences defeating numerous powerful opponents.

Victor did not speak of Nightingale’s origins but instead crafted a backstory of a small, forgotten clan of Wanderers struggling to survive in the Giantwood Forest. Victor Nightingale was the sole survivor of this clan. Burdened by the pain of losing his people, he had reawakened his Bloodline powers step by step through brutal struggles against beastmen. Starting as a Wild Elf Wanderer with a dwindling Bloodline, he had defeated a Gnoll chief, an Ogre Warlord, a Centaur Chiliarch, a Bear-monster Elder, and many other powerful foes, gradually becoming a solitary yet mighty Moon Elf Wanderer.

Nightingale’s equipment was crude and primitive, yet it bore witness to his extraordinary combat record, adding a heavy weight to the stories he told. Before they knew it, all the Silverhawk scouts had crowded under the rain shelter, gathered around the brazier, listening to Mr. Nightingale’s tales while enjoying skewers of roasted forest venison.

By the time Victor finished his last battle story, the Dwarf guards and Elf warriors had devoured the two plump deer legs, leaving nothing but bones.

Sharing food was an effective way to get closer to strangers. Victor didn’t mind the Elves and Dwarves eating all his prey; he wanted to learn more about the Elven Empire. Although Bobo and Tiantian had already revealed a great deal, the two little ones were as playful as Bel and were always clueless when asked about the hidden histories of the Elven Empire.

The Halfling Qiqi seemed older than the Potian brothers and had a place by the side of the Silverhawk City General. He was likely a knowledgeable and history-savvy Halfling adventurer. In front of all the Silverhawk scouts, Victor asked directly, “Before I killed the Bear-monster Elder, he claimed that the Bear-monsters were allies of the Elven Empire. He also said that Freya’s Tear could enhance my Bloodline… Can the Elven Empress Regnant in Aylanta really do that?”

“No problem! Her Majesty the Empress Regnant is the highest-tier shaman of the Moon Goddess. She can perform the Sun Tree blessing ceremony. The other Elven princesses don’t have Her Majesty’s ability,” the Halfling Qiqi said with great certainty, waving his arms.

Victor adopted a slightly silent Posture, then asked, “The Sun Tree… what is that?”

The Halfling’s mouth opened wide enough to fit a pigeon’s egg. “Mr. Nightingale,” he exclaimed, “how long have your people been wandering outside? Have you really forgotten even the Sun Tree?”

“Hmph.” Victor’s gaze turned cold. He gave a faint snort and said no more.

Seeing that Nightingale seemed displeased, Qiqi stammered, “Actually, I don’t know much about the Sun Tree either. You should ask an elf… Olavie, Olavie, come and explain what the Sun Tree is.”

The Tree Elf Wind Walk Archer twitched his long ears and looked pleadingly at the other Elf warriors, but they just looked at each other, their ears turning back as they avoided each other’s gazes, all looking rather embarrassed.

“My lord Nightingale, the truth is, none of us have ever been to Aylanta, nor have we seen the great Sun Tree…” Angris Windsong explained in a very soft voice.

The Elves, Dwarves, and Halfling present were all rather outstanding young combat professionals from Silverymoon City. They spent a great deal of time and vigor every day studying breathing methods and combat techniques, reaching an average combat professional level of Tier 3 or 4, but they had almost no achievements in terms of knowledge. For a question like “What is the Sun Tree,” they truly couldn’t give a clear answer.

However, there was one exception among the Silverhawk scouts.

“Haha, you lot never study. The cat’s out of the bag now, isn’t it?” Eglok Graybeard loudly mocked his companions, then turned to Victor. “My lord Nightingale, the Sun Tree is the first tree in the world. It gestated the great Moon Goddess. In the beginning of the world, the Creator, Taelon Ruier, awoke from the chaos. He created the first primordial beings to help Him shape the world. However, the world was a pitch-dark place at the time, and the primordial beings couldn’t tell which way was which. They prayed to their Father for light. Taelon Ruier had no choice but to expend the last of His Spirit to become the Sun God, Frey, bringing light to the dark world.”

“The Sun God Frey is the incarnation of the Creator Taelon Ruier. He hangs in the sky, reigning over all primordial beings. But a world with only day was not enough. The primordial beings began to complain that their work was endless and demanded darkness and dormancy from the Sun God Frey.”

“The sun is the manifestation of light, so how could Frey bring darkness? With the primordial beings slacking off and sleeping, chaos returned to the world. It took the form of the Giant Serpent Kapotis and tore the material world created by Taelon Ruier in two. The Frey in the sky was both anxious and furious. He cast down half his power to awaken the most powerful primordial—the Earth Mother. The sun’s light shining on the ground became the world’s first tree, the Sun Tree. From the Sun Tree, Frey’s will gestated the Moon Goddess—Freya. The sun thus grew dim, turning into the silver moon in the night sky.”

“The Goddess Freya, upholding the will of the Sun God, united with the Earth Mother and other primordial beings to defeat the chaos, driving Kapotis underground. The Chaos Giant Serpent then carved out the Abyss plane in the depths of the earth. The Moon Goddess called upon the primordials and worked to repair the world damaged by the Chaos Giant Serpent. The rift that had torn reality apart gradually healed, becoming the largest river in the world. It’s said that if you follow any river in the forest downstream, you will eventually see that majestic great river… Uh, unfortunately, I’ve never seen that great river myself, so I don’t know if it’s true or not.”

The Dwarf Prophet stuffed another skewer of roasted venison into his mouth, mumbling indistinctly. He was schooling the Wanderer Nightingale in the myths and legends of the Elven Empire, unaware that Victor had already heard the exact same myth from the Halfling brothers.

After finishing the meat in his mouth, Eglok Graybeard continued, “The Sun God’s power and will became the Moon Goddess Freya, allowing Her to walk upon the earth. The Moon Goddess united with the primordials to perfect the material world, but the Sun God in the sky gradually fell silent. The sun rose and the moon set, the moon rose and the sun set, day after day, but He never spoke to Freya again. The Goddess felt lonely and missed Frey terribly. Until one day, the Sun Tree birthed a male elf. He was the second incarnation of the Sun God Frey, a perfect being in accordance with the laws of the new world. The Goddess was overjoyed, believing this to be the Sun God’s reward to Her. She took the world’s first Greater Elf as her partner, and together they procreated the Elven race.”

Myths—fictional origins of the world—naturally served to bolster the ruling class. The Radiant Church, which held a say in matters in the human kingdoms, had its own set of myths and legends, with the Lord of Radiance replacing the Sun God Frey as the Creator’s incarnation. Although High-ranked Knights did not accept the Radiant Church’s claims, the myths propagated by the Church were very popular among the common populace.

Victor didn’t entirely believe the common myths circulating in the Elven Empire; they had discrepancies with the information from the ancient Alchemist’s Rune Crystal, at the very least. The ancient Alchemist had mentioned Taelon Ruier, the Chaos Giant Serpent, and the Bird of Light as three Creators. In the Elven myth told by the Dwarf Prophet, not only was the Bird of Light absent, but the Sun God was revered as the Creator’s incarnation, and the Moon Goddess was a deity created by the Sun God, which subtly elevated the status of the Elves.

The myth Eglok told was largely the same as the version recounted by the Halfling brothers, but Victor believed the Dwarf Prophet surely had some new tidbit to show off.

Sure enough, the Dwarf Prophet continued, “The Sun Tree is like the eternal sun, it will never die… Actually, that’s not true. Its lifespan is only 360 years. Every 360 years, the Sun Tree completes a rebirth. The old roots, bark, trunk, branches, and leaves are gradually shed during its life cycle and replaced by new growth. During this rebirth process, the power it accumulates can be used for ten blessing ceremonies, but the most effective blessing is the one performed when the Elven Empress Regnant selects her heir… If Mr. Nightingale can participate in the succession blessing ceremony, you will definitely have your High Elf Bloodline awakened by the Sun Tree’s divine power, grow a pair of beautiful long ears, and your lifespan will increase to over 300 years.”

“A lifespan of over 300 years?” Victor asked, a little tempted.

“High Elves theoretically have a lifespan of 360 years, but in reality, no elf lives to their maximum lifespan. It’s usually around 300 years.” Eglok stroked his beard as he spoke. “Greater Elves generally live longer than Moon Elves. They have a gentle temperament and are the only High Elves who can raise their life tier through the Moon Tree or Sun Tree. The Elven Empress Regnant or Elven princesses are Tier 5 Moon Elves, but Greater Elves can reach Tier 6, Tier 7, or even Tier 8… If Mr. Nightingale receives the Sun Tree’s blessing, maybe you could become a Tier 8 Greater Elf.”

Victor swirled the flask in his hand and asked, as if casually, “Tier 8… Are there no Tier 9 Greater Elves?”

Eglok stared at the metal flask, which still contained more than half a pot of fruit wine. He swallowed with a gurgle and shook his head. “Well… logically, there should be Tier 9 Greater Elves, but the archives in Silverhawk City have no records of them. Perhaps Aylanta has some…”

Victor nodded, handed the flask to the Graybeard Dwarf, and asked, “What about the Moon Tree?”

“Thank you, lord Nightingale.” Eglok, for once, politely thanked Nightingale. He took the flask and, under the envious gazes of his fellow Dwarves, took a beautiful sip. “The seeds of the Sun Tree can grow into Moon Trees,” he said with a happy smile. “Moon Trees absorb the power of the silver moon and can also perform blessing ceremonies, but their blessing’s divine power is nothing compared to the Sun Tree’s… Also, Moon Trees die naturally. Their lifespan is generally no more than 1500 years. When a Moon Tree is about to die, the City-state’s Council must petition Aylanta for a new Sun Tree seed.”

“If a City-state fails to grow a new Moon Tree, the City-state will soon perish, and its inhabitants can only migrate to other City-states. During this process of mass migration, there will always be Elves, Dwarves, Halflings, and forest Centaurs who become Wanderers.”

“According to my Tutor, the Elven Empire was once incredibly powerful, with Elven City-states scattered in regions beyond the Endless Forest. But due to wars with evil human city-states, the Elven Empire abandoned its City-state fiefs outside the Endless Forest… I suspect Mr. Nightingale’s clan lost contact with the Elven Empire during that period and became Wanderers… Oh, right, Mr. Nightingale mentioned earlier that you live in the Giantwood Forest.”

“…Where is the Giantwood Forest?”

Victor glanced at the Dwarf but didn’t speak. Eglok smacked his own forehead in annoyance and grumbled, “Alright, I shouldn’t have been nosy… Dwarves can never keep their big mouths shut. Mr. Nightingale will get used to it. Where were we?”

Victor said coolly, “I want to know about the Black Blood demons…”

“What?”

“Two days ago, when you encountered the black-blooded snake-tailed vultures, you mentioned Black Blood demons.”

“Did we?” Eglok looked to his left; his Dwarf compatriots all shook their heads, indicating they hadn’t discussed it. He then looked to his right; the Elf warriors all nodded. Their sharp ears had caught Angris Windsong and Iluth Moonsong discussing Black Blood.

Graybeard shrugged his broad shoulders indifferently, took a sip of fruit wine, and said, “Black-blooded mongrels are true mongrels… I’m not kidding. The ancient texts record that the demons of the Abyss are all black-blooded mongrels. They slaughter living beings, devour flesh and blood, and then grow stronger… In the distant Dark Age, the stinking High Goblins helped the demons of the Abyss invade the material plane. The Black Blood of the Serpent of Chaos flows in their veins, but compared to the intelligent races of that era, the Black Blood demons were very weak… You have to understand, the Dwarves of the Dark Age were four-meter-tall Sons of the Hills who wielded the power of fire and lightning; the Elf warriors were three-meter-tall Ancient Moon Elves who commanded the forces of water, wind, and nature; even the Ancient Halflings who had just appeared in the world were terrifying assassins. The Black Blood demons had no advantage whatsoever against the ancient Elven Empire, but they would change their form after eating their victims, allowing them to mimic part of their victims’ bloodline powers… The more they killed, the more they ate; the more they ate, the stronger they became. That’s what these black-blooded mongrels are.”

A thought struck Victor. He asked in a low voice, “Like Biological Aberrations?”

“Not exactly.” Eglok shook his head. “Biological Aberrations have unstable forms, only instinct and no wisdom, and short lifespans. But black-blooded mongrels can live for a very long time, and they have wisdom. As long as they eat a clever brain, they become clever, and eating a stupid brain later won’t make them stupid.”

“I heard that black-blooded mongrels have been spotted in the forests near Aylanta, but there aren’t many of them. The Silverymoon Council in Aylanta has already taken measures. As long as the black-blooded mongrels aren’t given time to grow, everything will be fine.”

Victor pondered for a moment, then pressed, “Do you think those black-blooded snake-tailed vultures are demons?”

“I don’t think so. If they were demons, in this ancient forest with no rivals, they would have become very powerful demons by now.” Eglok Graybeard muttered, “They look more like undead, but naturally occurring undead only have a fleeting will… I don’t understand how they became like this. I’m guessing there’s definitely danger waiting for us at the Asoerta Temple ruins.”

Victor’s mind raced, connecting many dots in an instant. The King of the Spirit Realm was once exiled to the Abyss by the Ancient Behemoths. Perhaps he was tainted by the demonic Black Blood, or perhaps he actively sought the mysteries of the Chaos Giant Serpent’s Black Blood. And looking at the characteristics of Black Blood, the demon’s Black Blood bore similarities to the extremely broad bloodline transformations of primordial humans.

Could it be that the origin of the primordial human Bloodline Law came from the Serpent of Chaos, Kapotis?

If this hypothesis held, it could explain why the demons of the Abyss targeted the ancient Alchemical Empire, and it could also explain the cause of the Wizard’s Blood Sacrifice War.

Although the divine race of the Bird of Light was still shrouded in mist, unable to be fitted into the knowledge jigsaw puzzle Victor was constructing, following this train of thought about Black Blood, he suddenly realized that the Ant-man Empress’s goal might not be to seize the Elemental Rune Crystal of Alchemy Tower No. 7, but demonization!

The laws of the Taelon World were tightening, not allowing overly powerful beings to appear within the world. At its root, this was a problem of adapting to the world’s laws, and the demon’s Black Blood possessed this adaptive property. If the Ant-man Empress merely integrated with the Alchemy Tower’s Elemental Rune Crystal, she would still be unable to escape the shackles of the Alchemical Empire. But if the Ant-man race underwent demonization, they would gain true freedom, and the Ant-man Empress would inherit the legacy of the King of the Spirit Realm, becoming an existence akin to an Ancient God.

No, the ancient Alchemist’s memory crystal stated that the Bird of Light’s divine race had once severely wounded a demon sovereign, shattering and purifying his Soul Fire. The sundered Soul Fire of the demon sovereign was very likely the source of the Alchemy Towers’ Soul Fires… If so, a demonized Ant-man Empress fusing with the Alchemy Tower’s Elemental Rune Crystal would be tantamount to stealing the demon sovereign’s power… Or rather, that demon sovereign was about to be resurrected?!

Victor stood up, his expression profound, betraying not a hint of his inner turmoil. “I plan to rest. I’ll be leaving at dawn tomorrow to track those other races of humans. You can stay here, or you can come with me… Think it over carefully.”

Iluth Moonsong also rose to her feet and said decisively, “My lord Nightingale, we have already discussed it. We will set out with you tomorrow… Moreover, you have the right to contribute to decisions about our actions. So, we’ll be companions?”

Victor’s gaze swept over every Elf warrior, every Dwarf guard, and the Halfling Qiqi. It finally rested on Iluth Moonsong’s face. He smiled slightly, extending a finger to touch her hand. “We are companions.”

Chapter 794: Breath of the Moon Goddess

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Early the next morning, the Silverhawk scouts set off, fully equipped. It was the first few days of the Month of Snow, and countless snowflakes drifted above the forest. The weather was cold, but the layer of snow on the forest floor was not too thick. It had conveniently frozen the muddy ground from the rainy season, making conditions ideal for a forced march.

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The Silverhawk scouts had to climb the distant Asoerta Mountains before heavy snows sealed the passes. Iluth Moonsong was also worried that if they got too close while tracking the human expeditionary force, the scouts’ presence would be exposed. Therefore, she chose a detour, ordering her subordinates on a forced march with the goal of finding a place to camp and rest on the mountain in four days.

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In truth, her worries were unnecessary. The straight-line distance between the abandoned camp and the Asoerta Mountains was over eight hundred kilometers. The Randell Expeditionary Force needed only a day and a night to reach the foot of the mountains. Previously, the expedition had only been covering just over two hundred kilometers a day to replenish their supplies. If they had been on a forced march, they would have shaken off the Silverhawk scouts long ago. By this time, the expeditionary force led by Narsen and Charlotte had already begun their ascent. Even if the Silverhawk scouts marched in a straight line, they wouldn’t be able to catch up.

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However, Iluth’s decision to take a detour confirmed one thing for Victor: the Halfling adventurer could follow the secret trail markers left by other Halflings. With Qiqi, the Silverhawk scouts didn’t have to worry about losing the trail of Bobo and Tiantian’s group.

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Qiqi rode his Ferocious Black Wolf, leading the way at the very front of the party. The Elven warriors were all on foot, using a unique breathing method to conserve their energy. Their steps were light, and they moved at a speed comparable to warhorses, though they could not speak along the way. The short-legged Dwarven guards rode bighorn sheep. Clad in heavy armor, they were ironically the most relaxed, chattering incessantly the entire way. Victor was thus treated to a full display of the Dwarves’ chatterbox nature.

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“Victor, Victor, Victor… Your name is strange. Er, I mean, it sounds strange. I’ll just call you Nightingale.”

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“Nightingale, that rolls off the tongue. It could be the name of a great house someday… By the way, was your original clan called Nightingale Village? Do you have a written language? I mean, can you read? Haha, I bet you can’t… Oh, I’m not laughing at you, I’m happy. Yes, just happy… A great house must have literate members. It doesn’t matter if you can’t read, I can teach you! That’s why I’m laughing so happily! Haha, I can teach the founder of a great house! Praise the Moon Goddess, praise the hills, praise my beard…”

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Victor shot the endlessly chattering Eglok Graybeard a cold look and snapped, “Has anyone ever told you how annoying you are?”

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Eglok patted the thick neck of his bighorn sheep and continued, “This is Dwarven passion! Like the flames in a furnace—it warms the heart, feels like a spring breeze, makes you sweat profusely, sends flames of anger soaring to the heavens… I can understand your frustration, but I will teach you to read…”

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With a grim face, Victor drew a bone arrow and, with a backhand motion, jabbed it into the bighorn sheep’s hind leg. The chatterbox Dwarf was promptly carried away by his mount.

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This tactic of stabbing the sheep’s rear granted Victor’s ears five minutes of peace. Then another Dwarf would take Eglok’s place and run over to chat with Mr. Nightingale.

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The Dwarves loved to boast and show off. Their big mouths were like unlatched doors, spilling out a torrent of words with not a shred of secrecy. Of course, they already considered Mr. Nightingale, with his High Elf bloodline, a companion. Sifting through the worthless nonsense, Victor managed to gain a deeper understanding of the Elven Empire and its city-states from the Dwarves’ ramblings.

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The majority of Silverhawk City’s subjects were Wild Elves, and they were not as refined, elegant, or enamored with nature and art as humans imagined. In fact, over eighty percent of Wild Elves were illiterate, with crude and bellicose temperaments, possessing more courage and valor than human commoners. Victor felt the Wild Elf warriors’ style was close to the fictional Amazon warriors of Earth, delighting in the cruel treatment of prey and enemies. Of course, the ratio of male to female Wild Elves was one to one, and household status was determined by the respective strength of the husband and wife. Every year, during the three months of the Season of Water, unmarried adult Wild Elves would engage in unarmed combat. The contests were not separated by gender; the victors chose their partners, and the defeated were chosen.

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In this, the Wild Elves were very similar to barbarians, whereas humans often came together for love—or at least, they revered romantic love. But Wild Elves only began a love life after marriage; the so-called romantic love of the elves was purely a human fantasy, projecting their own ways onto others. The reason was simple: the physiology of Wild Elves differed from that of humans. They reached adulthood at twenty, and their fertility only became active after marriage. A female Wild Elf conceived once every two years on average. Ordinary humans reached adulthood at fifteen and had almost no reproductive restrictions; once they matured, they would pursue their desired partners in the name of love.

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Compared to the Tree Elves and Moon Elves, Victor paid particular attention to the Wild Elves, who had the largest population base. Their living conditions determined the overall strength of the Elven Empire and could be used for a horizontal comparison with the human kingdoms.

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Wild Elves had longer average lifespans than humans, but a smaller population and greater individual strength than ordinary people. According to the Elven Empire’s life tier standards, Wild Elves were a second-tier intelligent species, comparable to Gnolls; humans could only be considered a first-tier species, on the same tier as Goblins and Fishmen. To be more specific, ordinary Wild Elves were all agile, divine archers, proficient with the 1.7-meter-long elven greatbow. Elite human greatbowmen had to undergo rigorous training, and their marksmanship was not necessarily better than that of an ordinary Wild Elf hunter.

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However, humanity’s life tier had no upper limit. Among every seven thousand people, a Ferocious warrior would naturally emerge, and ordinary warriors could also exhibit traits of the savage state after training in secret arts. For Wild Elves, the proportion who could enter a savage state was pitifully low, so rare it was like finding a phoenix feather or a qilin horn.

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Although the Elven race had strict life tier barriers, the Elven Empire had popularized the Combat Breathing Method and possessed a very complete system for the line of succession of power, which even extended to the elves’ servant clans. The subjects of Silverhawk City might be illiterate, but they had to systematically learn combat breathing methods and combat skills.

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The Mind Bloodline secret art that Victor had created was widely applicable, but due to limitations in divine arts, potions, food, and military equipment, it was almost impossible to make it universal. It was inevitably a privilege of the elite class.

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In terms of civilization, the gap between the two was not a full generation apart, but it was an indisputable fact that the Elven Empire had the upper hand. The weapons used by the Silverhawk scouts were of fine quality. An ordinary refined iron alloy sword, forged and hammered by a Dwarf blacksmith, had a density and toughness higher than human refined iron weaponry. Its armor-piercing, sharpness, and sturdiness were in no way inferior to the Adamantine weapons exclusive to Knights.

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In matters of economy, trade, military, and politics, the Elven Empire adopted a high degree of autonomy for its city-states and villages. Silverhawk City, for example, did not impose mandatory taxes or conscription on its subordinate villages and towns. Since the bottom-level residents did not pay taxes or perform labor service and military service, they lived prosperous lives with disposable private property, which in turn promoted the development of trade in the city-state. The elven city-states used their own minted gold, silver, and copper coins as currency, but the entire currency system of the Elven Empire was based on amber. Prominent families in the autonomous city-states monopolized the market trade; they controlled the shops in the city, and residents from villages and towns had to go through these shops to consume, shop, or sell their products in Silverhawk City. These prominent families also formed caravans to engage in long-distance trade between the various city-states.

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Although the villages and towns of the Elven Empire did not have to pay taxes, they would voluntarily and consciously offer their produce and gold coins to the princess’s council, and pray that the noble Moon shamans would grant them the seeds of the Moon Tree on time to ensure the normal operation of their village’s Moonlight Well. They had no military or labor service, but when the Silverhawk City Council mobilized for war, the autonomous villages and towns would likewise contribute troops and effort.

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The Sun Tree and the Moon Tree were the core of the Elven Empire’s political system. Victor believed that the Elven Empire’s upper echelons didn’t collect taxes or conscript troops simply out of laziness. What angered him was that the elven city-states could effortlessly absorb outstanding talents while doing nothing.

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The elven imperial capital, Aylanta, held a Sun Blessing ceremony every thirty-six years on average, and the younger generation of combat professionals from all city-states wanted to participate in the blessing ceremony hosted by the Elven Empress Regnant. For example, the Silverhawk scouts that Iluth Moonsong had gathered were all young combat professionals from Silverhawk City. If they reclaimed the sacred object of the Moon Goddess and performed a great service for the Elven Empire, once they went to Aylanta to receive the Sun Blessing, more than half of them would choose to remain in Aylanta. By the same token, young combat professionals from elven villages and towns also wanted to join the prominent families of Silverhawk City and receive the blessing of the Moon Tree.

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With talented combat professionals all flowing towards the prominent families of the city-states, the elven villages below them lacked the power to challenge the authority of the city-state councils. In the long run, Aylanta’s influence over the elven city-states, and the city-states’ influence over their subordinate villages, formed a powerful cohesive force. Even though they adopted an almost lazy, highly autonomous policy, not only did it not weaken the Empire’s rule, but it actually reduced the conflicts between the ruling class and the ruled.

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Ultimately, the number of High Elves was too scarce. Silverhawk City had only sixteen adult Moon Elves. They resided at the pinnacle of the city-state’s politics and possessed the most resources, yet each Moon Elf could only give birth to one or two descendants. They had no need to contend for power and gain, nor did they have the energy to manage the villages below. So they simply let them be, too lazy to even collect taxes. The political infighting in the elven city-states was limited to the middle-tier represented by the Tree Elves, and those were minor internal conflicts within the city-state, nothing as intense or sharp as the political struggles in the human kingdoms.

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It was currently unknown just how many city-states and villages the Elven Empire had. Generally speaking, the fertility of the elves and their servant clans was low, population growth was slow, mobility was poor, and the lives of the lower classes were stable and prosperous. Although the Elven Empire’s overall strength far surpassed that of the human kingdoms, they did not possess a strong desire for expansion.

Victor believed that the probability of the Elven Empire posing a threat to the human kingdoms was low, but developing diplomatic relations and concluding a defensive pact with them would be equally difficult.

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However, if the Black blood demons’ target was primordial humans, then the human kingdoms desperately needed the powerful support of the Elven Empire.

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Even for a sacred object as important as “Freya’s Tear,” the Elven Empire had only dispatched a single unofficial scouting party from Silverhawk City to investigate. Given the High Elves’ casual attitude, Victor suspected that even if he washed himself clean, gift-wrapped himself, and sold himself to the elven royal family, he probably wouldn’t be able to push for an alliance between the Elven Empire and the human kingdoms.

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At dusk, the Silverhawk scouts had covered about three hundred kilometers on their forced march. After consulting Victor, Iluth gave the order to make camp and rest. The Elven warriors still had the stamina to fight, but none of them wanted to move another inch. They sat cross-legged on the ground, circulating their breathing methods to recover their strength. The energetic Dwarven guards were responsible for miscellaneous chores and keeping watch. They were skilled at brewing wine and forging iron, but their cooking was average. The dinner consisted of dried meat and sweet soup paired with dry, hard flatbreads. The jokes, boasts, and loud singing were the Dwarves’ complimentary side dishes.

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After they finished their lively dinner, the Elven warriors all climbed into the trees to rest, while the Dwarves took the first half of the night watch. In the second half of the night, Elven warriors took turns relieving the resting Dwarves. Several female War Dancers slipped quietly into the depths of the forest. Two stood guard while the others removed their armor and clothes. Facing the cold night wind, they practiced their War Dancer breathing method with swords in hand upon the snowy ground.

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“Nightingale, you’re not yet an adult, are you?” Iluth Moonsong leaped silently onto a branch, landing beside Victor, and spoke softly.

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Victor was intently observing the War Dancers practicing their breathing method. Without turning his head, he asked, “What are you trying to say?”

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Iluth felt a little deflated. She had wanted to joke with Nightingale like the Dwarves did, but she knew it was impossible for Nightingale to be interested in Wild Elf females. Greater Elves reached adulthood at sixty and only understood love after marrying a Moon Elf. Neither Wild Elves nor Tree Elves could attract the attention of a Greater Elf.

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Iluth estimated that Nightingale was not yet fifty. He was interested in the elves’ combat breathing methods, so she changed the subject. “This is the War Dancer breathing method. It’s best practiced naked under the moonlight. Although there are clouds in the sky, they cannot obstruct the connection between the moon and the elves. They’re all adults, so they must practice separately from their male companions, because none of us are looking for partners right now… For an elf who has had children, the blessing of the Moon Tree or Sun Tree is greatly diminished. We only discuss marriage after we advance to Tree Elf, or even Moon Elf. If we fail to advance, then our only choice is to pick a suitable partner and start a family.”

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“Nightingale, did your clan inherit the Breath of the Moon Goddess?” Iluth could no longer contain her inner longing and finally asked.

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“Breath of the Moon Goddess?” Victor turned his head to study the Wild Elf General with the mismatched eyes. He raised a slender eyebrow and said, “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

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Iluth’s spirits lifted. She said in a low voice, “The great Sun Tree gave birth to the first Moon Elf and the first Greater Elf. Every one of their elven descendants is a Moon Tree, breathing and absorbing the power of the moonlight just as a Moon Tree does. The very first breathing method was passed down by the Moon Goddess Freya. Legend says that an elf who cultivates that breathing method can naturally advance to become a Moon Elf. We all call it the ‘Breath of the Moon Goddess.’”

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“Do you think I have mastered the ‘Breath of the Moon Goddess’?” Victor extended a long, fair finger, tracing it over Iluth’s brow and eyes. His touch was as gentle as the night wind. His palm caressed her rough yet firm, elastic cheek as he asked, “Or is it that any breathing method that allows an elf to advance naturally is the ‘Breath of the Moon Goddess’… What about your breathing method?”

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Nightingale’s gesture was completely natural. As he caressed her cheek, Iluth felt a sense of calm, as if bathed in flawless, bright moonlight. She felt neither the anger of being offended nor the slightest trace of romantic sentiment.

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“Do you want to see the breathing method I created?” she asked earnestly, gazing into Nightingale’s deep, captivating eyes.

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“If you don’t mind… of course,” Victor replied with a calm nod.

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Iluth suddenly had a feeling of absurdity. She was the one offering to show him the mysteries of her breathing method, yet Nightingale adopted the posture of one bestowing a gift, and somehow, it felt perfectly natural.

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The strange thought flashed by, and Moonsong stripped off her clothes and armor without hesitation, revealing her athletic, slender body and the mysterious War Dancer tattoos. Her muscles were well-defined and toned, like a female moon-bladed leopard filled with a powerful beauty.

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Victor really wanted to tell the Wild Elf General that she didn’t actually need to take her clothes off, but since she already had, asking her to put them back on would just be awkward, and it would damage the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s persona.

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Iluth focused on circulating her breathing method. Puffs of white mist spewed from her nostrils, forming small, stable vortexes. It seemed she was only exhaling and not inhaling, but the magic tattoos on the surface of her body faintly pulsed, as if they were living vines breathing the air. She felt a gentle, soothing wind pour into her body through her skin. At first, it followed the rhythm of her breathing, but gradually, that cool wind began to push her breathing rhythm, changing her method.

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With her eyes tightly shut, Iluth could have stopped demonstrating her breathing method, but her psychic intuition told her to seize this precious opportunity. She relaxed her mind and let the ceaseless wind guide her breath. As her breathing method changed, her spirit soared to infinite heights. In the unseen world, she broke through the heavy, dark clouds and saw a flawless, silver moon.

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The silvery moonlight, like a watery mist, used the gentle breeze as a bridge to seep into her body, continuously nourishing her spirit and her bloodline.

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“This is my advance payment to you… You must remember, every elf is a Moon Tree, but not all Moon Trees are the same… The Breath of the Moon Goddess that suits you might be poison to another elf.”

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Nightingale’s voice faded from her ears. Iluth had no time to spare it a thought; her mind was completely immersed in the joy of cultivating the “Breath of the Moon Goddess.”

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Chapter 795: Spare Piece

Iluth meditated until the silver moon had set and the sun was rising, only then awakening from a wondrous state of trance. On the surrounding branches stood fully armed female elf warriors; all the female elves from the scouting party were here, standing guard over General Moonsong. Leaden clouds hung low in the sky, and snowflakes danced through the forest. The elves were all covered in a layer of frost and snow, yet Iluth, who had stood on the treetop half the night without armor, remained completely dry.

Her spirit was equally refreshed and clear. She exhaled a long, thin plume of mist like an arrow, leaped down from the great tree, and took her armor and cloak from her little sister, Iruna Greenleaf. After quickly dressing, she lifted her face, and her eyebrows shed, that pair of thick brows becoming as thin and long as swords. Her coarse, masculine features instantly became soft and delicate.

The Tree Elf Angris Windsong, seeing the change in her friend, couldn’t help but exclaim in astonishment, “Sister, you’ve naturally awakened and voluntarily advanced?”

Thin eyebrows, pointed ears, and long hair are the most distinct external features of the Elves. Regardless of gender or life tier, the vast majority of elves possessed these three traits. Iluth was a rare exception among the Wild Elves. While Wild Elves had thicker hair and eyebrows, they could still maintain the characteristics of long hair and thin brows with simple grooming. Iluth Moonsong, on the other hand, had thick eyebrows and short hair. It was one thing that her hair never grew long, but even after careful grooming, her eyebrows would grow back into thick bushes within two or three days.

Because of this, Iluth had been the subject of much gossip and scorn from her peers in her youth. However, she was exceptionally talented. Her strength and physique far surpassed those of other elves; even the dwarves, renowned for their strength, had to concede defeat to her. With her formidable individual power, Iluth distinguished herself in the Greenleaf Village guard, later creating her own Combat Breathing Method, breaking through the tier restrictions of a War Dancer, and becoming the third-ranked Elven General in Silverhawk City.

It wasn’t until one of her eyes turned from green to blue that Elder Windsong of Silverhawk City proclaimed she would be able to naturally awaken her bloodline’s power and advance on her own to become a Tree Elf. At that time, her eyebrows would shed and become thin, her short hair would grow long, and her coarse features would become soft. Iluth’s good friends all knew about this, so when Angris saw her eyebrows had thinned, she was happy for her, but not particularly surprised.

Even though Iluth knew Nightingale was gone, she couldn’t help but glance around. She saw no sign of him and noticed that her companions seemed to be unaware of the details. She breathed a small sigh of relief, yet also felt a thrill of nervous excitement. She impassively nodded at Angris and smiled calmly. “Let’s go back.”

Upon returning to the camp, the now slender-browed and beautiful Iluth Moonsong immediately became an object of wonder for her comrades. Elves with wind and water affinities were naturally arrogant and aloof. They had long known that General Moonsong could naturally awaken her Tree Elf bloodline, so after some simple congratulations, they dispersed. The dwarves, with their earth and fire element affinities, were naturally enthusiastic. They clamored endlessly around Iluth, commenting that her thinner eyebrows made her look uglier.

In the eyes of the dwarves, of course, only thick eyebrows and thick beards fit their aesthetic. Iluth shooed the dwarves away and casually glanced at the handsome Mr. Nightingale, her heart filled with both fervent hope and trepidation.

Iluth knew that her self-created War Dancer breathing method could lead to her natural advancement, but she couldn’t see the path ahead, nor was she willing to stop at the life tier of a Tree Elf. Becoming a noble Moon Elf was Iluth’s true ambition. Mr. Nightingale, through his unfathomable methods, had helped her modify her War Dancer breathing method. Although it would still take some time for her to completely transform into a green-haired, blue-eyed Tree Elf, the new breathing method had created a close connection between her and the silver moon. This alone made it countless times more brilliant than the method she had created herself.

Whether the new breathing method was the legendary “Breath of the Moon Goddess” was still uncertain, but the power of the silver moon that now filled her body gave Iluth ample confidence. Yet Mr. Nightingale himself was a “short-ears” who also needed the blessing of the Sun Tree. Were there flaws in the new breathing method he provided? Or was he holding something back? These were all questions.

Nightingale had said the new breathing method was his payment in advance. Iluth was sure he must have a motive, but she couldn’t imagine what sort of vortex the powerful and mysterious Mr. Nightingale intended to pull her into. Because of this, she was plagued by insecurity.

Regardless, the truly precious new breathing method was already hers. Even if Mr. Nightingale had only provided a part of the Breath of the Moon Goddess, Iluth would do everything in her power to achieve her goal.

She had never been an elf who gave up easily.

In truth, Iluth’s guess was correct; Victor had indeed held something back. However, she misunderstood what “truly precious” meant.

Victor had been secretly observing Iluth for some time. Coupled with Bobo and Tiantian’s assessment of the Wild Elf General, Victor judged her to be ambitious, with an extraordinary craving for power.

Time could change most things. The elven sacred object from tens of thousands of years ago was merely a tenuous legend, but the Tier 9 Demigod who had passed through Greenleaf Village and annihilated a Goblin Lord with the flip of a hand was very real. The sliver of goodwill He had shown was enough to stir the Wild Elf General into action.

Victor, disguised as the Wanderer Nightingale, approached Iluth to seek cooperation and promised her a reward. His reward was the very breathing method Iluth craved, or more precisely, the Silver Moon Mystic Form from the Mind Bloodline secret art.

As the creator of the Mind Bloodline secret art, Victor believed that the so-called power of the silver moon was simply the power of the elven bloodline. The silver moon in the sky was equivalent to a beacon of faith for the Elves. The moon itself had no subjective consciousness. The elves’ worship of the silver moon and the process of drawing closer to it was an affirmation and pursuit of their own bloodline. The power of the mind generated by this pushed the bloodline to transform, but emotionally and perceptually, they would feel as if they had established a mystical connection with the silver moon.

This perception of the silver moon was rooted in the elven bloodline memory, an unchangeable subconscious belief.

When Victor had cultivated the Silver Moon Secret Art, he too had produced a connection with the silver moon, which was why he always chose to wander the forests at night.

Victor was all too familiar with the elven bloodline. He couldn’t claim that the Silver Moon Mystic Form he created would allow all elves or half-elf nobles to awaken their Moon Elf bloodline, but it could at least increase the chances of success. This was because the Silver Moon Mystic Form was tailor-made for himself and might not be suitable for others.

From the perspective of a Mind’s Dominator, only a secret art that could be popularized could be called “truly precious.” A non-universal one was merely average. The logic was simple: the Mind Bloodline secret art could not do what the Sun Tree could. Victor wasn’t so arrogant as to think he could compare with the Sun God Frey, which was why the Sun Tree was precious. The Silver Moon Mystic Form still had a long way to go.

Iluth’s situation was special. The new breathing method she now possessed was modified by Victor specifically for her. Perhaps Iluth could advance to a Moon Elf with it, but the new method lacked universality.

Victor had not placed any obstacles in the new breathing method. A mere Moon Elf was not worth his effort to do so.

Iluth was a hidden piece on the board Victor had set. The sacred object of the Moon Goddess was something Victor didn’t want to touch at all. If they managed to obtain “Freya’s Tear” on this expedition, he would give it to Iluth Moonsong. In short, Victor hoped that Iluth could enhance her strength and prestige, and gain more of a say in matters within the Elven Empire.

An advanced, warrior-oriented Mind Bloodline secret art could change the political landscape of the human kingdoms, and a Mind Bloodline secret art for the Elves would have the same effect. It was foreseeable that Iluth would study the new breathing method, improve it, and then teach it to her trusted followers. Victor could choose an opportune moment to lend her a hand, thereby increasing her political capital.

By supporting an agent within the Elven Empire, Victor could help the human kingdoms find an opening to re-establish the pact with the Elven Empire and jointly fight against the black blood demons from the Abyss.

Of course, Victor knew this goal would not be easy to achieve. How far Iluth Moonsong could go depended on her own abilities. Victor was simply laying a spare piece. Besides, designing a breathing method tailor-made for an elf was as easy as turning his hand for him; it was far from being something precious.

Three days later, the Halfling adventurer Qiqi led the Silverhawk scouts to the edge of the Asoerta Mountains. The mountain forest was a vast expanse of white, the accumulated snow concealing all traces of birds and beasts. Other than the north-south orientation of the mountain range, even the Silverhawk scouts struggled to discern the details of their surroundings, and they didn’t know if they had lost their target.

“What do you all see over there?” the sharp-eyed Tree Elf Olavi Moonsong said, pointing to a steep mountainside.

Everyone followed his gaze and saw, nailed to the stone cliff, the head of a rock goat. It was covered in frost and snow, visible only as a rough outline, but it could not deceive the extraordinary vision of a Tree Elf.

A Dwarf guard spurred his bighorn sheep. It leaped nimbly up the steep, slippery cliff face as if it were flat ground. The dwarf reached out, pulled the rock goat’s head and the iron spike from the stone, and the bighorn sheep carried him back down the other side of the cliff. The entire process was a single, fluid motion, without the slightest pause.

The dwarf guard’s exquisite riding skills earned him a round of cheers from his companions. Even Victor gave a silent nod of praise.

The goat head and the long iron spike were passed to Iluth Moonsong. The dwarves and the Halfling Qiqi began to discuss it animatedly, mainly to roast the laughably crude craftsmanship of the iron spike. The elves remained silent, but were equally curious as to who had done this, and for what purpose.

“A human expeditionary team did this. Whenever they arrive in an unfamiliar place, they nail the first animal they hunt to a rock or a tree,” Victor said, leaning in to look at the iron spike in Iluth’s hands.

“Ah, Mr. Nightingale, why do the human race do that?” Qiqi asked with great curiosity, squeezing into the circle of elf warriors.

Victor shrugged his shoulders, indicating that Mr. Nightingale did not know, nor was he interested in knowing.

Iluth looked into Victor’s dark eyes and asked seriously, “Lord Nightingale, do you… do you know those humans of another race?”

This question had been weighing on the minds of every Silverhawk scout for a long time. Now that General Moonsong had finally asked, everyone turned to look at the mysterious and handsome Nightingale.

Of course, Victor could not admit his true identity. He was disguised as an elven Wanderer to guard against the Lord of Sorrow and the Ant-man Empress. In a clash between mythological creatures, causing an opponent to misjudge was a major advantage. His identity as a member of the ancient Elven Empire and a half-elf provided Victor with the perfect cover, allowing him to mislead his powerful rivals on the level of the Force of Destiny.

The Dwarf Prophets had the art of prophecy; it was unlikely the Lord of Sorrow and the Ant-man Empress lacked similar divinatory means. Victor didn’t need to worry about the The Randell Expeditionary Force. The alchemical creatures possessed souls of extremely high quality, rendering most Mind Body Wizardry ineffective against them. Narsen and the others were not only protected by Miller’s Great Divination, but also had the Poltanos Secret Art to protect the Will Side of their souls, making the possibility of their minds being spied on by extraordinary creatures very low.

The situation with the Silverhawk scouts was a different matter. If a Silverhawk scout fell into the hands of the Lord of Sorrow, Victor’s grand deception might just work.

Within the material world, no existence could be omniscient and omnipotent. Abilities of a prophetic nature require a clear target. When the Lord of Sorrow and the Ant-man Empress used their prophetic abilities on the Elven Empire, the Raging Wind Sword Saint would become invisible to their perception of destiny.

“I know them, just as I know you,” Nightingale replied calmly.

The Silverhawk scouts all breathed a sigh of relief, their faces breaking into expressions of joy. Although Nightingale’s words didn’t stand up to scrutiny, they felt an instinctive sense of kinship with his High Elf bloodline. Moreover, Mr. Nightingale’s strength was unimaginably powerful, and everyone subconsciously hoped he was on their side.

Victor’s tone shifted. “However, I do know a human Tier 9 Demigod. I do not need to explain the specifics to you, and you are not qualified to know of Him… I will only say this: the moment you learn of Him, He will see you.”

Iluth’s spirits lifted. She asked respectfully, “My lord, is that human Demigod among the human expeditionary team? If you feel it’s inconvenient to say, please consider my question unasked.”

His deep, crystalline eyes swept over everyone present. Victor shook his head and said, “The human expeditionary team is indeed related to him, but he is not among them. But he is one of the chosen of a True God. His authority transcends the limits of time and space to touch the river of fate, and his target is the terrifying monster within the Asoerta Temple… Frankly, I am unwilling to get involved in his affairs, but my target is also in the Asoerta Temple. I do not know your attitude towards the human race, but my advice to you is, do not be hostile to the human expeditionary team ahead.”

After Victor finished speaking, the Silverhawk scouts fell silent for a moment. The howling, cold wind made the atmosphere even more frigid. After a while, the Dwarf Prophet Eglo muttered, “We’re caught up in a fight between demigods… Heh, my friends, just thinking about it is exciting.”

“Haha, like Dragonflame Wine aged for thirty years…”

“And you have to add a frozen fire-pepper! Gulp it down in one go, first your teeth are chattering from the cold, then you can breathe fire from your mouth!”

The dwarves let their imaginations run wild, hooting and hollering. Iluth’s gaze was solemn. Ignoring her clamoring dwarven companions, she whispered to Victor, “Lord Nightingale, Freya’s Tear is a sacred object of the Elven Empire. If the human expeditionary team also wants Freya’s Tear, what should we do?”

Victor smiled and said leisurely, “We’ll play it by ear… Since we’ve come here, we must accept the most dangerous test… and the test has already arrived.”

At that very moment, her sharp psychic intuition sounded an alarm bell. She shot up into a large tree and looked toward the southern skyline of the Asoerta Mountains. In the vast, swirling snow, she saw a small black dot flying towards them. she cried out at once, “Silverhawk scouts, get into the forest! Defensive support formation! Everyone, use the concealment breathing method!”

Chapter 796: Raging Wind Slices the Wings

The Silverhawk scouts were all well-trained combat professionals. At Iluth’s command, they immediately took the most appropriate action. They all vanished into the forest. Qiqi the halfling, riding his Ferocious Black Wolf, guided the dwarves’ bighorn sheep deeper into the woods, trying to leave the danger zone before the enemy arrived. The dwarven guards and elven warriors, under the cover of the great trees’ shadows, concealed themselves completely with thick white cloaks, covering any metallic objects that might reflect light. They then lay down in the snow beneath the trees and activated their stealth breathing method, making not a single sound.

Though the nightingale was an ally, he was not, after all, a combat professional from Silverhawk City. At this moment, other than Iluth Moonsong, no one paid any attention to what Victor was doing. The elven warriors narrowed their eyes to slits, relying on their keen hearing to sense any movement around them. Before long, they heard the sound of flapping wings, which arrived with the dull roar of thunder. The wind pressure generated by the beating wings bent the tall, straight red pines, and the snow on the branches was violently swept into the air by the fierce currents.

There was no need to see the approaching enemy; the astonishing commotion alone was enough to make every Silverhawk scout inwardly horrified. Fortunately, they were masters of the stealth breathing method, and even with their hearts pounding, they could maintain a state of absolute calm, blending in with their surroundings without giving themselves away.

Fearing they would attract the flying monster’s attention, they remained motionless in the snow under the cover of the trees. They didn’t move until the monster had passed over their hiding spot and flown deeper into the forest. Some time later, when General Moonsong gave the signal to emerge from hiding, they rose to their feet and each found an observation point, trying to get a clear look at the monster.

The nimble-fingered elves leaped directly to the treetops, while the dwarven guards made use of their Son of the Hills heritage and ran to a cliff to watch. By now, the monster was already more than forty kilometers away. Even the elven War Dancers couldn’t see it clearly, but they could still make out that it had leathery wings spanning over thirty meters. Each flap of its wings seemed slow, but its flight speed was in fact astonishing. And it was flying in the exact direction Qiqi had taken with the bighorn sheep.

“Moon Goddess above, could that be a legendary dragon?”

“It doesn’t look like it has a tail…”

“Damn it, it’s chasing Qiqi!”

“Qiqi’s small and smart, he’ll be fine… Could it be hunting our bighorn sheep?”

“Haha! The sheep are running under the trees. A monster that big would be turned into a porcupine by the red pines if it tried to dive into the forest, wouldn’t it?”

As the dwarves were talking, they saw the behemoth fold its leathery wings in mid-air, curling into a large ball, and plummet straight down into the dense forest.

A deafening crash, accompanied by the sound of ancient trees snapping, sent shockwaves blasting in all directions. The very earth trembled. The sheer force was terrifying.

The red pines in this forest had been growing for over a century, their trunks gnarled and tough, yet they could not withstand the giant beast’s aerial assault. It smashed a huge crater into the primeval forest. One could only imagine the fate of the bighorn sheep below.

The dwarven warriors, known for their fiery tempers, now stared blankly at the ruined forest in the distance, their faces pale, utterly speechless.

The giant flying beast had landed in the forest dozens of kilometers away, and even from her perch atop a tree, Iluth Moonsong could no longer see it. Her expression was exceptionally grave, her mismatched eyes fixed on that area without blinking. Gradually, the giant beast hidden in the primeval forest began to move again. Ancient trees thick enough to require two or three people to encircle them snapped like wheat straw, and the flying snow marked a path leading toward the Asoerta Mountains.

This frightening display confirmed two things for Iluth. First, the flying monster possessed immense strength and an exceptionally tough body; the gnarled, ancient trees were fragile before it. Generally, giant monsters with powerful bodies also had excellent elemental resistance. Coupled with its enormous size, the Tree Elves’ wind elemental shots would likely be ineffective against it. Second, the behemoth was incredibly heavy. It couldn’t take off from the ground and could only climb a high cliff to glide on the upper air currents.

If this monster truly couldn’t fly from the ground, the elven warriors among the Silverhawk scouts had a chance to kill it by using the forest terrain to their advantage. Looked at another way, a monster of this level was often a lord-class creature. If they didn’t kill it now, once it crawled back to the heights of the Asoerta Mountains and was able to fly and patrol its forested territory, it would pose a severe, almost insurmountable threat to the Silverhawk scouts’ future operations.

However, Iluth Moonsong never fought a battle she wasn’t sure of winning. Lord-class monsters always had some extraordinary abilities, and it was still unknown what extraordinary talents this bat-like monster possessed. Moreover, Iluth had a question: she and the Tier 7 Mr. Nightingale could definitely kill the grounded flying behemoth together. Could it be that this lord-class monster lacked psychic intuition and was unaware of this danger? Or was it so powerful that it simply didn’t care about the Silverhawk scouts and Mr. Nightingale?

Iluth leaned toward the latter—that the monster was powerful enough to be unafraid of the threat she and Mr. Nightingale posed. Fortunately, the monster’s crawling speed in the forest was relatively slow, giving the Silverhawk scouts enough time to evade an attack.

“Anglise, take your people and move south, staying clear of the monster’s path. Find a secluded spot and apply silverlight potion to your weapons. Then, prepare for battle, but do not reveal yourselves without my command,” Iluth quickly instructed her aide.

The Tree Elf Wind Walk Archer nodded and asked worriedly, “I wonder how Qiqi is doing?”

“He’s fine… I can feel that he’s still alive,” Iluth Moonsong said with conviction.

Anglise let out a small sigh of relief, then frowned again. “Are you really planning to fight a monster like this?”

“I have no such intention,” Iluth said with a grin, a hint of excitement in her voice. “Don’t forget, the decision rests in Lord Nightingale’s hands. He just said that this is a test for us.”

At that moment, not only the halfling Qiqi but also the mysterious Mr. Nightingale were unaccounted for. Anglise nodded. “Understood. I’ll go and prepare for battle now.”

The Wind Walk Archer Anglise led the Silverhawk scouts south along the mountain range, moving into the forest. Iluth remained in the treetops to observe the giant beast’s movements. If necessary, she could also draw the monster’s attention, luring it elsewhere to allow her comrades to escape danger. As the third-ranked general of Silverhawk City, she was fully confident in her own abilities. Even if she couldn’t harm the behemoth, she was certain she could escape safely. But the choice lay with Nightingale. Only if Nightingale launched an attack would she make a decision to fight based on the situation.

The giant beast’s path back to the cliffs did not align with Iluth’s hiding spot. As it neared a sparser section of the forest, Iluth got a clear view of its entire form.

It was a colossal bat, fourteen meters long, with an armored bighorn sheep dangling from its fang-filled mouth. It had no forelimbs, crawling through the forest on its hind legs and the hooked claws at the front of its leathery wings. Those wings were covered in shiny black scales, acting like sturdy shields protecting its flanks. Most striking were the pale flames dancing in its eye sockets. As it crawled forward, its wings acted like great, sharp axes, easily snapping any trees in its way. Its prostrate advance made it look like a demon stepping out of a mythological world.

However, its body was covered in wounds. Its head appeared to have been scorched by intense flames, exposing its crystalline skull to the cold air. The black flesh around the wound was writhing and healing. Judging by its visible regeneration, Iluth suspected its entire head had once been melted by fire. Its leathery wings, which could easily destroy ancient trees, were mostly intact, but two metal javelins were embedded in them, indicating that someone had pierced through their tough, scaly hide. Projectiles of that power were comparable to a war ballista built by dwarven craftsmen.

Iluth thought of that human expeditionary team. Only they could have inflicted such heavy damage on this terrifying Black Blood undead, forcing it to fly into the forest to hunt bighorn sheep to replenish its flesh and blood.

A colossal undead of the Black Blood demon type didn’t need any special extraordinary abilities. Its body, over ten meters long and weighing several tons, along with its lack of vital points, was enough to crush any of the smaller intelligent races.

Even the silverlight potion of the human expeditionary team would have little effect on such a massive undead creature, unless its head was completely severed from its body to render it inert. Otherwise, if it was heavily wounded and wanted to flee, almost no one could stop it.

The fact that the Black Blood undead had flown here to hunt the Silverhawk scouts’ bighorn sheep indicated that while the human expeditionary team had driven it off, they had failed to destroy it.

The human team is so strong they could even defeat an undead creature of this level. I wonder how many casualties they suffered… Iluth mused. She felt troubled. The human expeditionary team couldn’t finish it, and she likewise had no confidence in her ability to decapitate the Black Blood undead. As the ever-victorious general of Silverhawk City, Iluth would never include Mr. Nightingale’s combat power in her own calculations. But if she didn’t deal with the undead creature now, once it finished healing and returned to its home ground in the Asoerta Mountains, it could inflict heavy losses on both the Silverhawk scouts and the human expeditionary team with its dive-bomb attacks alone.

Iluth’s assessment was largely correct. The moment Victor saw the monster, he knew it was the ancient species bat undead that had appeared in Imosen’s vision.

Two afternoons ago, Victor had sensed the Randall Expeditionary Force’s skirmish through his mental link with his dragonkin handmaidens. He didn’t know the specifics of the battle, but he had felt that both the red dragonkin handmaiden Alexia and the green dragonkin handmaiden Daphdilier had not only transformed into their Dragon-form but had also used their Dragon’s Rage talent.

Evidently, Dili had used her Frost Breath to slow the undead bat’s movement, while Laila’s Dragon’s Flame Breath had continuously blasted its head, melting the flesh and blood from its skull. As for the javelins in its wings, that was likely Caligula’s handiwork; he could throw a javelin with the destructive force of a medium ballista.

Meanwhile, Father Dayn had cast High Heroism Art on at least two of the dragonkin handmaidens. The dragonkin, who possessed a deep fire of the mind, could fully utilize their own abilities. The strength and agility boosts from Heroism Art were ineffective on them, but the divine art of Valor could enhance their mental resistance, protecting them from the negative emotions induced by mind-affecting spells.

Victor had sensed the divine mental art cast on his dragonkin handmaidens, and he also sensed the giant undead bat unleashing its Gaze of Despair on them. The protection from the High Heroism Art weakened the effect of the Gaze of Despair, and the portion that did hit the dragonkin’s minds had no effect at all.

The Will Side of an alchemical creature’s soul simply did not possess negative emotions like despair, fear, weakness, sloth, or chaos. They were completely immune to negative mind-affecting spells.

From this, he could deduce that the Black Blood bat undead did not possess the truly terrifying extraordinary talents of an ancient species. However, it did possess a high-intensity Gaze of Despair, the property of having no vital points, an extraordinary physique, elemental resistance, and the ability to self-heal through consumption.

An undead monster that relied mainly on physical combat and mental damage posed no threat to Victor, but it was a claw and spy of the “Black Blood Sovereign.” The skirmish between Charlotte, Dayn, and Imosen’s team and the bat undead meant they had likely been exposed to the “Black Blood Sovereign’s” sight. What Victor had to do now was to shift the “Black Blood Sovereign’s” attention to the Elven Empire.

Victor leaped from the treetops, flying through the air like a tangible yet formless specter. In an instant, he was directly above the ancient species Black Blood undead. The undead creature possessed intelligence. It snapped its head up, the pale flames in its eye sockets shining on the assailant from above, preparing to use its Gaze of Despair on Victor.

Of course, this had no effect on a Raging Wind Sword Saint with a Spirit attribute of 45. He switched from Body of Gossamer to Body of Bedrock. The surging air opened a downward path for him. Mimicking the way the undead bat had hunted the bighorn sheep, he fell straight down. His bearskin war boots stomped on the undead’s head. A majestic, unstoppable force erupted. While not as dramatic as the bat’s bombardment of the forest, he was like a steel spike driving the monster’s huge, hideous head into the dirt.

Undead creatures are silent and never roar, but the pale flames in the ancient bat undead’s eye sockets flickered wildly from the penetrating force.

However, the undead was immune to stun and daze effects, and Victor had no intention of trying to knock it out. But as the bat undead was stomped down, it instinctively unleashed its power, trying to straighten up and raise its head against the downward pressure.

Seizing that momentary opening, Victor switched back to the Body of Gossamer, flashed onto the bat’s back, and swung his two bone knives, wreathed in the void wind element, at its two leathery wings.

An ancient species possessed an extraordinarily powerful physique and high elemental resistance. This Black Blood undead had inherited the physical advantages of its kind, and Victor’s Azure Blade struggled to cleave its sturdy, scale-covered wings. He now dearly missed his extraordinary weapon—Soul Rend—which he had entrusted to Mewen.

If he had Soul Rend in hand, Victor was confident he could destroy this ancient species monster in a single blow. At the end of the day, it was not an ancient Dragon, but just an oversized bat.

The bone knives, made from an Ogre Warlord’s leg bones, were certainly no match for a Saron Demon Iron spear, nor were they as tough as the ancient bat’s bones. A full-force chop from Victor would only result in the bone knives breaking, but he didn’t need to switch to Body of Bedrock to unleash his strongest power.

The undead bat was tough-skinned and massive, but to a Raging Wind Sword Saint, it was big but not truly strong, at best on the same level as the two-headed Dragon-Lizard Itugos.

Sylvia had once relied on her elemental perception to discern her opponent’s weakness, subduing the two-headed Dragon-Lizard in two sword strokes. Victor’s Elemental Insight could achieve a similar effect. Although the monster beneath his feet struggled desperately, unwilling to cooperate, his Blind Sense talent was almost like a domain. A flash of insight struck his mind, and through the undead bat’s scaly hide, he “saw” the joint in its wing.

Without a shred of hesitation, Victor’s sharp Azure Blade sliced into the joint. The undead bat happened to be forcefully raising its head at that exact moment. Its own terrifying brute force, combined with the armor-piercing sharpness of the Azure Blade, tore the pair of tough, leathery wings clean off.

Iluth watched Mr. Nightingale leap into the air, stomp the monster, and swing his two bone knives, which unleashed two indigo streaks of light before transforming into giant, blackish-green wind blades that severed the undead bat’s most important wings.

The entire assault was as fast as a flash of lightning, dazzling to the eye, yet filled with a fluid, flowing combat aesthetic. The azure-green wind blades sliced through the undead bat’s leathery wings, becoming a surging, unceasing, roaring gale that swept through the snow-covered forest. Amidst the flurry of snow, the enormous bat undead raised its head and stood upright, black blood spraying from its wounds, before it crashed heavily back to the ground. Without the support of its hooked wing-claws, all its fearsome majesty was gone, and it was now reduced to a great, squirming grub.

Holding his twin knives, Nightingale landed gracefully on the branch of a large tree and made an elegant “please” gesture toward the spectating Iluth Moonsong.

Chapter 797: Repositioning

“The silver moon hangs high, the evening wind is cool.”

“The babbling stream softly sings; to dance with you tonight, my heart rejoices.”

“The silver moon hangs high, the night orchid blooms.”

“A faint floral scent lingers; to part with you tonight, my heart is filled with sorrow.”

“Moonlight illuminates the tranquil forest, a white deer walks beside you. Where will you go?”

“My companion, take my blessings with you. You journey far, while I remain at home…”

“The silver moon hangs high, like a dream, an illusion.”

“My companion, take my thoughts with you. I am at home, but where are you?”

The familiar ballad flowed like a warm spring into Iruna Greenleaf’s ears, seeping into her soul. Its gentle comfort roused her from the darkness. She smelled a strange tobacco fragrance and couldn’t help but take a deep breath, only to be sent into a fit of coughing by the smoke. She opened her emerald eyes to see the Halfling Qiqi’s adorable, round face. Then, several other large, bearded faces leaned in, laughing heartily.

“She’s awake! Haha, General Fine-Brows, your little sister is awake!”

“Hey, Iruna needs some quiet right now.”

The Halfling Qiqi shooed away the rowdy Dwarves, then supported the Wild Elf’s head and asked with concern, “Iruna, Iruna… do you know who I am?”

“You smelly Qiqi…”

Iruna’s eyes focused, and she cursed softly, her voice so weak it startled even her. She composed herself and realised she was lying in a simple shed. “What… what happened to me?” she asked, groggy and confused.

“You’re fine. You just need a cup of sweet water brewed with Moonlight Tree leaves.” The Halfling picked up a small wooden cup from beside him, filled with a green liquid. Supporting the Wild Elf’s head, he brought the cup to her lips.

Iruna sipped the liquid. A cool sensation spread throughout her body with the green fluid, as if her entire being, inside and out, was being nourished by moonlight. After finishing the cup, Iruna Greenleaf’s fatigue vanished. She felt refreshed, her thoughts becoming clear and sharp as she recalled what had happened.

Previously, the Silverhawk scouts had received General Moonsong’s order. Iruna and her companions had charged onto the scene to attack the Black Blood demon-species undead. Although the nightingale had severed the monster’s wings, robbing it of most of its mobility and forcing it to crawl on its hind legs, its body was enormous and had no vital points. It stubbornly refused to die, enduring the arrows and javelins of the Silverhawk scouts. Fortunately, the weapons coated with silverlight potions had a decent effect on the Black Blood undead, acting like a corrosive poison that caused large areas of its flesh to wither. When enough of these wounds accumulated, the massive undead monster completely lost its ability to move, lying helpless on the snow, at their mercy.

Iruna and her companions had moved in, intending to dismember it with their melee weapons. Just then, General Moonsong had shouted a warning, ordering the Silverhawk scouts to retreat and maintain a distance of one hundred meters from the monster. But it was too late. A few reckless Silverhawk scouts were at the forefront, Iruna Greenleaf among them. She had seen the pale flames in the undead’s eyes, and then, inexplicably, her perception was stripped away and her mind dominated by despair. Her consciousness had finally plunged into a narrow, oppressive world of darkness.

It was the Halfling’s extraordinary song and the scent of tobacco concocted by the Dwarf Prophet that had pulled Iruna’s consciousness back from the darkness. She vaguely remembered that her sister had also charged the undead monster at the time, so she asked worriedly, “How is Iluth Moonsong?”

“Iluth is perfectly fine… Weren’t Greybeard and the others just shouting, ‘General Fine-Brows, your little sister is awake’? They’ve probably gone to take credit with the General now.” Qiqi explained with animated gestures, “You don’t know! General Moonsong charged up to chop off the undead monster’s head, but its bones were too tough, and even her bladed spear couldn’t do anything to it. The undead meat-worm thrashed about wildly, trying to throw the General off its neck and hit her with its Despair Gaze. Anglise seized the chance to shoot through the giant undead bat’s left eye, but then she got hit by the Despair Gaze herself and was frozen on the spot. At the most critical moment, it was the brave and clever Qiqi who called on the Dragon Hunter Dwarf, Yudrit, and had him use a dragon-hunting javelin to blind the bat undead’s other eye… uh, blind it temporarily… Anyway, General Moonsong successfully cut off the giant undead bat’s neck.”

“The terrifying Black Blood undead is finished… Of course, it’s an undead, so it already died once. What we did was put it to eternal sleep. So, Qiqi came up with another great idea: have everyone dig a great big pit and toss the great big bat head inside, then burn it.”

Iruna blinked and pressed, “Did it… did it find eternal sleep?”

The Halfling clasped his hands behind his back and paced around the hut with a self-important air. “Yes, it’s eternally resting, dead for good. It will never harm Elves, Dwarves, or Halflings again. Oh, and those poor bighorn sheep. But they died for a worthy cause. I will sing a dirge for them.”

Iruna let out a long sigh of relief and nodded. “So, aside from a few bighorn sheep, everyone else is all right? I hope the Dwarves aren’t too upset.”

“Iruna Greenleaf is a kind-hearted, long-eared elf,” the Halfling praised the Wild Elf, then added, “Don’t you worry. Those bad-tempered Dwarves have no time to be sad right now. They’re arguing about getting a bigger share of the giant undead bat’s bones and hide… Greybeard said the flesh is useless, but its bones and hide are top-tier extraordinary materials. Qiqi went to see too. The bat’s hide and bones have these beautiful, natural patterns on them. They have an affinity for the wind element, and they’re especially pliable, even tougher than the pattern-welded steel forged by a Dwarf master blacksmith.”

Iruna’s pointed ears twitched as the Halfling spoke. She couldn’t help but ask, “Is there a share of the war trophy for me?”

“Of course there’s a war trophy for you. But the most precious and complete pair of giant bat wings belongs to Mr. Nightingale. He was the one who severed the bat undead’s wings. Otherwise, we never would have had a chance to eliminate that horrible monster.”

Iruna got up, ducked out of the shanty, and said without looking back, “What are we waiting for then? Let’s go see the war trophies now!”

It was no wonder Iruna was so eager. She was the last of the wounded to be revived. By the time she reached the site where they were butchering the undead bat, the most valuable extraordinary materials would have already been picked over by others. She would have to argue with her companions for her rights, or the scattered leftovers would likely be insufficient to make a single set of high-quality leather armor. After all, the silverlight potion had corroded the undead bat’s membrane and flesh; although the monster was large, there weren’t many pieces of intact hide to be had.

In truth, the biological materials from the ancient species bat could be considered a “peerless treasure.” As the laws of the world grew more stringent, massive ancient species had essentially gone extinct, while modern creatures showcased the diversity of the world’s laws. Take bats, for example. The human kingdoms had recorded over three thousand species of bats, the largest of which had a wingspan of no more than three meters. This ancient species of Black Blood bat, however, had a wingspan of thirty meters and weighed nearly six tons.

How did such a heavy behemoth fly?

Through the Dwarf Prophet’s analysis of the undead bat’s bones and membranes, Victor glimpsed the true power of ancient species.

This great bat’s hide and bones possessed naturally formed, peculiar patterns and had an affinity for the wind element. Compared to the Ogre Warlord’s bones, its bones were more flexible, yet their density was only half that of the Ogre Warlord’s. Victor could imagine that in ancient times, the great bat flew at high speeds using the wind element and must have possessed wind-related talent powers. If ancient species bats could still command the wind element in this era, they would be akin to a natural disaster to other life forms.

The laws of the Taelon World had evolved and no longer supported the innate extraordinary talents of the ancient species bat. That was why this Black Blood undead creature flew so slowly, even needing the specific terrain of a cliff to take off. Ancient species that could not adapt to the changes in the world’s laws were destined for extinction. Ultimately, the Creator no longer had need of them.

However, the bat undead retained the physical characteristics of an ancient species. Its membranes and bones were top-tier extraordinary materials. The scaly hide of its two fleshy wings, in particular, was a priceless treasure, and it was sufficiently intact. After tanning and processing, it would be enough to make a dozen sets of full-body scale armor.

The Silverhawk scouts gleefully processed the bat undead’s bones and hide. They discussed the uses for the materials while jokingly bickering over how to divide the spoils. Even the aloof Elves would argue a bit with the chatterbox Dwarves. Although the Silverhawk scouts coveted the complete pair of bat wings, they didn’t dare to harbor any designs on Mr. Nightingale’s prize.

Compared to the valuable biological materials, Victor was more interested in the information hidden behind them.

This colossal undead creature possessed the characteristics of a Black Blood demon, an Undead Creature, and an ancient species, corresponding respectively to the King of the Spirit Realm’s Abyssal authority and undead authority, plus “Freya’s Tear,” which was used to stabilize and enhance its bloodline power.

The undead authority allowed the bat, whose Soul Fire had been extinguished, to reawaken. The Abyssal authority allowed the undead bat to absorb the flesh and blood of animals to gain biological characteristics, transforming from an undead into an Undead Creature, thereby avoiding decay into a mere skeleton. The inheritance from the Moon Goddess stabilized the Undead Creature’s bloodline form and even caused its atavism.

These three types of Law authority formed a closed loop, the fundamental condition for the Undead Creature’s existence. If any of these three conditions were broken, the Undead Creatures in the Asoerta Temple surely couldn’t sustain themselves. But how to break this cycle of Laws was a very thorny problem. Victor currently had no leads on this, and he also had to consider the consequences of destroying the Undead Creatures. He believed that the extraordinary being controlling the Undead Creatures and the Ant-man Empress had already formed a balanced state of mutual restraint. It would be unwise to act rashly without first understanding their relationship.

One thing was certain: Black Blood undead of the ancient species bat’s caliber were extremely rare. If it were considered an alchemical unit, this single unit consumed a very significant amount of the Black Blood Sovereign’s or the Lord of Sorrow’s spiritual power. Furthermore, the Undead Creature’s range of activity was territorial, a fact determined by the domain characteristic of “Freya’s Tear,” with the Sun Tree’s domain and the Moon Tree’s domain as points of reference.

In other words, the Demigod-level Black Blood Sovereign and Lord of Sorrow were both trapped in the Asoerta Mountains. Their only method of escape was demonization—what the Lord of Sorrow referred to as the “perfect body.” From this perspective, Imosen’s Aberration Wizardry for collecting Life and Bloodline Laws held a strong attraction for them. No wonder Father Miller placed such high importance on Imosen and his daughter, Bel.

For the moment, Victor didn’t need to worry about encountering the Ant-man legion in the Asoerta Mountains. Just as the Ant-man army avoided the Moon Tree’s domain, they would likely also avoid the domain of “Freya’s Tear.” But since he had taken “Freya’s Tear,” the situation had become much less clear.

On one hand, it was uncertain whether there were conditions for triggering the domain characteristic of “Freya’s Tear.” On the other hand, with the Asoerta Temple having lost the protection of the domain from “Freya’s Tear,” it was also uncertain whether the Ant-man Empress would seize the opportunity to usurp the authority of the Black Blood Sovereign and the Lord of Sorrow.

All in all, he still lacked information… Victor mused, his pair of straight, slender eyebrows knitting together.

“My lord Nightingale, it may take us another ten days to process these materials.” Iluth Moonsong, standing beside Victor, misunderstood his expression, thinking he was growing impatient, and explained softly.

Victor nodded, following her tone. “Time is what we lack right now… This giant bat undead was special. It wasn’t afraid of the wind and snow and could patrol the skies of the Asoerta Mountains. But I know that the other medium and small-sized Black Blood undead are all hibernating beneath the snow. They can’t move now, but when spring comes and they crawl out from the ground, the Asoerta Mountains will become extremely dangerous.”

“This was the conclusion reached by the Archwizard and high-ranking priest of the human expeditionary team. I overheard their conversation and explained it to you before. Why are you still hesitating to move forward?”

Meeting the nightingale’s sharp gaze, Iluth fell silent for a moment before saying, “Ever since we dealt with the bat undead, I’ve had a feeling… that we’re being watched by some entity. I can sense that it’s dangerous to move forward.”

Victor had the Silverhawk scouts eliminate the bat undead specifically to draw the attention of the Black Blood Sovereign and the Lord of Sorrow. The ancient species bat undead was their claw and informant. Now that it had been killed by the Elven scouts, the strength displayed by the Silverhawk scouts was enough to make them take notice. In that case, they would most likely try to conserve their strength, which would tie their hands when dealing with Imosen’s and Narsen’s teams.

The Silverhawk scouts taking on some of the pressure would be beneficial to the Randell Expeditionary Force’s mission.

Iluth sensing danger meant Victor’s strategy had worked. He said calmly, “The undead naturally has a master. It’s dangerous for us to move forward, but it’s just as dangerous to stay here. If we get too far from the human expeditionary team, it might not be a good thing.”

Iluth pondered for a moment and said, “You’re right… But I find it strange. The legendary adventurer from Silverhawk City, Oakbarrel, once came to the Asoerta Mountains. Although he didn’t get close to the temple ruins, he explored the surrounding ruins of the Yasurta Empire. There are no records of undead creatures in Oakbarrel’s adventure journal.”

Victor’s interest was piqued. He pressed, “When did the adventurer Oakbarrel come to the Asoerta ruins?”

“During the Season of Fire, three hundred and twenty years ago,” Iluth replied. She paused, then said with some embarrassment, “For the specific details, you’ll have to ask Eglok Graybeard. He’s a Dwarf Prophet. He’s read more books than any of us.”

The “any of us” Iluth mentioned clearly included the Wanderer, Nightingale. In the minds of the Silverhawk scouts, the powerful Mr. Nightingale was an out-and-out illiterate.

Victor didn’t mind the Silverhawk scouts’ misconception of him. He asked, “Did Oakbarrel’s journal leave any clues? For instance, the location of the Yasurta Empire ruins, written records—anything that could help solve the mystery?”

Iluth smiled and shook her head. “Halflings are naturally lively and active. They like to run around everywhere, and their adventures don’t have much of a purpose. Oakbarrel’s level of knowledge was actually limited. He’s like Qiqi; you can’t expect him to translate the Azoretta people’s writing. However, the Dwarf Prophet has the ability to decipher unfamiliar texts.”

Victor was secretly overjoyed. He needed more information. Exploring the ruins of the Azoretta people and examining their architecture, artifacts, and writing was another way to gather it.

“You mean, we should search for ruins in the Asoerta Mountains first and have Eglok Graybeard find more clues?”

Iluth nodded and said seriously, “The more clues there are, the more accurate the Dwarf Prophet’s Divination will be. If Greybeard can break through to the fifth tier, he can even perform a ritual to blind the enemy’s mental perception for a time. To be honest, I don’t actually have much faith in Greybeard.”

Victor smiled. “It’s better than doing nothing.”

Iluth believed it would be dangerous to continue following the human expeditionary team, and she wanted to wait a while before advancing. The nightingale’s support for her decision put her much at ease. “Once we’ve finished processing the materials from the bat undead, we’ll first search for the ruins of the Yasurta Empire… Moon Goddess be with us, I hope we find something.”

Victor shook his head. “What time do we have to process the materials from the bat undead? Find a hidden place and bury the materials for now.”

Iluth glanced at her subordinates, who were still making a commotion, and said tactfully, “The Dwarves probably won’t be happy about that.”

The Elf warriors were also reluctant to part with these rare and precious extraordinary materials. Iluth was just passing the buck to the Dwarves. Victor found it rather amusing and said, “That pair of wings—I’ll keep half. The rest will be your payment.”

The Wild Elf General was very decisive. “Alright! I’ll go find a hidden place right now and bury all the war trophies.”

Chapter 798: An Answer

The Silverhawk scouts buried the extraordinary materials in different locations. After setting up hidden markers, they packed their things and prepared to ascend the mountain.

In the previous skirmish, the Dwarves had lost three bighorn sheep. Qiqi and his Ferocious Black Wolf had led the remaining five bighorn sheep back to their temporary camp. Now, the Silverhawk scout squad was left with only five pack animals and half of their supplies. Fortunately, the Undead Creature Bat’s Gaze of Despair did not have a lethal effect. The sixteen-person team had suffered no casualties. Those Silverhawk scouts who had sustained psychic damage were roused one by one after being treated by the Halfling Qiqi and the Prophet Aigelo. They then drank water infused with Moonlight Tree leaves and all fully recovered.

The leaves of the Moonlight Tree were a special kind of divine curio. Every year during the Season of Fire, Priestesses of the Moon Goddess would, according to the proper ritual, personally pick the new leaves of the Moonlight Tree and craft them into amulets. Whatever the holder of an amulet believed it could do, it would do. If they believed it could heal wounds, it would heal wounds. If they believed it could restore physical and mental stamina, it would restore them. If they believed it could enhance a certain physical quality, it could increase the holder’s strength, agility, spirit, perception, and other attributes. It could also be used to exorcise evil, communicate with animals… As long as one ate a Moonlight Tree leaf, the holder could receive the divine enhancement they needed.

“Divine enhancement” was the term used in the human kingdoms; the Silverhawk scouts called it a blessing.

Of course, the Moonlight Tree leaf amulets were only effective for residents of the Elven Empire, including Elves, Dwarves, Halflings, and forest Centaurs. They were a one-time consumable, and the blessing’s effect was equivalent to a low-tier divine art from a human priest, with its potency and duration closely related to the tier of the Moon Goddess shaman who prepared it.

Iluth Moonsong had a close relationship with Silverhawk City’s Fourth Princess, who had prepared many Moonlight Tree leaf amulets for the Silverhawk scouts. Iluth, in turn, gave Victor ten of them. In the Silverhawk scouts’ view, although the Nightingale came from a clan of Wanderers, he still had elven blood flowing in him and was a Son of the Moon Goddess, so the amulets should work for him as well.

Unfortunately, Victor had no faith in the Moon Goddess Freya, lacking the basic prerequisite to activate the Moonlight Tree leaf amulets. But he still happily accepted Iluth’s kind gesture.

It was now mid-Snowmonth. Snowflakes the size of a child’s palm drifted down, draping the Endless Forest in a silver mantle. In another ten days, the majestic Asoerta Mountains would also be sealed by heavy snow. For now, large patches of its rugged, steep terrain were still exposed, providing reference points for the Silverhawk scouts’ ascent. If they waited until the snow sealed the mountains, burying every gully and stream from sight, navigating a path up would not only be difficult but also risk triggering an avalanche.

Asoerta was the steepest and most perilous mountain range Victor had ever seen. Sheer cliffs with drops of seven or eight hundred meters were a common sight. The treacherous mountain terrain was no obstacle for the bighorn sheep, and even less so for the Dwarven guards who possessed Hill Giant blood. They were stout and sturdy in appearance, yet seemed to have roots growing from their feet, crossing mountains as if walking on level ground. They also seemed to have a natural talent for choosing paths, making the climb as easy and carefree as returning home. In contrast, the agile Elven warriors found climbing more difficult, sometimes having to use both their hands and feet, which drew hearty laughs from the Dwarves.

The subordinates Iluth had chosen were all mid-tier combat professionals. Even if the Elven warriors were not as adept at mountain travel as the Dwarves, it didn’t take them long to ascend the Asoerta Mountains.

The terrain on the mountain was relatively flat, but the temperature was frighteningly cold. A bitter, icy wind, mixed with snowflakes, felt like a knife’s edge against their faces. The Elven warriors all fastened their cold-resistant cloaks, pulling up their hoods and scarves, leaving only their eyes and long ears exposed. Victor stared with great interest at the long ears of a Tree Elf, watching as the pair of delicate, fair, pointed ears slowly turned red. He also heard her heartbeat quicken and her breathing become unsteady, only then realizing his curiosity was making the female elf feel utterly bewildered, shy, and uneasy.

He touched his nose to cover his embarrassment and asked, as if nothing had happened, “Don’t your ears get cold being left out like that?”

The beautiful female Tree Elf’s body visibly stiffened. She turned to look at the Nightingale’s curious expression and said woodenly, “No.”

With that, she darted forward, covering more than ten meters in a single bound and leaving Victor with a view of her graceful back.

Just then, Olavi Moonsong walked over to Victor’s side and mouthed to him, “You were staring at Mag Moonshadow’s ears. She got shy… That’s a sign of courtship to another elf.”

Victor shrugged and said decisively, “I’ve been wandering alone since I was very young. I’ve never met any of my elven kin.”

“That must have been very difficult…” Seeing that Mr. Nightingale didn’t wish to elaborate, the Tree Elf asked with envy, “I see you’ve been maintaining Wind Walk the whole time, unaffected by the cold wind. Doesn’t that consume your vigor?”

Victor turned his head and said, “Maintaining Wind Walk is as easy for me as breathing… Don’t the Moon Elves and Greater Elves of Silverhawk City have this ability?”

Olavi shook her head. “Neither of the two Greater Elves in Silverhawk City are above Tier 5, and the Moon Elves are also Tier 5. Like my sister, Anya Moonsong. She’s the Fourth Princess of Silverhawk City, a Tier 5 Moon Goddess Shaman, a Tier 5 Wind Walk Archer, and a Tier 4 Wind Dancer… Maintaining Wind Walk is much easier for her than for me, but even she can’t keep it up indefinitely. In all of Silverhawk City, I’m afraid only Elder Windsong can match Mr. Nightingale’s standard. But Elder Windsong is already 190 years old, while my sister is only in her forties… Like you, she hasn’t come of age yet.”

Is she trying to make me her brother-in-law? Victor complained internally, then asked, “You’re a Tree Elf, but your sister is a Moon Elf?”

Elves who had not come of age would not be moved by the opposite sex, but their minds were not significantly different from adult elves. Olavi Moonsong could see that Mr. Nightingale had a boundless future. Even if he failed to obtain the sacred object of the Elves, Aylanta would be more than happy to let him participate in the Sun Tree’s blessing ceremony. Although Moon Elves had the right to choose Greater Elves as partners, a man as powerful and of such a noble bloodline as the Nightingale reversed that right.

Olavi wanted to win the Nightingale over for the Moonsong great house. It would be best if he could be betrothed to the Fourth Princess. She explained, “Moon Elves and Greater Elves can have at most two descendants, and they usually have one Moon Elf daughter. Half of the Moon Elves in the City-state are Tree Elves who awakened a higher bloodline through the Moonlight Tree’s blessing… In that sense, there’s no difference between my sister and a princess from Aylanta. If you trace our ancestry back, the great elven houses of Silverhawk City all share the royal bloodline of Aylanta.”

The elven royal family was clearly not a single, fixed house. If the Fourth Princess of Silverhawk City participated in Aylanta’s selection of an heir and was fortunate enough to become the first in line to the throne, in a few decades, the Moonsong house would become the royal family. However, the daughter of the Elven Empress, the princess of Aylanta, would naturally have a unique advantage in the selection of the empress’s successor.

The struggle for the throne was never a gentle affair; it was always accompanied by conspiracy and blood.

Victor understood this principle, but the Wanderer Nightingale was not supposed to know the rules of the game of power, so he could ask with fearless ignorance, “Human kingdoms have empresses and emperors… Does the Elven Empire have a Greater Elf emperor?”

Angris Windsong walked over and interjected, “Only a Moon Goddess Shaman can serve as the Empress of the Elven Empire… Greater Elves are too few in number, and they cannot become Moon Goddess Shamans. However, I heard a rumor from Elder Windsong. Her Majesty the Empress of Aylanta has two children. The eldest daughter, Princess Amastasia, has already come of age. Her youngest son, Prince Holimion, is forty-four years old and has not yet come of age. By the time he was twenty-four, he was already a Tier 6 Greater Elf and is deeply doted upon by Her Majesty the Empress.”

“Prince Holimion is Princess Amastasia’s little brother. It’s impossible for them to be together.”

Fearing Mr. Nightingale wouldn’t grasp her meaning, she paused and explained in detail, “The prince and princess are more like competitors… Her Majesty the Empress may hope for Prince Holimion to marry the next empress. In that case, wouldn’t the Elven Prince be like a human ‘Emperor’? If Princess Amastasia wins the right of succession, I’m afraid Prince Holimion would even have to relinquish command of the Forest’s Children Guard. When Her Majesty the Empress selects an heir from among the princesses of the various City-states, one of the conditions is to summon the un-aged Moon Elf princesses. Therefore, in our Silverhawk City, only the Fourth Princess can participate in the selection. Her Majesty is selecting an heir, but she is also selecting a partner for Prince Holimion.”

Angris glanced at the dazed Olavi Moonsong and said with a smile, “Of course, this is just a rumor of uncertain truth.”

According to Angris, if the Fourth Princess of Silverhawk City wanted to compete for the imperial line of succession, then Mr. Nightingale could not become Olavi’s brother-in-law. On the contrary, if Mr. Nightingale coveted the supreme authority of the Elven Empire, he should support Princess Amastasia and marry her.

Unfortunately, Princess Amastasia already had a partner, which Angris Windsong would tell him as soon as Mr. Nightingale asked.

Was there any elf from a great house of a City-state who did not understand politics?

Olavi Moonsong wanted to win the Nightingale over for the Moonsong house, and Angris Windsong likewise had to plan for her own future.

If she didn’t have the desire and confidence to be promoted to a Moon Elf, why would Angris risk her life to follow Iluth to the Asoerta Mountains?

The peerless grace of Mr. Nightingale as he cut down the bat undead convinced Angris that Mr. Nightingale himself was the greatest prize of her journey. Even though he had not yet come of age, and despite the difference in their tiers, Angris Windsong had to try her best to win him over.

She would start by trying to win his friendship. The long-lived elves were always patient.

Victor, however, only gave an “Oh,” and asked nonchalantly, “Which great house is the current empress from?”

Angris fell silent for a moment before replying, “The ‘Viel’ great house of Aylanta… The name is strange, but they have held the empress’s throne for three thousand years. Other families have inherited the throne during that time, but empresses from the Viel house have been more numerous.”

Viel, the nickname of the Spirit Knight Verodica Baselius. Only those closest to her would use her nickname, such as Verodica’s husband—the Sword Saint Draven.

In His Highness Randell’s eyes, the two Tree Elves’ attempts to win over the Nightingale were far too naive, yet he had unexpectedly solved the mystery of the Sword Saint’s disappearance from over three thousand years ago.

Back then, when the Spirit Knight Verodica was on the verge of perishing, she went out with her lover, Draven. In the end, only their attendant returned, reporting that Empress Baselius had perished. Prince Draven, overcome with grief, left a letter for the Baselius family and departed alone, his whereabouts unknown.

The Baselius family claimed His Majesty Draven had gone to the Endless Forest to seek out his elven kin. But a conspiracy theory suggested that Empress Verodica, to ensure the stable succession of the Iron Mountain Empire, had perished together with her Sword Saint husband. This was because the High-ranked Knights of the human kingdoms firmly believed that even a Sun Elf like Sword Saint Draven was unworthy of a Spirit Knight who represented the origin of the world, and that the love between Draven and Verodica could not possibly sway the great will of a Spirit Knight.

With the Ironmountain Empress’s demise, no one within the Iron Mountain Empire could restrain Prince Baselius. His and Verodica’s twin children had advanced to Legendary Knight, but he still had five Gold-rank female knight partners, one of whom, Testier, was the Grand Commander of the Radiant Knights. Empress Verodica’s heir could not possibly contend with their Sword Saint father. It was not sentimental, but it was logical, for Verodica to eliminate this future trouble for her family.

Even though the Baselius family produced Draven’s handwritten letter as proof and Testier no longer pursued the matter, the conspiracy theory of the empress’s mariticide spread far and wide. The Radiant Church was always in the shadows, adding fuel to the fire, with the aim of slandering the Spirit Knight.

The papal line was clearly not happy to be on equal footing with the Spirit Knight. Through this conspiracy theory, they emphasized that the Spirit Knight had selfish desires, and from this, they concluded that all High-ranked Knights had selfish desires, and only the Radiant Church could stand on a position of impartiality.

Even if the papal line’s view was true, the conspiracy theory they concocted was deeply poisonous. When Sylvia burst onto the scene, her appeal was far less than Verodica Baselius’s. She guarded the tiny York family and didn’t even intervene in the Centaur war. One could say that both the Church and the Knight-Lords suffered the backlash of the Force of Destiny and paid a painful price for it.

In the near future, the northern human kingdoms might be invaded by Black blood demons. Based on Victor’s understanding of Sylvia, she would one hundred percent conceal this news and first deal with the Ant-man army invading the Centaur Hills.

But for now, it seemed Verodica Baselius had not been so heartless as to kill her husband. Draven had even founded an elven great house using her nickname, which indicated that he hadn’t been completely assimilated by the Sun Elf bloodline’s will and had retained a part of his humanity.

This had to be a gift from the Spirit Knight.

Victor sighed to himself, feeling a particular longing for Sylvia at this moment. He lifted his chin toward a snowy peak in the distance and said, “I’m going up there to check the terrain. You all go on ahead, no need to wait for me. I can find you.”

With a light tap of his feet, a gentle breeze wrapped around his body. With a few leaps, he disappeared behind the undulating mountain ridges.

“Angris, we have to survive first before we can think about other things.”

Iluth Moonsong walked past her friend, whispering this before raising her voice to the Silverhawk scouts, “Let’s move out!”

“General, where are we going now?” the Dwarf Dragon Hunter, Yudrit, turned and shouted loudly.

Anywhere but the ruins of the Asoerta Temple, at least not now… Iluth could still feel the danger emanating from the temple. She muttered this to herself before saying aloud, “First, we’ll look for architectural ruins left by the Azoretta people, and find some food along the way.”

The Dragon Hunter roared with laughter upon hearing this. “Hunting! That’s what I do best… I can already smell mountain goats. Follow me, and I guarantee everyone will have mutton to eat tonight.”

Three days later, in the morning, within a primeval forest on the eastern side of the Asoerta Mountains, two tall, powerfully-built dire wolves with dark fur lay on the snow, gnawing on a forest deer. They were the animal companions tamed by the Halfling Qiqi, left here by their master to establish a territory and prevent thieves like Goblins and Kobolds from digging up the Silverhawk scouts’ war trophies.

Dire wolves were relatively intelligent beasts, ferocious and cunning by nature, with a strong vengeful streak. Their combat prowess wasn’t outstanding, but their endurance was terrifying, making them a particularly troublesome type of dire animal. Because undead creatures roamed near the Asoerta mountain forests, all the powerful beasts and monsters that didn’t know to avoid the area were now dead. Two Ferocious Black Wolves were enough to deter small, sapient beastmen races.

They took turns hunting, preying on the wild deer and boar in the forest, which was a much more relaxing and pleasant task than following their master up the mountain.

Having eaten its fill, one of the Ferocious Black Wolves opened its mouth full of sharp teeth and let out a lazy yawn. It curled into a furry ball next to its companion, preparing to take a nap in the snow.

Suddenly, the black wolf’s ears perked up. It sat up from its snow pit, its green wolf eyes staring toward the east of the forest. They sensed danger coming from that direction, but also a familiar, comforting scent. This contradictory feeling left the two dire animals deeply confused, and they did not immediately flee the scene.

As they hesitated, a slender, agile figure swooped down from above the forest, landing right between the two Ferocious Black Wolves. Before they could turn and pounce, a hand shot out and clamped onto the back of each wolf’s neck, lifting the more than three-hundred-pound giant wolves into the air.

The Ferocious Black Wolves roared and struggled, unleashing strength comparable to a brown bear’s, yet a mere twist of their captor’s wrist rendered them powerless, making them feel weaker than rabbits.

“Prince Holimion, please don’t harm them. These two black wolves are the Halfling Qiqi’s tamed animal companions.”

A gentle voice drifted over, like the soft whisper of wind in one’s ear, making it impossible to pinpoint its source. It carried an indescribable will, as if the speaker was both near and far, one with the wind itself.

“Haha, Elder Sycodis Windsong, please rest assured. I saw the buckled tags on their front legs. I just wanted to tease them a bit.” The newcomer dropped the two Ferocious Black Wolves, his laughter bright, sunny, and unrestrained.

He had long black hair, long ears, and eyes like the purest black pearls. His features were as exquisitely carved as a sculpture. He wore a tight, sleeveless leather armor and a pair of leather greaves that outlined a narrow waist and long legs. His well-defined, toned arms shone with a healthy, wheat-colored glow, and his entire being radiated a vibrant, masculine energy.

The Ferocious Black Wolves couldn’t care less about the strange male elf’s charm. If possible, they would have preferred to bite a few holes in him. Unfortunately, their wild intuition warned them that it was best to stay far away from this individual. The black wolves bolted toward the east side of the forest without a backward glance, only flattening their ears and seeking refuge with the Moon Elf at the head of a troop of Elven Empire warriors they encountered.

That Moon Elf wore magnificent silver battle armor. Her beauty was unparalleled, her black eyes deep and captivating, and her thin, sword-like eyebrows added a sharp, chilling quality to her appearance. Following behind her was a troop of tall, handsome elves with cold, proud expressions. They were also clad in silver armor, with a sigil of an eye engraved on their pauldrons.

The Eye of the Mysteries, Silverhawk City’s most elite unit. Every member of the Eye of the Mysteries was at least a Tier 3 combat professional, and their Commander was Silverhawk City’s strongest expert—Sycodis Windsong.

To the left of the Eye of the Mysteries was another troop of Wild Elf warriors in golden armor. There were thirty of these elven warriors. They were cold and serious, their firm gazes revealing a powerful will and silent pride. On their pauldrons was the sigil of a griffin.

The upper echelons of the elven City-states had all heard of Aylanta’s “Forest’s Children” unit, but this was the first time Sycodis had seen this force composed of Wild Elf War Dancers. From the sigil on their pauldrons, she could tell this was the core guard of the Viel great house. Sycodis had to admit, they were stronger than Silverhawk City’s Eye of the Mysteries.

Sycodis cast her gaze toward the Greater Elf opposite her and said coolly, “Prince Holimion, you were a bit too rash… We are trailing Iluth Moonsong, and Iluth is trailing the foreign humans. Among those humans is at least one Tier 8 expert.”

“It’s no matter. General Moonsong and her subordinates already went up the mountain four days ago. The foreign humans are even farther from us. If they were capable of discovering us, they would have done so already.” The Elven Prince paused, a confident smile on his face as he said, “Besides, even if they do discover us, we have no reason to fear them, much less to retreat.”

From the depths of the forest, troop after troop of Elven Empire warriors emerged. There were proud Elven greatbow archers; Dwarf heavy cavalry in heavy armor mounted on bighorn sheep; agile Centaur skirmishers; and of course, there was no shortage of beautiful Moon Elf shamans, endlessly curious Halfling adventurers, and Dwarf prophets with braided beards.

“I smell the stench of a Black blood demon again. Ha, and a very powerful one at that. But it’s already dead.”

A resonant voice boomed from the mouth of a dwarf. He had a full beard, a large nose, and a stout, sturdy frame, yet he stood a full three meters tall. If a dwarf exceeded three meters in height, he had to be a Tier 7 Son of the Hills.

Zuknos Greyflame, a Dwarven General from Aylanta, possessed a strength and gravitas that matched his massive frame. His eyes continuously shone with a grey light, as if a raging fire was mixed with the power of thunder. As he walked over, he resembled a lava giant containing infinite power.

Sycodis lowered her gaze slightly, showing respect to the giant dwarf. She had no confidence in defeating him, but a noble Moon Elf did not need to bow her head to any dwarf, even if he was a Son of the Hills.

“I can’t wait to dig that demon’s corpse out from under the snow. A creature of this level is quite a rare type of Black blood demon,” Lord Greyflame shouted with great enthusiasm. In truth, he was speaking in a normal voice, which was no different from the shouting of an ordinary dwarf.

Soon, the remains of the colossal undead Black blood bat were retrieved, pieced together, and laid out on the open snow, restored to its original appearance.

The imposing elites of the Elven Empire fell silent. The giant dwarf cried out in amazement, “A bat demon this big? By the Moon Goddess above and the Hills below, is this monster trying to remind me that I’m actually a little person?”

Prince Holimion gestured at the pair of wings with a thirty-meter span, shaking his head with an excited look in his eyes. “Incredible. Are these a dragon’s wings? Who managed to slice them off so cleanly?”

Sycodis carefully examined the remains of the bat undead, her sword-like brows knitting together. “This is how the Silverhawk City Guard processes creature materials. The demon bat’s head was clearly severed by Iluth Moonsong. Without a doubt, this is General Moonsong’s war trophy.”

The Elven Prince nodded repeatedly. “I know, I know, but isn’t General Iluth Moonsong a Wild Elf War Dancer? The cut on the demon bat’s giant wing is smooth, a clear characteristic of a void wind element slash.”

Sycodis’s rosy lips curved into a smug smile. “General Moonsong created her own War Dancer breathing method. She must have already awakened the power of her bloodline and advanced to a Tree Elf.”

Holimion shook his head in admiration. “This General Moonsong is truly formidable. No wonder she dared to lead her subordinates to track the foreign humans. There must be a Legendary-rank Archwizard among them.”

A thought stirred in Sycodis Windsong’s mind. She pressed, “Legendary? What tier is that?”

The Elven Prince replied, “The power tiers of the foreign humans are different from our combat profession tiers. They are divided into Bronze, Silver, Gold, and Legendary. When that human expeditionary team passed Silverhawk City, the methods they used to annihilate the Goblin Lord were comparable to the might of a Tier 9 Demigod. That was the masterpiece of a human Legendary Archwizard. Human Wizards have all sorts of strange abilities, but most of them are physically weak and require the close protection of human warriors. I estimate that a Wind Walk Archer of Tier 5 or above could threaten that Legendary Archwizard. With General Moonsong’s advancement to a Tree Elf, she can certainly counter a human Wizard. What’s more, we have twenty-eight outstanding Wind Walk Archers here, plus yourself.”

Sycodis said with a displeased tone, “Prince Holimion, the foreign human expedition expressed goodwill toward Silverhawk City. The Silverhawk City Council believes we should not provoke them.”

“Elder Windsong, I am determined to obtain the Moon Goddess’s sacred object. Beyond that, I have no desire to get entangled with the foreign humans, much less provoke them.” Holimion met the sharp gaze of the Tier 7 Wind Walk Archer without backing down. “I understand that Silverhawk City’s location has been exposed, but ‘Freya’s Tear’ is a sacred object belonging to the Elven Empire. We can let it lie quietly in the depths of the Asoerta Mountains, but we will absolutely not allow it to fall into the hands of a human Wizard, because no one knows what a human Wizard would do with a sacred object.”

The Elven Prince paused, then softened his tone. “Of course, Silverhawk City can communicate with the human expedition team first. Aylanta will support any reasonable conditions Silverhawk City proposes. If the human Wizard does not agree to hand over the sacred object, I hope Silverhawk City will stand firmly on the side of the Empire.”

Sycodis thought for a moment, then raised a slender, beautiful hand to her forehead. “By the Moon Goddess, this is my wish as well. The sacred object belongs to the Elven Empire.”

Holimion smiled and nodded, paying his respects to the Chief Moon Elf Elder of Silverhawk City. He turned his head and ordered, “Someone, pack up General Moonsong’s war trophy. We will make camp here and prepare to ascend the mountain tomorrow.”

The air in the forest flowed gently, plucking at Elder Windsong’s heartstrings. She looked quizzically at the Son of the Hills, who had remained silent all this time. The giant dwarf said in a booming, muffled voice, “Someone was just spying on me. For just a split second. I thought it was my imagination. Sycodis, were you being watched too?”

Sycodis’s gaze shot abruptly toward the distant, snow-covered mountains. The omnipresent wind elements responded to her call, transmitting a scene beyond the reach of her sight into her mind.

However, aside from the white snow and dark rock, there was nothing there.

Victor stood on the rocks of a snowy peak, letting the wind elements flow through his body. A satisfied smile rose on his lips as he murmured to himself, “Very good. This level of strength doesn’t disappoint me.”

Chapter 799: The Tomb

On a gentle, snow-covered slope, a dozen plump and sturdy takin pawed through the snow with their sharp hooves, gnawing on the dry grass buried beneath. The winter grass was withered, yellow, and dry, offering little nutrition, but the roots were still sweet and juicy—a favorite snack for the takin. Before the rainy and snowy season had arrived, they had already stored up a thick layer of fat, enough to see them through the entire cold winter.

Wintering on the high-mountain snowfields meant enduring hunger and bitter cold, but it also allowed them to avoid ravenous predators. The takin had lived in these mountains for generations and were intimately familiar with their surroundings.

Today, they encountered a group of uninvited guests.

Elves and a Dwarf appeared not far away. The takin had never seen these strange, upright-walking creatures before. Before their simple, dull minds could even react, a four-fletched long arrow, wreathed in a faint breeze, flew toward them at high speed. Spinning, it struck a female takin in the head. The sharp arrowhead pierced its hard skull, emerging from the other side with a spray of blood.

The female, weighing over five hundred pounds, was killed instantly. The bull takin, the leader of the herd, its eyes burning red with rage, lowered its head and gored the arrow still lodged in the female’s head. After venting for a moment, it turned and charged toward the strange, upright creatures.

The powerful bull charged for several tens of meters before it suddenly seemed to take fright. It wheeled around and led the herd in a panicked retreat.

The red-bearded Dwarf, Yudrit, was greatly disappointed. He lowered the two blade-shields strapped to his arms and complained to Iluth Moonsong, “Hey, my bull! My dinner, it ran away… General Fine-Brows, why’d you scare off the bull? Look how solid its muscles were! It would’ve been tastier than the female.”

Iluth lowered her elven greatbow, exhaled a puff of white mist, and raised her slender eyebrows. “Only Dwarves like old, tough, smelly bull meat. I prefer the tender meat from a female. What, you have a problem with that?”

Yudrit stomped his foot and shouted, “Ha! You think I’m afraid of you? I… I just can’t beat you in a fight.”

“Whether it’s bull meat or cow meat, it all becomes delicious in my hands! Now go get the kill. Even the most capable Halfling gourmet needs assistants for the heavy lifting.” Qiqi popped out from somewhere, directing the Dwarf to haul over the female takin Iluth had shot.

As the Dwarf and Halfling busied themselves with the carcass, Iluth Moonsong turned to Anglise beside her and asked, “How was my Wind Walk Arrow just now?”

Every night, Iluth practiced the breathing method Nightingale had taught her. Although she still had mismatched eyes, after just a few short days, she was already able to call upon the wind element. Anglise had guided her in using the Wind Walk Archer’s breathing method today, and by the afternoon, Iluth had successfully cast a Wind Walk Arrow.

Of course, her Wind Walk Arrow was the most basic form of the technique, far from exceptional. But considering she was a beginner, Anglise was deeply envious of Iluth’s unparalleled combat talent. She nodded and said, “The fourth breath was a little rushed and didn’t connect smoothly with the fifth. It caused the Wind Walk to dissipate prematurely and the arrow didn’t rotate fast enough. Otherwise, that shot would have gone straight through the takin’s skull… Still, you did much better than Olavie when he first started practicing the Wind Walk Arrow.”

Iluth received affirmation from her friend, but she wasn’t entirely satisfied with her Wind Walk Arrow. Stroking the uniquely crafted, art-like elven greatbow, she said regretfully, “This greatbow limits my strength. The dragon-hunting javelins are a better fit for me.”

A Wind Walk Archer could make specially constructed four-fletched arrows rotate at high speeds, increasing the lethality of the Wind Walk Arrow, but its attack power was still somewhat less than a Dwarven dragon-hunting javelin. The advantages of a Wind Walk Archer lay in dexterity, rapid firing, multi-shots, and a large supply of arrows for sustained attacks. In contrast, the dragon-hunting javelins were astonishingly powerful, but they were too heavy and large. A Dwarven Dragon Hunter typically carried only six of them. Once they were thrown, they had to rely on their two blade-shields to engage enemies in close combat.

Iluth Moonsong was exceptionally talented. Her strength was such that even Yudrit, a fourth-rank Dwarven Dragon Hunter, admitted his inferiority. She could indeed wield the dragon-hunting javelins with ease. However, Anglise couldn’t help but feel a little awkward at the thought of a Tree Elf Wind Walk Archer carrying six dragon-hunting javelins on her back. It would just look silly.

Anglise couldn’t be bothered to argue with her dear sister. She gave a noncommittal nod and changed the subject. “We’ve just been hunting and practicing our skills in the mountains these past few days. Aren’t we supposed to be looking for the ruins of the Asoerta people?”

Iluth’s long ears swiveled from side to side as she answered evasively, “Aren’t we looking? The mountains are huge. We just haven’t found anything yet.”

“.…I have.”

Nightingale’s voice drifted on the wind. Iluth’s pointed ears immediately drooped to the sides, an elven gesture of guilt. Anglise was both amused and worried. She rarely saw Iluth act like this. At the same time, she grew anxious, afraid that the noble-blooded Son of the Moon God would be angered by the Silverhawk scouts’ slacking.

Nightingale’s figure appeared on a distant ridge. At first, he was just a small dot, but in the blink of an eye, he was beside the general of Silverhawk City and her capable deputy. He first nodded to the Silverhawk scouts who were saluting him by touching their foreheads, then said faintly, “I’ve found some ruins, just behind the fourteenth hollow to the south.”

Iluth said sheepishly, “Then let’s head over right now.”

Ever since she had decapitated the Bat undead, she had sensed a certain danger. Until that feeling of peril subsided, Iluth was unwilling to lead her subordinates to the Asoerta Temple.

Victor was well aware of this. He was in no position to, nor did he care to, blame Iluth for her passivity. In fact, she hadn’t lied to Nightingale.

The Asoerta Mountains generally ran from north to south, winding for thousands of kilometers. The eastern side of the range was steep and treacherous, while the western slope was relatively gentle, composed of one horseshoe-shaped hollow after another. The overlapping ridges crisscrossed, and ravines rose and fell, creating extremely complex terrain. For the Silverhawk scouts, finding architectural ruins in the Asoerta Mountains was a matter of luck. If their luck was bad, they could wander the mountains for three to five years without necessarily discovering a valuable target. After all, Oakbarrel’s wayfinding staff was in the hands of the Randell Expeditionary Force, and it only recorded the location of the Asoerta Temple, with no information on other ruins. What’s more, the mountains were now sealed by heavy snow, a vast expanse of white. Even Victor couldn’t find ancient ruins buried in snow with his naked eye alone.

…But if one added extraordinary talent, wisdom, and knowledge to the mix, Victor could accomplish what was nearly impossible for others.

Building houses in the mountains still had to follow basic rules. First, a relatively level foundation was needed; if no natural flat ground was available, terraced fields would be built first. Second was a water source; if there was no natural source, an aqueduct or man-made channel would be constructed. These artificial activities would alter the landscape. Standing atop a mountain and gazing into the distance, Victor scanned the area region by region. It didn’t take him long to find five sites of ruins buried under the snow.

As long as it didn’t involve tracking the human expeditionary team right now, Iluth didn’t really care whether they surveyed the Asoerta ruins or not. In any case, Mr. Nightingale wanted to learn more from those ruins, and the Dwarf Prophet Eglok could use the opportunity to decipher the Asoerta people’s writing, enriching his knowledge and experience, which would be greatly beneficial for improving his Divination abilities.

Nightingale was like a powerful and wealthy guest. Iluth longed to be on good terms with him, to rely on his strength and fortune, but she couldn’t rashly entrust her companions’ fate to a guest she barely knew. She cautiously maintained a fragile companionship with Nightingale, wanting neither to provoke him nor to submit to him. Her keen senses told her that Nightingale’s heart was as cold and proud as a vast forest, the cool moonlight, or a towering mountain range; it had the gentleness to sustain life, but also a ruthless, unfeeling side. Meanwhile, her elven companions were already captivated by the charm of his High Elf bloodline, the Dwarf warrior lacked cunning and shrewdness, and as for the Halfling Qiqi—he was a complete turncoat,

Iluth was certain that Mr. Nightingale thought highly of her, but she had no doubt that he would use the Silverhawk scouts as sacrificial pawns if necessary.

However, on the matter of surveying the Asoerta ruins, the two sides had no conflict.

Nightingale led the way, and it took the Silverhawk scouts an entire day to reach the ruins in the mountains. Eglok Graybeard excitedly hopped off his bighorn sheep, stood in the snow looking all around, and boomed in his gruff voice, “By my hills! There’s snow here! White snow, lots of white snow, lots of very cold white snow. But I don’t see any ruins.”

Victor ignored the impatient Dwarf Prophet. He raised his slender, flawless left hand, gathering the wind element, and then pushed a ball of bluish-black airflow toward a snowdrift several tens of meters away. With a piercing sound like tearing silk, the churning gust of air blew away the layer of snow, revealing a cluster of low, stone buildings.

The Dwarf Prophet let out a joyful shout. His stout legs moved quickly, and he charged toward the ancient ruins, now seeing the light of day again, braving the swirling snowflakes. The other Silverhawk scouts gazed at Mr. Nightingale’s left hand with a mixture of awe and envy.

Aside from the Dwarf Prophet who craved new knowledge, the denizens of the Elven Empire weren’t particularly interested in ancient ruins. After all, no civilization was older than their own. It was the extraordinary power Mr. Nightingale displayed that was truly eye-catching. The elven warriors, in particular, felt not only reverence but also an undisguised pride.

The Elven Empire had an ingrained culture of hero worship, and the Son of the Moon God undoubtedly fit the role of a heroic idol for the Elves.

Victor lowered his hand. His previous action had actually been superfluous; as the Raging Wind Sword Saint, he could condense the void wind element at any point within a twenty-seven-kilometer radius with a mere thought. But that would have been far too frightening for the Elves and didn’t fit the persona of Nightingale the Wanderer.

“What are you all staring at me for? Go take a look.”

A hint of displeasure crossed Nightingale’s handsome face, which paradoxically made the young Silverhawk scouts feel a sense of familiarity. They entered the ruins with a boisterous clamor.

It was a cluster of low, ancient buildings constructed from rock and mortar. It wasn’t large, covering an area of about four hundred square meters. The remains were not only severely weathered but also entangled in a mass of withered vines. The architectural style of the ruined walls was primitive and rugged. Faint carvings could be seen on the weathered stone walls—upon close inspection, they were predominantly of some kind of serpent, with a few patterns resembling spider masks. Because the damage was so severe, Victor, applying the principle of symmetrical aesthetics, tried to use the X-3’s image completion function to sketch out the full appearance of the statues and patterns.

The virtual images generated in his mind surprisingly didn’t match the real-world samples. This indicated that the carvings and patterns in the ruins did not follow the principle of symmetry. It meant that the totemic subjects of the Asoerta ruins were not based on natural life forms, or perhaps they weren’t creatures of the material world at all.

After some thought, Victor voiced his confusion to the others. The Elves, Dwarf, and Halfling were all mystified. Thankfully, the Dwarf Prophet was deeply learned. His eyes burning with intensity, he explained, “For now, I’ll attribute these ruins to the Asoerta people… The snake. The Elven Empire has always considered the hideous snake a metaphor for the demons of the Abyss. And the spider represents death, symbolizing the slumber and death incarnation of the Moon Goddess, an image worshipped by the subterranean Dark Elves. The presence of both snakes and spiders here is likely no coincidence. But what’s strange is that the Asoerta people were a surface-dwelling race. Why would they have totems of demonic snakes and death spiders?”

“I can think of only one possibility to explain this anomaly… bloodline memory. The Asoerta people must have the blood of demons and subterranean races. Some of them must have awakened their bloodline memories and drawn these totemic images.”

“Black-blooded mongrels! I’ll smash the bones of the Asoerta people with my blade-shields!” Yudrit the Dragon Hunter bellowed.

“Haha, did you forget your pipe-weed today? The Yasurta Empire went extinct long ago…”

“Doesn’t stop me from smashing their bones!”

Eglok Graybeard coughed repeatedly. Seeing his fellow Dwarves still using the Asoerta people to mock each other, he couldn’t help but curse, “A pack of Dwarven idiots! The sun lit the spark of civilization, and all surface civilizations originated from the Elven Empire, the Asoerta people included. Didn’t you see the spider marking? That’s an incarnation of the Moon Goddess! Don’t our own cemeteries in Silverhawk City have spider patterns?”

That made sense. The Ancient Behemoths had once worked together to banish the King of the Spirit Realm to the underworld, having him lead his swarm against the demons of the Abyss. Subsequently, the King of the Spirit Realm and his insects underwent demonization and were defeated by a lord of the Abyss. He then attacked the surface world from below. The Goddess Freya led the ancient Elven Empire to victory over the King of the Spirit Realm and his insectoid army. The Moon Goddess then seized the King of the Spirit Realm’s authority over death, became the Spider Lady, and created the Dark Elves and subterranean races to stand against the Abyss.

It could be said that the Spider Lady and her Dark Elves took the place of the King of the Spirit Realm, holding that position until the end of the Twilight Era, when the Ancient Gods walked the path of pan-consciousness. The Moon Goddess and the Spider Lady ceased to answer the prayers of elven shamans, and the demons of the Abyss tempted the Fey race to betray the ancient Elven Empire. The Fey transformed into High Goblins, and they performed rituals to summon the Black blood demons to the material plane.

In fact, this was the Abyss demons’ first invasion of the material world. Using the High Goblins’ rituals, they opened a fissure deep underground, bypassing the Dark Elves’ line of defense to manifest in the World of Taelon Ruier.

The second demonic invasion occurred in the middle to late period of the ancient Alchemical Empire. Humans, Barbarians, and Elves formed an alliance and, after a brutal war, finally drove the demons back to the Abyssal plane. However, the Secret Order of ancient Alchemists had a secret plan to counter-invade the Abyss, and all of this was secretly guided by the Elven Empire.

The Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower and the Asoerta people were products of that counter-invasion plan, their powers originating from the remnants of the King of the Spirit Realm. Setting the Ant-man monsters aside for a moment, the Assyrians were clearly a non-human race, and the Elven Empire possessed the technology to transform primordial humans into non-humans. The Alchemists and Wizards of the Secret Order were responsible for providing the primordial humans, while the Elven Empire provided the bloodline of the King of the Spirit Realm, resulting in the creation of the Assyrians—a people who were mildly demonized, adapted to the underground, and worshipped the Spider Lady.

The Assyrians and the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower were supposed to become vassals of the Dark Elves, joining the Spider Kingdom to resist the third invasion of the Abyss demons. However, for some unknown reason, this plan of the Secret Order and the Elven Empire met with failure. Victor guessed that due to the inexplicable collapse of the Alchemical Empire, the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower went out of control, forcing the Assyrians to contend with the Ant-man monsters in the Endless Forest.

Victor had previously anticipated that Silverhawk City would dispatch an elite force to follow Iluth’s scouting party, but he hadn’t expected the Elven Prince of Aylanta to join their operation as well. Putting aside the Prince’s personal motives, given his status, why would the Elven Empress agree to let her beloved son take such a risk?

Unless there was a distinguished guest in that troop, one who required the Elven Prince’s personal escort and surveillance!

…A Dark Elf of the Spider Lady?

If this hypothesis was correct, the situation was tending to evolve beyond Victor’s control, and it revealed some very important information.

At this moment, Victor truly wanted to turn back and get a good look at the core members of the elven reinforcements. His Nemesis talent, unlike Wind Whisper, had relied on Qiqi’s animal companion to glimpse the Elven Prince, Elder Windsong, and the Hill Dwarf General. But since the Ferocious Black Wolf hadn’t gotten close to the strangers, Victor had missed the other core members among the elven backup.

Fortunately, Victor had already memorized the Elven Prince’s features. With his Nemesis lock active, as long as the prince made contact with a Dark Elf, he could lock onto a new target.

Victor schemed to find an excuse to leave so he could go monitor the Elven Prince and see if he could make any new discoveries. “These ruins are too small,” he said. “I’ll go look for other sites…”

“These ruins aren’t small. There’s a large space underground,” the Dwarf Prophet interjected.

“What?”

“With the spider patterns, this is clearly an Asoerta tomb.” Eglok turned and waved his thick, muscular arms at his fellow Dwarves, saying excitedly, “Good smiths, good stonemasons… what do Dwarves need most?”

The Dwarves raised the pickaxes they carried and shouted gleefully, “Pickaxes!”

Chapter 800: The Strange Tomb

Dwarves generally have a penchant for strong liquor and tobacco. They also love to wield hammers, smashing them against anvils with a resounding clang. Mining and digging pits are innate skills for every dwarf, a fact easily deduced from their short, stout builds.

There were only five dwarves among the Silverhawk scouts, but they were combat professionals, stronger and more powerful than the average dwarf. They were also born with the knowledge of where an underground tomb might be and the best place to start digging. The five dwarves took turns swinging their sharp, heavy pickaxes, quickly chiseling out more than a dozen ventilation holes connecting to the tomb below. Then, Yudrit the Dragon Hunter chose a spot, chipped away at the jumble of rocks a few times, and with a shower of sparks, the stones crumbled and tumbled away. A dark, gaping opening was revealed, and a foul, corrupt stench wafted out from within.

Aigelo Graybeard had already explained that there was a tomb beneath the ruins. When the entrance appeared, Victor and the elven warriors were amazed, but their brows furrowed in distaste.

Elves are instinctively averse to cramped, narrow rock caverns. This was especially true for those elves who had mastered the Wind Walk talent; they much preferred open spaces where the wind element was active. Victor was no exception. Rock obstructed the flow of the wind element, which was why he hadn’t sensed the space beneath the ruins earlier.

The straightforward dwarves paid no mind to the complex emotions of their elven companions. Aigelo Graybeard stopped a few of his kin who were gathering dry vines and shouted to Victor and the others, “Hey, if one of you sends a gust of fresh air in there, we won’t have to build a fire.”

Olavi Moonsong said in a low voice, “Sending in wind to change the air is no problem, of course, but I don’t want to crawl into a tomb.”

Victor walked straight to the entrance, summoned the wind element, and sent a continuous stream of cool, fresh air surging into the cavern. It forced the foul air within out through the newly opened ventilation holes. At the same time, he used the wind element to perceive the environment inside the tomb.

The underground space was much larger than expected, nearly ten times the area of the ruins above. Victor had to control the flow of wind for quite a while before all the air inside was replaced. Even the dwarves looked at him with expressions of awe and surprise.

These dwarves thought to themselves that if Olavi had been the one to pump air inside, the elf would probably already be on the ground playing dead.

Victor stopped the surge of wind and turned to Iluth Moonsong. “There are no signs of monster activity inside. It seems to be a normal tomb.”

Iluth keenly caught the subtlety in the nightingale’s words. She glanced first at the halfling, Qiqi, then turned back to Victor and asked quizzically, “I don’t sense any danger inside either… What do you mean by ‘no signs of monster activity’?”

“Qiqi doesn’t sense any danger inside either,” the halfling adventurer chimed in, lifting his round face.

Iluth Moonsong was a top-tier Gold-rank expert, so her danger sense wasn’t applicable to the other Silverhawk scouts. But if Qiqi the halfling said there was no danger, then it was relatively safe for everyone.

Victor nodded and said in a calm tone, “The wild intuition of ferocious creatures is ineffective against dormant Undead Creatures. I have personally witnessed Ferocious Warriors and their ferocious war beasts being ambushed by the undead… The fact that there are no signs of monster activity below doesn’t mean there won’t be a sudden, dangerous situation.”

“Thank you for the reminder, Lord Nightingale.” Iluth gave Victor a sincere nod of thanks. She then selected three dwarves, a Wind Dancer, two War Dancers, and Qiqi the halfling to descend with her. Angrise Windsong would lead the other scouts to stand guard around the ruins.

Victor, of course, had no intention of staying above. He merely disliked cave environments, even though enemies who could truly threaten him in such a setting were few and far between. Besides, the wind elements inside and outside the tomb had already intermingled, providing a path for his Void Walk. Even if the cavern were to suddenly collapse, it couldn’t trap him underground.

In truth, he had no need to worry about the danger of a cave-in. Just as a Ferocious Warrior could sense danger, the Dwarves had an innate sensitivity to rock formations. They knew where a collapse might occur, when it would happen, and how to deal with it. This was why dwarven stonemasons had unparalleled construction talent, able to build wonders on cliffs or transform an entire mountain into a dwarven fortress.

Yudrit the Dragon Hunter was the first to enter the tomb, followed by his dwarven brothers and the prophet, Aigelo. The elven warriors and Qiqi the halfling followed the dwarven guards, with Victor bringing up the rear.

The tomb was pitch black, with only a little light filtering through the ventilation holes. Thanks to his dim vision talent, Victor could vaguely make out the terrain inside the tomb, though details like color were hard to discern. In contrast, the dwarves, with their dark vision, were unaffected by the lightless environment. Still, they took stone-like objects from their pouches and rubbed them repeatedly in their rough palms. The stones gradually began to emit a golden glow, banishing the darkness like torches and illuminating a portion of the area.

The dwarven prophet held up a glowing stone and showed it off to Victor. “This isn’t some low-grade fluorescent stone… Oh, look at how dazzling and brilliant their light is, just like the sun. That’s why we dwarves call it a Sunsfire Diamond. Don’t be fooled by its ordinary appearance. If you place it under a Sun Tree, it can absorb sunlight. The longer it’s there, the more powerful the Sunsfire Diamond becomes. If you leave it for half a year, it can provide light for a whole day… There aren’t many Sunsfire Diamonds of this quality, even in Silverhawk City.”

“Qiqi stole them from the Treasury in Silverhawk City,” the halfling adventurer piped up from behind Victor, his face full of pleased pride.

Aigelo ignored the little master thief who was taking the opportunity to boast, and continued chattering, “Lighting up a dark cave isn’t a good idea. Dwarves don’t need light, but the long-eared elves do…”

“Shut up!” Iluth hissed at the chatterbox dwarf, shoving him forward. She commanded, “Dwarven guards at the front. Elven warriors, pay attention to your surroundings. We’ll explore the entire tomb first to confirm there are no monsters, then we’ll carefully search for clues… Everyone be careful. Let’s begin.”

The heavily-armored dwarven guards mounted the Sunsfire Diamonds into sockets on their helmets. Holding shields and iron clubs, they led the way. They were tasked with drawing the attention of any monsters, and their heavy breathing and the clang of their armor were particularly jarring in the dead silence of the tomb. The elven warriors and the halfling adventurer, armed with bows, followed quietly behind the dwarves like silent phantoms. They relied on their Blind Sense talent to determine the positions and distances of their teammates. If the heavily armored dwarven guards leading the way were attacked, they would immediately provide support with their bows, preventing any chaos.

The four major races of the Elven Empire lived together, and based on their different racial talents, they had formed highly efficient and complementary tactical methods to handle various environments. In the current situation, the heavily armored dwarven guards served as tanks and bait, while the lightly armored elven warriors provided cover from the shadows.

However, the three dwarves with glowing heads were certainly conspicuous enough, though they also looked a bit comical, like large, walking candles.

Thanks to the illumination from the “large candles,” the details of the tomb’s interior became clear. This tomb was well-preserved, about two point five meters high from floor to ceiling. Low walls built of stone blocks formed a series of passageways, like a labyrinth. Perhaps because it was built high on a mountain, the tomb was relatively dry, with no standing water or mud on the floor. But strangely, in this sealed, dry tomb, there were no iconic sculptures, murals, decorative patterns, or burial goods to be seen.

It didn’t look like a tomb or burial pit; it was more like a basement.

The team walked a circuit along the low-walled passages without finding anything of value. To be precise, aside from the stone walls, there were no traces of man-made activity. Victor grew even more puzzled. This tomb was of a considerable scale; just building the network of low walls would have required a great deal of labor. Logically, the Yasurta craftsmen who built the tomb would have had to eat, drink, and relieve themselves. They would inevitably have left traces of their presence, like containers for food and water, or broken tool parts… Even if the Yasurta craftsmen were exceptionally tidy, in such a well-sealed tomb, some grains of cereal, or metabolic waste like hair or feces, should have remained.

However, Victor saw none of these small things. And so, the clean tomb exuded an unusual, eerie strangeness.

The lively halfling Qiqi and the chattering dwarves were all silent now. A repressive atmosphere gradually spread through the team. It wasn’t until the dwarves led everyone into the core area of the tomb that the cramped space suddenly opened up, and a spacious great hall appeared before them.

The great hall still contained no statues, stone tablets, or burial goods. But in the center of the hall was a square pool built of stone blocks, about eight meters to a side. In the very middle of the pool was a high stone platform, upon which lay a faint, humanoid object.

The Silverhawk scouts cautiously explored every corner of the hall. After confirming there were no abnormalities, Yudrit the Dragon Hunter dwarf went forward alone to inspect the pool. He walked around it once and then let out a breathy exclamation, “Ah, not being able to talk just now was killing me… Come and see, everyone! There’s a dead person here… uh, a dead monster. Whatever it is, it’s not an elf, not a dwarf, not a halfling… and definitely not a four-hoofed centaur.”

Aigelo rushed forward, glanced at the pool, and let out a laugh, shouting excitedly, “Black mud… There’s black mud in the pool! My divination reading was absolutely correct!”

The grey-bearded dwarf was beaming with joy. In the forest, his divination had revealed elements of a pit, black mud, and ants. The black mud in the center of this tomb greatly bolstered his confidence, and in turn, gave confidence to the Silverhawk scouts.

Victor had used his Nemesis talent to spy on the entire process of the dwarf prophet’s divination, so he didn’t bother to feign ignorance. He focused his attention on the stone platform.

It was a platform carved from black glazed rock, one point six meters high, two point two meters wide, and two point nine meters long. Under the light of the Sunsfire Diamonds, it reflected a deep, dark luster, appearing solid and heavy. Victor estimated the black glazed rock platform weighed fourteen tons, but it was definitely not a product of the nearby mountains; it had been transported here from the outside. Strange characters were inscribed on its side, bearing some relation to both the common elven and human scripts, but Victor did not recognize them. The bottom of the platform and its base were smooth and flat, a stark contrast to the rough appearance of the upper part. This smooth bottom was clearly designed to facilitate moving the platform.

Lying on the platform was a desiccated corpse, as if it had been slumbering in the tomb for centuries. Its form and size were similar to a human’s, but its neck and the backs of its hands were covered in a thin layer of withered scales, and two sharp fangs protruded from its shriveled lips. These features perfectly matched the description of the Yasurta people in ancestor Trigovar’s notes—they resembled humans, but had vertical pupils, long, hollow fangs, and some had fine scales on their necks and limbs.

Neither the warriors of the Elven Empire nor the commoners of the human kingdoms would fear a corpse. In a world with monsters, even though the Yasurta people were an intelligent race no one present had ever seen before, it wasn’t enough to cause a fuss. What was perplexing, however, was that this dried corpse was dressed in brightly colored textiles and wore a multicolored feathered headdress. The style of the attire exuded a sense of mystery, nature, and primitive worship. Compared to the corpse, which looked like it had been dead for centuries, these items were too well-preserved, as if they were products of the last few decades.

If this body had gone through the process of decay and desiccation, its clothes should have shown traces of contamination from bodily fluids, but they were clean—clean to the point of defying common sense. It was as if someone had changed the clothes on a centuries-old corpse.

So, in this sealed tomb, how did the person who came to change the corpse’s clothes get out?

“I think there’s a ghost hiding in some corner of the hall, spying on us. It’s the tomb owner’s servant. When we move this body, the ghost servant will appear,” Qiqi the halfling began to weave one of his adventure stories, chattering away with his dwarven companions.

“Aigelo, what do you think we should do now?” Iluth asked the dwarf prophet.

The grey-bearded dwarf was studying the text on the side of the platform. Without looking up, he said, “Don’t touch anything here for now. Let me have a look first… This writing looks like a variant of the ancient imperial script. It will take me a long time to translate it… Also, the clothes on it are a bit strange. They look like they’ve only been preserved for about thirty years, but this tomb was excavated over one thousand years ago.”

A thought struck Victor, and he pressed, “How do you know this tomb is from over one thousand years ago?”

“I just know… All dwarven stonemasons know. I am, after all, the amazing Prophet Aigelo,” the grey-bearded dwarf replied smugly.

Since this involved the dwarves’ Sons of the Hills bloodline talent, Victor saw no need to press for the details. He nodded and said, “This corpse should be a noble from a prominent Yasurta family. He’s been completely bled dry. He may have also taken some kind of drug to cause his body to dry out without rotting. His clothes, especially the feathered headdress, have been preserved for no more than forty years. In other words, this Yasurta noble entered this tomb, which is over one thousand years old, about thirty years ago, lay down on this stone platform, took a drug, and bled himself dry… It was a suicide. To be precise, he seems like a sacrifice.”

The dwarf prophet asked, dumbfounded, “How do you know that?”

“I just know.” Victor smiled faintly. His elemental perception was even more minutely detailed than a physical autopsy. It not only allowed him to “see” the wounds where the Yasurta noble had bled out, but also to analyze the age of the corpse, clothes, and feathered headdress.

Iluth Moonsong couldn’t help but press further, “Over thirty years ago, a Yasurta noble came into a tomb that was excavated over a thousand years ago, and then sacrificed himself… But the entrance to this tomb was perfectly sealed. Who opened the door for him?”

“Good question.” Victor nodded in appreciation and continued, “If you’re asking how the sacrifice got in, I can answer that right now… There’s a hole under this stone platform. I can feel the wind element inside it.”

Yudrit the Dragon Hunter dwarf, fearing the platform might be trapped, leaped over the pool of black mud before Greybeard could act. He landed on the platform’s base, stomped his foot to feel it out, and shouted, “There really is a stone cavern underneath… And this cavern goes straight down for over ten meters before changing direction. There’s a very long and large stone tunnel below.”

“Black mud… tunnel?”

Another dwarven guard remembered something. He slapped Aigelo on the shoulder plate and exclaimed in admiration, “By the Moon above and the Hills below, Brother Aigelo, your last divination was spot on!”

Iluth’s eyes flashed, and she said in a deep voice, “Push the platform aside and let’s see.”

“Alright, watch me!” Yudrit the Dragon Hunter found a suitable spot for leverage, braced himself against the platform, and took a deep breath. The muscles in his arms swelled and bulged as he strained to push the black glazed rock platform, which weighed more than ten tons, to the side. It revealed a pitch-black, deep hole underneath, and a stream of air with an acrid, metallic smell billowed out.

Victor, Iluth, and the dwarven prophet all jumped onto the base, using the light from the Sunsfire Diamonds to observe the deep chasm.

“This mountainside tunnel uses fissures in the mountain wall to create a ventilation system… Tsk tsk, the Yasurta people’s skill at excavating tunnels is almost as good as us dwarves,” Yudrit said, smacking his lips.

“That’s not right… Look at the stone walls of the pit. There are no marks from pickaxes or tools on them… Are those claw marks?”

Aigelo leaned over the opening, pointing at the distinct claw marks on the tunnel wall. He said in disbelief, “The Yasurta people dug this tunnel by hand? The stone was as soft as mud in their hands… How is that possible? How could the Yasurta people be even better at digging through rock than dwarves?!”

Iluth thought for a moment, then shook her head. “This wasn’t the work of the Yasurta people. At least, this mountainside tunnel wasn’t dug by them. It was the Ant-man monsters.”

As she spoke, she looked up and explained to Victor, “The Ant-man monsters were the ancient nemesis of the Yasurta people. After the Yasurta Empire fell, they attacked the lands of the Forest Centaurs in the far east. Silverhawk City has cooperated with the Forest Centaurs to fight the Ant-man threat for over a thousand years. It’s said that Ant-man monsters are better at digging tunnels than dwarves; they can secrete a type of mucus that softens hard rock.”

She paused, then added, “However, this is all according to the records in Silverhawk City… Neither I nor my subordinates have participated in the wars to eliminate the Ant-men. I’ve heard the old veterans of the Silverhawk City Guard say they’ve never seen an Ant-man monster dig a tunnel either. The City Guard generally doubts the rumors that the Ant-men can dig… Now it seems that rumor was true.”

The last war between the Forest Centaurs and the Ant-men probably took place over thirty years ago. The young General Moonsong and her subordinates were either not yet born or were powerless children at the time.

Victor nodded and ventured, “Perhaps there are two different types of Ant-man monsters, like soldier ants and worker ants.”

According to the records of the Secret Order’s Alchemists, there was only one template for alchemical ant-men, but they were divided into flammable, aging ant-men and non-flammable ones. The reason those ant-men didn’t dig tunnels was because the ones who fought the Forest Centaurs were all old ant-men nearing death. The Ant-man Empress had deliberately expended them.

Unaware of the truth, Iluth twitched her ears to show it didn’t matter. Aigelo Graybeard became cheerful again. He and Yudrit jumped back to the open floor, linked arms with another dwarf, and began to perform a dwarven kick-dance, shouting, “Black mud, tunnel, ants… Greybeard’s divination was not wrong! Black mud, tunnel, ants… Greybeard’s divination is very accurate!”

Qiqi the halfling took the dwarves’ previous spot, his clear voice piping up, “Over thirty years ago, a Yasurta noble entered a Yasurta tomb from over a thousand years ago through a tunnel dug by their nemesis, the Ant-men. Then he lay on the stone platform and killed himself… It’s a bizarre story. Alright, I think what’s even more bizarre is that this vertical tunnel is hard to get a foothold in. How could that suicidal Yasurta push up such a heavy stone platform from below?”

Olavi Moonsong also hopped over and interjected, “Qiqi, are you trying to say there’s a ghost in this tomb that helped the Yasurta noble push the platform open from the inside?”

Qiqi nodded repeatedly, his bright eyes scanning their surroundings, trying to find the invisible ghost hiding in the tomb.

In reality, ghosts were very weak, lacking the power to alter physical reality; they could only influence the minds of living beings. A ghost that had only existed for a short time couldn’t accomplish such a feat, and the Silverhawk scouts were not afraid of ghosts. The Moonlight Tree leaf talismans they carried were blessed with the power to dispel spirits.

Without the ghost factor, the question of how the Yasurta noble climbed from the mountainside tunnel into the tomb became an unsolved riddle. Olavi stared at the black mud in the pool, which gave off a smell of decay, and said, “I guess it has something to do with this black mud.”

“Any fool would think of the black mud,” Aigelo said, stopping his song and dance. He declared with full confidence, “Stop your wild guessing. Let the amazing Prophet Aigelo perform a Post-cognition Divination, and we’ll clear up all the questions.”

Post-cognition Divination?

Victor expressed his question with a look. Olavi Moonsong explained in a low voice, “Post-cognition Divination is a required course for dwarven prophets. They must master post-cognition before they can advance to study Precognition Divination. It’s like how dwarven blacksmiths must hone their craft, but they are still born miners… Aigelo’s Precognition Divination failed to earn his mentor’s approval, but his Post-cognition Divination is still quite accurate.”

Greybeard, who was preparing his ritual implements, looked up and shouted, “Hey, long-ears who loves to speak ill of others, I heard that… The amazing Prophet Aigelo accurately divined the black mud, the tunnel, and the ants. My mentor will definitely award me the prophet’s robes.”

Olavi bowed in apology to the pompous dwarf prophet. Victor, intrigued, interjected, “What is the principle behind Post-cognition Divination?”

Aigelo’s expression became solemn and dignified. He said with a hint of pride, “You came, and the hill saw. You left, and the hill remained. It silently records. When the hill is no more, the stones remain. When the stones are no more, the soil remains. When the soil is no more, the dust remains. The hill reveals its records to the dwarf prophet.”

After speaking, the dwarf prophet went back to preparing his ritual items. Victor was silent for a moment, then asked in a low voice, “And the price?”

“…A grey beard turns white,” Iluth Moonsong replied softly. She watched the busy dwarf, her expression complex as she murmured, “But all dwarf prophets take pride in their white beards.”

Chapter 801: The Realm of All Spirits

Eglok Graybeard donned a pair of pristine, shining deerskin gloves. He carefully used a pair of pliers to clip a small fragment from the mummy’s fingernail. Then, he took a pinch of black mud from the pool, ground the two together, and placed the mixture into his large pipe. He was preparing to conduct a Post-cognition Divination right here in the great hall of the tomb.

According to him, a Divination was most effective when performed at the scene of the event. This tomb was hidden, sealed, and sturdy. Aside from the mysterious Assyrian noble’s mummy, there were no traces of any other being’s activities. The more singular the information within the tomb, the clearer the Divination ritual’s focus would be.

However, if one were to reverse and expand upon this theorem of Post-cognition Divination, it would seem to suggest that the Azoretta people deliberately chose desolate and uninhabited mountain wilds to build their hidden tombs. One of their purposes for doing so might have also been to eliminate interference, which carried a very distinct sense of ritual—a ritual with a specific target.

To whom were the Azoretta people’s burial rituals directed?

This question could not be answered for the time being. But if Eglok Graybeard were to use Post-cognition Divination to search for the item stolen by the Halfling Qiqi, the worst that could happen was angering the little halfling. Yet if he were to divine the origin of the Assyrian noble’s mummy right here at the scene of the burial ritual, who knew what kind of existence he might startle?

One could say that Eglok’s Post-cognition Divination this time was extremely perilous, its consequences unpredictable. Victor, however, remained a silent observer and offered no words of caution. A clever man is frivolous and arrogant, fond of voicing his opinions on all occasions to show off his minor intelligence; a wise man is calm and humble, and will not question a professional in an unfamiliar field.

Eglok Graybeard was a professional Dwarf Prophet. Relying on the Elven Empire’s incomparably deep resources and heritage, he knew very well what he was doing and should also know how to avoid danger.

Victor watched as the Greybeard Dwarf took out an oval leaf, as verdant as jade, and placed it in his mouth. He couldn’t help but nod inwardly, guessing that the Moonlight Tree leaf charm would provide a certain degree of protection for the Dwarf’s Post-cognition Divination.

After completing all his preparations, Eglok brought the pipe, filled with tobacco, ritual essential oils, and the informational materials, to the blue flame of a red oil lamp and lit it. With the rise and fall of his breath, smoke with a strange scent was inhaled and exhaled from his nostrils, ear canals, and mouth. It swirled around the Dwarf’s body, like flowing water gradually submerging him, until only a pair of fiery red eyes were visible within the haze.

The last time Victor had observed the Dwarf Prophet conducting a Divination ritual was from over twenty kilometers away using his Nemesis talent. He had not been able to “see” clearly, nor could he distinguish colors. This time, watching Eglok Graybeard perform the Divination up close, Victor was astonished to find that his extraordinary vision actually could not penetrate the smoke. The Dwarf seemed to merge with the smoke, becoming a new life form with elemental characteristics. Of course, the Dwarf’s physical form remained stable; what dispersed was his spiritual power, and what changed was his soul.

In truth, the Dwarves were a peculiar race. According to the Elven Empire’s life tier system, they were naturally third-tier life forms, a tier higher than even the Wild Elves, and on par with ordinary Ogres. Both Dwarves and Ogres possessed tough bones and sinewy muscles—the physical traits of ferocious creatures—but ordinary Dwarves lacked the landmark psychic intuition of ferocious creatures, including a premonition of danger and combat intuition. In this respect, Dwarves were more like human Mystic Warriors and Mind Warriors; their bodies were in a Savage state, but their mental state was ordinary.

Only after witnessing Eglok’s ritual was Victor certain that the Dwarven mind also possessed precognitive and post-cognitive abilities, and they were deeper and clearer than those of a Ferocious warrior, almost touching upon the mysterious pan-conscious ocean.

This was surely the Bloodline talent of the Hill Giants at work.

Theoretically, a primordial human could simulate the Bloodline talent of any race. The effect would certainly be diminished, but it would include the precognitive talent of the Hill Giant bloodline. The fact that the priests of the Radiant Church could cast Great Divination was the best proof. The Great Divination might not be a direct simulation of a Dwarf Prophet’s Divination, but the two shared a common foundational Law, as did the psychic intuition of a Ferocious warrior.

If a Dwarf Prophet’s Divination was scored at one hundred, then the Great Divination would score one thousand. A Ferocious warrior’s danger premonition would only score a ten, while combat intuition could score a twenty.

Although the Dwarves’ precognitive and post-cognitive abilities required a special ritualistic state and the use of tobacco-like substances, this was undoubtedly a piece of the Randall knowledge jigsaw puzzle. X-3 silently listed the Dwarf bloodline as a new research topic to be solved. Victor did not expect to be able to replicate the Dwarf’s talent, but he believed it was a path for the theory of the Mind and Bloodline to solve the problem of combat intuition.

None of the Silverhawk scouts could have imagined what it truly meant for nightingale to be carefully observing the Dwarf Prophet’s Divination ritual.

Eglok himself was even more oblivious to the outside world, his mind completely immersed in a deep trance.

This Post-cognition Divination plunged him deeper into the trance than he had imagined. Fortunately, he had taken a Moonlight Tree leaf charm beforehand. He began to mutter, “The Realm of All Spirits… Sorrowful Wizard King… The Undying One is trapped… Blood Sacrifice of Sorrow…” After reciting the Divination elements, he decisively terminated the Divination. The smoke veiling his body slowly dispersed, and everyone saw the Dwarf Prophet sitting on the ground, fast asleep.

It was noon the next day when Eglok awoke from his deep slumber. The warmth of the bearskin rug was so comfortable that he began to roll around on it. Just then, the tent flap was violently thrown open. Eglok, with his backside sticking up in the air like a baby’s, saw Iluth Moonsong staring at him in astonishment. His old face instantly flushed crimson, and he roared in anger, “Don’t you know how to knock?”

“If a tent had a door… I wouldn’t knock either.” Iluth grabbed the fat on the back of the Dwarf’s neck and hauled him directly out of the tent. The biting cold wind finally jolted the groggy Dwarf fully awake.

A few moments later, Greybeard, wrapped in the bearskin rug, sat around the campfire with the others and recounted his vision with great animation. “I saw everything. That Azoretta kid with the feathered headdress came walking out of the mountain tunnel, flanked by two three-meter-tall undead giants. They weren’t like the undead monstrosities from the Forest of Despair, but they were close, just wrapped in burial shrouds… They were the Azoretta kid’s bodyguards, though maybe he didn’t need any, because the few Ant-man monsters in the tunnel had already become white-eyed undead and didn’t attack the feathered kid at all… Uh, the undead ants ignored him, just wandering around the tunnel. The feathered kid kept walking until he reached the end of the tunnel, then he climbed up, chanting some awful-sounding spell… And guess what? The stone slab blocking the top of the tunnel was pushed open… Haha, surprising, isn’t it? You’d never guess there was another feathered kid in the tomb already. He had pale eyes, he was an undead, and he pushed open the stone slab to let the new feathered kid into the tomb.”

“The new feathered kid called the undead feathered kid ‘Grandpa’… He babbled a bunch of nonsense at his grandpa… The parts I couldn’t hear must have been useless nonsense. Anyway, the undead wouldn’t respond to the new feathered kid, not even if it was his own grandson from when he was alive. The new feathered kid cried for a while, then led his Grandpa feathered kid to the edge of the pool. He ordered his grandpa to jump into the black mud and watched as the undead corroded into a puddle of it. Then the new feathered kid started grabbing the black mud and stuffing it into his mouth until he couldn’t eat anymore. He lay down on the stone slab, stabbed himself in the stomach with his palm, and blood just poured out, flowing along the slab and into the pool of black mud… He kicked the bucket, and I fell asleep.”

Eglok’s words contained a great deal of information. Before the others could fully digest it, the quick-tempered Yudrit spoke first. “Before you fell asleep, you mentioned the Divination elements. Something about the Realm of All Spirits, the Sorrowful Wizard King, The Undying One is trapped, and the Blood Sacrifice of Sorrow…”

“Divination elements? Did I say that?” Eglok was completely baffled, a look of confusion on his face. He then shook his head firmly. “Impossible. Post-cognition Divination can’t have Divination elements… Yudrit must have been hallucinating.”

“You did indeed say them.” Olavi Moonsong flicked his long ears and looked at the Dwarf Prophet with sympathy. “If you don’t believe it, you can ask Lord nightingale.”

Victor gave a light cough. Meeting Eglok’s questioning gaze, he nodded and asked, “I don’t understand the Divinations of a Dwarf Prophet. It seems that a Post-cognition Divination shouldn’t have elements, is that right?”

“Of course there are no Divination elements! Precognition Divination is what’s supposed to have Divination elements, which is why they require interpretation,” Eglok said loudly.

Victor spoke in a low, somber voice, “It seems you’ve forgotten. And forgetting certain things can also be a form of protection, either self-protection or protection from the Moonlight Tree leaf… What I want to ask is, what if the subject of your Post-cognition Divination didn’t actually die?”

“What? Didn’t die… That new feathered kid was dead as a doornail, everyone saw it, haha… ha…” Eglok’s laughter grew less and less confident. He muttered, “If he hadn’t died, I would have kept watching him… But I really can’t remember.”

Victor raised an eyebrow and said thoughtfully, “An Undead Creature’s body is dead, but is its soul also dead? This is a question no one can likely answer with certainty. Let’s just assume the new feathered kid’s soul didn’t die but entered some mysterious world. Would your Post-cognition Divination have followed it in?”

“The Realm of All Spirits,” Iluth Moonsong said slowly. After a pause, she asked, “Then what do ‘Sorrowful Wizard King,’ ‘The Undying One is trapped,’ and ‘Blood Sacrifice of Sorrow’ actually mean?”

Eglok tugged at his grey beard and said in frustration, “Don’t look at me. I have no memory of the Divination elements at all. I’ve already missed the opportunity for interpretation.”

The Dwarf Prophet could not interpret the forgotten Divination elements, but Victor had some understanding of this cryptic information. Ancestor Trigovar’s notes recorded that the supreme rulers of the Assyrian Empire were called “Wizard Kings,” and below them were the “Shamans,” who belonged to the Empire’s ruling class. The Assyrian Shamans believed in animism—that the souls of the Assyrians could attain eternal life if they entered the Realm of All Spirits after death. Thus, the Assyrians used the Blood Sacrifice of their own kin to maintain and expand the Realm of All Spirits.

This happened to coincide perfectly with the authority of the Ancient God, the King of the Spirit Realm.

The Assyrian Empire was, in fact, opening a plane of souls along the Path of the King of the Spirit Realm. The object of their worship was the Realm of All Spirits itself.

Perhaps a portion of the King of the Spirit Realm’s will was regaining its strength within the Realm of All Spirits that the Assyrian Shamans revered. But the clergy of the Lord of Radiance were hostile to all devils and evil gods with self-awareness. The ancestors of the Trigovar family had unhesitatingly destroyed the Assyrian Empire’s altars and disrupted the Shamans’ blood sacrifice rituals.

Victor could imagine that the Wizard King presiding over the blood sacrifice ritual must have suffered a severe backlash. He retaliated against the Trigovar family’s Gold Paladin, but his greatest threat came from the Ant-man Empress—known to the Assyrians as The Undying One.

Why was the Ant-man Empress called The Undying One?

Because Her will could descend upon any Ant-man. Even if the Assyrian Empire’s Shamans killed the Ant-man queen carrying the Empress’s will, they could not completely annihilate Her.

The Ant-man Empress clearly possessed the characteristics of an elemental life form. She originated from a part of the King of the Spirit Realm and could probably also enter the Realm of All Spirits to seize the King’s fragmented will.

The sequence of events was becoming very clear. The Assyrian Empire’s Sorrowful Wizard King held a portion of the authority over the Realm of All Spirits, and within it, he had trapped the majority of the Ant-man Empress’s will. This would explain why the Ant-man army spared the remnants of the Assyrian Empire and instead turned to attack the distant Centaur Hills, and why their movements were so wooden and stiff, very much in the style of alchemical creatures. The Ant-man Empress was locked in a fierce struggle with the Sorrowful Wizard King in the Realm of All Spirits and had little vigor left to command her Ant-man Legions.

The situation of the Sorrowful Wizard King, or the Lord of Sorrow, was likely not much better. He could prevent the Ant-man army from attacking his own people, turning any Ant-men that entered his domain into Undead Creatures, but the Ant-man Empress had already invaded the Realm of All Spirits. As the pan-conscious collective of the Alchemy Tower, the Ant-man Empress’s will was nearly indestructible. Victor could reach this conclusion by referencing the soul quality of alchemical creatures. It seemed only a matter of time before the Ant-man Empress took over the Realm of All Spirits.

The bloodline descendants of the Assyrian Wizard King had no choice but to sacrifice themselves, enhancing the power of the Lord of Sorrow through their offerings.

There were still many flaws and omissions in this hypothetical Deduction. For example, Victor hadn’t figured out what roles the Lord of Despair and the Black Blood Sovereign were playing. But if the hypothesis was generally correct, a balance was being maintained between the Lord of Sorrow and the Ant-man Empress, which meant the threat of the Ant-man army to the Centaur Hills was limited. The prerequisite was that the Ant-man Empress could not escape from the Realm of All Spirits, and could not devour the Lord of Sorrow’s will to completely grasp the authority of the Realm of All Spirits.

Victor held a pessimistic view on this, otherwise, old man Miller would not have gone to such great lengths to infiltrate the Randell Diocese.

Currently, there were but two ways to resolve the issue of the Ant-man Empress. One was for Sylvia to personally intervene and obliterate Her. The other was to find the Elemental Rune Crystal prepared by the Alchemists of the Secret Order, destroy the Will Side of the Ant-man Alchemy Tower, and allow Her undying Soul Fire to be assimilated and absorbed by the fire Elemental Sea.

Victor would rather reach a compromise with the Ant-man Empress than sacrifice Sylvia. The first method was not even worth considering. As for the second, Victor still had many mysteries to solve, but he believed that for the time being, they should not weaken the Lord of Sorrow’s power, but rather try their best to maintain the balance in the Realm of All Spirits.

“Try not to touch anything in the tomb’s altar,” Victor said after some thought. “I suspect that with the Asoerta Temple as the center, there are many more similar tomb altars nearby, all connected by the tunnels dug by the undead Ant-men, forming a vast underground world… Disturbing the tomb altars would likely lead to undesirable consequences, which would be detrimental to our infiltration of the temple to find ‘Freya’s Tear.’”

“Right now, we have two paths: go directly to the Asoerta Temple, or take the tunnels in the mountain and try our luck.” Victor looked at Iluth Moonsong and said softly, “You make the decision.”

While inside the tomb, the sense of danger and being watched that had been plaguing Iluth’s mind had faded significantly. But crawling through tunnels was not something she enjoyed either; after all, the mountain tunnels restricted the Elves’ natural talents.

“I’m leaning towards the mountain tunnels…” Iluth hesitated for a few seconds before giving her preliminary decision, then added, “I need someone to present a completely opposite opinion, with reasons.”

“Haha, a Dwarf has no opposite opinion! Anyone with an opposite opinion is no Dwarf!” Yudrit said cheerfully.

Seeing her friend looking at her, Angris Windsong could only sigh and say, “Alright, I’ll raise the objection. As for the reason… was Greybeard’s previous Precognition Divination really pointing to our target, the Elven Empire’s sacred object, ‘Freya’s Tear’?”

The preoccupied Dwarf Prophet leaped to his feet, glaring as he shouted, “My interpretation of the Divination is accurate, very accurate, extremely accurate! The three Divination elements—tunnel, ant, and black mud—have all appeared. What more does the petty Angris have to say?”

“Then what about ‘Freya’s Tear’?” the female Tree Elf asked with a smile.

“The ‘acorn’ in the Divination elements represents the sacred object!”

“What if it doesn’t? What if you interpreted it wrong? I remember your mentor calling you an idiot precisely because you make mistakes interpreting Divinations,” Angris teased.

Eglok’s nose turned red, and he said weakly, “Well, my mentor has a bit of a temper… you know how Dwarves are, none of us have good tempers. When he called me an idiot, it was because he liked me.”

The group couldn’t help but chuckle. Several of the Dwarves were already rolling in the snow, clutching their stomachs and laughing with the grunts of a wild boar.

Iluth smiled at Angris and said, “Sister, your objection is invalid… We’ve already come this far; there’s no sense in turning back. Besides, the foreign human expedition team will not return empty-handed. No matter what, we must go and see for ourselves.”

Angris also smiled and said, “Alright, my reason is invalid, so just pretend I said nothing… I support infiltrating through the tunnels.”

Chapter 802: The Dark Elf Priestess

The tunnel inside the mountain was fairly spacious, and the air quality wasn’t bad. The faint light filtering through natural crevices in the rock walls was enough for the elves’ dim vision to see clearly within three hundred meters. Farther out, they could only rely on their extraordinary hearing to perceive changes in the environment. In fact, all third-rank elven combat professionals were skilled in blind-fighting techniques, including blind archery—using sound and air currents to lock onto targets in the dark. Although their firing range was limited by their bows, their sharp ears could pick up subtle movements within a one-kilometer radius.

Tree Elves had keener hearing and vision than Wild Elves, and Victor, even back at the Silver rank, could capture and distinguish sound information within twenty-five hundred meters in a very noisy environment.

When the last elven warrior jumped from the opening in the tomb’s great hall into the tunnel, the Dwarf guards packed all the dazzling Sunsfire Diamonds into special metal cylinders. The diamonds would slowly extinguish inside and could be taken out for use again when needed.

The Halfling Qiqi pointed to the opening in the tunnel ceiling and asked, “What about the stone platform up there? There’s no one to climb up and push it back to block the hole now.”

Just as Iluth was hesitating, wondering if she should climb up and pull the altar back into place, Nightingale had already leaped up. He landed on the ceiling by the opening, his body clinging to the almost vertical stone wall. His long, powerful leg hooked and kicked the part of the stone altar extending over the opening. The obsidian altar, weighing over ten tons, slid smoothly forward along its base, returning to its original position and blocking the passage between the tomb’s great hall and the tunnel.

Nightingale’s physics-defying maneuver left the dwarves and elves dumbfounded. They marveled at Mr. Nightingale’s incomparable, tyrannical strength, but they found it even harder to understand how he had done it. The section of the opening was nearly vertical. Even an agile elven warrior who could cling to the stone wall would not have the right angle to exert any force, let alone slide the heavy obsidian altar.

Any peak Silver Knight who had brought their fire of the mind to its zenith could accomplish what Victor had done, and Iluth Moonsong was certainly capable of it as well. Among the Silverhawk scouts, besides Iluth Moonsong, only the Halfling Qiqi had ignited his fire of the mind. Unfortunately, the Halfling’s strength was too weak; even his uncanny skills could not compensate for this failing.

Although Victor had many powerhouses under his command who had ignited the fire of the mind, this was a racial advantage unique to humans. While the other intelligent races possessed a variety of Bloodline powers, those who could ignite the fire of the mind were exceedingly rare. A mechanism like the one the Assyrians had arranged was something very few of the intelligent races could open or close on their own.

“A perfect balance of strength and skill, a perfect Integration of body and mind. What do you call this state?” Victor asked Iluth Moonsong as he floated down lightly.

The Halfling Qiqi answered before she could, “Mirror Heart. It means to see oneself and reflect one’s surroundings as if looking in a mirror. All of us Halfling adventurers possess the Mirror Heart, and General Moonsong has it too.”

Victor nodded and said coolly, “Then there’s no problem. Both Iluth and I can open this stone platform and return the way we came.”

Yudrit brandished the pickaxe in his hand and grumbled unconvinced, “With dwarves here, we can dig a new tunnel out.”

Iluth Moonsong suspected that the Silverhawk scouts were being followed by Silverhawk City’s most elite guard. Now, she was even more certain of her judgment, which was why Mr. Nightingale had pulled the stone platform back to block the tunnel entrance. But his actions were meaningless. Halfling adventurers could track the secret marks left by other adventurers. Just as Qiqi could track Bobo and Tiantian, the Halfling adventurer in the Silverhawk Guard could also track Qiqi.

Mr. Nightingale was a powerful Wanderer elf, and he was wary of unfamiliar members of his own race. The Silverhawk scouts were a small force, so he could control the situation, but the elven guards tracking them were surely a formidable unit. Mr. Nightingale did not want the scouts to make contact and join up with their reinforcements. His action of blocking the opening, whether effective or not, served to separate the Silverhawk scouts from their backup. It was a statement of his attitude and a test for the scouts; he wanted to see if the team he had temporarily joined knew they had reinforcements following them.

Once Iluth figured this out, she neither wanted to cause a misunderstanding with Mr. Nightingale nor knew how to explain it to him. She decided to just let the matter go. “This mountain tunnel must connect to the outside,” she said. “Let’s just follow it and see what strange encounters await us.”

Victor indeed did not want to meet the Elven Empire’s reinforcements, but he knew that whether they rendezvoused with the Silverhawk scouts was not up to him. When that moment truly came, he could slip away first. He had moved the obsidian altar to block the secret passage in the center of the tomb precisely to urge Iluth Moonsong to leave this place sooner.

He needed to seize the time and complete his exploration of the entire temple ruins and the tomb’s tunnels as quickly as possible.

No matter how stealthily the Elven Empire’s reinforcements followed, their large numbers, formidable strength, and conspicuous presence made them an obvious target. Hiding was useless. They would inevitably draw the attention of the several extraordinary beings, capturing the vast majority of their focus.

Iluth Moonsong’s decisiveness and proactiveness were outstanding. Whether she knew about the reinforcements behind them or not, her courage and wisdom should tell her that whoever joined up with the massive elven army would be in for a bad time.

Otherwise, why would she have organized a tiny scout squad of fifteen to trail the Randell Expeditionary Force?

Victor had split the Randell Expeditionary Force in two for the same reason. If the expedition had maintained its full strength, the extraordinary beings of the Asoerta Temple, feeling the pressure from the elven reinforcements, would have prioritized attacking the Randell Expeditionary Force at the front. The main elven reinforcements would then be able to watch the fire from across the river.

Now, however, those beings would have to focus their main efforts on the Empire’s reinforcements.

In fact, the four-way game had already begun. Victor held the initiative; his subordinates seemed overt but were actually covert, while the Elven Empire, the remnants of the Assyrian Empire, and the Ant-man Empress seemed covert but were actually overt. This was because he understood the grudge between the King of the Spirit Realm and the Moon Goddess, and the King of the Spirit Realm’s successors and the Elven Empire should also understand each other. The Elven Empire had sent people to retrieve their sacred object, and The Lord of Sorrow and the Ant-man Empress had no doubts about that. However, Victor’s goal was not the Moon Goddess’s sacred object at all. He just wanted to fish in troubled waters and seize the opportunity to find clues about the Elemental Rune Crystals.

The extraordinary beings in the temple and the Elven Empire’s reinforcements had all been misled by him.

In Victor’s plan, Imosen the Wizard was bait. To obtain the perfect body, the extraordinary beings in the temple had to have Imosen’s assistance, but if they wanted to swallow this bait, they first had to deal with the trap behind it. The elven reinforcements sneaking along behind them had become the trap in the eyes of the extraordinary beings.

The elites led by the Elven Prince had, in turn, been reduced to bait to cover for the Randell Expeditionary Force.

Currently, Imosen’s team had entered the underground tunnel entrance provided by The Lord of Sorrow; Narsen’s team was heading directly to the temple ruins. Under normal circumstances, The Lord of Sorrow and the other extraordinary beings should weaken Imosen’s forces and deal with Narsen’s group first. But the key was the limit of pressure. If Narsen’s team was weak and couldn’t withstand a single blow, The Lord of Sorrow could eliminate them with a wave of his hand. But if this force arranged by Imosen the Wizard was not a soft persimmon that could be easily squeezed, and taking them down would require time and a price, then the extraordinary beings in the temple would turn their sights to the main reinforcements of the Elven Empire.

From the moment Imosen impersonated the special envoy of the Elven Empire, the Elven Prince’s troops could no longer hide in the shadows. Whether they split their forces to follow Imosen’s, Narsen’s, and Iluth’s three teams, or concentrated their forces on one, they would have to face the pressure from the Asoerta Temple head-on. Splitting their forces would only lead to them being defeated one by one. His only choice was to consolidate his troops. In that case, The Lord of Sorrow and the other extraordinary beings would have to prioritize dealing with them, or at least prevent them from joining up with the “special envoy of the Elven Empire” up ahead.

Victor was worried that there might be Dark Elves from the underground kingdom among the elven reinforcements, which would introduce an uncertain anomaly into his plan. According to the information he had, the Asoerta people, the Ant-man Alchemy Tower, and the Dark Elves who revered the Spider Lady had something in common: they had each obtained a portion of the King of the Spirit Realm’s authority. The Asoerta people could even convert their faith to the Spider Lady and join the underground kingdom as a vassal race of the Dark Elves.

With the demons of the Abyss actively planning a third invasion, the appearance of the Dark Elves was thought-provoking. He couldn’t easily guess the Dark Elves’ objective, but if the Elven Empire intended to retrieve “Freya’s Tear,” then the Dark Elves of the underground kingdom might be coming for The Lord of Sorrow and the Black Blood Sovereign themselves.

Perhaps the ancient elves’ cooperation with the Secret Order’s Alchemists to secretly activate the plans for the Ant-man Alchemy Tower and the Asoerta people had already left a backdoor for the Dark Elves. Although that plan had failed back then, who could say for sure that the Dark Elves weren’t now coming to snatch the legacy?

If, by some chance, the Dark Elves held the “key to the door,” the elven reinforcements would advance very quickly, break directly into the temple ruins, and swiftly take what they wanted. In that case, the situation for the Randell Expeditionary Force would become dire.

In short, time was of the essence right now. Narsen’s team was responsible for searching the upper levels of the temple ruins, while Imosen’s team was responsible for the lower levels. Victor was responsible for the outer tunnels and tomb clusters of the temple. He had to race against the clock, complete his search before the elven reinforcements took action, and then consider how to adapt to the changing situation.

“This network of tunnels is vast. Who knows what dangers are hidden within? I’ll take the lead. All of you, follow me.” Victor walked to the very front of the team and headed into the depths of the tunnel without looking back.

Three days later, the elven reinforcements appeared outside the tomb ruins on the western slope of the Asoerta Mountains. After the Dwarf combat professionals and Halfling adventurers in the group finished inspecting the interior of the tomb, the high command of the reinforcements began to discuss their next course of action.

The handsome, sun-kissed Greater Elf prince faced the biting, sleet-filled wind, gazing toward the distant, unseen ruins of the Asoerta Temple to the southwest. A hard-to-detect fervor was hidden in his eyes. He exhaled a cloud of white mist that swirled in layers, as if releasing the burning passion in his heart. Finally, he turned and walked into a luxurious tent set up by the Forest Centaurs.

Inside the tent, Elder Sycodis Windsong, several Moon Elf princesses, a Dwarf Prophet, and the Centaur commander all greeted Prince Holimion.

After the Elven Prince from Aylanta sat down cross-legged, Sycodis Windsong spoke first. “Wenwen Greymouse has confirmed that Bobo entered the temple with a human expeditionary team; Tiantian entered the area beneath the temple with another team; and Qiqi followed General Iluth into the tunnels below the tomb. What should we do?”

Holimion said with a brilliant smile, “General Moonsong of Silverhawk City has made a new discovery. Since she has chosen the underground tunnels, we, of course, will go directly to the temple.”

With a placid expression, Sycodis asked in return, “And your reason?”

Holimion first glanced at the shaman sent by Silverhawk City, the Third Princess Corona Moondew, before turning his gaze back to Elder Windsong. “Venerable Lady Sycodis, Silverhawk City may have some misunderstandings about me. In truth, when I paid my respects to Her Highness the First Princess of Silverhawk City, I told her quite frankly that I did indeed have secrets that I could not yet disclose. I also promised that once Silverhawk City’s Eye of the Mysteries Guard arrived near the temple, I would resolve any doubts for the commander of the Eye of the Mysteries.”

“My ladies, you may begin your questions.”

Corona exchanged a look with Elder Windsong and said with a faint, graceful smile, “Your Highness, Silverhawk City is but a remote city-state of the Empire. The monster tribes around the city don’t pose much of a threat, but the Ant-man army from near the Asoerta Mountains has always been our greatest menace. For over one thousand four hundred years, Silverhawk City has followed Aylanta’s directive, assisting the White-mane Forest Centaur tribe in dealing with the Ant-man tide. Now, the White-mane Forest Centaurs have migrated to the distant Aylanta. We wish to know, if the Ant-men invade Silverhawk City, how much support can Aylanta provide? Or… is the High Council of Aylanta planning to abandon Silverhawk City?”

The Third Princess had asked tactfully. Holimion nodded and said very directly, “I know. Silverhawk City’s Moonlight Tree has lived for over one thousand four hundred years and has only three hundred years of life left. Silverhawk City is in urgent need of a Sun Tree seed to cultivate a new Moonlight Tree.” He paused for a moment, then said with a candid expression, “Over one thousand four hundred years ago, when the High Council of Aylanta supported the great house of Windsong in founding the city-state of Silverhawk, the sole requirement was to assist the White-mane Forest Centaurs against the Ant-man monsters. The dreadful Ant-man monsters must not invade the domain of a Moonlight Tree. Now that the White-mane Forest Centaurs no longer fight the Ant-man invaders, Silverhawk City is worried about whether the High Council still needs to support you… The White-mane Centaur King and Silverhawk City share a deep friendship. He has been tirelessly lobbying the High Council of Aylanta to secure a precious Sun Tree seed for Silverhawk City.”

“Her Majesty the Empress Regnant has agreed to support the White-mane Centaur King’s request, with no additional conditions.”

A joyful expression appeared on the Third Princess’s face, and she exchanged a smile with Sycodis Windsong. With the full support of Her Majesty the Empress Regnant, their home was saved.

Sycodis’s mood brightened, and her stern demeanor softened into a gentle grace. She said with composure, “Praise the Moon Goddess. May the light of the silver moon shine upon Her Majesty.”

Holimion nodded in thanks, then said with a somber tone, “Black blood demons are active in the forests near Aylanta. The High Council has recalled the Mountain Dwarves of Arreat and the White-mane Forest Centaurs, and the high-ranking Councilors also wish to recall the city-state of Silverhawk. Frankly, the Viel royal family is under great pressure to support Silverhawk City. Therefore, I solemnly request the aid of the lords of Silverhawk City in acquiring an extraordinary object in the Asoerta Temple.”

Sycodis furrowed her fine brows and pressed, “There’s more than just ‘Freya’s Tear’ in the Asoerta Temple? Could the object inside be related to the Black blood demons?”

Holimion looked towards an old Dwarf with a snow-white beard in the corner. He nodded to the prince, took out a large pipe, and exhaled a thin stream of white smoke that quickly billowed and spread inside and outside the tent.

This was the smoke barrier of a sixth-rank Dwarf Prophet, a self-contained domain capable of confounding the Perception and prying of outside beings.

Only after the smoke barrier had formed did the Elven Prince continue, “Elder Windsong, you should know that I have brought a mysterious and honored guest with me. Please, allow her to explain.”

As his voice fell, a slender, graceful figure walked into the smoke-filled tent. She elegantly undid her hooded cloak, revealing a face that was slightly pale yet incomparably alluring. She also possessed purple hair and purple eyes, a feature that set her apart from other elves.

“My lords of Silverhawk City, thank you for not giving me any trouble along the way.” The purple-haired, purple-eyed female elf giggled, her voice soft and bewitching. “I am Sasiltana Moonshadow of Spiderfang City. As you can see, I am a Dark Elf priestess in service to the Spider Lady.”

“I have followed the handsome Prince Holimion to Mount Asoerta this time to collect an authority that originally belonged to the Spider Lady…”

Chapter 803: Entering the Temple

After the meeting concluded, the Third Princess of Silverhawk City and Elder Windsong took their leave of Prince Holimion and departed the tent. In accordance with the consensus they had just reached, they were to return to the Silverhawk Guard’s camp and mobilize the warriors of the Eye of the Mysteries to join Aylanta’s elites on their expedition to the ruins of the Asoerta Temple. Aylanta’s Dwarf Prophet had pointed out that the temple’s underground tunnels were exceedingly complex; exploring them would not only waste time but also be unsuitable for deploying an army. Exploring the temple’s surface level was the quickest method. The beautiful and alluring Dark Elf priestess also stated that she was confident she could retrieve the Spider Lady’s authority and the Moon Goddess’s sacred object before the human expeditionary team did.

Along the way, Corona Moondew and Sikodisi did not exchange a single word. It was only after they had entered the command tent of the Eye of the Mysteries’ temporary settlement that the Third Princess softly asked Sikodisi, “Great Elder, what do you make of that purple-eyed elf?”

Corona’s expression was placid, but her tone betrayed a clear hint of coldness.

The Elven Empire was vast, comprising hundreds of city-states, each an independent kingdom. Although the Dark Elves and the Elves shared a common origin, with the Spider Lady they worshipped being the incarnation of the Moon Goddess’s wrath and death, the two sides had walked different paths since the end of the Twilight Era. Aside from Aylanta, which had always maintained contact with the Dark Elf kingdom, the other elven city-states had limited knowledge of their “relatives” living in the subterranean world. There was no trust to speak of, only curiosity and vigilance.

Corona Moondew did not know Sashirtana at all. Neither held any influence over the other. It was less that she distrusted the suddenly-appeared Dark Elf priestess and more that she harbored doubts about the Elven Prince of Aylanta.

Sikodisi sighed inwardly. During the previous discussion, Holimion and Sashirtana had not elaborated on the full story behind this trip to the Asoerta Temple, only stating that the matter was extremely complicated and time was of the essence. They had promised to explain everything to Silverhawk City’s commander during the exploration of the temple.

It was precisely this evasiveness from the Greater Elven Prince and the Dark Elf priestess that greatly displeased the Third Princess. Sikodisi Windsong was equally resentful. She very much wanted to demand of Prince Holimion who he considered his kin—the elves of Silverhawk City, or the Dark Elf priestess?

However, Sikodisi could understand why Prince Holimion would play favorites. After all, the previous two demon invasions had occurred in a time too distant, and most elven city-states could not truly empathize with the Black Blood demon crisis that Aylanta was currently facing. On this issue, it was the Dark Elves of the subterranean kingdom who stood with Aylanta instead.

Silverhawk City had indeed dispatched some troops to support Aylanta, but it was only a small force, so they had no right to blame Prince Holimion for withholding information. Conversely, even if the Elven Prince had revealed everything about the demons, would Silverhawk City have been interested in knowing?

Everything had a price. The more secrets one knew, the heavier the responsibility one bore. The consensus reached by the council of great houses in Silverhawk City was to do everything possible to protect their own home. Learning the details of Aylanta’s troubles would not only be unhelpful but would also leave the residents of Silverhawk City to be roasted over the flames of moral obligation until they were charred on the outside and tender on the inside.

As a powerhouse in the Legendary realm, Sikodisi possessed extraordinary wisdom and understood the art of compromise. However, her temperament was cold; even when facing Silverhawk City’s Shaman of the Moon Goddess, she was unwilling to waste words. She simply asked, “Are you worried about Iluth’s scout squad?”

Corona Moondew nodded, her voice tinged with sorrow. “My brother’s daughter is also in General Moonsong’s unit… According to Holimion’s decision, we will follow the human expeditionary team that Bobo is trailing and enter the upper levels of the temple ruins directly. This means completely cutting off support to General Moonsong. I’m worried they will encounter danger.”

She paused, then furrowed her brow and asked, “Prophet Eugene’s Divination revealed a powerful outsider in Iluth’s squad, and he said it was some kind of three-headed Serpent Lizard in disguise… Eugene was even injured because of that divination, and his spiritual state still hasn’t recovered… Great Elder, don’t you find this matter very strange?”

Sikodisi curled her cherry lips into a cold smirk. “What three-headed Serpent Lizard? This is clearly the extraordinary work of a human Wizard… Did you notice that Holimion’s other Dwarf Prophet didn’t attend today’s meeting? He must have also tried to divine the outsider with General Moonsong and gotten injured.”

Corona thought for a moment, then ventured, “Are you saying that Holimion chose to abandon Iluth Moonsong’s scout squad because he fears the human Wizard’s power?”

“Obviously. General Moonsong’s squad has already been targeted by the human Wizard. She may or may not be aware of it,” said Elder Windsong.

The Third Princess gently shook her head, muttering to herself, “I don’t understand what the Azoretta people’s temple, the Moon Goddess’s sacred object, and the Spider Lady’s authority have to do with humans. Why are they here?”

Sikodisi spoke gravely, “Don’t overthink it… You need to remember that having the Fourth Princess compete to be the heir to the throne was originally a self-preservation plan by Silverymoon City’s Council. And General Moonsong and her young subordinates all want to follow the Fourth Princess and join Aylanta… We are actually well aware that the Fourth Princess’s chances of inheriting the Empress Regnant’s throne are slim. But if we can obtain the sacred object of the Moon Goddess, we can strengthen Silverhawk City’s say in matters. Even assisting Prince Holimion in achieving his goal for this trip is more practical than the Fourth Princess inheriting the throne… For the continuation of our city-state, we will face a grave and perilous trial. General Moonsong and her subordinates are also expendable.”

Corona pressed her red lips together tightly. After a moment of silence, she sighed, “May the Moon Goddess protect us.”

Early the next morning, the elven reinforcements moved out swiftly. They trekked south along the mountain path for several hundred kilometers, arriving near the ruins of the Asoerta Temple by evening.

It was a magnificent structure built atop a mountain peak. Constructed from massive blocks of limestone, it took the form of a four-sided spire, standing over four hundred meters tall and replacing the mountain’s summit. Its base was joined to the mountain itself, and it had retained its original appearance even after a thousand years.

The elves and Forest Centaurs were awestruck by this miraculous ancient building, but the Dwarf combat professionals in the party scoffed at it. They claimed that this four-sided tower design, while structurally stable, was primitive and lacked any significant technical skill. A Dwarf could build one with their eyes closed.

This was certainly no idle boast. In fact, dwarves could construct far more complex and beautiful alpine architectural marvels. Prince Holimion and the other commanders breathed a collective sigh of relief. Since the dwarves were proficient in the construction techniques of four-sided towers, they would likely have a fairly complete understanding of the Asoerta Temple’s internal structure. This would save a lot of trouble; at the very least, the elven troops wouldn’t get lost inside the temple.

Prince Holimion summoned several dwarf guards with superb architectural skills. After carefully consulting their opinions, he decided to have all the Forest Centaur raiders remain outside the temple, along with the two mentally injured Dwarf Prophets and a small squad of elite Children of the Forest. He would lead the rest, following Bobo’s adventurer’s marks into the temple.

The temple was so tall and majestic that it defied mortal imagination. The more than two hundred elven and dwarven warriors at its base were like a swarm of tiny ants. Because of their relatively small size, it wouldn’t have been difficult for the dwarf guards to find a suitable crack to slip into the temple, but there was no need. The base of the temple had a passageway eight meters high and twelve meters wide. Even for the giant Dwarf General Zuknos Greyflame, such a passage felt more than spacious enough.

The Halfling Bobo and the human expeditionary team had entered the temple through the large passageway on the north side. The elven reinforcements did not hesitate, proceeding down the wide corridor. The only Dwarf Prophet in the party, Fantwick Fire-eye, examined the stone walls on both sides of the passage and said with great enthusiasm, “A building of this scale should be in the architectural style of the early Dark Age—imposing and with vast spaces, suitable for giant creatures to come and go. The Yasurta Empire only has a history of twenty to thirty thousand years, yet the temple they built is in the style of the ancient era. How unexpected.”

The Third Princess of Silverhawk City felt a stir in her heart and asked in her melodious voice, “Master Fire-eye, did the Azoretta people build the temple this way because there are giant beasts active inside?”

The old dwarf with the snow-white beard replied with a grin, “Young lady, ‘Freya’s Tear’ was originally a Sun Tree seed blessed by the Moon Goddess. It possesses incredible powers, but its primary ability is to enhance and maintain the power of a Bloodline. With the Moon Goddess’s sacred object, the Azoretta people were capable of raising ancient giant beasts.”

Corona was one hundred and ten years old, a relatively young Moon Elf. The dwarves were also a long-lived race; Fantwick Fire-eye was over one hundred and sixty, already in the twilight years for a Dwarf Prophet. In terms of both knowledge and status, he was qualified to call the Third Princess a “young lady.” Corona Moondew’s gaze shifted, and she asked with great curiosity, “Master Fire-eye, why did the precious ‘Freya’s Tear’ fall into the hands of the Azoretta people?”

The old dwarf stroked his beard. “That’s a long story… The Azoretta people were once a branch of humanity, much like the origin of dwarves and halflings. However, our dwarven and halfling ancestors were ancient human peoples who received the Moon Goddess’s blessing and thus became a part of the Elven Empire. But the Azoretta people’s history is short. They were a portion of ordinary humans who were altered thirty thousand years ago, after a human empire requested the aid of the highest elven council… According to The Agreement between the human Empire and the elven royal court at the time, the Azoretta people were to assist the Dark Elves in resisting the third invasion of demons from the Abyss… But something happened later. That powerful human empire suddenly collapsed, and the Azoretta people were left to thrive and multiply nearby.”

“On this expedition to the Asoerta Temple ruins, we should be able to solve this historical mystery… Oh, wait, there’s writing here! Let me try to translate this before we go on!”

A large amount of ancient text was inscribed on a section of the corridor wall. Upon seeing it, the old Dwarf Prophet refused to move another step. He and several of his apprentice prophets raised their heads to carefully identify the written figures, which had been eroded by rust-colored water stains and moss.

Holimion couldn’t help but frown. The text covered an entire wall and was severely damaged. Who knew how long it would take for Prophet Fire-eye to translate it all?

The Elven Prince waited a little longer. Seeing the old dwarf staring at the wall, muttering to himself with no intention of leaving, he finally couldn’t resist saying, “Tutor Fire-eye, why don’t you leave an apprentice and a squad of dwarf guards to make rubbings of this ancient text? They can take them to the temporary camp outside the temple and have the Forest Centaur commander keep them safe. Let’s keep moving.”

“Don’t be impatient, little one. Let me look a bit longer,” the old dwarf said vaguely, his feet seemingly rooted to the spot. “This looks like a variant of the ancient elven script. It says, ‘the Plague Wizard King of the first season… the hatchery of the Plague Beetles… Karkinos, Mother of Plague Beetles… second-level open-air platform…’ Damn it, this text is too fragmented. I can’t translate it now… Dean Fire-eye, bring me my pipe!”

Holimion quickly stopped the old Dwarf Prophet, persuading him, “Tutor, we will need your strength later. Let’s leave this ancient text to your apprentices… This is a ruin from over twenty thousand years ago. Aside from Black Blood demons and undead monsters, the original creatures should have long turned to dust. I think we’ll find more clues in the form of ancient text on the second-level open-air platform.”

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go to the second level now!” the sixth-tier Dwarf Prophet exclaimed impatiently.

The group continued forward. The empty corridor was cold and damp, and pitch blackness lay ahead. The footsteps of the Elven Empire’s warriors echoed down the passage, sounding exceptionally sharp and jarring. Besides the footprints of the human expeditionary team, there were no other signs of activity on the black moss-covered floor.

Holimion didn’t think there would be any danger ahead. As he walked, he commented, “This expeditionary team of foreign humans has ninety-four people, plus the adventurer Bobo, who doesn’t leave footprints. They also seem to have brought three large war beasts and over a dozen tamed dire wolves… The footprints of these large war beasts look a lot like Dragon-Lizards. Incredible. Could it be that humans have mastered the technique of taming Dragon-Lizards?”

“Human Wizards are primordial beings with Law-affinity. I wouldn’t be surprised if they could turn a small gecko into a Dragon-Lizard Beast,” the old dwarf said dismissively.

Holimion smiled and nodded. “This expeditionary team is likely bait sent out by a human Archwizard; their strength is far from comparable to the team in the underground tunnels. If they run into trouble and we happen upon them, we can lend a hand and rescue some of the stranded, using the opportunity to extend some goodwill to the Archwizard and the divine officials in the underground tunnels.”

The Elven Prince’s statement satisfied Sikodisi Windsong. They were determined to obtain the Goddess’s sacred object. If this conflicted with the human Archwizard’s objective, it would be best if they could resolve their differences through negotiation first. The tragic fate of the Goblin Lord near Silverhawk City had left an indelible, terrifying impression on her.

Sikodisi couldn’t understand what use the humans had for the Elves’ sacred object. She now believed that the human Archwizard’s target was likely the authority of Law that the Dark Elves desired. The potential for a burst of conflict was probably brought on by the Dark Elf priestess.

Glancing at the purple-eyed Dark Elf, who had remained silent all along, Elder Windsong turned her head to the Elven Prince and asked, “Does Your Highness think the human expeditionary team will meet with disaster on the upper levels of the temple?”

Holimion shook his head. “I think the upper levels of the temple should be safer than the underground tunnels… The tunnels might contain a considerable number of Ant-man monsters, who are naturally skilled at digging. As for the upper levels, this is a ruin from over twenty thousand years ago. Most of the giant beasts raised by the Azoretta Shamans have perished. Even if there are some powerful Black Blood demon species, their numbers will be small. We are more than capable of handling them.”

“If that’s the case, why did the human Archwizard take the lower path?” Elder Windsong retorted.

The beautiful and enchanting Dark Elf priestess let out a soft laugh and interjected, “Perhaps what the humans want is in the underground section, and what we want is also supposed to be underground. But what if I can lure those things up from below?”

“Lure them up?” Sikodisi’s sharp gaze fixed on the purple-haired, purple-eyed Sashirtana.

The Dark Elf priestess nodded nonchalantly and said with a smile, “It will be a Black Blood demon of the great lord rank. Both the Moon Goddess’s sacred object and the Spider Lady’s authority are inside it; otherwise, it would be impossible for it to exist in this world. As long as we are fast enough to kill it, retrieve the sacred object and the authority of Law, and then withdraw quickly, we won’t have to worry about clashing with the human Archwizard in the underground tunnels at all.”

Sikodisi lowered her eyelids and said coolly, “I hope so.”

The party of over two hundred reached a corner in the middle of the corridor. The Sunsfire Diamond on a dwarf guard’s helmet illuminated an upward sloping path. Footprints left by the human expeditionary team were visible inside—this was the entrance to the second level.

As they climbed the ramp, the towering giant Dwarf General, Zuknos Greyflame, who was at the very front of the party, suddenly stopped. He twitched his large nose and said in a booming voice, “I smell the scent of a Black Blood demon, but it’s already dead… There’s also a strange scent, very much like a dragon’s… That’s right, I’ve smelled a similar scent on the Emerald Dragon Clan near Aylanta.”

“The Emerald Dragon Clan? If the human Archwizard can create Dragon-Lizards, he can also create Dragon Beasts. I’m afraid he’s truly interested in the Law of Black Blood,” the Third Princess of Silverhawk City said pointedly.

Sashirtana pretended not to hear, but the old Dwarf Prophet yelled impatiently, “Damn it! Hurry up! Let’s hope the foreign humans and the Black Blood demon didn’t smash the inscribed stone tablets in the ruins!”

Although Prophet Fire-eye was anxious, the elven and dwarven troops remained sufficiently cautious. They stayed alert to their surroundings, carefully making their way up to the second level. Following the tracks left by the human expeditionary team, they approached the open-air platform. Neither the Elven Prince nor Elder Windsong could perceive any signs of living creatures nearby. Holimion said with ease, “The main force of the human Archwizard is in the lower tunnels. Even if this human expeditionary team has Dragon Beasts, their strength is average. The Black Blood demon they killed was likely not very powerful…”

Walking onto the second-level open-air platform, he saw the scene within, and the Elven Prince’s pupils instantly contracted, the expression on his face freezing.

“…Karkinos, Mother of Plague Beetles?!”

Chapter 804: Insectoid Demon

This open-air platform on the second floor of the temple was exceptionally wide, about a third the size of Silverhawk City’s central square—a space that could accommodate several thousand people. There were no railings at the platform’s edge. Snowflakes drifted down from the sky, blanketing its surface. The snow bore the clear marks of a battle, but right now, not a single elf or Dwarf was paying attention to the footprints left by the human expeditionary team. They were all staring blankly at the southern corner of the platform.

Lying there was a gigantic monster the size of a small mountain. Or rather, it looked like a cross between a tortoise, a beetle, and a rock. Its carapace was composed of jagged stone, covered in dark green moss and sprouting a thicket of thorny shrubs. Its head resembled that of an alligator snapping turtle, magnified several thousand times, its dark green, hooked beak glinting with a metallic luster. Beneath its belly grew six long legs that looked just like a beetle’s jointed limbs.

Such a colossal creature naturally exerted a mental pressure on other beings, and this one was grotesquely deformed. The combination of rock and flesh defied the common understanding of the elven warriors and Dwarf guards. The moss and thorns on its stone carapace painted a picture of the weight of ages upon its immense body.

All these features indicated that the monster before them had transcended the boundaries of normal life, leaving an unimaginably terrifying impression on the onlookers.

But it was dead.

Its heavy body lay overturned on the southern side of the platform, near the temple’s outer wall. Its six sharp, jointed legs were curled inward, and its vulnerable belly was torn open by two intersecting, horrific gashes. Thick, black blood, mixed with the entrails from its abdominal cavity, had spilled all over the ground, creating an exceedingly gruesome scene.

“…So this is an Abyss demon.” The Dark Elf Sashirtana was the first to regain her composure, her soft, charming voice tinged with a heart-rending note of helplessness and sorrow. She paused, then continued in a flat tone, “Abyss demons are chaotic, disorderly beings. Their forms are bizarre and varied. Once they enter the subterranean world, their life forms tend to stabilize, but you can still see the combination of an elemental state and a flesh-and-blood one, just like this demon before us—half rock, half flesh.”

The giant Dwarf, Zuknos Greyflame, hefted his fiery warhammer. “The demons I smashed to death near Aylanta didn’t look like this,” he boomed.

The beautiful Dark Elf priestess chuckled. “Demons that have infiltrated the surface world are no longer of the Abyss species, but the Black Blood species. They are very weak, and also very strong. However, the strength of Black Blood demons lies in their swarms, not in individuals. Aylanta shouldn’t just stand by and watch the Black Blood demon populations multiply and grow. This is knowledge from the underground cities.”

The Elven Prince tore his gaze away from the demon’s corpse, turned his head, and asked in a low voice, “Lady, what tier of demon would a Mother of Plague Beetles be considered in the subterranean kingdoms?”

Sashirtana considered for a moment, then nodded. “Judging by its size and degree of elementalization, it should be a Tier 6 demon chief. It would take half of an underground city’s standing army to eliminate it.”

A flicker of light passed through Holimion’s eyes. He waved a hand, signaling his gold-armored guards to move forward and survey the battlefield.

A moment later, a Wild Elf War Dancer with short hair and a sharp gaze returned to report, “Your Highness, the human expeditionary team must have passed through here two days ago. They mistook the hibernating Mother of Plague Beetles for a giant rock and paid it no mind at first. As they passed by, the startled Mother of Plague Beetles suddenly attacked them from behind.”

“The humans reacted quickly. Despite being caught off guard by the attack, they suffered no losses. A fierce battle then erupted. The Mother of Beetles primarily used a charging posture, leaving twenty-two straight collision marks on the ground. The human expeditionary team adopted skirmishing and encirclement tactics, but the Mother of Beetles’ defenses were extremely tough. The humans’ attacks only managed to chip off a few rocks and failed to inflict any real damage.”

“From the charge marks on the ground, I’ve determined that the Mother of Beetles was not very agile when turning, but its straight-line charges were incredibly swift. At one point, the humans were forced back into the corridor to evade its attacks. Perhaps because they couldn’t find a way around it, they returned to the platform, changed their tactics, and decided to face the Mother of Beetles head-on.”

“In the second fight, the humans lost one Dragon-Lizard and five warriors. They were all crushed to death against the sloping wall on the south side of the platform by the Mother of Beetles. The dents and cracks in that wall prove that the humans deliberately lured the Mother of Beetles into ramming the southern stone wall. On its sixth charge, the human expeditionary team seized their chance. One of their warriors struck the creature’s second right leg with a greatsword, causing it to alter its angle of impact with the wall. Its body tilted and overturned, exposing its relatively vulnerable belly. Immediately after, another powerful individual used a massive battleaxe to slice open the Mother of Beetles’ stomach and pulp its internal organs.”

The Sun Tree is eternal, and elven civilization is ancient and profound. Though the great houses and imperial dynasties of the Elven Empire would naturally be replaced like the leaves of the Sun Tree, any elven noble had the right to arrogantly look down on the fleeting civilizations of other races. Prince Holimion had disdained the human expedition from the bottom of his heart, but he trusted his adjutant’s combat experience and keen insight. He nodded and said, “I must admit, I underestimated the strength of this human expeditionary team.”

The elven adjutant added, “Prince Holimion, aside from the claw prints of the Dragon-Lizard, we have found no footprints belonging to a large Dragon Beast. The remaining battle traces on the platform also show no signs of a large Dragon Beast. In fact, the ones who killed the Mother of Beetles were two humans, one male and one female. Both are experts who possess a Heart of the Realm.”

“No sign of a Dragon Beast?” The Elven Prince frowned in thought, glanced at the giant Dwarf examining the demon’s corpse, and shook his head. “General Zuknos’s intuition is never wrong… The human expeditionary team must have some method we don’t know about. Let’s put the matter of the Dragon Beast aside for now. Kuitoni, assess the strength of the human expeditionary team’s ordinary warriors.”

“Yes, sir.” The elven adjutant nodded. “The ordinary human warriors who participated in this battle possess the agility of a Tier 3 War Dancer and the strength of a Tier 3 Dwarf Ridge Guard. Their combat techniques are masterful, their fighting style simple and practical. They can utilize both agility and strength simultaneously, not only without diminishing their individual power, but actually enhancing it. I assess them to be Mid-Tier 4 human warriors.”

“As for the experts with a Heart of the Realm, their actual combat strength is often higher than their combat profession tier. Based on the signs of battle at the scene, I assess the male human warrior to have a life tier of Mid-Tier 5, and the female warrior to have reached High-Tier 6.”

“Tier 5? Tier 6? Isn’t humanity’s life tier just Tier 1?” the young Third Princess of Silverhawk City asked curiously.

The Elven Prince’s lips twisted into a strained smile as he explained, “Primordial humans don’t have bloodline powers, so they are categorized as a Tier 1 intelligent species. However, among them are Wizards, those with an affinity for the Laws, who can be measured by combat profession tier. And there are also those with an affinity for elements, who can be measured by life tier… The lives of these element-affinity individuals gradually approach perfection, and they are born with a grasp of the Heart of the Realm. In ancient times, they were called Elementalists. Now, they are called Knights. A High-Tier 5 human male would be a Silver Knight, and a High-Tier 6 would be a powerful Gold Knight.”

“Prince Holimion, you seem to know a lot about the human kingdoms… Please, take a look at this. What do you make of it?” Sikodisi Windsong walked over and handed a piece of broken armor to the Elven Prince.

“Huh, it’s composite leather plate.” The old Dwarf Prophet unceremoniously snatched the tattered armor, turning it over in his hands to inspect it. “Isn’t it said that the crafting technique for composite leather plate was lost long ago in the human kingdoms? The outer layer looks like some kind of crocodile skin, poorly tanned… Am I seeing this right? The inner layer is Thorium vines? And the lining is Thorium python skin… No wonder it could retain its basic shape after such a severe impact. Strange, when did the human kingdoms master Thorium smelting technology again?”

The Dwarf Prophet from Aylanta had accidentally let slip what the Viel Great House knew about the state of human technology. Angris Windsong, however, didn’t seem to care about any of this, her expression cold as she looked at the Elven Prince.

Holimion coughed once and turned his gaze to his adjutant. “Is there no flesh or blood left on the equipment?” he asked.

The War Dancer, Kuitoni, nodded. “That’s right. We couldn’t find the remains of the human warriors. They didn’t even leave behind bloodstains, hair, or scraps of skin. There’s no trace of the Dragon-Lizard war beast’s flesh and blood either. I deduced that it had flattened several human warriors and a Dragon-Lizard based on the damaged equipment at the scene and the shape of the craters where the Mother of Beetles impacted the wall. But the fallen human warriors have vanished without a trace…”

A strange, sinister atmosphere unknowingly enveloped the hearts of every elven warrior and Dwarf guard. High-tier combat professionals had strong willpower and could resist the contamination of negative emotions from the herd mentality, but even they couldn’t explain this bizarre phenomenon.

“I suspect the flesh of the fallen humans was eaten by the demon,” the purple-haired, purple-eyed Dark Elf priestess said, striding toward the corpse of the Mother of Plague Beetles. “Abyss demons have chaotic and disorderly forms, but there is one unique branch of insectoid demons. They are known as the Gros Abyss Insectoids.”

“The ancestor of the Abyssal Insectoids was a powerful primordial being, which is why the Gros Insectoids can still maintain their basic insect characteristics despite being tainted by the Abyss’s black blood. However, their psionic authority was stripped away by the great Spider Lady and bestowed upon the Dark Elves of the underground cities. From then on, the Gros Abyss Insectoids were reduced to mere demons.”

“I recognize this Mother of Plague Beetles… It’s one of the Gros Abyss Insectoids, I’m sure of it!”

Zuknos the giant Dwarf’s tall, burly frame blocked the path to the Broodmother’s corpse. He looked down at the beautiful and bewitching Dark Elf and said in a heavy voice, “Lady, halt.”

Sashirtana just smiled, stopped, and turned to the others. “The Gros Abyss Insectoids lost their ruling psionic power and became a disorderly mob. But they still rely on numbers to win…” Her tone shifted as she asked, “Don’t you all think this Mother of Plague Beetles is a bit too weak? As an independent demon chief, where is its bloodline power?”

The Third Princess said in surprise, “A Plague Beetle hatchery? It’s a Broodmother, and it hatched many Plague Beetles?”

The Dark Elf priestess nodded and mused, “When demons acquire a stable life form, they develop commensurate wisdom… An insect’s wisdom is the lowest. Without powerful bloodline abilities, they aren’t that frightening. The Mother of Plague Beetles’ strongest weapon must be the Plague Beetles themselves.”

“I have another question. This demon chief couldn’t have lived for over ten thousand years. I need to know its specific life cycle to determine if there are any intelligent species active in Asoerta Temple.”

The giant Dwarf General shook his head and said loudly, “You can observe the Mother of Beetles’ corpse, but don’t do anything else. It has been marked by the dragon. The moment you touch it, the dragon will see you.”

Sashirtana ignored the giant Dwarf’s warning and turned her gaze to the Elven Prince, a half-smile on her face. “My handsome little prince, according to our agreement, the Elven Empire will assist me in recovering the power of the Black Blood Law. To be honest, this Mother of Plague Beetles has something I want. What do you think?”

Holimion thought for a moment, then nodded. “The agreement between the Dark Elves and the High Council is valid. Lady, please, go ahead… General Greyflame, let the Lady cast her spell. We will stand guard.”

“…I’m just looking out for you,” Zuknos grumbled as he stepped aside.

Sashirtana walked up to the giant insect corpse, took out a gray, fist-sized crystal from her black robes, and held it in her beautiful, pale hands while chanting a Dark Elf spell. Her long purple hair flew back like a spreading spiderweb, adding a strange, bewitching allure to her delicate face. Streams of black, misty light seeped from the Mother of Beetles’ corpse, flowing like water toward the gray crystal cradled in the Dark Elf’s hands.

Just then, Sikodisi Windsong called out a warning, “Watch your feet! Something’s coming out!”

A small mound of snow bulged on the open-air platform, and a black beetle about the size of a Dwarf’s head burrowed out, whirring its wings and screeching at the nearest elven warrior.

“My, what a big beetle! Watch me smash you into a pancake!”

A nearby Dwarf guard swung his femur-breaker at the black beetle. The beetle actually vibrated its elytra and nimbly dodged the Dwarf’s weapon. But while it was still in midair, an elven warrior’s curved sword struck it squarely, sending it flying.

The elven warrior glanced at his curved sword and shook his head. “I didn’t damage it. It’s tough. Everyone, be careful.”

The black beetle wasn’t good at flying and landed directly at the feet of another elven warrior. She raised her exquisitely crafted metal war boot to stomp on it, but was instead knocked off balance by the beetle.

“Haha, it’s got some strength! Watch my Ironfoot!” A red-bearded Dwarf guard ran over, used his innate combat technique, and stomped the black beetle into a pulp.

The Elven Prince’s expression was grave. He gave a decisive order, “Close ranks! Gather here and form a defensive formation! Buy time for Lady Sashirtana!”

Mounds of snow bulged up across the ground as dense swarms of black beetles burrowed out from beneath. As far as the eye could see, there were thousands of them, with even more waking up underground. Vibrating their elytra, they leaped rapidly, pouncing on a heavily armored Dwarf guard who had fallen behind. Their sharp mandibles tore through the Dwarf’s armor and skin. Within the space of a few breaths, the Dwarf guard’s screams stopped as he was completely covered by the dense swarm. Two of his companions who tried to help him were also attacked. Fortunately, they managed to retreat to the defensive circle in time, escaping a fatal end. But their faces were turning a bruised, dark color, and their limbs were weak—clear signs of poison.

Dozens of sharp arrows, carrying the elves’ fury, shot toward the dense swarm. Raging torrents of air swirled and howled, kicking up beetles, snow, and the humus where the eggs had incubated. But the effect was minimal. Very few of the Plague Beetles were pierced through, and the vast majority were unharmed. The buzzing of their vibrating elytra merged into a single drone as they ferociously charged the elves’ and dwarves’ defensive circle.

Corona Moondew and the two princesses of Aylanta exchanged a look. Each took a handful of seeds from their leather pouches, and a gust of wind scattered them across the entire platform. The Shamans of the Moon Goddess raised their staffs and chanted an elven spell. The seeds grew wildly, sending out fine, tough vines that took root in the ground and tightly bound the Plague Beetles one by one.

“The Vine Spell won’t hold them for long! We can’t just sit here and wait to be killed! More Plague Beetles will emerge. Let’s use this time to finish these off! My Lady Sikodisi, be wary of… the dragon.”

The giant Dwarf General was the first to leap out of the defensive circle. His huge body fell like a boulder into the middle of a group of beetles. With a tremendous boom, the snow, instead of flying upward as expected, was crushed to the ground by an invisible force, along with hundreds of Plague Beetles, which were pulverized into dust.

The Hill Guardian’s Thunderous Slam instantly triggered the power of the earth, creating a downward earth element force field in an area. It lasted for several seconds, dealing concussive damage and inflicting a slowing effect.

An Extraordinary Knight’s earth domain had a similar effect, and though it lasted longer and the force field’s direction was more variable, its power was inferior to the Thunderous Slam.

There were not many dwarves who could master Thunderous Slam. Most Ridge Guards could only use their Ironfoot combat technique to stomp the Plague Beetles one by one. The Wind Dancers, on the other hand, manifested void wind elements to slice through the large beetles’ hard carapaces. It looked easy, but it actually consumed a great deal of vigor, because there were simply too many Plague Beetles, with new ones continuously welling up from underground.

After clearing out an area, the Elven Empire’s forces once again tightened their defensive line,

Prince Holimion unleashed a secret technique—Storm Blade. Layers of cerulean wind blades bloomed like a flower in full fury, annihilating over a hundred black beetles in a single sweep. After this, he too retreated into the defensive circle to recover his vigor. Only the giant Dwarf General remained outside, tirelessly swinging his fiery warhammer to smash beetles into pancakes, occasionally using a Thunderous Slam to shake off all the beetles crawling on him and the ground nearby.

The three Shamans of the Moon Goddess had their Vine Spell ready again, and the elves and dwarves employed the same tactic, but the Plague Beetles seemed endless. No matter how many the Elven Empire’s warriors killed, they couldn’t seem to finish them off.

“Damn it! I don’t believe the human expeditionary team had the strength to get past the Plague Beetle incubation area, unless these Plague Beetles never attacked them at all!” the Elven Prince said, his face ashen.

Sikodisi Windsong, who had yet to make a move, did not respond to the Elven Prince’s complaint. More than ten warriors had already died under the mandibles of the Plague Beetles, not including the injured elves and dwarves receiving treatment. The Tier 7 Wind Dancer could finally no longer contain the storm within her heart. She called upon the omnipresent wind elements, forming them into sharp wind arrows that pierced dozens of Plague Beetles at once.

Sikodisi’s minute control over the wind element had reached a state of perfection; the Elven Prince could only marvel in admiration. But the foremost expert of Silverhawk City was not satisfied with her results. An impatient look crossed her beautiful face as she once again manipulated the wind element, forming unceasing currents of air that blew swarms of black beetles off the cliff.

The Plague Beetles were strong and tough. They could leap but were not skilled flyers. It would likely take them a very long time to fall off the cliff and climb back up.

Sikodisi glanced at the Dark Elf priestess and saw that she was still siphoning the Law of Black Blood from the Mother of Plague Beetles, completely unconcerned with the casualties among the Elven Empire’s warriors. A flicker of anger ignited within her.

The temper of a high-tier Moon Elf combat professional was actually worse than that of the dwarves, who spent all day shouting at the top of their lungs. Sikodisi and the three Shamans of the Moon Goddess were very displeased right now, but they could only vent their storm-like rage on the Plague Beetles.

The giant Dwarf General, who had been hammering away at the Plague Beetles, suddenly stopped and looked up toward the top of the temple’s sloped wall. A sense of alarm rose in Sikodisi’s heart. She glanced over and saw a slender, graceful figure standing on the edge of the fifth-floor platform.

She wore a leather bustier, a knee-length battle skirt, and high-top war boots, revealing large swathes of fair, smooth skin. On her head was a horned helm with a grilled faceplate that covered her eyes. The curve of her half-visible face was breathtakingly beautiful. In her hand, she carried a massive, crescent-bladed axe.

Sikodisi finally knew what weapon had killed the Mother of Plague Beetles. But at this moment, she had no room for other thoughts. Just being watched by this person subjected her to a heavy pressure—an emotion called fear. It was as if a terrifying giant beast was hidden within the other’s slender, well-proportioned body.

Seeing the Moon Elf take a deep breath, the air swirling and surging around her, the horned-helmed human woman tilted her head. Her gorgeous red lips curved into a smile of keen interest, as if she were admiring Sikodisi’s power.

The fierce air currents on the platform collectively changed direction, flowing from south to north, shifting from violent to gentle. A soft breeze swept across the entire platform. The innumerable Plague Beetles all began to tremble. They curled up their limbs, struggled feebly a few times, then flipped onto their backs and stopped moving.

The elves and dwarves stared in bewilderment at the Plague Beetles that had suddenly lost their lives, while the mysterious human woman vanished from the edge of the temple’s fifth floor.

The few high-tier combat professionals were all lost in thought. Only after Sashirtana completed her ritual did they gather to discuss what had just happened.

“That was a pure-blood Dragonkin just now. I saw it,” Prince Holimion said first.

Sikodisi nodded slightly and added, “It must be the bloodline of an ancient blue dragon… Just like in Silverhawk City, She has shown kindness toward the elves. Now, She has helped us again.”

The giant Dwarf General, shouldering his great warhammer, shook his head. “A good deed isn’t necessarily a sign of goodwill,” he said in his deep voice. “But She has acknowledged our strength.”

Holimion looked at Zuknos in confusion. “Lord Greyflame, you mean…”

The giant Dwarf interrupted the Elven Prince and said to the Dark Elf priestess, “Lady, you’ve been noticed by Her. From now on, you’d best be careful what you say.”

He paused, then added, “You don’t have to speak, but honesty is what’s most important.”

Chapter 805: The Four Seasons Wizard King

The Giant Dwarf General issued a warning, and Sashirtana gazed into his grey pupils, where she could almost see molten iron boiling and churning. The other high-tier combat professionals also wore cold expressions, consciously or unconsciously forming a circle around the Dark Elf priestess.

In the previous battle, the Elven Empire’s forces had lost nineteen elite members. The commanders believed this was inextricably linked to the Dark Elf priestess’s ritual to claim the Law of Black Blood from the Mother of Plague Beetles. Otherwise, why hadn’t the Plague Beetles crawled out to attack when the human expeditionary team passed through the hatchery?

The Dark Elf priestess had previously pointed out that the flesh and blood of the human dead had been devoured by the beetles. She clearly knew that countless Plague Beetles lay beneath the hatchery, yet not only did she fail to warn her companions, she insisted on performing the ritual.

The high-tier combat professionals, including the Elven Prince, all suspected that the Dark Elf had deliberately used the Elven warriors and Dwarf guards as sacrifices. It was inevitable that they would feel dissatisfied and resentful toward this “main culprit.”

On the surface, Zuknos Greyflame was reminding the Dark Elf priestess that she had been targeted by a powerful Dragonkin and needed to be extremely careful in her words and actions. In truth, he was threatening her: do not try to direct their next moves. Either let the Elven Empire’s commanders make their own judgments, or state the facts as they were. Otherwise, if she were killed by the human expedition’s Wizard and Dragonkin, the Elven Empire would be powerless to help.

Sashirtana Moonglow’s beauty was on par with that of the Moon Elves, but where Moon Elves shared a cold pride, the purple-haired, purple-eyed Dark Elf possessed a natural charm and a mutable temperament. At this moment, alone and isolated, surrounded by commanders from the Empire’s prominent families, Sashirtana appeared frail, helpless, and pitiably lovely.

This, however, was a testament to the fact that the Dark Elf priestess could still effortlessly wield her natural charm while under pressure from the high-tier combat professionals. In fact, Sashirtana found the reactions of the elves and dwarves quite novel and interesting.

In the Underground City, the Spider Lady ruled the subterranean world through Her psionic network. The core talents of the Dark Elves ranged from charm to enslavement; they enslaved subterranean creatures, demons, and even fellow Dark Elves. Of course, this was given a different name: a female master was called a Matron, and the Dark Elves who obeyed her were her spouses and children. The supreme ruler of the Underground City was the Grand Matron, followed by the great houses, and then the individual families. The political ecosystem of the subterranean nation was composed of these families, with psionic dominance—not blood ties or familial affection—determining status and subservience.

The strict hierarchy of the Elven Empire was nothing in the eyes of the Underdark’s inhabitants. Above Sashirtana was a Matron, and below her were her obedient children and slaves. She had rivals of equal rank, but not a single companion.

The relationship between the elves of Aylanta and Silverhawk City was something foreign to Sashirtana. Nevertheless, the Dark Elf priestess, on her first venture to the surface world, was able to get along harmoniously in a completely unfamiliar environment with strange elves, dwarves, halflings, and forest centaurs, all thanks to her racial talent for perceiving emotional shifts.

Although the Giant Dwarf General was furious, he had not let his emotions run so wild as to kill her, and the same was true for the Elven Prince and Sikodisi. Their anger seemed to stem more from the vexation of being deceived by a companion. This meant they still considered the Dark Elf priestess one of them.

Sashirtana found this both amusing and felt a strange flutter in her heart. She also perceived a subtle emotional fluctuation among her “companions”—a mix of frustration and shame born from a blow to their confidence. The shock of seeing the human expedition’s Dragonkin expert effortlessly annihilate thousands of Plague Beetles had shattered the arrogance of the high-tier combat professionals, so they redirected their anger onto the Dark Elf.

Regardless, being doubted and ostracized by “companions” was never pleasant. Sashirtana decided it was necessary to clear up their misunderstanding of her.

She had been wronged.

From beginning to end, Sashirtana could not understand why the Plague Beetles had not joined their Broodmother in attacking the human expeditionary team. If the Broodmother had summoned the beetles to fight from the start, showcasing the full strength of the Gros Insectoid Demons, the human team would not have passed through so easily.

The Broodmother’s death had led her to mistakenly believe there were no Plague Beetles nearby. The reality was the opposite, a complete contradiction of the Dark Elf priestess’s established knowledge of Insectoid Demons. She had a faint feeling that an invisible hand was manipulating the situation from the shadows.

However, Sashirtana could not directly explain the situation to her “companions.” The Giant Dwarf General’s discovery that the human expedition’s Dragonkin had its eyes on her was no empty threat. Through the unique telepathy of a Dark Elf priestess, Sashirtana had detected a special kind of Mental Link on the mysterious Dragonkin, one that seemed to point to an even more powerful existence.

Perhaps, She was listening in on the Elven commanders’ conversation right now.

“Thank you for the reminder, Lord Greyflame. I understand.”

Sashirtana first nodded to the Giant Dwarf, then lifted her amethyst eyes to scan the crowd, her voice soft as she said, “During the process of collecting the Law of Black Blood, I discovered something strange. This Mother of Plague Beetles was less than three hundred years old… I would like to confirm again, is this truly a temple ruin from ten thousand years ago?”

The old Dwarf Prophet immediately huffed loudly, “Purple-haired young lady, are you doubting the academic expertise of old Fantewell Fire-eye? If you weren’t a scrawny little lady, I’d give you a good whack with my big pipe… I swear on my beautiful white beard, the writing on the walls of the temple’s first floor is a variant of the ancient elven script, dating back about twenty thousand years… The civilization founded by the Azoretta people also has a history of over twenty thousand years, but the Yasurta Empire fell one thousand five hundred years ago. This means the temple is at least ten thousand years old, and was only abandoned by the Azoretta people one thousand five hundred years ago… Er, something doesn’t seem right. Purple-haired young lady, are you sure that stone bug was less than three hundred years old?”

Sashirtana didn’t argue with the stubborn old Dwarf. She smiled and said, “Perhaps my judgment was flawed… Master Fire-eye, do you happen to know where the Azoretta people went?”

“…Dug a hole and hid themselves?”

The fall of the Yasurta Empire did not mean the Azoretta people were extinct. This was an obvious truth.

Sikodisi Windsong interjected, “Lady Moonglow, are you saying that the Azoretta people are still making offerings at this temple?”

Sashirtana shook her head. “I don’t know what the Azoretta people are doing… but I am certain this temple has been occupied by a powerful demon. Before I entered, I was prepared to encounter demons and undead, but the Mother of Plague Beetles was not undead; it was a living Abyssal demon. So, who is sustaining it?”

The Elven Prince exhaled, his voice heavy. “My lady, are you suggesting that some faction within the temple is cultivating and controlling the Mother of Plague Beetles?”

The Dark Elf priestess simply smiled without speaking. She had already expressed all she needed to. With the wisdom of high-tier combat professionals, it would not be difficult for them to deduce the possibility that the Plague Beetles’ attack on the Elven forces was deliberately orchestrated by the temple’s original inhabitants.

Herimion pondered for a moment before proposing, “Let’s leave this place for now. We’ll make a plan on the second level of the temple.”

No one objected to the Elven Prince’s suggestion. The imperial forces collected the remains of their fallen comrades but did not clean up the battlefield, forgoing the opportunity to harvest biological materials from the demon beetles. They quickly left the hatchery platform and headed for the passageway to the temple’s second level.

As soon as the troop entered the dark, damp corridor, the Giant Dwarf General immediately ordered his subordinates to spread out and stand guard. Then, he snatched the recently lit “small” pipe from the old Dwarf Prophet’s hand. With a single puff, the herbs in the bowl burned to ash, and he exhaled a pale blue smoke that enveloped a small area.

The old Dwarf snatched back his beloved large pipe, glaring at the Giant Dwarf General and muttering, “…This smoke barrier’s perception-dampening effect won’t be any better than what I can exhale, and it will last for a quarter-hour at most.”

“That’s enough.” Zuknos’s deep voice didn’t cause so much as a ripple in the smoke. “Back when we were at the foot of the hill, Lady Sikodisi and I sensed someone spying on us. Although Lady Sikodisi later believed the spying had stopped, the hill was telling me that I had been locked onto by some entity. That’s why I specially asked Prophet Fire-eye to prepare a smoke barrier when we were discussing our plans in the tent.”

Sikodisi Windsong nodded and added, “The means of spying on us was similar to Wind Whisper, using the wind element to perceive information about the surroundings. A method like that, from start to finish, cannot escape my notice… You should be able to understand why I would suspect it was one of the Empire’s High Elves, especially one from Aylanta.” She paused, then added, “That is why I never raised the alarm, nor did I have any intention of pursuing the matter.”

Herimion hurriedly said, “I guarantee that Aylanta did not send any other high-tier Moon Elf combat professionals to follow us.”

Sikodisi’s lips curved into a smile. Her ice-blue, crystalline eyes appraised the handsome Greater Elf as she said bluntly, “Little prince, you cannot guarantee that.”

Herimion was instantly abashed, rendered speechless. Aylanta’s overall strength was a hundred times that of Silverhawk City. It would be a simple matter for the Elven Empress Regnant to send a Tier 7 Wind Walk Archer to secretly follow her beloved son, without needing to inform anyone else in the party.

Elder Windsong’s expression returned to its usual cool composure as she continued, “What happened today has convinced me that the spy is from the human expeditionary team… That Dragonkin possesses the bloodline of an ancient blue dragon, and her control over the wind element is no worse than that of a High Moon Elf.”

The old Dwarf Prophet shook his head, looking puzzled. “That’s strange. Ancient dragons disappeared long ago. How could a human Legendary Wizard obtain the blood of an ancient blue dragon to create such a powerful pure-blood Dragonkin? Even if he had blue dragon blood, it wouldn’t be enough. He would still need the corresponding… cough, cough, cough! This smoke barrier Greyflame exhaled is too pungent, too pungent!”

Fantewell Fire-eye had changed the subject just in time, avoiding leaking the Elven Empire’s secrets of creating non-human races in front of the Dark Elf priestess.

Sashirtana sneered inwardly. The old Dwarf Prophet’s mutterings were nonsensical and of no help to their next course of action.

If the old Dwarf were her slave and dared to waste her time with an unanswerable question, Sashirtana would have made sure he tasted the pain of a mind blast.

To the Dark Elf, Fire-eye’s recent change of topic was simply selfish. Driven by her own selfish Nature, she withheld the secret of the human Dragonkin’s Mental Link to some other entity, saying only, “Besides the human expedition team spying on us, I suspect the temple’s inhabitants are also watching. For example, they had the Mother of Plague Beetles attack the human expedition, and then had the Plague Beetles attack our team.”

“They? What are you referring to?” Sikodisi asked.

Sashirtana swept aside a lock of her vibrant, long purple hair and said faintly, “A lesser demon lord, equivalent to a Tier 7 creature. Or perhaps the Plague Wizard King of the first season, or the Wizard King of the second, third, or final season.”

On the stone walls of the temple’s first-level passages, there were written records about the Plague Wizard King. Following this logic, the Azoretta people should have three other Wizard Kings, corresponding to Summer, Autumn, and Winter.

The Elven Prince fell silent for a moment, then frowned and asked, “What is the reason for the temple’s inhabitants to treat the human expedition and us so differently? We have clearly received special treatment…”

The Giant Dwarf General rumbled, “The human expeditionary team did not collect the Law of Black Blood from the Mother of Plague Beetles, while we must assist the Dark Elf lady in collecting the authority of the Law of Black Blood within this temple.”

A charming smile touched the priestess’s lips as she nodded her thanks to the Giant Dwarf General.

Whether the humans had no need for it or no ability to take it, their powerlessness over the authority of the Law of Black Blood proved that Sashirtana’s objective did not conflict with theirs. She was not a potential factor to anger the human expeditionary team.

The Dragonkin expert’s method of annihilating the beetle swarm in a single move had drastically increased the combat professionals’ estimation of the human expedition. If Sashirtana were a competitor to the human Wizard, she would have represented an additional, unseen risk for the Elven forces.

Zuknos Greyflame, possessing a mind far more delicate than his size would suggest, said in a deep voice, “The humans’ Dragonkin is not as powerful as she looked… She helped us once, but that also caused the temple’s inhabitants to misjudge our strength, which may lead us into greater danger later. But we must do what we have to do. If we perform well, the human expeditionary team may continue to help us.”

“Lord Greyflame, what do you believe the humans’ purpose is?” the young Elven Prince couldn’t help but ask.

“The smoke barrier’s effect is about to end. We should go.” The Giant Dwarf General strode out of the thinning smoke, leaving a broad, solid back for the others to gaze at.

“Perhaps they have no purpose… We will find out.”

In the underground tunnels, the fourth tomb ruin.

It was the same simple and clean great hall, the same pool of black mud, the same black glazed rock altar of the same size, and the same desiccated corpse wearing a feathered crown. The only difference was the ancient text on the side of the altar.

The Dwarf Prophet with the grey beard, Aigelo, could now recognize the writing of the Azoretta people. He was splayed out before the altar, laughing with excitement. “Haha! This time, the Shaman’s offering isn’t a blood descendant of the Despair Wizard King. The altar says, ‘The End of the Four Seasons, sovereign of withering and rebirth. In the name of the Wither Wizard King, an offering is made to the All Spirits, the fourth key to open the Realm of All Spirits.’ The three tombs we found before were all for the Despair Wizard King, the third of the four seasons. Now this one is for the Wither Wizard King, the last of the four seasons. Does that mean there will be Wizard Kings representing the first season, Spring, and the second, Summer? Are these four Wizard Kings the keys to entering the Realm of All Spirits?”

The Tree Elf Olavi Moonsong sneered as he polished his gleaming, curved sword, “I have no desire to enter the Realm of All Spirits. That’s a place for the dead… Greybeard, what are you so happy about?”

The Dwarf Prophet was momentarily at a loss for words, but before he could retort, Iluth Moonsong spoke first, “If Winter is ‘wither’ and Autumn is ‘despair,’ what could Spring and Summer be?”

Victor stood with his arms crossed, his mood quite cheerful. He smiled brightly and said, “We’re getting closer and closer to the truth. We will see.”

He thought to himself: The first season is the Plague Wizard King… Wither, Plague, and Despair. Three of the four seasons now have a Wizard King. What name will the second Wizard King have?

Chapter 806: The Four Keys

The tomb was dark and gloomy, the air filled with a foul, decaying stench. Yet, the fifteen young Silverhawk scouts were talking and laughing inside, their mood light and cheerful.

A smile played on Iluth Moonsong’s lips as she calmly watched her subordinates inspect the tomb. Although their exploration of the tunnel had yet to yield any substantial progress, they hadn’t encountered a single Undead Creature. Instead, they had found many lizards and birds that had slipped through cracks in the rock walls to nest for the winter. This was enough to show that the tunnel, carved into the mountainside by Ant-man undead, was relatively safe.

When exploring an unfamiliar area, nothing was more reassuring to a commander than a relatively safe environment.

General Moonsong commanded over a thousand subordinates, but only these fifteen elites had been chosen by her, willing to accompany her on this adventure. They were young, bold, and ambitious, but that didn’t mean they were reckless, ignorant, or unafraid of death. These young combat professionals all had their own goals and were willing to take risks to achieve them. For instance, the Dwarf Yudrit and his countrymen wanted to save their gravely ill little sister; Prophet Aigelo and the adventurer Qiqi hoped to enrich their knowledge and hone their skills by exploring the ancient ruins of Asoerta, thereby raising their combat profession tier; and the Wild Elves and Tree Elves were all eager for a chance to enhance their Bloodlines.

Of course, Iluth Moonsong had her own reasons for planning this expedition. However, having learned the Breath of the Moon Goddess, her main goal had been achieved. Unfortunately, this precious breathing method had been designed by Nightingale specifically for her, so she couldn’t teach it to the other elves, let alone the dwarves and halflings.

Since her companions’ goals had not yet been realized, Iluth couldn’t possibly choose to retreat, even if greater dangers awaited them.

As for Mr. Nightingale, his strength was immense, and the Breath of the Moon Goddess he had created was a priceless treasure. Yet, he hadn’t been able to remedy the defect of his ears. This was likely because his race had wandered the outside world for too long, and even the Breath of the Moon Goddess he’d pioneered couldn’t help him restore his bloodline’s power. He could only rely on a sacred object of the Moon God or the blessing of the Sun Tree to enhance his High Elf bloodline.

For this very reason, Mr. Nightingale was unlikely to abandon the expedition, nor would he help the other Silverhawk scouts modify their own breathing methods. Until he achieved his goal, he needed companions and helpers.

In truth, Iluth had considered whether Nightingale might be a leader of the human expeditionary team. But the other members of her squad, especially the three Tree Elves, were captivated by his noble Moon Elf bloodline. Elves could never mistake a High Elf for anything else. Even if Nightingale was connected to the human expedition, he was still a Tier 7 Greater Elf known as the Son of the Moon God, beloved and ardently supported by the subjects of the Elven Empire.

On this point alone, the Silverhawk scouts would follow him first and only then consider whether his actions might endanger their companions. Iluth was powerless to change her companions’ opinion of Mr. Nightingale.

His “short-ears” are actually quite handsome… Iluth thought to herself, gazing at Nightingale’s flawless profile.

Seeing Nightingale’s gaze turn towards her, the Wild Elf General smiled and said, “My lord seems to be in a good mood. Have you made a new discovery?”

Victor was indeed in a great mood. Not only because he had found information about the Wither Wizard King in this tomb, but more importantly, he had used his Dragonkin handmaiden Mewen and the Nemesis talent to spy on the Dark Elf priestess, Sashirtana.

Among all the Dragonkin handmaidens, Mewen was the most special. She manifested the Blue Dragon Bloodline and was naturally attuned to the Elemental Sea of Wind, which overlapped with Victor’s own domain. The Mental Link between them was stronger than with the other three Dragonkin handmaidens, and the information transmitted was much clearer. Through Mewen, Victor could use all his Transcendent combat skills related to the wind element, including Wind Walk, Blind Sense, Nemesis, Raging Wind Domain, Chilling Wind, Grasp of the Wind Djinn, and Wings of the Wind Sprite.

The strength of Mewen’s team was in no way inferior to that of Imoson the Wizard’s. In fact, The Randell Expeditionary Force was backed by two Sanctuary-rank experts: the Raging Wind Sword Saint and the God-favored Miller. Since Father Miller was watching over the part of the Randell Expeditionary Force surveying the temple’s underground, Victor naturally had to look after the squad commanded by Narsen and Mewen.

However, in Victor’s eyes, Narsen’s team, including the two knights Brandon and Klaus, were a bunch of incompetents. Their adaptability and combat skills were fine, but when it came to archaeology, they were completely in the dark. In contrast, Father Dane and Imoson the Wizard, down in the temple’s lower levels, were at least the scholarly type, and the little wizard Beldina could sense the Alchemical Empire’s Elemental Rune Crystals. As long as the Elemental Rune Crystal controlling the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower was hidden beneath the temple, Bel should have no trouble finding it.

Victor now believed things weren’t that simple. The information about the Four Seasons Wizard King alluded to the four great elements that constituted the world—earth, fire, wind, and water. The four Wizard Kings, in turn, represented the four keys to opening the Realm of All Spirits. This gave him a faint feeling that the Realm of All Spirits overlapped with the physical world, and the Asoerta Temple was very likely the node where the two planes converged.

Victor had a bold hypothesis: could the clues to the Elemental Rune Crystal be hidden within the Realm of All Spirits?

The upper levels of the temple contained a vast amount of ancient texts and artifacts that could reveal many secrets, but he couldn’t count on Narsen’s team of academic dunces, nor could he monitor Mewen all day. In reality, Blind Sense, Nemesis, and even Wind Whisper had a drawback: they could discern the shape of objects but not their color. Victor could observe carved inscriptions through Mewen’s Blind Sense, but he was helpless when it came to pigmented writing or paintings.

Fortunately, the elven reinforcements tailing Narsen’s squad could solve this problem. They had a knowledgeable Dwarf Prophet and a mysterious Dark Elf priestess. All Mewen had to do was spy on them from time to time to obtain a wealth of valuable information.

The Dark Elves of the subterranean world were the Elven Empire’s first line of defense against the demons of the Abyss. The appearance of a Black Blood demon near Aylanta indicated that something had gone wrong in their underground kingdom. It was a reasonable assumption that the Dark Elves would be discussing countermeasures with their surface-dwelling relatives.

Victor wasn’t too surprised to find a Dark Elf priestess among the elven reinforcements. Through the elven commander’s dialogue and by locking onto her with Mewen’s Nemesis, he had confirmed Sashirtana’s identity as a Dark Elf. The Dark Elf lady had long, wavy hair that fell to her hips, clearly distinguishing her from the other four Moon Elves.

Her absorption of the Law of Black Blood from the Mother of Plague Beetles had truly astonished Victor.

Although Sashirtana’s motive was still unclear, her actions would inevitably shatter the internal balance of the Asoerta Temple and even affect the Realm of All Spirits, including the Black Blood Sovereign, the Lord of Sorrow, and the Ant-man Empress. The worst-case scenario was that the Dark Elf priestess would absorb the authority of the Law from the Black Blood Sovereign deep within the temple, allowing the will of the Ant-man Empress to escape the Realm of All Spirits and return to her people.

However, upon deeper reflection, the Dark Elf priestess shattering the internal balance of the Asoerta Temple wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

First, the Assyrian Empire collapsed 1,500 years ago. Trapping the will of the Ant-man Empress in the Realm of All Spirits was the only method the Assyrian Wizard King had employed, rather than using the Elemental Rune Crystal prepared by the Secret Order. In other words, if the Elemental Rune Crystal could have dealt with the Ant-man Empress, the Assyrians would have used it back when the Ant-man Alchemy Tower went out of control.

From this, two possibilities arose: first, the Elemental Rune Crystal was ineffective against the Ant-man Empress; second, the Assyrians were unable to use the Elemental Rune Crystal to control the Ant-man Alchemy Tower.

The first possibility could be dismissed, as it led nowhere. Victor could only lean towards the second: the Assyrians were unable to use the Elemental Rune Crystal.

Perhaps the Assyrian Shamans didn’t meet the conditions for using the Elemental Rune Crystal. Or perhaps the crystal had been lost, or had even fallen into the hands of the Ant-man Empress herself, preventing the Alchemists of the Secret Order from shutting down the Ant-man Alchemy Tower in time, leaving the Assyrians to fight the out-of-control Ant-man plague.

Without a doubt, the chances of Victor finding the Elemental Rune Crystal in the temple ruins were minuscule. Information and clues were what mattered most.

If there were no clues on the temple’s surface, then the spirits in the Realm of All Spirits should know what had happened.

Victor believed that the prerequisite for the temple’s balance to be broken was that it was already on the verge of breaking. The Black Blood Sovereign had once sent a distress signal to Imosen, indicating that Her situation was not ideal. Victor didn’t know how much longer the Black Blood Sovereign could hold on, but he believed this operation was an opportunity created for him by the God-favored Miller.

The meeting of The Randell Expeditionary Force and the Elven Empire’s troops at the Asoerta Temple was no coincidence. Even if Victor were to stand by and do nothing, the Dark Elf priestess would still absorb the authority of the Black Blood Sovereign’s Law, thereby shattering the balance within the temple and even the Realm of All Spirits. And even if Victor thwarted the Elven Empire’s operation and killed the Dark Elf priestess, the Empire would simply send another to carry out the mission.

Because the Abyss demons’ third invasion of the material plane was about to begin, the issues with the Ant-man Alchemy Tower, the temple demons, and the Undead Creatures had reached a point where they had to be resolved. Victor was willing to break the balance of the Realm of All Spirits if necessary.

Of course, Victor didn’t want Sashirtana to absorb the demon’s Law too quickly; he still needed to search for more clues inside and outside the temple. So, he caused a little trouble for the elven troops. Through Mewen, he unleashed Chilling Wind, eliminating several thousand Plague Beetles at once. But the timing of Victor’s secret move was clever, coinciding exactly with when Sikodisi was about to deal with the beetles. Thus, the Tier 7 Wind Walk Archer ended up taking the blame. Predictably, the claws of the Black Blood Sovereign would now desperately try to intercept the elven forces, delaying their progress and buying more time for Narsen and the others to search for clues.

The anomaly brought about by the Dark Elf priestess wasn’t entirely under his control, but he could at least influence it. Iluth Moonsong didn’t understand the full picture, and Victor had no need to explain the truth to the Silverhawk scouts around him. He simply nodded and said, “I’ve noticed something interesting. We’ve found four Asoertan Shaman tombs so far, and they’re all more or less the same inside. However, I’ve observed that the first three tombs all contained altars to the Despair Wizard King, and the heads of the mummies on the altars are all facing the same point.”

Upon hearing this, the Dwarf Aigelo immediately stood up and said loudly, “What? Lord Nightingale, what do you mean the mummies’ heads are pointing to a single spot?”

Victor first circled the obsidian altar in the tomb, then looked up and said, “I mean that the mummies on the altars in the tombs of the Despair Wizard King are indicating a specific location. The straight lines their heads are pointing along will converge at a point about thirteen kilometers away. I suspect that’s another underground space.”

The Tree Elf Angris Windsong looked at Victor with reverence and nodded. “My lord, you’re truly remarkable.” Then she furrowed her slender brows and asked in confusion, “But if the Azoretta people built their tombs inside the mountain, how did they determine their orientation?”

The elves naturally assumed that the Son of the Moon God could see the trajectories of spatial changes through rock barriers, but on what grounds could the Azoretta people determine direction inside a mountain cave?

The tombs connected by the mountain tunnel were in different locations, at different elevations, and had rock barriers obstructing the line of sight. Each black glazed rock altar had to be angled precisely to point towards a single underground space.

It was undoubtedly an incredible feat.

The Silverhawk scouts couldn’t verify Nightingale’s claim, yet Anglise accepted his discovery while questioning the ability of the Azoretta people who built these tombs.

Why could a Greater Elf determine direction in an underground environment, but the Azoretta people couldn’t?

If the Azoretta people couldn’t do it, wouldn’t that mean Mr. Nightingale had made a mistake?

The elves’ arrogance was on full display in that moment. Their double standard left Victor unsure whether to laugh or cry. Shaking his head, he said, “I suspect the Asoertan Shamans used the Realm of All Spirits to select the locations for their tomb altars. If my guess is correct, the Realm of All Spirits overlaps with this area… The four keys to the Realm of All Spirits should refer to the four underground spaces indicated by the mummies on the tomb altars, representing the four main tombs of the Four Seasons Wizard Kings.”

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go! A Wizard King’s tomb is sure to have treasure.” The Dwarf Yudrit plucked a feather from the mummy’s headdress and said impatiently, “This place is empty. I don’t want to get so old my beard drags on my belly, only to have my grandson ask me, ‘Grandpa, you went adventuring in the Asoerta mountains and all you brought home were a few dried-up feathers?’.”

The five dwarves joked around cheerfully, helping themselves to some of the burial goods from the mummy as souvenirs of their adventure. The main war trophies were feathers from the headdress, but there were also polished wooden bracelets and beast-bone necklaces.

Normally, such behavior was forbidden, but since their time in the mountain tunnel had been safe and uneventful, Iluth and Victor didn’t mind the Silverhawk scouts picking out mementos they fancied.

A quick-eyed Wild Elf War Dancer snatched a translucent, amber-colored sphere from the mummy’s sleeve and respectfully presented it to Victor. “Lord Nightingale, look at this burial item.”

The sphere was about the size of a normal person’s fist. Its material seemed to be ordinary resin, but the crucial part was that it encased a lifelike severed head of an Assyrian. It was baring its teeth with a furious glare, long fangs protruding past its lips in a pained and savage expression. Behind its ears were scrape marks from a knife, showing where a ring of scales had once been.

The elven warriors all gathered around, clicking their tongues in amazement. A Halfling climbed onto an elf’s shoulder to get a better view, while the dwarves, stuck in the outer circle, were hopping mad, clamoring for a look themselves.

Victor’s wind elemental perception couldn’t penetrate the resin to observe the head inside. He frowned and said, “The victim’s skull must have been shattered and removed for the head to be shrunk to this size.”

“What is it for?” asked General Moonsong’s little sister, Iluna, curiously.

“Perhaps it was a favorite collector’s item of this Shaman, or maybe a spellcasting medium… Who knows?” Victor shrugged, his expression one of disgust. “The customs of the Assyrian Shamans are evil, cruel, and nauseating.”

The Wild Elf War Dancer had originally intended to offer this strange item to Lord Nightingale. But after hearing Victor’s words, he suddenly found the resin sphere in his hand utterly revolting. He snatched his hand back as if struck by lightning, letting the sphere fall to the ground. The other elves also wrinkled their noses and backed away, as if the rolling sphere was a stinking toad.

“None of you want it? Then it’s mine.” A Dwarf guard picked up the resin ball and stuffed it into his backpack.

Prophet Aigelo’s eyes darted about. He tried to trick the resin ball out of his dwarf brother’s hands, saying intimidatingly, “That thing’s a bit strange. You’d better let me take a look.”

The Dwarf guard made a face at Aigelo and jeered, “Greybeard, the moment your eyes start darting, I know you’re up to no good… Trying to trick me? Be careful, or I’ll beat you until you’re as ugly as Yudrit.”

Yudrit’s beard bristled with anger. He was about to step forward and grapple with his dwarven brother but was pushed aside by the Wild Elf General.

Iluth Moonsong stared at the Dwarf guard, her face stern, and commanded, “Krailio, put that thing back!”

Her eyebrows narrowed. Her facial features were soft and beautiful, but her expression was just as intimidating to a dwarf. Krailio grumbled under his breath and reluctantly stuffed the resin sphere containing the Assyrian’s head back into the mummy’s sleeve.

Victor gave Iluth an appreciative nod and said, “Let’s leave this place. I’ll take the lead. We need to find the main tombs of the Four Seasons Wizard Kings as soon as possible.”

Chapter 807: The Overlapping Beacons

The tunnels inside the mountain crisscrossed and wound their way through the rock, and with the exceptionally dim light, the place was a veritable labyrinth. The Silverhawk scouts walking inside had no idea where they were. The ant-man undead who had dug this maze of tunnels clearly had no habit of posting signs, so whenever they encountered a fork, it was difficult to choose which direction to take.

But Mr. Nightingale, walking at the head of the group, was always able to choose the correct path toward the tomb altar from within the complex tunnels. The Silverhawk scouts couldn’t understand how he did it, but at the same time, they felt it was only natural. Only Iluth Moonsong inquired with him about the secret behind it.

In truth, Victor was determining the direction of the tomb altar by observing the patterns of air circulation within the tunnels.

This was easier said than done. It required a wealth of knowledge and an incredibly fine control over the wind element to achieve such a seemingly prescient and magical effect.

In any case, with Victor leading the way, the Silverhawk scouts took only a day to find the remaining two tombs of the Wither Shamans.

These two tombs verified Victor’s earlier speculation. The two mummies on the obsidian altars each pointed to the same spot as the mummy of the first Wither Shaman.

That had to be the main tomb of the Wither Wizard King.

By this point, Victor had confirmed the general locations of the main tombs of the Despair Wizard King and the Wither Wizard King. All that remained were the tombs of the Plague Wizard King and the Summer Wizard King, which still needed to be surveyed.

However, X-3 had already established a model based on the explored tunnels and tomb nodes. This model would help Victor more quickly locate the remaining tomb nodes and discover the construction principles of the entire tunnel system, as well as certain information hidden within.

After the Silverhawk scouts finished inspecting the third Wither Shaman’s tomb and found no clues of greater value, Victor led them out of the chamber. They followed the tunnel back to a fork, preparing to head toward their next target.

The dwarves were bursting with excitement over the wealth in the Wizard King’s main tomb, their short, thick legs moving surprisingly fast. As he walked, Victor spoke with the dwarf Prophet, Eglok. “I think you dwarves are very well-suited to living underground.”

Eglok Graybeard replied in a long-winded ramble, “Dwarves have big noses that can sniff out the scent of minerals and treasure. We like digging for treasure underground, but we can’t live without the sun and moon. The Sun Tree and Moonlight Tree can turn a dwarf into a Giant Dwarf, and then into a Son of the Hills. Then we’re not suited for running around underground anymore. But, I’ve heard there are Grayiron Dwarves in the subterranean world, living with the Dark Elves… I’ve also heard they like to kneel at the feet of Dark Elves and eat raw centipedes and salamanders… What a bunch of honorless, evil fellows.”

“I heard Grayiron Dwarves don’t grow beards… A beardless dwarf? Just imagining it tells you they’re a bunch of ugly blighters,” another dwarf interjected, joining the conversation about Grayiron Dwarves.

Then more dwarves joined in, until finally all five Hill Dwarves were chattering away, collectively slandering their kin—the Grayiron Dwarves. Their claims were inconsistent and baseless, purely for the sake of teasing and amusement.

Victor once again experienced the dwarves’ talent for spouting nonsense. To get even a shred of valuable information from their mouths, you first had to filter out over eighty percent of the rubbish. Of the remaining twenty percent, more than half was off-topic, and the truly useful words probably only made up five percent of their-spit filled chatter.

With dwarves in the party, the journey was never lonely. These loose-lipped fellows were actually trustworthy companions. They always shielded their other partners, and even knowing Mr. Nightingale’s extraordinary strength, they flanked him, holding their blade-shields level, ready to block an attack for him at any moment.

“I can’t even imagine what a beardless male dwarf would look like!” the Dragon Hunter, Yudrit, bellowed.

“I can help you shave your beard, then give you a mirror.”

“See if I don’t beat you to a pulp!”

The dwarf guard, Krailio, laughed heartily and dodged Yudrit’s feint. He glanced behind him, and his small eyes instantly went wide. He discovered that all the elven warriors had vanished, and the gloomy mountain tunnel had become a gray haze. Just as he whipped his head around in a panic, preparing to warn Lord Nightingale, he suddenly realized there was no one beside him. His dwarven brothers, with whom he had just been boasting, and Lord Nightingale all seemed to have mysteriously disappeared.

The rock walls of the tunnel melted away at a speed visible to the naked eye, like snow under a blazing sun. In their place was a gray, misty wilderness. A sky without a sun, a land without a single sign of life—weathered rocks and settled sand composed a barren, bleak world of death.

This monochromatic world of death also contained unbelievably majestic architecture. Krailio now stood at the edge of a great bridge. Below the bridge was a bottomless, dark abyss, and on the continent across from it stood a four-sided spire that rivaled a towering mountain peak. Scattered across the wilderness around the spire were clusters of buildings.

Faced with this strange situation, the strictly trained dwarf guard’s first reaction was to pull a verdant Moonlight Tree leaf from his pack and stuff it in his mouth. Then, he activated his breathing method to regain his calm and reason before cautiously investigating his surroundings.

He was instinctively terrified of the wilderness across the bridge and only paced and searched the area he was in. An unknown amount of time passed before a quiet, ethereal voice came from behind him. “Are you looking for me? I’ve come for you. Follow me, I’ll lead you out of here…”

Krailio whirled around to see an Asoerta Shaman in colorful clothes and a feathered crown standing not far away. His skin was dark, his face painted with strange patterns, and in his left hand, he held a head encased in resin. Pale flames burned in the head’s eye sockets, staring straight into Krailio’s eyes.

The third-rank Ridgeguard’s vigilant eyes gradually lost their focus, becoming dazed and groggy. Like a walking corpse, he was led by the Asoerta Shaman onto the great bridge spanning the bottomless abyss.

The bridge, carved from a single great stone, completely defied the laws of reality. As the dwarf guard walked on it, his heavy footsteps grew lighter and lighter, the color steadily drained from his body, and his exquisite armor became rusted and coated in a layer of gloom. Just as Krailio was about to be led by the Asoerta Shaman into the wilderness on the other side, a verdant green light with a silver edge suddenly shone from his chest. Thick, thorny vines sprouted wildly from under his feet, completely enveloping the dwarf guard. Like hungry pythons, the vines actively coiled around the Asoerta Shaman beside the dwarf, causing him to let out a hollow, shrill scream. His body turned incorporeal, slipping out of the thorny vines’ grasp, and he fled into the distance without a backward glance.

The cage formed by the thorny vines protected the dwarf guard in its center. The moonlight on the vines seeped into his body, restoring his color and, at the same time, his sanity.

Standing amidst the vines, Krailio first grabbed his beard, then began to shout, “By Moonlight above and the Hills below! The Funeral of Moonlight Thorns?! Am I dead? I’m not dead yet! How dare you bastards hold a funeral for me! Get me out of here…”

A pale blue smoke emerged from the void, swirling and spreading around the Moonlight Thorns. Two dark red points of light lit up in the depths of the smoke as if a pair of eyes had grown there. The dwarf guard heard a familiar voice in his mind. “What the hell are you yelling about! We’ll get you out. Stay put in the thorns. They’ll protect you and help me find you. Something’s wrong with this place, I have to go… Brother, hang in there, we’ll definitely come save you!”

“Greybeard, don’t go… Hey, leave me a bottle of wine before you go, or a bag of tobacco would be nice too.”

In the real world, four dwarves were using their pickaxes to carve out a passage and a platform on the cliff face, connecting a crack in the tunnel wall to the outside.

Krailio’s body, without breath or heartbeat, was laid out on this cliff platform by his brothers, his body cocooned by thorny vines.

Iluth Moonsong watched with a grave expression as the dwarf Prophet performed the Post-cognition Divination ceremony. Only when Eglok Graybeard, who had been sitting cross-legged on the ground, awoke did she secretly breathe a sigh of relief.

Having inexplicably lost a dwarven combat professional, she couldn’t bear to lose the even more important dwarven Prophet. If Eglok Graybeard hadn’t insisted on performing the divination to verify Lord Nightingale’s theory, Iluth would have chosen to abandon the seemingly dead Krailio.

“Krailio is indeed alive… uh, I mean his ghost is alive, and looking very spirited. He even asked me for wine and tobacco,” Eglok shouted excitedly as he stood up.

“Haha, I knew that kid wouldn’t die so easily!”

“How do we get him back?”

“I think we should find a noble Shaman of the Moon Goddess to pull Krailio’s ghost back from the Realm of All Spirits.”

“The Moonlight Thorns are protecting his ghost, but I don’t know how long they can last. If they start to eat Krailio’s body, it’s all over…”

The dwarven guards and elven warriors chattered amongst themselves, devising plans to save their companion’s soul. Iluth Moonsong quietly explained to Victor, “The Moonlight Tree Leaf Talisman made by the Third Princess, combined with a Bloodsucking Thorn Seed, triggers the Moonlight Thorns. It was originally meant to protect a gravely wounded and dying companion. The thorns of the Moonlight Thorns contain a powerful paralytic toxin that both eases the wounded’s pain and prevents beasts from destroying their body. Additionally, as a Moonlight Blessing, the Moonlight Thorns will prey upon any creature that approaches, just like Bloodsucking Thorns, and then feed the life essence it draws back to the wounded person inside to repair their injuries, sustain their life, and help them await rescue by a Shaman of the Moon Goddess. However, the Moonlight Thorns only last for one day… If it doesn’t capture any prey within a day, it will backlash against the wounded person inside, completely absorbing their body. After it flowers and bears fruit, it will quickly wither and dissipate. We take that fruit home and give it to their relatives… This is an honorable end granted by the Moon Goddess to combat professionals.”

Victor had personally witnessed Iluth use a Moonlight Tree Leaf Talisman and a Bloodsucking Thorn Seed to create the Moonlight Thorns. He believed that the Elven Empire’s divine arts had a unique quality compared to the simple and direct divine arts of Radiance. They made full use of the natural laws of the real world, displaying a rich and varied facet.

The healing principles of divine arts were all interconnected: on one hand, to restore physical losses, and on the other, to protect the soul.

However, saving a dying person with divine arts was extremely difficult. Many years ago, it took Spirit Priest Miller’s personal intervention to drag the dying Caligula back from the brink of death. The vast majority of Shamans of the Moon Goddess didn’t possess Miller’s extraordinary means. Moreover, their status was noble, and they rarely left the domain of a Moonlight Tree, while the Moonlight Thorns fixed the injured person in place, making it impossible to bring them to a Shaman of the Moon Goddess in time.

The Moonlight Thorns were, in essence, a burial ritual for combat professionals. Companions would leave the dying person behind with the best of wishes, so as not to feel a heavy sense of guilt.

Krailio’s situation was somewhat special. He wasn’t dying in the usual sense, so the Moonlight Thorns gave the Silverhawk scouts a faint glimmer of hope. But in this unfamiliar region, where would they find a Shaman of the Moon Goddess? It was only a matter of time before Krailio was buried by the Moonlight Thorns.

A trace of sorrow appeared in Angris Windsong’s eyes. She said to Victor, “Thank you for your timely warning, Lord Nightingale. Otherwise, we still wouldn’t have known that Krailio’s soul had fallen into the Realm of All Spirits… May the Moon Goddess protect his soul and help him find his way home… Regardless, Krailio’s fate has sounded the alarm for us. Although we don’t know the specific reason, we cannot take this mountain tunnel anymore.”

After Krailio suddenly lost consciousness, the Silverhawk scouts had quickly checked his body and belongings. Victor had discovered that a Moonlight Tree leaf in his pack had withered and dimmed. From this, he guessed that his soul had fallen into the Realm of All Spirits and that this had manifested in the real world.

Eglok Graybeard subsequently used a Post-cognition Divination ceremony to verify Victor’s theory. He had also touched upon the Realm of All Spirits when he performed a Post-cognition Divination in the first tomb, he just hadn’t gone deep inside.

The Dragon Hunter, Yudrit, walked up to Victor, his face full of hope, and said, “My lord, you must have a way to save Krailio…”

Victor nodded. “I have no method, but Krailio won’t die so completely or so easily… The Realm of All Spirits and the real world overlap. Compared to our world, it is clearly very weak. The longer Krailio’s soul can hold on inside, the Realm of All Spirits might just spit him out… provided Krailio has a beacon to return to his body.”

“He has one! The Moonlight Thorns are the beacon! I saw it! Krailio’s soul was sealed by the Moonlight Thorns on a bridge! Then I couldn’t hold on any longer and the divination smoke brought me back,” the dwarf Prophet exclaimed excitedly.

Victor mulled it over for a moment, then said, “Go hunt some prey to feed the Moonlight Thorns. Make them last as long as possible… Greybeard, you stay here and tell me exactly what you saw in the Realm of All Spirits.”

Chapter 808: A Clue Delivered to Their Doorstep

“

The Moonlight Thorns could only be sustained for a day. If it went past that time limit without feeding, it would create a backlash against the person it was protecting. The lizards and wild birds in the mountain crevice were clearly not enough to sate the Moonlight Thorns. As time was short, Iluth Moonsong personally led a team to hunt in the forest below the cliffs.

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After about half a day, the elven combat professionals returned with two wild boars and five takin. These spoils were more than enough to feed the Moonlight Thorns, and the remainder could supplement the Silverhawk scouts’ rations.

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Iluth placed the largest and most ferocious wild boar next to the Moonlight Thorns. When the thorny vines pierced the boar’s hide, it quickly stopped struggling, going limp as mud. The vines of the Moonlight Thorns gradually turned a deep crimson, wrapping themselves even tighter around the boar and growing at a speed visible to the naked eye.

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The more lushly the Moonlight Thorns grew, the more pronounced its effects of healing wounds and protecting the soul became. As this cluster of Moonlight Thorns swayed its vines, constantly sprouting new shoots, the Silverhawk scouts’ faces lit up with joy. The four Dwarves were so delighted they danced with joy, as if their brother Coelho was already saved. Even General Moonsong now wore a sweet smile, her relaxed expression a stark contrast to her earlier gloom.

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In truth, neither Coelho’s body nor soul had been injured. The Moonlight Thorns’ greatest function was to stabilize his soul, preventing it from being assimilated by the Realm of All Spirits. Whether his soul could be pulled out of the Realm of All Spirits by the Moonlight Thorns and return to his body, as Mr. Nightingale had predicted, was still an unknown.

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Iluth hoped for a good outcome. Yet, as a Gold-rank powerhouse, although she wasn’t as emotionally detached as a Gold Knight, her perspective, her way of thinking, and even her personal feelings were completely different from those of an ordinary combat professional. In her eyes, the method of saving the Dwarven guard was more important than Coelho’s life.

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If the method worked, it would prove Nightingale’s judgment correct, and Coelho’s rescue would naturally be a joyous occasion for everyone. If the method failed and Coelho died or turned into something else, Iluth would have to reconsider her subsequent plans to prevent the entire team from suffering the same cruel fate.

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Victor also hoped Coelho would survive. Whether he regained his own will or a ghost from the Realm of All Spirits occupied his body, as long as he—or it—could communicate with people, it was better than his body being devoured by the Moonlight Thorns.

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While Iluth was out hunting, Victor had learned some things about the Realm of All Spirits from Eglok Graybeard. Unfortunately, the Dwarven Prophet had only stayed there for a short while before being expelled, so what he saw was very limited. The ghosts of Asoerta in the Realm of All Spirits certainly held more secrets, but they were likely hostile toward the Silverhawk scouts, and their words would inevitably be filled with lies and deceit. Coelho’s soul, on the other hand, would undoubtedly be more honest and trustworthy.

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It was a rare occurrence for a Dwarf in the team to fall into the Realm of All Spirits. For him to be gone for good just like that was what Victor would find truly regrettable.

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The Moonlight Thorns pulling the Dwarf’s soul back from the Realm of All Spirits was just a hypothesis Victor had proposed. Time would prove whether it was correct. But time was precisely what he lacked now.

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Coelho’s fall into the Realm of All Spirits this time was possibly because he had once coveted the Wither Shaman’s amber orb. Another reason was that something had gone wrong in the Wither Wizard King’s main tomb chamber, causing the Realm of All Spirits to intersect with the real world.

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Victor could feel that his Dragonkin handmaidens, Laila and Dili, were near the Wither Wizard King’s main tomb chamber and had just experienced a moderately intense battle.

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The red Dragonkin handmaiden Laila and the green Dragonkin handmaiden Dili belonged to Imosen the Wizard’s team, which was responsible for exploring the temple’s underground space. For them to have suddenly moved to the Wither Wizard King’s main tomb chamber—who knew what had happened there to trigger an anomaly in the Realm of All Spirits.

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The Four Seasons Wizard King was the key to opening the Realm of All Spirits, but the key itself was not the point. How to open the Realm of All Spirits, and what would happen after it was opened—that was the crux of the problem.

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Imosen’s team had been contending with the Lord of Sorrow, so Victor had reason to suspect that the Lord of Sorrow was up to something. While he probed for vague information from the Dragonkin handmaiden Laila through their Mental Link, he also needed to explore the other three Wizard Kings’ main tomb chambers as quickly as possible.

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Whether there was any key information in the Wizard Kings’ main tomb chambers was still an unknown, but the Lord of Sorrow, suspected to be the Despair Wizard King in disguise, had already begun to act. Victor had to move to the vicinity of the temple before Her scheme succeeded, to either stop Her in time or bide his time for an opportunity.

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“We’re leaving now. We’ll head to the Four Seasons Wizard King’s tomb to see if there are any new clues,” Victor said, shifting his gaze from the Moonlight Thorns to scan the crowd.

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The Dragon Hunter Yudrit looked up, stunned. “Lord Nightingale, what about Coelho?” he asked.

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“He has the Moonlight Thorns protecting him. He can stay here.”

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Hearing that their brother, whose fate was still uncertain, was to be left alone, a Dwarf began to shout, his beard bristling with anger, “No, no way, how can we do that? Poor Coelho will be eaten by the Moonlight Thorns…”

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“Quiet! Lord Nightingale must have his reasons,” Olavi Moonsong snapped, silencing his noisy Dwarven companion. He looked at Mr. Nightingale with reverence, and the other elven warriors also fixed their gazes on Nightingale in respect.

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Just like that, the Dwarves and elves of the Silverhawk scout squad were divided into two factions. The Dwarves wanted to protect their companion, while the elves instinctively trusted the high-level Greater Elf Wanderer.

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Elves truly found it difficult to resist the Bloodline charm of a Son of the Moon God. Iluth sighed inwardly and began to speak, “My lord, you…”

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Victor waved his hand dismissively and said coldly, “If you need a reason, think of one yourselves. I have no evidence, and certainly no time to find a reason to leave. If you are unwilling to act with me, you are of no use to me. We part ways here. I will find the Four Seasons Wizard King’s main tomb chamber myself.”

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After speaking, he organized his equipment and supplies and left the cliffside platform on his own, turning back into the Underground Tunnel in the mountain’s belly, leaving a group of dumbfounded Dwarven and elven combat professionals staring at each other.

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Angris Windsong anxiously said to Iluth, “Sister, we can’t let my lord venture out alone! Don’t forget, our purpose on this trip is to find an opportunity to join Aylanta and receive the Sun Tree’s blessing. Lord Nightingale is our opportunity! He is more important than the legendary sacred object of the Empire.”

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Mr. Nightingale might not be as important as “Freya’s Tear,” but a living, breathing, prospective Son of the Moon God certainly aligned more with the practical interests of the Silverhawk scouts than some vague legend.

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From another perspective, any city-state in the Elven Empire, including the imperial capital Aylanta, would help a Tier 7 Son of the Moon God repair his Bloodline defect and would be willing to make sacrifices to do so. The awkward part was that Nightingale the Wanderer was exceptionally powerful, and his statement that he didn’t need the Silverhawk scouts’ assistance was no empty boast.

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Eglok Graybeard was the first to react, nodding repeatedly. “We don’t know why something happened to Coelho, and we don’t know if the Moonlight Thorns will wake him. Staying here doesn’t actually help him, and others might end up like him. When we’ve all turned into ghosts, who will save us? Alright, we need to do something. Whatever we do, it’s better than waiting here to die.”

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Yudrit immediately turned and plunged into the tunnel, shouting as he ran, “Lord Nightingale, Lord Nightingale, wait for me! We’ll go with you!”

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In a certain space within the Underground Tunnel network of the Assyrian Temple, the swordsman Tao De, Blood Python Macy, and Caligula led several dozen third-level Source-Blood Militia, who were clad in composite leather plate armor and armed with Adamantine halberds, guarding the entrances of three separate passages. Charlotte, Imoson the Wizard, Father Dayn, as well as Beldina and the Halfling Tiantian, were gathered around a black glazed rock altar in the center of the space, cautiously observing a skull. The Dragonkin handmaidens Laila and Dili, holding giant axe blades, led a dozen battle-scarred war beasts on patrol around the altar’s perimeter.

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The skull on the black glazed rock altar closely resembled a human skull, but it had completely crystallized, as if carved from pure crystal. Its surface shimmered with a vibrant luster, appearing exceptionally brilliant in the darkness.

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Imosen swallowed and asked hesitantly, “Father Dayn, are we really going to take this thing down?”

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Dressed in composite leather plate armor and carrying a flail, Dayn currently looked more like a warrior. The empowering effect of the level four Sacred Warrior Crystal had just ended, and the Adamantine flail, which he had wielded as an extension of his own arm moments before, now felt extraordinarily heavy, causing his arms to tremble slightly. Yet his spirit was vigorous, his eyes bright and sharp. He simply dropped the flail and said in a low voice, “Those Undead Insectoids must be the Lord of Sorrow’s claws. She forced us here for this crystal skull. Have you noticed? Ever since we entered this space where the crystal skull is placed, the Undead Insectoids have stopped following us. This means they cannot enter this area. We are safe for now, but if we touch this crystal skull, the situation here will become unpredictable.”

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“Safe for now…”

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Hearing these words, Imosen heaved a long sigh of relief, and a deep sense of exhaustion washed over him. He found a spot to sit down cross-legged, using a breathing method to calm his tense and fearful emotions.

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His team had been in the temple’s underground tunnels for six days. For most of the journey, they had encountered no strong enemies, only sporadic Undead Creatures. These Undead Creatures came in various forms, but all shared the dual characteristics of insects and intelligent races. Imosen had simply dubbed them “Undead Insectoids.”

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The Undead Insectoids varied in strength. The most common were the Ant-men that had once invaded the Gambis Kingdom. Besides them, there were larger and more bizarre insectoids. Some individual Undead Insectoids even possessed combat strength on par with the Gold rank. Fortunately, the number of Undead Insectoids in the tunnels was limited and they were scattered throughout the underground space. The Randell Expeditionary Force could easily annihilate any they encountered. Not only did they suffer no major losses, but Imosen also took the opportunity to enslave over thirty Undead Insectoids, which actually boosted the team’s overall strength.

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Worried that the aberrant war beasts would stimulate the predatory desires of the black-blooded Undead Creatures, Imosen had left the Razorbeasts and Philip II and III in the forest outside the mountain range. Without his aberrant war beasts, he couldn’t unleash his own extraordinary powers. The addition of the undead Ant-men had restored his confidence.

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Based on past experience, Aberration Wizardry was ineffective against intelligent races, but Undead Creatures were not bound by this rule. In the process of corrupting souls and seizing control of the Undead Insectoids, Imosen had inevitably come into contact with the will of the Lord of Sorrow. Yet he completely ignored the Lord of Sorrow’s whispers, forcefully controlling his target units, turning their pale eye sockets a dark red, and then ordering them to walk at the front of the team, serving as cannon fodder for the expedition.

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The undead enslaved by the Wizard showed signs of power degradation, their bodies beginning to decay. They could be used for just over thirty days at most, but for Imosen, who treated them as consumables, that was long enough. Once the expedition team finished searching the underground tunnels, they would be able to leave this godforsaken place.

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However, that afternoon, the Randell Expeditionary Force’s underground expedition team was hit by a swarm of Undead Insectoids in the tunnels. Their numbers seemed endless. All of Imosen’s enslaved servants were wiped out, and the expedition team lost eleven elite warriors and six warhounds. Even the protected Father Dayn had to join in the close-quarters combat, which showed just how dire the situation had been.

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The underground expedition team could only fight and retreat, choosing the only tunnel free of Undead Insectoids and moving deeper underground, finally shaking off their pursuers upon entering this space.

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Seeing the black glazed rock altar and the crystal skull enshrined upon it, Imosen understood. This attack was a ploy by the Lord of Sorrow; She wanted to force the expedition team into this underground space.

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Never do what an evil god wants you to do… Adhering to this belief, Imosen and Dayn decided not to touch the most conspicuous object on the black glazed rock altar, the crystal skull.

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Father Dayn straightened his appearance slightly and asked Charlotte, “My Lady, what is your opinion?”

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Charlotte was dressed in a fitted suit of Thorium Ant-man armor. Her golden hair was perfectly coiffed, and her emerald eyes were composed and calm, giving no hint that she had just survived a perilous battle. In reality, she was the commander of the underground expedition team. This was not only because the two powerful Dragonkin handmaidens completely obeyed her, but also because Charlotte’s own abilities were sufficient for her to bear this heavy responsibility.

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As His Highness Randell’s favored mistress, Charlotte’s beauty and gentleness often made people overlook her status as a senior knight. But during the expedition, she demonstrated outstanding leadership and calm, rational judgment. Take Father Dayn, for instance. Aided by the level four Sacred Warrior Crystal and his priestly divine arts, he possessed close-combat abilities comparable to a Silver Knight, but once the divine arts wore off, he was just as disheveled as Imosen the Wizard. In contrast, Charlotte, a Bronze-rank senior knight, remained composed and graceful, calm and collected even in the face of ferocious Undead Insectoids.

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A battle of this intensity had not yet pushed the senior knight to her limit. Charlotte was the undisputed commander.

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She first counted her sword-wielding handmaidens. There were nine of them, not one missing. The individual strength of the sword-wielding handmaidens was far inferior to that of the third-level Source-Blood Militia, but they were positioned in the inner circle of the formation. If the handmaidens suffered casualties, it would mean the situation was out of control. The fact that all nine handmaidens were unharmed was proof that the recent battle had been entirely under Charlotte’s command, or at the very least, that everyone had obeyed her orders.

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Charlotte was very satisfied with this. She nodded and said, “In the previous battle, we lost some supplies, but what we carry is enough to last us ten days. Most importantly, all our waterskins are safe and sound. I only hope the Lord of Sorrow mistakenly believes we’re at our wit’s end… But we haven’t shown our full strength.”

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During the battle, the underground expedition team had killed hundreds of Undead Insectoids, sacrificing eleven elite warriors and seven war beasts. Imosen the Wizard had lost all his servants, but the two Dragonkin handmaidens had not transformed, and Father Dayn, following Charlotte’s instructions, had not used the extraordinary power of the sacred object crystal. The hidden strength of this team was far greater than what they had shown.

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Father Dayn looked at the stunningly beautiful female knight in surprise. “My Lady, do you have a plan?” he asked.

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“The safety here is an illusion.” Charlotte nodded and continued, “The longer we stay, the lower our chances of breaking out. We can’t find a stable water source, and on the other hand, the Lord of Sorrow has more time to organize another army of Undead Insectoids. They don’t even need to attack us; they just have to collapse the three tunnels to trap us in here to die.”

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Charlotte glanced at the Wizard and added, “Previously, with the Undead Insectoids controlled by Your Excellency Imosen in our team, I was worried the Lord of Sorrow could ‘see’ us through them. Therefore, I had Your Excellency Imosen give the orders, pretending to be the leader of this team. Now, we must formulate a new plan of action.”

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Imosen froze for a moment, then felt a hot flush creep up his face. Apart from her beauty, Charlotte usually had a very low-key presence. Even her looks were not particularly dazzling next to His Highness Randell. As a result, Imosen had overlooked her authority as a Sworn Knight of the Gold-Eyed Earl.

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The Wizard now realized that Lady Charlotte had deliberately put him at the forefront. He, who had been full of himself at the beginning, had been thrown into disarray at the first sign of trouble, and had been foolishly driven into this underground space by the evil god.

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Charlotte smiled faintly and said softly, “Your Excellency Imosen need not blame yourself. In fact, our objective has already been achieved.”

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“Objective? My Lady, you mean…” Imosen asked, confused.

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Charlotte’s gaze fell upon the crystal skull on the altar. She nodded. “The Master ordered us to explore the underground tunnels and find valuable clues. Doesn’t this crystal skull fit the Master’s requirements?”

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Imosen was aghast. “What? You want to take the crystal skull?” he said quickly. “But Father Dayn said not to touch anything in here, or the Undead Insectoids might break in.”

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“So what? Even if they don’t break in, we still have to break out.” Charlotte raised one of her slender, willow-like brows. Her emerald eyes turned to Father Dayn. “Perhaps, now that we have entered this place and seen the Assyrian altar, the conditions restricting the Lord of Sorrow have already changed.”

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An idea struck Dayn. He stood up and asked, “My Lady means that the undead couldn’t enter here originally, but because we’ve come, now they can?”

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“I’m not certain. But I don’t think the Lord of Sorrow does things without reason.” Charlotte nodded again. “Regardless, we must deliver this crystal skull to the Master. This is the mission His Highness requires us to complete. Now, I ask you two gentlemen to recover your vigor as quickly as possible. We will be relying on your strength for the breakout. Especially you, Your Excellency Imosen. Is it possible for you to control more Undead Creatures?”

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Imosen thought for a moment and said with some difficulty, “I don’t see any Undead Creatures here, and even if there were… if they were in swarms, it would be difficult for me to control them. Also, I would have to give up some of my aberrant creatures to control more undead.”

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Charlotte’s eyes sparkled. “Then I ask that Your Excellency abandon all the Razorbeasts,” she said without hesitation. “They are of little help anyway. It would be best to feed the Razorbeasts to Philip II and III. Those two aberrant war beasts might be the two trump cards for your negotiations with the evil god… As for the Undead Creatures, Your Excellency need not worry. I will ask the two sisters, Laila and Dili, to venture into the depths of the tunnel to lure some Undead Insectoids back for you to enslave. If we hold the three tunnel entrances firmly, the Undead Insectoids won’t break in so easily. Once Your Excellency Imosen’s number of servants reaches the target, we can consider breaking out.”

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Imosen asked, puzzled, “My Lady, you said that Philip II and III are my two trump cards for negotiating with the Lord of Sorrow? What does that mean?”

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“Not the Lord of Sorrow, but the Black Blood Sovereign.” Charlotte shook her head and replied, “When we passed through the Forest of Despair, those Slime Behemoths and black-blooded snake-tailed vultures showed great interest in the Biological Aberrations. The Master once guessed that the Black Blood Sovereign needs the Bloodline Law contained within Biological Aberrations to construct its perfect body.”

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“Oh, then I have no problem.”

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“Good. You also need to prepare yourself to communicate with the will of the Lord of Sorrow… Father Dayn, please bless His Excellency Imosen with your divine arts to protect his soul from the temptation and corruption of the Whisperer. I suspect the Lord of Sorrow wants something from us, and since we do not need to rely on Her, She might try to weaken us by using the undead to eliminate some of our family’s soldiers, but She will absolutely not kill His Excellency Imosen easily… Imosen, you must control the rhythm of the conversation and try to use your words to protect more people.”

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Watching Lady Charlotte methodically arrange their tactics, Dayn couldn’t help but feel a surge of emotion. Some things were only just becoming clear to him. Since the paths in the underground tunnels were fixed, the expedition squad had fallen into the Lord of Sorrow’s grasp the moment they entered. This unknown evil god had too many options for dealing with the human expedition team; She didn’t need to act hastily. While the Lord of Sorrow was observing the human expedition team, Charlotte Randell had been quietly devising a counter-strategy.

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The underground tunnels were dimly lit, winding, and complex, a completely unfamiliar maze to the expedition squad. To find any valuable clues within it was exceedingly difficult. To be precise, it was nearly impossible, because the Lord of Sorrow was spying from the shadows, and Her Undead Insectoid minions could cut off paths, isolating the human expedition team from any clues. Unless, She actively led the human team to a key area with clues, just as She had now.

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In fact, from the moment they entered the tunnels, the underground expedition team had no choice. But Charlotte also knew that the Lord of Sorrow would surely hand over a clue主动地; otherwise, She should have just blocked the entrance instead of letting the human team in.

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His Highness Randell’s order for the underground expedition team to acquire clues could only mean clues provided by the Lord of Sorrow. Therefore, his sworn female knight was bound to take the Assyrian crystal skull.

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The next question was, how would the expedition team escape after taking the crystal skull?

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Charlotte had considered two factors. First, the Lord of Sorrow would not let the human expedition team go easily, especially not Imosen the Wizard. Second, the team’s supply levels determined the critical point between exploration and retreat.

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Charlotte calculated their food, and especially their water reserves. When the water supply was only enough for the team to leave the tunnels and return to the surface, she would have to lead everyone in a retreat. But the Lord of Sorrow would prevent the expedition from leaving, or at least try to keep Imosen the Wizard behind. To achieve this goal, She could kill the other humans, leaving only Imosen.

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However, the Lord of Sorrow faced a problem: the Undead Insectoids controlled by Imosen the Wizard included types that were skilled at digging, and their need for food and water was extremely low. Imosen could simply order his undead servants to dig a new tunnel and leave the temple’s underground caverns.

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And so, based on the consumption of drinking water, Charlotte had guided Imosen to gradually control more and more Undead Insectoids. When the Wizard’s undead servants reached a certain number, enough to easily dig a tunnel, the Lord of Sorrow could no longer sit still. She took action, wiping out Imosen’s undead servants in one fell swoop and forcing the human expedition team to a predetermined location, using them to solve a problem She wanted solved but couldn’t solve Herself.

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But, She had not expected the human expedition team, under Charlotte’s clever command, to have hidden most of its strength.

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This was the key to Charlotte turning the tables!

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Originally, the human expedition team’s water reserves were insufficient to support a search of the entire underground tunnel network. If their supplies could only last for twenty days in the tunnels, they would have to spend ten days exploring and the remaining ten returning to the surface. Finding a valuable clue within ten days would have been purely a matter of luck. Now, the Lord of Sorrow had actively led them to a place with a clue. Charlotte intended to retreat as soon as she had the crystal skull. The Lord of Sorrow’s undead would certainly try to stop them, and the underground expedition team would unleash its full strength. If they could fight their way out, they would. If not, they would dig a tunnel out.

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It was unlikely Imosen would be able to enslave any more digging-type Undead Insectoids, but the team’s four Dragon-Lizard war beasts were also adept at tunneling through rock. This was why Charlotte had not deployed the Dragon-Lizard war beasts in the previous battle. With the Dragon-Lizard war beasts, the expedition team could break out to a suitable location and have the ability to dig a tunnel to the surface.

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Dayn was well aware that Charlotte had once been the famously beautiful wife of Viscount Briart, a “flower vase” type among noble ladies. As His Highness Randell’s favored mistress, she was also known for her beauty and gentle nature. But the strategy she displayed now made Dayn look at her in a new light, even feeling that he was her inferior.

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Putting aside this favored beauty’s strength and wisdom for a moment, how could she, a mere Bronze-rank Knight, dare to engage in a battle of wits with an evil god, completely unafraid?

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Knighthood was beyond gender. Their strength, wisdom, and courage always served to elevate one another; this was the beauty of balance.

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The underground expedition team made preparations according to Charlotte’s instructions. The third-level Source-Blood Militia took turns eating and using visualization to restore their spirit and physical stamina to their peak. The sword-wielding handmaidens reapplied silverlight potion to everyone’s weapons, while the craftsmen in the team used available materials, including biological materials taken from the Undead Insectoids, to create practical tools. The Dragonkin handmaiden Dili went alone into the depths of the tunnel to scout and captured some Undead Insectoids for Imosen the Wizard to enslave.

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Half a day later, Imosen had twenty-one Undead Insectoids under his command. They were all combat-type Black-Blood Ant-men. Their individual strength was average, but they possessed the undead trait of having no vital points, which made them very troublesome. Imosen used Wisdom Guidance wizardry to control the Black-Blood Ant-men and send them deeper into the tunnels to scout. As expected, he found no digging-type Black-Blood Undead Insectoids.

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The Lord of Sorrow truly wanted to trap them underground.

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When the number of undead Ant-men under the Wizard’s control reached sixty-two, Charlotte put on her helmet, pulling the visor down to cover her beautiful face. She walked to the black glazed rock altar, and with a sweep of her hand, tucked the crystal skull into a leather pouch. She drew her Adamantine longsword, which flowed with silver light, and amid the clang of sword against scabbard, she raised her voice and shouted, “The Randell Expeditionary Force, assemble! We’re fighting our way back to the surface!”

Chapter 809: A Demon Sovereign?

The tunnels excavated by the Undead Insectoids were a magnificent feat of engineering, so much so that they could be described as an underground kingdom. A network of passages connected one great hall to another in a roughly elliptical structure, with sturdy rock pillars supporting the cavern ceilings. The tunnel the expedition team traversed was on the lower and narrower side, yet it still averaged 4.5 meters in height and about 10 meters in width, wide enough for even giant insectoid monsters to pass through with ease.

The tunnels were pitch-black, so dark that one could not see their hand in front of their face. The expedition team didn’t light any torches, using only a dozen or so crystal lanterns as tools for communication. However, their weapons, coated in silverlight potion, shone with a cold, bright-white light. Nearly one hundred warriors, each holding a weapon, formed a long serpent of silver light that slithered swiftly through the dark passage.

At the other end of the tunnel, pale specks of light appeared—the soul-fires flickering in the eye sockets of the Undead Insectoids. They, too, gathered into a tide and surged toward the expedition team.

The two forces crossed the several-kilometer distance and soon collided.

The Dragonkin handmaidens, Laila and Dili, wielding crescent-shaped axe blades as tall as themselves, charged at the very front of the expedition team. The Dragonkin handmaidens’ vertical pupils could pierce through darkness and mist; in their eyes, the movements of the Undead Ant-men were as slow as a snail’s crawl. Their Lightning Reflexes granted them superhuman reaction speeds, and their heavy, enormous, sharp axe blades left streaks of silvery-white light as they cleaved through the Undead Ant-men as if dicing vegetables.

They charged ahead, their movements as lithe as a cat’s, their steps as light as a deer’s, their attacks as fierce as a tiger’s. Spinning as they swung their great blades, their postures were as elegant as a captivating dance. The gleaming silver axe blades tore through the air like lightning in the night. The swarms of Undead Creatures were utterly incapable of halting the Dragonkin handmaidens’ assault. The severed limbs of the Ant-men and their viscous, murky black blood rapidly decayed and withered upon contact with the silver light, emitting a foul, sour stench.

The two Dragonkin handmaidens carved out a large, empty clearing in the army of Undead Creatures within the tunnel. The few who slipped through were intercepted by the Alchemical militia and hacked to pieces by their heavy, one-handed Adamantine halberds.

However, the number of Undead Creatures seemed endless, and they were not limited to just the Black blood Ant-men. From the end of the passage, a large number of new Undead Insectoids poured out. They clung to the ceiling of the cave, avoiding the Dragonkin handmaidens who were wreaking havoc on the ground. They scurried along the uneven rock walls directly toward the expedition team, preparing to attack the middle of the formation from above the human warriors’ heads.

“The Eight-legged Spiders are coming! Warriors, use your bows and arrows against them… Your Excellency Imosen, the rest of the Eight-legged Spiders are up to you!” Charlotte commanded immediately upon spotting the dense cluster of pale flames on the cave ceiling.

The Eight-legged Spiders’ appearance was strikingly similar to that of spiders. They were only a quarter of the size of an Ant-man, about as large as an eight-year-old child. Their strength was slightly less than that of an adult human, but they were agile and swift, capable of scurrying freely along cliff faces. Their carapaces were black and hard, and they relied on their sharp limbs and powerful mandibles to harm their enemies.

These Undead Creatures would leap onto their enemies from various angles, relying on their lack of vital points to endure blows and overwhelm individual foes with sheer numbers. The casualties suffered by the Randall expedition team were primarily caused by these Eight-legged Spiders.

Although the Eight-legged Spiders exhibited no traits of a sapient species, appearing for all intents and purposes as large spider monsters, Imosen had determined from their carapaces and internal organ systems that they were a variant of the Ant-man. In fact, all types of Undead Insectoids shared a common origin. Imosen was an authority on monsterology; he was certain of his judgment but could not explain why the Black blood Undead Ant-men manifested in such a bizarre variety of life forms. Even these Undead Ant-men were different from the ones Imosen had seen in the Great Marsh; their bodies were more robust, and their carapaces were covered in sharp spikes, giving them a ferocious and terrifying appearance.

However, the soul strength of these Undead Insectoids was directly proportional to their size. It took Imosen nine seconds to permeate the soul of a Black blood Undead Ant-man, but to permeate the soul of an Eight-legged Spider took less than three seconds, and he could handle four at a time. The Wizard’s current undead servants were more than half comprised of these Eight-legged Spiders.

The Alchemical militia drew their bows and fired. Waves of silver streaks shot toward the cave ceiling. Any Eight-legged Spider struck by an arrow plummeted from the rock wall. The silverlight potion coated on the arrowheads caused their wounds to wither rapidly, robbing them of the ability to climb back up the wall and even making their movements exceptionally sluggish.

This was because their bodies were relatively small. If it had been the Black blood Ant-men, arrows soaked in silverlight potion probably wouldn’t have had such a significant damaging effect.

The Undead Creatures surged forward, one after another, fearless and undaunted. Finally, some Eight-legged Spiders got close to the expedition team, but they were met by their own kind, whose eye sockets now glowed with crimson light. The thirty-odd Eight-legged Spiders under Imosen’s control intercepted their former companions on the ceiling. They bit and tore at each other, piercing their opponents with sharp limbs. As soon as an Undead Insectoid fell to the ground, an Alchemical militia with a one-handed halberd would immediately step forward and lop its head off.

The sheer number of Undead Creatures was overwhelming. The Eight-legged Spiders appeared in a continuous stream, breaking through the arrow volleys, felling the wizard’s servants, and pouncing on the Alchemical militia. As the militia engaged in close combat, the expedition’s rate of fire noticeably decreased, allowing more Eight-legged Spiders to break through their defensive perimeter.

Charlotte flicked her wrist, her longsword creating a spray of silver light that decapitated four Eight-legged Spiders. “We can’t stop! Randall warriors, push forward!” she shouted urgently. “Anyone entangled by a monster, get close to Imoson the Wizard!”

Faced with the pressure exerted by the Undead Creatures, the team absolutely could not halt their advance, or they would be pushed back to their starting point.

Imosen unleashed his extraordinary abilities without reservation. Arcane, dark-red runes materialized in the void behind his head. The movements of all Eight-legged Spiders within a ten-meter radius became slow and stiff, the pale flames in their eye sockets gradually corrupted by a dark-red glow. They turned and lunged at the nearest Undead Creature.

With the Archwizard’s help, the dire situation was gradually turned around. The team’s forward momentum picked up again, and the volleys of arrows regained their density.

When the expedition team charged into the great hall at the other end of the tunnel, the sight of hundreds upon thousands of Undead Creatures made their scalps tingle.

“The Lord says, evil shall be vanquished, and darkness shall be dispelled.”

Father Dayn’s expression was solemn and grave as he held aloft the sacred object crystal bestowed upon him by Father Miller. A brilliant Holy Light illuminated the entire great hall. The countless Undead Creatures seemed to take fright, retreating like a tide into three other pitch-black tunnels.

This was the most basic Divine Art of Holy Light, a symbol of a priest of the Lord of Radiance. Besides providing light, it normally had no other extraordinary effects. But by borrowing the power of the sacred object crystal, Dayn’s bright light actually produced an effect akin to a demon-dispelling divine art.

This Holy Light could not destroy any type of Undead Insectoid, but it could weaken their strength and speed by a quarter. The elite warriors of the Randall family now held a tremendous advantage fighting the Undead Creatures within the illuminated area.

A priest of the Lord of Radiance was the natural enemy of the Black blood Undead Creatures. Even if he encountered a Gold-level Undead Insectoid, a single Sacred Flame Art from Dayn could reduce it to ashes.

Looking at the now empty great hall, Dayn’s expression was grim, devoid of any joy or pride. The Undead Creatures were fearless; their retreat was by no means due to fear but was a result of being controlled by the Lord of Sorrow. An organized army of undead was on an entirely different level of combat effectiveness compared to a horde of mindless, chaotic undead.

It was the first time Charlotte had witnessed the Divine Art of Holy Light have such a stunning effect on Undead Creatures. She paused for a moment, then nodded to Father Dayn in acknowledgment. “Your Excellency Dayn, how long can your Holy Light last?”

Dayn held the sacred object crystal in his left hand and pondered, “This Holy Light originates from a gift from a certain great lord and can last for a full day. However, this is the savage wilderness, not the human kingdoms illuminated by the Radiance. No matter how powerful, holy power has its limits. It will take three days for that great lord’s Holy Crystal to automatically replenish its holy power.” He gave a wry smile and added, “If it were my own holy power that was depleted, it might not recover even in three years… You see, divine arts have a domain characteristic. The entire human kingdoms are our Lord’s domain of Holy Light. It is very difficult for us clergy to recover holy power outside of that domain.”

Charlotte bit her red lip gently and nodded. “I understand… It will only take us a little over half a day to return to the surface the way we came. Your Excellency Dayn, please hold on. We’re getting out of here now.”

Dayn said with a serious expression, “My Lady, I must remind you, even with the guidance of the Holy Light, the Lord of Sorrow will not let us go easily. He has likely gathered more Undead Insectoids to ambush us up ahead.”

Charlotte’s willow-like brows furrowed. “Three tunnels ahead, there’s a smaller great hall. That hall has only two entrances, one in front and one in back, making its terrain easy to defend. We can block the two tunnels there and have the Dragon-Lizard war beasts dig a passage up to the surface. That way, we won’t have to face the Lord of Sorrow’s undead army head-on.”

“That is a sound plan,” Dayn said, nodding in approval. He raised the sacred object crystal and said, “Let’s go.”

For the rest of the journey, the expedition team did not encounter a single Undead Creature. The mood of Charlotte and the others grew increasingly heavy. They could imagine the Lord of Sorrow mobilizing a massive legion of Undead Insectoids, waiting for the expedition team to walk right into a trap.

It wasn’t until the team had passed through two consecutive great halls and entered the final tunnel of Charlotte’s planned route that everyone breathed a small sigh of relief. As long as the great hall ahead was still clear of the undead legion, the expedition’s situation would be relatively safe. Even if the Lord of Sorrow reacted, it wouldn’t be easy for his claws to break through the only two tunnel entrances.

The tall and burly Caligula suddenly stopped, muttering, “There’s an undead monster in the great hall ahead…”

Charlotte’s heart sank. “Aka, are there many monsters ahead?”

Aka gave a simple-minded smile and patted his chest. “Only one Giant Shield Beetle. Brave Aka can kill it.”

Charlotte gave a decisive order, “Quick! We’ll rush through and set up defenses in the great hall!”

The expedition team sprinted at full speed, covering the several-kilometer-long tunnel in an instant. They entered the great hall and saw a three-meter-tall, humanoid beetle squatting alone in the center. Its eye sockets, burning with pale flames, were fixed on Imoson the Wizard.

The Giant Shield Beetle, a combat-type Undead Insectoid, was the strongest Undead Creature the expedition had encountered so far. They possessed immense strength and incredibly hard carapaces. Even Macy, the Silver rank Ferocious female warrior, couldn’t break through their defenses head-on.

Father Dayn had provisionally classified the Giant Shield Beetle as a Gold-level Undead Insectoid.

Despite possessing Gold-level strength, the Giant Shield Beetle’s combat prowess was still lacking in front of Caligula, who had deeply ignited his fire of the mind and mastered the Touch of the Mind. Their attack patterns were too simple: a quick charge, a leaping plunge, a sweeping limb attack, or curling up to defend. It was just the same few moves over and over. Aka and the Dragonkin handmaidens could each easily subdue a Giant Shield Beetle.

Besides, there was only one Giant Shield Beetle here.

Blood Python Macy extended her tongue and licked her full, red lips. An eager look appeared on her beautiful face as she tightened her grip on the Adamantine spear in her hand, intending to go forward and challenge the Giant Shield Beetle head-on.

Her strength was a tier below the Giant Shield Beetle’s, but her mental state was a realm higher.

However, Charlotte pulled Macy’s arm and turned to Imosen. “It seems it’s here for you.”

Dayn cast three divine arts on Imosen to enhance his mind power and added, “Let’s hear what it has to say.”

“Aka, Laila, you protect His Excellency Imosen. The rest of you, seal the two entrances and establish a defensive line,” Charlotte waved her hand, and the expedition team immediately entered the great hall and set up defenses at the two tunnel entrances.

“Aka is brave, Aka is the bravest!”

The big simpleton howled, activating the seed of the Heroism Art bestowed upon him by the Radiant God of War, Ron. His eyes turned platinum-gold as he leaped onto the Giant Shield Beetle’s back and pinned its head down with one hand.

It would take Caligula some effort to kill a Giant Shield Beetle, but neutralizing its power was child’s play. With its head held down by a Gold rank Ferocious warrior, the monster couldn’t exert its strength, no matter how great it was.

But it didn’t move at all, allowing Caligula to hang off its back.

Imosen approached and cast his Wizardry, corrupting its soul. Immediately, a consciousness entered the Wizard’s mind.

“Powerful primordial being of Law, we meet again.”

“The Lord of Sorrow! That previous ambush, that was your doing!”

“I admit it. But that was only because you refused to communicate with me. I had no choice but to order my undead to send you to the Wither Wizard King’s tomb.”

“The Wither Wizard King?”

“Yes, the Crystal Skull you saw and took is the remains of the Wither Wizard King… to be precise, the Wither Wizard King from fifteen hundred years ago, the last of his line.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t need to explain it to you. Reinforcements from your Elven Empire have invaded the Disaster Wizard King’s tomb. That is a very powerful High Elf. I originally wanted to guide him to destroy the other three Wizard King cages, but his objective was clear. I didn’t need to trouble myself… Therefore, you are of no use to me anymore. I can let you leave. There’s no need for your beast to dig a tunnel.”

Imosen suppressed his inner shock, his mind racing. “Then why have you come to find me?”

“To tell you a few things you should know, as a reward for rescuing me. Although you had no intention of rescuing me, you did indeed do so…”

Imosen said faintly, “Speak. I’m listening.”

“I am the Lord of Sorrow, and also the most powerful Despair Wizard King of the Assyrian Empire. That I have become what I am now is all thanks to you humans!”

“This was over fifteen hundred years ago. A group of humans entered the Empire. The Wither, Plague, and Fury Wizard Kings and I welcomed them with hospitality, but they destroyed the very foundation of the Assyrian Empire and released the demon sovereign trapped in the Realm of All Spirits. As a result, we Assyrians could no longer draw power from the Realm of All Spirits and were powerless against The Undying One’s Ant-man army. We had no choice but to sacrifice ourselves to lock away the demon sovereign’s soul and The Undying One’s main will. The price was the severing of the line of succession of the Four Seasons Wizard King.”

“A demon sovereign? The Undying One?”

“The great tentacle you glimpsed before is the demon sovereign. I call it the Black Blood Sovereign… As for The Undying One, the Ant-men you encountered in the Underground Tunnel are all its offspring and avatars. It’s just that they dug their lair beneath the temple, in an area overlapping with the Realm of All Spirits, and I turned them into undead.”

“I don’t know why the once-mighty human empire now submits to the will of the Elven Queen, but we Assyrians and The Undying One were once vassals of the human empire. Even the demon sovereign in the Realm of All Spirits was prepared for us Assyrians by the human empire.”

“Because of this, we were benevolent toward that group of humans, but they destroyed the demonic prison their ancestors had arranged… I remember the power they wielded—it was identical to that of your companion holding the crystal.”

“The awakening of the demon sovereign led to the Anomaly in the Realm of All Spirits. The four Wizard Kings of the Assyrian Empire sacrificed themselves not only to seal the demon sovereign but, more importantly, to protect the Realm of All Spirits from collapsing.”

“Now, I have devoured the souls and wills of all the past Wizard Kings and Shamans of the Realm of All Spirits and become the Lord of Sorrow. I can replace the demon sovereign, stabilize the Realm of All Spirits, and restore the legacy of the four Wizard Kings of the Assyrian Empire. The problem is, I cannot expel the wills of the demon sovereign and The Undying One. With those two trapped in the Realm of All Spirits, the Assyrian Shamans cannot use the power of the Ancestral Spirits… Did you see that ooze monster when you passed through the Forest of Despair? The Assyrian Shamans have tried every possible method to rescue me. They attempted to kill the Black Blood Sovereign entrenched in the temple, but they failed without exception. The souls of the dead cannot enter the Realm of All Spirits and eventually become mindless ooze monsters. Over the years, the ooze monsters have gathered to form a colossal elemental undead.”

“This is a torture for the Assyrians! Being unable to enter the Realm of All Spirits after death is the cruelest punishment for us!”

The Lord of Sorrow calmed his愤怒 and continued, “All of this was caused by you humans. I have decided to forsake my ancient oath and no longer obstruct The Undying One, as my revenge against you humans.”

“Of course, you, who have pledged allegiance to the Elven Empire, don’t care whether The Undying One returns or not, right?”

Imosen had countless questions, but he showed no emotion, meeting the Lord of Sorrow’s probing with silent composure.

The Lord of Sorrow scoffed again. “I have already reached a consensus with The Undying One. We will help it escape, and we will no longer be enemies… Since the human empire has been annexed by the Elven Empire, you, as a special envoy of the Elven Empire, don’t care about The Undying One’s fate… Haha, if you were still an Archmage of the human empire, merely pretending to be an envoy of the Elven Empire, how would you feel hearing this news? In any case, you cannot stop any of this, because the powerful experts from the Elven Empire have truly arrived. They are in the temple, and some are in the Ant-man tunnels beneath it. What we needed you to do, they are already doing.”

“You’re overthinking things. I don’t know anything about a human empire. I am simply an envoy of the Elven Empire.” Imosen’s heart pounded, but he held fast to the identity Victor had fabricated for him.

“Is that so? Then you’d better hurry.” The Lord of Sorrow said tauntingly, “The radiating power of the Black Blood Sovereign can turn Ant-men into Black Blood Demons and Assyrian Shamans into Mindless Ones. Assyrians cannot enter the tombs of the Four Seasons Wizard King, and Ant-men cannot enter the area of the temple that overlaps with the Realm of All Spirits. But humans can, and elves can… Your entry into the Wizard King’s tomb means the seal is broken. My undead servants can also enter the Wizard King’s tomb.”

“And what of it?” Imosen asked faintly.

“That will depend on what price the Elven Empire is willing to pay to eliminate the Black Blood Sovereign.”

“Aren’t you trying to retrieve ‘Freya’s Tear’? I’ll tell you, it’s inside the Black Blood Sovereign. The Black Blood Sovereign relies on it to gain the right to walk in this world, but its true body is trapped in the Realm of All Spirits, with only one tentacle extending from the temple’s sacrificial pit. The Elven Empire cannot possibly kill it unless its true body completely leaves the Realm of All Spirits. If that happens, my will and The Undying One’s will can also escape. The Realm of All Spirits will once again belong to the subjects of the Assyrian Empire. That is my goal. As for what the Black Blood Sovereign and The Undying One will do after they escape, I couldn’t care less.”

“If The Undying One is the cancer of the human empire, then the Black Blood Sovereign, as a demon sovereign, is the sworn enemy of the Elven Empire! But I have no conflict with them, nor with the Elven Empire.”

“I might as well tell you: place the Crystal Skulls of the four Wizard Kings on the pedestals in the temple’s sacrificial pit, and the Black Blood Sovereign will be able to break free from the shackles of the Realm of All Spirits. Its power will increase fourfold, but that will still be its weakest moment. If your Elven Empire takes the opportunity to kill it then, you can retrieve ‘Freya’s Tear’.”

Speaking in the tone of an Elven Empire special envoy, Imosen retorted, “Why should I believe you?”

“It doesn’t matter if you believe me or not. I can let you leave the Underground Tunnel.” The Lord of Sorrow’s voice grew fainter until it faded away. “Although you’ve done me a great favor, I will definitely release and expel the Black Blood Sovereign, it will just take more time… Once the Black Blood Sovereign’s true body crawls out of the Realm of All Spirits, it will use the extraordinary effects of ‘Freya’s Tear’ to forge a perfect body. What price is the Elven Empire prepared to pay to eliminate a demon sovereign with a perfect body?”

Chapter 810: Arrangements Before the Final Battle

The Lord of Sorrow’s withdrawal was absolute. Imosen sent out all the servants under his control to scout the nearby tunnels and underground halls but found not a single Undead Insectoid. It seemed they were truly letting the expedition team leave the underground kingdom.

Charlotte worried this was a trap set by the Lord of Sorrow, a deliberate ploy to lure the expedition team out of the easily defensible great hall. Once they entered an area with multiple passages, he could send his legions of undead to encircle and annihilate them, thereby capturing his target, Imosen.

She had the Wizard use his undead servants to further expand the scouting and alert range. Only after Imosen confirmed that the way ahead was clear of Undead Insectoids did the expedition team march at full speed, returning to the surface via their original route.

The snow-covered mountains were bitingly cold, the temperature several times lower than in the underground tunnels. Beldina shivered uncontrollably, quickly hugging the fluffy Bear-Dog “White Bread” for warmth. Seeing this, Charlotte’s heart softened. She ordered the fifth-level Sourceblood Warrior, Shak, to take a squad of soldiers down the mountain to find some wood, build simple shanties, and start a fire for warmth.

In their first chaotic battle with the Undead Insectoids, the expedition team had lost almost all their winter cloaks and most of their daily supplies. This hadn’t seemed like a problem in the warmer underground tunnels, but back on the surface, the sudden plunge into the harsh, cold environment was unbearable for some. The Knights of House of Randell, the Ferocious warriors, and the Sourceblood Warriors were not afraid of the cold, and the Halfling adventurer Tiantian was naturally resilient. However, Dayn, Imosen, Beldina, the Alchemical militia craftsmen, and the sword-wielding handmaidens needed a warm fire to get through the coming night.

Father Dayn, like a stingy miser, cherished every bit of his holy power. Even as he trembled from the cold, he was unwilling to use his divine arts to fight off the icy wind. He took a dirty bearskin cloak from a sword-wielding handmaiden, glanced at the huddled figures of Imosen and his daughter sharing a single felt blanket, and draped the cloak over himself with a smile. “Let’s find a place sheltered from the wind first. We’ll get used to the low temperature in a bit… We’ve all undergone body reconstruction at least once; we won’t freeze to death that easily.”

Imosen let out a loud sneeze and rubbed his red nose, hugging his chubby, precious daughter tighter. “Right, right, right. There’s a big rock over there that can block the wind…”

“You’re not going anywhere. Stay right here!” the Dragonkin handmaiden Laila commanded imperiously. She wore a leather armor vest and a short battle skirt, her snow-white waist and long, shapely thighs exposed, yet she felt no cold and could not comprehend the others’ suffering.

His Highness Randell’s Dragonkin handmaidens were now the strongest combatants in the group. Since Victor had left the team, they rarely bothered to speak to anyone else. But now that Laila had spoken, Dayn and Imosen were both at a loss.

An idea struck Charlotte. She turned and ordered, “Reno, have the Dragon-Lizard war beasts dig a pit. Then have the craftsmen build a windbreak wall with stones.”

Reno, now a fifth-level Source-Blood Militia, nodded. He chose a nearby spot and commanded the four immensely powerful Dragon-Lizard war beasts to use their hard, sharp claws to tear through the snow and break the rock. They quickly dug a large pit. The Alchemical militia piled up stones to form a low wall, blocking the howling wind. Everyone jumped into the pit. A sword-wielding handmaiden lit their remaining charcoal, melted a pot of snow, and Imosen, huddled by the marching furnace, lifted a wooden cup. He took a sip of hot water, felt warmth spread through his entire body, and said, “This is much more comfortable… I’ll rest for a bit, then I’ll use my undead servants to retrieve the items we abandoned in the tunnels.”

“…Have them continue to stand guard in the tunnels.”

Charlotte took Beldina from the Wizard’s side, sat down gracefully with her long legs elegantly crossed to one side, leaning against a thick-furred Alchemical Warhound. In a soft but serious voice, she said, “Your Excellency Imosen, first, let’s talk about what the Lord of Sorrow said to you.”

Imosen recalled for a moment, then recounted his entire conversation with the Lord of Sorrow in detail. Finally, he said helplessly, “I didn’t understand a single thing he told me.”

The Lord of Sorrow had revealed information about The Undying One, the human empire, the Elven Empress, a demon sovereign, the Realm of All Spirits, the Four Seasons Wizard King, and more. It wasn’t just Imosen who was confused; even Dayn, a High-ranked Priest of the Radiant Church, was completely baffled.

Beldina, who had been frightened during the previous battle, had now recovered her spirits. Her eyes darted around mischievously. Charlotte smiled slightly and let her go off to play with the Halfling Tiantian, Caligula, and “White Bread.”

“Let’s stick to what we understand,” the female knight said, removing her helm, her voice gentle. “The Lord of Sorrow said She was the Despair Wizard King of the Assyrian Empire fifteen hundred years ago. Because of the destructive actions of a human team, The Anomaly occurred in the Realm of All Spirits, and the demon sovereign inside—the Black Blood Sovereign—awakened and extended a tentacle from the Realm of All Spirits… Looking at the timeline, isn’t this the very incident caused over fifteen hundred years ago when the Inquisitor-General of the Radiant Church’s Inquisition, the ancestor Paladin of the Trigovar family, destroyed the Assyrians’ Blood Sacrifice ritual?”

The clergy of the Inquisition had destroyed the Assyrian Wizard King’s Blood Sacrifice ritual, leading to the demon’s reawakening in the Realm of All Spirits and breaking the balance between the Ant-man monsters and the Assyrian Empire. But ancestor Trigovar had known nothing of the subsequent events this had triggered. Now, Dayn was here on behalf of the Radiant Church to atone for the Paladin’s transgression. A sense of “fate is a curious thing” welled up in the company priest’s heart.

In truth, this feeling was a product of the difference in time scales. For the Black Blood Sovereign and the Lord of Sorrow, from the moment the incident occurred in the Realm of All Spirits to their imminent escape, over fifteen hundred years had passed in the human kingdoms. More than a dozen Pontiffs and Popes had come and gone.

The Radiant Church’s legacy was unbroken. Even if Dayn had no connection to the Trigovar Paladin from fifteen hundred years ago, their stances were fundamentally aligned. He stated righteously, “The Assyrians’ worship of demons is an unforgivable evil.”

Charlotte, like most nobles, was quick to blame the Church whenever their family suffered losses. In this underground expedition, House of Randell had sacrificed eleven powerful Sourceblood Warriors, and it turned out the entire affair, including the Ant-man invasion of the Randell Fief, was a disaster caused by a Church Paladin. Habitually, she took a verbal jab at Father Dayn.

Still, Dayn, who wielded the power of divine arts, was a crucial member of the expedition force. Charlotte suppressed her resentment, her long lashes lowering. “If only Master were here. He would surely know what the Lord of Sorrow is planning.”

“I am here.”

A voice vibrated through the air. Charlotte leaped to her feet, looking around in all directions, and cried out in joyous surprise, “Darling, is that you? Where are you?”

“Don’t look for me. We are very far apart, but you are all within my domain. I can hear everything you say,” Victor’s voice resounded nearby.

Charlotte covered her red lips with her hand, her beautiful eyes shimmering with tears as she asked, her heart pounding, “Darling, are you all right?”

“Don’t worry, I’m fine.” Victor’s voice, carried by vibrating wind elements, traveled across the vast distance. “The Lord of Sorrow let you go because She is chasing and herding me and the Elven city-state’s scout squad. So time is short. All of you, listen carefully…”

“First, the Realm of All Spirits is a soul plane constructed by the Assyrians, similar to the Radiant Church’s Pool of Holy Power, but much smaller. The Assyrian Shamans rely on the Realm of All Spirits to gain their extraordinary power. The foundation of the Realm of All Spirits is the Black Blood Sovereign. To be precise, She was once an exceptionally powerful Ancient God, on par with a demon sovereign. The mythical nine-headed hydra has memories of Her, calling Her the King of the Spirit Realm.”

“In ancient times, the King of the Spirit Realm created the Gros Insectoids, opened up the subterranean world, and battled the demons of the Abyss. She killed countless demons and even once invaded the Abyss, but in the endless fighting, the King of the Spirit Realm was also assimilated by the demons of the Abyss. Ultimately, the demons of the Abyss defeated the Gros Insectoids, and the King of the Spirit Realm, having grasped demonic authority, led her insectoid claws back to the surface world and waged a great war against the ancient Elven Empire. The Elven Empire’s Moon Goddess killed the King of the Spirit Realm and seized most of Her authority, thereby creating the Spider Lady—the embodiment of death and rage—to lead the Elven Empire’s legions into the subterranean world and stop the demons of the Abyss from invading this world.”

“The King of the Spirit Realm did not perish completely. Her residual will and power split into three: the Abyssal demon Black Blood Sovereign, the Undying One, the Ant-man Empress, and the Assyrian Empire’s Four Seasons Wizard King. For a long time, the Assyrian Shamans used the power of the Black Blood Sovereign to fight the Ant-man monsters. That is, until over fifteen hundred years ago, when the Paladin of the Trigoval family destroyed the Assyrian Empire’s Blood Sacrifice ritual, causing the will of the Black Blood Sovereign to reawaken… What the Lord of Sorrow said is likely true. To protect the all-important Realm of All Spirits, the four great Assyrian Wizard Kings chose to sacrifice themselves, entering the Realm of All Spirits in soul form to seal the Black Blood Sovereign and prevent Her from escaping and completely destroying the realm.”

“The Assyrian Empire lost its leaders and fell into decline. The Assyrian Shamans began constructing tomb altars, sacrificing themselves to strengthen the four Wizard Kings. The Assyrians no longer had the power to resist the great army of the Ant-man monsters… However, by some unknown method, the Wizard Kings in the Realm of All Spirits also managed to trap the primary will of the Ant-man Empress within the realm, thus preventing the Ant-man legions from attacking the descendants of the Assyrian Empire.”

“Now, the elite of the Elven Empire have entered the Assyrian Temple and are preparing to draw out the Black Blood Sovereign’s power. A drastic change is about to occur in the Realm of All Spirits and the area around the temple.”

Victor gave the expedition team no opportunity to ask questions, continuing, “You have two tasks. First, take Beldina and the Crystal Skull to the southwest corner of the temple’s fourth-level outer wall. I will have Mewen retrieve the Crystal Skull before noon tomorrow. If Mewen has not appeared by noon, you are to leave the temple immediately, cross to the west side of the Asoerta Mountains, and follow the river to find the settlement of the Assyrian descendants. We will regroup there.”

“If Mewen appears and takes the Crystal Skull, you will follow Laila into a tomb chamber. Find a Dwarf warrior covered in thorns in the mountain’s tunnels as quickly as possible… Dayn, first place a Holy Light beacon on that Dwarf, then try to find a way to wake him. After that, you don’t need to worry about him. Leave the Asoerta Mountains immediately. Get as far away as you can, but do not exceed the range of Imosen’s control over the Biological Aberrations.”

“Imosen, at noon four days from now, you must guide Philip III to the temple. As soon as you see the Black Blood Sovereign, immediately have Philip III flee north along the Asoerta Mountains. Dayn, remember to use Father Miller’s holy power crystals to cast a divine art on Imosen to protect his soul.”

“…The undead of the Gros Insectoids controlled by the Lord of Sorrow are closing in again. I have to go.”

The voice from the vibrating air became hurried. When had His Highness Randell ever sounded so pressed?

Charlotte felt her heart clench. Tears streamed down her face as she choked out, “Victor, Victor… you have to come back safely.”

The mountain wind resumed its mournful howl. Other than that, there was no other sound. Charlotte’s shoulders shook as she sobbed quietly. The others all wore grim expressions, except for the Dragonkin handmaidens Laila and Dili, who looked unconcerned.

Charlotte glanced at them and couldn’t help but flare up, demanding, “Aren’t you worried about Master?”

Laila snorted in disdain, lifting her elegantly curved, pointed chin proudly. “Ignorant weakness… No matter the distance, My King and I are always together.”

Dili covered her mouth and giggled. “The King is with me, too.”

Charlotte’s slender, willow-like brows threatened to rise. Had it been any of Victor’s other lovers, she would have inevitably shot back a sharp retort at the smug Dragonkin handmaidens. But her nature was, after all, frail. Her beautiful eyes grew dim and vacant.

Things had become so critical, yet Lady Charlotte still had the mind for rivalry and jealousy with the Dragonkin handmaidens… Dayn shook his head inwardly. He cleared his throat and suggested, “Shall we move to the location His Highness specified now?”

Charlotte immediately came to her senses and nodded. “Yes, let’s leave now.”

The expedition team packed their things and ran toward the majestic, towering Assyrian Temple. At the base of the temple, Charlotte had Tao De and Macy set up camp. She then took Beldina and, along with Laila and Dili, climbed the outer wall of the temple to the southwest corner of the fourth level.

Near noon the next day, the slender, graceful figure of the Dragonkin handmaiden Mewen appeared above the temple. She was wearing the standard-issue leather armor of a sword-wielding handmaiden, which was spattered with blood and had several holes in it. Her iconic horned helm was gone, and her azure hair was tied in a simple ponytail.

Laila looked her over and asked, “You transformed?”

“I transformed three times. I’ve used up all my spare leather armor,” Mewen said flatly, taking the leather pouch containing the Crystal Skull from Charlotte’s hand.

Charlotte frowned and pressed, “How are things with you all?”

“Not good. The war beasts are almost all wiped out, only one Dragon-Lizard is left. Twenty-six people are dead, including three sword-wielding handmaidens. The clothes Fugerui and I are wearing were stripped off them,” Mewen said with a shake of her head, her tone nonchalant.

The temple expedition team had lost over a third of its strength. Charlotte could imagine the intensity of the battles they had endured. She couldn’t help but ask with concern, “Are Lord Narsen and the family knights and Ferocious warriors all right?”

Mewen tilted her head and thought for a moment. “They’re all alive. Rogers lost an arm. Red Wolf was blinded, but he advanced to Silver rank, and Narsen advanced too.”

“What? Lord Narsen advanced to Gold-rank Ferocious Warrior?!” Charlotte cried out in astonishment, completely overlooking Red Wolf, who had advanced to a Silver-rank Ferocious warrior.

“He should have… In a little while, the remaining sword-wielding handmaidens from the squad will fall back. You take them with you. Master originally wanted Rogers to leave with you, but he refused.” After speaking, Mewen paid Charlotte no more mind. She reached out to pat Beldina’s head and said to her, “Master says you know what you must do?”

The little girl nodded obediently several times and pointed toward the top of the temple. “I can feel it. There’s something important in the very top spire.” She hesitated for a moment, then turned to Charlotte and asked, “My Lady, can Rogers’s arm and Red Wolf’s eyes grow back?”

Looking into Beldina’s pure, untainted eyes, Charlotte felt a pang of shame. She had been thrilled and overjoyed that her family had gained a Gold-rank powerhouse, completely disregarding the wounded and disabled Rogers and Red Wolf, and the elite warriors who had sacrificed their lives.

The female knight gathered Beldina into her arms and said softly, “They will… As long as they can come home alive, a High-ranked Priest from the Church can heal their arms and eyes.”

“Mm-hmm,” Beldina nodded with great force, her expression serious. “I hope they can all come home alive.”

Chapter 811: Slaying the Demon

The tenth floor of the temple.

The roars of battle echoed through the towering, gloomy great hall. Gory corpses lay twisted in bizarre postures on the ground, which was coated in foul-smelling Black Blood. Some were human, but most were grotesque Black Blood Demons.

Near a passageway, the warriors of the Randell Expeditionary Force were locked in a bloody struggle with the demons, covering for several sword-wielding handmaidens who were retreating through the passage toward the temple’s outer wall. Their expressions were cold and they fought in grim silence. The Adamantine war halberds in their hands were caked in a layer of Black Blood, their original appearance long since obscured. The silverlight potions, specifically designed to counter Black Blood-kind and Undead Creatures, had long ago been worn away by the demons’ flesh and blood, losing their former effectiveness.

The expeditionary force’s main opponents were a type of half-man, half-dog demon. Their skin was smooth, hairless, and a ghoulish, deathly cyan-gray. They were lean and lanky, but their muscles were full and exaggerated. Their bodies resembled those of humanoids, yet they ran on all fours like wolves. Their heads were shaped like a fox’s, with a long snout filled with two rows of sharp teeth. Their prominent canines were hollow, curved fangs. Though they looked like wolves, they were exceptionally agile. Their palms and soles, aside from their sharp claws, were not much different from human hands and feet, allowing them to scale stone walls with ease and launch leaping attacks from above.

Klaus, the senior knight, believed these Canine Demons were Assyrians who had been corrupted by Black Blood. Rogers couldn’t tell if they had once been Assyrians or beasts, nor did he care. All he could remember was that the woman he loved had died under the claws of a Canine Demon. Although she had been a brave and skilled sword-wielding handmaiden, the young Ferocious warrior could not accept the fact that she had died protecting him.

Rogers’s eyes were as blood-red as the Canine Demons’, as if a fire burned within them. He gripped a heavy, broad-bladed battleaxe in one hand, resembling a wounded, berserk bear. His war boots thundered on the stone floor. A ferocious shoulder charge sent a Canine Demon flying more than ten meters. The axe blade swung in a vicious arc, instantly cleaving two pouncing Canine Demons into four pieces. Before the viscous Black Blood and foul entrails could even hit the ground, the enraged Rogers charged to a comrade’s side, slaying the three Canine Demons that had been surrounding him. The excessive force tore open the wound on his left arm again. Hot blood soaked through his bandage, and a crimson mist swirled around him, making him look even more demonic than the Black Blood Canine Demons.

Berserk. The more grievous the wound, the more powerful the attack.

Rogers’s strength and speed far exceeded their usual limits. Without taking the specially formulated berserk potion, he had entered a berserk state on his own.

A hand clad in scale armor lightly pushed his shoulder. In his berserk state, Rogers actually spun half a circle on the spot, his wrist caught by the senior knight, Klaus.

“The Canine Demons are retreating. You should catch your breath and treat your wounds.” The young senior knight’s gaze was as firm as bedrock, and he made no effort to hide his concern for his friend.

“It’s not over. A big one is coming,” Rogers said, his reddened eyes staring into the darkness on the other side of the great hall.

The remaining Canine Demons now all clung to the corners of the hall, rapidly scaling the stone walls and disappearing silently into the shadows, like hyenas fleeing a saber-toothed beast.

Heavy footsteps echoed from the other end of the hall, like a drumstick hammering against Klaus’s heart. The air grew so oppressive he felt he could barely breathe.

A Knight who cultivated Aura had very high mental resistance, their reason able to overcome their emotions. For the mere sound of footsteps to shake Klaus’s spirit meant that the enemy possessed the Touch of the Mind.

It had to be a Gold rank Black Blood Demon. And its massive size implied overwhelming power and incredible resilience!

Four dark crimson eyes materialized in the dim great hall, and then a large, hazy black shadow with indistinct outlines took shape. It was about 4.8 meters tall. As it drew closer, its ferocious form became clear. This was a massive, powerful demon, combining the features of a Giant Rhinoceros Beast, a bear, and a dog. Its thick limbs were like pillars, and its entire body looked as if it were sculpted from knotted, bulging muscles, its sheer strength creating a visceral, soul-shaking impact. Its massive head had four blood-red eyes, filled with greed, cruelty, and cunning. Yellowish mucus dripped continuously from its gaping maw of exposed fangs.

“Heh, this big dog is here for some meat. No wonder those Canine Demons were all scared off. I bet it can’t digest the armor on my body,” Brandon quipped as he walked over. The tight grip on his sword hilt showed he was not as relaxed as he appeared.

Klaus said calmly, “Look at its skin. It’s smooth and hairless, just like the Canine Demons, like our human skin. I estimate it’s also a demon transformed from an Assyrian.”

“I can’t see, but this one won’t be easy… It’s more agile than you think,” Red Wolf said in a low voice. As he spoke, he silently shifted his position in the shadows.

Brandon didn’t look at Red Wolf. The man’s eyes were blind, giving him an extremely low presence. Under the cover of darkness, he was difficult to spot. However, the Knight trusted Red Wolf’s judgment. Believing that a close-quarters fight with the large demon was unwise, he released his sword hilt and took two Adamantine javelins coated with silverlight potion from a Sourceblood Warrior. His tone was fierce as he said, “Let’s kill it, then give it a name. I’ve already thought of one. Let’s call it the ‘Four-Eyed Demon Dog.’”

“…Brandon, you’re terrible at naming things.”

“A terrible demon deserves a terrible name!”

As if on cue, the demon across the hall opened its bloody maw and let out a heaven-shaking roar at the Randell Expeditionary Force. The sound wave thundered through the great hall, shaking dust and rubble from the ceiling. Its greedy gaze lingered on the Ferocious warriors and Knights but ignored all types of alchemical creatures. It stopped howling, lumbered over to the corpse of a Canine Demon, and slowly began to chew on it.

The Canine Demon’s stomach was torn open, and the remains of a Bear-Dog inside fell to the ground. The giant demon stuck out its tongue, licked it up, and glanced at the expeditionary force with its four eyes, its look full of intimidation and wariness, along with a barely perceptible hint of bloodlust.

“…It wants to eat me.”

Narsen strode over from behind, carrying two Adamantine beheading swords. His features were the same as ever, but his gaze, once like a steel awl, had become gentle and bright, his eyes like they were carved from flawless yellow glaze.

Brandon turned to the side and exclaimed in pleasant surprise, “My lord, you’re awake!”

Narsen nodded and said, “My spiritual realm has stabilized. Lady Fugerui still needs a bit more time to recover her vigor.”

Fugerui, with her green hair, green eyes, and twin horns, was being protected by several Sourceblood Warriors. She was leaning against a corner, using visualization to recover her vigor. She had transformed into her Dragon-form four times and now needed a longer time to recuperate.

Klaus shifted his gaze from the Dragonkin handmaiden and asked Narsen, “My lord, I suggest we maintain a standoff with this demon for now. It seems to have decent wisdom. It might retreat on its own once Lady Fugerui awakens or Lady Mewen returns.”

“Letting it escape would also be a problem.” Narsen shook his head, then patted Rogers’s shoulder. “You’ve gained the ability to spontaneously go berserk, but don’t let the rage control your mind. Otherwise, you’ll never be able to ignite the fire of the mind and become a Silver rank warrior.”

The blood-red light in Rogers’s eyes quickly faded. He lowered his head and mumbled, “Yes, Tutor. I understand.”

“You don’t understand a thing!” Narsen cursed, then raised his Adamantine beheading sword and pointed it at the demon. “This Black Blood creature has a tough Physique. You could strike it ten times and not kill it, but if it hits you once, you’re dead. Its size advantage works on me too, but its heart is filled with boiling desire. When its desire overwhelms its reason, killing it will be no trouble at all.”

The beheading swords in Narsen’s hands hummed and vibrated. The dried Black Blood flaked off the blades, revealing a sharp, purple-gold sheen.

“Ten men, take the Dragon-Lizard war beasts and go kill it!”

The two Knights and two Ferocious warriors all stared blankly for a moment. Narsen, while applying silverlight potion to his beheading swords, chuckled. “You think I’m going to fight it one-on-one? Am I that stupid?”

Seeing the Dragon-Lizard beasts and ten warriors charging, the giant demon actually turned and fled. It possessed a speed that belied its size, quickly putting distance between itself, the Alchemical Dragon-Lizards, and the Alchemical militia. At the opportune moment, it would first kill the more formidable-looking Dragon-Lizards, then pick off the remaining human warriors one by one.

Suddenly, the demon sensed that the most delicious-smelling human had overtaken the Dragon-Lizard war beasts. Wielding Adamantine beheading swords, he leaped into the air, preparing to strike its back. A cunning light flashed in the demon’s four eyes. Seizing the opportunity while its enemy was in mid-air with nothing to push off of, it spun around abruptly and flung its foreclaws in a ferocious horizontal swipe.

The immense force made the air itself scream. The demon struck nothing but air.

It was stunned to realize that the scene it had just witnessed was merely an illusion. The delicious and powerful human warrior had not leaped into the air at all. He had charged forward, sword in hand, right into the gap left by the demon’s missed attack. Two silvery-white sword lights, like twin bolts of lightning, hacked toward the demon’s head.

The demon only had time to shield its vital head with its forelimbs. The lightning-fast sword light sliced two wounds deep enough to see bone into its forelimbs, and the holy power-infused silverlight potion prevented them from Healing. The demon let out a piercing shriek. Its rage turned its skin blood-red and its muscles bulged, causing it to swell a full size larger. It backhanded the human warrior, sending him flying.

Narsen had already raised his sword to block the demon’s attack. His body shot toward the great hall’s wall like a cannonball. He adjusted his posture in mid-air, and his feet landed on the wall. As if his soles had grown roots, he stuck firmly to the surface.

At least, that’s what the giant demon saw: the human warrior was fixed to the wall, in a Posture that suggested he was about to push off for a counterattack.

It didn’t understand how its opponent could stick to a vertical wall as if squatting on the ground. Its rage doubled its strength, but it also burned away what little reason it had. With a turn of its hind legs, it charged toward the human warrior who had wounded it.

However, the human warrior pushed off with his legs, counter-charging with the speed of a thunderclap. He was so fast the demon couldn’t react. All it saw were two intersecting arcs of silvery-white sword light growing larger and larger, deeply imprinted in its eyes, right down to its soul.

This time, it was not an illusion, because the illusion had already occurred.

Narsen wasn’t a fly, of course, so he couldn’t just perch on a wall for an extended period. The moment his feet touched the wall, he had pushed off, launching himself at the demon. The demon, charging at him without any defense, was essentially offering its head to be chopped off.

According to the spiritual cultivation theories of Earth, the Golden Toad Mystic Form had this concept for the realm of the Touch of the Mind: “the senses stop, but the spirit moves as it desires.”

This refers to the spirit transcending the limits of the physical senses, with the spirit guiding the body. But in this world of extraordinary power, spiritual power could affect the mind. Whether Narsen’s body had moved or not, his will to fight had already projected onto his target’s mind, making the opponent see the illusion that he had either already pounced or had not moved at all.

The Touch of the Mind manifested in many ways. The Church had its own methods for cultivating it, while Narsen cultivated a secret art of the mind born from the Golden Toad Stance and the Spirit Monkey Stance. His mind was pure, and he trained diligently. With Victor providing him with new secret arts and cultivation resources, his persistent efforts finally allowed him to break through to the spiritual realm he had long dreamed of.

Narsen’s Touch of the Mind was different from that of Tournans and Caligula.

Though the Touch of the Mind was ever-changing, in combat, it could be interpreted through the three elements of “point,” “line,” and “plane.”

These three combat elements of the Touch of the Mind coexisted and were not isolated; it was just that each person’s focus would be different.

Tournans’s Touch of the Mind could destroy an enemy’s willpower, making them weak. In the enemy’s eyes, Tournans could appear as a speck of dust or a giant, reflecting their own insignificance. Once their courage was shattered, they couldn’t muster their strength and could only wait for death.

Caligula’s Touch of the Mind had no particularly unusual manifestations, but his strikes always hit their mark, striking his opponent’s weak points, killing them either in that instant or in the seconds that followed. It was somewhat similar to Sylvia’s three-second Precognition, but Sylvia’s was a panoramic Precognition, while Caligula’s was only effective on a few targets he had mentally locked onto. The time he killed seven Gnolls in different locations with a single sword strike was an example of this.

If Tournans’s Touch of the Mind was the spatially-focused “plane,” and Caligula’s was the temporally-focused “line,” then Narsen’s Touch of the Mind was the spiritually-focused “point.”

His spiritual power was focused into a single point, piercing the demon’s mind and making it unable to distinguish between reality and illusion. But the demon’s body was still strong, its muscles like armor, its bones harder than refined iron.

If Narsen couldn’t kill it in a few strikes, and it managed to counterattack even once, Narsen would likely be the one to die.

However, as a Gold rank Ferocious warrior, Narsen had also mastered the elements of “plane” and “line” in addition to “point.”

The light of the sword, carrying the will of death, reflected in the demon’s mind. It felt as if it had already died under the human warrior’s swords. The emotion of anger was replaced by a gray, rigid sense of death. Its red, swollen body deflated like a punctured ball.

The first sword light slashed across the demon’s face. The cold, silver-white blade cut through flesh but failed to sever the skull. However, the powerful force knocked the demon’s head aside, exposing its thick neck.

The second sword light followed immediately, striking the demon’s neck. The blade cut into the taut, knotted muscles, slicing halfway through the neck before getting stuck on the demon’s vertebrae.

Just as the heavily wounded demon was about to shake off the shadow of death and regain its senses, Narsen exhaled a long stream of air from his mouth and nose. The old force had not yet dissipated when a new one was born. A flash of light like a bolt of white silk burst from the demon’s neck.

This was a new combat technique evolved from the combination of the Randell Combat Breathing Method and the Vibration Secret Technique—the Breath-Gathering Slash.

Only then did the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard charge to the demon’s side and begin to viciously tear at the headless body. Incredibly, it was still being ground into the dust by the instinctive reactions of the demon’s corpse.

The battle erupted in an instant and ended in an instant. The Bear of the Northlands stood with his sword, and the giant demon lay dead in the great hall.

Ferocious warriors generally did not hold a high status, a fact related to their actual combat prowess. In his early days, Narsen had dueled with Lady Judy’s brother in the woods; he had been struck first and only won due to the defense of his Ant-man Thorium Armor. After igniting the fire of the mind, he had been ordered by Victor to intercept the Golden Dawn Sparrow Earl; if the Alchemical militia had not sacrificed their lives to save him, he would have been run through by Knight Horton, who had just broken through to the Silver rank. Now, he could slay a Gold rank Black Blood Demon.

Only by mastering the Touch of the Mind could a Ferocious warrior become exceptionally powerful, and only then could they be considered a true extraordinary being.

Before Brandon and the others could recover from the shock of a Gold rank demon being killed by Narsen in four strikes, the Dragonkin handmaiden Mewen returned to the great hall from outside the temple.

She glanced nonchalantly at the enormous demon corpse and called out to Narsen, “Commander, I have retrieved the item Master had Lady Charlotte bring.”

Narsen had used this powerful Black Blood Demon to test his blade, a gift to himself for his promotion. But he wasn’t overly excited. He walked back with his beheading swords in hand, arriving before Mewen to ask, “Lady Mewen, did you see Master?”

Mewen shook her head, raised her chin slightly, and said proudly, “No, but My King spoke with me. The King told me to tell you that the Black Blood Demons in the temple probably won’t bother us anymore. They’ll go look for trouble with the elven forces. When the elven forces break into the Black Blood Sovereign’s lair, we need to find a way to toss the thing we got to the elves.”

Narsen removed his helmet and scratched the back of his head, asking in confusion, “I don’t understand. We killed so many demons in the temple. Why would the Black Blood Demons let us go and turn to fight the elven forces?”

There’s more meat in the elven forces… Brandon only grumbled this in his head, wisely keeping his thoughts to himself. He had already noticed that the Black Blood Demons ignored the Sourceblood Warriors, Dragon-Lizard war beasts, Elite Guards, warhounds, and Dragonkin handmaidens in their group. They were only interested in the Ferocious warriors, Knights, sword-wielding handmaidens, and Bear-Dogs.

Klaus added from the side, “The Halfling Bobo went missing during the previous battle. I think he rendezvoused with the elven forces below and probably leaked all our intelligence to them.”

Mewen nodded. “My King said Bobo’s stealthy departure is irrelevant to the bigger picture… He also said that those elves and dwarves are more cunning than he imagined. Although they aren’t on the same floor as us, they deliberately moved slower than we did. The Black Blood Sovereign tried to eliminate us first before dealing with them. However, the elven forces are already approaching the Black Blood Sovereign’s hiding place. Since we won this battle and proved we’re a tough nut to crack, the Black Blood Sovereign will have to concentrate its forces to defend against the surprise attack from the elves and dwarves.”

Narsen rubbed the stubble on his chin and had a realization. “So that’s how it is. I thought all these Black Blood Demons were here to fight over food.”

In the center of the great hall, a large patch of Black Blood and shattered remains was spread out in a radial pattern. This was originally a super-giant Black Blood demon. Before it could display any of its abilities, it had been killed in a single blow by Mewen with the Saron Demon Iron short spear, “Umbra.” The rampaging void wind element had erupted from within its body with terrifying destructive power, and its massive frame had been sliced to pieces by the wind elements.

After this super-giant demon died, its leftover flesh and blood attracted countless Black Blood-kind demons. In comparison, the Gold rank demon Narsen had just slain was nothing.

Mewen carried Victor’s personal weapons, “Soul Rend” and “Umbra,” with her. She could use “Soul Rend,” but she couldn’t control “Umbra.” In reality, the leader-class Black Blood demon Narsen and the others had encountered was killed by Victor through Mewen’s hand, but Mewen disdained to explain this to Narsen.

She said flatly, “Let’s find a cleaner place to rest first. When the elven forces confront the Black Blood Sovereign, we need to be there too… The King will personally intervene when necessary to kill the Black Blood Sovereign.”

Note 1: From Zhuangzi’s Cook Ding Cutting an Ox: “At a time like this, I see with my spirit and not with my eyes. My senses stop, but my spirit moves as it desires.”

Chapter 812: The Cage

”

“The Shaman carves out the captive’s heart on the altar. The Azoretta Warrior then severs the captive’s head, letting it roll down the temple steps. Shattered heads are useless, their bodies belong to the Warriors; but intact heads contain the captive’s soul, and they belong to the Shaman.”

”

”

“The heart-carving Shaman hopes the captive’s head remains whole after rolling to the bottom of the stairs, for this proves the captive’s soul is strong enough to be made into a magical artifact. The Warrior hopes the captive’s head shatters, so the soul can only return to its headless body. It will then flow with the blood from the neck into the Sacrificial Pit as the Warrior’s offering to the All Spirits, and the All Spirits will, in turn, grant the Warrior strength.”

”

”

“The heart-carving Shaman’s little slave waits at the bottom of the stairs with a net to catch the rolling heads; the Warrior’s little slave waits at the bottom of the stairs with a club to smash the rolling heads. Any head the net-bearer misses, the club-wielder smashes. Any head the club-wielder misses, the net-bearer catches. The subjects of Azoretta roar with laughter, our ancestors in the Realm of All Spirits rejoice with us. We praise the great Wizard King, praise the Shamans, praise the Warriors. They will one day conquer new lands in the Realm of All Spirits, just like the spirits of our ancestors; we will one day be reborn in the Realm of All Spirits, just like the spirits of our ancestors…”

”

In a corridor on the seventh floor of the temple, the Dwarf Prophet from the elven imperial capital of Aylanta, Fantwick Fire-eye, was hunched over a stone slab, intently deciphering the text inscribed upon it. Several Dwarf Prophet apprentices were gathered around him.

The elven forces’ slow progress through the temple was partly due to the Dwarf Prophets taking their time to catalogue the Azoretta artifacts and translate the stone inscriptions.

The erudite Dwarf Prophets proceeded in fits and starts. While the human expeditionary team was engaged in a fierce battle with Black Blood Demons on the upper floors of the temple, the elven forces encountered little resistance. Their commander tacitly allowed the unit to advance slowly, giving the Dwarf Prophets more time to enrich their academic reserves.

However, it was possible the Black Blood Demons in the temple were deliberately avoiding the elven forces. The Dark Elf priestess could draw power from a demon chief. According to Sashirtana, her doing so would weaken the Black Blood Sovereign’s authority, whereas when a Black Blood Demon was killed by a human, its power of Law would return to the Black Blood Sovereign itself.

To avoid losing more of its power, the Black Blood Sovereign had every reason to deal with the threat of the human expeditionary team first before turning its full attention to the elven forces.

This was clearly not a good sign. The dying wails of demon chiefs echoed down from the upper floors of the temple, and even the few demon scouts on the seventh floor, where the elven forces were, had vanished. The commanders could well imagine that the Black Blood Sovereign had reclaimed enough power from its fallen chiefs and was preparing for the final, pitched battle.

The temple grew quiet, the air thick with the oppressive stillness that precedes a storm. But none of this could interrupt the Dwarf Prophets’ enthusiasm for unraveling the mysteries of history.

The usual radiant sunshine was gone from Elven Prince Herimion’s face. His fine brows were slightly furrowed, betraying his troubled state of mind. He paced back and forth in the corridor before finally losing his patience and saying to the old Dwarf, “Prophet Fire-eye, we have delayed far too long. I will dispatch a squad of combat professionals to escort you out now.”

Dwarves were talkative, boisterous, and stubborn, known for arguing with others even when they were in the wrong. No matter how learned a Dwarf Prophet was, he was still a Dwarf. And so, Fantwick Fire-eye began to argue with the Elven Prince.

“The Prince is in a bad mood, and very impatient,” the Halfling Bobo whispered, peeking at Herimion from behind Silverhawk City’s Chief Elder.

Sikodisi Windsong was also watching the Elven Prince. Ever since the Halfling Bobo left the human expeditionary team and found the elven forces, Herimion’s mood had been somewhat off.

To be precise, it was after Bobo mentioned the leader of the human expeditionary team—His Highness Victor Randall, a man with black hair and gold eyes, fine brows and pointed ears, as handsome as a Sky God. Upon hearing this, Prince Herimion’s expression had turned unnatural. And while Prophet Fire-eye, the giant Dwarf general Juknos, and the Moon Elf princess of Aylanta didn’t comment much, they all seemed odd.

According to Bobo’s description, the human leader, Victor Randall, resembled a Tier 7 Son of the Moon God in both appearance, temperament, and talent. Yet Sikodisi had never heard of a Greater Elf with gold eyes.

Sikodisi was now even more convinced that the elven forces from Aylanta were hiding something from Silverhawk City. Nevertheless, assisting the Dark Elf priestess in draining the Black Blood Sovereign’s authority of Law remained the primary objective of their mission. Beyond that, she thought of “Freya’s Tear”—the sacred object might hold some extraordinary significance for the Elven Prince. But she didn’t know if the leader of the human expeditionary team was also seeking the Moon Goddess’s sacred object.

Normally, if the Black Blood Sovereign’s demonic claws were attacking both the human expeditionary team and the elven forces, the two sides should join forces to face the Sovereign as it gathered its strength. Otherwise, the human team would be an uncontrollable risk factor when the elven forces engaged the Black Blood Sovereign.

If the human expeditionary team’s intentions were unclear, then the elven forces lacked the objective conditions to fight the Black Blood Sovereign. Therefore, the elven forces needed to at least make contact with the humans first. The two brothers, Bobo and Tiantian, had already laid the groundwork for a dialogue between the two sides.

However, the commanders from Aylanta never brought the matter up. Sikodisi could not understand their behavior, but she could sense the impatience in the Elven Prince’s heart.

Herimion wanted to defeat the Black Blood Sovereign first!

“The Prophet from Aylanta is deliberately stalling for time. He wants the Prince to calm down.”

Sikodisi turned her head, her dark, deep eyes fixed on Sashirtana, who was dressed in combat gear. She asked coolly, “Lady, what do you know?”

The beautiful and bewitching Dark Elf priestess shook her head gently, her dazzling purple hair swaying like waves. She smiled captivatingly. “The Viel royal family doesn’t need to inform me of everything they do… But I believe that with a third party spying on us from the sidelines, it is clearly not a good time for us to go to war with the Black Blood Sovereign.”

A proud Moon Elf Wind Whisperer huffed coldly, expressing her displeasure at Sashirtana’s display of her innate charm.

“My apologies. I’ve grown accustomed to using my innate powers; it was not my intention to target My Lord’s subordinate… Besides, I have already enslaved some helpers.” Sashirtana bowed in apology to the Wind Whisper Elf. A troop of bizarrely shaped Black Blood Demons followed behind her. They were all slaves she had captured in the temple, numbering over a hundred, including several large Black Blood-kind demons. According to the Dark Elf priestess’s judgment, they were Tier-4 demons, but not worth using the gray crystal to extract the Demon Law within them.

The Dark Elf priestess undoubtedly controlled a formidable power. Sikodisi now had to carefully consider whether she could be trusted.

Sashirtana saw what the Moon Elf was thinking and said in a low voice, “My life is in Her Majesty the Empress Regnant’s hands. She can execute me at any time.”

Sikodisi nodded silently, her wary gaze softening slightly. “But for me,” she said, “your sincerity is far from enough.”

The Dark Elf thought for a moment before saying, “The human expeditionary team has been showing goodwill towards Silverhawk City. Isn’t their leader hiding in General Moonsong’s scout squad? Those two adorable Halflings, Bobo and Tiantian, were well cared for by the humans. If General Moonsong is also safe and sound, then based on this goodwill towards Silverhawk City, Lady Windsong certainly has the right to demand sincerity from me.”

Sikodisi raised an eyebrow and retorted, “Oh? So you also agree that we should negotiate with the human expeditionary team first, Lady?”

Sashirtana said with a serious expression, “It is essential. I can provide a piece of intelligence as a condition for Silverhawk City’s negotiations with the humans… Do you see that chasm ahead? That is the Azoretta’s Sacrificial Pit, and it is also the Black Blood Sovereign’s lair. She has fully awakened and craves the nourishment of flesh and soul. She will not let us leave the temple easily… I am referring to both the humans and us.”

“Is that all? Why should I believe you? And why would the humans believe me?”

Sashirtana nodded. “I know that mere words are not enough… But right now, I can only offer the intelligence I possess. By enslaving the Black Blood Demons in the temple, I can see things that you cannot. That Sacrificial Pit is not only the Black Blood Sovereign’s lair, but also the entrance to the Realm of All Spirits. When the Black Blood Sovereign climbs out of the pit, any creature attempting to leave the temple may be dragged into the Realm of All Spirits. Just like these Black Blood Demon slaves—they were once Azoretta warriors who tried to storm the temple to defeat the Black Blood Sovereign, but were turned into demons by Her. Those who managed to escape the temple became the undead.”

“Is what you say true?” the giant Dwarf general asked in a low voice as he walked over.

The moment he spoke, everyone’s attention turned to their conversation. The Dark Elf priestess smiled. “I am being very honest right now… The great chasm in the temple’s outer wall was created by the Black Blood Sovereign. The domain power of the Realm of All Spirits has also been leaking out from that chasm. Once the Black Blood Sovereign appears, the domain power of the Realm of All Spirits will expand beyond the temple, and creatures of a lower life tier might be pulled into the Realm of All Spirits upon leaving.”

The Elven Prince and the Dwarf Prophet stopped their argument and came over. “Lady,” the prince asked, “are you saying that if we all try to leave the temple, we will alert the Black Blood Sovereign, and that our mid- and low-tier combat professionals will be trapped in the domain of the Realm of All Spirits and turned into undead creatures?”

Sashirtana sighed and shook her head. “I would advise against making such an attempt.”

The commanders exchanged glances. If what the Dark Elf priestess said was true, and the Black Blood Sovereign would not allow prey that was almost in its grasp to escape, then the consequences of a collective retreat would be more than they could bear.

“You malicious little Dark Elf wench! Why are you only telling us something so important now?” the old Dwarf Prophet demanded, his beard bristling with anger.

The Dark Elf priestess replied without a hint of guilt, “If I fail my mission, death is my only path. Of course I don’t want you to choose to leave the temple. But I do have some good news. As long as everyone stays in the temple, you won’t be drawn into the Realm of All Spirits. Killing the Black Blood Sovereign now is everyone’s only way out.”

“…Because this temple, built by the Azoretta, was originally a cage, meant to suppress the Black Blood Sovereign and the domain power of the Realm of All Spirits.”

The atmosphere froze. After a moment, the Elven Prince spoke, his voice dry. “The fact that we can’t see any Black Blood Demons moving about now… does that mean the Black Blood Sovereign has gathered its strength and is preparing to hunt us?”

“Everyone in the temple,” Sashirtana corrected.

The giant Dwarf general asked in a sullen tone, “Then what about the Centaur forces stationed outside the temple?”

“Either have them move far away from the temple, or have them come inside and hunt the Black Blood Sovereign with us.” Sashirtana’s smile was enchanting and bewitching, like a poisonous black rose. “Personally,” she said in a soft voice, “I’m inclined toward the second option.”

Chapter 813: The Trap

Outside the temple, four Forest Centaurs clad in fine armor patrolled along the mountain ridge. They were pure white, with sharp, well-defined features and lithe, agile forms. Compared to their Wild Centaur relatives, they were far more handsome, with builds that were more slender and well-proportioned.

Due to the stark physical differences between Forest Centaurs and Wild Centaurs, human scholars considered them to be two different lineages of beastmen.

This was more or less true. The Forest Centaurs did not acknowledge the Wild Centaurs as kin. The two were reproductively isolated and harbored a deep animosity toward each other, fighting on sight. Even their innate powers were completely different. Forest Centaurs were primarily attuned to the water element; they were not as strong or sturdy as Wild Centaurs, but they were more intelligent, possessed greater stamina and vigor, had keen senses and nimble bodies, and were capable of using complex ranged weaponry. They were natural mobile archers. By leveraging the superior equipment of the Elven Empire, Forest Centaurs could even execute a mass charge like heavy cavalry. Although they couldn’t compare to the Dwarves’ goat heavy cavalry, they could certainly beat the Wild Centaurs soundly.

“Who goes there?”

The Forest Centaur scouts spotted something unusual. They pulled up short, simultaneously stringing their giant crossbows and aiming at the snow-covered ground below. But they quickly lowered the powerful weapons.

A small squad of elves and dwarves was climbing the mountain slope. They were without winter cloaks, their armor caked with the stains of Black blood. They looked rather wretched, yet exuded a fierce aura, like warriors who had just fought their way out of an encirclement.

“Don’t misunderstand. We are combat professionals under the Third General of Silverhawk City.” A male Tree Elf with green hair and blue eyes was the first to leap onto the slope. He was immaculate from head to toe, carrying an elven greatbow on his back and wielding two standard-issue curved swords. He was clearly a Wind Dancer.

“Praise the Moon God. I am Olavi Moonsong, a fourth-tier Wind Dancer and a fourth-tier Wind Walk Archer. Which city-state’s centaur unit do you belong to?” The Tree Elf let out a long breath and saluted the centaur scouts with a hand to his forehead.

Hearing that they were Tree Elves from Silverhawk City, the Forest Centaurs all smiled warmly. The leader returned the salute and said, “A young elf from the Moonsong Great House. We are subjects of King Klobett, now attached to Aylanta. My name is Fildo. I once fought alongside combat professionals from the Moonsong Great House on the Great Plains. Praise the Moon God. My brothers and I are delighted to meet a scion of a great house from Silverhawk City here.”

Silverhawk City and this Forest Centaur unit had a close relationship. Olavi had not participated in the war to annihilate the Ant-men on the plains, but he had heard stories about it. He was about to ask more when a beautiful female Tree Elf leaped onto the ridge, her tone urgent. “Valiant centaur warriors of the hills, have you seen one of our companions? Oh, he’s a Greater Elf Wanderer… he’s very handsome, you’d know him if you saw him.”

A Greater Elf? And handsome, a Wanderer?

The centaurs exchanged puzzled glances. Just then, Iluth Moonsong, who had been at the back of the group, ran up and said with a steady voice, “I am General Moonsong of Silverhawk City. Can you take us to your encampment?”

The Centaur Raiders were immediately filled with respect. They saluted and said, “General, my lord, please follow us. You and your subordinates need a proper rest. There’s a Dwarf Prophet and an Elven Princess in the camp; they can check on your condition… This godforsaken place can cause some strange things to happen, making a combat professional’s spirit… tense.”

A Wanderer was not unusual, but a Greater Elf Wanderer sounded absurd. It was no wonder the centaur warriors suspected Angris Windsong’s mental state was unstable. The Silverhawk scouts were in no mood to explain and followed the centaurs to the camp, not far from the temple.

The majestic, towering temple, seen up close, left the Silverhawk scouts momentarily dazed. The Halfling, Qiqi, suddenly turned his head toward the camp, let out a shriek, and bolted over, throwing his arms around another Halfling in a mess of laughter and shouts.

“Tiantian? What are you doing here? Where’s Bobo?” Iluth Moonsong walked over with a pleasant surprise, patting the Halfling adventurer’s head.

“It’s a long story…” Tiantian made a playful face.

Seeing his relaxed state, it was clear that Bobo must be fine as well. Iluth and her companions breathed a sigh of relief. Eglok Graybeard, however, stood with his mouth agape, staring at the camp in disbelief and shouting, “Tutor Aijin! What are you doing here too?”

An old dwarf with a white beard and several other combat professionals walked out of the camp gate. It was none other than Eglok’s mentor, the Dwarf Prophet from Silverhawk City, Aijin Copperhammer.

Aijin walked over and thumped Eglok Graybeard on the head, grumbling, “Why can’t I be here? I am here, and you didn’t even know. And you have the nerve to call yourself the disciple of Silverhawk City’s Copperhammer Prophet? As punishment, you’ll copy the ancient texts fifty times when you get home!”

The young Dwarf Prophet just grinned foolishly, clutching his head. Aijin ignored him and gave Iluth a look that everyone could see, gesturing to the three combat professionals beside him to introduce them. “This is Princess Fiad Viel of Aylanta; this is the commander of the Hill Kingdom’s centaurs, Kalo Longmane; and this is Aylanta’s Dwarf Prophet, Belenwick Fire-eye… Huh, Iluth, your eyebrows have gotten thinner. I was going to introduce you as Silverhawk City’s famous thick-browed general, but I can’t do that now… Let me start over. My lords, this is our Silverhawk City’s Elven General, Iluth Moonsong. Don’t let her being a Wild Elf fool you, she’s formidable… Er, are your green eyes turning blue?”

Princess Fiad Viel, a beautiful woman with black hair and black eyes, commanded in a cold, arrogant tone, “Commander Kalo, please take General Moonsong’s subordinates to rest. As for General Moonsong herself, please come with us. I have questions for you.”

The status of a Moon Elf princess from Aylanta needed no explanation, especially since Fiad was also a priestess of the Viel royal family who served the Sun Tree. By birthright, she could command the Tree Elves and Wild Elves of Silverhawk City to stand down, but the Silverhawk scouts remained motionless, waiting for Iluth’s order.

This seemingly small act surprised the proud Fiad. Suppressing her inner doubt, she turned and walked toward the command tent without a backward glance.

The bloodline charm from Mr. Nightingale was still affecting the Silverhawk scouts, temporarily immunizing them from the pull of Princess Fiad’s bloodline. Iluth motioned for her subordinates to leave first, then followed the princess and the two Dwarf Prophets into the command tent.

In a clear and simple manner, she selectively recounted the Silverhawk scouts’ experiences, concluding with, “…We were pursued by Undead Insectoids in the Underground Tunnel. Mr. Nightingale stayed behind to cover our retreat and let us escape first… I don’t know, how is he now?”

“Victor Nightingale?” Fiad murmured the name, lost in thought. After a moment, she lifted her beautiful eyes, raised an eyebrow, and asked, “Do you think Mr. Nightingale is dead?”

Iluth’s pupils constricted. She shook her head slowly but firmly.

“General Moonsong should be able to guess Mr. Nightingale’s true identity,” Princess Fiad said, a faint, unreadable smile gracing her face as she lifted her chin toward the Dwarf Prophet from Silverhawk City.

Aijin Copperhammer stroked his white beard and said with a wry smile, “The human expeditionary team sent Tiantian to find us. Tiantian said their leader is a great lord of the human kingdom, by the name of His Highness Victor Randall. He is peerlessly handsome, with black hair, and looks more like an elf than a human… Except for his dark gold eyes, he is identical to the Mr. Victor Nightingale you described.”

Iluth felt as if a great stone that had been weighing on her heart was finally lifted. She leaned back in her chair, a lazy smile on her face, and nodded. “I should have known. But Mr. Nightingale’s eyes are black, and the human leader’s are dark gold. I’ve never heard of an elf’s eyes changing color.”

Belenwick, the Dwarf Prophet from Aylanta, interjected with an explanation, “You’ve heard the love story of the goddess Freya and the Sun Tree, haven’t you? The goddess completed the ten tasks given to Her by the Sun God Frey. From then on, every day the morning sun rises as the moon sets, and the silver moon rises as the evening sun sets. The Sun God no longer answered Freya’s calls. The goddess grew sick with longing and was despondent until one day, the Sun Tree bore a fruit, and from within it was born the world’s first Greater Elf. He was also named Frey, an avatar of the Sun God, and he became the goddess’s partner. They are the ancestors of the elves… Few elves today know that the Son of the Sun’s eyes and hair are golden.”

“What?” Iluth’s long, pointed ears twitched. She asked in shock, “Why would an avatar of the Sun God appear on the human side?”

“It is the Son of the Sun,” the Moon Elf priestess corrected Iluth’s mistake, her tone tinged with displeasure. “We worship the Moon God, but the Sun God holds the highest position in our faith. This is the teaching of the Moon God, and it must not be forgotten. Only the first Sun Elf can be called an avatar of the Sun God. Subsequent Sun Elves can only be called Son of the Sun or Child of the Sun God.”

“Praise the Moon God.” Iluth knelt on both knees, placed her hands on her forehead, and offered the most devout of salutes.

Fiad’s expression softened. She nodded and said, “As for why a Son of the Sun has appeared among humans, that is a matter of ancient secrets. But it was too long ago; not even the Dwarf Prophets can learn the truth through Post-cognition Divination.”

The Sun Tree was reborn every three hundred sixty years, and this characteristic dictated the rise and fall of political great houses. The Empire was still called the Elven Empire, but the elven dynasties were ever-changing. The great houses of dynasties from over ten thousand years ago had long since vanished, their secrets drowned in the river of history. It was quite common for the current Elven Empire to be completely unaware of things done by the ancient elven royal families.

Just imagine, even if the elven royal families recorded all their historical secrets and passed them down through generations, it would be impossible to maintain a complete legacy for even a few ten thousand years, let alone hundreds of thousands.

Iluth first nodded, then asked again, “But why are his eyes black?”

Fiad was silent for a long time, and the Dwarf Prophets also said nothing. After a good while, the Elven Princess finally asked Iluth, “It seems your squad is only missing one dwarf?”

“That would be Coelho. His soul is trapped in the Realm of All Spirits. We left him by a stone wall somewhere in the mountain passage, temporarily protected by Moonlight Thorns, but we don’t know if he’ll wake up.”

Fiad was unconcerned with the life or death of a single dwarf. She asked again, “Lord Nightingale went out of his way to take care of you?”

“Yes. Without his protection, we would likely have been wiped out in the Underground Tunnel,” Iluth replied affirmatively.

Fiad smiled a sweet, friendly smile and gently stroked the wooden staff in her hand. It was a blessing staff made from a branch of the Sun Tree. Even far from the domain of a Moonlight Tree or Sun Tree, it could help a priestess cast various blessings and nature spells.

“Lord Nightingale is, after all, the Son of the Sun of the Elven Empire. You are very fortunate to have earned His favor.” The Elven Princess gave a slight nod. “I can tell you that Aylanta sent us to Asoerta Temple this time not only to help the Underground City collect the power of the Black Blood Demon, but also with a special mission.”

“Aylanta’s Prophets divined that a Son of the Sun would appear at Asoerta Temple, and that the ‘Freya’s Tear’ within the temple was the catalyst for his birth. The High Council originally believed Prince Herimion would be the Son of the Sun… Now it seems we were mistaken.”

“There is only one Son of the Sun. If it isn’t Prince Herimion, then it must be Lord Nightingale. Regardless, we must welcome the Son of the Sun back to Aylanta.”

“General Moonsong, do you have any idea what the Son of the Sun means to the Elven Empire?” Prophet Belenwick Fire-eye continued on his own accord, “In the last three thousand years, the Elven Empire has added over one hundred and sixty new elven city-states, which means the Empire gained over one hundred and sixty more Moon Trees. This is all because, over three thousand years ago, the Empire welcomed a Son of the Sun. His name was Draven Viel Nightingale. The Viel Great House he founded has ruled the Empire for over three thousand years.”

“Nightingale? He also came from the human kingdom?” Iluth Moonsong felt her heart go numb. She asked with a blank expression.

“Yes,” the Elven Princess interjected. “His Majesty, Emperor Draven, prophesied that over three thousand years later, the Elven Empire would have a new emperor. That is why we made targeted divinations and were able to promptly detect the opportunity at Asoerta Temple. Moonsong, you must help us, help Aylanta, help the Empire to persuade Mr. Nightingale.”

Iluth forced down her tumultuous thoughts, pressed her lips together firmly, and said with difficulty, “I feel… Lord Nightingale is not willing to join the Elven Empire. He… He seems to somewhat reject his elven identity. You must have tried to perform a divination on him?”

“Haha, Fire-eye and I were injured precisely because we tried to divine Lord Nightingale. Sikodisi and the others had no choice but to follow old Fire-eye into the temple to face the Black Blood Demon lord,” Aijin Copperhammer said cheerfully. “If Tiantian hadn’t returned, I’d still be in the dark. So that’s why my divination failed—because I was divining the destiny of the Son of the Sun. My skills haven’t declined after all.”

Iluth said with some difficulty, “Lord Nightingale deliberately shook us off. I fear he is unwilling to join the Elven Empire.”

Fiad Viel stood up and declared decisively, “That is absolutely impossible!”

“You don’t understand Lord Nightingale at all… His will is unshakeable.”

“Like a god’s, right? The Sun Elf is a Demigod to begin with, so that makes it even less of a problem,” Fiad said with a beaming smile. “His Majesty Draven Viel left another prophecy. If the new Sun Elf is unwilling to accept his destiny, He will be punished by fate. As a Demigod, Lord Nightingale understands the meaning of this better than anyone and will naturally make the right choice.”

Prompted by her psychic intuition, Iluth decided not to press the issue further. She fell silent for a moment, then turned to Prophet Aijin and asked, “Lord Sikodisi is in the temple now?”

Aijin Copperhammer replied, “Yes, along with the Third Princess from Silverhawk City and two companies from the Eye of the Mysteries. They’re with Prince Herimion.”

Iluth’s expression became exceptionally grim. She took a deep breath, pulled three translucent, pure Crystal Skulls from the pack beside her, and placed them on the rug. In a solemn tone, she declared, “Asoerta Temple is a trap! We must bring these three Crystal Skulls into the temple and help Lord Sikodisi, or most of them will die in there!”

Chapter 814: Beacon

On the northern outer wall of the Asoerta Temple, there was a massive chasm. The ancient undead Black Blood Bat that Victor had previously slain had a wingspan of thirty meters alone. For a long time, it had used this fissure to enter and exit the temple, offering its captured prey to the Black Blood Sovereign within.

This alone showed just how staggering the scale of the chasm was.

Sikodisi Windsong, Chief Elder of the Silverhawk Council, entered the central great hall from a corridor on the temple’s seventh floor. As she viewed the massive chasm up close, she was lost in a momentary daze.

Some terrifying entity had, by an unknown method, shattered several levels of the temple from within, pulverizing solid megaliths and breaking through the thick outer wall. This created a great fissure nearly a hundred meters high, over forty meters at its widest and several meters at its narrowest, allowing the outside air to pour into the temple with a whimpering, howling sound, like the majestic building’s unending lament.

One could only imagine the depths of despair the Azoretta people inside the temple must have felt when they witnessed such an apocalyptic scene.

“Is this the masterpiece of the Black Blood Sovereign breaking free from Her cage? Can we really destroy Her?”

Corona Moondew, the Third Princess of Silverhawk City, spoke in a murmur, her eyes unfocused.

No one answered her question; the elves and dwarves present harbored similar doubts. But discipline and years of training had the combat professionals moving to their appointed tasks. Elven archers, carrying greatbows and sharp arrows, climbed the walls of the great hall to occupy high ground for an ambush. Squads of heavily armored Dwarf guards and lightly armored Elven War Dancers fanned out to stand guard. The Dwarf Prophet and his apprentices carefully searched the ruined hall, trying to find any useful information.

The commanders of the force all walked toward the giant circular pit in the middle of the hall. This pit ran through the entire temple, connecting upwards to the steeple, where one could see the clouds in the sky, like a skylight for the temple. Looking down, the pitch-black pit was bottomless, as if it connected to another world.

However, the long-eared elves could hear the sound of rushing water from below the pit. It was clear there was an underground river beneath the temple.

The Elven Prince, Herimion, raised his head, his gaze turning to Sakhirtana. “Lady Sakhirtana,” he asked, “this must be the Sacrificial Pit of the Azoretta people. There’s an underground river at the very bottom. Are you truly certain that the Black Blood Sovereign is within the Realm of All Spirits, and not hiding in the river below?”

The Dark Elf priestess’s brow furrowed slightly. A trace of confusion appeared on her stunningly beautiful face. After a moment’s thought, she spoke in a soft, charming voice, “The Realm of All Spirits that the Azoretta people built and managed has already exceeded my general understanding of world planes. How it affects the physical world, I cannot yet be certain. I only obtained the information that the Black Blood Sovereign is hiding in the Realm of All Spirits through the enslaved temple demons, from the fragments of their mental memories.”

s”However,” Sakhirtana’s tone shifted, “I can offer a possibility by drawing on my knowledge of the overlapping nature of the Underground Kingdom and the Abyssal plane. The Abyssal plane and the Underground Kingdom experience a phenomenon called planar tides. When the two worlds periodically collide, planar fissures are created. Abyssal demons can enter the Underground Kingdom through these fissures, and residents of the Underground Kingdom can accidentally fall into the Abyssal world.”

“In recent centuries, the planar tides in the Underground Kingdom have become more frequent, and the planar fissures last longer and are more stable. This has led to many Black Blood Demons entering the subterranean world, but we rarely see the powerful semi-elemental abyssal demons… In truth, though semi-elemental demons are powerful, their existence in the Underground Kingdom is time-limited. Even if the Underground City doesn’t send armies to exterminate them, after a certain time, their soul-will returns to the Abyss, while their bodies dissolve into void elements.”

“Black Blood Demons are different. They have flesh and blood, can reproduce, and have even formed massive colonies. They are actually more terrifying than semi-elemental demons, not only posing a serious threat to the Underground City but also encroaching upon the surface world.”

Unfamiliar with abyssal demons, the Silverhawk Princess asked with curiosity, “Are you saying the Abyssal plane is invading our world?”

Sakhirtana smiled and shook her head. “The Matriarchs of the Underground City generally believe the situation may be the opposite: that the great will of Taelon Ruier is eroding the Abyssal plane. A few Matriarchs believe the two planes are actively integrating with each other… Whatever the case, it’s not good news for us. Some Black Blood-kind demons are already active on the surface, but more Black Blood Demons have occupied several stable planar fissures. They are controlled by abyssal demon lords, are organized, and pose a far greater threat. My purpose in coming to the Asoerta Temple to extract the Black Blood Sovereign’s Law power is of great significance to both the Underground City and the Elven Empire…”

The Elven Prince interjected, cutting off the conversation between Sakhirtana and Corona and pulling the topic back to the Realm of All Spirits itself. “Lady Sakhirtana, do you believe that the domain power of the Realm of All Spirits seeping into the temple’s surroundings is also a planar tide phenomenon?”

The Dark Elf priestess was displeased, but her face still held a charming smile. Her words, however, were not so polite. “I don’t know.”

The atmosphere instantly grew awkward. Sikodisi’s long ears twitched, and she turned back toward the chasm in the hall. Looking down, she saw more than twenty elven warriors vaulting directly onto the edge of the great chasm from the temple’s outer wall. The two elves in the lead were Princess Fiad Viel of Aylanta and another she was very familiar with, Iluth Moonsong.

Iluth led her subordinates in a salute to the Great Elder of the Silverhawk Council and the Third Princess. “By the Silver Moon, Moonsong greets you, Lady Sikodisi, Lady Corona.”

“Praise the Moon Goddess, it is wonderful to see you all safe and sound.” Corona Moondew returned the salute before pulling her Tree Elf niece from Iluth’s side to ask her questions.

Sikodisi looked at Iluth’s slender eyebrows, and a ripple disturbed the calm lake of her heart. This Wild Elf General from Silverymoon City had acted on her own to track the human expeditionary team and had gotten entangled with their mysterious leader, bringing an unknown anomaly to the elven forces’ operation. It was impossible to say if it was for better or for worse. She could only give a faint nod and say no more.

“Aunt Fiad, why have you come up? Didn’t we send a message to the command camp telling you to evacuate this area?” the Elven Prince asked, striding over.

Though both belonged to the powerful and influential Viel Great House, the blood ties between Fiad and Herimion were distant. She was a confidant of the Elven Empress and held more of a say in matters, and her political stance was not entirely aligned with the Elven Prince’s.

Fiad’s expression was indifferent as she said, “Centaurs are not suited for combat inside the temple. They and the dwarves have already withdrawn from the Asoerta Mountains. However, General Moonsong of Silverhawk City has brought a piece of vital intelligence that we had to come in to report to all of you… Moonsong, you tell them.”

Iluth nodded, untied the three leather pouches from her body, and took out the Crystal Skulls from within. The old Dwarf Prophet, Fantwick Fire-eye, ran over, picked one up, and asked as he examined it, “What is this thing? It looks like an Azoretta skull. There are no signs of carving. Could it be a naturally formed Crystal Skull?”

“It is the skull of an Asoerta Four Seasons Wizard King,” Iluth interjected. “My subordinates and I were exploring the tunnels in the belly of the Asoerta Mountains and discovered a large tomb complex belonging to the Asoerta Shamans. After searching, we found that they were special sacrificial sites. The Dwarf Prophet in my squad, Eglok Graybeard, also found some ancient stone tablets. He translated the text on them, and my companions and I learned a vital piece of intelligence about the Black Blood Sovereign.”

“About fifteen hundred years ago, the Yasurta Empire experienced a catastrophe. An Asoerta Wizard King’s sacrificial ritual went wrong, causing the power of the Realm of All Spirits to run rampant, giving birth to an instinctive will—the very first Black Blood Sovereign.”

“The first Black Blood Sovereign? Is She different from the current one?” the old Dwarf Prophet pressed.

Iluth glanced first at the Sacrificial Pit in the center of the hall, then nodded. “Yes. The Black Blood Sovereign was originally the Source of Power for the Realm of All Spirits, an entity without self-awareness. The Asoerta Shamans used their own people in blood sacrifices for many years to expand the domain’s range and, in return, gain extraordinary power. This also allowed the unconscious Black Blood Sovereign to accumulate a great deal of soul power. Then, about fifteen hundred years ago, a team from another race disrupted the Asoerta Wizard King’s blood sacrifice…”

“Another race? Humans, you mean?” the Elven Prince cut in.

“Do not interrupt General Moonsong,” Fiad said, glancing at Herimion and raising a slender, graceful hand to gesture for Iluth to continue.

“In short, the Black Blood Sovereign’s instinctive will awoke. It extended a giant tentacle from the Realm of All Spirits and shattered the temple’s outer wall. It also pulled the domain of the Realm of All Spirits to overlap with the environment around the temple, harvesting the souls of the Azoretta people outside and turning them into undead. The inside of the temple was not affected by the Realm of All Spirits, however, its Law of Black Blood corrupted the people inside, robbing them of their sanity and transforming them into Black Blood-kind demons.”

“At that time, the most powerful of them, the Despair Wizard King, decisively sacrificed himself and entered the Realm of All Spirits in soul form. He wanted to use his own soul-will to replace the Black Blood Sovereign’s infant-like instinctive will, thereby seizing control of the Realm. But the Despair Wizard King failed, or at least he wasn’t entirely successful. He could only calm the rampaging Black Blood Sovereign. The other three Wizard Kings also sacrificed themselves one by one, their souls entering the Realm of All Spirits, intending to combine the power of the Four Seasons Wizard Kings to completely devour the Black Blood Sovereign’s self-awareness.”

“They clearly did not succeed. To be precise, the Asoerta Wizard Kings’ ritual is still ongoing. For thousands of years, the descendants of the Azoretta people have continued to perform self-sacrifices to enhance the soul power of the Four Seasons Wizard Kings, preventing their wills from being corrupted and assimilated by the Black Blood Sovereign.”

“The first of the Four Seasons, the Plague Wizard King, had foreseen this situation and prepared a second plan.”

“He passed on his concept of shaping a perfect body to the souls of the other three Wizard Kings and had it recorded on stone tablets, so that the descendants of the Empire could continue his plan. The Four Seasons Wizard Kings guided the Black Blood Sovereign’s demonic instincts to shape a perfect body, so that She could leave the narrow, dead Realm of All Spirits and enter the vast physical world. Once the Black Blood Sovereign severed Her close connection to the Realm of All Spirits, it would be impossible for Her to enter it again. The Azoretta descendants could then reclaim the Realm of All Spirits and rebuild the Yasurta Empire. Therefore, the descendants of Asoerta have been entering the temple regularly to feed the Black Blood Sovereign flesh and souls. Gradually, the Black Blood Sovereign began to actively hunt the creatures around the temple.”

“Perhaps in a few hundred years, She would be able to shape a perfect body and abandon the Realm of All Spirits.”

The Dwarf Prophet and the elven commanders were dumbfounded by what they heard. The grand plan of the Azoretta people was like an unimaginable legend. Seeing that they could not supplant the Black Blood Sovereign’s will, the Four Seasons Wizard Kings decided to lure Her into shaping a perfect body to trick Her out of the Realm of All Spirits. It was like a monster occupying a house; the owner couldn’t drive it out, so he used something else to coax it to leave. The house would surely be severely damaged, but it was still better than having no house at all. As for what the monster would do after it left, the impoverished owner couldn’t be concerned with that.

Fiad Viel continued, “According to the intelligence provided by General Moonsong, the Black Blood Sovereign’s true body is inside the Realm of All Spirits. We can’t kill Her at all. She extends a portion of Her power, pulling the domain of the Realm of All Spirits to seal the temple. Our warriors will just be worn down to death by Her.”

“The Crystal Skulls of the Four Seasons Wizard Kings are the key to opening the Realm of All Spirits and making the Black Blood Sovereign’s true body appear. If we focus our strength to kill Her, we can leave the temple.” Princess Fiad frowned and asked again, “We only have three Crystal Skulls here… what about the human expeditionary team in the temple? Has anyone been sent to contact them?”

Sikodisi nodded. “Bobo, the Halfling adventurer, has already gone to find the human expeditionary team. Their commander has indicated a willingness to cooperate, but so far, they have not shown themselves.”

“Those human warriors will cooperate,” Sakhirtana said with a smile.

“I have a question,” the giant Dwarf general said loudly. “What if the Black Blood Sovereign doesn’t come out of the Realm of All Spirits? It’s like when I used to catch field mice as a child. It hides in its burrow, and I can’t catch it, but I can dig up the burrow. I never expected a field mouse to voluntarily come out for me to catch. The Black Blood Sovereign’s perfect body isn’t complete yet. If we open the door for Her, why would She come out? Surely we can’t enter the Realm of All Spirits to catch Her; that would be suicide. Lady Sakhirtana, do you have any good ideas?”

The Dark Elf priestess of the Spider Lady certainly had a trump card against demon lords, but for that very reason, the Black Blood Sovereign would not be willing to leave the Realm of All Spirits that protects Her.

Sakhirtana was at a loss for words for a moment. After careful thought, she ventured, “The Black Blood Sovereign’s demonic instincts crave new Bloodline Laws and soul power. The creatures around the Asoerta Mountains, She has already tasted them all. We elves, dwarves, and humans are an irresistible bait for Her. Perhaps we can first lure out a part of the Black Blood Sovereign’s body, then retreat deeper into the temple, clear out Her demonic claws, and prompt Her to come out and hunt us herself.”

“That’s a terrible idea,” Zuknos Greyflame said, shaking his head, his voice a low rumble. “Our food and water are limited. The Black Blood Sovereign can just wait until our warriors are weakened before coming out to hunt. Besides, you don’t even know how big She is, or what extraordinary abilities She has.”

“This…”

Seeing that even the Dark Elf priestess had no good solution, everyone else grew worried.

Herimion couldn’t help but say, “Perhaps we have become bait for the human leader. The last Crystal Skull should be in the hands of the human expeditionary team. Their attitude is unclear, and their objective is unknown. I can never trust them. I suggest that, while the Black Blood Sovereign has not yet appeared, we lead our troops out of the temple first and then make a new plan.”

The Elven Prince’s suggestion had its personal motivations, but it was in the best interest of the elven forces’ safety. Although welcoming the Sun Elves was Princess Fiad’s important mission, she couldn’t easily dismiss Herimion’s proposal. She couldn’t very well tell everyone that Her Majesty the Empress was willing to sacrifice the elven and dwarven troops in the temple to welcome back the new generation of the Empire’s Sun Elves.

As for the High Elves and high-level combat professionals, there was no need to worry about being trapped in the temple by the Realm of All Spirits. The priestess serving the Sun Tree was fully confident in protecting the important members present and getting them out of danger, but the same couldn’t be said for the mid- and low-rank combat professionals.

The beautiful and enchanting Dark Elf priestess, however, was grinding her teeth in frustration. The Elven Prince had already shown his intention to withdraw from the temple when he interrupted her conversation with Princess Corona. Now, Herimion was openly proposing to abandon the mission. If the mission failed, the others might be fine, but Sakhirtana’s fate would surely be tragic. The Matriarchs of the Underground City were all cold-blooded and ruthless leaders. They never showed mercy to failures, nor did they ever forgive.

The Dark Elf lady revealed a bewitching smile and said in a soft voice, “Then let us see if we can leave the temple.”

With a light wave of her jade hands, dozens of her Black Blood Demon slaves charged in a long line towards the chasm in the temple wall.

Herimion’s face changed drastically, and he shouted in anger, “You!”

…It was too late.

As the Black Blood Demons reached the edge of the chasm, an anomaly occurred. The area two to three hundred meters outside the temple took on a gray, pallid hue. The surrounding scenery also changed; the steep rocks vanished, replaced by grayish-white gravel. Even the sound of the wind rushing into the great hall changed, now laced with indiscernible whispers.

The domain of the Realm of All Spirits had overlapped with the physical environment!

The interior of the temple itself remained unchanged, with the strong, cold airflow still blowing in through the wind tunnel created by the chasm. However, a rustling sound came from the Sacrificial Pit in the center of the hall. Immediately after, a thick tentacle dozens of meters long snaked out from the circular pit.

It was pitch-black in color, its surface covered in sinister patterns. The elven and dwarven combat professionals felt a wave of dizziness just by looking at it.

The Black Blood Sovereign had appeared!

It was She who had pulled the domain power of the Realm of All Spirits to seal both the inside and outside of the temple!

At this moment, a slender, graceful figure leaped down from the tenth floor’s shattered hall, descending like a bolt of lightning. The massive, slimy, thick tentacle, shimmering with an evil light, was severed at its base without any warning. It fell to the floor, writhing madly, and finally tumbled out of the chasm to the ground outside the temple, leaving only a shocking trail of black blood in the hall.

The newcomer was a beautiful and delicate woman. She had a head of indigo hair from which grew forward-curving, pure white horns. In her hand, she held a long, jet-black spear, and her ice-blue, vertical pupils radiated a terrifying pressure that was almost tangible. Aside from a few, none of the Elven Empire’s combat professionals present could look her directly in the eye.

She lifted her elegantly-lined chin and spoke proudly, “I am Melphiawen, the Ripper, a Dragonkin handmaiden under My King, Randall. You will prove to me that you have the right to accept My King’s protection!”

In the mountain belly tunnels, on a cliffside platform cleared by the Silverhawk City dwarves.

Beldina squatted on the ground, widening her eyes to get a better look at the humanoid creature obscured by vines. “So this is a Dwarf. Big nose, big beard, so ugly. Much uglier than Bobo and Tiantian.”

“Papa, why hasn’t Father Dane woken this Dwarf up?” The young lady stood up and clung to Imoson the Wizard’s arm wheedlingly.

Nearby, Dane coughed several times, cleared his throat, and said, “I’ve used four types of divine arts and still haven’t woken this Dwarf… However, the sacred beacon His Highness ordered has taken effect. Don’t worry, he will definitely wake up.”

How could Charlotte not worry? Victor had been very clear: if Dane couldn’t revive the dwarf, the team had to evacuate the mountains as quickly as possible. She was concerned this matter would have a negative impact on Victor’s plans, so she frowned and said, “Your Excellency Dane, are you truly certain he will wake up?”

Dane explained with great confidence, “Yes, he will wake up. The sacred beacon allows me to cast divine arts remotely. It is exactly what it sounds like… a beacon.” Seeing Charlotte still frowning, her willow-like brows furrowed as she stared at him, Dane could only spread his hands and elaborate, “My Lady, do you remember when His Highness previously gave us a detailed account of the Black Blood Sovereign, the Lord of Sorrow, the Asoerta Wizard Kings, and the Realm of All Spirits? Do you think it was necessary for His Highness to explain it all so clearly to us in that urgent situation?”

Charlotte’s eyes lit up, her brow unfurrowed, and she smiled. “So Victor was speaking for that person to hear… all right, let’s go. We’ll carry out the next task His Highness assigned.”

“Let’s get out of here quickly. Aka senses something bad is about to happen,” Caligula said, nodding repeatedly while glancing fearfully in the direction of the temple.

The Dragonkin handmaiden Dili, however, was all smiles. “You all go on. I’m going to the top of the temple. The King is summoning me. He needs my assistance.”

Laila shot a jealous glance at Dili, pouted her red lips, and grumbled under her breath, “My King should have summoned me. I’m much stronger than the other Dragonkin handmaidens.”

Chapter 815: The Angel’s Descent

With a swift slash of her curved sword, a humanoid demon, its body entirely black and red with bulging muscles, was instantly decapitated. Filthy blood spurted half a meter high from the severed neck stump. A trace of disgust flashed in Sikodisi’s dark, lustrous eyes. She stomped her war boot on the demon’s back, sending its nearly three-meter-tall body toppling forward. The Moon Elf Wind Whisperer used the momentum to glide away, carried by a gentle breeze. She gracefully covered more than ten meters in an instant, slaying two charging Canine Demons in a single fluid motion.

Three Black Blood Demons fell to Sikodisi’s sword in quick succession, but they failed to delay her for even a moment. The dozen or so demons that had been besieging a combat squad of Dwarves and Elves immediately scattered, robbing her of the chance to annihilate them in one fell swoop.

“Thank you for your assistance, My Lord.” The squad’s captain, holding two curved swords dripping with viscous black blood, bowed to thank the Chief Elder of Silverhawk City. He was a Wild Elf War Dancer in the prime of his life, and the stained gold armor he wore indicated he belonged to Aylanta’s Forest’s Children unit. He was a fourth-rank War Dancer.

The Children of the Forest were the pride of Aylanta; only the most elite combat professionals could join their ranks. This War Dancer’s strength and willpower were both outstanding, yet his breathing was now erratic, his hands trembled slightly, and a bleeding wound on his left leg had been left untreated for far too long.

To still be standing after more than four hours of continuous, high-intensity battle was proof enough that he had not tarnished the honor of the Children of the Forest.

“Take your teammates and retreat to the entrance of the tunnel on the left side of the great hall. We will re-establish a defensive line there,” Sikodisi ordered quickly before turning to charge toward another squad of combat professionals clad in silver armor. They were the Eye of the Mysteries from Silverhawk City, and under the onslaught of the Black Blood Demons, their situation was becoming precarious, risking annihilation at any moment.

As a legendary powerhouse among the elven forces, Sikodisi Windsong should have been conserving her strength to deal with the Black Blood Sovereign. But now she had no choice but to intervene personally to rescue the embattled combat professionals.

After helping three warriors from the Eye of the Mysteries retreat, Sikodisi took a moment to check on the humans. She happened to see a human warrior plunge his halberd into a demon’s chest. The powerful Black Blood Demon flew into a frenzy, howling as it kicked its opponent more than ten meters away.

The force of the Black Blood Demon’s dying counterattack was immense, and its thick leg made a dull thud as it struck the human warrior’s composite breastplate. The man was sent flying, his back slamming into a massive stone block, causing the four-meter-wide boulder to shudder. Yet he immediately scrambled to his feet, shook his head, and ran back to the defensive perimeter set up by the human expeditionary team as if nothing had happened.

The human warriors were few, only sixty-four in number. Their ordinary warriors were tall and strong, their strength a match for a third-level Dwarf Ridgeguard, and their agility comparable to a third-rank Elven Sword Dancer. All in all, their combat effectiveness rivaled that of most fourth-rank combat professionals. Moreover, their physiques and bones were exceptionally tough, allowing them to shrug off heavy blows from the demons. But what was most noteworthy was their abundant stamina.

Facing a multitude of temple demons, after more than four hours of continuous, fierce fighting, even the mid-rank combat professionals of the elven forces were starting to falter. The human warriors, however, remained calm and unhurried, showing no signs of physical decline. It seemed as though they could fight for another four hours, or even longer.

Of course, this was partly due to the peculiar situation on the battlefield.

The elven forces outnumbered the human expeditionary team by more than five to one, while countless Black Blood Demons swarmed from all corners of the temple. Their roars rose and fell incessantly as they poured into the ruined great hall to engage in brutal combat with the elven forces and the human expeditionary team.

Strangely, seven out of every ten Black Blood Demons were attacking the Elves and Dwarves. The remaining three were either busy devouring the flesh of the fallen before leaping into the Sacrificial Pit, or were frenziedly charging the human front line.

The Elven Empire’s elite forces were steadily consolidating their numbers, while the humans had established a defensive perimeter with their backs to a corner of the great hall. The human commanders would often lead a portion of their warriors on sorties, killing some Black Blood Demons before retreating to their defensive circle to rest and rotate. Any demons that tried to pursue them were ruthlessly cut down, as two horned female Dragonkin patrolled the perimeter, slaughtering any demon that drew near with their absurdly large axes.

Despite three Priestesses of the Moon Goddess taking turns casting spells, four hours of continuous battle had resulted in casualties approaching ten percent of the elven forces’ total number. Lady Sakhirtana’s demon cannon fodder had also been reduced by a third. The humans had sustained injuries, but had yet to suffer any combat losses.

The commanders of the elven forces also noticed that the human expeditionary team used a type of silver potion on their weapons, which inflicted severe damage on the Black Blood Demons. Iluth Moonsong and her elven subordinates also had this potion—the silverlight potion, a gift from the human leader. Unfortunately, the amount of silverlight potion Iluth had on hand was limited and could not be supplied to the other combat professionals in the elven forces.

With their abundant stamina and the silverlight potion alone, the human warriors were a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. Without hesitation, Sikodisi Windsong unleashed a dozen sharp Wind Blades, killing a group of Canine Demons engaging the humans. She walked over to the dual-wielding human commander and said faintly, “Warriors of humanity, we are about to re-establish a defensive line near the tunnel and use nature magic to cordon off the battlefield. Do you wish to join us?”

She had already discerned that the two powerful female Dragonkin were not the commanders of the human expeditionary team; this dual-wielding warrior was the one giving orders. Though his features were a bit ugly, his fighting style was exceptionally fierce and valiant. His strength was only a notch below General Iluth’s, but he would still rank in the top ten among the elven forces.

The dual-wielding warrior was clearly taken aback. He waved for his adjutant to come over and translate Sikodisi’s words.

The human adjutant first conferred with the dual-wielding warrior, then asked in halting Elvish, “Beautiful and noble lady of the Moon Elves, how can you guarantee that the Elves and Dwarves will be able to trust us?”

This human adjutant had blond hair and blue eyes. His manners were elegant, and his posture and features were more handsome than most Tree Elves. Moon Elves were accustomed to judging people by their appearance, and Sikodisi’s expression softened. “Your Master has expressed goodwill to the Third General of Silverhawk City. I am Sikodisi Windsong, Chief Elder of the Silverhawk City Council. I can swear an oath to the Moon Goddess and guarantee that the elven forces will not actively harm you during our time in the Asoerta Mountains.”

Normally, Narsen would never turn his back on strangers, especially since the elven forces were far stronger than his expeditionary team. They had at least four Legendary powerhouses in the open and about ten Gold-level powerhouses. The Randell Expeditionary Force only had Narsen himself, a Gold-rank Ferocious Warrior. The two Dragonkin handmaidens, Mewen and Fugerui, were only equivalent to peak Gold Knights in their un-transformed state. Even in their Dragon-form, they might not be able to suppress that three-meter-tall, oversized Dwarf.

However, Narsen nodded and agreed without a second thought. Brandon translated his words for the beautiful Moon Elf lady, “My Lord Sikodisi, there is no need for an oath. We are willing to fight alongside the Elves and Dwarves.”

The proud Moon Elf Wind Whisperer couldn’t help but give the human commander a couple more looks, surprised he had agreed to cooperate so easily.

Confident and Unafraid.

However, considering the near-demigod power of the humans’ true leader, Sikodisi felt the dual-wielding warrior’s current behavior was entirely normal. She nodded and said, “Very well. Then I ask the human warriors present to first help us repel this wave of demons.”

With the powerhouses of the elven forces and the Randell Expeditionary Force joining forces, the Black Blood Demons were instantly overwhelmed. They left behind a hundred corpses and fled into the depths of the temple.

They would be back soon, in greater numbers and with more ferocious attacks.

The rescued combat professional squads quickly retreated to the vicinity of the tunnel. The seriously injured warriors received treatment from the Priestesses of the Moon Goddess, while the lightly injured tended to their own wounds. The rest seized the opportunity to practice their breathing methods, striving to recover their strength and vigor. The Dark Elf priestess, meanwhile, controlled her servants to move the demon corpses in the hall to the side near the tunnel.

Narsen took the initiative to have the expeditionary force guard the perimeter. This action won the goodwill of the elven forces, but due to the language barrier, there was no further communication between the two sides.

It was only after a Shaman of the Moon Goddess performed a nature spell, causing blood-sucking vines covered in thorns to grow from the demon corpses and seal off half of the great hall, that the commanders of both sides began to hold a dialogue.

Bobo the Halfling was responsible for translating. With him mediating, the atmosphere of the talks was generally amicable.

In truth, both sides now faced the same predicament. The Asoerta Temple was the size of a small city, and both the elven forces and the Randell Expeditionary Force had only explored a small portion of it. Neither knew just how many strange and bizarre Black Blood Demons were lurking in the temple’s depths. Based on the recent battle, the elven commanders conservatively estimated that the number of Black Blood Demons was more than ten times that of the combined Elven and human forces—at least four thousand of them.

The individual strength of the temple demons was not much different from that of the allied elite warriors. Fortunately, they were mentally chaotic and lacked effective tactical command. The allies could clean them up, but it would come at a price.

The key problem was that the elven commander, Lady Fiad Viel, had already placed all four Crystal Skulls in their designated positions in the ruined hall. This would allow the Black Blood Sovereign to wield even greater power. However, She remained holed up in the Sacrificial Pit, refusing to show Herself, clearly determined to use Her demon henchmen to wear down the allied forces.

This was precisely the advantage of the temple’s Black Blood Demons. They were not normal creatures and possessed endurance beyond that of ordinary beings. They could survive for dozens of days without food or water and could replenish their energy by cannibalizing each other. In contrast, the allied forces had, at most, a twelve-day supply of drinking water.

Fortunately, the wind blew rain and snow in through the temple’s Great Chasm. The allied forces had to both collect ice and snow near the Great Chasm and prevent their troops from being split up by the numerous Black Blood Demons to avoid being defeated in detail. Therefore, the allies could only concentrate their forces and establish a defensive perimeter near a tunnel in the ruined hall, adopting a defensive strategy.

The priestess Fiad Viel stated that while their blessings were ineffective on the human warriors, certain nature spells could use the flesh of demons to grow vines and produce edible fruit. This fruit could supplement the allied forces’ food and water supplies. She was willing to provide food and water to the humans, but she also hoped the human warriors would do their utmost to help the elven forces resist the attacks of the temple’s Black Blood Demons. Once the Black Blood Sovereign’s henchmen were all cleared out, She would have to show Herself.

Narsen agreed to the Moon Elf priestess’s plan for cooperation. He took out silverlight potions and distributed them to the elven greatbowmen, allowing their arrows to inflict severe damage on the demons. He also stated that the Randell Expeditionary Force could be responsible for the second line of defense, while the first line would be Sakhirtana Moonglimmer’s demon servants.

Fiad Viel, known for her arrogance and harshness, was unusually polite and kind toward the human expeditionary team, even to the astonishment of her companions. She politely declined the offer for the human warriors to act as the second line of defense and decided to have the Dwarf heavy guards and human warriors rotate in three squads, taking turns to rest. This was equivalent to the elven forces standing guard for a full day for every half-day the Randell Expeditionary Force stood guard.

Commander Fiad Viel’s strategy of waiting at ease for an exhausted enemy was sound, but the Black Blood Sovereign’s cunning exceeded everyone’s imagination.

She drove Her demon henchmen to launch four successive waves of attacks, yet the combined Elven and human forces managed to keep their casualties to a minimum. Not only that, but the Dark Elf priestess took the opportunity to enslave dozens more Black Blood Demons, and half of the ruined hall was nearly transformed into a forest of vines.

The blood-sucking vines personally planted by the Priestess of the Moon Goddess were far more formidable than General Iluth’s moonlight vines. They greedily devoured the flesh of the demons, possessed a higher degree of Animation, and would actively entangle any approaching demons, yet they did not attack the Elves, Dwarves, or humans. The allied warriors only needed to lure the demons near the blood-sucking vines, and those demons were almost certain to meet their fate as flower fertilizer.

After four attacks failed to achieve any significant results, the Black Blood Sovereign stopped driving its minions to their deaths. Its long life had endowed it with a concept of time different from that of Elves and humans, manifesting as an unnerving patience.

Its demon minions hid in the depths of the temple, and the Black Blood Sovereign’s great tentacles remained in the Sacrificial Pit, but the domain of the Realm of All Spirits still sealed off the temple from the outside world, preventing the mid-rank warriors of the elven forces from escaping the temple cage.

The Black Blood Sovereign could perhaps take a nap, and the combined Elven and human forces might just collapse on their own. If they didn’t, She would simply take a few more naps.

Without flesh and blood to absorb for nourishment, the blood-sucking vines grown by the Priestess of the Moon Goddess gradually became listless, their leaves and stems beginning to wither.

On the third day, the old Dwarf Prophet, Fantwick Fire-eye, announced the failure of his Divination. Not only had he failed to find a way to make the Black Blood Sovereign appear, but he had also suffered a backlash from the failed ritual, and his spirit was severely damaged.

The old Dwarf looked dejected and shouted angrily, “Why won’t the Black Blood Sovereign crawl out of the Realm of All Spirits?”

After listening to Brandon’s translation, Narsen remained silent for a moment before saying, “We believe that the Black Blood Sovereign has its demon henchmen inside the temple, and an even greater number of Black Blood Undead Creature henchmen outside. When the weather warms next month and the ice and snow melt, the Black Blood Undead Creatures of the Asoerta Mountains will be able to emerge from the soil. They might enter the temple to attack us. Before that, the Black Blood Sovereign will probably not come out for a decisive battle with us.”

The Asoerta Mountains were the Black Blood Sovereign’s domain. She had a thousand years to accumulate Her power and would not be so easily defeated.

After hearing this, Fiad Viel was silent for a long time before sighing softly, “Then we must prepare for the worst.”

In the Realm of All Spirits, the Dwarf Coelho felt like he was on the verge of death. He was trapped in place by moonlight vines, like a large radish, with a pillar of platinum-gold light rising from his head. He didn’t understand why he had suddenly started glowing, but he believed it was the Great Moon Goddess guiding his soul home, and that he was about to kick the bucket.

Since there was nothing else to do, Coelho stared upward, trying to see where this pillar of light led. A Dwarf in soul form wouldn’t feel his eyes getting sore, so he looked very carefully and earnestly. After an unknown amount of time, he suddenly noticed a change in the pillar of light above him.

The platinum-gold light outlined the form of a humanoid creature. It was composed entirely of soft, holy light. The armor it wore was exquisitely intricate and had a certain texture, and three pairs of wings of light unfurled from its back. The light converged in its large hands, forming a giant sword of light.

Had a human soul been here, he would have recognized this being, with its greatsword of Holy Light and three pairs of wings, as one hundred percent Micklemers, the first of the Radiant Archangels serving the Lord of Radiance.

Unfortunately, Dwarves did not know of Radiant Angels. Coelho shouted in alarm, “Hey, hey, feathered man, winged man… look down, I’m down here, see me? I’m saying, you have to see me first before you can take me home.”

“Dwarf, flee for your life,” the Radiant Archangel said, pressing a hand downward and immediately sending Coelho’s soul out of the Realm of All Spirits.

He surveyed the pale, deathly still, gray world, his gaze finally turning to the magnificent, four-sided sloped spire across the bridge. He murmured to himself, “An interesting experience… in this tiny soul plane, I can actually exert my greatest power. I shall use Her to test the full strength of a Radiant Archangel.”

The next second, the six-winged Radiant Archangel appeared in the sky above the magnificent structure. He stabbed his greatsword downward, and an endless torrent of holy radiance rained down like a waterfall. In the Realm of All Spirits, the Asoerta Temple continuously collapsed under the impact of the waterfall of Holy Light.

Chapter 816: The Masked Black Blood Sovereign

The ruins of the temple, the shattered great hall.

“My lord, something’s changing outside,” a sharp-eyed elven warrior suddenly cried out.

Iluth’s heart skipped a beat. She deftly leaped out of the defensive perimeter and vaulted to the edge of the chasm in the great hall. She saw the strange, hazy-gray scene outside the temple rapidly expanding. The Realm of All Spirits, which had originally covered a radius of just over two hundred meters, was now visibly growing to over six hundred meters, and the phenomenon of the overlapping planes was still continuing. It was like an underground spring gushing to the surface, gradually forming a pond.

A gray desert covered the white snow of the Asoerta Mountains, appearing both real and illusory. But Iluth Moonsong could still see through the difference between reality and the Realm of All Spirits. She understood that if someone could only see the bleak desert landscape, the moment they stepped out of the temple, their soul would be ensnared in the Realm of All Spirits.

Several other commanders of the allied forces came over to observe the changes outside the temple. The Shaman of the Moon Goddess, Fiad Viel, held her Sun Staff and said in a clear voice, “The Black Blood Sovereign is connected to the Realm of All Spirits. She is pulling the Realm of All Spirits upward, causing the planes to intersect and overlap… She is coming out.”

“Why would She come out?” Herimion asked, puzzled.

Fiad turned to look at the few human commanders. Their expressions were calm, and a hint of pride was visible in their eyes. In fact, the high-ranking members of the elven forces had already guessed that the Black Blood Sovereign’s strange behavior was related to the mysterious human leader. Fiad felt a slight thrill, thinking to herself: As expected of the Son of the Sun. Even the powerful Dragonkin consider themselves his servants. Only he could drive the Black Blood Sovereign out of the Realm of All Spirits.

“Something’s coming up from the Sacrificial Pit,” the giant Dwarf, Zuknos Greyflame, shouted as a warning.

“Not good! Run into the corridor, get away from the shattered hall!” Narsen’s face changed as he yelled after him.

A dull rumbling sound came from the Sacrificial Pit, growing from distant to near, from faint to heavy. The great hall on the seventh floor of the temple began to tremble. The vibrations in the floor and walls intensified, and suddenly, a massive, thick, slimy tentacle covered in profane patterns squeezed out of the pit.

The Sacrificial Pit had a diameter of twenty-six meters. The Black Blood tentacle that the Dragonkin handmaiden Mewen had previously severed with her “Soul Rend” spear was less than three meters in diameter. Now, the Black Blood Sovereign’s tentacle filled the Sacrificial Pit to the brim. The stone at the pit’s edge cracked in countless places, and the sense of terrifying power was suffocating.

The stone at the edge of the Sacrificial Pit finally gave way under the brutal pressure of the Black Blood tentacle and shattered completely. The tangled mass of tentacles shot up to the tenth floor of the shattered hall, splitting into four great tendrils, the thickest parts of which exceeded eight meters in diameter. They danced in midair before crashing down in four directions.

The forest of thorns planted by the Dark Elf priestess was instantly pulverized. The defensive circle built by the allied forces collapsed in its wake. Fortunately, the allied warriors had evacuated through the corridor ahead of time, and only a dozen demon slaves were smashed into meat paste by the Black Blood tendrils.

“Damn it, this place is going to collapse! Let’s jump onto the walls and exit through the corridors on the upper floors! We need to regroup with the main force as soon as possible!” the Elven Prince shouted, urging the commanders to leave the collapsing hall.

The Dragonkin handmaiden Mewen remained unmoved. She drew the “Soul Rend” hanging from her waist, preparing to repeat her previous feat and sever the Black Blood Sovereign’s tentacles.

“Lady Mewen, please wait. Let the Black Blood Sovereign crawl all the way out. That’s the only way we can properly kill Her,” Sakhirtana said, stopping Mewen. She quickly added, “If you scare Her into not coming out again, I’m afraid your King will be displeased.”

After hearing her words, Mewen did indeed put away her “Soul Rend” spear. She joined the other commanders, leaping onto the ten-meter-high ruined wall and ducking into a corridor entrance that had not yet collapsed, swiftly moving away from the shattered hall.

Not long after, the allied forces successfully regrouped in a chamber on the edge of the temple. But the demon claws of the temple had been driven into a frenzy by the appearance of the Black Blood Sovereign. Terrifying howls echoed through every corner of the temple, as if welcoming their sovereign, or perhaps communicating with each other, exchanging information on the enemy’s location.

It was obvious the demons were preparing to capture the rats in the temple and offer them to the Black Blood Sovereign. In their eyes, the elven and human allied forces were those rats.

A day later, the tremors in the temple finally subsided. The demons’ cries became sparse and weak. The corner where the allied forces held their ground was now covered in thick, blood-sucking vines. Gorged on the flesh and blood of demons, they had grown lush and verdant, but they had also been stained a shocking, pitch-black by the Black blood.

The Third Princess of Silverhawk City raised her Moonlight Staff, chanting an enchanting spell. A bright moonlight flowed from the staff like rippling waves, washing away the fatigue from the warriors’ bodies and minds, and causing the dark, sinister vines to wither and fall away.

Once the area was clean and the elven forces’ morale was restored, the priestess from Aylanta, Fiad Viel, bowed to Narsen and the others. “Aylanta and Silverhawk City will remember the sacrifices made by the human warriors. You should rest here. Please leave the coming battle to us.”

During that day of indiscriminate, frenzied attacks by the temple’s demons, the Randell Expeditionary Force’s Sourceblood Warriors had suffered heavy casualties, with only a dozen or so remaining. The Alchemical humans, with their simple minds and fearlessness of death, were accustomed to trading their lives for their enemy’s, and they had eliminated a large number of demons. In the eyes of the elves and Dwarves, their performance was valorous beyond measure.

That the divine arts of the Priestess of the Moon Goddess were ineffective on humans was another factor that contributed to the expeditionary force’s severe casualties.

Therefore, the proud Priestess of the Moon Goddess felt somewhat guilty towards her human allies. Fortunately, the expeditionary team’s five commanders and the two Dragonkin ladies were all unharmed.

The Black Blood Sovereign’s main body had already entered the real world. This most troublesome problem had likely been resolved covertly by the Son of the Sun. Fiad Viel was confident in completing the next step of the plan and felt no need to borrow the remaining strength of the human expeditionary team. Besides, these human commanders and the Dragonkin handmaidens were surely the Son of the Sun’s most capable aides. She was now more worried that any one of them might fall in the battle for the temple, which would infuriate the future Emperor of the Elven Empire.

Narsen, however, was feeling something entirely different. During their time in the temple, he had noticed that the family’s Sourceblood Warriors were not normal people. The Black Blood Demons were completely uninterested in their flesh, and their corpses would rot and decompose within a few days, leaving not a single trace behind.

It was a tacit understanding among everyone that a Wizard under their Master’s command had cultivated these powerful and loyal warriors using Wizardry. But regardless, the elite troops Narsen led had been almost completely wiped out, which left him both heartbroken and deeply ashamed.

Two plumes of hot white mist shot from Narsen’s nostrils. His eyes, visible through his faceplate, burned with fury. He said stiffly, “The battle isn’t over!”

The Elven Prince didn’t need the Halfling to translate to understand Narsen’s will to fight. He snorted coldly and said, “From now on, weapons alone won’t be enough for this fight.”

The human warriors’ fighting styles did not extend beyond the realm of physical damage. Only the blue-haired Dragonkin female possessed an extraordinary weapon that could cut through anything, which might be of some use against the Black Blood Sovereign. Judging solely from the combat abilities the Dragonkin handmaidens had displayed, Herimion was confident that neither was a match for him.

In truth, Herimion felt a little resentful toward the unseen human leader, constantly comparing himself to him. As a result, he found the human commanders and Dragonkin handmaidens rather displeasing to the eye.

Just then, the purple-haired, purple-eyed Dark Elf female swayed over, her smile gentle and incredibly infectious. “General Narsen, I come from the Underground City and have dealt with demons from the Abyss often, so I am quite familiar with their abilities. A lord-class demon like the Black Blood Sovereign can continuously corrupt lower-ranked creatures with its willpower. We have all witnessed the strength and will of the human warriors, but clashing with a demon lord could lead to being corrupted and transformed. The key issue is that the elven and Dwarven warriors have blessing charms to help them resist mental corruption, but unfortunately, the blessing of the Moonlight Tree is ineffective on humans… Of course, you and the two Dragonkin ladies will certainly be fine, but I wonder if your Master is willing to sacrifice the rest of his ordinary warriors?”

After listening to Bobo’s translation, Narsen hesitated, his gaze lingering on Sakhirtana for a few extra moments. Her hair and eye color, as well as her charming disposition, were strikingly similar to Lady Sophia, the nominal matriarch of the Randall family. This made the few who had met Sophia somewhat curious about the Dark Elf.

“Brave warriors, I have a question to ask. You seem… to know Dark Elves like me?” Sakhirtana asked with a smile.

“Oh, no, we don’t. It’s just that Lady Sakhirtana is somewhat different from the other noble elven ladies,” the senior knight Klaus answered first, adding in a half-warning, half-concealing tone, “Also, your extraordinary method of turning demons into spiders left a deep impression on us.”

Beside the Dark Elf was an oversized spider. It was as tall as an average Dwarf, its body covered in a black, metallic-sheened carapace. It moved on six jointed legs, each segment resembling a sharp scimitar capable of easily piercing a demon’s body. In addition, its mandibles were another lethal weapon, secreting a venom that reduced a demon’s flesh to a murky liquid, leaving the victim as nothing but skin and bones.

There were over a hundred such black spiders, distributed in every corner of the chamber, including the ceiling. They were all transformed from Sakhirtana’s demon slaves. Their combat power was formidable, but the process of their transformation was utterly horrifying.

Although the black spiders controlled by the Dark Elf had killed the most demons, Narsen and the others still saw the beautiful and alluring Sakhirtana as a symbol of evil and cruelty.

She would first charm and then enslave intelligent beings, and if slightly displeased, she would turn her own servants into spiders?

Lady Sophia and the purple-eyed noblewomen would never do something so cruel and disgusting.

In fact, the elven and Dwarven combat professionals who had witnessed the bloody scene now looked at the Dark Elf with unnatural expressions.

“These little things are called Six-limbed Demon-hunting Spiders. Their life cycle is very short; they will die after a few hours, but they are great helpers for us against super-giant demons.” Sakhirtana gently flicked her hair and continued to explain, “The Demon-hunting Spider Transformation spell is only effective on the more primitive Black Blood Demons. If a Black Blood Demon develops the ability of procreation, I can no longer change them into Demon-hunting Spiders. The demons in this temple are all of the primitive Black Blood Demon type, their minds and wills controlled by the Black Blood Sovereign. Leveraging this characteristic, my Six-limbed Demon-hunting Spiders will let the Black Blood Sovereign taste a painful end.”

If the human kingdoms had a specialized field of study for demons, then the Dark Elf priestess was undoubtedly an authority on demonology. There was a reason for Sakhirtana suggesting the humans stay behind.

The Dragonkin handmaiden Mewen suddenly commanded Narsen, “You all stay here. Fugerui and I will deal with the Black Blood Sovereign.”

“Yes, we obey your will,” Narsen and the others said in unison, their voices full of respect.

The human commanders’ change in attitude sent a chill through priestess Fiad’s heart. She felt that the leader of the human forces was communicating his will through the Dragonkin handmaiden, but she did not know his methods or his location.

She was certain of one thing: nothing that happened here escaped the Perception of the “Son of the Sun.”

“Aside from the wounded, all combat professionals of the fourth rank and above will follow us. The rest will stay here.” Fiad’s gaze fell on the Elven Prince. She paused, then said, “Prince Herimion and the Third Princess of Silverhawk City, Corona Moondew, you will also stay.”

The Son of the Sun was one of a kind. The mysterious human leader was now closer to the life form of the Son of the Sun. “Freya’s Tear” was likely the key to his ascension and transformation, and he would never allow other Greater Elves to covet the sacred object of the Moon Goddess. Priestess Fiad’s arrangement was made to protect Herimion, but it also completely extinguished the Elven Prince’s hopes.

After speaking, she ignored the Elven Prince’s complicated expression and led the way toward the corridor leading to the center of the temple. The High Elves and the combat professionals of the fourth rank and above followed her, along with the Demon-hunting Spiders scuttling quickly across the walls.

Soon after, the giant Dwarf General Juknos pushed aside a pile of collapsed rubble, giving everyone a clear view of the now-unrecognizable shattered hall.

The scale of the Great Chasm in the temple had tripled. Originally, the seventh floor of the temple had been the bottom of the chasm; now, the very first floor was the bottom.

There were ruined walls and shattered, misshapen stones everywhere. The Sacrificial Pit was no longer visible; in its place was a gigantic tentacled monster.

It had no ears, nose, mouth, or eyes, resembling a grotesque, twisted mountain of flesh. It had four main tentacles a hundred meters long and dozens of smaller secondary tentacles of varying sizes. The profane patterns on its surface shone with a spiritual light. When two Wild Elf War Dancers saw the patterns on its body, the light in their green eyes gradually faded, and their expressions became dazed and lost.

Priestess Fiad uttered a syllable from an ancient Elvish spell, startling the two absent-minded Wild Elf warriors awake. She then furrowed her slender brows and said, “Everyone, hold the Moonlight Runes in your mouths… There are still many demon claws in the temple. Your mission is to stay up here and intercept them, and at the opportune moment, use your ranged weapons to distract the Black Blood Sovereign below.”

“The high-ranking Children of the Forest who have mastered Mirror Heart are to go down to the first floor and engage the Black Blood Sovereign in skirmishing combat. You don’t need to kill Her; prioritize protecting yourselves and drawing Her attention to buy more time for Lady Sakhirtana to cast her spell.”

Sakhirtana nodded and said, “Once enough Demon-hunting Spiders have buried themselves in the demon lord’s body, I can begin to draw Her power. If we can hold out for a while longer, we will win.”

“Begin the operation.”

The giant Dwarf General, wielding his Fury Warhammer, dropped straight down from the shattered high platform, signaling the start of the battle.

The moment he landed, he launched a swift charge at the Black Blood Sovereign. It was as if an invisible force of gravity pulled them together; he reached Her side almost instantly, leaving a trail of smoke as the dust and debris he kicked up had yet to fall.

The warhammer smashed heavily onto one of the Black Blood Sovereign’s shorter tentacles. Black blood splattered, and flesh flew everywhere. Zuknos Greyflame had pulverized that tentacle and a part of the body behind it.

The wound the giant Dwarf General inflicted on the Black Blood Sovereign was large enough to fit a Giant Rhinoceros Beast, but compared to the Sovereign’s mountain-like body, it was merely a light injury.

The demon lord had no mouth and could not howl. She raised all her tentacles and swept them around, drawing the rest of the combat professionals into the fray.

Millstone-sized chunks of rock flew everywhere, their power comparable to projectiles from a large catapult. With her overwhelming strength alone, the Black Blood Sovereign could have swept the field. But her opponents were all powerhouses of Gold rank and above who had ignited the fire of the mind. No matter how strong the Black Blood Sovereign was, she couldn’t hit them.

Sakhirtana’s Six-limbed Demon-hunting Spiders leaped onto the demon lord from all angles. Their sharp scimitar-like limbs slashed rapidly, and combined with the corrosive fluid injected from their mandibles, they burrowed into the Black Blood Sovereign’s body. Many Demon-hunting Spiders were smashed to pulp by the Sovereign’s tentacles, but some successfully dug into Her flesh.

Time ticked by, second by second. The stamina and vigor of the high-ranking combat professionals were declining. They clearly couldn’t outlast the demon lord’s seemingly endless power.

When more than thirty-six Demon-hunting Spiders had burrowed into the demon lord’s body, the Dark Elf priestess took out a ritual dagger. She first pierced her own palm, letting beads of crimson blood flow down the dagger’s fuller and into its spider-shaped hilt. She chanted a difficult-to-pronounce spell, and a massive phantom of a spider appeared above the demon lord.

Illusory threads descended from the air, connecting to the Demon-hunting Spiders inside the Black Blood Sovereign. The super-giant demon lord’s movements became slow and stiff, and was finally immobilized by the tangible-yet-insubstantial spider silk.

The ritual dagger Sakhirtana used was a sacred object passed down through generations in Greyfang City. The Grand Matrons of Greyfang City had used it to subdue many demon lords, with very few failures. The Demon-hunting Spiders lurking inside the demon lord’s body, connected to the spider phantom’s threads, restricted the target’s soul and body like a marionette, siphoning away its power of Law.

“Did it work?”

Fiad Viel asked. But she noticed that Sakhirtana’s expression was not relaxed. In fact, she had become incredibly pale, her eyes filled with a disbelieving confusion.

Pop, pop, pop. The parts of the Black Blood Sovereign’s body that had been hoisted up by the spider threads began to shatter one after another, spewing out clouds of black smoke. The spider phantom lost its connection to the Demon-hunting Spiders and began to dissipate, while the Black Blood Sovereign was free once more.

“How is this possible?!” the Dark Elf priestess cried out, losing her composure. “My Ritual of Deception can’t extract the Black Blood Sovereign’s power of Law? No, that’s not right. There’s another power of Law inside Its body…”

Fiad had no time to ponder the reason for the ritual’s failure. She used wind elements to warn everyone present, “Be careful of that black smoke! It’s a swarm of flying insects, but not a real swarm!”

The black clouds of smoke were composed of tiny flying insects. They flew silently, so small they were difficult for the naked eye to discern, existing in a state between illusion and reality.

These clouds of insects swirled around the battlefield, splitting into sharp arrows that chased after the elves and Dwarves.

On the high platform of the ruined wall, the combat professionals were attacked by the insects. They crushed the blessed Moonlight Tree leaves in their mouths, and a faint green glow appeared on their bodies. The insects crashed against it and fell, disappearing completely in mid-air without a trace. But the Black Blood Sovereign was continuously spitting out insect clouds, and the combat professionals’ divine arts couldn’t last for long.

Sikodisi of Silverhawk City summoned a fierce wind, dispersing a large cloud of insects that was trying to attack the Priestess of the Moon Goddess. Fiad decisively raised her Sun Staff, chanted a spell, and brilliant sunlight illuminated the battlefield, dispelling all the black smoke insect clouds.

The Black Blood Sovereign’s roar of pain and anger echoed in everyone’s minds. A few of the weaker fourth-rank combat professionals fell to the ground, unconscious.

When the dazzling sunlight gradually faded, the Black Blood Sovereign continued to spew out countless more insect clouds.

“Sakhirtana, you must have another way to collect the power of Law,” Priestess Fiad said quickly. “Whether you have a way or not, we must act now and finish Her quickly.”

Sakhirtana lightly bit her bloodless cherry lips and silently took a few steps back.

Fiad looked at the Moon Elf princess beside her. She was another Priestess of the Moon Goddess from Aylanta, holding a Moonlight Staff. This staff was crafted from a branch of the Moon Tree that grew alongside the Sun Tree and had been blessed in a ceremony personally conducted by the Elven Empress Regnant. It was a trump card the elven forces held for dealing with demon lords.

The Moon Elf princess nodded at Fiad, walked to the edge of the high platform, and aimed the Moonlight Staff at the Black Blood Sovereign below. A bright moonlight shone from the tip of the staff, shooting onto the demon lord’s massive body. Then, the Moonlight Staff transformed into a beam of light and instantly pierced into the Black Blood Sovereign’s body.

A hazy moonlight shone from within the demon’s body, giving rise to vines, branches, and new shoots. A giant tree burst through the Black Blood Sovereign’s twisted body. A tranquil aura rippled out with the moonlight, causing the lord-class demon to fall into a deep slumber.

“Praise the Moon Goddess,” the elves and Dwarves chanted in unison.

A rare, serene smile appeared on Fiad Viel’s face. She turned to the Dark Elf and said, “You can collect the demon’s power of Law now, but, She will die completely very soon…”

“She’s still alive! Everyone, be careful!” the giant Dwarf General on the bottom floor of the temple roared like thunder.

The profane patterns on the Black Blood Sovereign’s body turned a bright red. Sparks the size of an adult’s fist began to pop out, setting the giant tree alight, and engulfing the Black Blood Sovereign itself in blazing flames.

Rolling waves of heat forced the giant Dwarf General and the other high-ranking combat professionals to leave the bottom floor and leap onto the high platforms of the ruined walls to escape the flowing flames caused by the Black Blood Sovereign.

“Is She self-immolating?” The Moon Elf princess’s beautiful eyes widened in disbelief at the scene before her.

The giant tree created by the Moonlight Staff was burned to ash by the flames. The blazing light leaped from the Black Blood Sovereign’s body, coalescing into a dozen or so balls of fire on the ground, which then transformed into a dozen gaunt, skeletal firemen wearing feathered crowns.

They were over two meters tall and looked like humanoid creatures made of fire and lava, with even the outlines of clothes and jewelry visible.

“This is the image of an Asoertan Shaman… No! It’s the Fury Wizard King of the Second Season! The insect clouds before were the Plague Wizard King of the First Season… This is trouble,” Fiad Viel’s exquisitely beautiful face lost its usual cool composure as she muttered to herself.

The Black Blood Sovereign, now covered in a layer of ash, seemed undamaged. It had only shrunk by two sizes, appearing more lean and powerful. A gash opened on its side, and countless black insects poured out. These insects were several times larger than the previous ones. They swirled and flew, converging into humanoid monsters.

The Black Blood Sovereign had manifested the powers of the Plague Wizard King and the Fury Wizard King. Naturally, the magical abilities of the Despair Wizard King and the Wither Wizard King would follow.

General Iluth Moonsong, who was providing support from the shattered high platform, had keen intuition. She saw a small protrusion form in the middle of the demon lord’s body, as if it had grown a head. A simple, ancient-looking mask served as the Black Blood Sovereign’s face.

She was suddenly reminded of Eglok Graybeard’s divination prophecy: “…a nightingale snatched away the wooden plank…”

The Black Blood Sovereign is not just a demon lord; She’s also the ghostly host of the Four Seasons Wizard King of Asoerta. That mask is formed from the Crystal Skulls of the four Wizard Kings. Could it be its weak point? Iluth thought to herself. But she did not voice her thoughts to warn the lords, fearing she would attract the Black Blood Sovereign’s attention and ruin any action Mr. Nightingale might take.

Chapter 817: Battle of the Ancient Species

The Black Blood Sovereign’s body was simply too massive. Its four main tentacles were nearly one hundred meters long; if this battle had taken place in the human kingdoms, its sheer size alone could have crushed the castle of a viscounty. A tiny mask hanging on its body was difficult to notice, and due to the angle of view, no combat professional besides Iluth Moonsong had yet discovered the Asoerta-style mask.

Ever since the Black Blood Sovereign had put on the mask, the pressure on the Elven and Dwarven forces in the temple battle had doubled. It was as if the Black Blood Sovereign had grown smarter; its attacks were now more targeted and methodical, unlike its previous chaotic and disorderly rampages.

Its four main tentacles coiled around massive boulders and hurled them at the Elven archers on the shattered high platforms. It didn’t care if it hit the extraordinarily agile Wind Walk Archers; it only sought to destroy their footholds, forcing them to leap back and forth along the crumbling high walls to evade the bombardment. This significantly reduced their rate of fire. Meanwhile, the flying boulders smashed the entrances to the corridors on each floor, trapping the Dwarven guards inside the passages and separating them from their Elven allies. Without the cover of the Wind Walk Archers, they were forced to fight on their own against the remaining demonic minions inside the temple.

The high-tier combat professionals weren’t faring much better. The Black Blood Sovereign’s secondary tentacles focused on hurling stones at single targets. Even the smaller rocks weighed over a thousand pounds, and the force of the throw was lethal. The high-tier combat professionals it targeted were suffering terribly. Casters like Fiad Viel were prime targets for the Black Blood Sovereign. They had already been forced to move several times on the broken platforms, no longer able to maintain their cool and elegant demeanor. With brows furrowed in frustration, they were flustered and exasperated—the fiery temper of the Moon Elves was on the verge of erupting.

But every disadvantage has its advantage. With the Elven priestesses drawing the Black Blood Sovereign’s fire, the Gold-rank powerhouses fighting at the base were free to use their unique talents to attack the Black Blood Sovereign… and the Wizard King avatars it had summoned.

A Tier 5 Tree Elf Wind Dancer, wielding two light shortswords, manifested the void wind element as two flickering beams of indigo light. Combined with her exquisite swordsmanship, she engaged a monstrous figure made of black insects. She utilized the sharpness of the void wind element to its fullest extent; the insects fell in swarms but were unable to break through the turbulent airflow swirling around her.

However, the black insects were semi-corporeal, gathering and dispersing at will. Even a Gold-rank Wind Dancer couldn’t completely shred them. These black insects, which carried toxins and diseases, bypassed the Wind Dancer, transforming into black smoke that re-formed in mid-air to lunge at the next target. As more and more insects gathered, they formed a massive, five-meter-tall insectoid man, which now had more corporeal characteristics. Before it could unleash its destructive power, the giant Dwarf General, Zuknos Greyflame, leaped over a dozen meters and slammed down hard on the insectoid. The ground cracked beneath his feet, accompanied by illusions of lightning and magma. The insect monster that the Wind Dancer had been unable to destroy was instantly crushed by an invisible gravity. The buzzing of the insects turned into a wail that sounded eerily like a scream before they gradually faded into nothingness.

It was the Thunderous Slam of the Sons of the Hills, but its area of effect was three times larger than usual, and it even produced illusions of magma. Though not real magma, its power was nearly as great as true subterranean lava—a manifestation of the void element’s reality law. From a distance, the Wind Dancer could feel a wave of scorching heat wash over her.

The giant Dwarf General’s grey eyes were now laced with cracks, through which dark red magma seemed to boil and roil. He hefted the Fury Warhammer he had forged himself and said in a rumbling voice, “Have you all felt it? Your innate talents have grown several times stronger. The closer we get to the Black Blood Sovereign, the stronger the surge of power feels!”

The Tree Elf Wind Dancer’s clear laughter was like silver bells in the wind. “Yes, I feel my Bloodline’s power has reached an unprecedented height.”

She raised her hands, and her shortswords swung out two massive cyan Wind Blades. They flew over forty meters and carved two intersecting wounds on the Black Blood Sovereign’s body. Filthy black blood oozed from the ten-meter-long gashes but was quickly reabsorbed by the Sovereign’s smooth skin. The crisscrossing wounds began to heal automatically, shrinking to faint scratches two or three meters long in the blink of an eye.

While nimbly dodging the streams of fire spewed by a flame monster, the Wind Dancer said in frustration, “The Black Blood Sovereign’s body has gotten smaller, and our Bloodline powers have grown stronger, but Its Elemental Resistance, physical toughness, strength, and the attack speed of Its tentacles have all increased as well.”

“It’s the domain Law of Freya’s Tear that is enhancing our Bloodline power, but it’s also enhancing the demonic sovereign’s power of Law,” Fiad Viel called out from the broken high platform as a warning. “We must find a way to retrieve the goddess’s sacred object, or the Black Blood Sovereign’s extraordinary power will not wane!”

Her long hair streamed behind her, and her black eyes lit up with a silvery-white electric glow. The temporary enhancement to her Bloodline was affecting her personality; a temper as wild as a storm was causing her to lose the rationality expected of a commander.

To retrieve Freya’s Tear, they had to kill the Black Blood Sovereign first. If there were a way to get the Tear first and then kill the Sovereign, their situation wouldn’t be so dire.

General Zuknos didn’t argue with Fiad, the priestess. He shouted loudly, “These avatars of the Asoerta Wizard Kings are elemental aggregates and very difficult to kill. Can anyone find a way to hold them off for a while so we can attack the Black Blood Sovereign’s main body?”

Elemental life forms shouldn’t exist in this era. But the unique Law of Freya’s Tear, combined with the soul Law of the Realm of All Spirits, allowed the Black Blood Sovereign to manifest the elemental avatars of the Asoerta Wizard Kings. They each had their own spellcasting abilities, but their most troublesome trait was their elemental form, which had no weak points.

The Plague Wizard King’s insect monsters were semi-corporeal, could gather and disperse at will, and could fly. They spread mental illnesses and could devour flesh and blood. Several Tier 4 Wind Walk Archers were enveloped by the Plague Wizard King’s swarms, only surviving thanks to Fiad Viel’s blessing arts.

While the plague-insect monsters could be dealt with by the giant Dwarf General when they turned corporeal, the giant Dwarf had no good way to handle the Fury Wizard King’s fire element avatar.

The fire element monster looked like a skeleton wearing a feathered crown, its body composed of flames and lava. It could spew jets of high-temperature fire over thirty meters long and reform its body at the end of the flame streams. On the battlefield, the Fury Wizard King’s fire avatars left scorching trails of light, leaving the high-tier combatants completely frazzled.

Besides Zuknos Greyflame, whose Bloodline power was greatly enhanced, no one dared get too close to the Fury Wizard King’s fire element avatar. The giant Dwarf General was now nearly immune to fire damage, but the Laws of magma and lightning he commanded were equally powerless against the fire element monster.

To make matters worse, the Black Blood Sovereign began spewing out swarms of insects again, replenishing the Plague Wizard King avatars that the Son of the Hills had destroyed.

They had to eliminate the Black Blood Sovereign’s main body to completely destroy the elemental Wizard King avatars. But to get to the Black Blood Sovereign, they had to get past the avatars first.

Fiad Viel could barely contain the storm raging within her. She first used the Sun Tree staff to summon a gust of hot wind to incinerate a cloud of insects, then turned to the Dark Elf priestess and snapped, “Do you have any other ways to deal with this demonic sovereign?”

Of course, there were ways to deal with the Black Blood Sovereign. However, they would require the Elves and Dwarves to sacrifice themselves to the Spider Lady’s sacred dagger. Sakhirtana wisely shook her head. She had no doubt that if the second princess of Aylanta heard this suggestion, she would immediately use the Sun Tree staff to send her to meet the Moon Goddess’s avatar of death.

Fiad Viel shot the female Dark Elf a vicious glare and announced loudly, “Everyone, listen! The divine power in the Sun Tree staff is limited. I will cast Radiance of the Blazing Sun one more time to destroy all the Wizard King avatars. You must use that opening to focus your attacks on the Black Blood Sovereign’s main body!”

“Heh, is this all you can do?”

Mewen, the Dragonkin handmaiden who had been standing by and doing nothing, let out a disdainful chuckle and an arrogant question. She and the other handmaiden, Fugerui, leaped down from the high platform. Amid a chorus of gasps, they were snatched up by two of the hundred-meter-long main tentacles. The Black Blood Sovereign’s power was immense. For the two beautiful and arrogant dragonkin to be caught by It meant their beautiful lives would undoubtedly be cut short.

Just as the Elves and Dwarves couldn’t bear to watch the tragic fate of the Dragonkin handmaidens, a four-colored radiance of yellow, red, blue, and green intertwined and flowed. The two incredibly tough tentacles, covered in strange, sinister patterns, melted away like snow under the sun. To be more precise, it was assimilation. The void element assimilated part of the Black Blood Sovereign’s body. When the light faded, two flying dragons, seven or eight meters long, appeared in the sky above the battlefield.

They had wings on their backs, their bodies sleek and graceful, covered in translucent, crystalline scales. On their heads were a pair of forward-curving horns, and their blue and green vertical pupils radiated a majesty that looked down on all living things.

They were beautiful, elegant, and powerful Legendary creatures—dragons.

“Elf, save the power of the Sun Tree staff to attack the Black Blood Sovereign,” the deep-blue dragon spoke, her voice like rumbling thunder. She beat her wings, stirring up an unstoppable gale that swept the black insect clouds attacking the Elven archers into one place. She then used a dense barrage of wind element to repeatedly shred them, causing all the Plague Wizard King’s avatars to dissipate.

The green dragon, meanwhile, folded her wings and dove to the ground, landing in front of Zuknos. She opened her cavernous maw, lined with sharp teeth, and let out a deafening Roar, scaring the Hill Dwarf enough to make him leap aside. A wave of green dragon’s breath swept past him. The chilling cold froze the air, creating fine snowflakes with a dreamlike beauty. But this beauty represented an incredibly cruel power. The fire element monster that had been behind the Hill Dwarf only lasted a moment before the dragon’s breath froze it into an ice sculpture.

The green dragon turned, shattering the frozen fire element avatar with a swipe of her tail, then spread her wings and pounced on the other flame monsters.

Zuknos saw a hint of playful mockery in her emerald vertical pupils. He was no stranger to that look; Aylanta’s Emerald Dragon Clan was just as insidious, cunning, and ill-natured, often taking pleasure in teasing and frightening Elves and Dwarves.

Before their transformation, the Dragonkin handmaidens Mewen and Fugerui had seemed unremarkable. Aside from their Fearful Gaze, they were simply strong and fast, with no other extraordinary abilities, relying mainly on physical damage to defeat their foes. So much so that the Tier 6 Greater Elf Herimion had been confident he could test his mettle against them.

But when they transformed into their dragon forms, the might of a Legendary creature immediately swept across the entire battlefield, making the Elves and Dwarves tremble in their souls, barely able to control themselves. Fortunately, their Dragon’s Might was directed at the colossal Black Blood Sovereign. Once the combat professionals recovered, they were greatly encouraged.

Zuknos had only ever felt this level of Dragon’s Might from an elderly Emerald Dragon. He muttered to himself, “It really is a pure ancient dragon Bloodline… In that case, I’ll show you the true Sons of the Hills!”

He abruptly raised his head. The cracks in his eyes widened, revealing the surging magma within. His burly, powerful frame rapidly expanded, his prized beard turned to flames, and his heavy armor melted under the searing heat, molten iron flowing over his body. His skin began to crack in large chunks, exposing the dark red magma beneath.

In an instant, the giant Dwarf General transformed into a four-meter-tall lava giant of black and red. The Fury Warhammer in his hand was also covered in magma and ignited, turning into a fiery meteor that he smashed toward the demonic sovereign.

Seeing Zuknos unlock the potential of his Son of the Hills Bloodline, Fiad Viel also reacted. She held the Sun Tree staff horizontally, and circles of dark gold runic arrays formed beneath her war boots. Ancient Elven spells invoked a mysterious power, and the phantom of a sun appeared above her head. Immediately after, an endless, brilliant sunlight fell from the void, striking the Black Blood Sovereign like a bolt of thunderous flame.

It was the Tier 8 nature spell contained within the Sun Tree staff—Flame of Celestial Fire.

Unwilling to be outdone, Silverhawk City’s legendary powerhouse, Sikodisi Windsong, also unleashed her power. The Moon Goddess’s sacred object had enhanced her Bloodline as well, allowing her to touch upon the domain of the ancient High Elves. Her long hair flew wildly, her bright black eyes were covered by a layer of pristine silver light, and the void wind element condensed in her hands into an indigo spear, which she hurled repeatedly at the Black Blood Sovereign.

The dragons’ appearance was like a horn sounding the final battle. The combat professionals of the Elven Empire unleashed their talents beyond their usual limits. Dragon’s breath, celestial fire, lightning, hurricanes, magma—a relentless barrage of abilities hammered the Black Blood Sovereign’s massive body.

Even though the Black Blood Sovereign was as large as a small mountain, it now looked incredibly wretched. Its tentacles were severed, its flesh was flayed, black blood gushed out, and its body was battered and broken. Its total volume had shrunk by another tenth.

Just a tenth, and no more.

The high-tier combat professionals’ torrential storm of attacks had destroyed a tenth of the Black Blood Sovereign’s body—a mass a hundred times greater than their combined weight. But this colossal being defied everyone’s imagination. It was only flesh and blood, with no bones or internal organs, and thus no vital points. In fact, it was almost out of flesh and blood now.

Its massive body writhed and contracted once more. The black flesh regenerated unceasingly, shifting to a pale color. No black blood flowed from the parts sliced open by the combat professionals; instead, there was only a dense, gelatinous substance that could entangle and bond to restore its form. Its body was morphing, forming a chest, shoulders, and then a head. The small mask became its face, and two pale flames ignited in the mask’s eye sockets.

“All Spirits… All Hallows… are my essence. I am the manifestation of perfection and immortality… I hold authority over both soul and creation. I am the offspring of the King of the Spirit Realm. I am the Pale Sovereign.” The grand, deep voice echoed in everyone’s mind.

At this moment, the Black Blood Sovereign finally revealed its true nature. It was a demonic sovereign, an Undead Creature, and an aggregate of elemental life.

By the definition of the human kingdoms, this was an evil god that had broken into the physical world!

Now, no combat professional below the Gold rank could harm It. Even the full-power attacks of the Son of the Hills and the two dragons had limited effect. The evil god’s body was simply too large compared to them, and moreover, there was no logic to the regeneration of an elemental body.

The Black Blood Sovereign, now called the Pale Sovereign, threw out all sorts of spells: plague insect clouds, furious flames, winds of despair, withering frost. Mid-tier combat professionals were killed one after another. Four slender, flexible tentacles coiled around the victims’ corpses, pulling them into the Pale Sovereign’s body.

“Come, merge with me. Help me shape a perfect body. It is your honor.”

Princess Fiad Viel let out a furious scream. The Sun Tree staff in her hand burst forth with ten thousand rays of sunlight. The Tier 9 nature spell—Radiance of the Blazing Sun—immobilized the Pale Sovereign, completely suppressing It with the power of the sun.

If the Radiance of the Blazing Sun could be sustained, it might have been able to destroy this resurging Ancient God. But alas, the Sun Tree staff was not the Sun Tree itself. The power it contained had its limits, and this all-encompassing suppression could not last long.

The high-tier combat professionals seized the opportunity, unleashing their full power to attack the mask on the Pale Sovereign’s head. The Asoerta mask, which looked like it was made of wood, was actually indestructible. The light of the four elements flowed across its surface, absorbing and dissipating all attacks.

The brilliant sunlight gradually dimmed. Fiad Viel lowered the Sun Tree staff and sighed wearily, “We are actually fighting against the power a plane has accumulated for over ten thousand years… Prepare to retreat.”

Zuknos could barely maintain his semi-elemental Son of the Hills form. He slammed his magma hammer into the Pale Sovereign’s body and shouted in frustration, “Why can’t we kill It?”

At the same time, on the spire of the Asoerta Temple, Victor sat on a high-backed stone chair, a faint smile on his face as he murmured to himself, “Why can’t you kill It? Because… this is an Alchemy Tower.”

The stone chair was a uniform, bright yellow and had a smooth surface. It was a manifestation of the earth element, just like the creation altar in Alchemy Tower No. 7.

In a sense, alchemical creatures cannot be killed. Take the Dragonkin handmaidens for example. Their Soul Fire is eternal. Their Will Side, through the Dragon Pact, is entrusted to the Elemental Sea of Wind. As long as Victor is alive, even if their bodies are destroyed, they can be reborn through an Alchemy Tower.

The Pale Sovereign was obviously not an alchemical creature, but Its Soul Fire also possessed an immortal characteristic. An elemental tower must be built at a convergence point where the four elements are in balance, which was precisely the prerequisite for rebuilding a body with void elements.

A water source could be found near every Alchemy Tower, and the water source for the Asoerta Temple was the subterranean river beneath the Sacrificial Pit. This explained why the ancient Assyrians had to dig down to the river when building the temple.

It was likely that an Alchemist from the Secret Order commanded the ancient Assyrians to first dig down to the subterranean river before constructing the magnificent temple. To be precise, the elemental creation power of the Alchemy Tower helped them shape a mountain peak into the form of a temple.

This was also why the Pale Sovereign was unwilling to leave the Sacrificial Pit.

If It left the Sacrificial Pit, It would be leaving the place where the four elements balanced and converged. It would not be so simple for It to maintain Its elemental form and continue to regenerate.

Victor didn’t think he could kill the Pale Sovereign, who grasped a portion of the Law of Creation. He stroked Dili, who was resting her head on his knee, and said with a smile, “This battle is a reenactment of an ancient war. How could I not join in?”

“King, you just focus on the battle with all your heart. I will protect you!” the Dragonkin handmaiden Dili said resolutely.

“Then I’ll be counting on you. After this fight, I won’t be able to move for a while,” Victor chuckled. He stood up, turned around, and tapped the stone chair with a slender finger.

The chair, once sat upon by an Assyrian Wizard King, cracked into pieces that floated in the air, revealing two misty crystals. One of them immediately fell to the ground. Victor’s eyes lit up. He picked up the crystal, examined the runes within, and said joyfully, “Excellent. This is a memory crystal from an ancient alchemist. I’ll have Bel unlock it later. You hold onto it for me for now.”

After handing the memory crystal to Dili, Victor looked at the other Elemental Rune Crystal, which represented the Alchemy Tower. His gaze flickered indecisively. Fusing with this crystal would inevitably alert the Ant-man Empress, and her armies would swarm to this location. Though he would have Dili by his side while temporarily powerless, he wouldn’t be able to protect anyone else in the temple. Narsen and the others would have to find a way to escape the clutches of the Ant-man Empress.

At this point, there was no more time for hesitation. Victor summoned the Elemental Rune Crystal from Alchemy Tower No. 7 and let the two alchemy towers merge.

Ignoring the Elemental Rune Crystal’s self-repair process, Victor wiped the divine arts ring on his left middle finger. Platinum-gold runes materialized from the void. His black eyes and hair turned dark gold, and blue, yellow, and green halos lit up one by one around the outer edge of his irises.

Sacred Protection.

Soul Boil.

Apocalypse.

The mythical three-headed lizard, Poltanos, awakens.

Wings of the Wind Sprite.

Grasp of the Wind Djinn.

Chilling Wind.

The full power of the Raging Wind Sword Saint and the Mind’s Dominator appeared on the battlefield on the temple’s lowest level without reservation!

At this moment, in the distant human kingdoms, all the Gold Knights felt the agitation of the Elemental Sea of Wind. And below the Asoerta Temple, the elite combat professionals of the Elven Empire witnessed a power akin to a miracle!

A wisp of wind brushed past the ends of Moon Elf Fiad Viel’s hair. It was nimble, heavy, and bone-chillingly cold. It swirled in the air, gathering with other wind elements, and transformed into a gigantic, cyan-black hand, as if a storm giant had reached its hand into the temple from the Great Chasm.

It took up nearly a quarter of the space on the temple’s lowest level. Bolts of lightning flashed within the palm, and the indigo void wind element formed the giant’s fingernails, which clawed viciously at the Pale Sovereign’s head.

The Pale Sovereign, whose size was comparable to a massive fortress, reacted as if it had met an enemy of equal might. It roared and howled, madly whipping its tentacles at the storm giant’s hand. Amid sharp whistles accompanied by thunder and lightning, the ceaseless winds of the Asoerta Mountains provided the storm giant with an endless supply of power. The wind elements were replenished as soon as they were destroyed. The glowing indigo nails tore open the Pale Sovereign’s scalp, ripping the soul mask of the Four Seasons Wizard King, along with a large chunk of semi-elemental flesh, from Its face.

Immediately after, the storm hand straightened its fingers like a blade and pierced the Pale Sovereign’s chest, pulling out an oak seed that was hidden inside.

The Pale Sovereign let out half a terrified wail. It could no longer maintain its semi-humanoid, evil god form and collapsed back into its original tentacled monster state.

The storm giant’s hand dissipated, transforming into a whirlwind that enveloped the mask and the human-head-sized oak seed. It drifted up toward the temple’s top floor through the Sacrificial Pit’s shaft. Along the way, it blew Freya’s Tear toward Iluth Moonsong before disappearing into the shaft with only the Wizard King’s mask.

The surviving Elves and Dwarves all raised their heads to stare at the temple’s shaft, not even paying attention to the goddess’s sacred object that Iluth had caught.

Aylanta’s Shaman of the Moon Goddess, Fiad Viel, her eyes shining brightly, murmured in a near-reverent voice, “The Son of the Sun of the Elven Empire… is up there, in this temple.”

Chapter 818: The End of the Perfect Body

“

“

The moment Iluth Moonsong caught the acorn-shaped sacred object of the Moon Goddess, the two Dragonkin handmaidens, Mewen and Fugerui, immediately withdrew from the battlefield. They beat their wings and flew toward the central shaft, automatically deactivating their dragon forms in mid-air.

“

“

A four-colored radiance scattered along the elegant lines of the dragons’ bodies, leaving two dazzling, dreamlike rainbows in their wake. When the light completely vanished, Fiad Viel saw the two dragons transform into two half-human, half-dragon beings, each about three meters tall. They moved swiftly, clambering and leaping across the shattered walls, and soon disappeared into the central shaft.

“

“

Fiad truly wanted to follow the Dragonkin handmaidens up the shaft to pay her respects to the noble Sun Elf, but the battle was far from over.

“

“

With the Wizard King’s mask and “Freya’s Tear” forcefully torn away by the Sun Elf, the Pale Sovereign’s humanoid form was collapsing. Its head, shoulders, and chest caved inward. Its four slender, nimble tentacles, as if deflating, rapidly reverted to thick, clumsy tendrils, and its pale skin returned to its original inky black.

“

“

The Pale Sovereign was not dead; its body was even growing at a frantic pace. Perhaps it was more fitting to call it the Black Blood Sovereign now, for it wouldn’t be long before It reverted to its original form as a colossal tentacled monster.

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This transformation revealed some of the Pale Sovereign’s mysteries. Neither It nor the Black Blood Sovereign had skeletons to support their bodies; they relied entirely on their soul power to shape their durable, semi-elemental bodies into a humanoid head, shoulders, and chest. This indicated that the Pale Sovereign and the Black Blood Sovereign were two sides of the same coin, each representing a different level of life. It was as if the Pale Sovereign had been a master of the Mirror Heart; when Its soul was critically wounded, the Mirror Heart shattered, leaving It unable to control Its body and power, turning It into a feeble-minded creature.

“

“

With a single move, the Son of the Sun had knocked the insurmountably powerful Pale Sovereign from Its divine throne down into a mud pit. Fiad Viel felt nothing but awe and admiration for Mr. Nightingale, who had yet to show himself.

“

“

Iluth Moonsong had retrieved the sacred object of the Moon Goddess, and the Son of the Sun was at the top of the temple. Half of the mission assigned by the Elven Empress was complete. However, the Black Blood Sovereign was still thrashing about, and the Realm of All Spirits still sealed off the world outside the temple, meaning the elven forces’ crisis was not yet resolved.

“

“

The good news was that the Black Blood Sovereign had lost its ability to cast spells. Its mind was in utter chaos, leaving only an instinctive craving for flesh and soul. Its attacks were slow and clumsy, its tentacles even getting tangled up when trying to grasp prey, greatly reducing the threat to the combat professionals.

“

“

The bad news was that the combat professionals were too exhausted to continue fighting. The giant Dwarf general had been forced out of his semi-elemental Son of the Hills form. He was tearing off pieces of molten iron skin that had stuck to his body to cover his large rear, while also feeling his beard. His magnificent, pride-and-joy beard now looked as if a dog had chewed on it, which left the giant Dwarf general both vexed and relieved. At least he still had some whiskers and hadn’t become a beardless Dwarf.

“

“

If Zuknos Greyflame was in this state, the other high-rank combat professionals were even worse off. In the previous battle, everyone had pushed their Bloodline power beyond their limits. Their respective Combat Breathing Methods couldn’t keep up with their vigor consumption, causing them to enter a period of exhaustion prematurely.

“

“

In fact, even if the combat professionals were at their peak, it was unlikely they could kill the Black Blood Sovereign. Against an extraordinary existence of this size with rapid regeneration, the attacks of ordinary combat professionals served only an auxiliary role. The main damage still had to come from the spellcasting abilities of the Shaman of the Moon Goddess and the Dark Elf priestess.

“

“

Now, Sakhirtana’s demon-hunting spiders were all annihilated, Fiad Viel had lost a Moonlight Staff, and the stored power of her Sun Staff was more than half depleted. Crucially, the three priestesses present had lost the confidence to kill the Black Blood Sovereign. They now realized that It was not a pure demon lord, and their pre-battle preparations had been severely flawed. Even if they could do it all over again, it was unlikely the outcome would change.

“

“

Priestess Fiad called Iluth Moonsong to her side. She glanced at the “Freya’s Tear” that Iluth held out, first chanting softly, “Praise the Moon Goddess.” She then accepted the sacred object with both hands, placed it in a bag woven from metal wire, and handed it back to Iluth. With a pleasant expression, she said, “General Moonsong, since Mr. Nightingale entrusted the goddess’s sacred object to you, you shall be responsible for its safekeeping.”

“

“

She paused, then asked with a smile, “Does General Moonsong have any suggestions for the current situation?”

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“

Iluth wore a look of utter astonishment. She knew the proud princess of Aylanta was asking about Mr. Nightingale’s plan. By giving the sacred object to her, Mr. Nightingale had made everyone mistakenly believe she had a secret connection to him.

“

“

“I don’t know… after Mr. Nightingale left us, he didn’t give any further instructions,” Iluth could only say, shaking her head.

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“

Fiad Viel wasn’t particularly disappointed by Iluth’s answer; instead, she felt a smug sense of vindication. By what right could a mere Tree Elf earn the favor of a Sun Elf? Even as a Gold rank powerhouse, Iluth Moonsong was not qualified to participate in a plan personally formulated by a Sun Elf.

“

“

“It is ‘She’… Mr. Nightingale has completed his ascension. She and the Sun Tree are now beings of the same tier,” Fiad emphasized, then ignored Moonsong and turned to the Dark Elf priestess. “Lady Pale Moon, do you have any suggestions?”

“

“

Sakhirtana was not as relaxed as the Moon Elf. Her mission was incomplete and might now be impossible to complete. Princess Fiad Viel’s intention to retreat from the temple was clear, and Sakhirtana could foresee her own miserable fate. However, the Sun Elf was an offspring of the Sun God Frey, a living embodiment of the Sun Tree, and did not belong exclusively to the lunar lineage. She was, in fact, the spiritual leader of all elves, both on the surface and underground.

“

“

The matriarchs of the Underground City periodically sent their heirs to Aylanta to pay homage to the Sun Tree, to stabilize and strengthen their Bloodline power. Otherwise, the Dark Elves would have long since gone their separate ways from their surface cousins.

“

“

If anyone could protect her from the cruel punishment of the Dark Elf matriarchs now, it had to be Mr. Nightingale.

“

“

She thought for a moment, then chose her words carefully. “In the previous battle, many of our brave combat professionals sacrificed their lives. However, Mr. Nightingale’s timing was ingenious, striking just as the high-rank combat professionals were about to exhaust their vigor and the Pale Sovereign was at Its strongest. She grievously wounded the Pale Sovereign and lowered Its station. As a result, not a single one of our high-rank combat professionals has died in battle.”

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“

A bright smile touched the corners of Fiad Viel’s lips as she said dismissively, “Are you suggesting that Mr. Nightingale will need the power of the high-rank combat professionals later, that She has a plan to kill the Black Blood Sovereign for good? But I must remind you, Lady, that noble Sun Elves are naturally protective of their kin. Mr. Nightingale’s goodwill toward Silverhawk City’s General Moonsong is clear proof. Otherwise, how is it that of General Moonsong’s dozen or so young combat professionals, only a single Dwarf Ridgeguard has fallen? This is all thanks to Mr. Nightingale’s protection, and only She could accomplish such a feat.”

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“

Arrogant, conceited bitch… Sakhirtana cursed inwardly, but she had to admit that Princess Fiad Viel’s status was far superior to her own. As an attendant of the Sun Tree and a confidant and Sister to the Elven Empress, even the Dark Elf matriarchs of the Underground City would have to bow to her. Sakhirtana had been of little use in the battle; the fact that Fiad was still asking for her opinion was a sign of a humble and courteous Moon Elf.

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The Elven Empire was strictly hierarchical, and the arrogance of the Moon Elves was never considered a flaw worthy of criticism. But the Dark Elves’ path to survival lay in obeying their superiors and striving to prove their own worth.

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Sakhirtana raised her voice, speaking clearly, “Lady Viel said it herself before: the Pale Sovereign commands the power of a plane accumulated over tens of thousands of years, a power we cannot hope to overcome. I believe that although the Black Blood Sovereign’s mind is currently in chaos and Its station is lowered, It will eventually be able to re-condense Its soul power and recover most of Its strength. The domain of the Realm of All Spirits has not yet receded. We high-rank combat professionals might be able to fight our way out of the temple, but it will be a different story for the mid-rank professionals and Mr. Nightingale’s human subordinates.”

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Holding a high position in the Empire, Fiad Viel was by no means lacking in wisdom. She immediately realized that Sakhirtana had raised her voice so that Mr. Nightingale could hear her.

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“

Thinking deeper, Mr. Nightingale must have already foreseen Sakhirtana’s analysis of the Black Blood Sovereign. So why hadn’t She ordered her human subordinates to withdraw from the temple earlier?

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“

First possibility: Mr. Nightingale intended to kill the Black Blood Sovereign, even at the cost of sacrificing her own human subordinates. Second possibility: Mr. Nightingale was confident she could get her human subordinates out of danger. Third possibility: Mr. Nightingale was also just taking it one step at a time… But none of that mattered. What mattered was Mr. Nightingale’s perception of the Elven Empire, and what I must do to win Her favor… A subordinate should never make decisions for their superior. My plan to persuade Mr. Nightingale to leave the temple and return to Aylanta was a grave mistake!

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“

The Moon Elf priestess came to her senses. She couldn’t help but look up at the temple’s central shaft, as if seeing a pair of dark gold eyes silently watching her. She gave a decisive command, “General Zuknos, please find a way to break through the rubble and open a passage. General Moonsong, take all the mid-rank combat professionals through the passage and re-enter the main temple to gather the Dwarf combat professionals. Then lead them to rendezvous with Princess Korona, and also protect our human allies. The rest of the high-rank combat professionals will stay here and monitor the Black Blood Sovereign’s changes.”

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“As for Lady Pale Moon,” Fiad turned, glanced at her with a hostile expression, and said, “a Dark Elf shaman requires a sufficient number of servants to enhance her power. Please coordinate with General Moonsong to aid the mid-rank combat professionals. You can also take the opportunity to enslave some of the temple demons.”

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Sakhirtana Pale Moon bowed her head respectfully. As she turned to follow Iluth, an imperceptible smile bloomed on her lips. She had achieved her goal.

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“

The giant Dwarf general smashed open the entrance to a collapsed passageway with his warhammer, allowing Iluth Moonsong and Sakhirtana to lead the remaining mid-rank combat professionals out of the shattered great hall. The other Gold rank combat professionals all stayed behind.

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Sikodisi Windsong stood on the shattered high platform of the tenth floor, holding an exquisitely crafted greatbow. She spoke to Fiad Viel, who was not far away. “Lady Viel, there is something I would like to ask. Why did our enhanced Bloodline power fade away after Iluth received the goddess’s sacred object?”

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Fiad exchanged a glance with the other princess from Aylanta before replying to the Wind Whisperer from Silverhawk City, “We need to perform a special ritual in Aylanta to awaken the goddess’s divine power contained within ‘Freya’s Tear.’”

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Sikodisi pointed her greatbow at the Black Blood Sovereign below and asked flatly, “Then how did It do it?”

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The priestess’s eyes narrowed. She observed the Black Blood Sovereign for a moment, then murmured, “It hasn’t moved this entire time…”

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“Right! It’s been occupying the Sacrificial Pit!” Zuknos boomed.

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“

“I understand. The Sacrificial Pit is the key. As long as It leaves the Sacrificial Pit, we can kill It!”

“

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“But It’s so huge. Who could possibly make It leave the pit?”

“

The Black Blood Sovereign sat like a great mountain of flesh atop the Sacrificial Pit, waving its tendrils about randomly. Even with its craving for the flesh and souls of the combat professionals, it refused to budge an inch. The High Moon Elves were at a loss. Zuknos climbed to a spot out of reach of the black tendrils, found a suitable place to sit, and said, “I have a feeling things will take a turn soon. We just need to recover our vigor as quickly as possible and prepare to fight again.”

“

“

“That’s all we can do,” Fiad Viel nodded, temporarily abandoning the idea of going to the tower’s peak to meet Mr. Nightingale. She also sat down cross-legged, circulated her breathing method, and began to restore her vigor.

“

“

In the afternoon, the giant Dwarf suddenly opened his eyes, gazed out beyond The Great Chasm, and said in a low voice, “It’s here…”

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“

In the world outside, where the gray desert and white, snowy mountains intertwined, a bizarre creature was rapidly approaching the temple. It was humanoid, with backward-bending joints in its lower limbs, and it ran with agile, crawling movements, moving at an astonishing speed. Before long, it neared The Great Chasm, then stood up and peered cautiously into the temple.

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“

The monster’s image was clearly visible to the high-rank combat professionals. It was over three meters tall, its smooth skin like white armor that could blend in with the snowy environment. A long tendril trailed from the back of its nearly triangular head, and its eyes were a pure, dark red, like two burning bonfires. The way it observed the temple’s interior was particularly furtive and cautious…

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“A Biological Aberration? A fifth-tier Biological Aberration?”

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A Moon Elf Wind Walk Archer exclaimed uncertainty, “How can it possibly have… wisdom?”

“

“

Biological Aberrations had unstable soul forms and unstable life forms. They generally had very short lifespans, living for two or three years at most. Once a Biological Aberration had eaten all the animals in a certain area, it would soon die. Its flesh and blood would attract other animals to feed, which would then mutate, gradually forming new biological communities.

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The Elven Empire understood Biological Aberrations very well. They knew the creatures lacked wisdom and couldn’t really be classified by life tier. The Moon Elf Wind Walk Archer called this monster a fifth-tier Biological Aberration because its skin was changing color to match the environment of the Asoerta Mountains—one moment the gray of rock, the next the white of snow, but never the gray of the desert. This meant it was not affected by the Realm of All Spirits.

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Only combat professionals of the fifth tier or higher could distinguish between the illusions of the Realm of All Spirits and the true appearance of the Asoerta Mountains!

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Sikodisi had already stood up, her dark eyes sparkling. She said softly, “This is the aberrant war beast controlled by the human expeditionary team’s Wizard! The Halfling Bobo mentioned that Wizard and his pet… I see. So this was Mr. Nightingale’s plan.”

“

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“Everyone, prepare for battle.”

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“

As expected, the Black Blood Sovereign’s four main tentacles simultaneously turned toward The Great Chasm. They slammed heavily onto the opposite cliff face, wrapping around the mountain peaks and pulling Its enormous, heavy body completely out of the pit.

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The pitch-black Sacrificial Pit was finally exposed to the eyes of the high-rank combat professionals.

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Three towering peaks let out a mournful groan under the grip of the massive tentacles. The snow on their summits fractured and slid down, tumbling into the bottomless abyss along with shattered rocks. The Black Blood Sovereign, like a monster from ancient times, forcibly smashed through the outer wall of the Asoerta Temple, using its tentacles as ropes to tumble onto the ridge on the other side of the cliff.

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Seeing this earth-shattering scene, Philip III, under Imosen’s control, stood stunned for a long moment before letting out a strange cry and turning to flee back the way it came.

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“

The Black Blood Sovereign had no legs, relying entirely on its tentacles to pull its body along in pursuit of Philip III. Its body was so immense that each roll covered about a thousand meters, triggering avalanches wherever it passed. The rumbling in the Asoerta Mountains shook heaven and earth.

“

“

However, Philip III ran faster, and the distance between them continued to grow. And so, the Black Blood Sovereign began to change again!

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“

The high-rank combat professionals of the Elven Empire rushed out of The Great Chasm and saw the Black Blood Sovereign madly chasing the aberrant war beast. Chunks of black flesh fell from Its body, withering at a visible rate, turning into a sludge-like substance that then evaporated, becoming grayish-brown dust. The Black Blood Sovereign’s body shrank at an even more astonishing speed. It shed its semi-elemental flesh, lessening the burden on its soul and greatly enhancing its control over its body. In the end, its fortress-sized form transformed into a twenty-meter-tall, four-legged tentacle monster.

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“

Having successfully slimmed down and now possessing legs, the Black Blood Sovereign finally caught up to the aberrant war beast. Its tendrils first compressed inward, then shot out like lightning toward Philip III, binding it tightly and dragging it back. No matter how Philip III bit and struggled, it was useless. The Black Blood Sovereign threw itself onto the aberrant war beast, absorbing it into its own body.

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“

The Black Blood Sovereign was now like a huge ooze monster, slowly蠕动, enveloping its most precious prey. Gradually, Its flesh stopped disintegrating. The beginnings of a head emerged from the top of the ooze. The black flesh twisted and contorted, outlining the shape of a skull, and grew a pair of upward-curving horns. Then came eyes, eyebrows, a mouth, and a nose. When It opened Its eyes, revealing a pair of crimson orbs gleaming with flowing flames, the ooze-like Black Blood Sovereign finally transformed into its perfect body.

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What is a perfect body?

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The ancient species bat undead that once patrolled the skies above the Asoerta Mountains was certainly not one. Its body was too large and too heavy; it had to rely on high-altitude air currents to fly, and once on the ground, it could only crawl slowly. If it weren’t an undead, it would have starved to death long ago.

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The Colossal Slime Behemoth in the Forest of Despair was not a perfect body either. It was an elemental, pan-conscious collective undead creature. Pan-consciousness was tantamount to no consciousness; apart from instinct, they lacked the capacity for logical thought. Thus, they were trapped in a small area, never able to leave, because they were fundamentally incapable of even forming the thought of leaving.

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Victor believed that a perfect body could only be defined by the Creator. For life to be perfect, it must first conform to the Laws of the world. Imagine an Ancient Behemoth roaming a harsh, cold land, on the verge of freezing to death. It finds a small cave where it can take shelter from the brutal cold. It must do everything in its power to get into that cave. If it cannot, it can only accept its demise, or perhaps send its offspring into the cave so that they might live.

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Creator Taelon Ruier set the rules of the world just so. He did not permit excessively large creatures to exist in this era; He did not permit eternally living beings to exist in His world; He did not permit pan-conscious entities to possess the ability of logical thought.

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What He did not permit became the rules, as self-evident as rock being hard and heavy, fire being hot and fleeting, air being light and lively, and water being tangible yet formless. These were unquestionable truths that no one could challenge and no one could change.

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The so-called perfect body was the pinnacle of life that this era, this world, could permit.

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Victor could not kill the Pale Sovereign, nor could he kill the Black Blood Sovereign, but he could kill a perfect body. Therefore, he had seized the Pale Sovereign’s Wizard King’s mask, forcing its soul to revert to a pan-conscious state, leaving it with only the instincts for survival and growth. He then had Imosen control the aberrant war beast to appear outside the temple, using the Bloodline Laws collected by the Biological Aberration to stimulate the Black Blood Sovereign’s instinct to develop a perfect body.

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“

Driven by instinct, the Black Blood Sovereign left the place where the four void elements converged. It was immediately punished by the Laws of the world. Its semi-elemental body began to disintegrate, its form changing to adapt to the world. Since “Freya’s Tear” had been torn from its body, even if it devoured the complex Bloodline Laws of the aberrant beast, its perfect body would not exceed its station and would remain within a range Victor could handle.

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The moment the Black Blood Sovereign finished shaping its perfect body, growing a head to house the Will Side of its soul, its time of death had come.

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A black Umbra shot out from the spire of the Asoerta Temple, silently traversing a distance of over ten thousand meters to pierce the newly formed head of the perfect body.

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With a bang, the combat professionals of the Elven Empire saw the Black Blood Sovereign’s head explode into a brilliant spray of blood, a shockingly garish sight against the mountains that flickered between illusion and reality.

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Victor’s dark gold eyes gradually dimmed, returning to the deep black of the night sky. He let out a long breath and said to his three Dragonkin handmaidens with a wry smile, “All that power I painstakingly saved up is gone again.”

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“My King, I’ll go retrieve your weapon, ‘Umbra’,” Mewen said eagerly, gazing at the spot where the Black Blood Sovereign had died. “A crystal seems to have flown out of the monster’s head. It wasn’t shattered by your void wind element. It might be a treasure. I’ll bring it back too.”

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“Why are you running around with your butt bare?” Victor said with a low chuckle, pressing on Mewen’s smooth, supple shoulder. “That’s no Elemental Rune Crystal made by an Alchemist, and besides, someone else will go pick it up.” His expression turned serious. “The Black Blood Sovereign is dead, but the Ant-man Empress is about to emerge. The real terror is just beginning. We need to escape now… Let’s leave this place.”

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The Dragonkin handmaiden Fugerui blinked her beautiful, pure green eyes and asked, “Your Majesty, the domain of the Realm of All Spirits hasn’t completely faded. What about Narsen and the others trapped in the temple?”

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“

“Narsen and the Alchemical humans should be able to resist the domain power of the Realm of All Spirits, but it will be a bit difficult for Klaus and the other four.” Victor pressed his lips together firmly, then sighed with a frown. “I’ve already sent a telepathic message to Narsen. The subterranean river beneath the Sacrificial Pit might be an escape route… Let’s hope Eglok Graybeard’s divination was accurate. But I’m no god, after all. This is the most I can do… Let’s wish them good luck.”

“

“

Chapter 819: The Beginning of Strife

In the southern Asoerta Mountains, deep within a mountain forest over 600 kilometers from the ruins of the temple’s Alchemy Tower, the Ant-men had built a complex and magnificent underground lair.

Ant-men are social creatures with a simple societal structure, composed of worker ants, soldier ants, guard ants, and the Ant-man queen.

A common Ant-man has a lifespan of only fifteen years. In its short life, it plays the roles of both soldier ant and worker ant. Before the age of eight, a common Ant-man is a soldier of the swarm; after eight, it becomes a worker ant at the very bottom of the colony.

Guard ants are divided into low-level leaders and advanced Ant-men. Low-level leaders have a lifespan of twenty-five years and possess simple intelligence, allowing them to control a number of common Ant-men, directing them in labor and combat.

In comparison, advanced Ant-men and low-level leaders or common Ant-men are like two entirely different species.

They are highly intelligent with powerful souls and a lifespan four times that of the low-level leaders. They can think independently, master the unique psionic talents of the advanced Ant-men, possess emotions and feelings, and are even divided into males and females. However, the vast majority of female advanced Ant-men lack the ability to procreate. In Ant-man society, only the queen can lay eggs, hatching common Ant-men, low-level leaders, and advanced Ant-men.

Ann was a sterile, female, advanced Ant-man.

Today, a familiar and intimate ripple of the soul awoke Ann from her dormancy. It was the call of her mother, the queen. Out of her strong feelings for her Mother, Ann immediately scrambled out of her chamber and rushed towards the queen’s birthing chamber at top speed. Along the way, she ran down and killed dozens of common worker ants.

Ann’s carapace was a silvery-white, exuding a hazy halo. As she moved rapidly through the pitch-black tunnels, she was like an indestructible beam of white light, causing the common worker ants who failed to dodge in time to burst apart. Yet the green and red blood of the Ant-men was blocked by an invisible film, not leaving a single stain on her carapace.

If the queen did not grant authority, an advanced Ant-man could not control any common Ant-men or low-level leaders. Ann couldn’t care less about the common Ant-men, who had little self-awareness and knew only to obey orders. Her speed did not diminish in the slightest as she shot through more than a dozen branching paths, finally entering the main nest where her mother, the queen, resided.

The queen’s main nest was vast and empty. The queen herself was on a birthing platform in the very center. She was six meters long, her humanoid-like upper body appearing petite. Her facial features were as refined and human-like as Ann’s, lacking the compound eyes and large mandibles of the common Ant-men and low-level guards. The queen’s lower body was fat and bloated; it was her egg-laying organ.

Each queen could lay about 200 eggs a day. These eggs, carefully tended by the worker ants, would hatch into common Ant-men, low-level guard ants, and advanced Ant-men after a period ranging from fifteen days to a year. The queen usually stayed in the main nest, attended by high-ranking male guard ants who served as her spouses and protectors. They were male guard ants bred by other queens, incredibly powerful and three times Ann’s size, weighing nearly five thousand pounds.

For the past three years, Ann had not received a summons from her mother, the queen. In fact, her mother had stopped laying eggs nearly a decade ago; she had been gestating a single descendant. Today, all of the more than one hundred advanced guard ants in this lair had rushed to the queen’s side. However, over twenty male ants blocked their path, forbidding the children from approaching the queen. The leader of the male ants even questioned them aloud, “Who told you to come here? How dare you disturb the queen’s labor?”

“Wasn’t it Mother’s summons?”

“Yes, I felt Mother’s soul ripple. It was a summons.”

“I received it as well…”

The advanced Ant-men fell into chaos, asking one another about the information they had received. But the queen paid them no mind. A pained expression twisted her face, and ripples spread across her bloated abdomen as if some terrifying monster was about to burst forth.

“My child, it is not yet time. You must endure a little longer…” A powerful psionic ripple sent waves through the air of the main nest as the queen tried to soothe the descendant in her belly.

The advanced Ant-men and the male ants forgot their dispute and all crowded around, chattering their concern for the queen they so dearly loved.

Two spheres of light bloomed within the queen’s belly. The brilliant light made her abdominal cavity translucent, revealing a humanoid figure. As the light illuminated the entire main nest, accompanied by the queen’s piercing shriek, a pair of arms tore open her belly from the inside. Then, an advanced Ant-man covered in mucus stood up from within the queen’s ruptured abdomen.

It was about 2.2 meters tall and humanoid in form, with a head, shoulders, and four limbs. It lacked the lower half common to Ant-men, but an arthropod-like tail grew from its rear. Its entire body was covered in a cyan carapace, which, unlike the metallic sheen of other advanced Ant-men, was smooth and elastic, more akin to the sensitive skin of a humanoid intelligent being. Four mysterious red markings ran from its chest to its back, glowing brightly just like its eyes. The light from within the queen’s belly had emanated from its eyes and markings.

As its eyes and markings dimmed, the advanced Ant-men finally regained the ability to think and heard the queen say weakly to her newborn descendant, “My child, you…”

“Silence!”

The humanoid advanced Ant-man’s arthropod-like tail whipped through the air, leaving a blur. The queen’s head instantly exploded. A moment later, her upper body, which she had propped up with her arms, slid limply to the ground.

“What have you done?!”

The leader of the male guard ants roared with rage. The shockwave of his voice shook the main nest, raining down dust. He raised his sharp claws and lunged for the newborn’s head, intending to crush the skull of the queen’s murderer on the spot.

Among the advanced Ant-men, the male leaders could not use psionic energy, but they had developed the greatest strength and toughest defenses. The male leader was the best of the best, and his hands clamped around the advanced Ant-man’s head, the muscles beneath his thick carapace bursting with full power. However, the advanced Ant-man who had slain the queen did not move an inch. An invisible psionic force field blocked the male ant’s claws.

Through the gaps between the male ant’s fingers, Ann saw an indifferent eye begin to glow. Then, the advanced Ant-man slowly raised its left hand, gripped the male leader’s face, and easily crushed his head.

It then broke off the male leader’s arms, allowing its own feet to drop from their suspended state to the ground. Then it blurred into a phantom, weaving back and forth among the charging male guard ants, killing them one by one and tearing them to shreds.

The powerful male guard ants had no ability to fight back against this advanced Ant-man and were slaughtered in an instant.

“Eat everything on the ground,” the humanoid advanced Ant-man commanded the other advanced guard ants, word by word, as it stood amidst the carnage.

At its words, the queen whom the advanced guard ants had once revered now seemed like the most delicious food. They hesitated for a moment but were ultimately unable to resist the temptation of the delicacy. One by one, they rushed forward, scrambling to devour the corpses of the male ants and the queen.

Ann was the last to eat. Looking at the queen’s remains, an indescribable emotion welled up inside her; she felt both pain and an intense hunger. She picked up half of the queen’s arm, walked to a corner, and chewed slowly, tears streaming from her eyes for the first time.

The humanoid Ant-man paid no attention to Ann’s unusual behavior. After the guard ants had devoured the flesh and blood of the male ants and the queen, it said with a cold gaze, “I am the War Ant King, Apollis. I am your king. I am the sovereign of the ant swarms.”

“Apollis… King… Sovereign of the ant swarms, the King of War!”

The advanced guard ants threw their heads back and let out frenzied shrieks. Ann found herself screeching along with them. She felt her soul connect to dozens of low-level guard ants, psionic energy pouring into her body, making her stronger than she had ever been. At the same time, she deeply felt the will of the War Ant King.

An intense psionic ripple swept through the entire lair. The hibernating soldier ants all awoke and, along with the worker ants, let out a roar, responding to the War Ant King’s will.

“The ant swarms can only have one king. My subjects, follow me to kill the other unborn ant kings,” Apollis issued his second command to all the advanced guard ants through their mental link.

“Enough!”

A vast and majestic will suddenly descended into the depths of every Ant-man’s mind. The War Ant King’s will was like a bonfire under the sun compared to Hers. She instantly soothed the entire colony’s agitation and frenzy. Ann could no longer stand; her body prostrated on the ground as she listened to that will command, “Apollis, take your subordinates to the temple. Kill all living beings in the temple and capture a human girl named Beldina. I will have the other queens cede some of their authority to you, but remember, you must bring Beldina back to the lair safe and sound, even if you die…”

The voice in her mind gradually faded, but the inviolable command and the image of the human girl, Beldina, were imprinted upon Ann’s Will Side. She and the other advanced guard ants all looked at their king. If he dared to defy this command, they would not hesitate to lead the entire swarm to destroy the newborn War Ant King.

“To the temple,” King Apollis commanded expressionlessly.

Northern Asoerta Mountains, Assyrian settlement.

A stone tower over fifty meters high stood amidst rows of thatched huts, like a giant worshipped by the masses. This four-sided, sloping spire was both the temple of the Assyrians and the royal palace of the great King Mokemo.

In the dead of night, the great King Mokemo snored away in bed, holding a beautiful young slave girl. His body was as fat as a large wild boar, and the snores rumbling from his throat were deafening.

Mokemo was old now. More than thirty years of a pampered life had eroded his willpower, and his physical strength and vigor were not what they used to be. As a once-renowned Warrior of his tribe, Mokemo still possessed a basic level of alertness. He sensed a trace of malice and immediately startled awake. Propping up his obese body, he looked dazedly towards the door and saw a hunched, withered figure.

It was an old woman wearing a feathered crown. She was bone-thin with dark skin, her left hand leaning on a wooden staff carved in the likeness of a venomous snake, and her right hand holding a shrunken head artifact. Her wrinkled, shriveled old face was stretched tight against her skull, making her look like a living corpse.

“Harenadak, so it’s you.” The great King Mokemo recognized the visitor and let go of the stone axe by his pillow. Wiping the cold sweat from his forehead with his hand, he said with feigned authority, “What are you doing here so late? Where are the Warriors guarding the gate? How dare they let you in?”

Mokemo thoroughly detested the old Shamaness before him. In fact, he loathed all the Shamans in the kingdom, and Harenadak was the one he loathed the most. For she was his wife in name, the Shamaness Queen of the Assyrian kingdom.

Mokemo felt not a shred of affection for Harenadak. Although his wife was much younger than he was, she looked older and uglier than his dead grandmother. However, the kings of Assyria had always been required to marry a Shamaness to become the great king of the Assyrians, and Mokemo was no exception.

Before the previous king’s death, he had summoned all twenty of his sons to the temple and had the then-fourteen-year-old Harenadak choose a husband from among them. The ugly Harenadak chose Mokemo. Afterward, she sacrificed Mokemo’s brothers one by one to All Spirits. At first, Mokemo was glad that the Shamaness Queen had strengthened his authority, but when Harenadak sacrificed his last few little brothers, that gladness turned to fear.

Mokemo was afraid that one day his own sons would be placed on the sacrificial altar by the next Shamaness Queen to have their hearts cut out and their heads chopped off, just as Harenadak had done to his brothers.

If not for the fact that the Shamans knew how to treat illnesses and wounds, and could even extend the king’s life, Mokemo would have absolutely had Harenadak executed and abolished the system of the Shamaness Queen. Every time Harenadak presided over a Blood Sacrifice ceremony, the sight of her ugly and evil smile gave Mokemo the impulse to kill her.

Fear turned into disgust and hatred. During his reign, Mokemo had constantly tried to suppress the privileged class of Shamans. He united the populace, treated the slaves well, and elevated the status of the Warriors. He changed the triennial Blood Sacrifice ceremony to a sexennial one, adding a competitive element and pardoning the winners. He then trained those surviving slaves into his confidants, forming the Snake Eye Guard, which was loyal only to him.

Mokemo had already managed to eliminate over a dozen Shamans and purge the Warriors who were biased toward or sympathetic to them. He was preparing to get rid of Harenadak within his lifetime and rewrite the laws of the Assyrian kingdom. Because of this, the great King Mokemo was usually extra cautious. His daily life was entirely managed by the slaves who supported him, and even the concubines who attended his bed were slave girls, giving the Shamans no opportunity to harm him.

As for Harenadak, all the people around her had been replaced by Mokemo’s Snake Eye Guard. She was under strict surveillance, practically under house arrest.

Today, Harenadak had appeared silently in the king’s bedchamber. This was definitely not normal!

Mokemo pretended to have just woken from a deep sleep. He climbed naked from the bed and walked nonchalantly toward the Shamaness Queen. His corpulent body still held the strength to tear a tiger limb from limb. He was confident that as he got closer to Harenadak, he could kill her with a single punch before she could cast a spell.

The great King Mokemo’s stout body was like a wall of flesh blocking Harenadak’s path, but the Shamaness Queen paid him no mind, smiling as she said, “They are all asleep, just like your beloved slave girl. Even if you were to dig out my heart right now and let my blood flood the bedchamber, they would not wake.”

“Your voice, why… And your shadow?” Mokemo clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white, the bones throughout his body cracking and popping. But in the end, he lacked the courage to strike the Shamaness Queen. Instead, he took a fearful step back, cold sweat crawling down his pale face.

Harenadak’s voice was crisp and melodious, full of youthful vitality, like that of a teenage girl. Her shadow, cast upon the floor, was long, slender, and graceful, a stark contrast to her withered, shriveled body, adding an air of eerie strangeness.

“Don’t be afraid… Where has that Mokemo the Warrior gone, the one who once slaughtered a tribe of wandering Ogres and used their skulls as drinking cups?” Harenadak chuckled softly. “I once admired you. I chose you as my husband, helped you ascend the throne, and eliminated your treacherous brothers for you. Yet you want to kill me… I know that. I have always known. But I want to tell you, I don’t care, because death is not the end for me. The only thing that saddens me is that you hate me; you hate the Shamaness Queen who admired you.”

“Harenadak, there may be a misunderstanding between us… You know, a viper will fear another viper…”

“No need to explain. I can understand. You detest my ugly appearance and would rather have beautiful young slave girls bear your children. I think, if I could regain my original appearance, you might like me. We could start over.”

Mokemo composed himself slightly, trying to make his tone sound more sincere. “Harenadak, at my age, your appearance is not really important. What we need is trust. Yes, we need to rebuild our relationship of trust.”

Harenadak tilted her head, sizing up Mokemo. Her expression was like that of a mischievous young girl, but her shriveled, smiling face was terrifying. “How will you know you won’t like me if you don’t see my true face? There’s a mirror over there. Take me over to have a look.”

The shrunken head artifact in the Shamaness Queen’s hand remained aimed at the great King Mokemo. Pale flames danced in its eye sockets, preventing Mokemo from making any rash moves. He had no choice but to turn and walk toward the copper mirror hanging on the wall. By the light of the torches, Mokemo saw Harenadak in the mirror and was immediately captivated by her.

In the mirror, the Shamaness Queen was tall and voluptuous. Her rounded legs were long and straight, and her slender, snake-like waist gave her an enchanting curve. Her dark skin had a subdued luster, like the ivory sculptures in the royal palace collection. Her face was pure and beautiful, and her reddish-brown eyes each had a vertical slit, making them seem mysterious and bewitching.

The great King Mokemo could not tear his eyes away from her. He watched as the peerless beauty in the mirror spoke to him, “I can see that you like the real me… Mokemo, do you want to regain your youthful body as well?”

Mokemo stroked the copper mirror and murmured, “I can also regain my youthful body?”

“All Spirits and All Hallows have been gone from the Assyrians for far, far too long, so long that you and the Assyrian people have forgotten their greatness,” the Harenadak in the mirror said with a smile. “But things are different now. All Spirits have awakened, and All Hallows have returned. The Yasurta Empire will surely rise again, and you will be King Mokemo, the restorer of the Empire. All Spirits and All Hallows will bestow glory and power upon King Mokemo.”

“Then what must I do?”

“Blood Sacrifice… All Spirits and All Hallows need the nourishment of soul power. Only a large-scale Blood Sacrifice can answer the call of the Ancestral Spirits… Start with the slaves here, then send all your Warriors out to capture savage prisoners. Offer their flesh, blood, and souls to All Spirits and All Hallows.”

“Blood Sacrifice?” Mokemo hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Of course. However, I have already pardoned the slaves here. Sacrificing them will damage my prestige. But I promise I will send them out to capture more savage prisoners to offer to All Spirits and All Hallows… We will hunt the savages next autumn. That way, we can also seize some of the savages’ harvest from their villages, and leave some for the savage children so they can survive, grow up, and procreate more little savages.”

The beauty in the mirror gazed tenderly at Mokemo, her voice melodious. “Capture the savages who have grown scales, and leave the women and children behind. This is the ancient method of Blood Sacrifice for the Assyrian Empire. I didn’t expect you to remember the ancient ways… Mokemo, you truly are a great king beloved by the slaves. However, All Spirits and All Hallows have just awakened, and they are very weak now. We can arrange for a small Blood Sacrifice first, before sunset tomorrow.”

The great King Mokemo was completely immersed in the tenderness of the beauty in the mirror. He failed to notice that his own reflection was missing from the mirror, and the words he spoke were his true thoughts from the bottom of his heart. “I can arrange a small Blood Sacrifice of a few dozen people.”

“Very good, Mokemo. Then let’s start with you.” A pair of long, slender arms reached out from the mirror. The beauty’s delicate hands gently cupped Mokemo’s cheeks and lifted his head from his neck.

The next day, rivers of blood flowed through the Assyrian settlement. Thousands of slaves, bound by grass ropes, were led in a long line to the Blood Sacrifice altar on the pyramid. Their blood stained the temple steps, their heads pressed onto mounds of earth. The Shamans wrapped the slaves’ heads, along with the dirt mounds, in flax cloth. The heads of the great King Mokemo and the Snake Eye Warriors were also among them.

The Blood Sacrifice ceremony continued until dusk. When the last slave’s blood was spilled at the temple, the several Shamans at the highest point of the temple walked to the Shamaness Queen’s side. A gaunt old Shaman said to her, “Chief Priestess, the Assyrians have no king now. Should we select a new great king from among Mokemo’s sons?”

Harenadak, wearing a crown of snake-tailed vulture feathers, was tall and voluptuous, her face fair and bewitching. Holding her snake-headed wooden staff, she smiled and said, “There is no need! All Spirits and All Hallows have told me that the Azoretta people will have a new Queen. Her name is Beldina. She will unite the power of the Four Seasons Wizard King and lead us to restore the glory of the ancient Empire.”

“Beldina? Where is she?” the old Shaman asked, puzzled.

“I will go find her myself.” Harenadak pondered for a moment, then frowned and said, “The Undying One is also looking for her. All Spirits and All Hallows are trying to restrain The Undying One’s will, but the Ancestral Spirits are very weak right now. She will break free soon. After I leave, you must lead the tribe’s Warriors to capture savages and hold Blood Sacrifice ceremonies. Otherwise, if The Undying One finds our Queen first, it will be too late.”

“In that case, Chief Priestess, I will take some Warriors with you to find this Beldina,” the old Shaman said.

Harenadak shook her head. “All Spirits and All Hallows have just awakened, and your powers have not yet recovered. I will go by myself. Besides, the Snake Warriors of the tribe are not tame. To prevent them from rebelling while I’m away, I will return the great King Mokemo to them right now!”

The Shamaness Queen’s snake-headed staff struck the temple altar heavily. The flax cloths wrapping the great King Mokemo and the Snake Eye slave guards began to tighten. The black mounds of earth surged like waves, and one by one, giant monsters over three meters tall rose from the mounds. A black, gelatinous substance formed their tall, strong bodies, and two pale flames lit up in each of their eye sockets.

Seeing the transformation of the great King Mokemo and the Snake Eye Guard, the Azoretta people all trembled and prostrated themselves on the ground, kowtowing repeatedly to the Shamans on the pyramid, chanting praises to All Spirits and All Hallows.

And at that moment, Harenadak’s figure had already vanished from the top of the pyramid.

Chapter 820: Ruminations on the Origin

Twelve days after the battle at the temple, the weather warmed and the ice and snow began to melt. Waterfalls like strips of white silk hung from the majestic Asoerta Mountains, heralding the end of the Season of Water. The new spring of rejuvenation had finally arrived.

Sakhirtana Pale Moon sped through the damp forest, flanked by five Black Blood Demons of varying forms acting as her guards. They were mostly agile types, their bodies not only reeking of a foul stench but also covered in venomous, hideous bone spurs, making them unsuitable for riding. Thus, Sakhirtana could only travel on foot.

The Dark Elf priestess was not known for her stamina. After more than ten days of relentless, sleepless travel across the mountains, she had finally escaped danger. More than four thousand kilometers from the Asoerta Temple, she slipped into the dense, great forest to conceal her tracks. However, Sakhirtana felt her physical energy reaching its limit. She was now exhausted and sleepy, bereft of the elegance of a High Elf. The ladies’ armor, exquisitely crafted by black dwarf craftsmen, was spattered with mud. Her brilliant purple hair had been cut short to her shoulders and now clung wetly to her delicate cheeks. To make matters worse, she had been drenched from head to toe by icy meltwater when passing through a waterfall, soaking even her inner armor.

While fleeing for her life, she hadn’t felt a thing, but now that her nerves had settled somewhat, Sakhirtana felt sticky and deeply uncomfortable all over. She desperately needed to build a bonfire to dry her clothes and armor, and perhaps even take a bath before getting a long, peaceful sleep.

Following a winding forest stream, Sakhirtana found a small, open lake. The water was crystal clear, its surface as still as a mirror, reflecting the blue sky, white clouds, and the brilliant golden sun. Forest lakes like this, so close to mountain water sources, were generally devoid of fish, shrimp, or water birds, and naturally, there were no ferocious aquatic beasts.

The Dark Elf priestess did not rush to bathe. Instead, she cautiously circled the lake’s edge, staying within the dense forest, and sent her demon servants to scout the surrounding area and hunt some animals. She herself leaped onto an ancient tree with gnarled branches and pulled out dry grass and withered leaves from a hollow to use as tinder. When her demon servants returned with a forest deer, Sakhirtana confirmed that there was nothing unusual in the vicinity. Only then did she light a bonfire, remove her damp armor and war boots, and hang them by the fire to dry. Revealing her beautifully curved body, she stepped into the lake on her long, well-proportioned legs and began to swim and play in the clear water like a mermaid.

The early spring lake water was bone-chillingly cold, but Dark Elves, who lived underground, naturally possessed a higher Elemental Resistance than surface elves. This water temperature was much warmer than the subterranean dark rivers, making it just right for Sakhirtana. She swam to her heart’s content, enjoying the gentle caress of the water. When she grew tired, she crossed her long, straight legs and lay back on the surface to rest with her eyes closed.

She didn’t know how long she had slept when, through her Mental Link, Sakhirtana sensed the fear and warning in her demon servants’ minds. She immediately sank into the lake, adjusting her posture to keep only the part of her head above her eyes out of the water, and looked toward the opposite shore.

Two tall, slender, and gracefully curved figures came into Sakhirtana’s amethyst-like eyes. One had blue hair and blue eyes, the other green hair and green eyes. Both had a pair of forward-curving, pure white horns on their heads. They were exceptionally beautiful. Their chests were simply wrapped in animal hides, and they wore short hide skirts, revealing large patches of fair, delicate skin. They looked like fey wandering through the woods.

Yet Sakhirtana’s heart was seized by an emotion called fear. She recognized these two beautiful, humanoid females. The blue-haired one was named Mewen, and the green-haired one was Daphgriel. They were both Dragonkin handmaidens of the Son of the Sun. Sakhirtana would also never forget the sight of these two handmaidens transforming into over eight-meter-long flying dragons to battle the Pale Sovereign in the temple.

Surrendering without a fight was not the style of a High Dark Elf. Sakhirtana was, after all, a Legendary-rank spellcaster. She quietly activated a secret trick to resist the Dragonkin handmaidens’ Fearful Gaze and rapidly assessed the situation and her options.

To her despair, she found her chances of escaping the two Dragonkin were zero. These two possessed a powerful ancient dragon bloodline. Their Dragon’s Might could be controlled at will, almost an innate talent that required little to no vigor, allowing them to exert mental pressure on an opponent for extended periods. Although Dragon’s Might was generally stronger than the pure-blood Dragonkin’s own combat prowess, it was still a part of their power. Any spellcaster under constant pressure from Dragon’s Might would inevitably make a mistake over time, and the consequences of that were obvious.

Sakhirtana also didn’t believe she could successfully charm a pure-blood Dragonkin in a short amount of time. If she were fully equipped and holding the sacred dagger of Greyfang City, she might have had a fighting chance. But now she was floating naked in the middle of a lake, and the two Dragonkin would not give her any opportunity to exploit.

Most importantly, she had previously ordered her demon servants to scout the area around the lake and they had found nothing unusual. Dragonkin were proud, intelligent beings who generally didn’t bother to conceal their presence, which would have been easily detected by her demon servants. The fact that these two powerful Dragonkin females had snuck up to the lake shore and revealed themselves to Sakhirtana meant they knew her location and had come prepared.

Since they could pinpoint their target in the vast Endless Forest, it would be very difficult for Sakhirtana to escape their pursuit.

She recalled that the master these Dragonkin handmaidens served—that Son of the Sun who possessed the standing of a Demigod—had once killed the Black Blood Sovereign from a great distance.

In truth, Sakhirtana had anticipated being targeted by the Sun Elf. It was just that she had been in a hurry to escape the threat of the Grace insectoid undead and the Ant-man Legion, and had left the temple alone before she had time to consider a strategy to deal with the Sun Elf.

Just as she expected, the blue-haired, blue-eyed Dragonkin handmaiden, Mewen, spoke to her. “Dark Elf, My King wishes to see you. Come with us.”

Sakhirtana gently paddled her long legs in the water and said tentatively, “It is my honor to meet the master of two such fine ladies… May I put on my clothes first?”

“No need, you’re fine just like this… You are a beautiful Dark Elf. The King might take you as a servant,” Daphgriel said, covering her mouth with her hand as she giggled, her green eyes twinkling with a playful and cunning light.

An idea sparked in Sakhirtana’s mind. This was also a way out, she thought. As she began to calculate how to flatter the Sun Elf, her thoughts of resistance faded.

“As you wish.” A slight smile touched the corners of the Dark Elf’s mouth as she swam toward the opposite shore. Sparkling water droplets, reflecting the sunlight, slid naturally from her smooth skin. By the time her slender, jade-like feet touched the shore, Sakhirtana was dry and clean everywhere except for her shoulder-length purple hair.

She followed the two Dragonkin handmaidens into the forest by the lake. Through her Mental Link, she ordered her demon servants to bring her equipment and belongings, trailing them at a distance to avoid any misunderstanding with the handmaidens.

Mewen and Fugerui weren’t bothered by Sakhirtana’s subtle maneuvers. They led her swiftly through the woods for about fifty kilometers until they reached a clearing.

This small clearing was not natural but had been hewn by someone. Several large, felled trees were piled at the edge of the clearing, and a simple wooden platform had been built on top of the smoothly cut stumps. A young man with black hair and gold eyes sat on a log. Beside him stood another Dragonkin handmaiden with twin horns. She had green hair and eyes, just like Fugerui. She wore a leather armor vest and a short battle skirt, with a pair of half-heeled, knee-high war boots on her legs. Her emerald eyes were curiously examining the naked captive.

Sakhirtana paid no attention to the small, temporary camp or the unfamiliar Dragonkin handmaiden. Her eyes were fixed, unblinking, on the young man with black hair and gold eyes.

Sakhirtana was used to seeing handsome elves, and she wouldn’t hesitate to execute a male Dark Elf who made a mistake, but the beauty of the lord before her was something she had never seen before. He possessed an extraordinary charm that made even the selfish, cold-blooded Dark Elf priestess unable to control her emotions. She felt an irresistible urge to be near him, to protect him, to see him at every moment. However, his bright golden eyes, which shone with a shifting light, radiated a majesty and power that prevented the priestess from even thinking of possessing this beauty. All these emotions blended together into a feeling she experienced for the first time: reverence and love.

The Dark Elf priestess only snapped out of her reverie when the black-haired, gold-eyed Sun Elf walked up to her. But the first words he spoke nearly made Sakhirtana’s heart burst.

“You look a lot like a wife of mine…”

In the Elvish language, the words “wife” and “husband” were generally used only by lower elves, representing an equal domestic relationship. High Elves, on the other hand, would use “partner,” “lover,” or “master” to reflect the subordinate nature of their intimate relationships. In fact, equal marital relationships were rare among almost all higher life forms, including the Knight-Nobles of the human kingdoms. However, High-ranked Knights, out of a strong emotional need and for the sake of family unity, would give their lovers sufficient respect and were accustomed to using “husband” and “wife” to refer to their intimate partners.

High Elves did not have this difficulty. Their souls were immune to the encroachments of the Elemental Sea, and they adhered to the partner-based marriage system unique to higher life forms.

The Sun Elf said she looked like a “wife.” Sakhirtana was overjoyed. She lowered her head, her slender hands fidgeting, fingers twisting together. Her face was flushed a brilliant red, and even her long, elegantly pointed ears had turned a lovely shade of pink.

Looking at those long ears twitching back and forth, Victor couldn’t resist reaching out to stroke one. The Dark Elf priestess’s delicate, pert nose immediately let out a sweet hum. Mustering her courage, she looked at him with melting eyes and said softly, “My lord, I… I have just come of age and do not yet have a partner…”

Victor regretted his careless action. What was he thinking, touching a Dark Elf’s ear?

The battle at the temple had a huge impact on him. To be precise, the reality law of “Freya’s Tear” had elevated his Bloodline talent to the level of an ancient species, enhancing his extraordinary power by more than tenfold. Fortunately, the enhancement from “Freya’s Tear” was comprehensive, and his primordial human bloodline was also elevated in sync. Otherwise, Victor suspected his dual bloodline Talent Tree would have been destroyed right then and there.

Despite this, the negative consequences of the temple battle were also terrifying. Pushing himself beyond his limits had completely drained his vigor, leaving not a single drop. The Raging Wind Sword Saint had to rely on the protection of his three Dragonkin handmaidens to escape the dangerous situation. The good news was that the cap on his Spirit attribute increased by two points as a result. After the Dragonkin handmaidens moved him to a safe location, he dedicated himself to practicing the mythical three-headed lizard visualization and finally recovered a portion of his strength.

However, the problem with the Poltanos visualization was that it caused the practitioner’s desires to surge, making their bestial instincts stronger than their rationality. This was an advantage for High-ranked Knights, as innate human desires could strengthen their connection to reality law and help them resist the encroachment of the Elemental Sea. On the other hand, it was crucial for the practitioner to return their bestial instincts to the realm of human emotion and rational thought. Otherwise, the mythical three-headed lizard would affect the practitioner’s Will Side, turning them into a true beast.

When a High-ranked Knight channeled their Aura, their rationality surpassed their emotions, so they didn’t need to worry about going mad from practicing the Poltanos Secret Art. Victor had X-3, so his rational will could rival that of a Legendary Knight.

Of course, visualizing the mythical three-headed lizard for days and nights on end still had an effect on Victor.

The hunting instinct, the desire to kill, narcissism, curiosity, possessiveness, the thirst for knowledge, appetite, and so on—all his primal desires were amplified. All sorts of thoughts would pop into his mind from time to time. As soon as X-3 suppressed one thought, another would emerge…

Simply put, Victor’s mental state was particularly emotional at the moment. And he couldn’t keep X-3 running all the time.

And just then, Mewen and Fugerui brought a completely naked Dark Elf priestess before him.

This must have been Fugerui’s idea. Both she and Dili looked gentle on the outside but were actually scheming and sinister, truly befitting of Dragonkin handmaidens of the green dragon bloodline.

In reality, Victor ought to praise Fugerui. The Dark Elf priestess was a powerful and mysterious spellcaster, and Victor had no idea what kind of secret tricks she possessed. During the battle at the temple, she had acted only a few times. Especially when “Freya’s Tear” enhanced the bloodline talents of the high-rank combat professionals and everyone was giving their all to attack the Pale Sovereign, only Sakhirtana had sat on the sidelines. Her strength was surely the most intact.

When strangers meet in the wilderness, they follow the Dark Forest Law. Sakhirtana being unarmed and unclothed was in Victor’s best interest for safety.

Because his Nemesis talent couldn’t distinguish colors, this was the first time Victor had seen a Dark Elf priestess from the Underground City with his own eyes. Sakhirtana Pale Moon’s purple hair, purple eyes, and natural charm reminded Victor of Sophia. He now finally understood that the purple-eyed noblewoman’s bloodline originated from the High Dark Elves. He also understood why the little Baron Wimbledon had been so deeply in love with Sophia, and why Sophia, in turn, had been so tender toward him after his Wind Walk talent awakened. It was all because of the mutual attraction between elven bloodlines. When Sophia’s Dark Elf bloodline was strong, the little Baron fell for her extraordinary charm; when Victor’s Moon Elf bloodline was strong, Sophia was in turn attracted to him.

No wonder Queen Cynthia of the Eleanor family and Princess Celine were both so fond of nobles with Moon Elf bloodlines.

Sakhirtana’s beauty was on par with Sophia’s, and with the exotic charm of her pointed ears and slender eyebrows, she might even have a slight edge. Victor noticed that her skin was flawless and her delicate, jade-like feet were spotless despite having walked so far. Considering that Dark Elves did not have the Wind Walk talent, this meant that Sakhirtana had already ignited her fire of the mind, and her own combat power was likely on par with an initial-rank Silver Knight.

However, her willpower was far weaker than Sophia’s. She was utterly mesmerized upon seeing Victor, unable to even tear her eyes away.

Spellcasters who used divine arts gained their extraordinary power easily, so their willpower was relatively weak. They needed to make up for this shortcoming through arduous training. Victor believed that as a fellow legendary powerhouse, Sikodisi Windsong’s reaction upon seeing him would certainly be much better than the Dark Elf priestess’s, but definitely not as composed as the Gold-rank General Iluth Moonsong.

Victor discovered that the charm of the Sun Elf bloodline had a particularly strong effect on High Elves, followed by Tree Elves, and then Wild Elves. For instance, the Wild Elves in the Silverhawk City scout squad would only peek at Mr. Nightingale from a distance, lacking even the courage to speak to him. They were, however, quite flirtatious with the Tree Elf Olavie Windsong, and liked to flock around him whenever they had the chance.

The vast difference in their level of life was like an insurmountable chasm, forming the strict social hierarchy of the Elven Empire.

This feature of elven society was somewhat like a bee colony, but if represented graphically, the hierarchical structure of elven society was identical to that of a tree.

The Sun Elf was the root; the Greater Elves and Moon Elves were the trunk; the Tree Elves were the branches; and the Wild Elves were the leaves. When danger arose, the Wild Elves would risk their lives to protect the Tree Elves, the Tree Elves would protect the Greater Elves and Moon Elves, and the High Elves would do everything in their power to protect the one and only Sun Elf.

If the leaves fell off, new buds could grow. But if the root was severed, the fate of the tree was sealed.

Fortunately, the Sun Elf was unique, but also not unique, because it was impossible for there to be only one Sun Elf on the timeline.

Combining the Azoretta people’s Realm of All Spirits, the Ant-man Alchemy Tower, and the social hierarchy of the Elven Empire, Victor’s knowledge jigsaw puzzle gave birth to a brand-new research topic: “the Origin.”

In fact, theologians, philosophers, and scientists on Earth had all been trying to solve the problem of “the Origin.” For example, how did the universe form? Scientists proposed the Big Bang theory as a hypothesis and gradually verified it within this framework. However, even if the Big Bang theory were proven, who could explain what caused the Big Bang?

Research into “the Origin” seemed to have no end, but the phased results would eventually realize their practical value.

Victor’s situation was much the same. He couldn’t possibly explore the end of the Origin in his lifetime, but studying the topic of “the Origin” held extraordinary significance for him.

The domain power of “Freya’s Tear” had raised the cap on Victor’s Spirit attribute by two points, which was undoubtedly a huge step forward. At the same time, Victor also realized that the Force of Destiny coiled around him was tightening.

The Sun God Frey’s Light of the Mind had illuminated The Path for the Elves, creating a framework. Victor occupied the position and power of a Sun Elf, but his will drifted at the edge of this elven framework. The Force of Destiny was pulling him back into the framework established by the Sun God. The power bestowed by the moon sacred object was, in fact, a rope to tow Victor in. No one knew that Victor had tossed “Freya’s Tear” to Iluth Moonsong because the sacred object was too hot for him to handle. If he had held onto the moon sacred object when he was pulled up to the ceiling, he would have immediately transformed into a true Sun Elf.

Even so, the two extra points to his Spirit attribute had made his dual bloodline Talent Tree shaky. Victor still hadn’t fully returned to normal, and operating X-3 wasn’t as effortless as before.

Progress in his research on “the Origin” might not directly increase his individual strength, but that wasn’t important. Victor believed that applying some of the research findings could, to some extent, solve the problem of the backlash from the Force of Destiny.

The Dark Elf priestess was an excellent research subject. She wasn’t deeply entangled with the Elven Empire and possessed knowledge of the Abyss. Right now, Victor was preparing to formulate corresponding strategies for the third demon invasion. To gather firsthand information on the demons of the Abyss, he had to rely on the Dark Elf priestess from the Underground City.

Sakhirtana was like a loose thread on a ball of yarn. Victor felt he would be letting himself down if he didn’t give it a tug.

However, the beautiful and charming Lady Pale Moon, having been stirred by the Sun Elf, now had the coy look of a woman ready to be plucked. It was hopeless to expect her to have a normal conversation with the Gold-Eyed Earl.

Victor cursed himself internally again. Why did I have to go and touch the Dark Elf’s ear?

He let out a frustrated sigh, motioned for the Dragonkin handmaiden Dili to bring over a cloak stitched together from various animal hides, and personally draped it over Sakhirtana, covering her beautifully curved body. “I can see you’re exhausted,” he said gently. “You’re safe here. You can get some sleep.”

“Mmm,” Sakhirtana nodded obediently, leaning into Victor’s embrace and resting her head on his shoulder. She closed her eyes and, just like that, drifted off to sleep.

Victor felt the two soft mounds pressed against his chest and smelled the faint, elegant fragrance from Sakhirtana’s hair, a scent that stirred the emotions. This special aroma, tinged with charm, was one he had also smelled on Sophia, and his heart couldn’t help but feel a little itchy.

The Raging Wind Sword Saint gnashed his teeth as a stray thought crossed his mind: Should I take this fey, or kill her?

Chapter 821: Voluntary Submission

At noon the next day, Sakhirtana was awakened from a deep sleep by the aroma of roasting meat. She didn’t open her eyes, maintaining a steady, deep breath. Even her long, elegant, pointed ears remained perfectly still; she looked as if she were still asleep.

She remembered falling asleep in the Sun Elf’s arms yesterday. To doze off beside a strange Demigod powerhouse without any precautions was tantamount to entrusting her life completely to a stranger.

For a female Dark Elf from the Underground City, this was an unimaginable mistake. The only explanation was that she had been charmed by him.

High Dark Elves all possessed a talent for charm, and Sakhirtana was one of the best among them. She had also undergone systematic and rigorous training from the Matrons of the Underground City, giving her a profound understanding of charm and mental enslavement. Her abilities far surpassed those of an ordinary High Dark Elf, earning her the title of Spiderfang City’s master of charm.

Sakhirtana recalled how, after being captured by the powerful dragonkin handmaiden and meeting the mysterious Son of the Sun, she had employed her innate charm in an exceedingly subtle way. This charm technique left no trace, focusing on highlighting Sakhirtana’s frailty and harmlessness, aiming to evoke the Son of the Sun’s pity in a way as subtle and silent as the spring rain, thereby winning his favor. She had done it so covertly that she was confident he wouldn’t detect the slightest hint of her charm arts.

The reality, however, was that the moment she saw the Son of the Sun, she had become too agitated to control her emotions. She had only prepared a trivial charm technique, but her talent had unfolded completely, like a tiny crack opening from within her mind and splitting into a gaping chasm. As a result, she had suffered a severe charm backlash. When the Son of the Sun told her to sleep, she had naturally fallen asleep, completely losing the ability to think for herself.

Sakhirtana felt terrified. She could order a captured slave to commit suicide with a smile, yet her mental state a moment ago had been no different from that of a slave.

However, Sakhirtana had to admit that the feeling was absolutely wonderful. The Son of the Sun’s aura made her feel both secure and content. Especially when he had caressed her ear—the Dark Elf priestess recalled it now, and a tingling numbness spread through her entire body, from her ears to the tips of her toes.

It might not be so bad to be a high-ranking female slave by the Son of the Sun’s side. The only thing worth worrying about was the fire of jealousy from the three dragonkin… Sakhirtana thought to herself that she had already obtained the Black Blood Sovereign’s Soul Fire crystal. According to the agreement between the Matrons of the Underground City and the Elven Empress, they would support her in establishing a new Underground City. It would be best if she could rule an Underground City independently, but if the Son of the Sun was unwilling to let her go, the promises of the Elven Empress and the Matrons were meaningless.

A high-ranking female slave to a Sun Elf should hold a higher status and more power than a Matron of the Underground City. But the competition would surely be more brutal… The Dark Elf priestess from Spiderfang City thought about the problem according to her old habits.

In the Underground City, the High Matrons disregarded, and even encouraged, endless scheming among their subordinates. Many of the bloody, life-or-death struggles were often born from the incredibly intense jealousy of female Dark Elves. Sakhirtana had no confidence that she could climb above the three dragonkin handmaidens. If she couldn’t, the fires of their jealousy could burn her to ashes.

Sakhirtana believed her worries were justified. Yesterday, when she had thrown herself into the Sun Elf’s embrace, the Fearful Gaze of the three dragonkin handmaidens had been fixed upon her. Even the most oblivious Subterranean Dreadclaw could have sensed those three torrents of draconic might filled with rage, let alone a Dark Elf priestess skilled in charm.

It was said that nimble Halflings could hear the thoughts of others, but this talent of theirs was not worth mentioning in front of a Dark Elf priestess.

Sakhirtana could not only perceive the emotional changes in living beings but could also guide those changes, thereby completing the entire process from charm to enslavement.

However, yesterday she had been under the charm’s backlash, unable to control her emotions, and with the Son of the Sun’s protection, she had paid no mind to the dragonkin handmaidens’ emotional state. She had actually sought favor from the Son of the Sun right in front of them. This had clearly violated an unspoken taboo of the Underground City.

When Sakhirtana awoke, she couldn’t sense the Son of the Sun’s warm and gentle aura, but the tyrannical auras of the three dragonkin handmaidens were as conspicuous as a fire in the night. Mewen, Fugerui, and the other dragonkin handmaiden were roasting meat. Without the protection of the Son of the Sun, the Dark Elf priestess was in a panic. She was afraid that the dragonkin would take advantage of his absence, transform into Dragon Beasts, and devour her.

The animal hide cloak outlined the Dark Elf’s graceful curves, and her curled-up sleeping posture made her look as ignorant and harmless as a little rabbit. While feigning sleep, Sakhirtana used her Mental Link to sense her demon servants. After receiving mental feedback from the five of them, she quietly breathed a sigh of relief. The dragonkin handmaidens had not yet killed her demon servants, so it seemed she was safe for the time being.

Sakhirtana didn’t dare summon her demon servants near the camp, worried it would provoke the three dragonkin. She planned to order one of the demon servants to find the Son of the Sun; only he could protect her from the dragons’ claws.

Just as the Dark Elf was about to act, she heard the Son of the Sun’s pleasant voice from nearby, “Since you’re awake, get up and have something to eat.”

“My lord, you’re here! I thought…” Sakhirtana was overjoyed and leaped directly out from the crudely made animal hide cloak, completely oblivious to her state of undress. But when she saw Victor sitting by the campfire with the three impossibly beautiful dragonkin handmaidens at his side, she couldn’t voice the rest of her grievance.

It was mainly the Sun Elf’s pair of bright gold eyes. Yesterday, his gaze had been full of aggression and possessiveness, igniting her emotions in an instant. But now, his eyes held a lofty indifference beneath their calm. Sakhirtana clearly recognized the gap between herself and this Demigod, and the passion in her heart cooled considerably.

Victor had spent the entire night practicing the Golden Toad Mystic Form. Although his vigor recovered more slowly than when practicing the mythical three-headed lizard visualization, it spared him the side effect of churning desires.

Yesterday, Mewen and Fugerui had brought the physically and mentally exhausted Dark Elf priestess to him. It had been the perfect opportunity to interrogate her, but because Victor had just finished practicing the Poltanos Secret Art, his emotions were volatile. His own mind was racing with unruly thoughts, and it had caused the Dark Elf to be intensely charmed, making normal conversation impossible.

Having learned his lesson, Victor had paused his practice of the Poltanos Secret Art. He had not yet fully mastered his increased spiritual power; his eyes were bright gold rather than their usual dark gold. He couldn’t use abilities like Soul of Water Mist and Heart of Flame, but he had no problem controlling his own emotions.

“Come over and eat something,” Victor said, his expression impassive, inviting the Dark Elf to join them in a tone that was almost a command.

Startled and uncertain, Sakhirtana came back to her senses. She pulled her animal hide cloak tight and, with her slender feet bare, gracefully walked towards the campfire. Her straight, well-proportioned, fair calves were tantalizingly visible and then hidden beneath the cloak, letting one’s imagination run wild: what kind of beautiful body was hidden beneath this rugged, primitive hide?

This faint seduction was perfectly executed, hinting at a difference in power and conveying a signal of submission amidst the charm. In comparison, Victor’s several Silver Knight lovers were only fit to be students of the Dark Elf priestess.

Sakhirtana dared not get too close to the Son of the Sun. The three dragonkin handmaidens were all staring at her. Though they didn’t reveal their draconic vertical pupils, the threat was palpable.

She stopped at a distance that wouldn’t trigger the dragonkin handmaidens’ malice, knelt down, and sat on her heels. Facing Victor across the campfire, she appeared very reserved, as if the flirtatious display just moments ago had nothing to do with her.

Is the High Dark Elves’ charm an instinct? Sophia isn’t very fond of using her charm talent… Victor was lost in thought. He gestured for Fugerui, who was in charge of the roasting, to give a portion of the food to the Dark Elf priestess, and said to Dili, “Go and bring Lady Pale Moon’s armor and belongings.”

Sakhirtana raised no objection. She accepted the roasted meat from the dragonkin handmaiden with both hands and ate it in small, delicate bites.

After the Dark Elf finished her portion, Victor spoke, “Lady Pale Moon, allow me to introduce myself. I am a noble lord from the human kingdoms, the Gold-Eyed Earl of the Gambis Kingdom, His Highness Victor W. Randell. So, I am human, not an elf. Victor Nightingale was a pseudonym for my disguise. You may call me My lord Earl, or His Highness Randell.”

“Yes, Your esteemed and great Highness Randell.” Sakhirtana bowed her head, her long, elegant, pointed ears twitching slightly, as if to say, “I don’t believe a Sun Elf is human.”

Victor couldn’t be bothered to explain. He nodded and asked, “What happened after I left the temple?”

The Dark Elf priestess replied, “Princess Viel of Aylanta reached the top of the tower, but she did not find you. Because the domain of the Realm of All Spirits was receding slowly, combat professionals below high-rank still couldn’t leave the temple. We could only remain inside and wait for the domain to completely dissipate.”

She paused, her pupils contracting slightly, and continued, “On the third night, undead Gros Insectoids invaded the temple from underground. General Juknos of Aylanta and General Moonsong of Silverhawk City sensed the danger approaching ahead of time. The prophet Fire-Eye performed a divination ritual. He foresaw tens of thousands of ant-like monsters advancing on the temple through the network of tunnels beneath the Asoerta Mountains. They would converge with the undead Gros Insectoids, break into the temple, and kill everyone.”

“Left with no choice, the commanders allowed the high-rank combat professionals to leave the temple on their own. The mid-rank combat professionals could only jump into the Sacrificial Pit and try to find a way out through the underground dark river. Your Highness, your human servant Narsen could have passed through the domain of the Realm of All Spirits, but he chose to go with General Moonsong, leading the surviving mid-rank combat professionals down the Sacrificial Pit to seek a path to survival.”

“I was the first to leave the temple, so I don’t know what happened afterwards.”

Victor was silent for a moment before asking, “Besides my subordinate and Iluth Moonsong, did any other high-rank combat professionals jump into the Sacrificial Pit to find an escape route through the underground dark river?”

Sakhirtana shook her head and answered truthfully, “Your Highness, I come from the Underground Kingdom, and I know very well how treacherous an unfamiliar underground dark river can be. That’s why I advocated for the high-rank combat professionals to escape the danger as soon as possible, before the army of ant monsters could surround the temple.”

The Ant-man Empress’s swift reaction after the Black Blood Sovereign’s death, deploying her ant-man army to surround the temple, was all within Victor’s expectations.

The Ant-man Empress, whom the Azoretta Shaman called The Undying One, was at least a Demigod, and not a “newborn” one like the Black Blood Sovereign. Even if Victor were in perfect condition, he might not be able to defeat her, though it would be nearly impossible for the Ant-man Empress to eliminate him either.

Even the Raging Wind Sword Saint had fled at the first opportunity. The Elven Empire’s high-rank combat professionals were exhausted and in no condition to fight, so choosing to flee the danger was a normal reaction. Victor hadn’t expected that even Sakhirtana, who came from the Underground City, would be unwilling to take the underground river route. It showed just how perilous the environment below must be.

Narsen’s promotion to Gold rank meant he could have completely resisted the domain of the Realm of All Spirits and escaped the temple through the relatively safe Asoerta Mountains. But his character wouldn’t allow him to abandon his companions and flee alone. He had chosen to brave the underground dark river connected to the Sacrificial Pit with Klaus, Brandon, Red Wolf, and the others.

The Randell Expeditionary Force and the elven forces had suffered grievous losses in the battle for the temple. Nearly forty percent of the elven forces’ mid-rank professionals had died in the fighting, and the alchemical creatures in Narsen’s team were almost completely wiped out. The chances of the survivors who jumped into the Sacrificial Pit making it back to the surface were likely slim to none.

In a battle of this magnitude, sacrifices were inevitable. However, the Elven Empire was vast and could afford to lose a group of elite combat professionals. But if the trusted confidants and generals that Victor had painstakingly cultivated were all lost in that underground river, it would be a devastating blow to the House of Randell.

For now, Victor could only hope that the Greybeard Dwarf Prophet’s divination was accurate… At least, his previous few predictions had all come true.

Temporarily setting aside Narsen’s situation, Victor turned his thoughts to speculating about the Ant-man Empress’s next move.

The Asoerta Temple was actually an ancient Alchemy Tower, and its Rune Crystal was relatively well-preserved. By integrating with the tower’s Rune Crystal, the King had not only successfully restored the basic functions of Alchemy Tower No. 7 but had also added four new types of alchemical units, raising the Soul Fire limit to 173,250 units. Due to the urgency of the situation, Victor hadn’t had time to check the details of Alchemy Tower No. 7’s upgrade. In fact, since the four void elements gathered in balance at the Asoerta Temple, Victor could have begun producing alchemical creatures on top of the temple right then. It was for this very reason that the Ant-man Empress absolutely could not allow Victor to occupy the Asoerta Temple.

In other words, the Ant-man Empress was going to move her nest. The ant swarm’s main nest would be relocated into the Asoerta Temple.

Victor wasn’t sure what kind of effect the Asoerta Temple’s unique and advantageous elemental environment would have on the Ant-man Empress, but it was an indisputable fact that she would now come out of the shadows. Tactically, this gave Victor a certain advantage. However, it was also a fact that the Ant-man Empress coveted the Elemental Rune Crystal of Alchemy Tower No. 7; over 170,000 units of Soul Fire would help her expand the scale of her swarm.

The Ant-man Empress had originally wanted to breach the Asoerta people’s temple and absorb the Alchemy Tower’s Rune Crystal within. However, the Law of “Freya’s Tear”’s domain had prevented the ant swarm from approaching the temple. Now that the sacred object’s domain had failed, Victor estimated that the Ant-man Empress would inevitably send a War Ant King to hunt him down, because he was carrying the Elemental Rune Crystal of Alchemy Tower No. 7.

On the other hand, the crystal left behind by the Black Blood Sovereign might also be valuable to the Ant-man Empress. The suspicious thing was, Alchemy Tower No. 7 was in Victor’s hands, and the Black Blood Sovereign’s crystal had been brought out by the Dark Elf priestess. Why hadn’t Victor sensed any pursuit from the ant swarm yet?

Victor had the two dragonkin handmaidens clear away the campfire and roasted meat. He then asked the Dark Elf priestess kneeling opposite him, “The Elven Empire’s Shaman of the Moon Goddess just let you, all by yourself, leave the temple first?”

Sakhirtana maintained her posture with her head bowed, her voice soft as she explained, “Your Highness, I did not leave alone… I enslaved thirty-four of the temple’s Black Blood Demons. They originally couldn’t pass through the domain of the Realm of All Spirits, but I used a trick to transfer their soul strength and temporarily boost the soul strength of some of the demons. By the time I escaped the domain’s range, I only had five fourth-rank Black Blood Demons left.”

Victor hadn’t expected Sakhirtana to possess such an ability. His bright gold eyes flashed, and he said coldly, “Lady Pale Moon, you did not answer my question. Princess Viel of Aylanta let you go first alone because they believed you would become the target of the ant monsters… You stole something that belongs to me!”

Sakhirtana seemed prepared for this. She placed her hands on the ground and rested her full, smooth forehead on the back of them. This prostrate posture accentuated her slender waist and full, pert buttocks.

“Yes, I took your war trophy—the soul crystal of the demon lord… I, Sakhirtana Pale Moon, am willing to forsake Spiderfang City and offer my power and soul to Lord Nightingale. I beg you, My lord, to take me as your female slave.”

Victor was stunned. He hadn’t even begun to negotiate, and the Legendary-rank spellcaster had just knelt?

He rubbed his smooth chin, thinking, “Is this some kind of scheme or trick?”

Chapter 822: The Web of Fate

Over the next ten-odd days, Victor studied the Dark Elf priestess and her demon servant inside and out. Sakhirtana was exceptionally cooperative, complying with every one of Victor’s requests without the slightest resistance. Even for things that would be considered shameful by human standards, she would proactively demonstrate them one by one.

For example, she requested that Victor flog her with a tree branch, leaving startling welts on her pale skin. Yet, she could transform the pain of the whipping into pleasure.

This was not simply a masochistic personality, but a talent-honing technique that every High Dark Elf had to master—a way of twisting the mind and will.

Victor had once thought Sakhirtana’s willpower was weak, but this was a misconception. In fact, the High Dark Elves of the Underground City had a unique understanding of the mind and will that completely upended Victor’s established认知.

If the human understanding of willpower could be summarized as “weak” and “strong,” then the Dark Elves believed the mind and will were two sides of the same coin—they were open and ever-changing. No living creature could possess an indestructible mind and will; there would inevitably be moments of vulnerability, unless it was a thoughtless rock. Because thoughts are in a constant state of flux, the mind and will change along with them. And since the cause of changing thoughts is the passive reception of all kinds of information, the mind and will must also be open.

Being open and ever-changing meant one could manipulate or be manipulated.

Sakhirtana could make sweet taste bitter, cold feel hot, light become dark, and pain turn into pleasure… for herself, or for other creatures.

The beautiful and alluring Dark Elf priestess was a master at playing with the mind and will. His Highness Randell, the Mind’s Dominator, felt as though he had discovered a priceless treasure, regretting that they hadn’t met sooner. Their relationship warmed rapidly within just a few days.

Just as they were now, Victor and Sakhirtana walked hand in hand, shoulder to shoulder, through the vibrant forest. His voice was like a gentle spring breeze. “So, you can’t go back to the Underground City?”

“That’s right. I was already a failure in exile. If I fail this mission as well, it will be very difficult for me to survive in Spiderfang City.” Sakhirtana wrapped her left hand around Victor’s arm, tilting her head to gaze at his incomparably handsome face. Her eyes shimmered as she spoke with an intimate air, “Unless My lord gives me the soul crystal of the demon lord… but I only want to be My lord’s high-ranking female slave.”

Compared to the surface elves, Sakhirtana was not particularly tall, standing at only 1.72 meters. Her figure was slender and well-proportioned, yet she was curvaceous and buxom, exuding feminine charm. At this moment, she was clad in exquisitely crafted priestess armor that showcased her best features to the fullest. As she held Victor’s arm, she looked like a delicate bird nestling against him.

At first, she was very unaccustomed to holding hands and walking side-by-side with Victor. Strolling with a male’s arm in hers was something unheard of in the Underground City. However, she was a quick learner. In a matter of minutes, she had adapted to the way of walking popular in high society of the human kingdoms, even doing it better than the vast majority of noblewomen.

Victor had not taught her; he simply acted according to his own etiquette. But Sakhirtana had not only ignited the fire of the mind, but more importantly, she could grasp Victor’s intentions. With just a few micro-adjustments, she could match his movements, and her facial expressions were managed perfectly—every frown and every smile took Victor’s feelings into account.

Any other Knight-Noble would have praised Sakhirtana for being quick-witted and sharp as a tack. Victor, however, saw a deeper meaning in her performance—the telepathic link from the combat intuition talent of the Alchemical Soldiers; the mental telepathy of Patriarch Flidis’s twin guards; the Halfling adventurer’s shallow mind-reading; the Dragonkin handmaiden’s Mental Link. These were all forms of mental communication, and Sakhirtana’s pandering to him revealed the foundational common ground of all mental communication!

Victor deduced that Sakhirtana had dabbled in all the aforementioned forms of mental communication, and her skills were profound.

A soft touch on his arm, there and gone in an instant, made one anticipate the next ambiguous contact, a wish Victor would immediately see fulfilled. Sakhirtana was engaging with Victor in a unique and wonderful rhythm, an interaction that flowed from the physical to the mental.

“Are you trying to charm me?” Victor stopped and turned, his gaze falling askance upon the Dark Elf’s beautiful purple eyes.

“My lord, I’m very sorry. It’s an instinct for High Dark Elves. But I must explain, the mind is open and ever-changing. Communication is a two-way street. A failed charm results in a much stronger counter-charm… I was captured by My lord the moment I first saw you. You commanded me to rest, and I immediately fell asleep; you told me to cry, and I would feel sad…” Sakhirtana’s luscious red lips pouted slightly, as if she were airing a grievance, or perhaps asking for a kiss.

Victor smiled faintly. “If I were truly angry, you wouldn’t dare to act like this.”

Seeing those dark gold eyes that seemed like a vortex capable of swallowing her whole, the Dark Elf priestess felt a chill in her heart and said with a serious expression, “Yes, My lord. Your talent is unmatched in this world, and you learn with divine speed. Although you have only mastered the basics of charm, I believe even the Queen of Vengeance would be captured by you if she tried to use her charm in your presence.”

Sakhirtana came from Spiderfang City in the Underground Kingdom. She knew of sixty-five such underground cities, which together formed a great domain. Spiderfang City was the capital of this domain. Beyond it, there were other great domains in the underground world, though Sakhirtana had never been to those kingdoms in the Outer Realms.

The inhabitants of Spiderfang City were primarily composed of High Dark Elves, Subterranean Elves, Black Dwarves, and Cave Dwellers. High Dark Elves stood at the apex of society, followed by Black Dwarves, and then Subterranean Elves.

The Subterranean Elves were equivalent to the Wild Elves of the Elven Empire. Their male-to-female ratio was balanced, and their average lifespan was sixty-five years, only slightly longer than humans. In truth, Subterranean Elves were Dark Elves with a degraded bloodline. After countless years of procreation, they had formed a stable bloodline inheritance, and only a tiny fraction of them could ever ascend to become High Dark Elves.

As for the Cave Dwellers, Sakhirtana absolutely refused to acknowledge them as citizens of the Underground City. Those eyeless, humanoid monsters were a common slave race throughout the Underground Kingdom and could even be used as currency. Sakhirtana told Victor that the Cave Dwellers were actually transformed Black Blood Demons, with an intelligence equivalent to a ten-year-old Subterranean Elf.

However, the Cave Dwellers’ bloodline had stabilized, and they formed a massive population. As the most basic labor force, they were an indispensable part of Underground Kingdom society. For this reason, Victor categorized them as inhabitants of the Underground City.

Besides its racial structure, the Underground City also had a unique power structure, divided into Slaves, Craftsmen, Warriors, Clan Chiefs, Priestesses of the Spider Temple, then City Matrons, and finally, the Kingdom’s Queen.

In the final days of the distant Twilight Era, the Moon Goddess manifested as the Spider Lady, leading a great number of ancient elves and dwarves into the subterranean world to fight back the demonic invasion from the Abyss. She used her divine power to create Moonlight Fluorite, illuminating parts of the dark regions. With this, the ancient elves established their underground cities. To this day, any place without Moonlight Fluorite remains a Realm of Darkness where Dark Elves cannot survive or procreate.

The light created a living environment for the Dark Elves, but it also drew the attention of the demons from the Abyss. The Dark Elves didn’t need to leave their well-fortified cities; the demons would come to them, thus achieving the strategic goal of luring and eliminating them.

Due to the complex environment and difficult transportation in the subterranean world, combined with the constant harassment from the demons, the underground cities could only defeat them by “uniting as one.”

This “unity” was beyond Victor’s comprehension. The Spider Lady had woven a big net, the Mental Spiderweb, linking the mind power of all Her retainers together. She was at the center of this web, mobilizing her Lesser Retainers, who would then carry out the Lady’s will for war.

These Lesser Retainers held secondary authority over the Mental Spiderweb. They could not only mobilize their subordinates but also draw upon their spiritual power to cast terrifying sorceries.

As the world’s Laws tightened, the Spider Lady’s will fell completely silent by the Dark Age. The Lesser Retainers’ station in life was insufficient to replace the Lady at the center of the Mental Spiderweb. The Underground Kingdom experienced its first great schism, as the Lesser Retainers declared themselves Dark Elf Queens and carved out many independent domains.

It could be said that the Spider Lady had fulfilled Her mission; large-scale invasions from the Abyss into the subterranean world ceased. The underground cities were fully capable of handling sporadic demon incidents on their own. The Queens and Matrons, in their struggle for authority over the Mental Spiderweb, instigated prolonged civil wars between domains and between cities. Their struggles have continued to this day.

The Queen of Vengeance, Tricinavis Pale Moon, was a legendary figure in the Underground City whose story could fill a thick book. She was once a humble female Subterranean Elf, enslaved by the charm of a Warrior Chief. Step by step, she turned her fate around, secretly counter-charming the Warrior Chief and usurping her position. Then she counter-charmed the Matriarch, seizing control of a faction within the city. She later became a Dark Elf priestess and, after more than twenty years, successfully counter-charmed her Matron, commanding her to smile and commit suicide in front of all the High Dark Elves during a grand sacrificial ceremony.

Tricinavis led Spiderfang City on countless campaigns. She was invincible, defeating one underground city after another, enslaving all their Matrons. She established a great domain with Spiderfang City at its center, earning the right to worship the Sun Tree, and took the title Queen of Vengeance.

Unfortunately, in her later years, Tricinavis died in the very same way at the hands of her own granddaughter.

The tale of the Queen of Vengeance was by no means an isolated case in the Underground Kingdom. For authority over the Mental Spiderweb, the High Dark Elves charmed and counter-charmed, enslaved and counter-enslaved. Like spiders, they lurked in the shadows, spitting out spider silk to silently entangle the minds and wills of their enemies, drawing them into their own web.

Conspiracies, assassinations, and frame-ups were a daily occurrence in the Underground City. The Matrons would grow anxious if they didn’t hear about the endless scheming among their priestesses for a single day. They had to guard against even their own daughters, yet they also had to control the number of deaths, as this would weaken their authority over the Mental Spiderweb.

The political struggles in the Underground City were incredibly intense, yet not many High Dark Elves actually died.

Sakhirtana Pale Moon was a loser in this struggle. She was defeated by the Spiderfang Queen’s granddaughter and forced to abandon all her slaves, which was equivalent to severing her connection to the Mental Spiderweb. She came to the surface world alone to carry out a mission with faint hope—to collect the Law power of a demon lord.

If not for Victor, her mission would have already failed. The soul crystal left behind by the Black Blood Sovereign had given Sakhirtana a glimmer of hope for a comeback, but that was contingent on her getting it back from the Raging Wind Sword Saint.

This was even more difficult than killing the Black Blood Sovereign. Otherwise, why would the Moon Elf princess of Aylanta have asked Sakhirtana to retrieve that soul crystal?

Now, Sakhirtana, along with the soul crystal of the Black Blood Sovereign, had fallen into Victor’s hands.

In these past few days, Victor and Sakhirtana’s relationship had grown more intimate. He often took the purple-haired, purple-eyed Dark Elf for walks in the woods, sometimes they would embrace and kiss passionately, and occasionally he would caress her sensitive long ears. But their intimacy ended there.

Victor had never lacked for peerless beauties, but Sakhirtana was the most unique among them. She was stunningly beautiful and exceptionally dangerous, like a beautiful but venomous man-faced spider—the more beautiful the pattern, the stronger the poison.

Victor could ignore Sakhirtana’s beauty, but the danger the Dark Elf priestess posed made him wary, and also utterly fascinated him, because behind that danger, he saw a treasure trove.

Sakhirtana would always unconsciously use her charm talent on all living things around her, whether stronger or weaker than her; the only difference was the duration and the effect of the charm. She demonstrated for Victor by charming and enslaving a forest deer, easily incorporating it into her mental spiderweb. She used the Art of Suggestion to make the deer believe it was a carnivore, then the Art of Command to order it to attack a small pack of wild wolves. Finally, she used Sorcery to make the deer burn its soul and life potential, allowing it to overwhelm the small wolf pack head-on. But the deer itself had reached the end of its life.

In addition to that, Sakhirtana’s Sorcery also included Veil of Darkness, Spirit Transference, Mind Blast, Art of Forgetting, Death’s Rebuke, Demonic Transformation, and more. These sorceries were all suffused with the foul taste of evil curses, but their practical value was undeniable.

Victor was only deeply interested in the foundations of this Sorcery—the parts concerning charm and enslavement. He believed that with some modifications, the Dark Elves’ talents could be adapted to the needs of the Mind Warriors, and should be renamed Mind Shaping and Mind Communication.

Sakhirtana’s charm could be used on herself. She could suggest to herself that her senses were keener and her strength extraordinary, thereby stimulating her own potential to temporarily reach the peak state of her senses and strength, though it would be followed by side effects of varying degrees.

That’s right, it was somewhat similar to Victor’s Apocalypse and Soul Boil.

The difference was that Victor’s combat techniques and secret arts had fixed models. They were all-attribute enhancements that couldn’t be altered or adjusted, nor would they harm him. Sakhirtana’s self-charm was flexible and selective, which also brought uncertainty. For example, she could choose to temporarily enhance her vision, but the side effect was that after the enhancement ended, her vision would temporarily weaken, she might go blind, or even become permanently blind.

The wonderful thing was that the charm based on twisting the mind and will had common ground with Victor’s Mind Bloodline secret art.

The third-level Source Blood Secret Art was designed to improve the physical fitness and Spirit attribute of initial-rank Mind Warriors, including bone toughness, muscle sinewization, and strengthening of internal organs—all absolute enhancements. Sakhirtana’s charm could twist and deceive mind power to temporarily improve a certain ability, which was a relative enhancement.

The two were highly complementary.

If Victor could reduce the negative effects of self-charm to an acceptable range for Mind Warriors, it would be called Mind Shaping.

Imagine, before Source Power appeared, if mid-rank Mind Warriors mastered the techniques of Mind Shaping, that would also be a path to becoming high-rank Mind Warriors.

What Sakhirtana excelled at was charming others, a specialty that could help Victor cultivate mid-rank Mind Warriors.

Back then, Sylvia used her vast, ocean-like spiritual power to implant talent seeds in initial-rank Mind Warriors, which was, in fact, a method of mental suggestion, charm, and twisting. The only issue was that her spiritual power was too domineering; she forcefully buried the talent seeds in the Sourceblood Warriors’ minds. Those who couldn’t accept it would die from the collapse of their soul and body.

During the process where Victor and Sylvia created the Mind Warrior School, less than one in ten of the death-row inmates used in the experiments would survive. If Sakhirtana had presided over the Mind Warrior School experiments, it certainly wouldn’t have been so difficult.

Sylvia was ambitiously preparing to found the Serpent School, a venture Victor was not at all optimistic about. But now he believed that with a Dark Elf priestess as Sylvia’s assistant, the birth of the Serpent School was still possible.

All of Victor’s intimate gestures toward Sakhirtana were for the purpose of personally experiencing and recording her charm techniques.

Although it hadn’t been long, Victor had already made a breakthrough. He realized that the Sun Elf bloodline also included the talent for charm. To be precise, the Sun Elf was the Origin of the Dark Elf bloodline, and the so-called charm talent was just a small part of the Touch of the Mind. Victor’s Chilling Wind, Grasp of the Wind Djinn, and Wings of the Wind Sprite were all based on the powerful mind power of the Sun Elves.

In theory, he could learn all the charm and enslavement techniques of the Dark Elves. In reality, that was unlikely. Without the Mental Spiderweb, charm and enslavement couldn’t be connected to Sorcery, which made them of little use to Victor.

The Raging Wind Sword Saint already stood at the pinnacle of power. Who would he spend a great deal of time and vigor to charm? And with the dual identity of the Gold-Eyed Earl and the Alchemy Tower Master, Victor was not short on loyal followers.

However, with Narsen’s fate now uncertain, Victor was genuinely tempted by Sakhirtana’s offer of allegiance and was considering recruiting her. She could be a great asset in his subsequent actions.

Of course, there were some difficulties that needed to be resolved.

Sakhirtana was dangerous. She had no emotional needs, or rather, High Dark Elves believed that emotions could and must be shaped. Her current infatuation with Victor was real, but this reality only existed in the present moment. If time and circumstances changed, her emotional needs would change with them.

Humans were like that too. Lovers who made oaths of eternal love one day could turn against each other and become enemies the next; mortal enemies one day could be comrades fighting side-by-side the next. Examples like these were everywhere, because people’s thoughts and feelings are always changing. What doesn’t change isn’t a thought.

The Dark Elves took it to a further extreme. If charm failed, one would be counter-charmed; emotion was merely a tool they could use. Sakhirtana’s upbringing meant she was completely devoid of loyalty. If this fey creature with no moral compass went to the Randell Fief, she would one hundred percent make a move against Victor’s wives.

However, compared to the enormous benefits a High Dark Elf could bring, Sylvia would surely welcome Sakhirtana’s arrival. If Victor parted with his prize with a heavy heart and tossed her to the Spirit Knight for disciplining, it would solve most of the trouble. If Sakhirtana served as Sylvia’s handmaiden, she would remain in a perpetually enslaved state.

At this thought, Victor couldn’t help but smile, and his gaze toward Sakhirtana carried a trace of pity.

Sakhirtana asked uneasily, “My lord, did I do something wrong?”

Victor shook his head and said with a smile, ” Is the information that the demon lord’s crystal can help the Underground City transform a large batch of Black Blood Demon slaves true?”

Sakhirtana said earnestly, “My lord, I assure you that everything I’ve said is true.”

“Mm.” Victor nodded and said impassively, “In that case, the soul crystal is of little use to me, so it wouldn’t matter if I gave it to you. But I’m not willing to do that. I still have a powerful enemy to deal with here, and I need your strength. Therefore, I’ve decided to give the soul crystal of the Black Blood Sovereign to the Elven Empire in exchange for the soul contract the Spiderfang Queen uses to restrain you. From now on, you will be my high-ranking female slave. Oh, I’m used to calling them Combat Maids.”

Sakhirtana’s fine purple brows furrowed. In a soft and delicate voice, she said, “I am willing to serve you, my noble Master. But why would you give the soul crystal of the Black Blood Sovereign to the Elven Empire? With your great status, if you asked the Elven Empress for me to be your Combat Maid, Her Majesty the Empress Regnant and the Grand Matron of Spiderfang City would present my soul contract to you with both hands.” She thought for a moment, then added, “Master, it would be more in your interest to leave the soul crystal of the Black Blood Sovereign for your Combat Maid.”

Victor gazed deeply at Sakhirtana, raised a finger, and wagged it gently. “Baby, you’ve got one thing wrong…” he said with a smile. “I am a great lord of humanity, His Highness Randell, the Raging Wind Sword Saint, not a Sun Elf of the Elven Empire. Therefore, this is a transaction, understand?”

Sakhirtana bowed her head deeply and said in a respectful and docile tone, “I understand, Master. Sakhirtana is your Combat Maid, and I am very happy to stay by your side.”

Even the best swimmers can drown, and those who play with fire get burned. A Dark Elf priestess who relied on the talent of charm was more susceptible to the bloodline charm of a Sun Elf than any surface elf.

Victor was not a true Sun Elf, but what did that matter? He possessed the power of the Sun Elf bloodline, leaving Sakhirtana no room to resist him.

“Once I’ve dealt with my opponent here, I’ll take you back to the human kingdoms. You will also gradually lose your powers of Sorcery, so I feel it’s a pity for you.” Victor was in high spirits and offered a brief explanation, then changed the subject. “Perhaps this is a good thing… you might not know, but there are Dark Elf bloodlines in the human kingdoms as well. Ancient Dark Elves intermarried with high-ranked human Knights, and their noble bloodlines have been passed down to this day. One of my wives has the same purple eyes and purple hair as you… I’ll introduce you two when there’s a chance.”

Lost in thoughts of his family and lovers, Victor’s mood soared. Sakhirtana, infected by his emotions, asked with anticipation, “Then the child I have with Master, will she be a High Elf, or a High Dark Elf? Will you marry them to High-ranked Knights?”

“…Er.”

Victor was stunned for a moment and had to change the subject again. “Right, there’s something I find strange… Why did the Queen of Spiderfang City send you to Aylanta? And even negotiate terms with you? For a failure like you, isn’t the Grand Matron of the Underground City being a little too lenient?”

Sakhirtana smiled faintly and explained with a hint of pride, “Besides being a Dark Elf priestess, I am also a princess of the Viel royal family of Aylanta… My ancestor was that granddaughter of the Queen of Vengeance. She once served the previous generation’s Sun Elf in Aylanta, the great Emperor Draven Viel. Therefore, I also possess the noble bloodline of the Sun Elves. The Queen of Spiderfang is jealous of my talent, but she doesn’t dare to execute me without permission. Otherwise, Aylanta would sever all trade with Spiderfang City. So…”

Sakhirtana’s voice trailed off. In that moment, she found herself again, but there wasn’t the slightest sense of relief in her heart. Instead, she was filled with dread.

His Highness Randell’s eyes were as indifferent as a god’s. He had proactively terminated his charm on Sakhirtana, severing the faint link between them on the mental plane.

Chapter 823: Confidence

Victor watched the Dark Elf female before him with an indifferent gaze. A free and easy smile slowly blossomed on his handsome face, and he nodded. “I didn’t expect you to be a princess of Aylanta, bearing the bloodline of Her Majesty Draven Viel. Forgive my disrespect… How could a noble princess possibly be my Combat Maid? This matter ends here. Let’s just pretend it never happened.”

Sakhirtana didn’t know what had just happened, but her sharp female intuition told her that something precious was slipping away. She tried to win back the Son of the Sun’s favor, scrambling to explain, “My lord, we Dark Elves are different from the surface elves. A princess of the Aylanta royal family is merely an honorific title; they aren’t guaranteed to inherit the throne of the Empress Regnant. Only a Priestess of the Moon Goddess acknowledged by the Sun Tree can be crowned. And in our Underground City, we don’t even have the title of princess. As for the term ‘servant,’ it has many meanings. Some are slaves, representing tools and wealth; some are retainers, representing power and influence; and some are high-ranking attendants, representing status…”

“I know,” Victor said, cutting off Sakhirtana’s declaration. “The Black Blood Demons under your complete control are your slaves. They provide you with the spiritual power you need, and their emotions, their very lives, are subject to your every whim. The subordinates you’ve charmed are your retainers, but they are not entirely enslaved and possess their own will, capable of handling complex affairs for you. Then there is the relationship between a Dark Elf priestess and the mistress of an Underground City. You are attached to the mistress, but in truth, you are attached to the Mental Spiderweb she has built. A mistress’s control over her priestesses isn’t that deep; she needs them just as much to expand the reach of the Mental Spiderweb.”

Pausing here, Victor shook his head with a slight smile. “I have a Wizard under my command who possesses a form of Wizardry that appears similar to charm and enslavement. I won’t tell you the specific details, but his Wizardry cannot control sapient beings… The smarter and more meticulous a sapient being’s mind, the more difficult they are to control. This is a rule established by the Creator… Every thought that occurs in this world is a splintered thought of the Creator. In any single moment, how many thoughts can you produce? Only one! But the Creator possesses an infinite number of thoughts. Every sapient being in the world can be seen as an incarnation of the Creator. Thus, the soul of a sapient being is sacred. To completely and utterly enslave one is not just difficult—it is fundamentally impossible!”

The Dark Elf priestess sank to her knees, not even realizing she had done so, and muttered to herself, “So that’s how it is…”

Victor nodded. “If the Queen of Vengeance had been able to enslave her former mistress, why would she have needed to kill her? The Queen of Vengeance could use her charm talent combined with Sorcery to plant a seed of suggestion deep in her mistress’s mind, but that was the extent of her power. If she hadn’t killed her mistress quickly, she might have been killed herself. If the Queen of Spiderfang City could completely control you, why would she need to use the Sorcery of the Mental Spiderweb to form a soul contract with you?”

“As I see it, you Dark Elf priestesses open your minds to your mistress, accept her charm, and channel the power of the Mental Spiderweb to her, and in return, you receive higher authority within that same web. Most importantly, through this Mental Link, you spy on your mistress, learn from your mistress, and imitate your mistress, constantly improving your own abilities.” Victor’s expression turned cold as he stated flatly, “Until finally, you surpass her and replace her. This is the tradition of the Dark Elves.”

Completely and utterly convinced, Sakhirtana bowed her head. “My lord, I understand my heart’s desire now… By staying at your side, I will be sublimated. I crave your favor. If you do not trust me, if you worry that I will one day betray you, please use the soul crystal of the Black Blood Sovereign to secure my contract. That way, you and your servants can decide my life or death at any moment.”

This captivating Fey was not only amoral, but also a chameleon. Whatever her Master was, she would become. She even shamelessly admitted to the treacherous act of learning from and replacing someone. Of course, a Dark Elf female had no concept of shame to begin with.

Victor gave a derisive laugh. “A spider always captures prey smaller than itself. If a slightly larger beetle crashes into its web, the spider will be thrown into a panic, and the web it painstakingly wove might be torn apart in an instant… I’m not afraid of you replacing me, nor is it possible for you to become me. If you follow me, you will only become what I want you to be.”

“…What a pity.”

He lifted the Dark Elf priestess’s delicate chin, helping her to her feet, and said faintly, “I am not a High Elf of Aylanta, nor a Dark Elf of the Underground City. I only follow the traditions of the human kingdoms.”

He released the bewildered Sakhirtana and said with a serious expression, “Her Majesty Draven’s will has influenced the Elven Empire and the Underground Kingdom for thousands of years. You are Her descendant and hold the title of a princess of Aylanta’s royal family. You deserve my respect. The part of the world’s Law I just revealed to you was compensation for my offense to Princess Viel.”

Sakhirtana was at a total loss, unsure how to handle the situation. All she could do was gaze at Victor with a pitiful look and stammer, “My lord, you don’t have to treat me this way…”

Her charm techniques were now completely useless against Victor. Maintaining an elegant and proper noble smile, he said softly, “This is the etiquette commonly observed among human Nobles. Furthermore, you have imparted much valuable knowledge to me, so I shall offer something in return.”

“I will teach you a breathing and visualization method. If you persist in its practice, you can slowly enhance your physical constitution and spiritual strength. Although the improvement won’t be dramatic, practicing it daily will allow you to examine your own mental state… Also, the soul crystal of the Black Blood Sovereign is yours.”

Her long, pointed ears immediately perked up. Sakhirtana’s eyes lit up with joy as she exclaimed, “Noble and great Your Highness Randell, are you truly giving me the soul crystal of the Black Blood Sovereign? What price must I pay?”

Seeing that her hope of attaching herself to the Son of the Sun was lost, the Dark Elf female immediately began to scheme for the soul crystal. Before she could even come up with a good plan, Victor had offered it as a gift. Sakhirtana didn’t yet understand the concept of gratitude; she only thought about what she could trade the Demigod for the soul crystal. As for the breathing and visualization method Victor was about to teach her, she habitually assumed it contained some sinister trick and deliberately ignored it.

In truth, the Mind Bloodline secret art that Victor had tailor-made for Sakhirtana was, in a sense, more valuable than the soul crystal of the demon lord. It contained no insidious plots, though it was indeed an overt scheme.

Since this beautiful mermaid refused to take the bait, Victor had no choice but to shove both the bait and the hook into her mouth.

“As for the price… you must learn the breathing and visualization method before my guest arrives. Then, the soul crystal of the Black Blood Sovereign will belong to you.” Victor looked up at the pale blue sky and said meaningfully, “My guest may arrive in a day or two, so you’d better hurry up and learn.”

Learn, and there was a chance of survival; refuse, and it was a dead end. Sakhirtana had no choice but to diligently study the breathing and visualization method Victor imparted to her.

With the in-depth guidance of the Mind’s Dominator, she quickly grasped the essentials and discovered its immense value. For the next few days, Sakhirtana devoted herself completely to practicing the Mind Bloodline secret art.

On the evening of the third day, the guest Victor had been waiting for finally arrived. He walked with steady steps into the small camp hidden in the sea of trees, his presence as heavy as a moving mountain. His tall, burly frame made the surrounding trees seem short and thin by comparison.

“The Fourth General of the Elven Empire, Aylanta, Zuknos Greyflame, pays his respects to Lord Nightingale.” The guest’s deep voice spread throughout the nearby forest, yet it did not startle the timid birds or deer, as if his voice were a part of the forest itself.

Victor’s dark gold eyes reflected the giant Dwarf’s figure. After accepting the other’s bow, he returned a standard human noble’s salute and said solemnly, “You are a warrior worthy of Respect. It is my honor to meet you, General Zuknos Greyflame.”

“Ah, Lady Mewen, and Lady Fugerui are also here… Zuknos greets the three powerful Dragonkin ladies.” The giant Dwarf rumbled a greeting to the three Dragonkin handmaidens beside Victor. Perhaps feeling it was impolite to look down on Victor and the Dragonkin, he plopped down onto the ground, stretching out his two thick legs. His immense, oppressive body suddenly seemed simple, honest, and likable.

This giant Dwarf general left a deep impression on Victor. His strength was extraordinary, likely stronger than the Dragonkin handmaidens in their Dragon-form under normal conditions, though not to the point of crushing them. Using the red Dragonkin handmaiden Laila as a benchmark, Victor surmised that if the two went all out, victory or defeat would hang on a razor’s edge. However, if Zuknos activated the bloodline power of the Sons of the Hills, Laila in her Dragon-form would likely be no match for him.

If the Dragonkin handmaidens were all in their flying dragon forms, the tide of battle would likely turn. Of course, without the enhancement of “Freya’s Tear,” the handmaidens could not transform into eight or nine-meter-long flying dragons.

Without a doubt, Zuknos was one of the few top-tier powerhouses Victor had ever seen. Victor smiled and asked, “General Greyflame, why have you come to see me?”

The simple-looking giant Dwarf spoke with blunt honesty, “Prophet Fire-Eye performed a Divination, but Lord Nightingale’s station is too high. A direct divination of your whereabouts would have injured the Prophet. Princess Fiad Viel came up with a solution. She had Lady Pale Moon take the soul crystal of the Black Blood Sovereign, and Prophet Fire-Eye divined Lady Pale Moon’s location instead. He said that aside from me, no other combat professional would be able to see Lord Nightingale. So, I followed the direction from the divination and came looking.”

“Oh, right. This is the sacred weapon Lord Nightingale used to slay the Black Blood Sovereign.”

The giant Dwarf general opened his large hand, and the pitch-black “Umbra” lay in his palm.

The Dragonkin handmaiden Mewen stepped forward, took the short javelin forged from Saron Demon Iron from Zuknos’s hand, and returned it to her Master.

Victor toyed with his beloved extraordinary weapon and said flatly to Zuknos, “Thank you, Your Excellency, for returning my weapon, but you should understand my position. There is really nothing for us to discuss.”

“I knew it would be like this,” the giant Dwarf muttered, stroking his beard. “Lord Nightingale, I bring a few words from Princess Viel. Are you willing to hear her perspective?”

Victor stroked the Dragonoid Fugerui, who was pressing her head against his knee, and nodded with a semblance of nonchalance.

“Princess Viel asked me to ask you, are you truly not considering returning to Aylanta to become our Emperor?” the giant Dwarf asked in a low voice.

Victor shook his head with a smile. “Go to Aylanta? And then what? Live on the Sun Tree forever, becoming its Guardian? Even if I’d be high and mighty with greatly increased strength, I’m not willing to live that kind of life at the cost of my freedom.”

The Hill Dwarf asked again, “Lord Nightingale, how do you know you won’t like the Sun Tree? Do you truly believe you have freedom in the human kingdoms, or is it just because you’ve grown accustomed to the lifestyle of a human Noble? In truth, if you return to Aylanta, you can still go wherever you wish. Whether it’s the surface City-states or the Underground Kingdom, all the elves, Dwarves, Halflings, and Forest Centaurs will be your subjects.”

A glint flashed in Victor’s eyes. He gently pushed Fugerui away and said seriously, “An interesting question… Zuknos, let me ask you: you came from Aylanta to the distant Asoerta Mountains, which shows you can also go where you please. So, are you more willing to stay in Aylanta, or travel far and wide?”

The giant Dwarf thought for a moment and answered honestly, “I like staying in Aylanta. The great power of the Sun Tree makes me feel warm and comfortable.”

Victor laughed. “Exactly. Princess Viel points out that my subjects in the human kingdoms have influenced my habits and shackled my freedom. But the Sun Tree and the Elven Empire would influence me all the same. Since there’s no difference, why should I abandon my current habits, my convictions, and my emotions?”

Zuknos let out an “oh” and continued, “Princess Viel asked me to remind you, My Lord, to be wary of the punishment of the Force of Destiny. The Sun Tree will call to you, My lord, and shelter you. When you answer the Sun Tree’s call, you will gain a longer lifespan and a higher station in life.”

Victor laughed heartily and shook his head. “The weaknesses of great house politics are as prominent as their strengths. While new royal houses bring vitality to the ancient Empire, many precious Secret Histories are lost in the process… The Aylanta of today has forgotten the inheritance of the Empire’s forefathers. Do you know that Draven Wimbledon Baselius and I, Victor Wimbledon Randell, both came from the human kingdoms?”

The giant Dwarf’s eyes widened. He stared blankly at Victor and nodded. “I have heard some of these Secret Histories, but not clearly. Lord Nightingale, could you tell me about His Majesty Draven’s experiences in the human kingdoms?”

Victor shook his head. “That is a very long story, and I have no time to tell you about the special relationship between the Sun Elves and humans. As for His Majesty Draven’s heroic deeds as a human, you will learn of them in the future. Perhaps I will go to Aylanta one day, but not now. In fact, whether I remain in the human kingdoms or go to Aylanta makes no difference to the Elven Empire… Let our meeting today end here.”

The giant Dwarf quickly stood up and said, “Lord Nightingale, I have one last question… Princess Viel asked me to relay to you, My Lord, that the Son of the Sun should be attended by High Elves. Besides Sakhirtana, would Aylanta be permitted to send more Moon Elves to serve you, My Lord?”

“That is a mistaken idea, one that would create an irredeemable and terrible situation.”

With a faint smile, Victor turned his back on Zuknos and waved, walking with his three Dragonkin handmaidens into the depths of the forest. As the graceful shadows of the trees swallowed his and his Dragonkin maids’ figures, his voice drifted back clearly.

“Sakhirtana Pale Moon is practicing her breathing method not far ahead. I have given her the soul crystal of the Black Blood Sovereign. Take her with you back to Aylanta to report.”

Victor did not bid farewell to Sakhirtana. His intersection with Aylanta had, for the moment, reached a comma, but he was certain that the Elven Empire and the human kingdoms would re-forge their pact because of the third demon invasion.

However, this pact would fall far short of Victor’s hopes and expectations.

Synthesizing all the information he currently possessed, Victor had reached a startling conclusion: the Taelon World was devouring the Abyss, not the other way around with Abyssal demons invading the material world.

During the Twilight Era, the Ancient Behemoth, the King of the Spirit Realm, and His insectoid retainers were defeated by the Abyssal demons. But what about before that? Was the King of the Spirit Realm holding back the Abyssal demons, or was He, acting on the will of Creator Taelon Ruier, invading the Abyssal plane?

Both possibilities existed. But considering the first demon invasion during the Dark Age, when Abyssal demons colluded with the High Goblins and once had the ancient Elven Empire suffering repeated defeats, something incredible happened. The Dragons of the Abyss betrayed the demons and joined the Elven Empire’s faction. Then, the demon prince Donar defected to the Gods of the Sanctuary, taking the title Sky Spirit Donar to liberate the Barbarian slaves, thereby completely turning the tide of war.

Why did the Abyssal Dragons and the demon prince flee from the Abyss?

The specific details were lost to time, but they were certainly no fools. The only explanation was that the Abyssal Serpent was at an absolute disadvantage in its struggle against Taelon Ruier.

The second demon invasion occurred during the middle period of the Alchemical Empire. The ancient Alchemists and Archmages united with the Elven Empire and the Barbarians to repel the demons, driving them back to their Abyssal nests. The Alchemists of the Secret Order repeatedly stated in their memory crystals that demons had invaded the human kingdoms, yet they were planning a counter-invasion of the Abyssal plane to solve the demon threat once and for all.

Could such thoughts belong to the weak?

The thoughts of the Secret Order’s Alchemists were the splintered will of the Creator Taelon Ruier. When the will to counter-invade the Abyss coalesced, the Alchemists of the Secret Order immediately set their plans into motion.

Victor had also discovered another crucial detail. Sakhirtana had told him that Spiderfang City used the soul crystals of demon lords to control a large number of Black Blood Demons that entered the underworld, transforming them into a slave legion for the city. The troglodytes were also a sapient underground race created from a transformation of Black Blood Demons. If one ignored the details and looked only at the result, it wasn’t hard to see that the troglodytes were further proof of Abyssal demons defecting to the Taelon World. Regardless of whether they were a sapient race enslaved and transformed by the Dark Elves, the Law of Creation of Taelon Ruier had already accepted them.

The Dark Elf mistresses in every domain of the Underground Kingdom were still doing the same thing. They enslaved and tamed the demons that wandered into the underworld, much like humans domesticating aberrant war beasts. The mistress of nearly every Underground City had bizarrely shaped demon slave enforcers.

The souls of sapient races were sacred; a Dark Elf priestess could not completely enslave a sapient being of the material world. But Abyssal demons were different. Their souls were not protected by the Law of the world, making it easy for Dark Elves to enslave them and incorporate them into their own Mental Spiderweb. The extraordinary power of the Mental Spiderweb dictated the social structure of the Underground Cities. In order to gain higher authority within the web, the mistresses looked upon Black Blood Demons as Dragons look upon treasure. Any mistress who was not proactive would be replaced by her subordinate priestesses, so they could not afford to be complacent. They had to actively enslave, control, and transform the Black Blood Demons. Even if they were selfish by nature and their methods evil, the results aligned with the will of Taelon Ruier.

Based on all these signs, Victor concluded that the Taelon World was eroding the Abyss.

For the life on the world’s surface, the collision of the two planes seemed to make little difference. The third invasion of the Abyssal demons was now a certainty. However, the situation where Abyssal demons were collectively fleeing a shattering Abyssal plane to integrate into the Taelon World had different implications for the Elven Empire and the human kingdoms.

Humans were a primordial being, but elves, Dwarves, Halflings, and Forest Centaurs were not.

Once the Abyssal demons fled to the material world, they would either evolve into beasts or into sapient species to adapt to the Law of the world. They would, of course, be keenly interested in the primordial humans.

Because primordial beings were the very starting point from which the Creator fashioned all forms of sapient life.

Looking back at the relationship between the Elven Empire and the human kingdoms, they had cooperated, but they also competed. The rise of the Alchemical Empire, in particular, had once suppressed the world’s most ancient elven civilization.

Victor guessed that since the Elven Empire had the Sun Tree, the ancient alchemists had created a Lord of Radiance. The Spirit Knights of the Alchemical Council, disregarding the feelings of their elven allies, had insisted on creating a guardian deity for humanity. They must have foreseen that during the third demon invasion, humanity could only rely on its own strength to survive the disaster; their elven allies could not be counted on.

And that was likely the truth. The Elven Empire had relocated the Forest Centaurs and the Mountain Dwarves of the Arreat Plateau. They were making a strategic contraction, preparing not to get involved in the war between humans and demons.

Victor couldn’t blame the elves. The reason was simple: if humans couldn’t win against the demons, they could flee. How could the elves flee? The Sun Tree didn’t have legs… If the Elven Empire helped humanity resist the demon invasion and won, they would suffer heavy losses. If they lost, humans could pack up and move elsewhere, but what would the Elven Empire do?

Watching the fire from the other side of the river was the Elven Empire’s grand strategy. Even if Victor became the Emperor of the Elven Empire, he could not change it. On the contrary, the Sun Elf would surely stand on the side of the elves, becoming the Empire’s mightiest Guardian. Within the domain of the Sun Tree, He would be a nearly invincible existence.

Therefore, when Princess Viel said that Victor’s refusal to return to Aylanta would bring the punishment of the Force of Destiny, she meant that by remaining in the human kingdoms, he would be facing the brunt of the Abyssal demon onslaught directly.

That was why Victor had said that whether he went to Aylanta to be the Guardian of the Sun Tree or remained a great lord of humanity to fight the Abyssal demons made very little difference to the Elven Empire.

The Elven Empire would re-establish diplomatic relations with the human kingdoms, but not in the way Victor hoped—by directly joining the war. At most, they would provide limited support through trade.

Princess Viel had sent Sakhirtana to Victor’s side and wanted to send more High Moon Elf handmaidens to him. This was certainly to facilitate contact with the Son of the Sun and to re-establish diplomatic ties with the human kingdoms.

Unfortunately, anyone could represent the human kingdoms and establish relations with the Elven Empire—anyone except Victor.

The Elven Empire of today had likely forgotten the terrifying will of the Spirit Knights. Sylvia would just give Victor’s Moon Elf handmaidens to her High-ranked Knights as spouses, which would inevitably trigger a diplomatic disaster between the elves and humans.

Sylvia wasn’t the least bit afraid of a demon invasion. She had told Victor long ago: fight if you can win, flee if you can’t. The world is vast; where can’t one build a new home?

Victor, on the other hand, was worried that before Sylvia’s Annihilation, the sovereigns of the Abyss wouldn’t even dare to invade the human kingdoms.

Atop the ancient trees, Victor gazed at the departing figures of the giant Dwarf and Sakhirtana, the corners of his mouth curling into a confident arc. He had planted two seeds in the Elven Empire; how much of a role they would play in the future remained to be seen. But Victor, as the Mind’s Dominator, had already begun to actively plan for the war against the Abyssal demons.

“How can one flee without a fight?… Next up, the successor of the Alchemical Empire. Let me seize the power of the Ant-man Empress!”

Victor slowly placed the Soul Mask of the Four Seasons Wizard King in his hand onto his face.

Chapter 824: Riddles to be Solved (Part 1)

It was a wondrous experience for Victor to enter the Azoretta people’s Realm of All Spirits with his consciousness. It felt like a dreamscape, yet its sense of time possessed the same logic as the real world. The space was also clear enough; at the very least, the sense of up, down, left, right, north, south, east, and west was not absurd. It was as if it were a real world.

However, the Realm of All Spirits that Victor saw was a small, fragmented world on the verge of destruction. It wasn’t quite “seeing,” either. Victor currently had no physical form; he felt as if he had merged with the wind of this small plane, perceiving the surrounding scenery from a god’s-eye view.

She was desolate and dilapidated, devoid of life, her primary tone a gloomy gray. A boundless desert and giant, weathered rocks formed a bleak landscape.

Victor discovered many pitch-black, lightless abyssal rifts in the gray desert. They were of all sizes and widely distributed. Large chunks of sand and rock at the edges of the rifts would collapse from time to time, falling into the abyss and expanding the rifts’ scale. The term “apocalyptic world” couldn’t help but surface in his mind.

After a period of wandering and calculation, Victor estimated that this small soul plane was still over a thousand years from complete destruction, assuming the Azoretta people did nothing to repair her. But the reality was just the opposite; the Azoretta people were working hard to restore their Realm of All Spirits.

In the desert, Victor “saw” the Asoerta Temple within the Realm of All Spirits. It was in ruins, almost leveled to the ground, with giant stones scattered everywhere. Not a single decent wall remained. Amidst the temple’s rubble, several thousand “people” were bustling about. They were stark naked, with fine snake scales on their elbows and cheeks, and their muscles were lean and strong. They easily lifted massive stone blocks, carrying them to the center of the temple ruins to build a high platform.

Atop the high platform stood an Assyrian Shaman wearing a feathered crown. He was a full six meters tall, with only a drab, feathered skirt fastened around his hips. His bronze skin was covered in strange patterns, like tattoos branded with a red-hot iron. When the Azoretta laborers carried the broken stone bricks up to the platform, the Assyrian Shaman would point a finger, and the stones would automatically turn into sand. A cyclone would then sweep up the sand, which, like a giant python made of sand, would fly to a certain position and transform back into a complete, massive stone block.

The Shaman and the laborers worked in coordination, rapidly expanding a complex of buildings with Azoretta-style architecture upon the temple ruins, resembling an open-air sacrificial site.

With a thought, Victor manifested a form in the air, roughly as tall as the Assyrian Shaman, and appeared at the top of the platform. He glanced around at the Azoretta people, who looked like ants, and asked curiously, “Are these all Assyrian ghosts? Did the Assyrian remnants recently hold a cruel and evil Blood Sacrifice?”

The Assyrian Shaman ignored Victor’s sudden appearance and continued with his work. After a moment, he replied, “The Blood Sacrifice is a sacred celebration for us Assyrians. It is you outsiders who are the evil and cruel monsters.”

Victor jutted his chin toward the impassive Assyrian laborers and said indifferently, “You call these mindless soul puppets sacred?”

The Assyrian Shaman’s voice was deep and filled with reminiscence. “The Realm of All Spirits was once a place of mountains and forests, as beautiful and bountiful as Mount Asoerta itself. After death, we Assyrians, whether we were slaves used in a Blood Sacrifice or residents of the Empire, would be reborn in the Realm of All Spirits. Their spirits possessed the best bodies they had in life, with unchanging memories and emotions, and they would reunite with the spirits of their departed loved ones here. This sacred land, protected by All Spirits, knew no sickness and no pain. It was the common paradise of the Assyrian people. And it was you, you outsiders, you monsters, who destroyed our sacred land… Look at her now. This is all your doing!”

Victor pursed his lips and said dismissively, “You’re lying.”

“I have no need to lie. I am now the sovereign of the Realm of All Spirits. Destroying you would be simpler than crushing an ant. You are not worthy of being deceived by my lies,” the Shaman said, lifting his head proudly.

Victor clasped his hands behind his back and nodded. “You do indeed hold the supreme authority of the Realm of All Spirits now, but your so-called ability to destroy me is utter nonsense. Only a sliver of my consciousness has entered the Realm of All Spirits. The Origin of my consciousness is in my soul, and the Origin of my soul is in the Elemental Sea of Wind. Even the Realm of All Spirits in its prime could not have dragged my soul here and turned my body into an Undead Creature. By what right do you think you can destroy me?”

“And look at this small soul plane. Although it is in ruins, presenting an apocalyptic scene, the laws of matter, energy, space, and time that constitute it are still stable… Since time flows here, how could there be unfading memories? How could there be an unchanging Will Side? I conclude that these ghosts will eventually fade away. Therefore, your claim that Assyrian spirits have unchanging memories and emotions in this plane is a lie… a lie intended to deceive the Assyrians.”

The Shaman finally turned to face Victor, his expression surprised. “As expected of the demigod powerhouse who killed the Black Blood Sovereign. Your knowledge and insight into the laws of the world are novel even to me.” He paused, his expression gradually turning grim. “I may not be able to destroy you, but it would be very easy for me to expel you.”

Victor shook his head and laughed. “If you were going to expel me, you wouldn’t have let me in… I can see that my friend caused severe damage to the Realm of All Spirits, and I myself ruined over fifteen hundred years of your planning. Yet you still opened the gates of the Realm of All Spirits for me. Is there something you need from me?”

The Assyrian Shaman remained silent for a long time, his expression shifting between resentment and sorrow, before he finally let out a long sigh. “That winged powerhouse did indeed destroy the central temple of the Realm of All Spirits and drove the Black Blood Sovereign’s soul-body out of this sacred land. You also laid to waste our plans and all the sacrifices made for them, but the damage you both caused is far less than that of those evil-doers from fifteen hundred years ago. They are the main culprits behind the decline of the Realm of All Spirits.”

Victor also turned to face the Assyrian Shaman and said, “Before you entreat my help, I have a question you must answer first. Who is The Lord of Sorrow in the Realm of All Spirits?”

The Assyrian Shaman was taken aback. He frowned and thought for a long while before shaking his head. “There is no Lord of Sorrow in the Realm of All Spirits.”

In the Underground Tunnel of the temple, The Lord of Sorrow had told Imoson the Wizard through the soul of an Undead Creature that She was the Despair Wizard King from over fifteen hundred years ago, and that She was ready to replace the Black Blood Sovereign and take over the Realm of All Spirits. She claimed that the Black Blood Sovereign’s main body was in the Realm of All Spirits, and only by leaving the Realm could it be killed. The Lord of Sorrow also provided Imoson with the method to open the Realm of All Spirits—the four crystallized skulls of the Wizard Kings.

Victor had Dayne use a dwarven guard to create a sacred beacon. The will of the God-favored, Miller, descended upon the Realm of All Spirits through that beacon, destroying the central temple within and forcing the Black Blood Sovereign’s soul-body out of the Realm.

Only then was Victor able to exploit the weakness of the perfect body and slay it.

However, The Lord of Sorrow’s account to Imoson did not align with Victor’s logical deduction. The flaw in Her story was that the plan of the successive Assyrian Shamans to reclaim control of the Realm of All Spirits must have included controlling the Black Blood Sovereign’s perfect body. Otherwise, if that mentally chaotic monster escaped the Realm, the remnants of the Assyrian Empire would very likely be slaughtered to the last one.

If all the descendants of the Assyrian Empire died out, the Realm of All Spirits would be finished along with them. The Assyrian Shaman would never dare to risk the continuation of his people.

Subsequently, the appearance of the Pale Sovereign confirmed Victor’s judgment. The Wizard Kings’ Soul Masks, transformed from the four Crystal Skulls, replaced the Black Blood Sovereign’s Will Side. The ghosts of the Assyrian Wizard Kings successfully took control of the Black blood Sovereign, and by combining their magical powers, they brought about the birth of the Pale Sovereign from the Black Blood Sovereign’s body.

Originally, the descendants of the Assyrian Empire were supposed to help the Black Blood Sovereign shape its perfect body by feeding it. As the perfect body neared completion, the Black Blood Sovereign would have voluntarily left the Realm of All Spirits. Then, the descendants of the Assyrian Empire would have gathered their forces to attack the mentally confused Black Blood Sovereign, forcing it to use the Law of Creation from the temple’s Alchemy Tower to change the Wizard King’s Crystal Skulls into Soul Masks. In the end, it would have merged with the soulful will of the Four Seasons Wizard King, becoming the new god of the Yasurta Empire—the Pale Sovereign, possessing a perfect body and control of the Realm of All Spirits.

The combat professionals from the Elven Empire and the Randell Expeditionary Force in the temple had executed this plan in place of the Assyrian remnants, but several hundred years ahead of schedule.

The Azoretta people’s ambitious plan had fallen at the final hurdle. The Four Seasons Wizard King surely hated Victor, the main culprit, to the bone. But things had already come to this, and their enemy’s power was too great. No matter how unwilling the Assyrian Shaman was, he had to endure it. In any case, he had at least regained a broken and tattered version of the Realm of All Spirits—Father Miller’s destruction of the realm was far more severe than Victor had imagined. The destruction of the central temple had shaken the very foundation of the Realm of All Spirits, and numerous void rifts had appeared in the gray desert—a sign that the real world’s Elemental Sea was absorbing the Realm.

In truth, Victor had been wronged. Old man Miller was the true mastermind behind the eradication of the Black Blood Sovereign. Cornered, the Assyrians had lost their minds, naively thinking they could control the Black Blood Sovereign, unaware that with its perfect body, it would have sooner or later turned on the Assyrian Wizard Kings, as the difference in their levels of life was too vast. Because primordial humans naturally attracted Black Blood Demons, and coupled with the Assyrian Shaman’s hatred for the Radiant Church, the God-favored Miller was bound to completely eliminate this unstable factor.

Besides Miller, there was another existence who was extremely wary of the Assyrian Shaman’s god-creating plan.

The true identity of The Lord of Sorrow was now clear. She was none other than Victor’s current number one adversary—The Undying One, the Ant-man Empress.

In the battle at the temple, the Black Blood Sovereign was the only loser; all other participants had gained something. The Elven Empire recovered “Freya’s Tear,” obtained the soul crystal of the demon lord, learned the identity of the Son of the Sun, and even had a face-to-face conversation with Victor. The Assyrian Shamans’ generational plan had failed, but they had at last reclaimed authority over the Realm of All Spirits. The Ant-man Empress’s primary will had also escaped its cage within the Realm. Old man Miller had resolved the worry weighing on his mind, perfectly achieving his intended goal.

Although Victor had repaired and upgraded Alchemy Tower Number Seven and learned invaluable knowledge from Sakhirtana, expanding his knowledge jigsaw puzzle, his main objective for this trip was still unfulfilled, unlike old man Miller. And now that old man had just dusted his hands and run off, a thought that made Victor gnash his teeth in frustration.

The Black Blood Sovereign had been killed by the Raging Wind Sword Saint. Old man Miller had merely chased it out of its lair.

However, the human kingdoms’ strongest Spirit Priest had ultimately not completely destroyed this heretical divine kingdom. If Miller had destroyed the Realm of All Spirits, Victor would have had to return to the human kingdoms and fight him to the death.

The Realm of All Spirits held the clue to dealing with the Ant-man Empress.

Victor was not in a hurry to ask the Wizard King sovereign of the Realm of All Spirits about the Ant-man Empress’s secrets. He asked casually, “How should I address you? Pale Sovereign, or the former Despair Wizard King?”

The Assyrian Shaman said expressionlessly, “I am the incarnation of All Spirits and All Hallows. I am no longer that Despair Wizard King from over fifteen hundred years ago. You may call me Pale Sovereign, or you may call me the Wizard King of All Spirits.”

Victor’s tone was light as he said, “Your names aren’t that great. I think King of the Dead suits you better.”

The Assyrian Shaman said stubbornly, “It is Pale Sovereign… or Wizard King of All Spirits.”

Victor shrugged nonchalantly and nodded. “Suit yourself… Well then, Wizard King, you may begin your plea.”

The soul in the form of the Shaman had sufficient patience. He ignored Victor’s mockery and said seriously, “Outsider demigod, throw the Wizard King’s Soul Mask in your possession to that giant ooze monster in the forest on the eastern side of Mount Asoerta. You should have seen it.”

“Just as I expected…”

Victor smiled and nodded, then changed the subject. “Wizard King, first tell me how the Realm of All Spirits was formed. If I am satisfied with what I hear, I will then consider whether to grant your request.”

Chapter 825: Unsolved Mysteries (Part 2)

The Wizard King’s Soul Mask was arguably the most important sacred weapon of the Azoretta people. It allowed the Pale Sovereign’s will to be projected into the real world through a host, effectively creating a walking avatar. Even if the avatar died, the Pale Sovereign, whose Origin lay in the Realm of All Spirits, would not perish. For instance, the Black Blood Sovereign’s perfect body could serve as a host for the Pale Sovereign, and the Colossal Slime Behemoth in the Forest of Despair, being a pan-conscious collective, could also serve as her walking avatar.

Now that Victor had seized the Wizard King’s Soul Mask, the Pale Sovereign would have to pay a hefty price if she wanted to reclaim this sacred weapon from his hands.

Victor wanted to understand the origin of the Realm of All Spirits, and the Pale Sovereign had to give him an answer, even if she had to make one up.

The Pale Sovereign, in the form of an Assyrian Shaman, stared motionlessly at Victor, as if she had turned into a stone statue. After a long while, Victor grew impatient. He looked her up and down and asked in surprise, “Don’t tell me you can’t remember?”

The white flame in her eye sockets flickered. The Pale Sovereign said expressionlessly, “You yourself said that memories fade with the passage of time. Isn’t it normal that I can’t find the memory of the Realm of All Spirits’ origin?”

The two of them stared at each other on the high platform. A gust of wind blew past, and Victor couldn’t help but mock, “Just how many memories of Assyrian Shamans are there in your Will Side?”

The Pale Sovereign’s thoughts seemed to drift as she replied, “Many, many… It will take me some time to find the answer you seek.”

“But I don’t have that much time to wait for you to sift through the memories of generations of Shaman ghosts.” Victor shook his head and asked instead, “Just tell me, can you still remember the disaster from over fifteen hundred years ago?”

The Pale Sovereign paused again for a moment before saying with a strained expression, “I can only remember a little… The memory isn’t very clear.”

Victor waved his hand and said decisively, “I understand. You’re not even fifteen hundred years old. You don’t know the ancient history of the Assyrian Empire at all. Don’t waste your energy trying to recall. Let me ask you, did the Realm of All Spirits used to look the same as the Asoerta Mountains?”

The Pale Sovereign’s mind seemed foggy. She nodded blankly.

Not giving her any more time to think, Victor fired off one question after another. “Are the borders of the Realm of All Spirits void rifts, like the dark Abyss?”

“Yes.”

“Have the borders shrunk a lot now?”

“Yes, they’ve shrunk a lot.”

“The ghosts of the Assyrian subjects perish in the Realm of All Spirits, and their residual soul power is absorbed by you. You use the images of the outside world from their memories to repair and expand the Realm of All Spirits?”

“Yes…”

“When the Black Blood Sovereign awoke, did He draw too much soul power from the Realm of All Spirits, causing its forests, mountains, and lakes to all turn into desert?”

“I… need to think.”

“Don’t think!” Victor shouted, his eyes burning as he stared at the Pale Sovereign. His voice was deafening as he asked, “What is The Undying One’s true name?!”

The flame in the Pale Sovereign’s eye sockets stopped flickering and shrank into a ball. Victor’s incessant questioning had thrown her thoughts into disarray, and her capacity for logical thought finally seized up completely.

In the Taelon World, a soul was composed of a Soul Fire and a Will Side. The Soul Fire was the energy that drove the Will Side’s operation, allowing it to interact with the outside world and generate ever-changing cognition, memories, emotions, and other content. The initial state of the Will Side was The Path set by the Creator—the three major instincts of intelligent life: survival, procreation, and thought. Highly intelligent beings also had an aesthetic instinct. A Will Side in this initial state was very “light,” and the Soul Fire could easily drive it. But if the Will Side contained too much, the Soul Fire would be overburdened and begin to waver, or even be extinguished completely.

Victor’s Soul Fire was astonishingly strong, but his Will Side was equally vast, his mind filled with precious knowledge that ordinary people could never obtain. However, the Chief Wizard of Aerie Fortress had once used Wizardry to observe Victor’s physical and mental state at the time and concluded that his lifespan was only two hundred years, shorter than that of an ordinary High Moon Elf. This was because Victor’s Will Side was too powerful—a curse brought by knowledge, in a sense.

No matter how strong a Soul Fire was, it would one day be extinguished. The soul fire units bound within Alchemy Towers were claimed to be immortal. But Victor had collected the Rune Crystals of three Alchemy Towers, and the soul fire units within all showed varying degrees of degradation. The so-called “eternal and indestructible” was just an exaggeration.

The only path to eternity in the Taelon World was through pan-consciousness. Creator Taelon Ruier had fragmented his own will, creating an endless variety of creatures and intelligent beings. All that they saw, heard, and thought were Taelon Ruier’s own thoughts. When a life ended, new descendants were born. Countless Soul Fires were extinguished and born anew, forming an eternal existence linked to the world itself.

Of course, Taelon Ruier was just Victor’s personification of the Law of Creation. He might have once had a main consciousness, but as the process of pan-consciousness unfolded, He no longer existed. The eternity of pan-consciousness was meaningless to sentient species with emotions. Accepting death was the most important cognitive step for intelligent life.

If this was true even for Creator Taelon Ruier, what more for a weak pseudo-god like the Pale Sovereign?

Mortals cannot imagine or remember things that do not exist in reality. The scenery of the Realm of All Spirits was derived entirely from the memories within the Will Sides of the Azoretta people. Its strong resemblance to the Asoerta Mountains meant that the Realm of All Spirits subsisted on the souls of the Azoretta people.

The Black Blood Sovereign and the Pale Sovereign, as incarnations of the Realm of All Spirits, were no exception; they fed on the souls of the Azoretta people.

Drawing a parallel with the Colossal Slime Behemoth, Victor judged that its continued existence was also fueled by the Soul Fire of the Azoretta people, like constantly adding firewood to keep a bonfire burning. Once the firewood stopped, the bonfire would naturally go out.

The Pale Sovereign and the Realm of All Spirits used the same method to sustain their existence, but it was by no means eternal.

Father Miller had once warned Victor with the utmost gravity that the more powerful one became, the more crucial it was to maintain one’s sense of self. The Pale Sovereign, however, had absorbed too much soul power. The memories from the Will Sides of the Assyrians caused her soul’s operations to become sluggish, leading to a chaotic main consciousness. Her emotional cognition was also constantly changing with the addition of new memories. The original Four Seasons Wizard King was, in fact, long dead.

Victor was simply bullying her for being dull-witted, trying to dig up a world-shaking secret through a series of Questions and Answers.

The conditions for the formation of the Realm of All Spirits were extremely strict. First, the ancient Elven Empire had provided the alchemists of the Secret Order with a portion of the King of the Spirit Realm’s soul principles, which served as the foundational Law of the Realm of All Spirits plane. The information Victor possessed indicated that the King of the Spirit Realm was an incredibly powerful Ancient God, capable of even carving out soul planes. It took the combined efforts of many Ancient Behemoths to defeat Him.

Victor was not at all surprised that the King of the Spirit Realm possessed a portion of the Law of Creation.

The second condition was that the central temple of the Realm of All Spirits had to be built on a place where void elements converged in balance. It used the Asoerta Temple as its coordinate, and the temple itself was also an Alchemy Tower!

Victor had never understood where the resources and wealth sacrificed to the Alchemy Towers went. Comparing it with the situation in the Realm of All Spirits, he finally had a spark of inspiration.

The Assyrian Empire used Blood Sacrifice, using the souls of the Assyrians to maintain and expand the Realm of All Spirits. The scenery within this small plane was derived from the memories of the Assyrians, mimicking the landscape of the Asoerta Mountains, forests, and the temple.

If the temple’s Alchemy Tower and the temple in the Realm of All Spirits were seen as a coordinate connecting the material world and the soul plane, did that mean every Alchemy Tower led to one or more planes? Were the material wealth and resources sacrificed through the Alchemy Towers becoming “food” to sustain that plane?

The Alchemical Empire’s void creation technology was not related to the ancient Elven Empire, but pointed towards the most enigmatic of beings—the Gods of the Sanctuary.

Victor’s knowledge jigsaw puzzle had very few pieces concerning the Gods of the Sanctuary. One piece was the Eternal War mentioned by the Bear-monster Elder, where it was suspected that some Ancient Behemoths, unwilling to walk the path of pan-consciousness, hunted other Ancient Behemoths to seize their law-based powers and thus achieve immortality. The second piece was that Sky Spirit Donar, worshipped by the Barbarians, had betrayed the Abyss and seemed to have defected to the Gods of the Sanctuary. The third piece, from the memory crystal of the Secret Order alchemist, mentioned the Bird of Light of the Gods of the Sanctuary, and how the Gods had used the Soul Fire of a demon sovereign to help human Elementalists create Alchemy Towers.

Now, the demons of the Abyss were on the verge of appearing, yet the Gods of the Sanctuary remained shrouded in mist. Victor had asked the Dwarf Prophet and Sakhirtana about the mythology and history of the Elven Empire and the Underground City, but neither contained any mention of the sanctuary, as if some power had erased all information about these Gods.

The question of the Gods of the Sanctuary could be set aside for now, but the similarities between the Realm of All Spirits and the Alchemy Towers revealed a crucial piece of information about the Ant-man Empress to Victor.

Father Miller had nearly destroyed the Realm of All Spirits with the power of the Lord of Radiance, but he had failed to eliminate the Ant-man Empress’s main consciousness. This should involve the problem of “Origin.” Just as the Pale Sovereign could expel Victor’s consciousness from within the Realm of All Spirits but could never kill him. This was because the Origin of Victor’s consciousness was in the outside world. He might not always be able to enter the Realm of All Spirits, but if he wanted to leave, he could. The Pale Sovereign could not bind his soul, let alone a mere sliver of his consciousness.

No matter how powerful Father Miller’s power was, if used incorrectly, he could not kill the Ant-man Empress.

The problem was, if the Realm of All Spirits could not trap Victor’s consciousness, why could it bind the Ant-man Empress’s main consciousness, preventing it from personally commanding the Ant-man army?

The Ant-man Empress’s “Origin” was definitely not in the Realm of All Spirits; this much was now certain. Otherwise, Father Miller would have dealt with it on the spot. The Ant-man Empress was a creation of the Secret Order’s alchemists; she clearly couldn’t compare to the ultimate creations of the Alchemical Empire.

The ancient alchemist had described a few things about the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower in the memory crystal: the Ant-man Empress was actually a special kind of Alchemy Tower. It did not rely on a place of balanced void element convergence but possessed the biological characteristics of the Gros Insectoids, creating combat and labor units by laying and hatching eggs. This meant the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower did not split off a bit of the Tower Master’s Soul Fire to control its alchemical units through soul fluctuations. Due to the risk of the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower going out of control, the Secret Order alchemists did the reverse: they split off a bit of the Ant-man Empress’s Soul Fire and created an Elemental Rune Crystal that could restrict or shut it down.

Only by finding that Elemental Rune Crystal could Victor, through Beldina’s hand, eliminate the undying Ant-man Empress.

The intelligence about the Elemental Rune Crystal was just the word of one Secret Order alchemist, with no corroborating evidence. Moreover, that alchemist was not even the creator of the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower.

Therefore, this intelligence was of limited value. Victor didn’t even know what the Elemental Rune Crystal looked like. He once suspected it was hidden in the Realm of All Spirits. But since the power projected by the Lord of Radiance had failed to eradicate the Ant-man Empress there, that possibility was also ruled out.

However, the Black Blood Sovereign, the Realm of All Spirits, and the Ant-man Empress all shared the same source: the King of the Spirit Realm. There was a special connection between them, but to say the Ant-man Empress’s consciousness could freely enter and exit the Realm of All Spirits was too far-fetched.

Victor needed to wear the Wizard King’s Soul Mask and have the Pale Sovereign voluntarily open the door for his consciousness to enter the Realm of All Spirits. When the Ant-man Empress’s main consciousness was trapped in the Realm, there was no Soul Mask. So how did she get in?

First of all, over fifteen hundred years ago, where was the door to the Realm of All Spirits?

Undoubtedly, the Asoerta Temple was the connection point between the Realm of All Spirits and the real world. The Assyrian shamans would cast the remains of their blood sacrifices into the Sacrificial Pit, and their souls would appear in the central temple of the Realm of All Spirits.

However, after the death of the Black Blood Sovereign, the Ant-man Empress immediately occupied the Asoerta Temple. That “door” was no longer usable.

So, how did the souls of the slaves from the blood sacrifice rituals held by the descendants of the Assyrian Empire in the last few days enter the Realm of All Spirits?

The Wizard King’s Soul Mask was in Victor’s hands, and the Ant-man Empress was blocking the main entrance to the Realm of All Spirits. The Assyrian remnants clearly had a third “door” to enter and exit the Realm of All Spirits!

Victor thought of the Elemental Rune Crystal that controlled the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower!

The Ant-man Empress and the Realm of All Spirits shared the same origin. The Elemental Rune Crystal that sealed a bit of her Soul Fire might very well be the key the Assyrian shamans used to bind her!

Only by knowing the Ant-man Empress extremely well could the descendants of the Assyrian Empire have possibly trapped her main consciousness in the Realm of All Spirits.

Victor had asked the Pale Sovereign for the Ant-man Empress’s true name. If she could answer, it would prove that the Ant-man Empress and the Azoretta people had a very close connection. Perhaps the Ant-man Empress’s lair was once also inside the Asoerta Temple.

More accurately, it was located somewhere inside the temple’s Alchemy Tower.

And now she had returned home, to monopolize the place where the void elements converged in balance!

The Pale Sovereign pondered for a long time before saying in a hollow voice, “The Undying One’s true name is… Angelina…”

The moment her voice fell, Victor’s body instantly turned to nothingness, vanishing without a trace. The Pale Sovereign, wearing her feathered crown, pressed her lips together tightly and fell back into prolonged thought. She felt she had missed something very important, but she couldn’t seem to remember what it was, able only to search for an answer amidst the chaotic fragments of her memory.

On a branch of the ancient tree, Victor’s consciousness withdrew from the Realm of All Spirits. In his agitated state, he had unknowingly crushed a thick tree branch, causing a large section of the canopy to break off and fall.

Angelina, the name of a human woman. Back then, the alchemist Maximo, who had created the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower, had a Mage follower and lover who was also named Angelina. She was the one who had discovered and wiped out a small Gros Insectoid swarm in the Endless Forest, leaving behind the ant queen’s egg. Maximo used that queen’s egg to create the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower. Because Angelina’s principles of wizardry overlapped with the authority of the King of the Spirit Realm, the work of weaving the Alchemy Tower’s Will Side was also completed by her. She also controlled the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower through that Elemental Rune Crystal.

The Mage Angelina of the ancient Alchemical Empire was the original Tower Master of the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower!

Victor’s heart felt as cold as ice. He reached into his collar and took out the memory crystal from the temple’s Alchemy Tower from a leather pouch he carried close to his body. He muttered to himself, “I need to find Beldina, unlock this memory crystal, and see if this whole affair is really a conspiracy by the Mage Angelina.”

Chapter 826: Woodland Swamp

Beldina was a crucial character in Victor’s plans, and he had done his utmost to ensure her safety. After the battle at the temple, Victor was exhausted, and the Dragonkin handmaidens Mewen and Fugerui, who had participated in the fight, were greatly weakened. It took them more than ten days to recover their ability to transform into Dragonkin. This was why Victor had preemptively sent the Dragonkin handmaiden Dili to the top of the temple to protect him.

However, Victor had arranged for Laila, the red Dragonkin handmaiden with the most formidable individual combat strength, to stay by Beldina’s side. Her team also included the astonishingly promising big simpleton Caligula, Father Dayn with the sacred object crystal, Imosen the Wizard, the Silver rank Ferocious warrior “Blood Python” Macy, the experienced female knight Charlotte, Ghostface Swordsman Tao De, and the large aberrant war beast Philip II. In addition, there were three Alchemical Dragon-Lizards, an unknown number of Alchemical Warhounds and Bear-Dogs, more than ten sword-wielding handmaidens, and over eighty Alchemical humans. Third-level Source-Blood Militia made up the majority of the latter, but the group also included two fifth-level Source-Blood Militia and two Alchemical Soldiers.

This team’s strength was relatively complete, with powerhouses at every level. Even so, Victor had ordered them to stay far away from the temple battlefield. Once Imosen completed his mission of luring out the Black Blood Sovereign, they were to immediately slip into the forest on the western side of the mountains and search for the settlements of the Assyrian Empire’s descendants. Victor, meanwhile, took three Dragonkin handmaidens and hid in the forest on the eastern side. He had chosen not to rendezvous with Charlotte’s team at the time precisely to draw the Ant-man Empress and her claws away, preventing them from harming Beldina.

Now, it was suspected that the Ant-man Empress’s true identity was Angelina, a female Mage from the Alchemical Empire. Disguised as the Sorrowful Sovereign, she had made contact with Beldina’s team in the Underground Tunnel of the temple. Bel’s special status could not have escaped her notice, which made all of Victor’s previous arrangements seem insufficient. If he were the Ant-man Empress, he would certainly prioritize eliminating Beldina, his greatest threat.

Victor suspected that the reason he had yet to discover any Ant-man scouts was because the Ant-man Empress was concentrating her forces, trying to track and hunt down Beldina’s team.

However, Victor and Beldina were too far apart, well beyond the effective range of his Tracking Intuition. But his Mental Link with the Dragonkin handmaiden Laila was not limited by distance. By sensing Laila’s position and her emotional state, Victor discovered that they were wandering around in a forest to the west, not moving very quickly. They were likely searching for the settlement of the Assyrian descendants, which also meant they had not yet been discovered by the Ant-man Empress.

The Mental Link with the Dragonkin handmaidens could not transmit complex information. Based on Laila’s current position, Victor estimated it would take him at least eight days to find them, and he would have to cross the Asoerta Mountains along the way. Eager to reunite with Beldina, he used the Mental Link to ask Laila to have the team wait for him in their current vicinity.

However, Victor did not know that this was a mistake.

In the primeval forest on the western side of the Northern Asoerta Mountains.

In the woodlands, where the spring sunlight struggled to penetrate, water from melting ice and snow gathered in low-lying areas, forming a vast and unique woodland swamp. Every day, from sunrise until just before sunset, the swamp was shrouded in a hazy, dense mist. The silent forest seemed to be veiled in an invisible white gauze, appearing strange and mysterious.

With her hair tied in a short, single ponytail, Bel ran and jumped through the swampy woods, her deerskin boots shattering one placid, mirror-like water surface after another.

“Aka, don’t I look like a forest fairy?” Bel stopped in a shallow pool of water, spun a couple of times on one tiptoe, sending ripples across the surface. She turned her plump, rosy little face to Caligula behind her and asked with a crescent-eyed smile.

“Bel, let’s go back quickly. This place is scary,” said the tall and burly Caligula, shrinking his neck. His eyes darted around the misty forest, his expression tense.

Not receiving the praise she expected, Bel pouted. Her eyes darted around, and then she raised her little hands into claws, speaking in a gloomy tone, “I’m a forest banshee… Caligula, if you don’t listen to me, I’ll send ghosts to get you…”

Aka’s courage was indeed not great, but his strength was undeniable. How could Bel’s silly face possibly frighten him?

Not only was he not scared, but he was also amused by his little companion. “I don’t believe Bel is a forest banshee,” he said with a foolish grin. “This forest is bad, a very, very bad forest. Let’s go back to the priest.”

“I’m not going back! I want to find the daffodil. It has six petals, opens during the day, and closes at night. Inside lives a little fairy with dragonfly wings. The daffodil is her little house,” Beldina said to Caligula, looking around everywhere.

Aka thought for a moment and exclaimed, “Oh, is that the Flower Fey that the shorty Bobo was talking about? Lady Charlotte said the shorty brothers love to brag. The Flower Fey and the daffodil house are just stories Bobo made up. They’re fake, for tricking little kids. Oh, I forgot, Bel is a little kid.”

Beldina was furious. With her hands on her hips, she stomped her foot and said, “What shorty? Bobo and Tiantian are Halflings. Aka is a big dummy for calling a Halfling a shorty… Also, I’m not a little kid! I’m twenty-two this year, you can’t even remember that? So, Aka is a big dummy.”

Just then, the barking of a Bear-Dog echoed from a distance. The sword-wielding handmaiden responsible for watching Bel walked over and coaxed, “Miss Beldina, the hunting party is back. We’ve been out playing all morning. We should head back to camp for lunch.”

The Flower Fey living in a daffodil house was clearly less appealing than lunch. She and Aka cheered in unison and ran toward the camp.

The sword-wielding handmaiden blew a bird-like call from a whistle, and a dozen fully armed warriors emerged from the nearby woods, following Beldina and Caligula as they left the woodland swamp.

The expeditionary force’s camp was set up on higher ground in the forest. It was less a camp and more a temporary settlement. The accompanying craftsmen had built a dozen simple shacks from branches for the core members and sword-wielding handmaidens to live in. The other soldiers and war beasts rested in the open.

The hunting party returned with some wild vegetables, edible plant roots, and a few beasts for today’s lunch. Aka happily accepted the task of making lunch. While little Bel was “helping” him by getting in the way, the core members of the expeditionary force gathered around Charlotte to discuss some issues.

In fact, this discussion was initiated by Ghostface Swordsman Tao De. Although his combat strength was average, his mind was meticulous and profound. He was a low-key but shrewd and capable man, and the opinions he occasionally offered always struck at the heart of the matter. Commander Charlotte had come to regard Tao De as her staff assistant and gave this discussion due importance. Aside from the team’s big and small treasures, all other core members were summoned by Charlotte.

Seeing that everyone had arrived, Charlotte instructed, “Tao De, you may begin now.”

Shifting his gaze from Caligula, Tao De turned and bowed to Charlotte. “Yes, Lady Charlotte. I believe there is something strange about this forest, and we should leave here as soon as possible. But I cannot offer any factual evidence for Your Excellencies to consider.”

After a brief silence, Father Dayn shook his head and said, “Tao De, that doesn’t sound like you… Leave matters of intuition to the Ferocious warriors, while the Knight commander is responsible for judging and assessing danger. Since you’re suggesting we leave, you must have your reasons, right?”

If a Ferocious warrior made decisions based solely on intuition, they would be no better than a ferocious beast. Wisdom and reason were humanity’s greatest strengths. On this point, the mind of a Knight combined with the intuition of a Ferocious warrior could often turn peril into safety and defeat into victory for a team.

Tao De nodded. “Your Excellency Dayn is right. It is because of Aka’s recent abnormal behavior that I carefully reflected on our experiences and discovered some suspicious circumstances.”

Charlotte glanced at Caligula, not far away, and said softly, “Let’s start with the first issue. What’s abnormal about Aka?”

Tao De said thoughtfully, “Aka is always… uneasy. He seems to be able to perceive dangers that we cannot see.”

Imosen interjected, “I’m afraid that’s not abnormal… it’s normal. Ever since we separated from Master Randall, Aka has been yelling about danger. Danger ahead, danger behind—he’s never felt safe. Remember when we had just left the Asoerta Mountains? Aka said there was danger to the east of the woods. I sent a Razorbeast to check, but it only found a wild bear that had just come out of hibernation… The Razorbeast killed the bear, and Aka said the danger was gone. I really don’t know why someone with Aka’s physique and strength would think a skinny bear posed a threat.”

The Wizard paused, then shook his head with a wry smile. “Where in a primeval forest is there no danger? This whole way, Aka hasn’t stopped worrying. If we relied on his danger sense, where could we even go? How would we complete the search mission the Master gave us?”

Charlotte raised her emerald eyes to the family’s only Ferocious female warrior and asked, “Macy, do you think there’s a problem around here?”

Blood Python Macy was not the same person she once was. She was no longer the fierce refugee leader who had beaten Caligula to the brink of death. Her horizons and strength had grown daily, and she possessed a woman’s keen eye for detail. Frowning, she shook her head and said, “I don’t sense any danger nearby. However, Aka is special… I can’t say about other things, but when it comes to a Ferocious warrior’s psychic intuition, Aka and I are completely different. For example, I only perceive danger from things that can threaten me. Ordinary wild beasts don’t trigger my danger sense at all. Aka has no such restriction. He reacts in advance to any possible attack.”

Father Dayn coughed and added, “Caligula is under our Lord’s protection and possesses the gift of a saint’s power within him. He can only be considered a Gold rank warrior when he awakens that holy power. Usually, he’s just a simple-minded child, even if he is very large…”

Macy said in a low voice, “Your Excellency Dayn, we cannot deny Aka’s strength. Just like Lady Laila—when she perceives danger, it’s already too late by the time we see it.”

The level of danger Caligula could sense ranged from that affecting ordinary people to threats to Gold rank warriors. Some sources of danger could be ignored, but others were not necessarily within the scope of what even a Gold rank warrior could handle.

Macy’s example of the Dragonkin handmaiden Laila was very convincing. Laila never mentioned things like danger, but when she did, it was best for everyone to flee immediately.

Imosen glanced at Laila, who was sleeping in the canopy of a tree, and seeing that she was completely unconcerned with the discussion, he said with a touch of reserve, “With Lady Laila here, we don’t need to worry too much about Aka’s intuition… ahem, even if it’s a danger that Lady Laila perceives, it’s not like we’re powerless to resist. Quite the contrary, based on my experience of survival in the Great Marsh, we should be increasing our strength now to complete the task our Master has given us.”

“In the nearby forest, I’ve discovered a species of social animal that’s like a mix of a monkey and a cat. They are small but fierce, hunt in groups, and are adept at preying on insects, lizards, and birds. They can even hunt down prey several times their size. The key is that they are omnivores, with plants making up the majority of their diet… Give me some time, and I can cultivate a group of aberrant war beasts better adapted to the forest environment than Razorbeasts. And I will ensure they retain their omnivorous and social nature.”

Charlotte couldn’t help but be moved. “Your Excellency Imosen, how long will you need?” she pressed.

Imosen couldn’t hide his pride. “Ten days! At most, ten days. I can cultivate as many aberrant beasts as you can catch of these Monkey-cats. I have already figured out how to modify their soul forms. After a few adjustments, I can master a cultivation method and then use it to create more aberrant beasts. Of course, the ten days are for them to eat their fill and grow into the form of aberrant war beasts. Their size should be only half that of a Razorbeast, but their combat power, especially their group combat power, will definitely be superior to a Razorbeast’s!”

Aberrant war beasts ate only meat. In the human kingdoms, raising aberrant war beasts was a huge financial burden for a lord; during wartime, they became a heavy logistical burden. In a forest environment like the one the Randell Expeditionary Force was in, Imosen the Wizard could theoretically create a large number of Razorbeasts based on the limits of his spiritual power, but due to the limited meat supply, he currently only had Philip II and three Razorbeasts with him.

If what he said was true, and the new aberrant beasts were omnivorous like the Alchemical Dragon-Lizards, the supply problem would be easily solved. The number of aberrant beasts could be greatly increased and maintained at a stable level. The expeditionary force needed aberrant war beasts, and Imosen would no longer have to rush to cultivate them, making many urgent situations less so.

The significance of omnivorous aberrant beasts was profound; the individual combat strength of the beasts was less important. At least, it would be a great help to the expeditionary force’s current situation, making it easier to search the forest and greatly enhancing the team’s ability to withstand risks.

In fact, Imosen didn’t have this ability before. He initially only corrupted the souls of target animals, and what the animals turned into after aberration was completely uncontrollable. The only rule was that the form and abilities of the Biological Aberration would conform to its environment, which meant that not all Biological Aberrations were powerful enough. For instance, if an aberrant beast only ate rats in a castle, how could it possibly possess combat power comparable to a Knight’s?

Imosen had lived in seclusion in the Lizard Marsh for over a decade,琢磨ing his Wizardry techniques on his own, and had only come up with the stable cultivation method for Razorbeasts. Later, in the Randell Fief, with Victor providing various resources, he accumulated a great deal of practical experience by cultivating Bear-Dogs, wild red bulls, and Swiftbirds.

However, this experience had not been converted into systematic knowledge.

Ever since Imosen’s Philip III was absorbed by the Black Blood Sovereign, he himself had also been injured. But during the Wisdom Guidance, he had a Law-level interaction with the Black Blood Sovereign. His previously accumulated experience finally triggered a qualitative change, helping him break through a barrier and enter a whole new realm.

Charlotte focused on the practical application of the new type of aberrant war beast; Imosen focused on his own academic level; and Father Dayn had a completely different feeling.

When he was treating Imosen, he sensed a significant increase in the other’s magical power. The key was that he had confidently proposed a reproducible method for cultivating omnivorous aberrant beasts. This was a spell model!

Imosen was able to create his own spell model. He finally had the makings of a Legendary Wizard.

Ghostface Swordsman Tao De didn’t think so far ahead. Focusing on the current situation, he said, “Something’s not right with this forest. Aka always feels there’s danger nearby, but he can’t pinpoint the source’s direction. I’ve led men to search the area repeatedly and found no particularly powerful monsters. Today, Macy and I walked the path we came from again, and we found that several markers the team had left behind had been altered.”

Charlotte’s eyes narrowed slightly, and a cautious expression appeared on her beautiful face. Before she could ask, Tao De continued, “When we came, a mark we left on an ancient tree had been scratched up by a leopard. From the marks, it seemed it was sharpening its claws on the trunk and happened to scratch the marker. At the second location, the marker buried under a small willow tree was gone. A bear, waking from hibernation, had torn up the willow’s roots while digging for worms and destroyed the marker. The third marker was intact, but that location is quite far from us, not within this woodland swamp.”

Charlotte said in a low voice, “The expeditionary force has encountered both undead and demons. Even if our hidden trail markers were accidentally destroyed by wild animals, we cannot treat these things as mere coincidences… Tao De, Macy, you did well.”

She turned her head to the priest and asked, “Your Excellency Dayn, I’ve noticed that ever since we entered this woodland swamp, Aka likes to stay by your side. Did he also tell you there are ghosts here?”

Dayn’s expression turned grave. He said in a deep voice, “Caligula has a very special relationship with the saints of the Church, so of course I take his views and perceptions seriously. I have carefully observed our surroundings with the Art of True Sight, but I have found no traces of the undead.”

Finding nothing could be worse than finding something.

The atmosphere of the conversation gradually grew heavy, affecting Imosen’s mood. He thought for a moment and said with hesitation, “The Master told us to leave the Asoerta Mountains as soon as possible, because the undead of Asoerta would awaken after the ice and snow melted. We did indeed leave the undead’s range of activity before the temperature warmed up. Logically, the descendants of the Assyrian Empire couldn’t be too far from the Asoerta Mountains, nor could they live near the undead. Finding the Assyrian descendants’ settlement in the Endless Forest is both difficult and simple… The communal Assyrian descendants can’t live far from a water source. I used Wisdom Guidance to control birds to search along the rivers in the forest, but I couldn’t find any signs of their activity. Now it seems this isn’t because our luck is too bad…”

The Wizard added with a forced smile, “Everyone knows Bel’s luck has always been good.”

Charlotte rose gracefully to her feet, her gaze focused as she observed the surroundings. In the woodland swamp, the shadows of the trees were graceful in the faint mist. Pools of shallow water were as calm as bright mirrors, reflecting the trees. The scenery here was beautiful and strange, as if two worlds were overlapping.

“Victor once told me that the Endless Forest has a consciousness,” Charlotte said softly with a sigh.

“The Endless Forest has a consciousness?” Macy walked to Charlotte’s side and asked with curiosity. She and Tao De served as the vanguards of the expeditionary force and were not around Victor most of the time. They hadn’t heard some of the things Victor had told Charlotte.

Charlotte thought of her Lover, a gentle smile touching the corner of her lips. She explained, “Once you understand the principle, it’s actually very simple… Outsiders will break the natural balance of an area. Just as we need to hunt and gather every time we enter a new forest, we clash with the native inhabitants and cause destruction. In response to this destruction, the Endless Forest chooses to assimilate or repel outsiders, and the first step is to weaken them… You can’t expect the forest to deliver prey, fruit, and wild vegetables to us. In barren places, food is scarce, and we must expend a great deal of vigor and time to find resources; in rich places, we have to fight powerful native inhabitants. The forest weakens us with conflict, hunger, and fatigue, forcing us to choose a place to live. In this way, the Endless Forest assimilates outsiders, turning them into native inhabitants of the forest, or they become nutrients for the forest.”

She shook her head and said, “Truthfully, we are already very tired… Worried about encountering powerful enemies, I chose a path with relatively scarce resources. The team’s stored food supplies are only enough for two days, and Your Excellency Imosen’s Razorbeasts have basically all been fed to Philip II. Besides the difficulty with supplies, we have yet to find the settlement of the Assyrian descendants. I have indeed felt a sense of mental exhaustion.”

Everyone in the team felt this pressure. Except for the alchemical creatures, but they couldn’t solve the problem. When it was time to starve, they could only starve.

Imosen fell silent for a moment, then sighed, “If only the Master were here.”

Charlotte shook her head gently, her hand resting on her sword hilt. “The forest’s consciousness reminds me of an Assyrian belief, that all things have a spirit… The situation we’re facing now might be related to the descendants of the Assyrians. Don’t forget, they are natives of the Endless Forest. If they didn’t have some special means, they would have gone extinct long ago.”

Tao De took a step forward and asked, “My Lady, do you think we are now close to the settlement of the Assyrian descendants?”

Charlotte glanced at him and chided, “Tao De, don’t just think about completing His Highness’s mission. At the very least, I will not resort to any means necessary, at the cost of my companions’ lives, to carry out the search mission.”

His Highness Randell’s sworn female knight spoke beautiful words, but Tao De didn’t believe a single one. However, speaking pretty words was a privilege of those in high positions. Lady Charlotte’s words and actions represented their Master, so Tao De could only inexplicably shoulder the blame. He bowed and said, “Tao De will heed My Lady’s teachings.”

Charlotte smiled slightly and said, “The situation is unclear. I’ve decided to leave this forest first—”

“You’re not going anywhere!”

The Dragonkin handmaiden Laila leaped from the treetops to stand before them, her ruby-like eyes shining with joy. She said arrogantly, “My King has ordered us to wait for him here.”

Charlotte was overjoyed and eagerly asked, “His Highness is coming? When will he arrive?”

Laila lifted her chin, the corners of her lips curling up. “In about ten days, My King will find us.”

Imosen clapped his hands together forcefully and said excitedly, “Excellent! I must hurry and cultivate a large batch of omnivorous aberrant beasts for the Master to command.”

Charlotte nodded with a brilliant smile. “Good. We will make camp here and rest. We’ll gather resources, cultivate some aberrant war beasts, and carefully scout our surroundings while we wait for the Master’s arrival.”

Chapter 827: Ambushed

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Charlotte ordered the expedition to rest where they were and await the arrival of His Highness Randell. The force immediately began constructing a temporary camp and dispatched scout squads to expand their reconnaissance range, while also gathering resources from the forest to replenish their dwindling supplies.

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The Alchemical humans were all experts in wilderness survival, and the militia craftsmen, equipped with construction skills, were adept at using local materials to build practical, functional shelters. Wielding their tools with superhuman strength, they leveled the ground and felled trees, building seven or eight simple wooden cabins in just half a day.

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As Charlotte had said, the expeditionary force had trekked for thousands of kilometers. The key members of the team were tense, physically and mentally exhausted, and needed time to recover. With these cabins, they no longer had to curl up in cramped shacks and could even take hot baths. Relaxed smiles appeared on everyone’s faces.

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No one was happier than Beldina. This forest marsh had a strange, fairy-tale-like scenery. Spending too much time here might make one tired of the humidity, but Bel had lived in Lizard Marsh since she could remember. The water vapor that filled the woods was nothing to her, and besides, she had only been here for a day and hadn’t had her fill of fun yet.

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Beldina was a high-priority individual under the expedition’s protection, and her small cabin was located in the center of the camp. Considering the strangeness of the forest, Charlotte arranged for Blood Python Macy to stay with Bel.

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Macy was more than happy to take care of Bel. She was not only a Silver-rank Ferocious warrior but also a very motherly woman. To join the House of Randell, she had followed her Master’s will and severed ties with her refugee family. Although she couldn’t help but secretly look after her adopted children, Macy couldn’t live with them, so her motherly affection was transferred to Beldina.

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For this very reason, Victor had once tried to match Macy with Imosen. Unfortunately, Macy wanted to have a child with a Knight-Noble, and Imosen didn’t meet her standards for a partner. But this didn’t stop Macy from doting on Beldina. After dinner, she gave Bel a hot bath, told her a couple of short stories, and once Bel fell asleep, Macy kissed her rosy, chubby little cheeks and held her as she rested.

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In the middle of the night, Beldina heard a sound that was both familiar and strange—the buzzing of a flying insect’s wings. She hadn’t heard the buzzing of insects for a long time, not since she started traveling with the Dragonkin handmaiden. Bel groggily opened her eyes and saw a tiny person with dragonfly wings on its back fly past the tip of her nose. It happened to see her eyes open, too, and, startled, it flew to the wall, hiding in a crack between the logs.

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“A Flower Fey… Macy, look, it’s a Flower Fey!”

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Delighted, Beldina reached out to nudge Macy beside her, but Macy was sleeping so soundly she didn’t react at all. Bel then saw the Flower Fey peek its head out before flying out of the crack in the wall. Unable to contain her intense curiosity, she jumped out of bed barefoot and ran outside the cabin to find the Flower Fey the Halfling adventurers often spoke of.

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The moonlight was serene, and the entire camp was quiet. Even the Savage warhounds and Bear-Dogs were curled up on the ground, asleep. Bel kicked the “white bread” curled up at the door with her fair, tender little foot, wanting to take it with her to find the Flower Fey, but the soundly sleeping Savage warhound completely ignored its Young Master. Just then, the Flower Fey with two pairs of dragonfly wings flew past Bel again. Forgetting about scolding the sleepy “white bread,” she chased the Flower Fey into the mist-shrouded forest marsh.

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The Flower Fey seemed to be intentionally playing a game of hide-and-seek with Beldina. It would appear and disappear, but it always let the little girl find it. Beldina’s cheerful laughter echoed through the tranquil forest.

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“Bel, you little sleepyhead, wake up. If you don’t get up soon, you won’t get any of the breakfast Aka’s making.” Macy’s magnetic voice sounded by her ear. Beldina shot up in bed, stunned for a couple of seconds, then hurriedly jumped off, lifted her little feet to look at them, and muttered, “So it was a dream.”

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“Little sleepyhead, what nice dream did you have?” Macy asked with a gentle smile.

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“I dreamed of a Flower Fey, and it was playing hide-and-seek with me.” Bel furrowed her little brows and said unhappily, “You scared it away.”

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A cryptic light flashed in the depths of Macy’s eyes. Smiling, she helped Bel get dressed in her armor, shoes, and socks, then took her outside to rinse her mouth and wash her face. Once the little girl had skipped off to breakfast, she turned and found My Lady Charlotte and Father Dayn, relating Bel’s situation to them.

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Charlotte’s willow-like brows furrowed slightly. She said softly, “A Flower Fey? The Halfling adventurers told some stories about them. They are incarnations of the forest and represent good luck. Only those favored by the forest will encounter a Flower Fey… Bel only saw one in a dream. That doesn’t seem to be a problem, does it?”

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Macy said, not without worry, “But it seems that besides Bel, no one else in the group has dreams.”

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“Bel hasn’t been practicing the Mind Bloodline secret art taught by His Highness Randell seriously. It’s quite normal for her to have dreams.” Dayn thought for a moment, then stood up and said, “I’ll go take a look. All darkness and evil have nowhere to hide in the radiance of our Lord.”

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At noon, the priest reported that he had found nothing wrong with Bel. Charlotte was still a little worried, so that night she took Bel to Laila’s cabin to rest.

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The Dragonkin handmaiden Laila regarded Beldina as one of her Master’s important servant-like treasures, but she didn’t know how to take care of Bel and simply went into dormancy on her own. But Charlotte watched over Bel for the entire night. The next day, when Bel woke up, she had dreamed of the Flower Fey again—and this time, four of them were playing with her in the forest marsh.

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On the third day, Father Dayn, Charlotte, Laila, and Macy kept watch together. Beldina still dreamed of Flower Fey, and their numbers had reached sixteen.

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On the fourth day, Bel continued to play with the Flower Fey in her dreams. Now there was a whole swarm of them.

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This time, everyone realized the gravity of the situation. Charlotte thought of many ways to stop Bel’s strange dreams, for instance, by felling trees in the forest at the same time she fell asleep, based on her description of the dream environment. However, all the measures Charlotte took were ineffective.

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As soon as Bel fell asleep, she would dream, and in her dreams, she would run wild with a swarm of Flower Fey. During the day, she was perfectly normal, still the same carefree little sweetheart. Father Dayn couldn’t find anything wrong with her either.

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Faced with this kind of unresolvable and mysterious situation, Charlotte would normally lead the team to relocate immediately. However, Laila was against it, and Imosen the Wizard’s experiment had reached a critical stage. As a father, his mind was completely focused, all his vigor devoted to creating his own spell model. He was completely unaware of the strange things happening to Bel. Flame-like runes of the void constantly flashed around the Wizard, forming sets of profound patterns. Right now, no one dared to disturb him for fear of triggering unpredictable consequences.

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Fortunately, Victor was getting closer and closer to the camp. Laila indicated that in another seven or eight days, the Master and the three Dragonkin handmaidens would arrive. Charlotte’s heart immediately settled. As long as Victor arrived, any difficulty could be easily solved. She worshiped her Lover and had infinite confidence in His Highness Randell.

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Strangely enough, ever since Bel started dreaming of Flower Fey, the expeditionary force’s luck had become extraordinarily good. The hunting parties returned fully loaded every time, and the supply reserves quickly recovered to above the safe line. Imosen’s Wizardry experiments were also progressing smoothly. He had successfully resolved the flaws in his spell model, increasing the efficiency of creating Aberrant Beasts by more than tenfold. All two hundred thirty jungle cat-apes caught by the Alchemical militia were transformed by him into omnivorous Aberrant Beasts. Imosen steeled his heart and fed the only three remaining Razorbeasts to his new pets.

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The aberrant cat-apes absorbed the Bloodline Law accumulated by the Razorbeasts and also consumed the fresh prey brought back by the hunting squads. Their life forms changed rapidly, with their average weight increasing from sixty pounds to one hundred eighty pounds. Their size became comparable to that of an ordinary jungle leopard. Although not as large as the Razorbeasts, which were comparable in size to spotted tigers, the difference in their combat effectiveness was limited.

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Besides their enhanced, powerful bodies, the aberrant cat-apes’ advantage lay in their decent intelligence. They were born knowing how to fight cooperatively, a skill the Razorbeasts did not possess.

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The Biological Aberrations Imosen had created before lacked wisdom, relying on the instinct to consume flesh and blood to attack their targets. Controlling their behavior took up a great deal of the Wizard’s vigor. The behavioral patterns of the aberrant cat-apes, however, were closer to the aberrant war beasts raised by great lords. Imosen could temporarily delegate command authority over a small portion of the aberrant cat-apes to others, thereby reducing his own vigor S burden and allowing him to cultivate and control even more of them.

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Although these two hundred-odd aberrant cat-apes combined were still no match for Philip II, for Imosen, creating them was a qualitative leap. It represented him beginning to take control of his Wizardry, rather than being controlled by it.

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Through his “intimate contact” with the Black Blood Sovereign, Imosen had seen a treasure trove. It would still take time for him to accumulate the power to convert this treasure trove into his own strength, and the aberrant cat-apes were undoubtedly a good start.

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In any case, the two hundred thirty omnivorous aberrant cat-apes increased the strength of the Randell Expeditionary Force, making survival and search missions much simpler.

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Imosen hadn’t slept for days and nights. He was now disheveled and exhausted. Forcing himself to stay alert, he handed over command of his new servants to several squad captains and was about to return to his cabin, supported by a sword-wielding handmaiden. Charlotte quickly and simply told the Wizard about the strange things Beldina had been dreaming of.

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Imosen yawned and said weakly, “Bel used to have strange dreams when she was little in the Great Marsh. She couldn’t speak back then, so she would write and draw to show me… She’s fine. When I wake up…”

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Before he could finish his sentence, the Wizard fell asleep, leaning on the sword-wielding handmaiden’s shoulder. Everyone looked at each other in dismay, left with no choice but to have the sword-wielding handmaiden carry the exhausted Wizard into the cabin.

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Imosen woke up two days later, still basking in the joy of his success, but he also remembered to care for his precious daughter. After talking with Beldina, the Wizard vaguely indicated to everyone that his daughter possessed some special abilities. Although he was always reluctant to admit that Bel was also a Wizard, he still revealed that she might possess an extraordinary ability related to luck.

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“So, you’re saying Bel’s dreams are a rare manifestation of a Law, representing luck?” Father Dayn attempted an explanation, then smiled at Charlotte. “I was wondering why Your Highness brought Beldina on the expedition to the Endless Forest. Now I finally understand. Bel is our lucky charm! It’s just that when Your Highness was with the group, she didn’t need to use her ability. Now that His Highness isn’t here, her extraordinary ability has been activated.”

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No one could clearly explain a Wizard’s extraordinary power, and no one could solve the problem of Bel’s dreams right now. Besides, the expedition’s luck had indeed been very good these past few days, and most importantly, His Highness Randell was about to arrive. Everyone temporarily accepted Dayn’s explanation, believing that Beldina had brought them good luck.

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However, an old folk proverb proved true—the greater the luck, the greater the misfortune to follow.

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In the early morning of the seventh day, Imosen the Wizard ran out of his cabin, disheveled, and shrieked, “Attack! Attack! Everyone get up, get up now! The Ant-man monsters are nearby!”

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Charlotte shot out of her cabin like an arrow, grabbed Imosen’s shoulders, and demanded, “Don’t panic! Tell me clearly what happened.”

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Imosen took a deep breath, his expression panicked. “Just now, I sensed one of my aberrant cat-apes was killed. I used Wisdom Guidance Wizardry to control one of its companions to see what was happening, and… and I discovered Ant-men! At least several thousand of them! Among them was an Ant-man with a white carapace, and it was devouring my aberrant cat-ape… I saw it, and it saw me too. These Ant-man monsters are coming for us!”

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Charlotte pressed urgently, “Where are they? How far from us?”

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“At the very edge of the camp’s warning perimeter, in the forest to the southeast, over eighty kilometers from our camp.”

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Charlotte’s expression changed drastically. Her gaze swept over the companions who had gathered around, finally landing on Caligula’s large face. She snapped, “Aka, didn’t you sense the danger?”

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The big simpleton was frightened by the tigress-like My Lady Charlotte. He shook his head repeatedly and stammered, “Aka didn’t feel any danger. Since Bel started having weird dreams, Aka hasn’t felt any danger at all.”

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“My Lady, I didn’t sense any danger either… For the past few days, being in this forest marsh has felt like being at home,” Macy spoke up before Charlotte could ask.

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At this, everyone’s gazes converged on Laila. The red-haired, red-eyed Dragonkin handmaiden turned her head, lifted her chin, and snorted coldly.

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Without a doubt, she hadn’t sensed the approaching danger in advance either.

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And some dangers, by the time you see them, it’s already too late…

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Charlotte looked around at the misty forest, her slender, willow-like brows knitting together. She murmured, “There’s something wrong with this forest. It’s blocking the danger sense of the Ferocious warriors and the Savage warhounds…”

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Ghostface Swordsman Tao De took a step forward and said in a low voice, “My Lady, we can still retreat now. We can use our advantage in speed and stamina to separate the strong from the weak in the ant swarm. This should ensure the overall safety of the team and even allow us to counter-kill the powerful opponents who get separated from the swarm. But we must leave this area first!”

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Father Dayn nodded, indicating his approval of Tao De’s Counsel. He asked, “Which direction would be best for us to break through?”

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The red Dragonkin handmaiden Laila interjected, “Master is to the southeast, currently crossing the Asoerta Mountains. He’ll need about three more days to get here.”

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“We can’t go in Master’s direction.” Charlotte shook her head and explained to Laila, “The Ant-men know our location. We’re exposed while they’re hidden. We must prepare for the worst and consider that they might have already set up an ambush to the southeast. The Ant-man monsters are coming from the south. If we retreat southeast, we’ll only close the distance between us. So, we should retreat in the opposite direction, to the north. First, we get out of this damn forest marsh, then we find a way to circle around and shake off the Ant-man army… His Highness, he’ll definitely be able to find us.”

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Laila, holding her giant axeblade, shrugged and said nonchalantly, “You’re the commander appointed by My King. I’ll follow your orders.”

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Charlotte nodded, took a deep breath, and gave a decisive order, “We’re leaving now! Notify all sentries and aberrant war beasts on watch outside to catch up with the group on their own!”

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Chapter 828: Legendary Wizard

As a price for walking upright, humanity’s mobility is actually weakened. The third-level Alchemical Militia possessed a Resilient Physique and strength that rivaled a Bronze Knight. What was most praiseworthy was their stamina; they could run continuously for two days and one night while carrying heavy loads. However, their movement speed was only average, offering no advantage against the four-legged Ant-men.

Imoson the Wizard’s Aberrant Beasts discovered the Ant-men’s tracks in advance, a little over eighty kilometers from the expeditionary force’s temporary camp. For a clash between legions, such a short distance meant they were practically on top of each other. The Ant-man army could appear outside the camp in just two or three hours at most.

Without waiting for the outer sentries to return to camp, Charlotte immediately commanded the strong Alchemical militia to shoulder the packed supplies and move north through the forest at top speed. At their pace, they could cover fifty kilometers in an hour at most, which was far from enough to escape the danger.

Fortunately, the expeditionary force had discovered the Ant-men first, and it would likely take the Ant-men some extra time to find their temporary camp. Regardless of why the Ant-men were here, Charlotte held no illusions of being able to hide from them. The expeditionary force left behind too obvious a trail, especially Imoson the Wizard’s number one enforcer—Philip II. Its body was so massive that simply walking damaged the forest environment, making it impossible for the expeditionary force to hide.

Charlotte could only hope the Ant-man monsters would be slow to find the temporary camp, allowing the expeditionary force to get farther away. It would be best if they could first leave this strange forest swamp and see if the Ferocious Warriors’ psychic intuition would recover.

She held Bel in her arms, sharing a single Alchemical Dragon-Lizard, and whispered in the little wizard’s ear, “Bel, a huge swarm of monsters is coming to attack us. We have to cross this forest swamp first. You want us to get out of the swamp safely too, right?”

Bel was especially well-behaved at this moment. He nodded and said softly, “Yes, My Lady Charlotte. I hope we can leave this swamp.”

Fortune once again smiled upon the Randell Expeditionary Force. The party marched at full speed, spending the better part of a day crossing the mist-shrouded swamp and entering another dense, primeval forest. But this was not a good thing. The dense vegetation not only slowed the Randell Expeditionary Force’s march but also made their trail even more obvious.

After leaving the forest swamp, the Ferocious Warriors in the party regained their psychic intuition. As expected, the Ant-man monsters’ vanguard was trailing them from about forty kilometers behind.

Charlotte silently circulated her Aura, contemplating the situation and the necessary countermeasures. Riding on the back of a Dragon-Lizard, she calmly issued her orders, “Your Excellency Imoson, have Philip II clear a path in front. Have the aberrant cat-apes follow behind us through the canopy; it would be best if they can monitor the pursuers. We will keep moving without a moment’s rest. We’ll leverage the Sourceblood Warriors’ stamina advantage and try to shake off the main Ant-man swarm.”

The giant ape, over five meters tall, let out a deep, muffled roar. Its massive body crashed through the dense woods, plowing a path. The Randell Expeditionary Force followed Philip II, plunging into the low-lying thicket.

With Philip II clearing the way, the others focused on running. A day and a night passed. The Randell Expeditionary Force had traveled over eight hundred kilometers and entered a sparse woodland with more open terrain. The Alchemical militia still had strength to spare, yet Charlotte ordered the party to halt for a short rest.

In truth, the main force, composed of ordinary Ant-men, could run faster than the Randell Expeditionary Force. However, due to stamina issues, they had now fallen far behind the humans. At the very least, the Ferocious Warriors could no longer feel the threat from the main ant swarm, but the Ant-man vanguard still clung to their rear.

Through the aberrant cat-apes, Imoson the Wizard scouted that the number of trailers had increased from the initial five to fifteen. Among them were three special Ant-men with silver-white carapaces. Each of these special Ant-men was accompanied by four ordinary-looking ones.

Ordinary Ant-men couldn’t possibly keep up with the Randell Expeditionary Force. They were clearly powerful Ant-man chiefs!

The human kingdoms, especially the lords of the western territories of the Gambis Kingdom, had a rather deep understanding of Ant-men. Ant-man chiefs were classified as Silver-rank monsters. According to the Elven Empire’s life tier classification standards, they were innate fourth-tier creatures, on the same level as a berserk Ogre chief.

Ant-man chiefs had two combat modes. When they controlled two or three hundred ordinary Ant-men, their overall combat power was at its peak, but their personal fighting strength was weaker. When all the ordinary Ant-men were dead, the Silver-rank Ant-man chief would ignite its fire of the mind, possessing the greatest individual strength.

In either case, a Silver-rank Ant-man chief could catch up to the House of Randell’s third-level Source-Blood Militia and defeat most of the people in the force, including Charlotte.

Over a decade ago, Young Lady Gillian of the Chapman family had just been promoted to Silver Knight when she encountered two Ant-man chiefs returning to their nest. They hunted her relentlessly, and she nearly lost her life. Now, twelve Silver-rank Ant-man chiefs, following three unusual Ant-men, were tailing the expeditionary force. Their reluctance to attack meant they were likely waiting for more of their kind.

At this rate, the Ant-men would have the advantage in speed, stamina, and individual combat strength. If the expeditionary force kept running, they would likely lose their advantage in numbers and overall power as well.

However, the ordinary Ant-men controlled by the chiefs had all been left behind. This was precisely when the Silver Ant-men were at their weakest.

Charlotte decided to eliminate all the Ant-man vanguard trailing them, right here and now!

“I am leaving one Dragon-Lizard war beast and thirty Sourceblood Warriors. Macy, Tao De, you will take the rest of the people, protect Beldina, and keep running for another two hundred kilometers. Find a safe place to rest. If we haven’t caught up by noon, keep fleeing. With the Dragon-Lizard war beast’s speed, you should be able to shake off the Ant-man monsters for good.” Charlotte rested her hand on the hilt of her longsword as she instructed Macy, who was seated on a Dragon-Lizard.

When she said they could shake the Ant-man pursuers with the Dragon-Lizard war beast, she was actually implying they would have to abandon everyone on foot.

Macy, holding Beldina, nodded in response. “My Lady, please be careful. May the Supreme Lord of Radiance protect you. We’ll see you again.”

Once Macy and Tao De had led their group into the forest, Charlotte turned to face Imoson the Wizard, Father Dayn, and the Dragonkin handmaiden, Laila. She smiled gently and said, “Your Excellency Imoson, this battle will depend on you.”

Leaning against a large tree, the Wizard nodded confidently. “Rest assured, My Lady. Those dozen or so ants are all under my surveillance. Philip II and the aberrant cat-apes will tear them to pieces.”

Charlotte turned her beautiful emerald eyes to the priest and nodded respectfully. “Your Excellency Dayn, I must ask you to help His Excellency Imoson defeat his opponents.”

Dayn replied with calm composure, “Our Lord is always watching over us.”

“Sister, their Excellencies Imoson and Dayn will be casting spells here. I need you to intercept any Ant-men that slip through. From what I know, Ant-men are monsters with a strict hierarchy. The Silver-rank Ant-man chiefs control the ordinary Ant-men, and those three unusual ones might be Gold-rank Ant-men.” Charlotte said to the Dragonkin handmaiden.

Laila hefted her giant axe with one hand, her arrogance unchanged. “Just some annoying bugs. They pose a bit of a threat… I can go slaughter them right now!”

Charlotte shook her head and said gravely, “We don’t yet know what extraordinary powers those three special Ant-men possess. Let His Excellency Imoson’s aberrant war beasts take the lead for now. I will ask you to act when necessary.”

The red Dragonkin handmaiden snorted, indicating her obedience to the commander’s arrangements.

Seeing that the commander hadn’t given him any orders, Caligula cradled his warhammer, which weighed over three hundred pounds, and asked weakly, “My Lady, you… you forgot Aka.”

Charlotte gave him a beautiful smile and said, “Aka, Laila may have to take the offensive. You will be responsible for protecting us here.”

Hearing he only needed to stay put, Caligula immediately puffed out his chest and declared loudly, “Aka is the bravest warrior! Aka will protect My Lady Charlotte, Esteemed master Dayn, and Papa Bel!”

With everyone’s tasks assigned, Dayn took out the sacred object crystal gifted to him by Father Miller and walked toward the enormous aberrant ape. He said, “I will first cast a Healing Art on Philip II… Normally, Healing Art has a very short duration, and its effect on healing wounds varies from person to person. In fact, Healing Art stimulates the recipient’s self-healing ability, mobilizing their inner potential to mend wounds without harming their life potential. Therefore, the greater one’s life force, the better the effect and the longer the divine art lasts… With Philip II’s life force, the effect of Healing Art is equivalent to Extraordinary Regeneration, and it will last for about two hours.”

Father Dayn recited a prayer, and a platinum-gold sacred light surged into the body of the giant, berserk aberrant ape. A layer of platinum-gold light coated its blood-red eyes.

This was not the first time Dayn and Imosen had collaborated in spellcasting. Next, he buffed the Wizard with Heroism Art, Fire of the Mind, and Sacred Protection.

All of Imosen’s attributes increased by thirty percent, and he temporarily ignited the fire of his mind, allowing him to overcome fear and pain. These effects were then fed back to Philip II through Wisdom Guidance.

Now, with its fire of the mind ignited, the berserk aberrant ape was a true Legendary-rank giant beast!

Hei was a high-ranking ant. It led its four low-ranking guard ants, trailing the human party to provide a direction for the War Ant King, Apollis, to pursue. As a highly intelligent Ant-man, Hei and the other two high-ranking guard ants could tell that the human party was too dangerous for them to handle. They maintained a certain distance, waiting for the swarm’s high-end combatants to gather. Only then would they surround and kill the humans ahead, like a pack of wolves tearing apart their prey, and capture the little girl the swarm’s sovereign needed—Beldina.

Until then, Hei would not act rashly, but the cat-ape beasts that frequently appeared in the canopy were exceptionally irritating. These agile beasts were clearly the humans’ claws. All of Hei’s and its companions’ movements, including their location, were exposed to the human side.

Hei had killed the monsters in the trees with its short javelin multiple times, but retrieving the javelin was rather troublesome, so it stopped wasting energy on such insignificant creatures. This time, however, a half-cat, half-ape monster let out a piercing shriek at Hei. More and more of the creatures appeared in the surrounding trees. Hei instinctively felt danger approaching, and a moment later, it found it.

Trees ahead began to snap and break, the sound of their crowns crashing to the ground unable to conceal the earth’s tremor. A large tree flew through the air like a powerful javelin, growing larger and larger in Hei’s eyes. The high-ranking ant shot forward more than ten meters. Boom! The thick, sturdy tree trunk slammed into Hei’s previous position. Two of the low-ranking guard ants were slightly too slow and were sent flying by the shockwave.

Hei had no time to look back. A gigantic ape monster was descending from the sky, its shadow blotting out the sun like a spectre of death. Hei’s mind stretched taut. The fear of death drove it to dodge the giant beast’s heavy stomp with the fastest speed of its life, but in the next second, a muscular arm swept over, swatting the high-ranking ant like a fly and sending it flying dozens of meters away, snapping several trees in its path.

The high-ranking guard ant’s psionic force field protected Hei from the damaging sweep. It looked up for only a moment before bolting toward its companions without hesitation.

The four low-ranking guard ants were fearless. The Ant-kin’s Mental Link made them pounce on the giant berserk ape simultaneously. The ape used its hands and feet to blast one apart, hammer another flat, and trample a third to death, while grabbing the last one and stuffing it into its bloody maw to be chewed into a pulp.

With just one series of attacks, all the low-ranking guard ants were dead!

Its opponent crushed it in size, strength, and speed, and even in combat skill… If Hei didn’t run in a situation like this, it wouldn’t deserve to be called a high-ranking ant.

The psionic force field enveloped the high-ranking ant’s body, greatly reducing air resistance. Its four legs pumped in the most efficient way possible. Hei fled for its life at lightning speed, but this brought it no sense of security.

Normally, after the low-ranking guard ants died, Hei, as their superior commander, should have been able to temporarily draw upon their Soul Fire to strengthen its own Spirit attribute and psionic power. However, Hei didn’t receive any Soul Fire from its subordinate ants at all. It had no time to ponder the reason why. Using its Mental Link, it sent a distress signal to its nearby companions, requesting they dispatch their low-ranking guard ants to slightly delay the giant berserk ape. Even being used as fodder was better than being killed by the giant ape itself.

Among high-ranking ants, there were generally no compulsory relationships, but the deep bond between them prompted Hei’s two companions to respond quickly. They led their subordinate ants to converge on Hei’s position, exchanging information and reaching an agreement to fight the giant ape together.

Victor had originally tasked Imosen with cultivating a Mountain Ape aberrant beast for two reasons. One, the similar body structure between apes and humans would be beneficial for Imosen to fully utilize his Wisdom Guidance wizardry. Two, Victor hoped Imosen would model it after the white apes and cultivate a terrifying, giant aberrant beast.

White apes are a hegemon-class Legendary giant beast. With pure strength alone, they can go head-to-head with Dragons and Hydra Lizards.

Dragons dominate the skies, Hydra Lizards rule the swamps, and white apes rampage across the land!

Philip II was far inferior to a true giant white ape, but Imoson’s Wisdom Guidance, combined with its own primal instincts, granted it two mental states that were both separate and unified—wisdom and a bloodthirsty nature. This ignited its fire of the mind, allowing it to fully unleash all its potential.

Without Imoson’s Wisdom Guidance, Philip II would be just an ordinary Giant Aberration. But now, before the Wizard’s extraordinary power wore off, not even a high-ranking guard ant with Gold-rank strength would be enough to fight Philip II.

Its companions were rushing over. Their figures were clearly reflected in Hei’s pupils. This was the last thing it ever saw.

A pair of giant, clawed hands clapped down on the high-ranking guard ant from behind. The psionic force field blocked the giant ape’s terrifying and tyrannical power. Philip II immediately let out a shrill howl, changing its grip from a squeeze to a grasp. It seized the guard ant’s body and twisted with all its might.

The psionic force field distorted for a moment, and the high-ranking guard ant’s tough body, impervious to blades, was twisted into a pretzel by the Giant Aberration.

Chapter 829: The “Moved” Ant King

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Hei’s body was tougher than imaginable. Philip II’s muscles rippled as he unleashed his full strength, yet he failed to twist it apart. Even so, numerous cracks spread across the high-ranking ant’s silver-white carapace, and blue blood sprayed out like a fountain. The aberrant ape’s eyes flared with red light. It stuffed the mangled but still-breathing Hei into its mouth, its two tusks, which grew horizontally like a pair of great mandibles, chewing the high-ranking ant into a pulp, as if it were a ragged cloth.

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Absorbing the Bloodline Law from fresh flesh and blood was the strongest instinct of a Biological Aberration. Philip II was not truly a Biological Aberration, but he was still influenced by this instinct.

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While the berserk giant ape was devouring Hei, the other two high-ranking ants unhesitatingly harvested the Soul Fire of the lower-ranking guard ants. Eight Silver-rank Ant-man chiefs died on the spot, and the high-ranking guard ants’ Soul Fire intensity and psionic power were greatly enhanced. The effect would last for about ten hours, after which the lower-ranking guard ants’ Soul Fire could return to the ant swarms.

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Joe was now the closest high-ranking ant to Philip II. He knew from the psionic network that this terrifying giant beast was beyond his ability to defeat, but he was fearless. He opened his psionic force field to protect himself and charged at Philip II.

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Joe’s charge was as swift as lightning, his movements as light as the wind. He deftly dodged the berserk giant ape’s one-handed grab, passed under its crotch, and used his sharp metal fist blades to slice at the sinew on the inside of the ape’s thigh. But Philip II’s limbs were equally agile. His left hand grabbed at empty air, but he used the momentum to flip over, not only evading the high-ranking ant’s attack but also seizing his prey with a foot that was as nimble as a hand.

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However, Joe’s psionic force field was exceptionally slippery. Before the berserk giant ape could completely lock him down, he slipped away in the nick of time, like a fish flicking its tail.

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Having missed twice in a row, Philip II performed an incredible maneuver. The foot that had missed its target was now curled into a fist. It flicked a toe at the high-ranking ant, and the air vibrated with a thunderous crack. Joe’s psionic force field rippled like water; the high-ranking ant had actually been sent flying by the berserk giant ape with a single toe.

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The berserk giant ape was over 5.6 meters tall and weighed more than eight tons, yet such a colossal creature could execute attacks that were both powerful and incredibly precise. Its combat skills once again redefined Joe’s understanding. However, Philip II’s attack did not harm the high-ranking ant. Instead, Kui, the other high-ranking ant, charged from behind and landed a vicious slash, opening a bloody gash on its rear that was already healing at a visible rate.

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Philip II let out a roar that echoed through the forest and unleashed a flurry of savage blows on the “delicious fresh meat” that had wounded him. He stirred his vast inner potential, his muscle power moving in a nearly seamless flow, each punch carrying the force to shatter mountains. Kui was like a small boat in a raging storm, in constant danger of being smashed to pieces.

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In truth, as long as a high-ranking ant was not caught or pinned down by the berserk giant ape, it wouldn’t be seriously injured even if blasted away by a punch. Protected by his psionic force field and relying on his temporarily boosted Spirit attribute, Kui employed his dodging skills at a superhuman level. But he was at a disadvantage in terms of speed, and his destruction seemed imminent.

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Just then, the high-ranking ant Joe charged back in to draw the berserk giant ape’s attacks away from his companion. Communicating through the psionic network, the two high-ranking ants cooperated seamlessly, luring Philip II toward the southern side of the open woodland.

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A smile uncannily similar to Imosen’s suddenly appeared on Philip II’s face. It took several of Joe’s attacks, focusing solely on pummeling the high-ranking ant Kui. More than twenty aberrant cat-apes pounced from the treetops, their eyes glinting with a bloodthirsty red light. They fearlessly swarmed Joe, desperately trying to prevent him from aiding his comrade.

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A dozen or so seconds later, Kui was beaten into the ground. Philip II followed up with several more punches, smashing him into an unrecognizable pile of minced meat.

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The sole remaining high-ranking ant, Joe, had just finished slaughtering the aberrant cat-apes, which were more ferocious than leopards. Without a backward glance, he fled swiftly to the south. Philip II’s left leg was severely injured. Although the wound was healing rapidly, he couldn’t catch up to his prey for the time being. Following his Master’s guidance, Philip II made the correct choice: he turned back to devour the flesh of the aberrant cat-apes and the lower-ranking guard ants to replenish his life force and speed up his recovery.

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In this battle, Imosen the Wizard had guided his Giant Aberration to kill twelve Silver-rank Ant-men and two Gold-rank high-ranking ants. According to the experience of fighting the Ant-man plague in the Centaur Hills, the elimination of twelve Silver Ant-men would cause the ordinary Ant-men to lose control and start killing one another, effectively dealing with more than two thousand ordinary Ant-men at once.

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The Ant-man pursuers should now be severely crippled. For some time, they would not dare to send vanguards to track the human expedition again. The Randell Expeditionary Force had achieved its Combat Objective. From now on, they just needed to continue using this tactic to ensure the safety of all its members.

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Just as Imosen was preparing to recall Philip II, a cyan figure shot out from the dense woods to the south like a stream of light, heading straight for the terrifying, ferocious giant ape beast.

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At the same time, the red Dragonkin handmaiden, who had been hibernating in the treetops, suddenly leaped to Charlotte’s side. Her gaze was fixed in the direction of Philip II, and her ruby-like, crystal-clear eyes had transformed into draconic vertical pupils. She said grimly, “A very powerful one has arrived…”

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The War Ant King Apollis’s entire body was covered in a cyan, shell-like skin that was smooth, tough, and elastic. If the carapace of a high-ranking ant was plate armor, then his natural armor was a fine leather cuirass. Although its defense was somewhat lacking, its flexibility far surpassed that of the high-ranking ants. Coupled with his humanoid body structure, Apollis could perform movements impossible for a high-ranking ant.

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With Apollis’s spiritual strength, even a simple movement could be executed to perfection. As a result, the Ant King’s speed and agility were several times greater than a high-ranking ant’s. He charged at full speed, appearing before the berserk giant ape in an instant. The muscles in his legs swelled as he stomped forcefully on the ground, leaping more than ten meters into the air to pounce on his opponent.

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Philip II assumed a charging posture, his sinewy body like a fully drawn bow. His clenched right fist shot out ferociously, the force of the punch creating a thunderous roar as it tore through the air. The bone-plated fist struck Apollis squarely.

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The War Ant King was sent flying backward even faster than he had charged, crashing through countless low trees and shrubs, leaving a trail of churning dust in the dense forest.

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Apollis rose from the debris and dust, his natural armor spotless. His indifferent eyes shone with a soul-stirring light. The berserk giant ape’s incomparable power had stirred a flicker of emotion in the War Ant King’s cold heart, a single flame that swiftly ignited his soul.

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Like a moth drawn to a flame, the War Ant King repeatedly charged the berserk giant ape and was repeatedly knocked away. In the clash of power, his long-suppressed emotions found an outlet. He roared with laughter, nimbly dodging every one of the berserk giant ape’s grabs, enduring only its overwhelming strikes.

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A dozen high-ranking ants with silver-white carapaces appeared on the battlefield, watching dumbfounded as their king was repeatedly pummeled by the berserk giant ape. A normal high-ranking ant would have had its psionic force field shattered by now, beaten to a pulp. Yet Apollis seemed completely unharmed after taking so many heavy blows. His own psionic power was simply unfathomable, inspiring immense awe in the high-ranking guard ants.

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The high-ranking guard ants possessed autonomous intelligence; they were not mindless, lower-ranking ants. A very strong emotional bond existed between them and the Ant-man queen, serving as an unbreakable link. Apollis had killed the Ant-man queen who birthed him and seized her authority. The high-ranking guard ants felt no love for the War Ant King, only awe. In other words, the War Ant King’s control over the high-ranking guard ants was one-way, whereas the emotional bond between the queen and her guards had been two-way. This was the difference between the War Ant King and the Ant-man queen.

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Even though Apollis was being thrown around the battlefield by the giant ape, he did not command the high-ranking ants to help him, and the guards did not dare to offer their assistance.

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Through Philip II’s eyes, Imosen realized the situation had become dire. The Giant Aberration had been injured in defeating the three Gold-rank Ant-men. Now, he faced eleven Gold-rank Ant-men, plus this humanoid monster that Philip II could neither catch nor kill. If the battle dragged on, it would likely be Philip II who died.

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Imosen began to consider retreating. He guided the Giant Aberration to swing a massive slap at the strange Ant-man lunging at him again, intending to knock his opponent away and immediately flee.

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However, Philip II’s slap missed.

The War Ant King clung to the berserk giant ape’s arm and spoke in an ancient tongue Imosen could not understand, “I have felt your power, and I admit I am not your equal. Now, let’s see if you can catch me.”

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This kind of close-quarters contact was extremely dangerous for both combatants. If Philip II could grab the Ant King, he could prevent it from dispersing the force of his blows and crush it to death. But based on the power level of a Gold-rank Ant-man, Imosen deduced that the Ant King could also strike Philip II’s vital points and inflict fatal damage. For example, if it smashed the Giant Aberration’s head, even the power of Extraordinary Regeneration would be useless.

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Philip II sensed the warning of danger from his Master. He roared repeatedly, thrashing his arm, rolling his body, and using both hands and feet to grab the opponent stuck to him, but nothing worked.

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Like a gecko, Apollis clung to Philip II’s body, constantly shifting his position. Despite all the berserk giant ape’s efforts, it simply could not catch him.

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“Your agility is no match for mine… You wanted to catch me, didn’t you? Then I’ll let you catch me. Let’s see if you can kill me,” Apollis said in a flat tone, though his expression was one of extreme excitement. He voluntarily released his grip, his body falling freely.

“

“

The berserk giant ape clapped its hands together, clasping the War Ant King in its palms.

“

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“My King!”

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“

Seeing the muscles on the giant ape’s shoulders and back bulge, and the terrifying force erupting between its palms causing Apollis’s psionic shield to constantly distort, the high-ranking guard ants surged forward. They intended to kill the giant ape together and rescue the War Ant King from its grasp.

“

“

“None of you shall interfere with my battle!” Apollis barked, halting the high-ranking guard ants. The four patterns on his chest lit up one by one with a brilliant white light. His psionic force field pushed back against the berserk giant ape’s massive hands and began to expand outward.

“

“

This was a head-on clash between Ant-man psionic energy and peak physical strength. There were no tricks, only pure violence.

“

“

Apollis gradually gained the upper hand. The surface of his psionic shield stopped distorting and stabilized, pushing the berserk giant ape’s palms apart, leaving only two concave handprints. Philip II’s bones and sinews crackled and popped, and thick veins surfaced all over his body. He was already using his full strength but could not stop the psionic shield from pushing him back. The War Ant King was now suspended between his palms.

“

“

I’m going to lose. Throw him away and flee to the east… Imosen the Wizard’s guidance became Philip II’s thought. It let out a sky-shaking-roar, changed the angle of its force from squeezing to throwing, and hurled the Ant King in its hands forward with all its might.

“

“

The psionic force field did not support flight. Apollis was thrown diagonally into the air by the berserk giant ape, flying backward for nearly 700 meters. By the time he landed, the cunning berserk giant ape had already fled far away.

“

“

Apollis said nothing, his legs set in a lunge as he prepared to pursue his opponent. The high-ranking ant Joe spoke up, “My King, the sovereign’s mission for us is to capture the human girl, Beldina. She should be with the human expedition, to our north. This giant monster fled to the east. It may be trying to lure you away to buy time for the human team to hide.”

“

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Apollis said coldly, “You don’t understand the beauty of life… This battle has moved me. When I kill this berserk giant ape with my own hands, I will become even stronger!”

“

“

“

Four days later, that morning, Victor stood beside the battered corpse of Philip II, lost in quiet contemplation.

“

“

The Raging Wind Sword Saint’s extraordinary power and fame had overshadowed Victor’s Light of Wisdom. Few people understood that his invincibility relied mainly on his outstanding intellect and vast knowledge, not just on his Saint realm power.

“

“

The devastated battlefield stretched for over 300 kilometers. X-3 had collected both obvious and subtle traces, helping Victor reconstruct the entire battle and allowing him to see deeper mysteries.

“

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Overall, Imosen the Wizard and Father Dayn had lost. The Giant Aberration, even with the support of Miller’s divine arts, had still lost to a Saint realm opponent.

“

“

Victor could not yet be certain that it was the War Ant King, but the possibility was high. It was a humanoid monster with a tail, and it had entered Victor’s field of vision without realizing it. Victor now knew its height, physical characteristics, power and agility levels, and extraordinary abilities. What amazed Victor the most was its learning ability. Despite being born with the strength to overwhelm Philip II, it had continuously perfected its combat techniques through the fight with the Giant Aberration, and its use of extraordinary power had also shown very clear improvement.

“

“

Now, Victor was in no hurry to find Charlotte and the others. In fact, with Philip II dead, the team led by Charlotte had already collapsed. They couldn’t outrun or defeat a pursuing force composed of the War Ant King and eleven Gold-rank Ant-men. Their only choice was to scatter and flee, just as Goblins would scatter in all directions when faced with an unbeatable enemy, each to its own fate. This would leave the enemy at a loss. The stronger and luckier Goblins would survive, while the weak would become victims. If the enemy wanted to completely annihilate the entire group of Goblins, it would take a much longer time.

“

“

By the same token, it would take Victor a great deal of time to gather the expeditionary force. The alchemical creatures in the force were all expendable. As for Beldina, the young lady had her own luck aura; she wouldn’t be caught by the War Ant King so easily.

“

“

Victor’s Tracking Intuition had already locked onto the Ant King and the eleven Gold-rank Ant-men. Dealing with them would not be difficult, but Victor had not forgotten his true opponent: the Ant-man Empress Regnant, the Mage Angelina from the Alchemical Empire.

“

“

Most importantly, through the battle between Philip II and the War Ant King, Victor had discovered a major flaw in the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower.

“

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…The War Ant King and the Gold Ant-men all possesed independent thought. They were incompatible with the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower, which meant the Ant-man Empress Regnant’s control over the ant swarms was flawed!

“

Victor’s fingertip traced the smooth, rounded surface of the Soul Rend spiked whip. As if speaking to himself, but also to his three Dragonkin handmaidens, he said, “First, let’s go south and check on the main force of the ant swarms… Imosen took out twelve Silver-rank Ant-man chiefs. The cannon fodder Ant-men they controlled should have killed one another and be dead by now.”

“

“

“If those ordinary Ant-men aren’t dead, then things will get interesting…”

“

“

Chapter 830: The Little Wizard’s Trial

In a certain part of the Endless Forest.

The Alchemical Dragon-Lizard charged headfirst into a dense thicket of shrubs. Macy swung her longsword, the bright flash of her blade shredding the resilient, thorny branches to prevent them from lashing Beldina, whom she held tight in her arms. The branches scraped noisily across the Dragon-Lizard’s body. Although Macy and the two fifth-level Source-Blood Militia, Reno and Shak, shielded Bel, a few thorns still managed to whip her. Two or three stinging scratches appeared on her thighs where her leather armor was thinnest. Yet, the young lady didn’t make a sound, burying her head in Macy’s embrace.

Before long, the Dragon-Lizard’s massive body finally broke through the thicket. The view opened up before them, but their path was blocked by a rushing forest river.

A herd of wild boars playing by the riverbank looked over curiously. The moment they saw the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard, they squealed in terror and scattered, fleeing for their lives back into the forest.

Tao De, who sat at the very back of the saddle, was the first to jump off the Dragon-Lizard’s back onto the pebble-strewn shore. He looked exhausted, but his eyes were still bright. After surveying his surroundings, his wary expression relaxed slightly. He nodded and said, “We’ve finally found a forest river.”

The Alchemical militia, Reno, ordered the Dragon-Lizard war beast to lie down. Macy, carrying Beldina, dismounted. She glanced back at the path the Dragon-Lizard had cleared through the bushes, then at the surging river. Sighing, she asked, “Are we crossing now?”

Tao De thought for a moment, then shook his head. “If there’s no immediate danger, we should probably wait for ‘White Bread’ and the Savage Warhounds. They should be catching up soon.”

“I don’t sense any danger nearby for now. Let’s rest here for a bit.” Macy handed Bel to the Alchemical militia, Shak, and walked to the river’s edge alone. She cupped some icy water to wash her parched face, her brows furrowed as she spoke in a low, dispirited voice, “I wonder how Anya and the others are doing.”

Two days ago, the expeditionary force had encountered a terrifyingly powerful enemy. Even the Aberrant Giant Ape meticulously raised by Imosen the Wizard was no match for it and could only lure it away for the time being. Lady Charlotte had ordered the expeditionary force to disperse. Aside from the core members of the team, everyone else, including the sword-wielding handmaidens, broke into groups of three and fled.

Macy and Tao De had formed a team with Beldina, Reno, and Shak. They had ridden a Dragon-Lizard war beast without rest for two days, covering more than sixteen hundred kilometers. Meanwhile, Macy and Tao De’s four sword-wielding handmaidens had to flee on foot with the family’s elite warriors.

After spending so much time together, Macy had grown fond of the handmaidens who had taken such good care of her. While they were reasonably skilled, they were among the weaker members of the group. Once the expeditionary force scattered, the sword-wielding handmaidens and craftsmen were the most vulnerable.

However, there was nothing wrong with Lady Charlotte’s arrangements. A Dragon-Lizard war beast could carry at most six people, so it couldn’t accommodate all the weaker members. Besides, the Dragon-Lizard had incredible stamina and astonishing speed, capable of running continuously at sixty kilometers per hour for two days even in a forest environment. An ordinary rider simply wouldn’t last that long and would be thrown off midway.

Tao De, who had been sitting behind Macy the whole time, now felt his face had been chapped tight by the wind until it was completely numb. He squatted by the river, splashed water on his cheeks, and said, “Dispersing into groups of three leaves smaller tracks and makes it easier to hide. We’re riding a Dragon-Lizard war beast, which leaves a much more obvious trail and is more likely to draw the enemy’s pursuit… Don’t worry, Anya and the others will be fine.”

“In fact, Lady Charlotte and the others taking the other two Dragon-Lizard war beasts was also a way to draw the enemy away from us.”

Macy paused, then forced a smile. “Her Ladyship has Your Excellency Imosen and Father Dayn with her, as well as Lady Laila and Aka. With their strength, we don’t need to worry about them.”

Tao De managed a faint smile in return and nodded. “If we could find this big river, Her Ladyship’s group should be able to as well. Dragon-Lizard war beasts are excellent swimmers. Later, we’ll build a raft and have the Dragon-Lizard pull us upstream to find a suitable place to land… The river will hide the Dragon-Lizard’s tracks. Once we slip into the forest on the other side, it will be very difficult for the Ant-man pursuers to find us again.”

Macy stood up and said, “Alright, let’s build a raft first. As soon as it’s done, we’ll cross the river. If the Savage Warhounds haven’t arrived by then, we won’t wait.”

Hearing Macy say she was going to leave “White Bread” and the Savage Warhounds behind, Beldina, who was not far away, immediately became upset. “No, I want to wait for ‘White Bread’ and the big dogs…”

“Bel, now is not the time to be willful,” Tao De said, turning around with a hint of helplessness.

Macy shot Tao De a look, signaling him to go build the raft. She pulled Beldina aside and began to comfort her in a soft, soothing voice.

Tao De shook his head with a wry smile and led Reno and Shak into the forest by the riverbank. They selected straight, bowl-thick black birch trees as the main material for a simple raft. They then stripped the bark from flexible shrubs and twisted it into rope, using it to securely bind several dozen logs together. It didn’t take them long to finish building a raft.

Reno carried the raft to the riverbank on his own, and the others helped move their limited supplies onto it. When it was time to cross, the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard took the rope in its mouth, puffed up its body for extra buoyancy, and began paddling with its tail and semi-webbed claws, pulling the raft toward the center of the river.

The four adults each held a long pole, pushing against the riverbed to assist the Dragon-Lizard and prevent the raft from being swept off course by the swift current. Once the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard had pulled the raft to the middle of the river, it began to turn and head upstream. By this time, the Savage Warhounds had still not appeared.

Beldina hugged her knees, staring expectantly at the channel through the bushes, tears welling up in her eyes.

Macy reached out and stroked her small head, saying tenderly, “Darling, everything will be alright…”

Suddenly, a loud bark echoed from the woods. Bel shot to her feet, her eyes wide as she looked at the path on the shore. Three powerfully-built Savage Warhounds came rushing out, and the one in the lead was none other than her pet—White Bread.

“White Bread! And the big dogs! Hurry up, swim over!” Bel danced with joy on the raft, encouraging her beloved pet. The Alchemical Warhounds, receiving her command, unhesitatingly leaped into the water and began paddling toward the raft. White Bread ran further along the riverbank before also jumping into the river.

“Reno, Reno, have the Dragon-Lizard stop for a bit! ‘White Bread’ and the big dogs can’t swim fast!” the little wizard commanded the Alchemical militia.

“Yes.”

Reno obeyed Beldina’s command and instructed the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard to stop swimming. This rash action caused both the Dragon-Lizard and the raft to be swept downstream by the current. Seeing the Dragon-Lizard about to collide with the raft, Tao De and Macy’s faces turned pale with fright. They had no time to wonder why Reno had listened to Beldina’s foolish idea. They quickly used their long poles to push the raft away, narrowly avoiding being capsized by the war beast. In the process, both the raft and the Dragon-Lizard spun one hundred and eighty degrees, now heading downstream instead of up.

“Reno, how could you order the war beast to stop swimming against the current? Quick, have it turn left to change direction. We’ll stabilize the raft with the poles,” Tao De yelled, somewhat annoyed.

Realizing she had caused trouble, Bel quietly stuck out her tongue and ordered, “Reno, Reno, hurry, have the Dragon-Lizard turn around.”

The Alchemical Dragon-Lizard turned around again, and the three warhounds were pulled onto the raft one after another. The moment they were aboard, they shook their bodies, flinging water everywhere like rain. Beldina hugged “White Bread’s” neck and burst into happy laughter.

Looking at Beldina’s innocent, smiling face, Tao De’s gloom disappeared without a trace. The accumulated stress and fear from two days of desperate flight were washed away, and his mood suddenly became exceptionally bright. He couldn’t help but exchange a smile with Macy.

The next morning, the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard had pulled the raft over one hundred kilometers upstream. After getting Macy’s approval, Tao De chose a bend in the river as a place to dock.

The five of them and their war beasts disembarked onto the riverbank. They dismantled the raft, hid the logs in the dense forest, and carefully concealed their tracks on the shore before slipping into the forest. They moved through the trees without stopping until dusk, when Tao De finally called for a rest.

Just because Macy didn’t sense any danger nearby didn’t mean they were safe. The Ant-man vanguard had defeated Imosen the Wizard’s Aberrant Giant Ape. If Macy only detected the enemy when they were closing in, it would likely be too late. Tao De was cautious by nature. He forbade lighting a fire or building shacks, doing his best to avoid altering the environment and leaving obvious traces.

After they ate some journey rations and wild fruit, the exhausted Tao De arranged for Reno and Shak to take the first and second half of the night watch, respectively. He needed a good rest so he wouldn’t hold everyone back in the days to come, and Blood Python Macy, as the strongest in the group, needed to maintain her peak physical condition and vigor even more.

Beldina leaned against Macy’s side and asked softly, “Macy, are we lost?”

Macy’s just-relaxed mood felt as if it had been filled with mud, becoming heavy and listless. Even in the human kingdoms, being lost was a desperate situation. The Endless Forest was vast and boundless, filled with all sorts of beasts and monsters. While the five of them and their four war beasts had temporarily escaped the Ant-man vanguard, how were they to return to the human kingdoms? Forgetting about going home, even their survival in the Endless Forest was a serious challenge. Any day, they could run into a powerful beastman tribe or an unbeatable monster. The ooze monster lord in the Forest of Despair was a prime example.

For a Silver-rank Ferocious Warrior like Macy, survival in the hostile, dark forest was only possible through the strength of a group. She could barely protect herself; the situation for the small three-person teams that had fled separately would only be more dire. If the Randall Expeditionary Force couldn’t regroup soon, the scattered teams would quickly be swallowed by the Black Forest, including the several sword-wielding handmaidens Macy was concerned about. But she was helpless now. She couldn’t even find her companions. They were, indeed, lost.

Stroking Bel’s short hair, Macy murmured to herself, “Darling, I will protect you. I promise.”

By then, the young lady was already asleep.

In the middle of the night, Beldina heard someone calling her name by her ear. “Bel, Bel…” She struggled to open her eyes and saw a tiny fey with dragonfly wings hovering in front of her nose.

Bel rubbed her eyes and whispered in surprised delight, “Ah, a Flower Fey, you’ve come to play with me.”

“Bel wanted to see me, so I came. But I’m not here to play with you, because that wasn’t your thought,” the Flower Fey said softly, its wings buzzing.

“If Bel doesn’t want to play, then what is Bel thinking?” Beldina tilted her head, asking in confusion.

“Bel needs help. I am here to help you.”

“Bel needs help?” Beldina thought for a moment, then nodded with a hint of dejection. “Mhm, Bel wants to find Master Victor, and Aka, and Lady Charlotte… Papa, Father Dayn, and everyone… Bel is worried they’re lost, and that everyone will never find Bel again.”

“The Flower Fey can help Bel.”

“You?” Bel laughed, covering her mouth. “You’re just a little one, not even as strong as Bel. How can you help me?”

“Because I am a spirit.” The Flower Fey didn’t get angry at being mocked. It flew up and down, saying in a tiny voice, “My power is weak, but our power is great. I can’t grant Bel’s wish, but Bel can ask more spirits to help you. I will teach Bel how to communicate with the Spirits of All Things. Once you learn, you’ll be able to find your friends.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” The Flower Fey nodded emphatically, then flew to Beldina’s left ear and said, “There is a lonely Bear Spirit living in the forest ahead. I’ll take you to it. If you can learn its true name, it will help Bel from now on.”

Bel looked at the pitch-black forest, naturally feeling scared. She glanced down at the sleeping Macy, Tao De, and White Bread, and thought: It’s just a dream anyway, so what’s the harm in taking a look?

She lifted the animal hide blanket, quietly picked up her cloak, satchel, and a small dagger, and, under the Flower Fey’s guidance, walked deeper into the forest.

“My lady Beldina, where are you going?” The fifth-level Source-Blood Militia, Shak, stepped out from behind a large tree, blocking Bel’s path.

The little wizard jumped in fright and stammered, “Shak, aren’t you sleeping?”

“I’m on watch. I cannot sleep,” Shak said, shaking his head with a blank expression.

Bel studied the Alchemical militia with suspicion. Pointing to the Flower Fey perched on her shoulder, she asked, “You don’t see the Flower Fey?”

Shak carefully observed Bel’s shoulder, then shook his head again. “I do not.”

Beldina let out a sigh of relief, patting her little chest and muttering, “It really is a dream… Then it’s nothing. I’m going on an adventure in the forest. Mmm, to find a Bear Spirit and ask it to help me find Master.”

Shak recalled his Master’s directives. The Master’s authority was highest, followed by My lord Narsen and Lady Charlotte. However, the Master had not specified the authority of Macy and Tao De; they were merely temporary captains appointed by Lady Charlotte. Therefore, according to the protocols of the Will Side, Inspector Beldina’s authority was higher than that of Macy and Tao De. When her requests did not conflict with the Master’s orders, she was to be assisted.

The Alchemical militia asked, “My lady Beldina, do you require my company?”

Bel quickly asked the Flower Fey, “Can I bring Shak, and ‘White Bread’ with me?”

The Flower Fey flew a circle in front of Shak, then returned to Bel’s shoulder. “You can, but it will increase the difficulty of your Trial, because the Bear Spirit does not like them.”

“Oh, Shak, you don’t need to follow me,” Bel said, waving her little hand and giving the Alchemical militia an order.

“Yes.” Shak nodded respectfully and returned to the shadows to continue his watch.

Beldina skipped deeper into the Black Forest, asking the Flower Fey, “Why doesn’t the Bear Spirit like Shak?”

“Because they cannot see spirits, and spirits cannot see them.”

“Then why can you see Shak?”

“Bel wanted me to see him, so I saw him.”

“Then why can spirits see me?”

“Beldina is special… You will one day become the King of All Spirits.”

“Hee hee, I’m special. This dream is so much fun.”

“Bel, this isn’t purely a dream.”

“Hmph, I don’t believe you…”

The next morning, Macy’s eyes snapped open, and she sprang up from the ground in an instant. Her movement woke Tao De at the same time. They first looked at each other, then around. The Dragon-Lizard war beast, the Savage Warhounds, and Reno and Shak were all there. The only one missing was Beldina.

“Where’s Bel? Where did Bel go?” Macy roared at Shak like a tigress who had lost her cub, full of anxiety, completely disregarding that he was one of her Master’s confidant guards.

Shak’s tone was calm as he said, “Miss Beldina went out alone last night. She said a Flower Fey was taking her to find a Bear Spirit.”

“A Flower Fey? A Bear Spirit… What in the hell are those?!”

Macy froze for a second, then said furiously, “Why didn’t you stop her?! How could you let little Bel go out alone? Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Calm down, Macy, just calm down. Didn’t you notice that our conditions last night were not normal?” Tao De first stopped Macy’s outburst, then walked toward the two Source-blood Warriors and said grimly, “Shak, Reno, please tell me everything that happened last night, exactly as it occurred. I suspect some kind of extraordinary presence has plotted against us.”

Reno and Shak recounted the events of their watch in detail. After listening, Macy couldn’t help but complain, “Shak, you saw that something was wrong with Bel, why didn’t you stop her?”

Shak shook his head and said, “I could not.”

“What do you mean, you could not?” Tao De, seeing Macy about to erupt again, quickly interjected.

“No comment.”

Seeing the emotionless eyes of Shak and Reno, Tao De felt a chill in his heart and quickly said, “Alright, if this concerns the Master’s secrets, you don’t have to say.”

Tao De’s reminder finally calmed Macy down. She picked up her weapon and said in a heavy voice, “Bel can’t have gone far. We’ll find her now.”

The team of four tracked Bel’s footprints for about three kilometers. The impressions she left in the forest humus went from deep to shallow, then disappeared completely. Even the warhounds and the Dragon-Lizard couldn’t pick up her scent, and could only circle the area repeatedly.

Macy stared blankly at the surrounding trees, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the hilt of her sword. She muttered, “This is a trap. From that forest swamp, we fell into a trap…”

Tao De, who had been squatting on the ground, stood up and patted the humus from his hands. With a grave expression, he nodded and said, “It should be Jungle Stealth, an extraordinary ability the Master once mentioned… A few days ago, a very skilled spellcaster first blocked the psychic intuition of the Ferocious Warriors, then managed to lure the Ant-man monsters to the expeditionary force’s temporary camp. The Ant-man pursuers scattered our team. When it was just the four of us left with Bel, it seized the opportunity to abduct her and used Jungle Stealth to wipe away her tracks.”

With a thud, Macy plunged her longsword into the ground. “We’re making camp here!”

Tao De’s pupils constricted. “Why? That spellcaster can make us fall into a deep sleep, can blind the psychic intuition of Ferocious Warriors and Savage war beasts, and can even guide the Ant-man monsters. We can’t handle it. It will be very dangerous to stay here.”

Macy walked up to Tao De, stared into his eyes, and said through gritted teeth, “The spellcaster’s target is Bel, which means Bel is special. Now that we’ve lost her, even if I have to die here, I will make sure the Master can find this place! If this can help the Master rescue Bel, I am willing to accept any punishment.”

Tao De took a step back, gave Macy a solemn Knight’s salute, and said grimly, “Yes. Waiting here for our Master is the only thing we can do.”

Chapter 831: Laila Perishes

“Ancient Dragons possess a hindsight talent. If a ‘treasure’ they have marked is stolen from within their fief, they can know what happened at that moment, then lock onto the thief, hunt them to their death, and reclaim their treasure.”

As “the Dragon King’s treasure,” the little wizard had been marked by all four Dragonkin handmaidens. Although the handmaidens had not established a fief, they could still sense a vague location through this mark. The moment Beldina disappeared, she also vanished from the handmaidens’ talent-based perception.

Beldina’s importance to Victor was unquestionable, so the Dragonkin handmaidens informed their Master of the incident at once. However, Victor wasn’t overly anxious. He was certain Bel was not dead; otherwise, she would not have simply “vanished” from their senses. Since the situation was a “disappearance,” it was more likely that someone had erased or shielded the draconic marks on Beldina.

The little wizard’s origins were a mystery. Sylvia never got close to her nor commented on her, adopting an attitude of indifference, which in itself was telling. Victor, of course, understood the Spirit Knight’s hint. He had guessed that Beldina’s fate was far-reaching, involving a wrestling match between the Lord of Radiance and an evil god, and that Father Miller had laid a grand scheme around her.

Bel wouldn’t die so easily. She now needed time and space to trigger the changes in the Force of Destiny. If the Raging Wind Sword Saint had kept Beldina under tight control, the rebound from the Force of Destiny would have been even stronger, and might have even affected Victor himself.

Thus, Bel’s disappearance was both reasonable and unexpected. A series of coincidences must have created the conditions for her to go missing, the most crucial of which was the Raging Wind Sword Saint not being by her side.

Now that it had happened, Victor felt a sense of relief. He wasn’t worried that the changes in Bel would be detrimental to him. Given His Highness Randell’s current standing, the fate of the human kingdoms was tightly entangled with his, and the ancient elven Empire also had ties to him. Whether it was an evil god or the Lord of Radiance, attempting to meddle with Victor’s destiny would come at a heavy price.

From a practical standpoint, the worst-case scenario was that Victor would take the final step and transform into a Sun Elf. With the precedents of Sword Saint Draven and the Ironmountain Empress, Victor believed that before Sylvia perished, the Sun Tree would not be able to so easily assimilate his self-awareness.

In short, Victor was full of confidence in himself and did not believe he would perish in the coming conflict. But the same could not be said for others.

However, you train an army for a thousand days to use it in a single moment. By bringing all his carefully cultivated confidants, Victor was already psychologically prepared to face sacrifices. Take Narsen, for instance. Victor hadn’t originally planned to bring him, but he had insisted on joining the team. Narsen had only just advanced to the Gold rank, and now his fate was unknown. But once embroiled in a conflict of this level, even Gold-rank powerhouses would struggle to protect themselves; it was hardly a surprise. If Narsen hadn’t joined the expedition, perhaps Klaus, Brandon, Red Wolf, and Rogers would not have been plunged into danger either.

Victor could only sigh that the price for a Ferocious warrior to advance to the Gold rank on his own was too great. Fate was truly wondrous and strange.

In any case, Victor had to take action regarding Beldina’s mysterious disappearance. He ordered the Dragonkin handmaiden Mewen to head to the location of the incident immediately.

In truth, the Dragonkin handmaiden Laila was closer to where Bel had disappeared, but she currently had her hands full. After confirming the actual state of the Ant-man main force, Victor led two Dragonoid raiders to support Laila.

“Do you think you can escape?”

The War Ant King’s grayish-green figure flickered in and out of sight in the woods as it called out to the Dragonoid Laila in the ancient common tongue. “I have no interest in weak humans, but my patience is limited. Stop and fight me, or I’ll kill your companions first.”

Clad in Thorium armor, Charlotte lay flat on the back of a galloping Dragon-Lizard war beast. The rushing wind made it impossible to see her surroundings or hear clearly, but she knew the war beast couldn’t shake off this terrifying monster. Yet, if they stopped to fight now, the Ant-man vanguards with their silver carapaces would soon catch up.

Whether they chose to continue fleeing or make a last-ditch stand, it was a hopeless situation. Despair had already filled Charlotte’s heart, but the rationality and willpower of a senior knight made her choose the most correct option in this dire strait—Laila and Caligula were exceptionally powerful and had a chance to escape. The rest, including Charlotte herself, would stay behind to hold off the Ant-man pursuers, buying time for Laila and Caligula.

Just as Charlotte was about to give the order, the Dragonkin handmaiden Laila suddenly leaped high into the air mid-sprint, landing gracefully on the branch of an ancient tree. Charlotte paled in alarm, quickly halting the team and urging her Dragon-Lizard war beast back. She saw Laila’s exquisite figure bobbing up and down with the swaying branch, her majestic draconic vertical pupils fixed on the humanoid monster that had landed on a large tree opposite her.

Laila had acted on her own, and from her posture, it seemed she was preparing for a pitched battle with the monster right here. Charlotte didn’t understand why Laila would do this, but she still gave the order with great resolve:

“Prepare for battle!”

“You all go first. I’ll stay and finish it,” Laila said, raising the giant axe in her hand and pointing at the humanoid monster. She added, “This is My King’s will.”

Charlotte was both shocked and overjoyed, but she calmly realized that it would take time for Victor to arrive. Laila would try to delay this exceptionally powerful monster, and while they might be able to help by staying, it was more likely they would be caught and surrounded by the rest of the Ant-man vanguard. The disparity in strength was too great; their small group would probably not last until His Highness Randell’s reinforcements arrived.

“Alright, let’s go.” The female knight wasted no words, immediately ordering the Dragon-Lizard war beasts to turn around and continue fleeing.

Father Dayn, who had strapped himself into the Dragon-Lizard’s saddle, was on the verge of throwing up from the jolting, but he still freed a hand to use Miller’s Holy Crystal and cast the most classic fifth-tier divine art—Sacred Protection—on the Dragonkin handmaiden.

The War Ant King, Apollis, had been sizing up the heavy, long-handled warhammer-wielding Caligula with interest, but the Dragonkin handmaiden Laila’s suddenly intensified Fearful Gaze pressed down on its mind like a massive boulder. Apollis was forced to divert some of its mental willpower to resist Laila’s Dragon’s Might and could no longer look around. Yet, a fanatical cruelty shone in its eyes. It grinned, revealing stark white teeth, and said, “Killing you will make me even stronger.”

Alexia responded in the language of the ancient Alchemical Empire, “Vile insect, I will burn you to ashes!”

“Haha, then let’s see you try.”

Crack! The War Ant King shattered a branch thicker than its thigh, shooting like an arrow from a bowstring towards the Dragonoid standing on the opposite tree.

The psionic force field coiled around its front greatly reduced air resistance. Apollis’s mid-air pounce was so fast it was a blur, like a hazy shadow arriving before its opponent in an instant. But in Laila’s eyes, its movements were clear and slow, every detail of its body reflected in her vertical pupils.

A stunning yet fatal arc of light suddenly flashed before Laila, intersecting with the War Ant King’s blurred figure. The Dragonoid let out a muffled grunt, her slender war boots snapping the branch as her back slammed into the main trunk of the great tree. The ancient tree, which would take three people to encircle, could not withstand such a terrifying impact. Spiderweb-like cracks spread across the trunk, and it could no longer support its heavy crown. With a sickening creak, it broke and collapsed, kicking up a huge cloud of dust.

Countless falling leaves and splintered wood chips filled the air. The Ant King Apollis’s speed didn’t decrease in the slightest as it fled straight ahead in a panic. The Dragonoid Rager was the second strong enemy Apollis had encountered since its birth. Its only prior experience was fighting the berserk giant ape, but the moment they clashed, the female Dragonoid had dealt it a heavy blow.

The massive Philip II was unmatched in brute strength. Apollis had used its psionic energy to adapt to the berserk giant ape’s power and fighting style, but that same method was ineffective against the Dragonoid Rager.

The Dragonoid’s Dynamic Vision talent, combined with Lightning Reflexes, was a perfect counter to agile enemies. Smaller, faster opponents would be hit by Laila; larger, slower ones would still be hit by her. Laila’s strength was far less than Philip II’s, but she concentrated her power into her sharp axe blade, giving it an armor-piercing capability that the berserk giant ape could never hope to match. Thus, the psionic shield that could withstand the berserk giant ape was shattered by a single swing of Laila’s axe. The crescent-shaped blade left a deep, long gash in Apollis’s natural carapace.

Fortunately, the psionic force field had briefly blocked Laila’s lightning-fast chop, which was the only reason Apollis hadn’t been cut in two. Ultimately, the War Ant King’s agility and strength were superior to the Dragonoid Rager’s. Even with the Sacred Protection buff increasing all her base attributes by thirty percent, Laila was still slightly weaker than Apollis. Moreover, the Ant King’s psionic force field was ever-changing. It altered its movements in mid-air, kicking Laila away before using psionic energy to clamp down on its wound and flee for its life.

Laila, possessing the bloodline of an ancient red dragon, had a fiery and irritable temperament. Being kicked by her opponent sent her into an uncontainable rage. With a flick of her delicate hand, she straightened the bent and deformed giant axe blade and turned to chase the fleeing Ant King.

Apollis had its psionic force field to help it accelerate and change direction; the Dragonoid Rager truly couldn’t catch it. After its wound had self-healed, Apollis attempted to engage Laila in close combat. But the Dragonoid’s Dynamic Vision and Lightning Reflexes were nearly unbeatable. In close-quarters combat, Apollis was completely suppressed by Laila.

Two figures crisscrossed through the forest, sharp flashes of light appearing and disappearing. The sound of turbulent air was sometimes as sharp as tearing silk, sometimes as dull as rolling thunder. Accompanied by the cracking and falling of great trees, the enraged shouts of the Dragonoid raider and the maniacal laughter of the War Ant King scared away all nearby beasts and birds, and also attracted twelve high-ranking ants with silver carapaces.

In truth, the fact that Laila had failed to kill Apollis meant she had already fallen to a disadvantage in the battle. The War Ant King possessed an outstanding learning talent, able to adapt to different fighting styles, while its psionic force field provided it with a solid defense.

In terms of pure defensive effect, Apollis’s psionic shield was not as good as the Manticore’s layered, endless water element armor—at the very least, the psionic shield did not provide full-body defense—but the psionic force field was infinitely versatile, and Apollis could utilize it for various purposes.

In its fight with Philip II, it had learned to use the psionic force field to counter extreme violence and to change direction in mid-air, granting it an incredible mobility that even the Aberrant Giant Ape, with its fire of the mind ignited, could not hit head-on.

These two abilities were ineffective against the Dragonoid Rager, so in its fight with Laila, Apollis learned a psionic technique specifically to counter Lightning Reflexes—Force Field Deflection.

The wounds on Apollis’s body became fewer and shallower. Laila swung a vicious, cold blade of light, striking directly at the top of Apollis’s head, only to have it deflected aside by the psionic shield. Apollis shifted like a phantom, seizing the opportunity to flash to Laila’s side and rip off her giant axe, along with her entire arm.

It grasped the enemy’s severed limb and leaped back more than twenty meters, evading the Dragonoid Rager’s counterattack. Landing lightly on the ground, it said with regret, “Is this your limit? I will kill you momentarily, then go after that tall human. I hope he can give me a satisfying battle like you did.”

The Dragonoid Rager’s vertical pupils stared coldly at the Ant King. A drop of scorching blood fell from the wound on her right shoulder and instantly ignited the leaves on the ground. “Vile insect, the battle has just begun! I, Alexia, will burn you to ashes!”

Void element gathered around Laila. Amidst a swirl of four-colored light, an elegant yet savage Dragon Beast appeared in the high-ranking ants’ vision.

Sacred Protection had enhanced Laila’s base attributes, pushing her Spirit attribute past the threshold of thirty points to reach thirty-six. This comprehensive enhancement was also reflected in her Dragon-form’s appearance. A Dragonoid Rager was normally only about 3.2 meters tall, but her current height was close to four meters. Her streamlined body was covered in fiery-red, crystalline scales. Beneath the scale armor, it was as if fire was flowing. The surrounding air distorted from the heat, and the green leaves and branches on the ground withered and carbonized at a visible rate. A small patch of scorched earth had already formed beneath the Dragonoid Rager’s feet.

Laila hadn’t been able to transform into an eight-meter-long flying dragon in the temple like Mewen and Dili, but she too was showing signs of Semi-elementalization. Flames lingered in her mouth, waves of heat rolled off her, and the ground she trod upon turned to scorched earth. This Dragonoid Rager was now one hundred percent a legendary creature, much like a Manticore is a born legendary creature, not a powerhouse who entered the legendary realm through training.

A legendary creature and a legendary powerhouse were beyond comparison.

The Dragonoid’s Fearful Gaze turned into an Aura of Fear, radiating outwards in all directions, indiscriminately pressing down on the dozen or so high-ranking ants watching the battle nearby. The War Ant King bore the brunt of it. Stared at by a pair of draconic vertical pupils flowing with flames, Apollis felt a sense of terror, as if it was about to be ignited.

Dragon’s Might is generally greater than a dragon’s actual combat power, amplifying its terror by at least ten times. Faced with the Dragon’s Might released by Laila, Apollis was caught off guard. Its mind and will were suppressed to the maximum, which in turn triggered the War Ant King’s most important innate talent.

Extreme fear can crush the mind and will of the weak, but it can also stimulate the full potential of the strong. Just as Laila’s Dragon’s Might was a part of her strength, connecting to the psionic network was the War Ant King’s trump card. Apollis uncontrollably drew upon the nearby high-ranking guard ants, forcing them into a state of pure combat frenzy, thereby immunizing them to the mental pressure of the Aura of Fear.

“King!”

The dozen or so high-ranking guard ants roared, charging recklessly towards the Dragon-form Laila. Their movements were coordinated, moving as one with seamless cooperation. Even in her Dragon-form, Laila would have a hard time surviving an assault from twelve high-ranking ants. Unfortunately for them, as exquisite as their coordination was, they miscalculated the Dragonoid Rager’s abilities.

Dragon’s Rage, simultaneously boosting a Dragonkin’s strength and speed, as well as their Dragon’s Might and the power of their Dragon’s Breath. Laila, with her red dragon bloodline, possessed the strongest Dragon’s Rage talent, with an enhancement effect of forty percent. Thanks to Sacred Protection’s defense of her soul, Laila’s current Dragon’s Rage effect surpassed her own limits, reaching fifty percent!

“Die! Let the flames devour you!”

A blast of incandescent Dragon’s Breath swept in a circle, turning the verdant forest into a fiery hell. Three high-ranking ants were too slow to evade and were hit head-on by Laila’s Breath. The liquid fire clung to their psionic shields, burning continuously. They became like great, blazing fireballs, struggling to hold on from within their shields.

An opening immediately appeared in the high-ranking ants’ encirclement. The Dragonoid Rager turned into a fiery meteor and shot straight towards Apollis.

However, the brief obstruction by the high-ranking guard ants had given Apollis enough time to adapt to the pressure of Laila’s Dragon’s Might. Its mind and will escaped from the abyss of fear. Otherwise, the War Ant King, which had been in a state of paralysis just moments ago, would have been instantly killed by the Dragonoid Rager who had surpassed her own limits.

“All of you, get out of my way! Don’t interfere with my battle!”

The arrogant Apollis would not allow its high-ranking guard ants to interfere in its duel with the Dragonoid, so it severed the psionic network connection. The high-ranking ants automatically disengaged from their battle frenzy and worked together to extinguish the Dragon’s Breath flames on their comrades. Still, two of the high-ranking guard ants had their psionic force fields burned through by the terrible liquid fire and were incinerated on the spot.

A portion of the spiritual power from these two high-ranking ants was directly transferred to Apollis, significantly increasing its psionic strength.

Laila’s Dragon-form raised a claw and swung ferociously at the War Ant King, shaking the exceptionally tough psionic shield, but the blow was still dissipated by the Deflection field. As Laila slid to the side, she whipped her tail, sending the Ant King flying. She rotated her leg joints, bending her knees inward and switching from an upright posture to a crawl. Without any pause in her movements, she caught up with the tumbling Apollis, her two sharp foreclaws piercing into its psionic force field, nearly reaching the Ant King’s body. Although the Dragonoid’s claws sank deep into the psionic force field without harming her opponent, they pinned the target in place. Laila opened her bloody maw full of sharp teeth and bit down on the psionic force field.

A tail sweep, a claw strike, a bite—this was the pure, brutal combat style of a Dragon.

Laila had pushed the power of her Dragon-form to its absolute limit. Her claws and teeth were sunk deep into the Ant King’s psionic force field, mere centimeters from its chest and head. The power bonus from Dragon’s Rage caused the formless, colorless psionic force field to visibly distort. The slightest lapse from Apollis, and it would be torn to shreds by the Dragonoid.

The War Ant King was pinned to the ground, unable to move, while Laila was firmly locked by the psionic force field. The two were locked in a stalemate, a wrestling match.

If the other high-ranking ants came over to join the battle now, Laila would have absolutely no chance of survival. But the legendary Dragon Beast’s Aura of Fear and the forest fire made the high-ranking guard ants timid and hesitant. Combined with the War Ant King’s will, not a single high-ranking ant dared to approach and attack Laila.

Sacred Protection stabilized Laila’s soul, but pushing her Rager talent beyond its limits caused her Soul Fire to burn fiercely. The consequences were more powerful draconic talents, but a much shorter transformation time.

Laila’s Dragon-form transformation, which originally lasted twenty-five minutes, was now less than five. And Apollis’s psionic power was simply unfathomable. Not only did it show no signs of weakening, but it was also growing stronger bit by bit, making adaptive adjustments to the Dragonoid’s pin.

The War Ant King tightened its psionic shield, clinging it to the surface of its body. Combining it with its own strength, it reached out and grabbed the Dragonoid’s wrists, creating a counter-suppression of strength. The four patterns on its chest were now fully lit, emitting a blinding white light. However, just as Apollis felt it was gaining the upper hand in the stalemate, it saw a dark red glow in the Dragonoid’s throat.

A terrifying Dragon’s Breath erupted from the Dragonoid’s mouth like a torrent of flowing flames. The incandescent fire completely engulfed the two legendary creatures, turning them into a massive, burning pyre. The high temperature vitrified the ground and made the air shimmer and distort, forming a storm of hot flames that shot out in all directions.

The high-ranking guard ants lingering nearby all raised their psionic force fields to block the erosion of the hot wind and flowing flames, but the entire forest had begun to burn.

The Dragonoid Rager, now exhibiting characteristics of elementalization, was immune to her own fiery Dragon’s Breath. The War Ant King had no such ability. At this moment, its eyes also burst forth with a brilliant light. Along with the glowing patterns on its chest, the dazzling white light was not the least bit inferior to Laila’s all-out Breath.

Apollis gripped Laila’s clawed wrists tightly. The psionic force field formed a smooth mirror in front of its body, holding back the gushing flames of the Dragonoid’s Breath as it slowly but unshakeably rose from the scorched earth.

Her vigor depleted, Laila reverted to her beautiful and enchanting female Dragonoid form. The War Ant King mercilessly pierced her firm, bare chest with its arthropod-like tail, destroying the Dragonoid’s heart-core. Although her brain-core was intact, Laila no longer had the strength to transform. Life was slipping away from her.

Apollis tossed aside its dying opponent and walked towards its underlings in the burning forest. Its eyes were indifferent as it said to them, “I have learned Deflection and Mirror Reflection… That was a wonderful battle.”

“That was a crude and artless battle.”

With this light and ethereal voice, a howling gale swept in. An irresistible wind pressure swept through the entire forest, snapping the burning great trees one by one, extinguishing the raging flames as if they were candles being blown out.

After the hurricane passed, the high-ranking ants climbed back up from the ground to see an ashen forest around them. A human with black hair and gold eyes held the dying female Dragonkin in his arms. Behind him followed two other female Dragonkin with twin horns and waist-length green hair.

“My King, I have failed you,” Laila said weakly, gazing into her master’s dark gold eyes.

“No, you did very well. But next time you fight, you can’t rely solely on instinct. You must also learn to use wisdom,” Victor said gently, kissing Laila’s pale, cold cherry lips. “Alexia, return for now. I will summon you.”

A bright, charming smile bloomed on Laila’s lips. Her beautiful eyes slowly closed. “Yes, My King. Alexia awaits your summons.”

Chapter 832: Heart-Piercing Charm

Laila’s eyes were tightly shut, her long lashes curled, and a sweet, contented smile graced her lips. Leaning in Victor’s arms, she looked like a sleeping beauty. Her delicate skin was still supple and intensely warm, but her life had indeed ended. Before long, this beautiful body would decompose into void elements and vanish from the physical world.

Victor held Laila’s fever-warm body, his brow slightly furrowed. He was surprised by his own calmness at this moment. Although Laila was a high-level alchemical creature, and her current state was not death in the true sense of the word, she was different from the emotionless Alchemical humans. She would act coquettishly, curry favor, feel jealousy, and get angry. She had even established a connection on the level of the soul with her master, as well as an intimate and seamless relationship.

Laila’s Will Side of the soul was a product of the Secret Order’s Alchemists. They had originally created alchemical creatures as pets to be sold to the decadent and corrupt nobles of the Alchemical Empire in exchange for various resources the Secret Order required. The combination of the dragon blood’s Nature and the “plaything” attribute of her Will Side granted the four Dragonkin handmaidens vivid and unique personalities. They possessed wisdom and emotional needs, a stark contrast to the dull Alchemical humans, making them much closer to natural creatures.

Victor could not deny that the genius Alchemist’s experiment had been a success. The unique Dragonkin handmaidens were not only powerful, high-level alchemical units but had also brought him much joy.

And yet, Victor had watched Laila die in battle with a heart as still as a tranquil lake. In fact, he had been nearby when Laila and the War Ant King clashed. During their duel, Laila had several opportunities to kill her opponent. For instance, when she transformed into her Dragon-form, she could have suppressed her Dragon’s Might at first, and then unleashed her Aura of Fear at full power once they engaged in close combat. The outcome of the battle would have been rewritten.

Victor did not prompt Laila. Had he even intervened in time to assist her, Laila would not have been killed by the Ant King. He simply hid in the shadows, a cold observer watching until the outcome was decided, only revealing himself with Dili and Fugerui in tow.

Know the enemy and know yourself, and you can fight a hundred battles without defeat.

The opponent Victor was truly wary of was the Ant-man Empress, not this War Ant King. He now had some understanding of the Ant-man Empress, certain that She and the Ant-man populace were not an inseparable whole, but rather that She was an independent individual capable of strongly influencing the ant swarms’ pan-consciousness.

But this level of understanding was far from enough. The Ant-man Empress was no newborn like the Black Blood Sovereign. Victor lacked sufficient knowledge of Her methods, abilities, modes of perception, and thought patterns; he had no confidence he could defeat Her. By the same token, Victor also had to be careful to protect information about himself, to avoid letting the Ant-man Empress understand him first.

The battle between the Dragonoid and the War Ant King could be considered a skirmish between Victor and the Ant-man Empress, albeit one that had been unexpected by both sides.

The Alchemical Dragon-Lizard had left rather obvious tracks. The high-ranking ants in their silver-white carapaces had a hard time catching up to it, but the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard couldn’t easily shake them off either. Faced with this situation, once the War Ant King confirmed that Beldina was not among its targets, shouldn’t it have switched to a different one?

The War Ant King’s interest in Laila was clearly greater than its interest in Beldina, which likely went against the will of the Ant-man Empress.

Victor believed that the Ant-man Empress had most likely not captured Beldina, so whether Her gaze was cast upon the battle between the Ant King and the Dragonoid became a question.

Between a high-level alchemical unit created by Alchemy Tower No. 7 and the top fighting power of the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower, which was superior?

Victor was very interested in the answer to this question, and he imagined the Ant-man Empress would not miss such a spectacular duel either.

If the Ant-man Empress did not make a move, then neither would Victor. Whoever revealed their abilities first would be a step behind. Unfortunately, Laila lost. That being the case, Victor could not allow the War Ant King to leave alive. This high-ranking ant with its difficult personality had an exceptional learning ability, and Victor had no reason to allow it to continue growing stronger.

What surprised Victor was that he could watch Laila die in battle with such tranquility.

The red Dragonkin handmaiden Alexia could be perfectly resurrected; her emotions, memories, and consciousness would not be lost. But even if it had been Charlotte who had perished, Victor would not have felt too much grief.

As his understanding of the world’s Laws deepened, the extraordinary power Victor wielded grew by the day, and the emotional fluctuations of a mortal were fading away from him. This was not to say he was gradually losing his humanity and becoming cold and heartless, but that his way of looking at things had fundamentally changed.

It was as if Victor could calmly accept Charlotte meeting with misfortune, but he would not order Charlotte to do something beyond her capabilities. If he knew full well that Charlotte was no match for the War Ant King, yet still ordered her to cover the rear to preserve the stronger Dragonkin handmaidens, that would be truly selfish, cold-hearted, and ruthless.

As one of the few Sanctuary-rank experts, Victor had insight into the mysteries of the world’s origin and understood the strangeness of fate. His perspective on life had undergone a heaven-and-earth-shattering change. It was normal for reason to outweigh emotion and for all emotions to be under his control.

However, if he could so calmly face the twists of fate for his intimate partners, why did his heart still flutter for the Dark Elf priestess, Sakhirtana?

This was, to some extent, related to “Freya’s Tear.”

The Moon Goddess’s sacred object had helped Victor increase his spiritual power by two points, a significant boost to his strength, but his perception had been influenced by the sacred object, causing him to develop a sense of identification and goodwill towards the Elves.

Victor hadn’t even noticed this subtle change in his self-perception before. That was what was truly worthy of vigilance and lament.

The ten surviving high-ranking ants could not comprehend Victor’s psychological state at that moment. But as an intelligent species bound by emotion, they naturally assumed that the powerful and unfamiliar human male before them was in immense grief, and that his towering rage would soon be unleashed upon Apollis and all the high-ranking guard ants.

“King, you escape first. We’ll do our best to hold him back,” the high-ranking ant Ann said in a low voice.

“Escape? You think we can escape from him?” Apollis asked, turning its head. It had just been through a fierce battle, fought with all its might to kill its opponent, and was now in a poor state. Both its psionic energy and its own vigor had hit rock bottom. Considering the might the human male had displayed upon his arrival, as well as the two female Dragonkin by his side, Apollis had not the slightest confidence in victory. It had yet to decide whether to flee or fight to the death.

Seeing the high-ranking guard ant Ann fall silent, unable to offer a viable escape plan, Apollis couldn’t help but feel a sliver of disappointment.

In truth, at a time like this, facing an opponent like the Raging Wind Sword Saint, there was little difference between fleeing and fighting to the death. The most feared thing was precisely hesitation, the inability to make a decision.

The Raging Wind Sword Saint’s authority to manipulate time and space was exceedingly high. Who would dare to dawdle in his presence, to let their thoughts wander?

Handing Laila’s body to the Dragonkin handmaiden Dili behind him, Victor drew the “Soul Rend” spiked whip, black as ink, and walked toward the War Ant King and the crowd of high-ranking ants with their silver-white carapaces.

The forest was filled with ash, the embers not yet extinguished. The dark red sparks and the bright sunlight wove together an oil painting of a ruined landscape. Victor, spiked whip in hand, trod across the cracked and carbonized ground. His steps were unhurried, his demeanor peaceful and calm, his bearing elegant and leisurely. His eyes held curiosity and appreciation, yet they never met the gaze of any of the high-ranking ants.

Apollis did not sense any hostility from Victor, but it prepared for battle nonetheless. A psionic force field clung to the front of its body, ready to either defend or boost its strength and speed.

“Why don’t you run?” Victor asked casually in the common tongue of the ancient Alchemical Empire as he walked up to the War Ant King without changing his pace. His eyes never met Apollis’s, and he was about to step past its side.

Huh? Why don’t I run? Is he letting me go, or… The thought surfaced uncontrollably in Apollis’s mind. At that very moment, the long spiked whip in the human male’s hand struck from the side.

The whip’s thrust was not fast, its force light and airy. In Apollis’s eyes, this could hardly be considered an attack. It began to turn its body while simultaneously mobilizing its psionic energy, intending to dodge the strike and shift its psionic shield into a Deflection field positioned between itself and the human male. But it was a step too slow. The turning evasion it attempted was as if it were deliberately meeting the human male’s strike. The seemingly light and slow black spiked whip pierced the psionic force field and stabbed right into its left shoulder.

By the common power standards of the human kingdoms, the War Ant King could be classified as a legendary creature, possessing extraordinary power comparable to a Sanctuary-rank expert. But the world’s will and the laws of nature do not recognize power-ranking systems devised by mortals, be they human or elven.

Natural ecosystems always tend toward balance, and the variety of life always maintains diversity; this is the default Law of the world’s will. No man-made laws, regulations, or social hierarchies can be held above the laws of nature.

A noble king will bleed if his hand is cut, starve if he does not eat, and die of thirst if he does not drink. Before the natural Law of inevitable death, a King and a lowly beggar are no different.

In the Creator’s eyes, there has never been any Bronze, Silver, Gold, or Legendary. All that can die will die, whether you are a Bronze-rank, Silver-rank, Gold-rank, a legendary powerhouse, or a Saint realm Demigod.

Powerful creatures do indeed stand at the top of the food chain, but weaker life forms also have their own objective basis for survival and procreation. Just as one cannot drown a fish in a river, nor cause a bird to fall from the sky, nor suffocate an earthworm by burying it in a field, only by following the laws of nature and finding the correct method can even a Sanctuary-level War Ant King be killed with a single blow.

Victor had been observing the War Ant King and the high-ranking ants for some time now and had a certain degree of understanding of their behavior patterns, talents, and physical characteristics. Apollis and its subordinates, however, knew nothing of the enemy before them.

The War Ant King was born with mastery over the endlessly versatile psionic force field, possessed keen Combat intuition, and had an outstanding ability to learn. It was undoubtedly a formidable legendary creature. However, it was not using its power correctly. The War Ant King’s greatest advantage lay in commanding the ant swarms, not in single combat.

Apollis should have been hunting Beldina, yet it insisted on a duel with the Dragonoid Rager. It could have used the Mental Link of the ant swarm to coordinate attacks with the high-ranking ants, but it insisted on fighting alone, using its enemy to hone its own abilities.

Perhaps this came from a rebellion against the Ant-man Empress. All true kings possess an instinctive will to resist restraint. So, in Victor’s eyes, this War Ant King was nothing more than a difficult newborn.

The Black Blood Sovereign’s perfect body had also been a newborn, and It still perished at the hands of the Raging Wind Sword Saint. What chance did a difficult War Ant King, one that constantly sought to rebel against the sovereign of the ant swarm, have?

There were flaws in the personalities of the War Ant King and the high-ranking ants.

On the other hand, Victor was certain they did not possess the danger sense of a ferocious beast. Most intelligent species with danger sense tended to be simple-minded. If a military commander felt that there was danger here and danger there, how could he command his soldiers in mass combat?

And the Ant-men were precisely a species that fought in swarms.

Against a newborn Ant King that lacked danger sense and had a difficult personality, the mental clash had already begun the moment Victor stepped onto the battlefield.

Apollis had just defeated Laila; its spirits were high, but its strength was depleted. Victor’s grand entrance caused a huge psychological drop. It had learned Deflection and Mirror Reflection and was feeling smug, eager to challenge Victor. But it also wanted to flee the battlefield due to its weakened state, leaving it torn and indecisive.

Victor’s leisurely manner, showing no hint of hostility, even avoiding eye contact, made the hesitant War Ant King simply watch as he ambled over.

This was, in fact, a practical application of the Charm spell. Victor targeted the weaknesses in his opponent’s mind; all his actions and mannerisms were silently manipulating its emotions, prying open a larger fissure in its psyche.

When Victor approached Apollis and made his move, it was all too late.

Victor’s “Soul Rend” strike against Apollis was slow and gentle, but in his Perception, the War Ant King’s movements were as if frozen in resin, the flow of time slowing to a crawl. His grasp of time was precise to the millisecond, his control of distance to the millimeter. As he took a step, the angle of the “Soul Rend” strike also shifted, landing on its left shoulder just before Apollis could execute its evasive maneuver.

The spiked whip, forged from Saron Demon Iron and infused with the void wind element, possessed unparalleled armor-piercing and sharpness. Victor now used a point to break a plane. The angle of the “Soul Rend” strike was a perfect straight line. Apollis had never witnessed the destructive effect of void elements combined with Saron Demon Iron; the light armor field, fortress field, deflection field, and mirror reflection field it had learned in its two battles were all useless. The “Soul Rend” spiked whip passed through the psionic shield without hindrance, piercing a mere three centimeters into the ant king’s shoulder carapace.

The berserk and sharp void wind element invaded Apollis’s body. It had no choice but to contract its psionic energy, changing its deflection field to a light armor field that clung to the surface of its body. This would greatly increase its strength and agility, but Apollis had no time to counterattack. It could only use its psionic energy to fight the cutting of the void wind element to prevent its body from being completely torn apart. Without the deflection field to obstruct it, Victor’s “Soul Rend” spiked whip slid down from the Ant King’s shoulder all the way to its hip.

A blinding light erupted from Apollis’s chest markings and eyes. It slowly turned its body and spoke to the human powerhouse who had never once looked it in the eye: “You…”

The moment the War Ant King spoke, indigo void elements burst from its body from shoulder to hip, transforming into streams of cyan-black wind. Victor raised his long, elegant left hand, and the violent wind elements tamely gathered at his fingertips, coalescing into a crackling ball of cyan-black wind.

The other high-ranking ants only saw the human male brush past their King, and then with a casual wave, the indomitable Apollis was sliced in two.

The War Ant King perished on the spot, and the psionic network constructed by the high-ranking ants severed completely. Although they were still in formation, they felt no sense of security from their comrades; they were completely isolated individuals.

“Ant-man Empress, how long are you a going to hide? Are you waiting for me to kill all these high-ranking ants? Then as you wish.”

A brownish-yellow halo lit up in Victor’s dark gold eyes. The ball of wind element resting on his fingertip transformed into two lances of cyan-black airflow, striking the two nearest high-ranking ants.

The two high-ranking ants seemed to suffer an irresistible blow. Their psionic force fields twisted violently, then suddenly collapsed inward. Their humanoid faces contorted in pained struggle, and then, with a bang, they were blown into two sprays of brilliant blue blood by their own psionic energy.

Victor’s Grasp of the Wind Djinn was a Transcendent combat skill that came with mental damage, and it was not very effective against creatures with a tough Physique. The high-ranking ants could barely be considered fifth-tier creatures and should not have been so fragile as to be unable to withstand a single Grasp of the Wind Djinn. But the War Ant King had just died, and the high-ranking ants had not yet recovered from the shock of the broken psionic network. Moreover, the memory of Apollis using its fortress field against the Aberrant Giant Ape had left a very deep impression on them. Victor had slain Apollis with such casual ease, and these high-ranking ants instinctively compared the two, arriving at an obvious conclusion. Following that, Victor began calling out to the sovereign of the swarm, adopting the posture of a leader on the same level as their sovereign. This became the final straw that broke the high-ranking guard ants’ wills.

The fear and cognitive dissonance in the high-ranking ants’ minds were magnified several times, and the killing power of the Grasp of the Wind Djinn was also multiplied. The two unlucky high-ranking guard ants instinctively assumed the impact of the wind element lances was equivalent to that of the berserk giant ape, causing their psionic shields to lose control. Their bodies were crushed by their own psionic power.

To catch the outlaws, first catch their king; to defeat the enemy, first break their spirit.

The knowledge of the Charm spell from the Dark Elf legacy shone brilliantly in Victor’s hands, combining with mental damage to form an entirely new framework of power. Victor had tested it on the newborn War Ant King and won with ease. Though the price was steep—the loss of a Dragonoid Rager—the impact of this victory was far greater than simply eliminating one War Ant King and two high-ranking ants.

The surviving high-ranking ants were now like weak Goblins, scattering in a panic. Victor stood his ground, letting them flee.

The Charm spell had planted seeds of fear and despair in the minds of these high-ranking ants. When they reconnected to the ant swarm’s psionic network, the fear they felt from witnessing Apollis being killed would spread like a plague among the other high-ranking ants through the Mental Link.

It would not be so easy for Victor to find another lone War Ant King to kill as a demonstration for the other high-ranking ants. This opportunity had been rare, and he had used every means to create a situation favorable to himself. If the Ant-man Empress did not interfere, these fleeing high-ranking ants would quietly help him establish an advantage in their next confrontation.

An invisible psionic wave silently swept across the entire forest. The high-ranking ants that had just fled the ashen battlefield fell to the ground almost simultaneously. Their hearts were still beating, but their souls had already dissipated.

Victor sighed inwardly in pity. His profound gaze fell upon the only standing, white-armored ant, watching as it turned and walked back.

Ann slightly bent her forelimbs, first crossing her hands over her chest, then gently and slowly opening her arms, performing a feminine, elegant greeting to Victor.

“Hello, strange powerhouse. Should I call you the Elven Emperor, or the Alchemy Tower Master?”

Victor also bent his knee and placed a hand to his chest, returning the courtesy to the female high-ranking ant. He smiled and asked, “Victor Wimbledon Randell is pleased to meet you. Should I call you the Ant-man Empress, The Undying One, The Lord of Sorrow, or…”

“Mage Angelina?”

Chapter 833: Surrender

“Angelina… A name I could never forget.”

The high-ranking ant Ann, or rather, the will of the Ant-man Empress that had descended upon it, smiled at Victor. “Your Highness Randall, in all these years, you are the first Alchemy Tower Master to speak the name ‘Angelina’. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for not forgetting it.”

Victor’s eyes flickered. The X-3 processed a vast amount of information and ran deductions in a split second. Maintaining a calm expression, he said casually, “You call me ‘Your Highness.’ It seems you know something of the human kingdoms of this era.”

The Ant-man Empress tilted her head and raised her left hand to point at her temple. “After I returned to the swarm, I spent some time sorting through the memories of the ant-man queens… Your Highness should know that the swarm’s biological template is based on the Gros Insectoids from the Twilight Era. They devour the brains of their prey to absorb fragments of information. And as an Alchemy Tower, the ant swarms have a similar memory upload function.”

During the Ant-man plague in the Centaur Hills, the lords discovered that the Ant-men could proficiently use the tools and weapons of their victims after eating their corpses. The information revealed by the Ant-man Empress was consistent with objective facts, including the memory upload function of alchemical humans, which had also been verified in Alchemy Tower No. 7.

“It is regrettable that a small conflict occurred between the ant swarms and the human kingdoms while I was trapped.” The Ant-man Empress bowed her head gracefully in an apologetic gesture.

Although the Ant-man Empress vaguely showed a friendly attitude toward the human kingdoms, Victor was not moved by her words or body language. With a wry smile, he said, “The Ant-man plague over a decade ago claimed several thousand lives, with total casualties exceeding ten thousand. You call that a small conflict?”

“What else would it be?” The Ant-man Empress shook her head. “That conflict arose from the swarm’s natural cycle of renewal, merely a collective foraging by aging worker ants. If the swarm had deployed soldier ants, what does Your Highness think would have happened?”

She paused, then continued, “Of course, even if it was just worker ants foraging, a conflict erupting between the swarm and the human kingdoms was by no means my intention.”

In their first encounter, the topic the Ant-man Empress and Victor discussed was, surprisingly, their political stances.

But was that not to be expected?

The Ant-man Empress was suspected to be the ancient Mage Angelina, an Alchemy Tower Master of the Alchemical Empire. Victor was also an Alchemy Tower Master of the Alchemical Empire. From this perspective, both of them actually belonged to the Alchemical Empire’s faction.

However, Victor saw the Ant-man Empress as his number one enemy by default. Given the inherent characteristic of Alchemy Towers to absorb and improve one another, the Ant-man Empress, being a fellow Tower Master, should also see Victor as a mortal enemy.

There was a political prerequisite for Alchemy Tower Masters to be competitors: the Alchemical Empire had already fallen, its laws and order completely lost. The remaining Tower Masters were like independent warlords and bandits. Conversely, if the Alchemical Empire had not perished, then the Tower Masters would still be part of the Empire and, of course, could not attack each other.

Alchemy Towers were also interconnected. Because Alchemy Tower No. 7 could not connect to a higher authority, Victor had confirmed that the Alchemical Empire had perished. According to the records of the Secret Order’s Alchemists, the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower was an Alchemy Tower secretly built by the Secret Order behind the Empire’s back. Its form of existence was highly unusual, so it was reasonable that it couldn’t connect with traditional Alchemy Towers.

In other words, this Tower Master, the Ant-man Empress, was essentially an “unregistered entity.” Could it be that She didn’t know the Alchemical Empire had fallen? How was that possible? If She was indeed the Secret Order’s Mage Angelina and had participated in the construction of the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower, then based on the timeline, She should have experienced the turmoil at the end of the Empire… unless it was because of the Lord of Radiance!

Victor’s mind raced. His gaze deepened as he asked, “The incident in the Yasurta Empire over 1500 years ago—was that something you orchestrated? Did you use those human clergy?”

The Ant-man Empress didn’t answer Victor’s question directly. Instead, she turned her gaze to the two Dragonkin handmaidens, Dili and Fugerui, and said with a smile, “So Isocrates’s alchemical experiments were a success after all… I truly don’t know where he found the Bloodline of an ancient dragon to create such astonishing new alchemical units.”

Isocrates was the designer of the Alchemy Tower in the Misty Mountains, a genius Alchemist of the Secret Order, and a contemporary of Mage Angelina. Not only were they acquainted, but they also jointly participated in the design and creation of the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower.

Isocrates believed that the world’s Laws were becoming stricter and more perfect, which would lead to serious flaws in existing alchemical units. For example, Alchemy Tower No. 7 had the function to produce Dragon Warriors, but Victor couldn’t command the King to produce them because the current world’s Laws did not permit Dragon Warriors to transform into their ten-meter-plus-long Dragon-beast forms. In fact, by the end of the Era of the Chosen, Wizards could no longer draw upon the power of the Elemental Sea, and their spellcasting abilities were greatly weakened. The Law of Creation from the Void used by the Alchemy Towers was, of course, also affected by the origin of the world, and many alchemical units based on ancient species templates could no longer be created.

In the battle at the temple this time, Alchemy Tower No. 7 had absorbed a complete Alchemy Tower Rune Crystal, adding three new types of alchemical units. Victor wasn’t even interested in looking up the relevant information. If they were powerful, high-level alchemical units, Alchemy Tower No. 7 certainly wouldn’t be able to produce them. If they were mid- or low-level alchemical units, their cost-effectiveness might be even worse than the Alchemical militia.

The evolutionary trend of the world’s Laws was always from loose to strict, from simple to diverse. If Alchemy Towers could endlessly create alchemical units unbound by the Laws of the world, then other natural life forms would have no chance of survival, which would inevitably lead the rich and diverse world to its doom.

Therefore, rigid alchemical unit templates were doomed to obsolescence, and traditional Alchemists were destined for decline.

Isocrates was not the only Alchemist in the Alchemical Empire with this sense of crisis. Within the Empire’s Highest Council, there were three different voices: the hardliners, also known as the Secret Order, who advocated for maintaining the rule of the Alchemists through technological innovation; the revivalists, who proposed re-examining the long-abandoned art of puppetry to enhance the personal strength of Elementalists and Mages; and the God-creation faction, which championed the God Creation Project.

In the end, the God-creation faction’s proposal for Transformation was supported by the Spirit Knights of the Highest Council. Meanwhile, the technological innovations of the Secret Order’s Alchemists required too many resources. They squeezed and exploited the various City-states of the Empire and even coveted the blood of the Ancient Gods collected by the Elven Empire, which could potentially trigger an all-out war between the two empires. Furthermore, the new alchemical units possessed the attributes of natural life, carrying the risk of them going out of control. The hardliner Alchemists became public pariahs, hated by all. Facing dual pressure from within and without, the hardliner Alchemists and Mages formed the Secret Order and secretly engaged in all sorts of forbidden experiments.

For the Alchemical Empire, the Secret Order, which followed its path to the very end, was an illegal organization engaged in all sorts of vile deeds. To accumulate resources, they not only blackmailed and extorted the major City-states but also secretly trafficked slaves, with victims among humans, Barbarians, and elves alike.

Now, Victor was a Tower Master of the Secret Order, and so was Angelina. They were either both criminals of the Alchemical Empire or both legitimate Imperial Tower Masters. Neither could point a finger at the other.

According to the Alchemical Empire’s social system, Angelina’s status was higher than Victor’s. She was originally a formal member of the Mage Council, a follower acknowledged by the Alchemist Maximo. A Tower Master, on the other hand, was usually a role filled by an ordinary descendant of a Mage. They held a certain degree of power and status but were far inferior to official Mages and Alchemists, ranking even below Elementalists and Mage apprentices.

However, if Victor positioned himself as the true line for the revival of the Alchemical Empire, it would be normal for Angelina to request a clear, legitimate status from him. After all, the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower was an anomaly among Alchemy Towers, existing outside the imperial military hierarchy, and it had even attacked the alchemical creatures Victor created.

The ghost of a Mage from over twenty thousand years ago was still obsessed with the Alchemical Empire. Victor couldn’t comprehend Angelina’s imperial sentimentality and, having no such hang-ups, he said bluntly, “The Alchemical Empire has already perished. The laws are void, order has collapsed. What is the point of telling me all this?”

“Perished? The Highest Council’s God Creation Project succeeded. How can the Empire be considered perished?” the Ant-man Empress’s voice suddenly rose, becoming sharp and shrill.

When Alexia returned to Alchemy Tower No. 7, the Dragonkin handmaidens Dili and Fugerui had no reaction. But here, the moment the Ant-man Empress’s voice rose slightly, they wouldn’t stand for it.

“Bastard, how dare you roar at the King!”

Daphdilier glared fiercely at the high-ranking ant opposite her with her Fearful Gaze, which, of course, had no effect.

Daphgriel sidled up to Victor, saying in a sweet, eager voice, “King, this Ant-man is very weak. How dare it provoke you? Let me go kill it, please?”

“Stop messing around.” Victor pushed away the fawning Fugerui and said to the Ant-man Empress, “Just because you know of the Lord of Radiance, you think the Alchemical Empire hasn’t fallen. Didn’t the clergy from over 1500 years ago tell you about the state of the human kingdoms?”

“Sentient, loyal, and powerful—truly perfect alchemical creatures… Our Secret Order’s advocacy was the correct one,” the Ant-man Empress said, her appreciative gaze sweeping over the two Dragonkin handmaidens. Then she added, “Of course, the God Creation Project is not bad either… I did indeed meet those clergy of the Lord of Radiance, but the ones who told me of the current state of the human kingdoms were not them, but a Mage apprentice they were hunting.”

“A Golden Elementalist leading the clergy of the Lord of Radiance to hunt a Mage apprentice?” the Ant-man Empress said furiously. “From that apprentice, I learned that Pope Inoc used the power from the God Creation Project to slaughter and persecute other Mages. I concluded that it was a despicable act of rebellion. You must understand, the Empire’s Mages’ Association was the main proponent of the God Creation Project, and the power of the Lord of Radiance was supposed to be at the command of the Mages and Alchemists. If not for Pope Inoc’s betrayal, how could humans have been driven from their homeland by the foolish beastmen, even with the power of the Lord of Radiance!” the Ant-man Empress said resentfully.

Over 1500 years ago, the Pantheon, led by the Archwizard siblings Claire and Klein, was annihilated by the Radiant Church. Paladins from the Trigoval family tracked a Pantheon Wizard who had stolen a sacred object from Arreat to the Asoerta Mountains. There, they crossed paths with the Assyrian Empire and the Ant-man Empress.

The Ant-man Empress learned about the Radiant Church from the Pantheon Wizard, but that Wizard probably didn’t understand the history of the Era of the Chosen.

If one were to disregard the Blood Sacrifice War between the Chosen Wizards, Angelina’s conclusion from the standpoint of the Alchemical Empire’s Mages’ Association—that the first Pope Inoc was a despicable traitor—was not an incorrect one.

The ancient Alchemists and Mages didn’t create the Lord of Radiance just to have clergy lord it over them. Although the Lord of Radiance was the ultimate creation of the Alchemical Empire, it was still meant to serve the Alchemists and Mages. Yet, at the moment of victory, the first Pope Inoc turned around and annihilated the Council of the Chosen, which had colluded with the Radiant Church, leaving no time for a buffer. At that time, the number of human believers was small, the power of the Lord of Radiance was weak, and without the assistance of the Wizards, Inoc, despite having awakened the Lord of Radiance, had nonetheless planted the seeds of disaster for the future development of the human kingdoms.

Afterward, facing the onslaught of the beastmen hordes, the human armies suffered repeated defeats. City-states fell, the population plummeted, and they lost the most fertile Northern Wildlands, retreating to the barren south that held no interest for the beastmen. Only now have they begun to recover.

The Radiant Church held the ultimate creation of the Alchemical Empire in its hands, yet it specialized in persecuting the Wizard class and couldn’t even defeat the doltish beastmen. In Mage Angelina’s eyes, this was an unacceptable disgrace; the first Pope Inoc and the clergy of the Radiant Church were traitors to the Empire.

Victor thought for a second, then shook his head. “I don’t know the history of the Alchemical Empire, but I believe an important condition for the Highest Council’s decision to launch the God Creation Project was the Empire’s large population. The more believers there are, the stronger the Lord of Radiance becomes. If the number of believers was only one-tenth of the Empire’s population, could the Lord of Radiance’s power have stood against the beastmen legions? Would the Highest Council still have considered the God Creation Project?”

“One-tenth of the Empire’s population?” A look of confusion appeared on the Ant-man Empress’s face.

“Perhaps even less.” Victor nodded and continued, “When Inoc awakened the Lord of Radiance, the Blood Sacrifice War had broken out among the Wizard City-states of the human kingdoms. The two major Wizard factions, the Pantheon and the Mage Council, were attacking each other. Massacres and blood sacrifices in cities were common occurrences, and the population had shrunk by more than tenfold.”

The Ant-man Empress pressed, “The Blood Sacrifice War… When did this happen?”

The corners of Victor’s mouth turned up slightly. “You don’t know the history of the human kingdoms, and I don’t know the history of the Alchemical Empire. We can exchange information. You answer one of my questions, and I’ll answer one of yours.”

The Ant-man Empress smiled. “I refuse. Because you are also a rebel of the Empire.”

Directly labeled a rebel of the Empire by Angelina, Victor said with amusement, “I’m a rebel? I’m afraid you have yet to accept the fact that the Alchemical Empire has already fallen.”

“The Empire has fallen? Then what are you? What am I? And what is the Lord of Radiance?” The Ant-man Empress stared coldly at Victor, walking towards him step by step. “You are here to kill me. The Empire explicitly forbids Tower Masters from killing one another. If you want to kill me, you are a rebel of the Empire. Since you want to kill me, why should I believe your words? I am right in front of you. Go on, come and kill me!”

A female Ant-man with a silvery-white carapace and four legs puffed out its chest and lunged at Victor, acting as if it were seeking death. Could there be anything more absurd?

His Highness Randall had never encountered a “woman” who threw a tantrum at him. Fortunately, the Dragonkin handmaiden Fugerui stepped up and sent the high-ranking female Ant-man to its knees with a single punch.

The Ant-man Empress got back to her feet and let out a shrill laugh. “Haha, you can’t kill me. When I send the ant legions to the human kingdoms to quell the rebellion, I can find out what happened to the Empire all the same. Why should I listen to your lies? You despicable, shameless traitor!”

Victor’s expression turned very ugly. He said angrily, “Alchemical creatures can recognize their own kind. My alchemical creatures cannot recognize the Ant-men. On what grounds do you call me a traitor to the Empire? Besides, the Ant-men attacked me first. Even if there is an imperial rebel here, it would be you!”

“I never intended to kill you, but you most certainly intended to kill me,” the Ant-man Empress said faintly.

Victor let out two cold laughs, sneering, “Whatever you say goes?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” the Ant-man Empress retorted. “You wield the power of the Sun Elves. It’s almost impossible for me to kill you, so why would I do something so pointless? You can’t kill me either, but your Alchemy Tower can absorb the Soul Fire of low-ranking guard ants, whereas I cannot absorb the Soul Fire of your alchemical units. Why did you bring your Alchemy Tower’s creation crystal with you? Isn’t it because you want to kill my low-ranking guard ants, seize my swarm’s Soul Fire, strengthen your Alchemy Tower, and then eliminate me?”

“As a Tower Master of the Alchemical Empire, you don’t think about reviving the Empire, only pursuing your own private interests. What’s the difference between you and that despicable Inoc? You are both rebels of the Empire!”

All this time, Victor had seen himself as the victim and the Ant-man Empress as his mortal enemy. On this expedition to the Endless Forest, he had brought Alchemy Tower No. 7 with him, indeed relying on his own great power and planning to use the Alchemy Tower’s ability to absorb the Ant-men’s Soul Fire to slowly wear down the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower.

The Ant-man Empress had exposed his dark intentions. Victor went from victim to perpetrator. He felt no guilt, but he was left speechless.

Victor was silent for a moment, then took up his Soul Rend spiked whip and said flatly, “My apologies, Lady. The third demon invasion is about to begin, and I need the power of the Alchemy Tower.”

The Ant-man Empress smiled and nodded, giving an elegant bow. “In that case, powerful Alchemy Tower Master, may I surrender to you?”

Chapter 834: The Agreement

To this day, Victor still hadn’t figured out the Ant-man Empress’s form of existence, but he could confirm that She possessed a Saint realm status, allowing Her to transfer Her will to any member of the ant swarm at will. Without finding the right method, Victor was actually quite powerless against Her.

The ant swarms now occupied the Alchemy Tower in the Asoerta Temple, and beneath it lay a massive network of underground tunnels. Outside, Victor’s high mobility rendered the threat from the ant swarms negligible. By the same token, if Victor were to venture into the complex underground tunnels to hunt low-level guard ants, it would be tantamount to suicide.

Relying on the Raging Wind Sword Saint alone to kill low-level guard ants outside the temple, there was no telling how many years it would take for Alchemy Tower No. 7 to completely wear down the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower by seizing their Soul Fire.

In truth, it was a foolish method with almost no chance of success.

As things stood, Victor and the Ant-man Empress were in a stalemate, with neither able to gain the upper hand.

The Ant-man Empress claimed She wanted to surrender to Victor, but it was likely just a pretext to achieve Her own goals.

Victor wanted to hear what She had to say next and replied noncommittally, “Oh? And how do you plan to ‘surrender’?”

“The Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower was designed to fight the demons of the Abyss. If Your Highness Randell is truly preparing to face the third demonic tide, you will not do a better job than I,” the Ant-man Empress said to Victor. “You don’t understand the demonic tide. In my long life, I have never experienced one either, but what I know is still more than you.”

Victor pressed on, “Let’s hear it, then. Prove that you truly know more about the demonic tide than I do.”

The Ant-man Empress shook Her head. “I cannot prove it… Your Highness cannot verify what I say, so of course you would not believe my word alone.”

Cunning and flowery words, aside from wasting both their time, had no effect on Victor and only served to reduce Her persuasiveness. The Ant-man Empress’s refusal to reveal Her knowledge of the demonic tide was partly a tactic of holding out for a better price, but it was also an honest statement.

Victor said, “From what I know, the early Alchemical Empire was a loose alliance of human city-states. The Mages and Elementalists of the larger city-states had mastered alchemical puppet and rune technologies originating from the High Goblin Empire. It wasn’t until the second demon invasion that the human city-states united. Mages and Elementalists exchanged knowledge of runes and puppetry, forming a joint army to fight the demonic tide, which led to the birth of the Alchemical Empire in the truest sense. The emergence of the Art of Void Creation allowed the Alchemical Empire to turn the tide of the demon war, driving the demons back to their lair in the Abyss. The prestige of The Highest Council thus reached unprecedented heights, and the Alchemical Empire entered its golden age.”

The Ant-man Empress met Victor’s gaze and nodded. “I understand what you mean. The Empire defeated the demons more than three thousand years before I was born. My knowledge of the demon invasion came from history lessons at the Mages’ Association. You believe my knowledge of the demonic tide is incomplete, and possibly outdated.”

Victor gave Her a deep look, his gaze shifting to the forest behind the Ant-man Empress. He said leisurely, “In your time, when you were still a Mage, the Alchemical Empire’s monetary system had already collapsed, hadn’t it?”

Traditional Alchemy Towers had two major flaws. First, they were incredibly costly to maintain. Second, they could only be built in places where the four elements converged in balance. The locations of the Alchemy Towers could not cater to the needs of the Empire’s city-states. Some tower sites were completely unsuitable for establishing a city, like the ruins of the Alchemy Tower deep within the Giantstone Mountains, which was surrounded by rock with no arable land. This led to conflict between the central authority of the Empire and the local city-states.

The Highest Council controlled all alchemical creatures and could initially “feed” the Alchemy Towers by issuing a unified currency. But over-issuance led to currency depreciation and soaring prices, forcing them to supply the towers’ production needs with physical resources instead. The Empire’s monetary system thus collapsed. The conflict between local city-states and The Highest Council grew increasingly sharp, to the point where city-states refused to use the Empire’s unified currency. In its later stages, the Empire had effectively disintegrated into a disorderly mob.

The Ant-man Empress was silent for a long time before saying, “Yes. But what does that have to do with the third demonic tide you have to face?”

Victor shook his head and chuckled. “I just find it amusing. The Highest Council of the Alchemical Empire shutting down the Alchemy Towers would shake the foundation of their rule, but handing the towers over to the city-states would also shake the foundation of their rule. The Alchemists and Mages of that time must have been in a very tight spot… You keep talking about reviving the Alchemical Empire. Don’t you find that laughable?”

The Ant-man Empress shook Her head. “Things are different now. We have the Lord of Radiance.”

Victor raised an eyebrow and said mockingly, “So you’ve been plotting to seize the Lord of Radiance all along. That’s the real reason for your ‘surrender’.”

The Ant-man Empress said dismissively, “The Lord of Radiance was originally the Empire’s ultimate creation. It is a fact that He now lies in the hands of traitors. It is also a fact that we are the Tower Masters of the Empire. And it is yet another fact that the third demon invasion is about to begin. The Empire once successfully repelled the demonic tide. Can those traitors who stole the Lord of Radiance do the same?”

“The Highest Council’s God Creation Project was a success, and we of the Secret Order were not wrong. The Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower solved the problem of immobility and can even absorb resources in war. You saw it in the last battle—your high-level alchemical creatures, combined with the power of the Lord of Radiance, could stand against my War Ant King. The Empire should belong to us. Repelling the demonic tide can be our responsibility, yours and mine. Why should we be constrained by a bunch of despicable, foolish traitors? They can’t even handle the beastmen legions!”

Victor nodded thoughtfully, looking quite “tempted” as he asked, “That makes sense… So how do you plan to seize the Lord of Radiance?”

A cunning expression appeared on the Ant-man Empress’s human-like face as She shook Her head and said, “I have my ways, of course, but I won’t tell you right now.”

Victor sneered, “Is this the sincerity of your ‘surrender’? I only believe that you want to use me.”

“It’s just mutual use,” the Ant-man Empress said calmly. “I am indeed willing to submit to Your Highness, and I don’t mind telling you why… Your lifespan is not as long as mine. While you live, I will submit to you. After you die, I will regain my freedom.”

Victor was truly dumbfounded. The Ant-man Empress was a living Alchemy Tower. Her scale of life was completely different from his, and so was her perspective. Even if the Raging Wind Sword Saint had the lifespan of a Sun Elf, he could live for three hundred and sixty years at most. To the Ant-man Empress, this was nothing. The war between the human kingdoms and the demons of the Abyss would likely last far longer than three hundred and sixty years.

In other words, the Ant-man Empress didn’t have to do anything. She just had to wait Victor out. Once he died, She would win.

If that was the case, why was the Ant-man Empress—or rather, Angelina—in such a hurry to restore the Alchemical Empire and seize the Lord of Radiance from the clergy?

There must be a crucial opportunity… the third demon invasion? That didn’t seem right. Before Sylvia’s Annihilation, a full-scale demonic tide was unlikely to erupt, just as the Pantheon Uprising had avoided the active period of the Spirit Knights. The Ant-man Empress didn’t know about the human kingdoms’ Spirit Knights yet; otherwise, She wouldn’t be so confident in inviting me to restore the Alchemical Empire with Her… Seizing control of the Lord of Radiance must hold some special meaning for Angelina, the specifics of which she would never reveal… So, how does she plan to seize the Lord of Radiance? When The Highest Council of the Alchemical Empire implemented the God Creation Project, they must have considered that the succession of the Lord of Radiance had to serve the ruling interests of the Alchemists and Archmages… Ordinary Alchemy Towers are soul-bound, but the Lord of Radiance must be bloodline-bound… The bloodline of a Wizard! Most descendants of a Wizard’s bloodline are mortals, and only mortals are powerless against the will of The Highest Council, just as most Tower Masters were chosen from the descendants of Wizards. The first Pope Inoc must have been a Wizard, and the Lord of Radiance’s Pool of Holy Power must be locked to his bloodline… Angelina was a Wizard once, but now She’s the Ant-man Empress… A Wizard? Could it be Beldina?! Could Bel seize the position of Pope?

As his X-3 processor worked at high speed, Victor landed on the most likely possibility: the missing Beldina. He said tentatively, “Do you know of Beldina? A little wizard I brought with me. She’s missing now… If I find her, what do you think I’ll do to her?”

The Ant-man Empress slowly straightened her slightly forward-leaning upper body. With the movement, a powerful aura expanded outward. An invisible force field, centered on the Ant-man Empress’s host, pressed against the surrounding trees like ripples.

Victor, a smile on his face, raised a hand to stop his Dragonkin handmaidens from stepping forward. He allowed the Ant-man Empress to unleash her psionic power. If She were to descend with even more of Her will into this high-ranking female ant, killing Her host then would surely cause Her great distress.

The Ant-man Empress did not give Victor the satisfaction. She reined in her psionic force field, stared into her opponent’s eyes, and sighed. “We are pawns… All Tower Masters are pawns.”

“What do you mean, pawns?” Victor asked, his expression grim as he retracted his Soul Rend spiked whip.

The Ant-man Empress said languidly, “Pawns are pieces that can be discarded at any time… If it becomes necessary to reclaim an Alchemy Tower, the mortal Tower Master can be killed. No Alchemist or Mage was willing to sever a portion of their Soul Fire to become a seemingly glamorous Tower Master. I vaguely remember my mentor saying that Mages and Alchemists who split their Soul Fire have great difficulty advancing, as an incomplete soul brings many disadvantages… Everyone said so, and I always believed it. Until that sudden incident, when all the Tower Masters in the Empire died at the same time.”

Victor said coldly, “I considered this problem long ago, but I don’t believe anyone can kill me through my Alchemy Tower now. You didn’t die, did you? Why don’t you tell me who eliminated all the mortal Tower Masters of the Alchemical Empire at once? The Gods of the Sanctuary?”

“I only share secrets and knowledge with allies. Are you my ally?” The Ant-man Empress shook Her head. “Your Highness Randell, you and I are both special. Your luck makes me envious. An unknown existence cannot eliminate an intelligent life-form of high status through a Tower Master’s sliver of Soul Fire. But when you fully become a Sun Elf, you will retract your Soul Fire, and your Alchemy Tower will no longer belong to you.”

“You can escape the identity of a Tower Master, but I have no path of retreat. Therefore, you are not worthy of my trust. I will not tell you any secrets about the Alchemical Empire. But I want to ask, Your Highness, one day you will abandon your Alchemy Tower, whether by reaching the end of your life or by giving it up voluntarily. Who do you plan to leave your Alchemy Tower to?”

Faced with this severe information asymmetry, Victor could only respond to the Ant-man Empress’s question with silence.

After a moment, the Ant-man Empress laughed. “You cannot decide the ownership of the Alchemy Tower, nor should you be the one to decide. Of course, neither can I. But Beldina can. Only she can become my ally. She is the hope for the Empire’s restoration.”

Victor asked in a low voice, “Out with it. What do you really want, appearing before me like this?”

“I want to make an agreement with you. Hand Beldina over to me, and agree to restore the Alchemical Empire with us. In return, I will serve you for the rest of your life. I will pass on the complete magical knowledge of the Alchemical Empire to Beldina. You must not obstruct this, nor can you harm her. Otherwise, I will lead my ant swarms to the human kingdoms to quell the rebellion, no matter how long it takes. Even if the demons of the Abyss make a comeback, I will never stop!” the Ant-man Empress declared firmly.

“Threatening me by siding with the demons?” Victor sneered in disdain. “I will never hand Beldina over to you.”

“That’s fine. As long as you don’t interfere with Beldina and me restoring the Alchemical Empire, you can even rule the Empire yourself.” The Ant-man Empress’s smile seemed to say to Victor: Even if you become the Emperor, your lifespan is still shorter than mine.

Victor pondered for a moment, then shook his head. “With your status, restoring the Alchemical Empire can’t be for the sake of chasing power.”

“Only when I acknowledge you as my ally might I tell you what it is that I pursue.” The Ant-man Empress shook Her head, then continued, “I’ll give you half a year to decide. Ann will remain nearby; you can contact me through her. During this time, the ant swarms will not actively attack you or your subordinates… After half a year, my Ant-man Legion will march on the human kingdoms. They will include War Ant Kings more powerful than Apollis. They will either serve you, or they will go to eliminate the Empire’s rebels.”

The Ant-man Empress’s descended will finally retreated. Victor had to admit it had been an incredibly frustrating conversation. His opponent held the initiative in terms of both information and timescale, leaving him at a disadvantage.

Although the Ant-man Empress hadn’t revealed much valuable information, Victor inferred that She could not absorb the Alchemy Tower’s creation crystals. In fact, the Soul Fire of the ant swarms would be preferentially absorbed by an activated Alchemy Tower.

This was a weakness of the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower, and Beldina was likely the key for the Ant-man Empress to overcome it.

Victor glanced at the high-ranking female Ant-man slumped on the ground and said, “Your name is Ann? It seems your Empress has abandoned you.”

With that, he and his two Dragonkin handmaidens, Dili and Fugerui, walked past the lonely, high-ranking Ant-man Ann and headed deeper into the forest.

Chapter 835: Self-Suggestion

After breaking contact with the Ant-man Empress, Victor ordered Dili and Fugerui to catch up with Charlotte’s group. Then, he headed alone to the place where Beldina had disappeared.

The hiding spot Swordsman Tao De and Blood Python Macy had chosen was indeed well-concealed. A wide forest river had washed away the tracks of the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard, and the lush vegetation teemed with wildlife, whose movements could distract any trackers.

It wasn’t easy for Victor to find Tao De’s group either. Fortunately, the Dragonkin handmaiden Mewen had used her hindsight talent to lock onto the location of Beldina’s disappearance. She had already rendezvoused with Tao De and Macy. Following the spatial coordinates Mewen provided, Victor arrived at the scene in less than two hours.

Upon seeing their liege lord, Tao De and Macy approached with trepidation to offer their greetings and proactively requested punishment from Victor.

Beldina’s mysterious disappearance was beyond Tao De’s and Macy’s capabilities. Victor wasn’t about to blame them, but he also saw no need to explain the complex turn of events. He simply asked Tao De and Macy to describe, from their own perspectives, everything that had happened before and after Bel’s disappearance.

Afterward, Victor repeatedly and meticulously questioned Reno and Shak, confirming their accounts had no omissions before personally inspecting the scene. Although Tao De had preserved the site, Victor couldn’t find any more clues. He then calculated Beldina’s possible range of movement based on her physical fitness, speed, and the time of her disappearance. Within that area, Victor and Mewen searched separately, but still came up empty. It was as if Beldina had vanished into thin air, leaving no trace behind.

This result did not surprise Victor. The fact that Bel had escaped the Dragonoid’s hindsight marker already indicated the intervention of an extraordinary power. And now, Victor’s unique Tracking Intuition was also ineffective on Beldina. This meant the little wizard’s characteristics had changed, though it was also possible that the forest environment was masking her trail.

Tao De suggested that an extraordinary being had used a power similar to “Jungle Stealth” on Beldina. His view had some merit, but Victor was more inclined to believe that Bel’s own will had played the primary role.

In the process of searching for clues, Victor unexpectedly discovered an exposed salt rock formation sixty kilometers into the forest. The scale of this surface salt mine was small and its salt content was low. Although herds of beasts frequented it, it wasn’t enough to attract a monster tribe to settle there. In the human kingdoms, a salt mine of this quality would have no extraction value, but for The Randell Expeditionary Force, having some salt was better than none at all.

Victor ordered the Dragonoid Mewen to mark the territory around the salt mine. Then, through their Mental Link, he instructed Dili and Fugerui to lead the remaining survivors across the river to gather and set up camp here.

This was just a minor task done on a whim. Victor continued to expand his search radius, spending several days mentally mapping an area of over eighty-seven hundred square kilometers, nearly the total area of the Randell Earldom. Several groups of beastmen were active in this region, and there was even an abandoned bear-monster lair. Victor avoided alerting the beastmen in the forest, but found no valuable clues.

Six days later, their search having yielded nothing, the group finally left the site of Beldina’s disappearance and headed for the rendezvous point to meet up with Charlotte’s party.

The rendezvous point was set in the forest near the surface salt mine. In the lush, green canopy, several half-cat, half-ape monsters spotted Victor and his group from afar, letting out high-pitched, piercing shrieks and baring four long, bone-white fangs. They were alerting their kin, but their ferocious and savage appearance left no doubt that they could leap down from the canopy at any moment and attack.

Tao De looked up at the monsters in the trees and gestured for them to be quiet, but the half-cat, half-ape creatures completely ignored him, continuing to call for their companions with their shrieks.

Tao De had no choice but to explain to Victor, “My lord, these are the aberrant cat-apes bred by His Excellency Imosen… I originally thought they were clever enough, but after just a few days apart, these beasts don’t recognize me anymore… My lord, the aberrant cat-apes should be carrying out Wizard Imosen’s orders to stand guard. They are summoning their kin and will attack us once they reach a certain number. Should I kill one to notify His Excellency Imosen that you have arrived?”

Victor smiled faintly, raised his right index finger, and pointed at the most raucous aberrant cat-ape. An air mass that had gathered from nothing abruptly burst, the shockwave snapping branches and blasting the aberrant cat-ape from its perch more than ten meters up in the tree.

The other aberrant cat-apes seemed to be frightened. They let out short, sharp cries, scrambled to higher branches, and hid among the leaves to silently monitor the intruders.

The aberrant cat-apes that had been rushing over from a distance also fell silent. The noisy forest instantly became quiet and grim.

The aberrant cat-apes had robust physiques. The fall from such a height only caused minor injuries; most of the damage came from Victor’s air blast. Still, their physique, strength, and agility didn’t reach the level of ferocious beasts. The key was their behavior patterns, which earned Victor’s quiet admiration.

The greatest weakness of Biological Aberrations was their mindlessness. These aberrant cat-apes could only retain memories for a few days, so they didn’t seem particularly intelligent. But when carrying out guard duty, they could restrain their bloodthirsty impulses, distinguish friend from foe, issue threatening warnings, and call their kin to swarm invaders. If a companion was struck down, they would switch to concealment and surveillance.

Their combat strength was only average, but they were certainly useful. They reminded Victor a bit of the Horned Wolf war beasts that the Church bred and improved. But if the aberrant cat-apes weren’t truly as intelligent as the Horned Wolves, then their behavior patterns were clearly the result of Imosen’s modifications using special methods. This indicated that Imosen’s Mind Body Wizardry was beginning to touch upon the Will Side of a beast’s soul.

Before long, Charlotte, riding an Alchemical Dragon-Lizard, charged out of the forest with the three Dragonkin handmaidens, Mewen, Dili, and Fugerui.

The blonde female knight leaped nimbly from the Dragon-Lizard war beast. She rushed forward a few steps, then stopped, her green eyes shimmering with tears as she looked timidly at Victor.

“Darling, I’m back.” Victor offered a gentle smile, opening his arms to his Concubine Knight.

Charlotte immediately threw herself into his embrace, sobbing ceaselessly as she said in a trembling voice, “Your Highness, I’m sorry, I failed to look after Bel. And Laila… Laila has perished…”

In the few months since she had been separated from Victor, Charlotte had experienced so much that it felt like several years had passed. Seeing the lover she had yearned for day and night, she could no longer restrain her emotions. But for Victor, these few months of separation had been very brief. He had previously spent days in contemplation just organizing his knowledge of charm, and upon waking, it had felt as if only a few seconds had passed.

Victor had learned the art of charm from the Dark Elf priestess. Although he was still far from mastering it, when combined with his knowledge jigsaw puzzle, he now had a very profound understanding of it. He could clearly feel Charlotte’s deep, thread-like affection. To a high-ranking Dark Elf, strong emotions were a form of bondage for both parties’ minds. Charlotte’s state was equivalent to being enslaved, but she also benefited from this relationship of servitude.

Victor’s high-ranking female knight lovers all possessed a strong independence, and the experienced female knight Natalia relied on Sophia. Only Charlotte relied on Victor as her sole pillar of support. She was both his Sworn Knight and his favored mistress, so it was only natural that she would receive the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s favor and pity.

Hadn’t Victor passed on the precious Poltanos Secret Art to Charlotte?

Emotions are a two-way street; Charlotte’s hesitation and anxiety also tugged at Victor’s heartstrings. He swept his pitifully lovely concubine into his arms, leaped onto the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard, and urged his war beast mount toward the camp.

Back then, to escape the pursuit of the War Ant King and its high-level guard ants, Charlotte had been forced to order the expeditionary force to disperse forces, splitting into groups of three to flee and hide deep in the forest. After Victor dealt with the War Ant King, recalling the scattered three-person teams was no easy task. Fortunately, Charlotte had equipped each team with two or three aberrant cat-apes. By summoning his Aberrant Beast retainers, Wizard Imosen was able to regather the dispersed expeditionary teams. Now, apart from Beldina’s mysterious disappearance, not a single person from the force was missing.

Currently, the core members of the expeditionary force with Victor included Charlotte, Caligula, Priest Dayne, Wizard Imosen, Swordsman Tao De, and Blood Python Macy, along with the three Dragonkin handmaidens. Under them were thirteen sword-wielding handmaidens, fifty-six Source-blood militia, six Elite Guards, eleven Alchemical militia craftsmen, as well as three Alchemical Dragon-Lizards, seven Alchemical Warhounds, four Bear-Dogs, and two hundred and six aberrant cat-apes, for a total of ninety-six people and two hundred and twenty war beasts.

The expeditionary force’s Alchemical militia had built a camp by the surface salt mine. In just a few days, they had constructed over a dozen wooden huts and log longhouses of various sizes, and had also dug four cisterns. The robust Source-blood militia transported water from the river several kilometers away, filling the pools to both solve the expedition’s water problem and to boil salt.

Over one thousand square kilometers of forest around the surface salt mine had been marked as territory by the Dragonkin handmaidens. The original masters of this forest were a few adult spotted tigers. Now, their beautiful pelts had been made into a soft rug by the new “lord,” Mewen, and presented to her Master.

Victor was currently lying on that tiger-skin rug with his Concubine Knight. Charlotte’s golden hair was spread out, her long, jade-like legs were curled, and her whole body was nestled lazily in her husband’s embrace. Her lake-green eyes shone with a blissful, contented light as she murmured, “Did Laila really not perish?”

Holding his radiant and bewitchingly beautiful Concubine Knight, Victor felt a secret sense of pride, thinking to himself: I really do prefer humans after all. By using the suggestion methods from the art of charm, based on human emotion, the Moon Goddess’s sacred object won’t so easily distort my self-perception.

He had used the art of charm on both Charlotte and himself. While comforting each other and enjoying the tenderness, he also reinforced his own human identity, basically resolving the drawbacks brought by the growth of his spiritual power.

In truth, using suggestion from the art of charm to twist one’s mental will carried significant risks. When cognition clashed with reality, the Will Side of a person’s soul could potentially collapse. However, Victor’s use of suggestion on the feelings between himself and Charlotte was not a problem.

Charlotte’s gratitude, infatuation, and adoration for Victor were nothing new. When Victor analyzed his own feelings, he had to admit that his affection for Charlotte stemmed mainly from a man’s pity, possessiveness, and vanity, lacking a sense of mutual, equal respect. It was just that as his Bloodline power grew, his feelings for Charlotte had also faded. This charm-suggestion was aimed at re-strengthening their relationship—in reality, strengthening the human part of himself. Because their relationship had an emotional foundation, the suggestion did not create a conflict between falsehood and reality, and thus posed no hidden dangers.

Thinking back now, Victor realized Sylvia had been prescient in forcing Charlotte into a corner and then giving her to him as a concubine. He had initially looked down on Charlotte’s strength and had planned to lure Young Lady Gillian Chapman to be his Sworn Knight. But a Silver Knight was already beyond the scope of an ordinary human, whereas Charlotte, a senior Bronze Knight, was a truly human female.

Charlotte’s existence was a constant reminder of Victor’s identity as a human male—an identity he was liable to gradually forget.

This time, “Freya’s Tear” increasing the upper limit of Victor’s Spirit attribute by two points was not just a small enhancement to his strength, but a massive improvement. One had to know that spiritual power was the foundational attribute representing the fire element, representing energy. With a two-point increase in his Spirit attribute, the diameter of Victor’s Blind Sense increased from 3.2 meters to 6 meters. If his Blind Sense range had expanded, what about his other Bloodline talents? Talents like Wind Walk, Super Sense, and Surge had all been enhanced as well. All told, the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s overall strength increase was not so simple as just two points.

On the other hand, in the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s Twin Talent Tree, the human bloodline was already weaker than the elven bloodline. Moreover, the human bloodline had almost no active talents; they were basically Transcendent combat skills formed by relying on the elemental affinity of the elven bloodline. For example, Body of Bedrock, Body of Gossamer, Soul of Water Mist, and Heart of Flame all relied on the elven bloodline’s Surge talent as their power source.

The problem was that Victor, this Mind’s Dominator, had not yet grasped Source Power, and the Moon Goddess’s sacred object had forcibly raised his Spirit attribute by two points. Now, every time he fought with all his might, he was strengthening his Moon Elf bloodline. Bloodline power could influence the mind, gradually changing his perception. Once the Will Side of his soul neared that of an elf, the result would be irreversible. Victor would proactively abandon his human bloodline and completely transform into a Sun Elf.

Even with stronger talent, Victor didn’t dare use it recklessly. So he found an unconventional way, starting from the most primitive human instincts and emotions. Using his concubines and lovers as reference points, he used charm-suggestion to strengthen the humanity in his Will Side, neutralizing the mental and bloodline influence brought by the growth of his Spirit attribute.

To put it simply, Victor now needed to fully enjoy Charlotte’s beauty and tenderness to regulate his body and mind and balance his Twin Talent Tree. Once he returned to the human kingdoms and was with Sylvia, he would not have to worry about the shift in his Will Side. Then he could slowly find a way to discover the theoretical human “Source Power” and completely grasp his own destiny.

However, Victor did not know what changes his clever method of resisting the hand of fate would bring to future events.

“Don’t listen to Dili and the others’ nonsense. Laila is just hibernating from severe injuries. She’ll be back,” Victor said, stroking Charlotte’s soft, golden hair with a doting air, as if caressing his own pet.

Charlotte obediently didn’t press further about Laila’s condition. Cuddling her lover, she sighed softly, “Lord Narsen’s whereabouts are unknown, and I lost Beldina… This is my fault, Your Highness. Please punish me.”

Victor pondered for a moment before asking, “You said before that when Beldina was outside the temple, she wished for Narsen and the others to escape safely?”

Charlotte thought for a moment and nodded. “Yes, Bel is a very kind child. When she heard from Mewen that Narsen and the others were in a bad situation, she hoped they could return safely.”

“Beldina, Beldina… She is the most talented Wizard I know of.” Victor sighed and shook his head. After a pause, he added, “Her talent for Wizardry might be even greater than that of the Klein siblings from over one thousand five hundred years ago.”

Charlotte couldn’t help but be moved. She stammered, “Darling, I didn’t expect you to think so highly of Bel.”

“Mmm,” Victor nodded. After thinking for a few seconds, he continued, “We all know Bel’s luck is very good. She wins almost any bet she makes… If I don’t cheat, I can’t even beat her.”

A smile appeared on Charlotte’s face. She said softly, “That’s right. The casinos in Laketon were all afraid of Bel. The moment they heard she was coming, they’d immediately close up for the day. In the end, the gang bosses who ran the casinos had to send Bel a sum of money or some fine snacks every month, just to beg her not to grace their establishments with her presence.”

Victor smiled as well, but his expression quickly turned serious. “Luck is a part of the Force of Destiny. Bel is doing more than just being lucky now. She may have started to make wishes.”

“Wishes? Who does she wish to?” Charlotte asked, blinking her beautiful eyes in confusion.

“She wishes to herself,” Victor said, his gaze burning. “It’s somewhat similar to the Great Divination of the Pope and the Pontiff, but the scope of the art of wishing is narrower than Great Divination.”

Charlotte raised a slender hand to cover her lovely red lips, exclaiming in shock, “Great… Great Divination? Bel can use that kind of power?”

If it were before, Victor also would not have been able to believe Beldina possessed an ability similar to Great Divination. But since the Ant-man Empress valued the little wizard so highly, believing she could seize the Lord of Radiance from the hands of the papal line, Victor had a clear inference.

“The process of Great Divination’s fulfillment is uncontrollable. Beldina’s art of wishing should have the same problem. For a simple wish, her good luck takes direct effect. For a more complex wish, the process of fulfilling it isn’t so simple.” Victor mused for a long time before continuing, “All things follow a certain order. What kind of person can have their wishes come true? A strong person… like me. If I want to eat roasted deer ribs for lunch, I send my elite warriors to catch a deer. If they can’t, I’ll go catch it myself. I’ll definitely be eating fragrant roasted deer ribs for lunch. For an ordinary person, if they went to catch it themselves, they’d most likely return empty-handed.”

“When Bel makes a wish, there must be a process to fulfill it. I speculate that the Flower Fey Beldina dreams of are actually manifestations of her wishes, guiding her step by step to realize them. In the process of fulfilling her wishes, Bel’s extraordinary powers will gradually awaken. When we see Bel again, she will no longer be the same Beldina.”

Charlotte asked hesitantly, “But… isn’t there any external force interfering with her?”

Victor placed a light kiss on Charlotte’s full, smooth forehead and smiled. “The process of Bel’s wishing will inevitably interact with the outside world, so of course it can be exploited by others. That person is likely the great Shaman among the descendants of Asoerta. They believe all things possess a spirit, and the Flower Fey Bel manifests are mostly based on the pan-consciousness of the Endless Forest, or in other words, the ‘spirit’… The Assyrian Shaman is communicating with Bel through the ‘spirit’ to manipulate her into achieving their own goals.”

Charlotte’s willow-like brows furrowed. She muttered to herself, “What do the Assyrians want Bel to do for them?”

“No matter what they want, Bel herself is extremely valuable. I believe she is safe for now. As long as we find the Assyrian settlement, we can find Bel. But we must hurry. Otherwise…”

Victor pulled his arm from his concubine’s warm, soft embrace and sat up. “Imosen and Caligula are back at camp. Let’s go see him. Hopefully, Imosen has learned some valuable intelligence from the forest beastmen.”

Chapter 836: Breakthrough in Source Power

Imosen had led a party out to search for his precious daughter. He was gone for more than ten days, and upon his return, his two sword-wielding handmaidens first helped him wash up, shave his beard, and tidy his appearance before he went to the log villa for an audience with his Master.

After the careful attention of his handmaidens, the Wizard’s spirits looked decent enough, but his eyes were bloodshot, and beneath his agitated expression was a deep weariness, like an insomniac who hadn’t slept for days.

When he first learned of Beldina’s mysterious disappearance, Imosen had appeared calm. He had even consoled Tao De and Macy, telling them not to blame themselves too much, saying that Bel used to love running around and would often disappear for days at a time. She had once even been captured by a band of Ogres. But the Ogres couldn’t bear to eat the little thing in one bite, so they decided to fatten her up to share later. The Ogre chief fed Bel the best meat and even made her a little nest in a wicker basket. When the Ogres migrated, the chief personally carried Bel and her basket on his back, terrified that other Ogres might steal her. By the time Imosen rescued Bel from them, the little girl had actually gotten much fatter.

Even His Highness Randell had been unable to find a trace of Bel, so Imosen the Wizard proposed asking the nearby beastmen gangs for information. Based on his experience living in the Great Marsh, he guessed that Beldina had once again fallen in with the forest beastmen.

Victor knew Imosen was deceiving himself. Beldina was grown now, not the ignorant and unwitting little child she once was. She had received the education of a handmaiden at Silver Moon Manor; there was no way she would go looking for beastmen in the forest to play with. But Imosen couldn’t imagine any harm befalling Bel. Even knowing that His Highness Randell’s search had turned up nothing, he absolutely refused to believe that Bel had truly met with an accident.

Seeing Imosen’s distraught expression, Victor could guess that he, too, had found no clues about Beldina.

“Beldina will be fine.” Victor patted Imosen’s shoulder, walked around to the other side of the round log table, and sat down. “Have a seat,” he said softly.

Imosen gave Victor a grateful look, bowed slightly as he sat, and asked with eyes full of hope, “My lord, you also think Bel will be alright?”

“Yes.” Victor nodded and said with a tone of conviction, “Bel’s abilities are very special… The Wizards of the ancient City-states called themselves the Chosen, naturally extraordinary. If Beldina were in ancient times, she would be among the most elite of the Chosen. Although your own extraordinary talent is not bad, it’s a far cry from Beldina’s. She won’t get into trouble that easily.”

“Right, right, right.” Imosen nodded repeatedly, as if comforting himself. “Bel’s luck is very good. Even Ogres and Half-dragons like her, and wild beasts never harm her… She’ll be fine. Right! She must be fine!”

Victor smiled and said to the Wizard, who was anxiously devoted to his daughter, “Relax. You don’t need to worry too much about Bel’s safety… Did you learn anything from the forest beastmen on your trip?”

Imosen took two deep breaths to compose himself, then shook his head with a bitter smile. “My lord, following the coordinates you provided, we intercepted six small beastmen gangs in the forest. They were mostly the common roving bandits, mixed groups of Gnolls and Goblins. There was also one group of beastman monsters I had never seen before. Their bodies were shaped like Goblins, but they were very tall, almost two meters when standing, and their heads looked a bit like a doe’s, so I called them Deer-Goblins…”

As the topic shifted to academics, Imosen the Wizard relaxed considerably and spoke at length. “Deer-Goblins live in groups. They have large eyes and are nocturnal. Their bodies are frail. Although they have two pairs of sharp canine teeth, their mouths are rather small, and they mainly eat plants, especially thorns and shrubs, but they also eat some insects… Although I call them Deer-Goblins, they are completely different from Goblins. Deer-Goblins have low intelligence, but their intuition is very sharp. They have many scent glands under their skin and repel enemies by emitting a foul odor…”

Victor asked with great interest, “Why didn’t you bring a live Deer-Goblin back?”

“Uh… my lord, you don’t know, but when Deer-Goblins release their scent, it’s incredibly foul. ‘White Bread’ threw up as soon as he smelled it. And Deer-Goblins are very stupid, even stupider than Fishmen. I couldn’t communicate with them at all. I was in a hurry to find other forest beastmen to ask about Bel, and carrying a stinking Deer-Goblin would have been very inconvenient, so we let it go.”

Victor nodded. “Continue.”

“The other five beastmen gangs had also never encountered humans before. They haven’t been in this forest for long; the largest group has only been reproducing here for less than six years.” Imosen lowered his head and said dejectedly, “They haven’t seen Bel, and there was nothing unusual in the forest around the time she disappeared… Lady Fugerui was present when I interrogated the captives. They were scared out of their wits by her, so I doubt they would have dared to lie.”

Victor said in a flat tone, “What about the two matters I entrusted to you?”

Imosen raised his head. Meeting Randell’s deep, dark gold eyes, a shiver ran down his spine. He composed himself and said respectfully, “Reporting to you, my lord, I made a point to ask about that abandoned Bear-monster lair, but none of the beastman-captives knew there had once been a Bear-monster tribe in the forest. In fact, they are weak, and their territory is small. Fearing the spotted tigers in the forest, they don’t dare venture into this area and instead huddle at the forest’s edge, surviving by gathering and hunting.”

“The captured beastmen confessed they had fled from the forest to the west. The lord there is a one-eyed Ogre who rules a powerful Ogre clan, called… the ‘Shattered Bone’ clan, I think.” Imosen frowned in thought, then explained helplessly, “Beastmen are chaotic by nature. Some Goblin captives said it was the Shattered Bone clan, while some Gnolls said Shredded Meat, or Broken Skull… I figured Goblins are smarter than Gnolls, so I chose ‘Shattered Bone clan’ as the name for the Ogre tribe.”

Victor interjected, “A beastman clan with a name has a line of succession, at least one hundred and fifty years old.” He paused, then added, “I surveyed that abandoned Bear-monster lair and deduced that they disappeared from this forest about ten years ago. The specific reason is unknown, but judging from the scale of the lair, this group of Bear-monsters was once a clan. We need to investigate the matter of this Bear-monster clan.”

Imosen asked in confusion, “My lord, the Bear-monster clan disappeared ten years ago, but Bel has been missing for less than half a month. Could these two events really be related?”

Victor did not answer the Wizard’s question. With a thought, a moment later, the Dragonkin handmaiden Mewen led Swordsman Tao De into the log house. “King,” she announced, “I’ve brought Tao De.”

Tao De, who smelled of salt, stepped forward and bowed to Victor. “My lord, Lady Mewen said you summoned me.”

Victor clasped his hands and rested his arms on the log table. He nodded and said, “I have a mission for you. Investigate the situation of the Shattered Bone Ogre tribe and the reason for the Bear-monsters’ disappearance. You can get the specific intelligence from Imosen later. I will have Mewen and Dili at your disposal. You can also invite a few more helpers and select twenty guards. The mission deadline is two months. The investigation should be as detailed as possible. Remember one thing: make full use of Imosen and the Dragonkin handmaidens’ abilities.”

After speaking, he turned to Imosen and instructed, “Philip II and III are both dead. During this mission, you must find a way to cultivate new large aberrant war beasts, and also increase the number of aberrant cat-apes as much as possible.”

“As you wish, Honored Master.”

“You are all dismissed.”

Tao De and Imosen bowed and withdrew. At Victor’s signal, the Dragonkin handmaiden Mewen led them out of the log villa.

Charlotte peeked into the living room from the inner room doorway, then darted inside, landing gracefully in Victor’s lap. She pouted her red lips and offered her Lover a sweet kiss, giggling. “I don’t have any proper clothes. I’m too embarrassed to meet everyone.”

The expeditionary force had been through several fierce battles in the Asoerta Mountains. Charlotte’s team had fought a retreating battle, abandoning many supplies, including non-essential clothing. All Charlotte had left was a suit of Thorium plate armor, her Inner armor, and undergarments. While the expeditionary force was camped and resting, she had taken off all her armor for maintenance. Emulating the Dragonkin handmaidens, she wore a beast-skin skirt and a beast-skin tube top, barely covering the crucial parts and revealing her fragrant shoulders, slender waist, and long, pale legs. Although this look was full of wild allure, Charlotte would never let others see her in such ragged clothes.

Victor was not much better off. He only had his personal set of Thorium Inner armor left; his outer garment was a tunic stitched together from various animal skins. He held his favored mistress and said self-deprecatingly, “If this goes on, we’re going to turn into savages.”

Charlotte shifted her position, wrapping her arms around Victor’s neck. With a gaze like rippling water, she asked, “Your Highness, is this the assimilation of the forest’s will?”

Victor nodded. “That’s right… So, we can’t let the Endless Forest assimilate us. Even if time is tight, we must pay attention to the details of our attire. While Tao De and Imosen are investigating the beastmen, your task is to lead the sword-wielding handmaidens to weave cloth from wild flax and make clothes.”

Charlotte asked softly, “Darling, there’s one thing I don’t understand…”

“Why I’m investigating the Bear-monsters and Ogres when Beldina is missing, right?” Victor explained with a smile, “Bel’s disappearance may or may not be related to the Bear-monsters and Ogres, but I’m at my wit’s end. I can only try my luck and see if I can find a new clue… Does the saying ‘all that has passed leaves a trace’ refer to physical traces? No. It actually means that what has happened cannot be changed, but the past inevitably influences the present… I only have one head, two arms, and two legs. It’s impossible for me to know everything, just as I didn’t find the Deer-Goblins when I searched the forest, but Imosen encountered this new monster. The Endless Forest is too vast, and the Raging Wind Sword Saint is not omnipotent. Since I couldn’t find any clues spatially, I can only try to seek possible answers through time.”

While enjoying the intimate affection of his Concubine Knight, Victor continued, “The Bear-monsters are special. They are beastmen who evolved from wisdom toward wildness. Only a very small number of Bear-monsters can reclaim their reason from that wildness—those are the Bear-monster Elders. They guide their clan members to worship an Ancestor God. Scholars of monsterology believe that Bear-monsters are the only sapient beastmen who retain ancestor worship. And the Assyrians’ ancestral spirit worship is a very important part of animism. On this point, the Bear-monsters and the Assyrians have something in common, not to mention they both live in the Endless Forest.”

In the following days, the expeditionary force split into two groups. Tao De and Imosen left the encampment, taking with them twenty soldiers, two Alchemical Dragon-Lizards, one hundred and sixty aberrant cat-apes. They also invited Caligula and the two Dragonkin handmaidens to accompany them to scout the periphery of the Shattered Bone Ogre clan’s territory.

Tao De had originally wanted to ask Father Dayn to join his team, but Dayne had expended a great deal of holy power in the recent battles. He could now only cast the most basic Divine Art of Holy Light, and the Holy Crystal Miller had entrusted to him also needed time to recover its holy power. The priest could only remain at the camp. Besides his daily prayers and meditation, he spent his time organizing men to boil ore for salt and to spin thread for weaving cloth.

With Father Dayn temporarily serving as the camp’s Steward, Charlotte was quite happy, leading her three sword-wielding handmaidens to focus on serving His Highness Randell.

Surrounded by beauties, Victor rarely left his log villa. He was not hopelessly lost in carnal pleasures; while enjoying their tenderness, he was also deeply researching the theory and practical application of the art of charm.

In truth, using mental suggestion to alter one’s mental state offered huge benefits, but it also came with certain risks. It all depended on the specific person conducting the experiment and the subject.

Macy had once served as a guinea pig for Tournans for a time. If it had been the Victor of that period conducting the secret art experiment, Macy would most likely have ended up dead or crippled, never becoming the “Blood Python” Macy she was today. But with His Highness Randell’s current skill, he could reduce the risks of mental suggestion experiments to a minimum.

However, Charlotte was not a good test subject. As an experienced female knight, her mental resistance was far higher than that of an ordinary person. By simply circulating her Aura, she could enter a rational state and shake off सामान्य a催眠. Shallow mental suggestion was basically ineffective on Charlotte, while deep subconscious suggestion would take a very long time and the difficulty would be nightmarish.

The sword-wielding handmaidens did not have this problem. For Victor, experimenting on them wasn’t even of ordinary difficulty.

From a young age, they had consumed the family’s secret potions, undergone rigorous training, and experienced three body reconstructions. While gaining beauty and strength, they lost the fertility of ordinary women, consequently becoming emotionally detached and reinforcing their obedience to their master, making them akin to death commandos. In a sense, the sword-wielding handmaidens secretly cultivated by House of Randell were the property of the Gold-Eyed Earl, to be given as gifts to the family’s vassals.

The key was their emotional coldness. The gentleness and charm the sword-wielding handmaidens usually displayed were all a trained facade. In reality, while they excelled at mental focus, their thinking was not very active. Although far better than a rigid Alchemical human, they lacked the nimbleness of an ordinary person’s mind. This mental shackle limited the potential of the sword-wielding handmaidens and all Mystic Warriors.

Without changing the physical condition of the sword-wielding handmaidens, Victor, relying on his own charisma and through the method of a master’s favor, managed to reverse the emotions of the three handmaidens, transforming their obedience into a fervent devotion, which then extended into a mental state of absolute trust.

Victor’s initial goal was to simulate a telepathic link in the sword-wielding handmaidens. He was surprised to find that the preliminary results of the experiment exceeded his expectations. The handmaidens’ physical and mental states underwent an astonishing change, faintly touching upon what had only existed in theory: Source Power!

One day, Victor took Charlotte and the sword-wielding handmaidens out of the camp and deep into the forest, selecting a large tree over fifty meters tall. He looked up at the canopy and said to one of the pretty handmaidens, “Lina, do you see that branch at the top of the tree? Do you think you can dance on it?”

Lina followed her master’s finger, gazed up at the dense canopy, and after a moment of discernment, nodded then shook her head. “I see it… I don’t think I can.”

Victor reached out and pinched Lina’s fair cheek, looked into her eyes, and said with a smile, “You can if you listen to me.”

A lovely blush appeared on Lina’s cheeks, and her eyes became crystal clear. She nodded vigorously. “If Master says I can do it, I can definitely do it!”

“Come, I’ll send you up.”

Victor held his arm out flat. Lina understood immediately, kicked off her sandals woven from vines, and with her fair, delicate bare feet, hopped onto her master’s palm. An instant later, she was sent into the air by an immense force.

A gentle breeze enveloped the sword-wielding handmaiden’s body. She moved nimbly, leaping between branches, and soon reached the highest branch of the canopy.

The branches of the ancient yew tree were thin and supple, with excellent elasticity. As Lina’s bare feet landed on the branch, it bobbed up and down. Even a Source-blood militia with an agility of fifteen points would have trouble standing firm, not to mention the branch was over fifty meters from the ground. It was inevitable that she would feel flustered.

“Lina, imagine the ground is very, very close, less than a meter away. The branch under your feet is a rope, and the other branches don’t exist. You are just dancing on a rope one meter from the ground.” Victor’s voice drifted up from below the tree. “Remember the Combat Breathing Method I taught you. Now, you may begin.”

Lina took a deep breath. With the tips of her toes on the swaying branch, she began to dance. Her body naturally rose and fell with the branch, her posture graceful and light, like a dragonfly skipping on water, or like a petal drifting with the current, refusing to sink no matter how high the wind and waves.

Victor was constantly monitoring Lina’s condition. Noticing her breathing become slightly rapid, he called out, “That’s enough. Now slowly stop. Very good. Be careful to find your footing, and come down.”

Lina leaped down from the yew tree, branch by branch. Halfway down, her legs suddenly gave out, and she plummeted straight down. Victor reached out and caught Lina, spinning a half-circle on the spot to dissipate the force of her fall. He held the limp sword-wielding handmaiden in a princess carry and, feeling that her heartbeat was still steady, gestured for the other two handmaidens to take care of her.

“It’s a phenomenon of exhaustion caused by insufficient inner potential,” Victor explained to Charlotte. “Lina will be back to normal after some rest.”

Charlotte nodded and asked in surprise, “Did Lina just ignite the fire of the mind?”

Victor frowned in thought. After a moment, he said, “It can only be considered a pseudo-fire of the mind. Lina’s spiritual strength is insufficient; it’s almost impossible for her to ignite the fire of the mind. Her state just now was temporary and a great burden on her body and mind. It could last for twenty breaths at most. Any longer, and she would certainly harm her body, possibly even sustaining irreversible damage.”

Charlotte shook her head with a sigh. “Lina didn’t have the blessing of a divine art, after all, but the effect was almost the same as the Divine Art of the Fire of the Mind.”

Victor smiled with delight. “Exactly… Aura, divine arts, Source Power, and a Wizard’s magic are all the same in essence, just different manifestations of spiritual power combined with inner potential.”

Charlotte took Victor’s arm, her eyes shining as she asked, “Your Highness, have you finally mastered Source Power?”

“No, not even close.” Victor gave a slight smile. “However, I have pushed open the great door to Source Power. There is still a long, difficult road ahead. Generally speaking, a Knight’s Aura and a Wizard’s magic are innate. By innate, I mean they are limited. A Knight or Wizard using extraordinary power will not exceed their own limits, and thus will not be injured. The Church’s divine arts also have models to constrain them, so they too will not exceed the recipient’s limits. This kind of extraordinary power is relatively safe. But an ordinary person’s Source Power is not innate. It has no limits and will damage the soul and body.”

Charlotte’s head was now full of question marks. She tried hard to understand what Victor was saying, but she just couldn’t grasp it.

Victor spoke almost to himself. “A person’s spiritual power combined with their inner potential can become extraordinary. The mind is infinite, but the body is finite. If a person’s mind believes their power can rival a giant white ape, the result of their spirit driving their inner potential would be the body’s collapse, leading to the soul’s collapse. Until I find a way to limit Source Power, it is just a concept, far from a success. But I have found a way to cultivate it. For now, there are only three elements: the power of inner potential, a breathing method, and mental suggestion.”

“Darling, you’re amazing,” Charlotte praised at the perfect moment.

Victor shook his head. “Besides needing limits, Source Power must also be freely usable. I can’t possibly give suggestions to every Mind Warrior. They must learn to suggest to themselves, to establish their own Source Power sigil. This creates a contradiction. Self-suggested Source Power lacks a standard of reference, and the power of the mind is boundless. If no one monitors the Mind Warriors’ physical and mental states like I did with Lina, they will never be able to limit the mind’s diffusion… Sigh, the concept of self-suggested Source Power is something even I don’t dare to try right now.”

“Ah, is that so?” Charlotte looked at Victor with a soft and alluring gaze, covered her mouth, and snickered. “That’s still quite amazing…”

She had, after all, been a full participant in the process by which His Highness Randell implanted the mental suggestions in his sword-wielding handmaidens.

Being teased by his own favored mistress, His Highness Randell was both amused and exasperated and was about to banter back. But just then, the Dragonkin handmaiden Mewen sent him a telepathic message: The team scouting the beastmen has returned.

Chapter 837: Honoring the Agreement

The concept of Source Power was initially just a hypothesis of Victor’s. He had been completely clueless, but now he had finally seen a glimmer of hope in the sword-wielding handmaidens. This matter could potentially usher in a new era for the human kingdoms, and more importantly, it was tied to Victor’s own destiny. He was unwilling to leave his test subjects for even a moment, as Lina’s current physical and mental state was also a very important piece of experimental data.

Unable to be in two places at once, Victor had his Sworn Knight handle the beastmen intelligence that Imosen and Tao De had brought back. He led the three sword-wielding handmaidens straight back to the wooden villa and spent the next ten-odd days holed up inside with them. On the one hand, he continued to strengthen his mental suggestions on the handmaidens; on the other, he needed to constantly observe the changes in their bodies and minds.

The wooden villa’s soundproofing wasn’t very good. His Highness Randell hid in the house all day with three sword-wielding handmaidens, refusing to come out, and strange, suggestive sounds often emanated from within. It was commonplace for nobles to dote on beautiful handmaidens, so the members of the House of Randell naturally wouldn’t disturb their master’s leisure. Only Father Dayne was deeply worried about His Highness Randell’s abnormal behavior.

The sword-wielding handmaidens of the House of Randell were quite pleasing in figure and appearance, but that was all. Their looks and disposition were a far cry from Charlotte’s. The handmaidens’ bones and muscles had been reshaped, giving them outstanding proportions and features, but the details of their bodies were markedly different from a true female knight’s. For example, their skin was smooth and fair, but that was the result of being cleansed with potions—an unnatural whiteness, whereas a female knight’s skin glowed with the luster of life. A sword-wielding handmaiden standing next to a female knight was like a candle next to a bonfire; her presence was utterly suppressed. Furthermore, if a sword-wielding handmaiden went a long time without grooming, calluses would form on her hands and feet, and the traces of wind and frost would inevitably appear on her face.

Regular nobles would typically not notice these minor flaws, but the imperfections on a sword-wielding handmaiden could not deceive the eyes of an Extraordinary Knight, and in front of His Highness Randell, they were completely exposed.

His Highness Randell was cooped up with the sword-wielding handmaidens every day. What Dayne feared most was that there was something wrong with His Highness himself.

In the human kingdoms, there were always some High-ranked Knights who liked to disguise their identities and mingle with mortals to resist the erosion of the Elemental Sea. His Highness Randell was not a Knight, so he didn’t have that problem, but he had been in contact with the High Elves. Dayne couldn’t help but suspect that His Highness Randell was imitating those high-ranked wandering knights, using the tethers of mortal women to fight the attraction the Elves’ Bloodline had on him.

Dayne didn’t know if the wandering knights’ method would work for His Highness Randell. But the human kingdoms were facing the threat of demons from the Abyss, and both the Church and the titled nobles needed His Highness Randell’s power. What if the method His Highness Randell adopted was ineffective, and he secretly ran off to find the Elves? What then?

Riddled with anxiety, Dayne sought an audience with His Highness Randell several times, only to be turned away by the Dragonkin handmaiden guarding the wooden villa. He went to consult with Lady Charlotte, but she merely gave him the runaround, achieving nothing.

In truth, Dayne had guessed half-right. Victor was indeed imitating the profligates among the regular nobles to strengthen his own sense of humanity. On the other hand, the matter of Source Power was too significant for Charlotte to ever reveal the truth to a priest of the Church.

The Dragonkin handmaiden wouldn’t let him see the Master, and Charlotte paid no heed to his counsel. At his wit’s end, Dayne was like an ant on a hot pan, pacing anxiously but unable to think of a good solution.

On the tenth day, Dayne suddenly received an invitation from Victor. He picked up the Holy Crystal bestowed upon him by Father Miller and followed the Dragonkin handmaiden Fugerui to the wooden villa. He had already made up his mind: first, he would examine His Highness Randell’s soul. If there was truly a problem that he couldn’t solve, he would do his utmost to persuade His Highness to return to the human kingdoms immediately.

As for Beldina and Lord Narsen, if they couldn’t be found, so be it. The Raging Wind Sword Saint was what mattered most!

Stepping into the living room of the wooden villa, Dayne saw the exceptionally handsome, black-haired, gold-eyed His Highness Randell sitting alone on a wooden chair. His eyes were clear and profound, seemingly no different than before. The priest quietly breathed a sigh of relief, bowed, and offered a greeting, “Good day, Your Highness. May the Supreme Lord of Radiance guide your path… Are you, ah, feeling well?”

Victor understood Dayne’s intentions and smiled with a nod. “My friend, I’m sorry to have worried you these past few days. I’m doing very well now, not a single problem.”

Dayne smiled awkwardly and sat in the chair opposite Victor. He asked cautiously, “Your Highness, my conversations with Lady Charlotte these past few days couldn’t have escaped your ears, so I won’t explain further. I’d like to use the Art of True Sight to examine your body, if I may?”

Victor shook his head and said, “I do need you to perform the divine art of true sight, but not on me…”

“Jane, come out for a moment.”

At Victor’s call, a handmaiden with shoulder-length brown hair walked into the living room from an inner room. She was beautiful, with a full chest and a slender waist, dressed in a thin flax shirt that revealed a pair of long, fair, and well-proportioned legs. Upon seeing Father Dayne, a blush spread across her face. She quickly curtsied, then hid behind Victor, clutching her chest with one arm while her watery eyes glanced toward the master of the house.

Dayne was incredulous when he saw the shy and captivating sword-wielding handmaiden. The clergy of the Church generally detested the secret art death commandos and sword-wielding handmaidens cultivated by the lords. Some fanatics even accused them of being soulless heretics that should be purified. This was all because the lords’ Secret Art Guards did not believe in the Lord of Radiance; they gave their absolute obedience only to their own masters.

However, for the Church to help the House of Randell train one sword-wielding handmaiden, the resources My lord Gold-Eyed Earl paid were enough for the Church to train three Sacred Warriors.

Dayne could do this math very clearly. In fact, the Church helping great lords train Secret Art Guards was simply a business deal. The lords got death commandos who could keep family secrets, and the Church reaped even greater benefits.

The sword-wielding handmaidens of the House of Randell looked like normal people, but they were far from ordinary. They lacked the emotional fluctuations of typical women and were merely skilled at feigning them. However, the Jane in Dayne’s eyes could be shy, and the way she looked at Victor was as if coated in honey. That sweet happiness, which came from the bottom of her heart, did not seem feigned; it was no different from a woman deeply in love.

In just half a month, a sword-wielding handmaiden who had undergone strict training since childhood had transformed into a young woman experiencing the first awakening of love? His Highness Randell undoubtedly possessed such charm, but why would he spend his time on a sword-wielding handmaiden?

Under Father Dayne’s puzzled gaze, Victor turned to look into Jane’s eyes and said softly, “Ignite the fire of the mind.”

Upon hearing this, the sword-wielding handmaiden lowered the arm covering her chest, and her blue-gray eyes became crystal-clear and bright. Dayne’s heart skipped a beat. Suppressing his inner speculation and suspicion, he recited a prayer, and a layer of sacred, white-gold light veiled his eyes as he used the Art of True Sight to observe the state of Jane’s soul.

After about six breaths, Victor spoke, “Jane, you can stop now.”

The sword-wielding handmaiden’s luminous eyes immediately dimmed, the color drained from her lovely face, and she looked mentally exhausted. Victor offered a few words of comfort and encouragement, telling Jane to go rest in the back bedroom.

After the sword-wielding handmaiden had left, he turned to the frowning, contemplative Dayne and asked, “What were the results of your examination?”

Snapping back to his senses, Dayne pondered for a moment before nodding in reply, “Jane just ignited the fire of the mind, but that shouldn’t be possible. She… oh, no, Your Highness, how did you do it?”

Every full knight could ignite the fire of the mind, and on average, one in eighty Ferocious warriors could do it, but for ordinary people, including Sacred Warriors, igniting the fire of the mind was exceedingly difficult. This was a long-standing statistical experience of the Church, and Jane’s performance upended Father Dayne’s understanding of the fire of the mind. Although she had indeed ignited it, the strain on her inner potential and spirit was immense. Logically speaking, given her current physical condition, it should have been impossible for her to ignite the fire of the mind.

As far as Dayne knew, no Secret Art Guard had ever ignited the fire of the mind, not a single one… otherwise, the price the Church charged noble families for training Secret Art Guards would have to be increased fivefold!

Victor nodded and said, “Igniting the fire of the mind uses spirit to mobilize inner potential, and the inner potential in turn enhances the spirit. When both spirit and inner potential rise to a certain level simultaneously, a state of mind-body unity is achieved. If the mind is not active, the spirit will not be active, and it would certainly be impossible to ignite the fire of the mind. The biggest problem for Secret Art Guards is that their minds are not active enough. As for Jane, I used some special methods to liven up her mind, removing the obstacle to igniting the fire.”

Special methods? They were very special, Dayne complained internally, lowering his head to hide the strange expression in the depths of his eyes.

Victor saw the priest’s subtle movement and felt helpless. He had had a “reputation for romance” ever since he was a minor noble. In truth, compared to Sword Saint Draven, who left a trail of broken hearts everywhere, he was practically morally upright. But most nobles were only willing to believe the salacious gossip they loved to hear and couldn’t care less about the truth.

Victor asked with a calm expression, “Is there a problem with a sword-wielding handmaiden serving her master?”

Dayne quickly shook his head, coughed, and said with a fawning smile, “No problem, no problem at all. In fact, I think it is their honor and good fortune to be able to serve Your Highness.”

The priest’s attitude was very proper. Victor was greatly pleased and nodded with a smile, “Well said. It is their good fortune. The Secret Art Guards trained by lords have shackles of the mind, which prevent their spiritual power from growing. I have unlocked the handmaidens’ shackles of the mind… well, to be precise, I replaced their lock with a new one. From now on, they can increase their own spiritual power, but they will never defy my will.”

Dayne vaguely felt that His Highness Randell had become more approachable now, more like a spirited young noble. This was clearly a good thing. The priest adopted a tone of inquiry, following Victor’s lead, and said with great sincerity, “Your Highness, I don’t quite understand what you’re saying.”

Victor shot the priest a triumphant glance and nodded. “If you don’t understand, just keep listening. You can ask questions when you’re starting to get the gist of it.”

“Yes.”

Victor mulled it over for a moment, then continued, “There are two types of the fire of the mind. The most common is the one you ignite yourself, which is a passive talent of mind-body balance. The other is ignited by an external force, such as the Divine Art of the Fire of the Mind… you should be very familiar with that.”

Dayne thought for a moment and nodded. “Yes, the fourth-tier divine art of the fire of the mind can help most people temporarily achieve a state of mind-body unity. The higher a person’s spiritual power and the stronger their inner potential, the better the divine art’s effect and the longer it lasts. But for those with weak bodies and listless spirits, the effect of the divine art is not very significant.”

Victor clapped his hands and interjected, “That’s precisely Jane’s problem. Her inner potential and spiritual power are stronger than an ordinary person’s, but still not enough to ignite the fire of the mind on her own, because her Spirit attribute hasn’t reached the minimum requirement. When I give her the command, she attempts to ignite the fire, and her inner potential must supply her brain to compensate for the lack of spiritual power. This places a heavy burden on her body, and she can only maintain it for twenty breaths at most. If I don’t rescind the command in time, Jane’s inner potential will be exhausted, she will lose a massive amount of life force, and ultimately die.”

Dayne’s heart pounded with fear. His hands and feet grew cold, and a fine sheen of cold sweat broke out on his forehead. He only half-understood Victor’s words, but Victor giving a command and the sword-wielding handmaiden Jane igniting the fire of the mind—wasn’t that just like a divine art bestowed by the Supreme Lord?

If this were a different setting, with a different person, Dayne would have shouted “Heretic!”, ordered the Sacred Warriors to seize the evil-doer who had usurped divine authority on the spot, and sent him to be burned to ashes on the Weeping Angel Rack. But here, facing the Raging Wind Sword Saint, Dayne didn’t even have the courage to look him in the eye.

Victor seemed not to notice the priest’s terror and unease, asking to himself, “Can a person hold their breath until they die?”

The living room was silent. After a while, Dayne raised his head and forced a smile, “Your Highness, how could that be possible?”

Victor grunted in acknowledgment and asked again, “You’ve heard the story of the refugee woman who overturned a carriage, haven’t you?”

Dayne composed himself and answered, “I have… It happened many years ago in the Kingdom of Sus. An ordinary refugee woman saw a cart laden with goods about to run over her son, and she single-handedly overturned the freight wagon. The strength she displayed was no less than that of a Bronze Knight, but she failed to save her son and died on the spot. Afterward, the tomb keeper examined the mother’s body and found that all her muscles and bones were fractured, and she had died from massive internal bleeding. The story of the refugee woman overturning the cart to save her son caused a sensation, and the Bards sang of it far and wide. Most nobles have heard of it.”

Victor interjected, “A great mother, seeing her child in danger, in a moment of desperation, surpassed her own limits and overturned a freight wagon weighing more than ten thousand pounds with one hand… For an ordinary refugee to display such astonishing power means that a person can be suffocated by their own will. If he firmly believes he can hold his breath for a longer time, his lungs will stop working, surpassing the body’s limits, and he will suffocate to death.”

“Link the refugee mother who overturned the cart to save her son with the Church’s fanatics… Dayne, do you have any thoughts?” Victor asked with a smile that wasn’t a smile.

Dayne’s gaze met His Highness Randell’s deep eyes. A bitter smile appeared on his face as he pleaded, “Your Highness, can we change the subject?”

“Fine, we’ll change the subject.” Victor smiled and nodded. “The technique I used on the sword-wielding handmaidens originated from the Dark Elf priestesses of the Underground Kingdom. It’s a kind of mental charm. The Dark Elves can charm and enslave most creatures, including the Black Blood Demons in the Assyrian Temple. A Dark Elf priestess can command her demon servants to burn their souls and inner potential, unleashing combat power beyond their limits, which of course also leads to the demon servants dying from exhaustion.”

Dayne couldn’t help but steal a glance at the inner room connected to the living room, asking in a low, uncertain voice, “Your Highness, did you use… mental charm on the sword-wielding handmaidens?”

Victor rubbed his nose, his expression a little sour as he said, “I’m not a Dark Elf; I don’t possess a natural talent for charm. I can only use a mental suggestion technique on the sword-wielding handmaidens.”

The priest of the Lord of Radiance instantly heaved a sigh of relief. If His Highness Randell’s mental suggestion technique was only effective on his favored attendants, then it wasn’t a major problem. Based on what he had observed of Victor and the sword-wielding handmaidens these past few days, Dayne believed his judgment was correct. He offered praise with a beaming smile, “Your Highness is exceptionally charming and profoundly knowledgeable. As a great scholar of the Silver Spire, it is remarkable that you could create a mental suggestion technique based on the Dark Elves’ charm…”

Victor raised a hand to stop Dayne’s flattery, saying with some displeasure, “You don’t understand the importance of the mental suggestion technique at all… Never mind. I need you to do me a favor.”

Dayne said with a serious expression, “Please speak, Your Highness. I will certainly do everything in my power.”

“It’s not exactly a favor,” Victor said thoughtfully. “It’s an agreement between myself and Father Miller. He gave me the Holy Crystal, and I promised to teach you the Source Blood Secret Art that I created.”

“Source Blood Secret Art?” Dayne’s interest was piqued. He asked, “Your Highness, are you referring to those elite warriors in the expeditionary army?”

Victor smiled. “You saw through it long ago. Their strength surpasses that of ordinary Secret Art Guards, their physical fitness is comparable to that of Bronze Knights, and their stamina is even greater. The elite soldiers in the expeditionary army are all third-level Sourceblood Warriors I secretly trained.”

So it was Lord Miller’s arrangement… Dayne was finally and completely relieved. He realized that he wasn’t really qualified to judge whether His Highness Randell had usurped the authority of the Supreme Lord; he had just been subconsciously afraid that His Highness would silence him by killing him. Since this was an agreement between Lord Miller and His Highness Randell, there was nothing to worry about. He let out a long breath and asked excitedly, “Your Highness, you’re preparing to give me the method for training Sourceblood Warriors?”

“I have no such intention.” Victor looked Dayne up and down and said bluntly, “The Source Blood Secret Art is very precious. Tournans didn’t share the more advanced combat technique secret arts he created with us, so why should Sylvia and I give the Source Blood Secret Art to the Church? The Church is the Church, and the lords are the lords. We are all very clear on this distinction.”

Dayne was dumbfounded. “But, Your Highness… you promised Lord Miller…”

“I was lying to him!” Victor waved his hand impatiently and said righteously, “In any case, you’ve already followed me on this expedition into the Endless Forest with the Holy Crystal. I’ll just trick that old man Miller this one time.”

The Raging Wind Sword Saint was welshing on a deal with an Attendant of Radiance. Dayne could only keep his mouth shut and remain silent, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a hint of complaint in Victor’s tone.

Sure enough, His Highness Randell shook his head and said with a wry smile, “It’s not so easy to get out of a debt to that old man Miller… On this expedition into the Endless Forest, we not only saw Black Blood Demons, but we also clashed with them. The threat of demons from the Abyss to the human kingdoms is no longer a guess… I can teach you the Source Blood Secret Art, but not the level one, two, and three arts. It will be the more advanced level four Source Blood Secret Art. However, the level four art is not yet perfect. There’s no risk in you cultivating it, but you will have to cooperate with me.”

Then, Victor described the features of the level one to three Source Blood Secret Arts to Dayne, without going into the specific cultivation methods. He finally summarized, “The previous Source Blood Secret Arts were purely Forging Methods. The level four Source Blood Secret Art is what I envision as a true combat technique secret art. It includes a Forging Method that can enhance inner potential and spirit, a mental suggestion technique, and the Randall Combat Breathing Method. Someone who cultivates the level four Source Blood Secret Art should be able to, like Jane, use their spirit to mobilize their inner potential and their inner potential to promote their spirit, gaining all sorts of incredible abilities… Temporarily igniting the fire of the mind is too difficult, and the burden on the spirit and inner potential is too great. But, in theory, a level four Sourceblood Warrior could freely increase their physique’s toughness, their burst strength and agility, enhance their Elemental Resistance, heighten their Perception, rapidly recover stamina, feign death, Self-Heal, and so on…”

Victor thought for a moment and said in a low voice, “The most difficult part of the level four Source Blood Secret Art is the mental suggestion. I have mastered some mental suggestion techniques, but I can’t possibly reach the level of a Dark Elf priestess… Therefore, the level four Source Blood Secret Art is currently missing the mental suggestion component. Father Dayne, are you willing to learn the incomplete level four Source Blood Secret Art?”

Dayne basically understood. His Highness Randell was exceptionally charismatic and always attracted the adoration of the opposite sex. His mental suggestion only worked on women and couldn’t be widely applied. Therefore, the level four Source Blood Secret Art was missing its key component, mental suggestion, making it incomplete. But what did that matter? Mental suggestion was similar to a clergy’s faith in the Lord of Radiance. The Church had many ascetic monks who walked the path of fanaticism to obtain great power.

The incomplete level four Source Blood Secret Art was practically tailor-made for the clergy. Only a fool would refuse to learn it. His Highness Randell truly was a “Saint” of the Church… Dayne was ecstatic. He stood up and bowed solemnly to Victor. “Your Highness, I am willing to learn the level four Source Blood Secret Art from you.”

Victor sighed inwardly; Father Dayne’s reaction was just as he had expected. The principle by which clergy shorten their lifespan by overusing divine arts, which consumes their inner potential, was actually the same as mental suggestion. But a Divine Art Model had a framework and limitations; there was a cooldown period for using divine arts, so they wouldn’t die on the spot. Mental suggestion was different. When Victor gave a suggestion to the sword-wielding handmaidens, prompting them to mobilize their inner potential and enhance their spirit, that was the enslavement of the Dark Elves, not the Source Power he needed. When clergy entrusted their conviction to the pan-consciousness that was the Lord of Radiance, that was holy power, which was also not Source Power. True Source Power should, and must, be self-suggestion. To put it bluntly, it was a case of tricking oneself. Tricking oneself into burning one’s soul and bursting forth with inner potential while maintaining a clear consciousness created an unsolvable paradox.

No matter how vast one’s inner potential or how high one’s Spirit attribute, it couldn’t solve this self-contradiction. Victor’s own Life’s Inner Potential was vast, and his spiritual power exceeded forty points. Yet, when his Soul Boil had allowed him to glimpse the divine realm, he would have perished if Miller hadn’t woken him in time.

With that lesson learned, Victor didn’t dare plant a seed of mental suggestion in himself.

He had finally, through great effort, pushed open the door to Source Power, only to find a dead end. The frustration he felt was immense.

Ultimately, Victor couldn’t give up. He thought of a method: borrowing a hen to hatch eggs. He would use the Radiant Church as an incubator to hatch the “dead egg” of Source Power.

In truth, he knew in his heart that his hopes would probably be dashed. In the long history of humanity, there had been many talented and brilliant powerhouses. If they had been able to solve the paradox of self-suggestion, Source Power would have emerged long ago. It wouldn’t be up to Victor to pioneer a new extraordinary realm.

However, the level four Source Blood Secret Art would be of great help to the Church. Since the third demonic tide could potentially erupt in full force, facing such a crisis, only cooperation could lead to a win-win situation. With Victor’s breadth of mind, he wouldn’t jealously guard his secret techniques like a stingy miser. Otherwise, when disaster struck, it would be too late to do anything.

Of course, Victor still held something back. The Apostle School he and Sylvia had secretly formed could not be revealed to the Radiant Church. On the contrary, he hoped that once the Church obtained the prototype of the level four Source Blood Secret Art from Dayne’s hands, they would mobilize the ascetic monks in their Monasteries to make further improvements, which would in turn benefit the Apostle School.

From the current look of things, creating Mind Warriors by force-feeding them potions was inevitable, but the level four Source Blood Secret Art, which integrated the Combat Breathing Method, still had considerable potential to be tapped. Church powerhouses like Tournans might bring Victor an unexpected surprise. The examples of the Gryphon Combat Technique and the Gray Wolf Combat Technique showed that competition, cooperation, and mutual learning were the paths to greater progress.

Victor gathered his thoughts and nodded at Dayne. “Alright. The level four Source Blood Secret Art—I’ll teach you as I think of it.”

“Ah?” Dayne’s eyes went wide as he asked in disbelief, “Your Highness, the level four Source Blood Secret Art… you haven’t even designed it yet?”

Victor chided, “Isn’t that obvious? If I’d already finished it, what would I need you for?”

Dayne instantly felt like he had fallen into a huge pit. He pointed at his own nose and stuttered, “Then I’m…”

“Like Macy was before, and I am like Tournans. You can understand that, can’t you?” Victor shook his head and let out a laugh. Seeing the pained expression on the priest’s face finally cheered him up a little. He stood up and said, “Let’s go. It’s about time I checked in on Imosen and Tao De.”

Chapter 838: The Forest’s Cover

More than ten days ago, Imosen had already gathered intelligence on the forest beastmen, but Victor was engrossed in studying the Art of Suggestion and hadn’t personally inquired about the mission’s progress. It wasn’t until today that Imosen finally received a summons from his Master. He immediately dropped his work raising Aberrant Beasts and hastily rode his Dragon-Lizard war beast back to the expedition camp.

Under a canopy built from branches and vines, Victor and the key members of the expeditionary force were gathered in a circle. Imosen strode into the shelter, panting as he bowed to his Master. “My lord, good day…”

The Wizard was wearing his Python-skin Thorium inner armor, his flushed face streaked with grime where sweat had run down. He looked disheveled and anxious.

Charlotte wrinkled her nose slightly. The weather was growing warmer, and although the expeditionary force was spinning thread and weaving cloth to prepare summer clothes for everyone, most of them didn’t yet have flax garments to change into. Imosen was still in his armor, drenched in sweat from the heat, and the sour smell was quite strong.

“Your Excellency Imosen, there’s no need to rush regarding Bel’s matter. Please, go and tidy yourself up first, then you can have an audience with our liege lord.” His Highness Randall’s Concubine Knight rose and summoned the Wizard’s two sword-wielding handmaidens to take him to a wooden hut to wash up.

Even in a savage jungle, one must not forget their identity and customs; they had to do their utmost to avoid being assimilated by the Endless Forest. Charlotte always remembered Victor’s reminder, believing that by upholding the etiquette of civilized kingdoms, she could help her Master resist the pull of his elven bloodline. She couldn’t imagine what she would do if she lost Victor.

After being fussed over by the two favored attendants his family had assigned him, Imosen changed into a sleeveless flax shirt and returned to the campsite’s canopy. Under the stern gaze of the sworn female knight, he once again greeted Victor with proper etiquette before finally taking his seat. In an urgent tone, he said, “My lord, I have completed the tasks you assigned me.”

Victor had already learned about Tao De and Imosen’s progress, as well as the intelligence on the surrounding forest beastmen, from Charlotte. Still, he nodded to the Wizard, who was desperately worried about his daughter, and said, “Mm, tell us about the mission.”

Imosen paused for a moment before speaking. “My lord, a few days ago, Tao De and I managed to capture a few Hobgoblins. From them, we learned that this forest was originally the territory of a band of Bear-monsters. About twenty years ago, the last Elder of the Bear-monster clan died of natural causes, and no new Elder emerged. The Ogres of the Shattered Bone clan then invaded the Bear-monsters’ territory, driving them into this rather desolate forest where we are now. The Shattered Bone Ogres also enslaved the Goblin tribes living in the Bear-monster forest. Later, under pressure from the Shattered Bone Ogres, the remaining Bear-monsters abandoned their lairs nine years ago, surrendering this forest to the Shattered Bone clan.”

“Currently, the Shattered Bone clan controls about fifteen thousand square kilometers of forest territory. Their core members consist of over two hundred Ogres, more than four hundred Gnoll henchmen, and over four thousand Goblin slaves. In addition, there are five other beastmen gangs that pay tribute to the Shattered Bone clan, trading for their own patches of forest from the Ogres. The Hobgoblin I captured was one of the leaders of such a gang.”

Victor said with a smile, “To capture a prisoner, you flattened their whole gang?”

Imosen scratched his head and said awkwardly, “These beastmen gangs are very vigilant. We secretly captured a few regular Goblins, but they immediately started moving toward the Shattered Bone clan’s territory. Regular Goblins are dim-witted and have limited knowledge, so Tao De and I had no choice but to pursue them and capture a more intelligent Hobgoblin. The gang’s Gnoll leader was very cunning and escaped ahead of time, which in turn drew the Shattered Bone Ogres over…”

The forest’s produce cannot compare to the bountiful Northern Wildlands, and the Shattered Bone clan is much smaller in scale than the Ogre tribes of the wildlands, but their territorial awareness is much stronger. Imosen’s defeat of the Ogres’ peripheral servants provoked the Shattered Bone clan’s vigilance and reaction. While Victor was engrossed in the Art of Suggestion, the two sides engaged in several probing conflicts. Imosen’s aberrant cat-apes suffered a sharp decline in numbers at one point, but the Shattered Bone Ogres gained no advantage. Imoson the Wizard, in coordination with the three Dragonkin handmaidens, crushed their attacks, killing a total of over four hundred Ogres, Goblins, and Gnolls. The flesh and blood of these beastmen corpses became Fodder for the Wizard to cultivate Biological Aberrations. The total number of aberrant cat-apes, instead of decreasing, actually increased, now reaching three hundred and eleven. If Imosen hadn’t been focused on cultivating an aberrant bear, the number of cat-apes would be even higher.

Imoson the Wizard’s ability to sustain war with war would inflict immense suffering on his enemies. Unless the Shattered Bone clan mobilized its entire force to eliminate the Wizard in one fell swoop, Imosen would eventually be able to defeat them completely.

Not only did the Shattered Bone clan not do this, but they also established a decent relationship with Imosen. This was because Imosen was a Beast-tongue Shaman. Following Tao De’s plan, he adopted a policy of not killing those who surrendered. The belligerent Ogre Brutes were all dealt with by the Dragonkin handmaidens, while the surrendered beastmen carried Imosen’s desire for communication back to their clan’s territory. After five small-scale conflicts, the leader of the Shattered Bone clan finally learned to talk things out properly.

“I’ve asked. The Ogres, Hobgoblins, and Gnolls here have never seen humans, never seen Assyrians… They’ve never seen Bel.” Imosen’s voice held a choked sob as he asked, “My lord… what do you think… Bel… where on earth did she go?”

All eyes gathered on Victor. They all cared for Beldina from the bottom of their hearts and hoped His Highness Randall could offer some direction in the search for her.

Victor sighed, looked at Caligula, and asked, “Aka, do you think Bel is still alive?”

Caligula’s eyes were red as he said, “Aka thinks Bel is still alive. Aka doesn’t know where Bel is. Master, can you help Aka find Bel, please?”

Victor nodded and asked again, “Then, does Aka think Narsen and the others are still alive? Which direction are they in now?”

Caligula rolled his eyes, thought for a long while, and then stammered, “Narsen and the others… They’re alive, right?”

The big simpleton clearly didn’t care enough about Narsen and the others; his Touch of the Mind gave no feedback on Narsen’s whereabouts or condition.

Charlotte grasped Victor’s hand and asked with concern, “Your Highness, could Narsen and Klaus’s disappearance have something to do with Bel’s?”

Victor said grimly, “Don’t forget, Beldina wished for Narsen and the others to be safe. How that wish is fulfilled is Bel’s problem, and I don’t know the specific method, but for Bel to confirm their safety, the most likely way is for her to see them with her own eyes. If we can find Narsen, we might be able to find Bel. But…” He paused and gave a wry smile. “Narsen and the mid-rank combat professionals of the Elven Empire escaped through an underground dark river. No one knows their location now.”

Imosen’s voice trembled as he asked incoherently, “My lord, is there no other way? I, we could go find those Bear-monsters… You mentioned the Bear-monsters, that they worship Ancestral Spirits. Maybe they have a way to find Bel…”

Victor shook his head and said, “Beldina is, in all likelihood, with the descendants of the Assyrian Empire. I once suspected the forest Bear-monsters had a special relationship with the Assyrians because they share the commonality of Ancestral Spirit worship, but I couldn’t be certain there was a connection. Therefore, I only assumed that the Bear-monsters and the Assyrian Shamans could communicate, just as you have exchanges with the Ogre clan to avoid a fight to the death. This would mean the Bear-monster clan and the Assyrian Shamans could coexist peacefully; they could be neighbors.”

Father Dayn seemed to have understood something and asked, “Your Highness means that because this was once the Bear-monster clan’s territory, the settlement of the Assyrian Empire’s descendants might be nearby?”

Victor glanced at the priest, nodded, and said, “This possibility has already been ruled out. I’ve surveyed the surrounding environment. This is a vast rainforest with a crisscrossing network of rivers and waterways, and a great variety of flora and fauna. Compared to other woodlands, the produce of the rainforest is more abundant, and its complex terrain makes it easy to hide, which is very suitable for the Azoretta people to thrive and multiply. However, the fact that the Shattered Bone Ogres migrated nearby and defeated the Bear-monster clan is enough to prove that the Azoretta people’s settlement is not in the vicinity.”

The Bear-monsters might be able to coexist with the Assyrians, but the Ogres could not. Everyone understood this reasoning.

Victor pondered for a moment before continuing, “On the other hand, I learned a key word from the divination prophecy of the Silverhawk City Dwarf Prophet—lake. The Dwarf Prophet explained that the lake is a turning point for life. His previous divination prophecies have all come true, up until the point when the Wild Elf General and Narsen jumped into the Sacrificial Pit of the Asoerta Temple. Below it is an underground dark river, which might lead to a lake. That’s why General Moonsong dared to lead the surviving mid-rank combat professionals to escape through that underground dark river.”

Charlotte’s eyes lit up. “Your Highness is saying that because Bel wished for Narsen and the others to escape danger, she and Narsen might meet? And since Beldina is likely with the Assyrian Shamans, the rainforest environment is not only suitable for the descendants of the Assyrian Empire to survive and procreate, but it also has many lakes?”

Hearing this, Imosen stood up in pleasant surprise and said, “My lord, then we should first find the lakes in the rainforest, and then look for the settlement of the Asoerta descendants?”

Victor shot the Wizard a sideways glance and retorted, “How do you plan to search? The lakes in the rainforest are countless. Even if we could find every single one, who would stake them out? What if we miss Narsen and Beldina on the timeline?”

Imosen was speechless. He glanced furtively at Father Dayn, his lips moving as he whispered, “We could enslave some Goblin beastmen to help…”

Dayne picked up a wild fruit from the log table and tasted it carefully, as if he hadn’t heard what the Wizard had just said.

“It’s too time-consuming… I have a better way to find the settlement of the Assyrian descendants.” Victor stood up and began to walk away, with the Dragonkin handmaiden Dili automatically following him.

“Your Highness, where are you going?” Charlotte also stood up and called after him.

“I’ll be away for a while. You all remain at the camp, prepare supplies, and raise the war beasts. Try to avoid conflict with the Shattered Bone Ogres. You can contact me through Mewen if anything comes up.”

Ashen Forest.

In just two short months, the forest that had been burned by the Dragonkin handmaiden Laila was once again bursting with life. Tender green shoots grew wantonly amidst the black charcoal. Perhaps in another half a year, this several-hundred-square-meter patch of ashen forest would be restored.

Ann used her nimble forelimbs to grab a large clump of vines, half-reclining on the ground to savor them in small bites. The newborn vines were tender and juicy but offered limited nutrition. For a high-ranking ant, this amount of vine was nowhere near enough to fill its stomach. At this moment, Ann dearly missed the sugar nectar secreted by the worker ants—it was thick, sweet, and just one full drink could sustain it for ten days without food.

Thud. A fat wild boar suddenly fell beside Ann. Warm blood splattered on the vines, and the rich, coppery scent tantalized Ann’s appetite. It heard a familiar voice from not far away, “Poor Ann. Were you abandoned by the Empress, or by the swarm?”

The gold-eyed, black-haired human appeared before Ann with a female Dragonkin with two horns on her head. He spoke in a pitying tone, “An Ant-man without its swarm has no reason to exist, yet you still know to eat. Are you desperate to be accepted again by the Empress, or are you just unwilling to give up?”

Ann had long been aware of the powerful human’s arrival but was powerless and disinclined to resist. Picking up the still-twitching wild boar, it tore it apart and ate in silence, ignoring the human’s words.

Victor observed the high-ranking female Ant-man, who was absorbed in eating, with great interest. Its lower body was no different from an ordinary Ant-man’s, but its upper body was more like a humanoid creature’s. Its highly anthropomorphized face was quite beautiful, though it was actually covered in a layer of supple chitin, and it lacked the hair of a human female. It ate with ferocious savagery, devouring the wild boar skin, bones, and all, its mouth dripping with blood.

Before Ann could take another bite, Victor directly called out in the common tongue of the Alchemical Empire: “Angelina.”

A vast will descended upon Ann, seizing control of its body. An invisible psionic force sucked the blood and bits of flesh from around its mouth into its stomach, restoring its clean and tidy appearance. The Ant-man Empress dropped the wild boar leg Ann had been clutching, raised her eyes to look at Victor’s mocking smile, and said with a frown, “Your Highness Randall, you’re embarrassing me on purpose. You have no gentlemanly conduct whatsoever.”

Victor raised an eyebrow and said coolly, “I’m just curious. How have you maintained your human habits over the long span of twenty thousand years?”

The Ant-man Empress shook her head and replied, “That is a precious mystery, but right now you are an enemy, not an ally. I have no need to answer that question.”

Victor shrugged and said nonchalantly, “Fine. Whether we are friends or foes can only be decided after we find Beldina. Right now, I can’t find her, so I can only come to you for some information. First, was Beldina abducted by the descendants of the Assyrian Empire? Second, do you know what the Assyrians’ purpose is in doing so? Third, what information can you tell me about the settlement of the Assyrian Empire’s descendants?”

The Ant-man Empress retorted, “This is a competition between you and me. Whoever finds Beldina first gains the advantage. Why should I answer your questions?”

Victor curled his lip in disdain. “The ant swarms are destroyers of the forest, but compared to the Endless Forest itself, their power is minuscule. The forest’s pan-consciousness originates from an Ancient God. On what grounds can you contend with Her? The Endless Forest is assimilating your swarms at every moment, yet you insist on fighting its pan-consciousness. The only result of this resistance will be the forest’s rejection and malice. If I’m not mistaken, within the ants’ range of activity, the forest must have awakened a mechanism specifically to resist being devoured by the swarm. That’s why the aging Ant-men must travel far from the forest to forage elsewhere, only to be consumed.”

The Ant-man Empress was silent for a moment before saying with admiration, “A very unique insight… That’s right. The trees around the nest can transmit a certain kind of information to each other. When they are gnawed upon by a large number of worker ants, the entire forest rapidly secretes a special toxin that can poison some of the young. For the swarm to forage in the forest, it must spread out far and wide, so far that the swarm is forced to split into small colonies.”

“Since you’ve already figured that out, then in six months, I will have to send my swarm toward the human kingdoms to forage until they are depleted.” The Ant-man Empress said indifferently, “But this foraging trip will include high-ranking ants and prime soldier ants… Shouldn’t Your Highness Randall consider tailing the swarm and killing the low-ranking guard ants to empower your Alchemy Tower?”

This was precisely what troubled Victor. He wasn’t actually certain that the Ant-man Empress couldn’t find the Azoretta people’s settlement. If he went off to hunt the low-ranking guard ants in the Ant-man tide, the Empress might seize the opportunity to snatch Beldina from the Assyrian descendants.

Victor said with a serious expression, “I’m certain the ant swarm cannot find the Azoretta people’s settlement. If you wish to preserve the possibility of cooperation, then tell me some useful information.”

“Speaking in such absolutes is not a good thing.” The Ant-man Empress curled her lips into a smile. “The Assyrian Shamans know how to use the forest’s spirit to hide their settlement. It’s not easy for me to find them, and you’re only a little better off. But I have hundreds of thousands of Ant-man subjects, while you only have a pathetic few dozen followers. Why don’t we have a contest and see who finds Beldina first?”

As she spoke, Ann’s eyes became vacant and lost; the Ant-man Empress’s will had left its body. Victor stared at the high-ranking female Ant-man with its silver-white carapace, his tone imbued with an uncompromising force as he said to it, “You have two choices now. Either follow me to find the Beldina your Empress wants so badly, or stay here. But I won’t be coming back, and your mission will be over!”

Chapter 839: Triggering a Change

The Asoerta Mountains.

Ann clung to the steep cliff face like a tiny ant. She scrambled up with all six limbs, her psionic shield scraping against the sharp rocks and sending a shower of grit tumbling down. She moved swiftly toward the top of the cliff, vaulting over the edge in a matter of moments.

On the desolate summit, two slender figures were gracefully receding into the distance, about to disappear from Ann’s sight. Not daring to hesitate, she planted her four limbs on the dark red rock and chased furiously after them.

Ann had been following the human known as “His Highness Randell” and his Dragonkin for six days. When His Highness Randell first demanded she accompany him, Ann wasn’t entirely resistant, just somewhat at a loss. She continuously sent messages to the sovereign of the ant swarm, requesting instructions, but the result was the same as always. The sovereign gave no response to her pleas; she remained unable to connect to the ant swarm’s psionic network.

Ann had finally accepted the fact His Highness Randell told her: she had been abandoned by the ant swarm. His Highness Randell had also told her another fact—that she had not been forsaken by the sovereign of the ant swarm and could still return to the collective, but this depended on His Highness Randell’s will.

Only by acting as a channel of communication between His Highness Randell and the sovereign of the ant swarm would she have a chance of being accepted back. That was what Ann believed. In truth, Victor judged that the probability of the high-ranking Ant-man Ann returning to the ant swarm was close to zero. The moment she lost the last of her usefulness, the Ant-man Empress would likely dispose of her.

The War Ant King Apollis had once defied the Empress’s will. Did he pursue his own perfection by challenging powerful opponents in order to resist the sovereign of the ant swarm?

This question was worth deep consideration.

At the very least, the Ant-man Empress’s control over the high-ranking Ant-men wasn’t ironclad. She had ruthlessly killed Apollis’s high-ranking guard ants rather than sparing them. This puzzled Victor slightly, as the Art of Suggestion he had applied to Apollis and his guard ants was extremely subtle and well-hidden. Assuming the high-ranking guard ants weren’t killed because Victor had implanted mental suggestions in them, then the Ant-man Empress’s execution of those high-ranking ants was likely related to some vulnerability within the ant swarm.

Ann had also been one of the War Ant King’s guards. There was no reason for the Ant-man Empress to spare her.

Victor’s experiments with the three sword-wielding handmaidens had failed to resolve the conflict with Source Power, but his proficiency with the Art of Suggestion had grown considerably. The high-ranking Ant-man Ann had now become material for Victor to further hone this art.

When Victor killed the War Ant King Apollis, he had already planted a seed of mental suggestion in the high-ranking Ant-man Ann. Victor intended to finish the job. He took Ann with him, moving eastward and using various covert methods to strengthen his mental suggestion on her along the way. The high-ranking Ant-man went from initial silence to listening to Victor’s words, then gradually began asking him questions. Now, Ann chased after Victor with all her might, terrified of being left behind. She had grown accustomed to being by His Highness Randell’s side.

To be precise, Victor’s Art of Suggestion had worked on Ann, and both she and the Ant-man Empress were completely unaware of it.

Victor didn’t expect this to turn Ann into one of his pawns, because the Ant-man Empress would most likely execute her. However, as a high-ranking Ant-man, Ann herself was a source of valuable intelligence. By understanding Ann through the Art of Suggestion, Victor was learning the weaknesses of the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower and the Ant-man Empress.

Victor was not an Alchemist, merely a Tower Master who had inherited the legacy of the Empire. The Mage Angelina had arrogantly assumed that by placing restrictions on the Will Side of the high-ranking Ant-man, she could prevent Ann from leaking secrets to Victor. But she didn’t know that His Highness Randell’s most terrifying trait was his ability for Deduction, seeing the whole picture from a single detail. Even if Ann couldn’t reveal critical information, Victor could make fairly clear judgments from her body language and her reactions to questions. By cross-referencing this with his knowledge jigsaw puzzle, he would adopt any information that was self-consistent with the puzzle and set aside any contradictions for later. In this way, Victor was sketching out a rough framework for the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower.

This framework might not be entirely accurate yet, but it was open-ended. As long as he discovered new information, Victor could add it in, moving ever closer to the truth.

Victor held Dili’s slender hand, allowing a light breeze to envelop them both. Without even needing to break into a run, their forward speed was astonishingly fast, and crossing mountains felt like walking on level ground. Ann had the stamina to keep up, but her speed was a notch below Victor’s Wind Walk. She could only fall behind, keeping her eyes fixed on the backs of His Highness Randell and the female Dragonkin.

Victor controlled the distance this way, gathering data on the high-ranking Ant-man Ann’s physical attributes, movement speed, psionic power, and so on, adding it all to the Ant-man subdirectory of his knowledge jigsaw puzzle.

After crossing the Asoerta Mountains and entering the forest on the eastern side, Ann followed His Highness Randell, pressing onward. Monkeys in the treetops shrieked sharp warnings at her, and a reckless tiger roared and chased after her from behind. Everything here felt new and fascinating to Ann.

Gradually, Ann noticed that the animals around them were becoming scarcer, and an oppressive silence permeated the forest. His Highness Randell and the female Dragonkin, who had been leading the way, came to a halt. Ann slowed her pace and slowly walked over.

Victor turned back and said to Ann, “This is the Forest of Despair, named after a powerful monster… Come on. We’ll be able to see it soon.”

Ann followed His Highness Randell through the silent forest and up a high mountain. She immediately saw the powerful monster—it was composed of a black, gelatinous substance, slumped limply in a blackwater lake, writhing about aimlessly. It was only this movement that convinced Ann it was a living monster and not a pile of mud.

Victor’s summary description of it was: a pan-conscious collective, a demigod-level elemental undead creature, a Colossal Slime Behemoth, and a byproduct of the Assyrian descendants’ offerings to the Realm of All Spirits and the Black Blood Sovereign over the past fifteen hundred years. In short, the Lord of Despair.

“Ann, what do you think of this monster? Could the ant swarm destroy it?” Victor asked softly.

The high-ranking female Ant-man stared at the behemoth in the distance, maintaining her usual silence, as if she hadn’t heard His Highness Randell’s question.

Victor smiled faintly and said to himself, “The Lord of Despair has many souls, making it very difficult to destroy. However, the Assyrians’ Realm of All Spirits has now stabilized, and the Lord of Despair has lost the Origin that sustained its form. It will soon perish on its own… in about two or three hundred years, I suppose.”

Ann could finally no longer contain her curiosity and asked, “Is two or three hundred years ‘soon’?”

Victor nodded. “Of course. For an extraordinary pan-conscious existence like the Lord of Despair, two or three hundred years is indeed ‘soon’… Ann, I have taught you a great deal of knowledge, but I haven’t mentioned pan-consciousness to you yet. Are you interested?”

A flicker of longing appeared in Ann’s eyes. Her mouth moved, and she said honestly, “Yes, I want to know.”

Without pausing, Victor continued, “Intelligent individuals all possess curiosity; it’s the driving force of learning, and you high-ranking ants are no exception. Your curiosity was previously suppressed by the ant swarm’s pan-consciousness, as all your attention was focused on your leader, the Ant-man queen, or the Ant-man king. Now that you’ve disconnected from the ant swarm and become an independent, intelligent individual, your curiosity has grown stronger, allowing you to think about certain issues independently.”

Ann thought for a moment, then asked, “What does this have to do with pan-consciousness?”

“One must understand the individual to understand the collective. Only by first grasping the difference between the individual and the collective can you understand what pan-consciousness is.” Victor mused for a moment before continuing his explanation, “Individuals possess individuality. The common ground between these individualities converges to form a collective commonality, and this group awareness can be understood as a pan-consciousness. But because this group awareness is based on the foundation of individual consciousness, the pan-consciousness lacks higher individual ideologies like thought, emotion, and curiosity. It is a form of instinctual commonality, pursuing the survival and development of the collective.”

Ann said, confused, “I… don’t understand.”

It would be strange if she understood without a systematic education, Victor thought smugly, continuing to guide the high-ranking Ant-man according to his plan. “When an individual consciously begins to think about how to represent the survival and development of the collective, it may become possible for them to mobilize the collective’s pan-consciousness and become a god-like existence, like your Ant-man queen, and the Ant-man king… So, does the Empress who rules the ant swarm represent the needs for the ant swarm’s survival and development?”

This question was planted like a seed deep in Ann’s mind. Before it could take root and sprout, Victor pointed at the Lord of Despair below and said, “Go down there. Get close to it, and you can see the characteristics of a pan-conscious entity with your own eyes.”

Ann glanced at the enormous black slime monster and said without hesitation, “I’m not going down.”

Many pale, flame-like gazes from the Colossal Slime Behemoth were fixed on Ann on the cliff. Even if the high-ranking Ant-man lacked a danger sense, she knew that the moment she went down, she would be attacked by the Lord of Despair.

The Lord of Despair fed on the life force and souls of living creatures. A portion of its Slime Behemoths had already locked onto the high-ranking Ant-man Ann, but the other Slime Behemoths were still crawling about aimlessly. Since the individual consciousnesses of the Slime Behemoths could not act in unison, the Lord of Despair could only remain where it was, unable to go anywhere.

Victor was now certain that high-ranking Ant-men were natural life forms, not alchemical creatures with natural attributes like the Dragonoids.

To be precise, high-ranking Ant-men were natural life forms with the characteristics of alchemical creatures. By extension, the nature of the entire ant swarm was either the same as that of the high-ranking Ant-men, or they were in the process of transforming from alchemical creatures into natural life.

In the Gloomy Forest south of the Gambis Kingdom, there was a species of monster, half-goat and half-ape, that were suspected to be Satyr warrior alchemical units that had transformed into natural life.

This was a very important piece of information. Based on this, Victor deduced that the Ant-man Empress and the Tower Spirit of the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower were not one and the same.

Regarding the special relationship between the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower’s Tower Spirit and the Ant-man Empress, Victor set this question aside for the time being. He took out the Four Seasons Wizard King’s Soul Mask and threw it forcefully toward the Lord of Despair at the foot of the cliff.

The Crystal Mask, caught in the wind, traced a high arc through the air, flying several thousand meters before landing on the Lord of Despair and slowly sinking into the black gelatinous mass. The head closest to the Crystal Mask actively moved over and placed the mask on its own face.

In that instant, the Colossal Slime Behemoth began to boil and tumble like scalding water. All the heads hidden within its body ignited with pale Soul Fire. The points of Soul Fire converged, as if silently proclaiming: the Pale Sovereign has arrived!

“The Crystal Skull of the Assyrian Wizard King is in your hands.”

The Ant-man Empress’s consciousness descended upon Ann almost simultaneously. She watched as the Pale Sovereign dragged its massive, heavy body out of the blackwater lake. Her tone was grave, with a hint of mockery, as she asked Victor, “Do you have any idea what you’re doing, Your Highness Randell?”

Victor responded in a calm voice, “You have hundreds of thousands of Ant-man subjects; I have only a few dozen followers. You can send aging worker ants to hunt and be expended in the human kingdoms, and you can command high-ranking Ant-men to lead soldier ants in searching for Assyrian settlements. I can only lead my limited followers to try my luck in the vast, endless forest… But what about now? The Pale Sovereign will lead me to the Assyrian settlements, and it will guard the Assyrian descendants. This fellow may be muddle-headed, but it’s not easy to deal with. I plan to bypass it and infiltrate the Assyrian settlement to find Beldina. What are your plans?”

The Ant-man Empress’s options were all part of Victor’s plan. The Pale Sovereign now occupied the body of the Colossal Slime Behemoth. It was dim-witted and enormous, but it had no fatal weakness. Fighting it would be a battle of attrition. If the Assyrian settlement was guarded by the Pale Sovereign, the Ant-man Empress sending a small number of high-ranking Ant-men to infiltrate would be met by the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s interception, which was tantamount to suicide. The Empress could only mobilize the Ant-man army for a direct confrontation with the Pale Sovereign, then send an even larger number of high-ranking Ant-men into the Assyrian settlement to compete with Victor.

This way, the Ant-man Empress could no longer send thousands of aging worker ants to invade the Centaur Hills.

Expending aging worker ants to replenish the soldier ants was a standard operation for the ant swarm. Whether the ant swarm attacked the Pale Sovereign or the human kingdoms, the effect of culling the old would be the same. But Beldina’s significance to the Ant-man Empress was extraordinary, especially now that the ant swarm was transitioning into natural life. How Angelina would continue to control the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower would likely fall upon Beldina.

Victor had always maintained a clear boundary: until he found a way to restrain the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower, he could not push the Ant-man Empress into a mutually destructive struggle. This meant ensuring Beldina’s safety.

The Assyrian Shaman had absconded with Bel from the The Randell Expeditionary Force, clearly not with the intention of killing her. Bel was safe for the time being, but the longer things dragged on, the more complicated the situation would become. That was why Victor had thrown the Four Seasons Wizard King’s Soul Mask to the Lord of Despair, helping the Pale Sovereign of the Realm of All Spirits obtain a demigod-level avatar. No matter how well-hidden the Assyrian settlement was, as long as Victor followed the conspicuously large Pale Sovereign, how could he fail to find the remnants of the Assyrian Empire?

To take a step back, even if the Pale Sovereign didn’t return to the Assyrian settlement, Victor would lose nothing. The Four Seasons Wizard King’s Soul Mask had no real value to him. He believed that the Pale Sovereign, having obtained the Lord of Despair’s avatar, might even compete with the Ant-man Empress for the Asoerta Temple. This would also create huge trouble for the ant swarm.

The Pale Sovereign’s fortress-like body was now crawling toward the Asoerta Mountains. In its wake, trees toppled, leaving a trail nearly a hundred meters wide. Many more Slime Behemoths from the Forest of Despair were gathering around the Pale Sovereign, merging into its slime body.

The Ant-man Empress withdrew her gaze from the Pale Sovereign, turned, and said to Victor, “You can’t get in.”

“What?” A sudden sense of unease crept into Victor’s heart. He frowned and asked his question.

“Neither I and my Ant-man subjects, nor you and your alchemical creatures, can enter the settlement of the Assyrian descendants.”

The Ant-man Empress paused, then continued, “Just as the Realm of All Spirits cannot affect high-level life forms, our wills cannot enter the Realm of All Spirits rewoven by Beldina. This is because Beldina’s power is insufficient to affect beings of our level—you, me, the Pale Sovereign. Unless… we eliminate the Pale Sovereign’s avatar. Only then will the Assyrian settlement emerge from the cover of the Realm of All Spirits and return to the real world… Your Highness Randell, you don’t understand what Bel will become, but you can guess whose face the Pale Sovereign will place the Four Seasons Wizard King’s mask upon. And that suits my purposes perfectly.”

The Ant-man Empress controlled Ann’s body to leap off the cliff, and without looking back, she mocked, “You don’t believe me? Then let’s just wait and see.”

Chapter 840: Relocation

The Pale Sovereign’s incarnation was like a moving fortress. Each time She crawled, She covered more than two hundred meters. While She appeared to move sluggishly, Her speed was actually astonishing, though still no match for the mobility of a high-ranking Ant-man.

The Ant-man Empress manipulated Ann to tail the Colossal Slime Behemoth from a great distance, with Victor following Ann in turn. They crossed the majestic Asoerta Mountains, entered the great forest to the west, and journeyed continually to the northwest. The Pale Sovereign plowed a wide path through the dense forest; wherever She passed, trees toppled, startled birds and beasts scattered in panic, and the beastmen and monster tribes trembled in fear. Along the way, the Pale Sovereign did not release any Slime Behemoths to hunt animals. She crawled onward with an unstoppable momentum for more than twenty days, forded wide forest rivers, and penetrated deep into the rainforest that the Randell Expeditionary Force had discovered, finally coming to a halt near a large lake.

She dragged Her enormous body into the vast lake, causing the water to overflow and submerge the shores before She plunged into the depths, vanishing from the surface. It was clear that the Colossal Slime Behemoth had flattened its body, spreading itself across the lakebed to merge with the silt at the bottom.

The misty, vast lake stretched beyond the horizon, interwoven with a network of crisscrossing, interconnected waterways. Who could imagine that a terrifying Colossal Slime Behemoth was hidden in such a complex and shifting aquatic environment?

Victor had dealt with the Pale Sovereign before, and more than once. The impression She had left on him was one of a confused mind and sluggish thoughts. Although She had no fatal weaknesses, Her low intelligence meant that the threat She could pose, whether to the Randell Expeditionary Force or the Ant-man army, was very limited. This implied that while the Ant-man Empress would find it difficult to eliminate the Pale Sovereign’s incarnation, it was not impossible.

Now, with the Pale Sovereign choosing such a lakeside region as Her new base, Victor had to re-evaluate his previous assessment. As far as he knew, the Ant-men were not adept swimmers. They had almost no hope of winning a fight against a Demigod-level Undead Creature in deep water. To say nothing of over a hundred thousand aging worker ants, even if the entire swarm mobilized, the Pale Sovereign’s incarnation could drown them all in the lake.

On the other hand, the environment of this region was extremely complex, dotted with interconnected rivers, coves, and swamps. The Pale Sovereign could easily split off Slime Behemoths and, leveraging Her ability to survive without breathing, disperse them underwater throughout the rainforest. This gave Her immense tactical flexibility, allowing Her to flank, attack, hide, sneak, and retreat with ease.

Victor’s initial judgment was that under these circumstances, it would be highly unlikely for the Ant-man Empress to destroy the Pale Sovereign’s incarnation using conventional methods.

Therefore, this judgment led to more hypotheses, including the possibility that the Ant-man Empress possessed the correct method to deal with the Pale Sovereign’s incarnation. Perhaps She didn’t even need to destroy the Pale Sovereign to gain control of Beldina… Or perhaps, by controlling Beldina, She would control the Realm of All Spirits, and thus, the Pale Sovereign?

Victor wouldn’t believe the Ant-man Empress’s words, much less be swayed by Her rhetoric. His focus was on the Pale Sovereign and the descendants of the Assyrians.

The hiding place the Pale Sovereign had chosen was quite ingenious, not the act of a fool. Did this mean that after the Lord of Despair put on the Wizard King’s mask, the leader of the Assyrian descendants had contacted the Pale Sovereign and guided Her incarnation to choose this lake as a refuge?

The answer was obvious. If the Pale Sovereign’s incarnation had no connection with the Assyrian descendants, then Victor’s act of delivering the Wizard King’s mask would have been meaningless.

The fact that the mentally confused Pale Sovereign had suddenly become “smarter” proved that Victor’s speculation was largely correct.

The Pale Sovereign’s slime incarnation, under the cover of the rainforest’s waterways, could split off Slime Behemoths to control the vast rainforest and effectively support the settlements of the Assyrian descendants. The Slime Behemoths created by the Assyrian descendants could also travel through the river channels into the great lake where the Pale Sovereign was hiding, constantly replenishing Her losses and enhancing Her power. Otherwise, the Pale Sovereign’s incarnation would soon collapse.

This was because a pan-conscious collective in an elemental state was rejected by the laws of the world. The Lord of Despair was only able to sustain himself by relying on the domain power of the Realm of All Spirits. The center of the Realm of All Spirits was the Asoerta Temple, and its influence extended over the Forest of Despair. If the Lord of Despair were to leave the domain of the Realm of All Spirits, the same collapse that afflicted the Black Blood Sovereign would befall Her. No matter how foolish the Pale Sovereign was, She would not have been seeking Her own demise by demanding the Four Seasons Wizard King’s Soul Mask from Victor for the Lord of Despair. She must have had a way to sustain Her own incarnation.

After the Black Blood Sovereign’s death, the Ant-man Empress had wasted no time in seizing the Asoerta Temple, occupying the central region of the Realm of All Spirits. In that case, how would the Assyrian Shamans and the Pale Sovereign, who were attempting to revive their empire, respond?

Relocate the Realm of All Spirits.

Only by doing so could the descendants of the Assyrians evade the Ant-man Empress’s might, find another secluded place to rebuild the Assyrian Empire, and Beldina was the key for the Assyrian Shamans to relocate the Realm of All Spirits.

Putting it another way, the “divine kingdom” that the Assyrians had managed for tens of thousands of years might fall into Beldina’s hands, and Father Miller had foreseen this long ago!

Over fifteen hundred years ago, an Archwizard from the Pantheon rebelled, causing the papal line to fall from its throne, its power waning ever since. At the same time, a Wizard from the Pantheon fled to the Endless Forest, carrying a barbarian sacred object. Victor noted that this sacred object had actually been seized by the true Pantheon from the barbarians and the mountain Dwarves at the end of the Blood Sacrifice War, an event that took place more than nine thousand years ago.

The Trigoval family, who controlled the religious inquisition, tracked that Wizard to the Endless Forest, where they encountered the Assyrian Empire and the Ant-man swarms. The Ant-man Empress induced the Trigoval family’s Paladin to disrupt the Assyrian Wizard King’s blood sacrifice ritual. This led to the awakening of the Black Blood Sovereign, and the Assyrian Shamans lost control of the Realm of All Spirits. However, the Assyrian Wizard King somehow managed to trap the Ant-man Empress’s core consciousness within the Realm of All Spirits, where it was suppressed by the Black Blood Sovereign, leaving her unable to command the ant swarms personally.

This was certainly disadvantageous for the Ant-man Empress. At the very least, the ant swarms’ evolutionary process towards natural life spun out of control, and the War Ant King Apollis would even resist the Ant-man Empress’s will.

The Assyrian Shamans had a plan to control the Black Blood Sovereign, but the Randell Expeditionary Force and the Elven Empire foiled their plans, with the Ant-man Empress, disguised as the Lord of Sorrow, also playing a significant part. In reality, with the Black Blood Sovereign slain by Victor and the Elven Empire recovering “Freya’s Tear,” the Assyrian Shamans had lost everything. However, when the Pale Sovereign and the Assyrian Shamans saw Beldina… the little wizard had become their lifeline.

But, one mustn’t forget, it was Father Miller who had sent Beldina here!

Such a timely rescue… Was Miller really so kind-hearted as to send Beldina to save a group of heretics who worshipped pan-spiritism?

If one assumed that the Realm of All Spirits could remedy a certain flaw in the Lord of Radiance, then the Ant-man Empress’s so-called imperial revival and Miller’s prophetic plans would all make sense.

As Victor sorted out the sequence of events, he instead uncovered an even greater mystery. The key was the sheer scale of the timeline—from the Pantheon Warlock stealing the barbarian sacred object, to the rebellion of the fake Pantheon, and now to His Highness Randell’s expedition, a total of over nine thousand years had passed. A scheme of this magnitude was beyond the limits of mortal power, and its ultimate goal was shrouded in dense fog. Even with Victor’s wisdom, he could not see through to what the mastermind truly wanted.

Recently, two questions had been swirling constantly in Victor’s mind.

Who was Father Miller?

And who was the Ant-man Empress?

Beldina was the key to unraveling this mystery. No matter what happened, Victor did not regret tossing the Four Seasons Wizard King’s Soul Mask to the Lord of Despair. Right now, only change could break the stalemate. As long as he kept an eye on the Slime Behemoths’ movements, he could find the settlements of the descendants of the Assyrian Empire. Find the Assyrians’ hiding place, find Beldina, and he would not be far from the truth.

The Pale Sovereign had sunk to the bottom of the lake and vanished without a trace. The high-ranking Ant-man, Ann, continued deeper into the rainforest. The Dragonkin handmaiden Dili was on the ground, while Victor followed from afar, high in the treetops dozens of meters above.

Ann had traveled for more than two hundred kilometers before gradually slowing its pace. Victor thought for a moment, then quickly caught up to it from behind and said, “You are Ann.”

This simple statement of fact activated the seed of suggestion buried deep in its heart. The high-ranking Ant-man recalled its own identity, and then recalled His Highness Randell, the one who could decide its life and death, who had imparted knowledge to it and helped it understand the world.

“I am Ann… Your Highness Randell, is there something you wish to tell me?” Ann turned involuntarily to face Victor as it spoke.

“Ann, what’s wrong with you?” Victor pushed aside the rainforest vines and walked slowly toward the high-ranking Ant-man, issuing a command for Ann to report its unusual state.

“I… The sovereign ordered me to wander nearby,” Ann collected its thoughts and answered truthfully.

“Why are you wandering around here?”

“By doing this, I can enter the forest twisted by the All Spirits and find the gathering place of the descendants of the Assyrian Empire.”

Victor’s activation of the seed of mental suggestion could only induce Ann to answer three questions. He had already asked two, leaving only the last one.

After deliberating for two seconds, Victor continued, “Why are you able to enter?”

“The sovereign severed Her psionic connection with me. She made me independent.”

Victor’s pupils contracted slightly. He didn’t quite understand the implications of the Ant-man Empress making Ann independent, but Ann had answered its three questions. Now it was its turn to ask Victor a question.

“Your Highness Randell, the sovereign has ordered me to infiltrate the gathering place of the descendants of the Assyrian Empire, try to discover Beldina’s location, and then, when I can see the ant swarms, guide them to find her. But I don’t know how to do it. Do you have any good advice?” Ann asked Victor for guidance on the problem that worried it most.

Victor, wearing an elegant smile, walked over to Ann, whispered a few words in its ear, and planted a new seed of suggestion.

Ann seemed to understand, though in reality, it understood nothing. It nodded and turned, plunging into the dense rainforest. The high-ranking Ant-man’s silver-white figure vanished into the green vegetation, but Victor’s Nemesis talent remained locked onto its position. Ann ran until it was outside the maximum range of the Raging Wind Domain, at which point the Nemesis lock shifted to Tracking Intuition. As it moved farther and farther away, the sense from the Tracking Intuition grew weaker and weaker, until suddenly, Victor lost all tracking sense of Ann.

He immediately rushed to the location where he had lost the target and investigated it carefully. He found the vines and thorns on the ground completely undisturbed, with no trace of the high-ranking Ant-man’s passage. In the canopy of a nearby tree, a jungle leopard with a dappled coat held a young Crocjaw Ape in its mouth, eyeing Victor and Dili, the two intruders, with a wary gaze.

The mysteriously vanished Ann seemed to have entered another world, leaving no impact on this forest whatsoever.

Victor’s bright eyes turned cold and grim. He ordered the Dragonoid raider beside him, “Dili, mark the surrounding territory. I will notify Mewen to bring the expeditionary force here to rendezvous.”

Chapter 841: Bel’s Whimsical Forest

As the Randell Expeditionary Force moved toward the Dragonoid territory, dozens of aberrant cat-apes first lost their soul connection with Imoson the Wizard, and then two sword-wielding handmaidens mysteriously vanished. This turn of events threw the core members into a panic. Charlotte immediately ordered the force to retreat a full eighty kilometers. Upon receiving the news, Victor had no choice but to take Dili and rendezvous with the expeditionary force.

After a careful investigation, Victor discovered that the disappearances had occurred roughly three hundred kilometers from the lake where the Pale Sovereign resided. His initial assessment was that the problematic rainforest covered over two hundred and seventy thousand square kilometers, an area equivalent to forty percent of the Gambis Kingdom.

This mysterious region was neither immensely large nor particularly small, but its scope was clearly diminished compared to the influence of the Realm of All Spirits. After all, the Realm of All Spirits, centered on Asoerta Temple, could radiate its power over seven hundred kilometers away to the Forest of Despair. And that was the scale of the Realm of All Spirits in its dilapidated state. Victor had communicated with the Pale Sovereign on a conscious level, and according to She, during the height of the Assyrian Empire, the Realm of All Spirits had once covered half of the Asoerta Mountains, an area of nearly two million square kilometers. Within that region, Assyrian Shamans could freely wield extraordinary powers akin to divine arts.

The situation Victor and the expeditionary force now faced was perhaps precisely what the Ant-man Empress had described: the Assyrian Shaman was using Beldina’s special talent, reshaping the domain characteristics of the Realm of All Spirits and beginning to influence the rainforest environment, forming a supernatural phenomenon similar to a planar tide.

“The Dark Elf priestess Sakhirtana told me about planar tides. It’s when the Abyss collides with our material plane, the Laws of the two planes intermingle, and planar rifts are created. The inhabitants of the Underground Kingdom and the demons of the Abyss can enter each other’s worlds through these rifts.” Standing beneath a massive, gnarled-trunked banyan tree with lush foliage, Victor explained the concept of a planar tide to his key subordinates and Father Dayn.

A look of astonishment spread across Father Dayn’s face. “Your Highness means to say that Beldina can create a plane and affect the space of this rainforest?” he asked in disbelief.

Victor slowly shook his head. “It’s a phenomenon similar to a planar tide, but not necessarily a planar tide… I saw a Dwarf combat professional affected by the Realm of All Spirits before. His soul fell into the Realm of All Spirits, but his body remained where it was, not vanishing completely like the aberrant cat-apes and the sword-wielding handmaidens.”

He gathered his thoughts and continued, “Bel obviously cannot create a plane; she doesn’t possess that kind of power. However, the source of the Realm of All Spirits is a powerful Ancient God called the King of the Spirit Realm. Although His will has long since perished, His principles of law are still at work. The Black Blood Sovereign, the Assyrian Shamans, and the ant swarms can all be considered descendants of the King of the Spirit Realm. Bel is a little wizard, and the principles of wizardry she has mastered might have some overlap with the Laws of the King of the Spirit Realm. Therefore, Bel is like a key. The Assyrian Shaman is using her to open the Realm of All Spirits and borrow the authority of the King of the Spirit Realm to influence the physical environment.”

“The above is all my speculation, without any proof…”

Seeing her beloved Master frown, Charlotte asked with concern, “Darling, are you alright?”

Victor let out a long breath and said with a wry smile, “Things I cannot comprehend always cause me distress… Alright, Imosen’s experiment should be complete. We’ll wait for his findings.”

Imosen was following Victor’s instructions, using the Wisdom Guidance wizardry to control an aberrant cat-ape, sending it alone into the rainforest to try and get it into the mysterious spatial domain. Victor himself didn’t know if it was truly a spatial plane, but whatever the result, it was a meaningful attempt.

Victor’s timing was precise. Just as he finished his discussion with his subordinates, Imosen regained consciousness. The wizard’s face was pale, but his spirit was extremely excited. He ran over to Victor and said, “My lord, I succeeded! I saw that strange forest through the aberrant cat-ape… It’s beautiful! The forest floor is covered in colorful Honeycage Flowers, and there are many boletus mushrooms, red mushrooms, and purple fungi. These are… these are all Bel’s favorites!”

“Wuwu… wu… I know Bel is in there. She must be in there,” Imosen said, choking up as he wiped away his tears.

The Honeycage Flower was an inconspicuous little flower. When in bloom, its nectary would fill with a sweet, subtly fragrant nectar. Gluttonous children loved to pick them and drink the nectar inside. Bel once dreamed of planting a field of Honeycage Flowers at Silver Moon Manor, but the flower attracted many pesky insects. The field of Honeycage Flowers at Silver Moon Manor remained just a little glutton’s dream.

Seeing a sea of Honeycage Flowers through the aberrant cat-ape, Imosen was convinced it was his precious daughter’s handiwork. This information was undoubtedly valuable, but Victor was more concerned with the wizard’s own basic condition.

“Your consciousness entered that mysterious domain. It wasn’t a hallucination, was it?”

Imosen hurriedly replied, “My lord, I guided the aberrant cat-ape to use its claws to cut the fur on its forelimb. It bled, and it was very painful. I believe it was not a hallucination!”

Victor asked again, “What about the aberrant cat-ape?”

“Uh, after the Wisdom Guidance ended, my connection with the cat-ape was severed.”

“While your consciousness was in the mysterious domain, did you sense the cat-apes that disappeared earlier?” Victor asked thoughtfully.

“Yes, I sensed nineteen aberrant cat-apes and summoned them closer. They responded to my call. But I couldn’t sense the other four aberrant cat-apes at all. They might… already be dead,” Imosen said, deeply unsettled. As he understood it, that mysterious domain was not safe and concealed unknown dangers.

Victor finally breathed a sigh of relief. The fact that Imosen could sense and interact with the missing aberrant cat-apes suggested that the mysterious domain was most likely not his hallucination. However, to further confirm the objective reality of the domain, they had to find the missing sword-wielding handmaidens.

By using information that the sword-wielding handmaidens knew but Imosen did not as a test for their interaction, if Imosen could bring back their answers, Victor could confirm the objective reality of the mysterious domain. Then, he could continue dispatching personnel inside to search for the Assyrian descendants’ settlement and Beldina.

Victor patted Imosen on the shoulder and said, “Get some rest. In nineteen hours, I need you to send another aberrant cat-ape in. Find the missing sword-wielding handmaidens, scout the environment, and command the aberrant cat-apes inside to establish a small fief. Once all that is done, we can figure out a way to rescue Beldina.”

“My lord, I will follow your command. I’ll go rest and recover my vigor now.” The greatly encouraged wizard bowed to Victor and walked away, his steps light as he headed for his shack.

The next day, Imosen used his Wisdom Guidance wizardry to enter the mysterious domain again. He controlled the aberrant cat-apes within and successfully found a sword-wielding handmaiden named Sophie, but the other handmaiden was still nowhere to be found. The test results indicated that the mysterious domain was objectively real, forming some kind of planar overlap with the rainforest. Victor didn’t know the specific principle behind it, but he had at last gained some understanding of the mysterious domain.

Over the next few days, Imosen conducted several more tests, and Victor summarized a few lessons from the “mysterious disappearances”:

First, only outsiders would suddenly disappear within this mysterious region; local animals would not.

Second, weaker individuals and war beasts were more likely to disappear, as were those who were alone.

Third, alchemical creatures would not disappear, nor would people or war beasts within the Raging Wind Domain.

The final point was that the disappeared war beasts and sword-wielding handmaiden had been randomly transported to a mysterious forest, one that was not the rainforest here, and they were currently in a state of being able to enter but not leave.

Victor named that mysterious forest “Bel’s Whimsical Forest.”

Imosen subsequently sent over two hundred aberrant cat-apes into “Bel’s Whimsical Forest,” directing them to scout the environment and establish a small fief.

Finally, the moment of decision arrived. The Randell Expeditionary Force was fully prepared and ready to attempt an entry into “Bel’s Whimsical Forest” at any time. Victor sought out Dayne for a private conversation.

“Imosen will go in for Beldina’s sake, no matter the cost. Aka is afraid, but he will also go in to save Bel… a Priest, what about you?” Victor asked, looking into Dayn’s eyes.

Dayn was clad in Thorium leather plate, an Adamantine mace in his hand. Even this fine set of armor and weapon couldn’t put him at ease. A bitter smile touched his lips as he said, “Your Highness, I hope to know more information.”

“What kind of information are you referring to? About Bel’s Whimsical Forest?”

Victor shook his head regretfully. “I’m sorry, but I have no more information to offer you about Bel’s Whimsical Forest. My will is not affected by it, nor can I enter that mysterious and wondrous supernatural domain… You must accept this fact: once you enter Bel’s Whimsical Forest, the Raging Wind Sword Saint will be unable to support you and your allies. You will be on your own.”

Dayn was silent for a long time. He was intelligent and ambitious, and such men always made their choices with caution. To put it bluntly, he was afraid of death, though that description wasn’t entirely accurate. As a priest who served the Lord of Radiance, Dayn had his own convictions and principles. It was just that delving into an unknown domain didn’t seem to touch upon those principles of faith, and the potential benefits were not yet clear. Naturally, he hesitated, unwilling to risk his life on a single gamble.

After all, “Bel’s Whimsical Forest” was mysterious and unpredictable. The mere fact that one appeared in a random location was perilous enough. A priest relied on his retinue to fully utilize the power of his divine arts. If Dayn were to be teleported alone to some dangerous place, unable to rendezvous with Imoson the Wizard, Caligula, and the others, he would struggle to even protect himself with his own martial prowess.

Victor could understand Dayn’s worries, but he would not explain the special significance of the Realm of All Spirits and Beldina to him. Even if the old man Miller hoped for Bel to take charge of the Realm of All Spirits, that special divine kingdom plane, it was ultimately a matter of interest to the Church, with no direct bearing on the Gold-Eyed Earl.

The House of Randell had already made many sacrifices for the expedition into the Endless Forest. If tallied in gold coins, Victor had lost at least one million Gold Sol, and the fates of his trusted confident, Narsen, and several young Knights and Ferocious warriors remained unknown. He had no reason to throw Charlotte, Macy, Tao De, and the others into the mix as well.

The mythical three-headed lizard visualization that Dayn had learned could not be widely taught, but it could enhance his own strength. To the Church, the value of the level four Source Blood Secret Art was not necessarily less than that of the Realm of All Spirits. With these two in hand, Dayn had a chance to contend for the Pope’s throne, provided he could return to the human kingdoms alive. But an even greater prerequisite was whether he could pass Father Miller’s test. The sacred object crystal, for example—Miller could have temporarily lent it to Dayn, or he could have entrusted it to him as a sacred weapon.

The logic was actually simple. “Bel’s Whimsical Forest” currently seemed to be a one-way trip, but Victor was willing to take a gamble with the old man Miller. He was betting on Miller’s Great Divination targeting Beldina and the Realm of All Spirits, and that Father Dayn, who held the sacred object crystal and had learned the three-headed lizard visualization and the level four Source Blood Secret Art, was a control variable. Father Dayn had to be able to enter “Bel’s Whimsical Forest,” but he also had to be able to get out. That was where the God-favored Miller would have to step in.

If Dayn was willing to take the risk, Victor would arrange for his subordinates to go in with him. If the priest was unwilling, then the members of the House of Randell would not need to go in either. It all depended on Dayn’s true self and intentions. Victor would not interfere; he would use this to verify Father Miller’s Great Divination.

Dayn was deeply conflicted. He couldn’t bear to watch his allies risk their lives, yet he worried for his own safety. For days, he hadn’t been able to decide whether he should accompany Imosen and Caligula to find Beldina. His Highness Randall was now demanding he state his position and make a final choice. It made him extremely uncomfortable, as if his inner weakness was about to be exposed, showing his worst side to everyone.

His gaze inadvertently fell upon Victor’s gold eyes. They were calm, with an almost condescending look. A flash of insight suddenly struck Dayn, and he asked without thinking, “Your Highness, if it were you, what would you choose?”

“Me?” Victor saw the solemnity and sincerity in Dayn’s question. It was pure, a genuine request for guidance. He nodded and said with a smile, “Of course I would be willing to go in… Exploring unknown mysteries is what makes me stronger, driving me toward perfection on the level of life. I faced the mythical Hydra Lizard and created the Poltanos Secret Art; I killed the Black Blood Sovereign, and my spiritual power was enhanced, allowing me to glimpse the mysteries of the ‘Origin’; I communicated with the Dark Elf priestess, learned the Art of Suggestion, and performed the Deduction for the level four Source Blood Secret Art… None of this was obtained out of thin air.”

The powerful self-confidence exuded by His Highness Randall showcased the personal charisma of an Extraordinary powerhouse. Dayn, filled with envy, was also deeply moved. He couldn’t help but ask himself: what was he truly pursuing, and what should he stand for?

Imosen is a Wizard, my friend, and a believer in our Lord. No matter what he becomes in the future, he was once a believer, and he is a believer now. That is enough… As a priest of the Lord of Radiance, I cannot betray my friend. I should redeem the hope of the faithful. That is enough!

Dayn softly chanted, “When all is dark, only radiance endures… I am willing to go and redeem Father Imosen and his daughter. This is also my own Redemption.”

A platinum-gold Holy Light erupted from within the priest’s heart—gentle, sacred, and unshakeable.

Victor looked at Dayn with surprise for a few moments, then nodded in admiration. “Your Excellency, congratulations on your advancement to Gold-rank priest. From now on, you may set your sights on the legendary realm.”

Dayn made the sign of the triangle holy symbol over his chest and said joyfully, “Your Highness, let’s go over now. I expect Imosen can’t wait any longer.”

Victor was also very pleased. Imosen had already proven that a Wizard could use Wizardry in “Bel’s Whimsical Forest,” which meant a priest should have no problem using divine arts. Dayn’s promotion to a Gold-rank priest, combined with Miller’s sacred object crystal in his possession, would be a great boon to the operation.

The two of them returned to the clearing in the rainforest created by the Alchemical militia. Charlotte, Macy, Tao De, Caligula, Imosen, and the remaining eleven sword-wielding handmaidens were all in full gear, ready to depart. Imosen had, in fact, already sent a strong force into the Whimsical Forest. Led by the sword-wielding handmaiden Sophie, more than two hundred aberrant cat-apes had secured a small fief and were awaiting reinforcements.

The fully armed Imosen was mounted on an aberrant bear. Seeing his Master and the priest approach, he dismounted, bowed, and said, “My lord, Esteemed Father, I am ready.”

Victor nodded in acknowledgment of his family wizard’s greeting and walked straight to Charlotte’s side. He reached out, lifted his Concubine Knight’s chin, and kissed her red lips, instructing, “Since Gold-rank advanced Ant-men can enter ‘Bel’s Whimsical Forest,’ you all certainly have a chance to enter as well. Once you’re inside, follow the plan, but be extra careful… It’s a pity I can’t enter the Whimsical Forest with you. You can only rely on your own wisdom and strength. Darling, I want you to remember one thing: wherever one can enter, one can surely exit.”

Charlotte lifted her jade-green eyes, as if to imprint Victor’s shadow upon her heart, and said softly, “Your Highness, we are your eyes, your hands, your ears, and your mouth—an extension of your will… I am very happy that I can do something you cannot. This is my honor.”

“To be His Highness Randall’s spies and informants, to be His Highness Randall’s sword and armor, is our glory!” the members of the expeditionary force chanted in unison.

Victor looked deeply at each and every person here: Sworn Knight Charlotte, family Wizard Imosen, retinue Caligula, priest Dayn, Blood Python Macy, Ghostface Swordsman Tao De, and the eleven sword-wielding handmaidens. He took a step back, drew his Soul Rend spiked whip, and gave them a solemn salute. “Good luck to you all. Bring Beldina back to me.”

Chapter 842: The Crystal Appears

In the Assyrian descendants’ settlement stood a pyramid-shaped sacrificial temple.

Chief Priestess Shaman Harenadak, wearing a brightly colored feathered headdress and holding a serpent staff, ascended the temple steps, surrounded by a group of Assyrian Warriors. Her features were pure and beautiful, her figure full and enchanting. Two strips of pale yellow flax simply crossed over her shoulders, wrapping her ample bosom before being tied in a knot at her slender waist, covering her rounded hips and hanging down like a high-slit long skirt. This revealed the Shamaness’s serpentine waist, long legs, and large expanses of smooth, full skin. Her complexion was dark and subtle, covered in mysterious tattoo patterns, like a beauty meticulously carved from ivory with a rich patina—exquisite and elegant, yet possessing a primitive, mysterious charm.

The Assyrian Warriors protecting the Shamaness had strong physiques and agile movements. They wore round-collared shoulder guards woven from bone plates and rattan threads, with only a flax loincloth below the waist. They were adorned with beast-fang ornaments, and their brown-black skin was also covered in tattoos depicting the totems of the bear, tiger, eagle, and snake.

These Assyrians were Beast Spirit Warriors that Chief Priestess Harenadak had only recently cultivated, possessing mysterious extraordinary power. Their gazes were dark and sinister, and they exuded an aura of cold ruthlessness. However, the lines of the totems tattooed on their skin were rounded and bloated, making the animal spirit patterns look chubby and quite cute. Paired with the Assyrian Warriors’ viper-like demeanor, it created a comical effect.

Harenadak and the Beast Spirit Warriors walked straight up to the upper platform of the pyramid. Just as they were about to enter the passageway, a giant bear blocked their path.

It stood nearly three meters tall at the shoulder, its exposed fangs like half-meter-long short swords. A dark red light flickered in its eye sockets; it was a terrifying, ferocious monster. But its body existed between the illusory and the real; its fur was glossy, every hair visible, and upon closer inspection, one could see it was actually composed of black smoke.

The half-illusory, half-real giant bear opened its bloody maw towards the Chief Priestess Shaman and the Assyrian Warriors, letting out a howl filled with oppressive power.

The Beast Spirit Warriors immediately knelt before the giant bear, while Harenadak took a clay pot from one of the warriors. From inside, she removed a large, glistening piece of honeycomb and held it before the giant bear, saying respectfully, “Sugar Jar, this is my tribute to you.”

The giant bear “Sugar Jar” stuck out its red tongue and, with a slurp, swept away the large piece of honeycomb in the Shamaness’s hand, making smacking and purring sounds. Its massive body of smoke shifted from illusory to real, continuously condensing. The giant bear “Sugar Jar” quickly transformed into a small, round-headed bear cub, clutching the honeycomb tightly in its chubby little paws and licking it incessantly.

The Assyrians now worshiped this powerful Bear Spirit as a god, but it was merely blocking the path to rob them, demanding sweet honey. If not given honey, it would allow no one to enter the temple’s interior.

The Animal Spirits themselves did not have complete consciousness. Queen Beldina had given them a virtual Will Side of the soul, making them equivalent to incarnations she had shaped. They helped the Assyrian Shamans establish a new system of extraordinary power, enabling them to cultivate Beast Spirit Warriors, and the Beast Spirits themselves, having gained sentience, were a formidable force.

These were all changes Beldina had brought to the Assyrians, but the Beast Spirit Guardians, each representing one of the four seasons, always extorted their favorite delicacies from the Assyrian Shamans. Harenadak couldn’t help but feel that something was a little strange.

The Chief Priestess Shaman stepped past the plump bear cub, which was engrossed in licking its honey, and walked alone into the dim passageway.

The pyramid was a four-sided structure, with a passageway on each side leading to the main chamber. It was now the end of spring, so Harenadak, following protocol, was seeking an audience with the new Queen through the passageway guarded by the Bear Spirit. The entrances to the other three passageways were, of course, also guarded by Beast Spirits: the Tiger Spirit representing summer, the Eagle Spirit representing autumn, and the Snake Spirit representing winter. All of them were Guardian Spirits as powerful as the Bear Spirit.

The four Guardian Spirits protected the temple’s central chamber. Aside from a select few Assyrian Shamans approved by Queen Bel, no one else could enter the main chamber of the pyramid temple.

When Harenadak entered the main chamber, there were no braziers lit for illumination, yet it was not dim like the passageway. Instead, it was a bright flower room, the stone-walled chamber overgrown with vines and colorful flowers. Many glowing Flower Fey danced on fluttering wings in the dreamlike, forest-like main chamber. Upon seeing the Chief Priestess Shaman, the bolder Flower Fey zipped past her, while the timid and shy ones hid behind green leaves or flowers. Most of the Flower Fey, however, were busy with their work, alighting on vines to make them grow leaves, bloom flowers, or bear fruit.

These little creatures were Nature Spirits that Beldina had manifested from the images in her mind. They had no combat abilities but could help Assyrian Shamans cast nature-based spells, set up nature barriers, restore forests, and even help the Ancestral Spirits repair the Realm of All Spirits.

It was, of course, better for an Assyrian Shaman to be able to summon more Nature Spirits. The vast majority of Shamans had only about ten Nature Spirits at their side. Harenadak had fifty-one, while Beldina had hundreds. The hundred-plus Nature Spirits in the main chamber were just a small fraction of her total.

Even so, Harenadak did not dare to act recklessly in the main chamber. Though these Flower Fey seemed harmless, the flower vines they summoned were actually terrifying man-eating flowers. Anyone who dared to harbor malicious intent toward Queen Bel would be ruthlessly strangled.

Beautiful flower vines coiled around the stone platform in the center of the main chamber. Beldina lay there, sleeping peacefully, her body obscured by the vines. Harenadak could only glimpse Beldina’s rosy, round little face through the gaps.

“Tumen, where has Queen Bel’s spirit gone?” the beautiful and enchanting Chief Priestess Shaman suddenly asked.

In a corner of the main chamber, the flower vines parted on their own, revealing an old Shaman sitting cross-legged on the floor. His figure was gaunt and his face was covered in wrinkles. He wasn’t wearing the signature feathered headdress of an Assyrian Shaman, and his messy, gray-white hair made him look exceedingly old.

“Chief Priestess, Queen Bel has gone out to play with her retainers. I do not know her current whereabouts,” the old Shaman replied in a hoarse voice.

Ever since the Black Blood Sovereign had been severed from the Realm of All Spirits, the living Assyrian Shamans had been able to reconnect with it. The Shamans organized Blood Sacrifice rituals, and while helping the Pale Sovereign repair the Realm of All Spirits, they also received feedback, their youthful bodies restored one after another. Shaman Tumen still looked this old, partly because he was an old man to begin with. In terms of family relations, he was Harenadak’s grandfather’s youngest brother. Of that generation of old Shamans, Tumen was one of the few who remained. The secrets Harenadak knew, Tumen knew as well.

On the other hand, Tumen had once been Harenadak’s staunchest supporter. It was for this reason that Harenadak had entrusted Bel to Tumen’s guidance, but now, Tumen was Beldina’s most loyal Partisan.

The types of spirits could be summarized as Nature Spirits, Animal Spirits, and Ancestral Spirits. Although Assyrian Shamans could communicate with Nature and Animal Spirits, they were most adept at communicating with Ancestral Spirits, using them as a nexus to borrow the power of the Realm of All Spirits.

The so-called Ancestral Spirits were, in fact, ghosts—not the soul of any one individual, but a spiritual entity formed from the natural disintegration and mutual devouring of Assyrian souls within the Realm of All Spirits. They possessed a pure, powerful Soul Fire and a most instinctive Will Side.

The Pale Sovereign was currently the most powerful Ancestral Spirit in the Realm of All Spirits. She corresponded to supernatural spells of the Undead type.

Blood Sacrifice was the only way to nurture Ancestral Spirits, but as it happened, Beldina detested Ancestral Spirits; she preferred Animal Spirits and Nature Spirits. Because of Beldina’s appearance, a shift had occurred within the Assyrian Shaman camp. A small number of Assyrian Shamans began to favor Nature and Animal Spirits, and Shaman Tumen was a prime example.

The vast majority of Assyrian Shamans could not accept this change, because Shamans were reborn in the Realm of All Spirits after death. The Blood Sacrifice ritual allowed them to maintain their power and influence until they transformed into Ancestral Spirits. According to the tenets of the Assyrian Empire: All Spirits, All Hallows; Ancestral Spirits are saints, and to attain sainthood is the highest pursuit of an Assyrian Shaman.

The Realm of All Spirits had lost its consciousness, but it was an indisputable fact that it favored Beldina. The Assyrian Shamans absolutely did not dare to criticize Queen Bel. They poured their anger onto the head of Shaman Tumen, believing that Tumen, as Bel’s mentor, had failed in his responsibility. Some even suspected that Tumen had deliberately led the Queen astray, planning to seek personal gain from the changes.

Beldina had only been in the Assyrian settlement for a few dozen days, yet the conservative faction among the Assyrian Shamans had already grown restless. Shaman Tumen, responsible for teaching Bel, became the target of public criticism, with some Shamans advocating for him to be sent to the Realm of All Spirits—a death sentence.

To date, Tumen had already survived two assassination attempts. He was forced to hide in the main chamber of the temple, seeking shelter under the protection of Beldina’s Guardian Spirits.

Harenadak was not only the Chief Priestess Shaman but had also been the Queen of the Assyrians. She was well-versed in the art of political struggle. She did not guide Beldina herself, instead allowing Tumen to serve as her Shaman mentor.

In truth, the reformist faction among the Assyrian Shamans had not yet taken shape; the conservative faction was still the mainstream. Tumen had been branded a traitor to All Spirits and All Hallows after serving as Beldina’s aide for only a few days, a truly unjust accusation.

Ultimately, the Shamans were just jealous that Tumen could guide Queen Bel and wanted to take his place by her side.

After all, Beldina was just a young lady right now. Whoever could teach her would receive the most benefits, but they would also be on the crest of the wave.

The competition would only be this fierce at this stage. Once Beldina completely mastered the supreme authority of the Realm of All Spirits, there would be no need to contend for influence.

Harenadak had not expected the old Shaman Tumen to be influenced by Beldina in turn, embracing Nature and Animal Spirits. By not using the Blood Sacrifice ritual to restore his life force, his lifespan would not be long. This, however, saved Harenadak a great deal of trouble. She withdrew her gaze from Tumen’s wrinkled face, lowered her eyes, and sighed, “This won’t do… Perhaps entrusting Queen Bel to you was a mistake.”

Tumen understood what Harenadak was referring to. He shook his head and said, “Beldina’s spirit is the purest I have ever seen, like the ice and snow on Mount Asoerta, like the first ray of sunlight shining on the forest… I thought I could guide her, but in her, I saw my own flaws, and I also saw the future of All Spirits and All Hallows. Harena, you may or may not understand, but I must still tell you: no one can guide Beldina. She is the beginning, and also the end.”

Harenadak nodded thoughtfully and asked, “You mean the Assyrian Shamans will end the tradition of the Blood Sacrifice ritual?”

“I mean that Beldina dislikes Blood Sacrifice not out of personal preference, but because Blood Sacrifice has severe flaws. That is why Beldina detests it, because her spirit is incomparably pure.” Tumen’s tone was profound as he said, “Spirituality reveals calamities and turning points. Just as the Pale Sovereign’s spirit foresaw that Beldina was our opportunity, the Pale Sovereign could not foresee that Queen Beldina would end Her existence.”

Harenadak frowned and shook her head. “I wish you would be more specific.”

Tumen replied, “All Spirits, All Hallows feed on the souls of the Assyrians, so we need to sacrifice slaves. This is All Spirits, All Hallows influencing the Assyrian Shamans, which is why we feel not an ounce of pity for our enslaved kin. In Beldina, I saw kindness and compassion, and I also saw the flaws of All Spirits, All Hallows… I don’t know if you’ve thought about this, but when we feed the souls of slaves to All Spirits, All Hallows, a powerful Sovereign will eventually be born in the Realm of All Spirits, like the Black Blood Sovereign. She has grown accustomed to consuming Assyrian souls. If She had not perished, She would have preyed on us first… The Pale Sovereign might be able to control the Black Blood Sovereign, but eventually She too will become a second Black Blood Sovereign, feeding on the souls of Assyrians. This is the fate that Blood Sacrifice brings to the Assyrians.”

“Beldina hates Blood Sacrifice. By ending the Assyrians’ Blood Sacrifice ritual, she is also reversing our fate, but without souls to devour, the Pale Sovereign will sooner or later dissipate.”

Harenadak said, “I understand what you mean. However, the Pale Sovereign is very useful to us at present… Even if Beldina despises Blood Sacrifice, we can only sacrifice more slaves, and the sooner the better.”

As she spoke, she took a wooden headdress from a pouch at her waist. Inlaid upon it was a rhombus-shaped crystal.

If Victor were present, he would have recognized it at a glance. The crystal, emitting a misty glow, was none other than an Elemental Rune Crystal from the Alchemical Empire. But to the Assyrian Shamans, this crystal had a peculiar name: “Angelina’s Sorrow.” The Four Seasons Wizard King, in accordance with the changing seasons, had to wear “Angelina’s Sorrow” when presiding over the Blood Sacrifice ritual in turn.

It was not only a symbol of authority but also a second entrance to the Realm of All Spirits. As long as an Assyrian Shaman wore “Angelina’s Sorrow,” they could preside over a Blood Sacrifice ritual from any point within the domain covered by the Realm of All Spirits, without needing to go to the temple ruins in the Asoerta Mountains.

Seeing Harenadak take out the most important Chief Priestess’s headdress, Tumen immediately stood up from the ground and pressed, “What on earth has happened?”

Harenadak stared deeply at Beldina. Without raising her head, she said, “The Demigod who killed the Black Blood Sovereign threw the Wizard King’s mask to the Despair Behemoth. But we haven’t finished setting up the forest barrier yet… The Undying One is coming. Once It has dealt with the Pale Sovereign, the supreme authority of the Realm of All Spirits will temporarily fall into the hands of the Undying One. Therefore, we must help Tina accelerate the severing of the Realm of All Spirits, trap the Undying One in the Asoerta Mountains, and have Queen Bel lead us away from here to a wider world, far from the threat of the Undying One. And before that, we need to sacrifice slaves in blood, create behemoths, and enhance the Pale Sovereign’s power to buy Beldina time.”

“But, the Blood Sacrifice ritual will pollute Beldina’s spirit… Surely, you don’t wish to see a cruel Assyrian Queen?”

“I know. This will also enhance Beldina’s power, and we have no other choice. Tumen, place the headdress on the Queen. It is her authority, and it is also our hope.”

Chapter 843: The Guiding “Fey”

Leaning on his two Adamantine beheading swords, Narsen walked out of the deep lake step by step. On the shore, the Elven and Dwarven combat professionals erupted in cheers.

He was the last person to escape the underground peril.

“Brother, you finally made it out! Any later and the Halfling Bobo would have started singing a lament for you.”

Yudrit the Dragon Hunter slapped Narsen on the back. The Dwarven combat professional wore only a pair of large shorts, revealing a body of tough, rock-like muscles. He had wanted to give Narsen a warm hug, but even on his tiptoes, he couldn’t reach Narsen’s chest. All he could do was raise his stout arms and pat Narsen’s back.

Narsen didn’t understand much Elvish, but he could clearly feel the Dwarven combat professional’s sincere joy at his safe escape.

The force with which the short fellow patted Narsen was directly proportional to his enthusiasm.

The expeditionary force led by Narsen had fought side-by-side with the Elven Empire’s combat professionals in the Assyrian Temple, jointly fending off the assault of the temple’s demons. The third-level Source-Blood Militia of the House of Randell were on par with the Elven Empire’s mid-rank combat professionals in terms of strength, but the Alchemical humans were not adept at self-preservation in battle. Of the more than one hundred warriors of the expeditionary force, only eight remained, including Narsen, Klaus, Brandon, Red Wolf, Rogers, and three Source-blood militia. All the others had died in battle, some Alchemical militia having sacrificed themselves to protect the Elves and Dwarves.

The Elven and Dwarven combat professionals couldn’t imagine that the mid-rank “human combat professionals” were, in fact, simply not clever enough. In their eyes, the human warriors’ rigid fighting style was one of valiant fearlessness; these were all companions worthy of respect and trust.

Before the Ant-man army besieged the temple, Narsen could have broken through the domain of the Realm of All Spirits, but he chose to stand with General Iluth Moonsong, leading everyone to leap into the Sacrificial Pit and risk seeking an escape route through the underground dark river.

The combat professionals struggled to survive in the dark, lightless underground world. The perils and hardships within need no lengthy description, but having two Gold rank powerhouses like Narsen and Iluth in their ranks greatly boosted everyone’s morale.

The combat professionals of the Elven Empire and the elites of the Randall family traveled upstream along the edge of the underground dark river. They couldn’t stray too far from it, as a water source was necessary for survival. At the same time, they hoped to find a sinkhole like the one at the Asoerta Temple, one that would lead directly to the surface.

The decision to follow the river was clearly the right one. With General Iluth Moonsong at the vanguard and Lord Narsen guarding the rear, the Elves, Dwarves, and humans felt their way through the subterranean world for over two months before finally finding an underwater exit. They jumped into the rushing underground dark river and, after a desperate period of underwater swimming, surfaced in a subterranean lake.

The Elves and Dwarves carried Moonlight Tree Leaf Talismans, which, when activated with a divine art of blessing, made swimming much easier for them. The Moonlight Talismans had no effect on their human companions, however, who could only hold their breath and rely on their own strength to navigate the river’s undercurrents and swim into the lake.

Narsen was the last to come ashore. The combat professionals who had been unable to help were even happier to see the human commander emerge safely than the members of the House of Randell might have been.

This lake was actually a placid section of the underground dark river, situated at the bottom of a massive sinkhole. Looking up, one could see a patch of blue sky. The bottom of the sinkhole was still over two hundred meters from the surface, and the surrounding rock walls were covered in slippery moss, but compared to the sunless world below, these were no problems at all.

The combat professionals and The Randell Expeditionary Force were the best of the best. After a short rest, they climbed up the sinkhole’s rock walls to the surface.

Stepping onto solid ground again, Narsen couldn’t help but lift his head, close his eyes, and take a deep breath, greedily drawing the fresh air into his lungs. His brief experience in the underground world had been utterly dreadful. Although he hadn’t encountered any grave dangers, he had seen no hope either. To have escaped from that dark region was mainly due to luck.

They had traveled upstream along the underground dark river and encountered six tributary forks. They had to make the correct choice each time to find the sinkhole connected to the surface world. If that wasn’t luck, what was?

If they had made a single wrong choice back then, the joint force would likely have been trapped in the dark region forever.

Only after returning to the surface did everyone realize how precious even the most ordinary air was.

At that moment, with their spirits relaxed, a wave of exhaustion washed over them. One by one, they collapsed onto the ground, unwilling to move. The Elves, Dwarves, and humans were now practically in rags, their fine armor long since discarded. Only a handful of powerhouses who had ignited the fire of the mind had managed to bring their weapons out.

The combat professionals were unarmed and utterly exhausted, both physically and mentally. After catching his breath, Narsen began to survey their surroundings. He noticed the air was humid and the vegetation was abnormally dense, filled with strange species he had never seen before. The most conspicuous were the strange trees with slender trunks and canopies that were a full forty meters above the ground, with parasitic vines hanging down from their high crowns. The diversity of plant life here was also astonishing; a small area contained hundreds of plant species, completely different from any forest Narsen remembered. He could faintly sense a danger hidden within this strange forest, one invisible to the naked eye.

“This seems to be the legendary rainforest.” General Iluth Moonsong of Silverhawk City walked over and said to Narsen. She was barefoot with short hair, wearing only a set of close-fitting Inner armor that revealed a powerful yet graceful figure. She paid no mind to her appearance, but the innate beauty of the Elves manifested in her as a unique, vibrant charm.

As a fellow Gold rank, Narsen admitted he was no match for the Elven General, but he admired her valiant character. In the dark underground, Iluth Moonsong had put herself at the front, placing the human warriors in the middle of their formation. While this was certainly to protect her allies of another race, it was also to maintain control over the group’s The Initiative. Narsen’s personal strength was inferior to General Moonsong’s, and the expeditionary force was down to only eight men, so he could only cede leadership to Moonsong. Fortunately, the Elven General had not disappointed, successfully leading the group back to the surface.

For this reason, Narsen felt a sense of gratitude toward the Elven General. Unfortunately, his Elvish was spotty at best, and Iluth Moonsong couldn’t speak the Common Tongue at all, so communication between them was rare. The Halfling adventurer Bobo took on the role of translator, relaying Moonsong’s words to Narsen in the human tongue.

“The rainforest is a forbidden ground within the Endless Forest. It’s shrouded in mist year-round. The climate is volatile, the environment is extremely complex, and it teems with a vast variety of life—all sorts of bizarre plants, countless venomous insects and fierce beasts, and indescribable monsters. Even ferocious, bloodthirsty Biological Aberrations are not considered rare in the rainforest.”

Bobo sat on a large mushroom, swinging his short little legs as he explained to Narsen, “If you ask me, the most terrifying thing in the rainforest are the plants. For example, the mushroom under my butt is as hard as wood right now, but this morning, it might have been delicious. By night, though, it could turn into a deadly poisonous mushroom.”

“Is that really possible?” Narsen looked at the large mushroom under the Halfling’s bottom and said, half-believingly.

“I’m just using this mushroom as an example. You can encounter even stranger things in the rainforest.” Bobo pouted and continued, “I’ve heard that some plants in the rainforest can live as parasites inside animals, turning them into mindless puppets that run off to distant places to die, their corpses becoming fertilizer for that plant… And there are plants that exclusively eat meat. They use vine-like tentacles to catch their prey, then secrete a super-strong corrosive mucus to dissolve the prey into liquid, which they then drink…”

Narsen was completely dumbfounded by the Halfling adventurer’s stories, but Iluth Moonsong impatiently pinched the Halfling’s ear and demanded, “Bobo, are you even translating what I said, hmm? Translate properly for me, do you understand?”

“Ouch, ouch! I understand, I understand! Let go!”

Iluth Moonsong released Bobo’s ear and turned to Narsen, saying, “Lord General, the most terrifying thing about the rainforest is the rainforest itself… You should be able to feel it. It has a consciousness.”

After hearing Bobo’s translation, Narsen looked around at the vibrant rainforest, his expression gradually turning grave.

A forest’s pan-consciousness was still a consciousness. It instinctively maintained the ecological balance, pursued survival and development, and assimilated or absorbed outsiders. But that was His Highness Randell’s understanding of a forest’s pan-consciousness.

Neither Narsen nor Iluth possessed His Highness Randell’s knowledge, but with their keen psychic intuition, they too could touch upon the existence of the forest’s pan-consciousness. And the oppressive feeling this rainforest gave Narsen was even stronger and more distinct than that of the dark underground.

“The rainforest is alive. It will confuse those who trespass. You will find that the plants here grow rapidly; trees you cut down will be replaced by other plants overnight, and the terrain and environment you remember will be completely changed.” Iluth pointed at the surrounding trees, vines, and flowers, saying, “Many powerful explorers from the Elven Empire have disappeared in the mysterious rainforest… Lord General, even you would probably find it very difficult to find your way out once you go deep into the rainforest.”

Narsen couldn’t fathom the Elven General’s intentions in saying this, so he had the two family knights, Klaus and Brandon, negotiate with her.

Klaus and Brandon could now both speak fluent Elvish, so they had no trouble communicating with Moonsong and didn’t need Bobo to act as a go-between. After a brief discussion among the three of them, Klaus asked politely, “General Moonsong, when you said Lord Narsen would get lost if he went deep into the rainforest, were you referring to him being alone?”

The young human Knight was not only handsome, but his mind was also sharp and perceptive. The third General of Silverhawk City showed a look of admiration and nodded. “With more companions, it’s not as easy to get lost in the rainforest, but it’s very dangerous for a small group… The reputation of the human race is not very good in the rumors of the Elven City-states, but you have proven with your actions that those rumors are false. In the Asoerta Temple, you sacrificed many brave combat professionals and saved the lives of Elves and Dwarves. We are grateful for this. You are trustworthy friends, and on behalf of Silverhawk City, I invite you to be our guests in our city-state.”

Of the more than one hundred elite family members who had gone through the battle at the temple, only eight were left. Even their two precious Dragon-Lizard war beasts had died in battle. Narsen’s heart ached so much he didn’t know how he was going to explain it to Victor. In truth, the Elven Empire’s losses were even greater; more than two hundred elite combat professionals had died in the temple and the dark underground, yet Iluth Moonsong still had more than two hundred mid-rank combat professionals by her side. Her invitation for Narsen and his men to join them was made purely out of goodwill. However, Narsen shook his head and refused without hesitation.

Klaus relayed Narsen’s meaning, saying, “Thank you for the invitation, General Moonsong, but Lord Narsen can sense that our liege lord is to the west, very far from here. We must go find our liege lord, Randall.”

The Dwarf Yudrit couldn’t help but interject, shouting, “Liege lord Randall, isn’t that Lord Nightingale? Lord Nightingale is a Demigod, a Greater Elf of noble Bloodline. The rainforest can’t trap Her at all. You have blind and one-armed disabled people among you. If you enter the rainforest to look for Lord Nightingale, will you even be able to keep up with Her? You’d be better off returning with us to Silverhawk City first. I believe Lord Nightingale will visit Silverhawk City too, and even if She doesn’t come to Silverhawk City, She will eventually have to go to Aylanta.”

This dwarf, actually trying to use us to lure my Master… Brandon complained internally, though he also knew that Dwarves were hot-tempered and direct, so there was no need to get angry with him. The key point was that Brandon, Klaus, and Narsen simply didn’t believe the rainforest could trap them.

The Elves, for their part, could not comprehend the concept of Loyalty that the human family practiced. After failing to persuade them, Iluth Moonsong had no choice but to give up on inviting the members of the House of Randell to return to Silverhawk City with them.

The combat professionals of the Elven Empire rested in place for three days, then decided to use the Asoerta Mountains to the east as a landmark to return to Silverhawk City. Before departing, Iluth Moonsong left Narsen and his men a batch of freshly gathered supplies and a limited number of fine weapons. She also said to them, “There is something that has left me puzzled… When we were trapped in the underground world, I vaguely saw a translucent fish in the dark river. When I looked closely to identify it, there was nothing, as if I had mistaken the splashing water for a fish. I followed ‘its’ guidance, chose our path, and led the team back to the surface… Bobo said it was a water sprite that was specifically guiding us. I’m not sure if what I saw was the legendary water sprite. I’ve thought about it carefully these past two days, and I suspect ‘it’ intentionally led us to this rainforest. Since you’ve decided to go deep into the rainforest to find Lord Nightingale, if you encounter a similar strange phenomenon, it is definitely aimed at you.”

Iluth pursed her lips, shook her head, and said earnestly, “Friends, please be extra careful… May the light of the silver moon bless you and bring you good fortune.”

Chapter 844: The Gros Insectoids Reappear

The Elves and Dwarves were gone, leaving only the eight members of the House of Randell staring at each other in the cleared patch of land. Among them were two disabled people: Rogers had lost his left arm, and Red Wolf Wolf was now blind.

The blond, blue-eyed Brandon mimicked Victor, rubbing his nose and saying sheepishly, “With just the few of us left, I’m finding it a bit strange.”

The calm and steady Klaus heard his companion’s words and couldn’t help but let out a long sigh. Over a year ago, when His Highness Randell decided to launch an expedition into the Endless Forest, he had brought out his family’s trump card: more than two hundred Mind Warriors whose strength was comparable to Knights, nearly one hundred Elite Guards, six Silver-rank Dragon-Lizard war beasts, dozens of Savage warhounds, and four beautiful yet terrifying Dragonkin handmaidens, not to mention two high-rank spellcasters, Imoson the Wizard and Father Dane. The Randell Expeditionary Force wasn’t large in number, but Klaus believed that across all the human kingdoms, no other family could match its strength.

Back when he first followed his Master on the expedition to the Endless Forest, Klaus had been excited for a long time. In the Lizard Marsh, they fought a bloody battle against several thousand Half-dragons. The expeditionary force suffered minimal losses, yet they had slain hundreds, even thousands of Half-dragon hunters. That battle had greatly boosted the young Knight’s confidence.

However, after the battle at Asoerta Temple, the family elites led by Narsen were almost completely wiped out, leaving only a few core members and three initial-rank Mind Warriors. But they had also eliminated several times their number in demons, including many Silver and even Gold rank Black Blood Demons.

Narsen had advanced to a Gold-rank Ferocious warrior; Red Wolf, though blinded by demon venom, had ignited the fire of his mind and become a Silver-rank Ferocious warrior; Rogers lost an arm but gained the ability to voluntarily go berserk, making him what could be considered a mid-rank Mind Warrior. Brandon had completed a Trial of Life and Death amidst the brutal fighting and touched the Elemental Sea. With a bit more time to accumulate power, he could smoothly resonate with the 25th Elemental Node and step into the realm of a Silver Knight. Klaus had also participated in the battle, killing even more Black Blood Demons than Brandon, but unfortunately, he had relied on a Gold Potion to advance to a senior knight and was still only Bronze-rank.

Klaus, who had always been diligent, felt a little disheartened. Narsen walked over, placed a hand on his shoulder, and spoke, interrupting the young Knight’s thoughts, “Hey, what are you thinking about? Klaus, you’re my adjutant. Hurry up and draft a viable plan for us to rendezvous with Lord Victor.”

“Wisdom is a crucial component of individual strength and should never be seen as separate from combat ability…” Recalling the teachings of His Highness Randell, Klaus’s spirits lifted. He nodded and said, “My lord Narsen, we must first take stock of our equipment and supplies, and scout the environment to get a basic understanding of this rainforest’s characteristics. Only after we’ve done that can we create a plan of action.”

“How long will that take?” Narsen thought for a moment, then added, “I have a rough idea of His Highness’s direction, but we don’t know how far we are from him. If he starts moving, it will be hard to catch up. I don’t want to delay here for too long. The sooner we set out, the better.”

Klaus looked up at the sun slanting west and said, “Stay for one night. We’ll use half a day for preparations and set off at dawn tomorrow.”

“Alright. You assign the tasks, and we’ll do as you say.”

The Elves and Dwarves had left them some supplies before they left, but the rainforest wasn’t lacking in food; it was lacking people who could distinguish edible food and potable water. When it came to wilderness survival, the Alchemical militia, with their loaded Gathering skill, were experts. Klaus consulted with the third-level Source-Blood Militia in their group, and the outcome was fairly ideal. Although the current rainforest ecosystem was vastly different from the one tens of thousands of years ago, giving rise to many new species the Alchemical militia didn’t recognize, they could still identify some usable natural resources.

With food and water sorted, the next most important thing was the expeditionary force’s equipment and tools. All eight of them wore a set of finely crafted Thorium inner armor. This armor was made primarily from the hide of Giant Pythons from the Great Marsh, infused with Thorium. It was light, breathable, and offered considerable protection. Even the Dwarf craftsmen had marveled at it. However, a full set of Thorium inner armor only protected the torso from the knees to the shoulders. The poisonous insects in the rainforest were ferocious. Even if the eight of them had skin several times tougher than an ordinary person’s and weren’t afraid of bites, attracting swarms of mosquitos and flies would still be a nuisance.

Klaus took the advice of the Alchemical militia. They gathered herbs, boiled them into a paste, and smeared it on their bodies. This would not only solve the insect problem but also help them avoid certain bizarre creatures that hunted by sensing heat.

Weapons were now the team’s most pressing need. Narsen had two Adamantine beheading swords, Klaus and Brandon each had a knight’s longsword, Red Wolf had a dozen or so short throwing knives, and General Moonsong had given them two heavy curved swords and two Dwarven bone-crushing iron clubs.

These weapons were clearly not enough. Klaus led the others in cutting down trees with tough wood. They sharpened the ends, hardened them over a fire, and made a pile of simple spears and javelins. While they were at it, they gathered dried vines to weave wicker baskets, vine armor, vine boots, vine helmets, and vine ropes. Everyone worked together until late into the night before falling into a deep sleep for just two hours.

The next morning, before the sun had risen and the rainforest was still shrouded in mist, Klaus was awakened by Narsen’s exclamation, “By the Lord of Radiance, what’s happened here?!”

In just a few short hours, the clearing where they had camped was now covered in lush green vines and colorful mushrooms. Only a small area near the campfire remained untouched by the plants. The entire environment had changed due to these suddenly sprouted plants, but Klaus remembered clearly that this had been a large clearing just yesterday.

Everyone was dumbfounded. Only Red Wolf stood with his mouth open, making “Ah, ah” sounds as he turned in a circle. Since losing his sight, his hearing, smell, and sense of touch had become much sharper. He had learned to judge his surroundings by faint echoes. It was certainly inconvenient, but he had “heard” the change in the camp’s environment. He pulled a vine off a bundled javelin and sniffed it.

Rogers asked in surprise, “Red Wolf, did you smell anything?”

“It’s just the most common vine around here.” Red Wolf shook his head. “Nothing else.”

“Then why are you sniffing it?” Rogers was greatly disappointed. He’d always believed blind people possessed a certain mystique, that they could “see” things others couldn’t. Whether it was the old blind man in the mountain stronghold or the blind fortune-tellers at the circus, he always thought their cryptic words were profound and hadn’t hesitated to give them Silver Sols.

“Heh heh, I’m learning how to be a blind man,” Red Wolf said with a grin.

“I have faith in you.” Narsen clapped Red Wolf on the shoulder, then turned to an Alchemical militia man. “Davy, do you know what’s going on here?”

The Alchemical militia man replied, “The rainforest contains countless seeds of life. As long as there is space to grow, they will sprout frantically. In just a few hours, perhaps, this place will be covered by new plants again.”

Brandon shook his head. “It seems the Elven General’s experience was not wrong. At this rate of plant growth, anyone who gets lost in here will find it very easy to stay lost.”

Narsen said dismissively, “We won’t get lost. We can climb a tree or clear a patch of forest, then use the sun’s position to determine our direction. The Centaur Hills are to the east of the Endless Forest. If we can’t find His Highness, we’ll just head east, and we’ll eventually get back to the Centaur Hills. However…”

He paused, then continued, “General Moonsong’s experience wasn’t wrong either. The rainforest environment does change. We should be on the lookout for that… what was it she called it? A ‘water sprite’.”

Because the rainforest plants grew so rapidly, the Elven General’s experience was not wrong. And because the Elven General’s experience was not wrong, the guiding ‘Fey’ she mentioned might also exist.

This was Narsen’s simple logic. Coming from the mouth of a Gold-rank Ferocious warrior, it carried significant weight and influenced the judgment of the others.

Klaus nodded and said, “Our group is small, so we can move quickly and flexibly. We’ll maintain a forced march of 300 kilometers per day, resting once every two days. Everyone will pair up and stay alert on the road. Report any mysterious phenomena immediately. My lord Narsen and Davy, you will form a pair and take the lead. Red Wolf and Cliff, Rogers and Matthew, you’ll be in the middle of the formation. Brandon and I will be a pair, bringing up the rear.”

“We’ll apply the herbal paste now, and then go find His Highness.”

The herbal paste prepared by the Alchemical militia was in a pit dug in the ground. They took off their Thorium inner armor, jumped in naked, and then climbed out, their bodies covered in the mud. It gave them a strange smell, but it wasn’t unpleasant.

Narsen grumbled as he took off his inner armor, “I don’t really need to cover myself in mud. The bugs don’t dare bite me. All I have to do is glare, and they drop dead.”

Rogers asked curiously, “Tutor, why are you going down to put on mud then?”

Narsen had already jumped into the mud pit. He slapped a handful of mud onto his face and laughed heartily. “It’s tiring to keep glaring all the time.”

Red Wolf interjected, “I think My lord just wants to play in the mud.”

“Haha, you’re right.”

When it was finally Brandon’s turn to apply the herbal paste, he frowned in disgust and shook his head. “I’ve never played in mud before…”

“Go on, have some fun.” Covered in black mud, Narsen gave Brandon a push on the shoulder. The handsome young Knight fell straight into the mud pit. When he climbed out, he looked just like everyone else.

Narsen had never been one for airs of authority. Even after advancing to a Gold-rank Ferocious warrior, his temperament hadn’t changed; he still loved to mingle with his subordinates. After their playful shenanigans, the eight men were completely covered in mud. They put on their Thorium inner armor, vine boots, vine shoulder guards, and vine helmets, and hoisted the wicker baskets onto their backs. Even the fastidious Brandon had transformed into a thorough jungle native, with no trace of a human Knight’s noble bearing left.

He couldn’t help but lament, “If the beautiful Miss Silverdeer saw me like this, she definitely wouldn’t want to say a single word to me.”

The Miss Silverdeer the young Knight spoke of was a Tree Elf from Aylanta. Elves are naturally drawn to people with high aesthetic appeal, and Brandon, handsome and comely, was second only to Victor in the Randell family in terms of looks. He was popular among the Tree Elf Wind Walk Archers and felt a certain ambiguity with the Miss Silverdeer who was close to him. What he didn’t know was that unmarried female Elves only develop romantic feelings during their courting season, after which they remain devoted to their lover for life. Miss Silverdeer wasn’t actually in love with Brandon; it was all his own delusion.

There were many things Brandon didn’t know. For instance, his slight resistance to the herbal mud was born of a Knight-Noble’s habit, which was in turn closely related to their living environment. Humans are a primordial being, possessing a racial talent for adapting to their surroundings. Brandon’s ultimate choice to coat his body in the herbal paste and wear equipment woven from vines signified that he had temporarily overcome his aversion, accepting the assimilation and absorption of the rainforest environment on a spiritual level.

This was precisely what Victor strove to avoid. He always carefully protected his human bloodline, because changes on the spiritual level would feed back into the body and bloodline.

Narsen, Brandon, and the others were of pure human bloodline and didn’t share Victor’s worries. It would take an exceedingly long time for the pan-consciousness of the Endless Forest to assimilate humans into a new intelligent species adapted to the forest environment. As for the Alchemical humans, they would never be assimilated by their external environment.

In general, the physical and mental adjustments Narsen and his group made to adapt to the rainforest environment had only benefits and no drawbacks. However, by proactively accepting the mental touch of the rainforest’s pan-consciousness, they would easily fall into the Nature Spirit barrier secretly arranged by the Assyrian Shaman, stumbling into ‘Bel’s Whimsical Forest’ and never finding their liege lord.

For now, they were completely unaware of this, but it wouldn’t be long before they personally experienced the rainforest’s mysterious power.

The party of eight moved through the rainforest at an incredible speed. Narsen was a Gold-rank Ferocious warrior, Red Wolf was Silver-rank, and Rogers was Bronze-rank. These three Ferocious warriors formed a three-tiered, multi-layered sense of intuitive premonition, allowing them to avoid dangerous areas in the rainforest ahead of time. They traveled at a speed of about 320 kilometers a day, marching nonstop for two days before resting for half a day, and then continuing on their way.

Ten days later, Narsen had led his men nearly 1500 kilometers, yet they were still in the rainforest. Just how large this rainforest was, no one now knew. Along the way, they had encountered many strange and bizarre plants and animals.

A Green-furred Tiger, a tiger with dark green fur, a large head, and a short tail; an Ox-frog, a toad the size of an ox that looked very formidable; a Fire-breathing Giant Worm, over six meters long and as thick as a water tank, its mouth filled with dense, barbed teeth, capable of spewing a corrosive liquid that caused plants to wither and char.

This monster was actually killed by a tree.

It was a towering tree with countless moving vines hanging down. It forcibly dragged the Fire-breathing Giant Worm into the air, wrapping it tighter and tighter until it became a large ball of vines. Narsen only watched from a distance, not daring to get close. He gave the tree a name: the Devil Man-eating Tree.

These were dangers the small squad could handle. There were some places Narsen wouldn’t even glance at.

On the fourteenth day deep in the rainforest, Narsen witnessed a well-matched battle on the edge of a river. He tiptoed back into the dense jungle and returned to the team’s resting spot, whispering to the others, “This is insane. Do you know what I just saw?”

Before anyone could ask, he continued, “Three Slime Behemoths, the same kind of Undead Creature from the Forest of Despair, were fighting a group of Ant-men…”

Red Wolf was startled and asked, “Ant-men? Why didn’t I sense any danger?”

“That’s why I said it’s insane. I didn’t sense any danger either.” Narsen was completely baffled, a look of confusion on his face. “There was a Silver-rank Ant-man chief there, and I didn’t feel a thing. If I hadn’t heard the commotion, I wouldn’t have even known the Ant-men and Slime Behemoths were fighting by the river.”

Rogers, who had never witnessed the terror of the Ant-men, asked curiously, “So who won? My bet’s on the Slime Behemoths. Those monsters are tough to deal with.”

Narsen fell silent for a moment, then shook his head. “Over a hundred Ant-men couldn’t defeat the three Slime Behemoths. But a Giant Shield Beetle flew over, smashed the largest Slime Behemoth flat, and pulled its skull out from the black slime to crush it… I estimate by now, all three Slime Behemoths are done for.”

The expeditionary force and the Elven Empire’s combat professionals had encountered the attacks of Giant Shield Beetles in the temple. This happened after His Highness Randell killed the Black Blood Sovereign. The Giant Shield Beetles were indestructible and astonishingly strong, possessing Gold-rank power, and had left a deep impression on Narsen.

According to the Dark Elf priestess, the Giant Shield Beetles were Gros Insectoid Demons from the Abyss, but the giant beetles that attacked the temple were all Undead Creatures.

Klaus muttered to himself, “Undead Creatures fighting Undead Creatures? What’s going on? Could the Lord of Sorrow who communicated with Your Excellency Imosen through whispers be the Ant-man Empress that Master mentioned? Then whose will do the Slime Behemoths obey?”

Narsen shook his head, his expression grim. “It’s not an Undead Creature… I confirmed that that giant beetle is alive!”

Brandon was stunned for a moment, then gritted his teeth and said, “Damn it! The ant swarms have a new combat strain, and it’s the incredibly powerful Giant Shield Beetle! We have to get this information to Master as soon as possible!”

Narsen nodded and said, “We can’t stay here any longer. There are Ant-men active ahead, so we can only take a detour. We’ll head north for now!”

Chapter 845: Trapped in a Bewildering Maze

“In truth, Narsen’s squad was already approaching the edge of the battlefield where the Ant-man Empress and the Pale Sovereign were fighting. A little farther and they would enter the heart of the conflict, where they might have a chance to find Victor.

”

“The Ant-man Empress and Victor had an agreement: until Beldina was found, the ant swarms would not take the initiative to attack Victor and his men. The Ant-man Empress was also worried that His Highness Randell, a Demigod, would go off to hunt and kill a low-level guard ant to seize the Soul Fire units from an Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower. This agreement constrained both sides. And because Her promise acted directly on the Will Side of the Ant-men’s souls, the Ant-men bore no hostility toward Narsen and his group, so they naturally didn’t trigger the danger sense of the Ferocious warriors.

”

“As for the Slime Behemoths split off from the Pale Sovereign, they were Undead Creatures. They possessed no self-awareness, their psychic activity as silent as dead embers, which had always allowed them to bypass the psychic intuition of a Ferocious warrior.

”

“Precognition of danger was the Ferocious warriors’ greatest trump card, and now that it had suddenly failed, Narsen unhesitatingly chose to make a wide detour to the north of the rainforest, intending to first escape the Ant-men’s range of activity before making any further plans.

”

“The eight of them retreated in a hurry, moving at full speed to leave this part of the rainforest. But without their danger precognition, none of them knew if heading north was the right choice. It would be disastrous if they ran headlong into an encirclement by the ant swarms.

”

“Klaus came up with an idea. He had Rogers and Red Wolf simultaneously perceive dangerous areas. Rogers could sense dangers of Bronze-rank and above, while Red Wolf was responsible for ruling out Silver-rank danger zones. The team would then advance in the direction indicated by both men. Areas with Bronze-rank monsters or beasts were unlikely to have Ant-men, and Bronze-rank beasts posed almost no threat to them; their eight-man squad could pass through with ease.

”

“Narsen praised Klaus profusely. He led the team on a three-day, three-night run, a close call but ultimately without incident, moving over one thousand kilometers to the north of the rainforest. This kind of forced march had pushed the squad to its limit. Red Wolf, the poorest in stamina, was starting to get winded. He was stretched taut with tension, and his pace inevitably slowed.

”

““We have to rest. We need to preserve our strength for fighting and fleeing,” Klaus couldn’t help but say.

”

“A purple gleam of sword light carved a perfect semicircular arc, slicing through a patch of dense rainforest vegetation. Narsen stopped and turned, sheathing his Adamantine beheading sword. He nodded to his adjutant and said,”You all rest here. I’ll check the vicinity. If there are no issues, we’ll make camp and recuperate.”

”

“With that, he tucked the beheading sword under his arm and ducked into a nearby thicket of wormwood. The blades of grass swayed, and he soon disappeared from everyone’s sight.

”

“Narsen was the strongest, so he didn’t need the Alchemical militia Davy’s help to scout. Davy wouldn’t have been able to keep up with his speed and would have only been a burden.

”

“The three Alchemical militia in the squad chopped through several brown vines as thick as a child’s arm, and a pale green liquid immediately trickled out. The rainforest was rich in water, but the water here couldn’t be drunk indiscriminately. Most sources were contaminated by parasitic seeds, which would inevitably cause trouble if ingested. The Purification Crystals that the House of Randell had sourced from Lizard Marsh could purify water sources. The eight-man squad carried two such crystals, but they only worked at night, absorbing impurities from the water, so the amount of purified drinking water was limited. Fortunately, the Alchemical militia could also recognize several types of water-sucking vines whose sap, though slightly bitter, was safe to drink.

”

“The men each gathered around a water-sucking vine to quench their thirst. Then, they took turns sitting on the ground, circulating their family’s secret arts to regulate their breathing and harness their inner potential. This lowered their heart rate and body temperature, allowing them to rapidly recover their physical strength and vigor.

”

“As the light in the rainforest gradually dimmed, Narsen had yet to return from his reconnaissance, and a sense of unease began to creep over the group. Ordinarily, with Narsen’s strength, no one would need to worry about his safety. But with the elf General’s descriptions of the rainforest, coupled with the failure of the Ferocious warriors’ danger sense against the Ant-men, it was hard not to feel suspicious and feel a kind of formless pressure.

”

“Just as the atmosphere grew heavier, Narsen returned from the depths of the rainforest, shouldering his kill. He threw the animal to the ground and said,”I didn’t find any signs of Ant-man activity nearby, but there was a Savage green-furred tiger. It wanted to keep this prey and confronted me, but I scared it off… Davy, can we eat this long-nosed wild boar for dinner?”

”

““We can.”

”

“The Alchemical militia inspected the prey his commander had brought back and gave a firm reply.

”

“Narsen personally handled the kill. Beneath his sword, the”long-nosed wild boar,” weighing over four hundred pounds, was instantly broken down into chunks of meat suitable for cooking. The others gathered firewood, fetched water, and collected edible mushrooms, wild vegetables, and plant roots to use as spices and side dishes. They tucked them evenly between the pieces of meat, then started a bonfire. The skewered pork was placed over the fire to roast slowly until the meat turned golden-brown, its fat dripping onto the orange-red flames and releasing a rich, enticing aroma.

”

“The men sat around the bonfire and enjoyed a hearty meal, their mouths slick with grease as they sang its praises. In truth, the roasted meat was a bit bland, lacking salt for seasoning. But the taste wasn’t what was important. The fact that Narsen could snatch food from a tiger’s mouth meant this part of the rainforest was relatively safe, that the eight-man squad had escaped the Ant-men’s range of activity. The sense of urgency naturally vanished, making even a simple meal of roasted meat and wild vegetables seem particularly delicious.

”

“After discussing it, they all agreed to rest in this part of the rainforest for two days to replenish their resources and reapply their herbal mud camouflage. The morning after next, they would figure out a way to rendezvous with His Highness Randell.

”

“The next day, the others went out to gather and hunt, while the one-armed Rogers and the Alchemical militia Matthew stayed at the camp, solely responsible for preparing journey rations. They dug a dozen fire pits, wrapped fresh meat and mushrooms in large, round leaves, and placed them under the pits to heat and dry. Then they dug them out, hung them on racks, and smoked them with thick smoke, letting a layer of black charcoal form on the surface to preserve them for some time.

”

“It was a tedious job, but Rogers possessed the tenacity and patience of a mountain folk hunter and, more importantly, understood the value of food. He worked from morning till afternoon, preparing enough journey rations to fill more than half a large vine basket, having processed all the prey, roots, and mushrooms the gathering team had brought back midway. He sat on a log, drinking water and resting, when the corner of his eye caught a flash of a yellow shadow in the jungle to his left.

”

“The elf General had once mentioned mysterious water sprites, a claim Narsen also believed to be true, and their adjutant Klaus had instructed everyone to be wary of any anomalies in the rainforest. The matter had been weighing on Rogers’s mind. The yellow shadow had vanished in an instant, and he hadn’t gotten a clear look at it, but he immediately jumped to his feet and asked his ally,”Matthew, there was something moving in the rainforest to the left. Did you see what it was?”

”

“Matthew put down his work and turned to say,”Looked like a yellow marten.”

”

““A yellow marten?” Rogers thought for a moment but still felt uneasy. He picked up the Dwarf’s femur-breaker and said, “I’ll go take a look.”

”

“An ordinary person would never be able to find a yellow marten in the dense jungle, but Rogers, who came from a line of mountain folk hunters, not only had keen senses but also understood the habits of martens. Relying on his experience, he strode through the wormwood thicket, his throat issuing heavy panting sounds, and finally pulled the marten out from its hiding place in a tree hollow.

”

“The yellow marten, its eyes blood-red, squeaked and struggled in the hunter’s hand. Its pelt was beautiful and would fetch at least one silver coin at the marketplace, but there wasn’t much meat on it. Rogers toyed with it for a while before letting it go. When he returned the way he came, he suddenly discovered that Matthew was gone. In fact, the entire camp was gone.

”

“Rogers cautiously circled the area a few times, finally confirming that he had lost his way. It seemed almost impossible, but it had indeed happened. Rogers suppressed the panic in his heart and did not call for help. He retreated to the spot where he had found the yellow marten, leaped up into a large, leafy banyan tree, and leaned back against the trunk, patiently awaiting rescue from his allies.

”

“Rogers became the first member of the squad to mysteriously disappear, the cause being the”water sprite” seen and mentioned by Iluth Moonsong, not that ordinary yellow marten.

”

“Where there was a first, there would be a second.

”

“The next morning, sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, striking Rogers’s face and waking him from a light sleep. A familiar voice called out,”Hey, buddy, it’s Red Wolf. Do you see me?”

”

“Red Wolf, his eyes covered with a strip of beast hide, stood not far away, holding a long wooden spear.

”

“Rogers was overjoyed. He grabbed his femur-breaker, jumped down from the banyan tree, and walked over to his ally, saying happily,”I knew the blind man was something special.”

”

““You fellow, how could you get lost all by yourself?” Red Wolf was also happy. He complained first before continuing, “It’s just my good luck that I found you; I was assigned to search in this direction. I say, buddy, if you’re lost, don’t you know how to call for help?”

”

“Rogers shook his head and said seriously,”Shouting in the wilderness is the surest way to get killed.” He paused, then asked curiously, “Oh, right, you can’t see. How did you find me?”

”

““Who says I can’t see?” Red Wolf pointed at his own eyes and said, quite pleased with himself,”My eyes are blind, but now I can ‘see’ images of my surroundings through vibrations. The images have no color and they flicker, but there are no blind spots… I think I’ve learned what Master Randell called Blind Sense. I detected the footprints you left, tracked you here, heard your heartbeat, and then called out to you. That’s when I ‘saw’ you.”

”

“Rogers’s eyes widened.”You have a skill like that! Didn’t the new weeds and vines cover my tracks?”

”

“Red Wolf chuckled.”Didn’t His Highness say it? You have to learn to ignore unimportant information. I ignored the weeds and vines, and that’s how I could make out your footprints… It was meticulous work, so I was slow, but I found you in the end.” He patted Rogers on the shoulder and added, “Buddy, why don’t you use your brain? You don’t dare shout for help in the wilderness, but you couldn’t climb a tree and look for smoke? You got yourself lost and made everyone split up to look for you. When we see My lord Narsen, he’s definitely going to chew you out.”

”

“Rogers hung his head in shame and muttered,”I did look, but I didn’t see the camp’s smoke…”

”

““Hmm?”

”

“Red Wolf and Rogers had worked together for several years, trained rigorously at Quicksilver Manor, and had also studied tracking techniques. By all rights, Rogers shouldn’t have been unable to see the smoke. Suspicion immediately rose in Red Wolf’s heart. He pondered for a moment and said,”I dragged my stick along the ground on my way here to leave a trail… Come on, I’ll take you back to camp.”

”

“Rogers didn’t overthink it and followed closely behind Red Wolf. They walked for some distance when Red Wolf suddenly stopped and cocked an ear.”Rogers, check the ground. Do you still see the trail I made?”

”

“Rogers got down in the grass and carefully searched the ground for the mark left by the stick, but he couldn’t find the trail Red Wolf spoke of.

”

“Even the dullest person would realize that this situation was abnormal. Rogers was no fool. He thought he was the reason his ally had also gotten lost in the mysterious rainforest. He stammered,”The trail… it ends here. Red Wolf, what do we do now?”

”

““…There’s only one way.” Red Wolf was silent for a moment, then shouted at the top of his lungs:

”

“My lord Narsen! Brandon! Klaus! Cliff! Davy! Matthew! We’re lost! Help!”

”

“Crying for help might have worked. Red Wolf and Rogers wandered the rainforest for three days and three nights. They chopped down trees to make fires, dug pits to leave markers—they tried every method they could think of, including yelling for help every day. On the morning of the fourth day, Klaus found them. That afternoon, Brandon appeared. On the sixth day, the four of them reunited with Narsen, but there was still no news of the three Alchemical militia.

”

“They gathered together, thought back carefully, and discussed it with each other. In the end, they unanimously concluded that they had encountered a mysterious phenomenon in the rainforest. Brandon shook his head and sighed,”It seems Davy and the other two got lost. Is it because they were the weakest?”

”

“Narsen’s expression was grim.”No, it’s possible that we are the ones who are lost… I can no longer sense My lord Victor’s location. My lord Victor couldn’t possibly be lost too, could he?”

”

““My lord, what do we do now?” Klaus asked softly.

”

“His men were all looking at him with expectant eyes. Narsen forced a relaxed tone.”It’s alright. We can use the sun to find our bearings. We can definitely find the Asoerta Mountains to the east. As long as we find the mountains, we can get home. But we can’t just leave Davy and the others behind… Let’s look for them first. If we can’t find them in ten days, we’ll cross the Asoerta Mountains, head straight east through the Oak Prairie, and go to the Grey Rabbit Mountains… I estimate Lady Sylvia has already sent a vanguard legion to the Grey Rabbit Outpost. We have to get the news about My lord Victor to My Lady.”

”

“Victor had left men behind in both the Oak Prairie and the Grey Rabbit Mountains, establishing forward outposts. These were the expeditionary force’s reinforcements. Although they were far away, for Narsen and his men, this wasn’t a major problem.

”

“Of course, they had to look for the three missing Alchemical militia; they were part of the family, after all. In truth, Narsen was unwilling to return just like that. He wanted to try again to see if he could find Victor. However, the five of them were now lost, and even their own survival was uncertain. As the commander, his first priority was to set the others’ minds at ease.

”

“In the following search, the five of them didn’t dare to separate easily. They kept an eye on one another, even trying to stick together when relieving themselves. They wandered like this in the mysterious rainforest for four days. As they neared a river, Red Wolf, whose hearing was exceptionally sharp, suddenly said in a low voice,”My lord Narsen, I think there are people in the woods to our right…”

”

“Narsen immediately waved for the squad to take cover. He lowered his voice and asked,”People? Red Wolf, are you sure they’re people, not monsters?”

”

“Red Wolf took a long, deep breath, concentrating as he listened intently. A moment later, he nodded in confirmation.”They’re humans… at least, humanoid creatures. Thirty-two of them in total, but it’s not Davy and the others.”

”

“Narsen lowered his eyelids, hiding the gleam in his eyes. He spoke with barely concealed excitement,”They might be the Azoretta people. Let’s sneak over and take a look.”

”

”

Chapter 846: The Slaver Party

The ancestor of the Trigovar Paladin family had dealings with the Assyrian Empire, and his biography contained intelligence on the Assyrians.

Assyrians, barbarians, Dwarves, and Halflings were all non-human races. Barbarians were tall and strong, generally over two and a half meters in height, with arms thicker than a normal man’s thigh. Caligula of House of Randell was nicknamed the Giant, but in front of an adult barbarian, he would be considered a dwarf, his frame a full size smaller. Dwarves were stout and sturdy, with an average height of one and a half meters, bodies shaped like barrels, large noses, small eyes, and thick hair, with beards that could reach their chests. Halflings were adorable in appearance, standing only one point one meters tall, like miniature humans.

Of the four non-human races discovered so far, only the Assyrians had a physical appearance closest to that of humans; the differences lay only in certain physical traits. The ancestor Trigovar recorded that adult Assyrians had fine scales on the soles of their feet, their elbows, and behind their ears. Their canine teeth were hollow, similar to a snake’s fangs. Their pupils were very small, only a third the size of human pupils, and were a dark green color. If one ignored these minor details, Assyrians and humans were not markedly different, at least in appearance.

“The first time we saw Assyrians in the Endless Forest, we felt a sense of kinship. Even knowing they were a race that worshipped Devils, we still could not accept the Assyrian Wizard King’s cruel Blood Sacrifice rituals.”

There was such a passage in the notes of the Trigovar Paladin. Now, peering through the gaps in the tall grass, Klaus saw a group of living Assyrians with his own eyes and understood where the legendary paladin’s so-called kinship came from.

This was a group of juvenile Assyrians, both male and female. The oldest looked like a human girl of about ten, and the youngest was an infant held in an Assyrian girl’s arms. They wore brightly colored flax clothing, their hair was unbound, and none of them wore shoes. They were huddled together with wooden expressions, their eyes filled with confusion, looking like the pitiful victims of a recent disaster. Their helpless state stirred a sense of pity in the young Knight from House of Randell.

Having been away from Laketon for nearly two years, the sudden sight of Assyrians who so closely resembled human children in this primeval forest made Klaus think of his home.

Klaus silently retreated deeper into the rainforest. He nodded to his allies and said, “Those Assyrians are indeed a group of children.”

Narsen stroked his chin and mused, “Something feels wrong. These Assyrian children are unarmed, their clothes are brightly colored, and there are no adults with them. They’re too conspicuous in the rainforest.”

Rogers, who came from the mountain folk, said in a low voice, “In the mountain stronghold, parents also dress their children in brightly colored clothes. It makes them easier to see so they don’t get lost.”

Brandon looked down at the dark mud caked on his own clothes and asked with interest, “So you’re saying that only adult mountain folk hunters need camouflage? Children don’t go out to hunt, so dressing them in bright clothes makes it easier for the elders to keep an eye on them.”

Rogers grinned and nodded. “The little ones like to run all over the place. You can’t dress them in green, black, or brown. I never thought Assyrians and us mountain folk hunters would have similar customs.”

Narsen turned his head and asked, “Rogers, then tell me, where did the adult Assyrians go?”

“Well… I don’t know.”

Klaus cleared his throat and interjected, “The ancestor Trigovar’s notes record that the Assyrian Empire’s Blood Sacrifice rituals had been codified into celebratory regulations. A Grand Sacrifice is held every fifteen years, offering up several thousand Assyrians. A Regular Sacrifice is held every four years, offering a hundred or so people. The Nobles of the Assyrian Empire also hold accompanying and celebratory sacrifices, which are considered private rituals. The scale of a private sacrifice cannot exceed thirty people. The offerings for Assyrian Blood Sacrifices are mainly slaves, death row prisoners, volunteers, and savages.”

“The Assyrian Empire’s territory is vast, and it contains many savages similar to human mountain folk. They live in groups, surviving by hunting, gathering, and cultivating a crop called the Kata tree. When the Assyrian Empire holds a Grand or Regular Sacrifice, the Empire’s slaver parties go out to capture savages. They use some of the captured savages as sacrificial offerings and sell the rest to Assyrian Nobles as slaves. The slaver parties have rules for capturing savages, too—they only take the able-bodied young men, leaving behind the old, the weak, the women, and the children.” At this, Klaus paused before continuing, “It’s like harvesting a crop, leaving the seeds behind to grow so they can be harvested again.”

Rogers’s eyes flashed with a vicious light as he clenched his fists and said resentfully, “Damned heretics! Killing their own kind… they’re more cruel than beastmen!”

Red Wolf nodded in agreement. “That’s right. Taking the able-bodied men and leaving only the old, the weak, the women, and the children… How are the savages supposed to survive?”

Brandon, however, shook his head in disagreement. “The Assyrians don’t consider Blood Sacrifice to be an evil or cruel act. In fact, they believe it is a path to the Realm of All Spirits, where the offerings are granted new life. That’s why some Assyrians from the upper echelons of society volunteer to be offerings, as a way to escape illness and poverty. Volunteers can also protect their kin from within the Realm of All Spirits, while also enjoying their kin’s private sacrifices.”

He changed the subject, “Actually, the Assyrians are cruel by Nature. If a savage tribe grows to a certain size, they too will start killing one another, launching headhunting campaigns. Do you know what headhunting is? They cut off the heads of savages from other tribes and use a head-shrinking technique to turn them into ornaments, showing off their martial prowess. This forms what they call ‘Savage Rituals.’ These rituals can give birth to the savages’ Ancestral Spirits, which would endanger the Realm of All Spirits that the Assyrian Empire venerates. From the Assyrian Empire’s perspective, they must crack down on Savage Rituals. Rather than let the savage tribes grow strong enough to hunt each other’s heads, it’s better to capture them as slaves and sacrificial offerings. Besides, the slaver parties don’t take all of the able-bodied young men. Based on the size of the tribe, they deliberately let a certain number go—five, ten—as long as they run faster than the others, the slavers won’t catch them. They let these young men return to the tribe to become new chiefs, and all the savage women become the new chiefs’ wives.”

Red Wolf said with a fawning smile, “Brandon, Klaus, you two know so much.”

Brandon lifted his chin slightly with a proud look, while Klaus said calmly, “The Master obtained the notes of the ancestor Trigovar, the Paladin. It’s all in there.”

Rogers turned to look at Narsen and asked with some anticipation, “Tutor, have you also read the Paladin’s notes?”

The renowned Bear of the Northlands glared and bellowed, “What time do I have to read a Paladin’s notes?”

Narsen spent a great deal of time every day practicing his secret martial arts and had to handle military affairs in his remaining time, leaving him with no mind to study the Trigovar Paladin’s notes. The situation was similar for the other Ferocious warriors. The Knights’ power, however, was almost innate, so Klaus and Brandon had time for more scholarly pursuits. Victor was training the family’s young Knights to be staff officers, so intelligence materials, including the Paladin’s notes, were given to Klaus and Brandon to review.

“A Grand Sacrifice every fifteen years… The Assyrian Empire is matching the cycle of the Ant-man tide.” Narsen nodded thoughtfully, then asked, “What kind of extraordinary powers do the Assyrians gain from their Blood Sacrifices?”

Klaus replied, “The ancestor Trigovar only recorded two combat abilities. The first is the Assyrian Warriors’ ‘Fell Spirit Possession,’ which enhances all of their personal capabilities, most notably their strength and their ‘Undead Reanimation.’ After an Assyrian Warrior falls in battle, they will continue to fight for a period in undead form. The half-man, half-dog Black Blood Demons we encountered in the Assyrian Temple were very similar to the Undead Reanimation described in the Paladin’s notes. Therefore, I speculate that ‘Fell Spirit Possession’ actually grants Assyrian Warriors the ability of a half-undead transformation.”

“The second combat ability is the Assyrian slaves’ ‘Trollification.’ During the Blood Sacrifice ritual, Assyrian Shamans transform the slaves of high-ranking Assyrian Warriors into muscle-bound monsters over three meters tall. They are mindless, possess fearsome strength and regenerative abilities, and completely obey their master’s commands. The ancestor Trigovar guessed that there is a special soul link between the Slave Troll and its master. Slave Trolls and Assyrian Warriors are the main force used to fight the ant swarms.”

“Trolls?” Narsen’s eyes lit up as a thought struck him. “Were those Slime Behemoths we encountered trolls?”

Klaus shook his head and responded, “According to the Paladin’s notes, trolls are living monsters with half-undead characteristics, but they are definitely connected to the Slime Behemoths. After all, those writings are from over one thousand five hundred years ago. Who knows what the Assyrians went through after the Assyrian Empire’s rout? Perhaps the Assyrian Shamans lost the ability of half-undead transformation and can only create Undead Creatures now.”

“I think the Undead Creatures are more formidable,” Rogers interjected.

“If the Undead Creatures are difficult to control, the Assyrians’ combat capabilities would be greatly diminished,” Brandon explained with a smile.

Narsen nodded, agreeing with Brandon, but the historical development of the Assyrian Empire was not his main concern. He asked, “What kind of extraordinary abilities do the Assyrian savages get from their Savage Rituals?”

Brandon replied, “It’s not written in the Paladin’s notes.”

Narsen didn’t pay much mind to this answer. He nodded and said, “We’re lost. We need a native guide. The fact that a legendary paladin one thousand five hundred years ago could deal with the Assyrian Wizard King shows that the Assyrians can be reasoned with. However, the Paladin tricked the Assyrian Shaman, so the descendants of the Assyrian Empire are unlikely to be friendly towards us. Our own strength is relatively weak, so we must avoid the Assyrian Shamans and Warriors. But capturing a savage who knows the way should be no problem.”

That Narsen had survived this long was a testament to his indispensable qualities of courage, tenacity, and caution. In this mysterious rainforest, he needed a native guide, but he was also wary of the Assyrian spellcasters.

Several years ago, Princess Elizabeth Frederick had been attacked and gone missing in the Dodor Kingdom, and the clergy protecting her had suffered heavy casualties. That incident demonstrated the terrifying destructive power of a well-prepared spellcaster; even the Gold Paladin of the Testier family had only been able to protect himself.

Narsen had no intention of provoking the Assyrian Shamans and Warriors with their established legacy. He just wanted to pick on the savages, and specifically, savages who had already been attacked by a slaver party.

According to the functional structure of the Randall mercenary legion, Legion Commander Narsen decided on the strategic objective, while the Knight staff officers were responsible for the detailed planning and execution. Klaus and Brandon huddled together, whispering. They deduced that a nearby savage tribe must have suffered a catastrophe, and the juvenile savages had fled here. However, capturing a young savage as a guide would be of little use. It would be best to capture an old savage who was familiar with the rainforest.

Without adult supervision, it was nearly impossible for these savage children to survive in the wilderness. Before long, they would return to the home they knew best. The five-man squad just had to follow these children to find the savage tribe. Once they found it, they could adjust their plan according to the actual situation.

As dusk fell, the thirty-two young savages, led by the older children, indeed headed deeper into the rainforest. Narsen’s team followed them from a distance. After traveling for about ten kilometers, they saw a dilapidated savage camp.

The young savages called out for their elders and relatives. Their cries were desolate, but the entire camp remained silent. The children were now exhausted and frightened. After crying for a while, they entered a relatively intact thatched hut, closed the door, and made no more loud noises.

In the dead of night, a watery mist rose and filled the rainforest. From time to time, the roars of various wild beasts could be heard, but the savage camp was deathly silent. Most of the savage children hiding in the hut were asleep, and those who were awake did not dare to venture out at this hour. The five-man squad moved silently into the camp, quickly surveyed the scene, and then slipped away again without disturbing the ignorant and unwitting savage children.

The squad slipped into the nearby rainforest, found a temporary resting spot, and gathered in a circle to discuss.

Klaus was the first to analyze, “From the tracks in the camp, the battle took place last night. A slaver party of about eighty people staged a surprise night raid on this savage camp. They first took out the sentries, broke through the poison-thorn fence, and launched a fierce attack on the sleeping savages, but they also met with fierce resistance. The slaver party killed at least twenty savages and a few large-headed lizard war beasts, completely shattering this savage tribe’s will to fight. Some savages escaped in the chaos, but most were captured on the spot. The ones who escaped were mainly women, children, and the elderly; you can tell from the footprints. The adult savage women and the old savages probably couldn’t get far. The slavers let them escape on purpose to wear down the savage men’s will to resist. Once the able-bodied young men surrendered without a fight, the slavers sent people to recapture the adult women and the elderly, letting only the young children go. Also, when they left, they disposed of the bodies and bloodstains in the camp and left behind some food, tools, and weapons. With the camp’s poison-thorn fence and the provisions, those young savages might be able to survive.”

Rogers slammed his fist into a nearby tree trunk, leaving a dent in the hard wood. He gritted his teeth and said, “Without adult care, it’ll be hard for those little ones to survive.”

As he spoke, he received a slap on the head. Narsen said angrily, “What’s that got to do with us? Let’s worry about keeping our own people alive first!”

“I’m sorry, Tutor, I was wrong,” Rogers immediately bowed his head to Narsen in apology.

Brandon frowned and said, “The Assyrian slaver party captured even the savage women and elderly. That doesn’t match what’s in the Paladin’s notes.”

Narsen didn’t have time to continue scolding his favorite student. He turned and said, “Think about it. Could the slavers’ unusual behavior have something to do with the Ant-men?”

Klaus chimed in, “My lord means that the battle between the Ant-men and the Slime Behemoths has put the descendants of the Assyrian Empire under the pressure of war, so they’re capturing savages to conduct a large-scale Blood Sacrifice?”

Narsen nodded, his eyes blazing. “The slaver party didn’t destroy the savage camp’s poison-thorn fence. They left food for the children so they could survive in the camp for a while. The slavers can still come back and take the trapped children. That’s because the children move too slowly to keep up with the adults.”

A thought struck Brandon, and he ventured, “Does his Lordship mean…”

Narsen looked around at his four subordinates and asked in a low voice, “None of you have forgotten Lord Victor’s purpose for this expedition into the Endless Forest, have you? To scout the Ant-man lairs, and if the opportunity arises, to eliminate the Ant-man plague right here in the Endless Forest! Now, with a war breaking out between the Ant-men and the Assyrian descendants, the chance to deal with the Ant-men is here. How could Lord Victor possibly miss this opportunity?”

“I have a feeling that if we follow the slaver party, we might be able to rendezvous with Lord Victor.” Narsen took a deep breath and said, “The slavers captured the young able-bodied men as well as the women and the elderly. They’ll most likely escort the prisoners in separate groups. This is our chance… Red Wolf, can you track the slaver party and the savage captives in this rainforest?”

The blind Ferocious Warrior thumped his chest and said with full confidence, “My lord, rest assured. Leave the tracking of the Assyrian slaver party to me!”

Chapter 847: Reunion

As the Assyrian slaver party was escorting the savages across the river, Narsen’s squad began to tail them.

The savage captives were all women and the elderly, dressed in simple animal skins with their arms bound behind their backs. Two long poles clamped their necks together, locking ten captives into a single line. There were twelve such lines in total, each guarded by two Assyrian warriors.

The Assyrian warriors carried wooden clubs with hammerheads of polished stone tied to one end. They wore an ornament of strung bone and wood chips over their shoulders and chest, and a loincloth around their waists. They were nearly naked, with no armor to speak of. Their muscles were solid and their physiques lean and strong, a stark contrast to the gaunt, stooped savage captives.

The river was not particularly deep, only reaching the Assyrians’ thighs, but the current was swift. It buffeted the savage captives, making them stumble and sway. Fortunately, the long poles clamping their necks held them together. Though they couldn’t escape, they could support one another against the rushing water, staggering and struggling through the river.

Narsen had grown up in a mercenary company and was highly experienced in scouting enemies, possessing an incredibly sharp eye. A single glance was enough for him to grasp the general state of this group. The Assyrian warriors’ weapons and equipment were exceptionally crude, their bearing valiant and primitive, and their morale seemed decent, but their individual strength was quite ordinary. If this squad of Assyrians possessed no special abilities, even Rogers, the weakest of the five, could annihilate them all. However, for Assyrian warriors to dare escort captives through the wilderness, they must have something to rely on.

Either they possessed extraordinary abilities invisible to the naked eye, or the route they were taking was safe enough that they didn’t fear attacks from wild beasts or monsters.

Narsen leaned toward the latter. Measuring by his own standards, he released a sliver of malice, but the Assyrian warriors didn’t notice it at all. Even if they had some hidden skills, they were not on the same level as Narsen; they were still unequivocally the weaker party. Moreover, Narsen noticed that the Assyrians escorting over one hundred captives were carrying very few supplies, which meant their destination was not far from the river. There was likely a slaver party outpost or stronghold up ahead that could provide timely shelter and support.

Additionally, Narsen’s gaze remained fixed on an old savage. He was confined in a cage woven from vines, carried by two Assyrian warriors. The old savage was short, withered, and thin, with sparse white hair. One arm was bare from the elbow down—he was a disabled person. And yet, his cheeks were round and shiny, which looked jarringly out of place with his gaunt, frail body. Upon closer inspection, the old savage’s puffy face was clearly swollen, especially his lips, which resembled two ridiculous sausages. Strangely, there were no obvious external injuries on his body, nor were there any marks of whipping on his face. Narsen guessed the swelling on the old man’s mouth and face was either from a bee sting or the effect of some drug.

Regardless, with his mouth swollen to this state, the old savage was basically unable to speak, much less chant spells.

The old savage in the cage was also the only one among the Assyrians and their captives who reacted to Narsen’s malice. Through eyes that were mere slits, he stared directly at the hiding spot of the five-man squad.

The captive’s strange behavior alerted the Assyrian warriors. They stopped and began to threaten the old man with a torrent of guttural words, but with his face and mouth so swollen, the captive couldn’t answer. The Assyrians had no choice but to turn and scan the jungle on the riverbank.

Narsen and his men were covered from head to toe in dark green herbal mud and hidden in the shadows of the trees, blending seamlessly with their surroundings. The Assyrian warriors failed to spot their trackers, but they began to drag and herd the lines of savage captives, hastening their river crossing.

Once their targets had vanished into the forest on the opposite bank, Narsen turned to Red Wolf and grinned. “Well done. Any later and they would have gotten away.”

The river water would have washed away all footprints. Red Wolf had managed to lead his allies to catch up with the slaver party before they crossed, allowing the group to continue their pursuit.

Klaus said, “My lord, the old savage in the cage might be the savage tribe’s spellcaster.” He elaborated, “The savages this Assyrian slaver party captured are all the slower, less aggressive women and elderly. There must be another group of able-bodied men up ahead. That old savage is being carried by the Assyrian warriors and could have easily kept up with the front group, but the Assyrians placed him in the rear group, separating him from the able-bodied savages. They’re probably doing this to prevent the old man from using any extraordinary influence on the younger, stronger ones.”

Narsen’s intuition had told him the old savage in the cage was a spellcaster. Now, after his family knight’s methodical analysis, he was certain of his judgment. He asked, “A spellcaster would definitely know more than the others. Should we go capture him?”

Brandon immediately voiced his objection. “But we don’t know the savage spellcaster’s abilities. It would be better to capture an Assyrian warrior and torture him for information. As for the savage spellcaster, it would be safer to just kill him with one strike.”

Narsen thought for a moment and had to agree that Brandon’s suggestion made sense. The old savage’s mouth was too swollen to speak, so he would be impossible to communicate with even if captured. By the time he could talk, he might present an unknown risk. Capturing a few Assyrian warriors was a more suitable option.

Just as Narsen was about to make a decision, the reticent Rogers suddenly spoke. “I feel… there’s danger in the forest on the other side.”

“You feel it too? I was just about to warn everyone,” Red Wolf said with a grave expression. “There’s danger hiding in the woods across the river. That hungry, chaotic, barbaric sense of oppression… it’s very similar to the Ogre Brutes I encountered during the beastmen wars a few years ago.”

“Ogres? There are ogres here?”

Red Wolf had been a petty thief, timid and cowardly by nature, which had given him an extraordinarily sharp intuition for danger. Ever since he went blind, his power of the mind had stopped feeding back into his Physique, deepening in the direction of Perception instead. He could now actually distinguish the type of danger, a skill that even Narsen lacked.

If the Assyrian slaver party ran into ogres, they probably wouldn’t leave a single survivor. Narsen made a swift decision. Tucking his Adamantine beheading sword under his arm, he stepped out of the dense woods where he had been hiding. “Let’s follow,” he said as he walked. “If there really are ogres over there, we have to capture an Assyrian no matter what.”

The five of them submerged themselves and crossed the river. Once on the other side, the river water had washed the mud from their bodies, revealing their true appearances. The fine weapons in their hands reflected a metallic sheen, making them stand out conspicuously in the jungle of interwoven green and shadow.

Narsen plunged his Adamantine beheading sword into the dirt to soil the blade, but the concealing effect was better than nothing. He cursed under his breath as he slipped into the trees, deciding not to get too close to their targets. He had Red Wolf lead them from a safe distance behind.

They hadn’t gone far when the scenery in the jungle suddenly changed. They were surrounded by chestnut trees, the most common type in the outskirts of the Randell Fief. Unripe chestnuts hung heavy on the branches, and beneath the trees grew delicious boletus mushrooms and low bushes of red sea buckthorn berries. For a moment, Narsen and his men felt as if they had returned to the forested outskirts of the Randell Fief, and they all stood there, stunned. Only Red Wolf, still unaware of the change in the forest’s environment, pointed north and said excitedly, “There’s movement up ahead… sounds like a fight is about to break out!”

With no time for further thought, Narsen sprinted toward the northern part of the forest. He too could hear the roars of beasts.

The Assyrian slaver party was surrounded by dozens of half-cat, half-ape beasts. They were about the size of jungle leopards, darting back and forth between the trees and the ground, baring their sharp fangs and letting out loud, piercing roars, herding the Assyrian warriors and savage captives toward the center.

The twenty-four Assyrian warriors ignored the captives completely. They stood back-to-back, forming a circle. Some took out poison dart blowpipes, on high alert, but they weren’t aiming at the surrounding beasts. Instead, they stared nervously in one direction.

The heavy sound of footsteps echoed from deep within the woods, and two ogres, nearly three meters tall with blue-gray skin, burst out from the trees. The moment they appeared, the Assyrian warriors with blowpipes puffed out their cheeks and shot deadly poison darts at the two terrifying monsters.

Ogres originated from the Dark Age, the children of the Titans. They were fat and strong, possessed of immense strength, and their charge was like two moving mountains of flesh, their sheer size exuding an intense sense of oppression.

Aside from the barbarians of the Arreat Plateau, no other intelligent race could match an ogre in a contest of strength. When they tensed their thick hides, using their Brute Hide talent, the toughness of their skin was comparable to armor, making them nearly impervious to blades and spears. Even a senior Bronze-rank Knight had to be extremely cautious when facing an Ogre Brute, but the ogres’ most fearsome talent was their combat intuition.

The poison darts spat from the Assyrian warriors’ blowpipes struggled to pierce the ogres’ thick hides. They had aimed for the ogres’ eyes, and the tiny, insidious darts were difficult to defend against, their trajectory hard to track with the naked eye. Yet the ogres had anticipated the attack, raising their hands to block their eyes. The fine, poison-laced needles struck their thick arms and were deflected by their tough Brute Hides.

They gave their opponents no chance for a second volley. Shielding their eyes, they charged, and the Assyrian warriors’ defensive circle was instantly shattered.

Narsen wasn’t concerned with how powerful the two Ogre Brutes were; it was the brilliant coordination between the ogres and the dozens of beasts that sent a tremor through his mind.

Once the two Ogre Brutes broke the Assyrian warriors’ defensive formation, the half-cat, half-ape beasts immediately swarmed in. The beasts attacking from the front blocked the Assyrians’ line of sight, while those biting at their legs dragged their targets to the ground, causing their swings with their stone clubs to go wide, unable to hit the beasts in front. Other beasts took the opportunity to leap onto the Assyrians’ backs, their long, sharp fangs biting straight through their skulls, delivering a fatal blow.

The Assyrian warriors believed they could be resurrected in the Realm of All Spirits. They wore no armor, moved with agility, and were fearless in the face of death, but against these bizarre beasts, they were utterly helpless.

The beasts’ coordination was seamless, giving their prey no opportunity to fight back. It was a one-sided, efficient slaughter. Putting himself in the Assyrians’ position, Narsen reckoned it would take him some time to kill two Ogre Brutes and this pack of strange half-cat, half-ape beasts.

Faced with this desperate situation, the Assyrian warriors’ leader displayed his own extraordinary power. He let out a furious shout, like the roar of a fierce tiger, temporarily stunning the ferociously biting beasts. But his opponents were Ogre Brutes, who hunted tigers for food. They simply raised their millstone-sized hands and swatted straight down at the warrior chief.

The phantom of a fierce tiger flickered over the chief’s body before being reabsorbed. He dodged the ogre’s strike with feline agility, darting behind it and swiping viciously at its back, the phantom of tiger claws appearing with the motion.

There was no sound of nails tearing skin, but the ogre’s Brute Hide, which blades and swords could hardly harm, was marked with four bloody gashes by the unarmed Assyrian warrior.

This level of injury was nothing to the thick-skinned ogre. The Assyrian chief unhesitatingly abandoned his companions, dropped to all fours, and scrambled into the nearby woods. The two Ogre Brutes didn’t pursue him. Instead, to the astonishment of Narsen and his men, they grabbed the cage containing the old savage and ran in the opposite direction, their footsteps thudding loudly as they disappeared into the forest.

“They’re scared… scared of me,” Narsen chuckled, baring his snow-white, chillingly cold teeth.

If the ogres were afraid of Lord Narsen, why did they even show up? Ogres were particularly adept at using trees as weapons, yet these two brutes had attacked the Assyrian slaver party with their bare hands. They had grabbed the old savage and fled in the opposite direction. Did this mean they hadn’t used clubs because they were afraid of killing the Assyrians present? Who on earth had ordered them to do this?

While Klaus was still pondering these questions, Narsen shot forward like an arrow released from a bow, pouncing in the direction the warrior chief had fled. A moment later, half a tiger’s roar abruptly echoed from the forest, only to be cut short, as if the soul-shaking sound had been forcibly choked off in the throat.

At the same time, the dozens of beasts finished slaughtering the ordinary Assyrian warriors. They eagerly tore at the flesh and blood of the corpses, a brutal and gory scene. Then, as if receiving a command, they all began dragging the mangled bodies and charged into the forest, following the path the Ogre Brutes had taken.

Before long, Narsen returned to his subordinates, carrying the Assyrian warrior chief. The Assyrian, whose skin was tattooed with a dumb-looking tiger, dangled limply, his limbs flopping uselessly. Narsen had dislocated one of his cervical vertebrae, knocking him unconscious.

“Let’s go,” Narsen said excitedly. “We’ll track the ogres instead.”

Rogers asked expectantly, “Tutor, what about the savage captives?”

The hundred-odd savage captives were still yoked together by the long wooden poles around their necks. They lay sprawled on the ground, wailing and crying, unable to get up. They would soon become food for wild beasts.

Narsen casually broke a branch from a nearby shrub, turned, and threw it. The branch accurately sliced through the ropes binding an able-bodied savage woman, freeing her arms and hands.

“Hurry up, I suspect Assyrian slaver patrols will be coming,” Narsen said, hoisting his own captive onto his shoulder and taking the lead in pursuit of the fleeing Ogre Brutes and beasts.

The fifty-odd half-cat, half-ape beasts had already dispersed, each climbing into the canopy to enjoy its prey. Narsen had no interest in these beasts. He and his four subordinates followed the tracks of the Ogre Brutes.

The environment of this forest was completely different from the rainforest. It lacked the dense growth of weeds and low shrubs, which actually made it easier for large creatures like ogres to hide. But the two Ogre Brutes were now being tracked by a Gold-rank Ferocious Warrior; it was highly unlikely they would escape from Narsen’s grasp.

The five-man squad followed behind the ogres, finally getting a firsthand taste of the Ogre Brutes’ monstrous stamina. They ran at the speed of a galloping horse, maintaining their pace for over seven hours from morning until evening without slowing down. But Red Wolf was starting to gasp for air, and Klaus and Brandon had to support him on either side to keep up.

“Now I believe the rumors that ogres and bugbears can run a mid-rank Bronze Knight to exhaustion,” Brandon remarked with feeling, before taking a jab at Red Wolf. “They say a Ferocious Warrior’s stamina surpasses a Knight’s. Are you really a Ferocious Warrior?”

Red Wolf panted as he argued, “I’m an agility-focused Ferocious Warrior… I’ve already run three hundred kilometers straight. That’s something I wouldn’t have even dared to imagine before…” He fell silent for a moment, then added weakly, “Why don’t you guys just leave me here? I’ll rest for a bit and find you later.”

“Red Wolf, you don’t mean that.”

Narsen stopped, dropped his captive on the ground, and a smile he couldn’t suppress curled his lips. “No need to run anymore. Look who’s here.”

From deep within the forest, a tall figure ran toward them. He ran straight between the two ogres, snatched the cage containing the old savage, and then promptly kicked the Ogre Brutes’ large behinds, sending them tumbling into a heap. The Ogre Brutes scrambled up and sat on the ground, looking around in a daze. They couldn’t figure out why their Master’s number-one bodyguard had just kicked them.

“Haha, Narsen! Haha, Red Wolf, Rogers, and Klaus and Brandon! The brave Aka has come to your rescue!” Caligula’s silly grin was filled with a moving joy.

Chapter 848: The Precious Divine Kingdom

“Bel’s Whimsical Forest? This secret realm was created by that little chubster?! I simply can’t imagine… This… this is astounding power.”

The leaping flames licked the bottom of the clay pot, causing the mushroom and meat stew inside to bubble and steam. The red campfire light illuminated Narsen’s face, his mouth agape and his eyes wide, wearing an expression as if he had seen a ghost.

The blonde, blue-eyed Charlotte couldn’t help but lower her head and smile. It had been nearly a month since they had left Victor and entered the mysterious and unpredictable Whimsical Forest. Only recently had they managed to gather their scattered allies, though two sword-wielding handmaidens were still missing. Fortunately, the core members had successfully regrouped, including Father Dayne, who was the most vulnerable to attack.

Although her team included Gold-rank powerhouses like Caligula, Father Dayne, and Imosen the Wizard, as well as the Silver-rank Ferocious female warrior Macy and Ghostface Swordsman Tao De, Charlotte still felt the expedition’s strength was insufficient. Mainly, they lacked enough people who could hold their own, and she doubted they could complete the mission to rescue Beldina.

Now that Narsen and his people had found the family’s expedition team, they had two Gold-rank Ferocious warriors, two Gold-rank spellcasters, two Silver-rank Ferocious warriors, three senior knights, one mid-rank Mind Warrior, and one apprentice knight who had ignited his fire of the mind. The pressure on Charlotte’s shoulders lessened considerably.

The person most delighted by the reunion with Narsen’s group was Imosen the Wizard. He ladled out a bowl of mushroom stew, filling it with steaming venison, and eagerly handed it to Narsen. “The Master also said that Bel doesn’t have this kind of ability on her own,” he said with a grin. “But she can reshape the Realm of All Spirits and alter the real-world forest environment. That’s how Bel’s Whimsical Forest came to be.”

“No wonder the plants in this forest look like the ones outside the Randell Fief.” Narsen took a sip of the hot soup. The savory taste of salt made the broth exceptionally delicious. He raised the wooden bowl and downed the soup and meat in one gulp.

Imosen, who had experienced the misery of life without salt—a blandness that made one want to drink blood—refilled Narsen’s bowl and continued, “The Master discovered a salt mine in the rainforest outside. When we came in, he had each of us carry over ten pounds of salt… The Master also said that Bel wished for your safe escape, and that if we met you, My lord, we would be able to find Bel.”

Hearing this, Charlotte immediately interjected, “Your Excellency, please do not misinterpret His Highness’s words. His Highness said that finding Lord Narsen would prove that Beldina is in the Whimsical Forest. He did not say that meeting Lord Narsen would allow us to find Bel.” She softened her tone slightly and said gently, “I understand your concern for Beldina’s safety and your desire to rescue her as soon as possible. However, the environment we are in is fraught with danger. We cannot be careless, and we certainly cannot afford to misjudge the situation.”

“I agree with My Lady Charlotte’s assessment.”

Holding a pinewood torch, Father Dayne strode over, accompanied by Swordsman Tao De. He found a place to sit and casually tossed the torch into the bonfire. “My lord,” he said solemnly to Narsen, “I remember My lord Tournans once said that wishing for something to happen doesn’t mean it will happen through idle fantasy. Whether or not we can rescue Beldina still depends on our own will. If we place our hopes in Bel’s blessings and wishes, I fear things will turn dire, and we might even… lose Beldina entirely.”

As he spoke, Dayne glanced at Imosen. This was, in fact, a warning meant for him.

“That… can’t be, can it?” Imosen was struck with alarm and uncertainty. Amid his turmoil, his eyes began to glow with a red light, brighter and more conspicuous than the blazing campfire.

Narsen noticed the Wizard’s strange state and couldn’t help but turn to glance at Charlotte, as if seeking an explanation.

Father Dayne spoke first. “Bel’s Whimsical Forest is very special. After Imosen and I entered… well, our respective spellcasting abilities have grown to varying degrees. His Highness Randell revealed to me that Beldina can manipulate the power of the Laws within the Realm of All Spirits. That realm originates from a powerful Ancient God and was managed by the Assyrian Empire for tens of thousands of years. Even though the Black Blood Sovereign consumed much of the realm’s ‘power,’ its accumulated reserves are beyond our imagination.”

“His Highness Randell’s initial deduction is that Beldina’s use of the Realm of All Spirits’ power to shape the Whimsical Forest has no effect on life forms at the Legendary rank or above. That’s why neither His Highness Randell nor the Ant-man Empress can enter Bel’s Whimsical Forest. But we, along with some of the beastmen and monsters in the forest, can be drawn in. For instance, the two Ogre Brutes enslaved by His Excellency Imosen came from the Shattered Bone clan in the rainforest, and we’ve also encountered some Goblins and Gnolls.”

Narsen looked up, his gaze passing over Father Dayne to the two Ogre Brutes not far away. Caligula was putting on a show for Brandon and Klaus on how to train Ogres. With a piece of long-nosed wild boar meat in one hand and a wooden stick in the other, he commanded the Ogres to perform actions on his command. If they did it right, they got meat; if they did it wrong, he beat them with the stick until they howled.

However, when Caligula ordered the tall, corpulent Ogres to dance, it didn’t look like any proper training Narsen had ever seen. The Ogres’ clumsy and mistake-riddled, yet comical, dance moves always sent the audience into peals of laughter. The boisterous Aka grew even more smug, making the Ogres spin in circles.

Compared to the low-intelligence Ogres, perhaps Aka can add “clever” to his “brave” prefix in the future, becoming “the brave and clever Aka,” Narsen thought to himself, a smile spreading across his face.

“Lord Legion Commander,” Dayne said, stating Narsen’s title to remind him not to get distracted.

“Oh, I was just wondering if these two Ogres will rebel,” Narsen said, covering up his slight embarrassment. He had actually been tempted to go and tease the Ogre Brutes with Aka and the others.

Imosen was too distraught to answer Narsen’s question. Charlotte glanced at the Wizard and explained, “Ogres are naturally dull-witted, and they fear hunger and death. His Excellency Imosen can not only communicate with them now but can also tell if they are trying to deceive him. Aka and Macy take turns watching them. If they show any malicious intent, we will kill them immediately. Of course, it’s best for others not to get too close. So far, they have been docile and obedient, largely because Aka has beaten them many times.”

Dayne coughed, steering the conversation back to Beldina. “The Assyrian descendants wouldn’t have handed the Realm of All Spirits over to Beldina for no reason. They must be exploiting her talent for Wizardry. I worry they have a way to influence her will, or even sacrifice her to the Pale Sovereign…”

“What should we do? We have to do something!” Imosen grew anxious, his eyes pleadingly looking at everyone present.

Of all the people, Imosen was the happiest to meet Narsen, as if their reunion with Beldina was imminent. But the most zealous was Father Dayne.

Upon entering what was effectively the Realm of All Spirits, he was pleasantly surprised to find that his holy power could regenerate slowly even without drawing from a sacred object crystal, and the crystal itself accumulated holy power twice as fast, taking about five days to reach full capacity. The Endless Forest was far from the human kingdoms, so this was certainly not the domain of the Lord of Radiance. Clergy far from a radiant domain could only rely on Holy Crystals to recover holy power. Dayne wasn’t sure of the exact reason the Whimsical Forest allowed him to restore his holy power, but as a scholar-priest who had received an elite education, he had his own theories.

The Whimsical Forest wasn’t the important part; the Realm of All Spirits was. It had accumulated the souls of the Assyrians and was suffused with the power of souls. This was likely why a clergy member could restore holy power within the Whimsical Forest.

According to the Church’s scriptures, the Realm of All Spirits was akin to a “divine kingdom.” Moreover, with the Black Blood Sovereign having been slain by His Highness Randell, it was a divine kingdom without a master.

The war between the Ant-man Empress and the Assyrian Shaman was, in essence, a competition for control over this “divine kingdom.” And now, the Radiant Church had entered the fray.

The concept of a “divine kingdom” had been proposed by the first Pope Inoc, and after being refined by generations of missionaries, it had been incorporated into theological texts. The clergy openly proclaimed that the sun itself was the divine kingdom of the Lord of Radiance, where the Lord and his twelve Radiant Angels resided. The Radiant Angels were responsible for guiding the souls of the faithful into the divine kingdom to henceforth bask in the Lord’s glory.

According to this doctrine, wherever the sun shone, the clergy of the Church should be able to receive the protection of the Supreme Lord. Yet, that was not the case.

The Church had only two methods of collecting holy power. The first was through churches with established faith arrays, which gathered the power of faith for the Supreme Lord to convert into holy power and channel into a Pool of Holy Power. The second was to utilize the characteristic of White crystals to contain and preserve holy power; priests would hold regular prayer services in small chapels, collecting holy power to create Holy Crystals to serve as a reserve.

Beyond that, the ambient holy power generated by the individual prayers of believers was essentially wasted. At most, a clergy member could use this dissipated holy power to restore their own, and the effect wasn’t even as good as meditating in a church. Only a top-tier God-favored could command this ambient holy power. Father Miller, for example, could freely cast radiant divine arts without authorization from a Pool of Holy Power. Dayne believed that the Holy Crystal in his hand had been infused with holy power by Father Miller from a great distance, allowing it to ignore the restrictions of a radiant domain.

From this perspective, the divine kingdom in the theological texts served only to facilitate the spread of faith and had no practical significance for the application of holy power by the clergy. It was because of these limitations on holy power recovery that the Radiant Church had been slow to lead the human kingdoms in expanding their territory and bringing the fertile Northern Wildlands into the domain of their radiant light.

Since Dayne could naturally restore his holy power in Bel’s Whimsical Forest, the Realm of All Spirits held extraordinary significance for the Radiant Church.

Beldina was the key to contending for the Realm of All Spirits. As for her identity as a Wizard, that was trivial. Dayne was already associating with Ogres; why would he care about Bel’s status as a Wizard? He had just used his divine arts to heal the old savage and the Assyrian Warrior, and the radiant divine arts had worked on the Assyrians, proving that the descendants of the Assyrian Empire were not “evil.” They were like the Elves, Dwarves, barbarians, and Halflings—races that could be tolerated by the Radiant Church.

Dayne had no desire to tolerate the inherently cruel Assyrians; he had merely confirmed the “legitimacy” of the Realm of All Spirits, ensuring it did not conflict with the rules of the Radiant Code.

As for the matter of the Realm of All Spirits requiring Blood Sacrifices from the Assyrians, the Attendant of Radiance, Miller, would surely have a solution. Otherwise, he would not have arranged for his assistant priest to join His Highness Randell’s expeditionary force.

At least, that was what Dayne thought.

Considering the level of life of the Black Blood Sovereign, Dayne was a little worried that Father Miller’s Great Divination would have a limited effect on the Realm of All Spirits. Whether he could seize the realm for the Radiant Church would depend on the strength of the House of Randell.

Dayne wasn’t afraid of His Highness Randell coveting the Realm of All Spirits. This thing was useless to Victor and to a lord’s family. The precious pasture on which cattle and sheep depend is of no interest to lions, tigers, and wolves. Although the fates of predators and herbivores are intertwined, no one has ever heard of a predator protecting a pasture for the sake of its prey.

By the same token, getting the House of Randell to put forth their best effort and fight for the Church’s core interests at any cost would be exceedingly difficult.

Those who had entered the Whimsical Forest were the trusted confidants His Highness Randell had painstakingly cultivated. Caligula had a special relationship with the Church but was still a member of the House of Randell. The Randell family would likely be unwilling to see any of them sacrifice their lives for the Church’s cause.

Dayne couldn’t help but inwardly complain, wondering why My lord Miller hadn’t summoned the Church’s elite for this expedition. The Realm of All Spirits, cultivated by the Assyrian Empire, was so precious that the different factions within the Church would surely have reached a consensus to dispatch their strongest contingent of clergy to retrieve Beldina and seize the realm.

Of course, if that had happened, he would have had no part to play in it. It was just a fleeting thought. It was not his place to question the decisions of an Attendant of Radiance.

In any case, Lord Narsen, with his mercenary background, would certainly be easier to deal with than My Lady Charlotte. Dayne said to him, “His Highness Randell cannot enter, so he has entrusted us with rescuing Beldina. This is the key to countering the Ant-man Empress. However, I believe the Assyrian Shaman can twist Bel’s will. We cannot wait for guidance from a ‘water sprite’ or a ‘Flower Fey.’ I’m afraid we don’t have that kind of time.”

“Right, right, right, we have to rescue Bel quickly,” Imosen chimed in repeatedly.

Narsen stroked his chin and said in a low voice, “Since it’s My lord Victor’s command, we must do our utmost to complete the mission of rescuing Beldina. Imosen, what forces do you have at your command right now?”

Imosen answered swiftly, “One aberrant giant bear, two Ogre Brutes, and two hundred eighty-six aberrant cat-apes. If necessary, I can continue to cultivate aberrant war beasts and enslave intelligent beastmen species.”

Narsen nodded, then shook his head. “The forces Imosen has on hand are equivalent to an elite Ranger unit, but we don’t know the strength of the Assyrian descendants. We also need to find out Bel’s location… Your Excellency Dayne, how are the two Assyrian captives?”

Dayne was secretly pleased but maintained a calm expression. “I have already treated them. They are ready for interrogation now.”

“It’s too late today. Narsen and his men have been trekking through the rainforest for months. They look like savages.”

Charlotte suddenly stood up and said with a beaming smile, “My lord, Lisa and the others brought some flax cloth and can make you all some summer clothes. Get a good night’s rest. We can discuss everything else tomorrow.”

Lisa was the sword-wielding handmaiden His Highness Randell had given to Narsen, and they hadn’t seen each other in months. Young men like Rogers and Red Wolf were already inseparable from their favored attendants, but Narsen wasn’t particularly concerned with a favored attendant’s gentle services. However, the sword-wielding handmaidens themselves had the responsibility of being secret liaisons. At Charlotte’s mention of Lisa, Narsen’s heart stirred. He too stood up and smiled. “I could use a bath and a change of clothes. I’ll go rest first, then. We can discuss rescuing Bel tomorrow. Imosen, don’t be anxious. Bel has very good luck. We will definitely be able to rescue her.”

The Wizard saw that Narsen was barefoot, his Thorium Inner armor still caked with mud, looking somewhat disheveled. He could only nod helplessly.

Dayne sighed inwardly. Narsen was His Highness Randell’s number one confidant and served as the Legion Commander of the Earldom. His power and prestige were greater than Charlotte’s, giving him command of the rescue operation. However, as the Gold-Eyed Earl’s partner-knight, Charlotte’s status within the family was higher than Narsen’s.

On this expedition, the House of Randell’s hidden elite forces had suffered heavy losses, especially with the sacrifice of the Dragonkin handmaiden Laila. Charlotte’s tactical style would likely become more conservative.

Dayne could imagine her advising Narsen through the sword-wielding handmaiden to preserve the family’s core members and not to adopt riskier methods to find Beldina.

Though feeling a bit dejected, Dayne could only accept reality and do his best to provide support as a priest. After all, he didn’t have a squad of high-ranking Sacred Warriors at his side.

Chapter 849: Interrogation

Night fell, the chirping of insects dotting the forest’s silence. The members of the expedition team had already crawled into their little shacks. Over two hundred aberrant cat-apes were scattered in an area of roughly six hundred square kilometers around the camp. With these agile beasts on watch, everyone could rest easy.

The temporary camp was rather crude. Aside from the shacks built from tree branches, there wasn’t even a single decent log cabin. In truth, the expedition team had just moved from another location. Their purpose here was the same as Narsen’s: to capture Assyrian prisoners and interrogate them for information.

Therefore, their meeting in the Fantastical Forest was a chance encounter born from a shared objective.

During his search for the missing expedition members, Imosen had detected the movements of the Assyrian Slaver Party. Father Dayn immediately suggested capturing Assyrian prisoners to interrogate them for information. His proposal received the Wizard’s strong support—or rather, Dayn had catered to Imosen’s desperate desire to rescue Beldina.

With the two Gold-rank spellcasters in agreement, the Randall expedition team stealthily moved near the Slaver Party’s stronghold. Although Lady Charlotte was unwilling to expose the Randall expedition team prematurely, her role was merely to use the Ogre Brutes to conceal the surprise attack, hoping to confuse the Assyrians.

The plan to capture Assyrian prisoners and interrogate them was, of course, the right course of action. Narsen, with only four subordinates, still had to risk capturing them. The question was, who would be the leader of this rescue operation? The priest from the Church, or a core member of the House of Randell?

Imosen the Wizard controlled the expedition team’s main fighting force. His Aberrant Beasts and Ogre servants were equivalent to an elite unit, and he had no need to worry about losses. His opinion, therefore, carried significant weight. However, he was desperate to save his daughter and lacked a strategic mind. Not only was he incapable of rescuing Beldina on his own, but he also struggled to think from the perspective of the House of Randell.

Father Dayn exploited Imosen’s weakness to gain control of the expedition. Charlotte, a Bronze-rank experienced female knight, clearly lacked the influence to compete with a Gold-rank priest now that she was away from His Highness Randell.

The arrival of Narsen and his men immediately reversed Lady Charlotte’s disadvantaged position. A battle-hardened Bear of the Northlands, the Gold-Eyed Earl’s trusted Vassal, Legion Commander of the Randell Earldom, and a Gold-rank Ferocious warrior—these titles allowed Narsen to naturally assume command of the expedition team.

Moreover, Lord Narsen knew to value the opinion of the family’s lady. Even though Charlotte did not hold the esteemed title of My Lady Randall, in his eyes, her words carried more weight than those of Young Lady Gillian Chapman, Duchess Catherine Olavie, or Countess Andria Wimbledon.

Charlotte had a gentle nature, but she was resolute in protecting Victor’s interests. She did not believe her own talents surpassed those of the mercenary-born Narsen, so she said little, merely having a sword-wielding handmaiden relay a message to Narsen: when carrying out the rescue mission, he should do his best to consider the safety of the family’s core members.

Early the next morning, Narsen reassigned the tasks for each member of the Randall expedition team, dividing them into two groups. The forward party was responsible for reconnaissance, infiltration, espionage, and assault. Its members included Narsen himself, Red Wolf, Klaus, Tao De, and six sword-wielding handmaidens—ten people in total, plus two Ogre Brutes. The rear party was responsible for logistics, intelligence analysis, cover, and support. Its members were Father Dayn, Imosen the Wizard, Caligula, Charlotte, Brandon, Macy, Rogers, and six sword-wielding handmaidens—thirteen people in total. Within the rear party, Caligula was assigned to protect Imosen, while Brandon was to protect Dayne. These two spellcasters were the core of the team, as they could not only continuously replenish the aberrant war beasts but also enhance the team’s combat strength and survivability.

No one objected to Narsen’s arrangement, but rescuing Beldina still had to begin with gathering intelligence. Once everyone had confirmed their duties, they went together to interrogate the two Assyrian prisoners.

The old savage’s hands and feet were bound tightly. After treatment from the priest, the swelling on his face had subsided. A piece of animal hide was stuffed in his mouth. His face was now gaunt, his dull eyes devoid of any spirit, as if he had lost the will to live.

Seeing the old savage’s listless state, Narsen figured they wouldn’t get anything out of him. Besides, a savage wouldn’t know much. The Assyrian Warrior was the main target for interrogation. Narsen shook his head and turned his gaze to the leader of the Slaver Party, who was lying flat on the ground.

He was lean and wiry, his skin a glossy, brownish-tan. The white ash that once covered his skin had been washed away, revealing fiery tattoos. A circle of his black hair had been shaved, leaving only a patch on top tied into a short braid. His pupils, only a third the size of a normal person’s, were yellowish-brown, resembling the eyes of a venomous snake. He stared at Narsen fiercely, his gaze full of defiance, as if he was indignant at being defeated in a single move.

This Assyrian Warrior possessed extraordinary abilities, having torn through an Ogre’s Brute Hide Art with his bare hands. But Narsen had dislocated his cervical vertebrae, and he was now completely paralyzed, unable to exert any strength.

Brandon ignored the Assyrian Warrior’s ferocious expression, chuckled, and said, “I’m certain Beldina is with the Assyrian descendants.” Then, he pointed a finger at the tattoo on the Assyrian Warrior’s chest and explained his deduction to the others. “When I was a child, Bel and I studied painting together at Silver Moon Manor. Look at this tiger tattoo—big head, big eyes, so foolishly cute. That’s Bel’s style. I could never mistake it.”

Klaus laughed as well and nodded. “That is indeed Bel’s drawing style.”

Brandon, Klaus, and Beldina had lived and studied together at Silver Moon Manor. They had grown into adults, but Bel still looked like a young lady. Imosen, her own father, was surprisingly unfamiliar with his daughter’s studies. He was both shocked and delighted. He roared at the Assyrian Warrior, “Speak! Where is Beldina? If you dare hide anything, I’ll have the Ogres eat you!”

The Assyrian Warrior was visibly stunned. Though he couldn’t understand his enemies’ language, he grasped the meaning of the sentence. To him, Imosen the Wizard’s threat was an insult. The Assyrian Warrior strained to lift his neck and spewed a stream of aboriginal words that no one could understand. judging by his savage expression, however, he certainly wasn’t saying anything pleasant.

Translating the Assyrian Warrior’s native tongue was a bit complicated. Imosen fell silent for a moment before summarizing simply, “This native is cursing me.”

Narsen’s lips curled into a cold, grim smile. “Let him have a taste of pain.”

“Leave him to me.” Ghostface Swordsman Tao De stepped forward, volunteering to handle the interrogation of the Assyrian prisoner. He bowed slightly to Narsen and said, “Lord Narsen, I’ll ask you to step in and reset the prisoner’s vertebrae.”

“Uh, Tao De, I must remind you, the Assyrians aren’t afraid of death. If I reset his vertebrae, he’ll definitely resist with all his might.” Narsen sized up Tao De, all but saying the words, “Can you handle it?”

“It doesn’t matter if he’s not afraid of death. I’ll make him beg for it,” Tao De said flatly. He took a wad of deerskin and stuffed it into the Assyrian Warrior’s mouth, then knelt and whispered in his ear, “This will keep you from biting yourself. Just ‘mmph, mmph’ will do. His Excellency Imosen will understand you anyway.”

“My lord Narsen, Esteemed Master Dayne, I’d like to cut off his hands and feet. Do I have your permission?” Tao De asked, standing up and turning his head.

Narsen and Dayne glanced at each other, then nodded in agreement with Tao De’s request.

A series of flashes from the sword, and the Assyrian Warrior’s hands and feet were severed. Blood gushed from the stumps, staining the ground red. The Assyrian’s head snapped back, veins bulging on his temples. If his mouth hadn’t been stuffed with furry deerskin, he would have let out a bloodcurdling scream.

The Ghostface Swordsman chopped off the prisoner’s limbs as if he were chopping firewood. His indifferent expression sent a chill down even Narsen’s spine. Father Dayn wasted no time, using his divine arts to stanch the bleeding and reduce the pain for the limbless Assyrian Warrior.

“He’s all yours.” Narsen stepped forward and patted Tao De on the shoulder. He lifted the Assyrian Warrior from the ground, gave a casual shake, and with two sharp cracks, the dislocated vertebrae snapped back into place. At the same moment, however, the joints of his lumbar spine were dislocated. A faint tiger silhouette had just appeared on the Assyrian Warrior’s body, but before it could even roar, it dissipated due to the new spinal injury.

Tao De held his longsword in a reverse grip and bowed to Charlotte. “My Lady,” he said tactfully, “what comes next will likely not be pleasant.”

Charlotte disliked cruel and bloody interrogations, and she understood Tao De’s feelings even more. The Ghostface Swordsman was of humble birth and had always striven to integrate into the knight class. He did not actually want his comrades in the family to see his cruel side, yet this was precisely one of the reasons Victor had chosen him. According to Victor, Tao De was not cruel by nature, but unfortunately, limited by his Bloodline talent, he found it difficult to escape his role of handling the dirty work. But as long as he was willing to work hard, Victor would give him a chance to overcome his fate.

“Let’s go.” Charlotte turned and left without hesitation. Although Brandon and Klaus were curious, they still followed Lady Charlotte away from the scene. Blood Python Macy hesitated for a moment before leaving as well. In the end, only a few Ferocious Warriors, along with Father Dayn and Imosen the Wizard, remained to watch Tao De interrogate the prisoner.

Tao De raised his Adamantine longsword, its tip resting on the tattoo on the Assyrian Warrior’s chest. He twisted his wrist and said, “Is this your Source of Power? Don’t worry, I’m not going to pierce your chest. I’m just going to peel this tattoo off. It’ll hurt a bit. Just bear with it…”

A moment later, Rogers dragged his favored attendant away from the interrogation scene, his face visibly pale. Not long after, Red Wolf stormed out with his sword-wielding handmaiden, cursing as he ducked into his shack. A quarter of an hour later, Caligula—hailed by the pig butchers of Randell Earldom as the “Number One Butcher of Laketon”—also ran out. He shoved his fist into his mouth and ran, teary-eyed, to complain to Lady Charlotte.

The interrogation continued until the afternoon. As Narsen walked out with an arm slung over Tao De’s shoulder, he chattered, “You’ve really got some skills. Compared to you, my interrogations are like a child’s game… The most satisfying part of today was finishing that guy off… Esteemed Master Dayne, Your Excellency Imosen, you’re much better than those three cowards. We have you to thank for digging up so much intelligence this time.”

Dayne walked with a light step, his expression serene. “Tao De’s interrogation skills are still a bit inferior to those of the religious inquisition,” he said calmly.

“As long as we can save Beldina, I don’t care… I don’t care at all!” Imosen said, wiping the corner of his mouth and gnashing his teeth.

The members of the expedition team were, after all, not ordinary people. Tao De’s brutal interrogation of the Assyrian Warrior didn’t affect their appetites. Caligula, at least, ate even more than usual at dinner, even finishing Tao De’s portion.

After dinner, they gathered around the campfire to discuss the intelligence provided by the Assyrian prisoner. With Father Dayn’s Detect Lie divine art, his confession was credible, but not necessarily true or complete, as the Assyrian Warrior himself didn’t know much.

“We can now confirm that the settlement of the Assyrian Empire’s descendants is located six hundred kilometers downstream. They have a jungle city and forty-one settlements, with populations ranging from several thousand to twenty thousand each. A preliminary estimate puts the Assyrian population at two hundred thousand—at least, not less.” Tao De paused before adding, “That prisoner was a slave by birth and held a low status, but after analyzing the intelligence, we believe Beldina may be inside the golden pyramid altar in the jungle city.”

“Assyrian society is composed of Shamans, Warriors, Commoners, and slaves. The Assyrian Shamans are currently divided into Nature Spirit Shamans, Animal Spirit Shamans, and the most mainstream, Ancestral Spirit Shamans. Their spellcasting abilities differ, and the prisoner didn’t understand the extraordinary methods of the Shamans. However, he himself was a Beast Spirit Warrior trained by an Animal Spirit Shaman… He personally killed a tiger, and the Assyrian Shaman infused the tiger’s soul into his body, making it his companion spirit. It helped him in battle, increased his strength and agility, and even gave him some of the tiger’s abilities.”

“There are many types of Beast Spirit Warriors, their abilities tied to their respective companion spirits. The most common are Bear, Tiger, Eagle, and Snake Spirits. However, the foundational strength of the Assyrian settlements is still their Assyrian Warriors and Assyrian slave soldiers. The most common way the Assyrians distinguish between a Warrior and a slave soldier is by the scales on their bodies. Those with more scales are generally Assyrian Warriors of purer bloodline. Those with fewer scales are Assyrian Warriors who have gradually transformed over several generations of slavery. Those with no scales are the weakest and have the lowest status, being slaves.”

Narsen interjected, “Last time, most of the slavers that His Excellency Imosen’s Aberrant Beasts killed were scaleless or had few scales—they were slave soldiers. Their combat strength is greater than our militia but inferior to mercenary soldiers. The scaled Assyrians are stronger and more agile, and they can also use toxins in their bodies to stimulate their inner potential for a temporary burst of power. I estimate that the combat strength of a scaled Assyrian surpasses that of an ordinary Elite Soldier, and they also have Beast Spirit Warriors and Assyrian Shamans.” He let out a breath and shook his head. “The Assyrians worship Ancestral Spirits, and their warriors face death as if it were a homecoming. Two hundred thousand Assyrian descendants are too much for us to handle. A direct confrontation to rescue Beldina is out of the question.”

Charlotte nodded and asked softly, “Does anyone have a good idea?”

Imosen’s voice was a bit shrill as he said, “Give me time to create Aberrant Beasts and enslave beastmen monsters, and I can force the Assyrian Shamans to negotiate with us.”

Father Dayn shook his head. “Time is what we lack. Besides, breeding powerful Aberrant Beasts creates a huge commotion. The descendants of the Assyrian Empire won’t just sit by and watch you build up your forces.” He then smiled. “That old savage became very excited after watching Tao De interrogate the Assyrian Warrior from the Slaver Party. He proactively offered to make a deal with us: he’ll trade the secret of a Spring of Spirit Essence in exchange for our help in rescuing his two sons from the Slaver Party’s clutches.”

“Spirit Essence Water? What is that?” Charlotte asked pensively.

Narsen chuckled. “The old savage mistakenly thinks we’re also Assyrian savages—savages who have degenerated to the point of being scaleless. According to him, the Spirit Essence Water can help Assyrian savages grow scales, heal wounds, regenerate limbs, and restore sight to the blind… See? It was only after seeing that Rogers and Red Wolf were disabled that the old savage tried to tempt us with the Spirit Essence Water to rescue his sons.”

Rogers stood up and stammered, “S-Spirit… Spirit Essence Water, can… can it make me grow a new arm?”

Dayne glanced at him and said flatly, “It’s a pity I don’t have a Regeneration Potion on hand. Otherwise, I could restore your bodies to their whole state as well.”

“The old savage himself only has one arm. He must be a liar. Rogers, my friend, don’t fall for his trick,” Red Wolf reminded him with a grin. He now had a unique way of perceiving things and wasn’t in a hurry to get his eyes healed.

But Dayne shook his head. “He wasn’t lying. The Spirit Essence Water is a legend among the savage tribes. Whether it truly exists is still uncertain. Moreover, it might not be effective on humans, or it could even be harmful. It’s hard to say.”

Brandon’s eyes lit up, and he interjected, “The key point isn’t the ‘Spirit Essence Water,’ it’s the shared identity.”

Dayne nodded with a smile. “Exactly. We can use the old savage’s misunderstanding to incite and organize the Assyrian savages to rebel against the Slaver Party, attack their settlements, and create chaos. Then, under the cover of the confusion, we can sneak into the temple and rescue Beldina.”

Klaus pondered for a moment, then also nodded. “This is actually an overt scheme. Even if the old savage knew we weren’t Assyrians, he wouldn’t expose us, because he and the other oppressed savage tribes need to fight back!”

Charlotte’s jade-green eyes turned to Narsen, and she nodded lightly. Narsen said in a low voice, “If we organize the savage tribes to fight the Assyrian settlements, we first have to take down the nearby Slaver Party stronghold and rescue the savage slaves inside. In doing so, we risk exposing our tracks. The Assyrian Shamans will definitely send elites to investigate.”

Two flame-like red lights ignited in Imosen’s eyes. He slapped his chest and said, “Leave it to me! Leave it to me! I’ll go capture some Goblins and Gnolls and have Meatball and Ribs lead them to attack the Slaver Party stronghold, disguised as beastmen predators.”

Charlotte’s lips curled into a serene smile. “That’s not a disguise. That is clearly an attack by beastmen bandits.”

Chapter 850: Fountain of Youth

At dusk, ten days later, the Assyrian Warrior Xyudar was herding six lines of savage captives across a river, heading toward the slaver party’s camp. He hadn’t gone far when he saw the slavers’ Great Chieftain, Xinu, jogging toward him with his private soldiers.

“Great Chieftain, what’s happened?” Xyudar halted the procession and ran over to ask.

Xinu had a resolute face, and two deep furrows running from his nose to his mouth gave his expression a severe, cruel air. He was tall and powerfully built, half a head taller than the average Assyrian Warrior. A ring of beast fangs decorated his face, and his bronzed skin looked as if it were cast from copper and iron. A Bear Spirit tattoo adorned his chest, while a python was inked across his back—he was, impressively, a warrior with two companion spirits. Xyudar, also a Beast Spirit Warrior, was clearly weaker in his presence.

“Fanu has gone to the Land of Ancestral Spirits,” the Great Chieftain said, his face devoid of expression.

“What?! Fanu, how could he…”

Fanu had once been a slave soldier captain in Xinu’s household. By some stroke of dumb luck, he had managed to hunt down a tiger by himself and was elevated to a Beast Spirit Warrior by a Shaman. Although Fanu came from a slave soldier background, his companion spirit was a tiger, and in terms of combat strength, he had been superior to the Snake Spirit Warrior Xyudar.

Xyudar had always resented Fanu for his slave origins. He lowered his head to hide his schadenfreude and said in a solemn voice, “May the Ancestral Spirits watch over Fanu.”

“There are Behemoths in the area. Ten days ago, they attacked Fanu’s team with a pack of beasts. By the time I arrived with my men, Fanu and over twenty slave soldiers were gone.”

“Behemoths? Behemoths with beasts?” Xyudar jumped, his pupils shrinking to pinpricks as he scanned the surrounding forest warily.

Behemoths were extremely dangerous monsters; if Xyudar encountered one alone, he would be hard-pressed to survive. Fortunately, Behemoths were few in number. If Fanu had run into a wandering Behemoth, it would just mean his luck was abysmal. However, Behemoths that hunted with beasts were a different matter entirely. Wandering Behemoths would only eat beasts; they didn’t know how to tame them. But the Hobgoblins within Behemoth tribes did. A combination of Behemoths and beasts meant that a Behemoth or Goblin tribe was nearby.

For a slaver party to stumble into beastmen territory wasn’t just dangerous; it was a catastrophe.

However, the location of the slaver camp had been carefully chosen by everyone. There were clearly no beastmen tribes in the vicinity; otherwise, the Great Chieftain would never have allowed the party to make camp here. Things had been quiet around the camp until recently. Why was there suddenly beastman activity?

“Ruke, come here.” Great Chieftain Xinu beckoned to a young Assyrian Warrior standing behind Xyudar.

The young Assyrian Warrior shuffled over sideways, somewhat reluctantly. Xinu gripped his shoulder, turned him so he could see his swollen left eye, and asked gently, “Son, did a savage hit you in the eye?”

Xyudar caught on and offered some sycophantic praise. “Ruke is as brave as a wild boar and as fierce as a leopard! He killed two savages with his own hands and captured fourteen who will fetch a good price. This was his first slave-raiding expedition, and he’s already far more capable than we were at his age.”

Xinu drew his bone-bladed dagger and lanced the swelling next to his son’s eye socket, letting the bruised blood flow out. Ruke’s left eye, swollen to a slit, gradually opened.

“Ruke, you need to be more careful to protect yourself in the next fight. But don’t worry about this time. I’m taking you back right away to have a Shaman give you a Snake Spirit. Once you become a Snake Spirit Warrior, ordinary wounds will heal on their own.”

“Father, is that true?” the young Assyrian Warrior exclaimed happily.

“Yes. We have plenty of money.”

“I want to become a powerful Bear Spirit Warrior like you, Father…”

“Once you’re a Snake Spirit Warrior, I’ll permit you to hunt a great bear for yourself to serve as your next companion spirit,” Xinu said, clapping his son on the back with a smile. “Now, let’s go.”

The Beast Spirit Warrior Xyudar was stunned for a moment. Seeing Xinu leading his son and private soldiers away, he hurried after them. “Great Chieftain, you’re leaving now? What about me? What about the savage captives in the camp?”

Xinu stopped and looked back. “Xyudar, the forest is constantly changing; it’s not the rainforest we knew. In the last two days, many slave soldiers in the camp have been bitten by spiders I don’t recognize. On top of that, Behemoths and beasts are hunting together. I’ve decided to leave. I’ve already sold my savage captives to the camp’s Shaman. You can sell yours to Shaman Ban, then catch up with me. We’ll go back together.”

Xyudar reached out to block Xinu and his son, saying resentfully, “Ban is Great Shaman Tumen’s grandson. He’s as greedy as a jackal! We won’t get a good price selling the captives to him… Great Chieftain, my grandfather followed your grandfather on slave raids, my father followed your father, and now I follow you. In the future, my son will follow your son. You can’t just abandon us like this.”

Xinu silently removed the beast-fang decoration from his face, handed it and his two iron blades to a private soldier, and drew his bone dagger. His gaze fell upon Xyudar, chilling as a winter frost. “You think you can challenge me? You think you can make decisions for me? Then let’s have a bloody contest, under the watch of the Ancestral Spirits!”

A faint bear’s roar and a snake’s hiss emanated from behind the Great Chieftain. He was not joking.

Xyudar swallowed hard, lowered his head, and stepped aside.

Xinu snorted, gave Xyudar a shove, and said, “You’d best not stay here. Either abandon the savage captives and leave with me, or go back to the camp. Ban is a Nature Spirit Shaman. He’s planted Poison Burst Fruits around the camp, and the others are willing to stay and work with him. As long as you give Ban thirty percent of your captives, he’ll protect you.”

Xyudar understood at once. Shaman Ban had supplanted Xinu. From now on, the other warrior families would rely on Shaman Ban for their slaving business. The once-prominent House of Xinu had fallen into decline, all because Great King Mokemo had been turned into an Undead Troll by the Queen. The Assyrian Warriors who had sworn fealty to Great King Mokemo were all being suppressed by the Shamans, and not even the House of Xinu, which specialized in slaving, was spared.

While the slaver parties organized by the House of Xinu had never skimped on the other families’ share of captives, Shaman Ban, relying on his status as Great Shaman Tumen’s grandson, was demanding a thirty percent cut. Even so, Xyudar had no intention of abandoning his family’s slaving business.

Xinu saw Xyudar’s intention in his shameful expression and said no more. He led his son and private soldiers downstream along the river. Several men from Xyudar’s own slaver team followed them; they were also private soldiers of the House of Xinu, specifically tasked with protecting Xinu’s son while also helping Xyudar capture slaves.

And with that, the houses of Xinu and Xyudar, who had trusted one another enough to entrust their sons’ training to each other, went their separate ways.

Having sold all their captured savages to the greedy Shaman for a pittance, the House of Xinu had lost a great deal of money. But unburdened by captives, Xinu led his men at a jog, rapidly distancing themselves from the slaver party’s camp.

As evening fell, the light began to fade, and vast shadows enveloped the forest. In the distance, Xinu saw a hazy figure standing on the riverbank, blocking their path.

The man wore a type of hide armor the Assyrian Warriors had never seen before, and he strode toward Xinu’s group wielding two greatswords that gleamed with a purple light. Though called swords, their blades were wider than an Assyrian’s palm, double-edged, perfectly straight, and a full 1.6 meters long—the strangest weapons Xinu had ever seen.

“It would have been so much better if you’d just stayed put in the camp. You just had to run, forcing me to come and block you all by myself… Well, since we’ve met, I’ll just have to slaughter you and feed you to the aberrant cat-apes.” Narsen’s will to fight was boiling over. He hefted his two Adamantine beheading swords, which had been reinforced with Thorium, and charged alone toward the forty-odd fierce Assyrian slavers.

Xinu’s private soldiers couldn’t understand the Common Tongue, but Narsen’s killing intent was a palpable thing, sharp as a blade, stinging their eyes. Yet these Assyrian warriors were cruel by nature, exceptionally valiant, and without fear of death. They flicked their tongues, revealing hollow Fangs, and let out strange cries from their throats as they raised their assorted weapons and charged the enemy together.

The war cries of his allies sent blood rushing to Ruke’s head. He drew his iron blade and was about to charge forward himself, but his father, Xinu, grabbed him, dragged him into the nearby trees, and fled deeper into the forest.

Xinu was an Assyrian Warrior who could enter a Savage state. But Assyrians in their Savage state specialized in combat and lacked the ability to foresee danger. This was related to their cold-blooded, cruel Nature and their faith in the Ancestral Spirits. To an Assyrian warrior, death meant rebirth in the Land of Ancestral Spirits, and so it was not something to be feared.

However, as a warrior with both Snake and Bear companion spirits, Xinu used the special ability granted by his Snake Spirit to perceive countless Vengeful spirits clinging to his enemy.

Narsen was a veteran of a hundred battles and had slain countless foes. The souls of those who had died by his hand included humans, beasts, monsters, and even Black Blood Demons. A few months ago, during the battle at Asoerta Temple, he had cut down hundreds of Black Blood Demons, including numerous high-ranking Gold and Silver rank demons. And those temple demons were, in fact, Assyrians who had been corrupted by the Black Blood Sovereign and transformed into Black Blood Demons.

Ordinary intelligent races couldn’t detect the killing aura emanating from Narsen, and it had no effect on Narsen himself. But primitive, chaotic animals could often sense when their own kind had been killed by a natural enemy, and would instinctively avoid that predator rather than foolishly run to their deaths. This was actually a warning from the species’ pan-consciousness, which, to a beast’s Perception, manifested as an image of “Vengeful spirits” or a “killing aura.” For example, when a butcher from Laketon entered a pigsty, even the fiercest wild boar wouldn’t dare to breathe too loudly.

The stories of the Realm of All Spirits and the Land of Ancestral Spirits were passed down orally among the Assyrian descendants, but most Assyrians had never seen either with their own eyes. Ancestral warriors who could be reborn after death were a legend from over fifteen hundred years ago; they were long gone. Beast Spirit Warriors, however, were a new phenomenon. The first generation of Beast Spirit Warriors among the Assyrian descendants were still exploring their abilities. The unique perception granted by their animal spirits had caused them considerable confusion, even challenging their understanding of the world and their faith.

Using his Snake Spirit’s sight, Xinu saw the “Assyrian Vengeful spirits” clinging to his enemy and concluded that Narsen was a soul-devouring fiend who fed on the souls of Assyrians.

Assyrian warriors faced death as if it were a homecoming, but it was a different matter entirely if their souls could not journey to the Realm of All Spirits to be reborn.

The ever-changing forest, the sudden appearance of a beastman tribe—these anomalies had already clouded Xinu’s judgment. The appearance of an unbeatable “soul-devouring fiend” completely crushed the Great Chieftain’s will to fight. He seized the opportunity while his private soldiers were bogging down the “fiend” to flee with his son.

A month later, at the golden pyramid altar built by the descendants of the Assyrian Empire.

Harenadak—her face pure and innocent, her figure enchanting—leaned on her snake staff as she entered the Main Chamber of the pyramid, which was filled with blooming flowers. She let mischievous Flower Fey land and play on her feathered crown, then spoke to Great Shaman Tumen, the guardian of Queen Beldina. “I bring one piece of bad news and one piece of good news. The bad news concerns you. The good news concerns us.”

The Man-eating flower vines parted automatically. The old, withered Shaman Tumen stood up, raised his glowing green eyes to look at the Chief Priestess, and asked in a hoarse voice, “What is the bad news?”

Harenadak said lightly, “Your grandson, the Nature Spirit Shaman Ban, was abducted by savages a month ago.”

Tumen was silent for a moment before saying with a dismal expression, “So, they finally made a move against my grandson?”

“Don’t misunderstand. It was just a stroke of bad luck. No one plotted against Ban.” The Chief Priestess shook her head and sighed. “The battle between The Undying One and the Pale Sovereign is fierce. She has deployed tens of thousands of worker ants to intercept the Pale Sovereign’s Slime Behemoths. To sustain the Pale Sovereign, the Blood Sacrifice rituals have been nonstop. All the Ancestral Spirit Shamans are presiding over Blood Sacrifices to create Slime Behemoths to support the Pale Sovereign’s war. They have no time to plot against you or your kin and disciples.”

Tumen sneered. “Savages were able to abduct Ban? His spirit should have gone to the Realm of All Spirits, shouldn’t it?”

“You don’t even trust me? Why don’t you go to the Realm of All Spirits and see for yourself?” Harenadak said, displeased.

“Queen Bel is tearing apart and remaking the Realm of All Spirits. Which Shaman’s spirit would dare enter the Realm of All Spirits right now and risk being used as fertilizer by the Queen?” Tumen shook his head, then added, “Harenadak, tell me honestly, is Ban dead or not?”

“I’m not sure either. The Great Chieftain of the House of Xinu’s slaver party escaped alone to bring back news. He said a savage Shaman who controls spirit spiders used some unknown method to command a horde of Behemoths, Gnolls, and Greenskins to attack the slaver camp. They captured all the Blue-Scale clansmen alive, including Shaman Ban, as well as Xinu and his son, Ruke. The savages took them into the rainforest, and Xinu seized an opportunity to escape. He is willing to offer all his wealth, and even himself, to ask a Shaman to rescue his son or to take revenge on the savages.”

Tumen mused, “The House of Xinu has been slaving for generations and is very wealthy. Is there truly no Ancestral Spirit Shaman willing to help him achieve his blood vengeance? Why have you come to me? Those Ancestral Spirit Shamans outside would love nothing more than to send me to the Realm of All Spirits to serve as fertilizer for the Queen’s remodeling. I don’t dare leave this place lightly.”

Harenadak smiled faintly. “You already know the bad news. The good news is that Xinu overheard the savage Shaman’s plans. It seems they’ve found Spirit Essence Water and are preparing to use the Blue-Scale clansmen as sacrificial offerings to summon it… This good news, I have told no one. I have come only to discuss it with you.”

Tumen was visibly moved. Spirit Essence Water was also called the Fountain of Youth, and it was, in fact, a special phenomenon created when the power of the Realm of All Spirits overflowed. When an Assyrian drank from it, not only could they restore their youth and extend their lifespan, but they could also enhance their innate talents. It was said that every Wizard King in the history of the Assyrian Empire had been a Shaman who had partaken of the Fountain of Youth.

Influenced by Beldina’s spiritual charm, Tumen had walked the pure path of a Nature Spirit to please her. He was now the most powerful Nature Spirit Shaman in the Assyrian Empire, but unlike the Ancestral Spirit Shamans, he could not draw on the soul power within the Realm of All Spirits to restore his youthful appearance. If he could drink from the Fountain of Youth, what did the death of one Shaman grandson matter?

It wasn’t just Tumen who was tempted by the Fountain of Youth; even an Ancestral Spirit Shaman wouldn’t pass up such a precious opportunity. Unfortunately, the Fountain of Youth originated from an overflow of power from the Realm of All Spirits. It appeared randomly somewhere in the forest and vanished just as randomly. Whether one could enjoy its benefits was purely a matter of luck.

Normally, the Realm of All Spirits would only overflow and form a Fountain of Youth when it was filled to the brim with soul power. But Queen Bel was currently remaking the Realm of All Spirits. Her act of tearing it asunder could, in theory, cause a Fountain of Youth to appear.

With Harenadak’s mention of the Fountain of Youth, Tumen was more than half-convinced. He asked, “Is Xinu with you?”

The Shamaness nodded. “I can’t get away right now. You are proficient in Nature Spirit magic, so finding those savages won’t be difficult. I will give you another one hundred private soldiers, including one Animal Spirit Shaman and twenty Beast Spirit Warriors. I’ll cover half the expenses for the search of the Fountain of Youth, but you must make a blood oath in the name of the Pale Sovereign that if you obtain the Fountain, you will give half to me.”

Tumen thought for a moment. “I cannot guarantee that there truly is a Fountain of Youth.”

Harenadak’s lips curved into a smile. “My people will be watching you.”

“Fine. But I can only make a blood oath to Queen Beldina… If I find the Fountain of Youth this time, I will give half of its water to Harenadak. If I break this oath, may the Queen’s wrath fall upon me.” Tumen grabbed a thorny vine and sliced open his palm, letting his blood drip onto the Man-eating flower. A beautiful and lovely Flower Fey suddenly turned ferocious, flapped its wings, flew to the back of Tumen’s hand, and bit down hard, leaving a mark that looked just like a thorn.

Tumen held out his hand and said to the astonished Harenadak, “If I lie, vines will grow from within my body and drain my flesh, blood, and soul. If you lie, you are deceiving Queen Beldina. When She awakens, all who have harmed me will taste the Queen’s wrath.”

Chapter 851: The First Queen of Assyria

Harenadak watched the great Shaman Tumen walk into the secret passage. Now, only she and Beldina remained in the Main Chamber of the golden pyramid, which was filled with blooming flowers. Over two hundred Flower Fey, with more than four hundred gazes, all fixed upon her.

These colorful little creatures were no simpletons. Their beautiful, cute, and mischievous appearances stemmed from Beldina’s imagination. In truth, Nature Spirits have no concept of right and wrong, much less do they abide by social order. In their eyes, the Chief Priestess, the most powerful Shamaness in the Assyrian Empire, was no different from a worm in the forest. If Harenadak were to show even a hint of hostility toward Beldina, the two-hundred-odd Flower Fey would conjure terrifying man-eating flowers and turn her into a pile of fertilizer.

Bel’s power had grown stronger again. There were originally just over one hundred Flower Fey she had left behind in the Main Chamber of the golden pyramid, but their numbers had now doubled… The Shamaness smiled and tapped the green stone floor with the snake-headed staff in her hand. The air beside her rippled, and from the void, dozens of Flower Fey took shape. These were the Nature Spirits Harenadak had collected and nurtured. There were only about seventy of them, and her Nature Spirits were a full size larger than Beldina’s. They were not beautiful, with dark gray skin, no hair, and no nose, looking more like semi-undead insects.

Harenadak’s Nature Spirits appeared fierce, but they were no match for Beldina’s Flower Fey. The moment they were summoned, they were immediately surrounded by the forceful and curious Flower Fey, who pulled at their arms and legs, leaving them completely unable to resist. However, the Nature Spirits soon began to play together. The Flower Fey, with their bee or butterfly wings, invited the Nature Spirits into the flowers on the vines. The vibrant petals closed layer by layer, and points of light glowed within the floral chambers. When the buds bloomed once more, Harenadak’s Nature Spirits had also transformed into beautiful Flower Fey.

The transformation of the Nature Spirits was, in fact, a manifestation of Harenadak’s own development toward becoming a Nature Spirit Shamaness. She had made a difficult choice, deciding to henceforth major in Nature Spirit and Animal Spirit magic, using her most proficient Ancestral Spirit magic only as a supplementary tool.

As the aura of the Ancestral Spirits on the Shamaness faded, the Flower Fey became jubilant and more energetic, flapping their wings and flitting back and forth around her. The thick vines entwined around the stone bed slowly parted at Harenadak’s will, revealing the soundly sleeping Beldina.

In just a few short months, Beldina had grown a great deal. The little chubster who was not yet ten had transformed into a graceful young girl with delicate features, looking to be about twelve years old. Her cheeks were rosy with a touch of baby fat, her closed eyes would occasionally twitch, and her thick, curved eyelashes trembled slightly with them. Who knew what sweet dreams she was having. A crystal pendant adorned her full, smooth forehead—it was the most treasured artifact of the Assyrian Empire, passed down through generations: Angelina’s Sorrow.

Harenadak gazed intently at the sleeping girl, not missing a single eyelash, as if Bel herself were the most priceless treasure. Her eyes were filled with adoration for Bel. If there were a mirror nearby, she would have been startled by her own obsession, but her mind was completely captivated by the pure spirit. Extending a slender finger, she gently brushed it across Beldina’s face and murmured, “Bel, when you wake up, will you be my daughter? I will never let anyone take you from me…”

Harenadak had learned of Beldina through the Pale Sovereign, and it was she who had lured Bel back to the Assyrian city in the rainforest’s secret realm. Back then, King Mokemo had just died, and his loyalists had been purged in a bloodbath by the Shamans. The entire order of Assyrian society was in turmoil, and a power vacuum had emerged. Harenadak was busy seizing power and restoring order, so she could only entrust Beldina to the care of the great Shaman Tumen.

This was something Harenadak had come to regret.

Although the Pale Sovereign had replaced the Black Blood Sovereign, Her “mind” was not very clear. She only wanted to repair the Realm of All Spirits first and did not feed much power back to the Assyrian Shamans. The Assyrian Warrior class was still a powerful and restless force. This was why Harenadak couldn’t purge King Mokemo’s offspring; she feared it would provoke a collective counterattack from the Assyrian Warriors. Fortunately, in a very short time, Beldina brought new powers to the Assyrian Shamans and Warriors—namely, Nature Spirits and Animal Spirits. This effectively divided the Assyrian Warrior group, but it also divided the Assyrian Shamans.

The older generation of Shamans still clung to their Ancestral Spirit magic, refusing to let go, while the younger generation could only embrace Nature and Animal Spirits. Initially, the old Shamans could still receive some boons from the Pale Sovereign. They were the first to have their youthful forms restored and regain some of their spellcasting abilities. But things changed too quickly. The Ancestral Spirit Shamans, including Harenadak, had not yet been able to cultivate Ancestral Spirit Warriors when the Pale Sovereign unexpectedly occupied the body of the Colossal Slime Behemoth, attracting the attention of The Undying One. A fierce struggle erupted between the two.

The Pale Sovereign could no longer afford to focus on repairing the Realm of All Spirits; Her full attention was on dealing with The Undying One’s ant-man army. The feedback of power to the Ancestral Spirit Shamans was completely cut off. Because the Pale Sovereign had “accidentally” exposed the location of the Assyrian city, the Ancestral Spirit Shamans had to continuously create Undead Behemoths to support Her. Otherwise, if the Pale Sovereign’s Avatar was destroyed by The Undying One, the secret realm the Assyrians had worked so hard to set up would be finished as well.

The Ancestral Spirit Shamans had effectively become laborers, forced to create Undead Behemoths every day, sending them through the river channels to merge with the Pale Sovereign’s Avatar. This gave the Nature Spirit and Animal Spirit Shamans a more relaxed environment for development. The Animal Spirit Shamans, in particular, got along famously with the Assyrian Warriors, and nearly all upper-class families welcomed them. This was all because the Ancestral Spirit Shamans could not help the Assyrian Warriors gain the power of Ancestral Spirit Warriors.

The sacred spirits in the Realm of All Spirits were not eternal. During the zenith of the Assyrian Empire, there was more than one sacred spirit in the Realm of All Spirits. When the most powerful sacred spirit perished, a new one would inherit Her position and distribute power to the Assyrian Shamans. The Pale Sovereign was now the only sacred spirit in the Realm of All Spirits. If She had taken things slower, She could have lasted for another two or three hundred years. But She just had to occupy the Colossal Slime Behemoth and engage in a fierce battle with The Undying One. The Assyrian Shamans continuously performed blood sacrifices, providing Her with a steady stream of power. She had now absorbed too many souls, and Her consciousness had become tainted by the sacrificial offerings. She would rapidly degenerate, leaving only instinct, until She finally collapsed completely, becoming pure soul fire to nourish the Realm of All Spirits. And thus, She would perish.

Harenadak did not know who had placed the Wizard King’s Soul Mask on the head of the Colossal Slime Behemoth, but the Pale Sovereign’s demise was imminent.

The Pale Sovereign’s destruction was a foregone conclusion. Queen Beldina was the new master of the Realm of All Spirits, yet she detested the blood sacrifices of the Ancestral Spirits and preferred to be close to Nature and Animal Spirits.

Whether the Assyrian Shamans were willing or not, the Assyrians were about to enter a new era: the era of Queen Beldina.

Although the new era had arrived caught off guard, some Ancestral Spirit Shamans had already quietly begun to switch to practicing Nature and Animal Spirit magic. The great Shaman Tumen, the one closest to Queen Bel, had become a thorn in their side, an irritation they wished they could get rid of so they could take his place by the Queen’s side.

Harenadak felt regret as well, but she knew that killing Tumen would only enrage Beldina, not win her favor.

This time, the Slaver party of Xinu being attacked by savages was a good opportunity to drive Tumen away from the Queen’s side.

Queen Bel was tearing apart the Realm of All Spirits; the Fountain of Youth would surely appear. But the Fountain of Youth that Xinu spoke of might have been a lie fabricated to invite the Shamans to help him get revenge. Or perhaps, this entire affair was a trap specifically designed by certain people to get rid of the great Shaman Tumen from the very beginning.

A mere band of savages could defeat a Slaver party, and just by coincidence, Tumen’s grandson was among them?

However, Tumen’s problem was that he was too old. The Fountain of Youth, which could restore youth and extend longevity, held a strong allure for him. Besides, he had been trapped in the golden pyramid for so long. Even if Xinu was lying and there was no Fountain of Youth to be found, it was time for Tumen to get out, move around, and rally a new faction. At the very least, he needed to train a few Shaman apprentices to pass on the nature magic he had come to comprehend.

No matter what Tumen got up to outside, he could forget about ever returning to Queen Bel’s side. Harenadak had already done everything she needed to do. She decided to stand guard over Beldina, wait for the Little Queen to wake up, and personally teach her how to be the Queen of the Assyrian Empire.

Beldina was likable, and the Chief Priestess Shamaness was more than willing to connect with her emotionally. As soon as “Angelina’s Sorrow” was removed from Bel’s forehead, her spirit could freely return to her body from the Realm of All Spirits. Harenadak had not lost her reason; the Realm of All Spirits still needed Beldina to tear it apart and move it. Only when Beldina completed this task could the Assyrian descendants migrate to another place, rebuild their empire, and completely escape the shadow of The Undying One.

Harenadak leaned down and kissed Beldina’s apple-red cheek, whispering softly, “You’ve worked hard, Bel. I will stay here and protect you.”

“I’m working very hard.”

In the Realm of All Spirits, on the island at one end of the iron bridge, Beldina, in the form of a Flower Fey, flapped a pair of beautiful butterfly wings, hovering in the air. With her hands on her hips and her cheeks puffed out, she said to a snow-white female ant-man with dark gold eyes, “Angelina, there were four iron bridges, and I’ve dismantled two! I’m dead tired! I want to rest! I want you to tell me a story.”

The Ant-man Empress stressed, “Bel, have you forgotten what you’re supposed to call me?”

“Tutor Angelina… Tutor, Tutor, Tutor,” Beldina flitted back and forth in front of the Ant-man Empress, wheedling her repeatedly.

The Ant-man Empress smiled faintly. A hint of mischief appeared on her highly human-like face as she waved her hand, manifesting two thick tomes, one large and one small. “Since you call me Tutor, I should teach you the knowledge of magic. Open to page one-thousand-four-hundred-and-forty-five. Today, we will study Archmage Mol’s work, ‘Conjectures on the Connection between Magic and Psionic Energy.’ After we finish this lesson on psionic energy theory, I’ll continue the story from last time.”

“No, no! I want to hear a story, I want to hear a story…” Bel covered her ears with her hands and kicked her little legs, throwing a tantrum in mid-air.

The Ant-man Empress remained unmoved. Flipping through the book, she said, “If you don’t want to study, you can go play with the Pale Sovereign. I’m not willing to waste my time with you.”

When Bel had first entered the Realm of All Spirits, she would seek out the Pale Sovereign to chat and play, but She was very dull. She only taught Beldina some Ancestral Spirit magic and methods for transforming the Realm of All Spirits. The Pale Sovereign spoke less and less and now almost never responded to Beldina, like a stone statue. Bel didn’t like the Pale Sovereign or the ghosts of those Assyrians either. In order to leave this damned place, she followed Tutor Tumen’s instructions and severed the four iron bridges of the Realm of All Spirits. As a result, she met the Ant-man Empress Angelina on the other side of the bridge.

Angelina was the only one who could talk to Bel. She told Bel many interesting stories on the condition that Bel study magic with her. Unable to bear the loneliness, Beldina accepted Angelina as her tutor.

When the Ant-man Empress told Bel to go play with the Pale Sovereign, Bel immediately surrendered and could only obediently study psionic energy theory with Tutor Angelina.

Beldina’s talent for magic was extremely high, and she quickly completed today’s lesson. The Ant-man Empress closed the book in satisfaction, letting the tome vanish into thin air. She asked, “You’ve learned very well, Bel. I’d like to reward you. Besides hearing a story, do you have any other wishes?”

“A wish?” Beldina thought for a moment, then said angrily, “My wish is that when I get out, I’m going to cut off that old man Tumen’s braid! He told me that entering this damned place and destroying the four iron bridges was the final Trial. After completing this Trial, I would be able to see Master, Papa, Caligula, Lady Charlotte, and Narsen and the others… Lord Narsen looks very fierce, but he really likes Bel. Every time Bel visited his home, his wife would cook a whole table full of dishes and let Bel eat her fill… Oh, and I didn’t have to mind my manners.”

Realizing she had gone off-topic, Bel stuck out her tongue and sighed, “Tutor Tumen didn’t tell me that destroying the iron bridges would be so difficult. I thought this Trial would be as simple as the previous tasks.”

The Ant-man Empress lay on the ground, listening quietly to Beldina’s complaints. When she had finished, she smiled and said, “Cutting off that old man Tumen’s braid is simple. That doesn’t count as a wish. Does Bel have a wish that’s very difficult to achieve?”

Beldina first looked dazed, then two blushes slowly rose on her cheeks. She clasped her small hands behind her back and said shyly, “Bel wants to serve Master Victor, just like My Lady Lilia…” Perhaps because it was too embarrassing, she added, “All the handmaidens at Silver Moon Manor think so. Shirley thinks so too, she told me. Sigh, Shirley has gotten taller, but Bel has only grown a little bit…”

The Ant-man Empress looked at Beldina’s slightly pointed ears and said with a smile, “So, you made your ears pointed like Master Victor’s? Well, you’ll grow taller quickly once you master the Realm of All Spirits. But are you sure you truly want His Highness Randall?”

Beldina touched her ears, giggled foolishly for a few moments, then nodded and said, “Of course I want to serve Master Victor. Everyone thinks so.”

The Ant-man Empress shook her head with a smile. “His Highness Randall has a noble Bloodline. As a Son of the Sun, he has a strong charm for females, be they human or elf… It’s normal for you to like his handsome appearance, but you may not truly love him. Is it because all your allies are proud to admire His Highness Randall, so you don’t want to be an exception?”

Bel blinked, her expression perplexed. “But Master Victor smells so good. Bel likes hugging him to sleep the most.”

The Ant-man Empress fell silent for a moment, then tried to guide Beldina, “You’re still young and don’t fully understand your own heart. You have almost no understanding of the nature of love. Although His Highness Randall smells nice, he’s not actually a suitable husband for you. You should get to know more people and understand your own heart. For example, a Paladin… didn’t you say the Paladins of the Radiant Church are handsome, brave, and righteous? When you grow up, you should consider marrying a renowned Paladin.”

“No, no, no,” Beldina shook her head so hard it was like a pellet drum, waving her hands frantically. “A Paladin would tie Bel to a stake and burn her to death, or chop off Bel’s little head with a holy sword… Master Victor is the one who’s good to Bel. But Master already has several ‘My Ladies’…”

Bel’s wings drooped. A little troubled and dejected, she said, “For Master to take Bel as his personal handmaiden, he needs Lady Sylvia’s permission. Lady Sylvia… she doesn’t seem to like Bel. She never talks to me… Bel is a little afraid of Lady Sylvia.”

The moment her voice fell, The Anomaly struck. The sky of the Realm of All Spirits took on the appearance of a crystalline dome, which then developed large cracks, as if a great will was about to descend.

“A Supreme Elementalist?!”

The Ant-man Empress shot to her feet, saying urgently, “Bel, don’t mention the Supreme Elementalist’s name ever again, at least not in here!”

Beldina was frightened too. She flew to a large rock and hid in a crevice, not daring to make a sound. Gradually, the cracked crystal dome disappeared, returning to a blue-purple sky. Bel poked her head out from under the rock. Seeing nothing amiss, she flew out, patting her slightly raised little chest, and said in fear and unease, “What was that? Bel didn’t say anything bad about My Lady. Did she see me?”

The Ant-man Empress also breathed a sigh of relief and shook her head. “No… This is complicated to explain. It’s related to her, but also not. I didn’t expect there to be a Supreme Elementalist in this era, and she’s His Highness Randall’s wife? No wonder he can resist the call of the Sun Tree… Don’t you glare and point your finger at me. I’m not afraid of her. It doesn’t matter if I say her name. It’s because you are afraid of her that the Realm of All Spirits became afraid too. So, don’t say her name, to avoid attracting the attention of the Elemental Sea.”

She thought for a moment, organized her words, and continued to guide Beldina. “Lady Sylvia is a Supreme Elementalist, but if you see her and the Supreme Elementalist as two different wills, you can understand what just happened. You must understand that our world operates according to the laws established by Taelon Ruier. The Creation Giant Ape created the world, and His will does not allow His creation to head towards destruction. So, among His laws is one that monitors the world’s destroyers—that is the Supreme Elementalist, who first appeared at the beginning of the Dark Age.”

“Let’s take an example. The Black Blood Sovereign in the Asoerta Temple was very powerful. If He hadn’t met His Highness Randall beforehand and mastered a perfect body, He would have left the Asoerta Mountains, destroying and absorbing all life He encountered. His predation brings destruction, but it also incites resistance. Let’s assume He stops his predatory behavior and stays in one place to establish a fief. He would not exterminate more life forms. This is called assimilation—being assimilated by the world’s will. It’s also called submission—submitting to the laws of the world. Conversely, if He preys without end, he will always encounter resistance and battle, leading to exhaustion, injury, weakness, and finally, death. This is called elimination—being eliminated by the laws of the world.”

“However, in the Dark Age, beings far more powerful than the Black Blood Sovereign were everywhere. They had the ability to destroy the world’s balance and annihilate numerous life forms. Few could stop the advance of these powerful beings, until they met a Supreme Elementalist of the human ancestors, and they always met one. Unless they stopped their advance and accepted assimilation by the world’s laws, choosing submission, they would one day clash with a Supreme Elementalist.”

“The primordial beings’ Supreme Elementalists brought about the Dark Age—a Dark Age of powerful beings! Those who submitted were assimilated by the world. Those who did not were eliminated by the Supreme Elementalists. In the Dark Age, the Supreme Elementalist was called the Son of Taelon Ruier by extraordinary beings, an incarnation of the world’s origin. Our Alchemical Empire also had a Supreme Elementalist. He drove the Divine Colossi and… never mind, that’s a long story, and I don’t know much about it myself. We can look for answers later. What you need to know now is that the Realm of All Spirits also has a consciousness. The Realm of All Spirits originates from the King of the Spirit Realm. You have already grasped control of the Realm of All Spirits and merged with its consciousness. You fear Lady Sylvia, so the Realm of All Spirits also fears being eliminated by the Supreme Elementalist. This led to the dissipation of the Realm’s power.”

The Ant-man Empress explained, “Lady Sylvia doesn’t know what happened here. It was because you were afraid of her that the Realm of All Spirits cracked in fear. You can understand what I’m saying, right?”

Beldina shook her head, sucking on her finger and mumbling, “If I’m not afraid of My Lady, the Realm of All Spirits won’t crack?”

The Ant-man Empress sighed and said, “You should probably stay afraid. You’re completely incapable of not being afraid of her.”

“Why? My Lady isn’t actually fierce,” Beldina said, her face full of indignation.

“You really are a little fool.” The Ant-man Empress slapped her forehead and transformed into an elegant, beautiful woman with long red hair. Covering her mouth, she laughed. “You say you’re not afraid, and so you’re not? Let me tell you, in the Realm of All Spirits, you can fly without wings. But you can’t do it. Your cognition is that you need wings to fly. You can become anything you want, but you only ever become a Flower Fey or Beldina. That’s your cognition, and it’s not something you can change just by thinking about it.”

Beldina landed on the ground, reverting to her girlish form. She grabbed the Ant-man Empress’s hand and looked it over and over, exclaiming in amazement, “Wow, Tutor Angelina, you were so beautiful all along! You’re human, like us, too.”

“I was once… I always have been. That’s why I can resume my human form here.” The Ant-man Empress changed the subject. “Bel, you are special. Among the primordial beings, there are Knights, Supreme Elementalists, and, as you know, Wizards. In the Alchemical Empire, Wizards were called The Divinely Chosen, and among them were The Chosen Ones, whose status was no less than that of a Supreme Elementalist. You are one of The Chosen Ones!”

“Lady Sylvia represents chaotic elements, and you represent the ultimate Law. But you must remember, if your power grows to an unimaginable degree, a Supreme Elementalist can still eliminate you… through mutual destruction. You must learn to revere this world, to integrate into it, and find your own place. One day, you will be worthy of His Highness Randall, but Lady Sylvia may not be pleased. Therefore, His Highness Randall is not a suitable husband for you. The Radiant Church, on the other hand, can accommodate you and the Realm of All Spirits.”

The Ant-man Empress pointed at the broken iron bridge and said, “The Realm of All Spirits itself is flawed. The four iron bridges here all lead to the same island. No matter which bridge you cross, you can only reach my position. The essence of the bridges is a manifestation of the law that purifies souls. The spirits of the Assyrians that cross the bridge will all be reduced to pure Soul Fire. But on the other side of the bridge, it’s different; the Assyrian souls can remain intact. The Pale Sovereign absorbed those souls to enhance Her own power but was also tainted by the Will Side of those many souls. Unable to bear it, She lost Her self-awareness and became sustenance for the Realm of All Spirits, ultimately giving birth to a new Black Blood Sovereign.”

“You have merged with the Realm of All Spirits, but the Black Blood Sovereign will not be polite with you. He will devour you. You won’t be able to escape, forced to hide on this island forever, just like me.”

Beldina hugged her arms and said, trembling, “Bel doesn’t want to be eaten by the Black Blood Sovereign.”

“The only way is to abandon the blood sacrifices of the Assyrians and use the faith of the Radiant Church to replace soul power in sustaining the Realm of All Spirits. This way, the Black Blood Sovereign will not be born. You must destroy the four iron bridges, take the Realm of All Spirits with you, return to the human kingdoms, join the Radiant Church, and you must achieve a very high status.”

Bel shook her head in rebuttal. “But the clergy of the Church always like to barbecue Wizards. I don’t want to be burned to death by the Inquisition either…”

“They are absolutely not as terrifying as the Black Blood Sovereign… My student, I will help you. This is also to help myself,” the Ant-man Empress said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and taking Bel’s small hand.

Beldina felt a strange sense of security. She nodded hesitantly and couldn’t help asking, “Tutor Angelina, why do you know so much about the Realm of All Spirits, even more than that big dummy, the Pale Sovereign?”

Angelina’s eyes became deep and unfathomable. With a sigh full of sorrow, she said, “I am the founder of the Assyrian civilization, the first queen of the Assyrian Empire.”

“Ah! Then why are you trapped here?”

Angelina was silent for a long time before saying faintly, “Because… of a lover’s betrayal.”

Chapter 852: Betrayal and Ambush

“Betrayal! It’s Xinu! He’s joined forces with the savages! He betrayed us!”

The Beast Spirit Warrior, Tiger Claw, held a spear in one hand and a large vine-and-wood shield in the other, protecting Shaman Tumen. Goose-egg-sized stones hammered against the shield with loud thumps, while the screams, roars, and curses of the private soldiers filled the air with chaotic noise. Tiger Claw had to shout at the top of his lungs to report to the family head.

Tumen’s wizened old face was expressionless. “Where is Xinu?” he asked, his voice dry and hoarse.

“He fled ahead of time, taking his private soldiers into the western forest. I sent men after them, but they were driven back by a group of headhunting savages.” Tiger Claw blocked several flying stones with his shield and said urgently, “Great Shaman, we’re surrounded by savages! There are also many Greenskins and Gnolls in the rainforest to the north!”

Tumen’s search for the Fountain of Youth on this expedition was partly an excuse to meet and conspire with several powerful Ancestral Spirit Shamans. The Assyrian Empire was at a critical juncture of reform, and Tumen had promised benefits to several old friends, hoping to resolve hostilities and reach a consensus for cooperation. If he found the Fountain of Youth, Tumen promised to share some of it with them. Even if he didn’t find it, it wouldn’t affect his efforts to win over allies and gather new forces. Therefore, Tumen hadn’t brought many of his own private soldiers. Xinu, on the other hand, had brought every private soldier he could muster from his family, seemingly intent on getting revenge on the headhunting savages at all costs.

The larger the party, the slower it moved and the more supplies it consumed. Besides Harenadak’s 100 private soldiers, Tumen had only mobilized 40 elite private soldiers from his own house. Combined with the 144 men from Xinu’s family, they had a total of 284 Assyrian warriors, including 3 Shamans, 31 Beast Spirit Warriors, and 155 Scaled Assyrian Warriors.

This force could have crushed any single savage tribe, but no one had expected Xinu to lead them into the savages’ ambush.

Over the past one thousand five hundred years, the descendants of the Assyrian Empire had changed their established methods of warfare. They had lost their once-proud Ancestral Spirit Warriors and Slave Trolls, and with them, the ability to launch frontal assaults. The Assyrian descendants, including the Assyrian savages, were now experts in jungle warfare, excelling in guerrilla tactics, skirmishes, stealth, setting traps, and using potent toxins. They moved through the dense forest in groups of three to five, using body paint and unique war cries to identify friend from foe and to communicate.

Tumen’s party numbered nearly 300, and Xinu had led them into the rainforest on the other side of the river, causing the formation to spread out over a large area. When Xinu’s private soldiers suddenly fled, Tumen’s entire right flank was exposed to the savages. Bare-chested headhunting savages, smeared with white paint, launched a fierce attack on Tumen’s party with poison arrows, poison darts, and stones from slingshots.

The poison-wielding Assyrians didn’t aim for precision; as long as they hit their target, they could rely on the toxins coating their projectiles to win the day. But the Assyrians also had high resistance to poison, especially the scaled ones, who were almost immune to the toxins used by the headhunting savages. The savages’ poison arrows and darts were crudely made and posed little threat to Tumen’s private soldiers. Their slingshots, however, were a nuisance. The stones they fired could snap branches as thick as a man’s arm and could be fatal if they struck a vital spot on the head.

Fortunately, the Assyrian private soldiers all wore tough vine armor. Despite being caught in a surprise encirclement by the headhunters, they quickly stabilized their position, using the rainforest trees for cover and trading shots with the headhunters using their own bows and arrows. They suffered few losses and even managed to shoot down several savages who had advanced too recklessly.

However, the headhunting savages outnumbered the Assyrian private soldiers by at least five to one. The real worry was Xinu’s force of over a hundred private soldiers. Though Xinu had yet to join the siege, Tumen’s warrior chieftain, Tiger Claw, dared not be careless. He skewered a howling headhunter with his sharp wooden javelin and said to Tumen, “Great Shaman, we’re outnumbered. I fear Xinu’s men are waiting for the savages to wear us down before they attack. I think we’d better shift to the left.”

On Tumen’s left flank were Harenadak’s 100 private soldiers, led by Shaman Vava. They were currently under attack by Greenskins and Gnolls. Tumen didn’t quite believe Harenadak would try to murder him, but Xinu’s betrayal and this savage ambush were too strange. He couldn’t rashly decide to move closer to Vava either.

A typical savage tribe had at most a hundred or so headhunters. Each tribe had its own dialect and was hostile to the others, making joint operations unlikely. Yet the headhunters attacking them numbered in the hundreds, meaning at least four savage tribes were participating in this hunt.

This was the first inconsistency.

On the other hand, judging by the noise the Greenskins and Gnolls were making, their numbers were also limited; they were unlikely to defeat the elite warriors led by Vava. Greenskins and Gnolls were known cowards who bullied the weak and feared the strong. For them to attack a superior force was illogical. This was the second inconsistency.

Instead of flanking to the right, Tumen summoned a Nature Spirit and made a large patch of Poison Burst Fruit sprout on his right flank. A normal Nature Spirit Shaman would need two or three hours to grow Poison Burst Fruits, and the fruit would only be the size of a fist. They would automatically burst when an enemy drew near, creating a large cloud of poisonous spores. Even a bear would die if it inhaled a few mouthfuls. It was an extremely insidious defensive nature spell.

But under Great Shaman Tumen, the Poison Burst Fruits grew at a frenzied pace visible to the naked eye. The purple-green fruits swelled to the size of a child’s head, their lethality and range naturally far greater than normal. But Tumen was busy setting the Poison Burst Fruit trap and had no time to deal with the surrounding headhunters. As he cast his spell, he commanded, “Crocodile Tail, you deal with these savages.”

The young shaman from Tumen’s family, his face painted with bright red pigment, grinned, revealing sharp, snake-like fangs. Wisps of black smoke coiled from his body, coalescing into a massive porcupine—his Guardian Spirit.

The black-smoke porcupine solidified and charged toward the headhunting savages with a howl. The savages’ arrows, poison darts, and stones had no effect on it. It arched its back and shot out a quill, piercing a headhunter through the chest. Amidst the savage’s dying gasps, the quill dissolved into a wisp of black smoke, leaving a thumb-sized wound over the savage’s heart, from which blood gushed freely.

The Assyrian savages were equally ill-suited for pitched battles. After the porcupine Guardian Spirit killed five headhunters in quick succession, they began to show signs of retreat.

At the same time, a series of wolf howls echoed from the rainforest to the left. Unlike the sharp cackles of the Gnolls, these howls were powerful and deep, stimulating the spirits of the Assyrian warriors. It was clear that Shaman Vava had summoned his Guardian Spirits—five great black wolves.

Guardian Spirits could not be killed, but they had to become tangible to attack, which also made them vulnerable to harm. However, injuries didn’t change their form or reduce their combat power, only shortening the duration they could remain manifested. Once they accumulated enough damage, they would dissolve into black smoke and return to the Animal Spirit Shaman, inflicting pain and weakness upon them.

The five black wolves, larger than tigers, had just appeared when they immediately tore to shreds many Greenskins and Gnolls. Except for the simple-minded Bear-headed Greenskins who were still charging recklessly, the other beastmen began to lose their nerve.

The situation seemed to be turning around, but this was merely an illusion for the Assyrian descendants. As larger monsters joined the battlefield, the left flank led by Shaman Vava was the first to collapse.

Harenadak’s elite private soldiers began to flee toward Great Shaman Tumen’s position. The burly and valiant Shaman Vava, protected by a few Beast Spirit Warriors, was also in a panicked retreat. Only three black wolf Guardian Spirits remained by his side. Then, a monster of a kind Tumen had never seen before crashed through the dense rainforest vegetation and pounced ferociously at Shaman Vava.

They were like a cross between great rainforest ox-frogs and big-headed lizards. Their four limbs were thick and powerful, and two rows of bony spines ran down their backs. Their charge was astonishingly fast. The tiger-sized black wolf Guardian Spirits had no size advantage against them. One wolf bit into a monster’s shoulder, tearing away a large chunk of flesh. The creature seemed to feel no pain. It opened its wide maw, lined with barbed teeth, and bit back, clamping down on the Guardian Spirit’s head. Its neck bulged as it tried to swallow the Guardian Spirit whole.

The barbed teeth in the monster’s mouth churned and squeezed. Unable to break free, the black wolf Guardian Spirit dissolved into a great puff of black smoke with a poof and flowed rapidly back into Shaman Vava.

Using his Guardian Spirit to momentarily block the monster, Shaman Vava and his last dozen or so Assyrian warriors crossed the large patch of Poison Burst Fruit and ran to Tumen’s side. He shouted furiously, “Great Shaman, I sent men to call for help! Why didn’t you support us?”

At that moment, three more large monsters charged into Tumen’s field of vision, followed by a horde of Greenskins and Gnolls. The Great Shaman had no time for Vava. With a single thought, the Poison Burst Fruits all exploded. A magnificent cloud of poisonous spores spread out, forming a deadly barrier. The Greenskins and Gnolls within the cloud couldn’t even scream as they dropped dead on the spot. Even the tough-bodied Bear-headed Greenskins managed only a few more steps, gasping and inhaling more of the spore cloud before dying mid-charge.

The four large monsters, however, burst through the cloud of poisonous spores. The Assyrian Beast Spirit Warriors unleashed their abilities and, at some cost, managed to surround and kill the poisoned beasts one by one.

The yellowish-brown cloud of poisonous spores lingered, obscuring vision and masking scents. But the blue-scaled Assyrian warriors could still see beastmen milling about on the other side through their thermal sense. The howls of the fierce Gnoll leader echoed relentlessly; they clearly had no intention of ending the battle, even with hundreds of their kind lying breathless in the terrifying spore cloud.

The headhunters on the right flank were retreating, and Great Shaman Tumen finally breathed a sigh of relief. In the recent battle, Harenadak had lost more than thirty elite private soldiers, and Shaman Vava’s fury did not seem feigned. This meant Harenadak had not set the trap.

“Xinu betrayed us. He led us into the headhunters’ encirclement. My side was also just attacked by savages, so I was unable to support you,” Tumen explained to Shaman Vava.

“I see that now,” Shaman Vava said, his face pale. It was half from the backlash of his severely injured Guardian Spirit, and half from the terror inspired by the power Great Shaman Tumen had displayed.

“Why would Xinu side with the savages? And how do the savages have so many beastmen and monsters as helpers?” Vava couldn’t help but ask.

Tumen couldn’t answer his ally’s questions, nor did he have the time. The commotion from the headhunters was growing louder, mingled with the roars of monsters. Through the eyes of his Nature Spirit, the Great Shaman could already see hundreds of headhunting savages, hundreds of half-cat, half-ape beasts, and Xinu’s private soldiers, now painted with the same colors as the savages. Most terrifying of all were four giants, nearly three meters tall, wielding tree trunks several meters long, ready to charge.

The giants were immensely powerful, resistant to blades and swords, and their resistance to poison was even higher than that of an Assyrian warrior. Even the Beast Spirit Warriors in their party couldn’t stop their charge.

Tumen was still using his Nature Spirit to try and find the enemy leader, but the enemy and their beasts were beginning their attack. The Great Shaman, who specialized in Nature Spirits, said coldly, “Vava, call all your private soldiers over here, lest I kill them by mistake. I will show the enemy the true meaning of nature’s wrath!”

Nearly a thousand enemies swarmed through the rainforest. The four giants, stomping with heavy footsteps, charged at the forefront, wielding their massive tree trunks. Leopard-sized cat-ape beasts leaped from the treetops, closing in. The expressions of the valiant and skilled Assyrian warriors changed. The hundreds of cat-ape beasts alone were more than they could handle, not to mention the headhunters and Xinu’s elite private soldiers following behind the four giants.

For the first time, Great Shaman Tumen chanted a difficult incantation. The vines, weeds, and branches of the rainforest seemed to come alive. They wrapped themselves tightly around the enemies, growing rapidly. For every one that was torn, two more grew in its place. The headhunters and Xinu’s private soldiers roared but could not break free, until they were bound tight by the ever-constricting vines. The weaker savages even had their necks snapped. The giants, with their astonishing brute force, tore through layer after layer of animated vines, but their charge was unavoidably slowed.

The very soil began to churn, and a dozen man-eating flower vines burst from the ground. They were like giant pythons as thick as a man’s thigh, their flowering heads like the heads of serpents. They first ensnared the struggling giants, then sprayed greenish pollen at the smaller savages, Xinu’s private soldiers, and the beasts. Any savage or soldier sprayed with the pollen let out blood-curdling screams. Their skin rapidly ulcerated, and their heads, muscles and bones corroded, fell clean off their necks.

The pitched battle had just begun, and the savage side was already in complete disarray.

This was the power of a Nature Spirit Great Shaman!

Chapter 853: A Clash of Spells

Assyrian Shamans generally looked down upon Nature Spirit spells. They believed that Nature Spirit Shamans could do little more than tend to flowers and grasses, or at best, cultivate crops. While beneficial to a settlement, their combat capabilities were pitifully low, hardly befitting of the awesome, extraordinary power wielded by a fearsome Assyrian Shaman.

Today, Great Shaman Tumen had taught Vava and Crocodile Tail a lesson, completely upending their perception of Nature Spirit spells. The Poison Burst Fruits Tumen had grown in an instant had annihilated over a hundred beastmen attackers and formed a toxic barrier, protecting the party’s rear from the danger of being attacked on two fronts.

He had awakened the forest’s fury, sending out countless vines, branches, and blades of grass to bind the savage headhunters, the traitors from Xinu’s family, and the beasts in the treetops. A dozen thick, tough man-eating flower vines had even ensnared the unstoppable Giants. They had also sprayed acidic, poisonous pollen, corroding many enemies into fertilizer.

Vava was an Animal Spirit Shaman of the new generation. With five Guardian Spirits as formidable as dire wolves, he was considered among the best of his kind. Yet he had never imagined that he could single-handedly eliminate over a hundred beastmen and break an attack by nearly a thousand enemies. Great Shaman Tumen had done just that. Even if the man-eating flowers had only killed a minority of the foes, the enemy’s offensive had indeed been stemmed. The Cat-apes in the trees were busy trying to free their ensnared kin; the four immensely strong Giants were bound tightly by several man-eating flower vines, and though their thick hides protected them from the poisonous pollen, they were now just prey waiting to be slaughtered; and over a hundred savage headhunters were still struggling with the vines wrapped around them. The other savages and the traitors from Xinu’s family were terrified, not daring to advance.

Great Shaman Tumen’s Nature Spirit spells had actually decided the outcome of a battle—something an Animal Spirit Shaman could never achieve. Even when comparing personal strength, Vava no longer doubted that one of Great Shaman Tumen’s man-eating flowers could “kill” a black wolf Guardian Spirit with a single puff of acidic pollen.

The Giants were so thoroughly wrapped in man-eating flower vines that their bodies were no longer visible. The Assyrian Warriors decided to leave the Giants for later, instead using poison arrows and blowguns to leisurely pick off the trapped savage headhunters, rebels, and Cat-ape beasts in the treetops.

The other man-eating flowers continued to hunt freely in the forest. They spat acidic pollen, dissolving savages and rebels into flower fertilizer before swallowing them whole, causing their vines to grow even thicker and more powerful.

In truth, Great Shaman Tumen had not trapped a great number of enemies with his Nature Spirit spells—only a hundred or so—but the savage headhunters and Xinu’s rebels were already scared out of their wits. They feared the animated plants and the acidic pollen of the man-eating flowers and dared not continue their charge or rescue their allies, lest they suffer the same fate.

On Tumen’s side, the Assyrian Warriors loudly taunted their opponents for being as cowardly as mice. Some even untied their loincloths and wiggled their rear ends at the enemy to humiliate them.

“The forest is filled with the seeds of life. They lie dormant, invisible to the naked eye. My Nature Spirit awakens them from their slumber and unleashes their fury upon the heads of our enemies.” Tumen spoke in a level tone to the two young Shamans. “You must learn to listen to the voices of nature. The trees, the flowers, the grasses, the seeds—they cry, they laugh, they roar, they warn… These are sounds you cannot hear with your ears alone, but they truly exist. If one day you can hear and understand the words of nature, you will be but one final step away from the domain of nature.”

Tumen was intentionally spreading the doctrine of the Nature Spirit. This was a condition for the succession of his magical system and the foundation for building a political power base. He needed more Assyrian Shamans to join him.

Just as Vava was about to ask the Great Shaman about the mysteries of Nature Spirit spells, a deep, resonant voice echoed from the dense woods:

“Plants crying and laughing—a brilliant discourse. But when the seeds of life in nature are awakened by you to pour out your anger upon my servants, what will become of this rainforest?”

“Only prolonged desolation and decay!”

The Shamans and Warriors turned pale with shock. The voice was clearly the roar of a monster, yet they could understand its meaning.

An enormous figure crashed into the rainforest. Many of the savage headhunters fell to their knees in worship. It was a giant monster with crocodile skin, resembling a cross between a bear and a wild boar. Four tusks, the longest a full half-meter, protruded from its mouth like gleaming scimitars. Its shoulder height was nearly equal to that of a Giant, and its massive body was like a mountain of flesh, exuding an aura of savage malevolence. Its fiery red eyes seemed to be two burning flames, yet they were coated with a platinum-gold sheen, making it appear both wild and bloodthirsty, yet full of reason.

The giant monster let out a terrifying roar and charged straight for Tumen’s position. The earth trembled beneath its feet. The animated saplings, roots, leaves, and vines desperately tried to ensnare it, but they were deflected, shattered, and torn apart by its rolling, scaly hide, unable to slow its charge in the slightest.

As if on command, the Cat-ape beasts in the treetops began to struggle frantically, biting and tearing with their claws to free themselves from the vines. As soon as they fell to the ground, they were immediately restrained by other animated plants. They failed to join the giant monster’s charge against the Assyrian Warriors’ line, but they diverted Great Shaman Tumen’s vigor, preventing him from doing more to hinder the monster.

The monster’s menacing momentum and colossal size exerted immense pressure on the Assyrian Warriors. Several man-eating flower vines immediately abandoned their fertilizer, their calyxes lined with teeth-like thorns snapping shut. They dove headfirst into the rainforest’s humus, slithering rapidly toward the giant monster.

The man-eating flowers were over twenty meters long, their vines thicker than an Assyrian Warrior’s thigh. Each one could restrain a Giant. The remaining vines had already absorbed a good deal of fertilizer and become even more active. Together, they could surely subdue this terrifying giant beast!

Just as the Assyrian Warriors hoped, the nearest man-eating flower vine was the first to wrap around the great bear-boar monster. The vine, covered in poisonous thorns, tightened relentlessly, injecting paralyzing venom into the monster’s body. Although the monster managed to rip this man-eating flower out of the soil with brute force, its charge was finally slowed. The other man-eating flower vines slithered over, their roots digging into the earth and intertwining tightly with the roots of the surrounding trees, locking the giant monster firmly in place.

The monster was now covered in man-eating flower vines. They couldn’t spray their highly corrosive pollen on themselves, but the thorns on the vines would still inject toxins into their prey. Although the skin of Giants and giant beasts was extremely tough and difficult for the thorns to penetrate, man-eating flowers were mutated plants. No monster could match a plant in a contest of stamina. Bound by five man-eating flowers and unable to move, the giant monster would eventually grow exhausted and weak.

Man-eating flowers were arguably one of the most terrifying killers in the rainforest. Using the roots of large trees and their own poisonous thorns, they could often hunt large monsters, sometimes spending months digesting a single Giant. Unless a Giant could pull down the tree connected to the man-eating flower’s roots, it could not escape the vines’ entanglement. It would then be suspended by the cluster of flowers, trapped within a large ball of vines where it was difficult to gain leverage, and eventually become nutrients for the man-eaters.

This three-ton monster was already ensnared by the cluster of man-eating flowers. It seemed its fate to become flower fertilizer was sealed.

Unfortunately, the man-eating flowers knew nothing of the fire of the mind, and Great Shaman Tumen did not know that this Biological Aberration was the joint masterpiece of Imoson the Wizard and Father Dayn.

The giant monster’s body suddenly contracted. In the brief moment before the man-eating flower vines could tighten again, the sound of its bones and sinews popping echoed like a clap of thunder. The thick, tough man-eating flower vines instantly snapped, breaking apart inch by inch. The monster roared as it tore apart its cage of vines:

“Shaman, did you hear the man-eating flowers scream? Did you feel their pain?”

Tumen heard nothing. The instant the cluster of man-eating flowers was torn asunder by the monster, his mind felt as if it had been filled with scalding oil, or as if a red-hot iron rod had been shoved into it. The unbearable agony caused the Great Shaman’s vision to go black, and he lost consciousness.

A Legendary-rank Nature Spirit Shaman was certainly powerful, but Tumen’s spells were still part of a new, undeveloped field. It had not yet formed a complete system and still had many weaknesses. Meanwhile, one of his opponents, Father Dayn of the Radiant Church, commanded a mature system of spellcasting.

From the very beginning, their wrestling match had been an asymmetric clash of spells.

Although Dayn did not understand Nature Spirit spells, he could treat his enemy as an exceptionally powerful Wild Wizard. No spellcaster could escape a few crucial limitations, including vigor consumption and spell backlash.

When Imoson the Wizard’s aberrant cat-apes and Ogre servants were tangling with the animated plants, they were accelerating the drain on Great Shaman Tumen’s vigor. As his vigor neared depletion, the Aberrant Dire Bear deliberately allowed several man-eating flowers to entwine themselves around its body. Empowered by Wisdom Guidance, Restoration Art, Heroism Art, Detoxification Art, and the fire of the mind, the Aberrant Dire Bear was at the peak of a Gold-rank creature. Shattering the cluster of man-eating flowers delivered the most severe spell backlash to Great Shaman Tumen.

With the Legendary Great Shaman’s spirit heavily damaged and him lying unconscious, the rest was simple work for the Randall expedition team.

The savage headhunters, Xinu’s private soldiers, the aberrant cat-apes, the Aberrant Dire Bear, and the freed Ogres howled as they charged the hundred-plus Assyrian Warriors.

Seeing the tables turn, Shaman Vava immediately bit his lip with his Fangs, injecting venom into himself to stimulate his latent potential. His last two black wolf Guardian Spirits dissolved into black smoke and merged into his body.

“Hold them off! I’ll break through with the Great Shaman!”

Wolf fur sprouted on the Animal Spirit Shaman’s face and body, his snout protruded, and he was on the verge of transforming into a werewolf over two meters tall.

A streak of black light shot out from the opposing forest. With a splat, the werewolf’s head exploded like a rotten watermelon. The headless body swayed for a moment before collapsing to the ground.

Spellcasters are powerful, and spellcasters are fragile. Especially before Caligula, who had mastered the Touch of the Mind. With a single refined iron javelin, he had sent Shaman Vava to the Realm of All Spirits.

When Tumen awoke again, he found himself lying in a savage camp, with no one he recognized around him. He struggled to get up from the ground and saw a man sitting on the leg of the giant monster opposite him, surrounded by a group of well-equipped warriors and four Giants.

The man’s eyes were like two leaping flames. His expression was grim as he said in a low voice, “I am Beldina’s father. Where did you take my daughter?”

“What?”

The old shaman’s eyes instantly flew wide open. His expression shifted erratically—shock, joy, and suspicion all at once. He stammered, “You are Queen Beldina’s father? Y-you… why are you helping the savages fight the Queen’s most loyal shaman?”

Chapter 854: Formulating a Plan

Tumen didn’t ask what had happened to his men. Just as the Assyrian Empire captured savages for sacrificial offerings and slaves, the savages likewise hunted Assyrians. When a Slaver party fell into the hands of savages, their fate was easy to imagine.

However, the fact that the leader of the savage headhunters was Queen Beldina’s father gave Tumen a sliver of hope. In truth, the Assyrian Shamans held a peculiar view of humanity. During the zenith of the Assyrian Empire, the Assyrian Wizard Kings proclaimed the purple-scaled Assyrians as the highest class, the blue-scaled as second, the cyan-scaled as the lowest class, and the scaleless Assyrians as a debased breed. Humans, who were scaleless, fangless, and had large eyes, were considered even lower than the debased breed, not even qualifying as sacrificial offerings. They were collectively known as Rare People or Outsiders.

That’s right, in traditional Assyrian culture, humans were described as a branch of the Assyrians. Although Assyrians had almost never seen a real human, the legend of the Rare People had been passed down to this day. When Assyrians cursed each other, accusing the other of giving birth to Rare People was the most vicious of maledictions.

The specific origins of the legend of the Rare People could no longer be verified, but it was related to the genesis of the Assyrian Empire.

Legend has it that the first Ancestral Spirit of the Assyrians had Her body dismembered by enemies in Her sleep. She had no choice but to create five children, demanding they find all Her body parts. The first child, after enduring many hardships, found the Ancestral Spirit’s head, and the Ancestral Spirit rewarded him with beautiful purple scales. The second child found the Ancestral Spirit’s body, and the Ancestral Spirit rewarded him with blue scales. The third child found the Ancestral Spirit’s limbs, hands, and feet, and the Ancestral Spirit rewarded him with cyan scales. The fourth child found the Ancestral Spirit’s hair, so the Ancestral Spirit gave him no scales. The fifth child, due to laziness and cowardice, only brought back the Ancestral Spirit’s feces. The Ancestral Spirit was furious, threw the feces at him, and drove him from their home. Afterward, the Ancestral Spirit felt some regret. She gathered her four children and told them: “Your brother has been banished by me. He is an outsider from this day forth. But if one day, he uses my feces to cultivate the most beautiful flower, he shall be your king.”

“The most beautiful flower can grow from stinking feces.”

In the largest and most comfortable straw hut in the savage camp, Imosen, with considerable pride, related to his companions, “That old Shaman named Tumen said Beldina is ‘the most beautiful flower,’ the Queen of the Assyrian Empire.”

“Oh, that’s just terrible,” Brandon said in a low voice, lowering the fruit he had been about to eat. The others at the table also looked at Imosen with strange, sympathetic eyes, trying their best not to laugh out loud.

Imosen froze for a moment. The most beautiful flower grew from stinking feces, and Beldina was the most beautiful flower, which meant that he, her father, was… The Wizard suddenly lost his appetite. He pushed aside the roasted flatbread the savage women had meticulously prepared for him and cursed, “That damned native Shaman, he’s the stinking dog shit.”

Victor had said long ago that if Imosen were given enough time, his unique talent for Wizardry alone could raise a beastman Legion. It was precisely because he was wary of Imosen’s war potential that Victor had never cultivated Imosen’s leadership abilities, instead guiding him into the field of academia.

However, stranded in Bel’s Whimsical Forest without reinforcements, the Randall expedition team saw Imosen finally begin to unleash his war potential. With the family knight and Father Dayn devising strategies for him, he not only won over five medium and small savage tribes but also enslaved over three hundred Goblins, gnolls, and four Ogre Brutes, in addition to over two hundred aberrant cat-apes and an Aberrant Dire Bear. The power he now wielded left his companions secretly dumbfounded.

Most terrifying of all, he had learned how to design spell models, allowing him to cultivate Aberrant Beasts specifically tailored to the environment and practical needs. The aberrant cat-ape was the first spell model Imosen created. Recently, using the common rainforest horned frog, he had created his second Aberrant Beast spell model, cultivating four large amphibious Aberrant Beasts with Dynamic Vision and super-strong leaping abilities, named Horned Lizard-beasts.

According to Imosen’s design, the Horned Lizard-beast’s ultimate form could reach five meters in length and weigh over four hundred kilograms. It could leap over ten meters in a single pounce. Thanks to their Dynamic Vision, they excelled in mobile combat and were extremely formidable assault units. However, the Horned Lizard-beasts had low intelligence and couldn’t distinguish friend from foe, requiring Imosen to expend vigor to control them, lest they start killing one another. Furthermore, Horned Lizard-beasts couldn’t switch their modes of Perception like dragons, making it easy for them to overlook stationary targets.

If not for the limitations of meat resources, Imosen could have cultivated even more Horned Lizard-beasts. Despite the Horned Lizard-beast’s obvious flaws, the ignorant savages were in awe, seeing the common horned frog transformed into a ferocious monster by Imosen. They practically revered him as a god.

Just like that, Imosen became the great king of the Assyrian savages, as well as the leader of a host of Goblins, gnolls, and Ogres. The members of the expedition team felt a pressure emanating from the Wizard, even developing a sense of awe for him they had never felt before.

Now, seeing Imoson the Wizard fuming and cursing, the group couldn’t help but laugh. The intangible barrier between them dissipated amidst the shared mirth. Even the usually prim My Lady Charlotte couldn’t resist joking, “At least, the savages here already see you as ‘the most beautiful flower.’ Is Your Excellency Imosen planning to stay and be their great king?”

“This godforsaken place… spare me.”

Imosen shook his head with a wry smile, then changed the subject. “The natives’ myths and legends are simply absurd. Civilized humans have become a branch of the Assyrians, and the lowest of the low, the Rare People? If it weren’t for rescuing Bel, I wouldn’t have even bothered speaking to him. Besides, the Assyrian natives’ mythology is of no help in rescuing Bel.”

Charlotte said with a faint smile, “His Highness Randall enjoys collecting the myths and legends of the Other races.”

Father Dayn nodded and added, “The myths and legends of the Assyrian Empire reveal many a Secret History.”

Brandon exclaimed with an exaggerated look of shock, “Your Excellency Dayne, you can’t possibly believe the ravings of a native Shaman?”

Dayne smiled and explained, “Perhaps the origin myth of the Assyrian Empire should be viewed in reverse. The Assyrians are actually a branch of humanity, originally humans transformed by a powerful ancient Wizard. You must understand, ancient Wizards were accustomed to viewing themselves as the Chosen and were arrogant enough to disregard the opinions of mortals. Although we don’t know for what purpose he transformed a portion of ancient humans into Assyrians, we can imagine that those who were unwilling to be transformed, or whose transformations failed, would have certainly been ostracized by the Assyrians. Even if they were kin, the ancient Wizard would have had the Assyrians exclude other humans for the convenience of ruling.”

Imosen thought for a moment and nodded in agreement. “Put that way, it does seem quite reasonable…”

Dayne glanced at the Wizard revered by the savages and continued, “That ancient Wizard wouldn’t have gone so far as to transform himself into an Assyrian. The part of the myth about the Rare People giving birth to the most beautiful flower who becomes king of the Assyrian Empire is actually a reference to the Wizard himself, or a way to make it convenient for his fellow Wizards or students to take over the Assyrian Empire.”

“That would explain why the legendary paladin from the Trigoval family was received with such courtesy by the Assyrian Wizard King one thousand five hundred years ago.”

Klaus asked, puzzled, “But the legendary paladin of the Trigoval family wasn’t a Wizard.”

“None of us know what the human kingdoms were like before the Era of the Chosen. But at least during the Era of the Chosen, the relationship between Knight families and Wizards was extremely close.”

Charlotte’s green eyes shifted slightly as she mused, “How do the Assyrian Shamans determine who is a Wizard and who is a High-ranked Knight?”

Imosen chuckled smugly. “Esteemed master Dayne and I have already asked the old Shaman Tumen about this. He said that Shamans have a Spirit Sight Art, which allows them to see the light of spirituality. Beldina’s spirituality is pure and flawless, perfectly meeting the Assyrian Empire’s highest standard for spirituality. Therefore, Bel is ‘the most beautiful flower.’ Although I have a talent for Wizardry, my spirituality is useless to the Assyrian Shamans… According to Shaman Tumen, when Beldina entered the city, all the Shamans presented her with tribute. No one questioned her identity. She is the most beautiful flower of legend, the king of the Assyrians.”

Brandon couldn’t hide his excitement. “Since the descendants of the Assyrian Empire recognize Bel as their king, could we try a different approach? Help Beldina rule the Assyrians and turn the natives’ power to our own use, for example, using them to hold back, or even eliminate, the Ant-man army?”

Dayne feared the members of House of Randell would entertain improper ideas. The Assyrian Empire was different from the Elven Empire. Although the elves worshipped the Moon Tree and the Sun Tree, their worship did not generate power; the blessings of divine arts came from the trees themselves. But the Assyrians looked very much like humans, and not only did they have an evil faith, but they could also gain extraordinary power from that faith. From any perspective, the Radiant Church could not tolerate these heretics. An alliance was out of the question; if the Assyrians so much as moved their homes near the human kingdoms, the Radiant Church would have to consider how to launch a crusade against them.

“It’s not that simple. Bel is just a naive and innocent young lady. She can’t outwit a pack of cunning and cruel Assyrian Shamans. Even if they place Bel on the throne, they will find ways to make her act according to their will.” Father Dayn said bluntly, “The relationship between the Eleanoro royal family of the Kingdom of Sus and the six great families is a perfect example, is it not?”

Seeing the priest’s sour expression, Brandon shrugged his shoulders and said tactfully, “Alright, just pretend I didn’t say anything.”

A chill fell over the expedition team’s conversation for a moment. Charlotte spoke in a gentle voice, “Regardless, we must make contact with Beldina… Great Shaman Tumen is very useful to us. Don’t let the savages take his head, and don’t let him escape. He is, after all, a Legendary-rank spellcaster.”

Imosen chimed in, “My Lady, please rest assured. I’ve had the Aberrant Dire Bear prevent the savage headhunters from getting near Tumen’s cell. Lord Narsen and Caligula are taking turns watching him. The moment he gets any funny ideas, the lordship and Aka will knock him unconscious. His spells are useless, no matter how powerful.”

This was true. Having reached the realm of the Touch of the Mind, a Ferocious warrior transcended the mundane in a way no mortal could comprehend. The instant a spellcaster’s thoughts stirred, they would strike and knock the person out. Even so-called instant-cast spells were useless, because a Ferocious warrior who had mastered the Touch of the Mind didn’t just use their fists; the projection of their mind power was enough to interrupt a Shaman’s spellcasting. With Caligula and Narsen watching Great Shaman Tumen, he would be perpetually unconscious if he tried to use spells to escape.

Charlotte nodded, her gaze shifting to Father Dayne. “I trust that Shaman Tumen cannot lie in front of Your Excellency.”

Dayne traced a holy symbol over his chest and recited demurely, “The Light shines, and lies find no purchase.”

“Tumen cannot deceive Your Excellency, but he can withhold key information.” Charlotte paused in thought for a moment before asking, “So, what is Tumen’s proposal?”

Imosen answered, “He says he is a Great Shaman loyal to Bel and hopes we will let him go back. He is willing to confirm our identities with Bel and tell her that we are looking for her. If Bel wishes to see us, he will obey Bel’s will and bring us to her.” The Wizard then added, “Great Shaman Tumen is telling the truth. He truly sees himself as Beldina’s confidant and has no intention of defying Bel’s wishes.”

“So, you want to let him go and use him to contact Bel?” Charlotte asked with a hint of a smile.

Imosen glanced at Father Dayne and said tentatively, “I… I don’t completely trust him. I can have a macaw secretly follow Shaman Tumen. once I find Bel’s location, I can contact her.”

“If I were the leader of the Assyrian Shamans, I would have Beldina’s location so heavily guarded that not even a bird could fly in.”

Charlotte’s willow-like brows arched slightly. She picked up two fruits from the platter, placed them on the table, and said, “Great Shaman Tumen knows Beldina. This fruit represents his bargaining chip. We control Tumen’s life and death. This fruit represents our bargaining chip. If we just let Tumen go like this, our chip is gone, but his remains. The scales tip in Tumen’s favor. I don’t believe he will honor the agreement. I can even think of a way for Tumen to deal with us… First, he goes to someone with real power among the Assyrian Shamans and confesses everything. Then, what happens next is no longer his responsibility. Whether the descendants of the Assyrian Empire hunt us down or conceal the news from Beldina, it has nothing to do with Tumen, and he wouldn’t be betraying Queen Beldina.”

Imosen leaned back in his chair and sighed with a troubled expression. “What should we do then?”

“Everyone, think. If His Highness encountered this situation, what would he do?” Charlotte said, her chin resting on her hand, her eyes distant.

“His Highness? His Highness would just kill his way through… but we can’t do that,” Brandon muttered.

Klaus, however, shook his head and said, “His Highness never acts recklessly. If he were to kill his way through, it would only be because that was the best solution… I think, given the current situation, Tumen is still the key to solving our problem. But not him as an individual, but the faction he represents.”

“The faction he represents? What does that mean?” Imosen leaned forward, asking in confusion.

Klaus smiled slightly and explained, “His Highness once said that those in power cannot betray the faction or camp to which their own interests are closely tied. Great Shaman Tumen is a Legendary-rank spellcaster; he must also hold authority within the Assyrian Empire. He may not honor an agreement with us, but he must protect his own faction.”

Father Dayne slapped the table. His eyes lit up as he exclaimed loudly, “Excellent! Klaus’s words have made me realize something.”

Imosen pressed, “Realize what?”

“Didn’t Great Shaman Tumen ask to see Xinu? Let them meet, and we will listen in.”

Tumen was escorted by Narsen into a thatched hut. Inside were the one-armed old savage, Beldina’s father, and Xinu. His gaze was fixed solely on Xinu.

Imosen coughed and said nonchalantly, “You wanted to see Xinu. I’ve let you see him.”

Tumen knew Imosen wouldn’t leave the hut and allow him to be alone with the traitor. He asked directly, “Xinu, where are the others?”

The burly slave trader, his face painted with the same white ash as the savages, remained silent for a moment before speaking. “Besides you, everyone else has gone to the Realm of All Spirits. The Master’s Giant protected you, but Crocodile Tail of the Tumen family was beheaded by the savages. The others fought to the death and met the same fate as Crocodile Tail.”

“I knew this would happen. In my youth, I was also in the slaving business. You either capture savages or get your head hunted by them.” Tumen sighed at length, then demanded, “You will one day go to the Realm of All Spirits yourself. Why did you betray us? Do you not fear the punishment of the Ancestral Spirits?”

Xinu said, “My grandfather held a Private Sacrifice, hoping to please my family’s Ancestral Spirit, but the Ancestral Spirit did not answer. My father held a Private Sacrifice, and my family’s Ancestral Spirit still did not answer. This wasn’t unique to my family. The House of Lingye, the House of Dudu, none of the families that held Private Sacrifices received a response from their Ancestral Spirits. You Shamans tell us there are Ancestral Spirits? Even Great King Mokemo didn’t believe it.”

During the period when Great King Mokemo was in power, the Shaman class was in a pitiful state. In contrast, Great King Mokemo was beloved by the Warrior class. Take the Slaver party, for example. Capturing savages was firstly to plunder the wealth of the savage tribes, and secondly to sell the savages as slaves. Only a small number were actually used for Blood Sacrifice, and even then, it was Great King Mokemo who paid for the sacrificial offerings. Of course, Great King Mokemo was just a microcosm of the Assyrian authorities; they grew increasingly indifferent to Blood Sacrifice and resented the Shaman class bossing them around. The great kings of the Assyrians preferred to turn savages into slaves. Due to the abundant labor, the Assyrian settlements gradually prospered, and their population recovered to over four hundred thousand, and that wasn’t including the even more numerous savage tribes.

The Warrior families grew rich, while the Shamans’ situation became increasingly difficult. The conflict between them and Great King Mokemo grew sharper by the day, reaching the point of bitter hatred.

Before Tumen recovered his strength, he was often bullied by the Warrior families. He laid all this blame at Great King Mokemo’s feet. He said coldly, “Xinu, you are as foolish as Mokemo!”

Xinu nodded. “Yes, the Queen proved the great power of the Ancestral Spirits, and Great King Mokemo lost his head. That night, it wasn’t just Great King Mokemo who lost his head. My brother and little brother, the King’s trusted warriors, lost their heads along with the King. If I hadn’t offered the better part of my fortune to the Queen, my head would have been gone too. Great Shaman Tumen, I just want to know, if people like us were to go to the Realm of All Spirits now, would the Ancestral Spirits protect us, or punish us?”

Did that question even need to be asked?

The Realm of All Spirits had only one Ancestral Spirit, the Pale Sovereign. Let alone Xinu, even if Tumen himself went to the Realm of All Spirits, he would be treated as food by the Pale Sovereign, with absolutely no chance of resurrection.

Xinu didn’t know the situation in the Realm of All Spirits, but he understood that his family had offended the Shamans in the past. That meant offending the Ancestral Spirits, and going to the Realm of All Spirits now would certainly not end well for him.

“I wanted to atone for my crimes, but alas, I’ve lost the chance.” Xinu tapped his chest. “I have to protect my son, just as Great King Imosen wants to find his daughter. I’ve surrendered. I’ll just be a savage from now on. In any case, there are many exiled Assyrians, and they all end up becoming savages.”

Tumen used his Spirit Sight Art and saw the phantom of a spider squatting over Xinu’s heart. He looked at the one-armed old Shaman and said coldly, “A Voodoo Spider? You actually survived.”

The old savage said faintly, “My name is Rear-Eye. I am the son of Middle-Eye. We have hunted in this forest for generations. More than twenty years ago, your Slaver party attacked my tribe. While the slavers were resting, a tiger bit off my arm, and I escaped. My wound bled ceaselessly, my blood spilling in the forest. The Slaver party sent five men after me. In the end, I fell into a quagmire. They thought I was dead, but I wasn’t. The mud helped stop the bleeding, and it also allowed me to see the ‘hole’ in my chest.”

“Hole?”

“Yes, the hole in my chest. Fear lived in that hole. I took the fear out of my heart, and it became a spirit spider. From then on, I no longer felt fear. I hunted down those five slavers and killed them one by one in the jungle.”

“You have a hole in your heart too. I can see it.” The old savage slowly approached, pointing his single arm at Tumen’s chest. “Greed lives inside it. This hole will grow larger and larger, until it pierces through you and devours you.”

With the old savage’s words, a multi-colored spider crawled out of Beast Spirit Warrior Xinu’s chest. Ethereal and indistinct, it flew to the old savage’s shoulder, then scurried down his arm and burrowed into Great Shaman Tumen’s chest.

Voodoo was a rather troublesome spell-like ability. Even an Ancestral Great Shaman was helpless against a savage’s Voodoo. The only solution was to perform a self-sacrifice ritual and go to the Realm of All Spirits as soon as possible, otherwise the Voodoo would devour the victim’s soul. For an Assyrian, this was more terrifying than death.

However, Great Shaman Tumen had already been able to determine that the insidious and treacherous Voodoo was actually a type of Nature Spirit. He was confident he could remove the Voodoo, it would just take some time. If he couldn’t, Queen Beldina would definitely be able to help him remove the Voodoo curse.

Being cursed with Voodoo by a savage was hardly cause for celebration. Tumen snorted coldly, “Voodoo feeds on souls. How have you lived so long while raising one?”

The old savage opened his mouth, revealing only a few remaining teeth, and smiled. “I’ve drunk from the Spirit Essence Water. Although it was only a few drops, not enough to regrow my arm, it was enough to feed the spirit spider.”

The conversation between the Great Shaman and the Beast Spirit Warrior helped the expedition team see the conflicts within Assyrian society, including the conflict between the Assyrians and the savages, and the internal conflicts among the Assyrians themselves.

Next, the family knights and the priest purposefully questioned Tumen and Xinu, finally finding a thread in the tangled mess.

“Great King Mokemo’s core supporters were purged by Queen Harenadak for five straight days, yet they still control a great deal of wealth and private soldiers. The newly empowered Assyrian Shamans used brutal methods to intimidate the Warriors, and then used the power of Beast Spirits to sow division among them. But neither the traditional Assyrian Warriors nor the newly risen Beast Spirit Warriors have entered the core of the Assyrian Empire’s power structure. They don’t even know that the Assyrian Shamans have welcomed a new Queen.”

“The Assyrians are in a crucial period of transformation. It appears stable on the surface, but in reality, the internal distribution of interests is uneven. If the Assyrian Warrior class finds out about Bel, Great King Mokemo’s descendants would surely not be able to sit still. They fear being turned into sacrificial offerings for the new king’s accession and would certainly incite a rebellion among the Assyrian Warriors.”

Hearing this, Imosen couldn’t help but press Father Dayne, “Mokemo’s sons would harm Bel?”

Dayne paused for a moment before explaining, “That is a certainty. If Beldina inherits the throne, they become useless. They can be killed, exiled, or simply ignored. But they will absolutely not just wait to die.”

“Then… should we find a way to kill them first?”

Charlotte shook her head and interjected, “The old king’s offspring don’t have the ability to harm Beldina. The key is Great Shaman Tumen. He is a leading figure among the Shamans, but he will not betray the Shaman class. Killing Great King Mokemo’s descendants preemptively is not in the Assyrian Shamans’ interests; on the contrary, it would ignite the conflict between the Warriors and Shamans and cause internal turmoil. Therefore, we must find a way to make Tumen unwittingly act according to our plan.”

Narsen asked with great interest, “My Lady, what is our plan?”

Charlotte smiled. “The same plan as before: create chaos, infiltrate the Assyrian city, and find Beldina. Specifically, we will gather the savage headhunters, attack the Assyrian settlements, and use external conflict to divert the internal conflicts of the Assyrian city. This will force the Shaman Queen to dispatch her vast number of Assyrian Warriors out of the city to quell the savage unrest. This move completely aligns with the common interests of both the Shamans and the Warriors, yet it leaves the city’s defenses empty. If Tumen wants to seize greater power, he will beat them at their own game, urging the Shaman Queen to lead the troops in person, or he himself will lead the expedition to seize military authority. It doesn’t matter to us which the Shaman Queen chooses, but it will inevitably deepen the rift between her and Tumen. When his own feet are to the fire, Tumen might take the initiative to seek cooperation with Queen Bel’s father, or at the very least, he won’t block off this escape route. However, once this news reaches the Queen’s ears, the escape route he left for himself becomes evidence of his betrayal. He’ll have no choice but to cooperate!”

Imosen clapped his hands and laughed, “A brilliant plan!”

Narsen rubbed his chin and nodded. “To use the savages to attack the Assyrian settlements, we must win. From what I’ve seen, the savage headhunters are quite a bit weaker than the Assyrian slave soldiers. It takes three or four savages to take on one well-trained Assyrian slave soldier. We need to rally more savage tribes.”

Imoson the Wizard once again volunteered, “Leave this to me. For anyone who dares to disobey, I’ll have the Ogres and Aberrant Beasts eat them.”

Dayne shook his head in refutation. “How is that any different from an Assyrian Slaver party? The savage tribes are already hostile to one another, constantly headhunting each other. Persuasion by words is useless, and if we rely on conquest, we’ll just get bogged down in a swamp of war with the savage tribes. The old savage Rear-Eye is willing to listen to you because you rescued them from the slavers, not because you conquered them by force.”

Charlotte nodded in agreement with the priest’s view, saying, “To rally the savages and forge them into a fighting force willing to follow us to attack the Assyrian settlements, relying on military coercion is far from enough. On one hand, we must continue to rescue savages from the slaver parties. On the other, it would be best if we could find that Fountain of Youth that Rear-Eye mentioned.”

“As long as we can occupy a Fountain of Youth, the savage tribes will be drawn to us and serve our cause!”

Chapter 855: The High-Level Ant-man in the Fantastical Forest

“The Fountain of Youth appears and disappears at random; its time and location are never certain. The one the savage encountered over twenty years ago is long gone by now. Wizard King Imosen, don’t let Rear-Eye fool you.”

Tumen was locked in a wicker cage, which was held in the hand of a large, fat, and dull-witted Giant. He swayed back and forth with every swing of the Giant’s arm. Though the bumpy ride was unpleasant, the Legendary-rank Assyrian Shaman persisted in speaking to Imosen.

Giants were dim-witted but immensely powerful, and Tumen was genuinely worried that it might mistake him for food and crush him to death. By constantly chatting with Imosen, he was reinforcing his own presence, hoping Imosen would keep an eye on his situation and control the Giant’s actions.

The entire Randall expedition team had set out, following Rear-Eye deep into the rainforest in search of the legendary Fountain of Youth. No one felt safe leaving the Legendary-rank Great Shaman alone at the savage camp; if he tried to escape, the savage headhunters would be powerless to stop him. So, Rear-Eye had Tumen put in a cage, which also served to give the high-and-mighty Assyrian Shaman a taste of his own past experience.

According to the descriptions from the savage, the Assyrian warrior Xinu, and the Great Shaman Tumen, the Fountain of Youth could enhance the Assyrian bloodline and strengthen one’s affinity for “spirits.” It held an irresistible allure for the Assyrians. If the Randall expedition team could control a Fountain of Youth, gathering the various savage tribes, large and small, would become remarkably easy.

Faced with Great Shaman Tumen’s slander, Rear-Eye retorted coolly, “Who said the Spirit Essence Water I found is the one from over twenty years ago? The spirit spiders I raise can naturally sense the location of Spirit Essence Water. I told the Great King Imosen this long ago.”

The catastrophe more than fifteen hundred years ago led to the fall of the Assyrian Empire. At that time, many high-ranking Shamans and Warriors died in the collapse of the temple. The Empire’s elite suffered a devastating blow, and although the Assyrian Shaman legacy was not severed, a great deal of precious knowledge was lost.

This was the first time Great Shaman Tumen had ever heard that a savage shaman’s Voodoo psionic energy could locate the Fountain of Youth.

However, he knew that the Fountain of Youth was, in fact, a manifestation of spiritual substance leaking from the Realm of All Spirits into the physical world. The savages called it Spirit Essence Water, and they also referred to Voodoo spirits as spirit beasts. It was genuinely possible that some special connection existed between the two. If Rear-Eye wasn’t lying, then the Voodoo spirits were immensely valuable, especially at a time when Queen Bel had torn open the Realm of All Spirits. Using Voodoo spirits to find the Fountain of Youth would be much more convenient.

Imosen had a “Rare People Shaman” by his side who could see through lies, a fact that had caused Tumen much suffering. Because of this, he believed Rear-Eye wasn’t lying about the Fountain of Youth. But, glancing at the savage shaman’s severed arm, he deliberately asked in a loud voice, “The Fountain of Youth can regenerate lost limbs. You say your Voodoo Spider found it, so how is it that you still have only one arm?”

The old savage Rear-Eye no longer paid the Great Shaman any mind, leaning back in his wicker chair to rest with his eyes closed. Both he and Tumen were old and frail, finding it difficult to travel long distances on their own. While Tumen was carried by an Ogre, he was seated in a comfortable palanquin-like wicker chair, carried in turns by several able-bodied Assyrian savages.

“Savage King” Imosen, on the other hand, was walking. He felt it was safer on his own two feet; if they were ambushed in the rainforest, it would be easier to dodge. Imosen had undergone body reconstruction once and had been practicing the Forging Method taught by His Highness Randell for a long time. His physical fitness surpassed even that of the native rainforest savages, so trekking on foot was no problem at all.

Tumen had been secretly observing this group of “Rare People.” They were mostly women, well-equipped, agile, and full of vigor. The team had been walking for two days, yet none of them were even breathing heavily. They were more formidable than Xinu’s elite private soldiers—in fact, far more so. Tumen estimated that every single one of them was no weaker than a Green Scale Warrior. Moreover, these “Rare People” were mostly handsome or beautiful. The blonde, blue-eyed female warrior, in particular, was one of the most stunning women he had ever seen, even with the white paint used for distinguishing friend from foe smeared on her face, obscuring her features. Her beauty and bearing would be considered top-tier even in any Assyrian city; only a handful of Assyrian women could compare to her.

In truth, Tumen could recognize some of the Rare People: Narsen, Brandon, Klaus, Rogers, and Red Wolf. These were the five companions Beldina had wanted to find. He and Harenadak had used Bel’s wish to set up a series of Trials to guide her toward becoming the queen of the Assyrian Empire. As for the others, Bel had never mentioned them, so Tumen paid them extra attention, hoping to glean more information from them.

Beldina appeared to be a cute young lady, but she was actually twenty-five years old. Having received the education of a noble’s handmaiden at Silver Moon Manor, not revealing family secrets was a most basic requirement. No matter how much Tumen and Harenadak tried to probe, she never spoke of her origins. Beldina’s spirit was of the utmost purity, and she could naturally influence the senses of an Assyrian Shaman. Whenever she threw a tantrum or acted spoiled, Tumen was at a loss for how to handle her.

When Imosen, claiming to be Bel’s father, showed up, Tumen was mostly convinced. This “Rare People” Great Shaman’s power was simply terrifying; he could enslave large numbers of monsters, Giants, and beastmen to fight for him. With such formidable strength, Great Shaman Imosen surely held a high position among the Rare People. His claim that Beldina was his daughter fit with Tumen’s general understanding.

Logically, it would not be an overstatement to say that Great Shaman Imosen was part of the Rare People’s royal family. In that case, the beautiful blonde woman should be his wife. Yet Tumen could see that the blonde woman held a Transcendent Status, and her behavior toward Great Shaman Imosen was not intimate. The group of Rare People seemed to respect the blonde woman even more than they respected Great Shaman Imosen.

This left Tumen completely baffled. A wave of anxiety washed over him; the situation with this Rare People tribe might be far more complex than he had imagined. What was infuriating was that the Pale Sovereign had only said that Beldina was key to reviving the Empire but had not revealed her origins. It would be a disaster if this group of Rare People and the power behind them intended to use Beldina to seize the Assyrian Empire’s status as the true line.

There was a tale among the Assyrian Shamans that the temple disaster fifteen hundred years ago was caused by a group of Rare People outsiders. However, too much time had passed. The Assyrian descendants of today rarely spoke of that historic catastrophe. Even a shaman like Tumen had no personal connection to it, much less any reason to harbor hatred for the Rare People because of it.

The problem was, after the Assyrian Empire was revived, who would be in charge?

Tumen believed that Beldina had the right to rule the Assyrian Empire, but the Purple Scale, Blue Scale, and Scaleless Assyrians should be ranked above the Rare People. But if the Rare People force backing Great Shaman Imosen was extremely large and they, in turn, wanted to lord it over the scaled Assyrians, Tumen would absolutely not accept it. No Assyrian would.

His mind filled with worries, Great Shaman Tumen fell silent. After an unknown amount of time, the party suddenly stopped. He saw the Rare People draw their weapons, their expressions cautious as they took up defensive positions. The leaders gathered together, discussing something in a language he couldn’t understand.

After a moment, Imosen turned to the old savage Rear-Eye and asked, “How much farther to the Fountain of Youth you discovered?”

Rear-Eye surveyed the surroundings and answered, “It should be less than half a day’s journey from here.”

“But my allies can already sense danger,” Imosen said with a frown, pondering. “Tell me again what you encountered back then.”

The old savage had two headhunters lower him to the ground. He recalled seriously and said, “Over a hundred days ago, I felt the restlessness of my spirit spider, so I took a team of headhunters and followed the spirit’s guidance to find the Spirit Essence Water. When we got to the area ahead, we found the forest had vanished, leaving only a clearing covered in humus and moss. The spirit spider told me the precious Spirit Essence Water was just beyond that patch of humus, but I didn’t dare go forward…” As he spoke, a hint of hesitation crossed his face. He paused, then continued, “I sent my spirit spider out. It drank some of the Spirit Essence Water. Pig-Tooth and his brother couldn’t hold back and tried to run in to find the spring. They stepped onto the humus, and before they got far, a swarm of strange beetles emerged from the ground. They pounced on Pig-Tooth and his brother… We watched as the two of them were devoured, leaving only bones. Everyone else was terrified and carried me back. I was worried the others would also succumb to the temptation of the Spirit Essence Water and end up eaten by the insects like Pig-Tooth and his brother, so I told everyone who was there not to mention the Spirit Essence Water again, just that Pig-Tooth and his brother had gotten lost.”

Tumen understood the old savage’s words. He shouted from his cage, “Wizard King Imosen, can you let me out? I can be of assistance.”

Imosen first glanced at the Great Shaman, then discussed with the other Rare People leaders for a few moments. He then walked over to Tumen and said through the bars of the cage, “You won’t try to escape, will you?”

The old shaman couldn’t help but laugh. “With the Fountain of Youth nearby, I would never choose to run. I still wish to regain my youth, extend my life, and continue to serve under Her Majesty Queen Beldina.”

Imosen gave Tao De a meaningful look. The Ghostface swordsman stepped forward, and the Adamantine longsword in his hand blurred for an instant. Before Tumen could understand what had happened, the wicker cage split silently into four pieces. The ground gave way beneath him, and just as he was about to fall, the Rare People warrior caught his elbow, steadying him on his feet.

The Ogre Brute lifted the remaining half of the cage, blinking its small eyes, its ugly face filled with confusion. It then began to babble “Oowah, oowah” in the Ogre tongue, as if trying to explain itself to its Master Imosen.

“Shut up. I’ll give you meat. If you make any more noise, Aka will come over and beat you up!”

Caligula cooperatively balled his fists, putting on a fierce expression. The Ogre Brute immediately fell silent, clamping its mouth shut and standing perfectly still and obedient.

The party continued onward. After about two hours, the Savage Warhound White Bread suddenly blocked Imosen’s path, a low whine rumbling in its throat, warning its master of the danger ahead. The four Ogre Brutes also stopped, babbling that they dared not go any further.

There was strength in numbers, and Imosen’s team was formidable, which should have weakened the danger sense of the Ogre Brutes and the Savage Warhound. The fact that they were all detecting danger now meant that the source of it was powerful enough to wipe out their entire party!

Narsen struck his twin swords together. The clang of the blades seemed to carry a kind of spiritual power, calming the Ogres and the warhound. He said calmly, “There’s a very powerful fellow up ahead… We’ve come this far, we have to go take a look.”

Tao De, ever perceptive, rested his hand on his sword hilt and asked Narsen, “My lord, are you saying that since we’re already this close to the danger, we lack the ability to escape, so we might as well go see what it is?”

Narsen chuckled and shook his head. “Besides my Master and Lady Sylvia, I can’t think of anyone who could keep all of us here… Don’t worry. Although it’s dangerous ahead, and there’s probably a Legendary-rank enemy, I can feel that its danger is territorial. It won’t matter if we just take a peek from the periphery.”

The invisible pressure instantly dissolved. Dayne inwardly mocked himself. If they were facing an opponent on the level of the Raging Wind Sword Saint, they wouldn’t have been allowed to get this close. Such an enemy would have likely intercepted or intimidated them long ago. After all, the expedition team’s strength far surpassed that of Chief Rear-Eye and his headhunters. The unknown entity could ignore the savages, but it had to take the expedition team seriously. To prevent anyone from coveting the Fountain of Youth, it should have appeared to drive them off or kill them. Since the opponent had yet to reveal itself, Narsen’s intuition about the danger being territorial was likely accurate.

The priest reached out and pushed aside the tall clumps of wormwood pressed against his face, smiling relaxedly. “With the brave Aka here, nobody needs to worry.”

Caligula had been a Gold-rank Ferocious Warrior for a long time. He had once received a gift from the Radiant God of War in the Northern Wildlands. No one knew exactly how strong Caligula was, but he was definitely more powerful than Narsen. Dayne believed that with his divine arts supporting Aka, he could reach Legendary-rank, perhaps even surpassing His Highness Randell’s Dragonkin handmaiden.

Caligula was already beaming. He puffed out his chest and stomach and declared, “Aka knows who is up ahead! It’s that white ant that followed Master, named Ann… She’s even more powerful than the War Ant King now, but Aka isn’t afraid of her!”

Over here, Aka was vowing he wasn’t afraid; over there, the other members of the expedition team erupted into chaos.

“What?! The high-level Ant-man Ann has taken over this Fountain of Youth?”

“Aka, how do you know it’s the high-level Ant-man Ann?”

“Aka, are you sure she’s even more powerful than the War Ant King?”

High-level Ant-men were considered barely Gold-rank monsters, mainly because their psionic force fields were so effective against physical damage; their actual combat skills were average. The expedition team hadn’t paid much attention to Ann, only finding it a bit odd that His Highness Randell kept her around. But the impression the War Ant King had left on them was too profound. Both the berserk giant ape Philip II and the Dragon Lady Laila had fallen to it, and it had since become a lingering shadow in everyone’s minds. And His Highness Randell had said that the War Ant King was merely a juvenile, killed by him in a single blow long before it reached its peak power.

Now, not only had the high-level Ant-man Ann entered Bel’s Whimsical Forest and occupied the Fountain of Youth, but Caligula was claiming she was even stronger than the War Ant King. With the exception of Narsen and the others who had never witnessed the War Ant King, people like Imosen, Dayne, Blood Python Macy, and Swordsman Tao De were already entertaining thoughts of retreat.

“Quiet,” Charlotte commanded, silencing the commotion. She spoke in a human language, not worried that the savage and the shaman would understand. “Caligula has seen the white-armored Ant-man Ann from a distance before. He can remember her aura, so he shouldn’t be wrong… However, there may be another reason why Aka says he isn’t afraid of the high-level Ant-man Ann.”

She thought for a moment, then said hesitantly, “Before I entered Bel’s Whimsical Forest, Master told me that the high-level Ant-man Ann has left the ant swarms. She is not our mortal enemy, because Master taught me a method to restrain her… However, she may have mutated. According to Master, both Assyrians and Ant-men originate from the Ancient God, the King of the Spirit Realm. If the Fountain of Youth can enhance the bloodline power of the Assyrians, it might have the same effect on Ann. I can’t be sure now if the method to restrain Ann will still work…”

Charlotte glanced at the old savage Rear-Eye and the Great Shaman Tumen, then said thoughtfully, “We can observe. Let the Assyrian Shaman and the savage shaman test the waters first.”

Chapter 856: The Gros Queen

In the summer rainforest, plants grew with astonishing speed. Layers upon layers of vegetation obscured one’s vision, limiting the line of sight for even a Gold-rank Ferocious Warrior to no more than a hundred meters. As Narsen and his group pushed aside a patch of mugwort that stood over two meters tall, it was as if they had discovered another world. The sight before them left them all stunned.

Barren and empty, not a single green plant could be seen. There was only the decayed detritus of grass and trees, rotted into mud and piled into a thick layer of humus that stretched beyond the reach of their sight. Black beetles crawled in and out of the humus. They were dome-shaped, as large as an adult’s fist, their carapaces gleaming with a metallic luster, their mandibles like a pair of sharp little guillotines.

“Devil Beetles!” the old savage Rear-Eye said, his expression grave. “Don’t be fooled by their small size. They are surprisingly strong and agile, and they can even fly for a short distance. My Brother Pig-Tooth was considered a strongman in our tribe, but even he couldn’t stomp a single Devil Beetle flat, nor could he kill them with a stone hammer. A thousand of them swarmed him, and in no time, they had gnawed my Brother Pig-Tooth down to two white skeletons. The trees in the surrounding rainforest were all chewed down by these Devil Beetles… The last time I was here, the rotten earth didn’t cover such a large area. I could still clearly see the Spirit Essence Water and a cave next to it.”

Narsen, Klaus, and the others who had participated in the battle at the temple exchanged glances. These black beetles looked familiar. Brandon spoke up, “Don’t you guys think these beetles look a lot like the Mother of Plague Beetles from the second level of Asoerta Temple?”

“The Mother of Plague Beetles?” Dayne asked, turning his head. “Didn’t you say that Karkinos, the Mother of Plague Beetles on the second level of Asoerta Temple, was a colossal, semi-elementalized monster?”

Klaus explained, “At the time, the Mother of Plague Beetles had just awakened when she was killed by the combined efforts of Lady Fugerui and Lady Mewen. Lady Fugerui lured the Mother Beetle into ramming its head against a wall, and Lady Mewen seized the opportunity to use our Master’s combat technique, Azure Blade, to slice open the Mother Beetle’s vulnerable abdomen. It wasn’t until the Elven Empire’s elite forces broke through to the second-level platform that Lady Mewen discovered the elves were being attacked by a swarm of Plague Beetles, and several combat professionals had died. In truth, many Plague Beetles were buried beneath the sand of the platform. Because the Mother Beetle died too quickly, she didn’t have time to summon her swarm. The Plague Beetles, intimidated by the two ladies’ Dragon’s Might, never crawled out from the sand to attack us. Otherwise, we would have been in big trouble.”

Charlotte asked, “Are the Plague Beetles that terrifying?”

Narsen chimed in, “None of us saw them with our own eyes, but Lady Mewen said the Plague Beetles are very difficult to deal with. The elf and Dwarf combat professionals couldn’t kill them in a single blow with their weapons. They’re also agile with sharp mandibles that can chew through the heavy armor of the Dwarf guards. However…”

Narsen paused, then shook his head. “According to Lady Mewen’s description, the Plague Beetles were as large as a child’s head. The beetles here match her description in appearance, but they are clearly much smaller.”

“I must see for myself what’s so special about these black beetles.” Imosen turned to his Hobgoblin thrall and ordered it to send a Bugbear to capture one.

The Bugbear, with its extremely low intelligence and inability to even speak, still understood how to obey the Hobgoblin’s command. It rushed out eagerly, sniffing the air with its nose. It dug a large, glistening white worm out of the humus, stuffed it directly into its mouth, and swallowed it whole.

It did not attempt to capture a black beetle as Imosen had hoped. After devouring one large worm, it continued to search for more, wandering farther and farther away.

Just as Imosen was about to vent his anger at the Hobgoblin thrall, he noticed that “White Bread” and the Ogres were all staring in the Bugbear’s direction, swallowing their saliva frantically. They coveted the large worms the Bugbear had found, but the danger sense of a ferocious creature made them resist the temptation of the food.

The worms in the humus held a powerful attraction for the Bugbear, so much so that it forgot the Hobgoblin’s orders. Imosen decided to continue observing this unusual phenomenon, watching the Bugbear venture deeper into the barren land.

The worms were clearly more abundant deeper within the barren land. Relying on its keen sense of smell, the Bugbear could unearth a fat worm with just a few casual scrapes. However, it accidentally grabbed a black beetle, as if prodding a hornet’s nest. Hundreds of the black-shelled beetles, each the size of a man’s fist, swarmed over. They descended upon the Bugbear, using their powerful jaws to tear open the invader’s skin and burrow into its body to devour its flesh and blood. The Bugbear let out a series of miserable shrieks, flailing desperately, grabbing the black beetles and putting them in its mouth to crush them with its teeth. This was the only way it could harm the black beetles, but it only attracted more of them.

A dense mass of black beetles drowned the gluttonous and foolish Bugbear like a tide. A moment later, they dispersed on their own, leaving behind only the tattered, white skeleton of a Bugbear.

Seeing this, everyone’s expression turned exceptionally grave. Bugbears were not tall, but their skin was tough, their muscles were like sinew, and their strength was three times that of an ordinary person; they were a type of monster known for Vital Tenacity. It was no easy task for well-trained militia to pierce a Bugbear’s body with a wooden-handled spear, yet the black beetles had devoured one down to the bone in an instant. The worst part was that the Bugbear’s brute strength couldn’t even crush the black beetles. It had only managed to kill three or four by biting them before its flesh and organs were consumed by the swarm.

The black beetles were small, could fly, and were extraordinarily tough. They could easily break through a warrior’s blockade, posing the greatest threat to a spellcaster like Imosen.

The humus-covered wasteland was at least one hundred square kilometers in size. Who knew how many black beetles were hidden within it.

The death of one Bugbear was nothing, but Imosen’s aberrant cat-apes were irreplaceable, and their individual strength was even less than a Bugbear’s.

Imosen had no desire to offer his aberrant war beasts as a meal for the black beetles. With a somber face, he said, “We have to find the right way to deal with these black beetles… Rear-Eye, Xinu, can you two find a way to bring me back a live one?”

The old savage and Xinu exchanged a look, neither saying a word. This was a deadly mission. Sending their subordinates to capture a black beetle would most likely end in the same fate as the Bugbear. In the end, it was the old savage who spoke up. “I’ll try first. If I can’t do it, Xinu can think of something else.”

He summoned the colorful, corporeal yet intangible spirit spider from Tumen’s chest. He controlled it to float toward the barren land, lock onto a black beetle, and burrow into its body. The black beetle possessed by the spirit beast scurried quickly toward the edge of the rainforest, not alarming any of its kin.

When Imosen received the live black beetle specimen, his face grew even uglier. He shook his head and said, “This is not an insect, nor does it possess wisdom. My abilities are useless against these black beetles.”

Since he couldn’t use his Wizardry on the black beetles, he had no way to peer into their mysteries by corrupting their souls to find their weaknesses.

The Randall expedition team could only remain in the rainforest and use conventional means to learn more about the ferocious black beetles. Fortunately, Rear-Eye’s spirit spider could steal black beetles without alarming the swarm, so the expedition team had no shortage of experimental subjects. Relying on his rich knowledge of monsterology, Imosen gained some understanding of the black beetles, the large worms, and the barren land.

Three days later, at dusk, Caligula was roasting worm skewers over a campfire. The Savage Warhound, “White Bread,” panted with its bright red tongue, wagging its tail incessantly at his feet. The four Ogre Brutes also stared intently at the worm skewers in Aka’s hands, drooling nonstop.

These large worms had been dug up from the edge of the barren land by the Ferocious Warrior Red Wolf. Their plump, round, white bodies were as thick as a man’s forearm and weighed between two and six pounds. They were true behemoths among worms, and their taste was exceptionally delicious, even causing a commotion among the Goblins. Imosen had to order his aberrant cat-apes to bite a few Goblins to death to get the green-skins to settle down. As for the four Ogres, after a harsh lesson from Caligula, they too had learned to wait patiently to be fed.

At this moment, Imosen stuffed a large, sizzling, fragrant worm into his mouth. He chewed a couple of times before swallowing it down, then said with satisfaction, “This kind of worm can be considered a rare delicacy… They are not the larvae of the black beetles; they are completely different species. They are like cattle and sheep being specially raised by the black beetles.”

“What does that mean?” Charlotte frowned slightly. The fact that roasted worms were so delicious made her feel a trace of shame; she was supposed to be disgusted.

Imosen, being a full-time scholar, paid no mind to the female knight’s subtle mentality. He enthusiastically explained, “The black beetles use their powerful jaws to shred all the rainforest plants for the large worms to eat. They then feed on these large worms, which are rich in active ingredients, forming an ecosystem similar to a pasture… Uh, ‘ecosystem’ and ‘active ingredients’ are academic concepts proposed by my Master. We won’t get into ecosystem, but active ingredients is a new concept from potion-making. Only a very few have read His Highness Randall’s academic work on the subject.” He pointed to his own nose and said with great pride, “I am one of those very few.”

Charlotte showed a gentle smile and nodded. “I have read it as well. His Highness is a recognized great scholar of the Silver Spire. The active ingredients he proposed refer to the effective components in drugs, plants, and animals—precious substances that possess life force.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Imoson the Wizard cut in, eagerly showing off his knowledge. “His Highness once asked me, are people who eat meat stronger, or are people who eat vegetables stronger? I said, of course, people who eat meat are physically stronger. Then he asked, so why do cows eat grass, yet grow such sturdy muscles?”

Father Dayn’s curiosity was piqued. He pressed, “What is the reason for that?”

Imosen said gleefully, “Actually, cows eat ‘meat’ too… They have several stomachs that allow the grass to produce more active substances. The cows absorb these active substances, so for them, eating grass is like eating meat. This discovery is of great significance. It directly changed the methods of potion-making, significantly improving the effects of potions. In fact, many rare medicinal ingredients help us enhance our Life’s Inner Potential because they have higher concentrations of active ingredients. For animals, especially Biological Aberrations, active ingredients are a necessity for them to change their life form. I referenced this principle when I designed the aberrant cat-apes; they can eat plants and fully utilize the active ingredients within.”

Itching with curiosity, Dayne asked again, “What kind of potion-making method is it?”

Imosen smiled and shook his head. “I am not a Potion Master, so I don’t know the specific method. You will have to ask His Highness Randall yourself in the future.”

Dayne was a little disappointed. He sighed and said, “So what does the fact that the large worms are rich in active ingredients have to do with us dealing with the black beetle swarm and taking the Fountain of Youth?”

Imosen grew serious. After a moment of silence, he said, “Goblins that eat these large worms rich in active ingredients can easily evolve into Hobgoblins or Bugbears. Since the black beetles feed exclusively on these large worms, I estimate that some of them can molt into larger, intelligent monsters of a higher level of life. They should be holed up in the cave right next to the Fountain of Youth, and their numbers might not be small.”

The black beetle swarm was already enough of a headache, and now there were even more powerful monsters around the Fountain of Youth. For a moment, a sense of powerlessness washed over everyone.

Charlotte, after all, was Victor’s close partner and knew far more of the Secret History than the others. Her willow-like brows furrowed as she said, “I understand. This barren land is a breeding ground. What we have to face might be the Gros Swarm, a species even older and more primitive than the Ant-men.”

“Could it be that the high-level Ant-man Ann has mutated into… a Gros Queen?”

Chapter 857: The Heart of Nature

Neither Victor nor the Ant-man Empress could personally enter Bel’s Whimsical Forest, so the Randall expedition team and the high-level Ant-man Ann acted as extensions of their will. Therefore, before the expedition team executed its rescue plan, Victor had made many preparations, including running deductions for various scenarios involving Ann.

Ann had already disconnected from the ant swarms. Of this, they were certain; otherwise, she would never have been able to enter Bel’s Whimsical Forest. But it was also beyond doubt that the Ant-man Empress had left some unknown measure on Ann. Victor’s deduction was that Ann would most likely provide the Ant-man Empress with a coordinate. Once the Empress dealt with the Pale Sovereign, causing the secret realm protecting the Assyrian settlement to fail, the ant swarms could use the coordinate provided by Ann to quickly lock onto and surround Beldina’s location.

Victor had secretly planted the seed of a mental suggestion deep within Ann’s mind. Charlotte could use this suggestion to induce Ann to send a false coordinate to the ant swarms at the critical moment. This was one of Victor’s methods to prevent the Ant-man Empress from seizing Beldina, as well as a measure for the Randall expedition team to avoid an encounter with the ant swarms.

However, Victor was not omniscient. He did not know that the Assyrian secret realm contained something like the Fountain of Youth, nor did he expect that Ann, by occupying a Fountain of Youth, would mutate into an ancient Gros Broodmother and develop her own swarm.

Victor’s knowledge of the Gros Insectoids was extremely limited. However, as Victor’s Sworn Knight, Charlotte had infiltrated the underground tunnels beneath Asoerta Temple. Victor had told her that the Undead Creatures they encountered in those tunnels—the Giant Shield Beetles, eight-legged insects, large tunneling insects, and so on—were very likely Gros Insectoid units.

After listening to Imosen the Wizard’s scholarly analysis, Charlotte concluded that the high-level Ant-man Ann had relied on the Fountain of Youth to establish a small Gros colony. In addition to the Black Beetles and Great Worms, she should have other insectoid units specifically for combat.

Narsen, however, believed that the unintelligent swarms of Black Beetles were the Randall expedition team’s biggest problem. He shrugged, polishing his beloved Adamantine beheading greatsword as he spoke. “I feel the danger here comes from the Black Beetle swarm and the high-level Ant-man Ann herself. As for other bugs, I don’t sense much… What do the rest of you feel?”

He was asking Macy, Red Wolf, and Rogers, three Ferocious warriors of different ranks.

Macy was the first to speak. “My perception of the source of the danger isn’t very clear, but hearing you say that, Lord Legion Commander, I do faintly sense pressure on different levels. The Black Beetle swarm is the greatest threat. Beyond that, deep in the wasteland, there is a danger that makes me feel suffocated. I feel if I were to face it head-on, I would have a hard time escaping. This should be that mutated high-level Ant-man.”

Red Wolf, also a Silver rank Ferocious warrior, agreed with Macy’s assessment. As for Rogers, he still couldn’t distinguish between the different levels and targets of the dangers.

The young family knight, Klaus, tried to explain, “Could it be that Lord Imosen’s pack of Aberrant Beasts is giving us a sense of security, canceling out the Ferocious warriors’ danger sense towards the insectoid combat units?”

Narsen slapped his thigh and said happily, “Right! That’s what I was trying to say. Even if the high-level Ant-man Ann has established a swarm with the miraculous power of the Fountain of Youth, she hasn’t been in here for long. How many big bugs could she have spawned? I believe Imosen’s Aberrant Beasts won’t lose to her bugs.”

“Lord Imosen’s pack of Aberrant Beasts might have the advantage for now. But if we give Ann more time to continue strengthening her insectoid claws, the consequences will be hard to predict,” Brandon added as a reminder.

Imosen hesitated. Seeing everyone’s gaze turn to him, he said sheepishly, “Every aberrant cat-ape that dies is one less, and there’s no way to replenish them right now… I could raise Horned Lizard-beasts, but their intelligence is low, and they require me to control their movements. I can only command around eighty of them at most. Plus, they only eat meat, so they aren’t as useful as the aberrant cat-apes… What I mean is, for the Fountain of Youth, is it worth us sacrificing a large number of aberrant cat-apes?”

The two hundred-plus aberrant cat-apes constituted the foundational military force in Imosen’s hands, used to intimidate and enslave Goblins, Gnolls, and Ogres. Furthermore, the greatest advantage of the aberrant cat-apes was that they didn’t occupy the Wizard’s vigor and could be used like warhounds, allowing Imosen to raise an additional batch of more powerful Horned Lizard-beasts.

The Randall expedition team was short on manpower. Their best option was to preserve the deterrent power of the aberrant cat-apes as much as possible and assist Imosen the Wizard in raising Horned Lizard-beasts to serve as cannon fodder. Of course, raising a large number of Horned Lizard-beasts would also consume time and meat resources for Imosen. Ann, on the other hand, possessed a Great Worm breeding ground; developing her swarm was easier for her than it was for Imosen to raise Horned Lizard-beasts.

Charlotte spoke immediately, “Time is on Ann’s side. The longer we delay, the larger her swarm will become. Everyone, don’t forget that the ant swarms are our competitors. Although Ann has separated from them, who can guarantee she isn’t still working for the Ant-man Empress? So, this isn’t about the Fountain of Youth. Since we’ve encountered Ann developing a swarm, we cannot just sit by and watch!”

A jolt went through Imosen’s heart. He gritted his teeth and said, “I understand. We need to rescue Beldina, and we can’t let this high-level Ant-man Ann play the spoiler!”

Father Dayn reached out and placed a hand on the Wizard’s shoulder. “Imosen, don’t be anxious. It would be great if we could occupy the Fountain of Youth, but it’s fine if we can’t. The Assyrians, however, are the ones who truly want it. Tumen the Great Shaman should be the one putting in the effort here. If we rope him into this operation, we won’t necessarily have to sacrifice a large number of Aberrant Beasts.”

Charlotte mused, “We might as well go ask Tumen if he’s thought of a way to counter the Black Beetle swarm. Also, he needs to make the necessary preparations to deal with the other bugs.”

Tumen was sitting next to Caligula. He could hear the Rare People’s leaders discussing something, but he couldn’t understand a word. When Imosen and his subordinates walked over, the old Shaman stood up. His mouth moved, wanting to say something, but no words came out.

The Fountain of Youth was especially important to Tumen. He was already old and decrepit, living one day at a time. Although he studied the quasi-spells of Nature Spirits and understood that death was an indispensable part of the natural cycle, he was unwilling to let the quasi-spell experience he had comprehended die with him. He yearned even more to pass on his understanding of Nature Spirits to Beldina, so she could carry it forward. If he could regain his youth, extend his longevity, and continue to assist Queen Bel, spreading the mysteries of nature in the Assyrian Empire, that would naturally be for the best.

Tumen was unwilling to give up on the Fountain of Youth. Even if he couldn’t occupy it, just a single sip of its water would be good enough. But right now, he was unable to act of his own free will, and the Rare People didn’t seem very enthusiastic about the nearby Fountain of Youth. They seemed more worried about the Black Beetles and were unwilling to take the risk.

Imosen walked upwind of the bonfire, avoiding the heat and smoke, and began, “Tumen, to be honest, we’ve never even heard of the Fountain of Youth. Its miraculous effects are just what you and Rear-Eye have claimed.”

It would be strange if the Rare People had heard of the Fountain of Youth… Tumen rejoiced inwardly, complaining internally for a moment before patiently explaining, “The Fountain of Youth is a gift from the All Spirits… The Assyrian Empire has experienced more than one disaster. Even one thousand five hundred years ago, it was fractured by a catastrophe, and many of our people were forced to leave the homeland they had lived in for generations. But only the Assyrians who remain close to the All Spirits are the true line of the Empire. The other clansmen lost the favor of the All Spirits and eventually became savages. They know nothing of the Fountain of Youth. As for Rear-Eye, he has personally experienced the Fountain’s magic, so of course he knows how precious it is.”

Imosen waved his arm forcefully, emphasizing, “I don’t care about the Fountain of Youth. I just want to find my daughter, Beldina.”

Tumen said, “I can understand your feelings, but our Queen is not necessarily your daughter…”

“Cut the nonsense!” Imosen glared at Tumen. “You claim to be a Shaman loyal to Bel. Then let’s make a deal. I’ll help you acquire the Fountain of Youth, and you help me contact Beldina. We’ll find out then whether the Queen you people abducted is my daughter or not.”

The Great Shaman was overjoyed. He nodded and said, “Fine, I can swear an oath to All Spirits, All Hallows…”

He wasn’t lying, so he didn’t fear Father Dayn’s Detect Lie divine art. But for a Nature Spirit Shaman, an oath to the Ancestral Spirits held no real binding power; he was simply misleading Imosen.

Imosen, however, cut him off. “I don’t trust your oaths, so save your breath… My allies have sensed other, more powerful bugs in the wasteland besides the Black Beetle swarm. You have to find a way to deal with them, or we’re leaving right now.”

Tumen was taken aback. He mused, “There are other bugs?”

“That’s right.” Imosen explained, “They are likely bugs that have metamorphosed from the Black Beetles. There may be quite a few of them, right in the caverns next to the Fountain of Youth. When we go to get the Fountain, they will most likely attack. Are you going to summon Man-eating flowers to deal with them?”

Wizardry was, in essence, the most primitive form of spell model. It was from the talent for Wizardry that ancient spellcasters developed spellcasting systems, including the system of divine arts. Therefore, both wizardry and divine arts relied on spell models to constrain the flow of extraordinary power and protect the soul of the spellcaster. The quasi-spells of the Assyrian Shaman, however, fell somewhere between wizardry and divine arts. They had no spell models of their own; the shaping of the quasi-spell was done by spirits, and the Shaman used the spirits to wield extraordinary power.

Due to this casting medium, a Shaman’s quasi-spells were more flexible and versatile, the process akin to making a wish and then receiving the result. While the extraordinary powers of Imosen and Dayne were unable to handle the Black Beetle swarm, Shaman Tumen could consult the Nature Spirits, who would help him find a suitable solution. However, Tumen was also influenced by the Nature Spirits. He had to win their favor to manifest more Flower Fey to help him cast his quasi-spells.

In short, as a Great Shaman of Nature Spirits, Tumen had to follow Nature’s Will and maintain natural balance. Otherwise, he would be spurned by the Nature Spirits, lose many of his Flower Fey, and his abilities would weaken.

In fact, during the last battle, Tumen’s animation of plants and summoning of Man-eating flowers had exhausted that patch of rainforest’s life seeds. For some time to come, that part of the rainforest would become barren. Tumen was thus punished by Nature’s Will; of his more than one hundred Flower Fey, only sixty-odd remained. His quasi-spell power was greatly diminished, but through this, he learned to revere nature and gained a deeper understanding of the Heart of Nature.

Nature emphasizes balance. Not only did the barren land lack the conditions to spawn Man-eating flowers, but even if it were possible, Tumen would not use them to deal with the swarm. However, through his communication with the Nature Spirits, he had found a targeted method.

For the next few days, Tumen muttered and whispered nonsensically to a great banyan tree. Even Imosen the Wizard couldn’t understand what he was saying to it. Everyone thought the old Shaman had lost his mind. But in fact, Tumen was communicating with dozens of Flower Fey, invisible to the naked eye. These lovely little things were not corporeal. They flew in and out of the great banyan tree, and the tree itself quietly began to undergo an Aberration.

That morning, Tumen completed his Nature Spirit quasi-spell. He had everyone, including the aberrant cat-apes and Ogre Brutes, take a small piece of vine from the great banyan tree and wrap it around themselves.

The Randall expedition team would not blindly trust a Legendary spellcaster. Imosen and Father Dayn tested the effect of the banyan vines multiple times using savages, beastmen, and aberrant cat-apes, finally selecting a sword-wielding handmaiden to participate in the test. The final results showed that as long as one wore the banyan vine from Tumen the Great Shaman, the Black Beetle swarms in the barren land would actively avoid the test subjects.

The Randall expedition team and their servant army finally set foot on the humus. The ground, composed of rotten wood pulp, was extremely soft. The savages and expedition members would sink up to their calves with each step, severely slowing the party’s advance. By noon, the humus had thinned, and the once-ubiquitous Black Beetle swarms had vanished. They finally saw a shimmering, emerald-green spring.

The expressions on the faces of Shaman Tumen, Xinu’s private soldiers, and the savages were all of excitement. If they weren’t surrounded by Imosen’s aberrant cat-apes, they would have certainly rushed towards that pool of water.

The Randall expedition team focused their attention on the entrance to a cavern not far from the spring. The high-level Ant-man Ann and her Gros Swarm were likely hiding inside that dark hole.

Imosen shouted, “No one is to touch the Fountain of Youth! Shaman Tumen, it’s your turn to cast your quasi-spells. Set up defenses around the Fountain first. You may only take water from the spring after I give my permission. Otherwise, my allies guarantee they will chop off the head of anyone who disobeys before they can get their hands on the water. Anyone who doesn’t believe me is welcome to try!”

The wills of Narsen and Caligula were almost tangible. The frigid killing intent was like a butcher’s knife pressed against their necks, making the Assyrians’ necks throb with a faint pain, as if they could be severed at any moment.

This almost visceral fear of death temporarily broke the Assyrians free from the lure of the Fountain of Youth. They followed their prior arrangements, setting up traps in preparation for the enemy. Tumen, meanwhile, took out some kind of plant seeds and scattered two circles of them around the Fountain. The seeds grew at a speed visible to the naked eye. Before long, a large thicket of thorns had sprouted around the Fountain, along with countless purple flower buds.

“Poison Burst Fruit? Tumen, are you trying to kill us all?”

Imosen grabbed Tumen’s arm and snarled. The Great Nature Spirit Shaman’s Poison Burst Fruit had left an extremely deep impression on him. If all these purple buds were to burst at once, an area with a two-kilometer radius would be enveloped in deadly poison spores. Imosen wasn’t sure what would happen to the others, but he was certain he would die.

The old Shaman didn’t have the strength to break free from Imosen’s grasp. He explained with a wry smile, “Wizard King Imosen, you misunderstand… The greatness of nature lies in balance and cycles. This barren land has been occupied by malevolent spirits. They destroy the forest and eliminate the seeds of life, but the Nature Spirits will deal with them—not through slaughter, but by re-establishing balance, allowing new seeds of life to sprout and turn this wasteland back into a forest. The process of natural balance is very long. I am using a Nature Spirit quasi-spell to accelerate this process, and for this, Nature’s Will rejoices.”

Most people wouldn’t understand what the old Shaman was trying to express, but Imosen could grasp his meaning.

Simply put, nature’s pan-consciousness would assimilate the insectoids in a way incomprehensible to ordinary people, turning them into a part of nature and healing the forest’s wounds. For example, a peculiar fungus might grow in the humus, becoming parasitic on the Black Beetles, altering their forest-destroying behavior and integrating them into the forest’s ecosystem. Or, entirely new plants might grow in the wasteland, producing toxins specifically targeting the Black Beetles and Great Worms, but harmless to other life.

Because their spell models were fixed, the Wizardry and divine arts of Imosen and Dayne had no significant effect on the Gros Swarm, but Nature’s Will could discern the weaknesses of an invasive species. The only issue was that the process of Nature’s Will assimilating the swarm was rather slow, whereas a Nature Spirit Shaman could accelerate it. If asked to explain the principles behind it, Tumen himself couldn’t. The Great Shaman was not a pan-conscious deity, after all; he was merely following the Heart of Nature, borrowing its great power in a limited way.

Imosen asked, half-convinced, “These Poison Burst Fruit are harmless to us?”

“These thorn bushes will repel the Black Beetle swarm. If the other bugs are indeed metamorphosed from Black Beetles, the thorns will work on them as well. If they try to force their way through the thorns, the Poison Burst Fruit will harm them, but not us.”

Hearing this, Imosen immediately grew anxious. “Whether the other bugs are from the Black Beetles is just our speculation. What if our speculation is wrong?”

“The Spirits of Nature have seen what you cannot see. Your speculation is not important,” the old Shaman said calmly. A faint glow, like that of a pious clergyman, emanated from his gaunt face.

Imosen turned around and saw Father Dayn give him a slight nod, indicating that Tumen was not lying. He then threatened Tumen, “If the Poison Burst Fruit harms us, my allies will chop off your head… You may go get the Fountain of Youth now.”

A relaxed smile finally appeared on the old Shaman’s face. He nodded and said, “Wizard King Imosen, after I drink from the Fountain of Youth, I will certainly hibernate and shed my skin. It will take some time before I awaken. I will not plot against you, because that would be harming myself.”

With an unfriendly expression, Imosen said, “Go on, then. If your quasi-spell works, we will protect you for now… Rear-Eye, Xinu, your people may also drink from the Fountain of Youth, but you must take turns.”

Dozens of Assyrians let out strange cries and ran toward the Fountain of Youth. Father Dayn stared at Tumen’s back for a moment, then said in a low voice, “Nature worship… It’s not entirely unacceptable.”

“Huh? Dayne, what are you muttering about?” Narsen strode over and asked the priest.

Despite Narsen’s usual obtuse appearance, he was, in fact, just as difficult to fool as Tournans.

Dayne smiled and spoke frankly, “Shaman Tumen’s understanding of the Heart of Nature is already a proto-religion. It will gradually develop rituals, systems, and a line of succession. A legacy belonging to a nature sect will inevitably change the political landscape of the Assyrians. However, nature worship is primitive and crude, with strong limitations, and it doesn’t suit the needs of territorial expansion. Although their resilience is formidable, they won’t have many followers, and their influence will be very limited. It’s absolutely impossible for them to form a religion.”

Narsen was completely baffled, but he never pressed for answers on things he couldn’t understand. He would just have to relay Dayne’s views to His Highness Randall later.

Dayne was still speaking with enthusiasm, “For now, it seems we have a basis for cooperation with Great Shaman Tumen… His worship of nature isn’t exactly evil.”

Narsen turned his head to stare at the cavern entrance a few hundred meters away, his expression grim. “Priest, Wizard, fall back to the center… The bugs are coming out.”

Chapter 858: Mental Suggestion

Dozens of alien insectoids crawled out of the tunnels. They looked like a combination of beetles, spiders, ants, and mantises, their bodies covered in a cyan carapace. They were slightly smaller than the aberrant cat-apes and had four pairs of limbs. The front two pairs resembled sharp longswords, while the latter two pairs ended in hooked claws. The first pair of these limbs grew from the shoulders of their upper body and were not used for support. Although their heads had insectoid features consisting of three pairs of compound eyes, a pair of antennae, and large mandibles, their upright upper body and the pair of longsword-like limbs that moved like flexible arms gave the immediate impression that this was an intelligent species.

Charlotte recognized them at a glance as the most numerous of the eight-legged insects from the tunnels beneath the Asoerta Temple. The difference was that the eight-legged insects in the temple’s tunnels were Undead Creatures, and they were also larger—almost twice the size of these living ones.

“Be careful, they might be intelligent and have special talents!” Charlotte warned loudly, holding her Adamantine longsword.

A chill ran down everyone’s spines. Undead Creatures had no vital points, which made them seem terrifying, but after encountering them several times, everyone realized they were actually not that difficult to deal with. If these living eight-legged insects possessed intelligence, however, it represented infinite possibilities. Even without any special talents, simply knowing how to fight cooperatively would make them more dangerous than the Undead Creatures with their mechanical behavior.

It was still uncertain whether the eight-legged insects possessed extraordinary talents, but everyone understood that herd creatures would always cooperate.

Narsen said loudly, “I could kill them all by myself, but there are more of them in the tunnels that haven’t come out. They’re here to test us. Don’t rush to attack. Let’s first see if the plants grown by Shaman Tumen are effective.”

The Randall expedition team already had a plan. Their main objective was to weaken the minions of Ann’s swarm, and their secondary objective was to use the method Victor had prepared to try and “persuade” Ann to abandon this lair. If the “persuasion” failed, the expedition team would retreat quickly, leaving the beastmen and the Assyrian Shaman behind as sacrifices.

The Fountain of Youth was of great significance to the Ant-men and the Assyrians. The Assyrians wanted to seize it without taking any risks. How could things be so easy?

Randall’s expedition team had no such desire and certainly wouldn’t stay behind to fight the Gros Insectoids to the death for the Fountain of Youth. The Assyrians by the spring were the swarm’s primary target for elimination. Even if the Randall expedition team chose to flee, the swarm would most likely not pursue them.

However, the Goblins enslaved by Imosen were a classic case of bravery in numbers. Knowing they had several hundred ferocious beasts and four savage Ogres on their side, they were not afraid when they saw the bizarre-looking insects running toward them. Instead, they bared their fangs and brandished their claws, creating a loud ruckus.

Imosen had to reprimand the Hobgoblins harshly, ordering them to restrain the Bugbears and common Goblins to prevent these beastmen from charging out and disrupting Lord Narsen’s tactical deployment.

Under the tyrannical threat of the Hobgoblins’ rattan canes, the green-skinned runts finally settled down. They moved large rocks to the Ogres’ feet and readied their slings, preparing to rout the invading swarm with their ranged weapons.

The eight-legged insects scuttled forward on three pairs of limbs. Their running speed was astonishingly fast, and they possessed an impressive jumping ability, able to leap more than two meters high. Narsen couldn’t help but worry if the barrier of thorns that the Great Shaman had grown with his quasi-spell could stop these menacing alien insects.

In reality, the thorny branches of these bushes were dense and pliable, their roots especially developed, plunging deep into the soil and interlinking into a single entity. Narsen had tested it himself; he could feel a strong, resilient resistance just passing through the thorny bushes. If he wanted to uproot the thorn bushes, he would have to unleash seventy to eighty percent of his strength.

Narsen’s fire of the mind had reached its highest level. With seventy to eighty percent of his strength, even a ten-ton boulder would be sent flying by him. Although beetle-like creatures were all herculean, they were far inferior to a Gold rank Ferocious warrior when it came to the technique of exerting force. With their excellent pliability, the thorns could completely ensnare and kill any eight-legged insects that charged in.

However, the thorn bushes were only about a man’s height, so the eight-legged insects were fully capable of jumping over them. Furthermore, these insects were adept at digging tunnels; they could easily dig a passage and break through the thorn barrier from underground.

Narsen’s worries proved to be unnecessary. The dozens of eight-legged insects halted about thirty meters from the thorn barrier. They paced back and forth, letting out angry hisses, but did not dare to advance further, as if an invisible chasm separated the insects from the thorns.

After observing for a moment, Narsen ordered, “Have the Assyrians and beastmen provoke them a bit and see what happens.”

Imosen immediately commanded his servant army to attack the徘徊 circling eight-legged insects from a distance. Through the gaps in the thorn bushes, Xinu’s Private soldiers, the savage headhunters, and the Goblins used javelins, bows and arrows, and slings to fire at their targets. They were only thirty to forty meters apart, but the servant army’s ranged weapons were crudely made. The arrows and javelins couldn’t pierce the carapaces of the eight-legged insects. Moreover, the insects were as agile as flies, dodging most of the poisoned arrows and stones with easy leaps and bounds.

Charlotte’s willow-like brows furrowed as she watched the eight-legged insects outside. “They seem to be able to sense the flow of air, allowing them to dodge attacks while moving. This is an ability the Undead eight-legged insects didn’t have.”

Narsen nodded, his expression serious. “The Assyrians’ ranged weapons are pathetically weak. We still can’t gauge the defensive capabilities of the eight-legged insects’ carapaces.”

Imoson the Wizard, looking a little unconvinced, turned and shouted a few words to the Ogre Brutes. Immediately, a rock larger than a man’s head went whistling through the air like a stone projectile fired from a double-stringed arbalest and blasted an eight-legged insect that was leaping sideways into pieces in mid-air.

The powerful display from the Ogre Brutes drew stunned looks from everyone. Not only did they have brute strength but also terrifyingly sharp combat intuition, allowing them to accurately hit an eight-legged insect that was mid-jump with no way to change course.

Narsen shouted to Imosen, “That doesn’t test the defense of the eight-legged insects.” The Wizard just shrugged his shoulders. He had four Ogre Brutes and several hundred rocks. Even with a thirty percent hit rate, he could make the swarm suffer.

Seeing their ally shattered to pieces by the rock clearly enraged the other eight-legged insects. The antennae on their heads trembled ceaselessly, and five of the insects charged recklessly toward the thorn bushes.

Their charge was fast at first, but puzzlingly, as the five insects ran, they began to move like drunken sots, their movements becoming uncontrolled until they finally staggered and collapsed at the edge of the thorn bushes.

The senior knight Klaus was about to grab one of the insects when he suddenly noticed that countless roots, as if they had a life of their own, were crawling onto the eight-legged insects and dragging them into the soil.

“The root system of the thorn bushes is an animated plant!” Klaus quickly withdrew his hand, stood up to observe the surrounding thorns, and muttered, “I see. The flower buds are constantly releasing some kind of gas, attracting and anesthetizing the Black Beetles and their metamorphosed forms. The animated roots specialize in feeding on these types of insects. It’s just like…”

Brandon chimed in, shouting, “Like the foul-smelling insectivorous flowers we encountered when we first entered the rainforest, which exuded a stench like rotting corpses to lure carrion-eating insects into their traps! Haha, these plants are the result of natural selection, specifically evolved to counter the black insects.”

Narsen habitually stroked his chin and said, “But they know it’s a deadly trap and can resist the tempting scent emitted by the plants. They are indeed intelligent, and I don’t think that’s good news… Look, the insects are still continuing to probe for weaknesses in the thorn barrier.”

Having sacrificed five of their own, the remaining eight-legged insects vibrated their sharp, sword-like limbs, digging through the humus and soil and quickly burrowing underground. They were using their race’s signature skill, intending to break through the thorn bushes’ obstruction from below.

The Randall expedition team had long been mentally prepared for the swarm to dig, but watching the insects disappear underground still left them feeling helpless. They didn’t know that the root system of the mutated thorns was extremely developed, more than ten times the size of the part above ground. In a way, the animated roots deep underground were the main body of the mutated thorns and their primary means of preying on Black Beetle-type insects. The animated roots could secrete a toxin that paralyzed the bodily functions of the Black Beetle-type insects, converting them into nutrients for their own growth.

This was the forest’s pan-consciousness retaliating against the swarm. Perhaps in a few months, this Barren Land, filled with humus, would be covered in insect-trapping thorns.

Great Shaman Tumen’s Nature Spirit quasi-spell had simply accelerated this process, forming a natural domain that countered the swarm. Fighting the Gros Insectoids within this natural domain gave the Randall expedition team a significant environmental advantage.

After a while, no sound came from underground. Caligula mumbled, “The insects are all dead.”

Everyone looked at the large patch of new thorn sprouts that had emerged from the ground, at a loss for words.

The Gros Swarm would not be so easily defeated by the Heart of Nature. The Broodmother would also undergo adaptive evolutionary procreation. It was just that this group of insects had encountered insectivorous plants cultivated by a Nature Spirit quasi-spell for the first time, and in such a short period, they had no way of making adaptive evolutionary adjustments.

And so, one by one, the eight-legged insects crawled out of the tunnels, a sight that made the scalps of the Randall expedition team and Imosen’s servant army tingle.

In truth, over four hundred alien insects waving their sharp limbs couldn’t quite be called an insect tide, but as they shrieked and charged toward the thorn bushes in unison, they possessed a momentum that made one’s heart pound in their chest. The worst part was that the Broodmother had yet to appear, and a brutal, bloody battle was imminent.

Narsen, who had experienced the Ant-man plague and the demon-slaughtering bloody battle, did not give a mere few hundred insects a second thought. He was instead curious about how these insects planned to break through the barrier of insectivorous thorns.

Then he saw the answer. The swarm of eight-legged insects vibrated the two antennae on their heads at the same frequency. They were receiving the Broodmother’s command; psionic energy connected them all.

The swarm was a single entity. The swarm’s extraordinary talent was psionic energy.

Next, everyone witnessed an incredibly shocking scene. During their charge, many of the eight-legged insects used their sharp limbs to sever their own heads. By the time the swarm neared the thorn barrier, their numbers had been reduced by more than half, but the previously faint and dull markings on the surviving eight-legged insects became vibrant and conspicuous. They were faster and stronger. A visible ripple appeared in the air around their heads—the unique psionic force field of the Gros Insectoids. Although the psionic force field looked weak, it was enough to shield the eight-legged insects from the anesthetizing pollen emitted by the mutated thorns.

Over two hundred eight-legged insects leaped over the thorn barrier one after another, attacking the invaders hiding behind it with their sharp limbs. The four Ogre Brutes dropped the rocks they hadn’t had time to throw, picked up massive tree trunks, and roared as they counter-attacked the swarm.

The Gros Swarm’s total psionic energy did not decrease with the death of its kin. On the contrary, the more insectoids that died, the more surplus psionic energy the Broodmother could distribute. Although the eight-legged insects were the most basic combat units of the swarm, the death of their own kind only made the remaining insects stronger, even allowing them to emit a weak psionic force field to block the anesthetizing gas from the insectivorous thorns. But the greatest use of psionic energy for the eight-legged insects was to temporarily boost their base attributes.

These two-hundred-odd eight-legged insects were now capable of tearing through the Ogres’ Brute Hide Art. The intense fear surpassed the Ogre Brutes’ psychological limit, but instead it ignited the berserk factor in their Bloodlines. The four Ogre Brutes were the first to launch a ferocious counterattack against the enemy, instantly kicking off a bloody slaughter.

The Ogres, Bugbears, Aberrant Dire Bears, aberrant cat-apes, savage headhunters, and the swarm of eight-legged insects were locked in a deadly melee. Blood splattered and severed limbs flew. The Randell Expeditionary Force and its servant army had the advantage in numbers and environment, but they discovered that the eight-legged insects grew stronger the more they killed. An eight-legged insect that could have been torn apart by three aberrant cat-apes before could now cut down a cat-ape as easily as chopping wood.

Some of the eight-legged insects with exceptionally agile dodging movements had already shaken off their opponents, drawing the Randall expedition team, positioned at the rear, into close-quarters combat.

Imosen released his last fifty aberrant cat-apes to meet the enemy, but they were clearly no match for this batch of advanced eight-legged insects. Narsen raised his pair of Adamantine beheading swords and called out, “Rear party, protect the spellcasters! Forward party, with me! We need to kill this batch of insects as quickly as possible!”

The last surviving insects would be the strongest. The more insects killed on the front line, the greater the pressure on the rear line. It was even possible that the surviving eight-legged insects could harm the priest and the Wizard. Conversely, if the expedition team killed all the insects in the rear line, the servant army fighting at the front would wear down the last of the strengthening insects.

Narsen did not intend to delay any longer. He swung his Adamantine beheading swords in sweeping circles of light, instantly slicing six eight-legged insects in half at the waist. The others also had their share of kills, but it was Swordsman Tao De, whom everyone thought was the weakest, whose performance was especially striking. With a flurry of steps, his hand instantly unleashed seven or eight straight glints of sword light, a speed so fast it was as if he had several arms. His blade skimmed the bodies of the aberrant cat-apes, consecutively stabbing two alien insects to death without harming the aberrant cat-apes he was using as tanks.

His swordplay was divine, his speed with the blade unmatched. His skills, practiced to perfection, allowed him to inflict maximum damage with minimal strength and maximum speed. Even a senior Bronze Knight would fall to his sword if caught off guard. He had killed the second-most eight-legged insects, surpassed only by Narsen. Even Red Wolf and Klaus couldn’t compare.

Unfortunately, Tao De lacked Red Wolf’s combat intuition, nor could he perceive elemental changes in a small area like Klaus. After piercing a fifth insect’s chest, neck, and head and chopping off two of its sharp limbs, Tao De turned to attack his next target. However, the insect that should have been dead was not. It lunged at Tao De’s back.

“Watch out!”

The sword-wielding handmaiden guarding Tao De’s left flank promptly shoved her master aside, but a deep gash was torn across her waist by the eight-legged insect.

A flash of sword light like a bolt of white silk streaked across the eight-legged insect’s body. Tao De, filled with fury, struck out and cleaved the insect in two. He carried the heavily injured sword-wielding handmaiden out of the battle and handed her to Macy, who had rushed over from behind, before returning to the fight.

In a fierce battle, casualties were inevitable. By the time Narsen and the others had killed all the eight-legged insects that broke through to the rear line, the servant army fighting at the front had suffered devastating casualties.

The patterns on the carapaces of the last few insects glowed brightly. Their movements were as swift as the wind, and they slaughtered the servant army, drawing wails and shrieks of terror. The massive Aberrant Dire Bears and Ogre Brutes were helpless against them. Imoson the Wizard did not use Wisdom Guidance to control the Aberrant Dire Bears, instead conserving his strength to deal with the stronger enemies to come.

Narsen was the first to charge into the front-line battlefield, slaying all the eight-legged insects that had just reached the Silver rank. The very last insect even managed to endure under his sword for several seconds before being chopped into four pieces by the Adamantine beheading sword.

As soon as the battle ended, the blood-soaked Aberrant Dire Bears and aberrant cat-apes immediately collapsed to the ground and began devouring the flesh and blood of the corpses, friend and foe alike. All of the dozens of Bugbears had fallen in battle, and the Assyrian slave soldiers and savage headhunters had also suffered considerable casualties. Even Beast Spirit Warrior Xinu had lost an arm. The four Ogre Brutes were covered in bloody wounds, but their life force was extremely tenacious; it wouldn’t be long before they recovered.

Narsen glanced at Xinu, who was grabbing his severed arm and pressing it against the wound, and said to him in the stiff Assyrian tongue, “You, take your men, go to the back, drink the spring water.”

Xinu immediately dropped his own severed arm, imitated the human custom of bowing deeply to Narsen, then turned to his Private soldiers and said a few words in the Assyrian tongue before abandoning his comrades and hurrying toward the Fountain of Youth. The other Assyrian warriors carried their heavily wounded and slowly retreated.

Seeing this, Narsen spat on the ground in contempt. His assessment of Xinu was that although he fought bravely, he was too selfish and cold-blooded.

At that moment, the people from the rear party, protecting Imoson and Dayn, walked over. My Lady Charlotte raised her eyebrows at Narsen.

Narsen nodded, his eyes grave. “It’s come out.”

In the distance, at the mouth of the tunnel, some twenty-odd eight-legged insects swarmed around a massive Broodmother as it crawled out. It was about 3.7 meters tall and over 6 meters long, its entire body encased in a white carapace covered in bright purple patterns. Beneath its bloated, fat abdomen were three pairs of thick limbs. Its upper body was almost humanoid, with a pair of slender arms, but its head was completely insectoid, with Mandibles and a ring of dark red Compound eyes.

Charlotte found it difficult to see any trace of the high-level Ant-man Ann in this behemoth. But as the Broodmother approached, ripples spread through the air. An invisible force field repelled broken stones and severed vines. The dual pressure from both the mind and reality forced the female knight to take half a step back.

Except for Narsen and Caligula, the rest of the expedition team were somewhat unsteady on their feet.

Dayn clutched the sacred object crystal in his hand and, without hesitation, cast the fifth-tier divine art—Sacred Protection—on Caligula. Ever since the expeditionary force’s clash with the War Ant King, Dayn had often been filled with regret. If he had cast Sacred Protection on both Dragonkin handmaiden Laila and Caligula back then, the two of them together might not have lost to the War Ant King. Unfortunately, he had used one Sacred Protection on Imosen. The Wizard had failed to intercept the War Ant King alone while controlling Philip II, and Dayn hadn’t had a third Sacred Protection to give Caligula, which had ultimately led to Lady Laila perishing at the hands of the Ant King.

Dayn would not make the same mistake again. As long as Caligula could hold back the Broodmother for a few minutes, he would cast his last Sacred Protection on Lord Narsen.

A set of platinum-gold runes appeared in the void before Caligula, and his eyes also took on a platinum-gold glow. He held a long-handled heavy hammer, took a step toward the Gros Broodmother, and roared:

“Aka, not afraid of you!”

Ann stopped in her tracks. When the tall human stomped on the ground, she actually had the illusion that the ground was shaking. Although her psionic energy instantly dispelled this illusion, she was unwilling to personally confront such a dangerous enemy.

Since entering the secret forest, Ann had followed the Ant-man Empress’s instructions and, relying on the instincts of the insectoids, had found this spirit-essence blood spring. After mutating into a Gros Broodmother, her psionic energy had increased more than tenfold. Ann felt that she was now the most powerful high-level Ant-man; even if the War Ant King Apollis were reborn, he would be no match for her. But the Gros Broodmother was the core of the swarm and would never personally participate in battle unless absolutely necessary. Ann stubbornly believed she was still a female high-level Ant-man, but she could not resist the natural instincts of a Gros Broodmother.

Unfortunately, this newly-promoted Gros Broodmother had no males around her, so she could only produce the most basic combat units. And these invaders had wiped out the swarm she had worked so hard to procreate, leaving only about twenty guard insects. They were clearly no match for the invaders. But Ann was unwilling to just abandon the spirit-essence blood spring and find another place to build a nest. She waved her arms in frustration, her immense psionic force field making the stones on the ground float.

Charlotte noticed her opponent’s hesitation. Following Victor’s instructions, she extended her left hand toward the Gros Broodmother that was suspected to be Ann, made a fist, and then raised her little finger. She spoke its name in the ancient tongue: “Ann.”

The female knight’s seemingly casual gesture instantly activated the seed of suggestion hidden deep within Ann’s mind. Her hostility vanished, her psionic force field retracted into her body, and her gaze fell upon Charlotte. She bent her knees in an elegant curtsy and said, “I am Ann… Did His Highness Randell send you to instruct me?”

Charlotte didn’t understand Ann’s ancient tongue. She shot a look at the Wizard beside her.

Imosen composed himself and, according to their pre-arranged plan, said, “Ann, the descendants of the Assyrian Empire are gathering a powerful army, preparing to come here to seize the Fountain of Youth, and they are determined to eliminate you and your swarm. Please leave this place as soon as possible and build a nest in a more distant and hidden location. We will notify you if there is any new information.”

Ann only felt that His Highness Randell’s Messengers were friendly, kind, and trustworthy. She nodded without hesitation and said, “I understand. I will leave at once. I hope to see you again.”

The Gros Broodmother turned with her guard insects and headed toward the rainforest. Just as her figure was about to disappear, the just-awakened Great Shaman Tumen ran over and couldn’t help but exclaim in shock, “What is that thing?”

He had only managed to get a single syllable out of his throat when Narsen flickered to his side and rudely clamped a hand over his mouth, stuffing the rest of his words back down.

Only after the Gros Broodmother and her guard insects had completely vanished into the dense rainforest did Father Dayn walk over. He berated Shaman Tumen in the stiff Assyrian tongue, “You nearly got all of us killed just now… By the way, who are you?”

Chapter 859: Blood of an Ancient God

“The high-level Ant-man Ann has mutated into a Gros Broodmother. Her psionic energy can alter reality, making stones float. Even if she isn’t one of the swarm’s combat units, she possesses the standing of a legendary creature at the very least, no weaker than a Manticore.”

“His Highness Randell claimed that a mental suggestion could be used to guide the high-level Ant-man Ann’s behavior. The idea was so preposterous that even his Concubine Knight’s heart was pounding as she faced the Gros Broodmother. On one hand, she wasn’t certain that the Gros Broodmother was even Ann; on the other, she had only a partial understanding of the mental suggestion technique derived from charm spells and was terrified she would get the simple activation command wrong.”

“Fortunately, Charlotte followed the principles Victor had laid out and successfully triggered the seed of a mental suggestion.”

“First, inducing Ann’s behavior via the mental suggestion technique had to conform to the laws of reality. For instance, Ann clearly could not fly. If Charlotte suggested that she could, the induction would fail, and the suggestion seed Victor had planted would immediately become ineffective. The high-level Ant-man Ann would not only be completely free of Victor’s mental suggestion but would also come to fiercely hate the person who had tried to induce her. Second, the suggested induction had to align with her interest in her own safety. If Charlotte ordered Ann to self-harm or commit suicide, the suggestion would also automatically fail.”

“As long as these two principles were followed, Ann herself would rationalize any details or loopholes in the suggestion, coming up with all sorts of reasons to convince herself.”

“Imosen told her that the Assyrian Empire’s army was on its way to seize the Fountain of Youth and that she should flee at once. This aligned with both Ann’s general awareness and her interest in her own safety. Thus, even though the Randall expedition team had just annihilated the eight-legged insect swarm, Ann did not investigate further. She unhesitatingly abandoned the lair she had managed for months, not even wanting the precious Fountain of Youth, and hastily departed with the remaining guard insects.”

“If she had refused to leave, the Randall expedition team would have had to find a way to retreat. But now, the Gros Broodmother was finally gone. Everyone was afraid she might suddenly think of something and turn back. Every person present was breathing cautiously when Shaman Tumen suddenly ran over, about to shout. Dayne truly wished he could just strangle the man.”

“Tumen’s appearance had drastically changed. His face was gaunt, his muscles lean, and shreds of unshed skin still clung to his body. The originally blue-gray scales behind his ears now glowed with a faint purple light. Not only had he regained a youthful appearance, but his bloodline power had also been enhanced.”

“Father Dayn deliberately pretended not to recognize Tumen, taking the opportunity to vent his anger by slapping the man hard on the back. Not that he would actually kill the Great Shaman.”

“The Gros Insectoids’ psionic talent of growing stronger with every battle was an unchangeable, objective reality. Without the mutated thorns cultivated by Great Shaman Tumen, the casualties among the expedition team and the servant army would have been far heavier. It was precisely because Tumen had laid out the insectivorous thorns in advance, forcing a majority of the Gros Swarm to kill themselves first, that the Randall expedition team was able to preserve most of its strength.”

“Tumen alone had eliminated more eight-legged insects than the expedition team and the servant army combined. A Legendary-rank extraordinary being commanded respect anywhere, and besides, Dayne believed the value of nature spirit quasi-spells was better suited to agriculture.”

“When the Randt Empire was founded, the Radiant Church’s Ivory Sanctum had collaborated with the Silver Spire to cultivate crops suitable for the south using Wolftail Grass. Generations of scholars worked tirelessly, taking over five hundred years to improve Wolftail Grass into Spelt. The Radiant Church then began cultivating the Spiked Kidney Bean, but decades had passed, and the high-yield Spiked Kidney Bean was still not considered a grain crop.”

“If Great Shaman Tumen were to help the human kingdoms improve the Spiked Kidney Bean, would it drastically shorten the cultivation period for the new variety?”

“Dayne himself couldn’t answer this question. But he had seen with his own eyes that nature spirit quasi-spells could induce adaptive plant mutations based on the natural environment.”

“Different natural environments determined different crop varieties. The high-yield green wheat only grew in the red soil of the Northern Wildlands; it wouldn’t grow if transplanted to the south. Most of the Eastern Alliance was covered in worthless Devil Grass, rendering vast tracts of land barren. Human lords were about to develop the unfamiliar Southern Continent and would inevitably need to cultivate grains suitable for its climate. Shaman Tumen’s nature spirit quasi-spells could surely help the farmers avoid many pitfalls.”

“As a scholar-priest of the Church, Dayne couldn’t help but let his imagination wander. How could they turn Shaman Tumen’s nature spirit quasi-spells into usable technical experience?”

“Of course, the “divine kingdom” in Beldina’s hands was the most important thing. Dayne was bent on acquiring their “divine kingdom” from the Assyrian descendants. He and Great Shaman Tumen actually had an irreconcilable conflict; once the matter was exposed, it would become a life-or-death struggle.”

“The Assyrians would hunt the Randall expedition team just as their ancestors had hunted Paladin Trigovar. Therefore, they couldn’t expect the Assyrian Shaman to provide his nature spirit quasi-spells for human scholars to analyze their underlying laws and turn them into valuable knowledge for crop cultivation.”

“However, Great Shaman Tumen had taught his quasi-spells to Beldina. If the Randall expedition team took Bel back to the human kingdoms, it would amount to the same thing.”

“Regardless, even if Great Shaman Tumen might cause trouble for the Randall expedition team in the future, they couldn’t eliminate him now.”

“While Dayne was mentally plotting against Tumen, Tumen was dumbfounded at the sight of the Gros Broodmother’s retreating figure.”

“He had never seen the Ant-man race, but Ann’s features were remarkably similar to the rumored White-armored Ant-men. Tumen’s first reaction was to mistake her for a White-armored Ant-man. But that was illogical; the Realm of All Spirits Secret Domain had forbidden the Ant-man race from entering for over one thousand years to protect the Assyrian descendants. No Ant-man had ever managed to enter. The war between the Pale Sovereign and The Undying One was still raging. If a White-armored Ant-man were to enter the secret domain now, it would spell a great catastrophe for the Assyrian descendants living there.”

“Tumen wasn’t certain that the enormous insectoid creature was one of the legendary White-armored Ant-men. He desperately wanted to chase after it and find out for sure, but at the same time, he longed to return to the jungle city immediately and ask Harenadak if the Pale Sovereign had been defeated by The Undying One.”

“As the Radiant Church’s priest and the Assyrian Empire’s Great Shaman were each lost in thought, Ghostface Swordsman Tao De ran over, shattering the two spellcasters’ brief silence.”

“Your Excellency Dayne, come quick and see Boli. She’s in a bad way; she looks like she can’t hold on,” Tao De said anxiously.

“Alright, I’m on my way.”

“In the earlier battle, several sword-wielding handmaidens had been wounded, and Boli was the most grievously injured. While protecting her master, Tao De, she had sustained a horrifying gash across her waist from the sharp limb of an eight-legged insect. Her lumbar spine was severed, and she was nearly cut in half. Blood Python Macy and a few other sword-wielding handmaidens were taking care of her. Seeing Tao De arrive with the priest, Macy asked in a sorrowful, tear-filled voice, “Esteemed master Dayne, can Boli still be saved?”

“Dayne said nothing, kneeling on the ground to inspect the handmaiden’s wound. He had used a Healing Art on Boli earlier as an emergency measure and had sealed her wound with a styptic poultice. But now, blood was continuously seeping from the wound, staining the dark green poultice red. Her beautiful face had taken on an ominous gray pallor, her breathing and heartbeat were barely perceptible, and her dilated pupils reflected no light. She was on the verge of death.”

“In truth, a normal person would have succumbed to such a severe injury long ago, even with a healing spell. The life force of a sword-wielding handmaiden was far stronger than that of a common person. If Dayne had cast a higher-level Potent Healing spell at the time, he likely could have saved her life. But he hadn’t, only casting a single third-level Healing Art on her.”

“Sword-wielding handmaidens served noble families as secret messengers, personal guards, and favored attendants; they were by no means followers of the Lord of Radiance. Dayne didn’t actually care if a sword-wielding handmaiden lived or died. However, even if Boli had been a devout believer, he would not have used a Potent Healing spell on her under the circumstances.”

“The Potent Healing spell was reserved for the core members of the House of Randell. Even if none of them needed it, a sword-wielding handmaiden was not qualified to receive a high-level divine art. This was the triage principle of all battle priests, solely to ensure the greatest benefit for the battle squad.”

“Moreover, Boli’s lumbar spine was already severed. Even if Dayne expended a precious high-level divine art to save her, she would be a paraplegic, a burden to the expedition team.”

“Given Boli’s current condition, only a 6th-level Greater Restoration spell could likely help her. Dayne didn’t know the Greater Restoration spell. Miller’s Holy Crystal did contain one, which could be cast once every five days, but Dayne still wouldn’t waste it on a sword-wielding handmaiden.”

“Out of respect and the necessity of mutual trust, Dayne first glanced at My Lady Charlotte. His Highness Randell’s sworn female knight did not react, which itself was her answer. The priest then shook his head with a heavy expression and said consolingly, “She is not in too much pain now…”

““This child needs to drink from the Fountain of Youth immediately,” the nearby Great Shaman Tumen suddenly interjected.”

“By now, the extraordinary beings in the expedition team could understand some of the Assyrian language, and the Gold-rank priest Dayne could communicate directly with Tumen. Hearing Tumen’s suggestion, he was startled. His gaze shifted to the shaman’s rejuvenated face, trying to discern some clue from his expression.”

“Perhaps Tumen was planning to use the Fountain of Youth to identify the “Rare People” among the expedition members. The critically injured, near-death handmaiden was also an opportunity for the Randall expedition team to test the mysterious Fountain.”

“Charlotte immediately instructed Caligula to fetch some water from the Fountain of Youth, and then she personally supported Boli, feeding the green, glowing water into her mouth.”

““It’s working!” Brandon exclaimed in pleasant surprise. He could perceive the water element inside Boli becoming abundant and active.”

“Once Boli was given water from the Fountain of Youth, her condition immediately improved. A trace of color returned to her pale lips, her heartbeat and breathing gradually stabilized, and her throat began to instinctively swallow more of the water. Slowly, she closed her eyelids, her breathing becoming steady and deep as she entered a profound state of dormancy.”

“Tumen had been observing Boli’s condition the entire time. Seeing that she was out of danger and had fallen asleep, he nodded and said, “This girl was gravely injured. Her slumber will surely be longer than mine. I’m afraid she won’t wake up until tomorrow.””

“His tone carried a sense of great relief.”

“The next day, the Assyrians who had drunk from the Fountain of Youth woke up one by one. They tore off their shed skin. Not only had their wounds healed completely, but the Scaleless savages had also grown scales. The private soldiers and slave soldiers who had few scales now had denser, more distinct scales behind their ears. Beast Spirit Warrior Xinu’s severed arm had regenerated, and his once light-blue scales now shone with an indigo幽光, though they had not turned purple like Great Shaman Tumen’s.”

“Every Assyrian here had their bloodline power enhanced to varying degrees. Charlotte and the others also discovered that when Assyrian descendants drank from the Fountain, they would inevitably fall into a dormant state and shed their skin, with the duration of the dormancy correlating to their own bloodline power. The old savage Rear-Eye had not been injured and was the first Assyrian to drink from the Fountain, but his dormancy was much longer than Tumen’s, lasting a full day. After shedding his skin, he had the appearance of a middle-aged man, with two light-blue scale patterns behind his ears. The boost to his bloodline power was even less than that of several of Xinu’s private soldier chieftains.”

“Even so, the old savage was very happy, gathering with dozens of savage headhunters to compare whose scales were prettier and whose Fangs were sharper.”

“The Assyrians possessed two bloodline talents: Fangs and Spirit Eye. Their Fangs were not for poisoning prey but for injecting themselves with venom to stimulate their Life’s Inner Potential and gain various ability enhancements. Additionally, Assyrians had a talent for sensing heat. Those with scales could also switch their visual state to “see” the heat within plants and animals. A very small number of Assyrians could even see the existence of “spirits”; any Assyrian with this type of talent could become a Shaman.”

“In the eyes of an Assyrian Shaman, all things shone with a spiritual light. They used the Spirit Sight Art to solve many problems without needing to understand the underlying laws or principles. For instance, if an Assyrian noble fell ill, the light of his spirit would change accordingly. The Shaman would then observe the spiritual light of various plants and animals to select the proper medicinal herbs to treat him. As for why spider silk combined with the droppings of a big-mouthed bird could cure a noble warrior’s illness, while silk from a different spider would not work? The Shamans didn’t concern themselves with the specific answer; in fact, they couldn’t figure it out.”

“An Assyrian’s bloodline power was generally reflected in their scales. A Scaleless Assyrian had to at least possess a pair of Fangs. If even the Fangs were not a distinct feature, then their pupils would always be constricted, never dilating or contracting.”

“According to the myths of the Assyrian Empire, the Rare People bore no traits belonging to the Assyrians. But if that was the case, could the Rare People still be considered blood descendants of the Assyrians?”

“Tumen was deeply concerned with the answer to this question, even more so than with his own safety. He secretly used his Spirit Sight Art to observe the Rare People woman who had drunk from the Fountain of Youth, but as of yet, she showed no signs of waking. However, her spiritual light was becoming increasingly similar to that of a Scaleless Assyrian.”

“It wasn’t until the morning of the third day that the sword-wielding handmaiden Boli finally opened her eyes. What Dayne and the others saw, however, was a pair of constricted pupils, just like an Assyrian’s eyes.”

“Other than that, there were no other changes in Boli’s appearance. She didn’t even shed her skin, but her wounds were completely healed, and her mental state was even better than usual.”

“Tumen, who had been awaiting the outcome, finally broke into a knowing smile, but the Randall expedition team was not necessarily as happy. The core members surrounded Boli, checking her physical and mental condition, while the others maintained stern expressions, preventing Great Shaman Tumen from coming over to get friendly.”

“The Radiant Church’s divine art of true sight was superior to the Assyrian Shaman’s Spirit Sight Art, as it could directly observe a person’s soul form. Boli showed no abnormalities after being questioned in turn by Charlotte and the others; she still seemed to be a secret art death commando of the House of Randell. But if her soul had been invaded by the will of an evil god, Dayne had already stated that he could only use the Sacred Flame Art to purify her.”

“The priest used the divine art of true sight to carefully observe Boli’s soul state and finally announced his conclusion to the group:”

““I don’t know the reason, but Boli’s eyes now resemble an Assyrian’s. However, the change is temporary. In two months at most, she will return to her original appearance.””

“Narsen nodded and said with conviction, “If only our master were here. He would definitely know the reason.””

“Dayne couldn’t agree more. When it came to changes in a person’s soul and bloodline, none was more thorough than the Dragonkin handmaiden by His Highness Randell’s side. Boli’s change was merely constricted pupils; she had not gained any of the Assyrian bloodline talents. After two months, even this single physical trait resembling an Assyrian’s would disappear on its own.”

“In reality, the Fountain of Youth was a leakage of spirit-essence from the Realm of All Spirits. The savage Shamans called it Spirit Essence Water, while the Ant-men had another name for it—the spirit-essence blood spring.”

“The Fountain of Youth was equivalent to the divine blood of the Ancient Behemoth, the King of the Spirit Realm, albeit with a “pseudo-” prefix. Although it was pseudo-divine blood, it contained a portion of the King of the Spirit Realm’s bloodline will, which was why it could enhance the bloodline power of Assyrians and high-level Ant-men. This was because they were both existing blood-kin of the King of the Spirit Realm.”

“When a primordial human drank from the Fountain of Youth, their physical characteristics would naturally undergo some changes. Unfortunately, the Fountain was ultimately pseudo-divine blood, unlike the ancient dragon blood Victor had obtained in the Sasan Empire. Otherwise, Boli would have truly become an Assyrian. Her current change was very slight, and temporary.”

“No one wanted to become one of the sub-human races, whether a barbarian, a dwarf, a halfling, or an Assyrian. It simply didn’t align with human aesthetics. Now, if it meant becoming a beautiful and long-lived elf, that was something worth considering.”

“Brandon whistled and said in a relaxed tone, “If drinking from the Fountain of Youth temporarily gives us Assyrian-like eyes, then we can infiltrate the capital city of the Assyrian descendants.””

“Narsen’s eyes lit up, and he grinned. “Yes, we can sneak into the Assyrian capital and wait for a chance to rescue Beldina. It would be even better if the Fountain of Youth could heal Red Wolf’s and Rogers’s disabilities.””

““It probably can,” Father Dayne nodded and said thoughtfully. “Right now, Boli is our only example. Drinking from the Fountain still carries unknown risks. I’ll be blunt: we should have two or three more sword-wielding handmaidens try it. Only after we confirm that drinking the water is safe can Red Wolf and Rogers use the Fountain of Youth.””

“Charlotte nodded. “I agree… Also, the plan to infiltrate the Assyrian capital must be carefully strategized. As for Shaman Tumen, my opinion is to let him leave tomorrow, but we can’t expect him to cooperate with us in rescuing Beldina.””

“That evening, a an increasingly anxious Tumen finally met with Imosen and the sword-wielding handmaiden Boli. He first gave the handmaiden a deep look, then turned to Imosen and said, “Wizard King, I believe the Fountain of Youth can make you grow purple scales.””

“Imosen frowned in displeasure and asked casually, “How can you be so sure?””

“Tumen, of course, could not understand Imosen’s disgust at the thought of growing scales on his body. He said very seriously, “I now believe you are Queen Bel’s father. What you don’t know is that Queen Bel is tearing apart the Realm of All Spirits, which is why this Fountain of Youth flows endlessly. The Spirits of All Things will respond to Queen Bel’s wishes. This Fountain can increase your longevity and power and help you regain your youth. This is Queen Bel’s gift to her father and her kin. Otherwise, why would it appear here?””

“Imosen’s spirits lifted, and he pressed, “Why would my Bel tear apart the Realm of All Spirits?””

“Tumen explained, “The Realm of All Spirits is inhabited by an undying spirit thief. She has always been stealing the power of All Spirits, All Hallows. The claws She procreates kill Assyrians and then continuously expand their population. The Assyrians have always fought The Undying One, but we cannot eliminate her, while Her brood of claws can continually expand…””

““Wait.” Father Dayne, who had been listening from behind, stepped forward with a serious expression. “Great Shaman Tumen, who is this Undying One you speak of? And what are Her claws?””

““The Undying One is The Undying One. Her claws are a kind of half-human, half-ant monster. We call them the Ant-man race.””

““The Ant-man race can only expand its numbers by killing Assyrians?””

“Tumen nodded grimly. “It is said that the undying spirit thief can transform the souls of Assyrians into the souls of the Ant-man race. She often orders Her claws to wage war on the Assyrian Empire precisely to plunder Assyrian souls. Our ancestors once tried to exterminate the Ant-man race, but the Ant-man queen can produce even more Ant-men than before… The spirit is sacred to us Assyrians. We cannot tolerate the spirits of our kin being twisted by The Undying One into Ant-man monsters. But we have never been able to completely eliminate the undying spirit thief. Even if we defeat the Ant-man army in battle, She will still steal and twist the spirits of the fallen, bringing long-term torment and suffering to us Assyrians.””

“Imosen sucked in a cold breath and demanded, “So how large is the population of those Ant-man monsters now?””

“Tumen shook his head. “I don’t know their exact number now. But the Ant-man queen’s production capacity certainly exceeds one million.””

“Imosen flew into a rage at once, shouting furiously, “So what? You tricked my Beldina into dealing with The Undying One?””

“Great Shaman Tumen quickly explained, “It is said that The Undying One occupies a Spirit-Devouring Island in the Realm of All Spirits. She can only stay on the island and cannot go anywhere else. By tearing apart the Realm of All Spirits, Queen Bel is actually trapping The Undying One on the Spirit-Devouring Island. Queen Bel can then lead us to escape the threat of the Ant-man race. As long as Queen Bel’s spirit does not enter the Spirit-Devouring Island, she is safe.””

““You piece of shit! You don’t understand Beldina at all… You piece of shit, why don’t you just die!” Imosen swore at Tumen, clenching his fists as if to punch him. Further conversation was impossible.”

“Dayne gestured for Brandon to pull the enraged Wizard back. He said to Tumen, “You keep saying ‘it is said,’ ‘it is said’… Can we talk about something concrete?””

“Tumen was silent for a moment before saying, “Actually, we Assyrians haven’t had any dealings with the Ant-man race for a very long time. This is a secret domain protected by All Spirits. We have ways to get out, but the Ant-men have no way in. If the Ant-men could enter this secret domain, it would be a disaster for us Assyrians, and that includes you Rare People. But I suspect the insect monster I saw earlier might be a White-armored Ant-man from the Ant-man race, and a White-armored Ant-man queen at that.””

“Dayne stared into Tumen’s eyes and shook his head. “Great Shaman, whatever you’re thinking, we have no desire to provoke that monster… We will release you as we agreed, so you can go to your Queen Bel and confirm our identities. But we are only giving you one month. If you do not reunite us with Beldina, don’t blame us for organizing our forces and declaring war on you! And remember, compared to the Ant-man monsters, the savages who have lived here for generations hate the Assyrian slave-catchers far more. And the Assyrians have never considered the savages their kin, nor even an equal intelligent species, let alone us scaleless ‘Outsiders’?””

“The priest’s words resonated with the surrounding Assyrian savages. They raised their arms and let out roars of defiant declaration. The sound carried far, far into the distance.”

Chapter 860: House Arrest

With several skins filled with water from the Fountain of Youth, Tumen slipped back into the jungle city. He alerted no one, making his way to the Main Chamber of the temple under the cover of night for a secret meeting with Harenadak.

The old shaman had regained his youthful appearance and even possessed the noble Purple Scales. Yet, as the younger brother of Harenadak’s grandfather, he knew all too well that the Chief Priestess was cruel and cold-blooded, showing no mercy even to her own kin. Based on his understanding of Harenadak, if she learned that Beldina’s father had entered the secret realm and was searching for his daughter, she would undoubtedly dispatch assassins to kill Imosen before the Queen awakened.

Eliminating the unforeseen variable of the Queen’s birth father was, of course, in the best interests of the Assyrian Empire. If Tumen were the Chief Priestess, he would likely make the same decision. But if the matter were ever exposed, the consequences would be unthinkable. Whoever ordered the assassination of Imosen would be forced to bear the full force of Queen Bel’s wrath.

Tumen could easily imagine Harenadak framing him or having him silenced. On his way back to the city, he had weighed his options repeatedly and decided to temporarily conceal the existence of Imosen and the other Outsiders, blaming the annihilation of his private soldiers entirely on the savages and the insect swarm.

Harenadak was a venomous serpent in a beautiful guise. Tumen planned to first probe her attitude toward him. If she truly bore him ill will, he would have to use the water from the Fountain of Youth to win over a few Great Shamans and Warrior chiefs, forming an alliance for self-preservation before publicly discussing the matter of the Queen’s father.

“…After we crushed the savage tribe, a few captives led us to the Fountain of Youth, but none of us expected it to be a trap… An insectoid monster led its swarm in an attack against us… In the end, we wiped out the swarm and drove off the monster, but we were left with only twenty-odd men. The shaman Crocodile Tail returned to the Realm of All Spirits, and the shaman Vava was gravely injured. Luckily, the Fountain of Youth was nearby… I was the first to emerge from my molting, only to find that a large number of savage headhunters had surrounded the Fountain while most of our men were in dormancy… I had lost many of my Nature Spirits in the battle with the insectoid monster, so I could only fill one bag with water from the Fountain and escape alone. The other Warriors all died in battle. The shaman Vava was beheaded by the savage headhunters while he was in dormancy…”

Within the Main Chamber of the temple, where vines entwined and flowers bloomed, hundreds of Flower Fey frolicked and played. The Great Shaman Tumen told his half-true story, his narrowed pupils fixed on a corner tangled with vines. That spot had once been his, but Harenadak now occupied it, leaving the Great Shaman deeply unsettled.

“Harenadak, I believe that insectoid monster resembled the legendary White-armored Ant-man Queen. I’ve brought back a Black Beetle and the severed limb of a blade-insect for you to identify.”

Tumen took the head and a jointed leg of an eight-legged insect, as well as an intact Black Beetle, from the grass-rope bag beside him and placed them on the ground.

Two vines slithered over like snakes, coiled around the insect remains on the ground, and swiftly retracted into the corner, but they did not take the skins filled with water from the Fountain of Youth.

The Main Chamber housed Man-eating Flowers, and outside were the four great Guardian Spirits; it could be said that the upper levels of the temple were enveloped in Queen Bel’s natural domain. Only a Nature Spirit Shaman recognized by her could command the super-sized Man-eating Flowers within this domain. Harenadak’s ability to command the Man-eating Flower vines proved that she had embarked on the path of a Nature Spirit Shaman and earned the approval of the Queen’s Flower Fey. Tumen should have been pleased by this, but instead, he felt a sense of loss and urgency.

The fact that the shamaness did not take the water from the Fountain of Youth sent a chill down Tumen’s spine. Just as he was wondering if his lies had been exposed, Harenadak’s slightly hoarse, coquettish voice emerged from the lushly vined corner. “Vava and the others’ spirits have gone to the Realm of All Spirits. I wonder if they landed on Spirit-Devouring Island, to be twisted and tormented by The Undying One, or if they became fertilizer for the Pale Sovereign to mend the Realm of All Spirits.”

If an Assyrian died in an area covered by the Realm of All Spirits, their soul would appear randomly somewhere within it. In their bewildered state, souls were easily drawn to Spirit-Devouring Island to be consumed or twisted by The Undying One. This was why the Blood Sacrifice ritual was so important. Through the ceremony, a deceased person’s soul would enter the Realm of All Spirits and appear only near the sacrificial grounds, where other Ancestral Spirits would look after them, helping them through their initial stupor until they gradually recovered their memories and senses.

In this current period, however, it made no difference whether an Assyrian died in the wilderness or on the sacrificial grounds. Their souls would either be stolen by The Undying One or absorbed by the Pale Sovereign. The shaman Vava and the one hundred private soldiers Harenadak had sent with Tumen were truly and utterly dead. There was no way to summon their spirits and ask what had really happened.

Harenadak had all but stated outright that there were no witnesses to corroborate Tumen’s story. Feigning incomprehension, Tumen said with a grim face, “It wasn’t just your men who died. All of my men are dead too… The most important thing is the White-armored Ant-man Queen. You should understand what the appearance of a White-armored Ant-man Queen in the secret realm signifies, shouldn’t you?”

“You think these strange insects are the legendary Ant-men?” Harenadak retorted, then added mockingly, “Why didn’t you bring back an Ant-man’s head for me to see?”

The Black Beetle and the eight-legged insect were completely different from the Ant-men known to the Assyrian Shamans. Tumen himself couldn’t be certain that the insectoid monster he had seen was the White-armored Ant-man Queen. And since the shaman, Beast Spirit Warriors, and elite private soldiers dispatched by Harenadak had all perished with not a single one returning alive, no one would happily accept Tumen’s explanation. It was no wonder Harenadak questioned his account.

The insect remains Tumen presented were not evidence at all; they were an insult to Harenadak. Did he think that a few strange bug parts could absolve him of responsibility for the annihilation of one hundred elite private soldiers? That he could fool the Chief Priestess of the Assyrian Empire so easily?

On one hand was the secret of Queen Bel’s birth father, a burden he could not bear alone; on the other was Harenadak’s trust… Tumen’s greatest fear had come to pass. Acknowledging he was in the wrong, he no longer pressed the topic of the White-armored Ant-man Queen, pinning his hopes of reconciliation with Harenadak on the Fountain of Youth.

“Harena, I brought you back a full bag of water from the Fountain of Youth, enough for fifty people to drink,” Tumen said, pointing to the large skin on the floor.

The Fountain of Youth could restore a shaman’s youth and extend their lifespan; it could also elevate fifty Green Scale Warriors to Blue Scale Warriors, and some Blue Scale Assyrians might even have a chance to grow the noble Purple Scales. Any Assyrian Noble would willingly trade one hundred elite private soldiers for even just ten portions of the Fountain’s water. Tumen’s bag contained a full fifty portions. In terms of value alone, it would have been worth it for Sakhirtana to sacrifice two hundred elite private soldiers.

The vines in the corner parted automatically, and the Chief Priestess hidden within finally emerged. When Tumen saw what she looked like now, his expression changed drastically.

The beautiful shamaness, who looked as if she were carved from ivory, was not wearing the feathered headdress that symbolized her authority. The scales behind her ears had been replaced by two brilliant purple markings that extended from her delicate cheeks down her long, graceful neck, then over her shoulders, arms, and the backs of her hands, all the way to the tips of her slender fingers, adding an air of mysterious charm.

“The Wizard King’s Purple Markings?!”

The Great Shaman Tumen cried out, his face a mask of shock. “You… you’ve already drunk from the Fountain of Youth?”

The Assyrians’ purple markings had no actual connection to the Wizard King; the prefix “Wizard King” was added simply to signify their nobility. They were, in fact, the signature feature of the strongest Assyrian Bloodline, and the majority of the Wizard Kings in the history of the Assyrian Empire had borne these purple markings.

Harenadak was a shaman born with Purple Scales, her Bloodline far more potent than that of Blue Scale Assyrians. It was for this reason that the Assyrian Shamans had promoted her to the position of Chief Priestess. Harenadak had paid a price for this; by communicating with the Pale Sovereign in the Realm of All Spirits, she had exhausted her life force and spiritual power, becoming old and frail before she was even forty. After the Black Blood Sovereign perished, the Pale Sovereign took control of the Realm of All Spirits and returned some of its power to the Ancestral Spirit Shamans. Harenadak was able to recover her youthful appearance, but the life force and spiritual power she had lost were not restored.

There was only one way for the Chief Priestess’s Purple Scales to transform into purple markings: she had drunk from the Fountain of Youth, and her damaged life force and soul had been restored.

Tumen had hidden the other skins of water from the Fountain of Youth in a secret location, planning to use them to bribe the old shamans and a few influential Assyrian Warriors in the upper city. He now suspected that Harenadak had intercepted them beforehand, but on second thought, he realized it was impossible. If Harenadak had drunk the water he brought back, she should be in a state of dormancy, not awake and standing before him now.

Harenadak watched the expressions flit across Tumen’s face and his darting eyes, her own judgment growing more certain. She said, “Not long after you left to find the Fountain of Youth, a violent upheaval occurred in the Realm of All Spirits. It was likely a successful step in the Queen’s plan to tear it open. Twelve days later, a Fountain of Youth appeared in the plantation of the Direwolf Settlement.”

“Precious water began to gush out endlessly, pooling in a low-lying area to form a small pond, more spectacular than any Fountain of Youth eruption in the Empire’s history. It looks as though it will continue for quite some time. This is all because Queen Bel is tearing apart the Realm of All Spirits, causing spirit essence to leak out and creating such a massive eruption. I suspect there is more than one such Fountain…”

Harenadak smiled faintly, then her voice turned cold. “If I found such a large Fountain of Youth near the savage tribes, I’d also think of keeping it all for myself. A pity that you, now a Great Shaman specializing in Nature Spirits, couldn’t sense the anomaly in the Realm of All Spirits and didn’t know that fountain wasn’t the only one.”

Tumen could no longer explain himself. He shook his head with a bitter smile, his voice dry as he said, “You suspect I killed Vava and the others to keep the secret of the Fountain of Youth to myself?”

Harenadak stared into Tumen’s constricted eyes, an unspoken disappointment welling within her. She sighed and shook her head. “Tumen, after my grandfather went to the Realm of All Spirits, you always protected me. I trusted you most of all, asking the Pale Sovereign to prioritize restoring your magical power and even entrusting Beldina to your care… So, tell me, you drank from the Fountain of Youth, so why has your magical power grown weaker?”

Tumen tried his best to explain. “I told you, I lost some of my Nature Spirits dealing with the White-armored Ant-man Queen and its swarm. That’s not something drinking from the Fountain of Youth can restore.”

Harenadak sneered, “Hmph. How fortunate that you didn’t say you used the forbidden powers of Nature Spirit quasi-spells to deal with a few mere savages. Instead, you blame a White-armored Ant-man Queen for your diminished power, then present a few scraps of some unknown insect corpses and tell me this is your proof?”

The more the Chief Priestess adopted this attitude, the more Tumen felt he could not reveal the news about Bel’s father. He remained silent for a moment before asking, “How is Bel’s condition?”

“That’s not your concern. In any case, a Great Shaman of Nature Spirits like you can’t help Bel. I had you watch over Bel in the Main Chamber to shield you from the other shamans’ attacks. Now that the settlement has a Fountain of Youth, there’s no need for you to hide by the Queen’s side anymore.”

In the end, Tumen was a Great Shaman who had partaken of the Fountain of Youth, and Harenadak would not kill him for his selfishness. All Assyrians were selfish and cruel; had Harenadak been in his shoes, she too would have inevitably entertained the thought of killing to monopolize a Fountain of Youth. Besides, Vava and the private soldiers were already dead. Harenadak had no need to execute a Great Shaman to avenge the dead. Moreover, Tumen was, in a sense, her grand-uncle, and he had pioneered many wondrous Nature Spirit quasi-spells.

Of course, Harenadak had no intention of letting Tumen off so easily. She softened her expression and said, “To celebrate the emergence of the Fountain of Youth and to let all Assyrians know that this is a gift from the Queen, I plan to organize a large-scale Blood Sacrifice celebration in one month’s time. It will last for thirty days, and we will prepare two thousand sacrificial offerings. We shall use Mokemo’s sons as the main offerings. The rest will be contributed by the families of the upper city in the form of slaves and savages. Whichever family contributes the most offerings will receive a larger share of water from the Fountain of Youth.”

A flicker of hope ignited in Tumen. He asked thoughtfully, “You want me to preside over this ritual?”

Harenadak sneered inwardly and shook her head. “Blood sacrifices have been ongoing in the city, with anywhere from a few to a few dozen offerings daily, all presided over by the Ancestral Spirit Shamans in rotation. You have never involved yourself. The Ancestral Spirit Shamans would absolutely never agree to you presiding over the Blood Sacrifice celebration.”

“I have a more important task for you.”

The beautiful, enchanting shamaness paused before continuing, “You yourself have said that when the forbidden arts of Nature Spirit quasi-spells are used, some Nature Spirits will forsake the shaman, and the shaman’s magical power will weaken. This is because no one can be as beloved by the Nature Spirits as Bel. Even for you, it would take some time to restore your number of Nature Spirits. In truth, Animal Spirit quasi-spells also have their drawbacks. Animal Spirits have very short natural lifespans and can only sustain themselves through the soul power of the shaman or warrior, which in turn harms the host’s own soul.”

“This is why most Assyrian Shamans, even though they can see Nature and Animal Spirits, are generally unwilling to summon them, preferring to borrow the power of Ancestral Spirits. Only Beldina can do so. She favors Nature and Animal Spirits, distributing a portion of the Realm of All Spirits’ power to her Guardian Spirits and Flower Fey.”

“So, could we not emulate the Queen? After using a forbidden art, could we immediately send the Nature or Animal Spirit into the Realm of All Spirits, letting it draw upon the spirit essence to sustain and repair itself? Once the Flower Fey has recovered its strength, we could summon it again. That way, a Nature Spirit Shaman would not need to find new Nature Spirits, and their period of weakness would be greatly shortened.”

Tumen was aghast. “You… you want to merge the three great branches of quasi-spells—Ancestral, Nature, and Animal Spirits—into one? That’s impossible! Nature and Animal Spirits have low intelligence; they’d be devoured by Ancestral or Holy Spirits in the Realm of All Spirits… A shaman can’t protect their Flower Fey and Guardian Spirits like Bel can.”

Harenadak spoke with profound meaning, “Lately, the Pale Sovereign has rarely responded to my greetings.”

The Pale Sovereign was a pan-conscious collective of Assyrian Ancestral Spirits. Protecting their people was a common ground among all Assyrian Ancestral Spirits, and this defined the Pale Sovereign’s code of conduct. However, She was now a beast within the Realm of All Spirits. Any soul sent there by an Assyrian Shaman, She would devour on sight. As Her power grew, Her own wisdom was steadily eroding. Although the Pale Sovereign was of great help to the Assyrian descendants, as long as She was in the Realm of All Spirits, anyone who entered would die, making spiritual resurrection utterly impossible.

No matter how much the Assyrian Shamans revered the Pale Sovereign, they would not feed their own spirits to Her.

The Pale Sovereign had to die. Only when She was completely dead, turned into pure spirit essence, would the Realm of All Spirits be meaningful to the Assyrian Empire again.

Harenadak’s large-scale Blood Sacrifice celebration was, on one hand, intended to completely dismantle the warrior factions left behind by the great King Mokemo, but its deeper purpose was to bring about the Pale Sovereign’s fall.

Then, Queen Beldina would be able to seize complete authority over the Realm of All Spirits, tear it open in one fell swoop, and trap The Undying One on Spirit-Devouring Island for good.

In the future, Assyrian Nobles would once again be able to be reborn in the Realm of All Spirits, but Queen Bel favored Nature and Animal Spirits. She would establish a new Order for the Realm. The coexistence of Ancestral, Nature, and Animal Spirits within the Realm of All Spirits would align with the new Order brought by Beldina. As the one who proposed the Integration of the three spirits, Harenadak would also solidify her position in the Queen’s eyes.

She would not allow Tumen to surpass her, but she could not kill him either. Otherwise, when Queen Bel tore open the Realm of All Spirits and returned to the physical world, she would be very angry to learn of Tumen’s fate.

Beldina had shaped the Flower Fey-form Nature Spirits for the Assyrian Empire, and Tumen had created Nature Spirit quasi-spells based on the Flower Fey. Harenadak needed the shaman Tumen to continue to apply his talents to her plan.

“Only by integrating the three great branches of quasi-spells can we resolve the divisions among the shamans.”

Harenadak struck the green-stone-paved floor with her serpent staff, producing a crisp sound. Four strong Beast Spirit Warriors immediately entered the Main Chamber. Without a word, they surrounded the Great Shaman Tumen.

“I have arranged a safe place for you. You can go there and research how to use the Realm of All Spirits to nurture Nature Spirits. When you have achieved results, the Ancestral Spirit Shamans in the city will surely no longer give you trouble, and you can come out. As for the Fountain of Youth water you brought back, I will give it to your family,” Harenadak said with a smile, her arms crossed.

Tumen knew very well that the Chief Priestess’s words were merely a pleasantry. In truth, she was placing him under house arrest. The so-called safe place would surely be devoid of any seed of life, nor would there be any Nature Spirits for him to summon and command.

Things having reached this point, Tumen had no choice but to comply. He followed the four Beast Spirit Warriors out. Before leaving the Main Chamber, he turned back and said, “That Fountain of Youth has fallen into the hands of the savage headhunters. They will retaliate against our settlements. I hope you prepare for it.”

“I know.” A victor’s smile played on Harenadak’s lips as she waved her hand, signaling the Beast Spirit Warriors to escort the Great Shaman Tumen away.

Having toppled her most powerful competitor, Harenadak was in high spirits. When Beldina awakened, she would naturally have a story ready to win Her Majesty’s dependence and trust. It wouldn’t be long now. A few days after the grand Blood Sacrifice celebration concluded, Beldina would likely be able to tear open the Realm of All Spirits, break free from the influence of “Angelina’s Sorrow,” and then awaken. She must be very unhappy after being trapped in the Realm of All Spirits for so many days, and the responsibility for that would, of course, be laid at the feet of the Great Shaman Tumen.

As for the savage headhunters Tumen had mentioned, Harenadak paid them no mind. The savages’ fundamental talent was too poor. Even if they had occupied a Fountain of Youth, how much could they possibly improve? At most, they would grow a few scales, transforming from Scaleless savage headhunters into Assyrians with a few scales. The savages’ strength was hardly a threat to the settlements on the capital city’s periphery.

It had been a long time since the descendants of the Assyrian Empire had held such a large-scale Blood Sacrifice celebration, and the promise of shares of water from the Fountain of Youth ignited the热情 and cruel Nature of the Assyrian Nobles. They spent vast sums to purchase savage slaves and even dispatched their family’s private soldiers to participate directly in slave-capturing operations, all to gather enough offerings for the upcoming celebration. The warrior alliance that had been secretly watching the old king’s offspring began to dissolve, even tacitly allowing the shamans to use the old king’s sons as the main offerings for this celebration.

Just as the Assyrian Nobles were making their final preparations for the Blood Sacrifice celebration, news reached the capital city that savage headhunters, allied with a large number of beastmen, had breached an outlying settlement.

The Assyrian families in the upper city were stunned and skeptical of this news. It was not until refugees from the settlement flooded into the capital city, weeping to the city’s inhabitants about the strength and ferocity of the savage headhunters and beastmen, that everyone realized the savage tribes had truly united, leading a beastman tribe to launch a bloody campaign of revenge against the Empire’s settlements.

One piece of bad news followed another. The allied savage forces successively overran two small settlements, killing nearly a thousand Assyrian residents and seizing large quantities of weapons, equipment, and food. Although they had yet to threaten the capital city, their area of operations was now not far from the Direwolf Settlement, where the Fountain of Youth had appeared.

The Assyrian capital was thrown into chaos. The upper-echelon shamans and warriors hurriedly summoned their private soldiers, organizing an army to march out to the peripheral settlements. Meanwhile, refugees from the settlements converged on the capital, and among them were the members of the Randall expedition team, disguised as Assyrian refugees.

Chapter 861: Infiltration

The jungle capital built by the Assyrian descendants had no defensive structures like walls, moats, or towers. The pyramid temple was the heart of the city, and the area surrounding it was the upper district, home to wealthy Assyrian families. They built circular stone houses resembling bunkers, where hundreds or even thousands of people lived together, subdivided into many smaller family units. These compounds also contained shared facilities like warehouses and workshops.

The Assyrian families of the upper district were called the upper nobility. In contrast, there was a lower district designated for slaves.

The total population of the upper nobility in the jungle capital was close to sixty thousand, while the slave population exceeded one hundred thirty thousand. But not all slaves were the same. One type was the ‘mastered slave,’ who belonged to a specific noble family. They lived in large, rectangular, earthen and wooden longhouses on the outskirts of the upper district. Considered the communal property of the noble families, they served as slave soldiers and laborers, or worked on the nobles’ plantations.

Mastered slaves constituted the vast majority of the lower district’s population, numbering over one hundred thousand. The remaining few thousand were ‘masterless slaves.’ These were individuals who were either old and frail, sickly and weak, or physically disabled. Unwanted in the slave markets and cruelly abandoned by their former masters, they could only eke out a meager existence on the outskirts of the lower district, living in simple thatched huts. Since they were barred from working on the plantations, masterless slaves survived mainly by begging and stealing, or by risking their lives to forage and hunt deep in the jungle, though pitifully few ever returned alive.

In Assyrian society, masterless slaves were outcasts, not even considered part of the lowest social stratum. The Assyrian Shamans wouldn’t even use them as sacrificial offerings, as it was deemed meaningless. The masterless slaves were almost exclusively female, having lost their fertility and ability to work. As for the male slaves, they were typically offered as sacrifices to the All Spirits by their masters long before they lost their value.

In the last six months, some special cases had appeared among the masterless slaves: the families of the Snake Eye Guard. Their husbands or sons had once been the slave-soldier personal guards of the great King Mokemo. The malevolent Queen had transformed the great King Mokemo and his entire Snake Eye Guard into undead puppets. The wives and daughters of the Snake Eye slave soldiers were then exiled to the outskirts of the lower district. No noble family dared to buy the female relatives of the Snake Eye Guard as slaves; the Shamans in power wanted the once-illustrious Snake Eye Guard to be utterly forgotten.

Even living on the very edge of the lower district, the Snake Eye female slaves were frequently watched by the Shamans’ slave soldiers. The ruling powers wanted to see who might still be secretly associating with them.

In the past two days, the situation for the Snake Eye families had changed. Tens of thousands of refugees from the settlements had flooded into the jungle city. Noble families were willing to take in wealthy Warriors, while a greater number of slave refugees flowed into the capital’s slave market. Many other homeless people had set their sights on the dilapidated thatched huts of the lower district.

During this time, the Shamans and Warriors in the capital were busy mobilizing their private soldiers to strike at the brazenly audacious savage headhunters and could no longer spare the effort to watch the families of the Snake Eye Guard. Of course, this was not good news for the Snake Eye female slaves. Without anyone watching over them, they would only become targets of abuse for the refugees.

Tao De, Red Wolf, and Rogers were mixed in among the refugees from the settlements, secretly infiltrating the outskirts of the lower district.

In truth, Narsen and the three senior knights had all been willing to infiltrate the Assyrian capital to investigate Beldina’s condition. Unfortunately, the Fountain of Youth could not alter the physical features of Narsen or the senior knights. Narsen could only dispatch Ghostface Swordsman Tao De to lead Red Wolf and Rogers on the infiltration and reconnaissance mission.

Through their careful interrogation of the slave trader Xinu, the three of them had gained a considerable understanding of the Assyrian Empire’s capital, including the details about the Snake Eye families being used by the Shamans as both a warning and bait. Xinu had even voluntarily offered his token of trust, stating that his confidant left behind in the capital could cooperate with the three-man squad’s mission.

However, Tao De didn’t trust Xinu, and certainly not the confidant he had left behind in the Assyrian capital. Tao De also had no intention of contacting the Snake Eye families, who were familiar with the upper district. Instead, he planned to find a remote thatched hut to serve as a base of operations for the reconnaissance squad.

The great lords generally followed a rule: core family members were not to be sent on suicide missions. While Tao De was carrying out this infiltration and reconnaissance mission, My Lady Charlotte had instructed him to act according to the circumstances, but his actions had to remain within the trio’s capabilities, with their own safety as the top priority. Relying on Rogers’ and Red Wolf’s danger sense, combined with his own intellect, Tao De believed they could accomplish a great deal.

The Assyrian capital, hidden in its jungle sanctuary, had no custom of maintaining a vigilant watch. In a way, the masterless slaves gathered at the edge of the lower district served as the city’s warning perimeter. As long as one didn’t cause a major disturbance, the city guards generally wouldn’t come to the edge of the lower district to investigate. This, in fact, made the infiltration easier for Tao De and his team.

Disguised as Assyrian refugees, the three men blended into the outskirts of the lower district as evening approached, lying down beside a bush and feigning sleep, or even death. At present, many Assyrian refugees were sleeping rough in the lower district. During the day, they would go to the slave market to sell themselves, hoping to be noticed by a member of the upper nobility and secure a place to live. Lying by the bush, Tao De and his companions looked no different from the other refugees and attracted no attention.

Once night fell, the lower district was plunged into darkness. Only then did Tao De, Red Wolf, and Rogers use the cover of night, moving hunched over and tiptoeing between the simple thatched huts.

Tao De’s gaze was as sharp as a falcon’s, and he quickly selected a thatched hut bordering the forest. He made a hand signal to his allies behind him, and Red Wolf and Rogers understood immediately. The three crept over. Red Wolf pressed his ear against the wall to listen, then signaled back to Tao De: three men and two women were inside; four of them were awake but posed no threat. Then, the Silver-rank Ferocious Warrior slipped silently into the hut.

Assyrians had decent night vision, and the three Assyrian men reacted differently upon seeing the intruder, but Red Wolf fully demonstrated the formidable power of a Silver-rank Ferocious Warrior. He closed the distance like a phantom, his strikes as fast as lightning. His left thumb jabbed into the temples of the three Assyrian refugees one after another, while his right palm pressed against each of their chests in succession. A slight burst of power was all it took to stop their hearts.

Before the three Assyrian refugees could even register what was happening, they had departed for the Realm of All Spirits. Red Wolf was rather pleased with himself. Drinking from the Fountain of Youth had restored his sight, but his ability to fight blind had not disappeared. Most importantly, by combining his fire of the mind with his combat intuition, he had first taken out the refugee who was about to shout, preventing them from making a single sound.

Had it been Rogers, he would have been heavy-handed and certainly made some noise while killing his targets. And Tao De wouldn’t have been able to tell which of the three Assyrians would cry out first. Only Red Wolf could so effortlessly control the situation, instantly killing the three adult refugees without alerting anyone.

The other conscious person, an Assyrian woman, showed no intention of shouting or speaking. Red Wolf considered for a moment and spared her for the time being. Within ten meters, he was confident he could silence her forever before she could make a sound.

Tao De and Rogers entered the hut one after the other. They quickly scanned their surroundings and saw three naked Assyrian refugees lying on the ground, lifeless. Two other Assyrian women were also completely unclothed. The one who was awake appeared to be in her thirties. She had a delicate, pointed chin, a long neck, and a well-proportioned frame; by Assyrian standards, she was actually quite attractive. But her eyes were sunken and her cheeks were gaunt, clear signs of malnutrition. The female slave’s gaze was hollow and numb, as if the sudden intruders and the slain refugees had nothing to do with her. The other woman lay motionless on the ground, unconscious. Although they couldn’t see her face, her slender and petite figure indicated she was a young, underage Assyrian girl.

Considering the scene in the hut, it was not difficult to imagine what the two Assyrian women had endured.

Tao De coldly averted his gaze, then quickly and carefully inspected the refugees’ bodies. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, he gave a low command in the Assyrian language: “Bury them all.”

Rogers nodded. He carefully unwrapped the wicker basket from its animal hide covering, then knelt and began to dig with his bare hands. His ten fingers were like hooks, gouging out large chunks of earth with every scoop. He quickly excavated a deep pit inside the hut, tossed all three bodies into it, and then filled it back in with soil.

Rogers had mastered the ability to voluntarily go berserk, making him a true mid-rank Mind Warrior. He had long practiced secret arts and consumed precious secret potions. Though still young, his physique was imposing, his sinewy muscles like clusters of fine steel wire, and he stood nearly two meters tall. According to Narsen, the boy was ‘overdeveloped.’ Compared to the lean, wiry Assyrians, Rogers’ build was extremely rare and incredibly intimidating.

As she watched him stomp the earth firm with his feet, a flicker of awareness gradually returned to the Assyrian woman’s numb eyes. She clasped her hands together, forming a circular opening between them.

This subtle maneuver might have seemed like an involuntary posture of a frightened woman. Tao De, however, knew that it was, in fact, a secret hand signal of the Snake Eye Guard.

According to Xinu’s testimony, the great King Mokemo had trained over a thousand Snake Eye slave soldiers. On the bloody night in the Assyrian capital, most of the Snake Eye slave soldiers were captured by the Shaman Queen, Harenadak, but a considerable number had also escaped into the jungle amidst the chaos.

Tao De cursed his rotten luck. He had deliberately avoided the area where the Snake Eye families lived, but he hadn’t anticipated that refugees from the settlements would abduct two of their women to this remote hut. The adult Assyrian woman had obviously mistaken Rogers for one of the escaped Snake Eye slave soldiers and was using the special hand signal of the Snake Eye Guard to test their identity.

The Ghostface Swordsman knelt in front of the woman and, in fluent Assyrian language, said in a low voice, “Remain silent. Ask for my permission before you speak, or I will send you to meet the All Spirits.”

Seeing the female Assyrian slave nod her head repeatedly, a cold, cruel smile appeared on Tao De’s handsome face. He added, “Wake up your ally, teach her to be quiet, and I’ll get you something to eat. Then you will answer my questions.”

By questioning the Snake Eye female slave, Tao De and his men learned more details about Assyrian society and also confirmed that the intelligence provided by Xinu was completely accurate. However, Xinu, as a member of the upper nobility, was unaware that the great King Mokemo still held a powerful appeal for the slaves of the lower district.

If someone were to raise the banner of the great King Mokemo, it could incite a slave rebellion. Unfortunately, in the face of the Shamans who wielded extraordinary power, the old King’s appeal was meaningless, much like how refugees in the human kingdoms could never rebel against the rule of the Knight-Nobles. Any single Knight could easily crush a gang of refugee bandits, regardless of their numbers, because combat is not determined by numbers alone. More important are courage and conviction, and things like courage and conviction often require the support of extraordinary power. The Assyrian slaves were only capable of fighting amongst themselves; the Undead Behemoths created by the Shamans were more than enough to crush any rebellion in the lower district.

Tao De looked down on the remnants of the old King’s supporters, but he also didn’t care about the lives of the Assyrian slaves. The objective conditions for inciting a slave rebellion in the lower district were now present. This could serve as a trump card, but it was best not to use it if it could be avoided. If he truly needed to play this card, Tao De wouldn’t care if the lower district ran with rivers of blood.

For this very reason, Tao De did not kill the two Snake Eye female slaves. Early the next morning, he had Rogers stay behind in the hut to watch them, while he and Red Wolf took the important wicker basket and went out to find the burial pit that the Assyrian Shamans used to dispose of sacrificial offerings.

With directions from the Snake Eye female slave, the burial pit was not difficult to find. It was located in a dense field of wormwood on the city’s west side. Red Wolf returned to his old thieving habits, stealthily pilfering some oil paints and clothing to disguise himself and Tao De as mastered slaves. Carrying their wicker baskets, they looked like laborers on their way to the plantations and successfully snuck into the wormwood field, where they found the burial pit.

In truth, ‘burial pit’ was an inaccurate description. Hundreds, even thousands, of headless corpses had been casually discarded in the tall grass. The countless bodies were piled on top of each other, and the air was thick with the stench of rot and blood, attracting swarms of carrion insects. The scene was so utterly gruesome that it plunged both Red Wolf and Tao De into a somber, depressed mood.

Red Wolf covered his nose and ground his teeth. “This is the most horrific scene I’ve ever witnessed,” he said. “The Assyrians’ evil seems to be ingrained in their very nature.”

Tao De stated with a wooden expression, “But they believe in ashes to ashes, dust to dust; that death is not an end but a new beginning. A corpse is just one of all things and should return to them. That is why the sacrificial offerings are coated in toxic oil, to prevent scavengers from eating them so that the bodies can decompose naturally. This weed-choked field will become a fertile plantation. We must learn the Assyrian way of thinking if we are to defeat them.”

Red Wolf couldn’t help but ask, “Can you accept their customs?”

Tao De thought for a moment, then shook his head. “I cannot accept it! During the Era of the Chosen, we humans did similar things. But this must never be allowed to happen again!”

Red Wolf nodded in agreement. As he took off his wicker basket, he said, “Let’s hurry… Imosen’s little darlings should be waking up. I wonder, if they eat these corpses, will they be poisoned to death?”

“…You’ll have to ask the Wizard himself.”

Tao De lifted the animal hide covering the wicker basket. He first took out a sleeping, large-beaked bird, then a bizarrely shaped horned frog. He casually cut the frog’s skin and squeezed a drop of its blood into the large-beaked bird’s beak.

The brightly-feathered large-beaked bird twitched a few times, opened its flame-like eyes, and took flight. It circled twice in the sky before landing back on the ground, letting out a harsh squawk.

Tao De and Red Wolf, however, could understand the bird’s meaning.

“My Supreme Lord, how can there be so many corpses? Quick, dump all the young Horned Lizard-beasts in. They’ll grow into Horned Lizard war beasts in no time.”

Over one hundred of the little monsters were poured into the burial pit. Tao De then repeated Red Wolf’s question. Imoson the Wizard, using his Wisdom Guidance Wizardry, answered from a great distance: “Haha, don’t worry about the poison. The Horned Lizard-beasts that grow up here will simply gain a poison-resistance attribute and an additional poison ability. Of course, their poison attacks will likely be ineffective against the Assyrians.”

Tao De nodded and asked, “Your Excellency, how are things on My lord Narsen’s end?”

Imosen responded through the large-beaked bird’s cry, “With me here, the situation will only get better, never worse.”

The terrifying aspect of Aberration Wizardry was its ability to sustain war with war. Although Imosen could only control just over seventy Horned Lizard-beasts at once, war provided an endless supply of the flesh and blood he needed to cultivate more Aberrant Beasts. A Horned Lizard war beast’s maximum weight could exceed four hundred kilograms, making it a powerful monster in its own right, especially skilled at mobile surprise attacks. Aside from their low intelligence, they had almost no major weaknesses.

“Do you have any intelligence for me to pass on to the Lord Legion Commander?” Imosen asked.

Tao De thought for a moment before replying, “The Assyrians may have discovered a Fountain of Youth at a settlement called ‘Zero Wolf.’ The private armies of the upper nobility are mainly providing support in that direction. However, the main army controlled by the Shaman Queen has not yet left the city. Please relay this message to the Legion Commander; My lord Narsen will know what to do.”

Imosen said with some impatience, “What about news of Beldina?”

“None for now… However, we have two Snake Eye female slaves under our control. Through them, I will find Miss Beldina’s whereabouts as soon as possible.”

“Beldina is more than likely being held in the pyramid at the city’s center… I still have a little time right now, so I’ll fly over and take a look.”

Seeing the large-beaked bird fly recklessly towards the city center, Tao De cursed under his breath. He said to Red Wolf, “We need to follow it, quickly… If His Excellency Imosen’s bird can’t find us after a while, our line of communication with the Legion Commander will be cut off.”

Chapter 862: The Planner

In the evening, Tao De and Red Wolf returned to their thatched-hut hideout. Rogers noticed that neither of them looked well; Red Wolf’s eyes were darting about, clearly frightened. Rogers was curious about what the two of them had encountered, but unfortunately, his Assyrian was poor, so he could only keep his mouth shut and silently take the stolen food, clothes, and a Horned Lizard-beast cub in a cage from Red Wolf.

Commander Tao De had set a rule for their three-man squad: in the Assyrian capital city, they could pretend to be mute, but they must never use the Common Tongue of men!

The human language itself posed a huge risk to the reconnaissance team. Rogers was a good boy who followed the rules. When Tao De told him to act mute, he would not utter a single word. If he were to let something slip, Tao De wouldn’t punish him, but the two Assyrian female slaves’ lives would not be spared.

Rogers, with his background as a mountain folk hunter, was no saint, but he was unwilling to let others die because of his mistakes.

Tao De, however, had a heart of stone. Other than proving his own nobility by swearing fealty to the noble His Highness Randall, he had few principles. If the two insignificant Assyrian female slaves needed to be silenced, he would naturally kill them. Before that, without even considering how much the female slaves might have overheard, he explained directly to Rogers in Assyrian, “We just went to the temple pyramid in the upper district. We saw a giant snake made of black smoke coiled on the temple’s platform. It was at least twice the size of the Giant Python of the marsh, and it swallowed that person’s ‘Messenger’.”

“…Without the Messenger, we’re in trouble now.”

Tao De was both annoyed and frustrated. Imoson the Wizard had acted on his own initiative. It was hard to say whether he had exposed the reconnaissance team, but with the terrifying monster snake eating the large-beaked bird messenger, the link between the team and the Legion Commander was severed. They could no longer coordinate their actions.

Rogers was still trying to imagine what a giant snake twice the size of the Giant Python of the marsh would look like. The Giant Python in Lizard Marsh was fifteen to twenty meters long, with a body thicker than a water bucket. A snake twice that size would be over thirty meters long and as thick as a water tank. If you hung it up, it would almost be as tall as the castle in Laketon.

How could such a large snake possibly exist?

Rogers, not understanding Assyrian very well, missed Tao De’s description of “black smoke” and assumed his two allies had seen things.

Red Wolf was truly terrified. The giant black smoke snake coiling around the upper platform of the pyramid, raising its head and breathing out black smoke, looked like a monster from a nightmare, delivering a profound shock to his soul. Red Wolf was already a sensitive soul—to put it bluntly, he was timid. If the mythical three-headed lizard Poltanos hadn’t been residing in the depths of his mind, that abruptly appearing black smoke snake would have inflicted irreparable spiritual damage upon him.

Fortunately, Red Wolf had not cultivated the Poltanos Secret Art, or he would never have reached the Silver rank. Now, he was instead worried about Imoson the Wizard’s situation. “The ‘Messenger’ was killed,” he said, concerned. “That person must not be faring well either… If something goes wrong over there, what do we do?”

In fact, Tao De could roughly guess the giant black smoke snake’s origins. He had personally seen the black wolf and porcupine summoned by the Animal Spirit Shaman. Those supernatural creatures, resembling ghosts, were also formed from black smoke and could shift between tangible and intangible forms. Although they were difficult to deal with, they weren’t immortal; they would return to the Shaman’s body as black smoke after taking enough damage.

However, compared to the might of the giant black smoke snake, the black wolf and porcupine were minuscule. Correspondingly, the Shaman controlling the snake had to be a powerful spellcaster, perhaps the Shamaness Queen herself.

Regardless of who that Legendary Great Shaman was, with them guarding the temple, it was highly likely that Beldina was imprisoned inside, and the difficulty of the Randall expedition team’s rescue mission had just skyrocketed.

Tao De estimated that the Horned Lizard-beast Imoson had set up in the burial pit was unlikely to defeat the giant black smoke snake. Philip II in his prime might have had a chance, but it had taken Imoson over two years to cultivate Philip II. The current Aberrant Dire Bear was far from being as powerful as Philip II was.

All in all, this was a crucial piece of intelligence. On his way back, Tao De had begun to consider two things. First, he needed to obtain more detailed information, including investigating the identity and abilities of the Legendary Shaman, and have Lord Narsen and My Lady Charlotte find a way to lure them out of the city. Second, the reconnaissance team had to re-establish a communication channel with Lord Narsen as soon as possible. Otherwise, even the most detailed intelligence would be useless if it couldn’t be delivered in time.

Tao De bent down and stared at the older female slave. “Thatch, you can speak now.”

The Snake Eye female slave’s lips moved. Her voice was weak. “I… My name isn’t ‘Thatch’.”

“From now on, your name is ‘Thatch’.”

Tao De straightened up, looking down at the Snake Eye female slave from his superior height. He said flatly, “Do you know about a giant snake ghost in the temple? Its body is made of black smoke, and its eyes are like burning flames…”

The newly, forcibly renamed female slave paused for a moment. After thinking hard, she shook her head. “When the great King Mokemo was alive, I never heard of any giant snake ghost in the temple.”

Of course, the Snake Eye female slave’s knowledge was limited. If she knew secrets of this level, the Shamaness Queen’s faction wouldn’t have allowed her to live this long.

Tao De turned to look at the Assyrian girl beside her and said, “Is she your daughter?”

The two female slaves looked similar; it was easy to see their blood relation. Without waiting for Thatch’s reply, Tao De grabbed the girl’s thin wrist, used a sharp piece of stone to slit one of her fingers, and a bead of dark red blood welled up, causing the Horned Lizard-beast cub in the cage to stir restlessly.

In Thatch’s eyes, the Horned Lizard-beast cub was just a strange horned frog. Its eyes were blood-red, its skin was covered in scales like a lizard’s, and its mouth was filled with two rows of fine, sharp teeth. It constantly clawed and bit at the grass cage, trying to get out and suck the blood from the girl’s finger. Although this strange horned frog was only the size of a human palm, its bloodthirsty and terrifying madness sent a chill down Thatch’s spine.

Tao De pinched Thatch’s daughter’s finger, squeezed out two drops of blood to feed the Horned Lizard-beast cub, then tossed the cage into a corner. He handed the flatbread and dried meat that Red Wolf had stolen to the Assyrian girl and said, “From now on, I’ll call you Poison Frog… Your task is to feed the little monster a few drops of your blood and ten insects every day, and in return, you’ll get food, water, and clothes from me. Remember, you must not let it out of its cage, and don’t feed it any extra insects or blood.”

The Assyrian girl nodded and began to wolf down the food in her hands.

Tao De paid her no more attention, turning instead to Thatch. “We brought you back some clothes. You are to go out these next few days and ask about the giant snake in the temple. You can come back here to eat and sleep every day, but if you reveal our secret, you’ll have to go ask the All Spirits for Poison Frog back.”

The fact that these two Snake Eye female slaves had survived until now meant they possessed a strong will to live. Moreover, they were familiar with the Assyrian capital city’s environment and had some connections. Rather than having the reconnaissance team run around blindly in the city, it was better to let Thatch go out and gather intelligence. Tao De really had no better way. Even if the Snake Eye female slave betrayed them, with Red Wolf’s and Rogers’s danger sense, they could escape in advance and wouldn’t have to worry about being surrounded by Assyrian Nobles.

Tao De wasn’t pinning all his hopes on the Snake Eye female slave. Over the next few days, he and Red Wolf went out often, doing their best to gather intelligence. The tall Rogers stayed behind at the hideout, responsible for feeding the Horned Lizard-beast cub, keeping its intake to a minimum, hoping that thisspecially-cared-for Biological Aberration would attract Imoson the Wizard’s attention and allow him to re-establish contact with the team.

The Snake Eye female slave, Thatch, returned every day, but her investigation into the giant black smoke snake had made no progress. It was not until the evening of the fifth day that Rogers sensed her stealthily approaching their thatched-hut hideout with someone who harbored malicious intent.

It was a strong Assyrian man, about thirty-something years old, past the peak for an Assyrian warrior. He had a noticeable potbelly, but his movements were still agile, suggesting he had received rather strict martial skills training. He was very cautious, refusing to get any closer than twenty meters from the hut, muttering something to Thatch.

They spoke in hushed tones, but Red Wolf heard them clearly. The gist of it was that the man refused to enter the hut and wanted Thatch to call the people inside out. He was only responsible for leading the outsiders to meet the person who wanted to see them.

Thatch could only obey the Assyrian man. She entered the hut with a nervous heart, just about to explain to the three outsiders that she had been coerced. But Red Wolf had already dragged the Assyrian man from outside into the hut. He had first circled out of the hut, giving the man no chance to react, and subdued him in an instant without even alerting the Snake Eye female slave.

The captive’s face was covered in greasepaint, his original features obscured, and his eyes were filled with horror and Despair. He had come with the resolve to sacrifice himself, to contact the suspected remnants of the Snake Eye Guard on behalf of his Master. If this was a trap set by the vicious Queen, he would have committed suicide with his poison fang at the first opportunity, but his jaw had been dislocated by his captor. Not only was suicide impossible, but the man had simply pressed a hand to his back and pushed him forward. No matter how he struggled or resisted, it was useless. He felt like a marionette, unable to even turn his head, forced step by step into the narrow, dark hut.

Tao De looked coldly at the captive Red Wolf had brought back. He took out a wooden carving, waved it in front of the man, and said, “I don’t care who you are, but you should know what I want to learn… Tell me the answer, and I’ll let you go. If you don’t know, I’ll kill you immediately.”

With a crisp crack, Red Wolf reset the captive’s jawbone. The Assyrian man moved his chin first, then said with a mix of shock and uncertainty, “You are men of House Xinu? Xinu… didn’t he go out on a slave raid and then disappear?”

A sharp glint appeared in Tao De’s narrowed eyes; even a fool could feel his murderous intent. The Assyrian man quickly said, “Don’t! I am…”

Tao De’s hand shot out and clamped around his neck, making his cervical vertebrae creak as if under an unbearable load. His eyes were calm as he said, “Only speak of things that interest me… This is your last chance. Understand?”

Red Wolf and Tao De had spent a long time in Quicksilver and had undergone rigorous training from the old spy. They knew well that in the reconnaissance team’s current situation, time was the most precious commodity. The captive’s identity, background, and purpose were all unimportant, because there was no way to verify any of it. Tao De only cared about information on the giant black smoke snake. He had originally planned to silence both the female slave and the captive, regardless of whether the captive revealed anything, but Tao De ultimately changed his mind.

The Assyrian man told Tao De and the others that the giant black smoke snake in the temple was the Shamaness Queen’s Guardian Spirit, and one of four. The Snake Spirit was named “Sausage,” the Bear Spirit was named “Sugar Jar,” the Tiger Spirit was named “Black Bread,” and the Eagle Spirit was named “Roast Chicken Leg.”

Tao De nearly lost control of his expression. The names of the four Guardian Spirits were bizarrely comical, and crucially, they were pronounced using words from the Common Tongue of men.

Without a doubt, the four Guardian Spirits did not belong to the Shamaness Queen, but to Beldina.

The captive didn’t know this, mistakenly believing the four Guardian Spirits belonged to Queen Harenadak. He also revealed that only the Shamaness Queen could enter the Main Chamber of the temple; without her permission, any other Shaman would be blocked by the four Guardian Spirits. The Queen had once hidden her great-uncle, Tumen the Great Shaman, in the Main Chamber to protect him from being besieged by other Ancestral Spirit Shamans.

The Assyrian man repeatedly claimed to be a servant of the old King Mokemo, currently doing business as a slave trader in the slave marketplace. Tao De, however, didn’t let him state his purpose at all, directly kicking him out along with the two Snake Eye female slaves.

After the slave trader and the Snake Eye female slaves left, Tao De and the others immediately packed their things, abandoned the thatched hut, and moved to another hideout.

Over the past few days, using force and stolen goods, they had developed some outer line informants among the Assyrian refugees and had prepared several other hideouts.

The three of them arrived at another thatched hut. Red Wolf took out food and copper beads, distributing them to the refugees living inside and telling them to spend the night elsewhere. These people had no ability to steal and relied entirely on the supplies provided by Red Wolf to get a full meal. They knew Red Wolf was coming to deal with stolen goods and were quite happy to provide cover for the chief of thieves.

Tao De’s decision not to silence the Snake Eye female slaves and the slave trader might bring some trouble, but it might also bring unexpected opportunities. Moving their hideout was a necessity. Tao De already had a plan in mind; he was now desperate to pass on the intelligence about Beldina to Narsen. Until they could make contact with the Legion Commander, they could only lie low and wait patiently.

Two more days passed. The Horned Lizard-beast cub’s eyes lit up with a flame-like red glow, and it was no longer hungry for insects and fresh meat. Rogers immediately told Tao De and Red Wolf the good news. After waiting for so long, Imoson the Wizard had finally noticed the abnormality in the Aberrant Beast cub and had used his Wisdom Guidance Wizardry to cast his will upon it.

After listening to Tao De’s report, Imoson fell silent for a moment before saying with emotion, “My Bel has become a Legendary-rank Great Shaman? I got thoroughly beaten up by her pets. My head was hurting so much I almost passed out… Heh heh, that’s my daughter, all right.”

“Your Excellency, the Snake Eye female slave Thatch and two Assyrian men have moved back into the original hut. They clearly hope I’ll go looking for them,” Tao De said.

Imoson, controlling the Horned Lizard-beast cub, let out a cooing sound and asked, “What… What do you mean by that?”

Tao De shook his head inwardly. My Lady Charlotte would have certainly guessed his intentions, but when dealing with a scholar-wizard like Imoson, one had to explain a bit more. “I showed the slave trader Xinu’s token of trust. Xinu went out with Tumen the Great Shaman, but in the end, only Tumen returned. Assuming Tumen told the Shamaness Queen that Xinu had sided with us, normally, the Queen should have sent an army to attack our stronghold at the Fountain of Youth. That didn’t happen, so Tumen most likely concealed our existence. Moreover, we haven’t heard anything about Tumen these past few days. He’s either dead or imprisoned. In any case, his situation is dire.”

“If the Assyrian warriors with Thatch aren’t Tumen’s men, then they are either the Queen’s men or a faction loyal to the old King. Now that they know Xinu’s private soldiers—that is, the three of us—have returned, their first thought will be that Xinu and the scattered Snake Eye Guard have regrouped.”

“…Uh, um, can you say that more simply?”

Tao De pursed his lips and continued, “Assuming the faction behind Thatch belongs to the old King, they have misjudged that the Snake Eye Guard and Xinu’s private soldiers are secretly gathering. This might give them the courage to start a rebellion.”

“Oh, I see what you mean.” The Horned Lizard-beast cub rolled its fiery red eyes and chirped, “The other possibility is that they’re the Shamaness Queen’s people. They’ve misunderstood that the remnants of the Snake Eye Guard have secretly gathered, so they’re trying to capture you. If they’re already prepared, can you still cause chaos?”

A cold smile tugged at the corner of Tao De’s mouth. “Your Excellency, this was a misjudgment to begin with, a type of mistake. We are not the remnants of the Snake Eye Guard, nor do we care if the old King’s people live or die. As long as we assassinate a few shamans, the Shamaness Queen’s people will misjudge that the remnants of the Snake Eye Guard are colluding with the old King’s faction in the city. When they can’t catch us, their only option will be to launch a major purge. The Assyrian Nobles who are grateful to the old King will then retaliate. That is our goal.”

“I know what is about to happen to this city, and I know how to make it happen. Please relay my plan to My Lady Charlotte and Father Dayn. I await your reply,” Tao De said sincerely.

After a short pause, Imoson responded, “My Lady Charlotte and His Excellency Dayn already know. They support your plan. My Lady says to go all out, but to be mindful of your own safety. She also said that we will rally our forces and feint an attack on the Fountain of Youth at the Direwolf Settlement to draw the Shamaness Queen and her main forces away from the city, creating more opportunities for you… The time limit on the Wizardry is almost up. We’ll be in touch again in two days.”

The red light in the Horned Lizard-beast cub’s eyes gradually faded as the Wizard’s will departed. Tao De couldn’t help but clench his fist. Many years ago, Quicksilver had orchestrated a refugee riot in Stonetooth City in the Dodor Kingdom. He had participated, but only as a pawn. The old spy Barol had been the planner behind the scenes.

Now, the situation in the Assyrian capital city was largely the same as in Stonetooth City. Both were on the brink of conflict due to internal strife caused by change, and the contradictions between interested parties were nearing a critical point. Although the authorities were beginning to redistribute benefits and the situation was improving, destruction was always simpler than construction.

Tao De reined in his excitement, his resolve to trigger an uprising in the Assyrian capital city now set. If they missed this special period, it would be much harder to stir up conflict between the various factions later.

Chapter 863: A Game of Factions

The Assyrian capital city was now abnormally prosperous. The din of voices in the marketplace and the slave market was deafening, and the sounds of merchants and customers haggling were ceaseless. The goods being traded included pottery, wood carvings, and tools; grains, fruits, and beast meat; gems, bone ornaments, and tusk jewelry; as well as live lizards, monkeys, fawns, and vibrantly feathered birds, all strung together with straw ropes. The hottest commodities were, by far, slaves, which included both refugee slaves and savage slaves.

The refugee slaves were all selling themselves. They drew a straight red line with oil paint from their forehead down, indicating they were masterless and for sale. If a customer stopped to look, they would enthusiastically introduce their skills. But by comparison, customers preferred the savage slaves.

Slave traders pushed naked savage captives onto a wooden platform. Noblewomen adorned with lavish ornaments stood below, critiquing the savages from head to toe, letting out jeering laughter from time to time. The slave traders shouted themselves hoarse, hawking their wares. When a customer took a liking to a savage slave, they would competitively shout out bids, and the highest bidder would lead the savage slave away. As for those unwanted savages, the disappointed slave traders would untie their ropes, kick them off the high platform, and then bring up the next batch of savage captives to continue the auction. The suddenly freed savage captives stood bewildered, driven out of the marketplace amidst the kicks and curses of the customers, completely unaware that they had just become masterless slaves.

Tao De blended into the crowd, observing with a cold eye. After so many days, he had figured out the Assyrians’ market rules. The refugee slaves were similar to the refugee workers of the Randell Fief; those who successfully sold themselves were like tenant households. This type of slave could own private property, and their right to life was protected by law. Once they had savings, they could even spend money to buy back their own freedom.

The city was currently overflowing with refugees, so supply far exceeded demand, but the ransom for a refugee slave could not be more than three times their sale price. This meant that if a noble family wanted to buy a skilled craftsman slave, they had to offer a high price to ensure the craftsman slave couldn’t afford the expensive ransom. If the sale price was too low, the craftsman slave could easily pay the ransom and find a new master.

Savage slaves were slaves in the truest sense, belonging to the noble Assyrian families as property. The money to buy one refugee slave could buy several savages, so of course the upper-class nobles prioritized purchasing savage captives.

The rules of the slave trade practiced by the Assyrians could absorb savages, cultivate craftsmen, and create wealth. Through sale and ransom, it helped poor families overcome difficulties, gradually expanding the population. This would then lead to the development of new settlements, allowing Assyrian society to enter a virtuous cycle. This was a policy promoted by generations of Assyrian great kings, and it had become an established system in the hands of the great King Mokemo.

Tao De couldn’t care less whether the great King Mokemo was wise and capable. He was certain of one thing: the noble families of the upper district would proactively solve the livelihood problems of the refugee slaves. It was profitable to do so; even if purchasing a refugee slave was a long-term investment, it would ultimately yield a two- or three-fold return.

Three days ago, the army of the Assyrian capital city, led by the Shamaness Queen, had finally set out for the Direwolf Settlement to fight off the invading savage headhunters and beastmen attackers. The force included over three thousand Assyrian warriors and more than two hundred giant undead puppets wrapped in burial shrouds. Logically speaking, Tao De should have waited for definite news from Imoson the Wizard before instigating an uprising in the city. But based on the transactions in the slave market, he felt he could delay no longer.

There were fewer and fewer savage slaves in the market. Once the noblewomen had no more savages to buy, they would turn their attention to the refugee slaves, and behind every slave was a family of several people. Once the refugee slaves’ livelihoods were secured, the people of the lower district would long for stability, and it would not be so easy for Tao De to stir up turmoil.

Tao De decided to make his move today. His assassination target was an Ancestral Spirit Shaman who passed through the marketplace every day.

More than a dozen burly Assyrian private soldiers armed with wooden clubs and stone hammers roughly pushed the crowd aside, clearing a path through the thronged street for a sedan chair carried by four slaves. The Ancestral Spirit Shaman sat on the chair. He looked to be in the prime of his life, wearing a headdress of gray snake-tailed vulture feathers. He had a long, thin face, and his pupils constricted within triangular eyes, giving him a vicious gaze. He was like a venomous snake in human form, and his entire being emanated an aura that felt slick, cold, and bloody. This was no mere description of his temperament, but a manifestation of power that influenced reality.

The sanitation in the Assyrian marketplace was terrible. Animal and human waste could be seen everywhere, and flies and mosquitoes buzzed about chaotically, yet not a single insect came within five meters of the Shaman.

Tao De could ignite the fire of his mind and keep even a feather from landing on him, but he could not, like this Shaman, repel insects with his mere aura. Even the Silver-rank Ferocious Warriors, Red Wolf and Macy, couldn’t do this.

Without a doubt, this Ancestral Spirit Shaman commanded extraordinary power. Only a true extraordinary being possessed significant political influence and was worth assassinating.

Tao De had not chosen the wrong target. As for this Ancestral Spirit Shaman’s identity, background, and extraordinary abilities, the reconnaissance squad knew nothing at all. Due to the urgency of time and limited manpower, Tao De and his team could only target true extraordinary beings. Fortunately, the Shaman’s daily Blood Sacrifice rituals were public. Tao De and Red Wolf had observed for over ten days, witnessing with their own eyes as the Ancestral Spirit Shaman disemboweled and beheaded savage sacrificial offerings, then pressed their heads onto a mound of earth to create terrifying undead puppet monsters.

This Ancestral Spirit Shaman went to the sacrificial grounds in front of the temple every day to awaken several undead puppets, so naturally, he was targeted by Tao De.

Besides awakening undead creatures, the target might also possess other quasi-spells. A qualified assassin should investigate these things clearly before acting, but unfortunately, Tao De and his men didn’t have that luxury. However, they were, after all, vassals that His Highness Randell had focused on cultivating. Spellcasters, feared by ordinary people, were no mystery in their eyes. This Ancestral Spirit Shaman’s power manifested externally, which indicated that his control and use of quasi-spells were very crude. His extraordinary power was affecting his mind, making him a relatively easy spellcaster to deal with. There were several other shamans who presided over blood sacrifice rituals whose power was contained, making them look no different from ordinary Assyrians; Tao De dared not target them.

With very few exceptions, spellcasters were physically frail and particularly dependent on warriors for protection. This Assyrian Shaman seemed to be in a similar situation. The two Beast Spirit Warriors by the Shaman’s side, however, put some pressure on Tao De. In particular, the Assyrian Warrior with a “snake-tailed vulture” tattoo on his back might possess a superior sense of smell and sight, which would be a minor, but not insignificant, problem.

The two Beast Spirit Warriors were merely a problem, nothing more. Tao De was sure they had neither ignited the fire of the mind nor were they monsters whose basic attributes could crush an initial-rank Bronze Knight. They posed little threat to Tao De, let alone to Red Wolf, a Silver-rank Ferocious Warrior.

A powerful body and mind, coupled with a foray into the realm of Precognition, meant that a Ferocious Warrior represented the pinnacle of mortal evolution. And Red Wolf, having ignited the fire of his mind, was one of the best among Ferocious Warriors.

He was in charge of carrying out this assassination plan.

The Ancestral Spirit Shaman was completely unaware of the impending danger. As the slaves carried him around a street corner, Red Wolf, hidden in the crowd, made his move.

The Silver-rank Ferocious Warrior swung his arm swiftly and discreetly. A sharpened stone flake carved a curved arc through the air, shooting toward the Ancestral Spirit Shaman over thirty meters away.

Red Wolf was an agility-type Ferocious Warrior, not known for his strength, but he still possessed the power of a mid-rank Bronze Knight, capable of lifting a log weighing nearly two tons with one hand. With his strength and skill, the power of the thrown stone flake was comparable to a powerful crossbow at a thirty-meter range. The rapidly spinning stone flake struck the Ancestral Spirit Shaman squarely in the back of the head.

The feathered headdress, a symbol of status and power, offered the Shaman no protection whatsoever. With a soft thud, the palm-sized, sharp stone flake shattered the Shaman’s skull and embedded itself deep in the back of his head.

It was an absolutely fatal wound. The Shaman pitched forward from his seat on the sedan chair and was caught by an Eagle Spirit Warrior. Red Wolf didn’t even need to see the result. He slipped out of the crowd like a loach before chaos could erupt, moving in the opposite direction.

Beast Spirit Warriors always had special abilities. If the Eagle Spirit Warrior possessed the sense of smell of a snake-tailed vulture, he might be able to track the killer by the scent on the stone flake.

Red Wolf retreated first according to the plan, while Tao De stayed behind to observe the outcome.

He was astonished to find that the target, who should have died on the spot, was standing steadily with the support of the Beast Spirit Warriors!

The Ancestral Spirit Shaman violently shoved aside his guards, erupting with terrifying strength that sent all the Assyrians, including the two Beast Spirit Warriors, flying. They crashed into the crowd, instantly triggering a wave of screams and wails. The Shaman reached back, pulled out the stone flake embedded in his head, and fresh blood mixed with brain matter streamed from the wound.

The Shaman turned his head. A pale flame ignited in his constricted pupils, radiating a heart-stopping malice and madness. At this moment, his life form had already transformed into that of the undead!

This Ancestral Spirit Shaman performed blood sacrifices on savage slaves every day, siphoning off a considerable amount of soul power to enhance his own magical power. If this had been fifteen hundred years ago, an Ancestral Spirit Shaman of his current magical power level could have automatically triggered certain special quasi-spells to withstand this street assassination. Even if he had truly met an unfortunate end, he would have been reborn in the Realm of All Spirits, not truly dead. He could still descend upon the physical world through a prepared host medium, albeit with a time limit.

However, the Realm of All Spirits now had only one Pale Sovereign, who had also lost Her sanity. She indiscriminately devoured any spirit that appeared before Her, and the shamans who fed Her were no exception.

The Ancestral Spirit Shaman knew he was finished. In his despair, he could no longer suppress the soul contamination. The savage souls he had absorbed became the most dreadful poison. The will imprints of the sacrificial offerings’ dying resentment, fear, hatred, and pain completely shattered the Ancestral Spirit Shaman’s sanity, leaving only a desire for revenge and destruction.

The undead creature’s mouth opened to a grotesque degree, and countless tiny black insects spewed forth. Using its own soul and flesh as nourishment, it unleashed a plague insect cloud, indiscriminately attacking everyone on site.

The Shaman’s servants closest to the undead creature were the first to suffer. The plague insect swarm descended upon them, biting wantonly, feasting on their flesh and blood and infecting them with a mental illness carrying a curse of madness. The afflicted Assyrian slaves turned and pounced on the nearest living thing, spreading the plague insect swarm to them as well.

The semi-corporeal cloud of insects spread rapidly through the marketplace. Both the impoverished refugees and the wealthy upper-class nobles became tragic victims. Wherever the black insect cloud passed, it was like a living hell, with chaos and death radiating in all directions. Tao De had already left the marketplace a step ahead, before he could be caught in it.

He felt that he might have used a bit too much force in this assassination. He had originally planned to assassinate a few more shamans, but now it seemed that would no longer be necessary.

The instigator of the market tragedy had long since fled. The assassinated Ancestral Spirit Shaman’s soul dissipated, and not a single bone remained of his body. The plague insect cloud he had released with all his might resulted in hundreds of casualties, including the kin of many warrior leaders. The old and new hatreds between the Warrior faction and the Shaman faction were thoroughly ignited by the market tragedy. With the partisans of the old King adding fuel to the fire, the two sides clashed multiple times around the marketplace.

However, although Queen Harenadak was not in the city, several old shamans adopted a restrained posture. They gathered all the shamans and their immediate kin in a circular stone tower, holding their ground and refusing to come out, allowing the noble warriors to vent their anger on their newly acquired slaves. Only after the noble warriors had calmed down did both sides send representatives for a round of negotiations.

Unfortunately, the hatred from over a thousand casualties was not so easily resolved. To make matters worse, the old King’s confidants took advantage of the chaos to rescue several imprisoned princes, and while they were at it, they also released the savage sacrificial offerings who had been prepared for a large-scale Blood Sacrifice ceremony.

The upper-district nobles who had participated in the retaliation realized they had caused a disaster. When the Shamaness Queen returned, she would definitely not let them off lightly. Even if the shaman leaders expressed they would not pursue the matter, the nobles could not rest easy. To prevent the conflict from escalating further, the shaman leaders and the Warrior faction reached a tacit understanding to shift the blame onto the refugee slaves. The private soldiers of the upper-district nobles, under the pretext of capturing the partisans of the old King, began a roundup of the refugee slaves in the lower district.

The refugees of the lower district suffered terribly. The misery they faced needs no further elaboration. Meanwhile, Tao De and his men had already evacuated the city, avoiding the Assyrian uprising. If Tao De had delved into the details of this incident, he would have found many suspicious points.

First, the turmoil in the city did not affect the upper district. All bloodshed occurred in the marketplace and the periphery of the lower district. The turbulent situation in the Assyrian capital city was clearly under effective control, which meant there had been preparations.

Second, the main forces of the upper district’s private soldiers and the city guard had already left the city. They were currently stationed near the Direwolf Settlement. Therefore, the most powerful Assyrian warriors were not involved in this bloody conflict. This meant that the Assyrians’ main military strength remained intact. The Assyrian nobles who remained in the city lacked elite private soldiers, so the slave soldiers participating in the conflict were like chicks pecking at each other. Although every family suffered losses, the actual impact was not great.

Finally, the number of deaths within the Assyrian capital city was almost equal to that of a large-scale Blood Sacrifice.

All these suspicious circumstances had nothing to do with Tao De’s reconnaissance squad. They were already hiding in the forest, waiting for Narsen to lead his team over, round up the Horned Lizard war beasts near the burial pits, and launch a surprise attack on the Assyrian Temple.

The refugee uprising in the city would not end so easily. The vast majority of refugees and almost all the savage captives had fled into the forest. To get food, they had no choice but to raid the plantations outside the city. This gave the old King’s confidants an opportunity to build up their forces. Tao De could, of course, see the stakes involved. In fact, he had already informed Imoson the Wizard to dispatch a squad of veteran savage headhunters to the vicinity of the Assyrian capital city to gather the scattered savage captives in preparation for subsequent raid operations.

Although people were dying every day, the scope of the bloodshed was limited to the plantations outside the city, while the situation inside the city was stabilizing. In the midst of this bloody incident, Great Shaman Femornu and Warrior Chief Baklok, who had gained authority, brought a little boy to the independent stone house where Tumen was being held.

The Beast Spirit Warrior guarding the stone house opened the door with a key. Tumen squinted his eyes to get a clear look at the three visitors and asked in a deep voice, “Femornu, Baklok, what do you two mean by bringing the little prince to see me?”

The Ancestral Great Shaman did not answer Tumen’s question. He looked around the simple stone house and sneered, “There isn’t even a single Nature Spirit here… Tumen, it seems Chief Priestess Harenadak isn’t too friendly to you either.”

When the great King Mokemo was alive, Great Shaman Femornu had been his lapdog. When Harenadak recovered her magical power, he was the first of the old King’s confidants to betray him, and he had been groveling at the Queen’s feet ever since. Tumen looked down on such a turncoat, but he had not expected Warrior Chief Baklok to be in league with Femornu.

Baklok was one of the foremost warriors in his clan. His family held some enmity with the great King Mokemo. It was precisely because he feared Baklok’s formidable strength that the great King Mokemo, renowned for his martial prowess, had not annihilated Baklok’s family. Baklok often roamed the forests outside the city and dared not return to his home in the upper district.

After the old King’s death, Baklok was treated with courtesy by the Shamaness Queen and became the first Assyrian warrior to master four types of Beast Spirits simultaneously. Harenadak had entrusted him to guard the capital city when she led the army out, a clear sign of her trust. In fact, they were lovers. Once Beldina succeeded as the Queen of the Assyrian Empire, Harenadak and Baklok would be formally married.

Now, Harenadak’s lover stood before Tumen with the old King’s youngest son, giving him a bad premonition.

The little prince was terrified of Great Shaman Tumen’s grim gaze and hid behind Femornu. But the Ancestral Great Shaman pulled him out and said with a smile, “A riot just broke out in the Royal Capital. The old King’s confidants took advantage of the Chief Priestess Shaman’s absence to assassinate Shaman Astor, incite chaos, release the savage sacrificial offerings, and snatch away Mokemo’s sons.”

Tumen stared at him and said coldly, “So, you are the leader of the old King’s confidants, Great Shaman Femornu…”

The Ancestral Spirit Shaman waved his hand and said, “I certainly was… but now, they are my confidants. Great Shaman Tumen, you really don’t understand the situation at all.”

Tumen turned to the Warrior Chief, staring at him as if he were a dead man, and sneered, “And you? When Mokemo was young, he forced your father to his death and took your mother. Why are you mixed up with his spawn?”

A complex expression of shame and helplessness appeared on Baklok’s face. He shook his head and said, “I only found out recently myself. Mokemo was my biological father. He and my mother had been having an affair for a long time… My father was a fool. After Mokemo died, my mother actually chose to be buried with him… I have no sympathy for that despicable, rotten pair now, but Harenadak knows my identity. What will she do to me?”

Tumen was stunned for a moment. He didn’t know about Mokemo’s sordid affairs, but Femornu was in a position to know. Since Baklok could join forces with the leader of the royalist faction, his identity as the old King’s illegitimate child was likely true.

“You want to betray Harenadak?”

Baklok tried to explain, “I don’t want to betray Harena—”

“Tumen, don’t be so quick to act. It won’t be good for anyone.” Femornu interrupted Baklok’s self-defense. He had sensed Tumen mobilizing his soul power, preparing to fight to the death.

Although the environment here suppressed Tumen’s spellcasting abilities, if he used his own flesh and blood as the soil, the Nature Spirit quasi-spell he could unleash would be exceptionally ferocious. Even Baklok might not survive.

The Ancestral Spirit Shamans were currently weak. Femornu wasn’t confident he could withstand Great Shaman Tumen’s forbidden arts, but he was confident he could persuade him.

“Tumen, none of us want to betray Harenadak, but we each have our own reasons, so we can only try to find a way to live. A lot of blood has been shed in the city these past few days. It’s all the blood that wasn’t shed when Mokemo died. Now that the bleeding is done, the living should reconcile. I need the Fountain of Youth, but Harenadak won’t give it to me. Baklok still wants to be with Harenadak. This child doesn’t want to become a sacrificial offering, and as long as he lives, the disputes outside the city can cease. But Harenadak won’t agree to a single one of these demands. In the end, the Chief Priestess Shaman is not our king. Beldina is our queen. Please, take us to see Queen Bel, and let her decide our fates.”

Tumen sneered, “Well said. Aren’t you just trying to seek power and influence before the Queen? Only by entering the Queen’s natural domain can an Ancestral Spirit Shaman master Nature Spirits. But why should I agree?”

“You will agree,” Femornu said with complete confidence. “Harenadak didn’t expect that the number of people who have died in the city these past few days has already exceeded the total number of sacrificial offerings for the Blood Sacrifice ceremony. Coupled with the war against the savage headhunters, the Realm of All Spirits has absorbed too much soul power. Our queen is about to awaken. Don’t you want to be the one to welcome Queen Beldina’s return before Harenadak does?”

Tumen was silent for a moment before asking in a hoarse voice, “Harenadak went to fight the savages? At the Direwolf Settlement?”

Femornu nodded and said, “So you knew a Fountain of Youth appeared at the Direwolf Settlement.”

The Sovereign slumbering and Bel awakening was undoubtedly the most important matter for the Assyrian Empire. Tumen, of course, wanted to welcome the Queen’s return while Harenadak was away. In the entire Assyrian Empire, only he and Harenadak could lead people into Beldina’s natural domain. But with Warrior Chief Baklok preventing him from leaving, he couldn’t get out of this cell. If he set foot in the Main Chamber of the temple, with the power of the Queen’s natural domain, Baklok and Femornu would pose no threat to him even if they joined forces. Moreover, the savage headhunters’ attack on the Direwolf Settlement also involved the Queen’s father—Great Shaman Imosen.

This matter had to be resolved quickly, or the consequences would be unimaginable.

Since the Chief Priestess Shaman was not in the city, it was only a matter of course for Tumen, as the Queen’s guide, to step forward and take charge of the bigger picture.

Tumen no longer hesitated. He nodded in agreement, “I will take you to see the Queen.”

Femornu and Baklok exchanged a glance, then said with a smile that didn’t reach their eyes, “There are some others outside who wish to greet the Queen with us. Without their help, I wouldn’t dare release Great Shaman Tumen.”

Chapter 864: The Raid Begins

Realm of All Spirits.

In this gray, hazy world, the most conspicuous sight was a majestic iron bridge, as black as ink. On both sides of the bridge, at set intervals, stood enormous statues cast from iron. They were all identical, sixty-meter-tall, upright human figures, draped in hooded robes that concealed their faces. Two clusters of pale flames leaped within their eye sockets, embodying the contradictory concepts of silent eternity and brilliant splendor. They were like the gods of death judging the deceased, yet also like lighthouses guiding souls.

On the bridge, under the silent gaze of the statues, an Assyrian youth walked stiffly toward the other end. His expression was numb, his eyes vacant. His bare chest was smeared with blue paint, the color signifying his status as a Sacrificial offering. To his front, back, left, and right, many other Assyrians in different attire shambled forward in the same direction.

Beldina beat her butterfly wings, flying swiftly above the bridge. She shouted, “Turn back, all of you! Turn back! You’ll die if you keep going!”

The Assyrians seemed not to hear, continuing their march forward. Anxious, Beldina simply dove down and grabbed hold of the Assyrian youth, whose face still held a trace of immaturity. She was surprisingly strong, and the vacant-eyed youth was dragged backward, but more Assyrians continued to advance with unwavering determination.

As they neared the other side of the bridge, the colors on their bodies faded away, turning as gray and hazy as their surroundings, before they finally disintegrated into dust and scattered in the ceaseless currents of air.

Beldina let go of the Assyrian youth and turned to save others, but the young man once again set foot on the iron bridge.

“It’s useless. They are already dead.”

The Ant-man Empress stood at the end of the great iron bridge, watching Beldina’s futile efforts. She found it both amusing and absurd, and couldn’t help but advise, “Bel, instead of wasting your time on meaningless things, you should be constructing that spell model. I can feel it… you don’t have much time left…”

With a whoosh, Beldina flew to a stop before the Ant-man Empress, puffing out her cheeks. “If you make them stop, I’ll go learn that spell model.”

The Ant-man Empress lifted a flawless white forelimb, tapped it lightly on the ground, and shook her head. “I cannot do that.”

Bel flitted around the Empress, asking excitedly, “Why can’t you? Aren’t you the Master of Spirit-Devouring Island? Can’t you convert these poor souls?”

The Ant-man Empress sighed helplessly and explained once more, “How many times have I told you? No one can transcend the laws of the world. This iron bridge is a manifestation of world law, simulating the principle of a soul’s return to the void. Souls begin in the void and return to the void, and this void refers to the Elemental Sea of fire. When a person dies, their Will Side dissipates first, and their Soul Fire gradually extinguishes—this is just a superficial understanding. In truth, the Soul Fire is not extinguished. Once the Will Side dissipates, the Soul Fire loses its constraints and begins to scatter, revealing its essence as fire elements from the void. If these scattered Soul Fires encounter certain fragments of will, they form fragile ghosts. That’s why Assyrian Shamans can see the existence of spirits. Whether they are Ancestral Spirits, Animal Spirits, or Nature Spirits, you humans would call them all ghosts. The will imprints of powerful creatures are very resilient and don’t collapse so easily, so their ghosts last longer. But a ghost is a ghost, and a soul is a soul; they are not the same thing. Just like the ghost of the Bear-monster Elder you captured and fashioned into a powerful Guardian Spirit…”

“His name is Sugar Jar!” Beldina exclaimed.

The Ant-man Empress humored her. “Alright… Sugar Jar is not the original Bear-monster Elder. The original Bear-monster Elder is already dead. You completed his Will Side according to your own preferences and understanding, and that’s how you got the Guardian Spirit, Sugar Jar.”

“Oh? So I’m that amazing,” Beldina said, lifting her delicate and adorable little round face. She placed her hands on her hips, looking utterly smug.

“A soul cannot last forever; the Soul Fire must eventually return to the Elemental Sea of fire,” the Ant-man Empress continued. “You are a Chosen One, and your talent for Wizardry is related to the law of souls. Creating a Guardian Spirit is as simple and natural for you as breathing, but you don’t understand the principles of the law behind it. Sugar Jar cannot escape the fate of dissipating. His very existence depends on the Realm of All Spirits providing him with spirit essence, and that spirit essence is pure Soul Fire, which comes from these Assyrian souls.”

“This iron bridge grinds away the Will Side of the Assyrian souls, stripping them of their memories, emotions, and consciousness, leaving only pure Soul Fire. The Assyrian souls crossing this bridge is just like the process of a soul returning to the origin of the world, while Spirit-Devouring Island symbolizes the Elemental Sea of fire, the final destination for Soul Fire.” The Ant-man Empress taught patiently, “We cannot overcome the limitations of world law; we can only conform to it and borrow its power. It’s like how water will always flow downward. No matter how high you splash it, it will still fall. The same goes for these Assyrian souls…”

The Ant-man Empress raised her left hand and pointed at an Assyrian soul nearing Spirit-Devouring Island, turning it into a pale flame that she drew toward her out of thin air. “The only thing I can do is collect the Soul Fire and, following the unchangeable rules, mold them into the souls of the Ant-man race.”

The pale Soul Fire burned and flickered on the Ant-man Empress’s fingertip, gradually shrinking and turning a fiery red. She casually waved her hand, extinguishing the Soul Fire and letting it turn to dust, which settled onto the ground of Spirit-Devouring Island. “Right now, shaping the souls of the Ant-man race is an unbearable burden for me, and it is meaningless for these pitiful Assyrian souls. Bel, my student, if you pity these souls, then destroy this iron bridge that represents their return.”

“Will that save them?” Beldina asked expectantly, blinking her large, clear eyes.

“No.” The Ant-man Empress gave a negative answer, then added, “But you can break free from the shackles of the Realm of All Spirits, return to the real world, and stop the Assyrians’ war.”

The Ant-man Empress cast her gaze toward the Assyrian souls on the iron bridge, frowning slightly. “In a normal Blood Sacrifice, the souls of the offerings would only fall near the Pale Sovereign to be converted and absorbed by Her. That is no different from walking toward Spirit-Devouring Island. But during this period, Assyrian souls have been constantly appearing near the bridge, which means the Assyrians are going through a brutal war. When someone dies out there, a soul appears here. A thousand or more Assyrian souls have been drawn to Spirit-Devouring Island, and I fear many more have already been devoured by the Pale Sovereign.”

Beldina waved her small, fair fist and said angrily, “The Pale Sovereign is a big villain! I’ve wanted to get out of here for a long time…” As she spoke, she flapped her wings and flew before the Ant-man Empress, asking with concern, “Angelina, what about you? After I leave, you’ll have no one to talk to. Will you be scared?”

Having survived for over twenty thousand years, the Ant-man Empress’s mind was like a bottomless abyss. Beldina’s warm concern was like a stone tossed into that abyss, unable to stir the slightest echo. Yet, She still smiled and said, “Little one, you pity the Assyrian souls, and you pity me. Isn’t that a contradiction? Don’t worry, I am used to the loneliness. It’s just that once this final iron bridge is broken, the source of power sustaining Spirit-Devouring Island will be cut off, and I will eventually perish. But that will be thousands of years from now. Beldina, I must remind you, due to the war the Assyrians have started, the Pale Sovereign will soon fall into an eternal slumber. She will follow the rules of a Sacred Spirit’s eternal slumber and force a Will Side that does not belong to you onto your soul. This contains a valuable legacy of Ancestral Spirits, but it is also a distortion and remolding of you. Are you willing to let the Pale Sovereign twist your soul?”

“I hate the Ancestral Spirits! They’re so ugly! I don’t want to become like them,” Beldina said, shaking her head vigorously, her nose wrinkled in disgust.

The Ant-man Empress nodded in satisfaction. “Souls become ugly through pollution. We must prevent such a thing from happening to ourselves. However, it is not up to you… As long as you are in the Realm of All Spirits, the Pale Sovereign’s legacy of will is bound to affect your soul. But I have an advanced spell model that can help you receive the legacy without being polluted. Its name is simple, ‘Spirit Shell,’ but the spell model itself is very complex. Even with your talent as a Chosen One, it will take you a few days to master…”

Just as she was speaking, the deep roar of the Pale Sovereign came from the other side of the bridge. The sound seemed to well up from the bottom of one’s heart, and Beldina couldn’t help but shiver.

The Ant-man Empress glanced toward the other end of the bridge, then quickly looked back at Bel. “The Pale Sovereign is about to fall into eternal slumber. Will you learn the ‘Spirit Shell’ model or not?”

Beldina was clearly terrified by the Pale Sovereign’s roar. She cried out, “I’ll learn it!”

In the Main Chamber of the temple, the fiercely poisonous Man-eating flower vines bloomed with their most beautiful flowers and bore their sweetest fruit. Hundreds of adorable and clever Flower Fey danced and played among the verdant vines. With their presence, the stone-built great hall looked like a dreamlike paradise.

When Femornu and the others saw the natural domain within the Main Chamber for the first time, they were all full of praise. The object of their praise was Beldina; as for the Pale Sovereign, no one mentioned Her anymore.

“Great Shaman Tumen, our families have gathered another batch of slave offerings. We will sacrifice them to All Spirits, All Hallows immediately to help Queen Beldina tear open the Realm of All Spirits. This is a crucial period, so we should guard the Queen and await her return. There’s no need for anyone else to come in. What do you think?” Great Shaman Femornu offered.

Besides Warrior Chief Baklok and the old King’s youngest son, Femornu had brought four Ancestral Spirit Shamans and seven Assyrian Warriors, representing the eight most powerful noble families of the upper district, who were the core members of the Royalists.

To say they were still loyal to the deceased great King Mokemo was not entirely accurate, but they had always been noble families under the guise of the Royalist faction.

The Snake Eye Guard, loyal to the great King Mokemo, had been destroyed by the Shaman faction led by the Queen. However, the Shaman class, which had long been suppressed by royal authority, had not managed to become the dominant power in the upper district in a short time. Those deeply entrenched old dignitary families still held profound influence over the poor of the lower district and the dozens of settlements outside the city. Harenadak tried to weaken their influence and replace them by dividing, luring, and then suppressing a portion of the old dignitaries.

These eight Assyrian noble families were precisely the ones closest to Mokemo, and they had been set up as targets by Queen Harenadak.

They were wary of Harenadak’s magical power and dared not confront her directly, but uniting with Great Shaman Tumen and then seeking political power was their common choice.

Tumen knew very well that these people meant him no good. When he had been besieged by the Ancestral Spirit Shamans, these old fellows led by Femornu had been the most vocal. They wanted to divert Harenadak’s attention onto Tumen.

If Harenadak was the leader of the Shaman faction, then Tumen was undoubtedly the second-in-command. If the second-in-command became the target of everyone’s attacks, their own pressure would naturally be much less.

However, Tumen had to admit that compared to these old royal dignitaries, he was far too poor. Even with the property Harenadak had allocated to him, it was nothing compared to Femornu’s family wealth. That was why when he went out in search of the Fountain of Youth, he only had a few dozen slave soldiers with him, while Xinu could casually muster more than one hundred well-trained slave hunters. And while Xinu’s family was wealthy, it still couldn’t compare to these old dignitary families.

In Assyrian society, wealth represented power. The wealth held by the eight old dignitary families was enough to make anyone’s eyes red with envy. It was no wonder Harenadak would sideline them, yet she didn’t dare to act rashly.

With the Pale Sovereign falling into eternal slumber and Queen Beldina awakening, everything was about to change. Once Harenadak gained control over the authority of the Realm of All Spirits through the Queen, she would have nothing to fear. The eight dignitary families could wait no longer. Siding with Queen Beldina was their best way out.

The “others” Femornu mentioned referred to Chief Priestess Harenadak. Tumen was well aware of their intentions. He nodded and asked, “What is the current situation with the remnants of the Snake Eye Guard?”

Several of the Assyrian Shamans and Warriors exchanged glances before one of the Warriors stepped forward. “Several of the old King’s offspring have joined the remnants of the Snake Eye Guard. There are over five hundred of them in total, and they are gathering the refugee slaves outside the city. I estimate they can assemble an army of over two thousand.”

The Snake Eye Guard, combined with the private soldiers of the eight dignitary families, was definitely a military force capable of overthrowing the Assyrian capital city. Moreover, Queen Harenadak had already taken her main forces and the Undead Behemoth to the Direwolf Settlement outside the city. Even if the remaining noble families of the upper district united, they would be no match for this power.

Tumen glanced at the Warrior Chief and said coldly, “You really have been secretly sheltering the Snake Eye Guard. I’m afraid you’ve also provided them with plenty of weapons and Vine Armor.”

Femornu pushed the timid little prince forward and said sternly, “Great Shaman Tumen, as long as the little prince can serve as a servant by the Queen’s side, the issue of the Snake Eye Guard can be resolved… Also, the Queen is about to tear open the Realm of All Spirits, and it is very likely that a Fountain of Youth will gush forth here in the temple. The old King’s offspring and the Snake Eye Guard will not lay a finger on the Fountain of Youth here. They have already shown their posture of submission to the Queen. I see no need to wipe out the Snake Eye Guard.”

Tumen remained noncommittal and asked instead, “What about those escaped savage offerings?”

Femornu misunderstood Tumen’s meaning. He paused, then pondered for a moment before saying, “The old King’s confidants let the savage offerings go to create chaos… Over two thousand savage offerings have escaped into the forest outside the city. Once the Queen awakens and you, Great Shaman Tumen, become the Chief Priest, we can then send slave soldiers to capture the savages and give them to you as property.”

It was clear that the eight dignitary families had not colluded with Great Shaman Imosen. Tumen sighed in relief inwardly. He immediately communicated with the Flower Fey Nature Spirits. The calm Man-eating flower vines, like a swarm of enraged pythons, flew out and lunged at Femornu and his men. The Assyrian Warriors among them reacted quickly, but in a great hall covered with Man-eating flower vines, their resistance or escape was futile. After a brief struggle, they, along with the Ancestral Spirit Shamans, were bound tightly by the thorny vines. As a potent paralyzing toxin was injected into their bodies, the super Man-eating flowers completely subdued them.

Femornu gasped for breath, staring fixedly at the nonchalant Great Shaman Tumen. “You… Why?”

“Because Tumen knew I was here the moment he came in.”

A thicket of vines in the corner of the Main Chamber parted on its own, and Harenadak, her figure enchanting and her face painted with vivid purple markings, walked out holding a snake-headed staff. A mocking smile played on her lips as she shook her head. “The Jungle Stealth of the natural domain concealed my tracks and my scent. Only a Great Shaman of Nature Spirits like Grandfather Tumen could perceive my presence. You… cannot!”

“Harenadak… You, you didn’t go to the Direwolf Settlement?!” Femornu twisted his head with difficulty, his eyes wide with disbelief.

The beautiful shamaness, who looked as if she were carved from ivory, ignored Femornu. She swayed her serpentine waist and walked straight to the well-built Warrior Chief, offering her lover a fragrant kiss. Only then did the bound Ancestral Spirit Shamans and Assyrian Warriors realize that Baklok, who had come with them, had not been attacked by the Man-eating flower vines.

Harenadak turned around, her eyes slightly narrowed, not bothering to hide her smug Glee. “What made you think Baklok would betray me? What made you think I would leave the Queen’s side at such a crucial moment as her awakening?”

She certainly had reason to be smug. The remnants of the great King Mokemo’s offspring and the Snake Eye Guard were not enough to stand against the Shaman class, whose magical power had been restored. Moreover, once they were outside the city, they were no different from savages, having lost their last shred of influence. Harenadak’s greatest worry came from within the Shaman faction. She had never planned to eradicate the wealthy Shaman families, but she had to deal with ambitious men like Femornu. As long as she eliminated a few of the treacherous leaders, the rest would naturally fall into line.

The siege of the Direwolf Settlement by the savage coalition army had created a golden opportunity for Harenadak to deal with her internal rivals. She secretly plotted with Baklok; she would pretend to lead her troops out of the city, but in reality, she would leave the army midway and quietly return to the Main Chamber of the temple. Baklok would be responsible for luring the leaders of the betrayers into the Main Chamber. That was Beldina’s natural domain, which forbade Ancestral Spirit quasi-spells. An Ancestral Spirit Shaman was no different from an ordinary Assyrian in the Main Chamber. With Harenadak lying in ambush, she could easily catch them all in one net.

The Chief Priestess had never expected that her own lover would turn out to be the great King Mokemo’s illegitimate child, but since she herself was hidden in the Main Chamber of the temple, Baklok ultimately did not betray her, running over to confess the truth to her that very night.

Harenadak decided to proceed with the entrapment plan, and her hidden adversaries fell for it as expected. They sought out Tumen for cooperation, but Tumen alone was no match for Harenadak, especially with the outstanding Warrior Chief Baklok by her side. In fact, Great Shaman Tumen being under house arrest was also a necessary part of Harenadak’s ploy to lure her political enemies. Tumen was a clever man. The moment he discovered that Harenadak had not left the temple, he subdued Femornu and the others without her even needing to lift a finger.

Femornu wanted to say more, but the Shaman Queen couldn’t be bothered with his nonsense. She commanded the Man-eating flower vines to gag all the captives and said coolly, “Cut off the snake’s head, and even the most venomous snake is just a corpse. Baklok, go and tell those families that Femornu and the others intended to harm the Queen and were caught red-handed by me. But this matter has nothing to do with their families. I will not pursue it. I will only offer Femornu and the others as sacrifices to All Spirits.”

This was the response the two had agreed upon. Baklok said crisply, “Alright.”

Harenadak turned to Great Shaman Tumen with a smile. “Grandfather Tumen, the city guards will handle the beastmen and savages attacking the Direwolf Settlement. As for Mokemo’s sons and the Snake Eye Guard, how do you think we should deal with them?”

Tumen’s heart sank, a sense of indescribable disappointment washing over him. He had already done so much, yet Harenadak was still determined to drive him away from Beldina’s side and prevent him from welcoming the Queen’s return.

“What do you want to do?” Tumen retorted unhappily.

Harenadak had already won a complete victory and paid no mind to Tumen’s harsh tone. She nodded. “I agree to their request. The little prince can stay and serve Beldina as a servant. After the Empress Regnant awakens, I will permit Mokemo’s sons to have an audience with the Queen, but they must renounce their titles as princes… They probably don’t trust the other Shamans. For this matter, I’ll have to ask Grandfather Tumen to personally go and speak with the Snake Eye Guard.”

Tumen was silent for a moment, then nodded. “Fine. I will leave the temple now and go find the Snake Eye Guard outside the city… As for those escaped savage captives, I’ll have them captured on my way back.”

Seeing Tumen turn and walk out of the temple, Baklok called after him, “Great Shaman, I’ll send a few Beast Spirit Warriors to protect you…”

“No need! Lest they go to meet All Spirits and the blame falls on my head again.”

Tumen snorted coldly and walked out of the Main Chamber of the temple without a backward glance.

Baklok stared at the Great Shaman’s back as he descended the temple steps, asking with some worry, “Harena, do you think Great Shaman Tumen will conspire with the Snake Eye Guard and not come back?”

“Not come back? To live as a savage in the wilds? Even if Tumen were willing, the Snake Eye Guard and Mokemo’s sons would never agree.”

Harenadak’s smile was like a blooming flower as she said confidently, “Tumen is angry, but you don’t need to worry… because he will never betray Queen Beldina.”

Harenadak was right. Neither the Snake Eye Guard nor the Assyrian refugees would follow Great Shaman Tumen just to live as savages. And Tumen truly had no intention of betraying the Queen. However, helping Beldina reunite with her birth father wasn’t betrayal; it could only be considered an opportunistic political move.

After leaving the city, Tumen first found the Snake Eye Guard and explained what had happened in the temple. The guard, loyal to the old King, realized they had lost their inside connection. Even with the Shaman Queen’s main forces outside the city, they now stood no chance of victory.

The Snake Eye Guard could only accept the terms Tumen laid out: remain temporarily in the plantations outside the city and await reorganization after the new king ascended the throne.

The Great Shaman had learned from the Snake Eye Guard that they were not behind the assassination at the marketplace. Thus, after stabilizing the rebel force, Tumen immediately entered the forest to search for traces of the Rare People. Guided by the Nature Spirits, he indeed found the savage headhunters and the monster legion led by Imosen.

Tumen had originally intended to persuade Imosen to wait for Beldina to awaken, after which he would mediate to help father and daughter reunite. Unfortunately, the Randall expedition team was not about to sit by and watch Beldina be manipulated by the Pale Sovereign. The pitiful Great Shaman Tumen was captured once again. Narsen decisively gave the order to launch a surprise attack on the temple in the Assyrian capital city.

Harenadak and Baklok were completely unaware of what was happening outside. Hundreds of ferocious monsters and nearly a thousand savage headhunters had already crushed the limited private soldier forces of the upper district’s Nobles and were charging straight for the core area where the temple was located.

Chapter 865: Holy Chains

The ground around the temple was stained red with blood. Mutilated bodies were scattered everywhere, from savage slaves daubed in blue paint to Assyrian warriors clad in vine armor. Dozens of terrifying monsters prowled the battlefield, sniffing the air. They had wide mouths and sharp fangs, blood-red tongues, and grayish-blue skin covered in a thick layer of scale armor. Their powerful limbs ended in sharp claws, and their bodies were two sizes larger than an adult jungle green-headed tiger—they looked like a combination of a carrion lizard and a giant Ox-frog, magnified several times over.

An Assyrian warrior in his thirties lay motionless on the ground. Not far from him, a monster was busy tearing at a corpse; he could even see his own reflection in its large, bulging eyes. Yet the creature seemed oblivious to the living man so close by, its head swiveling, its ears twitching to catch any sound as it devoured the bloody remains.

The Assyrian warrior knew that these hideous monsters had poor eyesight and couldn’t distinguish stationary targets, but their senses of hearing and smell were exceptionally keen. Fortunately, the pungent oil paint covering his body masked his scent. By breathing carefully and making no sound, he had managed to save his own skin.

Many other Assyrian warriors were playing dead just like him. All those who were not clever enough, who had screamed and run, were now dead. The monsters hunted the Assyrian warriors as easily as a tiger hunts a doe. Aside from a few Beast Spirit Warriors and Shamans who had managed to retreat into the temple in time, the other two hundred-odd Assyrian warriors facing the horde of monsters either played dead or were truly, thoroughly dead.

But the temple guards had already been routed by the monsters. This borrowed time was only temporary. The Assyrian warrior secretly prayed to the All Spirits for protection, begging that the greedy, bloodthirsty monster would not find him.

Perhaps the All Spirits heard his prayer and decided to play a joke on him. After swallowing half a corpse, the grayish-blue monster licked its claws, still unsated, and began to crawl toward the warrior who was feigning death.

The experienced hunter-warrior struggled internally for a moment before making a decision. His sharp, hollow fangs secreted a paralyzing venom, and he quietly bit his own lip. The venom took effect quickly, drastically lowering his heart rate, stiffening his muscles, and causing bruises to appear on his skin. A foul, rotten stench began to emanate from him. The Assyrian warrior became like a corpse that had been dead for days—unfresh, unappetizing, and possibly carrying deadly pestilential toxins.

He chose to use feigned death to escape the ill fate of being devoured. The price was complete immobilization; he could only gamble on his luck. The benefit was that even if a monster were to gnaw on him, he would feel no pain.

Another Assyrian warrior, however, made the opposite choice. He suddenly burst up, swinging a wooden club with a stone hammerhead at a monster that was approaching him. His snake fangs had injected a toxin into his body that stimulated his inner potential, causing his bodily functions to surge to an incredible degree. His heart pulsed violently, erupting with formidable strength. Caught off guard, the monster was struck heavily on the neck. The stone hammer, meticulously polished from obsidian, tore through its tough, coarse, scaly skin, unleashing a great spray of blood mist.

The monster let out a low, mournful howl, its body, weighing over nine hundred pounds, crashing onto its side.

If the wooden handle of the Assyrian warrior’s hammer hadn’t broken, that blow would have been enough to snap the monster’s thick neck. Even so, the blow was severe. The beast rolled on the ground, its limbs flailing as it struggled in vain to get back up.

The warrior who chose to fight back didn’t hesitate for a second. He spun around and charged for the temple steps. The stimulating toxin was still at work, making his charge at least fifty percent faster than usual. Like an arrow loosed from a bow, he reached the temple steps in the blink of an eye.

All he had to do was rush up the steps and through the small stone door on the second floor of the temple. The monsters, with bodies larger than bears, would be too big to squeeze through. Then he would be safe.

The monster that had been nearing the feigning warrior heard the commotion and turned. It leaped through the air, covering over twenty meters in a single pounce. After two or three bounds, it caught up to the fleeing Assyrian warrior, snatching him out of mid-air. Several other monsters rushed over, and together they tore the brave warrior into several mangled pieces.

As the monsters roared and fought over the blood-drenched limbs, the warrior playing dead couldn’t see the gruesome scene, but he knew he had been lucky to escape with his life.

The descendants of the Assyrian Empire had lived hidden in this secret realm for over a thousand years. While they enjoyed peace, their military development had all but stagnated, even regressed. Their tactical sophistication and weaponry were abysmally poor. Although beastmen would occasionally stumble into the secret realm, these scattered monsters lacked organization and posed little threat to the Assyrian settlements. The Assyrian warriors’ guerrilla tactics were sufficient to deal with small bands of beastmen marauders. Thus, while the Assyrian warriors’ physical conditioning and racial talents surpassed those of human soldiers, their combat discipline was far inferior. Even though they had figured out the monsters’ weaknesses, they either played dead or fled. Lacking effective tactical coordination, they were nothing more than a disorderly mob.

The Assyrian savages fared no better. Outside the city, Imosen had rounded up a large number of savage captives. The old savage Rear-Eye had organized them, mustering a force of over three hundred men for the raid. These savages were all able-bodied young headhunters. Driven by a surge of martial valor and vengeful fury, they stormed into the central district of the Assyrian capital city, where they encountered over two hundred temple guards. The moment the two sides clashed, the savage headhunters broke and fled.

By Narsen’s standards, these savage headhunters were useless; their military discipline was worse than that of the militia in the Randell Fief. Fortunately, the seventy-plus Horned Lizard-beasts controlled by Imosen swept away all resistance, crushing the temple guards at the cost of a dozen or so of the Aberrant Beasts.

However, the Horned Lizard war beasts were now in a dire situation. This was, after all, the capital city of the descendants of the Assyrian Empire. The temple was surrounded by the circular blockhouses of the noble families. Each blockhouse was equivalent to a human castle, with smooth stone walls thirty meters high, housing anywhere from a few hundred to nearly a thousand people. Furthermore, at the border between the upper and lower districts lay the collective dormitories of the Assyrian slaves, the residential area for mastered slaves. The adult males among them were both soldier and slave, which meant the Assyrian Nobles could mobilize at least thirty thousand slave soldiers.

That many people were more than enough to overwhelm the Horned Lizard war beasts Imosen had deployed, and that was without the Shamaness Queen and the city’s Shamans taking any action. For one, Harenadak needed time to organize her forces. Secondly, she wanted to ascertain the identity of the attackers, fearing it might be a full-scale counterattack launched by the partisans of the old King, with the noble families of the upper district involved.

To prevent the partisans of the old King and the noble families from assassinating any lone Shamans, Harenadak was sending people to summon all the Shamans in the city to the temple, to first evade potential risks before considering anything else.

While the Shamaness Queen was still probing the enemy’s strength, the Randall expedition team had to seize this opportunity to win a swift victory!

A Horned Lizard-beast, twice the size of its kin, raised its thick neck and let out a roar like a bellowing bull. All the Horned Lizard-beasts on the scene abandoned their feast of flesh and blood and charged as one toward the towering pyramid temple. Their muscular hind limbs gave them astonishing jumping power, allowing them to leap seven or eight meters at a time up the slope of the steps. In an instant, they converged on the temple’s upper platform from four different directions.

Imosen directed the pack of Horned Lizard-beasts to raid the Main Chamber on the upper level of the temple. He intended to use numerical superiority to overwhelm the Shamaness Queen hiding inside and snatch Beldina before making a run for it.

Most spellcasters have slow reaction times in the field. Even a Gold rank warrior, facing a ferocious assault from dozens of Horned Lizard-beasts, would only be able to defend themselves for a short while. Imoson the Wizard’s raiding tactic was simple but highly targeted, and would most likely achieve its objective. The greatest difficulty came from the four Guardian Spirits on the temple platform, but they were Beldina’s Guardian Spirits.

Imosen had them reveal his identity; they shouldn’t attack their master’s father.

At least, that was what Imosen thought. In any case, it was a pure accident that the Shamaness Queen had not fallen for the diversionary tactic. Now that things had come to this, the Randall expedition team had to give it a try regardless.

Just as the dozens of Horned Lizard-beasts leaped onto the platform, thick black smoke billowed out, manifesting into the forms of a giant bear, a giant python, a giant tiger, and a giant bat. Their red eyes gleamed as they blocked the entrance to the Main Chamber of the temple with their enormous bodies, attacking any Horned Lizard-beast that drew near.

The giant snake spat out clouds of black smoke that acted like a corrosive poison, dissolving any Horned Lizard-beast it touched. The giant tiger swiped its claws, creating arcs of black light that tore the Horned Lizard-beasts’ tough bodies apart from a distance. The giant bat flapped its wings, let out a silent screech, and released a visible ripple of air that continuously projected onto a Horned Lizard-beast. After about ten seconds, an Aberrant Beast weighing over four hundred kilograms exploded into a mist of blood. The giant bear’s attack seemed unremarkable, but any Horned Lizard-beast that came within ten meters of it would become slow and clumsy, as if trapped in quicksand. The great bear simply raised its paws and smashed the Horned Lizard-beasts into meat patties, like a game of whack-a-mole.

The Guardian Spirits’ quasi-spells had no obvious effect on the large Horned Lizard-beast with eyes like flames. Imoson the wizard’s Legendary-level Spirit attribute, enhanced by Wisdom Guidance, had been bestowed upon the Aberrant Beast, giving it astonishing spell resistance. Unfortunately, the Horned Lizard-beast’s own strength was insufficient to shake any of the Guardian Spirits. Beldina’s Guardian Spirits could crush a Horned Lizard-beast with raw strength alone, but the beast guided by Imosen was not so easily hit.

It dodged a sweeping blow from the giant bear Guardian Spirit, leaped onto the sloped wall of the temple, and let out a series of rapid hisses at the black smoke bear. The “Sugar Jar”大人, worshipped by the Beast Spirit Warriors, opened its great maw and responded with an even louder, furious roar.

After several failed attempts to communicate with the four Guardian Spirits, Imosen could only lead the twenty-some surviving Horned Lizard-beasts in retreat. Before he left, he shot a hateful glare back at the adorably naive “Sugar Jar,” a look that clearly said, “You just wait.”

As the pack of Horned Lizard-beasts withdrew, the four Guardian Spirits reverted to their cute little animal forms. Harenadak and her warrior lover appeared on the platform. Baklok’s eyes were grave as he said, “The monster just now… it seemed to have wisdom.”

Harenadak gripped her snake-headed staff tightly and sighed. “That was Beldina’s father.”

“What?” Baklok’s expression was as stiff as if he were wearing a mask. The Little Queen was the daughter of a monster? He didn’t even know if he should continue this conversation with Harenadak.

The Chief Priestess Shamaness frowned. “Beldina’s father is a Great Shaman of the Rare People, skilled at controlling monsters. His magical power is immense. These monsters are nothing, really. He has a giant ape monster that is far more terrifying. I saw it once from a distance… I’m afraid the Guardian Spirits the Queen left behind won’t be able to stop it.”

Baklok sucked in a cold breath, a hissing sound escaping his throat. But Harenadak shook her head and said, “His identity as a Great Shaman of the Rare People is the most troublesome part. I was hesitating just now, unable to bring myself to act against those monsters, precisely because he is the Queen’s father.”

The Queen was on the verge of Rejuvenation, possibly within the next few days. For Harenadak to be hostile to the Queen’s father at such a time would be disastrous if Queen Beldina were to blame her. And since Harenadak had abducted someone’s daughter, the father, having come to her doorstep, would surely not let the matter rest.

Baklok found the situation thorny as well. After a moment of silence, he said, “The savage sacrificial offerings attacked alongside the monsters just now. Could it be that the attacks by savages on the settlements outside the city were all the Queen’s father’s doing?”

Harenadak nodded. “I’ve considered that, too. The attack on the Fountain of Youth at the Direwolf Settlement was a ploy by the Queen’s father to lure me and the City Guard away, making it easier for him to retrieve Beldina. Therefore, someone among us has been tipping off the Great Shaman of the Rare People. It’s Tumen!”

“Damn that old fellow! He’s trying to use the Queen’s father to seize your position as Chief Priestess!” Baklok said, gritting his teeth.

Harenadak turned the venomous snake staff, the symbol of her authority as Chief Priestess, in her hand. After a moment, she said, “This might be a good thing… I’m not surprised that Tumen wants to replace me. But he will stop the Queen’s father from taking Beldina. However, the Great Shaman of the Rare People will definitely continue his assault on the temple. Tumen can’t stop him. So, Tumen’s only option is to awaken the Queen early. He should rally the Snake Eye Guard and the savage headhunters to join the battle, using them as sacrificial offerings to awaken the Queen!”

The Shamaness’s eyes grew brighter and brighter, and a smile crept onto her lips. “I understand Tumen, and he understands me. I plan to cooperate with him, but I cannot mobilize the city’s army for this special Blood Sacrifice. That would be tantamount to attacking the Queen’s father, which would inevitably anger Beldina.”

“What do you intend to do?”

Harenadak turned to look her lover in the eye. “I plan to defend passively and hold the temple… Baklok, I need you to go to the Direwolf Settlement now. Bring back the main force of the City Guard, as fast as you can. Then have the guards wait outside the city, ready to suppress the rebellion of the Snake Eye slave soldiers.”

The Great Chief of the Beast Spirit Warriors nodded. “I’ll see to it at once. But can you and the Shamans in the city hold out until the Queen awakens, or until I return with my men?”

“I had Tumen research the three-school quasi-spell integration technique because I have already mastered it.”

Harenadak raised her snake staff and chanted a difficult, tongue-twisting incantation. On the plaza before the temple, mushrooms sprouted at a visible rate. They were entirely black, with white patterns on their caps that bore a striking resemblance to human faces, their lifelike expressions filled with pain and hatred. Some of the mushrooms absorbed the bloody remains on the ground and grew larger and larger, reaching over two meters in height. From beneath their caps, sticky, transparent mycelia trailed, swaying and drifting erratically.

The temple guards who had been lying on the ground playing dead staggered to their feet one by one. With dazed expressions, they shambled toward the giant black mushrooms and voluntarily touched the mycelia. The light of life in their eyes dimmed and extinguished, only to be instantly replaced by two pale flames. They had been transformed from living beings directly into undead creatures.

And that was not all. Their hair fell out in large clumps, and their exposed skin began to transform into a plant-like state—or more accurately, like lignified mushrooms. This meant all the Assyrian warriors who had touched the mycelia had become semi-elemental undead creatures.

Dozens of Assyrian undead wandered aimlessly below. Harenadak, however, wore a triumphant smile. “Tumen pioneered the field of Man-eating flower quasi-spells, while I pioneered the field of Soul-Sucking Mushroom quasi-spells. It combines the characteristics of Ancestral Spirit and Nature Spirit quasi-spells, and can turn any intruder into an undead puppet. If the Great Shaman of the Rare People summons more monsters to attack the temple, he will only strengthen my defenses.”

In the Realm of All Spirits, on Spirit-Devouring Island.

The Ant-man Empress stood alone at the edge of the iron-cast bridge. She could not cross the bridge to the other side, which was now occupied by the Pale Sovereign. To do so would be to reverse the Laws of Spirit-Devouring Island, bringing about true destruction. As She was already one with the island, its destruction would mean Her complete annihilation.

But Beldina’s spirit had already been forcibly pulled across by the Pale Sovereign and was beginning to receive the legacy of the Holy Lord of the Realm of All Spirits.

Once the succession was complete, the Pale Sovereign’s Will Side would dissolve, its vast Soul Fire transforming into pure spirit essence and becoming a part of the Realm of All Spirits. At that point, the Pale Sovereign would face true Annihilation, and its Slime Behemoth avatar would revert to a state of pan-consciousness. As long as it wasn’t provoked, it would no longer pose a major threat to the ant swarms. In at most two hundred years, the Colossal Slime Behemoth would fall into an eternal slumber, its Soul Fire dissipating and returning to the Elemental Sea of Fire. And the secret realm that had sheltered the Assyrian descendants for a thousand years would fail with the Pale Sovereign’s Annihilation, a process that would take no more than a month.

In truth, the changes in the outside world were unimportant to the Ant-man Empress. The key to Her plan lay within the Realm of All Spirits, in Beldina’s act of completely severing the Realm from Spirit-Devouring Island.

This separation would sever the bond between the Ant-man Empress and the Assyrian Empire, a connection that had lasted for more than twenty thousand years. Just as the descendants of the Assyrian Empire hoped to excise the cancer that was the spirit thief, so too did the Ant-man Empress wish to be free of the great burden of the Assyrians.

She was the true founder of the Assyrian Empire. No one understood the mysteries of the Realm of All Spirits better than She.

Spirit-Devouring Island was, in fact, the core of the Realm of All Spirits. It protected the Ant-man Empress’s soul from being polluted by the will of the Assyrian souls. But as the Assyrian souls accumulated in the regions outside Spirit-Devouring Island, the consequence was the birth of terrifying monsters like the Black Blood Sovereign—which was, in essence, the Rejuvenation of the King of the Spirit Realm.

The Ant-man Empress had experienced the catastrophe caused by the Black Blood Sovereign once before. Her will had been suppressed on Spirit-Devouring Island for over fifteen hundred years by the Black Blood Sovereign’s immense power. The Empress knew with deep certainty that she absolutely could not resist the great will of the King of the Spirit Realm. When the King of the Spirit Realm revived, Spirit-Devouring Island, along with Her own soul, would be devoured by it.

Only by severing her ties with the Assyrians could she avoid becoming nourishment for the revival of the King of the Spirit Realm. Therefore, the Paladin of the Lord of Radiance disrupting the Blood Sacrifice, which caused the Black Blood Sovereign to awaken prematurely; the Assyrian Wizard King’s perfect body plan; the descendants of the Assyrian Empire’s plot to tear apart the Realm of All Spirits—all of these events were single-handedly orchestrated by the Ant-man Empress. Her plan of detachment had been fifteen hundred years in the making.

Because Spirit-Devouring Island was the core of the Realm of All Spirits, when Beldina, the Chosen One, tore the realm apart, the island itself could be temporarily preserved. The remaining parts would rapidly disintegrate, absorbed by the origin of Soul Fire—the Elemental Sea of Fire.

The descendants of the Assyrian Empire thought they could take the Realm of All Spirits with them. The opposite was true. They were being played like fiddles by the first Assyrian Queen, Angelina—now the Ant-man Sovereign—without even realizing it. They were only going to lose the Realm of All Spirits.

Although His Highness Randall, who wielded the authority of the Sun Elf, was a nuisance, the Ant-man Empress was confident her plan would not fail. It was aligned with the will of the world—Creator Taelon Ruier would not permit the revival of the Ancient Gods at this time!

The Assyrian descendants, counting on Beldina to tear apart the Realm of All Spirits, had already placed “Angelina’s Sorrow” upon her head. When Beldina tore the realm apart, that Elemental Rune Crystal would merge with her body. Bel would then replace the Asoerta Temple, becoming the new anchor connecting Spirit-Devouring Island to the real world.

The Ant-man Empress had it all planned. The Spirit Shell spell model She had taught Beldina would strengthen their psychic connection, preventing the Chosen One’s power from rejecting “Angelina’s Sorrow.” She would spare no effort to push Beldina to the pinnacle of power in the Radiant Church, using the power of faith from the Lord of Radiance to replace the soul power of the Assyrians, thus ensuring the eternal, undying existence of Spirit-Devouring Island.

The Realm of All Spirits trembled. The sculptures on the iron-cast bridge were collapsing. The air on Spirit-Devouring Island had frozen. The iron-cast bridge, which exuded an aura of eternity, let out a piercing groan, as if unable to withstand some immense power. It finally fractured into several pieces and plummeted into the pitch-black, lightless abyss.

The Realm of All Spirits was torn asunder!

A trace of heartfelt joy appeared on the Ant-man Empress’s highly anthropomorphic, exquisite face. The emotion was so unfamiliar that She had almost forgotten it, as if She had returned to the distant past, to the era when she was still Angelina the Mage, overjoyed at having control of both the Assyrian Empire and the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower.

In the distance, a point of platinum-gold light suddenly flared. It was sacred and solemn, dazzling and eye-catching, like the beam of a lighthouse illuminating the darkness and guiding the lost.

The light pierced forward like a sword. The Ant-man Empress’s smile froze on her face. She saw countless platinum-gold chains stretching across the void. The chains, forged with sacred runes, firmly secured the continuously collapsing Realm of All Spirits.

Chapter 866: The Arrival

The Realm of All Spirits was constructed on the Laws of the King of the Spirit Realm. It was vastly different from the meticulous and rigorous physical world, more like a consciousness space filled with many phenomena incomprehensible to ordinary people. For example, in the four cardinal directions of the Realm of All Spirits stood four iron-cast bridges, yet every single bridge led to the same place: Spirit-Devouring Island. If someone could somehow immunize themselves against the iron-cast bridge’s property of stripping away the Will Side of the soul, they could walk from one end of a bridge onto Spirit-Devouring Island, only to see four iron-cast bridges there, each connecting to one of the four directions of the realm.

This would inevitably give one a sense of spatial distortion.

But if one viewed Spirit-Devouring Island as the center of the Realm of All Spirits, with the four iron-cast bridges supporting a circular outer region, it would help in understanding the realm’s spatial properties.

In fact, Spirit-Devouring Island was indeed the core foundation upon which the Realm of All Spirits was built. The bottomless abyss beneath the iron-cast bridges was a manifestation of the Elemental Sea of fire within the Realm of All Spirits. Without Spirit-Devouring Island and the four iron-cast bridges—symbolizing the Law of the Soul Fire cycle—as a foundation, the outer ring of the Realm of All Spirits would surely have plunged into the bottomless abyss to be absorbed by the Elemental Sea of fire.

It was precisely because the spatial structure of the Realm of All Spirits adhered to the basic laws of the world’s origin that it had been able to exist for over twenty thousand years.

When Beldina destroyed the four iron-cast bridges, the vast outer ring lost its support and rapidly collapsed and fractured, plummeting into the bottomless abyss to be returned to the Elemental Sea of fire.

However, hundreds of platinum chains, imbued with a holy aura, secured the Realm of All Spirits, which should have collapsed into fragments. Although the realm was inevitably riddled with terrifying fissures, with chunks of it falling downward, the chains were deeply rooted in the soil made of spirit essence, allowing the outer ring of the Realm of All Spirits to retain a degree of integrity.

The Ant-man Empress had not anticipated such a sudden turn of events. Upon observation, She discovered that these platinum chains, engraved with divine art runes, all originated from a single point: Beldina.

The young lady was no longer the lovely and beautiful Flower Fey. Boundless Holy Light rippled around her like layers of water, so much so that even the Ant-man Empress could not clearly see her current appearance. All She could make out was the hazy silhouette of a graceful, curvy figure and a pair of brilliant eyes that even the platinum Holy Light could not conceal.

Beldina glanced at the Ant-man Empress, who was as large as a great mountain in the center of Spirit-Devouring Island. Her gaze was indifferent, tinged with a cold, ruthless arrogance. Then, she withdrew her eyes, as if the Demigod-rank Ant-man Empress was not worthy of a second look. A platinum-gold chain dragged a large fragment of spirit essence, which rapidly shrank into a point and flew into the center of her brow.

The young Chosen One was collecting the Realm of All Spirits, which should have been collapsing and caving in!

The kind, innocent little darling she once was could no longer be seen, but such a change was perfectly normal for a Chosen One.

The few celebrated Chosen One Wizards in the Alchemical Empire were said to be on par with the Supreme Elementalist—that is, a Spirit Knight. They were different from ordinary Wizards or High-ranked Knights, the most obvious distinction being the way their power grew.

The growth of a Chosen One could be described with the word “metamorphosis.” They would often mature suddenly at a certain stage, their personality, temper, emotions, and cognition—even their physical features—becoming completely different from before, as if they had become an entirely new person.

The Mages’ Association once believed that Chosen Ones possessed dual souls—two souls inhabiting one body. When they entered their metamorphosis period, the dormant soul would automatically awaken, devouring and replacing the original soul. However, in the mid to late period of the Alchemical Empire, the Mages’ Association officially declared the theory of dual souls in Chosen Ones to be incorrect.

Wizards were natural-born individuals with an affinity for the Laws. Due to their resonance with the Law, they could hear the whispers of Abyss demons and the Gods of the Sanctuary, from which they obtained knowledge of the Laws to apply and sculpt their own abilities. Wizards with Law-affinity and divinely-bestowed knowledge called themselves the God-chosen. The so-called Chosen Ones, however, heard whispers pointing to multiple extraordinary beings at once. The vast and complicated influx of Law information was enough to destroy the Will Side of an ordinary Wizard’s soul, so Chosen One Wizards had a soul shell that both maintained the soul’s normal state and automatically filtered out useless whispered information.

When a Chosen One Wizard’s knowledge of the Laws and their own magic reached a near-perfect state of balance, their soul shell would shatter.

The Mages’ Association of the Alchemical Empire vividly described this process as “shell metamorphosis.” Archmages specializing in the soul even developed the “Spirit Shell” spell model based on the Chosen One’s shell metamorphosis, aiming to protect a spellcaster’s Will Side of the soul from the harm of overwhelming information.

The naive and innocent, carefree Beldina was, in fact, the shell personality of a Chosen One. Now that she had completed her soul’s metamorphosis, her innate luck aura and mental charm talent would disappear. More accurately, they would transform, because she now had the power to protect herself and the ability to fulfill her own wishes. She no longer needed these passive talents; instead, she had to master them actively.

With Beldina’s cognition undergoing such a seismic shift, a drastic change in temperament was inevitable. The Ant-man Empress, understanding the characteristics of a Chosen One, was not worried that Beldina would continue to rely on Randall. She believed Beldina would make her own judgments based on reason, rather than be manipulated by His Highness Randell.

The Ant-man Empress believed that Beldina, having metamorphosed into her true Chosen One self, would cooperate with her, on the condition that She did not attempt to deceive or control her.

Moreover, Chosen Ones were always watched by multiple extraordinary beings. The Ant-man Empress had no desire to expose herself to the gazes of the Gods of the Sanctuary or the great demon lords of the Abyss. For this reason, She had not tampered with the “Spirit Shell” model She had taught Beldina, merely adding a Mind Communication ability.

The key issue was that the metamorphosed Beldina was actually using platinum-gold Holy Chains to collect the Realm of All Spirits. How did she possess such an ability?

Could it be that the Lord of Radiance still had its own consciousness? That He had been watching Beldina all this time?

Archmage Angelina’s knowledge of the Lord of Radiance was limited to the semi-public information from the Alchemical Empire. For the moment, She could not figure out these questions.

Beldina, however, did not stop. She used the platinum-gold Holy Chains to continuously pull over several more fragments of spirit essence, condensing them into small points and absorbing them into her soul.

Only fertile soil can nurture flowers of all shapes and sizes, and the soil manifested on Spirit-Devouring Island was pure Soul Fire spirit essence, sieved and stripped of will. It was like fine sand with no impurities, completely incapable of growing any flowers at all.

The spirit essence that constituted the outer ring of the Realm of All Spirits was different.

From the perspective of the King of the Spirit Realm’s Rejuvenation, the spirit essence accumulated on Spirit-Devouring Island was worthless. But from a spellcaster’s perspective, the spirit essence soil of the outer ring was suffused with complex Law powers and fragments of will. Although collecting the spirit essence of the outer ring carried the risk of soul contamination, it could increase a spellcaster’s magical reserves and enhance their Spirit attribute and spellcasting abilities.

One could say that the collapsing spirit essence of the outer ring was the most valuable part of the Realm of All Spirits.

The Ant-man Empress had long since lost her spellcasting ability and would avoid the outer ring’s spirit essence at all costs. But if it were a demon sovereign or one of the Gods of the Sanctuary, they would go into a frenzy over it, desperately absorbing this Soul Fire spirit essence imbued with the power of the Laws.

And the Chosen One, Beldina, was doing exactly that.

However, the hundreds of enormous platinum-gold chains pulling at the spirit essence soil were accelerating the collapse of the Realm of All Spirits. The vast majority of the spirit essence fell into the abyss, returning to the Elemental Sea of fire. The spirit essence she truly collected amounted to less than twenty percent of the entire outer ring.

Yet, even such a small amount of spirit essence was not something a Chosen One’s soul could handle.

Who exactly was bearing the burden of this Law-infused spirit essence for Beldina? Or rather, for whom was Beldina absorbing this precious Law-infused spirit essence?

The Ant-man Empress thought of the most likely answer—the Lord of Radiance, who was supposed to have no self-awareness!

The Chosen One’s collection of the Law-infused spirit essence was nearing its end. The outer ring of the Realm of All Spirits was in ruins, riddled with deep, abyssal cracks. A few scattered fragments of soil floated in the void, a far cry from its former half-desert, half-forest landscape. It now looked like an apocalyptic world on the verge of destruction.

The Ant-man Empress had repeatedly tried sending mental messages to Beldina through the “Spirit Shell” spell model, but every attempt had failed. It seemed some higher-priority empowerment of Law was blocking her Mental Link with Beldina. The Ant-man Empress was now in a foul mood.

As Beldina retracted the last few platinum chains into the depths of her soul, another change that the Ant-man Empress could not comprehend occurred.

The Chosen One’s spirit body, which had taken the form of an adult woman, was rapidly shrinking. Her bright, brilliant eyes now showed panic, astonishment, and unwillingness. When the platinum chains and the Holy Light dissipated, the Chosen One reverted to that clueless, dazed little darling.

The tiny little girl was startled to see the ruined scenery around her. Then she suddenly discovered her wings were gone and she was suspended in the void. She began to flail her arms and legs frantically, opening her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. The last thing she gave the Ant-man Empress was a look for help before her spirit body rapidly faded, returning to nothingness.

She had left the Realm of All Spirits. Furthermore, she had failed to establish a Mental Link with the Ant-man Empress, which meant that the “Spirit Shell” spell model and “Angelina’s Sorrow” had not taken effect. It further meant that the Chosen One, Beldina, had not become the coordinate for Spirit-Devouring Island.

The Ant-man Empress’s plan to parasitize the divine kingdom of the Lord of Radiance had gone severely awry, but she had not completely failed yet.

The high-level Ant-man Ann, that insignificant pawn, had become Her hope for a desperate comeback.

At the same moment Beldina’s spirit returned to her body, all the ant swarms heard a voice from their sovereign:

“The Pale Sovereign has perished. The Assyrian secret realm will soon fail, and many cracks are now forming… My servants, go! Enter the Assyrian secret realm through Ann’s information, find Beldina and the divine artifact ‘Angelina’s Sorrow’, and bring them both to me.”

In a certain chamber deep within the ruins of the Asoerta Temple, a giant ant egg that occupied half the room shattered with a boom. A high-ranking ant over three meters tall and five meters long crawled out. It looked like a Giant Rhinoceros Beast sheathed in black carapace, its entire body wreathed in a palpable, majestic power. The moment it was born, a powerful wave of psionic energy erupted like a hurricane, sending the low-ranking guard ants in the room tumbling.

“…Great Sovereign of the swarm, I, the War Ant King, Taormias, obey your will!”

Assyrian capital city, pyramid temple plaza.

Green spring water gushed from underground, gathering into a rippling river that flooded the plaza and surged toward the lower parts of the city. Judging by the speed at which the spring was erupting, it would not be long before the entire city was swept away by the river.

Though it looked like a city-wide flood, the Assyrian residents were elated. A dense crowd gathered around the temple plaza, all looking up at the temple platform.

“This is a gift from All Spirits, All Hallows, brought by Queen Beldina!” Harenadak, wearing a feathered crown, raised her hands high and proclaimed, “The subjects of Assyria may only enjoy the Fountain of Youth after the Queen awakens!”

Assyrians of all classes erupted into a deafening roar of praise upon hearing the Chief Priestess’s words. The Nobles of the upper district spontaneously dispatched their private soldiers to maintain order, using leather whips to warn others not to steal a drink from the Fountain of Youth, while carrying away all those who had already drunk from it and fallen into dormancy.

But what truly kept the Assyrian residents restrained was the pack of beasts brought back by the old King’s offspring and the Snake Eye Guard. The most conspicuous beast stood over two meters tall at the shoulder and was more than four meters long. It looked like a mix between a bear and a wild boar, could understand human speech, and could even converse with the Shamans. The several hundred other beasts were all its underlings.

The Assyrians, who worshiped All Spirits, superstitiously believed this to be the legendary Ancestral Spirit Beast King.

It was indeed ferocious and powerful, having effortlessly torn several undead puppets to shreds and even punched the ground, causing the Fountain of Youth to burst forth. The Assyrian residents, who had previously only dared to watch from the shadows, now all flocked to the temple plaza, but they still maintained a clear distance from these beasts and the Snake Eye Guard.

The old King’s several adult offspring now looked at each other in dismay. The sudden eruption of the Fountain of Youth in the temple plaza had washed away all the will of the people and prestige that the great King Mokemo had accumulated in his lifetime. No one could now shake the new Queen’s authority. Not just the hundred thousand-plus Assyrian residents in the city, but even the more than two thousand refugee slave soldiers mobilized by the Snake Eye Guard had lost their morale and could no longer fight.

Father Dayne, Narsen, and the others, protected in the center of the beast pack, were all speechless, their faces ashen. Imosen had launched several attacks with Aberrant Beasts, but all had been thwarted by the human-faced mushrooms. After two days of delay, Father Dayne had finally made up his mind to personally deal with the undead puppets in the temple plaza, despite the risk of being ambushed by the Assyrians.

As it turned out, the divine arts of Radiance were the bane of Ancestral Spirit quasi-spells, and the temple’s four Guardian Spirits were also a type of ghost. Dayne had used an exorcism rite and Sacred Flame Art in conjunction with the Divine Art of Holy Light to break the human-faced mushroom quasi-spell domain set up by the Shamaness Queen and had purified over two hundred undead puppets. He had been on the verge of storming the Main Chamber of the temple.

But who could have imagined that the Fountain of Youth would erupt on such a massive scale at this very moment?

The noble families and the lower district slaves, who had been standing by and doing nothing, were all drawn over by the Fountain of Youth. Tens of thousands of Assyrians had gathered around the temple. If the Randall expedition team dared to attack the temple now, they would be torn to shreds by the fanatical Assyrian residents.

The elite Assyrian forces returning to reinforce the capital city were now less than twenty kilometers away, among them a large number of Animal Spirit Shamans and Beast Spirit Warriors… The Randall expedition team’s rescue plan had failed at the last hurdle.

Harenadak looked down from her high position, casting a deep glance at Tumen, who was standing with the Rare People Shaman. She then turned and walked back into the Main Chamber of the temple without a look back.

Inside the great hall, entwined with the vines of Man-eating flowers, were nearly one hundred Assyrian Shamans. They all wore expressions of trepidation and unease. Seeing Harenadak enter, one of them, an Ancestral Spirit Shaman wearing a brightly colored feather crown, asked eagerly, “Chief Priestess, what is the situation outside?”

Harenadak was by no means as calm as she appeared. Her Nature quasi-spell domain had repelled three assaults from the Snake Eye Guard and the beasts, and she had controlled over one hundred and sixty undead puppets. But just today, the Rare People Shaman had joined forces with the Snake Eye Guard for an all-out attack, their forces arriving at the temple plaza. Another Great Shaman of the Rare People had summoned a milky-white light, and any Soul-Sucking Mushroom illuminated by it had withered instantly.

The situation was critical. Harenadak had no choice but to release the dozens of puppet Giants locked in the temple’s lower levels to stop the Snake Eye Guard and the Rare People from approaching the temple. Unfortunately, even these powerful puppet Giants proved fragile before the quasi-spells of the Rare People Shaman; a few sparks were enough to burn them to ash.

Worst of all, the four Guardian Spirits defending the temple had all dissipated into black smoke and retreated into Beldina’s body. Harenadak and the other Ancestral Spirit Shamans had simultaneously sensed the destruction of the Realm of All Spirits, and without exception, they had all lost most of their spell-like abilities.

Fortunately, the massive eruption of the Fountain of Youth prompted the upper district Nobles, who had been watching coldly from the sidelines, to finally take action. Faced with a miracle, they unhesitatingly chose to support the new Queen.

Harenadak looked around at the Assyrian Shamans and said with a smile, “Great Shaman Tumen will negotiate on our behalf with the Queen’s Father, the savage chief, and the old King’s offspring. Besides, Great Chief Baklok’s army is about to return. We just need to wait for Queen Beldina to open her eyes… They won’t attack the temple now. We are safe here.”

The shaman leader said, his voice filled with frustration and rage, “Chief Priestess, didn’t you sense it? The Realm of All Spirits is gone… and so is the Pale Sovereign. The Queen… what exactly did she do?”

“Insolence! You dare question the Queen?”

Harenadak’s eyes turned cold and ruthless. Several thick, thorny vines from the Man-eating flowers whipped out, strangling the stubborn Ancestral Spirit Shaman on the spot.

Dark red blood seeped through the cracks in the vines, creating a scene of perverse beauty. The other Shamans were jolted awake. The Ancestral Spirit quasi-spells were gone, but the Nature Spirit quasi-spells were still there. Their eyes lit up, and they looked with fervent gazes at the Little Queen lying on the stone platform.

“Something we do not understand has happened in the Realm of All Spirits. It may not have vanished. We will only have answers when the Queen awakens.” Harenadak tapped her serpent staff. She was very displeased with the way these Shamans were looking at Beldina, but given the current situation, the Shaman class had to remain united.

She was about to say more when a dozen or so strong Assyrian Warriors rushed into the great hall, led by her lover, Great Chief Baklok.

“Harena, I’m back! Are you all right?”

A relaxed smile finally bloomed on the Shamaness Queen’s face. She nodded and said, “All Spirits protect me. I am well… very well. Baklok, where is my army?”

The Beast Spirit Warrior was greatly relieved to see the beautiful Shamaness unharmed. He reached out to embrace her shoulders and said, “The army will be outside the city soon. I was worried about you, so I brought some men and came back first.”

Harenadak was in no mood for intimacy with her lover now. She pushed Baklok away and commanded the Ancestral Spirit Shamans, “All of you, go and wait on the lower level. The Queen will summon you when she awakens.”

The dozens of Ancestral Spirit Shamans dared not voice their anger. They lowered their heads and left the Main Chamber, their expressions dejected.

Once the Ancestral Spirit Shamans had gone, the Main Chamber felt much more spacious. Harenadak moved to the stone platform, extending her slender, rounded fingers to gently stroke Beldina’s soft face, as if caressing the most precious of treasures.

A breeze blew into the great hall. At first, it was faint and gentle, but the wind continued to blow, steadily growing fiercer, carrying an icy chill. It moaned and howled like a winter horn, commanding life to hibernate and plants to wither. Hundreds of Flower Fey shrieked and flew toward Beldina and Harenadak, hiding in their souls for refuge. The gnarled Man-eating flowers writhed and contracted, withering and turning yellow before being torn to shreds by the blade-like gale. The violent airflow forced Harenadak and the few Beast Spirit Warriors to shut their eyes, pushing them backward until they were pressed against the stone wall at the edge of the great hall. The most terrifying thing was the bone-chilling cold that caused all things to decay. The Chief Priestess and the Beast Spirit Warriors realized they absolutely could not yield to this cold wind, or even their souls would be frozen solid.

Harenadak held firm in her mind, and the power of the cold weakened, no longer threatening their lives. The winter storm that had swept through the temple’s great hall came to an abrupt halt. It had arrived suspiciously and stopped suddenly. The Shamaness opened her eyes and saw a stranger standing by the stone platform, in the very spot she had just occupied.

He wore form-fitting, silver-white scale armor engraved with black patterns. His figure was slender and perfectly proportioned. His jet-black hair was deeper than the night sky, and his face was as handsome as a Sky God’s. His dark gold eyes shimmered with light, giving him an extraordinary, divine appearance.

“The Elemental Rune Crystal is here, as expected.”

The stranger reached out a flawless, fair hand that was as exquisite as a perfect work of art. As if no one else were present, he plucked “Angelina’s Sorrow” from Beldina’s forehead, then casually pinched the young lady’s slightly chubby cheek.

Harenadak’s narrowed eyes stared at the incomparably handsome stranger. Her voice was filled with strain as she said:

“The Outsider Demigod who killed the Black Blood Sovereign!”

Chapter 867: The Catalyst is a Dwarf

The Randall expedition team had been in Bel’s Whimsical Forest for nearly ten months now. For the better part of a year, Victor had not been idly sleeping outside the secret realm. In fact, he had traveled to many places and laid out numerous plans, including finding several Assyrian savage tribes in the Endless Forest outside the secret realm. From the savages, he had learned fragmented historical information and, of course, the Assyrian language.

The Assyrian savages outside the secret realm each used their own dialects, but Victor, by comparing them and leveraging his knowledge of the Elvish language family and the ancient common tongue, managed to piece together the common patterns of the Assyrian language.

The moment Harenadak spoke, Victor understood her.

This Shamaness called Victor an Outsider Demigod and knew that he had killed the Black Blood Sovereign. Victor immediately deduced a conclusion: the Pale Sovereign must have told her these things, which meant she was, at the very least, one of the Pale Sovereign’s devotees. Coupled with her complete immunity to the mental damage of the Chilling Wind and her own considerable strength, it was clear she held significant authority within the Assyrian Empire.

Victor couldn’t help but raise his dark gold eyes and study her for a few extra moments.

The Shamaness was already wearing precious little, and the Raging Wind Domain had just blown away her ornate feathered headdress, leaving her clothes in disarray and her nearly naked. It was a disheveled state, to be sure, but it also revealed her spring-like beauty and a certain alluring charm. Her full, rounded legs were long and straight, and her slender, serpentine waist accentuated the fullness of her hips. Her tan skin was lustrous and smooth, like ivory with a patina. Two strange purple tattoos snaked from her cheeks near her ears all the way down to her fingertips and toes, adding a splash of exotic color.

Victor had to admit the Assyrian woman before him was astonishingly beautiful, not inferior in the slightest to an initial-rank silver female knight. If a silver female knight’s beauty was radiant, the Shamaness’s appeal lay in the containment of her life force. Intuitively, Victor judged that they were evenly matched, meaning the Shamaness was a Silver-rank life form, having reached the 4th rank in biological level.

Considering the Shamaness’s power and status, and comparing her to the other Assyrian men, Victor determined that the highest level of the Assyrian Bloodline was the 4th rank, complete with a corresponding Bloodline talent.

This updated the “Assyrian” piece of his knowledge jigsaw puzzle: Assyrian savages were generally 1st rank, Assyrian Shamans could reach a maximum of 4th rank, and Assyrian male warriors were between 2nd and 3rd rank. The life level of the Assyrian warriors was similar to that of Gnolls, yet this dozen or so of them had all managed to resist the mental damage of the Chilling Wind. They must possess a unique legacy of power.

The Assyrian warriors protecting the Shamaness were the second least affected after her. The other dozen or so, though uninjured, were huddled together, using their companions’ body heat to fight off the simulated extreme cold of the Chilling Wind, and had yet to recover fully.

Without a doubt, the Shamaness was the highest-ranking Assyrian here. Victor opened his mouth and asked her, “Who are you?”

Harenadak’s heart was pounding. She was under a pressure that Baklok could never imagine. For the Pale Sovereign had only shown her the vision of the battle at the Asoerta Temple, including the scene where a giant, cyan hand formed of storms brutally tore the Pale Sovereign’s Soul Mask from the Black Blood Sovereign’s body.

Based on Victor’s appearance, materializing with the wind, she judged him to be that same, incredibly powerful Demigod. Now, the Outsider Demigod had suddenly spoken in an unfamiliar Assyrian dialect. Harenadak could mostly understand it, but her deep-seated anxiety made her mull over the question repeatedly, striving not to misinterpret the Outsider Demigod’s intent.

But Baklok, wielder of the four Beast Spirits, lunged at Victor.

A warrior’s thoughts are often simple and direct. When faced with a sudden threat, like a close encounter with a tiger, a true warrior seldom hesitates. They either fight back or flee.

Baklok could not flee. His lover was by his side, and the Little Queen of the Assyrian Empire lay on the stone platform, while a strange intruder stood just a few feet away. Out of a warrior’s confidence, Baklok’s Fangs pierced his own lips, injecting a mixed toxin with multiple effects. His toes gripped the ground as he slid forward in the most subtle way possible. The muscle groups throughout his body pulsed and contracted in layers; his entire being was like a powerful bow being drawn taut. He went from a standstill to a full charge in an instant, the spectral forms of a bear, a tiger, and an eagle appearing around him.

He struck with all his might, crossing over ten meters in a flash. He swung the iron axe in his hand, and with a heart-stopping Tiger’s Roar, he viciously chopped at Victor’s head.

The Beast Spirit Warrior’s attack was as swift as thunder and as fast as lightning. Yet in Victor’s Perception, his movements were as slow as a common farmer swinging an axe. However, the Assyrian warrior’s angle of attack and timing were impeccable. The flow of power in his body was not only flawless, but he also employed extraordinary means unfamiliar to Victor.

Clearly, this was a warrior who had ignited the fire of the mind, possessing Gold-rank strength.

Victor was surprised, and a little helpless. This Gold-rank Assyrian warrior had no discernment at all. A human Gold-rank warrior would have understood the vast disparity in their strength and would never have acted so rashly. But this Assyrian warrior chose to attack, and with no reservation. The beastly phantoms around his body were enveloped in an formless power, somewhat resembling the psionic force field of a high-ranking ant, to the point that Victor couldn’t even afford to hold back.

The Raging Wind Sword Saint could have killed every Assyrian in the great hall just moments ago, yet Baklok still dared to attack Victor. This wasn’t brave and decisive; it was reckless. His extraordinary power had come too easily, and his experience and wisdom did not match his Gold-rank strength. This was a clear reflection of the drawbacks of the Assyrian descendants’ long period of peace.

However, the Great Chief of the Beast Spirit Warriors’ Gold-rank strength was the real deal. Unwilling to dodge or retreat, Victor chose to defeat him head-on, displaying his unrivaled power to plant a seed of a mental suggestion in the minds of the Assyrians present.

A tawny halo lit up in Victor’s dark gold eyes, and several cyan-black air masses materialized before him. The Beast Spirit Warrior charged right into them. The beast spirits of the bear, tiger, and eagle looked as if they had been struck by an Ogre Warlord, their mouths opening in silent howls before retreating back into their host’s body. Baklok, suddenly stripped of his spirits’ protection, had no time to react before he felt a ferocious force slam into his stomach, twisting his abdominal muscles and making his liver throb. He felt an urge to gag and vomit.

Baklok endured the mental damage of the Grasp of the Wind Djinn with his tough Physique, but his attacking motion inevitably became distorted.

However, a pale blue arc of light slashed toward him. Baklok only had time to turn his head to protect his vital spot before the void wind element condensed by Victor struck his right shoulder.

The raging torrent of air sent Baklok flying. Harenadak hadn’t even had time to cry out “Don’t!” before the battle was decided. The Outsider Demigod hadn’t even lifted a hand, yet the Assyrian Warrior she took such pride in had been thrown over ten meters away, gravely injured and on the verge of death.

The mightiest Beast Spirit Warrior of the Assyrian Empire lay insensate on the stone floor. A terrifying gash ran from his shoulder to his abdomen, revealing shattered bones and organs with clean-cut edges, yet only a small amount of blood flowed out. The phantom of a giant python was coiled around him, preventing the wound from tearing further. Fortunately, the Snake Spirit had absorbed part of the elemental damage for him; otherwise, that pale blue arc would have been enough to slice him into two corpses.

Victor was rather amazed, staring at the spectral python for a moment.

The Shamaness and the other Assyrian Warriors dared not move. No one thought of trying to rescue the dying Baklok.

The python’s phantom gradually dimmed, but the Beast Spirit Warrior’s wound still failed to close completely. It seemed the python had absorbed some of the void wind element and had been heavily damaged itself. At this rate, the Gold-rank Assyrian warrior was doomed.

Victor turned his gaze to the Shamaness leaning against the wall and said coolly, “You may try to save him.”

Harenadak’s knees went weak, and she almost collapsed to the ground. She composed herself and ordered the other Beast Spirit Warriors, “Quickly, take Great Chief Baklok down to the Fountain of Youth. All of you go, don’t come back.”

Receiving the Chief Priestess Shamaness’s command, the dozen Assyrian Warriors couldn’t help but glance at Victor’s face first. Only after seeing that he had no intention of stopping them did they gently lift the critically injured Baklok and leave the Main Chamber of the temple.

Victor gave a slight nod to the Shamaness and asked once more, “Who are you?”

The Shamaness felt as if she saw a strange vortex in those dark gold eyes. She naturally set down her snake staff and prostrated herself on the ground, hands clasped with her forehead resting on them, her slender waist dipping low and her full hips raised high. In the posture of one worshiping a Sacred Spirit, she spoke to Victor with deference, “Great Demigod Saint, I am the Chief Priestess Shamaness of the Assyrian Empire, Harenadak, and also Queen Beldina’s most loyal servant.”

Harenadak reported truthfully, her mind devoid of any other thoughts. This was a classic sign of one’s mental activity being restricted by external conditions.

Social creatures could all be tamed. Victor had verified his mental charm on the savages outside the secret realm many times, but this was the first time he had charmed a high-level Assyrian spellcaster so easily. It might be related to the nature of the power the Assyrian Shamaness wielded. Generally speaking, the extraordinary power of shamans or priests came easily and was often mismatched with their own mental will, which magnified their mental vulnerabilities when facing a powerful opponent.

On the other hand, Victor couldn’t help but suspect that the ancient Elves had done something when they created the Assyrians. That was why an Assyrian priestess, accustomed to worshiping gods, would immediately prostrate herself in submission upon seeing a Sun Elf.

Victor hadn’t suggested that Harenadak perform the bow. It was a subconscious reaction after being mentally charmed, a matter of instinct.

The Elves had a history of transforming primordial beings into vassal races; the Dwarves and Halflings were living examples. Even the Great Fey, who had a complex relationship with the Elves, had once transformed some ancient humans into Barbarians to serve as vassals.

Beldina’s current appearance made Victor even more certain of his judgment.

He hadn’t seen the little chubster in a year, and she had grown taller. She had been only 1.3 meters tall, but now she was 1.6 meters, with a graceful, budding figure similar to a thirteen-year-old human girl. In Earth years, she would be in the bloom of youth, around fifteen or sixteen. Her chubby face had slimmed into a delicate oval shape, still retaining a bit of baby fat. Traces of her old features could be seen in her brows and eyes, but they were more refined and beautiful. She was sure to grow into a peerless beauty.

Looking at the sleeping Beldina, Victor was reminded of Duchess Auroxia of the Baselius family, that lovely and beautiful legendary female knight.

Aurorsia Baselius had the blood of a Sun Elf, but Beldina had absolutely no connection to the Elves.

The problem was, Beldina’s ears had now become pointed, just like Victor’s.

Could she be the half-elf Queen of the Assyrians?

Victor now had too many questions that needed answers. Controlling the Chief Priestess Shamaness of the Assyrian Empire would save him a lot of trouble.

“For the time being, you will stay by my side… First, arrange a quiet residence for us.”

And so, the Royalist rebellion that had erupted in the Assyrian capital city came to a baffling end. The vast majority of Assyrians were lost in the revelry brought by the Fountain of Youth. They didn’t know that a group of Outsiders had quietly moved into Shamaness Queen Harenadak’s fortified tower, much less that these Outsiders were about to bring a terrible disaster upon them.

Harenadak’s fortified tower had originally belonged to the great King Mokemo. Situated right next to the temple, it was the most magnificent fortified tower in the upper district. The interior, however, was simple. The room that Victor had commandeered from the Shamaness Queen had only a few rows of vents, no windows, and was dim and cold. There wasn’t a single piece of decent furniture to be found; a large straw mat spread on the stone floor served as the bed. The only decorations were some primitive, abstractly styled wood and bone carvings.

Victor also noticed that the chambers of the Assyrian Nobles had no fireplaces, making the rooms rather cold. It was still summer; in winter, the entire bedroom would be like an ice cellar.

This was likely because the Assyrians’ physiques were resistant to both heat and cold. They wore very little clothing year-round, adapting not only to the variable climate of the rainforest but also enabling them to survive in the dark world underground.

The Shamaness Queen’s chamber was cold and dark, unsuitable for ordinary humans, but it had no effect on the members of the Randall expedition team.

The blonde, green-eyed Charlotte hugged Victor’s waist from behind, her lithe and elastic body pressed tightly against his back. The female knight’s eyes were moist, her skin dewy, as if coated in a transparent oil. After a long-awaited reunion with her beloved Master, the Concubine Knight’s heart was filled with a fiery passion, and after a moment of tenderness, the flames only burned brighter.

However, Charlotte understood that their current situation was fraught with danger. Since His Highness Randell could enter the secret realm, those Ant-man monsters couldn’t be far behind. This was no time to indulge in tender moments; her Master had much to attend to. She asked softly, “Darling, where are Dili, Fugerui, and Mewen? Why aren’t they with you?”

The Randall expedition team had carried out the mission to rescue Beldina without Victor’s help. They couldn’t be said to have succeeded, but their performance was commendable. Charlotte and the others had successfully rendezvoused with Narsen’s squad without any major casualties. At least none of the core family members Victor valued had died; only three sword-wielding handmaidens had been sacrificed.

Victor had been mentally prepared to sacrifice some core members on this expedition for the Randall family. So far, even the two Ferocious warriors he’d had the least faith in had survived. Red Wolf’s and Rogers’ disabilities had also been fortunately healed by the Fountain of Youth. The loss of the sword-wielding handmaidens was not too great either. They were the weakest individually, and with a total of seven sacrificed, the fact that ten survived was beyond Victor’s expectations. This was all because the alchemical creatures had not hesitated to sacrifice themselves to protect the core family members Victor had so carefully cultivated.

However, the expedition team had no Aid from alchemical creatures in Bel’s Whimsical Forest. They relied entirely on themselves to cleverly navigate the descendants of the Assyrian Empire, at one point even changing the political landscape of the Empire.

Every one of them had made progress that gratified Victor. This progress was not in terms of individual strength, but in broadening their horizons, enhancing their wisdom, and their ability to think independently and cooperate to solve problems.

Take Charlotte, for example. She was still an experienced Bronze-rank female knight, but now no one could dismiss her as His Highness Randell’s flower vase knight.

Victor’s direct confrontation with the Ant-man Empress was about to begin, so time was certainly tight, but connecting with his subordinates was also essential. He spent two or three days diligently listening to each person’s report, comforting and encouraging them, and ensuring they wouldn’t slack off just because their Master had arrived.

“Dili and Fugerui have taken some elite family warriors elsewhere to prepare a retreat route for us. As for Mewen, I’ve arranged for her to find the high-level Ant-man, Ann,” Victor said with a smile.

“Mewen went to find Ann?”

“Mm,” Victor nodded, then scooped Charlotte up into his arms and explained, “I can now be certain that Ann is a coordinate prepared by the Ant-man Empress. Once the ant swarms find Ann via pheromones, they can enter the Assyrian secret realm. This indirectly shows that the Assyrian secret realm hasn’t completely collapsed. The number of Ant-men that can enter won’t be too large, but they will be powerful. There might even be a second War Ant King. I had Mewen direct Ann to run to a more distant place to buy us some time.”

Charlotte wrapped her fair, well-proportioned arms gently around Victor’s neck. After a moment of thought, she said, “The Assyrians’ strength will improve considerably after drinking from the Fountain of Youth. If there’s enough time, we could use them to fight against the ant swarms.”

Victor shook his head. “Quite the opposite. The Ant-man Empress can also use the Assyrians against us. The difference is that the ant swarms can threaten the Assyrians’ survival to coerce them into cooperation, whereas we have too few people and lack the means to balance the threat of the ant swarms… Even if the Assyrians’ Little Queen wakes up and orders them to fight the ant swarms, it would be useless.”

Charlotte was struck silent for a moment before she lowered her head and said, “I was being too simplistic.”

A true king should lead their people to prosperity. If Beldina brought destruction to the Assyrians, no one would obey her commands.

Victor smiled and asked, “Then what do you think we should do about the Assyrians?”

Encouraged by Victor, Charlotte said without hesitation, “Since the Assyrians pose a great risk to us, we must do our utmost to prevent that risk from materializing. We cannot let them submit to the Ant-man Empress.”

Victor was silent for a moment, then said, almost to himself, “It’s quite a coincidence, really. Outside, I rescued a Dwarf guard who was separated from the Elves of Silverymoon City. If this isn’t a coincidence, but someone’s arrangement, then things get interesting.”

“A Dwarf? Someone’s arrangement?” Charlotte blinked her green eyes, a confused expression on her face.

Victor frowned. “That Dwarf is a subordinate of General Moonsong from Silverhawk City. I know him. I personally witnessed him fall into the Realm of All Spirits… He’s the one, the Dwarf guard I had you rescue from the mountain belly tunnels… Obviously, he was rescued later, but his kin had already left the Asoerta Mountains, so he was left to wander the Endless Forest alone. When I found him with my Nemesis talent, he was about to be killed by a pack of forest wolves…. Before I entered the Assyrian secret realm, I settled that Dwarf in an Assyrian savage tribe.”

“This Dwarf from Silverhawk City might just be the catalyst for the Assyrians…”

Victor stood up and said, “Come, let’s go see Beldina. She is the key to this whole affair.”

Chapter 868: Touch of Chaos

Beldina slept in the adjoining room, guarded by two Gold-rank Ferocious warriors, Narsen and Caligula. Imosen and Dayne refused to leave her room for a moment, and Shaman Queen, Harenadak and the Nature Spirit Great Shaman Tumen also kept a constant vigil by her side.

Victor walked into Bel’s room with Charlotte. Caligula eagerly trotted over and fell to his knees before Victor with a thump. He wasn’t worshiping his Master, but simply making it more convenient for Victor to pat his shoulder or stroke his head.

“Master, Bel’s about to wake up, isn’t she?” the big simpleton asked with a foolish grin.

Victor often stroked Beldina’s little head as a sign of affection. Caligula, who stood 2.3 meters tall, also needed his Master’s praise and care.

Everyone in The Randell Expeditionary Force had changed, yet Aka’s mind remained as pure as ever. Victor felt a flicker of warmth, patting Aka’s broad shoulders and asking in return, “How did Aka know Bel was about to wake up?”

“Because Master is here…” Caligula couldn’t explain clearly, so he pointed at Victor’s ears.

“Haha, that’s right. I heard a change in the rhythm of Bel’s breathing and heartbeat… She should be waking up soon.” Victor laughed loudly, then praised him, “Aka is so clever.”

Caligula was ecstatic. He scrambled to his feet and shot a smug look at Narsen, as if to gloat: Even Master says I’m clever.

Narsen first glared at the big simpleton, then smiled and greeted Victor. Everyone in the room was an extraordinary being of Gold rank or higher; the Shaman Queen and Great Shaman Tumen even possessed the strength of the Legendary-rank. The shift in Beldina’s breathing and heartbeat from deep sleep toward wakefulness did not escape their notice, and of course, it was perceived instantly by the Raging Wind Sword Saint.

Imosen, feeling both happy and worried, walked over and asked in a low voice, “Your Highness, when Bel wakes up, do you think she’ll still be the same Bel?”

Victor first nodded to the two Great Shamans kneeling on the floor, then walked straight toward Beldina, who was lying on a stone platform.

He could not answer Imosen’s question; he harbored the same concern.

Beldina’s cheeks were rosy, her long, curved eyelashes trembled slightly, and her breathing had become noticeably heavier, indicating that she had already emerged from her deep slumber and entered a light sleep.

Victor used his Elemental Insight of wind to carefully inspect Beldina’s bloodline. Aside from her ears having become slightly pointed and her features and physique more refined, there was no sign of an affinity for the water element within her body.

This meant that Beldina merely resembled an elven noble in appearance, but her bloodline lacked the hallmark elven trait of water element affinity. She was still of a human bloodline.

Victor did not know why Beldina had changed like this. Perhaps it was related to her talent in Wizardry, her experiences in the Realm of All Spirits, or the Ant-man Empress. Victor was certain of one thing: a person’s soul and bloodline were an inseparable whole, their Origin being a manifestation of the four great elements within the Law of Life. Even the slightest bloodline variation would inevitably involve the soul.

Whether Bel was still the same Bel was truly hard to say.

However, people always change. From childhood to maturity, from youth to old age, one’s perception in each period changes with time and environment. These changes fell within the normal range; one could not say that a person was no longer themselves after growing up.

What worried Victor and the Randall expedition team was that Bel’s changes exceeded this normal range. On this matter, Victor had personal experience. Two shattered Will Sides of the soul had created the Gold-Eyed Earl of today, but neither the little Baron of House Wimbledon nor the transmigrator from Earth was truly Victor.

Fortunately, there were people here who could judge the state of Beldina’s soul, and more than one at that.

The Spirit Sight Art of the two Legendary Shamans and Father Dayne’s divine art of true sight could observe changes in the soul from different perspectives. Most importantly, they could compare it to Bel’s previous soul state.

The Assyrian Shamans had their own agenda; their judgment was not to be trusted.

Victor stared at Beldina for a moment, then suddenly asked, “Aren’t you going to say something to me?”

Father Dayne, with his short hair, was dressed in the thorium composite leather armor of House of Randell, an adamantine mace hanging from his waist. He looked more like a warrior than a priest of the Lord of Radiance. He paused, looking left and right before confirming that Victor was indeed speaking to him. He then said, a little awkwardly, “Your Highness, could we speak somewhere else?”

Beldina had been slow to awaken, a fact that the members of the Randall expedition team blamed on the Assyrian Shamans. Father Dayne’s reaction had been particularly intense, even more so than Beldina’s own father. He had repeatedly advised Victor to drive the Shaman Queen and Tumen, who lingered by Bel’s side, out of the room, but Victor had refused.

The beautiful Queen Harenadak represented the upper-class noble powers of the Assyrian capital city and its various settlements. Great Shaman Tumen, on the other hand, represented the slave class and numerous savage tribes loyal to the old King. Behind them were the collective interests of the Assyrians and the Assyrian savages, a population of over five hundred thousand. Among them were hundreds of Beast Spirit Warriors, Assyrian Shamans, and hundreds of Undead Behemoths—a formidable force when combined.

It was precisely because these two Great Shamans wielded such power and had so many followers that they received the Favor of the Force of Destiny. Victor’s mental suggestion had only a minor effect on Harenadak and Tumen. They could easily recall their responsibilities and thus shake off the seed of a mental suggestion.

X-3 calculated that, using the high-level Ant-man Ann as a standard, it would take more than a decade for a seed of a mental suggestion to possibly take effect in the depths of Harenadak’s and Tumen’s minds.

Victor decisively abandoned his initial plan, using only the barest minimum of mental charm on Harenadak and Tumen to maintain a shallow sense of goodwill.

The situation was now extremely delicate. The ant swarms were watching menacingly from outside the secret realm, while the Assyrian army had the upper district completely surrounded within the secret realm. It would not be difficult for Victor to take Beldina away, but very few of the other expedition members would be able to break out.

Even if Victor was willing to sacrifice the core members of his family, whom he had painstakingly nurtured, what if he took the Little Queen of the Assyrians with him? Would these hundreds of thousands of Assyrian descendants submit to the sovereign of the ant swarms? And then, would the two forces converge and march toward the Oak Savannah near the Centaur Hills?

From what Victor knew of Sylvia, she had one hundred percent already dispatched troops to the Oak Savannah.

On one hand, Sylvia had to resist the invasion of the Ant-man plague in the Oak Savannah. On the other hand, the York family only needed to gain a firm foothold south of the Oak Savannah, near the banks of the Goldwater River, and build a fortress and a port to turn part of the Oak Savannah into a pioneering pastoral area, continuously supplying warhorses and meat to the York family and the Gambis Kingdom.

Sylvia’s military plans certainly had not accounted for hundreds of thousands of Assyrians. The Gambis Kingdom did not have the capacity to simultaneously fight a combined army of the ant swarms and the Assyrians in the Oak Savannah.

These Assyrian descendants were a force Victor had to win over; at the very least, he could not let them be enslaved by the Ant-man Empress!

Dayne could not possibly fail to understand such simple reasoning. Yet he still showed hostility towards the two Great Shamans, even disregarding his own safety.

From this perspective, the current Beldina must be very important to the priest, which meant he had definitely seen something.

Victor said coldly, “There’s no need to avoid the Assyrian Shamans. Speak here.”

Dayne sighed under his breath and said, in the dialect of the Teutonic Duchy, “Your Highness, using the divine art of true sight, I saw the power of the divine arts of Radiance in Bel’s soul. It was a divine art in the form of chains. I have never seen it, let alone heard of it… It’s obvious that that lord made arrangements for Bel long ago. As for its function, I estimate it is a seal… a seal on Beldina’s Wizardry talent, which is why even Pontiff Clement failed to discover she was actually a little wizard when he examined her.”

He paused, then lowered his voice and added, “However, I can now see that the divine chains are sealing a powerful soul force, which should be the Realm of All Spirits… The reason Bel hasn’t woken up is that the divine chains are sorting through the Realm of All Spirits. The chains will grow stronger by absorbing the power of the Realm of All Spirits, and once a balance is formed between the two, Bel will awaken. Your Highness, with the methods of an Attendant of Radiance, the Assyrian Shamans will never find out that we have intercepted the Realm of All Spirits. So…”

Dayne put on a shifty expression that said, “We should hurry up and figure out a way to get Beldina out of here.” Victor, however, found it amusing.

The priest wanted to snatch the prize from the jaws of a tiger, to take Beldina, who had absorbed the Realm of All Spirits, back to the Radiant Church, even if it meant sacrificing his own life. This was normal. Father Miller represented the highest power of the Radiant Church, perhaps no less than the first Pope Inoc, and Father Dayne had full confidence in the top-tier God-favored of the Lord of Radiance.

The problem was that Dayne’s own standing was too low. He was guessing at the Spirit Priest’s schemes based on his own understanding, which was bound to lead to serious misjudgment.

Victor believed old man Miller’s plot was likely aimed at some unknown entity. Since it was unknown, it did not include the already known Ant-man Empress.

The reason was simple: assuming Miller and Victor shared the same goal, there would be no need for him to hide the truths he had seen and his various schemes from the Raging Wind Sword Saint, who was single-mindedly focused on dealing with the Ant-man Empress.

From this, it was clear that Miller’s opponent possessed the extraordinary ability to perceive the trajectory of destiny, so the God-favored could not interfere too much with Victor’s actions, lest the opponent detect traces of the Great Divination. This suggested that behind the Ant-man Empress was at least one unknown extraordinary being.

However, none of this had anything to do with Victor. He would only consider problems from his family’s standpoint, based on the current situation; he had no need to try and fathom Father Miller’s intentions.

Victor couldn’t be bothered to explain his position to Dayne. He just nodded and glanced sideways at Harenadak and Tumen.

The Spirit Sight Art of the Assyrian Shamans was wondrous; they used it to heal diseases, dispel curses, and remove all sorts of negative conditions. Now that the Realm of All Spirits had vanished, Harenadak and Tumen had not attempted to awaken Beldina with their Spirit Sight Art. They didn’t dare to, which meant they were utterly clueless and had never anticipated such a situation.

With his extraordinary wisdom, Victor’s thoughts turned, and he guessed that Harenadak, much like Father Dayne, had blindly trusted the Pale Sovereign, luring Beldina and forcing her to tear open the Realm of All Spirits. It was highly likely that Harenadak and Tumen had fallen for one of the Ant-man Empress’s tricks without realizing it.

Fortunately, Beldina was now awake. All mysteries would soon be revealed.

How could a young girl with slightly pointed ears and a face as beautiful as an elf’s, feigning sleep, possibly deceive the extraordinary beings present?

Imosen noticed his precious daughter’s eyes were shut tight, but her ears were twitching slightly. She was, in fact, already awake. He went forward, shook Beldina’s shoulder, patted her cheek, and called out softly, “Bel, wake up…”

The little girl, annoyed by her father’s patting, simply turned her body to avoid Imosen’s hand, refusing to open her eyes.

Caligula walked over, nudged the helpless Imosen aside, and reached out to push Bel, laughing heartily. “Lazybones Bel is pretending to sleep. Get up! Aka will take Bel to play, and we’ll eat delicious roasted grubs…”

Gulp.

Beldina swallowed her saliva and turned her face back, sniffing with her little nose. But she didn’t smell any roasted meat, so she continued to play possum.

Everyone looked at each other, not understanding what Beldina was up to. Victor stepped forward, bent down, and was just about to pry the little girl’s eyelids open when he noticed two blushes rise on Beldina’s flawless face. Her little hands were clenched into fists, and her small, pink lips were secretly pouting. She seemed nervous, shy, yet a little expectant, naturally exuding a girlish charm that was a mix of innocence and allure.

Victor couldn’t help but frown his long, straight brows. Just then, Charlotte secretly tugged his sleeve, gave him a mischievous smile, and mouthed silently, “The ‘Sleeping Beauty’ fairytale.”

Only then did Victor understand. Beldina was still the same Bel, but she had grown into a young woman.

Although Beldina’s actual age was greater than even Brandon’s, over twenty years old, in Victor’s mind, Bel was like his little sister, or even a precious daughter. It was impossible for him to kiss Beldina as in the “Sleeping Beauty” fairytale.

His Highness Randell turned and waved towards the doorway. The snow-white Savage Bear-Dog, White Bread, came trotting over, wagging its head and tail. Victor pointed at Bel’s small feet, signaling for White Bread to lick her.

The Savage Bear-Dog possessed decent intelligence, but it was a dog, after all, and could not understand its master’s true intent. When Victor told it to lick Bel, it immediately stuck out its wet, red tongue and licked the sole of Bel’s foot.

The young woman finally couldn’t hold it in any longer. She burst into giggles and, in the same motion, kicked White Bread in the head. The Bear-Dog, in a Deeply Savaged State and nearly the size of a tiger, suddenly slumped to the ground and fell fast asleep, a loud snore rumbling in its throat.

Beldina sat up, jumped onto Victor, and pouted, her voice quivering on the verge of tears as she said sweetly, “Master, Bel missed you so much.”

Victor, holding Beldina who had now taken on the appearance of a young woman, asked in surprise, “What did you just do?”

Bel glanced at the soundly sleeping “White Bread” and muttered resentfully, “Stupid dog, you tickled me. I made it sleep until tomorrow morning.”

“Is this your ability?”

“Mhm.” Bel nodded, lifting her chin and showing off proudly, “This is a psionic spell Tutor Angelina taught me, called the Touch of Chaos… She taught me many other psionic spells, and I haven’t forgotten them, but I can only use ‘Touch of Chaos’ right now.”

Victor’s eyes flickered. He set Beldina down, patted her head, and looked around at everyone. He smiled and said, “It seems we all get to listen to Beldina’s story…”

Beldina took two days to tell everyone her story. It was a tale full of twists and turns, containing many unknown secrets about the Realm of All Spirits, Spirit-Devouring Island, the Black Blood Sovereign, the Pale Sovereign, psionic spells, and also the story of the founder of the Assyrian Empire, the first Assyrian Queen, Angelina, who was now the Ant-man Empress.

Victor possessed the most comprehensive information. Combining it with Beldina’s experience, he concluded that everything was a conspiracy orchestrated by the Ant-man Empress. As an Archmage of the ancient Alchemical Empire and the founder of the Assyrian Empire, the Ant-man Empress knew every move of the Assyrian Shamans. What chance did the Pale Sovereign and the Assyrian descendants have against her endless scheming?

Harenadak and Great Shaman Tumen needed time to digest the information Beldina had brought back and also had to handle some matters personally. They finally stopped standing guard over their Little Queen.

Victor also had some free time and discussed the psionic spells Beldina had learned with Father Dayne and Imosen the Wizard.

In truth, psionic spells were a very obscure system of magic from the ancient Alchemical Empire, with strict requirements for the spellcaster. But for now, Beldina could only use the most basic spell in that system—the Touch of Chaos.

Beldina used spirit essence fragments from the Realm of All Spirits as her power source. Any object she touched would undergo an uncertain change, simultaneously involving the three great domains of Wizardry: the elemental body, the mental body, and the metamorphic body. For instance, she could ignite or freeze an object, or she could heal, curse, strengthen, or weaken a creature. Beldina could use the Touch of Chaos to display extraordinary powers similar to Victor’s Wind Blade, Father Dayne’s divine arts, and Imosen’s wizardry, though there would be differences in their effects and principles.

The uncertainty of the Touch of Chaos mainly lay in its effects and principles, but overall, it aligned with Beldina’s wishes. She wanted White Bread to sleep until the next morning, and after she touched it, White Bread fell into a deep sleep. Why it fell asleep and for how long was what remained uncertain.

The willpower and life force of the target would have an uncertain influence on the Touch of Chaos.

If Beldina wished for Narsen to be dazed, the Touch of Chaos would basically be ineffective. But if she tried to strengthen Narsen, the strengthening effect of the Touch of Chaos would be surprisingly good.

A spellcasting target with particularly strong willpower could even distort the actual effect of the Touch of Chaos. For example, if Bel clearly wished for the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s finger to be immobilized, not only would it be ineffective, but Victor could also transform the Touch of Chaos into a spiritual restoration art.

The results of the tests showed that Beldina currently only had a Bronze-rank spellcasting level; she was still a weak psionic spell apprentice. She could cast Touch of Chaos once every thirty-four minutes, for a maximum of twenty times a day. If the target of the spell forcibly enhanced the effect of the Touch of Chaos, for example, if Narsen wished for the Touch of Chaos to fully strengthen him, then all of Beldina’s daily spell uses would be exhausted by him.

Although the Touch of Chaos was uncertain and had a weak effect on Silver-rank enemies, Victor evaluated the essence of this psionic spell as high-end, with great potential yet to be tapped.

The principle of the Touch of Chaos should be to use the fire element to mobilize the other three elements for a Law recreation, which was equivalent to an extraordinary process of producing a cause from a given result. Since the Touch of Chaos did not have a fixed spell model and relied entirely on the willpower of Beldina and the spell’s target to produce different extraordinary effects, it could also be called a minor art of wishing.

Unfortunately, this Creator-like extraordinary characteristic doomed the spellcasting level of the Touch of Chaos to be very low, and improving its effectiveness was extremely difficult.

Touch of Chaos was like a small magic trick. Beldina could ignite a piece of wood or freeze a basin of water, but she couldn’t do anything more powerful. In reality, White Bread, who had no defenses against Beldina, fell victim to her Touch of Chaos but only remained unconscious for less than a minute.

And Bel had wished for it to sleep until the next morning.

From this, Victor deduced that the characteristic of the psionic spell system must be a progression from uncertainty to certainty. As Beldina’s strength increased, and she used psionic spell models, liberating more spirit essence as an extra supplement to her spiritual power, it was possible that she could cast a great fireball with power comparable to the Breath of a Dragonoid Rager.

The all-encompassing nature of the psionic spell system gave Beldina unimaginable room for growth. The phenomenon of her ears becoming pointed and her features resembling those of a half-elf was also explained.

However, the Ant-man Empress’s accumulations over twenty thousand years had become Beldina’s windfall. The young lady’s luck was abnormally good, which made Victor suspicious.

Was the Realm of All Spirits really the accumulation of the Ant-man Empress and the successive generations of Assyrian Wizard Kings?

If the Realm of All Spirits had another master, why would they give such a precious power to Beldina?

In any case, Father Miller had already locked the Realm of All Spirits with a powerful divine art, so it wouldn’t affect Beldina for now… Victor shook his head, put away “Angelina’s Grief,” and took out the memory crystal from Asoerta Temple. He handed it to Beldina and instructed, “Little Mage, help me unlock it.”

Beldina took the crystal, fiddled with it for a moment, then wrinkled her pretty little eyebrows and said with puzzlement, “Master, there’s only one sentence in here, and nothing else.”

“Hmm?” Victor looked at Bel in surprise, waiting for her explanation.

Beldina continued, “The specific content is this: ‘The Council President demands I delete all research records from the memory crystal, leaving only his name—Kognoril. I don’t know why the Supreme Elementalist did this, he clearly activated the Divine Colossi and should have already perished… Alright, I will follow his instructions and leave his name, but I must record one thing, so that my successor will know: I, the Great Alchemist Maximo, hurt Angelina, but I have no regrets!’.”

Victor silently took back the Great Alchemist Maximo’s memory crystal. After a moment of contemplation, he still sank his consciousness into it.

However, the expected memory fragments did not flood into Victor’s mind. Instead, he entered a consciousness space similar to the one when Alchemy Tower No. 7 was activated.

There was nothing inside the chaotic consciousness space. Just as Victor was about to withdraw, he suddenly saw a figure wreathed in firelight walking towards him. He couldn’t help but widen his eyes and exclaim in shock, “Sylvia! How is this possible?”

Chapter 869: A Reminder from the World’s Will

In the upper echelons of the ancient Alchemical Empire, Alchemy Tower Masters held the lowest status. The memory crystals created by Alchemists were not intended for them.

A few years ago, when Victor first deciphered an ancient alchemist’s memory crystal, a huge volume of information had rushed into his mind chaotically and all at once, nearly costing him his life. Fortunately, he was powerful enough to withstand it. Had an ordinary Alchemy Tower Master received those memory fragments, their Will Side of the soul would have likely collapsed.

After getting burned once, Victor began to ponder how to safely read the memory crystals of the ancient alchemists.

He was neither a Knight Alchemist nor a Wizard Inspector, but his Mind’s Dominator, combined with X-3, could always devise some special methods.

However, the task proved far more difficult than Victor had anticipated. It wasn’t until he gained Insight into the mysteries of the mythical nine-headed lizard and created the Poltanos Secret Art that he finally made some headway.

The visualization of the mythical three-headed lizard was, in fact, a personification of the subconscious. If he could temporarily swap his subconscious and conscious personas, then Poltanos—chaotic of mind, powerful of instinct, and infinite of potential—could temporarily replace Victor’s conscious mind, and it would be unaffected by the chaotic onslaught of memory fragments. This was because the mythical three-headed lizard couldn’t understand the information recorded by the ancient alchemists at all, but it would retain an impression, storing it within “its subconscious.” At that point, Victor’s conscious persona, representing rational cognition, could begin to process the impressions stored by the mythical three-headed lizard, reorganizing the disordered memory fragments chronologically and thereby preventing his own soul’s Will Side from being battered.

It was an absolutely brilliant idea, for the instinct-driven Will Side possessed the most stable structure, perfectly capable of resisting an information assault while protecting the fragile and volatile emotional and cognitive parts of the mind.

Of course, this consciousness substitution had its drawbacks: Victor would temporarily turn into an imbecile. Fortunately, it was only temporary, and he could swap his conscious and subconscious minds back.

After his Spirit attribute had increased by two points, Victor had already tested the method and succeeded. He named this secret technique of consciousness substitution “Soul Lock.”

Having mastered the “Soul Lock” secret technique, Victor confidently prepared to receive the memory crystal of the ancient alchemist Maximo, but his hopes were dashed. Maximo’s research, daily logs, and the secrets of the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower had all been deleted. Only a single message remained in the memory crystal.

Through the ancient alchemist’s memory crystal, Victor entered a consciousness space. A human silhouette, outlined in flowing fire, was projected into his consciousness.

The brilliant flames were impossible to look at directly, and Victor could not make out the newcomer’s features, but the magnificent aura that looked down upon all living things was, as if from the same mold, identical to the power Sylvia occasionally displayed. Victor’s heart pounded, and he blurted out Sylvia’s name. However, he quickly realized that this couldn’t be Sylvia. This was a Spirit Knight from over twenty thousand years ago, the driving force behind the Alchemical Empire’s god-creating project, the Council President of The Highest Council, the Supreme Elementalist, the Great Alchemist Kognoris.

The ruler of the Alchemical Empire left a message for me from over twenty thousand years ago? What in the world could this mean?

For a rare moment, Victor’s mind was in turmoil. His emotions fluctuated wildly, and he could even feel a tremor originating from the depths of his being.

“Sylvia, the Supreme Elementalist of this era?”

Before Victor could regain his composure, the figure of flowing flames spoke. His tone was gentle, his deep voice filled with a power that commanded respect. “An outsider like you would indeed attract the attention of a Supreme Elementalist—oh, in your era, the Supreme Elementalist is known as a Spirit Knight. Moreover, you’ve also occupied the position of the Sun Elf… You must be the partner of the Spirit Knight Sylvia, correct?”

Victor forced himself to calm down, using X-3 to overcome his emotional turbulence. He looked directly at the brilliant, flaming figure and ventured, “Your Excellency is the Council President of the Alchemical Empire, Lord Kognoris?”

“I am,” the figure of flowing flames admitted without hesitation.

Victor thought for a moment, then asked, “Your era was more than twenty thousand years ago. You should have perished. Is this a memory you left for me, or perhaps a projection of your consciousness?”

The Spirit Knight, who had been active over two millennia ago, chuckled. “How could a memory or a projection of consciousness interact and communicate with a person? I am still alive. It is just that your concept of time is meaningless to me, and my concept of time is beyond your understanding. You need only know that I am speaking to you from twenty thousand years away.”

Victor fell silent for a second before responding, “You’ve peered through the chaos of the future and are speaking with the future me from your own era?”

Kognoris couldn’t help but exclaim in admiration, “Outsider, you astonish me. I had thought that only a Spirit Knight in their perfect state could glimpse the mysteries of the fragments of spacetime.”

He then asked with great interest, “Outsider, what else do you know?”

An ordinary person would certainly not understand the Supreme Elementalist’s meaning, but Victor, who had been thoroughly corrupted by the science fiction literature of Earth, was an exception.

Mortals existed on a timeline, perceiving time as unidirectional, continuous, and irreversible, and this perception existed only within the concept of the “present.” What had happened in the past certainly could not be changed, but the decisions a person made at a point in the “present” could cause the future to collapse into reality. If the timeline was a single, continuous line, then everything was predestined, and any person’s efforts would be meaningless. How then could there be a chaotic future? If the changes of the future were endless, then the timeline must have infinite branches.

Therefore, the time Kognoris perceived was not a single, continuous line, but rather a series of images. He looked at the fragments of future spacetime like an ordinary person browsing different pictures.

Putting himself in the other’s shoes, he could understand: the Supreme Elementalist of the Alchemical Empire was, at his own point in time, speaking with a Victor from some future spacetime.

Victor’s voice was somewhat strained as he asked, “Are you… an Incarnation of the Creator Taelon Ruier?”

To see through the various changes of the future was the domain of a Creator. Anything less was mortal! Victor’s confidence evaporated, leaving him anxious and unsettled, like an illegal stowaway caught red-handed by law enforcement.

Kognoris gave an ambiguous answer. “Yes, but not entirely. The Supreme Elementalist, the Spirit Knight, or even a worm writhing in the dirt—all living things in this world are incarnations of the Creation Giant Ape. You are the only exception. Hmm, you are like an uninvited guest… Don’t be nervous. I welcome you on behalf of the Creator.”

The ancient Spirit Knight was in the mood for a joke. Victor quietly breathed a sigh of relief. As long as it wasn’t the Creator Taelon Ruier himself coming to make trouble for him, it was fine.

“Council President, My lord, do you have any instructions for me?” Victor composed himself and began to converse with Kognoris in his capacity as an Alchemy Tower Master of the Empire.

According to the Alchemical Empire’s hierarchy, Victor, as the Tower Master of a Logistics Alchemy Tower, was utterly insignificant, a little character. The gap in status between him and the Council President of The Highest Council was immense. But he was likely the only surviving Alchemy Tower Master. Even if there were other, unknown ones, Victor was the one with the most power and influence.

The Council President needed to revive the Alchemical Empire, and His Highness Randell was undoubtedly the best candidate. Alternatively, Victor could also become the most powerful obstacle to the Empire’s revival. If Kognoris chose someone else as his successor, Victor would not just sit back and wait for his doom.

At least, that was how Victor saw it. In truth, to presume to fathom the thoughts of a Spirit Knight of the highest standing was simply wishful thinking.

“No instructions. I wanted to see you merely out of curiosity.”

Kognoris explained further, “When I released my full power and reached the perfect state of a Supreme Elementalist, I was able to glimpse all the changes in this world, but some fragments of spacetime were shrouded in chaos, which caught my attention. I traced that timeline back and found the key node here with Maximo, so I made arrangements to meet you.”

This isn’t how I thought this conversation would go… Victor’s mind was a bit muddled. The Council President of the ancient Alchemical Empire didn’t seem to care about the grand cause of reviving the Empire. He couldn’t help but ask, “Your Excellency, do you not wish for me to restore the legacy of the Alchemical Empire?”

Kognoris laughed. Although the figure of flowing flames had no smiling expression, Victor just knew that he was indeed laughing—a laugh tinged with a slight mockery, yet not without goodwill.

“If I didn’t care about the legacy of the Alchemical Empire, I would not have unleashed my full power. Once I reached my perfect state, the things I cared about before no longer mattered, including the continuation of the Alchemical Empire or the human race.”

Victor stammered, “The Alchemist Maximo recorded a piece of information in the memory crystal, saying that you activated the Divine Colossi… I don’t know what that is, but it must be a power that even a Spirit Knight would find difficult to bear. Maximo said that by activating the Divine Colossi, you had perished. Did you not sacrifice yourself to defeat a powerful enemy and protect the Alchemical Empire?”

Kognoris “shook his head” and said, “Before I removed my self-limitations, I also believed I would perish. But that was not the case. I have transcended the laws of time and space and experienced countless futures. In this moment, I am eternal. The things I once cared for are all insignificant to the eternal.”

The Supreme Elementalist was articulating an important concept. Immortality on a timeline, even living until the end of the world, was not eternity. True eternity was to fix a point in time with one’s own self-awareness and, at that point, achieve omniscience.

“Only an anomaly like you could pique my interest,” Kognoris added.

Victor quickly shifted his thinking and followed the Supreme Elementalist’s line of thought. “You’ve seen all the future endings?”

“More or less, but not ones that include you, the anomaly,” Kognoris paused slightly before continuing, “I don’t want to answer your questions, and you shouldn’t expect to get any answers from me, because you could not hear all the answers even if you were to live to old age.”

Facing a Spirit Knight in his perfect state, Victor felt as small as an ant. The secrets he cared so much about were meaningless to Kognoris.

However, Kognoris was now a Spirit Knight in the truest sense of the word. The opportunity to communicate with Him was so precious that Victor could not give up easily.

“Great Supreme Elementalist, what is it that you want from me?”

The bright, yet not blinding, flowing flames danced joyfully. Kognoris said happily, “Outsider, I want to know your purpose.”

“My purpose?”

Victor thought seriously for a long time, then chose a clever topic. “I want to know who brought me into Taelon Ruier’s world. I first need survival, but I discovered that someone wanted to kill me as soon as I arrived. I must know who my enemy is!”

As he spoke, Victor manifested a demonic face in the consciousness space, the visage of the being that had shattered the little Baron Wimbledon’s Will Side of the soul.

“The second offspring of the Demon Serpent of the Abyss? The first demon born in the Abyss? The first of the three sovereigns, the Black Stone King, Maditoxiupakelo?” Kognoris’s gaze narrowed, and he said with sudden realization, “I see, so that’s how it is… what a curious scheme. A pity, the fates of the Abyss plane and the Sanctuary plane are already sealed. The struggles of the demons and the gods are futile.”

Victor’s expression was a mixture of confusion and tension. He frowned and asked, “Are you saying that a powerful demon sovereign has its sights on me?”

“The Black Stone King perished long ago. Its self-awareness has vanished. Someone used the power of Its laws, but not to harm you. It was to clear the obstacles for your arrival,” the Supreme Elementalist said.

A thought struck Victor, and he pressed on, “Was it the Gods of the Sanctuary who brought me to this world?”

Kognoris did not answer his question directly. He only said, “I can see the world’s past, present, and future, but the Abyss and the Sanctuary lie outside the domain of the Creation Giant Ape. They brought an anomaly like you into this world only to evade the surveillance of the Force of Destiny and achieve their own ulterior motives. However, the Creation Giant Ape has already defeated the Demon Serpent of the Abyss and the Bird of Light. The fate of the Abyss and Sanctuary planes being consumed cannot be changed. The demons and gods have all accepted their destinies, but before they submit to Taelon Ruier’s will, they still think of ending their Nemesis. Heh, my decision to abandon the Art of Void Creation and push forward the god-creating project was also a result of a trick by the demons of the Abyss. That’s why the Gods of the Void were so desperate to destroy the Alchemical Empire. But it doesn’t matter. Their goal was each other, anyway. If the Alchemical Empire is destroyed, so be it.”

Victor wanted to say more, but the Council President of the Alchemical Empire spoke first. “Outsider, some like you, some loathe you, some are indifferent to you, some fear you. All these thoughts are Taelon Ruier’s different attitudes toward you. Overall, the world’s will favors you, even bestowing upon you the power of the Sun God Frey. Have you ever considered the consequences of refusing the world’s will’s invitation? It’s like… if you were to reject Sylvia’s affections, do you think she would still look upon you so fondly?”

From Kognoris’s calm words, Victor felt an unspeakable terror. His spirit condensed into a single point. He raised his head and said evenly, “Annihilation is the end for all things. My end is no exception. I only seek excitement and fun!”

“Excitement and fun… change is what brings fun.” The flowing flames that composed the Spirit Knight danced and soared, and the voice that reached Victor gradually grew quieter until it fell silent. “Excellent, that is what I had hoped for…”

Victor snapped awake to find himself back in reality from the Spirit Knight’s consciousness space. Charlotte was looking at him with concern, her voice soft. “Darling, are you all right? You’re sweating so much…”

The Raging Wind Sword Saint shouldn’t lose control of his body and start sweating. Victor touched his forehead, only to find his palm slick with sweat. He tightened his grip on the alchemist’s memory crystal in his right hand and shook his head. “I’m fine… where’s Beldina?”

“She saw you were motionless and ran out to find me.” Charlotte gently took Victor’s arm, biting her lip, her eyes filled with sorrowful concern. “Are you really okay?”

Victor rallied his spirits and said with a smile, “I’m fine. It was just Poltanos taking over my conscious mind, which temporarily extinguished my fire of the mind. I’m feeling great now. It would be even better if I could take a hot bath.”

Charlotte pushed down her inner anxiety, a smile gracing her lips as she curtsied. “As you wish, my beloved Master.”

Chapter 870: Relocation

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The fortified tower had a pool specifically for bathing, but filling it with hot water would take a very long time. Charlotte simply found an oversized water vat, scrubbed it clean inside and out, and brought it to Victor to use as a bathtub. The slender, graceful female knight lifted the several hundred-pound water vat with one hand and strode lightly through the corridor, leaving the Assyrian servants in the tower dumbfounded, their eyes nearly popping out of their heads.

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Once the sword-wielding handmaiden had filled the vat with heated water, Victor removed his clothes and armor, jumped in, and slid right to the bottom. The warm water enveloped his entire body, and every pore opened in comfort. His smooth skin automatically absorbed the water element; as long as Victor wished it, he could stay underwater indefinitely without suffocating. Even Silver-rank Raging Wave Knights didn’t possess such an ability. Although they could also breathe underwater and ignore the pressure, their Aura would eventually be depleted. Once their Semi-elementalization was canceled, they had to surface for air.

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Victor couldn’t claim to have developed the power of his Sun Elf bloodline to its absolute peak, but he had reached a very high level. Not all High Elves could master an ability like breathing underwater. However, the wind element was sparse in water, so the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s strength was greatly diminished underwater; he probably couldn’t even defeat Sophia or Trisley. Unless absolutely necessary, he preferred to stay on land.

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The side effects of the Soul Lock secret technique were far more intense than those of awakening Poltanos. Soaking in the warm, comfortable water helped the mythical three-headed lizard quickly fall into dormancy, soothing its instinctual agitation and helping Victor recover his reason.

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Victor kept his eyes open at the bottom of the vat, seriously contemplating the important information gained from this special exchange.

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The knowledge jigsaw puzzle currently showed that the struggle between the three Creators—the Demon Serpent of the Abyss, the Bird of Light, and the Creation Giant Ape—ran through the entire history of the three major planes. The Laws of the Taelon World were becoming increasingly perfect, suggesting it had taken the dominant position in the integration of the three planes.

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During the Dark Age, the human ancestors received the torch of civilization from the Elves, thus beginning the prelude to human civilization. They united with the Elves and Barbarians to defeat the once-mighty High Goblin race, then imitated the Elven Empire by building human City-states and occupying vast territories.

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The numerous ancient human City-states were the predecessor of the Alchemical Empire. Faced with the pressure of the second demon invasion, the leaders of the City-states formed a military alliance. The Mages’ Association and what was then the council of alchemists also rose to prominence, forming The Highest Council to lead the City-state military alliance against the invasion of the demonic tide from the Abyss.

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It could be said that the Alchemical Empire was born from the demon war. When the war ended, the political foundation of the Alchemical Empire began to crumble. There were objective reasons for this. For instance, the Alchemical Empire was vast, and the City-states were far apart, making travel inconvenient and the spread of information slow. Each City-state possessed a high degree of independence. More importantly, the Alchemy Towers’ plunder of resources not only met with unanimous opposition from the City-state nobles but also exacerbated the imbalance of interests between City-states. Any City-state with an Alchemy Tower nearby was exploited to the marrow by The Highest Council, while those far from the towers could develop better.

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The Alchemy Towers incited public resentment, and thus the Alchemists lost their foundation to govern.

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The Alchemists and Archmages of The Highest Council were unwilling to see the Alchemical Empire disintegrate. The radical faction, represented by the Secret Order, advocated for continuing the war, while the conservative faction believed they should abandon the Alchemy Towers and redevelop the art of alchemical puppetry. But Council President Kognoris adopted neither the radical nor the conservative opinion. He pushed forward an incredible plan: to imitate the High Goblin Empire and create a True God. By distributing extraordinary power to all strata of the Empire, he hoped to resolve the Alchemical Empire’s internal conflicts.

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From their previous conversation, Victor could tell that the second demonic invasion of the material plane was actually thwarted by the Gods of the Sanctuary. The Alchemists’ Art of Void Creation, and even the undying Soul Fire required by the Alchemy Towers, were provided by the Gods of the Sanctuary. The Gods of the Sanctuary had probably entered the fray personally back then, slaying several demon sovereigns just to gather enough undying Soul Fire for the Alchemists. The Alchemical Empire had driven the demons back to the Abyss with the support of the gods.

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The Gods of the Sanctuary clearly wouldn’t help for free. The Art of Void Creation was a huge trap in itself.

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Kognoris had admitted that his decision to abandon the Alchemy Towers and promote the god-creating plan might have been influenced by the demons of the Abyss. As expected, The Highest Council’s god-creating plan provoked a fierce reaction from the Gods of the Sanctuary, directly leading to the demise of the Alchemical Empire. The Gods of the Sanctuary’s painstaking efforts also ended in failure with the shutdown of the Alchemy Towers.

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It seemed the demons of the Abyss, acting through The Highest Council of the Alchemical Empire, had managed to even the score.

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But the story didn’t end there. The most crucial part was that Kognoris’s god-creating plan did not succeed at the time. It was over ten thousand years after the fall of the Alchemical Empire that the Lord of Radiance was awakened by Inoc of the early Church, due to a Blood Sacrifice War that erupted in the Wizard City-states.

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Victor guessed that The Blood Sacrifice war of the Chosen was a necessary condition for awakening the Lord of Radiance, but this went against the original intention of the Alchemical Empire’s Highest Council. If a large-scale Blood Sacrifice was the only way to complete the god-creating plan, Kognoris wouldn’t have needed to go to so much trouble in the first place. The Highest Council could have just adopted cruel and bloody methods of rule, eliminating dissidents and suppressing rebellions. Why bother creating a god?

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Who exactly awakened the Lord of Radiance?

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This question was of utmost importance!

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Because the third demonic tide was about to erupt. Regardless of whether the Abyss was on the verge of collapse, the demons of the Abyss would have to fight for the right to survive in the prime material plane, and primordial humans would certainly be their primary target.

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On the surface, the Gods of the Sanctuary were very resistant to the Lord of Radiance, and the Blood Sacrifice ritual was more in line with the image of the demons of the Abyss. However, Victor’s Deduction lacked key information, so he couldn’t rashly conclude that the demons had awakened the Lord of Radiance. But if it were true, if the shadow of the demons lurked behind the Lord of Radiance, then the human kingdoms were in for a miserable fate.

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Of course, if the mastermind was the Gods of the Sanctuary, the situation wouldn’t be any better.

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Kognoris, by unleashing the full power of a Spirit Knight, was able to see through the various changes of the future. It was possible that he made a certain decision back then that triggered a butterfly effect, awakening the Lord of Radiance over ten thousand years later and completing the god-creating plan.

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That would be the best outcome.

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Unfortunately, Kognoris did not reveal the key information about the god-creating plan to Victor.

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The immense leap in his level of life had caused the Alchemical Empire’s Council President’s perspective and racial standpoint to shift. The human race, as one of many sentient species, did not represent the complete will of the Creator Taelon Ruier. Compared to the fate of primordial humans, the Spirit Knight Kognoris was more concerned with Victor, this outsider.

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She was curious how many chaotic futures Victor’s choices would cause to collapse into fragments of spacetime. After Victor declared that he would not yield to the arrangements of fate, She got the answer She wanted and terminated their conversation.

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Kognoris had used Victor and Sylvia’s romance as an analogy to warn Victor to be careful of the backlash from the Force of Destiny. It was as if a great lord pursued a beautiful noblewoman, showering her with precious resources like gold, silver, jewels, land, titles, potions, and secret arts. In the end, however, she refused to marry the great lord. In that case, the great lord would not only take back all his investments but also resort to forceful means, teaching the ungrateful noblewoman a profound lesson before taking her for his own.

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Victor knew he was an outsider, but he couldn’t figure out how he was resisting integration with the Taelon World.

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Was it merely because he was unwilling to transform into a Sun Elf?

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Throughout history, there had been more than one Spirit Knight, and more than one Sun Elf. Most of the time, the Elven Empire had no Sun Elf to protect it, yet the Elves had not perished.

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Did one really have to give up one’s human identity to conform to the Creator’s will?

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If necessary, Victor wasn’t actually opposed to fate’s gift. After all, there were the precedents of the Sword Saint Draven and Verodica. Even if he transformed into a Sun Elf, Sylvia could help him resist the soul pollution from the Sun Tree, allowing him to retain his self-awareness for a long time.

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However, if he advanced his Sun Elf bloodline now, The Path of the Mind’s Dominator would be cut off. Victor would not take that step unless he had no other choice.

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Besides the position of the Sun Elf, Victor couldn’t think of any other issues with himself for the time being.

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The warm water in the vat suddenly rippled. It was the Dragonkin handmaiden Mewen using her Nemesis talent to send Victor a message. Because the wind element was obstructed by the water, it couldn’t form a clear sound.

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An idea sparked in Victor’s mind. He connected with the minds of the Dragonoid Rippers, learned of the situation Mewen was reporting, and then instructed her to come and meet him in the Assyrian capital city.

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Victor was temporarily stumped by the problem of fate’s backlash, so he decided to deal with the matter at hand first.

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Victor stood up, and the water droplets seemed to come to life, bouncing off his hair and skin. By the time he stepped out of the large tub, his entire body was dry. He called Charlotte in and ordered, “Inform Harenadak and Tumen to come to the fortified tower before the sun sets today. I have important matters to discuss with them.”

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At dusk, the two Legendary Shamans arrived at the fortified tower together. When they saw the radiantly beautiful Beldina kneeling obediently beside the human Demigod, complex expressions couldn’t help but surface on their faces.

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The Little Queen had “devoured” the Realm of All Spirits, causing the spirits of the Assyrians to lose their final home, but she had also brought the Assyrians a new power—Nature Spirits and Animal Spirits.

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Harenadak and Tumen were able to maintain their Legendary-rank casting abilities because they had promptly converted to using Nature Spirit quasi-spells. However, the other few hundred Ancestral Spirit Shamans were not so lucky. Beldina’s domain of nature became ineffective with the destruction of the Realm of All Spirits. If the Ancestral Spirit Shamans wanted to master Nature Spirit or Animal Spirit quasi-spells, they could only rely on themselves, accumulating power bit by bit.

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They knew they shouldn’t blame Beldina for the destruction of the Realm of All Spirits; it was all their own doing. But the Ancestral Spirit Shamans were not resigned to this. Harenadak and Tumen had been busy dealing with differing opinions these past few days and were already mentally and physically exhausted. Yet, even now, the shamans had not reached a consensus.

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Victor understood what Harenadak, the Queen, and Tumen were feeling perfectly. He smiled slightly, raised a hand, and said, “Please, sit.”

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Harenadak knelt, sitting on her calves, while Tumen sat cross-legged. Victor nodded. “I am truly gratified that you two Great Shamans are willing to see me. At least you didn’t bring an army to force me to hand over Beldina.”

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Harenadak let out a long sigh and slowly shook her head. “With the power of the holy Randell, if you wanted to kill us, it would be useless even if we were surrounded by Assyrian Warriors.”

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The image of the human Demigod summoning a Hand of the Storm and tearing apart the Black Blood Sovereign made it impossible for the Shamaness to entertain any thoughts of resisting Victor. In truth, without the enhancement of the Moon Goddess’s sacred object, Victor wasn’t that powerful. However, with the Wings of the Wind Sprite and his Nemesis talent, killing two Assyrian Great Shamans within a twenty-three-kilometer radius was hardly more difficult for him than doing it face-to-face.

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Victor raised an eyebrow. “Chief Priestess, you are very wise.” As he spoke, he glanced at Great Shaman Tumen before continuing, “Unfortunately, not everyone will believe you unconditionally. Only blood and death can make the reckless see reality.”

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A chill suddenly ran down Tumen’s spine. He quickly bowed his head and said, “Great and holy Demigod, I am not a reckless or foolish man. I dared to come see you mainly because I trust that Queen Bel will not harm me.”

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Bel’s face instantly lit up with a smile, which she quickly replaced with a feigned expression of authority. She said in a crisp voice, “Hmph, Tutor Tumen is a good Assyrian.”

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“Whether he’s a good Assyrian or not, I don’t know, nor do I care.” Victor patted Bel’s head dotingly and turned to Tumen. “But you are honest, and I like talking to honest people. Speak. What are your plans?”

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Tumen first glanced at Harenadak, but the Chief Priestess completely ignored him, offering no visual cues. He had no choice but to bite the bullet and say, “The shamans and Warriors outside are in a state of great debate. We need Queen Bel to come forward and take charge of the bigger picture.”

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“Okay, okay, I’ll go, I’ll go,” Beldina said, hopping with excitement.

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“Don’t be ridiculous.” Victor placed his hand on Bel’s head, pressing her back down, and turned to Tumen. “The Realm of All Spirits is gone, the Chief Priestess has lost her authority, and you’ve turned the old King Mokemo into an undead puppet. The system of the Assyrian Empire has already collapsed. Beldina showing up won’t solve these systemic problems. I am well aware of this. Just tell me, what do the Assyrian Nobles outside want most?”

“

Tumen fell silent for a moment before clenching his teeth and saying, “Beldina is the Assyrian Queen we all chose together. If she doesn’t appear, the situation outside will descend into chaos. The Ancestral Spirit Shamans have lost most of their Ancestral Spirit quasi-spells, but they can still use sigil-incantations to control puppet Giants. Great Sage, you may not know this, but many Ancestral Spirit Shamans are taking advantage of the cracks that have appeared in the secret realm to venture into the outside world and capture Slime Behemoths. Some haven’t returned, but others have brought back several, even a dozen, Slime Behemoths. This is a very powerful force. If the Queen doesn’t take action soon, I fear something terrible will happen.”

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The Pale Sovereign was well and truly dead, but the Lord of Despair, composed of several thousand ooze monsters, could still exist for some time. These Undead Creatures were all at the Bronze-rank, and among them were even Gold-rank and Silver-rank ooze monsters. Combined with the undead puppets the Ancestral Spirit Shamans had created during this time, they certainly constituted a powerful force.

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Before disaster struck, it was perfectly reasonable for the Ancestral Spirit Shamans to do everything they could to accumulate power and increase their chances of survival. Tumen’s words carried an implicit threat, but Victor paid it no mind. He said calmly, “I intend to take Beldina with me. Even The Undying One can’t stop me, let alone you all… I’m very curious. You want Bel to stay. And then what?”

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Tumen sullenly emphasized, “Their ideas are different from mine. I only hope that the Queen can lead our people to migrate elsewhere, and then find a way to restore the domain of nature and transform the Ancestral Spirit Shamans into Nature or Animal Spirit Shamans.”

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Victor said nothing, merely raising an eyebrow as his strange, dark gold eyes turned to the Shamaness Queen kneeling on the mat.

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Harenadak bowed low, touching her forehead to her hands, and said respectfully, “Great Sage, I have not yet made up my mind. I only pray that you will show me and my people a path.”

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The two Great Shamans echoed each other, both pleading for Bel to continue as their Assyrian Queen while also leaving themselves room to maneuver with the Raging Wind Sword Saint. But how could such a petty trick sway the will of the Gold-Eyed Earl?

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A scornful arc lifted the corner of Victor’s mouth. He said leisurely, “It seems most of the Ancestral Spirit Shamans haven’t given up on the Realm of All Spirits… Do they have a way to restore it?”

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Harenadak and Tumen were speechless. They had no plan to restore the Realm of All Spirits, but they still harbored the thought of trying. The other Ancestral Spirit Shamans were even more set on it. The Little Queen, who had absorbed a portion of the spirit essence, was surely the key to restoring the Realm of All Spirits. Even if the shamans’ opinions were not unified, their attitude about keeping Bel was basically unanimous. The Ancestral Spirit Shamans, being the most numerous, especially wanted to try and use Bel to restore the Realm of All Spirits; whether Beldina lived or died was less important to them.

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Of course, the human Demigod would never agree to that. This was precisely the point of conflict between the two sides.

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Victor sneered and said bluntly, “How would you restore the Realm of All Spirits? By sacrificing Beldina? To whom? It could only be the founder of the Assyrian Empire, the first Queen Angelina, who is now the spirit thief, The Undying One, the sovereign of the ant swarms! Only She knows how to restore the Realm of All Spirits.”

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Beldina was startled. She raised her pretty little eyebrows and cried out angrily, “Which bad guys want to sacrifice me? I’ll have Aka spank their butts until they’re sore!”

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Harenadak gave Bel a deep look and said seriously, “I will never allow them to harm Bel. Never!”

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Victor nodded and said with appreciation, “Not completely stupid yet… Although your previous action, using Beldina to tear apart the Realm of All Spirits, was meaningless for you, for The Undying One, it was just the opposite. Since tearing the Realm of All Spirits was The Undying One’s scheme, why would She help the Assyrians restore it?”

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“Angelina was once the Queen of the Assyrian Empire, but that was over twenty thousand years ago… Now, She has long since transformed into The Undying One, the spirit thief. From that moment on, the Assyrians became Her inexhaustible livestock.” Victor smiled faintly and continued, “I am not insulting the Assyrian descendants; what I’m saying is the truth as I’ve seen it… Over fifteen hundred years ago, the Assyrian Empire fell apart due to the disaster caused by the Black Blood Sovereign. How many Assyrian subjects fled to seek refuge then? You hold ‘Angelina’s Sorrow’ and can be considered descendants of the Assyrian Empire. But if we’re counting numbers, the Assyrian subjects who fled outside the secret realm far outnumber you Imperial descendants.”

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“I discovered many tribes of Assyrian savages outside the secret realm. Their lines of succession are broken, their power is weak, and their people are scattered throughout the vast and perilous Endless Forest. Without the secret protection of the ant swarms, how could they have survived until now? These Assyrian savages are the livestock raised by The Undying One!”

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Harenadak’s face drained of all color, and Great Shaman Tumen was also dumbfounded.

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Victor continued to press his advantage. “The Undying One is indeed trapped on Spirit-Devouring Island right now, but don’t forget, this was premeditated. The awakened will of the Realm of All Spirits was The Undying One’s natural enemy. Only by destroying the Realm of All Spirits and preventing the will of the All Spirits from reawakening could The Undying One continue to live. And obviously, The Undying One has succeeded, with your help. The problem is, if Angelina needs to rebuild the Realm of All Spirits and revive the Assyrian Empire, will She choose you, the Assyrian descendants who are hostile to Her, as the subjects of the new empire, or those ignorant and unwitting Assyrian savages outside the secret realm?”

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Victor sighed, took out “Angelina’s Sorrow” from his robes, and dangled it by its chain, letting the Elemental Rune Crystal swing naturally. He said, “The Undying One’s Ant-man army has already occupied the ruins of Asoerta Temple. that was the coordinate connecting to the outer ring of the Realm of All Spirits. The Assyrian Empire used to hold its Blood Sacrifice rituals at the temple. But the outer ring of the Realm of All Spirits has been shattered, and the Spirit-Devourer Iron Bridge has been destroyed. The temple coordinate is now useless. The key is this divine artifact, ‘Angelina’s Sorrow’. With the temple coordinate invalid, it can only be connected to The Undying One’s Spirit-Devouring Island.”

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“If I’m not mistaken, if The Undying One wants to rebuild the Realm of All Spirits, She will need to use Assyrians for a Blood Sacrifice, and also this.” Victor closed his hand around the Elemental Rune Crystal. “The Undying One only wants two things: Beldina and the divine artifact ‘Angelina’s Tear’. It doesn’t matter if She doesn’t get Beldina, but without the divine artifact, She will die, because Spirit-Devouring Island requires Blood Sacrifices to be sustained.”

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“So here’s the question: when the secret realm completely fails, do you think it’s possible The Undying One will come here to slaughter the Assyrians?” Victor asked, his gaze burning.

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The Ant-man Empress had raised a large number of Assyrian savages outside the secret realm; She didn’t need to care about the Assyrian descendants hidden within it. As for whether She would massacre everyone in the secret realm and use the Assyrian descendants as sacrificial offerings, that depended on the human Demigod’s attitude. Unless the Assyrian Shamans could snatch “Angelina’s Sorrow” back from the human Demigod’s hands, the Assyrian descendants had no choice in the matter.

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The human Demigod’s threat was almost blatant, yet Harenadak and Tumen were powerless against him. But thinking it over, Harenadak discovered with despair that even if Victor returned the divine artifact to them, the Assyrian descendants still couldn’t escape The Undying One’s grasp.

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The reason was simple. “Angelina’s Sorrow” could not be turned on or off. Within its domain, the death of any Assyrian would complete a soul sacrifice. Even holding this divine artifact, the Assyrian Shamans had no grounds to negotiate with the first Queen of their Empire, Angelina.

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If the divine artifact was in the hands of the human Demigod, as long as The Undying One’s Ant-man claws couldn’t catch up to him, he would have the right to negotiate with The Undying One.

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“It seems you’ve both figured it out. If you take Beldina, The Undying One will hunt you down. If you take ‘Angelina’s Sorrow’, She will hunt you down even more fiercely,” Victor said with a smile.

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Great Shaman Tumen prostrated himself on the mat like a toad and said submissively, “Great Sage, I am willing to offer you my humble spirit and beg you to find a path of survival for my people.”

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In reality, the Ant-man Empress wouldn’t necessarily slaughter the descendants of the Assyrian Empire. From the bigger picture, the Ant-man Empress and the Assyrians not only lacked irreconcilable conflicts but actually had a relationship of mutual dependence. If Victor were the Ant-man Empress, he would seize the opportunity to coerce and enslave the hundreds of thousands of Assyrian descendants. Not only did these Assyrians have a line of succession, but they had also universally partaken of the Fountain of Youth, making them more valuable than the savages outside the secret realm. Incorporating the descendants of the Assyrian Empire, using the savage tribes outside as slave sacrifices, and forming a powerful mixed army of Assyrians and Ant-men to press upon the human kingdoms—that would be in the Ant-man Empress’s best interest.

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For the descendants of the Assyrian Empire, however, as long as there was a possibility of being slaughtered by the Ant-man Empress, they dared not take the risk, nor could they sit by and wait for death. The secret realm established by the Assyrian Wizard King had protected them for over fifteen hundred years, but it had also isolated them for over fifteen hundred years. Victor was using this information asymmetry to his advantage, using a mix of bluffs and tricks to manipulate the two most authoritative Assyrian leaders.

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Of course, Victor had no intention of taking this group of Assyrian descendants as his allies. Harenadak and Tumen had Legendary-rank Spirit attributes, after all; they were by no means fools. Despite their current submissive posture, if Victor’s proposal did not align with the interests of the Assyrian people, or if he tried to use them as cannon fodder, the Shamaness Queen and Great Shaman Tumen would turn on a dime and start having other ideas.

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On the other hand, even the Spirit Knight Kognoris of the Alchemical Empire had been outmaneuvered by the demons of the Abyss. It was inevitable that the shadow of the demons or the Gods of the Sanctuary lurked behind the Ant-man Empress. From this, one could deduce that the Assyrians were not clean either; they might very well be pawns placed in advance by some extraordinary being. Now that even the Lord of Radiance was questionable, how could Victor dare bring the Assyrians, with their mysterious origins, near the human kingdoms?

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He faintly sensed that the Ant-man Empress was attempting to return to the human kingdoms and was targeting the Radiant Church. This clue was problematic.

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The Assyrians, this hot potato, had to be passed to the Elven Empire to be safe.

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Tumen and Harenadak had already shown their intention to lead their people to seek refuge with human forces and accept human protection. But Victor could not possibly agree.

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“Beldina has asked me to protect you.” Victor stood up and said with his hands behind his back, “For her sake, I can stay in the city’s temple to attract The Undying One’s attention. When the secret realm completely fails, you will take a portion of your people and migrate far away. Those Assyrian descendants who insist on staying will die in this city.”

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If the human Demigod didn’t hand over “Angelina’s Sorrow” to the Ant-man Empress, the ant swarm army would enter the Assyrian capital city and kill any Assyrian on sight. Within the artifact’s domain, the more Assyrians the Ant-men killed, the longer The Undying One would live. Conversely, the Assyrians who fled the artifact’s domain would encounter less resistance.

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Harenadak’s forehead was pressed against the back of her hand, her head bowed as low as it could go. Her voice was mournful as she said, “Great Sage, the Assyrian bloodline itself will attract The Undying One. Even if Bel and the divine artifact are not with us, we will become The Undying One’s prey… Where should we migrate to escape The Undying One’s pursuit? I implore you, Sage, for the sake of the shared origin of Assyrians and the Rare People, to grant us a piece of land where we can survive.”

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Victor feigned surprise. “It’s true that humans and Assyrians share a common origin, but didn’t you know that the Assyrians were actually created by the Elven Empire?”

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“Elves?”

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Harenadak raised her eyes and looked at Great Shaman Tumen, only to find him looking just as bewildered.

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Unable to sit still any longer, Queen Bel jumped up, pointed to her own ears, then to Victor’s, and showed off, “Elves are people with pointed ears. They are very beautiful, but not as beautiful as Master and me.”

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A thought stirred in Tumen’s mind. He summoned a Flower Fey with pointed ears, a delicate face, and a pair of honeybee wings on its back.

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Victor couldn’t see the tiny Nature Spirit, but Beldina clapped her hands and laughed, “Yes, yes, yes, Flower Fey are like elves! Tiantian told me. He and Bobo can see Flower Fey too… Oh, Bobo and Tiantian are Halfling shorties. They are vassals of the Elves.”

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His Highness Randell coughed lightly and, meeting the expectant gaze of the Shamaness Queen, said, “I have some connection with the Elves, but I am human, not an elf… This time, the Elven Empire also sent a prince and a Shaman of the Moon Goddess to participate in the battle at Asoerta Temple, joining me against the Black Blood Sovereign. The fact that they could find the temple of the Assyrian Empire speaks volumes. From what I understand, the Elven Empire and the Assyrian Empire have a deep relationship. Your Spider Totem is actually the holy symbol of the Elven Ancestor God, the Spider Lady. Also, the Elves’ Moon Dew has effects similar to your Fountain of Youth. The Assyrians should be a vassal race of the Elven Empire.”

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“The Elven Empire is located in the Endless Forest, east of the Asoerta Mountains. They are extremely powerful, and the ant swarms have never dared to invade their territory. If you can escape into the Elven Empire’s domain, even if you find a nearby forest to rebuild your home, the ant monsters will no longer pursue you.”

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Tumen asked cautiously, “Great Sage, can you send someone to take us to the Elven Empire? I worry that the Elves will refuse to accept us.”

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“Neither I nor my subordinates have ever been to the Elven Empire; we don’t know the way.” Victor shook his head, then changed the subject. “However, I happen to have a Dwarf friend from the Elven Empire. If you protect him on his way home, he can lead the way for you and introduce you to a Shaman of the Moon Goddess in an Elven City-state.”

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“Mewen, bring Coelho here,” Victor suddenly called out.

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Before long, Mewen, the Dragonoid Ripper with two horns on her head and blue hair and eyes, walked into Victor’s room. Trailing behind her was a scruffy-looking Dwarf guard.

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The moment this Dwarf, who was built like a barrel with a long beard and a fleshy nose, saw Victor, he waved his stout arms and bellowed in a booming voice, “By the moon above and the hills below… Lord Nightingale, I’ve finally found you! Your Dragonkin handmaiden dragged me out of a savage’s hut and carried me for half a day! My poor beard was nearly blown off by the wind!”

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Chapter 871: The Ant-man Empress’s Show of Force

“Oh, I know him! I know him! He’s the big shorty who had grass growing on him in the cave.”

Beldina hopped up and down, tugging on Victor’s arm with one little hand and pointing with the other at the Dwarf who had just entered the room. “We saved him!” she exclaimed excitedly.

The Dwarf guard was stocky and stout, much larger than a Halfling. Beldina was used to calling Halflings “shorties,” so this broad-shouldered, thick-waisted Dwarf with a beard that reached his chest was a “big shorty.”

Back then, when Coelho had taken the Assyrian Shaman’s funerary artifact from the tomb’s altar, his soul had become trapped in the Realm of All Spirits, and he had fallen unconscious. The Silverhawk City scout squad couldn’t wake him, so they could only bury him in a crevice on the mountain wall with Moonlight Thorns. Later, Victor instructed Father Dayn to find Coelho and cast a Holy Light beacon on him. Father Miller then casually rescued Coelho’s soul, finally freeing him from the shackles of the Realm of All Spirits and saving his life.

Beldina’s claim that she had saved Coelho was not wrong. But it was indeed the first time the Dwarf guard from Silverhawk City had ever met Bel.

When Coelho saw Beldina’s slightly pointed ears, his eyes widened. He let out a stream of Elvish, asking Victor if the little girl was a Wanderer from his own people.

The Silverhawk scouts had returned home months ago, but they had left Coelho all alone in the forest near the Asoerta Mountains. If not for Victor’s intervention, Coelho would have ended up in a wolf’s belly. The poor Dwarf guard still believed that Mr. Nightingale was a Greater Elf with defective ears. Having spent all this time with the Assyrian savages, he felt an instant kinship upon suddenly meeting another young Elvish Wanderer.

Dwarves were mostly enthusiastic chatterboxes, and Beldina was naturally lively and a curious child. They both tried to greet each other, but unfortunately, they couldn’t understand a word the other was saying. After a long time of babbling back and forth, they were like a chicken talking to a duck.

Victor couldn’t be bothered to translate their meaningless nonsense. Bel puffed up her cheeks, turned to Harenadak, and said in the Assyrian language, “Harenadak, this big shorty needs to drink a pot of ‘language water’.”

“‘Language water’… What’s that?” Victor asked, a little curious.

Harenadak hesitated for a moment before explaining vaguely, “It’s a special kind of spirit essence. It’s like water. After you drink it, you can speak fluent Assyrian.”

Unsatisfied with this answer, Victor narrowed his eyes, putting a little pressure on the two Great Shamans as he pressed, “Please be more specific.”

The Shamaness Queen and Tumen both looked a bit unnatural. The latter mused, “When Beldina first came to the secret realm, she couldn’t speak Assyrian. We used an Ancestral Spirit quasi-spell to draw spirit essence from an old man and made it into ‘language water’ for her to drink. After she slept, she was able to speak Assyrian.”

Seeing Beldina’s eyes widen and her little mouth turn down, on the verge of tears, the old Shaman, who had regained his youthful appearance, quickly added, “Your Majesty, I assure you, the Assyrian who provided the spirit essence died a natural death. We absolutely did not use a Blood Sacrifice to make the ‘language water’…’ Er, it has no effect on you. It’s like the spirit of an old Assyrian teaching you the language, just through a rather special method.”

After hearing Tumen’s explanation, Bel thought about it and felt less repulsed. She put on her Little Queen airs and ordered, “Are there any old Assyrians about to die? When he dies, have his spirit teach the big shorty how to talk.”

Harenadak first smiled, then shook her head and sighed, “Bel, the Ancestral Spirit Shamans no longer have this ability.”

The Assyrian Shamans’ Spirit Sight Art often solved problems in unbelievable, sometimes even bizarre and horrifying, ways. To communicate with Beldina without any barriers, they had given her a cup of “language water,” and she had automatically mastered the Assyrian language. But that “language water” was a liquid spirit essence made by an Ancestral Spirit Shaman extracting an Assyrian’s soul. The Assyrian Shamans simply didn’t care about the principles behind it; they had merely given it a vivid and descriptive name based on the phenomenon.

However, in Victor’s view, this revealed a great deal of valuable information.

The essence of “language water” was the language-related aspect of the Will Side of an Assyrian soul. The liquid form was the manifestation of this part of the Will Side in reality, and the act of “drinking” the liquid implied the spell’s target actively accepted this linguistic information, thereby mastering the Assyrian language.

There was a clear element of deception involved, as drinking water is an ordinary act that would generally not be resisted by the target. If Beldina had been unwilling to drink the “language water” at the time and failed to learn Assyrian, the Ancestral Spirit Shaman would not have been able to complete the final step, and the spell would have failed. It was as if Bel had a deep-seated resistance to learning the language; she would have been unable to learn Assyrian no matter what.

The target’s willingness to accept the spell was the key to its success.

On the other hand, the Assyrian spirit was special. Assyrian Shamans could only extract spirit essence from Assyrians; it was ineffective on other creatures. That was why Beldina had magically learned Assyrian after drinking the “language water,” while the Assyrian Shamans couldn’t use the same method to learn the Common Tongue or Elvish.

With the destruction of the Realm of All Spirits, the Ancestral Spirit Shamans had lost most of their extraordinary abilities. Beldina, however, had no such obstacles; she had absorbed a considerable amount of spirit essence. Logically, Beldina should be able to cast the Ancestral Spirit Shamans’ quasi-spells, but Father Miller had cast Holy Chains on her years ago. Now, the Holy Chains restricted Beldina’s spellcasting abilities.

Victor pondered for a moment and decided to use the lone Dwarf guard to test his theory. He said to Bel, “You can try using Touch of Chaos. Wish that you can talk with Coelho.”

“Okay, okay,” Beldina’s eyes lit up, and she said cheerfully.

Victor then said to the Dwarf, “Coelho, Beldina is about to cast a spell on you to help you two communicate. Don’t resist. It shouldn’t hurt. Just accept it.”

Before the Dwarf could agree, Beldina had already reached out to tug on his braided beard, asking with a face full of amazement and confusion, “Master, why does the big shorty’s hair grow on his chin?”

Had it been anyone else ravishing his most beloved beard, Coelho would have flown into a rage. But facing Beldina, he simply couldn’t get angry. He just grumbled unhappily, “This is a beard, not hair. Young lady, a Dwarf’s beard is more precious than Adamantine. Don’t you mess it up for me… Hey, Lord Nightingale, I can understand what she’s saying! What a magical Dwarf beard…”

The Dwarf guard was exceptionally excited, shouting loudly in Elvish, but he had indeed understood the Assyrian Beldina had spoken.

A strange light flashed in the eyes of Harenadak and Tumen. They knew it would normally take the Dwarf more than ten days to be able to speak Assyrian. Beldina’s Touch of Chaos had produced the effect of “language water,” and it was instantaneous. The two Legendary Shamans couldn’t help but have different ideas about Beldina and the Realm of All Spirits.

Victor placed a hand on Bel’s shoulder and said faintly, “I’m taking Beldina to train. You two also have many things to do. Let’s call it a day.”

The Shamaness Queen watched the human Demigod leave with the Little Queen. She exchanged a glance with Tumen, seeing the helplessness in each other’s eyes. They both knew that Bel was now one of The Undying One’s targets. Even if His Highness Randell allowed Beldina to stay with the Assyrians, they couldn’t take her with them on their journey; it would attract a large number of Ant-man monsters to pursue their migrating caravan.

In fact, unless Beldina could rebuild the Realm of All Spirits, no Assyrian noble would be willing to treat her as the Empress of the Empire. And even if the Realm of All Spirits could truly be restored, the descendants of the Assyrian Empire had to survive first.

At this thought, Harenadak and Tumen turned their gazes to the Dwarf. This man was currently the Assyrian descendants’ best hope of escaping The Undying One’s grasp. They both wanted to learn more about the Elven Empire from him.

Coelho looked at the two Assyrian Shamans, somewhat bewildered. He suddenly shivered, clutched the beard on his chest, and yelled, “What do you want? Don’t even think about my beard! Hey… Lord Nightingale, I’m coming with you…”

The night wind blew into the Main Chamber at the very top of the pyramid temple, carrying with it a hint of blood and faint, miserable wails.

Just as Victor had said, Harenadak and the Great Shaman Tumen now had many things to do. The first was to unify their internal factions.

Although the Assyrian Shamans and Warrior Nobles had reached a consensus on a mass migration months ago and had made thorough preparations in advance, the situation had since changed. Especially since Beldina had lost her right to ascend the throne and be crowned, divisions had appeared among the Assyrian Shamans. In such circumstances, an internal purge was essential.

That very night, the two Legendary Shamans, Harenadak and Tumen, acted together. Indiscriminately, they killed more than thirty Ancestral Spirit Shamans. These individuals all shared one characteristic: they controlled more than five Undead Behemoths each and refused to hand them over to Harenadak for redistribution.

Although the Ancestral Spirit Shamans had lost most of their quasi-spells, the power of their undead puppets and Slime Behemoths was still not to be underestimated. Victor had not originally wanted to get involved in the Assyrians’ internal strife, but considering the limitations of Nature Spirit quasi-spells and to ensure the elite core of the Assyrian descendants could retreat to the Elven Empire, he still ordered his Dragonkin handmaiden, Mewen, to help Harenadak deal with the disobedient Assyrian Shamans.

With the assistance of the Dragonoid Ripper, the bloody purge went exceptionally smoothly. Harenadak managed to clear the obstacles to the great migration in a single night, and the number of casualties was kept to a minimum.

Next, Harenadak and Tumen distributed the more than one thousand undead puppets and ooze monsters among the remaining Ancestral Spirit Shamans. Each Shaman received at least two undead puppets as their personal extraordinary force.

Through this cruel, bloody purge and the redistribution of the undead puppets, the Shamaness Queen re-established her authority as leader, successfully resolving the Assyrians’ internal divisions.

The Assyrian capital city began to operate at high speed, making final preparations for the upcoming great migration. During this period, Harenadak and Tumen would often come to the temple, but not to find Beldina.

The migration of hundreds of thousands of people was no small matter. Neither Harenadak nor Tumen had any practical experience, and they lacked sufficient knowledge of the forest environment outside the secret realm. The Randell Expeditionary Force provided precious maps, and Charlotte and Father Dayn, on Victor’s orders, brought their family knights to advise the Great Shamans and offer feasible suggestions.

Victor, meanwhile, focused on training Beldina, striving to maximize the little Shamaness’s real combat abilities in a short period. His test subjects were six Slime Behemoths he had specifically requested from Harenadak. These Undead Creatures were all Silver-rank, and one among them was even a Gold-rank Slime Behemoth.

And so, by the end of the second month of the Season of Fire, more than two hundred thousand Assyrian descendants had evacuated the capital city in batches, assembling at the edge of the Assyrian secret realm. As soon as the secret realm completely failed, they would split into dozens of groups and head east through the Endless Forest, cross the Asoerta Mountains, and travel towards Silverhawk City in the Elven Empire to establish a new home.

As the preparations for the great migration neared their end, the capital city of the Assyrian descendants finally received the claws of the Ant-man Empress.

Over a hundred high-ranking ant-men stormed into the deserted jungle city. Under the cold gaze of the Assyrian army, they nonchalantly strode straight towards the pyramid temple standing in the city’s center. Leading them was an enormous high-ranking ant-man. Its entire body was encased in a thick, white carapace, its chest bearing three pairs of purple markings. Its strapping physique, comparable to a Giant Rhinoceros Beast, exuded a powerful, almost tangible force that brought an intense sense of oppression to the onlookers.

The high-ranking guard ants behind their leader dragged a large wooden frame bound with vines and wood. On it lay a strange, dying insectoid creature. It had four pairs of jointed limbs and was even larger than the leader. Its silver-white carapace was covered in strange purple patterns. Its six Compound eyes saw Victor at the top of the temple, and it struggled to lift its head, as if trying to make a formal greeting, but its strength was failing. After struggling twice, it was unable to rise and collapsed back onto the large wooden frame.

If not for its bloated abdomen, which was still rising and falling, the former high-ranking ant-man Ann, now the Broodmother she had become, would have looked dead.

“That monster, it was actually defeated by the Ant-men… Could it be that it’s really not an Ant-man?” the Great Shaman Tumen muttered, standing on the high platform of the temple.

Most of the Assyrian descendants were seeing living Ant-men for the first time, and Harenadak was no exception. She first glanced at Tumen, then at the calm human Demigod out of the corner of her eye, wondering if the thousand-plus Assyrian warriors and over three hundred undead puppets could kill all the Ant-men below.

However, His Highness Randell had demanded she let The Undying One’s claws into the city, so he naturally had his reasons. Harenadak and Tumen also wanted to see what the legendary Undying One was really like.

Victor’s gaze swept over Ann, then shifted to the high-ranking ant-man leader. He looked down and said, “War Ant King?”

The wind carried the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s voice, as if whispering right in the War Ant King’s ear.

The high-ranking ant-man, as large as a giant rhino, stopped and raised its head. Its orange-yellow eyes stared at Victor as it spoke in a deep voice, “I am the servant of the Sovereign of the Swarm, War Ant King Taorminos. It took me a little time to deal with the traitor Ann, otherwise we would have met sooner.”

“Taorminos.”

Victor nodded and said slowly in the ancient common tongue, “Are you here to die?”

An invisible force field dispersed the wind element trying to breach its carapace. The War Ant King said disdainfully, “I’m not like Apollis, that underdeveloped piece of trash Ant King… If the sovereign didn’t forbid the swarm from actively attacking humans, I would quite like to test my strength against His Highness Randell.”

His elemental perception had failed, but hearing constituted a large part of Victor’s perception. He could even hear a mouse digging a hole two thousand meters away. An ordinary person would be completely unable to process such complex and varied sound signals. Only the Raging Wind Sword Saint, with a Spirit attribute as high as forty-eight, could perfectly integrate auditory and visual signals, thus possessing a perceptual ability beyond the reach of ordinary people.

Under Victor’s all-encompassing, seamless perception, the physical details of this new War Ant King appeared in his mind.

Victor estimated Taorminos’s weight to be over five tons, classifying it as a large monster. The high-ranking ant-men were known for their strength; Taorminos’s power could crush Victor’s Body of Bedrock. The thick, metallic-sheened carapace granted it formidable defense and extremely high Elemental Resistance. The Raging Wind Sword Saint’s Nemesis talent would likely be ineffective against it.

Taorminos’s body was immense, but anyone who thought it wasn’t agile would be gravely mistaken. The footprints it left were very shallow, a result of its psionic force field, similar to the effect of Wind Walk. Its instantaneous Burst speed could catch a Gale Knight off guard. If someone like Narsen or Caligula were targeted by Taorminos, their chances of survival would be minuscule.

Taorminos was a legendary creature possessing super strength, super defense, super physique, and psionic power. Victor had no doubt that this War Ant King could breach a Viscount’s castle on its own.

Of course, with the two extraordinary weapons “Soul Rend” and “Umbra” in hand, killing Taorminos would be no difficult feat for Victor.

Although the War Ant King’s level of life was no less than that of a legendary creature like a Manticore, the Ant-men lacked a danger sense. Facing the Raging Wind Sword Saint, Taorminos was doomed to die, without even a chance to escape. In contrast, a Manticore would have at least a fifty percent chance of escaping from the Raging Wind Sword Saint.

As the Legendary Sacred Warrior Tournans had once said, only those who can survive can be called strong.

Avoiding an unbeatable enemy in advance was also a display of strength. In a head-on confrontation, Narsen was certainly no match for Taorminos, but the Ferocious warrior’s danger sense would help him evade the War Ant King beforehand. This would grant him the absolute initiative. By then fully utilizing the trade-off between time and space, the risk he would face would be great, but so would his possibility of killing the War Ant King.

In reality, the War Ant King did not need a danger sense. As the top-tier combat unit of the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower, the Ant-man Empress was having it appear before Victor as a show of force.

You used some petty tricks on Ann, but I can create Tier 7 creatures, and I’m not afraid to sacrifice them. Are you prepared to be my enemy, or will you choose to cooperate with me?

This was a secret psychological war that only an Alchemy Tower Master could understand. Victor’s strongest alchemical units were the Dragonkin, who were Tier 5 combat units and could temporarily reach Tier 6 when transformed. Whether in terms of top-tier combat power or the overall number of alchemical units, Alchemy Tower Number Seven was far too inferior to the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower.

Faced with the Ant-man Empress’s demonstration and warning, Victor’s long, straight eyebrows furrowed. His gaze swept over Caligula, Narsen, Imosen the Wizard, and Father Dayn, finally landing on Beldina. His brows relaxed, and he smiled faintly. “Bel…”

“Ah? Master, you called me? What is it?” Beldina turned her beautiful, delicate face and asked, blinking.

Victor jutted his chin towards Taorminos’s position and said, “That War Ant King below just provoked me. Use your new pet to teach it a lesson.”

Hearing her Master’s request, Beldina was overjoyed. She stood up, stretched out a small, fair, and tender hand, and slapped it on a three-meter-tall Slime Behemoth beside her. She called out in a sweet voice, “Touch of Chaos—Raging Puppet, go! Let the big bug feel Beldina’s wrath!”

Chapter 872: His Highness Randall’s Lesson

May to August is the hottest time of the year. The Elven Empire calls these four months summer, while the Knight-Nobles of the human kingdoms, following the patterns of void element activity, call it the Season of Fire. But in the Assyrian Empire, the four months of summer have another name—the Season of Fury.

Plague, Fury, Disaster, and Withering represent the four cyclical stages of the spirit, corresponding to the four seasons. Each stage possesses a unique power, and the Assyrians developed a complete system of Ancestral Spirit quasi-spells based on this foundation.

The Nature Spirit and Animal Spirit quasi-spells that Beldina brought to the Assyrian descendants had wide-ranging applications, but compared to the Ancestral Spirit quasi-spells, they were still nascent and far from forming a complete system. This was also why most Assyrian Shamans found it difficult to let go of their Ancestral Spirit magic.

During her imprisonment in the Realm of All Spirits, Beldina not only learned the system of psionic spells from the Ant-man Empress, but the Pale Sovereign also passed down to her the complete legacy of Ancestral Spirit quasi-spells, which included the Spirit of Fury. It was a pity, however, that Father Miller had used a powerful divine art, one exceeding the seventh-level, to lock away Beldina’s spellcasting abilities, sealing her memories related to Ancestral Spirit quasi-spells along with them.

As the Chosen One’s own abilities continued to grow, she would one day break the seal placed upon her by the old man Miller.

For now, though, she could only cast the most basic of psionic spells—the Touch of Chaos.

The Touch of Chaos possessed an extremely high standing, encompassing the three major spell domains of mind, transformation, and element. Victor believed that if one had to classify the Touch of Chaos, it could be categorized independently within a Chaos Body spell domain. However, the spell’s level was very low. Beldina could use it to ignite a piece of wood out of thin air, but if she tried to use it on a large tree, it would fail.

The Touch of Chaos seemed like a common trick performed in a circus.

But a trick could only ever be a trick; it could never become a true spell. The Touch of Chaos that Beldina was now using on the Slime Behemoth belonged to the Spirit of Fury, and its effect was no less potent than a quasi-spell from the Fury Wizard King.

The Slime Behemoth, standing over three meters tall, had been alive for at least several hundred years. Its strength and speed were comparable to a Gold-rank Ogre Warlord, and this alone was enough to classify it as a Gold-rank Undead Creature. In reality, the Slime Behemoth was more powerful than an Ogre Warlord, possessing three extraordinary abilities: an Elemental Form, the Gaze of Despair, and Spirit Siphon.

Elemental Form: The Slime Behemoth’s body was primarily an aggregation of earth elements, manifesting as a black, gelatinous substance that was extremely tough, incapable of being wounded, and immune to any form of weakening effect.

Gaze of Despair: The gaze from the Slime Behemoth’s Soul Fire could inflict mental damage on a creature. If the creature’s willpower failed to resist the Gaze of Despair, it would be overwhelmed by despair and lose its will to survive.

Spirit Siphon: Through direct contact, the Slime Behemoth could continuously drain a creature’s life force and Soul Fire, progressively lowering all of the creature’s basic attributes until it was reduced to a dried corpse.

The Slime Behemoth’s extraordinary abilities and basic attributes surpassed those of an Ogre Warlord. Unfortunately, they possessed only instinct, not wisdom, and the Assyrian skull that housed their soul was their fatal weakness. An experienced Bronze Knight who understood the Slime Behemoth’s characteristics had a chance to destroy one, but it was nearly impossible for a Bronze Knight to face an Ogre Warlord alone.

The ant swarms and the Assyrian Shamans had been pestering each other for over twenty thousand years, so they certainly understood the Slime Behemoth’s weakness. Moreover, the War Ant King Taorminos was stronger in every aspect than a Gold-rank Slime Behemoth.

Under normal circumstances, a Gold-rank Slime Behemoth stood no chance against the War Ant King and would most likely be killed instantly.

A Raging Puppet, however, was a different story.

Beldina’s slender, pale hand slapped against the Slime Behemoth. The two clusters of pale flame dancing in its eye sockets contracted and solidified, transforming into fiery red eyes. The body of black ooze tightened and tensed, revealing fine, muscle-like striations as it swelled two sizes larger before their very eyes. In an instant, the 3.4-meter-tall Slime Behemoth became a 4.7-meter-tall, vaguely humanoid monster radiating a red glow.

The fire element summoned by Beldina’s Touch of Chaos couldn’t even burn a Gnoll to death, but igniting a large barrel of Fire oil required only the faintest spark. By the same token, when the hundreds of years of accumulated Soul Fire within the Slime Behemoth met the spark of spirit essence released by Beldina, it immediately began to burn furiously according to her will. The Slime Behemoth’s spiritual power was completely and utterly unleashed, like a volcanic eruption spewing molten rock.

The Slime Behemoth’s Spirit attribute instantly broke through the Gold-rank level, soaring to the peak of Legendary rank.

Raging Puppet, a Legendary-rank Undead Creature with dual earth and fire elemental traits. Its strength was increased by 150%, its speed by 30%, for a duration not exceeding thirty-five minutes. It possessed five extraordinary powers: Soul of the Assyrian Warrior, Molten Shell, Enraging Gaze, Spirit Siphon, and Searing Pain.

Beldina pointed at the War Ant King, and the Raging Puppet, glowing with fiery light, charged forward. Like a burning meteor, it leaped from the high platform of the pyramid, crashing down towards Taorminos in the square below.

Faced with the Raging Puppet’s incomparably ferocious aerial assault, the War Ant King’s posture remained unchanged as it instantly slid back over ten meters. With a tremendous boom, the Raging Puppet slammed into the spot where the War Ant King had been moments before. The earth cracked, and a wave of air rolled outwards, so powerful that even the onlookers on the high platform of the pyramid felt the ground tremble beneath their feet.

The force of the Raging Puppet’s pounce was immense. Not only did the ground in a ten-meter radius crack and collapse, but its thick, gelatinous legs were also deformed by the impact, temporarily immobilizing it.

The War Ant King seized the opportunity while the Raging Puppet was off-balance. It charged forward on all fours, its psionic shield cutting through the air resistance. The massive, giant rhino-like body shot forward, its speed too fast for the eye to follow, yet it made no sound. It was as if it had blinked in front of the Raging Puppet, aiming for its chest and swinging a heavy fist.

The punch was silent and didn’t seem particularly imposing, but given Taorminos’s physique, no one would doubt that its power was sufficient to snap the Raging Puppet in two.

Taorminos was massive, but before the nearly 5-meter-tall Raging Puppet, it looked like a goat. It wanted to strike the puppet’s vital head area, but it would have to stand up to even reach it. Taorminos estimated that the Raging Puppet’s strength was not much different from its own; if it only used two legs to support itself, it would lose its advantage. Thus, it decided to break the puppet’s chest first, then dig out its skull to end the fight instantly.

However, the Raging Puppet was not made of flesh and blood. As an undead creature in an Elemental Form, it was immune to most negative effects. Even after falling dozens of meters from the top of the pyramid and deforming its legs, the Raging Puppet did not feel the slightest bit of dizziness.

The Soul of the Assyrian Warrior was at work, bestowing the Raging Puppet with exceptional combat skills. Without a moment’s hesitation, it raised a thick arm and threw a straight punch of its own, aimed right at the War Ant King’s fist.

The two fists, one large and one small, collided with immense force. With another boom, the displaced air shot out in all directions, and the dust that had yet to settle billowed up once more, tracing the chaotic ripples of the shockwave.

Before the Raging Puppet’s tremendous strength, the War Ant King’s psionic shield shattered like a fragile crystal window. What also shattered was half of the Raging Puppet’s arm. Although its fist was thicker than the War Ant King’s, its physical durability was clearly no match for the Ant King’s heavily armored body. The red-glowing black ooze, carried by the airflow, shot out like arrows, splattering onto Taorminos.

The Raging Puppet met the War Ant King head-on, and one of its arms disintegrated on the spot. The watching Assyrian Shamans and Beast Spirit Warriors paled.

The Raging Puppet that Beldina had created represented the highest level of quasi-spells the Assyrian descendants had ever seen. Yet such a powerful undead puppet had lost to the War Ant King Taorminos in a direct confrontation. The Shamaness Queen had been pondering how many soldiers the Assyrian army would need to mobilize to kill the War Ant King. Now, she had lost all confidence in destroying Taorminos, believing that if the War Ant King wanted to escape, the Assyrian forces in the city wouldn’t be able to stop it.

The members of the Randall expedition team, however, who had witnessed powerful monsters like the Lord of Despair, the ancient species of undead Bat, Philip II, and the War Ant King Apollis, were not particularly surprised. Taorminos’s strength was not yet enough to crush the Raging Puppet; it was merely that its carapace was sturdier, which made the Raging Puppet seem fragile in the full-force collision. And the Raging Puppet’s advantage did not lie in pure strength.

The black ooze splattered onto the War Ant King’s carapace and immediately turned into searing hot lava, its heat stinging Taorminos’s mind and making it feel a wave of irritation. Realizing something was wrong, the War Ant King abandoned its plan to press its advantage. The purple markings on its chest glowed, and it once again raised its psionic force field, flinging all the black lava from its body.

At the same time, rings of yellow Void Earth Element swirled around the Raging Puppet, its shattered arm rapidly regenerating. It fixed its eyes on the War Ant King not far away and then charged at it menacingly.

Any ability like berserk, frenzy, or bloodlust had a time limit. Taorminos had already tested itself in a head-on clash with the Raging Puppet and confirmed that its own strength, speed, and defense were superior to the bloated Slime Behemoth, though not to the point of being able to crush it.

Logically, it should now avoid a direct confrontation with the Raging Puppet and wait for its enhancement to wear off.

But Taorminos was locked in the Raging Puppet’s fiery red gaze, and feelings of anxiety and anger rose within it. It simply charged forward to trade blows with the Raging Puppet.

The two large monsters both abandoned parrying and dodging, simply exchanging blows in a flurry of furious, brawling attacks that went ping, pang, pow. One had a psionic shield and a carapace as hard as bedrock, taking powerful blows continuously without a scratch. The other was made entirely of black ooze with astonishing regenerative abilities; even when hammered out of shape by its enemy, it acted as if nothing had happened, even trying to use its flexible body to entangle its opponent.

A few of the Assyrian Shamans on the temple roof couldn’t help but show looks of delight. They could see that the Raging Puppet was slower and less agile than its opponent. If the War Ant King had adopted evasive tactics, the Raging Puppet would have truly been helpless against it. But the Spirit of Fury had already infected the War Ant King, making it recklessly clash head-on with the Raging Puppet. The crucial point was that the ooze monster couldn’t be injured. Even if it couldn’t break through the War Ant King’s defenses for the time being, its Spirit Siphon was continuously at work, and the War Ant King’s stamina had its limits. If they continued to fight like this, the scales of victory would inevitably tip in the Raging Puppet’s favor.

Narsen stroked his chin and remarked with emotion, “I’ve never seen powerful monsters fight each other for over ten minutes. This is truly…”

What he meant was that when two evenly matched powerhouses engaged in close combat, the victor was usually decided, and life and death determined, in a very short time. Only weak creatures were unable to harm each other, like two weaklings pecking at each other. The current situation could only mean that there was a huge disparity in strength, and the War Ant King was toying with the mindless Raging Puppet.

The most powerful abilities of the high-ranking ants were their herd mentality and Mental Link, yet so far, Taorminos’s high-ranking guard ants had been standing by and doing nothing. It was obvious that the War Ant King was not using its full strength. Even under the effects of the Raging Puppet’s Spirit Siphon, with parts of its carapace growing dim, it was still completely at ease, with victory already in its grasp.

Beldina, however, had misunderstood. She lifted her slightly rounded chin high, her face a picture of smug satisfaction.

She had used the Touch of Chaos on the Slime Behemoth, causing a qualitative change. The Gold-rank Slime Behemoth had been promoted to a Legendary-rank Raging Puppet, capable of clashing head-on with the War Ant King and seemingly holding its own. Beldina had reason to be proud.

Victor patted her head and said admiringly, “The Raging Puppet’s Elemental Form, combined with its Molten Shell, Enraging Gaze, Spirit Siphon, and other extraordinary powers, forms a closed loop of talents. It would definitely shine on a battlefield. Bel, you did very well. I believe that even if the Fury Wizard King of the Assyrian Empire were reborn, he might not be able to reach such a height… You are truly worthy of being the Chosen One.”

Beldina was a little confused. She hadn’t considered any “closed loop of talents” for the Raging Puppet at all; these were just extraordinary abilities that had naturally arisen when the Slime Behemoth was stimulated by the Touch of Chaos.

Of course, the young girl would never admit this.

“The Raging Puppet lost because it lacks wisdom, but it’s still a very powerful weapon,” Victor said again. “If you could imbue the spirit of the Bear-monster Elder onto the Raging Puppet, then the War Ant King Taorminos would have to flee…”

“Master, wait.” Beldina was even more confused now. She pouted with a wronged expression and said, “My Raging Puppet clearly hasn’t lost yet.”

Victor smiled slightly and nodded. “It will lose any second now.”

Just as he finished speaking, the War Ant King stood up on its two hind legs, freeing its upper limbs and forelimbs for a total of four arms, instantly towering over the Raging Puppet. It used one pair of forelimbs to pummel the Raging Puppet’s chest, the tremendous force caving in the puppet’s torso and bending it out of its “humanoid” shape. The Slime Behemoth’s shoulders and head drooped down.

Taorminos clamped its upper limbs around the Raging Puppet’s head. The three pairs of purple markings on its carapace all lit up, and a powerful psionic energy penetrated the black ooze, completely pulverizing the red-glowing Assyrian skull in its eye sockets.

The nearly 5-meter-tall Raging Puppet immediately ceased all movement. The black ooze squirmed and deformed chaotically before finally collapsing into a puddle of foul-smelling black mud.

Beldina’s mouth hung slightly open, her expression frozen. Her face went from sunny to overcast, and she looked as if she was about to cry. Victor comforted her, “Darling, you did a great job. We’re all proud of you.”

The onlookers snapped back to their senses and gathered around Beldina, all beginning to praise her at once, tripping over each other’s words.

Victor gently placed a hand on Bel’s shoulder and said, “Try the Touch of Chaos again.”

The Chosen One lowered her head and said dejectedly, “But the Raging Puppet was my strongest move, and the other puppets aren’t Gold-rank slime monsters.”

Victor said seriously, “You’ve fallen into a misconception. Victory in battle is never determined by strength alone, but by a comprehensive assessment of all factors. It’s like a four-hundred-pound Adamantine lock—it’s nearly impossible to break with brute force, but a small key can open it. As a spellcaster, your job is to find the right key in the shortest amount of time.”

“Find the right key?” Beldina blinked her large, bright eyes and said in confusion, “Master, I don’t understand what counts as the right key.”

Victor looked at the War Ant King standing in the square. “Legendary monsters have powerful willpower. If you try to use the Touch of Chaos on them, you will inevitably awaken their resistance, causing the spell to fail. But what if your Touch of Chaos was beneficial to them, harmless, or only slightly harmful? What do you think would happen?”

Without waiting for Beldina to think of an answer, Victor continued, “They would accept what is beneficial, ignore what is harmless, and tolerate what is slightly harmful. But a beneficial change does not mean a beneficial outcome, and a harmful change does not mean a harmful outcome. Causing a beneficial change to lead to a harmful outcome is still too complex for you. So today, let’s test a slightly harmful change on the War Ant King.”

“Bel, you must understand that no creature in this world can eat everything. If something existed that could devour all things, it would mean the end of the world. Although the War Ant King’s level of life is very high, it is still within the category of living beings. There are things it can eat, and things it cannot… Here, do as I say.”

Victor leaned close to Bel’s ear and whispered a suggestion. The young girl nodded repeatedly, thinking her Master’s method was very interesting.

Then, she selected the weakest ooze monster, slapped it, and shouted sweetly, “Touch of Chaos—Nauseating Puppet, go! Let that monster below see just how nauseating you are!”

This Silver-rank Slime Behemoth was the smallest, only 2.6 meters tall. When Beldina used the Touch of Chaos on it, its appearance didn’t change at all. It charged down the tiered slope of the pyramid, swinging its black ooze arms like whips at the War Ant King.

Taorminos once again threw a heavy, straight punch, smashing the ooze monster’s head and directly shattering the Assyrian skull hidden inside. The slime monster exploded with a bang, and black ooze splattered everywhere, blocked by the War Ant King’s psionic force field, not a drop touching its carapace.

The Assyrian Warriors watching from the fortified towers were all dumbfounded. This Slime Behemoth was far too weak compared to the previous Raging Puppet; the War Ant King had killed it in a single blow.

Harenadak and Great Shaman Tumen, however, noticed a change in the War Ant King’s spirit. They realized that the ooze monster was merely a vessel; Beldina’s Touch of Chaos had been delivered to the War Ant King through it.

Taorminos had a completely different experience. At first, it felt nothing, but gradually, its stomach began to feel uncomfortable, as if it were stuffed with Goblin feces. The feeling of nausea grew more distinct with time. The more it tried to fight the mental illusion, the stronger the nausea became. Its carapaced face could not show any change in expression, but after enduring for a few minutes, it could no longer hold back. It opened its mouth and vomited out all its stomach acid and undigested food.

Narsen clapped his hands and chuckled, “We won!”

Beldina’s eyes widened. “We won just like that?” she asked. “The big ant is just vomiting, how did we win?”

The Bear of the Northlands stared intently at the War Ant King, which had stopped vomiting, and said with some regret, “Just now, its fire of the mind went out for a moment, and its body went out of control, which caused the vomiting. If I had been within 40 meters, I’d have had a chance to cut its head off with one strike!”

He then turned to Victor for guidance. “My lord, can the fire of the mind also be extinguished?”

“Just as you saw.”

Victor nodded and explained, “The mind is open, constantly interacting with the outside world. The eyes see colors, shapes, and distances; the nose smells different scents; the ears hear various sounds; and there’s the sense of touch from the skin. Even elemental changes are all reflected in the mind. External information naturally affects the mind. Only a completely closed mind can be free from the interference of external information, but that would be no different from a stone.”

“Beldina’s Touch of Chaos merely made the War Ant King feel sick. Since it was only slightly harmful, it didn’t trigger its full resistance and acted directly on its mental level. By the time the War Ant King reacted, it was too late. It’s like a smelly rat sneaking into a house; as you try to drive it out, you are also reinforcing your own aversion to the smelly rat. As the War Ant King fought against the nauseating effect of the Touch of Chaos, its own mind power actually amplified the feeling of nausea, and its body produced a corresponding reaction. Vomiting was its way of expelling the Touch of Chaos.”

“Over fifteen hundred years ago, when the Pantheon’s Archwizards, the Blair siblings, were able to kill the legendary paladin Bethel of House Testier, they must have first destroyed his mental will. If even a legendary paladin can die at the hands of a Chosen One, what is it for Beldina to simply make a War Ant King feel nauseous…”

Victor stepped forward from the group and called out to the War Ant King below, “The spring in the square is a spirit-essence blood spring, which is beneficial to your ant race. You’re injured, aren’t you going to drink some? I promise I won’t stop you.”

Taorminos wasn’t really injured from the nausea and vomiting, just a little embarrassed, but that was of no concern. However, in its brawl with the Raging Puppet, it had been affected by the Spirit Siphon. Parts of its carapace had grown dim, and its defensive power had decreased. Drinking from the spirit-essence blood spring would indeed help it recover from the damage.

Seeing Taorminos standing there, unmoved, Victor taunted, “So you don’t dare to drink from the spirit-essence blood spring.”

“That is correct. None of them dare to drink from the Fountain of Youth. Because I do not permit it.”

A high-ranking ant, a female with a full-body silver-white carapace, stepped forward. She walked unhurriedly to the bottom of the pyramid’s tiered staircase, raised her head, and met Victor’s gaze from afar.

If the high-ranking ants absorbed the power of the spirit-essence blood spring, they would likely be able to break free from the Ant-man Empress’s control. Therefore, the Ant-man Empress would never allow her high-ranking ants to drink from the Fountain of Youth.

Victor cursed inwardly. What a pity. He had wanted to use the temptation of the Fountain of Youth to play the same old trick again and plant a seed of a mental suggestion deep within Taorminos’s mind. The Ant-man Empress had already suffered a great loss once; she would not let Victor’s scheme succeed again.

Victor gave her a deep look, performed an elegant bow, and said in the ancient common tongue, “Your Majesty, Empress Angelina, please come up and speak.”

Chapter 873: To Advance by Retreating

Watching the female White-armored Ant-man ascend the pyramid step by step along the bluestone stairs, Harenadak, Tumen, and the other Great Shamans were filled with a mix of complex emotions.

This was the legendary undying spirit thief, formless by nature, who could descend upon any Ant-man, and had long been the nightmare of the Assyrians. But they had already learned from Beldina that The Undying One was, in fact, the founder of the Assyrian civilization, the architect of the Realm of All Spirits, and the first queen of the Empire, Angelina. The divine artifact passed down through generations of Assyrian Wizard Kings, “Angelina’s Sorrow,” was named after her.

One could say that without Queen Angelina, there would be no Assyrian Empire; her Assyrian subjects should have revered her memory. However, the Empire’s first queen had long ago become a terrifying monster that fed on Assyrians. Over the ages, countless Assyrians had been killed by the ant swarms, and what was even more detestable was that the victims’ spirits were then devoured or twisted by The Undying One. Now, seeing the first queen of the Assyrian Empire in person, the Assyrian Shamans felt no joy, only hatred and fear.

Harenadak even suspected that in the long span of history, the Assyrian Empire had perished more than once, and each time it was destroyed and rebuilt, it was likely all orchestrated by the first Empress Regnant.

The Ant-man Empress’s Incarnation climbed onto the platform at the pyramid’s summit, not even glancing at the Assyrian Shamans. Her gaze swept over the members of the Randall expedition team, lingering for only a brief moment on Father Dayn.

Just then, Beldina happily trotted over. Raising her little face before the Ant-man Empress, she asked in a coquettish tone, “Tutor Angelina, is that you? You came to see me, I’m so happy. Can you grant Bel one request? Please let the ant swarms spare the Assyrians here, okay?”

Imosen’s heart leaped into his throat, and goosebumps broke out all over his skin.

In the Wizard’s eyes, the Ant-man Empress was an out-and-out evil god. Her thoughts were inscrutable, and she would be completely unaffected by Bel’s talent for mental charm. His precious daughter was too close to the Ant-man Empress; although her recent display of magic had been stunning, her body was still fragile. The White-armored Ant-man possessed by the Empress could kill her with a single poke of a finger.

Caligula didn’t sense any malice from the Ant-man Empress toward Beldina, but he still followed Narsen’s lead, projecting his mind power onto the White-armored Ant-man. If the creature made the slightest move, or even had a thought of harming Beldina, the two top-tier Ferocious Warriors would attack preemptively to rescue Bel.

Ferocious Warriors who had mastered the Touch of the Mind were rarely caught off guard; they could always strike first. In this respect, even Victor couldn’t compare to Aka and Narsen, but he was capable of striking later yet arriving first.

The Ant-man Empress was completely unconcerned by the members of the House of Randell being on high alert, with swords drawn and bows bent. Since the Raging Wind Sword Saint was here, this contingent of high-ranking ants she had sent, including the War Ant King Taorminos and Herself, would have a hard time escaping safely. But if a real fight broke out, it would only be Her temporary Incarnation that died, which would have no impact on the current situation.

In any case, the current situation was just like Her mood—absolutely terrible. It couldn’t possibly get any worse.

For the past few days, the Ant-man Empress had been contemplating why Her plan had failed. Where exactly had things gone wrong? She had originally intended to fuse the divine artifact “Angelina’s Sorrow” into Beldina’s soul, then awaken the Chosen One’s true power and personality, thereby binding Herself to the Chosen One. The Assyrian Queen Beldina and the Ant-man Empress Angelina, the Chosen One and The Undying One, would form a tight bond based on the power of Law, one that transcended interests and emotions.

This way, by leveraging the Chosen One’s power, coupled with the knowledge and Secret History She possessed, and with the Assyrian Empire and the Ant-man Legion at Her disposal, the Ant-man Empress was confident that Her goal concerning the Lord of Radiance would eventually be realized. Her own ascension to angelic godhood and the attainment of eternity would be just around the corner.

The No. 7 Alchemy Tower Master may have stolen the Sun Elf’s standing and possessed formidable power, but he wouldn’t stand much of a chance facing both the Chosen One and the Ant-man Empress. As for this era’s Supreme Elementalist, Sylvia, she might be a major problem, but the Ant-man Empress always had ways of dealing with her. The simplest method was to find a place to hide and wait for the Supreme Elementalist to return to the origin of the world; it wouldn’t be too late to deal with the Radiant Church then.

The problem, as it turned out, was with Beldina. The Ant-man Empress never imagined that the Lord of Radiance, who was supposed to lack self-awareness, would intervene at the critical moment and prevent Beldina from fusing with “Angelina’s Sorrow,” causing Her entire plan to fall short at the last second.

Now, not only had Beldina failed to awaken the Chosen One’s power and personality, but the divine artifact “Angelina’s Sorrow,” which was crucial to the Ant-man Empress, had fallen into the hands of His Highness Randell. To make matters worse, he was a Sun Elf, making it almost impossible to reclaim the artifact from him by force.

Time flows like a ruthless river. Washed by long ages, the Ant-man Empress’s mind was as unfathomable as a bottomless abyss. Even after suffering a blow that would have caused most people to collapse and be unable to recover, Her emotions showed not the slightest ripple. She raised a forelimb and, under the hostile gazes of the crowd, caressed the top of Beldina’s head. “Your performance just now was outstanding,” She said faintly. “I can grant your request and permit these Assyrians to migrate elsewhere. However, you must also promise me that you will learn two metamagic techniques.”

The Ant-man Empress spoke to Beldina in the common tongue of the ancient Alchemical Empire. Of those present, only Victor, Beldina, and the alchemical creature Mewen knew this language. The rest could not understand—with the exception of Imosen the Wizard.

He turned to his daughter and cried out urgently, “Bel, don’t agree to Her terms! We have no way to constrain Her, so Her promise is useless! The metamagic techniques She wants to teach you could be a trap…”

Victor raised a hand, stopping Imoson the Wizard from saying more. In truth, Imosen was right. Until the correct method was found, the Ant-man Empress was an unkillable evil god. Beldina had no effective means of sanctioning Her, which meant She could rescind Her promise at any time. Victor also didn’t believe that a ghost who had been active for over twenty thousand years would go against Her own will just because Beldina was bubbly and cute.

The key to the Ant-man Empress letting the Assyrian descendants go lay with the descendants themselves. There were hundreds of thousands of Assyrian descendants. Not all of them could drink from the Fountain of Youth, but those Assyrian Warriors with status and power certainly could. Harenadak now had over eighty thousand elite warriors under her command, and the bloodline power of every Assyrian Warrior had been enhanced to varying degrees. Among them were many veteran warriors, rich in combat experience, who had been restored to their youthful forms.

This was an incredibly powerful force. If the Ant-man Empress wanted to annihilate them, the ant swarms would have to pay a heavy price. If She had to pay a price for no reward and it didn’t help Her achieve Her objectives, why would the Ant-man Empress insist on holding on to these hundreds of thousands of Assyrian descendants?

Imosen’s perspective and grasp of the bigger picture were, after all, somewhat lacking. He hadn’t understood the situation at all.

The Assyrian descendants were now an independent power; they couldn’t be used as a bargaining chip in their game. Besides, Beldina had been trapped in the Realm of All Spirits for so long that the Ant-man Empress must have already pulled whatever tricks She could. Since She had already lost to Father Miller, could offering two more metamagic techniques truly allow Her to control Beldina?

Of course, a game of this level was never one that Imosen and the others could participate in to begin with.

Victor mostly understood the Ant-man Empress’s intentions. She had used the War Ant King Taorminos to display Her power to him, and Victor, in turn, had guided Beldina to defeat the War Ant King. Through this, he was telling the Ant-man Empress that even though he was not a Mage and didn’t know magic, his grasp of the principles of a Law was enough to teach Beldina, the Chosen One.

That’s right. Beldina was currently just a seedling, but she had enough potential to soon qualify for the game played at the level of the Raging Wind Sword Saint, the Spirit Knight, the God-favored, and the Ant-man Empress. The attitude of Beldina, the Chosen One, could determine the direction of many things. The knowledge and power she craved, Victor could also provide, without troubling Archmage Angelina from the ancient Alchemical Empire.

The Ant-man Empress had originally intended to make a show of force to Victor, but Victor found an ingenious angle and used Beldina, the Chosen One, to make a show of force back at the Ant-man Empress.

Whomever the Chosen One was closer to, that’s whose side the scales would tip.

The still-oblivious Beldina could not yet comprehend the stakes involved, but a Chosen One’s craving for the power of a Law is part of their Nature. So-called emotional bonds were far too shallow to matter to the future Beldina. The competition between Victor and the Ant-man Empress had begun with the teaching of the mysteries of a Law to Bel.

“Bel, your application of the Touch of Chaos just now was brilliant. I will teach you two more practical metamagic techniques,” the Ant-man Empress said. “One is Rapid Cooldown. By sacrificing the casting sequence for two uses of Touch of Chaos, you can negate the casting interval, allowing you to instantly cast Touch of Chaos twice in a row with no cooldown time. The other metamagic technique is Convergent Casting. By sacrificing one use of Rapid Cooldown, you can combine two instant casts of Touch of Chaos into a single casting, increasing the spell’s power.”

“Rapid Cooldown and Convergent Casting themselves have no use limit. You can instantly cast two, three, or four times in a row, and you can also combine two, three, or four instances of Touch of Chaos into a single casting.”

After hearing this, Victor remained outwardly impassive, but inwardly he was stunned. The practical value of these two metamagic techniques went without saying. The key point was that it would be impossible to research such techniques without a profound accumulation of magical knowledge. This was the Ant-man Empress’s innate advantage; Victor could rack his brains but still find no way to guide Beldina in learning metamagic. Moreover, this was merely the tip of the iceberg of the Alchemical Empire’s magical theory. Who knew just how much incredibly precious magical knowledge the Ant-man Empress possessed?

Beldina bit her finger, her little brow furrowed. She hummed and hawed, “That sounds really hard… Tutor Angelina, if I learn the metamagic techniques, you’ll let the descendants of the Assyrian Empire go?”

The Ant-man Empress smiled faintly. “My student, as long as you complete the lessons I’ve prepared for you, I will agree to your request.”

Beldina turned her head and looked at Victor with pleading eyes, a very troubled expression on her face.

Not bad, she knows to seek my approval first… Victor was quite satisfied with Beldina’s reaction. He spoke up, asking, “Her Majesty the Empress, may I ask how long Beldina will need to learn the metamagic techniques you are teaching her?”

The Ant-man Empress’s gaze shifted to Victor. She countered with a question of her own, “I can teach Beldina indefinitely. Does Your Highness Randell have any objection to this?”

Victor pondered for a moment, then asked, “I would like to know, what arrangements does Your Majesty have for the Ant-man Legion?”

The Ant-man Empress answered Victor’s question. “I am preparing to dispatch the Ant-man Legion to the Great Plains, east of the Endless Forest, to build a nest. They will be under the command of Taorminos, and the force will include eight Ant-man queens and a total of five hundred thousand Ant-men. In the future, if necessary, I will move the entire swarm there to help the human kingdoms resist the invasion of the Abyssal demons.”

By having the Ant-man Empress nest in the Oak Savannah, close to the human kingdoms, she could either help Victor resist the demon invaders or cross the Lizard Marsh and launch an all-out war against the human kingdoms.

This would depend on whether Victor was willing to cooperate with Her, and the prerequisite for cooperation was handing over that Elemental Rune Crystal—“Angelina’s Sorrow.”

Victor had anticipated that the Ant-man Empress would use the entire human kingdoms to threaten him, but hearing Her admit it firsthand still weighed heavily on his heart. However, this also demonstrated that “Angelina’s Sorrow” was a matter of life and death for the Ant-man Empress. She had been backed into a corner and was willing to fight a bloody battle to the death with the human kingdoms.

Letting out a long breath, Victor nodded with a calm expression and said, “Alright, I agree to cooperate.”

The Ant-man Empress bowed Her head, giving Victor an elegant salute. “I assure you, cooperation is the wise choice. However, Your Highness Randell must show some sincerity.”

Victor took the divine artifact crystal from his pocket, flashed it for the Ant-man Empress to see clearly, then put it back. He then casually tossed two extraordinary weapons, “Soul Rend” and “Umbra,” in front of the Ant-man Empress.

The pitch-black piercing spear and short shuttle were caught by an invisible psionic force field. The Ant-man Empress said with admiration, “Forged from Saron Demon Iron and Thorium, these extraordinary blades in Your Highness’s hands are no less than divine artifacts. They can even slay the Black Blood Sovereign… my War Ant King would of course be no match for them. But I wish to remind Your Highness that this little bit of sincerity is far from enough.”

By handing over “Soul Rend” and “Umbra,” Victor’s combat strength was greatly reduced; even killing the War Ant King Taorminos would now be difficult. However, the Ant-man Empress didn’t care about the War Ant King’s life or death. If Victor were willing to take out the divine artifact crystal, She would be happy to create more War Ant Kings for him to kill to his heart’s content.

Even without the extraordinary weapons in his hands, the possibility of the Ant-man Empress managing to keep him here was minuscule, let alone snatching “Angelina’s Sorrow” from him.

Victor nodded and said decisively, “Fine! I will go to your ant nest as a guest right now. I will have Your Majesty bring my retinue and Beldina over. We will meet at the Alchemy Tower on top of the Asoerta Temple. And then, I will need to see your sincerity…”

As he spoke, Victor’s figure blurred and vanished from the top of the pyramid.

He came and went as he pleased. The Ant-man Empress, despite her massive swarm, had no way to deal with Victor.

Now that Victor had left with “Angelina’s Sorrow,” the Ant-man Empress did not want to delay a moment longer. She turned and spoke to Harenadak and the few Great Shamans in the Assyrian language, “From this moment on, you may no longer draw from the Fountain of Youth. I am leaving the Fountain here for the Assyrian savages outside this secret realm… You are free.”

Chapter X: Taking a Day Off

Taking a Day Off

”

My elderly Father has been seriously ill and hospitalized recently. As his son, it is my duty to attend to him, care for him wholeheartedly, and fulfill my filial obligations. Extraordinary Nobles will suspend its updates, and I am taking a week off. I would like to apologize to my darling readers and editors, and thank you all for your long-standing love and support. As I’ve said before, though the journey has been a bumpy one, this story will never be abandoned. Because I truly love this story of mine, too.

”

Chapter 874: Reactivation

The ruins of the temple were located on a mountain peak in the southern mountain range of Asoerta, several thousand kilometers from the rainforest capital city of the Assyrian descendants. Victor traveled at full speed, taking six days to finally see the majestic form of the Asoerta Temple. He didn’t rush in. Instead, he found a hidden spot and rested for nearly a day, restoring his vigor and physical strength to their peak condition before proceeding.

This place was now the Ant-man’s nest. Victor had already made arrangements, asking Narsen and the others to delay things as much as possible. It would take the Ant-man Empress at least fifteen days to travel from the Assyrian capital city with Beldina, giving him another eight days to activate Alchemy Tower No. 7 and complete the next phase of his plan.

However, the Ant-man Empress could descend upon any high-ranking ant, ignoring all spatial distance. But Victor’s greatest advantage was his unparalleled mobility. Even if the Empress’s will were to descend nearby, she would have no good way to deal with him. As long as the divine artifact crystal remained in Victor’s hands, he didn’t need to worry about the hostages’ safety. For now, Victor had to conserve his strength and vigor, ready to break out and flee at a moment’s notice.

If Victor was captured by the Ant-man Empress, it would truly all be over.

The whistling mountain wind, carrying fine ice crystals, slid past Victor, forming two splendid, halo-like ribbons under the brilliant sunlight. Victor trod on the snow-covered summit, strolling through the radiant, dreamlike world of ice and snow, walking unhurriedly towards the temple ruins.

On the vast, snow-white plain, a White-armored Ant-man leading a patrol spotted Victor and ran over from a distance. It was a high-level Ant-man male, its entire body covered in a silver carapace. It had a highly anthropomorphic face and carried two satchels of metal javelins on its back. Compared to the weapons made by the Assyrian descendants, the craftsmanship of these metal javelins was exquisite. Their sharp tips glinted with a cold light, and the shafts were straight and uniform. Considering the formidable strength of high-ranking ants, one could imagine how powerful they would be when thrown. Although the materials of these metal javelins varied, their sizes all conformed to a similar standard, which meant the Ant-man race possessed a relatively mature forging process.

This was quite remarkable. The Ant-man race’s war potential was greater than Victor had anticipated.

“Your Highness Randall? The Sovereign has commanded the swarm to welcome you. I can lead you to the main nest,” the high-ranking male ant said, his tone stiff, as he performed an ancient salute to Victor.

A half-man, half-ant monster performing the etiquette of the ancient Alchemical Empire always felt strange… Victor’s mind wandered for a moment before he shook his head and said, “I don’t need the Ant-man race to guide me. I told the Empress Regnant I would wait for Her on top of the temple.”

With that, Victor shot forward, leaving the high-ranking ant far behind in an instant. A gentle breeze enveloped his body, cutting through the air resistance. He seemed to fly just above the ground, not leaving a single trace in the snow. He quickly arrived at a drawbridge connecting the temple ruins to an opposing peak.

The iron-chain drawbridge spanned over 100 meters across the void, with a bottomless abyss below. Victor guessed that the Ant-man’s Giant Shield Beetles must have worked together, clutching the thick iron chains and flying across the great chasm to build this bridge, connecting the isolated peak where the temple stood with the other mountain ridges.

Even without this iron-chain drawbridge, Victor could have flown across the abyss at full power. But there was no need to display his extraordinary ability to traverse the void now. He crossed the bridge in three leaps, arriving at the foot of the Asoerta Temple.

The Asoerta Temple was the most majestic structure Victor had ever seen in his life. It was a full 400 meters tall, replacing the mountain’s summit, and its scale was no less than that of a small city. Back when the Black Blood Sovereign had broken free of the temple’s restraints, it had left a gash in the outer wall a hundred meters long and dozens of meters wide, but even that hadn’t shaken the temple’s overall structure. Currently, the Asoerta Temple was occupied by the Ant-man race, but they hadn’t fully repaired the massive breach in the wall, only making some necessary repairs. Through this opening, Victor could see Ant-men moving about inside the temple and hear the sounds of them transporting materials and forging ironware.

In a way, the Ant-man race had established a powerful kingdom with the temple ruins as its central city. The territory ruled by this Ant-man kingdom was mainly within the tunnels inside the mountain, with the magnificent Asoerta Temple complex being just a small part of it. But it was undoubtedly the manufacturing center of the Ant-man kingdom. Worker ants continuously transported mined ore and fuel into the temple for processing, manufacturing weapons, armor, and even large-scale machinery.

The Ant-man race was born for war, and the war potential of the Ant-man kingdom was clearly higher than any human kingdom. They had already escaped the shackles of the Alchemy Tower. Therefore, Victor’s use of the Alchemy Tower model to calculate the ant swarm’s war capabilities was a grave miscalculation. This was mainly reflected in the misjudgment of their population base.

Initially, Victor and the Tower Spirit King had analyzed that the ant swarm’s population limit was around three hundred thousand. In reality, their population limit was far beyond that number.

For a long time, the Ant-man Empress had been using Spirit-Devouring Island to convert the souls of the Assyrians, strengthening her own command capacity. The ant swarm’s population limit might have already surpassed the one million mark. Although the swarm was constrained by environmental resources and their actual numbers were not that high, as long as the conditions were right, the Ant-man queen could grow the swarm to its maximum size. This also included bizarre Gros Insectoids, such as the Gold-rank Giant Shield Beetles.

Of course, the number of Ant-men in the Assyrian Temple was significantly lower than it had been a few months ago. This was by no means good news. Just as the Ant-man Empress had said, the ant swarm had expended over a hundred thousand aging worker ants at the Colossal Slime Behemoth, and then organized a massive legion of Ant-men to build a nest in the Oak Savannah, near the Lizard Marsh.

Once these Ant-man soldiers crossed the Lizard Marsh, they could reach the Centaur Hills defended by the York family. They could either become powerful reinforcements for the primordial humans fighting the demons of the Abyss, or they could launch an all-out war against the human kingdoms.

Victor walked slowly up the steps along the temple’s outer wall. By the time he reached the top, not a single Ant-man had come out to stop him. This was likely because the Ant-man Empress had issued an order to the swarm not to interfere with Victor. It also confirmed one of Victor’s speculations—the Ant-man Empress’s descended will was not without its limitations; She couldn’t watch over both Victor and Beldina at the same time.

Unable to constrain His Highness Randell’s mobility, the Ant-man Empress could only choose to watch over Beldina and the core members of The Randell Expeditionary Force, using them as hostages in her negotiations with Victor.

Victor waited alone on the temple’s summit for a long time, but the Ant-man Empress’s will still did not descend. He let out a long breath, his gaze turning to the Alchemy Tower altar beside him. He then extended his right hand, summoning the Elemental Rune Crystal of Alchemy Tower No. 7. Aided by the Asoerta Temple’s point of elemental balance, he activated the Alchemy Tower and communicated with the Tower Spirit with his mind:

“King, report the current status of Alchemy Tower No. 7.”

“As you command, my lord,” the Tower Spirit King’s perpetually emotionless voice echoed in Victor’s mind. “Alchemy Tower No. 7 has been upgraded to a 4th-level main tower, containing production functions for both logistics and military alchemical units. The base production speed of alchemical creatures has increased by 12%, and the base production cost has increased by 8%. Additionally, the tower’s rapid production function has been upgraded to level 4, increasing production speed by 45% for a 30% increase in additional manufacturing cost. The memory upload function is level 4, extending the memory upload time for alchemical creatures to 12 minutes. Alchemy Tower No. 7 has unlocked the remote command function, allowing it to monitor all alchemical units within a 300-kilometer radius, pinpointing their coordinates and status, and issuing commands to intelligent alchemical units with a Spirit attribute higher than 20. This can be used once every 4 hours.”

Victor raised an eyebrow slightly. A 4th-level main Alchemy Tower, compared to a 1st-level Logistics Alchemy Tower, had a 12% increase in base production speed and an 8% increase in base production cost. This meant the production time for a regular Alchemical auxiliary soldier was reduced from 6 hours to about 5 hours and 40 minutes, while the production cost increased from 600 to 648 Gold Sols.

During wartime, increasing production speed regardless of cost would be fine. But in the long run, the disadvantages certainly outweighed the advantages. At the very least, it showed that the Gods of the Sanctuary, who had provided the Art of Void Creation to the Alchemical Empire, did not have good intentions. They were unscrupulously exploiting the resources and wealth of the primordial humans.

However, the newly unlocked remote command function of the Alchemy Tower was somewhat useful. It could be seen as a 300-kilometer-radius warning zone. The warning distance was a bit short, but in the event of a surprise attack by a powerful enemy, the Tower Master would have enough time to retrieve the Alchemy Tower’s Elemental Rune Crystal and swiftly escape the danger.

The memory upload function and rapid production function had also been upgraded along with the Alchemy Tower, making them more practical. The rapid production function was particularly effective for alchemical units with long production cycles. For example, creating an Alchemical militia took 12 hours. After activating the rapid production function, it would only take 8 hours and 40 minutes, with an additional thirty percent production cost. When Alchemy Tower No. 7 reached level 10, the practical effects of the rapid production function would be even more superior.

“The Soul Fire unit limit for the main Alchemy Tower No. 7 is 20,000 points. The actual Soul Fire units are 19,967. Used Soul Fire units are 8,845, with 11,122 remaining. Stored production resources amount to 468,007 gold coins.”

The Tower Spirit King continued his message to Victor: “The Alchemy Tower originally had 7 types of producible alchemical units: Alchemical auxiliary soldier, Alchemical militia, Alchemical Warhound, alchemical crow, Alchemical Soldier, Alchemical Dragon-Lizard, and Dragonoid. It has now added two new producible alchemical units: Alchemical Flying Serpent, Alchemical Warrior…”

The data for the Alchemical Flying Serpent and the Alchemical Warrior floated into Victor’s mind.

Alchemical Flying Serpent, a small flying combat unit. Physique 4, Spirit 5, Perception 12, Life 2. Production time: 3 hours 12 minutes. Production cost: 655 Gold Sol. Lifespan: 2 years. Possesses racial talents: Flight, Potent Venom, Mist Spray, Mimicry, and Infusion.

Flight: The Alchemical Flying Serpent has four air sacs in its body, giving it excellent flight capabilities, including long-distance gliding, hovering, and high-speed flight. However, its defenses are low, and its body is very fragile.

Potent Venom: The fangs and tail stinger of the Alchemical Flying Serpent contain a mixed toxin that produces different effects based on the prey’s physical characteristics.

Mist Spray: The wings of the Alchemical Flying Serpent can spray a fine mist, inflicting negative effects like paralysis, itching, coughing, blurred vision, and mental fatigue on enemies. When Alchemical Flying Serpents swarm, their mists stack and can form a domain.

Mimicry: The Alchemical Flying Serpent possesses the ability to change color and mimic its surroundings, making it an excellent ambush predator.

Infusion: The Alchemical Flying Serpent often does not kill its prey directly. It paralyzes the prey by injecting a mixed toxin, then siphons the victim’s dissolved fat, muscle, and blood. The amount drawn is not enough to kill the prey. It then feeds back a special liquid that promotes the prey’s regenerative abilities, repairing its physical damage. The Alchemical Flying Serpent’s Infusion skill can heal most creatures, including alchemical creatures.

Alchemical Warrior, a humanoid combat unit. Physique 18, Spirit 18, Perception 18, Life 8. Production time: 20 hours 44 minutes. Production cost: 17,553 Gold Sol. Lifespan: 12 years. Has 6 skill slots. Possesses all the talents of an Alchemical Soldier, plus the additional talents of Reinforcement and Warrior’s Soul.

Reinforcement: A passive talent of the Alchemical Warriors. Their Vital Tenacity, Environmental Adaptation, Combat Intuition, and Mental Link are superior to those of an Alchemical Soldier, with a 20% increase in effect.

Warrior’s Soul: The Alchemical Warrior activates the Warrior’s Soul talent, significantly increasing mental resistance and temporarily igniting the fire of the mind. Each minute it is sustained consumes 6 hours of its lifespan.

Victor couldn’t help but sigh at this. If the third-level Source-Blood Militia was a weaker version of the Alchemical Soldier, then the Alchemical Warrior was the elite template of the Alchemical Soldier. Their basic spirit attribute reached an astonishing 18 points. According to the evaluation criteria Victor had set for himself, they were only 2 points shy of the Spirit attribute of a Gold-rank primordial human and should be considered a Silver-rank alchemical unit. Unfortunately, the water element intensity of alchemical creatures was generally low, and their life forms had serious flaws. Even an Alchemical human with a 20-point Spirit attribute couldn’t ignite the fire of the mind. An Alchemical human unable to ignite the fire of the mind was much weaker in combat than a Bronze Knight, so the so-called Silver-rank was naturally a sham.

The Alchemical Warrior ignited the fire of the mind by consuming its lifespan in an extreme manner. Coupled with their average of 18 points in Physique, Spirit, and Perception, and their reinforced combat talents, they definitely met the standard of a Silver-rank Ferocious warrior. Their combat power should be close to that of Blood Python Macy and Red Wolf.

Alchemy Tower No. 7 could finally produce Silver-rank combat units.

If one could exchange twenty thousand Gold Sols for a Silver-rank Ferocious warrior to serve them for 12 years, it was a deal no great lord would refuse. However, Victor’s current choices for creating alchemical creatures were either the cheapest ones or the strongest combat units. With Alchemy Tower No. 7 having third-level Source-blood militia and Dragonoids, the Silver-rank Alchemical Warrior was in a somewhat awkward position.

The average production cost of a Dragonoid was as high as 220,000 Gold Sols. This amount could produce 11 Alchemical Warriors, but 11 Alchemical Warriors would have almost no chance of winning against a single Dragonoid. In contrast, the Alchemical Flying Serpent, costing less than 700 Gold Sols, was far more cost-effective.

Victor shook his head and asked, “The Asoerta Temple Alchemy Tower is a high-level Alchemy Tower. It must have more than one type of alchemical unit, right? I remember a few months ago, you said there were three new alchemical units. Besides the Alchemical Flying Serpent and the Alchemical Warrior, what’s the other one?”

The King responded, “I have collected 14 new alchemical unit types here. The bloodline information for 11 of them is incomplete and they cannot be produced. Only the bloodline information for the Alchemical Flying Serpent, the Alchemical Warrior, and the Red Demon is complete. However, Alchemy Tower No. 7 cannot produce the Red Demon for the same reason it faces obstacles in creating the Dragon Warrior.”

Victor remembered clearly that the Red Demon had been mentioned in the memory crystal of the Misty Mountains Alchemy Tower. It was a top-tier alchemical combat unit comparable to the Dragon Warrior.

Long ago, Victor had obtained the production template for the Dragon Warrior from the Gloomy Forest Alchemy Tower in the Gambis Kingdom. Because the Dragon Warrior’s bloodline information was incomplete, Alchemy Tower No. 7 couldn’t produce them at the time. When Victor later delivered an Elemental Rune Crystal sealing the blood of an ancient dragon to the Alchemy Tower, he had thought he could finally produce Dragon Warriors. But the world’s Laws had changed, and Alchemy Tower No. 7 still couldn’t create them, instead gaining the function to produce Dragonoids.

The problem with the Red Demon was the same as with the Dragon Warrior; the strict Laws of the world no longer supported the production of ancient species alchemical units. But Alchemy Tower No. 7 was not a traditional Alchemy Tower. It had integrated the Rune Crystal from the Misty Mountains Alchemy Tower, making it a brand-new type of Alchemy Tower with the powerful function to deduce new alchemical units in accordance with natural laws.

Since the Red Demon’s bloodline information was complete, logically speaking, Alchemy Tower No. 7 should be fully capable of deducing a new Red Demon alchemical unit, similar to how it created the Dragonoid.

“Transmit the specific information about the Red Demon to me,” Victor commanded.

“Yes.”

The Tower Spirit King immediately projected information about the Red Demon into Victor’s consciousness.

Red Demon, a high-level humanoid combat unit. Physique 35, Spirit 50, Perception 28, Life 12. Production time: 133 hours 52 minutes. Production cost: 275,886 Gold Sol. Lifespan: 25 years. Has 6 skill slots. Possesses two major talents: High-level Demon Bloodline and Red Demon Transformation.

High-level Demon Bloodline: The Red Demon is a powerful warrior and terrifying spellcaster fused with demon blood, possessing high-level demon talents such as Flame Mastery, Regeneration, Tough Physique, Elemental Resistance, Twisted Words, and Slaughter.

Red Demon Transformation: By slaughtering life and accumulating demonic power, the Red Demon can transform into a 5.4-meter-tall fire element demon. The effectiveness of its high-level demon talents increases by 100%, and it gains mastery over a Flame Domain and Soul Intimidation. The Red Demon Transformation can last for a maximum of 80 seconds. After the transformation ends, the Red Demon enters a state of extreme weakness with a cooldown of 15 hours.

The detailed information on the High-level Demon Bloodline and Red Demon Transformation sent a jolt of fear through Victor, as if he had caught a glimpse of the powerful enemies one would have to face during the Abyss demon invasion of the material plane. He then thought, since the Alchemy Tower can’t create Red Demons, the demons of the Abyss now probably aren’t as powerful as they were during the era of the ancient Alchemical Empire.

“Such a high Spirit attribute… If a new Red Demon alchemical unit is deduced, I’m afraid it would also rebel, wouldn’t it?” Victor shook his head, somewhat uncertain, but still ordered, “King, use the Red Demon’s bloodline information as a basis to deduce a new alchemical unit.”

“My lord, it will take approximately 62 hours for me to deduce the new Red Demon alchemical unit.”

Victor nodded. “There’s still enough time, but the Alchemy Tower can’t sit idle… Activate the rapid production function now. Produce Alchemical Flying Serpents without limit until I say stop.”

“As you wish, my honored lord.”

Chapter 875: A Glimpse

“The rapid production function of Alchemy Tower No. 7 is now forty-five percent faster. It only takes two hours and thirty minutes to create an Alchemical Flying Serpent.” Victor sat on the stone throne atop the temple tower. He waited for a short while, watching as the four-colored glow of the void element dissipated, and the first Alchemical Flying Serpent appeared on the Alchemy Tower’s altar.

This alchemical creature was about half a meter long, with a slender body resembling a long-tailed lizard with two pairs of thin, fleshy wings. Its entire body was translucent. At this moment, it swam around Victor, as agile and graceful as a fish in water, appearing quite affectionate toward its Master.

The Alchemical Flying Serpent used the biological template of the Potent Venom Flying Serpent; their forms and natural talents showed almost no discernible difference. The Potent Venom Flying Serpent was an ancient creature that primarily inhabited plateaus and was a rare sight in the human kingdoms. As the most renowned great scholar of the Silver Spire, Victor had not only seen a specimen of the Potent Venom Flying Serpent but also had a certain degree of understanding about them. Of course, that was monsterology knowledge collected and organized by the Silver Spire, whereas the barbarian Elder living in Raven Town in the Centaur Hills was much more familiar with them.

Potent Venom Flying Serpents had flotation bladders in their bodies, allowing them to turn with ease in flight, making them extremely agile. However, their bodies were very fragile; even a hit from a slingshot could kill them. Their venom was terrifying, the most lethal part being their tail stinger. Even a barbarian with an extraordinary physique would be in mortal danger if stung by a Potent Venom Flying Serpent. However, the serpents were relatively weak, and a Ferocious Warrior could tense their muscles to make it difficult for a serpent’s stinger to pierce their skin. Ordinary soldiers, protected by fine armor, could also resist the Potent Venom Flying Serpent’s poison damage.

What Victor valued most was the Potent Venom Flying Serpent’s mist spray ability, which was their most terrifying power.

A lone Potent Venom Flying Serpent often fell prey to raptors, but once they gathered in a swarm, they could form a toxic mist. Although not fatal, most creatures would steer clear of a swarm of these serpents. If one were to accidentally wander into the toxic mist, their stamina and spirit would be continuously drained, allowing the serpents’ deadly poison stingers to come into play.

As for the Potent Venom Flying Serpent’s Nurturing Fluid, it was a natural potion of Extraordinary Regeneration. High-level barbarians would sometimes venture into the lairs of Potent Venom Flying Serpent swarms specifically to collect this fluid to save their critically injured and dying allies.

Besides being able to deploy a toxic mist to guard key terrain and passages, the Alchemical Flying Serpents were also a rare type of medical unit, as they too could produce the Nurturing Fluid of the Potent Venom Flying Serpent.

Boom! A sound came from the iron drawbridge below the temple. A few Giant Shield Beetles, directed by a high-ranking ant, pulled out the iron clasps at one end of the drawbridge. The four hundred-meter-long iron chains plunged into the abyss with a deafening crash, eventually left dangling against the cliff face on the other side.

The Ant-man had cut off the iron drawbridge, turning the isolated peak of the Asoerta Temple into a dead end. The only way in or out was a single passage carved through the mountain by the ant swarms, but Victor would never enter the underground—that would be no different from suicide.

Victor’s lips twitched in a slight sneer. The Ant-man Empress’s actions were all within his expectations, which was also why he wasn’t in a hurry to resurrect the red Dragonkin handmaiden, Laila.

Though Alexia was powerful and a skilled fighter, she had no wings and could not cross the hundred-meter-wide chasm. Whether she tried climbing down the cliff or venturing into the ant-man passage in the mountain’s belly, it would be a death sentence.

Victor had originally planned to use this time to create a new flock of alchemical crows and use them to contact Sylvia, who was tens of thousands of kilometers away, to pass on the critical intelligence about the Ant-man race relocating their nest to the Oak Savannah. However, alchemical crows were ultimately reconnaissance units with an operational radius of only 400 kilometers. Without landing points established by alchemical humans along the way, it would be difficult for them to fly a distance of tens of thousands of kilometers. Victor had no confidence that they could handle the task of delivering military intelligence.

Fortunately, Alchemy Tower No. 7 could now produce a new flying combat unit—the Alchemical Flying Serpent.

They had flotation bladders in their bodies, allowing them to glide at high altitudes and migrate long distances without expending much stamina. A small number of Alchemical Flying Serpents might be hunted by raptors due to their fragile bodies, but no bird of prey would dare to provoke a whole swarm of them.

It cost 851 Gold Sols for the Alchemy Tower to produce one Alchemical Flying Serpent. Victor planned to create one hundred of them, at a total cost of nearly ninety thousand Gold Sols.

This was undoubtedly a hefty expense, but it was worth it to be able to deliver the intelligence in a timely manner.

The spire of the Asoerta Temple constantly shimmered with a four-colored light, like an unquenchable beacon, as Alchemical Flying Serpents were created one after another. They linked head to tail, forming a large circle that hovered and swam gracefully above their master, their slow, elegant movements a peculiar sight.

While Victor was creating alchemical creatures atop the Asoerta Temple, the Ant-man race within the temple did not interfere. A few high-ranking ants would deliver some food and water daily, asking if he needed anything else. Victor, of course, ignored their greetings, but he was well aware that the Ant-man Empress was constantly watching. It was just that she didn’t care how many alchemical creatures he made; even at full capacity, Alchemy Tower No. 7’s units didn’t have the strength to shake the entire ant nest, not even with His Highness Randall’s help.

Several days later, Alchemy Tower No. 7 had produced forty-five Alchemical Flying Serpents, and the Tower Spirit King’s Deduction of a new alchemical unit using the Red Demon’s bloodline information had yielded preliminary results. To Victor’s surprise, two different types of new alchemical units had emerged.

Demon Blood Soldier: A humanoid alchemical unit. Physique 16, Spirit 16, Perception 14, Life 5. Lifespan: 15 years. Production time: 20 hours. Production cost: 38,035 Gold Sols. Has six skill slots. Talent: Demonspawn.

Demonspawn: Demon Blood Soldiers are descendants of the Abyss demons, possessing demonic traits and demon power. Demonspawn can be promoted, up to a maximum of level 5. With each promotion, the Demon Blood Soldier’s four basic attributes permanently increase by 4 points, and depending on the mutation path, their Physique, Spirit, and Perception attributes will be further enhanced, but their Life attribute remains unchanged. A level-three Demonspawn gains the “Heart of Cinder” ability of a fire demon. A level-five Demonspawn’s appearance undergoes a specific change, and they also gain the “Demon Transformation” ability. In their transformed state, a Demonspawn’s demonic traits, psionic abilities, and Cinder Effect are all greatly enhanced.

Demon Traits: Demon Blood Soldiers possess the talents of Elemental Resistance, Extraordinary Regeneration (Regeneration), and Dark Affinity. They are fearful of powers with the light attribute and are countered by Mithril weapons. The effectiveness of Demon Traits is related to the Demonspawn’s level.

Demon Power: Demon Blood Soldiers love slaughter and torture, gaining satisfaction from the death and pain of their enemies, which in turn enhances their demon power and induces mutation. When enough demon power is accumulated, the Demon Blood Soldier will undergo a demonic mutation and increase its Demonspawn level.

Heart of Cinder: The Demon Blood Soldier’s demonic bloodline comes from a fire element demon lord, and their mutation path cannot escape the constraints of this demon lord. Regardless of the form their demonic mutation takes, any Demon Blood Soldier that advances to a level-three Demonspawn will inevitably possess a Heart of Cinder. A level-three Demonspawn can consume demon power to activate its Heart of Cinder, causing its heart and brain to become semi-fire-elemental. Its Physique and Perception attributes increase by fifty percent, and it gains psionic abilities of different mutation types. Its attacks also come with a Cinder Effect, dealing continuous burning damage to the enemy. The efficacy and duration of the Heart of Cinder are related to its demon power. If its demon power is completely depleted, the Demon Blood Soldier’s Demonspawn level will drop.

The second new alchemical unit the Tower Spirit King provided was a large beast standing 2.2 meters at the shoulder, 3.7 meters long, and weighing over 3,000 pounds.

Demon Hound: A large, semi-demonic alchemical unit. Physique 26, Spirit 22, Perception 18, Life 8. Lifespan: 20 years. Production time: 48 hours. Production cost: 148,033 Gold Sols. Talents: Wild Intuition, Demon Traits, Two-Headed, Soul Intimidation, Devour and Convert, Rampage, Green Flame Breath, Searing Gaze.

Demon Traits: The Demon Hound possesses the talents of Elemental Resistance, Extraordinary Regeneration, and Dark Affinity. It is fearful of powers with the light attribute and is countered by Mithril weapons.

Two-Headed: A Demon Hound has two heads and four hearts, making it exceptionally tenacious. It will not die completely in battle unless all of its heads and hearts are severely damaged.

Soul Intimidation: The Demon Hound uses a high-ranking demon template and naturally suppresses creatures weaker than itself.

Devour and Convert: The Demon Hound swallows its target alive, converting the victim’s soul and flesh into demon power, which allows it to use Rampage, Green Flame Breath, and Searing Gaze. A Demon Hound’s demon power cannot trigger mutation.

Rampage: The Demon Hound consumes demon power to activate its Rampage talent, greatly increasing its strength, defense, and Elemental Resistance, but its mind becomes chaotic and difficult to command. In the most severe cases, it cannot distinguish between friend and foe.

Green Flame Breath: The Demon Hound breathes green flame at a marked target, dealing fire and poison damage. It is ineffective against unmarked targets.

Searing Gaze: The Demon Hound’s four eyes simultaneously stare at a single target, marking it and dealing continuous psychic damage similar to incineration. If the target successfully resists the Demon Hound’s Searing Gaze, it becomes immune to Green Flame Breath, but this will trigger the Demon Hound’s Rampage and extreme hatred.

Both new alchemical units were very powerful. The Demon Hound could even be classified as a Gold-rank or higher extraordinary creature, while the Demon Blood Soldier was the only self-promoting alchemical unit Victor had ever seen.

Initially, Demon Blood Soldiers were weak, even weaker than a third-level Source-Blood Militia. But if they were promoted to a level-five Demonspawn, their basic attributes would see a significant boost. Their Spirit attribute, in particular, could exceed 26 points, not much less than the most powerful Dragonoid Rager. Combined with the numerous talents of a level-five Demonspawn, their overall strength would be comparable to a Dragonoid Rager. And the production cost of a Demon Blood Soldier was less than forty thousand Gold Sols, only one-sixth that of a Dragonoid Rager.

Of course, the promise of the Demonspawn levels was a grand one, but reality was harsh. Given the initial weakness of Demon Blood Soldiers, how many would Victor need to create for just one to be promoted to a level-five Demonspawn? Even if one in ten reached the top, his production costs would far exceed that of a Dragonoid Rager. Furthermore, by the time a Demon Blood Soldier was promoted to level five, its lifespan would likely be nearing its end.

Victor didn’t have detailed information about demon power yet, but the defect in the Life attribute severely limited the development of the Demon Blood Soldier, as they only had a lifespan of sixteen years.

Viewed from another angle, a lower Life attribute was also an indispensable limitation for alchemical units. The Demon Blood Soldier was the only new type of alchemical creature that could increase its Spirit attribute without needing a Soul Fire unit from an Alchemy Tower. This meant that, to a certain extent, they had broken free from the shackles of the Alchemy Tower.

New alchemical creatures that conformed to the laws of natural evolution already possessed a spirit. Victor estimated that if a Demon Blood Soldier’s Spirit attribute independently grew to the limit of a level-five Demonspawn, they would rebel. But even if a level-five Demonspawn did rebel, by the time it was promoted from level zero to level five, it wouldn’t have much of its lifespan left.

Promoting a Demon Blood Soldier to level five was not easy and was too dangerous. A level-three Demonspawn was just right. With a Spirit attribute of 21 points, it could activate the fire element demon lord’s Heart of Cinder, possess the combat power of an early Gold-rank, and not be so powerful as to break free from the Alchemy Tower’s restraints.

An ordinary Tower Master would only see the pros and cons of the two new alchemical units. His Highness Randall, the Mind’s Dominator, however, was more focused on the information about Laws hidden within them—critical information about the Abyss demons.

The keywords were “demon power,” “mutation and promotion,” “dark affinity,” “power of the light attribute,” and “countered by Mithril weapons.”

On this expedition, the divine arts of Radiance cast by the accompanying Father Dayn had a strong suppressing effect on both the undead and the Black Blood Demons. In addition, when the Dwarf Prophet performed his divination, he used three oil lamps—white, gold, and black—subtly pointing to the three Creators: the Bird of Light, the Creation Giant Ape, and the Demon Serpent of the Abyss. The ancient alchemists and Archmages had created the Lord of Radiance, whose origin lay with the mysterious Gods of the Sanctuary, the descendants of the Creator, the Bird of Light. Since the Abyss demons possessed dark affinity, the opposing Gods of the Sanctuary were naturally attuned to the light attribute. It was no surprise then that the Lord of Radiance, who originated from the Gods of the Sanctuary, possessed the light attribute.

The Abyss demons devoured the flesh and souls of their enemies to accumulate demon power for the purpose of mutation and promotion. From this perspective, the Blood Sacrifice War that erupted among the Chosen ten thousand years ago was inextricably linked to the Abyss demons. However, that catastrophic Blood Sacrifice War led mortals to form the conviction of Redemption, awakening the Lord of Radiance, which was definitely not in the Abyss demons’ interests.

The high-ranking demons of the Abyss should have used a more moderate approach, encouraging the Chosen to continue the Blood Sacrifices without awakening the Lord of Radiance. That would have been the correct course of action. An out-of-control Blood Sacrifice War seemed more like it was designed to awaken the Lord of Radiance, as if some unknown power was orchestrating everything from behind the scenes.

If the mastermind behind the Blood Sacrifice War was the Gods of the Sanctuary, with the goal of helping humanity awaken the Lord of Radiance to fight the Abyss demons, then why would the Gods of the Sanctuary have sabotaged the ancient alchemists’ god-creating plan tens of thousands of years ago?

The truth was shrouded in the mists of history, and Victor couldn’t see it clearly. But he remembered the time he was ambushed in the Giantwood Forest by a Legendary Knight who was an Incarnation of shadow. If the holy power of the Lord of Radiance represented the power of the light attribute, then wasn’t the shadow power wielded by the Legendary Knight an expression of dark affinity?

The Blood Sacrifice War was related to the Abyss demons, and the Shadow Knight was related to the Abyss demons. There was no doubt that the forces cultivated by the Abyss demons were lurking within the human kingdoms, a fact that had not changed from ancient times to the present.

In fact, Victor was already mentally prepared for this, so it was hardly a shock. Moreover, he suspected that those demon lackeys, those human traitors, were hidden within The Shadow Council. Perhaps even the Radiant Church had demon secret agents.

The Quicksilver spies, acting on Victor’s orders, had already infiltrated the Eastern Alliance of the human kingdoms to track down The Shadow Council. Victor had also sent most of his Alchemical militia over for Barol, the head of the Quicksilver spies, to command. By the time Victor returned to the Centaur Hills, Barol would surely have intelligence to report.

The opposing power attributes of light and dark, however, had opened a new door for Victor.

Although “light” and “dark” sounded terribly cliché by name, their essence was the concept of yin and yang, of positives and negatives. What specific significance this symmetrical difference in power attributes held, Victor did not yet know, but it had ultimately unveiled a new domain of the mysteries of the Laws. In-depth research into this new subject would surely bring the Mind’s Dominator even richer rewards. And the fact that Mithril, as a metal with the light attribute, could counter the Abyss demons, had practical significance.

Victor reached out and caught an Alchemical Flying Serpent, quickly carving a sentence onto its wing with his finger: Abyss demons are suspected to be weak to Mithril weapons.

Letting go of the soft-bodied Alchemical Flying Serpent, Victor sent a message to the Tower Spirit King, “Is the new alchemical unit, the Demon Hound, based on the Alchemical Warhound’s biological template?”

“Yes,” the King replied without delay.

Victor continued to ask, “The bloodline information of a high-ranking demon can be integrated with human and Warhound templates. What about the Dragon-Lizard, Dragonoid, and Flying Serpent templates?”

“Replying to my lord, the Alchemical Dragon-Lizard and Dragonoid templates are not compatible with the high-ranking demon’s bloodline information. The Alchemical Flying Serpent can be compatible with the demon bloodline, but the results of the natural Deduction are very poor. The new Demonized Flying Serpent unit is exceptionally weak and has no value for further Deduction.”

Victor nodded and said thoughtfully, “The bloodline traits of the Abyss demons are, one, corruption, and two, mutation, but dragon blood races are unaffected by the demon bloodline. I find it strange. They say humans are primordial beings, rich and diverse in their Bloodline Law, so what does that make the Abyss demons? Shapeshifters?”

The King interjected, “My lord, the mutation of the demon bloodline is random. It would be normal for the natural Deduction function of Alchemy Tower No. 7 to generate a Gold-rank giant demon, or a demonized toad. In fact, the Demon Blood Soldier and the Demon Hound are the optimal results of the natural Deduction, not the only results.”

The Tower Spirit was stating a fact: Demon Blood Soldiers and Demon Hounds might not necessarily exist among the Abyss demons, but a demon lord could twist primordial beings like humans or beastmen into different forms of monsters. The Grayhollow Satyrs of the Arreat Plateau and the Barbarians of the southern continent were ready examples.

If a demon lord could grant primordial humans new powers and longevity, just how many people would choose to throw in their lot with the Abyss demons?

Victor was silent for a long time, then sighed with a hint of helplessness, “A fortress is always breached from within…”

“Your Highness Randall, those are truly words of wisdom,” a magnetic voice drifted up from below the temple to Victor’s ears.

Victor walked to the edge of the temple’s top floor and looked down. He saw a humanoid creature encased in silvery-white carapace, floating by the stone steps, slowly drifting up. His dark gold eyes narrowed slightly. He frowned and said, “Your Majesty, Empress Regnant Angelina, is this your perfect body?”

Chapter 876: Clarifying Doubts

The body the Ant-man Empress now occupied was somewhat similar to that of the War Ant King Apollis, whom Victor had killed; it was very close to a human form. However, Apollis had a wide, flat tail behind him, a vestigial product of the Ant-man’s abdomen. The Ant-man Empress’s current form, on the other hand, showed no trace of an Ant-man abdomen whatsoever. The curves of her body, encased in silvery-white carapace, and her beautiful, delicate features were strikingly similar to a human female’s. Yet, she had four long, well-proportioned arms and a pair of eyes like ruby crystals, marking her as an unnatural monster at a single glance.

The Ant-men, with muscles that grew from within their very bones, had always been renowned for their immense strength; a low-ranking guard ant weighing four hundred pounds could match the strength of an Ogre chief weighing three thousand pounds. This Incarnation of the Ant-man Empress had to possess power at least on the level of a high-ranking ant. One could only imagine the destructive force she could unleash when wielding weapons with all four arms. At the very least, Victor had no intention of clashing head-on with this four-armed Ant-man using his own Body of Bedrock talent.

In truth, it was not the four-armed Ant-man’s strength that Victor truly feared, but her psionic energy.

The psionic force field of a high-ranking ant was similar to an earth Knight’s extraordinary realm, but its application was more refined and varied. For example, the War Ant King Apollis had an extremely high talent for psionic energy, and his use of it was so masterful that even Victor was left breathless with admiration. Apollis had four pairs of magic tattoos on his body, while the other War Ant King, Taorminos, who was as burly as a Giant Rhinoceros Beast, had only three. When they used their psionic energy, the magic tattoos on their bodies would glow. This indicated that the more magic tattoos a high-level Ant-man had, the stronger their psionic power.

On the silvery-white carapace of the four-armed Ant-man, Victor saw no less than twelve pairs of intricately shaped magic tattoos, glowing with a faint purple light that exuded a sense of mysterious beauty. The body cultivated by the Ant-man Empress might represent the absolute limit of psionic energy permitted by the laws of the world. Coupled with the Ant-man Empress’s degree of control over psionic energy, it was no exaggeration to call the four-armed Ant-man Her perfect body.

As Victor sized up the four-armed Ant-man with great interest, the Ant-man Empress perceived something special from the depths of his dark gold eyes. It was a psychic intuition that transcended sense and experience; the Ant-man Empress simply felt that Randall was analyzing her mysteries, his eyes seemingly able to pierce through surface appearances and glimpse the essence of all Laws.

The Ant-man Empress had lived for nearly thirty thousand years, accumulating a wealth of knowledge and experience over her long life. She had once had an audience with the Supreme Elementalist and was certainly no stranger to the Sun Elves. If her intuition was not mistaken, then His Highness Randall’s case was not as simple as merely usurping the standing of a Sun Elf. This Alchemy Tower Master of special status also possessed a top-tier talent of his own, one that was in no way inferior to that of a Sun Elf or a Supreme Elementalist.

The Ant-man Empress, who had been floating above the stone steps, let her feet touch down. She walked up to the platform at the top of the tower and said, “His Highness Randall possesses the Eyes of Scrutiny.”

A chill ran down Victor’s spine. He had never told anyone the secret of the knowledge jigsaw puzzle and X-3, and the Ant-man Empress was the first to perceive its existence.

It was precisely because of the knowledge jigsaw puzzle that Victor could glimpse a part of the mysteries of the perfect body from the Ant-man Empress’s few words. Yet, the Ant-man Empress could sense Victor’s knowledge jigsaw puzzle, though She used a different term for it: “Eyes of Scrutiny.”

Whether it was called the knowledge jigsaw puzzle or the Eyes of Scrutiny, its essence was to summarize laws from phenomena and then use those laws to analyze the unknown. All intelligent life that had kindled the torch of civilization possessed this learning ability, which might not seem surprising. But Victor’s X-3 had elevated this ability to a degree that was difficult for ordinary people to reach, allowing him to grasp a portion of a Creator’s authority.

To be precise, this portion of authority belonged to the domain of omniscience. Even grasping a very small part of the domain of omniscience was, in terms of standing, not much less than the top-tier talent of a mythological creature. If used properly, it could even be superior.

The former Archmage Angelina, now the Ant-man Empress, possessed an ability much like Victor’s.

Victor hated encountering opponents like the Ant-man Empress the most, and the Ant-man Empress felt the same. The perfect body was merely a pretext She had given to the Wizard Imosen while playing the role of the Lord of Sorrow, with no further details provided. She had not expected His Highness Randall to have actually formed his own understanding of the perfect body. This was enough to prove how formidable His Highness Randall was; dealing with him would be no easy task.

Mutually wary, they fell into a brief silence. The Ant-man Empress was the first to speak. “His Highness Randall is interested in the ‘perfect body,’ and I am interested in ‘a way to break the Radiant Church from within’… Perhaps we can make an exchange?”

Victor first gestured, directing the dozens of Alchemical Flying Serpents to ascend to a higher altitude, then said with a faint smile, “You want my help in breaking the Radiant Church from within, which means you wish to reach a consensus with me… Since you’re asking something of me, do you have any idea what I wish to obtain?”

The Ant-man Empress pondered for a moment before shaking her head. “I do not know your specific thoughts, but you were willing to entrust the Saron Demon Iron weapons to my keeping and come to my lair alone. You must want something from me. Therefore, we can discuss any issue… Besides, I am quite certain you crave knowledge, such as that of the perfect body.”

Victor narrowed his eyes slightly and asked, “My Alchemy Tower stores many types of biological templates, including those of Demonspawn and dragon blood creatures. Yet, I have never seen a biological template of the Gods of the Sanctuary. Can Her Majesty tell me why that is?”

A look of admiration appeared on the Ant-man Empress’s face. She nodded and said, “His Highness Randall’s question strikes at the very essence of the perfect body. I can tell you why… It is because the principle behind the Alchemy Tower’s void creation was borrowed from the perfect body of the Gods of the Sanctuary.”

“The Gods of the Sanctuary are different from the creatures of the material plane and the demons of the Abyss. They have no material form, only pure souls. When the Gods of the Sanctuary enter the material plane, they always mobilize the four void elements of earth, fire, wind, and water to coalesce a divine form and battle the demons of the Abyss. That divine form is the so-called perfect body.”

“The Gods of the Sanctuary use void elements to shape their divine forms, which is why they are also called the Gods of the Void. Their time in the material plane is brief, but they are very difficult to kill. If their divine form is destroyed in battle, the soul of a God of the Void will generally return to the sanctuary plane to rest and recuperate.”

The information revealed by the Ant-man Empress was largely consistent with Victor’s own judgment. The Law of Life, as a vital component of the world’s Laws, was in a constant state of change. How could there be any absolutely perfect life?

A perfect life form would mean the end of evolution, the complete solidification of the Law of Life. The rich and colorful natural world would henceforth become monolithic, which would also signify the end of the world. Therefore, a perfect body was only perfect for a certain period—be it several years, decades, or centuries. Beyond that period, the changes in the world’s Laws would inevitably prevent the perfect body from continuing to exist.

The principle behind the Alchemy Tower’s void creation and the coalescence of divine forms by the Gods of the Sanctuary was the same. It was no wonder that alchemical creatures with an undying Soul Fire could only survive for a relatively short time.

The Ant-man Empress had solved one mystery for Victor, but he frowned and asked another, “The Gods of the Void have immortal souls and can shape divine forms, coalescing a perfect body. Why would they impart such a crucial technique as the Art of Void Creation to the Alchemists?”

The Ant-man Empress said gravely, “From what I know, although the Gods of the Void are powerful, their numbers are very small, rendering them powerless against the vast demon armies. The most crucial reason is that demon lords can devour souls, and they regard the souls of the Gods of the Void as a delicacy. When a God of the Void is killed by a demon lord, not only can they not be resurrected, but it will also enhance the demon lord’s Demon Power.”

“You were just creating Alchemical Flying Serpents here and should have seen the manufacturing information for the high-level combat unit, the Red Demon. The description of Demon Power within it corroborates this point—the demons of the Abyss and the Gods of the Void are mortal enemies.” After a slight pause, the Ant-man Empress continued, “Do you understand now? I actually bear you no ill will. Otherwise, the alchemical Rune Crystal in Asoerta Temple would have been absorbed by me long ago, and you would not have had the chance to seize it. On the contrary, the Alchemy Tower you control is like a demon lord, constantly coveting the Ant-man Soul Fire I have converted.”

The alchemical Rune Crystal atop Asoerta Temple was at least twenty thousand years old. The fact that it had remained there until now indicated that the Ant-man Empress was incapable of absorbing the Alchemy Tower’s Soul Fire. From this perspective, Victor’s Alchemy Tower No. 7 was the natural enemy of the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower. However, the forces under the Ant-man Empress’s command far surpassed those of Alchemy Tower No. 7, so she had no fear of Victor at all. If Victor insisted on annexing the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower’s Soul Fire units, her army of hundreds of thousands of Ant-men could simply crush him.

Victor was silent. After a while, he asked, “What about the demons? Do demons devour the Soul Fire of alchemical units? There must be some conditions or limitations on their ability to devour Soul Fire and enhance their Demon Power, right?”

The Ant-man Empress smiled faintly and said, “The war between the Alchemical Empire and the demons of the Abyss began more than a thousand years before I was born. I did not personally experience the demonic tide, but I know that in addition to their hunger for the souls of the Gods of the Void, the demons of the Abyss also have a great fondness for the flesh and souls of primordial humans. It wasn’t until the Empire’s Alchemy Towers were erected that the high-level demons began to leave the human City-states alone, instead directing their demon claws to prioritize attacks on the Alchemy Towers. That is because the Soul Fire units of the Alchemy Towers originate from several demon sovereigns, making them endlessly attractive to high-level demons. It was around the Alchemy Towers that our allied forces—the Alchemical Empire, the Elven Empire, the Barbarians, and the Gods of the Void—engaged in fierce battles with the demon armies of the Abyss, constantly draining the power of the demonic tide until we forced the demon armies back into the Abyss, thus preserving the majority of intelligent life.”

“As for the limitations on the demons of the Abyss devouring souls, I do not wish to tell Your Highness right now. I will only emphasize one point: when the next demon invasion occurs, the demon lords will absolutely not spare Your Highness’s Alchemy Tower. The demons of the Abyss are Your Highness’s mortal enemy, I am not… My Ant-man army can even help Your Highness deal with the demons.”

Victor raised an eyebrow and asked, “And the condition is that I help you seize control of the Lord of Radiance?”

“No, it is to help us!” The Ant-man Empress took a step forward, her gaze profound. “You, I, and the Chosen One, Beldina—we three are the inheritors of the Alchemical Empire. The Lord of Radiance should have belonged to us all along. I am talking about the twelve Angelic Thrones under the Lord of Radiance.”

“The Angelic Thrones are the key reason the Archmages of the Mages’ Association fully supported the god-creating project. Once we gain control of the Lord of Radiance, I have a way to make Beldina distribute the Angelic Thrones. We will be like the Gods of the Void, coalescing an Angelic Body to manifest on earth, yet we will not be devoured by demon lords. The faith of mortals will provide us with a ceaseless supply of power. That is what it means to be truly immortal.”

Victor asked, “And what is the price?”

“The price? Are you referring to the soul contamination brought by the power of faith?”

The Ant-man Empress said with a smile, “The Archmages considered this problem long ago… The Lord of Radiance is responsible for purifying the impurities within the power of faith. It pays the price, and it has no self-awareness. We who occupy the Angelic Thrones do not accept the faith directly, so we do not have to pay the price of soul contamination. The successive Popes of the Radiant Church can only command the shells of the Radiant Angels, yet they are ignorant that the twelve Archangels are the most precious authority of the Lord of Radiance. What a laughable matter. How can we entrust the Lord of Radiance to those laughable mortals?”

Victor pursed his lips and said, “His Majesty, the first Pope Inoc, likely attempted to occupy an Angelic Throne. He even claimed to be the incarnation of the first Radiant Archangel Micklemers, but unfortunately, he failed.”

The Ant-man Empress spoke with disdain, “Micklemers… The first Pope gave the Radiant Angels names, trying to bypass the Lord of Radiance to absorb the power of faith directly. But his method was wrong. It would be strange if he succeeded. In the end, he was just a greedy fool.”

Victor shook his head and said, “Inoc did not have the complete legacy of The Alchemical Empire’s Highest Council, yet he still managed to uncover the secret of the Radiant Angels and put it into action, making an attempt… I’m trying to tell you that the clergy of the Radiant Church whom you scorn are not as incompetent as you think. The Radiant Church of today has accumulated immense power. I am certain that your Ant-man Legion is no match for the Radiant Church.”

The Ant-man Empress nodded and said, “I do not wish to argue with Your Highness on this matter… His Highness Randall holds power and influence in the human kingdoms. If you are willing to help, our plan to seize the Lord of Radiance will be much easier to achieve.”

Victor snorted and said coolly, “Use my power and status to help you dismantle the Radiant Church from within? What benefits do I get? Don’t try to deceive me with the Angelic Thrones. Those twelve thrones were prepared for Wizards, were they not? When a High-ranked Knight is annihilated, their soul is bound to return to the Elemental Sea; it’s impossible for them to occupy an Angelic Throne. I know my own situation very well. Although I’m not a Knight, my situation is similar. The Elemental Sea of Wind or the Elemental Sea of Fire is the final destination for my soul.”

The Ant-man Empress was silent for a moment before she said, “Your Highness is correct. You occupy the standing of a Sun Elf. Once you completely transform into a Sun Elf, the Soul Fire you have partitioned to the Alchemy Tower will return to you. Your Alchemy Tower will be taken over by Beldina, and she can choose a new Alchemy Tower Master. That is why I feel troubled. As soon as a Highness returns to the Sun Tree and takes that final step, he automatically gives up the Alchemy Tower, and the demon lords will no longer be his mortal enemy… However, I can sense that His Highness Randall wants something from me, or from Beldina. Your Highness may as well state your terms, and we can discuss them.”

“Terms… I haven’t decided yet,” Victor said with some hesitation. “Let’s resolve the matter at hand first. If you release Beldina and my followers—oh, and the Groth Broodmother Ann—and let them leave on their own, I will return this ‘Angelina’s Sorrow’ to you. Only then can we show our good faith for cooperation.”

As he spoke, Victor took the Elemental Rune Crystal from a pouch on his waist and held it in his palm. The Ant-man Empress’s gaze was immediately drawn to the divine artifact.

Chapter 877: Negotiation

“As the ancient Alchemical Empire teetered on the brink of collapse, the Archmages of the Highest Council persuaded the Supreme Elementalist to choose the most difficult path to avert the Empire’s impending doom: the God Creation Plan.

“Few knew that the Archmages of the Highest Council actually intended to use the God Creation Plan to change their own form of life, seize the Angelic Thrones of Radiance, and thereby obtain immortal power.

“The mage Angelina was not a core member of the Mages’ Association and originally had no right to know the secrets of the God Creation Plan. But as one of the plan’s test subjects, Angelina was inexplicably transformed into a spiritual life form. This coincided with the drastic changes sweeping the Alchemical Empire, during which almost all the powerful figures of the Highest Council perished.

“By that time, Angelina had already become the Ant-man Empress, a soul-like entity similar to the Gods of the Void, possessing a near-immortal life.

“Under the circumstances at the time, if anyone could restore the glory of the Alchemical Empire, it was none other than Angelina. Only then did Douglas, the leader of the Secret Order, reveal the full secrets of the God Creation Plan to her.

“How many people would yearn to change their form of life and become immortal Gods of the Void?

“In truth, most people are accustomed to their own way of life, and the life form of the Gods of the Void holds less appeal for them than one might imagine.

“The Ant-man Empress was different. Although Angelina had not initially given up her identity as a human female mage voluntarily, reality was irreversible. For over twenty thousand years, She had controlled the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower as a spirit entity and had long grown accustomed to the immortal way of life.

“However, a spirit entity that relies on the Realm of All Spirits has a major flaw. The Rejuvenation of the King of the Spirit Realm’s will would naturally purge any parasitic spirit entities. Therefore, for the Ant-man Empress, seizing an Angelic Throne of Radiance was not only a way to regain her ability to cast spells, but also the only path to freedom.

“If one day, the Ant-man Empress truly ascended to an Angelic Throne of Radiance, She would no longer be a mere sovereign of the ant swarms. Instead, She would be attaining the position of a Radiant Angel in Her capacity as an Archmage of the Alchemical Empire’s Highest Council. At that point, She would have no choice but to continue implementing the God Creation Plan until the Alchemical Empire’s Highest Council was re-established.

“Beldina could help the Ant-man Empress ascend to an Angelic Throne, but first, She had to survive.

“And His Highness Randell now held Her life in his hands.

The Elemental Rune Crystal in Victor’s hand bloomed with a soft glow. The Ant-man Empress had brought out the four-armed Ant-man shell, meticulously cultivated in the ant nest. Its individual strength had reached the pinnacle for a high-ranking ant, second to no opponent. Yet, She still lacked the confidence to detain a Sun Elf.

Worst of all, the Ant-man Empress had no idea what terms to offer to persuade His Highness Randell to cooperate and willingly return “Angelina’s Sorrow.”

An Angelic Throne of Radiance might be enough to buy a Tier 9 Archmage, but it was useless to His Highness Randell. The Ant-man Empress had nothing more precious than an Angelic Throne to offer.

“Are those mortal followers important to Your Highness?” the Ant-man Empress asked uncertainly.

Victor replied with a playful smile, “Whether they are important to me is none of your business. The question is, are they important to Her Majesty?”

The Ant-man Empress said again, “Your Highness Randell, mortal lives are short. Given the standing of you, me, and Beldina, the life or death of these followers of yours is not worth considering. I could let them go, imprison them, or eliminate them as I please. I just don’t understand, how can a few mere mortals sway the will of Your Highness Randell and affect our cooperation?”

Victor’s smile vanished. “You truly haven’t grasped the situation,” he said seriously. “But I know you possess an advantage I cannot hope to match: longevity.”

He closed his fingers, clenching the Elemental Rune Crystal tightly in his palm, and continued, “You claim you cannot absorb the Alchemy Tower’s Elemental Rune Crystals, and I can’t be entirely sure of that yet. But initially, I was indeed worried the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower coveted my Alchemy Tower No. 7, so I considered Her Majesty a mortal enemy. This was the reason I left my fief and led an expedition into the Endless Forest—to shut down the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower and eliminate the threat of the ant swarms once and for all. As it happens, I acquired a memory crystal from an ancient alchemist in the Misty Mountains, from which I learned the method to shut down the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower… However, though I was lucky enough to obtain the divine artifact, the crystal ‘Angelina’s Sorrow,’ I discovered that Bel, this natural-born Inspector, still couldn’t shut down the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower.”

The Ant-man Empress used the power of her main body to recall the Alchemist from the Misty Mountains that Victor mentioned. After a long moment, She said, “The memory crystal from the Misty Mountains… you’re talking about Isocrates’s memory crystal, aren’t you? Hmm, Isocrates was the most brilliant alchemist in the Secret Order. One look at that Dragonkin handmaiden of yours and it’s clear he succeeded in solving the major flaw where alchemical units were shielded by the world’s Laws. Isocrates was involved in the construction of the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower… We had considered the possibility of the Ant-man race rebelling, so we set conditions to shut down the tower. Unfortunately, Isocrates never knew what happened between me and Maximo afterward… In short, the Elemental Rune Crystal for shutting down the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower lost its original function and became the divine artifact revered by the Assyrian Empire—‘Angelina’s Sorrow.’ I am telling you explicitly now, ‘Angelina’s Sorrow’ cannot shut down the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower.”

Victor nodded and continued, “The first Empress of the Assyrian Empire would certainly not have left herself such a fatal flaw. ‘Angelina’s Sorrow’ not only fails to shut down the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower, but it also possesses an indestructible quality, just like other Elemental Rune Crystals. So, with the spirit essence accumulated on Spirit-Devouring Island over so long, how much longer can you live without the Blood Sacrifices of the Assyrians?”

The Ant-man Empress would never reveal to Victor how much longer She had to live, and Victor didn’t expect an answer. He continued on his own, “A thousand years, several hundred… In any case, even without the spirits of the Assyrians as a supplement, your remaining lifespan far exceeds mine. I cannot destroy ‘Angelina’s Sorrow,’ so you could simply do nothing, wait for my life to end, and reclaiming the divine artifact would not be a difficult task for you.”

Victor stared at the Ant-man Empress, his gaze growing sharp as he asked in a low voice, “Time is on your side. Why are you in such a hurry to ally with me, even resorting to using the great secret of the Angelic Throne to tempt me?”

The difference in their lifespans was a matter of timescale. Logically, Victor should be the one in a hurry. The Ant-man Empress had at least several hundred years to slowly lay her groundwork; there was no reason to use the great secret of the Angelic Throne to trick Victor into handing over the divine artifact.

“Angelina’s Tear” was a condensation of the void element, and it was indestructible. Of course, even if Victor couldn’t destroy the Elemental Rune Crystal by force, he could still stir up some trouble for the Ant-man Empress. For example, he could toss it into the underworld, or stuff it into the belly of a large fish and let it swim freely throughout the vast waters of the Goldwater River.

However, these troubles were just that—troubles. As long as “Angelina’s Tear” did not unfurl its secret realm barrier, the Ant-man Empress could pinpoint the divine artifact’s exact location. With enough time, She would always be able to retrieve it. In fact, the Realm of All Spirits had already been torn apart by Beldina; the Assyrian Shamans could no longer use “Angelina’s Tear” to reopen the secret realm barrier. If they insisted on doing so, the Assyrian Shamans would have to organize a large-scale Blood Sacrifice to repair the Realm of All Spirits first. But that would, in turn, replenish the spirit essence on Spirit-Devouring Island where the Ant-man Empress resided, thus saving Her from the risk of withering away.

The Ant-man Empress had agreed to Beldina’s terms to release the more than one hundred thousand Assyrian descendants because there were still many Assyrian savages in the forest, outside the secret realm. They had been able to procreate and survive to this day entirely thanks to the secret protection of the ant swarms. In the Ant-man Empress’s plans, even if Her attempt to seize the power of the Lord of Radiance was thwarted, She could still use the divine artifact and the Assyrian savages to rebuild the Assyrian Empire, restore the Blood Sacrifices, and wait for a future opportunity.

Victor gently caressed the divine artifact in his palm, a faint smile on his lips. “You’re acting too rushed, which has exposed your weakness and allowed me to discover a way to restrain you. Just imagine, if I were to abandon my Alchemy Tower and my status as a human lord, ascend to become a Sun Elf, and take ‘Angelina’s Sorrow’ to the elven imperial capital, Aylanta, what could you do?”

Hearing this, the Ant-man Empress couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. “If Your Highness were to do that,” she replied, “you would be betraying the human kingdoms. The Radiant Church, in order to gain the immortal authority of the Angelic Thrones, and the Elementalist lords, in order to borrow the power of the twelve Radiant Angels to deal with the third demon invasion, would stop at nothing to retrieve the divine artifact from the hands of the elves.”

Victor paused briefly, then nodded. “Correct. The secret of the Radiant Angelic Thrones is itself a precious power, and many would fight to the death for an immortal throne. Unfortunately, only you possess the method to ascend to a throne. Once you have the divine artifact back, you will hold absolute control, while the role I can play is actually very small. That being the case, how can I possibly trust Her Majesty’s sincerity in this cooperation? Why don’t we try another method of cooperation? I’ll entrust ‘Angelina’s Sorrow’ to my lover, Sylvia, for safekeeping. What do you think? Oh, by the way, Sylvia is a Spirit Knight of this era. According to the ancient Alchemical Empire’s terms, she is a Supreme Elementalist…”

An invisible psionic force field instantly extinguished the whistling mountain wind, and the top floor of the Asoerta Temple fell into a suffocating silence.

Victor’s lips tightened, and a light glowed in his dark gold eyes. An even more violent gale immediately swept in. The turbulent airflow scraped against the psionic force field unfurled by the Ant-man Empress, and tiny arcs of electricity flickered, looking as though they could shatter the psionic barrier at any moment.

A current of air brushed past the Ant-man Empress’s shoulder. The clash of their powers showed that His Highness Randell had the upper hand; at the very least, the psionic power of the four-armed Ant-man could not completely block the flow of the wind element.

The Ant-man Empress retracted her psionic field and said in a deep voice, “Correct. A Supreme Elementalist requires no special technique to destroy an Elemental Rune Crystal. Although the Radiant Angelic Thrones are only effective for human mages, I cannot change the design of the Highest Council. But I believe that with the wisdom of a Supreme Elementalist, Sylvia would decide to cooperate with me. My only concern is that His Highness Randell would not give me a chance to communicate with the Supreme Elementalist and would simply urge her to destroy the divine artifact. And for me to stop a Sun Elf from breaking out would be a very difficult task.”

“Therefore, I must have the divine artifact!” At this point, the Ant-man Empress’s tone softened. “Actually, Your Highness has no need to worry that I will break my promise. Ascending to a Radiant Angelic Throne is my ultimate pursuit, and I only require a single throne. The Chosen One, Beldina, can occupy another Angelic Throne, and the remaining ten can be allocated by His Highness Randell and the Supreme Elementalist. Furthermore, I have a general knowledge of the locations of some ancient Alchemy Towers… The Rune Crystals from those surviving towers are useless to me, but they are very useful to Your Highness. You help me ascend to a Radiant Angelic Throne, and I will help Your Highness perfect your Alchemy Tower.”

Victor shook his head. “You don’t understand. The foundation of cooperation is mutual restraint. If I hand over the divine artifact, I lose my leverage over you. What good does it do me if you give me the right to allocate ten Angelic Thrones? Once those mages ascend to the Radiant Angelic Thrones, what leverage will Sylvia and I have over them? For all I know, Her Majesty may have her own means of restraining the other Radiant Angels. Even if you can’t, you still have a million Ant-men at your command. My Alchemy Tower, even at level ten, could not contend with the ant swarms. Do you think that is fair?”

The Ant-man Empress thought for a moment, her voice devoid of any inflection. “The divine artifact, I must have it. If Your Highness distrusts my desire for cooperation, then there is nothing left between us but to fight!”

By now, the swarm of Alchemical Flying Serpents had flown far away. Victor smiled and said, “Perhaps we can try another way. Beldina for me, the divine artifact for you.”

The Chosen One was the key for the Ant-man Empress to ascend to an Angelic Throne and obtain immortal power. “Angelina’s Sorrow” was the key to Her survival. Of course, She had to prioritize her survival, but His Highness Randell’s schemes always left Her feeling a trace of unease.

The Ant-man Empress thought carefully and realized Her anxiety stemmed from the strange events that occurred when the Realm of All Spirits was torn apart. Those platinum-gold chains, filled with a sacred aura, had not only harvested some of the realm’s spirit essence but had also prevented Beldina from transforming into the Chosen One. A thought suddenly struck Her, and She asked in surprise, “Your Highness Randell, you don’t intend to kill Beldina, do you?”

Victor’s expression grew indifferent. He said coldly, “I can’t guarantee I won’t. I cannot destroy an Elemental Rune Crystal created by the Alchemical Empire, but killing Beldina would be easy. Considering the special connection between the Gros Insectoids and the demons of the Abyss, if Her Majesty has other plans, I may be forced to sacrifice Beldina to prevent you from seizing the Lord of Radiance. I am not willing to harm Beldina, so I would prefer to return things to the starting point. I take Beldina, and you take back the divine artifact that belongs to you.”

The Ant-man Empress pressed, “And then? How can I convince Your Highness that I am not a claw of the Abyss demons? How can I complete the Alchemical Empire’s final God Creation Plan? The Radiant Archangels rely on the power of faith from human believers. If I ascend to a Radiant Angelic Throne, how could I possibly betray human believers? Without this safeguard, the Alchemist Councilors of the Highest Council would never have agreed to the God Creation Plan proposed by the Mages’ Association…”

“That is just your side of the story. I cannot risk the fate of the human kingdoms!”

Victor unceremoniously cut off the Ant-man Empress’s self-defense. He held up two fingers and said, “I have two demands. First, my subordinates will take Beldina and leave. I will stay behind. The ant swarm must not stop them. Once I have confirmed their safety, I will return the divine artifact to you. Second, I need to learn some things from you to verify your claims.”

The Ant-man Empress’s face adopted a thoughtful expression. After a moment, she said, “How can I be sure that once Beldina and the others have escaped the ant swarm’s tracking, Your Highness won’t just break out alone with the divine artifact? It would be very difficult for me to stop you. Therefore, I invite Your Highness to the underground ant nest. We will complete the exchange there.”

Victor scoffed. “If I go to the underground ant nest, my life and death would be out of my hands. Do you think I would agree to such a preposterous demand? I will remain here on the temple’s top floor. Don’t even think about making me change the location of our conversation.”

The Ant-man Empress first glanced back at the broken iron-chain drawbridge, then, after a moment of contemplation, she nodded. “Fine, I agree to Your Highness’s demands. But I also have two demands. First, I will summon my ant swarms to surround the temple to prevent Your Highness from breaking out with the divine artifact. Second, I have some questions about the current state of the human kingdoms that require Your Highness’s answers.”

Victor stared deeply into the eyes of the four-armed Ant-man, but deep down, he felt a wave of relief after his exhaustion.

Negotiating and maneuvering against the Ant-man Empress was more tiring than killing the Black Blood Sovereign.

Any normal person would never reveal a secret as momentous as the Radiant Angelic Thrones to their negotiating opponent, much less agree to such harsh terms as releasing hostages first before exchanging the divine artifact.

The Ant-man Empress was not human. Even if She was once a human female mage, She had now lost normal human emotions and common sense. When She revealed the secret of the Angelic Thrones, Victor remained outwardly composed, but inwardly he was trembling with unease. This matter introduced so many unforeseeable variables. Even in the ancient Alchemical Empire, the most powerful Archmages and Alchemists had failed. The wrestling match between the Gods of the Void and the demons of the Abyss was undoubtedly a factor. In the present era, demon lords and gods would inevitably be watching the progress of this matter. These extraordinary beings had unimaginable amounts of time to lay their groundwork in the shadows. How could Victor possibly step into such a dangerously unpredictable trap?

From another perspective, the fact that the Ant-man Empress was egging Victor on to jointly covet the authority of the Lord of Radiance made Her true identity highly suspect.

Since the Ant-man Empress was not human and yet coveted the protector deity of the human kingdoms, the Lord of Radiance, Victor was resolved to eliminate Her. Of course, Victor also hoped to protect his followers as best he could, which was precisely the human emotion the Ant-man Empress lacked. She believed that everyone aside from Beldina was inconsequential and projected this認知 onto Victor. In reality, if Narsen and the others were to die at the hands of the Ant-man Empress because of their liege lord’s decision, Victor would not regret it, but he would feel extraordinary pain.

Fortunately, the Ant-man Empress, misled by Victor’s words, had agreed to spare the surviving members of the Randell Expeditionary Force. Of course, Victor would not pin his hopes on the Ant-man Empress.

For Victor to completely eliminate the sovereign of the ant swarms, who had lived for over twenty thousand years, and escape safely with his subordinates was extremely challenging. It could be said to be the greatest problem Victor had ever faced.

To this end, Victor had made some arrangements in advance, but whether Narsen and the others could ultimately escape the pursuit of the ant swarms would depend on their luck.

That little one, Beldina, had never been short on good luck.

Victor nodded, agreeing to the two conditions proposed by the Ant-man Empress. A moment later, countless Ant-men and bizarre-looking insects poured out from within the temple. They climbed the temple steps, spreading out in a dense formation on every platform of the temple to prevent Victor from breaking through and escaping.

Victor acted as if he hadn’t seen the Ant-man Empress’s arrangements. He sat on the stone throne and said calmly, “Her Majesty, I’d like to first talk about what happened 1500 years ago.”

“…1500 years ago?”

“Yes! 1500 years ago, the Radiant Church experienced the Pantheon Uprising. The Chosen One, Claire, killed the Pope of that generation, and she herself was slain by a Radiant Archangel. The Radiant Church suffered a devastating blow, and the Pantheon was razed, but a Pantheon Wizard stole a sacred object of the barbarians from the Church’s collection and fled into the Endless Forest. A Paladin from the religious inquisition led a team of inquisitors to track the Wizard and arrived in the Assyrian Empire. They didn’t find the fugitive Wizard, but they did disrupt the blood sacrifice ritual of the Assyrian Wizard King… Her Majesty should be familiar with this event, correct?”

“I want to know, was that Pantheon Wizard captured by Her Majesty back then?”

Chapter 878: Bloodline Transformation Rune Formation

The four-armed Ant-man’s face was covered in a gelatinous carapace, incapable of the rich expressions of a human. The Ant-man Empress merely glanced at Victor, a hint of surprise in her gaze. She had thought this Alchemy Tower Master of special status would ask about the mystery of the ancient Alchemical Empire’s fall, not expecting him to first inquire about the uninvited guests who had trespassed into the Assyrian Empire over fifteen hundred years ago.

Victor, of course, had his reasons for first asking about the wizard who fled to the Endless Forest fifteen hundred years ago.

During that period, the Pantheon’s Archwizard Blair had, almost single-handedly, annihilated the elite clergy of the Radiant Church, thereby changing the course of history for the human kingdoms. The papal line, representing the commoner clergy, fell from its throne, while the Paladin families, representing the noble clergy, seized control of the Radiant Church. The sharp conflict between the knight-lords and the Holy See was resolved, and the various kingdoms established a new order where resident priests and titled nobles governed the populace together. The internal strife within the human kingdoms was greatly reduced, allowing them to accumulate strength and shift their military strategy against the beastmen tribes from defense to offense.

The impact of the Pantheon Uprising had a certain historical inevitability, but many details of the event remained unsolved mysteries. What Victor was certain of was that the Pope’s Great Divination had failed.

Great Divination was not invincible, but its position was undeniably extremely high. Even Victor, who occupied the position of a Sun Elf, wouldn’t want to be targeted by the Holy See’s Great Divination.

A divine art of this caliber wouldn’t fail for no reason. There were many possible reasons for its failure. For instance, the Pontiff performing the Great Divination on the Pope’s behalf could have betrayed him, with his divination intended to cause the Pope’s downfall. Or perhaps, a top-tier God-favored like Miller had secretly cast a spell, altering the result of the Great Divination.

Victor, however, smelled the scent of the Gods of the Void or a demon of the Abyss in this matter.

The Chosen One, Blair’s twin brother, Brian, had always been obscure. It wasn’t until the final, pitched battle that he revealed his extraordinary nature. His body transformed into a soul form and integrated with his sister, Claire, helping her obtain world-ending power to crush the elite clergy of the Holy See.

The transformation between body and soul—isn’t that a unique ability of the Gods of the Void?

If the masterminds behind the Pantheon Uprising were the Gods of the Void, They should have been able to distort the Great Divination of the Pope or Pontiff.

Extraordinary beings like the Gods of the Void and demon lords possessed inconceivable powers. The sudden demise of the Alchemical Empire, the rise and fall of the Assyrians, the Blood Sacrifice War of the Chosen, the Pantheon Uprising, and even the births of Victor and Beldina were all connected to them. However, due to the difference in time scales, it’s difficult for mortals to find the traces they’ve left in the history of the world’s evolution, let alone track their shadowy plans.

For example, even if Victor transformed into a Sun Elf, a long-lived species with a lifespan of over three hundred years, the Gods of the Void could simply wait for him to perish naturally before proceeding with the next step of their plan.

Only an ancient being like the Ant-man Empress could see through the true nature of the Gods of the Void and the demon lords.

The Pantheon Uprising of over fifteen hundred years ago was the closest intersection of information between Victor and the Ant-man Empress. As for other historical events, they were too distant in time. Victor could only listen to the Ant-man Empress’s side of the story, with no way to verify the truth of her words.

Fortunately, historical developments leave tracks. By conversing with the Ant-man Empress and learning the details surrounding the Pantheon Uprising, Victor was capable of fitting the Blood Sacrifice War of the Chosen, and even the mystery of the Alchemical Empire’s fall, into his own knowledge jigsaw puzzle.

“Your Majesty is aware of the Radiant Church and knows something of the situation in the human kingdoms. I believe that over fifteen hundred years ago, you intercepted that Pantheon wizard who was being hunted by the Inquisition, correct?” Victor pressed again.

The Ant-man Empress nodded. “My memory of that event over fifteen hundred years ago is quite hazy… His Highness Randell will have to be more specific with his questions.”

The Ant-man Empress, being similar to a Tower Spirit, was unlikely to have forgotten something from fifteen hundred years ago. Victor knew She was testing him. After a moment’s thought, he said, “As far as I know, that wizard’s name was Malph. He was once one of the leaders of the Pantheon organization, but I don’t know what kind of magic he specialized in.”

After a pause, the Ant-man Empress said, “Malph… hmm, I remember now. He was a short, middle-aged man. His magic level was pitifully low, barely a third-circle mage. However, his spell system was impressive. It was a casting circle built entirely around his innate spell—simple, effective, and capable of producing the effect of a fifth-circle spell using just ten breaths’ worth of mana. Otherwise, as a mere third-circle mage, Malph could never have crossed the Endless Forest alone to reach the territory of the Assyrian Empire.”

Victor corrected her. “In the Era of the Chosen City-states, the Pantheon wizards were accustomed to calling themselves Warlocks; they emphasized innate spellcasting. I estimate Malph was a fifth-level Warlock, which would make him a relatively powerful spellcaster.”

The Ant-man Empress replied contemptuously, “Malph told me a few things about the Era of the Chosen, including about the Pantheon’s Warlocks. In the Alchemical Empire, those Warlocks were nothing more than Rogue Wizards rejected by the various mage academies—not worth mentioning.”

Victor didn’t want to get sidetracked on the topic of the Alchemical Empire’s magic legacy. He asked directly, “How did this Malph fall into your hands?”

The Ant-man Empress paused, then continued, “He surrendered voluntarily. He killed a few Assyrian hunters in the forest and used their bodies to perform a special ritual to communicate directly with my main consciousness. I was very surprised at the time, as no mage had called upon my main consciousness for a very long time. I even thought The Alchemical Empire’s Highest Council had sent someone to contact me again. However, Malph knew nothing of the once-glorious Alchemical Empire. He told me he had accidentally obtained an ancient memory crystal, from which he learned the secret of a spirit-summoning ritual. He regarded me as a deity and hoped to receive my protection.”

Victor frowned to himself. It had already been verified through Beldina that wizards could decipher the memory crystals of the ancient Alchemical Empire. But a wizard like Malph, fifteen hundred years ago, used an ancient memory crystal to find the nearly-forgotten Ant-man Empress and seek her protection?

Such a coincidence defied basic logic.

“That Malph was lying,” Victor interjected, his tone and expression confident.

The Ant-man Empress asked with a smile, “And why does Your Highness believe Malph was lying to me?”

“Explaining this is a bit complicated. Simply put, it’s impossible for a rogue warlock to undo the earth element seal of an Alchemy Tower and retrieve the memory crystal hidden inside. It’s not out of the question that a few memory crystals might be circulating outside, but if so, these crystals, which resemble ancient treasures, would most likely have been collected by the Radiant Church. After all, the Radiant Church is the greatest successor to both the Pantheon’s Warlocks and the Council’s Mages. It would be more reasonable if Malph obtained an ancient memory crystal from within the Church. In that case, he himself would belong to the Church’s faction.”

Alternatively, Malph might not have had an ancient memory crystal at all. Perhaps a Whisperer—one of the Gods of the Void or a demon lord—told him the Ant-man Empress’s secret, using an ancient memory crystal as a cover.

This second scenario was the most likely, and it led to a terrible conclusion. There was no way to prove whether Malph had lied or not, as he was long dead. But it was unlikely he could have successfully deceived the ancient Ant-man Empress. Assuming the Ant-man Empress knew the whole truth and was now concealing things from Victor, or even deliberately misleading him, could it mean that the wizard Malph from fifteen hundred years ago was merely a pawn, a go-between? And that the Whisperer hiding behind Malph had used him to reach some kind of consensus with the Ant-man Empress?

Victor said faintly, “There’s a problem with Malph’s identity. The real Pantheon was destroyed by the Radiant Church over nine thousand years ago. In reality, Malph was using the Pantheon’s name as a front. He was a spellcaster secretly cultivated by the Radiant Church.”

The Ant-man Empress wasn’t too surprised by Victor’s answer. She only pressed, “Fifteen hundred years ago, His Highness Randell had not yet been born. How could you know Malph’s true identity?”

Victor said dismissively, “I’ve browsed through the documents and records collected by the Radiant Church, so I know Malph’s true identity.”

He was lying. The Church’s secret documents were hidden only in the treasuries of the Seven Great Paladin Families. The records the Church made available to the public contained nothing about Malph.

However, Victor believed his judgment was closer to the truth. Malph, from fifteen hundred years ago, was indeed one of the Pope’s men, and he had certainly been swayed by a Whisperer. This was because the great lords among humans had a habit of keeping wizards in their service, and the Church was the largest faction to do so. During that period, the papal line still held the authority of the Church, so it was perfectly logical for Malph to swear fealty to the Pope. After the Pope’s inexplicable demise, the wizard Malph, now without a master, faced a purge from the Paladin families. It would have been easy for him to fall under a Whisperer’s influence. Thus, he stole a treasure from the Church’s collection and fled to the distant Asoerta Mountains to seek out the ancient being forgotten by humanity—Angelina, the sovereign of the ant swarms.

The Ant-man Empress nodded. “Malph told me he was originally the adopted son of Pope Carter, a secret servant of the Lord of Radiance. On the Pope’s orders, he and several allies formed the Pantheon with the goal of striking down a group of corrupt lords, clergy, and wizards. In the beginning, with the help of Malph and a few other mage followers, Pope Carter gathered evidence of the corruption of titled nobles, as well as a minority of the clergy, and then successfully established the religious inquisition. But with the rise of the Archwizard Blair, Malph and the other Church wizards gradually lost control of the Pantheon. As the power of the Blair siblings was unmatched, the Pantheon gradually became a wizard organization that both lords and clergy feared. So, Pope Carter decided to personally intervene and deal with the Blair siblings and their Pantheon.”

“Malph lured the Blair siblings and the key members of the Pantheon into a pre-arranged trap. He didn’t participate in the pitched battle himself, but he never expected that Pope Carter and the Blair siblings would perish together. Immediately after, the corrupt Paladin families seized the opportunity to usurp the Holy See’s power and began to purge Pope Carter’s followers, which included Malph and his few companions.”

“Pope Carter’s secret mages were brutally killed one after another by the Paladins’ blades. With nowhere left to run, Malph could only follow the information in the memory crystal and flee to the Endless Forest. He came to the Assyrian Empire, captured a few Assyrian hunters, and performed the ritual to call upon my will…”

Wizards and Whisperers share a resonance with the Law that is difficult to sever, and the Warlocks of the Pantheon were particularly adept at acquiring magical knowledge from this resonance with the Whisperers. As a wizard follower secretly cultivated by Pope Carter, Malph must have possessed unwavering faith. But after Pope Carter’s death, he traveled thousands of miles to find the Ant-man Empress, a being akin to an evil god. This act was enough to prove that he had forsaken his faith in the Lord of Radiance.

A Whisperer had certainly influenced the wizard Malph, because communication between wizards and Whisperers was something Outsiders could neither spy on nor prevent.

Yet the Ant-man Empress never mentioned the Whisperers, instead attributing Malph’s unusual flight to the Endless Forest to the ancient memory crystal.

Regardless of why the Ant-man Empress was avoiding the topic of the Whisperers, the last shred of possibility for Victor to cooperate with Her was gone. He pondered for a moment before asking, “Why did Malph come to you?”

The corners of the Ant-man Empress’s mouth curved up in a mysterious smile. “For knowledge.”

“Don’t forget, I was once Angelina, an Archmage of the Alchemical Empire, privy to the magical knowledge of the Mages’ Association. Even though I’ve transformed into a spirit and can no longer cast spells, my knowledge of magic is still a precious treasure. A Rogue Wizard like Malph would willingly take risks to pursue the mysteries of magic.”

What the Ant-man Empress said seemed reasonable, but it lacked any substance.

Victor demanded, dissatisfied, “You’re trying to fool me! Malph was being hunted by the Inquisition, yet he fled from the human kingdoms to the distant Assyrian Empire to ask Your Majesty about the mysteries of Alchemical Empire magic? On what basis could he get you to grant his request?”

The Ant-man Empress raised one arm, extending an index finger. “Malph brought a token of trust, proving he was my ally.”

“A token of trust? An ally?”

Victor folded his arms across his chest, his brow furrowed. “Historical documents record that during the Era of the Chosen, ten thousand years ago, the city-state wizards were primarily divided into two factions: the Mage Council and the Pantheon. The Mage Council’s Archmage Andrew invented a Blood Sacrifice ritual that could help the offspring of ordinary Mages gain magical power. The Blood Sacrifice War thus began in secret. The wizards of the human city-states first targeted the beastmen. After the various beastmen were driven away, the Dragons, rulers of the sky, and the Barbarians suffered. Then, the wizards of the two factions turned their sights on the elven city-states, leading to a complete break between the Elves and humans. At the end of the Blood Sacrifice War, the Elves retreated to the Endless Forest, and a brutal civil war broke out between the Council and the Pantheon.”

“The populace of the various city-states became sacrifices in the Blood Sacrifice War. The first Pope, Inoc, sounded the horn of rebellion to overthrow the tyranny of the Chosen. The Radiant Church rose up in the remote south, conquering several city-states one after another. Unfortunately, the Church’s power was still weak at the time. It was the Mage Council that helped Inoc spread the faith of the Lord of Radiance, allowing him to gain a firm foothold in the south. Relying on the power of faith, the Church’s clergy grew like a rolling snowball, their power expanding ever larger. They joined forces with the Mage Council’s army to defeat the main forces of the Pantheon’s Warlocks.”

“The Pantheon’s main forces were annihilated by the combined armies of the Church and the Council. The remaining Warlocks gathered in the north. They secretly formed an army, entered the Arreat Plateau, and snatched a sacred object from the hands of the barbarians and Mountain Dwarves. Then, forcing the city-state populace to join them, they migrated south, forded the Goldwater River, and fled to the Southern Continent.”

“However, Pope Inoc personally intercepted the Pantheon’s remnant army at the banks of the Goldwater River. A Knight family from the Pantheon surrendered to the Church and presented a component of the barbarian sacred object. This component has been in the Church’s collection ever since, but historical documents have no record of it, and I didn’t know why the Pantheon remnants would want to steal the barbarians’ sacred object. Until over fifteen hundred years ago, when Malph stole the sacred object’s component from the Church and brought it to your fief.”

“The component of the sacred object was the token of trust.”

After listening to Victor’s account, the Ant-man Empress gave a reserved nod. “The so-called barbarian sacred object has a formal name: the Bloodline-Gathering and Transformation Rune Formation.”

“In the middle period of the Alchemical Empire, the demons of the Abyss invaded the Prime Material Plane for the second time. The demons tore open an Abyssal Chasm on the Arreat Plateau, and the demon lord created a no-magic zone around the Great Chasm on the plateau. In that area, mages’ spellcasting abilities were suppressed to their lowest, and even the Gods of the Void could not leave their perfect bodies. If they were killed in the no-magic zone, they would truly die. Relying on this no-magic zone, the demons of the Abyss were nearly unbeatable. So, the Gods of the Void taught the Art of Void Creation to the Empire, hoping to defeat the demonic invaders with alchemical creatures.”

“The Alchemical Empire, allied with the elves and barbarians, fought a thousand-year war and finally drove the demons back to the Abyss, but the Great Chasm on the Arreat Plateau remained. To prevent the demons of the Abyss from returning, the Empire’s Highest Council used the blood of an Ancient Behemoth—the Ancestor God of the Mountain Peaks—to create the barbarian race. These powerful non-humans have guarded the Arreat Plateau for generations, responsible for monitoring the Abyssal Chasm.”

“Of course, relying on the barbarians alone to guard the Abyssal Chasm was not enough. So, the Highest Council reached an agreement with the Elven Empire. The king of the Mountain Dwarves dispatched a dwarven tribe to guard the Arreat Plateau alongside the barbarians.”

“However, the dwarves were accustomed to relying on the Sun Tree, the Moon Tree, and the Moonlight Well to enhance the Hill Dwarf bloodline and prevent the power of their bloodline from weakening. The king of the Mountain Dwarves demanded that the Elven Empire plant a Moonlight Tree on the Arreat Plateau; otherwise, he would not send his subjects there.”

“The priestesses of the Elven Royal Court tried multiple times to plant a Moonlight Tree on the Arreat Plateau, but every attempt failed without exception. Therefore, the Great Alchemists and Archmages of the Highest Council worked together to create a Bloodline-Gathering and Transformation Rune Formation to substitute for the Elves’ Moonlight Tree and Moonlight Well.”

“The principle behind that rune formation is very complex. To put it simply, it has the function of collecting the bloodlines of the dead and purifying them into atavistic blood. When the Mountain Dwarves and barbarians died and were buried within the rune formation’s domain, the formation would automatically collect the power of their bloodlines and feed it back to newborns, producing a domain effect similar to that of a Moonlight Tree.”

“In fact, the Bloodline-Gathering and Transformation Rune Formation can also collect and purify different types of Ancestor God blood. For example, by performing a sacrificial ritual and killing a large number of Goblins, the rune formation can purify Fey blood. However, the purified Ancestor God blood is not true legacy blood. It’s like the Assyrians’ Fountain of Youth—it has a time limit, but it’s sufficient. Because the Bloodline-Gathering and Transformation Rune Formation can continuously produce atavistic blood.”

Victor came to a sudden realization and said in astonishment and doubt, “The remnants of the Pantheon’s Warlocks stole the barbarian sacred object, forced commoners to flee with them to the Southern Continent… were they planning to use the Bloodline Transformation Rune Formation to create non-human guards similar to the barbarians?”

The Ant-man Empress said faintly, “The racial talent of primordial humans is indeed inferior to that of elves and barbarians. The Pantheon’s Warlocks wanting to create a batch of powerful non-human guards to establish a foothold on the Southern Continent is a reasonable assumption. But I believe the Pantheon Warlocks had other ideas.”

Victor was startled, his gaze flickering. He asked in a low voice, “What powerful races exist on the continent south of the Goldwater River?”

The Ant-man Empress chuckled softly. “My guess is the Dragon race… I’m afraid the Pantheon Warlocks wanted to use the Bloodline Transformation Rune Formation to seek the protection of the Dragons.”

“So that’s how it is… I understand now,” Victor murmured.

Back then, the Pantheon’s Warlocks fought desperately to seize the rune formation from the barbarians and Mountain Dwarves, and their remaining forces suffered heavy losses; this was perhaps at the instigation of the Dragons. And it was precisely because of the Dragons’ protection that the Mage Council and the Radiant Church hesitated, allowing the remnants of the Pantheon to migrate south. Pope Inoc had a showdown with the Pantheon’s defeated remnants at the Goldwater River, but he failed to stop them from crossing. Only the powerful Dragons could have held back Inoc’s Radiant Archangels. However, a Knight family of the Pantheon chose to defect to the Church, handing over a key component of the rune formation to Inoc. The Dragons’ scheme fell short at the last moment.

So many years had passed. The Dragons’ bloodline must have degenerated terribly. It was questionable whether the current Dragons could even fly. They shouldn’t pose a significant threat to the Gambis Kingdom’s army of southern expansion.

Victor breathed a secret sigh of relief and said probingly, “The component for the Bloodline Transformation Rune Formation is useless to you, I assume.”

The Ant-man Empress nodded. “The Bloodline Transformation Rune Formation is useless to the ant swarms. Malph wanted to obtain from me the method to repair the rune formation; he planned to take the component to the Southern Continent to try his luck. By bringing a component of the rune formation made by the pioneers of the Empire, he proved his identity… In my eyes, Malph could be considered a successor to the Alchemical Empire’s Mages’ Association. And from him, I obtained what I wanted most.”

“…News that the Highest Council’s God Creation Plan had succeeded.” The Ant-man Empress’s gaze was profound as she spoke. “And also, the Paladins who had tracked Malph all the way to the Assyrian Empire.”

Victor cut in, “And so, you secretly orchestrated the great cataclysm of the Assyrian Empire, using the Paladins’ hand to release the Black Blood Sovereign.”

The Ant-man Empress crossed her arms and sighed. “At that time, the Black Blood Sovereign in the Realm of All Spirits was suffocating me. Rather than sit by and watch Her devour my Spirit-Devouring Island, it was better to release Her ahead of time. In any case, the Radiant Church is hostile to evil gods and Devils, and the Black Blood Sovereign is a great lord-level demon. But I never expected that I would have to wait a full fifteen hundred years for His Highness Randell to appear and deal with the Black Blood Sovereign.”

Victor couldn’t help but look chagrined. The ancestor Paladin Trigovar disrupted the Assyrian Wizard King’s blood sacrifice ritual, releasing the Black Blood Sovereign. All his subordinates were sacrificed, and he himself was gravely injured. If the Ant-man race had allowed the Assyrian Shamans to hunt down the Paladin Trigovar at that time, he would never have had the chance to escape back to the human kingdoms. It was obvious that the Ant-man Empress had sent high-ranking ants to block the Assyrian Empire’s pursuers, helping the Paladin Trigovar bring news of the Black Blood Sovereign back to the Radiant Church.

Although the Radiant Church never sent clergy to vanquish the Black Blood Sovereign in the end, the Ant-man Empress had made preparations for two contingencies. On one hand, She ordered the ant swarms to explore and forage to the east, continuously harassing the human kingdoms in the hope of luring the Radiant Church over. On the other hand, She also tricked the descendants of the Assyrian Empire into creating a perfect body for the Black Blood Sovereign. Once the Black Blood Sovereign broke free from the shackles of the Realm of All Spirits, the Ant-man Empress’s existential crisis would be resolved. Victor could imagine that She would then guide the Black Blood Sovereign into a conflict with the Radiant Church, achieving Her ultimate goal of seizing an Angelic Throne amidst the chaos.

“I have one more question.” Victor composed his slightly dejected mood and asked again, “What was Malph’s fate?”

The Ant-man Empress answered casually, “That little fellow brought me hope, so I gave him a reward and helped him cross the river. As for what he encountered on the Southern Continent, I have no idea. In any case, he has long since turned to dust.”

Victor didn’t press further. He secretly linked his mind with his three Dragonkin handmaidens and sent a message: “Abandon plan one. Execute plan two. Ready the rafts. Wait for my signal to act!”

Chapter 879: Aka’s Premonition

Just as Victor and the Ant-man Empress were conversing, Narsen, Charlotte, and the others were being led by the Dragonoid Ripper Mewen on a trek south along the ancient forest on the western side of the Asoerta Mountains.

It was the end of the Season of Fire and the beginning of the Season of Wind. The annual monsoon blew from the east, only to be blocked by the majestic and perilous Asoerta Mountains. The shadow of the mountains draped over the ancient forest belt, leaving it quiet, deep, and unchanged for a thousand years.

The Aberrant Dire Bear raised by Imoson the Wizard trod on the humus-covered forest floor without making much sound. It was even larger now, with a shoulder height of over four meters, a body length of seven meters, and a weight of six tons. Burly muscles formed knotted lines under its gray fur, and four gleaming white tusks shaped like antlers protruded from its mouth. Bone spurs jutted out from its spine.

This Biological Aberration, resembling both a wild boar and a bear, had become a standard giant monster. Fortunately, the towering ancient trees in the forest were spaced far apart, so the Aberrant Dire Bear, whose size was comparable to a wild elephant, didn’t feel constrained moving through it. However, the giant aberrant bear was unsuitable for riding, so Imosen had draped a dragnet over its body. Anyone in the team who grew tired could cling to the net to rest their feet.

Being dragged along by the Aberrant Dire Bear was certainly not a pleasant experience, but it was still more energy-efficient than traveling only on two legs.

Imosen gripped the net’s ropes tightly with both hands. He turned his head and saw Father Dayne dozing off in the back-chair on Aka’s back, and muttered with no small amount of jealousy, “We haven’t slept for three days and two nights. We need rest…”

Spellcasters were supposed to receive preferential treatment, and Imoson the Wizard was the expeditionary force’s main combat power among its three spellcasters. He only dared to complain softly, afraid that His Highness Randell’s Dragonkin handmaiden, Mewen, would hear him.

Although the Dragonkin handmaiden Mewen was stunningly beautiful, she had dragon horns on her head and was wreathed in an imposing aura. Wherever she passed, birds fell silent and beasts went into hiding. Aside from Beldina, everyone else in the party kept a respectful distance from Mewen and her sisters. Especially when Mewen led the party onward with a blank expression, Imosen felt a sense of fear that weighed on his mind.

As long as Mewen didn’t call for a rest, the entire team maintained a forced march, simply grabbing some food and water along the way when hungry or thirsty. In three days and two nights, they had covered nearly one thousand kilometers, equivalent to a marching speed of over three hundred kilometers per day.

Some adult wolves could migrate for a thousand kilometers at a time, but humans were not wolves. Such a high-intensity forced march had already exceeded the physical limits of some members of the Randall expedition team. For instance, the sword-wielding handmaidens raised by the House of Randell lacked this kind of stamina. Having undergone body reconstruction only once and neglecting his practice of the secret arts, Imoson the Wizard was even worse off than the handmaidens.

However, Father Dayne’s divine Restoration Art and Beldina’s Touch of Chaos could alleviate fatigue and continuously restore one’s physical strength and vigor. It had to be said that the priest’s Restoration Art was a most remarkable divine art. With Dayne and Beldina’s help, even the weakest sword-wielding handmaidens surpassed their physical limits, ensuring they didn’t slow down the whole team’s advance.

Imosen’s Aberrant Beasts weren’t qualified to enjoy enhancements from divine arts or spells. His painstakingly raised aberrant cat-apes were not known for their stamina and had long since been left behind. Meanwhile, the Aberrant Dire Bear had to devour hundreds of pounds of fresh flesh and blood daily. With no time to go out and hunt, it fed on its master’s Horned Lizard Raiders, swallowing at least one a day.

Because the Aberrant Dire Bear had absorbed the power of the bloodline from other Biological Aberrations, its degree of Aberration developed rapidly. Its body grew ever larger, demanding more flesh and blood to sustain itself. In a few more days, one Horned Lizard Raider would no longer satisfy the bear’s appetite; it might need to eat two or three a day. Once it had eaten all of its master’s aberrant Horned Lizard-beasts, it would soon starve to death.

Its current frame was simply too massive, and it was about to lose its ability to hunt for itself. The noise it made when moving would cause nearby animals to flee in advance; it probably couldn’t even catch a rabbit. Even if it managed to catch some prey by luck, it would be difficult to satisfy its increasingly ravenous appetite. Without enough flesh and blood for food, giant Biological Aberrations would die in a short time. Their carcasses would then attract other creatures to feed, eventually giving rise to new species.

The larger the body, the larger the appetite, and the more difficult the hunt—Biological Aberrations often died of hunger. In contrast, small and medium-sized predators found it easier to survive.

This was precisely the world’s natural law limiting Biological Aberrations, a phenomenon Imoson the Wizard called the ‘Aberration Threshold’.

The Aberrant Dire Bear was fast approaching its Aberration Threshold. Imosen didn’t mind being a little tired himself, but the thought of losing all his Aberrant Beasts was agonizing.

Without any Aberrant Beasts at his command, Imosen was like a tiger that had lost its claws and fangs. He finally couldn’t hold back anymore. “I’m exhausted! I demand we rest here, at least long enough for me to gather my lost aberrant cat-apes.”

Unfortunately, the Dragonkin handmaiden Mewen didn’t even spare him a glance, simply striding forward on her long, smooth legs.

Being ignored, Imosen didn’t know whether to feel relieved or angry, and the courage he had finally mustered vanished. As he sulked, a snow-white, crystalline wooden staff was offered to him from the side.

“Dad, if you’re tired, hold my staff. I’ll help you replenish your strength and restore your spirit.”

It was Beldina. The stunningly beautiful young Shamaness was dressed in a white robe, sitting sideways on the back of the Savage Warhound “White Bread.” Her small feet, clad in straw sandals, dangled and swung. Her tone was filled with concern, and her bright eyes showed a hint of eagerness to show off her skills, making her seem charmingly naive and cute.

Ever since she mastered the Touch of Chaos, Beldina had become obsessed with playing the role of an elven priestess. She used a Psionic spell to transform the painted dress given to her by the Queen of Asoerta into a pristine white robe. A common wooden stick she had picked up from who-knows-where was transformed into a crystalline staff. No one knew if this staff truly held any magical power, but it certainly looked extraordinary. Dressed in a white robe and holding a white staff, Beldina truly resembled a beautiful forest fairy. Even her pet, “White Bread,” was thriving.

Bel drew on the spirit essence from the Realm of All Spirits as her source of magic, allowing her to lavishly use her Psionic spells. She cast the Touch of Chaos on the Savage Bear-Dog once or twice every day. “White Bread” was now two sizes larger than an ordinary tiger, its fur as white and smooth as silk without a single fleck of another color. It was graceful and exceptionally intelligent, able to understand human speech and seemingly having a telepathic link with Beldina.

Beldina rode her pet every day, calling herself the “forest fairy who rides a white wolf.”

Imosen was very curious to find out what “White Bread” had been transformed into by the spell, but his innate Wizardry no longer had any effect on the Savage Bear-Dog.

It was a mentally and physically taxing process for a Wizard to modify a Biological Aberration, and failure was common. Yet his precious daughter merely wished for her pet to become stronger, prettier, and smarter, and after petting it every day, “White Bread” truly changed.

Such was the gap between a Chosen One and a God-favored. Even as her father, Imosen felt a little dejected. But Beldina was his precious daughter, after all. Imosen’s face broke into a smile as he accepted her kind offer. He grasped the staff, which looked as if it were crafted from the finest white-glazed rock, and felt a cool sensation flow into his body, washing away the soreness in his muscles and soothing his inner anxiety.

“Thank you, Bel. Well done.”

Hearing her father’s praise, the little fairy riding the white wolf was quite pleased. She raised her slightly rounded chin and asked the others, “Anyone else need my help? Aka, are you tired? I can help restore your strength…”

“Aka is not tired…”

“No! You’re tired. You must be tired….”

With Beldina, the life of the party, enlivening the atmosphere, the members of the Randall expedition team didn’t find the journey tedious. Night fell, and the ancient forest was plunged into darkness. The Dragonkin handmaiden Mewen finally stopped and let the team rest where they were.

“No fires! You only rest for five quarter-hours. When the time is up, I will lead you on. Anyone who can’t keep up will be left behind,” Mewen said coldly.

The group, who had been preparing to make camp, was stunned. Narsen, however, spoke with a grim expression, “Everyone, follow Lady Mewen’s arrangements. I can sense a large swarm of the Ant-man race tracking us in the forest. Our situation is very dangerous. Please, hurry and get some rest.”

With the commander’s personal order, the dozen or so sword-wielding handmaidens immediately took action. They quickly took care of their personal needs and then lay down on the forest floor to sleep. Although the ground of the ancient forest was covered with a thick layer of humus and had a particularly foul smell, making it an unsuitable place for sleeping, the meticulously trained sword-wielding handmaidens of the House of Randell weren’t picky. Falling asleep quickly in most environments was a required skill for them, and deep sleep was undoubtedly the fastest way to recover physical strength and vigor, more effective than any divine art or Wizardry.

The Knights and Ferocious warriors in the troop didn’t need to rush to rest; a forced march of this intensity hadn’t yet pushed them to their limits. Imoson the Wizard and Father Dayne, however, couldn’t sleep. They all gathered around Mewen, wanting to know the plan ahead.

Dayne rubbed his sore cervical vertebrae and asked, “Lady Mewen, can you now tell us what arrangements My lord Earl has made?”

Mewen glanced around, then nodded and said, “My King tasked me with leading you out of danger. My King asked me to relay a few things to you…”

“First, the Ant-man Empress is a special and powerful spirit entity. She is nearly impossible to destroy, but She can be sealed. My King has already mastered the method to seal the Ant-man Empress, and he has decided to do so.”

“Second, the Ant-man Empress is preparing to capture My King. Before She can complete Her preparations, My King will move to seal Her forever. The official confrontation between My King and the Ant-man Empress could be a month from now, or it could be the very next moment.”

“Furthermore, once My King begins sealing the Ant-man Empress, the Ant-man race will most likely launch a frenzied attack against him, and against us. My King has the ability to escape their pursuit, but most of you do not and will be torn to shreds by the crazed Ant-man race. So…”

The Dragonkin handmaiden gave a cold smile and continued, “The weak must reach the designated location at the specified time, or they will die.”

“No! I object! I object!”

Beldina leaped off her pet mount, hopping mad as she shouted, “Tutor Angelina is a good person! I’ll go beg Master not to seal her…”

“Miss Beldina!” Father Dayne suddenly barked, startling Bel into silence. The priest walked over, his expression softening, but he bowed with great solemnity and said, “Respected Saint, please forgive my offense. I wish to tell you that Angelina is not human, but a true evil god. She is skilled in deception and lacks human emotions. You must not believe Her lies.”

Bel didn’t know how she had become a ‘Saint’ in Dayne’s eyes, nor did she understand what a Saint was. She blinked her large, bright eyes and said in confusion, “But, I don’t think Tutor Angelina lied to me.”

Dayne looked at Beldina and said sternly, “She once called Herself the Lord of Sorrow and used lies to trick us into releasing the demon lord from the Realm of All Spirits. Many of our allies died because of that, don’t you remember? Also, His Highness Randell said the Ant-man Empress is preparing to capture him. His Highness is using himself as bait to get the Ant-man Empress to let us go for now. But even though His Highness took a huge risk to buy us this chance to escape, the Ant-man Empress’s claws are still following us. Do you think these Ant-men are here to protect us? An evil god is not to be trusted. You must understand this. Otherwise, people here will die, and that could even include His Highness Randell!”

Beldina’s loyalties ultimately lay with her master, and besides, what Father Dayne said was all true. She didn’t dare to cause any more trouble and shrank back to My Lady Charlotte’s side. White Bread sensed his young master’s feelings, nudged his large head over, and licked her slightly pale cheek with his bright red tongue.

Imoson the Wizard nudged Dayne with his elbow and asked with a waggling eyebrow, “How did Bel become a Saint?”

The God-favored of the Lord of Radiance were essentially Wizards, and even the first Pope Inoc was no exception. The Church called such Wizards ‘natural-born Saints.’ Father Dayne had sensed a vast and pure holy power within Beldina. It was precisely this holy power that sealed the spirit essence of the Realm of All Spirits deep within her soul. In Dayne’s view, Beldina was a true Saint, one who shouldered the noble mission of building the Divine Kingdom of Radiance.

But this was something Father Dayne could never say out loud, at least not openly tell others that the God-favored of the Lord of Radiance were also Wizards.

“Let’s discuss this matter when we return to the Randell Fief,” Dayne sighed, explaining vaguely to Imosen. “In any case, there are no precepts in the Radiant Code against Wizards. Our enemies have always been the evil gods. A Wizard who rejects the temptation of an evil god can also receive Redemption.”

“May the Supreme Lord of Radiance never forsake us and always guide our Path,” Imosen murmured in a prayer filled with joy.

Charlotte turned her head and asked Mewen in a soft voice, “Master wants us to reach the designated location as soon as possible. Where is that?”

Mewen answered, “The southernmost tip of the Asoerta Mountains, on the banks of the Goldwater River. My two sisters, Dili and Fugerui, along with Reno, Shak, and dozens of Mind Warriors are waiting for us there.”

Knight Brandon’s eyes lit up, and he exclaimed in admiration, “The banks of the Goldwater River? Master intends for us to take a boat and drift downstream… What a brilliant idea!”

The Ferocious warrior Rogers looked at his good friend Klaus, confused, hoping for a clearer explanation.

Knight Klaus chimed in, “The body structure of the Ant-man race isn’t suited for swimming. If we go home by land, they’ll easily catch up to us. By boat, we can go straight downstream to Port Rose in the Randell Fief. Even if a hastily built boat can’t go far, we can at least cross to the south bank of the Goldwater River. The Ant-man race, covered in carapaces, will be helpless against us then.”

Imoson the Wizard, however, frowned and said, “What about the Fishmen tribes on the banks of the Goldwater River? I can’t even deal with those stupid fish-heads. Their memories are worse than an Ogre’s. I doubt they’ll let us pass.”

Brandon clapped the Wizard on the shoulder and said with a grin, “Besides having bad memories, Fishmen are also timid. We have three Dragon Ladies. With just one glare from them, the Fishmen will scatter in fear. It’ll only take us a moment to get into the river and row the boat to deep water. Fishmen don’t dare to pursue into deep water. So, Your Excellency Imosen, stop worrying about your aberrant cat-apes. Let them all go and try to control some aquatic beasts instead.”

Imosen said with a gloomy face, “Then my big bear won’t make it either.”

“Bring it to the riverbank. It might be of some use there,” Mewen said faintly.

Charlotte asked again, “Are you saying that the Ant-men tracking us will follow us all the way to the Goldwater River to stop us from boarding the boats and leaving?”

Mewen nodded, her gaze shifting to the rear of the party. The massive figure of Groth Broodmother Ann was faintly visible in the darkness. She had been following behind the Randall expedition team and was under Victor’s protection; otherwise, she would have been killed by the War Ant King at the Asoerta settlement.

“The ant swarms use pheromones to track their targets. The Ant-man Empress suddenly letting us go free was all part of My King’s clever design, but the swarm has certainly left pheromones on us. However, Beldina’s Touch of Chaos can remove the pheromones, but doing so would be meaningless. That’s because the high-ranking ants can track the Groth Broodmother. As long as we have Ann with us, the ant swarms can find us,” Mewen said.

Charlotte raised an eyebrow and said softly, “Ann can also mislead the ant swarms and make them chase in the wrong direction. His Highness must have a thorough plan for having Ann follow us.”

Mewen lifted her chin and said arrogantly, “Ann has a much deeper significance to My King. I have no need to tell you.”

“Then let her continue to follow,” Narsen stepped forward and asked in a low voice, “I just want to know how My lord Victor can get away safely. Is there anything we can do for him?”

Mewen snorted and said, “Commander, don’t overestimate yourself. You don’t need to worry about My King’s safety. Once I get you to the secret camp on the banks of the Goldwater River, I will take Broodmother Ann and the other Mind Warriors to the predetermined location to rendezvous with My King.”

When Victor wasn’t around, the Dragonkin handmaidens were actually quite difficult to get along with. Mewen’s personality was especially awful—arrogant, rude, and moody. Narsen was rendered speechless by her retort and could only shut his mouth in protest.

“No, Master is in danger. I have to go help him!” the towering Caligula suddenly spoke, his voice booming.

He hefted the long-handled warhammer made of refined iron in one hand and turned to walk toward the Asoerta Temple.

The Dragonkin handmaiden was enraged. Her tall, elegant figure flickered, appearing before Caligula as if by teleportation. She thrust out the absurdly large axe blade. With a hum, its sharp tip pointed directly at Caligula’s chest.

“If you dare defy My King’s command, I’ll kill you right now!” Mewen’s sapphire-like pupils had turned into dangerous vertical slits. Her blue hair billowed in the airflow swirling around her body, and a chilling aura rapidly spread outwards.

Caligula raised his head, his expression more determined than ever before. His eyes were veiled in a faint platinum-gold light. He shook his head and said gravely, “You are not Aka’s match. Step aside.”

His voice contained a mysterious power that actually neutralized Mewen’s Dragon’s Might. Everyone present was astonished. Was this really the same big simpleton who usually had no opinions of his own?

For once, Mewen didn’t retort with anger or sarcasm. She fell silent for a moment, as if comparing their strengths, and finally said, “I will kill you. Or, you can step over my dead body.”

By saying this, she was admitting that Caligula’s strength was on par with her own. But an alchemical creature is fearless, and while a Dragonoid Ripper possessed the spirit of a natural living being, it could not defy its master’s orders. Victor had told her to escort the party to the Goldwater River, and Mewen was determined to fulfill her master’s wish.

The two top-tier extraordinary warriors stood with swords drawn and bows bent. The clash of their minds and wills affected reality itself, making it difficult for the others to breathe. Only the carefree Beldina shouted excitedly, “Aka, I want to go too… um, and White Bread! He can run really fast.”

A flash of insight went through Father Dayne’s mind. He had privately assessed the Dragonkin handmaidens’ strength. In their human forms, they were top-tier Gold-rank Ferocious warriors, possessing the special Touch of the Mind ability, Fearful Gaze. If a Dragonkin handmaiden transformed into her Dragonoid form, although it was time-limited, her power was so great that even a Legendary Knight would likely have to avoid a direct confrontation.

Caligula was widely acknowledged as a Gold-rank Ferocious warrior, but he had no notable achievements to his name. Coupled with his honest and kind personality, he was often overlooked by his allies. However, Caligula was no ordinary Ferocious warrior. He had received a gift from Ron the Master and possessed a seed of the Radiant God of War’s power. If he were to unleash a portion of the Radiant God of War’s power, he could surely suppress the Dragonkin handmaiden Mewen with ease.

In reality, Dayne didn’t know that Mewen was the most special of the four Dragonkin handmaidens. A Dragonoid Ripper was naturally attuned to the wind element, making her exceptionally powerful in single combat. She could also borrow the extraordinary talent of the Raging Wind Sword Saint.

If Mewen and Caligula were to truly fight, it was hard to say who would win or lose.

Dayne’s focus now was on the special relationship between Caligula and Father Miller. Back then, Miller had performed a miracle to save a near-death Caligula, and the Sacred Warrior Ron had then gifted the seed of the Radiant God of War’s power to him. This meant Caligula must bear a special mission.

Dayne naturally assumed that Caligula’s mission was to bring Beldina safely back to Father Miller. He reached out and grasped the sacred object crystal hanging on his chest, unleashing a Heroism Art. Breaking free from the mental pressure generated by the standoff between Mewen and Caligula, he rushed over and shouted at Caligula, “Aka, if you leave the team now, not only will you be unable to help His Highness Randell, you will also ruin His Highness’s plan! Besides, are you planning on taking Beldina to her death?”

“We won’t die! I’m going to mediate the conflict between Tutor Angelina and Master!” Beldina blurted out her inner intentions.

Caligula could sense a terrifying danger emanating from the Ant-man Empress, a danger like a bottomless abyss that made his spirit plummet. But when he saw Beldina’s naive expression, he hesitated.

Dayne seized the opportunity and added, “Aka, I suggest you first protect Beldina and get her onto the boat, then go with Lady Mewen to rendezvous with His Highness Randell.”

Caligula’s towering, mountain-like aura instantly dissipated. He reverted to the simple-minded big guy, stammering, “Alright. But… we need to run faster.”

Mewen retracted her crescent axe blade, walked past the big simpleton as if he wasn’t there, and went straight to the front of the group. She leaned her back against the trunk of an old tree, ignoring everyone.

Beldina pouted, relentlessly complaining about Aka, annoyed that his resolve wasn’t firm enough, which had foiled her plans.

Charlotte gave Father Dayne a deep look, then said to Narsen in a low voice, “My lordship, what are your thoughts?”

Narsen thought for a moment and said, “My lord Victor wins every battle and has never known defeat. I choose to trust in Master’s wisdom and power, not Aka’s intuition. The worst part is, even if we went to the temple with Aka, we wouldn’t know how to help my lord escape danger.”

As he spoke, Narsen glanced at Mewen and shook his head helplessly. He reckoned he was likely no match for the Dragonkin handmaiden. Even if he could defeat her, he couldn’t very well step over Lady Mewen’s corpse to find Victor.

Narsen had already secretly resolved to reach the banks of the Goldwater River as quickly as possible and then go to rendezvous with Victor, even if it meant abandoning the sword-wielding handmaidens of the House of Randell.

Chapter 880: Conversation

“Aka senses that I’m in great danger?”

On the open-air platform atop the Asoerta Temple, Victor received a telepathic message from the Dragonkin handmaiden, Mewen. He had no choice but to divert some of his focus to re-evaluate his plan for any major flaws.

Victor held the crystal divine artifact, an object of utmost importance to the Ant-man Empress. She wished for nothing more than to kill Victor on the spot and reclaim it. However, Victor occupied the position of a Sun Elf. As a top-tier mythological creature, he couldn’t be called invincible, but those who could catch him couldn’t defeat him, and those who could defeat him couldn’t catch him. There was virtually no one who could suppress him on all fronts.

The Ant-man Empress’s options for dealing with Victor were actually very limited. She could only resort to a brute-force method—relying on the sheer number of her ant swarms to achieve victory.

Victor remained alone on the rooftop terrace of the Asoerta Temple. The Ant-man Empress had possessed a four-armed Ant-man to confront him personally, yet she still had no confidence in capturing him. The tiers of the temple’s outer walls were already packed with all sorts of ant-men. It was no exaggeration to say there was a guard every five steps and a sentry every three. The flat ground below the temple was also being patrolled by swarms of ant-men.

Even after the ant swarms severed the iron-chain drawbridge connecting the lair to the outside and surrounded the Asoerta Temple like an iron barrel, the Ant-man Empress was still not at ease. A rustling sound reached Victor’s ears, and a dynamic image formed in his mind: countless Gros eight-legged insects were pouring out from the tunnels at the base of the temple. Marching on their eight sharp limbs, they quickly swarmed to the exterior of the temple, then clung to the cliff faces, lying in ambush.

These eight-legged insects were the most basic combat units of the Gros Swarm. Each one was about the size of a domestic dog. Their incubation cycle was short, and they had an average lifespan of only a few dozen days, but their numbers were immense, and they possessed the ability to ignore terrain, moving with ease even on steep cliffs.

This meant that if Victor were to rush down from the temple, break through the heavy encirclement of the ant-men, and choose to escape down the rock face, he would be besieged by swarms of eight-legged insects. Unless he could sprout wings and fly, he would inevitably fall and be shattered to pieces.

To capture Victor, the Ant-man Empress had mobilized at least tens of thousands of insects. Once her Gros eight-legged insects occupied the cliff walls, leaving no blind spots, the time for a showdown would arrive. Victor would be trapped in a hopeless situation with seemingly no possibility of escape.

Victor’s current predicament was, of course, extremely dangerous; it was no wonder Aka wanted to come and rescue him. Just like the encounter in the Giantwood Forest when Victor was ambushed by the Shadow Knight, the timid Caligula had also acted out of character, desperately rushing to his aid. The roar Caligula had let out at that time, infused with his mental will, had indeed helped Victor escape the Shadow Knight’s fatal ambush.

That had been the closest Victor had ever come to death.

Unforeseeable danger was the only true danger. In comparison, the Ant-man Empress’s encirclement strategy was nothing; Victor naturally had a way to escape safely.

It was precisely because Victor was willing to be trapped that the Ant-man Empress had shifted her attention, giving the core members of the House of Randell a chance to escape.

The core members of the family, whom Victor had personally cultivated, had accompanied him on the expedition to the Endless Forest, enduring trials of life and death and tests of loyalty. Each had gained something in their own way, acquiring the potential to climb even higher; Narsen had even advanced to a Gold-rank Ferocious warrior. If Victor were to seal the Ant-man Empress’s main consciousness right now, not even Narsen and Caligula would be guaranteed to escape the pursuing ant swarms, and the others would face certain death.

Sealing the Ant-man Empress was not difficult; preserving the elite of the House of Randell was what would truly showcase the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s stature. Victor was willing to take a small risk for this. Besides, Victor was already surrounded by the Ant-man Empress’s claws. Even if Caligula rushed over, it would do no good and would only disrupt his plans.

“Your Highness Randell, you were distracted,” the Ant-man Empress said, watching Victor fixedly, her words a probe.

Victor pushed Caligula’s warning aside, gathered his thoughts, and nodded. “Because historical documents have been deliberately altered, certain secrets of the Church are no longer known. I was just carefully considering them so that I could better answer your question.”

The Ant-man Empress saw nothing amiss in Victor’s expression and continued, “What sort of secrets does Your Highness Randell refer to?”

Victor shook his head and said, “I’m not talking about any specific secret, but rather a long, blank period in history… the first Pope Inoc overthrew the rule of the Chosen Wizards more than nine thousand four hundred years ago, but the Radiant Church was not formally proclaimed, and the Radiant Calendar not implemented, until six thousand eight hundred years ago. There are no records of the historical process during this two-thousand-year gap in the official documents published by the Church. The ancient Knight families call these two thousand-odd years the Golden Age. However, due to the wars, the current Knight families have no line of succession from the City-state Knights of the Golden Age. Therefore, for the lords and noble clergy, the Golden Age is a blank.”

Victor paused for a moment before asking, “The papal line experienced the Pantheon Uprising, and the succession of later Popes was basically cut off. That Warlock Malph from over one thousand five hundred years ago was a confidant cultivated by Pope Carter. Did he tell Her Majesty any secrets from the Golden Age?”

The Empress Regnant shook her head. “No. Malph was not a historian. His knowledge of historical secrets was very limited.”

Victor shrugged. “In that case, my account must include some speculation and will certainly have some discrepancies from actual historical events.”

“It’s fine. I would also like to hear Your Highness Randell’s personal views on the history of the Church,” the Ant-man Empress said with a smile, though the smile appeared somewhat stiff on the face of the four-armed Ant-man, as if she were wearing an exquisite mask.

No, the Ant-man Empress can’t even properly control the expression of the four-armed Ant-man. The vessel she has descended into seems to have flaws. I’m afraid this is not the Ant-man Empress’s true perfect body… Victor thought to himself, while continuing to calmly explain the history of the Radiant Church to the Ant-man Empress. “I speculate that Inoc wanted to establish a human world ruled by the Church. However, under the circumstances at the time, his ideal was difficult to realize. You must understand, compared to the two behemoths of the Pantheon and the Mage Council, the earliest Radiant Church could only be considered a weak regional power. It was only with the deliberate indulgence of the Mage Council that Inoc was able to spread the faith of the Lord of Radiance to the major City-states and accumulate strength.”

“I could even say that the Radiant Church founded by the first Pope Inoc was a vicious dog reared by the Council of the Chosen Mages.”

“A vicious dog can tear at the enemy, but it must not bite its master. As the master, the Council of the Chosen must have had ways to restrain the Radiant Church. For example, the Divine Art Models that the Chosen Mages designed for the Radiant Church were mainly for Reinforcement and healing. There were pitifully few punitive divine arts; Radiant priests only had the Sacred Flame Art, while Sacred Warriors possessed Smite Evil. Both of these divine arts were counters to the Warlocks of the Pantheon. The Sacred Flame Art could ignite a Wizard’s magical power, causing them to die from their soul burning. The Sacred Flame Art could also purify the souls of the dying, but its punitive effect on healthy people was poor, almost nonexistent.”

“A Sacred Warrior’s Smite Evil could interrupt talent-based spellcasting, including the Wizardry talent of Wizards and various Bloodline talents, all of which were countered by Smite Evil. Of course, my elven talent and the psionic energy talent of the high-ranking ants would probably be no exception. However, neither the Sacred Flame Art nor Smite Evil had any effect on the elemental power of High-ranked Knights. Moreover, since the Sacred Flame Art and Smite Evil were punitive divine arts designed by Mages specifically to deal with the Warlocks of the Pantheon, then the Mage Council should have had spell models specifically for defending against these two punitive divine arts. It would have been very difficult for the clergy of the Radiant Church to deal with the Mage Council.”

“Radiant priests, who mastered healing divine arts, were particularly adept at swaying the common populace. They secretly preached in the City-states of the Pantheon, infiltrated the enemy’s interior, spied for intelligence, sabotaged logistics, and even incited the populace of the City-states to break away from the Pantheon’s rule and defect to the City-states of the Mage Council. The Radiant Church caused great trouble for the Warlocks of the Pantheon, but the speed at which the Church’s power expanded also made the Mages and Knights of the Council’s City-states wary.”

“If it were me, I too would move to suppress the clergy of the Radiant Church after defeating the Warlocks of the Pantheon. There is one example that can prove my point…”

“The remnants of the Pantheon, taking a large number of City-state residents with them, crossed the river and migrated south. The main armies of the Mage Council and the Radiant Church actually stood by and did nothing. Only Inoc himself came forward to intercept them? While the Dragons were certainly a factor, this is simply too ridiculous… I estimate that the Mage Council ordered the clergy of the Radiant Church to intercept the remnant army of the Pantheon, intending to use this to wear down the clergy’s main legions. But the first Pope Inoc saw through the Mage Council’s sinister intentions. He went to the banks of the Goldwater River alone, summoned the Radiant Archangels, and displayed his own extraordinary power.”

“Inoc preserved the strength of the Church’s legions, forming a powerful deterrent against the Mage Council to a certain extent. However, this action of his inevitably deepened the rift between the Mage Council and the Church!”

“A struggle for supremacy between the Mage Council and the Radiant Church was imminent. And the Council’s Mages always held the initiative in war. The Archmages made thorough preparations, then formally had a showdown with Inoc, demanding the complete submission of the Radiant Church… by handing over the divine positions of the twelve Radiant Archangels!”

Speaking to this point, Victor glanced at the Ant-man Empress.

The Ant-man Empress nodded and said, “I also believe that the Council of the Chosen Mages was the successor to the Mages’ Association of the Alchemical Empire. They must have known something about the God Creation Plan.”

Victor pondered for a moment, then continued, “Inoc obviously rejected the Mage Council’s demand. The Council’s City-states gathered a superior force and crushed the clergy’s legions in one fell swoop. Inoc fled to the southern City-state of Ayr, prayed to the Lord of Radiance on the Radiant Holy Mountain, and received His response… That’s what the priests of the Radiant Church say, but I remain skeptical… The Lord of Radiance changed the Laws of the world, forbidding spellcasters from communicating with the Elemental Sea. The Mages’ spellcasting power declined drastically, and the Radiant Church saw a turn of fortune.”

“Inoc may have entered into secret negotiations with the Knight factions. In any case, the prominent Knight families of the various City-states abandoned the Mage Towers one after another. The Mage Council was utterly defeated in the subsequent conflicts and was uprooted by the Radiant Church.”

“The demise of the Chosen Mages was not due to a loss on the front lines, but because the prominent Knight families of the City-states replaced the rule of the Chosen. The City-state Knights still controlled powerful armies, while Inoc’s legions of the Chosen had not yet fully recovered their strength. The comparison of military strength was Knights strong, Church weak. This laid the groundwork for the internal strife that would last for thousands of years to come.”

“Inoc and the City-state Knights jointly established the Radiant Code. The Church relinquished almost all of its secular rights, ceding the most fertile northern City-states entirely to the prominent Knight families. The Radiant Holy See then moved back to the barren City-state of Ayr to develop quietly, only asking that the prominent Knight families grant the priests the right to preach.”

“For the next two thousand-odd years, the human City-states entered the Golden Age of the Knights, but successive Popes did not give up their desire for the Church to lead the human kingdoms. However, the prominent Knight families of the various City-states had, after all, inherited the ruling authority of the Mage Council. They always harbored a trace of hostility towards the clergy and took various measures to limit the Church’s development. Unfortunately, the prominent Knight families had a fatal weakness: each governed their own territory, a disorderly mob. Minor frictions between the prominent Knight families and the preaching priests were constant, but the Radiant Holy See chose to forbear. The clergy retracted their claws and waited for the right moment.”

“At the end of the Golden Age, the beastmen of the northernmost lands, led by the Goblin King, returned to the human kingdoms. Faced with the pressure of the beastmen invaders, the scattered prominent Knight families finally saw an opportunity for unification. This was something the Holy See in Eyer absolutely could not tolerate. While the Knight alliance was marching north to fight the beastmen invaders, the Pope attacked the alliance’s legions from behind, executed the leader of the Knight alliance, and declared that the Knight leader was the tyrannical Black Emperor.”

“The Radiant Church used the beastmen invaders to end the Golden Age of the City-state Knights, and for that, that Pope was reviled by later generations.”

After hearing Victor’s account, the Ant-man Empress couldn’t help but sigh. “What a magnificent and turbulent history… How the Elementalists, the Mages, and the servants of the Lord of Radiance came to be so irreconcilably opposed—this question had always puzzled me, and that little Warlock Malph couldn’t explain the reasons why… Your Highness Randell, thank you for clearing up my confusion.”

Victor interjected, “I, too, have a confusion that requires Her Majesty’s clarification. The Church claims that the Lord of Radiance responded to Inoc’s prayer and changed the Laws of the world, and from then on, Wizards could no longer draw upon the power of the Elemental Sea, their spellcasting abilities being greatly weakened. But I do not believe the Lord of Radiance possesses such great power. He, after all, relies on the faith of human believers, and humanity is only a part of all living things—a very small part at that. Even if Wizards lost the favor of the Elemental Sea, and this was in line with the evolution of the world’s Laws, on what grounds could the Lord of Radiance have pushed for such an evolution to occur?”

The Ant-man Empress thought for a moment and said, “The Alchemical Empire’s Highest Council had long ago observed the evolutionary principles of the world’s Laws: to prohibit overly powerful beings from interfering with reality and causing the extinction of new life. The upper echelons of the Mages’ Association also foresaw that human Mages would one day lose the ability to communicate with the origin of the world. But Elementalists do not have this problem. Their own destructive impact on the environment is not strong, and their individual combat power could even be described as weak. However, Elementalists can maintain stable communication with the Elemental Sea, and the Supreme Elementalist, in particular, masters the power of chaos. This is why Alchemists are generally ranked higher than Mages.”

“The Lord of Radiance certainly does not have the power to cause a change in the world’s Laws. Even the Supreme Elementalist’s power of chaos cannot achieve such a feat… Only the Creator can change the Law of Creation.”

Victor stared into the Ant-man Empress’s ruby-like eyes and shook his head firmly. “That’s impossible. Taelon Ruier would have no need to do something so pointless. He shouldn’t even have a subjective consciousness!”

A stiff smile appeared on the Ant-man Empress’s face, yet from that smile, Victor sensed a hint of mysterious charm.

“…I am not speaking of Taelon Ruier, but another Creator. The creator of the Gods of the Void, and also Taelon Ruier’s mother—Regozosli, the Bird of Light!”

Chapter 881: A Specter

Since stepping into the Saint’s realm, Victor’s understanding of the world had grown ever more steadfast. He possessed his own principles and perspectives, which he constantly put into practice. Now, very few things could surprise, delight, or astonish him. The emotional cognitions of an ordinary person were receding from him; he was becoming increasingly detached, no longer like a mortal.

However, as an intelligent being within the world, all have similar starting points in their understanding of the Creator, but none can see the Creator’s true nature. It is like a tiny ant observing a human. In its perception, a person is first a scent; when it climbs onto a person’s boot, the person might be a high mountain; climbing onto the skin, it discovers the hairs on the human body are like grasslands and forests. Even if this little ant crawled over a person’s entire body, it could never piece together the scents, mountains, forests, and grasslands it perceived into a complete human being.

So, for humanity, what exactly is the Creator?

The architect of space and time, the origin of all things, the manifestation of rules, the ocean of consciousness, an omniscient and omnipotent existence… Everyone has their own view, yet there is no single objective, true answer. However, people are accustomed to referring to their own shadows and describing the Creator as a great living being. They have names, births, stories, and endings. This is because it is the form of cognition that people find easiest to accept and most convenient to understand.

Were the three Creators of this world truly living beings?

Not necessarily correct, but not necessarily wrong either. Victor accepted the anthropomorphic concept of the three Creators but had no desire to expend his vigor chasing the essence of the Creator.

It would surely be a futile effort.

When the Ant-man Empress spoke the name Regozosli, she seemed to be hinting that the Bird of Light, one of the three Creators, had secretly orchestrated the awakening of the Lord of Radiance. Victor couldn’t help but wonder what machinations the creator of the Gods of the Void was plotting.

In truth, Victor was completely unmoved. In his view, this was clearly a rhetorical trap set by the Ant-man Empress.

This ancient being, who had survived for over twenty thousand years, had an advantage Victor lacked—she knew many ancient secrets.

On one hand, the Ant-man Empress needed to stall for time, using Regozosli, the Bird of Light, to pique Victor’s interest while secretly dispatching her swarms to completely encircle him. On the other hand, the Ant-man Empress was probing Victor. If Victor knew nothing about the Bird of Light yet showed keen interest, she would know how much of a say in matters she held. She could then use words to deceive His Highness Randell, not only to easily reclaim the divine artifact crystal but perhaps also to gain some unexpected rewards.

Victor actually didn’t mind the Ant-man Empress stalling for time; it would grant Narsen, Charlotte, and his other followers a longer buffer period. But Victor had already decided to seal the Ant-man Empress’s main will. This ancient being who held so many secrets was on the verge of ruin, so what time did Victor have to listen to her spout nonsense?

Rather than waste time listening to the Ant-man Empress tell a story that couldn’t be verified, it was better to get some more valuable information… Victor sought to control the direction of the conversation. With a calm expression, he nodded.

“As far as I know, during the middle of the Dark Age, the Great Fey, a vassal race of the Elves, colluded with demons of the Abyss and launched a rebellion that nearly toppled the ancient Elven Empire. After millennia of conflict with the High Goblins, the ancient Elven Empire gradually found itself at a disadvantage. Facing an unfavorable war, the High Goblins devised a mad plan. They wanted to create a True God, and the divine artifact ‘The Cage of Rhegzothli’ was the core of this god creation. Unfortunately, before the High Goblins’ God Creation Plan could succeed, they were annihilated by the combined forces of the ancient Elves, human ancestors, and ancient Barbarians.”

“‘The Cage of Rhegzothli’ fell into the hands of the human ancestors, and it was later called the ‘Ring of Taelon Ruier’ by the Alchemists.”

Victor paused briefly, observing the four-armed Ant-man’s expression as he continued, “The Alchemical Empire must have used the ‘Ring of Taelon Ruier’—that is, ‘The Cage of Rhegzothli’—to create the Lord of Radiance… I believe the Lord of Radiance possesses some of the Creator’s power, which allows it to push the world’s Principles to undergo a subtle change at a designated time, following the trend of the Principles’ evolution… So, ‘The Cage of Rhegzothli’ is the core of the Lord of Radiance?”

The Ant-man Empress nodded. “For you to know this Secret History is truly beyond my expectations… That’s right, ‘The Cage of Rhegzothli’ is the core that constitutes the Lord of Radiance. This secret was told to me by Archmage Andrew of the Highest Council, one hundred thirty years after I transformed into a spirit body.”

Andrew? The name of the Archmage from the Highest Council was the same as the Chosen Archmage who initiated the Blood Sacrifice ritual and brought about the disaster of war. Both were named Andrew… Victor muttered to himself inwardly.

During the Era of the Chosen, the Council Archmage who invented the Blood Sacrifice ritual was also named Andrew, but Victor didn’t think much of it. After all, Andrew was a very common name; it was no surprise for two Mages to share it. Moreover, Archmage Andrew of the Alchemical Empire’s Highest Council and the main culprit who triggered the Blood Sacrifice War were separated by over eighteen thousand years. Their shared name had to be a coincidence.

“I don’t know much about this divine artifact named after a Creator. I hope Her Majesty Angelina can inform me of its details,” Victor said sincerely, rising from his stone seat and bowing to the Ant-man Empress.

The Ant-man Empress nodded, then shook her head, saying, “My knowledge of the mysteries of ‘The Cage of Rhegzothli’ is also limited. But…” Her tone shifted as she continued, “I do have some thoughts on this divine artifact’s origin.”

“Your Highness Randell has a special relationship with the Elves. You must have heard of the Elven race’s creation myth, haven’t you?”

Without waiting for Victor’s reply, the Ant-man Empress continued on her own, “In the myths of the Elven Empire, the Sun God Frey is an Incarnation of the Creator Taelon Ruier. He created the Moon Goddess Freya, and their union gave birth to the Elven race. Therefore, the Elves and their vassal races treat the Sun God Frey as they would the Creator. The Empire’s subjects do not worship the Sun God Frey directly but instead worship the Ancestor Gods of their respective races, who are beneath Frey, with the Moon Goddess Freya being the chief god of the Elven pantheon.”

“Mm, every civilization founded by an intelligent race believes itself to be unique,” Victor said with a nod. “Elven civilization places the Sun God Frey in the position of the Creator. The Moon Goddess Freya originally held no higher standing than the Ancestor Gods of the mountains or Demonic Rats, but as the wife of the Sun God Frey, she becomes very special. This way, the Dwarves, Halflings, and Forest Centaurs of the Elven Empire will acknowledge the Elves’ leading role without feeling the humiliation of being enslaved by them. Therefore, mythology serves civilization; mythology itself cannot be used as a historical reference.”

A faint smile appeared on the Ant-man Empress’s face. “Your Highness Randell’s understanding of mythology is very thorough. The long-extinct High Goblins had a set of myths entirely different from the Elven Empire’s…”

“Just as Your Highness Randell said, mythology serves civilization, so we need not concern ourselves with the detailed contents of the High Goblin myths. In short, the descendants of the Fey King slandered the Moon Goddess Freya and also refused to acknowledge the Sun God Frey as the Creator’s Incarnation. To legitimize their betrayal of the Elven Empire, the High Goblins went so far as to claim that the Fey King Gulkross was Taelon Ruier’s little sister.”

“The Demon Serpent of the Abyss was born from the world’s chaos and is the Origin of all things; the Bird of Light is the mother of all living beings, the shaper of all souls, the Origin of Law. When the Demon Serpent of the Abyss awoke from chaos, it gained the light of spirit, and thus the Bird of Light was born.”

“Because the natures of chaos and Law are fundamentally in conflict, the Demon Serpent of the Abyss had to slay the Bird of Light to hibernate once more; the Bird of Light, unwilling to return to chaos, had to kill the Demon Serpent of the Abyss. In the battle between the two generations of Creators, the Creation Giant Ape Taelon Ruier came into being.”

“As the first offspring of the previous two generations of Creators, Taelon Ruier was both the first demon and the first of the Gods of the Void. Possessing the essences of both chaos and Law, He carved out the four great elements of earth, fire, wind, and water, becoming the third-generation Creator.”

“The three Creators battled one another, and their spilled blood converged to form the planes and living beings. The Demon Serpent of the Abyss created the Abyss Plane and demons; the Bird of Light created the Celestial Realm and the Gods of the Void; Taelon Ruier created the Material Plane and the primordial beings.”

“Later, according to Taelon Ruier’s will, the primordial beings evolved into different Ancient Behemoths, of which the two most powerful were Mother Earth and the Sun God Frey. Mother Earth stole the power of the Demon Serpent of the Abyss, representing the earth and water elements; the Sun God Frey stole the power of the Bird of Light, representing the wind and fire elements.”

“The High Goblins depicted the Sun God as a despicable thief who stole the Bird of Light’s power, imprisoned Regozosli, and usurped the sun. They also claimed that their Fey King Gulkross was Taelon Ruier’s little sister and would become the fourth-generation Creator, an existence naturally superior to the Sun God and Moon Goddess. As descendants of the Fey King, it was only natural for the High Goblins to betray the Elven Empire.”

“Of course, the High Goblins’ mythology is just that—a myth. We of the Alchemical Empire do not acknowledge it; otherwise, we would have completely broken with the Elven Empire and become the mortal enemies of the Elves. We only acknowledge Taelon Ruier as the Ancestor God of the human primordial beings, indirectly acknowledging the Sun God Frey’s position. This is the foundation of the alliance between the human ancestors and the Elven Empire.”

Victor nodded, indicating his agreement with the Ant-man Empress’s words. He asked, “Then, what exactly is ‘The Cage of Rhegzothli’?”

“A good question.” The Ant-man Empress gave Victor an appreciative look and said leisurely, “When I was still a young Mage, I used to fantasize about what ‘The Cage of Rhegzothli’ looked like. Was it a cage? A circlet? A chest? A crystal? But these are all the imaginings of ignorant mortals about a Creator’s divine artifact. It wasn’t until Archmage Andrew released me from the Realm of All Spirits that he told me ‘The Cage of Rhegzothli’ is actually a power of Law, something that cannot be seen or touched.”

“In the eyes of an Archmage, all things in the world are manifestations of the union between elements and Principles. ‘The Cage of Rhegzothli’, also known as the ‘Ring of Taelon Ruier’, is a divine artifact in the truest sense; of course it couldn’t be an object like a cage, a circlet, or a crystal.”

“It is eternal, indestructible, and unique!”

The Ant-man Empress explained further, “You can think of ‘The Cage of Rhegzothli’ as a spell incantation, a set of ritual rites, a spell model. Once used, it cannot be used again.”

Victor lowered his head in thought for a moment before saying, “I understand it as a type of authority, a Creator-level authority.”

The Ant-man Empress nodded. “A one-time-use authority… that’s not wrong either.”

“Then, what kind of authority is it, specifically?” Victor ventured.

“I do not know the full extent of it. Perhaps you should seek the answer from a certain Ancient Behemoth, or a demon sovereign, or one of the Gods of the Void.”

The Ant-man Empress smiled and said, “However, I do know that the Bird of Light holds the authority to Purify the Will Side of the soul, which is why the Gods of the Void can reboot their own souls… After an alchemical creature dies, the memories and emotional cognitions in its Will Side are purified by the Alchemy Tower, and the soul is rebooted to its initial state. This resembles the soul rebirth of the Gods of the Void. In contrast, the Wizard Kings and Holy Lords in the Realm of All Spirits do not know how to Purify the Will Side of the soul. They devour too many soul impurities, continuously contaminating their own soul’s will, and will eventually perish.”

Victor’s head snapped up, his eyes shining brightly. “The purification authority held by Regozosli, the Bird of Light, can… Purify and reboot the Will Side of the soul of a God of the Void or a demon sovereign?!”

The Ant-man Empress’s smile remained unchanged. “Correct! The High Goblins wanted to capture a living God of the Void and use ‘The Cage of Rhegzothli’ to completely Purify its Will Side, twisting it into an Incarnation of the Fey King… This was the High Goblins’ God Creation Plan.”

Victor was silent for a long while before letting out a long sigh. He said with great emotion, “No wonder the Gods of the Void wanted to destroy the Alchemical Empire… The Highest Council actually captured a living God of the Void and transformed it into the Lord of Radiance?! It would be more unbelievable if the descendants of the Bird of Light were to spare you crazy Mages and Alchemists.”

“I am very curious. Which madman was it that proposed the God Creation Plan to the Highest Council?”

The Ant-man Empress also fell silent for a moment before speaking. “It was Archmage Andrew.”

Victor, who rarely felt surprise anymore, saw his expression turn ghastly. His voice was low, almost a whisper to himself. “Over ten thousand years ago, during the Era of the Chosen, the Archmage who started the Blood Sacrifice War was also named Andrew.”

Chapter 882: School of Life

“The Alchemical Empire’s Highest Council implemented the God Creation Plan, and the Chosen Wizards performed the Blood Sacrifice ritual. Both of these major events in human history are connected to a spellcaster named Andrew, but there is currently no evidence to prove that Archmage Andrew from the end of the Alchemical Empire is the same person as Archmage Andrew from the end of the Era of the Chosen.”

Victor thought about it calmly and felt that he might have been a little too sensitive. However, the forms of existence of the Ant-man Empress and the Gods of the Void were enough to demonstrate the limitations of the theory of the Mind and Bloodline.

According to the theory of the Mind and Bloodline, the human body is a manifestation of the Bloodline Law, and the bloodline and the mind are in fact an inseparable whole. When a person’s body dies, their mental will also dissipates; when a person’s Soul Fire is extinguished, their body loses its life force, gradually withers, and eventually turns to a pile of dust.

Therefore, Victor’s theory of the Mind and Bloodline did not support individual immortality. The Gods of the Void and the Ant-man Empress had broken this principle, but the Fey’s mythology of the three generations of Creators from the Dark Age offered a more reasonable explanation, one that could compensate for the theory’s shortcomings.

The first Creator, the Demon Serpent of the Abyss, symbolized chaos itself—without beginning or end, without thought or contemplation. The moment She awoke from Her long slumber and gained consciousness, chaos began to change.

Ordinary people’s minds wander all day long, and even if they “rack their brains,” it’s just a figure of speech and cannot directly affect reality. The Demon Serpent of the Abyss was no mortal. As the first Creator, She could bring forth all laws with a single thought. The Demon Serpent’s thought became the second Creator, the Bird of Light.

The Bird of Light symbolized Law and Order, a natural opposite to chaos. The Fey’s origin myth described this opposition as a battle to the death between the two Creators. Unfortunately, any attempt by the Demon Serpent of the Abyss to kill the Bird of Light would only make it stronger. Similarly, if the Bird of Light were to kill the Demon Serpent of the Abyss, it would lose the foundation of its existence and eventually return to chaos.

Creation Giant Ape Taelonriel was born during the battle between the two generations of Creators. He was the third Creator, symbolizing the process of chaos and Law transitioning from opposition to unity. He could be considered the offspring of the Demon Serpent of the Abyss and the Bird of Light, which meant the fusion of chaos and Law and Order.

Taelonriel forged the four great elements of earth, fire, wind, and water. The earth element opposed the wind element, and the fire element opposed the water element. But the earth element was unified with the water element, the water element with the wind element, the wind element with the fire element, and the fire element with the earth element. The opposition and unity of the four elements manifested in all things in the world, such as the opposition between the infinity of the mind and the finiteness of life, while the mind and body are also a unified whole.

As for the Fey King being the fourth Creator, that was purely the Fey race flattering themselves and wasn’t worth refuting.

In reality, the conflict between the three generations of Creators was a metaphor for the trend of integration between the Abyss, the Celestial Realm, and the Prime Material Plane. In the three major planes, there were no pure demons of the Abyss, nor were there any pure Gods of the Void; it was just that the demons’ and the Gods of the Void’s power attributes were closer to the essence of the Demon Serpent of the Abyss and the Bird of Light, respectively.

Considering that the Black Blood Demons of Asoerta Temple possessed a chaotic and disordered bloodline, Victor had reason to believe that the demonic attribute of chaos leaned toward the Bloodline Law. In contrast, the Gods of the Void must have mastered the Law of the soul.

The theory of the Mind Bloodline secret art was not wrong; it was correct on the Prime Material Plane. Individual life achieved another form of “immortality” through bloodline inheritance. The Ant-man Empress, however, was an ancient being and a special case. Her spirit form resided in another plane, and her influence on the physical world was a projection of her will, which required Ant-man units as vessels. The situation with the Gods of the Void was fundamentally similar to the Ant-man Empress’s; they both used temporary bodies to walk the Material Plane, but these vessels still had to obey the rules of the Material Plane.

Having clarified the fundamental law of life—opposition and unity—the beacon of knowledge Victor had erected in his mind dispelled a large swathe of darkness. He believed that with in-depth research in this direction, given time, the Mind Bloodline secret art would step into an even vaster domain.

However, if Archmage Andrew was really the same person and had defied the life rule of opposition and unity to live for tens of thousands of years, the knowledge jigsaw puzzle that Victor had painstakingly assembled would once again lie in shattered pieces.

This caused him immense pain, like carefully preparing a delicious feast only to find a green-headed fly crawling all over it just as he was about to dig in. His mood completely collapsed.

Of course, even if the possibility of the two Archmage Andrews being the same person was low, Victor had to find a way to get to the bottom of the matter. He hesitated for a moment before asking sincerely, “Your Majesty, the Archwizard who triggered the Blood Sacrifice War over ten thousand years ago was also named Andrew. Do you think he and the Archmage Andrew from The Highest Council could be the same person?”

As long as she could gain more time, the Ant-man Empress was happy to answer Victor’s questions, but the answer she gave was not to Victor’s liking.

“I believe there is a high probability that they are the same person.”

Victor’s expression immediately turned grave, and he pressed, “Your Majesty, how can a human Archmage live for over ten thousand years? Do you think Archmage Andrew is really human? Is it possible that he’s… a God of the Void, or a high-ranking demon in disguise?”

The Ant-man Empress did not respond directly to Victor’s hypothesis. She mused, “Your Highness Randall, do you know what the early humans were like before they were civilized?”

Seeing Victor press his lips together and shake his head, the Ant-man Empress continued, “The uncivilized early humans had no written language and did not practice agriculture. They roamed in tribes, congregating wherever resources were abundant, and were often driven away by other intelligent races and hunted by ferocious beasts… Although individual early humans were relatively weak in combat, they fortunately possessed astonishing procreative abilities. In that era, a female Gnoll could only give birth to a litter of cubs every three years, and the Elves’ reproductive cycle was as long as twelve years. The more powerful a creature, the more difficult its procreation. Only the early humans had a reproductive cycle of just half a year. You can imagine, the early humans were the most numerous terrestrial intelligent race at the time, just like the… Goblins of today. Yes, the early humans of the Dark Age were as loathed by other intelligent races as Goblins are now.”

“However, exceptionally powerful individuals would occasionally appear among the early humans. Every early human had the potential to awaken the power within their bloodline, gaining an affinity for elements or laws. They were the Elementalists and Wild wizards of the early humans. Some of these early Elementalists and Wild wizards were terrifyingly strong, often capable of leading a massive tribe of their people. Moreover, the benighted early Wild wizards could communicate with the Gods of the Void and demon lords, but they did not understand the true nature of the gods and demons, which is why the early humans had a custom of god worship.”

Hearing this, Victor couldn’t help but sigh inwardly. It was precisely because of their ancestors’ habit of worshipping gods that the clergy of the Radiant Church, in order to prevent Wizards from developing pseudo-god cults and competing for the faith of mortal believers, adopted a policy of exterminating Wild wizards. But from another perspective, the numerous early humans with their custom of god worship were excellent targets for enslavement.

The Ant-man Empress said, “Those Whisperers never really cared about the worship of the early humans. When a tribe’s Wild wizard died, the tribe’s connection with the Whisperer was severed, and the entire tribe would disintegrate in a very short time. They couldn’t form a stable line of succession, and the early humans in the tribe had no choice but to resume their wandering, searching for a god-worshipping tribe and trying to join it.”

Her tone shifted as she continued, “According to the secret archives in the Alchemical Empire’s Mage academies, it was actually the ancient Elven Empire that first enslaved the early humans. When the early human tribes posed a threat to public order, the ancient Elves would assassinate the Wild wizards and Elementalists in the tribes, capture large numbers of early humans, and use the legacy blood of Ancient Behemoths to turn them into the Elves’ vassals—namely, the Hill Dwarves and the Demonic Rat Halflings.”

“The fertility of Dwarves and Halflings was not as good as that of early humans, but it was much stronger than that of the ancient Elves and ancient Fey. The Dwarves and Halflings gave the Elves their absolute obedience, and their rise severely squeezed the interests of the Fey race within the Elven Empire. This was a major reason for the Fey rebellion.”

“In appearance, the Fey are very similar to the Elves, but they are more beautiful and more exquisite. Royal Fey have a head of silver-white hair, looking holy, pure, beautiful, and captivating. The forest fairies and Ladies of the Lake celebrated in human poetry are actually based on female Fey. What distinguishes them from the Elves is that the Fey are closer to celestial beings; they are natural-born spellcasters.”

At this point, Victor had already noticed that a large number of eight-legged insects were pouring out of the temple again. He said coldly, “You’ve strayed too far. The cliffs of this lone peak are about to be completely covered by your retainers.”

The Ant-man Empress laughed dismissively. “Your Highness Randall, I am merely taking necessary precautions. After all, I am worried you might give the divine artifact crystal that belongs to me to Supreme Elementalist Sylvia. If Your Highness returns the divine artifact crystal to me now, I promise to withdraw the swarm immediately. What do you say?”

A smile of disdainful dismissal appeared on Victor’s face. He nodded and gestured, “Please continue with the previous topic.”

“…No one knows the specific process of the ancient Fey’s rebellion, but their close allies, the Bear-monsters, were the first to have their royal court breached by the Elven Empire. The Fey had no choice but to flee the Endless Forest. Subsequently, the numerically few and reproductively challenged Fey set their sights on the early human tribes. They captured early humans and created the Barbarians to be their vassal race.”

“Perhaps the schism of the Elven Empire was a conspiracy orchestrated by the demons of the Abyss, with the demon prince Donar providing the Fey with the blood of demon lords. Therefore, the Barbarians cultivated by the Fey were more inclined towards chaotic demons. They had sufficient strength and numbers to contend with the Elven Empire’s armies. By the time the ancient Elves had completely suppressed the Bear-monster rebellion, they discovered that the Fey had already assembled a vast Barbarian army. Worst of all, the Fey could use the demon prince’s blood to continuously create more Barbarians.”

“Winning the support of the early humans became the key to defeating their opponents. The Elven Empire dispatched large numbers of troops to help early human tribes resist capture by the Fey, and they taught the early humans knowledge, provided them with weapons, helped them build city walls, and even revealed the true nature of the Whisperers to the Wild wizards and Elementalists. All of this became the embryonic form of human City-state civilization.”

“Having received the spark of civilization from the Elves, the early humans rose up during the war. The tide of war began to turn in favor of the allied forces of Elves and humans. But the Elves underestimated the thirst for magical knowledge of the human Wild wizards and Elementalists. The beautiful Fey, who were natural spellcasters, instead became targets for plunder by the early humans. The control of the war gradually fell into the hands of the early humans, and the Elves could no longer suppress their ambitions. They could only guide their human ancestors to direct their greedy desires towards the Fey.”

“The early humans captured Fey as slaves and gradually mastered their runic magic, laying the foundation for the art of puppetry. When the runic puppets created by the early humans appeared on the battlefield, the Fey’s last advantage was gone. They also discovered that because so many Fey had been captured by humans, their Barbarian vassals were showing signs of instability.”

“The Fey believed that their small numbers and difficult procreation were the reasons they were losing to the early humans. To reverse their predicament, the Fey Royal Court introduced the blood of Titans into their own kind… It was the legacy blood of a demon king who had already perished. It was highly corrupting, but it could not be controlled by other demon lords.”

“…The Fey contaminated by the blood of Titans evolved into High Goblins and Ogres. The Fey transformed from near-celestial beings to near-demonic beings. Although the High Goblins ultimately lost that war due to the betrayal of demon prince Donar and the Demon Dragon of the Abyss, they managed to prolong the war for several thousand years. Even now, we are unable to completely eradicate the Goblin race.”

“The Elven Empire declined during the war. Faced with the forceful rise of the human City-states, they had no choice but to form a pact with our ancestors. Fortunately, with the addition of the Dragons, the Elven Empire remained a powerful empire that the early humans were unwilling to offend. Both sides secretly vied for the support of the Barbarians, which ultimately led to a new stature of a three-race alliance.”

“After the war, the Elven Empire was the main competitor of the early humans. They constantly used various means to support the Barbarians, even encouraging them to establish a Royal Court and propagate the Shamanistic doctrine of the Earth Mother and the Sky Spirit. Under the influence of Shamanistic doctrine, the disparate Barbarian tribes submitted to the rule of the Barbarian Royal Court. This thwarted the early human City-states’ attempts to assimilate the Barbarians, but it also led to closer ties between the City-states themselves. The Mages and Elementalists of the City-states formed the Alchemical Empire to counter the aggressive Elven Empire and Barbarian Royal Court.”

The Ant-man Empress paused for a moment, then continued, “Both the Alchemical Empire and the Elven Empire claim that it was the ancient Elves who spread the spark of civilization to the early humans. However, in the secret archives of the Mage academies under The Highest Council, there is another account recorded… The Alchemical Empire primarily inherited the legacy of Fey civilization. The research of human Archmages on the Fey race might be even more profound than that of the Elves.”

“The lifespan of the Fey is longer than that of the Elves. An ordinary Fey gives birth only once every sixty-plus years. If they live to be three hundred years old, they are promoted to Royal Fey and henceforth lose their ability to procreate. Royal Fey have a peculiar trait: when they are promoted, they transform into an egg and are reborn from it, but they lose their previous memories. Before an ordinary Fey is promoted to Royal Fey, they use runic magic to seal their most important memories inside the heartwood of an ancient tree. After the Royal Fey is born, other Fey will dig out the heartwood, prepare it into a magical potion, and have the newborn drink it to restore their past memories.”

“The transformation and rebirth of the Fey race, juxtaposed with the Bird of Light’s authority to Purify the soul and grant Regeneration… Your Highness Randall, what does this make you think of?” the Ant-man Empress asked softly, her gaze deep as she looked at Victor.

The Ant-man Empress had been beating around the bush, making a huge detour. It was only now that Victor understood what She was trying to say.

The Alchemical Empire was not born out of war, but was created by the rulers of the City-states under the pressure of the Elven Empire. On the surface, the two empires were amicable, but their upper echelons were mutually wary and deeply concerned. Primordial humans had a unique trait: when they intermarried with Elves and Barbarians, their descendants exhibited more pronounced human characteristics. The early humans could have used this to assimilate the entire Barbarian race; it would have just taken more time. But the Elven Empire actually helped the Barbarians establish a Royal Court and promoted Shamanistic doctrine. It was no longer possible for the early humans to absorb the Barbarians.

Back then, the Elven Empire had supported the early humans to defeat the High Goblins. Goblin civilization was utterly crushed and has not been able to recover to this day. With the example of the High Goblins before them, the Elves then began to support the Barbarians. Of course the early humans would be worried.

The founding intention of the Alchemical Empire was to prevent what happened to the High Goblins from repeating itself with humanity. The populace at the bottom of the Empire might not have sensed the crisis of civilization’s collapse. But look at how the Alchemical Empire educated its Mage apprentices.

The Mage academies styled themselves as the inheritors of Fey magical civilization, refusing to acknowledge that the Alchemical Empire’s civilization was a gift from the Elves. However, the Elven Empire and the Barbarian Royal Court were merely external threats to the Alchemical Empire. The early human Mages and Elementalists also profoundly recognized the Alchemical Empire’s internal threat—Mages and Elementalists were born randomly, making the legacy of the Alchemical Empire’s civilization prone to gaps.

Based on the reasons for the Alchemical Empire’s founding, Victor could easily imagine that the early human Mages and Elementalists considered the legacy of human civilization their top priority. In diplomacy, they had to maintain a balance of power among the three major races, but internally, they had to prioritize solving the predicament of succession for Elementalists and Mages.

Therefore, Elementalists only intermarried with other Elementalists, gradually forming the City-state Knight families. These Knight families could also maintain the normal operation of a City-state in the event of a generational gap among its Mages.

The succession problem for Knights was solved, but what about the succession problem for Mages?

This was bound to be a key Research Direction for the Empire’s Mages. They had no more than two ways to solve the problem: one was to make Mages immortal; the second was to ensure the inheritance of magical civilization without interruption through bloodline inheritance.

Archmage Andrew of the Alchemical Empire pushed for the God Creation Plan, and Archmage Andrew of the Chosen tested the Blood Sacrifice ritual. They were doing these two very things.

The two Archmage Andrews were very likely the same person; at the very least, their goals were identical.

Victor felt depressed. “The rebirth of the Royal Fey and their heartwood reminds me of the Alchemists’ memory crystals,” he said.

The Ant-man Empress nodded. “That’s right. The early human Mages created the study of runes based on Fey runes, and they also conducted in-depth research on the human soul. In the very beginning, the study of runes and the study of the soul were both applied to Alchemical puppets, imitating the Will Side of the human soul to grant the puppets simple autonomous consciousness. Memory crystals are a byproduct of the alchemical puppetry art, and the origins of both these academic fields lie with the ancient Fey.”

Victor frowned and asked, “Are Alchemical puppets very strong?”

The Ant-man Empress said lightly, “When I was studying at the Mage academy, I saw the wreckage of a Level 8 Alchemical Flying Dragon Puppet. It was said that it could chase down and attack Dragons. It’s just that the cost of high-level puppets was too high. During the war against the demons, almost all high-level Alchemical puppets were dismantled and exchanged for alchemical combat units. However, The Highest Council never gave up on its plan to build the Divine Colossi. That is the ultimate creation of alchemical puppetry, and it can only be activated with the power of a Supreme Elementalist.”

A flash of inspiration struck Victor. He connected the clues of the Royal Fey’s heartwood, the Alchemists’ memory crystals, and the Alchemical puppets with simple consciousness, and thought of the Radiant Church’s Sacred Warrior Crystals, as well as the Shadow Warriors cultivated by The Shadow Council.

When a fourth-tier Sacred Warrior died, there was a certain chance their combat experience and strengthening divine arts would be transferred into the White crystals they carried. This was the so-called Sacred Warrior Crystal. A priest could activate its power to temporarily gain the Sacred Warrior’s combat skills and all their divine arts from when they were alive.

The Shadow Warriors of The Shadow Council were also special. Like the Bloodguard, they mastered the power of Bloodlust, but their combat techniques were extraordinary. Compared to them, the Bloodguard were like ordinary soldiers next to Mind Warriors. Although ordinary warriors could also achieve astonishing levels of combat skill through years of arduous training, the Shadow Warriors encountered by the Quicksilver spies were all excessively young.

Victor now had to suspect that The Shadow Council’s Shadow Warriors used a secret art similar to the Sacred Warrior Crystal, and that its origin was still the study of the soul pioneered by the ancient mages.

He shook his head, casting aside the stray thoughts that had surfaced. “Let’s get back to Archmage Andrew.”

The Ant-man Empress nodded slightly and said, “In the early days of the Alchemical Empire, there was a School of Life. The Mages of this School were all out-and-out madmen. In their quest to uncover the mysteries of the soul and immortality, they committed many brutal crimes. Not only did they experiment on Elves and Barbarians, but they also tried to extract human souls and transfer them into Alchemical puppets, and even plotted against other Mages and Elementalists. The craziest thing the School of Life ever did was to try and capture a Supreme Elementalist… hehe, what a joke. That Supreme Elementalist had once made the Elven Emperor bow his proud head with his own martial prowess. The consequences of the School of Life offending a Supreme Elementalist were predictable. The members of the School were hunted down by the Supreme Elementalist and almost completely annihilated. From then on, the School of Life became a taboo in the Alchemical Empire.”

“Archmage Andrew of The Highest Council was a secret member of the School of Life.”

A pensive look appeared on the Ant-man Empress’s face. She paused, then continued, “Among the Archmages of The Highest Council, Andrew was particularly low-key; I have never heard of any of his glorious deeds. But he was the most senior member of the Council. I remember when Angelina received the title of Archmage, she met Andrew once. He looked about two hundred years old, with an ancient appearance. By the time I met with my misfortune and was transformed into a spirit form, Archmage Andrew released my consciousness from Spirit-Devouring Island. That was over a hundred years later, and the Andrew I saw was a young Third-Circle Mage.”

Victor raised his fingers and rubbed the space between his eyebrows, saying meaningfully, “According to the Radiant Church, the Mages of the School of Life are a group of Evildoers bewitched by Devils. How can you be sure that the Archmage Andrew you saw was the same person? Perhaps they were tutor and disciple, or… perhaps they weren’t human at all, but vessels created by the Gods of the Void!”

The Ant-man Empress’s eyes were exceptionally calm as she said nonchalantly, “I know that Andrew was not a vessel disguised by the Gods of the Void, because the Gods of the Void can no longer descend upon the Prime Material Plane. I also know that the two Andrews I met were the same person, because I was the test subject he plotted against, and he was the one who pulled me into the School of Life… I, too, am a member of the School of Life.”

“Besides eternal immortality, I desire nothing else.”

Chapter 883: The Fog Beyond the Answer

The Ant-man Empress claimed to be a member of the School of Life. Even though her former self had been betrayed by the School of Life, reduced from a promising female mage to a test subject in the God Creation Plan, she seemed to bear no resentment toward Archmage Andrew.

Of course, this wasn’t strange at all.

In an empire ruled by Alchemists and Mages, the mages of the School of Life were treated like public pariahs, a testament to the terrible crimes they must have committed. However, the School of Life was dedicated to unraveling the mysteries of the soul and eternal life, holding an unimaginable allure for top-tier scholars. Almost every Archmage and Great Alchemist was a potential member. Had it been Victor, he too would have been willing to join the School of Life in exchange for the accumulated research of its members.

By revealing herself as a member of the School of Life, the Ant-man Empress was implying to Victor that she possessed its secret collection of treasured texts. As long as Victor helped her ascend to the Angelic Throne, she could hand over the School of Life’s secret library.

If this were true, Victor felt a flicker of hesitation, considering whether he should proceed with his plan to seal the Ant-man Empress. However, her statement contained a logical contradiction.

Assuming the Archmage Andrew of the Highest Council and the Archmage Andrew of the Era of the Chosen were the same person, it would mean he had already mastered the secret to an immortal soul. In that case, the Ant-man Empress was not the only member of the School of Life, nor was she the sole custodian of its research.

In other words, an immortal Archmage Andrew would have no need to entrust the legacy of the School of Life solely to the Ant-man Empress. The School’s academic achievements may have already put down roots and flourished throughout the human world. Things like the Sacred Warrior Crystal and the Shadow Warriors could very well be magical arts invented by the School of Life.

Most of these magical arts had already fallen into the hands of the Radiant Church and been put to use. Victor not only had clues related to them, but they were also not new technologies, so their value was not as great as one might imagine.

The other possibility was that the Archmage Andrew of the Highest Council was dead, with not even his ashes remaining. The Ant-man Empress would then be the sole surviving member of the School of Life. But the legacy she inherited was over twenty thousand years old. Considering the changes of the era and the evolution of natural Law, Victor estimated that the School’s treasured collection in her hands was mostly obsolete. Its practical value was likely very limited, much like the many ancient technologies within the Will Side of the alchemical auxiliary soldiers, which sounded wonderful but were, in fact, unusable.

What Victor cared about most right now was whether the two Archmage Andrews were the same person, as this pertained to a deviation in the theory of the Mind Bloodline secret art. The Ant-man Empress didn’t necessarily know the truth, but by conversing with her, Victor could glean some subtle clues.

“Your Majesty, you are certain that the two Andrews you saw were the same person, and you believe he might be the same person as the Andrew from the Era of the Chosen… Do you have proof?”

“Proof?”

The Ant-man Empress spread her arms in a bored posture and said, “Back when I was studying at the mage academy, I remember a mentor once said that when faced with a magical concept, a genius mage will always say, ‘Oh, this is remarkable, how can we achieve it?’ whereas a mediocrity will say, ‘This is impossible, you’ll have to show me proof before I believe it!’”

“…The genius mages of the Alchemical Empire were all lunatics!”

“Thank you for the compliment, Your Highness.”

Victor shook his head and said helplessly, “Alright, you have no proof, of course. You’re just speculating that Archmage Andrew can transcend the river of time. Perhaps you yourself are an example, but I imagine Archmage Andrew’s situation is different from yours. If you’re willing, I would very much like to hear his story.”

The Ant-man Empress smiled. “I experienced a betrayal, or you could call it a magical accident. I lost my form as the female mage Angelina and became a spirit entity, my main consciousness trapped on Spirit-Devouring Island. Andrew released me from my cage, and he confessed everything to me… It turned out that from the very beginning, Angelina was part of the God Creation Plan. To be precise, she was a test subject for the School of Life, with the purpose of providing the Highest Council with living material to prove that a mage could be transformed into a spirit entity, similar to the Gods of the Void.”

“Andrew told me that the School of Life’s spirit experiment was a success, but the God Creation Plan was a complete failure. The Highest Council had just begun preparations for the God Creation Plan when the Gods of the Void collectively descended, manifesting their divine forms to launch a surprise attack on Moldarit. That was the city-state where the Empire’s Highest Council was stationed. At least four hundred thousand people were killed. All the Grand Alchemists and Archmages of the Highest Council perished. Only Archmage Andrew managed to escape death’s grasp by using a secret art.”

Victor shot to his feet, his dark gold eyes becoming incredibly profound. He said slowly, “You’re saying the Highest Council’s God Creation Plan failed the moment it began? And eighteen thousand years later, the failed God Creation Plan succeeded?”

The Ant-man Empress nodded. “From the information I have, that is indeed the case. As unbelievable as it is, I must admit that the failed God Creation Plan was restarted over ten thousand years later, and it succeeded.”

Victor wasn’t actually surprised by the Ant-man Empress’s conclusion, but this piece of information was precisely the key to unraveling the mystery of the Alchemical Empire’s demise.

Victor lowered his head and paced back and forth a few steps on the top-level platform. After a moment of thought, he looked up and said sincerely, “Your Majesty, could you be more detailed?”

The Ant-man Empress nodded. “There are indeed some questionable points in all this. I also hope His Highness Randall can offer me some insights. After all, we are among the few remaining inheritors of the Alchemical Empire.”

“The Asoerta Temple was once a level-ten Alchemy Tower, and you have already collected its Rune Crystal. I remember on the day of the great upheaval in the Alchemical Empire, our mortal Tower Master, without any warning, suddenly led all the alchemical creatures away from the proving ground. The Alchemist Maximo was shocked and immediately led people to stop him, but they were ambushed by the alchemical creatures. He almost died… It was I who controlled the ant swarms and the Assyrian warriors to rescue him that allowed Maximo to escape with his life.”

“At the time, the number of alchemical creatures produced by the Alchemy Tower was limited, far from being a match for the entire ant swarm. The ant swarms I led slaughtered all the alchemical creatures and captured the traitorous Tower Master. Just as we were about to interrogate him, the mortal Tower Master’s body disintegrated into void element right before our eyes.”

“Only then did we realize that the mortal Tower Master was actually a body double created by the Gods of the Void. The real mortal Tower Master was already dead… You probably can’t imagine how petrified the Alchemist Maximo was by this. In fact, all the Alchemists, Mages, Elementalists, and mage apprentices involved in the construction of the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower were completely stunned.”

“This violates the fundamental principles of Alchemy!”

The Ant-man Empress paused for a moment before continuing her explanation. “When we built the Alchemy Tower, we inscribed its fundamental principles: under no circumstances could alchemical creatures attack Alchemists, Mages, Elementalists, or mage apprentices certified by the Highest Council. But that Void God not only replaced the mortal Tower Master and controlled the Alchemy Tower, but also bypassed its fundamental principles to order the alchemical units to attack us.”

“If this was a loophole, then it would be effective against every single Alchemy Tower built by the Highest Council!”

“Furthermore, during the era when the Empire resisted the second invasion of the demons from the Abyss, the Gods of the Void rarely descended to the Prime Material Plane. As a female mage of the Empire, I could sometimes hear the whispers of extraordinary beings, but they were all illogical fragments of language. The Gods of the Void and the demon lords hardly ever responded to my questions directly. This phenomenon was actually quite common in the late period of the Empire. Our understanding of the Gods of the Void came mainly from the secret archives of the academies… I heard that the Empire’s Highest Council maintained a channel of communication with the Gods of the Void, but I don’t know if that’s true.”

“The impact of the Gods of the Void breaching the fundamental principles of the Alchemy Tower to attack Alchemists was too great. After an emergency discussion, we came to a terrifying conclusion… The Gods of the Void could not only imitate the soul fluctuation of a mortal Tower Master but could also rewrite the fundamental principles of an Alchemy Tower.”

“Perhaps all Tower Masters who had severed their Soul Fire were already under the control of the Gods of the Void. They could kill the original Tower Master through the loophole in the Alchemy Tower, then imitate his soul fluctuation to control the tower and its alchemical creatures. This is because the mentors at the mage academies had told us that since an Elementalist’s soul is indivisible and a mage apprentice’s soul is unsuitable for division, the Alchemical Empire only permitted mortals to control Alchemy Towers. And since mortals are relatively fragile, a single curse could kill them, so there was no fear of a mortal Tower Master daring to betray the Empire. To protect the mortal Tower Masters, the Empire arranged for them to receive the strictest protection during wartime. Imperial Mages even had to cast protective and monitoring spells on them. Our mortal Tower Master was no exception. Not only was he protected by spells, but he also carried magical artifacts. Yet he still died… Aside from a potential vulnerability in the severed Soul Fire, we couldn’t think of any other cause of death.”

As she spoke, the Ant-man Empress looked at Victor, a strange meaning in her eyes.

Victor had similar concerns when he was first soul-bound to Alchemy Tower No. 7. He had even thought about severing his ties with it but never found a viable method. Over time, he gradually accepted reality and was no longer as afraid as he had been at the beginning. Once Victor stepped into the Saint’s realm and his soul became closely connected to the Elemental Sea of Wind, he had enough confidence to stop worrying about that small, severed piece of his Soul Fire.

Any being attempting to directly attack the soul of the Raging Wind Sword Saint through brute force would not succeed. Not unless they could sever the connection between the Elemental Sea of Wind and the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s level of the soul.

Now, Victor actually needed to use the soul-bond with Alchemy Tower No. 7 to suppress the call of the Elemental Sea of Fire. Otherwise, with the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s soul completely whole, he would immediately receive the ancient memories of the Sun Elves and fully transform into the perfect Sun Elf form.

Of course, when necessary, Victor could take that final step at any moment and accept the gift of the Sun God Frey. However, he was unwilling to accept a predetermined fate and believed that there was power from Creator Taelon Ruier to be unearthed deep within the bloodline of primordial humans.

Victor extended a long, flawless index finger, coalescing a ball of cyan-black wind element. As the wind element rubbed against itself, fine sparks of electricity appeared. The interwoven electric light seemed to ignite the wind element, and a dark red flame flickered at his fingertip.

The flame was as faint as a candle’s, possessing no terrifying power. In just an instant, Victor waved his hand and dispersed the small flame from his fingertip. The Ant-man Empress, however, suddenly felt that the ant retainers she had positioned around the temple were far from enough. Her consciousness immediately left the four-armed ant and issued a command to the War Ant King, who was tracking Beldina, ordering the king to immediately lead a portion of the high-ranking ants back to the Asoerta Temple to participate in the encirclement of His Highness Randall.

By the time the Ant-man Empress’s consciousness descended back into the four-armed ant, she saw the gold-eyed, black-haired His Highness Randall collecting the Rune Crystal of Alchemy Tower No. 7 from the altar on the top level.

Thud, thud, thud. The levitating stones, having lost the support of the Alchemy Tower’s earth elemental force field, crashed onto the stone slabs of the platform. The once grand altar of the temple was now a pile of scattered rubble.

Victor turned his head, a faint smile on his face as he looked at the Ant-man Empress and asked, “What happened to you after that?”

The Ant-man Empress’s gaze was introverted, as if nothing had just happened. She continued in a calm tone, “The Asoerta Temple’s Alchemy Tower was in a remote location, far from the Empire’s territory. With the death of the mortal Tower Master, we lost contact with the upper echelons of the Empire. We didn’t know if the attack by the Gods of the Void was targeted only at our Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower, or if the entire Alchemical Empire was under assault. The Alchemist Maximo dispatched followers, riding Dragonhawks, to both the Empire’s central authority and the Elven city-states to gather information. But they never returned. Our warning spells indicated that the followers had all died on the road. Without a doubt, the Gods of the Void had intercepted Maximo’s followers, completely cutting us off from the outside world.”

“Maximo and I originally planned to organize the Assyrian warriors and the ant army to break through the enemy’s encirclement. But a severe experimental accident thwarted our plans… The Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower went out of control, and Soldier ants attacked our temple garrison. I led the Assyrian warriors to resist the ant-man assault, but Maximo proposed to shut down the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower completely. But how could I let all my heart and soul go to waste? Besides, as an Archmage of the Empire, my combat abilities far surpassed those of the Alchemist Maximo. I had the power to control the situation.”

“Maximo and I had a difference of opinion. In order to continue with my private plan, I locked Maximo in the temple’s prison… This is the weakness of Alchemists. Even though they hold a higher status than Mages, once they are separated from the Imperial hierarchy, I could kill Maximo with a single spell. However, the Great Alchemist was still useful to me, so I didn’t kill him.”

Victor looked the four-armed ant up and down and pressed, “Your private plan? You mean, to establish the Assyrian Empire, master the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower, then change your own form, become sovereign of the Realm of All Spirits, and obtain the power of eternal immortality?”

The Ant-man Empress nodded. “I thought I was using Maximo, and through him, the Secret Order, but in reality, I was the one being used. Of course, Maximo didn’t know the truth… I originally had more time to complete my plan, but the sudden descent of the Gods of the Void put me under immense pressure. I believed that only by transforming into a spirit entity and parasitizing the Realm of All Spirits could I avoid being killed by the Gods of the Void. So, I simply imprisoned Maximo to prevent him from re-establishing contact with the outside world.”

“At that time, the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower only had sixteen Ant-man queens. It took me ten years to capture them one by one, suppressing them in the Assyrian Temple with a secret art and using them as psionic nodes to construct the Realm of All Spirits. All the preparations were complete, with only the final step remaining… I coerced Maximo into rewriting the rune arrangement on the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower’s control crystal. An Alchemist’s personal strength may be lacking, but their willpower is formidable. No matter if I used persuasion or coercion, he refused to cooperate.”

“I planned to bear a child for Maximo and use his offspring to threaten him. But before I even became pregnant, he suddenly agreed to help me rewrite the control crystal for the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower. Although I had my doubts, I was unwilling to delay any longer. In my capacity as the Assyrian Queen, I presided over the first Blood Sacrifice ritual of the Assyrian Kingdom.”

The Ant-man Empress stopped speaking, remaining silent for a long time before she said, “Maximo tampered with the rune arrangement on the control crystal… After all, creating Rune Crystals is an Alchemist’s specialty. My mastery of the study of runes was inferior to Maximo’s, so I didn’t notice the subtle differences in the Elemental Rune Crystal. ‘Angelina’s Throne’ was changed by Maximo into ‘Angelina’s Sorrow’… The Blood Sacrifice was a success, the psionic network of the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower functioned normally, and I transformed into a spirit entity similar to the Gods of the Void, but my will was trapped on Spirit-Devouring Island.”

“…Actually, Maximo had no reason to do that. I concealed my plan from him, but an Alchemist is not a humble mortal and doesn’t have a mortal’s emotional weaknesses. Why did he still set me up in the end? It brought him no benefit. If it wasn’t for some laughable sense of revenge, Maximo must have had a special reason… This is something I still haven’t figured out. However, I suspect it’s related to the Elven Empire. Because the Secret Order was secretly supported by the Elven Empire, the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower was originally meant to be deployed in the Underdark to help the Dark Elves resist the demonic incursion. My plan disrupted the agreement reached between the Elven Empire and the Secret Order…”

Morality should never be a constraint for Archmages and Alchemists, beings of extraordinary essence. Victor agreed with the Ant-man Empress’s perspective. Angelina’s actions were not to be condemned, and the point of interest wasn’t Angelina herself.

“I am curious, who gave you the idea to create the Realm of All Spirits?” Victor asked.

“An ancient book, the specific author unknown. I discovered it by chance in the academy’s secret archives. It recorded the characteristics of the Gros Insectoids’ psionic network and a hypothesis about using psionic energy to transform life forms,” the Ant-man Empress replied. “I happened to be very interested in the subject of psionic spells, so I asked my mentor for information on the Gros Insectoids. My mentor used his channels to help me investigate their current status and received news that a small number of Gros Insectoids might still exist near the Asoerta Mountains in the Endless Forest… You know what happened after that.”

“Of course, by the time I was planning the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower, I had already fallen into a trap set by the School of Life. My mentor was definitely a secret member of the School of Life, and that ancient book was actually the bait he set for me.”

“It wasn’t until over a hundred years later, when Archmage Andrew released me from Spirit-Devouring Island, that I learned of the School of Life’s plot against Angelina. I did not seek retribution. Hatred is meaningless to me. I didn’t ask, so Andrew naturally didn’t waste time explaining my mentor’s true identity. But he told me the whole truth of the God Creation Plan. He also told me that back then, at the same moment the temple’s Alchemy Tower went out of control, all the Tower Masters in the Empire died. The descended Gods of the Void took control of all the Alchemy Towers and alchemical units and launched surprise attacks on the mage and alchemist academies throughout the Empire. Due to the towers losing control, the Highest Council’s communication network was completely paralyzed. The mage and alchemist academies could only fight on their own, and the Empire’s central authority also came under attack by the Gods of the Void. The Highest Council had no time to react. Its members had no choice but to urgently activate the Divine Colossi to deal with the all-out assault from the Gods of the Void.”

“The Divine Colossi truly deserved to be the Alchemical Empire’s ultimate weapon, a legacy from the Dark Age. They could unleash the power of a Supreme Elementalist to its absolute limit. Our Council President piloted the Divine Colossi, killing all the Gods of the Void besieging the Empire’s central authority and expelling them from the Prime Material Plane. But the price of activating the Divine Colossi was the fall of the Council President and numerous Archmages and Grand Alchemists, as well as… the use of ‘The Cage of Rhegzothli.’”

“Wait a moment!” Victor cut in, interrupting the Ant-man Empress. He asked, slightly agitated, “What is the price of activating the Divine Colossi?”

The Ant-man Empress said, “Souls… The souls of the Supreme Elementalist, the Council’s Archmages, and Grand Alchemists. The more souls invested, the longer the Divine Colossi could be sustained. The members of the Highest Council sacrificed themselves to allow the Council President, through the Divine Colossi, to freely unleash the power of a Supreme Elementalist. The perfect body of God-King Wotan was also slain by the Council President. It’s unknown if the Bird of Light’s most beloved offspring perished for good, but there’s no doubt he was grievously wounded by the Divine Colossi.”

“No, no, no… you just said the Highest Council activated ‘The Cage of Rhegzothli’?”

“That’s right. But ‘The Cage of Rhegzothli’ has another name: the ‘Ring of Taelon Ruier’… It is named after the Creator because the Divine Colossi are alchemical puppets exclusively for the Supreme Elementalist, and the Supreme Elementalists are known as the ‘Sons of Taelon Ruier’… The ‘Ring of Taelon Ruier’ was the core activation array for the Divine Colossi.”

Victor had already witnessed the true power of a Spirit Knight, an authority belonging to the Creator that nearly surpassed the limits of his imagination. Victor was stunned for a long while before he murmured, “The Gods of the Void descended upon the Prime Material Plane and attacked the Alchemical Empire’s central authority… that’s equivalent to confronting Taelon Ruier directly?!”

The Ant-man Empress said nothing, tacitly agreeing with Victor’s statement.

“You said that the ‘Ring of Taelon Ruier’ is unique, that it can only be used once?!”

“Yes.”

The Divine Colossi were the Alchemical Empire’s strategic-level weapon, and they could only be used once. On the Prime Material Plane, they were enough to deter any Void God or demon sovereign. And yet, the Gods of the Void had crashed headfirst into them? Willingly?

Spirit Knights were not passed down from generation to generation. The Gods of the Void could have simply waited for the Council President Kognoris to perish from old age before making a move on the Alchemical Empire. But they actually risked annihilation to exhaust the Alchemical Empire’s deterrent strategic force. How did this not benefit the demons of the Abyss more?

Could it be that the Gods of the Void were willing to pay any price to stop the Alchemical Empire’s God Creation Plan?

Logically, that didn’t make sense.

When the Alchemical Empire’s Highest Council decided to push forward with the God Creation Plan, they must have first assessed the factors involving the Gods of the Void. If they had anticipated such a fierce reaction from them, even if they were unwilling to abandon the God Creation Plan, they should have had a contingency plan. They shouldn’t have been caught so completely off guard.

From the sanctuary’s point of view, the reaction of the Gods of the Void was excessive. Even if the Alchemical Empire intended to capture a Void God to serve as a vessel for the Lord of Radiance, for them to descend en masse and face the might of Taelon Ruier directly seemed to be a gift to the demons of the Abyss.

In fact, Victor had a bold guess: the Highest Council hoped to resolve the crisis of the Empire’s fragmentation through the God Creation Plan. They should have communicated with the Gods of the Void. After all, both sides had once been allies against the forces of the Abyss. But if capturing a Void God was something the sanctuary could not know about, the Highest Council must have had thorough measures for secrecy.

Then who was it that leaked the secret of the God Creation Plan to the Gods of the Void in the sanctuary?

Flashes of inspiration sparked in Victor’s mind, yet he found himself sinking into an even denser fog. His tone grew grave as he asked, “Since ‘The Cage of Rhegzothli’ has already been used, who created the current Lord of Radiance?”

“…I’d very much like to know that as well.”

The Ant-man Empress let out a long sigh, then shook her head and said, “The Lord of Radiance’s essential attributes are consistent with the Bird of Light, so it couldn’t have been the demons of the Abyss. The Gods of the Void prevented the Empire’s God Creation Plan, so it couldn’t have been them either. The only remaining possibility is Archmage Andrew of the School of Life… That is why I believe that the Archmage Andrew of the Highest Council and the Archmage Andrew of the Era of the Chosen are the same person.”

“At the very least, they share the same goal, the same legacy.”

Chapter 884: The Final Moment

After trekking for more than thirty consecutive days, Narsen and his party finally reached the first rallying point at the southern end of the Asoerta Mountains. Dozens of third-level Source-Blood Militia emerged from the shadows, fully armed. They had been waiting for a long time.

Sharp-eyed Beldina recognized two of the men and couldn’t help but wave her little hands, cheering and squealing, “Reno! Shak! I’m over here! It’s me, Bel… I’ve grown taller, do you still recognize me?”

“Miss Bel, we recognize you.” Reno and Shak led all the Alchemical Militia in saluting Beldina first.

Ever since Beldina unlocked the memory crystal of the Alchemists of Mist Mountain and inexplicably became an Inspector for the Alchemical Empire, Bel’s status in the eyes of the Alchemical Militia was now second only to their Master, Victor. She held second-level authority over all alchemical creatures, including but not limited to those created by Alchemy Tower No. 7.

Even though Lord Narsen and My Lady Charlotte outranked Beldina within the House of Randell, Reno and Shak still greeted Bel first.

Of course, the members of House Randell interpreted this as Reno and Shak’s fondness for Bel. In any case, as the darling of the group, it was a common sight for Beldina to receive preferential treatment, and no one would ponder the hidden meaning behind such details.

Meeting in the wilderness, the mercenary-born Lord Narsen didn’t bother with the formalities of his house. He strode forward, clapped Reno and Shak hard on the shoulders, and laughed warmly, “Old pals, I thought I’d never see you again.”

Reno smiled back and said, “My lord, we’ve been with the Master for the past six months and haven’t encountered any real danger.”

As some of the earliest pioneers of the Randell Fief, Narsen, Reno, and Shak were very close. However, he had no idea that Reno and the others had actually been remade by the Alchemy Tower and were no longer the old pals he once knew.

On this expedition to the Endless Forest, the alchemical units Victor had brought suffered heavy casualties. They had either been sacrificed in the battle at the temple or lost in the Underground Tunnel. Of the more than two hundred Alchemical Militia, fewer than seventy remained. But it was precisely because of the Alchemical Militia’s desperate cover that Narsen and his party were still alive, with no one killed in action.

Seeing Reno and Shak safe and sound, Narsen was genuinely happy. But before he could say another word, the Dragonkin handmaiden Mewen cut in, her face cold. “The War Ant King is still trailing us. This is no time for idle chatter… Reno, Shak, take Miss Bel and the others to the riverside camp… I will take charge of the rest, along with His Excellency Imosen’s Aberrant Dire Bear. We’ll lead the pursuers away first, then go reinforce My King.”

Narsen’s expression changed instantly. As a Gold-rank Ferocious Warrior, he could constantly feel the danger approaching from behind. The War Ant King was leading several thousand soldier ants, trailing the Randall expedition team from a distance of over four hundred kilometers. In just a day, the Ant King and its Ant-man army could be upon them.

This Ant-man force was equivalent to the War Ant King’s personal guards, containing a considerable number of high-ranking ants and Golden Shield Beetles, making them exceptionally powerful. If the Randall expedition team chose to fight, regardless of the tactics they employed, the outcome would be total annihilation. Even if they chose to flee, it would likely be impossible to escape the War Ant King’s pursuit.

They couldn’t win a fight, and they couldn’t outrun them. The only option now was to lead the pursuers away. Otherwise, if the War Ant King discovered the expedition team’s embarkation point, it would all be over.

The Dragonkin handmaiden Mewen was not only responsible for luring away the War Ant King but also for reinforcing Victor. With the speed of a Dragonoid Ripper, she could easily shake off the War Ant King, but what about the rest of the junior Mind Warriors?

The physiques of these elite warriors were comparable to Bronze Knights, and their stamina was particularly outstanding, but their running speed was average at best. Narsen knew very well that they were embarking on a suicide mission, acting as bait to draw the enemy away from the core members of the house and help the expedition team escape safely, just like their comrades who had perished in the temple and the underground caverns.

At this moment, everyone’s expression was exceptionally grave. Beldina, holding her white wood staff, glanced from side to side, then wisely chose to keep her lips sealed, trying her best to look serious and solemn.

Narsen was vexed, but he also knew the sacrifice of the elite warriors was unavoidable. However, he was more concerned about the safety of his liege lord and secretly decided that he would follow Mewen later to provide backup for Victor.

Once the Dragonkin handmaiden Mewen had led her team away, there would be no one left to restrain Narsen and Caligula, two top-tier Ferocious Warriors. But how could Victor not have anticipated this?

Mewen sent a message to her Master via the Mental Link, informing Victor that the expedition team had rendezvoused with the Alchemical Militia and was preparing to implement the next phase of the plan. Beside her, the air surged, and Victor’s voice suddenly echoed through the air:

“Narsen, you and Caligula are to protect the expedition team, proceed to the designated assembly point, and then follow the Dragonkin handmaiden Dili’s arrangements to board the ship and evacuate… This is my command to you!”

“My lord! My lord…”

Narsen was both surprised and overjoyed, calling out several times, but he received no response from Victor.

“My King has no time to deal with you right now, and neither do I… Commander Narsen, carry out the King’s order. Get them out of here, now.”

Without further explanation, Mewen left the others, turned, and walked straight toward the Groth Broodmother Ann, who was lagging at the rear of the group. She began to converse with her in a low voice, using an ancient tongue that no one else could understand.

Knight Charlotte watched Mewen’s slender, graceful back, sighed softly, and turned to Narsen. “My lord, we must not fail our Master’s expectations.”

Narsen nodded and said decisively, “Reno, Shak, lead the way. We’re leaving now!”

At the southern end of the Asoerta Mountains, the terrain began to level out, but to an ordinary person, they were still majestic mountains. Against the backdrop of overlapping peaks, Narsen’s party seemed as small as ants. The exposed rock was reddish-brown and barren, and walking on its surface effectively concealed their tracks.

The group continued south along the edge of the mountain range, forming a single file line on the rugged mountain path. Narsen, Reno, and Shak were at the front, the three spellcasters were in the middle, and Caligula brought up the rear. By dusk, the sun had sunk completely behind the western side of the mountains, enveloping the entire squad in the mountain’s shadow.

Reno was the first to halt. He pointed ahead and said, “Beyond that mountain pass, there’s a lake formed by a mountain stream. It’s quite large, but the water isn’t deep, so we can wade right through it. That way, our final tracks will be washed away by the lake water. Once we’ve crossed the lake, we can find a place to get ashore, then slip into the forest belt below and cover our trail.”

“Good,” Narsen said, turning to shout, “There’s a lake ahead! We’ll wade through it, and then we can all rest!”

Hearing they could rest soon, everyone’s spirits lifted, and they quickened their pace. After navigating the mountain pass ahead, an elongated lake appeared before the expedition team’s eyes.

Blood Python Macy took off her war boots, walked barefoot into the lake, and tested the water. She turned back and said, “The water is very clean, just a little cold, but it’s bearable… Little sweetheart Bel, let me carry you across.”

Beldina first wrinkled her nose, then lifted her slightly chubby chin and huffed, “Aka is the tallest. I’ll sit on his shoulders… Aka, come here! Huh? Aka, where are you?”

A mountain breeze swept by, but no one answered Bel’s call. Only then did everyone realize that Caligula was gone!

With Caligula’s strength, it was impossible for him to have gotten lost or to have disappeared for no reason.

Without a doubt, His Highness Randell’s most valued retinue had left the group to secretly go and support his master.

Meanwhile, the imposing figure of War Ant King Taorminos, as magnificent as a Giant Rhinoceros Beast, appeared where the expedition team and the Dragonkin handmaiden had parted ways. A dozen or so members of the White-armored Ant race encircling him automatically fanned out, carefully examining the surrounding tracks.

A moment later, a high-ranking guard ant returned and reported to the War Ant King, “King, Beldina’s party has split into two groups, moving in different directions. One group crossed this mountain ridge and headed west; the other continued south. We don’t know which group Beldina is in. However, we can only track the westward-bound group, as that giant dire bear left clear claw marks. The southbound group left only faint human footprints, which will likely disappear soon. If we follow them, we could easily lose their trail.”

Taorminos said nothing. A red light flickered in its crystal-like eyes; its mood was not as calm as it appeared on the surface.

A few days ago, the War Ant King had received a message from the Ant Swarm Sovereign, ordering it to immediately take half its army and return to the temple lair. But Taorminos did not obey the sovereign’s summons, choosing instead to continue tracking Beldina.

Taorminos didn’t know why it was defying the will of Her Majesty the Empress. It just had a vague feeling that it should stay away from the Asoerta Temple right now, or it might end up like the previous War Ant King, Apollis, dead at the hands of His Highness Randell.

In truth, deep within Taorminos’s instincts, there was a thought it didn’t even dare to contemplate: it faintly sensed that the Ant Swarm Sovereign was in great trouble and hoped that His Highness Randell could kill Her.

Of course, Taorminos’s reason told it that this was impossible. The Ant-man Empress had already transcended the life category of high-ranking ants; She was, at the very least, a great existence that Taorminos could not comprehend and could not destroy.

Obey the sovereign’s will, lead the guard ants back to the temple lair to corner that fearsome Demigod, and it might be killed by him. But defying the Ant-man Empress’s command meant it would surely be torn to shreds by the swarm—it was only a matter of time.

No Ant-man can detach from the swarm’s psionic network, and the War Ant King was no exception. In fact, Taorminos had a very strong sense of dependence and belonging toward its race, and this unique emotion constantly constrained its cognition and behavior.

Torn between its fear of death and the swarm’s summons, Taorminos was trapped in an internal struggle, as if its very soul was being ripped to shreds. It had no idea what to do. So it simply severed its psionic link, detached from the rest of its guard ants, and took only a dozen or so high-ranking guard ants to press on ahead of the human expeditionary team. It seemed that as long as it continued to carry out the Ant-man Empress’s previous tracking order, it wasn’t a betrayal of the entire swarm.

Having actively cut itself off from the psionic network of its guard ants, War Ant King Taorminos was at its weakest. It couldn’t even use the Mental Link to communicate with the high-ranking guard ants around it; they could only communicate by speaking. Its Perception had also hit an all-time low.

“King, look! Groth Broodmother Ann is up there!” a male White-armored Ant-man exclaimed, spotting the anomaly on the cliff face even before Taorminos did.

The Groth Broodmother’s massive, bloated body was cloaked in shadow, standing silently on the mountainside like a huge black boulder, exuding a heavy, oppressive aura. The dozen or so high-ranking guard ants immediately spread out and moved to encircle it. A faint light glinted in the Broodmother’s compound eyes, and strange purple patterns lit up on its bone-spur-covered carapace. An invisible wave of psionic energy instantly swept across the area. The high-ranking guard ants, whose life tier was close to Gold-rank, couldn’t withstand the psionic shock from the Groth Broodmother. One after another, they collapsed onto the hillside, all knocked unconscious.

Taorminos turned to the Groth Broodmother and began to walk toward it unhurriedly on its thick limbs. It stopped more than two hundred meters away, looked up, and said, “Ann, you are not skilled in combat. If the sovereign hadn’t ordered me to spare you for now, I could kill you right here.”

The War Ant King was born with the standing of a legendary creature. Even with Taorminos at its weakest, its own power made it an opponent the Groth Broodmother could not hope to defeat.

Ann stared at Taorminos for a moment before speaking emotionlessly, “Lower-ranking insectoids cannot defy higher-ranking ones. This is the law and order of the swarm. Even if the high-ranking guard ants are better fighters than I am, once they are detached from your psionic network, they have no resistance to my mental will. I knocked them out only to avoid the sovereign’s surveillance and have a private conversation with the War Ant King.”

Taorminos asked warily, “What do you want to talk about?”

“…The truth.”

“The truth? What truth?”

Groth Broodmother Ann said, “We are intelligent insectoids of the same rank. You should be able to feel it too… the Ant-man Empress’s true face. She is not the true sovereign of the swarm.”

Taorminos retorted, “The Empress isn’t the sovereign? Then are you, a lowly exiled Broodmother, the sovereign of the swarm?” As it spoke, it strode forward, its carapace-covered feet crushing the rocks on the ground as it adopted an attack posture.

But Ann replied calmly, “I once obeyed the Ant-man Empress’s will absolutely. You and the former War Ant King, Apollis, could never understand the mental state of a high-ranking guard ant. Just as I, a guard ant, could not understand why Apollis defied the Empress’s commands. That is because the War Ant King is higher-ranking and more powerful than the White-armored Ant race, and can slightly resist the Ant-man Empress’s mental will.”

“It wasn’t until the Empress kicked me out of the swarm’s psionic network that I became an exiled insectoid and was freed from my mental shackles. And the Demigod, His Highness Randell, helped me see myself clearly and recognize the truth.”

Of course, the War Ant King would not curse Groth Broodmother Ann as a traitor the way a human would, but it did stop advancing. It remained where it was, very interested in learning the Demigod’s views on the Ant Swarm Sovereign.

Ann continued, “I drank from the Source-Essence Blood Spring in the Assyrian secret realm and was promoted to Groth Broodmother. I discovered that there is a limit to the number of insectoids I can procreate—no more than eight thousand. Before that, His Highness Randell had already pointed out to me that the current Gros Insectoids are not the same as those of ancient times; the swarm is smaller and more flexible. The swarm controlled by the Ant-man Empress is far too large, which goes against the laws of nature. His Highness Randell also said that each Ant-man Queen is actually an independent swarm, but they are manipulated by the Ant-man Empress and forced together into one massive race.”

“Taorminos, the Ant-man Empress doesn’t care about a minor mother of a Gros Swarm like me, but She pays attention to a War Ant King like you. You are still constrained by the psionic network. Under the Ant-man Empress’s control, it’s impossible for you to accept the truth I’ve seen, and you will never admit that the Ant-man Empress is actually a fraudulent sovereign. I will explain just two points to you…”

“First, the Demigod, His Highness Randell, is about to make a move against the Ant-man Empress, just as He did when He killed the Black Blood Sovereign. The Ant-man Empress cannot possibly escape from His Highness Randell’s grasp. You only need to wait patiently for a few days. After the Ant-man Empress perishes, you will gain your freedom and see the truth without me having to tell you.”

“Second is distance… His Highness Randell came here several months ago. He captured a few White-armored Ant-men who were tracking Him and used them to calculate the effective range of the Ant-man Empress’s control over the swarm. The farther a high-ranking ant is from the temple lair, the weaker the Ant-man Empress’s control over it. If the distance exceeds twelve thousand kilometers, the Mental Link between the Ant-man Empress and the high-ranking ant will be severed. The high-ranking ant will then only be bound by its instinctive emotions, carrying out the Ant-man Empress’s last command.”

“I believe you can already feel the Ant-man Empress’s control over you has become very weak. It is precisely because of this distance limitation that the Ant-man Empress needs a War Ant King to command Her Ant-man legions in the distant east, attacking the human kingdoms.”

“I suggest you stop tracking Beldina. That will only provoke the Demigod, His Highness Randell. If you have any other questions… I’m about to go to a certain place to wait for His Highness Randell. That location is already beyond the Ant-man Empress’s range of control over high-ranking ants. You can follow me from a distance. I will choose an appropriate moment to ask His Highness Randell to answer your questions…”

As the Groth Broodmother spoke, she scuttled backward with her sharp, jointed legs. Her massive, bloated figure quickly vanished over the other side of the ridge.

In Victor’s view, the War Ant King Taorminos was a major hidden threat.

He was going to seal the main will of the Ant-man Empress. Logically, the entire swarm should have splintered within a few years, but the War Ant King could, to a certain extent, replace the Ant-man Empress and become the new sovereign of the Ant-man race.

In fact, the War Ant King leading the swarm’s expansion was an initial setting of the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower. Unfortunately, the Ant-man Empress supplanted the Tower Spirit of the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower and used the War Ant King as a mere tool. This man-made contradiction became a loophole Victor could exploit.

The War Ant King had an instinctive desire to rule the swarm, so the Ant-man Empress had to be wary of Taorminos rather than seeing it as a successor. Otherwise, if the Ant-man Empress chose to protect Taorminos, even if Victor successfully sealed the Ant-man Empress’s main consciousness, the massive Ant-man race would remain a single entity.

This was undoubtedly the worst-case scenario. It would even render Victor’s risky endeavor to seal the Ant-man Empress completely meaningless.

Therefore, Victor had to seal the Ant-man Empress first, and then he had to slay Taorminos. Only then could his plan to dismantle the Ant-man race from within be considered a success.

Victor planned to use Groth Broodmother Ann to lure the War Ant King to a designated location. Once he had dealt with the Ant-man Empress, he would then eliminate Taorminos as well.

Of course, Victor knew his own abilities had limits; no one can plan for everything. If Taorminos didn’t fall into the fatal trap, Victor would rather it go to the Oak Savannah and rendezvous with the Ant-man advance legions than return to the Ant-man main nest in the Assyrian Temple.

The Asoerta Temple was, after all, the swarm’s rear base and its place of origin. Trying to eliminate a War Ant King in the swarm’s own lair would be an incredibly difficult task for anyone. In comparison, hunting down the War Ant King on the Oak Savannah seemed much easier.

First seal the Ant-man Empress Angelina, then kill the War Ant King Taorminos. The remaining Ant-man Queens would inevitably fall into endless internal conflict, the Ant-man army would disintegrate, and the threat to the Gambis Kingdom would naturally disappear.

In any case, Victor had, through Groth Broodmother Ann, revealed to War Ant King Taorminos that he was about to move against the Ant-man Empress. To prevent Taorminos from tipping off the Ant-man Empress, the moment for the showdown between Victor and the Ant-man Empress was imminent!

Chapter 885: Memory Bubbles Implanted in the Bloodline

On the peak of the Asoerta Mountains, the snow never melted, reflecting the brilliant sunlight with a blinding glare. The howling mountain wind, seemingly ceaseless, swept up ice crystals and snowflakes, sending them dancing through the air like a great river of ice and snow flowing from north to south.

The majestic Assyrian Temple stood like an unshakeable reef in the middle of this vast river of wind, ice, and snow, silently enduring the violent assault of the blizzard, yet remaining unmoved.

On the temple’s top platform, the four-armed Ant-man set up a psionic barrier, blocking the powerful blizzard outside, while other Ant-men could freely enter and leave without obstruction.

Two White-armored Ant-men walked upright, each of their four arms holding a large iron plate laden with chunks of some unknown roasted meat, various wild fruits, and stone jars filled with a milky liquid. They entered the Ant-man Empress’s psionic barrier, placed the large iron plates on the stone-paved ground, and took away the food that had been delivered previously.

The Ant-man Empress used her psionic force field to levitate a stone jar. Opening Her gracefully shaped little mouth, She drank the viscous, milky liquid inside in one go.

Putting down the stone jar, which resembled a round tripod cauldron, She looked up at Victor. Seeing that he had no intention of taking any food, She smiled and coaxed, “Is Your Highness Randall really not going to try our Ant Jelly? This is a nutrient fluid secreted by the male ants, exclusively for the Ant-man queen. By the standards of the Alchemical Empire, it can be classified as a second-tier extraordinary food ingredient, its effects second only to the Source-Essence Blood Spring. And its flavor is quite unique.”

The diet of ordinary worker ants was incredibly broad: wood, insects, weeds, carrion. Poisonous or not, as long as it wasn’t lethal, they could eat almost anything. These miscellaneous foods passed through the worker ants’ special digestive systems, which extracted a nutrient-rich milky liquid to supply the larvae, some soldier ants, guard ants, and the male ants dedicated to protecting the queen.

The Ant-man Empress explained that after consuming the milky liquid extracted by the worker ants, the male ants could then secrete an even higher-grade nutrient fluid to feed the queen. This fluid was called Ant Jelly.

Ant Jelly had extremely few impurities. It was not only rich in nutrients but also possessed all sorts of incredible, magical effects. While it couldn’t regenerate severed limbs or reverse aging like the Assyrian Fountain of Youth, long-term consumption of Ant Jelly by a mortal could still extend their lifespan and significantly slow the aging process.

Of course, Victor himself had no need for the magical effects of Ant Jelly, and it came from the posteriors of male ants. For this reason alone, His Highness Randall kept a respectful distance from the Ant Jelly.

“Thank you for your kindness, Your Majesty, but I’m not interested.”

“What about this roasted meat? It’s a delicacy I prepared using the culinary methods of the Alchemical Empire. Won’t Your Highness Randall even try a bite?”

“…I’m not hungry, nor am I thirsty. Please, help yourself, Your Majesty.”

“What a shame… I don’t actually need to eat, but this body requires food and water. Your Highness Randall, are you truly fine after thirty-five days without eating or drinking?”

The Randall expedition team had marched day and night for thirty-five consecutive days, trekking over nine thousand kilometers through mountains and rivers. And Victor had been trapped in the Asoerta Temple for a full thirty-five days without a drop of water or a bite of food.

The Ant-man Empress had no intention of starving His Highness Randall to death. She provided food and water, and in great variety. Even though the Ant-man race had never cooked their food, under the Ant-man Empress’s orders, they had prepared a barbecue feast for Victor. The high-ranking ants’ grilling skills were passible, but only because they prepared one hundred portions of roasted meat according to the Ant-man Empress’s recipe and selected only the very best one to present to Victor.

This was likely the first time in the history of the high-ranking ants that they had prepared a human delicacy, yet it was met with His Highness Randall’s heartless refusal.

Victor had abstained from food and drink these past days, partly to guard against the Ant-man Empress adding strange things to them. Although his current constitution could ignore any toxins below the Legendary-rank, and he still carried the Manticore bone bead Sylvia had given him, the fact that the Ant-man Empress could remember a food recipe from over twenty thousand years ago had truly startled him. If an Archmage of the Alchemical Empire could remember a recipe for roasted meat, she was surely no stranger to ancient medicinal formulas. Sometimes, a non-poisonous drug could be more troublesome than a potent venom. Victor had no desire to personally test the Ant-man Empress’s potion-concocting skills.

On the other hand, Victor’s fasting was also a final preparation for their impending showdown.

Due to the prolonged abstinence from food and water, sustained only by absorbing the free-floating elements from the outside world, Victor’s body and mind had undergone astonishing changes. In addition to the water element and moonlight he most commonly absorbed, he had, for the first time, begun to draw in sunlight as a fire element, channeling it into his body in a continuous stream to nourish his bloodline and soul.

The human bloodline of his Twin Talent Tree lay dormant, while his High Elf bloodline had become exceedingly active, in fact surpassing that of a Moon Elf and approaching the life form of a Sun Elf.

Victor’s previous form had been as handsome as a Sky God, yet it always retained a trace of human temperament. Now, however, his black hair had turned the gold of sunlight, and his dark gold eyes had transformed into bright golden irises. When he looked around, he would leave trails of golden light in the air, and his entire being radiated an extraordinary aura, as if an avatar of the Sun God had descended to this place.

Even a blind person could clearly feel the terrifying power contained within Victor. How could the Ant-man Empress not know that His Highness Randall was preparing to break out by force?

Of course, this was quite normal. The Ant-man Legion had sealed off the lone peak where the Asoerta Temple stood like an iron fortress. The Ant-man Empress would have found it strange if the Demigod from the human kingdoms hadn’t reacted. Although She wasn’t worried that His Highness Randall could escape the encirclement, She still wanted to make one last effort to persuade him to cooperate.

“Your Highness, we should both be grateful to Andrew.”

The Ant-man Empress said faintly, “He was an important member of the School of Life, specializing in the study of perpetual Soul Fire and an immortal will. To put it simply, he did not pursue magical power, but rather the essential mysteries of life and the soul. We used to call Archmages like Andrew ‘Mages of Mysteries.’ Most of their spell slots were not used for combat, so their fighting ability was average. Yet Mages of Mysteries were especially respected because their research topics often detached from reality, defied common sense, and were filled with impossibility and uncertainty. But even if their research ultimately ended in failure, the process often brought all Mages brand-new magical knowledge.”

“…The Andrew I knew was also a Mage of Mysteries. He attempted to fuse the traits of an Elementalist and a Mage… You see, an Elementalist is born with the ability to communicate with the origin of the world, whereas a Mage needs long periods of study, training, and meditation to restructure their core spell model just to have a chance to glimpse the world’s origin. But that is merely looking at the scenery from behind a window; it’s absolutely impossible to directly communicate with the Elemental Sea with one’s soul like an Elementalist can.”

“When an Elementalist mobilizes the power of the Elemental Sea, it appears crude, slow, and extremely inefficient, yet it is sufficiently stable and not restricted by spell models. The situation for Mages is the opposite; our use of the Elemental Sea is more efficient than an Elementalist’s, but we are bound by spell models. If something goes wrong with a spell model, an Archmage’s situation becomes very dangerous. Therefore, an Archmage must be particularly cautious when casting spells of the 7th-rank or higher, even needing to gather dozens of Mage followers to conduct a casting ritual as a buffer. What an Elementalist can use at will, an Archmage must spend a longer time preparing for. An Elementalist’s weakness is also obvious: they originally lack spellcasting abilities and need the study of runes to manifest the power of the Elemental Sea onto a concept, such as enchanting an item… During the middle period of the Alchemical Empire, the usual vessel for manifesting elemental runes was the element crystal.”

“Andrew believed that if the traits of an Elementalist and a Mage were fused, the development of magic and Alchemy could enter a whole new dimension, and it could also solve the problem of a Mage’s line of succession… This idea of his actually defied common sense, but Andrew insisted that it was theoretically feasible. Drawing inspiration from the Great Fey’s legacy tree hearts and the Alchemists’ memory crystals, he proposed the concept of ‘Memory Bubbles’.”

“Memory Bubbles?” Victor’s interest was piqued. He pressed, “Could Your Majesty explain in more detail?”

“The royal family of Fey entrust their memories to the hearts of ancient trees, but there is another kind of memory rooted deep within the bloodline. All mythological creatures are vessels for this kind of ancient bloodline memory. The key to a Memory Bubble is to mimic the royal Fey’s method of extracting their own memories and then storing the contents in a specific bloodline. Archmage Andrew planned to implant a Memory Bubble deep within the bloodline of a female Elementalist, containing spell knowledge and a core spell model. This way, a descendant of Archmage Andrew and the female Elementalist might be able to fuse their parents’ traits. Of course, his research experiment was not successful; it even led him down a dead end. But he completed his work on Memory Bubbles and even taught me the method for constructing them. Otherwise, how could I possibly remember things from so long ago, and how would Your Highness Randall learn the secret history of twenty thousand years ago from me?”

Hearing this, Victor’s mood suddenly cleared. From the perspective of an individual life form, Archmage Andrew had not achieved immortality at all. He had simply packaged his memories and passed them down through bloodline inheritance, corrupting the Will Side of his descendants’ souls to grant them Andrew’s memories, knowledge, and experience.

In short, Archmage Andrew of the Alchemical Empire was still treading The Path of the Ancient Behemoths who spread their bloodlines. The theory behind Victor’s Mind Bloodline secret art was not wrong!

However, Archmage Andrew’s method would lead to two problems.

Victor frowned and asked, “Andrew’s experiments on Knights failed, and young Mages appear randomly among ordinary people in very small numbers. How did Archmage Andrew pass on his Memory Bubbles? Was he able to father an entire kingdom’s population? Also, how did he solve the chronological order for opening the Memory Bubbles? If the order was wrong, the lightest consequence would be memory confusion, turning an underaged young Mage into a madman. Adult Mages might be able to resist the memory confusion, but they would never mistake themselves for Andrew.”

The Ant-man Empress replied, “The second Mage Andrew I met may have been his descendant, or maybe not… That Andrew didn’t explain it to me at the time, and I wasn’t interested… As the Ant-man Empress, I cannot pass down a bloodline; I only needed to master the method of creating Memory Bubbles. However, it was not uncommon for Mages of the Alchemical Empire to integrate with other bloodlines or adjust their own. In fact, the vast majority of Mages would find ways to adjust their own bloodlines to obtain a longer lifespan. I speculate that when the second Mage Andrew was just a child and his Mage talent had newly awakened, his bloodline was adjusted by Andrew’s followers, who took the opportunity to tamper with it. He received Archmage Andrew’s most complete memories, and could almost be considered Andrew’s puppet Incarnation.”

A thought struck Victor, and he tentatively asked, “The sacred objects that the Arreat barbarians and Mountain Dwarves offer tribute to… is that bloodline collection and conversion device related to Archmage Andrew?”

“I don’t know.” The Ant-man Empress shook Her head and said, “That formation device is very advanced. I don’t think Archmage Andrew needed it to set up his Memory Bubbles… The Archmage Andrew from the Era of the Chosen invented the Blood Sacrifice ritual, allowing the offspring of Mages to acquire spellcasting talent through bloodline inheritance. That gives me reason enough to believe that he and the Andrew from The Highest Council are the same ‘person’… You could also say he is a successor to Archmage Andrew, and the method of succession was bloodline adjustment plus the unfolding of a Memory Bubble.”

Victor nodded silently, essentially agreeing with the Ant-man Empress’s view.

The Ant-man Empress paused, then asked with deep meaning, “Regarding the chronological issue of unfolding the Memory Bubbles you mentioned… don’t you have the answer yourself? Or did Beldina interpret the alchemist’s memory crystal for you?”

Victor’s heart lurched. He had faced several life-and-death crises, the most dangerous of which was interpreting the ancient alchemist’s memory crystal. The massive influx of information into his mind had nearly killed him on the spot. Victor later built upon the Poltanos Secret Art and developed a secret art specifically for the problem of interpreting memory crystals, one that inverted and swapped the conscious and subconscious minds. Yet he still wasn’t one hundred percent confident he could withstand a simultaneous and disordered flood of information.

Archmage Andrew’s method for unfolding Memory Bubbles would be of invaluable reference to Victor.

The Ant-man Empress clearly saw through Victor’s little scheme. She shook Her head and said, “You are neither a Mage nor a spirit. What’s the point in my telling you the correct method for unfolding Memory Bubbles?”

Victor raised his head and looked directly into the Ant-man Empress’s eyes, his gaze profound as he said, “In that case, why not tell me and let me hear it.”

The Ant-man Empress nodded nonchalantly and said, “Archmage Andrew never told me the specific method he used to unfold the Memory Bubbles. It’s actually a minor problem. I can think of several solutions myself, such as using magical potions to adjust one’s bloodline at different stages. Each successful bloodline adjustment, paired with a special meditation method, could awaken one Memory Bubble… You have no need to know the specific setup; you couldn’t learn it anyway.”

Victor paid no mind to the Ant-man Empress’s scorn. He said thoughtfully, “Setting a condition to trigger the memory, although difficult… that’s a truly brilliant idea.”

The Ant-man Empress could never have imagined that the Mind’s Dominator actually possessed a similar ability. She faintly sensed that His Highness Randall had gained a valuable insight, so She gave him a deep look and continued, “When Archmage Andrew taught me the method of setting up Memory Bubbles, there was one prerequisite: I must never forget my own name. That is the starting point of the Will Side of the soul. If I were to forget my name, I would gradually lose myself to the erosion of the river of time. So, this is the second reason I believe the Andrews of the two eras are the same ‘person’… they are both named ‘Andrew’, and I must never forget the name ‘Angelina’.”

Victor was silent for a moment, then nodded. “A Mage named ‘Andrew’? That’s a clue… If I encounter him in the future, I will also ask him about the Secret History of the Alchemical Empire. However, I am not certain if the Memory Bubbles the ‘Andrews’ awakened are complete enough.”

The Ant-man Empress smiled. “That is precisely why he released me from my cage… As a spirit, I am more qualified than he to preserve the accumulated achievements of the School of Life. Especially with The Highest Council, the Mage Academy, and the Alchemist Academy all having met with disaster, I am the only hope for restoring the alchemical civilization.”

The ancient one, whose will was vested in the four-armed Ant-man, suddenly changed the subject. “Your Highness Randall, don’t you always like to talk about evidence? Fine, I will show you the evidence right now!”

Chapter 886: The Pale One’s Victory

Dozens of high-ranking ant-men ascended the slope of the temple steps, reaching the platform at the top. They brought with them three stone chests, as well as a large Black Blood Demon.

The demon had a peculiar shape. A pair of backward-curving horns sprouted from the top of its head, its massive skull resembling that of a Goat-people, though its expression was savage and vicious. Its gnarled, twisted muscles looked as if they were about to explode. The ends of its forelimbs were a pair of claws, while its hindlimbs had a pair of hooves, and a thick tail dragged behind its rear. Its eye sockets were deeply recessed, and its lidless pupils glinted with a red light that betrayed a sense of frenzied cruelty.

Victor estimated the demon stood 3.9 meters tall and weighed no less than 4000 pounds. It was the type that possessed formidable strength and overflowing vitality. However, it was currently pierced by six thick iron chains, held aloft by six Gold-rank Shield Beetles pulling on them. No matter how loudly it roared or how desperately it struggled, it was all in vain.

The Ant-man Empress paid the Black Blood Demon no mind. With her psionic force field, She levitated the three stone chests from the hands of the White-armored Ant-man. From within, She brought out three pieces of equipment and began her introduction to Victor. “The Highest Council and its direct branches suffered a devastating blow from the Gods of the Void. The real Archmage Andrew probably perished at that time. However, the Gods of the Void likely never expected Andrew to have a method like the Memory Bubble… By the time the second-generation Andrew came to me, the Alchemical Empire had, in fact, already collapsed. The major city-states had declared their independence, forming alliances and even waging war on one another. Andrew believed that I was the last hope for restoring the Empire’s civilization.”

“What Andrew left me was not just the God Creation Plan and the Memory Bubble, but also the magical instruments collected by generations of Archmages from the School of Life. These physical objects are proof enough that I am the Guardian of alchemical civilization!”

A heart-shaped pendant the size of a baby’s fist floated in the air between the Ant-man Empress and Victor. It seemed to be carved from purple durmast wood, its surface bearing an oily patina, yet the wood grain remained clear and beautiful to behold.

“This is ‘The Iron-Skirted Lady’s Treasure’… It is said to be a magical accessory made from the heart of a royal Fey by the first recorded Chosen One among the early humans, ‘the Iron-Skirted Lady.’ Its history can be traced back to the distant Dark Age. The mages of the Alchemical Empire liked to call it the ‘Heart of the Fey Queen.’ During the early days of the Alchemical Empire, Mage King Sedes had the ‘Heart of the Fey Queen’ reworked. He invited an Alchemist to inscribe a set of runic magic arrays inside it, and finally, he inlaid it into a magic staff as its core component… That staff was the Mages’ Association’s most prestigious Legendary magical artifact, ‘Sedes’s Power.’”

“A Mage holding ‘Sedes’s Power’ can cast one ninth-circle spell every two hundred days, one eighth-circle spell every one hundred and twenty days, two seventh-circle spells every eighty days, and three sixth-circle spells every thirty-six days… As for the spells below the sixth circle that are inscribed upon it, I don’t even need to mention them.”

“Sedes’s Power is considered a divine artifact for Mages. Unfortunately, the staff has been destroyed.” The Ant-man Empress shook her head with some regret, then continued, “However, the ‘Heart of the Fey Queen’ was preserved intact. A Mage holding it automatically masters the technique of focused casting, greatly reducing the probability of their spellcasting being interrupted. It can also grant an additional three hundred mana-breaths, increase magical power by fifteen percent and casting speed by thirty percent, and reduce casting cooldowns by twenty percent.”

“‘The Heart of the Fey Queen’ is only effective for Mages. I originally planned to give it to my student, Beldina. Since Beldina is currently your follower, I will ask Your Highness Randell to accept it first and then pass it on to Beldina for me.” The Ant-man Empress waved her hand magnanimously, and the heart-shaped wooden pendant drifted toward Victor.

Victor used his wind elemental perception but detected nothing unusual about this magical item. After a moment’s thought, he reached out his left hand, caught the “Heart of the Fey Queen” floating in the air, and gave it a curious squeeze. He was immediately surprised to find that although it felt smooth like wood, the surface of this Mage’s divine artifact was covered in a subtle force field that resisted his grip.

Seeing this, the Ant-man Empress explained, “This divine artifact has been infused with the willpower of at least dozens of Archmages, including several Chosen Ones, granting it the property of being indestructible with an extremely high priority. It is unlikely that it can be destroyed by pure brute force.”

Victor gave up the idea of testing it further and tucked the historic divine artifact into his pocket. His gaze shifted to the other two pieces of equipment. He pointed to a metal longsword and asked, “Is this sword also a divine artifact?”

The longsword he indicated was exquisitely beautiful in design. Its long, bright blade shimmered with a faint, ethereal glow. Four meticulously polished element crystals of the four elemental systems were inlaid at its hilt, and along each side of the blade was a set of strange black runes, forged from none other than Saron Demon Iron.

With a thought from the Ant-man Empress, the longsword floating in mid-air spun around and came to rest before Victor. She said, “This is an Elemental Rune Sword, forged from Adamantine, Thorium, Mithril, and Saron Demon Iron, and inlaid with four first-class quality natural element crystals. It possesses the properties of sharpness, sturdiness, and restoration. It originally belonged to the Alchemist Maximo and was one of the components of a Great Alchemist’s rune set… Every Great Alchemist has their own rune set, so it’s not really considered a divine artifact.”

“Alchemists generally do not need to fight personally, but they must have a certain degree of self-protection. A rune set can amplify their combat power several times over. For example, with this Elemental Rune Sword, Maximo could simply activate the elemental power contained within the natural element crystals to transcend the limits of his own elemental affinity. He could mobilize the power of the Elemental Sea of Fire, the Elemental Sea of Wind, and the Elemental Sea of Water, while also avoiding the erosion from the Elemental Seas, until the power of the natural element crystals was depleted. When that happens, he could simply replace the natural element crystals and use it again.”

“This Alchemist’s Elemental Rune Sword, I wish to entrust Your Highness Randell with gifting it to Lady Sylvia, as a sign of my respect for the Supreme One.” The four-armed ant-person bowed slightly. It was less that the Ant-man Empress was bowing to Victor and more that She was paying respects to the Spirit Knight.

Victor gripped the hilt, and with a flick of his wrist, he easily plunged the Elemental Rune Sword into the stone slab of the platform. A faint, unreadable smile touched his lips as he asked, “You give a divine artifact to a Chosen One, but your gift to a Supreme Elementalist is merely an ordinary Alchemist’s sidearm?”

The Ant-man Empress responded nonchalantly, “Whether something is a divine artifact depends on its user. Take the ‘Heart of the Fey Queen,’ for instance. It’s a complete waste in the hands of that Rogue Wizard, Imosen. Only in Beldina’s hands can it be called a divine artifact. That is the difference between a fool and a genius.”

In the Ant-man Empress’s eyes, Imosen, whom Victor valued greatly, was just a foolish Rogue Wizard who didn’t even have the right to hold the “Heart of the Fey Queen.”

Victor could not voice any objection. Even though the Ant-man Empress had lost her ability to cast spells, She was still an authority in the field of magic.

The Ant-man Empress continued, “I cannot imagine what kind of power this Elemental Rune Sword could unleash in Sylvia’s hands, but as her partner, you should understand that a Supreme Elementalist is constrained by the origin of the world. An Alchemist’s Elemental Rune Set can help an Elementalist bypass this restriction… A Supreme Elementalist cannot act rashly, but I know that the Alchemical Empire once had a Supreme Elementalist who, through his own martial prowess, subjugated the Sun Elf Emperor of the Elven Empire. Without an Elemental Rune Set, that would have been a very difficult feat, even for a Supreme Elementalist.”

A Gold Knight could harness the power within element crystals, but their application was rather crude. For an Extraordinary Knight, element crystals were more for show than for real combat. This was especially true for Silver Knights; they were better off not even trying to use the power of element crystals, as that would only disrupt the balance of the four elemental systems.

The Elementalists of the Alchemical Empire had clearly solved this problem. Even if the Alchemists themselves did not enter the battlefield, the rune sets could help Elementalists gain even greater combat power. Compared to a Legendary magical item like the “Heart of the Fey Queen,” the Elemental Rune Set had the potential for widespread use. That was what Victor truly valued.

Victor nodded, his gaze shifting away from the Elemental Rune Sword. “There’s only a sword here. Where are the other parts of the set?”

The Ant-man Empress replied, “Maximo’s rune set was destroyed long ago. But I know that during the later period of the Alchemical Empire, a group of Alchemists advocated for improving runic equipment and extraordinary potions to enhance the individual strength of Elementalists and Mages, thereby strengthening the rule of the Highest Council. They applied for some resources from the Highest Council and achieved some results. My Memory Bubbles contain the coordinates of their research sites. If we have the chance in the future, we can excavate those ruins. I believe there will certainly be Elemental Rune Sets specifically designed for Supreme Elementalists inside.”

Victor had read similar information in the memory crystals of the Alchemists of Mist Mountain and had a rough idea that those ancient alchemists’ research sites were located somewhere in the east. The intelligence provided by the Ant-man Empress was largely consistent with the content of the memory crystals.

Victor’s eyes fell on the last piece of equipment. It was a pair of old, even somewhat damaged bone weapons. They resembled the hooked claws of a praying mantis, or perhaps two short-handled scythes that could open and close. When fully extended, they became a pair of short, inwardly curved blades.

Compared to the previous two extraordinary wondrous objects, the dull, gray bone scythes seemed unremarkable. Yet Victor did not look down on them in the slightest; on the contrary, he felt a certain extra anticipation.

Could this be the treasure the Ant-man Empress is using to bribe me? Victor couldn’t help but let his imagination run wild.

“This is ‘The Pale One’s Victory,’ also known as ‘Death’s Twin Scythes’… The one on the left is ‘Spirit-Snatcher,’ and the one on the right is ‘Blood-Drinker.’ They originated from the middle period of the Alchemical Empire, forged from the bones of the demon lord, Soul-Hunter Nok’bayartan, and possess a ‘living’ characteristic.”

The Ant-man Empress suddenly reached out with both hands, grasping the hilts of the two battered bone blades. She turned and swiftly plunged them into the body of the goat-headed demon. The Black Blood Demon’s physique was massive and robust, a palpable sense of power practically overflowing from its body, forming a stark contrast with the four-armed ant-person’s slender and delicate figure. To the Black Blood Demon, the short bone blades were like two insignificant toothpicks. However, the instant the blades pierced the demon’s muscles, it lifted its head, trying to roar, but not a single sound escaped. Its red eyes rapidly lost their luster, as if coated by a layer of murky dust, and an aura of decay and death emanated from within.

“During the second demonic tide, the demon armies of the Abyss Plane invaded the human kingdoms. Among them was a humble and weak Clawed demon who, through its own cunning and brutality, constantly killed and evolved, escaping its fate as cannon fodder. Its claws ended countless lives; its victims included humans, elves, Dwarves, Halflings, Barbarians, beastmen, Gods of the Void, and even other demons… In its endless slaughter, it earned many titles: ‘The Lone Demon,’ ‘Shadow of Death,’ ‘Crimson Tyrant,’ ‘Soul-Hunter,’ ‘Favored Child of the Abyss’s Will’… That was Nok’bayartan, a high-ranking demon lord who nearly became a demon prince.”

“Life trembled beneath Nok’bayartan’s hooked scythe-claws. The souls of the innocent were His favorite food. He walked alone, unrivaled… until one day, He encountered the legendary hero of the human kingdoms—the Pale Knight… The demon lord known as Death finally died…”

“In the war against the demons of the Abyss, all the intelligent races of the main plane rose up to resist, and many great heroes who stood against the tide emerged. The Pale Knight was the most remarkable legend among them… History did not record his name, because pallor and weakness have always been synonymous with mortals. The Pale Knight, in the body of a mortal, with an ordinary lance, sang the dirge of Soul-Hunter Nok’bayartan and wrote a legend belonging to mortals.”

“When I was still Angelina, I firmly believed that the Gods of the Void were inspired by the Pale Knight to bestow the Art of Void Creation upon the Alchemical Empire. The hooked claws of Soul-Hunter Nok’bayartan, which had ended countless lives, were his war trophy. The Gods of the Void used the demon lord’s claws to forge this divine artifact for the Pale Knight.”

The goat-headed demon’s strong body visibly lost its vitality, withering and shriveling. The two bone blades, however, developed blood-colored patterns and took on an ominous black aura.

The Ant-man Empress pulled the two bone scythes from the demon’s corpse. A black, gel-like substance flowed and swirled on the surface of the scythes, connecting them into one, gradually transforming them into a giant, long-handled scythe adorned with grotesque carvings.

“‘Death’s Twin Wings,’ a Legendary divine artifact. It possesses the characteristics of being alive, an innate Spirit Siphon, growth and transformation, the Power of Annihilation, curse, and Sacrificial Symbiosis. The more powerful the life sacrificed by the wielder, the more pronounced its effects. It can increase the wielder’s maximum Spirit attribute by up to thirty percent, while also granting abilities like wild intuition, will to kill, Soul Intimidation, and Extraordinary Regeneration. It also greatly enhances the wielder’s strength, agility, resistance, and life potential, and even offers a chance to comprehend the Pale Knight’s unparalleled combat skills.”

The Ant-man Empress gently swung the giant, long-handled scythe and asked, as if to herself, “I raised a sixth-rank demon as a Sacrificial offering for ‘Death’s Twin Wings’… How powerful do you think this divine artifact is now?”

Victor’s pupils contracted slightly. His tone was placid as he said, “This divine artifact, are you planning to give it to me? But I feel some resistance to it, even… revulsion.”

The Ant-man Empress shook her head, then nodded. “I desire nothing but eternity. If Your Highness Randell wants this divine artifact, I can give it to Your Highness. But I must clarify that ‘The Pale One’s Victory’ can only be wielded by mortals and demons. It possesses a strongly negative nature. Your Highness Randell occupies the position of a Sun Elf. As a mythological creature of a positive nature, it is quite normal for you to instinctively feel revulsion towards it. And we, the Ant-man race, originate from the ancient Gros Insectoids, so we can also be considered a type of demon.”

The Ant-man Empress was implying that ‘Death’s Twin Wings,’ which She now held, could serve as a counter to a Sun Elf. Faced with her blackmail, a cold smile involuntarily appeared on Victor’s face.

However, the way the Ant-man Empress had presented a divine artifact for Mages, an extraordinary piece of equipment for High-ranked Knights, and finally, a divine artifact for mortals was quite interesting. The meaning She wished to convey was clear.

Sure enough, the Ant-man Empress paused, then added, “The things Andrew left me are far more than just these three items, but no magical instrument could satisfy a Sun Elf. Moreover, with the changing of epochs, many precious ancient wondrous objects have lost their effectiveness… Your Highness Randell, you should be able to understand that the knowledge and secrets I possess are far more valuable than these divine artifacts. I have the manufacturing methods for Alchemical puppets; I know the formulas for almost every type of magical potion; I know the locations of the Empire’s Alchemy Towers… Help me ascend to the Angelic Throne, and everything I own can be yours in exchange!”

Victor sat back down in the stone chair, leaned back, and crossed his legs. His posture was lazy as he said, “That sounds pretty good.”

The Ant-man Empress hid the divine scythe behind her back, took a few steps forward, and extended an arm toward Victor. In a deep voice, she said, “Then let’s start by exchanging the divine crystal in your hand… Return the crystal that belongs to me, and ‘The Pale One’s Victory’ will be yours, Your Highness.”

The patterns on the four-armed ant-person’s body lit up with a faint glow. The six Gold-rank Shield Beetles immediately moved forward, forming a four-meter-high wall that trapped Victor in the middle.

Victor wasn’t too concerned about the Shield Beetles, which hadn’t ignited their fire of the mind. They lacked wisdom and their movements were too clumsy to pose much of a threat to a Raging Wind Sword Saint. However, the great scythe hidden behind the Ant-man Empress’s back seemed to devour the sunlight, its ghastly white blade emanating a faint, hazy gray-black mist.

These phenomena were invisible to the naked eye; they were a purely intuitive sensation on the mental level.

With “Death’s Twin Wings” in the Ant-man Empress’s grasp, Victor felt a sharp, chilling sensation that pierced straight to his mind, a stinging pain that originated from his very soul.

A thick aura of death, like a shadow the sun could not dispel, was pressing in on Victor, step by step.

Chapter 887: The Power of the Mind’s Dominator

The Ant-man Empress held the ancient divine artifact, her eyes staring indifferently at the unarmed Victor. Six Giant Shield Beetles, each nearly four meters tall, surrounded the Ant-man Empress and Victor. Behind them stood twenty-four high-ranking guard ants. According to the Elven Empire’s standards for classifying life forms, these ant-men would be considered fifth-rank monsters. In the human kingdoms, scholars of monsterology would deem them to possess Gold-rank strength.

Of course, strength did not equate directly to combat power.

By now, Victor had a considerable understanding of the Ant-man race. In their society, individual consciousness was completely subservient to the collective will, which made it difficult for individual power to develop. Because the ant swarms’ absolute obedience to orders superseded their own instinctual fear of death, it was impossible for them to evolve the talent of wild intuition. The fire of the mind, meanwhile, placed special emphasis on internal and external harmony—the unity of body and mind. An Ant-man’s mind was passively linked to the psionic network of the swarm, making it harder than reaching for the heavens to ignite the fire of the mind.

In terms of combat, the Ant-man race’s strengths and weaknesses were equally prominent. They excelled at group attacks but were ill-suited for one-on-one duels. The high-ranking guard ants were not born with the talent for combat intuition, and it was extremely difficult for them to ignite the fire of the mind. These twenty-four White-armored Ant-men fought relying only on their physical conditioning and psionic talents. Any Silver-rank Raging Wave Knight could likely kill them all single-handedly. Even with the six Giant Shield Beetles, it would be futile. The Shield Beetles were mindless; faced with a Raging Wave Knight who had resonated with thirty-six Elemental Nodes, they would be completely overwhelmed.

Victor believed that apart from the two War Ant Kings, the combat capabilities of the other ant-men, including the four-armed Ant-man controlled by the Empress, were not worth mentioning.

The War Ant Kings occupied a position in the swarm equivalent to an end-point of the psionic network, making it easy for them to ignite the fire of the mind. The Ant-man Empress was, of course, also an end-point. Unfortunately, She didn’t even have a body of her own and had been forced to descend her primary consciousness into the body of a four-armed Ant-man. Even if the four-armed Ant-man could have originally ignited its fire of the mind, it was now extinguished.

Though the individual combat prowess of the ant-men was underwhelming, their strength in group combat was indeed immense. A low-ranking guard ant leading several hundred soldier ants was a force that even a Silver-rank Raging Wave Knight would have to detour to avoid. Only a Gold Knight could wipe out an entire nest alone. This demonstrated that a guard ant with a nest of soldier ants possessed a combat power approaching Gold-rank.

The ant-men now besieging Victor were not one nest, but several hundred. However, the platform atop the temple was a spot Victor had deliberately chosen. The area was not large; for the tens of thousands of combatant ant-men to attack Victor, they would first have to form a line. If the high-ranking ants could not effectively pin Victor down, he could actually hold the platform for a very long time, until his vigor was depleted.

More than twenty White-armored Ant-men plus six Shield Beetles were still no match for a Raging Wind Sword Saint. As for the Ant-man Empress, Victor suspected that this old relic, who had lived for over twenty thousand years, fundamentally did not know how to fight. When She descended into the body of the four-armed Ant-man, her psionic power might have been immense, but her body and mind could not synchronize. Victor could kill the four-armed Ant-man in an instant, his speed guaranteed to exceed his opponent’s reaction time, rendering any amount of psionic power useless.

What Victor had not expected was that the Ant-man Empress actually possessed a combat divine artifact from the ancient Alchemical Empire. She had sacrificed a Black Blood Demon, and “Death’s Twin Wings” had transformed into a giant, long-handled scythe. Holding the activated divine artifact, the Ant-man Empress was now in a state of internal and external harmony, and the openings Victor had perceived in her vanished.

For the first time since his birth, Victor felt a mortal peril. It was important to note that he did not possess a Ferocious warrior’s mind talent for sensing danger. Yet this sense of peril was so intense it felt like a sharp longsword pressed directly against his soul. Even X-3 could barely suppress an instinctual shudder.

Evidently, the awakened “Death’s Twin Wings” not only commanded the wielder’s physical and mental state, bestowing upon the four-armed Ant-man an exceptional combat instinct, but had also ignited its fire of the mind. Its innate will to kill was now locked onto Victor’s soul. Fortunately, Victor’s spiritual will was extraordinarily strong, and he suffered no mental damage, but it did have an adverse effect on him.

Now that the situation had changed, Victor’s previous preparations seemed insufficient. He decided to alter his strategy on the fly, to try and buy himself some more time.

“I have interpreted the memory crystal left by the Great Alchemist Maximo. Would you like to know what he said about Angelina?” Victor asked softly, crossing his legs and settling calmly into the stone chair on the platform. He took out the Ant-man Empress’s divine crystal.

The Ant-man Empress did not speak. Her gaze shifted to the divine crystal in Victor’s hand. “Why don’t we complete the exchange first, and then discuss other matters.”

Victor pinched “Angelina’s Sorrow” between his fingers, shaking his head with a sigh. “Maximo said he wronged you, but he doesn’t regret his decision…”

The Ant-man Empress paused for a moment, then replied, “The loves and hatreds of over twenty thousand years ago hold no meaning for me.”

Victor sized up the four-armed Ant-man, observing Her expression as he said, “I seem to have misremembered. Maximo said he never regretted his decision.”

After hearing this, the Ant-man Empress merely nodded and asked again, “Your Highness Randell, does my entanglement with Maximo have any meaning for you?”

To the Ant-man Empress’s surprise, Victor sat up straight, his expression exceptionally grave as he nodded. “It does. It reminds me of the failed God Creation Plan, and of a past event…”

“Let’s first talk about the grievances between Maximo and Angelina. Mage Angelina unwittingly became a test subject for the School of Life. She used Maximo to complete her transformation from a human Mage into an immortal spirit body, and they were, indeed, lovers. Although Angelina concealed her ambition from Maximo, she never did anything to harm him. I even believe that Angelina’s final choice to forsake her identity as a human female mage was driven by the pressures and guidance of external circumstances. It was especially when they were trapped in the Assyrian Temple’s proving ground, with the Alchemy Tower out of control and all contact with the Alchemical Empire lost, that Angelina made up her mind to transform herself into the Ant-man Empress, something akin to the Gods of the Void. Only in this way could she and Maximo protect themselves.”

“Angelina concealed the truth from her lover, but that was before the Gods of the Void sealed off the Alchemical Empire. With the situation in the temple’s proving ground so critical, she had no need to continue deceiving Maximo; on the contrary, she needed his help. In fact, Angelina trusted until the very end that Maximo would help her modify the rune sequence on the divine crystal. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have been betrayed by her lover and trapped on Spirit-Devouring Island for over a hundred years.”

At this, Victor smiled faintly. “I understand Gold Knights. Their divine nature outweighs their humanity, their reason outweighs their emotion. From any perspective, Maximo should have fulfilled his lover’s wishes, yet he did not… Even though he privately admitted to having wronged Angelina, he still affirmed his choice!”

“What would cause an Extraordinary Knight to make such a contradictory judgment? I imagine no one knows the reason for this better than you!”

The Ant-man Empress thought for a moment, then pressed, “Who are you talking to?”

“Of course I’m not talking to you.” Victor stared deeply into the eyes of the four-armed Ant-man, his gaze seeming to pierce through her mind and land on some unknown existence. “The same situation occurred within The Highest Council of the Alchemical Empire. Those Great Alchemists, Archmages, and especially the Council President, a Spirit Knight, all possessed exceptional wisdom. Assuming they hadn’t fully considered your influence, how could the President of The Highest Council have possibly approved the God Creation Plan so rashly? I believe they were not only fully prepared, but may have even had your tacit approval. After all, the Art of Void Creation and the Lord of Radiance share the same origin, both stemming from the perfect body of the Gods of the Sanctuary. Without your covert support, there would be no Lord of Radiance, and no Radiant Archangels capable of manifesting a divine form on the Prime Material Plane.”

“Therefore, I have a bold guess. At the critical moment when The Highest Council was implementing the God Creation Plan, you risked a backlash from the Spirit Knights and destroyed the Alchemical Empire’s central authority in one fell swoop. Your goal was not to stop The Highest Council’s God Creation Plan, but to seize the Lord of Radiance from the hands of humanity!”

The Ant-man Empress couldn’t help but interject, “Are you speaking to the Gods of the Void? Do you believe I am one of them in disguise?”

Victor waved his hand, signaling for the Ant-man Empress to be patient. He caressed the divine art ring on the middle finger of his left hand and continued, “Note, I said goal, not objective… Your ultimate objective is actually the same as the demons of the Abyss: to use primordial humans as a key to gain entry into the Prime Material Plane. The difference is that the demons of the Abyss crave the souls and flesh of primordial beings, while you only need to harvest their spiritual power.”

“…When I first descended into this world, I inexplicably became the Tower Master of the Alchemy Tower. I thought at the time, how could something so good fall into my lap? This question has been circling in my mind ever since…”

The light in the corners of Victor’s eyes gradually transformed into a semi-corporeal golden mist. The ceaseless mountain wind grew more violent and fierce, and fine ice crystals and snowflakes pelted the Ant-man Empress’s psionic barrier, creating a crackling sound. But the Ant-man Empress’s mind was completely captivated by His Highness Randell’s words, as she heard him say:

“I tried to unravel the mysteries of the Alchemy Tower, and I was also very curious: where did the gold coins I sacrificed go? And where did the resources the Alchemical Empire sacrificed to the Alchemy Tower go? I’m guessing you ate them… Please allow me to use the word ‘eat’ to describe the sacrificial exchange of the Alchemy Tower. Well, all creatures on the Prime Material Plane survive by ‘eating’—transforming foreign substances into a part of themselves. Of course, what you ‘eat’ might be the Laws, but the principle is the same… I never posed this question to the Ant-man Empress to confirm my theory. That is because, through the Assyrian Wizard King’s Soul Mask, I entered the Realm of All Spirits, and then I saw the answer to this question… The Will Side of the soul of the Assyrians had actually recreated a real world!”

“I estimate that the sanctuary you inhabit is probably in dire straits. So you used the Alchemy Tower to steal and replicate Taelon Ruier’s material Laws to sustain your sanctuary plane. Unfortunately, how could the world’s will allow you to continue doing so? As the world’s Laws grew more rigorous, many alchemical creatures could no longer manifest. You had to constantly analyze new Laws, but you couldn’t keep up with the evolution of the world’s Laws. So, you changed your strategy, intending to use the Lord of Radiance to replace the Alchemy Tower. The Highest Council of the Alchemical Empire became an object you had to eliminate.”

At this point, the Ant-man Empress interjected, “A very interesting theory… It seems Your Highness is convinced I am a sovereign of the Ant-man race impersonated by a God of the Void. I do not wish to argue… I am merely curious, Your Highness said earlier that you were reminded of a past event. What was that?”

“A past event? Hmm… It is indeed a past event.” Victor nodded and said pensively, “Over a decade ago, I had just been born in the Centaur Hills of the human kingdoms. In the plaza of the Church in Black Fortress Town, I personally witnessed a Purification Ceremony held by the Radiant Church. Gardener Will, a pitiful Wild wizard and also a devout believer in the Lord of Radiance, had never done anything wrong, yet he was sentenced to a cruel execution by fire at the hands of the Church’s clergy… I felt very uneasy at the time, even had the thought of overthrowing the Radiant Church. But a scene just before gardener Will’s death immediately changed my mind… The moment the Will Side of his soul completely collapsed, a consciousness temporarily occupied his soul and, with a condescending posture, roared in fury: You will not succeed… From that, I was convinced that gardener Will was, without a doubt, the son of a Devil.”

“Several years later, as my power and influence grew, I came into contact with more secrets and gained a whole new perspective on that past event.” Victor paused, then continued, “Gardener Will was just a Wizard, not the son of any Devil. But Wizards have a connection to the Gods of the Void, or demon lords, on the level of Law. When his soul collapsed, an extraordinary being could briefly descend upon him… In truth, I don’t know who that being was. Speaking through the wizard Will, it cried, ‘You will not succeed.’ Who exactly was it referring to, and what would they not succeed at?”

“The Radiant Church did not necessarily have to Purify Will; that was certainly not the clergy’s objective. In fact, Wild wizards in the human kingdoms have always coexisted with the Church. But for the clergy to publicly burn the wizard Will at the stake in the Church plaza was to admonish the populace not to believe in evil gods! Or rather, we cannot accept the rule of faith by the Gods of the Void!”

“The first precept of the Radiant Code: ‘Man shall not act in the name of God’… I initially thought His Majesty Inoc established this primary precept to prevent the power of the Church from falling into other hands. Now I understand. The first precept is aimed at the Gods of the Void!”

“I don’t know what went wrong with you. In any case, your attempt to occupy the Lord of Radiance and rule human faith has failed.”

The Ant-man Empress shook her head, denying it. “I am not one of the Gods of the Void. I am the Archmage of the Alchemical Empire, Angelina…”

Victor sighed, stood up from the stone seat, and looked at the four-armed Ant-man with a hint of pity in his eyes. “I particularly like something you once said: ‘A Mage observes the Elemental Sea through a window.’ Are the Gods of the Void not also peering at our world through Wizards, through the Alchemy Tower, through you? The love and hate between Maximo and Angelina is meaningless to you because you have long since abandoned your human form of life. How could you possibly possess any humanity? I truly doubt you even know what you are. On what basis are you certain you are not one of the Gods of the Void?”

“Whether you are one of them or not, it no longer matters… With the first precept of the Radiant Code in place, do you really think you can ascend to the Radiant Angelic Throne?”

Crack! A sharp sound echoed as a silver-white serpent of lightning furiously struck the psionic barrier the Ant-man Empress had erected. She was jolted back to reality, and the twelve pairs of magic tattoos on her body burst into light as she marshaled all her psionic energy to mend the cracks in the barrier. But outside, a terrifying vortex of wind elements had already formed—an inverted funnel hundreds of meters high connecting the temple to the sky. The immense wind pressure made it almost impossible for the Ant-man Empress to breathe.

“This level of power… How is this possible?!” The Ant-man Empress, whose mind was as deep as the Abyss, finally lost her composure, her voice sharp as she demanded, “Who exactly are you?!”

“Me? An outsider, which is why I always see things more clearly than others…”

Victor let out a low, soft laugh. His pupils shone like the sun in the sky, circled by halos of yellow, blue, and green light. Platinum-gold sacred runes swirled at his sides. He stretched out his hands and gave a soft grasp, conjuring two ten-meter-long void wind element spears out of thin air.

“You have seen it before, when I slew the Black Blood Sovereign… The Moon Goddess’s sacred object granted me unprecedented power. But, even now without the domain enhancement of ‘Freya’s Tear,’ whatever the world permits, whatever I have perceived, I can reclaim… Because, I am the Mind’s Dominator!”

The void wind element spears, like two bolts of azure lightning, stabbed into the psionic barrier the Ant-man Empress was struggling to maintain. With a thunderous BOOM, the tough, dense psionic barrier shattered instantly. An endless torrent of wind elements shrieked down from the sky, and a black tornado swiftly engulfed the entire Asoerta Temple.

Chapter 888: The Scales of the Mind

A pitch-black tornado, like a furious ancient monster, descended upon the lone peak of the Asoerta Temple, carrying with it the power to shred all existence. Its furious roars drowned out all other sounds, silencing the world and draining the color from the sky.

Faced with this cataclysmic force of nature, tens of thousands of Ant-man soldiers were as insignificant as withered leaves and grass, with no ability to resist.

The tornado, a column of air hundreds of meters tall, descended, and the Ant-men on the top platform were the first to suffer. Six four-meter-tall Giant Shield Beetles, despite possessing Gold-rank strength and defense, were relatively light. They clung to the stone slabs, their segmented claws hooking into the crevices between the stones, but they held on for only two or three seconds before being swept away by the terrifying hurricane.

The relatively smaller high-ranking guard ants, with their nimbler limbs and the protection of their psionic force fields, were able to hold on to the platform floor and last longer. But at that very moment, the Ant-man Empress seized their psionic energy, extinguishing their lives. They became limp corpses, like curled-up fallen leaves, and vanished into the storm in the blink of an eye.

In the Ant-man Empress’s long life, She had never witnessed such a terrifying natural disaster. Back when She was the Mage Angelina, She had heard that natural windstorms often occurred in the depths of the great sea at the easternmost edge of the continent. Wind speeds reaching eighty meters every 1.6 seconds—the smallest interval of mana fluctuation—could stir up monstrous waves tens of meters high. If such a sea storm were to make landfall, even century-old trees would be uprooted by the powerful currents of air.

Based on these natural disasters, the Archmages of the Alchemical Empire had invented a Tier 9 spell: the Four Chapters of Disaster. The Wind Disaster Chapter mimicked the sea storms and could only be cast during the annual Season of Wind. The casting conditions were extremely strict, and the spell’s effects often failed to reach the level of a true sea storm, but its destructive power was enough to annihilate an army.

The tornado His Highness Randall had just summoned had a might that surpassed that of an ordinary sea storm. Within the tempest ravaging the temple’s peak were streaks of cyan-black air currents. These were unnaturally formed wind elements, several times denser than ordinary air, possessing cutting, bludgeoning, and explosive destructive capabilities. These wind currents were like ancient giant pythons, rampaging through the vortex of the storm. Whenever they slammed into thick stone walls or rock faces, they would explode into violent gusts of air, causing the tornado to grow even more rapidly.

In a matter of moments, the tornado wrapped around the upper half of the temple’s lone peak like a thick cocoon.

The Ant-man soldiers outside the temple, having received no command from the Ant-man Empress, remained silently in place. As the storm descended from the sky, some were smashed against the walls by the berserk wind elements and torn to shreds, but most were swept away by the storm, their fate unknown.

In addition, the tornado seemed to be imbued with His Highness Randall’s psionic abilities. The eight-legged blade-insects, which had clearly adapted to the harsh, snow-covered environment, were hiding in the crevices of the cliffs and should have been the least likely to be blown away by the blizzard of snow and ice crystals. Yet, as the storm swept past the cliffs, they fell like frozen crabs, only to be tossed into the air by the raging currents.

Although the Ant-man Empress no longer possessed the spellcasting talents of a human Mage, She still retained the discerning eye of a high-tier spellcaster. She was certain that the magnitude of this meteorological catastrophe had already surpassed Tier 9, reaching the legendary Tier 10.

The Ant-man Empress had only witnessed Tier 10 extraordinary power twice, and both times it had originated from His Highness Randall.

During the battle at the temple over a year ago, His Highness Randall had manifested the hand of a storm giant and forcibly knocked the Pale Sovereign down a rank in standing. That irresistible might had left an indelible impression on the Ant-man Empress.

Therefore, the moment His Highness Randall initiated the disaster, Her first reaction was not to command the ant swarms to flee into the temple for safety, but to forcibly seize the psionic energy of the high-ranking guard ants and then unfold layer after layer of psionic shields, protecting Herself first and foremost.

When facing a powerful enemy, one must first ensure their own protection—this was a combat habit of the Empire’s Mages. Even though the Ant-man Empress was using Her full strength to defend Herself, She still felt that if His Highness Randall were to manifest the hand of the storm giant, She would be crushed to death in an instant.

However, the anticipated hand of the storm giant did not appear. The storm tornado His Highness Randall had unleashed was merely a meteorological cataclysm.

The tornado swept through the Ant-man legion outside the temple, scattering the tens of thousands of Ant-men. The encirclement the Ant-man Empress had arranged instantly became a joke.

Legend had it that Ancient Behemoths possessed the power to change the environment, and certain mythological creatures inherited a portion of their Ancestor God’s authority. For example, the mythical nine-headed hydra’s Mist Domain could affect a swamp area of over four hundred square kilometers. Any outsider who entered the Mist Domain would not only lose their way but would also be continuously subjected to erosion by water elements, poisoning, or hypothermia. This meant that the Mist Domain was equivalent to an extension of the mythical nine-headed hydra’s will.

As far as the Ant-man Empress knew, the Sun God and Mother Earth were the positive and negative Incarnations of the Creation Giant Ape Taelonriel, respectively. The Sun God Frey, who commanded the Elemental Sea of Wind and the Elemental Sea of Fire, was also known as the King of Wind and Fire. As Frey’s direct blood-kin, the world’s first male elf, the Sun Elf was possibly the mythological creature with the highest standing today, revered by the Elves as the Son of Frey, the Avatar of the Sun Tree, and the sacred Emperor of the Elven Empire.

His Highness Randall, having seized the standing of the Sun Elf, naturally also controlled the origin of the powers of wind and fire. However, the Ant-man Empress could not understand how, with the Moon’s sacred object already taken away by the Elves, His Highness Randall could still use this almost miraculous power, as if he were a Sun Elf within the domain of the Sun Tree.

Could it be that his self-proclaimed title of “Mind’s Dominator” was actually a front for a hidden Ancient God?

The Ant-man Empress was truly frightened, but as an almost immortal ancient being, She instantly smoothed over Her emotional fluctuations and began to think of a way to resolve the crisis.

Two stiffened eight-legged insects flew past just above the Ant-man Empress’s head, completely unimpeded by Her psionic shields. She had no way to analyze His Highness Randall’s storm domain at present and could only compress Her psionic force field as much as possible, constructing layer upon layer of tight psionic shields to protect Herself.

At that moment, an indigo spear of void wind element shot forth like a bolt of lightning the thickness of a bowl, striking the Ant-man Empress directly. After piercing through three layers of psionic shields, the spear’s penetration slowed, as if it were solidifying in thick resin. It did not explode with wind element energy but merely diffused bit by bit, before finally being squeezed out by the dense psionic force field. It formed a conical turbulence of wind element at the Ant-man Empress’s side, which tore apart a soldier ant that happened to be “passing by.”

“Your Majesty, you truly are a terrible Supreme Commander. If the War Ant King Taorminos were in command, at least half of the Ant-men here would have been able to take shelter in the temple.” Victor’s soft whisper came from within the rapidly spinning storm, one moment to the Ant-man Empress’s left, the next behind Her.

Faced with Randall’s attack and provocation, the Ant-man Empress paid him no heed, merely tightening Her grip on the giant scythe, Death’s Twin Wings.

The destruction of tens of thousands of Her Ant-man retainers was a significant blow to the ant nest, but the Ant-man Empress cared little for these losses. She was even willing to sacrifice Her four-armed Ant-man vessel. But the most crucial divine crystal was still in His Highness Randall’s hands, and that was something She had to retrieve.

Now, She held no more expectations for His Highness Randall and had given up on the idea of reaching a consensus with him. There was no other way to get the divine crystal back except by killing this great enemy before Her.

However, His Highness Randall seemed to have become one with the tornado. He danced with the wind, widening the distance between them, and condensed spears of void wind element for long-range strikes. Even though the will to kill of Death’s Twin Wings had locked onto his soul, the Ant-man Empress could not find an opportunity for a fatal blow.

The blizzard obscured the Ant-man Empress’s vision, and the dense Elemental Domain of wind suppressed Her psionic Perception. Two more indigo spears of void wind element shot forth, accompanied by Victor’s voice: “Sylvia once mocked herself, saying that if she faced east, she could not go west, and if she looked south, she would neglect the north… This illustrates the natural limitations of all life beneath the Creator. Neither the Gods of the Void nor you are exceptions… You only cared for yourself and forgot the safety of your Ant-man retainers…”

So he can fly. No wonder he wasn’t afraid of being surrounded by my army of Ant-men… Since he can fly, why didn’t he just fly away? Could it be that he has a reason he must kill me?

The Ant-man Empress mused silently as She resisted the attacks of the void wind element.

“A maxim is passed down among the Knight-Nobles of the human kingdoms: ‘To wear the crown, one must first bear its weight’… Extraordinary Knights always bear the responsibility of being a Family Guardian, winning the Favor of the Force of Destiny and thus ascending to a higher level of life… In times of crisis, heroes emerge in succession, like the Pale Knight of the Alchemical Empire. If he had not shouldered the courage of his people’s hope, how could he have slain a high-ranking demon lord with the body of a mortal?”

“The path of a hero is paved by the Force of Destiny, formed from the convergence of the collective consciousness of their people. When that force gathers upon them, they gain authority… If they abandon their responsibilities as a hero, a leader, a true king, a sovereign, and only enjoy the privileges, they are bound to be spurned by the Force of Destiny…”

“This is a mystery of destiny that even a Gold Knight can glimpse. Your Majesty, as the sovereign of the ant swarms, why do you turn a blind eye to it?”

The Ant-man Empress abruptly raised Her head, Her voice sharp as she retorted, “The useless fallacies of the School of Divination! The ant swarms are another form of alchemical creature, merely my tools. Must I be responsible for my tools? It doesn’t matter if this batch of Ant-men dies out. Once I’ve killed you, I can quickly replenish the number of combat units!”

Crack! Three spears of void wind element struck the Ant-man Empress’s psionic shield almost simultaneously, staining its surface blue. Victor’s voice rang out amidst the rumbling thunder:

“Do you truly believe the Ant-men are merely tools? Then why did the War Ant King resist your will? In the Gloomy Forest of Gambis, I saw a monster that was half-goat, half-ape. I am certain they are the descendants of the alchemical creature, the Savi Warrior. This proves that the Prime Material Plane accepts alchemical units as part of the Law of Life. The Savi Warriors, having been transformed by the laws of the plane, have already broken free from the shackles of the Alchemy Tower…”

“Within the world, there are no heretics! The Ant-man race, especially the Gros Swarm, are closer to natural life. The sea of consciousness formed by the convergence of these Ant-men has become your burden. You should have complied with the world’s will, yet you wish to flee in terror… Is it not the Gods of the Void who have clouded your mind, leading you step by step into this desperate situation?”

“The Prime Material Plane is preparing to accept the Ant-man race, and you have become a stumbling block for the world’s will… Your fate is already sealed. I shall carry out the judgment of the Force of Destiny upon you! The power I now possess is my reward from the world’s will…”

The Ant-man Empress redirected the void wind element that Her psionic shields had compressed, stating flatly, “So it was the charm spell of the High Dark Elves. No wonder I neglected the change in the weather earlier… Your tricks of verbal inducement will not succeed again. If you want to kill me, you’ll have to rely on your own strength… But I must remind Your Highness, I did not smash the platform’s stone slabs to hide in the temple. If I had done so, I believe Your Highness would absolutely not dare to pursue me inside… I remain here because I want to kill you, just as you want to kill me. But I doubt you can do it. After all, you would only be killing one of my vessels. If I kill you, you will have truly perished… Why don’t we make a wager? Let’s see if you run out of vigor first, or if I run out of psionic energy first.”

Victor moved freely within the storm, while the Ant-man Empress could only take hits without being able to strike back. Victor also couldn’t break through the Ant-man Empress’s “tortoise shell.” In reality, neither side had a means to win. The final outcome could only be a contest of attrition.

The Ant-man Empress was able to grasp her opponent’s weakness. The storm tornado His Highness Randall had summoned surpassed Tier 9 spells, displaying an authority akin to the King of Wind, but his expenditure of vigor was equally immense. In a simple contest of attrition, His Highness Randall could not possibly win. Although he could escape with the wind, he had not, after all, sprouted wings; he couldn’t truly fly. And even winged Dragons tired of flying, to say nothing of His Highness Randall’s wind-gliding?

The more vigor Victor expended now, the sooner he would fall from the sky, making him easier to hunt down.

Holding Death’s Twin Wings, the Ant-man Empress stood firmly in the midst of the storm. Neither the spears of void wind element nor the turbulent wind currents could shake Her multiple defensive force fields. She remained silent, no longer wasting her breath, resolved to hold her ground.

Seeing this, Victor couldn’t help but feel a headache coming on. Just as the Ant-man Empress judged, his situation was indeed not very good.

Back then, in this very same spot, he had relied on the domain enhancement of Freya’s Tear to go all out and grievously wound the Pale Sovereign, who had integrated with the Wizard King’s Soul Mask.

Generally speaking, without the domain enhancement of the Moon’s sacred object, not even a Sun Elf could display extraordinary power surpassing Tier 9. But in principle, something that happened not long ago was permitted by the world’s laws; what the world’s laws permit can happen again.

To see oneself as a small world and create a resonance with the Law of the greater world outside was precisely the authority of the Mind’s Dominator.

What a Sun Elf needed the domain of the Sun Tree to achieve, Victor, as the Mind’s Dominator, could achieve himself without relying on external objects!

He had meticulously recorded all the physical and mental changes triggered by the Moon’s sacred object at that time, including subtle changes in his Bloodline, mind, and communication with the Elemental Sea of Wind. But for Victor to perfectly recreate his state from that time was extremely difficult, almost impossible. It wasn’t until he delved deep into the Dark Elf priestess’s charm spell and learned to use suggestion on himself that the ability of the Mind’s Dominator approached perfection, leading to the creation of a brand-new secret art—the Scales of the Mind.

The appearance of the Scales of the Mind marked Victor’s Mind’s Dominator reaching an unprecedented height. Even so, he had spent over forty days preparing, adjusting his body and mind to simulate the domain enhancement effect of the Moon’s sacred object. Moreover, he had only managed to elevate his own power level; he was unable to manifest the hand of the storm giant. Otherwise, he could have simply crushed the Ant-man Empress’s vessel to death, and he wouldn’t be in such a difficult position now.

Summoning a supernatural wind disaster was the limit of what Victor could achieve, and he was aided by the environment of the Asoerta Mountains. The tornado was immense and powerful, but its force was dispersed over a surprisingly large area. It was certainly effective against cannon fodder, but it had little effect on a monster of the Ant-man Empress’s level.

Victor hadn’t actually planned to use his “ultimate move” right from the start. His original plan was to first seal the Ant-man Empress, then use Wind Walk and the Body of Gossamer to fly over the Asoerta Mountains, leaving tens of thousands of Ant-man soldiers to eat his dust.

Unfortunately, Victor had no choice.

Sealing the Ant-man Empress required two conditions to be met. First, Victor had to slay the vessel the Ant-man Empress had descended into. This would cause the Ant-man Empress’s main consciousness to retreat back to Spirit-Devouring Island. Then, Victor had to immediately destroy the divine crystal, Angelina’s Sorrow. The Ant-man Empress wouldn’t have time to extend her consciousness again and would thus be sealed on Spirit-Devouring Island, unable to influence the ant swarms on the Prime Material Plane, which was equivalent to her demise.

Victor could also destroy the divine crystal first, cutting off the Ant-man Empress’s an escape route. It’s just that the Ant-man Empress would be able to continue controlling the ant swarms until her descended vessel died. Although the final outcome for the Ant-man Empress would be the same, the human kingdoms would inevitably suffer Her crazed retaliation, perhaps for years, perhaps for decades, or even for centuries.

That was simply the worst possible outcome, rendering all of Victor’s previous efforts meaningless. Therefore, he had no choice but to do everything in his power to accomplish the feat of sealing the Ant-man Empress.

Victor hadn’t expected the Ant-man Empress to possess an ancient artifact like Death’s Twin Wings. Now, with the Will of Slaughter from Death’s Twin Wings locked onto Victor’s soul, the Ant-man Empress’s vessel had the ability to slay him.

Victor was not confident that he could quickly kill the Ant-man Empress, who was wielding Death’s Twin Wings, while the Ant-man legion watched with predatory eyes. On the contrary, it seemed much easier for the Ant-man Empress, with the support of tens of thousands of her retainers, to kill His Highness Randall.

He had to change his plan. Without a moment’s hesitation, he activated Miller’s divine art ring, using its last Sacred Protection to maintain his soul structure. He then unleashed the Scales of the Mind, mobilizing the power of the Elemental Sea of Wind to summon a terrifying tornadic cataclysm, sweeping through the Ant-man legion at the Assyrian Temple, first to eliminate the Ant-man Empress’s claws, then to finish off Her vessel.

In just a few dozen seconds, the tornado, which carried psychic damage, had annihilated tens of thousands of Ant-man soldiers. The blizzard sealed off the temple both inside and out, and the Ant-men hiding in the main nest did not dare to emerge. Victor and the Ant-man Empress were now in a one-on-one situation. However, Victor couldn’t last much longer. In two or three minutes at most, his vigor would be depleted. Forget killing the four-armed Ant-man; he probably wouldn’t even have the strength to walk.

The good news was that the wind disaster had already formed and the air currents were moving on their own inertia. Even if Victor stopped manipulating the wind elements now, the tornado would persist for some time.

The bad news was that the Ant-man Empress’s psionic shields were unexpectedly durable.

A year ago, during the battle at the temple, the Wind Whisperer elf from Silverhawk City had manifested a spear of void wind element that had inflicted more damage on the Black Blood Sovereign than anyone else. The spears of void wind element that Victor was now manifesting were even more formidable, their power far exceeding the peak level of the Wind Whisperer elf, yet they just couldn’t break through the Ant-man Empress’s psionic defensive force field.

Victor’s vigor was continuously decreasing, while the Ant-man Empress could seize the psionic energy of the high-ranking guard ants to replenish Her own expenditure.

This was precisely the Ant-man Empress’s home ground advantage. Victor could catch an opponent off guard with a surprise attack, but in a head-on confrontation, his chances of victory were actually slim.

Now that the spears of void wind element were ineffective against the Ant-man Empress, Victor had only one means left to defeat his enemy: Void Walk.

With Void Walk, Victor would completely become a void wind element, grasping the spatial authority of the Elemental Sea of Wind. In theory, no object could withstand spatial cutting, but Sylvia had shown Victor through her actions that if a target resisted a Void Walk, he would be doomed.

Victor decided to take a risk, but only if the Ant-man Empress first dismantled Her “tortoise shell.”

“When I said you were spurned by the Force of Destiny, I was not bluffing… You probably can’t imagine who I saw in Maximo’s memory crystal?”

“…Spirit Knight Kognoris, your Council President…”

Victor’s ethereal voice drifted on the wind. The Ant-man Empress suddenly shrieked, “That’s absolutely impossible! Kognoris would have surely perished after piloting the Divine Colossi!”

“…You’re right.” Victor chuckled softly. “The ‘human’ part of Lord Kognoris did indeed perish… The one I spoke with was actually an Incarnation of the world’s will. From a single point in eternity, She peered into all the chaotic futures, but that did not include me, an outsider… To Kognoris, I am an anomaly outside of destiny. She was curious about my choice, so She had Maximo erase the contents of the memory crystal, leaving only Her name…”

“Do you know why Maximo admitted he had wronged Angelina, yet did not regret his choice?”

“…It was Lord Kognoris who saw through your true identity. Even if you yourself didn’t realize it, the real Angelina was already dead. You have been reduced to a pawn of the Gods of the Void…”

This sentence almost shattered the Ant-man Empress’s mental defenses. The psionic shields around Her body distorted for a moment, but Victor did not strike, because he only had one chance. It had to be foolproof!

“…And what choice could I have? Bearing the favor of destiny for my family, my kingdom, and the human kingdoms, I have climbed step by step to the pinnacle. Could I possibly betray myself and collude with beings from another world?! I have only one answer… Absolutely not!”

Within the thick, black storm, flashes of lightning surged like a tide, and thunder boomed, responding to the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s oath.

“…I made my choice. Lord Kognoris’s will retreated, and the method to seal you appeared in my mind… Yes, I cannot destroy Spirit-Devouring Island, which does not exist in the Prime Material Plane, but don’t you forget, just as Sylvia can communicate with the Elemental Sea, so can I… A Spirit Knight can use the most direct and brutal means to destroy a divine crystal, but I don’t need to go to such trouble… I just need to follow the method Lord Kognoris taught me and unlock the rune paths of the divine crystal…”

Amidst the endless storm, Victor’s form materialized. His gaze was serene as he looked levelly at the Ant-man Empress. In his left hand, he held Angelina’s Sorrow, and a point of ethereal blue light was invading the interior of the divine crystal, looking extraordinarily piercing.

The four-armed Ant-man controlled by the Ant-man Empress simultaneously closed its eyes. The twelve pairs of magic tattoos coiling around its body lit up with a brilliant white light, and the curved, sinister scythe swung forward. At this moment, She abandoned Her psionic defenses, transferring all of Her power into Death’s Twin Wings, determined to slay His Highness Randall on the spot before he could destroy the divine crystal!

“I kill you.”

Reflected in Victor’s eyes was a demon over six meters tall, its body bent like a humanoid mantis, brandishing a pair of blood-red scythe blades, cleaving toward his chest.

The phantom of the demon lord originated from the depths of his mind. Victor could not evade it, and for an instant, his body and mind froze.

Death’s Twin Wings, imbued with the entirety of the four-armed Ant-man’s psionic power, had a surprisingly large attack range. The blood-red bone blade carved a perfect arc, slicing even the endless tornado in two with its blood-like crimson light.

The Will of Slaughter, directly attacking the opponent’s soul; the Power of Annihilation, first shattering laws, then piercing any form of defense. With these two powers, the Soul-Reapers of old had once slain even the Gods of the Void. Today, they were being used on His Highness Randall.

From the subtle vibrations transmitted through the scythe’s long handle, the Ant-man Empress was certain that this strike from Death’s Twin Wings had cut through His Highness Randall’s armor, skin, muscle, bone, and internal organs, slicing him in two at the chest.

But a beam of pure blue light flashed through the storm, passing through the body of the four-armed Ant-man in an instant.

With a crisp crack, the Death’s Twin Wings scythe shattered into pieces in the four-armed Ant-man’s hands. Victor, clad in a suit of close-fitting soft armor, appeared behind it, watching as the four-armed Ant-man’s body sliced cleanly in half at the waist and was promptly swept into the air by the howling gale.

Victor took a deep breath, then immediately raised Angelina’s Sorrow and, following the correct path, channeled the void wind element into the divine crystal. As the ancient Elemental Rune Crystal turned completely blue and fine cracks spread from within, the golden light in Victor’s eyes gradually dimmed.

He flicked his fingers, letting the crystal dust dissipate with the wind. A happy smile finally curled the corners of his mouth as he murmured to himself, “Now, the coordinates connecting Spirit-Devouring Island to the Prime Plane are gone… Your Majesty, we shall never meet again!”

The berserk wind still roared, but as the strong currents blew past the Raging Wind Sword Saint, they gently embraced his body. Victor could not suppress the joy welling up from deep within his heart and finally burst into loud laughter.

He had defeated the most powerful Nemesis he had faced since birth and had every reason to laugh with abandon. It was just that the slight chill on his chest was a bit of a mood killer. Victor looked down and saw a neat, circular crack on the chest of his Thorium inner armor, which had been mixed with a small amount of Saron Demon Iron.

Victor had commissioned his Alchemical auxiliary soldiers to forge this close-fitting inner armor. He wore it every day, constantly infusing it with void wind element in the hope of leaving his own will’s imprint upon it. Now, this inner armor had withstood the test of Void Walk, saving Victor from the embarrassment of being naked, but it had been damaged by the Power of Annihilation from Death’s Twin Wings, leaving a broken scar, hanging forlornly on its master’s body.

Victor couldn’t help but shift his gaze to the stone slabs not far away. The two worn bone-blade scythes were embedded there, stubbornly enduring the storm’s baptism, not swept away by the air currents like the corpse of the four-armed Ant-man.

Death’s Twin Wings indeed had a living quality. At the last moment, when their combined giant scythe form was severed by Victor’s Void Walk, they seemed to consciously mobilize their remaining psionic energy to drive themselves into the stone slabs, resisting the pull of the storm.

Perhaps they were unwilling to fall into oblivion and wanted a new master; or perhaps, due to the effect of Spirit Siphon, the last shred of self-awareness of the four-armed Ant-man before its death instinctively wanted to cling to the ground to prevent itself from being swept away by the gale.

Victor walked over, plucked the Spirit-Snatcher and the Blood-Drinker from the stone slabs, and said to himself with a smile, “Oh, well. I’ll find you another master.”

After stowing away the two ancient artifacts, Victor walked toward the shattered stone throne. He pushed aside the toppled stones and pulled out the elemental rune longsword that was deeply embedded in the stone slab floor. Another artifact pinned by the hilt—the Heart of the Fey Queen—also rolled into his hand.

After an expedition that lasted two years and ten months, Victor’s greatest gain was undoubtedly the Scales of the Mind, which marked the Mind’s Dominator’s ascension to the highest level. The two ancient artifacts, plus an elemental rune longsword, could only be considered extra war trophies. If ranked by value, the elemental rune longsword was even more valuable than the ancient artifacts. That would depend on whether the great scholars of the human kingdoms could reverse-engineer the corresponding technology.

In addition, the wind disaster Victor had summoned had killed at least a hundred low-ranking guard ants. Their Soul Fires were absorbed by Alchemy Tower No. 7, which was another small gain.

As for the ancient knowledge and imperial secrets held by the Ant-man Empress, Victor was indeed envious, but he could only sigh in resignation.

However, the core members of his family, whom Victor had carefully nurtured, were all still alive and well. Although the sacrificed alchemical creatures were worth over a million Gold Sols, and even the Red Dragonkin Handmaiden Laila had died in battle, overall, it was a gratifying result.

Collecting his complex emotions, Victor prepared to leave the temple and hunt down the War Ant King Taorminos. With the Ant-man Empress, an old monster who had lived for over twenty thousand years, imprisoned on Spirit-Devouring Island, and with the death of the War Ant King, the Ant-man race would lose its supreme commander. A split would be inevitable, and the threat to the Centaur Hills would naturally be lifted.

Victor walked to the edge of the top platform and suddenly sensed something strange. The terrifying tornado was still raging, but the interior of the Asoerta Temple was dead silent, not a single sound, like a quiet tomb.

He furrowed his long, straight eyebrows and caught a scent in the air that was both light and profound, and very pleasant. This wondrous aroma should not have appeared in the storm, and Victor realized it was not a real smell but a mental illusion. Yet, he couldn’t help but gaze toward the source of the scent.

Victor’s vision pierced through the tornado, through the snowless mountain ridge, and then he “saw” a cavernous lair dug out by the Ant-men.

In the underground lair, a thick darkness was converging like a tide, shrinking into a giant insect egg. Curled inside the egg was a creature of indescribable beauty. Her lower half was that of a massive spider, its surface covered in profound purple patterns; Her upper half was that of a female elf, with flawless skin, long and pointed ears, and vibrant, smooth purple hair. Her face was exquisitely beautiful, and her body’s lines were graceful and elegant. Paired with the spider’s body, it did not seem strange at all, but instead possessed a heart-stopping charm.

Victor “saw” Her curved eyelashes tremble slightly, as if She were about to awaken from Her deep slumber in the next second.

An invisible thread connected Victor to the beautiful half-spider, half-elf creature. The tide of darkness spread along this thread toward Victor’s mind. It was as if Victor had been struck by a Nightmare; he knew something was wrong, yet he still looked forward to Her opening Her eyes and meeting his gaze.

Victor had already lost control of his body, as if an immensely powerful instinct was forcing him to submit. X-3 was operating frantically, searching for any way to escape this predicament. Countless images flashed rapidly through his mind, then froze on Sylvia’s beautiful face, which seemed to be a mix of anger and joy.

Sylvia’s beauty was unparalleled. As Victor visualized his Lover’s face and voice, he seemed to hear a snap, and the invisible spider silk broke. He instantly regained control of his body, his face pale and bloodless. But he also felt extremely fortunate, murmuring with lingering fear, “It wasn’t the Gods of the Void after all, it’s… it’s the Spider Lady?! Sylvia, my love, if I make it back alive, I’ll be sure to dote on you properly…”

With that, Victor unhesitatingly leaped into the storm. Activating his Body of Gossamer and the Wings of the Wind Sprite, he commanded a turbulent current of wind to envelop him and carry him away into the distance.

The powerful and imperious Mind’s Dominator was now fleeing in panic without a single glance back.

Chapter 889: Spider Lady

A torrent of wind elements enveloped Victor, carrying him swiftly through the air. The craggy, grotesque landscape of the Asoerta Mountains receded rapidly behind him. Victor stretched his body as much as possible to increase the surface area for the torrent to lift, then dove headfirst into the hazy clouds enshrouding the high peaks. He bored a tunnel through them, a void that was immediately filled again by the mists. The disturbed vapors chased after him, tracing a distinct arc through the sky.

Almost everyone dreams of flying freely in their childhood, and Victor had turned that youthful dream into a reality.

This wasn’t his first time flying. He had attempted it back in the Randell Fief, but the results had been less than satisfactory. It wasn’t until the last battle at the temple, when the sacred object of the Moon Goddess permanently increased his Spirit attribute cap by two points, that his control over the wind elements saw considerable improvement. With the help of the Wings of the Wind Sprite and Body of Gossamer, two of his talent-based combat techniques, flight became possible.

During the Randall expedition team’s rescue of Beldina, Victor had found some spare time to practice his flying skills, using the steep drops of the Asoerta Mountains. In the end, he came to a conclusion: soaring freely through the sky was just a dream, impossible to truly achieve.

When Victor leaped from a cliff, he could fly for a short period. But it was less flying and more high-speed gliding with the help of air currents. His formidable muscle strength and outstanding physical stamina were completely useless; he relied purely on spiritual power to manipulate airflows for mid-air turns. As such, when Victor glided, he was not one with his body and mind, nor could he summon the fire of his mind. He was clumsy, to say the least. Adjusting speed, making circles, changing altitude—all were out of the question. He could only glide fast, never slow, the shallower the angle the better, and his altitude would only ever decrease.

The most fatal part was that simultaneously maintaining the high-intensity Wings of the Wind Sprite, Wind Walk, and Body of Gossamer drained his vigor at an alarming rate. In a relatively successful glide test, Victor had traveled over seventy kilometers in six minutes at a speed of 230 meters per second, after which he began a performance of high-altitude freefall.

Fortunately, Victor had Void Walk as a life-saving skill. Otherwise, he might have become the first Sanctuary-rank expert in human history to die from jumping off a cliff.

Had he prepared a parachute or a wingsuit beforehand, Victor’s gliding experience might have been better. Unfortunately, the circumstances at the time did not allow for such preparations. Not only did he lack any flying equipment, but he had also just used his most critical life-saving skill—Void Walk.

Having Void Walk on cooldown was one thing, but he had also used up the last Sacred Protection on his divine art ring. The Sacred Protection granted by old man Miller had surpassed the level of a fifth-tier divine art; not only could it protect Victor’s soul structure and rapidly replenish his vigor, but it could also reset Void Walk.

Victor had decisively jumped off the cliff, employing the extreme method of wind-element gliding to escape the Asoerta Temple. There were no safety guarantees, but he still considered his choice to be extremely wise.

By choosing to fly away, he had a sliver of a chance to live. If he had stayed, death was certain!

Or perhaps, he would have fallen into a state worse than death.

The torrent of wind elements carried Victor through the clouds and over a perilous mountain pass. A vista of dark green forests and reddish-brown rock faces entered his vision. At the junction of the forest and the rock belt, a bright spot appeared, overlapping with the waterfall and deep pool from his memory.

Victor did his utmost to adjust the impact angle of the wind torrent, gliding rapidly towards the deep pool. He flew for nearly another ten kilometers, practically skimming the sheer cliffs of the Asoerta Mountains, until he finally arrived diagonally above the waterfall, ready to land.

The torrent of wind elements lost its restraint and dispersed into a squall, no longer able to support Victor’s body. Even though he kept Body of Gossamer active, he still plummeted over one hundred meters. The roar of the waterfall crashing into the pool was deafening as the dark green surface of the lake rapidly expanded in his vision. Just before hitting the water, Victor nimbly somersaulted in mid-air and, with his toes pointed down, plunged straight into the deep pool. Gurgle. He sent up a splash of moderate size.

Victor’s entry into the water was flawless, one might even say perfect. A herd of white-tailed elk drinking by the pool’s edge, however, had no appreciation for it. They scattered in fright, only stopping to twitch their ears curiously and look back when they heard no further commotion.

After a long while, Victor’s head broke the surface of the water, and he walked ashore step by step. He was barefoot and drenched from head to toe. His hair and eyes had reverted to their ordinary black color. In his left hand, he carried the Alchemist’s runic sword, and in his right, he clutched the two divine artifact bone blades. He looked utterly wretched.

Once on shore, he nimbly darted into the nearby woods, found an ancient tree with gnarled branches, and scrambled up into its boughs with his hands and feet. He then used his bare hands to dig away a large, mud-sealed piece of bark, retrieving his armor, clothes, and a pack from the hollowed-out tree trunk.

Over three months ago, Victor had chosen this deep pool as an emergency landing spot and had hidden some supplies nearby in advance. In fact, there was also a refined iron longspear hidden at the bottom of the pool, but now that he had the elemental runic longsword, the spear was no longer needed.

Sitting on a branch, he first spat out the Heart of the Fey Queen he had been holding in his mouth. He opened his pack, took out a small bag of medicinal powder, and poured it into his mouth, swallowing it whole with his saliva. He gasped for a couple of seconds, then unfastened his damaged and misshapen inner armor, revealing a long wound on his chest.

The impact with the water from high above had caused the broken edge of his inner armor to cut his pectoral muscle, drawing a small amount of blood. But while he was still underwater, the wound had already begun to heal and was no longer a hindrance to his movements. It was just that his vigor was nearly depleted, forcing the High Elf bloodline in his Twin Talent Tree into a state of dormancy. The vast majority of his Transcendent combat skills were temporarily unusable.

Victor removed the damaged inner armor and changed into a spare set of clothes and armor. After a brief rest, he began to check his condition and his equipment.

At this moment, he felt that his spiritual power was extremely weak. He could only maintain Soul of Water Mist and Wind Walk and was unable to manifest the void wind element. Almost all of his active talent-based combat skills were unresponsive. Fortunately, X-3 was still operational and could use the Overlimit combat techniques that had long since been replaced by Heart of Flame. In other words, Victor’s current extraordinary power had plummeted to the level of an initial-rank Silver, about the same as his level ten years ago.

However, the potential of his human bloodline showed its advantage at times like these. The Vital Tenacity Talent granted him super strength, super stamina, minor elemental resistance, and Self-Heal. Coupled with X-3’s Overlimit state and a deep fire of the mind, as well as the all-important knowledge jigsaw puzzle, his overall strength was still at the Gold-rank level or higher.

As for his equipment, Victor had changed into a set of ordinary composite leather armor, a color-changing cloak, a Thorium warbow, two quivers of fine feathered arrows, a longsword and a short sword, plus ten throwing knives. This was merely the standard-issue equipment for a third-level Source-blood militia, nothing special. The extraordinary equipment Victor had forged for himself, including “Soul Rend,” “Umbra,” and the Saron Demon Iron inner armor, was either lost or destroyed, with not a single piece remaining. But what he regretted most was the divine art ring gifted to him by Father Miller. All four Sacred Protections had been used up, and the divine arts ring itself was destroyed by Void Walk.

Victor sighed, took a small pouch from his pack, and placed Sylvia’s Manticore Bone bead, Miller’s Purple Gold Coin amulet, and the “Heart of the Fey Queen” inside. He then hung the pouch around his neck, tucking it inside his leather armor, close to his heart.

He picked up “Death’s Twin Wings,” which resembled a pair of worn-out bone blades, and swung them twice, but he did not sense any extraordinary properties from the ancient divine artifacts. According to the Ant-man Empress, ancient divine artifacts of a negative nature could only be wielded by demonkind and primordial beings. As a half-elf, Victor should have been able to use them, yet they showed no special reaction.

Perhaps it was because “Death’s Twin Wings” had been severely damaged by the impact of Void Walk and could no longer channel their extraordinary power to a new master. But that was a problem he could study later. Victor casually tucked the two bone-bladed sickles into his belt, picked up the elemental runic longsword, and gently stroked the gleaming blade with his fingers.

He was not an Extraordinary Knight and could not fully unleash this longsword’s true power. But the sword was forged from Saron Demon Iron and other precious metals, and its ability to accommodate elements was identical to that of the “Soul Rend” spear. Fortunately, the elemental runic longsword also contained Saron Demon Iron. As Victor glided, it had absorbed wind elements, creating an elemental effect that greatly reduced its weight. Otherwise, Victor would have had to discard it.

In Victor’s hands, the elemental runic longsword was no different from the “Soul Rend” spear. Holding the hilt gave him a little more confidence.

But this confidence was illusory, as good as nonexistent.

Victor recalled the monster he had “seen.” It probably wasn’t the true Spider Lady, but the Ant-man Empress’s perfect body. However, this form of the perfect body was likely not of the Ant-man Empress’s own volition. Otherwise, if She had used this body during their confrontation, Victor would have had almost no chance to turn the tables.

In other words, the perfect body with its half-elf, half-spider form had another origin and was certainly not a tool the Ant-man Empress could use at will.

Regardless, the perfect body, so similar to the Spider Lady, held a strange attraction for Victor, almost like a soulmate. He had managed to sever their spiritual connection only by drawing on his emotions for Sylvia. But the fact that he had lost control of his own body remained.

For a Mind’s Dominator to be unable to control his own body—what a terrifying thing!

The bloodline instinct of the Sun Elves was far more powerful than Victor had imagined. This wouldn’t normally be an issue, but when facing the half-elf, half-spider monster, it became Victor’s fatal flaw.

Completely transforming into a Sun Elf had once been a trump card for Victor. Now, if he were to abandon his human bloodline and choose to advance to a Sun Elf, who knew what kind of tragedy would unfold?

Not only that, but Victor didn’t even plan to continue using his Sun Elf bloodline talents. He worried it would reconnect him to the “Spider Lady,” thereby exposing his location.

With most of his elven bloodline talents temporarily sealed, Victor’s combat capabilities were greatly diminished. Worst of all, his effective perception radius had shrunk from twenty-two kilometers to about four.

For most Gold-rank monsters, a distance of four kilometers was not enough to create a tactical advantage in terms of space. Victor’s chances of striking first were reduced, while the risk of being ambushed was greatly increased.

Fortunately, Victor had just glided for over forty kilometers on the torrent of wind elements. Although the distance wasn’t vast, he had flown in a straight line over the impassable natural barriers of the Asoerta Mountains. For high-rank Ant-men to reach this deep pool, it would take them at least a day to cross the mountains. And that didn’t account for the time they would need to conduct a large-scale mountain search.

If he was lucky, the enemy might not find his trail for another three to five days. Victor estimated that if he lay low and recuperated, he could return to peak condition in two days. If he chose to travel, it would take five.

However, the waterfall pool was, after all, within the main nest’s sphere of influence. Victor was unsure of the current situation with the Ant-man Empress and the ant swarms, so he decided to leave this place as soon as possible.

Victor leaped down from the ancient tree, ran to the edge of the pool, filled a leather waterskin to the brim, and then quickly returned to the forest. He avoided leaving footprints on the forest floor, instead leaping onto the large trees and using the overlapping branches as springboards. He found his bearings to the southeast and leaped away without looking back.

Water sources usually attract life, and this waterfall pool was no exception. In fact, this place had once been a tomb complex for Assyrian Nobles. Although it had been abandoned for over one thousand years, covered by the rampant vegetation of the forest, Victor could still see vine-entangled, serpentine sculptures and spider emblems on the stone archways.

Snakes and spiders held special significance in Assyrian civilization. The Assyrians believed their ancestor was a Snake Spirit, symbolizing the spiritual Origin of the living, while the spider represented the spiritual Origin of the dead. The living and the dead held equally important status in Assyrian culture. Living Assyrian descendants favored serpentine ornaments. The souls of the dead Assyrians were generally invisible, which meant that the Spider Totem appeared only in Assyrian graveyards.

The spider was easily overlooked.

And Victor had also overlooked this important piece of information.

The ancient Elven Empire believed that snakes represented Abyss demons, while spiders were the death incarnation of the Moon Goddess Freya. Victor had once captured the Dark Elf priestess Sakhirtana and learned from her that the Spider Lady had her own name—Felisgilgen, which meant Spider Queen of the Dark Domain, and could also be translated as The Weaver of the Abyss.

This name set her apart from Freya, sounding more like the name of an ancient demon.

What exactly did the Elven Empire mean by “death incarnation”? Was it hinting that the Spider Lady was actually the demonization of the Moon Goddess Freya?

Information suggested that the King of the Spirit Realm was the first Ancient God to attack the Abyss Plane. He and his swarm army had defeated countless demons, but were ultimately corrupted by the will of the Abyss Plane, becoming a powerful demon sovereign and leading the Gros Insectoids to counter-invade the Prime Material Plane.

The Moon Goddess Freya not only defeated the King of the Spirit Realm but also seized his authority over a Law. Subsequently, Freya created an incarnation to lead her ancient elven and ancient dwarven retainers into the subterranean world, effectively taking the King of the Spirit Realm’s place.

He who gazes into the Abyss is gazed back upon by the Abyss; he who fights with dragons too long becomes a dragon himself.

With the lesson from a past failure like the King of the Spirit Realm, the Moon Goddess Freya turning into a demon sovereign was an acceptable possibility. The coincidence was that Freya’s incarnation, the Spider Lady, had managed to avoid the Twilight of the Gods.

If the Twilight Era was the age when the Ancient Gods’ consciousnesses dispersed, then the Spider Lady, Felisgilgen, might not necessarily have perished.

During the first invasion of the Abyss demons, the Elven Empire was the primary resistance. Just as they were suffering repeated defeats, the Demon Dragon of the Abyss clan and the demon prince Donar inexplicably betrayed their own, seemingly hinting that the Spider Lady was still active in the Abyss.

During the second demon invasion, the Great Chasm connecting to the Abyss Plane surprisingly appeared on the Arreat Plateau. The human Alchemical Empire became the main target of the demons, while the Elven Empire’s core city, Aylanta, remained relatively unscathed.

These signs could corroborate the previous guess… The Spider Lady was still alive at that time. She was secretly protecting the Elven Empire, letting humanity take the brunt of the losses in place of the Elves.

Over a decade ago, in Black Fortress Town, the gardener Will’s body was possessed by a Whisperer during a moment of spiritual collapse. From this, Victor had inferred that with the Mage Angelina turning into a spirit, the Gods of the Void had an opportunity to slip in. That was why the Great Alchemist Maximo had to seal the Ant-man Empress. But Victor’s deduction had overlooked the elven factor, a clear and major oversight.

In the final years of the Alchemical Empire, the Elves were the largest external investors in the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower. They not only provided the legacy blood of the King of the Spirit Realm but also contributed a sacred object of the Moon Goddess like “Freya’s Tear.”

The resources the Elves had invested far exceeded those of the Secret Order’s Alchemists. Had they toiled for over twenty thousand years just to harvest the Assyrian descendants as a new vassal race?

The extraordinary being that had tainted the Ant-man Empress might not be the Gods of the Void, but the Spider Lady!

Only an immortal like the Spider Lady could traverse the long river of time to make such arrangements. Even the Elven Empire was unaware of her specific plans, yet they were able to choose the perfect time to reap the fruit.

Helping the Elven Empire acquire the Assyrian descendants, gain control of the Gros Swarm, and acquire an incarnation that could walk freely on the Prime Material Plane—did this series of schemes befit the title of The Weaver of the Abyss?

If only it were that simple. But another clue pointed to an even more terrifying conclusion.

Over ten thousand years ago, the Nightingale Princess of the Elven Empire married an ancestor of the Wimbledon family, a Knight, which later led to the emergence of Sword Saint Draven Wimbledon. And the current Elven royal family are descendants of Draven. Sakhirtana had told Victor that the Elven Empress Regnant had sent the Elven Prince to the Asoerta Temple hoping her son would receive the opportunity to advance to a Sun Elf. This was because the Elven Prince had the bloodline of a Sun Elf and was a male Greater Elf.

If Victor hadn’t occupied the position of the Sun Elf, the Elven Prince might very well have become—a sacrificial offering for the rejuvenation of the Moon Goddess!

Victor had a premonition that the answer to the puzzle would soon be revealed, but he had no desire to know it.

Although Sun Elves were the spouses of the Moon Goddess, many female spiders have a habit of eating their male partners. Now, Victor had to run as far as he could. He could never use his Sun Elf bloodline talents again. The only power he could rely on was his alchemical creatures.

At the southern end of the Asoerta Mountains, on the border between the Goldwater River and the forest.

Two large rafts, made entirely of lashed-together logs, rested on the ground. Though called rafts, they had gunwales, simple cabins, oars, and sculls, making them more like two small boats. The cabins were filled with supplies. All that was needed was to get them into the water, and the Randall expedition team could ride the current downstream at any time.

All preparations were complete. They were only waiting for Victor, Lady Mewen, and Caligula to return, and then everyone could leave this godforsaken place.

Beldina couldn’t wait to go home. She missed the kitchen in Silver Moon Manor and, even more, wanted her good friends, especially Shirley, to see her now. Then Shirley would be astonished and start calling her “sister” Beldina again.

At the happy thought, Beldina couldn’t help but dance and giggle.

White Bread, lying at Bel’s feet, had no idea what his young master was excited about now. He lazily wagged his tail, indulging his young master’s mood. Suddenly, White Bread lifted his massive head, glanced back, and then flattened his ears, hiding behind Beldina.

The Dragonkin handmaidens, Dili and Fugerui, were walking over. They each carried an exaggeratedly shaped crescent axe blade and wore an animal hide cloak, their long, snow-white legs flashing into view from time to time. It seemed they wore nothing underneath their cloaks.

With Victor not around, the Dragonkin handmaidens’ attire was certainly not meant to entice anyone but was for the convenience of transforming.

The others also noticed the Dragonkin handmaidens’ odd behavior. Narsen was the first to run over, asking, “What’s happened?”

Narsen’s expression was very serious, a trace of unease in his eyes. He had been in a bad mood these past few days, always feeling like something terrible was about to happen.

Dili stopped and shouted, “Everyone, gather around! We’re charging the riverbank and launching the boats immediately!”

Charlotte, her hand on her sword hilt, said anxiously, “But, Victor isn’t back yet…”

The Dragonkin handmaiden Fugerui interjected, “The plan has changed. Dili and I will get you into the water first, then we’ll go and support the King.”

Father Dayne hurried over and asked with a frown, “Lady, what on earth is going on?”

“The King encountered an error while sealing the Ant-man Empress and met a terribly powerful enemy. He needs our support. We must execute the second plan now… You will launch from here, sail the boats to the river bend ahead, and moor near the cliffs to wait for the King,” Dili replied.

“I want to help…” Narsen said heavily.

“Not needed!” Fugerui glanced at him and shook her head. “You must obey the King’s command. Stay near the north shore of the river bend and be ready to receive him. That will be help enough.” Then, the Dragonkin handmaiden looked at Imosen the Wizard and added, “Your Excellency Imosen can be of help… Use your Wisdom Guidance Wizardry to remotely control the Aberrant Dire Bears and assist us in intercepting the King’s enemy. Father Dayne and Miss Bel can use divine arts and magic to enhance His Excellency Imosen’s abilities. So, you must move quickly. The sooner you reach the river bend, the sooner you can help the King.”

Under everyone’s gaze, Imosen nervously wrung his hands and said, feeling a bit awkward, “I will risk my life to help the Master escape danger. But… but I learned from the Fishmen captives that there is a particularly powerful aquatic monster in the river bend ahead. Even Koukou doesn’t dare approach it. The Fishmen call it ‘Ronironi.’ It should be a Deeply Savaged Lizard-beast… We could have originally bypassed its territory, but now, the boats have to moor on the north side of the bend… I was hoping one of the Dragon Ladies could stay with us to intimidate ‘Ronironi’…”

Koukou was the great lord of the nearby Fishmen, ruling over more than one hundred thousand riverbank Fishmen. Although most Fishmen dared not enter deep water, that did not include a great lord like Koukou.

An aquatic monster that even Koukou feared—one could imagine how ferocious “Ronironi” was.

Victor had scouted the nearby riverbanks with the Dragonkin handmaidens beforehand, but they knew nothing about this region’s monsters. Imosen the Wizard, by interrogating Fishmen captives, had actually gathered some important intelligence.

With a cold face, Dili flatly refused Imosen’s request. “Neither Fugerui nor I can possibly stay! Figure out how to deal with the Savage Lizard-beast yourselves! Otherwise, what use does the King have for you useless lot?!”

Imosen, both ashamed and annoyed, lowered his head in disgrace. If he had more time, he wouldn’t fear some Savage Lizard-beast, but the situation was urgent, and he didn’t have the time to cultivate a powerful aquatic Aberrant Beast.

Beldina jumped down from the prow of the boat and shouted encouragingly, “Papa, don’t worry! Didn’t you catch a lot of giant otters? I’ll help you nurture them, and then we’ll make them catch ‘Ronironi’ to be our pet.”

Imosen forced a smile and said, “As long as we don’t provoke ‘Ronironi,’ we’ll be fine…”

Fugerui suddenly asked, “Miss Bel, you’ve been to Spirit-Devouring Island in the Realm of All Spirits. Do you remember anything special about it?”

Beldina tilted her head and thought for a moment, then pouted and said in confusion, “It didn’t seem very special, just a bunch of bare white rocks… Oh, right! When I flew up high and looked down, Spirit-Devouring Island was shaped like a big, eight-legged spider.”

Chapter 890: Three-Way Entanglement

Beldina stood at the prow, raised that particularly beautiful white-wood staff, pointed at the riverbank ahead, and shouted with heroic bravado, “Charge!”

Actually, her command was unnecessary; the Randall expedition team was already charging. The two Dragonkin raiders and the three remaining Alchemical Dragon-Lizards rushed at the forefront. The others, including My Lady Charlotte and the sword-wielding handmaidens, worked together to lift the log rafts and follow close behind. Only the three spellcasters were given special treatment, sitting securely on the rafts, being carried forward in a sprint by their allies without lifting a finger.

The two log rafts were massive, each over ten meters long and four meters wide. Including the supplies packed into their holds, each vessel weighed over fifteen tons. Fortunately, the third-level Source-Blood Militia were all sturdy and astonishingly strong. They supported the bottoms of the rafts with large wooden frames, propped them up with their broad shoulders, and with the help of the Knights, Ferocious warriors, and sword-wielding handmaidens, they lifted the heavy rafts. Their charge towards the river was faster than a galloping horse, carrying an unstoppable, powerful momentum.

The spot chosen to launch the rafts was a carefully selected gravel beach, free of silt and with few shrimps, crabs, or shells. Consequently, there were relatively few Fishmen—only a few hundred. They had been basking in the sun on the rocks when they suddenly saw a menacing group of monsters charging at them. They shrieked in terror and scrambled into the water.

Two enormous crescent axe blades flew through the air, their whistling shriek splitting the wind, and pinned two straggling Fishmen to the rocks. Dili and Fugerui let out soul-stirring low roars. Void elements enveloped their graceful and enchanting bodies, disintegrating their beast-hide cloaks. When the four-colored light dissipated, two beautiful, elegant, and majestic Dragonkin appeared before everyone. They dropped to all fours and sprinted forward, plucked their respective crescent axe blades from the rocks, and plunged headfirst into the river.

The riverbank Fishmen scattered in every direction. The Randall expedition team, carrying the log rafts, followed the Dragonkin raiders and charged smoothly into the Goldwater River, kicking up two great plumes of white spray.

However, the simple-minded Fishmen had their own ways of survival. Once they escaped into the shallows of the Goldwater River, they would call their kin, becoming exceptionally ferocious and refusing to rest until the invaders were driven from their territory.

No one knew just how many of the fish-headed monsters lurked beneath the surface, but everyone understood that the real danger was underwater.

Only a Raging Wave Knight had the ability to repel Fishmen underwater. A Ferocious warrior like Narsen would lose nine-tenths of his skill once in the water; if pestered by Fishmen, he would surely die. The same went for the others, if not worse. The members of the Randall expedition team scrambled onto the rafts as quickly as possible and looped thick hemp ropes around the necks of the two remaining Alchemical Dragon-Lizards. The rest either paddled or worked the sculling oars, doing everything in their power to propel the heavy rafts toward the deep water.

Beneath the surface, unseen by the others, the Dragonkin forms of Dili and Fugerui were silently protecting the rafts from Fishmen attacks. The green dragon bloodline granted the Dragonkin raiders the ability to manipulate water currents. Compared to Raging Wave Knights, they were even more adapted to underwater combat. The Aura of Fear from their Dragon’s Might had a wider range in the water, continuously pressuring the souls of the Fishmen and forcing them to swim desperately away.

Unfortunately, the Dragonkin raiders’ transformation had a time limit. Once Dili and Fugerui reverted to their Dragonoid forms, the emboldened Fishmen would launch a frenzied assault, and the two Dragonkin handmaidens would inevitably meet a bitter end beneath the waves.

Dili and Fugerui escorted the two log rafts several kilometers toward the deep water. Without so much as a word to the others, they turned and swam back to the North Shore of the Goldwater River.

Narsen watched the two straight white lines cut through the surging river surface, shooting rapidly toward the North Shore. He said in a low voice, “Now, we can only rely on ourselves… Everyone, paddle hard! We’re not out of the shallows yet!”

He was about to snatch an oar from an Alchemical militia-man when Charlotte stepped forward to stop him. “My lordship, paddling requires coordination. It’s best to leave this to Reno, Shak, and the others.” As she spoke, she glanced at Imosen.

The Wizard took the hint and nodded. He let out a whistle, and from the holds of the two rafts emerged more than twenty large otters with sleek, dark fur. They were over a meter long, with round heads that made them look cute and silly, but they were actually ferocious predators, nicknamed the “wolves of the water.”

These giant otters had originally lived in a small tributary of the Goldwater River. They were a whole family, caught by Imoson the Wizard in one fell swoop to be used as material for cultivating Aquatic Aberrant Beasts. Since their cultivation had only just begun, the signs of Aberration on their bodies were not yet obvious. They were only slightly stockier than before, and their combat strength had not increased, but it was enough for them to serve as underwater scouts.

The pack of otters slid silently and nimbly into the water. With their sharp teeth, they chewed through the hemp ropes connecting the wooden support frames to the bottom of the rafts. Narsen and the others used poles to push the frames away, reducing the rafts’ drag. The speed of the two rafts immediately increased, but they didn’t abandon the wooden frames. Instead, they threw out grappling hooks, caught the frames, and tied them to the back of the rafts.

These two wooden frames served as a resting place for the otters and as spare materials for repairing the rafts.

Now, with more than twenty aberrant giant otters serving as Imoson the Wizard’s eyes and ears underwater, they could monitor the movements of the fish-headed monsters and adjust the rafts’ course in time to avoid unnecessary conflicts with the Fishmen.

The two log rafts, carrying the last surviving members of The Randell Expeditionary Force, cut through the vast river, leaving trails of white foam in their wake as they sped toward the dark, deep water.

Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the leaves, casting columns of light into the deep, dark forest. A leaf drifted lazily down, but suddenly began to spin in mid-air, twirling a few times as if an invisible force had swept past, just enough to nudge the palm-sized leaf.

On the branch of an unknown ancient tree, Victor gripped the hilt of his Elemental Rune longsword and sighed helplessly. Because he was suppressing his high-elven bloodline, his human bloodline had become more active, requiring him to eat to replenish his physical stamina. Although Victor had been extremely careful to hide the traces of his fruit gathering, two days after fleeing the waterfall pool, the high-ranking ants had caught up to him.

A blurry white shadow flickered in the light-and-dark-dappled forest. Like a silent specter, it lunged violently toward the tree where Victor was perched.

Victor had already snapped the thigh-thick branch and was sliding toward the ground, narrowly avoiding the enemy’s pounce. With a muffled thud, the thick tree trunk completely exploded. Before the wide canopy could topple, the white figure inverted itself and pursued Victor.

It was a four-armed Ant-man. Its silvery-white carapace was marked with twelve strange purple patterns. One pair of these magic tattoos glowed. Its expressionless face was like an exquisite, beautiful mask. In its four hands, it held four weapons shaped like bladeless, pointed iron rods, somewhat similar to Victor’s Saron Demon Iron spear, but the main material used to forge them was precious Adamantine.

The strength of this four-armed Ant-man was terrifying. A single horizontal sweep of its weapons could shatter a tree trunk; when it struck the ground, the thick layer of humus immediately ruptured. The four-armed Ant-man spun its body, and its four pointed rods transformed into four spiraling purple lights, like a tidal wave, attempting to draw Victor in and tear him to shreds.

Facing the four-armed Ant-man’s tempest of blows, Victor retreated at high speed. It was as if he had eyes in the back of his head; he constantly used the trees of the forest to cleverly block the Ant-man’s strikes and slow its pursuit, always maintaining a safe distance from his opponent. He even had the leisure to ask:

“Are you the Ant-man Empress now, or the Spider Lady?”

The four-armed Ant-man completely ignored Victor, shattering another large tree and sending splinters and bark flying like crossbow bolts.

Victor sidestepped, avoiding the volley of wood fragments. His breathing steady, he said, “We should talk. If the conditions are right, I might consider surrendering.”

The response was a continuous series of ferocious horizontal slashes.

“I made a mistake before. I thought that four-armed Ant-man was the perfect body you were cultivating for yourself… Now it seems that wasn’t the case. The monster shaped like the Spider Lady is the core of the ant swarm’s psionic network. You have to go through Her first to project your primary consciousness.” Victor spoke as he nimbly dodged his opponent’s attacks. “Killing one four-armed Ant-man is actually meaningless. I must admit that my attempt to seal you has failed.”

“…Actually, it didn’t fail completely. I destroyed the divine crystal. You were unwilling to be imprisoned on Spirit-Devouring Island, so you had no choice but to project your entire will into the Spider Lady’s perfect body. This awakened ‘Her’… I am certain that the Spider Lady’s perfect body possesses a very powerful instinct, capable of birthing a new self-awareness, just like the Black Blood Sovereign. Then She will distort your will, assimilate you, and finally… devour you.”

“Since you’re going to perish anyway, why not listen to my suggestion… If there can be one divine crystal, there can be a second. Tell me how to make Elemental Rune Crystals, and when I return to the Randell Fief, I’ll ask Sylvia and Beldina to make another divine crystal for you… Killing me won’t save you. Don’t waste your time on me. You should focus your strength on resisting the Spider Lady’s will.”

The four-armed Ant-man suddenly stopped its pursuit. It floated in the air, its four weapons crossed before its chest, aimed at Victor in a power-gathering posture. An invisible psionic force opened a channel through the air. It seemed to teleport, sliding in front of Victor as its four adamantine rods chopped down at his head.

This attack was as fast as lightning and exceptionally fierce. Victor barely managed to dodge in time.

The two continued their battle in the forest. The four-armed Ant-man focused solely on attacking, completely forgoing defense. Victor, on the other hand, relied on his agile and nimble movements to evade the Ant-man’s fierce onslaught while recording information about his opponent.

Instinct told Victor that the Spider Lady’s instinctive will would not kill him so carelessly. It was obvious that this four-armed Ant-man was carrying out the Ant-man Empress’s orders to pursue, pester, and eliminate Victor, but the Empress’s primary consciousness had not descended upon this particular Ant-man.

This meant one of two things: either the Ant-man Empress was suppressing the Spider Lady’s instinct and was unable to project her own will, or she had cultivated not one or two four-armed Ant-men, but an entire group. Or, both possibilities existed simultaneously: the Ant-man Empress was both fighting the Spider Lady’s instinctive will and had dispatched all her four-armed Ant-men to hunt down Victor.

The four-armed Ant-man was like an alchemical creature. Its strength was extremely formidable, a notch higher than even Victor’s Body of Bedrock. Its movement speed was also slightly superior to Victor’s in his current state. Its combat techniques seemed to be loaded from a skill set, consisting mainly of arcing slashes with occasional thrusts. Its movements were gorgeous and graceful, with a dance-like rhythm that was reminiscent of an elven War Dancer.

However, the four-armed Ant-man’s fighting style completely abandoned defense, parrying, and dodging. Its psionic force field compensated for this weakness. It attacked, attacked, and attacked again, taking continuous assault to the extreme until it either killed its opponent or was killed by its opponent.

Victor assessed the four-armed Ant-man’s basic attributes to be on par with a Dragonkin. Unfortunately, its primary function was to serve as a vessel for the Ant-man Empress’s consciousness to descend into. Its own wisdom was very low; it had neither ignited the fire of the mind nor did it possess the talent for combat intuition.

If one’s strength and speed couldn’t overwhelm an opponent, then one would be overwhelmed by an opponent who had ignited the fire of the mind.

Even with Victor in his current weakened state, the four-armed Ant-man’s strength and speed had not reached a level where they could overwhelm him.

The problem was that the four-armed Ant-man’s movement speed was indeed a sliver faster than Victor’s. Now that his location had been exposed, more four-armed Ant-men would be coming after him.

Victor could handle two or three four-armed Ant-men at once without much pressure, but if he had to face more than five simultaneously, he probably couldn’t manage.

Time was short. Victor had no intention of continuing to pester this four-armed Ant-man. With a tap of his toes, he flickered like a ghostly phantom behind the Ant-man and swung his Elemental Rune longsword, tracing a piercing inverted “V” of light through the air.

As the gleaming blade cut into the four-armed Ant-man’s psionic force field, Victor felt a distinct, pliant resistance. The psionic energy of high-ranking ants excelled at defense and Reinforcement; offensive applications were relatively rare. In terms of pure defensive effect, the four-armed Ant-man’s psionic shield was comparable to a suit of heavy Thorium armor.

Victor couldn’t use his Body of Bedrock. His own strength was only at the level of an average Silver Knight, so it was unlikely he could cut through the Ant-man’s psionic shield with a single sword stroke.

So, he used Narsen’s signature “Breath-Gathering Slash.” The edge of the Elemental Rune longsword had barely cut into the psionic shield when he unleashed a second burst of force—a forty percent increase in power. The bright, dazzling sword light barely paused as it severed all four of the high-ranking ant’s arms.

Victor followed up with a horizontal slash, the light of his sword sweeping across the four-armed Ant-man’s waist. At that moment, the Ant-man’s spinning slash had not yet ceased. Its body was instantly severed in two. The limbless upper torso fell to the ground, while its two legs, still attached to the hips, continued to spin for several more turns before toppling over. It was a truly bizarre scene.

The humus covering the forest floor, like a living monster, greedily absorbed the blood gushing from the four-armed Ant-man. Though its abdomen had suffered a grievous wound, it did not die instantly. A flicker finally appeared in its indifferent eyes—the Ant-man Empress’s consciousness had descended upon this dying vessel.

“……She and I will be here soon. You can’t escape anyway. Why not let me kill you and end it all?”

The Ant-man Empress threw Victor’s own words right back at him.

Victor’s dark eyes narrowed slightly. He plunged his sword downward, piercing the four-armed Ant-man’s exquisite head. He turned and swiftly vanished into the boundless forest.

Chapter 891: Awakening

Deep in the dense forest, Victor, holding his rune longsword, casually chopped down a two-meter-tall great banana tree. This peculiar plant grew only in the forests near the Asoerta Mountains. Its fruit was poisonous, but its crisp, tender heart was sweet and delicious, more nutritious than most fruits, and it was a staple food gathered by the Assyrian savage tribes.

Victor peeled out the pale red heart of the tree and had just taken a couple of bites when a hazy white shadow lunged at him from the side. Without a glance, he hooked the fallen great banana tree with his foot, kicking the several-hundred-pound trunk toward his attacker.

Bang! With a loud crash, the great banana tree was unsurprisingly blasted apart in mid-air. The attacker’s speed slowed for a moment before it charged toward Victor’s original position with even greater ferocity, only to be met by the sharp glint of a sword.

The enemy ambushing Victor was another Four-armed Ant-man. It wielded four heavy Adamantine spiked maces. Just as it was about to be struck by the sword’s light, it came to a halt in mid-air and changed direction, like a tangible yet formless phantom, drifting to the other side and narrowly avoiding Victor’s fierce slash.

At that moment, two more Four-armed Ant-men, both resembling female elves, entered the fray. They formed a triangular formation, surrounding Victor.

“Pah! It’s rude to interrupt someone’s meal. You’ll pay for this with your lives!” Victor shouted angrily, taking the initiative to attack the Four-armed Ant-men.

The sap from the great banana tree, red as blood, still stained the corners of his mouth and his breastplate. His handsome face was slightly twisted with fury. This would have been unimaginable before, but the Victor of today was like a different person. A ferocious aura emanated from him, and his fighting style was different from his usual one. The crisscrossing sword flashes were exceptionally vicious, carrying a hint of wild fervor.

The Four-armed Ant-men, who feared no death and knew only to obey orders, showed uncharacteristic caution. Using the directional-changing properties of their psionic force fields, they chose to avoid the brunt of Victor’s attacks. Only when they couldn’t dodge would they use feints and sneak attacks to rescue their allies.

The three Four-armed Ant-men shared a telepathic link, coordinating their movements with exquisite precision. They circled and flitted around Victor, their graceful postures like darting butterflies, forming a stark contrast to Victor’s wild, fiery combat style.

Victor’s attacks were fierce and violent, yet he couldn’t break through his opponents’ triangular formation. He was like a caged beast under their siege. The three Four-armed Ant-men were clearly trying to wear down his stamina and will, employing a strategy that prioritized evasion, only launching a fatal strike against him when the right opportunity presented itself.

Strangely, while the glint of Victor’s swinging sword seemed unstoppable, it never touched so much as a single shrub. The Four-armed Ant-men, on the other hand, would topple trees and shatter the ground with their occasional attacks, creating a frightening spectacle.

The battle between them had severely damaged this part of the forest. The ground was pockmarked with craters, and shattered trees lay everywhere. After a moment, Victor’s assault noticeably slowed. The Four-armed Ant-men seized the opportunity to tighten their encirclement, compressing his room to maneuver. When Victor accidentally stepped on a broken tree trunk, a slight falter appeared in his nimble footwork, and the three Four-armed Ant-men counterattacked almost simultaneously.

One Four-armed Ant-man lifted off the ground, hovering in mid-air to gather power. It crossed its four Adamantine spiked maces as its psionic force field pushed the air aside, forming a channel aimed directly at Victor. In the next moment, it would use this psionic channel to unleash a lightning-fast charge attack. Because the Four-armed Ant-man had completely abandoned its own defense, pouring all its psionic energy into the coming attack, the power of this Psionic Strike was terrifying—almost three times that of a normal attack.

The most frightening aspect of the Psionic Strike was not its lightning-fast charge speed or its powerful destructive effect, but the sheer intimidation it created before being unleashed, much like a drawn military heavy crossbow would always exert immense psychological pressure on an opponent.

The other two Four-armed Ant-men, on Victor’s left and right, used Whirlwind Slash, bearing down on him from the sides. Their bodies spun at high speed, causing their four Adamantine spiked maces to whistle and whirl. The movement was as graceful and beautiful as a dance, yet it brought a death that would shatter its victims to pieces.

Psionic Strike and the Dance of Death were the Four-armed Ant-men’s most common combat techniques; these two moves were all they ever used.

Seemingly trapped in a desperate situation, Victor revealed a faint, almost unnoticeable smile. With a flick of his wrist, he flung two throwing knives at the Ant-man directly in front of him. The air had been parted into a channel by the Ant-man’s psionic force field. The sharp knives flew down this channel, transforming into two chilling glints of light that instantly pierced the Ant-man’s eyes.

This was possible thanks to the Four-armed Ant-men’s lack of a combat intuition talent; they normally relied on their tough and flexible psionic shields to block damage. When they used Psionic Strike, their eyes became a fatal weakness. The speed of Victor’s throwing knives was beyond the Four-armed Ant-man’s visual tracking ability. Yet, even with two knives piercing its eyes and penetrating its brain, the heavily wounded Ant-man did not fall. It even went on to launch its Psionic Strike.

Victor turned his body sideways. His rune longsword skillfully brushed against the Adamantine spiked mace of one Ant-man, using a gentle force to guide it in front of him, causing it to collide with the Ant-man on his right.

And so, the Dance of Death crashed into another Dance of Death. Then, the Psionic Strike slammed heavily into both of them.

The blinded Four-armed Ant-man had its head smashed to pieces by its ally’s Dance of Death. Its Psionic Strike, in turn, shattered its two allies’ psionic shields and sent them flying.

Victor took a gliding step forward and decapitated one of the Ant-men in mid-air, now that it had lost its psionic protection. The last Four-armed Ant-man was thrown to the other side. It wasn’t dead, but two of its arms had been broken in the collision.

Victor leaped over and delivered a fierce leaping slash at the injured Ant-man. The sword’s light fell like a bolt of silk, only to be blocked by the Ant-man with its two remaining Adamantine spiked maces.

The blade of the rune longsword pressed against the Adamantine spiked maces, making a creaking, groaning sound. With his fire of the mind, Victor had a hundred ways to kill the Four-armed Ant-man before him, but he chose to engage it in a contest of pure strength.

The Four-armed Ant-men possessed astonishingly high strength attributes; perhaps only a Gold rank barbarian could clash with them head-on. This Ant-man had two broken arms, but the seemingly severe injury had little effect on it. Its strength was still a cut above Victor’s. Even in an awkward, half-kneeling, half-lying position that wasn’t ideal for exerting force, it steadily blocked the extraordinary longsword pressing toward its neck.

The fire of the mind illuminated him from within. Victor had already pushed his own strength to its absolute limit. The muscles beneath his Thorium composite leather armor bulged like thin iron wires, and veins popped out on the back of his hands, yet he still couldn’t drive the blade into the Ant-man’s neck. They remained at a stalemate for over ten seconds, during which the Four-armed Ant-man re-gathered its psionic energy and deployed a psionic shield.

As the Ant-man recovered and its bent-back waist began to straighten, a grayish-red film swiftly clouded Victor’s eyes. He pressed down on the hilt with both hands, his strength surging in waves, like a relentless tide, each wave stronger than the last. The gleaming blade pressed against the Ant-man’s psionic shield, looking like a twisting, trembling silver serpent.

With the sound of tearing silk, the Elemental Rune longsword forcibly tore through the Four-armed Ant-man’s psionic shield and cleaved its body in two, diagonally from the shoulder.

Overpowering his opponent head-on with pure strength, Victor felt an indescribable exhilaration. He couldn’t help but lift his head and let out a hearty, piercing cry toward the sky above the forest.

The birds and beasts of the forest had long since fled at the start of the battle. Victor’s cry of release echoed through the woods, with the Four-armed Ant-man lying in a pool of its own blood as its only audience. It was on the verge of death, yet a bright spiritual light suddenly shone in its indifferent eyes. A voice drifted out faintly, “Your Highness Randall, why not use that Wind Walk talent you’re so proud of? It seems your situation is the same as mine. I must resist the Spider Lady’s instinctive will, and you are resisting the will of the Sun Elf bloodline… You exhaust all your strength to kill three of my spider servants, and you’re this happy about it? I have many more spider servants by my side. But you can rest assured, I will send another three to hunt you next time. Your desperate struggles are quite amusing to me. I do wonder, however, how much longer you can last…”

Victor’s strength seemed to have been completely drained. An unnatural flush appeared on his face, and he leaned on his longsword for support, his wrists still trembling slightly. Seeing his weakened state as he struggled to suppress his panting, the sliver of the Ant-man Empress’s will finally departed from the dying vessel.

It was the fifteenth day since Victor had left the waterfall pool. He had been ambushed a total of six times, all by Four-armed Ant-men. The first two attacks were by a single Ant-man each, then two, and starting from the fourth attack, three Four-armed Ant-men had been sent to intercept him.

Victor understood that the Ant-man Empress had locked onto him. But he found it strange. Why was the Ant-man Empress employing the strategy of boiling a frog in warm water, slowly draining his vigor?

Although his strength had fully recovered, his unwillingness to overuse his High Elf bloodline talents meant the Four-armed Ant-men’s mobility was superior to his. If the Ant-man Empress had sent five or more Four-armed Ant-men at once, or had personally come to intercept him, Victor felt he would have been in real danger.

The only explanation Victor could think of for why the Four-armed Ant-men were coming to their deaths in twos and threes was that the Ant-man Empress was afraid of him unleashing the divine power of the Sun Elf. She would rather sacrifice some Four-armed Ant-men to fight a war of attrition with him, slowly grinding him down.

Victor did not have a wild intuition talent, but the Purple Gold Coin amulet warming against his chest told him that the perfect body shared by the Ant-man Empress and the Spider Lady was hidden somewhere in the nearby forest.

The fact that the Ant-man Empress had yet to show herself meant that She was extremely wary of the Sun Elf’s divine nature. It wasn’t hard for Victor to deduce that the Sun Elf’s divine nature would stimulate the Spider Lady’s instinctive will. If the Sun Elf and the Spider Lady were drawn to each other, then both the Ant-man Empress and Victor would be in trouble.

Therefore, the Ant-man Empress had to kill Victor to continue suppressing the Spider Lady’s instinctive will. Only then would She have more time to figure out how to solve the problem of Her future survival.

The Ant-man Empress didn’t dare push Victor too hard, and Victor didn’t dare use his Sun Elf bloodline talents. The two had reached a delicate balance.

Realizing this, Victor decided to stop using even his passive Wind Walk talent. The Scales of the Mind tipped toward his human bloodline’s Talent Tree. This was the first time he had ever relinquished the extraordinary power granted by his High Elf bloodline. Under the continuous pressure of combat and self-suggestion, the perpetually weaker human bloodline’s Talent Tree finally underwent a startling transformation.

He had now successfully awakened two brand-new abilities—or to be precise, one Transcendent combat skill and one new talent.

Victor combined the human-oriented Combat Breathing Method, Narsen’s Breath-Gathering Slash, and Rogers’ active berserk ability. Through repeated practical application in his fights with the Four-armed Ant-men, he fused them together, creating a strength-stacking technique he called the Raging Tide Combat Technique.

Raging Tide Combat Technique: With every attack Victor landed, including successful blocks, his strength would increase by seven to ten percent. This could stack up to fifteen times for a total strength increase of one hundred and fifty percent.

In truth, barbarian berserkers had a similar combat technique, one that stacked both strength and speed. The barbarian Elder Harald had once used such a technique to easily suppress the Borrey United Kingdom’s Gold Knight, Grand Duke Peter.

Though Victor’s Raging Tide Combat Technique lacked a speed-enhancing effect, it also caused less damage to his own body, which meant it could be sustained for longer and used with more versatility. As an agility-focused warrior, he had used the Raging Tide Combat Technique to stack nine layers of strength and overwhelm the Four-armed Ant-man in a direct contest of strength.

The second new ability was Gluttony.

The Gnolls’ Ancestor God was known as the Lord of Gluttony, which was why Gnolls possessed the Gluttony talent. After one full meal, they could go more than ten days without eating and could run for over one thousand kilometers continuously.

The Gluttony talent Victor awakened wasn’t on the same level as a Gnoll’s, but it still significantly improved his utilization of food and potions, allowing him to quickly recover stamina and vigor, and repair physical damage.

The Gluttony talent seemed ordinary, but its significance was immense. The Gnolls relied on their Gluttony talent to ensure their tribe’s survival and procreation, often leaving their enemies helpless against them. For Victor, unable to use his Surge talent, the Gluttony talent compensated for his lack of sustainability—a flaw that was often fatal.

Chapter 892: Tense Deployments

On the ravaged battlefield, Victor picked up the hearts of the great banana trees, wolfing them down without a care for his image. He had just dealt with three Four-armed Ant-men, putting on a show of struggling as if he had reached his limit. While it was an act for the Ant-man Empress, it was also true that he was now exhausted and starving.

These were the aftereffects of using the Raging Tide Combat Technique, which included intense emotional fluctuations. In his previous physical and mental state, even if Victor had killed a whole group of Four-armed Ant-men at once, he wouldn’t have been as exhilarated as he was just now.

The Sun Elf’s divine power had indeed been buried deep within Victor’s mind, and with it, the power of his humanity had grown, beginning to dominate his physical and mental state.

In truth, both Raging Tide and Gluttony were newly created and had many flaws that could be improved. But the timing was wrong; Victor had neither the time nor a suitable environment to further refine the new changes to his human Bloodline Talent Tree.

The Raging Tide Combat Technique and Gluttony might have other drawbacks Victor didn’t know about, but he believed that as long as he reactivated his Surge talent and absorbed the free-floating water elements in the air, he could heal any physical damage they caused.

Victor devoured the crisp, tender, and sweet banana tree hearts, but his hunger and thirst, far from being sated, grew even stronger. The corpses of the Four-armed Ant-men even began to look appetizing. Meat was certainly more nutritious than banana tree hearts, but the Gluttony talent had already stirred his bestial instincts. He made a mental note of these subtle changes to his physical and mental state, not intending to further indulge his voracious appetite.

Using X-3 to correct his emotional deviation, Victor casually tossed aside the half-eaten banana tree heart and began to collect his spoils of war.

The Four-armed Ant-men carried nothing of value aside from their Adamantine spiked maces. However, the Ant-man craftsmen who forged these maces clearly hadn’t considered cost, using generous amounts of high-quality materials. The maces were hefty and hadn’t suffered any damage despite withstanding the monstrous force of the Four-armed Ant-men’s attacks.

Victor weighed an Adamantine spiked mace in his hand, estimating its Adamantine content to be over fifty percent. If sold on the markets of the human kingdoms, it could fetch a high price of at least ten thousand Gold Sol.

The Four-armed Ant-men, who should now be called Spider Handmaidens, had “gifted” Victor more than thirty of these Adamantine spiked maces, worth over three hundred thousand Gold Sol. This could be considered partial compensation for his losses.

A slender, graceful figure shot out from the depths of the forest, reaching Victor’s side in a flash.

“My King, I’ve brought you some delicious honey!”

The blue-haired, blue-eyed Dragonkin handmaiden Mewen, her long, fair legs bare, delightedly presented a large, emerald-green banana leaf to her master. Upon it lay three large chunks of golden, fragrant wild honey.

Victor was overjoyed. He took the great banana leaf from the Dragonkin handmaiden’s hands and affectionately pinched her beautifully curved chin, smiling as he said, “You can collect these spoils of war on the ground.”

At that moment, in his eyes, the Adamantine spiked maces worth ten thousand gold each were no match for the three chunks of wild honey. The Dragonkin handmaiden Mewen was thrilled to be able to gather her master’s treasures with her own hands.

She belonged to her master, so her master’s treasures were her treasures.

The wild honey from the Endless Forest was sweet, soft, and had an exquisite texture. Victor finished it in three bites, naturally extending his tongue to lick the great banana leaf clean, smacking his lips as if wanting more.

A memory of stealing honey as a child surfaced in his mind.

The old Baron Wimbledon had supplemented the family’s income by gathering wild honey from the mountain forests, but the wild bees were so ferocious that even apprentice knights were unwilling to provoke them. The old Baron recruited refugees to form a honey-gathering team, but every year, people were injured or killed in the process. The little Baron would be severely punished by his father for stealing honey, so from a young age, he developed the habit of licking the honey clean.

Now, getting honey was easy for him. With just a single glance from his Dragonkin handmaiden, a vast swarm of wild bees would perish.

The taste of honey had stirred up nearly forgotten memories and childhood habits. Victor shook his head, pushing down the tumultuous thoughts, and quickly left the scene with Mewen.

A moment later, he felt the Purple Gold Coin amulet on his chest was not as hot as before, indicating he had put some distance between himself and the Spider Lady’s perfect body. Of course, it wouldn’t be long before the Ant-man Empress caught up, but the time he had bought was enough to make his next arrangements.

“Mewen, have you located the Ant-man Empress?” Victor asked, his usual composure restored and his expression calm.

The Dragonkin handmaiden Mewen had rendezvoused with Victor six days ago, but Victor had been entangled with the Ant-man Empress’s claws, so they had only met secretly once. Afterward, Mewen was ordered to scout the Ant-man Empress’s movements.

Victor had been leading the Ant-man Empress in circles through the forest, luring her near the assembly point for his alchemical creatures. Three days ago, the Dragonkin handmaidens Dili and Fugerui had also arrived at the designated assembly point and taken command of forty third-level Source-Blood Militia, six Alchemical Warhounds, and the Aberrant Dire Bear.

Now, Victor could begin to consider a plan to counterattack the Ant-man Empress.

“My King, I have found the Ant-man Empress. I saw Her from a distance. She is a terrifying half-human, half-spider monster now.” Mewen nodded and spoke quickly, “She has twelve Four-armed Ant-men by Her side, but there are at least forty more in the surrounding forest. Also, an Ant-man army is heading towards Her position. Their numbers are vast, but they lack a commander. I estimate that at your current pace, a group of white-armored ants will be the first to reach the Ant-man Empress in six days.”

Victor stroked his smooth chin and sighed inwardly.

The Ant-man Empress wanted him dead because She knew that the Spider Lady’s perfect body craved the Sun Elf’s divine nature. If Victor died, She would have a slim chance of breaking free from the Spider Lady’s control.

However, killing Victor was no easy task. That being the case, why didn’t the Ant-man Empress just let Victor leave? Or why didn’t She move in the opposite direction, away from him? Weakening and severing the soul connection between the Spider Lady and the Sun Elf through sheer distance should have been an easier feat, shouldn’t it?

Victor analyzed that the Spider Lady’s instinctive will had likely begun to influence the Ant-man Empress’s actions. It was the perfect body that was chasing him, and the Ant-man Empress had no choice but to follow.

Conversely, Victor had more reason to kill the Ant-man Empress—or more accurately, to kill the Spider Lady’s perfect body, since they were one and the same now.

Because besides the Sun Elf’s divine nature, the Soul Fire units from Alchemy Tower No. 6 also attracted the Spider Lady’s perfect body. Those were undying Soul Fires originating from a demon sovereign; any high-level demon would covet them.

Only by eliminating the Spider Lady’s perfect body could Victor be at ease. Otherwise, that spider demon would hound him relentlessly.

It certainly wouldn’t be easy, but it wasn’t impossible.

Thinking about it now, Victor realized the Spider Lady’s perfect body might not be invincibly powerful; it just happened to perfectly counter his abilities.

Death was the end of all life. Even long-lived species could be killed, and the Spider Lady’s perfect body was no exception.

If the third-level Source-blood militia were considered alchemical combat units, their level was a bit low, but they possessed strength comparable to mid-rank Bronze Knights. In theory, they could harm any creature. What’s more, Victor had three Dragonoids, who were considered Legendary-level combatants on the Prime Material Plane. In addition, the Aberrant Dire Bear controlled by Imoson the Wizard was not to be underestimated.

Most critically, the perfect body was, in fact, not perfect. The Ant-man Empress was actively trying to sabotage the Spider Lady. Victor wondered just how much power the Spider Lady could actually wield.

What was truly terrifying was the Ant-man Empress and Her claws.

If the Spider Handmaidens were viewed as alchemical units, their biological level should be in the same tier as the Dragonoids.

Victor even created a model for them:

Spider Handmaiden (Four-armed Ant-man): Possesses super strength, super defense, extraordinary agility, psionic scan, psionic force field, Mental Link, and serves as a vessel. It has mastered three combat techniques: Evasion, Dance of Death, and Psionic Strike.

Alright, these abilities looked a bit frightening, but their actual combat performance could only be described as abysmal.

Of course, that was the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s evaluation. Even if the Spider Handmaidens weren’t true combat units, they could kill a third-level Source-Blood Militiaman with a single blow, an absolute fatality with no chance of escape. But the Spider Handmaidens had low intelligence, weak self-awareness, and rigid behavioral patterns. They were at least a full generation behind the Dragonoids.

It would be even easier for Mewen, Dili, and Fugerui to kill them than it was for Victor.

However, there were quite a few Spider Handmaidens, and the Ant-man Empress had a large number of reinforcements… Victor shook his head. As long as there was a possibility of killing the Ant-man Empress, he couldn’t give up, even if it meant sacrificing his three Dragonkin handmaidens.

“Did War Ant King Taorminos agree to cooperate?” Victor asked.

Mewen shook her head and said, “Groth Broodmother Ann said that the War Ant King rejected our proposal. It has decided to head east to the Oak Savannah to rule over the Ant-man race’s vanguard legion and stay away from the Ant-man Empress. However, it did reveal one piece of information: the Ant-man Empress’s control over the ant swarms is much weaker than before.”

Victor sneered, “That insect isn’t so stupid after all. It wants to use my hand to get rid of the Ant-man Empress without lifting a finger itself… No matter. Sylvia will slaughter it and hang its head on the main gate of the Black Fortress.”

War Ant King Taorminos actually represented the residual will of the King of the Spirit Realm. Generally speaking, it should hate the Spider Lady. Unfortunately, the hatred of the King of the Spirit Realm was beyond ordinary comprehension. Taorminos prioritized survival, and his intention to use this opportunity to escape the Ant-man Empress’s enslavement was within Victor’s expectations.

The information Taorminos revealed proved that the Ant-man Empress was currently in disarray, which was enough for Victor to make his decision.

“Have you contacted Imosen?”

“Yes, he used Wisdom Guidance two days ago to indicate that starting today, he is ready to join the battle at any time. We agreed that we’ll stab the Aberrant Dire Bear in the rear with a dagger, and he’ll know.”

Victor nodded. “Good. The attack will be in two days. I will display my strength to draw in more Four-armed Ant-men and create an opportunity for you to strike the Ant-man Empress…” He trailed off into silence, then after a long moment, asked, “Have you found Aka?”

Mewen sensed her master’s inner pain and gently shook her head. “No, he might be deliberately hiding from us.”

Victor had already guessed that Caligula was Father Miller’s backup plan against the Ant-man Empress. Aka might become his savior, but whenever he thought of Aka’s simple, foolish appearance, Victor felt a deep sense of unease.

“Aka, Aka… His fate shouldn’t be decided by the Lord of Radiance! That old man Miller, I’m starting to detest him…” Victor clenched his fists, muttering to himself in resentment.

“Mewen, listen. If Caligula joins your battle, you can abandon the mission to kill the Ant-man Empress. I demand that you prioritize Aka’s safety at all costs… This is my will!”

“My King, we obey your will!”

Randell Fief, Silver Moon Manor, the balcony on the third floor.

Sylvia wore a loose, comfortable white spider-silk robe, her golden hair cascading over her fair, delicate shoulders. She sat with her legs crossed, smiling at Sophia. “My love, I must thank you for bringing the barbarians to support us.”

The beautiful and enchanting Marchioness Wimbledon, dressed in a matching spider-silk robe, raised a slender hand and lifted a coffee cup from the small round table, toasting Sylvia. She smiled sweetly. “I am Countess Randell. Now that the family is at war, how could I possibly stand by and do nothing?”

She set down the purple-gold coffee cup and said, a hint of apology in her voice, “The barbarians’ participation in this war was Elder Harald’s idea, and the mountain tribes all agreed. But they demand three times the amount of weapons and armor as their commission. For one thousand barbarian warriors to join the fight, I’d have to pay them three thousand sets of plate armor and six thousand refined iron battleaxes… Heavens, the one-handed axes the barbarians use are the size of two-handed battleaxes. How could I possibly afford that? Hiring seven hundred and six barbarian berserkers is already my limit.”

Sylvia shifted her posture, blinked, and changed the subject. “Is everything alright on the Arreat Plateau?”

Seeing Sylvia ignore her previous topic, Sophia was slightly disappointed. The York family was filthy rich now, but they were unwilling to pay to hire the barbarians, and there was nothing Sophia could do.

“Are you referring to… the demons?” Sophia sat up straight, her expression serious. “The situation on the Arreat Plateau is fine for now. However, the barbarians have discovered the ashen-blooded Grayhollow Satyrs… The Radiant Church already knows about this. But the Radiant Knights and the Sasan Empire can’t dispatch more troops to defend the Teutonic Duchy. The Church has issued a bounty notice, calling on large mercenary companies to assist the mountain tribes in hunting the Grayhollow Satyrs. Unfortunately, the bounty offered by the Church is limited, and most mercenary companies aren’t interested in going all the way to the Arreat Plateau… Oh, there is one large mercenary company that accepted the Church’s bounty mission. It’s The Bear Company that Victor foisted on me. Its name hasn’t changed, but all the mercenaries inside have been replaced. The Bear Company’s Grand Commander, Miss Viel, is an interesting person. She suffered a crushing defeat in the competition between mercenary companies in the East Pioneer Fief and was forced to sign a two-year contract to make a living on the Arreat Plateau. Yet she told me it was to train her troops, and that her Bear Company would one day become the greatest mercenary company.”

A strange light flashed in Sylvia’s azure eyes. She smiled and said, “The Bear Company’s Miss Viel… It seems she left quite an impression on you. She must be a very special person, hmm?”

Sophia thought of something amusing and let out a soft laugh. “Miss Viel is indeed witty and humorous, and a bit naive. Her Bear Company’s strength is just average… If you’re looking to hire some mercenaries with rich combat experience, I can help you recruit them.”

Sylvia waved her hand dismissively, teasing, “No, thank you. I only want the most elite cavalry. The large mercenary companies from the East Pioneer Fief have a great reputation now. If they came to my Oak Savannah, I’d have to pay their commission and prepare even more in compensation.”

Sophia fell silent for a moment, then said decisively, “My personal guard is small, but I will fight myself… just to repay Victor. You don’t mind me saying that, do you?”

Sylvia covered her mouth and giggled. “My love, I believe you sincerely want to repay Victor. Why would I mind? If anyone were to mind, it would be Trisley and Nicole, certainly not me… However, I would prefer it if you could help me procure a large amount of grain at a suitable price.”

Sophia’s slender, willow-like brows furrowed in confusion. “I thought your most urgent need was for troops…”

“That was before,” Sylvia said, cutting her off with a wave of her hand. “Ever since the news spread that the Elves’ Silverhawk City neighbors the Oak Savannah, the various kingdoms and the Church have been very proactive. They want to participate in diplomacy with the Elves and vie for potential trade opportunities. I can represent Victor and concede some benefits, but the Oak Savannah is unowned land that Victor discovered. It can only belong to Victor and me… I have already decided to postpone the southern expansion and prioritize selecting a site to build a port in the south of the Oak Savannah. Therefore, I need more grain and supplies, and I don’t want to be choked by the Sasan lords.”

Sophia said with some hesitation, “But I’ve already handed over the Wimbledon Merchant Association to Soren, and that fellow has just been promoted to Gold Knight. His prestige has soared. According to our agreement, the Wimbledon Merchant Association is responsible for large-scale grain trade. I’m not willing to provoke His Highness a Gale Knight at a time like this.”

Sylvia raised a beautiful eyebrow. “But the Wimbledon Merchant Association’s transport capacity is insufficient. The Golden Company can supplement it. In truth, you don’t need to worry about Soren. After all, His Eminence Clement is behind The Golden Company.”

Sophia said with difficulty, “His Holiness the Pontiff is unapproachable. He would never openly support me in violating an agreement.”

Sylvia pondered for a moment, then said, “Have you felt the two uprisings in the Elemental Sea of Wind within the last year? I can be certain that due to the uprisings in the Elemental Sea of Wind, the top Gale Knights of the various nations have all successfully entered the peak realm. Not just Soren, but also Viscount Negus of the Dodor Kingdom and Countess Andria of the Sasan Empire. They have all received the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s favor, especially Andria. She is also Victor’s lover. If you go to her, I believe she will definitely help you for Victor’s sake.”

Sophia shot to her feet, her expression a mixture of shock and fear. “I’m not sensitive to disturbances in the Elemental Sea of Wind… Victor, what on earth did he experience that required him to trigger uprisings in the Elemental Sea of Wind?!”

Marchioness Wimbledon’s unsettled appearance gave Sylvia a small sense of satisfaction. Victor had many lovers and partners, but only she had always maintained a certain connection with him. A few days ago, Victor had a sudden, intense burst of longing for her, which Sylvia had also captured. It was just that Victor’s current state didn’t seem very good, which made Sylvia worried and anxious.

“My dear Sophia, when Victor returns, you can ask him yourself. I imagine it will be quite a story.” Sylvia rose with an elegant posture and nodded. “Silver Moon Manor is your home as well. Please make yourself comfortable. I must take my leave.”

Passing through the spacious and bright living room and corridor, Sylvia arrived at the study of Silver Moon Manor and pushed the door open to enter. Raging Wave Knight Trisley was already waiting for her.

Throwing herself into a soft sofa, Sylvia beckoned to Trisley with a finger and said with a playful smile, “Darling, is there another flying serpent message from Victor?”

The petite, delicate, and beautiful sworn female knight, looking like a young girl in her combat gear, nodded. “Nicole sent a message from the front-line stronghold. She received another flying serpent. Victor demands that you kill a certain War Ant King, in case he fails to deal with it himself… The specific intelligence is on the table. Also, the front-line stronghold has already spotted traces of ant swarms, not many, about three thousand or so. As per your orders, our vanguard legion has not disturbed them for now.”

Sylvia nodded and said, “Very good. I’d rather deal with the Ant-man army on the Great Plains than get entangled with them in the Endless Forest. By the way, have our scouts found Silverhawk City that Victor mentioned?”

Trisley pouted and shook her head. “No news yet, but we know the general direction. We will definitely find the Elven city-state before the Paladins of the Testier family… I have two more things to tell you.”

“The Young Lady of the Chapman family had a huge fight with her mother, then took a retinue and secretly slipped out of the military camp in the Grey Rabbit Mountains, saying she was going to the Endless Forest to find Victor… Nicole has sent people after her, but they might not be able to find Gillian.”

Sylvia couldn’t help but press a hand to her smooth, full forehead and groan, “Gillian… such a handful. If she can make it out of the Endless Forest alive, Victor will surely dote on her even more.”

Trisley said irritably, “Unfortunately, that’s a big ‘if’… I didn’t expect Marchioness Chapman to be so ruthless.”

Sylvia glanced up at her, a smile playing on her lips. “Such a sour tone… Could it be that you also want to go to the Endless Forest to find Victor?”

“I’m not that foolish, and I won’t do something so stupid!” Trisley bit her lip, looking very unwilling. After a pause, she changed the subject. “I just ran into Lilia. She said the informant at the Laketon Church reported that Father Miller privately took a batch of holy power crystals, for an unknown purpose. Bishop Pello apparently went to see Father Miller about this matter but was blocked at the door.”

Sylvia’s enchanting blue eyes instantly turned a dark red, as if molten lava seethed within them. The air in the study grew heavy, almost solidifying. She was like an enraged lioness, seething with hatred. “If My love perishes, I will make Miller accompany him in death!”

Chapter 893: The Beginning

The riverbend was vast and magnificent, stretching beyond the horizon. The monsoon winds howled, sweeping over the lead-gray water and stirring up wave after wave. A steep cliff plunged into the water like a greatsword. The two log rafts of The Randell Expeditionary Force were moored at the edge of the riverbend, hugging the base of the cliff.

The rafts were deserted, save for the giant otters that would occasionally climb aboard with a large fish in their mouths, devouring their meal noisily. In a matter of days, these ferocious giant otters had grown to over two meters long, doubling in size. Their thick, dark, waterproof fur had all fallen out, replaced by a smooth, keratinous layer. A fin-like membrane of bone spurs had grown on their backs, stripping them of their former cute, round-headed appearance and leaving them looking savage and ugly.

Before long, the twenty-odd giant otters would become true Aquatic Aberrant Beasts, no longer needing to climb onto the rafts or log tow-boards to eat and rest.

For now, though, these giant otters, along with the six-meter-long Alchemical Dragon-Lizard, were still the little ones of the riverbend, not even capable of protecting the log rafts.

Just two kilometers from the rafts, beneath the river’s surface, Charlotte saw a colossal shadow moving slowly. It was the lord of this domain, a Savage Water Lizard-beast the Fishmen called “Ronironi.”

Water Lizard-beasts came in many forms. The most vicious was the Crocodile-Lizard Dragon Beast. Although they were neither crocodiles nor dragons, the fishermen and sailors of the Kingdom of Borea generally regarded them as dragons. A common Crocodile-Lizard Dragon Beast was only eight or nine meters long, with an appearance strikingly similar to a giant crocodile. They were intelligent, fierce, and hunted in packs, capable of cooperation and possessing a strong desire for revenge and a keen sense of territory. They were the most dangerous giant beasts in the Goldwater River.

Ronironi was three times the size of a common Crocodile-Lizard Dragon Beast. Its massive head alone was six meters long, and it measured a full twenty-eight meters from head to tail. The mist it sprayed formed rainbows, and a single swing of its tail could capsize the log rafts. As a creature in a Deeply Savaged State, Ronironi’s instincts were exceptionally sharp. When the two Alchemical Dragon-Lizards entered its territory, it sensed them in advance and swam over from the deep water, assuming an attack posture.

Fortunately, Imosen the Wizard was fluent in the language of beasts and knew how to bluff a terrifying Savage Crocodile-Lizard Dragon Beast. He’d chattered on for the better part of a day and finally won Ronironi over, gaining permission to fish in its territory. However, Charlotte believed that the person Ronironi truly liked was Beldina; the lizard lord’s attitude toward Bel could even be described as fawning.

Every day, it would linger near the log rafts, herding schools of fish for the giant otters and Alchemical Dragon-Lizard to prey upon. Then it would try to approach the rafts to play with Bel, never getting angry even when White Bread roared at it.

Unfortunately, Ronironi’s sheer size was a problem. The whirlpools created by its movements caused the rafts to rock from side to side. As a precaution, Charlotte had ordered Reno and Shak to moor the rafts by the cliff’s edge. If an accident were to happen, they could climb the cliff and abandon the rafts to save themselves.

Charlotte stood inside a cave in the cliff face, more than twenty meters above the river. It was a foothold that Lord Narsen had carved out.

Narsen always charged to the front in every battle. These past few days, unable to assist his liege lord in combat, he had grown silent and withdrawn, venting all his energy on the stone of the cliff. Without a word, he scaled the cliff face and began digging out rocks with his bare hands. When the others saw this, they climbed up to help. They chiseled with their weapons, smashed with their fists, and dug with their fingers. After two days and two nights, they had carved out a spacious cave in the rugged cliff.

The only thing the knights and Ferocious warriors of House of Randell could do now was to create a safe environment for the spellcasters. Imosen, his daughter, and Father Dayn could feel everyone’s anticipation. It was a heavy, touching sentiment, and an unspoken encouragement.

In the deepest part of the cave, the three spellcasters knelt quietly on beast-hide mats, meditating intently, striving to reach their optimal state for casting spells in support of His Highness Randell at a moment’s notice. Even Beldina had shed her usual lively, boisterous nature and was meditating quietly. Her delicate little face glowed with a soft light, making her appear serene and holy, beautiful beyond mortal ken.

“Only spellcasters can help Victor now,” Charlotte thought to herself as she watched Beldina. “Unlike us Bronze Knights, who can do nothing but dig rocks with our hands. Is praying to the Lord of Radiance all that’s left for us?”

The Lady Judy of the past would surely have prayed to the gods to protect her man. But as a veteran Bronze Knight, Charlotte was now used to finding her own solutions to problems. It was just that the power she possessed was far from enough to participate in the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s battle.

Regardless of their strength, Knights were intelligent and confident. Charlotte felt she had to do something more for the Master she loved.

Beldina was the first to finish meditating. After all, her task was to use Touch of Chaos to enhance her father’s spellcasting ability, including increasing his magical power and extending the duration of his spells. For a Chosen One, such tasks were simple. What’s more, Bel had absorbed some of the spirit essence of the Realm of All Spirits. If it were a matter of total magical reserves, no spellcaster could compare to her. Given her current spell level, she didn’t really need to meditate at all; her magic was practically inexhaustible.

The young girl opened her eyes, looked from side to side, and then tiptoed toward the cave entrance, afraid of disturbing Imosen and Dayne, who were still meditating.

At that moment, no one was talking. The atmosphere was quiet and somber. When the others saw Beldina approach, they merely nodded in greeting, not teasing and playing with her as they usually would.

Their gazes were fervent, filled with a kind of expectation, even a trace of reverence and pleading. Beldina suddenly felt a strange panic, an impulse to flee. Head down, she walked to the edge of the cave and sat. The Savage Bear-Dog “White Bread” came to its Young Master’s side, extending its tongue to lick her small hand. The girl and her dog huddled together, silently gazing at the shimmering surface of the river.

Beldina had had many worries in her life, but this one seemed particularly immense—so immense she couldn’t even understand what she was worried about, her mind a muddle of confused thoughts.

She didn’t know how much time had passed when a fair, slender hand appeared before her, holding several bright, beautiful red wild fruits.

“For you, Bel,” Charlotte said softly, sitting down beside Beldina. “I just picked these Rose-Scented Fruits. They’re sweet and sour, and very fresh.”

It was now the Season of Wind, when fruits ripened. The types of wild fruit in the Endless Forest were innumerable; some were sweet and delicious, others basically inedible. The Rose-Scented Fruit was named for its rose-like fragrance. Its taste was merely average, not among the finest of fruits. But the Randall expedition team had been traveling on the Goldwater River, and Beldina hadn’t eaten fresh fruits or vegetables for many days.

The Goldwater River had an endless supply of fish and seafood, but it had no fresh Rose-Scented Fruits. These had undoubtedly been gathered by Charlotte from the steep cliffs.

Beldina didn’t like Charlotte, because Charlotte was allowed to sleep in the Master’s tent, while Bel was not. But Beldina had to admit that My Lady Charlotte was a beautiful and gentle “big sister” who had always taken good care of her.

Most importantly, Bel really liked Rose-Scented Fruits.

Bel quickly took the Rose-Scented Fruits from Charlotte’s hand. After a moment’s hesitation, she left one for her.

Charlotte smiled faintly, placed the last wild fruit in Bel’s hand, and gently patted her head. “I know you dislike me a little, Bel,” she said softly. “Nicole, Lilia, and Ladies Elina and Alice have said plenty of bad things about me in front of you.”

Beldina was very embarrassed. “No… uh, I don’t remember…” she mumbled evasively.

“They’re jealous that I get to be with Victor every day, but they’re unwilling to give up the power and status, or the stable, comfortable, luxurious lives that Victor has given them.” Charlotte sighed faintly and continued, “There are many people in House of Randell, and everyone has their own personality and ideas. We can’t possibly like everyone in the family, yet we remain united, relying on and trusting one another… It is the Master who binds us closely together, and only then do we have a House of Randell that makes everyone feel warm and secure… Victor is the heart of the family. He is the family.”

“But House of Randell is too young, and Victor has no heir. If… I’m just saying, if Victor were gone, what would happen to House of Randell?”

“For all sorts of reasons, everyone would blame each other, argue, curse, and then fight, perhaps even come to blows… Bel, would you like a House of Randell like that?”

Beldina tried to imagine it and felt a chill run down her spine. She shook her head repeatedly. “I don’t! I don’t like it at all… I wish everyone wouldn’t fight.”

“Beldina. Randell!”

Charlotte’s voice suddenly became stern. Bel instinctively looked up and saw that Charlotte’s beautiful blue eyes were brimming with tears.

“Bel, I’m begging you. Help Victor… Only a spellcaster can help him now, and you are the most outstanding spellcaster.”

The young Chosen One quickly patted her budding chest and assured My Lady Charlotte that she would do her best to help Father Imosen, who in turn could do his best to help Master Victor.

Charlotte’s beautiful eyes reddened. She grasped Beldina’s small hand and said tearfully, “I’m afraid that’s not enough… His Excellency Imosen’s Aberrant Dire Bear is no stronger than the three Dragon Ladies. The Master needs additional help… Bel, I remember you have four Legendary Guardian Spirits. Can you… can you still summon them?”

“Ah, you mean Sugar Jar and the others…” Beldina’s expression was one of sudden realization. Then she bit her lip and nodded lightly. “Those four Guardian Spirits were Animal Spirits that Tutor Tumen helped me find. Sugar Jar is the smartest of them. They were originally the souls of elders that the Bear-monster clan worshiped for years. I completed their fragmented spiritual natures and fused them together, and that’s how I got Sugar Jar… I’m not sure if I can summon the other three Guardian Spirits now, but I can try to summon Sugar Jar again. But… I’ll need some summoning medium…”

“What is it?” Charlotte pressed.

“Delicious honey. The more, the better…”

“I’ll go find some now! I’ll be right back…”

Narsen shot out of the cave entrance like an arrow, the rush of air sending the girl’s fine hair fluttering. Before Beldina could even react, Blood Python Macy, Red Wolf Wolf, and also Brandon and Klaus had also run out to find honey.

Before long, the five powerhouses who had ignited the fire of their minds returned to the cave one after another, each bringing back some amount of wild honey.

The fragrant honey was placed before Beldina, and everyone watched her with expectant eyes.

Bel took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. She closed her eyes and began to mumble nonstop. Anyone who didn’t know better would have thought she was chanting a profound spell. In truth, summoning a Guardian Spirit required no incantation at all. Beldina was using a prayer-like, coaxing, threatening mumble that no one could understand to urge “Sugar Jar” to come out quickly. She grew more and more anxious, but unfortunately, the Holy Chains set by Father Miller could not be undone by mere impatience.

Finally, Beldina’s mouth trembled, and she said in a tearful voice, “Waaah… Sugar Jar is ignoring me! It’s been sealed, and I can’t undo it… What do I do?”

“Let me try.”

Father Dayn walked out slowly from the dark depths of the cave, his expression somewhat complicated. So-called Assyrian Guardian Spirits were, in the eyes of a priest of the Radiant Church, evil undead that needed to be purified. But Beldina’s Guardian Spirit was indeed powerful, at a Legendary-rank level. If “Sugar Jar” joined the battle, His Highness Randell’s chances of victory would certainly be higher.

But was it really appropriate to undo the seal of an Attendant of Radiance without permission?

Could it have the opposite effect?

Dayne wasn’t sure if what he was doing was right or wrong, but compared to the safety of His Highness Randell, borrowing the power of the undead was an acceptable course of action.

It was better than doing nothing. Otherwise, not only would Dayne be unable to forgive himself, he suspected that if the Raging Wind Sword Saint were to perish in battle, none of them would escape.

The Realm of All Spirits that Beldina had absorbed was very likely the main target of their unknown, powerful enemy.

Having made his decision, Dayne no longer hesitated. He took out the Holy Crystal given to him by Father Miller and said to Beldina, “I don’t have the power to break the divine seal. I can only use holy power to resonate with it and make the seal vibrate. You must seize the moment the seal loosens to summon your Guardian Spirit. Remember, you might only have one chance!”

Beldina pressed her lips together and nodded firmly, indicating that she was ready.

Dayne half-closed his eyes, lowered his head, and silently recited a spell. The Holy Crystal in his hand bloomed with a platinum-gold sacred radiance, illuminating the surroundings and bathing Beldina in its light.

The young Chosen One immediately felt the chains of platinum-gold runes coiled around her spirit essence begin to turn, expanding and contracting with the ebb and flow of the Holy Light. She pinpointed the right moment and guided a sliver of spirit essence out from the Realm of All Spirits.

Under Beldina’s gaze, black smoke materialized from thin air. It roiled and surged within the platinum-gold Holy Light, as if it would be dispersed by the radiance in the next instant.

Dayne quickly put away the Holy Crystal, causing the platinum-gold radiance to fade. Only then did the black smoke stop writhing and coalesce into a round, chubby little bear cub. It was only the size of an adult’s head. It first looked around, let out an “Awoo!” roar to warn everyone not to get close, and then grabbed a large piece of honey and began to lick it furiously.

Everyone stared, dumbfounded. Narsen muttered, “It’s so small?! What use will that be?”

“The ‘Sugar Jar’ I saw was as big as a house… It can change its size, right?” Swordsman Tao De said uncertainly.

Beldina was on the verge of tears again. “I… I only let out a tiny bit of spirit essence…” she stammered. “Sugar Jar barely managed to break free of the chains, and it got zapped on the head. Look at the top of its head, isn’t it injured?”

A thought struck Dayne. He cast the divine art of true sight and discovered a platinum-gold holy rune on “Sugar Jar’s” head. The priest was instantly relieved. Even if this little bear was an undead, it was a holy undead. No, it should be called a holy guardian spirit.

But how was such a small holy guardian spirit supposed to fight?

Just as everyone was worrying, Imosen’s voice came from the depths of the cave. “My dire bear just got stabbed in the ass… It’s starting! Dayne, Beldina, get over here and help me!”

Beldina didn’t have time to think. She gave “Sugar Jar” a hard kick and yelled in exasperation, “Stop eating! Go help Father Imosen! No, go help Master Victor!”

The semi-corporeal little guardian spirit was sent flying by the young shamaness’s kick. With an “awoo,” it turned back into a plume of black smoke, flew into the interior of the cave, and silently merged into Imosen’s back.

Randell Fief, Laketon, the small church on the cemetery grounds.

Pello, dressed in a hooded black robe, stood before the door of the small church. The heavy oak door was ajar and could be pushed open easily, but he made no move. He simply stood there quietly, his posture deeply respectful, even betraying a hint of zealous fervor.

As a sixth-level priest under the direct jurisdiction of the Holy See’s Curia, Bishop Pello could freely enter any church or monastery in the Centaur Hills Diocese. The House of Randell’s small cemetery church was, of course, no exception.

Although a liege lord’s family cemetery church was usually managed by a family priest, and Church priests would not typically intrude, the tacit understanding between the Church and the lords was no reason to forbid an Archbishop from inspecting a cemetery church. Besides, the new and rising House of Randell did not yet have a family priest of its own.

Randell Fief was developing rapidly, its permanent population having already surpassed four hundred thousand. The Church, naturally, would not overlook this newly rising pioneer fief. The Curia had dispatched a large number of personnel to the Randell Diocese. There were over one hundred official clergy members alone, with even more novice priests and novice Sacred Warriors serving as church attendants.

For the past two years, the resident priest of the Randell Diocese, Father Miller, had gradually faded from the public eye. He had moved to the small cemetery church in Laketon to live in seclusion. The clergy in Laketon all believed that Father Miller was old and frail, no longer fit to carry the responsibilities of being the resident priest of the Randell Diocese.

Bishop Pello had a hunch that Father Miller was planning something monumental, something beyond ordinary comprehension, and it was related to His Highness Randell.

Currently, the entire Gambis Kingdom was in a state of war mobilization, and all resources in the Centaur Hills Diocese were under strict control. Father Miller, who had not been seen for a long time, suddenly took a batch of holy power crystals. Bishop Pello received the report from his assistant priest at once. He disguised himself and hurried to the cemetery church, wanting to ask Father Miller just what was going on.

Pello knew it was impossible to hide from the informants of House of Randell. This matter, however, involved His Highness Randell. No matter what, he had to, on behalf of Pontiff Clement, make an appropriate gesture and show Lady Sylvia that the Gold-Eyed Earl’s expedition into the Endless Forest was not planned by the Holy See, but that Father Miller was still a clergyman of the Radiant Church.

Pello visited Father Miller alone, in a private capacity, only to be met with a closed door. The cemetery church’s main door was ajar and could be pushed open easily, yet Pello could not enter.

He had the thought of pushing the door, and he felt no tangible or intangible resistance, yet he was simply unable to perform the act of pushing. It was like seeing his attendant working up a sweat and having the thought to let him rest, but never putting that thought into action. It seemed contradictory, but it wasn’t discordant.

The Church’s secret archives recorded that the first Pope, Inoc, had a similar ability. It was called Verbal Interdiction, and it represented the highest realm of a Spirit Priest!

Pello never imagined he would one day experience a Spirit Priest’s Domain of the Word firsthand, and he deeply felt Father Miller’s power.

Miller forbid any disturbance, but Pello was unwilling to leave just like that. He had now given up the idea of seeking an audience with the Attendant of Radiance, but he remained where he was, carefully contemplating the mysteries of the Domain of the Word.

The viewing window on the oak door suddenly opened from the inside, revealing Father Miller’s eyes. Bishop Pello was startled. He quickly bowed slightly and asked with the utmost respect, “Honored Lord Attendant of Radiance, what are your instructions?”

From behind the oak door, Miller said flatly, “Lady Rose just became angry.”

“Ah?” Pello furrowed his brow in confusion.

“Meaning, I am not entirely confident in what I am about to do. If I fail, you had best make preparations to face Lady Rose’s wrath.” Miller closed the viewing window without another thought for the confused Pello and turned toward the church’s prayer altar.

On the floor before the prayer altar, more than a hundred holy power crystals shone brightly. Miller knelt in the center of the crystals, quietly awaiting the final moment.

The Great Divination was by no means an omniscient power. Miller did not know what kind of existence Victor’s true opponent was. However, he was skilled at hiding beneath the radiance of the Supreme Lord, concealing the traces of the Force of Destiny, and he had begun his preparations long ago.

Caligula was the person Miller had chosen in advance.

Almost no one knew that the highest divine art of the Sacred Warriors—the Radiant War God—was, in fact, the Radiant Angel. Sacred Warriors tempered their spirit and body, polishing their faith and soul until they could accommodate a Radiant Angel. Therefore, the highest divine art of the priests—Advent of an Angel—could also be used on a Sacred Warrior to guide the birth of a Radiant War God.

A seventh-level Sacred Warrior who had gathered the great power of a Radiant Angel within themselves possessed wisdom, combat skill, and judgment. Therefore, in most situations, a Radiant War God was more powerful than a Radiant Angel summoned by a Spirit Priest and could handle all kinds of complex situations. However, the Sacred Warrior had to pay a price, and the conditions for manifesting the Radiant War God were exceptionally demanding.

Caligula’s mind was pure and flawless. He had accepted the seed of holy power bestowed upon him by Miller and Ron the Master, making the birth of the Radiant War God possible.

Aka’s will and the seed of holy power were simultaneously stimulated by negative energy, which Miller perceived at once. This meant that Victor or Beldina was being threatened by a demon, and Caligula was preparing to protect them.

Aka’s will awakened the seed of holy power, and the seed, in turn, began to influence him, guiding him, enhancing his wisdom and strength, and altering the state of his soul and body, developing him in the direction of the Radiant War God.

An enemy that even the Raging Wind Sword Saint couldn’t handle was definitely no ordinary character!

From the bottom of his heart, Miller was unwilling to sacrifice Caligula, but the current situation allowed for no hesitation.

“Aka, this is the price you must pay for your rebirth. May our Lord bless you.”

The God-favored Miller’s face was calm as he sensed Aka approaching the root of evil. A platinum-gold radiance lit up the small space of the cemetery church. Holy runes emerged from the void, forming a profound and mysterious circular pattern.

Suddenly, another Holy Light beacon appeared inexplicably near Aka. Miller was stunned and confused, but he still decisively guided the divine power, channeling it over a vast distance and pouring it into the seed of holy power within Caligula.

“It has begun…”

Chapter 894: Rejuvenation

“Thud.” The Four-armed Ant-man fell to the forest floor, the light in its eyes solidifying into a dull gray. A moment later, a delicate war boot stomped its exquisite head into the soft humus.

“Weak little bug.” Fugerui flicked her long, algae-green hair. Her emerald eyes had transformed into the vertical pupils of a dragon, exuding terror and majesty.

The Four-armed Ant-man’s physical prowess was no less than that of a Dragonoid, and the white shell covering its body offered better protection than Fugerui’s smooth, firm skin. But in front of the Dragonkin handmaiden, whose fire of the mind had been ignited, its exquisite combat techniques looked flashy but were full of openings. The gap between them was like that between a strong farmer and an equally strong elite warrior. In a single exchange, Fugerui had snatched the four Adamantine spiked maces from the Ant-man’s hands and cleaved it in two with her crescent axe blade, as simple as splitting a piece of wood.

Daphdilier snorted coldly, walked past Fugerui, and said, “The King will only be at ease once we’ve killed the monster up ahead.”

Slaying a Four-armed Ant-man had indeed been easy, but the Dragonoids’ draconic perception warned them that the dense forest ahead was fraught with unpredictable danger, possibly beyond their ability to handle. Fugerui and Dili were undaunted, hefting their crescent axe blades and pressing forward. Behind the Dragonkin raiders, thirty fully armed Source-blood Militia emerged from the shadows of the great trees, their tall and sturdy figures revealed.

They were uniformly clad in Thorium Ant-man heavy plate armor, each carrying two confiscated Adamantine spiked maces. Five heavy, refined iron javelins were strapped to their backs, gleaming with a cold, blue light. Beneath their visors, their eyes were as frigid as ice and snow. They strode with firm steps over the Four-armed Ant-man’s mutilated corpse, carrying an unstoppable, murderous aura as they advanced toward their objective.

Parting a dense thicket of shrubs, Dili and Fugerui finally saw the “perfect body” their Master regarded as a natural enemy.

She was a colossal and beautiful spider, her body comparable in size to a mature split-hoof rhino. Every line tracing her form was so fluid and graceful that her massive frame, far from being bloated or clumsy, actually appeared light and nimble. Even her razor-sharp limbs and the spines on her carapace were as exquisite as works of art. Her immaculate white shell was covered in strange, circular purple patterns that formed a profound design. The shadow beneath her was as black as ink, as if connected to another world, making her exceptionally conspicuous even in the dimly lit forest.

The strangest thing was the upper half of a female elf’s body perched atop the spider’s head. It was a delicate and bewitching Dark Elf maiden, slender and well-proportioned, with long ears and brilliant purple hair that cascaded to her waist. At first glance, she looked as if she were merely riding on the giant spider’s head, but her eyes were tightly shut, seemingly lost in an eternal slumber.

Draconic perception alerted the Dragonoids to just how terrifying this monster was. Morphologically, however, the Spider Lady’s perfect body did not seem suited for combat. The upper body, so closely resembling a female Dark Elf, lacked a tough carapace for protection and couldn’t run or jump. It was an obvious weak point.

Both Fugerui and Dili believed they should make the Dark Elf maiden their primary target. If they could chop her off the giant spider’s head, they might be able to complete their raid.

This would certainly not be easy. A total of twelve Spider Handmaidens circled the spider-monster. They all turned their heads to face the attackers at the same time as the monster, their movements perfectly synchronized, creating an indescribable strangeness.

Although they were thirteen different individuals, they felt like a single entity.

As the spider-monster’s three pairs of compound eyes and the twelve pairs of eyes of the Spider Handmaidens stared over, the danger Dili and Fugerui felt instantly shot to its peak. If they were true Dragons, they would have turned and fled, but alchemical creatures never feared “death.”

“Crush these bugs!”

Dili raised her crescent axe blade and pointed it forward. The thirty Source-blood Militia immediately charged.

They were as nimble as leopards weaving through the dense forest, their momentum as fierce as that of vicious tigers, their steps as firm as enraged wild bison. Drawing their gleaming, refined iron javelins, they hurled them with all their might at the spider-monster’s enormous body.

The heavy javelins tore through the air, transforming into streaks of blue light. With piercing shrieks, they shot straight toward the spider-monster a hundred meters away.

With the strength and throwing skill of third-level Source-Blood Militia, the lethality of the refined iron javelins reached its most terrifying peak at a distance of about a hundred meters. They could pierce the body of a wild red bull, run a heavy infantryman clean through, and even embed themselves in a hard limestone wall.

However, the astonishingly powerful javelins were stopped by the psionic force field in front of the spider-monster, forcing the invisible psionic shield to materialize in the air. The sharp spearheads created translucent dents before clattering to the ground.

The surrounding Spider Handmaidens did not allow the third-level Source-Blood Militia to continue using their javelins to drain the spider-monster’s psionic energy. On one side, six Spider Handmaidens swiftly met the militia’s charge. They drifted rapidly forward like corporeal phantoms, yet the Adamantine spiked maces in their hands were anything but light. They smashed down towards the militiamen’s helmets, only to be parried in the nick of time by identical weapons. But a raw, brutal force erupted, and the militiaman suddenly seemed to shrink by half. His legs had been driven completely into the ground. With a gentle scissor-like motion from its other two arms, the Spider Handmaiden sent the militiaman’s head rolling from his neck as a torrent of hot blood spurted two feet into the air.

The Source-blood Militia Victor had entrusted to the Dragonkin handmaidens were not newly created Alchemical Humans. On their expedition into the Endless Forest, they had received special training from Narsen, learned the Combat Breathing Method, and participated in no fewer than a hundred instances of real combat, surviving brutal carnage. The learning talent of the Alchemical Humans had already transformed them into elite warriors among the third-level Source-Blood Militia.

It was no exaggeration to say that these third-level Source-blood Militia, equipped with Thorium Ant-man armor, could hold their own against an initial-rank Bronze Knight.

And yet, the Spider Handmaidens killed these elite militiamen as easily as playing whack-a-mole.

Fugerui lunged forward, her green hair stretched out straight in the air. The massive crescent axe blade drew a dazzling silver line, aiming to cleave the Spider Handmaiden in two.

The Dragonoid’s Lightning Reflexes were impossibly fast. The Spider Handmaiden had no time to parry or dodge. The crescent axe blade cut through its psionic shield and was about to land on its shoulder. But the Handmaiden seized the instant its shield delayed the attack to thrust its four Adamantine spiked maces at Fugerui.

It abandoned all defense and evasion, intending to perish together with the Dragonkin raider!

The Spider Handmaiden’s Thrust was fast and vicious, but the Dragonkin handmaiden’s Dynamic Vision saw it all clearly. Fugerui flicked her wrist, using her crescent axe blade to bat aside all of her opponent’s consecutive thrusts. The Spider Handmaiden actually used the momentum to create distance between them, using an evasive combat technique to flicker to Fugerui’s side. It had not only escaped the crisis of being cleaved in two but had also joined another Spider Handmaiden to form a pincer attack.

If the Spider Handmaidens’ strength and speed completely crushed the third-level Source-Blood Militia, then the combat techniques they now displayed were clearly born of an ignited fire of the mind. Furthermore, these Handmaidens didn’t use Dance of Death or Psionic Strike at all. Their footwork and combat techniques were all the most basic of fighting skills, and thus offered no openings for the Dragonkin raiders to exploit.

Dili was similarly entangled by two Spider Handmaidens, caught in a bitter fight. The spider-monster dispatched four more Spider Handmaidens to wantonly slaughter Victor’s elite Source-blood Militia.

Fugerui was thoroughly frustrated. These Spider Handmaidens were like a completely different species from the Four-armed Ant-men before. Their combat power was no less than that of the Dragonkin raiders in their human forms. If not for the two draconic talents, Dynamic Vision and Lightning Reflexes, Fugerui and Dili would likely have already been overwhelmed.

They didn’t know that in a realm invisible to the naked eye, the spider-monster was connected to the Spider Handmaidens by black threads. In effect, the spider-monster was controlling the Spider Handmaidens in battle.

This was one of the Spider Lady’s innate talents—Marionette Control.

The Ant-man Empress was suppressing the Spider Lady’s instinctive will, forcing Her into a deep slumber, but the Empress could not stop the spider-monster’s actions. In fact, if the spider-monster was strongly stimulated—for example, if its Marionette Control talent failed—the Spider Lady would still open Her eyes.

The spider-monster could actually control 36 Spider Handmaidens at once. These twelve Four-armed Ant-men were the minimum number of marionettes the Ant-man Empress had given it. If they all died, it would mean the Marionette Control talent had failed.

Therefore, the Ant-man Empress would replenish the number of Spider Handmaidens as needed. For Dili and Fugerui to defeat the spider-monster, they would first have to break through the interception of the marionettes and kill all the Spider Handmaidens—an almost impossible task.

As more and more Source-blood Militia were killed by the Spider Handmaidens, Dili and Fugerui became enraged. They activated their Dragon’s Rage talent, their strength and speed exploding. They swung their crescent axe blades into a silver sphere that crashed toward their respective opponents. Caught off guard, one of the spider-monster’s marionettes was instantly shattered into pieces by Dili. The other marionette was slightly luckier; Fugerui only managed to slice off its left shoulder and the two arms attached to it.

With one Spider Handmaiden dead and another heavily wounded, the spider-monster immediately sent its last two marionettes into the fray. It now had three Spider Handmaidens ganging up on each Dragonkin raider in their Dragon’s Rage state, while the remaining five continued to hunt down the Source-blood Militia.

At this moment, the spider-monster had no guards left by its side!

A series of heavy footsteps echoed from the forest behind Her. Great trees snapped and toppled as if a mountain were moving through the dense jungle.

It was a giant bear, six meters tall at the shoulder, its entire body covered in thick lizard hide. It charged with overwhelming momentum, its massive muscles rolling in layers, a sense of immense power almost radiating from its body. The gleaming white tusks protruding from either side of its mouth could easily shatter the trunks of ancient trees.

This was Imoson the Wizard’s Aberrant Dire Bear. After devouring all the Horned Lizard Aberrant Beasts, it had grown to its ultimate form. If the spider-monster was a split-hoof rhino, then this Aberrant Dire Bear was a wild elephant. Through Wisdom Guidance, Imoson the Wizard had ignited the dire bear’s fire of the mind and refined its Bloodline abilities, including the Dynamic Vision of the Aberrant Horned Lizards and the toxin-based stimulation of the Assyrians.

In both strength and size, the Aberrant Dire Bear could crush the spider-monster.

Dili and Fugerui’s team was responsible for the feint and for tying down the enemy. Imoson the Wizard’s Aberrant Dire Bear was the true trump card for dealing with the foe.

The dire bear’s charge was unstoppable, faster than a galloping horse, but there were others who entered the battlefield even faster.

Ten Source-blood Militia clad in composite leather armor leaped and bounded through the treetops like monkeys, using Thorium warbows to shoot volley after volley of conical armor-piercing arrows at the spider-monster.

The powerful arrows struck the psionic shield one after another, creating ripples across its surface. Although they failed to inflict any effective damage on the spider-monster, they were continuously draining Its psionic energy. When the Aberrant Dire Bear charged in, its terrifying weight and brute force would most likely shatter the spider-monster’s “shell.” At that point, killing the Spider Lady’s perfect body would be much easier.

Perhaps stimulated by the danger, the previously motionless spider-monster turned its body for the first time. It ignored the “monkeys” hopping about in the treetops, its three pairs of compound eyes fixing on the behemoth charging toward it. The twelve magic tattoos on Its carapace immediately glowed with a blinding light.

A sound like a thunderclap suddenly exploded in the air. A conical shockwave shot toward the rapidly approaching Aberrant Dire Bear. With a sharp “crack,” the Aberrant Dire Bear’s massive, ferocious head exploded. It didn’t even have time to grunt before its life was extinguished. Its mountain of flesh, carried by inertia, tumbled into the battlefield, coming to a powerless stop twenty meters from the spider-monster. Only then did the conical wave that had traversed the forest slowly dissipate.

The spider-monster’s second talent—Psionic Lance.

The Aberrant Dire Bear, which everyone had considered their trump card, was dead just like that?!

Alchemical creatures would never be startled in battle. Otherwise, they would have frozen on the spot and been easily bludgeoned to death by the spider-monster’s marionettes.

The light archers continued to shoot their armor-piercing arrows at their target relentlessly. The spider-monster seemed to find these “monkeys” annoying. It raised its head slightly, its three pairs of crimson compound eyes locking onto an archer. The Source-blood an was enveloped by an invisible force field, his body compressed and collapsed like a twisted rag. A large amount of blood gushed from his ruptured skin, mangling him beyond recognition.

The spider-monster’s third talent—Distorting Demon Eye.

Victor had a fairly deep understanding of the psionic energy of a high-ranking ant, which he compared to a cloak.

When the “cloak” was wrapped around a high-ranking ant, it boosted its strength and speed. If the cloak was pulled taut, it became a psionic shield, granting the high-ranking ant extra protection. A single “cloak’s” defensive strength was equivalent to a suit of heavy plate armor, but when a high-ranking ant tightened its cloak, it couldn’t protect its entire body—it could protect its head but not its tail, its left side but not its right, leaving defensive gaps.

Every magic tattoo on a high-ranking ant represented one “cloak.” The War Ant King, Apollis, had eight magic tattoos, meaning he possessed eight layers of psionic force fields and had absolutely no blind spots in his defense.

The spider-monster had a full 36 purple magic tattoos on its body, more than four times that of Apollis!

Victor had also noticed that once a high-ranking ant’s psionic force field was broken, there was a cooldown time. Furthermore, the psionic shield was least effective against piercing attacks. Thus, he had devised a tactic: Mewen would lead eight Alchemical Warhounds in guerilla warfare, tying down the Four-armed Ant-men on the periphery. Dili and Fugerui were mainly responsible for the feint, clearing out the Spider Handmaidens around the spider-monster while expending its psionic energy with javelins. The Aberrant Dire Bear controlled by Imoson the Wizard and the ten elite archers were the main force of the raid.

The Aberrant Dire Bear, in coordination with the ten archers, was fully capable of breaking the spider-monster’s psionic shield. Then the Dragonkin handmaidens would transform into their Dragon-form and kill the Spider Lady’s perfect body in one fell swoop.

But who could have imagined that the spider-monster’s use of psionic energy was so masterful? And It was incredibly decisive, expending twelve layers of its psionic force field to coalesce a terrifying Psionic Lance, killing the Aberrant Dire Bear—the greatest threat to It—in a single blow. Then, it used its Distorting Demon Eye to project its psionic energy eighty meters away to obliterate the light archers.

Even though the third-level Source-Blood Militia were faster than monkeys, they could not escape the pursuit of the spider-monster’s gaze. The spider-monster wrapped them in its psionic force field and crushed them one by one, twisting them like rags. Once it had killed all the light archers, it would be the turn of the heavy javelin throwers and the Dragonkin raiders.

Sixteen of the magic tattoos on the spider-monster’s body had grown dim, but the other twenty remained bright, and It still had eleven Spider Handmaidens at its command.

The raid Victor had planned seemed to have utterly failed.

The wind rustled the leaves with a strange rhythm. The long, mournful roar of a sabertooth tiger echoed from the distant forest. The spider-monster inexplicably turned its head to look, but a massive figure suddenly rose up behind It.

It was the Aberrant Dire Bear that had already died. The hole in its head and the center of its body were filled with black smoke, which coalesced into a bear’s head, two pale flames leaping in its eye sockets. It raised its neck and let out an earth-shattering roar. The sound waves vibrated the air, creating concentric ripples. Its massive bear paw swung down like an axe, smashing into the spider-monster’s back.

All the magic tattoos on the spider-monster’s body lit up with a dazzling glow. Twenty psionic shields layered themselves one on top of the other to protect its back, but the dire bear’s giant paw still broke through them all. The spider-monster used the impact to slide forward several dozen meters, avoiding the fate of having its back torn open. However, only five of its magic tattoos remained bright.

At the same time, the dire bear’s roar pierced the battlefield. The bodies of the eleven Spider Handmaidens went rigid for a moment, while the Dragonoids and alchemical creatures felt their spirits rise, their strength and speed significantly boosted.

Dili and Fugerui transformed into their 3.4-meter-tall Dragon-forms without hesitation, activating Dragon’s Rage again as an Aura of Fear instantly radiated outwards. They brandished their notched crescent axe blades and breathed out bone-chilling dragon’s breath, killing all eleven Spider Handmaidens in an instant.

Sugar Jar, the Guardian Spirit of the Bear-monster Elder, a Legendary-rank Undead Creature, had turned the tide of battle the moment it appeared.

However, the Dark Elf maiden on the spider-monster’s head had already opened her eyes, which were as dark as the night sky. A look of disgust appeared on Her exquisitely beautiful face. She frowned slightly and murmured to Herself in ancient Elvish, “Jungle Stealth… War Roar… To think I’d encounter a Son of Ursoloc the moment I return to this world. Hmm, it’s actually a dead spirit? Don’t tell me the King of the Jungle hasn’t perished completely?”

Chapter 895: The Spider Lady’s Sigh

The Dark Elf maiden had no pupils. The pure, deep black of her eyes was like a window into the void, yet she had truly opened them.

What in the world did this mean?

The Ant-man Empress had been suppressing the perfect body’s instinctive will. Since the spider-creature’s Dark Elf body had awakened from its slumber and even spoken, what had happened to the Ant-man Empress? Had She been devoured by the perfect body, or had She merged with its instinctive will? The perfect body had spoken. What had it said? Could it be negotiated with?

These questions were clearly critical to the changing situation, but the alchemical creatures would not stop to ponder them. The Dragonkin handmaidens were “intelligent” for alchemical creatures, yet they still lacked creative thinking and the ability to make their own judgments.

To put it bluntly, a lack of wisdom was a common failing of alchemical creatures, and the powerful Dragonkin handmaidens were no exception.

Dili and Fugerui were focused on the task their Master had given them: to kill the “perfect body” before them. They considered nothing else.

The Spider Lady’s thirty-six layers of psionic force fields had been breached, with thirty-one destroyed, and all twelve of her marionettes were annihilated. On the alchemical creatures’ side, however, the Dragonkin raiders were in perfect condition, eighteen elite Source-blood militia were still combat-ready, and there was a formidable-looking undead “Dire Bear”.

The balance of power had reversed. Now was the perfect time to kill the Spider Lady!

The Dragonkin handmaidens shared a telepathic link. While calling for Mewen, Dili and Fugerui ordered the surviving Source-blood militia to attack the “perfect body.”

“Kill it!”

Without the slightest hesitation, the two three-meter-tall female Dragonkin simultaneously hurled their crescent axe blades at the spider-creature not far away.

The crescent axe blades were forged entirely from refined iron, nearly two meters long, and weighed over two hundred pounds. An ordinary person would have struggled just to lift one, yet the Dragonkin handmaidens could wield these heavy weapons, specially designed to counter massive creatures, with ease. Even though the crescent axe blades were already riddled with nicks and scratches from clashing with the Adamantine spiked maces, their exaggerated size and immense weight meant they could still inflict horrific wounds.

The two crescent axe blades transformed into two high-speed wheels of blue light, trailing turbulent air wakes as they flew toward the perfect body in an instant, striking heavily against its psionic shield.

The Dragonkin raiders possessed both strength and speed, as well as abundant stamina. Dili and Fugerui had transformed into their Dragon-form, activated their Dragon’s Rage talent, and received the Bear-monster Elder’s War Roar, granting them an additional thirty-five percent increase in strength and speed. The killing power of the crescent axe blades they threw with all their might was terrifying to imagine. Even if the perfect body’s psionic shield was tougher than heavy plate armor, it absolutely could not block the swift chop of the crescent axe blades.

Unfortunately, the one now in control of the perfect body was not the spider-creature, but the dark-eyed Dark Elf maiden—or rather, the Spider Lady’s Incarnation. Her use of psionic energy was clearly more refined than the spider-creature’s. The psionic shield solidified in the air, taking on the form of a multifaceted crystal that flowed like water. The spinning crescent axe blades struck it and simply slid off, failing to break even a single layer of the psionic shield.

The Dark Elf maiden raised a slender, delicate hand to cover her small mouth, letting out a lazy and enchanting yawn. She softly uttered a simple syllable:

“Death.”

The Dragonkins’ minds felt as if they’d been struck a heavy blow, and their vision suddenly went dark. They immediately focused their spirits, successfully shaking off the negative mental state and regaining their sight, only to find the eighteen elite Source-blood militia behind them had all fallen to the ground, their lives extinguished, now just corpses without heartbeats or breath.

The bizarre deaths of their allies could not shake the Dragonkins’ will. Fugerui and Dili continued their mad dash, closing to within forty meters of the perfect body in the blink of an eye. They opened their gaping maws filled with sharp teeth and unleashed a cone of bone-chilling dragon’s breath at the Spider Lady.

The surging Green Dragon’s Breath instantly engulfed the perfect body’s massive form. The frozen air condensed on the surface of the psionic shield, forming a thick layer of ghastly green ice.

The Green Dragon’s Breath not only possessed a cold that could freeze all things, but it was also laced with a terrifying extraordinary poison that could corrode psionic shields. It could also transmit the chill and toxicity deep into the enemy’s mind, causing continuous mental damage. If the perfect body’s willpower was insufficient to resist the mental damage of the Green Dragon’s Breath, She would be frozen and poisoned from the inside out. Not even five layers of psionic shields could protect Her.

Red dragons are berserk, yellow dragons are tough, blue dragons are ruthless, and green dragons are insidious.

The nature of the dragon’s breath spat by Dili and Fugerui was insidious and venomous, adept at infiltration. Their personalities were also exceptionally cunning. The two she-dragons constantly switched positions, relentlessly blasting one side of the perfect body with their breath. They even sealed the ground beneath Her with poisonous frost, reducing Her movement speed and restricting Her range of motion.

The perfect body was forced to use its remaining five psionic force fields in rotation to defend against the highly corrosive, icy dragon’s breath. This left an opening on its other side.

Just then, a blazing blue ball of lightning shot out from the depths of the forest, striking the perfect body with pinpoint accuracy. It pierced through Her body, and fine arcs of electricity spread across Her carapace, carrying the scent of burnt fat and muscle.

Intense pain made the Dark Elf maiden crane her long, elegant neck and let out a wail that was both a sob and a lament.

Mewen, the Dragonkin Ripper, had arrived just in time. She changed into her Dragon-form, seized the opportunity her allies had created for her, and severely wounded the enemy with a blast of lightning breath.

Among the four types of Dragonkin, Mewen possessed the greatest speed and the strongest single-target attack power. Her lightning breath was so fast that enemies couldn’t dodge it, but her Ripper’s Claws, which manifested the void wind element, were her most lethal means of attack. In fact, Mewen’s Ripper’s Claws operated on the same principle as Victor’s “Soul Rend” spear: channeling the incomparably sharp void wind element into the enemy’s body to directly destroy their fragile internal organs.

The relatively slender Ripper Dragonkin charged at high speed, spitting out another blast of lightning breath that exploded into fine arcs of electricity on the perfect body’s shell. This would paralyze the target, and next, Mewen would use her ethereal blue claws to completely tear the enemy before her to shreds.

However, the perfect body’s physique was unbelievably tough. After withstanding two blasts of lightning breath from Mewen, She seemed to have adapted to the lightning damage. She raised two pairs of sharp limbs, preparing to counter the rapidly approaching Mewen.

The Dragonkin Ripper had the strongest attack power, but the weakest defense. With the perfect body overcoming the paralyzing effect of the lightning breath, Mewen needed cover from her allies.

The Dragonkin raiders’ defense was second only to the Dragonkin Protectors of the Yellow Dragon bloodline, but the raiders’ resilience and regenerative abilities were the best among the four dragon bloodlines. Therefore, Dili and Fugerui were not only skilled at skirmishing but could also serve as the main attackers.

The two graceful she-dragons pounced simultaneously, raising their front claws to forcibly shatter the frost-covered psionic shield. They began a frenzied assault, tearing and biting at the perfect body. Dili even ignored one of her arms being severed by the perfect body’s limb, piercing the spider-creature’s carapace with her fangs and desperately injecting corrosive venom into it. At this moment, Mewen also joined the fray. Her ethereal blue claws ripped the Dark Elf maiden straight off the spider-creature’s head. The sharp wind element ravaged the spider-creature’s insides, attempting to sever its massive head as well.

The three Dragonkin handmaidens were completely unaware that if this spider-creature had been a true living being, they would have long since killed it.

An ink-black shadow covered the entire patch of forest. At the shadow’s source, the Spider Lady was watching the brutal fight between the three Dragon Beasts and the undead Bear-monster.

Before Dili and Fugerui had even launched their attack, She had cast a series of Sorceries: Mind Blast, Death’s Rebuke, and Sensory Delusion.

These were common Sorceries that even mid-rank Dark Elf shamans could use, but when cast by the Spider Lady herself, they produced a miraculous effect.

Mind Blast first pried open a crack in the alchemical creatures’ minds, followed by Death’s Rebuke. The Source-blood militia failed their willpower save, accepted that they were already dead, and their Soul Fire returned to the Alchemy Tower. The Dragonkin managed to save against Death’s Rebuke, but the subsequent Sensory Delusion caused them to enter a hallucinatory state without realizing it. They mistook the Aberrant Dire Bear for the Spider Lady’s perfect body and subjected it to a savage beating.

The Aberrant Dire Bear possessed by “Sugar Jar” was actually an undead creature and was immune to the Spider Lady’s combination of Sorceries. However, being ground into the dust by three powerful Dragonkin, it had no way to attack the Spider Lady and instead began to counter-attack the Dragonkin.

A smile played on the Spider Lady’s lips as she tilted her head, watching the four monsters kill each other. Her own consciousness, however, had sunk into the Ant-man race’s psionic network.

The Lady had only just descended when She discovered this Incarnation was incomplete and could not bear Her will for long. If she didn’t take remedial measures, this Incarnation would collapse in thirty days.

With a problem in the Incarnation’s lifespan, the Spider Lady naturally couldn’t use overly powerful Sorceries, as that would certainly hasten the spider-Incarnation’s demise. Thus, She only used low-to-mid-rank Sorceries to deal with these strange attackers.

Although the three Dragon Beasts were formidable, they had fallen into a Sorcery trap and were in a state of confusion. The Spider Lady could kill them without expending much power. However, the undead Son of Ursoloc was indeed a minor nuisance.

The Spider Lady could tell that the undead Dire Bear’s original body was a demonized bear-form creature. It was already dead, but its complex and chaotic Bloodline was still brimming with vitality. The Bear-monster Elder’s soul happened to be a perfect match for the demonized dire bear’s Bloodline Law. It now not only possessed the undead trait of having no weak points but could also use the King of the Jungle’s talents. Even as it was being torn to a bloody pulp by the three Dragon Beasts, the Barkskin and Rejuvenation it cast were still trying their best to mend its tattered body.

To eliminate this Legendary-rank Undead Creature, one would either have to directly extract its soul or wait for the demonized dire bear’s life force to be exhausted and then crush it into a pile of sludge.

The Spider Lady was unwilling to act personally to extract the Bear-monster Elder’s soul. In any case, with three Dragon Beasts tearing at it, the undead Dire Bear wouldn’t last much longer. In comparison, finding the spider-Incarnation’s original host was more important to the Spider Lady. As long as She devoured the original host’s spirit body, the Spider Lady could figure out the identities and origins of these attackers.

However, this psionic network was not one the Spider Lady had built herself. It would still take some time to search through the network’s various branches to find the original host.

Suddenly, the rustling sound of footsteps echoed from the forest, growing clearer and clearer. The footsteps seemed to tread upon the Spider Lady’s very mind, their sound impossible to conceal even by the roars and bellows of the four battling monsters.

The Spider Lady immediately cut short her search of the Ant-man psionic network and turned to look in the direction of the footsteps. She saw a tall, burly human warrior with simple features emerge from the dense jungle. He held a long-handled warhammer, and his eyes shone with a platinum-gold light that radiated divine power. He stood quietly at the edge of the dark domain, meeting Her gaze.

For the first time, the Dark Elf maiden wore a cautious expression. Her beautiful brows furrowed slightly as she murmured to herself in confusion, “An ancient primordial being? Or a being from the Celestial Realm… Many interesting things have happened in this era.”

Caligula slowly exhaled, raising the long-handled warhammer in his hand. A soft Holy Light bloomed, coating the warhammer in a layer of platinum-gold.

The platinum-gold Divine Light illuminated the Spider Lady’s dark domain. The three Dragonkin handmaidens finally broke free from the influence of the deluding sorcery and awoke from their hallucination. Only then did they realize that the once-imperious Aberrant Dire Bear had been beaten by them into a bloody pile of mangled flesh. Even so, it wasn’t “dead” yet; countless fleshy tendrils writhed at its wounds, though they seemed listless. Meanwhile, the spider-creature on the other side was not only unharmed, but the thirty-six magic tattoos on its body had all regained their glow.

If “Sugar Jar” had an independent mind, it would surely hate the three stupid handmaidens to its very bones.

The Dragonkin handmaidens would not be discouraged by injuring an ally. Three pairs of sharp, vertical pupils stared viciously at the Spider Lady, then turned to Caligula. Dili was the first to shout, “Aka, you idiot, did you come here to die?”

Aka turned a deaf ear to Dili’s scolding. Platinum-gold runes materialized in the void beside him, activating the Sacred Armor Art, Sacred Sword Art, Heroism Art…

Fugerui roared, “You fool, you’ll die! Run, now!”

The platinum-gold runes formed a profound, ring-like pattern. In the unseen world, a great and divine power traversed the void and infused Caligula’s soul. The faint outline of angel wings appeared on his back.

“Caligula, the Ant-man Empress is leading dozens of Four-armed Ant-men to hunt down My King! I sent eight Warhounds to support him, but it’s not enough! My King is in danger! We sisters will hold this monster off! You have to go save My King! Go, quick!” Mewen shouted anxiously.

She was originally responsible for tying down the Four-armed Ant-men on the battlefield’s perimeter and then waiting for an opportunity to use her superior speed to join the siege on the perfect body. But after the Dark Elf maiden opened her eyes, all the Four-armed Ant-men on the perimeter had run off to hunt down Victor. The three Dragonkin handmaidens knew their Master was in grave danger, but the mission they had received was to assassinate the perfect body and protect Caligula’s retreat. It did not include reinforcing Victor!

The Dragonkin handmaidens could not defy Victor’s will. They could only pin their hopes of saving Victor on Caligula.

Aka was deeply conflicted. He could, of course, perceive that Victor was being besieged by the Four-armed Ant-men and was in a precarious situation. However, his instincts told him that the Spider Lady was the source of the danger. Only by killing this ancient demon’s Incarnation could the threat to Victor be truly lifted. The problem was, Victor had sent his subordinates to attack the Spider Lady’s perfect body, and in turn, the Ant-man Empress was leading dozens of Four-armed Ant-men to hunt down the isolated Victor.

If he stayed to fight the demon sovereign’s Incarnation, Aka foresaw his own sacrifice, and Victor would soon perish at the hands of the Ant-man Empress. If he turned back now to aid his Master, he would likely never get another chance to destroy the Spider Lady’s Incarnation and expel Her will. Victor would still be under the threat of the demon’s Incarnation.

One outcome was his Master losing his life immediately; the other was his Master facing the Spider Lady’s Incarnation in the future.

Concern for Victor finally overwhelmed his inexplicable loathing for the demon sovereign. Aka stomped his foot, let out a great roar, and turned to run.

The platinum-gold runes left behind by Caligula clearly faltered for a moment, as if frustrated and resentful.

Seeing the divine power, filled with positive energy, about to lose its anchor and dissipate, the Spider Lady couldn’t help but reveal a sweet smile. However, the platinum-gold runes then decisively moved toward the “dying” undead Dire Bear. Immediately after, a brilliant pillar of divine light descended from the heavens and landed on the bear.

In the pillar of light, the Aberrant Beast’s flesh and blood rapidly melted away. The little bear cub made of black smoke that was “Sugar Jar” was replaced by platinum-gold Holy Light, and it grew at a visible rate into a majestic Great Bear Spirit, filled with divine power.

“Alas…”

The Spider Lady let out a low sigh, her soft voice like moonlight rippling through the forest. The pitch-black shadow at Her feet rose from the ground, transforming into a colossal dark spider that pounced toward the three Dragon Beasts and the Great Bear Spirit opposite it.

Chapter 896: Human Cunning

In the Black Forest, Victor, sword in hand, leaped like a phantom through the densely branched treetops. He had long since cast aside his finely crafted Thorium composite leather armor, wearing only a pair of short breeches that reached his knees. This exposed his sleek, well-proportioned body, allowing every pore to breathe freely. Because of this, his Raging Tide Breathing Method had surged to its absolute peak.

With the Raging Tide Combat Technique stacked to its limit of fifteen layers, Victor felt a sense of utter clarity, as if he had become one with his surroundings. Every fiber of his muscles could erupt with boundless power. Even without using the High Elves’ Wind Walk talent, he was as swift as a gale.

However, on the ground beneath the canopy, dozens of Four-armed Ant-men ran even faster than Victor. They first gave chase from below, then fanned out in all directions to form an encirclement. Leaping onto the tall, thick ancient trees, they closed in on Victor among the branches.

A slender Four-armed Ant-man kicked off a tree trunk, launching itself like a crossbow bolt at Victor, who had just landed on a branch. The Adamantine spiked mace, propelled by its terrifying strength, became a violet arc of light. Accompanied by a thunderous crackle as it tore through the air, it swung horizontally at Victor’s head.

Victor hooked his left foot around the branch and somersaulted forward, narrowly dodging the vicious blow of the Adamantine mace. He then kicked off the same branch, using the momentum to plummet straight down, head-first.

The Four-armed Ant-man’s attack met only air, its motion naturally halting. It landed on the branch, ready to leap down and continue its pursuit of Victor, only to hear a sharp crack. The branch, which Victor had already fractured, could not bear the Ant-man’s weight and snapped clean off.

Losing its balance, the Four-armed Ant-man fell with the broken branch. As it tried to right itself in mid-air, a cold, sharp glint of a sword blade struck from the side.

Victor pressed one hand against the tree trunk, arresting his fall. He twisted his body, clinging to the trunk as he swung his sharp runic longsword at the Four-armed Ant-man, which had no leverage. It was a fierce slash. A surging, tide-like force propelled the longsword, cutting through the Ant-man’s psionic shield with the ease of splitting bamboo. The blade swept through the creature’s elegant neck without any resistance.

As the decapitated Four-armed Ant-man crashed to the ground, Victor had already climbed back to the treetops from the middle of the trunk. He took the initiative, moving to meet another descending Ant-man. As they passed each other in a flash, the momentum of his sword was like a torrent of rushing water, its blade imbued with an unstoppable force. It shattered the Ant-man’s psionic shield, and the bright blade darted in and out, piercing the creature’s chest carapace and leaving only a tiny wound.

The moment this Four-armed Ant-man exerted its strength, the small wound instantly burst open into a ghastly gash, tearing through its sinews and completely ruining its movements.

Victor was now adept at using the Fissure Cut secret technique he’d learned from General Moonsong of Silverhawk City. He stomped on the Ant-man’s head, using the force to leap up into the dense canopy, and in the same motion, pulped the creature’s brain.

By killing two Four-armed Ant-men in quick succession, Victor broke through their encirclement and soared away from the high canopy. The other Ant-men had either already landed on the ground or slid to the middle of the tree trunks. They had no choice but to jump down, reform their ranks on the floor of the Black Forest, and resume their chase of Victor, who was about to disappear into the foliage.

A Spirit attribute of nearly fifty points was enough to sustain “Apocalypse” for a considerable time. In the X-3’s “Apocalypse” state, Victor could rapidly and accurately process internal and external information, including the flow of the air, the various signals carried by sound, the memory of changes in his surroundings, the precise distribution of power to every muscle, and the circulation of his inner potential through his breathing frequency.

“Apocalypse” commanded his body and mind, pushing his wisdom and strength to their absolute limits. Even though the Four-armed Ant-men surpassed him in strength and speed and held an overwhelming numerical advantage, they had consistently failed to corner and kill him.

Of course, if they managed to wound him, even just once, this chase that had stretched over hundreds of kilometers might come to an end.

Victor was currently like a precision machine operating at peak efficiency. From his mind to his Bloodline talent, from his inner potential to external forces, from his breathing method to the Raging Tide Combat Technique—everything formed a unified whole, operating at its extreme limit. A problem in any single area would lead to catastrophic consequences.

Therefore, Victor could not afford to make a single mistake, whereas the Four-armed Ant-men, despite making several, still possessed overwhelming power.

Fortunately, Victor had a wealth of knowledge. Through Groth Broodmother Ann, he had gained a deep understanding of the characteristics of the high-ranking ants, allowing him to adopt targeted tactics.

The Four-armed Ant-men’s psionic shields required the reactive force from the ground to achieve high-speed movement and mid-air directional changes. Their speed on the ground far surpassed that of Victor, who couldn’t use his Wind Walk talent. However, the deep fire of the mind made Victor’s mobility in the trees nearly identical to his mobility on the ground. Once the Four-armed Ant-men climbed the trees, they lost their ability to hover and change direction, and their movement speed slowed considerably.

On the ground, Victor would be besieged by the Ant-men. But in the trees, he not only had the four cardinal directions to maneuver in, but also various heights to weave through.

By fully exploiting the unique environment of the forest, Victor was always able to create one-on-one combat situations. He had the dozens of Four-armed Ant-men running in circles, completely unable to touch him.

However, Victor had been forced to cast off his armor, unleash his full potential, and exhaust every means at his disposal. His current situation, while seemingly managed with ease, was in reality a walk on a tightrope; the slightest misstep would see him shattered to pieces.

A total of forty-six Four-armed Ant-men were hunting Victor, a number that already exceeded his ability to handle. What’s more, among them was an Ant-man Empress.

In the gap as Victor leaped from one great tree to another, an invisible force wrapped tightly around him like a tough rhinoceros-hide cloak. But a psionic force field of this level was not enough to crush him. The Raging Tide Combat Technique instantly unleashed a five-layered burst of force, shattering the field. Victor then plummeted toward the ground like a forest falcon with a broken wing. Below, dozens of Four-armed Ant-men were watching him with predatory eyes.

Victor adjusted his posture in mid-air. An amber-colored halo appeared around his dark eyes. With a fierce roar, he raised his runic longsword and brought it down in a heavy slash.

The three Four-armed Ant-men closest to Victor suddenly felt a pressure as heavy as a mountain peak, and they instinctively raised both layers of their psionic shields above their heads.

Victor landed in the middle of this group of a Ant-men. His runic longsword drew a perfect circular arc of light. The sword’s watery gleam swept across the chests of these Ant-men. Tiny wounds burst open and expanded, turning into terrifying gashes.

Combining the Poltanos Secret Art with the Raging Tide Combat Technique and Fissure Cut, Victor used every trick he had to heavily wound three enemies in one fell swoop. Without a moment’s hesitation, before the other Ant-men could surround him, he leaped onto a nearby tree and continued this dangerous game of cat and mouse.

The Ant-man Empress did not show herself. She always hid at a distance, launching surprise attacks on Victor with her long-range abilities.

Unlike ordinary Four-armed Ant-men, the vessel the Ant-man Empress had descended into had twelve glowing magic tattoos, signifying she possessed a twelve-layered psionic force field. Her Saint-realm-level Spirit attribute had also ignited the vessel’s fire of the mind. She only needed to use six layers of her psionic force field to reinforce herself, and she could crush the current Victor in terms of both strength and speed.

If she were to pursue him personally and engage him in close combat, even if Victor fully utilized the spatial advantages of the Black Forest, he would have absolutely no chance of escaping her grasp. However, the Ant-man Empress seemed extremely wary of Victor’s Void Walk. That was why she stayed back, constantly using her psionic force field to create trouble for him.

At the moment, Victor couldn’t afford to be distracted or check on the actual situation of his Dragonkin handmaiden and the Spider Lady. But the Ant-man Empress’s appearance revealed at least two important pieces of information.

First, the Spider Lady had reawakened. The Ant-man Empress could no longer suppress the instinctive will of the perfect body, which was why She had主动 taken the initiative to descend into one of the Four-armed Ant-men.

Second, the Ant-man Empress could originally descend into any vessel she chose. But with the reawakening of the Spider Lady’s will, the Empress had lost the crucial springboard she needed for descension—the Spider Lady’s perfect body. This meant that She was trapped in her current vessel, with no way to return.

To put it simply, Spirit-Devouring Island was the soul of the perfect body. The Ant-man Empress had now fled Spirit-Devouring Island, abandoning the vast majority of her power to forcibly merge with the shell of a Four-armed Ant-man and hunt Victor down. If She died now, She would truly be dead. That was why She was afraid of being killed instantly by Void Walk and remained hidden in the rear, using her psionic power to interfere with Victor and create opportunities for the other Four-armed Ant-men to kill him.

Of course, there was nothing he could exploit from this information. If it were a one-on-one fight, Victor might have a sliver of hope of killing the Ant-man Empress. But with a pack of Four-armed Ant-men as her claws, Victor had no path to survival other than to flee for his life.

In truth, even escaping was highly unlikely. The Ant-man Empress commanded her pack to pursue him relentlessly. Over time, Victor was bound to tire and would inevitably make a mistake.

Just like the interference from before, Victor’s forced breakout had disrupted his breathing cycle. The fifteen-layer Raging Tide Combat Technique immediately destabilized his internal energy, causing his blood to surge. Fortunately, the water element suffusing his body helped cool his internal organs. Anyone else would have been severely injured and coughing up blood.

The fifteen-layer Raging Tide Combat Technique was incredibly powerful, but it was also far beyond what a mortal body could endure.

The environment of the Black Forest seemed advantageous to Victor, but he was in fact trapped in a desperate situation. Yet, Victor’s will was as firm as bedrock, and he continued to search desperately for a chance to survive.

Changes in the air’s humidity tipped Victor off to the location of a river in the forest. He would break out to the left, then charge to the right, but his overall trajectory was a constant approach towards the river.

It looked as though Victor was being forced by the Four-armed Ant-men into the sparse woods at the edge of the Black Forest. His speed leaping through the treetops inevitably slowed, and he finally had no choice but to leap onto the tallest fir tree. The Ant-man Empress and her claws were completely unaware that this was actually a ploy by His Highness Randell. They clambered up the surrounding trees, preemptively occupying any potential landing spots Victor might use, while ten Four-armed Ant-men chased him up that same tall fir.

This ancient fir had been growing in the forest for who knows how many years. Its crown was over ninety meters from the ground, and standing at its very top, Victor looked like a tiny speck. His long, sturdy legs bent into a deep crouch. The straight, pliant, and elastic trunk of the tree bent to one side. When it reached its limit, it whipped back in the opposite direction, launching Victor high into the air. Like a stone from a slingshot, he flew over the heads of the Four-armed Ant-men. He soared high and far, tracing an arc through the air, before landing in the river next to the Black Forest with a small splash.

This north-south river in the forest was a tributary of the Goldwater River. Its surface was wide, measuring nearly seven hundred meters from the west bank to the east. Countless rotten trees and dead branches bobbed in the murky, surging waves. This was a characteristic of forest rivers; numerous amphibious beasts had a habit of building nests by the river, and the broken trees and logs they dragged over were easily swept away by the rushing water, resulting in floating timber of all sizes being a common sight on the river’s surface.

By the time the Ant-man Empress and her four-armed claws reached the riverbank, they saw Victor emerging from the waves in the center of the river. He leaped onto a thick, rotten tree root, turned to meet the Ant-man Empress’s gaze with a slight smile, then spun around and jumped away. His toes tapped continuously on the branches and driftwood on the river’s surface, and like a swift gliding over the water, he bounded towards the eastern bank.

“Chase him to the other side. Follow him.”

The Ant-man Empress issued the order to her claws via a telepathic message.

Half of the Four-armed Ant-men immediately leaped into the turbulent river. They tried to imitate Victor, attempting to use the driftwood as footholds to chase him as he skimmed across the water. However, most of the driftwood was just slender branches. The Four-armed Ant-men had not ignited the fire of the mind, and after a few leaps, they still fell into the water. Nevertheless, they used their psionic shields to forcefully push aside the resistance of the water. Their speed swimming across was very fast, but compared to Victor, it was sluggish.

This small difference in speed allowed Victor to re-establish his advantage in the exchange of time and space.

By the time the Four-armed Ant-men swam across the river, Victor had already run some distance downstream along the east bank. Just as the Ant-men who reached the east bank were about to catch him, he jumped back into the river, using the various pieces of driftwood to evade his pursuers. This pestering repeated over and over, and the Four-armed Ant-men couldn’t even touch his shadow.

The Ant-man Empress understood this, which was why she only ordered half her claws to swim to the east bank, while the other half remained on the west bank. The Ant-men on both banks followed Victor, taking turns sending their allies into the water to chase him, preventing him from resting on the driftwood and simultaneously clearing out the larger pieces he could stand on, attempting to continuously wear down his stamina and shrink his range of movement on the river.

“Don’t waste your energy.” Victor stepped off a piece of driftwood into the river. The water only submerged his ankles. He looked as if he were walking on water as he spoke to the Ant-man Empress on the opposite bank. “This is the downstream section of the forest river. The river will only get wider, and the water deeper. There’s so much driftwood in the water you’ll never be able to clear it all. When this river merges with the Goldwater River downstream, do you really think you and your claws can kill me? Your Majesty the Empress, perhaps we should talk now.”

The Ant-man Empress’s ruby-like eyes reflected the image of Victor trampling the waves. Her tone was flat as she asked, “Do you have a magic item for walking on water?”

“No.” Victor lifted his foot and stepped back onto the driftwood, raising his voice. “This is a water-walking technique. Anyone who has ignited the fire of the mind can do it. We can even run barefoot across the river’s surface, though it’s quite draining. Of course, I’m certainly more agile underwater than your Four-armed Ant-men. If you send them underwater to cause trouble for me, not only will it be useless, but you’ll also be needlessly sacrificing your few remaining retainers.”

He paused, then said with a smile, “Actually, Your Majesty, you shouldn’t have abandoned Ann. Through her, I learned a great deal about the Ant-man race. For example, I know that the psionic force field relies on solid ground to allow a high-ranking ant to briefly hover. At greater heights far from the ground, the hovering property of the psionic field disappears. Furthermore, flowing water is also unable to support the psionic field of a high-ranking ant. By choosing the forest canopy and this river as my battlefields, I can negate the mobility advantage of the Four-armed Ant-men.”

The Ant-man Empress said faintly, “Your Highness Randell, you are very clever.”

“Your Majesty’s praise is far too perfunctory.” Victor laughed heartily, deliberately turning his back to the east, allowing more Four-armed Ant-men on the east bank to slip into the water. He continued, “The Four-armed Ant-men can barely be considered Tier 6 creatures, but they haven’t ignited the fire of the mind. Their combat effectiveness under and on the water is drastically reduced. It’s impossible for me to lose to them. Your Majesty forcibly ignited the fire of the mind in your vessel. If you personally entered the water to capture me, your chances of success would be high. However…”

Victor’s tone shifted, his gaze growing profound as he spoke decisively, “I’ll wager that Your Majesty lacks a warrior’s courage and decisiveness. You would never dare to face me alone!”

The Ant-man Empress replied dismissively, “I was never a crude warrior to begin with. I was formerly an Archmage of the Alchemical Empire. Until all my followers are dead, I have no need to engage an enemy in close combat myself… Your Highness Randell, you are overconfident. Do you really think you alone can escape from my grasp now?”

Victor nodded slightly, leaning on his runic longsword. He sneered, “Alright, I was lying about the wager. My judgment of you is based on a simple fact… All intelligent life possesses a divine nature, a bestial nature, and a human nature. Divine nature is elemental and existential; bestial nature is instinctual; humanity is wisdom. When we cut our hand, we feel pain, because by remembering pain, we learn how to handle a knife. When we encounter a blizzard, we feel cold, because fearing the cold taught us how to find warmth. We fear hunger, so we know the value of food and feel shame for wasting it… All of these things come from the body. You don’t have a human body. Relying only on those Memory Bubbles, how could you possibly grasp my thoughts or predict my actions? An ancient spirit without flesh and blood cannot feel anger, impulsiveness, or hatred. You have no need for the cunning that humans use to struggle for survival. What you have is patience. As long as you outlive your opponent, you win. And so, you’ve made a series of mistakes…”

The Ant-man Empress asked nonchalantly, “Oh? And what mistakes are those?” She covertly directed the Four-armed Ant-men to swim stealthily toward Victor’s position.

A playful smile touched the corner of Victor’s lips. “My subordinates believe I am invincible, and that’s because I never fight a battle I cannot win… This river, and the nearby forest, I scouted them half a year ago. I have the ability to swim underwater for over ten kilometers in one breath. Has Your Majesty considered why, if I was confident I could use this forest river to escape the Four-armed Ant-men’s pursuit, I led you on a merry chase through the Black Forest? When I first fell into the water, I could have swum away submerged. Why did I reveal myself? I know the Four-armed Ant-men on the east bank are trying to surround me from underwater. Why have I kept my back to them?”

From the northern part of the forest on the east bank, a tall and burly figure burst out, roaring, “Aka is brave!” while raising a long-handled heavy hammer glowing with platinum light. He charged at the six Four-armed Ant-men who had remained on the bank. From the southern part of the forest, a human warrior wielding two Adamantine beheading greatswords also emerged from the bushes, launching a determined charge at the Ant-men on the riverbank.

Across the surging river, Victor gave an elegant bow to the Ant-man Empress. He said seriously, “Your Majesty, I admire Archmage Angelina’s dedication to exploring different fields. However, her experiment in emulating the Gods of the Void was fundamentally flawed from the very beginning. It caused you to gradually lose your humanity, without making you a true member of the Gods of the Void… I don’t think you’re foolish, merely not cunning enough.”

Chapter 897: The Archmage’s Wish

The river that flowed through the forest ran silently, its seemingly gentle current hiding a powerful and unstoppable force. Victor, Narsen, and Caligula stood on the east bank, staring across the wide river at the Ant-man Empress, who stood tall on the west bank. The corpses of six Four-armed Ant-men lay at their feet. The blood of these high-level Ant-men flowed into the river, but instead of staining the water’s surface, it sank to the bottom.

Their blood was actually heavier than the river water.

The Four-armed Ant-man was a truly terrifying monster, with a biological rank at least equal to that of an Ogre Warlord. However, the opponents they faced were the most elite warriors of the human kingdoms, and the Four-armed Ant-man’s weakness—its incomplete life form—was instantly magnified several times over. Even so, Narsen and Caligula had given their all to exterminate the six Four-armed Ant-men. And although the fight had looked like an overwhelming victory, it could not be called an easy one.

This was thanks to Victor, who had tricked most of the Four-armed Ant-men on the east bank into the river beforehand, leaving only six on the shore. Narsen and Caligula had then teamed up to quickly dispatch them. Otherwise, there had originally been nineteen Four-armed Ant-men guarding the east bank. They would certainly have been able to tie down Caligula and Narsen, and if the Ant-man Empress had seized the opportunity to lead the rest of her forces ashore, the situation would have become very dangerous.

Seeing that their Master was safe and sound, Narsen and Caligula were naturally relieved, but they had no time for pleasantries. One gripped a long-handled warhammer that flowed with a platinum-gold radiance, while the other held an Adamantine beheading greatsword. Countless tiny vortexes of air swirled with their every breath as they flanked Victor, staring at the Ant-man Empress and her Four-armed Ant-man claws across the river as if facing a formidable enemy.

They now occupied the east bank, separated from the Ant-man Empress on the west by the forest river. The furiously flowing river was over eight hundred meters wide, but it wasn’t an insurmountable chasm. For now, they had the geographical advantage; if the Four-armed Ant-men tried to swim across, they would be especially easy to pick off one by one as they came ashore. The key was the Ant-man Empress. She was fully capable of wading across the river and forcing a landing, buying time for the other Four-armed Ant-men to get ashore.

“My lord, should we cover each other and move downstream along the bank?” Narsen kept his eyes fixed on the Ant-man Empress across the river, lowering his voice to a whisper as he offered his counsel to Victor.

He had personally experienced the strength of the Four-armed Ant-men and had his own assessment of the current situation. Though he did not recognize the Ant-man Empress, the aura of the Four-armed Ant-man covered in twelve vibrant magic tattoos was terrifying, and clearly distinct from the others of her kind. Even standing beside Victor and Caligula, Narsen could feel a danger that stung his very soul. Moreover, something seemed to be wrong with My lord Earl; his power had weakened considerably. If the Ant-man Empress on the other side led her dozens of high-level Ant-men across the river, the three of them would likely be unable to hold the bank.

The best response right now was to head downstream, where the river was wider. If the Four-armed Ant-men crossed as a group, they would be forced to spread out. When the Ant-man Empress was the first to land, they could use the time gap to concentrate their forces and kill her before the other Ant-men made it ashore.

“Yes, Master, let’s go,” Caligula nodded repeatedly. He didn’t understand the tactical significance of the maneuver, but his keen intuition led him to agree with Narsen’s suggestion.

Victor furrowed his straight, slender brows and said thoughtfully, “The Ant-man Empress isn’t necessarily my enemy.”

Narsen nodded in reply. “My lord, I feel her hostility has faded… However, this monster is truly dangerous. We should still be cautious.”

As he spoke, the Ant-man Empress on the west bank suddenly walked into the river alone. Using floating debris as footholds, she leaped across the surface of the water like a nimble deer. Caligula immediately took a step forward, his tall, sturdy body blocking Victor’s front like a great mountain. Narsen, meanwhile, quickly retreated fifty meters. This distance was perfect for maximizing the effect of his Touch of the Mind, like a drawn fist or a hidden blade, constantly threatening the enemy’s mind while he chose the best moment to attack.

Victor and his men had already assumed a battle formation, but the Ant-man Empress acted as if she hadn’t seen them. Before setting foot on the bank, she tossed aside the Adamantine spiked mace in her hand. Then, she reached back and snapped off her two secondary arms from under her armpits as casually as if breaking two tree branches.

Having lost two of her arms, the Ant-man Empress now looked more like a human female with a graceful, curvaceous figure. She strolled toward Victor and finally stopped ten meters in front of him. She turned to glance at the west bank, and her dozens of Four-armed Ant-man minions scattered into the Black Forest on the western shore, soon disappearing from sight.

From beginning to end, the Ant-man Empress’s expression remained perfectly calm, as if disarming herself, inflicting self-harm, and dismissing her followers in front of her enemies were all matters of little consequence. An inexplicable sense of sorrow rose in Victor’s heart. He remained silent for a moment before gently pushing Caligula aside and facing the Ant-man Empress directly. “You don’t want to kill me anymore?” he asked.

The Ant-man Empress shook her head coolly and replied in the ancient common tongue, “Killing you is meaningless now. We have both lost… The alchemical creatures you sent to kill the perfect body are all dead. Not only did they fail to complete the task you gave them, but they stimulated the perfect body’s instinctive will, hastening the Spider Lady’s revival. It can now be called an Incarnation of the Spider Lady, no longer my perfect body.”

The Ant-man Empress gave Caligula, who was glaring at her, another deep look and said, “This warrior follower of yours possesses the Lord of Radiance’s true Power of Annihilation. He once had the chance to kill the perfect body… I do not understand. Why did you give up this one and only chance to win?”

She was right. When Caligula had launched his surprise attack on the perfect body, if the Dragonkin handmaiden Mewen had returned to Victor’s side while Aka remained to fight, they might have had a chance to kill the perfect body, and Victor would have received Mewen’s aid. But Victor’s order to the Dragonkin handmaiden was to prioritize Aka’s safety. He himself was being besieged by the Ant-man Empress and was in an extremely perilous situation, yet he had not used his Mental Link to summon the Dragonkin handmaiden back for support. Victor had, in fact, used his own safety as a bargaining chip to help Aka make a choice that was beneficial to him. Aka ran back to assist Victor, thereby avoiding the fate of being assimilated by the Holy Light.

Of course, Victor was not as noble as one might imagine. His escape route had been meticulously planned. Even if Aka had not been able to aid him in time, Victor believed Narsen would have acted decisively. Because Narsen also possessed the Touch of the Mind and could sense his liege lord was in danger. Moreover, Victor had been constantly moving toward the Randall expedition team’s position, and the distance between them was very short.

Victor did not know to what extent Caligula had been corrupted by the Holy Light at the time, or whether he still placed his Master in a position of greater importance. But he had given Aka a chance to correct his fate and was willing to bear the consequences. And neither Caligula nor Narsen had disappointed Victor.

Likewise, Victor did not disappoint his subordinates.

Faced with the Ant-man Empress’s confusion, Victor had no desire to give answers like, “This is trust…” or “The Dragonkin handmaiden can be revived if she dies, but if Aka dies, he’s truly dead.” The ancient spirit would only have scoffed at such answers, even if a spirit has no nose to scoff with.

Victor suddenly smiled, a sincere and brilliant smile like pure sunlight. He inclined his head and said, “I believe my heart was unwilling to use the power of the Lord of Radiance to extinguish your wills. I am referring to you, and the Spider Lady… In truth, you are different thoughts of a single whole. Hmm, mortals also have many thoughts, but their thoughts are fleeting, like foam on a river, fragile and leaving no trace. But your spiritual power is strong enough to allow each thought to differentiate into a distinct will.”

The Ant-man Empress stared at Victor. A moment later, she smiled too, the corners of her mouth turning up in an arc that revealed a touch of humanized softness. She said, “It is good that you can understand me… In fact, our life forms are different, yet our predicaments, experiences, and obsessions are surprisingly similar.”

The Will Side of Archmage Angelina’s soul was possibly the original consciousness of Spirit-Devouring Island. She and the island were in an inseparable symbiotic relationship, but the divine will of the Spider Lady to which Spirit-Devouring Island belonged would one day awaken and consume Angelina’s Will Side. Strictly speaking, this would not be the end of Angelina, but a form of soul assimilation. But for Angelina’s individual will, it was no different from death. Thus, the part of Angelina that was the Ant-man Empress was utterly unwilling to be assimilated by the Spider Lady, and everything she did was to avoid that outcome.

Victor’s body also housed the divine will of the Sun Elf. While he occupied the Sun Elf’s standing, he was also suppressing the revival of the Sun Elf’s divine will. He knew that once he fused with the Sun Elf’s divine will, the essence of his soul would undergo a cataclysmic change. He would no longer be himself.

An ordinary person might jump at the chance to merge with divine power and gain great authority, but a proud soul would never yield to a god. This was what Victor and the Ant-man Empress had in common.

The Ant-man Empress continued, “The first Sun Elf was the mortal incarnation of the Sun God Frey, and also the spouse of the Moon Goddess Freya. The Spider Lady is Freya’s demonic incarnation. Your unwillingness to let the Lord of Radiance drive out the Spider Lady is likely due to the influence of the Sun Elf’s divine will.”

Victor neither confirmed nor denied it, merely nodding. “One’s life is always spent in contradiction. I have my principles. Even if the Spider Lady ultimately comes for me, whatever the result, I will have no regrets.” He paused, then asked with curiosity, “When did you discover that something was wrong with you?”

The Ant-man Empress thought back for a moment and said, “More than six hundred years after Archmage Andrew released me, I began to try and cultivate a suitable Incarnation for myself, hoping to walk the Prime Material Plane through it. However, I was astonished to discover that all the Incarnations the Ant-man queen conceived for me took the form of the Spider Lady, and there was simply no way to adjust it. It was only then that I realized Spirit-Devouring Island itself was the spirit of the Spider Lady, and everything I was doing was strengthening Her Incarnation.”

“The root of the problem was that sacred object of the Moon Goddess… Back then, we borrowed ‘Freya’s Tear’ from the Elven Empire to complete the life form of the Gros Insectoids, because in nature, the Gros Insectoids were mainly weak eight-legged insects. They obviously couldn’t serve as the combat and production units for the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower. The domain power of the sacred object allowed the Groth Broodmother to birth Ant-men, which was the basic template we needed for our insectoid alchemical units. Of course, this was a complete and utter conspiracy…”

“I had no idea how important ‘Freya’s Tear’ was to the Elven Empire… The Elven Emperor and the Secret Order had an agreement: the Elves would help us perfect the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower, and we would use the tower to help the Dark Elves resist the demonic incursions. This agreement had a precondition: the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower must never attack the Elven Empire. So, the Elven Emperor produced the sacred object of the Moon Goddess. We used it as a sacrificial resource, allowing the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower to become imbued with the aura of the Moon Goddess. That way, the Ant-man race would be unable to attack the Moon Goddess’s domain.”

“I later discovered that the sacrificed ‘Freya’s Tear’ had actually fallen into the center of Spirit-Devouring Island, possessing an indestructible quality. And it was a seed… Since it was a seed, what grew from it was fixed and unchangeable, such as the perfect body in the shape of the Spider Lady, and Spirit-Devouring Island in the shape of a spider…”

“If I had not taken measures, Spirit-Devouring Island would have grown large enough to reawaken its instinctive will more than ten thousand years ago… Of course, I was not resigned to being devoured by the Spider Lady. Therefore, I found a way to cast ‘Freya’s Tear’ out of Spirit-Devouring Island and into the Realm of All Spirits. Unexpectedly, this prompted the revival of the King of the Spirit Realm’s will, the one you killed: the Black Blood Sovereign.”

“The Black Blood Sovereign’s mind was chaos, filled with terrible instincts. It devoured the souls of the Assyrians, gathered power, and shaped a body, significantly slowing Spirit-Devouring Island’s growth. But if left uncontrolled, the Black Blood Sovereign would one day devour Spirit-Devouring Island… Throughout the long history of the Assyrian Empire, I schemed against the Black Blood Sovereign many times but could never eliminate it. Until the Paladins from the Trigoval family arrived in the Assyrian Empire… Only then did I discover that the Alchemical Empire’s God Creation Plan had not failed, and ascending the Angelic Throne of the Lord of Radiance was my only way out of this predicament.”

“I almost succeeded.”

Victor gave an awkward smile and asked, “You’re not going to be so shallow as to think it was I who shattered your hope, are you?”

The Ant-man Empress shook her head. “The extraordinary beings involved with the Lord of Radiance were more complex than I had anticipated… When Beldina was destroying the Realm of All Spirits, platinum-gold Holy Chains appeared. I guessed then that my plan might run into problems. I just wasn’t willing to give up my only hope.”

Victor was silent for a moment before asking again, “Actually, you intended to kill me from the very beginning?”

The Ant-man Empress nodded, admitting it frankly. “Yes. I believed that for the Spider Lady to revive this Incarnation, two conditions had to be met: first, ‘Freya’s Tear’; second, the divinity of the Sun Elf. ‘Freya’s Tear’ had already been taken by the Elves, and you possess the Sun Elf’s divinity. Killing you should have bought me more time.”

Victor frowned and asked, “The perfect body had already awakened before. Why were you still hunting me?”

The Ant-man Empress said flatly, “It was not complete. It had a lifespan of only thirty days. If it had seized the Sun Elf divinity from your body, it might have extended its life. If I had killed you first, it would not have had time to go to the Elven Empire to retrieve the sacred object. In that case, I would still have had a chance to make Spirit-Devouring Island hibernate again.”

“It’s no longer necessary. It has just awakened the full power of Spirit-Devouring Island. Its soul has merged with the perfect body, and it has less than ten days of life left. It is impossible for me to make Spirit-Devouring Island fall silent again. Being assimilated by the Spider Lady is a fate I must accept. Then, we will come for you.”

The Ant-man Empress stared at Victor with profound eyes and said, “Suppressing the power of the Sun Elf bloodline is useless. The Rune Crystal of your Alchemy Tower will point the way for us. Unless you can find an elemental balance node and abandon your Alchemy Tower within ten days.”

“His Highness Randell, I have lost, and so have you.”

Victor smiled. “That’s not necessarily true. I don’t plan on becoming rations for the Spider Lady. I’m guessing this Incarnation of the Spider Lady can’t fly, am I right?”

The Ant-man Empress shook her head and sighed. “You’re celebrating too soon. The Ant-man craftsmen can also build ships.”

Victor’s eyes burned with a fierce light. “Ten days. If you can’t catch my ship within ten days, I win! Surely you didn’t tell me all this if you weren’t hoping I could escape?”

The Ant-man Empress was silent for a moment, then finally nodded. “The Spider Lady is searching the psionic network. My will is about to perish, but the legacy of the Alchemical Empire should not end here! Although I am powerless to change the Spider Lady’s pursuit of the Sun God’s divinity, if you can survive these last ten days, I will give you a precious gift… in the name of the last Archmage of the Alchemical Empire, Angelina.”

“May luck be with you, the last Alchemy Tower Master of the Alchemical Empire, Your Highness Victor Wimbledon Randell.”

The Ant-man Empress, Angelina, turned and walked away, waving at Victor with her back to him. The sunlight cascaded over her, leaving behind a proud and solitary silhouette.

Chapter 898: Final Instructions

Inside the cliff cave, Charlotte paced back and forth, her hand on the hilt of her sword. Her expression was grim, her entire being radiating an intense anxiety that completely belied the elegant composure of a noblewoman knight.

Imosen the Wizard had been moved closer to the mouth of the cave. He was injured, and it seemed quite serious; even the divine arts Father Dayn had used on him produced no obvious improvement. According to Dayn’s explanation, Imosen’s condition was a mental trauma caused by magical backlash, so general healing arts were of little help. After gaining Charlotte’s consent, the priest of the Lord of Radiance cast a calming spell, allowing Imosen to repair his spiritual damage in a deep sleep.

With Imosen unconscious, the Aberrant Otters were left without a handler. The log rafts had lost their most important safeguard, and the Randall expedition team could only cower in the cave.

At such a difficult impasse, Charlotte, as the leader of the Randall expedition team, should have been the one to step forward, boost morale, and rally the troops’ morale. However, if Charlotte had any sense of the bigger picture, she wouldn’t have been swept out of the Briatte family in the first place. The education she had received since childhood was on how to devotedly love a powerful master, a perfect husband. And the Gold-Eyed Earl had far surpassed all of Charlotte’s fantasies of a master and a husband. Upon learning that Imosen and his daughter had failed and Victor’s fate was unknown, she had become utterly distraught. How could she have the presence of mind to comfort anyone else?

Half a day ago, Lord Narsen had decisively rushed off to aid Victor. Had she not been unable to keep up with a Gold-rank Ferocious Warrior, and feared becoming a burden, Charlotte would have long since led her family members in pursuit.

Now, Charlotte simply hoped that Victor was safe and that Lord Narsen could bring him back. Of course, it didn’t matter if Narsen didn’t return, as long as Victor did.

In reality, most believed that Lord Narsen was completely incapable of handling whatever danger His Highness Randell had encountered. They feared he would not be coming back. Even Narsen himself had given instructions that if Lord Victor did not return within three days, The Randell Expeditionary Force should not wait for anyone. This “anyone,” of course, included the lord himself.

The first day of Narsen’s departure was not yet over, but a mood of dejection, like an inescapable shadow, hung over everyone in the cave. What was most unbearable was the thought that if His Highness Randell were to perish at the hands of a powerful enemy, they, these insignificant small fry, could actually leave safely. But they would forever bear the sin of abandoning their lord, doomed to spend every day and night of their lives in endless regret.

Young Brandon could bear it no longer. He drew his Adamantine longsword, which shimmered with a purple light, and shouted, “I’m going to find My lord Earl! Who will come with me?”

Charlotte whirled around, about to agree, when she heard Klaus respond first, “You go. I’ll stay here and wait.”

Brandon flew into a rage. “Klaus, what do you mean?! My lord Earl needs aid, and you just sit there? Have you forgotten the Master’s kindness to us? Forgotten your duty as a family knight?!”

Klaus sat cross-legged in a corner, his longsword laid across his knees. He spoke calmly, “My lord Earl is my liege lord and my Tutor. He took me in, personally taught me how to use a sword, and guided me onto The Path of a Knight. I’m not trying to stop you from doing anything; rather, I understand what I must do… Brandon, listen to me. The Master knows our location, but we do not know his. If he needs us and we’ve all run off, who will be here to help him?”

The Mind Warrior Rogers suddenly asked in a gruff voice, “Brother Klaus, how do you know your choice is the right one?”

Klaus shook his head and said bitterly, “I don’t know who is right and who is wrong… so I trust in the Master’s decisions and obey his commands. I hope you are right, Brandon, but… In any case, someone has to stay here. It doesn’t matter if you all think I’m a coward, but I must make it clear: if the Master returns, he must leave immediately. I will not wait for you.”

The honor of a family retinue was worth more than life, but it took a coward to make a hero. Ghostface Swordsman Tao De understood. Klaus was actually hoping that someone would step up to support Brandon, while he himself willingly bore the name of a coward.

“Brandon, count me in,” Tao De said with a smile as he stood up.

The Ferocious Warrior Red Wolf also walked over, saying with a wry smile, “I’ve always been timid and afraid of death, but this time, you have to count me in no matter what.”

The tall Rogers stood beside Brandon in silence, making his stance clear through his actions.

Blood Python Macy possessed a bold personality that was at odds with her stunning looks, yet she also had a woman’s delicate thoughtfulness. She laughed heartily and said, “I’ll go too. But My Lady Charlotte and the spellcasters should stay here, in case the Master returns and there’s no one to receive him.”

Father Dayn watched with a cool eye. Seeing Charlotte, who should have been giving orders, wavering with indecision, looking as if she both wanted to rescue her man and worried about missing Victor’s return, Dayn grew secretly anxious. He wasn’t opposed to Brandon’s suggestion, foolish as it was. But if the three remaining Ferocious Warriors in the party all went out, there would be no one left to provide an early warning. It was common sense that a great lord’s expedition team should have at least one Ferocious Warrior with sharp intuition; their premonition of danger was even more valuable than a battle priest’s divine arts.

Dayn coughed and said diplomatically, “The Lady should stay. Macy, you stay and accompany My Lady Charlotte. I will go with Brandon to find His Highness Randall.”

How could the only priest in the group just run off? If My lord Earl returned and needed healing through divine arts, what would they do if Father Dayn was absent?

Prompted by Dayn, Brandon finally regained his senses. His lips moved, but he didn’t know what to say.

Just as an awkward silence fell over the group, Red Wolf, whose Perception was the keenest, suddenly twitched his ears and let out a low gasp, “Someone’s coming down from the cliff… three people!”

Charlotte immediately ran to the edge of the cave entrance. Looking up, she saw Victor, Narsen, and Caligula descending the steep cliff face, leaping down with incredible speed.

Clang! The female knight dropped her longsword, covering her small mouth with both hands, her eyes already brimming with tears.

Victor landed lightly on the platform at the cave’s entrance, his eyes sweeping over the group. He smiled and said, “I’m back.”

Tears streaming down her face, Charlotte rushed towards her Lover’s embrace, but someone else jumped onto Victor first, wailing loudly, “Master, Bel was so worried about you!”

The Beldina of today was a slender and devastatingly beautiful young maiden. She clung to Victor’s body like an octopus, leaving no space between them. And to make matters worse, Victor was only wearing a pair of breeches!

Charlotte’s smooth, fair cheeks instantly puffed out. She suddenly found Beldina incredibly annoying, and she secretly gritted her silver teeth, thinking, That little fey did it on purpose… How could she possibly be faster than me? She must have used some wicked Wizardry.

Victor reached up and plucked Beldina off him. “We’re leaving,” he said sternly. “Right now.”

The Great River Bend stretched out to the horizon, where water and sky met. Its vastness was almost comparable to that of Borui River Bay, worthy of being called a sea-lake.

Two log rafts, each a dozen meters long and over four meters wide, looked exceedingly small as they navigated the riverbend. However, the seemingly simple log rafts were crafted with exquisite materials and workmanship. Although conditions were limited, preventing the Alchemical militia from performing necessary processes like soaking, drying, nailing, and oiling the wood, they had selected a type of corrosion-resistant water willow as the main material for the rafts. They used ancient vines over a hundred years old for binding and employed a mortise-and-tenon structure for reinforcement, ensuring the log rafts could withstand the winds, waves, and erosion of the Goldwater River for at least five consecutive months of travel.

Although it was currently the Season of Wind, and the rafts were sailing against the wind and waves, they were pulled by Alchemical Dragon-Lizards at their bows. Alchemical militia took turns rowing with oars and sculls, while Aberrant Otters bit onto outriggers on the sides to help push. The two rafts, one behind the other, carved four white lines across the river’s surface, traveling as fast as galloping horses.

“At this speed, the Ant-man race’s fleet shouldn’t be able to catch us,” Father Dayn said with a laugh, his gaze returning from the boundless river. “I estimate the Ant-man craftsmen can’t even build ships in time. Even if they could, the ships wouldn’t get very far. They’d probably fall apart after floating for two days.”

Victor sat on a rack on the raft, his eyes deep and profound as if he hadn’t heard the priest’s words. After a moment, he finally spoke, “Dayne, if you make it back, have you thought about your fate?”

His Highness Randall’s tone was flat, suffused with an autumn-like bleakness. A chill rose in the heart of Father Dayn, who had been feigning a lighthearted mood. He couldn’t help but shiver. After a moment of silence, he stammered, “I haven’t thought about it, nor do I dare to.”

It was always easier to talk to intelligent people. Victor smiled faintly, glanced back at Dayne, and continued, “On this expedition, House of Randell has suffered devastating losses. Of nearly three hundred elite warriors, only twenty remain. The war beasts were almost completely wiped out, and even my four Dragonkin handmaidens have perished. Of course, our gains were also considerable. We have over six hundred pieces of high-value purple-veined amber, countless green-veined ambers, and many seeds of rare plants. A share of these treasures belongs to you. If you can find the right channels to sell them, you’ll earn at least one hundred thousand Gold Sols.”

“But, compared to the Poltanos Secret Art, the third-level Source Blood Secret Art, and the principles of the Combat Breathing Method that I taught you, a mere one hundred thousand Gold Sols is nothing. Besides…”

Victor paused briefly, his gaze drifting to the raft ahead. He sighed, “Beldina seized the spirit essence of the Realm of All Spirits, though none of us know what this means for the Radiant Church. However, your contribution is immense—so immense that the Curia would need the religious inquisition to specially fabricate charges against you, otherwise they would have no way to reward you.”

Dayne quietly gripped the Holy Crystal hidden in his pocket, as if drawing intangible support from it. He asked in a low voice, “Your Highness, does this mean you won’t be able to return?”

Victor did not answer directly, only saying, “If I can return, Pontiff Clement and I, working from inside and out, can naturally secure you the position you deserve. If I don’t return, the first person Sylvia will want to kill is you. If you meet one clergy member in the Oak Savannah, she will kill two. If you meet ten, she will kill eleven. Only a person of real power, like Bishop Pello, might be spared by Sylvia, but Pello cannot protect you. I suspect he wouldn’t even plead on your behalf.”

“And don’t blame Sylvia for being cold-blooded. This is actually the collective will of the southern lords… When the northern lords were developing the Northern Wildlands, the tenant system they implemented was not yet mature, and they didn’t have time to form mercenary legions as auxiliary forces. Therefore, many large mercenary companies were formed with the tacit approval of the Sasan Empire and the Kingdom of Naville. These freemen forces were inevitably infiltrated and controlled by the Church, and the northern lords couldn’t interfere at all. Fortunately, they already relied on the Church’s support, so they chose to turn a blind eye to the Church-controlled freemen forces.”

“We southern lords are different. We would rather our developmental progress be a little slower, waiting for the mercenary legions to take shape, than allow the Church to plant large freemen armed groups in the southern Pioneer Fiefs.”

“The Source Blood Secret Art, which I created together with the Aerie Fortress Wizard, is a crucial means of consolidating the mercenary legions. I taught you the third-level Source Blood Secret Art, but I did not give you the corresponding potion formula. However, with the talent and resources and heritage of the Radiant Church, they can replicate and even improve the Source Blood Secret Art and the potion formula. But this will take time, measured in years… and that time is enough for us to perfect our mercenary legion system and prevent it from being disintegrated from within. The Combat Breathing Method, however, has a very low training threshold and can rapidly increase a soldier’s combat effectiveness… I can already imagine that fellow Tournans using the principles of the Combat Breathing Method to create different levels and types of combat breathing methods, and then teaching them to freemen mercenaries. Those large mercenary companies would then be tightly united around the Church, impossible to drive away.”

Victor asked with a smile, “Tell me, would we southern lords be happy to see the Church guide armed freemen to develop in the southern Pioneer Fiefs?”

Dayne gave a bitter smile. “Even if I swore to the Supreme Lord that I will not leak the principles of the Combat Breathing Method for ten years, I doubt Your Highness would believe me, would you?”

“Oh, come on. How could you possibly make such an oath?” Victor clapped Dayne’s shoulder and laughed heartily. After a moment, his smile vanished, and he said seriously, “Dayne, you are a Gold-rank spellcaster now. I can give you a piece of advice to avoid danger.”

As he spoke, Victor raised his arm. Charlotte, who was beside him, immediately brought over a deerskin pouch and took out the nine-headed hydra orb, handing it to Victor.

“This is an orb entrusted to me by the mythical nine-headed hydra from Lizard Marsh. She and I have an agreement. Now, I am entrusting this nine-headed hydra orb to your care. If you meet Sylvia, show this orb to her. I guarantee that not only will she not kill you to silence you, but she will also help you deal with the accusations from the religious inquisition.”

“…Still don’t get it? Then go back to the raft ahead and think it over. While you’re at it, have Narsen come over for me.” Victor grinned, stuffing the nine-headed hydra orb and the deerskin pouch into the priest’s hands before giving Charlotte a pointed look.

The experienced Bronze-rank female knight flashed a mischievous smile, grabbed Dayne by his belt, and, ignoring his protests, threw him clean off the raft.

On the other raft, Caligula caught the airborne priest with a chuckle. The big simpleton treated catching and throwing people like a game. Dayne could only curse his luck; without the fire of the mind ignited, he couldn’t walk on water and had no choice but to accept the “kind assistance” of his allies.

Narsen had been waiting for some time. As soon as Father Dayn flew back, he lunged from the side of the raft, tapped lightly on the trailing board behind it, and leaped onto the raft where Victor was.

“My lord, you summoned me?” Narsen asked in a low voice.

Victor nodded and gestured for his number one confidant to sit. “There are some things I must entrust to you,” he said calmly.

A blue vein bulged at the corner of Narsen’s eye. He said gravely, “My lord, if you think that monster will definitely catch up, then I will fight it to the death. I will never let it harm you, unless it steps over my dead body!”

Victor shook his head and chuckled. “That is just wishful thinking… The Spider Lady is an ancient demonic god, a being beyond my imagination. Mewen, Dili, Fugerui, and even Beldina’s Legendary Guardian Spirit all perished at Her hands. What chance would a Gold-rank Ferocious Warrior like you have?”

Narsen hesitated for a moment before finally speaking his mind, “My lord, if my death can reawaken your fighting spirit, then it would be worth it!”

“Fighting spirit… hmm, my fighting spirit is still here. You just can’t understand it.” Victor rubbed his chin, then changed the subject. “Narsen, we didn’t know each other for long when Nicole used an Old Ogre for her Trial of Life and Death. I took you to rescue her. What were you thinking at that time?”

Narsen was stunned for a long while before replying with embarrassment, “My lord, I was scared to death… I had no problem dealing with Savage Gnolls back then, but against an Ogre, I probably didn’t stand a chance.”

Victor nodded and let out a long sigh. “Time really flies. Things from over a decade ago feel like they just happened yesterday… Back then, you couldn’t handle a single Old Ogre, but later, you slayed an Ogre Brute in the Sasan Empire and easily earned the title of Ogre Slayer. You’ve also killed a Half-dragon, Undead Creatures, a Gold-rank Black Blood Demon, and you even took down three Spider Handmaidens. Have you noticed? As your strength grows, the enemies you face become stronger… This principle is the same for me.”

“There’s a proverb circulating in noble circles that sounds like a joke: ‘Nobles have afternoon tea with nobles in the garden, while beggars fight with beggars in the mud.’… We can never fight with beggars in a mud pit, because a mere glance from us could cost a beggar his life. Just like that Sasan Knight you killed—his family merely issued a bounty, and it pushed the War Bear Mercenary Company into a desperate corner. But today, even the Gold Knights of the Sasan Empire must speak politely to the Bear of the Northlands.”

Narsen lowered his head in frustration. “I understand. To the Spider Lady, I am like a beggar in a mud pit.”

Victor clapped his shoulder firmly and smiled. “That’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s just that when facing a demon sovereign who has mastered the Law of Origin, a direct confrontation is largely meaningless.”

Narsen’s eyes lit up, his spirits instantly lifting. “So we’ll rely on My lord’s extraordinary wisdom?” he pressed.

Wisdom? What damn good is wisdom in front of the Spider Lady… Victor ranted internally. He shook his head and said, “My power has grown too quickly, and the opponents I face have become despairingly strong. However, I once had a chance to escape this desperate situation, but I gave it up. I didn’t do it entirely for Aka. There was another reason that made me decide I could no longer run away. I have to make a clean break!”

He was silent for a long time before continuing, “I’m worried that if I use the power of the Lord of Radiance to expel the Spider Lady this time, the enemy I’ll have to face in the future might be Sylvia. That would truly leave me with no way out.”

“How is that possible?!” Narsen couldn’t stop himself from roaring.

Victor’s expression was calm as he said, “I have witnessed a Spirit Knight in its perfect form. It can be seen as an Incarnation of the world’s will. That special experience made me think of Empress Regnant Verodica and Sword Saint Draven… The Church once spread rumors that Verodica killed her own husband on the brink of her fall. The truth, however, is that Draven returned to the Elves and ascended to the throne of the Elven Emperor as a Sun Elf. This action of Draven’s must have been in line with Verodica’s wishes—or more accurately, it was in accordance with the demands of the Spirit Knight she had become. Otherwise, Draven really would have been killed by his own wife.”

“The divine nature of the Sun Elf is unique and eternal. By occupying the position of the Sun Elf and suppressing its divine nature, I am myself violating the Law of the world. Therefore, this Path is a dead end. The further I walk it, the more terrifying the obstacles I will encounter. I would rather make a clean break with the Spider Lady’s Incarnation now, than be forced to kill each other with my Lover in the future.”

Victor smiled, a certain laziness in his voice. “Actually, you don’t need to worry too much. I estimate what happens next will be one of a few scenarios… Either the Spider Lady fails to catch up, Her Incarnation collapses, and we return to the Centaur Hills smoothly; or, She catches up to us and slaughters us all with a wave of Her hand. But I think the most likely outcome is that I will leave you all and go to Aylanta in the Elven Empire to guard the Sun Tree.”

Chapter 899: The Legacy of the Myriad Phenomena Primal Method

Kognoris, the Supreme Elementalist and Council President of the Alchemical Empire, had once asked Victor what consequences he thought would follow if he refused the Sun God Frey’s invitation.

At the time, Victor, acting from his position as a great lord of the human kingdoms, had given a clear refusal.

He hadn’t expected the retribution to come so swiftly and fiercely—a direct confrontation with the Spider Lady.

It was undoubtedly a sad story. To put it simply, Victor had stolen the position of a Sun Elf, snuck into a secret garden built by the Sun Elves for their goddess wife, and wreaked havoc, finally alerting the garden’s mistress. Now, that furious lady was coming to settle accounts with Victor.

Victor knew full well that against the Spider Lady, even just one of Her Incarnations, his own might and wisdom were no match. However, the Creator Taelon Ruier had never stipulated that Victor had to engage in a battle of wits and courage with the Spider Lady.

As the First Sacred Warrior Tournans had said, whether you were a rabbit or a wolf, a sheep or a tiger, whoever survived was the one strong enough to conquer fate.

After all, the creatures of this world could coexist.

If he couldn’t fight the Spider Lady, couldn’t he at least run?

Running was likely the simplest and most universal method for intelligent creatures to evade disaster, and the simplest methods were often the most effective.

Victor could not think of a better plan. Besides running as fast as he could, he also had to prepare for the worst.

Since his birth in the Taelon World, Victor had made more friends than enemies. Most of the people he loved were extraordinary beings who didn’t need much looking after, but the House of Randell, which he had founded with his own hands, was still fledgling. Victor sincerely hoped that if he were to perish, the core members of the House of Randell would rally around Nicole and jointly inherit the precious legacy he left to the human kingdoms.

Although the remaining members of the Randell Expeditionary Force were also under a deadly threat from the Spider Lady, Victor was doing his utmost to create a chance for them to escape.

Victor ordered the two log rafts to maintain a distance of at least two hundred meters. The five Ferocious Warriors—Narsen, Caligula, Macy, Red Wolf, and Rogers—along with the three family knights—Brandon, Klaus, and Tao De—and the three spellcasters—Father Dayne, Imoson the Wizard, and Beldina—all boarded the front raft.

Victor took the rear raft with Reno, Shak, and ten other Alchemical Militia. If the Spider Lady did catch up, he was determined to stay behind and cover their retreat, allowing the front raft to speed away.

As for Charlotte, the golden-haired, green-eyed sworn female knight was determined to live or die with her Master. She refused to leave Victor’s side, even holding her Adamantine longsword to her own neck to prove her resolve. When both hard and soft tactics failed and repeated persuasion proved fruitless, Victor had no choice but to agree, allowing Charlotte and her sword-wielding handmaidens to remain on the rear raft with him, to face their uncertain fate together.

Every day, Victor would summon his retinue and subordinates one by one for private conversations, patiently answering their questions and personally teaching them the Raging Tide Combat Technique. Afterward, he would send them back to the front raft.

The Raging Tide Combat Technique was no earth-shattering secret art, but it drew inspiration from Narsen’s Breath-Gathering Slash and Rogers’s active berserk state, allowing one to stack power and strike multiple times. Its value lay in its universality and compatibility; whether a Knight or a Ferocious Warrior, whether one had ignited the fire of the mind or not, all could achieve varying degrees of success through continuous practice.

Victor’s Raging Tide Combat Technique was tailored for himself; others would be unable to stack power to sixteen layers. However, the technique was like a key that the Ferocious Warriors and family knights could use to open a new door. In a sense, the design philosophy of the Raging Tide Combat Technique was already approaching the theoretical concept of “Source Power.” Only when practitioners, with Victor’s help, created their own transcendent combat skills suited to their personalities and physical conditions could they be considered truly successful.

The Mind Bloodline secret art was Victor’s proudest research achievement, but because Mind Warriors focused on the Forging Method while being light on the Sundering Method, their combat power was generally lower than their actual strength. Thus, “Source Power” had become Victor’s greatest regret. The Raging Tide Combat Technique combined the Combat Breathing Method with the Mind Bloodline Forging Method, compensating to some extent for the Mind Warriors’ lack of combat prowess.

Though they were on the run, Victor had a beauty by his side and top-tier warriors to help him perfect his combat techniques and secret arts. Every day was fulfilling.

In contrast to his allies’ anxiety, Victor set aside all other matters and distracting thoughts to immerse himself in his research. It was a breakthrough born of long accumulation; on the eighth day of their flight, he streamlined and integrated the Source Blood Secret Art and the Combat Breathing Method, creating the “Myriad Phenomena Primal Method.”

The essence of this secret art was a foundational combat technique. It was simple and easy to learn, and anyone could practice it. It was divided into four stages. The “Myriad Phenomena” in its name referred to its limitless, ever-changing potential. When a practitioner had fully mastered the Myriad Phenomena Primal Method, they would have the opportunity to innovate and create their own transcendent combat skill. Of course, the ultimate level they could reach depended on their talent and luck.

Someone with a solid foundation, high talent, and good luck might even create a transcendent combat skill more exquisite than Victor’s Raging Tide Combat Technique.

It was worth mentioning that the Randall family’s log rafts did not follow the Goldwater River’s current east. Instead, they turned south at the Great River Bend.

The log rafts were certainly not as fast as high-ranking ants running on land. If the Spider Lady led the high-ranking ants in pursuit along the Goldwater River’s North Shore, She would only need to outpace the rafts, then choose a narrow stretch of the river, cut down some trees for simple boats, and She could easily intercept the Randell family’s small fleet.

Victor was not yet certain if the Spider Lady could truly track his position via Alchemy Tower No. 7, but there was no need to gamble with his own life and those of his allies.

The Great River Bend, as wide as a sea-lake, was the best barrier. By sailing the log rafts south, the Spider Lady would have to pursue by boat if she wanted to intercept Victor, which would negate Her speed advantage on land. As long as they could hold out for more than ten days, Victor and the others would have essentially escaped.

Victor believed that the Spider Lady’s walking Incarnation truly couldn’t survive for long. The Ant-man Empress had claimed that for the Spider Lady’s Incarnation to walk the Prime Material Plane, it had to meet two conditions: first, borrow the divine nature of the Sun Elves to gain more time, and second, find a way to integrate the sacred object of the Moon Goddess Freya.

For the Spider Lady to meet these two conditions, there was actually a prerequisite: Her perfect body had to be “perfect” enough.

And what if it wasn’t perfect?

The Ant-man Empress had painstakingly managed Spirit-Devouring Island for over twenty thousand years, amassing a Soul Fire so pure and vast that it was equivalent to the undying Soul Fire of the King of the Spirit Realm. In fact, it also served as the Soul Fire unit for the Ant-man Queen Alchemy Tower.

If the Soul Fire units stored in an Alchemy Tower were too high, the Tower’s foundational structure would develop problems, causing the Soul Fire to continuously dissipate. This was the root cause of why the Rune Crystals in many Alchemy Towers were incomplete. Thus, even though the Ant-man Empress could have created millions of Ant-man units, her army was always maintained at a size of just over three hundred thousand.

If even an Alchemy Tower had a limit to its Soul Fire units, how could the Spider Lady’s perfect body be any different?

No living creature could possibly bear the immense spiritual power of Spirit-Devouring Island, and the Spider Lady’s perfect body was no exception!

The Sun Elf’s divine nature was likely used by the Spider Lady to forcibly partition Spirit-Devouring Island. But since She had already integrated the spiritual power of the island during her battle with the Dragonkin handmaiden and the holy guardian spirit, the Elemental Sea must be in the process of reclaiming the Soul Fire that exceeded the world’s natural Laws, which would lead to the collapse of Her soul and body.

Ten days. The Spider Lady’s Incarnation had a lifespan of about ten days.

Victor was willing to extend his escape timeline to twenty days. If the Spider Lady hadn’t caught up within twenty days, the log rafts could change course and head east to the Oak Prairie to rendezvous with Sylvia.

The Alchemical militia took turns rowing and sculling. The aberrant giant otters cleared a path underwater. The log rafts sailed south without pause. When they passed a small island, Imoson the Wizard tamed a dozen blue-beaked ospreys and released them into the sky as spies, but they never spotted any Ant-man vessels.

As time went on, everyone became more and more relaxed. Even the strategy of separating the two rafts to sacrifice the tail to save the head was no longer strictly enforced.

Imoson, Blood Python Macy, Swordsman Tao De, Red Wolf Wolf, and Rogers—these few had less emotional control than the knights. Worrying that the enemy would catch up had prevented them from properly learning the combat techniques Victor had taught them. Now, they brought their sword-wielding handmaidens to seek the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s guidance.

With ospreys monitoring the river from the sky, they could evade any trouble in time, so Victor allowed them to sponge off him for food and drink on his raft.

On the twelfth day of their escape, the log rafts crossed the Great River Bend and approached the South Shore of the Goldwater River. The Fish-head Fiends on the bank became clearly visible.

The aberrant giant otters protecting the rafts were now four or five meters long, their bodies as thick as oak barrels and their tempers ferocious and violent, but they were still not qualified to challenge the Fish-head Fiends, the overlords of the riverbend’s shallows.

The two log rafts had no choice but to change course again, continuing east along the line separating the deep and shallow waters.

About half a day later, the fleet discovered a tributary of the Goldwater River on the South Shore. This river led to the untamed Southern Continent. Its mouth was wide, over sixty kilometers across, and it was a deep-water area that the Fish-head Fiends were unwilling to enter.

Victor considered it for a moment and decided they weren’t completely out of danger yet. He ordered the fleet to enter the deep waters of the tributary. They would wait a few days, and if nothing happened, it wouldn’t be too late to return the way they came. Moreover, the expeditionary force could take this opportunity to go ashore, replenish their supplies, and give the rafts an overhaul.

Normally, Fish-head Fiends wouldn’t venture deep into the Goldwater River’s tributaries. The aquatic resources there were insufficient to sustain a safe number for a Fish-head Fiend clan; at most, they would be active near the tributary’s mouth. As long as the Randell Expeditionary Force’s fleet entered this tributary, they were sure to find a place to land.

As evening fell, the two rafts entered the tributary’s mouth one after another. Thinking they would soon be able to go ashore and rest, everyone was in high spirits. Charlotte even took out their small remaining stock of beast oil and fruit wine to prepare a special dinner.

The unique aroma of the beast oil attracted two foodies. Beldina and Aka rode aberrant giant otters from the front raft to the rear one.

“Charlotte, I want grilled fish,” Beldina called out as soon as she boarded the raft.

The golden-haired female knight sighed in resignation, taking a four-foot-long white-bellied salmon from the big simpleton’s hands. As she turned her back to Beldina, she rolled her eyes in exasperation, a gesture that Victor happened to see.

The front raft not only had beast oil and fruit wine but also Caligula, a master chef. Beldina bringing Aka over wasn’t for grilled fish at all; it was to get closer to Victor.

Sure enough, while Charlotte and Caligula went to prepare the grilled salmon, Beldina skipped over to Victor’s side and began to act cute in front of her handsome Master.

The Chosen One girl often waded through water, so her attire was very light: a thin bodice and shorts tailored to her thighs, revealing a slender, soft waist like a young seedling and a pair of long, shapely, snow-white legs. Her pointed ears, dark eyes, and delicate features made her look a perfect match for the black-haired, black-eyed Victor.

Beldina, who was actually twenty-seven years old, seemed able to freeze time. In her childhood, she was a greedy, playful little chubster, but upon entering her teens, her interest in Victor had far surpassed her interest in food. More than a decade of girlish feelings seemed to have erupted like a suddenly awakened volcano, projecting all its molten-hot passion onto Victor.

Victor sat cross-legged on a wooden rack, explaining the difficulties his Ferocious Warriors encountered in their training. Beldina, with her small, exquisite, snow-white feet bare, curled her long legs and sat obediently by Victor’s side. She skillfully displayed the graceful curves of her body, her ability to reveal a girl’s charming innocence and allure practically self-taught. Everyone couldn’t help but sigh; that adorably invincible little girl had finally grown up. No wonder My Lady Charlotte was guarding against her as if she were a thief.

Charlotte prepared dinner with exceptional speed that evening. In no time, the fragrant grilled salmon was portioned onto plates and brought before Beldina.

Beldina’s table manners, however, were uncharacteristically elegant. She took a full hour and a half to finish a small portion of scaleless, boneless grilled salmon.

By now, the last rays of the setting sun had faded, and a bright silver moon cast its cold, ethereal glow across the dark purple sky. Charlotte personally collected Beldina’s plate and said with a frosty expression, “It’s dark. You and Aka should go back and sleep.”

Beldina hugged Victor’s arm and shook her head. “No, I want to rest here tonight.”

Charlotte narrowed her eyes slightly and said coolly, “This raft is full. There’s no room for you to sleep.”

Water seeped through the cracks in the log raft’s bottom, so the Alchemical militia had installed many wooden racks on it. Passengers either slept on the racks or lay on top of the cabin.

The racks were full, but there was still space to rest on the cabin roof. However, everyone was wise enough not to get involved in the dispute between My Lady Charlotte and Beldina. Even Imoson the Wizard pretended to be deaf and dumb. As her father, he was genuinely unwilling to see his precious daughter be swept away by His Highness Randell, even if Victor never chased after women—they were the ones who chased after him.

Seeing no one come to her support, Beldina turned to Victor, shaking his arm and pleading sweetly, “Master, Bel has rendered meritorious service. You have to reward me! And I want to ask you about the Myriad Phenomena Primal Method.”

Beldina had not only summoned a Legendary Guardian Spirit, doing Victor a huge favor, but during the time Imoson the Wizard was unconscious, she had also taken her father’s place, controlling the aberrant giant otters to tow the rafts and sail swiftly.

She had indeed performed a great service.

Victor, with a calm expression, extracted his arm from the Chosen One girl’s embrace, which made Charlotte’s face soften. He then smiled and patted Beldina’s head, nodding. “You should be rewarded… Darling, please help me bring those three treasures over.”

Previously, Charlotte, in her conviction to live or die with her lover, had wanted to monopolize Victor’s final moments for herself. Now that the situation seemed to have turned from dangerous to safe, Charlotte’s meek, accepting personality re-emerged. Her glares at Beldina were born merely of feminine jealousy and a subtle desire to establish her own rank, not out of a genuine wish to stop the prodigiously talented young Shamaness from courting their liege lord.

The sworn female knight gave Victor a bewitching smile, then turned and leaped down into the cabin, finding the two sets of Legendary-grade divine artifacts, “Heart of the Fey Queen” and “Death’s Twin Wings,” and handing them directly to Beldina.

Chapter 900: Falling from a Miracle (Part 1)

The two sets of divine artifacts in the School of Life’s collection both looked rather unremarkable. The “Heart of the Fey Queen” was slightly better; it had the appearance of an ancient carved wooden ornament. Though the craftsmanship was crude, its natural grain was distinct and beautiful, growing more captivating the longer one looked at it. The “Death’s Twin Wings” had a much poorer appearance. They seemed to be a pair of sickle-shaped bone blades taken from some kind of monster. The bone was dry and dull, its mottled surface covered in cracks, and the serrated edges of the blades were chipped and incomplete.

This pair of sickle-shaped bone blades was ugly and ferocious in appearance, and a semi-damaged set of weapons at that. Yet who could have imagined that holding these bone-blade sickles would give the Ant-man Empress the confidence to kill a Sun Elf in a direct confrontation?

Beldina casually tossed the unsightly “Death’s Twin Wings” onto a wooden rack and carefully cupped the “Heart of the Fey Queen” in both hands. A crystalline light shone in her eyes as she murmured, “It’s so beautiful… Master, is this really a gift for me?”

Victor nodded and said, “It’s said to be a treasure that is only useful to Wizards, called the ‘Heart of the Fey Queen.’ Its history can be traced back to ancient times, but as for its specific use and how to wield it, you’ll have to explore that for yourself.”

Back then, the Ant-man Empress’s introduction of the “Heart of the Fey Queen” had been just her side of the story. Her main goal was to mislead Victor, lower his guard, and then find an opportunity to slay him with “Death’s Twin Wings.” Victor had not seen the various effects of the “Heart of the Fey Queen” that the Ant-man Empress had described, so he remained skeptical.

He reminded Beldina, “The ‘Heart of the Fey Queen’ is indeed for you, but none of us know how to use it, nor are we aware of the risks it might bring. So you must prepare first. It would be best to wait until we return to Randell Fief and study it slowly…”

As if she hadn’t heard Victor’s words, Beldina said with a dazed look in her eyes, “I think I know how…”

As she spoke, she silently cast a Touch of Chaos without any warning. Even Victor didn’t think to stop her. He only saw the surface of the “Heart of the Fey Queen,” cradled in Beldina’s palms, crack open. A soft light seeped through the fissures, as if a life was being born inside, breaking through the wooden shell. It transformed into a ball of white light and sank into Beldina’s palm.

Such a magical scene drew gasps of amazement from everyone on the raft. Beldina, however, seemed oblivious. She blinked, the corners of her mouth curling up slightly. Her bright smile revealed a trace of proud, extraordinary temperament, but it instantly returned to normal, her smile once again filled with mischief and joy. The change in her disposition seemed to have been an illusion.

Imoson the Wizard, worried sick about his daughter, rushed over, reaching out to grab Beldina’s arm. “Bel, are you alright?” he asked anxiously. “How do you feel? Do you feel uncomfortable anywhere?”

The Chosen One girl turned nimbly, neatly avoiding Imoson the Wizard’s fingers, and then smoothly looped her arm through Victor’s, standing on her tiptoes to kiss the corner of his lips.

The sneak attack succeeded…. Beldina was overjoyed. She hugged Victor, pressing her blushing face against his chest, and said in a slightly shy, sweet voice, “Thank you, Master. I love this gift so much.”

Everyone looked at each other, still not having recovered from the shock of the moment. Only Caligula bent over, tracing his own cheek with a thick finger, and teased Beldina with a grin, “Bel, shameless. Bel, shameless.”

Beldina, both shy and angry, blushed and jumped up to chase after the big simpleton who dared to laugh at her.

Victor frowned slightly, then relaxed. He was suppressing his own abilities, but avoiding the young Wizard’s stolen kiss would have been an easy matter. Beldina’s abrupt change had made him hesitate, and he had used the physical contact to perceive her condition instead.

Other than her heartbeat quickening and her skin growing warmer, Bel seemed to be fine.

Most people grew up gradually, but Beldina’s growth was saltational. The sudden eruption of a young girl’s affections leading to unusually bold behavior could be considered normal. Once she adapted to the drastic changes in her body and mind, she would naturally learn how to control her emotions.

However, for a very brief moment when the Chosen One girl was integrating with the divine artifact, her temperament and demeanor had made her seem like a completely different person. That air of detachedly looking down on all creation made Victor worry that something was wrong with Beldina.

But even Caligula hadn’t noticed anything unusual about Bel and was still joking with her. Victor thought there was no need to worry for the time being, but Imoson chased after her, grabbed the blushing Beldina, and chided her urgently, “You… why are you running around? Where’s that wooden ornament from just now? Can you change it back?”

Beldina pouted, forcefully breaking free from her father’s grasp. She jumped back to Victor’s side and said unhappily, “No… This is a treasure from Master. Father, don’t even think about tricking me out of it.” As she spoke, she first made a face at Imoson, then hid behind Victor, seeking her Master’s protection.

Victor shot the flustered and exasperated Wizard a look, then turned slightly and asked Beldina with a pleasant expression, “Can you change it back?”

The girl’s eyes darted around as she said pitifully, “I can’t change it back… It just suddenly disappeared, I can’t find it either.”

She was obviously lying.

Far from being angry, Victor simply smiled and nodded. “If you can’t find it, then forget it. But you were too rash just now, you didn’t even wait for me to finish speaking.”

Beldina stuck out her little tongue and said coquettishly, “Master is the best.”

Victor curled his index finger and tapped her lightly on the head. “Try it out,” he said. “What’s changed about your abilities?”

Bel first rubbed the top of her head, then casually picked up a half-full cup of fruit wine from the wooden rack and said with a hint of excitement, “I’m going to turn it into fine wine.”

A faint green light surged from her slender, fair fingers, covering the ceramic cup. A light yet far-reaching fragrance quietly spread as the reddish-brown fruit wine in the cup turned into an amber-colored liquor.

Beldina presented the ceramic cup to Victor, her big eyes full of expectation.

“Let me try.”

Charlotte, who was standing nearby, rushed to take the cup. She first brought it to her nose and sniffed, then took a small sip, feeling a sweet and sour taste spread across the tip of her tongue. She put the cup down and nodded in appraisal. “The taste is mellow and rich, full of vitality and freshness, with a texture as smooth as spider silk… This is a top-tier fruit wine, hmm, at least ten years old.”

The fruit wine made by the alchemical militia was intended for easy storage, and its quality could only be described as crude, containing many impurities. It could hardly even be called wine. After Beldina’s touch, the inferior fruit wine had transformed into a top-tier fine wine. This change seemed insignificant, but her spell had in effect stolen ten years of time.

After Victor tasted it himself, he couldn’t help but exclaim, “It’s simply a miracle.”

Beldina lifted her glowing face and said proudly, “Master taught me that the Touch of Chaos has a high standing but a low level, and that it must follow the natural changes of the Laws to produce astonishing effects. I can’t turn fruit wine into a disgusting Dragon’s Vein Potion, but turning it into fine wine is very simple. From now on, the Touch of Chaos will be renamed the Touch of Miracle… and you all shouldn’t call me ‘Lucky Bel’ anymore, just call me ‘Beldina, the Queen of Miracles.’”

What was the difference between luck and a miracle?

For example, if you took a hundred-question multiple-choice test without knowing a single answer, and yet managed to guess every single one correctly, that was called luck. If you were profoundly knowledgeable and answered all one hundred, or even one thousand, multiple-choice questions correctly, whether you did it once or ten times, that was called creating a miracle.

Luck would run out one day. If a person wanted to create miracles, what they needed to grasp was not luck, but strength.

Perhaps Beldina was still a long way from the title of “Queen of Miracles,” but she had revealed her intentions—she no longer planned to rely on luck, but to become a truly powerful individual.

She had been unable to act of her own free will many times during this expedition and had surely encountered many irreparable regrets to have reached this realization today… Beldina was truly beginning to transform… Victor thought silently, casually picking up the tattered bone blades that Bel had discarded and hanging them from his belt.

In truth, Death’s Twin Wings were particularly suitable for Beldina. The vast amount of spirit essence she had collected could provide a continuous stream of power to this “living” divine artifact, allowing it to display its terrifying might without the need to sacrifice powerful lives. Moreover, Wizards of this era needed excellent martial skills; otherwise, they could easily be killed by enemies before they even had a chance to cast a spell.

The best example was the Chosen One Archwizard Blair from over fifteen hundred years ago. She had once used a single finger to catch the sword tip of the first Inquisitor-General, Bethel Testier, and only then had she defeated the legendary paladin. If she hadn’t been able to block Bethel’s heart-piercing strike, she would have been the one to die.

Without a doubt, Blair must have been a very powerful warrior, a fact that was merely overshadowed by her fame as an Archwizard.

Victor had emphasized the importance of martial skills to the two family Wizards more than once. But he couldn’t watch over Imosen and Beldina as they practiced their combat techniques and secret arts all the time. The father and daughter often slacked off, and their personal martial skills were mediocre at best. They couldn’t even defeat the most ordinary Crouching Ox Militiaman, utterly wasting many precious resources.

Victor had originally planned to highlight the properties of “Death’s Twin Wings” and use this opportunity to get Beldina to mend her ways. But as the Chosen One girl was showing her talent for the first time today, it wasn’t appropriate for Victor to lecture her and risk damaging her confidence. Furthermore, Victor found something strange about Beldina’s integration with the “Heart of the Fey Queen.” To be safe, he should observe her for a while before considering giving her “Death’s Twin Wings.”

“My lord Victor, My lord Victor, look ahead!” Narsen’s cry came through the wind and waves.

Victor looked up and leaped to the highest point of the raft. He saw countless points of light under the surface of the tributary on the south bank of the Goldwater River, swimming towards the Great River Bend.

The specks of fluorescent light in the water shone in harmony with the silver moon in the sky, like a ribbon with no visible end, calmly surging into the wide river mouth.

The magnificent and spectacular, bizarrely beautiful scene left everyone dumbfounded. They watched the ribbon of light draw closer without any reaction. The twenty or so aberrant giant otters, however, collectively left the raft’s vicinity and joyfully plunged into the river of light, lashing the water’s surface with their powerful tail fins, stirring up waves.

A point of light slipped past an aberrant otter and came alongside the log raft. Caligula immediately jumped to the side of the raft, plunged his hand into the water, and scooped up the point of light. He then ran back gleefully to present his treasure to Victor, saying, “Hehe, Master, it’s a big shrimp.”

The shrimp’s shell was transparent, reflecting the moonlight. It was as long as Caligula’s palm.

Imoson the Wizard leaned in for a closer look and said curiously, “I don’t recognize this kind of shrimp. It seems to be a new species not recorded in the biological atlas?”

Victor nodded. “I don’t recognize it either. It should be a type of krill, but this is the first time I’ve seen krill this big… Aka, do you think this shrimp is poisonous?”

Without a word, the Randall family’s master chef immediately peeled the shell, sucked the translucent, tender tail meat into his mouth, and replied while nodding, “Not poisonous. Tastes very good, very good.”

Red Wolf Wolf gazed at the star-dusted water’s surface and said in amazement, “So many krill, there must be millions of them, right?”

Victor smiled and said, “Our luck is good, we happened to catch the shrimp migration… There are probably over a hundred million krill here.”

The ribbon of light formed by the krill flowed towards the raft. The light waves surged under the water, like mist and clouds, and their dreamlike beauty was deeply intoxicating, as if they were in a magical dream world.

Charlotte held Victor’s arm, standing at the bow, and lamented, “It’s so beautiful. I can’t even bear to catch them.”

Victor seemed to have thought of something. The smile lines at the corners of his mouth gradually disappeared, his brow furrowed, and he suddenly shouted, “Quick! Let’s leave this area, row the rafts into the tributary!”

The alchemical militia obeyed their master’s orders without question. They rowed with all their might, commanded the Alchemical Dragon-Lizards to stop eating the krill, and urged them to drag the rafts toward the tributary at the great river’s mouth.

The two rafts suddenly picked up speed, cutting white-crested waves across the light-misted water. Charlotte was so startled her face drained of all color. She gripped the hilt of her sword and asked, “My lord, what’s happening?”

Victor’s face was grim. He shook his head and said, “A large-scale krill migration will inevitably attract numerous predators. You can’t see the Fish-head Fiends on the banks, but they’ve already entered the water. And those are just the amphibious predators from the shore. What do you think is in the deep waters of the Great River Bend?”

“Swarms of fish, and herds of Water Lizard-beasts!” Imoson the Wizard sucked in a sharp breath and jumped up, shouting, “We have to get out of this water immediately!”

Beldina glanced at her father in confusion, then turned to Victor and asked, “I remember reading in a book that shrimp-eating Water Lizards don’t eat people.”

“Fool! The swarms of fish and herds of Water Lizard-beasts will attract even fiercer carnivorous fish, and herds of Crocodile-Dragon Lizards… This place is going to turn into a battlefield! Right now, the only way out is to take refuge in the tributary before the aquatic beasts start fighting!”

Imoson roared at his precious daughter. In the distance, the long, deep calls of Water Lizard-beasts echoed across the water. His face paled instantly. He ran to the bow and ordered the aberrant giant otters to stop catching krill and return to the outriggers on the sides of the rafts to push them faster toward the tributary.

The krill migration was a god-sent feast, but also a bloody battlefield. The twenty-odd aberrant giant otters pushed the two log rafts like arrows released from a bowstring, rushing into the southern tributary of the Great River Bend just before the lakeside Fishmen could encircle them.

Under the silver moonlight, the scenes on both banks of the tributary were revealed in sharp detail. Innumerable Fishmen, chanting a babbling war song, converged on the wide waters of the river mouth.

Tonight was destined to be a turbulent night, but the Randell Expeditionary Force had no heart to watch the rare war of aquatic monsters. The two log rafts headed deeper into the tributary.

If they had been unfortunately swept into this feast-turned-war of aquatic monsters, the simple log rafts would have inevitably been overturned. But if the situation just now was so perilous, why hadn’t the Ferocious Warriors, including Aka and Narsen, given a timely warning?

Victor stood at the stern, gazing at the turbulent river mouth, lost in thought.

In fact, the answer was already obvious, yet his heart was a tranquil sea, like the river surface veiled in moonlight.

At this moment, the tributary’s surface was as smooth as a mirror, reflecting the silver moon, the rafts, and the people’s silhouettes. Palm-sized krill glided one by one beneath the calm water without disturbing the reflections. Even the ripples created when the rafts pushed through the water vanished, but the ever-receding scenery on the banks proved that the rafts were still sailing.

What was most bizarre was that the people on the rafts merely watched this phenomenon that defied common sense, and not the slightest ripple of emotion stirred in even Victor’s heart.

The cool moonlight, like fine gauze or a thin mist, brought with it tranquility and peace, smoothing the wind, the ripples on the water, and the very souls of all living things. That tranquility, seeping into the soul, had imperceptibly erased all emotions and thoughts—curiosity, the desire to fight, fear, impatience, and focus.

The rafts slowly came to a stop. The alchemical creatures pulling and rowing were also stripped of their thoughts by the soft, silvery moonlight, sinking into peace and tranquility. Everything around them seemed dreamlike, half-real and half-illusory. Victor knew clearly that this was the Spider Lady’s illusion domain affecting reality law. Even he was deeply trapped within it, to say nothing of the others on the raft. Their consciousness remained clear, but they were all staring blankly from their positions.

The Spider Lady had come, after all.

Chapter 901: Fall from a Miracle (Part 2)

A gigantic Crocodile-Lizard Dragon Beast with eyes as black as ink appeared on the river surface behind the log raft. It was the lord of the waters north of the Great River Bend, the Ferocious Crocodile-Lizard Dragon Beast, Ronironi.

He was once Beldina’s good friend, but now he had become the Spider Lady’s puppet mount, carrying her Incarnation across the Great River Bend. He had finally caught up to Victor’s raft near the mouth of a tributary on the South Shore.

The Ferocious Water Lizard swam at an extreme speed, yet its massive body did not disturb the water’s surface. It was as if the calm river itself had delivered both it and the Spider Lady it carried before Victor.

The half-spider, half-elf Lady stood on the Ferocious Water Lizard’s broad, flat back. The spider’s body seemed to be Her throne, while the completely naked Dark Elf maiden was the true Incarnation of the silver moon. Her beauty transcended the boundaries of racial perception, possessing an extraordinary charm that could alter one’s senses.

The Dark Elf maiden tilted her head, observing Victor. The corners of her mouth curled up slightly, her eyes filled with curiosity and a wisp of affection sweet enough to melt one’s heart, as if she were looking at a Fiancé she had never met.

Victor’s thoughts had been suppressed by an invisible silence, but the pre-set X-3 activated on its own, weakening the Spider Lady’s extraordinary charm to its absolute minimum. However, within Her night-black eyes were a pair of dark gold pupils, which left a profound mark deep within Victor’s mind that even the X-3 could not erase.

Victor had imagined how the Spider Lady might make her entrance. Even if Her arrival was accompanied by landslides, tsunamis, and the dimming of the sun and moon, it would not have been surprising. But this tranquil illusionary realm that altered reality was ten thousand times more terrifying than any natural disaster.

The serene moonlight, the tranquil illusion, and the mental charm coalesced into a massive domain that covered a vast area and penetrated the minds of all living things. Perhaps calling it a divine domain would be more fitting for the position of an ancient demonic god.

The alchemical creatures, Biological Aberrations, Knights, Ferocious warriors, priests of the Lord of Radiance, Wizards, and sword-wielding handmaidens had all stopped thinking and lost their ability to act. The water monsters and Fishmen gathered at the river mouth were also unusually calm, clearly under the influence of the Spider Lady’s divine domain. Right now, even if someone were to slaughter them with a knife, they likely would not resist.

The powerful instinct of a living being’s fear of death had been stripped away. The Spider Lady was truly worthy of being the Moon Goddess Freya’s incarnation of death.

But how could Creator Taelon Ruier allow such a mighty power to challenge His own will?

There was only one possibility: the Spider Lady’s Incarnation was dying. The Prime Material Plane was reclaiming the power that did not belong to Her and expelling her will. Therefore, She was extravagantly squandering the soul power of Spirit-Devouring Island to cast this high-level divine domain of tranquility.

With an indifferent gaze, Victor bowed to the Spider Lady in respect, speaking without a hint of emotion, “Lady, it is my supreme honor to meet you. You control the Ferocious Water Lizard and could have intercepted me earlier, yet you allowed me to enter the rivers of the Southern Continent before revealing yourself. Your purpose confuses me, but I believe the Sun Elf’s divine nature can no longer save this Incarnation of yours.”

The Spider Lady smiled gently and spoke in the common tongue of the ancient Alchemical Empire, “Over twenty thousand years ago, my situation in the Abyss was dire. The ancient demons who believed that all things return to one attacked the Kingdom of Hell that I and two other demon sovereigns had established. My husband in the mortal world was deeply worried. He feared I would perish at the hands of those ancient demons, so he prepared this Incarnation for me on the Prime Material Plane.”

“Fortunately, the Kingdom of Hell had the protection of the great Earth Mother Goddess, who presides over procreation and life. Amidst the internal strife of the Abyss, I was able to emerge victorious. I have fulfilled my mission. This Incarnation is superfluous to me, and returning it to the Elemental Sea is in accordance with Taelon Ruier’s will.”

Victor’s X-3 automatically stored the Secret History revealed by the Spider Lady and, following a pre-set response plan, he said, “Great Lady, you have already integrated with the Ant-man Empress’s spirit body, so you should be aware that I possess an Alchemy Tower Rune Crystal. It can store pure, undying Soul Fire. Since the Sun Elf’s divine nature can no longer save this Incarnation of yours, I have a proposal…”

“The divine nature of the Sun God is now inseparable from me, but my life will one day reach its end—two or three hundred years at most. At that time, the immortal divine nature of the Sun God will surely be unsealed once more. I hope you will permit me to temporarily safeguard the Sun God’s divine nature. In exchange, I am willing to use Alchemy Tower No. 7 to store the pure Soul Fire from Spirit-Devouring Island for you, preventing this precious soul power from being reclaimed by the Elemental Sea. When you have need of it, I will return it to you, or to a being of your designation.”

The Spider Lady’s smile was sweet, her dark-gold eyes fixed on Victor’s. Her ethereal voice was like flowing moonlight. “Angelina thinks His Highness Randall is cunning and deceitful, but I know just how terrifying His Highness Randall truly is… All living beings have submitted to my authority of serenity, yet His Highness Randell alone remains unaffected… The serpent of the Abyss, where all things return to one; the bird of light, with a billion incarnations; the ape of creation, without thought or contemplation. You have touched the realm of being without thought or contemplation. No wonder you can suppress the Sun God’s divine nature with the body of a mortal. No wonder you can ignore the divine domain’s enhancement from ‘Freya’s Tear’ and manipulate the Sun God’s divine nature to transcend the restrictions of the Laws…”

“A mere mortal dares to enslave the great divine nature of the Sun God? This is unacceptable, and it cannot be tolerated! Arrogant Randall, on behalf of the silver moon, I shall destroy you…”

The Spider Lady’s gaze pierced straight into Victor’s dark, profound pupils. The Sun Elf bloodline, suppressed to its limit by The Scales of the Mind, uncontrollably awakened within him. Every cell in his body cheered, merging with the tranquil moonlight. The transformation of his life was now unstoppable; his black hair and eyes turned a brilliant gold. Victor could clearly feel the process of change in his body and mind, but his surroundings seemed to have been paused by some force. Even the schools of krill swimming underwater had frozen. Time and space here seemed to have congealed at a single point.

Victor had experienced this situation many times before; it was not unfamiliar. The Apocalypse of X-3 could accelerate his mental activity a hundredfold, creating the illusion that time was slowing down. However, he was not using Apocalypse now. The source of this frozen time and space was actually the Spider Lady—or more precisely, the pure Soul Fire She was transmitting. It had shattered Victor’s own mental balance, awakening his suppressed Sun Elf bloodline and causing him to enter a mental state that surpassed Apocalypse.

The continuously climbing spiritual power pushed Victor’s perception beyond the limits of his life form, allowing him to see another side of the world from a “divine perspective,” including elements, souls, and even scenes from past time and space. In that instant, Victor understood all the mysteries of what had just transpired.

The Ant-man Empress had originally replaced the Tower Spirit of the Ant-man queen Alchemy Tower, and She had a connection channel to Victor’s Alchemy Tower No. 7. The Spider Lady had used this channel between the Alchemy Towers to pour the immense spirit essence from Spirit-Devouring Island into Victor’s tower.

Due to the influx of Soul Fire from Spirit-Devouring Island, the Soul Fire units stored in Alchemy Tower No. 7 instantly reached its upper limit of fifty thousand points. But this was not the Spider Lady’s goal. The overflowing pure spirit essence then entered his soul through the connection between Victor and Alchemy Tower No. 7, continuously reinforcing his Spirit attribute, raising it from 48 to 85.

The explosive increase in spiritual power caused one of Victor’s thoughts to gain an independent personality. The continuous influx of spirit essence maintained its stability, allowing “him” to observe the changes in his surroundings from a third-person, observer’s perspective, including his own bloodline, soul, and the memories of the past on the Will Side of his soul.

The observer Victor watched as, more than ten years ago, the Briatte family’s Great Knight Austin wielded his longsword, effortlessly slaughtering the Alchemical militia that besieged him. In the distance, his past self raised a military heavy crossbow, gathered the void wind element, and pulled the trigger. An indigo streak of light shot through Austin’s head. Austin’s eyes, in the moment before death, were filled with confusion and disbelief. He transmitted a message to the observer Victor:

How could you kill me? How could you kill a Great Knight of the Kingdom?

In the next memory, Sylvia personally rushed to Laketon and hastily summoned the Royal Capital tax collectors who had witnessed the family duel. The beautiful and elegant Lady Rose frequently raised her cup, warmly greeting each tax collector’s Family Guardian and accurately stating their names. The Royal Capital’s tax collectors were overwhelmed by the favor, a stark contrast to Sylvia’s smile. But the observer Victor saw the Spirit Knight swallowing her pride and making concessions, all because her paramour had openly killed a Silver Knight of the kingdom, making a grave mistake!

In the bedroom of Rose Manor, Sylvia sat on the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s lap, her slender, beautiful arms wrapped around his neck. Her gaze was gentle as she said in a soft, gentle voice, “My dear Lord Sword Saint, I have just had a private manor built. From now on, Catelyn and Enbise can handle the daily affairs of the Centaur Hills. You can hand over the management of the Randell Fief to Nicole. We can both move into that manor and never be apart again, how does that sound?”

The observer Victor saw his own reluctance and the trace of worry hidden beneath Sylvia’s gentle gaze.

The observer also saw Father Miller saying sternly, “Stop, you have touched the domain of a god!”

He then saw the Ant-man Empress calmly telling the Raging Wind Sword Saint, “His Highness Randall, you are overconfident…”

Overconfidence is arrogance!

Yes, the observer recognized Victor’s arrogance. Even when he was weak and showed humility and obedience, he had secretly fantasized about one day pinning the Spirit Knight beneath him and casting the Radiant Church into the dust. This arrogance stemmed from him, a transmigrator, viewing the intelligent beings of this other world as mere natives. He had failed to notice that the Spirit Knight, Legendary Knights, and Gold Knights all used their extraordinary powers and ruler’s authority with caution. And Father Miller, with his Demigod standing, simply disguised his identity and never revealed himself.

Arrogance inevitably leads to tyranny, ignorance, and fearlessness. If a powerful extraordinary being lacks a heart of reverence for the world and acts in a forceful and tyrannical manner, what chance do other beings have to live?

Kognoris, whose body was composed of flames, had asked the Raging Wind Sword Saint, “Every intelligent species is a differentiated thought of Creator Taelon Ruier. Some like you, some fear you, some loathe you, some hate you. These are all different attitudes of the world’s will towards you. Have you ever considered the consequences of refusing the world’s will’s invitation?”

The Raging Wind Sword Saint was a Highness of the human kingdoms. The Knight-Nobles obeyed his authority, the Radiant Church sang of his merits, and the subjects of the Gambis Kingdom saw him as their invincible Guardian. But what about the Centaurs? The Goblins? The Gnolls? The Ogres? The Bear-monsters? And the ancient Elves…

The observer Victor now saw even more clearly that the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s arrogance was not of his own volition. Some mysterious power had clouded his perception, pushing him step by step to where he was today.

…He saw fate as an opponent, yet knew not to revere it. He constantly created miracles, only to fall from them, simply because he had always been within the river of fate and had never escaped it.

Caligula originally had a chance to expel the Spider Lady, but the Raging Wind Sword Saint rejected Miller’s arrangement. As the observer Victor saw it now, his pity for Caligula was, in its own way, a rebellion against fate. Unfortunately, he had been completely unaware of this at the time, his mind clouded by some power of fate.

The terminus of all things returning to one is the world reverting to chaos; a billion incarnations will inevitably exhaust the last trace of power from the fire elemental sea; and to be without thought or contemplation represents the pan-conscious ocean of the mind, the highest spiritual realm. The observer Victor was currently in this state of being without thought or contemplation. He understood everything that was happening to him and could also comprehend the source of the Spider Lady’s anger.

A hero slays an evil dragon, and the populace spreads the word, singing of his heroic deeds. But in the eyes of an Ancient God, killing a dragon is no different from killing a rabbit; both are the withering of life. The Spider Lady considered His Highness Randall terrifying because he suppressed the Sun God’s divine nature with a mortal’s heart. This was ten thousand times more terrifying than him slaying the Black Blood Sovereign’s perfect body.

The Spider Lady could not accept this phenomenon, much less tolerate His Highness Randall’s contempt for the Sun God’s divine nature. She would abandon an Incarnation just to destroy the source of this terror.

Of course, the Spider Lady did not want to destroy Victor himself; She wanted to destroy the X-3.

In fact, the X-3 from Earth had helped Victor touch upon the realm of being without thought or contemplation long ago. For others, being without thought or contemplation meant zoning out, but the Overlimit of X-3 referred to the Spirit transcending the limitations of the body and soul. If Victor did not have the X-3, there would be no knowledge jigsaw puzzle, no Mind Bloodline secret art, no Twin Talent Tree, and no Scales of the Mind capable of mastering the Sun God’s divine nature.

Victor had once tried to analyze the mysteries of the X-3 and replicate it through the Mind Bloodline secret art, but his attempts had all failed without exception. Therefore, the unique X-3 was an anomaly to the World of Taelon Ruier.

The Spider Lady was now erasing this anomaly, and She did not care whether its host lived or died.

As the pure spirit essence poured into his soul, it also brought with it a massive number of complex and chronologically jumbled Memory Bubbles, which continuously battered the Will Side of Victor’s soul.

The Ant-man Empress had said she would leave Victor a precious gift. She had kept her word, but this gift was too heavy for Victor’s soul to bear. Even though the Raging Wind Sword Saint’s soul was exceptionally resilient and could resist most soul damage, the Ant-man Empress’s Memory Bubbles were a bestowal, not a destructive attack. They bypassed the soul’s protective shell and reassembled his Will Side from within.

The intense shock of the chaotic information made the functioning of his original soul slow and clumsy. He had no way to reclaim even a single point of Soul Fire from the Alchemy Tower Rune Crystal, and thus could not sever the mental connection with the Spider Lady.

The observer Victor was helpless. He had no superfluous thoughts, nor did he possess the emotions of a living individual. He just calmly watched as the point of light representing the X-3 flickered precariously, on the verge of complete collapse.

Fortunately, Victor’s original self had not given up the struggle. Or rather, a priority setting in the X-3 was automatically executing the Soul-locking secret technique, swapping Victor’s conscious and subconscious minds. It also buried the Ant-man Empress’s Memory Bubbles, to be dealt with once the conscious mind could reorganize the memory information and release the soul lock.

This was an emergency measure Victor used to protect his soul. Its side effect would cause Victor to become an idiot, temporarily.

The problem was that the information in the Ant-man Empress’s Memory Bubbles far exceeded the limits of what Victor’s Spirit attribute could bear, even with his current Spirit attribute of 85.

The observer Victor watched helplessly as his own soul collapsed. The X-3 disintegrated first, and the Twin Talent Tree, having lost its core, also fell apart.

Just as an idiot cannot flexibly control his own fingers, Victor could no longer finely control his own Bloodline talents.

The High Elf bloodline and human bloodline stacked chaotically. The abundant water element in his body began to escape. His sun-like golden hair turned yellow, and the light in his dark gold pupils faded, turning into the brownish-green common among ordinary people.

It mattered little that Victor had lost the power of a Sanctuary-rank expert. The crucial thing was that his fall was now inevitably happening.

“No, don’t… Tutor Angelina, I beg you, spare my Master!”

Suddenly, Victor saw Beldina break free from the divine domain of tranquility. She cried out in grief, striving to extend her fingers to touch his physical body.

The moment the young Chosen One touched Victor, the Purple Gold Coin amulet hanging on Victor’s chest burst forth with a platinum-gold Holy Light. Countless divine runes wrapped around his body layer by layer.

The positive-natured divine power forcibly severed the soul connection between the Spider Lady and Victor, but his body’s condition did not improve. It was still heading towards soul-disintegration.

However, the observer Victor was a spirit body forcibly created from the pure Soul Fire of Spirit-Devouring Island. His spiritual strength had also reached the soul’s limit, and he was in a mental state of being without thought or contemplation. When the transfer of Soul Fire was interrupted, he immediately gained his freedom, returned to the depths of his original soul, and instantly awakened the three heads of Poltanos. The snake head representing the earth element, the most stable in nature, took dominant control of the conscious mind, forming a solid closed loop to prevent any of the Spider Lady’s subsequent “gifts.”

The phenomenon of soul collapse stopped, and Victor lost his self-awareness. Influenced by the Poltanos Secret Art, his appearance transformed into that of a half-elf with brown hair and amber eyes.

The Spider Lady could still have acted personally to end Victor’s life. But She did not. Instead, She turned her gaze to Beldina, who was kneeling on the raft and holding Victor, and said with a smile, “Queen of Miracles, I acknowledge this as your name. You asked me to stop, and I have fulfilled your wish…. Queen of Miracles, the contract has been made. I now require you to go to the Southern Continent and do something for me… We will meet again.”

The half-spider, half-elf demon bloomed with a four-colored radiance. The four great elements dispersed into the air, and the Spider Lady’s Incarnation gradually faded into nothingness, leaving not a single trace behind. But on Beldina’s smooth forehead, a tiny spider-shaped mark had been imprinted.

Victor was oblivious to all of this. He was hidden deep within his own soul, busy reorganizing the Memory Bubbles and the knowledge jigsaw puzzle. There was no telling how long it would take for him to reshape the Will Side of his soul and return to normal.

Narsen and the others snapped out of their daze. They were horrified to find that the raft had somehow drifted back to the tributary’s mouth. The surrounding water monsters were packed densely together. As if on a single command, they began to thrash their thick tail fins, striking the underwater krill swarms and kicking up monstrous waves. The two rafts were instantly swept far apart.

“Miracle!”

Beldina’s eyes were cold, her expression proud as she issued the command. Then, as if she had used up all her strength, her slender body swayed a few times and she fell stiffly onto the raft.

Miraculously, the two log rafts remained intact amidst the violent waves. One raft was lifted by a wall of water and swept toward the depths of the Great River Bend; the raft carrying Beldina and Victor was pushed by wave after wave back into the tributary on the South bank of the Goldwater River.

The serene, cold moonlight shone through a small window on the second floor of the church in Laketon’s cemetery, casting itself upon Miller’s face. In the interplay of light and shadow, the old priest’s wrinkles seemed even more profound.

After a soft sigh, Miller shook his head helplessly. He turned to the side and reached out to touch the priest’s robes beside him. They were folded neatly, lying quietly at the head of the bed. The head priest of the Randell Fief was dressed in coarse flaxen clothes for a long journey. He picked up his already packed luggage and an old traveler’s staff, stood up, and walked to the door. Just as he was about to push it open quietly, he hesitated. Finally, he shoved the oak door open forcefully and shouted towards a bedroom down the Passageway, “Joseph, Joseph, come here, quickly.”

The priest’s servant hurried out of his room, not even having had time to light a candle. He couldn’t see Miller clearly standing inside the doorway, but he asked respectfully, “Esteemed master, you called for me?”

“Go to the kitchen and bring me that plate of raw beef.”

The servant was perplexed by the priest’s request. “Esteemed master, it’s so late. What do you need raw beef for?”

“Just go when I tell you to! Why so many questions?!” The usually kind and amiable old priest suddenly became irritable. He slammed the door with a bang, shutting the servant who had served him for several months outside.

The honest and dutiful Joseph ultimately did not dare to disobey a priest of the Supreme Lord. He groped his way downstairs in the dark to find the raw beef in the kitchen.

Not long after, the oak door was pushed open from the outside. A slender, graceful figure holding a plate walked silently into the room.

A hooded cloak concealed the visitor’s face, but her hands were long and fair, breathtakingly beautiful under the moonlight.

Father Miller sat at the table, watching the uninvited guest sit down in the chair opposite him. He couldn’t help but sigh, “We shouldn’t be meeting… Your Highness, the esteemed Sylvia.”

“I was afraid Your Excellency would flee during the night. So, please forgive my rudeness,” Sylvia’s voice was very pleasant, but it carried a cold severity.

Sweat beaded on Miller’s forehead. He pressed his lips together firmly and said, “Victor is not dead.”

“Mm.” Sylvia nodded, pushing the plate of raw beef in front of the God-favored. Her tone unchanging, she said, “My love is not dead, but he has vanished from my Perception. I would like to ask Your Excellency, what does this mean?”

Miller stared blankly at the raw beef, with its coarse muscle texture and vibrant red color. After a long while, he looked up and said, “Actually, I don’t know what exactly Victor has encountered… However, I am willing to do my best to explain. It’s just that you and I have different views on fate, and it will be difficult for us to accept each other’s perspectives. So we should borrow Victor’s point of view. That way, we can both understand.”

Sylvia chuckled lightly, raising a delicate eyebrow. “For example, this piece of raw beef?”

“This piece of raw beef… it’s very nutritious.” Miller tried hard to explain, “The apprentice retainers of the Randall family have to eat a piece of raw beef like this every day. An ordinary person’s teeth can’t chew through raw beef at all; it must be cooked before it can be eaten. But the apprentice retainers eat it raw. Victor said this would give them strong muscles… I asked Victor, if eating raw beef can strengthen a soldier’s physique, why not just sew the raw beef directly onto the soldier? Isn’t that much more convenient than cooking and eating it? Victor replied that these are the Laws, which no one can change… Well, he didn’t understand my intention back then. He should have a personal understanding of it now.”

Sylvia was silent for a long time before nodding slightly. “I understand… In that case, how do I find My love?”

Miller shook his head, saying gravely, “Great Divination is not omniscient. Under Your Highness’s cover, I have already done my utmost, but some extraordinary being personally intervened. That is already far beyond the scope of Great Divination’s authority. However, Great Divination did give a hint before, that Victor would be stranded on the barbaric Southern Continent. It’s just that I ultimately failed to change this turning point of fate… If Your Highness hopes to reunite with Victor in the future, I suggest you do not actively seek him out, because your actions will inevitably distort the Great Divination and bring about unforeseeable consequences.”

“Are you saying Victor will come looking for me?” Sylvia’s eyes lit up as she pressed, “Around what time, and where?”

Miller shook his head and sighed, then sighed and shook his head again. He evaded the question, “If you hadn’t come to trouble me, I would have stayed hidden in the Randell Fief. Since Your Highness has now seen me, I must leave… I plan to go to the Eastern Alliance and find a small church to settle in. That is a place of hope, and also my final resting place.”

“The Eastern Alliance… is a good place.” Sylvia pondered for a moment, then nodded in satisfaction. This answer met her expectations, because what Victor was always preoccupied with was the Eastern Alliance’s access to the sea. She rose gracefully and left Miller’s room. Pausing at the doorway, she pushed back her hood, revealing her peerless face. She curtsied to Father Miller and said, “I wish you a smooth journey to the east… My lord Micklemers.”

(End of this book. The story is to be continued.)

Final Words

Extraordinary Noble is finished, and as is customary, there should be some final words. But as the author, I have so many thoughts that I don’t know where to begin.

This book is actually far from being truly complete. To force an ending now would just make it a botched one, also referred to as the work of those male palace attendants with a certain… physiological shortcoming. But, due to the pressures of reality, the author has no choice but to cut his first creation in half and find a way to start a new book, to finally finish the story with satisfaction.

“Painful, yet happy” is probably the most accurate description of the author’s feelings while writing Extraordinary Noble.

This was the author’s first work, a practice piece. At first, with the mindset of being bored and just writing casually, I began Dadou’s writing career. The motivation was simple: I had run out of books to read and wanted to try writing something myself. It was like a picky diner, dissatisfied with the chef’s cooking, who rolls up his own sleeves and enters the kitchen, only to discover that cooking isn’t nearly as pleasant as eating.

Here, Dadou wants to say something fair, based on my own personal experience: any online novelist who perseveres in their craft is remarkable. Every work is the blood and sweat of a creator and deserves everyone’s respect.

In short, this newbie Dadou jumped into the pit with a laughable motivation, a poor attitude, ambitions that outstripped my abilities, and a lack of preparation. The beginning was a complete mess, heavily criticized by my book friends, yet I stubbornly refused to budge. But the most fundamental problem was the slow updates; many book friends who appreciated my work were eventually driven away by the turtle-speed updates.

I want to extend my most sincere thanks to the book friends who have accompanied me on my journey of growth. Your unwavering support has been the last line of defense for this book’s creation, and like always, it has never been breached.

Of course, this doesn’t change the慘t-wrenching report card of Extraordinary Noble. In fact, this book is a complete flop. But Dadou never thought of giving up.

Why, you ask?

Because no one ever told me that writing web novels is addictive!

Because of this addiction, even when writer’s block turned my brain to mush and I couldn’t squeeze out a single word, even when I was swamped with other matters and had no free time, I couldn’t bear to let my first work die halfway through.

I even found a reason for myself, which became my conviction to keep writing:

A rookie’s first work shouldn’t prioritize popularity, results, or income, nor should one change their creative direction just to please the majority of readers. Only a true master can satisfy all these requirements at once. For a rookie, it’s too difficult and unrealistic. A rookie should first complete a work that they themselves are satisfied with. This is achievable. If you can’t even satisfy yourself, you’ll be a rookie forever.

After Dadou confirmed without a doubt that Extraordinary Noble had flopped, I stopped reading comments and managing the comment section (to avoid the heartbreak). I never contacted an editor, nor did I bother to understand the rules for various kinds of voting. I don’t even remember how many years I’ve been writing this. Whenever I had free time, I couldn’t help but open my computer and tap away at the keyboard, or do some last-minute research to enrich my writing material.

What makes Dadou feel most guilty is that I never properly thanked the friends who consistently subscribed, voted, and gifted. I want to take this opportunity to say: Dadou is incredibly grateful for the long-term support and tolerance of all my book friends. Thank you all, and I am sorry that I have not lived up to your kindness.

In an ordinary person’s life, one can pursue at least two fortunate things: first, to find a wife or husband you are satisfied with; second, to turn what you love doing into your lifelong career. This is what’s meant by love and ideals.

There’s another saying: “The dream is beautiful, but reality is harsh.”

The reality the author faced was that due to insufficient preparation, updates were slow, performance was poor, and income was low. To fill my stomach, I had to run around everywhere, treating writing as a side job, which then led to a vicious cycle.

But this author’s ambitions haven’t died. To break this vicious cycle, I’ve decided to bet it all one more time!

This is the main reason why Extraordinary Noble is being forcibly concluded to start anew. Even if this book is thoroughly dead, who knows? Maybe it can be revived in a new form?

Perhaps “cutting off one’s tail to survive” is a more accurate way to describe continuing with a new installment.

From the perspective of the book’s plot, Victor’s fall is logical and not abrupt. When Spider absorbed the Ant-man Empress’s memories, she saw the Raging Wind Sword Saint unleash the full power of a Sun Elf without the aid of the sacred object of the Moon Goddess, triggering a tornado disaster. This was a massive shock to Spider, because the Sun Elves have always been at the apex of the Elven Empire’s ruling class. If this generation’s Sun Elf was a “spy” for the human kingdoms, the consequences would be unimaginable. Forget waiting two hundred or three hundred years for Victor to die of old age; in just a few decades, he could even subvert the ancient Elven Empire.

Spider would never allow this to happen. Since She was already there, She would, of course, act personally to eliminate this hidden threat to the Elves. The fall of the Raging Wind Sword Saint thus becomes perfectly logical. Otherwise, the story would lead to a fierce conflict between human and elven forces, and the third demon invasion event that the author laid the groundwork for would be useless.

As the saying goes, what reaches its peak must decline, and extremes will reverse. The protagonist Victor’s great rise and fall align with the natural laws of development. However, when a web novel protagonist enters a low point, it often drives away a group of readers.

Of course, Extraordinary Noble doesn’t have this problem. We only have two or three big and small fish left as readers. You all have endured the turtle-speed updates, so your tolerance can’t be too low… However, a bland reading experience is unavoidable. The problem the author faces is that the protagonist, Victor, is too powerful. If I don’t knock him down to the floor, I can’t write the story that follows.

Since things are already like this, let’s just start a new book.

Before discussing the new installment, let’s review the story so far. Attentive book friends will have noticed that the main plot of Extraordinary Noble is nested within a background plot. The author’s description of the background plot has been rather subtle, and many book friends may not have understood it.

Simply put, it’s a clichéd story. The gods and demons intend to move to a new home because their current residence is on the verge of destruction. Due to differences in the scale of time, the protagonist Victor becomes deeply embroiled in the struggle between the three planes, slowly uncovering the truth of history, and trying his best, with all his might, to secure a bright future for himself and the people he loves.

This book is somewhat different from common web novels. The Gods of the Sanctuary and the demons of the Abyss are actually the victims. Their homelands were breached long ago by the many Ancient Gods of the main plane, the most significant of whom are the Sun God Frey and Mother Earth. Frey is a primordial deity representing Law and Order. He not only brought civilization to the main plane but also harmed the Gods of the Celestial Realm. Mother Earth represents Life and procreation and is the primordial deity closest to the chaos demons. She infiltrated the Abyss, sowed discord among the ancient chaos demons, and split them into two opposing factions: one, the Black blood, who expand their race through procreation, and the other, the Ancient Demons, who strengthen themselves through consumption. This fundamentally eliminated the possibility of the Ancient Demons devouring all things, resurrecting the Demon Serpent of the Abyss, and returning to chaos.

The world-building of Extraordinary Noble is vast, with intelligent races as numerous as the stars. Their grudges and entanglements drive the development of the main plot, which in turn affects the protagonist and supporting characters. To be honest, it was quite difficult for Dadou to write this story. The fact that it hasn’t fallen apart yet is nothing short of a miracle.

Putting the update speed aside, the author has already realized some problems in the writing. There’s too much setup, and the plot develops slowly. But I think a common ailment of transmigration novels is a lack of tension in their world-building. To speed up the plot, the intelligence of the natives is forcibly lowered, making the story feel thin and reliant on feel-good moments for support. Although they are very entertaining, you get aesthetic fatigue after reading too many of this type.

Heh, this book really has too much setup; the author must complain a bit about it myself. To make the other world feel full, I often got stuck on pointless details. For example, I would imagine how the family ethics of extraordinary beings would differ from those of ordinary people and what changes this would bring to the social structure, and then describe it with lengthy text, which led to some readers labeling it as cuckold-fic and me as a simp.

Excessively pursuing reasonableness is, in itself, a morbid tendency, and the author must make adjustments.

Additionally, the lack of intense conflict and the lukewarm plot are also flaws. Because the conflict in Extraordinary Noble is set up as a struggle for survival, with no absolute right or wrong, good or evil, and no baseless hatred, the plot is slow-burn and not very engaging.

Alright, the content of Extraordinary Noble is mainly plot setup. Dadou won’t pretend anymore, I admit it. In the new installment to come, there won’t be a need for so much descriptive setup. The struggle for survival has reached a life-or-death stage, so it will be hard for the conflicts between the various parties not to be intense.

Let’s first point out the creative flaws, but updates, updates, updates are the key of keys.

The new installment will be released around mid-October. Dadou plans to build up a stockpile of chapters first. However, I haven’t communicated with my editor about the new book’s release. If it can be successfully put on the shelves, I will make writing my main profession. If not, the author will still definitely finish the book.

This is Dadou burning my boats for a final, desperate struggle. I hope all my book friends will give me your full support.

During the preparation period for the new book, Extraordinary Noble will continue to update with free epilogue chapters to serve as a bridge to the next part. Please stay tuned.

Oh, one last thing to complain about. Some readers said that Qin Fen should have been the protagonist. That damned bit-part player is rich, powerful, and intelligent; he wouldn’t use himself for dangerous experiments. His transmigration to another world is logically nonsensical. Besides, how should a high-IQ protagonist be written? This dumb rookie author could rack his brains and still not be able to write it.

Our protagonist Victor is just fine. In the new installment, he will still be the protagonist.

Epilogue 1: Fist of Heaven

In the sanctuary, amidst an endless mist of light, there was a small, square pool about four feet to a side. At times, its waters would churn, forming a vortex; at others, they would heave up and down, creating waves; sometimes they would boil like water on a stove; and sometimes they would be calm, yet rippling in concentric circles.

This pool was the manifested form of Solaris, an ancient God of the Void and a direct offspring of Regozosli, the Bird of Light. She possessed nearly unrestricted authority in the sanctuary, able to transform into all things and evolve living beings. A small pool was nothing—She could even manifest an entire divine kingdom plane, complete with four seasons, a rising sun and a setting moon, rivers and valleys, and intelligent life, which would even form its own unique history of love and hate.

As long as two conditions were met, the Gods of the Void were omnipotent beings within the sanctuary. First, they needed limitless divine power; second, the manifestations of the Gods of the Void could never cease their activity.

It was precisely because the thoughts of the Gods of the Void never stopped that Solaris was constantly consuming divine power. Now, to conserve Her strength, She had manifested only a small, ever-changing pool of water.

For the Gods of the Void, reducing divine power consumption to a bare minimum was called quiescent dormancy.

Suddenly, straight lines of light streaked through the mist, swiftly sketching out a magnificent and imposing gate. It was hundreds of meters tall and forged entirely of gold, resplendent and massive. Its simple lines exuded a sense of the divine and the solemn.

“The Gate of Heaven? It’s Wotan?!”

The dormant pool that was Solaris’s manifested form instantly transformed into a ball of light and flew toward the Gate of Heaven.

The incredibly heavy golden gate opened automatically to welcome the God of the Void. Solaris appeared directly inside a circular golden hall, manifesting a humanoid form. A set of exquisitely crafted, golden-yellow armor covered Her body, and even Her face was completely concealed by a Golden Mask. In the mask’s eye sockets burned two spheres of incandescent white light, revealing that Solaris had not manifested flesh and blood; this suit of golden armor was Her divine form at this moment.

On the circular tiers of the Golden Hall, a golden throne was placed at regular intervals. Some thrones were occupied by seated gods, while others were empty.

No God of the Void would refuse God-King Wotan’s invitation. Every unoccupied golden throne represented a kinsman who had fallen into eternal slumber.

The gods rose from their thrones and bowed toward the highest throne in the hall, speaking in unison, “Great Wotan, you are the favored of the light, the third light to illuminate the world. You are the chief of gods, the king of kings. We congratulate the God-King on his return. May Holy Heaven be eternally sacred, its radiance undying.”

Upon the highest throne, the God-King, clad in golden armor, raised his arm and said to the assembled gods, “The sacred light of Heaven is eternal and undying, but it should also flourish. We have companions yet to awaken, thrones sitting empty. Heaven is too desolate.”

“Great Wotan, perhaps you could create some angels to inhabit Holy Heaven.” A God of the Void raised a gauntlet, tapping it against his chest with a metallic clang. He spoke in a jesting tone, “This magnificent gold is cold and empty, devoid of the beauty of life. I still remember the last gathering in Heaven, the grand spectacle of countless angels singing praises to the gods.”

The God-King turned his helmet toward the speaking God of the Void, sensing a hint of flattery in his tone, and nodded in response. “So, it is Sky Spirit Donar… The Tower Master we selected has sacrificed gold to his Alchemy Tower, allowing Holy Heaven to steal the Law of Gold, which made it easier for me to manifest this Golden Hall.”

“The human kingdoms are in a terrible era now,” Donar said with a laugh, returning to his throne.

He had transformed into one of the Gods of the Sanctuary a long time ago, yet he still retained some of the nature of a demon prince, such as knowing how to flatter his superiors. Donar felt proud to have even caught God-King Wotan’s attention. Besides, as a guest in Holy Heaven, he was consuming the God-King’s power, so he had little room to complain. If it were up to Donar himself, he would never waste precious divine power to open his divine kingdom plane to other Gods of the Void.

Solaris, a God of the Void, asked with concern, “God-King, what roused you from your dormancy?”

Wotan’s deep, resonant voice echoed through the Golden Hall: “It was the Spider Lady. Not only did She meet the Chosen One, She also left a Spider Mark, attempting to establish a pact with the Gods of the Sanctuary, which awakened me from my dormancy.”

Spider. The name, spoken from the lips of the God-King, carried an incredible magic. A stir ran through the Gods of the Void in the hall; only Donar, who was irascible by nature, remained silent.

Wotan’s magnificent helmet turned once more toward the Sky Spirit. The moment he spoke, the discussion among the gods ceased. “I have met the primordial deity Frey, and I have met his daughter Freya, but none of the gods of the sanctuary have ever seen the Spider Lady… except for you, Donar, the demon prince who abandoned the Abyss and turned to the light. Can you tell me what the Spider Lady’s appearance signifies?”

The gazes of the gods fell upon Donar. His voice was hollow as he said, “The Spider Lady… She once hinted that I should flee to avoid being devoured by an Ancient Demon, which is why I abandoned the Abyss and embraced the light. But I am not grateful to Her… That was just a conspiracy She wove… well, a part of one… Even now, I still cannot see through the Spider Lady. She is more cunning than any demon sovereign, yet the will of the Abyss accepted Her. I am perplexed. Has the Spider Lady been assimilated by the will of the Abyss?”

“Donar, are you saying you cannot grasp the Spider Lady’s stance?” Solaris interjected. “I have never met the Spider Lady, but I am certain She is executing the will of Taelon Ruier.”

“The Spider Lady is the demonic Incarnation of the Moon Goddess. Therefore, the one and only immortal Sun Tree is likewise Her anchor to the main plane. Even if the will of the Abyss recognizes the Spider Lady’s authority as a demon sovereign, She is still an Ancient God of Taelon Ruier, safeguarding the flame of the Elven Empire’s civilization. Any existence that attempts to sever the order of civilization on the main plane is a mortal enemy of the Spider Lady, regardless of whether they are demons of the Abyss or we gods of the Celestial Realm.”

Donar shook his head and said hesitantly, “Even if the Spider Lady holds a neutral position, I still cannot believe She would give up her eternal immortality. If She takes no measures to save herself and perishes with the collapse of the Abyss Plane, how can She protect the Elven Empire? It makes more sense for the Spider Lady to continue cooperating with the Fallen Lord.”

God-King Wotan then explained, “There are two paths to an eternal will. The Ancient Demons of the Abyss achieve the chaos of ‘All things return to one’ through slaughter and consumption. The second path is for us, the gods of the Celestial Realm, to entrust our will to the sanctuary created by the progenitor of Light. But the Ancient Behemoths created by Taelon Ruier walk the path of pan-consciousness immortality. They imprint their will into their bloodline, then consolidate the conviction of their retainers, achieving another form of eternal immortality. The Spider Lady’s true body may perish with the collapse of the Abyss Plane, but Her Dark Elf priests can focus the Light of the Mind of the Dark Elf people, awaken their bloodline memory, and inherit the Spider Lady’s will, becoming her avatars. And the Empress Regnant of the Elven Empire is equivalent to an avatar of the Moon Goddess. As long as the flame of the Elven Empire’s civilization is never extinguished, the Spider Lady and the Moon Goddess are eternally immortal.”

“However, pan-consciousness immortality inevitably leads to a fragmented will, which we consider to be ‘perishing,’ not true immortality. In the end, the Ancient Gods cannot escape the path designated by the Creation Giant Ape. They can only entrust their fragmented will to mortal bloodlines, subject to the laws of mortals.”

God-King Wotan’s gaze shifted to a corner of the Golden Hall. It was empty, with neither a God of the Void nor a golden throne. After a moment’s pause, he continued, “The Fallen Lord Infidas is different from the Spider Lady. He invaded the Abyss Plane thirteen times, and I resurrected him twelve times, until he took the initiative to sever his connection with the sanctuary, retract his will imprint, and accept the corruption of the will of the Abyss, falling into a demon of the Abyss. I once hated Infidas’s betrayal with a passion, sending angel avatars to hunt him down, but they all failed. It wasn’t until he cooperated with the Spider Lady to lure you to the Gate of Heaven that I acknowledged that Infidas had fallen into the Abyss with the ideal of completely annihilating it.”

Donar said with schadenfreude, “The Spider Lady accepts the fate of her main body’s demise, while the Fallen Lord has become the sanctuary’s most terrifying enemy.” Feeling the heavy gaze of the God-King upon him, he added, “Alright, I admit I left a backup plan in the Abyss Plane. Back then, the Spider and the Fallen Lord used my betrayal to set a trap, killing the most powerful Ancient Demon Sovereign, Morotangen, and then gathered the Black Blood Demons to create the Kingdom of Hell. I took the opportunity to create an avatar and have it secretly lurk in the Kingdom of Hell. It should be a lord-level hell demon by now, but my connection to the avatar is very weak. If the great Wotan can allocate some power to me, I can project my will, control the hell demon avatar, and provide intelligence on the Fallen Lord.”

At this moment, Solaris, the God-King’s left hand, spoke from his golden throne, “Great Donar, you must first tell the God-King the true name of your hell demon avatar.”

To speak the true name of the hell demon was to demand that Donar hand over his demon avatar to God-King Wotan for him to command.

Donar roared with feigned anger, “Great Solaris, you don’t trust me?! I can take this as a provocation from you?!”

God-King Wotan raised his arm, and in the center of the circular hall, a ball of white-gold light emerged, brilliant and dazzling, radiating pure, divine power.

“Ever since the primordial deity Frey forsook the vast majority of his self-will and became the sun, the laws of Taelon World have grown ever more perfect. The connection between the Celestial Realm and the Elemental Sea of fire was sealed by the Law of the Sun, preventing the Celestial Realm from directly drawing divine power from the Elemental Sea of fire. We are left with only the sanctuary created by the progenitor of Light.”

“The Lord of Radiance, worshipped by the primordial beings of the Material Plane, became the sanctuary’s last source of divine power. The faith gathered from humans is another form of the origin of the fire element, but the chaotic and shallow mental wills of mortals will also corrupt any God of the Void. Midaus lost his self-will for this reason. His wails echoed in the sanctuary for several thousand Elemental Cycles, and now he no longer has the ability to even cry out. Although he obtained the great divine power he dreamed of, he paid a price more terrible than eternal quiescence!”

“Midaus fell into such a tragic state because he went behind my back, cooperated with the Fallen Lord Infidas, and fell into his trap!”

“Sky Spirit, do you really think a mere demon avatar can hide from the former Right Hand of Heaven, the current Lord of Hell, Infidas?!”

The Golden Hall trembled with Wotan’s voice, and Donar felt the God-King’s oppressive might. In truth, he did not fear the Lord of Heaven. Even if he was the King of Kings, he could not kill a God of the Void who had entrusted his will imprint to the sanctuary. At most, he could expel Donar from his divine kingdom of Heaven. However, within his divine kingdom, God-King Wotan held the authority to resurrect the Gods of the Void.

If a God of the Void exhausted their divine power and had to fall into eternal quiescence, only God-King Wotan could awaken them.

Offending Wotan was by no means a wise move!

Sky Spirit Donar immediately transmitted the long and convoluted true name of the demon to the Lord of Heaven, transferring his avatar in the Kingdom of Hell to him.

Seeing the former demon prince’s display of submission, the God-King said with satisfaction, “Donar, under the Great Art of Destiny, you will be the first to raise your own divine throne.”

Donar seized the opportunity to inquire, “Great Wotan, what pact did the Spider wish to make with Heaven through the Chosen One? May I know the specific details? I worry that, given the Spider Lady’s standing, Her appearance will distort the Great Art of Destiny and have an unpredictable effect on the Chosen One.”

Donar’s doubts were a shared concern among the gods of the sanctuary, but God-King Wotan said, “The Great Art of Destiny, cast by Metis at the cost of eternal quiescence, is not easily distorted. And the Spider Lady’s pact is precisely a self-correction of Metis’s Great Art of Destiny.”

“During my dormancy, did you guide the Chosen One, Beldina, to steer clear of this era’s World Overseer, the Son of Taelon?”

Before Heaven’s left hand could report him to the God-King, Donar confessed proactively, “Great Wotan, your gaze sees through everything… Sixteen Elemental Cycles ago, I guided the Chosen One Beldina to avoid the Son of Taelon. I did not predict that Midaus’s mortal chosen would take the opportunity to place a seal on the Chosen One, temporarily blocking the sanctuary’s observation and guidance. However, Midaus’s will has been corrupted by mortal faith, so his mortal chosen would not have received Midaus’s instructions. Its actions were entirely born of its own ridiculous ideas. The great Solaris also believed that that mortal chosen could not distort the result of the Great Art of Destiny.”

Wotan said, “The lives of primordial mortals are short. Even if a mortal chosen steals Midaus’s power, it cannot change the insignificant nature of its life. The Radiant Church, formed by mortals, thinks it can possess the Lord of Radiance, but it does not know that this in itself is a treacherous scheme by the Fallen Lord against Heaven. However, among mortals, the Overseer and the Chosen One possess great power rivaling that of the gods. Your attempt to make one great power yield to another would in itself cause a distortion in the Great Art of Destiny. And Midaus’s mortal chosen used the mistake you made to seal that distortion.”

An ancient God of the Void interjected, “Young Sky Spirit, you have not dealt with mortals and do not understand the limitations of the short-lived races. No matter how powerful they are, their actions are still manipulated by their emotions, and they may even exhibit self-destructive tendencies. You guided the Chosen One to avoid the Son of Taelon, which hurt Beldina’s pride. This had little effect in her childhood, but as the Chosen One’s power grows, she is bound to have thoughts of challenging the Son of Taelon. However, Midaus’s chosen took the opportunity to seal Beldina’s power, so she has no way to challenge the Son of Taelon, and the psychological wound from back then can never be healed. When this Son of Taelon naturally perishes, Beldina will lose her target, and her resentment and dissatisfaction might be transferred to the gods. This is how Midaus’s mortal chosen wants to distort the result of the Great Art of Destiny.”

Donar argued in surprise, “This… I was just worried that Beldina would be killed by the Son of Taelon, which is why that despicable mortal chosen found an opening. This is my mistake, but I don’t know how we should remedy it.”

“Taking your demon avatar is the price you must pay,” God-King Wotan said, giving Donar a meaningful look. He continued, “The Great Art of Destiny corrected itself, drawing out the Spider Lady. She left a Spider Mark on Beldina, which can help the Chosen One break the seal placed by the mortal chosen.”

Donar immediately roared, “No! For Beldina to challenge the Son of Taelon is to walk to her death! We must project our power and will to stop her from doing so!”

Solaris, a God of the Void, said calmly, “Beldina does not need to prove herself with force just yet. A prank, or snatching something the Son of Taelon loves, will be enough to satisfy the competitive spirit of a young Chosen One. The Force of Destiny has already corrected the deviation. Otherwise, we would have to sacrifice another god to cast the Great Art of Destiny… Donar, compared to your mistake, the price of one demon avatar is not expensive.”

The light in his mask’s eye sockets flickered uncertainly. Donar lowered his head and said, “The Spider Lady is the most cunning high-ranking demon I have ever met. What is her purpose in doing this?”

God-King Wotan scanned the assembled gods and said slowly, “In the ancient era, before the primordial deity Frey chose to make his sacrifice, another primordial deity, the Earth Mother, helped him create the Moon Goddess Freya to preserve Frey’s will imprint. The Moon Goddess created the Elves in Frey’s stead, spreading order and civilization, and gathering the Light of the Mind of her people to maintain the immortality of the Ancient God’s will… The Earth Mother and Frey had a similar mission. She was to enter the world of the Abyss and spread the law of life’s procreation. Mother Earth is the very source of the Black Blood Demons. Before she executed Taelon Ruier’s will, she had no absolute certainty of success. Fearing she would fail, Frey commanded the Moon Goddess Freya to create a tribe of elves who worshiped Mother Earth to serve as a coordinate for her rebirth. But Mother Earth’s nature is chaos, akin to the demons of the Abyss, and she opposes civilization and order. She never cared for her elf believers. Mother Earth’s will has dispersed, but the great law She left for her elf believers still remains. Over nine thousand Elemental Cycles ago, I guided the primordial humans to the south of the Great River to find the power left behind by the Earth Mother, and the Elves also intervened…. Now, the Spider Lady demands that we make a concession. The Elven Empire intends to absorb the lost Rock Elves.”

“She pried open the seal on Beldina, but She also removed the True Luck I bestowed upon the Chosen One. This is the Spider Lady’s warning. She can help Heaven, or She can help the Fallen Lord!”

Wotan rose from his golden throne. The gods in the hall stood up one by one, listening as the God-King spoke, “We need the Spider Lady to remain neutral. The fallen Infidas is our opponent. Heaven must reclaim the Lord of Radiance; we cannot allow mortal believers to secretly hoard the radiant divine power. Hell sowed seeds of corruption in the mortal world long ago, and I too shall open the Gate of Heaven, providing divine power to you gods so that you may project your will and power into the mortal world, cultivate your respective chosen, execute Heaven’s will, and fight against the fallen in the mortal world.”

“They are the Fist of Heaven, and also the last hope of the sanctuary…”

UNTITLED

Chapter 1: Stealing Heaven and Swapping the Sun

Chapter 2: Zhang Shuang
Chapter 3: Baron Wimbledon
Chapter 4: Scheming and Decisions
Chapter 5: Exchanging Territory
Chapter 6: The Dinner Party
Chapter 7: Sorcerers and the Church
Chapter 8: The Ritual
Chapter 9: The War Bear Mercenary Company
Chapter 10: Recruitment
Chapter 11: Leveraging Power
Chapter 12: The Influence of a Knight
Chapter 13: Departure
Chapter 14: An Exchange
Chapter 15: Making Camp
Chapter 16: Ferocity
Chapter 17: The Power of a Knight
Chapter 18: On the Road
Chapter 19: First Battle with the Gnolls
Chapter 20
Chapter 21: Son of the Wind
Chapter 22: Bloodline
Chapter 23: Revenge
Chapter 24: Expulsion
Chapter 25: A New Beginning
Chapter 26: The Reason Why
Chapter 27: The Cave
Chapter 28: The Alchemy Tower
Chapter 29: The King
Chapter 30: The Price
Chapter 31: Planning and Cultivation
Chapter 32: The Strength of Farmers
Chapter 33: Freemen
Chapter 34: The Ruling
Chapter 35: Sowing Division
Chapter 36: The Old Ogre
Chapter 37: Trial of Life and Death
Chapter 38: Breakthrough
Chapter 39: Fanning the Flames of Ambition
Chapter 40: Moving Forward
Chapter 41: Alchemical Auxiliary Soldier
Chapter 42: A Tangled Mess
Chapter 43: Reno the Militiaman
Chapter 44: Clash
Chapter 45: Go All Out
Chapter 46: The Bear of the Northlands
Chapter 47: Earl Chepman
Chapter 48: Pride and Greed
Chapter 49: A Heart-to-Heart
Chapter 50: The Return
Chapter 51: Sights and Sounds of the Marsh
Chapter 52: The Spire Faction
Chapter 53: A Secret
Chapter 54: The Value of a Mystic Form
Chapter 55: History (Part 1)
Chapter 56: History (Part 2)
Chapter 57: History (Part 2)
Chapter 58: The Sinner
Chapter 59: The Man-Eater
Chapter 60: Mercenaries and Secret Agents
Chapter 61: Jack and Reno
Chapter 62: Tip of the Iceberg
Chapter 63: Without a Ruler, There is Chaos
Chapter 64: Lions? Or Hyenas?
Chapter 65: A Tender Sweetness
Chapter 66: Schemes and the Gap
Chapter 67: First Awe, Then Grace
Chapter 68: Whose Noose?
Chapter 69: The First Step
Chapter 70: Specialization
Chapter 71: Who Was Wrong?
Chapter 72: The First Round Table Meeting
Chapter 73: Not a Vassal
Chapter 74: Posing as a Tycoon
Chapter 75: Interest
Chapter 76: Value and Misunderstanding
Chapter 77: Militia and Sacred Warrior
Chapter 78: Divine Notarization
Chapter 79: The Spy’s Web
Chapter 80: Fermentation
Chapter 81: Victor’s Blueprint
Chapter 82: The Gaunt Reality
Chapter 83: The Caravan
Chapter 84: Different Methods, Same Goal
Chapter 85: Vigilance in Peacetime

Chapter 86: The Explosive Popularity of Raw Sugar

Chapter 87: Roland Auguste
Chapter 88: The Tea Party
Chapter 89: Sophia
Chapter 90: The Manpower Problem
Chapter 91: Sending the God Away
Chapter 92: A Surging Tide
Chapter 93: Crisis
Chapter 94: Response
Chapter 95: Intimidation
Chapter 96: The Predicament
Chapter 97: A Bandit’s Insight

Chapter 98: Power, Responsibility, and Capability

Chapter 99: Catherine’s Next Move
Chapter 100: The Approaching Danger
Chapter 101: The Insect Tide Attacks
Chapter 102: Defense
Chapter 103: Despair
Chapter 104: Retreat
Chapter 105: The Turning Point
Chapter 106: Mass Production
Chapter 107: The Scheming Narsen
Chapter 108: The Radiant Sacred Warriors
Chapter 109: Lilia in Despair
Chapter 110: Who is the Enemy?
Chapter 111: The Veil of a Knight
Chapter 112: Lingering Imperial Might
Chapter 113: The Queen of Roses
Chapter 114: A Surprise
Chapter 115: The Awakening
Chapter 116: Wavering Loyalties
Chapter 117: Division of Labor
Chapter 118: Sophia’s Enemy
Chapter 119: Secret Fortress
Chapter 120: Narsen’s Courteous Reception
Chapter 121: Arrogance
Chapter 122: Unstoppable
Chapter 123: Simplified Mystic Form
Chapter 124: Resolve
Chapter 125: Coming Clean
Chapter 126: The Bigger Picture
Chapter 127: Sincerity
Chapter 128: Alike
Chapter 129: Taking Shape
Chapter 130: Cultivation
Chapter 131: The Shadow Council
Chapter 132: Mutual Aid and Mutual Benefit
Chapter 134: Enclave
Chapter 134: The Inquisition
Chapter 135: The Dust Settles
Chapter 136: A Big Surprise
Chapter 137
Chapter 138: Reunion
Chapter 140: Fanning the Flames
Chapter 140: The Value of the Ant-men
Chapter 141: Vinnie’s Idea
Chapter 142: Elite Soldiers
Chapter 143: Viscount
Chapter 144: Money Over Life
Chapter 145: A Frail, Great Trouble
Chapter 146: Unwilling to Leave
Chapter 147: Mithril Diplomacy
Chapter 148: Northward and Eastward Advance
Chapter 149: Misunderstanding
Chapter 150: Rebuilding the Future
Chapter 151: Before the Return
Chapter 152: Viscount Randell
Chapter 153: Farming and Raising Pigs
Chapter 154: Integration
Chapter 155: The Erring Yellow Goat
Chapter 156: The Hidden Hand
Chapter 157: Victor’s Ambition

Chapter 158: Now That You’re Here, You’re Not Leaving

Chapter 159: Private Plots
Chapter 160: Quicksilver
Chapter 161: A Way to Repair
Chapter 162: Undercurrent
Chapter 163: The Mystic Form’s Might
Chapter 164: A Favor to Ask
Chapter 165: First a Pit, Then a Fortress
Chapter 166: New Neighbors
Chapter 167: Deep and Abiding Love
Chapter 168: A Trade Route Paved in Blood
Chapter 169: Profit is Courage
Chapter 170: Two Flaws
Chapter 171: Not a Problem
Chapter 172: Mercenary Handbook: Article Four
Chapter 173: Absolutely Brilliant
Chapter 174: A Detailed Discussion
Chapter 175: Swiftbird Light Cavalry
Chapter 176: Stronghold and Growth
Chapter 177: Letting Go
Chapter 178: Sowing Quicksilver
Chapter 179: Father Miller
Chapter 180: Work is About to Begin
Chapter 181: A Thorny Situation
Chapter 182: The Encroaching Shadow
Chapter 183: Conflict
Chapter 184: Two Questions
Chapter 185: Preparations
Chapter 186: The Throat-slitter

Chapter 187: Industrialization and the Subject Employment System

Chapter 188: Sylvia’s Foresight
Chapter 189: You’re Too Slow!
Chapter 190: Azure Blade
Chapter 191: To Believe or Not to Believe
Chapter 192: Responsibility
Chapter 193: Countermeasures
Chapter 194: The Cunning Fox’s Shadow
Chapter 195: A Knight’s Blood
Chapter 196: The Hunt
Chapter 197: Overreaching
Chapter 198: Corruption
Chapter 199: The Sacred Mark
Chapter 200: The Lord’s Will
Chapter 201: Unacceptable
Chapter 202: Baring Its Fangs
Chapter 203: Foresight
Chapter 204: Aftermath
Chapter 205: The Council’s Plan
Chapter 206: Reactions
Chapter 207: Preparations
Chapter 208: The Meeting and the Inquiry
Chapter 209: Afternoon
Chapter 210: Roland’s Sword
Chapter 211: Weyrich’s Enthusiasm
Chapter 212: You Can Scram!
Chapter 213: The Right to Negotiate
Chapter 214: Vying for Favor
Chapter 215: The Bard
Chapter 216: A Strange Relationship
Chapter 217: Entering the City

Chapter 218: The Return After the Disappearance

Chapter 219: Ambition
Chapter 220: The Secrets of the Mystic Forms
Chapter 221: Reunion
Chapter 222: Unanimous Vote
Chapter 223: Establishing a Black Market
Chapter 224: The Useless Phalanx
Chapter 225: Captured
Chapter 226: The Castle in the Mountains
Chapter 227: The Evening Banquet
Chapter 228: Petty Roland
Chapter 229: Fermentation
Chapter 230: The Situation Continues to Brew
Chapter 231: Patriotic Education
Chapter 232: Misunderstanding
Chapter 233: Ulterior Motives
Chapter 234: The Spiked Kidney Bean
Chapter 235: The Initiative
Chapter 236: Redwood Town
Chapter 237: Saying Goodbye
Chapter 238: The Strange Forest
Chapter 239: Goblin Frenzy
Chapter 240: Left in the Tree
Chapter 241: Forest Camp
Chapter 242: Activation
Chapter 243: Leaving
Chapter 244: Playing Hard to Get
Chapter 245: The Agreement
Chapter 246: An Inherent Weakness
Chapter 247: Destiny’s Turning Point
Chapter 248: The Great Smuggling Enterprise
Chapter 249: Quicksilver is a Tiger
Chapter 250: An Unintentional Awakening
Chapter 251: System Reform (Part 1)
Chapter 252: System Reform (Part 2)
Chapter 253: System Reform (Part 2)
Chapter 254: Organizational Loyalty

Chapter 255: The Hired Laborers, Monkey and Narsen (Part 1)

Chapter 256: Hired Laborers, Monkey and Narsen (Part 2)

Chapter 257: A Fierce Man
Chapter 258: A Flower Blossoms As I Do
Chapter 259: Persuasion

Chapter 260: New Unit: Alchemical Dragon-Lizard

Chapter 261: A String of Surprises
Chapter 262: Conflicted
Chapter 263: An Absurd First Meeting
Chapter 264: Employing the Untrustworthy
Chapter 265: System Building
Chapter 266: A Storm is Brewing (Part 1)
Chapter 267: The Trend Begins (Part 2)
Chapter 268: A Shocking Scheme (Part 1)
Chapter 269: A Heaven-Shaking Scheme (Part 2)
Chapter 270: Wisdom and Advantage

Chapter 271: All Make Their Appearance (Part 1)

Chapter 272: Everyone Makes Their Appearance (Part 2)

Chapter 273: Drill (Part 1)
Chapter 274: Drill (Part 2)
Chapter 275: Worth It
Chapter 276: Rose Lake and Silvermoon River
Chapter 277: The Lord Is a Believer?
Chapter 278: The First Brick
Chapter 279: Fruition
Chapter 280: Technology Sharing (Part 1)
Chapter 281: Technology Sharing (Part 2)
Chapter 282: The Hidden Tail
Chapter 283: The Public Transport Network
Chapter 284: The Little Personal Retainer
Chapter 285: Migration
Chapter 286: Killing Intent

Chapter 287: The Black Raven’s Night Raid (Part 1)

Chapter 288: The Black Ravens’ Night Raid (Part 2)

Chapter 289: A Desperate Flight
Chapter 290: A Personal Visit
Chapter 291: A Promise is a Promise
Chapter 292: Correctness and Loyalty
Chapter 293: On the Right Track
Chapter 294: The Meeting
Chapter 295: Problems
Chapter 296: Stag Merchants’ Guild
Chapter 297: Information
Chapter 298: Parasitism
Chapter 299: A Crushing Defeat
Chapter 300: Wolf Pack Tactics
Chapter 301: The Bear Company
Chapter 302: Preparations for Contact
Chapter 303: Trade and Enslavement
Chapter 304: A Fruitless Return
Chapter 305: Rose Slays the Dragon

Chapter 306: The Clouds Part, the Moon Appears

Chapter 307: Preparations
Chapter 308: Seeking an Education
Chapter 309: The Grand Duke’s Doubts
Chapter 310: The Showdown (Part 1)
Chapter 311: The Showdown (Part 2)
Chapter 312: The Showdown (Part 2)
Chapter 313: Death of a Marquess
Chapter 314: Redbeard
Chapter 315: The Pope’s Worries
Chapter 316: The Pontiff’s Intent
Chapter 317: The Council President’s Plan
Chapter 318: Camelope
Chapter 319: Sylvia’s Methods
Chapter 320: Suspicious
Chapter 321: The Second Close Encounter
Chapter 322: The Golden Company
Chapter 323: An Awakening
Chapter 324: Contempt
Chapter 325: Preparations
Chapter 326: War-Soldiers
Chapter 327: A Mind in Turmoil
Chapter 328: Guests from Afar
Chapter 329: Worthy
Chapter 330: Playing with Fire
Chapter 331: Transformation
Chapter 332: Concealment
Chapter 333: Fighting Spirit
Chapter 334: Rejection
Chapter 335: Divergence
Chapter 336: A Chance Encounter
Chapter 337: Fostering
Chapter 338: Family Politics (Part 1)
Chapter 339: Family Politics (Part 2)
Chapter 340: Transformation

Chapter 341: The Secret of the Bloodline (Part 1)

Chapter 342: The Secret of the Bloodline (Part 2)

Chapter 343: Schemes
Chapter 344: Raven Town Resurrected
Chapter 345: Seeing Sophia Again
Chapter 346: Focus and Pressure
Chapter 347: The Wager (Part 1)
Chapter 348: The Wager (Part 2)
Chapter 349: The Cocktail Party (Part 1)
Chapter 350: The Reception (Part Two)
Chapter 351: Cocktail Party (Part 2)
Chapter 352: A Story
Chapter 353: Night Talk (Part 1)
Chapter 354: Night Talk (Part 2)
Chapter 355: A Difficult Position
Chapter 356: Roland’s Story
Chapter 357: Sunrise on the Goldwater River
Chapter 358: The Fishman War
Chapter 359: The Chess Game (Part 1)
Chapter 360: The Chessboard (Part 2)
Chapter 361: Seeing Them Off (Part 1)
Chapter 362: Seeing Off (Part 2)
Chapter 363: Horror
Chapter 364: The Full Story
Chapter 365: The Thief Princess
Chapter 366: Confirmation
Chapter 367: The Value of Blue Taro
Chapter 368: A Silent Gambit
Chapter 369: Currying Favor
Chapter 370: Observation
Chapter 371: A Chat

Chapter 372: Observation and Confusion (Part 1)

Chapter 373: Observation and Confusion (Part 2)

Chapter 374: The Verdict
Chapter 375: Superstructure
Chapter 376: Plans and Goals
Chapter 377: An Explanation (Part 1)
Chapter 378: Enlightening (Part 2)
Chapter 379: Participation and Expectation
Chapter 380: A Resonant Military Parade
Chapter 381: The Conditions for the Reward
Chapter 382: Caligula
Chapter 383: The Privy Council Meeting
Chapter 384: The Age of Nobles
Chapter 385: Balance (Part 1)
Chapter 386: Balance (Part 2)
Chapter 387: At Ease
Chapter 388: Tutor Tournans
Chapter 389: The Infinite Mind (Part 1)
Chapter 390: Infinite Mind (Part 2)

Chapter 391: Improving the Secret Arts (Part 1)

Chapter 392: Secret Art Improvement (Part 2)
Chapter 393: All Mine
Chapter 394: Restoration Potion
Chapter 395: Probing
Chapter 396: Proverb
Chapter 397: The Crazed Barol
Chapter 398: Who Sews Your Clothes
Chapter 399: The Inevitable Arrival
Chapter 400: The Matriarch’s Demeanor
Chapter 401: Halotes Fortress
Chapter 402: Patting Himself on the Back

Chapter 403: Taking Matters Into His Own Hands

Chapter 404: The Setup
Chapter 405: Misunderstanding
Chapter 406: Coronation Ceremony
Chapter 407: The New Tax
Chapter 408: Reunion
Chapter 409: Options
Chapter 410: Uninvited Guests
Chapter 411: Humiliation (Part 1)
Chapter 412: Humiliation (Part 2)
Chapter 413: An Accident
Chapter 414: Taxes and Currency
Chapter 415: Minting Rights

Chapter 416: A Pleasure Doing Business (Part 1)

Chapter 417: A Pleasure Doing Business (Part 2)

Chapter 418: Nature and Love
Chapter 419: Political Marriage and Love
Chapter 420: Fruit and Love
Chapter 421: Love at First Sight
Chapter 422: Disappeared

Chapter 423: Each Makes Their Intentions Clear

Chapter 424: Each Gets What They Need
Chapter 425: Reasonable Support
Chapter 426: Uninvited Guests
Chapter 427: Victor’s Gentlemanly Gift
Chapter 428: Justifying Himself
Chapter 429: A Sufficient Reason
Chapter 430: Heartless, Heartfelt
Chapter 431: A Covert Advance
Chapter 432: A Night Visit (Part 1)
Chapter 433: A Night Visit (Part 2)
Chapter 434: A Show of Strength
Chapter 435: Semi-elementalization

Chapter 436: The Royal Family and the Queen’s Family

Chapter 437: Support and Opposition
Chapter 438: A Ruined Reputation
Chapter 439: The King’s Betrothal
Chapter 440: Roland’s Entrustment
Chapter 441: The Coming Freezing Rain
Chapter 442: Tonight and Tomorrow Night
Chapter 443: A Bout of Life and Death
Chapter 444: The End and the Beginning
Chapter 445: The Furnace
Chapter 446: The Melting Secret
Chapter 447: The Secret of the Legacy
Chapter 448: The Inquisition and the Wizards
Chapter 449: Council President Charlie
Chapter 450: Hall of Dreams

Chapter 451: The Council President, Keeper of Secrets

Chapter 452: The Red Queen’s Law
Chapter 453: Beyond One’s Reach
Chapter 454: Priest Kent

Chapter 455: The Mystery of the Grayhollow Satyrs

Chapter 456: Transcendent Status
Chapter 457: A Sense of Urgency
Chapter 458: Eclectic and Inclusive
Chapter 459: Family Banquet
Chapter 460: Strength
Chapter 461: Light of the Mind
Chapter 462: The Ability to Suffer a Loss
Chapter 463: Take Your Pick
Chapter 464: The Investigation
Chapter 465: Adjustments
Chapter 466: The Spy’s Discovery
Chapter 467: Quicksilver’s Ambition
Chapter 468: Simulated Inspiration
Chapter 469: An Attempt
Chapter 470: The Path
Chapter 471
Chapter 472: The Spark of Quicksilver Manor

Chapter 473: The Hypothesis of Simulating Talents

Chapter 474: Commissioning the Minting of Coins

Chapter 475: Frazzled
Chapter 476: The Unhappy Miller
Chapter 477: A Normal Change
Chapter 478: The Queen’s Methods
Chapter 479: Indulgence and Forbearance
Chapter 480: A Change in Mentality
Chapter 481: Schemes
Chapter 482: The Trait of Attraction
Chapter 483: Baffling

Chapter 484: Redeeming the Last Vestige of Goodness

Chapter 485: Seeing One’s True Nature
Chapter 486: Boundless Ambition
Chapter 487: Mutual Aid Association
Chapter 488: All Kinds of Marvels
Chapter 489: Following Suit
Chapter 490: Naville’s Trouble
Chapter 491: Selfishness and Righteousness
Chapter 492: Nothing To Do
Chapter 493: Gathering Clouds (Part 1)
Chapter 494: A Storm is Brewing (Part 2)

Chapter 495: Preparations Before Departure (Part 1)

Chapter 497: Preparations Before Departure (Part 2)

Chapter 497: Traveling Companion
Chapter 498: Closely United
Chapter 499: The Battle of Barreto (Part 1)
Chapter 500: The Battle of Barreto (Part 2)

Chapter 501: A Change Spiraling Out of Control

Chapter 502: The Hidden Highness (Part 1)
Chapter 503: The Hidden Highness (Part 2)
Chapter 504: Arrival
Chapter 505: A Secret Invitation
Chapter 506: Connections
Chapter 507: Various Troubles
Chapter 508: Academic Standing (Part 1)
Chapter 509: Academic Standing (Part 2)
Chapter 510: Bestowing Gifts
Chapter 511: Leveraging the Faction
Chapter 512: Envy
Chapter 513: Core of the Earth
Chapter 514: Aerie Fortress’s Support
Chapter 515: The Downfallen Judy
Chapter 516: The Old and the New

Chapter 517: Collecting the Rune Crystal (Part 1)

Chapter 518: Collecting the Rune Crystal (Part 2)

Chapter 519: Retrieving the Rune Crystal (Part 2)

Chapter 520: Shrouded in Suspicion
Chapter 521: Bounty Diplomacy
Chapter 522: The Final Job
Chapter 523: Bloodline Common Ground
Chapter 524: Honing
Chapter 525: Legendary
Chapter 526: Nemesis
Chapter 527: Neo Wester
Chapter 528: The Forging Method
Chapter 529: Sundering Method
Chapter 530: Persuasion to Leave
Chapter 531: Collaborative Research (Part 1)
Chapter 532: Collaborative Research (Part 2)
Taking a Day Off
Chapter 533: A Conversation
Chapter 534: Warning
Chapter 535: Having Each Other
Chapter 536: Research Direction
Chapter 537: The Meaning of Beauty
Chapter 538: The Satyr Kingdom
Chapter [arabic_numeral]: Temporary Notice
Chapter 539: The Boundary
Chapter 540: Reaching a Consensus
Chapter 541: No Regrets
Chapter 542: Luring Away
Chapter 543: Reactivation
Chapter 544: An Uncomfortable Tower Spirit
Chapter 545: Confident and Unafraid
Chapter 546: Domain Integration

Chapter 547: A Great Household and a Vast Estate

Chapter 548: Starlight Brilliance
Chapter 549: Stimulating Domestic Demand
Chapter 550: His Highness’s Private Savings
Chapter 551: A Hall Full of Talent
Chapter 552: Encouragement
Chapter 553: Mobile Field Fort
Chapter 554: Meeting with Barol
Chapter 555: Soul Fire Contamination
Chapter 556: Riddled with Flaws
Chapter 557: A Fateful Gathering
Chapter 558: Their Respective Domains
Chapter 559: The Magic Arrow and Void Walk
Chapter 560: The Impact of the Bloody Battle
Chapter 561: Primal Blood Secret Art
Chapter 562: Visiting Quicksilver Manor
Chapter 563: A Wonderful Misunderstanding
Chapter 564: Charlotte Randell
Chapter 565: The Contest
Chapter 566: The Tenacity Talent
Chapter 567: The Talent Tree
Chapter 568: Sylvia’s Caution
Chapter 569: Exploiting the Gaps
Chapter 570: Going with the Flow
Chapter 571: Lying in Wait
Chapter 572: A Reminder
Chapter 573: The Uncrowned King
Chapter 1: Temporary Notice
Chapter 574: The Iron Brick Feast (Part 1)
Chapter 575: The Iron Brick Feast
Chapter 576: Linobia
Chapter 577: Stealing a Moment of Leisure
Chapter 578: Gold-Eyed Earl
Chapter 579: Dispelling Wariness
Chapter 580: Flowing Leaf Manor
Chapter 581: The Orc Brute Fighter
Chapter 582: Sky Spirit Donar
Chapter 583: Human Supreme
Chapter 584: The Test
Chapter 585: Changes
Chapter 586: The Vacant Throne
Chapter 587: Pay Them No Mind
Chapter 588: Boarding the Ship
Chapter 589: The Chase
Chapter 590: Paddle-Wheel Driven Ship

Chapter 591: The Wizard Submits to Royal Authority

Chapter 592: A Debate Over Direction
Chapter 593: Silver-Tongued
Chapter 594: Reversal

Chapter 595: Knights to the Left, Warriors to the Right

Chapter 596: A Powerful Breakthrough After Long Accumulation

Chapter 597: The Truth of the Conspiracy
Chapter 598: Disaster Strikes
Chapter 599: A False Alarm?
Chapter 600: Full of Doubts
Chapter 601: The Opportunity of War

Chapter 602: Level Up Before Fighting Monsters

Chapter 603: Mind in Ferment

Chapter 604: Feigned Viciousness and True Madness

Chapter 605: Arrangements Before the Expedition

Chapter 606: Octavia
Chapter 607: Assembly
Chapter 608: Deciding the Strategy
Chapter 609: The Outpost
Chapter 610: At a Standstill
Chapter 611: The Forceful Patriarch
Chapter 612: A Meeting and a Consensus
Chapter 613: A Grim Situation
Chapter 614: Gains and Losses for All
Chapter 615: It’s Not Perfect Without a Neck
Chapter 616: Annihilation
Chapter 617: Spoils of War
Chapter 618: Facing Reality
Chapter 619: The Style of the Nobles
Chapter 620: The Charm of a Gold Knight
Chapter 621: War and Currency
Chapter 622: The Patriarch’s Arrangements
Chapter 623: A Turn of Events
Chapter 624: The Keeper of Secrets’ Plan
Chapter 625: Longing in a Time of War
Chapter 626: The Sasan Militia’s First Battle
Chapter 627: The Marvelous Crystal
Chapter 628: Eaglenest Mountain
Chapter 629: Night Captive
Chapter 630: A Secret Pact

Chapter 631: The Bear-monsters of Giantwood (Part 1)

Chapter 632: Giantwood Bear-monsters (Part 2)
Chapter 633: Oversight and Remedy
Chapter 634: Speaking Human Words
Chapter 635: Lurking Murderous Intent
Chapter 636: Counterattack
Chapter 637: Insidious Methods
Chapter 638: Twists and Turns
Chapter 639: The Great War Approaches
Chapter 640: Inquiry
Chapter 641: Direct
Chapter 642: Manipulation
Chapter 643: Letting the Horse Return to Camp

Chapter 644: A Change Spiraling Out of Control

Chapter 645: The Inner Circle
Chapter 646: Tacit Understanding
Chapter 647: A Public Show of Goodwill
Chapter 648: Forced Marriage Proposal
Chapter 649: Human and Inhuman
Chapter 650: Striving
Chapter 651: First Battle

Chapter 652: The Red-Armored Warriors of Gambis

Chapter 653: The Light of Wisdom

Chapter 654: A Startling Discovery

Chapter 655: The Second Type of Alchemical Creature

Chapter 656: Intense Preparations
Chapter 657: The Heroic Battle (Part 1)
Chapter 658: The Heroic Battle (Part 2)
Chapter 659: The Heroic Battle (Part 2)
Chapter 660: Finding Answers
Chapter 661: Missing the Point
Chapter 662: Lure and Kill, and a Trial

Chapter 663: Attaining Sainthood and Becoming Light

Chapter 664: Destiny’s Rebound

Chapter 665: The Great Khan’s Desperate Counterattack

Chapter 666: To Prepare for a Rainy Day
Chapter 667: Roland, Roland
Chapter 668: The War Goddess
Chapter 669: Psychic Tsunami

Chapter 670: Behind the Cute and Beautiful Facade

Chapter 671: The Enmity in the Blood

Chapter 672: A Battle Across Time and Space (Part 1)

Chapter 673: A Battle Across Time and Space (Middle)

Chapter 674: A Battle Across Time and Space (Part 2)

Chapter 675: A Thousand Loose Ends (Part 1)
Chapter 676: A Thousand Loose Ends (Part 2)
Chapter 677: Concession and Advance
Chapter 678: Saint Realm
Chapter 679: The Significance of Insight
Chapter 680: Before the Storm

Chapter 681: The Raging Wind Sword Saint’s Proclamation

Chapter 682: Secret Meeting
Chapter 683: Intricate and Complex
Chapter 684: Clearing Up the Misunderstanding
Chapter 685: The Beginning of a New Plan
Chapter 686: Nightingale Manor
Chapter 687: Integration and Self
Chapter 688: The Shadow King’s Knight
Chapter 689: The Eighth Family
Chapter 690: The Keeper of Secrets’ Test
Chapter 691: The Missing Princess (Part 1)
Chapter 692: The Missing Princess (Part 2)
Chapter 693: The Missing Princess (Part 2)
Chapter 694: A Chance Encounter
Chapter 695: Micklemers’s Student
Chapter 696: Resolve
Chapter 697: The Suspects
Chapter 698: The Advent of the Rock Brick
Chapter 699: Questions and Answers
Chapter 700: Prince-Elector
Chapter 701: A Story (Part 1)
Chapter 702: A Story (Part 2)
Chapter 703: Reaching a Consensus
Chapter 704: An Unpleasant Meeting
Chapter 705: Digging a Canal to Divert Water
Chapter 706: The Dominator
Chapter 707: The Weaver
Chapter 708: The Successor
Chapter 709: First Meeting
Chapter 710: Unraveling the Truth
Chapter 711: The Moment of Parting
Chapter 712: Red Frost Tree Manor
Chapter 713: Unwilling to Pursue
Chapter 714: The Allure of Gold

Chapter 715: The “Out of Favor” Gold-Eyed Earl

Chapter 716: Strategic Adjustments
Chapter 717: Damage Control Measures
Chapter 718: Secret Fortress
Chapter 719: Night Fiend
Chapter 720: Winning Over
Chapter 721: Dragon Blood Sacrifice (Part 1)
Chapter 722: Dragon Blood Sacrifice
Chapter 723: The Mystery of the Dragonoids
Chapter 724: Aberration
Chapter 725: Serpent Fiends and Ambition
Chapter 726: C-section Surgery
Chapter 727: Expanding the Domain
Chapter 728: The Apostle’s Seed
Chapter 729: Progress
Chapter 730: Five Seeds
Chapter 731: Extreme Test
Chapter 732: The Dragon Pact
Chapter 733: The Anomaly
Chapter 734: Tacit Understanding
Chapter 735: The Alchemist’s Diary (Part 1)
Chapter 736: The Alchemist’s Diary (Part 2)
Chapter 737: The Alchemist’s Diary (Part 2)
Chapter 738: An Invitation
Chapter 739: Intimidation
Chapter 740: Motivation
Chapter 741: Planning
Chapter 742: A Series of Shocks Along the Way
Chapter 743: The New Round Table Meeting
Chapter 744: Arrangements for the Exercise
Chapter 745: Fireproofing the Home Front
Chapter 746: Guidance
Chapter 747: The Choice
Chapter 748: Follower
Chapter 749: Family Arrangements
Chapter 750: Follow-up Plans
Chapter 751: Their Own Methods
Chapter 752: Battle Preparations
Chapter 753: Combat Objective
Chapter 754: The Hydra Attacks
Chapter 755: Formulating a Plan
Chapter 756: The Hydra’s Mysteries (Part 1)

Chapter 757: Mysteries of the Nine-headed (Part 2)

Chapter 758: Difficult Negotiations
Chapter 759: The Second Hibernation
Chapter 760: The Poltanos Secret Art
Chapter 761: Elevation and Suppression

Chapter 762: The Eastern Advance Plan Is Triggered

Chapter 763: The Five-Day War
Chapter 764: The Bear Company Changes Hands
Chapter 765: The Attention From Behind
Chapter 766: Chilling Wind

Chapter 767: The Sword Saint Transmits the Art

Chapter 768: Clarification and Suspicion

Chapter 769: Encounter with Thieves on the Grassland

Chapter 770: The Invader and the Thief from Within

Chapter 771: Capturing the Thieves
Chapter 772: Secret History
Chapter 773: Legendary-Rank Adventurers
Chapter 774: News of the Demons
Chapter 775: Tipping Point
Chapter 776: Avoidance
Chapter 777: The Ant-man Marching Trail

Chapter 778: The Sword Dancer of Greenleaf Village

Chapter 779: The Wild Elf General
Chapter 780: Demigod
Chapter 781: Monster in the Black Forest
Chapter 782: Ancient Undead
Chapter 783: Undead Creatures
Chapter 784: Lord of Despair

Chapter 785: The Strange Bird from Underground

Chapter 786: Black Blood
Chapter 787: The Lord of Sorrow
Chapter 788: Disappearance
Chapter 789: Uninvited Guest
Chapter 790: Nightingale the Wanderer
Chapter 791: The Divination Ritual
Chapter 792: The Moonlight’s Guidance
Chapter 793: The Shadow of the Abyss
Chapter 794: Breath of the Moon Goddess
Chapter 795: Spare Piece
Chapter 796: Raging Wind Slices the Wings
Chapter 797: Repositioning
Chapter 798: An Answer
Chapter 799: The Tomb
Chapter 800: The Strange Tomb
Chapter 801: The Realm of All Spirits
Chapter 802: The Dark Elf Priestess
Chapter 803: Entering the Temple
Chapter 804: Insectoid Demon
Chapter 805: The Four Seasons Wizard King
Chapter 806: The Four Keys
Chapter 807: The Overlapping Beacons

Chapter 808: A Clue Delivered to Their Doorstep

Chapter 809: A Demon Sovereign?

Chapter 810: Arrangements Before the Final Battle

Chapter 811: Slaying the Demon
Chapter 812: The Cage
Chapter 813: The Trap
Chapter 814: Beacon
Chapter 815: The Angel’s Descent
Chapter 816: The Masked Black Blood Sovereign
Chapter 817: Battle of the Ancient Species
Chapter 818: The End of the Perfect Body
Chapter 819: The Beginning of Strife
Chapter 820: Ruminations on the Origin
Chapter 821: Voluntary Submission
Chapter 822: The Web of Fate
Chapter 823: Confidence
Chapter 824: Riddles to be Solved (Part 1)
Chapter 825: Unsolved Mysteries (Part 2)
Chapter 826: Woodland Swamp
Chapter 827: Ambushed
Chapter 828: Legendary Wizard
Chapter 829: The “Moved” Ant King
Chapter 830: The Little Wizard’s Trial
Chapter 831: Laila Perishes
Chapter 832: Heart-Piercing Charm
Chapter 833: Surrender
Chapter 834: The Agreement
Chapter 835: Self-Suggestion
Chapter 836: Breakthrough in Source Power
Chapter 837: Honoring the Agreement
Chapter 838: The Forest’s Cover
Chapter 839: Triggering a Change
Chapter 840: Relocation
Chapter 841: Bel’s Whimsical Forest
Chapter 842: The Crystal Appears
Chapter 843: The Guiding “Fey”
Chapter 844: The Gros Insectoids Reappear
Chapter 845: Trapped in a Bewildering Maze
Chapter 846: The Slaver Party
Chapter 847: Reunion
Chapter 848: The Precious Divine Kingdom
Chapter 849: Interrogation
Chapter 850: Fountain of Youth
Chapter 851: The First Queen of Assyria
Chapter 852: Betrayal and Ambush
Chapter 853: A Clash of Spells
Chapter 854: Formulating a Plan

Chapter 855: The High-Level Ant-man in the Fantastical Forest

Chapter 856: The Gros Queen
Chapter 857: The Heart of Nature
Chapter 858: Mental Suggestion
Chapter 859: Blood of an Ancient God
Chapter 860: House Arrest
Chapter 861: Infiltration
Chapter 862: The Planner
Chapter 863: A Game of Factions
Chapter 864: The Raid Begins
Chapter 865: Holy Chains
Chapter 866: The Arrival
Chapter 867: The Catalyst is a Dwarf
Chapter 868: Touch of Chaos
Chapter 869: A Reminder from the World’s Will
Chapter 870: Relocation

Chapter 871: The Ant-man Empress’s Show of Force

Chapter 872: His Highness Randall’s Lesson
Chapter 873: To Advance by Retreating
Chapter X: Taking a Day Off
Chapter 874: Reactivation
Chapter 875: A Glimpse
Chapter 876: Clarifying Doubts
Chapter 877: Negotiation

Chapter 878: Bloodline Transformation Rune Formation

Chapter 879: Aka’s Premonition
Chapter 880: Conversation
Chapter 881: A Specter
Chapter 882: School of Life
Chapter 883: The Fog Beyond the Answer
Chapter 884: The Final Moment

Chapter 885: Memory Bubbles Implanted in the Bloodline

Chapter 886: The Pale One’s Victory

Chapter 887: The Power of the Mind’s Dominator

Chapter 888: The Scales of the Mind
Chapter 889: Spider Lady
Chapter 890: Three-Way Entanglement
Chapter 891: Awakening
Chapter 892: Tense Deployments
Chapter 893: The Beginning
Chapter 894: Rejuvenation
Chapter 895: The Spider Lady’s Sigh
Chapter 896: Human Cunning
Chapter 897: The Archmage’s Wish
Chapter 898: Final Instructions

Chapter 899: The Legacy of the Myriad Phenomena Primal Method

Chapter 900: Falling from a Miracle (Part 1)
Chapter 901: Fall from a Miracle (Part 2)
Final Words
Epilogue 1: Fist of Heaven